Everything Needed

The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need. Psalm 23:1 (NLT)

Today was a first.  

First day of Pre-school, first day in separate classrooms, first five hour stretch of free time in which I missed my kids like crazy every single minute they were not here.

This day has been anticipated for months now.  Back in the spring, I picked out adorable owl and monkey lunch boxes to match the backpacks they received as Christmas presents from their auntie and uncle.  All summer long, at the pool and on various other outings, Jake and Lilly practiced eating their lunch with their new gear.  There were zippers and pouches and handles to discover.

For their birthdays in July, Grammy and Pop gave each of them their very own nap mat, which was an immediate hit for both.  All summer long, they’d unroll their mats, fluff up their pillows, and curl up under their blankets to watch their favorite show.  (Somehow Lilly was OK with this type of resting as long as it didn’t involve sleep!)

When today finally arrived, we were ready.  We had all of the required supplies and our Pre-school equipment was broken in.  With lots of confidence, we stepped out of the house in brand new tennis shoes, ready to embark upon this new journey.

We stopped at Lilly’s room first, and having met her teacher last Friday, she ran right into her classroom without a second glance.  When Jake realized what was going on, he went back and forth about whether or not he was really ready for this big adventure.  I quickly handed him off to his sweet teacher and kissed his tear streaked face, trying really hard to hold it together myself.  

By the time I left the building, a quick peek into their classroom windows proved that they had adjusted quite well to their new surroundings, and with a deep breath, I told myself it would all be OK.

I’ve thought and thought about all that went into getting prepared for this day.  The lunch boxes, the nap mats, the supplies, new shoes, the pep talks- all of it- and I’ve realized that I was probably more anxious about today than either of my kids.  It was my job to make sure they had everything they needed.  It was up to me to make sure they were ready when today came.  It was my responsibility to teach them how to use the equipment I’d provided. 

Our heavenly Father, who cares about every detail of our lives, has great adventures planned for us.  Some of us, like Lilly, can’t wait to jump in with reckless abandon to see what’s He’s got for us, while others, like my cautious Jake, are a little more hesitant and unsure.  I fall into that second category a bunch.  Sometimes, I doubt that God really can provide everything that I need.   

Part of the problem comes when I start looking at other pastures where the grass seems to be greener. But Psalm 23:2 says, He lets me rest in green meadows; he leads me beside peaceful streams. (NLT)  If I am following Him, then wherever He takes me is exactly where I am supposed to be. One thing that holds true for each and every one of us is the absolute delight God takes in providing all that we need for whatever circumstances we encounter.  We never face a season of life without everything we need. 

Sometimes, it is a new and exciting adventure that awaits us.  Other times, it may be a season of silence.  Often, God asks us to wait until He has fully developed our character and has taught us how to use the gifts He's given to us.  Sometimes, we find ourselves on a path that seems impossible to navigate.  But, never is there a time when He will not come through for us.  He gives us what we need to walk confidently, as we draw the strength for each step from Him.  

What gives me the most peace is the fact that it is not up to me to make sure I have everything I need.  That is God's job.  As long as I am keeping a check on my heart and I'm sure that where I am headed is actually where He is leading me, then I can find security in knowing that the rest is up to Him.  I used to think that giving up control would restrict me, but the opposite is true.  There is such freedom when I allow Him to take the reins, because all of sudden, having what I need becomes His responsibility, not mine.

Just as I took joy in giving my children all they would need to do well on their new journey, God does not overlook a single thing.  When I look back at certain times in my life, particularly the difficult seasons, I am amazed at just how much He did provide.  Everything from precious friendships to verses of scriptures whispered to my broken heart to the strength necessary to just keep going:  all were marked by His fingerprints. 

I had to leave my children this morning and wait until this afternoon to learn how they adjusted, how they interacted with their new classmates, and the final outcome of this “first day.”  I told Cody that I would have loved to be a fly on the wall today, watching their every move, and he replied, “You and every other mother.”

I didn’t get to go along with my children on their new adventure.  The fact that I am their Momma couldn't change that.  But our heavenly Father promises to never leave His children.  He walks beside me along every road I travel.  Because His Son lives inside of me, wherever I go, He’s going too.  He celebrates when I conquer fears, He rejoices over me when I make the tiniest bit of progress, He delights in watching me grow.  And on the days when I fail or I fall behind or I think I can’t possibly take it any longer, He lavishes me with His grace.  And that alone gives me faith to keep walking in the way He leads, looking to Him for everything I need.

And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19 (NLT)

Sleepless Nights

Do everything without grumbling or arguing…  Philippians 2:14

We’re tired.  And by we, I mean all of us.  There has been no shortage of grumbling and arguing in our house lately.   It’s been more of a shortage of sleep.

First, it was the roosters behind the neighbors’ barn that would jolt us out of slumber long before dawn. 

Then, for three straight weeks, somebody in this house had something that kept all of us from sleeping well at night: stuffy noses and the snoring that often accompanies them, coughing, sneezing, itchy eyes, ear infections, etc.

About a week after everybody started to recover, Lilly started waking up around midnight wanting to play.  She’d ask for a drink, a TV show, or whatever she could creatively come up with in an attempt to get out of bed. 

(Notice I used the word attempt.  We were onto her.  We were a united front that endorsed a firm, yet loving message: “Sweet Lilly-Girl, we love you, but no, you will not be getting out of bed.”  She has continued to give it her best effort, though, in spite of our unwavering stance.  I was convinced one night that she’d had a terrible nightmare, until we caught her right in the middle of her dramatic little act!  Apparently, it threw her off when Daddy went in to lay her back down instead of Momma.  As soon as Cody opened her door, the crying stopped and she said, “Dad?! Where’s Mom?”  That was the end of that.  Until….)

The latest interference with sleep in this house was the crib escapee we found at two in the morning screaming at the top of the stairs.  It wasn’t until that night that I wished we could go back to just screaming in bed.  We always knew Lilly would be the first to figure out how to climb out of her crib, since sleep is so not her thing.  But with a couple of modifications to her bedroom, we were soon feeling much better about her safety at night. 

While all of the above has been go on in the wee hours of the night, Lilly has also been waking up 1-2 hours early in the morning.  To this we have completely given in, allowing her watch TV in our bed while we doze. 

On one such morning, after very little sleep the night before, Cody was less than nice to me when I asked for help with the TV. He was mad that Lilly was in our bed and mad that he was awake at 5:30 on a weekend.  After exchanging harsh words, he returned to his snoring about five minutes later.  I, on the other hand, was fuming, so sleep eluded me.  Around 7:30, he woke up, very chipper, I might add, and asked if we could please have a do-over.  Since I wanted to remain angry at him all day for being so impolite, his first apology was not sufficient.

“I’m sorry for being cranky this morning,” he offered.

In my mind, cranky didn't quite cover it.  Looking over at him on his side of the bed, I hissed through clenched teeth, “Fine!  Are you sorry for being incredibly rude and obnoxious, too?”

Without any hesitation whatsoever, the little one that sat between us in the bed looked at me with a quivery lip and said, “Yesh.”

So much for staying mad.  We both laughed until we had tears gushing out of our bloodshot eyes!  I guess even Lilly recognizes that her shortage of sleep has been the primary source of all of the grumbling and arguing lately.  

The next day, after a comment I’m sure I took the wrong way, Cody and I started another sleep disagreement.  This time it was about who had lost more sleep, like it was some sort of “Sleep Deprivation Competition” and the winner received a prize of eight uninterrupted hours in a dark and quiet room.  It didn’t take long to realize that neither of us was going to win.

Round and round in circles we went until I choked out through tears, “I just need to be appreciated.  I just need to be reminded that this is all worth it.”  Silence filled the air between us.  Eventually, we decided to be grown-ups and make a plan.  The argument soon ended, and later that night we prayed and asked God to help us deal with the crazy hand we’d recently been dealt, and vowed to remember that we were on the same team.

I am sure I’m not the only mother out there that could use a little appreciation.  It’s not that my husband doesn’t do that for me.  He does.  I think it has more to do with the fact that a Momma’s role is so huge, that no one could ever truly appreciate and acknowledge every little thing that falls under that list of responsibilities. 

As this week has carried on, my grumbling has continued, I'll admit.  I’ve wanted someone (mainly my husband) to pat me on the back and tell me how wonderful I am for doing my job.  I love the rewards that come with being a mom, but who wants to get up in the middle of the night?  And if I do, I’d at least like my sacrifice to be noticed.

This morning, as I waited impatiently for my coffee to brew, my previous comment crept its way into my mind.   “I just need to be reminded that this is all worth it,” I had said to my husband just two days before.

And then, in the very, very quiet place of my heart, I was reminded of the sacrifice someone else made.  The most humble of all sacrifices made because Jesus decided that I was worth it.  He wasn’t encouraged; He was rejected.  He wasn’t applauded as He hung on the cross for all of my sins.  They spat on Him, called Him names, mocked Him, and yet, He decided that I was worth it.

As these thoughts were flooding the little pity party I was set on having over coffee, I found this verse:  

Whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.  1 Corinthians 10:31

I’m guessing that everything probably includes instances of sleep deprivation.  Instead of grumbling and arguing, I was reminded that it’s in the little everyday things that I’m supposed to give God thanks and praise.  Even the parts that wear me out and threaten to steal my joy.

I checked both versions that I own and neither said anything like, “whatever energizing things you do,” or “whatever rewarding things you do,” or “whatever noticeable things you do…” Nope.  It clearly stated, “whatever you do.”

While nothing has changed for me on the outside, I’m making some changes this week on the inside.  I’m still tired, and I am in no way singing praise songs at 3:00 a.m.  But when that selfish part in me wants to gain some kind of recognition, I will do my best to remember who it is that I am called to serve. 

All the things I do and all the responsibilities I own as a mother, I do not only for my family, but most importantly, I do for the glory of God.  For the One who decided that I was worth it.  So when I am tempted to ask myself questions like, “Is this really worth it?” I’ll be able to certainly, positively, unequivocally say, “Yes.  Yes, this is worth it.”

Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.      

1 Thessalonians 5:18

One, Two, Nine

In the midst of play-dough, rainbow rice, and washable crayons, Jake and Lilly’s little two-year-old minds are being filled with things like colors, shapes, numbers, and ABC’s.  Jake love, love, loves the color orange, which I’m sure is in direct violation of the Good Aggie Parenting Decree. 

Lilly can’t open a book without counting everything on any given page.  She certainly knows the number “two,” and gets tickled when she spies a pair of anything.  When she counts, though, she is convinced that all she needs to know past “two” is “nine.”

“One, two, nine,” she’ll count, proud as peaches with herself for being such a smarty-pants.  When I try to get her to say “three,” she looks me straight in the eye and says, “No, nine.”  So I guess that settles it, then.  “One, two, nine,” it is.  I’m sure that is in direct violation of the Former Math Teacher Code as well.

I’m sure the day will come when she learns the correct way to count to ten, but today I couldn’t help but think of how I will be counting, “one, two, nine” as I watch them grow up... too quickly.

The first year of my babies’ lives was one I don’t fully remember.  It was one of the most challenging yet sweetest years of my entire life.  There are chunks of time I’ve lost (Cody claims this has happened to him too), I’m sure due to the little sleep we got with two babies who were on different sleep schedules and suffering from acid reflux. 

The second year was a time of independence and milestones, like first steps and first words.  When Jake and Lilly turned two just a couple of months ago, I think it was the first time that I started to feel "it."  Life moving too fast, my babies growing up into little people with completely unique personalities, and the general sense that if I’m not careful, I might miss something as these years start to whiz by me.

One, Two, Nine.

With every new stage, I feel "it."  When everyday seems like a tiny step towards that independence I’ve waited for, I feel "it."  When the highchairs get traded in for booster seats, when the diapers get replaced with big boy/ big girl underwear, and the cribs suddenly convert into toddler beds, I’ll feel "it," too.  Sometimes, I want to peak my head into their bedrooms at night and whisper while they sleep, “Slow down, please!”  

I realize that it will not stop, nor will it slow down, even if I wish it every day.  There will always be the next stage to contend with.  Tricycles will be swapped for bicycles, and no sooner than sending them to Pre-school, I'll be watching them head off to college.  

But, I'm glad that I have that little tug in my heart, because it is what reminds me to treasure every moment of every day like it's something precious.

Ironic

Well, this is ironic, I thought, even though it really wasn’t ironic at all.

To fully explain, let me back up to Monday, the day of Messy Closets.  As clearly as God spoke to my heart, gently reminding me that Monday was not the day to be consumed with out of control closets, He clearly gave me the green light on Tuesday.

I was cleaning up after the kids’ breakfast, and I popped my head into the playroom to check on them, where evidence of a reckless tornado left the room in a complete upheaval.  I sighed and actually smiled, thinking to myself, Thank you, Jesus for the strength I need for this day.

As soon as I finished my prayer, my nostrils were attacked by an overwhelmingly foul smell.  Not the smell of poop.  Not the smell of puke.  Not even the smell of soured milk.  This was a strong, musty smell that sometimes lingers in the laundry room where wet towels do not make it to the washing machine quick enough. 

With my nose completely violated by this horrible stench, I began walking around the kitchen sniffing like a crazy person.  It was not the laundry room.  It was not the trash can.  It was not the dishwasher.  It was not the playroom.  I even checked both kids’ diapers just be sure I wasn't confusing this smell.  And then. 

Slowly, I opened the pantry door and was assaulted by the horrible smell.  No, I thought. 

Back in the spring, Henrietta started sleeping on our back porch. I never minded the ducks in the front yard, but the back porch was a different story.  After too many mornings of the kids almost sliding in slimy duck poop, I told Henrietta she needed to find a new place to sleep.  To help her find a new shelter, we decided to stop feeding her every morning. 

I used to keep a basket on the pantry floor, and whenever we came across stale bread, I’d toss it in the basket for the ducks.  When we went to the park, we’d also grab a bag of stale bread to take with us for the ducks that hang around the lake.  I was proud of my organized little bread basket.  I was.  Until, that is, I forgot that we no longer feed the neighborhood ducks, so therefore have no need for the accumulating bread in our pantry. 

There it sat- a lovely little science experiment right on the floor of my pantry.  The same pantry I had blogged about the day before.  Ugh.  When I picked up the bag that no longer held traces of bread, but an awful, smelly, green fungus instead, I nearly gagged.  It was then that I thought I heard a quiet little chuckle, followed by these words from above, Go ahead and knock yourself out, child.  Today is your day to clean the pantry. And I'll give you all the strength you need to accomplish it.

Now by “clean” I want to be clear… my pantry still looks nothing like the one in my dreams.  There are still no labeled canisters of flour and sugar.  Nothing is straight and lined up just so.  Not a single canned good or spice container is in alphabetical order, or in any kind of order for that matter.  There are still corners of my pantry that are far from tidy, but there is no question about this: Mold will no longer be invading my space. 

The only reason I am even sharing this unflattering little story is because I fear that if my husband gets his hands on this computer, he will share it and put all kinds of exaggerated spins on it, further bringing to light my “messy” life.  

So there you have it.  I shared.