My Cup Overflows

It is summer and I know I should be thrilled and downright overjoyed to spend lots and lots of unscheduled days with my two soon-to-be three year olds.  Part of me is over the moon excited, but that part is somewhere close to twenty percent.  (Okay, ten percent.)  The other eighty (or ninety) percent of this momma is stressed out and dreading those rainy days and one-hundred-degrees-plus days and days like today where laundry is the big crescendo.   I shudder to think that my kids only get along for an average of ten minutes and that’s on a good day!  I cringe when I think about all the effort it takes to cover my table with plastic, whip out the paint, masking tape and construction paper just to have Jake tell me “my done” after thirty seconds. 

This morning I confessed all of this to Jesus, while at the same time thanking Him for the tremendous blessing He plopped in my lap just three short years ago.  I was honest when I told Him that I wonder some days if I’m cut out for all of this mothering stuff.  Why else do I feel such dread when I gaze at our usually cluttered calendar and see box after box of white, empty space?

After pouring out my heart, I picked up my pen and made a list of things I could do with my kids.  Things that they would enjoy and I would enjoy, then I prayed I’d have my sanity intact by the time I checked off each one. 

Read a book

Play hopscotch in the driveway

Have a picnic lunch

Have a tea party with real water on the back porch

Paint a picture (even though I know Jake will only last about thirty seconds)

When I was done with my list, I smiled to myself thinking, “This is going to be good.” 
Let me tell you how my day has gone so far:

READ A BOOK:  In two separate accidents, both kids (I promise I am not making this up) peed all over the bathroom floor and all over the basket of books I keep in there for potty training.  So we skipped to the next activity on the list while we let our books dry out…

HOPSCOTCH:  Jake cried when I took a piece of chalk out of his bucket to make the hopscotch squares and Lilly tripped and skinned her knee two minutes later hopping from square to square.  She cried too.

PAINT:  Jake lasted only thirty seconds.

PICNIC LUNCH:  Lilly asked me ten times for peanut butter even though I told her ten times it was already on her plate.

TEA PARTY:  After filling up pitchers with water, both kids poured and poured and poured until their entire pitcher was poured out all over the table outside.  (Apparently, tea kettles with make believe tea inside them are much easier to control!)

Somewhere between the pee, the tears, the empty pitchers and overflowing cups, I realized that I had to teach Jake and Lilly when to stop pouring.  So we started over and I showed them how to stop right before the water got to the top of the cup.  They watched and listened, then I filled up their pitchers again and they tried on their own.   

And then it happened: twenty glorious minutes of pouring out water into two tiny teacups and then dumping it back in the pitcher to start all over again.   No talking.  No yelling.  No crying.  No fighting.  No whining.  Just pouring and filling, pouring and filling.  

 

In the silence that is so, so sacred these days, I whispered a “thank you” to Jesus. 

Thank you for this quiet moment.

Thank you for trusting me to teach these kids simple things like when to stop pouring water into a tiny little tea cup and huge, life changing things like what it looks like to follow You.

Thank you for giving me this glimpse of what it looks like to be poured out, thinking I don’t have enough, only to discover that my cup is overflowing with blessing.

Thank you for filling my cup so that I can pour it out.

You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 

Psalm 23:5

  

Late To the Party

Yes, I joined Facebook in 2013.  I showed up late to the party and this post will hopefully explain where I’ve been.  While everyone else was talking about the newest, biggest thing, I was in no mood to party.  I was mourning the loss of this perfect little plan that I had worked so, so hard to create.  About six years ago, God grabbed the plan I had scripted and began to revise it.  When His red correcting pen touched my life, I was not too happy.  In fact, when I looked at the marks He was making, I got angry.  He began to add parts I did not wish to include.  He crossed out parts that I was sure were necessary to my happiness.

And so began this journey with Jesus- a journey that brought me through the anger, through the pain, through the waiting, loss and grief to a place of peace and a place of freedom with a whole new identity.  When I uttered a teeny tiny little prayer, I had no idea that it had the power to change my life so drastically.  I was in a place of desperation, and I felt completely alone.  I have been talking to Jesus since I was a little girl, but it wasn’t until I hit the lowest point of my entire life that I told Him I was done trying to do it without Him.  I loved Him, but I had never trusted Him enough to give Him every single part of my life.  I had gripped that well written plan so tightly that He had to lift my fingers off of it, one by one, and it took some time! 

I decided to trust that He was not destroying my plan with all those red marks but instead He was making it better.  Slowly, I would hand over every part of my life to Him to use as He pleased.  This journey with Jesus was so much more than a freedom walk.  I began to realize that never before had I really seen myself the way He sees me.  He began to show me in amazing and crazy ways who I was… in Him.  I felt like a new person, like I had been given a new name, but I was still Kelly.  About six weeks ago, it finally made sense to me.  I had not been given a new name, but I had been given new eyes to see who God had named me thirty two years ago, on the day I was born. 

So many times throughout this journey I’ve prayed, asking Him if I was ready to go to the party.  And for so long, His reply has been, “Child, that won’t be good for you.”  After getting the same response over and over again, I figured that He meant it would never be good for me.  He knows me and all the insecurity I’ve been hauling around with me for way too long, so when He said “no,” I said “ok.”  God intentionally kept me from it so that I would trust what He was doing in my life, instead of being so caught up in what He was doing in everyone else’s lives. 

The thing I love about our God is that we will never come to place in life where we figure Him out… not ever!  And so, to answer the question that everyone is asking me:  I came late to the party because my Daddy said I was finally ready to go.  I know some people will read this and think, “She just waited until she got her life together.”  To which I chuckle and say, “Hardly.  There is nothing together about my life.  I’ve just figured out Who holds my life together, and it is a daily decision to put my life in His hands.”

"My Mark"

I love watching my kids create things. They are totally thrilled with a blank sheet of paper, the possibilities of what it will become endless.    Whether it is stamps, crayons, stickers or paint, nothing brings my two little ones as much joy as creating a piece of artwork to show Daddy when he gets home from work. After their projects are deemed satisfactory, they sit on the kitchen counter until the door handle turns and in walks Daddy.  At the sound of his voice, Jake and Lilly sprint to the kitchen, pluck their pictures off the counter and thrust them into his hands, saying “I made that for you, Daddy!”  I know it is the absolute highlight of his day! 

A few weeks ago while driving on a beautiful, clear day Jake spotted a white mark against the crisp blue sky.  “My mark!” he exclaimed.  It reminded me of the chalk marks that cover our driveway, fat and full of texture, and seemingly endless.    I explained to Jake that an airplane made the mark in the sky and even though we couldn’t see the airplane any more the mark showed us where it had been.  As we continued down the road, he repeated to himself, “My mark! My mark!”  

That day I thought about how our lives leave a mark as well.  We try to be so conscious of what kind of legacy we are leaving for our children.  As I stared with my son at that beautiful chalky line in the sky, I realized that the only thing that will last when I’m no longer here is the fruit God produces from my little old seeds.  Those seeds are not intended to sit on a shelf, collecting dust.  They are meant to be planted, in order to produce more seeds, which are to be planted, and so on. 

Today Jake spotted another airplane mark in the sky and this time Lilly got all caught up in the excitement, too.  As two-year-olds love to do, Jake quickly claimed his mark and excitedly shouted out, “My mark!  See my mark!”  He was enthusiastically pointing at the line in the sky as if he had something to do with putting it there!  Then he said, “I made that.  I made that mark.”   

Of course I did not correct him.  I did not point out that clearly an airplane made that mark and he obviously was not listening when I explained this fact to him weeks ago.  I would never dream of telling my son that there is no way he could ever reach the sky, let alone color on it.  So I said what any mother would say when her son claims to have colored the sky.  With my eyes locked on his in my rear view mirror, I said, “Oh, really?”  He nodded his head emphatically and then said, “I made that for Daddy.” 

Sometimes I think God wishes we would just look at His world through the eyes of a child. Everywhere we turn there are marks; some are subtle, some are bold.  Creation is covered in His beauty. His fingerprints are all over our lives.  We get to leave a mark when we leave this world.  How magnificent our mark will be if we would paint the sky with the recipient of our artwork in mind!  We are all holding a brush and our life is the blank canvas.  Some of us paint for ourselves.  Some paint for our children.  But the mark displayed most beautifully is the mark that is made for the Father.  When my time here is up, I want be able to say the same thing about my mark: “I made that for you, Daddy!”

Spring Is In the Air

 Breaking In New Boots

               Bluebonnets

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dying Easter Eggs

Hunting For Eggs at Grammy & Pop's House

For the Birds

But those who wait on the Lord

Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,
They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint.

~Isaiah 40:31 (NKJV)

WORN OUT AND WEARY

While in San Diego over Spring Break, I found myself mesmerized as I listened to fascinating facts about the animals at the San Diego Zoo.   The bus lurched to a squeaky stop in front of a large flock of flamingos.  Ordinarily, I am not super impressed with these tall pinkish-orange birds.  Not that they aren’t beautiful, but, come on, we were eager to see the polar bear, panda bear, and big cats.  I would have been fine with riding right on by the birds.

Our guide was telling us that the flamingo’s coloring is a result of the beta-Carotene in their diet.  This is the same stuff that made my babies’ noses orange when they fell in love with sweet potatoes and carrots and would eat nothing else!

I listened as our cheerful tour guide described why some of the flamingos look greyish-white instead of bright pink or orange.  She told us very matter-of-factly that those were the mommas.  She said that all flamingos are born with grey feathers and that what they eat gives them their famous coloring.  So, the birds that lacked that bright, vibrant appearance, well, those were the tired-out, worn-out, exhausted mommas who are too busy feeding their babies to take care of themselves. 

“Huh," I thought to myself, "incredibly familiar."  As I sat there taking in everything our guide was saying, it hit me… hard.  I saw myself in those flamingos.   Only a momma who is ragged and worn around the edges as she rolls out of bed (sometimes at the crack of dawn and sometimes in the middle of the night) knows the energy it requires to muster up the patience, the determination, and the will power to face a day with little ones (or big ones) who are in constant need. 

Oh, how I wish I had eight arms like an octopus some days.  Or a shell like a clam or turtle to escape the never ending requests that start with “Mommy, I need.....”  Sometimes, I wish I was as fast as a cheetah so when another a potty request is made after we are all buckled in the car, I can run like the wind and arrive everywhere on time instead of always running late. 

As I stared at these beautiful birds, all of a sudden, I could pick out all the momma flamingos.  Just as the tour guide had explained, they were the ones that were pale in comparison to the birds who were clearly well nourished.  They were easy to spot because they didn’t look as healthy as the other birds, who wore the evidence of a body well-fed.  On days that Jake and Lilly are in pre-school, I often find myself wondering aimlessly around places like Target just enjoying the fact that I don’t have two little ones trying to climb out of the cart.  But without fail, I always run across women who (even if they don’t have their children in tow) have that weary and exhausted look that I’ve come to recognize in my own mirror.

EAGLE'S FEATHERS

This morning I read Isaiah 40:31, a verse I know well and love deeply.  I couldn’t help but make the bird connection as I asked for strength for the day before me.

But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,
They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint.

I love that it doesn’t say “those who strive really, really hard on their own…”

Or “those who muster up all of their left over strength from the day before…”

Or “those who have it all together…”

Those who wait on the LORD shall renew their strength.

Those who trust in the LORD shall renew their strength.

I love the idea of soaring like an eagle, far above the world, strong and steady and swift.  I read in one of my bible’s footnotes that an eagle sheds its feathers in the beginning of spring and takes on a new, youthful appearance.  With new plumage comes renewed strength.  Psalm 103:5 refers to this phenomenon as the writer declares, “your youth is renewed like the eagles.”  Oh, how I need my youth renewed!

This past weekend, I had a night out with two other moms.  One is expecting her second child in only two weeks.  The sweet baby boy taking up so much space in her tummy prevented her from finishing her dinner.  I remember those days when there’s just no more room, not even for a delicious dish, no matter how much you shift in your seat.  Many times during the last weeks of my pregnancy, I reluctantly set my fork down, not even halfway through my meal.  Now, my fork gets set down for a whole slew of different reasons.

As three mommas sat around the dinner table exchanging silly stories of potty training and sibling rivalry, I realized that we had so much in common with those pale grey birds I saw at the zoo.  Our time together was refreshing.  I shared with them how just a couple days before with a sick child at home, I had sent my incredibly helpful husband out to pick up Motrin and Pedialyte only to have him return with Tylenol and Pediasure. We joked about getting older or to be more accurate, feeling older with every new stage that parenting brought on.  Like the eagle, we also share the need to have our feather's made over.

It was in the middle of that dinner that I realized that unlike the flamingos, it wasn’t what we ate that made us prettier, stronger, more youthful; it’s what we allow to fill us that gives us what is needed to be a strong momma.  The strength is not our own- it’s God’s, and the only way to that strength is in realizing that we are weak and do not have what it takes.  I think that is why the word “wait” is so important in this verse. 

Waiting is all about trusting.  When I get impatient and try to go ahead of God and do things on my own, it’s because I’m choosing not to trust Him.  When I try to muster up my own strength, I fall short every time.  When I try to quench my thirst and satisfy my hunger with things other than Him, I grow weary and fatigued.

The end of this beautiful verse in Isaiah speaks of running and walking without being tired, worn-out or exhausted.  It seems a bit out of order that the running would be before the walking, but I think it might mean that once we choose to focus on running the race set before us, the next step is to chose to walk in faith each day, beginning with one step, then another and another, relying on Jesus each day for the strength we need. 

Though it might seem like a renewed appearance will produce strength, spiritual strength comes from above and is found within.  2 Corinthians 4:16 explains the difference between outward and inward strength:  “Therefore we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day."

The Hebrew word for renew is chalaph, which means to change for the better, show newness, or sprout again.  It reminds me of trimming back branches at springtime so that new growth can burst forth.  Just as the eagle in the spring sheds those old, used-up feathers, we can shed our miserable attempts to be enough to those who need us.  As we shrug off the idea that we can handle everything, an amazing thing happens:  we get a change of clothes, beautiful and new, given to us by the One who has an endless supply of strength.

A momma who recognizes her own weakness and need for Jesus will be renewed with every ounce of strength she needs to face her day, whatever that day may hold.  And I believe that as Jesus fills our hunger, we too will become bright and vibrant and beautiful from the inside out.

VISIBLE STRENGTH

Anytime the Proverbs 31 woman is described, it seems as if mommas everywhere suck in a deep breath, waiting to hear how they are dim in comparison to this woman that seems perfect in every way.   But instead of treating her as something to strive after, I believe that God wants us to accept that she exists inside of each of us, whether we feel like it or not. 

She is described as having “arms strong for her tasks.”  I find it interesting that a few verses before it says that “she gets up while it is still night.”  Nowhere in this entire passage does it say anything about being tired, worn out, weary or exhausted and yet she gets up at dawn!  Clearly this woman must get a full eight hours of sleep to accomplish so much each day, right?!  But I can't help but wonder why she gets up while it’s still dark outside.  I wonder if she is anything like me, who every morning has to lay down my own strength (or lack thereof) before Jesus and acknowledge that I just don’t have what it takes.  I wonder if at the crack of day, she calls out to Jesus, too, saying, “You gotta help me today.  You are strong.  I am weak.  Help me, please.” 

Further down, these two precious words are used to describe the woman that lives inside each of us:  “She is clothed with strength and dignity.” As Jesus renews her strength inwardly, she exudes confidence, peace and beauty.  The Proverbs 31 woman is not perfect, but she knows that Jesus’ perfect love is all she needs to be everything to everybody in her crazy-busy, but oh, so blessed life.  In her weakness she relies on His strength, and His strength makes her strong.