Being a Mom means you wear so many hats. You are nurse and chauffeur, referee and finder of lost things, budget master, master chef and so many other things. First and foremost, though, you are a teacher. You may not have a teacher's degree, or any sort of compensation (at least in the form of $), but you are a teacher nonetheless. You teach your children to eat, to walk, to talk, to play, to share, to potty, to read, to respect others, and an infinite number of things. Sometimes a Mom feels like she's doing a reasonable job of teaching, and
sometimes she doesn't, but it's an important job, and not one we can
neglect. Because sometimes you teach them without even knowing you're doing it ... no matter what you do, they're always watching.
One of the things that's always been at the top of my list to teach my children is a love and respect for God and his word. I want them to grow up to be happy and healthy and successful, but above all I want them to grow up to be the kind of men that are pleasing to God. And one of the best ways I have found to try and teach them these things is to make it a part of their everyday lives.
I don't mean that I just take them to church "when I'm supposed to", and be sure they have their Bible lessons done. Yes, we do that. But what I mean is that I work at trying to incorporate something Biblical into what we're doing whenever the opportunity presents itself.
For instance, today I have been trying to make homemade bread. I've attempted it a time or two before, but not had much luck. This is a new recipe, and a full-fledged "knead-it-for-10-minutes" type, at that. It's baking now, and I'm on pins and needles waiting to see how it turns out.
As I worked on the bread, my four-year-old was watching me knead the dough. Pushing and folding it ... over and over and over. And we talked. We talked about the bread I was making, and how yummy we hoped it would be. We talked about the different ingredients I was using, and what they were for. And we talked about yeast, or what the Bible calls "leaven". We talked about what it was and what it's job was, and we talked about making bread with and without leaven. And we talked about when the Bible talked about unleavened bread ... at the first Passover (he's studied the plagues in Egypt in the recent past), and how we have unleavened bread now, when we have the Lord's Supper. It was a simple conversation, and a fairly short one, but it put the information out there for him to think about. And he DOES think about it. Sometimes he will come up with questions that, for a four-year-old, absolutely amaze me.
And there is an added benefit to trying to inject these things into conversations with my children when I can. In order to keep the things of God in the front of their minds, it means I must also always have the things of God in the front of my own mind. Something we should always do, but something that sometimes gets lost in the shuffle of every day life for many adults. I strive to teach my children, and by extension, learn things myself ... and hopefully we will all be able to share in the same reward one day.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Monday, January 13, 2014
I'm fine ... really!
Someone asked me out of politeness the other day, "How are you doing?" And of course, I said, "I'm fine, thanks."
Why do we do that?
I suppose a lot of that response is automatic, just like a lot of times the question is automatic. Unless we're talking to a good friend that we tend to confide in anyway, most people don't really want to know the minutae of our everyday existence ... whether we're up or down, angry, stressed, joyful, hurting, or whatever. In truth, they probably don't need to, anyway.
But I've learned, especially since becoming a mother, that "fine" is one of those relative terms. For instance, in any given week, I might say I'm fine when:
So, I AM fine ... really. :)
Why do we do that?
I suppose a lot of that response is automatic, just like a lot of times the question is automatic. Unless we're talking to a good friend that we tend to confide in anyway, most people don't really want to know the minutae of our everyday existence ... whether we're up or down, angry, stressed, joyful, hurting, or whatever. In truth, they probably don't need to, anyway.
But I've learned, especially since becoming a mother, that "fine" is one of those relative terms. For instance, in any given week, I might say I'm fine when:
- I'm stressed about how one of my sons is doing at school.
- I'm elated over some new genealogy find.
- I'm wondering if my youngest will ever remember to use the potty on his own.
- I'm thrilled that despite our one-income lifestyle, we're managing to pay off our debt.
- I'm missing my long-distance family.
- I'm trying to remember the umpteen million things I need to get done for five people.
- I'm wondering what's for dinner.
- I'm wishing someone ELSE would make ME dinner.
- I'm in the mood to go clothes shopping, but can't seem to make myself spend any money even when I get the opportunity to go.
- I'm totally loving my husband, who calls me beautiful no matter how frazzled I get, and loves me for who I am.
- I'm thinking I'd love for it to be spring, so I could get out in my garden and grow some yummy stuff to eat.
- One of the songs we just sang at church made me teary, because it reminded me of a lost loved one.
- My allergies are bothering me, and I really wish this headache would go away.
- I'm about to pull my hair out, because life with three little boys is all about NOISE.
- I'm feeling blessed, because I have three active, healthy little boys.
So, I AM fine ... really. :)
Monday, January 6, 2014
A prayer for peace
They'd been predicting this winter storm for days. Original forecasts suggested we might even have up to 10 inches of snow, although that was gradually shaved back to about 2 inches. One thing they kept saying, though, was it was going to be windy, and it was going to be COLD.
The storm arrived as scheduled ... right before my kids' bedtime. My kids are not real fond of going to bed during storms. It's not such a big deal in the daytime, but something about climbing into bed and trying to go to sleep during one is more of a challenge.
And so my middle son was in tears as he sat in his bed ... not wanting to lay down, not wanting the light turned off, not wanting much of anything. I was at a loss ... I couldn't change the storm, and he was being completely uncooperative. In fact, he was well on his way to working himself into a tizzy, so I went and sat on his bed (as best as I could since he sleeps on the bottom bunk!) and tried to talk to him.
I asked what was bothering him about the storm. He shrugged his shoulders, wiped his tear-streaked face, and said in a tiny voice that it was too noisy outside. So we talked about our house ... the fact that we had strong walls, and a (relatively) new roof, and a heater and blankets inside to help keep us warm. We talked about how he had a hanky for his nose, and a favorite stuffed animal to cuddle with and keep him company. I wasn't sure how else to comfort him ... I really wasn't. Finally, I suggested he try what I try when I'm stressed or worried.
"You know what else you could try?" I asked. He shook his head.
"You could try praying." I said. "You know, God takes care of us when things are bothering us. You could pray and tell him that the storm is bothering you, and you could tell him thank you for our strong house, and ask him to help you sleep well, and help you be brave until the storm is gone."
Finally ... finally ... he was beginning to calm down a little bit.
"Do you want to say a prayer with Mommy?" I asked.
"I just want to do it later." he whispered.
"Ok," I told him. "You lay down, and I'll tuck you in and turn the light off, and then you can say a prayer all by yourself ... alright?" He nodded.
When I went to bed I said a prayer for all of us ... for protection and a good night's rest, and for comfort for my children during the storm.
The wind raged and howled around the house most of the night, and sticks and gumballs off the neighbor's trees kept pelting the house all night, waking me up because I was expecting to need to comfort one or another of my children. I didn't sleep well, but I never heard any of my children make a sound, nor were there any small hands on my arm looking for comfort during the night.
This morning I put my arms around my boy, and whispered in his ear ... "Did you say a prayer last night?" He nodded. "Did it help?" I asked. He nodded again. "Did you sleep well?" He nodded a third time. "I'm so glad." and I gave him a hug and a kiss and let him return to his play.
And then I said another mini prayer of my own ... "Thank you, Lord, for bringing peace to my child." After all, after a night like that, what else does a Mommy really need?
The storm arrived as scheduled ... right before my kids' bedtime. My kids are not real fond of going to bed during storms. It's not such a big deal in the daytime, but something about climbing into bed and trying to go to sleep during one is more of a challenge.
And so my middle son was in tears as he sat in his bed ... not wanting to lay down, not wanting the light turned off, not wanting much of anything. I was at a loss ... I couldn't change the storm, and he was being completely uncooperative. In fact, he was well on his way to working himself into a tizzy, so I went and sat on his bed (as best as I could since he sleeps on the bottom bunk!) and tried to talk to him.
I asked what was bothering him about the storm. He shrugged his shoulders, wiped his tear-streaked face, and said in a tiny voice that it was too noisy outside. So we talked about our house ... the fact that we had strong walls, and a (relatively) new roof, and a heater and blankets inside to help keep us warm. We talked about how he had a hanky for his nose, and a favorite stuffed animal to cuddle with and keep him company. I wasn't sure how else to comfort him ... I really wasn't. Finally, I suggested he try what I try when I'm stressed or worried.
"You know what else you could try?" I asked. He shook his head.
"You could try praying." I said. "You know, God takes care of us when things are bothering us. You could pray and tell him that the storm is bothering you, and you could tell him thank you for our strong house, and ask him to help you sleep well, and help you be brave until the storm is gone."
Finally ... finally ... he was beginning to calm down a little bit.
"Do you want to say a prayer with Mommy?" I asked.
"I just want to do it later." he whispered.
"Ok," I told him. "You lay down, and I'll tuck you in and turn the light off, and then you can say a prayer all by yourself ... alright?" He nodded.
When I went to bed I said a prayer for all of us ... for protection and a good night's rest, and for comfort for my children during the storm.
The wind raged and howled around the house most of the night, and sticks and gumballs off the neighbor's trees kept pelting the house all night, waking me up because I was expecting to need to comfort one or another of my children. I didn't sleep well, but I never heard any of my children make a sound, nor were there any small hands on my arm looking for comfort during the night.
This morning I put my arms around my boy, and whispered in his ear ... "Did you say a prayer last night?" He nodded. "Did it help?" I asked. He nodded again. "Did you sleep well?" He nodded a third time. "I'm so glad." and I gave him a hug and a kiss and let him return to his play.
And then I said another mini prayer of my own ... "Thank you, Lord, for bringing peace to my child." After all, after a night like that, what else does a Mommy really need?
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