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:

• 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.

"Fine" means so many things. And saying "I'm fine" isn't necessarily untruthful, even on days when life happens to be weighing me down. The truth is, some of these things, even the "not fun" ones, are just a normal part of life for me. And besides that, I know that when I'm feeling troubled or overloaded, there's always someone I can go to that will listen. I can pray for myself and I can pray for others who may also be "fine", or may not. We can all help each other directly or indirectly, in big ways or small, in public, in private or anonymously. It makes the world a better place, and it makes us feel better about who we are. You remember me, and I remember you, whether we tell each other about it or not.

So, I AM fine ... really.  :)

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?

Difficult days with difficult children

All Moms have them. At least, I'm pretty sure they do, although I can only really vouch for my own. Days when it seems like nothing goes right. Days when it's all you can do not to wish you could lock someone in a soundproof box until they turn 40, or something along those lines. Days when you want to flop down in the middle of the floor and have a tantrum of your own. Days when it seems like you might as well just stop talking, because no one is listening to you anyway.

Thing is, when I feel that way, I'm especially thankful for people like my grandfather Glenn, who left us in 2003. He was always a man of strength and character. A man who seemed to have infinite wisdom and patience, at least to the eyes of a child.  He was and is a man I have loved and respected for as long as I can remember, and a man who was determined to follow God. That is why the difficult days make me thankful for him, when I have an opportunity to stop and think about it.

It's not because I feel like I have any particular strength in either wisdom or patience. They are things I work to try and improve, and sometimes that has to be on a daily basis.  I don't always feel strong, either, although I work hard to convey strength to those around me when they are needing it. (Isn't it funny how it works that way?)

The main reason I am thankful for folks like Grandpa is because of the faith that they instilled in me from a young age.

It is second nature to me to sing, and I do it all the time. Very often, I'm singing hymns, which brightens my day and encourages me. It rubs off on my children, who make up their own songs, just as I have made up songs for them. (Ask them to sing you the Bellybutton song sometime!) But it also makes me smile when I start singing or humming some hymn, and they recognize it. Occasionally, they'll even sing along, or ask me questions about it.

The other thing that is almost second nature to me at this stage of my life is prayer. Which is probably because I've found that on the days when I want to quit talking because none of my children are listening anyway, that sometimes it helps to change who I am talking to. I know that HE will listen, and even if I don't get a immediate or direct response, sometimes it helps me to calm down and refocus my energies. It helps to give me the strength and the courage I need to face the days that seem like one endless battle after another.

It reminds me of lessons learned from my Grandpa, who always told his children (who in turn told their children) to "remember what you are." I am a mother, a nurse, a referee, a chauffeur, a teacher, a budget analyst and more. But on those days when I struggle, when it's all I can do not to feel like I'm about to burst into tears of my own, I remember that I am also a child ... the child of a Father who loves me, and will give me all the help and support I could ever need. It allows me to pick myself up and to try again, even when I don't know how I'm going to accomplish it. I learned that lesson well from people like Grandpa ... and I am forever thankful.

Motherhood, or, When Sleep Became a Dream

Maybe I should have expected it. Maybe I just wasn't familiar enough with it to know better.

I knew that when I had a new baby in the house, I wasn't going to be getting a whole lot of sleep. What with diaper changes and feedings every two hours, and a little one uncomfortable because it is in unfamiliar territory, it's just to be expected, right? But after all, it'll get better. They'll start sleeping through the night, and then ... and then ...

Well, ok, maybe I didn't think beyond the "and then."

I used to think my Mother was really odd. Seemed like she'd come home at the end of the day, have dinner, sit down in a chair, and be completely ready to go to bed by about 8 pm. I mean, hey, 8 pm?? What, was she nuts?

More and more I'm discovering that getting my kiddos sleeping through the night does not mean I'm always able to sleep. Seems like there's always something. This one's got a cough. That one's got a tummy ache. The other one wants a drink. Someone is banging the bathroom door in the middle of the night making a mid-night bathroom trip ... which one is it, and do I need to shoo them back to bed in a minute or two because they've fallen asleep on the bathroom floor after they got done? I don't sleep soundly now ... my ears are tuned to unexpected sounds that wake me up abruptly, and then once I finally identify them it takes me a few minutes to go back to sleep.

Anything and everything is a deterrent to Moms sleeping, believe it or not. There are always too many things to do during the day, which means some of it invariably gets pushed back until after the kids go to bed and there a fewer distractions. It also means staying up later than you might prefer. Then, once you actually manage to climb in the bed, you still can't actually go to sleep, because you're rehashing problems of the day and possible solutions for tomorrow. Plan of attack for tomorrow ... cleaning, laundry, homework, peace negotiations, den meetings, grocery shopping, where did I last see things that weren't put away, what am I gonna make for dinner?

Then you fall asleep, but you're not exactly sleeping, since all your dreams are about chasing things or running from things, or trying to find lost things, and never having a minute to sit down. Strangely enough, it sounds a lot like being awake. So am I sleeping or am I not sleeping?

Which means I now have a better understanding of my Mom. By the time dinner is over I'm just ready to go to bed. I don't know that I'll actually be sleeping, but one can always dream.

Raising children and growing a parent

I've always been the quiet type. Mostly introverted, I think I went through most of my high school years with my nose in a book. I've grown and learned a lot in the intervening years, and now I can carry on a conversation with nearly anyone without thinking twice about it. In some ways, though, I am much the same person ... I like doing things I can work on mostly on my own, and helping out in ways that involve little to no fanfare. It's part of the reason I love research, and writing ... because I can do things I enjoy, but I do them mostly on my own. I occasionally teach a children's Bible class at church, but I'm not really comfortable doing it, because I'm not one who likes to be out in front of people ... I'd rather do my helping and encouraging of other people by listening when they need it, or cooking a meal to help out.

So what has this got to do with parenting? Well, a lot, actually.

Yes, I grew and matured in the years after I left school, but in all the ways that really mattered I was mostly the same person I had always been ... until I had children. Suddenly, I was in a world that I had no experience with. I couldn't even fall back on things like baby sitting, since I'd only ever done that job once. Somehow watching an 8-month-old for two or three hours (most of which time he was sleeping) hardly prepared me for keeping track of a family. And then almost nine years ago I brought my first child home from the hospital. Here I was, a mother ... the job I'd always wanted, and yet it was a nerve-wracking crash course in "Ack! What do I do now?" Sometimes it felt more like a demolition derby than a job well done. Sometimes it still does.

I have a one page article from a local magazine hanging on my refrigerator. It's been there for years, and once in a while I try to go back to it to remind myself of what this is all about. It is called "The Butterfly Effect", and the basic crux of the article is learning to change your life from something you don't like to something you do ... one thing at a time. You find some aspect of your life that you are unsatisfied with, and then you go about changing it to what you want it to be ... a little at a time, like a caterpillar changing into a butterfly. When you've accomplished that goal, you go on to the next thing, until your life becomes more of what you want it to be.

It's a lesson I'm continually learning as a parent. We learn a lot of things as we are growing up and attending school, but parenting is not one of them. Our children don't come with instruction books, and each child is different, so sometimes what applies to one doesn't apply to another. We can learn from our own parents (if we are fortunate), but those lessons have to be tempered by our own lives, situations, and priorities. We are trying hard to raise our children, but at the same time we are being required to grow as a parent.

Sometimes these lessons come from family, sometimes they come from something we read or hear, sometimes they just come from the experience of day to day life with our own family. I remember thinking several years ago that I felt like all I ever did was spend my days being angry and frustrated and yelling at my kids for their actions. That's not how I wanted to be remembered by my children when they were grown. So, I started an internal campaign to change things. It was a long, hard fight for me, but things have changed a lot. There are still times when I yell at my children, but they are much fewer and farther between now ... because of this, they are happier and so am I. I am much more relaxed as a parent with my third child than I ever was with my first, and I hope that carries over into how I care for all the members of my family now, each and every day.

Because of my family's medical history, I know it is possible that one day, perhaps long before I am ready, I may begin to lose my abilities to remember things, even the people I love most. But whether that happens or whether it doesn't, I am determined that I will grow as a parent ... I will do my best to become that beautiful butterfly my children will remember fondly. And with God's help, while I am growing I will be able to teach my own children these lessons, so that they can form beautiful wings of their own.

Me First!

Being a Mommy teaches you a lot of lessons. Some are practical hands-on lessons, some are gut-wrenching wear-you-out-emotionally lessons, and for me, some are reminders of the spiritual lessons that I already knew, but hadn't thought of in quite that way before.

Being a full-time Mommy doesn't allow a whole lot of time to put oneself first. I try to do things for myself once in a while, but a lot of times I am too busy to worry about things I want or sometimes even need, because I am busy caring for the ones that God has placed in my charge. That includes my husband and my children. I will buy them clothes every time if they are needed before I spend money on clothes for myself. I cater to their interests and their taste buds, and whatever else happens to come along. It doesn't really bother me, because I've learned that I can find great contentment in being able to do for others, especially those that I love. Once in a great while, I decide I want to do something for myself, but the rest of the time I try to do for them, because I love them.

I have three children under the age of nine. And boy children at that. I hear "Me first!" day in and day out ... over, and over, and over again. Well, except when I want to. They struggle for first place in so many things ... who is going to open the door, who is going to get the first plate at dinner time, who is going to play with a favorite toy. Of course, it's NEVER "Me first" when it comes to bath time, or bedtime or any of those kinds of things. They are brothers, and they are in a perpetual state of competition, and probably will be for many years to come. I talk to them of kindness, and respect, and consideration, and other Biblical principles, and I trust that with consistent reminders and a lot of prayer, they will eventually learn that "Me first!" is not necessarily the most important thing there is.

But I got to thinking about the whole "me first" mentality the other day, as I was out with my youngest running errands. A lady in another minivan just about ran me down, trying to get from the right lane (of three) into the left turn lane. Never looked, never signaled, just swerved over and just about took my front bumper and half my engine with her. I hit the brakes and sounded my horn, ("Wow, Mommy ... that was a loud horn!" said my four-year-old.), and I'm not sure she even noticed. She wasn't even on a cell phone. A day or so later someone else was behind me and trying to run me off the road because they were in such a hurry to get to wherever they were going. I shook my head, and got to wondering about adults (well, ok ... they're old enough to drive ... I don't know if they're adults) who've never outgrown the "ME FIRST!" mentality. It's as if they have no concept that the world even exists outside of their immediate proximity.

As that thought rolled around in my head over a couple of days, though, I began thinking about other ways that it can sometimes manifest itself ... mostly in ungodly ways. After all, when God has given us a standard to live by, and we choose not to follow it, isn't that what we are basically doing? Crying "Me first!"? Wanting what WE want above anything else?

"Well, I do what God wants me to do most of the time!" we protest. Which makes me think of James 2:10 ... "For whoever shall keep the whole law, and yet stumble in one point, he is guilty of all." In God's eyes, we are either law keepers or law breakers ... we can't be both. Can we really be the people God wants and expects us to be if we don't learn to step away from "Me first!"? This is the whole reason that we should, like Christ, pray "not my will but Thine be done." It's not always easy, but it is always right.

It's a lesson I knew, but was reminded of yet again by my children, and the people around me who are acting like children. And it's a lesson we could all, from time to time, use help remembering.

Learning about my Father by being a Mother

Yes, I'll admit it, and admit it freely. Some days with my children are extremely wearing. They have days when they do so well, and they have days when it seems like they can't listen, can't obey, can't anything. I suppose that's true of everyone, not just children, but sometimes it leaves me feeling emotionally and physically wiped out. Makes me want to go curl up in the bed and not come out until next week, but that's neither possible nor practical.

So, when that happens, I've learned that it's time to reorganize my thinking. Sometimes it takes me a little bit to remember it, but that's usually when I most need what the country singer used to call an "attitude adjustment". I have to remind myself that raising my children is not primarily about how I feel things are going. It's about me trying and trying and trying again, as many times as it takes, to teach my children the lessons they need to know to grow into the kind of men they should be. No one ever said it would be an easy task. No one ever said it would always be an enjoyable task. But it's the job I chose for myself, and it's my job to do the best I can at it.

Which got me to thinking the other day about a poem that my grandfather Glenn wrote years ago ... when my own father was only about two years old. It was called "Daddy, Fix It!", and spoke of how children look up to their fathers as being able to do it all. There was no problem too big or too small that couldn't be taken to Dad to be fixed. Broken toys or any number of other things ... the children came to him with confidence that "Dad will fix it!" The last verse of this poem, though, shifts gears ever so slightly, and compares a child's confidence in their Father to fix every problem to what our own attitude should be ... in taking our problems to God, with a plea that he help us fix it.

And so when my children can't seem to listen, and keep making the same mistakes again and again, I try to ask myself if God ever feels as impatient with me when I struggle with things in my own life, and keep fighting the same battles over and over? Does he shake his (imagined) head in disbelief at times, wondering if I'll remember to choose the right path, instead of the easy or habitual one? As I have learned, grown and matured, I have worked harder at making the right choices and being the best person I can be. I have faith that he will be compassionate when I come before him in prayer, head hanging, and tell him of some known or perceived wrong, and tell him I'm sorry, because I know he loves me and only wants what is best for me. Can I really expect that my children, in the long run, will be any different? It takes time, and it takes patience, but they learn, grow and mature every day. I am guiding them along the path that I walk, so that we can all reach the same destination.

Taking the time to stop and remember the love of my Father, reminds me to reflect that love to my children, especially on days when they least seem to "deserve" it. Because that is when they need it most. And because being a good Mother is something I am constantly trying to learn from the Father of us all.