Give Thanks to the Lord

For the past several months, we have been working with (a) to learn some memory verses.  I chose some key Biblical truths that I really wanted him to learn to stand on, and one by one he has memorized them.  But more importantly that just memorizing words, we have wanted him to learn what they MEAN and how to use God’s word in our lives, so at any appropriate opportunity, we have used those verses as life applications to help him understand.  When he was scared about some things that were keeping him up at night, we used his verse, “Do not be afraid, for I am with you” (Isaiah 43:5).  When he was worried about a situation we remembered, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart” (Proverbs 3:5).  And I try, every chance I get, to quote them to him in my life and situations surrounding our family so that he will see how we apply God’s word in our lives. 

A few weeks ago, there was a little bit of a scare at daycare one afternoon when a car went out of control and missed slamming into the daycare playground by just a few feet.  It happened shortly before I arrived to pick up the boys for the day, and as (a) was retelling the tale to me I didn’t think much about it- he does have his mother’s flare for telling a dramatic story.  But then the daycare owner filled me in a little more, and it really was kind of a scary story.  All I could think was how different things could have been if that car had come plowing through the playground where (a) and his daycare friends were all playing.  The frightening reality was a bit emotional for me, and as we discussed it, I quoted another one of his verses to him, “Give thanks to the Lord for He is good” (Psalm 136:1) and we talked about how fortunate it was that God was looking after them. 

This past weekend, much to (a)’s excitement, we decorated our house for Christmas.  (A) climbed up in the attic for me and dragged down the boxes of decorations and my multiple Christmas trees.  As most tree boxes do, there are pictures on the outside of the box that show what the tree looks like.  When (a) came into the room and discovered the boxes sitting out he was thrilled, and with a huge amount of excitement he threw his hands up in the air and announced, “I found a great Christmas tree! Give thanks to the Lord!!”  It was hilarious to us, but it also made my heart pitter patter… on his own he had chosen to quote part of one of his verses, in a context that he truly meant.  He was full of excitement, and chose to “give thanks to the Lord.”  The discovery of the tree really wasn’t a huge deal in the grand scheme of life, it wasn’t even set up yet, but even in that little thing, he chose to give thanks.

The excitement really grew as we put up the tree and decorated it!

In this week of Thanksgiving, I have thought a LOT about that announcement.  How often do I remember, even in small everyday things, to give thanks to the Lord?  When I saw safety from a potential catastrophe, I gave thanks to the Lord, but when I live out those “regular” every day moments, do I give thanks to the Lord?  When I spend the afternoon with a lap full of giggles- give thanks to the Lord.  When they both finish dinner and have full, happy bellies- give thanks to the Lord.  When we have safe travels on a trip that has become so routine to us- give thanks to the Lord.  When we spend an evening snuggled on the couch having fun with our family- give thanks to the Lord.  When we get to pay the month’s bills to provide for our family- give thanks to the Lord. 

There are so many moments each day that I should take the time to stop and be thankful, not just in the big things, but in the small, simple such as discovering the Christmas tree box.

As we celebrate today, I know my family’s schedule is full, and I know my belly will be full, but more than anything, my heart is full… “Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.  His love endures forever.” Psalm 136:1

Happy Thanksgiving from One Life Out Loud!!

The Gift of Compassion

I am going to be painfully honest with you… this has not been a gold-star parenting week at our house.  I wish I could tell you our life is all sunshine and roses and every smiling social media photo you saw of us gave an accurate picture- but that would be total lie.  When I began the ministry of One Life Out Loud, I vowed that it would be just that- an honest “life out loud” glimpse into what I am experiencing and how God is shaping me.  So, while I’m pretty embarrassed to recount the last few days for you, I’m going to do it anyway, because it is the truth.

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For the past year, (a) has been at war with sleep.  We have no trouble getting him to bed at night (well, no more than the typical three year old), but he does not stay in bed.  He is up multiple times in the night, every night, and we cannot find a solution for the problem.  Trust me- we have tried nearly everything you can imagine.  As a result of the lack of sleep, we often find ourselves dealing with a cranky, unreasonable child.  Sunday morning was no exception to our problem of his typical exhaustion, however it was an exception to our usual routine… it was (b)’s baby dedication Sunday at church.  We were blessed to have family and friends make the trip to be with us for the service, and since “our people” were there, (a) chose to stay with us in the sanctuary instead of going to children’s church.  During the service he was a little more active and noisier than I would have liked, but his body language made it very clear he was fighting sleep.  I was hopeful that most people wouldn’t be able to notice due to where we were sitting, however during the last song of the service he escaped the pew and ran up to the front where (A) was wrapping up the service.  I winced a little, but reminded myself that it did look sweet to see the preacher standing up front with his little boy in his arms.  THEN, it came time for the last two baby dedications and the fight for sleep became intense.  As (A) sat him down, he proceeded to lay in the middle of the stage steps, and then cried in front of the entire church when he had to move.  I was horrified.  I was embarrassed, we work SO hard at impressing politeness and appropriate behavior and here in front of the whole church he was NOT showing that he had any clue how he should be acting. 

We managed to survived the next few minutes and made sure he had a great nap that afternoon, however after evening service we had a reboot of the tears (very LOUD tears) because Daddy had to stay after for a meeting and (a) REALLY wanted him to come home with us.  As I was strapping him into his car seat he continued to sob for his daddy.  At that time, two ladies I love and admire walked out of the church toward their own cars and overheard the tears.  I was horrified, as this was the second time in one day they were witnessing a meltdown and I was feeling like a complete failure as a mom.  They both detoured from their own cars and headed over my direction.  What happened next was such a blessing.  Instead of commenting on the behavior of my exhausted three-year-old, they reminded me that they had been there too once, and that no one is judging our parenting as harshly as I am.  One of them hugged me and praised my patience with him while the other reminded me that it was ok to ask for help when I need an extra hand.  Their gracious compassion almost brought me to tears.  I had spent a lot of emotional energy that day stressing over the situation, and to have someone (or two someones) react with love and support meant the world to me.

There have been some moments of sweetness between tears!

I wish I could tell you the rest of the week got better, but I’m being brutally honest, so I will admit we had a repeat performance of exhausted tears in “The Green Store” (Dollar Tree) Monday evening.  And this time, as (a) fell to the floor crying (b) decided to start crying as well.  I frantically tried to gather them both and get checked out to escape as quickly as possible.  I was frustrated because we really hadn’t finished getting everything we needed, but I knew I needed to cut my losses and get out of there.  As I checked out with both boys crying, I was on the verge of tears myself.  I didn’t even want to meet the cashier’s eyes because I was so embarrassed.  However, her face was full of compassion as she kindly said, “He is over-tired isn’t he?” I admitted that he was and apologized for his crying.  Her voice was reassuring as she went on to tell me she had a little one also and completely understood the shoes I was standing in.  She graciously asked in the same gentle voice if I needed any help out to the car.  It was only one bag, so I was sure I could do it, but I thanked her profusely for her offer and her understanding.  A second act of compassion, as I was about to chalk myself up as the worst mother in the world, had been a game changer for me. 

There were still some pretty stiff consequences when we arrived home for the “Green Store” meltdown, and I have no answers as to how we fix this not sleeping/exhaustion problem.  But I do know this… compassion is a precious gift.  Three ladies in 24 hours reminded my heart why it is so important to reach out in love.  They could easily had avoided us and walked to their cars or the cashier could have been huffy with me for the loud scene we were making in her store, but none of them did- they instead touched my heart.

As we head into a season that gets busy and sometimes stressful, I am promising myself I am going to look for opportunities to gift others with compassion.  It may be just what their heart needs to hear.

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Lamentations 3: 22-23

Speaking My Language

My (a) has lots of friends.  But, I often hear him rambling to them about the things he likes and they have no idea what he is talking about.  He wants to play rodeo, he wants to talk about feeding cows and doing chores- but most of his friends have no idea what he is talking about, they simply don’t “speak his language.”  Every now and then, he gets the chance to play with another kiddo his age who DOES understand him, and to me, it is the most precious thing to watch.

Over the weekend, the boys and I made a trip to Indiana to visit friends and family.  While we were there, we spent a few hours at a rodeo clinic my brother-in-love was helping teach, and (a) got to play with another boy his age who was also thrilled to be running around in boots, climbing on the rodeo dummies, and discussing horses and events.  (a) was over the moon!  His whole body language and style of play changes when he plays with someone who “speaks his language.”  The smile on his face is a little bigger and getting him to leave is nearly impossible.

I have to admit, sometimes in life I feel the same way.  While I have never had the privilege of traveling overseas, I have been in some situations where I felt like no one else “spoke my language.”  It can be hard to feel comfortable, it can be hard to relate, and sometimes even surrounded by people, you can feel all alone.  While I realize it is often important to step out of your comfort zone, and it is sometimes necessary to learn a new “language”, other times, it can be just as important to find a group of like-minded people for support.

By Sunday morning of our trip, I was getting tired of driving.  I had already done several hundred miles in the car as the only adult with two little (often impatient) travelers, but I had promised myself I was going to get us up and ready early enough to drive the 60+ miles from my parents’ house to our church home in Indiana for worship. I had then made lunch plans with our closest friends and all their kiddos.  My road-weary body almost got the best of me and I began to have thoughts of backing out, but I didn’t… and as the day progressed, I was SO glad I had made the trip.  I was incredibly blessed to visit with so many wonderful friends at church- friends who had loved us and prayed for us through our ministry transition, worshiping with the body who put our hearts back together when we were hurt… then sharing the afternoon with dear friends who speak my language.  While our little loves played together, we talked faith and parenting, jobs, and “life.”  One by one, the kiddos had little meltdowns as we visited long past everyone’s nap time, and I realized it was a rare occasion where I didn’t feel stressed out or embarrassed by that- because these friends speak my language.  I didn’t have to apologize for his exhausted behavior or the baby’s hungry crying- our kids are all in the same stages, we speak the same language. 

As we finally got ready to leave, I commented on how beautiful and heartbreaking these visits are for me.  While it breaks my heart that we don’t see each other as often as we used to, it is a precious reminder of how much love and life our four families share.  Because we speak the same language, we can go months without seeing each other yet pick right back up where we left off. 

It was a precious reminder my heart needed, that we were made to live in community.  We can’t survive on our own, we were never meant to.  We need a support system to encourage us in our faith, in our life, we need people who “speak our language.”

“All the believers were together and had everything in common.  They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need.  Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts.  They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all people.  And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.” Acts 2: 44-47

Slinky Life

Do you remember the Slinky? When those things are first out of the box all the coils lie so beautifully on top of each other- it is fun to play with and bounces back easily.  However… if you stretch it too far, too many times, it is going to bounce on top of itself, get tangled up, and be rendered useless.  Just this week I looked at one of (a)’s Slinky toys and told him I thought he and his friends had played with it a little too hard one too many times.  But yet I put it back on the shelf, because I remembered a Slinky from my own childhood that looked about that rough. 

I remember trying and trying to untangle my Slinky myself, and the mess was just getting worse.  In frustration, I was just going to throw it out because I thought it was beyond repair.  But my dad was watching, and he suggested I bring it to him and let him see if he could help me out.  He pulled out the vice grips he always wore in a pouch on his belt, and he patiently began working to untangle my Slinky.  It was not a quick process, but he was patient with tangles like that, and just kept working at it.  I remember that I went to bed that evening while he was still working on it.  I wasn’t so sure it could be done, but I trusted my dad’s capable hands.  When I awoke the next morning, I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by my dad with the Slinky that he had untangled.  It wasn’t without a little bend here or there in the metal where the kinks had been worked out, but it was back in working order thanks to his loving care.

I can’t lie… there are some areas of my life right now where I feel like a tangled Slinky.  I have been stretched so thin that I am just all tangled up… exhausted, frustrated, out of patience, and barely hanging on by a thread.  And if you have ever played with a Slinky you know this… when it gets tangled on one end, and you try in frustration to fix it… you end up just getting it tangled in more places.  Before long the whole things is a mess.  This week I have been seeing that the frustration and stress I am feeling in some areas of life is beginning to spill over into others… causing more tangles.  Last night with tears in my eyes I sat to take a deep breath (and feed the baby- because in this season I don’t get time to just sit, only sit, and take a deep breath).  As I took that deep breath, I realized that I was feeling tangled in so many areas because I was trying in frustration to fix it all.  It was time to put my mess in the patient hands of someone who could help me untangle my Slinky life. 

Frankly, I don’t have the ability to fix the problems I am feeling.  I’m not in control of many of them, and truthfully, I’m not the cause of most of them… but the way I am reacting to them is the cause of much of my stress.  The thing is, I know someone who can help me untangle my Slinky, and it is time to do what I should have been doing all along… let Him help me.  There will probably still be a bend or dent here or there, because all my stressors aren’t going to magically go away. But I will feel a lot more functional, and there won’t be tangles spilling over into other areas of my life if I hand it over to my Father and let Him help me.  If I trust Him to remind me how to react to situations I can’t control, and let Him guide me in how to stop living in frustration, and just hand him my Slinky life.

“Cast all your anxieties on Him, because he cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7