Mother's Day really is for the birds

It's no surprise to me that Ann Voskamp writes so truthfully and beautifully about Mother's Day.

I about cried reading her words, my soul needed them. This is the week that I told Matt, "If I have to listen to her cry another minute, I might hurt her." This is the week that I begged God to let my kids nap so that I could also, only to have my third born poke me endlessly in the eye. This is the week that I sautéed fava beans in their pods thinking they were just big green beans because I can't tell my beans from beans. This is the week that I drove through McDonalds again for a large chocolate chip frappe because chocolate and caffeine are the only legal drive-through fixes to another crappy parenting day. This is the week that I vowed self-discipline, to wake up before the kids for quiet time and a jog, only to curse my alarm, and stick my head back under the covers.

Ann's right. Mother's Day, it's for the birds.

My days don't make for a flowery poetic Hallmark card. 

My days find me carrying around that satan soaked momma guilt as I confess to counting down the minutes, hours, days before my next break from the kids. 

My days are full of less than holy words and tone, and a whole lotta grace. Grace for me. Grace for the kids. Grace for us all.

But the pendulum swings and sunshine breaks the clouds and pudgy baby toes and sweet boy laughter and girl praying precious over her macaroni brings me back to joy overflowing, immense gratitude for the three who left me stretch-marked and heart-stretched.

So to you mommas, you can't fool me. You and me both, sister, we just a broken hallelujah. 

You never thought it would be this hard, did you? You never thought you'd swallow your pride like you do?

Me neither.

And I bet you never thought you could love like this? That breathless lump in your throat when you think about just how much you love the ones who graced you into motherhood.

Bless it. Bless you.

How we finished out 2012 . . . in pictures.

  

 

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Amen.

Center

I wake only a few hours into the new day, pulling back hair and lacing up shoes. I step outside and smack into the icy black.

The darkness makes bright contrast of the stars, and I am joy filled. Only the early bird catches the wonder and glory that a 6am jog offers. I begin rhythmically, slowly, still shaking loose the tension from dead sleep. I begin my offering.

Lord, you are Creator. You are Perfect. You are Holy. You are Majesty. You are Awesome.

With each breath, I praise. I inhale, I worship. I'm alone. Except for Him. And He makes perfect company.

The next 30 minutes I focus on His glory. Except when I don't.

I have to pick up the preschool forms today.

I forgot to call the dentist.

I better clean the window where Henry taped the picture of the airplane.

Did I mail in the mortgage check? I need to set-up automatic monthly withdraw.

I totally blew her off yesterday. Why was I such a grump? Why can't I just be nice to people when I'm in a bad mood? What's wrong with me? Is it that hard?

My mind like mexican jumping beans, shuffling from thought to thought, checklists, regrets, self-doubt, and now my heart is racing but not because I'm jogging.

I shake my head fast as if to clear the etched sketch that needs reset.

Now where was I?

Focus, Ali. Focus on Him.

And I do. Back on track, thanking Him for the peace that stills my soul. For 30 minutes I pray, I distract, and I pray again.

I approach home feeling centered, having hit the ground running, while fixing my eyes on Him, or at least trying to anyway.

The minis wake, I begin this all too familiar juggling act, but unlike the carny, I can't seem to master this set.

Back to center, Ali. Back to Him.

I herd them outside to the van. It's Tuesday and we have to be at Bible study in 20 minutes. I double-click the key expecting the doors to open. They click. And nothing. I double-click again. Nothing. The doors don't budge and it's freezing and I know that's why. I open the front door and find the ice scraper, and while the baby cries and the big ones tug at the other's unbuttoned coat, I scrape. Ice chips away and flurries sweep. I pull out the key again. Click. Nothing. Again. Nothing. The doors are still frozen and it's been ten minutes and we are going to be late. I climb on top of the front seat, leaning heavily out the door thinking if I can just see where the ice is maybe I can get this dang-gone door open. The baby is now screaming and Harper is now crying and I try the key again, but the door still won't budge. We are definitely late and nothing is working and I take that scraper and with all the might behind me I strike the door. Pop. The scraper cracks and splits in two and I am now cussing. Words that begin with F and I feel rage and I scream at the kids, all freezing and crying, "Get in the van. This way. Now." The big ones crawl through the front door, and I jostle the baby in her carrier, hitting my head and hers and I'm sweating and still cussing.

I throw the car into reverse and I'm a bat out of hell. I've lost it. A door frozen shut and it's all lost. My cool, my sanity, my Jesus.

Just like that I've lost center and I pull over because humility does that. And with my hands in the air, I'm like that crazy ol' loon on the park bench mumbling to herself because I'm lost.

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.
Hebrews 4:16

Look to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith . . .
Hebrews 12:2

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
2 Corinthians 12:9

The quiet still of my soul in the morning runs out but there is always more for the taking. I have to keep coming back to Him because on my own, I am a raging screaming loon.

Each day, each hour, each minute, I am losing myself to stress and monotony and the demon who sneaks up and bites me. I can't do this alone but I keep trying, forgetting that it was never meant to be this way.

"It is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you. But if I go, I will send Him to you."
John 16:7

And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper, to be with you forever, even the Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him. You know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you.
John 14:16-17

I'm not made to do this by myself. He sent me a Helper. And I come dehydrated, shriveled, dry and sunken.

. . . but be filled with the Spirit.
Ephesians 5:18

Back to center. That is the story of my days. Always coming back. Because I can never stay put. My flesh rots and I crumble and there isn't a day that passes that I don't wind up lost.

Back to center. It's my only way.

His Presence via email

Have you ever felt the Lord's Presence so heavily that you literally sunk deeper in your chair?

Last week was rough. Looking back, it's a blur. I was so exhausted, the days were so long, and the kids were so fussy that the memory of last week is nearly lost.

I know that the Lord was busily at work during every sleepless detail of last week but I was too irritable to appreciate it.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

This morning I sent my husband and my sister an email to share with them a Henry & Harper quote. It said:

H&H were running laps around the house, and both of them came into the family room huffing and puffing. Henry said, "I'm tired." Then Harper said, "I'm tired too. Let's read our Bibles, Henry."

Within 20 minutes of sending the email I received responses from both Matt and Morgan.

Matt said, "Love them . . . Matthew 11:28 Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."

I stinkin' adore this man. While I'm over here laughing at the silliness of my three-year-old, my husband, a man of few spoken words but a tremendous amount of wisdom, manages to observe the beautiful Truth from this seemingly cute illustration. I want to soak myself in a Matthew 11:28 bath for a few days.

Morgan's response was equally lovely.

She said, "Those moments have to melt your heart . . . Love that. I booked you a pedicure with Dawn on Friday. I'm watching your kids."

Oh, Morgan, you speak my love language = Dawn (and I have a gift card that Matt gave me for Mother's Day - thank you, Jesus). I have known (and loved) Dawn for years. Her chair at the Spa where my sister works is heaven-sent. It sits next to a window that looks out at a sanctuary of birdhouses, and when I sit in that chair and watch those birds, without a single interruption from my kids, I become a new woman. A new woman with cute toes.

I received Matt and Morgan's emails and I was instantly overwhelmed by the Lord's merciful Presence. I want to sit here and rest in their unexpected and simple acts of love as I know it will only be minutes before I lose sight of His goodness. Thankfully Lamentations 3 never expires.

Already

The kids were still in their swimsuits sucking down popsicles when I blinked. I opened my eyes to the warmth of Autumn in the trees and its chill prickling my shoulders. The clerk mentioned he was staying late to unpack Christmas inventory and by the time I lifted my head to comment Already?, the twinkle lights were wrapped around the display tree.

Already.

The pool towels hadn't even made it through the wash before the kids were hooded in fleece. I'm never ready for the already.

The notebook pages curl as I carry over the list of unchecked items to next month. Vacuum the van. Mend the hole in my overworn shirt. Send congratulatory wedding card to my friend who married last Spring.

I pray through each moment, asking that the leaves keep their glorious shades of orange and that  Greta's chubby foot is forever nestled below my shoulder as I nurse. All while fantasizing about the day when the kids use the bathroom unassisted and my wardrobe isn't limited to nursing tops and elastic. I want to co-sleep yet sleep through the night. I want a substantial payday yet not another long day away from my husband. I want to be home with my children yet have more time for myself. I want that pair of pre-baby jeans yet another of Grandma Abby's pumpkin cookies.

I want the already but I don't. I'm a mess and it's no wonder Paul preaches about the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

And when I think I've arrived, when I am full and surrounded abundantly, emptiness and discomfort come and plop down on my lap. My present focus flees as they squelch my contentment. The next stage and season bring more to be desired. And it all flies past, the days only a blur leaving nothing in focus.

There is always more space for me to be filled by Him . . . through Him who gives me strength.

It is already October. I want to sprawl out on a pile of leaves covered in the giggles of my babies, drinking in this season. But my mind is my enemy, squandering the days with angst and if onlys, allowing Facebook to fool me into believing that there is such a thing as having it all. So I find myself crying out, enduring my own wrath, my irritability and frantic demands. My own mess throws me to my knees, I fall bruised and sore. And in the already He lifts me up by His grace and fills me with living water and I kick myself for not falling sooner. There is humility in His timing. 

It is already.

 

*A sprinkling of the moments I want to savor from the last month as I pray to be present and content in the already.

A God story. The finale.

In case you missed them: Part 1 and Part 2.

A couple of weeks after telling Josh & Jess that we would happily be their squatters, I was having ice cream with a friend. Sharon is middle-age, single, and has made the decision to follow God's call into vocational missions. She believes God is sending her to Papua New Guinea. Say that three times fast. Sharon has found an organization called The Finishers Project, and they focus on helping folks who want to finish their lives in mission for the Lord. I just love that.

Anyway, Sharon is potentially months from her move to Papua New Guinea, and she was recently confronted with an issue regarding her current living situation. Her lease will end next month and it makes no sense for her to sign another lease. She could change from a year lease to a month-to-month rental contract but her rent would increase significantly. Considering that Sharon is working to save save save so that she can begin her missions journey, the month-to-month option is unwise. So when she found out about our situation with Josh & Jess, she asked me a question that I was not expecting, "Would you and Matt consider letting me live in your condo until I move?"

Um, huh?

Sharon completely caught me off guard. See, when we decided to move into Josh & Jess' house, we also decided to put our condo on the market once and for all. It was too perfect. We could stage the condo, throw the lockbox on the door, and walk away without ever pulling out that gallon of Sherwin Williams Desert Sand ever ever again. No more frantic toilet scrubbing and kids-dog-van disappearing tricks. Oh I could cry!

But God had given us a house. A rent-free bona fide house. And I owed it to Him and to my friend Sharon to at least pray about letting her live here. Plus, I knew that as soon as I asked Matt, he'd shoot the idea down, and I'd play the good ol' submit to my husband card and we'd be on our merry way to attached garage living.

I called Matt at work, told him about my interaction with Sharon, and continued in my head, I know, I know, I'll tell her it's just not going to work out. Surely someone else has a house they can loan her.

And then I realized what my husband was saying on the other end of the phone, "Honey, yeah, why wouldn't we let her live in our house?"

HUH?!

And just like that, I realized what a ridiculously ungrateful selfish brat I am to the core. It's a miracle that God has not capsized me and fed me to a giant fish.

Matt was all for it. Matt didn't even have to think about it. The fact that God made Matt my husband, to lead me and our family, is clearly no mistake.

God was giving us a house. A house we do not deserve. And God is asking us to give away our condo. The condo that we did not deserve.

And thus begins the lesson that He has been hammering into my skull over and over and over again ad nauseum. For real, I have this vision of the good Lord looking down on me and grabbing a trash can to catch his vom because once again, His little girl just ain't getting it.

And so I am humbled. Asking God to show me how to open my palms wide, allowing all the stuff to trickle between my fingers, never once tightening a muscle to hang on. God is showing us what it looks like to let His blessings flow. As He uses another family to provide for us, He uses us to provide for another. It's community. It's the Gospel. It's Jesus.

And so we are moving. In fact, we are moving 5 years to the day after meeting at the altar. And I am so thankful. I am so thankful for God's provision. His timing. His faithfulness. His promises.

I could go on and on. A friend who recently heard about this story said, "It's dripping with mercy." And it is. His mercy abounds. Because each and every day I take the gifts from my Lord and I squander them. I throw away leftovers and spend too much on too much and I question His ways that are not my ways. And yet He continues to provide for me in ways that I could never ever imagine.

I am drenched in His mercy.

And as I sit here overcome by His love, I can do nothing but shake my head and ask, "Why me? Why us?" It makes no sense.

And I guess that's just the point.

A God story. (Part 2)

Read Part 1 here.

It was THE.HOTTEST.DAY.OF.THE.YEAR. For real, I think it was the hottest day we had this year. Matt claims it was the second hottest, but second hottest day of the year is a mouthful, so let's just stick with my story, k? I add this small detail only because if the bushes were going to spontaneously catch fire, it would have been that day. It was scorching.

My phone rang. It was my friend, Jess. I don't talk to Jess on the phone much. In fact it had been a while. So when she called I immediately assumed she was calling to ask me a question, you know, she had an agenda. And then it hit me. As quickly as I thought, "Huh, that's Jess calling," I thought, "Oh my gosh, she's calling me about her house." I just knew it (cue the Holy Spirit.)

Jess and I small-talked. It was good small talk. Like I said, we hadn't chatted in a while. We had some catching up to do. And she was gearing up for the move of her lifetime. Her husband's company was transferring them to London. ENGLAND! And if any two people are more perfectly fit for an international transfer, it's Josh & Jess. They are the super cool traveling type. Jess is the kind of person who straps her baby on her back and shuffles between time zones with ease. I sort of hate her. But I really love her so it's cool.

Small talk ceased and Jess wanted to get to the point. CUE THE HOLY SPIRIT. Jess went into this whole long explanation about their pending move and Josh's promotion being a 2-year assignment and some whacky living allowance formula and the bottom line was that it made no sense for them to sell their house while they were gone. The only thing that made sense financially was for them to ask someone to live in their home and care for it while they were away.

So they prayed. And prayed and prayed and prayed. And they got their friends to pray. Because it was their bloody house and they weren't about to hand over the keys to any ol' chap.

And don't ask me why. I don't know why. It makes no sense why. But God put US on their hearts. US. A family of 2 adults and THREE very small kids. And an EIGHTY POUND dog. And two fish, but whose counting? Our kids are in the color-the-walls stages. And our dog, well, he's just big and hairy but really, why us? Why not the sweet and tidy widowed homemaker who boasts 2011 Notary Club Garden of the Year and who answers the question, "When did you last clean your baseboards?" with Two weeks ago Friday, unlike my answer, Never.

Why us? Why?

And that's when Jess dropped the big one. They not only wanted us to live in their home but they wanted us to live in their home RENT FREE.

As in no rent. As in free. As in, what-the-what?

I told you the bushes were on fire.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that God was giving us the opportunity to live in a real bona fide house and we weren't even going to pay for it. IT MADE NO SENSE.

Until it started to make sense.

You see, that's only half of the story. The first half of the story is awesome. The kind of awesome where I'll forever be able to say with confidence that God is our Provider. The kind of awesome that allows me to talk about the blessing of a home in terms of me and my wants and desires and Yay! God!

But I don't think that's the point. I didn't even mention to you that up until one week before Jess called, my husband and I were one payment away from paying off some serious credit card debt. And I mean serious. It was one week after sending in our final credit card payment that Jess called about the house. One week. Coincidence? I don't think so.

And the not-coincidences don't stop there. But this is already a multi-part post so I'll spare you the list, but know this: God has been orchestrating this very moment for years. And to see all of these little moments come together for this big moment is one of the coolest things I have ever been a part of.

Part 3, the finale, tomorrow.