I know I put my heart some where…

Parenting for me has been somewhat mechanical. This machine like quality has carried me through some rough times. There are so many new Mother’s at our church, and I caught myself remembering back to this time of baby-hood where I started down the slide of unresponsiveness. You see it’s hard to always respond to the Holy Spirit immediately when you have a baby attached to your chest, your toddler has “gotta go potty”, or your older child is flexed in anxiety. Sometimes your feelings are so strong, you are apart of how the Spirit might be moving or working in a group, but your primary reflex is the child by your side.

So, you don’t say anything, you don’t go forward, you don’t say anything to
the person in need, and your prayers get turned inside out by the temper
tantrum transforming before your eyes.

Personally, this ‘setting aside’ of my inclinations became a pattern.
I accepted that this was just not my time in life to be apart of the group, and it
appeased my already aloof nature just fine. I worked hard at what was going
on in the temporal world, things that I could control. But the ever-present
guilt of not following the Spirit immediately remained.

All of us Mom’s have to push past sleep deprivation, painful relationships,
loss of relationships, homesickness, and numerous personal issues so that
we can just feed the baby. Somebody still has to, it’s great that my husband
can stop everything to get ‘right’ with God, but somebody still has to make
the peanut butter and jellies, wash the dirty laundry, smile and kiss the sticky
faces and fingers. But in the process I was never dealing with the pain or joy
on the inside, so what was going on in my soul never showed itself in my
outward state. I stifled my response, to the point I didn’t know what I felt.
I literally thought, “Who cares what you feel, feelings are here today and
gone tomorrow.” My heart was grievously misplaced. Why didn’t the will
that could push through life’s upsets push back to the Spirit-Father when the
children were asleep and the husband was away? The satisfaction of a clean
house and a tidy demeanor replaced my need for Him.

Seven years later I was still so busy trying to be responsible for everyone
else I forgot how to respond to my God and King. I watched in awe at
younger, more ‘heart healthy’ women respond to the Lord in a church
service with such exactness that I could not understand.

I remember thinking how do you do that? How do you put your feelings first, know that
they are pure feelings, and then follow through? I had forgotten a boldness
from my youth. The Creator God who made me to worship still wanted a
relationship with me that was more than militant. He reminds me that he
wants me to want Him, He wants to know what I feel, and yet I cannot seem
to articulate what I feel. The God I thought was my very useful, highly
acclaimed, commanding officer wanted to hold my hand and remind me who
I was. He came and searched my heart for things of my spirit because He
cares so much. Much enraged I lifted my fist at Him and said, “How dare
you, I can’t even get into my heart, how did you?” Where is that heart of
mine anyway?

Now, I know that my personality isn’t exactly constructed for doing a jig
around the church or even shouting out a hearty ‘amen’. But, I have found
myself crying out to God asking him, “Could you just make the head and the
heart work at the same time, and don’t forget to help my lips move.” It is
really hard for me, I would much rather secure my position on the line than
have to hear the utterance of my voice at any point. This is my struggle.

There is a reason while 1 Tim 2:15 says, “and she will be saved through
childbearing,” it’s because you have to stay true to your first Love who will
give you faith, love, holiness and self-control despite the demands your other
love’s throw at you. If you are in the middle of a diaper change, a sick little
one, a behavior issue, when the Lord comes near look full into His face and
catch His care for you. Don’t be like this writer and misunderstand that He
doesn’t want you to drop the baby so you can stand at attention. He just
wants your heart and that is something you give with full arms and a heavy
load.

Grace and Peace to You.

The day after the clocks turn back.

Monday after any time change come much to quickly for me despite the supposed extra hour of sleep that my son didn't know we were to have. I managed to wield a great school day, but as 4:15 snuck up on me and I realized that it was getting dark and I had three loads of clothes to fold, supper to get into the crock pot, and a task list to make for my husband to complete so we could all enjoy a meal together. I mechanically worked through the tasks at hand, and was patting myself on the back as I made another sock snowball for the drawer. That's when I hear my nine year old scolding my five year old about the mess he had made on the kitchen floor. I was actually noting the maternal tone to her voice, and thinking about how exalting it is to hear her God given ability to scold play out before my ears. Well, I should have gone to check on the son who had been reminded to clean up his mess. I made it downstairs with no minutes to spare before we high-tailed it to swim practice, when I found the dog's water had been upset into a pool on the kitchen floor. Dog and child were splashing about in it. I wanted to sop them up with the water and ring them out.

Now, the spirit-filled, God fearing woman that I am should have said, "We all make messes, now help Moma clean them." But oh no, I had to grip the child by the shoulder and shake him just so as to make his teeth rattle. Which he took note of, and began humming in the back of his throat so it made that sound that kids like to make when they hum while going over bumps in the car. This produced a giggle from the child who I was shaking which just sent me over the edge. I pulled his body to mine and whacked his back quarters three times rather harshly. He then produced a pout and an impenitent sob. Dish towels (we all know they are just for dishes) and a nearby rug served as mops and we all got into the car. After replaying the past 10 minutes in my head, feeling the guilt rush in, and the "I can't believe I lost it like that" come from my mouth. I said, "D, can you forgive me for shaking you." And he does, every time.

I made an agreement with me that I was going to chill out and just pray and think while we waited for practice to end. The swimmers came out of the pool to awaiting towels, and as I escorted my swimmer to the family locker room I vaguely remembered noticing a sludge coming from her shoes. After arrival to the locked changing room I verified caked mud from the bottom and inside of her favorite sandals. There was a mud puddle the size of large pie around her feet. The exchange she made with my eyes was irrevocably, fear. First the old lady sigh came from my pit, and then the eyebrow, usually the right, one signifying I am done. She apologizes immediately, four years on her little brother, she knows that it's best to just confess and apologize. I had to let the tongue go again, dog gone it, and I roughly shoved her foot into one pant leg and manhandled the other wet leg into the warm-up clothes. Once again in a two hour time frame I was using absorbent anything to tackle a mess I did not make. I don't know what I said before this, but I have a name I call her when she has slowed me down, "Are ya ready Gertrude?" It is a weak and evil thing to mock a child. I wished that I hadn't done it as soon as I did. She looked down and said, "I don't know where all that mud came from."

The car ride was quiet and I was so looking forward to dinner and a table ready for the mess making, mess cleaning bunch. The cook had lost track of time and was scrambling to cover up the fact that he had not followed his list. This talented individual who calls me help-mate forgot to put the pre-packaged all white meat nuggets in the oven.

After tucking my daughter into bed, she smiled at me (I couldn't believe it either), and said, "You really gave it to Daddy." And this is when you say...

I didn't give anything good, in fact, I could have given grace to you, your brother, and your Dad, but I didn't and I am really sorry. I need Jesus to help me see that messes are made for us to see that we just need Him to help us clean 'em.

Grace giving God, help me to give good gifts to my kids, to anyone in my reach, and mend the ears of my kids from the foolish things I said today. That cup of tea never tasted so good after the goodnights were said, the dishes were done, and the assorted wet articles went into the washer.