Permission to Be Beautiful

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye.”

– Miss Piggy, The Muppets

 

While I start my morning ritual of scrambling eggs and blending our smoothies, my toddler daughter starts her own morning routine.  After at least 12 hours of beauty sleep (which is God’s gift to both of us!), she wakes up, finds her necklaces and shoes, and after adorning herself, she promptly grabs a baby doll or two, kisses them, and wheels them into the kitchen, snuggled up in their tiny pink stroller. 

When I’m rushing to get everyone out the door, making sure the boys have taken that last fateful trip to the bathroom, counting the number of diapers I have packed, and making sure I remember to look in the mirror myself, she’s waiting patiently to get her hair done.  She sits up straight and still, and always wants to look in the mirror when her styling is complete.

 

 

My husband and I laugh.  If you know me, you know how simple I am when it comes to my “routine.”  My hair is usually in a pony tail, and I have minimal makeup on, if any at all.  My only piece of jewelry that I sport 99% of the time is my wedding band.  So my pretty princess did not get her desire for all things pretty and shiny from me at all.

Her innate desire to be beautiful has caused me to sit back and wonder what God has written on her heart.  This was a deeper ponder than I wanted to have pondered.

Before my daughter entered into my life, I would have told you that beauty wasn’t important to me.  But now I can say that that would have been an ignorant, quickly dismissive statement.  Logically speaking, who doesn’t love to look at something beautiful?  Who doesn’t want to feel like they live in a beautiful place, or to vacation somewhere that they consider beautiful?  Who doesn’t appreciate the beauty of nature?  Who doesn’t notice a handsome man or a beautiful woman as they walk by?   We, by nature, appreciate beauty. 

Who doesn’t love a compliment?  Even in my hard-hearted days, a compliment made me feel alive inside, whether or not it showed outwardly.  And though we should not give other people’s opinions power over us, our emotions and our thinking, their words of encouragement tend to give us joy. 

 

Logically speaking, then, beauty is important to me.  I like beautiful things, and I love receiving an unexpected compliment.  Why then have I flippantly dismissed beauty for such a long time?

 

Well, my pondering has brought up many reasons.  And much (but not all) has to do with the way I grew up.  I didn’t have the mom figure telling me I was beautiful or guiding me through what I call “the awkward years.”  No one taught me how to dress for my figure, or do my hair and make up.  But arguably, many women, even with mothers, have that same absence in their lives. 

Some women take it upon themselves to learn, because they are honest with themselves that they desire to be beautiful.  No, not me.  I hid from it.  I saved all the insecurity of my awkward years in a box, right next to my 3 makeup items and hair appliances I rarely use.  And when I walk into the bathroom on a quest to look how I want to feel, instead of reaching for my mascara, I take out that box, sort through it while looking into the mirror, and walk out resigned to never be beautiful.

Now, I’m being totally honest here.  I have gone to enough teachings, enough small groups, and read enough books on what beauty is.  And I’m a firm believer that beauty does not define you.  It does not give you confidence.  It does not give you joy.  You know what it gives you?  Beauty.  It is, of itself, something to behold.  It is something created to celebrate.  And we are something created to celebrate. 

I watch my daughter adorn herself in the morning, and look at me with such joy.  I watch her older brothers finding her so adorable for acting so feminine.  And I wonder when and why I decided to not allow that freedom and that joy in my own life. 

I hid behind my intellect, reasoning that God looks at the heart, not the hair.  And that’s true!  Don’t get me wrong.  But my heart was not right.  Because instead of seeing myself as He sees me, I saw something different…something undesirable…something that wasn’t worth investing in.  And I hid behind the lies of busyness, and priorities, and excuses in order to not deal with my heart issues.

I hesitate to write all of this because it is difficult, especially for Christian women, to invest in themselves without feeling vain.  We don’t want to be that fleeting beauty, but we want that Proverbs 31 character.  While the Word says that God looks at the heart, He also looked at the beauty of His creation and saw that it was good. 

I think of all the times when my husband has paid me a compliment, and I’ve struggled so much because internally I’m thrilled but externally I roll my eyes and play it off.  I think of times when I get together with a friend and they tell me I look great and I begrudgingly say, Oh geeze, thanks, but I don’t feel great, completely not receiving that compliment.  And then I think of God looking at me, a created woman, and as He gazes on my, dare I say, beauty, He says that it is good.  Man, am I convicted. 

My beauty that He created is good.  I see that every time I watch my daughter twirl in a pretty dress, with her pigtails and necklaces.  She is beautiful and not vain.  She is beautiful and not proud.  She is beautiful and knows it, but does not chase after it.  I pray that she stays humble and confident, chasing after the eternal, but always knowing how precious and gorgeous she was made. 

So I decided to confide in a friend a few weeks ago about my quest for beauty.   And when I say friend, I mean the kind where you know that before you were born God just knew you were going to be friends forever kind of friend.  I confided in her because she has known me most of my life, knows all my secrets and insecurities as well as my strengths and confidences.  She is beautiful on the inside and out and knows how to make women feel the way they were created to feel.

We had a great conversation about how beauty is something that God made, and that is o.k. to want that.  I want my daughter to feel beautiful, but I think my heavenly Father probably wants that for me too.  I confided that I feared trying to look nice because I was afraid of what others would think…Oh, this is you trying to actually look nice?!   But through our conversation, I realized that I was perpetuating the same perversion of beauty that I logically tried to avoid.  I was placing my beauty in the context of other people and not my own. 

Here’s when the Miss Piggy quote comes in…I am beautiful.  And if others don’t agree, they probably just need a perspective adjustment.  I can list for you the things I don’t like about myself, but the power of life and death is in the tongue, and I want to appreciate who God made me inside and out.  While I know He looks at the heart, the way we perceive and fall out of gratitude for who He made us on the outside can start to make our hearts grow sick.  I am on a journey of health and wellness, and it includes healing my heart from years of insecurity and denial and embracing the way He knit me together uniquely and divinely. 

The Epilogue:

Here’s the fun part!

My very beautiful friend, who I confided in, asked me to meet her at her house last night for a surprise.  She’s a make up artist, and I had asked her to give me a few tips to update my look.  She did such an amazing job of accenting all the beauty in my face, teaching me little tips and tricks along the way.  After our make up session, she whisked me off to a beautiful salon to get a new cut and some styling tips from a really great hair stylist.  I felt as if there should have been cameras following us along on our journey!  I was living a real life make over totally steered solely by my very own friend.  She went out of her way to schedule time with me, which is no small task for a busy mom of three little boys!  She set everything up ahead of time, even sending my picture to the salon so that they could be ready with some ideas.  And when I walked out feeling fresh and new, we went out and laughed and had some great conversation.  It was a night I will never forget! 

I woke up this morning with my newly styled hair and makeup tips and took only about 10-15 minutes to put myself together.  Hmm, it’s not that difficult after all.  And I made myself a promise.  My friend thought I was beautiful and wanted to invest in me, and I want to steward that investment.  Instead of looking at my flaws, I’m going to enjoy the beauty God has given me.  So without further adieu, I proudly present you with an updated me...and it feels great!

 

I want my daughter to see the world through His eyes.  In a culture obsessed with looks, trends, and perfection, I know it will be a challenge to keep her eyes focused on what matters most at times. But I want her to see herself the way God sees her…the way her dad and I see her.  She is absolutely stunning.  She is amazing.  I treasure her beauty, and she has inspired me to treasure my own. 

 

 

What I Have Learned From My Father

My dad is one of my best friends.  And I’m proud to say that I’m a lot like him.  All of his quirks that I used to roll my eyes at, I realize I have.  All the things he found fascinating and I thought were less than, I now find fascinating.  He has left me a love of knowledge, a passion for truth, an appreciation of art, music, and theater, and his lovely, witty, corny sense of humor. 

But the greatest thing that he passed down to me was a commitment to prayer.

When I was little, I remember stumbling out of my room early in the morning, nightgown crooked, sporting my bed head, Rainbow Brite in hand, and peering down the hallway, peeking in at my dad.  I’m not sure if he knows I did this to this day.  But I would watch him kneeling by the couch, whispering so quietly.  It seemed as though he was unloading all of the thoughts on his heart.  For whatever reason, I was fascinated by a big, grown up man kneeling so low and whispering so quietly. 

I remember one morning excitedly heading back to my room, kneeling at my bedside and whispering to God the way that my dad did.  I’ve never stopped.  He was onto something.    

I have no idea what he whispered to the Lord every morning.  Victories and challenges.  Joys and pains.  But whatever life brought us through for years to come, I always remembered the man who brought himself so low and stayed so quiet. 

There are moments of life that are unkind.  There are moments that are challenging.  There are moments that are sheer joy.  And in all those moments, I’ve learned to come to the One who held my dad so steady. 

My dad is intelligent.  He’s talented.  He’s witty.  He’s kind.  But most importantly, he is humble and wise.  And even though he probably had no idea I was spying on him, and though he didn’t know those quiet actions were the loudest to me, he left me a legacy that I desire to pass down to my children, and them to theirs.

Happy Father’s Day to a dad who has modeled to me what a good man looks like when no one is looking.  I love you!

According to His Glorious Riches

It’s Sunday night.  The grass is cut.  The garden is watered.  We fired up the grill for dinner and had some great chicken and veggies.  We played football in the yard.  We stopped when we saw a bird, or a squirrel, or an ant, because all moving creatures are completely fascinating.  We had ice cream cones and baths.  We read stories, sang songs, and kissed foreheads.  And tonight we think that we are the luckiest, most blessed people in the world.

Unfortunately, every day doesn’t follow the script like today did.  Most of the time, we have tantrums, potty emergencies, forgotten items, emergency appointments, and my quick prayers are filled with the words “grace” and “help.”  But this weekend was different.  Yesterday, we watched our older two boys score soccer goals and helped our little ones cheer them on.  We went for a 3 mile hike in “a very adventurous forest,” according to my 2 year old.  We listened for frogs, found turtles, and climbed a very large hill that the boys’ proudly referred to as a mountain.  And tonight, after so many adventures, so many moments, and getting so much done that life demands for us to get done, we sit here feeling blessed beyond measure.

We made a choice 6 ½ years ago, when our first son was born, for me to quit my job and stay home.  It was a choice that I never thought I’d make.  I was career driven since I was in Jr. High.  Success was my driving force.  But something happened.  God spoke.  He rocked our world.  He asked me to lay everything down for this little one.  And I did…though not always with a right attitude. 

I truly believe He doesn’t call everyone to do this.  Just like we are all called to different paths in life, I believe that how we raise our families also looks different.  The important part is whether we have our ear turned to our Maker. He will provide us with direction.  But that direction doesn’t always make a whole lot of sense.

I say this because for 6 ½ years, I’ve struggled with whether we did the right thing.  Note, I did not say that I’ve struggled with whether or not I’ve heard God’s opinion in the matter.  He’s been quite clear over and over again that this is what He has for us right now.  But there are those times when money is tight.  There are those times when you visit a friend’s house with half the number of kids and double the square footage that you own.  There are those times when you talk to a friend who is able to work outside the home, and you wish you had that outlet now and then.  But when we walk in the will of God, we have His favor, and nothing else can replace that.

In the last few weeks we have seen His favor in an amazing way.  Just when I think that we should change course, He confirms that we’re walking right where we should be.  Most recently, we had an emergency that left us with a bill that was a burden.  I prayed that night for peace about the situation.  I tend to worry and panic when I don’t know how things will turn out.  The very next day, I received a card in the mail with a check, blessing us with the very same amount of money that we needed to pay off this debt.  The note simply stated that God asked them to give, and so they did.  The card was mailed the morning of the emergency…before we even had a need.

He knows our needs and acts upon them before we even know them.  We are richly blessed. 

We walked in more favor that week.  We were blessed by a crock pot of chicken soup to soothe our fevering, achy bodies.  My boys prayed for pizza one night for dinner.  I rolled my very tired eyes at that one.  It was most definitely not in the budget.  At 4:45 that evening, pizza was delivered to my door…it was from a good friend who wanted to bless us.  I got a random note of encouragement in the mail a few days later that spoke directly to the insecurities and questions in my heart.  We received some good news that we’ve been waiting on for a long time.  We felt the hand of God in our lives, and it was exhilarating! 

 

My oldest son has a gift of encouragement.  Pair that with an impeccable memory and love of knowledge, and he is sometimes my most favorite person to talk to.  Just a few days ago, we were recalling all of the things that God has done for us recently.  He quoted two verses in our conversation that have stuck with me for days.  He said, “It’s not a surprise to me that God did what He did for us.  When we walk with Him, we have His blessings.  Our God will meet all our needs according to His glorious riches.  And He’s pretty rich mom.”  After some more conversation, he quoted 1 John 3:1 “How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God.  And that is what we are!”  (We have this one posted in our house).  But he told me, “You are a child of God.  And when you honor Him, He wants to give you everything He has planned just like when I honor you and you have great things planned for me.”  I’m so thankful for his wisdom. 

There are hard days.  Like, really, really hard days.  There are many, many moments of doubt.  But there are these divine, amazing times when it’s undeniable that despite what we don’t have, we are exactly where we’re supposed to be.   And we are standing in a place of blessing.  My heart is to take it all in.  I don’t want to miss a moment. 

We chose for me not go to work and make an extra income for our family.  This means we don’t have all the things others do.  This means we don’t do all the things we’d like to do.  Sometimes it even means we don’t have the things we need.  But He supplies all our needs, and keeps us in a place of green pastures and still waters.  And we have seen the seasons shift enough times now to know that there are times we give to others out of His riches, and sometimes we receive.  Either way, we can’t go wrong with an ear turned toward Him.

So tonight, as I rocked my little girl, kissed my little boys, and cleaned up the toys in the yard, I’m feeling really rich.  I am living out His promises for me today and every day.  I am breathing the very breath He intended me to breathe today.  I am thoroughly enjoying examining the ants, chasing the squirrels, and teaching my kids the difference between weeds and tomato plants.  I love sitting on the couch with my husband in the dimly lit room talking about the past, present, and future. 

I love having His love lavished on us.  And I always want to be fascinated by the ants moving, the squirrels chattering, and the birds soaring above us.

Intensity = Results

Intense.

It’s the only word I can come up with to describe the last few weeks, months even.  And just when I think that I’m warming up to the intensity, life keeps happening.  It keeps getting more, well, intense.

With four mobile children ages 6 and under (one entering her tantrum time, and one hopefully exiting his), a newly potty-trained 2 (soon to be 3) year old little man, finishing up home schooling for the year, and the regular rig-a-ma-roll of cooking, cleaning, shopping, chauffeuring, and working, I’ve barely had time to breathe. 

Note:  I’m not complaining.  I function best under pressure.  In fact, I even added more to our plate:  getting the house ready to put on the market (we’ll see!), starting a new exercise and diet routine (2 weeks, 8 lbs. and 12 inches lost), and continuing to form a non-profit organization aimed at adoption education, support and reform.  To top it all off, my dear husband has been working out of town Monday through Friday, giving me some extra weekday duties and no evening relief!

No, I’m not complaining.  I’m celebrating.  Life is good.  We’re definitely not bored.  Our house is filled with laughter…or crying…or both.  My days are spent with my four favorite little people in the universe.  My evenings are spent catching up on the phone with my favorite guy in the world before I conquer the rest of my to-do list.  I remember days that used to seem super long.  These days go by too quickly.  No, I’m not complaining…this week.  But if you talked to me before my last heart check, I was oozing with discontent.  My apologies to all those friends who endured my grumbling.

Until recently, this intense season left me panicky, complaining, and dismal.  What’s a girl to do with all this responsibility, no help, and pure, utter exhaustion? Well, this girl tried to do it in her own strength…over and over and over and over again.  Day in and day out.  And what met me in the morning was a worse attitude than the day before.  I dreaded the day, and “suffered” through them as if my life was terrible.   Truth is, it isn’t.  Not one little bit.  But by breakfast, I probably visibly appeared burdened.  Yeah, I was a little, black rain cloud.

But intensity does that to you…it skews your perspective.  It makes you think that you absolutely cannot handle another responsibility, another moment, another activity.  In reality, and in ultimate truth, we can do all things through Christ who gives us strength…ay, there’s the rub.  In who?  Not in me…but in Christ. 

You’d think I would have this idea down.  You’d think I’d know to take life one day at a time, in His strength.  But that truth is still sinking from my head, to my heart, hopefully to become my habit.  It wasn’t until about 10 minutes into a grueling (for me!) exercise dvd last week that I realized how much we want to quit when things get hard.  Doing 3 minutes of intense strength training on the same muscle group not only affects my body, but it affects my mind.  You can’t do this.  You aren’t strong enough for this.  You’re gonna collapse.  Just give up.  But everything in me knows that if I stick with it, results happen…and it’s not that long of a time in the grand scheme of things. 

So it is the same with life.  When we’re faced with intense challenges, they are physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually draining.  Our mind plays some pretty powerful tricks on us, tricks that seemingly erase truth that we were convinced were rooted in our hearts.  You can’t do this.  Poor you.  Other moms at least get a break..  You’re never gonna make it.  Just give up.  Self-pity sets the stage for lies to creep in and transform our mind.  But there’s a huge problem with this…self-pity, lies, exhaustion, life circumstances, intensity in general are not the controlling factors in transforming us.  Rather, Romans 12: 2 says “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” 

I’ve been justifying my heart attitude saying that I still was making time for God. I was still in the Word.  I was still leaning on Him.  Therefore, this was what holiness and goodness and joy looked like in this season.  But I’m gonna be honest.  It was all in vain.  I was looking for Him to take away my burden rather than allowing him to transform me by renewing my mind.  I wasn’t giving him my mind.  I was holding on to it.  I was offering up my time, my attention, but not my agenda…not my complaining.  I couldn’t imagine succumbing to the thought that I could endure my to-do list with joy and strength.  No, that couldn’t be the answer.  The moment I let my agenda go, so went the grumbling, the self-defeating thoughts, and dreading waking up the next morning. 

The character trait we’ve been learning around the Stack house is patience.  The operational definition of patience is something that I should have picked up on much sooner than I did…it might have ended my mind grumbling a little earlier.  We’re learning that patience means “accepting a difficult decision without giving a deadline to remove it.” 

So while I thought I was being patient outwardly with my kids, my husband’s work schedule, my own work…really, inwardly I was loudly reminding God (o.k., screaming at Him!) that if He didn’t do something to my work load I was going to explode.

I am thankful for His mercy.  I am thankful that He takes us through some intense times so that He can drive home a truth that we think we have a handle on.  I am thankful that I can walk my kids through my weaknesses, and I am hopeful that they don’t struggle with fundamental truths to the extent I do at my age. 

I am thankful for intensity.  It’s exhausting, but it always produces results. 

 

Sayonara to Sippy Cups

Just when you least expect it, it hits you: that overwhelming wave of nostalgia.  Just today, as I was changing loads of laundry, I held my third son’s beloved blankie, and instantly remembered the day he was born.

Perhaps the nostalgia comes from the fact that today is my daughter’s first birthday.  One year ago right now, my husband and I were anxiously awaiting her arrival in a hospital room, full of joy.  It doesn’t seem right that it’s been a year already.  I remember holding her tiny little body for the first time, tears streaming down my cheeks as I exhaustedly muttered, “Well, I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, my little princess!”  I remember handing her to my husband, and watching his proud daddy look melt into a different kind of love.  I remember thinking that he looked different gazing at her than when he first beheld each of our boys.  I remember bringing her home to a house full of love, with little boys begging to hold their sister.  I remember changing her clothes way too often because I wanted to play dress up with a little girl.

And now, that little girl is walking, and talking, and drinking from a cup, and waving bye-bye…and I just am not ready for her to grow up.

Just this past weekend, my husband and I were able to get away for a night…the first time since we became parents!  It was wonderful!  But I’d be lying if I said that there wasn’t a little bit of sad mixed in there.  Our two oldest boys, 6 and 4, have never slept away from home without us.  And there they were, with their two best friends, hugging our legs and waving us away.  We watched as they ran with their friends, farther and farther away, and I thought to myself, surely, they are still too little to have friends…to have a sleepover…to start making those amazing childhood memories that include others besides ourselves.  They had the time of their lives.  They played in mud, collected rocks, built a tent, and ran around playing soccer. 

But I wasn’t expecting them to grow up this fast.  They are reading, writing, understanding jokes, developing skills and confidently using their talents…and I just was not expecting this to happen so soon.

As I put my two-year-old son’s blankie into the dryer this morning, I got misty eyed.  I remember when he first decided, in his baby mind, that this was his blankie.  It was back in the day when I was still nursing him and rocking him to sleep.  It was when he was my baby, no younger sibling.  It was when he preferred playing with me than to his brothers.  It was before the days when he wrestled with the boys and daddy, before the days when he thought burping was funny, and before the days when he had a pajama preference.  And though I was tired, overwhelmed at times, and genuinely worn out as a mom of three young boys, I cherish those days of innocence. 

Last night, I kissed that little 2-year-old boy as I placed him in a big boy bed.  He has grown up faster than the rest.  He wants to be just like his brothers, and so he’s said goodbye to his crib, his sippy cups, and his baby toys.  I didn’t realize that seasons were changing until they changed.  My baby boy has turned into a walking, talking, cup drinking, big-boy-bed sleeping, soccer ball kicking kid.  And I just wasn’t ready for that.

These days of mothering get hard.  Wait.  That’s an understatement.  There are days when I literally say out loud “Help me Lord!  Or else I might explode!”  In fact, just this morning, I was doing the laundry because my kids are sick…again…and yes, they “sicked” all over their beds in the middle of the night.   Today was particularly challenging, but I realize that these moments are fleeting.  The busyness of young children carry us…no, push us into the very next moment before we are ready for it.  Even in the craziness, even in the busyness, even in the “sicked” laundry, there are beautiful moments that amount to nothing more than gifts.  I get the privilege of watching these little princes and this little princess grow and become who they were intended to be.  The tantrums, the laundry, the diapers, the sleepless nights are par for the course. 

I probably will want to cry again sometime soon…maybe even today!  I probably will get so overwhelmed that I have to stop and pray.  And that’s o.k.  Everything that is worth something requires those moments.  And there is nothing else worth more to me than my family. 

I am so thankful for that little Winnie the Pooh blankie, washed and dried and fresh again.  It is a reminder that though my little guy’s said sayonara to sippy cups, he still has many years to grow.  And though I am not ready, I do love watching the process unfold.  I do love watching my kids make friends and discover who they are.  There is no greater gift than watching God’s hand on your child’s life.  I just pray that I stop in the middle of all the busyness to keep watching.

“Teach me how to number my days that I might gain a heart of wisdom.”  Psalm 90:12

Candy Crush Saga: a Reminder That God is Fun!

So, I have a guilty pleasure…no, it’s not the Bachelor or American Idol.  It’s not cheese or chips, or gambling.  I don’t smoke, drink, or swear.  But I do like to play online games.  Pretty sad, huh?  Now, I have about a million things to cram in my day, and arguably these are an enormous waste of time.  They really are.  But some days, they are my reward…my way de-stressing after a busy day and calming my brain down (do you hear all that justification!?)

Today, just this afternoon, in the midst of my guilty pleasure, God spoke loud and clear…and made me and my kids laugh out loud.

Anyways, one of my new favorite games is called Candy Crush Saga on facebook, or as it is known in our house, “The Saga.”  Each board has a different task to complete either in a predetermined amount of moves or time.  You complete the tasks by swapping the colored candy-looking objects around making a row of three, four, or five alike.  It sounds so simplistic, and really it is, but the challenges get more and more difficult as you go, and well, it gets quite addicting.

Now, my hubby used to play video games a lot, and loves role playing games.  I grew up with the original Nintendo and fell in love with puzzle-type games, like Dr. Mario.  Our poor children were predisposed to video game fascination, so we have to be very careful about how much screen time we all have!  I generally only indulge in my guilty pleasure once the wee little ones are asleep at night and the two older ones are on their way to be tucked in.  Of course, the bright colored candy screen objects caught their attention one night, and my husband and two older boys were sucked in right along with me.

And so, the next few nights, sandwiched between teeth brushing and story time, my boys would cheer me on in the ever-so-important game of Candy Crush Saga.  It became a fun 10 minute little ritual…until I got stuck on board 65.  With only 5 lives allotted at a time, I stayed at board 65 for weeks.  Every night, we gathered to see mommy quickly lose all of her lives, time and time again.  It was impossible.  I didn’t even get close.  Still, faithfully, we log on to Candy Crush Saga thinking maybe, just maybe, I can beat the board.

This morning, we finished our chores and our school work early.  This could be due to the fact that a new early riser in the house who has enjoyed waking up her mama at 5:30 a.m. all week.  We had so much extra time that I even retold some extra Bible stories in my own words, which my kids love because I try to make them a little funny to keep their attention.  One of my 4-year-olds favorites is the parable of the persistent widow, or the sistent widder, as he calls it.  He told me this morning that the sistent widder was on his heart, so we talked through that one in addition to Joseph, Job, and Abraham.

Being a creature of schedule, I wasn’t sure what to do with the hour of extra time between school and lunch.  I started searching for craft material, seeing as Miss Rooster was snoozing, when my boys asked “Could you play the Saga?”  Even my two year old excitedly hopped in my lap, hoping to catch a glimpse of this fabled game he hears about.  I figured I would lose my 5 lives in 10 minutes or less and then we could move on to our craft. 

Faster than usual, I blew through 4 of my 5 lives. It was then that my 4 year old informed me that he started praying that I beat this board a few days ago.  My 6 year old excitedly said, “That’s a great idea!  Let’s pray!”  Me, being the wonderful, spiritual mother that I am, shamefully replied “Well, go ahead, but I’m thinking Jesus probably doesn’t care much if we ever beat this board on this silly game.”  This is one of those times when I am actually glad that they ignored me.  They said a quick prayer and I pressed start.  Wouldn’t you know it?  I beat the board…with 10 moves to spare.  They both got so excited, my oldest started to cry, and immediately they thanked God. 

I could so easily explain this away.  I had been playing this darn thing for weeks, I should have been able to beat it.  I could easily call this a coincidence.  But what I’m choosing to call it was a huge lesson for my kids…and me.  God does care about the little things.  We spend so much time in our family talking about children around the world who don’t have mommies or daddies, or clean water, or food.  We serve in places where people need compassion and care.  We are trying so hard to open our kids’ eyes to see the world around them through God’s eyes.  But what I have failed to do as a mom is tell my kids how limitless, awesome, caring, detail-oriented and fun God is.  I still look at life this way:  why would God answer a prayer about a dumb game while someone somewhere is dying from starvation?  My six year old said this, just as this thought was going through my brain:  we can pray as many prayers as we want.  There’s no limit.  And He can answer any ones He wants, because He’s God.

They immediately wanted to call daddy and tell them that we aren’t stuck on that board in the Saga…but they told him that I didn’t beat it, but God did.  It made me laugh.  God really gave me a good laugh.  He reminded me that He is much bigger than I daily think him to be, and He reminded me by playing a game with me.  He showed my kids and I that while we are sitting here wasting time, entertaining our brains for a few minutes, He is sitting here with us, enjoying watching us having fun.

The icing on the cake was hearing my boys tell my husband “God is so fun…and funny.”  You know what?  He is.  We are made in his image…and we are fun and funny sometimes.  The Bible refers to the fact that God laughs, dances, and sings over us.  I too often forget that! 

Who knew that a midday game of Candy Crush Saga could bring such breakthrough and renew a heart of joy?  I sure didn’t expect that one, but I’m glad He chose to speak to us in such a fun way today!

 

 

Lessons Learned On Our Crazy Monday

Things I learned today:

 

1. If you fail to turn on the dishwasher before bed with 4 little kids, there will be no clean plates or forks for breakfast.
2. When emptying the canister on the bagless vacuum, it would be wise to do so away from the crawling baby and curious toddler.
3. If wisdom eludes you regarding item #2, you can actually vacuum a crawling baby and curious toddler.
4. If you are able to teach kindergarten phonics and first grade math without an interruption from said baby and toddler, you are not enjoying peace, but rather something is wrong, and baby and toddler will have to be cleaned up….again.
5. Toddlers who have kidney issues still must give urine samples…they tape a bag to his “region” and tell him to pee.
6. A toddler with said bag does not like the way it feels and will refuse to pee.
7. While waiting for a bagged toddler to urinate in a small dr.’s office with 4 small children, it is wise to have plenty of diaper wipes handy for the baby, in case of explosion, books for older children, and candy to bribe the toddler with.
8. If wisdom has eluded you regarding item #7, a 4 year old is able-bodied to wet paper towels and hand them to you in a pinch for a diaper explosion, thereby also occupying him, and cough drops are good stand-ins for candy bribes.
9. McDonald’s Hi-C will not make a toddler pee any faster.
10. After 2 ½ hours of effort, ¼ tank of gas, and two crying children, a toddler will wait until you return home, take off your shoes and coats, and put the baby down for a nap to finally relieve himself.
11. If you, in the middle of all the morning’s chaos, failed to turn the dishwasher on in the morning, there will still be no clean plates or forks.

 

 

We have to laugh to get us through this Monday!!  Happy Monday-hope yours is less eventful!!