Help for the Little Years Hater

Day 16, Five Minute Prompt: LITTLE

I don’t know if it was raising support all over America with a baby in tow or moving clear across the world with a three month infant that made me have a hard time loving the little years.

Don’t get me wrong; I love the curl of a sleeping baby resting to the sound of my heartbeat. I love tickling tiny toes and receiving bubble smiles in return. Little is cute and sweet with its plump red cheeks and dimply knees. But when it comes to kids, let’s be real, little is a whole lot of work.

Because somehow they know when I sit down with my cup of coffee. Seems they have an internal clock that tells them when mom is relaxed and then to rouse me. Meeting the needs of fickle little dictators is exhausting and overwhelming.

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Yes, she always wears this hat.

I want to tell them, “Get your own juice,” but I know it will end up on the floor. I want them to solve their own problems, wipe their own booties, and brush their teeth without the accompanying toothpaste explosion in my sink.

More so, I want them to be little Jesus lovers who model a life of repentance. I want them to reek of the fruits of the spirit like they just got out of a steaming bubble bath of the stuff. I trust God with all my heart that we will get there, but expecting these behaviors before God gets their hearts is unreasonable and unfair.

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My little ones may be pagans, but they’re people too. With souls, thoughts, and feelings as unique as their outfit choices. A while back I read, Your Child is Your Neighbor and was completely wrecked. I must handle them delicately, trusting the Lord will fill them one day and they will become vessels used for His service.

I must remember, it’s exactly their neediness, dependency, and child-likeness that leads them to the feet of Jesus. And isn’t that exactly where I want them to be?

But Jesus called them unto him, and said, Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in no wise enter therein (Luke 18:16-17).

So how do I embrace their littleness and love their wild hearts? I reference my instruction manual which I find to be surprisingly short.

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself (Matthew 6:37-39).

I share my home, my kitchen-utensils-turned-toys, and my dinner table with these small people made in the image of God. I’m gonna love them till they don’t need me. Then I’m gonna love them some more.

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Do you need to ask God to help you love the little years?
How can you stoop down to serve tiny wild hearts today?

Talk to me in the comment section!

 

“Maybe I’ll Miss the Muddle” by a Mom who Hates Craft Time

Day 15, Five Minute Prompt: MUDDLE

*My prompt mix-up has come full-swing, but I think this one is rather fitting and perfectly timed for me!*
Paint. Sidewalk chalk. Legos. Play-doh. If it makes a huge mess and mommy hates it, you can guarantee my kids are all over it and begging to do it every. single. day.

Last week, I couldn’t even say no to the muddling. The entire city was shut down to observe the biggest Hindu holiday of the year. We were stuck in or around the house for 12-14 waking hours. Eventually, I enforced a mandated nap time for the sanity of all involved.

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We did all the messy things, and mom even brought out the secret weapon of sugar cookies with squeezable decorators perfect for chubby little hands (is it weird how much I talk about my kids’ hands?).

It was lots of deep-breaths and squinty surveying of the scene that rivaled my earthquake-wrecked first home abroad. I swept 5 times a day and did dishes more than I care to remember. The kids clothes got changed repeatedly, but I never got around to washing any laundry.

For a Type-A mama with my own to-do-list, the struggle is real. I asked myself at least a dozen times why my kids love most the things that make me cringe. And also, “Who is buying them all these things?” (Looking at you, Grandma and Grandpa).

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I realized something, though. The more mess they made, the more fun they had. And the more I overlooked the things that made me cringe, the happier the overall tone in the house was. Nap time came more quickly, and I was able to restore a little order in the chaos.

That’s all their little hands are trying to do among the legos, chalk, paint, and play-doh. They are learning small-scale life lessons in the middle of the muddle. It sure does feel selfish to rob them of those opportunities. Especially considering what a blast they have together. My daughter’s exclamations that her brother is her buddy have matched the number of outfit changes each day.

She’s back to school tomorrow, and my house will be a little less chaotic. Her brother, a little more lonely. I’ll have a little extra time to sip my coffee and pop some laundry in the machine come nap time.

But I’ll admit, I’ll kind of miss the muddle and the two extra hands to clean it up.

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Do you cringe at all the messy things your kids love, too?
How can you live the Golden Rule towards your little home wreckers today?

Talk to me in the comment section!

 

 

 

 

Shouldering the Weight of God-Sized Dreams

Day 11, Five Minute Prompt: SKY

We had been carried by cable car 8,000 feet above the city we’ve spent a year and a half falling in love with.   Removed from the startling sounds of city life, we stood in awe of the beauty of our home abroad.

I chased my children around, avoiding falls down the side of a mountain because I’m a good mom like that. I watched my husband from afar as he gazed across the Valley. I sensed what he was up to. He was praying, strategizing how to reach this country with the gospel.

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Up in the clouds, he was dreaming bigger-than-blue-sky dreams. The God who made the peak we stood on made his heart just big enough to hold them. But the thing about God-sized dreams is they can get rather heavy.

I peer across the Valley, and I see smog and earthquake damage, countless people carrying tremendous burdens. I am overwhelmed at the task ahead and shake my head at these far-fetched plans. It can’t be done.

I remember that Jesus asked His followers to evangelize the whole world. They stood looking into heaven, waiting for Christ’s return when two angels rebuked them to get to work on this impossible task (Acts 1:10-11).

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I can stand here, holding my husband’s hand, admiring his God-sized dream and waiting for the Lord to come relieve the weight of its burden. Or I can keep the pace of feet chasing the impossible, shouldering the weight of the burden as we inch closer to completion.

Living the Golden Rule is simple on this one because, being one with my husband, this dream occupies my heart, too. On my end, there is so much fear and insecurity that threatens the success of these dreams. My heart is so frail, and I think it might burst from the burden of this work. I surrender it to the only One who proved on the Cross his ability to carry it. There’s a peace that this is the best way to help.

I rally my kids and sneak a second next to my man whose brow remains furrowed. I squeeze him around the waist and thank God for the super-size dream we share. We take in the magnitude of it all until my toddler gets that look in his eye. He’s about to stray from the protected path and plummet down this mountain. Better stop staring and get back to my job.

*No children were harmed in the making of this dream.

Do you and your husband have God-sized dreams?
What is your role in seeing them through?

Talk to me in the comment section!

linking up: Coffee for Your Heart , Tell His Story

A “Thank You” That Means Something

Day 11, Five Minute Prompt: THANKS

The Didi at the coffee shop giggles and mocks me when I thank her for my caramel latte. The taxi driver shrugs his shoulders when I hop out of his taxi with a cheerful Dhanyavaad and the handful of bills he required. Even my neighbors visibly signal their dislike for my habit of voicing gratitude. After all, aren’t neighbors supposed to look after each other?

Saying “thank you” for every little tiny thing is largely an aspect of American culture. Many times A few times, I have laughed at myself for thanking the officer who so generously gave me a speeding ticket.

In my excessive expressing of gratitude, however, the phrase has lost its meaning. I thank my husband for passing the milk, but so rarely do I say “Thank you for paying the electricity bill” (which is no small feat here) or “Thank you for helping our daughter learn to read.”

Even less do I say, “Thank you for making time for our family, or “Thank you for your faithfulness to me.” Every day, meaningless thanks roll off my tongue but the taste of these words is new and strange.

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I think of the times I have felt overworked and under appreciated after a 12 hour shift with life-sucking toddlers. Arms around my waist and a “thank you” whispered in my ear turn me from stiff and sour to putty in his hands. I leave the work undone to melt into my husband’s side and wind down the day with too many words exchanged on a juice-splattered sofa.

Living the Golden Rule, I express gratitude for the sacrifices he makes. He is constantly balancing the pressures of work/ministry/family. I see his shoulders relax. As a man who relentlessly strives to excel in all areas, he needs reassurance that he’s the only one that thinks he’s dropping the ball.

Sure, he has responsibilities, and he is man enough to do them without a pat on the back. We are family, and appreciation goes without saying. But why should it?

Has “Thank You” lost its meaning in your marriage?
In what special way can you express gratitude to your spouse today?

Talk to me in the comment section!

My Husband Doesn’t Know Me

Day 10, Five Minute Prompt: UNKNOWN

“You don’t even know me!” I screamed at the end of my rope and the top of my lungs.

These vicious words leapt out like an uncaged beast and I immediately wanted to shove them back into their insecure source. But they were already out and wreaking their destruction.

I could see that he was already wounded. There’s so much pain in being unknown and so much grief in expressing it.

We spent every day together studying language We lived in a a fairytale dream world where we went on a date every day. But there was so much I wasn’t telling him, so much I couldn’t express. Earthquakes, essential good shortages, general loneliness, and other calamities had taken a toll on my spirit.

I wanted him to know all this somehow, but I soon realized this was an unreasonable request. Though he knows me better than anyone else, he really doesn’t know me at all.

Not in comparison to the One who knows the numbers of hairs on my head and the number of breaths I have left in my body. I am completely known and completely loved. Nothing inside of my heart scares or surprises the Deity that dwells in that space.

He gave me this man to kind-of know me.

While we should study each other in efforts of knowing, we can rest because we are already known completely. This truth empowers us to serve one another without calculating how much effort is put forth on the other side and reciprocating accordingly.
Living the Golden Rule, I recognize my desire to be known and so seek to know and serve my husband according to his needs.

I’ve heard a marriage can’t be built on secrets, and certainly I strive to maintain an open and honest relationship with my husband. However, I realize his limitations to know and understand me on the deepest levels. We won’t be setting up house on such a shaky foundation.

Feelings are fleeting. Happiness ebbs and flows. But the God that established our foundation is firm and unmoving. We can build our marriage upon it with confidence it will withstand the storms we will weather together.

All because two people are known and loved by a good Father.

Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock. And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand: And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it (Matthew 7:24-27)

Is your marriage foundation set upon the Rock?
How does being known by God empower you in marriage?

Talk to me in the comment section!