Self-denial--Really?

Last night I got together with a good friend at Starbucks. Having tried a variety of the chairs and tables at that particular Starbucks, I knew the best table to choose--the one that has a cushy seat on one side and a regular seat on the other. It's next to the wall, nice and private, and away from the speaker for when the music gets too loud.

So I used my influence to get her to agree to that table... "Does this one look okay?" (as if I had no opinion). She went to get her drink, and I sat down in the regular seat, leaving her the cushy one.

When she got back, she smiled. "You left me the soft seat, that was very unselfish of you, but I guess with four kids, you know a lot about self-denial."

We laughed, and I said something about mommyhood taking self-denial to a "whole nother level."

It does. Doesn't it? Really plunges the depths, testing our ability to give and give and give ...

I have to admit, sometimes it's really hard. Little things like never owning your very own Diet Coke. Honestly, sometimes I don't want to share it. "It's MY Diet Coke, and you can't have it! Mine! Mine! Mine!" I feel like that at times, but I usually end up sharing. Same goes for chocolate or a new perfect pen or even a just a few quiet minutes alone. Stuff that used to be all mine, now is shared with eight grubby little hands.

Self denial also hits on an emotional level. When my older kids pierce me with angry, painful attitudes, I don't always think, "Yea! What a great teaching opportunity. I'm going to help them learn a life lesson." No, more often, especially when I'm tired or overwhelmed, I'm tempted to indulge myself by throwing good discipline out the window and lashing out in sarcasm or manipulation.

How do I keep from getting sucked into this yucky cycle? Well, I learned a really great thing about self-denial. I do it not to somehow change the kids' behavior or make myself look like a good mom. I deny myself simply because that's what Christ did. It's not out of a sense of duty or guilt, but because I love Him, and His love, joy, and peace fill me up. If instead of focusing on the things I'm giving up--Diet Coke, chocolate, or an indulgent self-centered attitude--I focus on serving the Lord, self denial becomes a joy rather than a sacrifice. And when I serve out of joy, those grubby little hands don't bother me. In fact, there's nothing I'd rather do than serve them.

"Serve the Lord with gladness." Psalm 100

A Cheerful Heart is Good Medicine

Last week I went for my annual check-up. Fun! No really, it was fun. Why? Because my doctor is so cheerful.

He's been our family doctor for years now, and I would never go to anyone else. He greeted me with a big smile and a "How are ya?" He asked, "How are those kiddos of yours?" and also made sure I wasn't too overwhelmed by mommyhood. While he was stethescoping my back, he had to take a phone call, and, after apologizing for the interruption, he grinned and said, "Don't go anywhere." Like I could while donning that paper blouse. I laughed--imagine, a doctor who'll joke with you.

I overheard a bit of his phone call (not on purpose!) and he exuded friendliness to that person too. "Hey Joe, thanks for calling me back." He had that smile in his voice they tell you to have. Yeah, the check-up included all the uncomfortable stuff, but I left with a smile on my face. It felt good to be around a happy person for an hour.

I want my home to be like that. After my appointment, I began assessing my cheerfulness level. I think I could be a lot more jolly with my kids. So I tried it. We've been laughing more, and when I get all serious about the "To Do Lists" in my day, I've been trying to slow down and smile instead of growl. It's not that difficult to do, and guess what? They like their mom better this way--and so do I.

Me Overwhelmed? Weird--or Not

"The thing is," I told my friend Sarah, "I feel overwhelmed all the time." Sarah is one of those un-assuming, yet remarkable, women whose easy-going attitude and great kids (five of them) inspire me.

What nugget did wise Sarah give me in response? Her brow scrunched in compassion, and she said, "Well, you have four little kids, you homeschool, you edit (something I do to help financially), you have a house to take care of...You're going to feel overwhelmed all the time."

Huh. It took me a minute to let that sink in. I'm going to feel overwhelmed all the time. As she waited patiently, still smiling empathetically, the meaning of her words swirled through my thoughts.

Sarah was telling me that my state of being overwhelmed was not abnormal. In fact, considering all I do, it's perfectly reasonable to feel like I'm drowning.
I looked up from my pondering and said, "Thanks. That's a real comfort."

It was. Her kind and wholly rational words reminded me that God knows how I feel like flood waters are whooshing over my head--all the time. He knows how my stomach turns at the thought of keeping up with the laundry, or how a messy diaper at the wrong moment (like when we're already rushing to be on time)can send me into frantic, crazy-lady mode.

He also knows how I feel like a failure when one of my kids shows his sinfulness by lashing out at me with disrespectful words. Or another one refuses to forgive, holding a grudge for hours. Or when I, rather than exemplifying loving, Christ-centered behavior, instead lash out right back at them.

He knows that these and the many other challenges of parenting overwhelm--all the time. And rather than stressing and struggling like a panicked swimmer, I can trust that this is the heat I'm supposed to be in--not an easy one, but worthwhile. I can rest in Him, trusting His ability to save me--be my strength.

"Trust the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight." Prov. 3:5-6

Look What God Made

"What's that, Mama?" two-year-old Abigail's little voice questioned as she pointed to the animal in front of her. "Kitty?"

"Nope, sweetie, that's a jaguar."

Monday we went to Seattle's Woodland Park Zoo. It was Abigail's first excursion to any zoo, and it warmed my heart (despite the chilly Washington weather) to see her eyes light up in wonder at the animals. It was also fun to hear four-year-old Christian's roaring--doesn't matter what animal we saw, his response was, ROAR!!!

On occasions like a trip to the zoo, I always keep the phrase, "Look what God made," handy. I want them to know where to direct that awe they feel over the amazingness of nature. "See the speckled giraffe, the powerful gorilla, the purple, poison-dart frog? Look what God made."

I also experience another kind of awe when I gaze at them--an amazing feeling of gratitude. And on Monday, as they delighted in God's creation, I delighted in them, saying to myself, "Look what God made."

My Benjamin, Gabrielle, Christian, Abigail. Even the most awe-inspiring, intricate aspect of God's creation pales in comparison to my kids. What breathtaking spot in nature could attempt to surpass the feeling when Benjamin hands me a note from the heart--"You're the best mom ever." Or when Gabby has a smooching contest with me, or when Christian falls asleep on my lap in church, or when Abigail giggles. They are the most amazing creations in my life. And He's given me the privilege and duty to be their mom.

Look what God made, yeah. He made my kids.

"The Lord your God is in your midst. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy." Zephaniah 3:17 NIV

I Love to Laugh--Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha!

"That does not sound sexy!" I blurted to my critiquing friend last night. Three of us gathered around our favorite table at McDonald's, struggling to tune out the loud voices of the older gentlemen's loud conversation. The point? To give our best opinions about how to make eachothers' manuscripts more griping, emotionally intense, or polished. It's very satisfying as a writer in many ways--and refreshing.

The best part is the laughing. Not a McCrit (that's what we call it) goes by when we're not snorting and guffawing about something. This time an out-of-place phrase a character said in a hot and heavy romantic scene just struck me. We all almost lost our Diet Cokes over that one.

As a mommy, I believe in laughter. It waters my dry land. The days filled with laundry, dishes, organizing, and most of all striving to be the best parent I can be sometimes saps the juice right out of me, but laughing gives it back.

Nothing bonds friends together like a full-bellied chuckle. It's hard to be transparent sometimes, even with other moms. We want to appear like we have it all together, like our backs don't ache at the end of the day, or our kids don't drive us to desparation at times. A good laugh can break down that barrier. Sharing a funny can make us feel free to share the struggles as well.

And how great is laughing with our kids? My 8-year-old son, Benjamin, can really get me going. He or I will mimic something we've seen Christian doing, like saying, "I a knight. I sword you!" And we'll jump and take his fierce knight stance. We'll giggle and giggle. Or my second oldest will tell me some story that I don't understand, and she'll start cracking up. I don't have a clue what it's about, but I join in anyway, because laughing is contagious.

Oh, and the ability to make a kid chortle helps with discipline. My favorite way to melt a kid's mad face into a smile? Say, "Would you like to eat my boogers?" Works every time.

What a gift laughter is. Thanks to the Lord, the source of all joy, for creating us to laugh.

"The joy of the Lord is my strength."

My Shoulders Feel Better

Since I finished my stint teaching twenty jr. highers everything they needed to know about the Crimean and Civil War, I somehow feel more relaxed. Huh.

I think it's good to have a big goal. I like it--the adrenaline rush, the sense of accomplishment, the knowledge that makes me feel smart.

And I also like gifting my kids the opportunity to experience these benefits of hard work. Their goals of, for instance, making their beds every day, or, finishing their math surely do give them the bliss of a job well done.

Okay, maybe not. But it is beneficial to have them work hard even if rather than blessing me for my wise foresight, they whine, get mad, slouch, procrastinate, and sometimes cry.

Another thing is good too.

A break.

After teaching for six weeks, I need a break. And my kids' hyper-emotions tell me they do too. So this week we've thrown math out the window. Their beds aren't made and I don't care! Yesterday we made thumbprint thank you cards. You should've seen little Abigail. The ink didn't quite stay on her thumb. Instead her fat thighs were decorated with swirlies and squigglies. But we had fun and the cards got put in the mailbox with the flag up. All five of us went for a long walk/bike ride (the older two riding bikes), and eight-year-old Benjamin made the coolest skids in the gravel. Today, my six-year-old daughter Gabrielle got to trade her treasures for the neighborhood kids' allowance money, and I helped Benjamin sell his Cub Scout popcorn. We've been reading books we like, and tomorrow, I plan on playing games with them--Jr. Boggle, Aggravation, Uno! Monday we're going to the zoo.

Sometimes in my frenzy to check off the to-do lists I make for my kids I forget they need a break. We all do sometimes--it helps those shoulders relax.

Giggling with Abigail

"Go away, bug!" my two-year-old squeaked in church today. A fly had swooped by her ear during the Prayer of the Church. Her commanding words were heard far beyond our pew.

We're trying to train her to sit in church, and I was pretty impressed that she made it that long, so, for the sake of the others trying to concentrate on worshipping God, I took her to the cry room.

But that doesn't mean she can run free. Like I said, we're trying to get her to sit through service, so the rule is she must sit on my lap and be quiet. Well, how do you think that worked out? She's a talker, you see. She loves words and wants to tell me everything. Yet, I know she needs to be quiet.

So we begin a back and forth dialog, starting with the items in her surroundings. "Mahm, toy." My response? "Quiet, Abigail." She says, "Mahm, nose." I say, "No talk, Abigail." She taps her soft little finger on my sweater. "Mahm, button." I respond, "Shhh, Abigail." Then she grabs a book. "Mahm, goggie," pointing to a dog, and "Mahm, goggie," pointing to a donkey. "Abigail, pray with Pastor Randy." Now she looks out the glass to the people in church. "Mahm, Barker." (Our church's pastoral intern.) "Mahm, Papa."... "Abigail, listen to the Bible."

The problem is, she's just so cute and sweet, it becomes a game for both of us, and soon she's giggling. Okay, I'll admit, I giggle too. How could I not? What better place than in church to enjoy her? What better way to glorify God than to rejoice in this precious gift He's lavished on me.