Mom, Mommy, Mama, Mother...

Sydney handed me a brown paper sack on Friday afternoon.  Inside was a collection of Mother's day projects she had been working on in her first grade classroom over the course of several weeks.  I unfolded a piece of composition paper where she had written something about me with a lovely illustration of the two of us.  This is what Sydney wrote:  

"The most important thing about my Mommy is that she loves to read her Bible.  She likes puppies!  BUT the most important thing about my Mommy is that she loves to read her Bible."

Just so we're clear, I love to read my Bible...according to Sydney.  I smiled when I read her composition, and my heart was warmed to think that, from my little six-year-old daughter's perspective, this would be the most important thing about me.

I don't know about you, but I absolutely love Mother's Day.  I love it more than my birthday.  I love waking up Mother's Day morning knowing that because of three precious little souls, who call me by a number of different names - "Mom"..."Mommy"..."Mama"..."Mother" (often repeated numerous times with varying voice tones and inflections) - this day is for me.

I love Mother's Day because I am reminded of my own Mom.

My mom could turn a two bedroom, concrete floored, 800 square foot condo in Kenya into home sweet home.  Her fingerprints are all over my own home today - there's a touch of my mom everywhere I go.

My mom could turn a seemingly disastrous eyes-closed-for-my-sixth-grade-school-pictures into something to smile about and be proud of.

She has been my biggest cheerleader, confidant, mentor and friend.

And the most important thing about my mom is that she loves to read her Bible.

Down the road, when Sydney picks up her little girl from school, maybe - just maybe - she'll open up a little gift sack with a handwritten note about her and read, "The most important thing about my mom is that she loves to read her Bible..."

Being a mom is not just about changing diapers, shuttling kids from school to sports to church and home again.  It's not simply making sure they eat their veggies and do their homework.  Being a mom is modeling the kind of person we want our children to become.  Leading by example in everything...everything...we do.

I love being a mom.  I know I mess up a lot, but I am encouraged that the most important people in my life are discovering the most important thing in life through my life.

This may be a day too late, but I just want to wish my mom, and all my dear and amazing mom friends, a very Happy Mother's Day!

Friday's Free Advice

We have a lot of leaders in our home.  Inevitably, there is a constant battle to be the line leader (it doesn’t matter if we’re just walking to a different room…everyone wants to be first).  My children will literally tackle each other in order to claim this coveted position.  This morning a genius moment of mommy creativity flashed in my mind.  As Jackson was bringing up the rear heading downstairs for breakfast, I could tell he was on the brink of a meltdown.  Then it dawned on me…Jackson wasn’t last…Jackson was…THE CABOOSE!  I told him, with excitement brimming from my voice, “Jackson!  You get to be THE CABOOSE!”  He looked questioningly at me, and I repeated, “Jackson…YOU get to be THE CABOOSE!”  His whole face lighted up.  He marched boldly down the stairs and proclaimed to his sisters, dad, and all of creation, “I’m the CADOOSE!  Look at me!”   

Sometimes it’s as simple as changing our perspective. 

There are nights when I will lay my head down on my pillow and feel like I botched every single item on my list of responsibilities.  I can beat myself to a pulp for something I said, or didn’t say; for not spending enough quality time with each of my children, or allowing myself to feel overwhelmed because I don’t think who I am is enough. 

In these quiet moments I am learning to pause and ask God to help me look on my life with a fresh perspective.  I ask him to help me see clearly those areas where I need to humble myself and make adjustments, and then release those things that are out of my control.  I ask him to help me accept the fact that I can’t do everything, and teach me to walk boldly in his perfection, because I am never going to be perfect.  I ask him to give me a fresh perspective, a fresh grasp of his grace and a fresh appreciation for others.

And he always does.  I find that I am asking God for a healthy dose of new perspective a lot these days.  I can’t be a wife, mother, daughter, friend and leader without him.  Where I am weak, he is my superwoman strength, enabling me to leap tall heaps of laundry and dirty dishes in a single bound.  And when my perspective is off, he is faithful to come to my rescue every. single. time.

Friday’s Free Advice:  If you are feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders and it is crushing you, maybe it’s time to stop and ask God to give you a change of perspective in your situation.  I was talking to a friend recently, and for her it was as simple as a good night’s rest.  It is amazing what a little change in perspective can do for a soul!

Sweet Spot

“When life’s biggest disappointments cause a bitterness that you just can’t seem to shake, know that the Lord wants to step in and reveal the miracle of his restoring power in your heart.  He can take your biggest struggle and heartache – the one that causes your chest to ache with frustration – and turn it into the sweet spot on which your spiritual outlook hinges.”    - Priscilla Shirer from her Bible Study, “One In A Million”.

This statement has lingered with me for several days now.  Our current heartache, whatever that might be, is the very thing in which God can, and will, transform into a sweet spot. 

A sweet spot.

When I think of sweet, I think of honey, homemade chocolate chip cookies, kisses from my kiddos, the night Joel proposed to me, the first time I saw my babies on a sonogram, and walking on the beach with sand between my toes.  Those are all marvelous things to me.  The word sweet does not conjure up thoughts of heartache, struggle, and pain.  When I think sweet, I don’t think about a wilderness journey.  Yet, just maybe my perception of sweet is off.  Perhaps the very thing in my life that frustrates and overwhelms me is the very thing that God is using to draw me close to him – causing me to cling to him with all my might.

Life is so multi-dimensional.  There may be clouds hovering over one area while sunlight shines down on another.  Sometimes there are more clouds than sun, and finding a sweet spot is like looking for sugar in a saltshaker.

When we moved into our current home, we had a baby and a two-year-old.  We didn’t need a lot of space, and really couldn’t afford much more than our tiny townhome at the time.  We dreamed big.  We anticipated living in this house for a couple years and then moving on up to something bigger to meet the needs of our growing family.  Then two things happened all around the same time: I found out I was pregnant with Jackson, and the housing market plummeted.  Needless to say, five years later, we are still living in our two-bedroom townhome with no yard.  Believe me, there have been days when I have felt the frustration of this situation so strong and wondered how long will we have to live like this. 

Last fall, as we were settling back into the routine of school, ballet, Bible study, etc, something very powerful occurred to me.  I was putting up what few fall decorations I have and began reflecting on all of the autumn seasons we’ve spent in our home, how each year has been a little different from the last, and just how much life and memories we have lived here: Brooklyn learned to crawl and walk, Jackson was brought home from the hospital to this very house – the only home he’s ever known - miracles witnessed in our kitchen and living room, Christmases, Easter egg hunts, birthday parties, and countless Friday Family Movie Nights.  This little townhome, that sometimes feels like it’s closing in on me, is our home…a very sweet place.  And to my children, it is not a piece of real estate that has depreciated in market value.  It is their home – their sweet spot.  

God has taught me so many things here too.  He’s taught me to think creatively, outside the box, stretching me to find ways to maximize our living space.  He has also taught me to be content, no matter what situation I am in.  I realize that this issue of mine may seem petty and small in comparison to all of the real heartache and sorrow out there in our world.  However, this is one cloud, a piece of the bigger puzzle, revealing that as much as I would love to have a picture-perfect life, not everything will always be picture-perfect.  This little ‘ole house is not something that I simply have to put up with, but it has truly become a sweet spot for me.  I am so grateful that our plans to move on up fell apart, because it has been here, in this townhome, that the most precious moments of my life have been lived…and I really don’t want to move away from that any time soon.

 

Allowing God to turn our biggest disappointments into a sweet spot is not always an easy thing to do, but once we release them into his hands, there can truly be none sweeter.

Psalm 19:9-10

The ordinances of the Lord are sure and altogether righteous.  They are more precious than gold, than much pure gold; they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb.

"Do Over" Day

Have you ever wished you could stop, rewind and re-do a moment in time?  I have...pretty much on a regular basis.  This past weekend, especially, I needed a "do over" day. On Saturday morning Sydney managed to wedge her bedroom door shut while she and Jackson were inside.  I couldn't get it open - not even a single budge.  They were trapped.  I body slammed it so many times that I now have a lovely bruise on my left shoulder.  I could hear wailing and screaming coming from the other side of the door.  This is why we have an "open door" policy in our home.  Doors remain open at all times, unless the parents have designated otherwise.  Too many near-loss-of-fingers incidents.  We had to put the open door policy into effect.  On this day in particular, Sydney was getting wild, decided to shut Brooklyn out of the bedroom, and pretty much closed herself in for a thirty minute time-out.

Was I frustrated?  Yes.  I was.  Did I manage this situation in a calm and peaceful manner?  Hmmm....I could have done better.

Stop.  Rewind.  Try again.

Some friends had invited us over to their home for lunch after church yesterday.  We enjoy this family so much, and their girls are the same ages as our girls.  The afternoon was going well until their youngest daughter came running inside from the backyard and announced that Brooklyn had told Jackson to throw dirt on her.  And he did.  My children were on the fast track to cranky-ville, and it was becoming clear that they were suffering from a severe case of nap-deficiency.  Not an excuse for bad behavior, but certainly a contributing factor.

As I was sitting in my friends' living room, holding Jackson and Brooklyn on my lap (both in full blown melt-down mode), singing "Little Mister Roo" all I could think about was, "Can I have a 'do over'?".

Stop.  Rewind.  Try again.

Jackson was up at 3:30 this morning.  His, "Mommy! Mommy!" cries pulled me out of a deep coma.  He needed help going potty.  I couldn't get back to sleep after that.  I laid in my bed thinking about all the things I need to do today, all the things coming up this week, all the things I am running behind in, and how much I wish I could escape to a nice, warm beach somewhere.  Needless to say, when my alarm went off at 5:30 am, I turned it off, rolled over and closed my eyes.

I woke up late.  Bad start to the day.

Stop.  Rewind.  Try again.

Psalm 103:11&12 "For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us."

Romans 4:7&8 "Blessed are they whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered.  Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord will never count against him."

In my world of "high expectations" I really blew it a time or two this weekend.  It is Monday morning, and as I look to the past I fear it has set me up for a less than stellar week.  I wonder if I could do the weekend over, somehow I could set everything right again.  Not so.  "Do overs" are great, when you can actually do something over (like one of my kids waking up on the wrong side of the bed - they get to stop, go back to their room, and try again).  When you can't, there is always the assurance that once forgiven by God all is restored.  We don't have to rewind to try again.  We simply get to start fresh.  Start new. Start over.

So, rather than stop.  Rewind.  Try again.  I am going to stop.  Receive forgiveness.  And start anew.  I think I like this way better than a "do over" day.

Friday's Free Advice - When All Else Fails...

I live in the Northwest.  Rain is part of the package.  In fact, it is 99% of the way we do life here.  My daughter, Sydney, who is a native, has made it very clear to me that there is a difference between rain, drizzle, and a slight sprinkle.  It’s pretty much all the same to me.  When wet stuff falls from the sky – hard, soft, fast or slow - I call it rain.  

A couple of days ago, I was waiting to pick Sydney up in the carpool line at her school.  We were parked a good distance from the building.  On a dry day it would make for a nice, refreshing jaunt.  On a day like this one in particular, it could only be defined as something out of a nightmare.  We were getting dumped on.  The real rain was pouring.  After I had given Jackson and Brooklyn their stave-off-the-boredom-while-waiting-for-their-sister-snacks, Jackson started bouncing in his seat saying, “Mommy, I need to go potty.”  (This seems all too familiar to me.)  “How bad?” was my reply (hoping the bouncing was more for dramatic effect).  “Mommy, I need to go potty now!”  “Can you wait until we get to Sydney’s ballet school (which is a good thirty minutes away)?” Futile.  The poor guy needed to go.  What to do?

As I visualized myself wading through the puddles and raindrops with two children and a broken umbrella, I could feel a panic attack coming on (I’ve never had one, but I’m pretty sure that’s what was happening to me).  Not to mention that I was dressed “up” for a class I would be teaching that evening (a parenting class, no less).  I found an old zip-lock baggy, and was struck with instant inspiration.  Maybe he could tinkle in the baggie?  But then what?  There was no trash nearby…nowhere to dispose the evidence.  Jackson was beginning to wriggle and bounce even more intensely.  Then I noticed one of my water bottles.  I brought two with me that afternoon: one for the car, and one for later.  I quickly chugged the remaining water from bottle number one and turned to Jackson.

“Jackson, you are going to go pee-pee in this bottle.”

The look on Jackson’s face was a mixture of confusion, shock. and a little fear.

“Jackson, this is going to be fun.  You are going to put your pee-pee in this water bottle!”

I began unfastening him.  He was warming up to the idea.  We got everything situated…and…”tah-dah!”…mission accomplished.

The first words out of Jackson’s mouth were, “Mommy, this is fun!” 

“Yes, it is.”

Then he added, “Look!  It’s yellow!  My favorite color!”

Oh happy day!

Have no fear.  The contents were emptied out on an unsuspecting bush later after the rain died down.  And as far as I can tell, there has been no emotional damage done.

So, tell me…when all else fails, what do you do?

Friday’s Free Advice:  Share your “When All Else Fails” stories.  I would certainly love to hear them!  Mommy moments are much more fun when shared with other mommies…who have been there a time or two.

Grace For A Budding "Frugalista"

Last week I quickly jotted down a few thoughts on grace.  After three decades plus of serving God, it would appear that my heart has reawakened to the glorious grace he has for me…that he has always had for me.  Where on earth have I been?  Oh, yeah, that’s right…I’ve been over there in the corner, comparing myself to the mom whose five-year-old is learning multiplication while I don’t even understand the directions for Sydney’s first grade math homework.  And wouldn’t you know it, just as I have stepped into the irresistible life of grace, the enemy has been on alert – prepping for that one moment of weakness when he can swoop in and tear me down.   

I spent a weekend get-away with a couple of girlfriends recently.  It was fabulous.  We got out of town, sat around in our sweats (hello…comfy clothes is my love language!), ate scrumptious food, watched HGTV and a good ‘ol chick flick, and - just to be certain this was a full fledged girls’ weekend - there was a whole lot of talking.  While the headache from sleep deprivation nearly took me out the morning after, I had a truly amazing time.  However, there were a few moments of internal struggle for me off and on throughout our conversations.  You see, I have incredible friends.  They do just about everything great.  I think I’ve mentioned this fact before in a previous post.  As we chatted it up about motherhood, our kids, and our hubbies, I almost had to pinch myself because, for a moment, I truly thought I was in the presence of female greatness.  They do it all.  Not that their lives have been perfect because each has had her fair share of personal struggle, but they’ve handled every challenge superbly.  And to top it off…they are serious coupon clippers – down to their portable coupon file-a-folders.  When they broke these babies out, I thought I would fall off my seat.  One gal asked me if I “do” coupons.  Yes, I do “do” coupons, but apparently not like they do.  Listening to them gab on and on about all the free stuff they get with coupons, the $5 Target purses and a lifetime supply of Coke, a little voice in my head started taunting me. 

“You only thought you were a good steward of your money.  Look at these women.  They really know how to manage what God has given to them.  God only blesses those who steward their money well.”

Ugh.  Needless to say, I left that conversation with a huge knot in my stomach.  This kind of thinking, however, is completely distorted.  In the past I would have allowed the untrue message to eat me alive, but not this time!

My thoughts turned to God’s truth (and even with the truth in mind, I had to battle this one out):

“And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.  Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness.” – 2 Corinthians 9:8 & 10.

The beautiful thing about grace is redemption.  The beautiful thing about redemption is freedom.  And freedom is exhilarating and irresistible.  I live my life surrounded by spills and dust bunnies big enough to hop right out the door on their own, yet in the midst of it all, God is there, ready and willing to help me clean up the dirt and grime all the while holding me firmly and lovingly in his tender grasp.  And as for coupons, well, I’ll keep doing my best.  If I never win a “frugalista of the year” award, so be it.  God’s grace abounds to me in all things, and at all times.  When I am weak, he is my strength.  When I head out the door for the grocery store and forget my coupons altogether (which happened just the other day), he doesn’t judge or shake his head at me.  Rather, he helps me shop more wisely because he knows how much I depend upon him and his ability to supply and increase my store of seed.

And I’m pretty sure that my amazing girlfriends will still love this budding “Frugalista” in spite of my coupon file-a-folder deficiency! 

I’m learning to walk in God’s grace at all times, and in all things.

Sisters

Okay, I started off writing this morning's post about my one year blogging anniversary, which is tomorrow (quite a week for anniversaries!).  However, after breaking up a few dozen sibling disputes over the course of an hour, my train of thought has been derailed, and I have found myself thinking about sisters.  My sister, to be exact. 

Her name is Jen, and today is her birthday.  I won't tell you how old she is, even though she would have NO PROBLEM declaring my age for all to hear - she's just that thoughtful and sweet. 

Jen has always been my partner in crime.  We were souly responsible for shaking a bottle of baby powder into the engine of my grandfather's brand new riding lawn mower, which - fortunately for us - we were little and cute, and he didn't kill us.  In the early days of itinerating, we stood side-by-side declaring, "Bwana sifiwe" and sang Amy Grant's "I Have Decided", making our mom so proud.  We taught Sunday school to masses of Kikuyu children on a weekly basis, and played "Kikuyu mamas" when we got home from church, wrapping our baby dolls on our backs with kikois.  We lived out brief but exciting careers as models.  We've been chased, on foot, by a herd of elephant, and we've been reprimanded in the Amsterdam airport because we tried to order Toblerone without nouget and honey.  We've stood up to mean girls, body surfed in the Indian ocean, helped our mother lug ten, fifty pound, carry on bags across the world (which I am convinced they made the "one carry on per person" policy in her honor), and live for pedicures and coffee talk.  We fought over boys, and cried over boys, took boys' names and spit them out in vain, supported and held each other through bigger heartbreaks and sorrows than middle school crushes.  Jen has been my very best friend from the time we could recognize each other, and when I need a good dose of unedited reality, she's the one I call.

Jen, we are as different as day is to night.  You are the wild and outspoken, and I am the steady and true.  I am so grateful that God put us in the same family.  You are a strong and giften woman, someone I truly admire and aspire to be like.  And nobody, and I mean nobody, can pull off  the White Christmas "Sisters" song like you and me, babe (believe me, I've heard others try).  We nail it every time.  

Happy Birthday, Jen!

Sisters.  Sisters.  There were never such devoted sisters!

Anniversary

Joel is an All-American boy: red, white and blue and, I am convinced, bleeds the Star Spangled Banner.  He was a boy scout growing up too.  Not just a boy - like every other American boy - in a scout troop, but my hubby was an Eagle Scout.  He went all the way, solidifying his “mom and apple pie American-ness”.  He sheds a masculine tear when he hears the song, “Proud To Be An American” and has Brooks and Dunn blaring on his iPod.   That’s my guy – my All-American man.

Then there’s me.  Before Hannah Montana, I was the original “Best of Both Worlds” poster child, mixing my “Born in the U.S.A.”/“Girl of the Savannah” cultures.  Our home is stuffed to the gizzard with treasures I’ve collected from the far corners of the earth: Kenya, Tanzania, France, Belgium, Morocco, Sri Lanka and Singapore, to name a few.  Squeezed into a mixture of priceless family heirlooms and stateside mementos that reflect the multi-facetted me.  

Our cultural backgrounds aside, Joel and I hail from two completely different planets as well (you know, Mars and Venus).  Opposite in temperaments, personalities, stress management, and giftings, we are truly a match-made-in-heaven (because it had to be God that brought we two characters together – it’s the only way to explain us without using the word insane).  Yet, as insane as our union may appear to the human eye, God, in his wisdom, must have seen something extraordinary that could be when two became one.  He must have heard the deep longing in my soul for something a little bit edgy and fun, and he put Joel in my path (who lives his life somewhere between conquering the world and running around with his hair on fire).  God must have known that a guy like Joel would need a fire extinguisher every now and then, and I could bring peace to his storms. 

I am thankful that God spared me from past relationships that I truly believed would be his best for me.  I am thankful that God allowed me to feel the brief sting of rejection and disappointment, when other loves failed.  I am eternally grateful that God gave Joel to me.  I love his passion, intensity, his drive and determination, his teachable spirit that has proved - time and time again - that no matter what, Joel would do anything, give anything, sacrifice anything…for me.  I am his one and only gal, and he is my one and only man. 

Happy Anniversary, Joel!  I love you!

Daily Dose Of Grace

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." - 2 Corinthians 12:9 Amy's translation: "His grace is sufficient when my house hasn't been cleaned in two weeks, when Sydney's make-up homework pile is six inches high, when I haven't opened my Bible study book in over a week, and especially on those evenings when dinner comes from a can.  His grace abounds when I'm exhausted, sad, overwhelmed and sleep deprived, because when I am weak, He is strong."

The power of God's grace has pierced deep into my soul, and without it I am afraid I would live in a perpetual state of guilt.  His perfect love and all-sufficient grace have flooded my soul like an April downpour, and I'm soaking wet.  Washing away the guilt that I lug around on my shoulders every single day, He is inviting me to sing in the rain that will blossom into a beautiful array of May flowers.

I'm on a journey to rediscover God's grace in my life, and I hope you'll hang in here with me.

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." - Galatians 5:1

Friday's Free Advice & The Winner Is...

Late yesterday afternoon I called up my mom who was en route to D.C..  I think I may have started the conversation out with something like, "My give-away was a flop!"  She laughed.  I do believe I had prefaced the post with the possibility that it could either be divine inspiration or a HUMUNGOUS flop, hoping that the divine really did have something to do with my idea.  In any case, as I was talking about the one person who threw her hat in the ring to participate in the "pay it forward" give-away, my mom gently pointed out that this was not entirely a flop.  

Tammy, whom I have known for some 25 years, is the winner of the My Bangs Look Good and Other Lies I Tell Myself give-away.  I'm so happy for her because she was the very first person to comment on my book review too (I kind of get the impression that she really wants this book!), and she is one of my closest friends in the world.  When we were high school seniors I recall sitting poolside on a beautiful sunny day in Nairobi and laughing our heads off at some pretty strange humor we were sharing.  Kindred we were, and kindred we still are.  We called ourselves "soul sisters".  Yes.  We were a little bit dorky, but that's what makes our friendship so dear to me.  

Now, for the reason that I have come to realize that this give-away was not a flop.  Only one person's name could be drawn anyway.  Only one person would receive a copy of the book from me, and that person would then be responsible for paying it forward.  Had nobody commented on the post, then it would have been a flop.  But by the very fact that someone commented, this book will make its way to Tammy, and she'll pass it on to another girlfriend, and so on and so forth.  This is not a flop to me.  This was the soul purpose of the give-way.  Mission Accomplished.

Which brings me to my Friday's Free Advice:  Pay It Forward. 

It could be anything: a cup of coffee, a compliment, a door opened, a note of encouragement.  We have all received unsolicited acts of kindness from a friend or stranger at some point.  (Quite possibly already once this morning.)  My advice?  Pay it forward.  Think of how touching it is to be the recipient of a random act of kindness.  It feels great.  So, why can't we pass those good feelings on?  Not only is it sweet to receive, but even more so to extend a genuine act of thoughfulness. 

Little or small, it will bring you much more joy than the person you are blessing!  Trust me.  I can't wait to get Tammy's book shipped off to her.  In fact, I need to wrap this up quickly so that I can do just that!

Pay it forward, one random act of kindess at a time!

Pay It Forward - A Give-Away With A Twist!

Okay, let me preface this post with the fact that I am the most non-spontaneous person on the planet.  Not kidding here.  And what I have up my sleeve right now could quite possibly be divine inspiration or a HUMUNGOUS flop.  I guess we'll find out... This morning Joel and I were talking at the kitchen table, gulping down a pot of coffee because we were out late last night, and the three little people that we share this house with were up at an ungodly hour.  That said, we started talking about God and stuff God is doing in our lives, which instantly inspired me to start sharing all the beautiful nuggets of wisdom and encouragement I gleaned from the book, My Bangs Look Good and Other Lies I Tell Myself (you can read my full review here).  I pulled my book out and started reading the underlined portions aloud (which was a lot because I practically underlined the whole thing).  We both laughed.  Good times.

As our conversation drew to a close, I sighed, "I wish I could buy a copy of this book for all my girlfriends."

Not too long after, I came up with an idea.  What if I did a give-away on my blog - the prize being a copy of My Bangs Look Good... - with the stipulation that the winner has to pay it forward?  Meaning the lucky recipient of the book would then post their own My Bangs Look Good... give-away - via a blog or Facebook.  And the winner of that give-away must do the same thing, and so on and so forth.  Somehow, someway, keeping the goodness of this gift moving along like a wave of Tired Supergirls!

So...here's how this give-away is going down:

• Leave a comment on this blog sharing your most recent "oops" moment.

• A winner will be randomly chosen on Thursday and announced Friday on my blog (only those living in the continental United States eligible).

• The winner will be responsible for setting up their own give-away through a blog or Facebook (whichever medium works for them).

Let's pay it forward...one book at a time!

Book Review: My Bangs Look Good and Other Lies I Tell Myself

I’m feeling like big time today.  I actually get to participate in a blog tour for a book written by an author that I have come to absolutely love: Susanna Foth Aughtmon, the original Tired Supergirl.  After reading (in a record, 24 hours – stop the presses!) her first book, All I Need Is Jesus, And A Good Pair Of Jeans, I came to the conclusion that Susanna and I are kindred spirits.  I nodded myself dizzy, laughed out loud, and the phrase “For goodness’ sake!” became a part of my daily word usage.  So, allow me to relish in this big-time moment and share with you my thoughts on Susanna’s latest book release, My Bangs Look Good and Other Lies I Tell Myself.  

She had me at “Bang-tastrophe”.  Delivery of Susanna’s book came at the onset of spring break, we had a full house (my parents were visiting from South Africa), and the chicken pox had descended upon our home (as I’ve mentioned several dozens of times on this blog).  Panic was clearly on the agenda.  Weeks prior to this, I had committed to participating in the blog tour for her new book, and I didn’t want to let anyone down.   On the brink of nervous stomach upset, I wondered, “When on earth am I going to have time to read this book and write a quasi-articulate review?” 

I opened the book to take a quick peek and peruse the introduction.  The tears began to flow like Niagara Falls (the good kind of tears – a happy Niagara Falls), accompanied by laughter, reading page after page out loud to my mom while she cleaned up the kitchen for me (bless her heart, I miss her so!).  We both had to stop a few times to catch our breath, wiping the tickled wetness from our eyes.  It was like she had a window’s view to my soul, my past, and my daily mishaps.  Quickly, I realized that getting this book read and reviewed was not going to be as difficult a task as I had earlier stressed it would be.

There are few people in this world that I truly feel capture the angst, joy, wonder, humor, and passion of womanhood, wifehood, and motherhood in such a real and authentic way as Susanna.  Down to earth, right where I am, walking the same road, and wrestling with the same struggles, questions, and unfinished dreams, the transparency and openness through Susanna’s words reminded me that I am not alone on this journey with God.      

Each chapter of the book addresses a lie that the Liar (Satan) works his darnedest to convince us is true about ourselves.  Then, Susanna brings that lie into alignment with the truth in God’s Word, revealing what he actually believes and desires for us, his girls.  The Liar loves to remind us of all the times we’ve messed it up good.  Crippling us with “stinky half-truths”, he jibes at our hearts, taunting that until we get it right, well, we’re toast.    Here’s the thing: truth produces transformation.  God’s truth about us - what he thinks about us, what his plans for our lives are, where he wants to take us – when captured deep in our hearts, will set us free and bring complete transformation.  Sometimes convicting, sometimes affirming, Susanna shines a spotlight on God’s truth, straight from his heart to hers to ours. 

It seems that God is always up to something with me.  Last year, I think he was trying to teach me to appreciate the little things, indescript miracles that were taking place all year long.  I was waiting for the BIG one (you know, the BIG answer to prayer) all the while God was working out the smaller details of my life.  The lesson I learned was as simple as saying “thank you” and realizing just how far God has brought me and my family.

This year, the theme of my life has been “trust” and “grace”.  A timely read, “My Bangs Look Good…” challenged my thoughts on identity in Christ and the unfathomable grace he has for me.  I have a choice on whether or not I’m going to muddle my way through this next year, doing life as I always have, and hoping that there will be some new outcome at the end of it.  On the other hand, I can take a huge leap of faith and trust that God’s tender arms of mercy and grace will catch me as I choose to embrace the raw reality of myself and the transformation God deeply desires for me. 

“If we believe the Bible (and we do), we have a choice.  We get to choose death or life. Hmmm.  Now which one do you want?  Life is light and growth and truth and change, and quite possibly some discomfort and socially awkward situations.  I’m just being honest.  And death?  Death is staying exactly how we are."

 - Excerpt from Chapter 5

Filled with tear-inducing laughter and a serious look at the woman in the mirror, I challenge all of my readers, and anyone else who will listen to me, to get this book and read it.  You can find it on Amazon today!

Good luck on your journey, and don’t forget, we are not alone.  We’re in this thing together!

Available now at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.

A Spoon Full Of Sugar

You know that phrase, "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade"?  Personally, I would like to add a spoon full of sugar.  The lemons in life are blown out tires, rainy and dreary Easters, cabin fever with three sick children, the economy, earthquakes and tragedy.  If you squeeze all of those you are only left with sour juice.  Personally, I prefer a little sweetness when I sip lemonade.  So, I add some sugar: precious time, including Easter, with my family who lives far away, cuddling on the couch with my little ones while the rain pours down outside, an unexpected extra day with my mom, a gift from a friend.  Suddenly the lemons aren't so tart when you add a spoon full of sugar.

Grace

Today I am grateful for grace.  

Grace from a friend when I'm not quite together and feeling terribly sorry for myself.

Grace from my husband when I accidentally smack him in the face first thing in the morning (I really thought I was barely touching him, but apparently at 6am my touch is not so gentle).

Grace from my family when meals aren't ready on time, and the dishwasher is full to overflowing leaving us with no clean dinner plates (thus the reason we keep paper plates on hand).

Grace from ministry directors when when my children get sick and need me the most, and I have to drop the juggling act for a little while.

Grace from my sister when days go by and I haven't called just to see how she's doing.

Grace from my Heavenly Father.  I haven't lived a perfect life.  I've messed up...a lot.  But God has been so good and so faithful to me.  Even now, when I struggle thinking I need to somehow earn God's approval, He bends down, lifts my head and whispers, "GRACE" to me. 

Ephesians 2:8-10

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith - and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no one can boast.  For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

As I reflect on Good Friday, and all that was sacrificed on this day thousands of years ago, I remember it was God's grace poured out upon that cross...for me.  I can barely comprehend such a love.  What a gift!  And I am completely grateful.

Grateful for God's grace.

Red Ballpoint Pen Strokes - A Re-post...

Ms. Shaffer was notorious for driving poor, unsuspecting seventh grade students to tears with her ruthless grading scale and sharp-witted tongue. She was a legend at Rosslyn Academy, who we truly believed coined the phrases: “empty vessels make the most noise,” “little things amuse little minds,” and – probably my favorite – “open mouth, insert foot…and chew.” She never raised her voice, and pulled these zingers off with a smile on her face and a piece of chalk in her hand, all the while listening to Paul Simon – whom she loved. She was brutal. And I was terrified.  

Our first assignment in Ms. Shaffer’s seventh grade English class was to write an introductory journal entry telling her a little bit about ourselves. I was so relieved, and so excited because I loved to write. (Since I was eight years old, and wrote my first poem, I have loved to write.) I thought to myself, this is my chance to win Ms. Shaffer over…she’s going fall in love with me and I’m going to be her star student! Internally there was a serious party going on in my heart and Julie Andrews was singing, “I have confidence in confidence alone!” I couldn’t wait to get home and tackle my “Introducing Amy” journal entry. My fears were quickly subsiding.

As I sat down at my desk at home and opened up my square paper journal, I began to brainstorm about what to write. I really wanted to impress Ms. Shaffer, so I knew it needed to be good, and it needed to sound smart. Sounding smart was about the most important thing in the world to me when I was in school – that, and boys, of course. To be perfectly honest with you, sounding smart is still something I really strive for. Funny thing is, when you try too hard to do, or be, something because you really, really want to do, or be that particular thing, it usually ends up blowing up in your face. Which in my case, it did…big time.

Back to “thinking smart thoughts”: I remembered this “Family Ties” episode I had watched one time, and Alex – played by Michael J. Fox (dreamy) – used the word intellectual to describe himself. Alex was a very smart boy. Therefore, in my eleven-year-old brain I figured that if I used the word intellectual in my “Introducing Amy” piece Ms. Shaffer would be so impressed with me. Not just because it was a smart word, but it was a big word – and smart people use big words.

Let’s just put it this way, every hope I had in becoming Ms. Shaffer’s little buddy - her class pet, her superstar seventh grader - was dashed the moment she handed my journal back to me. My literary masterpiece was covered – COVERED – in red ink. From start to finish there was hardly any evidence that I had written anything at all because Ms. Shaffer’s red pen of death had completely ripped through the pages of my soul. I was heartbroken. To make matters worse, I didn’t even spell “intellectual” correctly. A smart person would have at least looked it up in the dictionary to verify the spelling, but I’m not too smart. It never even occurred to me to grab my dictionary. Not only that, but I was pretty bummed that I couldn’t even get a decent grade when my assignment was to simply write about myself – the one subject I just happen to know something about. Evidently Ms. Shaffer didn’t think so.

I spent my whole seventh grade English career living in fear and trepidation of Ms. Shaffer’s red ballpoint pen. I worked so hard that year to redeem myself from that hideous first impression. To this day, I honestly don’t know what Ms. Shaffer thought of me (probably something like…emotional). I will say this, however, she (or quite possibly fear) pushed me to work hard – harder than I had ever worked in my life. And then, of all things, English became my favorite subject in school (I’m not sure if Ms. Shaffer is the one to whom the credit is due on this one, but she certainly had a hand in it).

You know, there are times, as I go through my day-to-day activities, when that eleven-year-old girl resurfaces. As I did with Ms. Shaffer, I want to be Jesus’ superstar. I want to present him with an “Introducing Amy” life that will knock His socks off. But I so often mess it all up. I want God to be proud of me. So what do I do? I do what Spiritually smart people do. I get up early and spend time with Him - I pray, I seek, I wait and ask Him to lead and guide my day. I do this, only to get irritated at Brooklyn when she wanders downstairs and interrupts my moment of “Spiritual intellect”. If God had a red ballpoint pen my life would be hopelessly covered with marks and scribbles.

Yesterday morning at church, before we partook in communion, the song “Amazing Love” filled the sanctuary…and I was suddenly overwhelmed – kind of like that feeling when you’ve had the wind knocked out of you. My hands trembled as I held the communion emblems in my fingers.

Amazing love – how can it be? That you my King would die for me? Amazing love – I know it’s true. And it’s my joy to honor you, In all I do, I honor you.

In a strange sort of way, God did have a red ballpoint pen. Although, He didn’t use it to scratch up the pages of my life and leave me covered in permanent ink. God sent Jesus - crucified on a cross…for me. Jesus – whipped, broken, covered in red strokes - poured out His love for me. He nailed my “mean mommy” moment towards Brooklyn to the cross along with His hands and feet - and countless other mistakes I’ve made in my life, the ones I’ve made just today, and the one I will more than likely make in the next hour or so - many, many years ago. He allows me to redeem my less-than-stellar moments, not with red ballpoint pen strokes, but by grace, forgiveness and a second chance. It’s not an excuse to be lazy. I still have a high responsibility in the various roles I play, but God knows I can’t do it alone. He knows I’ll forget to pull the dictionary out and end up misspelling a word or two. So, He allowed Christ to be the one to take the tough grade in my place. Every time I look at myself in the mirror I am reminded of the price that was paid so that I could be forgiven and uncovered with red ballpoint pen strokes. And at the end of the day, I actually get to be God’s superstar student!

Too Much "Life" Going On Around Here

It was only a few short hours after writing and posting Monday's blog that I received the frantic and fuming phone call from Joel that, "My tire just blew out!  It's in shreds!" He was on his way to pick up my mom and dad (whom we haven't seen in over three years because they're missionaries to South Africa) from the airport.

Joel was not happy.  I was a teeny bit (to put in mildly) sad because this meant a delay in our warm, and much anticipated, family reunion.  We did not hang up the phone on good terms.  And I seemingly remember gritting my teeth and snarling something like, "There's too much 'life' going on around here, God!"

I had to excuse myself from the children to catch my breath.

Then Joel called me back five minutes later (just enough time to inhale, exhale, and count to ten).  We made amends, and then thanked God that Joel had not yet exited onto the interstate, but lost the tire right next to an auto body shop.  They had no useful tools (ours just happened to be in our other car...go figure), but were very willing to help out in any way possible.  We were both relieved.

Mom and Dad sat at the airport Starbucks and enjoyed a few more hours of quality time before being fully submerged into the world of Slater craziness.  I was even able to finish baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies (my dad's all-time favorite), and lovingly place them on a cute spring platter.

As you can see, no one is immune to the bumps in the road: chicken pox, endless dust bunnies and dirty bathrooms, home remodel projects, marital squabbles and blown out tires.  It's all a part of life.   While I can't say that I always take those bumps with a hearty smile on my face, I honest to goodness do try to let God carry me through even the most challenging road trips.  His grace really is sufficient for me yesterday, today and tomorrow...no matter what 'life' decides to throw my way!

A Few Bumps In The Road

Sydney was upset last night.  I don't know if her internal angst was authentic, or if she was grasping at straws to find a way to stay up a little later.  In any case, she was feeling down and needed a moment to process.  In true drama queen fashion, Sydney burst out with, "Why is everything so weird?  Nothing is normal!  Our family is not right!"  Followed by instant tears.  

What she was referring to was Brooklyn's chickenpox, a playroom in disarray as my in-laws are helping us to complete a room remodel, spring break, and wild bursts of  mad house cleaning by yours truly, in preparation for my parents' arrival (which is today, by the way).  All of which have put a halt to our regular routine and structure.  Being a person who craves both of these, I could relate to Sydney's momentary breakdown.  What I said to her is what I have to say to myself on a sometimes regular basis.

There are times when we are going along our merry way and all of a sudden we encounter a little bump in the road.  Occasionally, there are several little bumps all at once that can quickly slow us down or change our direction.  They aren't always bad, but most of the time, they aren't what we were hoping for or expecting. 

Since we can't control when or where those bumps in the road will pop up - like the chickenpox - it is imperative to learn how to maneuver around these inconveniences.  We ( meaning me) are so accustomed to preparing for the big stuff that comes our way.  We believe that God will grant us the faith, strength, and perseverance to get through, and over, the Mount Everests in life.  But what about the bumps in the road? 

I heard a story, recently, about a man who ran across the United States of America.  When he reached the finish line,  a reporter asked him what was the most difficult part in the journey?  Was it the long trek through the desert?  Or the endless days running through fields of wheat and corn?  When the runner was finally able to catch his breath, he shook his head and went on to say that it was none of those things that made the journey difficult.  It was, in fact, the sand in his shoes. 

It's not always the obvious challenges of life, but the sand in our shoes that causes our faith to falter.

The bumps will come and go.  And one day, when we look back, we'll see that the rough patch was never as bad as we thought it was.  We don't know what lies around the corner, and there may be more bumps to encounter, but with God's grace, we'll make it through.  I don't want to allow a few minor inconveniences to upset my faith or cause me to question God's presence in my life.  As noble as it is to trust God to get me over the mountains, I believe it is equally so to trust His hand when I face a few bumps in the road. 

No matter what you are facing, may you know today that God is with you.  His hand is upon you.  He'll be there through the big stuff, and even the little stuff.  And, if your mountains are looking more and more like little speed bumps right now, may your faith in God's presence not shrink right along with them.  May your faith, in fact, be big enough to get you through whatever bumps in the road you face today.

Friday's Free Advice

I'm low on creativity today.   

Brooklyn has the Chicken Pox.

Sydney is officially on spring break.

Jackson is in rare form.

My parents are flying in on Monday.

I've been cleaning my house like a mad woman.

To say this week has been "stressful" would be putting in mildly.

And it's not even 10am...

I'm not one to whine and complain, and certainly have done my best to avoid meaningless drivel on this blog.  However, today I'm feeling tapped.  Maybe you have been here before too...or maybe you're feeling tapped out right along with me. 

So, what would I advise on a day such as this?  For me, it's looking closely at my list of priorities and focusing only on those at the top.  What's on the top of my list?  God, Joel and my kids.  In that order.

If I don't make it out of my jammies today, then so be it.  Contrary to last week's advice, there are days when the "interesting" smell will just have to do!

And that's all I've got.

Where Does Jesus Live?

Exasperated, I sat down, put my head in my hands and whispered a quick prayer for strength and patience.  The following is the conversation that ensued:

Me:  “Oh, Jesus.  I need you.”

Jackson:  “Mommy, Jesus not here.”

Me:  “Yes, He is.”

Jackson:  “No, Mommy.  He’s not here.”

Me:  “Then, where is He?”

Jackson:  “He’s at His home.”

Me:  “Where’s Jesus’ home?”  (Here’s hoping he says something like, “My heart!")

Jackson:  “At His town.”

Me:  “What’s the name of the town?”

Jackson:  “I don’t know, Mama…I don’t know.  Where’s His town?”

Me:  “Does Jesus live in your heart?”

Jackson:  Shakes head, “no”.

Brooklyn eagerly jumps into the conversation at this point:  “Heaven!  His town is Heaven!”

And there you have it.  Where Jesus lives, according to Brooklyn and Jackson.

I Have Confidence

My six-year-old, Sydney, came skipping down the stairs the other day wearing her sassy jeans, pink t-shirt, flip-flops, Disney Princess sunglasses atop her head, swinging her sparkly purple purse on her forearm.  When she met me at the bottom of the staircase she looked me straight in the eye and announced, “I’m ready.”  She was referring to the Kids Praise Company spring musical auditions at our church.  For weeks she had been sitting with her CD player rehearsing each song, especially her favorites, closing her eyes in deep concentration so as not to miss any of the notes.  The day for auditions had finally come, and like she said, Sydney was ready.  

After the try-outs she made her way over to where I was waiting, shoulders back, head held high, and informed me that she got it.  She did it.  In her words, “I did great!”  I had to get a little clarification on the “I got it” statement, seeing that we were surrounded by a room full of children waiting to audition.  She didn’t actually get any part, yet, but was so confident in her performance that there was no doubt in her mind that she had nailed the audition.

That girl has more confidence in her little finger than I have in my whole body.  There are times I wonder to myself, “Whose kid is this?”  She is so secure.  Whether or not she is even singing on key, she believes she’s a superstar.  And I am in awe.

One of my favorite movies of all time is The Sound Of Music.  In it, Maria – Julie Andrews – dances through the streets of Salzburg, swinging her guitar case in one hand singing, “I have confidence in confidence alone!”  It is truly inspirational.  I want that kind of confidence.  And I want my children to have that too.

Sadly, I have to say there is a growing trend in our society that believes in order to instill confidence and achievement in our children, we must remove any factors that may, in fact, set them up for failure.  In his article,"Self-Esteem, Self-Destruction”, George Will writes about a school in Massachusetts that teaches children to jump rope without using ropes.  Apparently, this is supposed to raise their self-esteem because failure to jump rope (with an actual rope) could impair their self-concept for life.  This is insanity to me!  Citing Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman from their book, “NutureShock: New Thinking About Children”, Will writes:

“Children incessantly praised for their intelligence (often by parents who are really praising themselves) often underrate the importance of effort.  Also, overpraised children are prone to cheating because they have not developed strategies for coping with failure.”

Confidence and a healthy self-esteem are achieved, not by incessant praise and equality in sports, but by failure: learning to try and try and try again.  Pride in our kids should not be contingent on whether or not they do well in soccer, ballet or academics, but how much effort and discipline they have put into them.

As we were driving home from the spring musical auditions I had a perfect teaching moment with Sydney.  We began talking about the part she had tried out for.  She monopolized the first half of the conversation by expressing her passion for this particular role.  She could “see herself” playing this part, and was adamant that she got it.  Eventually, I was able to slowly explain to her that just because she tried out did not necessarily mean that she was going to get the part.  I had her think about all the other boys and girls sitting in the waiting room to audition.  There were a lot of children trying out for parts, some of them for the same role she wanted.  I pointed out that there are not enough solos and speaking parts for everyone.  I gently explained that there was a real possibility that she might not get the solo she auditioned for, and perhaps not get anything at all.  Over the next fifteen minutes I listened as her whole world came crashing down.  Was I being mean to my daughter, or destroying her self-esteem by telling her the truth?  No way.  Once she was able to face reality, get a good cry out of her system and talk through her “I can’t handle it!” feelings, she settled down.

Later, Sydney asked me if I was going to be proud of her if she got the solo.  I said no.  I would not be proud of her if she got it, because I was already proud of her for being brave enough to try out in the first place.  I told Sydney that I would be very happy for her if she, indeed, got the part, and subsequently, would be very sad for her if she didn’t.  However, my pride in her was already established because of her bravery, character and simply because of who she is.

Confidence doesn’t come easy.  Children have to learn how to work for those things they really want.  They have to learn to come to grips with failure, and be encouraged to keep on trying - to not give up just because something is hard.  I could care less if my kids get the best parts in spring musicals, make the soccer team or have the best grades in the class.  I believe they are completely capable of succeeding.  And if they are working hard, putting their best foot forward and not giving up when disappointment comes, then I’ll know I’ve done a good job.  I will have given them something far more valuable than a false sense of success.  I will have instilled in them the ability to fail and the ability to achieve – confidence in confidence alone!