best dad on the planet

This is for Shaun who is probably the best Dad on the planet. That is a tremendous blessing to me but, if I’m honest, sometimes it’s hard to live with a guy like that. I love my son, it’s true, but I’m not going to be nominated for “Mother of the Year” any time soon.

I see what a wonderful relationship Shaun is building with Seth and I’m awed by it. It’s like watching an acrobat fly through the air. You see him moving so precisely and in that moment, as you watch his skill so masterfully displayed, you realize just how clumsy you are. Sometimes I watch Shaun like that.

I’d like to think Shaun has this endless supply of energy but I’ve seen him get tired. I’d like to think he never gets frustrated but it happens sometimes. I’d like to think he never needs time for himself but he does. So what is it then? Something his parents did or didn’t do? Sheer will-power?

I was really curious so I asked him about it one day and he told me this: “I just knew that I was going to be a great Dad.” Translation: “Whatever it takes, whatever the sacrifice, I made the choice a long time ago that I was going to be there for my kid.” It’s not some lofty goal. It’s what he lives out every day.

Shaun, you’re my hero!

Seth, what a lucky boy you are!

Time for me to write again in what seems to be a monthly ritual at this point. If only I could somehow convince myself to eat chocolate at such a frequency! Today, in honor of Mother’s Day, I have jotted down some random thoughts about my life as a mom and a time that can simply be referred to as “before.” Enjoy!

Before I was a mom, I never really understood the sheer bliss or needfulness of a long, hot bath.

Before I was a mom, I could make it through a Halmark commercial without even thinking of crying.

Before I was a mom, I thought mothers who let their children wear brown shirts, red shorts, yellow rubber boots and winter gloves in public were in desperate need of parenting classes.

Before I was a mom, I never had heated discussions with Shaun about nap times, childhood nutrition, or immunizations.

Before I was a mom, I didn’t hide the fact that I was drinking Coke by pouring it in to a dark-colored plastic cup while turning my back so that the whole ridiculous act couldn’t be witnessed by anyone. (That’s right. We don’t let Seth drink Coke - maybe when he’s ten).

Before I was a mom, I slept soundly all night long without interruption.

Before I was a mom, I didn’t know anything about playgroups during which the topic inevitably turns to, you guessed it, nap times, childhood nutrition or immunizations.

Before I was a mom, I never really changed dirty diapers. In fact, I can only remember doing that once. I found out later that I put the diaper on backwards. For some reason, those people never called me back to babysit their kid.

Before I was a mom, I kept cleaning solutions containing chemicals that are harmful if swallowed in convenient, unlocked locations.

Before I was a mom, my face never beamed when I heard the word “I wuv ou.”

Before I was a mom, I never blew bubbles just for fun.

Before I was a mom, I never felt the joy of watching a wiggly little lamb steal the show by rolling down the steps multiple times in the middle of the Christmas pageant.

Before I was a mom, I never ran from room to room with a large foam sword yelling “PIRATES!” at the top of my lungs just because someone asked me to.

Before I was a mom, I couldn’t understand the wonder finger paint.

Before I was a mom, I could never fully appreciate the sacrifices my own mother made for me.

Before I was a mom, I didn’t make up silly songs about stinky feet, elephants, the three little pigs, or some combination of the three.

Before I was a mom, I never experienced the amazement of gazing into a little face and finding a little bit of myself looking right back at me.

Before I was a mom, I never snuck into anyone’s room and sat down quietly by their bed, just to watch him sleep.

Before I was a mom, I never knew what I was missing.

Here’s wishing you (and your Mom) a wonderful Mother’s Day.

scenes from a worship service

I took some time Sunday just to look around during the worship service. This is unusual for me. I generally try very hard to focus on anything BUT the people around me. People can be so distracting sometimes, completely interfering with my worship experience. (Did you catch the thinly veiled sarcasm there? I hope so. I am quite selfish, to be sure, but even my ego has limits - or so I would like to think). Just ahead of me these two wonderful older couples stood singing. They’ve been walking with the Lord for so many years yet there they stood, still worshiping God. A few seats over there was another ardent worshipper, singing her heart out, dancing, jumping, loving the Savior and shouting blessings to God. Just ahead of me, a young man took a seat behind his mother and began to pray for her. Then they embraced. She began to cry and hold him even tighter. Sitting beside me was Erica and her beloved, John. Too many memories flooded my mind - bible studies, long talks, all those emails. I’ve watched her grow up. Today I realized that we will not worship together again for a very long time. I turned to the right and I saw my parents, hands clasped together. I know what they have been through these past few years; that gesture was not meaningless to me.

The beauty of all these moments moved me nearly to tears. I am acquainted enough with the people in that room to know the hard times that some of them have been through. Some of them are still going through it, yet they praise the Father. They look expectantly to him. I felt in that service as though a window had suddenly flown open and through it I could see these people, not as they appeared, but as they truly are - the children of God. And in that moment, I sensed, if just for a moment, an inkling of the His deep, unending love for us all.

a quite heart

While reading the Psalms these words captivated me - “I have cultivated a quiet heart.” Out of context, I know, but the idea of a quiet heart struck me as amazing, beautiful, and sadly, uncommon, at least in my life lately. Lately…I wonder if I have I ever known it. I read those words again and again and then the next line, “Like a baby content in its mother’s arms, my soul is a baby content.”

My mind would say that life leaves little room for quietness. Things must be done. Quite is a sacrifice laid upon the alter of the god of accomplishment. But the Truth, thank God for it, moves beyond my arguments. It seems I have misunderstood quietness, mistaking it for neutrality or even inertia. Oh, but how horrible it would be if the only people fortunate enough to possess a quite heart were those who attempted nothing at all! No, there must be more to it than that. Perhaps quite is borne, not from lack of activity, but by presenting life as a whole and in detail to Christ. It sounds so simple. It is not.

rice and eggs and a place of abundance

I ate lunch outside today. Why I don’t do that more often? We’ve been blessed with such beautiful weather lately. A beautiful day and a good meal – rice and eggs. My grandmother used to fix that for me sometimes. She was a wonderful Southern cook. She could make anything taste good, even rice and eggs. It was all very satisfying until my mind drifted away to some not-so-generous thoughts about a friend. To be honest, I was surprised to find them there and a little confused.

I'll be the first to admit that I’m no saint but I typically try to regard others with kindness and respect. It is a rare occasion when I find myself feeling negatively towards someone, especially someone I consider a friend. I could have blown it off but today I was curious. Why would I desire a dream to be dashed, a hope to be crushed? Why would I withhold love and encouragement? Why would I secretly desire failure for a friend? All good, uncomfortable questions. I was surprised at how suddenly the answer came. Gently, like a breeze, the word “scarcity” floated into my mind. Something within my spirit began to resonate.

For a moment, or perhaps a lifetime, I have tolerated a great, disastrous untruth – that there is not enough to go around - that you have to beat out everyone else out if you want the prize – that to succeed you must crush the competition. Truth is, if you beat down the competition, you indeed win the race, the game, the fight, whatever, but in doing so, you brutalize your soul. How satisfying is a victory when it leaves behind a trail of broken and bleeding, hurting people? How soon before your glory fades and the trophy begins to tarnish? And when you withhold yourself, your support, your love, your help, how long before you yearn for the very thing you once refused to give?

You know the ending. All of the fame, the glory, the stuff, evaporates. Only faith, hope, and love remain. In these there is no lack or striving, no selfish ambition to muddy the motives of the heart. If I allow it, these glorious ideas move me far beyond hurt and desire, beyond even pride and selfishness. They move me to a wide open space. I imagine it as an expansive field, beautiful and peaceful. Here there is no fear. Here I am free to give my love, my support, and my encouragement to a friend without regard to my own desires. God knows them after all. His hand nourishes and supports them. It is a good place. I think I would like to live here.

my valentine

I thought I’d do something really special for Shaun today, Valentine’s Day, so at lunch I leaned across the table and whispered discreetly, “I just wanted you to know that after lunch I’m going home…to do my taxes.” Hey, it might not been sexy but boy did it bring a smile to his face! So I’ll have to write fast. I don’t want blogging to make a liar out of me.

My CD player has gone on strike recently and I am now forced to listen to random radio stations while driving. Today, apparently, is good music day for free radio - songs about love and romance or at least hooking up - classics like “Love Shack,” and “Pour Some Sugar on Me” (Shaun’s favorite). Inexplicably, “Gone to Carolina in My Mind” made it into the Valentine’s Day rotation. I am thankful for that. Actually, I am thankful for any time a James Taylor song makes it into the rotation. He’s one of my favorites. Someone once told me they met him and he was actually quite strange. I don’t think I liked hearing that at the time but it makes sense to me now. I think creativity requires a certain measure of insanity. Anyway, hearing James Taylor made me think of George Harrison and that made me think of what I consider his finest work, “Something.” So I indulged in a little YouTube whilst preparing my taxes; that is to say, I played the video several times while shuffling papers around. I am replaying it even now - for inspiration, and also because it is a really beautiful song. One of my favorite Beatles tunes – and that’s saying a lot.

Hearing this song, and thinking about how much I like it, I started wondering how incredible it would be if Shaun and I could somehow work it into our 25th anniversary ceremony or something. I know it’s a few years down the road but a girl can dream, can’t she? Suddenly reality crept in - the reality that Shaun has no idea that this is one of my favorite songs…the reality that if, in fact, he does know that it is one of my favorite songs he would probably not remember it on such an occasion…and the ultimate reality that (gasp!) he probably doesn’t like ANY Beatles songs anyway!

I came away from my sudden awakening thinking once again, “How could I have married someone so different!” But then I had to laugh. I laugh because the supreme reality is that I simply could not navigate life without my Shaun, my wonderful, responsible, Type A, fun-loving, bill-paying, fearless, confrontation-handling Shaun, who would, if given the opportunity, choose Def Leppard over The Beatles in a heartbeat. Yes, we are different but oh, how I love him!

Now, it’s time to do some taxes.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

statement of faith

I find it odd that my first blog here would be a statement of faith but it seems that is what this will become in the end. Odd because my blogs as of late have been rather light-hearted, generally consisting of my random thoughts about purses or playgrounds or other issues (not necessarily beginning with the letter p).

My inspiration? An article I found flipping through Real Simple. When I glanced at the title, "After God Left" I was afraid to read it - a bad habit I picked up in my earlier years when I refused to read anything with a hint of doubt about the Christian faith. Later that night I sat down to read, not some scathing commentary, but the story of a young Catholic girl and the faith she lost after the death of her older brother. As I read the author's description of her feelings of loneliess and her longing for faith, I understood her perfectly.

Some would call it the problem of pain - that seems a gross underestimation but for simplicity's sake it must do. My world, my faith, my understanding, came crashing down around me just after my nephew was diagnosed with Leukemia in 2005. He celebrated his third birthday hooked up to an I.V. in a hospital bed. I remember the feelings - intense anger, confusion, overwhelming sadness. I was scared but I allowed myself to ask questions that I had been too afraid to ask before. How do I know that God is real? How can anyone know? Is Christianity like other religions - man's attempt to cope with essential pain and frailty of life? I had no answers. I tried to talk to others about it but that left me only with a persistent and profound sense of loneliness. So I read a great deal. I cried a lot too. It was a mournful time and the most desperate time I have ever experienced. I had lost something very dear to me. I remember yearning for the security I had once found in my very comfortable, very naive set of beliefs . Sometimes I still yearn for that kind of knowing.

In the article, the author remarked that "...(doubt) is the great agitator. It breaks things open. It pushes you into the world. It makes you ask why." I'm inclined to agree. In the end, we arrived at different conclusions. She wrote that she doesn't talk to Jesus anymore, she talks with her brother instead. I remember settling the issue irrevocably the day I decided that I simply didn't possess the faith not to believe. I remember a strange yet peaceful understanding settling into my spirit when I realized that there are certain things that simply can't be known, that can only be believed. And that is how I discovered faith.