The Miraculous Mundane

The last few days, I have been living under one dark cloud of crank.

I wake up with a light heart and ready to face the day, and then some moment comes and reality breaks in and the crank comes out.

I don't want to be active. I don't want to veg. I don't want clean. I don't want to play. I most certainly don't want to run errands with my kids, even though our refrigerator shelves are feeling lonely.

Somewhere in the mixture of the monotony of daily life and the endless pop-up demands of mommy hood, I grow weary. Of all of it. I don't want life to be boring and predictable, but I also don't want any surprises.

I wipe down counters, I put dishes away, I sweep the floor, I feed the faces, I pick up endless superhero "guys", I add things to shopping lists, I hang up clothes.

The monotony.

I kiss a fresh ouchie, I clean sand out of hair, I break up a fight, I wipe some snot, I break up squabbles, I correct an outburst.

The endless pop-up demands of mommy hood.

I am one who has a laser like focus. Just ask Matt what happens when he tries to talk to me if I am reading or trying to write. If I am deep in thought, it is hard to break through to me: "Gretchen? Gretchen??? Hello?"

Because I am naturally formed this way, I have always enjoyed being by myself when it came to personal devotion time with God. Growing up, that meant shutting myself away in my bedroom. In college with multiple roommates, that meant retreating to a prayer room where I could concentrate. As a mommy of one, that meant waking up early in order to check it off my list before the craziness started. As a mommy of two, finding pockets of time that are uninterruptible is nearly impossible.

In our first year of marriage, I would hole myself up in our bedroom to have quiet time with God when we would get home from work for the day. Read my Bible, check. Pray through my written list of prayer requests, check. Write in my journal, check. It didn't take long for me to notice that Matt never sought such time like this. When I would ask him about it, he'd say, "I just talk with God throughout my day, whatever I'm doing".

Hmmmm. Novel idea. But isn't it easy to get distracted that way and aren't there some days where you reach bedtime and realize you haven't spoken at all? That was my fear of trying that approach. I didn't want to risk missing Him.

There have been times this pregnancy where I have felt totally disconnected from God. My brain is one big pile of scrambled eggs and there is no ability to laser focus in on anything except the demand of the moment. I miss the connection. My love language is quality time and lately so little of it feels quality. It feels broken, rushed, slopped together. I'm in survival mode half the time.

I find myself missing early morning Bible reading while I drank my coffee. I miss running on the treadmill while I listened to worship music or a sermon. I miss shutting myself in a room without the door being knocked on or opened or hearing crying on the other side of it.

It's easy to tell myself: this is just a season. You'll be able to connect with God again soon. The boys are only young for so long and they won't need you this much forever. Soon you'll be able to find your pockets of time again when you can check 'connect with God' off the daily schedule.

But the truth is, I'm not really okay with that. I'm not okay with feeling connected someday. I want more of Him today: A) Because I can't make it through the day without His joy and strength and B) Because He's worthy of being wanted every single second and not put up on some shelf for when relationship feels convenient again.

I "joke" every now and then that if it wasn't for God, I would be hooked on some kind of medication to deal with life. I say it smiling, but it feels true. I need Him and I know it. I don't like feeling unplugged.

I read this the other day and it totally resonated with me:

"The great lie of motherhood: I'll find Him when life slows down or this burden lifts or my present struggle no longer nips at my heels...instead, the fight is to find Him when the dishwasher breaks and a friend just doesn't understand me and my daughters' wounds surface again" ("Every Bitter Thing is Sweet" by Sara Hagerty)

Yes!!! I felt it firmly as I underlined the words in the book. It is this moment, every moment really, where He is available to be found. There is something in me that expects Him to show up in the good moments and not the mundane, maniacal ones - which, honestly, is when I need Him most.

When I try to make it through my monotony or pop-up demands without Him, I do myself a disservice by acting in my own power. But when I see every single moment as a chance to meet with Him, I create space for Him to move and speak.

This was verified to me when I read the next day in my devotional:

"His purpose is for me to depend on Him and on His power now. If I can stay calm, faithful, and unconfused while in the middle of the turmoil of life, the goal of the purpose of God is being accomplished in me...it is the process, not the outcome, that is glorifying to God...God's purpose is to enable me to see that He can walk on the storms of my life right now." ("My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers)

God doesn't want my someday, He just wants today. I can't honor Him tomorrow; I only have my right now, in which I can choose to see His hand in the midst of the mundane and the chaos of motherhood.

Just a couple of months ago, my mom posed this question to our parenting class at church: "How will you know that you've been a successful parent?"

I answered assuredly, "If my boys grow up and live for Christ." Nothing else matters to me more than that. By stating that, I was essentially branding myself a failure if I don't see my boys choosing Christ. In a way, I probably will feel like a failure if that happens. However, my life and how it honors God should not ever be based upon the choices that someone else is allowed to make.

This too was written by Sara Hagerty and caused me reexamine this goal:
"If my chief end as a mother is anything less than knowing Him and carrying His glory in my life, I will walk through these years empty".

This moment is all I have to choose to honor Him. It's all I have to choose to love others and put their needs ahead of my own. It's all I have, whether it's mundane or miraculous.

I will meet with Him in the chaos, and not just the convenience of a quiet room.

I will choose to see Him in it all.

Talking with Finn About His Uncle Matt

A couple of weeks ago, we were on our way to our 24 week doctor's appointment and we happened to drive by Woodlawn Cemetery. Finn, for the most part, knows what a cemetery is. He gets the gist.

He also knows that I have a brother who died in a car accident when I was 13.

On this particular day, the drive past the cemetery awoke a flurry of questions within my curious 4 year old. He was wondering about his Uncle Matt.

Finn: What did he look like?
Me: He was tall and skinny. He was handsome, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he loved to dress like a cowboy.
Finn: What did he like to eat?
Me: I remember him making cinnamon applesauce. And I remember that every time Mummy True or Kiki made cookies, he always tried to sneak some of the cookie dough. So he must have liked cookies!
Finn: When will I get to see him?
Me: We won't get to see him again until we get to heaven.
Finn: Will you be happy to see him then?
Me: So, so happy.
Finn: Will you run to him?
Me: You bet I will.
Finn: What would he do if you yelled at him?
Me: Uhhh, he probably would have laughed at me! He was not afraid of me. He was a protector.
Finn: Now you have a new protector.
Me: I do? Who's that?
Finn: Daddy.

Throughout this conversation, I got to talk about my brother Matt, which I don't get to do all that often. I like talking about him. I answered questions about him that I really had to think about, questions I've never been asked before. The whole thing brought about a bubbling in my heart as I spoke. I loved every moment.

While we were waiting in the doctor's office a few minutes later, Finn, who rarely talks to anyone that he doesn't know very well, struck up a conversation with a lady who was also waiting. He told her about heaven and how he was going to see his Uncle Matt there someday.

This is called hope, and this is why we walk this clumsy walk of faith. There is a hope that propels us forward, a hope that a better place awaits us, with the King who created us. A place free from pain and loss and suffering.

This hope is why we talk to our kids about God and try to instill in them a purpose outside of themselves. It's why we continue on in the face of darkness and confusion.

This hope is why we worship, why we pray, why we seek, why we love.

Honestly, it's why we can wake up each morning and keep trying.

There is more, so much more, than this world alone offers us.

When we got home that day, I found some old photos of my brother to show Finn what he looked like. It's the face of one that I can't wait to see again someday. It's the face of one that I want my boys to know, even if they don't know.

My big brother would have been 42 years old today. There is no getting back the time that we lost on this earth with him.

But there is the hope that remains.

One day: when I reach heaven, right after I throw myself at Jesus' feet, I'm searching for that face.

Guilt as a Terrible Parenting Strategy

If you had to ask me what is the single toughest task for me as a parent, it would be easy for me to pinpoint:

Reacting.

I react with my emotions all wrapped up in my children's behaviors. Whether they disappoint, shock, or please me, it is written all over my face and expressed in every word from my mouth.

I've never really considered myself an impulsive person...I love plans and schedules and order. But the impulsivity of my emotional reactions is swifter and more powerful than what I've learned to control.

Too often, I've reacted before I have even processed what happened. If I could just. slow. down. I know that wisdom is lurking around in my brain if my heart would just simmer for a single second.

I'm attending a parenting class on Wednesday nights currently (taught by my mama, nonetheless), and it stuck with me a few weeks ago when she said how important it is to not parent from our emotions. As a parent, it is crucial that we remain in control of the situation by acting, not reacting. Our children get a bit of a free pass when it comes to losing it, we do not.

A couple of weeks ago, I was driving away from a park with my sons. We left on a semi-sour note, as Finn and one of his cousins had been going at it a bit. As we drove out of the parking lot, Finn and I talked about what had happened. He didn't feel like his cousin was being very kind and was upset that I expected him to still be nice in return.

I said to him, "I understand. I understand that it is really tough to be kind to others when we feel like they aren't being kind to us."

He sighed and said, "Yeah, it is."

This was good. We were off to a great start. Let's dig deeper!

I said, "Maybe next time before we hang out with your cousins, we can pray and ask God to help us be kind at all times."

I felt a puff of accomplishment in my spirit. I was utilizing what I was using in the parenting class and it was working!! Until....

Finn says, "I'm not praying. If you pray I'm closing my ears and not listening."

Well, he may as well have taken a dagger to my mommy heart. Absolutely nothing on this earth means more to me than my faith and the hope that my children will share the same faith. It triggered a big old emotional reaction in me.

"Finn Matthew, why would you say that?! That hurts my heart! I am so disappointed in you."

Suddenly what could have been a Level 3 incidence between us escalated to a Level 8. Not because of Finn; Finn is a child and a 4 year old who loves to push buttons sometimes. This one was all on me.

I allowed myself to get so worked up that by the time I got home and told Matt about it, I was actually in tears. My mommy heart felt broken and like a total failure....again.

By the time an hour or so had passed, my brain caught up with my heart and the guilt began to rise.

The next day, still baffled, I asked my sister what she would have done in that situation. She responded, "Well, I probably would have said that sometimes I don't feel like praying either..."

Oh yeah. Duh. That's simple enough. If only I had to been slow to respond (James 1:19).

My children are absolutely not going to come to a relationship with Jesus because I guilt them into it by saying I'm disappointed in them when they don't feel like praying.

No manipulation, no coercion, no willing it to happen will help my children believe that Jesus loves them and wants relationship with them. It may lead them close for a moment, but will ultimately push them away.

Finn and I let the discussion on prayer cool for a couple of weeks. The most I said to him was that prayers don't have to be long and complicated. I told him that one of my favorite prayers was simply, "Help, God."

Yesterday he surprised me.

He had gone outside to wait for some friends that were coming over to our house. When Jonas and I walked outside to join him, he says to me,

"Mommy I was talking to God."

My heart grew 3 sizes, like the Grinch.

"Oh yeah," I tried not to seem too excited, "what were you saying to God?"

"I was praying for the dead mouse (in our window well) and the dead bird (on the street)"

My sweet son was praying, from his own heart, about something that truly matters to him. 

It was a reminder to me that God can touch my son's heart without my help. I don't need to strong arm my faith into him. Sometimes, mommies need to get out of the way so that their children can cultivate their own relationship with God.

Pray. Lead by example. Love with everything I have. Talk about God's goodness and faithfulness.

And then?

Release the reins and get out of the way!