Author: joyouschild

Lego Land Mines

joyouschild Griefwork, Persevering through Pain, Raising Kids Alone , ,

I have four sons.  That means I have 4 x 1,000,000 Legos in my house.

They are everywhere.  I have a real bone to pick with the Lego people who package up 5 little plastic men with some other random pieces of plastic and charge me $50 for it!  In order to get the precious figures, we add another hundred Legos to the house.  Over and over again.  Each birthday, Christmas, and mad money day.

Don’t get me wrong.  There are hours of fun and creativity in those little pieces of plastic.  Even the big ones still play with them, and it is often a common ground with the little ones, something they can all play where the big ones aren’t too bored (unlike Candy Land).

But there is a down side to Legos.  They are excruciatingly painful when you step on them.

Of course, they are all supposed to be picked up before the boys go to bed.  I try to do a sweep myself as well so that when I come down for my quiet time, I don’t impale myself on one.  But it occasionally still happens.  And boy, does it hurt!

Grief is like that.

Like the Legos on the floor of my house, I occasionally trip on my grief and have the searing pain of the loss all over again.  All I can do is sit there and wrap my arms around myself for a minute until the pain passes.

I have been through many of my “firsts,”  I am not even talking about the firsts you know you will have–first Christmas, first birthday, first Easter, etc.  There are a lot more firsts you never think of until you step on them–first time mowing the lawn, first tax season, first car repair, first trip to the ER, first call to poison control (I have made three since Keith died–yep, three).

The pesky Legos of the firsts also have another flavor, wrapped in the candy wrapper of the good things in life, the ones I really wish I could share with Keith–first baptism, first lost tooth, first words read, first vacation, first soccer goal–on and on.  And there are more on the horizon–first time driving a car, first girlfriend, first graduation, first wedding, first grandchild…

You never realize how many firsts there are in life until you face them alone, trying to respond to them as two people would.

But here’s the cool thing.  There is a Friend who sticks closer than a brother, who is there for all my firsts, all those moments when the pain is so excruciating I think I will never walk again.  Just like I comfort my little guys when they happen to step on a piece of plastic, Jesus comforts me each time I step on a first.  He is there, there, there!

And He always will be.  That’s a promise.

He will wipe every tear from their eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain…  – Revelation 21:4a

God Showed Up

joyouschild Raising Kids Alone, Trusting the Father , ,

This was my past Sunday morning:

5:00 a.m. – Get up for quiet time (only chance I get at it – thank you, Beth Moore, for sharing it with me!)
5:30 a.m. – Tanner wakes up (fell back asleep on the couch – thank You, Lord); I keep reading, checking emails, getting out stuff for company later in the day, doing prep work for food to be served
6:00 a.m. – Tanner starts asking for breakfast – over and over and over; I keep putting him off and continue doing reading and my own morning chores
6:30 a.m. – Make and serve breakfast; try to do a family devotion; stop and explain to kids again why you don’t talk when Mom is talking or fight with your brother at the table
6:45 a.m. – Finish housecleaning for company after church (yes, we were the ones running the vacuum that early)
7:15 a.m. – Matthew asks if I can “come upstairs for a minute”; come up to find a dead hamster and a crying boy (Dang it!  RIP, Sandy!  No time to bury you now!); hold crying boy
7:30 a.m. – Pick out clothes for the little boys; fuss at everyone to start their morning chores; hurriedly get into the shower so we are not late for church
8:00 a.m. – Brush my teeth while opening my blinds and I see that my car door is OPEN
8:01 a.m. – Pray the car battery is not dead; send the children out to close the door
8:10 a.m. – Three children come in from shutting car door, armed with baseball bats (they were afraid someone had broken into the car and they were going to have to chase them out); they also found Tanner’s bike down the street where they had left it last night (did I mention in rained overnight — big, wake-you-up thunderstorms?)
8:15 a.m. – Take bats away from children (that was probably a given in your minds, but am including it anyway); give a lecture about stewardship and helping Mom out around the house; continue putting on makeup; fix 4 boys’ hair for church (yep, even Alex needed it this week)
8:20 a.m. –  Finish my own hair and makeup, fuss at everyone to pick up stuff to take to church, turn off lights, and take the dogs out
8:25 a.m. – Remind children not to talk loudly outside because not everyone gets up for church as early as we do
8:30 a.m. – Finally pull out of the driveway 15 minutes late; pray we make it on time to start our morning routine at church (I have something to stuff in the bulletin, as usual, and have to get everyone checked into their classes and be ready to greet)

Whew!  I am tired again, just writing that all down.

Here is the crux of the hardest thing as a single mom:  I have no one to share this with.  We got to church and no one knew of the craziness we had at home before we came, the accomplishment that the car was not wet inside–and that it started, that we made it on time anyway, and that I did not really lose my temper through all this (only a bit).

No one but God.

He knew.  And being the loving, gracious Father that He is, He sent a messenger to me with some strength for the day.  Here is an email I got later that evening from my dear friend Shari, far away and knowing nothing of my day:

Hi – hope the weekend went well.  I just wanted to write and encourage you …. you are doing a great job.  I’m sure it must be exhausting and frustrating, but as I was watching some single parents recently I was reminded of how you are stepping up to the challenge and allowing God to help you, rather than just saying – oh, it’s too hard, so I will give up.  Keep up the great work!!!  Don’t give up – love you bunches.
 
Thank You, Lord!
And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus. – Philippians 4:19

Seasons of Soccer

joyouschild Grace Again and Again, Raising Kids Alone , ,

Single mom raising a passle of boys = a hair-raising (or should I say hair-graying) experience!

Especially in the area of sports.

But God provides, sometimes in ways I don’t expect, but I can certainly glory in.

Alex’s second soccer season, he had a coach named Scott who had a daughter a bit younger than Alex on the team.  He was a great coach–nice, good with the kids, the right amount of praising them and driving them.

We were blessed when two seasons later, Matthew had the same coach.

Right after that season, Keith died.

I called one of the moms on the team to tell her.  Keith had been sick and in the hospital during part of the season, so they were somewhat in touch with what was going on.  This mom took it upon herself to call the whole team.

Imagine my surprise when, right with the family, Scott walked into the funeral home for the viewing.  I was gratified that he chose to come and express his sympathy, but what he did next quite literally floored me.

He sat down, prepared to stay the whole length of the viewing, and talked sports with my big boys.  Just talked.

Since then, this family, mostly Scott, has become a part of our lives, showing up just when my boys need them.

The next spring, Scott showed up between his kids’ games to watch Alex play.  Matthew, wanting to get his attention, went over and started talking to him.  Then another adult came to talk to Scott.  Scott had the conversation with the adult, but kept him arm around Matthew for like twenty minutes.  Matthew gloried in the male attention.  I thanked God for His provision (and asked Him when he was going to fill that dad spot, but that is another story).

Later that same season, Matthew scored his first goal.  I was in the car with the little ones at the time, avoiding a drizzle.  Alex ran back to the car to tell me Matthew had scored, and I was bummed that I had missed it.  Once again, however, God provided.  Scott happened to be again between games and saw it and was able to whoop and holler for him.

Fast forward a few seasons until Jackson starts playing soccer.  We were blessed once again to have Scott be our coach.  More time for him to speak into my kids’ lives.

Jackson did not score his first goal that season, but when he did a season later, it was against the team Scott was coaching, and even though he was the opposing coach, Scott hugged my son and told him what a great job he did.  He also witnessed Jackson’s second goal (again, I missed it, being on the field with another son–story of my life).

(I have told Scott several times that I wish they had four kids so that there could be one Tanner’s age that he could coach as well.)

Do you notice a theme here?  God providing through a precious family, a precious man, who just loves on my kids when he gets a chance.  He takes the opportunity when it is presented to him, and God has used that mightily to comfort my boys, to strengthen them, to fill in part of that missing “dad” piece.

Here is the part that amazes me.  This is not a believing family.  (My boys here want me to say…NOT YET!)  God is using someone who is not even on board with His general plan to speak so mightily into the lives of my boys.

Provision, my friends, provision!

The LORD remembers us and will bless us – Psalm 115:12a

What’s a Cross?

joyouschild Griefwork, Persevering through Pain, The Power of the Witness, Widow Walk , ,

Recently my dear friend Judi asked me if I felt losing Keith was my cross to bear.

Here is the long and short of my answer…it’s not a cross, it’s a blessing.

About 4 weeks after Keith died, a dear friend who is a fellow widow called the place we are in “a privilege.”  Now, at that point in my journey, Keith had been gone just a bit of time and Christmas was around the corner.  I was not feeling privilege, I can tell you.

But I did remember; I did ponder those words.

For years.

I gotta be honest.  Some days stink.  It is really hard to be a single mom.  Some days, even now, I ache for Keith’s arms around me.

But, yes, I believe it.  It is privilege.

Joy in the journey.

God is there.  At night.  When I have tough decisions to make.  Raising the boys.  When hard stuff happens.  When good stuff happens.  When I am hurt.  When I am happy.  When I am scared.  When I am confident.

The boys have learned things about the provision of God, the sovereignty of God, the love of God that Keith and I could not have taught them together.  They know that they know that they know.  They have seen and tasted that the Lord is good.

I have gotten to see God work in the lives of people simply because He gave me this great need and the foresight to let them in to help.

I have gotten to cry with others on this journey, knowing what they are feeling.  And also to laugh with them.

I have grown and changed…a butterfly out of a cocoon, able now to go different places than I could go before.

I know my Lord better…closer…dearer.

And that changes my whole perspective.

I have always thought of the cross as a place of pain and suffering, and it certainly was that.

But…maybe…it was also a place of joy because Christ knew that through it, the redemption of the world would happen.  He could see beyond the moments to the big picture.

I don’t compare my suffering to that of Christ in any way, shape, or form.  That would be pure arrogance.

But the changes wrought in me…and I do mean wrought…have made a difference.  And in that I can glory.

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.- Romans 8:18

Groaning

joyouschild Faithwalk, Persevering through Pain , ,

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.– Romans 8:22-23

Even as I write this, a dear friend is in labor.  She is waiting, expectantly and anxiously, for Baby #3 to make his/her appearance.  Water broken, hard labor not started yet, she is in a holding pattern and has been since last evening.  Nothing to do but wait, watch, and pray.

I am there, too.  Certainly with this sweet sister, as all night I kept waking and dreaming of her, praying for her well being and that of my coming “niece” or “nephew.”

But also in my own life.

I wait, not too patiently at times, for the things of my life to work themselves out, to be born in me and my family.

I long to be the creature I was created to be–me, but different.  Not so sinful, more patient, more loving, more focused on God instead of me.

I want to see the bigger picture, know how to lead my family on the path God has laid out for us.  Sometimes I feel like I am right there, hiking along as I should be over the rough terrain; other times I feel lost in the weeds, tripping over little rocks.  I hasten to what I think is the right way to go, but forget to look where I am going, forget to take all the steps necessary to get there, forget to follow my Guide.

Other times, circumstances totally beyond my control have me laboring.  The world steps in, clouding my vision in the rainstorms of life.  Well-meaning people, and not-so-well-meaning, provide distraction and confusion.  I stumble, I fall.

But I get back up.

Like my sweet friend who cannot escape her labor pains right this minute, I cannot escape mine.  Nor would I want to.

I eagerly await the temporary prizes and successes here on earth…many that are quite meaningful for a season.

But even more, I look toward my forever-prize in eternity.

Labor is hard, but I know that with that first cry, the first look at that sweet little face, it will be all worth it for my dear sister.

With my first cry of hallelujah before my Lord, so will mine.

Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.- Philippians 3:14-15

Of Puzzle Pieces and Memories

joyouschild Faith Community, Joy in the Journey, The Power of the Witness, Widow Walk , ,

A few weeks before Keith died, our preacher, Mike, preached a sermon involving puzzle pieces and wholeness in the body of Christ.  It touched Keith deeply.  He set his puzzle piece on the makeshift desk he had on the main floor.  It was constantly in view during the last weeks of his life.

We buried that puzzle piece in the time capsule we created for him.

I have thought of that puzzle piece often over the past 4 1/2 years, nearly every time I find a stray piece around the house.  Keith still thought of himself as a viable piece of the body, even as an ill man, weak and at home.  And he was.

Even in death, my faithful husband was, and is, a piece of the puzzle.  There are still the fingerprints of his work at our church, and at his office.  And definitely here at home, in us.  I am a better mother, daughter, and child of God from having been married to this Godly man.

Since Keith’s passing I have often thought of my own contribution as a puzzle piece.  How do I “fit” now that he is not here?  My puzzle is jumbled and I can’t seem to find where the edges meet.

I don’t fit as a wife any more.
Yet I am an important part of the puzzle.
I don’t fit in the couples’ gatherings any more.
Yet I am an important piece in the puzzle.
I don’t fit with the women talking about the husbands (or complaining about them).
Yet I am an important part of the puzzle.
I don’t fit in at boy scout meetings or with the soccer coaches.
Yet I am an important part of the puzzle.

When doing a large puzzle, if I have trouble finding where a piece goes, I try turning it, looking in a new section of the puzzle.  That is what I need to do with this new life.  I may not fit in the old places where the puzzle piece went, but I need to find new ones.

And the cool thing is that the Master of the Puzzle will give me insight as to where that is.

Here is the lesson I take from Keith’s life:  puzzle pieces have a purpose, they complete things.  If I neglect to add my piece to the puzzle, it is incomplete, not what it was intended to be.

I can’t help but think of my own contribution as a puzzle piece.  Can God’s fingerprints be seen as clearly on me?  I pray so!

I also think about the Puzzle Piece of Eternity, our Risen Lord.

By His death, we are healed.  By His stripes, we can forgo ours.  By His love, we have eternity waiting.  Praise Him for His indescribable gift!

Drippy Romances and Dreams

joyouschild Loving Again, Trusting the Father , ,

I read Christian romances.  There, I said it.  They give me…hope.

Sometimes they give me life lessons as well, all wrapped up in a cover and characters.

Tonight I was reading about a romance and these words skittered from the page into my heart:  ” …but I realize that in the Lord all things are perfected.  So when things aren’t humanly perfect, we can give them to God who’ll make them better.”  (Gail Gaymer Martin, Loving Care, 2004, Steeple Hill Books)

As a wife who had a pretty “perfect” life, I have been afraid of the future.  Afraid of not finding perfection if there is time #2.  Afraid of comparing, of trusting, of losing again, of making a mistake, of so many things.  I trust God, but do I trust me?

I guess the message for me in these lines was that as long as I trust God, and follow Him, I can trust me.  He loves me and my kids more than I love me and my kids.

If there is another real-life romance in my world, I need to remember that it will not be perfect, and neither will the guy.  He can’t be.  But God can and is.

And in His perfection, I can stand.  I can be scared, but can move on, knowing that He’s got it.

As I mentally prepare for my first date in this millennium (some of you are saying, “’bout time!”), I can honestly say that as scared as I am to try, I am equally scared not to.

Praise God that He has got my back…and my heart…for this whole tumultuous ride!

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. – Proverbs 3:5-6

Out of the Mouths of Babes…

joyouschild Persevering through Pain, The Storms of Life, Trusting the Father ,

I want to dance in the lion’s den!  I want to dance in the lion’s den!  I want to dance in the lion’s den! — Tanner, age 4 1/2, singing at the top of his lungs

It isn’t surprising, really.  I have been studying Daniel in my weekly Bible study.  We had Daniel in our school curriculum.  And the boys have been learning about Daniel in Sunday School.  I am not sure what triggered Tanner’s song, but he was gustily singing it for several minutes.

Because of all this emphasis on Daniel in our house lately, I have been thinking a lot about the lion’s den.

I have often felt like I am there.  Single parenting stinks some days.  Having grief as my companion stinks some days.  Having all the household chores and the running people to and fro from soccer to guitar to AWANA to play dates stinks some days.

But am I in the lions’ den, really?

Daniel, an eighty year old man, was looking into the teeth of lions as he was tossed downward.  He knew if he followed God he was going there — down into a pit full of hungry lions.

Even so, he did not waver in his devotion to God.

Can I say the same about me?

Some days, sure.  I am “in the zone” and can say that God and I could tackle anything life could throw at me.  Bring it on!  My God is bigger!

Some days, not so much.

I am burdened by the things of this life in a way that I don’t want to be — and that God doesn’t want me to be.

How do I let go of that?  How do I stay so focused that I am not scared, even when looking at teeth and claws on the way down?

Lesson from a four-year old:  dance!

Sometimes that means turning on the praise music and actually turning about the room.  The boys are often right there with me, and we sing and twirl and act goofy until we all are breathless and laughing, happy to be serving our God again.

Sometimes it means reading Psalms quietly in my room and dancing in my mind.

Sometimes, I admit, it means picturing myself twirling in Keith’s arms again.  That one usually makes me smile as well, because, as great a guy as he was, the man could not dance.

Sometimes it means putting my feet on my Father’s, holding on tight and dreaming of some day.  When I was a girl, these dances with my earthly dad had me dreaming of being a grown-up lady and dancing with a groom.  Now, I dream of a different Groom, and that dancing will be glorious.

Now the lions don’t look so bad; the drop down the hole does not look so deep.

Not bad theology, kid!  Keep it up!

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. — Hebrews 12:2-3

Good Pictures?!

joyouschild Raising Kids Alone , ,

There are times when the prevailing thought in my head is, “I wish I could talk to Keith about this…..”

When I was having a stressful day with the boys, my 9-1-1 call to him always started, “Do you have good pictures of the children?!”

He would take a few minutes to talk to me, even if things were hairy at work, and would “talk me down.”

Hmmm…in this one, he is making a funny face…Well, he has gotten so much older this one doesn’t really look like him any more…This one is missing the dimple (that would be if it was Matthew)…Well…Hmmm…I think you better keep him alive…I don’t have any good pictures of him.

(Lest you think I was serious, this would be a figurative killing of the child, not literal.)

By the time the conversation was done, I would go from a stressed-out, heavy-breathing mom to a somewhat rational human being again.

But, I don’t have that any more.  I have to deal with my frustration, my anger, my stress…on my own.

Well, not really.

You know what I do now?  I have a similar conversation with God.  Right out loud.  I speak out in frustration, fear, anger, stress, from any and every emotion that I feel.  God is big enough to handle it.  I don’t blame Him (usually)…I just claim the emotions.

You what I have found?  Then I can more easily let them go.  God will respond to me in my spirit similarly to how Keith would have if he was here.

Today, for instance, in talking with God I told Him, “It’s never about me!”  His response?  In my spirit I felt Him say, jokingly, “It’s always about you!  Your worries, your fears, your stresses.”  It was not condemnation that I felt, but love and acceptance of me and confirmation that this is the place He wanted me to go — big picture with the loss of Keith, and smaller picture with these conversations with Him.

And, just like my conversations with Keith, I am back to the somewhat rational human being again.

Only now I have some food for thought about making it all about me….

Following the Fire

joyouschild Faithwalk, Grace Again and Again, Trusting the Father , ,

By day the Lord went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, SO THEY COULD TRAVEL DAY OR NIGHT.  – Exodus 13:21 (emphasis mine)

Reading today the second half of this verse struck my eye.  It seems that the Israelites traveled day and night.  Imagine!  A million people! Small children and pregnant women!  Surly teens and overworked parents!  Day and night!  Makes me weary just thinking about it!

But God was there.

He may not have saved them from the work — He could have, but He didn’t.

He had His purposes for them to have to work hard for their freedom.  I imagine it had to do with trust of God.  If things were easy for them, they would not have to trust God so fully.  They could have escaped in their own strength, and not have had to work to become the devoted, obedient believers they were in the process of becoming.

How much like the Israelites I am!  I need constant reminders of God’s love, my own pillar of fire!

And God graciously provides!  He is always, always, always there.  He is always leading me, whether I am traveling light — or with the baggage of a thousand sad days, a thousand bad choices, a thousand moments of uncertainty — or a thousand-pound bad attitude.

He doesn’t promise the journey will be easy, but He promises to be there.

Just as God led the Israelites day and night, He will lead me…if I let Him.

But the people You redeemed, You led in merciful love; You guided them under your protection to Your holy pasture.  –  Exodus 15:13 (The Message)