Five-Minute-Friday: Mess

I'm joining Lisa-Jo Baker  for Five-Minute-Friday with the writing prompt: 

Mess...

Legos and Playmobil are splattered across the downstairs floor, sound effects bouncing off of the walls. Another sits calmly, reading in the midst of the action. Math links and Base Ten blocks are scattered over the school room floor, a village is going up. And yet another sits quietly solving two-digit addition problems with Chopin playing in the background.

There are remnants of our day throughout this house and as much as I'd like to keep up on the mess, I'm finding there is a difference between staging and living. Because staging is how we want our life to appear, whereas living is jumping in and creating it. Another day, another hour might look a little different, but active none-the-less–active bodies, active minds, active emotions and I couldn't live this way before.

But this is different. Because I'm right here in the mess with these four children and when you're in it rather than observing it, the mess becomes art–beautiful, creative and peaceful.

We are creating art together in this home, splattering colors and textures of our unique blends.

And as an artist is not put off by messy remnants of his work while splattering paint on a canvas–I cannot be put off by the messy remnants of our ultimate vision.

When we walk into a room noticing only the mess, we miss the masterpiece.

According to Their Bent: 5 Training Points For Boys and Battle Play

Are you a parent who avoids having toy weapons in your home or forbids boys from pointing weapons, shooting at or stabbing one another with swords?

I tried to be that mom with my first son. I did not buy or promote toy weapons. And at about the age of  three, he found a stick that worked well enough as a gun. So I told him to "shoot the lizards" on the ground and not point it at people. And then he was around other little boys, who battle played, and I found myself fighting an uphill battle–myself against the innate behavior of boys.

We have two now. Two boys out of four children and our second boy is just as, if not more, animated than the first with light-sabers, swords, legos, star war figures and playmobil.

He lives and breathes battle play. Our two boys battle each other, cousins, and friends willing to join in battle.

And this kind of play, I've concluded, is healthy.

Because we can't change the make-up of our boys, but we can train them according to their make-up.

There is no doubt that boys were built to be warriors–when they can create their own weapon out of sticks without ever being exposed to one. Therefore, eliminating toy weapons is not the answer. But rather how we train them is key.

Here are five points we use for training our boys in the way of battle play:

1) We teach them what it means to be a hero. 

Heroes fight for something greater than themselves and are willing to give up their own life for the greater good. On a smaller scale, we train our children to put others first and to give up their own comforts for the sake of another.

2) We teach them what it takes to be courageous.

Courage is not simply doing right when it is easy, but rather doing right when it is the most difficult to do. My children are realizing that this is near to impossible without the help of the Holy Spirit. Yes, they must pray for courage.

3) We teach them that they were created to be warriors in a real life spiritual battle.

Ephesians 6:12 tells us that our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. 

The Spirit cannot reside where sin does and so our children, our boys, are faced with this battle every single day. They must choose to gain their strength for this battle from Christ and the Word they have hidden in their hearts. (For more on children fighting a spiritual battle, check out this post: How a Child Crushes a Lie)

4) We read like crazy great books that display courage, heroism, defending the weak, and fighting for good. 

In the face of real life difficulty, our boys have the opportunity to identify with a character in a great story who felt lonely in choosing right, who felt scared in pressing forward and who found courage to act in the face of that fear. 

Why is story so important? Because our children can see the lasting affects of those choices, within the characters they identify with, in which good prevails in the end. (If you're not reading aloud already, check out this post: 8 Reasons to Read Aloud to Your Children)

5) We use our home as training ground. 

The little brothers and younger sisters are examples for looking after and protecting the weak. With my younger boy being only eighteen months older than his younger sister, there are a multitude of opportunities to train his little heart to look after her, to bear with her, and to do what it is right in the face of frustration and difficulty. And I teach this to my daughters, too. 

And they fail time and time again. But that is how they are learning, too. These are the teachable moments. It's up to us to give them that vision of what they're fighting for. (For further reading about giving boys a vision for their future, check out this post: How to Train Our Boys to Be Men At Four)

I see it in differing contexts just how these children do look after one another, in spite of their collision of difficulties at home. Our training is not futile even when it feels like it is. Hearts and minds are being molded for greatness, in the image of God, as we persevere.

When we use battle and warrior-talk in the training of our boys, we're speaking their language. We're penetrating their hearts.

And no doubt, what happens within the hearts of these boys in this home will manifest itself within their world.

So no, we don't take away weapons nor do we train boys against their natural grain. Our boys were created to be warriors! Rather, we train them for the battle so that they have no doubt who they are fighting, why they are fighting and what their battle is worth.

Because some things in life are worth fighting for.

***

Some suggested read aloud books on courage and heroism–just to name a few:

Saint George and the Dragon
Tales of King Arthur and the Round Table
The Children's Book of Heroes
The Wind and the Willows
The Tale of Despereaux
Chronicles of Narnia
Lord of the Rings Series
The Hobbit
Swiss Family Robinson
The Red Wall Series (just embarking on these)
Missionary Stories with the Millers

Also, don't dismiss biographies, life of saints and bible stories of heroes.

What great books can you add to this list? I'd love to know!

Sharing with Imperfect Prose, Coffee for Your Heart, Tell His Story, and Soli Deo Gloria

The One Thing We Need in the Face of Defeat

We’re reading around the breakfast table when defeat shows its face, before we even start our day. The youngest two can’t sit still, so I let them run off and play. They run circles, screaming past us and I can’t hear my own voice. I ask them to keep the volume down or play downstairs, as I finish our short devotion with the older two.

I ask a follow-up question to our reading and I hear grunts and whines and the older two are just as uninterested, so I just shut the book and send them downstairs to get dressed.

And I feel defeat wash over me at the start of our day of the new week.

I look around me and notice that we didn’t even clear our dishes or clean the kitchen before dispersing. We need to pull the house together before we start school–after a fun, long Easter weekend and house guests. And it’s always then–when there is just one more thing on our plate–that I'm faced with defeat that feels like despair, like we’re getting nowhere and like we’ll never get it right.

But that’s a lie. Because more good has come from redemptive moments than I can count. Even when all I can see is momentary defeat. And since giving up is not an option, I offer it back to the One who promises success when I commit these plans to Him.

Each moment is opportunity for a fresh start when we'll accept our own limitations and submit control to Christ.

So I breathe deep and head downstairs to see how they’re doing with getting dressed and ready for the day.

I have a talk with individual children and direct each one, keeping us on track. There’s more grumbling and whining over a certain morning chore and I want to throw a fit myself.

I feel how exhausting and unglamorous parenting really is.

Yet I choose not to take back the control I just offered up, nor grow weary in doing good.

“I always have to fold laundry. I’m not folding laundry!” the oldest one demands.

I feel more defeat over his reluctance, but he has a choice and so I ask him to start with the chore he is willing to do.

He’s folding blankets and throwing them over the couch and chair and I’m pitching in, picking up random toys off the floor.

“I’d mop the floor, mom,” the reluctant one says. "I just really don't want to fold laundry."

“Okay, you can mop instead of folding clothes and it needs to be swept first. The stairs could be vacuumed, too.” I concede.

“Okay,” he says. There is willingness now in his tone.

Soon the children are all working like a well-oiled machine. The house is coming together and I’m realizing, once again, that hope is not lost.

The day plays out peacefully, as the children play together, building a house, a trench and a dam on the dirt hill behind our house, after cleaning. They then come in for lunch, imaginations still active. One writes out the menu, takes orders, and delivers the food that I prepare. School work is accomplished in the afternoon this day and I can’t think of a better day we've had, even with our rough start.

And I realize that more rewarding than children cooperating all of the time, as I expect; more beautiful than first-time obedience and perfectection, is redemption in the lives of my children.

To watch reluctant hearts change. To watch them internally choose to do right. To witness what only Jesus can do in them that I cannot.

It’s the realization of who we are without Christ and who we become with him.

And when I see this happen in each of my children, as I have more over this past year, I recognize the blessing in the difficult moments.

I realize that the difficult moments help us to see our limitations and that we really do need Jesus to succeed and live joyfully. They see it, too.

And what I need more than anything in the face of defeat is the faith to simply trust God with this exhausting and unglamorous work.

Because, although the work of parenting is less than glamorous, the redemptive work is stunningly beautiful.

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9

Sharing with Imperfect Prose, Coffee for Your Heart and Tell His Story

What If We Refused?

"Go hard on me, mom," declares eight-year-old, Robby, as we prepare to play one-on-one soccer in our back yard. I chuckle at his words for I know how much has changed in a few short years.

Just a few years ago I was holding back, running barely behind him as he kicked and darted toward the ball all the way up the yard to score a goal.  On occasion, I enjoyed hassling him, weaseling the ball away just to make him work harder and he'd complain that I was not going easy enough on him.

In just a few short years, he's grown and changed so much. He's more mature, able to control his emotions, and more athletically coordinated. We communicate, relate and laugh together and it wasn't even that long ago I sat up nights nursing and rocking him back to sleep.

One of those mid-nights–within the first week of bringing him home from the hospital–I had nursed him, changed his diaper, and swaddled him snug. When I went to lay him back down, he continued to fuss. As a new mother, I didn't know what to do for him. Weary and exhausted, I remember my anxiety rising that night. I had abruptly flung his blanket back open, re-swaddled him, and brought him close to my chest again. I then breathed deep and like a tide rushing in,  felt wisdom wash over me that would linger throughout my parenting years, not for one but for four children throughout infancy, toddlerhood, and into childhood:

Don't become frustrated, Theresa. This is just a season. You'll never have him this small again. Yes, you will lose sleep. It will be hard. But it will pass. These moments you'll find are gifts. Receive them.

I’ve surely become frustrated over the years, regarding children and sleep. Yet I cannot recall another night that I hovered a sweet infant, feeling frustrated over my sense of helplessness. Not one since that vivid internal monologue. And I've had many sleepless nights and those nights did pass.

I encounter different frustrations and feelings of helplessness now, as a mother in a whole new season of life, and the never ending question remains, how do I choose to contend with those frustrations?

And I wonder if what made a difference eight years ago can make a difference today.

What if we refused? What if we took a deep breath and decided we're not going to let weariness, frustration, and feelings of helplessness overtake our peace. We won't allow those emotions, that so easily creep in, to dictate our behavior. I wonder how it would change our parenting; how we see our children.

Because we'll never have them as small and impressionable as they are right now, ever again. Yes, we will lose sleep over them. It will be hard. But it will pass. What if these moments are gifts, even the hard ones? Will we receive them?

Today he dances with the ball over the winter withered grass, maneuvering fancy feet. He kicks the ball passed me and goes for the goal.

When we choose to see the bigger picture, the greater goal and desired outcome, our frustrations become small. When we accept that it will be hard; that cultivating the lives of our children will take labor, sacrifice, time and perseverance, we may just bounce back quicker when we stumble–because we will.

"Good game, mom. That was fun!" Robby exclaims. "Thanks for playing with me."

And I think I also hear, "Thanks for being patient with me through the years. Thanks for your dedication, perseverance, and for believing in me. Thanks for upholding me with dignity and respect even though I'm smaller than you and dad. Thanks for laughing with me, and for loving me no matter what."

And I think about the little things that never really mattered. And the things that do.

Edited from the archives for Sheridan MOPS Blog
Linking up with Imperfect Prose and Tell His Story

In Which We Nurture Them Into Bloom

Although my days with MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) are passed, I am honored to contribute in a small way to this vital ministry. Therefore, I'm sharing thoughts on Thursdays with our local chapter, on the Sheridan Morning MOPS blog:

Why is it difficult for children to clean their own room or put away the legos they spewed all over the floor? They will pull out every toy on the shelf, but when it’s time to pick up they sit in the middle of the mess paralyzed. I know I, as a new mom, expected my first born to learn responsibility and clean his messes on his own by age five. I don’t know about you, but I needed a reality check!

It is true that our children are capable of small amounts of responsibility at early ages, yet even a seven-year-old can feel defeated in the middle of a mess by herself. So how do we help them succeed? When we lovingly plant a seed in good soil, we give it plenty of sunlight. We water it and even fertilize it. We protect it from the storms. We nurture it. Why? Because we believe that seed will grow into a beautiful blossom.

"Mom, I've got my room clean!" Robby races upstairs to announce before I even have the dishes done from our Saturday morning breakfast.

"Robby, you are on top of it. I’m impressed!" I respond.

He has done this three weeks in a row now and I think I'm beginning to see a little blossom.

He comes toward me with open arms, "Ya." he chuckles, "Remember when I would have so much to clean up that I would just sit in the middle of it and do nothing?"

Yup. Pretty much just a few weeks ago.

"Do you think we expected a little too much of you when we required you to clean your whole room by yourself when you were just four and five years old (my cheek to his)?"

"Yah," he chuckles again.

He's eight and I'm beginning to think around age eight is that season where our children blossom into more independent individuals because, developmentally, they can reason through things much more maturely.  

"Well, we have the pleasure of learning through you, our first born. Otherwise we just don't know sometimes."

It's like God built him specifically for that.

We head downstairs to inspect his work. I enter the spacious room with tracked taupe carpet. "Your room looks great, Robby! Now it just needs to be vacuumed."

"I don't want to vacuum it," his sinful nature chimes in, "I don't like to. You do it."

"Well, you know, I don't really like to vacuum either," I gently retaliate.

"You're right. You have to vacuum the whole house. I'll do it."

I’m proud of his mature and capable response.

The truth is, in the past, we have helped him through cleaning his room on a number of occasions. We've seen that, otherwise, it would not get done in spite of our expectation and strategic tactics for compliance–yet, not without frustration along the way. But we've learned that at four and five, even six and seven, they are not quite capable of all that we may expect them to do on their own–like we’re rushing the seasons.

And if we’re really honest, we expect this because we get overwhelmed and we have our own tasks that take priority and we’re impatient. We've planted the seed and now we want results. Yet, the seed still needs tending to.

Over time, we’ve come to see that emotionally and even socially, the confidence and ability to succeed is built on loving, on-going, side-by-side nurturing and training throughout these formative years.

We do things a little differently with the younger three. We don't just show them how to take on a responsibility and expect them to have it mastered by the second or third try. In the same way, we can't plant a seed, water it a few random times and expect it to thrive. We walk with them through their tasks, their struggles, and their triumphs and give them more and more responsibility and independence as they succeed–naturally, pushing past resistance along the way. We understand they are not perfect and are in continual training while under our roof.

They don't have to have it all mastered by five. really.

So, how do we help them succeed? We walk alongside and nurture them through the formative years.

Like a bud, which opens in time with good soil, the right amount of sunlight, and plenty of moisture, we nurture our children continually into each season of bloom.

You can’t just throw a handful of seeds over the deck and expect a beautiful garden to grow. –Sally Clarkson (paraphrased)

Edited from the Archives 

The Most Important Way to Train Our Children to Serve

Although my days with MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) are passed, I am honored to contribute in any small way I can to this vital ministry. Therefore, I'm sharing thoughts on Thursdays with our local chapter, on the Sheridan Morning MOPS blog, and sharing it here with you:

When our children already have everything; at a time when our children are growing up in a me-­culture; when it is more natural for our children to think of themselves rather than somebody else: we must be intentional about teaching our children to think of others before themselves, to grasp a bigger picture of their world and to serve for the greater good of the world, in which God created them for. 

But where do we start? Although we may love for our children to experience how people live in a third­world country, that is not piratical for the majority of us. 

However, active service is within our reach. Here are three ways to train our children to serve right where they are: 

1. Serve Along Side Community 

At least once or twice a year, we try to organize or participate in a service project with friends or church members. 

We have served at a soup kitchen, myself and all four children with me. The youngest, at two, three or four, were able to put salt and pepper shakers on the tables, set cups out and other small tasks. The older, at five, six or seven, were able to help with the small tasks and serve food. At one point, I had a baby in her infant seat, one on my back and two helping me serve the dessert! 

We have joined a couple of families in putting on a pancake breakfast to raise money to buy a pig for a family in Guatemala. 

We have invited friends to make bracelets for orphans in Russia, through Craft Hope.

We have invited friends to paint sun catchers with us and then took the sun catchers to a local nursing home, to brighten an elderly person's window and day.

2. Serve Your Community

As a family, throughout the summer, we have picked Thursdays to be our "Thoughtful" day or service day. 

We have gone to a nearby park to enjoy a picnic and then pick up trash. 

We've brought a plate of cookies to each of your surrounding neighbors. It can be as simple as writing a letter to a child we sponsor. 

These small deeds make a big impact, not just on the receiving end, but on the heart of our own children! 

However, serving others does not have to be an organized event or happen on a specific day. 

3. Start with Family 

I believe this is the most important way to train our children to serve.

Serving starts with family, right in our home, and practiced everyday. 

We see it when a child holds the door for those of us behind him. We see it when the youngest needs her blankie and one of her siblings jumps up to get it for her. We see it when one chooses to use some birthday money to surprise his siblings with ice cream at the park. We see it in thoughtful words. 

These are the kinds of thoughtful or "service" acts our children may already be doing! And these are the things we can encourage and tangibly train, if our children are not already doing them. 

So if you find yourself dumb­founded over ways to involve your children in serving others, look closer rather than so far out of reach. 

Because we miss the point when we serve others outside the home, but remain self­serving within the home. It starts right here. 

The service our children practice within their homes will manifest itself within our world. 

A child who holds the door for his siblings will hold the door for a stranger. A child who stops what he is doing to help his sister, will stop what he is doing to help someone in need. A child who spends birthday money to surprise his family with ice cream cones learns how it feels to be generous with his money. A child who puts thoughtful words to paper will bless many. 

So, take heart sweet mamas. Training our children to serve is within our reach. We can seek a couple of larger service projects to involve our children in each year, but let's not overlook all the ways we can train our children to serve everyday. You're probably already doing them! 

Edited from the Archives

Just When I Want More

Although my days with MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) are passed, I am honored to contribute in any small way I can to this vital ministry. Therefore, I'm sharing thoughts on Thursdays with our local chapter, on the Sheridan Morning MOPS blog, and sharing it here with you:

As soon as I get a glimmer of hope for setting some goals to pursue an interest, gift or passion, it seems I'm tossed in the throws of parenting deeper than ever. As I doggy paddle my way out of an all­consuming wave for a breath of sanity, I chide myself for even considering the pursuit of something more. As I attempt to carve that little bit of time out, I become divided and frustrated by anything that forces me out of that moment. 

I look at those mothers who seem to successfully juggle their pursuits while toting three, four and six children around and I wonder a little enviously, "how do you do it?" 

Do you ever look around at other women and wonder to yourself, “How do they do it?” 

I’ve found the simple answer to be this: their journey is not your journey. It does no good to compare because 1) you don’t have enough information about that person you’re comparing yourself to and 2) God is writing your story like no one elses, as you trust him. 

Yet don’t we still find ourselves on our tiptoes from time to time, peeking over the horizon, wondering,what next? 

Yet beautiful, longing and capable mamas, the thing facing you head on right now is your life – the parenting of these impressionable, mold­able, growing human hearts. This, God esteems higher than you can imagine on a day­to­day basis.This is your priority, an eternal work. And not just meeting basic needs, but planning, investing, engaging, discipling, training and persevering. 

Tomorrow will worry about itself. Be faithful to today. 

Because every gift – every opportunity that God gives to use for his purpose and glory will always birth from your faithfulness to this here, now, moment. 

Trust that. 

And never underestimate the eternal way he is using you in these moments with the lives he has entrusted you. 

We can't just have what we want when we want it because we don't truly know what is best for us. Because we don't have that grand, eternal perspective. And if we’re honest, because we really only want instant gratification. 

We have to walk this road, faithful to the journey our Creator has laid out for us, trusting in His ways, not our own. 

So yes, I too am guilty of wanting more than I have, at times. And I am going to work out some goals as God works out His plan in me. But like a lot of things I've learned to do in my life, I'll wait upon the Lord, faithful to this moment, because I know His ways and timing are perfect. 

And I'll remember how thankful I am for everything in my life that did not happen my way, in my timing,for the trade off of the abundance beyond measure that I have today. 

And I'll believe that His plans alone are to prosper me and not to harm me, to give me hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11) 

And just when I want more, I realize I have enough.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens. Ecclesiastes 3:1 

Edited from the archives

How To Train Our Boys To Be Men at Four

Although my days with MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) are passed, I am honored to contribute in any small way I can to this vital ministry. Therefore, I'm sharing thoughts on Thursdays with our local chapter, on the Sheridan Morning MOPS blog, and sharing it here with you:

***

"Don't follow me!" is the phrase my four­year­old boy is uttering toward his nearly three­year­old sister, over the past few days and I want him to see differently. 

We don't always know why our children determine to be unkind or even cruel to one another. Who knows where they pick up such thoughts and actions and then mimic them. Or more essential the question, what is at the heart of the behavior? 

As parents, what we know is that we are all selfish by nature and the training of a child is constant in re­framing that mindset and molding their heart toward kindness, consideration and compassion. 

Out of mere helplessness or frustration, we might send our child to a "time­out" for speaking unkind. And although it might stop the behavior, it doesn't get to the heart of our goal for our child to display kindness, consideration and compassion for others. These traits come from the overflow of the heart.

And so it takes thought, prayer, investment and plain ole' creativity
to get to the heart of a child. 

This morning, I give my boy a little pep­talk on being kind to his sister and he seems to understand. However, as the morning settles into routine, he starts in on telling his sister not to follow him or play with him again. 

So I walk over to him and remind him, "Remember our talk this morning?" 

A little grimace and a humph. I continue. 

"I need you to treat your sister like she is a gift from God to our family because, do you know what? When you let her follow you, sit with you and play with you, you practice what it takes to be a good man, a good husband and a good daddy when you grow up."

His little head makes the slightest tilt, like his inner­ear instantly perks up. 

And then they play.

And they play all day without any further correction. 

I can't tell you exactly why, but I have a hunch that in spite of our selfishness, there is this innate longing to be all that we were created to be. This is the heart of the child that we have the great responsibility and privilege to invest in, till and water, as parents. 

It's a lot of these little moments that show our boys what we expect of them and what we believe for them. It may not be the same words or circumstances for every child. There is no formula. 

It's just finding ways to give them a vision for their future. 

Edited  from the Archives

On the Gift of Belonging

She sits tall at the table for Saturday morning breakfast – the morning feast we have once a week in the dining room. She watches her five-year-old brother make silly gestures, as he finds his place across from her. She smirks at him and says, "You're so silly, Drew," then looks over at me with that approving smile in her eye. Her sister walks into the room and she offers her the chair her sister sits in every week, next to her. She looks my way through the corner of her eye and tilt of her head, with that approving smile, once again.

This is a girl who had a good night sleep, but also a girl who has a strong sense of belonging.

This is a girl who knows her name – who reprimanded anyone who called her "honey" or "sweetie" or said she was beautiful at the age of two. "I not honey. I MADELINE."

This is a girl who confided in me the night before that she was going to grow up to be a great leader, like Moses.

She's three – one of the most impressionable, at times difficult, yet beautiful stages.

Isn't this what family was designed for? To be that warm place of belonging, where love is constant and unconditional. A place of security that allows them to know who they are – to dream, spread their wings, fail and try again.

Family is where it starts. 

And for every year that our children grow, they need that strong sense of belonging. They need that sense of, this is who we are: the Millers (insert your last name). Everyone else may approach life that way, but we approach it this way. The next family may not have the Saturday morning breakfast feast as their tradition, but we do.

The traditions we create and the love we generate infuse belonging into each of our children's lives. 

Yet that is not where it ends.

Everything we offer this life is only a means to the end. Family provides that sense of belonging that gives our children the desire and confidence to impact the world; the belonging that perpetuates a sense of their own identity. If we miss family as our priority, we've missed the mark completely.

Because their sense of belonging in this temporary home is only a shadow of their belonging to a heavenly home – to their Heavenly Father, who knows them by name.

This child, who is three, is far from perfect. She climbs over tables and counters, she throws books and toys when she get mad, she tests me.

Yet, she doesn't need to be perfect to belong. I know who she is. Her temper and defiance do not define her. She is a child of God and that is how I treat her – through discipline, by grace.

This is how we step in as Jesus to our children. We stand between their sin and who God created them to be – by grace. We step in so they can discover the miracle of Jesus for themselves through our example.

And it is when they can say, I am a child of God. This is who I am. I know where I belong – it is then they will understand the true means to the end for which they were purposed.

Sharing with Finding Heaven and Imperfect Prose

In Which Grace is Found

Although my days with MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) are passed, I am honored to contribute in any small way I can to this vital ministry. Therefore, I'm sharing thoughts on Thursdays with our local chapter, on the Sheridan Morning MOPS blog, and sharing it here with you:

With my cheek sunken into the pillow, I jolt from my sleep to the sound of her cry. My thoughts will the sound to stop. My eyelids fall shut again. It seems they just gave way to the weight of the day and the book that lies beside me. I hear it again, my body is tense and I haven't been woken like this in months. I've gotten used to calculating my days down to the hour, where I finally have time to breathe, rest and refuel.

I lie and wonder if she is just searching for that comfortable position like she does, or if something is really wrong? She didn't have a fever all day and the doctor said her ears were just fine.

I lie their stiff, waiting, not wanting to fully wake up and I think about those cuspid teeth I suspected were coming in earlier. I relax a little. Then I hear it again and throw back the blankets. I creep into her room and adjust the light to see her sitting up, hand over her ear again, or is it her cheek?

I  gently pick her up, reach for the Tylenol and sit with her after I give her a dose. She straddles my waist with her head pressed against my chest. I had forgotten how wonderful the weight of her felt in the wee hours of the morning. Within minutes I hear her breathing heavy again and I think about lying her back down. But the weight of her pressed against me holds me back and I just hold her.

I close my eyes, arms wrapping her frame. I feel her weight and I'm thankful for the disturbance of my rest and for the weight of the day that I traded for the weight of her, and I remember, that this is where grace is found...always in the un-calculated moments.

Edited version from the archives.