It's a Case of Monkey See, Monkey Do

 One of the "monkeys"

I was giving him what for.  He was 5 years old and should have known better.  I didn't have time to deal with such childishness.  Next time he had better think before he pulled some crazy stunt like that again.

My finger was wagging as fast as my tongue.  I was on a roll giving this little blond-haired, blue eyed bundle of mischief a piece of my mind.

And that's when I looked down.

Standing right in front of me, so close she was on my toes, was my 2 year old daughter, wagging her little finger and mouthing my words right after me.  She put her hands on her hips, she leaned in toward her brother and she let him have it.

I began to reprimand her for being mean to her brother when I realized she wasn't being mean...she was being ME!

It's a strange phenomena.  These little people with whom we reside day in and day out quite often sound just like us.  And usually what they say and do is the "us" we aren't all that fond of.

When they are little, it is cute and funny {sometimes}, but as our children grow, they catch more of the things we'd rather they didn't catch.  This can be a sobering lesson.  One you  must be willing to learn.

Several years back I read The Heart of Anger by Lou Priolo.  The very first thing he does when he has an angry child come into his office is to interview his parents.  He asks them to take a hard look at themselves.  Did the anger start with them?

Maybe it's not an angry child you are dealing with...maybe it is an apathetic or lazy or complaining child.  Not that every personality trait we see in our children is something we've directly contributed to...they ARE unique individuals...but it merits serious reflection on our own attitudes and behaviors.

Monkey see, monkey do...whether we like it or not.

Husbands and Wives - What We Share

A year ago, I was in the throes of birthing our 6th child.  It was an emotional time for us as a couple.  Less than a year earlier we had watched our 5th child die, now we were moments from her younger brother being born.  2008 held misery.  The early morning hours of 2009 held healing.  We had come full circle, living through both extreme grief and extreme joy.

A few months after the death of our daughter and a few months into my pregnancy with our son, I had a dream.  It was one of those chaotic early pregnancy dreams.  I wanted to divorce my husband and marry another.  However, when I looked at this man, my real husband, who shared the memories of the birth and the death of my precious little Emily, I knew I could never walk away from him.  The worst day of my life was the worst day of his life.  I awoke from that dream in tears.

A husband and wife share not only a bed, but life events.  His pain is my pain.  His joy is my joy.  The babies I've birthed have been his babies too.  And the child I buried, he buried as well.

It is easy to get caught up in our differences.  It is easy to proclaim, "He just doesn't understand me!"  It is easy to see everything from our own point of view and ignore the fact that circumstances that affect us affect our husbands as well.  The financial strains, the wayward child, the too-small house are all circumstances that each member of the family must deal with in their own way.  It is part of our story.  It is a section of the path the Lord has set before us.

I walk this road with my husband at my side.  Sometimes we are holding hands and all seems sun-shiny.  Other times he feels a million miles away and I trudge along, feeling sad and alone.  Yet when I glance over at him, I am able to see someone who knows the same joy and the same pain I know.  He knows the bliss of being the first pair of human hands to hold his child.  He knows the hot tears and heaving sobs of grief.  We share too much to break from the path and go our separate ways.

This post appeared At The Well on 12/31/09

Where Was I a Year Ago?

Find out today At The Well:

pssssst....HERE is a hint!

Discretion - At The Well

Join me At The Well today to continue our discussion from Friday...

“to be discreet”

Titus 2:5a

Beginnings

There are bits of cucumber and tomato that never quite make it into the salad. The kitchen floor is lightly dusted with flour. She's asked about a million times if she can lick the spoon and I'm pretty sure she did when I wasn't looking. She is four and she is standing on a stool next to me, eager to do the very things I tire of doing day in and day out.

You see, the kitchen is a difficult place for me. I've even gone so far as to call it the "bane of my existence." It is a needy, never-ending mess of pots and pans and last night's dinner. In fact, I'd rather be anywhere other than my kitchen.

Yet, despite its blatant lack of counter space and 50 year old appliances that won't break so I can get new ones, it holds a certain charm to my little daughter. She is a M.I.T. (Mommy In Training) and she knows the kitchen is Mommy's domain.

So how is it the one room in the house that is almost entirely mine happens to be the one room I dislike the most?

I've toyed with the idea of sprucing it up with paint and pictures, adding touches of fancy to make it more pleasing to the eye, but deep down I know aesthetics aren't the issue. It's attitude. Mine, to be exact.

When I look at the kitchen I see messes to be cleaned. When my daughter looks at the kitchen she sees an amazing place where individual foods become an entire meal right before her eyes.

I see the end, she sees the beginning.

It would do me good to adopt her view of things. Instead of seeing a scummy blender, I should see the blessing of not having to bother with cleaning it before making smoothies in the morning. Instead of seeing a dirty skillet, I should see the potential of a clean skillet for browning meat for tomorrow's lunch. Instead of seeing a cluttered countertop, I should see a stunning (albeit small) workspace for rolling out a pie for company this weekend. I should see the beginnings rather than the ends.

In fact, I should see a wonderful beginning when my daughter crawls up next to me on that little kitchen stool. What she learns from me is the beginning of her journey to womanhood. Every time she stirs the batter, shreds the lettuce, or salts the meat, she is learning. She is also learning when she sees me sigh at the mess before me or when I slam a cabinet door in frustration or when I am short with her because I just don't have the time to play a round of 20 Questions. Is that the beginning I want for her?

The only thing I have with my children are beginnings. What is sown today will take years to bring to fruition. In fact, I may never know the full impact of the beginnings I share with my children.

So, what matters here and now is that I take my life's calling as wife and mother seriously; that I set about diligently to be someone worth emulating; that I remember all my daily tasks are to be done as unto the Lord. I have to stop fussing and fretting over the ends of things and start preparing for the beginnings. And when my little daughter slides that stool across the floor and climbs up next to me, I should see things from her perspective...a beautiful beginning.

This Post was featured At the Well:

At The Well

I am so very pleased (ok, "ecstatic" might be a better word!!!) to be joining the At The Well team of writers! Please take a moment to visit the site, read through the articles, and sign up for their wonderfully encouraging emails on a variety of topics all pertaining to growing into the model of the Titus 2 woman.

(If you care to, you can read my bio HERE.)

Also, each Monday, At The Well hosts a discussion topic that bloggers can join in on:
http://www.titus2atthewell.com/2005/01/gathering-at-well-topic-and-discussion.html

Why not join us At The Well?

"Quiet" Time

Blurry Memories of a Coffee

Once upon a time I got up every morning at 6:30 am, made myself a mug of gourmet coffee, and sat on my front porch reading my Bible. It was a time when I could sit alone in the quiet of nature and drink in the day. Within the hour, my two children would wake up and my day as a single parent would begin (this was during the time my husband was deployed); these early morning hours were precious to me.

Somewhere amidst moves to homes without front porches and babies being born every year or so, I ceased to partake of this morning coffee and Bible time. Lately, I've longed to reclaim something resembling what I used to enjoy...(however, I'm thinking I would enjoy it much more if it wasn't at 6:30! Yes, I know some of you are up MUCH earlier than that...have mercy on this night owl!)

I used to be one of those moms who beat herself up over the gradual loss of early morning quiet time, especially considering I *used* to do it (someone forgot to mention to me that back then I only had 2 children and they weren't either of them babies). I was just sure the Lord required a perfect offering of

me,
alone,
early in the morning,
reading His Word
and praying...

yet, I could never manage ALL those factors ALL at the same time. I was just sure this qualified me as a bona fide failure.

Recently, my friend Cis and I were discussing this very issue. She had been reading Passionate Housewives Desperate For God by Jennie Chancey & Stacy McDonald and had come across the chapter entitled "Weary Women". The following quote is exactly what has become of my "quiet time":

"I'll let you in on a little secret. I don't have a personal quiet time every morning that is actually quiet or alone, nor do I know anyone with more than two children who does."

You see, quiet time has evolved into something more befitting a mother of 5 earthly arrows. My Bible reading is done with nearly everyone in tow. We all pray together several times a day. I still have coffee, but my littles sneak their fair share of it. And, you guessed it, I'm not up at 6:30 (at least not on purpose!)

I do believe the Lord deserves our first fruits. However, I also believe He owns ALL our fruits and every little thing I do throughout the day is (or should be) an offering to Him. And because He has given me these arrows to raise, I am also in a position that naturally brings about multi-tasking...not only am I getting "quiet" time with God, but my children see His importance in my life every step of the way.

There is a hymn entitled Little Is Much When God is in It that has become my theme song. The second verse of this hymn says:

Does the place you're called to labor seem so small and little known? It is great if God is in it, and he'll not forget His own.
Little is much when God is in it! Labor not for wealth or fame. There's a crown and you can win it, if you go in Jesus' name.

There is not some secret formula involving coffee, a study Bible, and a front porch that makes quiet time more legitimate than what I currently enjoy...

me,
all the kiddos,
mid-morning,
reading from one of the children's Bibles,
listening to and offering my own personal prayers.

Perfect!