Labels: MOPS Convention, MOPS events, MOPS International, mothering
Shoes- Check. (Let's hope I did better than last year in this arena)
Black pants- Check (after 6 days of searching every store in Michigan for pants that don't make me look like a buffalo in drag from behind..) (well thats only kind of a CHECK...I finally gave up looking in the three-way mirrors.. funny how little I mind my backside if I don't LOOK at it...)
527 tops of which, I will wear exactly: 5. Check (I never know what I'll FEEL like wearing- so I need to bring options.. I need to wear my purple MOPS Polo when "on duty" so the actual times for wearing my "options" will be minimal...)
Laptop and enough electronic cords, chargers and devices to power a third world country- Check. (a girl's got to stay connected for pete's sake.)
Knitting that I know I will have no time to work on- check. (ok- so MAYBE on the plane...)
Name tag- Check (For once I didn't even have to look for it.. someone told me to keep it on the fridge with the magnetic backing- works like a charm!)
Breakfast bars and instant coffee (gross- I know) in case of dire caffeine and calorie emergency- check. (I might pick up some chocolate covered espresso beans to replace the instant coffee-- starbucks has them- the calories would be worth the taste and caffeine:)
Shemergency kit- cause it should have everything I may have forgotten- Check.
My To Do list is shrinking - and my excitement is growing ... I wonder what it will be like? I wonder what God will say to my heart while I'm there? I wonder what weird things my hair will do in the Dallas heat? I wonder how much laundry will accumulate in my 5 day absense? I wonder how my 4 guys will survive on Banquet Chicken and Velveeta Shells and cheese, and pizza carry-out? I'm about to find out all the answers in T-minus 20 hours... the final countdown has begun!
BIG NEWS! I've been asked to "live blog" from the convention- so if you want to know the scoop and see what MOPS convention is really like- make sure and watch the MOPS International Convention Blog for updates!Dear Lord- I pray that you'd prepare my heart and the hearts of the thousands of Moms who are preparing to come and be refreshed and challenged at MOPS Convention- I pray that you'd be with the MOPS Leadership team- the speakers and families-- Most of all- I pray we see you in everything at convention- I love you lord- amen.
My hands trembled just a bit as I buttoned the pink silk blouse. I felt like a busty- rebel. For a nursing mom- DRY-CLEAN ONLY was not just risky-- it was downright DANGEROUS. (Just how dangerous I was about to find out. The Hard way.) This day was special. I was going to a MOPS event, just over the state line. (A regional event in Toledo- Ohio) I was looking forward to entire day devoted to building up MOM'S. That's ME! It was within driving distance and more importantly, within the range of security for a nursing mom. (Just over an hour from home.) A Mom's day out- a Mom's day of refreshment.. The first since my second child had been born.. I needed it-- BAD. I'd been planning and pumping extra milk for days. But, now? I was nearly ready. Labels: humor, MOPS events, MOPS International, mothering, nursing
I stepped back to take a look at the over-all effect. "Not too bad" I said to myself. Black dress pants.. pumps... pink silk blouse, full make-up AND hair both washed and styled on the same day (*gasp* amazing...I know!). I grinned at myself in the mirror. I double checked that breast-pads were in place and well secured and hidden in my NON-NURSING BRA. (... a bra without flaps-- this was truly a big day out..) I made sure I had an extra set in my purse.
I checked my watch, "Just enough time, for one more nursing before I leave." I grinned at my preparedness. For a nursing mom- "empty before leaving the house" is just as important as for a mom getting a potty-training toddler into the car for a long ride..
I tiptoed into the baby's room sat down in "our" chair and we both enjoyed one more for the road....quiet early morning nursings were some of my favorite times. When we were done- I took him in to a sleepy daddy, I kissed them both.. then went to the kitchen to go over my list one more time.
1) Pumped Milk in freezer- check.
2) Formula and bottles on the counter in case of emergency- check.
3) Diapers- clothes and necessary baby supplies phone numbers and instructions - out and visible so daddy could find them even if he were truly..blind.. check.
4) Cell phone charged and ready.. check. (this was an old school cell phone- about the size and weight of my current laptop.. It's been a while)
I was as ready as possible.
Time to go. I felt a twinge of sadness as I pulled out of the driveway. I headed over to meet my girlfriends - and we drove on together. Guilt and giddiness fought for control of my postpartum emotions as we crossed the state line. Giddiness won. I was out for petes sake!
We arrived on time.. (something rare for a groups of nursing moms) We took our seats- and enjoyed the entire day. There were laughs... there were happy tears as I heard things that reminded me how much I love being a mom... and a few happy tears of relief as learned I wasn't "the only one".
The day offered up everything I'd hoped for, and needed. Fun- encouragement-something to challenege me and make me think, girlfriend time and mommy time. I missed my guys- but was relieved that everything went so well. My check-in calls (oh, probably enough of them billed one minute at a time..to fund the current economic crisis relief plan...) revealed that the frozen milk supply was holding out.. and the diapers were too. Added bonus- I didn't hear crying in the background. (much). SCORE.
When my girlfriend asked if I wanted to stop on the way home to eat... I should have known I was pressing my luck. But- I was having sooo much fun..... and I had everything "covered" with my preparedness...and things were well at home...so I figured, "why not?"
There was one thing I hadn't counted on.. A newborn baby crying at the restaurant.. and the power of milk-let-down on a pink silk blouse. The baby's cry sounded like "Danger, Danger Will Robinson!" But, it was too late. My milk let down like a bad levy.
HELLO. DRY CLEAN ONLY? More like GARBAGE ONLY. There were not enough extra breast pads in North America to soak up that mess. When that tiny baby started to cry-- my Mom-ness kicked into overdrive. In record time- I drenched the entire front of my blouse, which- promptly turned see through. I was now busty- (a bonus to nursing) and see through- OOPSY. Not the look I was going for.
I ran into the bathroom- ""GREAT.. no papertowel" Save the trees, but soak the moms" I thought to myself..I aimed the hand dryer down my blouse in an attempt to dry up the mess.. it didn't exactly work. I made powdered milk. Yuk.I hadn't planned for this. I didn't know what to do... My tears flowed just a little slower than the milk.
The moms I was with, found a sweater for me in someone's bag.. and together- they brought it into the bathroom for me. (Friends, don't let friends, drive soaked.) I slipped it on. It wasn't my sassy pink dry-clean only-- but it was DRY. That's when the silly began. The other moms had all been there- or somewhere like it in the land of Mom...They rolled out breast feeding horror stories that made us all laugh until breasts weren't the only thing at risk of leaking....the bathroom turned into an impromptu MOPS Meeting...
It didn't take long before I felt better. Soggy- but better.
We drove home still laughing.. and talking and giggling... I wondered if my hubby would notice that I had changed my top.. (He didn't,of course.) I arrived home to a hungry baby.. and plenty of milk to feed him. (apparently it doesn't take THAT MUCH milk to soak the front of a silk blouse..)
At the end of the day-- I wondered if it was worth the work..
preplanning- and milk pumping- 10 + hours
writing out instructions and worrying in advance- countless hours..
cost of a trashed clearanced pink silk blouse- $24. (I just couldn't figure out how to explain a breast milk stain the size of Texas)
A day of encouragement, refreshment and connection with other moms?
Priceless.
If you can make it to a MOPS event in your area-- I can't recommend it enough...it's worth the time the expense and the preparation.. a hundred times over... - I also recommend wearing wash n wear.. and maybe a raincoat for a blouse if you're nursing:).... you won't be the only one.. that's for sure:)
PS- if YOU ARE at a MOPS event- or anywhere else for that matter- and see a busty woman in a soaked see-through top---don't hate on her... offer your sweater or jacket to her-- really- she's probably not holding her own wet-t-shirt contest... she's just a nursing mom at the end of a mom's day out....:)
Labels: garbage, humor, mothering, parenting, random domesticity
Shoe boxes, sushi containers, empty coffee cans, paper toweling of nefarious sorts. Empty milk bottles, dirty bamboo chopsticks and a few vaguely-recognizable foodstuffs.
Each object, precariously perched upon the other, a leaning tower of garbage- a haz-mat situation in the kitchen- really- a rousing family game of Garbage Jenga.
What started as a necessary kitchen garbage can, has become a family past-time. Each day's game of Garbage Jenga offers a chance to win. The game grows through out the day, every family member adding to the tower, bit by garbage-y bit. Each one quietly backing away from their last addition, afraid the meer sound of their footsteps could lead to jenga-tastrophe.
The rules of the game are simple: Whom ever placed the last item on the garbage pile prior to it's toppling, is the tortured soul who must: (cue the scary music) TAKE OUT THE TRASH.
It's truly amazing to see the engineering skills employed to reinforce the garbage tower. Please note the turned up edge of the garbage bag that gives just enough additional room in the can for items to be slipped into the sides without adding to the height. (It's the height that gets them-every time.) I have explained countless times- that the energy exerted in reinforcements, arguing (about who's turn it is) and studying garbage tower engineering is considerably more than what would be required to simply TAKE out the TRASH... but alas... they disagree.
And so- each day..the game begins anew. An empty box- coffee grounds, a candy wrapper, a broken toy or *gasp* a pile of old schoolwork at a time...
Just one question? Garbage Jenga- does this count towards our one million minutes of family game time?
I will refrain from describing the argument that ensues over who has to replace the garbage bag with a clean one...or who has to pick up the garbage that inevitably drops off the jenga pile and onto the kitchen floor as it's being bagged.. let's suffice to say it's not a pretty sight. Really- I have no clue why my extremely intelligent family seems to be incapable of taking out the trash without waiting for a trash-alanche or my (loud) complaints.... but there you have it- just another adventure in motherhood, you gotta laugh to survive ;)
I picked my outfits carefully. I matched shoes and bags. I researched and learned the language of the country I was planning to move to. My guidebooks and insider tip books were dogeared, underlined and packed to go. I had learned the history and political environment of my new homeland. The tools necessary for my survival and comfort, were packed. Everything ready, I counted down to my departure. Labels: mothering, random domesticity
Excited, nervous and a little nauseaus, I boarded my (very bumpy flight) and made it to my destination. Exhausted, I waited at baggage check. All I wanted was to get settled in.
Around and around the luggage carrier went- I saw all kinds of luggage passing me by.... suitcases that looked like mine, but weren't. Duffles like those I'd left at home...But not mine. I stood there long after the last bag was gone. Watching.
Normally- I can roll with most punches. My view is- whatever I forget or lose in travel- can be bought/replaced on arrival. (I'll tell you about trying to find a strapless bra in Germany. Let's just say, I don't speak German, but now know: Busten halter. )
But this wasn't just any trip. This was my voyage to Motherhood. Not a vacation- but a serious life move. And when I arrived? All that packing and preparing? Somehow it didn't arrive when I did. After a bumpy pregnancy, I arrived at motherhood exhausted, travel worn and completely unprepared. Like a traveler who packed "heavy" only to find her luggage lost- I was in trouble.
Yes, I'd read the books. (just about all of them, I swear!) I even had experience with children. But none of it prepared me for motherhood. The "insider guides" (all those Mom written and full of wisdom books) left out so much. The "language in 30 minutes a day" (books by professionals who gave me opposing advice in every book) .....well- they didn't cover the universal baby language of crying. (Mine or the babies;)
After a bumpy pregnancy I arrived exhausted, travel worn and busier than I'd ever been, and completely un-prepared.
Luckily- I was met by a welcome wagon. New to the "mothering neighborhood" I found a group- MOPS International, that helped me fill my new life with the skills, tools and support I needed.
Nobody had all the answers... (a few may have thought they did- but that's just part of being Moms) But together--- we figured it out, got through it and grew. Meeting after meeting...year after year... speaker after speaker convention after convention... slowly my suitcase full of preparations was more than replaced.
It even started overflowing. I still don't have all the answers, (Still think I do sometimes... but my kids are quick to point out the truth.) but I don't feel totally unprepared anymore.
Even when change comes- I know I'll have help. Like for the next phase of mothering I'm quickly entering, there are always other women who've been there- done that- and now proudly wear the t-shirt ready to help the next Mom survive! (You can call me multi-tasking/ multi-phase mom... I have one getting ready for college in the fall, and one going to first grade.. as well as a middle child who'd gladly point out that he is listed last....) we are all about change around here...including my entering my *gasp* forties!
I've never been here before--- but other moms have. And- at MOPS....I know I'll be able to pull on them for support through this too!
If you're a mom- and feel like your luggage didn't arrive at mothering when you did..... you're not alone. And you're welcome to come to MOPS, for a cup of coffee, a little encouragement and a bit of suitcase re-packing;)
(MOPS is an International Support group for Mothers of Preschoolers... please stop by the website and find a local group to be involved with!)
Labels: art, mixed-media, mothering
Crayons, pencils, glitter, fabric, papers of all sorts, scissors, staplers, paints, pens.... the supplies, the process, I was in love... with art. From elementary school, art of all sorts was "it".
Art classes were never "missed" not even in high-school.. when, well--- let's just say that "class" was sometimes "optional" between chats and hanging out with my friends;) But art classes? those were never missed.
There were classic "general art classes" with pastels on black construction paper, perspective drawing with pencils and tools, painting with various paints, (tempera to watercolors to acrylic) soft sculpture, sewing, (this was back in the days of home-ec and home arts) architecture and pottery.
Then- there were the "other" fine arts. Music. (violin, guitar and year after year after year of choir) Drama. (Not just the drama between classes either- the real stuff- like playing a wench in "Princess and the Pea" and tiny parts in Fiddler on the Roof and some random play where I had to actually choreograph a "Can-Can" and then dance it.. complete with ruffled skirt!) As a side note...drama- is also where I met my husband, in highschool) Then- there was Dance. (Yes- with a Capital "D" Dance 1, 2 and 3.. all of which I was mediocre in, but loved. Then, Literature. I read ever big fat classic book I could find. And Writing. I still love writing. OIf it was creative. I was there.
Somewhere in my heart- I always knew art would be a part of my life.... but what would be my "medium?" I never could draw with style... Oh- sure- I could recreate "stuff" in pencil so it could be recognized, mostly. If you squint and turn your head just right. I just couldn't find "my thing." But, I sure tried it all.
I always desperately WANTED to sing like a star. (This was the age of "Fame" and I spent WAY too much time spent singing in the basement to my parent 8 tracks then cassettes.... yes- I'm old, get over it) But, I was much more of a "fill the choir rows, second soprano, can hold her part, but not sing solo" type. (However- it took me years to figure that out. (Smart? Maybe.. but quick, I am not) In 1st or 2nd grade I took my "Fisher Price Record player" up in front of the whole school and sang "Jack and Jill" in a talent show.
Violin? We can suffice to say that I was never that "First Chair Girl". Guitar? In 3 or 4th grade I wrote a song (Summer Days, how original) and played it/sang it with my guitar, leg braces (lovely pigeon toed gal, that I was) peeking out from under my long, red and white checked 70's skirt in front of the whole school.... it was awful. And wonderful. I loved it. Even if the rest of the school didn't.
And then, I grew up. Classes had to be paid for. Not skipped. (Well- except for breakfast.. ocassionally) My plans became "realistic." My search went from "From what do you love".. to "what will make money?" (I eventually settled on a husband for that;) Kidding..... Kidding. Classes became "part of the track". Choir was for church, and art? Art was too messy, a waste of time and you know...for nut jobs.
In my early 20's I became a mother. And somehow, along with stretch-marks, morning sickness and poop cleaning skills, art, snuck back into my life. Songs were sung for tiny ears that loved every off-key note. Fresh green peas were steamed and whirled into fingerpaints. I mean dinner. Eventually, the scent of crayolas' came back into my life. Watercolors came out of hiding... afterall... I had to SUPERVISE these activities... didn't I? Music of all forms came back. Music I made, music they made (my 3 boys) and music we shared. (Although I still don't like "Queen", much ... umm... my oldest went through a PHASE... which is motherese for something you hope and pray will END) . It did. They always do.
There was lot's of dancing. Crazy, wild- abandoned dancing to Sesame Street or 80's tunes. Singing of songs we made up and songs we heard. (My husband often is our song writer..."the cheese danish song" is truly, a classic!)
There was art in everything.... on the paper bits in the bottom of my purse, crayons at restaurants, mashed potato sculptures and Lego architecture. Stuffed animals had to be re-molded into their original shapes with a bit of soft sculpture artistry. Somedays even nail-trimming was a feat of artistic ability as I told adventure stories to distract them from the snippers. (Which ,they were sure were really, legal ways for mommys to kill their children.) As a Stay at Home Mom... there has been plenty of art and creativity in meeting the budget. It's amazing how many things one can doodle from all those zero's in a checkbook... especially when they stand alone in little columns.
There has also been glue. Lot's of it. Glue to make things, glue to fix things. Even glue to suture things.. (and stitches too- but not recently- gotta love Derma-Bond!) All the art bases. covered. Daily.
Looking back--- I can see- art never really left my life.... it's always been there.
Mothering... is mixed-media art. Art isn't about perfection, it's not always pretty. It doesn't even have to make sense to others. It is creative, unique. It is a process of discovery experimentation and expression. Art is shared. And so, is mothering. I finally found my media.
Labels: mothering, prayer request, prayers for the military and leaders, Selective service
Vanilla cake with chocolate frosting----Check
Sushi- check (and yuk.)
Quizno's Classic Italian 12" sub-Check
Sobe Energy drink- yellow- check
Salt and vinegar chips- check
(A strange combination for dinner- but the birthday boy's favorites- just the same.)
Birthday presents and cards- Wrapped and ready.
Dinner shared, lights off, candles blown, and cake eaten. Our family tradition of sharing favorite memories of the person being celebrated, was enjoyed by all. All the bases of a birthday have been covered. Or, so I thought.
After the celebrating was over- he announced- "Mom, you know I have to go to the post office" .... *blink, glazed look of confusion on the face of the mother. "Huh? Not NOW? Right?" I was in my comfy sweats- not exactly visit to the post office wear. "No but soon, I have to register for the draft." was his answer. Without thought, my face communicated what my heart was feeling. My husband and sons looked at me like I was crazy. (not the first time)
"You knew that" Was their reply. I suppose- somewhere in my brain that information was stored. But, it was stuffed in the back stored somewhere under: "things I don't have to think about." Until now. As a woman- turning 18 meant being able to vote- the ability to get into bars/clubs.... but register for the draft? Not so much.
Sure, we don't have a draft. But, we're at war. Every single day, husbands, sons and brothers, mothers enlist and are called on to serve and yes- to even fight.
Regardless of your political viewpoint, in honor of my boys birthday- and in honor of all the men/women serving or left behind-will you pray with me for them and for our nations leaders?
"Dear Lord- Today, I see the boy you entrusted into our care- become and official "adult." I still see the tiny boy with big eyes behind the 200 lb man who is now in his body. I love him as much as any mother loves her son- I pray that you'd be with him every day, continue to guide his choices and be at work in his life, where ever theat leads.
God for all those mom's, wives- sisters who have loved ones in the service- I pray that you'd be with both them and their loved ones with guidance, love, compassion, protection, healing and peace. I ask you to guide our nations leaders, and I pray for peace and security- two things that you alone can truly give. Amen"
Labels: getting over it, messing up, mothering, parenting, the let's go sho
Everyday-for a week at 3:00, Noah (the youngest) has been dragging a kitchen chair into the livingroom, decorating it- using a pillow for a steering wheel and enjoying his new favorite show- "The Let's Go Show."
Until yesterday. When I broke my own Mom Rules,* along with his heart.
In a flurry of Christmas cleaning.... I pulled the "decorations" off the kitchen chair and tossed them into the trash without a thought. At 2:58, I heard a broken hearted cry coming from the living-room. "My art, my decowations! They're gone!" (still a little speech issue) Tears slid down his face like winter sleet on a window.
This was not the "whiney, bratty" cry. This wasn't even the "I'm so mad at you, I could kick the dog" cry. This, was the truely- broken hearted, cry.
And, it was my fault.
In general- I have a Mom rule.* (Oh- I have lot's of Mom rules- but ,let's focus:) One of my Mom rulesis- to never throw out my kids stuff without their prior knowledge. (I thought I'd already learned this Mom rule- the hard way.) I believe it's better to have the fight up front, than to quietly avoid it and make it much worse later...
This time- I didn't even think about it.
I just threw it out. Why? Because, I was cleaning house. I was getting ready for the holidays. (Yes- it takes this much) I was so focused cleaning- that I totally missed out on what was important to my little guy. I COULD have just taken down the projects and tucked them into a folder. I could have slipped them into the basket on the counter. I could have hung them from any one of 50 magnets on the fridge- just for this purpose. Instead. I dumped them into the trash.
Like I said- I was a good mother when I woke up- for about an hour. Then, I got over it.
We had the "Mom's make mistakes" talk. (Again...sheesh we have that talk a lot) We got the crayons out and set up the printer. Before the "Let's Go Show" was over- a little heart was mending- and the kitchen chair was plastered with new creations.
I knew I was forgiven when he climbed up on the couch, next to me to show me a new picture....made for me. Tears popped into my eyes. I swallowed. HARD. Then smiled.
Being a Mom is like this some days- you wake up the best mom ever- an hour later you're a witch and by dinner time- you're the queen, again. The Circle Of Mom.
Dear Lord- I know- I know we've talked about this so many times before---- but-as we go through the holidays- please help me not break my kids hearts in the name of cleaning and craziness... I love you Lord- and definitely will need your help on this one--- (and every one) amen.
I researched for weeks. I went to every toy-store/baby supply store in Michigan. I carefully examined each possibility. Some looked uncomfortable. Some weren't soft enough. I was Goldilocks in search of the carseat that would be "just right." Our budget was newly-wed/ newly parent tight. I debated the practicality of an infant carseat that would only be usable for a short time. But when compared to the convertible infant toddler seat, there was no further thought needed. The infant seat was cushy, soft and would cradle my baby, not quite as well as my arms, but the seat would be safer, if not as comfy. We bit the budget bullet and ate macaroni and cheese for a month. We bought the cushy, safe seat. Later, we did it again to upgrade to the toddler seat. Finally, we moved our little guy to a booster seat, then the big-boy seat belt, his feet dangling, but not quite reaching the floorboards. I swear it was yesterday. No- yesterday (well a few days since) it was my two oldest climbing into a Mustang convertible (the irony of that being my all time favorite and never ridden in car is not lost on this momma;) with a friend of theirs and heading off to Walmart. There were no carefully chosen carseats. There was no Mom adjusting the seatbelts. Their feet no-longer dangle. They are old enough to drive themselves. My two oldest sons are men now- no longer children. They are good guys. They have level heads on their shoulders. They wear their seatbelts without fuss. They do their homework. (Mostly) They choose their friends well. I am proud. I am glad. I am relieved that they survived fevers, stitches and asthma attacks. I'm glad that I haven't totally "wrecked them". (I suppose the jury is technically still out on that one- but so far-so good;) I like my guys. I like who they are and who they are becoming. We're not picking carseats anymore- we're visiting colleges. Discussing options for career paths, instead of toddler seat versus infant seats. The decisions are no longer mine to make. I have input, but not control. I remember as a young parent, being at the park, or the grocery store, and having a gray haired smiling face lean in close to mine, whispering, "Treasure this time, it goes so fast." I remember praying that I could survive a showerless, un-ending new mom day, and thinking that if one more person told me to treasure it- I would scream. In their face. Later I could plea post-partum. I would thoroughly enjoy it. Before I had the chance to, I must have blinked. When I did, the carseat turned to a convertible. The worst part? I realized all those smiling gray heads were right. The days do seem to crawl- but the years slip by at light speed. I am in an interesting place. I am both a Mother of young adults and a Mom of a Kindergartener. I am not rushing through this one. I know by experience how fast time goes. There is a carseat in the back of my old SUV for my youngest today, but he'll be driving it (probably the same one, I now realize, as we prepare our budget for college expenses!) tomorrow. Left to my own devices, I'd be afraid. I like control. I feel most confident when I have the most control. I had a lot of control in choosing a carseat. I was confident that I had made the safest decision. I have little control or even illusion of control anymore. It should scare me. But- mostly- I'm not. I know- that my guys are in the safest carseat of their lives. They are in God's very own hands. He has a plan for their lives. Sure, it probably includes pain and learning the hard way and sickness and most likely even loss. But by experience- I also know- that whatever "wrecks" or "car accidents" that happen in their lives- He will be there to comfort and to heal. He will be there to guide and direct. He always has been for me. I trust His plan. (Even though I sometimes wish it could be different) Jeremiah 29:11 " For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to Dear Jesus- please help me move through this next phase of mothering- as my guys drive around top-down in convertibles- help me to trust in your plan for them. God- I pray that ypu'd always be close to them as a a carseat- giving them protection, healing them when hurt and drawing them ever closer to your heart. I love you Lord- and thank you for the privilege of being their mom-and cheif car-seat chooser- amen. Labels: carseat, convertibles, letting go, mothering, teens
prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Labels: faith, fear, mothering
She keeps house in a very unlikely place. Tucked into a center island in a grocery store parking lot. I wonder at her housing choice every year. (She's been there every spring- for the last few years.) All around her, SUV's battle over parking places. Shopping carts blow across the lot and ram into curbs and bumpers, like crazy land races, that end in tragedy....or at least in convenience. Dogs bark through cracked car windows... threatening to pounce at their first chance. (Why do people take their dogs to the grocery, then leave them in the car? I do not understand this... but I digress. Again. ) Teenaged boys in orange vests stretch the task of cart gathering into an all day event... even with the advent of motorized cart movers. They always look cold and forlorn.....and mostly bored. Crying children, in grocery cart seats squirm and make a last ditch effort to escape before arriving back at the car. (It's an unwritten code of ehthics for toddlers... like the Marine's "no man left behind".....toddlers chant "No seat contains my behind" in baby talk as they wiggle.) In the middle of this chaos, danger and intrigue....(At least I'm always intrigued by the people who actually leave the store carrying ONE lone item......usually beer or a tiny bag containing- I know not what....I think I am not so much intrigued as maybe jealous of their ability to actually purchase what they intended.... as I typically forget the ONE item most important on my list....;) sits the momma duck , a top her nest.Surrounding her are bits of popcorn and other treats people leave to help support her little family. The momma duck is a mascot of sorts for the store. The employees watch out for her. They share their lunches with her. In a way- I think they love her. She, however- usually fluctuates between a threatening quack and serenely sitting with her eggs safely tucked beneath her and her head tucked under her wing. During weeks like this one- I can relate to the momma duck. When news stories are filled with mass shootings- schools locked down and sad videos of sick people saying sick things....I feel like a momma duck in a parking lot. Danger seems to surround my little brood. I feel like tucking my guys into a safe spot in the middle of the chaos and quacking a warning to keep them safe. The problem is- two of my three "little ducks"are bigger than me. To try to protect them from the world would more than clip their wings.... it would stunt their growth. Then- I also feel a deep peace... A security that comes from trusting God. Like the duck- I fluctuate;) So, what's a mom to do? Gather them up and sit on them?--- Quacking to keep them safe as I smother them with my love? My guys won't tolerate that. Is it possible to rest securely while chaos reigns around us???? I think it is. When I look at the momma duck, with her head resting under her wing... while carts bump and bang and dogs bark, I wonder if she has some deep trusting (or deep birdness that prohibits worry;) that gives her peace. Like I do. (Most of the time;) Although I see the chaos, danger and sadness that surrounds, I also know that I don't control the world. Nor- do I have to. I trust that I do what I can and should do.....and that God will be with us in whatever we face. What we can and should and actually, do-1) Have an emergency contact means and plan- (my teens have cell phones) they know who to call if they see danger brewing. Be aware of your child's school lock-down policy and procedure.2) We talked about what to do if they are concerned about a kid at school.....talk to their guidance counselor or other school official- in private.3) Trust God with the rest.The first two are fairly simple--- the third is harder- it's a process of trusting. The more I experience God- the greater my trust grows. Honestly- it's the hardest things that I've gotten through, that have grown my trust the most. Loss, pain, struggle, grief... while initially negative---have turned into greater faith, because God has brought me (my friends and family) through them. Matthew 28:20"And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." - Jesus ChristMaybe it's like that with the duck--- maybe she can stay in a place of danger- and thrive---- because of the love that is there with her, in it. If a grocery stores employees can care for and love a duck... how much more can God care for and love us? Even in a dangerous and painful world. Dear Lord- I don't pretend to understand all the chaos and pain that fills the world. I pray that you'll be with and comfort all those who have had such loss this week. I pray for the survivors- that you'll give them peace in a fearful situation, I pray for the families that you'll give them comfort in their pain. I pray for the family of the one who cause such pain....God- I pray for mom's everywhere- that feel like ducks nesting in dangerous parking lots--- that you'll grow our trust, make us wise as to what we can and should do.....and give us the peace that you alone can give- regardless of what happens around or to us--- In Jesus Name- amen-
With prayers for the Virginia Tech survivors- families and friends of those lost. 
Knitnana has the button...
