Sunday Thoughts: Behold Your Little Ones

This morning, as I was reading the words of Christ in the scriptures, I read the phrase "Behold Your Little Ones." And couldn't help but feel like my heart was about to explode. A handful of experiences over these last few weeks have reminded me over and over that these little ones are so capable. Their light is so needed in this world. And as much as I think they need things a certain way, I often learn how much more they can handle, how ready they are to be stretched, and how they truly know how to serve and connect with others. 

One of those moments happened a few Sunday mornings ago.

I could hear her footsteps as she came down the stairs. Eager and excited for Sunday, she kept her typical routine of being the first one awake. She entered the kitchen with her beaming smile and energy, ready to take on the day. But first, breakfast.

Since it was the first Sunday of the month, I was fasting, and reminded her that I'd be happy to get her something to eat, but that her older brother and sister had joined the fasting club for the month.

We started Fasting Club when Max was big enough to start learning the principle of fasting - I had read about it from another deliberate mother a few months prior, and recalled it from my mind on a whim one morning as I was grumbling to myself about all the food I needed to get out for the girls, while simultaneously watching a boy who looked about as sad as could be as he entered the kitchen. I didn't want a spirit of sadness surrounding this principle, and realized that both he and I could use a little "fun" in the process. "Bud," I said, "Do you want to be in the Fasting Club with dad and I?" The light in his eyes - excitement, energy and enthusiasm to do something his sisters wouldn't yet be part of was enough to shift his energy from sad to excited. "Yes!" He jumped as he said the words. 

And so it began. I didn't really even know what our "club" was - but soon realized it didn't need much. The "club" has evolved into a handful of simple actions - chatting about fast Sunday and a focus the night before. The morning of, I'll write a note and leave it at the stairs - a simple invitation to join the fasting club - no pressure - but a helpful reminder for them as they typically roll right into breakfast. Sometimes I'll put a specific scripture on there for them to study before getting ready, and sometimes it's more general to let them guide their own study. 

At least with the older two, entrance to the club has began right around the age of 8. I'd love to say we have grand conversations, or that we do special scripture study together, but in reality, most of what we say and do is in-between the hair-styling and car-driving on the way to church. Because in reality, I'm juggling that part solo as Mike is serving in a variety of capacities that use that window of time prior to church. I used to beat myself up that I couldn't seem to "get it together" enough to carve out time just with them to all sit together while the little ones slept or played quietly on their own (ha!), but then I realized that embracing the chaos, flowing with the mornings, giving them opportunities to strengthen their personal spirits, and then circling up together in those pockets that we had was absolutely enough.

Back to the kitchen earlier this month as Tayler came downstairs.

"Mom. I'm ready. I want to join Fasting Club today."

Surprised, I looked at her for a moment, really digesting what she'd just offered up. "You know that means no breakfast, and you wouldn't be eating until later today, right?" 

"Yep. I'm ready."

I'd love to say that in this moment I faithfully agreed with her, believing that she had the capacity to start something "big," but in honesty, I doubted. I paused, hesitated and really thought about maybe pushing her toward eating breakfast and waiting for when she was older and more "capable."

Yet, in that pause, I looked at her. She had so much light in her eyes. This girl was far more capable than was giving her credit for. She knew what she was asking to do. She'd seen it in the examples of her siblings month after month. And this daughter of God was striving. Striving to become something bigger that day. Who was I to take that from her?

So she jumped in. I let her add her signature to the paper at the top of the stairs.

Fast forward to church that morning, when she then leaned over to me and said "mom, I want to go up and bear my testimony today. Think I can do it?"

This surprised me even more than our first request. Typically, this gal is happily coloring while the speakers chat, and on fast Sunday, when members of the congregation voluntarily go up and share their thoughts on Jesus Christ.

Again I paused. Thankfully, I was reminded of the earlier internal conversation, and I again looked into her eyes and saw the eagerness and light.  As much as I wanted to say that she hadn't thought of what to say, or that she wouldn't know what to do, or that she simply wasn't "enough" the thought came to mind: Who am I to take this experience from her?

And so she went. Mike happily went up with her, and helped her get the stool so she'd be tall enough to see over the pulpit.

And then he sat down.

Her face was so full of light, genuine love, and her six-year old eyes had a look of nerves as she saw the congregation for the first time from that perspective. For a moment, I thought she'd smile, freeze up and back away, but she didn't.

With a shake in her voice, she shared sincere genuine truths about Jesus Christ, serving and loving others. 

Tears swelled in my eyes, as my heart was ready to burst.

The Spirit reminded me in these moments that my role as their mother, as much as it is full of directing, guiding, above all it is to NURTURE.

To teach them how to grow on their own.

To let them stretch beyond where they are now.

To create spaces and opportunities for them to dig into their roots, and stand strong in the winds of life.

To nourish them with love, truth and light.

These last few weeks have really reminded me how much I have to learn from them - how much I can "behold" from them - and what the gift of Christmas is truly about.

16

I have much to catch up on with our adventures this summer, but I must take a moment to write a few thoughts while they are fresh on my mind.

Today, Mike and I celebrate our 16th wedding anniversary and have known one another for over 18 years.

This past weekend we were able to spend a big portion of our time with the youth ages 14-18 from our church. Admittedly, Mike was just coming back from being out of town, and prior to that the kids and I had just gotten back in town from our summer trip to Utah (more on that later), and there was part of us hoping for a quiet weekend. But the bigger part of us knew that spending time doing things that fulfill others ultimately fulfills and strengthens us and so we embraced it. Mike was there for the entire conference and was able to hang out and connect with a group of awesome youth. Funny enough, on his first night there, he looked across the room and recognized one of the youth from our Nebraska congregation! It turns out he and his brother were attending conference while in town visiting some family friends. What a small world!

I had been asked to help out with the planning, prep and serving of the food. My main meal was on Saturday afternoon and it was a "prep" meal for the etiquette dinner they were planning to have that night. It was a 5 course lunch - where the youth practiced and learned the ropes for the upcoming dinner. And while part of me had been hoping for an "easy" lunch like deli sandwiches, chips and a cookie, I learned a ton in the planning process of a five course meal, and was super grateful for all those who stepped in to help prep the food! We had salad, rolls, tomato soup (made from scratch by a dear friend who was happy to take on this task!), grilled cheese sandwiches, green beans and brownies. All of the food was meant to be practiced with proper cutting and handling of a fork, spoon and knife, and was meant to be simple. The trickiest part of the meal was that everything needed to be prepared ahead of time and kept warm. But, thanks to lots of great ideas from folks, a whole bunch of crockpots and prepping ahead of time, it went off without a hitch!

As we finished loading the car and I was leaving to pick up the kiddos (who'd been playing at a friends home while we were at the conference), Mike was headed back over to continue serving the capacity he'd been asked. And while I was tired and ready to head home, I couldn't help but pause with gratitude as I looked around.

I find if I am still and listen, nature - specifically trees - seem to speak with wisdom. The shapes, the sounds, the unique characteristics of each one connect to life in so many ways. I love how trees differ in the regions of the county we've been able to live. Since moving to South Florida, I find myself captivated by the big trees and wonder at what intense tropical storms and hurricanes they have survived. Oh the stories they must hold.

Which brings be back to the parking lot. As Mike was walking away, he was parallel to these beautiful Oaks. Moss and small plants growing throughout them, full of shade, and green with life. The parking lot was built around them in order for them to maintain their natural state and beauty. They stood so tall and clustered together in a way that clearly strengthened the whole. Standing under them, you could feel a noticeable temperature drop from the strong Florida summer sun, and the sound of the leaves as the coastal winds softly blew was calming for the whole soul.

In that moment I had a profound connection. So simple, yet it brought tears of gratitude and clarity to my eyes.

I soaked in the beauty of these oaks - the life they have seen pass around them, the strength of their roots to stand tall against the forces of winds, how they continually reached upward toward the light that strengthens them, how they give what they can to benefit the world around them, how their small and simple actions have compounded over time to represent lasting growth, how they are always growing but never seemed rushed and stand still with the present moment - and I saw Mike and our equal partnership in the same light.

Don't get me wrong. I am fully aware that Mike and I are not trees.

May our children know that the principles and wisdom in that moment reminded me of what we strive for in our marriage and commitment to one another - to lean into one another, to lean into and trust God and His plan beyond our own. This path has brought us much more strength and joy than ever trying to stand alone. We have felt the light of Christ strengthen our marriage in ways that simply could not have happened on our own. We are full of weaknesses, but know fully that together, with Christ, we are stronger. As we've embarked on challenges and unexpected changes that life brings - we've chosen to dig into our roots, to grow where were stand, and it's something we hope and strive to continue. To prioritize and focus on lasting growth and let go of what no longer serves us. To create space for learning and expanding our roots or branches. To mend what's broken. To connect and work together. May our children know that it's the small and simple actions where we grow and learn from the most.

Standing in the parking lot, and in the days since, I've felt an abundance of gratitude for walking this journey and adventure with Mike. It was no coincidence that a secretary to a men's college basketball coach and a basketball player would be brought together. Our journey together has been an adventure where we've strengthened our roots together as we've moved through four states, one foreign country and the times and seasons of four children in our home and countless other experiences. May our children remember that as we strive to focus on what matters most more than what matters much. And seeing the beauty of these trees gave me confidence that for Mike and I, our now small trees will continue to grow and expand in ways we've yet to imagine.

To an eternal abundance of learning and growth together - Happy Anniversary, hon.

Principles of Truth: Forgiveness

Sometimes you're standing in the kitchen and you hear a noise that you really don't want to hear. Sunday night, at the end of a fantastic Mother's Day, I heard one of those sounds.

A reeaallly large crash. Followed by an "uh oh."

I've learned, through loads of error, that it doesn't help to react in the situation. And I've also learned, that in order to respond, I must allow myself a moment to breathe before discovering the noise. As there were no hysterical screams or cries for immediate help, I knew this crash was fully object- related and no human being was damaged in the process. So I took full advantage of a few breaths before rounding the corner.

As I made the turn, I found my most favorite painting in a jumble on the floor. The frame was smashed and in pieces on the floor, and a child-who-will-not-be-named was wide-eyed with sorrow. It had been a complete accident. This favorite image rested on top of a heavily used bookcase, and unknowingly, the bookcase had shifted away from the wall just enough that a vibration from the doors closing a bit too hard knocked the picture to the ground.

This kiddo was crushed. She knew how much I loved that picture (I reference it often), and felt like this action might be unforgivable.

But of course it was.

Later that night, well after we'd put everyone down for bed, this kiddo came downstairs to discover I was trying to figure out how to fix what had been broken. At the time I hadn't found a solution, and needed to think on it.

And then this kiddo said, "are you sure you forgive me?"

And I said, "of course I do. Things are things. What matters most is you."

Then this kiddo burst into more tears, needed more hugs, and I realized a small teaching moment. This kiddo was buried in feelings that I can relate to in so many ways - negative self-talk. Shame. Perfectionism. The feeling that she wasn't enough. The worry that forgiveness eventually runs out.

The truth is, I'd forgiven this kiddo before I even left the kitchen.

But she needed to be heard. Her worries needed to be spoken. Her concerns needed to be validated back into truth. The process created space in her mind for truth. To let go of beating herself up for doing something "wrong" and to realize the journey of life isn't about "not making mistakes."  Because we all will. The real journey is in how we respond. What we choose to do. Where we choose to look. How we choose to move forward.

Our simple little chat about forgiving ourselves was the first principle of truth. And here's where the real beauty of this moment came in. The picture that had been broken was this one:

The One who is always there.
Hand outstretched and ready to lift us where we stand.
Always willing to forgive.
All we need to do is look up and ask.

Beautiful.

The frame is glued and is back in it's proper spot as a central image in our home. Full of so much more meaning than it ever had before.