As a mama, how do I approach scripture?

I must admit, when I hear Christians use scripture in debate with atheists or agnostics, I cringe. I feel like I can see the other person stop listening.

Clearly the authority of scripture is a cornerstone of the Christian faith, but engaging with our world means understanding that not everyone recognizes that authority and may see it as silly-from-the-Dark-Ages circular reasoning.

Anyway, this post is not about that. This post recognizes all of those differences, but lands on the fact that I do hold scripture in an extremely high place in my heart and home. So reader, if you do not, this post is not for you.

But as a Christian mama, why should I make it a priority to study scripture and teach it to my children? Shouldn't it just be a private thing between God and me? Shouldn't I let them decide what they will believe on their own as they grow and mature?

After all, we wouldn't want to be these frightening parents...

As with everything, we must seek the balance. If I staunchly require James to read his Bible before he's allowed to eat breakfast, there's a problem. However, if he witnesses Jim and me reading and singing scripture because we find joy and comfort and truth in it, that is better - - and much closer to scripture, I believe. I want to teach him that we don't read scripture to know a book (and certainly not to model behaviors of a number of Old Testament characters) but to better know a Person. 

But how then will he call on him if he has not believed? And how will he believe if he doesn't hear? And how will he hear if his Mama doesn't tell him???*

So I will tell him. 

Broadly at first, with great resources like the Jesus Storybook Bible, wherein "every story whispers His name." Showing him the whole arch of the redemptive story, how it all fits together and points to Jesus. And with our wonderful Fellowship Kids ministry who so beautifully partners with us in simple monthly memory verses and activities. And as he grows, we can dive in more deeply, learning together what this great and mysterious book means to us. 

All that said, even if I were to choose to force scripture down his throat OR be more passive in hopes that he'll "catch" it, it doesn't matter. It's not up to me. I can do the best job within my knowledge and capacity as his mama and he could still grow up and curse God. And if that's the case, I will still utterly love him because I was loved. For while I was cursing and lying and giving myself away, God loved me. 

But perhaps one day - and I pray that it's so - James and Anna will meet the God of this book. Perhaps they will be given eyes to see and ears to hear how this God was Jesus and came to us and died and killed death and was alive again.  

And while it will be my greatest joy, the glory will not be mine.

(*Rom. 10:14, my words)  

The rain is gone...

After a straight week of frigid, gloomy, soggy, grey outside, our backyard is now drenched in almost white sunlight. Not a single cloud. An utter downpour of yellow.

I love being at home; a homebody. My body likes being at home.

But why, after only a few days that held a scant number of short errands or meetings that required us to venture out into the wet, are we itching to go? Cooped up. Cabin fever. Get me outta here.

Living room floor exercising or running the laps in pursuit of the squealing, delight-shrieking 3-year-old  is not enough. We need to go somewhere and do something.

A trip to the grocery store sounds like Disneyland.

We were not made to be sedentary. We need room and purpose and light and connection. Dark, cold, and closed makes us turn in on ourselves and sink deeper. That's why we sleep when it's like that. It's really one of the only profitable things to do then. Bears got it right.

Now, I love a good rain for repose. An opportunity to slow and snuggle. But the light brings uncoiling. Stretching and reaching. Let's go do something. Accomplish and breath faster.

And it makes me remember that we are to be "giving thanks to the Father...who has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of this beloved Son..."

And to look forward to the kingdom of light that is coming where there will be no need for a massive burning star because all the light will come from him.

Just from him. There, we will need no sun.

The age of fears.

Tucking in my boy...

James: Mommy, who's in heaven?

Me (carefully): Well, there are angels and God is there and --

James interrupts: No, like Ulku's daddy. (My friend whose father has passed away)

Me: Yes, people that have died are in heaven, too.

James: ... I don't want to go to heaven ...

Me: That's ok, buddy. It's going to wonderful and happy and fun there, but you don't have to think about that for a long, long time.

James: But I want to be here with you. In our house!  For a long, long time.

Me: I'll always be with you, buddy. Always, always.

James (grins): Always!


Jim and I have been trying to be aware of the age of fears (usually from 3-5 years old). Not allowing scary stuff on TV, even seemingly benign "tickle monsters" and the like. But a lot of the fearfulness, I'm finding, is simply James learning about the world around him. And the world is scary.

The lack of light at night is scary.

The reason we have to wear seat belts is scary. (Another one that was hard to explain.)

The other reasons that we have policemen, apart from the simple "they're here to help!"

The thought of dying is scary.

So as his questions are going deeper, my answers have to be truthful. And I can't pretend for him any longer that there are people who don't follow the laws. Or that car accidents happen every day.

This is hard, you guys! Of course I don't go all unabridged into every subject; it must still be age appropriate, but he's not satisfied with the comfy answers that I could provide even just a few months ago.

Older moms have told me that as your children get older, it's less physically demanding and much more emotionally and mentally taxing. Uh, yea! And he's not even four.

Praying for grace and wisdom as I try to impart the same to my babes...

In this particular moment

...I'm grateful for both babes taking their afternoon naps at the same time,

for the month of December in all of its flurry and happiness,

for friends that push me toward Jesus,

for family that encourages and loves me unconditionally,

for this cup of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows in it,

for The Lord of the Rings extended edition DVD set that we're borrowing from our friends that will give us at least a week of home date nights,

for tough situations in my life that make me pray,

and for the internet where I can share this gratitude with others.

Very revealing...

Anna is now a little over 2 months old. We are beginning to sleep on a somewhat normal schedule, helping me regain a little of what I remember as lucidity.

In these moments of healthier-sleep-induced-awareness, I've been able to reflect upon some things about myself. Some ugly things. Some very stinky, rotten things.

Having a newborn is a great way to reveal your true self, if you really want to see it. The parts of you that you tuck away for no one to see, ever. The monster that comes out when every back and arm muscle is aching and it's 2:30 am and she. won't. eat. but would rather scream right in my ear as I bounce and pace and cry right along with her. (I'm pretty sure every mama has been in that moment.)

Dare I say it, I think those nights are behind us for now. They went so quickly. Why was I so short-tempered? Yes, I know I was sleep-deprived, healing from labor, with a cocktail of post-partum hormones coursing through me... but somehow I hoped that I'd be stronger. That I was a seasoned veteran. Puh! Yeah, right.

Instead, I'm only reminded of the VERY thin layer of Sara Control. I can make it look good for a little bit, but when life pushes back against me, I crumple. My patience is weak and short. My idea of the depths of despair would be a day in the park to some. My point of hopelessness is laughable.

And the ugliest part that I saw was that I turn to myself for help.

Instead of laying my unattractive heart down to be washed and renewed in repentance, I picked it up myself and poured another cup of fix-it coffee.

On the other end of the first 8 weeks of another human's life (some of the most catch-your-breath beautiful and yet frustrating moments), I'm reminded again of His silent long-suffering.

Of His endless patience with my fussiness.

That He went deeper into any depths of despair that I could ever imagine, and came out the other side victorious.

And that He is hope. 



... linking up with GraceLaced today!
  

Anna's Story

So here's how it happened;

How she happened, this little angel beauty:

Contractions had been teasing me for weeks, organizing for an hour at 8-10 minutes apart, then tapering off.  Tuesday night, we had a birthday supper with our friends and I diced a 1/3 of a hot chili pepper into my taco salad, hoping to move things along. I woke up the next morning with contractions 5 minutes apart and told Jim he should stay home from work. 

But, no dice. They slowed down to 20 min apart and off to work he went. 

We went to bed Wednesday night around 10 pm. I slept soundly until 1:24 am when all of the sudden a rope of contraction wound around my middle. Another one 5 minutes later and then they continued for about 45 minutes. I woke up Jim, ate some waffles, and drank a glass of milk. He encouraged me to lie back down to try to rest. 

Sure enough, back to 7-10 min apart, but this time I felt like they were here to stay. I couldn't find a comfortable position. Side lying was excruciating - only standing or all fours was bearable and I couldn't really rest in those positions. Jim pulled a chair up to the bed so I could sit and rest the top half of my body on a few pillows. This was perfect. I could actually relax through the contractions and then almost fall completely asleep between them. 

At 5:00 am my water broke and contractions came consistently between 4 and 5 minutes apart. After calling our precious Barb to come stay with James and loading up the car, we quit timing them and just drove. I was so excited and pumped with adrenaline and hormones, I couldn't stop shaking almost the whole ride to the hospital. 

We checked in and had to start out in a triage room (apparently October 4 is a popular birthday). My nurse checked my progress and said, "Huh..." I was expecting 4 cm at the most. We whooped and hollered when she said 7 cm! 

She said, "We'll go ahead and call Dr. Stafford." 

"For me?" 

"Yeah," she said, "this is going to go pretty fast."

Sure enough, I went to use the restroom, and the next contraction made me want to bear down and push. The nurse heard me and yelled, "Don't you have that baby in the toilet!"

The next little bit went so quickly. I made it back to the bed, Dr. Stafford was there along with 4 other nurses, all ready to apparently catch my baby girl. I was still in shock - surely it couldn't be time yet. After about 5 or 6 sets of pushing, Anna emerged, warm and smooth. She snuggled quietly on my chest (after yelling for a bit about the nasal aspirator) for the longest time. Absolute heavenly bliss.

Jim was our champion, rubbing my back and legs and cheering me on through the pushing. One of the sweetest moments was when he held Anna for the first time. He leaned against the wall, slid down on the floor, curled his arms and shoulders around her and said, "You can have whatever you want." 

I watched my husband fall in love with another girl right before my eyes. And it was beautiful.

We are having a sweet and uneventful recovery period, reveling in the love and generosity of friends and family. James came to the hospital and was so precious with Anna. After being very concerned with all my hospital bracelets and saline port, he gave Anna hugs and kisses and then hopped down on the floor to play with his rocket ship. Pretty standard 3-year-old behavior :) 

My dear friend Mandy flew on the wings of the morning and met us at the hospital to take pictures during the labor. I was SO thankful for this gift. These are images that would have otherwise quickly become fuzzy in my memory. She says the lighting was tough to work with but I think they turned out beautifully. (Click to view them in an enlarged album)

Just arrived and excited!

 The Man, Dr. Stafford

 Helping me relax

Time to push!

This was the moment she was laid on my chest and Jim was hugging me. Love.

Crying as I watched them together for the first time. With my warm blankets and Jell-O of course.

6 lbs 15 oz, 18" long, born at 7:11 am

We are so very thankful for answered prayers. For a quick and safe delivery and for a most amazing and beautiful baby girl. 

Baby-Anna-in-my-tummy update

I'm at the beginning of my 37th week. I'm waddling. My belly feels heavier and lower every day. I can't speak more than a paragraph without needing to gasp for oxygen. I make "ugh" sounds when I sit down or stand up. I feel her moving, but somersaults have been replaced with just kicks and stretches - she's running out of room. I dream about her face.

Two appointments ago, my belly measured 4 weeks behind. I've been measuring small, but it had been over a month since my previous visit and still not much growth. My never-alarmist-wonderful Dr. Stafford suggested an ultrasound and I agreed. A week later, the ultrasound confirmed the peace that God had eventually given me - she was perfectly fine, my placenta was doing its job, plenty of fluid, plenty of baby (estimated weight, 5.3 lbs). October 4 is still a good due date for reference. Reference, mind you, not expectations.  :)

I feel at times that I'm one big Braxton Hicks contraction. I stay hydrated and fed but I still have them aaaall the time. Nighttime frequently brings some real contractions - one night even for a solid hour, 8 minutes apart. This is reminiscent of James' birth, too. A few weeks of random contractions and then, whoopee! my water broke and he came pretty quickly. I'd love a similar birth to James', but I know her's must be and will be different. Just so ready to experience it!

It's a tough place to be - knowing that she could potentially come at any time and yet chances are we still have a few weeks. I'm trying to soak up these moments with James, lingering during tuck-in bedtimes, snuggling just a while longer, reading just a few more books.

And I'm ready to meet my daughter.