The Back to School Gift To Give Yourself

I can feel it. Lazy mornings are down to a handful. Unstructured days are going extinct. The shaking ceilings and echoing voices in the house will be quieted next week- once again, the kids are going back to school.

Last week, I found myself going from content at the fun we've had this summer to miserable. In tears. Unmotivated. Why? Well, I remembered all the stuff I intended to do to, with, and for the kids once school got out. I remembered the first day of vacation thinking that the next 10 weeks or so were my oyster. I had seemingly all the time in the world to beef the kids up on their math skills, reading skills, and people skills. I envisioned them being more prepared than boy (or girl) scouts at a Camporee to take on the school year with unwavering confidence. I was already patting myself on the back for coming up with such lofty goals. And then summer came.

The challenge of screen time reared its ugly head. I was caught up in having a few moments to myself to get stuff done in peace, and time escaped. I would print out  the math worksheets or flash cards and would be met with groans, weeping, wailing and the gnashing of teeth. I would get library books and although the older kids loved the series they began, the younger two either complained that the books I chose were too hard, or not hard enough. And when I wasn't up to doing adult, I became lazy. I tried. And tried. And tried. I realized that those goals I had were lofty, but if I tried to measure success in the acquisition of 4 perfectly cultured and educated robots, then I had failed. Epically.

What do you do as a Mom when you look back at this summer with regrets? What if the kids you thought you would have at summer's end don't quite look like the kids you have? Life is a mixed bag. Which means that even if you look back and see regrets, there are good things to see as well.

In my case, I look back and see the one on one's I've had with the kids. I got to really enjoy who they are growing up to be. There have been moments of robust laughter. When life felt like helium instead of lead. And we laughed till we cried. There were big victories relationally, like when I saw three of them weep at their brother being left behind from a camping trip because he had a high fever. Or when they self boycotted a video game because they noticed that they often fought when they played it. There were splashes in the ocean and toads caught in the creek. There was ice cream for dinner, and spontaneous jam sessions in the van. There was... Fun.

Can I shoot straight with you? I think that along with the Ticonderoga pencils and new shoes, there's a gift that you need to get yourself. It won't affect your bottom line, but it will affect how you feel when you hit rock bottom. Are you ready?

REMEMBER THE WINS.

Everyone has regrets. Everyone. We all have things we wish we could have done differently. But instead of beating yourself up for the things you did wrong, how about choosing to celebrate the things you did right? Most likely, there are people in your life who do just that. Your kids.

A few weeks ago, I was browsing Pinterest, and an article caught my eye. "10 Ways You Can Be a Better Mom". Before I could read it, my 12 year old snatched my phone away. "Hey! What did you do that for?" I declared. With his trademark singly raised eyebrow, and a calm demeanor, he said, "You don't need to read that. You're already a GREAT Mom." Children measure wins differently than we do. And maybe we would do well in following their paths.

And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. Philippians 4:8 NLT

When regret's acidity sours the back of your throat, REMEMBER THE WINS. When comparison threatens to steal your joy, REMEMBER THE WINS. When time zooms by at a breakneck pace, REMEMBER THE WINS. When your sleep is robbed by watching your mistakes over and over, REMEMBER THE WINS. Remember all the fun you had with your kids this summer, and all the reasons they love that you're their Mom. They have no regrets; why should you?

Finding the Gifts In Pain

For the past few days, I've been laid up with a lower back ache of the yucky variety. It feels like my lower spine is being gripped by a vice, and every once in a while a fiery electricity shoots through my muscles. I'm a firm believer that people need more than one best friend, and this week has convinced me I'm right. Since Saturday, my three best friends have been Bayer Back and Body, a microwavable sac of corn, and lots of rest.

Pain is a part of life. It's impossible to escape. I admit that I hate it. But I also acknowledge that I have an easier grasp on pain if there's a purpose behind it. For instance, if I'm in the gym, taxing and maxing out my muscles in a marathon squat, pain is my body's way of saying, "You're changing the shape of your muscle! Embrace the burn!" Actually, that sounds more like what my instructors say. And when on four occasions in my life, I found myself in a hospital, belly burgeoning with life wanting to escape, pain told me, "Hang on- just getting you one step closer to becoming a Mom!" I get that. I understand that there is a purpose to those types of pain. This back pain though, I don't get it. There's a lot about pain that I can't swallow. I would be able to with the promise of a purpose, but without that, pain seems pointless. What does a bad back, or pain in life, have to do with anything good? If I look hard enough into the cloud of that question, I am able to find a silver lining. 

My back pain has demanded that I make some major adjustments to the way I go about life. I have to be intentional about every movement, and every position. In other words, pain has caused me to slow down. I'm used to a certain pace of life with taxiing my kids to and from school, going to the gym, running errands, keeping the house...well...kept up- it's all a part of what my life looks like. This pain though, has put the brakes on a lot of that activity. I have had to slow down my pace, decrease the miles per hour on the sometimes frantic treadmill of life, and slow down my expectations. Pain causes us to pause more, to reevaluate what is truly necessary, and to funnel our energies into  more narrow, purposeful living. Suddenly the things that I thought I had to do became things that I had to put off for another less pain filled day. And I had to learn to be OK with that. 

Pain has also made me more sensitive to the pain others have endured. As I laid down on my bed with a hot pack on my back, my mind went to my friend Jillian's sweet Mom, Diane. Diane went home to be with Jesus back in November, and watching Jillian move through the stages of grief at a distance has been both heart-breaking and inspiring. I remember before Diane was diagnosed with cancer, that she experienced unbearable back pain. I know for a fact that what I feel doesn't even come close to the pain she felt. I can't imagine. And yet through that excruciating pain, I saw in her the love of Jesus, in the most fiery trial of her life. This pain reminds me that there are others in my life who are in a world of pain. A pain free back would desensitize me to the pain all around me, but every time I ache, I remember to pray for those who are in agony of body, spirit, soul, or emotions. Which brings me to unwrap the next gift of pain: perspective.

In my haste in life, sometimes I go after the seemingly urgent, and skip over the eternal. Pain is reminding me what is really important in my life. Usually when I pick up my 6 year old, Janessa, from kindergarten, once she's buckled in, we take off for home. But every once in a while when she has something important to tell or show me, she asks me to pull over and stop before we head home so she can chat with me. On one of the worst days of my pain, she climbed in the van and said, "Mom! I have something to show you! Can you pull over?" After I stopped the car, she pulled out a picture she had colored in class. It was a black sheep. "Aww!" I exclaimed. "Janessa, it's beautiful!" "But Mom, that's not all! Flip it over." I flipped it over and saw that she had hand drawn a picture of a shepherd with a crook. "See that shepherd?" she gushed, "I drew him so he could take care of the sheep." Instantly, as my back ached from sitting in the van so long, I remembered that my Good Shepherd was taking care of me, His sheep. And I was reminded that in my moment of weakness, that He was even more so tenderly, and gently caring for me, as I attempted to care for my husband and kids. Pain brings perspective because it reminds me that I'm not operating in my own strength. A healthy back would make it easy to forget, but a back wracked with pain is a tangible reminder that I need His help with every step, every stretch, and every bend. My weakness is the perfect platform for His strength to take center stage. My frailty stands in perfect contrast to His mighty power. My pain wrings me out of myself, and lets me soak up more of my Creator's strength. 

Slowing down. Sensitivity. Perspective. These are just some of the gifts of pain. I wouldn't wish pain on anyone. I wish there was a way we could escape it. But since we know there isn't a way, we have to ask ourselves, are there gifts in pain that I haven't explored? Am I emerging from this tight place a changed individual? Are there more people that I'll be able to understand because I've been through this? If so, you have discovered the gifts of pain. And as the old adage says, "no pain, no gain."

Buddies For Blind Spots

I joke with people that the day that I gave birth to my first child was the day that I grew eyes in the back of my head. There have been so many times where I was able to catch a falling object, shield a child from bumping their head on something, and policing them carefully away from stair cases. I didn't always make it in time, but thankfully I've been able to avoid a couple of crises.

I find that as long as I can see, I have somewhat of an advantage maneuvering around life. Sometimes I can see things clearly and can side step around them. Not every danger is hidden from sight. But there are those times when I could use a literal pair of eyes in the back of my head. Like the times that I am harboring an awful attitude that needs changing, or the times that my bad habits sneak up on me without me seeing them, or the mindsets that I've had for years that I think are "normal" to have. I call these things as they are: my blind spots.

There's only a certain area of peripheral vision granted to us; only so much that we have the capacity to see. I can't always see the evil in my heart and mind. I can't always see how my words affect others. I can't always see which thoughts are straight from the pit and wreaking havoc in my mind. For those blind spots, there are only 2 solutions: God and people.

David in the book of Psalms cried out in Psalm 19:12, "How can I know all the sins lurking in my heart? Cleanse me from these hidden faults." God sees every nook and cranny inside your heart, and yet He loves you fiercely in spite of everything. There isn't anything in your heart that He doesn't already know, so in effect, coming clean to a God who knows everything and loves you anyway is refreshing. Liberating. Absolutely cathartic. There's no hiding, no shame, no pretending. In His love, and by His truth, He will reveal to you anything lurking in your blind spot that threatens to sideswipe, sabotage and sink you. He is for you. He is on your side.

Much like the shape of the cross, our lives are hinged on two things- the vertical (our relationship with God) and the horizontal (our relationship with people). The thing about being a person is that I'm not perfect. I can't do anything perfectly. I can't love perfectly. But I have seen the beauty of an equally imperfect friend coming alongside me and lovingly telling me that she sees something in or around me that's not from God. And even though I might not always want to hear the truth about my stuff, I know deep down that she loves me. She's for me. She sees the best in me too. 

What a gift to have a friend who like a surgeon, uses the scalpel of truth and the sutures of grace to make us healed and whole in the end. Friends such as these are rare indeed. If you have them, keep them. If you don't, seek them out. 

And if it's you who feels the nudge to be eyes in the back of your friend's head, be gentle. Be honest. Be full of grace. With the same tenderness you would want someone to excise the cancer of sin from your heart, proceed in love. Pray for the right timing. Pray that their hearts and ears would be receptive. Pray for wisdom in your execution. Pray for restoration for your friend.

In these days of peril, lone wolfing it will only get you in a deep ditch without escape. We need a connection with an all knowing, all seeing, all present God for cleansing, correction, and care. And we need the camaraderie of one or two trusted friends who will commit to love us, cheer for us, and be eyes in the back of our heads to dangers without and within. May we have the courage and the clarity to  see our flaws through the mirror of God's word, and may His grace and wisdom steer us and our buddies as we watch out for each other. 

Stand firm. Stay sharp. Love well.