An admission, a confession, an epic fail in parenting 101? How about all the above?

It is hard for me to be this transparent, to admit one of my biggest fails. It's hard for me to know I am a Christian and yet admit this to her, to myself, to say this aloud to family and friends, let alone to all who read this.

My twins.

I fail as a mom... I fail every.single.day!

We waited for the blessing for ten years, waiting for our halls to be filled with laughter and black finger prints. We waited for the little humans we could teach and mold. The little buddy for dune riding and the little girly girl for mani/pedi dates. We waited.

Then when the pregnancy happened, I ate the right things, I stayed away from the wrong things, I went to the doctor with fear when blood showed up and it shouldn't have... I called the doctor every twinge and twitch that "felt a little off".

Bringing them home we were careful, we "set" the house with all the latest "safety stuff". They slept in our room months longer than they should have. When they got sick they went to the doctor for the common cold and a sneeze and a cough was monitored with a careful eye; after all mom knows what's coming.

That mom could not have predicted, though, this mom I have turned into. Let me preface this "confession".

I know I am a good mom. I know I am a great mom. I know they are loved beyond belief. They know it too...

But even the best moms falter and I have faltered. I have headed down a rabbit hole of unkindness and I know I have some damage to undo.

Before you scratch your head and wonder what the heck I am talking about let me set the stage.

I left the kids in the car the other day, in my friends driveway - she met me outside we chatted for a bit while I dropped off a book. After a few minutes we said good-bye and I headed back to the car. I climbed in and adjusted the rearview mirror, getting ready to say, "ready to go home kids?" but my eye catches my son with tears rolling down his face and my daughter, I see her looking out the window - ignoring my gaze.

I asked "them" what on earth... What could have happened to start this... I am still not sure. I know there was "pillow fight" in which the "pillows" were replaced by the Advent calendars I just purchased. I know there were some nasty words exchanged... But the ones that cut the deepest, created the most damage were the words that my daughter spat at her brother.

"You are the worst brother ever." "You are a spoiled brat."

And there it was... Not the worst brother ever part... I don't ever tell them they are the worst anything... But the spoiled brat part. Ugh! The cutting words... The anger...

Our kids inherit the best and the worst.

My mom was very careful not to call me a brat but it did come out from time to time. I suppose I deserved it, still do sometimes but that doesn't make it okay to say. She was always sorry and it was never something I had certainly planned on including in my discipline repertoire but sadly, it's been said a few times and now it's being repeated.

Insert face-palm here.

My daughter is tough like me. She stuffs her feelings in, like me. She doesn't let the hurt show, also like me... But when that anger surfaces... Oh.my.oh!

I often tell those that know me best... Just because you can't see them, it doesn't mean I don't contain them... Feelings, that is. And it doesn't mean I never get hurt, you just don't usually see it.

But looking at my son, because of course, I have never used those words with him... Seeing the pain, seeing how badly those words cut from his sister. Knowing the last bit of those words came from me...

As soon as we got home, I helped him from the car and gave him a big squeeze and told him how amazing he is. And for my daughter I did the same...

Later at the dinner table I cleared my throat and said some words that don't come so easy...

First I looked at my daughter and said, "I am sorry, mommy should never say those things to you. The words "spoiled brat" hurt and I hope you forgive me. It's not true. I won't use them again."

Her eyes were big, they were unsure and then they softened... "Yes mom, I know you love me."

And I looked at my son and apologized as well... "I am sorry to you too, if I wouldn't have said that to her, she wouldn't have said that to you."

Tucking them in, while praying for their dreams, I asked Our Father for forgiveness as well.

I don't personally deal well with an interrupted life, I don't work well stressed out. And when I am stretched and pulled to the max something has to give, for me, it manifests in anger, frustration and bitterness. It comes out sometimes at others and there is damage.

Thankfully, by the Grace of God, my children, husband, family and friends - I can be forgiven.

I know God prunes what does not belong. I know He reveals individually what needs to go and convicts through His Spirit to make the changes within ourselves. Myself.

I know the anger is bring pruned. I know, instead, I can look for peace, love and grace. I can apply patience and kindness to replace the frustrations and stresses.

Lord, thank you for revealing a harsh reality. Thank you for showing me with grace I don't always bestow. Lord, help me to look to you for guidance before I even utter a word and Lord, thank you for the boldness to apologize in all circumstances but especially when it matters most, to those it means the most to. I am thankful, grateful, humbled and blessed. Amen.

And she asks, nearly every night, "are you staying up for a little bit?".  Some nights it frustrates me, she knows the answer and yet, every night, just after the prayers are said she asks, "are you staying up for a little bit?"

I remember feeling that same way.  I remember being her age, laying in bed listening to the TV, "my parents shows", I remember hearing the soft tone, the inflection in their quiet conversation.  I remember, at her age, feeling safe with my parents awake.  I remember the way falling asleep felt knowing they were watching over the house, and I suppose, my sleeping body.  Nothing could hurt me if they were awake.  

A few months ago her daddy asked me why she does this, it was getting on his nerves also.  I asked him to let it be, I did the same thing at her age, it's reassuring, it's safety and if that's all she needs to sleep soundly - unafraid then every night we will allow the question that always comes.

Tonight they (the hubbie and the kids) stayed out late. The boy went to bed as soon as they walked in.  The girl, though, wanted prayers for her dreams.  I took it a moment further and asked her to sit up with me.  I asked her about her time tonight, I held her really tight and kissed the top of her head... I stroked her hair and when it was time to say her prayers she was happy.  As I ushered her off to bed, I said, before she could ask, "We will be staying up for a bit."  and with a smile she went off to bed.  

For months we've gone on allowing her to ask but tonight it hit me. All along, we, as her parents, should have reassured her with our actions and speak.  We can easily leave a night light on, we can easily pray for dreams and lock up the house.  But darkness always comes.  Night always comes.  The fear that sets in, hard, in the middle of your core - that comes...  it's enough sometimes to know someone is staying up for a little bit, to watch over, to lock up, to turn the light on, to come and check in, to pull the blanket up a little tighter and to say a prayer over a precious head long after they have fallen asleep.


Safety and reassurance.  Prayers and a night light.  Staying up long after the house has gone to bed. 

Dear Heavenly Father,  
I just praise you for this day.  I praise you for life you give and the provision you have made for every living thing.  I praise you for not growing weak or weary as man does, as I do.  Lord, I thank you for the questions my children ask, I thank you for their little lives.  You have truly blessed me more than I have ever deserved.  Lord, I am so thankful to hear your voice when my daughter asks... "will you stay up for a little bit?"  I thank you that I am able to answer, yes my dear child, I will stay up.  I will watch over you... I will pray for your dreams and leave the light on... but also that I can say... and when I go off to sleep God's taking over - in fact, He had it more than I ever could all along.  Praise you Father for that blessing... He who keeps you will not slumber.  The Lord is her keeper, my keeper, our keeper.  A wonderful blessing.

Amen

Another Monday... that is how this week started. I don't know how Monday's turn out to be "Monday's", but they do.

I went to bed Sunday night after doing battle with ants; ANT's, I say... The smallest black specs of ants I have ever seen. Traipsing side by side across my kitchen counter from the windowsill under my crock pot and they stop.   They do not appear out the other side or up the side or in (somehow that last sentence conjures up the image of Dr. Seuss)... I lift up the crock pot to find, one-ONE-1 random Lucky Charm from Sunday morning breakfast. I spent the next two hours cleaning and bleaching and squishing! Ha!

6 am comes too fast. Hitting snooze as the small boy comes bounding in, "Sun's up mom, can I play Wii?"  "Well of course you can't son..."  that's my response these days...  He always wants to play Wii and I am not so sure first thing in the morning is the time for that activity...  When we need to get dressed and ready for school.  When breakfast needs to be eaten, lunches packed and homework signed off and tucked away.  Of course, you cannot play the Wii. And like every school day, it's a battle and he stomps off in not so silent protest.  

UGH... I am not their friend... I have to remind myself.  My job is to set boundaries and make sure they understand responsibility so they can grow up to be good little people who do amazing things.

"You need to start pouring your breakfast!"  I call after him.

This little man comes back a few moments later... his brow furrowed.  He says, "Mom, there are "guards" on the bananas."  Naturally I say, "What?"  He reply's, "Ya, Mom... there are, like, these tiny flying bugs guarding the bananas"  

I have never heard of such a thing... so I get up, come out to find a banana split open at the top near the stem, which allowed a nice little home for some fruit flies.  Yep... "guarding" the bananas... Ants and now this...  You'd think my kitchen is dirty... its not... in fact these banana's were only purchased two days ago and are barely starting to ripen... 

Monday night we were getting ready for dinner, waiting on some friends of ours to come over for dinner.  Table was set, dinner was ready, candles lit and the hubbie was outside working on the fire pit with S'mores in our future.  Peaceful.

The doorbell rings to my left and a small child calls from my right, 'Mooommm, the dog puked, he puked twice..."  as the other small child races to the door  and begins to call call through the security gate, "you guys can't come in, the dog puked all over."  "Oh, my gosh", I think, "now the whole neighborhood knows the dog puked" as do our new friends.  {insert horrific face here}  

Most weeks don't start like this, for some reason this was just unreasonably bad.   Thankfully it didn't stay that way.  

Dinner ended on a high note, with the night air crisp enough to make the fire necessary and marshmallow roasting a blast.  

There were moments this week which made me thankful, grateful for God's blessings.  Like pumping gas... like connection with an old friend.  Thankful for a misunderstanding with a new friend.  Moments within the Bible that made me stop and re-read; sinking them into my heart and then in one fell swoop,  an answer to a summer long prayer journey.  

There are two groups of people in our life that have made life really hard.  We have tried and tried to make things work or make things right.  We have tried to understand.  We have tried to go 'over and above' and when we couldn't try any more, we tried one more time.  We tried until we gave up trying, at the point in both situations, when we knew nothing short of quite literally, "an act of God" would make it right.  

This past summer our pastor did a series on prayer, at least I think I remember it that way.  The sermon was based on watching God show up and show off in prayer.  It is important for believers to actually watch and witness answers to prayers.

there is a person I cannot pray for anymore, for all those reasons stated above, right or wrong, I needed a break.  To protect my heart, I was becoming bitter towards this person.  I was right to be upset with her, but not right that I was sinning in my thought process, sinning in my actions.... I allowed my heart to change towards this person.  So, I used this opportunity to write her name on a card along with two other people and I briefly gave an intro to the situation. The woman who is praying for "our" people is a godly woman, I know this, I have spent time with her and I love her dearly.  It also so happens that I received her prayer card so we've exchanged praying for each others "people".  

Over the past few months we've had phone calls and had prayer "status updates".  For my person, the updates were small and seemingly meaningless until this week.  

This week there was a mighty change.  I dare be bold and confident in the change because a leopard seldom changes it's spots but I know... without a doubt we can become spotless within God...

I also know this is God at work because my "person" decided to visit a place my prayer person frequents.  As if God is saying, I am indirectly bringing them in contact with each other.  And I am not talking about your neighborhood, Starbucks on every corner place... this is a place that would obviously put me at ease, that would speak to the both of us.  God specifically saying, "See what I just did right there?!?"

The results of prayer are new, I remain cautiously optimistic in this space and I know my prayer partner remains in prayer for my person.

The second situation is my moms prayer for some family members.  We had a massive falling out over the summer... it was just bad news bears.  In a situation similar to the first, except in this one - I think we were all wrong but caught up in the emotion of it all.  Eventually we retreated to our own corners of the ring, some were more silent than others, others were more vocally self-righteous and indignant. 

Pardon me a moment... 

That's what it felt like... a great fall... a fall which caused a break so wide nothing could put it together again.  Nothing except for the power for prayer and God's divine handiwork.  I am not sure who my mother's prayer person is, who is praying for this situation but I can say it's slowly changing.  

We're all, in our own corners hearing sermons, or having conversations with others that bring us back around to each other.  Slowly.  We're each individually and independently working on what's broken.  We each have God who is quietly putting pieces of this egg back together.  Broken and spilled out... there's no going back to who we were before that.  I do think though, we will be better than before.  I believe that is God's plan.  

In any event.  I am learning not to count myself out.  Not to give up and say never again.   I am learning time and again that God's ways are truly not my ways and oh, how grateful I am for that. 

We pray before every meal, we pray before bed time, we pray at church and at school and yes, I pray at work. We pray all the time. Occasionally one of us prays and it catches me off guard.

Tonight was one such night.   My daughter is an expert prayer. I am convinced this is a gifting. She never hesitates to bow her head and lead the family in a thoughtful, heartwarming prayer to God giving Him thanks and praises... Asking for his blessings.

My son isn't so intune with his sister. Usually finding him taking a bite before his hands are folded and he'll give a sly smile when caught. Tonight was a different story. Tonight his prayer made me pause, look up and over at my son to see if he was indeed speaking. And with his hands together and his fingers crossed, head bowed down he spoke the most honest prayer... A prayer I would never think to pray and it touched me deeply.

Dear Jesus,

Thank you for this day and the day that you made. Thank you for this dinner, may you bless it to our bodies. I pray for all those sick or hurting tonight. I pray for those Christians in other places that are being hurt. I pray for those hurting the Christians, I hope they get to know you. Amen.

The conversation was then filled with play date schedules and Clone Wars trivia. My daughter wanted to practice for her test tomorrow and watch a family movie before bed time.

I remained in awe of his wee little, mighty prayer. Wow! Faith like a child...

I don't want to pray for those who hurt Christians or deplorable acts for shock and awe value - to provoke fear.

We don't have a news channel... He doesn't see these things - he cannot imagine and I am grateful. He does, however, know enough from adult conversations to evidently get the jest and he takes that to pray for those who will be separated from God. My son understands that we must pray for all people, we must reach all people - that's what we're commanded to do. My son is 7 and teaching me new things every day.

I thought about loving others as I was approached this week by a guy at the gas station.  I don't know his story... I am sorry for that now.  His name was Justin.  In my mind he isn't homeless, he drives a nice but older green volvo.  In my mind he's in college and money is tight.  I have to admit I was completely thrown off guard.  

I've digressed, back to the moment at the gas station.  I needed to fill up.  I go through all the motions of buying gas... debit card, pin number, gas selection, gas cap off... nozzle... filling up....  Justin approaches.  He's kind and clean. The conversational exchange is polite and soft spoken.  He asks, "Could you spare some gas?"  He is holding a small red gas can.  I am used to being approached for money, or food.  I am used to dirty and uncomfortable conversations.  This also isn't a neighborhood one would associate with pan-handeling.  Do you see all the stuck up thoughts I have had in this one moment?

I am definitely caught off guard.  Then like a scene from Criminal Minds, I go scary and think... am I going to be abducted...  I almost chuckle now.  Nudged back into the moment from the crazy thought I hear quietly whispered, "You can take care of this need, it's not like he's asking for cash.".  "Yes"  I say.  "I can fill up your can."  and I do.  That's when we have awkward conversation for a few minutes and I find out his name is Justin.  He asks mine as well and I tell him.  I look at him and say, "I do this for you because I believe in Jesus and He commands me to be his hands and feet."  Justin says, "Yes, and I thank you."  I top him off and we part ways.  

I spent $5.62 to help someone in need... I don't know the reason for the moment or why he had a need.  I don't know why time moved so slow.  A lesson for me which just makes me pause.  

Hesitate.  I hate hesitating.  I hate considering the selfish thoughts of why, or how, or what could "he" "they" "she" do differently. The thought that runs through my head, "I have a job", "we work hard", "we sacrifice", "we watch our money".  As if I am better somehow.  I know, people don't intend to go to that place... of homelessness, of job-loss.  I know how quickly it can happen.  Life happens and money becomes an issue... health issues that drain the wallet, making it impossible to work or lay-offs in a down economy and a year or better without work.  

I know because I have been there... in my childhood, heck, just a few years ago when my own husband lost his job and we went through months of savings just to make ends meet while a job took more than 7 months to come.  We still haven't recovered completely.  

The better yes! I want to be better at yes, I want to be better at being God's hands and feet. I want to think less about what "yes" costs me and more about the blessing it could be to someone else. 

My son, with faith like a child... if only people could see our Jesus...  they'd be changed.

If only people could see yes with a happy heart and a smile from someone who cares, maybe they'd be changed. If only I could open up my hands and heart long enough to see people.  I saw Justin...  I saw his need and, after my mind argued through the rational, I filled it for him with a happy heart.

Another physically exhausting weekend! Every commitment was an important one and, what I consider, needed. The "yes" given with a happy and grateful heart.

But, Monday still hurt. It was still a hard wake-up. I slept through my alarm and "scheduled" brown-chair time with God.

Sunday night I finished a study called "What Happens When Women Say Yes to God?" Let me pause there for a moment. I had put off finishing this loved study as if I wasn't ready somehow.  Sunday night felt right. So... With the scalding water running and bubbles foaming, with the study and The Good Book tucked under my arm I stepped in.

For a moment I thought... Don't take your Bible in, it's going to end up in the water. I brushed it aside, it wasn't the first time I read in the tub and it won't be the last time. I did anyway... I settled in, laid the Bible on the rail and started the final chapter of my study. My dog quietly wandered in... And with a swoosh of his tail, as he exited to leave, my Bible plopped in.  

For a second I got mad... Yelled at my dog as he bent back his ears and tucked his tail under.

"There is the anger I have been trying to keep in check." I thought to myself!    "It's only a book." I tried to tell myself, except its not just a book. 

     {Introducing Secular Humanism... a random placement, not really...} 

As I am empting the contents of the Bible; personal prayers written out and dated with expectation of fulfillment from above, notes from great speakers which carved at my heart so much that I needed to write it down and stick it in my Bible to call upon when needed.  The gold wristband from still another conference which was all about the visual and not so visible marks and scars this world leaves on us. Each of these things I separate and leave on the floor to dry. Turning my attention to my Bible, I blow dry the pages, carefully, so as to not tear or bend. 

As I do these things I think about a post I read about a week ago regarding This silly Book... these "stories" thousand's of years old, "stories" that have no place in society today.  Some commenting that it breeds hatred, that there's no fact or history.  This person commenting about my much loved book, doesn't know this Word like I know this Word or else he does know this Word and has rejected it for his own reason. He stated plainly, "thankful to be a secular humanist".  At the time, I wanted to comment but my own schedule didn't allow to add and when I went back, I couldn't find the post so it wasn't meant for me.  But it did leave an impression and a deep sadness. 

This theory says there is nothing greater than "self"; myself, yourself.  Operating on the thoughts, ideas, ebb and flow of "popular" belief.  Where does morality and right or wrong come from then?  My sense of "what is right" is completely different than your sense of "what is right". 

I am not going to debate, because thankfully this flawed belief system tells me I get to be right based on my reason, ethics and morals.  I just happen to get  my "morally right" from the Ten Commandments...

No, I am not going to debate. Instead I am going to tell you what this silly little, book, 2,000 years old means to me.

I have had three bibles in my life. One, the first, given to me as a young child by my dear grandparents. It was Easter 1980, I was one.  That Bible, "presented to me" by "their names", a small but present reminder of the faith which founded our family (this country really). This Bible was only carried to church on Easter and Christmas service.  It now sits, near pristine, on my shelf. It serves as a reminder of the family members who thought the Word was important enough to start me off even at one.

Train up a child I the way they will go and when they are old, they will     not turn from it. Proverbs 22:6

The second Bible was green leather embossed with my name, my maiden name.   A gift from my parents the year I accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior. I didn't know yet, what that acceptance meant. So taken for granted, that Bible has gone missing, packed in a box somewhere with other memoribila of my past.

My present Bible. This third Bible I have done most of my growing with. Given to me by my brother. It's underlined where words jump out at me, a pathway lit on fire.

It is dated at the passage that helped me through some rough patches. When my husband lost his job for the better part of 7 months, my son had his first (and only) surgery to-date. All over the holidays when money is tight anyway. My faith waivered and James brought me back

"Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray..."  James 5:13

"And the prayer of the faith will save the sick and the Lord will raise him up..."  James 5:15

Hannah, crying in tears - mourning an empty womb ushering promises to God if He would just fill it.  

"...O Lord of hosts, if you would indeed look on the affliction of Your maidservant and remember me and not forget but give me a male child..."  1 Samuel 2:11

The evening I sat silently praying for my children and the following passage speaking to this mommy's heart.

But you must continue in the things which you have learned and been assured of, knowing from whom you have learned them.  and that from childhood you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith which is Jesus Christ...  2 Timothy 3:14-15

I could go on and on, because every day there a moments with Him, within his word and in prayer that assure me His way is the correct way.  I am going to tell you that my sense of right is right because it's mine...It's the way I have chosen to live, it's the way my husband and I agreed to live and raise children.

There is someone greater than myself. His name is Jesus and he loves me, wants to know me.

While thinking on this topic, in the process of writing, an aquaintance of mine posted the following to Facebook.

I thought long and hard about that. This process which I have committed to just by saying Yes to Christ and No to myself is an evolution, a change.   

As I grow with in the word, reading and spending time with Him. As I pray and sit at His feet in quiet conversation. As I fellowship with other believers who help me with my daily struggles... (Because I still struggle and this world is not perfect) and finally as I go and tell others about my life I am being pruned, I am being refined and I am being made better in His sight.

I don't care what the world says, as long as I keep my head up, focused on the only one who died and lived again for me.