Power of the Mama

We occupied seats 3C and 3D on the tiny jet headed back to Denver.  Me, with my head already in the clouds, and she, holding her baby and wanting to be chatty. We both sat down and stowed our carryon bags.  She had brought a lot more onto the plane with her, and was carrying her loot along with her child.  Hubby and another child followed her and sat down across the aisle.  I thought that it would appear rude if I put my headphones on right away after sitting down, so I waited.  During my wait, she turned to me and apologized for any noise that her cute little boy would make on the 2 1/2 hour flight.  I explained that I wouldn't be bothered.  She then began the friendly questioning.  "Where have you been?" "Where are you headed?" "What did you do while you were here?"  I volunteered my Mama status, explained that I had 4 kids, which settled her anxiety about her little boy getting on my nerves.  She glanced away and I took the opportunity to settle in to my own seat, trying to still be friendly, while making it clear that I welcomed some distance from her. 

As she unstrapped her baby from the carrier he was in, I had a flashback to flights that I had taken years earlier.  Babies too young to sit in their own seats, sat with me.  I could recall 2 different trips that I had my littlest ones attached to my body for most of the duration of the flight.  If felt good to have them close to me, to think that I was their "flight" that transported them across the country to our final destinations.  As I stole a peak at her little boy, I remembered with fondness when I was everything to my babies. Or so I wanted to think that I was.  This mama sitting next to me had the matters of flying with a baby down pat.  She was an expert.  She looked like she could have written her own version of "What to Expect when You are Flying on an Airplane with a baby".  There were snacks, and pacifiers and blankets.  She sang songs and played games that she came on board with, prepared to use at a moments notice. 

But the baby's favorite thing wasn't the toys that she brought, it wasn't the pacifier or the snacks.  It was her.  She was the activity that he wanted to play.  She was the comfort he needed.  Her's were the eyes that he wanted to look into, the nose that he wanted snuggled into his cheek.  This mama was his everything.  At one point during the flight, she passed the baby over the aisle to the dad.  The cries and fussing reached a higher decibel during this exchange, and then quieted back down as the mom and baby were reunited.  I heard her whisper to him.  "We're back together again. Its ok." 

She didn't know that I had been away from my kiddos for 4 days.  She didn't know that my heart was longing to get back together with MY babies as well.  I had talked to the kids while I was gone, and I knew that they were doing just fine.  Daddy was on the case which meant there was plenty of care, plenty of love and plenty of yummy food.  BUT... they didn't have ME.  And they missed ME.  They missed  my presence in their lives, my hugs goodnight, my scratches on my back, even the silly things that I always say.  Littles and Bigs alike, they missed me.  I am their constant,  something to be certain and assured of.  There are times that can be exhausting, but for the most part, this is a role that I love.  I know that for sure.

I came home from California with a greater determination to be PRESENT.  To not be so distracted.  To enjoy the ordinary and the normal.  To participate more fully and engage myself more honestly with my kids and husband.  I am energized in my spirit that I am, as Kelle , Claire,  and Annie taught me this weekend, "the keeper of the details of our life." That is my purpose, that is where my power lies.  This HOLY HABIT of giving my kids what they need to be comforted, showing them how to live, speaking wisdom and hope to them, celebrating the wonderful things, guiding them through the painful things.  Just like that mama on the plane, I have the power to entertain, shoosh, rock, comfort and play our way to a safe and happy landing.

Pass it on

When I was a teen, I loved going to church youth group.  I spent many hours hanging out there both in junior high and in high school.  One of my favorite things that we did at youth group was sing praise and worship music.  Often, the song "Pass it on" was on the set list for the night.  The song starts off like this...

"It only takes a spark, to get a fire going.  And soon all those around will warm up to it's glowing." 

I'm not sure if I got those words exactly right... but the gist of the song was that it just takes one spark.  And then the fire starts... 

Well, this week I had a couple of sparks in my life.  And, just like the song says... Those sparks started a fire of sorts in my heart!!  These sparks came as encouragement from a couple of my favorite people.  Honest encouragement from their hearts.  I think that it was so kind of them to SPEAK their encouragement rather than just think it.  Because it wouldn't have even BEEN encouraging to me if they hadn't shared it.  That's the glowing that the song from my past is talking about.  I was able to warm up to the glowing shared by my friends. 

We should all follow the example of my kind friends, to share when we are thinking kind things and not just think the kind things.  

Pass it on.

I Corinthians 16:13-14

"Be on your guard; stand firm in your faith; be men (women) of courage; be strong. 

Do EVERYTHING in love." 

I found these verses, hidden in the pages of the New Testament, about a year ago.  I think that I was looking for  a completely different passage when my eyes landed right on these verses.  Well, HELLO THERE!!  These 2 verses smacked me upside the head.  I immediately wrote in the margin of my Bible - "Parenting Advice" because that is exactly what this was.  Patrick and I had recently been faced with a challenge from one of our kids, and we were both really seeking God's wisdom.  And then I read these verses.  God was telling us what to do.  

The times are shifting around here.  The good natured, snuggly, kissy, dependent little children that have been in my nest are being transformed into independent, stronger, more opininated, self-thinking, individuals.  I see glimpses of the adults that they will become.  Adults I have been the process of raising.  I'm so loving the conversations that I have with my older kids.  I love watching our favorite movies and shows together.  I love sharing a Starbucks with them. I love talking about the books we are reading.   I adore seeing each one of them develop their own sense of style, their own hobbies, their own loves.  I love texting with my older girls, hearing about their days, getting a sense of their moods and hearts through their words.  I love watching the kids interract with their friends.  I love hearing their opinions about stories in the news.  

BUT... 

I ALSO miss them sitting on my lap. Snuggling during a movie. Singing Veggie Tales songs.  Asking me what I think about something. I miss setting out an outfit (complete with matching hair accessories :)) for them, I miss the quiet nights at home when no one had any outside activities.  

And so... I say I miss it and then we keep moving.  Moving towards the future and all that it has in store for us.   Still doing our jobs as parents, to raise our littles to become bigs.  Doing everything in Love. Whether the kids are 5 or 16.  Whether they are aggreeable or have their own ideas.    Fighting for peace, fighting against anger, fighting for character over popularity, for living honestly rather than having things be easy. 

I have spent the last number of years, fighting for my children in so many different ways.  I have paid money to a lawyer to get time with them, I have fought with an ex-spouse in order to preserve my time with my older kids, I have battled friends whose influence I don't approve of,  I have set boundaries to the number of activities they have been involved with.  Fighting for my kids.  I really don't like the word "fighting" because it brings about feelings of negativity.  When my kids bicker (fight), I challenge them to make things right between them, to humble themselves to the other person.  But, some fights are worth having.  some fights are positive.  

Like this one in 1 Timothy 6:12a

"Fight the good fight of the faith."

My faith - a fight worth having.  I want to stand firm in my faith.

or this one in 2 Timothy 4:7

"I have fought the good fight (holding on to my faith), I have finished the race."

There is a finish line that we are headed for, fighting towards.  I used to think that the path towards the end was a straight line, start to finish.  You decide on a destination, you map out your route, and you point yourself in that direction, and then you arrive. 

Those thoughts were wrong. ;)

The finish line is a lot less clearly defined then I originally thought.  The destination can sometimes change, the map that you have can become outdated or blow away or get soggy, and sometimes when we point our-self towards a certain direction the fog might roll in so we can't see clearly or we might get jumped along the road or the terrain is much more difficult than we thought and we want to quit.  

A new stage, new times.  These things are inevitable and so exciting.  Kids change and kids grow.  Mamas and Daddys change and grow. And in order to be the mama that God calls me to be...

"I must be on my guard.  I must stand firm in my faith; I must be a woman of courage; I must be strong.  AND 

I must do EVERYTHING in love."