His Burden Is Light

I hate when my boys cry.  I know this is hypocritical, because I cry all the time. But I like to think I cry over really important issues. My children cry because they don't want their vegetables or they don't want to clean their room or they forgot to do their homework or some other asinine reason.  On President's Day, my oldest, Jaden, was crying at 8 o 'clock at night because his Spanish homework was hard and he didn't think he could finish it by his 830 bedtime.  To me this was not an acceptable reason to cry.  He had three days to do his Spanish homework and he waited until 830 the night before it was due. No bueno.

I told him to quit crying, suck it up and do what he could before bed.
Jaden's aunt who was over, started helping him. "I love word search puzzles," she said.  "Let me help you." I was glad that she was building a relationship with my son, but it made me wonder why I was totally lacking compassion at that moment. And I had an epiphany.

I have always believed in the adage, "God helps those who help themselves."  But I got to thinking about how my Jaden doesn't do himself any favors.   He puts things off to the last minute causing him stress in school.  He has a hard time controlling his temper, causing him stress at home; that kind of thing.  And then I got to thinking, that I am quite a bit like my son. There are so many areas of my life, weaknesses in my personality that I am utterly unable to fix.  I have tried to be sure, but I am just not strong enough.  So maybe God doesn't help those who help themselves.  Maybe God helps us because we can't help ourselves.

Jaden at his baptism. He is such a sweet boy. I love him!!

Matthew 11:28-30 says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  A yoke is a wooden beam put on the shoulders of cattle, or oxen so they can carry a load.  The yoke I place upon my shoulders, the load I try to carry, it is impossibly heavy.  I need to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect nurse, the perfect friend.  I also need to have a spotless house and cellulite free body.  I should never be depressed or anxious. I should never think bad thoughts, and I should never, ever say the S word.  Only when I can do all these things, will God help me.  But Matthew 11 says something different.  God wants to exchange my heavy burden for a light one.  He wants to take my load.


I am reminded of the Matthew West song that says 
 
I know I'm not strong enough to be
everything that I'm supposed to be
I give up
I'm not strong enough
Hands of mercy won't you cover me
Lord right now I'm asking you to be
Strong enough
Strong enough
For the both of us

So today I am committing to a life change.  I am going to give my load to God.  And I am going to encourage my children to give their loads to God, because they aren't strong enough either.  And I might, just maybe, help my children with their Spanish homework when they wait until the last minute to do it.   Because I want to be a tangible example of Christ's love for them.  Jesus, Gracias por su ayuda.

Medium Sized

My son Cael turned 9 years old last month.  I know in most circles that is not a milestone birthday, but in our family it has become a big deal.  9 years old means you are no longer a Little Kid, instead you are a Medium Kid.

The distinguished title of Medium Kid came about several years ago on a family bowling trip. Cael was about 7 years old at the time and despite Cael's best efforts he could not outscore his older brother.  After the bowling, Cael was frustrated and pouting.  In an effort to make him feel better, I told him that he did really well but that he couldn't expect to bowl like a professional or even as well as Jaden because he was just a "little kid."  Cael started crying, balling hysterically really.  He said that being called a little kid was the worst insult he had ever recieved.  And yes, he did use those words.  He went on to tell me that he could not believe his own mother would be so cruel to him.  Again, his words.  I had to save the situation so I calmly explained that everyone knows you are a Little Kid until you turn 9, after which you become a Medium Kid.  You weren't actually a Big Kid until you became a teenager.  After about 3 hours, a Dr. Pepper, and an ice cream sundae at Village Inn, this became an acceptable explanation and I was forgiven.

Medium sized has its advantages.  You become a better bowler.  You are more helpful around the house so you can earn more money.  You can be somewhat trusted with expensive electronics.  You get to take drum lessons.  I don't believe there is any part of Cael that wishes he was 8 years old again.

Cael

As a mother, I am not so sure I like medium sized.  Cael got called to the principal's office for the first time in the last month.  It was not his fault, he tells me, his friend was pushing and he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Also, at his birthday party, his 9 year old friend was talking about "boobs".  What???? At nine?????  Cael told me he thought this was disgusting and didn't want his friend to come over again, ever.    Thank the good Lord. 

 But still, I am reminded that you can't shelter Medium Kids quite as well as you can shelter Little Kids.  Jaden will be 13 in two years and I am certain that sheltering Big Kids will be even harder than sheltering Medium Kids.  I don't like this, but what other options do I have?  Even if I homeschooled them, and didn't allow my children access to media, and never took them anywhere, eventually my Big Kids would be adults.  And then what??   I guess I could tie them up.  But my boys will be taller and stronger than me very soon.

My Medium Kids; Jaden and Cael

I can't shelter them, protect them, hide them or tie them up.  I can only raise them and ask God to build them. One of my very favorite poems is by General Douglas McArthur.  It is my prayer for my boys as they grow.  The poem is just of a medium size, so I encourage you to read it.

Build Me A Son, O Lord

Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid; one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory.

Build me a son whose wishbone will not be where his backbone should be; a son who will know Thee and that to know himself is the foundation stone of knowledge. Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort, but under the stress and spur of difficulties and challenge. Here let him learn to stand up in the storm; here let him learn compassion for those who fail.

Build me a son whose heart will be clean, whose goal will be high; a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men; one who will learn to laugh, yet never forget how to weep; one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past.

And after all these things are his, add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor, so that he may always be serious, yet never take himself too seriously. Give him humility, so that he may always remember the simplicity of greatness, the open mind of true wisdom, the meekness of true strength.

Then I, his father, will dare to whisper, “I have not lived in vain.”

-General Douglas MacArthur

Lights Out

Jaden Sleeping

So it is early Saturday morning and I am sitting at my church in my pajamas watching my children sleep. We are sleeping at the church because our power is out, has been out for over 48 hours now. The power in my house is out because two days ago we had hurricane strength winds in UTAH!! The power company has no idea when our power will be restored but "they are working very hard and around the clock to restore our power."

So this power outage has taught me a few things. One, I am very thankful to be living in the 21st century. I feel paralyzed without internet, cable, my cell phone charger, my hair-straightener...how..do..I..exist. Two, I have too much stuff. It is amazing the amount of things I have to trip over when I have no light to navigate around them. If I lived in a country without lights, I would own a much smaller house, and many less things. Three, I hate being cold. Technically I already knew this, but still. Four, I have forgotten the secret of being content.

Owen Sleeping

My children, on the other hand, know how to be content in all circumstances. Currently they are playing dodge ball with a water bottle in the church lobby. Content. They were excited to camp on the church floor. Content. They were giggling with wide-eyed wonder at getting dressed by candlelight. Content.

Meanwhile, I am sure I will be without power until I am 85. I am thinking of the clothes mildewing in my washer. I am thinking of all the money spent eating out because I can't cook at home. I am thinking of how horrendous my hair looks when it is air-dryed. I am thinking this power outage sucks.

So I was reading my Bible this morning and I came across Philippians 4:6-7.

"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God, and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."

Cael Sleeping

With thanksgiving, Lord, I thank you for my children who teach me everyday to be a better person. Lord, I thank you for teaching me to be content in all circumstances. Lord, I thank you that I have had electricity for 34 years and I will probably one day get it back.

I feel better already. A little frizzy-headed still, but better.

Cootie Invasion

I have not updated this blog in almost two months and there is a good reason for this.  Invasion.  Our family has been invaded by cooties.  I am not exagerating when I say that one or more of us has been sick since September.

Currently my husband has a fever, cough and congestion.  He has been in bed all day hacking away.  And anyone who has a husband can tell you, men get particularly grumpy when sick.  So he has been in bed, and I have been avoiding him, while my 5 year old coughs all over the hard surfaces of our home and my baby wipes his snotty, green nose all over the soft surfaces. Yes, that makes one half of the members of our household invaded by the crud.

Last month it was my three school age kiddos who caught the cooties.  They were vomiting with chills and body aches.  My 8 year old got sick as we were leaving in the van for our fall vacation. So we had 6 hours to travel in essentially a big incubator.  We stopped at Walmart and bought hand sanitizer, Lysol spray and surgical masks.   We made Cael don a mask and relegated him to the back seat.  With tears in his eyes and on the verge of vomiting he says to us, "I am humiliated."   But victory- no one else got sick- on the trip anyway.

Cael reenacting his humiliated face.

I am not fond of sickness.  It makes me irritable when my family is sick.  I get irritable because I can't control it.  No amount of hand-washing, hand-sanitizing, medication, isolation or good old-fashioned pleading with God seems to keep sickness away.  And when my kids are miserable, I feel powerless, which essentially I am.  All I can do is love em, hug em, spray em down with Lysol, hope for the best and thank God when its over.  Please God, can this be over soon?

Surprises in the Shower

I have friends who have no children.   Their house stays clean, no cheerios on the floor or toothpaste smeared on the counter. No chocolate fingerprints on the fridge.  I am quite sure they don't have dismembered action figures laying everywhere in their home. I am sure no one ever poops in their shower or throws up in their bed.

And it is not just cleanliness my childless friends enjoy.  They also enjoy a very flexible schedule.  Last year they whisked off to Germany on a moment's notice.  Barbados is on the agenda for this year.  They stay out late, if they want to.  Or go to bed early, if they want to. There are no football practices, ice skating lessons or choir concerts they must attend.  They have absolutely no homework to do.  They don't have to re-learn long division or the periodic table, not if they don't want to.  Nope.  My childless friends can do whatever they want, whenever they want.

I know their home is more peaceful, too.  No crying babies or screaming toddlers.  No sibling arguments over who sat in the front last time.  No pillow fights, food fights or fist fights.  No children crying because their brother shot their arm with a BB gun.

Frankly, I am a little envious of my friends.

However.  My childless friends do not get opened mouth kisses from a 16 month old.  They don't have a five year old to say, "I just love you so much mommy". They don't get to say bedtime prayers with little boys who have giant faith. My friends don't have anyone crawling on their lap for a story. My childless friends will never know the fulfillment and wonder that children bring.

Shower Surprise Culprit- Toren

And they probably don't want to.  But I  do. And if poop in my shower and long division are the price I have to pay, I will pay it gladly.

Dear Kindergarten Teacher

My Owen started Kindergarten yesterday.  I had to complete a form which aimed to help his teacher learn a little bit more about her students.  General questions were included; questions about siblings and family structure, medications and allergies, et cetera.  The last question on the form was this, "Is there anything else that I should know about your child?"

Ummm, yeah! 

Dear Kindergarten Teacher,
You should know that I prayed for two years for God to give me a 3rd child before I became pregnant with Owen Scott.  You should know that Owen means Young Warrior and Scott is my father's name.
Also, you should know when he was born, the bones of Owen's head were overlapping and I was sick with worry until the neurologist told us the bones would return to a normal position with time.  And you should know that Owen had RSV when he was a baby.  The doctor said he was amazed that our little guy wasn't blue as hard as he was working to breathe,.  And you should know that I watched him breathe all day, everyday for the next week, wishing I could make it easier for him.

I also think you should know that Owen was an easy baby.  He hardly ever cried.  I mean, almost never.  He never hit the terrible twos.  He never hit the ferocious fours. Owen is my most easy-going child.  He can be a little shy at times, but generally he is filled with self-confidence.  He just has this understanding that he is divinely created and he is enough.

Oh, also, you should know that Owen tells me he loves me, unsolicited, at least 20 times each day and he gives me kisses and when he does he makes the "mwah" sound.  And last year Owen's brothers caught him talking to himself in his room one day but Owen said he was talking to Jesus.  When I asked him about this Owen said, "Yeah, mom, its because Jesus talks to me".

So basically, be careful with my little Owie.  He is wonderful, delightul, sweet and fragile. And he is mine.

Sincerely,
Owen's Mom

I am not entirely sure this is what Kindergarten teacher had in mind.  But she did ask.

Owen on his first day of Kindergarten

Katie Holmes

In the dark I know I look like Katie Holmes. I just know it.  But with the lights on, well....