Relentless

The Boy just won't stop.  Each week there is something new. A different topic, a better toy, an urgent "need"; my 4-year-old won't let the topic go.  Like a broken record when you can't unplug the player, watching the record move around and around, skipping over the same scratch (no comments from those who have no clue what I am referring to).  Although I admire his passion for all things with wheels, the persistent begging whittles away at my sanity each day.

A few of months ago, it was the "Christmas Train".  I kindly allowed him to unpack it from the Styrofoam and put it together.  It took up the floor of our living room, littered with Styrofoam crumbs.  He played with it for a several hours. Then, after bedtime I cleaned up the train, vacuumed the snowy packing remnants, and carried it to its semi-permanent location for 11 months of the year.  The next morning, the begging to unpack the train began and continued for the next several days.

The boy HAS trains, wooden and electric.  But this train "has 4 cars and the other train just has 3".  On and on, over and over, I have heard 1001 reasons why he needed the train.  Through tears and tantrums, he was relentless.

My children teach me so much about my faith walk.  Countless times, they have made "the faith of a child" so vivid for me.  This lesson is a little different. 

Am I passionate about my relationship with God?  Do I have relentless faith?  Do I hold on to my hope when times are tough and my tears are abundant? Am I persistent in my prayers, especially when my spirit is weak and I have no more words to pour out of my soul?

In 1 Thessalonians 5:17, Paul urges us to "Pray without ceasing".  Pray without STOPPING.  In my day-to-day life, this is pretty near impossible.  From 5:45 am to 9 pm (okay 24 hours a day), I am expected to be ON; tending to the needs of my family and home.  Getting on my knees before God in prayer is not something I can do with regularity throughout the day.

How do I integrate "pray without ceasing" into my every day crazy?  I love the way this verse is explained here: To pray without ceasing is having "an attitude of God-consciousness and God-surrender that we carry with us all the time. Every waking moment is to be lived in an awareness that God is with us and that He is actively involved and engaged in our thoughts and actions."  

As with most everything in the Bible, God isn't as interested in what we are doing physically, but spiritually.  His main goal is changing our hearts, our attitudes, and our relationship with Him above anything else.

In my life, I have noticed:

1 - Prayer does not ensure that I will get what I want.

2 - Prayer does open my heart to a relationship with the One I am praying to.

In my ceaseless praying, if I pray with the attitude of "I need a), b), and c) to happen", I am disappointed EVERY.SINGLE.TIME. Its just like my son begging relentlessly for the train.  If he gets what he is asking for, he will soon be bored with it and move on to begging for something else.

God is pretty wise to our ways.  When we constantly petition for the things we want, without joy, thanksgiving, or an attitude change, it prohibits building our relationship with him and we will never be satisfied.  It feels like hitting a roadblock, with no way around.

Believe me, I know.

I fall into this trap so frequently.  Well, God didn't deliver, so what's the use?  My prayers aren't paying off.

Then I am reminded, ever so gently, that my focus on the prayer and not on the one who hears my prayer.  When I shift my focus to Him and begin to pray, ceaselessly, with a spirit of joy, it opens my heart to a deeper relationship with Him. I am blessed EVERY.SINGLE.TIME.

Here praying without ceasing is compared to breathing.  We don't have to think to breathe.  Our body just does it for survival.  When our prayers are in a "gimme gimme gimme" mode and not of joy or thanksgiving, it almost feels like holding your breath.  Waiting for a, b, and c to happen.  For me, it feels more like I am gasping for breath.

Thankfully, Jesus taught us how to pray, drawing our breath in and out.  In Matthew 6:9-13, Jesus gave us the way we should pray.  It is called "The Lord's Prayer" for a reason.  I learned the fancy, King James Version, growing up, but I really like this translation in The Message:

Our Father in heaven,
Reveal who you are.
Set the world right;
Do what’s best—
as above, so below.
Keep us alive with three square meals.

Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others.

Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.

You’re in charge!

You can do anything you want!

You’re ablaze in beauty!

This is what I have to remind myself: 

Acknowledge God for who he is.  Remember what he has done. Trust in what he will do.

He is God. 
He has already done great things.
He will continue to do great things.

It's not about me.  It's not about what I want. It's all about Him and what he will do.  

Every moment, every day, without ceasing.

Be RELENTLESS today.

Mom Flip-out Moment

I always knew I had it in me.  I'm not so naive to think that I would never be that mom.  After having kids, you see the worst form of yourself and typically know what you are capable of.  As it is my goal to make you feel less alone in your parenting journey, I feel compelled to share the following event with you.  You're welcome.

Remember in "A Christmas Story" (a classic movie I never fully appreciated until I was grown) when Ralphie blamed his use of the f-bomb on his friend Flick?  Ralphie's mom proceeded to call Flick's mom and tell her of his misdeed.  All you can hear on the other end of the phone was Flick's mom screaming, "WHAT?  WHAAT?  WHAAAT?"  Her head was clearly spinning around as she proceeded to do who-knows-what to Flick.  This was me.  Two days after Christmas.  Two days after the most glorious day of peace and joy of the year.

It would be my son that would be the star of this story.  Christian is the only boy out of 3 girls.  He thinks of things the girls would have never thought of.  Therefore, it would be my son that would make my head spin around in all of my fine parenting glory.  It would be my son that would announce to me, first thing in the morning as I sat down to breakfast, "I cut Marleigh's hair this morning!"  

I glanced down at my 2-year-old, who had yet to have her first haircut (let that sink in) and observed that besides her bed head, she had in fact had a hair cut by her almost 5-year-old brother.  

Let the  "WHAT?  WHAAT?  WHAAAT?" head-spinning commence.  I flew upstairs to his room as I knew this had occurred prior to the rest of the family getting out of bed.  In his trash can, I found a nice little auburn, curly-haired pile of trimmings.

I was hysterical.  There were tears from Christian and Marleigh.  There was sobbing and rocking by me, in complete shock and trauma,  My older girls' eyes were about to pop out of their heads, as I am pretty sure the level of emotions coming from their dear mama was a never seen before experience.  

DISCLAIMER: Christian has the superhuman ability to scale walls, cabinets, and counters.  He's like a mini Spiderman with his upper body strength.  While I try to keep items like scissors out of his reach, I know that he can find anything and everything despite the attempt to hide them.  

Upon realizing that I was making the ordeal exponentially worse, I knew I needed to separate myself from my son until I could talk to him calmly without wanting to do who-knows-what to him (don't judge, if you haven't been there as a parent, you WILL just WAIT).  As my husband lovingly dealt with my son, I left...FOR TWO HOURS.

What did I do?  The one thing everyone does early on a Sunday morning to calm themselves down from a hysterical frenzy; I sat in a parking lot, crying and waiting for the car wash to open so I could clean and vacuum my mini-van.  (There was driving and a trip to the grocery store in there too.  My van wasn't SO dirty that it took two hours to clean.  It only took 1 1/2 hours.)    

My car is never so clean as when I clean in an angry rage.  In the end, I had a sparkling car (that would only last for the rest of the day), my hysterics were mostly gone, and I sort of liked the boy again.  

I returned home, went straight to Christian, hugged him and asked, "Why did you cut Marleigh's hair?


"It was in her face" MR. LOGICAL


"What does Mommy do when her hair is in her face?"


"You put a bow in it." OF COURSE.


So, what can we all learn from this massive parenting fail?


Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  You will have a flip-out moment, I promise, either now when your babies are young, I shudder to think what the teenage years will bring.  You hug, you apologize, and try to appreciate the new mullet that your son has given your baby girl as her first haircut.  

Good thing she is so stinkin' cute.  
  

An Illuminated Path

As I stepped on the path, it seemed way too familiar.  Looking down, I can see remnants of my footprints from before.  Some prints are deep, with well-etched crevices.  Others are merely outlines of each faltering step taken.  In some places, I can see my hand prints; where I had tripped, fallen and caught myself, using my hands to steady and rise again.

As I lifted my eyes to focus on my familiar surroundings ahead, I noticed many places that looked identical to what I had experienced before.  Some places, however, were overgrown, hiding what once was there.  I took a deep breath allowing the memories of this path begin to overtake me, again feeling the need to gasp for breath.

As my gaze turned upward, I noticed something was drastically different this time. LIGHT. Darkness surrounded me before, causing me to lose my footing and fall to the ground.  At that time, I couldn't see the path ahead, but fumbled through each step, grasping for anything that could guide me.

Now, there is light and I begin to walk.  The places on the path that caused me to fall before, were simply areas where I needed to pick my foot up a little more and step over the obstacles in my way. As I walked, the light broke through the overgrown places causing me to remember that though I was physically here before, I am not the same woman who walked this path years ago.  The light shined in places that illuminated the changes in me.  I am somehow stronger, more resilient, grace-filled and hopeful.  The light, God's work in my life, completely changed how this well-worn path appeared. His light gave me a completely different view of where I was and where I am now; fully equipping me to walk this path again. I walk more upright this time, not grasping in the darkness.  I am holding on to Him as my guide.  It's not easy, this journey, He never promised that I wouldn't go down this path again.  He never said the hurt and pain wouldn't resurface.  But this time, His light will guide me through the once dark hallows of this life and I will again, come through it, a bit brighter.