Chapter 12 - "Memories of Mother"

It would only seem fitting, in a book about my “kids” to include a chapter about my Mother. And today as I thought about her on what would have been her 91st birthday, I felt a wave of inspiration, as I combed my hair and wept over her memory.

In order to convey my emotions, and why I’m feeling this way, let me set the atmosphere: I’m all alone in a house that once vibrated with the happy noise of eight children. One of my favorite memories of my children, now scattered all over Mexico, and the rest of the world, oddly enough include Daddy and Mother, and their annual visits every Christmas. Against the desires of my brothers, they preferred road trips to flying. They loved each other probably more in their final years of marriage than they did when they were newlyweds. Rarely did anything (outside the death of Daddy) separate them. So these road trips across México, literally from the northern part to the “uttermost” as I used to call the southern-most state of México, served as a get-away for the love birds, stopping at their leisure, and leaving usually before daylight.

But now I’m alone this morning with my thoughts and emotions and tears. They’re both in Heaven, but this being the celebration of Mother’s birthday, I’ll write about her.

I attribute my emotions this morning to my personality. If you know me now, what I’m about to say is going to surprise you: I was a little introvert when I was a child, and even as a teenager, I was shy and a bit insecure, probably because during the crucial years of my teens, until I was 16, I was a “preacher’s kid,” and the “normal” kids at school never let me forget that.

But my earliest memory of the manifestation of my tender emotions was the day Johnny (his real name, honest!) passed me a note. We were in second grade, and back in those days, you were 7 years old and just learning to read. (There were no kindergartens! Mommies stayed home with babies, instead of carting them off to daycare, or “professionals” who are paid to do what old fashioned, stay at home moms should have the joy of doing. Who cared that Susie was 5 and still couldn’t read. That’s what bedtime and Mommies were for.) So imagine my delight when I opened the sheet of paper, and read, “LOOK. Love, Johnny.” And drawn in the middle of the two “o’s” were two eyeballs. So I looked back at him, and he threw me a kiss.

Unfortunately, the teacher also looked up at that precise moment.

This story would be totally irrelevant, except for what happened next, and my response: She made us stay in during recess. My little tender heart was broken, and I began to weep. I had never, never been punished in the entire two years of my attending school, and had never even been called down because of bad conduct. I cried all the way through recess, and I’m sure my teacher thought twice before she punished another little girl.

But through my tears, and my broken heart, visions of Mother came to my mind…at home caring for my little brother, hanging out clothes, and I had broken her heart. I would be a shame and a disgrace to her, and a huge disappointment. I longed for her to be there with me, so I could feel her arms around me, and tell me everything was going to be all right. How dare that teacher hurt my mother like that! I almost hated Johnny for breaking her heart. Mean ole Johnny, mean ole teacher! I was ready to go home, and I wanted my Daddy to come for me.

That childish emotion is exactly the one I felt this morning when I was thanking the Lord for giving me a wonderful Mother…thoughts of how I had hurt her. “She’s in Heaven, and I can imagine her being so happy with Daddy and Jesus. Does she know what’s going on down here on earth? Do saints who have gone before us know of earthy things? And I wept and wept. When she was here, her children were her joy and her delight. We’re what made her get up every morning after Daddy went to Heaven. Our visits were the highlight of her year, and would it break her heart to know the times I’ve done things that would have broken her heart, were she here?

“Dear God! Are my children going to do things after I’ve gone that would break my heart if I were here? What can I do now to make sure that what they do isn’t just to make me happy, and once I’m gone they’ll change?”

Am I living in a gilded cage, thinking that they love each other? That they love me? That they love the Lord?

What could I have done differently when they were little to avoid the conflicts between adult children?

I don’t know.

Raising children, good children, is a lot like Salvation: it’s all by grace, not of works lest any Mom should boast.

So I sit here this morning, remembering Mother, and the godly heritage she left my brothers and me, and our children, and our grandchildren, loving and serving the Lord, and I think, “She must have done something right.”

Chapter 11 - "When They Don't Call You Blessed"

I hope this book would not sound “preachy” or even “teachy.” But looking back over my years as a mom, and the things I’ve gone through, I feel sorta like a person who has survived cancer, who knows what made me whole, and who must share that remedy with others; and to fail to do so would be a sin, or at the least heartless.

And since I’m writing a book, I must discipline myself to sit down at appointed times, and ask the Lord to help me share some experience in my life that is publish-worthy. If I weren’t writing a book, I probably would never have the opportunity of sharing these things with you. As I prayed while writing my book, Tom and Me, I must ask the Lord to help me to be open and honest without being indiscreet. As I write this very difficult chapter, I’ve already prayed that prayer. So here goes…

There are Scriptures in the Bible that I will never understand, although I’ve searched through commentaries, taken notes in every sermon I’ve ever sat through…unless, of course I was in Ukraine. I don’t speak Russian, and even if I did, I could never write what I understand.

Two of those verses are Proverbs 31:28, “Her children arise up and call her blessed;” and Proverbs 22:6, “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” Based on my belief that the Bible is the Word of God, and it should be the foundation on which we build our lives, our marriages, and yes, train our children, I cannot deny either one of those Scriptures.

But I don’t understand them, and I won’t even try to explain them.

One of the hardest questions I am asked is: “How can I raise my children to serve the Lord?” So my answer is usually this: “If your children serve the Lord, it’s by the grace of God.”

And I tell you, Mom, the same: You raise children just like you do anything else. You read your Bible every day, be faithful in church, be submissive to your husband, and ask the Lord to help you meet the challenges of the day, which include those of being a mom. Just do right, and trust the Lord to make of those children what He would have them to be.

When children don’t call their moms blessed, which to me means serving her God; and when they DO indeed depart from the way they should go, does this mean that:
1) She’s not a virtuous woman?
2) She didn’t train them in the way they should go?

I don’t know. I won’t attempt to answer those questions. But believe me, I’ve been there, and I’m going to suggest some things first of all for the mother of young children, and then for moms who are there right now. Your teenager or your adult children have turned their backs on God, although they were raised in church, and you’ve done your best to train them in the ways of the Lord.

It’s easy to see why the sons of David and Eli didn’t call their fathers “blessed.” They made so many mistakes. We’re not going to mention their role as fathers, but if you like, you could read I Samuel 4, and II Samuel 12, and see the children of these men of God. David and Eli were successful in many areas of their lives, except in the most important one. We don’t have to ask ourselves why their sons didn’t serve God, why they were murderers, why they committed the lowest sins. The reason is obvious when we study the lives of these two fathers.

But I personally know women who are much better mothers then I am. They seem to be the Virtuous Woman herself described in Proverbs 31:10-31, and yet their children don’t serve the Lord.

I don’t have all the answers, but without being “preachy” here goes:

I. Mommie #1: You know all there is to know about mothering. You think this is easy. “If I just make it through potty-training; through homeschooling or homework; just wait until they leave for college…” I’ve been there, secretly planning my post-baby days. Come on, don’t tell me you never look at a motherless woman, and long for her freedom. The thoughts of getting to eat everything on your plate when you go out to eat; going to bed at night, and knowing that the next sound you hear will be that of your alarm clock, and not, “Mommie, I gotta…” I’ve been there, and it’s no fair that I can’t write this book and be self-righteous, if you can pretend you’ve never had thoughts like that. But there is one huge advantage you have over us older moms whose children have already left home: you still don’t get phone calls that turn your life upside down. You lie down at night, and know your baby is in the next room. You still have control over what she puts into her mouth, his playmates, and what he wears. So what can you do so that someday that child will rise up and call you blessed? What can you do to make sure, or at least do your part, to create a desire in the little one to serve the God you love?

There are at least two fathers in the Bible, whose children rebelled against them; these were wonderful fathers.

The story of the first Father Whose children didn’t call them “Blessed,” is found in Genesis 2:16 and 17, and He was God Himself. “And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.” God placed boundaries. The word “commanded” indicates that there were certain rules for man. He was the perfect Father. He made the first man and the first woman perfect. But they didn’t make Him happy. They didn’t bless Him. They disobeyed Him. God protected them, by placing boundaries around them in the beautiful Garden of Eden. He gave them some orders, and they disobeyed them. We should place boundaries around our children when they’re small. Just as God had to punish His children, taking them out of the Garden of Eden, we must punish our children while they’re still young, when they go outside the boundaries we have set for them. When a mother lets her child do anything he wants to do, she is preparing him to rebel against authority…his teachers at school, the policeman, the pastor, and God Himself. It’s much harder for a child who is rebellious, who has always been allowed to have her way, to one day accept Christ than for that child who has been taught to obey, and to respect authority. And consequently, that could be the reason for his some day not “calling you blessed.”

II. Mommie #2: that’s me, and you if your children are teenagers or adults.
The second father we find in the Bible whose son didn’t call him “blessed” is found in Luke 15:11-32. What we learn from him, we can observe in verse 20. “And he arose, and came to his father, But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.”

A. When your child doesn’t call you blessed, turning their back on God, keep the lines of communication open. Never allow open sin, or a lifestyle unpleasing to God under your roof. But never, never close the door of your house, much less of your heart to your child. This father didn’t require his son to repent before he took him back. He was waiting for him. Never allow sin to be committed in your house, but precious Mom, when you say to your son or to your daughter, “I won’t speak to you until you return to God,” or “Until you confess your sin, and serve God, you can’t come into my house,” you’re hindering the Lord, through the Holy Spirit, to work in his heart. This could be the cause for their hardening their heart, and could even lead to suicide or to committing worse sins than those he is guilty of now. Your son knows you don’t approve of his lifestyle; your daughter knows the grief she’s causing you; they know they’re breaking God’s heart. You don’t need to place barriers between them and you in order for them to know that you don’t approve of their sin. Open your arms and your heart to that wayward son, your rebellious daughter; don’t reject them.

B. When your children don’t call you blessed, turn them loose. This might seem like a contradiction to the previous point, but it’s not. While you should open the doors of your house and your heart, wait until they knock. The father in our story didn’t go looking for his son. He left him alone, so that in God’s time he would return. In many cases, it’s best not to call your son, don’t send your daughter messages, or e-mails. She knows where you are; your son is the one who left, not you. Don’t tread where only the Holy Spirit can work. Don’t try to do the work of the Holy Spirit. Give Him all the space He needs.

C. When your children don’t call you blessed, bathe them in prayer. Commit your children to the Lord many times a day. Don’t you think this father prayed throughout the day for his son? I think he did. I believe he prayed believing, and he expected the Lord to answer his prayers, because apparently he knew the moment he returned. Probably every day he went out to watch the road that led to his house, and while he watched, he prayed. While he walked, he prayed. While he ate, he prayed. While he worked, he prayed. You don’t have time to pray? Do it while…every time you go to the bathroom, kneel down and pray for your child. Pray while…you wash dishes; while…you iron; while….you wait for the red light, or in the doctor’s office. While…you make your bed. If he’s far away from you, ask the Lord to put good people in his path, a Christian, a pastor, a missionary who will encourage your son or your daughter. Ask Him to keep all the bad people out of his path, all the negative people far from him. Pray believing that God will bring your child back to Him. I believe that father prayed believing. He wasn’t surprised when he saw him, even though he was still afar off.

D. It may sound strange, but sometimes our children don’t call us blessed because of our own sins. Do you have unconfessed sins? Is there something that isn’t consistent with your life at church and at home? Are you real? Are you transparent? Are you consistent? Do you criticize the preacher, and then call on him to counsel your daughter? If you criticize him in front of your children, why do you expect them to listen to him? If you’re a young mother, your children haven’t turned their backs on God. But prepare yourself for the day when you may be shedding tears over a rebellious son, a daughter who has dishonored you, who doesn’t call you blessed. I never prepare my lessons with a haughty spirit. I’ve never considered myself the authority on child rearing. Quite the contrary, when I prepare my lessons, most of the time it’s because I need to apply what I teach. Once a year I take spiritual inventory on Mother’s Day. When my children were small, I asked the Lord to show me anything that could be a hindrance for my children to serve Him. But now that they’re married, I still ask Him to help me to be the mother in law my sons in law need in order to be the husbands and fathers my daughters and grandchildren need them to be. I ask Him to help me to be the example of what a mother in law should be to my daughters in law, so that they can be the wives and mothers my sons and grandchildren need them to be. Every morning I pray this prayer for myself: “Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” Psalm 139:23, 24.

Chapter 10 - "When You Can't Be There"

My first clue that something was wrong should have been the voice at the other end of the line: “Hi, Mom.”

Jolene Sloan and I are different in many ways…she’s tall and slender, and beautiful and talented, and very creative. But we’re alike in one way: we don’t do phone calls. Except for birthdays, I never call my children.

And that’s what alerted me that beautiful Spring morning…which was late evening in Ukraine where David and Jolene are missionaries. I was visiting in the home of my children, Joel and Margaret, and their two little girls. What a perfect retreat for a writer, and grandmother! Several years ago they built a little guest apartment behind their house on the New Mexico desert, and it is close enough to feel like I’m spending time with my children, but private enough to provide peace and quiet.

There’s a lovely porch that my son, Tommy built a couple of years ago. So when I answered my cell phone, I walked outside not only to get a better connection with the other continent, but also to enjoy the beautiful fresh air and sunshine.

“Mom, I need you to pray for David. He’s very sick. He hasn’t been able to eat for several days. We know you can’t do anything, being so far away, but he wanted me to call you and ask you to pray for him.”

My mother heart sank. For Jolene to call me was major, and for a few seconds I panicked. Now, my son is already in his 30’s. He has a very intelligent wife, super capable of caring for her sick husband, their four children, juggling home schooling with housework, (which can sometimes mean doing without electricity and running water, staying warm by a little portable chimney), is expert in walking out of their village to the highway with four little ones in tow, and catching a bus into town, (they don’t have a vehicle of their own) and she is fluent in Russian. What on earth could I possibly have done had I been there?

Well, apart from making a pot of my potato soup, and spoon-feeding him, nothing.

Or was there something I could do?

What can you do when you can’t be with your children?

I remember when our 8 children were still home…half of them were already teenagers… lying in bed one night and thinking, “What am I going to do when my children leave home for college? What’s it going to be like, lying in bed not knowing if they’re sick, or lost, or hungry? What am I going to do if they call and need me? What am I going to do, how am I going to feel, how am I going to cope when I can’t be there?”

That beautiful morning, standing out on the porch, there was absolutely nothing I could do for David.

Or was there?...

In my helplessness, actually there were several things that I was able to do:

1. As soon as Jolene hung up, I went back into my little apartment, alone, and wept. “God, why are you doing this? What possible purpose could there be in this senselessness? How is Jolene going to cope? How must she feel right now? What did I do wrong? Where did I fail them? What if he dies?...” Those are all the thoughts that ran through my mind…and many, many more. I’d like to tell you that the first thing I did was to fall on my knees, and commit him to the Lord. But I’m like you, if you’re a mother! I despaired. But only for a few minutes. Despair is all right, because we’re human. Don’t look back over times like this and beat yourself over the head because you despaired. That’s human, and especially mother-human. That’s your mother instinct kicking in, and it’s part of our job description. Let the grief, the despair, the questions, do their job. I sometimes think God allows these feelings of helplessness to overwhelm us, so we can be just that…helpless. Sometimes He wants us to totally rely on Him, and just find comfort in the shelter of His arms. I remember one time many, many years ago…We lived in a little village, and I don’t know the nature of my despair, but I had done everything I could do…probably had to do with the discipline of one of my children, who were all four very, very little at that time. I put them down for their nap, and lay down totally exhausted. And just as real as I used to feel Daddy’s arms around me, I sensed the Lord enfolding me in his arms, and whispering, “It’s all right…I have everything under control. You just take a nice long nap, and when you wake up, you’ll feel better.” What precious comfort! He wasn’t angry with me because I had despaired. That’s where He wanted me. That’s the only place I could have been, in order for Him to have comforted me. The “all-things-working-together-for-good” meaning to this senselessness will make perfect sense some day. Don’t beat yourself over the head for being a Mom.

2. I was able to pray, and to commit David and Jolene into His care. I don’t think I really believed in the power of prayer until this year. But I’ve seen too many answered prayers not to know that God answers prayer. I’ve probably prayed more this year than I ever have. I pray while I’m driving, while I’m walking to my gate at the airport, while I’m shopping, in the shower, while I do my hair, and so for me to incorporate it into that Spring morning was pretty natural. I prayed through my tears that morning, but sometimes I also pray while I’m happy. I don’t know if I lack the discipline required to spend an hour on my knees, or if I have the need to be busy while I pray, but I find it much easier to pray while I’m doing something mechanical, routine, that doesn’t require a lot of brain activity. I pray for my children all day long, when I take bathroom breaks from my e-mailing, when I run across the drive from church to leave my Sunday school things in my room. I pray for special Birthday friends I know, and for a friend who is in surgery. I pray for a couple who is having marital problems, and for a mother who has deserted her four children. Praying is as much a part of my life as breathing or brushing my teeth. It also keeps my mind occupied with positive activity, instead of worrying, or having a critical spirit. Praying keeps me out of trouble, and keeps me focused.

3. I shared my burden with others. I’m not a phone caller, but I am an e-mailer, so I sat down at my computer and wrote to two dear friends who have prayer chains in their churches; one is a pastor’s wife, and the other a church secretary. By the next evening, David was able to go to church, and teach his Institute classes. When you can’t be there, share your burden with friends. A word of caution: I know there are burdens too private to share. Don’t ever share private burdens that would expose the personal lives of others. They usually have a way of revealing themselves sooner or later, but don’t you do the exposing. That could cause more harm than good. Ask yourself, “By sharing this prayer request, will I have to answer questions stirred up by curiosity?” Don’t set yourself up to have to cover up things that shouldn’t be exposed. While I believe in sharing one another’s burdens, and I believe in the power of prayer, sharing with others shouldn’t turn into gossiping. I have a ladies’ prayer meeting every week, and I’m always careful to make sure these “prayer request” times don’t turn into gossip sessions.

4. Keep serving the Lord as if your prayer were already answered. It’s so hard to “move the body” when our hearts are burdened. It’s hard to keep the right focus, the right spirit. Our mother nature wants to crawl in bed and pull the cover over our head, and soak ourselves in worry. I’ve learned something these past few months: I’m learning to enjoy what God has given me at the moment. For example, if I’m worrying and fretting over David and Jolene, I can’t be a blessing to Joel and Margaret. If I carry around my burden, not only am I not helping David and Jolene, I’m no fun to be around. I’ll look back over the precious time with Joel and Margaret, and regret not enjoying the time I could have spent with them. That’s where trust and faith come in. If I’ve prayed, and cast my burden on the Lord, and shared it with others, I can serve the Lord more effectively, and I can be a blessing to those nearest me.

5. Right now, I’m going through a very difficult time with a relationship with someone I love very, very much. I’ve been hurt, and I fear I’ve hurt someone unknowingly. I have to commit that hurt to the Lord many times a day, and not let that spill over onto my relationship with others, or into my ministry. I’m trying to let that hurt teach me lessons I’d never thought of before. And in turn, I’m teaching those lessons to others. That’s what I’m doing right now. The times in my children’s lives when they were going through difficult times, and I couldn’t be there have taught me something, and I’m sharing those lessons learned with you. You don’t have to be a writer or a teacher to share things you’ve learned in life’s experiences. Keep a journal with your Bible, and after your Bible reading every morning, jot down things you learned the day before. You’d be surprised how many lessons life teaches us just by simply living. “Don’t interfere with God’s plan,” is a good one. If you can’t be with your children, it’s probably part of God’s plan…your little one is in surgery; that’s a toughie; you’re a single Mom, and it’s your ex’s turn to have your daughter this weekend. WOW!! You could teach me something there! What did you learn about letting her go? You can’t be there on the first day of school…or you shouldn’t be there. What about leaving that newborn in the nursery your first time back at church? I’ve been there, sister.

And I’m a survivor. And you can be, too!

Chapter 9 - "Did I Miss It?"

(I wrote this chapter several weeks ago, and even as I sit here, David and Jolene are at the airport in a distant city. In one hour and 15 minutes, they will be flying back to their field of service. I dedicate this to them, and to all the David’s and their moms.)

I watched carefully the Van ahead of me, because David, my son was driving. He and his family were en route to the airport, from where he would be flying abroad in a few hours. As I drove along, tears filled my eyes: I would soon be separated from my son, not only for the next ten days, but from him, Jolene, and my four grandchildren, as they would soon be returning to their mission field. Two years will then separate us.

And I wondered…did I miss it? Did I miss the fun times we’ve had together? Did I miss your smile, and the way you walk, and the look in your eyes as you hold your newborn son?

Am I too busy with my own thoughts of how I’m going to meet deadlines, and make reservations, to notice how smart you are? Will I look back and wonder what was the punch line of the joke you told me Thursday?

Did I miss the meaning of your coming into my room before daylight every morning while I was reading my Bible, like you did when you were a little boy? Or will I remember my mind wandering to the list of things to do while you were sharing your plans of the day with me?

Did I miss it? Did I miss your grin when I sped out of the hotel parking lot, when I was supposed to be following you? And your call, “Mom, we’re still at the hotel.” Did I miss the humor of the moment, or being annoyed because I messed up our travel plans? The joy of the moment is what I have learned to be thankful for.

The joy of knowing you’re on your way to a challenging adventure…not the worrying about your safety and protection. I’ll cast that on the Lord, and just think of your desire to serve Him.

I’ll bask in the joy of knowing the supreme sacrifice you’re making to be away from your family. I’ll feel, at the same time, pride and peace.

I won’t miss it any more, from this day forward. I’ll put aside my fears, and my doubts, and my computer, and my phone, and learn to bask in the sunshine, and feel the coziness of being snowed in.

I’ll not complain about things like electronics, and delayed flights, and missed appointments. I’ll condition myself to just enjoy leisurely long afternoon naps, and dessert and coffee, and noisy grandbabies.

I won’t miss it anymore. Who cares that I never get online ever again, if I can keep the lines of communication open between you and me. I’ll not miss the honor of being your mother, and the peace of knowing that you can share your burdens as well as your plans for the future. I’ll not miss that anymore.

It may be too late to bring back lost joys. It may be too long to remember the story you told me while I was concentrating on my shopping list.

But there’s today. And this evening when you call me to tell me, “Mom, I’m fixing to board my plane,” I’ll take off my glasses so I can see your face across the miles, and imagine your smile and your excitement as you once again embark on another adventure, serving the Lord.

I don’t know what the future holds. But I want to share the dream you’re dreaming now, of souls you’re dreaming will be saved.

I’ll miss you these next few days, and after that the next two years.

But I won’t ever again miss the moments we share, and I’ll read over and over your e-mails, and your articles, and I’ll hold on to your words.

Your little-boy-days are gone, and I wonder, “Did I miss it? Your jeans got washed, but did I notice the domino-stacks of old cassette tapes you’d line up around the legs of the dining table, down the hall, and then topple the first one over to watch them fall for miles in your imagination?

Like the toppling tapes, that’s how swiftly those little-boy years have gone by. You don’t dream about toy cars any more. Your dreams hold a more significant meaning: the destiny of souls.

So although I’ll miss you, and Jolene, and the babies, I’ll not miss remembering all the precious memories we’ve made together these past four months, and those that are still in the making.

I miss you and love you more than life.

Mom, Nahum 1:7

Chapter 8 "Who Shall Lead Them?"

Chapter Eight
“Who Shall Lead Them?”
“But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the Kingdom of heaven.”

Second only in importance to their first birth, or maybe even first, is the second birth of our children. I’m referring to their salvation…their spiritual birth. The Bible says, “Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Those are the words of Jesus spoken to a man, Nicodemus.

This is not supposed to be a preachy book, and I certainly won’t lecture here. But the most important thing our child will ever do is to make sure when they die, they will go to Heaven.

In the past two months, three of my grandchildren have received Jesus as their Savior. So maybe this is what prompted me to write a chapter on the Salvation of our eight children.

In my way of thinking, God created woman to bear children. He formed her in such a unique way, not only physically, but also emotionally and psychologically, that her very nature enables her to care for her children exactly the way God needs a child to be cared for. And in no way another person can care for that child. There are circumstances, for example, when a mother dies giving birth that someone else must take over this awesome responsibility. I know personally many, many adoptive mothers who love their children as much as if she had brought them into the world.

But there is something in every child given to him that only his mother gave him. I often tell women, “God tailor-made you for your child. You’re exactly what he needs.”

I never attempt to set down patterns or footprints in this book for you to follow, because my children are different from yours. Not two of my eight children are alike. They have different needs, even now as adults, and they certainly had different needs when they were children, and weak areas in their lives that differed from those of their seven siblings.

You ask for wisdom to take care of the unique needs of your children. Read James 1:5, and ask God for wisdom. Read a Proverb every morning before starting your mothering tasks. I do, even though my children are all grown now, and have children of their own. But you never stop being a mother.

While our children are different, with different needs, and differing personalities, there is one need every child has. And that is the need of a personal Savior…a need to prepare himself for eternity.

I’m going to say something that perhaps you will disagree with. It’s not up to you to lead your children to the Lord. It’s your responsibility to train them in such a way, that when they reach the “age of accountability” they will respond to the Holy Spirit’s calling.

I am going to be very open in this chapter, and a bit controversial. We have such idealistic dreams as parents, don’t we? We envision a lot. I remember when our second child, Joel Edward was born, Tommy was almost two. I always had visions of gathering my children around me, donned in jammies, sweet smelling from their baths, and reading to them. I could see them with their little heads against me, hungry to hear more about the book I was reading to them.

To my dismay, it didn’t happen…at least not right away. Joel was about two years old, and I had already put baby Philip to bed. We lived in a little village where absolutely nothing happened after 7:00. That night I purposed in my heart to carry out that vision. I had three little boys, and now was a perfect time to start making my dream a reality.

So I sat down on our couch in our little tiny mobile home, opened a book, and said, “Come here, boys, I’m going to read you a story before you go to bed.” Tommy crawled up on my right, and Joel grabbed a book of his own, and crawled up on my left. Undaunted, I plowed ahead, reading, even though I knew their baby minds still couldn’t grasp all the words on the page. I noticed Joel being a little rough with his book, so I said, “Joel, don’t tear the book. You should be nice to your books. Did you know books are our friends? One of these days, you’re going to learn to read, and you will have many, many books for your friends.” He took his book in his chubby little hands, raised it up, and said, “Well, Howdy!”

And so it is with our children’s salvation. We dream of the day we can show them how when they die, they can go to Heaven. But don’t get ahead of the Holy Spirit. If you do your part…reading the Bible to them every day, even before they can read and write, keeping them in church, being a Godly example, making sure the people who touch their lives are Godly people, praying with them, teaching them to memorize Scripture…you can trust the Holy Spirit to touch their little hearts when they come to that age.

A few days ago, I was out soul winning. I came upon a young man in his twenties. I said, “Do you know when you die that you’re going to Heaven?” He said, “When I was 8 years old, I was baptized in a Baptist Church. But I had no idea what was going on. My mother took me by the hand during the invitation, and pulled me down to the front. There was a big baptistery on the platform, and what could I do in front of 500 people? I was only 8 years old. That’s why I don’t think a child should be baptized until they’re 14 years old.”

While I felt sorry for this confused young man, I don’t think we can really put an age on when a child comes to the age of accountability. But it’s a long, long time before he reaches his teen years, I’ll guarantee you.

You should be very, very careful who teaches your children. Two of our children were presented the plan of salvation before they were ready to be saved. These were good people. But they tried to force a decision before the Holy Spirit had worked in their little hearts. We never pressured our children into being saved. But they were saturated with the Word of God. We gathered around our table every morning before breakfast, and had Bible reading and Scripture memorization. We never missed church. We did our best to put a guard around them, as far as sinful activities were concerned. But we never pressured our children into making a profession of faith.

All of our children are saved. Afterward, my husband baptized each of our children in different rivers in Chiapas. I felt sorry for this young man a few days ago, as I explained to him that baptism is a work. It isn’t part of our salvation. But I’ve heard my husband say too many time to remember how many, that “if you’re saved, and don’t want to get baptized, I don’t believe you’re saved.” I believe a desire to be baptized after salvation, is as natural as wanting to wear a wedding band after you get married.

Bringing a baby into the world physically is an awesome experience. But it’s as natural as breathing. So also, leading a child to a spiritual re-birth should be natural, and a wonderful experience for us as parents.

MY KIDS AND ME - Chapter 7

“The Common and Ordinary.
The Schedules and Routines”

I am writing this book shortly after my 65th birthday. I have eight children, and twenty-eight grandchildren. At the moment of this writing, I have been alone for almost three weeks. I am taking a brief respite from work and travels, and am enjoying being able to make my own schedules and establish my own routine.

Ordinarily, I am with one or more of my children, their spouse and their children. So there are times when I must “go with the flow,” and keep up with their pace. If I am traveling with my son, David, and his wife, Jolene and their three children…which is the only way I can spend time with them every two years during their visit in America, and before their return to their mission field of Ukraine…I must go on their strict routine and schedules.

When I’m at home in Chiapas, living across the drive from my church, necessitates doing certain things before people arrive in my yard for certain activities.

Even during this luxurious break from my normal routine, I am staying in a mission apartment, so I must comply with certain schedules of the church activities, which I thoroughly enjoy: ladies’ Thursday morning visitation, ladies meetings, and other church activities.

Can one ever say, “I am the sole ruler of my life? I can plan my day how I want, doing exactly what I would like to do, and when, and until I get ready, I’ll not quit?” Will I ever be so independent that I can completely eliminate all interruptions and distractions? I think not.

If that is your dream, as it is mine at times, let me confirm that the happiest person on earth is not the person who has all the money she wants to spend, spending it however she likes, with whomever she pleases. She does not get up at her leisure, and sleep whenever she gets tired.

Even in this brief time that I am at liberty to “do as I please, and go as I please,” I have found myself forming little limitations, routines, and schedules. Not only do I feel more rested than if I had nothing to account for having gotten up in the morning, but I actually have a sense of having accomplished things that I could have otherwise not gotten done had I been surrounded by children and grandchildren. I schedule times for reading, relaxing, and napping. I have a routine for shopping, and doing fun things. I have gone to the library, and browsed through expensive purses and suits, although I haven’t purchased them.

There is something inside us…at least inside me…that demands order…reasons for doing what I do, answers to “what am I doing here, and why am I doing this?”

And so it is with raising children.

I remember when my children were small, I would go to bed at night, and look back over my day with disgust. What had I done? I had washed, and cooked and cleaned. I had bathed my children, washed dirty faces and hands before meals. I had put them down for naps, washed out diapers, folded mountains of laundry, and I had made out menus and grocery lists. I had home schooled. All these activities were products of routine and schedule. And I would think, “I just worked and worked all day around my children, and never took time to talk with them, or play games with them, or listen to their stories.” Than I would begin to fantasize about the next day, and how I would change my life: “I’ll get up in the morning, and before I dress, or fix breakfast, or start school, I’ll sit down in the living room floor and play games with them. I’ll leisurely stroll into the kitchen, and have breakfast on the table in twenty minutes. Then before dishes are done, we’ll dress and go out for a walk.”

And on and on my fantasizing would go.

The next morning, just as one would step onto a ramp like the one you put your groceries on at Wal-Mart, or lug your luggage (so that’s where luggage got its name!) onto the ramp at the airport, I would step out of bed, and onto my routine-ramp, and before you knew it, it would be eighteen hours later, and I had nothing more to show for my day than the same things I had performed the day before.

But without my even knowing it, I was creating a nest of security for my children, and for myself. My children knew what to expect. They knew what came next, and what was expected of them, and what they could look forward to. There were certain dishes I prepared on certain days.

The greatest damage the devil can do to your happiness is to convince you that you are doing everything wrong. You’re the reason for all your problems. And many times he convinces us to do things the way everyone else around us is doing it.

From the time our children were born, until they left for college, we had a naptime routine. This didn’t necessarily come at the same time every day, but it did fall into the same slot: immediately after lunch, which at our house was about 2:00. We raised our children in Mexico, where the big meal of the day is served in the afternoon, usually between 2:00 and 3:00. This beautifully allows families to come home from school and work, enjoy a leisurely meal together, and then return to their work or school around 4:00. This is called, Siesta Time, and in my little mountain village, many shops and businesses close down during that time.

This is perhaps why this routine started, but even today, I find myself looking for a quiet corner wherever I am, as soon as lunch is over, and dishes are done, and enjoying a thirty-minute to hour long nap. I won’t go into the benefits of this tradition, because I’m talking about routines and schedules.

But even as I have spent these three weeks alone, I religiously take my delicious naps every afternoon. The great joy of being alone is that I can manage my own naps whenever I like…not while grandbabies are down for their naps.

There is a joy, and sense of fulfillment, a feeling of “doing what I should be doing, when I should be doing it,” in routine and schedules, even at my age. I schedule one hour for writing this book, immediately after my devotions. So my mind is not tangled up in thinking, “I should be preparing my IRS, or making phone calls, or running to Wal-Mart.”

Isn’t this somewhat similar to being in the center of God’s will? While your children are too young to know God’s will, schedule and routine will provide that safety for them, that feeling of being secure in knowing that they’re doing exactly what they should be doing, at exactly the right time. This familiarity with our activities creates this warm soothing comfort zone. There is the looking forward to story time after supper around the table. “This is a tough math problem, but as soon as I’m through, I can work on my spelling words.”

Don’t you remember as a child sitting in a classroom, maybe absorbed in trying to answer a history question, and all of a sudden visions of sitting around the dinner table came to your mind? How comforting, and soothing simple routines provide for us in our times of distress.

Is it possible that my two young friends, Josh and Caleb, even as I write, are somewhere in a prison, with thoughts of their father’s home going only three days ago…and their not being able to be with their families? What could possibly get anyone through such an agonizing experience? Do they have memories of their father doing the familiar, routine things with them? The familiarity of his being behind the pulpit, of always standing for what was right? Could this be their cushion in a cold prison? This warm memory of “Dad always…”

Is it family vacations he always provided for his children, and their families every year? This “looking forward to the familiar?” Tradition, routine, schedules…that’s what brings happy memories, and cozy comfort in cold, dark prison cells.

It was routine that allowed our family to always have devotions around our dining room table. It wasn’t the powerful messages that came out of those routine times. I never had time to prepare anything, and many times my mind wouldn’t have allowed me to organize spiritual thoughts in order to convey them to my children. It was routine that allowed my children to learn Scripture passages from the time they could sit up in a high chair.

Sitting around our table, Bibles in front of us, my little papers with Scriptures to be quoted and the Scripture of the week to be memorized, brought a feeling of “everything’s going to be all right. Everything is where it should be, and everyone is where they should be.” That sense of well-being, and peace comes forth from routine…the same ole same ole.

If I had not cultivated the habit of routine, the “this-comes-after-this” way of life, there are times when I wouldn’t know which way to go when I wake up in the mornings. Perhaps because as people grow older there is this sense of not having enough years, or months or days to get everything done that I would like to accomplish in this lifetime. I feel at times that there is going to be more crammed into the next day, because I didn’t get it all done today. There is a peace, a sense of direction and purpose and accomplishment every morning, as routine guides me through my maze. It’s the turning on the coffee pot and heading for the shower…steps firm and sure that I’m doing at least one thing right this day, and so everything else should fall into place, too. Even though my mind is numb with drowsiness, and I know by looking at the clock, and by the way my body is screaming to “please, one more hour under the covers,” that three hours’ sleep is not enough to perform all the activities that lie ahead. But by the time I’m through with the normal routine, and I sit down with my coffee and Bible, I have a certain feeling of accomplishment, and of being ready for the day.

It’s that turning off the decision maker…knowing exactly what comes next…that frees my mind, once it’s awake, to start praying for my children, and the other people and things and problems I pray for every day.

There is one simple thing I’ve learned in this life: the fewer the decisions, the fewer the mistakes. The fewer the decisions, the more freedom for peaceful thoughts and tranquility. There’s no “shall I start laundry today, or wait one more day?” Well, at my house if it’s Monday or Thursday, it’s laundry day for me. No decision there, so if the electricity goes off on Monday morning, I can put something else in the laundry slot for Monday.

When my children were all at home, I had…please don’t laugh…certain dresses for certain days. I absolutely loved Saturday’s at our house, because that’s the day we didn’t have school, and I got to do only housework that day. I had a yellow dress that I used only on Saturday’s. It was short sleeved, so I had more freedom to roll out the dough for our cinnamon rolls. I never wore that dress on Wednesday’s or Monday’s…just Saturday’s. I don’t particularly like yellow, and I don’t believe it’s my color, but it was given to me, and so I wore it for housework.

So what do yellow dresses have to do with anything? I would have asked the same question before my children left home.

But after they left for college, imagine the comfort in midst of the agonizing homesickness of knowing exactly what I was wearing when my children would think of home on Saturday’s….this yellow cushion to curl up on.

No matter how silly your routine, or how weird yours may be, don’t be afraid of it. It’s tailor-made for you and your children.

MY KIDS AND ME - Chapter 5

“Circles”

Do you ever feel like you’re going in circles? Especially if you’re a Mom?...and especially, especially if you’re a mom to small children?

If you’re old enough to remember the days (“Please, Mom,” I hear my daughters wail, “no ‘good ole days’ stories!”)…please don’t interrupt me…the days when Birdseye was more than a brand of frozen peas. It was a well-known brand of diapers…CLOTH diapers. You know, the kind you soaked in Ivory Flakes, and washed separately. Then you dried them, and folded them in such a manner that they stacked neatly in your diaper stacker, ready to reach for and use at 2:00 a.m. I remember a neat little gadget that amounted to a clothes pin on the end of a plastic stick. When baby would soil her diaper, you would simply pin a clean corner of the diaper to the stick, and swish it around in water until the “soil” was off. Then you didn’t get your hands dirty. And then we went to pre-folded diapers. There were actually diaper services…companies dedicated to laundering your babies’ diapers. “Laundering” has sure come a long way, Baby, in its definition, hasn’t it?

Having spent almost all my mothering days on the mission field, except for the first nine months, I can even remember washing diapers in a creek.

So the term “going in circles” had to have been started by a Mom, because there are days when you finish the last load of laundry, and another one is in the making. A sink full of dishes is washed, and it’s time to start dinner. You get through the last bath, fall into bed, and the vicious CIRCLE begins all over again in just a few hours.

But I learned from my kids that circles are important in raising children. You can look at a circle as something that you run in (horrible grammar, I know!), or you can use circles to your advantage.

I once had a Pastor, Dr. Jim Vineyard, who is the father of my present Pastor, Bro. Tom Vineyard. Dr. Vineyard made a statement one time that I’ve never forgotten. It didn’t contain many words, and I don’t think it was the title of his sermon. But one of the basic things I’ve learned from living 66 years on this earth is this: “Go to church. Listen to the preacher. Do what he says.” I believe with all my heart if we would apply that simple, basic principle to our lives, whether we’re seasoned Grandmas, or new Moms, there would be less need for private counseling sessions, and pastors could spend more time with their families, and dedicating their ministry to winning people to the Lord. That’s what I’ve always tried to do. Just before leaving my house to attend church I pray this simple prayer, “Lord, speak to me through the preaching of your Word. Help me to be obedient to it. I pray that it will convict me, comfort, and guide me, and show me a truth I’ve never seen before. Amen.” We’ve gotten away from basics. We’ve complicated motherhood and marriages. We’ve created false idols. There are no perfect moms or marriages. And here comes the lesson.

Pastor Vineyard said, “Draw a circle. Everything in that circle corresponds to you: your responsibilities. Everything in that circle is what you’re responsible for. Leave everything outside that circle alone. Don’t mess with it.” That was it! But I’ve never, never forgotten it. I’m saying it’s been twenty years since Dr. Vineyard made that statement, and here I am sharing it with you.

You have a circle. Yours is a Mom circle. You might have a big circle which includes wife, Sunday school teacher, and home responsibilities. Have you ever sat down and thought about all your duties? Do you even know them? Maybe that’s why you’re literally “going in circles,” when you should just be “going in circle”…YOUR circle.

I’m going to address the older moms: The older we get, the smaller our “Mom portion” of our circle gets. From the moment our children leave home, whether it’s to study, marry, or follow a career, our circle of mom responsibilities becomes smaller. Other duties may take their place, but once Johnny or Susie leaves home, throw away the diapers.

I would like to write a later chapter on “Hedges,” the “circles” we make for our children. Hedges, like circles, provide security. If a child stays within protective hedges, he’ll be happier. And so it is with circles. When we live within our circle of responsibilities, well-defined duties, we live happier, more fulfilled lives. And I’ll tell you a little secret: so does everyone else. When your child marries, she has her own circle, much like yours. But it’s hers, not yours. I’ve gotten into more trouble by stepping into other circles! Do you know what happens simultaneously when you step into another circle that doesn’t belong to you? You’re stepping OUT of yours. You’re neglecting duties of your own, and attending to those that don’t belong to you. I once heard a pastor say (here I go again!) “The bad thing about sinning is not only the offense against God. When we sin, we’re not doing the good things we should be doing.” And that’s the way it is with circles. If you’re telling your daughter in law, let’s say, how to fix noodles without having them stick together, you’re missing out on the fun of playing with your baby grandson. Leave the noodle circle to her, and remember the grandma-grandson fun is inside your circle, once you become a granny.

Is this simple logic, or what? I think the title of this chapter should kindly be worded, “Keep your nose out of other people’s business.” Nosey grandmas, nosey mother in laws. It’s no wonder we’re classified as no-no’s. It’s because we’re no-no-nosey. And that’s the truth.

Write down everything contained within your circle. Your circle might look like this:

1. Christian: read Bible, pray, witness, attend church.
2. Wife: be submissive, iron shirts, fluff his pillows, cook his breakfast at 6:00, have his coffee and slippers ready when he walks through the door, wear his favorite perfume, put on a clean apron ten minutes before he comes home, etc. etc. etc.
3. Mom: bathe baby, supervise baths, brushing of teeth, monitor bowel movements (I’m very, very serious; do you keep up with that? If you don’t, you’re headed for trouble, and for the prune aisle!) home school, wash, iron, make beds, train child to make bed, wash dishes, train child to wash dishes, potty train, discipline, read Bible, teach Scriptures, and pray with children, etc., etc., etc., etc., etc……………
4. Homemaker: organize, clean, shop, garden, entertain, sew, cook, bake, decorate, pay bills, etc., etc.
5. Church member: teach Sunday school class, study, pray for members, visit members, visit elderly and sick, pray for pastor and family, show hospitality by preparing special meal for pastor, evangelist, etc.

Your circle may include other roles. If you’re a single mom, you may not have a wife role, but you play the father role, as well as Mom…you have to work to support your children, attend ball games, and teach your son to tie his tie.

It is beyond me how on earth a woman has time to step outside her circle, and into that of others. Think about this: has anyone ever annoyed you by telling you what to do? Unless you are under that person’s authority, I’ll tell you why: because they’re not minding their own circle of business. You can’t step inside another person’s circle without stepping outside yours. If that were possible, you would have to link the circles. And guess what you have when you link circles? Did you say chain? Don’t be guilty of chaining someone to you. Don’t step inside your husband’s circle when he lovingly disciplines your child. I won’t say what I’m thinking, but…well, yes I will: did you know that’s one of the causes of homosexuality? Dads with chains in their noses. A little boy begins to see his Dad as a wimp, and that’s the image he forms of himself…a feminine image. I read that somewhere. I didn’t make that up. “You keep your hands off him. He just threw his spinach across the room. What do you expect from a 5 year-old?” And we make our children to have a low esteem of their father, the authority figure in their lives. Take the chain out of Daddy’s nose, and get back into your own circle. Do you want to get a call in the middle of the night from the police station? Then right now, before that 5 year old can shoot a bowl of spinach turned gun, get out of Daddy’s circle. Go into the bedroom and close the door, and beg for mercy for your little son. But don’t interfere. We’re not talking child abuse here. If you know me at all, you know I would never approve of that. But loving discipline is part of Daddy’s circle, and yours, too, when he’s not around.

Did you know God has a circle? Part of God’s circle is calling people into full time service. I know people today who don’t serve the Lord, because Mama stepped into God’s circle when He wanted to use them in a special way when their hearts were young and tender toward Him. Mama discouraged them. I often wonder if Mama wishes she had stayed inside her own circle. God doesn’t push or shove. You want the reins? He won’t fight. But a mama that steps inside God’s circle causes her child to forfeit the peace that comes from living their life inside God’s perfect will. Don’t be guilty of that. I pray this prayer every day, “Help me never to do anything that would discourage him or her from serving You with all their heart.”

Well, you could CIRCLE the globe, and not find a mother who loves her circle more than I do mine. I think I enjoy grandmothering more than I did mothering. Half the work, twice the fun!

HAPPY MOTHERING!...and GRANDMOTHERING!

MY KIDS AND ME - Chapter 4

“Blending Routine and Schedule with Extras”

I am writing this chapter in the bedroom of the home of my daughter, Sarah, and her husband, Jason Knabb. They are missionaries in a very small town, about 4 and a half hours from my home. But I actually wrote the title for this chapter several months ago. Evidently, the Lord has let me wait until now to write about it. And that’s good, because I am a little out of my routine, and I am learning some things this week to teach you.

Today is Saturday, and if I were home, I would be putting my “Sunday” dinner on the table. Since I like to have a special time for my children to come together, even though they are all married, and have their own families, and since our Sunday’s are non-stop, I decided several years ago to have our big get-together family meal on Saturday.

Of course, this is only for my children who live near me, or for occasional visits by the others.

But today I’m working on my book…something I don’t normally do on my regular Saturday routine.

What do you do when you are raising children, and you are away from home…or maybe a special event at church doesn’t allow you to do your normal routine activities? This is something that was constantly a struggle with me.

I can remember, especially, our trips to the States when our children were all at home. These road trips took three long days. Children respond so well to routine and schedules, so I would try to maintain the basic ones that we had at home. For example, we would leave before breakfast. I could, and may, write a chapter on “How to Survive a cross-country road trip with Eight Children.” That would be fun, because it brings back memories of the preparation for the trip. I would pack breakfast food, and as soon as we were loaded up in our 15-passenger van, everyone would take out their Bibles. We would have our normal family devotions, exactly like we would were we around our breakfast table at home. We also did this once we arrived at my mother’s or my brother’s, or the mission apartment, exactly the same way: breakfast stayed on the stove to stay warm, and we would gather around the table; or travel down the road, and go through our Bible routine.

Then after prayer, we would put our Bibles away, and I would “serve” breakfast going down the road. Every one of my eight children who are reading this, are sighing with happy memories, I’m sure…I hope.

That would be followed by personal quiet time, depending on the age of each child. How relaxing to have your “quiet, personal time with the Lord” while traveling. Even now as I travel…not with eight children, and not road trips, but in planes, I love settling in my seat, either at my gate before boarding, or on the plane, and closing out the noise of the world, and reading my Bible, and having my prayer time.

But if I didn’t normally have a routine of reading my Bible, or if my children never had a schedule which allowed us to gather around the breakfast table at home every morning, it would have seemed strange indeed to have family devotions while going down the road. No one would have known what to do, and I couldn’t have instructed them from the front passenger seat.

The same goes with anything you routinely do…walking, exercising, drinking eight glasses of water a day, staying away from sweets…these don’t have to stop just because we’re in different surroundings, with unfamiliar people. Once a routine is established, it’s easier to carry it out than it is to omit it.

I’ve read stories of young men who went off to war, but they still had their quiet time. How did they do this? I don’t know, and I can’t even imagine. But they did, because their routine and schedule was so instilled in them during normal days, that it must have seemed strange not to have carried it out, even on the battlefield.

During the twelve years our eight children attended Bible College, they continued their family devotional time, as much as possible. At one point, five of our children attended at the same time. Now, this is going to seem like bragging here, but it’s not. I am simply trying to show you that the simpler your devotional routine is, the easier it will be for your children to continue it, once they’re away from you and your care. Our second son, Joel, and his four younger siblings would meet in the little living room where the student body would have devotions at 6:00. Joel would meet with his siblings at 5:30, and have the same type of simple routine devotions they used to have around our dining room table. It was always such a delight to their mother, when we would go up to visit with them, and we would gather before breakfast, to hear them quote the Scriptures they had learned on their own…together…routinely.

Had I concocted some weird, complicated deep theological series of lessons, they wouldn’t have known what to do. But it doesn’t take much of a spiritual giant to simply open your Bible, look at the reading schedule…there’s that boring word again…go around the table taking turns reading, go over past Scriptures learned, and repeat the new Scripture for the week, ending with a song and prayer. You can almost do that in your sleep…and Sarah did once. (Sorry, Sarah. There’s not a college student alive that won’t identify with you, Sweetheart.)

Do you think routine does away with spontaneity? Of course not. Routine paves the way for spontaneity. Have you ever walked into your kitchen to prepare a routine, ordinary breakfast of pancakes? You begin to gather the utensils and ingredients, and prepare your griddle. Suddenly, in your relaxed comfort zone, you are inspired to add blueberries, or strawberry yogurt. See what I mean? I’ll guarantee you, all the fancy recipes in your recipe book…at least in mine…start with a basic, routine, normal recipe. I have about five recipes for homemade biscuits, but guess what! They all begin with “sift dry ingredients,” or “cut in shortening until pea-size mixture forms.” From there, they may substitute buttermilk for milk, or suggest adding cheese.

I’m going to venture to make a statement here: the success of any project you will ever undertake in some way involves routine, schedule, doing the same thing over, and over, and over until it is mastered. There will be improvements made, maybe changes for the better. We stand back and analyze, and ask “why didn’t this work? This would work better.” Achievement and routine are best friends, and they walk side by side. Keep with your routine, improve if you must, but don’t get away from anything that produces happy results. And someday, I may be reading a book you wrote about your accomplishments, and the routine that got you there.

MY KIDS AND ME - Chapter 3

“Give it to Me!”

I’m writing this from my living room…the room that probably holds more memories of our child rearing years than any other room in our house. Our old carpet has been replaced with beautiful tile, but if I close my eyes, I can see my children lying on that old carpet in front of our record player, some on their tummies, some propped on pillows, but all totally focused on the old 33 rpm. Is it some western story? Is it the strands of an orchestra? No, they’re listening to the classic sermon by Dr. R.G Lee, “Payday Someday.” Sometimes I think children’s imaginations were much more active in the days of records and cassette tapes. Our children grew up on “Odyssey,” and early every Saturday morning, they would pile in our bed while Daddy tuned it in on our short wave radio. Uncle Charlie followed, and by then the French toast or pancakes were ready, depending on which Saturday morning it was. But the story that captivated our older children most was the one by Dr. Lee, as only that old famous preacher could tell it.

The story came from the book of I Kings. It’s the tragic story of King Ahab, and his wicked wife, Jezebel. Ahab wanted a vineyard of herbs that belonged to Naboth. But the vineyard was an inheritance, and Naboth was forbidden to give it away, no matter that it was to the king. Ahab offered to buy it from him, or to give him another one in its place. Up until then, Ahab was in his right. But instead of honoring Naboth’s explanation, he pouted, and went home to the palace. It is my personal opinion that he made a big show of his emotions in front of his wife, because she was a manipulator. He knew she was sinister enough to get him anything he wanted, no matter that he was a wimp, and didn’t have the backbone to fight for himself. There is a similarity between Ahab and a lot of children, and even grown ups. When we don’t get what we want, we pout, or we sulk. Children should never be allowed to pout. The sooner your little one learns that all the sulking in the world won’t get her what she wants, the sooner she’ll get the message of the futility of her little shows. Sometimes, though it’s just plain ole easier to give people what they want, than to put forth a little effort to do what’s right.

The story of Ahab ends in tragedy. Jezebel consoled her pouting husband by promising that by hook or crook, she would get him Naboth’s vineyard. And she did. She ordered Naboth killed, and then soothed her coward of a husband by telling him that she had indeed gotten him the vineyard that he desired.

If you are a mother of a child two years old or older, one of the phrases you will most likely hear “from the mouth of your babe,” is “GIVE IT TO ME!” Children are born with self-centered instincts. From the moment their little head or feet enter the world, (and I’ve often wondered if they aren’t shaking those little tight fists,) they’re demanding everyone’s attention, from the hospital staff, to the one who brought them into the world, and for the next two years, from anyone within screaming distance.

That’s where we come in. We must teach our babies and little ones that there are other people in this world, and the sooner they learn that principle the happier they and everyone else around them will be. They’ll be able to adapt to society more easily. Mothers who dote over their children, and give them, and promise them anything their little hearts desire, just to have some peace and quiet while trying to do their grocery shopping, are in reality harming their little one. In the culture where I live, and where we raised our eight children, this is the norm. I’ve seen mothers standing in line in the super market, trying to man-handle a screaming two-year old, while promising her “when we get home, I’ll give you some candy.” Not only is she training that little one to scream in order to get what she wants, but she is teaching her little girl that it’s OK to lie, as long as it’s for a general good purpose…in this case, to shut up her little girl, so that those around her won’t be disturbed.

When we give children everything they want, we’re training them for life to expect others to do the same, whether in school, on the job, or in their marriage.

Even as grandmothers, we’re notorious for giving our grandchildren those things we couldn’t give their parent.

But this can also apply to us. What do you want? What do you feel is rightly yours? I’ve made a list of things that I feel are mine, things I feel I deserve. I’m doing this, because right now I feel like I’m being cheated out of a lot of things I actually need. They are:

1) MY time. I’m 66 years old. Wouldn’t you think a woman my age would have oodles of that commodity on her hands? When our children were very small, we lived in a little village. I had four children at the time, and my baby was about six months old. A very sweet couple came to spend six weeks with us in order to work with my husband, and get medical training for mission work in Colombia. We lived in a little travel trailer, so we fixed up an apartment for them in our boys’ dorm building. They would basically come over for meals, make trips to San Cristobal with us, attend services, and accompany my husband when he would go to deliver babies or stitch up machete wounds. But I was tied down to my children. It seemed like I barely had time to breathe, and often I would look longingly at my friend, who had no children, and I even ventured to tell her one day, “I can’t imagine having as much time as you do.” She bristled, and said, “Don’t think that mothers are the only ones who have a lot of work to do. I have demands on my time, too,” and then she proceeded to enumerate her various responsibilities. I did a little bristling myself, but now that I have no little ones to care for, or even a husband to cook and wash for, I can identify with my motherless friend. There are demands on my time, deadlines, and interruptions. Time is of great value to me, and sometimes to my shame, I feel myself once more bristling, as I silently scream, “GIVE IT TO ME! IT’S MINE! I’VE WORKED HARD ALL MY LIFE, AND I DESERVE SOME FREE TIME, OR AT LEAST ENOUGH TIME, OR MORE TIME!” There’s a story that our family came across many years ago. A friend gave us an old cassette tape of a missionary to, I believe, New Guinea. It’s called “The Pineapple Story.” It’s a classic, and I’ve never been the same since I heard that story. This missionary struggled to protect his pineapple field which he had planted in his back yard. He suffered trying to protect his prize possession. One day after going to several lengths to get back and fight for what was rightfully his, he decided to give his pineapple field to the Lord. He could then look out his window, and peacefully say to the Lord, as he watched the natives stealing his green pineapples which hadn’t even had time to ripen, and pray, “Lord, look what they’re doing to YOUR pineapples.” It was then that the Lord began to work not only in the missionary’s heart, but also in the hearts of the natives. He was able to teach them valuable lessons that they would never have learned had he not exchanged the concept of, GIVE THEM TO ME, for, “Lord, they belong to You.” The Lord says to me, in times of struggle to be mistress of my time, GIVE IT TO ME. It belongs to Me, anyway. It’s then, and then only that I have peace, even in times of pressure to produce more than my time allows. Even though I’m not under the pressure of meals, homework, and laundry, there are other things and people who demand my time. What a joyful peace floods my soul when I give my time to the Lord, and let Him manage it.

2) MY privacy. MY space. Now I’m going to be very, very transparent here. Sometimes I feel like unless I get up long before daylight, I won’t get to have time alone for the rest of the day. I live very close to some of my children and grandchildren. Because I’m alone now, and I have a nice four-bedroom home, which at one time was occupied by my husband and me, and our eight children, there is a tendency to continue occupying what should be, and what I deserve to be unoccupied space. I am basically always surrounded by people: my children, my grandchildren, a little Indian girl who is my housekeeper, and since my house sets right across the drive from my church, church members and Sunday school classes routinely occupy MY space. While I’m addressing mothers and grandmothers, this is a lesson everyone, including single ladies could benefit from. If you’re a college student sharing a dorm room, or if you’re sharing a room with your little sister, learn this lesson: you are going to have to condition yourself to function in a decent and orderly fashion in the midst of people, people, people, as though you were living on an island. You almost have to learn to detach yourself from your surroundings. You can do this. Did you know, I can lie down on my living room couch and go sound to sleep with five grandchildren under the age of 5 years old playing on my living room rug? I can pray in the super market, and in crowded airports. I can read my Bible while my grandchildren play (quietly, of course) on my bed. I’m writing this chapter in my living room, while my daughter is homeschooling her children. I just stopped to look at my granddaughter’s ring, and I kissed her little hand. I waved to one of our preacher boys, as he was leaving out my front gate. Do you know why? I’ve given MY privacy, and MY home to the Lord. When I got up this morning, I started praying, and I asked the Lord to give me enough peace and quiet to coherently write this lesson that has been on my heart for several weeks. And He did. Sometimes I have a sudden urge to pile all my material into my car, and drive downtown to a little coffee shop, and work to my heart’s content; or to check myself into a hotel for a couple of days in order to work in MY own space. But because I’ve given MY privacy, and MY space to the Lord, He works things together so that I can produce more, and more effectively than if I had taken things into my own hands, demanding that He GIVE IT TO ME, and worse still, demanding others to GIVE IT TO ME. When in a million years would I ever be able to teach you this valuable lesson, sitting in the quiet corner of a coffee shop, wondering if I should order more coffee, or leave an extra tip for having occupied a table for the past two hours? When you give up what you feel is rightfully yours, you’ll learn lessons you would have never learned had you demanded your rights. The Lord says, “You want your privacy? GIVE IT TO ME, and I’ll give you peace in the midst of the noise.

3) MY possessions. I have a car, and a house, and a piano, and a computer. I have a kitchen, and dishes, and a yard. I made this statement to one of my son in laws not long ago, “Possessions mean nothing to me. I’ve come to the point in my spiritual walk with the Lord where things mean absolutely nothing to me.” As if the Lord were ridiculing me, He showed me the next day how absolutely wrong I was. Things indeed do mean a lot to me. They provide security, and peace of mind. They provide comfort, and joy. Don’t deny that. Go ahead, say it with me, “I love my house; I love my collection of __________; I just love to come home at night to my __________. I just couldn’t part with my _________.” Don’t be a hypocrite. Don’t tell me, you’ve never gotten mad at your computer, and been tempted to smash the screen. If you don’t admit you are attached to certain possessions, you will never, never know the joy of giving them to the Lord. Say with the missionary, when you see someone destroying your lovely flower garden by running the lawn mower over it, “Lord, those are Your gardenias; Father, remember when we planted Your geraniums? Doesn’t it hurt You to see those beautiful rose bushes being cut down?” It feels good, like dumping a burden on Someone Else’s shoulders. More than that, you feel like you actually have Someone to commiserate with you. I never realized how much my things meant to me until someone suggested I move out of my large house, and into a small apartment. “This would not only give you more privacy, but you don’t really need a four-bedroom house.” Before I could think, I responded, “But I love my house.” This is the same person to whom I had said only a few minutes before, “Things don’t mean anything to me.” Oh, really? Then why do I love my house? While I am a believer in caring for the possessions the Lord has entrusted into our care, and we should certainly carry out the Bible teaching of being good stewards…or are we stewardesses?…of our possessions, in reality they belong to the Lord. When I grieve over things lost, or destroyed, or stolen, He says, GIVE IT TO ME. That car belongs to ME in the first place. It’s then, and then only that I can resign to the fact that they’re not mine in the first place. They already belong to HIM.

Now, it’s easy for me to give my time, my privacy, and my things to an Invisible God. That’s symbolic. I can say to the Lord, “Lord, this kitchen belongs to you.” But He’s not going to come down in bodily form, and clean up the sink full of dishes left by irresponsible people. I must find a body to wash those dishes, because they’re not heavenly. Dirty dishes are earthy in every sense of the word. I must find peace within my heart, by speaking to others, and gently asking them to clean up their mess, or by asking the Lord to give me joy as I work into the midnight hours cleaning up my treasured kitchen. When I consider my work as a ministry for the Lord, only then am I truly giving everything, dirty dishes included, to the Lord.

Do you feel like you’re being cheated by having to stay at home with your children while your husband trots off to the office every morning? The Lord says, GIVE IT TO ME…give me your resentment, give me your boredom, and I’ll give you joy, and I’ll let you have fun.

How do you feel, single mom, when you watch from your window, your neighbor as she waves good bye to her husband as he leaves for work, and then returns to her house in her robe, to leisurely care for her home, while you hurry the children to Day Care in order to get to your job on time? Don’t you feel a little bit of envy? The Lord says, GIVE IT TO ME, and I’ll give you grace and strength to be mother and father to your little ones. If YOU keep it, it will turn into bitterness, and anger and resentment. It could even end in wrecking another home, or in adultery. Is this sometimes the root of child abuse? Uncontrolled anger stemming from resentment can easily be taken out on defenseless children.

What is that sin you’re clinging to…that habit that is possessing you, or ruining your health, or your marriage, or your relationship with the Lord? He says, GIVE IT TO ME. You’ll never be able to control it. No organization in the world can break your will, or enable you to get the victory over those things you cling to for security, but that are destroying something in your life. If you give it to me, I can give you a clean heart, I can change your desires and your longings. I can satisfy your needs.

Guess what! Those children aren’t yours, did you know that? I recently told the ladies in my Sunday school class, “Those children aren’t yours, they belong to the Lord.” How easily we “give” our children to the Lord when we take them to the front of the Church when they’re newborns, and the Pastor prays a special prayer of dedication, “giving them to the Lord.” But that’s not really when we give them to Him. You give them to the Lord when you drive off and leave her standing on the college dorm sidewalk, while she is crying, and you are crying, and everybody is crying. (This is a true story.) The only way you will ever get through an experience like that is to say, “Lord, she’s Yours. You take her life, and do more with her while I’m thousands of miles away, than I could do if she were sleeping in her bedroom next to mine.” And He’ll do it. Do you have ambitions for your son? Do you have your son in law picked out? Wrong. Leave your children’s future to the Lord. Let Him plan it. Let him use your children the way He wants to use them. Train them, teach them, and protect them while they’re little. Guide them, discipline them, put hedges around them while they’re at home. But once they leave the nest, GIVE THEM TO THE LORD. Keep your hands off. They belong to the Lord in the first place. He gave them to you, and they’re not yours to keep.

Are you putting demands on others?...even on yourself?...on the Lord?

Do you have your life all planned out? Maybe you’ve even figured out your own way to go to Heaven. No, He says “GIVE IT TO ME. I have a better plan. I have a perfect plan, a way you can know for sure when you die you can go to Heaven. YOUR works? Even your good ones are as filthy rags. That’s YOUR plan, YOUR way, because it shows how good you think you are. Unless you give it up, and GIVE IT TO ME, and accept MY way, you’ll never make it to Heaven.”

“GIVE IT TO ME…your heart, your plans, your dreams, your future, your space, your time, your possessions, your children, and I WILL GIVE YOU happiness beyond your wildest dreams.”

MY KIDS AND ME - Chapter 2

“Falling in Love” or “When Mama Ain’t Happy”

Now, some of the titles for this book may seem a little strange to you and totally unrelated to life with my children. This book is about what I learned from them. One of the great lessons of my life has been that I affect those around me. My mood swings, my disposition, my attitude all affect not only my children, but the people with whom I live and work.

This is valuable knowledge in living a happy life, whether you’re raising children, flowers, or chickens. If you believe you’re an island, you’re going to have a hard time raising children…at least happy ones.

Did you know God saw the importance of “atmosphere” when He created the earth? It was “without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.” So the first thing He did was to create light. He could have made us in such a way that we could have moved about in total darkness if He had wanted to. But He made light so we could enjoy the beautiful flowers He intended to make. He made night, so we would feel drowsy in front of a cozy fire, and He also made night for romance. Didn’t He? Yes, He did. Romancing with your Sweetie takes on a dreamy dimension at night…candlelight, soft music…Don’t you ever think about why God did what He did in the beginning? Or do I have an over-active imagination? I don’t think so.

The memory of the atmosphere we create in our home is going to stay with our children for the rest of their lives. Their disposition and their temperament largely depend on the atmosphere at home. We’re taught, and I agree, that children are born with certain “bends.” In a family of say, eight children, for instance, all raised in the same atmosphere, same parents, same night time routine, one child will be easy-going and always happy. Who cares that not everyone loves him. He is going to love you, and get along with you. Sleeping in the bedroom next to him will be a little girl who has fought her entire way through the day. She loves the challenge of keeping everyone in line. She doesn’t really care how many enemies she makes during the day, just so by bedtime she’s been able to get at least one sibling in line, with as much punishment as possible.

But at least from my experience, when children grow up in an orderly household, where Mama is happy, usually everybody else is, too. And if she ain’t…neither is anyone else.

So what does “falling in love” have to do with anything? I pray this prayer for several of my children every morning: “Help _______ and _______ to fall in love with ________ and to love it more than any other place on earth.” Because if they don’t, neither will their children. Their children will grow up hating the place where God has called them.

I say this from experience. I literally hated San Cristóbal when we moved here thirty-eight years ago. I won’t even be pious and say like I have in the past, “but as I got to know the people, I began to fall in love with San Cristóbal,” because that’s not really true. I’m not talking about people…I’m talking about places. I’m talking about the place where you are right now. Maybe you’re lying in a hospital bed; maybe you have to cook dinner from a wheel chair, or in a hot steamy kitchen. Ask the Lord to help you to fall in love with where you live.

I can still remember the almost eerie feeling of walking the streets of San Cristóbal when we first arrived. There were no flowers in the yards, or at least if there were, they were not visible from the sidewalks, because San Cristóbal is a colonial town, and everything is gray, and concrete…that was my first impression. Gloom, adobe walls, narrow streets, ugly, ugly, ugly everywhere you looked. That was in February, 1972. Thirty-eight years later, the streets are still narrow, the walls still hide what could possibly be lovely gardens, and the sound, almost like a castle-echo, is what you hear if you walk down the streets this afternoon. So what has changed? I have changed. Not even the people have changed. They’re still very “Coletos,” a term applied to people from this little mountain village. No, the one who has changed is me…or is I…or am I, to be grammatically correct.

I love my town more than any other town on earth. The climate is an average 72 degrees. I live on the outskirts of town, but it’s still noisy, with street vendors, and occasional religious parades, and water trucks that sell my bottled water. I love sitting in my bedroom with the drapes drawn before daylight, and knowing exactly when to turn off my porch light, because the birds start singing at precisely dawn.

No place on earth can compare to my town. I wasn’t born here, and I didn’t grow up here, and I’ll guarantee you, it wasn’t love at first sight. It was a gradual falling in love.

I don’t know if my children were old enough to feel my hatred for this town years ago. They may not have known what made me cranky, or critical, or crabby. But I was, because I lived for the day when we would make cross-country trips from southern México where San Cristóbal is located, to the United States. And I’m ashamed to admit the thoughts I used to have about never coming back.

In my book, Tom and Me, there is a chapter called “I Stayed.” I don’t know where you are, but if you don’t love the place where you are, more than any other place on earth, the only way you’re going to “fall in love” with it is to stay there. Stay put. Know how you do that? You don’t leave.

I’m afraid our children are growing up to hate the place where they live, simply because we don’t make it a happy place.

I don’t know what circumstances are making you unhappy with your surroundings, but you can make it very pleasant and a happy place for your children.

So if it isn’t the people that make a place happy, what is it? I say it’s the memories. We’ve made memories with our children in the most desolate situations, in the unhappiest times of our lives. I remember the time Anna was only two months old, and we were returning home from the States. We had a bad wreck, and our pickup and travel trailer turned over. Miraculously we survived. By then we had five children, and the trailer was actually our home. But some of the most precious memories I hold dear to my heart are those made that week in the hotel room where we stayed while our insurance company was settling with the man who caused the accident. With a family of seven, including a baby, you can imagine the laundry…and no laundromat! I laughed until my side hurt at the sight of my husband “changing cycles” as he washed clothes in the bath tub…from gentle to spin to regular to rinse…how the children laughed as Daddy did the laundry.

The scary moments?...the terrifying feeling of reliving every moment of the wreck…yes, they were there. But what I remember most was the picnic down at the river, making new friends at the hotel, hanging my laundry out on the hotel roof, and using the closet shelves as kitchen storage. Like falling in love in a romantic atmosphere, precious memories are what make for a life long love affair with the place where God has put us.

There’s a divine element in falling in love. Worldly love affairs are all about the physical. But true love from God is more about the spirit, that nameless, indescribable attraction toward the one we truly love. If you leave God out of the picture, and out of your life, I don’t know how you make sense of anything in the first place. That’s what tears families apart…looking for that perfect town, that perfect job, or school, or church, even, can create an unrest, a dissatisfaction not only in us, but in our children as well.

Whether it’s peanut butter sandwiches under a shade tree in the back yard, or reading to our children, or playing games, you can make some happy memories. When you’re not happy, neither are your children. Fall in love with the place God has chosen for you to live. And so will your children.

MY KIDS AND ME - Chapter 1

“I Don’t Think I Can Do This!”

I had been married for about three months, when my doctor husband returned home from the hospital with the news that normally the expectant mother gives to the expectant father: “We’re going to have a baby.” I had been experiencing suspicious symptoms, so Tom took my…well, you know…to the hospital lab to be tested, and sure enough…there was a baby in there!...not really, but you know what I mean.

My husband, Tom, was finishing his General Practice residency in Lafayette, Louisiana. Those were the days when life holds all your dreams: we were passionately-in-love newlyweds; we were excited about leaving for the mission field of Mexico in a few months, and now the joy of looking forward to having a baby. Life didn’t get better than this…

…until that fatal day…

Always the planner, I had decided to be not only the world’s best mother with the world’s best children, but I also planned to have the perfect delivery. I was young and healthy. I was married to a physician. And I was also a scaredy cat…with a very low pain tolerance level.

Upon my insistence, my doctor husband brought home an armload of little pamphlets that he would give to his mommies-to-be. I was so excited I could hardly breathe and couldn’t wait until I got my hands on them: my guide to perfection.

And then I saw the explicit illustrations and drawings of a child actually coming into the world. It was with horror that I announced to my husband when he came in for lunch that day: “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Of course, you can,” he said simply, as he usually expressed everything he said. I was the “embellisher,” as he called me. He was the “simplifier,” so he added, “Millions of women all over the world have had babies, down through the centuries, and so can you. And besides, you don’t have an option.”

Well, thanks a lot for the encouragement!

That was exactly forty years ago. And as I look back over all those years of mothering eight children, I still remember times, much more challenging than labor of childbirth. It’s those days when you feel like you did everything wrong. The “why did I do that?...why didn’t I do that?” The feeling of having sped through my day, and running right past my children. The tears shed over things I’d said to them…or things I didn’t say.

Neglect…thoughtlessness…cruelty…abandonment…failure…these aren’t the confessions of a physically abusive mom. They’re the devastating thoughts of a mother who adored her children, and wouldn’t for anything in the world have done anything to hurt them.

Why this feeling of total inadequacies? You’re reading this, and you’re feeling this with me. Yes you are. This describes you perfectly, doesn’t it? You’re about ready to throw in the towel, and you’re not too particular whose head it lands on. You just want out! Or maybe you want help.

Looking back over those years when my children were still at home, I believe those feelings came to me, as they do to you because of several things:

I was looking inward, and not upward. I read my Bible faithfully every single morning…or at least at some point during the day. When my oldest child was four months old, I started reading the Bible through, and I’ve just finished reading it through for the 39th time. I faithfully had Bible reading with my children every morning. But somehow, that Bible-glow gets dimmer and dimmer as the day grows to an end. The challenge becomes the obstacle, the ever-present hill to be climbed. One tends to think of self more at the end of the day, instead of being happy with one’s role in life, and God’s plan for him or her. Funny, it was always at the end of the day when I would get those feelings. The devil attacks us when we are most vulnerable: when we’ve had it with our children…when we’re tired…when a little one is sick, or doesn’t understand a math problem. It’s at that point that the devil shows us how utterly incapable we are as mothers. And we are, but for the Lord’s grace and strength. Don’t ever say or think you are incapable of doing something that God has called you to do. Your role as mother is as much a ministry as the role of your Pastor’s ministry. You are the best mother God could have chosen for your children. You are tailor-made for them. Even if your little ones are adopted, God put them under your care for a purpose. He allowed you to choose them. There was something about that little one that reached out and touched your motherless heart, and said, “She’s the one,” or “Pick him.” There is a confidence that must come in doing anything for the Lord. But it’s not confidence in one’s own ability. It comes from knowing that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. So the next time you have those desperately unfit mom feelings, look to the One who gave you these little ones. You’re not unfit. You’re tailor-made. Take your eyes off yourself, and your failures and shortcomings, and look to Him for your strength.
I was looking outward, and not upward. If you think I was nuts for studying how to have a baby, you should have seen my library once I actually had a baby! I read everything I could get my hands on about mothering. Just like you! You’re reading this book, because you think I have it altogether. I’ve raised eight children, and you want to know how I survived. This book is not about child raising. It’s a book written to encourage parents, and especially mothers and grandmothers. I would read those books, and about half way through the first chapter, I would already be discouraged. I didn’t have children like this typical suburban housewife. I would daydream about her, and fantasize about being like her. I would lovingly discipline, and I would be a nurturer. I would never get angry or upset. But in reality, in real life, I wasn’t that way, and I couldn’t handle the pressures. What I didn’t know is that most of those mom-authors couldn’t either. I believe those books must surely be written by mothers who have their standards so high, that not even Susannah Wesley herself could have attained to such high goals. Then one day, I closed all my books, and realized my limitations. I turned to the Lord, and I said, “Lord, you know I want to be a good mother. I’d even love to be perfect, just like You. But I can’t. So will You please take all my imperfections, knowing me like You know me, turn them around and use them to help me raise these children? I can’t do it in my strength, so I ask for Yours. I look to Your Word for guidance.”
I was comparing myself to others, instead of to the Lord. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? I “hear” that smile. I had two friends whom I thought had to be model moms. They were everything I was not. Their children always were immaculately dressed, had impeccable manners, and always had their shoes on. In the area of academics, theirs far excelled mine. We were all home schooling, missionary moms, and they were always talking about the wonderful grades their children made. Their houses were much nicer than mine, and they never had one single dirty dish in the sink. Funny how when you start comparing “apples to apples,” oranges start to appear, too. We’re talking children here, not houses. But even their clothes, their vehicles, their ministries…oops!...their husbands seemed to have it altogether. I say this from experience, and with authority: this is a work of the devil. Don’t ever, ever compare yourself, your children, your house, your church to those of others. This will only accomplish one of two results: you will be puffy with pride, or you will be desperately discouraged. God made you on purpose. He made you inside out. He gave you your husband, your children, your church. He made your body like He wanted it to be. He knows your weaknesses, but He also knows your strengths. Stop “accentuating the negative,” and start “accentuating the positive.” Take what you have, where you are. Accept who you are, and stop comparing. Only when I compare myself to the Lord, and strive to become like Him, will I ever become who He wants me to be. He doesn’t want you to be like me. He didn’t want me to be like Ginny or Sandy. He didn’t want them to be like me. Only when I accept who I am, can He make me to be like Him. Accept your husband. Accept your children, and thank God for the way He made them. Don’t try to change them. Train your children for the Lord. Don’t train them to be preachers, or missionaries, or doctors, or businessmen. Train them for the Lord, for Him to do with them as He wills. Get your eyes off others, and back on the Lord.

Some mothers look at child rearing like some people look at Salvation. Salvation is by grace. And so is childrearing. Did you know if there were something good you could do to take you to Heaven, there would be the corresponding something bad to condemn you to hell? Salvation is by grace, through faith in Jesus Christ. I witness to people all the time who don’t like this. They want to think there is surely something they can do to take them to Heaven. That’s why you’re ready to throw in the towel. You’re saved, but some of the things you do give the devil opportunity to make you think you’ve “lost” your Salvation, or you haven’t been good enough. There is nothing good enough you can do to take you to Heaven. If you are going to Heaven, it is all by grace, and through faith in Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross.

That’s the way it is with mothering. Just as there is an element of pride of wanting to “do something on my own” that will merit Heaven for me, there is a pride element in thinking, “I don’t think I can do this,” when it comes to mothering. Of course, you can’t. Of course I couldn’t. It is all through grace that our children grow up to love and serve the Lord. It doesn’t all depend on you. I didn’t have little Joel’s destiny in my hands. I didn’t do all the blotching in his life. Stop being so proud that you can’t admit that you CAN raise that child to serve the Lord, you CAN be a good mother, you ARE the best mother that child could possibly have. If you’re drunk, or if you’re a druggie, I don’t know why you would be reading this book. But if you are, God didn’t mean for you to mess up your life. But neither did He kill you, so He must surely have a purpose for leaving you here. If you still have little ones at home, get up! Pour all your alcoholic beverages, and your drugs down the toilet. If you don’t know anyone who can show you how to get saved, and be a good mother, just tell the Lord, “Lord, I’m lost. I’m a sinner. I’m on my way to hell. Save me from my sins, from my drugs, and from everything bad in my life. Forgive me for hurting You. I believe your Son, Jesus died on the cross for my sins. I accept Him, and ask Him to make me to be everything You would have me to be. Help me to raise these children to love You and serve You all the days of their lives. I take You into my heart, into my life, and into my home. In Jesus’ name. Amen.” If you pray that prayer, and mean it with all your heart, He’ll hear you, and He’ll give you grace to be the kind of mother your children need you to be. The Holy Spirit lives in you, and He will direct you as you lovingly raise your children.

Don’t think you can do this? Well, you can’t. I had no more power over not having a baby than you have over training yours in the ways of the Lord. Just as my body performed its natural function in childbirth, so you must let the Holy Spirit direct your thoughts, your desires, your goals, your actions to “bring forth” children who love and serve the Lord. This should be your ultimate goal: producing and rearing children who mature spiritually, sufficiently to love and serve the Lord in whatever capacity He wants to use them.

I think you can do this!