Reality: One mom's dark place

The past nine months of my life have been the hardest to date.

To go into all the details would be too time-consuming and quite irrelevant to the point of what I am sharing today.  The point is that Satan has been attacking me hard.  Now, I don't know that he is attacking me any harder than any other Christian mother, but this isn't a contest.

I don't need to share the details of my particular burdens for you to just know, because most moms will know.
You know because he has attacked you, too.
He has burdened your conscience.
He has sent life events to drown you.
He has taken births of blessings and turned them into the darkest moments of your lives.
He has looked at your repentance and told you it isn't enough.
He has seen what makes you angry, and he uses it against you.
He has led you into temptation.
He has encouraged you when you start to question why God would do these things to you.

My dark place is ever-going at the moment.  Nine months and going strong.  A constant battle to just choose to try again the next day, with the knowledge that another day of crushing blows is probably coming.  I tend to be a positive person, which actually makes this so much stranger for me.  I still tend toward positive thinking, and yet I can't seem to get that pesky Satan to stop crushing my spirit. He is good at it, because he has tons of practice.  I am sure he is well practiced on you, too, my friend.

Sometimes as a pastor's wife, I say Satan is that much worse, because let's be honest, there is a bullseye on your family's back when your husband faithfully preaches the Law and Gospel to souls.
And then, getting pastoral care from the man who knows your every fault can be intimidating.  I sinfully shun it at times.
But today my pastor husband came home with the letter below.
Thanks be to God for faithful shepherds to soothe a sinner's heart.

I share it here for my own benefit, as I will be able to read it in moments when I need it.
I share it here for your benefit, as you can fill it in with your children and be reminded of Christ's work through you.
I will be honest, though.  It doesn't mean your life will be better.  Satan will keep attacking you.  Life will continue to be hard.  But in that, know that I am praying for you, all Christian mothers, that you may be filled with joy in your blessings, given comfort in your repentance of sins, and strengthened to stand firm against the darts of Satan (while knowing they were already thrown at and destroyed by Jesus for you).


To my wife, the mother of our children:

And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. (Galatians 6:9)

Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! (Psalm 126:5)

The wicked earns deceptive wages, but one who sows righteousness gets a sure reward. (Proverbs 11:18)

It is so very easy to grow weary in doing good, especially because we think we don’t see results.  We too often sow and desire to reap in an hour, a day, or a week.  However, Scripture uses these terms wisely and for our encouragement.  We are called to be patient like a farmer.  As seeds take time to sprout, so the good that we sow to those around often takes time to give testimony.  Sometimes, we won’t see them at all, but that doesn’t make God unfaithful to His Word.

Meanwhile, the devil calls us to impatience and weariness.  He magnifies our sins and judges us harshly.  He weighs us down with despair and unbelief that God could use such a sinner as I to bless others.  While it is indeed a work of the Holy Spirit to convict us of our sin, it is the work of the devil for us to be convinced that God wants to stop there.  We grow in love of others by growing in the knowledge and peace that He first loved us.  We begin to understand what it means that Jesus died for our sins by becoming increasingly aware of how many sins we actually commit in thought, word, and deed.  It seems ironic, but is true, that we are made holy by becoming more sensitive to the depth, not the shallowness, of the accusations of the holy Ten Commands. 

Jesus doesn’t want you to grow weary and become burdened so that you stay weary and burdened.  He calls you to come to Him for rest – true rest of conscience and peace with God and man.  He is gentle with you.  Learn from Him.  He has borne the yoke of your sin and then gives you His yoke – love one another as I have loved you. 

I desire for you to begin to see the love that Christ has shown to our children through you.  Through Him, you have sowed (sometimes in tears!), and in Him there has been true, visible results – a wonderful reaping.  Consider only some of the results shown since your 2015 birthday:

Solomon

Solomon has completed a second year of attending Classical Conversations (and he is only 5 years old!).  He has learned countless (!) songs by heart that have taught and will continue to teach him about God’s gracious hand in history, science, math, and language.  This, his second year, was his first year without you in the room.  He showed respect and love for his teacher – who adores him.  He learned, listened, gave speeches (often without much preparation…let’s be honest!), and showed kindness all on his own. Because you gave him this opportunity to be a student by himself, you also learned that he sometimes sins against his teacher and classmates even when that teacher isn’t his mother and his classmate isn’t his brother.

Solomon has grown in both attitude and aptitude in reading, writing, and math.  He completed his 100^th reading lesson with you.  Can you reflect on the aptitude and attitude of lesson 1 and begin to see that God is faithful to His promises – you sowed in tears and now are reaping with joy, though I’m not discounting that you continue to sow in tears at times!  His desire to read grows stronger every month.  He asks about signs on the road, on walks and parks, and on titles of books. 

He expresses himself better, is more self-controlled, sleeps better, gets dressed quicker, is able to handle small chores, entertains himself longer, and has grown in playing with his brother.  He applies knowledge learned in school, library books read by you, from random play, and watching Daniel Tiger to real life situations.

Most importantly, he has repented of his sins countless times and received absolution both from God and from others.  He prays on his own, knows more of the Bible, has memorized more hymns, more parts of the liturgy, and now freely asks very difficult questions about his God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 

Henry

Henry has completed his first year of Classical Conversations.  He has learned countless (!) songs by heart that have taught and will continue to teach him about God’s gracious hand in history, science, math, and language.  He was introduced to public speaking (at the age of 4!) and at times showed amazing aptitude in it (remember the Christmas program at church?).  Can you begin to see that God is faithful to his promises that those who sow in tears will reap in joy?  He grew in friendship and playing with others.

He was given the greatest gift he never asked for when God gave him another new baby sister.  He loves, laughs, and cares for her so intently partly because he models your love, laughter, and care.  He applies knowledge learned in school, library books read by you, from random play, and watching Daniel Tiger to real life situations.

He is an amazing builder of Lincoln Logs and Tinker Toys – all new from Christmas 2015.  He speaks clearer, counts better, recognizes and creates patterns, knows much of the alphabet and their phonetic sounds and can actually read some whole sentences!  He sleeps better, falls asleep on his own easier, gets dressed on his own, and continues to learn to control his crazy emotions that God gave him through you and me. 

Most importantly, he has repented of his sins countless times and received absolution both from God and from others.  He prays for others, knows more of the Bible, has memorized more hymns, and more parts of the liturgy.

Dorothea

Dorothea has recently exploded in her ability to express herself.  She has an immense vocabulary and realizes that because she is loved by mom and dad, she can speak freely about everything.  She has learned so much simply by being present in situations where teaching, reading, and singing has occurred.  She has learned countless (!) songs by heart that have taught and will continue to teach her about God’s gracious hand in history, science, math, and language.

She now consistently plays by herself and with others.  She has begun to learn what she loves and has been encouraged to grow in that (“Mommy, can I color?”).  She sleeps in a big girl bed, shares a bedroom with her baby sister, and actually sleeps very well.  She wears 3T clothes that were gathered and organized by you (Thank God for the gift of clothes from others and for the countless hours spent by you organizing all of our children’s clothes!).  She eats incredibly well without much complaint. 

Most importantly, she has repented of her sins countless times and received absolution both from God and from others.  She prays, blesses, knows more of the Bible, has memorized more hymns, and more parts of the liturgy.

Josephine

One year ago, Josephine was still being created and formed by her Heavenly Father in your womb.  Josephine has been birthed and also been given the gift of new birth by Water and the Spirit.

She now crawls, laughs, eats solid food, shows love and is receptive of love.  She expects comfort because she has received so much comfort.  She now sleeps in a crib and sleeps relatively well (says I in ignorance!)

Before the age of 1, our little Josephine has heard in her ears and soul countless confessions of sin from her father, mother, and siblings and countless absolutions from God and to each other.  She has heard so many prayers, so many blessings, so much of the Word of God, so many hymns, and so many parts of the liturgy.  She sings, she folds her hands, and she crosses herself.

Conclusion

So, God is faithful to His promises.  You have sown in doing good and because of His grace, you can begin to see the good reaping.  Don’t grow weary.  Keep commending yourself and children to God with the patience of a farmer.  You have received rewards here in time and are promised even greater rewards in eternity.

There is still more love to grow in.  Your faith and hope constantly need to be strengthened by the healing Words and Sacrament of our Savior.  The holy Ten Commands will continually be calling for us to fulfill them, so take heart in this, one of your fathers in the faith – “All God’s commandments are fulfilled when whatever is not done, is forgiven” (St. Augustine).

Love,

Your husband

Reality: A letter to my daughters and daughters-in-law

If a day comes that my daughters or my daughters-in-law are blessed with children, this is the letter I will give them.

My dearest daughters and daughters-in-law,

Everyone has an opinion about your life.  Many will decide to tell you about their opinions through light-hearted jokes or hard-hearted stabs.  Both can seem like arrows to your soul at times.  The weight is heavy as a mom of young children.  You carry with you the guilt of every mistake you will make...and you will make them.  I made them with you, my daughters, everyday.  I made them with my sons, your husbands, everyday.  The world and your own consciences will tell you all the things you do wrong and some things they think you do wrong.  You don't cherish every moment.  You discipline in anger.  You want nothing more in the world than to be alone for an hour and sometimes you despise your children for not allowing you that time.  You don't feed them homemade food for every meal. You don't always want to take them to church.  You feed them too often.  You let them cry too long. You don't do enough.  You do too much.  You have too many kids.  You, my daughters and daughters-in-law, will be judged by the world and by yourself.  The world will tell you being a mom is not enough.  You are smart and educated.  You could be doing so much more.  Your heart will believe these comments sometimes, because there is truth to them.  You are smart.  You are educated.  And you will want to bolt out of your mom role.  It will happen.  And worse, when it happens, you will feel like you can't express those feelings because everyone out in the world was waiting for this moment - the moment when you finally woke up and realized they were right all along... You have too many kids.  You want more than this life.  You can't let yourself say the reality of a hard life with kids because everyone out there seems to hate kids.  How can you, who loves children and the blessings of them, honestly say that sometimes you just want to run away?  The burden is heavy.  You will fail more times than you ever care to tell the world.  You will hurt the ones who love you most and they will hurt you.

But my dearest daughters and daughters-in-law, should you be blessed to have a life like mine, let me tell you want I want to remember for the moment that this pain hits you -

I want to say I understand.  You can be honest with me,and you can be honest with your Jesus.  Because it does not matter what anyone's opinion is about your life.  God gave you this life.  In His infinite mercy and knowledge, He chose you as the mother of these children.  He will fill your heart at times with such great joy that you feel you may burst.  The love He gives you for your children is enormous. But when that joy and that love seems to be seeping out of all the cracks caused by the daily chaos, constant touching, endless needs, and constant interruptions, know that He will restore it, my dears.  He will restore your joy and love.  Everyday is hard - particularly between the hours of six in the morning until six in the morning the next day.  I mean, I get it.  When people make well-meaning comments about your "full hands" or when they seem to stab you with a dagger of hatred about the kids being "all yours?!?!," know that every person, even that person stabbing you, is fighting a different battle in their life.  Do your best to respond in kindness, because their cross is no lighter or heavier than yours.  Maybe your kindness will be a pebble in their shoe to remind them of that one woman who had lots of kids and still seemed joyful.

But more importantly, my dears, when you DON'T respond with kindness (and there will be times you won't), know that your Jesus bore that sin, too.  You don't live a life full of laws from God to keep you perfect.  You don't live a life to earn your way to heaven.  You live a life full of forgiveness that sets you free.  Free to love your children.  Free to love your husbands.  Free to love your neighbors.  Free to love yourself.  The freedom provided from the cross of Christ is the only cure for the crosses you bear in this life.   You will never be enough, but Christ's cross will always be enough.

My dearest daughters, by birth and by marriage, know that I may forget this time in my life by the time you get there.  God will have re-filled my joy and sealed my mom-of-littles cracks.  There will be new cracks, of which I don't know anything about now.  So, be kind to me, too, and help bring back some of these memories so that I may help you bear the burdens in joy.  Find this letter and gently say, "Mom, remember when..."  I will probably smile and say something ridiculous like, "Oh, I miss those times.  Cherish every moment."  Have mercy on my aging soul as I remember a time when I felt fully needed.  I may not always feel that way, and I am certain I will miss that part...someday.

Love,
Mom

Reality: The Identity That Matters

I read this story the other day.
There was a black server who served a black couple their meal at a restaurant.  When the couple filled out their ticket, they did not leave a tip and instead wrote, "Be black" in the tip line.  His actions apparently didn't register as black enough for their tastes.
There are a ton of stories like this one, with all different races of people assuming all sorts of roles on everyone else.

Insert one of my heart's most secret fears.

Our oldest son is five years old.
We knew he was our son when his birthmother was about six months pregnant with him.
He is some beautiful mix of African American and Puerto Rican.
We are white.  (Actually, I tell most people I am translucent because I am so pale you can see all my veins.  You just can't get whiter than I am.)

I look at my precious son, and I fear that he will never be black enough for some people's opinions.
I fear he will never be Puerto Rican enough for some other people's opinions.
I fear he will be too white for some other people's opinions.
Everyone has opinions about these kind of things.

Because versions of it have already happened a number of times, someday I know I will have to explain to him why someone called him "an oreo" (a terrible term for someone who is black on the outside and acts white on the inside, whatever that means...).  Someday I am going to have to hold him when he cries because someone was mean to him because of the color of his skin...or because of the color of my skin.

And when I start "somedaying" my fears, I remember that by the day that someday gets here, I will have already spent our time teaching him that he doesn't need to worry about being black enough or white enough or anything enough.  The only identity that matters is whether he is baptized enough, and that he is, indeed.

The only identity that matters is if God has marked him as His own, and He has.

The reality is he will never be "enough" in this world, because none of us will be.
And when we recognize this, we are able to stand up and say, "No. I am not enough, but Christ is."

My dear son, Christ is.
And your identity will always be in Him.
You were marked as His when you were just 11 days old.
That, my son, is the only identity that matters.
All you have to worry about is being Solomon enough.  Christ has everything handled.

Reality: Merry Christmas from the pastor's family.

As I stand in my living room on Christmas Eve morning, my children are dancing with scarves to Christmas music, and my husband has been gone since before breakfast.  He will join us for lunch and a quick facetime with family from afar, and then be gone until well after bedtime. That is the life of a pastor's family.

Do not get me wrong, here - I would not change any of this for anything.  I am proud of my husband.  I am happy to share him with a world that needs faithful undershepherds.

We all make sacrifices every single day.  It doesn't matter if your husband works in a factory, in an office, or in the church.  Or maybe you don't have a husband.  The fact is, we all sacrifice certain things.  I think it is important for other people to understand about this life, too.  My sacrifices may be very different from yours, but it doesn't mean they are easier or harder.  They are different.

No, we won't be going home for Christmas.
No, we will actually never be going home for Christmas.
Our home is here with our small family, with our church family, and with our iPad for facetiming.

My husband currently has at least four people in the hospital, one person dying in Hospice, and two other members with considerable needs to serve.  Christmas is a joyful time to celebrate our Lord's birth, and yet it brings with it many griefs.  People die.  People get cancer.  People are lonely.  And when the people God gave my husband to shepherd do those things, he suffers next to them and for them.  That is the heart of the pastor.

"Peter, do you love Me?"
"Yes, Lord; You know that I love You."
"Tend My sheep."
(Paraphrased from John 21:15- 16)

Tending sheep involves more than a service on Christmas morning.  It involves much more than preaching a sermon once per week.  I do not remember the last time my husband did not receive at least one phone call while at home from a member who was in need.  And I have no way of counting the number of calls he receives while in the office.

This doesn't mean I want them to stop calling.  Lord, please give them the courage to keep calling when they need him.  He wants them to call.  He is Called to tend and to feed, and therefore, calling him to tell him how he can tend and feed is important.  He has no greater joy in being a pastor than when he is able to tend to sheep in times of need.

God gives great comfort to pastors and their families in this way.
The struggles are real.  The weight is heavy.  The loneliness is dark.

But the peace in Christ is full.  When my husband brings the Word of God to those in need, it also fills him.  When he is full, we are full.

And so this Christmas, be full of peace.
The peace brought to us in the manger and on the cross.
Merry Christmas from one pastor's family.

Reality: When the pew seems more like a trench.

I hear the phrase "being in the trenches" in reference to raising young children.  I have four kids five and under.  I get it.  I know the trench well - it involves lots of mud, bodily fluids, thrown food, blow-outs, and intense screaming.  The trenches are exhausting.

I think that is what makes the Divine Service with children so difficult.  Where God comes to bring comfort, peace, and forgiveness, we bring the trench.  Where I sit to be fed the nourishment to end my hunger, the trench finds a way of distracting the meal.

But the trench needs that comfort, peace, and forgiveness as much as we do.
The trench needs to be fed that nourishment in Word and Sacrament as much as I do.

So, we trudge on and in the midst of it,
we are reminded of our weaknesses,
we are reminded of our own lack of control,
we are reminded that WE are the trench to God.

The trench where He stooped down and took on human flesh.  The mystery of all mysteries.  God became man.

And because He did this, we are free to bring our trench into the Divine Service where it can be molded and fed.

It doesn't mean it will be easy.  My trench is pretty ugly sometimes.  In my four years of sitting in the trench at church without my husband's help, I have experienced all of the following:

- shrieking screams (not me, although I was thinking it in my mind)
- violent body shaking (also not me, but it has been close)
- infant blow-outs (not me, but ON me)
- potty training pee accidents (not me and NOT on me, poor church floor)
- bottlefeeding (including spilled powder formula)
- breastfeeding (including angrily tossed covers or worse - forgotten covers...)
- banged heads, and elbows, and knees, and every other body part (some mine, some theirs)
- temper tantrums (yes, definitely from me, too, I confess)
- dropped approximately 10,000,000,000,000 toys, crayons, books, etc. (anyone know a toy can roll for approximately 10,000 more feet than normal under pews?)
- a toddler who was a runner (and a mother who was quicker than lightening at grabbing shirt collars)
- a pre-schooler who was a clinger (and a mother who prayed for one moment of no touching)
- inappropriate words at loud volumes (I plead the 5th on who those came from)
- broken beaded necklace that made little pings and rolling bead noises all over the church (don't jewelry makers understand that a necklace must be able to hold the weight of a determined toddler swinging from the make believe vines of Mommy Forest?)
- ripped hymnal pages (ugh, just ugh...nothing like the sound of ripping paper as you think, "OH, no, everyone just heard the PKs rip that hymnal...)
- a few appropriately placed "Amen"s and "Lord have mercy"s (AMEN! and most certainly LORD HAVE MERCY!)
- a couple moments of quiet (THANKS BE TO GOD!)
- an open hymnal on a child's lap (SOMEBODY QUICK, GRAB A CAMERA! You know, before he rips it.)

But through all this I have learned a few things.
Here are my words of wisdom for all you trench-dwellers.

*Note - I am no expert.  If you saw me on any given Sunday, you would probably think, "Where does that lady get off giving advice?"  But it never hurts to share some trench tactics.  So, here you go.

The single greatest thing I have learned over the years is that LESS is MORE.  I used to pack my bag full of all sorts of entertaining gadgets, toys, crayons, snacks, and activities.  The more I took, the more there was to manage.  Now, I take three pieces of gum reserved for sermon time, three one dollar bills for the offering time, and each child chooses one book before we leave the house, and they are responsible for it.  Oh, and one carrier/nursing cover for the baby - the only entertainment needed for her at this time.  If I am attending both of my husband's congregations, I bring one snack bag for each kid for the second service.  Two services?  They deserve a reward, amiright?  The days of being a pack-mule for church are over for me.  And it is glorious.  No fighting over all the stuff, no loud toys banging on the floor or pew, and less weight on my shoulders.

The second greatest thing I have learned is to prepare the kids a little in advance.  It doesn't have to be much.  I happened to be married to the pastor, so I can often find out hymn selections in advance.  If you aren't married to the pastor, I can almost place money on the fact that a phone call to him asking the hymn selections for you to practice with kids would be the single greatest call he ever received.  Singing the first verse over the course of the week really helps them recognize it.  They are so joyful when they say, "Mama, we sing this at home!"  If my husband mentions the texts or sermon to me, I try to use some of those words with the kids.  It helps build their theological vocabulary and gives them something to latch onto during the service.

Third, I have hand signals.  We made them up together.  I can say "turn around, bottom on your seat, close your mouth, listen, stand, and hands to yourself" without saying anything (which inevitably ends with actually making more noise).  Build your own sign language.  And practice it.

My last piece of advice is to be prepared with hidden chocolate at home for when all the tactics end in your loss of the battle.  You will need it sometimes.

Eat the chocolate, and then remember that God doesn't depend on you, your actions, or the actions of your children to do what He says He does in the Divine Service.

He feeds you...He forgives you...He teaches you...

Whether or not you can recall even just one line of that sermon.

Trench on, beautiful mamas and papas.  This trench/pew is one worth diving into.

Reality: Your Arguments Just Won't Fly with Me

I live everyday of my life with a person who was not planned by his birthmother.  I raise, love, discipline, and watch one of these people grow every single day of my life.  I have signed my name to court documents saying that I will continue to do this until he is of legal age (and probably much longer).

So, when you sit behind the safety of your computer screen and share edited facts about how "only 3% of Planned Parenthood's work is abortions," you just simply cannot understand me.

Your arguments just won't fly with me.

My son could have easily been part of that 3% (or hundreds of thousands of babies), and your argument would be, "Yeah, that was his birthmother's choice, but she could have chosen an abortion, too."  Some of you follow that up with, "I am glad she didn't, but it was her choice to make."

I don't curse, but if I did, it would be right here...
THAT IS MY SON.

Your arguments just won't fly with me.

I mother this child because of the choice his first mother made.  And that choice was not and should never be one between "kill him or have him," but between "choose to raise him or choose the ones who raise him."

She chose to choose us, and never have I ever been so honored.  Adoption is not all rainbows and butterflies.  There is true hurt involved in all parties, but that hurt is one we feel because we love from every side.  And yes, someday my son will know his entire story and he will feel pain with that, but thanks be to God that he has been given a story to know and learn and feel.

And because he has been given that story, hundreds and probably thousands of others have been positively impacted in just his short five years.

He is not just a number - a single life in the hundreds of thousands that could have been a part of a "little" percentage to be thrown around like it is insignificant.

He is a person.
A life.

One that hurts, and loves, and gives, and takes, and sins, and repents, and obeys, and dishonors, and brings joy, and brings heartache, and laughs, and cries, and lives.

And that is why your arguments just won't ever fly with me.

Reality: On Shots and Pee Cups

Today was Solomon's five year check-up at the doctor.  I failed to mention to him that it was going to result in some shots.  I know there is a debate out there about whether or not to do shots and whether or not you should prepare your kids for said shots should you choose to partake in them.

This post isn't anything about that.  This post is about the most hilarious story in the history of ever. So, prepare yourself...

Nearing the end of the regular appointment, no one had used the "S.H.O.T.S." word, and the doctor was headed out the door and said, "Great to see you today.  Just wait here and a nurse will bring in the...well, you know."

Solomon's eyes got huge and turned to me when the doctor left.  He said, "What?  Who is going to bring what?  What are they bringing in here, Mommy?  Mommy?  Mommy?"

Me: "Well, Solomon, a nurse is going to bring some medicine so that you can stay healthy."
Solomon: "Oh, OK, Great!"

Nailed it.

Except that in walked the nurse carrying an empty cup.  She said, "Actually, we are going to need a urine sample before going on."

I laughed, as this was going to be the S man's first pee-in-a-cup experience.  I hope anyway.  I know he hasn't done it for medical reasons, but he is a boy, so he may have peed in a cup before at some point that I thankfully do not know about...

Anyway.

I said, "Come on, Solomon," grabbed the cup, held his hand, and headed toward the bathroom.  When I closed the door he looked at me and said, "What are we going to do with that cup?"

I said, "Well, you have to pee in it."

INSERT SUDDEN LOOK OF HORROR AND SHOCK.

Solomon: "What? I have to what?"
Me:  "You have to pee in it."

He turned white as a ghost and looked up at me with wide eyes and said, "Mama, is THAT going to be my medicine?"

When I tried to tell this story to the nurse, I couldn't make it through that line.  When I tried to tell this to my mom on the phone on the way home, I couldn't make it through that line.  When I got home and told my husband, I still couldn't make it through that line.  And now typing, I couldn't make it through that line.

"Mama, is THAT going to be my medicine?"

Poor guy.

I had told him the next lady was coming to bring him his medicine, and the next lady brought him that cup.  So, obviously, guys, whatever was going in that cup was clearly his medicine.

The lucky part about the whole thing is that after that, he barely made a peep about his ACTUAL shots.

I mean, things could have clearly been worse than THAT medicine.