Five minute Friday – song

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This boy when he sings, makes my heart smile.

This boy when he sings, makes my heart smile.

I know my family has found the sweet spot in the day when my orange-hair, freckle face 16-year-old starts to sing.

You will not hear him on an album. His ministry-minded middle is in the Moody Men’s Choir and he sings with wild abandon. He sings almost too much. I love it, don’t get me wrong but there’s a sharp contract between the two.

Isaac, though, most of his songs are silly and they are less frequent. These songs can be of the suburban white-boy rap quality busting bad rhymes about important things like how much he hates swiss chard

or cleaning the marble kitchen island

You know, deeply emotional things…NOT

Quite a few are about me being his mom.

Oh these make me giggle

But more importantly they tell me something very important.

He feels safe.

When I sing, it means I am allowing you to hear my voice. You have been permitted to hear my non-musical melodies. I have deemed you safe. When I am off-pitch or goof up a word, if you are hearing my song, you have been given a gift not necessarily in the form of sound but in the form of security.

Writing for five minutes is a treasure. Do it! Click here for deets!

Writing for five minutes is a treasure. Do it! Click here for deets!

When people sing in this family, it brings more than music to my ears. It brings healing.

Question: When someone in your family sings, what does that mean to your heart?

Truth is, as a mom I’m not a straight A student…a parent report card from my kid

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This picture might indicate a lack of parental perfection.

Two people trying to do this thing right .

When it comes to parenting, I’m not perfect.

I’ll wait for a moment while you take that in. I know it’s difficult to imagine.

As long as you don’t ask my kids, the previous statement should have shocked you.

But look at this.

It’s a parenting report card filled out by my orange hair, freckle face olive shoot back in 2007.

Here is my parent report card from my youngest olive shoot.

Here is my parent report card from my youngest olive shoot.

I so wish I could remember the name of the book where I discovered this idea. For my family, it’s been a gem assignment.

With no advance notice, we would print copies of the blank report card for our olive shoots to complete. Prior to our report card day, I didn’t load the guys up with yummy desserts and new electronics, the objective was to be honest. Usually I’d just tell the Hubs it was report card time for us.

P1010749Aren’t you curious to know what your kids would say about you?

After returning the completed the report cards to us, the Hubs and I would chuckle and compare notes. “Oh, yes you DO do that!” we’d scold each other and do our best to impose guilt and shame upon one another. That is a sign of a strong marriage, btw.

Then sheepishly we’d gather together to discuss the results.

To give you an idea as to how our olive shoots approached this task, they often wanted to apologize for not being able to give us a higher grade. It’s like we all entered a safe and sacred place. Never did I find our kids were wise in their own eyes in this instance. The Hubs and I were assessed on our parenting prowess. We took the feedback and tried to do better.

And there were recurrent themes, for instance, apparently I yell. For the record, the Hubs is inconsistent.

But, hey I am good at keeping things fun and got an A+ for building family traditions.

Ike didn't miss the chance to speak the truth in love and safety.

Ike didn’t miss the chance to speak the truth in love and safety.

On one level, it’s wildly amusing.

On another, it’s immensely humbling.

"Oh yes, I'd very much enjoy providing you with a loving and respectful assessment of your ability to parent me. Thank you for asking."

“Oh yes, I’d very much enjoy providing you with a loving and respectful assessment of your ability to parent me. Thank you for asking.”

I’m not a great math whiz. History was never my strong suit. I failed Political Science in college which messed my GPA up for the remainder of my college career. I shouldn’t be surprised I’m just a B average mom with spontaneous moments of greatness. That might be as good as it gets though I’ll keep trying.  It would be nice to make the A-B Parenting Honor Roll one of these days. Not gonna give up!

Question: What do you think about this idea? What do you think your kids would say? Is there anything you’d add to this list? I look forward to hearing from you!

7 things an honorable guy wants in a woman – what my sons say

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Two clueless people decide to get married. Engaged in France 1986

Two clueless people decide to get married. Engaged in France 1986

When I was single, I had my own list of husband qualities.

My future husband had to:

Be ambitious

Be a guy with low anger and rage issues

Love God

Own a set of pots and pans

Do his own laundry

Spontaneously give me flowers

I knew the Hubs was “the one” when I noticed he was a hard worker who didn’t fly off the handle when things didn’t go his way. He wanted to go to church with me and used spiritual words I had never understood despite some religious training. He competently washed his clothes and one day while getting me something to drink from the fridge, he handed me a bouquet of miniature roses. Sure, his pots and pans looked more like camping equipment and he gave me roses when I prefer wild flowers but yeah, close enough.

A giant gulp lodged in my throat when he nonchalantly gave me those flowers and a cold beer. About a year later, we were married. Tulips, delphinium and daffodils still arrive at home without reason from this guy. I’m a blessed woman.

Now my boys are entering relationships. We enjoy open conversation with our olive shoots about what makes a young lady worthy of their time and attention. My prayers were answered when I married their dad. Now I pray for them and their future spouses. Here are a few things on their collective lists:

Three great guys who have high standards.

Three great guys who have high standards.

They desire a woman who:

Loves Jesus – my boys have a personal relationship with Christ, this is a non-negotiable that she know the Lord.

Is attractive and in good shape – What guy do you know who doesn’t want his friends to say, “Dude, how did YOU end up with someone this fine???”

Has a sense of humor – Not a comedienne but a witty, clever girl, you know, like their mama and stuff.

Wants a family – These guys want kids, they talk about being dads, it’s an exciting thing to consider fatherhood and they have been given a wonderful role model. If she doesn’t want children, this isn’t going to work.

Desires to take care of a home – My sons pray for wives who have a joy in domesticity and believe in the art of homemaking. It’s a shame that our world trivializes this, they are admirable and natural things.

Is unashamedly intelligent – The ministry minded middle loves to discuss theological concerns, my Soldier is a huge bibliophile. My orange hair, freckle face OS finds it annoying when girls try to act dumb. Being a smart female is very desirable to my olive shoots. I am relieved to hear them say this is important.

Has a good relationship with her family and likes us too – If she can’t get along with her family, how is she going to get along with ours? She will soon discover we are a family with flaws. If we aren’t crazy about her, won’t that just be awkward and discouraging? They are independent young men but they realize you don’t marry just the girl but the whole family.

This is just a partial list and I’m pleased to say I have thus far approved of my sons’ selections of young women to pursue. If I get their permission, perhaps I’ll write more.

Questions: If you are the mother of sons, do you ask your boys what they desire in a wife? What are the qualities they mention? Don’t you wish this was a more common parent/child conversation?

One day, three boys

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Last Saturday, my olive shoots were in three diametrically opposed places geographically, emotionally and spiritually.

  1. My ministry minded middle was flying back to school following a two-week tour of the southwest with Moody Men’s Choir.
  2. Ike, my orange hair, freckle face guy was feeling like a ginger VIP hanging with the Chicago Bulls and his Aunt Lorri in the Windy City. Truly an event worthy of its own blog post.

    That's just Ike and his new best friend, Stacy King, former Chicago Bulls player, nbd.

    That’s just Ike and his new best friend, Stacey King, former Chicago Bulls player, nbd.

  3. And then bringing up the rear, far, far behind, was my Soldier. He called us from Georgia while on his way to Wal-Mart to make a most unusual purchase. Rat poison.

Following a most enlightening conversation with our oldest OS, I proceeded to write him a letter, I mean, what else could I do? I’m sharing the contents of this letter with you should your child ever inform you s/he is on his/her way to buy rat poison. Yes, I do occasionally refer to him as Sugar Boy.

Even if you do not identify with my children’s unique life situations, you will probably understand my mama’s heart. I ask a question at the end of this post and would love to hear from you.

Ok, here’s the letter.

Dear Sugar Boy,

We just got off the phone with you and as I look upon my dirty house filled with a million projects, suddenly the most important thing I can do is write you.

Having you as a son affords me many opportunities to pray. Having you as a son gives me an interesting life. Having you as a son means I laugh more, cry frequently, feel immensely proud while simultaneously feeling remarkably small and humble.

photo copy 8Hearing you angry and discouraged makes me want to rescue you and beat all those jerks up! Have they not encountered a mother’s wrath? SERIOUSLY! Yet this is the life you have chosen. When others went easy, you deliberately picked the gritty and tough. You can do this. One day you will be astonished at what you did and see the manifold ways the LORD gave you the strength to persevere.

Trust me learning your son was cuddled by a rat is quite odd. I incline my ear to the Lord and ask for what purpose is this happening? And then at that moment, I trust.

Allow God to fulfill the work He has set forth in your life. There is no time of day or night when I am not loving you or thinking about you. Hold firm to your faith. Do not allow tormenters or enemies to bring you down. Pay attention to the blessings nearby…that the rat scurried by and did not bite, that you have a sense of humor, that you are able to withstand more than most.

My Soldier

My Soldier

Now I will go straighten up my messy house hoping to keep the rats away as well.

Be strong, my precious Soldier and son. I love you,

mama
Question: What has being a parent to your child afforded you? How has God used your children to mold and shape you as a person?

Five minute Friday – rest

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My first and only poem to spaghetti.

My first and only poem to spaghetti.

Oh big pot of spaghetti, do not fret

Though your Ranger Soldier isn’t back yet

Soon you will feed him and bring his lips taste

He’s been eating MRE’s, licking the wrappers as not to waste

Your zest and your flavors, your love and your care

Will renew him on eagle’s wings, he will return to the training field and then you will dare

To go back into the cabinet, wishing you could have done more

Life is exciting with a Soldier to adore!

The day will fly by, be satisfied with your task

You nourished a man who will praise God for the delicious repast

"Please feed me!" "We will, Sugar Boy!"

“Please feed me!” “We will, Sugar Boy!”

So while you can, Spaghetti, get your rest

Tomorrow’s your big day, you’re truly feeding the best of the best!

Five minutes of writing, it's wonderful for wordsmiths!

Five minutes of writing, it’s wonderful for wordsmiths!

Soldier Sauce

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"Please feed me!" "We will, Sugar Boy!"

“Please feed me!” “We will, Sugar Boy!”

Today I announced to my orange freckle, orange hair olive shoot that he was going to help me prepare spaghetti sauce for his brother. Ike is on Spring Break and unlike some of his friends who are on safaris or at the beach, Ike is going to Fort Benning in a few days. Woot. There he will see his older brother, Nate who will be on an eight-hour pass from Ranger School. The entire day will be spent attending to Nate, nothing, but Nate.

So how did Ike respond to my request for kitchen assistance?

With a zesty YES as hearty as the sauce we would soon create?

or with a disgruntled hrmph like a jar of moldy Ragu?

If you said, “B” you would be correct. Ike did not leap into action. The idea of being my sous-chef was irritating to him at best. At one point, I told him that if he continued to complain, he wouldn’t be going anywhere. That caught his attention.

My intention isn’t to belittle my olive shoot and say he’s a slug of a son. Oh no.

This kid can throw down.

This kid can throw down.

Once he got his mind around the task, Ike browned those ribs and spicy sausage. My youngest olive shoot chopped that garlic, the dude mixed that tomato sauce masterfully. The annoyance that had invaded his spirit disappeared. As he made the sauce, I worked on the meatballs. Time flew by. Instead of bitterness, we savored our time together. This whole pot of sauce is for Nate.

Our Soldier has been eating MRE (Meals Ready to Eat) during Ranger School = blech! According to Nate’s letters, he is so famished, he’s even licking the MRE wrappers!

Does this not sound like a man deserving of a soul-satisfying repast?

We have been warned that he will have lost considerable weight since we saw him last. With only eight hours of rest, we have limited time to bless and refresh our Soldier. As Ike and I turned our sights from ourselves to another more deserving, the time was flavored with grace.

May this sauce grant my Soldier strength and renewal to continue on in Ranger School!

May this sauce grant my Soldier strength and renewal to continue on in Ranger School!

Oh if I only had smell-a-vision. There were many life lessons gleaned from this kitchen today. Just wondering, can you relate to Ike or me? Should I post the recipe? Do you dare even invite your boys to cook in the kitchen with you?

Five minute Friday – home

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I came home to these people.

I came home to these people.

I became a full-time stay-at-home mom 15 years ago on my husband’s birthday. I wanted to mark that significant day on a day I wouldn’t forget. March 6th is now a day of double celebration for my family.

For so long the ambition of my life was to get respect and recognition.

My observation of full-time motherhood was that it was rife with disrespect and sadness. Obviously I wanted none of that. So I had my own business, attended graduate school, practiced writing M.Ed. at the end of my name.

Individually these things are not wrong. But ultimately they were not what the Lord had for me.

On March 6, 1998, I started working for a new boss. I no longer served myself. A cataclysmic shift occurred in my heart.

God wanted me home.

With only five minutes to write, you'll have to trust me. This is what happened to me when I decided to stay home. Thanks be to God.

With only five minutes to write, you’ll have to trust me. This is what happened to me when I decided to stay home. Thanks be to God.

When I made that decision, priorities changed. My three olive shoots no longer attended day care or after school programs, they returned home to me. The significance sought outside in the world, was comfortably discovered within. Parts of me I had long denied began to blossom.

Within my home

Within my soul

There are times when I don’t always feel appreciated but I felt that way in the business world as well. This is where I belong. Home.

We rock one word for FIVE MINUTES! It's the best! Join the fun!

We rock one word for FIVE MINUTES! It’s the best! Join the fun!

Pleasure and fulfillment rest with my decision, something I will never regret.

Motherhood gets easier and more difficult, that’s my story and I guess I’m sticking to it

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“My prayer life has exponentially increased since you guys have gotten older.” 

This was my recent statement to my ministry minded middle many miles away. (Hope you enjoyed the alliteration)!

Foolishly I supposed that my olive shoots would be good to go when they got up and went. WRONG.

A text my Soldier sent me. He knows I love words and have experienced a great deal of shemozzle lately.

A text my Soldier sent me. He knows I love words and have experienced a great deal of shemozzle lately.

I have discovered that there is great shemozzle in the land outside the oasis of my home. Frankly, chaos can also stir within our own abode as well but WOW, I’m often shaking my head in disbelief at the trouble in the world. And I’m not talking about the country’s problems, either.

Ten days ago, I took the Hubs to the hospital because the urgent care facility thought he had a ruptured spleen (he didn’t but the Hubs has a broken rib and chest contusions following a very random fall). Hours later my oldest OS began Ranger School. That sounds like a very full day but there was more.

Write, pray, walk, read, draw, maybe clean the kitchen, cook, write, pray, walk, read, draw, maybe vacuum, repeat

Write, pray, walk, read, draw, maybe clean the kitchen, cook, write, pray, walk, read, draw, maybe vacuum, repeat

Later that afternoon my ministry minded middle called me with a very distressing situation. My head and heart were overwhelmed and utterly incredulous.

Then the orange hair, freckle face OS had a basketball game that night. All I wanted to do was enclose him in bubble wrap.

“Oh Father, I pray that nothing else happens today.”

Ike was fine but the Hubs was in so much pain, I considered calling an ambulance.

I used to pray for my olive shoots to be potty trained, to not hit their brothers. I lifted them up to the Lord for sportsmanship, purity, kindness, respect.

They are potty trained and refrain from random acts of violence. We have made progress. Now my job has changed. It struck me, if I did nothing else during the day, I should at least be praying for my olive shoots. If you see me walking, I am not talking to myself. I do not hear pretend voices, do not be afraid. I do not own a Blue Tooth either. I am simply praying to the Lord, probably for my kids. And the Hubs. And me. Maybe even for you which is not quite as random as it might seem.

These are the things which cheer my soul. Can you relate?

These are the things which cheer my soul. Can you relate?

This Scripture I have drawn, it was part of my weekly reading for a women’s Bible study? Coincidence? HA! I needed to read these and claim them!

Can you identify with any of the cares of my heart that I have listed? How about the consolations? Please share!

Bless me, Mama

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Here are just a few of the people I pray for on the regular.

Here are just a few of the people I pray for on the regular.

My 16-year-old walks into the kitchen and I’m slicing strawberries. He’s got a basketball game in a few hours and is heading out the door.

“Bless me, Mama,” he says.

My thin, ginger wisp stands near my side by the sink.

This is the moment every Christian mom hopes will happen and today’s my day. This is cool. I’m going to write about this I vow to myself.

“Oh, ok, I can do that.” I stop slicing. My strawberry stained fingers lift into the air and words flow from my lips.

But no sooner did I finish the first sentence then Ike interrupts me and says,

“Mom, I didn’t mean it!”

You can’t be serious, Child.

That ginger in the jacket, yeah, that's the kid I just prayed for!

That ginger in the jacket, yeah, that’s the kid I just prayed for!

For a second, I hesitated.

Then what did I do? I prayed for him anyway. #shablam

He had a great game. The team won. I did not cause these things by my prayers but I was obedient to the Lord.

Time and desire to pray have increased since beginning the YouVersion 21 Day Challenge. Other crazy, interesting things are also happening which perhaps I will share one day.

I love and admire this potato head.

I love and admire this potato head.

But the words “Bless me, Mama” resonate within me again.

My oldest olive shoot begins pre-Ranger school tomorrow at 11:45. Gulp. He will sleep on the ground and be pushed to his physical and mental brink. Many fail, it is beyond challenging.

“Bless me, Mama” is my charge as his mother. Nathaniel, my gift, I speak blessings and success into your journey. Oh how I treasure you. Shine brightly.

My ministry-minded middle will soon speak to group of high school students. About the subject of love. Basically it’s his first preaching opportunity. Plus each Friday he goes into the inner city of Chicago to reach high risk young kids with the Gospel. “Bless me, Mama.” I do, Aaron, I do.

Aaron loves this ministry and the kids he meets! Thanks be to God!

Aaron loves this ministry and the kids he meets! Thanks be to God!

May I be fruitful with all you have given me, My Holy One. Allow me to seize every opportunity to pray. Grant me knowledge to embrace ways to boldly proclaim your truth and loving kindness, as a mom, as a woman; every role I play, Father may it be so all the days of my life.

Amen