Category Archives: motherhood

Isaac’s sweet potato times

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When your big brother attends West Point and is at Fort Knox shooting a 68 ton Abrams tank and your middle brother is in Guatemala witnessing miracles and doing evangelical street dramas, a freckle-faced, orange haired, 12 year old kid has some major pressure on him. What can he do to make his summer fun-filled and exciting? Who can help him create memories to last a lifetime?


Answer: All you need are some giant sweet potatoes and a very silly mama

Thankfully Ike had both of these things readily available on a recent July afternoon. With my trusty digital camera on hand, Ike and I transformed an otherwise ho-hum July afternoon into a fairly weird occasion. We took some ordinary, ok, not so ordinary sweet potatoes and decided to make our own summer memories. Here are the results


So check your pantry, people and see what treasures await your family! Or go to your local farmer’s market and find the funkiest fruit or grotesquely shaped veggie out there. Buy it before some other mother snatches it out of your hands and then start taking pictures and let your creativity loose.

On the mission field, part two ~ new creation

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It occurred to me that this young mother didn’t want just anyone to cut her two year old’s hair…she wanted ME! WHAT??? Didn’t she know that I had never cut anyone’s hair, including my own three OS? Didn’t she know I farmed out that service to qualified hands? Where’s a Sports Clips or a Great Clips when you need one?

The mom returned, scissors in hand and I ridiculously asked her what kind of haircut she wanted her daughter to have. This is funny because it wasn’t like I had a variety of coifs from which to choose. That’s when she blew my mind and informed me that the child in front of me with a long, thick ponytail wasn’t a girl ~ this little person was a boy! Huh? And his name was Richard, not Ricardo. Dumbfounded I stood by a dusty boulder in this forsaken village. The pressure was on. My heart pounded faster.

I prayed to Jesus and put the scissors in my hand and began the job. Richard was the best client a stylist as new and inexperienced as I could ever want. So still, so patient, if he only knew who was about to give him his first haircut! At first I just simply cut the long ponytail but as I looked at the precious face before me, something came over me. I felt empowered to do more. The scissors began trimming around Richard’s ears, giving him bangs, the whole works. There was some styling going on! Richard’s mom gathered some of his locks into a plastic bag I as many American moms have done in the past. I don’t believe I cut Richard’s hair. I believe God did.


Then she asked me my name and told me that the first person who cuts a baby’s hair became that child’s godmother. Oh my goodness.

I stood there, astonished and handed the young mama the bottle of shampoo. At long last, the Bumble and Bumble had found its rightful owner. She gave a heartfelt thank you and scooped up Richard. Just before it was time to board the bus and say farewell, this Peruvian mama returned and paraded Richard in front of me. She must have taken him into her simple abode and used the shampoo immediately. There in front of me stood Richard, his hair was freshly washed, wearing a collared shirt looking cute as can be. This child looked like a little boy!

I wonder what my OS is learning and where he is in Guatemala. What are his stories? I can’t wait to know! I’ve learned this and I’m sure he is as well. The Lord can use our simple gifts, our imperfect efforts (which I have in abundance.) This is the power of transformation.

I have another story about shampoo, this time in El Salvador. Do you want to hear it? Tell me your story about transformation, I’d love to hear it!

Being on the mission field, part one

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Prior to going to Guatemala, I gave my middle OS a project. A crafting project. Most 14 year old boys don’t really like doing crafts. My 14 year old boy is no exception but with constant prodding on behalf of his mom, my son made these…

Aren’t they pretty? So simple and cheap but I just know that God is going to use that boy and these necklaces in a powerful way. How do I know? Because two years ago I had a similar experience. Not with a craft item but with a simple bottle of shampoo.

In July 2007, I went to Lima, Peru on a mission trip. Prior to leaving my hairstylist, (the one who puts pink highlights in my hair), gave me a big bottle of Bumble and Bumble shampoo to use there. Not for my head, there would be no vanity on this trip, but because we were going to be washing children’s hair. In certain areas of Peru, people can’t even afford shampoo, it is a luxury they often do without. I packed it eagerly curious as to what the Lord had in store.

Weeks later, to my astonishment, I found myself washing children’s hair on a filthy, dirt-covered street. The kids would just line up and with nary a peep, we would pour cold water from a hose on their head. With plastic gloves, I would squirt a dollop of shampoo on their little charcoal black heads and proceed to wash their thick Peruvian hair. We used buckets to rinse the water and their attentive mothers would just look on and act so grateful. It was rather amusing because there were even adult men lining up for our hair washing services but we had to decline and concentrate just on the kids.

It was our last day on the mission field. The big bottle of shampoo I was given had been too cumbersome to lug around for our hair washing projects so I still had it in my possession. I certainly wasn’t going to be taking it back home with me. I trusted it was meant for someone else so I placed big bottle in my backpack determined to give it to someone deserving.

We arrived at an impoverished village. The ramshackle homes spoke of a hard life bereft of most creature comforts. I helped prepare chicken foot (yes, chicken FOOT) soup and served hot chocolate to the scads of children milling about.
Another group washed hair and when we were nearly all done, a mother approached me. Through the help of a translator, she asked me if we cut hair. I knew I didn’t cut hair so I went the easy route and said we didn’t have any scissors. Then she told me, not to worry, she had scissors.

Because I’m so quick on my feet (HA!), I presumed someone could do it and I told this mama we could probably do that. I went inside the bus and asked if anyone cut hair. No one listened to me and then it occurred to me that she wanted ME to cut her child’s hair…something I have never done before, not in my own country and certainly not in South America…


I’ll write another post and tell you what happened next…

June 29th is a curious day

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What is up with these kids of mine? They are all gone as of Monday. And what is up with June 29th? This is the second year in the row that I have bid farewell to one of my OS on that blemished day. When I told my boys that I wanted them to be confident, independent people, I wasn’t thinking they were going to take me seriously! When I told them to go where the Lord wanted them, I still hadn’t finished praying specifically that it was just going to be up the street not far away as in West Point or Guatemala! Zheesh!

How come they listen to me about developing into their own person and following the Lord’s leading but these guys can’t seem to remember to pick their clothes up off the floor?? Kids these days…

The house is now empty. Nate has been gone for two weeks at Camp Buckner until 15 July (I wrote it the Army way ~ huah.) He is doing fun things like shooting stuff, sleeping on rocks and other assorted merriment. Ike, my not so little orange-haired, freckle-faced 12 year old left for Crossroads, a Christian summer camp complete with a tummy ache just prior to leaving. Miss me!

And then there’s my middle OS whose journey-bound to Guatemala. Wasn’t I the one who prodded this kid in the fall? “Aaron, you really should go. Aaron, this trip is made for you ~ you’re gonna love it and it will mess with you (in a good way.) Aaron, I’m tellin‘ ya, you really should pray about doing this…” He listened and now look at me. Waa.

This will be Aaron’s first trip overseas and it’s without us! What was I thinking? I truly believe this is where the Lord wants my boy and I am excited to hear about all that he experiences along the way. I know my OS will have a blast as he uses the talents the Lord has given him to minister to the people he encounters but I am admittedly human and already miss him.


We took the OS to the airport yesterday and I think if it had been possible he could have flapped his wings and flown to Miami all by himself. “I’m pumped!” was the frequently heard sentence for the last two days. I hung onto my OS’s neck and once outside my grasp, Aaron strode confidently to the security gates.


Just like his brother on R-Day, Aaron never turned around and ran back into my arms – my open arms that desperately wanted to hold him back but didn’t because it would have been way wrong.

Here is Aaron – June 29th, 2009

This is Nate – June 29th, 2008 ~ This is a picture I can barely look at, oh the anguish and the pride of that day!

Instead, just like his brother last June 29th on R-Day, Aaron moved forward to his destination and never looked back. I guess those are indications that just like his brother, Aaron was ready to leave. Not because he hates his parents or his life but because it is time. That is a good thing, right??? Somebody tell me “Cindy, this is a good thing!”

Three girls going on the same mission trip were flying out on the same flight. It was delayed by four hours and I distinctly recall talking to Aaron and he said he was having fun with his “friends.” They even all sat together on the plane! We spoke to him later that night and he was giggling and having trouble finishing our conversation. Why? He was having fun with his “buddies” already cracking jokes with the fellas on the trip.


The fourth of July is this week but I think June 29th is fast becoming our family’s Independence Day.

Stinky Boy

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It is safe to go outside and bre- athe. Wher- ever you live in the con-tiguous United States, I imagine you have noticed how suddenly the air quality has improved. I know why, my friends. I know why.


My oldest OS took a shower. That putrid smell you have been inhaling is gone! After three days of extensive field training at Camp Buckner, my odious oliveshoot received a much-needed and merited blessed encounter with hot water, soap and shampoo. All is well! The fog has been lifted!

If Nate smelled anything like he did when we picked him up for Christmas break, that child certainly was ripe without a shower for three days. During Christmas break, Nate’s flight had been delayed and he came home a day late. He had to return to West Point and since it is fairly shut down during Christmas, he returned to WP unable to wash up. When we picked him up, I felt like I was hugging Pigpen…remember stinky Pigpen from the Snoopy cartoons? My boy was a handsome yet acrid mix of perspiration, bad cologne and an onion-like smell, ew.

This time at Camp Buckner, affectionately known as Camp Fun-Fun, my Soldier has not enjoyed slumber on a soft cot with a Green Girl each night. To the contrary. This week Nate had his first experience sleeping on a rock. I never thought about having a child who has slept (should I say, passed out!) on a rock. Hmmmm… He pulled security for two nights and maybe got only six hours of sleep in two days. He chomped on David’s Sunflower Seeds (it’s better than chew!) and kept vigil all night taking only small naps while his buddy kept watch. I have seen my OS grumpy from sleep deprivation so I pity anyone who had to endure his wrath. On the other hand, that might be something special Nate just saves for his mama… 😉

At one point, covered in muck and sweat, his Company did a six mile ruck (hike/march) up a mountain. Nate likened it to climbing up a very steep gravel road. Then his foot began to ache and he feared that somehow it was broken. He hobbled 15 minutes on his lame foot in order to get transported for medical attention. A smelly, overtired 19 year old with sharp foot pains must have been quite a sight. My own experience with a broken foot left me rejoicing when he told us that he just had tendonitis and merely needs to tape his foot and take some anti-inflammatory medicine.

I don’t know what to think when my son relays this information. Am I worried? Yes. Am I proud? Absolutely. Am I scared? Sometimes. I love hearing his stories and at once find it all terribly exciting tinged with some maternal anxiety, after all this is MY boy.


Before I became the mama of a Soldier, I was immune and ignorant to the sacrifice of our service people. The scales from my eyes have been lifted, as the Bible says, because I am learning firsthand all that we require and expect from our military. And how many of us don’t truly appreciate all that’s done for freedom.

They don’t get to sleep on comfy beds every night or enjoy time with their family when they are out on a mission. Instead they protect us.

I think of my OS with leaves stuffed all over his helmet, camo paint covering his face and ears, exhausted and reeking to high heavens and I experience a mixture of humility and gratitude. Whoa. There are so many servicemen and women out on the real battlefield doing the same, risking their lives for you and me and countless others. I have a cousin who is an Army Chaplain serving overseas, what a brave and selfless man!

Soldiers gobbling up those MREs, (meal, ready to eat) hobbling around on a wobbly leg, finding a grit within themselves most of us can’t imagine and we take it for granted.

So today as you enjoy the fresh summer air or as you are soaking in a tub or relishing the hot water flowing out of your shower, take a moment to lift up those in the military who didn’t have that luxury. Pray for them, their families, thank them in some way.
We can all breathe a lot easier because of our service people even if they haven’t bathed in days…

A boy, a summer and two sweet potatoes

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Take one mom, a 12 year old son and two sweet po- tatoes and whad- dya get? These strange and awkward pictures…


It was Sunday and we made our usual trek to the farmer’s market. I’m going to the local farmer’s market so often, I recently was shocked to notice how chilly it is in regular grocery stores! But at the farmer’s market, virtually all the food I purchase is room temperature (at least until things really heat up around here.)
And in addition to buying this amazing goat cheese, green lettuce and other treasures, (I have a good supply of beets, thank goodness!) we bought a trusty stash of Beauregard sweet potatoes. As usual, our family likes to pick out the funny shaped tubers because well, we like to laugh while preparing and eating our food. There are some very hilarious shapes, let me tell you ~ especially if you are the mom of three OS!


We purchased these big fellas complete with our standard sweet potato chuckles. When we got home and it was time to get dinner ready, I asked my trusty sidekick, my little orange-haired OS, Isaac to help me. We stoked up the grill but before we put those suckers on the hot coals, I used my creative genius, (yes I said genius) and took these pictures.

I am the proud mama of a Soldier, a fella heading out to Guatemala to serve Jesus for two weeks and now, at long last, I am the mama of a…

spud muffin



So next time you have your pre- teen child nearby and some healthy food around, don’t forget the camera! Duh!

Milestones and recognition

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pubertyWe usually think of milestones in our children when they are little.

They start to roll over and drink from a cup, say their first words.

Big whoop. (Said as a mom of kids that are over that!).

Those things are a big deal but our OS have experienced milestones of their own recently that I just have to share.

How ironic (that is, if I believed in irony) that each of my OS would cross a major threshold in their lives at practically the same time.

May I have your attention, please?

Ike became a seventh grader. Woo hoo!

Aaron became a sophomore.

Take that you annoying upper classmen!

And…cue the snare drums…

Nate became a recognized plebe. Crowd goes wild!

No longer are my boys at the bottom of their respective proverbial social heaps of life. (Was that an awkward sentence?) After all the travail and toil, when it seemed as if the day would never arrive, my OS are happy to be movin’ on up, just like the Jefferson’s, remember those guys???

This means that Ike is eager to try out for basketball and not have annoying eighth graders hogging up the good spots. As long as he keeps his grades up and his tongue in control, my orange-haired fella will be just fine.

For Aaron, being a sophomore means the leadership skills he has honed this past year that will serve him well and he is positioned to forge ahead in whatever way the Lord directs.

But neither of them went through the valley like Nate. Sure, it’s tough being a sixth grader. And no one would dispute that a 9th grader is pretty low on the high school totem pool.

But try being a plebe. Just a few days ago, Nate successfully completed his plebe year. To a large extent, I feel like I also completed my own plebe year as a mom. I need my own badge or pin for surviving! I was counting down the days when Nate would make this transition, he’s been more than ready!

As I reflect on this last year, oh, my soul, there were so many days when I just wanted to scoop my baby up and take him home.

R-Day+and+after+244How could he endure such treatment?
Why did they have to be so sassy and mean to MY child? He doesn’t have to put up with that! (insert the “that” of your choice, especially if you have a cadet at WP or are a USMA grad!)

And while I’m at it, why couldn’t the professors understand that my boy was overworked and needed a break? Or had a nasty cold?

Despite my numerous offers to contact the higher-ups and plead his case, Nate never budged. He could handle it.

(For the record, if any WP folks are reading this, I would honestly have never done that but I thought about it. Nate would have KILLED me! I would have been disowned as a mama!)

And my OS finished really well. Since I will get in trouble if I say too much, let me say Nate should be very proud of himself. Thanks be to God!

A Spirit Week Day we won't soon forget.

A Spirit Week Day we won’t soon forget.

P1070031On Thursday, Nate got recognized.

It was a day he has been talking about for weeks.

What does getting recognized mean?

Well, at West Point, when you have completed your plebe year, there is a special moment, almost divine in nature, when the upper class cadets, acknowledge your existence.

Instead of calling you “Cadet Last Name,” the cadets extend a hand of fellowship your way. They shake your hand and learn something very wonderful about you. They learn you have a FIRST name! That is a MAJOR event in the life of a plebe!

Imagine living in a confined place for nearly a year and not having someone call you by your first name. Or having to wear a uniform every.single.time.you.go.out.of.your.room.

And consider for a moment, not being able to talk once you leave the confines of your room.

But Nathan did and the transition from lowly plebe class to becoming a Private First Class is something so sweet. He strutted outside his room in cadet casual (khaki pants and shirt) and acknowledged people by their first name. He didn’t have to cup his hands or do any of those things that have been the bane of his existence for the last 11 months.

Plebes are people too!

Plebes are people too!

Liberation,

exhilaration,

jubilation sum up how he felt stepping out as a PFC.

Lest my awesome OS become too content, reality will come crashing down on him. Tomorrow he begins Air Assault School and rumor has it, it’s not a picnic.

If you are reading this, please pray for the cadets as they begin a grueling 11 day training school. Nate must pass this in order to come home June 6th.

If he doesn’t pass, (and apparently many will not), he will automatically be re-enrolled and spend another 11 days there until he passes.

O Happy Day!

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Today is a glorious day, a fantabulous day. A day when the sun is shining brighter, the birds are chirping louder, even the dark lines around my eyes seem to be fading away without the use of my trusty Bobbi Brown concealer. Why you ask am I such a cheerful soul? I’m glad you asked…


MY OS IS HOME AND NEARLY DONE WITH HIS PLEBE YEAR!!! 

O HAPPY DAY! 

This afternoon when the younger OS got home, we fluttered around the house.  I wanted everything spic and span, no excuses. It was as if the King of England (is there a King of England??) or of some other foreign country was coming to visit. It struck me as funny because it’s not like Nathan has never seen our house messy before. I mean, the guy was an active contributor to the clutter in our home for 19 years but I wanted him to walk in and think that things looked nice, not as if he was a guest but just a treasured member of our family. He’s the kind of guy who notices that sort of thing.  I knew it would bless him. 


My oldest OS is home until Sunday and is just days away from becoming a yuk (second year student). A year ago, on this day, I was clutching Kleenex and struggling to breathe out of my mouth because the tears were overwhelming and pretty much non-stop. Our oldest OS was graduating on this day last year and I was wrought with emotion. Sadness, joy, pride, fear, love, excitement…I remember one night my mother visiting and all my feelings bubbling to the surface. I confessed to her, “Mom, I’m not sure I can do this” and I utterly broke down. My precious mom pushed aside her own feelings regarding her first grandchild finishing a chapter of his life and starting a bold new journey and she simply ministered to me and my aching mama’s heart. 

Somehow by the grace of God and I say that with all seriousness, I got through the graduation ceremony. And somehow by the grace of God, our family survived R-Day six weeks later including the long 10 hour ride back to our house without our cherished son.

And here I sit in my tidy house and tonight feels peaceful. Like that feeling you get when there’s a bad thunderstorm outside and all your babies are safe and at home. Or like when you wake up on Christmas morning and there’s presents to open and your kids are all getting along (at least until all the gifts are open). Everything is in its place, all is right with the world. 


I vividly recall those moments when Nate was a baby and I longed for the days when he would be grown and I’d finally have some peace and quiet. When he was on a crying jag or going full throttle on a temper tantrum, I wished he would just hurry up and get older. It annoyed me when older folks would chide me about how fast time passes. Inwardly I rolled my eyes at their comments. And now look at me! Those days are here and I find myself happy and sad. My DH calls me a “complex organism” when I get in one of these moods. Do I smack him or just humbly agree?

Nate’s friends will be over at the house soon and the sounds of young men will fill my house. I will live in this moment and find the tranquil beauty of it all. O happy day!

Floods

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Like all good daughters, I have subscribed a number of MY personal issues onto my mother. Because of my mom, I (fill in the blank)______________. Many of you probably can relate and would admit that the mother/daughter relationship thing can be hard and complicated. Maybe that’s why the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, choose to bless me with three sons! To demonstrate, here is but a small list of the things I have blamed my mother for in the past:


I lack athletic prowess because my mom didn’t stress the value of sports.
I don’t know how to swim because my mom never took me for swimming lessons as a small child.
I am bad with money because my mom didn’t teach me the value of a dollar.

And the list goes on and on…I will stop there as to not further embarrass myself. 

But yesterday, I found myself humbled and blessed. Something that has long been on my “list” needs to be removed.

For decades now I have told people that there are not a lot of photos of me when I was a child. If you and I were in a random conversation and you happened to mention something about pictures of yourself as a kid, I would probably have sighed heavily and told you of my picture woes. (Strum sappy violin music). When I was a girl growing up in Wheaton, Illinois, we had a flood in our basement and it destroyed, among other things, boxes and boxes of pictures. I recall the soggy, blobby paper mess and the dismay I felt in my young girl’s heart as I saw my memories destroyed. Who was to blame for the flood? Well, it honestly didn’t matter, I knew the culprit. I suspect you can guess my prime suspect. Yes, it was my mom. 

This week, following a meeting with my favorite organization consultant, I began the necessary and tedious task of de-cluttering my home. In various closets, possibly in every room there is a box or basket full of pictures. This week I have begun to weed through them, tossing out the bad photos, hanging on to the good ones. Geralin has a theory about pictures which I now claim as my own. She says, “if I don’t look good in the picture, then it goes.” Geralin’s my girl, one of my fab five, as my youngest OS would jest.

I am amazed at the scads of pictures we have EVERYWHERE! The stockpiles of pictures blurred my head as I tossed one photo after another into the trash. It has been freeing to re-claim lost closet space and re-discover sweet pictures of days gone by.

And last night, I believe the Lord healed a part of me because in the frenzied mass of photos, I am finding a lot of pictures of myself. There are many of me as a little girl on random Picture Days, a couple of me walking up the sidewalk for my first day of kindergarten, a few particularly unflattering pics of me blowing out candles on a birthday cake as a pimply teen, you get the idea. 

Oh, dear friends, I have found me. 


My past was not completely destroyed in that basement. There were salvages of my life still preserved, in greater proportion than I ever realized.

And so in the tv room, after everyone was in bed, I held picture after picture of myself in my hands and drifted back to those moments. They are not gone. They are preserved both in these pictures but also within me. Sorting through all the clutter and getting rid of the unnecessary, buried among it all, was Cindy. She hadn’t dissolved away into nothingness. As I make room in my home, I am finding new places in my spirit as well.

I’m learning that I can no longer blame my mom for a lot of things I have done in the past. Honestly, I have been aware of that for about 12 years now since asking Jesus into my heart and looking squarely at my own contrition and culpability. But how immature I have been to blame an act of God like a flood on my poor mother. I mean really. For goodness sake, she had no control over it no matter how much power I think a mama can wield. 

I hesitate for a moment and wonder to myself. Actually, a jab of anxiety wafts over me…what will my OS blame me for? What will be something that they say I should have done differently? Will we just laugh about it or will I carry around grief and guilt. Ew. What salvages of their own shortcomings will they try and attribute to me, their mom who, like my own, is trying the very best she can to make a sweet and wonderful life for them?


That is not something that I can answer. Today I’d rather focus on what I can claim victory over. I found me. I, or rather, remnants of me, weren’t swept away in an unpredictable flood.  And if all the pictures were gone, I now admit it wouldn’t have been my mom’s fault in the first place. 

When we went out for a late-night run to the grocery store to buy dish washing detergent, (doesn’t that sound like a fun outing!?), I decided to release this guilt from her once and for all. She has been staying at my house recovering from surgery on her wrist and a bout of pneumonia. The healing process has been painful and discouraging but last night, I believe both of us got healed in a way we weren’t expecting. We got in the car and I couldn’t wait to tell her my revelation. It wasn’t a gushy moment but I felt a weight off my heart and I noticed she had a look of contentment on her face and it wasn’t because we were going to buy dish washing detergent at 10pm! 
 

Guilt and blame, in all of its forms, are as destructive as a flood. Forgiveness and grace, on the other hand, fellow imperfect mamas of the world, well that can wash over a multitude of sins. 

Hallelujah, grace like rain, washing down on me…


Hmmm…