Advice from a young bride about being a good mother-in-law

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Pretty, young and wise

Pretty, young and wise

Today’s post is from my friend, Hannah. I wrote a blog post about a time we recently spent together and when I learned she was a writer, an idea was born! She just celebrated her NINE MONTH wedding ann- iversary and I knew her fresh observations as a daughter-in-law would be useful to me. Lord willing, one day I will welcome three daughters-in-law into this family. Here’s her story and reflections.

I marry my best friend at the not-so-young age of 19. He’s been my best friend since I was 15 years old and my childhood fleets quickly. A ring finds its way on my finger, one on his too. We become one, and I become a Daniel.

August 4th, 2012 is birthed into this earth and the small church to the right of the one-road-town fills quickly.

Marrying Andrew is the best decision I ever made, besides my salvation. But can I share a not-so-secret? Not only did I hit the jackpot by marrying an incredible God-loving, handsome man, but I hit the Lotto when I got his family as mine, too.

Not that mine is bad but I enter his whole family coming from a broken one. There was yelling, stubbornness, and a divorce after 28 years of marriage for reasons I’ll never fully understand, yet my mum+dad love me, all the same.

For those reasons there is something almost magical about being a part of a family whole, untainted. Why? Because I’m now (treated like) part of a whole.

Especially by his Momma.

I know, right? She is much less Monster-in-Law’s (the movie with J-Lo) Jane Fonda and more like  an angel from heaven that you get to call mom, gives the best gifts and hugs and advice…and serves the best FOOD. Yes, always food. I TOLD you I hit the Lottery with this gem of a family! So bear with me while I brag, because if you wanna know why she is the best mom-in-law (MIL[s]) everrr and what you future or current MIL’s can do have an awesome relationship with your daughter-in-laws..weeeelll, I’ll let you in on her secrets.

549585_10151175544017033_28494589_nSincerity –  It’s all you need, really. Be a momma to your new daughter—You have raised a man that she loves, so find out why he loves her back! Be a spirit-bearer (Galatians 5:22-23), and invest into her life and get to know her. Personally, I know I felt home (yes, it’s a feeling!), when I felt like she wanted me to be there, a part of her family.

Get to know her, and want it – Especially as a new wife, it’s tempting to keep all the bad stuff about you hidden and only let the most spectacular things about you shine. Yet, somehow, this home feeling came for me when I knew she wanted to get to know me, not this fabricated version of who I’m not.  Ask her to help you fold laundry as a means for talking (yes, domesticity made me feel like family) and gain a level of friendship with her. Sincerely mean it when you say she’s family.

911412_455036954579193_497764209_n

What a great looking bunch!

Acceptance – From what I’ve observed, MILs see their daughter-in-laws (DILs) as a nuisance—someone invading and imposing on her family. I would hope DILs, just like MILs, are seen as a joy to be around.

Jesus teaches us to love our neighbor (DILs included!) as ourselves, and that can be a difficult burden or a wonderful blessing. Nevertheless, your call is still the same, “Love each other as I have loved you” (John 15:12). How? By letting facades fall: Be yourself and let her be herself (sins and all). You’ll become really appreciative of one another. (I know it’s true in my case).

And when all else fails –

912048_455036951245860_333159125_nPray – Can anything good happen apart from the Lord? Pray for her personally as a woman, a sister in Christ. Pray for her marriage to your son, for them to have a thriving marriage, reflecting the parable that it is: Christ and the Church. Pray for your relationship with her (especially if loving her is difficult).

Love her, sincerely; Accept her, fully; Pray for her, continually.

And I bet you will be a mother-in-law who is cherished.

Questions – What advice do you have for mother-in-laws? Daughters-in-law, what have you learned from your MIL?

Check out Hannah’s blog at Common Thought. Such a sweet and gifted young woman.

Five minute Friday – brave

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photo copy 2Why just typing about the subject of bravery is well, brave.

My heartbeat is increasing with each.word.placed.

An idea has been swirling in my head for a while now and I’m afraid. I scarcely allow myself to ponder this and now I’m nearing the moment of revealing it to you.

A sample of the things I used this week. I feel happy in the kitchen.

A sample of the things I used this week. I feel happy in the kitchen.

What if my idea succeeds? What if it’s a total failure? What’s my motivation? Do I have the physical, financial, emotional resources needed to make it work?

Speaking to over 50,000 teenagers about saving sex for marriage was brave. Sharing incredibly personal stories about my past was something I asked the Lord to help me with every time I did it and that was for nearly eight years.

But now the Lord is placing, (I think) an idea which scares me as much as the first time I entered a high school classroom full of very skeptical kids.

My dining room

My dining room

I’m thinking about opening my home to encourage women with cooking and hospitality. Not as a money making idea, not to sell any kitchen gadgets or products, but just to encourage women in the art of domesticity. This is something so very close to my essence as a wife, mother and homemaker.

I think about this idea when I am chopping red cabbage or stirring up a homemade salad dressing in the kitchen. When I’m roasting poblano peppers or making a pretty table setting for my family, I feel this urge to open my home and show others how to do it. I’m so not an expert which is why I’m afraid to try.

When I think about going forward, I bravely ask God, “Is this what you want me to do?” It’s sad that I don’t know any of my neighbors, what if they reject me? So many questions and doubts but yet an eagerness and an unction to try.

Writing for five minutes is a treasure. Do it!

Writing for five minutes is a treasure. Do it!

Should I do it? What is the brave thing you are contemplating?

Check out this word party. This might be the brave thing you need to do!

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!

The power of a praying proctologist

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"Thank you, Sir, may I have another?"

“Thank you, Sir, may I have another?”

All of the preparations for the colonoscopy went as expected; it was what occurred moments before the actual procedure that were a surprise. I planned on writing about my colonoscopy experience in an effort to help others but I KNEW I was going to write when my doctor surprised me.

As the medical team wheeled me into the area, we engaged in pleasant conversation. After all this time, things were finally ready. A sterile piece of equipment was soon headed where no man had trodden asunder.

But before the doctor began the colonoscopy, my doctor did the craziest thing.

He prayed for me.

And it wasn’t a haphazard, “I better do this because I’m a doctor in the Bible Belt” kind of supplication.

No, quite the contrary.

Um, yeah...

Um, yeah…

Instead, he gently leaned over me, the room grew still and he kindly placed his hands on me and prayed. As the words flowed out of his mouth, I remember distinctly feeling that this guy meant what he said.

Though there was a very embarrassing aspect of what was going to happen next, this man was caring for another part of me that was even more raw and I wouldn’t have thought that possible. It was my heart, the spiritual beating of my soul.

I didn’t feel like I was in a revival which is hilarious considering I was getting a colonoscopy and those things don’t usually go together. Nor did I sense that he was scared about what he was going to do so he had to ask Jesus for help. Instead I sensed humility, reverence and respect. He recognized that he was being entrusted with a special task. Our previous conversations have basically dealt with far more temporal matters, wink, wink. As I lay there on the table, I thought, “Thank you God. No matter what, this is going to be ok.”

And while I recognize that some people might find this whole praying notion super weird, for me, I wanted to sing with joy.

Before drifting into a fuzzy vapor, I declared, “You have no idea what a comfort your prayer was to me. Why didn’t I know this about you before? I’m going to tell all the ladies in my Bible Study about you!”

Then his assistant talked to me about Chicago cuisine.

Prayers!

Portillo’s!

Pizza!

Oh yes, what a glorious day! Bring on the colonoscopy!

And then poof, the procedure was done and I was awake. As if the experience couldn’t get more wonderful, I dreamt about Justin Bieber. Not even joking.

So here I sit praising God that I can sit.

I rejoice that my test results weren’t just good, y’all they were “EXCELLENT.” Every aspect of the tests were EXCELLENT! #shablam #eatgreenthings

As the medication wore off and the doctor spoke to my husband, over and over again, I said, “You have no idea what your prayer did for me. Thank you. This was the BEST COLONOSCOPY EVER!”

Me

Me

Pass this post onto someone you love who needs a colonoscopy. Tell them that yes, it’s awkward, unpleasant and a basically big giant poo-fest but s/he can do it. I did and I’m a wimp. I hope I kept it real but not real gross. God does show up in the strangest and most amazing places.

Five minute Friday – friend

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photo copy 11When someone chooses to call me her “friend,” I have to catch my breath. Did she just call me a friend? It blesses one of the most tender places in my heart.

It’s like a badge of honor to move from being someone a person just “knows” to being elevated to friendship status and I’m not talking about getting friended on facebook. If I am introduced to someone, I admit I pay close attention to how they refer to me.

I know someone who competes with others on the amount of facebook friends she has. It is massively annoying. That’s not friendship.

Recently in casual conversation, I discovered a new friend of mine was having a colonoscopy three days before I was going to have mine. We have shared some personal things in the short time we’ve gotten to know each other. It meant a lot that she shared intimate details with me about the procedure.

Writing for five minutes is a treasure. Do it!

Writing for five minutes is a treasure. Do it!

To enter that private place with someone and feel safe, to laugh and be encouraged, I received a gift AND a colonoscopy. One (the person) was better than the other (the procedure) but they went well together in a weird sort of way.

I received a text from this woman at 6:30 in the morning the day of my procedure. She was checking on me. I would have assumed she was asleep but early in the morning, she reached out.

Do you have any idea what a sweet comfort it was to ask her the most indelicate questions and feel totally safe? I’m praising God for the many people who call me their friend.

Join us for a writing adventure, click here for the deets.

A mom raising girls speaks to a mom raising boys

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A mom of three daughters is the voice behind today's post!

A mom of three daughters is the voice behind today’s post!

I recently asked a writer friend of mine for her perspective. As the mom of three girls, I wanted to hear what she had to say to me as the mama of three boys. It seems other-worldly to even posit what it would be like in a home loaded with estrogen instead of testosterone. It’s an intriguing and terrifying consideration.

Here are Marietta’s thoughts.  I just love her to bits…

About a year ago, the oldest of my three daughters was scheduled to meet a photographer at a local garden for her senior portraits. We had been waiting for the appointment for several months, and planned to have family pictures taken afterwards. The photographer felt that April would give us the prettiest weather and blooms, while still allowing a few weeks before graduation to have the photos processed.

It was a beautiful day, but the afternoon forecast held a chance of thunderstorms, and at home, our own storm was brewing. Family tension turned into a full-blown discussion with angry, hurtful words. Twenty minutes before it was time to leave, we were still sitting at the kitchen table trying to untangle ourselves from the argument.

Meanwhile, dark clouds rolled in and it began to rain. The photographer called, expressing concern, but I refused to be deterred. We would be there, by golly, and unless a downpour prevented it, this mother was going to have a senior picture of her daughter. This wouldn’t be the first time we smiled through our hypocrisy.

Later that evening, as we drove home from the photo shoot, and a concert we had attended afterwards, we reflected on the craziness of the day. “’It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,’” I quoted, and everyone agreed. Strangely, that has become a recurring theme over the past year and a half. Family tensions remain. At the same time, we have created many happy memories.

The result of this topsy-turvy lifestyle has been that I often feel inadequate and threatened, both in my role as a mother and as a wife. My relationships with my daughters and with my husband are being redefined daily as we experience the first leaving of the nest. I have been shaken.

In the context of all of this, dear Cindy entered, asking me to be a guest writer on her blog. I was pleased to say “yes,” and eager to write something worthy. Later, when she gave me the topic, I was a little less enthused: “advice for moms raising boys from a mom raising girls.” Hmmm. I’m not sure people really like advice. I really don’t know anything about boys. Come to think of it, I’m not feeling like I know very much about girls. So the thinking went.

Point your children to Christ in all things – Whether we’re raising boys or girls, it’s the same goal. Admittedly, this can be tedious work. It’s easy to feel that we should be doing something bigger or more important with our time. Maybe it doesn’t really matter who left toothpaste in the sink again, or whose turn it is to do the dishes, whether the chores get done on Saturday, or whether you’re really listening to me at the dinner table.

Marietta and her girls back in the day!

Marietta and her girls back in the day!

Continue to diligently follow Jesus and help your family follow Him – I love the way Tedd Tripp puts it in his DVD series The Case for Kids. He says, “We think these little moments don’t make any difference. Those are the moments you have with your children.  And ten thousand little moments makes the character of a life. God is the God of little moments.” Yes, life is so many moments, so many snapshots. Sometimes we’re at our best, sometimes we’re at our worst. But God is always for us, in all things.

Now before you cry foul, let me say that I have also mulled over thoroughly the notion of boy-girl differences, and I acknowledge that there are some. I tried to picture myself with boys, and I pictured the house looking a lot more dirty and banged-up than it already is. I pictured myself going to pour a glass of orange juice and wondering who drank straight from the bottle and deciding to have coffee instead. It’s true that when my girls were little, they didn’t struggle with potty talk, turn everyday objects into guns, or leap from the furniture. On the other hand, they didn’t come out of the womb crocheting doilies either.

Boys become men, and some of them are better at it than others – By the time I was nineteen (the age of my oldest daughter, and the age of my husband when we first met), even as a new Christian, I had formed some definite opinions about what made a godly man marriage material. I had a checklist of requirements for my future mate, and if a young man didn’t measure up, there was no need for a first date.

So I decided to ask my daughters if they had ever made a list of the qualities they were looking for in a potential husband. I was pleased to find that they each had a list, and that they were very open and willing to share many of the qualities with me. Here are some of the things they said:

He is a strong Christian, able to lead and encourage spiritually.
-He is responsible, hard-working, and able to support himself financially.
-He values his own purity as well as mine.
-He treats his mother and sisters (if any) well.
-He is kind.
-He has a sense of humor.
-He is willing to serve others.
-He is a good communicator.
-He is emotionally mature.
-He loves children.
-He shares some of my interests.

Thank you, dear daughters, for your many gifts to me. I treasure you each more than you could know. May you find the man of your dreams, the man of God’s choosing. And may God bless you, mother of this young man, with wisdom and strength as you parent him in the little moments of daily life, and as you keep an eye to the future. I have been praying for you.

Questions: What part of Marietta’s list of qualities speaks the most to you? What would you add to the list? I’d love to hear your thoughts, I’m listening!

Five Minute Friday – broken

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photo copy 11The women’s Bible study on Psalms finished on Wednesday. A group of broken and redeemed women coming together each week has a tendency to make one feel whole again. The presence of the Lord was upon our time together. It became a healing and learning time for me.

The last assignment in our Bible study was to create our own Psalm.  Here’s mine and I thought this worked with today’s theme “broken.” You will probably notice the element of brokenness in my words.

Cindy’s Psalm

Stunning are your ways, O God!

When I was covered with shame, plunging headlong into the mire

Whelmed with falsity and pride

Your loving-kindness scooped me up

I opened the Book of Life

And this ugly, benighted woman became beautiful in your sight

Suppliant I became

Scribe I have become

Servant I shall forever be

Rendered helpless apart from your spirit

Because of you, I AM

Blessed through Jesus Christ

Chosen before the fullness of time, incomprehensible though it may be

Free from the bond of deception and death

Stunning are your ways, O God!

I tell ya, I go to bed on Thursday, knowing tomorrow's gonna be Five Minute Friday - that's pretty cool! Join us and see what it's all about!

I tell ya, I go to bed on Thursday, knowing tomorrow’s gonna be Five Minute Friday – that’s pretty cool! Join us and see what it’s all about!

Five minute Friday – remember

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This picture hangs in my dining room. So many memories.

This picture hangs in my dining room. So many memories.

As I returned the phone call, a warning was necessary for my husband. “I’m going to cry.”

The voice on the other end asked the triggering question.

“How’s your grandma?” she kindly inquired.

I had only seconds to consider a polite answer. The grief which has whelmed me came surfacing back though truth told, it’s never far behind.

“We lost her 19 months ago. I’m so sorry you didn’t know. It was quick, we only knew she had brain cancer for about a week. I’m so sorry to tell you that. She loved you. You were a good friend.” I choke back the tears, I’m in the hallway of the hotel. I’m in Fort Benning visiting my Soldier on a brief pass from Ranger School. My stomach lurches within, it’s shocking how hearing from my grandma’s old friend makes me remember this woman I loved so much. I remember that I haven’t forgotten that I miss her.

After returning home, a card arrived in the mail. It was from my grandma’s friend. It was a sympathy card. Like the phone call, this card was a surprise.

I so appreciated getting this card, what a thoughtful expression and kindness.

I so appreciated getting this card, what a thoughtful expression and kindness.

But it was a blessed affirmation. She remembered ME. More importantly, she remembered my grandma and the friendship they shared. She remembered the sadness displayed in our phone conversation even though I reassured her she had done NOTHING wrong. I’m glad she called though it was painful. She missed her too.

Check this out and write for your sanity, that's my personal experience!

Check this out and write for your sanity, that’s my personal experience!

Writing for five minutes can be a blessed experience even if you cry. Trust me, I know!

Five Minute Friday – ordinary

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My boy is working on getting his Ranger tab.

My boy is working on getting his Ranger tab.

There is nothing ordinary about Ranger School. Some describe it as an intense 61-day combat leadership course. It has been called the “toughest combat course in the world” and “the most physically and mentally demanding leadership school the Army has to offer.” This is all true but for me it’s where a piece of my heart now dwells because my son is there.

On Wednesday night starting at about 9:00 pm, those who had made it through the first few days of grueling initial training, started a 12 mile ruck (Army slang for march) that ended at about midnight. From all accounts it is a brutal trek.

And I see the Lord’s hands upon my Soldier. When he was about eight years old, the Hubs and I were watching tv. Nate had his prayer journal nearby and was writing.

Not many eight year old boys even possess a prayer journal but my oldest olive shoot is extra-ordinary. He inquired, “How do you spell Hallelujah?”

This kid is well beyond ordinary and I praise the Lord for that!

This kid is well beyond ordinary and I praise the Lord for that!

The Hubs and I just looked at each other dumbfounded.

Who was this kid? How did he get to living in this house with us as his parents???

These moments became rather ordinary, Nate doing things in a remarkable and humble way.

Things most people can’t do or choose not to and there Nate is plodding away, his eyes on the prize.

Academically, athletically and most importantly spiritually, my olive shoot presses on, marches on.

Nate’s ordinary is everyone else’s incredible.

Bless him and all those who are joining him on the journey.

It's like getting a little word present every week. You should check it out!

It’s like getting a little word present every week. You should check it out!

Ranger School

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Here's what I am doing today. Gotta keep busy, no sense in idling my time and mind.

Here’s what I am doing today. Gotta keep busy, no sense in idling my time and mind.

Somewhere between the hours of 10am-1pm on Sunday, my oldest olive shoot began Ranger School. While I sat in church, my Soldier was preparing for an exhausting journey that can last at least two months.

Since moms aren’t allowed at Ranger School, (HA!) the way I can help my OS is through support and prayer. The Hubs and the orange hair, freckle face OS gathered around the phone Saturday afternoon with Nate on the other line. Individually we offered prayers up to the Lord on Nate’s behalf. It is yet another humbling, raw moment which stretches me as a mama and a Christ follower.

The face of a Sugar Boy

The face of a Sugar Boy

Of course, as it is customary in my home, I prayed AND cried. It’s like a black bean quinoa burger with organic cheddar goat cheese. They just go together. I attempted to hold back my tears but that never works.

I’m proud, I’m scared, I’m worried, I’m completely confident.

I trust, I doubt, I second guess, I dream.

I borrow trouble, then I give it all to the Lord. And so it goes. Yes, it’s complicated. Don’t judge. ;0

Today I began writing my boy. As a word girl, this is therapeutic. I’m also a walker girl. If you see a pink-haired middle age woman walking down the street with a knee brace and maybe a back pack, she isn’t talking to herself and she isn’t crazy either (at least at that moment). She’s just talking to God. And she’s also listening. It’s not as weird as some of you might think. Or maybe it is and in that case, I feel sorry for you.

This is as close as we're going to get to Nate for a while. I took this picture after we had finished talking and praying for him.

This is as close as we’re going to get to Nate for a while. I took this picture after we had finished talking and praying for him.

In a rare, authorized moment, I’m allowing you access to the first card I wrote Nate for Ranger School. You will note that I occasionally call him Sugar Boy. He has already told me that he will probably be throwing out all the cards once he reads them to minimize weight. For posterity sake, I might take pictures of the correspondence sent from our home since he might want to read it again someday.

According to the daily Ranger School roster, Nate and the other guys had a grueling physical activity test at 3 in the morning. If we don’t hear from him in the next three days, that’s a good sign. I can’t wait to hear about this incredible life experiences but then again, I can!

Nehemiah 1:11 O Lord, let your ear be attentive to the prayer of your servant, and to the prayer of your servants who delight to fear your name, and give success to your servant today, and grant him mercy in the sight of this man.”