Seasons

Since our marriage became filled with boys, it seems that all my Saturdays have been associated with a Season. There was always either a sports season or a hunting season, from football to basketball to baseball to deer hunting, to turkey hunting…and so on. Once, when school was out for the summer break, I challenged the boys as to what they would do with no season to dictate their activities. One of the older ones, now a seasoned teenager, replied with gusto, “Are you kidding, Mom? This is GIRL season!” (Our boys were normal, after all.)

As the boys grew older, I welcomed the Saturdays of the hunting seasons with mixed feelings. The good feelings were associated with the fact that the boys would have something to do that they could share with their dad, and the fact that if they should die in the woods, they would die happy. The not-so-good feelings came from the tsunami of activity that overwhelmed me on these days. There would be many hungry hunters, not only my men, but numerous friends who were in and out during the day. The level of expectation associated with those days was almost palpable as the camouflaged stealth hunters headed for the woods.
After their departure, things would be quiet and I could have tranquil time to myself. Then before I was ready, the scene would change. The house, particularly the kitchen, would become a cacophony of guns clicking, cartridges clattering, boots thudding, coveralls unzipping, and jacket snaps popping. There would be scuffling and jostling and joking and bragging. This was the time of the day that they enjoyed almost as much as going out initially. Because they never waited for “real” breakfast before leaving in the morning, there was nothing they loved more than homemade blueberry pancakes when they returned. I could watch three boxes of cereal disappear before the pancakes were finished, and there was always never enough milk. They enjoyed sitting around the table and re-living the morning’s exploits for hours. If they couldn’t make them vivid enough with words, they had the video cameras to back up their stories, and they could spend the major part of the day looking and analyzing every nuance of the morning’s experience.

By the end of the day, Saturdays were a blend of mud-caked boots, footballs scattered on the lawn, strew towels left from half-washed hands, shotgun shells scattered on the floor, shotgun pellets in the carpet, sometimes runny noses and wet beds, but always spontaneous hugs and aura of contentment. Their goal for the day was to pack in as much masculine activity as could possibly be experienced, and my goal was to record in my mind the memories.
We must have both succeeded, because as I think about our present day Saturdays, I realize that the purpose of them now is to recreate the experiences, emotions, sights and sounds of Saturdays past. What I have now is a house that is still filled with on occasions with grown men dressed in “camo” who are the same little boys in their hearts. The competition is still there. My serenity is still disturbed, only now it’s usually with apology. The blueberry pancakes are still a favorite treat, but almost every bite is taken with expressed appreciation. Instead of writing in my journal to enable me to cope with my blessings for another six days, I find myself reviewing my notes in order to remember the challenges and be able to encourage other young mothers who are coming behind my on the motherhood path.

Some days the only way I survived was to remind myself that life has its seasons. There would be a time when I could finish a telephone conversation without having to settle a dispute, and I could drink a whole cup of coffee at one sitting. Not always would one meal morph into the next before the dishes were done. One day they might even offer to help with clean-up. Somehow, in the midst of managing their college apartments, owning their own homes, and becoming responsible adult men, this season has arrived. Maybe this is MY season.

And it’s the best one of all.

Age is in the Attitude

Today I had a great compliment. It came from a dear young mom who was in a speech/drama class I taught in high school. She is now the mother of two adorable little girls, and we occasionally meet for coffee in order to discuss the challenges of being a wife and mother, as well as a dozen other topics. When we parted she said to me, "You know why I enjoy being with you so much? It's because you are always so POSITIVE." She pointed out that so often women (and men) of my generation are so... well, negative.

This is a challenge that I started thinking about a good many years ago. I knew that one day I would be a part of the senior generation. Believe me, I have fought it as hard as my body will allow me. Some things are inevitable, but being a positive person with a good attitude is something that, with God's empowerment, I can control. Mt motivation is quite simple: I want people to like me. I especially want young people to like me.

About twenty years ago(really, has it been that long?), I found an article in our hometown newspaper that pertained to aging gracefully. I kept it, because it has the best advice for insuring positive thinking and popularity with people that I have ever seen. It is advice attributed to a Dr. Maria Haynes, a UCLA professor at the time. This is what she suggests.

1. When you are young, find out what qualities in old people are admired by the young. Remember them.

2.Never praise the good old days. Live in the present.

3.Learn early in life how to be well-balanced emotionally, how to control anger. Oldsters who aren't upset by unpleasant events, who can deal with crises wisely, are sought out by young people as sources of advice and strength.

4. Keep alive intellectually. This means not only reading and other cultural activities but maintaining a lively interest in all things going on around you.

5. Maintain strict adherence to principles of personal hygiene. Neat personal appearance and good table manners ,make oldsters attractive to the younger generation.

6. Lay a groundwork early in life. You can't be a pleasant old man or woman unless you cultivate these qualities long before you grow old. They don't come naturally with age.

I need to post these suggestions on my refrigerator because I don't think I'll find anything that says it better. I want to maintain a positive outlook on life. I want to be the kind of woman that is described in Proverbs 31:25, "She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs with no fear of the future." I want that to be me.

A friend was visiting me one day when the boys were younger and she looked out the window at one of them who was walking across the top of the short bridge behind our house. "Isn't that dangerous?" she asked. "Well yea," I replied, "but then so is everything else that they do." Thinking about it, I realized that I was telling the truth.

Things haven't changed a whole lot since they have grown up. Don't get me wrong; they're not foolish and irresponsible (some mothers might disagree). They're just...well, grown up boys. John Eldridge wrote a marvelous book entitled "Wild at Heart." I recommend that every mother of boys read it. Our youngest son actually placed it in my hands when he was a teenager and said, "Read this if you want to understand me." The book describes the heart of a man. It shows how God created man with the desire to conquer and the penchant for adventure and challenge.

I think we mothers of boys do our sons a disservice by trying to squelch their desire for excitement. We try to hold them back and keep them "safe." I believe one of the most significant elements of the relationship I have with our sons is their knowledge that I continuouisly cover them with intercessory prayer. I've never been able to follow them literally (nor would I want to!), but I committed them to God for Him to use them to promote His Kingdom, and that is about as exciting as an adventure can be.

Family Vacation

At the end of this month we're going to try something: We're all going to the beach together. "All" includes five grown sons, three wives (one of whom will be 10 months pregnant), two 2-year-old toddlers,and one 5-month-old baby. Thankfully, everybody will be leaving the dogs and the 14-pound cat somewhere else. This is a big event for us because it will be the first time we have ALL been on vacation together in 7 years, and at that time there were no wives or babies! I'm pretty hyped about this trip because we have been talking about it for months. Everybody is making good suggestions,i.e., how to divide the responsibilities for our night meals among the couples (the two bachelors are considered a couple, much to their chagrin), what games we want to play, when to set up tee times for golf and what day to arrange deep sea fishing.

This all brings back the memory that is indelibly burned in my mind of a family vacation we took when the boys were very young and I was the ONLY planner. This is how I recorded the memory in my journal:

"Our Family Vacation:Recipe for Disaster"

This year we decided to take a two-week family vacation. It was to be a special time for the whole family. Our youngest was two years old.
I began to make preparations for departure about a month in advance. I had planned menus, shopped for groceries, made lists, washed and packed clothes. (I had to unpack most of them because we didn't have anything left in the drawers to wear.)
Eventually everything was stored in the basement playroom: The "Port-a-Crib," five boxes of groceries (there were no grocery stores on the island where we we staying),fishing gear,four large boxes of "Pampers," two ice chests, beach paraphernalia,and four pillowcases full of toys.
The eve of our departure finally arrived. I had checked my list (twice) and everything was in one area except the neatly packed suitcases which were open in the bedrooms. I failed to notice that the two-year-old had stayed in the basement.
As I was busy in the kitchen, the oldest son came to tell me that his baby brother was "playing in the groceries." He had found the family size tea bags and had ripped them all open.I ran downstairs, grabbed him, and decided it was his bedtime.The oldest son vacuumed the tea and the youngest son protested his early bedtime at the top of his lungs for an hour and a half before finally settling down. I began to feel somewhat in control of everything until I opened the door to my bedroom and found our suitcases completely empty with a big pile of clean, crumpled clothes on the floor.I knew who to blame. I yanked the unsuspecting baby from his crib, and made him pick up every article of clothing and put them back into the suitcases. I finally collapsed into bed, certain that nothing else could go wrong.
The next morning, Dad pulled the family STATION WAGON to the basement to pack the stuff we were taking. When he saw it he said,"I thought we were going on vacation, not having a yard sale!" (I didn't think that was funny.)Three hours later, I went to check on his progress. The children were running around, "helping" him load the car while I re-checked my list, and offered irrelevant advice and questioning the bumps and bulges in the soft car top carrier we had bought for this occasion. As my husband wiped sweat with one of the new beach towels, I reminded him there were three cantaloupes and a watermelon at the top of the basement stairs.
At that moment, I had one of those mother's intuition thoughts: The two-year-old had found the cantaloupes. I looked up the stairs just in time to see him looking like a baby "Atlas" holding the biggest one over his head.I jumped back just in time to avoid the orange explosion as the melon came bouncing and bursting down the stairs. Seeds, juice, and pulp went everywhere.
I don't remember how much later it was that we finally pulled out of the driveway, looking every bit like the Beverly Hillbillies. And believe me, if I could have, I would have been like Granny and been sitting in a rocking chair on top of the pile!"


Well...I don't know what to expect this year. I hope my daughters-in-law read this, because they will know that I can certainly relate to the efforts and planning that go into a family adventure like this. Sometimes family vacations are just that... for everyone BUT the Mommy. Can anybody say "Amen"?

Looking at 40 (Years of Marriage)


We just celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary. The thing that has stuck out to me for the past three days has been the blessing of loving family relationships, and I have seen this in some unexpected ways. For example, I have been reading a book by Nicholas Sparks, entitled Three Weeks with My Brother. It’s a memoir of a trip he took with his brother and in it he tells the true story of what their family was like growing up. By today’s definitions, their family would be classified as dysfunctional and dirt poor, the kind of circumstances that anyone looking for an excuse for anti-social behavior and self-pity could exploit. However, the Sparks brothers not only made the best of their situation, but went on to become admirable and successful individuals. (After all, who could deny anything less from books-made-into-movies like The Notebook and Message in a Bottle?) Realizing the challenges that Nicholas Sparks faced as he was writing these novels made me even more of a fan of his than I was already. The thing that impressed me most about the book was the value that he placed on family and familial relationships, although his childhood was so far from perfect. The purpose behind his memoir was to depict the importance and the privilege of protecting and cherishing the bonds that exist within a family.
The same theme was evident in a movie we went to see on our recent “date night.” We saw The Proposal. It’s a light, entertaining movie with no real depth except that it also expresses the desire that everyone has to find family connections. In it, the hardened, self-reliant and self-sufficient book editor, played by Sandra Bullock, gets teary-eyed when she realizes that she yearns for family relationships.
The REAL thing, however, was not what I read and saw that somebody else had written about. The golden experience for me and for my husband of 40 years was the celebration of our own family relationships, ours with each other and ours with our “boys.” Two of our five sons met us on our anniversary weekend to play golf with their dad and have dinner with us. The other three called to wish us a Happy Anniversary and, along with their wives, tell us how much they loved and appreciated us.
Nobody has to verbalize how precious our times together are. I think the realization hit us all at the same time, that the opportunity to enjoy having a loving family is not something that we should take for granted. Gathering only once or twice during the year, as some families do either out of necessity or by choice, is not acceptable in our case. As I have many times before, I thanked God for having daughters-in-law who recognize the precious and rare quality that our sons have in their relationships, and how easily and quickly it can be lost by neglect or by tragedy. Frequently the girls have made a sacrifice of personal time with their husbands in order to let the men get together and become brothers all aver again.
Being married 40 years has made us develop an appreciation and a devotion to one another that we didn’t know in our earlier years. It goes beyond the notion of “romance,” although it is totally romantic. What does that mean?
It means that sometimes I ride in the golf cart with him just because he likes for me to, even though I am totally bored with the activity (I’d rather be writing), but it’s a chance for me to see him doing something he enjoys and makes him “show off” for me. For the same reason, I get a chuckle out of taking a picture of my man on his riding lawn mower (after he has finished with the push mower), grinning and waving at me. (This is the same man who has never done “yard work” until the past few years.)
It means that we go to the gym together and do our strength training with a personal trainer. We see her as young and cute and she sees us as old(er) and cute! We recently were invited to her 40th surprise birthday party, along with her young(er) friends!
It means that he gets a haircut, and if I fail to realize it, he makes a little comment about himself that tells me he wants me to notice, and it makes me giggle.
It means that he has started always shaving with a “real” razor instead of the electric one just because I like the way it makes his face feel.
It means that most of the time, we run errands together, because…well, just because. Things like going to the grocery store. However, there are times that he stops by to pick up a few things for me and frequently comes home with a surprise… usually a bunch of fresh flowers! If I don’t notice the surprise, I can always tell something is up by the satisfied little smile he tries to hide.
It means that we love to get up early in the mornings, sharing our quiet time with the Lord first, and then our coffee with each other while sitting on our patio.
It means that we never, ever take for granted the precious moments that we have with our sons, their wives, or our grandchildren.
It also means that on some days, when we realize that nobody is at home besides us, we say,” We have the house all to ourselves!” Then we smile at each other with 40 years of understanding between us.

Shopping With Kids

For two days this week, I had the pleasure of entertaining our three grandchildren, ages two, 21 months,and three months. I've loved observing their behavior and watching them do things that I never seemed to have time to dwell on when ours were toddlers. It has also brought back memories, some good, some bad, and most humorous. Take, for instance, the incident I recorded in my journal a few years ago:
"Yesterday I went shopping for a birthday gift for somebody at the trendy clothing store where all the young women shop. I had with me two sons, ages 7 and 3. I lectured them thoroughly before we went inside that they were to behave themselves while I shopped. They vowed to be sweeter than angels. But somehow, when they got inside and saw all the clothes dangling temptingly from the rods, and the neat little nooks and crannies which made perfect hiding places, they forgot their promise. They simply couldn't’t resist the temptations. As I perused the clothes and gift items, I ran into an older woman who I had always thought was very charming and sophisticated, not to mention someone who always seemed “together.” She told me what cute little boys I had. She had to say something; they had interrupted me three times in our five- minute conversation, so I could hardly ignore them. When she walked away I turned to reprimand them severely, but they had vanished. I tried to look nonchalant and collected as I searched the store, and just as I encountered the same gracious lady at the cash register, they jumped out from behind the counter and went, “Agggghhhh!” I was so embarrassed!
When we got back in the car, I made it crystal clear that I was disappointed (to put it mildly) at their behavior. I told them we were going to the grocery store (I am such a sadist), and there would be NO treats for them and that they would be on danger of extinction if they acted up. They reacted typically; the sensitive 7-year-old withdrew into a little slump on the front seat, while the younger one was slightly penitent but insisted that his brother “made” him run around in the store. I think he really wanted to make me feel that it was my fault for taking him in there with all those temptations in the first place.
We had slightly better results in the grocery store. The older child was perfectly behaved, wanting to make reconciliation with me. The younger one was a bit less cooperative. He asked for four different packs of bubblegum (which he did not get), took off his socks and shoes, and drug his little feet on the floor to slow down the buggy. I saw another mother (of only two children). She commented on our somewhat unique family structure, and said, 'Why don’t you write a book?'”

It was comments like these that inspired me to share what I think today's young mothers need to hear. Children are at times tiring,embarrassing,frustrating,
and absolutely worth every second that we spend with them. The day I came home from that shopping trip, I needed to hear that reassurance. Now I'm in a position to give it. I want all you wonderful young moms to know that it's SO worth the short-lived moments of stress.

STAYING AT HOME

Provers31:28
Her children rise up and call her blessed..

There was a time that I actually worried that I was spending too much of my time with the boys. I seemed to get the impression from most of the people I was around that every mother deserved to have a life of her own, that being with the children most of the time caused too much dependence from them and that her brain would atrophy in the process. It took me a while to realize that most of my frustrations came from trying to do what I perceived expected from me. One night, all this came to a head after an episode with our oldest two sons (ages 9 and 7 at the time). From my journal:
“What a day!!! I have had a lot of pieces of the puzzle to begin to fit today. It all started this morning (as days usually do) when our oldest son wanted to stay at home from school because of a sore throat (?). I didn’t challenge his excuse, and I went upstairs to work at my desk while he stayed downstairs with our housekeeper to help entertain the “little boys.” In a few minutes I heard a wail. I came down to discover that he had put the youngest son ( 1-year) in the dumbwaiter and sent him down to the basement…with the baby’s hand caught between the dumbwaiter compartment and the wall. By the time I got to them, his chubby little hand was scraped and swollen and the Culprit was trying desperately to shush him from crying. I couldn’t decide which was more urgent, to comfort the baby and make sure his hand wasn’t broken or to choke his big brother. I decided that it would be punishment enough to make the Older One accompany us to the doctor’s office to check it out.
On the ride back from the doctor visit, I found that I had a cocktail mixture of emotions: relief that the hand was fine, hope that no irreparable fears of elevators got planted in the baby’s subconscious, disappointment in our older son’s lack of judgment, and anger that he would have put his little brother at risk… and especially confusion over what this was all about. I kept getting the feeling that there was more than met the eye going on here.
That night, something else happened. The oldest two were showering in our bathroom, and apparently decided to test out my make-up and my good perfume. By this time, my emotions were clear: I was mad! I got the paddle and was ready to let loose on them when the Older got extremely upset (apparently it was Number Two’s idea). I sensed that he needed to talk. So standing in his underwear with his pajamas around his ankles and tears streaming down his cheeks, we ended up discussing what exactly he was feeling inside. Obviously there were things that they needed from me that they weren’t getting. I wrote them down:
1. For me to always go to church with them (in other words, Not stay home to rest)
2. Have something to look forward to on weekends, like having a friend over or going shopping with me, out of town; an occasional ballgame or movie.
3. Have story time or Bible reading every night, snuggled in our bed.
4. For me to be available to study with them, individually and privately, in the afternoons.
What this all boils down to is that what they really want is my participation in every aspect of their lives…their spiritual life, their school life, and their home life. I have come to the conclusion that I need to devote practically every waking minute to them, that I must stay organized enough to have time to spend with them and not have so many things going on that I’m too tired to participate in things. Sounds like I must lay down my life for my children! If I wind up with unappreciative, spoiled brats, then I’m wrong. If I end up with children who will rise up and called me blessed, then I’m doing exactly what God has called me to do. I only have one chance at it. I’m choosing to give it all to them. Somehow, deep in my spirit, I believe I’m making the right choice.”

Two months later, I observed that the plan was working. I found that I was organizing my time better. I felt so much better physically. I didn’t always have that guilty feeling that I had failed to meet the needs of the family. We had maintained the schedule of studying in the afternoons (which was nothing more than calling out a few spelling words, but it was “quality time” with Mom). We read books and/or the Bible before the boys went to bed, and they loved it! I could see them becoming more cooperative.
One day I looked on the bathroom counter, and the toothpaste tube was squeezed from the bottom. I had that moment of inspiration. I thought, “That’s the kind of family I want us to be, one where everyone squeezes the tube from the bottom!”
Pretty trivial, I know, but it was a good word picture. My husband and I were giving a talk at a church once and I’m not sure what our subject was, but when I shared the picture of the toothpaste tube, the audience broke out in spontaneous applause. Steven Covey is right (as expressed in his book, Seven Habits of Highly Effective Families): a family needs a shared goal, a family mission statement that expresses what makes it unique. Getting all seven of us to agree on any one thing has been a challenge to me. As the boys have grown up, with all their individual temperament and personality traits, their personal preferences and diverse needs, the job of keeping us united has been difficult… and time consuming.
Journal Entry:
“Over and over I realize that the secret to good parenting is to zero in on each child individually. That takes time…all your time! But when a child is conceived, your time is no longer your own anyway. Our pastor says that what “rights” we lay down will be returned to us as privileges. I believe that in applying this principle to children, it means that investing time in their development when they need it will result in better-adjusted, self-disciplined, and more self-reliant individuals. Consequently, as they mature, you as a mother will be blessed with more time of your own---fewer trips to the school counselor’s office, fewer discipline problems at home, and moments of quiet and peace rather than anxiety when they are not together with you.”
Now I know: It’s true!

Did you say Purpose?

John 17: 4
“I glorified Thee on earth, having accomplished the work which thou gavest me to do.”

For several months, Rick Warren’s book The Purpose Driven Life was a best seller. I wonder if the reason was because everybody needs to believe that their life has a purpose; if not, then why stay here? Maybe if the book had been written at the time, I would have come to my conclusion sooner, but it took me a few years to realize what my life was all about. I fantasized about all the things that God must have needed me to do. I was so sure that a woman with my amazing talents and personality was indispensable to Him. The problem, as I saw it, was the fact that I had all these little children running around me and taking up my time. The universe was no doubt on “hold” until they were old enough to fend for themselves and didn’t need to constantly share my space. Sometimes I would feel that the world was passing me by, and this would cause me to be very discontented and impatient at having to go unnoticed. I thought about my short-lived high school teaching career that I loved, or my dream of doing TV commercials, or maybe even wanting to become involved with a singing group. There were so many things I could do!

One day my thinking changed. This is how I recorded my epiphany (my “Ah-ha” moment):

Today I was sitting in the living room and thinking about my life. I realized that I wasn’t satisfied doing what I was doing (which seems like fulltime babysitting). I came across a verse of scripture in John 17:4 where Jesus says that He accomplished the work God gave Him to do. I started asking myself, What work has God given me to do? What does He want me to accomplish? For what purpose, in God’s sight do I exist?
Three of the boys were playing with their trucks on the floor. As I looked at them, I felt the Holy Spirit saying to me “If Jesus were here right now, where would He be?” The answer came immediately: “He would be on the floor, playing with your children.”
All of a sudden, I knew the answer to my question. My purpose is to be the mother of five happy, well-adjusted, self-disciplined Christian men.
When that realization came to me, I felt the most incredible sense of relief. It was as though I had wrestled with the angel and gotten the blessing that I was seeking. My struggle is over, and I am ready to take on the task.

It is amazing how this discovery changed my life. I’m not saying it made the daily tasks any less challenging, but now I had a goal in sight. I also realized that God had called and equipped me, and only me, for this particular assignment. Several life-changing attitudes were birthed in me as a result.

First, I found that it was much easier to establish priorities. I knew enough about goal-setting to know that if something doesn’t contribute to the desired end, it needs to be eliminated. Knowing that made it much easier to say NO to invitations and activities that took too much of my time and were unproductive for steering my boys in the right direction. I realized that I didn’t have to be at every social function that included me ; I didn’t have to entertain a certain way; I could decline certain invitations without feeling that I was throwing away my last chance; Our boys didn’t have to be involved with every single activity that was available to them. With all this wonderful freedom I experienced, I soon realized that there were some marvelous bonus discoveries. One, I didn’t have to compare myself to other mothers. I believed that God had designed and equipped our family for His unique purposes, and they might not be just like everybody else’s. Two, I felt released from self-condemnation. I came to the conclusion that not everybody was going to agree with me, think like me, or (most astounding discovery), even LIKE me, and that was okay. There is a quote that says, “You may not be Somebody to the world, but you might be the world to Somebody.” I had five little “Somebodies” to whom I was the world.

Second, I became aware that my biggest fears were diminished. If God had created me to mother these young men, I could trust Him to protect and preserve my life until that task was complete. I had no more fears about dying young or being incapacitated. I would be able to complete the work that He started in me. (cf. ). In other words, God wouldn’t let me half- finish my assignment. I also believed that He would give me the wisdom I needed to carry out the task, because I knew nothing about rearing children. After all, I’d never even changed a diaper!

Third, I must have learned to trust God’s promise to give us wisdom when we need it, as it says in James 1:5. Since both their dad and I were only children, we had never had experience with anyone but ourselves. We certainly didn’t know anything about sibling rivalry (but we learned fast!). To the casual observer, one might conclude that we were “flying by the seat of our pants” (whatever in the heck that mean), but since we didn’t know what to do from experience, we trusted that the impressions we received were God’s leading. I came across a plaque which said, “Give me wisdom Mary had when she raised her little Lad.” I reasoned that Mary didn’t know how to rear the Son of God, but had to rely on her impressions from God. If I were going to rear five little boys to become sons of God, then I had to do likewise.

Fourth, I discovered that the more time I spent with the boys, the more I wanted to be with them. By the time they were in Jr-high, they had become my best friends. At some point I put my decision on paper:

I have decided that the most important thing I can do just now is devote time to our family. This means I have to abandon extra activities that sap me of my energy and time. Some might think that this is a mistake, that my focus will become too narrow, and my brain turn to mush. That’s the chance I’ll have to take. When our sons are one the other side of childhood, I’ll know if this is the right choice.

Wow! Was it ever the right choice! When I look now at our incredible Renaissance Men