The first time my family attended Victory was the Easter Passion Play 2008, a little over a year and a half ago. We were in the throws of transition with our family as our now son, "Ian," had only been with us a few months. This was one of the most difficult seasons of my personal life.
The Easter production was amazing and the facilities were breath-taking. However, what impressed me was the spirit of humility within which these things were present. Grandeur in the midst of a contrite spirit and extreme diversity, very much as I would envision the Kingdom of God. We felt at home.
Upon returning in the weeks ahead we came to understand that the heart of all this was born in Pastor Billy Joe Daugherty. His great vision and unstoppable faith were poised on the foundation of humility and heart holding sincerity.
That's what I felt as I listened to him in anticipation and deep admiration. That's what I knew as he looked into my soul every time he greeted me as a friend. I loved him. To stand next to him was to stand in the undeniable presence of my Jesus. His presence was sweet, sincere, strong, affirming, loving. I took every opportunity to run into him and shake his hand, although often I held back for fear that he would figure me out or think I was strange. Oh how I adored him. He was, and is my Hero of Faith.
In the weeks to come I learned more of this great man of God. Pastor Billy Joe did not depend on banks to bring his visions alive. He depended on God. Every ministry and building of Victory was paid for. Story after story of faith, belief, and provision were his. In quiet faith he and Sharron believed God for property in the inner city where they could minister and it was given to him within days. This property now holds the Dream Center where families can get food, aid, and medical attention for free. Again, believing for lakefront property with roads and electricity where impoverished children could go to camp, he received it for free, and is now the home of Camp Victory. He depended on God to finance the desires of his heart. He stood in faith, asking for the impossible, and the impossible bowed down to God time after time. Pastor, through many faithful at Victory, reached over a thousand inner city children and their families a week with groceries and the love of Christ through Mobile Kids Club. Pastor set up hundreds of Bible Institutes around the world that were and are the training ground for thousands and thousands of men and women of God. After the Iron Curtain fell Pastor Billy Joe went to Russia 18 months in a row and reaped thousands upon thousands of souls with the love of Christ. Shortly before his first trip to Russia Pastor sat with his family on the side of the road as they watched their house burn to the ground. He had gone into the flames twice to save his two youngest children. As they sat he shared how nothing material was of lasting value.
I could go on and on, yet my gratitude for having known him can hardly be expressed in words, although I try. He breathed life into my soul thorough the Spirit of faith that he exuded. I told him so, praying that it would not come off as flattery. I came to Victory dry, weary, and nearly broken. I stand now filled, hopeful, and empowered. Pastor Billy Joe, I thank you. A thousand times I thank God for you.
What I have found out in the last few days, is that it was in Pastor's most vulnerable hour in which he ministered to me. A year and a half ago he was diagnosed with chronic lymphatic leukemia. I often wondered why the right side of his neck seemed swollen, but never took it to heart. Now I know.
It was October when when his co-laborer and wife Sharron shared with the congregation that Pastor had been diagnosed with lymphoma after going in for a severe throat infection. We did not understand at the time that it was a progression of the leukemia. It was sudden news to us, heart wrenching news in which we all believed the power of God in the midst of humanity's grip.
Several days later I attended the wedding of his son Paul to Ashley. The original date was actually set on my husband and my 10th wedding anniversary. It was moved to the following day at the last minute to accommodate pastor's arrival. This was the last time I would see Pastor's precious face. His voice was weak and his body was frail. Lack of physical nourishment was starkly apparent. He was accompanied to center stage in order to perform the ceremony for his dear son. It was a heroic act of fatherhood; the most sacred gift he could give.
Yet, I did not understand the severity of what I was seeing. Pastor had left the hospital in order to be there for his son. He could not come to the reception. His wife Sharron warmly welcomed us instead.
Word of Pastor's health was limited. I understood the family wanting to protect their privacy and the church. I truly believed that this would be Pastor's season of refinement with the Lord as he walked into healing. I truly believed his time had not yet come. I dreamed of seeing him in the hallway, slim but secure, recovering and radiant.
It was Sunday just over a week ago that we were greeted by friends in the parking lot who told us of Pastor's death. Time seemed to stand still as I could not quite take in what I was hearing. We continued into the church, myself with a blank stare of disbelief. As I accompanied Nia down the hallway to her class, one step at a time it sank in. As we turned the corner to face a familiar place where Pastor used to stand, uncontrollable sobs began to rise up that brought me to my knees. Trembling took over my body as wails of loss echoed in the hall. My sweet Nia still holding my hand, I could not be strong, not even for her. Oh how I loved him.
That day was filled with ache and sorrow; numbing fatigue of grief. The next morning I could barley walk for the ache in my head. I was grief stricken.
The Thanksgiving holiday was a welcome distraction. I stayed busy in preparation. I dreaded, however, returning to church where I would not see the face I have so grown to love.
As predicted, Sunday was difficult. I fought back tears that gripped my throat while attempting to worship. Pastor Sharron gave the message. She was more radiant and beautiful than I have ever seen her, a true testimony of strength and faith. She shared from her heart the private journey of pastor's health and their personal journey as a couple in service to God. Her words washed over me with comfort and her strength brought forth courage in my own soul. She shared that 20 years ago Pastor was first diagnosed with chronic lymphatic leukemia. Believing that he had been healed, and seemingly so, Pastor Billy Joe ministered with strength and impeccable health until a year and a half ago when he was again diagnosed with CLL.
For the first time I understood that my precious Pastor was not yanked away by an untimely death, but that the greater part of his ministry he was a walking miracle.
The memorial service yesterday lasted four hours. I was deeply impacted. Thousands were in attendance. Many profound statements of honor were made and many words of exhortation. I left with great Spiritual fervor and even deeper admiration for Pastor Billy Joe.
One of the dearest testimonies was shared by his son Paul, who spoke of his dad as a great encourager. He left the image with us of his dad holding two thumbs up as he did on many occasions for his son, whether he felt deserving or not. Two thumbs up while sitting on the bench, two thumbs up after being pummeled on the field, two thumbs up which were often as much a mark of Pastor's faith as they were his encouragement- calling things that were not as though they were.
...Seven months have passed since I wrote that last sentence.
I think I have been unable to finish or post this entry because no words are sufficient to say what I really long to express. How can I sum up what is in my heart for Pastor Billy Joe. The ache in my heart still remains and the lump in my throat still rises up when I allow myself to miss him. I want to be satisfied in what I have written, but satisfaction eludes me. Pastor Billy Joe, to say we miss you is completely insufficient. I take great satisfaction, however, in knowing that you are now in paradise tasting the infinite Goodness of God and waiting eagerly for the marriage supper of the Lamb. Your work on earth is done. Well done, thy good and faithful servant.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
The Simplicity of Satisfaction
Satisfaction has always eluded me. My personality is naturally bent against it. The summary of my personality profile is "quality control." Not exactly the person you expect to emit warm fuzzy rays of relaxation. And I never really have.
Living in this realm of improvement mode I have often prayed and longed for the feeling, the deep abiding sense, of satisfaction. My eyes naturally find the things that need to be done or the things that didn't get done quite well enough. Always plagued by perfectionism.
But at last, for the first time in my life, I feel myself falling back into the arms of simplicity. A culmination of events beckoning me to savour the essence of life.
These events are not wrapped in relaxation. They are really just the opposite. So much so that surrender to simplicity is my only path to peace.
In just a few years my life evolved from the total self indulgence of childless womanhood to reckless abandon to the needs of a complete family. Nia, now 3 and Ian, 6 who came into our lives 2 years ago through adoption.
In the loss of self indulgence the simplicity of satisfaction gently seeped in. I found the glorious end of myself. The dawn of being poured out has emerged.
Not without a fight. The dreams that accompany independence die hard. Accomplishments that gain recognition give way to accomplishments that no one sees but my God. Somewhere in the journey of servanthood my satisfaction emerged. A supernatural blessing given when we surrender to the needs of others.
"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay his life down for his friends(1)." Love. Simple and satisfying. Not found in perfection but found in surrender to the greater good.
My friend, if you have lost satisfaction look to Love. Surrender to it. Determine to let go of all that perishes. The crowns that we earn will be directly related to the pursuit of it.
"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers(2)."
(1) John 15:13
(2) 1 John 3:16
Living in this realm of improvement mode I have often prayed and longed for the feeling, the deep abiding sense, of satisfaction. My eyes naturally find the things that need to be done or the things that didn't get done quite well enough. Always plagued by perfectionism.
But at last, for the first time in my life, I feel myself falling back into the arms of simplicity. A culmination of events beckoning me to savour the essence of life.
These events are not wrapped in relaxation. They are really just the opposite. So much so that surrender to simplicity is my only path to peace.
In just a few years my life evolved from the total self indulgence of childless womanhood to reckless abandon to the needs of a complete family. Nia, now 3 and Ian, 6 who came into our lives 2 years ago through adoption.
In the loss of self indulgence the simplicity of satisfaction gently seeped in. I found the glorious end of myself. The dawn of being poured out has emerged.
Not without a fight. The dreams that accompany independence die hard. Accomplishments that gain recognition give way to accomplishments that no one sees but my God. Somewhere in the journey of servanthood my satisfaction emerged. A supernatural blessing given when we surrender to the needs of others.
"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay his life down for his friends(1)." Love. Simple and satisfying. Not found in perfection but found in surrender to the greater good.
My friend, if you have lost satisfaction look to Love. Surrender to it. Determine to let go of all that perishes. The crowns that we earn will be directly related to the pursuit of it.
"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers(2)."
(1) John 15:13
(2) 1 John 3:16
Friday, October 23, 2009
The Ultimate Mom Speech
So my six year old, "Ian" (blog name only) comes home from school today with an attitude that makes you think maybe there is something to this whole home school thing. From the get go I could tell he was going to play the "who's in control card." I spent a good part of the day painting his bathroom and when I asked him about it when he got home he acted like he couldn't tell what the difference was (he is very perceptive and there was no question the he was being aloof). Even "Nia" (blog name), my three year old was like, "you are not being very nice to mommy." So then after several other attempts to crawl under my skin he asks for a snack. Dinner was cooking so I cut up an apple for him. He goes and sits down at the table and I said, "OK bud, apples ready." He says, "well why don't you bring it to me (with an air of sarcasm)." Final straw. I say, "why don't you go to my room and wait for me and think about how you are supposed to speak to me."
So after a good 20 minutes or so I venture into my room having formulated the mommy speech of the decade in my head while stewing vegetables.
"So tell me why you are in here," I ask. He fumbles around for something to say and comes up with something decent. "OK, here's the thing bud- you will give me your full respect. Not only do I deserve it, but I have earned it. I am not your friend, I am your mother (with him I have to draw this distinction). You will not talk to me, even in a joking manner, as anything less. Son do you understand what humility is?" He gives me a great answer, something like "treating you like the mother, being kind, like the Lord is humble (he really is a great kid)." "Yes, that is exactly what humility is. Let me explain how I show humility to you. Can you guess how much money my education cost, as in college and graduate school?" "A hundred dollars, he asks?" "More," I say. After a few more child-like attempts to guess I say, "try tens of thousands. Do you think that with that much education I might be able to do something besides clean the house and cook meals for you? Do you think that maybe I could find a job that would actually pay me lots of money to work so hard?" "Yes," he says shyly beginning to gather where I am going with this. "Yes son, I could find a job and I could be paying someone else to take care of you and Nia while I work. Would you like that?" "No," he says. "Son, I love taking care of you. Staying home is a sacrifice I am thankful to make. However, the next time you consider speaking to me like I am your personal servant you need to remember that there are other things I could be doing but I choose to take care of you instead. I have earned your respect."
What I didn't say was that I had to text my husband to tell him not to spend any money out of checking because we only have $20 in the bank. It is a sacrifice. I have earned his respect. It is an investment I have never questioned. It is where I am using my education. And it is worth every penny.
So after a good 20 minutes or so I venture into my room having formulated the mommy speech of the decade in my head while stewing vegetables.
"So tell me why you are in here," I ask. He fumbles around for something to say and comes up with something decent. "OK, here's the thing bud- you will give me your full respect. Not only do I deserve it, but I have earned it. I am not your friend, I am your mother (with him I have to draw this distinction). You will not talk to me, even in a joking manner, as anything less. Son do you understand what humility is?" He gives me a great answer, something like "treating you like the mother, being kind, like the Lord is humble (he really is a great kid)." "Yes, that is exactly what humility is. Let me explain how I show humility to you. Can you guess how much money my education cost, as in college and graduate school?" "A hundred dollars, he asks?" "More," I say. After a few more child-like attempts to guess I say, "try tens of thousands. Do you think that with that much education I might be able to do something besides clean the house and cook meals for you? Do you think that maybe I could find a job that would actually pay me lots of money to work so hard?" "Yes," he says shyly beginning to gather where I am going with this. "Yes son, I could find a job and I could be paying someone else to take care of you and Nia while I work. Would you like that?" "No," he says. "Son, I love taking care of you. Staying home is a sacrifice I am thankful to make. However, the next time you consider speaking to me like I am your personal servant you need to remember that there are other things I could be doing but I choose to take care of you instead. I have earned your respect."
What I didn't say was that I had to text my husband to tell him not to spend any money out of checking because we only have $20 in the bank. It is a sacrifice. I have earned his respect. It is an investment I have never questioned. It is where I am using my education. And it is worth every penny.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Grief
Hello Dear Readers,
I have the rare occasion to be at home alone so there is not much I would rather do than spend a few moments writing.
I want to talk about Grief for a moment.
I have grieved a few things in my life. Probably the hardest were the loss of my sister through addiction and the loss of a best friend through misunderstanding.
Grief is our response to loss, broken dreams, broken relationships, and death. Grief is a process. Grief has many spectrums. The most familiar of these are phases of Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and various forms of Acceptance. Grief is fluid and comes in waves. Grief is how we deal with a fallen world.
I want to discuss some of what grief can look like:
Denial is the classic coping mechanism for handling matters in life that are too difficult to accept. Sometimes we accept reality in phases, sometimes we never embrace it completely. It is a very human way of dealing with life. I saw a T-shirt once that said "Denial is my happy place." Not always a happy place, but for many it's better than dealing with reality.
Anger is a protective emotion for many complex feelings we experience. Anger is often the blanket that covers our grief. It is many times general and can be directed at things that have seemingly nothing to do with our grief process.
Bargaining is tricky to understand. Sometimes it comes in the form of trying to figure out how to reverse the situation that caused the grief, hence takes the appearance of bargaining. Sometimes it's with God, sometimes it's with others, sometimes it's with ourselves. "If only I do this, then maybe this..." It is a last ditch effort to not move into acceptance.
Depression is probably the most identifiable form of grief. Depression is actually grief that is submitted to the reality of loss. There is nothing left but sadness. A numb reality that what is is not going to change. From here we either forge into the healing process as we experience our grief or we continue to battle between depression and the other coping mechanisms above until we are ready to move forward. Sadly, some people do not move into healing and many times fall prey to a bitter existence thwarted with negative emotions.
Acceptance is the culmination of the healing process. Acceptance too comes in waves. Many times it seems as though the waves come slowly at first, then more and more frequently. Many will attest that Acceptance fluctuates indefinitely and healing is a life long journey.
I know anyone who reads this can find themselves or someone they know in this difficult journey.
I would love for you to share.
I have the rare occasion to be at home alone so there is not much I would rather do than spend a few moments writing.
I want to talk about Grief for a moment.
I have grieved a few things in my life. Probably the hardest were the loss of my sister through addiction and the loss of a best friend through misunderstanding.
Grief is our response to loss, broken dreams, broken relationships, and death. Grief is a process. Grief has many spectrums. The most familiar of these are phases of Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and various forms of Acceptance. Grief is fluid and comes in waves. Grief is how we deal with a fallen world.
I want to discuss some of what grief can look like:
Denial is the classic coping mechanism for handling matters in life that are too difficult to accept. Sometimes we accept reality in phases, sometimes we never embrace it completely. It is a very human way of dealing with life. I saw a T-shirt once that said "Denial is my happy place." Not always a happy place, but for many it's better than dealing with reality.
Anger is a protective emotion for many complex feelings we experience. Anger is often the blanket that covers our grief. It is many times general and can be directed at things that have seemingly nothing to do with our grief process.
Bargaining is tricky to understand. Sometimes it comes in the form of trying to figure out how to reverse the situation that caused the grief, hence takes the appearance of bargaining. Sometimes it's with God, sometimes it's with others, sometimes it's with ourselves. "If only I do this, then maybe this..." It is a last ditch effort to not move into acceptance.
Depression is probably the most identifiable form of grief. Depression is actually grief that is submitted to the reality of loss. There is nothing left but sadness. A numb reality that what is is not going to change. From here we either forge into the healing process as we experience our grief or we continue to battle between depression and the other coping mechanisms above until we are ready to move forward. Sadly, some people do not move into healing and many times fall prey to a bitter existence thwarted with negative emotions.
Acceptance is the culmination of the healing process. Acceptance too comes in waves. Many times it seems as though the waves come slowly at first, then more and more frequently. Many will attest that Acceptance fluctuates indefinitely and healing is a life long journey.
I know anyone who reads this can find themselves or someone they know in this difficult journey.
I would love for you to share.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Addiction
I want to open a discussion about addiction and addictive behavior. My prayer is that the discussion is in depth, meaningful, and liberating- and that many of you will openly participate in the discussion:)
So let's start with the question, "what is addiction?"
What do you think defines addiction and/or addictive behavior? When does addictive behavior become addiction? Talk to me. Feel free to use the search bar to stir up some ideas.
I have a lot to say on the subject, a whole lot, but I would love for you to start.
So let's start with the question, "what is addiction?"
What do you think defines addiction and/or addictive behavior? When does addictive behavior become addiction? Talk to me. Feel free to use the search bar to stir up some ideas.
I have a lot to say on the subject, a whole lot, but I would love for you to start.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Perfection is a Mythical Creature
We celebrated my daughter's 3rd birthday yesterday. It was 72 and sunny with a cool breeze- what a beautiful day for my beautiful girl.
My little "Nyah" (her nickname for this blog and part of her middle name for those who know her) has ushered untold wisdom into my life since her arrival 3 years ago. Probably the most profoundly difficult truth is the fact that perfection as a woman and as a mother is really a mythical creature. Not that I truly believed it was attainable before I had her- it's just that I had not let go of the possibility; that I still believed it existed somewhere in the blissful waters of mature womanhood...
Although some people seem to have always understood the grace of simply being human, my personality sets me up for disappointment most of the time. I am naturally very analytical (which my husband says is a trait named after me- ana/lytical), and I am very insistent about the pursuit of quality control. Some of you will understand this in the terms of being a Lion/Beaver, a D/C, or a Choleric/Melancholy- not exactly the most easy going of personalities...
Understanding all this, the myth of perfection is something I have had to embrace- for my own sanity and for the sake of my family's happiness.
For me the myth of perfection could really be summarized in these terms:
-My house will never be perfectly clean, ever.
-Clutter will never be a thing of the past- mail will keep coming and backpacks full of papers will persist.
-The days of showering blissfully every morning are over. I have mastered the art of faking fresh.
-My fluffy blue housecoat will be worn long after an acceptable time in the morning, as it is now.
-My house shoes are not cute, they are functional.
-I now define my workout regime by how much housework I've attempted and how many laps around the house I've made chasing my children. Real workouts are now considered a luxury item- no longer a chore but a welcomed treat.
-Any project that I start will have to live with the reality of constant interruptions and periods of exile.
-My email box will always be out of control.
-If I have a "perfect day" of playing with my children the house will be a disaster; conversely, if I have a "perfect house" at the end of the day my children will not have been my priority.
And I could go on...
Lately I've come to really own the fact that the closest we can get to perfection is aspiring to great faith and being a conduit of great love. These things, consequently, do not originate from me at all- they exude from a vulnerable place of Divine submission to the fact that only God is perfect, and I can only aspire to reflect His perfect truths. In this place I can let go of the anxiety of mythical pressures and I can embrace the grace given to an imperfect humanity.
My little "Nyah" (her nickname for this blog and part of her middle name for those who know her) has ushered untold wisdom into my life since her arrival 3 years ago. Probably the most profoundly difficult truth is the fact that perfection as a woman and as a mother is really a mythical creature. Not that I truly believed it was attainable before I had her- it's just that I had not let go of the possibility; that I still believed it existed somewhere in the blissful waters of mature womanhood...
Although some people seem to have always understood the grace of simply being human, my personality sets me up for disappointment most of the time. I am naturally very analytical (which my husband says is a trait named after me- ana/lytical), and I am very insistent about the pursuit of quality control. Some of you will understand this in the terms of being a Lion/Beaver, a D/C, or a Choleric/Melancholy- not exactly the most easy going of personalities...
Understanding all this, the myth of perfection is something I have had to embrace- for my own sanity and for the sake of my family's happiness.
For me the myth of perfection could really be summarized in these terms:
-My house will never be perfectly clean, ever.
-Clutter will never be a thing of the past- mail will keep coming and backpacks full of papers will persist.
-The days of showering blissfully every morning are over. I have mastered the art of faking fresh.
-My fluffy blue housecoat will be worn long after an acceptable time in the morning, as it is now.
-My house shoes are not cute, they are functional.
-I now define my workout regime by how much housework I've attempted and how many laps around the house I've made chasing my children. Real workouts are now considered a luxury item- no longer a chore but a welcomed treat.
-Any project that I start will have to live with the reality of constant interruptions and periods of exile.
-My email box will always be out of control.
-If I have a "perfect day" of playing with my children the house will be a disaster; conversely, if I have a "perfect house" at the end of the day my children will not have been my priority.
And I could go on...
Lately I've come to really own the fact that the closest we can get to perfection is aspiring to great faith and being a conduit of great love. These things, consequently, do not originate from me at all- they exude from a vulnerable place of Divine submission to the fact that only God is perfect, and I can only aspire to reflect His perfect truths. In this place I can let go of the anxiety of mythical pressures and I can embrace the grace given to an imperfect humanity.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Love is a Verb, Precisely Defined by Motherhood...
I was curious to see what would happen if I stepped back for a few days... and you kept reading! I must have a lot of browsers though because I have found that if I'm not writing, you're not writing.
So I'm back in my chair, happily.
Mother's day is this weekend. I became a mother on Mother's Day, May 14th, three years ago. I knew the greatest transition into motherhood would be letting go of being the center of my universe. When you have children, you are no longer the center of your world, you know. It is not about you any more. And I was all about me, and I knew it- as far as creature comforts are concerned especially. I like to sleep, I like my food hot, I like quiet- a lot, I like to walk fast, I like to blaze through a check list- uninterrupted.
Mother's, you are now laughing. You know these comforts are the first to go. I no longer have to have hot food... food of any kind is good- kids leftovers are not off limits, especially in a hurry. Getting any project done quickly is now a day dream (except in the bedroom). Everything is interrupted, and I mean everything -romantic rendezvous are now "quick- before the kids get out of the tub!" Walking anywhere quickly is only happening if I am chasing one of my children, otherwise they are lagging behind, in a beautiful world of their own. There is no more running here and there, it is now all about loading up the car with all necessary snacks, water, and preparations, getting to destination, unloading and proceeding with the caravan.
Motherhood is all about meeting your children's needs unselfishly. Motherhood is the epitome of love defined. It is challenging not so much because of the physical grind, but because of the daily sacrifice of your own personal desires.
If you are a Mother, a good mother, love is what you do everyday. Love is a verb as far as I'm concerned. Love is a state of being but it is always detectable by action.
True, I've reserved this little corner of the world for myself. You will not find pictures of my children on this blog (mainly for their own protection), and you will not find me talking about my role as a mother all too much. But, without my children I loose my most praiseworthy calling. I am so proud to be a mother. I am so proud of my amazing children. I am so proud to have given birth to one physically and another with my heart and soul. I am so proud to take them out and see them brighten the faces of everyone around. It's not me they notice. It's them. They shine, and that makes me shine.
I would so love to hear what's on your nurturing heart. This weekend is all about you, and me.
When it comes to These People
When it comes to these people
I love outside the breadth of my own capabilities
When it comes to these people
I feel beyond the limits of my own understanding
When it comes to these people
I must not feel like nothing for I am everything
When it comes to these people
the abundance of my heart knows no restrictions
When it comes to these people
I know not the limits of confinement but the freedom of sacrifice
When it comes to these people
I am willing
…I love these people.
Happy Mother's Day my Sisters.
So I'm back in my chair, happily.
Mother's day is this weekend. I became a mother on Mother's Day, May 14th, three years ago. I knew the greatest transition into motherhood would be letting go of being the center of my universe. When you have children, you are no longer the center of your world, you know. It is not about you any more. And I was all about me, and I knew it- as far as creature comforts are concerned especially. I like to sleep, I like my food hot, I like quiet- a lot, I like to walk fast, I like to blaze through a check list- uninterrupted.
Mother's, you are now laughing. You know these comforts are the first to go. I no longer have to have hot food... food of any kind is good- kids leftovers are not off limits, especially in a hurry. Getting any project done quickly is now a day dream (except in the bedroom). Everything is interrupted, and I mean everything -romantic rendezvous are now "quick- before the kids get out of the tub!" Walking anywhere quickly is only happening if I am chasing one of my children, otherwise they are lagging behind, in a beautiful world of their own. There is no more running here and there, it is now all about loading up the car with all necessary snacks, water, and preparations, getting to destination, unloading and proceeding with the caravan.
Motherhood is all about meeting your children's needs unselfishly. Motherhood is the epitome of love defined. It is challenging not so much because of the physical grind, but because of the daily sacrifice of your own personal desires.
If you are a Mother, a good mother, love is what you do everyday. Love is a verb as far as I'm concerned. Love is a state of being but it is always detectable by action.
True, I've reserved this little corner of the world for myself. You will not find pictures of my children on this blog (mainly for their own protection), and you will not find me talking about my role as a mother all too much. But, without my children I loose my most praiseworthy calling. I am so proud to be a mother. I am so proud of my amazing children. I am so proud to have given birth to one physically and another with my heart and soul. I am so proud to take them out and see them brighten the faces of everyone around. It's not me they notice. It's them. They shine, and that makes me shine.
I would so love to hear what's on your nurturing heart. This weekend is all about you, and me.
When it comes to These People
When it comes to these people
I love outside the breadth of my own capabilities
When it comes to these people
I feel beyond the limits of my own understanding
When it comes to these people
I must not feel like nothing for I am everything
When it comes to these people
the abundance of my heart knows no restrictions
When it comes to these people
I know not the limits of confinement but the freedom of sacrifice
When it comes to these people
I am willing
…I love these people.
Happy Mother's Day my Sisters.
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