The Tremor Of Her

April 8, 2014September 22, 201610 Comments

I miss her.

Every day.

Every moment.

When I see my sons holding my baby daughter’s face in their little toddler hands – When I am holding a grudge against my husband and digging my heels in the sand because I am right about where that couch should go and he is wrong- I miss her.

Recently I have noticed little ways of how I seem to be becoming more and more like her. How even though she is gone I can feel the tremor of her in my moments. Every day.

Lately I have found myself saying and doing things the same way she used to. When you are younger you never think you will become your mother. But you do.

Her voice tremors through mine even when I least expect it.

Even though I miss her, I believe she lives on in me and I am thankful to be able to share her wise and crazy quirks with my sons and my daughter with hopes they will someday feel the tremor of her in their stories as well.

That secret stash of chocolates I have in my pantry reminds me of her. She used to hide snickers bars in the freezer.

She used to sing “another one bites the dust” when one of my siblings fell asleep. When I was a child I thought this was a cruel way to respond to your babes falling asleep but now I find myself bom-bom-bomming along to that same tune as my children nod off in the evening.

The words, “I’ll give you something to cry about” have come out of my mouth when my children are crying because they can’t find their eyebrows or their bath time is too wet. Again, cruel words I swore I would never say now make a completely acceptable and appropriate phrase to pass on to my children.

I have dinner on the table almost every night at 6pm on the dot. This annoyed me as a child but now it is a part of the rhythm and routine of my daily life.

I feel the tremor of her when I make her poppyseed bread at Christmas.

I feel the tremor of her when I huddle all my kids and my husband together for a “hunga bunga” which is a completely embarrassing group hug where the whole family jumps up and down while chanting “hunga bunga.”

I play rummy like her and taught my husband. I despise cooking and do anything I can to make it as easy as possible.

Every birthday party is special for my kids just like she made birthdays special for me.

I am grateful for a season where I can move beyond the feelings of sadness and anger that go along with my grief. In the seasons of sadness and anger it is too hard to find the simple and joyful ways how the fourteen years I had with her have impacted me for a lifetime.

I know through the years the Lord will continue to reveal more ways of how she is a significant part of my story.

I am thankful my children can experience their grandmother through the simple ways she lives on through me and I pray even though they never knew her my kids will feel the tremor of her in their stories for years to come and maybe years from now they will bom bom bom along as their own children “bite the dust” for the evening.

My mom lost her seven year battle with breast cancer sixteen years ago this week. If you have a memory of her please share it here in the comments. I know it would bless my siblings and I greatly to hear about more joyful memories of her and you might help us discover more ways we can feel the tremor of her in our lives as adults.

I Hope You Don’t Find Perfect Love…

February 26, 2014March 1, 20145 Comments

As a young woman I saw perfect loves in the movies and heard of perfect love stories in ballads on my radio in my hatchback manual Saab.

The idea of a perfect love brainwashed me into thinking all my relationships would be saturated with whisk-me-away-romantic moments. I really at my core believed if I ever had a dispute with one of the men in my life it would only be moments before they would show up on my doorstep (in the rain of course) with an I’m-sorry-bouquet of flowers.

And that NEVER happened.

Darn love stories.

Darn love songs.

In a way I was disappointed.

My expectations gave me a twisted view of myself and others.

I was naive. My expectations for this so called perfect love ruined any relationship I ever had.

How could any of my boyfriends ever have competed with the image I had in my head-comparing them to a soaked and sexy Ryan Gosling on my front doorstep with a drippy bouquet of flowers and begging of my forgiveness?

What I was seeing on the screen and hearing on the radio built up my expectations for perfect love and left me waiting in my home for ‘no one’ soaking wet with a bouquet of hydrangeas at my front door.

I was left questioning all the moves of my significant others. If my boyfriends couldn’t execute love like in the movies and the characters I compared them to I became suspicious of men…suspicious of perfect love… I became suspicious of myself.

I began to believe lies that I just wasn’t good enough for a perfect love and believed that maybe I didn’t deserve love at all.

The combination of all of the above became very dangerous for me and like a ticking time bomb my expectations literally blew up every relationship I had.

I would like to point the finger at culture and the misrepresentation of perfect love on the radio and displayed on the screens we hold in our hands.

However, I think the real person to blame is me and how I visualized love as being perfect right from the beginning.

Perfect:

: having no mistakes or flaws

: completely correct or accurate

: having all the qualities you want in that kind of person, situation, etc.

Anyone really in a loving and committed relationship knows that love is not perfect at all.

How can love be perfect when the two people in love are not perfect themselves?

As a Christian, I believe that on this side of heaven I will never be perfect. I believe that my self absorption, my bitterness with others, my desire to be righteous like God is all so bad that it requires the penalty of Jesus’ dying on the cross in order for me to be right with God.

I believe in a gospel, the good news, that on this earth I will never be perfect but I am loved by my God – even with

my imperfections.

I am in process.

I am perfectly imperfect.

Actually I am perfecting.

perfecting: in process of becoming perfect or coming to completion

What I know now is in real life love is not perfect. Love on earth between two people is full of mistakes and blemishes. Love on earth is two flawed people choosing to live and love all the imperfections of one another.

There is a misconception of love in our culture. The idea of perfect love is not only on our screens and radios but it breeds in our expectant minds it is spewing out of our lips.

“Oh, he is perfect” or “You are the perfect couple”.

Sure the idea of perfect love is in the movies but we are perpetuating it with our words.

Loving relationships are not perfect. They are perfecting. Love is the perfect moments mixed in with the refining – imperfect ones. I can tell you with certainty I love my husband more now than I did when I met him. Sure he was charming back then and always on his best behavior but in perfecting love I get to be alongside him as he grows and changes into the better verison of who God is making him to be.

Perfecting love can be tough.

Perfecting love is a love that grows.

Perfecting love goes through seasons of giddiness, gladness, anger, sadness.

Perfecting love experiences disappointment.

Perfecting love dwells in the colder seasons knowing that a new season will come.

Perfecting love makes us better men and women as we walk alongside one another and experience a front row seat in the perfecting process of one another.

Truth connection:

I want you to go back to that image of Ryan Gosling soaking wet at your front door with a bouquet of flowers. (Hard to go there I know)

I want you to know it is right to desire this kind of perfect love where from the beginning you are sought after and constantly pursued with a never giving up always and forever kind of love.

I want you to know this kind of love exists but we look for it in a man on earth when this never giving up always and forever kind of pursuing love is actually found in God.

Perfect love is only found when we find it nailed to a cross. Crazy I know but true. The idea of a man loving you so much that he would die for you originated with God. We are hard wired to long for perfect love. You just won’t find it in a boyfriend, fiancé or spouse.

I hope you never find perfect love in any earthly man. I wish you will find perfecting love. The kind of love committed to the process of you being made perfect over a lifetime of some of the coldest and warmest seasons.

And I hope you do not find perfect love anywhere else but on a cross – where a God that loves you so much He died for you. He pursued you. He is still pursing you. He is where you find the man soaking wet on your doorstep pursing you with a never giving up always and forever kind of love.

I hope you don’t find perfect love in anything else but Him.

Romans 5:8

But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us.

Why The Twos Aren’t Terrible

August 14, 2013June 22, 20166 Comments

I cringe every time I hear someone say the phrase.

It’s like anticipating a great meal at a restaurant and someone tells you, oh… but it’s terrible. Or the movie you’ve waited to see all year gets a terrible review and you read it right after purchasing your ticket.

Hearing the phrase “terrible twos” can be a major let down. It sets young mothers up to anticipate a year of pure horror. I cringe when I hear a more experienced mom telling a newer mom these words. It makes moms look at the year of two through a lens of negativity, anticipating the worst.

Now in all seriousness, I am a realist and I don’t live in on a fluffy cloud of sparkles with rainbows and unicorns. My children are just like all other children. They throw tantrums and disobey my voice. My children are opinionated, strong willed and have been found to lay face down on the floor crying during church. But my children are far from terrible.

My oldest is four and a half and my second born turns three in a few days. I am not an expert but I have recently lived through two (almost) consecutive years of life with a two year old (I have a twenty one month old as well so I am on the brink of another stab at it).

And I will say it. The twos aren’t terrible at all and I really wish I would stop hearing the bummer phrase. I am really on a mission to stop the phrase all together.

The year of two should be called “The Passionate Twos” instead.

Okay, so the alliteration is not there but the terrible defined is: to cause great fear or alarm or even dreadful.

In contrast, passionate defined is: capable of having or dominated by powerful emotions.

Have you ever looked at a two year old and sensed great fear?

I don’t sense great fear looking at that baby face.

But The Passionate Two Year Old is very capable of having powerful emotions (like: laying face down on the floor and crying their sweet little eyes out).

They cry big but the laugh big and love big too.

The Passionate Two Year Old is learning to express what they want.

Instead of a “grown up” nonchalant eye roll or deep sigh, twos only know how to lay on the floor and cry.

And I don’t blame them either. A two year old does not yet have the social cues to know that it is unacceptable to lay on the floor and cry and a two year old has not quite learned how to deal with disappointment because they have experienced very few disappointing circumstances in their short seven hundred and thirtyish days of living.

Really, since birth a two year old has (pretty much) gotten what they needed when they needed it.

Diaper changes, food, sleep and playtime and then when their little brains start thinking in their own way and hear the word “no” we as adults have decided to call the The Passionate Two Year Old, being dominated by intense emotion, terrible or dreadful.

Why do we do that? And why do we then feel like we are important enough to turn around and let younger moms know “what is coming.”

How could this be terrible?

How could someone who wants to “be cozy with you” be terrible?

How could someone who builds a tall tower for the first time and says, “I did it mommy” be terrible?

Two year olds go through so much change and we should give them more credit. Their ability to speak and reason change dramatically in their second year and most two year olds change to a toddler bed, get a new sibling, give up their pacifiers and learn how to use the potty in the year of two.

That is an enormous amount of change for a little one.

As adults we ask two year olds to cope with so much and then gasp when they express intense emotion.

I think two year olds are pretty amazing.

Curious.

And sweet.

But just because they are passionate does not make them terrible at all.

If you are expecting, have an infant or a one year old please know what is coming next is not terrible, dreadful or a year of intense fear.

The year of two is teaching your precious, sweet, curious child to deal with their intense emotions they are experiencing for the first time like disappointment, jealousy, envy and loss. (I honestly know many adults well into their thirties who don’t handle any of those emotions very well yet.)

The year of two is filled with some of the best story times, longest snuggles, I love you mommys, first sweet thankful prayers, bear hugs, imaginative play and curiosity that cannot be harnessed.

Advocate for your Passionate Two Year Old and stop saying “Terrible Twos!”

Sheesh, two year olds are not terrible at all.

Happy Birthday Sweet Asher, your passion, sweetness and curiosity have inspired this post and made me a better mommy.

Hurry

July 1, 2013February 5, 20142 Comments

A few months ago I went to Legoland with my husband and our three sons. As you approach the entrance there is a large display that reads “Legoland” made from of course Legos.

This is a great place to take a quick photo but for anyone that has three children four and under you know snapping a good shot is anything but quick. The children wanted to look at the Legos, touch the Legos and play on them. Not stand still for a photo.

Entrance of Legoland Deutschland (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I found myself hurrying them along and as the line got longer with others wanting to take a family shot the pressure to go faster intensified.

“Hurry,” I said behind my squinting smile.

Just an hour later we were in the back of the park and I was standing near a ride’s entrance behind a stroller where my Caleb was napping while the big boys and Michael enjoyed a boat ride.

I am an observer so as the time passed I was watched everyone and everything around me.

I observed a group of school aged children on a field trip playing with one of the Lego structures. They were just being kids and having fun but I could tell their teacher was annoyed. There were others waiting for their turn as well.

“Hurry,” she said.

Of course my initial reaction was self-righteous, how could she rush them along like that? They are just enjoying themselves and not hurting anyone.

But then The Lord humbled me and helped me recall my similar reaction at the front entrance with my own children.

I began to think about the question, why hurry?

We are always in a hurry.

Hurry, get you shoes on.

Hurry, get in the car.

Hurry, stop lolly gagging.

Hurry, it’s time to go.

Hurry, download faster.

Hurry, I don’t have time for red lights or a traffic jam.

As I listened to myself for the next couple of weeks I found that I was always rushing my kids along. I began to wonder if I was causing my kids to miss out on opportunities to just be kids and enjoy the moments of curious childhood.

Not to mention all the stress I am causing myself by living in this state of go, go, go. My poor tiny heart is on the verge of exploding.

With summer here (and blazing hot if I can just add that one too) in the Midwest it seems as though there is an impulse reaction to sign your kids up for every program you can. I don’t know if it is pressure to keep them learning or parents just needing to keep them in a routine.

There is the pressure to keep up and to hurry.

Summers seem to have become the busiest time of the year. With trips, camps and programs it is hard to slow down and it seems to be more difficult to track down my friends.

I thought summer was supposed to be about rest. A season of siesta.

I remember summers when I was younger: laying in the grass and making whistles out the green blades, catching lightning bugs, sleeping in the backyard, letting your bare feet withstand the hot pavement as long as you can, soaking up the sun at the pool or just laying around watching movies and reading books.

Now with all the hurry summer seems to move by more quickly than the rest of the year which leaves little time to enjoy the season.

Hot Summer Nights Fireworks in Myrtle Beach, SC (Photo credit: Jason Barnette Photography)

So what?

I don’t know. But I don’t think it is a good thing that summer has gotten so busy because I am in such a hurry to keep my kids in a routine.

I have been thinking about the verse, Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted among the earth.

I can feel God telling me, Rachel, be still at the amusement park. I am in control and not the crowd of people surrounding you.

Rachel, let your spirit be still when you are running a little late.Have I not written this story down? Is the pressure to have all three children to their classes on time outside of my doing?

Rachel, be still this summer. Your children will survive if they don’t keep up with their reading and bible verses. I am in control of them too. I hold them in my hand.

I don’t know the answer to my question, why hurry but I can tell you what I am trying to stop all the hurry and work harder to be still.

Schedule lazy days into your routine.

I am trying to build more lazy days into my schedule. Somedays we just need to reset. We stay in our pajamas, build forts, play dress up and eat PB&J on a blanket in the backyard.

Bend the rules a little.

When you don’t have anywhere to be in the morning it is easier to feel okay about letting your kids stay up a little later to catch lightning bugs or go on a late night trip in their pajamas to grab some ice cream.

Watch when you say hurry.

I always found myself shooing my kids off the curbs at the zoo and our local amusement park. I have tried to stop rushing them along and just let them walk on the curb, at their own pace. It slows me down but within the boundaries of our day it allows them to have a little fun.

Don’t hurry, the summer will go by too quickly and it will be too cold for late night ice cream and back to backpacks and homework.