How Do You Do It?

I have been asked this question three times in the last twenty-four hours, and I've given three different answers.  However, the truth is that why and how I do it is all of grace.

You see, I've been the recipient of grace more times than I recount.  I received grace from my little sister when I repeatedly stole the spotlight.  I got grace from my momma when I wasn't willing to clean my room, fold my laundry, or do anything in a timely manner.  I found grace in the sight of my daddy when I came home late almost every single night.  I was given grace as a ten-year-old girl by my Lord and Savior when I begged Him to save me from my sins.  I found grace 14 months after I had miscarried our first child and held our first born son in my arms.  I am completely familiar with what grace is.

It is how I live each day being the mother of three small boys.  It is grace that gets me through our crazy breakfast routine which consists of making three different meals.  It is grace that reminds me that the messes they make are temporary.  It is grace that beckons me when I've reached my patience limit at only 9 o'clock.  It is grace that helps me tie every shoe, wipe every nose, change every diaper, clean every spill, correct every disobedient heart, prepare every specific meal, fight for every minute of nap time, spank for every sinful action, and wash every single load of laundry.  Grace is how I do it.

But, there are moments when, in my sin-filled, human heart, grace doesn't seem to be enough, and I throw my own little fits.  You see, I'm imperfect.  I don't always "grin and bear it."  I tend to play the part that I have it altogether, but I don't.  I'm as flawed as they come.  I once cried out to God to bless me with children, and now I'm blessed with three of them and still begging God for help.  I expected my children to be exactly as I had envisioned them...  obedient, quiet, clean, mild-mannered, and perfect.  I wanted their clothes to match, their mouths to be filled with kind words, their manners to be inherent, their hair to lay flat and always be brushed, their hearts to be full of love for those around them, and all of these other things that were dreams I thought needed to be fulfilled when I had each of them.

I learned quickly that my visions of perfection weren't going to come true.  Perfect isn't possible in this life, and yet I pushed it on each of our boys.  I push hard.  I cry.  I act like a child.  I yell.  I criticize.  And, when I finally have their attention and my own way, I realize how ridiculously sinful I have been.

It's through these precious boys that I have seen my sinful actions and faults, and I'm constantly running to my Father and begging for just a little bit more of HIS grace.  What I do isn't easy.  I don't always have it together.  I get really stressed and frustrated, and I usually take it out on my children.  But, I don't ever want them to think that grace isn't enough.  Because it is.  I'm learning that it's okay to apologize to a four-year-old for not trusting him (when I assumed he'd climbed the counter for another snack when he hadn't).  I'm seeing that it's necessary to ask my three-year-old for forgiveness when I've yelled a little too loudly.  I'm teaching my sixteen-month-old to say "sorry" by saying it to him when my frustration peaks at his need for being right under my feet.

If I don't teach these boys what grace is by showing it to them, I'm afraid they'll never know what God meant when He said, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9)."  Year from now, when they wonder how their mom did it, I want them to know the answer.  Grace, God's glorious, unmerited favor, freely given to me.

How do I do it, friends?  It's only by HIS grace...  and these sweet faces are worth it.

Post-bath crazy hair

Toasting their ice cream cups

Playing in baby brother's crib

Proudly wearing his mommy's Alaska shirt

Full bath of boys = Full heart for Mom

Cheesy grin

Mischievous smirk

Happy boy

Eating "curly" chips at Taco Bell

Smitten with Taco Bell's rice

Be Patient

We are currently teaching Daniel what it means to be patient. 

When he's screaming for his juice,
I will say, "What do you have to be?" 
Daniel will say, "Patient."

When he's yelling he's ready to go,
I will say, "What do you need to be?" 
Daniel will agree, "Patient."

When he's ready "right now" to get
out of his car seat, I must say,
"What should you be?"
Daniel will admit, "Patient."

When I ask him what that means, Daniel always answers, "Wait."  :)

In the past few days, I have been explaining what it means to be patient.  I feel definitions help us all understand things better!  Despite my explanations, I often have to remind Daniel that patient means to wait...  calmly.  gladly.  willingly.  I seriously say these words and phrases to my two-year-old as if he understands, and while he can repeat them perfectly, I'm learning that I too must be patient and wait. 

When I'm frustrated with toddler tantrums,
"What do I have to be?" 
God replys, "Patient."

When I want him out of diapers (like yesterday),
"What should I be?" 
God tells me, "Patient."

When he's being quite demanding,
"How should I react?" 
God whispers, "Patiently."

When he's made another mess,
"What do I need to be?" 
God says, "Patient."

When I'm ready to move past this stage,
God explains, "Be patient."

I find myself wishing his days away, ready for him to grow up and be a big kid, but there are days when I realize that this is my time to cherish Daniel for all he is.  Every energetic, strong-willed, defiant, confident, intelligent, sweet way within him is mine to cherish...  And while I hurry life along, God constantly is reminding me what being patient really means.  It means to wait...  calmly.  gladly.  willingly.

I don't ever want to forget these precious days, moments, and lessons.  Through this adorable toddler, I am learning more than I ever have in life.  I, for one, am enjoying patience.

Behind LOCKED Doors...

It has got to be every mothers' fear to be separated from her children.  There is just something about not knowing where they are or what they are doing when we cannot see their sweet faces.  My heart aches for parents whose children are missing or have gone on to be with Jesus long before it was their time.  With that being said, I realize that my short story of the day seems incomparible to those who've endured much more difficult circumstances.  However, the fear that the adversary would have us all encounter came all to quickly to me today.
Without thinking anything of it, I stepped out in the garage this afternoon to grab a pack of diaper wipes off the shelf and to get each boys' riding toy (On these hot days, I dare not take the boys out in the heat!).  I hadn't made it to the shelf when I realized a cup must have fallen from the van and had created a very large ant mound in the garage!  I have a thing with ants, meaning I literally despise them, but they keep finding their way into my house.  Nevertheless, I ran back into the house to grab our ever-present-help-in-times-of-need ant spray, walked back out to the garage, and quietly closed the door behind me.

I sprayed with such determination, I was almost surprised that neither of the boys had tried to open the door and get to me.  When I'd finished the job, I got the wipes and the toys, and headed back to the door.  It was at that point, I realized I was in a mess.

There I was, in the dead of summer, locked inside the garage, outside of my house, with my two children inside.  I figured that maybe Samuel had grabbed the lock accidentally and did it, because if it'd been Daniel, he'd been screaming, "Yay, I did it!"  However, what blessed my heart (despite being scared to death) was the fact that Daniel did begin screaming soon thereafter.  He was yelling, "Mommy, where are you?  I skeered."  He was banging on the door trying to get himself to me. 

I was honestly in panic mode trying to figure out how I was going to get back in the house!  At the time, I didn't realize how easily that could have taken place, but it was hot and I couldn't see my boys!  I slowly told Daniel what to do.  I didn't think there'd be any way in the world my 2-year-old would listen to directions, but he did what he had to do.  He did exactly as I told him.  Within minutes, I was in the foyer, loving on Daniel.

Can you imagine how the Father feels to be separated from HIS children?  There are so many times I find myself way too far away from His presence, and I wonder how to get closer to Him.  It's not that difficult because God never is far away from us.  He will never leave us if we are saved by His grace.  However, our separation from Him must hurt God so deeply.  God's doors are open...  Do not lock yourself out.

Can I Get an Amen?

Not too long before Daniel turned two, I became fairly serious about praying around Daniel.  A dear friend of mine suggested the idea of praying over our children, having them hear us pray aloud, and knowing they will imitate how we talk to our Heavenly Father.  I had never considered how children learned to pray, but I feel strongly that my kids should learn from me.

While I know that Daniel is only two, he caught on very quickly.  He held our hands while we prayed before dinner each night and would announce, "Amen!" when he was ready for Daddy's prayers to come to an end.  At night when I would put him into bed, I would pray for all of our family, his friends at Mother's Day Out, our church, and of course, for Daniel and Samuel to sleep well.  Daniel would wait until I finished speaking and would proudly exclaim, "Amen!"

I have to be honest, though, because I am not the best at following through.  There are days when I would forget to pray over our pancakes, and Daniel would yell, "Amen," in my direction. 

Tonight, my precious boy called me out yet again.  I was laying beside his bed as he finished his water.  It has been one of those days where I found myself completely frustrated that I had accomplished nothing around the house and Daniel had driven me up the wall with removing his clothes and spitting all day long.  I decided the silent treatment might help him fall asleep quickly, so I kept my eyes closed as he tossed and turned.  I have to admit, I was drifting off when Daniel rolled onto his back and began naming names...  "Mommy, Daddy, God, Mimi, James, sleepin', Pa, Pop, Ca, Connor, Bizso (Isabelle), Samuel." 

It was long into his "rambling" that I realized what he was doing... 

My two-year-old was praying for his family, friends, and rest!  It was the sweetest thing I'd ever heard!  While I was busy being my I'm too busy to pray tonight because I need to paint and load the dishwasher and empty the diaper genie and wrap a gift and get two hours of sleep before one of the boys wakes up ridiculously selfish self, my toddler (via my Heavenly Father) was teaching his Mommy a lesson. 

God has never been too preoccupied for me.  He has never once failed to listen to me.  He has taken the time to love me with His arms wide open, while there are innumerable times when I toss praying aside.  Daniel was not willing to let my lack of communication with the Father stop him from doing so.  Oh, how I need to make more time for God!  How I need to realize that my children are listening as I pray! 

I want to encourage you (and myself) to pray for your children daily...  Aloud.  Allow your kids to hear you praying for them.  I've found myself praying, "Lord, help me have patience with Daniel as he is pouring his orange gatorade all over my floor, Amen!" and my messy boy looked up and stopped.  He hears me.  One day, Daniel will realize that I turned to my Heavenly Father and prayed to Him, no matter the time of day or the amount of work I needed to get finished.  If God is listening, then I should be speaking.  If God is speaking, I should be listening... 

And tonight, Father, I heard you clearly through Daniel's precious prayers.