The Giver

I was talking to a friend today who was in the midst of a midlife crisis.

"I want to do something big, I want to go somewhere, hug some orphans, dig wells.  Anything!"

I totally feel the same way sometimes.

I want to make people see the world differently, love the beauty of nature, of motherhood, of salvation. I want them to see God as the center of all things good and lovely - with the understanding that all we see is His shadow, all we hear is his echo, that His substance is something we cannot understand and could not bear to look at.  It is too great for us.

I still want to change the world.  It's hard when your soul is on fire to do something great and then you reach out, take a tiny hand and change a child.

I feel like the greatest thing I will ever do is release 5 fragile little souls into the wind and weep as a dandelion must, to see them blown about until they find their place in the world and take root to blossom into sunshine for a season.

The majesty of motherhood is not in gathering up a body of work, a collection of art, nobel prizes or trophies, but in giving our selves piece by piece to our children, in planting a seed, a hope, a life.

And I struggle over this.

There is a piece of me that wants to be me - apart from being a mother, a wife, a friend.  And I want to get to know that other me that wants to write and be good at it, sing until it breaks a soul open to God, speak and challenge thinkers to think their noblest thoughts.

And so I write, and sing and speak in the humble theater of my home.  And I do my work of praising God through 5 little megaphones.

When I Consider How My Light Is Spent

BY JOHN MILTON

When I consider how my light is spent,

   Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,

   And that one Talent which is death to hide

   Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

   My true account, lest he returning chide;

   “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”

   I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need

   Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best

   Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed

   And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:

   They also serve who only stand and wait.”

The Notebook

Remember not too long ago

when I named your notebooks, lunchbox, coat?

when the sharpie wrote unbleeding

on everything from floor to ceiling?

when I brushed that hair and made that bed

and carefully chose the books we read?

This notebook pushed aside un-needed

in a bookshelf left un-weeded

is a picture of how tall you've grown

how strong you are, your mind's your own.

Childhood sheds it's coat of laughter

it's labeled toys, it's happily-ever-after

But one thing I ask - this is a must!

don't let your God grow grey with dust.

Your boyhood Savior and childhood friend

knows your begining and has no end

He named all the stars and after that, it's true,

He took out his sharpie and labeled you.

So grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord 

your childhood treasure, your manhood reward.

I found a notebook of Zak's from last year and read through some of his journal entries.  I had to stop when I got to the page that said  "Quick write: What is the meaning of Life".  This was his response:

"I think the meaning of life is a really hard question but it says it right in the Bible (I forgot where) but it says that we Christians are to make disciples of other people and to obey God."

Mama

Mama rocks the craddle
just like that
mama rocks the craddle
where you lay on your back .
Just like that, just like that
mama rocks that craddle with a smile while you nap.

Mama wears a halo
you wear a hat
she put it on your head
just like that.
Just like that, just like that
with the bow in the middle and the tag in the back.

Mama always loves you
mama always will
mama blows you kisses from the window sill
Just like that, just like that
mama blows you kisses and you always blow them back
to your mama to your mama who taught you love's soundtrack.




weak end rhyme I know but after batting this one around in my head for the last couple of days I just had to finish it.

Happy Mother's Day!

On Motherhood

belly fat, sagging rack
the little ache in my lower back
unwaxed eyebrows
"mommy" nails
child proof locks
safety rails

The agony of labor
the burp rags full of spit
despite all this I'm forced to admit
it is still with out doubt entirely worth it!

Zak told me that in kindergarten when his teacher asked him "What are mommies made of" one of his friends replied, "Mommies are made of pretty!" I think that by this point in my life I am made of at least 20% chocolate and probably about 10% donut. I'm not quiet sure about the remaining 70%, hopefully some of it is still pretty!

Ever feel like this?

Let's play dress up
jewels and jeans
sword fighting knights
beautiful queens
.. all alone by myself in a houseful of kids

What's next you say?
hand print flowers
finger paint rainbows?
They've been painting for hours
... all alone by myself in a houseful of kids

heading to bed
brush your teeth
say your prayers
thank goodness they never found me
in my hiding place downstairs!!

Not so great poem

Food shampoo, applesauce lotion
constant noise, constant motion

dirt in the bathtub, draining in swirls
I'm checking those bellybuttons for pearls!

a dinning room carpet that always goes crunch
remnants from breakfast, left-overs from lunch

cooking for armies, only 5 for dinner
you know mac n' cheese is always a winner!

someday: tidy kitchen, healthy dinner, empty table
and sad little me, eating dinner watching cable.