Like Hot Coals

I'm trying to be a better mother, so I'm not blogging as much as I'd like to. If I manage to post something either my children are left to their own devices (not good, by the way), or precious moments are stolen away from any chance I have to sit in quietness and read or pray...or sleep. So, even though I like the flow of my own written word, (yes, a jab at myself) I must restrain myself and try to focus on that which I can reach out and touch, whether it is a child or a dirty toilet. (I don't touch our toilet though, not like that. Rubber gloves, indeed the mother of all inventions.)
Anyway.
I realize I've not shared what has been most pressing to my heart lately, which was the effect our "Family Reunion" had on me. (I add quotations because when I describe the trip people often think I'm talking about my biological family.) What a blessing to have so many families. All of my life, I have been blessed with extension upon extension of mothers, sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts, etc. The Body of Christ, the Church, in warm flesh and blood. It seems that this blessing is rare among Christians. That's too sad a thought for me to accept at this point, so I need a few more decades to investigate.
Anyway.
I was encouraged and challenged. Nothing new, I know. But truly. To be surrounded by three other happy, healthy families who love each other so gently and purely. To see sacrifice, humor, gentle discipline, peace, joy, faithfulness, and on and on. I felt like a dark woman exposed and overheated by Light. I savored every moment we were together, but deep down, I was burning. Honestly, at times I was mad as hell. The hardness that had become my heart was molten lava, as I was exposed to brothers and sisters living out Love.
As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another. And sometimes it hurts. (Okay most of the time.) Because sometimes we need to see the godlessness we've accepted in place of Joy, Peace, Love. Sometimes we need to see what we're missing out on. And I, personally, had been forfeiting the Peace and Joy God has amply provided. Not to mention Fun.

Ballet Recital/Flippin' Father's Day

Finally, here are some photos of Li'l Bit's ballet recital. Well, actually, they're a few pictures of her on the day of her recital, since photos and videos were not permitted during the recital. (You know how fragile those dancers can be about camera lenses. Apparently. Pretentious. Anyway.)

Li'l Bit had a wonderful day thoroughly exercising every girly bone in her body. She got to watch Act 1 since she was in Act 2. It was just like when I took her to see the opera. Every few minutes she'd look at me, giggle, and nuzzle her nose to mine. She was giddy with girly glee!




Of course, there was some drama to be had. One of the girls in her class got flowers at the end of the show. One of the girls--whose mother we did not meet until the show, because her nanny brought her to practise every week. It's very understandable then that her mother would want to make the most of her limited time and bring roses to the recital for her daughter. (And honestly, if we'd remembered we would have brought Li'l Bit flowers, because that's the sort of way we like to spoil our kids.) Li'l Bit didn't quite understand the whole concept of Well, I Get To Be With You Everyday And That Is Your Bouquet Of Flowers. She just wanted flowers. Period. Then I tried to get through to her that getting to take ballet and do a recital is a huge treat and something that she should appreciate--even without flowers. Well, eventually she managed to stop whining and pouting, so by the time we got home we could pick some of our roses for her as a gift and not something she had demanded. :) And let me tell you, she loved those roses!!

So, Happy Father's day to all. My poor husband...

Thankfully half of his Father's Day present took place last night. (Massage, shopping, cafe, etc.) He had a wonderful evening and I'm so glad he did. Becaaauuuse, I intended to give him all of today off too. He would have liked to go down to the Danish Pastry House first thing in the morning, but I asked (well, expected) him to stay home till we could take him out to lunch. Then he could go do whatever he wanted till our church came over tonight.

Lo and behold...

I got everyone and everything ready to go. I even woke Ladybug up from her nap. Then, as soon as I was about to say, "Let's load up!" I got a blind spot. I hoped to take my Rx fast and lay down fast, so the spot would go away and the migraine wouldn't be so bad. But as soon as I laid down it started hurting very badly. So, my sweet husband spent the rest of the day taking care of the kids and getting ready for our crew. :( He's a good man though, so he hasn't complained or teased or shown any sign of disappointment.

Oh, and I even forgot to sign his Father's Day card! I thought I had already done it, but when he opened it this morning--blank. Oh, dear.

And my father's card (as well as my father-in-law's) card is sitting on our hutch, all signed and addressed and ready to go. Except we're out of stamps. So Father's Day is a total botch for me...once again.

(Last year, I tried to let B.daddy sleep in and have the day off, but I was 9+ months pregnant and couldn't make it through ten minutes by myself. In tears I crawled into our bed telling him I needed him to get up and take care of the kids. :) Which, of course, he did without complaining.)

No Soliciting: Oh, For the Love of God!

Apparently, upon conception of one's first child, a woman is forthwith stamped on the forehead with the following statement:

Please, please, tell me what to do.

I have no idea what I'm doing;

I do not spend enough time with my children,

loving and disciplining them,

therefore I do not know how to handle this situation.

So, please tell me how to raise my children.

Yes, it is a long statement for a complete stranger to read across my forehead. But surprisingly enough, Boston is filled with speed readers. And they are mostly old and Italian. I have found myself in SO many situations where a total stranger deems it necessary to advise me in my post as mother.

~One woman told me, red wine swishing around in her glass, that when my children come to me fighting and screaming, I should just knock their heads together (literally) and they'll be close forever afterwards. (Yes, in revolt to their wicked mother.) That one gave us a good laugh--a bit of horror.

~While piling my children into the van, a woman bent over with age informed me: "Don't have any more, dear! Please! It's just too hard. You have enough."

~Walking with my two eldest at my side and my youngest in the womb, a hard woman stated, "You must be a glutton for punishment."

~Li'l Bit and I were crossing the parking lot at Stop n' Shop and a lady yells out her window, "Teach her right!"

~A Walmart classic: Ladybug was less than a month old, and sleeping soundly in the Sleepy Wrap. A lady stopped me to make sure my newborn's neck was okay since her head was laying back a bit. I was in no position to take anything in stride or with good humor, so I gave her a brisk, Yes, she's fine, and walked away.

~Again in Walmart, I was correcting Li'l Bit as she was pulling the cart back towards whatever it was she wanted, and an old, gentle man said, "She's only trying to help." I heeded his advice because he was old and gentle and I was being harsh, but she was trying to help me buy her some marshmallows.

~Then yesterday, the guy at the Burger King window said with a chuckle in his throat and knowing look in his eye, "Now, don't drive too fast." What about my Burger King order and minivan made him think I drive too fast?!

As ridiculous as most of these situations were, they got to me. Every time. It would take days to get them out of my system. When actually they are still circulating in my system--I just managed to get them out of my constant thoughts. And it strikes me: I care about what other people think. I know I shouldn't; I've had great phases when I didn't care. But cyclically, I am here again, finding my worth in my appearance and performance.

Motherhood is the perfect time to remedy this problem simply because we are presented with so much unsolicited advice. We are forced to deal with this. I can either dread taking my children in public because I know most eyes are on me; or I can believe that I am who God says I am and perform every mothering duty fearlessly, lovingly as unto the Lord. The only remedy for the hopelessness of pleasing and impressing people, is to believe God, bask in His love, obey Him, love Him.

"That God always gave us light in our doubts when we had no other design but to please Him.

That our sanctification did not depend upon our changing our works, but in doing that for God's sake which we commonly do for our own. That it was lamentable to see how many people mistook the means for the end, addicting themselves to certain works, which they performed very imperfectly, by reason of their human or selfish regards.

That the most excellent method he had found of going to God was that of doing our common business without any view of pleasing men, and (as far we are capable) purely for the love of God."

The Practice of the Presence of God

Brother Lawrence