Today, my little boy turns 3 years old. How do you describe the overflowing, heart-clenching, all encompassing love a mother has for her child? It is beyond the capacity of mere words to describe this kind of love, but I'm going to try.
My son, Jackson, besides my Salvation, is the greatest expression of God's Grace in my life. This little boy has managed to take my life, and make it so much better, so much richer, so much purer than I ever thought possible. He brings laughter, light, challenge, humor, and so much fun into our home, and I am witnessing before my very eyes, this baby becoming a little boy.
Last night, after the fifteenth time or so, of Jackson sneaking out of his bedroom and me threatening some form of punishment or other, (I'll take away your cars, there will be no cartoons tomorrow, etc), he whispered to me from the doorway of the living room, "Mama, can I just have one more kiss and a hug?" Well, how could I possibly refuse. So my little, not so little, big, not so big, boy climbed up into my lap, wrapped himself around me, and promptly fell asleep. Is there anything better?
Three days ago, I took him to his second skating lesson. He is one of the youngest ones, and I waited from behind the glass, had it ever seemed so thick and oppressive, with bated breath and an ache in my chest, as I waited to see if Jackson would have the courage to stand on his skates and push his little blue chair around the ice like the other kids. I waited, I waited, and suddenly, he stood up, and he soared. I nearly burst simultaneously into tears, joyous laughter, and an Irish jig. It wasn't long before he was hollering from the ice, "Mama, I can skate, I can skate!!" Yes baby you can, and I've never been more proud!
But that's my Jackson. He's tenacious, determined, and doesn't give up. He's kind, and sweet, and so loving. He's tender-hearted, and mature beyond his years. I love to watch him play, or listen to him sing, or listen to him gently instruct his baby sister on how to do this or that. I love to watch him read, or learn a new word, or come up with the most mind boggling things-read-we're standing at my Mom's sink brushing our teeth, when Jackson says to me, "Hey Mama, did you know this sink is shaped like a hexagon?" (I look down bewildered, and count up the sides of the sink...sure enough, it is a hexagon...how the heck did he know that?). These little moments of surprise and delight where I think, Oh thank you God, we are doing something right, this boy is so wonderful.
Two weeks or so ago, my Dad and step-mom were babysitting the kids. Jackson had a little fall down and scraped his hand, and to his horror (he's extremely dramatic), he had a very tiny scrape. Well after bouts of, "Oh Nana, my hand, my hand, oh my hand", Nana fixed him up with a little circular band-aide, and all was well. After awhile, the band-aide fell off. Jackson looked down at his hand, and in shock and joy, exclaimed, "Nana, Nana, look at my hand, my owie is gone. Jesus healed me, I'm healed!!" When my step-mom told me this story, I was so thankful, my son, my little boy got it! His child like faith, and what we've taught him about the love of Jesus and all He's done for us had sunk in enough, that Jackson understood what some adults can't. God is Healer-always.
I cannot talk about my son, without talking about Jesus. My love for my son begins with my love for my Saviour. My Jehovah, my Abba, my King, Jehovah Rapha, Jehovah Jirah, Jehovah Salom. The love of God for me is so clearly expressed to me every single time I look at my son. I am so thankful, so blessed beyond measure to have been chosen to bear this child, bring him into the world, and raise him up into a man after God's own heart.
Today, Jackson's 3rd Birthday, will be a joyous, fun-filled day. Never far from my heart though will be a more solemn, sober feeling of the love that I have for him that grounds me, that is like the eye of the storm in my life.
My little Jackson...I love you so much baby bear! Happy Birthday darling!
Love always, and forever, Your Mama,
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
On Running...
Today my sister-in-law, Melissa, and I ran the annual Vancouver SunRun 10K run. What an experience! Just to give some sense of the vastness of this race, it is the second largest 10K race, IN THE WORLD!! I have never in my life been part of such a massive group of people all in the same place at the same time.
The day started very early as I rushed around the house to get my hubby to work, and then myself and the kidlets out the door, and into the van by 6am to go and pick up Auntie Lissie (as we affectionately call her!). We made it in record time down to my Dad's, dropped the babies off, and were back on the road by 6:30. By the time we got to the Sky train, and rode to downtown Vancouver, it was barely 8am. We waited with nervous excitement, and bated breaths until the time that we needed to go and join the huge throngs of people in our "wave".
We heard, more than saw, the first wave of runners start the race at 9am and finally 9:30ish rolled around, and it was time for us to start.
Let me just say how very difficult it is to maneuver amongst so many people. I really had no idea how challenging it would be-and frankly how frustrating.
Now if you know anything about me, you'll know that a competitive spirit is part of my makeup, so for me, just running the race for the sake of fun and running was not going to cut it. My last 10K race, I completed it in 1hour, 1 minute, 11 seconds, so that was my goal; I wanted to beat that time. Unfortunately, it was just so hard to push through the people, and the magnanimous amounts of walking people who WOULD NOT MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, that we finished the race in 1hour, 3 minutes. Not bad, not bad at all!
The cool thing is, I could have kept running, I was sore, but not particularly tired, which I decided was the best result of all. It proved to me that all the working out and training I have done has paid off.
Melissa and I are setting our sights on a Half Marathon on July 24th in Fort Langley. It's a big goal; it's a big jump from 10K to a Half Marathon. It's true, but somewhere along this journey, I have come to love running. I settle into it, and feel so free, so light, so strong.
I have always been athletic, and sports oriented, and this, especially after two babies, has allowed me to reclaim my body in a way that is just mine. And it feels wonderful.
As I near my 30th birthday, YIKES, I feel stronger and more capable physically than I have in a very long time! I feel more capable of mothering my children in excellence, and in being the kind of wife and love to my husband that I've always hoped to be.
This running thing, go ahead ladies, give it whirl. You won't be sorry!
The day started very early as I rushed around the house to get my hubby to work, and then myself and the kidlets out the door, and into the van by 6am to go and pick up Auntie Lissie (as we affectionately call her!). We made it in record time down to my Dad's, dropped the babies off, and were back on the road by 6:30. By the time we got to the Sky train, and rode to downtown Vancouver, it was barely 8am. We waited with nervous excitement, and bated breaths until the time that we needed to go and join the huge throngs of people in our "wave".
We heard, more than saw, the first wave of runners start the race at 9am and finally 9:30ish rolled around, and it was time for us to start.
Let me just say how very difficult it is to maneuver amongst so many people. I really had no idea how challenging it would be-and frankly how frustrating.
Now if you know anything about me, you'll know that a competitive spirit is part of my makeup, so for me, just running the race for the sake of fun and running was not going to cut it. My last 10K race, I completed it in 1hour, 1 minute, 11 seconds, so that was my goal; I wanted to beat that time. Unfortunately, it was just so hard to push through the people, and the magnanimous amounts of walking people who WOULD NOT MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, that we finished the race in 1hour, 3 minutes. Not bad, not bad at all!
The cool thing is, I could have kept running, I was sore, but not particularly tired, which I decided was the best result of all. It proved to me that all the working out and training I have done has paid off.
Melissa and I are setting our sights on a Half Marathon on July 24th in Fort Langley. It's a big goal; it's a big jump from 10K to a Half Marathon. It's true, but somewhere along this journey, I have come to love running. I settle into it, and feel so free, so light, so strong.
I have always been athletic, and sports oriented, and this, especially after two babies, has allowed me to reclaim my body in a way that is just mine. And it feels wonderful.
As I near my 30th birthday, YIKES, I feel stronger and more capable physically than I have in a very long time! I feel more capable of mothering my children in excellence, and in being the kind of wife and love to my husband that I've always hoped to be.
This running thing, go ahead ladies, give it whirl. You won't be sorry!
Friday, April 15, 2011
On Distance...
It's 5 Minute Friday...thank you Lisa-Jo. I love this.
So here we go...On Distance...
For me, distance is the kilometers and hours that must be travelled, spent, to get to home. Home...what an elusive concept. Of course, home is with my husband and our two children. But for me, home also includes those family members who live no where near me-and for whom my heart longs. My mother, grandmother, aunts, uncles, basically my extended family, all live a province away, in beloved Prairies where I was born and raised.
The distance between us is bridged by phone calls, and as many trips as we can afford, but it's never really enough. There is no substitute for your mother, when you need advice, or your grandmother, when you just really want some of her homemade crabapple jellie. There is no substitute for a card game that goes past midnight with all the women of the family, laughing so hard at jokes, and game play, always accompanied by copious amounts of coffee, and someone's baking.
My heart aches, breaks, tears, when I dwell on this distance too much. Would that I could take my little family and move us all back home!
Distance is foe that I have been unable to conquer-I prayerfully seek the strength to endure it!
So here we go...On Distance...
For me, distance is the kilometers and hours that must be travelled, spent, to get to home. Home...what an elusive concept. Of course, home is with my husband and our two children. But for me, home also includes those family members who live no where near me-and for whom my heart longs. My mother, grandmother, aunts, uncles, basically my extended family, all live a province away, in beloved Prairies where I was born and raised.
The distance between us is bridged by phone calls, and as many trips as we can afford, but it's never really enough. There is no substitute for your mother, when you need advice, or your grandmother, when you just really want some of her homemade crabapple jellie. There is no substitute for a card game that goes past midnight with all the women of the family, laughing so hard at jokes, and game play, always accompanied by copious amounts of coffee, and someone's baking.
My heart aches, breaks, tears, when I dwell on this distance too much. Would that I could take my little family and move us all back home!
Distance is foe that I have been unable to conquer-I prayerfully seek the strength to endure it!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
If only I were more...
If only I were more...
If only I were more crafty, I would quilt, knit, and sew all the little things for my children I dream of making them.
If only I were a better cook, I would knock the socks off daily dinners and restore my husband's faith in Sunday roast beef dinner.
If only I weren't such a dreamer, I'd get down to business, stop procrastinating, and spring clean my way to clean, airy closets and clutter free rooms.
If only I would learn to relax, I may just enjoy the ride more.
If only I were stronger, braver, more sweet and gentle, I may just be able to solve the world's problems.
If only I were more...
Here's the thing though, yes, I want to be all these things, I truly, heart and soul, desire to be this "more", and some days I am. But today, right now, I am learning that loving myself right now, the good, the bad, and the ugly is what's most important. I'm learning that nobody is the "perfect" mother, that everyone has off days, and that everyone's children have tantrums-even if they won't admit it. I'm learning that it's okay to make mistakes.
Why? Because my Teacher, my Abba, my Saviour has provided me with the most beautiful space in which to grow, flourish, and become exactly who He created me to be. And right now, that's exactly who I am. I am His child, and that's what's most important.
Maybe someday soon I'll learn how to knit better, and I'll be able to buy that sewing machine I long for, and make a couple of quilts for my babies. Maybe one day I'll be able to cook like my mama. Maybe...
Today, right now, I will focus on this moment, on the fact that I can hear my babies as they fall asleep, that my home is quiet and comforting, that I am well. I am blessed, and there is more to come.
If only I were more crafty, I would quilt, knit, and sew all the little things for my children I dream of making them.
If only I were a better cook, I would knock the socks off daily dinners and restore my husband's faith in Sunday roast beef dinner.
If only I weren't such a dreamer, I'd get down to business, stop procrastinating, and spring clean my way to clean, airy closets and clutter free rooms.
If only I would learn to relax, I may just enjoy the ride more.
If only I were stronger, braver, more sweet and gentle, I may just be able to solve the world's problems.
If only I were more...
Here's the thing though, yes, I want to be all these things, I truly, heart and soul, desire to be this "more", and some days I am. But today, right now, I am learning that loving myself right now, the good, the bad, and the ugly is what's most important. I'm learning that nobody is the "perfect" mother, that everyone has off days, and that everyone's children have tantrums-even if they won't admit it. I'm learning that it's okay to make mistakes.
Why? Because my Teacher, my Abba, my Saviour has provided me with the most beautiful space in which to grow, flourish, and become exactly who He created me to be. And right now, that's exactly who I am. I am His child, and that's what's most important.
Maybe someday soon I'll learn how to knit better, and I'll be able to buy that sewing machine I long for, and make a couple of quilts for my babies. Maybe one day I'll be able to cook like my mama. Maybe...
Today, right now, I will focus on this moment, on the fact that I can hear my babies as they fall asleep, that my home is quiet and comforting, that I am well. I am blessed, and there is more to come.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
If You Met Me...
If you met me...
You'd probably notice my bangs are a little too long, and the headband I'm wearing has a definite smudge of pink paint-compliments of my curious two-year old son's artistic explorations. You'd probably notice I tend to use big words that are often met with either confusion or irritation equally-secretly I love this. You'd notice I talk a lot about my two amazing babies, and their latest exploits, about the newest factoid I've just picked up, and likely I'll throw in a word or two about the book I'm currently reading-probably finishing, even though I just started reading it two days ago. You'll notice my very white skin in accordance with my abhorrence of tanning, or spending two much time in the sun-uncovered. You'll notice I laugh a lot, and loudly, sometimes even a little chaotically. I'll probably be in a hurry-as I tend to relax and enjoy these kind of moments a lot less lately, which I may even tell you. Most of all, you'll probably notice how happy I am to be talking to you, relating with you. I crave these moments, I love them, and when they're over, I miss them. If you met me, I'd hope you'd want to meet again.
You'd probably notice my bangs are a little too long, and the headband I'm wearing has a definite smudge of pink paint-compliments of my curious two-year old son's artistic explorations. You'd probably notice I tend to use big words that are often met with either confusion or irritation equally-secretly I love this. You'd notice I talk a lot about my two amazing babies, and their latest exploits, about the newest factoid I've just picked up, and likely I'll throw in a word or two about the book I'm currently reading-probably finishing, even though I just started reading it two days ago. You'll notice my very white skin in accordance with my abhorrence of tanning, or spending two much time in the sun-uncovered. You'll notice I laugh a lot, and loudly, sometimes even a little chaotically. I'll probably be in a hurry-as I tend to relax and enjoy these kind of moments a lot less lately, which I may even tell you. Most of all, you'll probably notice how happy I am to be talking to you, relating with you. I crave these moments, I love them, and when they're over, I miss them. If you met me, I'd hope you'd want to meet again.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Sing, Sing, Sing...Lessons of Love, Bread Baking, and Happiness
As a begin to write today, I notice that it is 2:56pm, and it's a Tuesday. I have just put two loaves of bread into the oven to bake. The intensely perfect smell of baking bread, sleeping babies, and the hum of my lap top set the scene for me to regale you with my thoughts today.
I hurrah now, for many reasons, but the first thing that pops into my head is that in less than 3 hours, one of my favorite shows will be on TV-Glee. Now love it or hate it, you must admit the show elicits a response from people, and generally its a fairly passionate one. Well, I for one, love it! I know that sometimes the subject matter can be a bit racy and inappropriate, but honestly the sheer talent of the cast, and the songs that they sing bring me such joy that I could really care less what the episode might be about, I just want to hear Leah Michelle sing one more song! Last seasons' episode where Ms. Michelle's character Rachel sang Lady Gaga's "Poker Face", was one I'll never forget, and probably my favorite. Why this love for modern musicales TV comedy/drama? Well, many reasons. First, I grew up watching Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire, Judy Garland, Cyd Cherise, Doris Day, and the like perform and sing the heck out of whatever they were doing. And I loved it, every single second. I dreamed I could dance like Judy, and sing like Doris, and to this day I am teaching my own children songs I learned from those lovely ladies' movies.
I am so thankful to my own Mama and Grandma for exposing me to these rare talents; I believe they had a part in shaping my personality and choices. You see, singing, music, art, is at the very basis-the very spine, of who I am. I am at my most vulnerable, strongest, most beautiful (IMO) when I am singing. I took up acting at a very young age and even, for a time, pursued it as a career. I'll not get too deeply into what led me away from the craft, but needless to say, I miss it dreadfully. I spent my last year of high school attending Langley Fine Arts School, and then moved to Edmonton and the UofA to pursue the study of drama more carefully. When I chose to step away from acting, I left a part of myself behind, that even now I haven't recovered...it's on a stage somewhere performing "Much Ado About Nothing" as Hero, or "Othello" as Desdemona (ah Master Shakespeare, how do I love you, let me count the ways). But, I have always, and I mean always been a singer. I am no professional, let's be clear on that, and I have always shied away from the possibility of commercializing myself. The part of me that is singer is also worshipper and the two are interconnected with no chance of separation. My relationship with the Lord through ups and downs and life, has always been clearest to me, and closest when I am worshipping in song. Not even publicly necessarily. I can be in my car, or alone, or singing with my children, and such a love for my God comes over me.
One of the greatest things I have fostered in my children is a love for music. Now honestly, it has not only been me-my children are incredibly blessed to be surrounded literally, by family who are also wonderfully musical. My brother Philip-and hero to Jackson (and countless others), Rob's Dad (affectionately called Piano-Papa by Jack), my Grandma, my Mom & Dad, the list goes on. Anyone who has the great fortune of spending some time with my children will be entertained by Jackson's medley of "The fever song-Johnny Cash", Jesus Loves Me, Twinkle Twinkle, etc. Jack will often be found simultaneously dancing, playing his guitar and singing, while Gemma accompanies him with claps, head bops to the beat, and chubby baby legs bouncing out the rhythm to her brother's tune. It is great fun, and it fills me with endless joy to know that these babies too have the music bug, and they'll be able to pass it along to their children one day.
I imagine it gives God great joy to look down on his children, my babies, and watch them worship and sing and dance before him. I imagine He claps His beautiful Creator-of-the-universe hands together, and laughs in delight at Jack and Gemma's little performance. I imagine He looks and me and thinks, well done daughter, well done.
I hurrah now, for many reasons, but the first thing that pops into my head is that in less than 3 hours, one of my favorite shows will be on TV-Glee. Now love it or hate it, you must admit the show elicits a response from people, and generally its a fairly passionate one. Well, I for one, love it! I know that sometimes the subject matter can be a bit racy and inappropriate, but honestly the sheer talent of the cast, and the songs that they sing bring me such joy that I could really care less what the episode might be about, I just want to hear Leah Michelle sing one more song! Last seasons' episode where Ms. Michelle's character Rachel sang Lady Gaga's "Poker Face", was one I'll never forget, and probably my favorite. Why this love for modern musicales TV comedy/drama? Well, many reasons. First, I grew up watching Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire, Judy Garland, Cyd Cherise, Doris Day, and the like perform and sing the heck out of whatever they were doing. And I loved it, every single second. I dreamed I could dance like Judy, and sing like Doris, and to this day I am teaching my own children songs I learned from those lovely ladies' movies.
I am so thankful to my own Mama and Grandma for exposing me to these rare talents; I believe they had a part in shaping my personality and choices. You see, singing, music, art, is at the very basis-the very spine, of who I am. I am at my most vulnerable, strongest, most beautiful (IMO) when I am singing. I took up acting at a very young age and even, for a time, pursued it as a career. I'll not get too deeply into what led me away from the craft, but needless to say, I miss it dreadfully. I spent my last year of high school attending Langley Fine Arts School, and then moved to Edmonton and the UofA to pursue the study of drama more carefully. When I chose to step away from acting, I left a part of myself behind, that even now I haven't recovered...it's on a stage somewhere performing "Much Ado About Nothing" as Hero, or "Othello" as Desdemona (ah Master Shakespeare, how do I love you, let me count the ways). But, I have always, and I mean always been a singer. I am no professional, let's be clear on that, and I have always shied away from the possibility of commercializing myself. The part of me that is singer is also worshipper and the two are interconnected with no chance of separation. My relationship with the Lord through ups and downs and life, has always been clearest to me, and closest when I am worshipping in song. Not even publicly necessarily. I can be in my car, or alone, or singing with my children, and such a love for my God comes over me.
One of the greatest things I have fostered in my children is a love for music. Now honestly, it has not only been me-my children are incredibly blessed to be surrounded literally, by family who are also wonderfully musical. My brother Philip-and hero to Jackson (and countless others), Rob's Dad (affectionately called Piano-Papa by Jack), my Grandma, my Mom & Dad, the list goes on. Anyone who has the great fortune of spending some time with my children will be entertained by Jackson's medley of "The fever song-Johnny Cash", Jesus Loves Me, Twinkle Twinkle, etc. Jack will often be found simultaneously dancing, playing his guitar and singing, while Gemma accompanies him with claps, head bops to the beat, and chubby baby legs bouncing out the rhythm to her brother's tune. It is great fun, and it fills me with endless joy to know that these babies too have the music bug, and they'll be able to pass it along to their children one day.
I imagine it gives God great joy to look down on his children, my babies, and watch them worship and sing and dance before him. I imagine He claps His beautiful Creator-of-the-universe hands together, and laughs in delight at Jack and Gemma's little performance. I imagine He looks and me and thinks, well done daughter, well done.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Sunday-A Day of Rest & Other things of Note
Today was a great day. Plain and simple, it started and ended very well indeed. Funnily enough, all could have began rather unhappily were it not for my dear brother and his fortuitous phone call this morning. Let me explain...I am on the worship team at our church, and generally we practice Thursday nights, or meet early Sunday morning before service to prepare for the service ahead. This week, our Thursday practice was cancelled, so as is the norm, we would meet Sunday morning instead for rehearsal. Via text, our wonderful worship team leader let us all know the colors we would be wearing, the song selection, and this mysterious piece of info-that we would be able to sleep in an extra hour this Sunday. Hmmm, an extra hour of sleep, well that's always good, and very nice, thanks! Just to be sure though, I texted back and asked, so like, we arrive at 9:45am then??? Response-LOL yes (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). K, so honestly one might wonder what planet I arrived from, but I had no clue that this Sunday was the day we turn our clocks back. So, this morning, I awake at the early hour of what I thought was 6:30am to the sound of little voices emanating from the monitor letting me know it was time for Mommy to get up too. I pulled myself drudgily out of bed, all the while strategizing how I'd get myself and the kids fed, dressed, washed, etc so that we could arrive at church by 9:45. Next thing, I turn on the TV-side bar...the kids and I have a tradition of Playhouse Disney channel cartoons every morning of the Handy Manny, Mickey Mouse ClubHouse, Strawberry Shortcake variety. So on go the cartoons, and for some reason, the TV says it is 5:30am....I sit there wondering, hmmm, what's wrong with the TV??? Then it occurs to me, could it be, ah yes, I bet we were supposed to turn our clocks back last night. Ha ha ha, that's funny! okay, so I have an extra hour to prepare this morning, and still make it to church by 9:45am...easy as pie! I know, I know, you're thinking, HELLO AIME- wake up chicadee-that was a joke-sure arrive at 9:45am cause that's what it would have been yesterday, but today, you need to arrive at 8:45am! Yep, never occured to me that these two things should have clicked. I remained blissfully unaware of my folly. Until, let the trumpets sound, my ever loving brother who I sometimes swear should have been my twin, cause he must have known he needed to call his ding-a-ling sister and save her from abject horror and embarrasement. I will not relay the contents of our conversation, but let it be said that I was totally mystified that I should have to be at church by 8:45, and he was left wondering at my sanity.
Ah, too funny. Well, crisis averted after all.
Church was wonderful, and I left feeling totally refreshed, and actually came away with answers to prayer over parenting issues that I have been struggling with. Anyone else struggling with potty-training? Well, I am. First, I am terribly uncommited most of the time, which is completely my issue-and probably the biggest factor. Second, my son who is honestly extremely intelligent seems to sometimes not go on the potty on purpose-of course he has accidents, but the majority of the time, when he messes his pants, I am left convinced that he simply did not feel like telling me he had to go, or just plain didn't want to go on the potty. So I have been cleaning shorties, and left with the feeling that I will be changing diapers forever, and I just dont know what to do. Then our Pastor preached a sermon today in which he talked about us being free from the Law, and how the law is fulfilled by love, and we are totally empowered by love and able to do all things through Christ. Well, the bells went off in my head. I realized that by telling my son that only babies wear diapers, or big boys go on the potty-I was placing a mantle of guilt and degredation on him. Instead by telling him that we believe in him, that we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is capable of learning to go on the potty, and that no matter what, our love for him will always be without measure, we would be empowering him to believe that he could actually do this thing that maybe seemed so very dauting or even frightening.
So I tried it out. Jack had done so well today, and then he had an accident, and he told us right away, and in his eyes I could read the sadness, the disappointment, and even a bit of anxiety over the fact that we would be mad at him....and my heart broke. After we cleaned him up, I took him in my arms, and I told him that it was okay that he had an accident. I told him that everybody has accidents. I told him that Daddy and I loved him so so so much, and that we were so proud of him. I told him that I believed in him, that I knew that he could get this thing, that he was absolutely able to learn how to go on his potty. And you know what, that sweet angel of a little boy looked at me with glee, and joy, and love in his eyes and he put his little arms around me and hugged me so hard.
Words cannot express what I felt in that moment...above all things, I felt a deep sense of gratitude to my God, my Daddy, who has believed in me countless times when I have made a mistake. I felt in that moment that maybe I had just had a moment with my son that we would both remember forever, favorably. I felt like a really good mother in that moment.
We spent the rest of our day napping, playing in the park amidst leaves, swings, bikes, strollers, and great imaginings (Mommy would you like a large coffee with two cream and a bottle of water?...Imagine you're a frog crossing great lily pads on a giant pond....)baby girl determined to walk on the cedar chip playground floor even though it was wet and dirty, two beautiful children with rosy red cheeks and noses laughing and playing and totally content.
And now, they sleep, without fuss I might add, and Rob and I relaxing. Does it get better than this?? I don't think so. I am so thankful, so incredibly thankful for my life, my husband and children, and above all, the Grace of God which has given me all this joy overflowing.
I hope you all are well and feeling loved wherever you are. We love you, miss you, and pray for you daily. Until tomorrow and its adventures,
Love Aime
Ah, too funny. Well, crisis averted after all.
Church was wonderful, and I left feeling totally refreshed, and actually came away with answers to prayer over parenting issues that I have been struggling with. Anyone else struggling with potty-training? Well, I am. First, I am terribly uncommited most of the time, which is completely my issue-and probably the biggest factor. Second, my son who is honestly extremely intelligent seems to sometimes not go on the potty on purpose-of course he has accidents, but the majority of the time, when he messes his pants, I am left convinced that he simply did not feel like telling me he had to go, or just plain didn't want to go on the potty. So I have been cleaning shorties, and left with the feeling that I will be changing diapers forever, and I just dont know what to do. Then our Pastor preached a sermon today in which he talked about us being free from the Law, and how the law is fulfilled by love, and we are totally empowered by love and able to do all things through Christ. Well, the bells went off in my head. I realized that by telling my son that only babies wear diapers, or big boys go on the potty-I was placing a mantle of guilt and degredation on him. Instead by telling him that we believe in him, that we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is capable of learning to go on the potty, and that no matter what, our love for him will always be without measure, we would be empowering him to believe that he could actually do this thing that maybe seemed so very dauting or even frightening.
So I tried it out. Jack had done so well today, and then he had an accident, and he told us right away, and in his eyes I could read the sadness, the disappointment, and even a bit of anxiety over the fact that we would be mad at him....and my heart broke. After we cleaned him up, I took him in my arms, and I told him that it was okay that he had an accident. I told him that everybody has accidents. I told him that Daddy and I loved him so so so much, and that we were so proud of him. I told him that I believed in him, that I knew that he could get this thing, that he was absolutely able to learn how to go on his potty. And you know what, that sweet angel of a little boy looked at me with glee, and joy, and love in his eyes and he put his little arms around me and hugged me so hard.
Words cannot express what I felt in that moment...above all things, I felt a deep sense of gratitude to my God, my Daddy, who has believed in me countless times when I have made a mistake. I felt in that moment that maybe I had just had a moment with my son that we would both remember forever, favorably. I felt like a really good mother in that moment.
We spent the rest of our day napping, playing in the park amidst leaves, swings, bikes, strollers, and great imaginings (Mommy would you like a large coffee with two cream and a bottle of water?...Imagine you're a frog crossing great lily pads on a giant pond....)baby girl determined to walk on the cedar chip playground floor even though it was wet and dirty, two beautiful children with rosy red cheeks and noses laughing and playing and totally content.
And now, they sleep, without fuss I might add, and Rob and I relaxing. Does it get better than this?? I don't think so. I am so thankful, so incredibly thankful for my life, my husband and children, and above all, the Grace of God which has given me all this joy overflowing.
I hope you all are well and feeling loved wherever you are. We love you, miss you, and pray for you daily. Until tomorrow and its adventures,
Love Aime
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