What Breaks a Mom's Heart

She climbs onto me, her hot little fever-racked body on my warm feverish self. "Hold me, mommy!" She situates herself right on top of me, sleeping on me as if I am her bed. "I am going to fall off, mommy!" she says, as if there is anything I can do to fix this. But I situate a little this and that, my eyes aching and lungs burning. I am sick, sicker than I have been in years. But I am a mom, which means that even in sickness, my body is not my own, and my little one, sick as well, needs her mommy. So we lay there, mommy holding baby, and we fitfully sleep, whispering for mercy. I whisper that I love her too, that she is my sweet girl, and that she is beautiful. Because, you can never hear that enough.

I learned years ago that as a mom, my body is not my own. After four children and five pregnancies, my body has been stretched and is marked from the months I held these children on the inside, and now on the outside, I hold them.

As a baby, my first daughter needed me so much. It was something I had to learn as a new mom, and was not very good at doing. I had gone from working full time, to being home full time. We had moved over a thirty hours drive from all those I loved, and this little person needed me to live. She needed me to feed her. Nursing became the bane to my existence. I hated every minute of it. For three months I suffered through, feeling anger growing each time my daughter cried - needing me, needing me to hold her, to feed her. I could not do it. I was resenting her. I was failing at my job and her cries only reminded me. For her sake and mine, we quit nursing, went to formula, and got on a schedule. It worked for us.

Motherhood takes learning.

My second came along, and she wreaked havoc on me. She would only nurse, never would stop, and at 9 months, weighing a mere 24 pounds, and not sleeping more than two hours at a time, my doctor and hers said it was time she learned to wait. She had, in the process of growing inside of me, somehow moved an artery over my kidney, and my kidney was no longer functioning properly. The doctors say otherwise, that is was genetic, but I know she had something to do with it. I had major surgery, and my body was marked again and weakened for months.

Motherhood takes sacrifice.

My third pregnancy came, and my body was used to it. Within weeks I could feel it changing in the way a mother's body does when it is ready to grow and carry a child. Within a couple of weeks, we learned that child was in heaven. My body ached for this child.

Motherhood takes heartbreak.

My fourth pregnancy and fifth brought healthy strong babies, full of life and joy. And with each, somehow I found the way to love them. With all their needs for hugs and kisses on boo boos, I found a way to make myself grow. My body is not my own. My lap is needed for holding; my hands are needed for praying; my face is needed for squeezing the way two-year-olds do to make you look "oh so pretty."

Motherhood takes everything.

It takes a lot, but it gives so much more. It gives joy and growth and patience and laughter. I have learned and loved more than I ever thought my heart would hold.

And this little girl, lying on top of me, making me her bed so she knows I will not leave her, makes me think of children who do not have someone to hold them. It makes me ask, How are they okay? I do not think they are. I am pretty certain that my children's well-being depends on this, that they actually do NEED me to hold them. And there are so many children who do  not have that simple thing. Forget food; forget money or shelter. There are children that just need someone to hold them; someone to kiss their cheeks and tickle their toes; someone to whisper in their ear that they are treasured and loved. OH, it is what breaks my heart! And it is what makes me lie completely still, even in sickness, as my little sick girl adjusts herself on top of me. I hold her and whisper those words. And my heart breaks over and over again.

New Years Resolutions

I usually make resolutions. I do it probably weekly rather than annually. I resolve to eat healthier, pray more, read my Bible more, be nicer to my husband, be more gracious with my children. These are not good goals. These are not measurable or even attainable because there will always be "more" and "nicer" and "more gracious." I set the goals and I frequently fall back to old habits. Occasionally my lifestyle does change for weeks, months, even years at a time before life catches up and I fall into the lazy way of life that does not meet these goals and leaves me wanting to be better.

This year we decided to talk to our kids about New Year's resolutions. We made some as a family. My five-year-old resolved that he wants to learn to read and swim. My seven-year-old wants to become a better reader and swimmer. (Can we see a theme here?) My two-year-old did not set any goals, but I have some for her. First and foremost, she should start sleeping in her bed through the entire night. (I do not know if this has happened more than three times in her ENTIRE life.) It may be too high of a goal, but it is one I am going to really encourage her to work on. My ten-year-old had some goals that I can't remember, except one - praying more. This little girl is so self-disciplined, if she sets her mind to it, she most likely will follow through. And so far she has. The past two days, she got her Bible and notebook and sat down with her dad to do her prayers. She told me today she is reading a chapter in Matthew each day and then praying three prayers with her Dad. I sometimes really wish I could be more like her!

They say kids are more prone to do what you do, not what you say or even what you do with them. I do not know who "they" is, but the idea is if you want kids to read, read; if you want kids to run, run; if you want kids to watch TV, watch TV, and so on. I had been talking with my husband a few weeks ago about my fear that when my children grow up and are asked to remember their mom, they will say, "When I think of mom, I think of Facebook and Pinterest." And they would probably be right. My husband always thinks of his mom doing laundry, endless loads of laundry. I am sure my children will not say that when they think of me. Laundry will not be the thing. What do I want them to think of when they think of me? "She was the best mom; she always had time to listen and never lost her temper; she spent time with us, ran a lot, read a lot, and spent time with God." That is the mom I am going for.

So, I asked the question, What do you think of when you think of mom, kids?

"Running, reading, and cooking."

"Running, reading, and eating"

"Running, reading, and sleeping."

Well, I have two consistent themes, running and reading. So, I bravely shared my resolution to spend time each day reading my Bible and praying. This used to be normal for me. I took pride in my ability, even in college, to get up at 5 a.m. and read my Bible, pray, and go for a three mile run. A day rarely went by that I did not do it. But then life started to happen, and four kids later, my time of quiet is rare, and I unfortunately do not make it a priority. When I have quiet, I check Facebook and Pinterest.

So, it is day two of January. Day one went by without a moment of Bible reading or prayer for me. I will give myself a little grace; I was sick as I have been in years. But today I woke up feeling a bit more human, so at rest time, I sat down with my Bible and read and prayed.

Later in the afternoon, my ten-year-old said, "Did you do your Bible reading today Mom? I noticed your Bible was out."

She is watching what I do. They all are.

"Though she be but little, she is fierce."

A few weeks ago, I saw a quote from A Midsummer Night's Dream, "Though she be but little, she is fierce." I want to frame it an put it over her bed. I want to know how to help her harness her fierce to use it to fight fights worth fighting. It means I have some fights to fight as well.

The other night she finally slept in her crib. The past week she had been coughing so much I always gave in and let her sleep with us. But two nights ago, the coughing had subsided and she did not want to go to bed, which was a good sign she was feeling better. I put her in her crib and sat down with my knitting to wait. This is our new approach, she screams, we sit next to her letting her know we are there, but she has to stay in bed. It has taken on a bad night close to two hours of screaming, on a good night, usually half an hour. This night, after about twenty minutes of screaming, it was quiet. I decided to wait five minutes, to ensure my leaving would not wake her. After one minute I heard her little voice. "Mommy, I am all done crying. You can leave now." I had won this fight, she had made her point. I left, and she slept.

Today started with a close to one hour time out. My husband woke up, showered, got ready and went to work all in the hour this was lasting. It started that I had the wrong cereal. I gave her the two options which resulted in a shaking screaming response, apparently she wanted a different option. I told her she can not scream at me, and she ended up in time out. She screamed for her two minutes and finally agreed to let her dad get one of the cereals for her. He was frantically trying to help me get breakfast served while getting ready for work. She grabbed the bowl, maneuvered herself behind me and then proceeded to throw the cereal across the kitchen, angry at we have no idea what. But in all her two year old defiance when asked to clean up she crossed her arms and screamed "NO!" And for the next almost hour, she sat in time out, every chance she had at ending it (every two minutes) when asked if she wanted to help clean up now and get out, she crossed her little arms and screamed, "NO!" I worked on cleaning up breakfast and made some coffee. She kept screaming. I checked email and facebook, the screaming continued. Finally through a  wet, tear streaked face and gasps for air, tired from all the screaming, her two more  minutes was up, and she nodded yes. She slowly helped me clean up her mess then climbed into my lap and just sat, both of us exhausted from a fight.

This fight I am willing to have over and over because it is more than a fight about being a right. It is a fight to teach her to obey, to listen, that there are rules to follow.  It is a fight for her little heart. This parenting thing is so difficult, but so worth it, especially when you see a little fruit from the fight.

David is 5!!!

5 years ago my world changed when a little boy named David Maccabeus Jacobs, affectionately known by those who love him as David "Macaroni and Cheese"Jacobs, came into this world. I was already the mom of two girls, and was excited and nervous about how a boy would change our pink little world. It changed with all sorts of colors and noise, of legos and balls, of "Avengers" and "Spiderman" and it has been wonderful! He looks out for others and his heart breaks when he hurts someone. He is full of big hopes and dreams of flying one day(not airplanes, but super hero flying) and playing football. He learned to walk by kicking a soccer ball across the room. He loves to cuddle. He loves to run.

There is nothing I do not think this boy can do if he puts his mind to it. He has taught himself gymnastics in hopes that his parents will put him in class, and he is really, really good. If there was a headstand contest for five-year-olds, I think he would win! He has been known to wait at the bathroom door on his head, we get used to just seeing this boy upside down. He is determined to be an artist like his dad and spends hours working on pictures that are good, not just for a kid good, but really good. He decided to try to ride his bike this summer without training wheels and told me if he fell he was never doing it again. He did it, he did not fall, he rode and rode. One day he did fall, and without a tear he brushed off and got back on that bike and rode some more, it is his favorite thing to do! This boy is all heart and determination.

He could not be loved more by his sisters, in particular his little sister who adores him. He puts his arm around her when she needs comforting, and is often the one in the family that can convince her to eat. The other day at church he shared his cake with her, one bite for him, one bite for her, back and forth until it was gone. There were quite a few ladies at church that oohed and aahed over him. He is all boy and all sweet.

I have always said that he gives me the best glimpse of what true "joy" looks like here on earth, joy overflows from every inch of his person, it is contagious.

I have not ever met anyone like this little man and could not be more proud to be his mom.

Five Minute Friday... Quiet

Five Minute Fridays is when you get a word from over at Lisa Jo Baker's blog and write on it for five minutes, WITHOUT editing then link up and ABSOLUTELY have to have to comment on the post before yours!
Today's word is: Quiet
Start

It is a treasure and gift. When everyone is asleep, the quiet is a gift. A gift when my day is full of good noise and busyness at the end, to hear nothing but sweet rest. Rest that is well deserved for children who have played hard and worked hard. And a mom who has hopefully done similar is finally able to have quiet rest. I used to fill my head with noise for fear of what I might hear. But now with all the noise of life, I treasure the quiet moments. I peek on each of my children and see their sweet faces resting and quiet. Faces that are usually full of laughter and words, resting, restoring. That is what quiet does, it allows us to rest and restore. It allows me to sort through all the noise in my head and hear clearly again.

I love the quiet of a morning run, dark before the world has started to breathe, with children at home still tucked in beds. I run with someone usually, but sometimes it is a quiet run. Where we are just  next to each other breathing, running, but listening to the quiet and stillness of life before it starts breathing for the day. Quiet is a gift, a treasure, one I will take whenever I am blessed with it!

Stop

Asking Why?

"Feeling so blessed, our house sold and they accepted our offer on the new house." It is not the exact Facebook update I read, but it goes something like that. And I want to celebrate with a friend, I am thankful for God's provision. But I struggle with the understanding of why.

We prayed for months, asked for God to be in the details. He remained quiet. And I ask questions.

Why has our house still not sold after months on the market? We have only had about four people look at it!
Why do you work so hard and barely are able to pay the bills?
Why is life sometimes such a struggle and sometimes people seem to be so blessed?

I start to question myself, my motives, my heart. Is there sin in need of confessing? Is that other person better than me? I know this is where grace comes in and mercy and sovereignty. But I want to scream and yell WHY?

I know in this world I am considered blessed, but sometimes, I feel sorry for myself and get angry that it does not seem fair. Why does it work out perfectly for some and others never seem to get a break.

I do not know, I do not have answers, but there are somethings I do know..

The Lord is good, his faithfulness endures,
Psalm 100:5 "For the Lord is good and his faithfulness endures forever; His faithfulness continues through all generations."

Waiting on the Lord is okay,
Isaiah 40:31 "But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar with wings like eagles; They will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."

He is glorified even in my weakness,
2 Corinthians 12:9, "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."

God's timing is perfect
Ecclesiastes 8:6, "For there is a proper time and procedure for every matter, though a person may be weighed down by misery."

God's word is full of promises
Hebrews 13:5, "Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, 'Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.'"

Psalm 27:14, "Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord."

I know that His ways are higher.
Isaiah 55:9, "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than you ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.

So I am working on selflessly celebrating because God is good and when He blesses my friends I want to rejoice because God IS SO good. And I will hold to the promises knowing that God is working.

And I will continue to count my blessings...
80. running on a cool fall afternoon
81. friends that come over for an impromptu dinner
82. soup and cornbread that warms inside when the air is cool outside
83. a warm home
84. that our house is full of art and literature
85. writing ideas finally onto paper
86. a dishwasher
87. an extra hour of sleep
88. children that can read clocks so I might actually get that extra hour of sleep
89. watching my children play together like they are actually friends.

Five Minute Fridays... "Roots"

Five Minute Fridays is when you get a word from over at Lisa Jo Baker's and write on it for five minutes, WITHOUT editing, then link up and ABSOLUTELY have to have to comment on the post before yours!
Today's word is, "Root"

Start

My mind immediately goes to all the wiry tendrils reaching into the ground. The ones that I try desperately to pull up when I am actually working on weeding my garden. Why is it that the roots of weeds seem so much more set in the ground than those of my delicate flowers? Weeds and established trees, those are my greatest barriers when trying to clean up my garden. Trees are okay except they do not belong in my garden.

And I cannot help but draw some parallel between my garden and my heart, where sin has rooted its way in. Somehow the wiry tendrils of sin have wrapped themselves so tightly around my heart that is seems they might be impossible to pull out, or if I do, maybe it will rip my heart out with them. I am holding so tight to the things that I think are making my life so great. And the tree is so established, not necessarily sin, but has made itself at home that I have grown comfortable I have not had room to plant flowers or even the thought to.

There is no room then for the roots of delicate flowers that are just starting. Somehow those take longer to settle in and wrap around my heart. Maybe if I spent more time growing them they would be set firmer, I am not sure, but in the mean time...

the ugly wiry roots I am working on pulling out.

Stop