The Swings

A couple of these pictures were taken on the broken swing set at our vacation rental, but the rest were captured at a nearby playground. 

I love how children naturally delight in the simplest of things. What a gift!

"How do you like to go up in a swing, up in the air so blue?"

~Robert Louis Stevenson

Somewhere Between Purgatory and My Great Expectations

What do you get when you cross a 33 -weeks-pregnant-mother-of-8 with a not-what-you-envisioned vacation rental?

A place somewhere between Purgatory and the Land of Great Expectations.

That's where I spent the last week. The exact location is irrelevant, though it was in the beautiful state of CO. My vacation experience, like everything, was a matter of the heart.

So excited to plan our first family vacation in over five years, I didn't consider those pictures of the rental might not be the most accurate or up to date. And who wants to rein in the visions of luxury and relaxation when you just know you've found the perfect place for your family of 10 to stay? (That's a feat in and of itself. Did you know some renters don't like children? Or at least not more than 2?)

But visions are dangerous. I don't just mean the, "God came to me and told me to do such-and-such...". I mean most visions of something we've yet to experience.  Either we'll imagine things way worse than will ever be and have wasted time worrying, OR we'll create a perfect adventure in our heads that only leaves us disappointed. Rarely will our visions be like Baby Bear's porridge, just right.

My vision did include at least three of the things a woman wants when she stays somewhere. A clean refrigerator. A clean bed. A clean bathroom. And if that woman is pregnant, the desire for those things is amplified a few thousand times.

Our vacation rental had almost 1 out of three, and the clean fridge and clean bed weren't it. I have pictures of the messy, cob-web infested garage that greeted us, the dirty comforter and sheets and pillowcases in the master bedroom (think blood stain and body or dog hairs with a bit of baby spit-up thrown in, too), the neglected crumbs and stains in the fridge, and other tell-tale signs that screamed, "You missed me when you thought you were cleaning!"

And somehow the pictures on the web didn't show a house right next door, within spitting distance, or the fact that the river was blocked by houses across the way. And oh, the description didn't mention the swing set was partially  broken and the bike tires were flat and there might be trash and dog poop in the yard, too.

Not only was my blood pressure up, so was the temperature in that house. How could I forget to make sure there was air-conditioning? 77 degrees downstairs and 82 up. Anyone who's been around a pregnant woman knows her body reads those numbers as 90 and 100.

This is how I ended up crying in a McDonald's parking lot that first night as we served up fine cuisine to our children after driving the almost 50 miles back to a Wal-Mart to find a clean pillow and pillowcases. Yes, I know you might have just washed those nasty ones and been done, but I just couldn't. That might have been way too rational.

To top it all off, my sin nature tagged along, reminding me that God had exceeded my baseline for adversity and enough was enough. After all, the week before we left we had to deal with Ink's getting pneumonia, a costly computer problem, a new crack in the car windshield, a refrigerator disaster, and the basic stress of packing up a family of 10 for vacation. My sin nature was a stubborn companion, and it was only by God's grace that she finally shut up and didn't convince me to infect everyone else with my murmurings and misery.

Because while I was seeing all the above, the dirt, the broken things, my dashed expectations, our children were seeing a lovely walk to the river, the first family vacation most can remember, the swing and slide that weren't broken, the first family vacation most can remember, the table big enough to seat all of us, the first family vacation most can remember, and other blessings. 


God was using them and their laughter and smiles and contentment to teach me this, even though they didn't know it:

When we are mature, we are able to make careful, rational comparisons between today's hardships and tomorrow's promises. As we do this, we see not that the scales will balance or that we will come out a little to the good. Instead, that sober comparison ends with a childlike fit of the giggles as we see the overflowing abundance of the grace promised to us."
~R.C. Sproul, Jr.

I had visions of vacation bliss, but God had plans for heart surgery. His knife work was more important than my nap time. His work included the reminder that we can take a break from many things, but battling our sinful hearts isn't one of them. His purging was a reminder that He never rests from making us more like Christ. What great love is this!

So perhaps it's more accurate to say that when you cross a 33-weeks-pregnant- mama-of-8 with her unmet expectations AND toss in God's lovingly used pruning knife, you land most perfectly in the Land of Grace. In the Land of Sanctification. In the place where He never ceases to make us more like Jesus.

With love,
Trisha

A Little R&R

I'll be away from this space for the next week trying to do a bit of what they're doing in the picture above. I'm not sure I can look as cute doing it, but I'll give it a try. Much love to you all!

Love,
Trisha

Buttermilk Oven-Baked Pancakes

These are so easy that if you never make pancakes for your family, you truly have no excuse now. :) Yum! Yum! Yum!

Buttermilk Oven-Baked Pancakes

1-1/2 c. all purpose flour
2 T. sugar
1 t. baking soda
1 t. baking powder
1/4 t. salt
1 egg, beaten
1-1/2 c. buttermilk
3 T. oil
cinnamon-sugar to taste

Mix together flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. In a separate bowl combine egg, buttermilk, and oil; add to dry ingredients. Stir until just mixed, but lightly lumpy. Spread batter evenly in a greased and floured (use Baker's Joy!) 15x10 jelly-roll pan. Sprinkle with cinnamon-sugar to taste. Bake at 350 degrees for 16-18 minutes, until top springs back when lightly touched and edges are lightly golden. Cut into squares and serve with butter and maple syrup. 4-6 servings.
~Gooseberry Patch

**I doubled the recipe and baked it in Pampered Chef bar pans, one large and one small. Yes, lightly lumpy, but be sure to break up clumps of baking powder and soda.

With love,
Trisha

When Younger Moms are the New Titus 2 Women

***Please note that I listed my reasons in no particular order. Also, please don't gloss over this part of the post: This isn't an older mom vs. younger mom post. This isn't a post advising you to disregard the wisdom of the younger mom. It is a reminder to remember the wisdom of the older women in your lives.

                                                                  ******
Many of the moms offering parenting instruction, both in print or in the blogosphere, are younger moms. They haven't been mothers for more than a few years, many not having one child who is even 10, but they dispense, to a very attentive audience, advice about motherhood in the trenches and "grace-filled" mothering. It's an interesting dynamic, especially in light of the scriptural exhortation for the older women to instruct the younger women in being keepers at home and loving their husbands and children.

So where are the older moms, and why have the younger ones often displaced them as voices of authority? Here are a few possibilities:

1) Older moms aren't able to communicate to younger ones what they themselves have abandoned. Perhaps they don't know what to tell the mom who has a misbehaving 2 year old or wants to leave her husband because they themselves delegated childrearing to someone else and decided marriage just wasn't for them. They can't really remember what they did as mothers and keepers at home because they never behaved as mothers or keepers at home.

They might even despise the role of a Titus 2 woman by embracing a "Now it's my turn to do what I want to do since I've done my duty," mentality, wanting to live like a care-free 20 year old instead of a wise, mentoring Titus 2 woman.

2) Older moms are often ignored. When I read some of the parenting advice from the younger mothers, much of it is what the older mothers are saying or have said, but the packaging isn't as eye or ear-catching. They don't have a large church promoting them or a fancy website. Maybe they penned their books years ago, and as with many things, that advice gets dusty on the shelves while we search for the newest offerings. We want to hear from the most hotly-promoted young mommy instead of the Titus 2 woman who sits right next to us in church. The old paths are right before us, but there's part of us that believes the newer paths might offer something a bit better.

3) Younger moms want to hear from someone who potty-trained their toddler yesterday, not 15 years ago. We're an independent-minded, anti-authority generation who has abandoned what those before us believe about church and faith, so it naturally follows we question if older moms really know what it's like to parent today. There's an underlying arrogance and belief that older mothers just won't and can't understand.

4) We eat up almost any advice that has "grace" attached to it. We're a generation that is grace-infatuated instead of grace-transformed. Grace has sometimes become a marketing ploy for today's parenting books, instead of the comforting truth it should be. Just because Elisabeth Elliot's parenting wisdom isn't smothered in "grace-ese" doesn't mean it isn't timeless and applicable to mothers today. It's easier to speak of grace as a young mom who's asking a three-year old to forgive her for her impatience than it is as an older mom who's feeling a bit lost as she navigates the teen years and wonders where she went wrong. There's a depth of grace that can be plumbed only as we've mothered for many years. 

5) Older moms are often silent because they don't have perfect families,  believing this disqualifies them from sharing their wisdom. Because I have older teenagers and toddlers, I've been given the opportunity of seeing my mistakes and praying I won't repeat them. Yet, many mothers of one or two children don't have that privilege. Truly, it's a humbling thing to say, "I would have done this differently,"  or even, "I focused completely on the wrong things," and yet, we can all learn from each other's mistakes and the hindsight that is 20/20. 

6) Older moms know better the value of time: They can easily tell you what they wasted time on in the early years of their parenting, and they're preciously guarding what little time they have left with children at home. They've learned the investment in the lives of others means focusing on the younger women immediately in their lives instead of those in the blogosphere or other social networking sites.

7) Older moms are sandwiched between generations. They might still be caring for a 6 year old while taking care of an elderly parent. They're simply exhausted from meeting the various demands and can't imagine writing a book to share how they've done it all. Maybe all they can muster is to tell the new Mom at church what a blessed gift it is from the LORD to give up your life for another.

8) Younger moms crave the new and earth-shattering and "gettin' real."

They're weary of hearing "Enjoy these years. They'll pass by soon," or "Rely on God's grace, remembering to give Him the glory for every good thing." They want to hear startling confessions of mothers who don't enjoy mothering, mothers who are breaking free of the bonds and expectations of being a keeper at home. There's a rebel in all of us, and young mothers are especially vulnerable to wanting to simply be "understood" instead of instructed.

9) Older moms know there's a price to pay, and you truly can't do it all. 

Younger moms are often too short-sighted to see that that their commitment to disciple other mothers while they still have Littles under foot might come at a price.   When you write a book or give much attention to a blog that gets lots of traffic and exposure, there are costs. Something else won't get done. Sadly, many, though not all, younger mothers who are busy dispensing parenting wisdom should be busier being the godly moms they're called to be. 

None of us can peek into a mother's home and really know how she's balancing it all, but it should make us pause when we consider how we tell moms they can't work outside the home AND really be there for their children, but we don't think twice about the young mother author or blogger who invests many hours writing and promoting herself and her parenting wisdom. 

10) Older moms are often second-guessing themselves. Instead of considering the things they did right, they often dismiss everything they did. I've talked to older moms like this, and it's very discouraging. Their mothering history is just a string of regrets, though you're seeing something different as you're looking at their imperfect but God-fearing children. What young mother wants to hear this? "Ok, so no matter what I do, I'll wish I had done something else."

11) We've put off our child-bearing until the last minute possible. A family member recently expressed her disgust with friends who were getting married and having babies. "They're only 24!" Having babies, she declared, was for when you were in your thirties. It's not uncommon for many women to have their first child in their late thirties or early forties. I recently rejoiced over hearing the news that a sister in Christ, just married at 18, is already pregnant with her first child. When she is 38, she'll obviously be able to counsel another mother her own age who is just now starting a family. 

Am I saying that young mothers shouldn't be dispensing parenting advice? No! Are there exceptions to all of these reasons I've listed. Of course! Moms, young and old, have much to learn from each other, and God certainly has gifted some younger moms with the wisdom of those who have been mothering for 40 years. This isn't an older mom vs. younger mom post. This isn't a post advising you to disregard the wisdom of the younger mom. It is a reminder to remember the wisdom of the older women in your lives.

There is a reason Scripture exhorts the older women to teach the younger and we need to pay attention to it. We need to guard against promoting younger moms and marketing them as the Titus 2 women they truly aren't, yet. We need to guard against tempting them to take away, especially in the name of  "grace-filled-who-you-are-in-Christ" parenting, from the little hearts that need them so much.

As a younger mom, be teachable. Look for those older moms who have gone before you, whether you're reading their books or listening to them share with you at church. Learn from them, both their successes and their mistakes. 

As an older mom, share what you know, including your mistakes,  and be encouragers of the younger. Don't trade the precious opportunity to mentor younger moms for empty pursuits. Don't discount Scripture's instruction to teach the younger moms. What a privilege!

In another post, I'll share the names of some of my favorite Titus 2 women.

With love,

Trisha

32

"An architect draws his plans and makes out his specifications; even so did the great Maker of our frame write down all our members in the book of His purposes...when as yet there were none of our members in existence, all those members were before the eye of God in the sketch-book of His foreknowledge and predestination."
~C.H. Spurgeon

The Doctrine of Grace and Moral Laxity

Those who suppose that the doctrine of God's grace tends to encourage moral laxity ('"final salvation is certain anyway, no matter what we do; therefore our conduct doesn't matter") are simply showing that, in the most literal sense, they do not know what they are talking about. For love awakens love in return; and love, once awakened, desires to give pleasure; and the revealed will of God is that those who have received grace should hence-forth give themselves to "good works" (Ephesians 2:10, Titus 2:11 f.); and gratitude will move any man who has truly received grace to do as God requires, and daily cry out thus--

Oh! to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be;
Let that grace now, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee!
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it;
Prone to leave the God I love--
Take my heart, oh, take and seal it,
Seal it from Thy courts above!

~J.I. Packer, Knowing God

Can A Pregnant Woman Do That?

Elisabeth, 5, asks, after running out with all the younger children to see if it was true that I was painting the house:
"Can you do that with a baby in your tummy?"
(this painting stint was a brief and isolated incident)

Claire, 3, asks, "What are you doing?"
Me: "Whackin' a fly!"
Claire: "What?!" "Can a pregnant Mama whack a fly?"

Hear me roar! I'm woman with child who killed a mouse with my bare foot. Of course I can paint and whack a fly, probably at the same time, too. :)

What We've Been Doing the Past Month

She Gave Up Some of the Best Years of Her Life

A homeschool Mom, having been abandoned by her husband, shared how her oldest daughter came to the rescue in the painful aftermath of going through a divorce. This older daughter helped school the younger ones while the Mom looked for a way to support the family. She made dinners and washed clothes and met whatever needs were waiting to be met.

Flash forward a few years later and the Mom shares how she feels she "owes" the daughter so much. The Mom felt sorry for the daughter, having to stay home at night and read stories to little ones while her friends were out having fun. After all, "she gave up some of the best years of her life" to pitch in and help her family.

And that phrase struck me. How often do we hear others, mostly women, describing how they themselves gave "the best years of their lives" to someone or some life circumstance? My question is, can we, believing in God's sovereign care over us and the wisdom of His providence, ever truly say this, when the "giving up" refers to loving others not just in word but in deed? And what are we teaching our daughters about serving and dying to self when we, even subconsciously, encourage this point of view?

There used to be an honor about helping one's family, whether taking care of a sick parent or working an extra job to help pay the bills. But, we've transitioned so far from that point of view, instead encouraging our children to ignore family circumstances and follow their dreams, dreams which are often simply our own  presenting themselves again to a younger version of us some years later. We didn't follow those dreams the first time, and we sure aren't going to have our children miss out.

We speak from both sides of our mouths, extolling the virtues of staying home and caring for our husbands and children and bearing one another's burdens, yet, secretly wanting something "more" for our daughters. We say "Amen" to the truth that we make our plans but God directs our steps, while we bulldoze ahead with blinders on lest anything or any need distract us from our agenda.

Picture two girls. Both have family situations that require their help, be it an aging relative or a financial crisis or anything else in between. The one goes off to college, earns her degree, and begins working. Her family has to hire outside care or simply do without or rely on other friends to assist them.

The second postpones her plans (or might find that she gives them up completely) and instead spends her days fixing meals and driving to doctor's appointments or earning extra income. She builds muscles by lifting the weaker up or changing sheets for the 5th time that day or teaching Littles their catechism or reading them stories.

Would any of us dare ask this of our daughters? Do we not view the latter girl as wasting her days? Do we not feel sorry for her, pondering that she has so much "potential" and should be hanging out at the coffee shops with girlfriends and listening to lectures on a college campus?

How do we give up the best years of our lives if we're meeting the needs God has set before us, whether we're young ladies or older women? How can dying to self and laying down our lives for others ever be a waste of time or giftings or potential? Why do we assume God doesn't have something else waiting for us if we've had to surrender our plans in order to love one another as He's called us to?

While the Mom I mentioned earlier surely needed to express gratitude to her daughter and praise her for honoring God in those difficult days, she didn't need to feel guilty or think she had robbed her daughter of "the best days." God doesn't design our life circumstances so we can fulfill our dreams and live for ourselves. Instead, He fashions our days to make us more like Christ, and what did Christ tell us but that He came not to be served, but to serve, and give His life for us. He calls us to do the same, and for some of us, the burden may be a bit heavier and more costly, but it will never be a waste of time or our lives.

With love,
Trisha

I'm Trisha, and I Have Musophobia

Hi. My name is Trisha, and musophobia is my shadow.

Ask me to change extreme diapers or clean up middle-of-the-night vomitus, and I'll boldly go where few men dare. Put me under the knife to bring forth life or burn my skin to rid me of cancer, and I'll push through the fear.

But let a mouse scurry across my path or eat the food in my pantry or leave its cursed droppings in my linen closet, and I will lose control. Absolute control.

Perhaps this phobia started when I was just a child, staying at a family member's home in the summer. Our late nights were full of french fries and card games...and hopping from chair to couch to keep those pesky rodents from getting too close. This was the price of country living. The mice thought they were part of the family.

Then, we bought our home in the desert and the cruel reality of home invasion surfaced. I remember arriving to a dark house one night, ready to clean and prep it for move-in, and seeing my first evidence of the utter boldness of these creatures. They had eaten a hole almost clean through the potato chip bag on the counter and left me droppings along the way. I was disgusted.

In our years of living in this house, I've encountered mouse babies in my linen closet (and had to call the neighbor boy over to dispose of them because Ink and Little Big Man were so little and my Beloved was out of town), dead mice in a Beanie Baby container, a renegade pantry mouse that eluded us for a LONG time, and other rodent nightmares. I even remember calling an exterminator and having him tell me mice were well known for crawling over people's faces at night while they were sleeping (yep, he really wanted our business).

Yes, I know cats are great mousers, but we live in the desert, and a cat outside has the life expectancy of about 12 hours. We love our friendly Bull Snakes, but unless we imprison one under our house, their success rate is hit and miss. Steel wool, poison, traps...we've tried it all, and though poison ranks high in my book, no remedy has been permanent. Thankfully God gives us occasional reprieves during which we won't spy a mouse for months.

This last rodent-relief session ended the other night while Cap'n and I were watching something on the computer. Have you ever had that sensation when you haven't seen something directly move before your eyes, but your eyes saw something nonetheless? Not only did I indirectly see movement, but the wrapping paper roll next to me moved. Cap'n and I were out of that chair in a millisecond, landing on the bed for refuge. I was screaming for Jake, our second oldest, and before you know it, all three men are in the room looking to confirm my claim that a mouse was in the house.

"But, did you SEE it?" was the question. "Well....no, I didn't see it, but I know something was there." Uh-huh.

I didn't hear another peep from my supposed nemesis, nor were there any sightings that night. The trap was ignored, and there weren't any late night sounds of invasion. (You know...you're lying in bed and hear the scurrying over in the corner or the scratching, and you just know they're having a good time with your stuff.) I thought perhaps my musophobia had morphed into paranoia. I was relieved to think I was crazy.

Fast forward to the next day, the MIDDLE of the day, and I'm talking to my Mom on the phone. I'm de-cluttering here and there and moving about MY house with confidence and ease, as any good homemaker should have the freedom to do. And then IT happens. The IT that, only by God's mercy, did not put me into labor.

I stepped, barefoot, on a mouse.

Oh me. Oh my. It was the grossest furry sensation I've ever felt.  I ran, screaming all the way, to the other room, hanging up the phone and leaping on the couch. There was not trace of a quiet and gentle spirit in me. Poor Jake, who was outside on a ladder, had to keep himself from falling, so startling was my scream.

Everyone rushed inside and gathered around the creature in the kitchen. They told me it was still alive, but that I had crushed its head with my foot. They said there was blood. I'm still having a hard time believing their story. After all, there was no blood on my foot, and when I looked down, that Madness-Inducer appeared to already be dead.

The Littles stared in wonder as I wept on the couch at the horror of it all, my three year old offering me the truth of, "But, Mommy, God made that mouse." At dinner, I was given the name "Mouse Killer" and my precious family shared scenarios from Mouseland-Down-Under in which those creatures are trembling at the thought of the pregnant lady's foot that looms above them. My three year old continues to tell me how she'll kill mice with her bare feet when she's a Mommy.

Delightful.

It's been said "in acceptance lies peace." That's just not stickin' with me right now. In acceptance of my morbid fear of mice, I still have a morbid fear of mice. In acceptance of God's providence, I ponder the thought that He placed that mouse at that time under my foot, my BARE foot. Joel Osteen would declare that's a picture of God telling me I can have victory over my fear of mice if I just believe hard enough.

For now, I'll just pray for reprieves, keep a good supply of traps and poison on hand, and work on re-directing my three-year-old's mothering aspirations. And if you ever hear me scream, well, you can pretty well guess why.

With love,
Trisha

Sweet Seven

Seven Things We LOVE About Ella...

1) Her love of reading and delight in sharing passages from her reading.

2) Her faithfulness in reading from her Bible or Bible Storybook each morning.

3) Her eagerness to chime in the reasons we have to thank the LORD.

4) Her helpful spirit and consistent, "I'd be happy to" and "Thank you for this wonderful dinner, Mommy."

5) Her love of babies and younger siblings.

6) Her creative mind and creative play.

7) Her big, big, happy, happy smile.

She requested our yummy homemade sausage pizzas for her birthday dinner, and for the birthday breakfast, we tried sour cream pancakes. These cooked up beautifully, and if you like tang in your pancake, you'd love these.

Ella's birthday wish list was simple. Paper dolls. Packs of gum. A stroller. Oh, books, of course, too. :)

Ella requested a puppy dog cake from our baker friend, and it was perfectly lovely when we brought it home.

Then, a cute little man in the house climbed up on large bucket of flour and decided to experiment with cause and effect. Just what would happen if he pushed down really hard on the plastic cover. Oh, yes! Some of the icing would come off of the cake. Ella was a super-great sport, though. It's hard to get too mad at Cap'n.

 Well, it's hard to get mad at Cap'n, but it isn't hard to get annoyed when he blows out some of your candles. :)

We love you, Ella, and praise God for choosing us to be your family! What joy you have brought us these past seven years! May the love you have for His people and His Word grow stronger each year. May you walk faithfully in His ways all the days of your life, and may your life reflect the love of Christ in all you do and think and say.

Mama, Have You Forgotten What Season It Is?

I often think of myself as a Mommy-in-the-Middle. Yes, I'm in the middle of lots of stuff, like laughter and chaos, but I'm also the mother of children ranging in ages from 17-2, with a baby on the way. I'm a mother in the middle of several different parenting stages.

I can relate to the Mom who's navigating those unpredictable waters of adolescence, holding on tight during the turbulent days of puberty, watching with wonder the little ones' discoveries, battling self-control during toddler temper tantrums, or smiling as she hears her baby master an endless number of new words a day.

I know, simultaneously, what it is to wrestle with anxiety about your oldest ones' futures, wondering if you honored the LORD with the time you had, while fighting to be steady in training the younger ones to form good habits and obey consistently. I listen to Mumford and Sons and movie soundtracks while hearing Judy Rogers' songs and Patch the Pirate lyrics in my head.

I walk alongside the Mama who's watching her almost-grown children frame their own lives, as well as the Mama who's joyfully buying onesies for her new baby. I weep with the Mama who looks back on years of parenting and sees the grace God poured out on all of her days, while I share the secret worries of the newer Mama who wonders if there's enough grace for this day.

Sometimes the crossing over of these many phases of childhood stretches me thin, but most days its my own unrealistic expectations that weaken me.

While searching Pinterest I came across some wonderful activities for the Littles. I remembered how creative I used to be with the older ones and how detailed their early homeschooling lessons were. But that many years ago, I was the mother of two, not eight. I had less laundry, fewer dishes, less planning, fewer interruptions. It was a different stage of God's plan for my mothering. Yet, Guilt and Discontent started knocking and asking questions, and I found it hard to ignore them.

"Look what a better job you did with your older children. Why aren't you doing those same things now? Your younger ones are being deprived. Your older ones are being deprived. Maybe you've gotten lazy? What you're doing is not enough."

Ecclesiastes tells us there's a time for everything, but I often forget such wisdom includes what I do as a mother. There is a season, for all mothers, when the most reading you'll do will be from books by Mother Goose or Beatrix Potter. There is a season when you'll not tackle new projects but simply maintain order of what you have. There is a season when you'll splurge on a family vacation and a season when you'll squeak by just paying the bills. There's a season when you'll spend most of your time in correction and discipline, and a season in which you delight in the fruit of the Spirit manifested in your children.

And for some of us Mamas, our seasons overlap, and yet, they're still a season in itself.  No matter how much I long to be the same mother for my younger ones that my older ones had, I can't make that happen. It's impossible to create the same childhood for every child. I can't mother like my friends who only have little ones and spend hours on creative learning and crafts, and I can't mother like my friends who only have older children and read books at lightning speed or have more time for hobbies or volunteer work. I can only mother like a mother who has eight children of varying ages with the circumstances and resources God has set before me. Do I believe His provision is enough?

This is the kind of mothering all mothers should be doing, mothering that's mindful of the season God has gifted us. The temptation is to confuse the seasons. When our children are little, we're pursuing things that are best done when they're older. When they're older, we're holding on to what we didn't do when they were little. (Those of us who have younger and older have to fight even harder to balance it all well and make sure we're not neglecting what is needful for the older ones AND the little ones.)

We exhaust ourselves with expectations that were meant for a season we're no longer in or for a season that hasn't yet arrived. We lose sight of God's providence because we're scrambling to duplicate, as a large family, what a small family has, or as a small family, what a large family does. We sacrifice eternal bounty for keeping up with Mama Jones, whether the keeping up is the number of books we daily read aloud or the material goods or educational opportunities we provide.

And yes, it comes down to contentment. Contentment grows as we embrace the God-ordained boundaries that are fixed to the seasons of our mothering. Contentment flourishes when we focus on His purposes for our days instead of trying to combine a life's worth of seasons into right here right now. Contentment keeps our eyes set on His faithfulness instead of our accomplishments.

Learn from other mothers in different seasons. Make notes of what you want to do when those seasons come. But rest firmly in the truth that God does give us seasons as mothers, and when we walk contentedly in His design for our days, we honor Him well in our mothering, leaving Guilt and Discontent with nothing to say.

With love,
Trisha

Sometimes You Just Want to Be Alone

Especially when chocolate animal cookies are on the line and you have seven siblings.

**Older brother found Cap'n hiding in this closet with the goods, so he helped him to a bit of higher ground to make sure the stash would be safe.

Quick to Gasp, Swift to Ooh, and Eager to Aah

Clairesy and Cap'n in awe of the rain coming down.

Because cameras are everywhere and computer animation is able to create ever more outlandish worlds, we say with  Solomon, "there is nothing new under the sun" (Ecclesiastes 1:9). Seemingly, everything we could see, everything that could surprise, is already behind us. Unfortunately, this cynical attitude also infects our reading of Scripture. We no longer express wonder at the God who has brought the universe into existence or split seas in two. We've heard those things before--and they no longer inspire our awe.

That's not the case with children. They are built for wonder. They are fresh. Their eyes are new. They have not only not seen everything; they have seen virtually nothing at all. Better still, they know how little they are. We look at the stars God made and calls by name (Psalm 147:4) and see balls of burning gases. Our children, uninfected with such modern arrogance, see them for what they are--God's grand fireworks display--and their eyes are filled with appreciation and wonder. We adults look at a butterfly and ponder the biology of its transformation from a caterpillar and consider the mechanics of its flight. Children see the beauty of a butterfly's colors and feel the gravity-defying lightness of its gosamer wings. Children are quick to gasp, swift to ooh, and eager to aah. They see the world for what it is--a dance, not a machine.
~R.C. Sproul, Jr.
The Call to Wonder

Justin Bieber and The Gag Reflex

Justin Bieber card: $4.99

Having to buy the card in public: Great embarrassment and efforts to restrain from vomiting

Jake's face when he opened the card and heard Bieber singing: PRICELESS

Truly, this was a gag gift in every sense of the word.

***This was part of Jake's 15th birthday Scavenger Hunt. Rest of the adventure to follow later.

Pin This on Me, Too, When I'm Gone

Miss Ella, our fifth child, turned 7 last week, and her birthday usually includes my telling a story. The story is about the two of us, but the focus is Him.

I recall how sick I was while pregnant with Ella. My Crohn's was fighting full force in my body, and I was ravaged with inflamed red sores all over my legs, joint swelling, pain that wouldn't respond to medication, and torturous sleepless nights. I gained a mere 8 lbs., and she weighed six and a half of that.

After Ella was born, things got even worse. I had to use a cane to walk. I lost even more weight (truly, I thought I had cancer), and the joint pain only increased. I wondered if I'd ever walk normally again or know the joy of chasing one of my children around the room.

But God restored me. I remember with such clarity the first time I RAN around our house. I felt more victorious than a gold-medal winner.

Lest you think when I'm sharing God's goodness, when I'm actively remembering, misty-eyed, that all the children are still with wonder and awe, think again. But my telling the stories, recounting the wondrous works of God, isn't dependent on attention spans. I trust God will, in His own way, bring these events to mind and fill their hearts with adoration of Him and His mercies.

My job is to be faithful.

All of our lives are a tapestry of His wondrous works. Do our children know them? Do we even remember them?

Speak of them as naturally as you speak of what you're going to do that day. Remind your children it is sin to forget, and as it did for the Israelites, forgetting  breeds ingratitude and a whole host of other sins.

Don't be discouraged by their lack of appreciation for His works. This will come with time. Consider your stories to be tiny seeds being planted in their hearts that will one day flourish, reminding our children that the LORD God is their God, and His mighty deeds abound in the pages of their lives. By God's grace, they too, will faithfully speak of His wondrous works to their children, and so on and so on.

Edward Payson, the father of Elizabeth Prentiss, who wrote Stepping Heavenward, died four days before his daughter's 9th birthday. At the funeral, pinned to his jacket, per his instructions, were the powerful words:

Remember the words which I spake unto you while I was yet present with you. **


He had the same exhortation engraved on his coffin.

If we died today, what legacy of words would we leave behind for our children? Do they know the Scriptures? The glorious truth of the gospel? Would they quickly recall accounts of His provision and goodness and mercy? Would they have a history of Ebenezers to pass on to their children? Would they be rich in their remembering or desperate amnesiacs?

This Mama knows very well what it is to just get through the basics of the day. But speaking of His mighty works isn't another burden to add to our parenting to-do lists. It is what flows from hearts that are under the influence of His grace, hearts that remember where they would be if they weren't redeemed, hearts that love and know His Word and cling to the faithfulness He displays in Holy Writ and in our daily living.

Remember the words which I spake unto you while I was yet present with you.
His Words.
His mighty works.

Yes, by God's grace, pin this on me, too, when I'm gone.

With love,
Trisha

**coming from Luke 24:44