Inspiring

A message from my five year old.

I think she was going to write her name, which is Bella.
(Actually, it’s Isabella, but she will be the first to tell you to call her Bella.)
But, I don’t think she finished her work.
And so the message of the day is plain and simple:
Be.
I like it.
Mostly, as we work on mastering ourselves.
Sometimes when we get discouraged, we can remember this message.
We can just Be.
Sometimes being is enough.
Being is a great blessing from God.

Happy Mother’s Day

My friend Wendy doesn’t have a blog. I know, I need to whip out my blogging charm on her. I sit here at 7 am on a Saturday, unable to sleep. I have been sick and up since 5. Wendy sent this e-mail to me and it made me cry, and cough harder, and get more stuffed up. I thought that this e-mail went perfectly with my recent Mothering 101 post.

Happy Mother’s Day.
MOTHERS and MOMS

This is for the mothers who have sat upall night with sick toddlers in their arms,wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayerwieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying,’It’s okay honey, Mommy’s here.’

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on endsoothing crying babies who can’t be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up atwork with spit-up in their hair and milk stainson their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools andmake cookies and sew Halloween costumes.And all the mothers who DON’T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they’ll never see. And the motherswho took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless artcollections are hanging on their refrigerator doors. And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games insteadof watching from the warmth of their cars. And that when their kids asked, ‘Did you see me,mom?’ they could say, ‘Of course, I wouldn’t havemissed it for the world,’ and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who wanted to, but just couldn’t find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read ‘Goodnight, Moon’ twice a night for a year. And then read it again, ‘Just one more time.’

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls ‘Mom?’ in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home — or even away at college — or have their own families.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids thinking they’d be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can’t find the words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting. For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, andsew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it in her heart?

Is it the ache she feels when she watches her son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?

The jolt that takes her from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to pu ther hand on the back of a sleeping baby? The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M.when she just wants to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in her home?

Or the need to flee from wherever she is and hug her child when she hears news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation… And for mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and married mothers. Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. For all of us… Hang in there. In the end we can only do the best we can. Tell them every day that we love them. And pray and never stop being a mother…Please pass along to all the mothers in your life.

Free Hugs

I found a new blogging friend….Mindi at wordtoyourmother. (And those of you who are prudish – you know who you are – consider yourself warned – she is more liberal than you)

Here is the youtube video of the year that she just posted. I love it…it touched my heart. I am normally not a huggy person, but I may have been converted. Powerful stuff here.

P.S. Mindi, I didn’t just give you this shout out because of your Omgirl post. Believe it or not, I read hers after I posted this one. It’s a weird weird blogging world…we are all a bunch of sheep!

Rear View Mirror

While on the road to pick up Sophia from school today, I noticed that Bella has picked up my love for rock and roll. It is hard to tell from the video, but she is a head boppin’ fool. (I have to apologize to my mother in law here who hates it when I drive and operate anything other than the car at the same time) Bella’s rock out session was much better before she realized that I was trying to catch her in the act. I resorted to videoing her through the rear view window so she would act naturally. I think that she still kind of knew what I was doing because she isn’t half as zealous as before in this video. When I got done and put my camera in my purse Bella said, “Mommy are you going to put me on your blog?” She didn’t want me to, but I hope she’ll forgive me someday. She is kind of blog shy.

I am always happy when I can catch something entertaining while driving in my car. Have you noticed my new K-town label. K-town is label for the things I see around Knoxville; it’s amazing the things you notice from your car when looking for blog photos. (usually while driving in the car – because you all know that I am in my car a good two hours every day) So, I was trying to figure out how I was going to come up with an excuse to post this cute blurb of Bella. I don’t want this to my “kid” blog. I don’t like reading other people’s blog when all they blog about is their children. (I do like to read about their children, just not ALL the time)

Sheila, my new blogging friend, just gave me the best excuse ever, to post my rear view mirror catch. WOW! I only had to wait three hourse to find a good reason to justify posting about my children again. Anyway, read Sheila’s post with a rear view mirror analogy. I loved it. It is good advice for all of us who need to learn to let go of our mistakes.

Be happy with help.

I am a huge advocate for mental health. Most people that read my blog may not know this, but I was diagnosed as Bi-Polar Type II about 4 years ago. I am very lucky to have a mild case that is manageable. They call me “high functioning” even though on some days I wonder why.

I just wanted to post a link to J.K. Rowling’s words to people who may be suffering with depression. When speaking of her own desire to take her own life, she encourages others to “go and get help”. I cannot tell you how important this is. So many people just resign themselves to the misery when with a little professional help they can be very happy.

Don’t you think JK Rowling is one happy lady? I am happy most of the time. People! You can be happy! So, get help, if you need it.

The Sacrament That Spoke To Me
This may be the only Easter post that I find the time for this year.
I have just been so swamped.
I guess I am really playing catch up for blogging way too much for the past month or so.
Tonight, while deciding which post to do first,
I decided to start with the one that meant the most to me.
I hope that is o.k. with the rest of you.

On this Easter Sunday, as I took the Sacrament at church, I was reminded of a special experience I had a while back. This experience deepened my love for my Savior, Jesus Christ, and I hope it will do the same for the rest of you, even if you’re not a mother.

It was one of those moments in life; it was so minuscule, and especially so if compared to the vast eternities. Without the presence of the Holy Spirit it was a moment that could never be recalled. I was a new mother desperate for some quiet time in my life. I desired nothing more than a period of 5 minutes where I could just be close to God. This Sunday, during the Sacrament, I wanted my participation in the Lord’s Supper to find meaning again. For months, if not years, it had just seemed to be a jumble of trying to quiet my three small daughters. I needed to feel closer to my Savior, so that I could somehow find the strength to overcome my own weaknesses, particularly my impatience with my young children.

So, I sat with my children and tried my hardest to focus on Jesus Christ and all that He means to me. During the Sacrament prayer, I listened intently and as the words were uttered, “that they always do remember Him, that they may have His Spirit to be with them”, I was somehow filled with the Spirit. On that day, I succeeded at finding God’s realm. Reflecting back, I realize that nothing feels better than feeling the Spirit of the Lord. Nothing. In God’s realm, everything is peaceful, everything is right, and everything is love.

I prayed a fervent prayer that I would always remember Him, and that I could even do so during the week to come, especially when I was the least patient. I thought of my daily challenges and how sometimes it seemed as if a spilled glass of milk could just make me want to run away from home. Oh yes, my challenges were constant; there was the absence of my law student husband, the money that was always stretched to the limit, the never-ending needs of the children, the piles upon piles of laundry, and the mess made by a child and cleaned by their mom, only to be followed by another one which always seemed more extensive. How could I always remember Him?

With the presence of the Spirit, the physical messes somehow turned into the spiritual messes. In this minuscule moment, I felt that Christ was mending my spiritually broken heart. He was fixing the messes that I had in my heart. The Spirit whispered that it wasn’t about my children and their messes, it was about me and my mess. I wasn’t taking the time to realize who these children really were: they were God’s daughters and I was the mother privileged enough to clean up after them for a time. The wisdom was imparted: when I learned to be a mother with a cheerful heart, I would find the patience and the quiet that I desperately needed in my life. If I would mother with God’s wisdom I could be blessed with the Spirit always.

I prayed. What was God’s wisdom that I needed? I sat and I listened to the still small voice. The little noises from around me started gaining a volume in my ears. But instead of being annoyed by the noise I was being blessed with some reminders. Each child’s cry echoing from chapel was suddenly not annoying at all. Jesus Christ became even more sacred to me and loved by me as I remembered that he loved each of these children. God’s wisdom was that He loved them just as He loved me.

And then when the moment was almost over, I was blessed with a very special last reminder. I heard something that I had never noticed before. It was the sound of sacrament cups being dropped into the trays. Every plunk seemed to get louder and louder, and every other noise from the room became more and more faint. I closed my eyes to listen more intently. Those plunks seemed to be so frequent. It was as if I could hear them resonating from around the world, and throughout time. I could not contain the emotion, the tears began to flow. Jesus Christ suffered the infinite atonement for all of these people. And, I was just one of the fortunate. He died for me so that I could be forgiven as I participated in the sacrament for my impatience and whatever else I wanted to change in my life. I was a mother who wanted to be better. And, Jesus Christ would bless me with my pure desire. Jesus Christ loved us all, children and adults, and somehow that fact would give me the patience I needed.