Mom to Mom

What Do You Wish He Knew?

2010-02-02T14:03:00.003-06:00

Good news, girlfriends: It’s not January anymore. But the bad news? It’s February.

February in Wisconsin is generally not a big improvement over January in Wisconsin. This is true, apparently, across the country. I’ve been hearing about snow and ice and Mom to Mom “snow/ice days” in some of the most unlikely places.

There is, however, some good news about February. I’ve always preferred February to January. For one thing, it’s the month of Valentine’s Day. I really like Valentine’s Day. And it’s beautiful here today: light fairy-flake snow is falling gently in our yard and transforming the ordinary into something exquisitely beautiful.

Also—much bigger news—this year it is also the due-date-month for our fifth grandchild. He’s not due till February 16, but today marks the beginning of the two-weeks-before-due-date window, so who knows? I could be going to New Hampshire any day now to hang out with Soren and help Bjorn and Abby with their precious new little boy. Can’t wait!

Here’s some other news about February. Woody and I are preparing to teach a seminar at a big men’s conference this Saturday (“No Regrets” at Elmbrook Church here in Brookfield) on “Keeping the Romance Alive in Marriage.” Why is that good news? Two reasons: First, we have to practice what we’re getting ready to preach. :) And second, I love doing things like this together with Woody.

But, here’s where you come in—note the title of this blog. I need your help. Being one of the only women scheduled to be in the building with thousands of men, I want to represent all of us well. And I want to give these husbands some help in understanding what “keeping romance alive” in marriage looks like from the wife’s point of view.

So, here’s my question: What would you like your husband to know about your perspective in keeping romance alive in your marriage? What would you like him to say? Or do? Or not say or do? If this feels too personal, feel free to generalize: What would you like men to know about a woman’s perspective on what romance and passion look like in a marriage?

The conference is only a few days away, so rapid response would be appreciated. And even if you don’t get a chance to respond, I’m thinking this might be a good question for you to ponder anyway—and perhaps discuss with your husband. It could be good preparation for Valentine’s Day.

Speaking of which, Woody plans to do a little experiment with these men as an opener. First, he’s going to ask them: “How many of you know what tomorrow is?” (Note to any women who haven’t heard: Sunday, February 7, is Superbowl Sunday.) Guess how many hands will go up?! Then he plans to ask them: “How many of you know what one week from tomorrow is?” Now girls, you all know what that is.

I wonder what that show of hands will look like...

Stay tuned. And thanks ahead of time for any help you can give me.

A GREAT Bible Story Book--for Them and You!

2010-01-29T11:41:00.002-06:00

You know how I love books. Maybe you don’t know how I love children’s books. I could get lost in the children’s section at Barnes and Noble for hours on end. Maybe it goes back to my lifelong love of stories. Or my Reading Specialist background. But now I have grandchildren, so I have a great excuse to disappear for hours into children’s stories.

But here’s a book that is absolutely wonderful for both kids and parents (and grandparents). And if you don’t have kids at home or grandchildren, borrow a neighbor kid or niece or nephew and read it to them. Or, do what I do when no grandchildren are around and just sit on the couch and read it all by yourself! Preferably out loud, because the writing is so beautiful.

It’s a Bible story book, which makes it even better: The Jesus Storybook Bible, written by Sally Lloyd-Jones, a best-selling children’s author. And you can tell she is the best kind of children’s author, because the writing is captivating for both children and adults.

The stories sing. They are very creatively told in language kids understand. Some of them are actually funny. The author obviously has a sense of humor—and so, I believe, does our God, author of THE STORY. And they have engaging titles like “The Scary Sleepover” (Daniel in the Lions’ Den), “The Man Who didn’t Have Any Friends[None]” (Zaccheus), and “Operation No More Tears” (Isaiah).

Best of all, the underlying theology is sound. The author attends Dr. Timothy Keller’s church (Redeemer Presbyterian) in New York City. I know this because she gives him credit right at the beginning. I wasn’t at all surprised to learn this because the grace-filled Gospel he preaches informs every page of the book. (BTW, look for his name to surface in more book recommendations to come—I’m currently reading two Tim Keller books.)

The theme of the entire book is captured in the title--The Jesus Storybook Bible--and in the subtitle: Every Story Whispers His Name. The Bible is shown to be the story of God’s Great Rescue plan in sending Jesus. The drama is all about God’s  “Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love,” as Jones often reiterates. It reminds me of Philip Yancey’s profound observation: “…the Bible from Genesis 3 to Revelation 22 tells the story of a God reckless with desire to get His family back.” (The Jesus I Never Knew, p. 268)

What better time to begin telling that story than when our kids are young? I read somewhere that this book is recommended for children ages 4-7, but I’d give it a far broader range. My 3-year-old grandson is mesmerized by it, my son uses it with high school kids in Young Life, and parents tell me they love reading it with their kids. Grandparents, you’ll love it as well!

It makes a great gift. I wish I could give it to every woman in Mom to Mom. I’d love to see them all reading it with their children—and giving Dad a turn, too! It’s such a compelling way to introduce the great themes of God’s Word. I did give it to two neighbor families for Christmas—a start.

It’s available pretty much everywhere—online or in bookstores. Treat yourself to the “Deluxe Version” which comes with the complete book on audio CD’s, and you’ll love it even more. The stories are read by British actor David Suchet (“Hercule Poirot” in the Agatha Christie mysteries on PBS). You really need to hear him as the voice of the serpent in the Garden, Daniel’s conniving friends—and the voice of God at creation! When we first got the CD’s, Woody and I found ourselves fighting over who got to have them in which car!

And oh, how could I forget the illustrations? Recently Bjorn and Abby were telling me how Soren (he’s 3) sat on his dad’s lap during a meeting they were holding at their house and paged through nearly the entire Jesus Storybook by himself. This made me go back and look at the illustrations (by Jago, an award-winning illustrator) and realize anew how compelling they are.

I know I’m kind of over-the-top in this recommendation. I warned you how obsessed I am with stories…

BTW, just in case any of you are wondering (as I was) if the author is related to the great preacher/commentator Dr. Martin Lloyd-Jones, I googled her and found out—to my surprise—that she is not. But I think she should be!
 

January: Not Quite So Bad After All?

2010-01-18T12:34:00.000-06:00

January.

What is it about January? Such a hard month. The party’s over. Christmas is a memory. The family has left. After 3 wonderful weeks of glorious chaos in our home, with various families (our kids and grandkids) coming and going, the house is eerily empty. And quiet. Very very quiet. Way too quiet, if you ask me.

And it’s cold.

Really really cold. January is not Wisconsin’s best month. Probably not the best month in most states, even without this year’s record-breaking cold.

And then there’s the news this month. Oh, the heartbreaking stories and images out of Haiti. We all weep with our brothers and sisters there. We all (I hope) pray for them and for all the relief workers pouring in. And we all (I surely hope) give what we can to forward relief efforts in this bleeding, broken country.

But amidst all this, I’m discovering January’s not all bad, either. Here’s my very random list of things that make January not-quite-so-bad-after-all.

January is a good month for:

Memories. How I savor the memories of having everyone home this year for Christmas. Even Lars—YAY HURRAY! I loved have the house chock-a-block full of pack’n plays, high chairs, wall-to-wall toys, and kids singing and dancing (and yes, even fighting, if you can imagine my grandchildren not always being perfect sharers!) I cherish the memories. And thank God!
Restoring order. As much as I hate putting away Christmas stuff, there is something satisfying to this first-born half-German recovering perfectionist in getting the house put back together again.
Throwing things away. Some things it feels good to throw away—like stale Christmas cookies we didn’t quite finish. A few (very few) less calories consumed—and added to my hips?
Working out. It’s good to get back to the gym. Crucial, in fact. Fast walking has a way of re-ordering my thought life.
Music. I find music so restorative. I love the music of Christmas! But as I put away my Christmas CD’s, the old favorites come back. And, thanks to my kids, I have great music on my iPod to listen to when I work out. I especially love listening to music Lars told me encouraged him during the long months in Afghanistan. Hey, if it works in Afghanistan, surely it can work in Wisconsin!
Buying warm slippers. Somehow my house seems colder since the kids and grandkids left. But I just went out and bought warmer slippers. TWO pairs—they were practically giving them away in the January sales.
January sales. The slippers just reminded me. Another good thing about January. It does feel good, doesn’t it, to get 70% off now and then?
Reconnecting with my husband. Now it’s just him and me. The kids are gone, I’m not traveling this month, and it’s just him and me. A good thing, actually, as I have a really great husband. I realized recently that I haven’t written much about Woody in this blog. More to come in 2010…
Listening to God. Wow! Linda? Listening? That’s not a thing easily done. But I find I’m learning to do it better in my quiet house. It will be so interesting to discover HIS plans for 2010 instead of rushing ahead to make my own.
Being reminded that God goes before. 2010 seems like such a blank slate, in a way. Of course my calendar’s not totally blank. But there’s something about a new year that makes me both nervous and excited. I loved being reminded in Streams in the Desert on January 14 that “…God is out in front. He is in our tomorrows, and it is tomorrow that fills people with fear. Yet God is already there. All the tomorrows of our life have to pass through Him before they can get to us.”

Having said all this, I’m still not a huge fan of January. But I’m discovering it’s not quite so bad after all.

He’s Home!

2009-12-19T08:46:00.000-06:00

Rejoice with us: Our son is home from Afghanistan! On December 10, Lars arrived home to the eager arms of his beautiful and beloved wife and children in North Carolina. And as Bengt told me excitedly, “When I saw Daddy, I ran and ran and hugged him so hard I knocked him over!”

I feel as if I could do the same thing when I see him. He’s home! He’s Home! He’s home! It’s almost a constant chant at the back of my mind every day.

And tomorrow, Lars and family will be arriving here—at our home in Wisconsin! Woody and I are so excited we are like two little kids. Our whole family will be together for Christmas! Lars, Kelly, Bengt, and Hannah come tomorrow, followed in the next few days by Bjorn, Abby, and Soren from New Hampshire, and then Erika, Richie, and Gabriella from Ireland. We are grateful beyond words.

I woke up with a singing heart. And then I cried. Because there’s something else going on today. Yes, we are making final preparations for the much anticipated arrivals—big food shopping to do, baby equipment to be borrowed, and toys to be gathered from the corners of the house where they’ve been tucked away since our grandchildren’s last visit.

But today, December 19, is also the two-year anniversary of my mom’s Homegoing. Two years ago today, in Ft. Myers, Florida, with my brother and me and her sister and husband at her side, Mom went to be with Jesus. She was 84 years old. I was hugely blessed to have such a wonderful mom all these years. But still, I wasn’t ready to let her go. I knew I had to. I knew she would be better off with Jesus than in her hospice room, lovely as it was. But still, I didn’t want to let her go.

And now, two years later, I miss her every day.

I lay in bed this morning thinking of all the mixed emotions of this day—the anticipation, the joy and gratitude, the sheer happiness; yet the deep down sadness I still feel as well. And suddenly I realized something. That continual mantra at the back of my mind (“He’s home, He’s home, He’s home”) has multiple meanings for me this Christmas.

At this time of year we celebrate the coming of One who came and made his home with us for a little while. But this was not His Real Home. He died and rose again and returned to His Real Home that it might also become our Real Home. So because He’s home, my mom is, too.

Time now to go and get ready. My heart is singing! He’s home! HE’S home! And she’s home, too—along with my dad and Woody’s parents and so many many others we love. Good reason to celebrate, don’t you think?

Merry Christmas!

Waiting, Preparing, and Lighting Candles Wherever You Are

2009-12-04T11:58:00.004-06:00

“Light your candles quietly, such candles as you possess, wherever you are.”

These words were written from a small cell in a Nazi prison camp by Alfred Delp, a Jesuit priest who would shortly thereafter be hanged as a traitor for his opposition to Hitler. I recently came across this quote in a book of Advent readings and I asked myself: If Alfred Delp could write about “The Shaking Reality of Advent” in such a time from such a place, what about us, this December 2009, here in America?

I feel very pensive about Advent this year. I think it is partially because Advent is a season of waiting, of preparation, and of lighting of candles. It is a time when we prepare to celebrate The Arrival. The Arrival of a baby whose birth changed everything. Absolutely everything. Everywhere. Forever. Even in a Nazi prison cell. Or in Afghanistan. Or Iraq. Or an economic downturn in the USA. A Very Big Arrival.

On a smaller scale in our house, even as we prepare to celebrate that Very Big Arrival, we are also awaiting and preparing for a very different kind of arrival—the arrival of our son Lars home to his family in North Carolina sometime very soon—by December 10, we hope. And then his arrival with his family, as well as the arrival of Bjorn and Erika and their families, to celebrate Christmas with us here in Brookfield. We are counting down the days. We are getting ready to celebrate!

But I am also thinking, as we prepare to rejoice in Lars’ homecoming and the celebration of Christmas in our home, of the many troops who will celebrate Christmas away from their families. And the many families who will be missing a son or daughter, husband or wife, sibling or parent around their tables this year.

And I’m thinking of the stories I’ve heard just this week from people for whom this Advent—this Christmas—seems hard and dark and uncertain. A marriage is on the rocks. A job has just vanished. Finances are tighter than ever. A battle is raging, despite the best professional help available, with anxiety and depression and fear.

The world can be a very dark place indeed. But is that any reason not to light the candles of Advent? Oh, no. I think it may be all the more reason to light the candles. To be reminded of the Light that shone down from heaven on that Bethlehem night so long ago. The Light which shines down into our hearts as we open them to Him. That “true light, who gives light to everyone…” (John 1:9)

Dietrich Bonhoeffer once compared Advent to a prison cell “in which one waits and hopes and does various nonessential things…but is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside.” And that is the story of Christmas: God opened the door! He gave. He came. He comes.

If that isn’t reason to light the candles, I don’t know what is.

Thank YOU!

2009-11-25T22:46:00.004-06:00

This week I have been thinking about people I am thankful for. There’s a very long list!

But here’s what I just this morning realized: The list is even longer than I had thought since it includes—you! What I mean is that it includes hundreds of moms that I get to meet when I travel and speak. Some tell me that they read this blog (thank you!).

And here’s what happens when I travel and meet moms: I am so inspired by your stories. I am absolutely blown away by your commitment, creativity, and courage. I see it in your eyes when you talk about your families. I hear it in your voices when you share your stories. I feel it in your body language when you bring your children to meet me.

Whether you are sharing your stories about being a single parent, about your husband’s repeated deployments, about your long struggle with cancer, about the joys and challenges of parenting your beautiful little girl with Downs syndrome—or just the day-to-dayness of being a mom, I see something in you that I admire beyond words.

It causes me to give thanks—to God and for you.

I just got back from a super-fun Texas road trip. And the stories linger…and they blend with stories from the last six months or so of travel. There are way too many to share right now. Especially since this is Thanksgiving week and I know you have a whole lot to do besides read this blog!

But I do want to thank you for the way your thanks to me for Mom to Mom’s ministry in your life encourages me. You encourage me because my prayer for Mom to Mom is always that we will pour encouragement into moms and point them Godward. It is a great gift for me when I hear that is happening.

Just three quick examples:

Thank you to the New Hampshire mom who told me that she was so encouraged by some of the quotes from Mom to Mom that she wrote them all over the wall of the room she seemed to find herself spending the most time in—her bathroom! She even showed me a picture to prove it. And believe me, it looked really cool! (She obviously has an artist’s touch).

Thank you to the Texas mom who told me, “Mom to Mom saved my life—and possibly the life of my son!” She went on to tell me that her baby had such bad colic that he cried all the time, night and day. Her husband traveled during the week so she was mostly alone with this baby. “Sometimes I felt as if I just could not survive,” she said. “Being a mom was so very different from what I had expected. But then I would come to Mom to Mom on Wednesdays, and it would get me though the rest of the week till my husband came home Friday night. My son finally outgrew the colic—and now I’m loving being a mom!”

Thank you especially to the precious New Mexico mom who has struggled with cerebral palsy and told me: “This year at Mom to Mom was the first time in my life that I truly felt God’s love—at deeper levels than ever before in my life.” She paused and added, “And you know, Linda, when you know God loves you—really loves you—it changes everything!”

It does, doesn’t it? Change everything—to know God truly, deeply loves you and your family unconditionally and forever?

That’s my prayer for each of you this Thanksgiving: That you will feel His love. And you will know that this is the best reason of all to give thanks!

I echo Paul’s words in Philippians 1:3-4: “I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for you, I always pray with joy…”

Thank you! And Happy Thanksgiving!

The Gratitude Factor

2009-11-08T23:33:00.002-06:00

It feels like a conspiracy of some sort. A Holy Spirit conspiracy, that is. The good kind. Everywhere I look, I am surrounded by reminders of the immense value of gratitude—reminders of my need to foster a grateful heart.

It started when I turned the calendar to a new month: November. November has always been my month of thanks-giving. Years ago when I led a local Mom to Mom group, November was my month for writing each Titus 2 leader a note highlighting particular things about her for which I was grateful. I was amazed every year at how good it felt to do that. It was such a reminder of God’s many blessings in giving us the leaders we had. It was also a reminder of the crazy, wonderful, diverse gifts of the Body of Christ. I love how different we all are!

Yet I seem to need November. Maybe it’s because I can be prone to self-pity—especially in regard to how far away all our kids and grandkids live. It seems to hit me the hardest when I’ve just returned from a visit with some of them. Woody and I just got back from a great weekend with Bengt (4) and Hannah (6 months) and Kelly (their mom) in North Carolina and even got to talk with Lars (their dad) from Afghanistan. I am so grateful—I really am.

But we did have to come home. And home (in Wisconsin) is a long way from North Carolina—and an even longer way from Afghanistan! So this week was somehow lonelier than usual. I could feel a pity party coming on.

Funny, isn’t it, how easily I forget how much I have to be thankful for (wonderful kids and grandkids, for example—and the opportunity to see them fairly often).

As I said, I need November. And God, it seems, had arranged more reminders for me this week. There’s my sign in the kitchen, beautifully done by a Mom to Mom mom: It says simply “Give thanks.” And it reminds me of a sign I read about in a missionary’s home which put it this way: “Try giving thanks.” Hmmm. Good idea!

God’s reminders kept coming to me—often from the most unsuspected places. I was working on a talk about “Three Gifts That Keep on Giving.” Guess what one of those is: a thankful heart. Then, in preparing for a Bible study on Colossians, what should I find but Paul talking about “overflowing with thanks.” Paul, of all people. Writing as a prisoner, probably chained 24/7 to a Roman guard. According to one commentator, Paul uses that word translated “overflowing” some 26 times.

And he didn’t even have grandchildren!

It seems, according to Paul—and also in my own experience—that a thankful heart leads to joy. The deep-down kind of joy that transcends circumstances. The kind you can feel even on the lonely days, the overwhelmed days, the “down” days.

I’ve seen it happen in my own life. Here’s one way it works: when I begin to feel sad, lonely, or disappointed, or when I am overcome with missing my mom, or when I am feeling way too far away from family and friends, or when I feel myself letting worry overtake prayer (instead of the other way around), then I take a “sad-glad” walk. For the first part of the walk, I tell God all the things I am sad about. You’d be surprised at what a good listener He is. And very patient! Then I make the choice to tell Him all the things I am thankful for. I am amazed every time how long that list is. It often becomes a very long walk!

Now this may seem backward to you. And theologically speaking, I think it is. We really should begin with praise and thanksgiving. But somehow, on certain days, I find that venting—getting all that sadness out—frees me up to truly rejoice in the many blessings God has given me. And how many there are.

It’s like the old hymn my mom used to play so beautifully: “Count Your Blessings.” It’s true, isn’t it? “Count your blessings, name them one by one; and it will surprise you what the Lord has done!” It always does—surprise me, that is.

You can see why I need November.

Things That Matter

2009-10-25T19:55:00.004-05:00

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about things that matter and things that don’t. Well, at least, things that don’t matter that much.

One week ago I returned from a 10-day trip. I was facing plenty of catch-up “to do” on the home front. (You know that drill.) I was very, very glad to be home—but was all too quickly consumed by my to-do lists: loads of laundry, an empty refrigerator and pantry, email pile-up, household maintenance calls, beds that needed changing, bathrooms screaming to be cleaned—all this and much more. Sound familiar?

In the midst of this, I had two local speaking engagements on the topic of “Living Your Legacy—Starting Now.” During these, I spoke to women (some moms and some not) about focusing on what really matters. Then I went to a funeral at which a friend of mine gave the eulogy, a moving tribute to his mother.

I began to refocus a bit on the things that really matter.

Then I went to the post office. I went to mail a box to my daughter Erika of miscellaneous things she can’t get in Ireland. Things like chocolate and butterscotch chips, the “right kind” of deodorant, Starbucks coffee (which you can get in Dublin but almost need to take out a loan to buy), a small devotional book I wanted her to have—all kinds of bits and pieces of things.

When my long-awaited turn came, I proudly approached the window with my entire customs form filled out. It’s taken me a while to get the details of international mailing down, but this time I was ready to go. Or so I thought. That is, until the postal worker paused and said, ”M’am, you have a few more things to fill out here . . .”

It turns out that the U.S. Customs Department has issued a new regulation: every single item listed on the form must also have its exact weight specified. That is, M&M’s: so many ounces. Book, so many ounces. Deodorant, so many ounces. Et cetera. You get the drift. And, these individual weights must add up—to the ounce—to the total weight of the box.

Furthermore, the postal employee must now enter every one of these individual details into the computer. Picture the line forming behind me while all this occurs.

It may sound very silly to you, but this was the proverbial last straw in my day with its never-ending to-do list. I immediately saw visions before me of how I would weigh each baby dress or pair of socks sent to Gabriella. Each mint chocolate brownie sent to Lars. The higher math (for me) involved in getting each of these weights to add up to the total. The line that would form behind me each time I go to the post office. Whether or not I would escape such a line with my life . . .

I felt an overwhelming need to vent. (My house guests, the painter working at our house, and my husband can all tell you that vent I did.)

Back at home, I sat down to check my email, and discovered that my husband, Woody, had written an extremely moving email to our family in honor of the 37th anniversary of his father’s death—the grandpa our kids never knew, because he died so young. He never met any of his grandkids.

But his legacy surely lives on. His life has already had a multi-generational effect. He was a B-17 pilot in WWII, flying 29 bombing missions over Germany. Then later, he became a commercial pilot for TWA for the rest of his all-too-short career. He would have loved to have known Lars, and Lars would so love to be able to talk with him.

Woody’s father, B-17 pilot

But his legacy goes much deeper than that. Though Woody wrote several pages about him, these words stand out:

“Most of all, he taught me to love and cherish God. He taught me to live a life that was steady—a steady, solid faith. Not flashy, but solid. He lived in such a way that I knew deep down that God mattered and He loved us and that those facts were foundational in our lives in a deep-down way. He taught me to love our children by loving me and my sisters. I miss him every day.”

Woody with his father and sister

Woody ended his note with some musings about the legacy of a father—both his own and his father’s. He talked about not being perfect. About having rough edges, but still living out the things that matter most. He asked (really asking himself as much as our kids), “Have I been that kind of father to you? Have Mom and I pushed you to love God and to hold fast to Him as the most important thing in your life? I hope so. God knows we pray for you daily, constantly, and entreat God to protect and prosper you in the ways He chooses . . .”

Woody (center back) with his father, grandfather, and two sisters

My focus on what really matters returned. There are things that matter and things that don’t—or at least that don’t matter as much as the things that really matter. Woody’s email letter was a good reminder for me.

Good reminder for all of us, yes?

I leave you with a quote I read recently:

“Our greatest fear as a church and as individuals should not be of failure but of succeeding at things in life that don’t really matter.” *

Hmmm. Helps to put the lines at the post office (and new customs form regulations) in perspective, doesn’t it?

*Tim Kizziar, quoted by Francis Chan in his book, Crazy Love

Marathon Moms

2009-10-06T15:43:00.002-05:00

I’ve been hanging out with a lot of moms lately. It’s one of my favorite things about Fall. I get to speak at various Mom to Mom groups as they start their year. This month I’ve been with moms in Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, New Hampshire—and Dublin, Ireland!

No, the moms I met in Dublin weren’t actually in a Mom to Mom group. You guessed it—Woody and I were visiting our daughter. And, of course, our granddaughter :) And it seemed that everywhere we went there were “mums” (as they say) and babies.

Amazing how much moms have in common, isn’t it? Whether we live on Cape Cod or near the White Mountains of New Hampshire or in southeastern Pennsylvania—or Ireland! There are just certain things a mom understands that no one else “gets” in the same way. It’s one of the things I love about Mom to Mom.

While we were in Dublin, there were a number of wonderful moments. We went with Erika and Gabriella to get “Gigi’s” (as they often call her) first haircut. We attended our son-in-law Richie’s graduation from Irish Bible Institute—a great accomplishment and wonderful celebration. We worshipped with one of my favorite congregations—Erika and Richie’s little “Saturday @ Five” community.

But there was one moment that stands out. One moment that captured “the Mom thing” in a unique and memorable way. While we were there, Erika ran the Dublin Half-Marathon. It was a gorgeous day. Perfect weather for running—probably low sixties, slight breeze, a little sun but not too much. Woody and Richie and I had the pleasure not only of watching Erika run but also hanging out with Gabriella for the morning. Actually, Richie did most of it. He carried Gabriela around all morning in the “Baby Bjorn.” And did she ever love it! Being both very social and vey curious, she loved the fact that she had a great view, could wave her “Princess Di” wave to anyone who passed by—and not miss a thing that was going on anywhere.

Though we had both the “buggy” (what the Irish call strollers) and a blanket and toys so she could have a change of scenery if needed, she seemed so happy in her cozy front-carrier that we really never moved her around much.

When Erika came running over to us after crossing the Finish Line, flush with adrenalin and exhaustion and the joy of meeting her goal of under two hours, she was delighted to hear how well Gigi had done in her happy perch. Until, that is, she noticed that the “Baby Bjorn” was a little bit wet. And then she inquired whether we’d given her anything to drink. Or had she had her lunch yet?

OK, here comes the embarrassing truth. While Erika was running a half-marathon, her daughter’s Nana (a mommy herself, no less!), “Farfar” (what the kids call Woody, with a nod to his Swedish heritage), and Daddy (and a really good daddy, I might add) missed the fact that she might be wet, could need a drink, and that it was time for her lunch! When Mommy came back, things shaped up in a hurry, you can be sure.

In our defense, I must say that Gabriella was happy as could be, had had a snack earlier, and seemed content to wait for lunch till Mommy crossed the finish line.
But nonetheless, it was a revealing moment for me. What a marathon moms run every day of their lives! This “mom-job” is never-ending, relentless, 24/7. And despite any help you may or may not get from the rest of your family, it’s Mommy where the buck stops, isn’t it?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for the whole family pitching in. I love to see how gracefully both my sons and my son-in-law “co-parent” their children. They do a great job!

It’s just that I want to salute every one of you moms for the amazing role you play in the lives of your kids. It’s worthy of a medal, really. I hope you know how we at Mom to Mom cheer you on, hope to offer you refreshment and encouragement along the way—and salute you for running a most important race!

Lessons Learned from a Little Boy in a Body Cast

2009-09-13T18:34:00.000-05:00

We got to spend last weekend with our grandson Soren. His last weekend, as it turned out, in his spica cast. (See earlier blog “Hi, Mommy, I’m Just Relaxing” for background.) More on his wonderful new freedom in a minute.

But first, before I lose them, a few lessons I learned (or relearned) from Soren—and his parents—last weekend. I’m going to try to put them in bullet form. Which may prove to be an impossible task, given that each one is material for an entire blog—or perhaps a Mom to Mom session!

First, our total dependence on God. Soren had to be carried everywhere. Kind of the way God carries us (See Exodus 19:4 and Deuteronomy 1:31 for two of many Biblical allusions to this.) What a picture of parental/Parental love!
The absolute necessity of trust. Once when Soren was fearful in the bathtub (yes, he had an immersible cast—a great blessing but no small task in the tub each night) due to his loss of control, Abby asked him what he was afraid of, then reminded him how firmly she was holding him and asked him what a certain character in one of his Bible DVD’s does when he’s afraid. “Pray to God,” Soren said. “Can you do that, Soren?” “Yes.” “And does that make you feel better?” “Yes.” Can you do that, Linda?
“Nana, will you sit next to me?” Soren’s most frequently asked question made me think how basic a need this is for all of us—someone to “sit next” to us. It’s what the moms you know—in your MTM group. your play group, your neighborhood are all asking, isn’t it?
“Nana, will you play with me?” This was Soren’s second most common request while he was sitting in his chair at the table specially designed for kids in spica casts. Of course you can imagine how much fun this Nana had playing with him. But it made me think: Isn’t this also what people all around us are looking for? No matter how “busy” we may all look, it’s easy to be lonely in a crowd. We all need someone to sit next to, someone to play with. Thanks for reminding me, Soren.
Kids tend to treat others the way they are treated. Soren has always been a child quick to ask, if there’s the slightest question in his mind, “Nana, are you OK?” But last weekend I watched his delightful interaction with his puppets Mouse, Rabbit and Bear—Mouse being the hands-down favorite. When Mouse suggested that he might be tired and need a nap soon (Nana preparing for nap time coming up), Soren immediately responded, “Mouse, you lie down and I’ll rub your back so you can go to sleep.” Hmmm . . . can’t help but wonder how many nights his mommy or daddy had done that for him.
Kids take in a whole lot more than we realize. Sitting at the back of the church service since he couldn’t go into the nursery in his cast, Soren wanted to sit next to me during the sermon. To my surprise, he was listening better than I was! While I was concentrating on holding him close enough that he wouldn’t fall off the chair in his cast, he apparently was listening to the sermon while eating his snack. “Nana,” he nudged me, ”the Pastor said ‘John the Baptist.’ I have him in my Bible matching cards.” Think your kids aren’t listening to your conversation? Think again!
Even two-year-olds can pray. When asked what he wanted to thank God for at each meal, Soren had some hilarious answers—whatever was before him at the moment. (Sometimes it was Nana and Farfar—what grandparents don’t love that!) But he faithfully remembered to either ask God for healing or thank him for “my leg getting better.” How thankful we all are for God’s answer to those prayers!

Which leads me to the great good news that Soren’s cast is now off! His leg has healed enough that the cast could come off, praise God. The cast is history. But the story is not yet over. Soren has to learn to walk again. His body has to relearn muscle memory and his leg has to build up strength. And this, we’re told, will take time. More lessons ahead . . . We’re listening and watching, Soren.

Don’t we always learn the most from our children?

Want a Strong Daughter? Healthy Son? Read This!

2009-08-23T23:31:00.002-05:00

I just love it when a new parenting book comes to my attention that I feel I can whole-heartedly recommend. So I am really excited about two I have just finished reading.

Both are by the same author: Meg Meeker, M.D. One is called Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters. The other is titled Boys Should Be Boys. I like them both so much that I went out and bought the appropriate copies for each of our kids—the fathers especially. Richie got the “daughter book,” Bjorn will get the “boys book,” and Lars (who has both a son and a daughter now) gets copies of both.

Why fathers especially? Well, because Dr. Meeker puts great emphasis on the all-important role of a dad in the lives of both girls and boys growing up. Through both research findings and clinical observation (as well as her all-important personal experience as a daughter), she writes convincingly of the crucial role dads play in raising daughters. “You Are the Most Important Man in Her Life” is one chapter heading; another is “Be the Man You Want Her To Marry.” Similarly, she urges fathers to picture the kind of man they’d like their sons to become. Then, she urges dads, be that man!

Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters is, as the title states, addressed specifically to fathers. The subtitle is “10 Secrets Every Father Should Know.” Boys Should Be Boys (with the subtitle “7 Secrets to Raising Healthy Sons”) is addressed to both fathers and mothers. Both, however, are important reading for fathers and mothers alike. In fact, they would make for great discussion between you.

Meeker is very realistic in her depiction of the culture in which we are raising kids today. Many of the statistics, as well as the stories she shares, are sobering. They could be depressing.
But they’re not. They’re hope-filled rather than despairing because Dr. Meeker repeatedly affirms what we say often at Mom to Mom: “You can—and do—make a difference.” They’re also hope-filled because they are full of practical tips and ideas as to how you can make that difference. And finally, they are hope-filled because they point parents in a gentle but firm way toward the real Source of our hope—the God who gave us these children.

And they encourage parents to point their children in that direction as well. There is a great chapter in the daughter book entitled, “Teach Her Who God Is.” And, in the chapter in the boys book on “The God Factor,” Meeker points out again and again (with lots of evidence) that “God is good for kids.”

Dr. Meeker is a pediatrician who writes as a scientist and clinician, but more importantly as a mother. Her heart shows through. Nowhere is that more apparent than in her chapter called “A Mother’s Son.” It made me cry. I won’t tell you why. I want you to find out for yourself.

So if you’re looking for some good reading this August—or maybe a good book to share with your husband, I highly recommend these two. I hope you’ll notice a lot of principles that sound familiar from Mom to Mom. I found myself saying again and again, “Right on!”

But I also hope you will be encouraged. I suspect you will read a great deal that resonates with what you are already doing. And you will be reminded that with God’s help you can make—and are making—a huge difference in the life of your son or daughter.

Bubbles, Bubble Gum, and Beautiful Hands

2009-08-14T17:08:00.002-05:00

Doesn’t everybody love bubbles? The kids—and mommies—at KidsFest in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin sure do! Last Tuesday we had a blast giving out bubbles, bubble gum (with parental permission, of course!) and Mom to Mom brochures at a big park on a beautiful day in Oconomowoc (Don’t you just love saying that name? But try typing it!). We had a fun craft for the kids: they could do a handprint in a heart for their moms. It was a big hit! And such beautiful little hands…

We also had great conversations with many mommies about a new Mom to Mom group which will be starting at the Oconomowoc YMCA in September. We are very excited about this. The YMCA seems to be excited as well. As far as we know, this will be a “first”—to have a YMCA sponsoring a Mom to Mom group. We have a wonderful group of Titus 2 Leaders who are praying and being trained this summer (some of them are pictured at our booth at KidsFest), and we can’t wait to see the moms God will bring.

Why am I sharing this with you? Two reasons. First, it was a great way to get the word out about Mom to Mom. And I am wondering if any of you out there in Mom to Mom groups around the country might find an opportunity to have a Mom to Mom booth at a local festival or community gathering. It could help us reach out to moms who may not be in our churches, which has been one of the goals of Mom to Mom all along.

Also, we are very excited about the YMCA sponsoring Mom to Mom. And we can’t help but wonder if there might be any other YMCAs that would be interested in doing so. Just a thought. You might keep your eyes open if you belong to a local YMCA.

Actually, I guess I have a third reason for telling you about this. It was just so much fun! What could be better than a beautiful summer day in a park filled with kids and mommies? And a chance to chat with one mom after another about how she might be encouraged by being in Mom to Mom.

I hope you have some bubbles, bubble gum, and beautiful hands in your life this summer. I’ll bet you do! And if any of you have some fun ideas to share about how you are getting the word out about Mom to Mom, we’d love to hear from you!

"Hi, Mommy. I’m just relaxing."

2009-08-03T12:03:00.003-05:00

These are the words of my 2½-year-old grandson, Soren, just a couple of days ago to his mom as he lay completely still on their living room floor. Wait a minute, you say. A 2½-year-old lying still and just relaxing?!! You’ve got to be kidding. How does that happen?

Two words: spica cast.

For those of you who, like me up until a week ago today, had never heard of a spica cast, a word of explanation. A spica cast is basically a body cast designed to immobilize the trunk and one or more legs. In Soren’s case, the cast extends from his chest to the toes of his right leg and to just above the knee of his left leg.

Why the spica cast? Because just a week ago today Soren tripped over a friend’s legs and simply fell the wrong way, probably twisting as he turned, breaking his femur, the large thigh bone so important to how our bodies work.

We had just retuned from a wonderful week’s vacation as a family (all except Lars, of course—who is in Afghanistan) on Cape Cod. Soren and his “big cousin,” 3½-year-old Bengt, had had a blast together, running all over house and yard and having a grand time. Many times I prayed for their safety as I watched those little legs run themselves crazy with fun.

And then a fluke accident in his own living room. Talk about a life-changing moment! At least life-changing for the next two months.

So now Soren—and his parents Bjorn and Abby—are adjusting to a very different August than they had planned. Instead of both being at camp this week with their Young Life kids, Bjorn is at camp and Abby is at home taking care of Soren, with the help of Abby’s wonderful mom.

What in the world do you do with an immobilized 2½ year old for two months? That was one of my first questions. Well, time will tell. It’s only been a week. But already Bjorn and Abby have learned a lot about a world they never knew.

And we all, I must say, are learning a lot from Soren. His life right now is hard—very hard. And so, as you can imagine, is his parents’. There are moments of deep sadness. Times when he wakes up, looks down at his cast, and just sobs inconsolably. Times when his response to his mom’s invitation to take him out in a special stroller to see the neighbor kids is, amidst tears: “But Mommy, I can’t play. I have a cast.”

But there are other times as well. Times like the surprising joy of his first stroller ride down his street. Times when he greets little friends with delight. Times when he can lose himself in a book or story, in the delight of the words he so loves. Even times when he can smile as he looks at Abby and says, “Hi, Mommy. I’m just relaxing.”

We’re learning a lot about the body of Christ as well. Friends near and far have surrounded this little family, helping and giving and praying and loving them through this hard time in every way imaginable.

Why am I sharing this? Well, first of all, because I want to ask you to pray for Soren and Bjorn and Abby. They will need daily strength and grace beyond anything they could have imagined a week ago. I keep thinking of the widow in the Old Testament whose jar of oil and bin of flour were replenished daily—just enough for one day at a time. And of Paul, who learned that God’s grace and strength are truly sufficient in our weakness. And of course I would ask for your prayers for complete and uncomplicated healing of that little boy’s big bone.

But I am also reminded—we all are—that Soren is facing this great obstacle temporarily, while for many parents and children the challenges they face on a daily basis are much longer-term. A time like this gets our attention. For me, it is a reminder of all of you Mom to Mom mothers out there who are facing big, ongoing special challenges with your children—some potentially life-long. I find myself praying for all of you when I pray for Bjorn and Abby and Soren.
And then, too, I find myself thinking of the times in our own lives when we struggle with feeling constricted. When we wake up to a new day realizing things haven’t changed—the “cast,” whatever it may be in our own lives, is still there. But so is our Father, our heavenly parent, who loves and cares for us all the more through these struggles. Just as Abby lies on the living room floor alongside Soren for many an hour, our Heavenly Parent is there for us in our toughest moments.

If only we could, now and then, trust Him enough to say along with Soren, “Hi God. I’m just relaxing….”

And BTW, if any of you have some great ideas of what to do with a 2½-year-old in a spica cast, we’d love to hear from you!

Overflow Options and Groundhog Day

2009-07-02T15:15:00.001-05:00

Wow! I am humbled as I realize it’s been over a month since I last posted a blog. In the last one I wrote about overflowing emotions—the joy of a new granddaughter and the challenge of seeing our son deployed to Afghanistan.

Since then—a different kind of overflow. This one in our basement. A couple of weeks ago I awoke to six inches of water in our beautifully finished lower level! A total shock, as both Woody and I had managed to sleep blissfully through most of a terrible storm which knocked out our power and dumped five inches of rain in our area in just a couple of hours.

This is where, curiously, Ground Hog Day comes in. Remember the 1993 Bill Murray movie in which a TV meteorologist found himself living the same day over and over? Well, just a year ago in this same month we had a similar storm. We didn’t lose power that time but found our basement underwater in just a couple of hours due to what was then called a “hundred year flood.”

We’re beginning to understand that these occur pretty much annually in Wisconsin.

We thought we had fixed the problem last year, installing a super-duper double sump pump with battery back up of the best kind we could get. Not enough, apparently for this year’s “hundred year storm.” So I find myself doing all over again the same things I did last year. Once again I am talking to neighbors and researching options for truly “fixing it” this time. We thought we had done that last year before we had the entire basement put back together again, with restored baseboard and dry wall, new carpet and pad, new paint and paper throughout. That was then—June 2008. This is now—June 2009. And once again I am dealing with ServiceMaster crews and insurance agents and plumbers and electricians and dry-wallers and carpenters . . . it is, as Yogi Berra famously put it, “déjà vu all over again.”

Actually, I thought of the comparison to Groundhog Day because of an email I received from Lars in Afghanistan in which he described his current life in a tent at a blazing hot, desert-dry Marine base as feeling like Groundhog Day. He wrote about the daily challenge to “choose joy” even in the midst of his very difficult circumstances. He talked about being on a journey to discover Paul’s secret of being content. You guessed it—he’s been reading Philippians.

Hmmm. Isn’t it amazing how much we learn from our kids? Now, whenever I feel frustration overwhelming me and think I cannot talk to one more person about water or sump pumps or generators, I think of Lars. And I think of Paul, writing Philippians from a Roman prison—or at the very least under house arrest awaiting a Roman trial. I ask God to help me choose joy.
Which leads me back to the “overflow” idea. In that little letter to the Philippians, Paul wrote about “overflowing with joy.” (Philippians 1:26) Amazing! I’m reminded of another place (Romans) where Paul talks of overflow: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 15:13)

Is it possible to “overflow with hope” amidst the deserts and floods and Groundhog Days of our lives? The Apostle Paul apparently thought so. I suspect the key is in that tricky little phrase in the middle of Romans 15:13: “…as you trust in Him…”

A daily challenge. For Paul. For Lars. Even for me, in my far more mundane circumstances.

How about you?

Tongue-tied, Rejoicing, and On My Knees

2009-05-25T22:12:00.003-05:00

I seem to have been experiencing a strange kind of writer’s block lately. It comes at an inconvenient time—when I have both wonderful news and a great big prayer request I want to share with you. But I can’t seem to get the words out of my mouth—or, more accurately, into my word processor.

I think I’m beginning to understand why. I think it’ a special kind of mama writer’s block that seems to come upon me when my heart is overflowing: overflowing with either joy or anxiety—or, in this case, a strange blend of both.

But here I am—trying anyway. First the great good news. We have a new granddaughter! Hannah Grace Anderson was born on May 16 to her delighted parents Lars and Kelly and very excited big brother Bengt. Healthy and happy at 8 lbs 5 oz and 22 inches, she is a beautiful baby. (Of course you knew I’d say that—but she is!) She was named, I believe, primarily after Hannah in the Old Testament (my soul mate, as those of you in Mom to Mom know) and the great grace of God. But she also bears the names of two great great grandmothers—Woody’s grandmother Hannah and my Nana, Grace. Oh how we rejoice over Hannah’s safe arrival!

But here’s the glitch. Hannah’s daddy, our son Lars, leaves for Afghanistan this week. A C-130 Aircraft Commander and Captain in the Marines, he is scheduled to be deployed to Afghanistan for at least five months—possibly as long as ten months. You can imagine how this fills my mama-heart. Not only for Lars—a huge prayer request which every one of you mothers understands. But also for Kelly and Bengt and Hannah. Sometimes I’m not sure whose deployment is more challenging—Lars’ in Afghanistan or Kelly’s on the homefront...

I’m reminded of something Kelly shared when we visited them in March. She related how a friend of hers, another Marine wife who had just had a baby while her husband was in Iraq, shared her “deployment verse” with her. It was Nehemiah 8:10: “The joy of the Lord is my strength.” A window into the soul of amazing young Marine wives and mothers. I encourage you to pray for all these brave military wives.

And I’m asking you on behalf of my family: Please will you pray for Lars as he goes (most likely May 28) and Kelly as she stays with Bengt and Hannah. May the joy of the Lord truly be their strength! And may this mama-heart be full of that joy even as I walk through these next months on my knees . . .

Lars ends all his emails with these verses. May they bless you as they do all of us:
May the Lord bless and protect you.
May the Lord smile upon you and be gracious to you.
May the Lord show you His favor and give you his peace.

Numbers 6:24-26

Heroic Moms: in Ireland, in Wisconsin, and in . . .

2009-04-25T11:18:00.002-05:00

When Woody and I were in Ireland this past March, we were surprised to discover that we were there for Mother’s Day! In Ireland, Mother’s Day is March 22. Of course the whole visit felt like “Mother’s Day” for me, as I got to spend one whole week with my daughter and granddaughter. What more could a mother want?

I was particularly captivated by an article that ran in The Irish Times that weekend entitled “Who’d Be a Mother? The Advertising Angle.” the piece explored what advertising executives had said about how they’d advertise motherhood as a job. The consensus seemed to be that you’d need to be honest and tell the truth about what motherhood involves. One consultant recalled the ad that Antarctic explorer Ernest Shackleton placed in the London Times recruiting men to follow him to the South Pole:

“Men wanted for hazardous journey: small wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, constant danger, safe return doubtful. Honour and recognition in case of success.”

(It is said he received thousands of responses.)

The consultant went on to observe that motherhood is a “heroic expedition that, despite their better judgment, people embark on all the time.” Other contributors to the article, some advertising consultants, some moms, observed that, while motherhood tests your limits and requires multitasking described as “150 careers, one mammy,” it offers meaning and rewards that outweigh all the rest. Yet, as one ad writer and mom said, “Motherhood is about having to be a grown-up every day of your life.” Yikes! Every day of your life—that’s not easy!

I thought of this article a couple of weeks ago as I sat at the celebration brunch at our church’s Mom to Mom in Hartland, Wisconsin. As I listened to some of the stories shared by our moms, I thought about what a hazardous expedition motherhood is, and what heros these moms are. And I realized anew how very very important it is for us to support and encourage each other. How thankful I am that God implanted the idea of Mom to Mom so many years ago and it continues to encourage moms in their heroic journeys.

I’ll let a few of these moms speak for themselves about what Mom to Mom has done for them (quotes are approximate, from my notes):

“It makes me feel like I’m doing something right—or at least HE is!”
“Mom to Mom makes me feel normal, despite serious psychological issues!”
“When I leave, I just feel lighter.”
”Thank you for helping us look above the fray.”

“It’s so awesome to know that you really matter cuz sometimes you just feel like you don’t!”
“My leader is so encouraging. She calls me every Monday, and though I work on Mondays, my husband waits for her call and loves talking with her.”
“It’s helped me realize that every moment counts.”

“I see Jesus in the women in my group, and that has helped draw me closer to Him.”
“It’s helped me move my faith from my head to my heart.”
“It reminds me that God is faithful even when I’m not.”

A hazardous journey. Great rewards. Mom heros. A faithful God. Lots of encouragement needed along the way.

I’m so glad that we moms can join hands and look up and encourage each other in this heroic expedition. I’ll bet you have some hero-moms in your Mom to Mom groups. Got any stories to share? I’d love to hear them!

Waiting for Easter

2009-04-09T09:00:00.002-05:00

Early tomorrow (Good Friday) morning we’ll be flying to Boston, then heading up to New Hampshire to spend Easter weekend with our son Bjorn and his wife Abby and their 2-year-old son Soren. I can’t wait! Whenever we’re on the way to visit any of our kids and grandkids, I feel the same way: I just can’t wait! There’s a wonderful anticipation because we know what’s coming—we always so love being with our family.

But lately I’ve been thinking about a different kind of waiting. It’s the kind of waiting Jesus’ disciples experienced between Good Friday and Resurrection morning. Those hours—days—must have felt like forever. Because remember, they didn’t know—as we do—how the story would turn out.

In Reliving the Passion (a phenomenal book which, by the way, I read every Lenten season and highly recommend), Walter Wangerin captures in a remarkable way the feelings that must have been in the hearts of those who knew and loved Jesus. He imagines Mary lingering among the tombs on Saturday, that wretched empty day when it seemed He’d left them forever:

“Stone cold. And the stone is closed. Where do I go from here? Nowhere. Back to the city. Which is a nowhere now. The Master isn’t there. The Master is not. Everywhere is nowhere. There’s nowhere to go….Because the whole world is a graveyard….Jesus! Jesus! Without you I am a nothing in a nowhere.” [Wangerin, p. 151]

Can you imagine what that must have felt like? We twenty-first century disciples have a hard time even thinking through such a scenario—one in which on Good Friday and the never-ending Saturday that followed, we don’t know that Jesus will rise from the dead—altering history, our own and the entire world’s—forever.

Because we live on the other side of Easter, where we know how it all turns out, I think we often miss out on that overwhelming sense of whooping joy Mary and the other disciples experienced that glorious Easter morning. “Whooping joy”—that’s what Wangerin calls it.

We today can’t entirely know what that kind of waiting—the long desperate hours between Good Friday and the First Easter—feels like. But we certainly experience many kinds of waiting in our lives. Much of the waiting is hard—very, very hard. We wait for illnesses to be healed. For jobs to be found. For relationships to be restored. For pain to be alleviated. For that glorious reunion one day with our loved ones who’ve gone on before us.

I recently heard a very moving testimony from a father whose beautiful daughter was tragically killed in a freak auto accident one sunny summer morning nearly two years ago. He described with great faith, authenticity, and vulnerability his tortuous journey through grieving, even as a deep Christian. How desperately he and his wife would like to see their daughter again—now. But God’s message to him? “Wait.”

I’m reminded of Wangerin’s words to Mary Magdalene:

“Grief, while you are grieving, lasts forever. But under God, forever is a day. Weeping, darling Magdalene, may last the night. But joy cometh with the sunrise—and then your mourning shall be dancing, and gladness shall be the robe around you, Wait. Wait.” [Wangerin, p. 138]

So, go ahead and prepare for Easter, my dear mom-friends. Clean the house. Hide the eggs. Prepare for Easter dinner. Above all, find some creative ways to share the Easter story with your kids. (See last year’s Easter blog for some funny interpretations my kids got of the story. How do you make the story “come alive” for the kids at your house?)

But as you do all this, may God bless your waiting. Your waiting for Easter and all the other waiting in your lives. Remember, there’s “whooping joy” to come. Happy Easter!

What Do Fishing and a Mom's Life Have in Common?

2009-04-05T21:51:00.003-05:00

I love it when we have “guest bloggers” from time to time. This piece was written by one of our Mom to Mom Board members, Kay Benson, who also leads a wonderfully creative group of Mom to Mom women. They keep finding more ways to have fun together! We’d love to hear some comments back from any of you who might have tried something like a “Dad To Dad” night. Or, perhaps might have had some mom-fishing stories of your own—bring ‘em on!

_______________________________

At first glance it doesn’t seem like fishing and a mom’s life fit together at all, does it?

Except for perhaps the messy clean ups, and the “dressing” of both fish and kids, and the practice of waiting…waiting…waiting (for teeth to be brushed, the glass of milk to empty, for the children to finally get into bed and give up the day).

I can hear myself internally shouting, “I’ve got one!” as the last child drifts off to sleep each night.

Sunday evening, Dogwood Church Mom to Mom (near Atlanta) hosted a “Dad to Dad” and the theme was “Fishing Stories.” The guys loved the “manly” theme and we moms could relate by thinking how like fishermen (women?) we often feel.

Jesus had a lot to say about fishing as well. Many of his disciples were fishermen. He used fish analogies throughout his time on earth and liked to explain principles for living by making comparisons with the common, everyday stuff we experience in our real lives.

One of my favorite passages is when Jesus invites his disciples to a breakfast he’s prepared on the shore—a man’s fishing breakfast. The story reminds me of the many breakfasts I’ve prepared. Check it out: John 21:1-14

Kay in Atlanta

Extraordinary Work via Ordinary Lives

2009-03-18T20:06:00.004-05:00

I’ve been with a lot of moms lately: moms in Florida (Sarasota), moms in North Carolina (my daughter-in-law Kelly and friends in New Bern), moms in Illinois (Libertyville and Wheaton—my old home town, so a special treat), and moms in Wisconsin (Lake Geneva). You know how I love this—being with moms at all ages and stages of parenting.

As I meet moms all over the country, I am always amazed. Amazed by their stories. Amazed by their courage. Amazed by their commitment to their calling—their very high calling to love their husbands and children.

In the past couple of weeks I’ve been especially impressed by the extraordinary things God does in “ordinary” lives. Despite their absolutely crucial role, the everyday lives of moms can feel so mundane. So “mind-numbingly boring,” as one Illinois mom put it. It’s a very honest, very real assessment of some of our mom-days . . . many of our mom-days, actually.

“Towel and sandal days,” I sometimes call them, borrowing (again—two blogs in a row) from Oswald Chambers. In the devotional for September 11 in My Utmost for His Highest, Chambers observes that when we work for God we do not choose the circumstances He engineers for us but rather must choose the attitude with which we serve whatever our surroundings.

And of course He points us to Jesus:

“The things Jesus did were of the most menial and commonplace order, and this is an indication that it takes all God’s power in me to do the most commonplace things in His way. Can I use a towel as He did? Towels and dishes and sandals, all the ordinary sordid things of our lives, reveal more quickly than anything what we are made of. It takes God Almighty Incarnate within me to do the meanest duty as it ought to be done.”

As I sat with a group of moms a couple of days ago during a Q and A session, I thought of these words. These moms were grappling with their mama-guilt feelings (“I feel like I just don’t play enough with my daughter”; “Daddies like to play with kids more than mommies do, don’t they, Mommy?”) as well as their frustrations (“I feel as if I never get anything done at all. My son wants to play with me non-stop all day.”) There are a lot of “towel and sandal days” in moms’ lives.

And then our conversation began to drift back to all of our own moms. Several women made an interesting observation: “You know, I don’t really remember my mom playing a lot with me. She had a lot of kids and was really busy just keeping us all safe and fed and clothed. But what I do remember is that she was always there for us. Always there when I needed her.”

That’s saying a lot, isn’t it? There’s a great deal more going on than we realize even in the most ordinary days of our lives if we choose to “use a towel as He did.” Just thought I’d remind you of that in case you may be experiencing a lot of towel and sandal days this mid-March.

Just in case . . .

God Surprises Us in Austin

2009-02-27T16:19:00.002-06:00

The Mom to Mom board met last week in Austin, Texas

“When the Lord does a thing through us, He always transfigures it.” That’s an Oswald Chambers observation from my favorite devotional, My Utmost for His Highest, for February 19. Isn’t it interesting how often God surprises us? How often His plans are different than ours—but always in the long run, better than ours.

God surprised us, the Mom To Mom Board, in a number of ways last week in Austin.

First, our “Event” became something quite different from what we had originally planned when the larger event was postponed and morphed into a “simplified” version (fitting with our theme, actually!). We met Friday night and Saturday morning in an intimate home setting in Austin with groups of women from a number of churches interested in starting a Mom To Mom program. What a delightful time we had as we shared ideas and swapped stories! We’re eager to see what God will do as these wonderful women begin Mom to Mom in their churches and communities.

We also had fun participating in two local Mom to Mom groups. Another God-surprise: The large Wednesday morning Mom to Mom at Lake Hills Church was in desperate need of childcare workers due to a flu outbreak. So a number of our Mom to Mom board members had the great fun of playing with kids and participating in one dynamite childcare program. The Lake Hills childcare team call themselves “The Pink Ladies” (See their picture above—I might join just to get that cute T-shirt!) but also include “Big Dog Daddy”—obviously a big favorite with the kids! It may be a Mom to Mom first—fly in a whole team of experienced Mom to Mom leaders to fill in when too many childcare workers are sick!

Lake Hills also hosted another Mom to Mom group from Westover Church of Christ. I so enjoyed meeting moms from both of these groups and hearing amazing stories of how God is working in their lives and homes and marriages.

Then two of us met on Wednesday night with a new evening Mom to Mom group at Lake Hills Church. As our small group sat in an intimate circle and discussed the Inside Out Parenting lesson, these incredible moms began to share their stories. I have to say I was simply blown away by how God had worked in their lives, pursuing them with His love and bringing them to this place. It was a true Holy Spirit moment—perhaps my favorite memory of the week. How God surprises us, appearing sometimes in the quiet, small places where we might (foolishly) least expect Him! I fell in love with these moms—and more in love than ever with the God who brought us all together.

There was one other surprise for us last week: All the events of the week, the wonderful women we met, and the stories we heard were used by God to help us focus better than ever on our next steps as a Mom to Mom board. One of our biggest prayers for our week in Austin had been that we would hear the voice of God. And we did!

“When the Lord does a thing through us, He always transfigures it.” I hope that each of you will be alert to God’s surprises in your life this week—They’re worth watching for!

Sunshine, Snuggies . . . and It's February!

2009-02-04T13:25:00.006-06:00

I woke up this morning thinking about Snuggies. You know what Snuggies are, right? They’re “the blanket with arms” that you can order for just $19.95 in a variety of colors (“one size fits all”)!

“Such a profound thinker,” you’re saying to yourself.

I woke up thinking about Snuggies because I’m still cold. My backyard thermometer reads 2 below right now. Sometimes I wonder if it will ever be warm again in Wisconsin.

But, even so, I think I’m thawing slightly. I can feel the brain freeze warming just a little bit.

It’s partly because I was in Alabama over the weekend—more on that on my speaker blog. It was a great weekend. And it was sunny! There was green grass and warm breezes. Does wonders for a frozen soul. Mostly because of the warm and wonderful women down there in Daphne. But the sunshine they live in (even in January!) doesn’t hurt any.

Back to the Snuggies. Ever since I saw the first infomercial on TV, I’ve been laughing about Snuggies. Laughing because the lady at the beginning of the commercial (the one in the blanket without arms) looks just like I used to in the house where we lived in Massachusetts. Somehow we never could get that house warm enough—so we took to walking around wearing afghans. Not only me—also, from time to time, the kids. And sometimes, when he was home and not complaining about being too warm (there’s something about Woody’s Viking blood that has thrown off his internal temperature, I’m convinced)—even Woody. No, I’m not kidding. It was quite a sight.

So when I saw the first Snuggie commercial, I nearly fell off the couch laughing. Then I actually found myself seriously considering ordering one. Though our current home is (praise God!) quite toasty…still, when it’s 10 below out there, a Snuggie sounds pretty good. “Not exactly flattering. Not real fashion-forward. But still, when you live in Wisconsin, you gotta do what you gotta do.”

Just then Woody walked through the family room and saw me contemplating a Snuggie on TV. “Don’t even think about it!” he said. Or something like that.

Then what do you suppose I saw when I turned on the Today Show this morning? There was Meredith and Matt and Al and Natalie, flanked by the rest of the crew—all wearing Snuggies! I kid you not. And I’ve gotta say they looked almost as funny as the Anderson Family used to look in our blankets!

I guess I was really on to something when I woke up this morning. According to Matt Lauer, Snuggies are actually “developing a cult-like following.” Guess I’m not alone in being cold.
So maybe I will order one. But then again there’s Woody’s feelings about them. I wonder if he’d feel any differently if they had what Al Roker suggested this morning on Today—“snuggies for two.” After all, it is Valentine’s month.

Speaking of which, aren’t you glad it’s February? Personally, I’ve always liked February better than January. And it’s not just because February is my birthday month. I’ve always loved Valentine’s Day (which we always had fun celebrating with our kids—more on that in some other blog). And hearts. And red. And candy.

Especially candy.

But this February is extra-special because of the Mom to Mom event I told you about last time. I know Texas is a long way away for most of you reading this. But I hope at least a few of you can join us in Austin February 20-21. And thanks to those of you who’ve contributed suggestions, either here or by email, for “Simplifying Motherhood.” Keep ‘em coming!

Happy February! Remember that March—and April and May and even July, when summer finally starts here—can’t be far behind.

Meanwhile, hey, it’s only $19.95...

Babies, Brain Freeze, and January Thaws

2009-01-20T10:29:00.001-06:00

It’s been a long time since I’ve written. One of the reasons for that is that we’ve had a houseful of babies. Actually, only one real baby. We had the great delight of having Gabriella (and her parents) here for almost two glorious weeks. We loved every minute. What a gift this Nana has had—first, nearly three weeks in Dublin with Erika, Richie, and Gabriella and then nearly two weeks with them here.

And we had other “babies” as well. Of course Bengt at age three and Soren at age two are definitely not—as they would be sure to tell you—babies. Bengt is even sleeping in a “big boy bed,” and Soren is clearly a “big boy” compared to his baby cousin “Gabby-umbrella.” But still, they are (don’t tell them) our grandbabies.

And they brought their parents along—you know, the ones who used to be our babies but somehow, when we weren’t looking, grew up and learned to fly airplanes and lead groups and direct ministries. And move far away—too far, as a matter of fact.

But we had them all here for a few short days over New Year’s. It was a house-full—wonderful, glorious chaos. But then they left. And now the house is quiet and neat and organized (well, sort of) again. And I’m not liking it much at all.

It’s also led to a fairly serious problem—brain freeze. For the past week or so, my brain has been frozen. I have things to do, blogs to write, teaching and speaking to plan. But my brain seems to be frozen. No motivation. No new ideas. No creative bursts of energy. All I want to do is go back and relive the chaos days, when everyone was home and the house was messy and noisy and full of life.

Any of you experiencing brain freeze? In talking to a few other people, I’m learning that it does seem to afflict others, especially in January. Now here in Wisconsin you could say it is weather-related. We’ve had many below-zero days and wind chills as low as 30-40 below. But it is actually quite warm and toasty in my house. I really don’t think I can blame it on the weather.
I think it’s kind of a January thing. It comes for different reasons for all of us. For some of you, there actually may be some relief in January in having the kids go back to school. You’re still scratching your head about how I could wish to go back to a chaotic, noisy house. But then there’s the stuff you left to do until after the holidays. The return to the routine. The weather. I know—those of you in the south think it’s cold even down there in January. Just don’t tell us Northerners too much about it!

Which leads me to the last part of my blog title: January thaw. OK, this part is wishful thinking. Though we are experiencing some temperatures in the 20’s, there’s no January thaw in the Milwaukee area. But I’m thinking it would be nice. And it may come someday—by, say, April.
But I do think my brain may be beginning to thaw out just a bit. After all, I’m writing to you . . . Now if only I could get some great creative bursts of energy in my writing and planning of talks.
Which is where you come in. I’m curious: Do any of you have January brain freeze? Any ideas on how to thaw out?

Also, I could use your help. Mom to Mom is planning a fun new event in Austin, Texas, this February 20-21. (Read about it here.) The event theme is “Motherhood: Simplified,” and we’re very excited about it. In fact, even despite my brain freeze, I’m at work right now on three keynote talks.

Of course, all you moms know we don’t mean “Motherhood Made Easy.” There’s certainly no such thing! But we can make it less complicated than our culture seems to say. So I’d love to hear from any of you who have some insights or hot tips on ways you’ve found to simplify your life.

Who knows? Maybe the warmth of hearing from you will even help my brain thaw…

Deathless Prayers: A Mom's Gift

2008-12-20T10:47:00.001-06:00

One year ago yesterday (December 19) my mom died, leaving a huge hole in my heart, a gaping space in my world that will never be filled this side of heaven. I am blessed—abundantly blessed—with a fantastic husband, wonderful children, and great friends. But she was my only mom. No one else in the world really knows you like your mother.

I realize that, sadly, this is not always the case. But it was for me. Next to my husband Woody, my mom was my best friend. She listened to me. (I sometimes wonder how many hours she clocked listening to me—probably years, really, considering the chatty child I was right from the beginning.) She loved me. Selflessly. With the kind of love only someone who knows you “warts and all” can truly give. She laughed with me. Such a gift: a sense of humor.

This morning I was suddenly reminded of one of the most fun weekends of my life. Mom, Erika, and I had the great privilege of speaking at a three-generational mother-daughter retreat. I think the attenders were blessed—I hope so. But I know that Mom, Erika, and I had a blast. We laughed more that weekend than I’d ever thought possible. I came home from the retreat thinking, “Wow! My mom and my daughter are just fun people to be with!”

Above all, my mom prayed for me. Not only for me, but for Woody, for all her kids and grandkids by name, and for countless family and friends spread throughout the world. Mom really knew how to pray. In the last days and even weeks with her, I kept asking myself: “How will I ever live without Mom’s prayers?” I just couldn’t imagine not being able to pick up the phone and fire an urgent prayer request her way. I knew she would pray. I knew she would not forget. I knew she would ask me about it and let me “vent” as long as I needed. But she would also point me Godward, lovingly redirecting me and helping me re-establish perspective.

Well, I’ve lived through one year now without those phone calls. Oh, how I miss them! But I’ve come to understand that I do not live without her prayers. For one thing, it seems to me that she must still be praying for me in Heaven. After all, the Bible not only invites us to pray on this earth; it commands it. And we’re told in the Scripture that Jesus prays for us at the right hand of God the Father. Surely His people in the celestial city must also pray. And if there’s prayer going on, you better believe my Mom will be there!

Then there’s the banner that stopped me in my tracks outside the worship center in our church last Sunday. It’s a quote from E. M. Bounds: “God shapes the world by prayers. Prayers are deathless—they outlive the lives of those who utter them.” Deathless prayers. What a thought. My mom’s prayers will continue to live and bear fruit not only in my life, but also in the lives of my children and grandchildren. Even those born after she left us. Even—maybe especially—the one named after her—tiny Gabriella Eyla Cronin. What a gift her prayers are—the ultimate gift that keeps on giving. What a gift every one of us can give our children—and each other!

All day yesterday I kept thinking of an old poem which I believe captures the essence of my mom’s life. Ironically, it is included (with no attribution other than “selected”) in one of my mom’s favorite devotionals, Streams in the Desert, in the reading for December 19, the day of her death. I’ve seen it elsewhere given the title, “Call Back”:

If you have gone a little way ahead of me, call back—
It will cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track;
And if, perhaps, Faith’s light is dim, because the oil is low,
Your call will guide my lagging course as wearily I go.
Call back, and tell me that He went with you into the storm;
Call back, and say He kept you when the forest’s roots were torn;
That when the heavens thunder and the earthquake shook the hill,
He bore you up and held you where the lofty air was still.
O friend, call back and tell me for I cannot see your face;
They say it glows with triumph and your feet sprint in the race;
But there are mists between us and my spirit eyes are dim
And I cannot see the glory, though I long for word of Him.
But if you’ll say He heard you when your prayer was but a cry,
And if you’ll say He saw you through the night’s sin-darkened sky,
If you have gone a little way ahead, O friend, call back—
It will cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony path.

In her life, Mom was constantly “calling back” encouragement to others—women in her Bible study groups, moms in her Mom To Mom groups, friends, family. Especially family. And now in her New Life, I believe she still calls back. Not only by the example she left us and her many words so lovingly remembered. But also in her prayers. Deathless prayers.

OK, I still miss the phone calls. I desperately miss them. But I am reminded that, despite the temporary absence of two-way communication, she still calls back. And so, it seems, can we in the lives of those we love. An eternal gift. I am grateful.

Babies, Mamas . . . and their Mamas

2008-12-16T16:39:00.002-06:00

I’m back! After 18 wonderful days (and nights—well, maybe they weren’t always so wonderful!) with Gabriella and her parents, I’m back home. And I’m up way too early. Amazing what jet lag does to you—it is, after all, nearly halfway through the day in Dublin.

In these dark and cold (here on the frozen tundra, our backyard thermometer reads below zero—I’m not sure I want to know how much below) early morning hours, I’m thinking thoughts of babies and mothers—and, of course, also the mothers of those mothers.

I’ve come home from my immersion in new-baby-land with two big impressions.

First, I am newly amazed and awed at the love God gives to a mother for her child. To both parents, really—but I am writing primarily to mothers here. It’s amazing what a mother will go through. Not only to give birth—that’s medal-of-honor material in itself. But how about the absolute and complete re-arrangement of your life when you bring that baby home? Topsy-turvy days and nights—if you can even tell the difference! Painful tenderness in all kinds of body parts you rarely thought about before. The need for a caravan (and household staff) just to get you out the door. I really don’t need to go on—you all remember this!

It was a great privilege to watch my daughter become, seemingly almost instantly, such a wonderful mother. And to see the way both Richie and Erika love this beautiful child beyond words even amidst their sleep-deprived fog of new parenting. I have new admiration for all of you reading this who are doing (and have done) the same thing.

My second big impression is a bit more personal. I just have to say that it is hard—very hard—to leave a daughter and granddaughter and get on a plane and fly 8 or 9 hours in the other direction. I envy any of you nanas who don’t have to do this. But this morning I’ve actually moved beyond my personal little pity party. I find myself thinking differently about the Christmas story.

For the first time ever, I find myself thinking of Mary’s mother. I’ve often thought of what that journey to Bethlehem on a donkey must have been like for just-about-to-deliver Mary. In fact, Erika and I talked often of this as we rocked Gabriella in the middle of the night.

But for some reason, I had never thought about Mary’s mother. The Bible tells us nothing about her, so of course this is all speculation. But what must it have been like to see your daughter set off on such a journey at such a time? And then probably not to see (or possibly even hear from) your child—and grandchild—for most likely several years? This was, after all, way before frequent flyer miles and email and Skype and cheap international phone rates!

I just read, for seemingly the thousandth time, Mary’s words to the angel upon learning of the Child she was to bear. The angel Gabriel has just answered Mary’s very human questions with the reminder that “nothing is impossible with God.” And Mary responds (in Luke 1:38), “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.”

Those words have always astounded me. Stopped me right in my tracks. Made me almost speechless. And this morning I’m wondering whether Mary’s own mother had a similar heart response. And maybe that’s what made it possible for her to let Mary go.

Where did they (both Mary and, maybe—just maybe—her mom, too) get the strength to do this? The answer may just lie in my new granddaughter’s name. Gabriella means, I’ve just learned, “God gives strength.” And He does, doesn’t He? To mamas and their mamas all over the world. Then and now. Thank you Jesus! And may each of your reading this feel His strength this Advent season.

A closing personal note: I can’t resist including a few extra pictures this time—thanks for indulging this “Nana.” And . . . one more bit of exciting news from our family: we’re going to have another granddaughter in May! Lars and Kelly just learned from her ultrasound that Bengt is going to get the baby sister he’s been wanting. Lots to celebrate in our family this year. We give thanks.

Gabriella's Here!

2008-11-22T10:08:00.005-06:00

And now—finally—she’s here! Gabriella Eyla Cronin. November 21, 2008. She arrived just two days before her mama’s birthday.

Can you imagine how my eyes filled with tears at the news when Richie called? His description was great: “Our daughter is here—and she’s beautiful. 8 lbs, 5 oz long, with long thin fingers and about an inch of dark hair and a great set of lungs.” Later you told me she has curly hair—such a fun surprise.

And then we heard, “The pediatrician pronounced her ‘perfect.’ ” We are overcome with gratitude. Such a gift from God—and nothing to be taken for granted, for sure.
And how precious that you named her Eyla as her middle name—after your grandmother “Nini.” I’m sure there’s singing in heaven over her birth anyway. But I see a big smile on Nini’s face, don’t you?

I’m just hours from boarding a plane for Dublin as I write this. I can’t wait to meet Gabriella. But I can already see her in my mind’s eye—and somehow she looks a lot like you! Funny, isn’t it? I can just see all that dark hair and cute button nose and long fingers—so much like her mama (except her mama didn’t get the curls ’til later in life!)

I’ll arrive in Dublin on your birthday. How fun is that? Twenty-seven years ago Dad and I had a “Thanksgiving baby.” And now our “baby” has a Thanksgiving baby. God gives great gifts. I just can’t stop thanking Him!

I have to keep this short for now. I’ve been too excited even to get my suitcase packed. But Dublin here I come! What a way to celebrate Thanksgiving!

Our special verse for you when you were born was: “O give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good” (a frequent refrain in many of the Psalms). And now we’re giving thanks again for a new little life. Thank you thank you thank you Jesus!