Mom to Mom

The MTM blog is moving!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Sat, 01 May 2010 18:16:00 +0000

The Mom to Mom blog is moving! Please meet us over here at the new site and update your bookmarks to:

http://www.momtomom.org/blog

See you soon!

How Do You Get Dad More Involved?

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 03:56:00 +0000

I promised to share with you some great “mom questions” I’ve been asked over the past few weeks. So here goes with the first one!

A number of moms have asked how they can get their husbands more involved in the parenting of their kids. Common complaints include: “He just wants to be a playmate, leaving all the discipline to me.” Or: “He really just wants to do his own thing and not get involved at all in day-to-day caregiving.”

Good question! And not an easy one to answer. As I thought about it, I happened to be visiting one of our sons, so I thought I’d get his male perspective on the issue. He happens to be a very involved dad himself. But I asked him what advice he’d give other moms as to how to get their husbands more involved.

His first response put things into stark perspective. “That’s really a hard one, because we all are basically selfish and want to do our own thing.” [BTW, by “we,” I don’t think he meant just men. All of us are basically selfish, though I do think moms get a lot of day-to-day practice in becoming selfless!] He went on to say that a lot of the men he knows seem to be a lot more focused on their own leisure pursuits than on their time with family.

An uphill battle, for sure—at least in some cases. And the hard part about it is that, as we say so often at Mom to Mom, the only person you have power to change is you. You really can’t make another person do anything.

Having said that, here are a few tips I’ve gleaned along the way—some from my own observation and experience and some from a great group of moms who dove into this question along with me:

Pray about it—first, last, and always. Pray especially before speaking about it with your husband. How you approach it can make all the difference!
Watch your attitude! Some of us women are particularly gifted with “attitude,” and if, like me, you are also gifted in sarcasm, watch it. Another point of prayer….
Use “I ...” statements rather than “You …” accusations. “I feel,” “I need,” “I miss,” “I want your input” are far more effective than “You always …” or “You never …” But do tell him what you need, rather than “stuffing it” and letting it smolder.
Use fewer words rather than many (and this from Linda!) When it comes to men and words, less is more, believe me!
Help your husband see the difference he makes for your children—and you! For example, “Honey, he so looks up to you. “ or “She’s just watching for you to notice” or “We just love having you home—and a part of these projects.”
Create opportunities for successful interaction. Sometimes we get so used to “doing everything” that we don’t even leave space for him.
Avoid a constant critique of everything he does—e.g., he went to the store but bought the wrong brand, he put the baby to bed but put on the wrong PJ’s, he never sets the table right. (Ouch! But honestly, Woody does still get the fork and knife sides reversed—is it male dyslexia?)
“Change your thinking.” This from one mom who said she finds she needs to refocus periodically to see what her husband actually does do to help, rather than only what he doesn’t do.
Affirm whenever you can. Let your husband know, at every opportunity, the things you appreciate about him. One mom shared how an older wiser woman with whom she would sometimes share her “husband complaints” would always begin by asking: ”Have you made the list?” The list, that is, of all you love about him—even before the “complaint list” that may come more naturally to us.
Pray some more. Let “Lord, change him” become “Lord, change me.” And sometimes—not always, but sometimes—he will change, too.

Not an easy question. But maybe some of you have something to add. We’d love to hear from you!

Cute shoes, a Clutzy Speaker, and Great Questions

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 22:56:00 +0000

In the past 10 days, I’ve had the privilege of speaking to two groups of terrific moms — one in North Carolina and one in Wisconsin. My only regret is that I didn’t get pictures of each of these groups. (If I get to speak to your Mom to Mom group sometime, will you PLEASE be sure we get pictures? I always forget that!) But you can be sure they look a lot like you—and other moms you know.

My morning in North Carolina brought a new “first” in my speaking experience. I actually spoke sitting down with my foot iced and elevated! It was quite a scene—I really do wish we had gotten a picture!

I didn’t start the morning with a foot injury. No, I waited until just moments before I was to speak and then I performed a feat (no pun intended) that would be absolutely non-reproducible, by me or anyone else! In walking across the room to get some water, I managed to catch the toe of my cute red shoe on the leg of a chair. Nothing really unusual for me about that. But read on: my big toe actually came out of the shoe and got caught on the front edge of the shoe—and bent backward! OUCH!!

“How in the world does such a thing happen?”, you may be wondering. I could never do it a second time — at least I hope not! It was all about the cute shoe . . . and I have my friend Kay to blame for that.

Kay is a real Southerner (she grew up in Alabama and now lives in Atlanta), and thus is my chief clothing consult when I speak in the South, where even moms always seem to manage to look really cute all the time. Or at least that’s my impression. Those of you who live in the South may take it for granted — but for us northerners, it can be a little bit intimidating.

So I ask my friend Kay about what to wear when speaking in the South. In the Fall, for example, where it is actually HOT in October. As I stand in my Wisconsin closet eyeing the woolens that hang there in ready protection against the winters which seem to start here in October, I think of Kay’s advice (only half tongue-in-cheek): “Just wear cute shoes and carry a cute purse. The rest doesn’t matter. It’s all about the cute shoes and purse.”

So of course last week when I was speaking in North Carolina I was wearing cute red shoes. Now these cute shoes are actually very uncomfortable. Very, very uncomfortable. I bought them really cheap at Marshall’s and only wear them for short periods of time — never, for example, in airports or when walking long distances carrying grandchildren.

Last Wednesday I obviously wore them too long—even though it was early in the morning! But the women there were wonderful, producing ice packs, towel wraps, a chair to elevate my very red big toe, plus lots of great mom-TLC. And, despite my clumsiest intro yet, we had a great morning together.

The best part, I thought, was their questions. They had asked if I would do a Q&A after my talk (which I love doing) and had submitted some terrific questions. A wonderful discussion grew out of both what I could share with them and the great, creative ideas they shared on various topics.

Then this week I had a similarly great discussion time with moms at a Mom to Mom here in Wisconsin. (Just for the record, some of those moms had cute shoes, too, I think. The only reason I’m not sure is that being a northerner, I don’t always tend to notice shoes.) These moms also had great questions.

And it got me thinking: one of the most important things in life is asking the right questions. It’s the starting point for so much learning—and growing. Over the years I have often agonized over what was the “right thing to do” in various situations. Often when I bring up these questions with Woody he will say, “Well, for starters, at least you’re asking the right questions.”

So I’m thinking that in the next few blog posts I would like to share a few of the questions these and other moms have asked me recently. And share some of our discussions in response to them. I say “discussions” because good, hard questions don’t tend to have easy answers. And I definitely do not see myself as an “”answer lady.” I am most definitely still learning as I go through my mom-life. And I learn so much from all of you.

But there are some great guidelines—from God, above all, and also from experience. And from other moms. So I hope you’ll stay tuned for some great mom-questions in the future.

And watch out for those cute shoes!

“My Mommy Has a Journal To Pray in”

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Mon, 19 Apr 2010 19:20:00 +0000

Last week I was visiting our son Lars and family in North Carolina. Woody and I both had a great weekend catching up with Lars and Kelly and 4 ½-year-old Bengt and 11-month-old Hannah. And I got to stay on through Wednesday so I could speak at Kelly’s Mom to Mom group — a wonderful treat.

I set my alarm early for that Wednesday morning so I could pray and prepare for Mom to Mom. I knew Bengt would bounce into my room plenty early to “wake up Nana” (something I always look forward to!) and I wanted to be up ahead of him.

Of course this particular morning he was even earlier than usual. As his unforgettable smile peeked around the corner at me, he paused a moment — surprised, I suspect, that I was already sitting up in bed surrounded by books and papers. He was quiet a moment and then he said, “Oh, my mommy has a journal to pray in . . . Hers has a flower on the front.”

“My mommy has a journal to pray in!” Isn’t it interesting that that was Bengt’s first assumption when he saw me sitting quietly early that morning? When I told Kelly about it later, she was surprised that he even knew about her prayer journal. Though she often reads and prays during his “rest times,” she couldn’t remember ever talking about it to him.

But four-year-olds are very observant—and so are kids of all ages. Their earliest memories are imprinted by what they observe us doing. And I believe they notice these things far earlier than we ever realize.

My mind races back to my own childhood. How vividly I remember the chair in our tiny living room where I would often find my dad on his knees when I got up in the morning. And I can still see my mom with her Bible open at our kitchen table — a Bible that was full of markings and underlinings in various colors. As a child, I remember taking note especially of all those markings. At least it wasn’t a library book!

Another thing Bengt told me about during my visit was some of the things they do when, on occasion, they can’t get to church due to sickness or scheduling issues. They have “Anderson House Church.” Bengt proudly showed me the array of instruments he uses to provide music for these worship services (drum, tambourine, castinet — and even a trumpet, which I think is his favorite).

Of course there are Bible stories. And, following in the Anderson tradition, they also act out the stories. Yesterday, Lars was telling us on the phone about their latest home church. Apparently the stories of Daniel in the lions’ den and David and Goliath were the big hits.

Laughing as we remembered some of our own adventures with the “Anderson Players,” Woody said, “I’ll bet you didn’t have a lampshade for Goliath’s helmet!" (Some of you may remember some pretty funny stories about this from Mom to Mom.)

“No,” Lars responded. “But we did have a light saber for a sword - and a stuffed chick worked pretty well as one of David’s smooth stones.”

What does all this have to do with you as a mom — or grandmom? It’s just a reminder, isn’t it, that our children are watching. They are paying attention to the rhythms and habits of our lives. They know what’s important to us.

Even the smallest and simplest traditions you begin and habits you keep can make a difference. Little hands folded in prayer on a high chair. Bible stories introduced in age-appropriate ways. Weekly time set aside for church. People you pray for, make cards for (as one elderly widow in their church told me Bengt had done for her), or bring meals to.

Your children are watching . . . What memories are they making?

Do We - and They - Have More to Tell?

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Thu, 08 Apr 2010 19:21:00 +0000

“Nana, we’re having Easter at our house on Sunday and—Can you come over?” That’s what I heard from the sweet little voice on my cell phone one afternoon just before Easter. Of course it brought tears to my eyes. For many reasons—one of them being that, since we live in Wisconsin and Soren lives in New Hampshire and we weren’t traveling this Easter, I couldn’t “come over.” And how I wished I could!

When I told Soren this, his next words got me even more: “But I could come to your house!” Realizing it would be difficult to explain to a 3-year-old the unfortunate distance between our homes, I shifted the conversation to what we celebrate on Easter. And I reminded him of how we shared the story when I was with him last Easter. “Remember, Soren, how you and I said ‘Jesus is alive—YAY!’ and we threw our hands up?”

“But Nana,” Soren replied, “I’m older this year and I can tell more about that.” He proceeded to tell me the whole Easter story. Of course I was reminded of his father, Bjorn, when he was 4, telling the Easter story to his friend Mark and directing their own little “Passion Play” in our back yard many years ago. Soren may be ready for that before long . . .

But it was that one sentence that stuck with me: “But Nana, I’m older now and can tell more about that.” Isn’t it cool, I thought, how children learn a little more each year about the stories of Jesus and the love of God? It’s such a developmental thing. It makes me thankful—oh so thankful—that my children are telling these stories to their children. It’s just what God intended, isn’t it? It’s Deuteronomy 6, and Psalm 78, in action. In real-life, everyday life, ordinary life.

But Soren’s comment took me deeper, into my own life right now. Having been blessed by parents who introduced me to Jesus at an early age, I have walked with Him many years. Do I have more to tell each year about Jesus and what it means to walk with Him? Do you? Do you have more to tell your children about Him as you grow in your own walk with Him? Your grandchildren? The younger moms God has given you to mentor—in Mom to Mom, or in your church, or in your neighborhood?

“I’m older now and can tell you more about that.” It’s actually the very essence, isn’t it, of the whole “Titus 2 model” around which Mom to Mom has grown? And even more profoundly, what Paul instructs “older women” to do for younger women in Titus 2.

“I’m older now and can tell more about that.”

Oh, how I hope that is true of me, every day of my life between here and eternity.

What Are You Looking Forward To?

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 17:59:00 +0000

That’s the question our small group leader started with last night. “As you look ahead to this Easter weekend,” he asked, “what are you most looking forward to?”

There was a brief silence as we all thought about the question. And I admit it: My very first thought was: ”Well, I’m not sure. This is the first weekend in maybe four years when we won’t be with any of our kids.” My mind raced back over last Easter with our kids in New Hampshire, two or three Easters before that with our family in North Carolina — even an Easter six years ago visiting Erika in Ireland, where she was then doing a missions apprenticeship. This Easter we are blessed to be celebrating with extended family, but we won’t be with any of our children or grandchildren.

After this brief reflection on Easters past and present, I suddenly realized what I really am most looking forward to this Easter. And I also realized that it’s what I most look forward to every Easter, whether in the midst of family or not. I’m looking forward to finishing the last few chapters of the book I read every year at Lent and finish every Easter weekend, the book that — next to the Scriptures — most takes me back into the First Easter and thus into the Easter I am now celebrating.

The book is Reliving the Passion, by Walter Wangerin, and I truly wish I could give a copy to everyone I know. Walter Wangerin is a powerful writer, and in this book he is at his very best. In forty “Meditations on the Suffering, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus as Recorded in Mark” (as the subtitle reads), he takes us back into The Story in a way no other author has ever done for me.

The introduction is worth the price of the book. Wangerin recreates for us his perspective as a young boy in his church in North Dakota, where his pastor father preached through the passion of Jesus for the six Wednesdays of Lent. As his father preached, Wangerin found himself in the story. He was there, at the arrest, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus. In a way almost reminiscent of the little boy in the movie “The Never-Ending Story” (Any of you remember that? Great story!), Wangerin climbed into the story.

And that’s just what he invites each of us to do in Reliving the Passion. We see the passion of Jesus from the perspective of Peter, of the Pharisees, of Pilate, of the centurion, of various women who interacted with Jesus—and especially of Mary. Some of the readings (there are forty of them to match the days of Lent) are more theological/philosophical and lift us even above the earthly story to the amazing redemption plan being orchestrated from heaven.

His words are powerful. Words are powerful. I’m reminded of something Frederick Buechner (another writer of powerful words) says somewhere in commenting on the power of words: “The magic of words is that they have power to do more than convey meaning; not only do they have the power to make things clear, they make things happen.”

Words definitely “make things happen” for me. They always have—since I was a small child. I remember a period in first grade when I was sick for a long time and out of school a lot. I spent hours reading through a giant Bible Story book, transported into the stories as I read. I especially remember reading of the Passion of Jesus and sobbing my way through the pictures and words. I was horrified and deeply moved at the same time. “If this is really what happened to Jesus,” I thought, “how can people speak of it so complacently, how can it almost sound ho-hum in some retellings?” I remember pouring out my love for Jesus amidst many tears.

I guess that’s why I’m looking forward to finishing Reliving the Passion, even as I also re-read the Gospel accounts yet again this year. I’m looking forward to celebrating His resurrection with the “whooping joy” Wangerin describes. Having entered into the total blackness of Good Friday and the quiet despair of those first disciples on Saturday, I will be ready to celebrate Easter morning with Mary, shaking with excitement as she shares with Peter what she has just seen—and heard.

Last night we concluded our time in our small group by reading powerful passages from Scripture which not only took us back into The Story but also gave us, through Colossians 1 and Revelation 19 and 21, a stunning glimpse into God’s great redemption plan, including a look into the future (what I’m most looking forward to, really — when “He will wipe every tear from our eyes.” ) Talk about powerful! Is there anything more powerful than God’s Word read aloud?

So, this Easter, wherever you find yourself — with family or not — I hope you will let words transport you into THE STORY. Read the Gospel accounts aloud, read the Wangerin book if you have it. Listen to Fernando Ortega’s “Sing To Jesus” and let music magnify the words. If your children are young, read the Easter story aloud to them from an age-appropriate book. Last year, when our grandson Soren was just 2 ½, it was summed up in a single sentence: “Jesus is alive — YAY!” Powerful words, even at two.

Happy Easter!

Expectant Easter Living

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 22:20:00 +0000

This morning as I was reading about Holy Week in The Message, one sentence jumped off the page at me. It was Mark 15:43, where Mark describes the man who was courageous enough to go to Pilate and ask to bury the body of Jesus, Joseph of Arimathea. “He was one who lived expectantly, on the lookout for the Kingdom of God.”

Living expectantly. Wow! What would that look like, I began to ask myself.

For starters, what did it look like for Joseph on that Good Friday so long ago? We don’t know a great deal about this Joseph. But as we piece together the various Gospel accounts (he appears in all four narratives), we learn these facts. He was a wealthy man who was a respected member of the Sanhedrin. He is described as a “good and righteous” man who did not go along with the decision to crucify Jesus. (Luke 23:50-51) John tells us that he had been a secret follower of Jesus because he was afraid of the Jews. (John 19:38)

Yet now Joseph goes to Pilate and makes a bold request. One that could get him in trouble with the Romans because criminals executed for high treason (as Jesus ostensibly was) were not given the right to a proper burial. One that would certainly get him in big trouble with the Jews, jeopardizing his place and standing in the religious community. He wants the body of Jesus released to him, so he can bury him lovingly and respectfully in his own tomb.

What gave him the courage to do this? Was it partly at least because he lived expectantly? Because he was “on the lookout for the Kingdom of God”?

Joseph, it seems, was searching for God, even though as a member of the high Jewish council he could have complacently felt as though he already knew everything there was to know about God. Or, if he wasn’t actively searching for God until Jesus came on the scene, at least he was open to seeing Him when He came along.

It makes me wonder how expectantly I am living. Am I “on the lookout” for God? Am I asking Him to show up in my life and show me more of Himself? More of who He is calling me to be and what He is calling me to do—as a wife, as a mother and grandmother, as a neighbor, as a teacher and Mom to Mom leader, as a follower of Jesus?

And am I willing to be surprised by how He appears and what He says? So often God doesn’t show up in the ways we most expect. Joseph of Arimathea, wealthy man in the community and respected member of the Sanhedrin, surely could not have expected the Messiah to show up as carpenter from Galilee (Nazareth, of all places!) who turned everything upside down by healing the sick and raising the dead and upturning the tables of the money-changers in the temple — and got the Jewish rulers so frenzied in their fury that they wanted him crucified!

Yesterday, on Palm Sunday, our preacher spoke of the varying expectations that people in the Palm Sunday crowd had of Jesus. And he asked a penetrating question, one that echoes in my heart on this Monday morning: “What kind of Jesus are you expecting? What kind of Jesus do you have — one Who submits to what you want Him to do? Or One to Whom you need to submit?”

It’s an important question this Easter. It’s an important question every day of our lives, actually. Because Jesus often shows up in places and in ways we least expect. Just ask Joseph the next day after he had buried Him. Or ask Peter or John or those first women at the tomb. They surely had not expected their Messiah, their Lord, to die on a cross. And once they had buried Jesus, what did they expect? Probably not what they got on Easter morning! But (praise God) He showed up anyway — and changed the course of history (and our lives!) from that moment on!

Expectant Easter living. What would that look like for us, for you and for me, this Easter? I’m not entirely sure. I just know I’d like to try it. I’d like to ask God to show me Himself in new ways. I’d like to be open to surprises. I’d like to be willing to act on what He tells me to do — to follow Him even when I don’t understand what He is doing, to go with Him through the dark times toward the joy that comes in the morning.

“She was one who lived expectantly, on the lookout for the Kingdom of God.” Expectant Easter blessings to you this Holy Week!

Songs from the Mama-Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 21:52:00 +0000

I’ve just returned from Dublin. We had nine glorious days there—with not one drop of rain. And, believe it or not, 8 of those 9 days were sunny! It must be some kind of record.

But of course we didn’t go to Ireland for the weather. We went to be with our daughter and granddaughter (and son-in-law, when he wasn’t working). In a sense, our 9 days there were very ordinary. What we wanted most to do was just “hang out” with Erika and Gabriella.

And that’s what we did. We took long walks with Gabriella in the “buggy” (what the Irish call strollers). We did a little shopping here and there—at Avoca in a beautiful place called Powers Court, at IKEA (well, more than a little shopping there, IKEA being nearly a city in itself), and even at local supermarkets. We visited “Kiddlywinks,” a large playgroup that meets at their church every Friday morning. We got to go in and get Gigi (Gabriella’s nickname) out of her “cot” (what we call a “crib”) after naptime and savor the huge grin and sweet hugs fresh from a well-rested baby.

In a sense, ordinary days. But of course not ordinary at all for this “Nana and Farfar,” who have to fly so many miles to experience them. The days always fly by too fast. And the trip home is always long. The westbound flight actually is an hour or so longer than the eastbound flight. But it feels even longer than that because my “Nana heart” feels we’re flying in the wrong direction.

But I come home with sweet memories—and music in my heart. One reason for that is that Gabriella absolutely loves music.—any kind. And dancing. At the least hint of music from any source, be it a CD or a toy or even a cell phone, she moves and grooves to the music. She is very much like her mother was in that it is almost physically impossible for her to remain still when the music starts.

Music is truly a great gift for Gabriella—and her mother. When she is sad, it soothes her. When she is cranky, it picks up her mood. When she is bored, it energizes her. She has music in her soul.

Which brings me to the “Mama-songs” in the title. One of my favorite memories from last week is getting to put Gigi to bed one night when we “traded rooms” with Erika and Richie, sending them for a night out for dinner and a movie and then overnight at a B&B while we stayed at their place and took care of Gabriella.

Before they left, I went over Gigi’s bedtime rituals with Erika. These involve reading a couple of board books with her, getting her “soother” (pacifier) and favorite stuffed animal Hammie out of the cot, and rocking her and singing to her before putting her to bed.

“What songs do you sing?” I asked Erika. “ ‘Children of the Heavenly Father,’ ‘Peace,’ and ‘The Lord’s My Shepherd,’” she said.

Suddenly I was taken back many years, for the first two songs are the songs I sang to all my children when I put them to bed. The first is especially precious—an old Swedish hymn that has been a vital part of life in my husband’s family for decades. We had it sung at our wedding, at the funerals of both Woody’s parents, and the music was used in the weddings of all three of our kids. I even tried to sing one verse in Swedish to our kids before bed, though I imagine a true Swede wouldn’t have recognized my butchered Swedish. The kids didn’t seem to mind.

As I rocked Gigi that night and sang to her, I could feel her settle and snuggle to the familiar songs. My mama-heart was flooded with memories. Memories of rocking and singing to my own children so long ago. But also a sweet memory from two Christmases ago. One night Erika had taken the then-newborn Gigi down to our lower level to calm her crying. She was rocking her and singing to her when our grandson Bengt slipped down the stairs and began to watch and listen from the bottom step. She was singing “Children of the Heavenly Father.”

“My Daddy sings that song to me,” Bengt said, mesmerized by the familiar music. “That’s my Daddy’s song.” Yes, it was. And is. And his daddy’s daddy’s song before that. And his great-grandfather and grandmother. Mommies and daddies of each generation probably sang that song to their babies.

It is a hymn reminding us all of God’s grace and protection in all the days—and nights—of our lives. In a sense it’s a grown-up song. The words probably mean very little to small children. They mean more, at the time, to the mommies and daddies who sing them, needing God’s love and grace and peace for another night—and another day.

But music touches the soul. It’s a beautiful way to live out Psalm 78:3-7: “We will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord . . .”
Read the rest—and sing!

What songs are you singing to your children?

I Would Like to Introduce . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 12:28:00 +0000

. . . the newest member of our family: Nils David Anderson was born February 23, 2010, in Dover, New Hampshire. Bjorn and Abby are two very proud parents, and “Big Bro” Soren is very happy to tell everybody: “I got a new baby brother!”

We are all so very grateful for Nils’ safe arrival. He is healthy and alert and, I have to say, quite a handsome little guy. What great gifts God gives!

You can imagine how much fun this happy Nana had spending 12 whole days in New Hampshire, first hanging out with Soren while Nils took his time coming, then staying with Soren while Mommy and Daddy were in the hospital. We read piles of books, played car smash-ups, and visited a children’s museum and the library - twice in one week.

He entertained me continually with his just-turned-three commentary on life. A commentary that included everything from his question on waking up one morning (“Nana, do I look older?”) to his concern about birds at a feeder (“Nana, they don’t pray before they eat . . . You should pray, guys”) to his descriptions of his little brother being in “Mommy’s tummy car” to his answer when I asked him about who the man was in a Bible story picture he had colored (“Oh, that’s Zaccheus. He’s just some climber guy.”)

Once Nils arrived home from the hospital, the real adventures began. That first night, the wind was howling wildly, rattling windows and shaking branches against the house. With Soren in bed, we snuggled up with Nils and settled in to watch the Olympics. Just as we were about to watch the final six skaters in the Women’s Figure Skating long program (my favorite part of the Olympics - sigh), Abby and I saw a flash and heard a strange sound outside. The house suddenly went dark. Obviously power was out throughout their neighborhood. And, as it turned out, for some 200,000 plus people in southern New Hampshire. We later learned that the storm sweeping through their area had clocked winds in excess of 90 mph.

That was the beginning of a string of adventures for Nils and his family. A two-day power outage. Packing up everything needed for a new baby and a 3-year-old for a trip down to the Boston area to stay with generous relatives in their warm house. A return home followed by a boiler eruption which sent huge clouds of steam pouring up the stairs into the kitchen. A leaking washing machine.

Then, just six days after Nils came into this world, a readmission to the hospital because Abby had developed an infection. She and Nils have spent two days there. But as I write this, I just got the call that Abby got the “all-clear” and she and Bjorn and Nils are on their way home from the hospital.

What a wild first week in the life of this sweet family of four! I know all you moms are feeling with Abby right now. She has been simply amazing through it all. As I told her the day I left and her parents arrived to help out, my admiration for my daughter-in-law, which was always high, has even risen higher.

Also my gratitude for God’s hand of care and protection through all this. Even amidst a week none of us ever would have wished on a family bringing home a new baby, there have been so many “God moments.” Protection during the storm. Provision of my great brother and sister-in-law to not only provide a warm house but even turn the weekend into a house party, with great food and fun and visits from friends. Heat now restored in Bjorn and Abby’s home.
The gift of antibiotics to knock out infections that decades ago could have raged unabated. God’s timing that a connecting flight Bjorn had on a trip he was to take to Colorado was delayed in Chicago, allowing him time to get word of Abby’s infection and turn around and get home instead of traveling further west. Even a great experience with airline customer relations, with an immediate flight back to Boston and a waived change fee.

Above all, we praise God that Nils is whole and healthy and Abby regaining her strength. How much we have to be thankful for!

And oh yes, another praise I almost forgot. Some of you will remember Soren’s broken femur last summer and his two months in a body cast. Last Friday he had his 6-month checkup and was told his leg has healed so perfectly they didn’t even need to do x-rays.

What a gift to see him running and playing. He’s had a hard time seeing Mommy go back to the “hostipal.” But today he welcomes her home again—for good this time, we trust.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow!

Freeing Truth about You, Mom--and Your Kids!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 22:21:00 +0000

Jesus said it first: “…you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” (John 8:12) It’s also where we start in the first lesson of Heart Talk, which I hope those of you in Mom to Mom will remember.

And it’s essentially what author Leslie Leyland Fields does for parents in her most recent book: she sets parents free by bringing us all back to God’s truth. "Parenting Is Your Highest Calling" and 8 Other Myths That Trap Us in Worry and Guilt is the title. When I first heard it, I was a bit puzzled. Then I read an excerpt from the book in Christianity Today’s January 2010 issue (It’s the cover story) and knew this was one book I wanted to read.

It did not disappoint, and I highly recommend it to you—especially to those of you who might ever have thought you must be doing something wrong if your “mom job” doesn’t bring you unbroken joy and fulfillment 24/7. Or who felt guilty because you aren’t doing enough. Or who don’t always love your child unconditionally. Or who have concluded you obviously don’t have the right techniques because your children aren’t happy all the time, or don’t seem to have turned our perfectly. Or those of you who have wondered why—if God has called you to be a mom—the job seems so exhausting and overwhelmingly difficult.

Have I got most of you covered by now?

This is a very real book—one of the many things I love about it. Leslie Leyland Fields is a real mom (she has six kids). But she is also an honest mom. She is not afraid to share the very real struggles and challenges—as well as the joys—of her mom-life.

She is also a very interesting mom. Her six kids range from pre-school to college age. She lives on Kodiak Island, Alaska, and she and her family run a commercial fishing business in the summer. During the school year, she teaches in Seattle Pacific’s Master of Fine Arts program—which may explain her excellent writing style. Many of you know I was an English teacher in a former life, and it was a joy to find great writing and solid truth on parenting in the same book!
Best of all, though, this book is founded on balanced Biblical truth. As the author moves us away from myths that have grown up around the subject of parenting both from our culture and from the Church, she continually points us back to Biblical stories and principles that shed the light of God’s truth on our parenting.

Which brings me to my one quibble with this book. On p. 105, she lists all the verses she has found in both Old and New Testaments that speak to the raising of children, but inexplicably omits what I think of as a pivotal passage: Deuteronomy 6:1-9 and 20-25. Elsewhere (p. 49) she does refer to part of a parallel passage by citing Deuteronomy 11:19 as teaching us how to teach our children. But those of you in Mom to Mom know I have to ask how Deuteronomy 6 could possibly be left out of Biblical passages on parenting!

Other than that one exception, I found myself nodding and agreeing throughout this book. I kept thinking, “That sounds just like what we teach in Mom to Mom!”

Here are just a few of my favorite quotes, to whet your appetite:

“We cannot be Jesus; we can only need Jesus…We do the work of parents, which is to point our children to Jesus.” (p. 134-135)
“God is using our children to conform us to the image of His Son. . . . Our children reveal to us what we know we are: beggars before God.” (p. 26-27)
“This is what God wants most from all of us: our hearts. Godly parenting begins not in the rules we or other people make for our children but in pursuing a genuine relationship with God.” (p. 115)

Overall, Leslie Leyland Fields calls us back to solid reality about God, us, and our kids. Our children are, as we continually say at Mom to Mom, His first. God is not finished with them—or us!—yet. He loves them more than we do. We are called to be faithful—not necessarily “successful.” Ultimately, we are all called into relationship with Him first. As we get to know Him better through His Word, we will find, as Fields observes, that “God’s truths about parenting are as glorious and freeing as God Himself, while our own half-truths are as human and limited as we are…” (p. 9)

Fields describes her book (on p. 10) as “a deep gaze into the parenting heart of God, our Father.” He is our loving, merciful, grace-giving Father. What could be more freeing?

We Mean Well, But . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 18:39:00 +0000

“Our intentions are usually good. We mean well, but sometimes we get in our own way—and yours!”

That’s what one woman in a Mom to Mom group told me she’d like husbands to know about wives. Her words echoed in my mind as I looked out at the faces of the men Woody and I spoke to last Saturday. And when I had the opportunity to talk with a few of them afterward, I was even more convinced of how true these words are for husbands as well as for wives. Not all husbands and wives, to be sure—but so many of us!

The men seemed genuinely interested in learning how they could better love their wives and keep passion and romance in their marriages. Often they seemed confused as to what women really want. One man even asked afterward, “How can I say “I love you” to my wife so she really hears it and knows I mean it? Sometimes it just sounds sort of mechanical.”

Just the week before at Mom to Mom, women shared the ways they let their husbands know how they appreciate and admire them. My favorite story was from a woman who said she had recently been at her husband’s place of work—an auto body shop. It so happened that some of his work colleagues were there, and as he introduced her to them, the conversation allowed her to comment on what a great husband he was. She passed on a few compliments that just came naturally but were heard by his work buddies.

As much as she appreciates her husband, she had confessed to us at Mom to Mom that her pet peeve is that her car never seems to get the little dings and scrapes fixed in his busy shop. But! Funny thing…when the other men left, his first words to her were: “Honey, what was it you needed fixed on your car?”

The power of appreciation!

Which brings me back a little closer to home: on Saturday I shared with the men how much the little things mean to us women. I emphasized especially how much being appreciated means to us.

I also shared a “little thing” Woody had done last week that I really appreciated—and actually remembered to thank him for: on Wednesday mornings—garbage day at our house—he usually brings the trash barrels and recycle bin out to the driveway since they are heavy for me to move. When I got up last Wednesday (he had left much earlier), I saw to my surprise that he had also taken the trash bags out of the kitchen. Something I usually do but had forgotten. I thanked him when he came home that night, and he said, “They were really heavy this time, and I didn’t want you to hurt your back.”

That time I remembered to thank him. But then there was yesterday. A very unusual thing happened: Woody got home that night before I did. As I was scurrying around throwing things together for dinner, I was irritated that he didn’t get up to give me a kiss when I came in. After all, I do that when he comes home—but there he was, calmly sitting in his chair leafing through an oncology journal. And I was even more irritated that he didn’t—without being asked—bring the last groceries in from the car. As you can imagine, I managed to let him know how I felt—nicely, of course.

But what I failed to notice until this morning when I woke up—yes, this morning, after sleeping a full night between lovely clean sheets—was what he had done before I got home. Seeing unfinished tasks in our bedroom, he had emptied the laundry basket, put away the clean clothes, and had put the clean sheets on the bed—yes, without being asked! And what had I noticed last night?

So much for being right on top of appreciating my husband!

These might seem like pretty little things in the bigger scheme of life. But little things do matter, don’t they? Especially in a marriage. Your comments to my last entry expressed this eloquently. BTW, thank you to those who sent in comments. I was able to share parts of them last Saturday and they really hit the mark!

Little things... Expressing appreciation... The power of words...

Just some things to think about this Valentine’s week.

Which leads me to a word I wanted to leave you with. It came to me when I was thinking of a word I would use to describe Woody. (Try that for your husband some time!) It’s gracious. That’s the word. More on why that word came to mind some other time. But for now, it’s something I want more of.

Gracious speech.

A grace-filled life.

A grace-giving marriage.

It comes only from God, really. It’s my prayer for me and for you—and for our marriages.
Happy Valentine’s Day!

What Do You Wish He Knew?

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 20:03:00 +0000

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!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Fri, 29 Jan 2010 17:41:00 +0000

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?

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 18:34:00 +0000

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!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 14:46:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 17:58:00 +0000

“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!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 04:46:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 05:33:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 00:55:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 20:43:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 23:34:00 +0000

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!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 04:31:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 22:08:00 +0000

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."

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 17:03:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Anderson) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 20:15:00 +0000

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?