Marriage Warfare

I'm disappointed, and admittedly, angry, confused and saddened. I have few answers to my complicated questions: How does love turn to hate? How does commitment and long-suffering suddenly become replaced with infidelity, betrayal and divorce? Marriage has become such a trivial joke that I fear the next generation won't have a clue what it's really about. Or perhaps it will become obsolete altogether; I mean after all, what is the point of taking vows to love and cherish when the majority only mean unless things get tough...then I'm outta here!

For the past few months I've been shocked. More and more married couples with young children are splitting up. Lately, it's been stories about the cheating husband with the live-in nanny (that doesn't even speak English), or the one who runs off to the Caribbean with his new girlfriend, all of whom leave their wives and children behind to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. It's not always the husband, since apparently, the latest trend is housewives suddenly deciding they are gay and leaving their families for Susie down the street. And each time, my heart breaks. Surely they know what statistics say about children of divorce. Surely, they realize how selfish, callous and cruel their actions are. Surely, it keeps them up at night.

But more importantly, where is the outrage? Other than a befuddled shake of the head and a good gossip session, there doesn't seem to be any. Another broken family; what else is new? Yawn.

Now, with every tabloid and entertainment show announcing the pending divorce of Jon and Kate (plus 8), I'm disgusted. I've followed the show for years and even read Kate's book. I loved the Christian values and dependency on God they seemed to have. Yes, Kate could be controlling and bitchy at times; yes, Jon could be a clueless doormat at times, but that was okay because they were in it for the long haul. For better or worse. After all, they have EIGHT souls depending on that; right?

Although I truly wish each person good will, I hope their show is cancelled. I hope they are so humiliated and humbled that they lie on their faces broken before Him. After being stripped of their pride, perhaps then, will they be able to hear His voice. My prayer is that they can. My prayer is that they will take up their armour and fight...not like a sissy...but a warrior that belongs to the Great I Am. My prayer is that they stand on the truth of His word and defeat the enemy.

I don't have a perfect marriage by ANY stretch of the imagination...and at times, it's still a work in progress...BUT my best moments are when Jesus heals my brokenness. My best moments are when I put my husband first. My best moments are when I actually make the words of the bible be a living testimony. My best moments are because of who He is, not who I am.

Even though they will never know it, a mighty 5 foot tall warrior is praying for the families and marriages of America. The battle WILL be won!

Brotherly Love

Since I was raised an only child and missed the wonderful world of "sibling rivalry", I am constantly baffled by the fighting and hateful words that my children use towards one another. In an effort to have a kinder and gentler environment, I've been trying to encourage the boys to use more positive, sweet and nice words with one another. Perhaps they are taking it a bit too far.

As we are driving to camp a few days ago, Andrew announces from the back seat, "Hey, sorry, guys...I just tooted." Alex yells from the front seat, "Gross, that STINKS!" Aidan, remembering my pep-talk on brotherly love, proclaims from his car seat, "Oh, I think it smells good, Andrew!" Andrew says sweetly, "Thank you, Aidan." I roll down the car windows in disgust. Complimenting each other on their gassy explosions was not what I had in mind.

Even as I am writing this, I am once again confronted with the painful fact that my words are spoken in vain. As Andrew and Aidan are playing Lego's, each one is excitedly showing me their new creations. I appropriately ooh and awe over the little blocks of plastic that are supposed to resemble a castle or an airplane. "Do you like it, Mommy?" Andrew asks. "Oh, yes!" I reply enthusiastically. "Do you like mine?" Aidan asks curiously. "No, it's weird." Andrew remarks before I can say anything. Aidan is crushed and I am baffled. I want to shake him and yell, "This is the boy who even likes the smell of your farts, for crying out loud, can't you at least like his stupid Lego airplane?!" So much for brotherly love.

Strawberry Pancakes

So many wonderful events have taken place since I last wrote. I attended Ronald's graduation from high school in Tampa, I picked out new appliances for our kitchen, I've been fishing and boating at my in-laws' lake house and, of course, I celebrated a marvelous Mother's Day.

Since Alex is an early riser, he was the first boy to greet me and wish me a fabulous day...and to my delight, surprise me with breakfast in bed! Even though I would have preferred to sleep in a little, he decided that 6:30 would be just the right time to surprise me with strawberry pancakes and orange juice! He even put the cards he and his cohorts had made on the tray for me to read at my leisure. What a sweetie! I think he might make a good husband someday....or a good chef at Denny's...you never know.

The cards are my favorite because they always make me laugh. According to Andrew, my favorite thing to do is blog and sleep, and Alex graciously commented on my youthful 29 years of age, while Aidan made me a blue hand print and drew a likeness of me sans the neck. Rod sent me roses from he and the boys...but Andrew insisted he knew nothing about it...and asked if I had a boyfriend. He was really confused when I told him it was daddy. We had brunch at our favorite kid-friendly restaurant with our mothers and laughed and shared our day together. It was perfect. What a privilege it is to be a mother; I hope I never take it for granted.

Of course, summer is fast approaching and I'll have to re-read this blog to remind myself that motherhood really is a blessing and not a curse. When I feel my nerves being frazzled to the core, I'll have to repeat my new mantra: "Strawberry pancakes. Strawberry pancakes. Strawberry pancakes." I will either gain 10 pounds or be a much sweeter and gentler mom...time will only tell.

If I Can Make It Here...I Can Make It Anywhere!

I just returned from the city that never sleeps, and as it turns out, neither did I. A whirlwind of a trip with my 3 traveling companions, childhood friends that I reconnected with on Face Book, has left my body feeling much older than it's 40 years. I have never been so jetlagged...hmmmmm....the swine flu, perhaps? But I digress.... Anyway, it was a trip full of laughter; especially in the wee hours of the night, which was so good for the soul (but not my bladder). If you've had children, you understand; right? It was also a trip of sadness as we comforted our friend whose father unexpectedly passed away the night we arrived in NY. It was a trip of reconnection and nostalgia and funny stories. A trip that will always hold cherished memories, inside jokes (What's that smell? It's New Jersey and Those aren't your abs!) and life-changing events. It was a chance to be young, carefree and silly again!

Yes, after 4 busy, fun-filled days and 3 sleepless nights, I can honestly say..."If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere!" Thanks, girls for inviting me! I had the time of my life. When is our next trip?

Experience Beauty

These past few days in Texas have been unusually beautiful. It is the kind of weather where one just wants to bask in the glorious sunshine, fill the lungs with fresh air and smile. The earth is bursting with delicate flowers from seeds planted month's ago. It's as if God is granting us a tiny glimpse of His paradise; not just on occasional Spring days, but every day, forever and ever...and ever! How gracious and merciful is He that even among the thorns, a perfect rose blooms. I know I couldn't bear life's cruel hardness without the beauty to keep me going. I want to be thankful for these simple, yet miraculous, pleasures of life. I want to be still and experience beauty. Really experience it.

I'm reminded of Romans 8:28: "All things work together for good for those who love the Lord." Even during the cruelness and unfairness of life, ALL things work together for good. I love that! Believers aren't immune to hard times, yet we have the comforting assurance that God is walking with us through the storm. He will work it ALL out for good...if not only to glorify Him, because, after all, He placed the roses among the thorns.

To friends battling cancer: The war you are facing is heavy. Don't grow weary but praise Him for what is yet to come. Put on your spiritual armour and fight knowing His blood is covering you.

To a single mom whose husband is in prison: Lean on His strength to carry you through this difficult season. Cry on His shoulder, then wipe away your tears and stand on the truth of His promises.

To all the Americans who have lost their jobs: Strip away your pride until your heart is naked before Him. Do not worry about tomorrow but cast your cares on Him. He is the Master of your finances.

To loved-one's suffering from depression: Open your weary eyes and search for Him. He is there, crying with you and washing your feet. Take His hand and walk beside the Prince of Peace....for His burden is light and His yoke is easy. Share this love with another, and your pain will be gone.

To anyone who is reading this: Experience the beauty He has graciously, lovingly and thoughtfully given you. You are loved. Bask in that knowledge.

Healing

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Rod had knee surgery on Tuesday, (remember the ski trip?...yeah, torn ACL on the first day) and watching him go through the process of recovery made me realize that healing wounds (emotional or physical) become the hardest part of the journey. After three C-sections and a very painful tummy-tuck in less than a decade, I am no stranger to the agonizing, frustrating and slow process of healing. Although brutal at the time, the mind somehow forgets the pain; the body heals and scars fade. Ironically, physical pain, once gone, is easy to forget...but emotional pain somehow lingers and can, if not dealt with, grow even more caustic. Wounds of the heart penetrate deeper. Perhaps this is why God tells us to guard our hearts; He knows the consequences are costly.

Watching my husband get prepped for surgery took me back all those years ago when my own father, at age 42, was about to become the first heart transplant recipient in the state of Florida. The hospital was buzzing with excitement, fear, ambivalence (there were protesters outside chanting ignorance) and the media was alert and ready to record it all. At 16, and too immature to really understand the enormity of it all, I felt more like a spectator than a participant....like somehow, it wasn't real and I would wake up from a dream. I can only imagine how my father felt. He was only 42 and this was his only hope for survival. WOW! That age, at the time, didn't seem so young...but now, it seems devastatingly so.

Without my Jesus, I don't know how a person could get through it...and he wasn't a believer! However, the most precious moment I had with my father was right before he went into the operating room. With tears flowing down my cheeks, I took my father's hand, bent down close to his ear, and asked him to recite a prayer of salvation. Looking back, he was heavily sedated and probably had no idea what he was even saying, but for a young, scared girl, I needed to know his heart was right with the Lord. His heart. Although, most organs in the human body are necessary for our survival, none is more important than the heart. To me, it's where our soul is. I wanted this new heart to not only be vital in keeping him alive, but also receptive to the Lord. Although I'll never really know, until my death, if my father accepted Christ that day, I do affirm his heart was more tender to receiving Him after that. After all, it has taken me this long to really know Him and I have essentially believed all my life. Hard-headedness truly runs deep in our veins!

So...here's to Rod healing physically and spiritually. With God's mercy and grace, both will be mended to and in His timely will.

Where the Heart Is

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The Lord says he doesn't look at one's outward appearance, but at the heart. He isn't looking for a perfect person, but rather, what character and intentions lie beneath the facade. To me, it is so important that My God knows my heart, and He is pleased with what he sees. I want to instill this God-awareness in my children, and hopefully, raise men of integrity. As I tuck them in at night, my prayers are for them to never cause the Holy Spirit sorrow by the wrong intentions of their hearts. Then, the Lord revealed to me that my prayers are indeed being heard and answered.

The other day Alex came home and told me he got a "good citizen" sticker while in the cafeteria. Which means, if a teacher notices good deeds or random acts of kindness towards another person, she rewards the child with this sticker of praise. He went on to explain how he noticed a boy sitting by himself in the cafeteria and raised his hand to ask a teacher if he could move to sit by him. (They aren't allowed to move once they are seated. ) The teacher said to wait and if after everyone made it through the lunch line, the boy was still alone, he could move. He waited and watched; no one sat by the boy. Alex got up, packed up his lunch, moved away from his comfort-zone of friends, and sat by the lonely boy. After listening to his story, I just stared at my 8-year-old in disbelief. How could he, at such a young age, already have more character than most adults I know? I embraced him, kissed his little cheeks and stared into his hazel eyes. "You are a boy after God's heart; I have never been so proud," I said. "Most importantly, God is proud."

Realizing that God hand-picked me to be these boys' mother seems, at times, to be a daunting task. My confidence sometimes waivers...what if I'm not apt enough? After all, I'm too impatient, too self-fish, too inexperienced...but then I remember David. A lowly Shepard boy, whom God hand-picked to be the King of Israel; not because of what he was, but who he was. WOW! Thankfully, my heart knows to whom I belong...humbly, His servant. I am up to the task indeed! I am HIS.