One Good Reason to Spoil Your Kids

“Mommy, will you tell us a story?" My three-year-old looked up at me, pleading. Her wispy hair lay fanned across a cotton pillowcase, and her eyes shone glossy in the lamplight.

“A story? Sure.” It was a typical bedtime request. My girls like to hear stories from my childhood, so I spin ordinary memories into fairy tales. They think this is fabulous entertainment.

“Once upon a time,” I launched into my standard opener, “there was a beautiful princess named Princess Becky. Every week, she went grocery shopping with her mom, Queen Nana. At the checkout aisle, Princess Becky was allowed to pick one treat. Sometimes she chose a candy bar, sometimes bubble gum, and it was always special because it was the only treat she got all week.”

“One treat?” My six-year-old daughter’s eyes bulged. “That’s all?”

“Oh, yes,” I nodded. “Just one a week. Princess Becky didn’t have chips and cookies in her house every day like we do.”

“Wow.” My daughter struggled to comprehend such hardship. Suddenly I thought of the two Hershey’s Kisses she ate that day, and the Oreo her sister gobbled after dinner. Plus the fruit snacks I gave them on the drive home from gymnastics, the suckers they got at the bank, and the vanilla cones we bought at our neighborhood drive-in last night.

Open our cupboards right now and you’ll find Sunchips, Cheez-Its, Raisinets, jelly beans, marshmallows, M&Ms and every variety of Goldfish made in America.

My mother never kept junk food in the house.

Am I spoiling my kids?

“Girls, maybe it’s time to start cutting back on the treats.”

“Nooooo! We like treats!”

“I like treats, too! But do you know what I like even better?” I tucked the blankets around their shoulders and kissed their cheeks. “I like you.”

“I love you, Mom,” my three-year-old whispered.

“I love you, too, Mom.” My six-year-old lifted her head a few inches off her pillow and reached for me. “Will you stay for a little bit?”

I caught fleeting thoughts of the dishes on the counter and the e-mails I’d planned to read. But I shoved them aside and snuggled on the bed between my girls.

“Okay. Just for a little bit.”

Maybe I could indulge my kids in less sugar. But there is one thing I refuse to ration.

Affection.

“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!” (1 John 3:1a)

Do you give love freely to your kids? What about forgiveness? And grace?

Understand that God does not skimp—he lavishes his love on us, his perfect, merciful, never-ending love. Did we earn it? Did we do all our chores and refrain from bickering and eat every green bean on our dinner plates? Usually not.

And yet he pours his great love into his children every day. So I want to do the same.

Yes, sometimes love means discipline, and sometimes it looks less like hugs and more like letting go. But however we express it, love should be the unlimited motivation for our every move in parenting, don’t you agree? I fail at this regularly. But I won’t be ashamed for making it my goal.

About those treats, however—I’m not too proud of that. So tonight I have a new story in mind. 

“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Princess Becky. And her favorite snack was carrots and celery, yum!”

Sweet dreams, my girls. Mom loves you.

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Bonus post! What do diapers and husbands have in common? This week I’m happy to be sharing blog space with my fellow M.O.M. Initiative mentor Julie Sanders, at her blog home, Come Have a Peace. Hop over to read my story, “Why Marriage Is Like Potty Training.”

If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like I Love You Lots and Cows, God Doesn’t Ration Candy Bars, and What’s Better Than a Bed Full of Teddy Bears?

Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Momma Notes, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Wifey Wednesday, Wedded Wednesday and Things I Can't Say.

Nobody Notices When I Sweep the Floor

“Great job on the siding, Bob!” We stood in our neighbor’s driveway admiring his new vinyl  exterior. A small crowd of friendly faces had wandered from summer yard work to enjoy an impromptu chat. This time of year, the conversation often centers on home improvement jobs.

“Hey, Joe, I saw you put up a new play set. How do the kids like it?”

“How big is that pool you installed in your yard, Dave?”

“Is that lumber in the garage for your deck expansion, Chuck? How’s that going?”

And I got to thinking of all the projects my husband does around the house—noticeable projects. The finished basement, the fresh stained fence. Brick landscape edging and a tidy cut lawn.

“My husband repaved the driveway, and all the neighbors commented on how nice it looked,” a friend told me recently. “How come nobody congratulates me for folding laundry?”

Amen sister. Why doesn’t a woman’s work get the same kudos as her man’s?

Don’t get me wrong—I realize some of you ladies sweat over glorious flowerbeds or climb the roof to hammer shingles yourselves. Bravo if you do.

But for many of us moms, our usual household contributions are a little more obscure.

Nobody notices when I sweep the floor.

Nobody applauds when I mix oatmeal for breakfast.

Nobody drives by our house to admire my sidewalk chalk drawings or the rebate forms I filled out and stuck in the mailbox.

Just once, I want my kids to say, “Mom! You did a fantastic job grilling this cheese sandwich! You are one seriously talented woman.”

But why?

Why do I need praise? Does it give my labor greater significance? Does it prove I’m a good mom?

Well, let’s consider this picture in Matthew.

“Jesus traveled throughout the region of Galilee, teaching in the synagogues and announcing the Good News about the Kingdom. And he healed every kind of disease and illness. News about him spread as far as Syria, and people soon began bringing to him all who were sick. And whatever their sickness or disease, or if they were demon possessed or epileptic or paralyzed—he healed them all. Large crowds followed him wherever he went—people from Galilee, the Ten Towns, Jerusalem, from all over Judea, and from east of the Jordan River,” (Matthew 4:23–25, NLT).

Wow. Talk about a hot topic in the neighborhood. Jesus displayed supernatural healing powers and drew swarms of followers everywhere he went. If anybody had the right to boast, Jesus surely did.

But do you know what comes immediately after this passage?

The Beatitudes.

“One day as he saw the crowds gathering, Jesus went up on the mountainside and sat down. His disciples gathered around him, and he began to teach them. . . . ‘God blesses those who are humble, for they will inherit the whole earth,’” (Matthew 5:1–2, 5, NLT, emphasis mine).

Really? Jesus just performed a spectacle of public miracles, and then he delivered a lesson on humility. Not praise. Not power or validation.

Humility.

What does that say about how we should approach our work?

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving,” (Colossians 3:23–24).

Praise from people doesn’t make our work more important. Knowing who we’re working for does. And God doesn’t just pat us on the back—he promises a reward! An inheritance! Can a friendly neighbor’s compliments come anywhere near as cool as that?

So let those men have their repaved driveways and their shiny green lawns. The Lord sees our laundry. He sees our grocery shopping and our scrubbed bathroom floors. Next time you flip that grilled cheese, ladies, tune your ears to imagine this—the Lord of the universe is cheering you on.

My child! You did a fantastic job!

Thank you for serving me today by taking care of your family.

You are one seriously talented woman.

I know—because I made you that way.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like Queen of the Castle: A Fresh Perspective on Housework; Sometimes the Laundry Just Needs to Get Done; and No, You Are Not Failing.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Momma Notes, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Wifey Wednesday, Wedded Wednesday and Things I Can't Say.

Three Things I Won't Tell My Children

I stood in the greeting card aisle scanning graduation cards. Funny, sappy, artsy or simple, they all carried the same pithy sentiments.

Spread your wings and fly.

If you dream it, you can do it.

Now is your time to shine, grad!

Do those words make you feel warm and fuzzy? Or, like me, do your raise your eyebrows?

I’m all for building my children’s confidence. But there’s a big difference between puffing up and pointing up. Here are three popular statements you won’t hear me saying to my kids.

1. You can be anything you want to be.
No, my precious girls, you will be exactly who God designed you to be—beautiful, unique, valued, and loved. He gave you certain gifts and abilities, chosen just for you by a perfect and purposeful God, and if you spend your life discovering and using those gifts wisely then you will be successful in the deepest sense.

Still, always remember that what you do is not who you are. You are a child of God, period (John 1:12). Don’t compare yourself to anybody else, and don’t for a second believe God was sleeping on the job the day your talents were doled out. You are you for a reason.

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well,” (Psalm 139:14).

2. Believe in yourself.
Believe first in your God who created you and is capable of doing amazing things through you (Philippians 4:13). Yes, you are powerful, more powerful than you know, because Christ’s power is at work within you.

“He replied, ‘If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you,’” (Luke 17:6).

3. You deserve to be happy.
Of course your mother wants you to be happy. But who in this world deserves it, when the wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23)? Praise the Lord, my darling girls, for grace. Understand that blessings aren’t your right; they’re a gift. And sometimes, although we might not see it at the time, our troubles can be a gift, too. 

“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal,” (2 Corinthians 4:17–18).

I have twelve years to shop for my own daughter’s graduation card. That should give me enough time to dust off my craft supplies and make one myself. Meanwhile, I’m committed to building my family’s self-esteem on a firm foundation and praying that my girls will love themselves because God loves them first.

And—I’m inserting a couple words into one of those cards I found.

Now is your time to shine YOUR LIGHT, grad!


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like How to Raise a Timid Child, I Love You Lots and Cows, and Wishing to Grow Up Too Fast.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Momma Notes, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Wedded Wednesday and Things I Can't Say.

Why I'm Not Raising Independent Kids

“Do you want to do drop-off today?” I glanced at my daughter’s face in the rear-view mirror. She scrunched her freckled nose, leaned back into her car seat and cracked a sly smile.

“Sure. I’m strong enough now.”

“Really?” My eyebrows shot up.

“Yep. I can do it.”

“Okay.” I veered to the school carpool line and shifted into park. My daughter unbuckled her seatbelt and stood up to go. I twisted toward the back seat, doubting her confidence.

Most days, I walk her into the building. She complains the door is too heavy; the middle school kids are too tall and intimidating; she wants one final kiss on the hand, one last hug before the bell rings. She craves my presence. My protection.

But this day, she chose courage.

“Do you have your backpack?”

“Yep.”

“If nobody holds the door open for you, I’ll park the van in the parking lot and run to help. Okay?”

“Okay, Mom. Bye.”

“Wait—give me a kiss!” I squeezed her shoulders and planted a peck on her cheek. “I love you. Have a great day at school.”

“I will, Mom. Bye!”

My eyes followed as she ran to the double glass doors, paused for just a second to wave back at me, then grabbed the handle and yanked hard, disappearing inside the building for the best hours of her day.

And my heart sank to my stomach.

Kindergarten.

Why doesn’t it get any easier? This wasn’t the first day of school, for crying out loud. It was one of the last. Summer break begins next week. And still, after nearly an entire academic year, I struggle to relinquish my precious girl to teachers and hot lunch and recess chatter.

I want to be with her. To know she’s happy and safe and well cared for. But she blossomed this year into a confident schoolgirl who jumps rope and reads chapter books and can suddenly open the door just fine on her own, thankyouverymuch.

So it’s time for me to start letting go.

Why?

Because the less she leans on me, the more she’ll need to lean on God.

And that is the ultimate goal of my parenting.

“Those who trust in themselves are fools, but those who walk in wisdom are kept safe,” (Proverbs 28:26).

I’m not raising my kids to be independent. Quite the opposite, I want them to be increasingly dependent—on God. Don’t you? By giving our children room to grow and stumble, we set the example that Mom depends on God first—to take care of them.

It’s not easy.

In the beginning of the school year, my daughter cried every day at lunch for two weeks because she missed me. Worse, she didn’t tell me about it, thinking I’d be disappointed in her. When a teacher finally clued me in, my aching mommy heart wanted to yank my baby out of school and spend September indulging her with chocolate ice cream cones in the safety of our fenced back yard.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I prayed. I prayed for her courage. I prayed for wisdom. I prayed for God to wrap his arms around her when I could not.

Then on the drive to school one day in early fall, my daughter sang her favorite Sunday school song. “Be strong! Joshua 1:9! Be strong and courageous, do not be terrified. Do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

“Sweetheart, that’s it!” I shouted from the driver’s seat. “You can sing that song to yourself when you’re walking to lunch. For the Lord your God is with you—even in the cafeteria!”

“Yeah!” Her eyes grew wide and she smiled. That afternoon, when she boarded our van at pick-up time, my soul rejoiced to hear these beautiful words: “It worked, Mom! I didn’t cry! God helped me be brave!”

And now here she is, nine months later, shrugging off her ol’ lady because she can do this kindergarten thing just fine. And I’m grateful.

Not because she doesn’t need me.

But because she’s learning where her real strength lies.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like When You Wish They’d Stay Little Forever, Nobody Loves Her Like I Do, and Kindergarten Is Not a Big, Green, Ugly Monster.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Momma Notes, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Wedded Wednesday, Women Living Well and Things I Can't Say.

How to Get the Life You Always Wanted

“You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!” (Isaiah 26:3, NLT)

I sat on the edge of my daughter’s twin bed, stretching long legs across a pink hoot-owl comforter. Dusk seeped through the window blinds, shedding just enough fading daylight for my eyes to scan the familiar scenery.

In a bookcase on the wall, storybook spines lined the bottom shelf below stacks of cardboard puzzle boxes and early reader paperbacks. Stuffed animals, Velcro shoes, and a fraying jump rope lay strewn across the floor. In the corner of the room, a dollhouse held mini furniture lovingly arranged for a plastic family of six. Above it all, hazy blue Dream Light stars glowed on the ceiling.

I listened to the slow, steady breathing of two little girls drifting to sleep. And it occurred to me—this is as good as it gets.

I am blessed.

But. Rewind a few hours, and my mind raced with different thoughts. Grumpy thoughts.

Dirty dishes on the table. Deadlines on my desk. Bills to pay. Groceries to buy.

That leak in the ceiling. Paint chips on the wall. Dust on the baseboards and juice in the carpet.

When can we build a new house? When can I afford a cleaning lady? Will my toddler ever ditch those Pull-Ups? How will I find time to bake cookies for the school picnic? And why are flights to Disney World so crazy expensive?

Is it summer yet?

That’s when I’ll be happy. When I have those things, carve that spare time, tie these loose ends and tidy this clutter. Then I’ll be content. Then I can rest.

Oh, really?

Sitting in my girls’ room in the twilight, I realized—I’ve got it all backwards.

Rest first.

Take a break from running and complaining. Breathe in, breathe out. Pray. Then I’ll open my eyes and discover—I’m already content.

A dear friend once told me she’s living her dream. Four kids crowd her house, the budget is tight, noise and mess are constant, and yet she reminds herself daily that this is what she wanted.

When did I forget? Fifteen years ago, floundering through our early post-college years, my friend and I both longed to be loved and settled. We wanted husbands, a mortgage, and our own laundry machines. We dreamed of ordinary family life, not because it’s glamorous, but because it’s meaningful.

And now I have it.

So what’s the problem?

Worry.

Distractions.

Coveting.

Complaints.

Infections, all of them. They inflame my perspective and steal my joy. But I’ve discovered a cure.

Stillness.

If I really sit quiet for a minute and take a look around, I can see with crystal clarity—I’m already living the life I always wanted. It might be messy, yes. Cluttered, hectic, and imperfect, absolutely.

But it’s beautiful. And it’s mine.

I don’t need to focus ahead to that elusive house upgrade or a Florida vacation. I’m in the center of God’s blessings right here, right now. Who knew they’d smell like peanut butter and leaky Pull-Ups? Sometimes I think we expect God to show up all shiny and clean. But the truth is he’s in the muck with us every day. We just have to focus our hearts to find him.

So will you join me? Let’s shut off our racing brains for a minute and take a look around. I hope you’ll see what I see.

We’re already blessed.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like If You Give a Mom a Minute, On Dreams, Contentment and Spaghetti, and What’s Better Than a Bed Full of Teddy Bears?

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Momma Notes, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Wedded Wednesday and Things I Can't Say.

Every Day Is Mother's Day

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mommy.” My three-year-old looked up at me, smiling wide. “Oh!” her eyes popped, “No, I mean, Happy Muzzah’s Day!” She giggled, and my heart swelled.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” I crouched on my heels, cupped her chin and brushed my thumb across her cheek. Had this been May 12, her remarks would’ve been sweet enough. But Mother’s Day was still a week away, so I chuckled. 

Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day. . . eh, who’s counting? In my daughter’s mind, the sentiment was clear. Both holidays celebrate love.

And I am the first love of her life.

So Monday through Sunday last week—about twenty random times a day—my little one chirped, “Happy Muzzah’s Day!” or sometimes “Happy Valentine’s Day!” And her words puffed up my soul.

Because why shouldn’t every day be Mother’s Day? After all, parenting isn’t an isolated Hallmark event. It’s an everyday adventure.

It’s the laundry baskets overflowing with muddy socks and shirts. It’s the carpet caked with Play-Doh and Dora band-aids taped on knees.

It’s standing in line, tapping our feet, while the pharmacy mixes medicine. It’s chasing naked bottoms into bubbly tubs, and trotting two steps behind training wheels.

Parenting applauds the loudest at T-ball and ballet. It breaks up sibling squabbles. It clips coupons for Visine. It gives more than it takes, and it prays, prays, prays.

So when should a mother’s credit be due?

In the hour a wrinkled baby is born beautiful into this world.

And again the day that baby first sits tall in a kindergarten desk; crosses the stage in a cap and gown; laughs as she stuffs a satin skirt into her wedding limousine.

Someday when that baby holds her own sweet baby swaddled in her arms.

That is Mother’s Day.

It’s not something we do once a year. It’s a lifetime of who we are.

“Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: ‘Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.’ Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. Give her the reward she has earned, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate,” (Proverbs 31: 28–31).

So although the calendar says Mother’s Day has come and gone, I know better. Because today, I get to do it all over again.

I get to be a mom.

And so do you.

Happy Muzzah’s Day!


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like When You Wish They’d Stay Little Forever, On Dreams, Contentment and Spaghetti, and I Love You Lots and Cows.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Wedded Wednesday and Things I Can't Say.

When Your Oven Blows Up, Bake Cupcakes

Sometimes the best laid plans blow up in your face—literally.

Last weekend, I co-hosted a wedding shower for my future sister-in-law. My job was to bake the cupcakes. I’m talking from-scratch chocolate lime batter with homemade buttercream icing and sugar cookie toppers frosted to look like lime slices.

In other words, a two-day project.

For weeks leading up to the shower, I scoured Pinterest, browsed cake supply shops, and baked three test batches to tweak the recipes just right. So when Thursday (a.k.a. cookie baking day) finally arrived, I was as pumped as a contestant on Cupcake Wars. Let’s DO this thing!

Sugar cookie dough—mixed, chilled, rolled and cut—check! I popped the cookie sheet in the oven, dusted flour off my apron, and turned toward the sink to scrub mixing bowls.

But then. Zap! Bam! Bam! Zap!

I spun around and saw fireworks flying inside my oven. White and blue electric bombs flashed and sizzled behind the door glass. I sucked in my breath and watched, helpless and horrified, as the heating coil burst into flames.

Noooooo! This cannot be happening.

Three dozen cupcakes due Saturday morning—and my oven just blew up. Do you think God was trying to tell me something?

I wondered. Maybe I shouldn’t bake these cupcakes. What if God is protecting me from poisoning everyone! Even my co-hosts encouraged me to drop the spatula and call a bakery. Don’t stress yourself out, they said. Nobody will know the difference.

Nobody but me. I’d worked so hard and party-planned for so long, darn it, I wanted some spectacular baked goods to show for it. So I drove seven blocks to my husband’s grandfather’s kitchen and baked those crazy cookies anyway. The next day, I hijacked his oven again to bake the cupcakes. That evening, halfway through beating an enormous bowl of frosting, my handheld mixer burned out and spun wafts of electric smoke up my nostrils—but I chose to laugh instead of cry.

Call me stubborn.

Or call me faithful.

“For nothing is impossible with God,” (Luke 1:37).

Are you in a tough spot right now? Do the circumstances surrounding you look impossible to climb? Maybe they’re not a sign from God to quit, but rather an invitation from God to do great things.

Think about it.

Noah built an ark.

Moses walked across the dry sea floor.

Joshua demolished Jericho’s walls with trumpets and shouts.

Mary raised Jesus—God in the flesh—as her firstborn child.

What if they had said, forget it. Can’t do it. Too many obstacles, too much opposition.

What if they had looked only at their circumstances, and not at their God?

I know my cupcakes weren’t miracle material. But they did get me thinking about how easily we can give up and call it God’s will. Why shouldn’t we be inconvenienced, work a little harder, or pour our aching hearts into something that matters? Maybe the most worthwhile pursuits are the ones that require us to walk with God through the {kitchen} fire.

Saturday morning, I arrived at that wedding shower carrying three dozen labors of chocolate cupcake love. And they were limetastic. So the next time your proverbial oven blows up, remember this. God might not be telling you to quit. He’s simply teaching you to persevere.

If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like It Hurts Because I Love You, How Big Is God, Daddy Can Fix It, and When God Doesn’t Give You What You Ask For.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Wedded Wednesday and Things I Can't Say.