Mother Suffering

When my mom passed away I was an absolute novice at grief and loss.  Matt took me on a walk about a week after her home-going:  just circled the block right out our front door.  I leaned on him like I was recovering from some major surgery or devastating sickness, us (both 27) walking the pace of 90 year olds.  I couldn’t move any faster.  Those first days I could barely breathe.  But I could cry in church and lay my head down on Matt’s shoulder and he would hold me tight and it was alright and nobody acted like I was the least bit improper.   They knew.

I knew nothing about planning a funeral. I’d never even cared for a friend who’d experienced loss.  I wouldn’t have known how.  But I was blown away by the friends who somehow knew.  They sent flowers.  They brought food and just sat with me in the afternoons on the way home from work.  They wrote cards- short cards, few and simple and totally loving words.  They shared their memories and snapshots of my mama.  They loved her with me and they loved me.  I was surrounded and upheld and it’s all a cherished Ebenezer in my life to this day.   

That was almost twelve years ago.  I birthed four babies soon after she left (in the span of 5 years.)  I wanted her to tell me how to do this motherhood thing.  I wanted her to tell me I could do it and that she would help me.  I wanted her with me, her hand stroking my hair with mother-blessing, infusing me with the courage I needed so badly.  

I’ve been at this motherhood thing for more than ten years now.  I’m privileged to see the daily feedings of my little multitude at our table and it strikes me as a miracle of grace three times a day (plus snacks).  I get to see Him soothing stormy seas souls too- when by faith, He stands over us and speaks “Hush…Peace… Be still” and we can receive His calm and make peace and make joy together again.  

Still, it’s in picking up the leftovers at the end of each miraculous day, and sometimes between quarrels and boxing matches of various kinds and alternating contestants throughout the day, that I question, “Why, amidst so many miracles and obvious blessings, would there be so much painful fallout from our lives together?"  The crumbs and shards of my own brokenness- and theirs-  seem to be the bulk of the leftovers that fill my basket, even with all these repeated miracles we witness together- the daily grace that sustains us.  

I told a friend a few days ago “I’m not one of those brave moms, I’m too sensitive and weak.”  I’ve experienced grief and, Really? I’d call this stuff of motherhood “suffering"?  Simply the daily ordeal of bickering and meanness and madness and a few slammed doors and stomping away and the foolishness and “can you please try to remember what I said just a minute ago?” and, “well, then...can you please do it?” …. Yep.  It is for sure a kind of suffering for me. 

One of the things I’ve learned about grief is that my thoughts turn to mush.  Reason and rationale all blur with emotion and numbness and pain and nothing is left coherent.  And this is definetely true of my motherhood struggles.  Processing sometimes seems rational but for much of the mess of my heart, I have to admit that I don’t always see things rightly and I need Jesus, need to cling tight, for however this storm blows and whatever I feel.  Storms often feel stronger and scarier than they really need to be….  Cling to Christ, Jillian.  

Sometimes the only English I hear all day is our children's occasional gladness, splattered with the beating and bruising of sibling bullying.  (And moms don’t have to move to China to find this true for them too.)  It’s bullying alright…  except that they’re constantly rotating roles between pharisee-abuser and victim.  And if that doesn’t break me down, the utter foolishness can crumble that last whole pieces of me to dust.  “Buddy, you’re how old and did you really think that dangle-twirling the craft-trash can on your toes while you read at the couch would go well?” And I would probably be strong for it other days, but sometimes a good kid line is like a straw to this camel… “Sweetheart, mama’s cooked (what feels like) 4,000 meals this week and washed (approximately) 5,000 dishes and we won’t go into the laundry or the guests or the languages swirling in my brain and the burdens breaking my heart and I’m tired, darling.   Can you tell me about the snail in the puddle after I finish this sentence?"

I know that I’m still just beginning at this til-death journey of motherhood.  There’s more to come, more joys and sorrows.  And I know this too:  this is hard.  

And guilt makes it harder.  Because how else have my kids so perfected these patterns?  So now not only do I have to listen to bickering and the far too frequent nagging drip of dishonor and disrespect, but I also have to admit that I’ve modeled all this complaining and overreacting and impatience for them, all this gunk that they’ve learned so well.  

But I’ve got to call myself to some clear perspective: I have fantastic kids.  They are growing to listen and love and show honor to me in great ways and in hard pinches when they’d much rather go their own way.  They aren’t perfect, just like their mom and dad, but we’re growing in grace together and it is a joy to be family together much of the time.  There is just this deep ugly root that strikes harder than anything else in us right now- this sibling rivalry-bickering thing.  There's pharisee-ism and volcanic overreactions and complaining and boasting and fussing too... but this one is our biggie and I can’t seem to get under it.  Oh but He knows…. Cling to Him.  

The thing is, for all this sorrow and confusion, I feel no freedom to cry in public and I don’t get to take slow walks for the pain.  And yes, of course, I probably just need to grow up about all of this. 

And it breaks me to write any of this because I know far too well that there can be, should be, might be solutions to all of these troubles.  If I would only read this book (This is The plan, The book on parenting and it’s all you need and then it will all be better…).  If I would just follow-through and always be consistent.  (Which would be more doable if my kids were consistent with their trials and tribulations rather than pitching new ones at me faster than (insert the name of speedy awesome pitcher that a baseball wife like me ought to know.))  I laughed when I saw the blog headline “six words to stop sibling rivalry” but I clicked on it just to see… Seriously?  It was sweet, but it wasn’t a joke.   Apparently, all I need to say to them is “How can you make this better?”

There’s something about this kind of struggle that others don’t acknowledge with caring eyes or a soft hand on your shoulder.   We are a public nuisance in our bicker mode, so I get it.   But the public shame I hear (and fear) doesn’t help either.  “Man, that lady’s kids are loud!” and “That sounds like fingernails on a chalk board.” (Why, you’re right.  That’s *Exactly* what it sounds like.  And I would give just about anything to silence it, believe me, please.)  And why is “dear, you’re in a hard stretch” not the approach we often take with each other?   And how about crying a little together? And which mom in my shoes isn’t already trying all she possibly can to make things better already?   

Who would ever respond to the grieving me above by saying “oh, your mom died?  Well mine is still alive and she’s wonderful.”  I’m grateful no one said anything like that to me 12 years ago.   But let’s not miss the similarity to lines like, “Oh, your kids bicker?  I don’t even have to tell my kids to be kind…”  

Mercy, Lord.   

I am one grateful sinner that all this mess is exactly what the Gospel is for.  

Forgiveness for my failures and comfort and hope and help and sure promises for the future.  Faithful love to bind up all of our brokenness and bind us together in Christ.  I have all the promises of God and that actually is more than enough to combat all of our sinful attitudes and patterns, all exponentially multiplied (which is the formula for family.)  

This little post is equal parts clinging-to-Christ and soul-honest-lament, and it isn’t complete without me squaring up and staring down my own soul with the hard questions:  Maybe I’m too hungry for compassion and I really should be harder after solutions, better methods, communication, or better yet, maybe I only need to be more earnest in prayer for my children?  Maybe I need to own up to my responsibility to model all this needed peace better for them, somehow?  And how does a mom whose preached too many sermons at her kids, point them yet again, effectively, to the Savior who is the Only One who can do the miracle in us that we most desperately need?

Matt often has to talk me down from new plans and extremes.  And maybe that’s sone of what makes this so hard?  There’s no fixing it, just promise-clinging to make it through.  Because the best that I can see of this mess, is that there’s no honest, easy solution.  There’s just grace and that can’t be called easy and it sure isn’t cheap.  But it’s the toughest stuff in the universe I think… and exactly what our bicker battles need and its the best I can dream of: trusting God’s promises and presence with me- and holding tight for the ride.    He was faithful in the wilderness for 40 years to a people who'd dare complain straight against him when he'd just blown open the Red Sea to save them and he’s still faithful and patient and abounding in love for me, for us, today.  

Hold Fast, Jill.  We are going to make it, by His grace.  To see reasons for joy right here, right now.  To healthier patterns.  To saner years.  To build this family on the strength of His truth and look back with joy and gratefulness for all of it.

And because I have to keep things simple, short enough to post up on the fridge, if I really need to remember it.... and because I *really* need to remember this... I’ll preach our simple course of action to myself yet again:

Start clinging to God's promises... roots deep in the Truth of His Word.

Ask for wisdom (James 1:5)

Love them.  (Be Patient.)

Model the peace of Christ in you, for them. 

Teach them to choose to do hard and holy things. 

Pursue their joy.  Encourage gratitude.  (Because those two are inseparable.  Thanks AV)  

Speak slowly, calmly, kindly.  Smile deep, breathe deep and fill their eyes and hearts with your love.)  

Listen long. (It will probably involve snails and poop and plotless story lines but their might also be some confession and secret dreams shared and precious prayers.)

Serve humbly, selfless.  (Them above you.) 

Be firm (and probably slow) in authority and discipline, with compassion...
Compassion. Before. Consequences. 
Preach the Gospel!  Live, Give the Gospel message of grace.

Be quick to ask for forgiveness because you’re going to need it too.

You will fall down (don’t be surprised).  Get back up again, grateful for the Gospel that gives you forgiveness and life.  

Keep a song in your heart… and keep clinging on...

Related:  another mom’s heart:  The Joy and Sorrow of Parenting

The Core of our Home

I think this first draft was completed by mid November last year.  It just needed a few more edits.  Then there were holidays and a few weeks of no internet and then we travelled 

Finally, it's post-able!

I remember the guy who exhorted my high school-age crowd to stoke the fire of our hearts in worship.  He shared about his wife and how he chose to keep his vows even if he wasn't feeling a flame all burning hot for her.  Sometimes because he wasn't feeling that spark, that was his best indicator that it was time to bring home some flowers or new music as a gift specifically to bless her and equally, to reignite passion in him for what he is vowed and committed to: to reignite joy for what he truly does cherish and wants to delight in more.

There are countless, important ways to apply this in life.  Out of all the messages I heard growing up in church, for some reason that one little loaf has been a lunch the Lord has fed me with over and over again.  It's pretty plain, but He's multiplied it in my life like only He can do.

And I've found myself surprised this fall to find it going farther than I knew, yet again.  In worship and in marriage, my vows need to be guarded and guided with intentionality, proactivity.  I'm finally seeing that the same blessing is there to be had in motherhood too: a holy and blessed commitment to choose joy and serve up joy for our kids as their Mom.

Grandma and Vivi at the merry-go-round in the park

Just after the music ended and she had to be pulled off her pony...  Exactly the moment when she heard me say, "Vivi, the merry-go-round guy said you can get back on for another spin."  

I was thinking of this post a few weeks ago, imaging it titled "That lesson I'm learning from Grandma." Dale and Mary were with us for two weeks earlier this fall.   Matt's mom, Mary, has this gift down.  The woman is a joy warrior who intentionality picks up each of our kids and shakes off their grumps and fusses and speaks to each heart how they are especially loved.  (OK, she lacks the blow-open-the Red-Sea power of God so occasionally even she hasn't been able to calm down a bicker battle- we do have our share of doozies).  Still, she seeks each of her grandkids out, to hug them deeply, to look into their eyes and ask them how they're doing and watch them share their drawings and lego creations and listen to their stories (even the forever long, plotless wolf stories:  "and then he... and then... and then...").   She gives joy, creates joy in a way that changes the tone of our kids' hearts and of our home.

As I reflected on our time with Grandma and the ever-steady blessing that Grandpa is in our lives too, the blur of memories, fun, gifts, candy, and laundry they left after their visit finally settled into seeing for me a few weeks after they headed back to the states.



Joy is a choice.  (Yea, I knew that before... but I see it better now.)  

And I want it like a solid ring on my finger, binding my heart and soul to a vow of holy, chosen joy.  I want this beautiful thing as the backbone of our home.  I want the miracle of joy in the midst of our crazy kid, messy mess.  I want it for us and for our kids and for the world around us to see the lighthearted freedom, the laugh at the days to come and laugh at this spilled-milk world, kind of joy living right here, with us.  

Tickle tackle in the living room...

...that ended with a stinky stink bomb out that little, red velvet back-side!

This isn't just a canned happy feeling, "ignorance is bliss" blindness,  and it's not a matter of random acts of kindness or loving yourself enough.   I won't have the strength or energy for this most days.  But I'm not the Source.  Joy is a gift of the Saving God, purchased for us with his own blood.  It's why He's commanded us to serve one another above ourselves ( Romans 12:10) so that He can bring it about.  Joy is the stuff of His heart and His kingdom.  

And joy isn't the first of His fruits...  it's listed second to love as the fruit of His Spirit.   I'm just thinking that where there is joy, where we're actually living out the Sunday School lesson-  Jesus, Others, Yourself-  that's going to be when we're living filled by and fueled with His love.  Joy shows us that Love is Here. 

For us this fall, there's been a heap of joy to be had and even the help of simply aiming for JOY as I've been learning to better pursue my kids individually.   This is what Grandma modeled so well.   I've had a slim vision for years that my job is to be the party planner and to plan for their joy.  Yes.  Plural joy is a celebration and I hope we're always ready for that.  Generally speaking, I think we've done ok on this part.  But to bring it home, bring it deep and singular, for just two of us at a time, personal, that's the joy I'm finding now.  

There's a small tribe of these treasures (only four) and yet even in their little plurality they can feel like an overwhelming majority to me.  But oh what joy to pursue my kids individually. Hugs and greetings in the morning, snuggles in the kitchen, hand holds and "thanks you-s" and listening long and "hows it going?"  I don't want to take for granted that these precious people live in my home!   I want to point them toward the joy of giving thanks to the Lord for our moments together, for the blessings and even the skinned knees and the hard lessons too.  I so want to treasure these moments here and now with these fast-growing, fast-changing, eternally exquisite lives.  

The Way to Finish Strong.... and Start Over Again

It's silly, I'm sure, but I need to remind myself fairly often of some things that are embarrassingly simple.  Today I need to remember and know this....  This side of eternity, there is no arriving.   I have every reason to be content and glad and profoundly soul-satisfied..... and to keep striving for more.  

I have to remind myself of this as this year winds down and I think back over all my dreams for 2013 and "how am I going to make it in 2014?"  Because it really is true and it should be a happy thing to remember:  our work will never be done.   How mistaken to let that be a frustration!  Let it be comfort and confirmation to my very good, calling....  to serve with joy.  

So... the way to finish this year strong? J.I. Packer has these sweet words in his latest book,    Weakness is the Way.  (p 31-32)

"Whether we are at home [in heaven] or away [still on earth], we make it our aim to please him,"  Paul says (2 Cor. 5:9).  Pleasing those who in some sense have your heart- a spouse, a sibling, a child, a friend, a mentor, a benefactor, or whoever- is a demanding occupation.  It calls for imagination, empathy, and effort;  you have to be aware of their hopes and expectations that involve you, their likes and dislikes, and their sense of the bond between you and them.  

Is this a major motive in our own lives, I wonder:  always and under all circumstances to please our Lord and Savior?  It was so with Paul, and this agenda, then for him, as now for us, is demanding.  It requires sustained love to Jesus, expressed in adoration of him for all that he is in himself and thanksgiving to him for all that he has done, for the world of lost humanity in general and for us sinners in particular.  It requires sustained obedience to all his commands, up to the limits of our understanding of them.  It requires constant watchfulness against temptations to self-indulgence, and constant battling against sloth, laziness, and indifference to spiritual issues.  It requires respectful and caring treatment of all others as persons created to bear the image of God, and self denial at all points where self-absorption would conflict with and damp down active neighbor-love.  It requires daily holiness, from morning to night, a daily quest for opportunities to bear witness to Christ, and daily prayer for the furthering of Christ's kingdom and the blessing of needy people.

There is joy in laboring wholeheartedly to please Christ, as Paul knew, but there is no denying that, as Isaac Watts put it, "love so amazing so divine [as Christ's love, supremely displayed at the cross], demands my soul, my life, my all."    

And then Packer shares an illustration C.S.Lewis used to describe the Christian's continued pursuit of Christ, continued service of Christ....  

"Lewis asks, what is it that a man in love wants when he courts the girl, woos her, and gets engaged to her with a view to marrying her?  Answer:  he wants more of the relationship with her that he has already begun.  He wants the deepest, richest, most satisfying mode of togetherness with her that it is possible for him to have.  He wants, in other words, more of what he has already."  (p35)

Hebrew and Greek are far from my Chinese-English brain, and I can't pretend to be scholar, but I've heard enough great sermons of pastors mentioning that Matthew 7:7, when we're told to ask, that it's really "ask and keep asking" and "knock, and keep knocking."  

I have no idea if it's there in the original languages but I think it must also be true for "abide in Me"(John 15) and for "we make it our aim to please him"; I've got to remember that's a present continuous thing too.  I'm not going to arrive at this place, a line in the sand of "now I've mastered abiding in Christ".... like I could coast on from there.  It's just not going to happen.  Just like getting the house clean is never going to last 60 seconds.  This is life.  Abide in Christ, and keep at it, keep abiding.  Aim to please him and keep ever after it, hard after it.  Like the lover who is already pledged to marry or already married, but who wants more, still more...  Run hard after that one end.... the prize of His smile and embrace.   

And for the moments when I shockingly feel like I may have hit target?   Rejoice!   Enjoy that thrill and know that it won't last long. The moments and days of falling far from target are the vast majority.  But rejoice then too.... because the Savior has come for just this!  For just me and for every failure, every flaw for everyone of us.    He has promised rescue and redemption and love, always love.  So aim and keep aiming, attending to His Word, and always aiming for more for His glory.  This is joy..... This is Life!