Out of the Thick, Into the Clearing

Ashley's graduation is in less then a month.

Yup, my second oldest is ready to fly away... proverbially.  She'll still be home, considering her options, working her job, serving her church, ministering to young girls... but she will be all her own.

So strange.

I know I missed the last two Menu Mondays and I might miss one or two more before all is said and done.  We are wrapping up the last week and a half of school, doing ministry, in the middle of a BIG research project, selling in the local homeschool book sale, and prepping for the grad girl and a slew of company in the first half of June.... oh, and milestone birthdays.  My girl grads, turns 18, all right after her brothers turn 16 and 22.  SIXTEEN... and twenty-two.

Oh boy.

And Brooke is taking a few high school classes next year as an 8th grader and I am down to homeschooling just 2.  Two.

Wow.

Time... can't you slow down at all the right spots?  Let me savor?

For tonight, I'm listening to this song...

... which Ashley plans to close out her graduation ceremony with, wearing a feather in her hair, a beautiful wing necklace and mom and dad fighting tears on the sidelines.

Tonight I look through pictures, wondering where the years went, oh so hard in the thick but oh so missed now that they are gone.  These pictures, some of which will hang on a pretty paper laid board with volumes of stories behind... volumes of tears and laughter, hardship and joy... I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

 

 

I can still feel those soft angelic curls in my hands as I comb them for an outing... can still feel those sweet arms around my neck and exuberant kisses on my cheek.

Mothers of little ones, the days are in-deed hard in the thick.  You wonder when they will go to the bathroom by themselves, quit asking for just one more story mama, stop fighting over toys or be able to nurse their own fevers.... you wonder just how many more nights until they don't wake you up for feedings or nightmares or potty time... you're tiered of the messes which never seem to stay cleaned up even when you do try... you simply want rest. 

But it comes. 

It comes in the thick when suddenly you stand in a clearing watching them sprint to the other side without you.  You're helpless, you thought this moment would be welcomed but instead, it is bitter sweet.

Mothers of little ones, take a deep breath and change more diapers, read more stories, rest longer in tender hugs and have hope in sleepless nights.  God has blessed you with the mighty gift of motherhood but those bittersweet moments are such a small part of our lives on planet Earth.  Treasure them, thank the Good Lord for them... because if you do, when that clearing hits, it will still be heart-rendering but you can look back and know you made the most of every moment in the thick.  That young man or young woman will pause on the other side of the clearing and look back to you... you will smile and wave and know, it was so good... now they are headed to the thick and you will be there to remind them to walk slow, take in the sites and treasure the journey along the way.

Praying you treasure it all.

Blessings,

Lessons of Grace*

I sit and sip in the gentle aroma of Earl Gray from a sturdy, yet delicately decorated, cup which had been buried in boxes and paper until only a few weeks ago.  This new life, in a new place, old things, new routines... it is adjusting.

In adjusting, the Kohosh which has kept me sane these last 10 years since my surgically induced menopause, was forgotten.  Surely I don't still need it... it has been 10 years.  I learned, this week, I mostly certainly need it... or stock in Earl Gray and Rogaine.

The climax came yesterday, day two of our fullish day of school schedule, and my 13 year old with his earmark deep yet crackly voice... his speech impediment from being def for the first three and a half years of his life... his dyslexic sideways-upside-down way of tackling all that he does... yes, that 13 year old challenged me in my raw state beyond what I felt capable of enduring.  Agitation riddled most of what I said and did, though the years of teaching two of my children with disabilities has trained me in better self-control... it has not yet trained me in the BEST self control.

My heart ached... it literally ached.  My veins were sore from the pulsing as I wearily set out dinner.  Hubby home, all smiles and cheers.  Me, wondering if Rogaine fits in the budget and not daring to suggest it for a spelling word that will never be mastered, I moved quietly, wishing to be invisible.  Wishing to be alone.  Wishing it wasn't so hard.  Fearing for what will become of my child who just-doesn't-seem-to-get-it.

Dyslexia, Amanda, he has a heart to learn and serve... don't loose sight.  Spelling challenges, unintended attitude with a seeming-to-him odd request from his mom as we worked on an unpacking project... he is my sweet child... oh, 13, give him back.  It whirred as I sat, taking my place at the table and bowing as 13 was picked to pray.

So quick, the speech impediment, the strings of ridiculousness at odd things asked, the playful-at-all-the-wrong-times disappeared as his prayer drifted through the air.  The prayer of a young man not a 13 or a child or a soul lost and searching.  No.  The firm, confident, prayer which cut straight into my aching and tumbled heart as I slumped across the table from this man child who had challenged me all day,

"And thank you, Lord, for our teacher...and thank you, that our teacher is our mom." Tears broke through the rims and only a miracle of the Spirit kept me from sobbing.  I had been so short with him, so intolerant and unwilling to offer up grace for the moment.... the new school year, the new schedule, the new ways things are being done in this new place.  I missed how compliant and willing he was.  I missed how hard he worked (even in-between the goofing off).  I missed his desire to conquer his challenges and overcome in order to achieve a greater goal and purpose in this life (and the next).  I didn't deserve gratitude... but he wanted to give it.

Oh, the lessons of grace from the sweetest, simplest, most undeserving places... from someone who did not care about the temporal, rather, only for the eternal.  Oh how Christ-like my man child has become.

But that is homeschooling.  More than book-learning are the lessons in the moments between.  The ones where student and teacher look oddly unexpected and the material becomes that which hands can not hold but hearts treasure forever.

Be Blessed in all the moments God has granted.

 Also linking up with some of these

Led and Worn

She came to me, heart aching, this has been a long journey for her too.  A growing journey.  A learning journey.  She learned how prayer builds bridges.  She learned how crying hearts can hold each other up, pointed to heaven.  She learned... how to strum the six melodic strings of a simple little guitar.  To strum them where tunes carry recognition and voice can be entwined to make beautiful song.

She spoke slowly at first, the conversations with God weighing heavy on her heart.  "I feel Led to sing a song for the congregation the Sunday before we leave."

Led.

She only glimpsed led before we left the Big Sky state 8 months before.  Now she touched the robe of her savior, knowing all hope, all healing, all guidance came at that hem... led by Him. 

I encouraged her to give me a preview, a mother's heart wanting to protect her budding artist.  What if she isn't good enough?  What if she isn't ready.  How do I help her.  I couldn't let her know what I thought... but I had to know if she was ready.  Surely 4 months of practice didn't make her ready... yet.

Her fingers clasped the hard plastic of her favored Nashville pick purchased with her own saved pennies and dollars at one particular turning point on this long long journey.  Hands strummed, voice lifted, this mother's eyes could not stay dry.  When did my little girl become a young lady... a beautiful song- heart stirring- Christ-centered lady?

I blinked, moments and years trickled down my cheek.  It is beautiful... I pledged help to see her feet step up on stage.

Others pledged and drew up alongside as well...

A Christ-centered woman encouraged a right heart the day before God's glory shined through to a congregation.

Little sister listened on as practice and pre-show performance in the home of a friend reminded us all of the treasure God had placed within our midst.

The day came.  Soundboard issues and feedback aside, she lifted her eyes and heart to be used by Him... to speak words to a congregation both for and from.  Her young years masked by ages of experience.  Dry eyes were few when she finished.

This journey which has brought us to a new home has made us all weary.  A good weary.  A great-is-our-God-I-will-weary-myself-for-Him... weary.  So we all sing with her young voice....

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause I’m worn

 It was a hard worn which transformed... a revitalizing worn which has marked.  I pray the weathered and worn places in your life will find renewal and re-birth in His hands and prayers lifted in hope.

Blessings,

 

  

 Also linking up with some of these