Mom to Mom

Overflow Options and Groundhog Day

2009-07-02T15:15:00.001-05:00

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?

Tongue-tied, Rejoicing, and On My Knees

2009-05-25T22:12:00.003-05:00

I seem to have been experiencing a strange kind of writer’s block lately. It comes at an inconvenient time—when I have both wonderful news and a great big prayer request I want to share with you. But I can’t seem to get the words out of my mouth—or, more accurately, into my word processor.

I think I’m beginning to understand why. I think it’ a special kind of mama writer’s block that seems to come upon me when my heart is overflowing: overflowing with either joy or anxiety—or, in this case, a strange blend of both.

But here I am—trying anyway. First the great good news. We have a new granddaughter! Hannah Grace Anderson was born on May 16 to her delighted parents Lars and Kelly and very excited big brother Bengt. Healthy and happy at 8 lbs 5 oz and 22 inches, she is a beautiful baby. (Of course you knew I’d say that—but she is!) She was named, I believe, primarily after Hannah in the Old Testament (my soul mate, as those of you in Mom to Mom know) and the great grace of God. But she also bears the names of two great great grandmothers—Woody’s grandmother Hannah and my Nana, Grace. Oh how we rejoice over Hannah’s safe arrival!

But here’s the glitch. Hannah’s daddy, our son Lars, leaves for Afghanistan this week. A C-130 Aircraft Commander and Captain in the Marines, he is scheduled to be deployed to Afghanistan for at least five months—possibly as long as ten months. You can imagine how this fills my mama-heart. Not only for Lars—a huge prayer request which every one of you mothers understands. But also for Kelly and Bengt and Hannah. Sometimes I’m not sure whose deployment is more challenging—Lars’ in Afghanistan or Kelly’s on the homefront...

I’m reminded of something Kelly shared when we visited them in March. She related how a friend of hers, another Marine wife who had just had a baby while her husband was in Iraq, shared her “deployment verse” with her. It was Nehemiah 8:10: “The joy of the Lord is my strength.” A window into the soul of amazing young Marine wives and mothers. I encourage you to pray for all these brave military wives.

And I’m asking you on behalf of my family: Please will you pray for Lars as he goes (most likely May 28) and Kelly as she stays with Bengt and Hannah. May the joy of the Lord truly be their strength! And may this mama-heart be full of that joy even as I walk through these next months on my knees . . .

Lars ends all his emails with these verses. May they bless you as they do all of us:
May the Lord bless and protect you.
May the Lord smile upon you and be gracious to you.
May the Lord show you His favor and give you his peace.

Numbers 6:24-26

Heroic Moms: in Ireland, in Wisconsin, and in . . .

2009-04-25T11:18:00.002-05:00

When Woody and I were in Ireland this past March, we were surprised to discover that we were there for Mother’s Day! In Ireland, Mother’s Day is March 22. Of course the whole visit felt like “Mother’s Day” for me, as I got to spend one whole week with my daughter and granddaughter. What more could a mother want?

I was particularly captivated by an article that ran in The Irish Times that weekend entitled “Who’d Be a Mother? The Advertising Angle.” the piece explored what advertising executives had said about how they’d advertise motherhood as a job. The consensus seemed to be that you’d need to be honest and tell the truth about what motherhood involves. One consultant recalled the ad that Antarctic explorer Ernest Shackleton placed in the London Times recruiting men to follow him to the South Pole:

“Men wanted for hazardous journey: small wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, constant danger, safe return doubtful. Honour and recognition in case of success.”

(It is said he received thousands of responses.)

The consultant went on to observe that motherhood is a “heroic expedition that, despite their better judgment, people embark on all the time.” Other contributors to the article, some advertising consultants, some moms, observed that, while motherhood tests your limits and requires multitasking described as “150 careers, one mammy,” it offers meaning and rewards that outweigh all the rest. Yet, as one ad writer and mom said, “Motherhood is about having to be a grown-up every day of your life.” Yikes! Every day of your life—that’s not easy!

I thought of this article a couple of weeks ago as I sat at the celebration brunch at our church’s Mom to Mom in Hartland, Wisconsin. As I listened to some of the stories shared by our moms, I thought about what a hazardous expedition motherhood is, and what heros these moms are. And I realized anew how very very important it is for us to support and encourage each other. How thankful I am that God implanted the idea of Mom to Mom so many years ago and it continues to encourage moms in their heroic journeys.

I’ll let a few of these moms speak for themselves about what Mom to Mom has done for them (quotes are approximate, from my notes):

“It makes me feel like I’m doing something right—or at least HE is!”
“Mom to Mom makes me feel normal, despite serious psychological issues!”
“When I leave, I just feel lighter.”
”Thank you for helping us look above the fray.”

“It’s so awesome to know that you really matter cuz sometimes you just feel like you don’t!”
“My leader is so encouraging. She calls me every Monday, and though I work on Mondays, my husband waits for her call and loves talking with her.”
“It’s helped me realize that every moment counts.”

“I see Jesus in the women in my group, and that has helped draw me closer to Him.”
“It’s helped me move my faith from my head to my heart.”
“It reminds me that God is faithful even when I’m not.”

A hazardous journey. Great rewards. Mom heros. A faithful God. Lots of encouragement needed along the way.

I’m so glad that we moms can join hands and look up and encourage each other in this heroic expedition. I’ll bet you have some hero-moms in your Mom to Mom groups. Got any stories to share? I’d love to hear them!

Waiting for Easter

2009-04-09T09:00:00.002-05:00

Early tomorrow (Good Friday) morning we’ll be flying to Boston, then heading up to New Hampshire to spend Easter weekend with our son Bjorn and his wife Abby and their 2-year-old son Soren. I can’t wait! Whenever we’re on the way to visit any of our kids and grandkids, I feel the same way: I just can’t wait! There’s a wonderful anticipation because we know what’s coming—we always so love being with our family.

But lately I’ve been thinking about a different kind of waiting. It’s the kind of waiting Jesus’ disciples experienced between Good Friday and Resurrection morning. Those hours—days—must have felt like forever. Because remember, they didn’t know—as we do—how the story would turn out.

In Reliving the Passion (a phenomenal book which, by the way, I read every Lenten season and highly recommend), Walter Wangerin captures in a remarkable way the feelings that must have been in the hearts of those who knew and loved Jesus. He imagines Mary lingering among the tombs on Saturday, that wretched empty day when it seemed He’d left them forever:

“Stone cold. And the stone is closed. Where do I go from here? Nowhere. Back to the city. Which is a nowhere now. The Master isn’t there. The Master is not. Everywhere is nowhere. There’s nowhere to go….Because the whole world is a graveyard….Jesus! Jesus! Without you I am a nothing in a nowhere.” [Wangerin, p. 151]

Can you imagine what that must have felt like? We twenty-first century disciples have a hard time even thinking through such a scenario—one in which on Good Friday and the never-ending Saturday that followed, we don’t know that Jesus will rise from the dead—altering history, our own and the entire world’s—forever.

Because we live on the other side of Easter, where we know how it all turns out, I think we often miss out on that overwhelming sense of whooping joy Mary and the other disciples experienced that glorious Easter morning. “Whooping joy”—that’s what Wangerin calls it.

We today can’t entirely know what that kind of waiting—the long desperate hours between Good Friday and the First Easter—feels like. But we certainly experience many kinds of waiting in our lives. Much of the waiting is hard—very, very hard. We wait for illnesses to be healed. For jobs to be found. For relationships to be restored. For pain to be alleviated. For that glorious reunion one day with our loved ones who’ve gone on before us.

I recently heard a very moving testimony from a father whose beautiful daughter was tragically killed in a freak auto accident one sunny summer morning nearly two years ago. He described with great faith, authenticity, and vulnerability his tortuous journey through grieving, even as a deep Christian. How desperately he and his wife would like to see their daughter again—now. But God’s message to him? “Wait.”

I’m reminded of Wangerin’s words to Mary Magdalene:

“Grief, while you are grieving, lasts forever. But under God, forever is a day. Weeping, darling Magdalene, may last the night. But joy cometh with the sunrise—and then your mourning shall be dancing, and gladness shall be the robe around you, Wait. Wait.” [Wangerin, p. 138]

So, go ahead and prepare for Easter, my dear mom-friends. Clean the house. Hide the eggs. Prepare for Easter dinner. Above all, find some creative ways to share the Easter story with your kids. (See last year’s Easter blog for some funny interpretations my kids got of the story. How do you make the story “come alive” for the kids at your house?)

But as you do all this, may God bless your waiting. Your waiting for Easter and all the other waiting in your lives. Remember, there’s “whooping joy” to come. Happy Easter!

What Do Fishing and a Mom's Life Have in Common?

2009-04-05T21:51:00.003-05:00

I love it when we have “guest bloggers” from time to time. This piece was written by one of our Mom to Mom Board members, Kay Benson, who also leads a wonderfully creative group of Mom to Mom women. They keep finding more ways to have fun together! We’d love to hear some comments back from any of you who might have tried something like a “Dad To Dad” night. Or, perhaps might have had some mom-fishing stories of your own—bring ‘em on!

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At first glance it doesn’t seem like fishing and a mom’s life fit together at all, does it?

Except for perhaps the messy clean ups, and the “dressing” of both fish and kids, and the practice of waiting…waiting…waiting (for teeth to be brushed, the glass of milk to empty, for the children to finally get into bed and give up the day).

I can hear myself internally shouting, “I’ve got one!” as the last child drifts off to sleep each night.

Sunday evening, Dogwood Church Mom to Mom (near Atlanta) hosted a “Dad to Dad” and the theme was “Fishing Stories.” The guys loved the “manly” theme and we moms could relate by thinking how like fishermen (women?) we often feel.

Jesus had a lot to say about fishing as well. Many of his disciples were fishermen. He used fish analogies throughout his time on earth and liked to explain principles for living by making comparisons with the common, everyday stuff we experience in our real lives.

One of my favorite passages is when Jesus invites his disciples to a breakfast he’s prepared on the shore—a man’s fishing breakfast. The story reminds me of the many breakfasts I’ve prepared. Check it out: John 21:1-14

Kay in Atlanta

Extraordinary Work via Ordinary Lives

2009-03-18T20:06:00.004-05:00

I’ve been with a lot of moms lately: moms in Florida (Sarasota), moms in North Carolina (my daughter-in-law Kelly and friends in New Bern), moms in Illinois (Libertyville and Wheaton—my old home town, so a special treat), and moms in Wisconsin (Lake Geneva). You know how I love this—being with moms at all ages and stages of parenting.

As I meet moms all over the country, I am always amazed. Amazed by their stories. Amazed by their courage. Amazed by their commitment to their calling—their very high calling to love their husbands and children.

In the past couple of weeks I’ve been especially impressed by the extraordinary things God does in “ordinary” lives. Despite their absolutely crucial role, the everyday lives of moms can feel so mundane. So “mind-numbingly boring,” as one Illinois mom put it. It’s a very honest, very real assessment of some of our mom-days . . . many of our mom-days, actually.

“Towel and sandal days,” I sometimes call them, borrowing (again—two blogs in a row) from Oswald Chambers. In the devotional for September 11 in My Utmost for His Highest, Chambers observes that when we work for God we do not choose the circumstances He engineers for us but rather must choose the attitude with which we serve whatever our surroundings.

And of course He points us to Jesus:

“The things Jesus did were of the most menial and commonplace order, and this is an indication that it takes all God’s power in me to do the most commonplace things in His way. Can I use a towel as He did? Towels and dishes and sandals, all the ordinary sordid things of our lives, reveal more quickly than anything what we are made of. It takes God Almighty Incarnate within me to do the meanest duty as it ought to be done.”

As I sat with a group of moms a couple of days ago during a Q and A session, I thought of these words. These moms were grappling with their mama-guilt feelings (“I feel like I just don’t play enough with my daughter”; “Daddies like to play with kids more than mommies do, don’t they, Mommy?”) as well as their frustrations (“I feel as if I never get anything done at all. My son wants to play with me non-stop all day.”) There are a lot of “towel and sandal days” in moms’ lives.

And then our conversation began to drift back to all of our own moms. Several women made an interesting observation: “You know, I don’t really remember my mom playing a lot with me. She had a lot of kids and was really busy just keeping us all safe and fed and clothed. But what I do remember is that she was always there for us. Always there when I needed her.”

That’s saying a lot, isn’t it? There’s a great deal more going on than we realize even in the most ordinary days of our lives if we choose to “use a towel as He did.” Just thought I’d remind you of that in case you may be experiencing a lot of towel and sandal days this mid-March.

Just in case . . .

God Surprises Us in Austin

2009-02-27T16:19:00.002-06:00

The Mom to Mom board met last week in Austin, Texas

“When the Lord does a thing through us, He always transfigures it.” That’s an Oswald Chambers observation from my favorite devotional, My Utmost for His Highest, for February 19. Isn’t it interesting how often God surprises us? How often His plans are different than ours—but always in the long run, better than ours.

God surprised us, the Mom To Mom Board, in a number of ways last week in Austin.

First, our “Event” became something quite different from what we had originally planned when the larger event was postponed and morphed into a “simplified” version (fitting with our theme, actually!). We met Friday night and Saturday morning in an intimate home setting in Austin with groups of women from a number of churches interested in starting a Mom To Mom program. What a delightful time we had as we shared ideas and swapped stories! We’re eager to see what God will do as these wonderful women begin Mom to Mom in their churches and communities.

We also had fun participating in two local Mom to Mom groups. Another God-surprise: The large Wednesday morning Mom to Mom at Lake Hills Church was in desperate need of childcare workers due to a flu outbreak. So a number of our Mom to Mom board members had the great fun of playing with kids and participating in one dynamite childcare program. The Lake Hills childcare team call themselves “The Pink Ladies” (See their picture above—I might join just to get that cute T-shirt!) but also include “Big Dog Daddy”—obviously a big favorite with the kids! It may be a Mom to Mom first—fly in a whole team of experienced Mom to Mom leaders to fill in when too many childcare workers are sick!

Lake Hills also hosted another Mom to Mom group from Westover Church of Christ. I so enjoyed meeting moms from both of these groups and hearing amazing stories of how God is working in their lives and homes and marriages.

Then two of us met on Wednesday night with a new evening Mom to Mom group at Lake Hills Church. As our small group sat in an intimate circle and discussed the Inside Out Parenting lesson, these incredible moms began to share their stories. I have to say I was simply blown away by how God had worked in their lives, pursuing them with His love and bringing them to this place. It was a true Holy Spirit moment—perhaps my favorite memory of the week. How God surprises us, appearing sometimes in the quiet, small places where we might (foolishly) least expect Him! I fell in love with these moms—and more in love than ever with the God who brought us all together.

There was one other surprise for us last week: All the events of the week, the wonderful women we met, and the stories we heard were used by God to help us focus better than ever on our next steps as a Mom to Mom board. One of our biggest prayers for our week in Austin had been that we would hear the voice of God. And we did!

“When the Lord does a thing through us, He always transfigures it.” I hope that each of you will be alert to God’s surprises in your life this week—They’re worth watching for!

Sunshine, Snuggies . . . and It's February!

2009-02-04T13:25:00.006-06:00

I woke up this morning thinking about Snuggies. You know what Snuggies are, right? They’re “the blanket with arms” that you can order for just $19.95 in a variety of colors (“one size fits all”)!

“Such a profound thinker,” you’re saying to yourself.

I woke up thinking about Snuggies because I’m still cold. My backyard thermometer reads 2 below right now. Sometimes I wonder if it will ever be warm again in Wisconsin.

But, even so, I think I’m thawing slightly. I can feel the brain freeze warming just a little bit.

It’s partly because I was in Alabama over the weekend—more on that on my speaker blog. It was a great weekend. And it was sunny! There was green grass and warm breezes. Does wonders for a frozen soul. Mostly because of the warm and wonderful women down there in Daphne. But the sunshine they live in (even in January!) doesn’t hurt any.

Back to the Snuggies. Ever since I saw the first infomercial on TV, I’ve been laughing about Snuggies. Laughing because the lady at the beginning of the commercial (the one in the blanket without arms) looks just like I used to in the house where we lived in Massachusetts. Somehow we never could get that house warm enough—so we took to walking around wearing afghans. Not only me—also, from time to time, the kids. And sometimes, when he was home and not complaining about being too warm (there’s something about Woody’s Viking blood that has thrown off his internal temperature, I’m convinced)—even Woody. No, I’m not kidding. It was quite a sight.

So when I saw the first Snuggie commercial, I nearly fell off the couch laughing. Then I actually found myself seriously considering ordering one. Though our current home is (praise God!) quite toasty…still, when it’s 10 below out there, a Snuggie sounds pretty good. “Not exactly flattering. Not real fashion-forward. But still, when you live in Wisconsin, you gotta do what you gotta do.”

Just then Woody walked through the family room and saw me contemplating a Snuggie on TV. “Don’t even think about it!” he said. Or something like that.

Then what do you suppose I saw when I turned on the Today Show this morning? There was Meredith and Matt and Al and Natalie, flanked by the rest of the crew—all wearing Snuggies! I kid you not. And I’ve gotta say they looked almost as funny as the Anderson Family used to look in our blankets!

I guess I was really on to something when I woke up this morning. According to Matt Lauer, Snuggies are actually “developing a cult-like following.” Guess I’m not alone in being cold.
So maybe I will order one. But then again there’s Woody’s feelings about them. I wonder if he’d feel any differently if they had what Al Roker suggested this morning on Today—“snuggies for two.” After all, it is Valentine’s month.

Speaking of which, aren’t you glad it’s February? Personally, I’ve always liked February better than January. And it’s not just because February is my birthday month. I’ve always loved Valentine’s Day (which we always had fun celebrating with our kids—more on that in some other blog). And hearts. And red. And candy.

Especially candy.

But this February is extra-special because of the Mom to Mom event I told you about last time. I know Texas is a long way away for most of you reading this. But I hope at least a few of you can join us in Austin February 20-21. And thanks to those of you who’ve contributed suggestions, either here or by email, for “Simplifying Motherhood.” Keep ‘em coming!

Happy February! Remember that March—and April and May and even July, when summer finally starts here—can’t be far behind.

Meanwhile, hey, it’s only $19.95...

Babies, Brain Freeze, and January Thaws

2009-01-20T10:29:00.001-06:00

It’s been a long time since I’ve written. One of the reasons for that is that we’ve had a houseful of babies. Actually, only one real baby. We had the great delight of having Gabriella (and her parents) here for almost two glorious weeks. We loved every minute. What a gift this Nana has had—first, nearly three weeks in Dublin with Erika, Richie, and Gabriella and then nearly two weeks with them here.

And we had other “babies” as well. Of course Bengt at age three and Soren at age two are definitely not—as they would be sure to tell you—babies. Bengt is even sleeping in a “big boy bed,” and Soren is clearly a “big boy” compared to his baby cousin “Gabby-umbrella.” But still, they are (don’t tell them) our grandbabies.

And they brought their parents along—you know, the ones who used to be our babies but somehow, when we weren’t looking, grew up and learned to fly airplanes and lead groups and direct ministries. And move far away—too far, as a matter of fact.

But we had them all here for a few short days over New Year’s. It was a house-full—wonderful, glorious chaos. But then they left. And now the house is quiet and neat and organized (well, sort of) again. And I’m not liking it much at all.

It’s also led to a fairly serious problem—brain freeze. For the past week or so, my brain has been frozen. I have things to do, blogs to write, teaching and speaking to plan. But my brain seems to be frozen. No motivation. No new ideas. No creative bursts of energy. All I want to do is go back and relive the chaos days, when everyone was home and the house was messy and noisy and full of life.

Any of you experiencing brain freeze? In talking to a few other people, I’m learning that it does seem to afflict others, especially in January. Now here in Wisconsin you could say it is weather-related. We’ve had many below-zero days and wind chills as low as 30-40 below. But it is actually quite warm and toasty in my house. I really don’t think I can blame it on the weather.
I think it’s kind of a January thing. It comes for different reasons for all of us. For some of you, there actually may be some relief in January in having the kids go back to school. You’re still scratching your head about how I could wish to go back to a chaotic, noisy house. But then there’s the stuff you left to do until after the holidays. The return to the routine. The weather. I know—those of you in the south think it’s cold even down there in January. Just don’t tell us Northerners too much about it!

Which leads me to the last part of my blog title: January thaw. OK, this part is wishful thinking. Though we are experiencing some temperatures in the 20’s, there’s no January thaw in the Milwaukee area. But I’m thinking it would be nice. And it may come someday—by, say, April.
But I do think my brain may be beginning to thaw out just a bit. After all, I’m writing to you . . . Now if only I could get some great creative bursts of energy in my writing and planning of talks.
Which is where you come in. I’m curious: Do any of you have January brain freeze? Any ideas on how to thaw out?

Also, I could use your help. Mom to Mom is planning a fun new event in Austin, Texas, this February 20-21. (Read about it here.) The event theme is “Motherhood: Simplified,” and we’re very excited about it. In fact, even despite my brain freeze, I’m at work right now on three keynote talks.

Of course, all you moms know we don’t mean “Motherhood Made Easy.” There’s certainly no such thing! But we can make it less complicated than our culture seems to say. So I’d love to hear from any of you who have some insights or hot tips on ways you’ve found to simplify your life.

Who knows? Maybe the warmth of hearing from you will even help my brain thaw…

Deathless Prayers: A Mom's Gift

2008-12-20T10:47:00.001-06:00

One year ago yesterday (December 19) my mom died, leaving a huge hole in my heart, a gaping space in my world that will never be filled this side of heaven. I am blessed—abundantly blessed—with a fantastic husband, wonderful children, and great friends. But she was my only mom. No one else in the world really knows you like your mother.

I realize that, sadly, this is not always the case. But it was for me. Next to my husband Woody, my mom was my best friend. She listened to me. (I sometimes wonder how many hours she clocked listening to me—probably years, really, considering the chatty child I was right from the beginning.) She loved me. Selflessly. With the kind of love only someone who knows you “warts and all” can truly give. She laughed with me. Such a gift: a sense of humor.

This morning I was suddenly reminded of one of the most fun weekends of my life. Mom, Erika, and I had the great privilege of speaking at a three-generational mother-daughter retreat. I think the attenders were blessed—I hope so. But I know that Mom, Erika, and I had a blast. We laughed more that weekend than I’d ever thought possible. I came home from the retreat thinking, “Wow! My mom and my daughter are just fun people to be with!”

Above all, my mom prayed for me. Not only for me, but for Woody, for all her kids and grandkids by name, and for countless family and friends spread throughout the world. Mom really knew how to pray. In the last days and even weeks with her, I kept asking myself: “How will I ever live without Mom’s prayers?” I just couldn’t imagine not being able to pick up the phone and fire an urgent prayer request her way. I knew she would pray. I knew she would not forget. I knew she would ask me about it and let me “vent” as long as I needed. But she would also point me Godward, lovingly redirecting me and helping me re-establish perspective.

Well, I’ve lived through one year now without those phone calls. Oh, how I miss them! But I’ve come to understand that I do not live without her prayers. For one thing, it seems to me that she must still be praying for me in Heaven. After all, the Bible not only invites us to pray on this earth; it commands it. And we’re told in the Scripture that Jesus prays for us at the right hand of God the Father. Surely His people in the celestial city must also pray. And if there’s prayer going on, you better believe my Mom will be there!

Then there’s the banner that stopped me in my tracks outside the worship center in our church last Sunday. It’s a quote from E. M. Bounds: “God shapes the world by prayers. Prayers are deathless—they outlive the lives of those who utter them.” Deathless prayers. What a thought. My mom’s prayers will continue to live and bear fruit not only in my life, but also in the lives of my children and grandchildren. Even those born after she left us. Even—maybe especially—the one named after her—tiny Gabriella Eyla Cronin. What a gift her prayers are—the ultimate gift that keeps on giving. What a gift every one of us can give our children—and each other!

All day yesterday I kept thinking of an old poem which I believe captures the essence of my mom’s life. Ironically, it is included (with no attribution other than “selected”) in one of my mom’s favorite devotionals, Streams in the Desert, in the reading for December 19, the day of her death. I’ve seen it elsewhere given the title, “Call Back”:

If you have gone a little way ahead of me, call back—
It will cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track;
And if, perhaps, Faith’s light is dim, because the oil is low,
Your call will guide my lagging course as wearily I go.
Call back, and tell me that He went with you into the storm;
Call back, and say He kept you when the forest’s roots were torn;
That when the heavens thunder and the earthquake shook the hill,
He bore you up and held you where the lofty air was still.
O friend, call back and tell me for I cannot see your face;
They say it glows with triumph and your feet sprint in the race;
But there are mists between us and my spirit eyes are dim
And I cannot see the glory, though I long for word of Him.
But if you’ll say He heard you when your prayer was but a cry,
And if you’ll say He saw you through the night’s sin-darkened sky,
If you have gone a little way ahead, O friend, call back—
It will cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony path.

In her life, Mom was constantly “calling back” encouragement to others—women in her Bible study groups, moms in her Mom To Mom groups, friends, family. Especially family. And now in her New Life, I believe she still calls back. Not only by the example she left us and her many words so lovingly remembered. But also in her prayers. Deathless prayers.

OK, I still miss the phone calls. I desperately miss them. But I am reminded that, despite the temporary absence of two-way communication, she still calls back. And so, it seems, can we in the lives of those we love. An eternal gift. I am grateful.

Babies, Mamas . . . and their Mamas

2008-12-16T16:39:00.002-06:00

I’m back! After 18 wonderful days (and nights—well, maybe they weren’t always so wonderful!) with Gabriella and her parents, I’m back home. And I’m up way too early. Amazing what jet lag does to you—it is, after all, nearly halfway through the day in Dublin.

In these dark and cold (here on the frozen tundra, our backyard thermometer reads below zero—I’m not sure I want to know how much below) early morning hours, I’m thinking thoughts of babies and mothers—and, of course, also the mothers of those mothers.

I’ve come home from my immersion in new-baby-land with two big impressions.

First, I am newly amazed and awed at the love God gives to a mother for her child. To both parents, really—but I am writing primarily to mothers here. It’s amazing what a mother will go through. Not only to give birth—that’s medal-of-honor material in itself. But how about the absolute and complete re-arrangement of your life when you bring that baby home? Topsy-turvy days and nights—if you can even tell the difference! Painful tenderness in all kinds of body parts you rarely thought about before. The need for a caravan (and household staff) just to get you out the door. I really don’t need to go on—you all remember this!

It was a great privilege to watch my daughter become, seemingly almost instantly, such a wonderful mother. And to see the way both Richie and Erika love this beautiful child beyond words even amidst their sleep-deprived fog of new parenting. I have new admiration for all of you reading this who are doing (and have done) the same thing.

My second big impression is a bit more personal. I just have to say that it is hard—very hard—to leave a daughter and granddaughter and get on a plane and fly 8 or 9 hours in the other direction. I envy any of you nanas who don’t have to do this. But this morning I’ve actually moved beyond my personal little pity party. I find myself thinking differently about the Christmas story.

For the first time ever, I find myself thinking of Mary’s mother. I’ve often thought of what that journey to Bethlehem on a donkey must have been like for just-about-to-deliver Mary. In fact, Erika and I talked often of this as we rocked Gabriella in the middle of the night.

But for some reason, I had never thought about Mary’s mother. The Bible tells us nothing about her, so of course this is all speculation. But what must it have been like to see your daughter set off on such a journey at such a time? And then probably not to see (or possibly even hear from) your child—and grandchild—for most likely several years? This was, after all, way before frequent flyer miles and email and Skype and cheap international phone rates!

I just read, for seemingly the thousandth time, Mary’s words to the angel upon learning of the Child she was to bear. The angel Gabriel has just answered Mary’s very human questions with the reminder that “nothing is impossible with God.” And Mary responds (in Luke 1:38), “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.”

Those words have always astounded me. Stopped me right in my tracks. Made me almost speechless. And this morning I’m wondering whether Mary’s own mother had a similar heart response. And maybe that’s what made it possible for her to let Mary go.

Where did they (both Mary and, maybe—just maybe—her mom, too) get the strength to do this? The answer may just lie in my new granddaughter’s name. Gabriella means, I’ve just learned, “God gives strength.” And He does, doesn’t He? To mamas and their mamas all over the world. Then and now. Thank you Jesus! And may each of your reading this feel His strength this Advent season.

A closing personal note: I can’t resist including a few extra pictures this time—thanks for indulging this “Nana.” And . . . one more bit of exciting news from our family: we’re going to have another granddaughter in May! Lars and Kelly just learned from her ultrasound that Bengt is going to get the baby sister he’s been wanting. Lots to celebrate in our family this year. We give thanks.

Gabriella's Here!

2008-11-22T10:08:00.005-06:00

And now—finally—she’s here! Gabriella Eyla Cronin. November 21, 2008. She arrived just two days before her mama’s birthday.

Can you imagine how my eyes filled with tears at the news when Richie called? His description was great: “Our daughter is here—and she’s beautiful. 8 lbs, 5 oz long, with long thin fingers and about an inch of dark hair and a great set of lungs.” Later you told me she has curly hair—such a fun surprise.

And then we heard, “The pediatrician pronounced her ‘perfect.’ ” We are overcome with gratitude. Such a gift from God—and nothing to be taken for granted, for sure.
And how precious that you named her Eyla as her middle name—after your grandmother “Nini.” I’m sure there’s singing in heaven over her birth anyway. But I see a big smile on Nini’s face, don’t you?

I’m just hours from boarding a plane for Dublin as I write this. I can’t wait to meet Gabriella. But I can already see her in my mind’s eye—and somehow she looks a lot like you! Funny, isn’t it? I can just see all that dark hair and cute button nose and long fingers—so much like her mama (except her mama didn’t get the curls ’til later in life!)

I’ll arrive in Dublin on your birthday. How fun is that? Twenty-seven years ago Dad and I had a “Thanksgiving baby.” And now our “baby” has a Thanksgiving baby. God gives great gifts. I just can’t stop thanking Him!

I have to keep this short for now. I’ve been too excited even to get my suitcase packed. But Dublin here I come! What a way to celebrate Thanksgiving!

Our special verse for you when you were born was: “O give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good” (a frequent refrain in many of the Psalms). And now we’re giving thanks again for a new little life. Thank you thank you thank you Jesus!

A Letter to My Daughter As She Awaits the Birth of Her Daughter

2008-11-20T09:56:00.002-06:00

Dear Eri,

You are sitting, waiting, at the edge of something so huge that no words can contain it. With days—maybe even hours—you will become a mother. One of the best gifts any woman could ever receive. Also the hardest.

It doesn’t seem it could be 27 years ago (almost to the day—will she be born on your birthday?) that I was welcoming you into my arms. My third child on this earth (our first baby having gone to Jesus before he/she was born). And my first—and only—daughter.

You know how I felt in those first days after your birth. Ecstatic. Almost beyond belief. I really have a daughter! Thank you thank you thank you Jesus. The cascades of pink roses. The little girl figurine Dad brought into the hospital. You know the story well. In fact, I’ve told you so many times it has become a joke between us.

But now it’s you, honey. You’re the one about to give birth to a daughter. I know how you’re feeling. Excited. Nervous. Watchful. Sometimes worried. Impatient. There’s a longing, isn’t there? A longing to meet this little girl you have nurtured and sheltered within your body for so long.

A few words for you as you wait. You already know what I am going to say first. Being a Mom is an amazing gift. You have no idea how wonderful it is going to be. No matter how exhausted you may be after the delivery, when you hold that baby, you will know in a nano-second how “worth it” it all was. No matter what she looks like after her ordeal, no matter how loud she screams, you will find yourself loving her with a fierce, joyful love you cannot even imagine yet.
Mama-love is an astonishing thing. And it’s a good thing God gives it to us because we need it as moms. Not just in the early new-baby days. But in every day of our mom-lives. It’s what gets us through all the twists and turns on this road called motherhood.

Mama-love and the grace of God. Especially the grace of God. Because being a mom is not only the best thing that could happen to you. It is also the hardest thing you will ever do. At times it will feel like “mission impossible.” What makes it possible is God’s strength and that amazing, inexplicable, ferocious love God will give you for this child.

So while you are waiting—and waiting, and waiting, a few bits of random advice. It may seem a strange time to be giving advice. But I have to take some time off in my day from my constant pacing and praying, pacing and praying, as Dad and I await news of this baby from the other side of the ocean. And you will have more time to read this before the baby arrives than afterward. And my words will be here to come back to some day when you need them. And so, God willing, will I!

A couple of months ago a mom in an Atlanta-area Mom To Mom asked me a great question: “What are the words of wisdom you might offer your daughter as she becomes a mother?” Here are a few samplings—with the promise of more words (and many prayers!) to come.

You’ve just become a lifelong learner. No, you won’t know everything you think you should about being a mother. But you will learn as you go—and be the better for it. You and your daughter will definitely grow together!
Rely on God’s strength and wisdom (James 1:5 will become a mama-mantra)—and the encouragement and wisdom of other moms. Don’t try to “go it alone!”
Remember that God—and kids—are very forgiving. Yes, you will make mistakes. But consider how many I made—and look how you turned out!
Stay on your knees. It’d good training for what will be your lifelong job: Praying for your children.
Don’t forget to laugh a lot! It will ease the tension, soothe the pain—and make you much happier and more fun as a Mom.
Stay close with Richie. It’s easy to let the marriage slip away in this all-consuming job of mothering a new baby. I remember a quote I read recently from a new father about his marriage: “I feel like the old dog—and my wife just got a new puppy!”
Savor the moments. This will seem impossible in the middle of the night when the baby just won’t stop crying. But as one young mom told me, “When your kids are young, it feels like forever. But the years fly by….”
Something to look forward to: Being a mom, in a sense, gets better all the time. I’ve loved each stage along the way (well, most of the time). And just think--maybe one day your daughter will be just about to deliver her first child. And you will know the joy and anticipation (and nervous pacing!) I feel right now.

I love you honey—so much more than you can even understand. But very soon you will begin to know more of what mother-love means. And in the meantime, please take this as a HUGE cyberspace hug. That’s it for now (with, as I said, so much more to come). I have to get back to my praying and pacing.

Stay well, my precious daughter—and your daughter too! You are in God’s good hands!

With enormous love,
Mom

Bright Spots in Back Therapy

2008-11-09T13:38:00.001-06:00

A little update from the land of heating pads and whirlpool baths and PT exercises: This crazy back of mine is still hurting, which seems absolutely incredible to me. Really . . . a back spasm lasting 5 weeks?!

However, I want you to know there are bright spots even amidst all this. Since I’ve had nerve enough to share my whining with you, I feel duty-bound to share some good stuff, too. Here’s a sampling, in no particular order:

After two or three weeks of laying low at home, I was finally able to make a quick trip to New Hampshire last week. It gave my spirits a great lift to meet more amazing moms in Seacoast, New Hampshire, and, above all, to spend some wonderful, magical hours playing with my grandson Soren. Doesn’t get much better than that!
Another fabulous answer to prayer: In my last entry, I made reference to praying for a friend to have a baby. I’ve just found out she’s pregnant, seemingly against all odds. I’m dancing (well, maybe just doing my stretching exercises with far more joy)—and praying all the more, of course, for that pregnancy. Praise God for positive pregnancy tests!
A great new book (new to me, that is) by a delightful young author: Cold Tangerines, by Shawna Niequist. Subtitled “Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life,” it is a collection of reflections on the ups and downs and twists and turns in the life of a twenty-something who, by the end of the book, has turned thirty and had her first baby. But it’s more than that: it’s funny and sad and wise and deep in ways that sneak up on you because her writing is so funny and honest and refreshing. I got so involved I actually finished the last few chapters in the whirlpool and then flat on my back on my heating pad. It’ll help you see your life quite differently—and laugh a lot along the way. (And oh yes, continuing my current “prayer theme,” she even has a funny but very thoughtful chapter called “Prayer and Yoga”—about how both are things we tend to talk about more than we actually do them. Sound familiar?)
The Countdown: Erika and Richie’s baby is due in just ten days! Now you know why I’m trying to be such a good little dubie about all those back exercises and whirlpool sessions. It’s a loooong flight to Dublin, even when your back isn’t killing you to start with. But oh-so-worth it, as you all know. Please pray that I’ll be strong enough when the time comes to be a help (and not, please God, a patient!) But above all, please pray for a safe delivery and healthy baby. November 19 (give or take—you know how that goes), just so you know.
One more upcoming trip before Dublin: This coming week (November 11-13) is LifeWay’s Women’s Leadership Forum in Nashville. I look forward to representing Mom To Mom and doing some speaking there, Lord willing, back permitting, and baby-hasn’t-come-yet! Maybe I’ll even see one or two of you there. Please come see me at the Mom To Mom table or at one of my workshops. I’ll be looking for you!

Yes, life can be good even with a bad back. I’m learning that—slowly. And God does hear and answer our prayers. Even the ones when He says “not yet . . .” Like my “pleeease pleeease heal my back” prayers. You just have to keep talking—and listening!

Paying Attention: From a Different Point of View

2008-11-01T22:28:00.002-05:00

God has creative ways of getting our attention, doesn’t He? I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately as I’ve been forced into a quieter life with more time on my back, more time to pray.

As a matter of fact, maybe that’s what prayer is: paying attention.

This is a big emphasis in Leighton Ford’s wonderful book (which I highly recommend!) The Attentive Life: Discerning God’s Presence in All Things. Since I tend to have spiritual attention deficit disorder (SADD) when I am living my usual busy life, these times of lying flat on the heating pad not only give me more time to pray. It seems they also give me a different perspective on what God is doing in this world.

Just yesterday, I witnessed two amazing answers to prayers I had prayed with others over the weekend. And I wonder: would I have noticed them if I hadn’t been paying attention to what God is doing?

Time on my back also makes me spend more time looking up. Funny what one sees from that perspective. More, even, than spots on the ceiling that need some work.

In another wonderful book on prayer, Philip Yancey’s Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? (which I also highly recommend; it will take you a while to read, but it is well worth it!), Yancey emphasizes the importance of beginning our prayers from God’s point of view—not ours. I think of it as sort of a “Google Earth” deal. Instead of rushing in with my list of recommendations of what I’d like God to do, I could begin by prayerfully considering His perspective: How much more, for example, He loves and cares for His world, all the way down to that individual I am desperately praying will be able to have a baby.

This “back reflection” business is also a reminder of Who’s in charge. Yancey quotes writer Ben Patterson reflecting on six weeks he had to spend flat on his back. As Patterson was returning to his “real life” and lamenting that he had less time now to spend in prayer, God said to him: “Ben, you have just as much time when you’re well as when you’re sick. It’s the same 24 hours in either case. The trouble with you is that when you’re well, you think you are in charge. When you’re sick, you know you’re not.” (Yancey, p. 169, quoting from Patterson’s book Waiting)

Hmmm….Good point. I hope I can remember that when life returns to “normal.”

One last thing for you, as I know you may not have time just now to read either of these books. Don’t you love Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of part of Matthew 6:34: “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now.” I’ll bet you can do that even if you’re not flat on your back!

Back Reflections: Amazing Moms

2008-10-24T16:58:00.002-05:00

It’s been a long time since I wrote. I’ve been traveling a lot. But now I’m finally back home—and on my back! Due to a stubborn back problem, I’m spending a lot of time on my back these days. As impatient as I am about this, I’m finding that life flat on my back gives me a different perspective. It gives me a lot more time to think—and to pray!

Unfortunately, it doesn’t allow for much time at the computer. But I still want to stay in touch with any of you gracious enough to check out my blog. So I’m thinking of starting a series of shorter blog entries called “Back Reflections.” I have no idea whether I’ll really be able to make this a series. But for starters, here’s what I’ve been thinking about today.

Amazing Moms

In the past few weeks, I’ve had the privilege of visiting Mom To Mom groups in six states: Wisconsin, Mississippi, Michigan, Texas, Georgia, and Massachusetts. Every one of these visits has been sheer joy.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, while in Mississippi I learned about “happies.”

In Michigan, I learned they had “happies” as well (chocolate!), but just hadn’t known what to call them until they read about the Mississippi moms. I also got to witness the great growth of the East Lansing group. I think they’ve doubled in their second year! Both of these groups were delighted with local newspaper articles that reported about their Mom To Mom programs.

In Texas, I was deeply moved by the moms with special needs kids. They have their own small group at their Mom To Mom. I had a ball doing a Q&A session with Georgia moms—what fantastic questions they asked!

And in Massachusetts I got to meet all kinds of new-to-Mom To Mom moms, as well as several who’ve been in Mom To Mom for more than eight years!

But it all comes down to the faces—and the stories. And as I lay on my back this morning praying for Mom To Mom groups all over the country, I was struck with how many amazing moms I know. They ask great questions. They have great stories. And they have great perseverance in the face of overwhelming circumstances—as do the moms living everyday ordinary mom-lives. Great courage.

As I pray, I see their faces and hear their stories: The mom of a special needs daughter, now 12, who doctors thought would never live past the age of one. The mom whose daughter is struggling with school, while meanwhile, her husband has been out of work for over a year. The mom who asked, “Do you ever wonder when the rewards come?” The mom who told me how prayer calmed her special needs baby when nothing else would. And, even closer to home, my own daughter-in-law, lying on the couch weak and sick in her first-trimester pregnancy, but still amazing me at the good mother she is to my three-year-old grandson.

Amazing moms. And I know they represent all of you out there. So I’m praying for all of you.

It’s one of the “fringe benefits” of life on my back!

Random Thoughts on Mums, Moms, and Watering our Roots

2008-10-06T16:15:00.003-05:00

Any of you who know much about me know that I am not a gardener.

But I do love flowers—those that other people plant and tend and care for. And I love Fall. I love pumpkins and colorful gourds and brilliant mums. Especially mums.

Our local supermarket has the most gorgeous chrysanthemums displayed in huge pots just waiting to be brought home and placed in the big stone urns in the front of my house. They’re absolutely spectacular—explosions of red and gold and bronze, colors that would look fantastic in our front yard.

But here’s the hitch: They have to be watered. Even non-gardener that I am, I do realize plants have to be watered. But I was hoping maybe mums didn’t need to be watered very often. I was hoping this because I am just about to begin a stretch of intense travel during which I will be home only 3 or 4 days in the next three weeks. That would leave Woody to water the mums.

Which will not happen.

Please understand: I am not blaming him for this. I am just observing the stresses of his daily schedule and not wanting to put anything more on him. I am also being realistic about past experiences.

So that’s why I asked the girl watering the chrysanthemums outside my supermarket yesterday how often they need to be watered. I was hoping she would say, “Oh, you know it’s funny. mums just don’t seem to need much water. They almost seem to thrive on neglect. They stay brilliant and happy whether they’re cared for or not.”

But that’s not what she said. You probably guessed that, many of you being gardeners yourselves. “Oh, they need water frequently,” she said. “Probably at least every other day.”

Rats! (as Linus would say) No mums for me this year, I guess.

I walked away thinking about how much mums and relationships are alike. They both need regular tending. Husbands do. Children do. Moms do. Maybe especially moms. Which is why our goal at Mom To Mom is helping you to keep your roots watered by the refreshing streams from God’s Word that can flow into our real everyday lives through prayer.

And if your roots are watered, you’ll be much better at keeping those relational roots watered in your own home.

As I walked away from those beautiful mums yesterday, I prayed two prayers. First: “Lord, please let my words water the roots of moms through Your Word everywhere I go. With every word spoken or written. In listening as well as speaking. In word and in deed. Young moms and older moms—we all need watering!”

And there was another prayer: “Lord don’t let me forget—even in this busy upcoming time of travel—how much my own roots need constant watering through your Word and prayer. And help me keep the roots of my own relationships watered. With Woody especially, as I’ll be away a lot over the next few weeks. And with my precious kids and grandkids, even though my ‘watering’ has to be via email and phone more often than in person. I want to live—as well as teach about—a well-watered life.”

So, if you’re lucky enough to have beautiful mums gracing your yard, don’t forget to water them. But more importantly, remember that husbands and children—and you, yourself, Mom!—need watering even more often.

A well-watered mum—or mom—is so much more fun to have around the house!

Mom-questions, Imperfections, and Beautiful Music

2008-09-28T09:40:00.001-05:00

I just finished doing two things—reading today’s entry in the classic devotional Streams in the Desert and reading a list of 27 profound questions from moms in an Atlanta-area Mom To Mom which I will be visiting later this week. They have asked me to do an informal Q&A time with them and have submitted some questions for me to think about ahead of time.

Wow, do they have good questions! They have given me plenty to think about. I certainly do not have all the answers. It’s humbling even to have them asking me these questions. Asking me—imperfect mother as I was (and am) and “bear of little brain.” (Isn’t that what Winnie the Pooh used to say? Do any of you still read Winnie the Pooh stories to your kids?)

As I was pondering these questions, a quote came to mind: I’m just “one beggar telling another beggar where to find food.” And it struck me that that’s what Mom To Mom is all about. As teachers and leaders and mentors and fellow-moms, all of us try to share as much wisdom as we can. We can share what we have learned from our mistakes as much as our small successes. But most of all we’re one mom telling another mom where to get help and find food.

Which takes me back to today’s entry in my devotional book. The story is told about the great violinist Paganini finding himself on the stage ready to begin a big performance only to discover that his invaluable master violin had been stolen and replaced with the inferior one he held in his hand. Here’s what he said to the audience: “Ladies and gentlemen, I will now demonstrate to you that the music is not in the instrument but in the soul.”

Not in the instrument, but “in the soul.”

This story penetrated my heart on two levels. First, with the reminder that mothering is really all about the soul. All of our tools and strategies and great ideas are helpful. But what matters most in a mom, what profoundly impacts our kids, is who we are at soul level.

Then, looking at this story through a slightly different lens, it struck me how God is playing the music; we are merely the instruments. And He, the Master Musician, can play beautiful music even through us, imperfect instruments that we are.

That takes some pressure off us, doesn’t it? It also underscores how important it is that we keep in tune with the Master Musician, the One who orchestrates our lives and the lives of our children. As imperfect as we are, He can make beautiful music through us. Even when we don’t have all the answers.

Dublin Delivery

2008-09-18T21:42:00.002-05:00

No, the baby’s not here yet—Erika actually has a couple of months to go. I’m talking about a different kind of delivery: the one Woody and I made last weekend on a quick trip to Dublin. We flew there with four fully-packed suitcases and flew home with two half-empty ones. And in between, did we have fun!

We had several reasons for this trip—as if any mom and dad need a reason to visit their daughter and son-in-law! Most importantly, we wanted to see our daughter pregnant, as she really didn’t look very pregnant when she was here last June. We also wanted to help her set up a little nursery for the baby. And, we had a bunch of shower presents to deliver—from the shower I told you about last June. If any of you have mailed anything internationally recently, you will understand why we wanted to bring as much with us as we could. Of course the suitcases did have to expand even a bit more after I got back from a “pink-binge” at the mall just before leaving last week. A first granddaughter, after all…

As it turned out, we also got to help Erika and Richie move, since our trip came at just the right time when they were “moving house,” as they say in Ireland, from one apartment to another. I’m sure you’re getting the picture by now—it was a very full weekend!

We actually worked pretty hard, and enjoyed every moment of it. We were able to set up a few things for the baby: a crib (a “cot” in Ireland), a changing table, and even my Nana-obsession—a nursing rocker. (Every new mama needs a rocker.) These furniture items all came “flat-packed.” And I can tell you I am still thanking God that Woody is good at putting things together, as that’s definitely not one of the gifts God gave me.

We were able to finish cleaning out one apartment and begin some of the settling process in another. In between, we even managed to squeeze in a coffee here or there and a few dinners out. And something else I love to do: We got to worship at Erika and Richie’s church, a warm and intimate “Saturday@Five” service held in a stately old Irish Presbyterian church. I always look forward to worshiping with them.

But best of all, as you can imagine, was just seeing Erika and Richie and feeling that baby within. She’s pretty active these days. And though her wildest hours seem to be when Erika’s in bed, we were able to feel a few kicks and somersaults-in-process even in the daytime. Well worth a trip to Ireland and back!

Speaking of the trip back…it’s funny how the trip home always seems so much longer than the trip there. It is actually a bit longer on the clock (wind currents or something like that). But of course the distance is really measured in a mother’s heart.

As I said goodbye to Erika, knowing that the next time I see her she will probably be a mama (we’re still working on how to time my trip over to help her when the baby comes), I was reminded how profound Erika’s blog post was on control versus trust. Somehow it takes extra trust for this mama to entrust my “baby” to the far-away Irish healthcare system to properly deliver her baby. But no matter where she is having the baby, there will be plenty that’s out of my control. Plenty that needs to rest in the hands of God.

Being a mama is all about trust, isn’t it? Let’s keep praying for each other, girls!

Mississippi “Happy”

2008-09-11T21:14:00.002-05:00

What a great weekend I had in Madison, Mississippi, with the Mom To Mom women at Broadmoor Baptist Church. They are one great group of women, let me tell you—and beautiful besides, as you can see from the pictures.

They welcomed me with such warm and elegant Southern hospitality that at one or two points I half expected Rhett or Scarlett to walk through the door. I loved listening to them. That beautiful soft speech makes everything somehow sound a little easier, doesn’t it? And I even learned a new word or two.

One of those words was a new definition for “happy.” One of the leaders was telling me how she liked to bring the moms in her group a “little happy” whenever she could. It sounded like a noun—a “happy.” So of course I had to ask about it. For you girls north of the Mason-Dixon line (or maybe just outside Mississippi), a “happy” is a little treat or surprise . . . some small gift that will brighten their day—or week—or month.

I was picturing M&M’s—of course!

I was actually given a “happy” by one of the groups I spoke to—a package of Mississippi Cheese Straws. And let me tell you, they make you happy!

But what made me happiest of all was to see these moms reaching out to one another with the love of Jesus. As I travel around and visit with moms, I am always struck at how similar our needs, worries, challenges, and opportunities are as moms no matter what part of the country we live in or even what age our kids are. We all need encouragement. We all need energizing. We all need help in this most challenging job of raising the next generation—and influencing generations to come! Especially, we all need prayer—and the power of God in our lives.

That’s why a rather obscure verse came to my mind this morning as I prayed for Mom To Mom groups all over the country— the group in Madison, but also and especially some “Wednesday MTM’s” in Texas and North Carolina and New Jersey and Illinois and Wisconsin. (BTW, if you want to be on my prayer list, please write in to momtomom.org and let us know where you are and when you meet!)

I thought of Psalm 68:11. In the KJV it reads: “The Lord gave the word: great was the company of people that published it.” But apparently the word for “people” here is feminine. The Holman Christian Standard Bible translates the last part of this verse: “a great company of women brought the good news.”

A great company of women brought the good news. Isn’t that a wonderful thought? Isn’t that what we’re doing through Mom To Mom? That’s why praying for Mom To Mom women all over the country makes me very, very happy!

And now I’m off to finish packing my bags for Ireland—a quick trip to help Erika get the nursery set up for that little lady due in November. A suitcase full of pink stuff . . . Talk about happy!

Reunion Thanks

2008-09-05T18:47:00.005-05:00

Have you ever had a time when all you could say is “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Jesus”? And you just couldn’t stop saying it?

Last weekend was like that for me. We got to see Lars again! Lars’ inlaws, Kelly’s wonderful parents Connie and Rob Lawrence, graciously hosted a wonderful mini-reunion at their lovely home in Kiawah, South Carolina. Though not all family members could be there (we sure missed Erika and Richie, but were so glad Bjorn and Abby and Soren could come), we had a fabulous time together.

We walked the beach, watched Bengt do “super-Bengts” in the pool and model his goggles, had a grand time watching cousins Bengt and Soren play together, and hung out in the kitchen or on the porch in rocking chairs and talked.

It was great to see Lars looking so good and fit and well and happy. It was wonderful to see him back with his family. It was great (well, most of the time—some of the stories were a little scary, at least for a mom) to hear Lars talk more about what everyday life for him at Al Asad in Iraq was like.

But most of all, it was just so good to be able to hug him again. He always was a good hugger. And even being a Marine hasn’t changed that.

And it was good to have a time to praise God together, read some Psalms together, and thank God for Lars’ safe return. And now that so many of you have prayed with me for Lars, please join me in my “thank you thank you thank you Jesus!” And don’t forget to keep praying for all our troops, home or deployed.

Switching subjects… Wasn’t Erika’s blog great? Far more profound than she actually knows now. That control/ trust issue is a lifelong challenge for a mom, isn’t it? Thanks to those of you who wrote comments to encourage her. I still hope you’ll write some more so she’ll be spurred on to future blogs.

And now I must run and pack my bag for Madison, Mississippi. I’m so excited because I’m going to be down there at Broadmoor Baptist this weekend with a whole bunch of moms at their Mom to Mom groups. Which reminds me . . . I’d love to come speak with your group. If you’re interested in finding out more about my speaking, check out lindaandersonministries.blogspot.com, where my publicist Candace Keck will tell you much more. She’s a really fun person and keeps the blog a fun place to visit!

Off to Mississippi—maybe I can get some pictures to share with you when I get back.

Happy weekend!

Thy Mercy, O God

2008-08-21T15:54:00.005-05:00

I am really excited about this next blog entry. It’s written by my daughter Erika: the selfsame daughter who’s going to have a baby in November. The Erika we had a shower for last June (See “Baby Talk” entry from May 31). And that was before we knew she and Richie are expecting a girl. Yes, Woody and I are going to have a granddaughter. We are overjoyed!

And now let me introduce Erika’s first blog entry, written from the mom-to-be point of view. And from Ireland. You may even notice a few “Irishisms” in her writing. As American as Erika is, Richie-speak” has rubbed off on her. I hope you’ll enjoy meeting Erika, and even consider writing back to her. Every mom-to-be could use a little encouragement, right? Just like every mom!

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It’s Saturday morning, 10:20 am. I am sitting in a small “breakfast room” in our kitchen (by breakfast room I mean a two-seater table at one end of our kitchen) with a lovely mug of coffee (a red mug from Crate and Barrel—one of my favorite wedding presents!). Richie, my husband, is still asleep upstairs and the only sound I hear is the humming of his alarm going off (which has gone off several times—the “snooze button” is a great invention isn’t it?).

This is the highlight of my week. I work in a school/day care centre (we say “crèche” in Ireland) and it is a non-stop, go-go-go life for me in my Montessori classroom of young 3-year-olds. I treasure my quiet Saturday morning with coffee by the computer catching up on emails, or sitting with my journal.

In just over 3 months however, this morning will look very different! You see, as I’m typing this I’m already feeling an eager young life inside me, jumping, flipping, and kicking, eager for her chance in this world—the life of a developing baby girl. A baby girl who will be my daughter!

A baby girl.

My mind is constantly trying to grasp this idea—the idea that I will be a mother, that Richie will be a father, that pretty soon Saturday mornings won’t be quiet coffee time but will be filled with attempts at breast-feeding, crying (probably crying from me and the baby), dirty nappies (diapers), and efforts to soothe and comfort a small, dependent baby.

And as I think of those things, the early days with a baby, I am thankful for two things. First, that my mother will be here to help (you are planning on staying for 6 months, right, Mom?) But mainly, I’m thankful for something that has been a recurring thought in my mind throughout my whole pregnancy so far—I’m thankful for God’s mercy for me despite my desire to control, rather than to trust.

I do pretty well at controlling my life and the situations around me. I say this a bit tongue-in-cheek, because for me, the reason I am good at controlling my life is because I find it very hard to trust God. So often it’s easier for me to control rather than to rest in the truth that God is capable of redeeming—or even using—my mistakes or “dropped balls.” And I feel that while I’m scurrying around, picking up the pieces that I or others have dropped, I hear faint whispers from God saying, “Erika, rest. I can do this.”

Most of the time, I continue on in my flurry.

Why do I continue on? Why do I insist on doing things myself when God is offering rest? Do I really believe that God will take care of these things for me? Will He get the house tidied, or make the meals, or engage in conversation with my husband after I’ve had a long day of kids needing me constantly? No, probably not. But will He maintain peace and harmony in my house even if it’s a mess? Will He provide good health for my family even if we have to order take out or have frozen pizzas tonight? Will He provide me with the strength to engage my husband and care for him even when I’m totally spent?

Yes.

Is that hard as all get out to believe at times? Yes. And my flesh cries out to do it myself: To feel the adrenaline of having things under control, to look like “super woman”—or “super mom” in your case.

But when I’m trying to be Super Woman I’m missing out on deeper things of God. I’m missing out on a moment with Him, on knowing fuller His promise of provision (a provision that goes deeper than an orderly house or homemade meal), and the meaning of the phrase, “my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” My heavenly Father is wanting to give me a kiss and I’m turning my face away from him to get back to cleaning my kitchen.

So here I am, almost 6 months pregnant, and have found myself in a position that I cannot control. The life of this little girl growing inside me is only dependent on me to a certain extent. I can eat properly, exercise wisely, avoid certain activities. But her developing body, her organs, and her health and wholeness are God’s alone to look after and provide. This has been such a lesson in trust, and such an encounter with mercy. When I worry about her, all I can do is go to the feet of my Father and pray that he will protect her. But I also pray that He will help me to trust Him. And I praise Him that He will have mercy on me when I don’t and can’t trust Him.

And He will do the same for you.

When you find yourself rushing around trying to sort out lunches, carpooling, cleaning, and family schedules, and you get wrapped up in activities, my hope is that He will remind you that HE IS ENOUGH. That though all those things are important, they are small in the grand plan He has for you and your family. And my hope for you is the same as my hope for myself: that we will take Him up on His offer to provide, that we will be able to “drop balls” trusting that He will care for the situation and that through it we will know Him more intimately.

And we can praise Him for the fact that even when we find ourselves incapable of trusting, or not wanting to trust, wanting to do it ourselves, that He will have mercy on us and will continue His provision and protection.

I want to finish this off with the lyrics to a song that has recently been an anthem for me. It’s an old hymn that has been re-done by a compilation group called “Indelible Grace” (I highly recommend any and all of their CDs! See www.igracemusic.com). —Erika

Thy Mercy My God

Thy mercy my God is the theme of my song
The joy of my heart and the boast of my tongue.
Thy free grace alone from the first to the last
Hast won my affection and bound my soul fast.

Without thy sweet mercy I could not live here
My sin would reduce me to utter despair
But through thy free goodness my spirits revive
And he that first made me still keeps me alive.

They mercy is more than a match for my heart
It’s wondrous to feel its own hardness depart
‘Tis all by thy goodness I fall to the ground
And weep to the praise of the mercy I’ve found.

Great Father of mercy, thy goodness I own
And the covenant love of thy crucified Son
All praise to the spirit whose whisper divine
Seals mercy, and pardon, and righteousness mine.

Safe Home

2008-08-10T20:28:00.002-05:00

Lars is home!!!! I am overjoyed to be able to share with you that our Marine Captain son is home from Iraq. At 2:30 pm on Friday, August 8, his C-130 landed at his base at Cherry Point. And Lars is now home with his wife Kelly and nearly-three-year-old son Bengt in New Bern, NC.
Can you imagine our joy? Our overflowing gratitude? It is, really, almost beyond words. In my head, I keep bursting forth with the Doxology.

We have not yet seen him. We all felt their little family needed some time to reconnect and adjust before any larger family celebrations; those will come Labor Day Weekend. But it is so good to talk with him and know his voice is coming from safe in the USA. And the pictures tell the story: he is back where he belongs—home with Kelly and Bengt.

In Ireland they have a custom I love. When you’re leaving a home where you’ve visited—even for a short time—they say as you leave, “Safe home, now, safe home.” Lars is “safe home.” We praise God! Thank you thank you thank you Jesus!

I also want to thank the many of you who have prayed for him and his family and for us. And I want to ask you please not to stop praying. For all the troops. For the Marines who flew into Lars’ base in Iraq to replace those who came home. And for the men and women all over the world whose families are now praying and waiting for them to come home just as we have for Lars.

Actually, our prayers go even deeper than that, don’t they? We pray for all our children—living at home or grown, single or married, military or civilian—to come “safe home.” Yes, to us and to their families. But even more, safe home to the Lord who wants to make His home in their hearts until we’re all “safe home” with Him.

It’s my prayer for you and for all your children: Safe home, now, safe home.

Doing More Than You Think

2008-08-01T18:48:00.003-05:00

Recently I made a very long journey. It was not that long in actual miles (just over 100) or in hours (2-3 each way). But it was a very long journey of the heart.

Woody and I drove down to Wheaton, Illinois, where I grew up and where both of us went to college. The reason for our trip was a sad one: a memorial service for my Aunt Ruth, my mother’s sister. But it also gave us opportunity to drive around several suburbs (Woody spent much of his early life in neighboring towns) that were the scenes of our childhood and teen-to-young-adult years.

As we drove by one place after another where I had lived (my mom was a realtor, so we lived in a number of different homes), I was swept back in time.

I could almost see the kids skating on the driveway on hot summer days at one house—and feel the sunburn I had the next day which, being a Sunday, meant I had to dress up and wear a “prickly dress.” I think it was dotted swiss material—anyone remember that?

Another home reminded me of our crazy standard poodle who actually climbed trees—at least, the tree right across the street, which had some low branches to get him started. A third house was the place we planned our wedding, and where, on the Big Day, an unplugged cord to the clock in my room almost made me late to my own wedding!

There must have been thousands of memories.

But many of them were on a deeper level. I thought constantly of my parents, both of whom now have gone on to be with the Lord. I thought of all the ups and downs that took place over the years in those homes we lived in. The good times, the hard times, the just day-to-day “normal” (whatever that is!) times which take place in all our lives.

Most of all, I thought of my parents’ faithfulness through it all: faithfulness to each other, to their children, and—above all—to God. Most of their days probably seemed pretty mundane. My dad was a hard-working college professor, interim pastor, writer, reluctant Mr. Fix-it, and even part-time farmer. (At one point, Wheaton College professors were given some land on which to plant vegetable gardens to supplement their meager salaries!) My mom was a part-time realtor who managed to “be there” for my brother and me even while juggling many roles as wife, daughter, sister, mother, and realtor.

I’m sure they had no idea how profoundly some of their “everyday” routines would impact generations to come. They had no idea that my brother and I knew that Dad was on his knees in the early-morning hours at his “prayer chair” in our little living room. Or that Mom, a bit later, read her red-lined Bible at the kitchen table. Or that the two of them knelt by their bed every night.

They surely didn’t realize, either, what an impression it made on us that Mom was always home for us after school (well, almost always—occasionally her realtor role had to take precedence, but rarely) so we could pour out all the important events of the day—or at least I could—I’m not sure my brother was quite as chatty! Or the picture my brother and I carry in our minds of Dad’s study door at the top of the stairs: it was always open. Clearly he was hoping we’d pop in and drop in one of the chairs across from his desk to share the latest in our lives.

And when they were reading us Bible stories as part of “family devotions” around the old yellow formica table in our kitchen, did it look as if we were paying any attention at all?

Lifelong imprints, these memories, that have profoundly affected not only my brother and me, but also our children—and now their children. It kind of reminds me of Psalm 78, verses 4–7, where the Psalmist instructs us to “tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, His power and the wonders He has done . . . so the next generation would know them, even the children yet to be born, and they in turn would tell their children.”

I thought of this journey last week when I was singing “Jesus Loves Me” to Soren before he went to bed. I thought of the “children yet to be born” part of Psalm 78. And I thought of you.

I’ll bet most of your days seem pretty mundane. It’s mid-summer. It’s hot. It really doesn’t seem like you’re doing much at all. Certainly not accomplishing anything important.

You might be surprised. That’s why I’m writing about my journey back to my childhood. One thing I forgot to tell you: a couple of the places I lived aren’t even there any more. But the memories are. And the imprints for generations to come.

Hmm. No wonder you’re so tired at the end of a day. You’re doing a lot more than you think!

Ten Days in Toddler Land

2008-07-23T16:25:00.004-05:00

Woody and I have just returned from ten days in another world—the world of a 19-month-old. For one wonderful week we had our grandson Soren to ourselves. And for a few days on either side of that, we shared him with his parents Bjorn and Abby, before and after their one-week trip to Saranac Camp in New York with their Young Life kids.

It was a glorious week. It was an exhausting week. And it was an eye-opening week. It’s been a lo-o-ng time since we parented a toddler!

In a sense, I thought of it as a refresher course on what the lives of so many of you moms are like. Except that it was just a week. And, with both Woody and me there, we were two-on-one, while that is not the case for most of you on a 24/7 basis. It certainly was not that way for me when I was raising toddlers—Woody was hardly home full-time to help me out! And last week we had one child to care for, while many of you have more than one preschooler to keep track of.

Nevertheless, I learned (or more accurately, re-learned) a lot! A few random observations from life in toddlerland:

There’s nothing like a toddler’s smile in the morning. And when they reach out their pudgy little arms to hug you and “pat Nana,” you want to do this forever!

Every day is an adventure. You never know what exciting things you might see just outside your window (like a neighbor organizing a yard sale which fills the driveway with fascinating junk) or on a stroller ride (the world is FULL of motorcycles, fire engines, and horsies when you’re looking for them).

Eating is also an adventure. Not only because you never know where food that starts on your spoon may end up. But also because, if you’re Soren, blueberries and avocados and sweet peppers of all colors are like M&M’s—you just can’t get enough of them! (I know—hard to believe: a toddler who actually loves healthy food! What is Abby’s secret?)

Naps are a little bit of heaven—especially for moms of toddlers (and even more especially for grandparents of toddlers!) They are definitely not to be missed! Take full advantage of them.

If you’re taking care of a not-quite-20-month-old, don’t plan to do anything else in your life. This is a full-time job! Yes, they take naps (I HOPE yours do!) and go to bed early. But you also will need to take naps and go to bed early. So do not plan on writing the Great American Novel (or even a blog, or coherent emails) while they’re sleeping. You need to be sleeping, too!

A day at the beach is different when you go with a toddler. Your beach chair is actually only a place to put things on to keep them off the sand—not a place where you actually sit (although your toddler may sit in it for 3-second intervals now and then) Sand is a wonderful thing—not only for digging and dumping and making crab and turtle shapes, but also as a snack additive: everything tastes better with a little sand in it. Oh—and one other thing: a “day” at the beach is more likely to be 90 minutes than several hours—especially if you value naps (see earlier observation).

There is nothing—absolutely nothing—more fun than eating an ice cream cone. Especially on a hot day at a New Hampshire farm where they also raise goats (aka “gokes”) which you can watch while dribbling your ice cream cone down your shirt. This is living!

Correction: there is something more fun than eating an ice cream cone. It’s watching your child (or grandchild) eat one for the first time. (Although I do highly recommend eating one yourself while you watch.)

I could ramble on and on (after all, I am a grandmother talking about her grandchild). But I have to tell you that even writing this is making my severe “Soren-withdrawal” worse. So I have to move on to other things—like figuring out how I can get Woody’s job moved to New Hampshire, or North Carolina (where Bengt lives) or Ireland (where our granddaughter-to-be lives).

But I do want all of you moms out there to know that I have a renewed appreciation for what you do every day. Not just a week at a time. And not with just one kid. And not with a fellow-caregiver at your side. I always knew you were heroes. I just know better now how exhausting being a hero can be.

And, how wonderful.

The bright eyes and big smiles. The stream of new words. The songs that go through your head even when they’re sleeping (I can’t get the “Fire Truck” song out of my head!) And, oh, those hugs…

Go hug one of your kids for me, will you?

And BTW, thanks to all of you who wrote in or have prayed for our “big kid” in Iraq. I am deeply grateful. He’s due home pretty soon. Stay tuned—and keep praying, please!