3 Ways To Make Your Marriage Even Better On Mother’s Day
May 10, 2012
There’s something about runny eggs and lumpy pancakes served by dimpled hands and chubby cheeks that makes my mom-heart all a-flutter. So, what does marriage and Mother’s Day have to do with one another? Alot.
As much as I love to watch my own four attempt to honor me, I’ve been known to be a bit cranky on Mother’s Day. No, not with my kids…with my husband.
You see, before our children were old enough to attend school where teachers orchestrate toothpick gifts and clay creations, the brunt of this day would fall on guess who? My husband.
After giving birth to my fourth child only weeks before Mother’s Day, I was sure Paul was going to celebrate my day with a five-course gourmet breakfast and a Blue Angels fly-over. When my little Gracie climbed up into my bed and whispered almost in tears, “Mommy, Daddy didn’t take us to get anything for you.” The fury of an angry postpartum lioness possessed my mom-body.
In an attempt to salvage the day, Paul ran out and purchased a plant from a guy selling Harley Davidson throw rugs.
No, I never expected him to buy me anything grand or even expensive. But, after delivering him a ten pound son, I expected him to have our kids at least draw me a squiggly picture and maybe bring me some cold French Toast with a side of lukewarm orange juice.
If you’re lucky enough to have an amazing husband that takes your little ones and circles the wagons around you this Sunday—good for you.
But, for those of us with incredible husbands who lack wisdom on a day they blame on Hallmark, here’s my 3 tips for keeping your marriage intact:
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Mute Button. Keep your thoughts to yourself. Expectations have a way of muddying the marriage waters. Be grateful for whatever your husband does orchestrate with your little ones. Even if that means he’s running out to purchase a bouquet of wilted flowers from a guy at the gas station on his way home from church. Your kids are watching. Hold that tongue. You’ll be happy you did. I promise.
Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger. James 1:19
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Order Out . It keeps the peace. Nothing says “I love you Mom” like Chinese take-out. Remind your husband of the nearest restaurant by leaving the phone number on a sticky-note on his iPhone—or his forehead.
And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace. James 3:18
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Marriage is Forever. Remember, you made a vow. You told God and your husband that you would love him for better or worse. That includes his poor Mother’s Day habits. Remember, marriage is forever—Mother’s Day is only once a year.
When you vow a vow to God, do not delay paying it, for he has no pleasure in fools. Pay what you vow. It is better that you should not vow than that you should vow and not pay. Ecclesiastes 5:4-5
After fifteen years of marriage, my husband still oversees Mother’s Day with the kids. I’ve learned gift-giving is not my husband’s love language, but, acts of service definitely are. I recently shared with him, “I think I know what I want for Mother’s Day.”
“What?” His voice cracked.
“I’d love it if the kids (you) cleaned out the garage and maybe took a run to the dumps. We need to have a garage sale before we move.”
“Okay. Sounds good to me. How about we make you a nice breakfast before we get to work?” He smiled, looking relieved.
Now, let me share something with you. Cleaning the garage is going to happen no matter what. We’re moving. It’s a no-brainer. So, why would I ask him to do something like that for me on Mother’s Day?
Because I know it makes him feel good to serve me like that. Plus, he’s a great dictator and is energized after telling the kids what to do for hours.
What would I really like for Mother’s Day?
Runny eggs and lumpy pancakes sound good to me.
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When God Says Get Out of the Boat–Get Out of that Boat!
May 4, 2012
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Does Paul have a job lined up?” Nope.
he sees businesses leaving California in droves. State legislation and tax burdens are too much for them.
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Trading Earthquakes for Tornadoes
April 30, 2012
I’m expecting the blog-police to show up and arrest me for neglect. I used to write on my blog almost daily.Yeah, it’s been quiet around here. I’ve been a little preoccupied. Why do I have this lovely white stormtrooper helmet over here? I’ll share why in a minute. For now…
Ready for a few excuses?
- Our oldest daughter is graduating from college in a few days.
- Our oldest son is graduating from high school in a few weeks.
- I’ve been speaking at MOPS groups, women’s conferences and the likes.
- Working on my next book proposal. My agent has been extremely patient.
- We’re moving.
- Far away.
- I have to have my house packed and ready to leave in 55 days.
But, who’s counting?
Our family is leaving the west coast and moving south – Tennessee to be exact. There’s quite a bit I’m looking forward to. And, as you can imagine, quite a bit I’m not looking forward to…like saying goodbye to my family and friends.
Still, there’s a little something that has me a teensy bit concerned.
Tornadoes.
I’m a fourth generation-Californian. I know an earthquake when I feel one. Growing up only thirty minutes from San Francisco, I was around for the “big one” in 89′. As a matter of fact, I know people who were first-responders to the collapse of the Cypress structure in Oakland. It was a very sad thing. But, to be honest, I’ve probably felt two dozen earthquakes in my forty-four years. Earthquakes aren’t scary.
Seriously. They’re not.
What I find scary is a black vortex of death racing towards your home and sucking up everything in its path. Sure, you get a little notice. But, who cares? It’s not like you can do anything except listen to your house exploding and imploding. However the wind decides to beat up your home.
My husband thinks I’m overreacting. I told him recently, “Have you checked out those YOUTUBE videos of the Nashville area I sent you?”
“No.”
“Why not? You need to see that tornadoes are very real down there!”
“Because, you’re worrying over nothing. And, I for one, don’t want to take a ride on your anxiety-train.”
How he can be so calm? After researching how many tornadoes have touched down in Tennessee since 1856, I decided to google “mom blog Tennessee tornadoe” because I knew for sure I would find a reliable, truth-telling mom-blogger source. And, I did.
Except, what she shared made my stomach flop.
When the tornadoe sirens sounded, I grabbed my little ones and ran into the pantry, grabbing our bicycle helmets along the way.
Did she say bicycle helmets?
“Paul! Hey, I just read a mom-blog from Nashville. This gal puts bicycle helmets on her and her kids when they take cover, on her dog too. I think it’s time I get a few new bike helmets.”
Silence
“Did you hear me, cutie? I’m going to purchase a big ol’ bicycle helmet and I’m going to wear it…”
Paul shouted from the other room, “You’re seriously going to wear a bike helmet when we’re living there? Would you like to guarantee our kids will be beat up at school?”
“Yes. I most certainly am. I plan on wearing that thing as soon as tornadoe season begins.”
“Oh brother…” He huffed.
If you happen to be in the Nashville area next tornadoe season, I’ll be the one wearing this white helmet to the grocery store, the library, and even my kids sports events. One can never be too careful.
…and don’t you dare bring up floods. I’m not even going there.
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For What It’s Worth, You’re Worth More
March 22, 2012
When you’re a parent, the greatest learning opportunities often come at the most inopportune times. I experienced one of these moments in the gift wrap aisle at our local Dollar Store.
We’d stopped off to pick up a couple of things. Walking inside, our children ran off in different directions. My husband, Paul, followed me around as I gathered what I needed. By the time we made our way to the gift wrap aisle children were buzzing around us once again. Our youngest was quiet. At eight-years-old, Samuel normally was a handful-of-chatter. While deciding on a bag of birthday balloons I asked, “Samuel, you’re awful quiet today son. Is everything okay?”
He looked up at me, “How much does a foster kid cost?”
I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. “How much does what cost?”
“How much does a foster kid cost?” He repeated. “My new friend in class is a foster kid. He doesn’t have a family. Do we have enough money to buy him?”
Words caught in my throat. Thankfully, my husband Paul was quick to respond. “Well, I’m not sure if we do son. But, have you even thought this through Samuel? If you had someone living with us your age you would have to share your room.”
“I don’t care about that Dad. I feel bad he doesn’t have a family and he wants one.”
Finding my voice, I asked, “So, how much do you think your friend costs?”
“He doesn’t know Mom. He said he thinks he’s free, but he’s going to ask his foster family tonight. He’s going to meet me tomorrow at lunch to tell me how much he’s worth.”
Samuel’s words stopped me cold. He’s going to meet me tomorrow at lunch and tell me how much he’s worth.
That was all it took. On came the water-works, crying right there in the middle of the gift wrap aisle. My husband distracted our son while I stepped away to search for a tissue in my purse. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that my son’s new friend was trying to figure out what he was worth.
As a foster child, his loss highlighted the value of family. His greatest desire was to belong to someone who would love him. So much so, for the sake of being loved, he was more than willing to hand his life over to the lowest bidder.
I understand there are many factors that come into play to make someone question their own value. But it didn’t stop the questions from pressing heavy upon me. Why doesn’t this child know what he’s worth? God, this child is no different than so many adults I know. How can people not understand their value? Should I be the one to tell him he is fearfully and wonderfully made? Lord, who will tell him You have a plan for his life?
With the economic climate today, it’s no surprise people struggle with their own self-worth. The loss of a job, the loss of a marriage or a home are all things we think define our value in this world. Peripheral status quo we are tricked to believe makes a difference to our carbon footprint on this earth.
Do you realize how precious you are to the Lord? He says you are the apple of His eye (Zechariah 2:8), that your worth is far above rubies (Proverb 31:10), that He even knows the number of hairs on your head (Luke 12:7).
Your value in God’s eyes makes the Hope Diamond look like a gum ball trinket.
So, what are you really worth? It’s the creator or owner of a thing that determines its value, marking the price and deciding its worth. Our value is in the hands of our creator. We were created by Him and for Him. (Colossians 1:16) Paul reminds us in 1Corinthians 6:20 and again in 1Corinthians 7:23, “You were bought with a price.”
The redeeming love of Christ paid our eternal ransom. Heavenly currency personally handed over by the blood-stained hands of Jesus to His Father, for your very soul.
Charles Spurgeon once said, “Redeeming love is the theme of Heaven. When you reach the upper realms, your most important memory will not be that you were wealthy or poor in this life, nor the fact that you sickened and died, but that you were “bought with a price.””
Yet, daily, people are being spiritually rocked to sleep, believing the lies of the world. You aren’t special. Your life really isn’t all that important. Nobody loves you. Either unaware or not understanding that God marked our price on Calvary. And because of that blessed day God sees us through holy spectacles of His only son’s worth. What kind of love is this? A love beyond measure.
If we struggle to understand our worth it’s because we don’t understand Christ’s worth.
When I recall the look on my son’s face, when he asked how much his friend cost I ache. What pain the Lord must feel when we treat our lives as worthless or of little value.
I made a phone call to this young boy’s foster parents when we got back from the store. I introduced myself and set up a time to let our boys play together. Days later, amidst slides and swings, I shared with my new friend her foster son’s struggle to understand his worth. Her eyes welled up with tears.
“He’s such a sweet boy. And, he’s really taken to our family. We haven’t told him yet, but we’re moving forward with his adoption.”
Adoption—the quintessential definition of value. Hand-picked by someone to love you forever.
Are you one of those people who need a remedial lesson to understand your value or worth? Or is God’s Word enough? The next time you attempt to put a price tag on your life–for what it’s worth, you’re worth more.
