Mercy

Do you remember when I was learning about humility? Well, lately, it’s been mercy. I like to say I am “mercy challenged.”

…

His name was Michael. He was selling Clear Miracle Citrus, $50 cleaner, which I surely didn’t need. I’m frugal, people! And I rarely buy things from anyone who comes to my door. But there was something about him…something about that moment. He was trying so hard — with all his heart, all his might — to get me to buy this. In my head, I ask “Lord, what is this about? What do I do?” In that moment, I look back up into his deep brown eyes and he says, “You see, I made a promise to the Lord that I wouldn’t go back to selling drugs, to living the way I was.”

And I knew. Any excuses I would have put forth about how I, a stay at home Mom, don’t have 50 extra dollars were refuted by my four year old son marching around in his $35 storm trooper helmet I had bought him that morning, just because (which I also never do). I didn’t have money for that either.

So I bought some Clear Miracle cleaner. And we talked about how hard it was going to be and about what he might do when it got hard. And I said I would pray for him, for the next year. And I have. Not every single day. But when he comes to mind, which he has. A lot. Especially when I see the piece of paper with his name on it. Or the bottle of Clear Miracle. Or this.

Mercy. Some situations, some relationships will never be repaired without the generous application of mercy. God calls us to this. It’s not fun. It doesn’t make sense. It’s humbling. But it matters.

This wasn’t just an isolated moment of clarity. This was a journey. Something I’ve been asking God about for years. and he’s been stringing together his answer — in a song, in a nudge, in a pair of deep brown eyes.

Praise Him. I surely wouldn’t do it without Him.

Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives the transgression of the remnant of his inheritance? You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy. ~Micah 7:18

The scriptures

A. drew these during summer Children’s Worship at our church in response to stories from the Jesus Storybook Bible. Most of the imagery is from that Bible’s [very beautiful] illustrations. These are 3 of my favorites from her oeuvre. I have shared these w/ her permission. She says: “Dedicated to my friends and family.”

A daughter’s eulogy

Hi [cousin]:

Did you hear the news? Michael Jaxen died.
I am so sad.
Also I am thinking we could play store with are seashells.
Email me when you get this email please.
Lots Of Love and Hope,
A.

Letter to my Compassion child

Chere M.,

We are always happy to receive a letter from you. My daughter is always asking me if you have written. She made the enclosed notepad for you to write on.

We are happy, too, to know how to pray specifically for you. James 1:5 says, “If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and he will give it to you.” I pray that you will grow in wisdom and in stature, just as our Lord Jesus Christ did. What is your favorite thing to learn about in school?

I am happy that you were able to buy some Christmas shoes. What do they look like?

We are traveling today. It is sunny and warm. My husband’s mother has been a widow for many years, but on Saturday she will marry again at age 82. God has been faithful to her. It will be a happy day. My children will wear their new shoes. We will think of you.

God bless you and keep you. We love you and are praying for you.

Sincerely,

Elaine

M lives in Rwanda and is the same age as our daughter.

Dear S.

You are four, and your enthusiasm is contagious. I love hearing you sing in the bathroom while you’re…doing things people do in the bathroom. Sometimes at the end of the day, waiting for sleep to come, you ask me questions like: “Who will I marry, Mom?” or “Do you know how tall the sky is?”

I love it when you”read” to me in rhyming verse — almost as much as I enjoy seeing you read a book quietly to yourself. You love to paint. I think you are going to be a lefty. You love baseball. I am not very good at pitching to you, so I bought one of those toys that pitches the ball. You did not find it to be to your satisfaction. Guess I will have to practice.

You are my little boyfriend. You are stretching me. I love being your momma.

I wasn’t always your mother

Recently, my daughter and I were reading Before I Was Your Mother by Kathryn Lasky. It occurred to me while we were on a long car ride and I was feeling nostalgic, that this would make a good writing exercise for me. My daughter loves to hear stories about “when I was a girl,” especially sad or scary ones, since she knows they end well. So…here is my version of the story. Feel free to play along and send me a link to your story.

****

You know, I wasn’t always your mother. I used to be a little girl just like you. I had a best friend named Melinda, another named Connie, and a dog named Brownie. We used to pretend to be Nancy Drew and solve crimes all throughout our neighborhood. We baked mud pies in Melinda’s backyard. We formed the Clemson Tiger club; and Melinda’s mother made us shake hands and say we were sorry when we argued.

I wasn’t always your mother who tells you to be quiet when I’m on the phone or to remember to use your inside voice.

Once, Melinda and I sat on her bed singing “Delta Dawn” and “Da do run run” into her tape recorder at the top of our lungs. And then there was the time when Connie and I tried roller skating down the stairs and through her living room.

I wasn’t always your mother who makes a pajama run to school and goes everywhere in fuzzy Crocs until the winter snow piles too high or the summer heat comes.

Once I was a little girl who like to dress Brownie in Grandma’s old hats, who wore smocked dresses, and then graduated proudly to shiny patent leather zippered boots.

I wasn’t always your mother, standing on the ground watching you perform, waving, taking pictures.

Once I was a little girl who climbed high in the tops of her favorite trees, jumping down scraped and sticky with pine sap. I savored long walks in the woods with my mother, holding fast to her hand as we crossed the busy street and stole into Mr. Roberts’ woods. I treasured the tiny souvenirs she would bring home to place on the kitchen table…a pine cone, a pebble, a leaf.

I wasn’t alway your mother, glaring at you, asking if you need a time out, reminding you to be kind to your brother.

Once Aunt Cindy and I wrestled on the floor of our room til we drew blood — after we had taped a “yours” and “mine” “do not cross” line down the center of our room. We needed a time out. After we cooled off, we made up and laughed while we danced in the living room to “Disco Duck” and the Jackson Five.

I wasn’t always your mother telling you the darkness has no power over you and imploring you to practice going to sleep on your own — without me at your side.

Once I was a little girl who dreaded climbing the staircase alone — who played possum on Daddy’s lap so I wouldn’t have to — who turned off the bedroom light, then ran and took a flying leap so the alligators under my bed wouldn’t bite my feet.

Now I am your mother and you are my girl. I snuggle with you and tell you stories about when I was a girl who put on shows in the backyard, played freeze tag, caught lightning bugs, and climbed trees. We make up stories of what we’ll dream about — and I dream of the stories you will share with your little girl someday.

sibilant … sibilant

phh…phhhhhhh…

Is this thing on? Anyone still out there?

I’m firing up the old blog, b/c I saw this great idea at Duckygirl’s and I wanted to play along. I love the idea of actual real thoughtful items that you can see and touch. These are the kind of fun connections that have been such a bloggy blessing to me. So, I hope there are still 5 of you out there who would like to play.

The first FIVE people to respond to this post will get something made by me! My choice. For you.This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:

1. I make no guarantees that you will like what I make!
2. What I create will be just for you.
3. It’ll be done this year. (might be a little while)
4. You have no clue what it’s going to be.It may be a story. It may be poetry, shoes, bags, or a little invention of my own! I may draw or paint something. I may bake you something and mail it to you. Who knows? Not you, that’s for sure!
5. I reserve the right to do something extremely strange. Believe me… it may blow your mind!

The catch? Oh, the catch is that you must repost this on your blog and offer the same to the first 5 people who do the same on your blog. The first 5 people to do so and leave a comment telling me they did win a FAB-U-LOUS homemade gift by me! Oh, and be sure to post a picture of what you win when you get it! Sounds like fun, right? So, let’s play!

…

I feel like I should explain my long bloggy silence, but I don’t really have any explanation other than trying to figure out how FB relates to blogging relates to Twitter relates to the rest of my life and my desire to actually parent my children, read other actual books, and participate in Bible study. So, we’ll just go on from here, eh?

But, while I’m at it, I feel that I should tell you that that sweet little want list down there…the one that’s been sucking up the bloggy space during the long silence…went dreadfully wrong somewhere along the line. Once the toy catalogs came, they were basically cut up and reassembled into one long, giant, unobtainable, thoughtless, greedy blob of want list. (Of course). No, I did not document it; I finally recycled it last week. Who wants to remember that in their old age? It was not pretty, people.

I should also let you know that I have decided to fast from FB and Twitter, and thus blog reading and writing during the Lenten season. So, I’m afraid it’s gon’ be dark here again in a few weeks. Now go live your life. And let me send you something pretty.

The sweetest little “want list” ever

It’s that time of year in our house…the time when a little girl’s fancy turns to presents. She realizes that it’s been a long time since her birthday, her half birthday has passed, she’s getting invited to a lot of birthday parties, 4th of July has passed, there are no more “fun” holidays until Halloween, and she wants a present dangit!

Thus, this is about the time of year when I suggest that said girl should “make a list.” And I secretly love to see how that list changes and evolves as Christmas and birthday draw near — what stays, what stays near the top, and what drops off the list completely. We are practicing delaying gratification. And I am getting to know my little girl.

She was about three when I began to realize this cycle of waiting and wanting was somewhat inevitable. Friends and strangers would inquire and wait with baited breath to hear her heart’s desire. I don’t remember exactly what was on that roughly formed inaugural list, but I do remember it contained about three items, two of which were a ball and a balloon.

So without further ado, here is this year’s List v. 1.0:

ipod
jewelry
Felicity
Mini doodle bear
flute
candy
harp
fashion
history books
vanilla shampoo
fancy shoes
decorations

I love her.

When does it start in your house? And how do you deal with all that pent up desire?

Bean

Wanna caption me?

Works for me Wednesday – I’m the boss of my floss

Look out! In the continuing tradition of my somewhat lame but strangely useful WFMW posts, I’m back with another gee-whiz-how-did-I-not-think-of-that-already tidbit to share. In the morning, I’m tired. At night, I’m tired. And when I’m tired, I don’t like to stand around and do another thing “the man” says I should do.

So, if I can floss sometime in the middle of the day during my ever-shrinking window of productivity, I’m so happy because I am thwarting gum disease AND I won’t have to do it at night when I just want to sneak my bra out the armhole of my shirt and roll over. (Yes, I do manage to brush my teeth at night. But flossing seems to be more than I can handle).

So, fellow lazy bones. Don’t floss at night and feel resentful. Floss at mid-day and feel smug. (All you three times a day happy-flossers need not comment. Just click away.)