Motherhood V: The Faith of a Child
July 7, 2009 by Standing on Truth
Filed under Parenting
A few weeks ago, my son went to the dentist for the first time. He was quite scared. (How do kids know to be nervous about certain people or events if they’ve never experienced them before?) My husband and I tried to assuage his fear by talking to him about what to expect and assuring him that it would be quick and easy (or, piece of cake, as we like to say). We read a kid’s character book to him about some bears that went to the dentist and loved it. A couple of his friends, who loved their first visit so much that they want to be dentists when they grow up, encouraged him and told him how cool this experience would be.
He was still scared. He wasn’t throwing a tantrum or anything, but his face showed his fear.
Then we brought in the big guns. God.
I brought his devotional in the car with us and, in the parking lot before we went in to the dentist’s office, we read Bible verses and thoughts about fear and God’s protection and provision. He and I prayed together. And from that moment on, he was a different boy. He confidently walked in to the office and with very little hesitation, allowed the hygienist and dentist to clean and check all of his teeth. As we were leaving, he said, “I want to come back and do this again tomorrow.”
When I asked him how he got through what he thought would be a scary situation, he said, “I just talked to God. . .in my head.”
The power of prayer as demonstrated through the faith of a child.
A couple of weeks later, he was overwhelmed at the number of new faces all around him at Vacation Bible School, and he was reticent to go into his classroom. After 20 minutes of resisting and crying the day before, I decided to try something different this second day. I took him back out into the hallway and we found a relatively quiet area to talk. I told him that God was with him, and I reminded him about how brave God made him when he went to the dentist. We again prayed together. I walked him into his classroom, stayed about 5 minutes with him as he grew in confidence by the minute, and as I left, I was amazed at the transformation in my child. . .and the difference in him was God.
We know that our job as parents is to “train up a child in the way he should go” (Proverbs 22:6), and “bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord” (Ephesians 6:4), but how often are we aware of how much they can teach us? I learned a very important lesson from my son on those two days. I felt the power of the Holy Spirit move as we prayed, and this child, that was teaching me one of the greatest lessons of life, moved ahead in faith. I was humbled with gratitude for how God spoke to my child, and I am reminded that God loves to see us have the faith of a child, trusting Him as our Father and being transformed by His love.
I pray that I am continually aware of the lessons that God wants to teach me through my son, and that I will have ears to hear and eyes to see. ”Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3).
Motherhood III: Mother’s Day
May 9, 2009 by Standing on Truth
Filed under Parenting
This weekend, we will celebrate Mother’s Day. God has asked us to honor our mothers, and in a moment, I would like to say a word about my own. But we do not just celebrate women who are raising children, we celebrate women who have touched the life of a younger child, given them words of wisdom or a “You-can-do-it!” We celebrate those women who, when faced with the devastating circumstances of infertility, pour their lives into children at their church or in their neighborhood. We celebrate those mothers who have chosen life for their child, rather than abortion, and then asked another family to raise him or her, a family who could give them everything. We celebrate those women who make a difference in children, by teaching them ABC’s, the Word of God, or how to run free with joy in the afternoon sun.
My prayer today is threefold: For those of you who are mothers, may you know that your value is incalculable, your job appreciated, and your affects on your children’s lives is eternal. For those of you who have recently lost your mothers or are estranged, please know that you are not alone and there are people praying for you today. I am praying for you today. For those of you who are not biological or adoptive mothers, for whatever reason, and today is painful for you, also know that the “God of all comfort” is with you today and prayers are being lifted up for you as well. I have no doubt that you’ve touched the life of a young person or two who has looked up to you or learned from you, and to me, that’s the beauty of being a mother, so today, we celebrate you as well.
I want to say a public “Thank You” to my own mother, who (along with my father) introduced me to my Savior nearly 30 years ago. She then modeled what it means to walk in the ways of the Lord, with her heart fixed on Him and transfixed by His love. I shudder to think of what my life could have been like if Jesus wasn’t a central part of it. So, thank you Mom.
To my mother-in-law, I say “Thank You” for raising a man with compassion for others and who has such a capacity to love without condition. He is a wonderful and affectionate father to your grandson, and I know he learned much of that from being loved by you, so thank you.
I’ve received the following email a couple of times over the years. I do not know the author, but it is priceless. I share it with you today. Happy Mother’s Day!
The Invisible Mother
“It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, ‘Can’t you see I’m on the phone?’
Obviously not. No one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I’m invisible.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock to ask, ‘What time is it?’ I’m a satellite guide to answer, ‘What number is the Disney Channel?’ I’m a car to order, ‘Right around 5:30, please.’
I was certain that these weren’t the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She’s going, she’s going . . . she’s gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and felt sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip, and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package and said, ‘I brought you this.’
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: ‘To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.’
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird; on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, ‘Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.’
And the workman replied, ‘Because God sees.’
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, ‘I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become.’
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder, as one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, ‘My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.’ That would mean I’d built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, ‘You’re gonna love it there.’
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.”
For a great laugh, watch and listen as comedian Anita Renfroe sings to the William Tell Overture all the things a mom would say in a 24 hour period:
