Nana's House

When I was a little girl, I loved to go to Nana and Grandpa’s house. I thought it was quite a magical place. A place we could make fudge and popcorn and drink Cokes (both in shorter supply at home as daily staples). A place where Nana seemed to have nothing at all to do but to talk with me.

(This always amazed me, as my mom, who was a part-time realtor and a full-time mom, seemed to have so much to do all the time, in spite of the fact that she truly prioritized spending time with me. Why was it that moms seemed so busy and nanas had so much time?)

My Nana's house was a place where there was always space—and time—for endless games of cards or Monopoly. A place where Grandpa would take me out to his garden to measure how high the corn was growing and to check on his tomato plants and green beans. Where he would fix me an early breakfast of peanut butter on toast while we waited for Nana, a later sleeper, to get up.

Yep, I loved to go to Nana’s house.

But—where do the years go?—now I’m a Nana. How I long for the situation with my grandkids that I had with my grandmother—living in the same town, just a short car-ride between houses. My grandsons live in New Hampshire and North Carolina. And, in case you haven’t looked at a map lately, both of these states are a looong way from Wisconsin. Way too long!


So . . . I don’t get to have my grandsons come to Nana’s house very often. More often it’s easier for them and their parents if we go to them instead of their coming to us. And last Christmas, when we would have all been together here, we gathered instead in Florida to say goodbye to another very wonderful “Nana” (actually named “Nini” by her adoring grandchildren).


But guess what is about to happen? Both Bengt and Soren are coming to Nana and Farfar’s house (They call Woody “Farfar” according to the Swedish name for “father’s father”) in just about one week. Their mommies, Kelly and Abby, are coming too, and also their Aunt Erika, all the way from Dublin. I’ve taken to calling it “Girls’ Camp,” though of course it involves two very special little boys and one very special big one named Farfar.



Do I need to tell you how excited Woody and I are? We just can’t wait! We are having a ball trying to transform “Woody and Linda’s house” into “Nana and Farfar’s house.” Woody and Linda’s house, so filled with books and CD’s and comfortable napping sofas, would surely be a boring place for a very active 2-and- ½ year- old and a nonstop 18-month-old.


Fortunately we have neighbors. Generous, thoughtful neighbors who have kids—quite a few kids between them. And fortunately they have kept a lot of “baby stuff” and miscellaneous toddler entertainments. So this weekend Woody and I will go on scouting trips to a couple of neighboring basements and garages. Quite magical basements and garages which apparently hold not only things like car seats and strollers and booster seats but also wagons and riding toys and—of all things—a backyard roller coaster. Should be fun-filled “one-stop-shopping,” as one neighbor describes her lower level.

Why am I telling you this? I guess I just want you to know how excited this Nana is! But I guess I also wanted to encourage any of you reading this who may be “Nana” (or Grandma or Grammy or Mimi or whatever): You can make a really big—and wonderful—difference in your grandkids’ lives. My grandparents sure did.

And, for those of you readers who are mothers of young children, please remember how very much their grandparents long to see them and spend time with them. Many of you are probably fortunate enough to have grandparents living close by. But for those of you who don’t, keep in mind that a trip to “Nana’s house” might just be worth all the effort—and I know travel with children is a massive undertaking!—not only for your sake and your kids’ sake. But also for that Nana and Farfar waiting on the other end.

Gotta go for now. Time to dig through the basement storage to find out what toys we really did save. Nana’s house must have some good stuff to play with!

Mother’s Day: A Memory Mosaic

So many Mother’s Day memories . . . Some happy. Some sad. Some poignant. Some hilariously funny.

Mother’s Day evokes a host of memories, doesn’t it?

I have always loved Mother’s Day. No, that’s not true. Ever since I became a mom, I have loved Mother’s Day. Before that there were a number of years when Mother’s Day was hard for me. Very, very hard. Especially the year I had just had a miscarriage. And the years before that when I wondered if I would ever become a mom. I dreaded Mother’s Day some of those years.

I’ll bet some of you have memories of Mother’s Days like that, too. Years when you wondered if you’d ever be a mom—or had just lost a baby. Memories of days like that are part of my Mother’s Day memory mosaic—good reason to sit in church on Mother’s Day praying for women who may be sitting there desperately wishing they were mothers.

But then there came the year—the glorious year—when I became a mom. And ever since then I have loved Mother’s Day. When my kids were young, I loved the sticky cards and struggling plants and homemade gifts. I loved the early Mother’s Day morning flurry of activity in the kitchen—even though I hardly dared to think what damage might be done by three kids and a dad whose only excursion into the kitchen was Mother’s Day (Hey, it really wasn’t that hard getting egg whites or whipped cream off the kitchen ceiling—it was worth it!) I loved the procession up the stairs, when they would sing “Happy Mother’s Day to You” and carry a tray with a breakfast for me which they would enthusiastically devour themselves whenever possible. (I used to consider renting my kids out as some kind of a diet plan!) I especially loved the Mother’s Day breakfast menu cards Woody would make, complete with pictures of the kids as well as poignant or funny cards laminated on them. One of my favorite ones pictured The Three Stooges (a favorite with Lars) with flowers. I’ve kept every one of those cards!

As our kids got older, I looked forward to the hilarious cards they would pick out themselves. And the Mother’s Day brunches Woody would plan at a Boston restaurant. Now that our sons are married and have sons themselves, I love to hear about ways they honor their wives on Mother’s Day. Knowing what great mothers my two daughters-in-law are, they deserve pretty special treatment!

I’ve been a mother long enough now—nearly 32 years!—to have a host of Mother’s Day memories for my memory mosaic. And most of those memories form a pattern: a pattern of overwhelming gratitude. Gratitude for the gift of children. For the gift of my children’s spouses. For the gift of my grandsons. For the gift of my own wonderful mom.

Which brings me to a new part of my memory mosaic. Mother’s Day week for me this year has been extra-hard. I find myself missing my mom ferociously. I just so desperately want to call and talk to her. Just one more time . . . ??? Once again, sadness is a part of my Mother’s Day memories. Sadness because this year I don’t have my mom to send a card to. To pick out a gift for. To call on Sunday. I know she is so much better off than she has been any other Mother’s Day. What could be better than spending it with Jesus?!! But still, I miss her. With all the Mother’s Day ads and emails and catalogues, this feels like a long week.


Yet the mosaic still has the same theme, even with the sadness pieced in. The theme is gratitude. Not only am I thankful for my children and grandchildren, I am thankful for my mother. She was my prayer warrior. My best-friend-next-to-Woody. My most patient listener and most enthusiastic cheerleader. A mother who passed on to me a deep love for God and a deep faith. Not everyone has a mother like that—another reason to pray for other women sitting next to you in church this Sunday!
But those of us who do have a great deal to be thankful for on Mother’s Day.

So what does your Mother’s Day memory mosaic look like? For some of you reading this, it may be your first year as a mom. Some of you may have some pre-mom memories like mine. Some of you may be missing your mom as I am. And I’ll bet a lot of you have some pretty funny Mother’s Day memories to share! Please write in and tell us about them. We’d love to laugh—or even cry—along with you.

And while I’m asking for your response, may I remind you that I’m still looking for some stories of Mom To Mom end-of-year activities your groups may have done—or be doing. It’s never too late to tell us about those.

Happy Mother’s Day!

The Happy Traveler

I bet I know what some of you blog readers are thinking. You’re thinking, “Oh my goodness! Linda’s momnesia is even worse than we realized—now she’s even forgotten that she’s a blogger. There have been no new entries in her blog for ages!”

You’re right. It’s been a while! But no, I haven’t forgotten about my blog. I’ve just been traveling—almost nonstop—for most of April. And I’ve been having so much fun I just couldn’t find time to write. I want to share with you some of that fun. But first I want to thank those of you who’ve written in with some of your own “momnesia” stories. I loved the backwards pants and the Barbie phone. About that almost-missed anniversary . . . though I’m not sure how funny that was. But hey, hats off to him for remembering. And I’m sure he really did understand—especially since it was an almost-miss. (smile)


And now, a few words about why my recent travel has been so much fun. Two reasons. First, I got to see both of my grandsons. And since I live in Wisconsin and they live in New Hampshire (Soren) and North Carolina (Bengt), seeing them both in one month is a really big event! And second, I’ve gotten to meet with moms all over the place—Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Tennessee, North Carolina, and Wisconsin. I’ve spoken to all kinds of Mom To Mom groups—some meeting in church fellowship halls, one meeting in a smaller room in a church, and one gathered in a warm, welcoming family room in a home. Besides having a blast, I always learn a lot from times like these.

Just a few random observations from my recent travels:

1. “April” means different things in different parts of the country. In New Hampshire we were still battling a few snowpiles here and there. In Tennessee and North Carolina it was spring! Moms and kids there are already wearing shorts and sandals. They’re playing outside in green yards with blooming trees and plants and shrubs in them! Back home in Wisconsin today, the wind is whistling around my house, and I just returned from a bitter-cold walk in a winter jacket. Oh well—Northern girlfriends, spring will come our way soon, I’m sure. And in the meantime, I wear my sandals now and then just to pretend—and practice!
2. No matter what the weather, moms are hardy souls. In New Hampshire I heard a charming story of a grandma who shoveled her way (yes, shoveled!) through her backyard to have a “picnic” with two of her grandkids in a shed that sounds more like a playhouse than a storage place. (Doesn’t that sound like fun? Makes me wish to be one of her grandchildren!) In North Carolina I met brave and noble Marine wives (including—and especially—my own daughter-in-law) who courageously and creatively support their deployed husbands and single-parent their children with a quiet perseverance and grace that sometimes takes my breath away.I met adoptive moms who opened their hearts and home to special-needs kids, sometimes even after raising several biological children who are just about to make them “empty-nesters.” All kinds of moms. All kinds of kids. All in need of God’s grace and drawing on His strength day by day, hour by hour.
3. There are some pretty cool dads out there, too. I heard of one husband who translates the Mom To Mom lesson every week for his wife so that she can better understand the DVD in a language she is still mastering. Another father showed up at one Mom To Mom to take notes for his wife who had given birth a few hours before but didn’t want to miss the lesson that week. How cool is that?! Another dad, one of my son’s fellow-Marines, became a sort of surrogate dad for an afternoon for my grandson Bengt, jumping and rough-housing all over a backyard trampoline with him and even taking Bengt fishing!
4. Finally (for now), I heard a lot of neat stories of how different Mom To Mom groups are concluding their year. I got to be at one Mom To Mom that had each of the groups review a section of the year’s curriculum. They did it in such creative ways—skits, Family Feud or Deal or No Deal game shows, even a song! Some are having end-of-year brunches or Tex-Mex dinners. One group had a “Dad’s Night at Mom To Mom” last Saturday night at which Woody and I spoke. It was great seeing the husbands nodding to some of the same truths we talk about at Mom To Mom—and especially getting introduced to their wives’ friends and connecting with each other. It also gave opportunity to invite friends and neighbors and introduce them to Mom To Mom.

So here’s my question: What are some of you doing as end-of-year activities at Mom To Mom? I’d love to hear from you, whether you’re a Titus 2 leader or a member-mom. What kind of fun are you having? Please join our blog conversation and share your ideas or experiences. We’d all love to hear from you!

Momnesia, Anyone?

Have you all been hearing lately, as I have, about the postpartum syndrome called “momnesia”? I’m not sure how rigorously it is supported by hard medical research. But don’t you think it’s heartening that at least some researchers are finally recognizing a reality that all of us moms have known for years? Being a mom takes a real toll on your memory (among other things)!

This could explain a lot about the daily traumas of motherhood: like walking to the kitchen, standing before a cupboard, and having no idea at all what you are supposed to be looking for. Or leaving a bag or two of groceries at the store. Or completely forgetting a pediatric appointment—or jury duty—or your telephone number. Or your husband’s name. Little things like that.

Personally, I find it comforting that there’s now a label to describe some of what we moms go through. And perhaps some explanation of the cause—hormones and all that. What I don’t find comforting is how long this condition persists. In my case, a very long time. Far beyond postpartum, post-toddlerhood, and even post-teen years.

Yet it does explain why, for example, I once arrived at a retreat I was to teach on “Biblical Self-Worth for Women” without either my makeup bag or any toiletries at all. Yep, that’s right: No blush, no lipstick—no toothbrush, even. It did, however provide me an opportunity to practice what I preach: A great personal example, as it turned out, of not relying on outward appearance for our sense of worth!

Momnesia may also help explain why I left on another weekend trip to visit one of our kids at college without packing a single piece of underwear. Or why I have been known to drive off with things like a purse or my wallet or—once—a beautifully frosted angel food cake on the roof of my car.

Still, I can’t help but be concerned—especially now that I’m a grandmother—at the persistence of this condition. And I have a feeling it could create some pangs of insecurity in some of my children over leaving the grandkids with me.

However, I want to point out that there is a positive side to momnesia. There really is. Let’s face it: there are some things about motherhood that are better forgotten. For example, I have pretty much blocked out large segments of my years of toilet training my sons (and believe me, I mean years).

It was also recently brought to my attention that I had completely forgotten (repressed, maybe?) a major event in the lives of my two younger children. It was the time a town of Lexington police officer came to our front door to ask me whether I was aware that two of my children were hanging out an upstairs window. I really, truly had no memory of this event. But my daughter insists it created major trauma in her life (fear of jail, wondering if parents were allowed to visit, etc)—despite the fact that her version does not actually involve “hanging out the window” so much as “waving at passers-by through an open window.” Not exactly a “magnificent mom” moment. Definitely better forgotten. (Come to think of it, why did my kids have to bring it up?)

So I’m curious: Any of you experiencing momnesia these days? Any good stories to share?

Or how about your personal list of things you hope you’ll forget?

Recently when I was visiting Bjorn, Abby, and Soren, we all shared one of those moments. It happened in the middle of the night. And no, it wasn’t a baby who wouldn’t stop crying. Soren, at 15 months, is actually a very good sleeper these days. It was a quacking in the night. Yes, that’s right—a quacking. We awoke around 3 a.m. to the sounds—very loud sounds—of “quack quack,” “quack quack,” “quack quack,” spaced out at regular intervals. As I lay there wondering if I was imagining things (or dreaming of a farm), Bjorn and Abby slowly groped their way into the living room where I was sleeping, saying “What is that noise? It’s driving us crazy!” It took a surprisingly long time to locate the source.

We searched the toy shelf, the book stack, the diaper bag. Bjorn was sure it was that offensive little duck in the diaper bag. But no, that duck was completely innocent. Finally we found it: a little play farm whose battery had apparently burned out or gone crazy, setting off one very persistent little duck who was quacking away. Poor thing—he spent the rest of the night out on the back porch in the cold. Ever tried to locate the battery in one of your kids’ toys in the middle of the night?

Though this is good for a laugh now, it didn’t seem all that funny at 3 a.m. Who needs a duck quacking at you when your baby is finally sleeping all through the night? Could be a moment Bjorn and Abby won’t remember long. (Do dads get some version of “momnesia” too?) But then again, maybe it’s worth remembering. If there’s anything we need to keep doing as moms, it’s to keep laughing!

Got any good stories to share?

Palm Sunday, Easter—and Beyond

Yesterday (Palm Sunday), the kids in our church came marching into the worship center carrying palm branches and shouting Hosannas: “Hosanna to the Son of David!” As I watched their adorable little faces—some delighted to be in the “big church,” some looking puzzled as to why they were there, and some maybe even a little scared—I was suddenly catapulted back across the years to a long-ago Palm Sunday.

As I drove home from church with all three kids in the back seat (Woody was on call that day), I asked them what their story had been in Sunday School. The two older boys had pretty reasonable accounts of Palm Sunday. But it was Erika’s story I remember best.

“Oh, Mommy,” she exclaimed. “It was a little sad because today we had the story of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a horse. And the horse fell down and broke his leg, and Jesus fell off. But it was OK—‘cause He didn’t get hurt.”

Pretty creative listening, wouldn’t you say? As I gazed at those fresh faces yesterday, I wondered what stories their parents would hear on the way home from church. And I wanted to tell those parents—and you—not to give up on the stories of Jesus. Tell them in parts, a little at a time, age-appropriately. And know that they will sink in, little by little.

Another year comes to mind as I write this: a Holy Week when one afternoon four-year-old Bjorn had a preschool friend –we’ll call him “Matt”—over to play. The two boys were playing out on the porch when suddenly I heard Bjorn’s voice booming across the kitchen: “No, no, Matt, you are the angel. You say, ‘He is not here. He is risen just as He said.’”

Nothing like acting out the Easter story to keep a couple of four-year-olds busy!

The next day I got a call from Matt’s mother. “Thanks so much for having Matt over to play yesterday,” she began. Then there was a short pause, ’til she continued: “There’s just one other thing I wanted to talk with you about.” My heart skipped a beat, wondering what might come next.

“I just wanted to thank you,” she said, “for the wonderful way that Bjorn taught Matt about the Easter story. You know, we haven’t really known how to tell him the real story. We just stuck with the Easter bunny and eggs and candy and all that. But Bjorn did a great job telling Matt the real story, so I wanted to thank you.”

Hmmm . . . maybe even four-year-olds can spread the Good News!

This morning I read Lars’ blog about Palm Sunday in Iraq. He was happy that he had been able to worship with a handful of other Marines and soldiers and sailors and their faithful chaplain in their little trailer-chapel, cement-block barricades surrounding them for protection, their weapons at their side.

He had also been able to fly yesterday afternoon over parts of Iraq that brought the Old Testament alive for him, he said. I thought how happy it would make my Old-Testament-scholar-Dad to hear that. (Don’t you think he knows this, up in heaven?)

And I thought back to an Easter season many years ago when Lars’ account of the Easter story in Sunday School was something like: “Today we had the story about the empty tomb and how the guys in the white things told the girls, ‘Jesus isn’t here. He rosed from the dead!’”


Indeed He did!! He is risen. He is risen indeed! I wish each one of you reading this a joyous Easter celebration. And I pray that each of you will have patience—and perseverance—as you share the great news of Jesus Alive with your kids. They will understand the story in time. And they will want—I pray—to worship this Risen Lord, even if some day they’re halfway ’round the world in a dusty little trailer in a far country with a handful of fellow believers. You’ll be glad you shared The Story!

Happy Easter!

Marathons, Finish Lines, and March “Mommy Madness”

We at Mom To Mom have recently crossed a Finish Line. On February 27, all the materials for the third year of Mom To Mom curriculum, Inside Out Parenting: A Mom’s Mission “went to press.” A day worth celebrating! A finish line it feels good to cross. But one that could not have been reached without teamwork on the part of a lot of people both at LifeWay and in Mom to Mom.

Actually my own personal finish line was November 16, 2007, the day we completed the last taping for Inside Out Parenting, as I recorded the 4-minute devotionals that go in the back of each Member Book. It felt like I had finished a marathon. In early November we had taped all 16 teaching sessions of IOP in five days in Wisconsin. In early October we had filmed, three very hot days in Nashville, all the Intros and Outros that go with these 16 sessions. In the months prior, I had been writing and rewriting what has become my new personal-favorite curriculum. And in the two previous years I had done Heart Talk (2005) and Growing Together (2006). Yep! Both November 16 (for me) and February 27 (for my LifeWay editor, producer, and team) felt like crossing finish lines for a marathon. Finish lines we could not have crossed without a lot of people cheering—and praying—us on.


I’ve never actually run a marathon, but my kids have. Last fall, Bjorn and Abby ran in the Marine Marathon in Washington, D.C.—and the next day Erika ran in the Dublin Marathon. All three crossed the finish line—and lived to tell about it! Unfortunately, Woody and I could not be both places, so we did not get to see Erika cross that line. But we did get to see Bjorn and Abby, and we had the fun of hanging out with Soren while his mommy and daddy ran the race.

I’ve got to tell you how amazed I was at both of them—but especially Abby, who was still a nursing mom with a baby only 10 months old. Incredible, if you ask me! And when she finished, she looked as if she could run another few miles. Bjorn, on the other hand, looked as if he might not live long. Exhausted, “spent,” a little sick, he told us he wasn’t sure if he would ever have made it if he had not had people running alongside urging him on. Not only did Abby run the whole race with him, his brother Lars, who had run the Marine Marathon the year before, came and ran the last five miles with Bjorn and Abby, just to encourage them across the finish line.


Here’s what Bjorn told us when he finally could speak: “I don’t think I would ever have finished the last 5 miles if it hadn’t been for Abby and Lars encouraging me on. They kept reminding me—when I wanted to quit—that it would soon be over and I would be so glad I hadn’t given up, that I would feel better in a short while, that I had worked too hard and trained too long to give up now.”

These last words are why I’m writing about this today. Because being a mom is definitely a marathon. Especially in March. March seems to be “Mommy Madness” Month. Nothing official. Just my observation. And my mom-memory!

I was reminded of this yesterday when a young mom in one of our local groups told me how she was barely surviving March. “It seems as if winter will never end. That it will never stop snowing. That we will never be able to get these kids outside to burn off some of this energy. That my kids will never grow up. Never be toilet trained. Never stop fighting.”

Sound familiar? Wherever you are in your mothering, I bet you can identify (even if it doesn’t snow where you live—at least not in March)! And that, my dear mom-friends, is why we need each other. We need to run alongside. We need to encourage each other to hang in there. We need to share our survival stories. A winter that really did end—finally. A baby who actually slept through a whole night. A toddler who was truly toilet trained before Kindergarten. A teenager who actually became fun to have around—at least most of the time.

I hope you do that in Mom to Mom. Or if you’re not in a Mom To Mom group, find some other moms who can run alongside you—and you with them—not only in March, but throughout the year. Better yet, start a Mom To Mom in your church or community if you don’t have one.

And BTW, I’d love to hear from some of you. I’d love to get more feedback from this blog. I know you are super-busy, being a mom. But sometime, drop me a line. Tell me a story of someone who ran alongside you. Or some therapy which you have discovered for March Mommy Madness. Or of a topic you’d like to hear about here. And meanwhile, watch for the release of Inside Out Parenting from LifeWay on May 1. You’ll already find it on the LifeWay website. I’m sooo excited about this curriculum. But more about that in a future blog. For now, hang in there, girls—March is almost over!