Babies, Brain Freeze, and January Thaws

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.