Ask a Titus 2 Mom

Today at our Mom to Mom we hosted the very first, "Ask a Titus 2 Mom." Over the past few weeks, the moms have been submitting questions that they wanted us leaders to answer. With the young moms gathered in chairs positioned in a semi circle and the leaders' chairs positioned on the stage, we told the young moms that the chairs onstage were for the experts who had all the answers. Therefore we would not be sitting in those chairs. Then we leaders took seats right in front at the moms' eye level.

We met them as a group of "older" moms who are further along on the journey and willing to share our strengths and weaknesses, things that have worked for us and things that haven't. The only thing we could say definitively and totally agreed on is that God has been and will continue to be faithful, and that He promises to give us wisdom when we ask Him. The questions asked and the answers shared were honest, loving, and from the heart.

Both moms and leaders agree it was a good day at Mom to Mom.

—Saundria, in Tennessee

Raw Grief, Holy Hilarity, and Stubborn Grace

“This book is the story of how we reclaim the things that are lost.  It’s also the story of how a home can become sacred, and how in the process it can sanctify us as well. I can tell you these things because I have been in dark places—which is the only way any of us learns to love the light. . . . Home is . . . where we learn grace . . . where we find or lose God, or perhaps where He finds us if we will only be still long enough to listen.”  (Tony Woodlief, Somewhere More Holy, p. 32)

So ends Tony Woodlief’s introduction to his amazing book, Somewhere More Holy.  It’s the first book I’ve read this year, and I already know it will be at the top of my list of 2012 favorites.  My daughter gave it to me for Christmas, and I began to love it the minute I skimmed through the first few pages.

For starters, it opens with a quote from Frederick Buechner. You know a book can’t be all bad, beginning with Buechner.  I also like the fact that each chapter begins with excerpts from other favorite authors of mine.  But it was really an author completely new to me—Tony Woodlief—who captured my attention with his first words and never really let me go until the end.  Actually, I was very sorry to come to the end.

The book is a story that weaves together many stories.  Stories from, as the cover tells us, “a bewildered father, stumbling husband, reluctant handy man, and prodigal son.”  It is the story of deep loss.  Probably the deepest loss any parent can experience—the loss of a child, a beautiful, exuberant little 3-year-old robbed of the rest of her earthly life by a brain tumor.  Excruciating loss and pain.

It is also the story of some almost-losses: of a marriage, of father-son relationships, and of the ultimate Father-Son relationship with God.  Woodlief recounts these  losses and almost-losses with raw authenticity.  Reader be cautioned: have tissues at the ready.

But it is also a story of hope and hilarity and, as Woodlief says in my beginning quote, reclaiming the things that are lost.  The author has a rare ability to juxtapose joy and sorrow, the eternal and the everyday, the marvelous and the mundane, in ways that constantly catch the reader by surprise.  Reading the book feels like riding a roller coaster.  You never know where the next twist or turn will take you.  And oh, those heart-stopping drops!

Woodlief is a really good writer.  He’s also very very funny.  Never have I read a book that took me from laughter to tears so unsuspectingly.  There are—believe it or not—tons of LOL ("laughing out loud" for any non-texters) moments when Woodlief  recounts parenting adventures with his four wild and wooly little boys.  More than once my husband looked up at me from his football game while I was reading the book, wondering why I was laughing so hard.

Amidst the laughter and the tears, it’s also a great parenting book.  The author takes us through various rooms in the Woodlief home where there have been lessons aplenty in marriage and parenting that he shares with humor, humility, and hope.  Side note: you’ve got to love some of his chapter titles—e.g. “Where the Wild Things Are” for the chapter on the boys’ rooms.

Ultimately, Somewhere More Holy is the story of grace—God’s stubborn, abounding, relentless, amazing grace.  Just what a mom needs more than anything else.  Just what this mom needed more than anything else.  Thank you, Tony Woodlief, for reminding us.  And please, write more books!

My Best Book of 2011

Yes, I do know that it is now 2012.  But it just occurred to me that I never shared with you the book which most impacted my life in 2011.

It’s a wonderful little devotional book: Jesus Calling: Enjoying Peace in His Presence, by Sarah Young.  Most of you probably already know about it.  It seems every time I recommend it to someone, they already have it.  It has been around a while (published in 2004).  But I had not heard of it until a friend gave me a copy last spring.  Since then, I have been reading it pretty much daily.  And day after day, I have the feeling she’s writing just for me.

Actually, it would be more accurate to say He wrote this just for me, as the book is based on scripture verses for each day that Sarah Young has loosely paraphrased in the first person—as if Jesus is talking directly to you.  I love that the verses from which she’s writing are included at the bottom of each day’s reading.  It’s a great way to find yourself dipping into words from God that you may not have encountered in a while.

The underlying theme is captured in the subtitle: Enjoying Peace in His Presence.  Morning after morning, we are encouraged to be aware of our Savior’s presence with us throughout the day, whatever may happen.  Here’s an example:

“I want you to learn a new habit.  Try saying, ‘I trust you, Jesus’ in response to whatever happens to you. . . . This simple practice will help you see me in every situation, acknowledging my sovereign control over the universe.  When you view things from this perspective . . . fear loses its grip on you. . . .”  (January 4 entry)

The concept of living in His presence all day long, trusting Him for that day and trusting Him for the future, is certainly not a new one.  It’s as old as scripture.  And as I read, I am often reminded of Brother Lawrence’s Practicing the Presence of God and John Ortberg’s God Is Closer Than You Think.  Both wonderful books.  But somehow—maybe because she is a woman?—Sarah Young seems to strike even closer to the bone.

Of course it’s really God Himself—and His words—that do this.  But thank you, Sarah Young, for reminding us!

A closing word for today (January 17) just in case you don’t yet have this book:

“Come to me with a thankful heart, so that you can enjoy My Presence.  This is the day that I have made.  I want you to rejoice today, refusing to worry about tomorrow. . . . Come to me with all your needs, knowing that my glorious riches are a more-than-adequate supply.  Stay in continual communication with me, so that you can live above your circumstances even while you are in the midst of them. . . .” (Psalm 118:24; Philippians 4:19, 6-7 NASB)

Good words for me today—and for you, too!

January Light

Is it January?  Really?  2012?  Really?  I feel as if I’m coming out of a giant cave—a cave where we’ve just been having a wonderful two-week party.  And I’m blinking into the light of a whole new year.  A whole new world.

Our house has just emptied out after 16 days of glorious chaos.  In overlapping visits, all our kids and grandkids were here to celebrate Christmas.  Such joy.  The house was full of Pack’n Plays and sleeping bags (there were 6 kids 6 and under), bouncers and blocks, Pampers and puzzles.  There were tunnels to crawl through in the basement, elaborate track designs on the train table, and hide and seek all over the house.  There was almost always someone hiding in the pantry.

But the last flight has taken off, the toys are put away, the tree and all the decorations are down, and the house is quiet.  Very, very quiet.  And empty.  Way too empty. It’s January.

But there’s still that “certain slant of light” I wrote about earlier.  Each morning as I have my quiet time (very, very quiet time), I see it slanting in across the mantle where the manger scene was.  (Full disclosure: I don’t actually see sunshine every morning in Wisconsin.  Today it is gray and snowy, and the sun didn’t quite make it through.  But still, I know it’s there.)

A while back I wrote about being mesmerized by the light of Christmas.  Well, it turns out it’s still here to light our way into the new year.  It may not appear quite as glamorous after Christmas.  But it seems I need it all the more in January.

And that’s the great news.  The Light that came with Christmas shines right on into January—and way beyond.  The Babe born in the manger didn’t stay there, waiting to be safely tucked away with the nativity set until next Christmas.  That was only the beginning for the story.  Thanks to our redemptive God, the Light that came into the world at Christmas became our Light for all the days and weeks and months of the year.

Maybe especially for January, with all of its newness and uncertainty and unknowns.  The little chalkboard in our kitchen still bears its Advent message: He is coming! I need to update it.  He has come, “that true Light that gives Light to everyone.” (John 1:9)  And now He calls us to walk in that light : “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.  Live as children of light.” (Ephesians 5:8)

Even in January.

A “Mary Christmas” to You!

I felt it coming on early this morning: I was shifting into “Martha mode.”   So far I’ve been very reflective about Advent this year, wanting to be like two Marys in the Bible—the one who sat at Jesus’ feet and listened, and the one who was His mother, with much to treasure and ponder in her heart.

But this morning was different.  I awoke with shopping lists and baby equipment on the mind, and visions of menu planning and baking, Pack’n Plays and car seats, dancing in my head.  I felt like Martha, “distracted by all the preparations that had to be made” (Luke 10:40).

We are extra-excited about Christmas this year.  In just one week they begin to arrive for overlapping visits: all 6 of our adult kids (each of our 3 and spouses) and all 6 of our grandkids.  We are very geographically scattered, from Wisconsin to Florida to New Hampshire and on to Ireland, so it’s a rare event that we will all be together for four whole days—for the first time in a year and a half.

We can’t wait!  But there’s a lot to do. And this morning, the length of my lists hit me full force.  Then I remembered wise words from the poet Mary Oliver (written in a different context) that a friend had sent me recently as a reminder of how to celebrate Advent: “Walk slowly.  Bow often.”  Is there any better time than Advent to be reminded of this?

“Walk slowly.  Bow often.”  I forwarded these words to our kids, with a brief note acknowledging how impossible that must seem amidst their busy lives with babies and toddlers and preschoolers.

My daughter-in-law Abby wrote back with a very interesting perspective (which I share with her permission):

“We were convinced that we couldn’t walk slower than we did with Soren (now 5 and a very fast runner!)…but Nils (22 months) has him beat!  The sun rises and falls before Nils can get himself from the car to the back door.  He greets every puddle, squirrel, and leaf with a glorious pause and ‘hi!’ It’s a long obedience…Now I’ll just have to think about bowing often as I stand holding the door open wishing I had a cattle prod.  Thanks, Mom!”

“Walk slowly.  Bow often.”  If you can do it while waiting for a wonder-filled but dawdling toddler, maybe you can do it while waiting in line at Walmart, or while on hold trying to place an order.  Or maybe even in a few moments of quiet before tackling the day’s List.

So I sat quietly for a few moments this morning pondering our nativity set and thinking of Mary—and me, and you.  “How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given…”   I prayed that I would not miss the wonder and mystery of it all even amidst the flurry of joyful family reunions.  I pray the same prayer for you—whether you walk the floor with a crying baby, or wait on slow-moving toddlers, or get ready for a houseful, or even prepare for a quieter Christmas this year.   May you find—or make—in this season a few “Mary moments” to welcome Him into your heart and life above all others.

“O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!”  Merry Christmas (and a “Mary” Christmas) to you all!

A Certain Slant of Light

I am mesmerized by the lights of Christmas.  I guess I always have been.

My mom loved to tell how I got her up in the middle of the night the Christmas I was two, begging to have the Christmas tree turned on.  I always loved the tiny white lights that outline the shops in the center of the charming New England town which was home to our family.  And when I think of Christmas Eve celebrations over the years, I see the faces around our table in the glow of the individual Swedish candle in front of each place.

Lately God seems to be pursuing me with Light, morning and evening.  In beauty, in joyful anticipation, in reflection, in uncertainty, and in grieving (yes, I still miss my mom every day, though December 19 will be the 4-year anniversary of her homegoing).

Early this week, Woody put up the single candles that we light in each window for Advent.  Even as he did the harder work of getting cords untwisted and finding outlets and extension cords, I heard Jesus’ voice: “I am the Light of the world . . . You are the light of the world.”  This is a yearly ritual.

But then there was the light incident of two mornings ago.  It’s very dark in Wisconsin when I get up.  I was sitting in my favorite place, having my morning “Come to Jesus” conversation about worry.  I need the reminder to start every day: “Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything.” (Philippians 4:6 NLT)  I looked toward the darkened family room and wished I had thought to turn on the light above our nativity set.  Because our conversation wasn’t finished (Jesus’ and mine), I didn’t get up and turn on the light.  But then suddenly, there it was—a tiny flicker of a light illuminating the nativity figures.  It seemed that for some reason a small electric candle on the mantle had turned itself on.

I got up and turned it off by loosening the bulb, only because these candles are particularly unpredictable and I didn’t want to burn out the battery.  Back to my seat.  The candle was back on.  Oh, that crazy candle!  I unscrewed it a little more.  I sat down again.  And the light was back on!  I’m not sure how many times this happened.  But I did feel a little like Samuel: how many piercings of the night does it take for God to get my attention?  “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.”  (John 1:5 NLT)

The following morning, the bulb was still out of the candle.  But as I was sitting in my familiar place, the sun came up.  Cause for celebration in itself, as we don’t see the sun all that much in Wisconsin these days.  But there it was—a very distinct beam of sunshine slanting across our mantle to the nativity set.  Mostly it was still dark—except for the light slanting its way toward Bethlehem.  “A certain slant of light,” as Emily Dickinson put it (albeit in very different context).  A reminder, for me, of the True Light that came with Christmas.

Then there was my drive home yesterday in the darkness, much later than I’d expected to be.  One of those “routine medical tests” had turned out to be not so routine, and I was facing further testing and uncertainty.  Also, a recalibration of “Linda’s agenda” for getting ready to have everyone home for Christmas this year.   It was cold and dark as I drove home.   I wished we had our window candles on a timer, so I wouldn’t go home to a dark house.

But there they were, five candles radiant in the upstairs bay window.  I’m really not sure why they were on—most likely because I had unwittingly flipped a switch in that room and hadn’t noticed the bulbs lit in the daylight.  But it really felt like God getting my attention with” the Light of His presence”—again.   What did the ancient prophet say? “When I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a Light for me.”  (Micah 7:8 NKJV)

May God surprise you with His Light this Advent.

Hope - and Humor - from the Trenches

A few months back, a publisher kindly sent me a little tiny book which could be a great big gift to moms.  I’ve been meaning to write about it for a while.  But now it occurs to me that it might just be a good book to put on a Christmas list: for you, or for a mom-in-the-trenches friend—or both!

Loving the Little Years: Motherhood in the Trenches, by Rachel Jankovic, first got my attention by being the right size for busy moms.  It’s a slim paperback with barely over 100 pages.  Good start!

As I began to leaf through the pages, I quickly took a liking to the grace, humility, and humor with which it is written.  An example: “At the time of writing this, I have three children in diapers, and I can recognize the sound of hundreds of toothpicks being dumped out in the hall. . . . I didn’t write this book because mothering little ones is easy for me.  I wrote it because it isn’t.  I know that this is a hard job, because I am right in the middle of it. I know you need encouragement very day, because I do, too” (p. 12).

Fact check: the author is, indeed, in the thick of it: she had, at the time of writing, five kids five-years-old and under (yes, including one set of twins).  Now I know this raises an obvious second question in your mind: How on earth did she manage to write a book?  My question, too!  I’m guessing that part of the answer lies in having a mother nearby.  (Her mother, Nancy Wilson, writes the foreword and alludes to her babysitting availability.)  Beyond that, I imagine it happened just as described in the foreword—“squeezing her writing into the nooks and tight crannies of her days.”

At any rate, we can be glad she wrote it.  In a way, the book reminds me of Mom to Mom.  It’s a great big dose of encouragement for moms, combined with some very practical parenting tips and a wonderful emphasis on the basic things that matter most.  A little bit like a morning (or evening) at Mom to Mom. :)

As you read, you may find that there are parenting challenges you personally approach differently.  Isn’t that always the case? But at the core, this author gets it right.  A few examples:

• “There is only one thing in my entire life that must be organized . . . my attitude” (p. 11)
• “It is no abstract thing: The state of your heart is the state of your home” (p. 14)
• “Now try to think of discipline as . . . a sweet means of grace to your children” (p. 19)
• “Christian childrearing is a pastoral pursuit, not an organizational challenge . . . Be a pastor to your children” (p. 50)

These loftier principles are blended together with a variety of helpful tips  (e.g., helping little girls manage their emotions), a refreshingly realistic perspective on real life with a houseful of little kids, and huge and wonderful doses of humor (you’ll love the story of the frantic husband pacing the floor with a phantom baby).

Thank you, Rachel Jankovic, for writing.  And happy reading to any of you who find your way to this book.  I hope it is the encouragement to you the author meant it to be.

Outrageous Praise

“Out of the mouths of babes…you have perfected praise.” (Matthew 21:16 NKJV)

Don’t you love seeing exuberant outbursts of praise and thanks from children?  Having just returned from a visit with two of our grandchildren, I have fresh memories of Hannah’s chubby little hands raised in praise as she sang the doxology with gusto before a meal.  At two and a half years, Hannah embraces life with uncomplicated enthusiasm.  Why not praise God the same way?

Older brother Bengt is often a bit more thoughtful.  He’s beginning to be more aware of Who we praise, and what kind of God He is.  We got a glimpse into his 6-year-old mind  when we heard this observation, seemingly out of the blue, from the car seat in the back of the van: “I don’t know if you know this, Dad.  But God is all the light we ever really need.”

Thanks and praise seem to come easier in childhood, when life is less complicated.  But what about the kind of praise called for this Thanksgiving from all of us grown-ups?  Yes, all of us.  Not just those for whom life seems to be flowing along smoothly (Let me know who you are out there!)  Or those rejoicing in recent breakthrough answers to prayer.  Also those still waiting for answers, struggling with the answers you seem to be getting, or wondering where God is in all this.  How many months can a family go without jobs?  How much life is left after a lung cancer diagnosis?  Will the husband’s depression ever lift, the wayward child ever come home, the special needs child ever get what he needs?  How long will the business hold out in this economy?  I’m sure you can quickly fill in your own blanks.  It’s a tough world we live in.

That’s where outrageous praise comes in.  It’s the real deal, I’m convinced.  Not just the “things are going just great in my world for now, God.  Thank you—and please may it last” kind of praise.  But the no-matter-what kind of praise.

It’s the praise I wake up in the night thinking about lately.  It’s the praise that comes only from a clear understanding of Whom we praise and why.  It’s the praise born of the daily conviction of the Presence of God in every circumstance of our lives.  Every day.  Every hour.  Every minute.  It’s the praise of the Psalmist in Psalm 34.

I’ve shared from a favorite paraphrase of this Psalm before.  It’s the one Woody’s parents read together almost daily in Dad Anderson’s last week of life before he died at age 52.  It’s the one that hangs on the wall in our family room and in the walls of my heart.  It’s the best example of outrageous praise I know:

I feel at times as if I can never cease praising God.  Come and rejoice with me over His goodness.

I reached to Him out of my inner conflicts, and He was there to give me strength and courage.  I wept in utter frustration over my troubles, and He was near to help and support me.  What He has done for me he can do for you.  Turn to Him; He will not turn away from you.  His loving presence encompasses those who yield to Him.  He is with them even in the midst of their troubles and conflicts. He meets their emptiness with His abundance and shores up their weakness with His divine power.

Listen to me.  I know whereof I speak.  I have learned from experience that this is the way to happiness.  God is ever alert to the cries of His children.  He feels and bears with them their pain and problems.  He is very near to those who suffer and reaches down to help those who are battered down with despair.

Even the children of God must experience affliction.

But they have a loving God to keep them and watch over them.

The godless suffer in loneliness and without hope.

The servant of God finds meaning and purpose even in the midst of his suffering and conflict.

(from Psalms Now! by Leslie F. Brandt)

I hope you’ll join me in outrageous praise—Happy Thanksgiving 2011!

Morning Prayers for Mamas

My morning prayers (and all-day prayers, really) are filled with mamas today.  That’s not unusual.  Many, many mamas are on my prayer list regularly—both close personal friends and Mom to Mom groups around the country.

But today my heart is especially heavy with recent conversations.  My memory is filled with God-moments from last weekend at the wonderful Hearts at Home Northeast Convention in Rochester, Minnesota.   Later this week I spent a few precious hours around a warm, cozy table on a gloomy November afternoon with mom-friends sharing deeply from their hearts.  And then there have been texts and phone calls and emails from near and far.

The stories swirl around my mind and fill my heart.  Young mamas struggle with multiple miscarriages, contested adoptions, tiny babies fighting mightily in NICU’s, and post-partum depression.   A 7-year-old is pushing a mama to the edge, and a 17-year-old makes one mother of 6 say to me, “If I’d had a 17-year-old first, I’d have had only one child!”

Mamas of young adult children are on their knees everywhere.  A daughter makes one terrible choice after another to pursue what looks like the life of her dreams but what may very well turn out to be a nightmare.   Another runs from God down “the labyrinthine paths of her own mind” (to borrow from Francis Thompson’s poem “The Hound of Heaven”).  How long will it take them to come to their senses?   Another fights the constant specter of past drug addiction, while a son battles alcoholism. Are they really “clean” and sober now?  Sons and daughters move home as marriages fall apart. Why is this happening to so many marriages?

I think of these stories and pray for these mamas and their children, no matter what age they are.  As I pray, God brings to mind words of encouragement.  Words from somewhat random sources.  Words which strengthen me as I pray and which I hope will encourage my friends—and every one of you who may need “strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow” (as the great old hymn puts it):

• From an old prayer quoted in the September 12 reading from Streams in the Desert:  “O Lord, support us!  Yes, support us on every leaning side.”
• From Psalm 94:18-19: “When I said, ‘My foot is slipping,’ your love, O Lord, supported me.  When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.”
• From a Facebook posting my daughter tells me comes from Ann Voskamp’s wonderful blog: “One foot in front of the other and one murmured thanks after another and underneath the Everlasting Arms will hold.”

I pray for every one of my mama-friends with leaning sides and slipping feet—including me!  And I wonder how it is that Sarah Young, in her amazing devotional Jesus Calling, always seems to make God’s Words speak directly into my life.  Just in case these words from her November 9 entry might describe you as they did me:

“. . . some fears surface over and over again, especially fear of the future.  You tend to project yourself into the next day, week, month, year, decade; and you visualize yourself coping badly in those times.  What you are seeing is a false image, because it doesn’t include Me.  These gloomy times that you imagine will not come to pass, since my Presence will be with you at all times.   When a future-oriented worry assails you, capture it and disarm it by suffusing the Light of My Presence into that mental image.  Say to yourself, “Jesus will be with me there and then.  With His help, I can cope!”  Then come home to the present moment, where you can enjoy peace in My Presence.”  ( Jesus Calling, p. 328)

My prayer for all of us, sisters of the leaning sides and slipping feet.

Happier Mothers = Better Mothers

Author/Pediatrician Dr. Meg Meeker has written another great book.    Some of you may remember that I previously recommended her two earlier books:  Boys Should Be Boys and Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters.

This time she’s written about mothers.  The title captivated me immediately: The Ten Habits of Happy Mothers: Reclaiming Our Passion, Purpose, and Sanity.  Sounded like a book for Mom to Mom moms to me!

And indeed it is.  Writing from both her own experience as a mom and from 25 years of conversations with moms as a pediatrician, Dr. Meeker recognizes both the deep passion we moms have to be good mothers and the extraordinary pressures we put on ourselves.  She begins by putting her finger right on the problem: The “. . . full-blown obsession we have with getting mothering right . . . is taking many of us down.” (p. xii of the introduction)

Then, gently, but passionately and convincingly, she sets forth her prescription for becoming healthier mothers.  At the risk of being a “spoiler,” I want to share her top ten points, hoping they’ll inspire some of you to read the book and help those of you who can’t imagine having time to read a book just now.

Meg Meeker’s Ten Habits of Happy Mothers:

1. Understanding your value as a mother
2. Maintaining key friendships
3. Valuing and practicing faith
4. Saying no to competition
5. Creating a healthier relationship with money
6. Making time for solitude
7. Giving and getting love in healthy ways
8. Finding ways to live simply
9. Letting go of fear
10. Making the decision to have hope

As I read, I found myself thinking how deeply Meeker’s wisdom correlates with what we try to do at Mom to Mom—especially her first four and last four habits.  I also kept thinking of our oft-quoted Mom to Mom mantra: “If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”  Dr. Meeker clarifies at the outset: “This is not a book about being a better mother because are plenty of books on that.   This is a book for you, and only you, to help you become a happier mother.”  (p. xii of the introduction)  True.  But I can’t help but add: Being a happier mother will make you a better mother, too!

A good read, and a good question:  What makes you a happier mother?