Once again, with the Mean Mom stuff. I mean "mean," "selfish," and "clueless."

"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways,' declares the LORD. 'As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.'"  Isaiah 55:8-9

Within a 24 hour period, three of my children were mad at me.  Disappointed in me.  Feeling let down by, overlooked by, uncared for and not considered by me.  

One child was upset because I wouldn't let him do something which would cause him great harm.  Harm which he is still too young to foresee.  So "wah wah wah," came the complaints, "I want to do this thing and I need to explore and my mom wont let me WAAAAAAAH."

A different child was upset because I would not let her do something which would cause possible harm to someone else.  And because she was asking me for something that she already had, and did not realize it.  And because, well, it's complicated.  

And the third child was upset because I wasn't handling a situation in the way she wished I would have, which is the way she is sure she would have handled it if she were me, and so her conclusion was "My mom is selfish, selfish, selfish."

In each instance, what my children did not see that I was both perfectly cable of understanding why they thought the way they thought about the situation, but my wisdom and experience told me that my way of handling it was wiser and safer.  

In each case, all they could see was the "no." They could not see that on the backside of the "no" was an even greater "yes" than their young minds could yet imagine.  

I don't expect my kids to understand why I do the things I do.  I don't expect them to be happy about all of my choices.  But I want them to understand that when they willingly and humbly come under my authority, even when they do not understand my reasoning, life goes more smoothly than when they resist.  Often, their arrogance of not understanding leads the child to disobey my word, and do what they wanted to do anyway, and therefore I am forced to take a disciplinary action that I never wanted to have to take in the first place.  If my child had only trusted me.

It's not that I desire to keep information hidden; it's often simply that even if I explain, they still would not understand.  When a child is humble enough to submit, and say, “I trust you, Mom. I know you would never willingly allow anguish into my life, and that you understand something I do not.  So I will not complain; I will trust you," I know I have that child's heart.  

And that is a heart to which I can begin to explain my own.

"As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth; It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it."

Isaiah 55:10-11

Greener Pastures

"He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul."

Psalm 23:2-3

A little social experiment I conduct semi regularly known as

 Taking my 19 month old to the park:

This adorable, tiny person is too small to understand the equipment, and too short to actually utilize any of it, even if he could understand it.  He doesn't feel like he's missing anything though.  He's happy to have a large area of land to wander, explore, discover, and conquer.  Just like every pioneer throughout the history of the world.  

     I put that baby's fresh, chubby feet down on the ground, and he starts running free.  He has no thought past his next step, and no long term goal in mind, except for whatever is in his line of sight and has captured his interest.  It will be a thing of interest until the next thing captures him.  And then he will wander over to that newer thing.  Unless he gets distracted by yet another thing of obvious fascination, in which case, his course will once again be altered.  It doesn't really matter, because all he knows is that he is free!  And all of this is his for the terrorizing.  And whatever he's thinking right now is what he is thinking right now; this current thought is absolute truth, and it is straightforward and not complicated.

     With every step he takes, I am right behind him, though he only chooses to acknowledge that he perceives me if he wants something which he cannot attain for himself.  A drink of water?  A lift and push on the baby swings?  Oh yes, now it is convenient for me to remember the tall Mommy person who brought me here. 

But even when his perception of me waxes and wanes according to his own particular set of feelings and desires,  My own eyes never wander from the form of my son, and in what direction he is headed.  I see where his eyes focus, and I let him run up to most things.  But I am always there behind him, weighing the possible dangers.  I usually just observe and let him run, but when I see that a precarious or hazardous situation is ahead, (for example, when he runs straight towards the swing set, on which another child's legs are vigorously swinging and poised to meet directly with his forehead with a surprisingly mighty force) I am quick to swoop him up and not put him down again until the danger has passed, or until I have moved him to a safe location.  Then, and only then, do I let him explore again.  He is often frustrated at his removal.  But once his attention has been purposely refocused, he is usually just as happy as ever.  And sometimes, he doesn't fight at all, he thinks it's fun to be picked up, or he's getting tired and relishing in the relief of having to move around on his own puny strength.  His legs, which are proportionally proportional to his body, are proportionally minuscule when measured against the surface of the world on which he thrashes.

But the times when he is mad, boy, is he ever mad.  He will flail and kick and yell and cry-actual tears will flow down his cheeks!  As if his whole body is saying "YOU ARE RUINING ALL THE FUN AND EVERYTHING GOOD IN MY LIFFFFFFFEEEEEE!"  Though when it comes to his life, I am actually the only one saving and protecting it.  

So that he can live to explore another day.

(In which I will once again protect him from sure dangers of which he was never, ever, ever aware.)

"The LORD keeps you from all harm and watches over your life;  The LORD keeps watch over you as you come and go, both now and forever."

Psalm 121:7-8

Sea Glass (The bottle of tears)

"You keep track of my sorrows.  You have collected my tears in your bottle.  You have recorded each one in your book."

Psalm 56:8

(I weep for my children.  Every day I weep and cry and pray.)
(click HERE to read what I wrote on September 11, 2014 which will explain this a little more.)

My tears pour out like liquid crystals, and I know that God is catching them.  He saves them in His bottle, the one which has my name on it.  I wonder why God collects tears?  God collects tears like I collect sea glass.  

     When my life broke apart and shattered 4 years ago, I used to spend a lot of time near the Ocean.  There is one beach in particular that was not as popular and touristy and others; it was a little farther south, it was a little more wild, and I could park just outside of the fence and I could walk for hours.  I would collect sea glass and pray.  

     Winter is actually the best time to collect sea glass.  

     I would find a piece of softened glass, broken and shattered off of what it had originally been, and I would put it in my pocket.  Sometimes I would find one that was still jagged on the edges, still  clear in color, and I would throw it back in the ocean. 

 It wasn't done becoming yet.

    At the end of the day, I would dump my pockets out and see what I had collected.  A display of white, green, blue, turquoise, and brownish gold glass pieces, all of which had at one point been something and then been reduced to only a tiny fraction of what they at one time had been.  But the ocean and it's tossing and turning had gotten a hold of these shards of glass and through the tumbling of the haphazard and often dangerous waves, each piece of broken glass had been softened and smoothed, and eventually deposited back on the shore where someone like me would recognize it at a jewel, and collect it to put into my own little jar with all of the other pieces of sea glass.  By the time I have picked it up and put it into my bottle, it was nothing of what it had once been.  If you were to find the original jar or ornament or whatever it had once been a part of, you would not be able to piece it back into the whole; it would no longer fit.  

     All of the pieces of sea glass together are like silent tears bearing witness to each it's own devastation; who knows how many devastations my one bottle of glass pieces can hold. 

     And so I wonder sometimes if the tears the Lord stores in jars are actually treasures to Jesus. And He actually knows the broken story behind each one.  He can pick up each individual crystallized tear and say, 

"Do you remember what happened here, my child?  Even if you have forgotten this part your story, I have not; I will remind you." 

     He knows.

But God, don't you have enough tears already, and isn't the jar full enough to be a thing of beauty in Heaven, when your light and glory shine through the jar? Is it somehow reflected down upon the remnants of this human life on Earth?  

     I miss my babies, oh HOW I miss my babies.
It's not just the missing of time with them and the mothering of them, it's all the things that I have missed along the way, and am currently missing.

I cry just saying that.
 I don't have the answers, but I cry daily, and God himself is holding my broken, and collecting my tears, and I look at my own little jar of glass once sharply dangerous and now softly smooth,  and I remember.

Admittedly, I cannot remember every time I cry.

But what I do remember is this:

     I remember that He died and He suffered,
his body broken like cheap glass to be stepped on and tossed away,

But He broke Himself completely 

Came down to Earth's shore

and became the very treasure 

that would heal my own.

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.  He who was seated on the throne said, 'I am making everything new!'  The He said, 'Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."

Revelation 21:4-5