Hope for the Lonely Mom...

I remember when our eldest was a baby – I was young, unprepared, and felt exasperated most of the time. To describe me as a ‘nervous new Mom’ would be huge understatement. I mean, I would leap out of bed like a shot when our son but whimpered. I would cry uncontrollably, head in hands, outside his bedroom door when he screamed in his crib, even after two hours of cuddling and rocking him to sleep. I had a pile of parenting books stacked high and my child was only 6 months old. I felt like I had no idea what I was doing as a parent and lacked the confidence to mingle at “Mommy and Me” groups where I was told I could ‘make other Mom friends’.

Then our second baby came, then the third. Boom, boom, boom. My quiver was more than full and I was impossibly overwhelmed with three babies under the age of three. I remember the days I would sit with my arms around my children, one nursing, one crying, and one screaming – and me, weeping. Weeping because I didn’t know how to handle the meltdowns, the never-ending needs, the tears falling, the arguments mounting. During the day, when I was at home, I felt so incredibly alone, and I. turned. to. no. one...

To read the rest of this post, head over to my guest writing over at The Better Mom!

A Drummer Boy Christmas...

This Christmas was different. Because I'm different. Something has shifted in me – a move I can't ignore and I can't argue... can't argue... yet, must also choose to embrace.

The business of change is a tough one.

This year, I'm still a mistake-maker. I'm still a messer-upper. Such a work, being molded, just like every one of us. These little people, specks on a massive globe. Putty in God's hands – if we're willing to be. And the difference this year, is I've finally been fully willing. I've finally surrendered.

“Surrendered what?”

My pride. My big headed ways that silently shouted at God, 'I know best!'. My anger. My unforgiveness. The hurt. The control. The pain. The power all this had over my thoughts and actions.  My choices.  Everything, I surrendered everything.

I've been thinking a lot this season about the Little Drummer Boy. I know, I know, the story is fictional... he's merely a character made up for a song, not a real part of the Christmas Story (or at least, as we play it out on stage). I get it. But he is an amazing character, this poor boy.

My daughter decided it was her favourite song and begged me to sing it constantly. We read the books, watched the new Veggie Tales movie... it seems this year the Little Drummer Boy was trying to tell me something. And about a week ago, I got it.

I am the Little Drummer Boy. 

The simplefied lyric is this:

"Come, they told me,

a newborn King to see!

Our finest gifts we bring-

to lay before the King.

So to honour Him...

when we come.

Little baby,  I am a poor boy too.

I have no gift to bring, that's fit for a King."

And in a moment, I realize it.  I am poor in every way imaginable that matters - alone, I am nothing.   I have no gifts to bring that are 'fit' for the King. The King of all Kings.   Nothing can ever be enough for Jesus, not by my own power, not by my own riches, or possessions or gifts - either physical or spiritual.   He deserves all honour and praise, but what can I possibly bring that is 'fit' for this mighty, Awesome King?

"Shall I play for you, on my drum!?

Mary noded, the ox and lamb kept time.

I played my drum for Him -

I played my best for Him,

me and my drum.

Then He smiled at me,

me and my drum."

Alone, I am empty.  A tomb.  With Christ, I have everything I've ever needed. It is His grace that makes me enough... washes over, like an ocean of mercy. And I'm drowning - daily. I am the Drummer Boy - poor, lacking everything.  Yet, He came, and died, and rose again to give me life, and not just life, but life to the fullest.  And, how He loves.  Through His grace, I can approach the thrown of mercy and He takes my hand. Me.  My hand.

And so, this Christmas I asked myself, 'what is my drum?' 

 The Little Drummer boy took what he had and offered it as praise to the King.  He had only what God had given him, this gift of music and an instrument to keep beat upon.  He used the rawhide and wood around his neck to drum out worship and in doing so, He honored Jesus.  He wholeheartedly offered up what he had.

So again, I asked myself, 'what is my drum?'.  What is God asking me to offer up?  Because God sees us differently than the world sees us.  And although the story is fictional - I think it's safe to say it is accurate based on a biblical view of Jesus.  I have no doubts that the simple yet soulful beating of a young boy's drum would have honoured God in the highest.  It is what lies in the heart that He sees.

Humbleness.  A willingness to submit.  A loving desire to obey and submit, even when it's hard.

My drum?  Control.  Anger.  Unforgiveness.  Hurt.  Pain.  Trying to do things my way instead of letting go and doing it God's way.  That's my drum.  And yes, it's very, very heavy.  And this surrender didn't start on Christmas Day, oh my gosh!  This has been a process over several years, amplified in the past few months by things beyond my control.  The realization came this blessed season as I was able to do things I've never done before.  Forgive freely and fully for pain that has burrowed deep and turn my soul to stone.  Extend grace in all it's richness - because it was first given to me by Him.  To release the handle on my own life and lay it at His blessed feet, once babe, always King of all Kings.

And it is not me, but Him in me who gives me strength and ability.  And I am blessed by obedience.
We all have a drum.  We all have deep, meaningful 'gifts' we can release into God's hands in obedience and love...  and His perfection shines brighter than all our scars and bruises.  What is in your heart this season?  What is God gently whispering in your ears?  Or maybe it's screaming so loud you just can't ignore it?  Let go...  don't let it take as long as it took me. 

His light outshines it all and I know, just like the song says... He smiles at us.

In His Grace,

Cassandra

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Linked in at A Holy Experience.

Christmas Is...

Blessed.  Beautiful. 

Bountiful.  But a Moment.

The Joy of Giving...

Painting fingers for our finger print snowmen Christmas balls...

Bow, bows, shiny and new...

Blessed Times...

All for and all from the Saviour.

Molly cuddles with a sick baby girl... first Christmas with our pup...

Simon's way of 'helping with the wrapping"... ha.

"... family gathered 'round... the Christmas tree..."

Warm moments, blessed by Grandmas...

One goofy husband, please?  Check.  I love this man.

"Mama, I want to be an artist when I grow up..." - Audrey

"The thing I like best, is games."  - Simon

"Ohhh... trains...."  - Alex

Cherished moments with Grandpa.

The moment I realized Great-Grandma is a pianist.



Ice Cream Cones...

"These people, I have not cherished enough, life is but a fleeting moment..."

It's the moment you open a box and your heart leaps out of your chest. How?  Where?  How could this be!?  I shriek (very uncharacteristic of me) and gulp back tears.  My parents.  Leave it to my amazing parents.  They somehow got this beautiful, one of a kind keepsake sandstone box, made in Kenya.  They somehow were able to completely surprise me... I wish some one could have taken a photo of my face in that moment...

We were at a Christmas craft show, I gazed at this piece for two days but couldn't spend the money on it... I simple pointed and mentioned how much I loved it. Later that day, I went to look at the small international ministry's table and it was gone. A lump formed in my stomach. I so wanted it. It represented to me a commitment - to Africa... to Uganda... to an answer to prayer... to a ministry. Lord, I will follow. Mom and Dad, you have no idea how special this is to me.

Grandma's Pie... is there anything better?  No.

He who has not Christmas in his heart

will never find it under a tree. 

~Roy L. Smith

Hoping your Christmas was full of warm memories...

Cassandra

The Good Place...

I think this is the first Christmas since I've been married that I've been in a really good place.  I mean, really good.  My eyes are wide open.  I'm trying hard to see everything, every little thing for the gift it is.  Right now, three children busily prepare a basement camp-out to eat lunch in...  Celtic Christmas quietly hums through our home.  We just finished baking big batches of Sugar Cookies together.  The lights are sparkling, the candles are lit... this moment, my heart sighs happily.  If ever there was an "I'm there" moment - it'd be now.  I'm here.  I'm at that place.  My ego pumps up a bit at the calm in our cheery little home.  'What a great job I've done' is the unclarified thought in the back of my hard head.

Then, right then, a sister screams and a crash - kids are fighting again.  Big brother hits little one... sister retaliates... a three-year-old has blood coming from his eye and older siblings flee the scene.  And I'm quick to anger.   "WHAT NOW?!?"  Nothing.  "Why can't you guys just be peaceful and get along!!?!"  No answer.  I'm yelling now- ranting, actually. "I get so frustrated with the arguing lately.  Guys, honestly!  Simon, what is going on?  What happened?  Audrey?  What's the deal?  What happened to Alex's eye??? GUYS?!"

I cradle a wailing child and feel my neck ache from tension.

Wait - where is my moment?

 I was there!  You know, that self-proclaimed "THERE"!  And I heave a different sigh now - one of exasperation rather than satisfaction as two older kids come and stand in a row staring at this Mother they've been given.  I'm so imperfect but I'm learning.  I shake my head and ask them to please keep their hands to themselves when they are angry, this is how accidents happen, afterall!  (chuckle...I do sound like a Mom...)

 Alex's eye is fine, he's laughing and running now.  We move forward.  And I close my eyes, begging God for His grace.  When quiet comes momentarily again, I'm realizing that even the chaos is for rejoicing in.  I can't 'get there'.  I never will. I'm me.  And I suck most of the time.  Let's be real... we're human and our parenting is anything but ideal at times.  But He can take me and in Him, I can find the Good Place He has made for me, right in the middle of this CRAZY place.  Where my imperfections become points of submission and crazy prayer... and at times, insane, falling to my knees, banging a fist prayer... but that's the Good Place.  When the days are imperfect and crazy, but still Holy... that's the Good Place.

It doesn't have to be a perfect place... I know, I know...

 It just has to be a moving-forward, learning, realizing I can't do it, and then leaning-on-God Place.

Be Blessed today friends...  writing to you from a quiet couch while three kids sleep off sickness... and yes, still grasping for those Good Places, today, and always.

In Grace and Love,

Cassandra

LINKED IN:  A Holy Experience

Connecting Again...

This weekend, for the first time in about 8 years, my husband and I got away.  We took two days and spent them in a small Mennonite town about an hour from our home.  We stayed at a beautiful bed and breakfast, lounged, chatted slowly, sipped wine (yep, even me... three sips in total), saw an enchanting musical, strolled down old trails and lanes fit for horse and carriage, bought loose leaf tea, raw honey, candy apples, and chocolate, ate lunch in a tiny bakery bustling with small town activity, and just enjoyed each other's company.  We did this - we connected. 

When our babies were little I was too nervous to leave for two hours, let alone an entire night.  But, now, with our youngest at three, I agreed to put my husband first for two days and indulge in some alone time with this amazing man God gave me.  We were married at 20 - and ironically, a sweet young friend picked us to interview today for a project she's doing about marriage.  I chuckle at the thought of being married nearly a decade and still feeling like kids.  When did we grow up?  When did two teens lost in puppy love end up here?  How did we overcome everything we were thrown (and oh, we've been thrown almost everything - from others - and from within - and the stuff we've whipped at eachother).  I chatted with a friend who told me Wes and I were 'the exception'.  That most people married young split up.  At least, that's what she had experienced.  I grimaced... and I thought alound, "But it's all a choice."  You choose to commit to Jesus - and then to your spouse.  The commitment is forever and it is non-returnable or refundable (too bad for my hubs, apparently, I'm expensive).  We are in it for life and this was our stance when we said "I do" when I was three months pregnant, unprepared, and clueless about marriage or motherhood. 

It's been a journey and we've grown more than I can explain in the past eight years.  I'm so thankful for the time we've struggled, because those times have helped me grow stronger and more grateful for the good times.  I wrote again before we left on Friday... in Our Journal.  We have this journal - I forced Wes to write in it with me (not forced but close enough) when we started dating.  It has been an amazing way we've connected through the years.

An entry by Wes from our first few months together...  (smile)

One from me...

It is a gift now, as we flip the pages and literally read through the very moments of our growth together.  I wrote in it again this week, for the first time in over a year, so I could read to my husband my feelings when we had quiet time alone.

So I could tell him I've been selfish.  I've focused on myself more than him.  I've ignored his feelings and his needs far too often and for far too long.  I've dwelled on how I'm connecting with our children and remembering the cherish the moments with them - but what about my husband?  Do I focus on the moments I have with him?  Life is no guarentee.  Life with this man is a gift - a totally grace-filled gift.  I didn't earn him.  He didn't earn me.  We were given to each other.  How do I cherish this present?  How do I nurture our love daily?  How do I speak life, rather than death?  How do I build up and hold tight?

I haven't.  I mean, not really.  Not madly... not the way I should be to truly honor my husband and God.  Not to truly bless myself and my children with the joy that comes from the closeness we can achieve when we love selflessly and accept selfless love poured on us.

Connecting to this man again - is bliss.  We're laughing.  We're joking with eachother and flirting.  We're kissing.  We're embracing. I'm happier.  I'm filled with love, joy, a good attitude.  We text silly things to each other and can't wait to see each other - it's amazing.  Our children are noticing.  They love it.   I've been renewed.  I've been revived.  Our love burns for each other... we want nothing more than to be a force to be reckoned with on this green earth.  That we would truly build one another up and stand for each other in the hard times and also in the good.  We will fight for this - because it is a battle to maintain a marriage and make it healthy.  Not just healthy, but thriving.

We have decided to rekindle the words on paper to each other.  To purposefully whisper love notes to each other through Our Journal.  And we both know it will bless us emensely.  All things worth doing take some effort.  Choosing to invest in each other means going the extra mile to connect, even in this hectic, crazy three-children-still-really-little phase of life.  Because there is always an excuse, it's how we respond to potential excuses that defines who we become as a couple...

I've written for longer than 5 minutes, and this is supposed to be 5 Minute Friday's post... so... I'll stop there.  (wink)


xo

Cassandra

Linked in:  Five Minute Friday - "Connected" (couldn't have picked a better topic for me this weekend!)