Getting My Body Back

A very vivid memory from my childhood often comes back to me . . .  my Mom in the kitchen, busy with something, and me wrapping my little girl arms around her soft waist--the love that I felt for my Mom and the certain knowing that she was there for me, that she loved me and constantly gave all of herself to raise me and my sisters. 

Wrapping my arms around that waist that had given--had been stretched and used and worn from giving life to us, to me--her beautiful motherly body that was not tight and firm and toned. 

Something that has had a great effect upon me in my own life has been the way in which my Mom gave everything towards raising her children and walking transparently before the Lord. 

Her devotion to Him came first--I remember her always with her Bible in the morning having her quiet time and seeking the Lord throughout her day, even though it was busy with children. 

And something that had a profound effect upon me was that my Mom's focus was not on her outward appearance, but on her inward relationship to the Lord. This didn't mean that she didn't dress attractively or wear makeup or exercise--my Mom maintained a neat and feminine appearance and exercised when she could. But her focus day in and day out was in giving herself in raising my sisters and I to know and to love the Lord. The other things were secondary and she would quickly forfeit them if it was a choice between her children or her appearance, even to the point of not buying herself new clothing for lengths of time so that she could afford to send us to a Christian school. 

My Mom's focus was on the spiritual and this played into every area of her life. I watched that kind of example growing up. 

I have a personality that craves order and discipline. It's the way that the Lord made me and He has used that for good in my life. But at times, if I am not watchful, it can become a distraction from that deeper more intimate walk with the Lord that my heart truly craves. 

For this reason, I have been very careful in the past with what I ate and making sure that I exercised regularly. I love to walk and so this was an almost daily part of my life, especially before I had children. I consumed broccoli religiously and ate in an otherwise extremely healthy way. 

And then I had children . . . and as anyone who has had children knows, the body goes through extreme changes, both physically and emotionally. 

Both of my births were difficult. I experienced extreme tearing during my first birth and faced a long healing process. My second birth which I chose to do naturally without pain medication took a toll on my body (looking back on that experience I would have chosen to do things differently now, but that is another blog post!) My son was born face down--in posterior position (in the Lord's mercy I delivered him without having a C-section) but my body was physically "broken." Again, I faced a long healing process and couldn't get my body back to normal.

And so, with a "broken" body, I faced caring for two little ones, 18 months apart. 

I struggled. And I just couldn't seem to get my body back into that same pattern of order and discipline that I had maintained before having babies. 

I was nursing, I was weak to the point where I struggled to pick myself up from the floor when I was sitting down with my children. 

And I felt frustrated at times--honestly--frustrated that I just couldn't get my body back--just couldn't fit into my jeans that I wore before I had children. Frustrated that I just couldn't seem to get it under control.

I, me, my body. 

Until the Lord spoke to me, quietly at first, and then with increasing strength--

My work was to focus on the two tiny souls He had given me--to raise to nurture, to love, to enjoy--to train up in His ways.

My work, as He spoke to me strongly one night, was to feed His sheep, and for me, this is to teach my two precious little ones, Deborah and Elisha, to know and to love Him. 

My focus in some ways needed to shift. 

And what I am not saying is that one shouldn't live a disciplined life, exercise, eat healthily, and take care of one's physical body. Our Pastor illustrated this beautifully in a recent sermon--he said that when we place the Lord first, when He is all in all to us, everything else falls into its proper order and place--in other words, through seeking His kingdom first, everything else will be added . . . when we place Him first, everything else falls into place. 

This way of living brings freedom . . . 

The Lord, and it is difficult to describe this completely, but a transformation took place in my heart at one point, replaced my natural motherly care and general love for my children (which I believe that every mother has) with a deep, strong, spiritual love for them. I cannot describe this, but He did. And it has been like a beautiful flower growing in my heart--I love them spiritually and I want them to know Him. 

This has cost me my body. 

The natural part of mothering in childbirth has cost me my body--my body will never look the same again--and it doesn't have to--who are we to hold on to this physical body in a way that rebels against any change to it? 

Are stretch marks and scars really the enemy? Do we need to stress and fuss and fume and desperately grasp at trying everything possible--every trick, gimmick, and exercise technique to get our body back? Again, I am not at all saying that it is wrong to exercise after we have children (I still enjoy walking, only now I do it with my children!)--what I am trying to say is that when getting our body back becomes the focus, we have lost something of spiritual significance--the willingness to give even if it means that we can't maintain the "perfect" body. The focus is "off" when we cling to the notion that we need to be a certain weight or a certain size in order to be content instead of resting in the Lord and concentrating on His present will for our lives. Perhaps the real enemy is holding onto something that we need to be willing to let go of. 

Our body is given in order to give it back--because it always comes down to surrender--whether or not we are willing to give something lesser for the greater--just as Jesus did. 

For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that you through His poverty might become rich. II Corinthians 8:9 NKJV

To give back spiritually --we give our body spiritually when we sacrifice what we could have had in order to give to another--a "perfect" body for the stretches and scars of motherhood, our time, our passions, our lives--for the life of another--for the lives of little ones, for the Lord's sake. 

There is a character  in one of my sister's novels, The House of Mercy who would have been physically handsome except for the fact that his face bears a garish scar. He is one of my favorite characters, even more than the hero in that novel. A deeply sensitive man, he marries a woman who became pregnant out of wedlock and takes her child as his own. He is a beautiful example of Christ-like love and his face and very life bear deep sorrows, wounds and scars. 

Sometimes scars, imperfections, can be things of great beauty--can actually draw rather than repel. 

Jesus was scarred--He bore the scars of the nail prints in His hands--nail prints of love and evidence of a body broken. Broken for us. His body was used for our benefit. We follow His example when we give our bodies for the sake of our children, or even for the sake of spiritual children, such as missionaries whose bodies have been broken down by years of fasting and toil and ministry. It is worth it. 

I remember hugging my Mom's waist, her selfless, Christ-like giving and I remember that ancient truth that burns in the heart when we embrace it--we receive when we give. We possess when we let go. He who seeks to save his life will lose it but he who loses his life for My sake will truly possess it. 

And this is how I have gotten my body back. 



You might find me on these link-ups:


Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, Inspire Me Monday, Literacy Musing Mondays, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Mom's Morning Coffee, Raising Homemakers, Classical Homemaking, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries,  Testimony Tuesday, Tell His Story, Women With Intention Wednesdays, Messy Marriage,  Graced Simplicity, Imparting Grace, Thought Provoking Thursday, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, The Weekend Brew, Counting My Blessings, The HomeAcre Hop, Mommy Moments Link Up, Grace and Truth Linkup, Faith Filled Friday, Tell It To Me Tuesdays, SHINE Blog Hop, TGI Saturdays Blog Hop, RaRaLinkup, Word of God Speak, Booknificent Thursday, Living Proverbs 31, Sharing His Beauty Blog Linkup, Coffee For Your Heart Weekly LinkUp, You're the Star Blog Hop, Homesteader Hop, Fresh Market Friday, Heart Encouragement Thursday , Sitting Among Friends Blog Party

When Children Slow You Down

I've written about a gift that the Lord has given me over the past year--the gift of quietness. 

Another gift has come to me--a lesson--the lesson of slowing down. 

Before I had my babies, I loved to exercise--I walked and walked briskly through the New England neighborhood by the sea where I lived. I was consistent as a good clock--walking almost every day for years for a specified amount of time most days of the week even through snow and rain. When I didn't walk outside, I used my trusty treadmill--a hand-me-down from my great uncle. It was gloriously loud, but it served its purpose and kept me walking.  

Then, when my babies came, everything began to slow down for me. Even my walking. Oh, I still walked, but I adapted a more gentle pace to accommodate my children. 

One time, a neighbor (who also walked for exercise) passed by me with my carriage and commented quickly, "You used to walk so fast!" 

It was true. 

But the Lord was beginning to teach me a lesson, slowly at first, then with more intensity as the years have been passing. 

The lesson of slowing down. 

I have a personality that wants to get things done, cross things off a list; I love order and rhythm. 

The Lord is teaching my heart a new rhythm--the way that He wants me to walk with my children. 

And I have sensed Him admonishing me over and over again--slow down. 

Life is not a list of things that need to get done, (even though it is important to be organized and orderly)-- 

Life is a moment by moment opportunity to live the Gospel --

For me, the primary way that I do that right now is in raising my children--

Not to be bright or outgoing or witty or popular, but to know Jesus deeply, to be willing to suffer persecution for His sake, to count the cost in following Him whatever that will mean for them. 

And every moment is an opportunity--no matter how tired or weary or overwhelmed I may be-

Every moment. 

Their souls are precious.

And I need to take time to look at their tiny faces and to love their teachable hearts and do all that I can in the strength that God provides to love them and to nurture them and to lead them to the Lamb of Truth.

Children are not an "add-on," or a number, or a burden--

They are an unfathomable blessing--each one an opportunity--a soul to brighten the face of Heaven and to bring glory to God.

Children are a Treasure from the Lord, a precious gift.

Slow down, look into their faces, talk to them, relate everything to the Savior, plant truth and grace in their hearts . . . and it will grow. 

That is more important than the things that we think are so important. 

When we cook, when we clean, when we sing, when we read, when we play, when we pray--slow down--the joy that comes is indescribable--

And much more gratifying than merely crossing tasks off a list.

Does this mean that I may never walk "fast" again? Of course not--

And lists and order and organization are all blessings from His hand. 

The lesson for me was in slowing down to meet the needs of my little ones, to meet their needs first before my own, and sometimes that means laying aside my "list" or my plan or what I think needs to be accomplished. 

To love them. To spend time with them. To touch their tiny faces and to take their tiny hands--

To walk slowly with them--to let the others things go, for a moment, for a season--

He let the little children come . . . He was not too busy, too rushed--He who had the pressing needs of so many continually before Him. 

He let them come; may we, also--

For of such is the kingdom of Heaven.    

You might find me on these link-ups:


Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, Inspire Me Monday, Literacy Musing Mondays, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, Raising Homemakers, Classical Homemaking, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries,  Testimony Tuesday, Tell His Story, Women With Intention Wednesdays, Messy Marriage,  Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Imparting Grace, Thought Provoking Thursday, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, The Weekend Brew, Counting My Blessings, The HomeAcre Hop, Mommy Moments Link Up, Grace and Truth Linkup, Faith Filled Friday, Tell It To Me Tuesdays, SHINE Blog Hop, A Little R&R Wednesdays. TGI Saturdays Blog Hop, RaRaLinkup, Word of God Speak, Booknificent Thursday, Living Proverbs 31, Sharing His Beauty Blog Linkup, Coffee For Your Heart Weekly LinkUp, You're the Star Blog Hop, Homesteader Hop, Fresh Market Friday

Perseverance, Plodding, and the Father's Pleasure

"For we must all appear before the judgement seat of Christ, that each one may receive the things done in the body, according to what he has done. whether good or bad."

II Corinthians 5:10

 

I think of my teabag, soaking, drenched in the steaming water and I think, "That's how my life, my moments should be--steeped like a teabag in prayer, saturated with the heaviness of petitions uttered, silent groanings, deep cries to the Almighty from the depth of gratitude and sometimes desperation. 

Because sometimes we are desperate. 

And sometimes we are grateful and our thankfulness pours out like a gurgling, bubbling joyful stream, and we just can't contain it. 

I remember moments like these--slow brimming tearful moments, silent, heavy praise to my Father of mercy--

The day that our five-year engagement suddenly snapped closed in what could only be a miraculous triumph of the Father's kindness and faithfulness. 

The morning in the garden when I realized and felt the Father's love for me.

The day that my baby came into the world and lay in my aching arms. 

Those days . . . 

And there are those times when all of a sudden, after long hours, days, months, years of plodding and praying and fearing and wondering and listening, when the Lord breaks through and we see His hand working where we hadn't seen it before. 

Some area of obedience, where we have listened to the Spirit's voice, maybe in praying for an unsaved loved one or friend, maybe in an area that we are learning faithfulness and self-control, maybe a breakthrough in our prayer life--our Baal Perizim where we suddenly "see" the hand of the Lord in a fresh way blessing the obedience that we offered through His Spirit. 

A moment like this came quietly for me a little while ago. Not like a gust of power or wind, but quietly and I saw the Lord's hand.  One of my favorite quotes is of the Baptist missionary William Carey. When asked about the "secret" to his "success" with missions, he answered that he "could plod." He could continue year after year after year in a given pursuit without "giving up," (even when there were no visible results) when he knew that the work was of God. 

After my baby was born and when I began to bring her to church, I felt led to keep her with me through the worship service--to teach her slowly from when she was very little to be able to eventually sit quietly in the worship service with the intent of worshiping together as a family through the entire service. (I bring this up as a situation in which the Lord taught me to "plod" in an area that I felt He desired for me to obey Him in--not as a form for every family/person to follow. Although I believe that worshiping as a family is important, the Lord can lead different families in different ways in this area, and it is between them and the Lord to determine the individual course that He would have their family take. The important thing is that a family is walking with and listening to the Lord and that their desire is toward true worship. Obviously, this may take a different form for a larger family or for a family with a toddler and an infant, for a single mother, and so on.) 

At any rate, I believed that the Lord had laid this particular course of obedience upon my heart in my individual circumstances. Week after week I sat in the back of the church and kept my baby and now toddler with me during the time when the worship service was held. At first, I had to go in and out of the sanctuary many times when she was fussy, noisy, etc. But as time wore on, she began to sit for longer periods of time through the beginning of the service, before the sermon was given. When the Pastor began speaking (usually a good 45-minute sermon or so) I took my daughter into the foyer, right outside the sanctuary and sat there on a folding chair with her as if we were still sitting in the worship service and where I could faintly hear the sermon. Again, at first, we could only sit outside for a few minutes, but as the weeks wore on, we have been able to sit quietly for longer periods of time (aided by a snack, and the Lord's mercy--with quite a few "ups and downs" :-)). 

It struck me the other week, that Debbie finally seemed to understand (in her age-appropriate way) that we are quiet when we worship and that different behavior is expected of us in church than during playtime, time at home, etc. She is becoming more interested in the hymns as I point them out to her and direct her focus on what is going on around her. She looks at the Bible when we read it and understands that something "different" is happening. She is increasingly more attentive to the different parts of the service. 

When I am no longer able to keep Debbie quiet in the foyer, we go to a quiet room somewhere else in the church and again I speak softly to her and we do "quiet" activities together until we hear the last hymn being sung. I'm trying to impress upon her the "spirit" of worshiping the Lord with other believers in the way that I feel that the Lord has led me--and of course, He may lead someone else in a completely different way.

But I say this to illustrate the principle of "plodding" in an area where the Lord is drawing your heart toward some particular step of obedience. Many weeks, I felt like "Why am I doing this? Why am I putting so much energy and effort into this?" And some weeks my daughter is not as attentive and sometimes she's distracted, and I've felt discouraged. But I want to teach her this principle of "worship," and so I plod on . . . 

And then, all of a sudden, it seemed, the Lord showed me that He was blessing this obedience. I noticed a small change in Debbie, and my heart was glad in Him and in what He had done through simple, plodding obedience. 

For some reason, the Lord has continually impressed that principle on my heart, that is, the principle of "plodding." For years I walked for exercise, day, after day after day in sunny weather or bad, usually going along the same route for months and months. This, in some kind of a "practical" way taught me how to "plod," something that I've needed to learn in my life. The simple act of day after day doing the same activity was building not only a physical, but also a mental endurance and stamina in my person that has helped me in my walk with the Lord.

My Mom was talking to my sister and me in the car the other day and she said something that stuck with me. She said (in reference to how we as Christians can become complacent in different areas of our lives and more and more like the world), "Be fanatical! Don't be normal like everyone else!" Her words strongly impressed upon me the urgency of walking, plodding, living my life as a follower, a lover of Jesus Christ. And she meant it not in the sense of being a misfit or a fanatic just for the sake of drawing attention to oneself, but in the sense of determinedly obeying the Lord even when others were choosing a "wider," "easier" way. 

And it's so easy to be "normal," to be a little bit spiritual and a lot like the world--distracted, shifty, our hearts set on things that are passing away and rejecting what is eternal.

How well I know . . . 

And when everyone else forsook Him, He turned to His disciples and asked them if they would also go away (implied--"like everyone else")  And Peter answered, "To Whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life!" (John 6:67-68)

To whom shall we go? To pleasures, to more and more entertainment? To friends or food or pets or work? Or to the One who has the words of eternal life?

To Him I go . . .


 This has been an extremely useful article for me, written by Noel and John Piper:  
http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/the-family-together-in-gods-presence

Raising Gentle Sons

“Now before him there was no king like him, who turned to the LORD with all his heart, with all his soul, and with all his might, according to the Law of Moses; nor after him did any arise like him.”

II Kings 23:25

My Debbie is asleep; I push her stroller gently through the wooded path and slow down my pace. She always falls asleep when I push her, her little head drooping to the side, her body relaxed near the end of a warm, sticky day. We walk near the woodland brook where my sisters and I used to come when we were little girls. And I stop and sit next to her on a rock near the water. Here I can hear the sound of the sweet birds singing their late-afternoon song in the trees and watch the rustling branches sway in the warm June wind.

Commotion. Three young boys step out of the woods swinging sticks, swinging wildly, talking loudly. The birds are quiet.

“Let’s kill the frogs. Let’s kill them.” They say it over and over, like it is a noble thing to kill without a reason, to stop a heart that God made, for fun. They lumber over to the stream splashing the water with their big sticks, with the instruments they’ve chosen for destruction; they think that branches from a tree make them powerful and important. They don’t realize that true power comes from the Man who once hung upon a tree, so that we could be free from the power of sin, of destruction, over our hearts, from the act of waving big sticks to invoke terror, to cause pain.

They are young; they are foolish. They won’t be capable of causing any harm; they are too loud; the frogs will outsmart them for now. Funny how it goes.

And they will go back home to their video games, to their television programs, to an atmosphere where their moldable hearts will not be trained in a different way than what comes naturally to them.

But when they are older, when their craftiness ripens thick, when their arms and pride-swollen hearts are full to the brim, they will be capable of causing harm, to the least and to the greatest, unless they are taught, unless they are trained differently.

They say “boys will be boys.” How I secretly loathe that saying, how I loathe the way that it is given as an excuse for all churlish, coarse, natural behavior in young “innocent” male children.

Nels Olsen had the right idea in the Little House on the Prairie television series. He responds to that common saying (“boys will be boys”) with “Yes; and monsters will be monsters!” Many times this is the quotation that settles in my head involving some of these little “monsters.”

How will our sons learn to treat their wives with gentleness and respect if they haven’t learned this behavior towards all of God’s creation? How will they learn to submit to God’s authority in their lives if they never learn humility and selflessness, gentleness and compassionate love towards the Lord’s creation and the people and creatures in it?

What kind of a man do I want to protect, to cherish my own little daughter when she grows up? A man who secretly enjoys destruction and suffering in whatever form it takes? A man whose mind has been scarred and jaded by the harsh shells of violent video games and the obscene, charring, soul-callousing-media, or one who protects, who heals, whose mind is pure and free from desiring harm, who is gentle like Jesus, the Shepherd over the sheep?

A mind can be redeemed; a heart can be purified. A man who realizes that the habits of his heart have not been towards holiness, may, through the power of the Holy Spirit, make an about turn. But the upward climb will be difficult, and he will be constantly swimming against the tide of his own terrible habits. It will be more difficult for him than if the foundation had been laid with the smooth stones of sincererity and righteousness, from his mother’s breast to his passage into manhood.

How can we raise our sons, from when they give their first cry, to when their hands will stretch widely over ours? By the grace of God, if He grants me a son, I pray that his hand may not be covered in blood but bathed in kindness and gentleness and peace, for the glory of the Father. I pray that he may be a protector of what is good and right and true, a “healer of the breach,” and a lover of mercy and righteousness.

How can we train our sons?

We may teach them to protect rather than to destroy.

I have a great respect for the armed forces, for men who sacrificially lay down their lives for the lives of others. Many of these boys enter the forces for the excitement and the thrill that this kind of service “promises.” They then leave as men who have seen and tasted the salt of the bitterness and brutality of warfare and death. Their souls are affected by nearness to suffering. The armed forces serve as an example of a man becoming a protector. He protects his country, his children, his wife, through the service he offers. We may train our sons to love to protect—to protect their families (to protect their hearts from lust, their souls from the distractions of the evil one, their bodies from the pollution and scathing imprints of sin)-to protect the “least of these” (the unborn, the handicapped, the mentally retarded, the forgotten elderly)-to protect the Lord’s creation (birds and beasts and all things living-to treat them, for the Lord’s sake, with gentleness and dignity, to think carefully before taking the life of any one of His creatures, as a necessity and not for the pleasure of it, for food, if need be, but not for mere sport). So our sons should be taught to protect rather than to destroy. How may we do this? By taking them into nursing homes and hospitals to help minister to those who are hurting. By encouraging them to befriend the kids who have no friends. By modeling to them a compassionate attitude in the way that we treat animals and living things. Our example will speak volumes to our sons.

We may teach them not to take pleasure in suffering.

For some reason, it seems to come naturally to boys to be cruel towards animals. It’s as if their God-given desire to lead and conquer is misdirected towards crushing and destroying. They are like Vikings rather than the literary representation of “knights in shining armor.” I knew a boy when I was young who used to enjoy cutting worms into pieces. To be honest, he enjoyed watching them suffer. They are only worms, we think, and we justify certain actions by belittling the creature’s supposed ability to feel or be affected by pain. My question is, what “level” of creation will he stop taking that attitude towards? If he enjoys watching a worm suffer, why not a dog, or a horse, or a person made in the image of God? A sparrow is the “lowest” form of bird life and yet the Lord takes pity upon the sparrow and knows every time one falls to the ground. Are we not to model the same compassion that the Lord has towards His creation? I have no problem with humanely and responsibly killing an animal, whether for food, or for neccesity, to end an animal’s suffering, or if there is an infestation of some kind. The problem is not in taking the life of a bird or a beast, of a butterfly or a bug. It is when the animal is being killed, is subjected to suffering for pleasure or for sport, that a line has been crossed. Boys must be taught not to take pleasure in suffering.

We may lead them away from the degradation of sarcasm and the stinging cynicism of this age.

This is a subject that should be elaborated on, but I’ll just touch upon it briefly here. We live in a world that has become jaded to beauty and true sensitivity. Our society lauds and applauds caustic cynicism, sewer-stained humor, and making light of moral issues and absolutes. We delight in things that are ugly and gruesome and make sport of things that were once thought lovely, true and noble. It is utterly accurate that in the last day “men will be scoffers.” (II Peter 3:3)

Our cartoons (intended for very small children) alone are chock-full of angry birds and sarcastic bunnies, not to mention the other forms of media and entertainment that infiltrate our homes. We’ve come a long way from the innocent, sweet simplicity of movies like Bambi and the television series of Lassie, the noble boy’s best friend and protector. Are we too “smart,” too sophisticated for movies like that, now? Do we need sarcasm to sate our appetite for amusement?

We must, as believers, protect our children from the raging influences of media and society, which will sear their impressionable hearts and dull their consciences. May we not offer them something better than this? Something that brings light to the eyes and joy to the heart? We must search high and low to offer them something better, something deeper and richer and truer. Something that will encourage our boys to become true men, disciples of the living Jesus.

So many times, to my shame, I have silently in my heart thought, “Well, boys will be boys.” My prayer is that our boys will become true men, true sons, sons of the Living God, gentle, His radiant light reflecting from their eyes that have grasped the fullness of truth and gentleness and grace. All of our sons, together, for the glory of the Father.

A Life of Joy

Walking in the woods, the pine needles crisp beneath my feet, my soul looks upward, towards the rich, fading sky. I walk in the woods because it helps me to think, clears my mind of distractions, sets my heart on the things above. I sense His presence more deeply here, in the quietness. 

We used to walk in the woods with my Mama. When we were little girls she spent her days with us, gave up her own dreams of pursuing, of becoming so that we could “become,” so that she could encourage our souls into the Savior, lead us to that place of decision, nurture us as only she could. In losing, in “giving up,” in bowing down, she was lifted up, and “became” what God had purposed for her life. We always drove an old car, always wore hand-me-downs; our vacations were simple camping trips. And we were happy, comforted by her being there, content with less because we were rich in our Mother’s love and in our Heavenly Father’s care. 

I meet people that I know and they ask me how do I like staying at home now, how do I like “not working?” And I have to humble myself, bow my pride low before Jesus, answer, think with understanding. Have I ever “worked” harder in my life? When my goals were purely academic, did I even burn the midnight oil then as I do now?—when my baby cries for the sixth, for the seventh time and it is 5am and I am bone-weary? Because before my goals were for myself, my work was towards self-advancement—now, it is bent towards the welfare of another life. It is difficult to lay myself down, consistently, day-in and day-out—and in my humanness, I often complain; I don’t do it perfectly. It is difficult to lay oneself down in a society screaming for self-realization, self-fulfillment, and a “you deserve it” mentality. 

I love my baby, and it is because I love her that I lay myself down—as every mother does, through the sleepless, fitful nights, through the colic, through the fussiness, through the sickness, through the helplessness of these small ones, these tiny infant souls. 

And they say to me “I wish that I could do that; stay at home with my baby; you must be very financially secure.” 

Is money the answer to everything? Is worldly security the answer to a life of joy? Do I tell them that my husband and I share a car--an old car, that we very rarely travel, that we eat beans and a lot of spaghetti? That my clothing comes from consignment shops, that we can’t afford K-cups, that I don’t “get my nails done.” Or do I humble myself and smile and try to live before them a life that is different, the life that the Father has called me to at this time, and that only by the grace of God . . . ? 

Is it “wrong” for a woman to pursue her own goals, apart from raising her children, apart from her family? Is it wrong for a woman to seek a job, seek a career, spend her time chasing, self-fulfilling? Only the individual can answer that question before God, in the quiet conscience of her heart. And there are varying situations which may call for varying answers of how this may work itself out . . . but the question always comes, the piercing question—Am I laying myself down? Am I sincerely following the Father’s leading upon my life or the pattern that society has laid before me, imposed upon me, backed my conscience into a corner with? Am I empty, ready to be filled with joy? Or am I so “full” of this world’s treasures and comforts that I don’t even comprehend what real joy is? “He who would follow Me must deny himself, take up his cross and follow . . .”(Matthew 16:24). “He who would seek to save his own life will lose it, but he who loses his life for My sake will find it . . .” (Matthew 16:25). “He who gives up houses and lands in this life . . .” (Matthew 19:29).

What am I doing with my life, the life that the Son of Man has entrusted to me, the Son of Man who had no place to lay His head? And will it matter for eternity—and for a life of joy in the now? Every man, every woman has to answer that question before the Father. 

But I want what I am doing to matter, not to be burned up as chaff on that Great Day. And my soul cries out to hear those words spoken to me, through the blood of Christ—“Well done, thou good and faithful servant . . .” For this is joy realized and tasted; this is life and glory.