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Posts from the ‘motherhood’ Category

Obay.

Just wanted to record the sweetest rebuke I ever received — from my firstborn a couple weeks ago.

Pup had been wetting his pants again and again for a few weeks, making for some really inconvenient clean-up situations.  I lost my patience with him, and I yelled at him for an accident.  And as he cowered under my shouting, Cub quietly left the room and then returned shortly after with a little note in his hand.  He shyly handed it to me:

YOU MUST OBAY THE LORD.

Kapow.  God’s grace.

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Little apple of my eye.

This morning, Pup came to snuggle with me and fell asleep as I patted his head. When he woke up, I stroked his cheek and looked at his little face for a long time. He looked straight back at me. Then he said, “Umma, I can see my face in your eyes.”

3.

Pup turned 3 a little over a week ago, and I’ve been savoring all the snuggles and kisses and “hold me”s I can.  He’s been crawling into my lap and just asking me to hold him lately.  Savoring it while I can — along with his chubby wrists and dimpled knuckles — while he’s still the baby of the family.

5.

Cub turned 5 a few days ago.  And the one thing I want to remember is this:

I had a sharp disagreement with one of my parents while they were visiting this week.  Feeling sick and nauseous compounded my emotions.  I went to my room in tears.

A few moments later, I heard little feet outside my door and Cub walked in, climbed into my bed, hugged me, and told me, “I love you, umma.”

Then he quietly walked back out and closed the door after him.

I was touched by his boyish thoughtfulness, showing me love and then giving me space to work out my emotions (like he often needs for himself).  I believe God used it to soften my heart in a heated moment.  It could definitely use more softening and humbling, but God was kind to use love — and not a rod.

Focus.

It’d been a rough week with Cub, and I felt like I had been talking to him all week about foolish decisions, the way of fools, everything fool related.

So this morning, I pulled him onto my lap and began to tell him also of the beautiful things I saw in his life.  Wise decisions he had made, kindness, thoughtfulness, his love for music and beauty.

And looking into my eyes, he smiled, and said,

“I want to touch your eyeballs.”

#fourgoingonfive

Equal at the foot of the Cross.

Yesterday, Cub pointed out my sin to me. For the first time. Unprompted.

I’d confessed sin against him before, but this was the first time he pointed it out to me before I confessed it.  And he did it so sweetly: “Umma, you sinned against God and against me when you screamed at me to clean up the shapes.”

Dang. He was right.  (And thankfully, he brought it up a little after the event, so I had time to cool down.)

So I had to ask him for forgiveness on the spot and pray for God’s forgiveness, too.

I’m sure I won’t always feel this way when my son unearths my sin, but at that moment, by God’s grace, I felt a sense of the beauty of the gospel.  A gospel where a son can humbly point out his umma’s sin and they can approach the cross together, confessing sin and rejoicing in God’s grace for sinners together.

A missionary mother.

From Susanna Wesley, as quoted  by Dorothy Patterson in “The High Calling of Wife & Mother in Biblical Perspective,” Recovering Biblical Manhood & Womanhood:

No one can, without renouncing the world, in the most literal sense, observe my method; and there are few, if any, that would entirely devote above twenty years of the prime of life in hopes to save the souls of their children, which they think may be saved without so much ado; for that was my principal intention, however unskillfully and unsuccessfully managed.

To renounce the world. To devote the prime of life to save the souls of my children.  To spend my energies there.  Not for myself but for them.  And not for them but for Him.

That is my prayer.

Love protects.

Cub and I were walking to the store today on a busy street, cars zipping by.  And I put him on the inner half of the sidewalk so I’d be closer to the cars.  In the past, I had explained to him that umma and appa walk on the outside closer to the cars to protect him because we love him.

As I did that, he said to me, “Umma, when I become a man, I’m going to walk on the outside and you’re going to walk on the inside.”

“Aww, you’re going to protect umma?”

“Yes.” And he pulled his shoulders back and walked a little straighter. “See, I’m almost a man.”

A praying mother.

The impression that a praying mother leaves upon her children is life-long. Perhaps when you are dead and gone your prayer will be answered.

Dwight L. Moody

But God.

 

JE and I talked about how the artwork our parents hung in our childhood homes are seared in our memories to this day.  He remembers the Korean Scripture that hung over his mantle, I remember the Serenity Prayer that hung in our bathroom, as well as other pieces our parents chose for the home.  A quote here, an image there, a verse here, a portrait there.

So we’ve been thinking a little more strategically about the things we want hanging in our kids’ memories.  A map of the world to hopefully give them a perspective and heart for the unreached.  Our life verses.  Hebrews 13:14, which I have yet to make.  And a little square  with just two words — But God.

I wondered at what age our kids would begin to ask us what “but God” means and why we have that strange, incomplete thought on the wall.

So I painted But God on an 8 x 8″ piece of watercolor paper today.  Cub watched me paint it from afar as he was reading during Pup’s nap time.  When I finished, he came next to me and read it.  “But God.”

And then he said, “But God…..still loves us?”

He was asking if that was what it meant.

I was so surprised all I could do was kiss him.