Cookie Love Language
After 10 years of marriage, I’ve discovered that Dave and I speak very different chocolate chip cookie love languages. I like more flour and less “spread,” and he likes less flour and more spread. Pray for us.
Grace
Wild Game
Deep thoughts by Boy Mom: Do I stop them keep running around the house like a herd of elephants (because I grit my teeth it’s so annoying, not to mention probably not great manners), or do i let them keep going and think, “Yesssss….. keep going. Keep going and you’ll pass out at bedtime.” The struggle. So very very real. Also, if you’re in to hunting wild game, I guarantee you the Lin boys will give you a run for your money tonight.
Awesome Mom
Dear awesome mom: you saw what was going on… my youngest decided to throw a raging fit in the middle of the crosswalk because I made him hold my hand. While he threw himself down on the ground, you locked eyes with me, pointed to Sam and said, “I’ll watch this one.” I grabbed TJ, threw him over my shoulders and without a word, you accompanied me to my car with Sam while TJ went berserk. You helped Sammy in while I smashed my little raging ball of fire into his car seat. You just became part of my tribe. Hats of to you awesome mom! Thanks for the example and I’ll pay it forward.
Some Big Shoes to Fill
Been fighting big battles on quite a few fronts lately. It’s mostly left Dave and I physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. Consequently, we had a quiet and last-minute celebration of my father-in-law’s 80th birthday tonight. The boys have been fortunate to know all four of their grandparents who have been surrounding them and just being awesome since the day they were born.
We went out to eat. At a restaurant. With the three boys. At night. And I was struggling with complete irritation over not wanting to chase them all over the restaurant and correct etiquette and “don’t stick your hands in the ice water” and “stop waving around the chopsticks”… but you know that’s all they wanted to do.
Little TJ had chosen to wear Sammy’s shoes tonight. Did I fight that battle? You bet your sweet booty I did not. I let him wear those too big shoes and he was so darn proud of them. He could barely walk in them but he grinned and stumbled around.
As brother three got down for the millionth time, I saw brother one quietly get down from the table and start following him around. He did it before I could even get up. Oh trust… Dave was in the bathroom with number two so we were just playing zone defense. Everyone has 10 jobs at restaurant and only .5 of one of the jobs is actually eating food.
Josh got down and just followed close after TJ, making sure he wasn’t going to climb up on the table and table dance. Not out of character for him. Interestingly enough, when Josh gently grabbed him, TJ leaned into him whereas if it were me, he would throw a big crazy fit and I’d have to fireman carry him out of the restaurant.
I watched this scene unfold. At one point, TJ lost his too-big shoe. Josh gently grabbed him and the shoe and carefully put it back on.
My eyes filled with tears. Somewhat from exhaustion, but mostly out of pride for the small scene I had just witnessed. One brother taking responsibility for another and the other brother trusting in his guidance.
I told Josh at bedtime that watching him put his brother’s shoes on was the absolute best part of my day and I could not be more proud he was my son. His heart is so sensitive.
Take my hand, Lord. Lead me around. Put on my too big shoes when they fall off. Keep me from harm. A simple prayer tonight as I drift off, but no less sincere.
A Winter Wonderland
Guys, most of what I post is pretty funny, because, you know… life is pretty funny. But there is such a wonderful moment I need to share with you, because God delivers grace to me in the most unexpected ways.
Dave and I were done, tonight. We were just at the end. You know that place. You’ve done so much for everyone else that there is nothing left.
Dave went upstairs to check on the two youngest who were in the baby room reading books etc. Or… WERE SUPPOSED TO BE. When he got to the gate, I heard him emit the sound of complete despair and disbelief… a sound I only know is based on really bad things and giant messes. So I ran upstairs. The boys were gleefully relieving a bean bag of all its little pearly foam contents and it was everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Like a winter wonderland in a Burl Ives songbook.
I was seething. I knew he had a hard day too but I looked at Dave and said “This. This stuff happened the entire day and I’m just. So. Tired.” Being a man of wisdom and action, he gathered the boys and ran them through the shower while I tackled the mess. Three vacuum bags later and it was all cleaned up. I closed the gate outside the room and just sat there, slumped over from exhaustion and defeat. The boys ran out of the shower and they were running all over the place (as usual).
“BOYS!!!! GET IN YOUR ROOM!!!” I shouted in a mean voice dripping with everything that had been building all day.
Josh stopped, ran over to me and gave me a big hug.
In my ugliest, my five-year-old… saw me. He saw the sad ending and showed me grace and compassion.
I guess I didn’t expect it from them… yet. Heck, if I’m honest… maybe I didn’t expect it from them, ever. I know I’m selling them short and in doing so, I’m selling my God short, Who takes shattered things and puts them back together with grace and truth. And what better way to put me back together than through my own children.
They’ll be men some day. The desire of my heart is that they’ll continue to show this vulnerability and grace based on a real, living relationship with Jesus, the author of grace. Radical, ridiculous, undeserved grace.
In the middle of a winter wonderland (in a sunny Scottsdale April), I watched my baby boy create a moment of holiness for his mother who was struggling big time that day.
I finished cleaning up the snowy landscape and carried the remains of the bean bag outside to be dealt with at a later time. Never in a million years did I expect this night to end peacefully and in a lesson of graciousness… for me.
The house sleeps now and in the late hours, I think of what else I might learn tomorrow. “At least,” I think to myself, “Sleep will give me some rest and I’ll wake up less mean tomorrow morning.” Who am I kidding? I hate mornings. Gracious Lord, I’d like to pre-order a double-shot of grace in the AM. With whipped cream.