What's Better Than a Bed Full of Teddy Bears?

She sleeps with them every night. Soft Kitty, Rainbow Bear, Brownie the Horse and Wrinkles the Dog. Stuffed animals—dozens of them—piled high on the covers and around her pillow and tucked under her loving arms. My two-year-old so craves the company of her plush friends, she barely leaves enough room for herself in that narrow toddler bed.

Comfort. Warmth. Security. Softness. They’re basic human needs, really, and so freely expressed in childhood. We swaddle our babes from infancy and hug away their fears. We send them to school in undershirts and snow pants and extra gloves. Drink this warm milk. Take this hot bath. Mother loves you. I will keep you snug.

Doesn’t everybody yearn for protection?

I still do. Sometimes, like my daughter, I seek it in small places. In the favorite sweater I wrap around my shoulders on a biting winter day. A fleece blanket draped heavy over sweatpants while I clutch a book in one hand and a steaming mug in the other.

Safety is that spot on my husband’s chest, where I rest my weary head and whisper hopes for tomorrow.

Where do you seek it?

“Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. This I declare about the LORD: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I trust him. For he will rescue you from every trap and protect you from deadly disease. He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection,” (Psalm 91:1–4, NLT).

Sometimes it’s hard to imagine God as my protector. I can’t wrap my arms around him or hear his voice chatting at the dinner table. Of course he is always with me, yes, I believe that in my head—yet my heart just doesn’t picture him sitting on a bean bag chair in the living room.

Then I considered Psalm 91 and it dawned on me—maybe God isn’t in the room.

God is the room.

He is the overarching shadow that covers all my space and days and worries. No mound of teddy bears, no stack of blankets, not even my husband’s strongest embrace could ever top that.

Do you see? Deep down, our basic need for comfort is a mere reflection of our greater need for a Savior. God created us to crave security because, in the end, he’s the only place we can find it.

“There is salvation in no one else! God has given no other name under heaven by which we must be saved,” (Acts 4:12, NLT).

Last night, I tucked my daughters into bed and turned off the lamp. My two-year-old burrowed beneath her cluster of fuzzy pals and giggled. “Nigh-night, Mommy!”

“Good night, precious. Mom loves you.”

“I love you, too!”

In my heart, another voice whispered to us all.

Father loves you. I will keep you snug.

That is the summary of Psalm 91. As my daughter outgrows her affection for Soft Kitty and Rainbow Bear, I pray she’ll seek lasting security in her true Protector, the One who covers her with his feathers and shelters her with his wings.

What a comforting thought, yes? I’m taking it to my pillow tonight. I hope you will, too.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like I Love You Lots and Cows, How Big Is God, and When You Wake Up With a Foot in Your Face.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Rethinking My Thinking, What He's Done Wednesday, Wedded Wednesday, and Things I Can't Say.

When Left to Their Own Devices

My kids can get away with any crime known to childhood—as long as I’m on the phone.

“Mom, can we have a special mix?” My five-year-old tugged at my sleeve and whispered this request for her favorite snack—a mix of Goldfish, pretzels, peanuts, Cheerios, and whatever else is in the cupboard at the moment. I cradled the phone between my shoulder and my chin, shook out a wrinkled sweater from a basket of laundry I was folding, and glanced down at my daughter.

“Mom!” She poked me. “Can we?”

I nodded and waved her off, eager to catch every word from a long-distance friend.

“Can we put chocolate chips in it?”

“Sure,” I mouthed, distracted. “Just a few.”

For the next 20 minutes, sweet conversation fueled my soul while two happy daughters giggled in their bedroom, not bothering to interrupt me again.

That should’ve been a clue, eh? But of course, I was busy chatting.

Too late, I hung up the phone and carried a stack of socks to my daughter’s dresser. That’s where I found the snack cups—filled halfway to the brim with chocolate chips. Seems our “special mix” wasn’t a mix at all, but a mound of Toll House morsels with a few Craisins tossed in for good measure.

“Girls, is this what you call a special mix? Didn’t I say only a few chocolate chips?”

My five-year-old’s chocolate mustache wilted to a guilty frown. “Sorry, Momma.”

I pressed my lips together and stifled a laugh. This was my own darn fault.

“Sweetheart, how many is a few?”

“Nineteen.”

“No, it means three. Only three, technically. These cups have closer to a hundred chocolate chips in them.”

“But we like chocolate chips!”

“So do I. However, a cup full of them—before dinner—is not a good idea. I think you know that.” I confiscated the snack cups and prayed their sugar high would wear off before bedtime.

Heaven help me.

When left to their own devices, my children twist the rules. Furniture cushions become a canvas for markers. (“You said no crayons on the sofa!”) People are punching bags. (“I didn’t hit her! We were having a pillow fight!”) And jelly beans are dinner, not dessert. (“But I did eat my vegetables first! I had two peas!”)

Thankfully my girls are under the guidance of a higher authority—their parents. We provide boundaries because we love them. And, when I’m not blabbing on the phone, those boundaries serve and protect our children well.

But the chocolate chip incident got me thinking. What’s in my special mix? What boundaries do I push when it seems like nobody is looking?

God says do not worry. But I’m not worrying, exactly. I’m just, uh, concerned. Yep.

God says a fool gives full vent to his anger. But I’m not angry! I’m just frustrated! All moms yell when they reach their breaking point, don’t they?

God says submit to your husband as to the Lord. But seriously, if God knew what my husband just said to me, he would totally offer me immunity from that suggestion.

Right?

Not really.

“Those who trust in themselves are fools, but those who walk in wisdom are kept safe,” (Proverbs 28:26).

Our kids aren’t the only ones who answer to a higher authority. Grown-ups do, too. God spells out our boundaries in the Bible because he loves us—and he knows how many chocolate chips we can handle before our bellies start to ache.

“Mom, when can we have our snack cups back?” My five-year-old followed me to the kitchen, where I pulled a pint of cherry tomatoes from the fridge.

“You can’t. But you can help me make a salad for dinner.”

“Salad? I’m not hungry for salad.”

“Because your tummy is full of chocolate chips, I suppose.” I raised my eyebrows and shot a stern look. She lowered her chin, repentant.

“Okay, I’ll eat a salad. But I don’t like those tomatoes.”

“No worries,” I winked. “I’ll only give you a few.”


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like But Everybody Else Is Doing It, No Eat Play-Doh, and Life Lessons from a Bird, a Net, and a Scissors.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, Rethinking My Thinking, What He's Done Wednesday, and Things I Can't Say.

Sometimes the Laundry Just Needs to Get Done

“She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks,” (Proverbs 31:17).

“Mommy, will you play this with me?” My two-year-old peered over a mountain of heaping laundry baskets. She clutched an UNO Moo barn in her hand.

Ugh. I looked at my daughter, then at the laundry, then back to my daughter again. Scolding phrases whipped through my head—words I’ve read countless times in e-mail forwards and catchy Facebook posts. You’ve heard them. Those modern admonishments meant to encourage frazzled moms.

Days are long but the years fly by.

Rock and don’t sweep, because babies don’t keep.

A messy house is a happy house.

So true! I believe that!

But then I stared down a pile of grubby socks and realized—enough, already. Seriously. This family is one day short of recycling our dirty underwear. Sometimes the laundry just has to get done.

I swallowed hard and gazed straight into my daughter’s pleading eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I cannot play right now. Mom has to do some chores.”

Suddenly a strange sense of empowerment tingled through my veins. It felt a little like rebellion. Yes! I must do the chores! And that does NOT make me a bad mom!

Quite the opposite, I think.

My house is nowhere near immaculate. I stopped trying years ago, when I discovered babies are messy and moms need naps. But I wonder—have we gone a little too far? Do we encourage each other so much to spend every waking moment relishing fleeting childhood, that any time spent otherwise is deemed a waste, or selfish? We don’t guilt each other about our dirty floors anymore, and that’s great. But now, instead, are we sheepish about cleaning them?

I’m taking a stand for mothers everywhere.

It’s okay to clean.

Or to cook. Or to spend a morning running errands, paying bills, making phone calls and folding towels. That’s what grown-ups do. And how else will our kids learn unless we demonstrate?

After all, life is not a big game of UNO.

Recently, I read an article about a local Amish family. It was a diary of their typical week, written by the father of six grown children. Each day consisted of chores, cooking, and family devotions. The grandkids ran in the barn while the older children milked cows, and everyone helped make pies for the family bakery business. They were all faithfully devoted to one another as they worked side by side from dawn to dusk.

Could it be that the real call on a family is not for the parents to serve the children, but for everyone to serve each other for the glory of God? It’s up to us parents to teach the kids how—by example.

Jesus did it first. He invited his disciples to follow him and learn from him while he worked. While he taught, healed, and prayed. As moms, our core duties are much the same. Teach. Nurture. Pray like crazy.

So sometimes we work. Sometimes we play. Strong families are built with both. Let’s stop the flow of guilt from either end, amen?

“Sweetie, I have a great idea.” I set my daughter’s game on the table and clapped her hands in mine. “You can help me put these clothes in the wash. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Okay, Momma!” Her face lit up. “Can I push the buttons, too?”

“Absolutely. You are a good button pusher.”

“Yay!” She squealed with delight as if I’d just asked her to play, well, UNO Moo or something.

Amazing. It took an Amish diary to show me what a toddler knows at heart. Work is play.

Looks like I’m going to be getting a lot more laundry done around here. We might need bigger underwear drawers.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like Queen of the Castle: A Fresh Perspective on Housework, How a Wiggles Movie Changed My Life, and If You Give a Mom a Minute.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, and Things I Can't Say.

Wishing to Grow Up Too Fast

“I want a loose toof!” My two-year-old stood beside the bathroom sink and watched her big sister smile at the mirror, revealing a fresh gap of missing tooth.

“You’ll get one when you’re older, sweetheart. I promise.” I patted my toddler’s head and squeezed a blob of fruity training paste onto her toothbrush. “Right now you’re still growing your baby teeth.”

“But I want a dollar, too! Under my pillow! Please, Momma?”

“Sorry,” my five-year-old chirped, “but you have to wait until you’re a big girl in kindergarten.”

“Hmmpf!” My toddler crossed her arms and sunk her chin into her chest.

It’s tough being little.

My younger daughter looks up to her big sister. She wants to be like her. They play with the same toys, eat the same food, hold to the same bedtimes and wear matching outfits. In my toddler’s mind, she and her sister are equals.

Except they’re not, really. Of course their dad and I love them both equally, and we treat them with the same standards of affection and discipline. But certain privileges come with age.

Five-year-olds go to their classmates’ birthday parties. Two-year-olds stay home.

Five-year-olds whiz down the big slide at swimming lessons. Two-year-olds sit on Mom’s lap and watch.

Five-year-olds cut and paste crafts to their heart’s delight. Two-year-olds aren’t allowed to use the scissors without close supervision.

Such cruel restrictions! And the deprived toddler argues—Me, too! Me, too! I want that, too! Why can’t I have it? I don’t understand!

Well, now. That sounds familiar. I’ve whined those words a few times before—to God.

I want that promotion. Give it to me, please?

I want another baby. Why is this taking so long?

I want to write a book. She gets to! Why can’t I?

I pray. I plead. I grumble and dream. But sometimes God answers—wait.

Not yet, my child.

You’re not ready.

You’re still growing and maturing.

I’m equipping you to handle what you’re asking for—on my timeframe.

Trust me.

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time,” (1 Peter 5:6).

“Look, Momma!” My toddler clutched her bottom front teeth between two fingers, squishing her nose with a fist full of knuckles. “I can pull my toof, too!”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t do that.” I steered her hand away from her mouth. “Your tooth won’t budge. You might hurt yourself.”

Her lips drooped and she looked up at me with glossy eyes. I cupped her cheek in my palm and grinned.

“Your teeth are beautiful just the way they are. You’ll get bigger soon enough. For now, just enjoy being two.”

Words of wisdom for my own eager heart.

Yours, too? Are you praying to grow up too fast? Let’s stop yanking at the root. Rest confident that God will lift us up in his perfect timing.

Until then, keep smiling—with every toof you’ve got.


If this post encouraged you, please pass it on. You might also like When You Want What They Have, When God Doesn’t Give You What You Ask For, and How My Walk of Faith Is Like a Stroller Ride.

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Linking up with: The Better Mom, Playdates With God, The Mom Initiative, Titus 2sdays, Grace at Home, and Things I Can't Say.