Dragon Thoughts

Just yesterday I was talking to my neighbor about being an adult and still wanting parental approval.

 

It’s funny because Nici and Bug already search for it. She pauses and waits for my eye contact before becoming a bounce machine. He’ll lash out and then cling to my leg in true bear cub fashion seeking attention and love.

 

We don’t outgrow this, the lashing out and clinging, the desire for direct eye contact; the desire to be seen and cherished and praised.

 

And as I lay in bed next to my bear cub I can’t help but think on how my parents balanced this…the internal dialogue went like this:

 

Parents: if you play with dragons, you’re going to get burnt

 

Me: I want to play with dragons so I will (I don’t know where Nici gets his defiance)

 

train your dragonParents: here’s some burn cream. What did you learn? By the way, you are fearless and awesome.

 

(Yes, How to Train Your Dragon is Nici’s current obsession)

 

And as I lay there hugging my bearcub I know he will ride dragons bareback.

 

And I listen to my little bug with her heavy sleepy breaths thinking, “let her sleep for when she wakes she will breathe fire.”

 

And I pray I equip them appropriately. That they always feel loved and seen and treasured and fearless.

 

And I pray that when I do drop the ball it’s ok, because they know their heavenly Father who always sees and always loves.

 

And I remind myself I am His child too. And enjoy playing with Dragons.

  • J
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What Shall I Fear?

“Fear not Abram: I am thy shield, and thy exceeding reward.”  Genesis 15:1b

 

I don’t usually (and by not usually, I mean never) read King James version.  But, for some reason, my Bible app had reset to this setting.  I am so glad it did, because I love this version of this verse.

 

God protects us and He is our reward.  The two main things.

 

We know he has our back. And we know what we are fighting for ~ a reward we’ve already been given.

 

We’ve already won and God is on our side.

 

Truly, what do we have to fear?

 

This is not what I would consider my “natural” demeanor or inclination when it comes to fear, worry, or anxiety.  

But, for some reason, I am becoming increasingly okay with this idea – Making the conscious choice of letting things go because I know who is in control, I know who knows better than I, and I know at the end of my life I will find myself sitting at His feet.
So, again, truly, what do I have to fear?

– S

Bear Cub Perspective

I opened my eyes to minion talk and bear breathe two inches from my face. At 2 am. And no I wasn’t sleeping so this didn’t startle me; we’d been awake since 11 pm and this was just one of his many silly antics that night.

 

By God’s grace I find him endearing, and can smile and keep perspective (most days and nights) through the exhaustion.

 

Perspective that these all nighters surely will end. And I will desperately miss his little bear body beckoning me to hide and feed him at all hours of the night.

3 hours of sleep is the norm this month. I realize that makes me some sort of a vampire.

 

Some days I’m just angry, I was told sleep would come by now. The training and theories and well intended advice, that’s for other, less stubborn, less strong willed children. I have nothing less than a bear cub. And he will not be tamed or bribed.

 

And that energy, freedom, dare I say defiance, is what I love the most. He beats to his own drum and requires minimal sleep and oozes passion.

 

It’s not my job to break him down into this convenient (sleep oriented) box.

 

His is a wild spirit; my bear cub, too soon to be man cub.

 

It is my job to teach him to harness this spirit for good and truth and adventure. To rest and recharge in his ways, not mine.

 

What is most frustrating in him, is also most exciting.

 

I love this bear child and thank God for perspective and grace (for us both) on these long nights.

  • J

An Ode to the Mommas

A mother’s love is impossible. You learn an entirely new dimension to love when you become a mother.

Each time a baby is born, a mother is born, because you’re a mother brand new. There is no such thing as a seasoned mom, or one that’s seen it all. Each moment is fresh with each child.

Each child has a different mom, because each child requires it.

So, all those articles for “first time” moms are crap. Unless you read them as intently with the second, third, fourth…but my personal preference is not at all. Nothing can prepare you, and trying to follow the guidelines is for someone with less passionate children than me.

We spend our entire lives, our very existence, and all the moments in between being a mom and trying to figure out how to be the best mom our child needs. How to build them up and love them hard and prepare them for this crazy world ride.

We err, we faulter too often. But we err in love. Always in love. Always with their very best at heart.

But no matter what they grow up. And then, they get decide. And err. And faulter.

And some yell early, and late, always feel it too hard. Some rebel in loud, obvious ways pushing to be an adult too soon.

And some mess up early and walk gentle and stubbornly move mountains in supposed solitude with an army within.

And some feel darkly and deeply and let anger penetrate too long. And some crave love and acceptance to the point of idiocy.

And some are still little and give literal smacking kisses and floor you with their smiles and favor of the rice Krispy treats.

Being a mom is an impossible blessing…for they grow up. And all too fast.

They get to mess up all too big, too soon. But if you’ve done it right, they err on the side of love.

So sleep peaceful weary mommas, knowing you’ve done your best, and it was right and it was enough.

You’ve taught them to err on the side of love. And that’s not bad.

Because at the end of the day Supreme Love conquers all, and a heart ready for love is a heart ready for Him.

And these three remain: Faith, hope and love. And the greatest of these is love.  1 Corinthians 13:13

  • J

New Year, New Word

perspectiveEvery holiday season we whip out a little game called Settler of Catan.

 

I’m not sure why I participate. I rarely win and frequently get cranky and am too distracted to device a solid game plan or read the cards I get….I digress.

 

You win the game by having 10 victory points, which you earn a number of very different ways.

 

This new year, 2016, I’m trying really hard to keep perspective. 2015 was rough, continuing the game lingo, my oxen drowned and my family died of influenza.

perspetoves

I felt exhausted and empty, a lot. Satan achieved some many victory points in my daily life simply by me losing perspective and freaking out. In those moments, I showed no trace of God in me, and didn’t be a foundation in Christ for my family.

 

I want a new year, a new beginning, but am smart enough to know it wont be all rainbows and unicorns, especially with a move on our horizon.

 

So my goal, my new word this year, is perspective. This life is a cosmic battlefield, my home is a battlefield.

 

My life, parenting, marriage has come a long way in 5 months (in many ways thanks to counseling).

 

But some days I lose all perspective. I feel angry, and ugly, and fat, and miserable in a difficult marriage, I feel not understood, and under appreciated, and I lash out. And I yell and cry and want my point proven and eyes opened, and I want to move forward and not be here again…

 

Every day Satan uses the ordinary daily mundane to overwhelm me and I inevitably react in his favor, when I lose perspective, taking victory points away from God and handing them over to the enemy.

 

“Do I really…believe that anger achieves more than love? That Satan’s way is more powerful more practical more fulfilling in my daily life than Jesus’ way? Why else get (so) angry…because I think complaining, exasperation, resentment will pound me up into the full life I really want? When I choose – and it is a choice- to crush joy with bitterness, am I not purposefully choosing to the ways of the Prince of Darkness?”

 

Perspective!

  • J

Marriage is Hard

11219219_10106942037787444_815838479930160183_nMarriage is so hard. Way harder than parenting, and THAT is hard.

 

Honest truth: I rushed in, eyes wide open to the possibilities with not a freaking clue to the realities.

 

It’s hard. All these personality mash ups, all this compromise, years of sleepless nights, weeks of single parenting at a time, weeks of learning to release control when he returns.

 

This oilfield life is no easy thing.

 

My wild haired, emotional, expressive self meeting up with his brushed head, even tempered, steady self.

 

Sounds like a opposites attractive, feels like opposites ignite…frustrations.

 

But here’s the thing, I still love him. And every day I still choose him. He drives me bonkers and the verdict iss still out if we’re just crazy stubborn or actually compatable.

 

His level temperament is enough to make my gypsy soul boil and scream.  Where is his wild child side? Where is his passion?

 

And then I realize, it’s me. It’s right by his side.

 

He is my practical, he is my balance, he is my calm. I am his wild. I am his intensity. I am his fury.

 

And yes, I still pray daily that he’ll have an emotional outburst and the floodgates will open and words will tumble out.

 

I had no clue of the realities of marriage; I had no clue to what being an oilfield wife and mom would look or feel like. I had no clue as to how hard it would be to be with a reasonable man, how hard it would be with any man. How much compromise is required, or that I’m capable of giving so much without losing myself.

 

150164_10102586959159924_1492908182_nBut even if I had a clue, I would have said “I do” again.

 

I love him, and I’m stubborn like that. And even though sometimes I wonder if we’ll make it through these years of littles, I know the answer is yes. And I will love him harder. And keep my Bible open, it’s harder to throw that way.

 

I am his storm, and his can’t cope, wild hair, and  gypsy soul, so I’ll let him keep that dang hairbrush. (after all, he’s probably wishing I’d use it)

  • J

I am in Chains

 

“I am in chains, but the word of God is not chained.” 1 Timothy: 2:9

 

Makes me think of all things I am and He is.

 

I am weak, He is strong.

 

I am limited, He is limitless.

 

I am  scared, He is brave.

 

I am anxious, He is peace.

 

I am hesitant,  He is purposeful.

 

I am managing, He is in control.
I am so in need of all that He is.