when in Rome qnd Pqris

This will not be q long post because even the keyboard is different here_ in Paris; thqt is! notice thqt the a is q q here! The exclqmqtion mqrk is fqr more qccessible thqn the period.

I will hqve lots of stories soon. For now; Matt is circling. We qre heqded to q picnic in front of the Eiffel Tower.

In chains

While visiting the ruins of the Colosseum and the Roman Palatine, I ducked into St. Peter's jail cell-nothing more than a hole in the ground. After international travel gone awry, I am acutely aware of my reaction to discomfort. To see this space, to stand on the stones; this connects me to the Rock of my faith.

faith is...

Can you see the discussion? Here the questions? Should we JUMP?

Today Matt and I will board an airplane and fly across the Atlantic Ocean to Rome, Italy in celebration of our 20th wedding anniversary. All the jitters of a new bride have been at work in me these past weeks in preparation. 

I will walk in and sit down on thousands of pounds of fiberglass, metal and who knows what else. Then that large craft will climb thousands of feet in the air. Do I understand how? No! Will that lack of understanding stop me from “trusting” it enough to get on board? No!

I am not missing the analogy of this and faith. Now, I can study aerodynamics and the physics of flying and perhaps understand why the airplane stays in the sky. The analogy breaks down because I will NEVER study enough and understand how God works. 

A friend was telling me about her recent struggles yesterday. Literally the chaos of life this side of the garden is threatening to take her down. Well, really, it has taken her down. She is floundering. With tears in her eyes, she said, “I cannot find the logic.” In other words, “Why, God?!”

I get that. I have uttered those words. I have pounded my fist. I am lucky she did not hit me because I said, “You will never find logic. And you will drive yourself crazy looking.”

We spoke of how God engineers our stories so that we circle back around on ourselves and the pains we have buried are resurrected. This is our chance to bring them back to Our Father. And if we don’t believe in His healing for ourselves, we cannot with authenticity believe it for our children.

I don’t want to circumvent the process of asking WHY! These little and big why question marks are the very breadcrumbs that lead us home. We must pick up each and every breadcrumb and own the question. God already knows they reside in our souls. And they take us to surrender, home. 

Even though I don’t understand and, frankly, will never understand, why God does what He does; I will get on the plane and in faith believe that He is taking me somewhere. And that it is GOOD. And that is the strength and hope I share.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1

what mothers do

Friday Matthew arrives home from UT. I hug him while chastising him for not returning my phone call. The old iPhone bad battery story silences my objections. Turns out he had a blow-out on I-40, changed to the spare, drove over to buy a tire. Changed that tire and headed home. A whole lifetime lived in one day. This, of course, justifies a mother’s worry when the phone battery dying and the tire blowing out coincide in one afternoon. I jot down a to do list topped with “buy car phone charger.”

As I pluck the 50-pound laundry basket from his arms, I see the faded blue IGBOK sweatshirt and make a mental note to lift it and take it to Italy with me. 

The next morning as Sam watches cartoons and I slice apples, Matthew gave me a blow by blow of the chick flick he and his girlfriend, Lily, watched the night before. Since I NEVER get to watch Chick Flicks, he spoils the plot for me right then and there. While I scoop out peanut butter into bowls, he captures the plot in eight words: Love and fame cannot live in same place.

Joshua bursts through the back door and demands a snack. “I’m working on it!” I say.

Then Matthew describes precisely the moment when the main character decides to take her own life. He googles the theme song stuck in his head and plays it for me right then and there. I don’t think to marvel at his astuteness until now because Sam hollers from the den, “another one!” This means he wants me to put another cartoon from the On Demand menu. To be a child again!

I chase Sam outside because who wants to watch tv on a gorgeous Tennessee morning?

These are the moments of motherhood that weave together and make a beautiful story.

And there are the other moments...

Matt and I sit in fold-up chairs on the sideline watching our third soccer game of the day. Joshua grabs at his hair after watching the ball land in the opponent’s goal. He turns and walks away from the goal toward center field as our goalie throws in the ball. I scream a little too loudly and harshly, “JOSHUA, WATCH THE BALL!” Matt points out not so gently that the ball is not live. The goalie is just returning the ball to mid-field for the kick-off. 

I cope with being exposed as one of THOSE parents by taking out my iPhone and studying my Twitter account. 

I’m at one of those crossroads as a mother when you begin to focus less on the ways your own parents harmed you. With maturity comes the realization that I will undoubtedly inflict pain upon my own children. An important rite of passage, this transition adjusts my vision much like the reading glasses I am needing recently.

 I am human. I will likely hurt my children. My mother was human. Even the wounds, perhaps ESPECIALLY the wounds I carry glorify my Heavenly Father.

Can I trust Him with my own humanness? Will I let go of the idol of Perfectionism? Will I live full out and acknowledge my ability to hurt or harm my children while giving everything I have to the task?

I will relish every moment of this journey and run fast to the one I have harmed to ask for forgiveness. And sit quietly and enjoy the one who is talking. And give myself space to be able to love from an overflowing heart. 

Today I thank God for my story. I give the stories of my children over to the Story Teller and admit that He knows better than I. 

mamas offer refuge

Photo of my high school graduation. I'm on the left, Mama in the middle. My sister Jere is on the right.

Mama. What a beautiful word. Nurture. Encourage. Invest. 

When I was little, my Mama would comfort me by letting me crawl under her arm and lie down beside her. She would say, “Come and get under my wing.” My sisters and I would run in after a bad dream or a disappointment at school and find refuge under her “wing.”

Psalm 91:4 says “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge.” Mama may not have known it at the time, but she was teaching me about the faithfulness and protection of God.

Beginning with the womb, mothers offer refuge. A safe place. A place to be yourself. A place to learn who you are.

The story goes that my mom got her name, Joy, because of the overflowing gratitude her parents felt at the time of her birth. Mom’s older sister had died as an infant from a heart defect. The grief left my grandparents empty in heart and arms. What else could they name their next baby girl but JOY?

My mother personifies the word.

She lives with an incomparable zest for life. When she is in a room, not one inch of space is left untouched. Her quick wit and creativity splash the space with JOY. She likes to laugh and her laugh is as infectious as it is healing. I am thankful for that laughter as it was a frequent balm during my childhood.

Perhaps the most admirable quality in my mother is her courage. She faced overwhelming hardship in the deterioration of her marriage when I was 12 years old. She did not hide her hurt but her courage shone as she grieved and picked up pieces and built something beautiful. With her courage, she breathed something into me.

From my mother, I learned to value intelligence, a good book and a beautifully decorated table. She taught me to play tennis, to water ski, to snow ski and to stand up for what is right. I admire her ability to find adventure in picking a sunflower on the side of the road or to be astonished by some small bit of nature. I inherited from her a love of oceans, an eye for beauty, and compassion for the downtrodden.

In one week, I will board a plane and travel to a country I have dreamt of visiting most of my life. Italy. Mama will come and care for my children. They will be better for having spent a week with their grandmother so aptly named JOY. And so her investment continues. 

Leave a comment on how your mother invested in you.