Trying to Trust

Posted on May 14, 2013 by Margaret

Welcoming a new baby is an immense blessing, a gift from God unmatched by any other. Along with every newborn, however, comes a list of responsibilities that can scare even the most well-prepared woman. The buck stops at mommy, and it’s her job to make sure baby grows and thrives. But what about mommy?

Babies have erratic sleep patterns, and a cat-napping little one translates to mama-exhaustion. Worst of all is the middle-of-the-night, wide-awake baby who thinks it’s playtime. Although mothers usually thrill to a baby’s giggles and grins, during the night it’s cause for despair.

Last night, 6 month old Emerald did the playtime-at-night thing… for hours. When I came downstairs this morning and saw rumpled blankets on the living room floor, I knew it’d been a night of action with Birgitta eeking out bits of sleep in the midst of Emerald’s playground…. surely a mothering low point.

New moms, though, aren’t the only ones who battle sleeplessness. Sometimes when Birgitta is “doing a night” downstairs, I’m upstairs doing one, too, wasting precious zzzz’s tending to my worries.

Of course the struggle is all in my head but is no less real than what’s happening downstairs. Yesterday, for example, while climbing a small dune, I stepped over something frightening: a long, winding snake track in the soft sand. Fearful of snakes, I froze, wondering if the track-maker was nearby. My eyes followed its trail till it disappeared into the woods, and from the markings, I could tell it was a big one.

Then last night, as I put my head on the pillow, I asked God to spare me from snake nightmares. He did, but I forgot to also mention stray thoughts. About 3:30 am I was awake and wondering:

What would make a snake cross an exposed sand dune like that?
Did it come out of a hole close-by?
Were there others lurking about, maybe a nest of wriggling babies?
Might snakes be in the woods outside my house?
Could a snake get into my house? Could it climb the steps?
Would a snake try to bite me?
Would it be something I could ever forget?

Birgitta’s sleep deprivation wasn’t her fault. Mine was.

As a Christian with an invitation to access Christ’s power, why did I lie awake and agonize as I had? Didn’t I trust God to take care of me? Haven’t I memorized Scriptures about pushing back fear? And the most poignant question, don’t I believe God would help me cope if I had a snake-encounter? [shudder]

In the light of day, the Lord let me know the purpose of last night’s misery: he’s working on my trust issues. Although it doesn’t feel very good to be tested, the Bible tells me he’s going to do it again anyway, probably in the near future. I’m only hoping it won’t have to do with snakes, but….

* * * * * *

All things considered, maybe Birgitta has the better night-time gig.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him.” (Romans 15:13)

Maximizing Minimums

Posted on May 14, 2013 by Margaret

In yesterday’s blog we talked about taking advantage of teachable moments that pop up in everyday life, things like being given too much change at a store or not being charged for everything we bought. Rather than look at these moments as irritating inconveniences, wisdom tells us to view them as golden opportunities.

Mary and I, now in our late sixties, look back at our active mothering years and see lots of things we’d do differently if we could begin again. One of them would be to maximize the minimums, in other words, use small moments to teach big concepts.

This would include the obvious, like the extra change situation, but also less apparent chances to teach youngsters. Mary said, “One thing I wish is that I’d involved my kids more in giving to others.”

I reminded her she’d done a great deal, taking meals to people in crisis, driving Meals on Wheels for a hospital, tutoring children after school. She stopped me, though, and said, “But I didn’t usually let my kids help me. It was much easier to get it done without them.” We agreed these were still good deeds, but both of us had forfeited teachable moments.

As we talked, though, we did come up with two times when we did teach our young children through everyday circumstances:

Mary and her carload of children drove the same route to school for years, always passing an elderly crossing guard who daily helped young children cross the street (to a different school than Mary’s children attended). She remarked to her kids about this man’s faithfulness to his task, rain or shine, and wondered how they might show admiration for this stranger. Her children decided, during a very cold winter, to bring a thermos of hot chocolate to him and a thank you for a job well done. Whether or not the old man appreciated it, Mary’s children learned to consider the effort of someone else and express thanks for it.

2. In driving my own carpool daily (to a different school), the children and I always passed an older woman bowed over with extreme osteoporosis. Gripping a walker, she inched along a particular stretch of sidewalk next to a middle-aged man, no doubt her son, painfully exercising at the same time every day. We looked for her as we came down the street, and my children wondered what we might do to encourage her. They decided to buy her a pair of warm winter gloves and deliver them with an original poem of admiration. On the day we stopped our van for them to jump out and approach her, I knew we’d accomplished something worthwhile in my kids.

Surely countless other examples could serve as ways to maximize teachable moments for children, whether our own or someone else’s. Jesus instructed us to be of practical help to others, not just for their benefit but for ours, too. He knew that would make everybody happy.

“How joyful are those who fear the Lord…. They share freely and give generously to those in need.” (Psalm 112:1,9)

Count the Cost

Posted on May 12, 2013 by Margaret

Although I don’t usually scrutinize my grocery receipts, this weekend after arriving home with my bags I did, because the total seemed so low. That’s when I realized the check-out girl hadn’t charged me for a small rose plant I’d bought as a Mother’s Day gift.

Since I was on a tight schedule and the store was a 30 minute round trip from home, I didn’t have time to go back. And if I had, two things might have happened, making me wish I hadn’t. (1) The cashier might have gotten in trouble, and (2) the store manager might have said, “Don’t worry about it.”

So I did nothing.

The next day I explained it all to Mary, complaining about the inconvenience of having to go back to the store since I knew the right thing to do was pay what I owed. “You know,” she said, “it’s funny how that seems inconvenient now, but when I had kids living at home, I used to literally pray for opportunities just like that one. It was the perfect chance to teach something important without saying a word.”

She was right. Children watch us closely, “catching” the values we live out in front of them. Maybe, I thought, if I corrected the payment problem of the rose plant, someone I didn’t even know might “be watching.”

The day after my rose non-purchase, I had another list of errands, this one in the opposite direction. Last on my list was to head back to the rose store to settle up. When I finally got there, I walked over to the display of rose plants from which I’d “bought” the first one the day before. Pondering the best way to make things right, I decided to buy a second plant and let the checker scan it twice rather than go through the manager, causing trouble for the young girl who’d forgotten to charge me.

That girl wasn’t on duty, so I chose a young boy cashier and briefly explained that I wanted to pay for the plant I’d gotten for free the day before. “So,” I said, “why don’t you just scan this one twice,” I said, handing him the plant.

“Really?” he said, looking me in the eye. He picked up the plant, waved it over the scanner, then held it in the air, ready to do it again. Looking back at me he said, “You sure?”

“Yes,” I said, “because if I didn’t do it, I wouldn’t sleep tonight, you know?”

“I suppose,” he said, swiping it a second time.

“And if I let myself get away with it this time, it would be easy to do it again some other time.”

“Maybe,” he said, slowly bagging the plant, not entirely convinced.

But as I turned to go, he said, “Hey… I appreciate what you just did.”

When I got in the car, I looked at the receipt. Amazingly, this one seemed low, too. Actually it was. Between yesterday and today, the roses had been marked down to half price, so I ended up with two…. for the price of one.