Bumper Cars

Do you remember that sudden jolt?  The giggles that build up inside of you as you took to the wheel of your very own “car”.  We went to Winter Wonderland at Busch Gardens this past week with the kids.  Max says his favorite part was driving the Bumper Cars.  He was really good at it.  First he took off with his Dad.  Then it was my turn to press the gas.  Max’s legs weren’t quite long enough to push the pedal to the metal…but boy, can that kid navigate his way around a Bumper Car Rink.  It made me giggle.

See, right now we are going through a “phase”.  Max is a daddy’s boy.  He wrinkles his nose up at me when I come in for a kiss.  When I read stories with a changed voice (the way he used to like when I would bring the characters in his books to life) he rolls his eyes, and he winces when he thinks I have embarrassed him…it seems that I make him wince more often than not.  I’m ok with this.  Max is a boy.  I am his mom. 

But…on Tuesday in the Bumper Car rink, he didn’t wince or wrinkle his nose.  We were a team.  We cirlced the rink bumping, crashing, and giggling.  Time stood still.  For a brief moment I (too) was a kid.  A six year old.  I wanted to stay there, as a little girl.  Max wants to be bigger. 

Max is growing up faster than I care to consider.  But, as he grows bigger, I feel like I grow wiser.  I am starting to have a fonder appreciation for my  parents.  See, they are in heaven.  I won’t get to see them for a while.  In the meantime, I am able to reflect on how I crinkled my nose or rolled my eyes.  They always forgave me.  They left too soon.  I miss them.   They left me very wealthy.  Not wealth in terms of worldy possessions or a high-interest bank account.  They gave me love.  Often times I don’t remember that.  We weren’t the Cleavers by any means.  We struggled; a lot.  We fought; a lot.  We loved; a lot.  We were a team.  We took on life the only way we knew how.  Crashing and bumping and circling the rink.  Sometimes I pushed the gas and they navigated, other times I navigated.  More often than not, we bumped and crashed.   I am grateful for those moments.   Those moments have helped me and directed my life in precious ways.  Those moments have led me to God.   I serve a reedemptive God.  A God of forgiveness.  A God of second chances. 

So, as I celebrate Christmas with my children, and my husband, I will remember.  I will remember that although my childhood was more like a spin around the Bumper Car rink; than a whirl on a Merry-Go ‘Round.  I will be thankful.  I will be forgiving.  I will be humbled.  I will praise my God who created my parents.   I will remember all they did for me, while I winced and cringed and rolled my eyes.  I will remember how they loved me…the way I love Max (rolled eyes and all.)  And as he grows bigger in stature and in mind,  I will do my best to be forgiving.  I will do my best to offer second chances.  I will do my best not to embarrass him (but I know I will).   So, my favorite part of the trip to Busch Gardens; isn’t it obvious?  The Bumper Cars. Time stopped.  It stood still long enough for Max to be a mommy’s boy!

Six years old!

Today’s the day…well six years ago today, I became a mom!   A mom to an amazing little boy.  A little boy whose eyes took my breath away the moment I looked into them.  I became Max’s mom.  My world changed forever!

Today I looked into those same blue eyes.  Those eyes that see the world from a height of 44 inches.  Those eyes that twinkle and sparkle at the mention of cake and basketball.  Those eyes that light up when I tell him the story of the day he was born.  A day,  six years ago that honestly, feels like today.   I looked into the eyes and saw the future, not like a crystal ball, but the future of a generation in love with God.   See, this morning Maxwell thanked God for his birthday, for the snow that fell on the “last day of being five”, for his mom and dad and for his little sister.  He thanks God a lot.  He is a friend of God.  He goes to God in good and bad times.  He believes that God is always listening…He is.  If I could wish one wish as Max blows out the candle on his 6th birthday cake, I would wish (and pray), that Max always knows that God is listening!    What a blessing…to be six and have a friend in God. 

So…Happiest of days to the littlest man in my life…the one who will continue; I am certain, to take my breath away.   Who will take the world by storm.  The little man who will always be the (first) reason I became a mom!  What a blessing!

Running Truth

Prayer Closet.  Do you have one?   I do.   Well, it’s less of a closet and more of a vast open space peppered with homes, schools, trees and people.  See, I am a runner.  I run for enjoyment.  I’ll never win a race.  My son encourages me to run faster, but I tell him every car on a train is important, and I am happy being the caboose or the coalcar or whatever follows the engine.  I’m not the leading type.  Well, at least I don’t think so.

So…a year or so ago a friend said she would pray for me while she was in her “prayer closet”…the shower, really.  So I got to thinking…”Where am I by myself, with no distractions? “Where do God and I talk?”.  On the road.  The open road.  I’m not fast, but I am dedicated, and I am a problem solver (or rather the recepient of a great deal of problem solving techniques from my God), when I am on the wide open road. 

I started running when I was seven.  With my dad.  My sweet, sweet, dad.  The man I measure all other men against.  (Luckily for my husband he measures up!).  I started running and never really looked back.  It wasn’t until recently that I realized the spiritual impact of running.   I have to trust God.  I have to trust him for my safety, my physical and mental well-being, and trust that He will guide me home.

Without running I am painfully aware of how my body is aging, how my mental health is fragile.  I am addicted.  I am less addicted to my feet hitting the ground as I am the time I spend with my God.  See…He meets me there.  He is always there.  He never turns His back.  But I do.  I month or so ago I ran a race.  A fun race, with a new friend.  I did great.  I ran the best race I had in long time.  I injured myself.  I was unable to walk for more than just a few days.  I was injured.  Not only was my body injured, my pride was injured, and my spritual life was injured.  Why?  Why didn’t I just seek God in another prayer closet?  I forgot how.  So for more than a month, I have been running away from my God.  And man, does it show.  I am sad and skeptical.  I am constantly dissatisfied with my life, my family and all the blessings my God has given me.  But, He still remains.  He met me again this past weekend. He reminded me that without Him, I am powerless over the mean-ness of my human spirit.  I was becoming someone noone wanted to be around. 

Since my injury I have run a few times.  But, without God.  I didn’t want to talk.  I wanted to wallow in my fallen, human condition.  I wanted to feel sorry for myself.   I wanted the world to come to my rescue.  But, that’s the thing.  The world will never come to my rescue.   Only the Lord will come to my rescue.  Then we set up the nativity. 

See…a baby was born, just a little over 2000 years ago.  A baby king.  A baby who would deliver his own mother from her fallen human nature.  Then it dawned on me.  I need this baby.  I need this baby as much or more than I need breath in my lungs.  Well…this is a humbling place to be.   My attitude changed.  It was as though my God breathed new life into my lifeless, hopeless body.  I was renewed.   I asked God for forgiveness. I asked my family for forgiveness…they all forgave me and we moved on. 

I laced up my shoes yesterday, and that friend, the one who prayed for me in her prayer closet (her shower)…she needed me to pray for her in my prayer closet.  So I did.  I headed out in freezing cold weather, warmed by the prospect of talking to my God.  We talked for a long time.  I lifted my friend and her hurt to Him.  You know what?  When I got home, she was done crying.  Her heart was feeling whole again.  She had been blessed by my prayers with my God in my prayer closet.

So, I run.  I run in truth.  I run with my God.

Sweet Liberation

I did it!  I broke up with facebook.  I took the plunge to become a social reject; a misfit; unpopular; independent!  What a feeling.  I was starting to feel tied to status updates and “likes” and pictures of people  I don’t even know.  Or people I do know and really could careless about their pictures.  Spending more time with my facebook family then my kids…my real family.  My reason for family.  This isn’t to say that I was neglecting my children or responsibilities of motherhood, but, I found myself saying “I’ll be there in a minute!” and I never got to them in “a minute”.  No, I was glued to the latest and greatest things some other mother’s child was doing.  Poof!  The minutes past.  My children found other activities that didn’t need my attention.   That makes for a really yucky feeling in my stomach.  So I quit.  I just quit.  I gave my friends 24 hours notice, customary notice for most meetings, appointments, and the like.  I figured whoever I would need in my life would surface.  And do you know out of 268 friends, only 12 friends I added to my address book.  Will I miss it?  Sure.  For a moment after I deleted I felt anxious…but not anxious like I did the weeks leading up to my decision.  See, I run on emotions.  I am one who seeks approval.  Often times in the wrong sources.  I knew I was supposed to be seeking someone’s approval…but who?  Certainly not from the girl I sat behind in ninth grade english…didn’t need it then, why do I need it now?  No, the approval I was seeking has nothing to do with facebook.  The approval I seek has been seeking me!  Yes, I was being sought after…not for my cute kiddie pics or my brilliant posts, but rather for my uniquely fallen self.  Who am I am talking about?  Well…God.  Yea…His approval.  Really the only approval that counts.  See a few years ago I started to feel the pressure to stay on fb…longing for what I had lost.  I am sure that’s common.  But this longing troubled me…troubled my family and most of all troubled my God.  The God who created me in His image.  I should have known then to abort my mission on fb…but, like most aspects of my life, I am “will powerless”.  Yes, I have very little selfcontrol.  I like to do what feels good…or in some instances what doesn’t feel good, I guess to satisfy my dark side.  The side that leaves me feeling unworthy or insecure.  I seek approval.

So…here I sit.  With my God, my thoughts and my fresh new blog.  Will it work…will I draw in the masses?  Will I be the next internet mavine?  NO…probably not.  But, I may reach someone…I may save a life…I may offer a little courage to those who are powerless over their social network.  I am going to spend my time with God, the time I spent on facebook.  And if that means gazing on His face while I watch my children play…without them waiting that long long minute, then my break up with fb has been a success.  So far, I feel great!  Those who I love know I love them and those who I just passed by, much like I did in the halls of my highschool or in the greens of my university…we will meet again, or not.  And I am just fine with that!