My little has recently turned two. And he is very two. He gets upset easily, and when he does, he reaches his arms up for me. I’m not quite sure how picking him up fixes anything, but it’s what he wants.

This got me thinking. As an adult, it’s probably been years since we held our arms up for someone to lift us up. We’ve probably spent a few decades directly connected to the ground in some way. Just that concept feels heavy to me. Gravity is completely having its way with us.

There’s not much we can do about the physical connection to the ground, but what about emotionally? Mentally? Spiritually?

What if, instead of sinking into our problems, we held our arms up to God? What if we really let go of the situation and allowed our Heavenly Father to lift us away from our troubles?  Instead of worrying and stressing and pouting and doing all the things that bring us down and keep us down, let’s go to scripture, music, and prayer. Let’s reach our arms up and be lifted. I bet it would feel much lighter.

I’ve been thinking about this one for a while. It’s a challenge for me as much as you!

We are a part of a culture that really likes to know a lot about self. We know the color of our aura, our Disney princess spirit, our personality types (on all the different scales), the positives and negatives of our astrological sign, and much much more. And we like to share it all. We want everyone else to know exactly who we are and how we think.

What if this year we kept the same mentality, but changed the subject? What if we searched and read, and took a great interest in finding out who God is? What if we scrolled through His word multiple times everyday, like our newsfeed. What if we made notes in the margins and highlighted parts we “liked”? What if we shared as much about our new knowledge of God as we do about ourselves?

Lets try it and see.

I’ve been having some of those days lately. The days when nothing goes right, no one listens, the crumbs multiply by the second, the car breaks down on the interstate, the dog fakes sick just long enough for a $100 vet trip with three kids then miraculously recovers- you know, those days. And let me tell you, I struggle on those days. I try to remind myself to be positive, but it doesn’t always work. I try reminding myself of Bible passages, but that usually doesn’t go well.

Bible: count your blessings

Me: I don’t want to count anything- butts I’ve wiped today, number of times I asked them to pick up the same toys, number of snacks they’ve had since I started cooking dinner- nothing. No counting.

Bible: If God clothes the flowers so beautifully, won’t he also clothe you?

Me: yeah, but He didn’t say who would wash all these clothes.

Bible: If God feeds the birds of the air, won’t He feed you?

Me: is He sending someone to cook?!

Bible: God will fight for you, if you will just be still.

Me: If I’m still, these three tiny human tornadoes will tear down my house.

Then I stop and thank God for my sense of humor so that I can laugh at it all (mostly to not cry), and I keep going.

I am reminded that God is my Heavenly Father, and just like I’m raising three Tasmanian devils, He’s still raising me. They might not always like their chores,and I might not always like mine. But, just like the clean up is worth the play to them, so the bad days are worth the good for me.

So when my bunch makes me use the batman voice to get their attention, I try to remember the sweet little voice that said a “thank you for my Jesus” prayer on the way to school that morning. I try to remember that just as work is a good tool to teach my children, so it is a good tool to teach me. And just as my goal is to grow my tiny men into good adults, so is God’s goal to grow me into a better person each day. We are all children of God. Always growing.

Things are crazy these days, y’all. It seems like everyone has an opinion and feels like it need to be shared. This can be difficult, because, inevitably, everyone’s opinion is going to offend someone. And then that someone has an opinion, and so it goes…

Like all the everyones, I feel a certain way about events and the state of the world. However, I’m trying to listen more than speak. And this is what I hear.

Jesus told us to be the light in the world, not just another opinion. Lights shine. They illuminate. They make things clear.

And I believe Jesus told us how to turn this light on. He told us to love Him and love others. He didn’t tell us to agree with them. He didn’t tell us to offend them. He didn’t tell us change their world view on every little matter. He told us to love them. See, He knew that telling and offending and convincing them would not always go well. He knew that wouldn’t bring them to Him. But loving them, that will.

And Jesus said to love everyone. Not everyone that looks like us, or thinks like us, or makes us comfortable. He said everyone. He wants everyone to find Him. All the everyones.

When you look at the command, and see it and all its simplicity, the path is simple. We are to be bright.

On the evening of my oldest son’s sixth birthday, I find myself thinking about that age, and the past six years. He is so full of questions, as was I at his age. I can remember questioning everything and driving my parents crazy. I can also remember having many questions for God. I was very unhappy that I had to wait and see what life had in store for me. I wanted to know what I would grow up to be, who I would marry, where I would live, and everything else. I didn’t think it was fair to have to wait to know.

This process didn’t really end for me as I got older. I still had the same questions in high school and even college. I didn’t understand why God couldn’t just give me a little peek at what my life would be.

Now, as I look back, I am grateful. I know now that God knew exactly what He was doing. He knows what we can handle and what we can’t, and what we need to wait to know.

If someone told me six years ago that today I would have not one, but three sons, I would have been terribly overwhelmed. My poor first time mommy mind would not have been able to comprehend that.

If I knew when the year started which love ones would pass on before the year was done, I would be completely devasted.

If I knew when I woke up each morning what catastrophes and injuries I would have to take care of (or that I would spend three hours at urgent care, or clean up vomit, or find a way to scrape glow in the dark goo out of my car) I might just stay in bed.

I find myself continually grateful that, in my not knowing, I took the path I did. I found my way to where God always wanted me, holding on to Him and leaning on His grace each day.

I do that now more than ever. I wake up and pray that God will give me the love and patience to handle it all. My son and I pray that on the way to school each morning. I hope that will start to help him understand that the answers will come, just not as fast as the questions. And that’s ok. It’s just fine to wait and find out.

I started thinking today about parenting and being a child of God. I feel like I’m in three very different stages of parenting with my three right now, so I can only imagine how God feels as a “parent” to all us children. I also started thinking about the good and bad of each phase and how it also relates. Here goes…

1. My oldest is all of a sudden big enough to do everything, and I mean everything, on his own. At least, he thinks this. He wants no help from anyone, and he makes lots of mistakes and gets incredibly frustrated.

I started wondering how often I do this to God. How often do I think that I can do it on my own with no help, no prayers, no scripture to guide me? How often do I go the way I want, and then get mad and frustrated when it dead ends?

2. My middle is stuck in the middle, literally. He wants to do his own thing and make his own decisions, but he knows he can’t. So, his solution is to yell at me. A lot. He wants to put on his shoes, fumbles the socks, and then yells at me. I wasn’t even involved!

I feel like I do this a lot in my relationship with God. I yell a lot. This is not the way I wanted it to work out! This is not easy! This isn’t making me happy! But I never asked God for help, even though I knew I was over my head. I just started and then yelled. No petition for help and no follow through from my side.

3. My little is still very little. And he’s needy. He needs help reaching things, eating, dressing, bathing, being changed, everything! He asks, in his own ways, for help. It’s pretty constant, but I don’t mind because I know he can’t do it for himself. He’s grateful for the help, with hugs and high fives. He knows he needs me, and he loves me for it.

Even though being needy is usually considered a negative thing, I think this is what God wants from us. He wants us to turn to him constantly. He wants us to be grateful. He wants us to love Him and feel His love. He wants us to be needy.

Its been a few weeks since I’ve posted. It’s been a few busy, hot, tiring weeks. During that time, I’ve felt pushed and pulled and smooshed by this whole mom job. This has all got me thinking a lot about the line, “You are the potter, I am the clay.”

I don’t know if you’ve ever made pottery or seen the process, but I have. I can’t see how this process is comfortable at all for the clay. In fact, it looks quite painful. First the clay is kneaded and pressed. And that’s just to get started. Then, it all depends on what the clay is meant to be. If it’s to become a flat piece, it’s rolled through a press to remove any air bubbles. This can be needed many time to get it smooth and bubble-free. If it’s meant to be a rounded piece, thrown on a wheel, it’s kneaded more and then pressed and pushed and smooshed into place as the wheel turns at quite a fast speed.

I’m feeling the process right now as a mom. I’m having the doubts and anxieties about my abilities and the future pressed out of me over and over again. I’m feeling my selfish tendencies and desires smooshed out as life whirls at a nauseating  speed. I’m mourning the rough corners of my self that are being cut away.

I’m not going to lie, it’s not always comfortable. I want to resist. But do you know what happens to tough clay? It’s run back through a mill and then water is added. It’s kneaded over and over until the water is absorbed and the clay becomes soft. And in the same way, it gets harder for me until I soften and absorb God’s direction for me.

The line “You are the potter, I am the clay” is a nice thought, but a tough process to live. I just have to hope that whatever I am being shaped for is extremely useful and quite beautiful too.

I dread the news these days, and my newsfeed too. If it’s not another tragedy or act of violence, it’s someone’s personal struggles staring me in the face. There are mass shooting and horrific accidents. There are sick children and judgements. All the judgements. Everyone that can do better than those suffering. It’s all so heartbreaking.

And I’m sure I’m not the only one, but I want to hide it all from my children.- I never want to shelter them. If I do, they’ll be in complete shock when they stumble into the real world one day.- I do, however, want to shield them. I want to protect their innocence as long as I can and I want to save myself the heartache. The heartache I know will come when I look in their eyes and see understanding of something painful. I don’t want to tell them about evil and violence. I don’t want to explain mortality and loss. I want them to stay pure and feel safe for as long as they can.

So what do I do? How do I let them see the real world and hold onto hope at the same time? How do I protect their innocence while preparing them for life?

I love. I use love as a verb and not just a noun. I show them how grace and understanding far outweigh judgement and blame. I show them this concept in my daily interactions with them and everyone else. I explain to them that some people don’t know how to process pain, and sometimes do bad things. Then I love. I show them how to hurt without hurting others. I teach them about compassion. I give them the opportunity to give and help others instead of only looking on. I love. I try my best to show them how to comprehend loss. I find others who share my outlook to help my children understand the world is full of good and good people. I love.

Will this end all the world’s troubles? No. It won’t bring an end to violence or blame or suffering. But, hopefully, it will bring a few more people into the world that know how to love. People that know love is a verb and we must love each other everyday.

Like many moms I know, I am not good at taking care of me. I can take care of as many other people as necessary, but not myself. I can monitor my kiddos nutrition, water intake, activity, screen time, and influences. Just not my own.

Although this may seem like an aspect of selflessness and an admirable quality. I’m slowly learning, it’s not. God tells me that my body is a temple. A church. A home for His spirit. And last I checked, God’s spirit doesn’t just lay around and nap all day. No. It gives, and loves, and teaches, and nurtures. It works hard. How am I to be a vessel, a home, for all these works if I’m run down and out of everything? How am I to do God’s work with no resources?

I’ve recently started putting more time and energy into taking care of me. I’m surprised each day to find that I can do more and accomplish things I couldn’t before. I’m encouraged by how much my family seems to notice the difference when I’m well fed and well rested, hydrated and energized. I’m more patient and understanding. I’m happier and less stressed. I’m finally seeing that taking care of me is not an act of selfishness, but an act of working harder to further God’s plan for me.

I hope, if you have as much trouble as I do taking care of yourself, that this will encourage you to try. I don’t succeed everyday, and neither will you. But if we’re do be a temple, we have to try to keep it up.