Leaving a Legacy of Healing

25 Saturday Jan 2014

Posted by ardisanelson in challenges of motherhood, emotional needs, forgiving mom, generational patterns, God's healing love, leaving a legacy, Parenting, the healing journey

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Courage to be honest, Emotional and spiritual healing, Finding our identity, Forgiveness, Healing love, life and death, Modeling the faith, Parenting

Lately I’ve been struck with reminders of the importance of legacy and purpose in our lives—most recently while attending a memorial service for someone I knew at church who died suddenly before Christmas. She was a vibrant part of our church community, serving in many capacities, but most notably as Lady Jellybean, a beloved clown in the children’s ministry. Her passing was a great loss to all who knew her.

This got me to thinking more about the legacy that I’m leaving. What will people say about me after I’m gone? How will my family remember me? I’m the first to admit that I don’t have it all together, that I am at times overwhelmed by all the irons I have in the fire, and even that I’ve fallen short of my kids’ or my husband’s expectations.

I came into marriage over thirty years ago carrying a lot of baggage from a turbulent and empty childhood. I didn’t have the kind of parents who modeled a godly marriage or who poured into my siblings and me in ways that bonded us on an emotional level. Quite the contrary, we didn’t know anything about emotional bonding.

It wasn’t until much later in life, when I re-dedicated my life to Christ, and started attending Bible studies, spiritual growth classes, and Celebrate Recovery, that I realized the damage I was causing in my own family and in myself.

As I started to understand things about myself, learned what I hadn’t received emotionally (or have modeled to me), I began to make changes in my parenting and my relationship with my husband—though both are still far from perfect. The point is, we can make changes in our lives that will affect the legacy we leave behind.

Case in point: although my mother was mentally ill all her life, I realized in her passing three years ago that she didn’t leave me a legacy of mental illness as I had feared she would. She left me a great legacy of faith by modeling that to me. I didn’t appreciate it when I was young, but see it now as a vibrant part of who I am.

Before my father passed away the following year, there was a great deal of healing between us as well. Those last few months gave both of us peace in his passing. Those are the memories that stand out to me now as I think of what he gave me. I attribute that to God’s work in me and my ability to forgive both of my parents early on in my recovery and healing process.

I am breaking the generational curse of dysfunction by modeling biblical principles with my sons. I wish I had known then—when my kids were young—what I know now. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if they enter into the therapeutic process because of things I said or did out of my parenting and biblical ignorance.

My hope in all of this is that, when I’m dead and gone, my sons will remember that I had a heart for Jesus and that He became the foundation of my life. And when they decide to enter into the healing process, I hope and pray that they will embrace it with grace for themselves and their imperfect parents, along with embracing their Abba Father, who is the Healer of all wounds.

“Lord my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me.” Psalm 30:2, NIV

~ Ardis A. Nelson

What? You Can’t Stop Crying

08 Wednesday Jan 2014

Posted by arcecil in challenges of motherhood, confessing our need, emotional needs, encouraging each other, God's healing love, grief and loss, letting go of anger, reach out and touch, the healing journey, when tragedy hits

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a heart filled with love and hope, Emotional and spiritual healing, life stages, life's upward path, Mothering, Women's Issues

WHAT? YOU CAN’T STOP CRYING

What? You can’t stop crying.
I hear you. Been there.
You say you left your grocery cart in frozen foods.
You’re telling me it was loaded with food
and every kind of whatnot
from all the other aisles,
And then you hightailed it to your car.
There you hid behind sunglasses and drove home.
Did you remember to wipe your fingerprints
off the handle of the loaded, abandoned cart
in frozen foods?
Just kidding.

You complain you couldn’t sleep because your slumber
was interrupted by the need to blow your nose.
David of the Old Testament cried on his bed.
See, we are in good company.

Let’s look at the list of life’s events that can trigger
such an avalanche of emotion.
Just check the one that fits, or mark “Other”
at the bottom.

All right, here we go.
You poured your life into the children.
All the children left home.
The empty nest doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would.

You lost your job.
You’re too old to be hired.
You’re not sure whether this reinventing is right for you.

You moved your mother into a nursing home.
You tried to manage Mom at home.
You moved your mother back into the home.

There is an injustice in your life.
You try to think of ways to address it.
Every idea leads to a dead end.
You choose to remain silent.

You have just received a bad diagnosis.
Many well-intentioned people are offering suggestions.

Someone who is dear to you is very ill.
That loved one says, “Just sit with me.”

An important person in your life passes away.

Other.

Listen, if you weren’t crying, I’d be worried about you.
I sympathize with you.
God empathizes with you.
That’s the reason He included people
like Joseph, David, Job, and Paul in His Book.
Think about them; think about the Lord; and think about me.
And, in the near future,
you’ll be able to leave your empty cart in the corral,
go home, store the perishables in the refrigerator,
and then sit on the sofa and have a good cry.
Now, that will be progress. That will be hope.

~ A.R. (Alice) Cecil

Editor’s note: This poem is taken from the book, IN THAT PLACE CALLED DAY: Poems and Reflections That Witness God’s Love.

A Season for Everything

04 Saturday Jan 2014

Posted by Catherine Lawton in challenges of motherhood, leaving a legacy, the healing journey

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a heart filled with love and hope, Christmas, Family traditions, future hope, Holidays

The presents are gone but the tree still stands

This is the Saturday after New Years—the weather has turned cold, an Arctic blast has hit, and snow is falling outside. Inside I’m puttering, trying to catch up from the holidays, tending to various tasks. But I still haven’t taken down the Christmas tree and put away all the decorations. I guess there’s no rush. Instead, as I sort through old desk calendars, I come upon an diary that I kept when my children were very young. Reading through it consumes part of my day.

What a gift I gave to myself, and hopefully to my children someday, when I took time in those busy years—constantly on the run as a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, church worker—to record many of our family activities and some my thoughts.

On this same day 30 years ago—Saturday after New Years—this entry appears in my little diary:

“I took down the Christmas tree and all the decorations—organized them in boxes. Cleaned the house.

“Christmas is over for another year. I love the bright things in the house. But there is a season for everything. Now is the season to internalize the brightness, letting it motivate me to action. For the same Jesus whose coming we have celebrated, will come again! Then we’ll have a celebration that will make our Christmas festivities seem very dim in comparison.”

Regaining perspective, letting my soul be renewed, that is what this kind of day is all about.

And like the toy train chugging around the Christmas tree, the cycles and seasons of life continue.

~Catherine Lawton

Hope Realized

23 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by arcecil in challenges of motherhood, emotional needs, encouraging each other, expectations, God's healing love, Gratitude, the healing journey

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Nativity (Photo credit: maury.mccown)

THE BLESSING COMES BACK — a poem

Naively, I thought that the innocent babe of Bethlehem
would always be mine to hold.
The child who ran to me with an injured knee
was completely content to receive my comfort.
I thought that I had all the answers.
Now I cling to that small window of time,
when I was able to convey a mother’s
love, values, and beliefs.

When the door of His childhood closed,
He seemed to be a million miles away.
I felt He was beyond my reach.
He spent His days in reflective silence.

What is He intently preparing to do? I pondered.
Who is this person who stands before me?
I—who bore Him, fed Him, trained Him—
shouldn’t I have some say?

But here He was in front of me, taller than me.
His confidence and focus made me wonder:
Other than bringing Him into the world
and helping Him grow physically,
what role did I play?

The circumstances of His life moved Him many miles away.
I could no longer embrace Him.
I thought about Him every day.
Where was His life taking Him?
Did He realize that the distance between us
would determine our destinies?
Did He, like me, ever reminisce about the good old days
when we lived in sweet simplicity?

Time passed, and I spied Him through the crowd
in the marketplace with His disciples.
He was always glad to reunite with me;
He always hugged me hard.

Then, I witnessed the reason for His life . . .

As I looked up at Him on the cross,
I understood everything was pointing
to that horrible day.

After three hours, He said, “It is finished,”
And my heart broke within me.
And my soul, like the tabernacle curtain, tore in two.*

. . .

Once again, He stands before me.
He cannot hide the nail-punctured wounds.
His thoughts are laid out like building blocks
of all that is noble, true, and pure.
His heart pours out with rivers of love.

I thank God for our small window of time together.
I am blessed beyond measure to be His mother.

*Matthew 27:51

~ A.R. (Alice) Cecil

Editor’s Note: This poem, written from the viewpoint of Mary, the mother of Jesus, is taken from Alice’s just-released book of poetry, In That Place Called Day: Poems and Reflections That Witness God’s Love.

A Grief That Can’t be Spoken

02 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by ardisanelson in challenges of motherhood, God's healing love, grief and loss, the healing journey, when tragedy hits

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future hope, Grief Loss and Bereavement, Healing love, John F Kennedy, life and death

Rose Kennedy, holding Joe Jr., presumably prior to 1921. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

President John F. Kennedy and his mother, Rose (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When my birthday rolled around this year on November 22, I was reminded again of the significance of that day in history. It was on my fourth birthday in 1963 that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated, and I remember it well.

I hadn’t heard the word “assassinate” before that day. The sorrow that gripped my family also gripped the nation. I didn’t like it. I wanted it to go away. But every day the television was awash in news stories as the nation prepared to bury our president.

Four days in history. Four days in mourning. Four days that shook our nation and the world, now commemorated 50 years ago.

My birthday link to the Kennedys left me with a fascination for this public family. I collected books and commemorative magazines over the years. The grief of the nation and the grief of the Kennedy family didn’t end with JFK’s death. Less than five years later we witnessed another horrific Kennedy assassination when Bobby Kennedy, JFK’s brother, was killed. Our nation grieved with the passing of Jackie Kennedy Onassis, JFK’s widow, in 1994. Then in 1999, the unthinkable happened when JFK, Jr. died in a tragic plane crash over the Atlantic. More sorrow. More grief.

There’s a song in Les Miserable called “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” that Marius, the sole survivor of the student revolt, sings after the heart-breaking massacre of all his friends. Two lines of that song stand out to me and aptly describe the grief of our nation. “There’s a grief that can’t be spoken. There’s a pain goes on and on.” Haunting words in his unfathomable predicament—fighting his guilt while also embracing the newfound love of his soon to be bride, Cosette.

These words ring true to me as I think of the Kennedy family and their grief. How does a mother like Rose Kennedy live with the grief of losing two sons to the bullet of an assassin? She had already lost two of her nine children to tragic plane crashes in the 1940s. Surely this was “a grief that can’t be spoken.” Yet she survived and lived to a ripe old age of 104.

It takes an amazing amount of faith and perseverance to endure that kind of loss. As mothers we feel the pain of our children’s hurts and disappointments—from the pain of a scraped knee to the hurt and rejection of bullying words voiced in school. But we were never meant to watch our children precede us in death.

Thankfully I’ve never experienced that kind of grief. I can only provide prayer, compassion, and sympathy to those who have. Like Rose Kennedy, whose faith got her through the pain and heartache shared by the nation, we can turn to the God of all comfort when life turns tragically wrong and we enter into a season with “a grief that can’t be spoken.”

“For no one is cast off by the Lord forever.Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.” (Lamentations 3:31-33, NIV)

~ Ardis A. Nelson

God Had a Plan!

13 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in challenges of motherhood, encouraging each other, God's healing love, leaving a legacy, reach out and touch, the healing journey, Uncategorized, when tragedy hits

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Christian author, Christmas, Christmas stories, Emotional and spiritual healing, Family, life stages, life's upward path, mentors, personal and spiritual growth

The Lord took Alice’s artistic ability, love of the Bible and interest in people, and her life experiences, and He turned it all into a ministry of encouragement through her creative writing.

A.R. (Alice) Cecil, one of our Journeys contributors, always enjoyed the arts. As a child, she put on plays in the basement. As a university student, she earned a masters degree in Fine Art doing studio painting. But God had another plan! Alice says that, as a young adult, the visual arts gave her a way to express ideas and emotions. She adds, “I did not have enough life experience and maturity to be a writer. My journey from painter to Christian writer could have only been orchestrated by God.”

When Alice and her husband, Joe (a well-known physician at Baptist East Hospital in Louisville, Kentucky), started a family, Alice read to her young children often. And she came to appreciate children’s literature so much that she was soon writing her own children’s books and illustrating them. Gradually, though, the bits of text that ran across the pages of those picture books grew and grew until she was writing full-length stories.

Then, 26 years ago, after their fourth child was born with cancer, Alice and Joe came to personal faith in Christ. The Lord brought a new focus to their lives.

After her conversion, as Alice grew as a Christian and as a writer, she wanted to incorporate the truths of the Bible into her writing. She hungered to better understand both theology and human nature. Alice lists several Christian writers who greatly influenced her during this time: Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Watchman Nee, Oswald Chambers, and C.S. Lewis. She also sought out mentors: a Christian psychologist and a seminary student earning his doctorate.

A strong desire grew within her to minister within the body of Christ through her writing. For a while she wrote a newspaper column. Then in 2012 her short memoir, “Run, Run, as Fast as You Can,” was published in the anthology, Journeys to Mother Love: Nine Women Tell their Stories of Forgiveness & Healing. This story tells Alice’s testimony of the relational challenges in her childhood as well as the sorrows that led a young mother to turn to Christ.

Alice has raised her four children and now has four grandchildren as well. Through all my communications with her she exudes joy and peace and patience (the fruit of the Spirit). And her writing demonstrates these fruits. This fall, her book of Christmas stories was released by Cladach Publishing, entitled That Was the Best Christmas!: 25 Short Stories from the Generations. Asked where she gets the ideas for her fascinating variety of characters, plots, and settings, Alice states that they develop from her desire to address certain aspects of the human condition with God as the answer. An endorsement from Judy Russell states it well: “A.R. (Alice) Cecil has a real gift to inspire and tug at heartstrings. Young and old will be inspired and enjoy.”

Each of the Christmas stories is set amidst historic events that take place during the years progressing from 1906 to 2013. The main character of each story is a boy or girl, man or woman whose heart opens to give or receive love, bringing personal transformation as they find opportunities to exchange the true gifts of Christmas, such as kindness, encouragement, forgiveness, peace, hope, and belonging. Alice (A.R. Cecil is her pen name) writes with a touch of humor and a warm understanding of both human relationships and the transforming power of God and His Word. That Was the Best Christmas! by A.R. Cecil is available in The Living Word bookstore in Louisville as well as through select stores across the country and online retailers. The paperback can be purchased at Amazon.com and BN.com. You can also read it in Kindle version.

To read Alice’s (A.R. Cecil’s) writing is to feel her heart and to be refreshed in faith and the joy of the journey.

~ Catherine

p.s. I based much of this post on Alice’s answers to interview questions I sent her. You’ll hear from Alice herself here soon, as she is preparing to post her personal testimony.

Unleash Power and Potential

23 Wednesday Oct 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in challenges of motherhood, encouraging each other, frustration to freedom, the healing journey

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Christian spirituality, Germination, Parenting, Seed

Seed capsules of Strelitzia nicolai (Photo credit: Tatters)

“Life with a biologist for a mother is never dull,” declares Carol O’Casey, author. “Consider the day I helped my then ten-year-old son Michael connect the dots between an orange and its seed. As he painstakingly struggled to remove each seed from the orange he was about to consume, he innocently wondered out loud where seeds come from and why oranges had to have seeds. Warning—don’t ever ask a biologist ‘why’ without expecting an in-depth explanation. I shared with Michael the literal definition of a fruit—the ripened ovary of a seed plant. Bad idea. The word ovary shuttered snack time and ended conversation. Michael’s taste for fruit soured for a solid week before his love of food triumphed and he was able to move beyond Webster’s definition. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.”

Carol O’Casey—mother, author, scientist, pastor’s wife—goes on to unwrap the wonder of seeds—using biology, literature, personal experience, and scripture—and applying this to the believer’s life of faith. She concludes, “Often times, in order for us to blossom into the abundant life God has in store for us [just like the potential in the seed], we must accept our own spiritual brokenness—just as germination requires the seed coat to be broken. …

Carol O’Casey

“Have you settled into dormancy? Are you lacking the life-giving water necessary to initiate the germination process? Do you long for an abundant, seed-coat-busting life? Abandon your dry and routine life to him. Risk heat. Risk exposure. Risk growth. And take heart. Jesus tells us, ‘Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds (John 12:24).’…

Mothers, whatever your age or that of your children, take Carol’s words to heart:

“Allow God to unleash his power in your life. Dream big. Grow great. Sprout where you are planted. And live. Abundantly.”*

~Catherine Lawton

This book can be purchased at http://amzn.com/0981892981

Sometimes I Still Wonder

17 Thursday Oct 2013

Posted by kyleen228 in Adopted children, challenges of motherhood, encouraging each other, Parenting, the healing journey

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Adoption, Children, Family, Finding our identity, Home, Parenting

I can’t help but wonder sometimes how my experience as an adoptive mom might differ from the one I would have had as a biological mom. I think my biggest curiosity is what it would be like to see my face in my child’s face or my personality traits within theirs.

Interestingly, God chose to make my daughter resemble me. From early on, people would look at her dark hair and eyes, compliment her and say to me, “I see where she gets it.” I would smile and say, “Thank you, but God gets all the credit.” This usually led to a confused frown and a great discussion about adoption.

In one such conversation, an adoptive mom told me I should enjoy the similarities now because when my children became adolescents, their “biology” would suddenly show up. She lamented that during the teen years, she would look at her adopted children in amazement because they seemed so different to her—as they exhibited traits she had never seen in them before.

To be honest this still scares me a bit. So far my children are my children. They have their own personalities, but I can see the power of their environment shaping them. They like the things we like, value the things we value, and live according to the rules of our house. What would it be like to one day look at my son or daughter and wonder, who does he or she get that from? Would I feel somehow emotionally separated from them?

And yet, I am reminded of the many biological parents who feel they don’t know their children as teenagers. Perhaps this mom assumed the change she saw in her adoptive children was a consequence of adoption when it was really just a consequence of adolescence.

For now, I am enjoying the similarities. God in his infinite goodness chose to bless our children with talents that fit right into our family, as if they were our biological children. My daughter likes to read and write and is very athletic. My husband and I enjoy many sports and both have graduate degrees in English. My son loves music and art, talents that are also shared by both my husband and myself.

So, as it has been with this entire journey, I am trusting God with the future. If that sweet adoptive mom was correct, my prayer is our family will have developed a strong enough bond to see our way through those turbulent waters. As my children discover who they really are through the process of adolescence and cope with their adoption and identity, hopefully they will know that God knit our family together not by accident but by design and our differences will become our strengths.

~ Kyleen Stevenson-Braxton

Mothering Inadequacies

30 Monday Sep 2013

Posted by ardisanelson in challenges of motherhood, family gatherings, feeling inadequate, generations coming together, God's healing love, mother wounds, Parenting, the healing journey

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a heart filled with love and hope, authentic relationship, Children, Family, giving and receiving, Healing love, Mothering

Ardis received this drawing from Roxio, one of the children she met in Spain.

I was 33 years old when I had my first child. Like many women, I felt unsure of myself and ill-equipped to be a mother. Unlike many, though, I believed I had good reason for my misgivings.

My mother had a nervous breakdown when I was six. She was still able to function in her role as a housewife, but it left her emotionally unavailable to me. For whatever reason, she rarely spent time with me in the kitchen or preparing me for my role as a wife or mother.

As I grew up and went out on my own, I wondered whether I would ever be a mother or have kids of my own. I never had a strong desire to be around children. I didn’t have the longing, like I hear some women express, to have children to feel complete.

After ten years of marriage my husband and I welcomed our first child into the world. My heart was stretched in new ways as my love poured out on my newborn son. My life revolved around him—struggling to nurse, on-demand and nighttime feedings, carrying him in a sling, etc. My love grew, yet my fear of mothering inadequacy hung over me, landing me back on my career path after the first year.

Then three years ago—thirteen years after the birth of our second son—my heart was stretched again when we opened our home to Pedro, a Spanish exchange student. This last summer, during my six-week stay in Spain, I was welcomed with open arms into Pedro’s family. His home was my home. His family was my family.

Although Pedro is an only child, I knew he has a large extended family and is very family-oriented. I’d heard their names, laughed at his family stories, and prayed for them in times of trouble.

I knew I’d be meeting many of Pedro’s relatives. I so wanted to put aside my fears of inadequacy. I wanted to make a favorable impression on Pedro’s younger cousins. I wanted to be able to bridge the language barrier.

These children didn’t really know much of the story (told in Journeys to Mother Love) behind why I was there. They didn’t know how our families were connected in grief with the passing of their grandmother. They didn’t know or understand about the healing of my mother-wound. All they knew was that I was the American host mother when Pedro visited Seattle.

It was genuinely difficult for me at first to meet these young kids. I was very much out of my comfort zone. I watched as Pedro and his parents engaged them with tickling and other silly antics. Laughter permeated the rooms of their flat in Madrid. I, on the other hand, was paralyzed inside by my lingering fear of mothering inadequacy. Initially I stuck to what was safe for me, communicating with the English-speaking adults.

My saving grace with the children was the gifts I brought with me from America—Beanie Babies for everyone. My gifts imparted the sense of love and gratitude I had for this family. It was the start that I needed to overcome my fears of connecting with the children. In time, I felt more comfortable and was able to bond in more natural ways.

When we accept Jesus as our Savior, God adopts us into His family. He has a way of putting people in our lives to help us heal the broken parts of us. My Spanish family has been that for me in so many ways. It started with Pedro, then to Rosa, his mother. It has grown to his father, his aunts and uncles, and his cousins. I met 26 relatives in all.

I do still have some doubts about my ability to mother my own children—especially as I’m learning how to parent a child with ADD. But in God’s goodness for the summer of 2013, I know I was loved by these children. I hope they will remember me in the years to come as they grow up. I know I will treasure the memories I had with them, and integrate that as a way to overcome any future fears of mothering inadequacy.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Sending Your Child to College

30 Friday Aug 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in challenges of motherhood, encouraging each other, Parenting

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Family, kids leaving home, letting go, life stages, milestones, Mothering, Parenting, Praying for our children

Several of my friends are in the throes of sending their son or daughter away to college (and some are sending grandchildren). In emails, on FB, and in person they are expressing their angst and emotion. This brings back memories of sending my first child to college 600 miles from home. My husband and I were pleased and proud of the young man he had become, the choices he was making. But we asked ourselves, “How did we get to this point so soon?” “How will we adjust to the lack of his presence in our home daily?” (I remember the first time we drove the 600 miles to visit our son in college. I told my husband, “I can’t wait to see David.” He answered me, “Yes, and hear him and feel him.”)

To help me deal with the emotions of this “letting go” of my firstborn to be part of a college community and pursue his education, I did what I did the day I sent him to kindergarten. …

Again this time I wrote a poem (if you want to call it that):

FIRST HOME AWAY

~

Big college dormitory

Do you understand the story

Of our son who’s gone to stay

Down your hall so far away?

~

Will you give him tender care,

Help him when life deals unfair?

Do you know his special needs?

Will you see that he succeeds?

~

Keep him of his manners mindful?

Foster choices that are rightful?

Listen late into the night,

Till his headlights come in sight?

~

You may have a useful function

At this restless child-man junction.

Our advice has had its say;

Now he has to find his way.

~

He can call for sympathy;

Bring home friends and laundry.

You’ll be there to watch the flight test

Of this fledgling from the home nest.

~

We’ll pay and pray and intercede

Until he’s properly degreed;

We’ll watch as God unfolds his plan

For our big college man.

C. Lawton

Our son has now earned three degrees, traveled the world, married, and is fathering three children himself. We’ve had more opportunities to “let go,” but what a joy to watch God’s plan unfold.

~ Catherine Lawton

Light Shining into the Darkness

08 Thursday Aug 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in challenges of motherhood, childhood memories, emotional needs, grief and loss, the healing journey, when tragedy hits

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authentic relationship, Books, Courage to be honest, Death, Emotional and spiritual healing, future hope, Mother, mother and daughter, relationships

In relationships between husband and wife, father and daughter, mother and child, it can come as a shock to realize that—though we love and are loved—though we share a bond that unites us—we are each of us separate, individual, sometimes even, painfully, alone. Most of the time we seek and find comfort and consolation in the knowledge that the other is there, or will be there, and we aren’t alone. But if you have ever lost a close loved one to death then you know the feeling of finality, separation, other-ness, of no-more-ness that can choke the consolation out of your being.

This feeling is described well in the new novel, Gadly Plain by J. Michael Dew. The 12-year-old girl named Spring-baby loses her father to death and emotionally she falls into a chasm of sadness that “bullies her, keeps her wilted, sober.” At least she shares grief with her mother. But then her mother abandons her (because “Mom needs time for Mom”).

When the author was nine years old his own father got sick and died. The story of Gadly Plain is his artistic expression of his own inexplicable trauma and the answers he found after many years of searching for meaning in the whole experience of human history, personal life and death.

Mr. Dew is a believer and the creative vision he shares in this imaginative story is honest about human weakness and suffering, but rooted in truth and hope. The book begins with a quote: “I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse whose rider is called Faithful and True” (Rev. 19:11).

The story itself is as earthy as a body in a casket, a girl in a tree, a donkey in a pasture, hay in a barn, an old lady smoking in a bathroom, a young woman driving aimlessly across the countryside, and a faithful farm hand giving a reassuring hug.

I challenge you, as a mother or a daughter, to face your own aloneness, watch and listen for the messengers the Lord of hope may be sending to you; and to help you do that, read the book Gadly Plain: A Novel.

~Catherine Lawton

Relationships Can Be Complicated

07 Friday Jun 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in challenges of motherhood, expectations, forgiving mom, forgiving yourself, generational patterns, generations coming together, Learning to appreciate Mom, the healing journey

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authentic relationship, Finding our identity, Israel, Messianic Judaism, Mother, mother and daughter, relationships, Yeshua

That’s me and Mother (a few years ago!)

In her review on Amazon.com of Journeys to Mother Love, Judy Pex* wrote, “I would recommend this book to any woman because even if we don’t all have daughters, we do all have mothers, and from my personal experience as well as women I speak with, those relationships can often be complicated.”

When it comes to complicated relationships, Judy knows of what she speaks. Growing up Jewish in America, living most of her adult life as a Messianic believer in Israel, raising her children to believe in Yeshua (Jesus) while they attended Israeli schools and then served in the Israeli army, hosting travelers from all over the world in the hostel she and her husband, John, run. Worshiping with and caring for people from many different cultural and language backgrounds. Working with refugees. All kinds of opportunities for complicated relationships (which she navigates with grace)!

Especially fraught with opportunities for complications is the mother/child relationship, and most especially the mother/daughter relationship. Why is that?

I’m going to list some thoughts off the top of my head about what might cause those complications:

1. Perhaps mothers try to re-live their lives through their daughters. And perhaps daughters see themselves or their potential selves in their mothers, and they may or may not like what they see.

2. Unrealistic expectations.

3. Emotional dependence.

4. The need to (and not always managing to) really listen and view your daughter – or mother – as a unique individual in her own right.

I’m sure there are many more contributing factors. Maybe our readers can add their thoughts about why this mother/daughter relationship can – and often does – become so complicated.

~ Catherine Lawton

*Judy (Judith Galblum Pex) is the author of Walk the Land: A Journey on Foot through Israel and A People Tall and Smooth: Stories of Escape from Sudan to Israel.

Grace to Broken Mamas on Mother’s Day

12 Sunday May 2013

Posted by good2bfree in challenges of motherhood, childhood memories, Gratitude, Learning to appreciate Mom, Parenting, the healing journey

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Tags

Family, mother and daughter, Mother's Day, Mothering, Parenting

I was cleaning my kitchen and an image of the upcoming Mother’s Day flashed in my mind. I pictured myself alone. By myself. No kids. No husband. Just me. It felt refreshing. Of course this mental image came right after all three of my children came in like a swarm of bees buzzing around me with, “Mama, can I have?” “Mama, can you get me?” “Mama! He hit me!” A constant buzz of wants, cries, and whines.

I pulled out a snack to calm these kiddos of mine. Looking at them sitting quietly (only because they had a mouth full of cocoa puffs), I resumed reality. I do want my Mother’s Day to be a celebration—more for the sake of my children, because I remember when I was a little girl excited to celebrate my mom. I would present her with the best handmade card ever created. Every year I gleamed with pride as I held out the pink construction paper fashioned into a fabulous declaration of “# 1 Mom!”. My mother accepted it with a smile, knowing that no matter how shaky my 5-year-old handwriting was, or how my crayon meant to draw a kitty cat that instead looked like a flat turtle with pointy ears, she loved it. I’m sure the idea of propping her feet up with a good book crossed her mind, but she always celebrated with her daughter instead.

Mother’s Day is a celebration. No matter how my relationship was with my mom, she decided to keep me, nurture me the best she could, and, simply, be my mom. I love her for that. And I thank God for knowing my mom would be the one for me.

Often times on the days when I feel so overwhelmed being a mother myself, I will hear an encouraging message reminding me of how God hand-picked me to be the mother of three creative, caring, spicy kids. They stretch my patience, my mind, and even my skin (as evident of the marks on my thighs!) But they also widen my heart and tame my selfishness.

I now understand my mom’s smile as she held the Mother’s Day card I made for her. She liked the card, sure; but she saw beyond the scribble. She saw a child, her child, drawing a different view of the world for her—a world that offered grace to a broken mama.

My sweet babies show me grace every day by wrapping their arms around me or cupping my face and saying, “I love you, Mama.”

Now that’s worth celebrating!

~Treva Brown

God Knows the Desires Of Your Heart

11 Saturday May 2013

Posted by kyleen228 in Adopted children, challenges of motherhood, confessing our need, emotional needs, encouraging each other, expectations, feeling inadequate, God's healing love, the healing journey, when tragedy hits

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Adoption, Mother's Day

As an adoptive mom, Mother’s Day brings many emotions. For years before my husband and I adopted children, I dreaded Mother’s Day. It reminded me of what I wanted and did not have. Even now, 8 years since we adopted our first child, I can still remember those feelings with surprising freshness. Infertility or barrenness is a difficult road to walk. Most young women assume motherhood will be a part of their life experience. When God has other plans, the shock and despair can be overwhelming. Given this, I thought it might be helpful to share how God helped me navigate this emotional mine field.

After my cancer and hysterectomy, I considered many options and struggled with much fear. My husband and I discussed surrogacy, adoption, foster care, and remaining childless. Many well-meaning friends tried to convince me that not having kids wasn’t such a bad thing, especially my friends with teenagers. Their warnings fell on deaf ears, however. I knew that my life would simply not be complete without children.

Four years later, with considerable pain, after deciding on adoption and still being without a child, I finally had to ask the question I dreaded: “Lord, do you not want me to have children?” What if He said “yes”? How could I reframe my life into a world that didn’t include children? It seemed impossible to me. And yet, I still had to ask. What I heard that day began to change my perspectives. In a still, small voice within my heart I heard, “Wait upon me and I will give you the desires of your heart.”

Wait….. Okay Lord, but isn’t that what I have been doing? Four years of waiting is a long time. What am I waiting for? Or better yet, what are YOU waiting for? Are you waiting on me?

Then one day God led me to 1 Samuel 1:1-20 and the story of Hannah. Barren and brokenhearted, Hannah was blinded by her grief. She had the love of her husband, his preference, in fact, over his other wife Penninnah who had given him children. Indeed, one day when Hannah was weeping, her husband asked her, “Hannah, why are you weeping? Why don’t you eat? Why are you downhearted? Don’t I mean more to you than 10 sons?” (1 Samuel 1:8). Hannah’s despair over being childless kept her from enjoying the blessings God had given her.

I realized I had been like Hannah, so consumed over the desire to be a mother that the sadness over what I wanted and did not have kept me from enjoying the good in my life, and there was so much good! I realized I had to surrender my will to God, believing his promise that if he chose not to make me a mother, he would fulfill the desires of my heart some other way. I started to see how God could provide spiritual children, a ministry, a career or so many other things that would fulfill my heart. I just needed to trust Him with my hopes and dreams.

Not long after that, the call finally came and a few months later we brought home a beautiful baby girl. I think God had been waiting for me to take that leap of faith and let go of my plans for my life. So if this Mother’s Day brings the pain of childlessness, let me encourage you to trust God with the desires of your heart. He may choose to bless you with children or He may choose to bless you in other ways. He made your heart and put your deepest desires there. He knows what will make you truly happy.

~ Kyleen Stevenson-Braxton

Always a Mother

09 Thursday May 2013

Posted by finishingwell2 in challenges of motherhood, generations coming together, leaving a legacy, Parenting, the healing journey

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giving advice, parenting grown children, passing on the faith, Spiritual formation

My children rarely ask for my advice, and I don’t give it anymore unless they ask. It’s been hard for me to stop offering unsolicited opinions, but I finally realized they’re not needed. My son and daughter are fully capable adults, managing their own lives very well without my input. As a result of withholding my opinions, there’s less interpersonal friction among us, a pleasant side benefit.

Lately, it’s been my turn to ask their opinions. I value what they have to say because they’re more in touch with what’s going on in the world, have logical reasons for their answers and can give me advice on any number of subjects, especially technology. They don’t seem to mind giving me advice; in fact, I think they like doing it.

That’s not to say I don’t try to keep up with change, because I believe that’s my responsibility. Still, the pace of change is so fast, I feel like I’m always running to catch up! Does it seem that way to you, too, or is that my age talking?

Looking forward, it’s possible I may get to the point where a decision has to be made about my future. I’ve done what I can to prepare for it, but sometimes life takes unexpected turns. If it becomes necessary for them to make decisions for me, I can trust them to do the right thing. They have good hearts and a solid foundation in Christ. And I honestly don’t worry about what might happen to me, because my children are good friends as well as being my brother and sister in Christ.

There is one way I can still be helpful, though, and that’s when we’re discussing Christian living. Then they are open to hearing what I have to say. They understand spiritual formation is a life-long process. Only because I’ve lived longer and had more years of growing in God do I possess wisdom that comes from experience. Sharing that knowledge with my children is perhaps the most valuable thing I can give them. Of course, I learn from them, too.

Philippians 1:21-26* confirms the value of adding to my children’s faith and maturity in Christ. Yes, it will be wonderful to experience the fullness of Christ’s presence death brings. But I’d rather remain and pass on what they need to know, in ways they can understand and apply to their own lives. If that sounds like a parent talking, then I admit it. I’m still their mother and always will be.

*For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. But if I live on in the flesh, this will mean fruit from my labor, yet what I shall choose, I cannot tell (do not know). For (but) I am hard pressed between the two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better. Nevertheless to remain in the flesh is more needful for you. And being confident of this, I know that I shall remain and continue with you all for your progress and joy of faith, that your rejoicing for me may be more abundant in Jesus Christ by my coming to you again” (Phil. 1:21-26, NKJ).

~ Ellen Cardwell