Category Archives: encouraging each other

A Letter on Leaving the Nest

02 Wednesday Jul 2014

Posted by in encouraging each other, leaving a legacy, Parenting

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He’s gone…my firstborn child graduated from college last month.  Then we packed up his belongings and settled him into an apartment 500 miles from home.

The last several weeks have been a frenzy of activity, including his 21st birthday.  I had glimpses of the emotion that I knew would come.  But none was as surprising as the wave that hit me when my son returned a letter to me I had written him when he left for college almost four years ago.

We were cleaning out his room, sorting what to take with him, what to keep at home, and what to get rid of.  He isn’t the sentimental type and asked me if I wanted to keep the letter. Naturally I agreed. While his focus and attention remained on sorting his belongings, I snuck away to read the letter…and the tears came.

I was surprised by the things I told him. I recalled the timing of the letter and what was going on in our lives. The events that led to my writing “Walking My Mother Home” in Journeys to Mother Love were just starting to develop: Pedro had returned to Spain after his first summer with our family; my communication had started with his mother Rosa; we had found out that Carmen, Rosa’s mother, only had a few months to live; and my mother was on hospice care back in Illinois.

Yet there in the midst of the pain of my aching mother wound I took the time to write a beautiful letter to my son. It seems my heart was already changing. The Lord was directing me to make a connection to my son in one of the few ways I felt comfortable—by writing him a letter.

I wish I’d done that again now. Maybe I still will. Or maybe this is the start of a season of occasional Skype calls and Facebook chats.

In any case, I’m sharing excerpts of that original letter here. Much of it still applies to my son’s post-college launch as it did to his move into the dorm. My hope is that it inspires you or gives you ideas on how to also write or connect with your son or daughter who has left the nest.

Dear Evan,

I don’t suppose that this note will tell you anything that I haven’t already conveyed to you in some way.  As you know, I am a person of many words.  This is my way of giving you a keepsake as you ‘leave the nest’ today.  Please keep this note and re-read it when you are feeling low, frustrated or confused while away at college…

…Your success in life is not based on what college you attend or the grades that you achieve.  It is based on your ability to integrate life’s disappointments and failures into your character and grow from them…

…Living on campus will present new challenges and exciting times for you—making your own decisions, meeting new people and learning to live with two roommates.  Sometimes it may seem like there are too many choices or not enough time.  You will need to sift through those choices.  If something doesn’t work out well or is not what you expected, it isn’t the end of the world.  You can still pick yourself up and move on with your head held high.  You can choose to forgive others and you can offer forgiveness to others too.  And remember, it’s not about being right.  Sometimes it’s about the greater good or the bigger picture.  It is hard to humble ourselves.  It is even harder to admit we were wrong.  Sometimes those simple words, “I’m sorry” can mean so much…

…The main thing I want to convey to you is that we trust you and that we are here for you.  We want you to explore your independence and to make your own decisions realizing that there will be some stumbling.  We hope that you will come to us for advice, to vent your frustrations and to rejoice in your successes.  We want to be here for you in whatever way we can as you transition to life on your own.

We love you regardless of the circumstances.  More than that, God loves you.  I hope and pray that you will use His Word and His Spirit inside you to guide you in your difficult decisions and your daily walk.

Love,
Mom

Reading that again even now, I have the overwhelming sense that these words were not just meant for him (or our children), but they were meant for me (and other adults) who didn’t have that kind of encouragement poured into them.

I know that today as I embrace this new season of motherhood and close the door to my son’s empty room, I need just a bit of encouragement too. How about you?

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Can we Talk?

17 Tuesday Jun 2014

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, confessing our need, emotional needs, encouraging each other, Parenting

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Looking-up-to-older-brother

My two sons. The younger one always looked up to his older brother.

I feel an incredible urge to sit and chat—to talk with my close friends and to talk to my mother. But none of that is really possible these days—especially since my mother passed away over three years ago.

I am in a rush, rush, rush to the finish line. No, it’s not the race for the prize, the eternal crown, that is referenced in 1 Corinthians 9:24-25. It is the finish line to the day my oldest child moves away from home to another state—only six more wake-ups.

Yesterday started my internal mother clock with the memories of what my son has gone through to get to this point in time. His first college graduation ceremony was last night. (He is attending a large state university where they hold separate ceremonies for your major as well as the all-school ceremony in the stadium.)

Although I wanted to be there, I made the difficult parenting decision to attend my other son’s final school band concert. It was also his 17th birthday—more memories surfaced there as well. My husband attended the graduation ceremony.

What I am struck with is how significant these events are in my life and my strong desire to have time to reflect and process them. Since there is no time, I am writing them down here in the hopes that other mothers will resonate with the pull of my heart.

Where has the time gone? How do we let go of our children? How do we parent the one left behind who is also aching over the time lost with his brother? He had just reached an age when they could relate to each other more and become friends. I have to process my own loss, and be vulnerable, yet strong, and encourage my youngest son too. This is hard to do—especially when this kind of parenting wasn’t modeled for you by your own parents.

If I droned on about how proud I am of my son, or how I wish I’d been there more often for him—the missed baseball games, chess tournaments and math competitions—or how I wished I was a more attentive mother at the early stages of his life, would you tune me out or think I’m just too sentimental?

That is the risk I take in sharing with you now—mother to mother. Maybe you have already been down this road. Or maybe it lies ahead for you. But rest assured, if you have children, you will reach a point when it is time to let go and say goodbye.

The tears will come and it will feel like a part of your heart has just been ripped out.

That quote describes what I am sensing as I write this. The day is not here yet, but sitting here chatting with you about it helps me face and express the feelings. And ultimately that was my goal—to get a chance to slow down and let my emotions surface instead of rushing through the day—to connect with myself and with you, dear Sister.

Thank you for letting me talk my way through this. I just got a text message with a request to help my son pack up his apartment at school. I’m off to the races again. I’m grateful that I can do these last things for him. I’m grateful that he asked and that he needs me just a little bit more.

Time to set aside my emotions and run.  Thanks for stopping by. Thanks for listening. It was nice to talk. I hope you’ll stop by again soon.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Journeying Together: A Group Interview

05 Thursday Jun 2014

Posted by in childhood memories, confessing our need, encouraging each other, God's healing love, the healing journey

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Meadow-flowers-sillouette copy
All nine of us participated in this group interview, answering questions about our stories in the book, Journeys to Mother Love. We’ve enjoyed getting to know each other better through this process, almost as if we were sitting around a living room and sharing round the circle. Pull up a chair and listen in!

INTERVIEW

1. Did you laugh or cry, or both, while you were writing your story?a pink butterfly

Ellen Cardwell: Surprisingly, I didn’t do either. Rather, writing the story released something inside that needed to come out. I feel lighter now whenever Mom comes to mind.

Treva Brown: I completely did both. I also felt anger, but was able to fully release it quickly.

Ardis Nelson: I went away to a secluded camp so I could focus on writing and prayer. I cried at times. Now my tears are tears of joy.

Kerry Luksic: In writing this story, I had plenty of tears. My mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s eight years ago. It was hard to accept that there’s no cure and that it’s progressive–Mom would only get worse through each heartbreaking stage. But in sharing this story, the tears I shed were healing for me.

Loritta Slayton: I don’t think I did either, but I felt the emotions again–the upset, the struggle and the joy of what God accomplished in me that I couldn’t do for myself.

Kyleen Stevenson-Braxton: I always cry when I write about God’s grace in giving me two beautiful adopted children. It reminds me afresh of his mercy and love.

a pink butterfly2. What do you especially relate to in one or more of the other women’s stories? 

A.R. (Alice) Cecil: I can relate to all the other authors in JOURNEYS TO MOTHER LOVE. We all found the only way to healing is through Jesus Christ, and we all want to help others by sharing our experience.

Catherine Lawton: Treva Brown tells of how her mother died even younger than mine did (and by much more violent circumstances). I relate to her regret over some of the words she had said to her mother, and wishing she had said certain other words before it was too late.

Ellen: The last part of Loritta Slayton’s story, “White Knuckles,” took me back to when my mother needed my help and our roles were reversed. God encouraged and enabled her to let go of hurt feelings and journey down the path to love.

Treva: In “Walking My Mother Home” Ardis Nelson wrote, “I was embracing the parts of my mother that were in me.” I am currently doing that now, so it really touched my heart.

Ardis: I think I was the most moved by Loritta’s story. I felt her pain with each decision she made along her journey with her mother. The ending to her story was a fitting ending to the book—very encouraging.

Loritta: The emotional process of their hurts being released to God and their journeys of walking it out with Him speak to me. I was moved by Treva’s descriptions of this process.

a pink butterfly  3. In what point in your relationship with your mother or child did you realize you needed relational healing?

Alice: My mother was always closer to me than any of her other children; I sensed her unhappiness and wanted to try to be there for her. Then in my early twenties I left home for the city to work. Transported into the world, I began to see not all the ways in my childhood home matched the ordinary way of going about life.

Catherine: The need in my heart became evident when I was going through grief over my mother’s death. As you can read in the book, the Lord has ways of healing our relationships even when separated by distance, disease or death.

Ellen: When I was a new Christian and learned how important it was to forgive others. Also at that time, the relationship with our mothers was a topic of discussion with my close friends, all of whom felt they had emotional gaps that their parents, especially their mothers, hadn’t filled.

Treva: Years after she died. It was a hard journey because I was unable to talk to my mom and hear her respond. But I wouldn’t change a thing, for that is where I truly encountered God.

Loritta: I knew most of my life that it wasn’t what it should be. But when I read A Daughter’s Journey Home, by Dr. Linda Mintle, some of the pieces of the puzzle came into focus. I began to pray about my relationship with my mother and ask God to work in us. And my journaling with God and the listening practice opened the door significantly.

4. What makes the mother/child relationship so significant? a pink butterfly

Ardis: I think the mother/child relationship is a mirror of the love our heavenly father has for us.

Kerry: I never realized until I had my own children, but at the end of the day, a mother’s love for a child is the strongest bond that exists.

Kyleen: I think that, since I wanted children and was unable to have them, it has made me appreciate what so many women take for granted. I envy the blessings of being pregnant, of giving birth, of seeing your features in your child’s face, of knowing they came from your body. But God has taught me that he is the maker of families, and I am blessed knowing that Jesus, too, was adopted (by Joseph). So my children are to me the very face of God. To me they represent all that he is – his goodness, kindness, and love.

5. What events, sensory experiences, etc., trigger your memories of a pink butterflyyour mother?

Catherine: My mother had a quip, saying, or song for every situation or occasion, it seemed. Those sayings and songs pop into my head often and remind me of her. I still “hear” her voice.

Ellen: Going to the farmer’s market, smelling apple pies baking … sewing, bringing flowers into the house … Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays.

Treva: A certain Dolly Parton song, camping and eating spaghetti. My mom loved spaghetti.

Ardis: This may sound strange, but I think I am most reminded of my mother in my writing and speaking opportunities. I feel that she would be proud of me for who I am finally becoming, and that gives me a great sense of her presence with me. In a way, this makes up for not having her there when I was young.

Loritta: She enjoyed flowers and colors in shades of purples, aquas, violets. Just this week I walked past orchids in the grocery store that are tinted in those tones and thought of her.

6. Do you ever see your mom in yourself?  a pink butterfly

Catherine: Every time I make the choice and the effort to be positive, to engage with other people when I feel like pulling away … I think of my mother who modeled those attitudes to me.

Ellen: Yes. She had an authoritative way of speaking. She would make pronouncements (not always based on facts), pontificate, and discourage discussion. I still find myself sounding like her, even though I’ve tried for years to overcome it. When I notice myself doing the same thing, it lets me know how ingrained her attitudes were/are in me. I feel frustrated that it’s still there inside my personality. Then I’m motivated to revisit my efforts to change and make it more of a priority to do so.

Treva: At times I do. I used to despise it. But God was able to bring me to a place of embracing those characteristics and bring me more understanding of my mom.

Verna Hill Simms: I remind myself of Mother every time I sit in the living room and watch for the mail carrier. Mail means a lot to me as it did to her.

Ardis: This question hits to the core area of my personal healing when my mother died. I was able to integrate and embrace the parts of my mother that I had been rejecting all my life. Thanks to the Lord’s work in me, I am no longer embarrassed by our similarities.

Kerry: Yes. I especially see my mom in myself when I’m faced with a tough challenge. My mom never gave up on anything and she leaned on her faith during the hardest times. When I’m going through a tough time, I think of mom and follow her example. Whenever I feel like life is a bit too hard, I remember my mom’s example and immediately feel stronger.

7. In what way is mother love a journey?   a pink butterfly

Alice: I wonder how God would have brought me along without children! I know there are people who do not have children and who have a deep relationship with God, but God knew I needed children!

Ellen: For me, mother love grew from an unrealistic ideal to a reality based on experience. Each stage of our children’s growth, from elementary school to junior high to high school has challenges of its own. As I journeyed along with my children, my love was tested, strengthened and developed through the ups and downs they experienced. My love grew from the tenderest feelings for our infants to caring for their needs while juggling other responsibilities, to tough love as they tested boundaries. Mother love survived the smooth and rocky places along the path because, I believe, it originates in God’s love for us all.

Ardis: I am seeing this theme poignantly in my life now. Just today I had a conversation with my 15 year old son about this. We had connecting time while attending a doctor’s appointment. I didn’t have any of that with my parents. I am embracing the journey of learning how to mother anew, be a “sister” to Rosa, an “aunt” to Pedro, and a daughter to my stepmother. This journey is connecting me with my heart and allowing me to share it with others.

Kerry: Mother love is a journey because life is a journey. There are ups and there are downs; there are moments of joy and moments of sheer pain; but through all of it, love is the foundation. My mom has progressed to the advanced-stage of Alzheimer’s and this is the final destination in our journey. Alzheimer’s is a heartbreaking disease, but I have peace knowing that at the end of my mom’s journey here on earth, she will be rewarded for her lifetime of love. faith, and determination–the gift of Heaven.

Loritta: You can’t understand everything from one vantage point. You have to climb that mountain and look back sometimes, and other times you just have to put your hand in God’s and let Him talk to you about what you need to know that only He can reveal in a way that you can receive.

Kyleen: Learning to love unconditionally, to bring out the best in your children, to be their cheerleader and to guide them with kindness is not always easy, especially when your own relationship with your mother was strained. Still, it is a noble and worthy endeavor. This is the journey God asks us to take as mothers.

All the authors and their stories

Inspiration for Your Journey ~ Only 99¢

10 Saturday May 2014

Posted by in encouraging each other, Mother's Day, the healing journey, Uncategorized

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Announcement!

You can buy our book Journeys to Mother Love on Kindle for only 99¢ during the next three days.

This is our Mother’s Day gift to our friends and followers. If you already have the kindle book, consider buying it as a gift for a friend.

Click to Journeys to Mother Love in the Kindle store here: http://amzn.com/B00905EDSQ

Blessings on your journey.

Orphaned or Adopted? ~ Reflections on Easter Sunday

20 Sunday Apr 2014

Posted by in Adopted children, encouraging each other, God as our parent, Jesus on the cross

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cross

We all have parents, whether we physically knew them or not. In my case, I knew both of my parents, growing up in a home where they both lived until I was nine. It was at that point that they divorced. My mother, my two brothers and me moved 2,000 miles away so we could be near my mother’s relatives.

Saying goodbye that day to my father on the plane was a very painful experience. It was back in the day when non-ticketed friends and family could go beyond the security check-point at the airport. My father walked us all onto the plane and paid special attention to me. Through my tears I could hear him reassuringly say, “Everything is going to be ok. You need to be a big girl now and take care of your mother.”

That was not my first taste of abandonment, but it’s the one I remember most. My previous taste of abandonment was when my mother had her nervous breakdown when I was six years old. She didn’t choose to abandon me, but the effects of that event led me to never really knowing my mother as a person.

Those two abandonments early on in my life left me seeking to fill the void in my heart in unhealthy ways. I tried throughout my teens and into adulthood to win my father’s approval—to feel important in his eyes. Worse than that were the choices I made to rebel against God. Thankfully God has redeemed the pain of my youth and beyond.

When I grew up—I mean really grew up emotionally on the inside—not my physical age, I started to recognize and label these abandonments for what they were and the affects they had on me. Now that both of my parents are gone (going on two years), a friend who recently lost the second of her parents asked me if I feel (or felt) like an orphan after they passed.

Her question gave me an opportunity to reflect on that very point. We talked about it a bit. My response was ‘no’. I can certainly understand how one would feel that way. However, for me, I led the life of an orphan most of my adult life. As I actively turned to Christ in the last decade or so, I learned more about my significance to God and the role the Body of Christ was intended to play in my life. I built relationships with other women who were also hungry for God and seeking to become the women He designed them to be.

I was no longer orphaned; I was adopted. I was adopted into the Body of Christ and was now part of His family.  Romans 8:14-16 tells us:  For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God.  The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba,Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.

With that adoption comes a responsibility to live life as God designed. Easter Sunday is a marker of that adoption for all who accept Christ as their Savior. Our adoption certificates are signed with his blood. Let us not take that for granted.

Regardless of the relationship you had or didn’t have with your parents, may you embrace the love of our Heavenly Father and His physical representatives on earth as your family.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

STAIRCASE TO A BETTER PLACE AND TIME

27 Thursday Mar 2014

Posted by in childhood memories, emotional needs, encouraging each other, generations coming together, God's healing love, Learning to appreciate Mom, reach out and touch, the healing journey

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stairs

My mother turned 99 in January. She resides in a nursing home that feels like a prison. I must always wait in a glassed-in foyer to be buzzed into the hallway that leads to my mother’s room. And, I must always wait for a go-ahead signal in order to exit the building.

One of the nurses affectionately calls Mom, “99.” Mom laughs at her nickname. She recognizes the love behind it, and she appreciates the humor and attention. My mother is blind, cannot walk, eats only pureed food, sleeps most of the day, and will not—at 5 o’clock in the late afternoon—remember that one of her children visited at lunchtime. My siblings and I keep a calendar taped on the side of the wardrobe in her room, so we can sign our names on the days when we visit.

“See here where Ella came yesterday,” I say in order to make conversation.

“No,” Mom emphatically responses. “Ella has not been to visit for a long time.” My siblings and I never correct Mom. Why try to set her straight?

Once Mom asked me to go upstairs and get a blanket for her. There is no upstairs. In Mom’s mind, we are back in my childhood home. “There’s one right here,” I say as I walk over and open the wardrobe. Mom is satisfied, and the fact that there is no upstairs—that we are not in my childhood home—never becomes an issue.

Then, on another occasion, Mom invited me to eat with her. We were sitting together in the nursing home dining hall. Mom thought we were in a restaurant. “No,” I replied. “I’ll wait to eat with Joe when I go home.” She accepted my reason for not eating in the “restaurant.”

But, after the meal as I was pushing her wheel chair out of the room, she turned her head back to me and said, “Did you pay?”

“It’s taken care of,” I replied.

Lately, my mother wants to sleep through lunch. She is too exhausted to raise the spoon to her mouth. And when she tries to feed herself, the result is a mess. “Want me to feed you?” I now ask.

And, my mother replies, “Yes, please.”

I feed her like I used to feed my children when they were babies in the highchair. The task of feeding her brings fond memories to mind of my urchins with their beautiful, happy faces, playing “pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man; roll ’em up, roll ’em up; pitch ’em in a pan.”

My mother’s plate of food looks like the contents of baby food jars were deposited on it. I am forced to read her menu in order to learn that the light tan mush is chicken and gravy, and that the mossy green blob is seasoned green beans. I feed her like I used to feed my toddlers, even scraping food off her chin and from the corners of her mouth.

It is sad to see all this decline, but there is something very special about these times together. We are a very quiet twosome. Except for an occasional softly-spoken comment or question from me, we sit in silence. The moment is ours, and I do not want to share it with any of the other residents or nurses’ aides as they scurry about from table to table. “You’re doing a great job,” I say. “The plate is almost empty,” I inform. “Does it taste good?” I ask. “Do you want to eat more, or are you full?” I inquire.

Mother and child sit together in the “restaurant,” located in the “downstairs of my childhood home.” We share the quiet, reverent moment. But, who is the mother? Who is the child? Our roles have become as blurred as the space around us. I can’t imagine anyone around us, who is as happy as we are because our imaginations—rooted in faith—have knocked down the prison walls and have built a staircase to a better place and time.

Filling the Mother-Loss with Tangible Grace

04 Tuesday Mar 2014

Posted by in Adopted children, emotional needs, encouraging each other, generations coming together, God's healing love, grief and loss, losing mom too soon, the healing journey

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CG1girl

When your mother dies, especially if she is still quite young, you can feel forsaken and forlorn. And even when your heart embraces the mercy of these true words: “When my mother and father forsake me, the Lord will take me up” — there remains a mother-shaped cavern in your heart that reminds you every day of your loss.

But the Lord has shown me that He wants to fill that hole in my life with the most unexpected, beautiful gifts. I have been wanting to tell my readers about the wondrous gifts that have been coming to me. And I think it is time now. So, with a sense of Heaven’s nearness, a smile of awe, and a few tears, I’ll share the rest of the story….

This week my pastor concluded his sermon with the words, “Filling our imagination with Jesus, we increasingly live in touch with reality, while the whole world is out of touch with reality.” I know this is true. I’ve experienced Jesus working through my imagination to enter and heal the losses and wounds of my life. Our minds can believe all sorts of lies, and our hearts can be oppressed by darkness; but when Jesus steps in to fill a mind and a heart, light shines out the darkness, and loving truth dispels crippling falsehood.

You can read my story — of how Jesus “took me up” and healed my heart — in Journeys to Mother Love. Part of that story is that for many years I have lived with a mother-cavern in my heart since my mother died when I was in my twenties. Since Mother was adopted as a young child out of a large family fallen on hard times (during the Great Depression, her mother died of TB and her father left to find work) … and then, adopted, she was raised as an only child … I have had no relatives on my mother’s side.

Then, 18 months ago, after years of searching, I found my mother’s birth family — living within an hour’s drive of my husband and me! I found a cousin the same age as my mother who had been a toddler in the same home with Mother and always wondered what happened to little Imogene. At 83 she was the last of the generation that remembered my mother, Imogene. So I found her in the nick of time.

This new-found cousin, Mary Lou, was as thrilled to find me as I was to find her. We felt a bond immediately, and the mother-cavern in my heart didn’t feel so empty. And gradually I learned that she was a person of faith who loved the Lord and prayed for her family.

I treasure the times we spent together: visits in my home and in her apartment, sharing lunches together, looking through photo albums, finding so many ways our paths have intersected unbeknown to us, feeling her strong grasp of my hands, her kisses on my cheeks, hearing her heartfelt, “I love you!”

Then this winter she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Long vigils in the hospital brought my husband and me together with her children and grandchildren. And the heart-cavern of impending loss filled with cousins who enfolded me and I have found myself surrounded by family I never expected to have.

Last Friday night my husband and I stood with 16 of Mary Lou’s family members around her ICU bed as she lay at death’s door. We had each had opportunity to sit with her, express our love, and say good-bye. But the grief and sadness were creating a huge cavern of grief in the room, felt by everyone present.

Then this family, with tears, each at various stages of belief and doubt, gathered round the beloved mother and grandmother who had been their strong, caring, faithful hub and, instead of calling the hospital chaplain, asked one of her sons, who had been a steady church attender, to pray. I doubt the family had ever done that before. But as gentle, simple, real, heartfelt words poured from that brother (one of my new-found cousins, who has had much suffering in his life) grace like rain poured sweetness into the gaping cavern of sadness. Surely every heart, no matter how unaccustomed to praying, was touched. … How can sadness be so sweet?!

Soon after that I read my friend Jasona’s blog in which she writes, “I see loss, difficulty, and uncertainty as cavernous places, and I have hope that when we open them to Jesus he fills them with grace so they can become … like settings for diamonds.” (You can read her entire blog post here.) Jasona’s post came to me as another gracious gift that helped me fill my imagination with Jesus, helped me deal with the grief in a way that was in touch with reality — the realities of Life in the midst of death, Light in the midst of darkness, Heaven in the midst of our earthy lives, and the Wonders of God’s ways.

~ Catherine Lawton

What? You Can’t Stop Crying

08 Wednesday Jan 2014

Posted by 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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Alice-poetry-bookWHAT? 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.

Hope Realized

23 Monday Dec 2013

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

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Nativity

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.

Treasuring Christmas in our Hearts

22 Sunday Dec 2013

Posted by in encouraging each other, expectations, God's healing love

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Christ-NativityAt this time of year as I try to set aside the holiday rush and connect with the real reason for the season, I find myself wondering what it was like to be a witness to what God was doing in the lives of Mary and Joseph. The Bible doesn’t say what their immediate families thought about Mary’s claims to be a virgin with child. The only glimpse of unbelief comes from Joseph when he considers divorcing Mary.

Looking at how Mary and Joseph kept their faith in the midst of such possible ridicule and shame helps me to see how God operates in our lives. Here are a few ways that God reminded Mary and Joseph what He was capable of:

  1. An angel told Mary she would give birth—as a virgin.
  2. Mary visited Elizabeth and received confirmation of what the angel told her.
  3. Mary carried Jesus in her womb as a constant reminder of God’s promise to her.
  4. Shepherds were sent by angels to worship Jesus.
  5. The wise men bearing gifts were guided by a star to visit Jesus.
  6. God protected the young family as they escaped to Egypt to avoid Herod’s murderous spree.

While it may seem like a stretch to compare ourselves to Mary and Joseph, they were human and I imagine that they needed these reminders as well—especially when it came to watching Jesus be crucified on the cross.

In my pastor’s Sunday message, he noted one way to experience peace this Christmas is to find ways to remind ourselves of what God is capable of. The verse that comes to my mind as I look back at how God has shown up in my life is also from the Christmas story. It is Luke 2:19: But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.

Like Mary’s story, God gives us glimpses of Himself in our lives. He wants us to treasure them, to remind ourselves of them, and sometimes even cling to them in times of trials and tribulations. When we remind ourselves of God’s goodness in our lives, we can trust Him in the dark periods too. It builds our faith and it gives us His peace.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Run, Run as Fast as You Can

21 Thursday Nov 2013

Posted by in childhood memories, confessing our need, emotional needs, encouraging each other, generational patterns, God's healing love, Influence of Grandparents, letting go of anger, the healing journey

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File:Gingerbread landscape.jpg

photo:Orsotron (Wikipedia)

Sunny days must have consistently won over rainy ones when I was a school-aged child because most of my memories are rooted in the long treks after the three o’clock dismissal. I would hightail it home, taking every shortcut through the backyards that stood between the elementary school and my front door.

“Run, run as fast as you can,” I would tell my feet, as I was distancing myself from those immature children who picked favorites and then picked on those they had deemed inferior.

There was no doubt whether or not I was on the list of the popular kids, but I never was ridiculed because I made myself invisible, an ability I learned from the dynamics in my home. This skill was utilized in almost every social circle. Go to school, do a little work; come home and see how my mother was doing; that routine suited me very well until it dawned on me that I could not remain invisible forever and survive.

One day when school was dismissed, the bright blue sky suddenly turned black and then proceeded to release every drop of its accumulated precipitation. “Run, run as fast as you can,” I told my feet. “Run to get out of the rain.”

At home I found my mother dozing on the day bed in the den while the soap operas told the sordid intermingling of the lives of beautiful people. I stopped in the bathroom and rubbed my wet hair with a towel. A glance in the mirror did not reveal a beautiful person, and I couldn’t blame the rain. Here at the onset of my teen years, I was faced with a great dilemma: I desperately wanted to fit in, but I was afraid.

Dropping my wet clothes on the floor, I pulled on a casual outfit which included my favorite sweatshirt. In it, I felt secure. Then I slid onto the couch that sat adjacent to my mother’s bed.

As I was my mother’s companion for TV’s “Guiding Light,” I imagined myself to be my father’s silent confidant, ever ready to pour out words of encouragement and comfort whenever he would choose to turn and acknowledge me. Something sad was brewing in his heart, and I wanted to help him. But he never chose to confide in me. Where was he, so deep in thought? Was he replaying the time he spent in World War II and the unbelievable atrocities he saw there?

I felt powerless to solve my parents’ problems. So I determined someday to lift them up on the shoulders of my happiness. Such was the grand, warped plan of my childhood.

As I waited for that bright future, I found some semblance of relationship with my maternal grandmother. I was drawn to her orderly home and gentle, disciplined spirit. And she was religious. While the entire extended family went to church every Sunday, she was the only one who put voice to her faith; she was the one who lived out the gospel with steadfast endurance. Grandmother had no time for moping. She hit the linoleum running in the morning. She had her share of difficulties, but she never let them define her.

Time slowly passed and, with great delight, I left the teen years behind. At twenty I was preparing to leave for the city to fulfill my destiny. But first I visited Grandmother. I nervously chatted away, keeping the conversation light and funny. All that talking, however, took an unexpected, woeful turn. Out tumbled many fears with a hint of the underlying anger. Then, since I didn’t like what I was hearing myself say, I iced it over by backtracking with remarks that served only as a layer of guilt.

There is no hope for me, I groaned within my spirit. Grandmother, however, intently listened without interrupting, like a psychologist who is assessing her client’s situation. When I finished, silence filled the space between us and I wanted to flee. But then Grandmother spoke and her words revealed the strength behind her small frame.

“We must take up our cross,” she simply said.

Our cross? What does the cross have to do with my plans for a life where everything is tidy, happy, and successful? What was Grandmother talking about?

While I could not make the connection of Christ’s cross to my life, Grandmother’s statement sank deep within my soul where it lay dormant for many years.

Grandmother lived to see me marry a fine man and have one daughter. My plans for a good life were set in motion. I kept our home immaculate. During the holidays, it looked like a Christmas card. Every spring and summer the flower beds declared: “Care and love reside within.” Boundless energy undergirded the dream. As long as I worked hard and pretended to be happy, surely my heart would catch up with my outward persona. However, deep down inside there was a faint echo: “Not right! Not right! Something’s missing.”

Then the second daughter was born. After one month of caring for the baby that would not settle, she was diagnosed with cancer. Fourteen months passed, and the surgery and radiation treatments did not fulfill their intended purpose; the cancer was back and now in her bone marrow. Chemotherapy was the new, last hope.

“Run, run as fast as you can,” I read to the older sister. “You can’t catch me. I’m the gingerbread man.”

Run, run to be there for the five-year-old sibling. Run, run to take care of the house, to look after the baby, to keep all of her appointments. … Run, run, I was running out of steam.

There were many rounds of chemotherapy. She received a treatment every day for one week, every third week, for two years. After one of the toddler’s chemotherapy treatments, I was sitting beside her on my big bed that had been prepared for her body’s violent reaction to the toxins. Several hours of vomiting and diarrhea would soon begin. While she slept, I read a book about an encounter a man had with Jesus when he was in prayer. (The book came into my life because I was searching for something/anything to help me cope.) I put the book down and let the pent-up tears flow. I was so sad. More than sad, I was angry. In my mind in that moment, the sleeping child beside me was not going to have the chance for a full life.

“I’ve done everything I know to do,” I told the ceiling. “It’s up to you now!”

Of course, I was not calling out to the ceiling, but to our heavenly Father. The prayer was a two-pronged one: one prong for the recovery of my sick child and one for me. I was tired, and I was lost. I was confused, and my best efforts had failed. I was so tired. “Run, run,” I was tired of running. I could no longer outrun God.

At that very moment of the prayer, Someone else started running. “Run, run,” God the Father was running as fast as he could, for he saw one of his children turn and start coming toward him (see Luke 15:20, the account of the Prodigal Son).

Jesus entered my life that day thirty-one years ago. The experience of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit is as real to me as the physical objects around me. The sick child survived and is now a grown, healthy, married woman. I no longer run aimlessly. God is the mainspring of my life. I now understand Grandmother’s response to the fact that the cross is the answer for my life. In order to bring glory to God, I have had to take up my cross daily and follow him. But with him, my burden is light because I am held up by his everlasting arms.

Did my life turn out to be perfect? Since that day on my daughter’s sick bed, have I lived “happily-ever-after”? I can only be honest and say, “No, of course not.” Am I perfect person? No, of course, not. But, there is a huge difference between the woman who was running to make a good life and the woman who now looks to God for the answers in her life.

~A.R. Cecil

God Had a Plan!

13 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by 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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Alice-72-rgbThe 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.”

Christmas-Cover-Web-Lrg

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.

Can a Child of Unhappy Parents Become a Happy Adult?

30 Wednesday Oct 2013

Posted by in confessing our need, emotional needs, encouraging each other, God as our parent, God's healing love, rejecting lies, the healing journey

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A mother holds up her child.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

TRUE HAPPINESS

Recently I was given the honor of preparing and presenting my testimony at the Christian Women’s Club. The club gives each speaker 25 minutes. Reading the entire story straight from the book would take well over an hour. I would have to condense my story. Through this painful process of condensing, the Lord revealed to me a significant personal truth. Perhaps I have been the only one who did not see what was between the lines. I probably needed someone to say, “Oh, I see what you are saying.” And I then I could have responded by asking, “What? Tell me what you see.”

Since no one has been that brave, God decided to step in. I can picture him now, thinking this through: I’ll orchestrate a circumstance that will pull the personal truth out of the text! She has had a glimmer of this fact before, but now she is ready for a deeper revelation.

Our Lord knew I was ready for the bigger picture. So, I began: delete, delete, and delete some more (Oh, some of my favorite parts are falling on the cutting room floor!). Then, I added a few sentences to make up for all the deleted information. First a quote from the book: “As I was my mother’s companion for TV’s ‘Guiding Light,’ I was my father’s silent confidante, ever ready to pour out words of encouragement and comfort whenever he chose to turn and acknowledge me.” Now for the condensed add-on: “As a child, I was powerless to help my mother and father find happiness. So, I determined to someday bring happiness to them. I would lift then up on the shoulders of my happiness.”

Wow! Really? Why didn’t someone point this out to me? So, that’s what I have been doing all these years! I took on the responsibility for my parents’ happiness (and you can imagine how that life-long, self-imposed commitment played out!). Innocent children have an innate, unconditional love for their parents. They want their mother and father to be happy. They experience deep sadness when their mother and/or father is sad.

Recently I went to the downtown part of our city to take care of my mother’s business. She is in a nursing home and, since her money has been spent down, she is on Medicaid. I lingered in a large room with many other people who were also waiting to be escorted to one of the cubicles where they, like me, would speak with their case-worker. All of us, young and old, had a need for financial assistance from the government. At the end of the room were double doors that opened into a hallway. I could hear a voice from around the corner. It was a child’s voice. He was pleading with his mother. He kept repeating the same sentence. “I love you, mommy. I love you, mommy.” I did not hear the mother answer him. Was the child trying to console his mother? Was the mother displaying stress and sadness? (The reasons for being in that place are stressful and sad ones.)

I wanted to get up and go find the child, kneel down in front of him, and say, “I love you. God loves you.” If the situation I overheard was a sample of the child’s relationship with his mother, I cannot help but think: Where is their relationship heading? This child will probably turn from his mother one day in anger (and his anger may be expressed as depression. Once I heard a definition for depression, which spoke of it as being “anger turned inward”).

I am not suggesting we present a happy, go-lucky spirit with our children. That persona is unreal, and our children are as quick to pick up on it as they are the forlorn one. Rather, my message to mothers (and fathers) everywhere is that they can find true happiness in an authentic relationship with God through Jesus Christ. There is absolutely no substitute for this road to true happiness.

I just wish I could kneel in front of every child in the world and say, “I love you. God loves you.” However, we can each kneel in front of our children and say those words. We can live out the life of peace and a quiet joy. I know without any doubt that God the Father loves me. He bends down to me every day and says, “I love you. I love you.” My journey would have been greatly condensed if I had understood this truth earlier, but it has been a long, rambling road with very much between the lines.

To young mothers, I want to say: “Recognize God’s love, respond to it, teach it, and witness it to your children. It is the only genuine gift you can give them.” I am still a mother, and now I am a grandmother. I am real with my children and grandchildren. They have seen me cry in sadness and display justifiable anger on occasion. However, they see someone who is able to accept life’s many bumps in the road because the Father’s love has been realized. I am sure they can hear the echo of the Father’s words: “I love your mother. I love your grandmother.” We can give our children and grandchildren the freedom of not needing to bear the responsibility for our happiness; we can witness the presence in our lives of God, who is the source of our true happiness.

~A.R. (Alice) Cecil

p.s. (I recommend a book by Martyn Lloyd-Jones with the title: True Happiness.)

Unleash Power and Potential

23 Wednesday Oct 2013

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

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Seed capsules of Strelitzia nicolai

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-author-color-webCarol 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

*The quotations above are taken from the book, Unwrapping Wonder: Finding Hope in the Gift of Nature by Carol O’Casey. Copyright 2013. Used by permission.

Wonder-cover-smThis book can be purchased at http://amzn.com/0981892981

Sometimes I Still Wonder

17 Thursday Oct 2013

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

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Children dancing in a circle

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