Category Archives: generational patterns

The Imperfect Job of Mothering

12 Friday May 2017

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, confessing our need, encouraging each other, expectations, frustration to freedom, generational patterns, importance of prayer, leaving a legacy, Parenting

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

blue-orchids

Is life coming at you like the balls that are shot out of the machine at a batting cage? In that vulnerable place, is your only hope to swing at each new, in-your-face incident, hoping to connect with a few? That has been—and still is—my prayer and hope.

My nest has emptied. Though—praise the Lord—it occasionally fills back up. But I remember those days when I was standing with a bat in my hands and my heart in my throat, as one new challenge after another zoomed at me. Daily I was required to step up to the plate. By the grace of God I connected with the important ones. However, I also missed my share. As I have told my children, who now have children, it’s all about the track record.

We cannot do a perfect job. Our children will be fine if our track record has more hits than misses. If we dwell on the missed or messed-up opportunities, we will be too preoccupied to see the next ball when it comes our way. Anyway, our children aren’t counting. They are more perceptive than we give them credit for being. They see Mom up at the plate, bat in hand. They understand she isn’t perfect. In fact, they are more comfortable in a loving, imperfect environment than in one where Mom thinks she is in control of everything. (Notice: I could not say, “one that is perfect.” There are no perfect situations. My only alternative was to express the above comparison as “one where Mom thinks she is in control of everything.”)

We have hit on something here! A mother’s unrealistic outlook can create bad circumstances—one for herself, and one for her family. From such an artificial scenario, a tired, sad mom—and confused, angry children—will emerge. On Mother’s Day, Mom will not hear accolades of, “Thank you, thank you for giving your all to project perfection!” Rather, she will be amazed at the resentment that all those efforts will reap.

Children who live in reality and learn how to accept their imperfect environments are better prepared for life. Herein lies the legacy that our children will be able to vocalize to their children: “Well, I’m going to miss some of the balls that come my way, but I will show up everyday, sincerely focus, and try to connect with each new challenge. And in addition, you—my dear offspring—will have a front row seat to watch how a person can appropriately respond to those missed or messed-up challenges.”

Then, their children—our grandchildren—will grow up and be able to echo the same authentic witness.

More importantly, all these generations will understand the real power behind the successes and how their mothers were able to humbly accept the imperfections of life. This witness takes place when, before they see their mothers step up to the plate, they see them down on their knees.

~ A.R. (Alice) Cecil

Grandma’s Apron

23 Monday Jan 2017

Posted by in childhood memories, generational patterns, generations coming together, Influence of Grandparents, leaving a legacy

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

I received a special Christmas present from my aunt. We share an interest in cooking and baking from scratch, so I suppose it should be no surprise to receive something fitting that theme. The apron is made from a vintage tablecloth and embellished with a vintage hankie. Even though this one-of-a-kind apron isn’t made from my own family’s heirlooms, I like to think there are stories laced in its history (much like the use of quilt squares in the Grandma’s Attic book series I enjoyed as a girl).

In any case, I will weave memories of my own with this apron and one day reminisce with my daughters.

The words below came packaged with my new apron:

002

Grandma’s Apron

I don’t think our kids know what an apron is.

The principal use of Grandma’s apron was to protect the dress underneath, because she only had a few. It was easier to wash aprons than dresses and they used less material.

Along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.

It was wonderful for drying children’s tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears…

From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.

When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids.

And when the weather was cold, grandma wrapped it around her arms.

Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow bent over the hot wood stove.

Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.

From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.

In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.

When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.

When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men-folk knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.

It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that ‘old-time apron’ that served so many purposes.

(Author unknown)

~Christina Slike

Who Am I?

29 Monday Jun 2015

Posted by in frustration to freedom, generational patterns, the healing journey

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

dogwood flowers

I am a result of both nature and nurture. But I have choices, and God is working in me.

We seek to know; this is a God-given desire. One thing we want to know is about ourselves. Why am I so much like my mother? Why is my child so different from me? Would I have been different with a different upbringing? Should I blame my parents or grandparents for who I am and what I am? Why is it so hard to change, even when I see things about myself that need to change?

Studies have revealed the very real possibility that we were 75% of the persons we were going to be when we were born. (Here we are talking in terms of our personalities and genetic predispositions where some traits are an asset and some are not.)

For instance, we came into this world as persons who are extroverts or introverts. The extrovert relishes being in the center of all that is fun. Or he may be the leader of a corporation. Then there are those among us who are introverts and like to spend our days pouring over books. And, how can we forget those dear individuals who are the natural-born peacemakers? Ask any mother: “Did your child come into the world with his or her personality already exhibiting itself?” And she will answer with an emphatic “Yes!”

We cannot change who we are in this regard. I know a woman who jokingly said, “I am a sanguine want-to-be.” She has a beautiful, analytic mind; she has the temperament of a melancholic. She might not be the life of the party, but sit next to her and she’ll have some very interesting things to say. She was joking; I don’t think she really wanted to change herself. In fact, her humorous remark came out of her analytical personality! Would any of us really want to change who we are? If we think about it, everything about God’s design for us fits; it is just right for the persons God made us to be.

However, if the influences in the childhood home or culture are unhealthy, then the strength of the personality can become a weakness. The extrovert, who had the potential of being a servant-leader in the home or at the office, can become the boss. The introvert can shut himself off from all people. And the peacemaker can become a doormat.

For example, the peacemaker may trade reality for denial. He may think this is a very noble approach, but the rest of us are left sniffing daisies, as he calls them roses. “This flower sure does smell sweet!” he will say, and we may feel forced to agree. (Have I just described the living room where the elephant got to claim most of the space?)

When receiving new life through faith in Jesus Christ, we are made ready to be transformed by the Lord’s working in our lives and hearts. God not only designed our personalities, he stands ready to shape them! “Our old self was crucified with Christ” (Romans 6:6). The “old self” includes not only our own sin, but also any unhealthy influences on God’s intended purposes for us. We can experience increasing freedom from the power of harmful, negative influences that have hindered us from being what God created us to be: more than conquerors (see Romans 8:37).

Just knowing the dynamics of our past, heredity, or personality will not necessarily influence our lives for good or give us power to overcome the negative influences. There is a saying: “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.” This little knowledge—insights about our past and personality—can be a dangerous thing, if we stop there.

By the grace of God, we can flourish as God’s vibrant individuals by pressing on with the personal knowledge of the Lord. There will come a day when we will see that we are exceedingly blessed to be who we are.

~A.R. Cecil

Mom’s Cooking

28 Thursday May 2015

Posted by in childhood memories, generational patterns, leaving a legacy, Remembering Mother, the healing journey

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

cobbler-cooked

photo by Shannon Fitzgerald

The Facebook post revealed a photo of blackberry cobbler just like Mom used to make. That looks SO good! The ingredients suggested it would taste good, too. I decided to give the recipe a try.

Soon, in the grocery store blackberries were plentiful and picture perfect. Would twelve ounces of berries make 2 1/4 cups the recipe called for? I guessed the basket contents were close, and it proved to be the exact amount needed. The other ingredients were on hand, so I measured them exactly, mixed them as directed, and baked my first batch.

It turned out tasty and, to my delight, almost as good as Mom’s. I tweaked the recipe twice until it was almost perfect. Unless you’ve tried to reproduce your mother’s cooking and missed the mark, you won’t be able to appreciate the sense of victory that came with that final cobbler.

My mother let me watch her bake, but she never told me exactly how to make goodies like hers. She’d say it took “a little bit of this and a little bit of that,” which made it impossible to translate onto a recipe card. Friends of mine have expressed frustration at the same lack of clear instructions from their mothers. Our moms had the magic “touch.”

Reflecting on her talent, I realized what a high standard she set and that I unconsciously compared my cooking to hers when I’d ask, Was that lemon filling too sweet or too tart? Was the crust flaky or tough? Were the vegetables done at the same time the roast was ready?

Today we eat differently than Mother did on the farm or I did growing up. Today people lead more sedentary lives, eat less fat and sugar, more fruits and vegetables. Therefore, our children may not remember us for our cooking prowess.

What will they remember us for? What will they try to emulate?

I hope our children will remember that we tried to follow God’s recipes and instructions exactly. And when there weren’t specific instructions, we did what the law of love seemed to suggest. I hope they understand that not everything we attempted met God’s high standards, that there were times we had to tweak our behavior, grateful that Christ removed our mistakes so God could be pleased with the results. I hope they agree that following Him leads to an abundant life.

I’m so grateful our children have tasted and seen that the Lord is good. They have excellent ingredients to work with and the same instructions to follow. Their results won’t be the same as ours; but if they keep following Christ, they will have abundant lives, too. I pray they become gourmet Christians in their generation.

~Ellen Cardwell

When Your Mother Believes in You

10 Sunday May 2015

Posted by in childhood memories, encouraging each other, generational patterns, leaving a legacy, Mother's Day, Motherhood, Remembering Mother

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , ,

Cathy-Jeanne-Beach

Here I’m making sand castles on the beach with my mother when I was a young child. She always encouraged my dreams.

Having a child defines us for the rest of our lives…. Each mother-child relationship teaches us our limitations and our strengths. It changes us in constantly unfolding ways and entwines us in the unpredictable mystery of another life….

Our mothers are our first teachers, and we teach others the same lessons we learn from them. As a child, when your mother believes in you, you believe in yourself, and when that happens there is nothing you can’t do. As a mother, that is the greatest gift we can give to a child.

–from She Walks in Beauty : A Woman’s Journey Through Poems by Caroline Kennedy

Forgiving Yourself — and Your Children

06 Wednesday May 2015

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, confessing our need, forgiving yourself, generational patterns, Guest Post, Parenting, Regret transformed, The power of honest sharing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Woman-at-gas-pump

istock photo

At a gas station many years ago, my preteen daughter ducked her head out of the car window and popped me a question.

“What would you say if I came home pregnant?”

I was glad for the pump to hang on to and the exercise of filling the tank to divert my eyes. Since she was too young to be sexually active, I didn’t faint at that prospect. However, this was a moment I knew would eventually come, so I said, “Well, my darling, not much … because that’s exactly what I did.”

You see, that pubescent girl was once the precious baby I had carried as an unwed mother.

It was time for me to share a major mistake I had made in my youth, which she accepted without comment. (Later we could talk about the deeper ramifications.) There is never a text book time or place to share these kinds of things; but when the question is asked, it should be answered appropriately, according to the child’s level of understanding.

At the gas pump, I had a choice to deny the truth, dodge the question, or in terror of the same thing happening to her, lay down the law. I’m so glad I did not lose the opportunity to show the grace and goodness of a God who redeems every circumstance, because …

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28*).

God’s ability to turn our darkest moments into good tells me that He is God and I am not. Julian of Norwich, the fourteenth-century mystic wrote, “Though the soul’s wounds heal, the scars remain. God sees them not as blemishes but as honors.”

After years of hiding my soul’s scars, it was such an utter relief and joy to relinquish the protection of my own reputation. In all the years I ministered to women, I only rarely and selectively offered full disclosure, for fear that others would think less of me. (My righteousness was in my works, not in Christ.)

A close friend shared with me a few years ago that when her son was getting married and would then gain possession of his birth certificate, her husband, the father, wanted to somehow have the young man’s birth certificate changed to reflect a full nine months from the wedding until the date of the boy’s birth. This saddened her for it spoke much more about her husband’s lack of confidence in a God of forgiveness and restoration than about hiding timelines from a son conceived out of wedlock. Chances are pretty high that their son had already figured it out, anyway.

So long as we mothers have not forgiven ourselves for our past misdeeds and sins, we’ll certainly never be able to fully forgive our children for their blunders. At times, our children’s choices may leave us stunned. When your children mess up, don’t reach for the hair shirt or beat yourself up for failing. Our children are free agents and must make choices of their own. But God is there when we can’t be. And while it is appropriate that we pray for God to keep our children from evil, or at the very least take them out of the circumstances, He often permits them to travel through the storms. But remember, He also is able to deliver them—safe, though scarred; secure, though shaken; and wiser, though wounded.

Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture” (Romans 8*).

Mothers, both you and your children will make mistakes. Bring them to our heavenly Parent, who is in the business of forgiveness and restoration. He makes no mistakes!

*Scriptures quoted from The Message

Alice Scott-Ferguson is a Scottish-born freelance writer, author, and motivational speaker who lives in Arizona. She writes from her heart as a wife, mother, grandmother, and Christ-follower. Among other books, she is the author of Mothers Can’t Be Everywhere, But God Is : A Liberating Look at Motherhood, from which this post is extracted.

A Mother With Alzheimer’s

15 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by in emotional needs, generational patterns, the healing journey, when mom has alzheimer's

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , ,

Dorothy&TwinsPasadena

“Can a mother forget … the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!” (Isaiah 49:15, NIV).

I was in my thirties the day I was visiting my Grandma (pictured above as a young woman holding her firstborn twins). Now in her eighties, she lived alone since Grandpa had died. I lived close enough to enjoy occasional lunch-time visits with Grandma, and she always delighted in giving me news updates on all her family members (many of whom were in the pastoral ministry). That day I didn’t come for lunch, as one of her greatest joys—serving delicious meals to guests—had become too taxing for her.

This day I sat on her living-room couch. She stood nearby, pointing to a photo atop the old, upright piano.

“They tell me that’s my daughter. But I don’t know her,” Grandma told me.

“Grandma! That’s Aunt Cathy. She’s my daddy’s twin sister. She’s your eldest daughter,” I cried.

Grandma had always been so strong, bright, and capable. When things like this started happening, it took the family a while to catch on. Finally, one day one of my aunts received a call. Grandma had been found wandering, lost in a neighborhood quite a distance from her home. She was carrying Sunday School literature that she had the idea she should take to people in this new neighborhood. But she became disoriented, confused, frightened, and dehydrated.

It was not easy to get her out of her home, take away her independence, and finally have to place her in an Alzheimer’s facility. She resisted and we wondered what happened to our sweet, loving mother and grandmother. But with proper, secure living arrangements and medical care, she lived into her nineties. Though she could no longer say our names or remember anything since her childhood, and we struggled to make sense of the things she said to us, her face always lit up when she saw us coming. She knew we were “hers” and she seemed encouraged by our visits.

My father drove down from another state to visit her as often as he could.

In these situations we often ask, “Why, Lord? What good could possibly result from this?”

It was hardest for my aunts. But my dad actually received a beautiful, healing experience during his visits to his mother.

After she got past the belligerent stage many go through in early Alzheimer’s, the traits that came to the fore were her ministry mindset (she had been a pastor’s wife) and concern for other people. Her mind decided that if all these people had gathered in one place, it must be a church gathering or campmeeting time. And all these people would need to be fed! She talked about getting a bunch of chickens and putting them in a big pot to cook for these hungry people who were milling in the halls and sitting in the common areas.

Grandma had worked hard all her life. Daddy had probably never before had opportunities to just sit with his mother and be with her. I tell in Journeys to Mother Love about Grandma being “different” as a child because her father was half American Indian; about her beauty and gentleness but stoicism. How she never held Daddy on her lap as a small child. (He tells me he has no memory of being hugged or ever told the words, “I love you.”)

Now, after Alzheimer’s took away Grandma’s inhibitions, she sat close to him and reached over and held his hand. Even though she couldn’t say his name or talk about common memories, my father, now in his mid-sixties, experienced for the first time these expressions of mother love. A healing balm was applied to the painful memories of an emotionally-crippling childhood.

Our Lord is working through everything in our lives to bring us healing and wholeness. As our heavenly parent, he never forgets. He is ever mindful of us, ever reaching for us, ever expressing His love, even through the unlikely means of a terrible disease like Alzheimer’s.

~Catherine Lawton

A Journey to Brother Love, Part 2

09 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by in confessing our need, emotional needs, encouraging each other, family gatherings, generational patterns, God's healing love, reconciliation, the healing journey

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

With my brothers in 2014

My brother and I with our half-brother (center) in 2014

In the post, A Journey to Brother Love, Part 1, I shared how as an adult I was shocked to learn I had a half-brother. I only met him once, 18 years ago. The opportunity arose to meet him again recently. I didn’t want any regrets, so I traveled to see him.

From the moment we were reunited, my brother was friendly and open, even greeting me with a hug. It felt very welcoming. He is a charming and engaging man. Yet for me, the time spent together was surreal.

What do you say? How do you communicate with a brother who was raised by maternal grandparents since he was two years old because his mother died and he was abandoned by his father (my father)?

Does he even want relationship with me (us)? After all, we were the chosen family.

My parents were married for 17 years before they divorced. I was nine years old at the time. I had my own wounds. It took me years to work through them and forgive my father.

My brother is on his own journey of healing and forgiveness—as are each of us five siblings, from three different marriages. We share the same father and the same DNA, but we all have carried different wounds from the generational curse of abandonment in our family.

I don’t have any wounds related to my half-brother, only compassion for what he endured and experienced, not knowing his earthly father. He has had to come to terms with two dramatically different tales of his abandonment.

Where was he on the spectrum of forgiveness and healing, I wondered.

Except for one private conversation we had where he recounted to me the story of his miraculous reunion with my father after 52 years of separation, our conversations weren’t really about that. I listened as he talked about his previous marriage and painful trials with his adult children. Every time he talked I could see and hear my father in him. My half-brother wasn’t raised by him, but my father is unmistakably in his DNA.

At the end of our visit, I still didn’t have the answers I sought. So I invited him and his wife to walk me into the train station to say our goodbyes. I didn’t want any regrets. I prayed and let my heart lead the way.

The conversation that ensued was perfectly ordained by the Lord. It started off tearful for me as I admitted I am a sentimental person. I think we both said what we needed to say and cleared the air about our own personal father wounds. I already knew I wasn’t alone in my struggle to overcome my past, and I wanted him to know he wasn’t either.

The icing on the cake for me was being able to share with him my sense that our father was at peace in heaven. Shortly after Dad died, I had a poignant spiritual encounter in church while praying. Shortly after that, Dad acknowledged that he hadn’t “been there” for me. The veil had been lifted for him and his denial was gone. That encounter was very comforting to me, and I hoped sharing the memory with my brother would bring him some healing and closure also.

So was my family visit for my healing, or my brother’s healing? I think it was for us both.

My journey with my new-found brother is just beginning. It took my Journey to Mother Love followed by my Journey to Father Love to find it. When our journeys are bathed in our Heavenly Father’s love, it will end with healing and hope; because His DNA is what really binds us on our pathway to wholeness.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

A Journey to Brother Love, Part 1

09 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by in emotional needs, family gatherings, generational patterns, God's healing love, letting go of anger, reach out and touch, reconciliation, the healing journey

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

1996 Reunion

With my father and brothers in 1996

Recently a new pathway of healing opened up to me: a “journey to brother love.”

My father married many times and had children from multiple wives—my siblings being the last. I grew up knowing about an older half-sister, but never met her. I didn’t know about a half-brother I had until 18 years ago when my father reunited with him after 52 years of separation.

I was in my early 30s, just starting my own family when my father called to tell me about my half-brother. It was an ‘Oprah’ type story of amazing coincidences that led to their reunion.

I felt like my world had been turned upside down.

My father invited me and another sibling to meet him. The half-brother lived across country and was making a trip to our area. I eagerly obliged, or maybe obeyed is a better word. This was in my pre-recovery days when I was still holding onto the past, carrying a lot of anger, and searching for my father’s love. Now I had to share that love with some long-lost family member.  My resentment must’ve leaked through in that one and only meeting.

My father remained in close contact with his new-found son over the years. They had several cross-country visits. I occasionally heard of their trips together. Each time I nursed my internal pangs: “But what about me?”

Since that time, I’ve spent many years of healing and recovery work to get to a place of forgiveness and love for my father. My dad even helped with some family history while I was working on the final draft of my story in Journeys to Mother Love. Unfortunately, he passed away a month before the book was released.

My half-brother couldn’t make it to our father’s memorial service. My stepmother (not his mother), ordered an autographed copy for me to send to my brother’s wife. I had experienced even more healing and forgiveness with my father wound with his passing. With that fresh perspective, I decided to send a letter to my brother, along with the book.

Here’s an excerpt from that letter: “I think each of his (my father’s) children carry a distinct Smith* mark in their DNA that we had to overcome as his children. And just because we had more physical time living with him, it doesn’t mean we didn’t carry familial scars. I say this to you in the hopes that you won’t let any of those feelings get in the way of continuing to stay connected with this family.”

Soon I received a nice note from his wife telling me how much she loved the book and that my story touched her as she grieved the recent loss of her mother. We continued our communications, but there was no direct response from my brother.

Then a few weeks ago I got a call from my stepmother that my half-brother and his wife were going to be in town. I was invited to come home for a visit. At first I declined due to an already full schedule. But thoughts of my brother and our disjointed family connection kept surfacing.

Did I need more healing or was it for my brother? I needed to know.

So I set aside my work and hopped on a train across the state.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of this post to find out how this Journey to Brother Love ends.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

*Surname changed to protect family privacy.

Mental Illness and Relationships

15 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by in emotional needs, generational patterns, God's healing love, grief and loss, the healing journey

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , ,

Ocean-waves-Bodega

Suicide has touched us all in some way, even if it’s seeing the stories and feeling the sadness of a celebrity suicide such as Robin Williams’.

For me it’s more personal, since in the past year my husband and I lost both a relative and a friend to suicide. There are still hurts and unanswered questions.

Much is being said about mental illness, addictions, and suicide by both secular and religious pundits and bloggers.

In her story in the book, Journeys to Mother Love, Ardis Nelson tells of the pain of having a mentally-ill mother. Ardis writes:

“Mom was given shock treatments and she was never the same after that. … Diagnosed with schizophrenia [she] was in and out of mental hospitals. For my own sense of sanity, I kept her at a distance. I didn’t trust what she told me. I pretty much wrote off my mother. It was just too painful to be her daughter. All I could ‘see’ was that she was crazy. … Growing up, I internalized the subtle messages that my emotions were not something I should share and in fact, that if I did, there must be something wrong with me — like my mother.  Fearful of becoming crazy, I learned to shut down my emotions and not share them with anyone.”

Ardis goes on to tell how the opportunity came, at the end of her mother’s life, for healing in their relationship. This opened the door for even wider and deeper healing in Ardis’s life.

In the isolation and pain that depression, mental illness, and suicidal thoughts can cause, what is needed is openness, communication, honest words.

God, help us be bridges of mercy to others.

In her blog two days ago, Ann Voskamp expressed this need — and her own experience with a mentally-ill mother — eloquently. You may want to click there and read her words, and open your heart to grace, and beauty, and hope:

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2014/08/what-the-church-christians-need-to-know-about-suicide-mental-health/

~Catherine

The “Facts of Life”

16 Wednesday Jul 2014

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, childhood memories, emotional needs, feeling inadequate, generational patterns, Parenting

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, ,

Two people in love

My mother and father when they were engaged to be married – 1948

My mother once confided in me that until she got married, she thought you could get pregnant by kissing. This led to unnecessary feelings of guilt and fear. I’m sure her wedding night corrected this faulty information, because nine months later I was born!

By the time my sister and I had boyfriends that we were kissing, she worried whether she had told us all we needed to know to keep from getting pregnant before we were married. For sure, she hadn’t told us much. She had bought a book for teenage girls written by a recommended Christian author and told us each to read it. She never talked with us about it. Maybe she thought if we had questions, we’d come to her. The basic explanations in the book did clarify some things but also got my imagination going and made me more curious; but somehow I couldn’t bring my questions to my mother.

As you can tell from the photo above (of my mom and dad just before they were married), she was a fun and loving person. But I doubt if her parents had taught her much about the “facts of life.” Maybe folks back then assumed the kids would pick up the necessary facts by being around farm animals. And maybe the adults didn’t want to “put ideas” into the kids’ heads. Or maybe, in their own shame, discomfort, and lack of information, they were too uncomfortable to talk about “it.”

I can’t say I did a whole lot better with my children. And now they have children who are preteens and need loving explanations and guidance. There’s such a fine balance between not wanting to give them more information than they’re ready for, but giving them the answers they need at each stage of their growth.

When it comes to teaching children about sex in marriage, I think the best teaching parents can give is by example. As a teenager, lying in my bed with my bedroom door closed, sometimes I could hear my parents down the hall of our small house, in bed behind their closed door. And they would be laughing, murmuring, giggling, obviously enjoying each other.

That didn’t sound like anything to be ashamed or afraid of. It sounded like companionship, mutual affection and pleasure, something right and good. And I knew that was what I wanted.

~Catherine

 

THE GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT

26 Thursday Jun 2014

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, childhood memories, emotional needs, expectations, forgiving mom, forgiving yourself, generational patterns, God's healing love, Jesus on the cross, letting go of anger, rejecting lies, the healing journey

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

flowers, mountain sillouette, and sunset

flowers, mountain silhouette, and sunset

The four of us sat in the dining room of the nursing home. Two of us had cars in the parking lot; we were free to leave any time. The other two occupied wheelchairs because their legs would not support the weight of their bodies and their minds would not support a plan as simple as how to exit the building.

I was one of the ones who would be leaving. Usually I am the only non-resident who is sitting at my mother’s table in the dining hall, but this day the daughter of another lady had come to visit. The two of us carried on a conversation between the bits and pieces of attention that we gave our mothers, those bits and pieces being all our mothers could receive.

Then, out of the blue, the other daughter made a statement. “This one,” she said, as she gestured with a sideways nod toward her mother. (“This one”! Had she just called her mother “this one”? I thought.) “Kept a perfect house,” the other daughter continued. “Beds had to be made every morning. Twice a year we had to clean everything from the ceilings to the floors.”

I looked at the woman’s mother. She is younger than my mother by 15-20 years, but oxygen tubes trailed from her nostrils. My mother, who is now 99 years old, was going strong 15-20 years ago. The lady with the oxygen tubes was oblivious to her daughter’s comment. My mind scanned its reservoir of information, searching for an appropriate response to the other daughter’s comment. (My knee-jerk reaction was, I wish my childhood home had been tidier; but I did not tell her that. My next thought was, I wonder if my children think I cared too much about the cleanliness and order? But, of course, I didn’t air that question either.) The moment passed for lack of feedback, and the conversation moved in another direction.

Soon the visit ended. It was time for my mother’s nap. I exited the building to my car in the parking lot. In the car on the way back to accomplish the rest of my list of errands, my thoughts were drawn back to the table in the dining hall. Is there anybody who wishes his or her childhood was different, and therefore, better?

It is impossible to make a perfect home, to be a perfect mother, or to be a perfect child. But that’s what our minds seem to be set on: Perfect. We really think we can accomplish perfect, or we can go through life “bent out of shape” because our childhood home was not the version of perfect we were longing to have. I know there are varying degrees of imperfection, and some people have huge hurdles to overcome.

However, we have a heavenly Father who covers us in grace. After Adam and Eve sinned, God covered them with the skins of animals. Those animals were the first creatures to know death. That act of love was a foreshadowing of the supreme act of covering with grace by the death of God’s Son, Jesus, on a cross.

God’s grace is the only way we can break the cycle of hurt—anger—hurt—anger—hurt. We might not be able to control very much in our lives, or accomplish a long list of achievements. But, we can accomplish—I believe—the greatest achievement. We can be the generation in our family that chooses to break those negative cycles for our family. We do this by forgiving and “covering each other with grace.”

~A.R. (Alice) Cecil

What Was Written in Father’s Eyes

15 Sunday Jun 2014

Posted by in childhood memories, emotional needs, generational patterns, Parenting, reach out and touch, the healing journey

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , ,

Ships on the Sea

Today on Father’s Day I’m thinking about family relationships. I believe we all have a strong desire, perhaps a need, to know and be known by significant others in our lives. But so many things can get in the way of really knowing someone (and letting them know us). I’m talking about knowing who we really are inside: our dreams, our disappointments, our hopes, our memories, our beliefs, our motivations.

Even the people we live with, including those who gave birth to us and raised us, and have lived with us day and night for years, can remain largely a mystery. The pain that comes from being practical strangers to those we are closest to, is a pain that people can carry even into old age.

A.R. (Alice) Cecil describes this type of relationship with her father and mother when she was a little girl. In her story “Run, Run as Fast As You Can” from the book, Journeys to Mother Love, she writes:

In recent years, I have learned my father saw unbelievable atrocities while overseas and came back a different man than the husband of four months, who left when Pearl Harbor became his call to bear arms. He never spoke of the war, but its effect must have been what was written in his eyes. There was a far-off look that I noticed when he thought no one was looking. Was the look in his eyes a result of what he left behind on the front or what he returned to find?

In my mother’s heart were sorrows he could not have understood. My parents belonged to a generation that did not talk about their feelings. So, my father did what he could and lived by reading seed catalogs in the winter and planting tomatoes in the spring. My part was to simply trail along, not asking any questions or breaking into wherever his thoughts had taken him. 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. If he ever had, I would have told him, “I know you work really hard and you don’t have time for fun, but I just want you to know how much I love you.” Instead, all I could do was trail along behind him…

Instinctively, I knew my role in life was to be good. How could I possibly add to my mother’s or father’s pain?

It’s not too late. Today let’s “turn and acknowledge” those around us, listen to them, find out what makes them tick. Let them know “where our thoughts have taken us.” Take “time for fun.” Say “I love you.” And let them see windows into our souls.

~Catherine Lawton

Generations of Blessing

05 Wednesday Feb 2014

Posted by in generational patterns, God as our parent, Gratitude, importance of prayer, Influence of Grandparents, leaving a legacy, the healing journey

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

Grandchild-1A few years ago, when my daughter-in-law was pregnant with our first grandchild, I sat in church as she and our son participated in the worship team—David playing guitar and Hannah singing. I thought of the baby Hannah was carrying—just past her first trimester. I watched the parents-to-be standing before the Lord and the congregation pouring forth the praise, proclaiming their faith with all their energies, their hearts, their voices.

It dawned on me that the baby—who by now had formed arms and legs—would be sensing this devotion and somehow experiencing the glory and presence of God.

Gratitude and joy rose within me, and the Lord assured my heart that His hand was already on that child as it has been on past generations; that the devotion and faithfulness of the parents would bear fruit in the children, again.

When my mother carried me, she and Daddy—just 20 and 25 years old—were preaching and praying and singing and piano playing. Honestly, I think the “language” of music and prayer were the first languages with which I became familiar.

Twenty-four years later I carried David and, during those nine months, often sat at the piano playing classical music, church music, choir music, and quartet music. My husband was singing; we were often in the midst of praying. And though we had struggles within and without, our faith was bedrock, rooted in “the ground of our being,” deeper even than the dark, moist bed of new life, the womb.

And now it comes to me like a revelation that God is continuing His faithfulness, His friendship with us—to the next generation, to our grandchildren! What a reward, what a hope, what a comfort, what a joy!

Alone at home the next day, Monday, I thought on this again, and the Holy Spirit moved my heart to rejoice and weep and pray for this new life. A sort of sing-song prayer came to me, and I wrote the words out in poem form:

God Bless the Baby
~
Oh, sweet baby,
Little baby Lawton,
Baby, do you hear it?
Hear your mama singing?
Hear your daddy praying?
Baby, do you hear them?
Blessed little baby.
~
God bless Hannah;
Bless her little baby.
Let it hear the singing,
Hear her heart’s devotion;
Make the Maker real,
Present every moment.
~
God bless David;
Bless his little baby.
Let it hear the praying,
Hear the strong assurance,
Feel the Father’s nearness,
There for His baby.
~
Oh, sweet baby,
Little baby Lawton,
Baby, do you hear it?
Hear your daddy singing?
Hear your mama praying?
Baby, do you hear them?
God bless the baby.
~
Amen.

~

–Catherine Lawton

Leaving a Legacy of Healing

25 Saturday Jan 2014

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

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Evening Light on the Grasses

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