Tag Archives: Gratitude

Faith in the Birthing Room

04 Wednesday May 2016

Posted by in God's love and Mother love, importance of prayer, Motherhood

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   ChristinaAndBreanna

We see photos on Facebook of young mothers, with or without makeup, with perspiration-frazzled hair, holding a red, swaddled newborn. The new mom smiles. Proud hubby hovers. Grandparents flash cameras and send out announcements on cell phones.

I’ve experienced this first-hand. 24 months ago I was present as my daughter gave birth. Her pregnancy had complications, the doctor was concerned for safety of both mother and child; but finally a healthy baby made her entrance; and oh, what joy and thankfulness we felt.

What could be more awe-inspiring than the birth of a new life? Nothing compares to the expectancy, intensity, and thrill of witnessing a baby enter this world with wiggles and cries. You can almost hear the flutter of angel wings and the melody of heavenly bells ringing as the Creator gives breath to a new little person full of promise. When the child is desired and welcomed with love, the birthing room almost becomes a holy sanctuary.

As I stood by during my daughter’s labor, feeling helpless—then as I helped during delivery by holding one of my daughter’s knees—I was breathing prayers and praises. My daughter was too absorbed in breathing and pushing to do much praying herself.

But since she started carrying this child—when she had chosen not to accept the doctor’s offer of “terminating the risky pregnancy”—she had been putting her hope and trust in God’s help. During those nine months we watched a tumor shrink enough to allow room for the baby to grow; then it moved out of the way to allow the baby to enter the birth canal.

Awareness of the Lord’s presence and help bonded our little family group. We appreciated the clinical efficiency of the attending physician, interns and nurses. I couldn’t help thinking, though, how wonderful it would be if everyone in the room was a believer and open about their faith and dependence on the Lord. I’d like to have soft, beautiful worship music playing, someone gently reciting a Psalm, all participants aware of, and responsive to, the Lord’s presence; bathing the process in prayer; welcoming the child with praise and thanks to her Creator.

That would be heavenly. “Heavenly” is probably not how anyone would describe a hospital room. But God was present and He showed Himself mighty and loving. The medical personnel—whether Christian believers or not—were used of God as He answered prayer and gave us a beautiful, healthy baby.

~Catherine Lawton

A Grateful Lesson in Letting go of our Children

22 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by in challenges of motherhood, expectations, Gratitude, importance of prayer, Motherhood, Parenting, Thanksgiving

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Letting go of our children reaps a harvest in unexpected ways.

As much as I want it too, time doesn’t stand still. In fact as we age I’ve found that it actually seems to move at a faster pace. Kids grow up, graduate from college, leave the nest, and settle into a new life as they seek independence and start a career or family.

Whether our children choose to live nearby, across the state, or across the country, we will be faced with challenges to our parenting and our ability to let go.

It’s a timeless lesson in love and sacrifice.

My older son graduated from college a few years ago and, because of a lucrative job offer, immediately moved out of state. There was no time for transition between the two major milestones.

It was a crazy time for my husband and me as parents. We experienced the pride of his graduation and excitement for his new life. We packed up all of his belongings and settled him into his new apartment. Then we had to face the tearful goodbyes.

Those first few months were pretty rough on all of us. Our son expressed his dissatisfaction with being so far away from his friends and family.  It was hard for him at work—starting over as the low man on the totem pole and learning the technical aspects of his job and the organizational culture. I think if he hadn’t been bound by a two-year employment contract, he would’ve seriously considered moving back home.

He recently made an expected visit to our area, and surprised his father on his birthday. I don’t think he realized what a gift that was to our family—away from the normal holiday rush that soon awaits us. For that one day it felt as if he had never left home—like one of his visits home from college.

In our short time together, I was struck with his maturity and the dramatic change in his demeanor. He said someone at work told him that the first six months on the job would be the worst. Well, he survived that and is now applying for a one-year assignment in another country. That’s quite a shift for someone who had a hard time looking beyond his present circumstances as a new employee.

As we talked about his life in his new home state, I also noticed his maturity in other ways. He was making adult decisions, making new friends, learning more about himself, his likes and dislikes.

Then it hit me. Our letting go had given him a chance to find his own way. Letting go had been a process. In occasional conversations during this time, his father and I had offered our encouragement and support. We came to trust our son to make his own decisions and for God to guide him (and us) along the way.

We sacrifice for our children in so many ways when they are young—our time, commitment, and finances. We pour our love and our hearts into them, hoping and praying that they will become wise and godly stewards of their time and talents.

Through it all, I know this to be true: they grow up way too fast, but letting go always reaps a harvest in some unexpected way.

In parenting our children and preparing them for adulthood, we can be grateful for these unexpected blessings from Above.

What lesson have you learned in letting go of your children?

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Serendipity on Grandparents Day

29 Thursday Oct 2015

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

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My grandson

Caden in a school program last year, dressed up as Andrew Jackson and reading a history report to an audience of parents and grandparents

One of the perks of living close to grandchildren is the privilege of attending their school programs. And once a year the local public schools host a “Grandparents Day” when they invite grandparents into their grandchild’s classroom for an hour to sit with them, meet the teacher, tour the school, and observe a little of the educational process. Yesterday my husband and I went to our grandson Caden’s classroom, along with many other proud grandmas and grandpas. We were impressed with the order and the creativity we observed, the energy and dedication of the teacher, the smiles on the children’s faces.

But I didn’t expect to be “part of the program.”

A week or so ago I received a letter in the mail written by Caden and mailed from the school. The teacher had given the students an assignment to write a letter to a grandparent asking about their family traditions when they were kids. You can believe I found the letter delightful. I gave the request thought. We do, of course, want to pass on a legacy to our grandchildren and share our histories with them; but the challenge comes in finding the right time and means (and “the teachable moment”).

I kept my reply short and hand-written, giving a few details from my childhood, then mailed it to Caden. I did wonder whether the teacher would see it, and what she would do with it.

Then yesterday, as I sat at Caden’s desk in a third-grade classroom full of boys and girls and grandmas and grandpas, I was surprised when the teacher explained about the letters. She held in her hand the response I had sent to Caden. Then she called Caden forward to read my letter to the class! He did so—loudly, clearly and happily. This “blew me away,” as they say.

Here is what I wrote and Caden read:

Dear Caden,

Thank you for asking about my family traditions. When I was a girl my father was a preacher, so many of our traditions happened at church, with special services on Christmas and Easter. There was exciting music, lots of people, and the children had special parts. I usually got a new dress on those holidays. And my mother cooked delicious dinners. My favorite Sunday dinner was fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy.

Every year I looked forward to two big events: Christmas and summer camp! We also celebrated Thanksgiving. I loved the smell of Turkey dinner roasting in the oven. My sister, Beverly, and I kept asking, “Is it done yet?” To help us wait, Daddy encouraged us to make lists of all the things we were thankful for. Even today, when I’m feeling impatient, it helps to stop and think of the things I’m thankful for. Today, grandchildren are at the top of my list!

Love, Grandma

Most days we don’t wake up with the thought, “How can I show the world I’m a Christian—and the difference faith in Jesus makes—today?” We just live life and let Him lead. And the same goes for passing on to the next generations our values, faith, and life lessons learned.

Sometimes the opportunities come in serendipitous ways.

~Catherine Lawton

Compassion~ An Upside of Tragedy

19 Saturday Sep 2015

Posted by in encouraging each other, grief and loss, reach out and touch, the healing journey, when tragedy hits

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Yesterday, a woman in a rural area of Northern California, where communities and farmers have been stricken by the devastating wildfires, shared her video of help arriving. I’m used to people sharing videos on Facebook, and I often scroll right past them. But when a dear friend posted this video on my wall yesterday, I was compelled to watch it, and my heart was touched on several levels.

The woman who recorded this video was expressing her amazement and thanks for the people from nearby North Lake County and Humboldt County (Fortuna, Ferndale and Eureka)— who caravaned over the hills, south and east to fire-striken Middletown, bringing truckloads of clothing, toiletries, pet food, farm animal feed, hay for horses and cattle, as well as farm equipment and relief workers. Watch the joyful arrival here:

 

My friend shared this with me because she knew my husband’s family has deep roots in the village of Ferndale and I lived during my youth in Fortuna (which was part of my story in Journeys to Mother Love). When my husband and I go back to visit that rugged and beautiful region, we are reminded of the resilience and strength of the people there who have suffered many natural disasters (extreme floods and earthquakes) as well as lasting economic downturns. Those folk know what it’s like to lose so much and be so grateful when help comes. Now they are jumping at the chance to give back.

Experiencing this generosity of spirit truly is an up side of going through such loss as the fire victims have. I relate to this partly because of my own experience as a young child when our house burned down in the night. We lost everything and were “homeless” and dependent on others for a while. But, in spite of the effects of the trauma of barely escaping from a burning house, I am thankful to have experienced the overwhelming outpouring of love and generosity, from the community and from area churches, toward our little family.

This personal video posted on Facebook (with a public setting) definitely touched a nerve with me. I know, there is always more to every story. And we may never know “the rest of the story” of this particular person who took the video. But we can have our hearts lifted by her very real and immediate response to compassionate help arriving on the scene of her need and the needs of her community. And that gives us a glimpse of the goodness that still exists in this world.

The sometimes-uncomfortable but inescapable fact is that compassion is often developed in extremely difficult situations and life experiences.

My prayer: “Lord, help me grow stronger in grace and compassion, more resilient and giving, as a result of the batterings of this life. Thank you for the surprises of help and encouragement you bring along the way.”

~Catherine Lawton

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

To Our Followers: THANKS and a TIP (Free Book Drawing)

10 Thursday Oct 2013

Posted by in Gratitude, the healing journey

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I and all the contributors to this blog appreciate everyone who has chosen to “follow” our posts by clicking the link on the right of this page. We want to say,

 Thank You!

Here’s a tip for all our faithful followers:

The publisher of our book, Journeys to Mother Love, is holding a drawing for free copies of their new releases during their 2013 “Fall Book Fling.” This week the drawing is for the Christian novel, Gadly Plain. I wrote a post about this book a while back. The next drawing will be for Unwrapping Wonder: Finding Hope in the Gift of Nature. After that, copies of three audio books will be offered. Last but not least in the Fall Book Fling will be That Was the Best Christmas! by one of our Journeys to Mother Love authors and bloggers, A.R. (Alice) Cecil.

Click here to enter your name in the current free-book drawing. Check back regularly and enter each drawing during Oct – Dec.

We hope you’ll continue to journey with us. Together we’ll share experiences of healing and forgiveness in our relationships; encourage each other, as we share heartaches, challenges and joys; and learn and grow in our capacity to love God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength, and to love others as ourselves.

~Catherine Lawton

Filling the Jar with Rocks

29 Monday Apr 2013

Posted by in encouraging each other, Gratitude, reach out and touch, show love by serving

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 Rocks in a Jar

Ever since my “invest in people” nudge from the Lord referenced in “Walking My Mother Home,” I’ve paid more attention to those little nudges. Following that first nudge has led to dramatic changes in my life including my friendship with Rosa, Pedro’s mother, and my one-on-one investing in others who God puts on my path.

This is the story of a recent people investment that had profound results.

I was pleasantly surprised a few weeks ago when I got a call from Sandra, a new friend my husband and I met at a marriage workshop we recently attended in California. My surprise turned to sadness when I heard her brother had passed away. Sandra had dropped everything to fly to Washington State to see him before he died. On that short trip she hadn’t had time to meet with me, but would be back in town for the memorial service.

A few weeks passed and I was surprised to see that the memorial service was scheduled at the country club a mile from my house. Initially Sandra had hoped we would connect over a cup of coffee, but her time was filled with family obligations. That was perfectly understandable.

Regardless of that, I knew I would go to the memorial service. I didn’t know Sandra’s brother. I didn’t know her family. I barely knew her. Yet after an intensive weekend together in couples’ counseling sessions, we already had a heart connection. I didn’t consider not going.

After hugs on my arrival, she seated me next to a relative and bravely took her position up front with the immediate family. As the service started, I felt a nudge to record the proceedings. That isn’t totally out of character for me. My digital recorder is an indispensable tool for my writing. I didn’t really give it a second thought.

Family members read letters filled with sweet stories and memories of Sandra’s brother. The chaplain shared a story (author unknown) about sand, pebbles and rocks filling up a jar. The point of the metaphor was that the rocks are the important things in our lives—the people and things we can’t replace—and that we should make them a priority. If we fill our lives (the jar) with the unimportant things in life (the sand and pebbles) we won’t have room for the rocks. It was a fitting reflection to end the service.

When Sandra and I connected after the service, she mentioned how disappointed she was that her elderly mother couldn’t attend the service. She so wanted to have the service recorded but there were family objections to that.

“Really? That’s so sad,” I said. I felt goosebumps as I remembered I had recorded the service. I confessed my transgression to her. She was thrilled and started to cry. Sandra proceeded to tell me how anxious she had been about that for the past few weeks. My recording was answered prayer for her. It was a kiss from above and a reminder of God’s amazing love for us.

Sandra and I stole some time together on the deck of the clubhouse overlooking the golf course, basking in the warmth of the sun. We caught up on our lives, prayed for each other and reflected on how perfectly God had filled our jars on that very day with what was truly important—time together and the simple gift of following a nudge to invest in people.

What are you filling your jar with?

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Birthday Thankfulness

24 Saturday Nov 2012

Posted by in childhood memories, Gratitude, leaving a legacy, the healing journey

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Thursday was my 53rd birthday, the 8th time in my life that my birthday fell on Thanksgiving. I deliberately carved out (pun intended) a little ‘me’ time to write this post after pondering my birthdays of yesteryear and the day I was born.

I know that my mother was not awake when she gave birth to me. Back then, doctors administered a combination of pain and amnesia medications which would render a woman unconscious during childbirth. My father waited expectantly in the waiting room, probably with other fathers, for word of my birth.

In those days, there were no ultrasounds to ‘preview’ the child’s gender. “It’s a girl!” were likely the first words I heard as I entered the world.

I was named after my father’s sister, who eventually became my godmother. I wasn’t very close to Aunt Ardis. She always lived hundreds or even thousands of miles away throughout my life. She couldn’t have kids of her own, but she was honored to have a niece named after her.

Aunt Ardis died many years ago. Sadly, I was not able to attend her funeral. When her husband, Uncle Edgar, died six years ago, the executor of the estate gave me the opportunity to take some personal belongings for a keepsake. I took the small amount of inheritance I received and flew to their home in Wisconsin to explore the estate. I returned home with a beautiful set of china and some silver pieces that grace my dining room table every holiday.

More than that though was the treasure trove of cards, letters and keepsakes overlooked by other family members who arrived before me. That night in the solitude of my hotel room, I scoured through the pile and was blessed beyond belief as I read letters from my mother to Aunt Ardis, filling her in on my childhood and sending her my school photos. My aunt had every letter and Christmas card I sent her as an adult as well.

I also read through the condolence cards sent to my uncle when she passed away. I really got a feel for who she was, even though I didn’t know her well when she was alive. Being in her home and going through her belongings also gave me a glimpse into myself. Best of all was finding the original birth announcement my parents sent to her decades before. She kept all of my mementos—and in the process, left me a legacy of love!

That trip was a precious gift to me from above. It gave me more wholeness and helped to fill in the gaps of my earthly identity. It is the gifts like this, the ones that touch my heart, that mean the most to me. This Thanksgiving birthday was celebrated with gratitude for the One who has transformed my heart in so many ways over the last few years.  He has redeemed the years that the locusts have eaten (Joel 2:25).

Thank you, Mom, for giving me life. Thank you for investing in me. Healing and wholeness are true gifts to be celebrated on Thanksgiving and everyday.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

“Thank You” ~ The Magic Word

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Posted by in childhood memories, generations coming together, Gratitude, leaving a legacy, Parenting, reach out and touch

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candy dish

When my daughter, Christina, was small I took her weekly to Suzuki violin lessons. After an intensive hour of tuning, fingering, bowing, ear training, phrasing and  performing the musical pieces, the bow was loosened and the half-size violin securely closed into its case. Then the teacher, Mrs. Sloat, would pick up a cut-glass, covered candy dish in which she kept treats for her students. She held the dish in the air with one hand grasping the knob of the crystal lid. She bent close to the little pig-tailed girl, and her elderly face was a picture of captivating anticipation.

“What is the magic word?” she’d ask.

“Please,” said my daughter shyly but eagerly.

Then the lid was lifted off the candy dish and Christina was allowed to choose and take two pieces. But that wasn’t the end of the session yet. Mrs. Sloat held the lid in the air above the dish with another irresistible look of expectancy in her face.

Little Christina knew what was expected. So she said the other magic word: “Thank you.”

Then Mrs. Sloat replaced the glass lid with a soft musical clink and set the candy dish back upon the table, the weekly ceremony completed, and a child trained, motivated, and rewarded.

We teach our small children, from the time they can speak in syllables, to say “thank-you.” We’re pleased when teachers and others support us in that endeavor of encouraging politeness and gratitude in our children. Then, how rewarding it is when they begin to say thank-you all on their own. Magic words indeed!

When your child comes to you with nothing to gain, not asking for anything but expressing unsolicited, heartfelt appreciation, the reward is sweeter than candy to the fine-tuned parental heart.

My husband and I experienced this when our son and then our daughter went away to college. Our training was pretty much completed. Now it would be tested. And there was no guarantee that our children would heed or appreciate the upbringing they received. Doubts plucked at my parental heart: Did we prepare them well enough? Did we teach them all we should have? Will they leave home and embrace a different way?

After a few weeks of college dorm life and hearing about other students’ family situations, our son called home and said, “Mom, Dad, I’m so thankful for you both! I never realized before what good parents I have. Thank you for all you’ve done for me. And for who you are.”

Happy tears came to our eyes as we hung up the phone that day. Love is the reward of love. And hearing your grown children say, “Thank you,” is music to parents’ ears.

English: Hard candy Česky: Tvrde bonbonyBe sure to say “Thank you” to – and for – your mother and father as you are giving thanks to God for all his blessings this Thanksgiving.

~ Catherine Lawton