Habits

It didn't take us long to notice that our boys try to imitate pretty much everything we say and do.

At the beginning of the motherhood trail, I was acutely aware of the stress inducing reality that my children would soon mimic all of my naughty habits for the whole world to see. I could break out in a cold sweat now just thinking of the pressure I felt back then.

I say "back then" because those worries were broken down repeatedly by the Lord over the course of my first two years of motherhood (slow learning curve, remember?) Just that small lesson of living in grace and not by works, living in the Spirit and not by myself....you know, that beautiful concept of God supplying us with the strength and wisdom to follow through with his commands?

Yeah.

It took a long time to learn those things and I am still learning to apply them in different areas of my life.

Back to habits. It was around the beginning of year three that I noticed my children also picking up my good habits. Praise God for showing me that! It was a freeing thing to suddenly know that God was working on me every day and with each refinement, my children were watching the process of ashes turned beautiful.

Today I am celebrating two moments of joy that God granted me this past week. Evidence that He knows my heart and continues to build up my family in His word.

The first happened a few days ago, in our newly constructed book nook. A former closet, cleaned out, door unhinged, and space reclaimed for the reading of books. I found Cubby inside one afternoon. Curled up on a large pillow, dressed in his dragon costume, crayon in one hand, children's bible in the other hand. He was scribbling inside the pages.

The litgeek in me wanted to scream out "DO NOT WRITE IN YOUR BOOKS." But, I don't want them to think of his bible as "just a book" and besides, Cubs never colors inside his books. Thankfully, I paused before correcting anything and asked, "What are you doing?"

"My bible study" he blinks up owlishly at me with those endless blue eyes.

The boys watch me working in my Bible Study Fellowship notes each day, answering questions and spending time in the word. He watched. He absorbed. He acted.

"What are you studying?" I asked, wondering if my child might not also be a book nook genius.

"The bible," he repeated as if I were a little slow.

Nope, not a genius, just a child of God in training, which in my book is an even better kind of wisdom.

JOY!

The second moment came today, this very morning.

I try to do my bible study each morning at the breakfast table while they eat. They watch me sing a few hymns, the hear me pray out loud, they witness my exploration of the bible.

Today after I finished singing the last hymn, the Bear interrupted with the following:

"Um, Mom? Mom!!! Wait, wait, wait, its just my turn to sing to God."

"You want to sing a song? Ok. How about Jesus loves the little children?"

"NO! No, Mom. Its a song I wrote for God."

"You wrote a song for God?" I ask, the smile on my face practically sliding off into my cereal.

"Yup! Here it goes!!!!"

And he started singing.

I wish I could have understood all of the toddlereese that followed in the middle of his song. But I understood the beginning and the end quite clearly.

It began, "God because you love me, you made the stars and the animals and they were so good..."

It ended, "And then Jesus went to the disciples and he showed himself to those disciples."

The ending, by the way, was something he learned at his own BSF class. Last week they studied Jesus appearing to the disciples and followers after His resurrection.

You can rest easy knowing that I thoroughly squeezed and kissed him after the song ended.

Afterwards he shouted up towards the ceiling, "Did you like it God, did you?? I LOVE YOU, GOD!!!"

Another habit he has picked up from his Mama. I am always shouting things up at God, trying to get the message across to the kids that they can talk to Him anytime, about anything.

I hit the oasis this morning. I left the usual desert wanderings behind and just enjoyed watching the sight of my little men, learning and growing in His word.

This makes me feel like dancing. In fact, I am off to do just that. Its laundry day after all and every laundry day should start with some dancing to help us get through the misery of matching thousands of tiny socks.

Thank you for making the ashes so very beautiful, Lord. As always, you have taken me by surprise!

Ancient of Days

We have been working on knowing the attributes of God and the names of God for a while now. Little by little, day by day, He is becoming an inextricable part of my sons' lives. Little men of God and His word. Thats what I am reaching for. And yet as summer drew to a close, I found myself missing days of lessons. Adding brick by brick, a wall of self doubt in my abilities as a mother and teacher. I do that to myself. Right on schedule, every couple of months, enough life issues happen and I begin preparing the bricks. I start organizing them and placing them one by one. A brick for the guilt of a temper lost. Another for the grief over the missed opportunity of a teaching moment that passed me by. Another brick for the ways I let people down, the things I leave unfinished, the words I have left unsaid. The wall takes shape and the self-doubt now has a new corner of my heart to grow in.

The boys and I walked through the zoo last week. The heat beating down on us, draining us and slowing our steps. Everything felt sluggish. Despite the fire in their cheeks and the weight of heavy feet on a humid summer day, their curiosity stayed lit, teeming with the need to be kindled.

Dripping sweat and joy, naming and guessing, exploring what God made. We paused by the large enclosure of giant tortoises and we marveled at them. Their homes upon their backs, the slow, deliberate moves. Not an ounce of energy wasted, purposeful creatures I find myself envying a bit. What does living at a slow pace feel like? I can hardly remember. Three boys seem to accelerate my life to a dizzying pace with each passing week. The tortoises continue their rusty march towards the fence line. Their large eyes watching the small boys at my side.

The Bear leans down and whispers, "He looks so old."

"He is ancient," I agree.

Ancient.

A word he has been hearing with frequency. It clicks in his mind. An audible revelation of history and love and familiarity and bone deep knowledge.

"He is ancient because the Ancient of Days made him!" he shouts.

And in that moment I am undone.

As if the miserable sun suddenly ceased beating my back and a rain cloud of grace had burst open over my heads and spent its rivulets of grace upon my heart.

Though I fail to teach well each and every day, the Holy Spirit never ceases to step in and intercede for me. Because despite the enormity of teaching a child about God and his universe, we are not defeated by our own sinful shortcomings, for He dwells over our children and enables them to grasp Him with their small hands. And then when we least expect it, He uses them to teach us.

He shouted, "Ancient of Days!"

Just as he has shouted, "Adonai, Yaweh, Shaddai," and "Messiah Jesus," a few days later.

This one God of endless names is oh so very faithful to his promises. There is not one out of his reach. Not one person too old or too young to be used for His work.

He always knows just when to encourage me. Right when the cup has nearly emptied. When the crevices begin to reopen and the parched desperation of a life too full of earthly sorrows begins to choke and mire the view...

He sends the rain.

He calls my son by name and leads that very son to call him by His name.

Oh, Ancient of Days.

It was spoken with a shout of joy. And the wall of self doubt my life was in the process of building came crumbling down, a defeated Jericho. Felled by a 3 year old in the grip of the Spirit.