More Glimpses

When you have a twelve year old son in the house, life sometimes seems to be a 90mph roller coaster ride.  In the dark.  With blaring music intended to deafen you by the time you hit fifty.

Some days we are on the UP side of life, laughing and giggling and loving being alive.  Then we are on the DOWN side of things, crying and griping and screaming about how life isn't really fair.  From moment to moment, you really have no idea where the car is on the tracks, you just know you better hold on for all you are worth, lest you get a wicked bad whiplash.

It's kind of like living with me on a monthly basis.  But, without the period.

When things are good, they are often hyper good these days.  Such was an event that took place this week, providing more proof that this parenting thing, whiplash and all, is worth it.

Last night, Nickels got in the car with Mike and said he wanted to tell him something but he was scared to share it.  Of course, Mike was thinking "What did he do at the church?  Did he throw a cherry bomb down the toilet?  Did he kiss a girl in the back hallway?  Did he admit MommaJ and I lose our temper about once a day?" 

WWWWHHHHAAAATTTTTTTT?

Thankfully, with Nickels, if you tell him he can think about it and tell you when he is good and ready, that ready comes within the next five or so seconds.

Honestly, this is a great trait because it lends itself to a short, patient wait, with an information dump as a reward.  And, often, those information dumps are straight from the heart about matters of the heart.  Things like loving Jesus or having a crush or still feeling sad thinking about Grandma Joyce being gone.

Mike and I have learned to act nonchalant in these situations, even though our hearts about pound out of our chests and we feel like we could spew any moment. 

"Dad?  I'm ready to follow you."

I think Mike about had a wreck.  "What is in the Kool-Aid at the church?", he was wondering.

Well, we know what's in the water.  Or, probably more specifically, what's in the spirit.  The Holy Spirit is working through a program for sixth graders that emphasizes the verse from 1 Timothy 4:12:  "Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity."

This program started Sunday night and the whole journey to the point of this comment was Spirit filled.

First, the introductory letter arrived.  I was less than optimistic that we could make it work because 1T412, as it is called, occurred at the same time as a Bible study at our house and put another activity on Nickel's long extracurricular to-do list.

But, Nickels was undeterred.  He wanted to go.  And timing, the homework piece, and the fact that he'd have activities five night a week didn't matter.  So, he attended the introductory evening.  And was hooked from the get go.

This "I'm ready" revelation occurred after session number one, where our oft ADD-riddled son was the lone sixth-grader taking notes and who obeyed Mike when he asked Nickels to stay away from the sodas and most of the chips.*

So, when they arrived home and Mike shared Nickel's revelation, I only had one question:  "Does this obedience include ME?"  Nickels got a "GEEZ MOM" look on his face, leaned into me and said "yes" with a big smile.

As we drove to a movie Monday afternoon, a Christian song we all knew came on the radio.  I couldn't help but think about the path all three of the boys are going down as we were singing our hearts out to the same God, a Savior who is calling us each to our own special place in His kingdom.   

I honestly know no greater joy than watching my children follow the lead of Mike and I into the things of God.  There are no grades or honors or trophies that trump knowing our boys are headed down the right path, even when that path is a bit rocky or uncertain or even seemingly impossible at times.

On the days that are less than stellar, I'm going to be grateful that I have a gracious, loving Father who moved me beyond plastic baby dolls to the real thing.  A God who is worthy of being followed and trusted and loved. I'm going to remember that He, too, is a parent and has walked a far rockier path than I ever will. 

For now, though, the sweet words that echo in my mind and heart and will forever be etched there are "I am ready to follow."

Me, too, Nickels.  Me, too.

*Darn allergies. 

Generation Gap

There are just sometimes that what I grew up knowing as second nature is not even on my kid's radar screens. 

They'll never know the distinct pleasure of changing the channel on the black and white TV with a KNOB, for example.

And that gap in knowledge came into strong play this morning when Hooman's friend arrived on the scene.  He had clearly grown a foot since the last time I saw him and I said "My goodness friend!  You sure have grown!  You must be eating your Wheaties."

Wheaties.  With about three tablespoons of sugar and Bruce Jenner on the box is stuff of legend in my mind.  It still is The Breakfast of Champions.  It just never dawned on me that my kids hadn't ever, not once, had a box of this cereal.

It wasn't until I heard Hooman apologizing profusely to his friend and he said "Wienies?  Why would she think you were eating THOSE?"*, I understood.

I'm OLD.  That is an apt description, I think.


*At least they weren't snickering at the concept.  I guess that comes in their teen years?

Glimpses

You know those times when you see glimpses of success as a parent?  They're like tiny love notes from God, sent through the mouths or actions of your children, reminding you YOU REALLY ARE ALL THAT.*  AND MORE.

Take, for instance, last night, at 3:31a.m., when The Babe padded into our room declaring the cat had gotten sick in his bed.

I was in a good sleep.  We're talking super deep REM.  So, at first, I was confused by where I was.  Then I wondered "Why is it so dang dark in here?"  I guess I figured, if I was hearing the voice of one of my sons, that there should be a bit of light in the room.  Then, I realized "SLEEP MASK."**

Once that was off, I saw the time, my brain clicked 'on', and I sat up in bed. Then I had the strange presence of mind to wonder "Did the cat get sick in The Babe's bed or in the cat's bed?"*** followed closely by the thought "If it's the cat's bed, I'm telling The Babe to chuck it on the ground and I'll deal with it in the morning." Yeah, I get negative parenting points for that thought.

That's when my youngest, who is getting big way.too.fast, looked me straight in the eye and said "I'm so glad you are my Mommy and Daddy is my Daddy." 

I could have run a marathon to Chicago wearing ankle weights after that comment.  I gave him a much too tight hug, forgot the insane hour and the fact that the cat didn't have the courtesy to yak on the floor or in his OWN bed, and sprang into action.  In that moment, I was SuperMom, coming to the rescue of my adoring son.

It really doesn't take much, does it?  And, if that's all it takes for a Mom to feel superhuman, can you imagine what it feels like for our children when we speak kind words to them?

"Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones."  Proverbs 16:24


*Parent, teacher, cook, maid, nurse, worker bee, taxi driver, budget-keeper, etc.

**Still getting used to it.  Realized my sleep was being disturbed by the little light on our alarm pad.  Most people would roll over at forget about it.  But me?  I think there is vampire in the family tree somewhere.

***Yes, the cat is spoiled.  But, if it makes any difference in your opinion of me having a spoiled cat:  the bed came from Walmart.