Mother’s Day is a sweet pause in the life of a family. As a child, it was one of my favorite events. My siblings and I would often pool our collective dollars to buy our mom a piece of pretty glassware for her display shelf. Sometimes, though, Mother’s Day would sneak up on us and we’d improvise.

The year I turned seven, I’d forgotten to save for a present. I remember writing a syrupy poem and presenting it to Mama, along with a Mason jar filled with white trumpet-shaped flowers I’d picked in a field behind our orange orchard. (How was I to know the flowers were stinkweed?) She didn’t seem to notice the noxious odor, and treated that bouquet like lovely roses.

Another year, I made an egg-carton jewelry box for Mother’s Day. I painted it hot pink, then squeezed blobs of Elmer’s glue around each compartment, followed by generous shakes of multicolored glitter. She’s gonna love it, I kept telling myself.

Mama went through grandiose gestures of gratitude, oohing and ahhing my creation. Secretly, I wondered whether she planned to really use it, or if it would just take up space on her dresser as a dust collector.

So I did what any private investigator would do. The next day I tiptoed into her bedroom to see for myself. Easing the lid open, I discovered that she’d filled each egg compartment with her favorite earrings, bracelets, and necklaces.

My snooping came to a halt when I felt my mom plant a kiss on my cheek. “It’s the prettiest jewelry box ever,” she said. “Thank you, honey.”

Under all that paint and glue and glitter sat an ordinary egg carton. The carton had traveled from henhouse to grocery store, and eventually to my teacher’s house. It had ended up in my school classroom, where I’d transformed it into something else; yet, my mother didn’t view it as an ordinary egg carton at all. Mothers are just like that, I figured.

A couple of decades later, Mother’s Day morning found my own young children tiptoeing around our house, preparing to surprise me. I knew better than to climb out of bed early. A surprise takes time, so that’s what I gave them.

Soon they’d tap me on the shoulder and I’d pretend that they’d awakened me from a deep sleep. I’d close my eyes while they led me by the hand to the living room, where crepe paper streamers and a poster-sized Mother’s Day card would transform the room into a celebration. And their daddy would pretend he knew nothing about their plans.

True to form, they pulled off yet another Mother’s Day surprise. The dining room table was set with our blue and white china, and down the middle of the table was a row of vases, each filled with flowers gathered from our flowerbeds. Breakfast consisted of peanut-buttered-and-jellied English muffins, banana slices, and orange juice sipped from crystal goblets.

My Mother’s Day surprises knitted beautiful memories that I treasure to this day. They took planning. Time. A joyful anticipation by those who loved me. In my eyes, each celebration was worth the wait.

God’s surprises are well-timed, too. When I allow Him the freedom to work in my life, I’m never disappointed. His ways are higher and deeper than mine, and He has proven time and again that He loves turning the ordinary into something extraordinary.

Life in Christ is an ongoing adventure well worth the wait.

“You open Your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing. The Lord is righteous in all His ways, gracious in all His works.” – Psalm 145:16-17 (KJV)

©2008, Bonnie Bruno

For more slice-of-life stories, visit Bonnie’s Macromoments blog: http://macromoments.blogspot.com

One of the most significant things we can do for our families (and ourselves) is to create positive and happy memories. I’m not talking about Disneyland experiences—I’m talking about the simple every day joys that form lasting impressions in our minds. Through our homes, we have an opportunity to design an environment that connects us to the blessings of life and provides positive reminders of special moments. We are building memories, not just homes. Home design takes on new meaning when we realize the potential of the process!

Colors, furnishings and lighting are significant to creating beauty, but designing a home that will enhance who we are is about creating connections between what we see or do in our home and what we want our brain to remember. Stick with me here, it is not as complicated as it sounds! Meaningless decorations are simply pretty to look at. Decorations or objects that have significance or are connected to an experience become portals to happy memories, create a sense of contentment in life and even shape our character.

So, how do we create a lifetime of memories? Here are just a few of the ways:

LIVE LIFE ON PURPOSE
If you aren’t living the life you want to remember someday, it will be difficult to have positive memories. Decide what kinds of memories are important to you and create the opportunity to experience them. It is as simple as that. Even in times of trouble we can find joy in purposeful living. To start, choose just a couple of memory-making goals that you can begin incorporating right away.

SAVOR ORDINARY MOMENTS
Concentrate on the attainable in life rather than only the big dreams. Most of life is made up of small moments, so find ways to make the ordinary more memorable. Constant multi-tasking doesn’t allow us to savor simple pleasures. At certain times we need to give our undivided attention to creating lasting memories. Turn your phone and computer off to focus on a few special moments each day. Make up stories with your kids in bed at night and sing songs for ten minutes before you say goodnight. Turn off the TV and memorize Bible verses together, while baking cookies after school.

CREATE TRADITIONS
Often times it is the rituals in life—activities that we repeat over and over—that can mean the most to us. Pick just a few simple traditions and stick with them. Personal and family rituals create a sense of peace, belonging and security in life. If you’re looking for one, here are a few suggestions that might be a good fit for your family:

• Make your own pizzas on Friday nights
• Plant a garden and care for it daily
• Use special dishes at dinnertime to celebrate achievements
• Sing a silly song to wake everyone up in the morning
• Play board games on Saturday nights
• Take walks after dinner
• Do family devotions together
• Hold family meetings once a month
• Share spiritual goals for the day while eating breakfast
• Pray with your kids before sending them off to school

ENGAGE YOUR SENSES
We are far more likely to remember experiences that engage our senses. Connect traditions and ordinary moments in life to different senses. Give each member of the family their special color and use it to distinguish drinking cups, towels or laundry baskets. Have different colored napkins at the dinner table to make mealtimes visually memorable. Arrange vegetables in the shape of a smiling face on a child’s plate. Keep seasonal flowers or decorations in your entryway to welcome your family home. Find pretty mugs to savor everyday beverages. Drape soft blankets on chairs for snuggling. Play music while doing family chores.

Scents are powerful reminders of special times and places. Plant lilacs in your backyard where your kids play, or burn a favorite candle to establish your home’s scent.

UTILIZE MEANINGFUL DÉCOR
The home is where our positive life experiences should spill over into visible form. Utilize your decorations as opportunities to enhance life, rather than to just fill an empty space. Frame special Bible verses and quotes, and hang them for inspiration. Use chalkboards to announce holidays, upcoming birthdays, half-birthdays and just to say, “I love you.” Hang children’s artwork in significant places around your home. Create memory boards for each family member to showcase their favorite things. Bring back beautiful mementos from family vacations. Buy hardback versions of books your family has read and keep them on the coffee table. When you move, have a sketch made of your old house to hang in your new house.

Creating a memorable life doesn’t have to be expensive or time consuming. The art of memory making is the process of living in the moment, finding joy in the ordinary, and savoring precious blessings.

©2008, Melissa Michaels

It is an entirely unremarkable moment, one I repeat every day at noon, all throughout the fall and winter. I am cutting squash, chopping, scooping, dicing. But today, as I scoop out the tangly pulp, seeds scattering and falling on the countertop, I scoop deep into me and feel the wrapped tendrils of who I am.

I am startled. Scraping out that pulp, I face my own insides. I am taken aback at what twists and knots within me. I test again. Yes. Raw, messy fear. Can it be that is, right now, what snarls and writhes around my soul, strangling me? Yes, that is what I feel in this moment of time. I can feel it, as real as those squash strings between my fingers.

Funny. I never have named this feeling before. Not this name. Perhaps “uptight.” Or “stressed.” But today, fleshy pulp in the palm of my hand, I can simply say it: I am afraid.

Am I enough? Loving enough, gentle enough, giving enough? Can I do, BE, enough today? Will I be able to stay ahead of the mushrooming laundry, the army of hungry stomachs, the endless waterfall of questions, the tsunami of needs today that will overwhelm? Do I have enough inner resources today to ride the pounding surf? I don’t want to fail.

I know this feeling. It’s the same squeezing panic that wrung me when I’d swim too far from shore and my feet couldn’t find a slippery, algae covered rock to cling to. In the murky depths, currents relentlessly tugging and dragging, I’d flail and feel about, looking for a toehold.

Like every mother, I am in way over my head. The depths plunge deep and dark, and I am a helpless cork bobbing about the smashing waves, breathlessly trying not to panic. It is like my soul cannot touch bottom.

I lay down my knife and quarter of squash. I am stunned by the naming of this tangle of feelings inside of me. I think that I multi-task. I juggle. I orchestrate, co-ordinate, manage, one eye on the clock, one eye thinking of what comes next: change over the laundry, check on Hope and grammar lesson, switch Shalom from puzzles to legos, call the butcher shop to place an order, set the table with bowls for the steaming lentil soup, mark Levi’s math exercises. But I have named the beast that lurks just below the waters, with gleaming eyes waiting to spring: fear.

Five-year-old Malakai, still learning to decipher the puzzle of phonics, wanders through the kitchen, his church kid’s club booklet in hand, pretending to read his Bible verse for the week. He lilts the words from memory, eyes fixed to the page as he walks: “Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” (Mark 4:39.)

And directly, something within me stills. I cease to flail. I almost want to laugh at the surprising aptness of it all. (But, really, is it surprising?)

He rebukes my winds. His word, alive, relevant, sovereign, from the lips of an illiterate child, calms my waters. “Peace, be still.”

And underneath, my foot feels an anchor, a verse from my Bible reading in the dark still of coming day, a verse that I nearly skimmed over, but now revisits me, knowing it is a lifeline meant for this very moment:

“No, there is no other Rock. I know not one” (Isaiah 44:8).

I pick up a spoon to finish scooping squash pulp. The tangled part of me unknots. Floats. My insides have loosened. For I have found it. When fears, even nameless, cloaked ones, sinisterly drag, there is a Rock who cries through the waters, “Here… I am your home in these seas. Place your foot here, your heart here. Stand on me. And live.” These fears diminish, cut down to size.

How to hold to the Rock in the midst of everyday storms? “Prayer is the most concrete way to make our home in God,” writes Henri Nouwen. When I pray, I intimately know the crevices of the Rock, the texture of its surface, the immensity of its steadfast character.

I lay the squash halves in to the enamel dishes, and slip them into the oven. Turning to the sink to wash the last remnants of squash strings from my hands, I hear the sea as the water runs over my fingers.

My fears are washed away with a prayer of three simple words, a lullaby on the waves: Peace, be still.

©2008, Ann Voskamp

Related resources: Peace is a Person

Susan May Warren is a multi-published, award-winning author with Tyndale House and Steeple Hill. Her latest release is titled, Wiser Than Serpents. About two years ago, God laid on her heart the horror of the human trafficking problem, and after reading a magazine article by Sara Groves, she began to research IJM (International Justice Mission) with a desire to help. Coincidentally, she was also writing a book at that time, a suspense/ romance novel set in Taiwan about a woman whose sister is trafficked. The heroine goes undercover to try and free her. The book, Wiser than Serpents, comes out with Steeple Hill this month, and in the front, the author’s note section, she wrote about IJM, with information about how to get involved. She will also be donating 15% of the proceeds of this book to IJM.

“What do girls do who haven’t any mothers
to help them through their troubles?”
~Louisa May Alcott

I lost my mother when I was at the very vulnerable age of 14. Throughout the rest of my tumultuous and painful teenage years and on into young adulthood, I had to find my own way through the maze without a mother’s tender touch, or her wisdom, or her love, or even her nagging and preaching. I was a lost and sad little soul for so long.

So, to answer the question above from the author of “Little Women,” this girl had a very difficult time without anybody there to help me through my troubles. I was actually jealous of my friends who had their moms, and couldn’t figure out why they complained so much about them!

Several years later, after being a mom for 16 years, my oldest daughter became ill with lupus. I remember asking God “why?”  Why did TP have to go through all of this physical and emotional pain?  Why did He choose me, out of all of the thousands of adoptive moms out there who could have become TP’s mom, to be THE one?

He answered me in a way which has humbled me ever since.  He told me that it was because I had what TP needed the most in a mom—that I was chosen especially for TP because I would be able to help her through that particular storm in her life, and help to make her stronger physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

A few months ago, when my youngest daughter faced turbulent times, I went to the Lord again and asked him why DQ enourmous crosses to bear, and what I could do to help carry the weight on her shoulders  Again He replied that all I could do for DQ is to just be the mom that she needs me to be—loving, kind, supportive—and that He’d be right there next to me, giving me the strength to get through the challenges I was facing with all of DQ’s problems.

And now, I am going through what is probably the most difficult trial of all with my oldest daughter refusing to accept my help, my love, my guidance, and turning her back on all that we hold dear in our life—our faith, our values, our family. What hurts so much is that I would have given anything in the world to have had a mom at her age, and now she is so ungrateful for anything and everything I have ever done for her. She is rebelling, she is angry, she deliberately tries to hurt me with her words and actions.

Yet, through it all, I am reminded that I am still HERE to help her with her troubles, if she so chooses. The door is always open for her return. I am reminded of God’s answer that He chose me to be her mom—and that my job isn’t finished yet by any means. This is just another one of the storms of her life which I am supposed to help her through. But I feel so helpless this time around.

I am going through this persecution of sorts because she is still so angry about her illness and how it affected her in her most vulnerable years, she is still so afraid to be alone that she’ll do anything to hang on to things and people which lead her astray, and even though she is healed physically she hasn’t healed emotionally from her illness. And she is taking all of this out on me. I have to stand here with broad shoulders and take it all in, just as Christ did when He was being persecuted, and then I have to forgive. And forgive. And forgive again. And always, love her and be there, just in case she needs me.

So, on this Mother’s Day, I am thinking of my mom, whom I miss so much.  I certainly could use some of her motherly loving and comforting and touch. I’m watching my younger girl slowly heal from a ton of pain and blossom into a beautiful young woman. And with pain and anguish in my heart, I’m waiting with bated breath for my Prodigal daughter’s return. Such a myriad of emotions, which I am sure that each mother has gone through at some point in her life, but I happen to be going through all of them at once!

On this Mother’s Day, all I can say is be grateful for your children when they are young and sweet. Be grateful for your children when they are healthy or ill. Be grateful for your children when they are good and virtuous, or when they have taken the wrong path. Our jobs as mothers are to love and let go—and be there when they return.

Eventually, I’m certain, that each of my girls will come to realize why God chose me to be their mom. And maybe they will turn out to be a “mean” mom, just like me.  But what I’d really like to know is if, in 30 or 40 years from now, they’ll miss me as much as I miss my mom.

The circle of life is mysterious. And my legacy, I hope, will be one of simply being “my kids’ mom”.

“Her children arise up, and call her blessed”. ~ Proverbs 31:28

I want to especially thank my kids’ birth moms. May you have a blessed day, and know that you are in our prayers everyday.

I recently saw your movie, “No One Would Tell,” on TV, and loved it! It was eye-opening and powerful. Even though I thought that the overall message defeated some of the sinful things in the movie, it didn’t make them go away. I’m wondering what your thoughts on the movie are from a Christian viewpoint.

The only thing that really bothered me was when your character slept with Bobby (even though we didn’t see it, it was definitely implied), and when I found out you were a Christian, I was a little torn on the judgment there. I’m not even sure if you were a Christian when you shot this movie, but I really just wanted to know your thoughts on some of the things that movie portrayed.

_________________________

Thanks for your email. I’m glad you enjoyed watching “No One Would Tell.” I’ve had a lot of email from people over the years who have watched it and learned a lot from it. I think they still show it in some schools today.

I think it’s wonderful how you were aware that some of the movie made you uncomfortable from a Christian point of view. I filmed it about 13 years ago, and although I considered myself a “Christian” at the time, I was not living my life for Jesus. I remember being uncomfortable that my character “Stacy” had sex with her boyfriend (only implied by the script, not shown), but I also knew that the movie was based on a true story and they were trying to keep to the real story as closely as possible.

As a mother and woman following Jesus, I can look back at the movie and wish there were some things that weren’t in it. I may have made some other choices within the movie. And that’s always the tricky part for a Christian actor, because a lot of people can’t disassociate a character they are portraying with the real life person they are.

Overall, I’m still proud of the movie because it has opened the eyes of many teenagers, giving them insight into abusive relationships. Do I wish that Stacy had not been intimate with her boyfriend? Of course. But it was important in keeping true to the real story.

I think it’s so great that you’re discerning the difference between God’s ways and the world’s ways. Keep it up!!

Ralph Waldo Emerson said “earth laughs in flowers,” if this is true then May is a series of giggles all around us. Flowers are in bloom, the weather is warming up, and spring fever is upon us.

Speaking of new things—last October I had the honor of interviewing author Amy Wallace. I enjoyed her first book Ransomed Dreams so much, that I asked her to return and discuss her second book in the Defender of Hope series, Healing Promises, released April 15th.

Not only did Amy come by, but she came bearing gifts!*

Amy is a self-confessed chocoholic, wife, homeschool mother, and author. Her first book in the Defender of Hope series, Ransomed Dreams was published in April of 2007. She is also a contributing author to God Answers Mom’s Prayers, God Allows U-Turns for Teens, Chicken Soup for the Soul Healthy Living Series: Diabetes, and A Cup of Comfort for Expectant Moms.

Reading Healing Promises first does spoil the first book a little, but it is an excellent stand alone book too.

Amy I am so excited to meet up with you again! Besides writing, what have you been doing? And I heard you had shoulder surgery at the end of last year, how has the healing process been?

Thanks so much for having me back! Your interviews are always fun, and it’s a pleasure to be part of CWO again.

I appreciate you asking about the shoulder surgery. The healing process has been long and difficult, especially since I had to wait four months to even have the surgery because of writing deadlines. But I recently told my sport’s medicine surgeon that my shoulder surgery was good fodder for writing Healing Promises. The lessons God taught through this experience added depth to my writing this particular story, as I was crying out to the Lord, like two of the main characters, for release from some intense pain.

Other than shoulder recovery and tons of physical therapy, I’ve been busy with homeschooling, actually working on my scrapbooks some, and enjoying a little time off over the holidays with my family. My hubby and I also celebrated our thirteenth anniversary on New Year’s Eve by flying with some friends to another city for dinner and watching fireworks from the airplane. That was awesome!

You had me hooked as a reader with your first book, Ransomed Dreams, but I have to say that I LOVE Healing Promises. This is a bit of an emotional journey for Clint and Sara, was this a difficult book for you to write?

This was an intensely personal and painful book to write as it forced me to look back into some difficult memories. I talk about two in particular in the author letter, that of attending a friend’s funeral after three years of praying for healing and of losing a child. But writing this story also reminded me of how true Job 1:21 is. The Lord gives and takes away, but in it all, blessed be His name. It took me a long time to experience the truth of that verse. But looking back I see even more clearly that I never walked a step of this journey alone. And very often I didn’t even do the walking because God carried me.

Can you tell us a bit about the research you had to do for this story?

As I formulated the suspense angle of this story I did a lot of reading on serial killers. Not fun by any account, but fascinating. In college, my criminal justice classes and abnormal psychology courses were among my favorites. But as soon as I knew the storyline, my protective husband asked me never to look at the websites and books I’d read again. And I haven’t. But I do have to pray a good deal to keep the real life stories and pictures out of my head.

As for the emotional and relational aspects of the story, I had a group of wonderful people providing intimate details of their personal battles with the illness Clint and Sara have to face in Healing Promises. A few of those amazing people have semi-fictional cameos in the story. But I also did a great deal of reading, interviewing, and online research to supplement the personal information.

Several times throughout the book you reference the song “Blessed Be Your Name” by Matt Redman, can you explain the significance of this song to you?

This song became my life anthem last year. There were physical valleys of pain and personal struggles with my calling to write that still make me cry when I sing this song. But what a gift to worship the Lord and raise my voice to say, “Blessed be Your name” even when life hurts.

This year, the song and the struggles are different. God has healed so much in my heart and in some very dear relationships. But “Blessed Be Your Name” is still a song that God uses to remind me that no matter what, He is with me and He is good.

I love the relationship that Marilynn and Sara have. Marilynn warned Sara not to depend on people and circumstances. Can you explain what Marilynn was trying to communicate?

I loved Marilyn and Sara too! And what Marilynn was trying to communicate is the same thing my best friend tells me all the time: people and circumstances don’t define us, the opinions and situations swirling around don’t determine our worth. Because the measure of who we are was settled by the only One who has the full picture. And He looks at His children with smiling eyes and outstretched hands. Our worth was settled on the cross of Christ. Therefore, no accolades or relationships make me okay, any more than negative words or circumstances define who I am. It’s an easy truth to know, a much harder one to experience.

What message would you like your readers to come away with in Healing Promises?

My prayer is that as readers become involved in Clint and Sara’s journey, they’ll experience a deeper sense of the goodness and trustworthiness of God, even when life doesn’t go as we prayed. I also hope readers will see that at the end of ourselves only one truth remains—God is good. What we do with that fact changes everything.

What is one thing or verse God is using to speak to you right now?

God is hard at work teaching me what unconditional respect means and also showing me the joy in being part of a community of believers. Our church family has struggled with so many deaths and health crises in our membership recently, but God is still very real and present among us. What a gift to truly weep with those who weep and know God is gently wiping away each tear. And to rejoice with those who rejoice, knowing our heavenly Daddy is dancing with us.

Last time you where here you responded to one of my questions saying, no one has asked you what your favorite chocolate is. Amy, what is your favorite chocolate?

See, I love your questions. My favorite chocolate is Godiva dark chocolate mint medallions. And I’m happy to receive those with much thanksgiving should anyone want to send some my way.

Amy I wish you the best Mother’s Day this month, and thank you so much for visiting us here again.

Thank you for having me! I hope Mother’s Day is a joy-filled celebration for you and your Book Buzz readers.

Be sure to visit Amy at her personal blog Heart Chocolate, and you can read the first chapter to each of the two books in the Defender of Hope Series.

Links:

Heart Chocolate (Amy’s Website)
Dark Chocolate Suspense newsletter
Ransomed Dreams first chapter
Healing Promises first chapter

* Now I mentioned at the beginning that Amy comes bearing gifts. This month, Amy will be giving one of our lucky Book Buzz readers a nice Mother’s Day gift pack (but no worries if you are not a Mom, you are included also).  This gift pack will include a signed copy of Healing Promises, a Healing Promises mug, and a Starbucks gift card. Thank you so much Amy!  Click here for all the details on how to enter the monthly drawing.

©2008, Laurel Wreath

This week has been one of “those” weeks. We’ve all had them. Although many good things have happened, there have also been some let downs—blessings mixed in with disappointment—the bitter with the sweet. What did I do to escape the reality of some of it? I went to the movies— a quadruple feature all day on Saturday.

But as I emerged from the dark confines of the silver screen after hours of heroes, villains, laughter and tears, my world in the bright light of day hadn’t changed. My husband’s car was still damaged from the accident the night before while we were driving home from church. And, my only son was still facing four years in prison from the final sentencing decision earlier in the week. I was still a mom who was going to have another painful Mother’s Day.

My point in sharing this with you isn’t for pity but to impart that in the midst of disappointing times we can have freedom to enjoy, escape, embrace good friends, and encourage ourselves in the Lord. Life isn’t always going to be pleasant. Sometimes we need to remind ourselves of that basic fact.

1 Samuel 30 tells a story about King David. He and his mighty men had been off away from camp fighting. While they were gone the Amalekites had come to their town of Ziklag. They destroyed everything and took their women and children. In verse 18, it says, “David was greatly distressed because the men were talking of stoning him; each one was bitter in spirit because of his sons and daughters.” Ever been there? As the stoner or the stonee?

It continues on in the same verse, “But David found strength in the LORD his God.” In other Word translations it says, “he encouraged himself in the Lord.” Even in the midst of discouragement, facing stoning, and the loss of his family – he ENCOURAGED himself. He remembered the times before when God had pulled him through.

One of my friends chuckles at me, and I think I’m wearing off on her, because I’m often whistling a tune, or breaking out in dance when I hear music. I do it often without thinking, and many times I do this to encourage myself, to keep myself upbeat and positive. I also am careful about not using negative words about myself or others. I surround myself with others who are upbeat, cheerful and positive. I’ve made conscious choices to see the glass always as half full.

I’ve spoken with my son a couple of times since his sentencing. While the outcome wasn’t what we had been praying for, he has been upbeat and is encouraged because the sentence could have been much longer and also because he can move on to the next stage. He’s accepting the consequences of his actions and is trying to make the best of the present and future situation. I’m proud of how far he’s come in his journey of accountability. I know God has a plan for him. More important, so does he. He has found freedom in a disappointing time.

And the accident we had in my husband’s car? We were blessed that no one was injured and my dear hubby was able to temporarily repair the damage himself until the insurance issues are settled. We were encouraged and grateful.

What are you dealing with now or facing in the future? Does it seem insurmountable? If so, find a nice quiet place, and reflect on what God has already brought you through in the past. Look for the good in where you are now. Find a scripture, a song, or a poem, something that encourages you. Read it daily, hourly, every minute if necessary—whatever it takes to help you take another step forward. Surround yourself with positive people. People who will support and encourage you.

Being around supportive people is a key element in staying positive in times of disappointment. That’s why the “A” in the Six Steps to SANITY as outlined in my newest book, Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children, is to “Assemble a Support Group.” Sometimes, we need people around to give us strength when ours is waning.

As you approach this Mother’s Day season I encourage you to lift up your voice in praise and thanksgiving—no matter the disappointments or pain. We have a choice. We always have a choice.

“Choose this day whom you will serve. As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord”
– Joshua 24:15

©2008, Allison Bottke

Available now from Harvest House Publishers
Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children
Six Steps to Hope and Healing for Struggling Parents
by Allison Bottke
For more information visit: www.SanitySupport.com

“Thou art my God since my mother bare me.”
~ Psalm 22:10

Being a mom is one of the greatest responsibilities bestowed on a human. If you compare it to other things God asks us to do it can be overwhelming.

I sing on our worship team at church.  If I mess up on this ministry, what is the worse that could happen? I sing a flat note?  I go a little off key?  I might even prevent someone from entering into worship with the King of Kings and Lord of Lords—but only temporarily. The ministry of being a mother entrusted with influencing another life is much more awesome in comparison.

Now the purpose of this observation is not to frighten you—but encourage you—honestly.

Take a good look at the children God has entrusted you with. Whether they are 2 or 52 they still need YOUR influence in their lives. God has given YOU unique talents, gifts and qualities perfectly suited to mould and encourage the lives that you parent. He knit you together in your mother’s womb—knowing exactly what qualities you would need for His perfect plan.  He is the Alpha and Omega, Beginning and End. He saw your child’s life before you were formed. He knew your shortcomings. You were fearfully and wonderfully made.

What amazes me most about the job of a mom is how unrewarding it APPEARS. Sure you get the odd “I love you mom” or a homemade card on Mother’s day—but does that really make it all worthwhile?

When you wash dirty dishes, dirty laundry and dirty faces, do you get a big “thank you?” When you go without sleep just to keep up, does anyone appear to care?  When you do without and are thrifty with resources so that your family can have that special something, does anyone notice the sacrifice? The words you impart into their sweet hearts often seem to land on deaf ears. Yet, after all that work and sacrifice, it is mom who lies awake at night worrying about whether she is doing or has done a good enough job.

Remember God made who you are. God loves who you are. He knew exactly what you would, and wouldn’t do. He imparted to you all that was necessary to equip your child for a relationship with Him.  If He needed you to be perfect He would have made you that way.

Some mom’s receive a partial reward when they see the life they formed seeking after God. Other mother’s pass away, before ever seeing the outcome of their efforts. What drives mothers and keeps them going, is that in their hearts, mothers know the real reward is not to be found on this earth—it awaits them. A reward bestowed by their Heavenly Father, who sees and knows each and EVERY sacrifice they’ve made.

So, mom, next time you are feeling unworthy and like you didn’t do enough—take comfort in knowing that you did exactly what God expected you to. Thank Him for the precious life he entrusted you with, and wait with joy for your reward is not of this earth.

Here are a couple of cake recipes that my mom passed on to me. I remember many Saturday afternoons as a young girl, shredding carrots with my mom for our cake, then later topping that cake with a delicious cream cheese icing that she taught me to make. And I could never forget her Date Cake, for it’s truly my favorite of them all.

Carrot Cake

Bake 350°F
1 Hour

Ingredients:
3C shredded carrots
4 eggs
2C sugar
2C flour
2 tsp salt
2 tsp baking soda
1C corn oil (add last)

Procedure:
Mix eggs and sugar.  Then add shredded carrots.
In a separate bowl sift dry ingredients together.  Add to carrot mixture.  Pour oil over all ingredients and mix.

Pour into greased 9” x 12” pan (or bundt pan) and bake.

Top with cream cheese icing.

Cream Cheese Icing

Ingredients:
2 oz Cream cheese
1 C Icing sugar
1/4C butter
1 tsp vanilla

Procedure:
Combine ingredients and spread over carrot cake.

Mom’s Date Cake

Bake 350°F                   30 minutes

Ingredients
Oat Mixture:
1 ¼ C rolled oats
1 ¾ C flour
1 ½ C brown sugar
1 C butter
1 tsp baking soda
2 T lemon juice

Date Filling:
1 ½ C dates
¼ C brown sugar
1T lemon juice

Procedure:
Mix ingredients in oat mixture together until crumbly.  Put half of mixture in bottom of 9” x12” cake pan.

Put ingredients of date filling in small saucepan with enough water to cover dates.  Bring to a boil.  Simmer until thick.  Stir constantly.  When cool spread over oat mixture.

Place remainder of oat mixture over top of dates in pan and bake at 350°F for 30 minutes.

Living in freedom from the bondage of food is not as far off as it seems. Picture the Israelites for a moment. They finally fled Egypt, leaving a life of slavery behind them—and before they could say, “see ya’ later subjugator,” Pharaoh was hot on their tail!

Why was he so eager to catch them? The answer is found in Exodus 14:8 where it says, “The LORD hardened the heart of Pharaoh king of Egypt, so that he pursued the Israelites, who were marching out boldly.”

Imagine it this way: Say you make a decision to live well today. You decide that you’re going to start eating well, and with it, you plan to walk 30 minutes/day, starting first thing tomorrow! You’ve decided that you’ve lived in bondage to food far too long, and you want to leave it behind in search of the Promised Land. A land flowing with milk and honey, where you are free from the pull of the fridge door, where you treat yourself well, and where you have peace with yourself.

So you wake up in the morning, energized, and ready to take on the world, but before you do, your nose leads you straight down the hall. That’s where you discover that junior threw up last night’s lasagna on the living room floor, and his serving of upside-down cake, is right-side-up, along with it. You put your sneakers aside, start to clean up the mess, usher the little one toward the tub, and throw his jammies in the wash—then the phone rings. “Hi, it’s me,” your husband says, but his voice doesn’t have the same jingle it usually does, in fact there’s discouragement in his tone… And the problems begin to accumulate, throwing your day into a spin, and your plans along with it.

That’s when you just might decide in your heart, “I didn’t expect to deal with all of this right now—it’s too much. I’m tired, I’m stressed, and all I can think of is sinking my teeth into the nearest loaf of French bread, while zoning out on the couch. I’m better off returning to the bondage of food, leaving the thought of exercise behind, and returning to the life that I had. After all—it was never really that bad.”

This thought has been echoed throughout the ages, starting way back as far as Exodus 14, when in verses 11&12 the Israelites asked “What have you done to us by bringing us out of Egypt? Didn’t we say to you in Egypt, ‘Leave us alone; let us serve the Egyptians?’ It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert!”

If you are in that desert of testing ladies, stay strong. Before turning around and heading straight back to the bondage you’ve lived in for years, pause to listen to the promise of God found in verse 13&14:

“Moses answered the people, ‘Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the LORD will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.’”

Be still. When you are standing in the desert of testing with your back to the sea and all you can see in front of you is the enemy closing in—be still. Stand firm, and you will find deliverance. Have you ever stood still long enough to witness God performing His work? Have you ever stood still in His presence and let Him fight your enemy? Be still. Because when you do, God will triumph over your enemy, release you from your stronghold, and you will know that He is God.

God hardened the heart of Pharaoh so that He would pursue the Israelites, but when he did, God not only rescued His people—He also sabotaged the pursuit of the Egyptians by removing their chariot wheels, and finally covering them with the sea. Can you hear the sound of the Israelites rejoicing at the sight? Can you hear the sound of your own voice rejoicing when you press on in faith and let God destroy the enemy that you leave behind?

“That day the LORD saved Israel from the hands of the Egyptians, and Israel saw the Egyptians lying dead on the shore. And when the Israelites saw the great power the LORD displayed against the Egyptians, the people feared the LORD and put their trust in him and in Moses his servant.” – Exodus 14:30-31

I love reading the stories from the Old Testament, because there is so much to glean from them. The events that they lived through typify our walk with Christ in so many ways. SO MANY. Whether they are about the slavery in Egypt, the time spent in the wilderness, crossing the Red Sea, or entering The Promised Land. Those stories teach us lessons that we can apply to our lives today. Paul writes, “For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.” – Romans 15:4.

“Hope,” ladies. Did you read that? That we might have hope! There is a desert of testing–yes. It will be hard, before it gets easy. If it wasn’t we’d all be model thin and run two miles a day. Life isn’t that easy, but that’s ok.

Let that thought sink in for a minute: “Life isn’t easy, but that’s ok.” In fact it’s better than ok, when we consider the maturity that it brings to our soul:

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” ~ James 1:2-4

God desires to triumph over our enemies. He desires to rescue you from your stronghold. He desires to lead you to The Promised Land; will you let Him?

Let’s start by getting back to patience—a characteristic most of us lack. Two weeks at a gym, and women are discouraged that the weight isn’t coming off. Even a slow computer can get some of us in a tailspin. Life takes time—remember that—it takes time.

If you give up and return to Egypt at the first sign of trouble you’re missing out on the blessings that God has to offer. You’re missing out on the promise He gives to trample our enemies under His feet.  “With God we will gain the victory, and he will trample down our enemies.” ~ Psalm 108:13

What happens at the second sign of trouble—if you plateau for a week, two weeks, or a month? If it rains just as you plan to go out for a walk—every time? Will you—like the Israelites—grumble once again, longing for the day when you ate all of the bread that you wanted? That’s what they did. Even after experiencing the crossing of the Red Sea, a miracle we can barely imagine let alone feel beneath our feet, they wanted to return to slavery, because they were hungry, and too impatient to wait on God for their food. Sound familiar?

If I’ve learned anything from past mistakes it’s this: we need to take that step of patience now—not tonight, not tomorrow—right now. Push the food to the side, today. Why? Because as I’ve mentioned before, living a life of sacrifice is an “act of spiritual worship.”

Some might say, “It’s just food—get real!” But no—it’s not just food, any more than gold is just gold. When your life molds or shapes it into something that you idolize, or use to tranquilize, it becomes your golden calf.

Consider the Israelites in Exodus chapter 32. They were free from slavery, as God pointed out in verse 7, “Go down, because your people, whom you brought up out of Egypt, have become corrupt..”

He goes on to say, “They have been quick to turn away from what I commanded them and have made themselves an idol cast in the shape of a calf. They have bowed down to it and sacrificed to it and have said, ‘These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt.’” (verse

How it must pain God when He frees us from addiction, whether it be to food, alcohol, smoking, porn, binging, purging… whatever our stronghold is, only to find us returning to it once again, hoping to find tranquility; excusing the struggle we have with our weakness so we can worship and cling to the golden calf once again.

God doesn’t always provide the easy way out. He doesn’t promise that life will be easy or free of temptation; in fact temptation is something we can always expect. But what He does provide, and promise to us is this: He’ll always provide a way to escape. There’s always a way out—a better way to escape from our pain—and with a little soul searching and determination, a way to leave the golden calf behind.

1 Corinthians 10:11-13, “These things happened to them as examples and were written down as warnings for us, on whom the fulfillment of the ages has come. So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall! No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.”

(Scripture from the NIV)

©2008, Darlene Schacht

*We advise that you always consult your doctor before starting any diet or exercise program.

When I walked into the kitchen this morning and saw that straw sticking out of a too-short cup, my first thought was, That is absolutely the last time I buy straws.

They irritate me. I don’t know why. I suppose I could trace it back to those curly, loop-de-loop straws I bought way back when the kids were younger. I wanted them to like the straws, but not so much that they’d use them. Because if they used them, say, for milk, then I’d have to be diligent about cleaning them. You can’t procrastinate your dish washing when you’ve got milk-coated curly straws waiting in the sink.

Of course, the kids did use them–all the time, and for every conceivable liquid. And occasionally I didn’t clean them in a timely fashion. Then I’d have to pour boiling water down that miniscule hole, squish the sides of the hot straws as the water raced through the curves, and hope no deadly and/or disgusting bacteria lingered somewhere inside.

The curly straws disappeared one day. No one knows what happened.

I switched to cheap, straight straws—and a different irritation. Now I didn’t have to worry about bacteria, because these were cheap enough to throw away. I just didn’t like the fact that Zac, in particular, likes to use a new straw for every sip of water he takes throughout the day. And he seems to take a special delight in using them in the shortest cups he can find, which means they’re always leaning out over the edge of the cup, making it easy for someone—Mom, maybe—to accidentally bump the tip and send it catapulting out of the cup.

So, yes, this morning I felt irritated. I stood looking at the evidence of Zac’s last sip and I thought, This is the last straw.

And right then, because he loves my children and me, God brought to mind the words of Tammy Courson, a pastor’s wife I heard speak at a conference two years ago.

Jon and Tammy had five children: three from Jon’s first marriage, and two together. Jon’s first wife died in a car accident when their three children were very young. Of those three, Jessie was the oldest girl. Not only was she beautiful and smart, but she had a spiritual depth most adults don’t possess. She’d be at a retreat with the high school kids, and during a discussion she’d say, “You know, the other day while reading about the seven bowl judgments in Revelation, it occurred to me how well they coordinate with the last words of Christ on the cross,” or something equally deep. One night her father teased her. “Jessie, the hardest thing ahead of us is going to be finding a husband for you who is more spiritually mature than you are.”

The day after that conversation, the kids had a scheduled day off of school. Jessie decided to drive over to the church and take communion before she started her day. Her dad was happy to see her there, and touched when, after communion, she stood and shared a verse. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jer 29:11). When she finished, she looked at her dad and winked. What she didn’t know was that God had spoken that very verse to Jon during the ambulance ride to the hospital with his dying wife, Jessie’s mother, some fifteen years earlier. That verse had been God’s way of letting Jon know that God would bring good out of that tragedy and would walk with Jon during the hard times.

Jessie left then and went home to ask her brother, Peter Jon, if he wanted to go out for breakfast with her. Peter Jon said later that he doesn’t know why he declined, but for some reason he said no. Jessie then went into the kitchen to say good bye to Tammy.

“You look so beautiful today,” Tammy told her daughter. Then she gave her a kiss and a hug, and they exchanged “I love you’s.”

Jessie left the house. Just two minutes later, rounding a curve near the spot where her mother’s accident had occurred, Jessie had her own car accident … and died.

At the memorial, Jon told of the conversation he and his daughter had shared the night before her death. He talked about the man he’d hoped Jessie would find, the man who would be more spiritually mature than she, the man who could lead her. And then he held up a ring belonging to Jessie, which they hadn’t been able to find in the car initially, but which someone brought him just before the service started.

“One of the things I have most looked forward to, as a pastor and father, is being able to officiate at the wedding of my daughter. And today, I am doing so. Today, my Jessie has found that Man to lead her. Today, my daughter is the bride of Christ.”

I have known of Jessie’s life and death for many years, but it wasn’t until Tammy Courson stood before me at that conference and shared her message that I really understood the story from a mother’s perspective.

“There’s a last time for everything with our children,” she said. “There was a last hair cut for my son, Ben. After that, he never asked again. There was a last time I watched my youngest daughter swirl in her tutu, because after that, she put away her ballet clothes and stopped dancing. And there was a last time …” Tammy fought tears as she tried to finish, “… there was a last time when I told my daughter Jessie how beautiful she was, and a last time I hugged her and told her I loved her.”

Her grief broke my heart. It was impossible not to cry with her, impossible not to let my thoughts jump to my own children, and what I’d feel if I were recounting my “lasts.”

“You never know when that last time comes,” Tammy said, “so make sure you appreciate the moments you have now.”

Remembering her words, I stood in the kitchen staring at that red-and-white straw sticking out of Zac’s too-short cup, and I thanked God for breaking my heart again.

My son can use all the straws he wants.

©2008, Shannon Woodward

As I type this very first offering for the new CWO Column, ‘The Preacher’s Wife’, I can’t help but laugh at God’s sense of humor. You see, I never in all my life planned on being a preacher’s wife so my presuming to write articles on the subject absolutely cracks me up.

You should know my big plans in high school included going to college and then moving to New York City.  I was going to have an adorable apartment and be a hip, urban sophisticate. There were two things I was not going to do: get married or have children.

It makes sense how God would dare not suffer a girl so intent on having her own way. Proverbs 16:9 says, “In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps.” Those steps God had already determined for me led straight to a handsome guy in the parking lot of my workplace. He said ‘hello’ and little did I know in that moment that the plans I had for my life would be forever changed.

Luke McKay was no preacher when I met him and I was certainly no preacher’s wife. We eventually married, but due to many ungodly decisions and actions, found ourselves filing for divorce just two short years after the ceremony. I moved out and it appeared the Story of Us was soon to end.

That’s when God showed up. Actually, He was there all along but we refused to see Him. Luke began calling me to say he had been praying of all things, and that perhaps we should rethink what we were doing. “Are you nuts?!” I would say right before I hung the phone up in his ear.

However, those prayers began their work, because within days I missed that boy so badly I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t know what to think about all his God talk, but I did know I wanted my husband back. And besides, I figured the Jesus stuff would blow over soon enough.

Was I ever wrong!

Part of our reconciliation was the agreement that we would go to church. I still harbored a ‘whatever’ attitude towards the religion thing, but through what can only be described as a MIRACULOUS work of the Holy Spirit, Luke and I were both born again.  And it didn’t stop there.

I watched Luke carefully and what I saw was a man literally transformed before my eyes.  I don’t know what I expected, but His zeal for the Word and desire to serve God seemed to surpass the usual and customary.  So really, though it seemed incredulous, it should have been no surprise the day Luke came to see me at work to ‘tell me something really important’.

“God wants you to be a preacher, doesn’t He?”

I’ll never forget Luke’s face at that moment. The fear melted into relief when he realized that through my astonishment I couldn’t be more proud.

So why did I tell you all of this? Because you need to know that if God can redeem two scoundrels like Luke and I, and use us to His glory, then He can certainly use you too.  You need to know that though a life in ministry is wrought with difficulty, it is also pervaded with joy.  You also need to know that though statistics tell you that ministry will chew you up and spit you out, given the right tools, you’ll not only survive but you’ll thrive in this life that I personally wouldn’t trade for anything in this ‘ole world.

Through this column I plan on giving you practical, biblical application to questions you have about your husband’s calling and your place in it. I would also love to introduce you to dozens of my closest blog friends, whose husbands also serve in all areas of ministry.  I believe the largest percentage of our discouragements can be solved through community and I pray you will find those safe friendships here.

I invite you to submit questions to this column by contacting me by email: lisamckay@farmerstel.com

Obviously I won’t be able to answer them all each month, but I will certainly try to address common themes. By sharing what I’ve learned as the wife of a minister, I hope to save you from the pitfalls I’ve experienced. To spare you a few years, to guard you from a few heartaches, and to let you know you are not alone. To convince you that your unique gifts and personality can translate into one fantastic pastor’s wife whether or not you are an outgoing hostess, your flower beds are weeded, or you and the kids are on time for Sunday School.

I pray with all my heart that you know how excited I am about this column, and the deep affection I have for those of you who are married to the ministry!

©2008, Lisa McKay

I lost my mother not long ago. She was a delightful 85 years old, and would have turned 86 on June fifteenth. I had her for 47 years, but 47 years was not nearly enough.  Neither for me, nor for any of us who knew and loved her.

Her funeral was a cornucopia of people from all walks of life, various faiths, ethnicities and socio-economic backgrounds. There was one resounding quality in mother’s life that brought all these people together in a tiny, overcrowded and uncomfortably warm room. They all wanted to give back a little bit of what she’d always given to them—love, acceptance and encouragement.

When I was a small child, my parents owned a nursing home called Hampton Manor. It was located on a narrow winding street, on the north end of town, surrounded by big gnarly trees with canopies of lovely green leaves, offering their shade to anyone passing by. There were beautiful flowers planted out front—all pinks and reds, because these were Mother’s favorite colors. Their fragrance welcomed every visitor who entered Hampton Manor.

“How in the world are you today, Mr. Pulley? You must be fine, because how could anyone be anything but fine on a day like today!”  Mother’s positive demeanor and uplifting cheerfulness had a way of setting the mood for all the visitors who entered that home. Her beautiful smile could light up a room.

She knew every patient—all one hundred and fifty by first and last name, their personalities, likes and dislikes, their family’s names, what they preferred for dinner and certainly what they didn’t. No matter how cantankerous some of those folks could be, Mother always knew precisely the right thing to say to quiet the troubled soul.

My summers were spent as a teen working in the nursing home, feeding patients, changing bed sheets, wheeling people down the hall in their wheelchairs and basically learning the art of the nurse’s aide. I found out then, just how hard my mother worked. I discovered how taxing people could be when not feeling well, or when they realized they were in the twilight of their lives.

Mother was always thinking up something to keep people in touch with the present, not allowing them to live only in the memories of their past. She’d organize picnics outside on the grounds and have visitors bring their pets to the event—a hilarious blend of critters and patients, all co-mingled together in giggling heaps, surrounded by metal walkers, wheel chairs and oxygen tanks. It was quite a sight.

We celebrated every fall by the return of the geese traveling south for the winter and the patients would make arts and crafts to commemorate the return of the winged wonders. There was a little pond close by the nursing home property and the geese knew exactly where to go. Every year, curious faces of all ages were pressed against windows in silent awe as the beautiful creatures made their graceful descent. It was a time of curiosity and fun at the nursing home as the wandering geese returned home. Mother encouraged a sense of exploration and mental stimulation for those in her care, as she was by nature a fun-loving and inquisitive person.

After hours in that place, walking endless miles from the north, south, east and west of the building, she’d still find time to come home and make the most amazing meals. My personal favorite was fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and her special home-made rolls.  The smell of that food made everyone’s mouth water and we would dig in greedily with no thought about anyone else. Mom would always get stuck with a wing, or some other unfavorable piece. She’d just smile and say, “Oh honey, don’t you know the wing’s the tastiest of all?”  Who was she kidding?

As I grew older and had a family of my own, I came to realize just how amazing my mother was. She handled both a wonderful career and a family with great finesse, and I never heard a word of complaint. She was grateful for all God’s great gifts and the wonders of life, her family and her ministry to those less fortunate.

My mother’s confidence came from the knowledge that she was doing exactly what God had called her to do.  She was fulfilling her purpose and carrying out the mission appointed to her. She was making a difference in the world—one life at a time. My mother’s greatest gift was the ability to look beyond her own anguish and see the suffering of others.

I find myself getting so caught up in my own world—the struggles and battles of my existence. I often forget that there is a world of people who are at the same moment dealing with pain and heartache.

Watching her example, I understood that all of us have been given gifts and talents—unique abilities to make a difference in the lives of those around us. It may not be as considerable as caring for one hundred and fifty needy patients in a nursing home. It may be as simple as considering the requests of a neighbor, or reaching out to a friend. But our lives are enriched when we take the time to extend a helping hand to those in need and find a way to use our God given endowments to produce a positive change in the world around us—one opportunity at a time.

It’s Mother’s Day again, and I now realize just how fortunate I was to have this amazing woman in my life.  She showed me, by her example, how to be the kind of mother and the type of person God designed me to be.  Thanks, Mom.

©2008, Tamra Nashman