Letters To My Children

For the last several years, I've been writing letters to my children. That seems kind of odd considering that I see my children fairly regularly and talk to them quite a bit. There's soooooo much more that I want to share with them though. More stuff than how OSU messed up their last football/basketball game ... more than how Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory reminds us of someone we know, but we never can figure out who ... more than how the dogs we own have taken over our lives. We do a lot of surface talking. Don't get me wrong! I'll take it! In fact, any time I can get any of my children to talk, I'll sit and listen for hours! But it seems that I don't get the "quality" time to really sit and visit with them, to find out what's going on in their lives, to delve in to feelings (which is pretty much downright torture for my sons to have to do anyway), and to share all of the wisdom that I have bottled up inside of me. (Yes, that was meant as a joke. My children will tell you that I never hesitate to share my "wisdom".)

So, because I really and seriously don't get that opportunity, I write letters to my children. Sometimes I write letters daily. Sometimes months might go by before I write to them. Most of the letters are fairly short, although a few ramble on for what will seem like forever. Unfortunately, my letters to my children are kind of like my blog posts -- erratic and who knows what they'll be like?!? But the heart and intent are there.

Topics in the letters might be: what God is teaching me, areas in my child's life where he's struggled but I've seen growth, gifts and talents of our children, praying for them, difficulties and struggles they're currently going through and seeing God's fingerprints in the midst of them, how much I love them and all of the reasons why I do, and so on. Many times I sit and laugh as I write because I'm so dang funny and my children will be reading these letters after I'm dead and gone. Maybe they'll appreciate my humor and wisdom then? I kinda doubt it, but a mom can dream, right? But even more often, I cry as I write. Why? Because there has really been no other area in my life like being a mom. It was my greatest challenge, the area where I felt my biggest defeats, my hardest struggles ... but at the same time, it was my biggest blessing, the largest arena of learning, and I'd love to still be in the midst of it.

I remember days wondering if my child would ever "get it". Will he ever learn to pick up his clothes and put them in the clothes hamper? Will she remember to look both ways before crossing the street? Will they hear God's voice telling them which path to choose? Will they look back on their childhood days fondly and want to repeat the same things with their own children? Will they remember a mom who had time for them, who listened to them, who loved them with a crazy and pursuing love? Or will they remember the mom who was impatient, demanding, and insecure in her own skin?

Even though my children have moved out of my home and have started families or homes of their own -- even though my children have jobs and are independent of me, God's showed me that my days as a mom are never over. Though I'm not tucking them in anymore, or listening for their car to drive in the driveway at curfew, or rocking them to sleep, I'm still praying over them, loving them, and writing them letters that are full of my heart. I expect them to read them after my funeral. Of course, I have several children who don't like to read, so it would be nice if someone would read the letters to them. 

And I'm grateful to their father -- the man who made all this possible. He was the one who encouraged me to stay home when our first child was born. I'll never forget when he told me that if we needed to eat beans every day for the rest of our lives, if that was the only way we could afford for me to stay home, then we'd do it. He was the one who told me he was 100% confident that I could homeschool our children and they wouldn't turn out to be social misfits or total idiots. He was the one who taught me that we need to pick our battles with our children. Having a spotless room did not qualify as a battle worth "dying on a hill" for. He taught me to relax, to laugh, to chill, to be less critical, and to be more patient (I didn't say that I mastered those lessons, but he definitely was a great teacher).

My job isn't done. I still pray over my children. I still tell them of my love. I still teach them. But this go-around, it's in letters ...

 

Favorite Moments

I've been trying to think on what have been my favorite moments of being a mom. I guess that's maybe a weird thing considering that I'm STILL a mom ... I'll always be a mom. It sounds like I'm thinking of retiring or something. Yes, my kids would probably appreciate that sometimes, but oh well! It can't be helped -- I am what I am. A mom. In essence, when they grow up, I kind of "retire", I guess. But it doesn't take much for the mom in me to come out full force when the need arises!! There have been a lot of incredible memories over the years though.

• Boys running imaginary bases in the living room
• Waking up at night in our full-sized bed and having 4 children laying between us ... on us ... over us (you get the picture)
• Having my son tell me he was going to live with me forever (he's a liar)
• Crawling in to the hospital bed with my daughter as she had tubes both going in to her and coming out of her. I remember trying to not squash any of the tubes or the cords, but she wanted me to hold her ... and there wasn't much that I wanted any more than that.
• Opening Christmas presents at 4:00 in the morning. Our pictures weren't very impressive that year. It was dark outside, and my husband and I had only had about 2 hours of sleep because we had been putting toys together. But the kids had awakened, been put back to bed, awakened again, put back to bed again, and awakened yet again before we finally gave up.

Just a few of my memories. I hang on to those memories, just like I hang on to the hand-drawn pictures and cards that my kids made over the years, or the stories with misspelled words and crazy illustrations. They're priceless to me. Examples? Oh! I'd LOVE to!

• The anatomically correct picture of me getting out of the shower that my son made for the Mother's Tea at preschool (Momma learned to lock the bathroom door).
• The note that one son gave to his brother threatening that "I know where you sleep". He didn't sign it ... just drew a face wearing glasses (he was the only child we had who ever wore glasses).
• The letter that my daughter wrote to the family that she now wanted to be called Lightning because she could run really fast.

I look back at my almost 30 years of being a mom and can honestly say that there hasn't been one favorite time for me. They've all been favorites. I loved the baby stage of rocking, cuddling, nursing, and playing. Seriously, is there anything any better than holding a precious sleeping baby? I loved the preschool stage of learning. Children at this age think you know it all and are sooooo wonderful. And what about the elementary school years when the kiddos are growing so quickly? They start branching out, finding friends, but are still firmly anchored to home. I loved the craziness of middle school. We always seemed to have a houseful of kids here -- ours and everyone elses. It was fun! I even loved the chaos of the teenage years -- driving cars, playing sports, deepening voices, hairy legs (The hairy legs just apply to the boys. Our daughter would NOT appreciate being grouped in this category.). True, there were moments in all of these stages that I wasn't too crazy about ... that brought fear or uncertainty, but overall -- it's been good. And now that all of our kids are young adults, I'm finding that this is a great stage as well. Okay, I admit there were times that I've cried over our kids, prayed over them and for them, cried some more, worried, and panicked way more than I should have, and probably didn't like a kid for some reason or another (my kids don't read my blog. I can say that.). I always loved our children though, even though I worried and cried and prayed and panicked and got mad. Now that they're adults, I like the people our children have become.

I continue to hang on to memories though. They're just not as "tangible" as the anatomically correct drawing or the photo of two boys covered in mascara and lipstick. They're more in my mind -- young adults sitting around a table playing a game, hollering and laughing ... getting a phone call to ask my advice ... helping with college homework in a class I've never taken before ... experiencing my husband and our sons watching a football game together (and it IS an experience, let me tell you! Shouting, body contortions, jumping, and screams. Gotta love it!). Regardless of how the memories are made, whether they're drawn or photographed or merely lived, they're all priceless and precious ... and have made me extremely grateful for what I've been given in the gifts of my children.

Crusty Meat Loaf

I knew that I had finally made it as a mom when I took the burnt, crusty part of the meat loaf for myself and served the better portions to my family.

I knew I was a mom when my two youngest sons would wrestle on the floor and scream at each other in a restaurant, and I'd sit there calmly acting like it happened every single day of my life. Oh yeah, it did!

I knew I was a mom when I sat on the metal bench in 105 degree weather without shade to watch my child skip around the bases.

I knew I was a mom when I'd be the only one up at 3:00 in the morning, peering out the windows to see if an adult child's car had pulled up in the driveway yet.

I knew I was a mom when my child drew a picture of me getting out of the shower -- anatomically correct, by the way -- to show at the Mother's Tea at school.

I knew I was a mom when I could walk down the hall in my church, hear a baby screaming in the nursery, and recognize that screaming child as mine.

I knew I was a mom when I'd holler at the ceiling to the upstairs bedrooms, "You don't want me to come up there!!"

I knew I was a mom when everyone else left the hospital to go home and sleep and I still sat there with my child.

I knew I had arrived as a mom when it seemed that I spent the better part of my day and evening praying for my children.

Yep, I've finally made it. And what did those kids do? They grew up ... moved out and moved on ... started families, careers, and lives of their own.

As for me, I still eat the crusty part of the meat loaf because I've learned to prefer it. I still wake up at 3:00 in the morning, but now it's to go to the bathroom. I can't help peeking out the window still at that time though. The habit is too engrained. And I continue to pray -- pray, pray, pray for my children.

It's what we moms do ...

What Now?

I've been a mom for 29 years. At that time in my life, I KNEW that was what I was supposed to do. Being a mom was my calling, my ministry, my life. The experiences of labor and delivery ... breastfeeding and diapers ... first tooth and first steps ... potty training ... play dates and kindergarten ... athletics ... driving cars ... dating ... missed curfews ... rebellion ... high school graduation -- all seem to be highlighted in my mind with my four children. I was a mom. This was just what I do. It was my life. And it was a life that I loved and cherished, that I enjoyed. Seriously, how can someone fall desperately in love with all four of her children?! But, I did.

Being a mom changed my life in so many ways. I truly learned to put someone before myself. I learned that being patient was a day-to-day lesson that I needed to constantly relearn. Other lessons I learned:
* Crayon marking on flat-paint walls don't come off without taking off paint.
* Speaking disrespectfully to your children produces children that speak disrespectfully to you.
* Children watch constantly. As a mom, I need to set the example in my home.
* Hide the vaseline from the kids or it will be on doorknobs, in hair, and on walls.
But above all, God taught me how to parent through His Word and His example, and I saw that even the best parents made mistakes and had imperfect children.

In 2010, my kids have all either married, graduated from college, or moved away from home. Now what?! For the first time in my life, I feel a little unsure. My identity was so wrapped up in my children. I'm a mom, for Pete's sake!! I never really looked ahead to when my job would basically be over. No longer am I in the "game" with my kids, but I'm on the sidelines as an observer. Hmmmm. It's not really what I had anticipated. And to be honest, it's definitely not what I would choose. I miss the days of baseball in the living room with imaginary bases ... of popping Barbie's head back on and being the hero ... of kissing away boo-boos ... of rocking sleeping babies.

This has been one of those topics that God and I discuss often as my children and I continue to grow older. Well, actually, it's more like my whining and crying until God gets my attention, and then the discussing can begin. God basically just listens to me, and occasionally He'll remind me of something. Some of the things that God has shared with me?

1) He's told me that being a mom was what I "did", not who I am. Instead, my identity is to be found in Him.
2) My job as a "coach" in my children's lives is basically over. I AM an observer at this point (unless they ask me for some guidance and advice, and how I love it when they do!). At this point, God is the coach, and I am on the sidelines. My job requirement at this point is to pray, pray, pray!! That's one job that will never quit.
3) My children were never mine in the first place. God gave them to me -- they were on "loan". My job was to teach them, train them, love them, and prepare them to enter the world without me. They need to stand on their own -- without me -- and lean on Christ. If they're doing that, then my job was one that was well done.
4) I have my wonderful husband. After all of these years of babies, toddlers, and teens, he still loves me and continues to enjoy being with me. I find that I love him more and more as the years go by. My "mom hat" might be on the shelf, but my "wife hat" still fits!

Even though I still sometimes question, "Now what?!", I know that God continues to have a plan for my life. I have to remember that I'm not just a wife ... or a mom ... those are both things that I DO, not WHO I AM. I'm Christ's and He's given me the privilege of ministering as a wife and a mother. Once again, it's just another day of Finding Me In Him.