Karin, Author at karin madden

January 7, 2014 by Karin 4 Comments

Bigger Cups Sizes And Thin Skin

I wish it didn’t matter to me. I wish I could say I don’t care.

I want to be liked. When I am not, it hurts. I wonder what I must have done to cause this perceived dislike, and return the favor – certain it is the other person’s problem anyway.

The skin thickens.

I heard a story once. A priest speaking at a retreat compared us to cups.

The larger our cups get, the thinner the sides. The thinner the sides, the more others can see Christ through us. We pour ourselves out and fill ourselves with Christ.

A woman excitedly responded,

So we want to have a bigger cup size!

The priest smiled and replied,

I choose not to answer that.

Laughter erupted in the room and the woman blushed,

Oh dear.

She is right. We want to have a bigger cup size and thin skin.

(Join me at (in)courage today for the rest of this story…)

Philippians 1:9-11

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.

December 16, 2013 by Karin 12 Comments

When The Rogue Waves Threaten To Take Us Down

That tooth popped right out.

Mama, it flaps when I drink water.

Will you pull it out?

I took the small trusting hand in mine and lead him to the operating room, aka the bathroom.

Tissue wrapped firmly around this dangling tooth; and I yanked. The chipped memory of a toddler falling face first onto wood flooring popped out without resistance.

Beaming, my boy squealed,

The tooth fairy is coming!

I grinned as I looked into that sweet face, gaping smile more holes than teeth.

Go show Daddy.

I couldn’t help but look at the chipped pearl and remember the day his face hit the floor and nicked personality right into that tooth. It was daddy and uncle’s watch, of course. Not that anyone has ever chipped a tooth on my watch, or gashed a knee, or knotted a baseball-sized lump onto the head.

Today is his birthday.

I remember now… a time that was on my watch. That day, five and a half years ago. A day we almost lost this beautiful, toothless face to the sea.

A storm brewed just off the coast. It wasn’t enough to keep us from digging feet into warm sand. We had just arrived. The ocean beckoned without letting up. We had to go down there.

The view, mesmerizing and soothing as the ocean whispered its strength. Deceiving – those waves that lull and slide onto the shore only to quickly disappear into the murk and mist.

My older ones, only seven, six, and four-years-old, jumped the teasing ocean as it licked the shore. My warrior held fast to hands and stood as an armed guard between them and the hungry sea.

My parents joined us for this vacation. Dad had hurried to the sand as quickly as we had, while Mom stayed behind to prepare a meal that only a grandmother could craft.

I remember meeting a woman. She stood as a watch tower over her own little ones, while we laughed that our children had the same name. I rubbed my expectant belly and breathed deep the salt air.

It came out of nowhere.

This beast of a wave roared, reminding us of the grains of sand that we really are.

She looked at me and yelled,

It’s coming in!

I saw my toddling 18-month-old wander toward the greedy water. My dad, eyes wide, moved his 81-year-old legs faster than I had ever seen. The wave, it was just too much. That surging force of endless ocean powered to the shore, grumbling and snarling at everything in its path.

It came out of nowhere. Nowhere.

All I could do was run. As dad and I enveloped my baby like armies strategically flanking its prey, my dad snatched up his small, unsuspecting body.

It wasn’t enough. Dad held him tightly, but the surge of the wave and the power of the retreat was just too much. The tide tore and pulled and ripped my baby from his arms. I screamed for my husband to help my father as he was pulled into the ocean.

I still don’t know how it could have ended this way… but, I am eternally grateful.

I reached them before the water could pull me down. My little boy’s body was completely submerged. The only glimpse of him was a sparkle of his blue and white swim shirt. The UV protection could do nothing to keep him safe. I saw his shirt and his face, eyes open wide, peering up at me from underneath a film of murky sea water. The wave taunted and pulled as I lifted my baby to open air. Pulling him toward my chest, I felt as though I would squeeze him right into my soul.

But, he didn’t even cry. He didn’t even suck for air. He breathed a steady calm breath as if he had been floating in peace, just waiting for mama to save him.

It was my dad who saved him. But really, it was our merciful Father who saved him that day.

The almosts, the could-have-beens, the what-ifs… they haunt sometimes.

This rogue wave of parenthood brings us face-to-face with time after time of…

I saved your life.

And, He does. Here and the hereafter.

Time and again He saves our lives.

And I am grateful for His mercy… most especially on the days that that rogue waves threaten to take us down.

Matthew 8:25-27

The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!” He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm. The men were amazed and asked, “What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!”

December 12, 2013 by Karin 8 Comments

When The A Falls Right Out Of Your PEACE

She just wouldn’t stop.

You know, one of those days when the two-year-old replaces peaceful playing and a rejuvenating nap with endless shrieks and crazed tantrums.

Propped on my hip while the casserole cooked far too slowly, she twirled her hair, sucked her thumb and retained the death grip on my shoulder. The one she’s held all. day. long.

That’s when we heard it. The crash.

No one seemed to be phased. Tinkerbell on TV offered much more intrigue and excitement than a jingling ruckus from the front room.

What in the world?

She and I – attached at the hip – shuffled around the corner to see.

There it was. The perfectly placed PEACE… wrecked. Silver jingle bells and all.

The A in our PEACE had just about enough for the day and decided to plummet straight down. Right onto my keyboard. This keyboard with the question mark already missing. Who needs more questions, anyway?

The damage caught my eye immediately. The perfectly smooth space bar now resembled a ski slope. Eh, who needs space? Ski slopes are so much cooler.

The V appeared to have taken a ding. V. What’s it for? Vengeance, villains, vultures. No thanks. What about victory? That one has already been written.

Very. Nah, it’s overused anyway.

Further investigation showed a hit to the tab key. Tab. It’s really just a quick jump ahead. There really are no quick jumps ahead. It’s best to go one step at a time. Don’t want to miss a thing.

So, there it was. The A in our PEACE had fallen.

No more A game. No more plan A. Now what?

What if there is no plan B?

What if we put all our plans and hopes and dreams into one basket; and plan B never has a chance to form?

We’d better have a good plan A.

I held her on my hip. Of course, the crashing jingle stopped her whining. Wreckage always seems to entertain us. We can’t seem to take our eyes off it. But, then, we want to know what comes next.

Our PEACE was missing its A.

All we have left is PE CE.

This picture of decoration perfection crashed and burned. Leaving in its wake a hole. No A. Instead, an F.

And it stopped her crying. And it stopped my fuming.

It crushed the keyboard and its unnecessary strokes; but, I can still type. Ski slopes are cooler anyway.

PEACE. When it’s the kind we strive for and insist on. When it’s the kind we try to emulate from magazine shots and pinterest. When it’s the kind that just sits on a shelf and sparkles pretty… but doesn’t really permeate our hearts. What good is that kind of PEACE?

Perfection. Expectations. Anxiety. Chaos. Exhaustion.

It’s not the kind of PEACE we want.

PE. Separated from the CE.

Perfection and Expectations – by our standards – are best far removed from the CE.

Christ and His promise of Eternity.

Christ. Eternity.

She and I looked up at the dangling remnants of a mama’s plans gone wrong. Yet, there was just something right.

Her crying stopped and mama… laughed.

Maybe the best way to find our peace is by leaving our A’ss behind. Anxiety, anger, arrogance, aggravation, agitation.

Maybe the missing A will leave some space… space to breathe.

Space to find the real peace… in the joy.

There are no A‘s in JOY.

Just. One. Yahweh.

May we all find PE CE this Christmas… without the A‘s.

Isaiah 9:6

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

December 10, 2013 by Karin 6 Comments

What To Do When The Guide Gets Lost

He looked up at me with those big blue innocent eyes.

We had travelled for weeks. Traveling can do a number on your digestive system. Especially when you are prone to allergies. Especially when you are six.

He didn’t want to go alone. They never do. The bathroom still ranks in the top three for most popular mama dates.

We were visiting friends. Friends we miss. Friends who have captured and taken hostage pieces of our hearts.

We condensed ten years of life into two weeks. It seemed more like 43 years of life, to tell you the truth. That whole thing about uncovering your roots.

I primped in the mirror as he contemplated 6-year-old life.

Mama, you know what I am most afraid of?

Examining my wrinkles and tired eyes in the mirror, I murmured,

Hm, what’s that, sweetie?

His face formed that thoughtful look he gets when he purses his lips and the one darling dimple in his right cheek burrows and begs a mama kiss.

I’m afraid of when you and Daddy die.

Who will guide us?

My eyes blurred in the mirror. Where do they come up with this stuff? Who knows the depth of a human heart? No matter the age.

Oh baby, don’t be afraid.

Do you trust me?

He nodded his blonde head vigorously, still perched on his throne.

To infinity and back, Mama.

I kneeled before him and took his soft young chin in my hand,

Well, you can trust God even more than that.

He’s the one guiding Mama and Daddy.

Even when we go, He will keep guiding all of you.

You will never… never… be alone.

He looked into my eyes with a seriousness beyond his young years. He paused just to take it all in.

Then with a twinkle, he replied,

Ok, mommy.

His face went from contemplative stare to a childish grin.

I’m done.

His question caught me off guard. I don’t know why I am ever surprised anymore. Sometimes we find our deepest fears in our most vulnerable positions. We find surprises and depth in the most ordinary of places. Even the potty.

The next day was the end of this whirlwind tour. We flew with the six pack for endless hours which seemed to multiply with each impatient shriek from the two-year-old.

Finally, home. The for-now home.

Elated to be back in our own beds no matter the zip code.

There’s just something about Christmas time that brings all our memories and emotions to a volcanic crescendo. Good… and not so good.

Another trip for my warrior left me solo with the littles for a short stretch of time.

The doing, and buying, and decorating, and preparing can just about do you in. It can just about snuff out the joy… and gratitude.

The words of a new friend lingered in my thoughts… center and savor. Amy spoke truth when she reminded me to center and savor this season. The drive to perfection just gets in the way. Perfection today could have just been called minimal madness.

And it got the best… rather, the worst, of me. A complete mama-meltdown. When in the world will I learn? How many years does it take to become that wise, calm, peaceful mother who looks knowingly across her room to see that the little things truly are the big things? The tiny pieces of this puzzle are what make the whole tapestry beautiful. Not a piece can be replaced.

But, me, I had a hissy fit. A snarling, self-centered pity party. Invites were sent to all my kids. They were thrilled.

The tears flowed and doors slammed. All me. The prettiest pictures can’t avoid the truth of our natures. Not so pretty.

Forgiving arms wrapped around mama’s neck. Cheeks were dried and kisses lavished.

That whole guiding thing? Don’t follow me today. It’s a rocky road.

Decorations resumed and moods improved. It wasn’t until hours later that I found her note. My little girl who watched the lava flow from her frazzled mom.

Dear Mom, I’m sorry your upset. I just wanted to say, I love you.

How in the world do they get it? When a mother just breaks right down and loses her way.

How in the world do the stay on the path? When mama gets lost in the woods.

How in the world do they know the words? When mom spews anger from her mouth.

Unless, they have found the better guide. The only Guide.

The One who shows them just where to go… and what to say. The One who whispers the truth when human words confuse the vocabulary.

Children. They really get it so much more than we do. God takes our best effort at mothering… at parenting… and turns it into something unimaginable.

A journey to His heart.

Deuteronomy 4:39

Acknowledge and take to heart this day that the Lord is God in heaven above and on the earth below. There is no other.

November 19, 2013 by Karin 21 Comments

The One Word I Want To Leave With My Children

Four plus decades. That’s what I am today.

On this birthday I will pack up a crew of six and prepare for the cross-country journey – back to the place this life’s story began.

The same house, the same streets, the same small red church that marks the turn.

We’ll load up our six pack, and my warrior and I will travel to the place it all started.

This time I am taking two small items I plan to use to capture memories in motion. A video and a voice recorder.

My parents, they have a million stories – about war-torn youth, Nazi evil, and the ravages of cruel governments. They have stories about siblings, and families, and grandparents. They have stories about all the people I never knew… or have only met a handful of times. These stories are the roots of us. I suppose at some point in time we all want to see our roots…

I listened to them when I was just a kid, but who really pays attention then?

And, now, I hope the memories return to a fading mind.

I want to capture every word. Wrap the words in writing and pass them on to my own little ones.

We really shouldn’t ever forget where we come from. No matter how pretty, or heart-wrenching, the picture.

It’s our stories that bring Him glory – in the end. Our stories are His story – from the very beginning. Even when we don’t see.

Their story will come… I will take the gray shades of life and etch them into black and white. The words will never cover a life, but they will leave a map.

A map for my own to follow – tracing back… in order to move forward. Never forgetting.

But, today… well, it’s my day. It’s my birthday.

And sometimes the details don’t really matter all that much. Sometimes there is just one thing you want to leave behind.

Sometimes it only takes a few words to cover a lifetime of things we wish we could do… or undo.

Sometimes it’s just one word that we want to burn into their hearts.

Sometimes the words we write… are the words we need to read.

This… this is what I want to leave with my children.

A Letter To My Children

I want to tell you it’s ok.

It’s ok if you forget. It’s ok if you don’t understand. It’s ok that you said what you said that time.

I want to tell you that I know.
I know how much you love me.
I know how frustrated you were sometimes, and that you wondered if anyone- especially mom -understood.
I know that you didn’t mean what you said that time. Or the other time, either.

I want you to see that I have felt the same way.
I have thought the same thoughts.
I have made the same mistakes.
I have wished my youth away… and then wished I could go back.

I wish I could go back.
I wish I could go back and listen to my parents all over again.
I wish I had paid better attention.
I wish I had asked more questions… and listened to the answers.

I remember some of the stories and wish I could listen to them again.
I remember the places we went.
I remember the meals Mom cooked.

I wish I could remember more.
I wish I knew where those places were.
I wish I knew the recipe for that one meal… and the other ones, too.
I wish I could sit in Mom’s lap, and listen to Dad’s stories.

I know what you are thinking.

You wish you could go back, too.
Stop.

Here is what I want you to remember.
This is what I want you to know.

I love you no matter what has happened.
I love you no matter what words and deeds you have thrown out there.
I love you even if you don’t come home enough.
I love you even when you are too busy.

I love you and it’s all ok.

This. This is what matters.

Believe.

No matter what people say to you.
No matter what they say about you.
No matter if they call you delusional, or gullible, or foolish, or wrong.

They will, you know.
They will make you doubt.
They will make you wonder.
They will tell you that God is a fake.

They are wrong.
Know this.
I have heard His voice.
He hears mine every time I place your names in His hand.

He hears you.

Believe.

Stick with the ones who believe with you.
You need each other.

Be kind to everyone.
Even when they are not kind to you.
You represent Him.
It’s a big job. He is a big God.

He can handle your doubt.
Your anger.
Your fear.
Your questions.
Your mistakes. Even the ones you make again and again.
He has you in the palm of His hand.

Believe.
I do.

So, when you begin to regret, and wish, and want to go back.
Stop.
Go Forward.

Time here is brief.
Make the most of it.
We, my babies, have forever.

Love ~ to infinity and back,

Mom

John 14:1-3

Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.

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Bigger Cups Sizes And Thin Skin

When The Rogue Waves Threaten To Take Us Down

When The A Falls Right Out Of Your PEACE

What To Do When The Guide Gets Lost

The One Word I Want To Leave With My Children

A Letter To My Children

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