Motherhood Archives - Page 2 of 12

October 8, 2014 by Karin 2 Comments

The Monsters We Can’t See

Her brown eyes met mine with the look only a child can muster. She searched my face and whispered,

It’s like a monster. And it’s hungry.

We walk the same floors day in and day out and we think we know everything there is to know about them. But, even these little ones have thoughts hidden from us. Thoughts they think are wrong, or strange, or different. Thoughts they become too ashamed to mutter – even to mom.

Their young faces are like open books. But you know what they say – never judge a book by its cover.

The look on her face uncertain. A hint of worry.

I took her face into my hands,

Tell me what it’s like. Tell me what is in your mind.

I couldn’t take my eyes off this face I have watched grow breathtakingly beautiful with time. I noticed things here and there. I saw, but I really didn’t know the ways a mind can become enslaved. Sometimes the worst demons are the ones we don’t see.

The flood gates opened as she poured the details of every obsessive worry, every compulsive act. My mind went to the light jokes we toss around about our OCD ways, but the joke of it is lost in the reality. It’s no joke.

She described in detail every little thing I had noticed along the way, and too many things I had never seen.

I squeezed her to my chest and stroked her hair,

I’m going to take you to see a lady doctor this week. You know, when you have allergies, you go to an allergist. When you need help, you ask for help.

You are not OCD. You have it, and you will tell it to go away. And we will ask for help.

The relief on her face broke through the clouds beginning to shadow her trusting child eyes. In a moment, she seemed older,

Oh thank you, Mom. Thank you for noticing. I thought I would have this forever. And it’s exhausting.

Suddenly aware of the monsters trying to grip her life. And sometimes we just need one soul to tell us it’s ok to ask for help. Someone to whisper,

Shame is the monster. Silence is the monster. Secrecy is the monster.

Sometimes we have to pry our eyes open, and then pry open the eyes looking into ours. Eyes pried open is the only way to see the sun rising at dawn. And sometimes is really is darkest just before the dawn. The encroaching light whispering,

Wake up.

The sun peers through, warming these souls chilled by uncertainty.

There is nothing new under the sun – and nothing to hide from the Light.

It’s in the light of truth where we can finally see the monster for what it is… a lie.

You want to know the secret about secrets? It’s this. The secrecy is what will eat you alive. The secret itself has no power over you. Once you whisper the truth –

you are free.

Ephesians 5:8-10

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord.

October 5, 2014 by Karin Leave a Comment

The One In The Mirror

I knew I would need it today. I grabbed my armor and headed toward the door.

We all need it really. The Superman shirt.

I grabbed the long-sleeved one a year ago. But it’s fire hot here, so I quickly realized the short sleeve version was a necessity.

It spotted me from the rack and screamed my name,

Take me with you! You are going to need me.

Less than ten bucks. You can’t beat that for full armor.

Today became a grocery day. There are only so many times I can hear,

We have noooothing to eat. Nothing.

I opened the pantry and have never seen nothing look so plentiful. But, like every dedicated Supermom, I grabbed the keys and tried to sneak away.

Fat chance.

Kids streamed out the door wailing,

Take me with you!

Because the grocery store is just that awesome. And off we went. Supermom and a handful of Supermoms-to-be.

We skidded through the store with two carts in tow. This rattling train with straggling passengers who seem to spy all the goodies on those low shelves. Brilliant strategy placing those kid magnets at the three-foot eye level. Brilliant. We cruised through the store these helpers and I.

I smiled at their grinning faces and mused,

It’s nice with you here.

Kids seem to find happy places in the most unlikely locations. Like the grocery store, or the waiting room, or the back of a grocery laden truck.

Kids just seem to find happy places. And I just want to be around them.

We crawled our way to the checkout and in the rush to help mom. help mom. help mom…

The containers dropped. Both of them. And green salsa splattered my jeans, my shoes, and my tear-filled five-year-old,

I’m so sorry, Mommy…

I drew a deep breath as the clerk and bagger eyed me closely. Grinning, the bagger uttered,

Supermom.

I exhaled and put my arm around my sweet teary girl,

Yea, that’s right. Supermom.

My frazzled nerves whispered in my mind,

More like Surviving Mom. That big S for just plain old Survive.

Times like this are when all the mommy practice is put to the test. And I’ve flunked that test a time or ten. Patience and forgiveness. I looked into those sweet brown eyes and thought,

If I’m going to wear the shirt…

We cleaned the mess, loaded our stash and headed out the door.

After unloading the goods and the exuberant re-entry into our hungry home, my oldest girl smiled at me,

Good thing you wore your Supermom shirt today. You really need the super powers. You know… patience and forgiveness. Moms really need those super powers.

And she’s right. Not just because of spilled salsa or grocery store disasters. Not because the clamoring and whining wreak havoc on our frayed nerves. We need them for ourselves.

Because no one is tougher on a mom, than Mom herself.

So, today, I will use the super powers where the oxygen mask must go first. On myself. We can practice patience and forgiveness on the ones who watch our every move, but we have to start with the one in the mirror.

Carry on SuperMoms. You have done enough for today. You can rest now.

Genesis 2:2

By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work.

October 3, 2014 by Karin 4 Comments

When You Think It’s All Going Too Fast

I’m shuffling from room to room dragging pounds and pounds of dirty laundry.

Actually pounds and pounds is an understatement. It’s more like tons. Six kids can crank out a load of dirty.

But, I’m not complaining. I actually enjoy the sanctuary of the chug-chug-churn-churn in the cozy room tucked past the kitchen. The kids aren’t very interested in that room. A nice refuge for Mama.

I remember shuffling from room to room thirteen years ago. I was full-up swollen to the rim with a new life waiting for his entrance. I thought I’d be pregnant forever. Vomiting and all. We pregnant women tend to believe the hefty weight of new life will never leave our bladder; but we are wrong.

The day arrives. The tiny gift from God emerges, sucks lungs full of life, and screams. For about three more years. Well, there is some peace and rest in there, too. And the long days stretch into short years. Before we know it, that baby prancing on our bladders and wriggling for the freedom found only in Mama’s arms… that baby, grows up.

And this is where our hearts burst and ache all at the same time.

I look over at my boy and can’t help grinning. This boy who thought he would be little forever and,

When will I get taller?

I can’t contain the smile, because I’ve told him time and again,

Just wait. You’ll grow taller than me. You’ll be big before I can stand it.

He sees me smiling and ventures across the room for a hug. They still do that, you know. Even at almost thirteen. I wasn’t sure if the big boys would still want those Mama hugs, but they do.

We are nearly eye-to-eye and that familiar dread creeps into my mind.

We don’t have much more time. I don’t think I can bear letting them go.

We see our friends and family send kids to college, while we nostalgically watch our young friends bring new life home.

It all goes too fast. Our parents and grandparents said it would. But, we didn’t really believe it – or want to hear it.

The faster the downhill snowball of parenthood, the more we dig our heels into the ground trying to stop the momentum. But we can’t.

And, I’m tired of being sad about it. And dreading it.

I remember the hope my sister-in-law gave me years ago when I asked her what her favorite age was with the kids.

Every age has been the best age. I’ve loved every year. It changes, but it’s amazing to watch them grow… to see the people they become.

We bring home these babies and before we know it the babies have deep voices, and whiskers, and look us right in the eye.

I’m done with the dread and the wondering if my heart will be able to take it. Because I know it will. Dreading the journey because we think it will end is like dreading the gift before we’ve opened it. The journey IS the gift.

My boy wraps his arms all the way around me and suddenly I realize…

The tiny arms were just a glimpse of the whole picture. These long arms with the hands as big as mine have been waiting to find their way full around my shoulders.

We have an eternal journey down this road. Shoulder to shoulder. There is much yet to see.

And the Light shines brighter than I realized all those thirteen years ago…

Isaiah 42:16

I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.

May 7, 2014 by Karin 12 Comments

When You Don’t Know How To Forgive Yourself

The phone rang through the sizzle of the searing meat on the stove.

Taco Monday. Not nearly as clever as Taco Tuesday, as my girl pointed out, but it’s Cinco de Mayo. A day to celebrate our Mexican heritage – thought it’s only a fraction for this six pack of ours. A grandmother of a great-grandfather. Born and raised in a border town in the blazing Texas heat… a very long time ago.

I had a few conversations with this grandfather of my warrior. A brilliant man whose heart bloomed beautifully as his mind aged. I remember the stories that brought a twinkle to his eyes. The time he ran away when his parents adopted a little sister. He was ten-years-old and found this new sister an imposition. He laughed as a 95-year-old man recalling his childhood antics. His life stretched a full 98 years. Though my children had prayed for a full one hundred. Who gets to live that long? They wanted him to wear the badge of honor.

I wonder if his mother ever dreamed her boy would live to be on old man with grandchildren upon grandchildren. A man who touched the cheeks of his great-grandchildren.

I wonder if his mother thought that far ahead? It’s almost too far to look down the road. Besides, we are supposed to live right now, aren’t we?

The sound of the phone drilled through my thoughts of tacos and dinners and heritage and old age and mothers.

I scooped the phone to my ear,

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Her voice trembled through the line,

Hi Karin, how are you?

We can just tell, can’t we? We can hear in the tremor of one small syllable of a dear friend’s voice when the flood of salt is close to the rims of blurring eyes,

What’s wrong? Why do you sound so sad?

The barrier broke as she poured her aching mama worries through the line. The ebb and flow of her voice washed over us both as she described every fear, every worry, and every heartache her sinking soul couldn’t hold. We all end up here sometimes. Paddling upstream. Clamoring for air, and relief, and any reed we can hold on the shoreline. We all end up here – grasping at straws.

We talked like two oarsmen trying to find a rhythm we could both understand. Trying to make sense of the choppy waters we find ourselves paddling through furiously. And sometimes the rowing is so much easier with two. Sometimes we need to know someone is holding the other oar – praying to God we don’t sink under the weight of ourselves.

The words flowed on about motherhood and mess-ups and maternal mayhem, until she asked the question,

Karin, how do you forgive yourself?

How do you forgive yourself when you mess up?

There it was. The place our river turns to white water rapids. Guilt.

And we just drown under it.

Guilt. How do we forgive ourselves when we make the same mistakes over and over again?

How do we forgive ourselves when we lose tempers or sanity?

How do we forgive ourselves when we turn out to be less than the mothers we expected to be? When our ideas become vapor? When our plans wash down the stream far from view?

How do we forgive ourselves when who we are turns out to be less than whom we can accept?

I stammered over my reply. It’s not easy to explain the demon you battle yourself. It’s not easy to describe the end of the rapids when you are stuck in the middle of the water yourself,

Well, I guess, we have to remember that when we don’t forgive ourselves – we are sort of calling God a liar. He forgives us, but we are telling Him – He must be wrong.

She sighed,

I know. And that makes me feel even more guilty.

Yea, me too.

And I’m tired of this wasted emotion. I’m tired of it when I hear my son sink under the weight of the same snarling beast. Guilt. And I wonder if he learned it from me.

I’m tired of it. I’m tired of the emotion that lies to us and tells us we won’t get it right, and even when we do – it won’t let us forget the times we didn’t. The blade cuts to the soft white underbelly of a sinking soul.

So, my friend, this is the way I see it. Guilt is the part of the ride where the river forks.

You can keeping riding that dangerous wave as the current pulls you toward the cliff plummeting into the spray of murky depths. Or you can grab the oar and steer and paddle like hell – until you find yourself on smooth waters on the other side of that fork.

But, you are going to have to believe the One who forgave you first. And you are going to have to throw your sisters – the rest of us moms – an oar so we can help you steer. Because see, we were never supposed to raft down this journey alone.

And in this ever-changing current of motherhood… a river runs right through it.

John 7:37-38

On the last and greatest day of the Feast, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.”

May 1, 2014 by Karin 2 Comments

The Only Way To Grow A Garden

He keeps jumping around me. He won’t stop asking for the Coke. But c’mon, it’s 9 pm. He knows better.

I only allow a little bit of the caffeinated poison, and only early in the day. And only when I’m feeling a little bit more gracious.

I remember wanting that stuff as a kid. My mom would only get it on holidays. Only one holiday, as I recall. It was a New Year’s Eve treat. That’s it.

He’s up late and he’s growing up fast. And they all said it would happen, but I didn’t really listen. I was too busy trying to figure out how to grow this little guy. How to start a garden and build it to flourishing.

I was too busy trying to live on no sleep, no sanity, and no idea what the next stage would bring. I was too busy trying to figure out the rules to this game. No one gives us the perfect gardening book when we plant the first seed. We have to learn by shoving our hands right into the dirt. We dig in and get our head into the task; but, really, it’s the heart that goes first.

I can still see his face the moment he breathed his first breath. I see the bow of his lips and the blue of his eyes. I looked into his face as his heart beat rapidly against my sweat-soaked chest. Our hearts beating separately for the first time. I remember looking into his expectant eyes as motherhood grabbed hold of my soul,

I’ll show you how to live.

The rules we grow up with – they root in our minds and plant themselves firmly in our plans.

It’s where we learn how we are going to do this whole thing. We have nothing else to go on. Just the patterns set before us and the familiar footsteps in the garden. We follow the steps and know they’ll take us somewhere we know by heart.

We follow the places our own moms and dads have gone. We follow because we trust they knew what they were doing. We keep tiptoeing along and watch the garden of our youth grow into a forest.

The forest out there sometimes overwhelms us and we wonder if mom and dad actually had any idea, or is it just us who have not one clue. I’m pretty sure we all get lost in the weeds here and there.

Some of us get tangled up and choked in the weeds for a good long time.

Then, one day, a Gardener comes along and cuts the thorny and wilting places from us. We breathe deep and find we are free.

We run past the places we grew up and high-five a few lifted hands along the way. We run and think we just might have an idea what this whole thing is about.

Then. We become parents.

Now we find ourselves tending our own garden and we see all the mistakes our parents made – the same ones we find pouring from our own lips, the things we judged with our I-am-so-going-to-do-better-than-that attitude, and the know-it-all smirk fades from our sun-parched lips.

We never knew gardening was so… hard.

Ours are now the footsteps being traced and followed and watched and studied and criticized and analyzed.

Ours are the steps these young trusting ones put more stock in than the sun itself. They just trust.

And we wonder if we have what it takes.

We keep walking. We keep weeding. We keep pruning and nourishing and trimming and watering. We keep on trying.

And if we have figured anything out, we know the only way to garden… the only way to grow something right… no matter what our footsteps may have looked like…

The only way to grow our garden well – is on our knees.

Matthew 13:31-32

He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”

The Monsters We Can’t See

The One In The Mirror

When You Think It’s All Going Too Fast

When You Don’t Know How To Forgive Yourself

The Only Way To Grow A Garden

Meet Karin

Search the Sunrise

What I Write

Sunrise Archives

Pinning at Sunrise

Recent Sunrise Posts

Sunrise on Facebook