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April 3, 2014 by Karin 4 Comments

Why We Have To Slow Down

We were still in the driveway when I crushed his little spirit.

Try as I did, or did not, I couldn’t contain the whipping lash of the tongue. And my 7-year-old crumbled.

We couldn’t be late, you see. He had to get that cavity filled. All he wanted was Lightning McQueen, but who really knows where in the mountain of matchbox Lightning would be?

I didn’t have time for that.

I drove on with my boy crying and his 9-year-old sister quietly coloring in the back. He should have known better. We had to go. No time for this.

Road ahead

It doesn’t take long. It happens quicker and quicker these days. No sooner have I pulled the lashing tongue back in my mouth, when my spirit begins to churn.

Why couldn’t I just let it go?

Why did I have to yell?

Why didn’t I just slow down for a minute?

We pressed on down the dirt-lined highways of this sprawling city. Cars rushing right and left.

Making the turn for the interstate, the chiming from the dashboard startled me.

The bright orange light flashed in my scowling face.

Empty.

Yep. Low on gas.

I merged our Madden cruiser onto the six lanes of asphalt and watched the numbers slowly tick down.

36 miles

35 miles

34 miles…

Low.

No more numbers guiding me now. Just a single message. Low.

I slowed the truck to a cruise and watched the cars race past us. Zipping in and out and far ahead. Everyone around us seemed to be living the same emergency, while we carried on with our Sunday-style grandma tour.

Riding the Steam Train

It was somewhere between billboards and casinos when I heard Him,

Slow down.

You’re missing it.

If you don’t slow down, you’ll reach… empty.

I exhaled as the line of cars continued to speed past us,

I am going too fast.

I hadn’t even stopped to notice.

His whisper came again,

Take your foot off the accelerator. You are burning your gas too fast.

Slow down and look around.

These moments will pass you by.

Roasting Marshmallows

Ducks by the pool

I watched as the world flew by and turned up our tunes.

Darling artist girl squealed,

I know that song! I love that song! We sang that at church!

My little Lightning lover grinned into my rear-view,

I know this song, too!

I winked and blew a kiss to the back. Then the thought,

What if we run out of gas before we get there?

And, why do I keep remembering the self-made emergencies, but I forget to stop worrying?

His voice interrupted,

There will be a place. Before you get there.

You have time.

We exited past the palm trees and headed toward the red-painted cliffs.

Red Rock

He paints straight lines on rocks scraping the sky, but we forget He has painted a path for us.

We rush and press our feet to the gas, while our tanks burn empty.

But we forget He walked, and veered, and slowed, and stopped – and changed the world.

It was there. On the left. Just before our final turn.

Fuel.

And enough time on the clock.

I filled our chariot as I pressed kisses against the window to the grinning face on the inside. Slowing down to see his blue eyes light with joy.

My heartbeat slowed…

my spirit pumped full again.

 

Ecclesiastes 4:4-6

And I saw that all labor and all achievement spring from man’s envy of his neighbor. This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind. The fool folds his hands and ruins himself. Better one hand with tranquillity than two handfuls with toil and chasing after the wind.

Karin Madden

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Faith, Motherhood, Patience Tagged With: Patience, running on low, slow down

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.

Snowman Love

Just the right words

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. 

Karin Madden

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Faith, Family, Motherhood, Patience, Together, Trust Tagged With: mama meltdowns, motherhood, Patience, together, trusting God

October 10, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

When You Are Ready For Battle

31 Days of Good Deeds 31 Days of Good Deeds

(click here for the series)

 ~ Day 9 ~

It’s been one of those days.

A day with patience in short supply and tempers flickering with every tiny twig thrown into the growing inferno.

The inferno inside a weary mom.

Fuming words have flown from this mama’s tongue today… followed sheepishly by,

I’m sorry.  Again.

The days we can’t seem to control our tongues and our tempers.  These days get to me the most.  Haven’t I learned yet?  Haven’t I gotten past all this? Shouldn’t I be better than this by now?

I’ve had years of practice in this patience place.  But, some days, I end up right at the beginning.

Frustrations and expectations get in the way and blur the truth.  We prepare for battle and get our weapons ready.  Ready to fire those jagged words… aiming to cut to the source of all our anger.

Then, sometimes, we are knocked from our battle stance.  Kids disarm us with kisses, hugs, and life-giving words.

Weapons down

Sometimes, we are ready to fire, and someone… a stranger… delivers an unexpected blow.  Of kindness.

Thank you, Diana (you can find Diana’s blog here), for sharing your story… and your humility…

Three weeks after I bought it, my brand-new-to-me used car started shifting like I was doing a bad job driving a standard, when in fact I was driving an automatic.  Since it was still under warranty, I took it back to the dealer/repair shop I had purchased it from to get it fixed. They tried a simple solution and that didn’t work, so I took it back for a second round of more intensive treatment.

It took a while for the part they needed to come in, but finally the day when my car was supposed to be ready drew near. My mother was going to be in the area of the dealership with my aunt and uncle the next day, and was willing to pick up the car for me.  I called ahead to find out if it would be ready and if there would be a charge for the repairs so I could send money with her if needed.

“No, you haven’t had the car very long, so that’s something we’re going to have to take care of,” the mechanic told me. I was happy with that answer, so I thanked him and told him to expect my mother the next afternoon. However, the next evening I found out that the car wasn’t ready when my mom went to pick it up.  Something more urgent had come up at the garage. I waited another day, and after I got home from work my mom told me that the mechanic had called and said the car was ready. However, the part had cost more than expected, so the mechanic said that the garage would only pay half the bill, as per my warranty, and I would have to pay the other half – $300. I was more than a little shocked and unhappy. One day I owed nothing, and the next, I owed $300.

Black thoughts filled my mind as I rode to the dealership with my mother the next day. I was ready to give the people at the dealership a piece of my mind and make sure they knew I would not recommend their business to anyone again.

I walked into the office, ready to do battle. It was empty, and my mother and I waited for a few minutes before I got up the courage to call “Hello!” into the empty space beyond the desk. Immediately the mechanic, a perpetually smiling man, emerged from the garage, apologizing for not hearing us come in. Before I could unload both barrels on him, he explained in a quiet voice that his boss had been gone that week and they had been short-staffed. He apologized for the miscommunication about the fees. He said he had to do what his boss told him, but he wanted to help me out personally in whatever way he could. I didn’t know what he meant by that, but I continued listening as he explained the work that had been done on my car and a couple of discounts they had given me. When he was finished, he again said, “I feel bad about this, so I want to help you out personally however I can.” With that, he pulled a fifty dollar bill out of his wallet and laid it on my car bill.
“Oh. You don’t have to do that,” I said, amazed at his gesture. But he again reiterated that he wanted to help, so with tears in my eyes I thanked him and paid the remainder of the bill. Here I had been ready to slaughter the man for going back on his word, and he had simply made a mistake during a stressful work week. His willingness to make it right, even though it cost him personally, restored my faith in humankind. The $250 dollars I had to pay was no longer a burden; it was a blessing and a lesson for me that I will never forget.
I cried the whole way home, rebuked for my evil thoughts and profoundly grateful for the kindness of a mechanic and the loving provision of my Heavenly Father.

 

Weapons down.

Thankfulness.  It trumps anger… every time.

 

Colossians 3:12-13

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.

Karin signature

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Good Deeds, Mercy, Patience, The Good Stuff Tagged With: battle words, weapons down

March 18, 2013 by Karin Leave a Comment

When Your Day Is a Bust, and You Are One of the Lucky Ones

It’s been one of those days.

I thought these days would become more infrequent as the kids get older.

I screamed so much that my throat hurts… and I feel like I deserve it.

Why, at the end of the day, is it so hard for us to forgive ourselves?

So much for the one good year goal.  All the days gone by in achieving the goal… washed away by tears of children today.

Great job, Mom.

One of those days.

It’s St. Patrick’s Day.

We celebrate that one around here.  The stealthy leprechaun visits and leaves a trail of treasure hunt.  The end of the rainbow brings a pot of overflowing craft supplies… and overflowing joy from little ones.

Then, the downward slide.

Projects, procrastination, perpetual whining.

The volcano of mama erupts.  Not once… but over and over.

I never knew it would be so hard… to hold my tongue.

I never knew I would fail at it so frequently.

I never knew I would hurt the hearts of little ones… for whom I would throw myself into a fiery volcano.

But it is hard, and I do hurt them.  And they forgive me.  And I forgive them.  But… I am not so quick to forgive… myself.

Maybe they won’t remember…

This day of Irish celebration… a bust.

lucky ones

I read something the other day.  Something about feeding His sheep.  The words drew me in… they reminded me of what it’s really like out there.

I, called to feed His sheep… spent the day feeding my woes.

With my full pantry.

With my full house.

With my full closets.

With my full belly.

With my full arms.

With my full heart.

Poor, poor me.

We feel quite helpless sometimes.

We watch the terror enveloping our world.

We watch our economy like a growing snowball… plummeting down the steep mountainside.

We watch as people suffer, and starve, and die.

We feel the pinch to our own purses.

We feel the tug at our hearts.

We feel the fear and the frustration.

We watch it all happen… and we feel pretty helpless.

Don’t you sometimes have the urge… to do something?  Just anything… that matters?

When you feel like the day is a bust, and the world is busted… don’t you just want to do something?

We did.  Today.

The day was a bit of a bust (in mama’s mind).  Things just didn’t go the way they were planned.

Then, the moment.  A moment of peace.  Eyes went to a face on the screen.

A pretty little face.  A little girl in a white dress with a big fluffy pink bow crowning her shiny dark locks.

She has been waiting 228 days.  Almost. One. Year.

For months and months she has waited for someone… anyone… to pick her.

She needed a sponsor.

Our eyes… captured by hers.  

Her birthday… the same as my oldest baby’s.

We are the lucky ones.  

It is St. Patricks’s Day.

I yelled too much.  Kids whined too much.  We planned too much.

We. Have. Too. Much.

When He called us to spread our luck… which we know is the nickname for blessing… we listened.

I can’t wait to write her!

Oh, she’s so sweet. 

I think she will be so excited to hear she has a sponsor on St. Patrick’s Day!

My own little one gleefully exclaimed as she pranced around the room.

We are the lucky ones.

We just forget sometimes.

Our new friend across the oceans just reminded us.  She is the blessing.  She just doesn’t know it.

Her name, of course… is Irish.

Not an Irish name.

Her name. is. I.R.I.S.H.

She is the one waiting at the end of our rainbow today.

 

John 21:17

The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”  Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?”  He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”  Jesus said, “Feed my sheep.

Karin signature

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Compassion, Faith, Forgiveness, Motherhood, Patience Tagged With: lucky ones, one of those days, sponsor a child

January 10, 2013 by Karin 6 Comments

One Good New Year Goal

It’s only 9 days into the new year.

The momentum of a turning calendar page rushes us into the new.

New goals, new ideas, new resolutions.  Yes, new me.

This fire set and titled “I’m-finally-gonna-get-it-right.”

Only 9 days into the new year… and the fire is doused with reality.

All the lofty goals for time management, clutter reduction, quality kid time, dedicated husband moments… all the goals set in motion on day 1… have popped and fizzled.  An ember remains.

Where did the fire go?

I was determined.

What happened?

Hanging on to the frayed ends of a the New-Year-Goal rope… it slips from the hand.  Fingers left burning with the memory of the plan.

Is that it?

The big fail?

One bad day, bad moment… and that’s it?

live it now

We were running late.  This is not necessarily unusual for mama and a sixpack.  We were running late.

Then, the sight before me zoomed perspective.

Same old banter, same old breakfast, same old hurry up… hurry up… hurry up.

The ember, this ember of goals planned and unaccomplished… the ember ~ sparked.

This is where the goal is born.  Not in dreams of perfect organization, perfect scheduling, perfect dates, perfect moments.  The goal lives right here in the mess of it all.  The goal to stop.  Breathe.  Enjoy.  Live.

I. Did. Not. Yell.  Now, I’m sure there are those who never raise a voice in the madness of a morning kitchen (or claim not to).  For many of us, the words repeated in the hustle of a household… and repeated… and repeated, these words take on a life and drain every drop of goodness.  These words take on a volume of their own, hastily followed by scowls, furrowed brows (we know these mama-lines etched between the eyes)… and finally, tears.  The yelling begets… more yelling.  Frustrating.  Pointless.  Crushing.

Today.  Today was different.  I did not yell.  I knew the softening of my demeanor would calm the masses… and make us late.

So what?

So, we would be late.

Would this matter in 10 minutes?  10 hours?  10 years?

Nope.

Would my mama fury bring peace, teach love, enable joy?

Not so much.

What if the yelling stopped?  What if the moment was just plain… lived?

We were late.  The kids laughed.  My heart rate slowed.

The joy was born.

The dear tutor looked up from the young faces peering into hers.  Her eyes smiled at mine.

Oh, we are so happy to see you all are not sick.  We’re glad you made it.

I grinned, trying to keep the disruption to a minimum.

I’m sorry we’re late.  I decided not to yell today.

Wisdom-soaked eyes glistened at me from this mama soul with children’s children.

Good choice.

There it is.

The goal.

Yes, the organization, time-management, quality-togetherness goals are good.  They are good, valid, honorable goals.  There is one that trumps any of these giant leaps.  One goal.

Soak it in.  Let it be.  Live it now.  Stop yelling (yes, I know, much self-grace required).

Stop yelling.

Let the goals begin.

 

Proverbs 14:29

A patient man has great understanding, but a quick-tempered man displays folly.

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Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Family, Joy, Motherhood, Patience Tagged With: live in the moment, mama temper

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Meet Karin

Hi! My name is Karin Madden. Writer. Warrior wife. Mom of six pack. Homeschooler. German-blooded southerner. Welcome to the place where I explore what it means to grow stronger - spirit, soul, and body. I write to inspire and encourage - to remind you we are not alone. By being bold with grace and speaking truth in love, we can become who we are meant to be. I'm glad you are here.

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