Wrapped around my finger

"Where is it?" I asked with an edge of panic in my voice. "It was here just this morning." I began an inch by inch search on my hands and knees on the bathroom floor. Nothing but two mismatched hair elastics and a dust bunny.

While giving the kids a bath the night before, I had taken it off along with my watch, wedding ring and earrings. All were still there on the counter where I'd placed them, with a singular exception. The little band of gold with tiny sapphires was given to me by my husband nineteen years ago. Its monetary value was negligible, but its sentimental value was priceless.

My husband must have heard the panic in my voice, because he woke from a sound sleep and joined me in the bathroom. "What happened honey?" he asked with concern. When I explained, he tried to focus sleepy eyes on the ecru laminate countertop. As if I could have somehow missed it, he resumed the same search. When he received the same result, he focused on the usual suspects: the kids.

Depressed, I went into our bedroom, and laid down on the bed. Of course, the entire family followed me there (The personal space of a mom being non-existent.) While I tried to ignore them, the interview next to me went something like this:

Daddy: Did any of you take Mommy's ring?

Rebecca (Age 7): Nope. No way.

Tori (Age 5): Oh the pretty one with the blue stones on the counter? I haven't seen it.

Sarah (Age 2): Yes. I played with it.

Daddy: Where did you put it?

Sarah: I put it on the ceiling! (Jumps up and down on the bed, and tries to touch the ceiling)

Daddy: Where did it go then?

Sarah: (laughing and jumping) I don't know.

Three little girls, oblivious to my sadness, jumped on top of me and cuddled next to me. Three different conversations all hurtled at me simultaneously, but I heard none of them. I thought about the little ring, the day he gave it to me, and how much I missed it.

I buried my head under my pillow. I envisioned taking the sink apart and searching the U-Bend in the toilet.

Small fingers poked my back. "Mommy. Mommy. What's you favorite thing in the world?"

I turned my face toward my oldest daughter who looked upset. "Is it the ring?"

"No sweetie. Of course not. You three girls are my favorite." Smiling, I reached my hand around to brush the blonde hair away from her forehead. I pushed away thoughts of my lost ring and cherished my priceless treasures; three giggling blonde girls.

Of course it was then I saw it. As I ran my hand through tendrils of my daughter's hair I found the ring. Right there, where I left it, still on my finger.

We must have laughed for half an hour. That tiny ring felt so comfortable on my hand, I couldn't even tell I was wearing it. In my myopic panic, I neglected to look in the most obvious place, on my hand.

It brings to mind some spiritual questions too. Are you facing a difficult situation in life and searching for answers? Do you feel lost? Seek God and He will be found. He is the nearest, most obvious answer. Our almighty God is closer than a ring upon your finger, right where you left Him.

Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:12

For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. Isaiah 41:3

Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know. Jeremiah 33:3

Bite your tongue! Part deux

"Look out Mom!" volleys an energetic warning from my five year old, just as something slimy and yellow zooms past my head. It lands with a juicy splat on the just mopped hardwood floor of my music room.

"Don't slip on the banana peel!" Tori giggles uncontrollably at her joke.

Inwardly I am shouting. "Ahhg! Not on the clean floor!" But I remind myself to watch my words.

Outwardly I cringe and force myself to smile.

The feigned smile breaks the ice and I say,"That was a silly joke when I was little too."

I pick up the slippery banana peel between thumb and forefinger and carry it to the trash.

That's not so hard... yet.

Bite your tongue!

Today, I am going to make a real effort to control the words I use. In all the small frustrations of mothering, I am going to make a conscientious effort to use only loving and encouraging words.

The Bible says, Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing. Proverbs 12:18

It is easy so far, since two daughters are already off to school and one is still asleep.

How will this end up at dinnertime with three cranky, hungry and tired girls? Lord Help Me.

Stay tuned.

Footprints

I watch my two year old daughter stomp in the snow in the driveway.

She walks up and down, staring at her boots.

"Look Mommy, I make footprints!" Delighted, she turns in circles and makes tracks all over the driveway. Wherever she has walked, she has left an imprint. She leaves a long trail but it is impossible to follow.

It leaves me wondering, where am I walking? What kind of footprints am I leaving in my life? Should someone follow in my steps? The journey in motherhood is seldom straight, with the path seeming to lead back, forth, and sometimes in circles.

Please God direct my paths. Make me a mother worth following. Make the way clear, and may I follow your footprints.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not unto your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:5-6

Recipe for Disaster

Do you ever get the feeling that you are moving backward in your attempts to clean your house?

I do. Frequently.

I love a clean house, but have made it a priority not to obsess on domestic tasks while raising my kids. As you can tell from the title of my Blog I have found that Dust Keeps (Kids Don't). There is a certain basic standard of cleanliness that must be maintained, and raising three daughters often presents a daily battle to keep the standard. Use the below example as evidence.

Today my second daughter came home from school with a "Snowman Soup" kit. It included a hot cocoa pouch, a bag of marshmallows, a candy cane, and three Hershey Kisses.

"Can I make it Mom? Pleeeeeease! " begged my impossibly cute five year old.

I didn't realize that my response "Sure." would then render several rooms of my house look like testing site for an chocolate atomic bomb.

Innocently enough, Tori (age 5) began with one mug with water and cocoa powder. I stepped out of the room while she stirred it to pick up the family room.

Unbeknownst to me, she found her child-sized tea set and decided to pour and serve cocoa in cups slightly bigger than a thimble. An adorable concept of course, but in practicality the pouring of hot staining items into tiny fragile items by sticky, unsteady five year old hands is not really a workable equation. It was rather, a recipe for disaster.

"Uh-oh. Mommy, I spilled a little bit."

"No problem," I called from the next room, "Just grab a paper towel."

What happened next is a blur of marshmallows and melted chocolate. Tori brought me a miniature hot cocoa. "Thank You!" I said happily and then set it on the end table in the family room.

In came daughter #3, Sarah, who proceeded to knock off the aforementioned mini cocoa on the carpet. It was followed closely behind by Tori, in her disappointment of her sister's spill, accidentally tipped her teapot of cocoa, melted kisses, and candy cane pieces on the couch.

I stood up, noticeably annoyed, to retrieve paper towels and try to keep my temper. I reached the kitchen to find that hot cocoa was splattered all over the room. Hot cocoa on the table was dripping through the seam of the table forming a pool on the floor. Partially congealed marshmallows stuck to my socks and three of four chairs. There was cocoa on the wall and a trail of it to the family room, and the paper towel holder.

"What happened in here?" I said in a tone that betrayed my irritation.

Two little girls peered nervously at Mom in the kitchen.

"Don't worry Mom. I'll clean it all up." Tori gathered all the sticky and dripping tea set pieces and took them down the hall (still dripping) to the bathroom sink.

While on my way to get 409 and carpet cleaner I heard, Crash! followed by quickly by "Oh no!" and "Mom!"

Tori stood at the sink with tears in her eyes. She held a fragment of a broken cup in one hand. Cocoa, and bits of candy cane dribbled down the front of her shirt, across the counter and into the sink.

I held my breath. Big tears rolled down her cheeks. Instead of yelling I hugged her. Knowing I was transferring the cocoa dribble to my best sweater, I started to chuckle. She looked up at me with questioning blue eyes and we laughed together.

Oh Lord. I am so grateful for my children. Help me to laugh at life's little messes and to realize that true contentment is not found in perfection in myself or my home.

Miracles Still Happen

http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/01/05/mother.baby.revived/index.html

Why does morning have to come so early?

Snuggled beneath a down comforter and flannel sheets while blissfully cocooned in warmth, I dream about beaches and palm trees. The beeping begins. Staccato and innocent at first, it reminds me gently to wake up. beep, beep, beep.

Since I am still miles away in my subconscious, the beeping continues. Louder and more abrupt as if to say "I mean it. Time to get up." Beep, Beep, Beep. I pull the covers over my head and start clinging desperately to sleep.

Thankfully, my tropical dream does not give up easily. In my mind I still see gentle waves and feel the light of the sun on my face. But suddenly I hear it; the loud insistent beeping shatters the stillness of my house and dissolves my dream with its annoying BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

I throw the covers off and reach across the nightstand to locate the rudest, most unrelenting piece of electronics I own. With a satisfying thump, I slap the button on top of my alarm clock and sink back into my cocoon of warmth in search of tropical paradise and just ten more minutes of sleep.

The maddening beeping returns ten minutes later. In semi-concious childlike petulance I say to myself, I'm not getting up. No one is going to make me. I'm staying right here.

As in reply, a flood of responsibilities fill my mind: three girls to wake, feed and dress, while getting two of them off to school, and a jumble of other boring responsibilities to mundane to list.

I shrug off my cozy blankets and locate my fuzzy bathrobe. My impression in the pillow calls to me like a matching puzzle piece. Regretfully, I leave the bedroom in search of the coffee maker and the beginning of my day.

Holding a steaming mug in two hands in the pre-dawn quiet of my kitchen I pray, Lord help me be successful today. Help me to accomplish all the tasks set in front of me, while taking care of the family you have given me.

On my way to wake my daughters, I pass my bedroom and see the innocent alarm on my bedside table. I nod respectfully at the victor and turn away from the siren call of my bed.

How long will you lie there, you sluggard? When will you get up from your sleep?A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest-and poverty will come on you like a bandit, and scarcity like an armed man. Proverbs 6: 9-11

Musings from the Minivan

Overheard from the backseat:

Sarah (Age 2): (looking out window at snow-capped trees) Why is snow white?

Me: I don't know...God made it that way.

Sarah: Why did he go and do that?

Peace and Quiet

The yellow school bus pulled off through the snow this morning. I herded two of my daughters clad in ski gloves and purple parkas down the path my husband cut through a foot of snow with his snow blower to the bus stop.

I woke them at 6:30, and sprinted through the mad rush of breakfast, lunch boxes, backpacks, and ponytails. Winter also dictates coats, gloves, boots and ski pants. It is really no different than all the other moms are doing to get their kids ready for school. But somehow the morning rush always surprises me, and I race until I hear the bus rumbling up the road before we make it out the door.

When the bus pulled away, and I stepped back inside my house, I was engulfed in quiet. My husband was working from home in his office, and daughter #3 was still blissfully sleeping. (perhaps since she was up until midnight--but that is another story)

All the rushing suddenly ceased. I sat still in my family room next to my cooling cup of coffee and felt an odd sense of awkwardness. How long had it been since I have truly been alone? By my best estimation, 17 days had passed since I have had a moment to myself. (If you don't count the time I drove through a snowstorm to pick up Chinese food two days ago)

Used to running around and doing things, I had a hard time just sitting. I forced myself not to move and pushed away thoughts of my "to do" list (posted prominently on the refrigerator.) Instead, I looked out the window at the tall pines frosted with yesterday's snow. Brilliant green and white were juxtaposed against a cerulean blue sky. A chickadee perched near the top, flapped his wings and sent down a sprinkle of white powder. Thank you God for making this for me to see. Thank you God for this moment. With my eyes open, I continued in prayer for my family and friends.

Before I could contemplate any more, the moment was over. Sleeping beauty arrived in yellow footed jammies and crawled into my lap. She reached up to touch my face and I held her with my eyes closed, feeling blessed and refreshed.

Be still and know that I am God Psalm 46:10a

Do Ants Have Ears?

"Let's Skype Babi!" my two year-old says enthusiastically while sitting in my lap and gesturing at my computer.

I perform a mental double-take and ask her what she said. Her baby-fine hair tickles my cheek, and she smells delightfully of baby shampoo. Bouncing up and down on my lap, she reiterates that she indeed wants to Skype my Aunt. I seriously doubt that my Aunt has Skype, or even knows what it is.

I laugh and set my little one down to play. Her request leaves me astounded. Her generation is steeped in technology. My three children have never known a world without virtual pets, video games, educational videos, cell phones and laptop computers.

One night at bedtime, my five year old came out to ask me a question she'd been pondering, "Mommy, do ants have ears?" Honestly, I had no idea.

"I don't know sweetie. We could look it up."

"Ok, let's Google it!"

Information has never been faster or more accessible. That leaves me wondering about my own childhood. My brothers and I used to have fun fishing with hot dogs at the end of a string tied to a palm frond, making forts out of blankets and chairs, and collecting tadpoles after a large rain. The world was somehow bigger and filled with any possibility that our imaginations could muster.

If we needed answers, we headed to the burgundy-bound 26 volume set 1970 edition of Encyclopedia Brittanica. If the answer wasn't in there, then it probably wasn't important (or we spelled it wrong.)

Their world is so different from mine as a child. I wonder if all of their technological advantages do their imaginations a disservice.

As I sit pondering that, my two year old comes back holding a super bouncy ball. "Let's play ball!" she says while waving the green plastic orb above her head.

Now that's more like it.

Thank you God for the world we live in. Help my children to use the advantages of technology to grow, learn, and to bring peace to those around them. Help me to be the mother they need to grow into the women you want them to be.

Train a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not turn from it. Proverbs 22:6

p.s. Ants have little sensors on their feet that act as ears. I Googled it. :)