My knees practically touch my chin as we sit in a rain drop of little chairs. That’s what we call it now, this circle made by their own 4 and 5 year-old hands. When one notices most of us funneled together on one end, she comments “We took the circle and made it better. We made a rain drop.”
We decide then to worship in the rain here every Sunday. And my cup overflows…
I can’t help but laugh when I think of how I prepared for this lesson. How I expected to teach them new discoveries. New words to use in everyday conversations.
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I recently began homeschooling my 7th grade daughter. This is nothing unique. There are many moms who homeschool. But what makes my situation different from that of many other homeschooling moms is that I work full-time, outside of the home, four days a week. Yet, I have chosen to homeschool.
After my daughter finished her elementary school tenure, I became restless in my heart for her. I began to ask the Lord if I could perhaps be a homeschool mom. Call me crazy, but I was willing to add one more thing to my plate in order to do what I felt was best for her.
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My grandmother used to call it “putting on” her face.
Makeup.
Concealer, foundation, blush, shadow, eye liner, mascara, and lip gloss.
I refuse to leave the house without makeup. I’ve even been known to go into surgery wearing a little bit of mascara. I know we’re supposed to go under the knife sans products, but I just feel so naked without lashes and lip gloss.
Do you feel exposed and vulnerable without concealer and color?
Standing in front of the mirror the other morning, I realized I have lots of flaws and imperfections that I try to cover up and hide .
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O Lord, you are my God;
I will exalt you and praise your name,
for in perfect faithfulness
you have done marvelous things,
things planned long ago. (Psalm 25:1)
I am a planner. You will rarely find me without my trusty little companion which I dote over, painstakingly planning the days and weeks ahead like a master chess player strategizing each move in a championship game.
It’s no surprise then when I see my day unravel, like a stray ball of yarn discovered and enjoyed by a playful kitten, I get a bit miffed. This is one of the reasons it brings me great comfort and peace to remember that my God is the one who is The Master Planner.
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A few years ago, when my kids and I were out driving and had time in the car, I decided it would be good to review some safety rules with them.
It had been a while since I’d done this and I wanted to talk to them about what to do in different situations.
When I’d done this before, I’d usually ask them a question like, “What would you do if a stranger asked you to go with him or her?” and after they’d answer, we’d talk about it.
This time, as I began talking to them about the importance of sticking together in crowded places like the movie theater or the mall, my daughter chimed in from the back seat…
“Yeah, because if we are just one, we can really break, but if we’re together, it’s not so easy.”
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Pictures never lie.
I don’t know who first said that, but I have plenty of pictures tucked away of early motherhood that fail to reveal the whole truth.
Looking back at photos snapped when my three girls were teeny-tiny, I see picture after picture of me smiling. Happiness etched on my face – like being a mom was just the easiest thing ever. They do not show the depression. They do not show the pressure I felt to get everything right. You cannot see the mommy guilt standing by my side in any of them. But it’s there. My constant companion.
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“En nombre de Padre, de Hijo, y de espiritu santo.”
The waters stirred as the dark haired gentleman followed the pastor into the baptismal pool. The pastor introduced himself and this gentleman to the congregation. Hundreds of eyes rested on these two as they readied to represent Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection. “This man comes to us tonight to be baptized.” Those were the last words I understood.
The pastor then spoke beautiful Spanish as fluid as the water in which he stood. The words were engaging but made no sense to me. I followed as closely as possible listening for chunks of words I understood comparing them to the words I knew and expected at a baptism.
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She spends fifteen minutes on her makeup, adding a bit of eyeshadow here, curling those eyelashes one more time. Her hair just isn’t laying right, as she checks the back for the fifth time with her handheld mirror. Maybe a turtleneck would work better with her hair down, or maybe she should just wear it up and out of the way today. She frets. She frowns. She feels paralyzed in this place of not-pretty-enough.
Across town, another woman is cleaning. Baseboards, windowsills, walls, doorknobs. She sees some spots on the window that she must have missed the day before. She sighs and reaches for the Windex and paper towels.
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