Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Cinderella Mom

If you think Jesus would have come into your home that day and not issued a strong rebuke to the head of household, you are mistaken. These words of condemnation have been haunting me for days now. They aren’t all that different than the soundtrack I play in my head on an almost-daily basis. It’s…

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This is 40

I am nesting. On Saturday I emptied the refrigerator. Last summer’s homemade pickles in their jars. The bread ends that seem to multiply on every shelf. The eggs. The milk. The fruit and veggies. All of it sat on the floor or the counter as I carefully removed the shelves and wiped them down with…

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Beauty on the Backroads {or Why I Changed the Name of my Blog}

I’ve heard that life is like a highway. And it definitely seems like that sometimes. The pace of life swirls around me at dizzying speeds. We’re all so busy. In such a hurry. Always somewhere to be, something else to do. I’m a get-to-the-point, get-there-quick kind of girl. I don’t like to waste time on…

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Father, may I?

A friend recently told me that 2 1/2 is a special age. We’re finding that out with Isabelle. Her imagination is expanding. We frequently have a baby and an Elmo join us at the dinner table, and she brings them to her table to play Play-Doh. And she sings made-up songs. Or a combination of made-up songs.

She’s also becoming increasingly inquisitive. Besides asking, “Mommy, what’s that?” she also frequently asks permission to do all sorts of things. “Mommy, can I?” is an oft-heard phrase around here. Sometimes, it’s appropriate, like, “Mommy, can I watch ‘Barney’?” Other times, it’s not. “Mommy, can I finish my dinner?” is not a question that needs to be asked. Am I going to say “No” to that? Some of her questions are met with a “yes,” others will always be answered “No,” like “Mommy, can I ride in the back seat?” when we’re in the van negotiating our little lawyer into her car seat before we start the car.

Her questions make me think of how I talk to God. Sometimes I think I ask Him questions I already know the answer to. Like, do I really need His permission to help someone in need, or start a conversation, or smile at a stranger? Or any other number of things that would always get a “Yes” from Him. Conversely, I know that some things are always going to generate a “No.”  Can I hold a grudge? Can I be bitter? Is it OK for me to envy that person a little? Can I temporarily disown my husband while he’s engrossed in watching World Cup soccer matches and shouting at the TV or computer?

We’re studying prayer in our Sunday School class right now, and this week we learned that obedience to God opens the lines of communication with Him while sin and disobedience close those lines. In some ways, it’s like when my daughter whines for something she wants. I sometimes tell her I can’t hear her when she talks like that. Or if she forgets “the magic word” when she demands we fulfill a request, we wait until we hear it before letting her have what she’s asked for.

God is the ultimate parent and being a parent has deepened my relationship with Him because I see so much more from His point of view what it must be like to watch His children grow in their faith. How much patience, love, instruction, discipline and work is involved, and how He cares for us.

I didn’t intend for this to be a Father’s Day post, but it’s sort of turning into that. I wonder if God celebrates Father’s Day or if for Him, every day is Father’s Day.

God ruined my life

It’s been no secret that lately I’ve been struggling with being a mom to my kids … feeling overwhelmed, underqualified, impatient, tired and exasperated. Then I had a wake-up call and my attitude has changed. The past week has been one of the best weeks with my kids (minus the tantrums my 2-year-old threw over the weekend at bedtime). This change of heart and mind was confirmed by the sermon I heard on Sunday.

I will admit that I cannot remember much about what our pastor said, but one phrase stuck out. I can’t remember the context, either. (Sorry, Pastor Dave. Saturday night was a rough one with Izzy.) But I recall hearing something about God invading our lives, and something in my mind clicked with that concept.

I remember exactly how God took over my life, when I let Him, but He began invading it long before then. He was wooing me from a young age, through my uncle, my grandparents and friends. I just didn’t get it until I was 19. Actually, I’m not sure I totally “get it” now, but I know one thing: I’m not the same as I was then.

God ruined my life. At least, the life I was living. I was depressed, insecure, desperate for love, on the verge of jumping into a sexually loose lifestyle and ignorant of who I was or  what I wanted out of life.

God changed all of that. He gave me joy, security, unfailing love, purity, acceptance, purpose and hope. He ruined the path I was on, and I am forever grateful.

In a similar way, my children have ruined my life. They, too, invaded my life and took over. In a whole new way, my life is not my own. They’ve ruined me for selfishness, laziness, monotony, greed, and independence. Without them in my life, I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, anytime I wanted. I could spend all the money I had on myself and be my own person. Those things are attractive, sometimes, and please don’t think I’m in any way condemning or judging you if you don’t have children. I just know myself and how I would be as a person if God hadn’t given me children.

Sometimes I’m frustrated that my schedule revolves around theirs, that I have to share whatever I’m eating or drinking with my daughter if I’m consuming it while she’s awake, that I can’t even go to the bathroom without her opening the door or calling out, “Mommy, where are you?” And, at times, I’m a little jealous that I have to buy the kids new clothes every few months while my tired wardrobe decays further in my closet. (Except for the new pieces I got for my birthday; thanks Mom and Grandma!)

I may not have known what I was in for when my husband and I decided to have children (at least the first one!) but I knew sacrifice would be involved. The same is true of my faith. In both cases, I can’t stay the same person I was or even do a lot of the things I used to do. Most of the time, that’s a good thing.

I like this song “Miracle” by Audio Adrenaline. The chorus says:

“You took my dreams
And stole my schemes
And turned my life upside down
You took my heart
Stole every part
And made it a miracle”

I wouldn’t trade this miraculous life for what it was before, but when I entertain the thought of going back, I have to remember that this was no hostile takeover of my life. With God and with my kids, I surrendered the ground I was holding and welcomed the invasion.