Manna For Moms

Devotions for Moms Like You!

Megan Breedlove

Empty Arms

Megan Breedlove 2 Comments

Maybe the news came in a phone call. The telephone rang, and the sound of it was the sound of your life shattering.

Maybe a doctor told you as you sat across the desk from him, with words that couldn’t sink in because you’d gone numb.

Maybe you were there as your child took her last breath.

Whatever the circumstances, your life will never be the same.

There’s nothing more agonizing than losing a child. Nothing cuts deeper or produces longer-lasting pain. Nothing shatters your soul into such tiny fragments that you’re certain you can never be put back together quite the same. You wonder if you can be put back together at all.

You grieve on the anniversary of your child’s death, on what would have been your due date, on your child’s birthday, and at Christmas. You remember the times spent together as a family, a family that will never be complete again.

The times in your life that should bring joy now bring pain.

Mother’s Day is especially painful because everything about it reminds you that your child is gone. The pastor delivers a sermon focusing on mothers. You go to the store for a gallon of milk and pass displays of floral arrangements and cards. You open the newspaper, and out falls a jewelry store circular advertising “gifts to make her day special.”

Even if you have other children who present you with stick figure pictures of yourself and clay handprints, you find yourself trying to remember how your other child’s hand felt in yours.

Precious friend, as you grieve, there is something God wants you to know: your grief touches His heart. He grieves with you.

In the Gospel of John, chapter 11, Jesus arrived in Bethany to hear that His dear friend Lazarus had died. First one of Lazarus’ sisters, then the other, came running to Jesus to blame Him for what happened. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died!”

Our hearts are tormented with the same question. Lord, You could have stopped it. Why didn’t You?

Jesus didn’t directly address the sisters’ cry of anguish. But watch and listen to the answer He did give, for it is the same answer He gives you.

When Jesus saw everyone weeping, He was deeply moved. The Greek words indicate that He was “terribly upset”. You see, He cared about the sisters, their grief, and Lazarus’ death.

“Where have you put him?” Jesus asked, and they answered, “Lord, come and see.”

Upon hearing this, Jesus began to wail loudly. He must have, for in the Jewish culture of Jesus’ day, you grieved openly to show how much you loved the person who died. Even in a culture that was used to weeping and wailing, the other mourners thought Jesus’ grief remarkable in its intensity and talked about how much Jesus must have loved Lazarus.

What does that mean for us, two thousand years later?

It means we can know that when Jesus sees our grief, He is deeply moved. When your child died, He wailed with you.

Never think that because God doesn’t prevent death from happening, He doesn’t care. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, He cared so much about what death does to us that He sent His Son Jesus to gain the victory over it, not just for Himself, but for the whole world.

This victory has incredible implications for us. One day, no mother will ever again grieve the loss of her precious child. No mother will ever again feel the soul-deep, physical ache of empty arms that long to be filled with her baby. Death will finally be destroyed, and there will be no more mourning or crying or pain. God Himself will wipe every tear from your eyes, and your grief will be over.

Oh, friend, can you imagine that day? My soul longs for it, and I know yours does, too.

Until then, when it seems as if the tears will never end, remember that Jesus cries with you. When you don’t know how you can rise to meet one more day, remember that He grieves with you. And remember that though He may require you to walk through agony on this earth, He has promised that one day, your grief will cease as you triumph with Him over that ultimate enemy.

One day, you will rejoice again.

1 Corinthians 15:26—The last enemy to be destroyed is death.

1 Corinthians 15:55—Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?

Revelation 21:4—He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

Empty Arms

~~ Special thanks to author Renae Brumbaugh for her gracious assistance with editing this devotional ~~

Climbing

Megan Breedlove No Comments

My kids love any toy they can jump on—bounce houses, trampolines, or that all-time favorite, Mommy and Daddy’s bed. Now and then, they get invited to parties at jumping places. These are places where there are several large inflatables the kids can climb on, jump on, and have a great time on.

I remember one of these parties in particular. It was at a place called Pump It Up. I had brought Ellie, Kenny, and Lindsey. Kenny was almost four at the time. He had improved greatly in some of the things he was able to do physically, and he was beginning to be comfortable attempting more things.

One of the toys at this party was a large slide. You would climb up one side by holding onto and stepping on small inflatable rectangles, and then you could slide down the other side. Kenny decided that he wanted to go up that slide. I mean, he really wanted to go up the slide.

I was so proud of him for attempting it, because it showed how far he’d come not only physically, but in courage. I wasn’t sure if he could do it, though.

Kenny climbed up onto the platform, crawled through a short tunnel, then approached the climbing part of the slide. He awkwardly tried to figure out how to go on up. I could tell that he understood what he was supposed to do, but that he wasn’t secure about his body’s ability to perform the skill quite yet.

I wound up following him upwards, climbing just far enough behind him that he could make the attempt on his own but also that if he fell, I could catch him. It wasn’t coming easily to him, but Kenny kept trying, and I admired his perseverance.

Then, it happened.

As he was trying to move himself upward, Kenny partially lost his grip, and he wound up still holding onto a couple rectangles, but unevenly, one of his hands on a rectangle further down than the other, one foot dangling.

Oh, no, I thought. Would he get upset? Would he give up?

Both of these were good possibilities, as Kenny got upset easily when he felt overwhelmed by a physical challenge. But I had only a brief instant to wonder what he was going to do before he acted. He readjusted his grip and kept going.

Kenny reached the top and slid down the other slide. Having experienced success, he climbed up and slid down again several more times. Each time, he climbed bravely. Sometimes, he started to fall, as we both knew he would, but each time, he kept going. Later, he was able to make the climb by himself.

Kenny’s attitude that day was a beautiful picture of what our attitudes should be toward surmounting the obstacles in our lives. He was willing to attempt anything, even to the extent of falling, if he knew I was behind him. How much more, then, should we be willing to face anything God causes or allows into our path with the same courage, knowing that even if we fall, our heavenly Father is right there behind us?

You see, we are all like Kenny in some way. We each have our own difficulties. Maybe yours, like his, are physical. Maybe they’re circumstantial. Maybe they’re similar to those of friends you know; maybe they’re like no one else’s. Whatever they are, you have yours, and I have mine.

The question is, what do we do about them? Do we allow them to keep us at the bottom of the slide, afraid to try because we’re sure—or at least pretty certain—we’ll fail? Or do we start climbing up the slide, knowing that even if we fall, God’s arms will be right there to catch us?

It takes courage to attempt something that is difficult for us. Nobody likes to fail, and sometimes, failure is a possibility. But courage comes a lot easier if you trust, not in your own ability to succeed, but in God’s ability either to help you succeed or to support you adequately if He allows failure.

If Kenny hadn’t tried the slide, he wouldn’t have experienced difficulty and near-failure several times. Nor would he have experienced the thrill of success.

If we don’t attempt difficult things in our lives, we won’t experience failing in the attempt. But we also won’t experience being used mightily of God in those things. And those people we might have been used mightily to touch won’t experience the benefits of our having made ourselves available to God.

I don’t know what the obstacle is that you have to climb. I don’t know whether it looks like the gentle slope in my front yard or like Mount Everest. I don’t know whether you would reach the top if you started to climb. But I do know that God can use you no matter how far up the side of the mountain you get.

Precious mommy, is there a mountain in your life that God wants you to start climbing? Are you uncertain you can do it?

Start climbing anyway. Trust God either to enable you to succeed, or to catch you when you fall. And know that as long as you give it your best and fullest effort, He is pleased with the attempt.

Psalm 55:22—Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall.

Isaiah 46:4—Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.

Leave it Alone

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When supper was almost ready, I called the kids to the table. As my husband and I were putting the finishing touches on the meal in the kitchen, I heard Ellie playing with something I had already set out. I don’t remember what it was anymore; I just remember hearing the noise and realizing she shouldn’t be playing with it.

“Ellie, don’t play with that,” I said.

She stopped, and I went back to my supper preparations.

Moments later, I heard the same sound. This time, I knew it wasn’t Ellie playing, because I heard her saying, “Kenny, Mommy said not to play with that.”

That might have been helpful, were it not for her tone of voice, which was rather snooty.

“Kenny, leave it alone!” Ellie commanded in the same superior tone.

I turned to my husband, who was in the kitchen with me, and said, “She doesn’t care if Kenny’s obeying me. She just doesn’t want him to be able to touch it because she wasn’t allowed to mess with it.”

We often feel the same way, don’t we?

Our demand for someone to change his or her actions is motivated not by a desire to see that person experience the spiritual benefits of living in conformity to God’s holy will, but by the idea that “if I can’t do that, I don’t want that person to be able to do it, either.” We are more grieved at the possibility that someone else might be able to enjoy something we are not permitted than at the certainty that the person is not right in his or her relationship with God.

I’ll use myself for an example.

One temptation I deal with on a fairly consistent basis is the temptation to speed when I drive. I know that I shouldn’t because God has commanded me to obey the laws of the government, but sometimes, I really wish that I didn’t have to obey those laws. Despite my desire to make my own determination as to how fast I will go, I watch my speed carefully because I know it is the right thing to do.

When someone speeds past me on the highway doing about ninety-five miles per hour, however, the true desires of my heart are revealed. How? In my annoyance at the speeder.

At those times, I’m not thinking, “That person is breaking God’s law, and I am concerned at the fact that he is damaging his relationship with God by sinning.” No, I’m thinking, “That person is breaking God’s law, and if I have to obey it, he should, too.”

Sounds kind of like the older brother in the story of the prodigal son, doesn’t it?

When the prodigal son returned, the older brother was angry at his father for throwing a party. His reaction, if I may paraphrase it, was, “I’ve spent all these years being a dutiful, obedient son; my brother spent years openly doing what he knew he shouldn’t be doing; and he is the one who gets a party?”

The older brother wasn’t concerned about whether or not the younger brother was obeying God’s law and their father’s wishes. He was infuriated at the thought that the younger brother was “getting away with” something.

Friend, what are your motives for wanting someone to obey?

Is your desire to see them walk in closer relationship to God? Or is it because you believe that if you have to toe the line, they should, too?

The first motivation is the one God wants us to have. It arises out of love for others.

The second motivation is the one Satan tempts us to have. It arises out of love for self.

If I truly love my brother, I will want him to obey for his own benefit.

It I love only myself, I will want my brother to obey for my benefit—so that I don’t have to be the only one enduring the discipline of obedience, or the only one “missing out”.

The next time you find yourself demanding that your brother—or sister—change his or her conduct, stop and ask yourself what your motives are. Better yet, ask God to reveal your motives to you. Are you truly concerned about your brother? Have you even thought about your sister’s welfare? Or do you merely want to make sure that someone else toes the line like you do?

Then, ask yourself what your motives are for obeying God. Do you obey out of a love relationship with Him, or do you obey out of a sterile sense of duty?

May God grant you and me the spiritual insight to know the answer, and the divine grace of an ever-deepening relationship with Him.

Psalm 119:167—I obey your statutes, for I love them greatly.

Deuteronomy 11:1—Love the LORD your God and keep his requirements, his decrees, his laws and his commands always. [emphasis mine]

Imperfect Angels

Megan Breedlove No Comments

Because he goes to work in the afternoon, my husband usually doesn’t get home from work until after the kids and I are in bed. So, as a way of saying goodnight to him, I call him when I’m ready to go to bed.

The other night, I called his office, and the phone was answered by one of his coworkers (I’ll call him Bill). Both he and my husband—and everyone on their unit—deal with difficult children, children who either do have psychiatric problems or are perceived by their parents or other adults in their lives to have them. Bill said that it had been a particularly stressful day at work, with several difficult children, and that in fact, my husband was seeing one of them now.

I replied that my husband has told me that after a hard day at work, he is always glad to come home to our kids, because though our kids aren’t perfect, their misbehavior falls within normal limits for their age.

Thinking of his own daughter, Bill said, “Yeah, I have a little angel, compared to some of these kids.”

Once again, my perspective got a needed adjustment.

After a stressful day with my kids, it’s easy for me to focus on their misbehavior. I’m much more likely to think about all the things they did wrong that day than all the things they did right. My tendency is to adopt a nobly beleaguered attitude and to become irritable.

Can you identify with me? When you have one of “those” days, do you find yourself getting annoyed and wishing somebody really appreciated all you had to put up with?

Maybe we both need a perspective adjustment.

You see, a large part of the attitudes you and I have toward our children is simply a matter of the perspective we choose to take.

We can choose to take the “poor me, look what I have to put up with” perspective, and some days, we do just that. Granted, some days are terrible. There are certainly days where it seems that nothing goes right, where there’s conflict at every turn, and when the most common word from your mouth is “stop”. But even on the terrible days, our perspective is a matter of choice. Choosing the “poor me” perspective might get us some sympathy, but it sure won’t make the day better.

On the other hand, we could choose to take a radically different perspective. It’s the “it was a crummy day, but parenting these children is still a privilege” perspective. You see, even when your children are at their worst, it’s still a privilege to be their mom. Remembering that they are God’s gift to you will give you a far different perspective on their misbehavior than will feeling put-upon for having to “put up with” their behavior.

Consider also that there are children who are far more severe problems than yours. What Bill said is true for most of us. The behavior of our kids is nowhere near as severe as the behavior some parents have to deal with from their children.

I’m not saying that your children’s behavior should never annoy you just because some children are more difficult. I am saying that maybe their behavior isn’t as bad as you—as I—think it is.

This is awful, we find ourselves thinking. But is it?

You see, most of our children’s behavior isn’t any worse than our own.

My children sometimes complain and argue. So do I.

They sometimes fail to do what they are supposed to do. So do I.

More frequently than I would like, they display selfish, “me-first” attitudes. So do I.

I’m glad that God doesn’t find dealing with my misbehavior to be as much of a burden and an annoyance as I sometimes find managing my children’s behavior to be.

When I sin, God doesn’t roll His eyes and sigh, “Here we go again.” He doesn’t suddenly yell at me because He’s had it up to here with my attitude, young lady. And what a relief that He doesn’t get disgusted with me because if He’s “told me once, He’s told me a thousand times.”

No, God doesn’t dwell on our sins to the extent that He fails to see the good things we do. His attitude toward us is always positive, though he hates our sin. He parents us with infinite patience despite our repeated failures and infinite love despite the crummy attitudes we sometimes have toward Him.

You and I don’t have that kind of infinite patience. But we do have Him, and He has promised to help us when we need it.

So the next time you and the kids are having a bad day, stop for a moment. Just stop. Get off by yourself if you need to, even if it means locking yourself in the bathroom and ignoring the voices right outside the door. Remind yourself that it is a joy to have these children, even if it’s not a joy to have their behavior. If you really can’t feel joyful about it at the moment, ask God to help you have His joy in them. Ask Him to help you delight in them despite their behavior the same way He delights in you despite yours.

And thank Him that no matter what you do, He always loves you with his everlasting love and blesses you with His infinite patience.

Jeremiah 31:3– The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying: “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness.

It’s Pretty

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My daughter Lindsey has a compassionate heart. When she sees someone hurting or in need, she is quick to respond by doing something to try to make them feel better. Sometimes, she’ll bring them a toy she knows they like; other times, she’ll pat them, look very concerned, and say, “Poor Mommy,” or whoever the person is.

A couple weeks ago, my four kids and I were getting ready to go somewhere, and Kenny couldn’t find his jacket. “Where’s my Cars jacket?” he asked, obviously beginning to get upset.

“It’s at the Y,” Lindsey answered, remembering that we had left it there last time we visited.

“Now I’ll never have a jacket,” Kenny wailed.

I gave Kenny a hug and tried to help him calm down. Then, I realized Lindsey was entering the room holding one of her jackets.

“Here, Kenny,” she said, holding it out to him.

Kenny was not gracious in his response. “No!” he insisted, not wanting any jacket but his own.

“Aww, Kenny, she’s offering you her jacket,” I prompted, hoping for a kinder response.

“No!”

“Here, Kenny,” Lindsey repeated, holding out her size 3T jacket. (Kenny takes a 5T, or, at the very least, a 4T.)

“No!”

“It’s pretty!” Lindsey pleaded, holding the jacket out to him and sounding as if she were close to tears.

My heart broke for her at Kenny’s ingratitude, and I did my best to make it up to her. “Thank you so much for offering him your jacket,” I said kindly and gently. “That was really sweet. I guess Kenny is just going to go without a jacket right now. But thank you, darling.”

That seemed to work, enough for us to get going and for Lindsey to forget about the incident, at least as far as I could tell. But the rest of that day, and many times since, I have remembered the look on her face as she pleaded with him to accept her offering, and the anguish I felt on her behalf when her offering was refused.

You see, Lindsey wasn’t just offering Kenny her jacket.

She was offering him her heart.

Lindsey was showing her love and concern in the best way she knew how, only to have it rejected. Oh, Kenny, I thought, please see the magnitude of what your sister is offering you. Please take it.

But he didn’t. And it hurt her.

In a way, it’s the same with us and God. You and I have nothing to offer God that He really needs. He doesn’t need our jacket. He is completely sufficient in and of Himself. Everything we have came from Him, and is His, anyway.

But in a way, it’s very different. You see, God never rejects our offerings when they come from a heart of love.

Aren’t you deeply, profoundly desperately glad that when you bring something to Him, He doesn’t reject it because it’s not what He wants or needs? Even more, aren’t you glad that He sees the thoughts and intentions of our heart, and accepts those that come from love?

Our offerings may consist of nuking a jar of strained peas in the microwave, or reading the same bedtime story for the thousandth time, or ferrying yet another child to yet another activity. But if those actions are presented to God in love, He will accept them as a beautiful offering.

Thank your Father that He accepts you and your simple, childlike offerings. Thank Him that when you come to Him, He is ready to receive you.

More wonderful than that, He welcomes you. His heart of love responds to your heart of love, and He gathers you up in His arms.

“Thank you,” He whispers. “Thank you for the jacket.”

Psalm 51:17—The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

It’s All About Me

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Children are born focused entirely on themselves and their needs, and they remain this way for quite awhile.

If you don’t believe me, consider this: when was the last time a two-month-old thought to herself, “You know, I bet Mom could really use some sleep. I’ve gotten her up three times a night for the past two months, so I’ll bet she’s really tired by now. Tonight, I’m not going to bother her when I wake up. I’ll just go back to sleep.” (Sure, some two-month-olds sleep through the night, but it’s not because they feel sorry for Mom.)

Or try taking a fork away from an older infant who has it clutched tightly in his fist. Chances are, he’s not going to think to himself, Hey, I could have poked my eye out with that. Good thing Mom took it away. Thanks, Mom! No, he’ll cry.

You see? You don’t have to teach your children to be selfish. It comes naturally.

Generally, selfishness in an infant isn’t a problem. It’s normal and natural. I’m quite certain that even Jesus cried as an infant when He was hungry and needed to be fed.

The problem comes when we don’t grow out of our selfishness.

Little babies are born believing that life is all about them, and for quite awhile, they see very little evidence to make them change their view. After all, someone else meets all their needs. All they have to do is express a need, and someone makes sure to meet it. Seems like a good indication that you’re the center of the universe, right?

The only problem is…it’s not true. You’re not the center of the universe.

If a selfish infant persists too long in thinking the world exists to meet her needs, she becomes a selfish child…then a selfish teenager…and, finally, a selfish adult.

We spend a lot of time and effort in our parenting to teach our children how to think of others. We teach them to share. We teach them to honor others. We even teach them that JOY stands for Jesus, Others, You. We teach love and compassion and outreach.

What is hardly objectionable in an infant—the belief that “it’s all about me”—becomes quite objectionable in an adult.

And as adults, who are supposed to know much better by now, we’re often guilty of being selfish ourselves.

Sometimes, we never lose that “me first” focus, or even a “me only” focus. Oh, we learn to cover it up better. We learn to ask polite questions of others instead of to talk exclusively about ourselves. We get accustomed to doing lots of little things designed to hide the fact that we’d rather the other person focus on us, instead of us focusing on them.

But are our hearts really in it? Do we do these things because we truly value others, or because we’ve learned how to be socially acceptable?

I’m afraid that, all too often, it’s the latter.

It’s bad enough when we treat others, even subconsciously, as if they are the means to make us feel good, or the means to fill us up, rather than unique, precious creations in God’s sight.

It’s worse when we act as if God is there merely to serve us, rather than the other way around.

We’ve all been guilty of it. We’ve all, on occasion, sought God for what He could do for us instead of for Himself. We’ve been guilty of going blithely on our merry way when things are fine, but then, when we need something, running to God…until He fixes things, at which point He fades to the back of our thoughts again.

Dear Mommy friend, do the same traits you are trying valiantly to train out of your children show themselves in your attitude toward others? Toward God?

We are all selfish at times. It’s part of being human. But that doesn’t make it excusable or acceptable.

Of all people Who ever walked this earth, Jesus would have had the right to focus on Himself and demand that others focus all their attention on Him, too. But He didn’t. Everything He did on this earth was designed to fulfill His mission and thereby bring glory to His Father. God the Father was the center of Jesus’ universe, not He Himself.

Friend, is God the center of your universe? Or are you?

Ask God to reveal the answer to you. You may be more selfish than you think.

I pray that you’re not. I pray that you are far less selfish than I am at times. But I suspect that even as mommies, who give and give and give, all day long, we all fail in this area at times. We all think of ourselves first, when we should be thinking of others, or of Another.

Lay your heart before God. Ask Him to show you whether there is any selfishness in it, and if so, where it lies. Tell Him you want Him to be the center of your world and of all your attention.

That’s what He wants, too.

Revelation 4:11—You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being.

John 15:5—I am the vine; you are the branches…apart from me, you can do nothing.

Mommy Math

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I was never that great in math at school. Oh, I did fine in the elementary grades, when math pretty much consisted of the four basic functions as well as some story problems. I even did all right in some of the easier aspects of algebra. But when it came to the more advanced aspects of algebra, or anything beyond that—anything where you had to understand abstract mathematical theory and couldn’t see the whole problem right there on the paper—I struggled.

Languages were my strong suit. They came easily to me. Math? It was much more difficult.

There is one kind of math, however, in which I excel. I bet that, no matter what your math grades in school were, you excel in this kind of math too.

It’s called Mommy Math.

Traditional math—the kind we learned in school—is pretty restrictive. It’s much less creative. 2 + 2 always equals four. Story problems involve trains leaving different points in different directions at different speeds. There is only one right answer. If you and I have two different answers, at least one of us is wrong.

Mommy Math is different. Answers are flexible. Story problems are much more interesting. There can sometimes be two (or more) right answers. And it’s definitely much more practical.

Consider, for example, this Mommy Math story problem:

Mommy has thirty minutes left before company arrives for dinner. If Mommy has 3 young children and a 1600-sq.-foot house, how long will it take the children to mess up the entire house while Mommy is busy putting the finishing touches on the ham? Answer: two minutes. And it will happen right before the doorbell rings.

Or this one:

If you have three Hello Kitty utensils in the silverware basket in the dishwasher, handles pointing upward; two of them are forks and one is a spoon; and you have to draw out one of the forks if you have any hope of getting your daughter to eat what you’re about to put on her plate, what are the odds that the first Hello Kitty utensil you choose will be a fork? Answer: 0%. (Traditional math would say “2 out of 3”, but this would be wrong, because as any mommy knows, you would draw the unwanted spoon every single time.)

Or this oh-so-relevant one:

If you have four children and one husband, and you are trying to put a meal on the table that all six of you will eat, and Child #1 won’t eat anything with meat, Child #2 won’t eat anything that looks “weird”, Child #3 will choose one of the older two to copy in deciding what she won’t eat, and Child #4 won’t eat anything she liked yesterday; and if all you have in the kitchen is something that would take you an hour to prepare, which would ensure that none of the kids would eat it, how long will it take you to give up on the idea of eating a nutritious meal and fix mac-n-cheese for the third time this week? Answer: three seconds.

You see? I told you that you were good at this kind of math.

It takes some effort and studying to succeed at traditional math. It takes a whole lot more effort—and studying, and praying—to succeed at Mommy Math. That’s because Mommy Math is a lot harder. There’s not always one right answer, and even your best efforts to find an answer won’t always result in a good one. Sometimes, you’ll make mistakes, and you still won’t have any idea what to do to make it right.

Aren’t you glad God is never at a loss as to how to raise His children? Aren’t you grateful He’s never confused, like we are sometimes? Isn’t it wonderful that despite the vast differences in His children, He always knows exactly what to do for each one at any given moment?

Despite our best efforts, we flounder sometimes. We make mistakes. We sin. We get tired. We come up short.

But praise God, He never does any of those things.

Precious mommy, I don’t write this to make you—or myself—feel guilty. If you’re doing the best you can, and doing it with plenty of prayer and in God’s strength, He is pleased, and your efforts are enough.

I just want us all to remember what a wonderful heavenly Parent we have.

We often think of God as an authority figure, and He certainly is that. We even talk about His being our Father, but we don’t often stop to consider what that means.

Friend, it means that we have a Father who always loves us perfectly and individually. He always knows what’s best for us. He is always ready to take exactly the right action on anything concerning us. He knows when we need discipline, and when we need comfort. He knows when to encourage us onward, and when to let us rest. He is always available to us, no matter where we are physically, emotionally, or spiritually, and He never fails us.

Have you thanked Him lately for being such a wonderful Father?

Have you expressed your gratitude to Him for His parenting of you?

Mommy, I know that you do countless wonderful things for your children. I know you love them with all your heart. But even the most caring, loving earthly parent cannot match God’s perfect care and love.

As God’s children, we benefit from His perfect parenting. Let your heart respond in gratitude and love to God for this incredible blessing, and make sure you tell Him how you feel.

Psalm 117:2—For great is his love toward us, and the faithfulness of the LORD endures forever. Praise the Lord.

I Got a Blue!

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That day, I stood at the stove cooking. (This in itself is memorable enough, but that’s not the point of this story.) My kids were in the living/dining area, playing. For a moment, I had some time to myself.

Then, I heard my son calling out excitedly and his footsteps running toward me.

“I got a blue! I got a blue! I got a blue!”

Kenny arrived in the kitchen, holding a Resurrection egg. (These are eggs that you use at Easter to help kids learn the Easter story. It was July, but I hadn’t put ours away yet since the kids enjoyed playing with them so much.) He held the egg up for me to see.

I don’t remember now whether I was just lost in my own thoughts, or whether I was tending to something on the stove. I do remember that I didn’t start to turn to him until after he was already standing there.

By the time I did start to give him my attention, he was running off.

I hadn’t been deliberately ignoring him, but I felt bad anyway. Even when I’m busy, I try to pay attention to my children whenever they have something special to show me. I want them to feel special and to know that I care about what interests them. This time, I had almost missed what Kenny was trying to show me. Another couple of seconds, and I would have missed it.

Two things come to mind as I think about this incident. The first is a bittersweet thought: our children won’t be this little forever. Someday, they won’t care anymore about showing us a blue egg…or a special rock…or a dirty feather. Those things will no longer interest them. Hopefully, by that time, we will have built relationships with them so that they still show us things—but those things will be different.

Today, it’s marbles and bugs and flowers.

Tomorrow, it’ll be makeup and driver’s licenses and SAT scores.

Oh, friend, don’t miss the precious treasures of today. If you do, you’ll miss out on more than blue eggs—you’ll miss out on joy.

And if you’re not interested today in seeing what they have to show you, they might not be as interested in showing you tomorrow.

The second thing that comes to mind with this memory is gratitude—gratitude to God the Father for never, ever being too busy or inattentive to pay attention to what I want to show Him. Sometimes, I’m “too busy” to tell Him things, but He’s never too busy to listen.

God never says, “Not right now. I’m busy.”

He doesn’t mumble, “Mm-hmm,” while not really listening.

And He doesn’t sigh and say, “Daddy needs to rest right now.”

Aren’t you grateful that our Father doesn’t suffer from the same human weaknesses we suffer from?

He’s never too tired to listen to one more prayer.

He’s never too preoccupied with His own needs to help us with ours.

He’s never disinterested in listening because he’s had a bad day.

Rather, He eagerly awaits hearing from us. He does everything possible to get us to share ourselves with Him. He even searches for us when we’re distant.

Friend, think of it, and praise God! The glorious, almighty God of the entire universe eagerly anticipates hearing from you. He invites you to come, He waits for you to come, and He rejoices when you do.

To Him, what you bring is never “only” a blue plastic egg—it’s a precious piece of yourself, and He loves it when you share yourself with Him.

We as earthly parents rejoice when our children share themselves with us, and God as our heavenly Parent does no less. In fact, He does more. As much as we want relationships with our children, God wants a relationship with us even more.

How incredible. How vastly incredible.

I don’t know how long it’s been since you spent time with Him, but spend some time with Him today. It may not be an hour of uninterrupted prayer and study, but God doesn’t necessarily require that. After all, He knows you’re a mom. He knows that the minute you try to sit down for some uninterrupted time with Him, your kids will find you. Maybe all you have today is a few seconds here and a minute there. Don’t waste them. Spend time with the Person Who loves you most, the One Who is most interested in you. Tell Him anything. Maybe you don’t have a blue Resurrection egg to bring, but you can bring Him what you have. Bring it to Him today. He’s waiting and eager to hear from you.

Ephesians 6:18—Pray…on all occasions with all kinds of prayers.

Making Comparisons

Megan Breedlove No Comments

I’m a proud mommy. I think—no, I know—that my children are wonderful. They are marvelous, unique creations of God. Not only that, but they are also delightful to be around. They are special people—quirky, compassionate, curious, and funny. In short, they’re precious to me.

I’m sure that your children are equally precious to you, and that you love them as much as I do mine.

That’s how it should be. A mother should delight in her children and love them with all her heart.

But unfortunately, sometimes there can be a spirit of competition among mommies, where “my child is wonderful” turns into “my child is better than yours”.

You’ve heard the discussions:

Mommy #1: Sophia’s walking now.

Mommy #2: Oh, really? Stacey’s been walking for two months now.

Or:

Mommy #1: Brad is really enjoying soccer at the YMCA this season.

Mommy #2: We’ve had Tim in soccer since he was 2. He also plays basketball and football, and his coach says he might play for a college one day.

There’s nothing wrong with sharing our children’s accomplishments, including the things they are good at. The wrong comes in when we imply that our child is better because his skills are better.

Often, the comparisons we make between our children are out loud. Sometimes, they’re not (“My child would never behave that way at the store,” we think to ourselves). Whether spoken or silent, the comparisons are hurtful, because it trains our minds to value someone based on qualities or accomplishments, not on her identity as a valuable creation of God.

We make comparisons about ourselves as mothers, too.

We compare ourselves to some arbitrary, unrealistic standard and then get down on ourselves for not being able to live up to it. For instance? I’m not as pretty as other mothers, we think. Or, I should be able to manage three small children, keep a perfect house, be an untiring lover, and serve gourmet meals. Or, If she can do it, why can’t I?

Equally sinful is believing that we have attained perfection in a certain area and becoming prideful.

Oh, friend, do you see what’s happening here? When we make comparisons, whether about ourselves or about our children, we are not only tearing the other mother or child down, we are also eating away at our own soul. You see, we must never, ever, evaluate someone’s worth based on characteristics or accomplishments. Your worth is not because you are the most organized mom on the block, or because your kids are better behaved than someone else’s, or because you always look fashionable.

Let me say it again, sweet mommy friend—these things have nothing to do with your worth.

Absolutely nothing.

You are of inestimable value and worth because you are a creation of God. You are wonderfully made. God’s work in making you was and is marvelous. You are made in the image of God. You can take part in reflecting God’s glory. You are loved by God Himself.

That’s why you are of great price—not because you wear a certain hairstyle, or have a master’s degree, or your house looks like Martha Stewart lives there, or every other mommy on the block wants to be like you.

Your worth is always and only because God says you are valuable.

Think about it—the very God who made the universe says that you are important. Out of all the kinds of people He could have made, He chose to make you, because He wanted someone like you.

There’s no way that the right shoes or the right house or the right occupation can improve on that.

So take it to heart, mommy friend. Know that you are valuable and you are loved. Give yourself a break from comparing yourself to other mommies. You see, the comparisons really don’t matter. So what if you’re “more” than someone else? So what if you’re “less”?

God loves you, and He says that you are of great worth to Him. Let that be enough for you—because it’s everything.

Psalm 139:14—I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.

Walking Away

Megan Breedlove No Comments

Two years ago, my family and I went to Branson, Missouri, to visit my mom and stepfather. At the time, Ellie was four, Kenny was two and a half, Lindsey was one, and I was a couple months pregnant with Jessica. One day, we decided to take the kids to a beautiful lake not too far from where we were staying. We loaded up all the gear we would need—towels, sunscreen, plastic inflatable toys, water shoes—and headed for the lake.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and it was warm, but not too hot (especially considering that we are used to Texas summers). The scenery was gorgeous. The water was perfectly clear. Best of all, since it was fairly early in the morning, there was only one other family at this little beach.

We staked out a spot and headed for the water. The two younger kids wanted to stay where it was still quite shallow, so I sat in the water as they played around me. We even noticed about a million little fishes that swam by just a little further out. Wow! Fish! Right there! The kids were excited, though a little scared.

My husband took Ellie on one of the inflatables out into deeper water, where he could pull her along and she could float. They were having a grand time, and so were we, playing together. It was all brand new to the kids. I felt so relaxed, sitting in the water and feeling it lap around me, being just the right temperature, enjoying the beautiful scenery in the sunny quiet, and being with the people I loved most in all the world.

All too soon, it was time to go. The kids were getting tired. So we got out of the water. I made sure the little kids were following me. Lindsey ran on ahead as we made our way towards where we had left our towels and other stuff. Kenny trailed behind.

Actually, Kenny was what we call “dinking around”—that is, not following promptly. I encouraged him one more time to follow me, and then I turned away and began walking—slowly—hoping he would decide to follow.

Instead, after I had taken a few steps, he began to wail.

I turned back to see him rooted to the spot where he had been when I turned away from him. He was wailing, the tears flowing down his face.

It was a clear that Kenny felt abandoned and afraid.

Immediately, I turned back. I went to him, hugged him, and then scooped him up into my arms, holding him close and saying, “It’s okay, Kenny. Mommy’s here.”

I carried him back to the van that way, secure in my arms, comforting him with my touch, my voice, and my nearness.

It wasn’t until later that I thought about how this reflects our relationship with God.

Sometimes, it feels like God is walking away, doesn’t it?

Leaving us behind. Abandoning us.

Maybe we’ve gone through a season of hurt where it felt like instead of being close to us, God was more distant than ever before.

Maybe it felt like we were falling further behind, getting more and more desperate, until finally we were so far behind we could only see God disappearing in the distance.

What do we do during those times?

Sometimes, we get angry. We get mad at God for not making us feel better. For letting us hurt. Fine, we think, walk away. I’ll make it on my own, if that’s what I have to do.

Sometimes, like Kenny did, we simply wail out our anguish, as God (we think) gets farther and farther away.

What should we do? What is the right response when we feel distant from God, and we’re afraid, and we desperately need him?

Do what Kenny did.

Cry out.

Wail out your anguish to God.

You see, if I, as a human mother, heard my son’s anguish, was moved with compassion in my heart for him, and responded, how much more will God, the perfect Parent, respond to our heart’s cry?

Dear friend, it’s true that sometimes, God won’t fix our situation. Sometimes, no matter how much we cry out, the pain and grief will not disappear. They are something to be worked through, not something to get rid of.

But though He won’t always respond by fixing our situation, God will respond with Himself.

You see, God has promised. And He cannot and will not lie.

When you need Him, cry out. He’s there. It may look and feel like He’s far away, but He’s as close as your heart, and ready to respond when you need Him.

Is life going well for you right now? Call Him. He’s there to rejoice with you.

Is life more painful than you ever imagined? Cry out to Him. He’s there to grieve with you.

Crawl into his lap, lay your head on His chest, and feel His loving arms around you, holding you close.

Or if you can’t even crawl, then just cry out.

He will come to you.

Psalm 55:17—Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress, and he hears my voice.

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