It's all in the return... not the delivery.

Busy aisles, a low roar of inumerable conversations, shopping carts waiting impatiently to pass by unconcerned, detatched society and in this abyss of chaotic normality, I'm enjoying my brand new eleven year old son and his search for the perfect item to spend his birthday money on.
"Noah, do you have any idea what you're looking for, son?" "No ma'am, not really, kinda want something to add to my videography equipment, but maybe even something for the Wii." As we both looked to opposite sides of the aisle, me looking at movies, him looking at tech gear, I can sense my son's presence without seeing him, not something I'd done even a couple years ago, but I knew he was close. A momma can feel their children without touching them, as every fiber of my being has screamed to me, professing this innate knowledge. Just as I felt compelled to "re-group" with my son, out of the corner of my eye, in mid turn, I see the sweetest most gentlest face of an elderly woman beginning to appoach me.
"Ma'am, is this your son", with a quiet raspy southern voice and mishaped finger pointing at my brand new eleven year old.
Smiling, I responded, "Yes ma'am, it is", "is everything ok?" Random thoughts began flooding my head, "okay, did Noah bump into her, not knowing, because she is so tiny" or "did she need him to assist her in carrying something for her because she was so frail" or yet, "was she just curious if the young man standing beside me, with blonde hair, fair skin, rosey cheeks and ocean blue eyes, while I'm brown headed with hazel eyes, could actually be MY son?" My thoughts not only came to a screeching hault but they were set at peace when she began her explaination for asking.
"I'd like for you to know that this young man", gesturing towards Noah, "has the best manners I've seen out of a youngin in quite some time." She continued to share, "I was walking his way and as I got closer to him, he backed up out of the flow of the aisle and motioned", her mimicing what Noah did with his hands, escorting her by in front of him, "for me to pass, while saying, 'oh, excuse me ma'am, go ahead'." "I told him, thank you and he smiled right at me." With a teasing little giggle she said, "I walked on by him, but I just had to come back to tell whoever his momma was that she had such a little gentleman on her hands and quite a handsome one at that!" Words of gratitude were exchanged between me and the petite but spry older woman, not being aware that this brief encounter of words had been shared between her and my son and in an instant she disappeared from our life, abandoning us right there in the middle of Wal-Mart, left starring at each other. Me, grinning at Noah and him reverbing, "What? She needed to get by and I was hogging the aisle." After affirming Noah, laughingly I said, "Son, you make me smile, let's go."

Fast forwarding several weeks, an argument broke out between my oldest son, Noah and my youngest son, Jonah. While trying to follow a simple instruction of "boys, go clean up your room", given by me, confusion and pettiness began its ascent. I listened to it, the back and forth of the disagreement for several minutes and just before I was going to step in, Noah came barging into my room where I was putting away various things and heatedly said, "Momma, you gotta talk to Jonah, he is refusing to do his part and now he's accusing me of hitting him on the shoulder and I didn't."
Over the years I've handled such squabbles in many different ways, with four children all under the age of 5 years old till now, 5, 8, 9, and 11, you have numerous opportunities to try just about everything to cease or at least minimize fussing between siblings. On this occasion, I chose to not allow exaggerated and elaborate defense techniques to rule over the situation. I simply said, "Noah, babe, I really don't wanna hear this. All I want is for you boys to work together and just clean up your room." Reitterating my request, I told both boys to focus on the task and finish up. Back to my room, resuming straightening up, I hear "it", the arguing, firing up again. Feeling those beginning moments of frustration over an elementary job given, I try to ignore it, hoping they will reslove it themselves as I've encouraged them to do in the past. Not happening. Stomping foot steps towards my room gave way to a "pushed to my limits" Noah. He said, "I cannot take this anymore, he is lying, I am not touching him", he continues on, "he is just trying to get your attention and put off doing his part." Questioning him, I said, "why would he do that, he knows he has to clean up his area in the room and if you're not touching him, why would he say that you are?" Noah fully convinced of him being correct, but not recognizing that Jonah was most likely just aggravating his older brother by teasing him, just couldn't let it rest. It bothered him that Jonah was being silly, teasing and working at a slower pace while he was being deligent, but deligent to what? I encouraged Noah to return to his room and stay focused on his things that were in need of straightening and to be dilegent with only that. I encouraged Jonah to do the same and with best efforts, him trying to convince me that Noah had indeed pushed him on the shoulder, he too, was dilegent to cast the shadow of doubt. Not always knowing exactly what happens behind my back, trying to figure out who was exaggerating or who was flat out lying, I chose one last attempt of verbal reprimand, "Boys, there WILL BE consequences to bare if this is not immediately resolved, now I'm done, get back to work."
I hear progress being made, less verbal interaction and more toys being put in the toy box, but still.... still a low murmoring is there. I can tell it's not cooperative conversation, but the follow through is occuring, none the less.
He just couldn't stand it, but with a much softer, more humble tone, Noah entered my room. Tears swelled up in his eyes, he said, "do you believe him or me?" I, already over this, explained that Jonah was just teasing him, trying to frustrate him, to throw him off tasks and that he needed to drop it, ignore it and be done. The persistence of Noah in the moments that followed, heeded a "gut check" in me.
Cracked voice and desperation on his face, Noah began his explanation of reason for persuit of truth. "Momma, I know that Jonah is lying, I'm not calling him a liar because you've taught us not to call anyone that, but I know he is lying and do you wanna know how I know?" Being that this was the last thing that I wanted to "waiste" my time on, I was compelled to hear my son out. "Yes, tell me", I urged. "Because momma, I know because I have taught him how to exaggerate the truth by yelling louder when something small happened or adding good to my bad story to make me look better and you've always taught us that exaggerating the truth is just like lying and so he is lying about me hitting him. I did touch his shoulder, pointing out where some of his stuff was under the bed, but I did not hit him. He is lying and he knows I've been in trouble for lying in the past, so he thinks it'll be easier for you to believe him over me. He's just mad because he thought he was done and I pointed out more for him to do." Me sighing, he continued,"Momma, please believe me, I know, because I taught him."
I assured my son that day, that I, indeed, did believe him and whether he could understand my being pleased or finding it confusing to his little mind, I was most assuredly proud of him for admitting to teaching and exampling poor choices to his syblings. A sense of relief completely drowned out the looming discomfort of not being believed due to the spirit of lying which holds a grip on his heart at times.
There are days as a parent you truly feel like a failure and the efforts you pour into raising a godly generation seem ineffective and feable, but God in His uniqueness finds a way to bring the "return" full circle for days just like this.

Dipping Into My Bucket

It's an unusual atmosphere, the morning sun already hot enough to comfortably bear, as it beats its way into our stagnant home. No air conditioning, again. Kids are dressed and quickly gathering their things for school, finishing last minute touches to personal attire, verbally rattling off check lists of school reminders and who wants what snack. The temperature was rising not only in our home, but in me as well from the hustle when a knock at the door stopped my busy mind. It was the property manager reminding me to leave the back door unlocked so the AC man would have access to the inside thermostat after he was finished fixing the unit. Over the past four days, this was not a man that I looked forward to speaking to. He stirred a frustration in me with his seemingly lack of priority and consideration that our family had been without any cool air for several days. Of course, he had his reasons and excuses of why things got shifted but we were the ones to endure. The comfort of what we allow ourselves to get use to and then the abrupt denial of it challenges you in a way that most of the time proves to be less than... less than happy, less than kind, less than patient even less than understanding. Empty.

"Load up, kiddos"! While on my out the door, with hopes in my return I'd be brushed with cool air on my face, my son, Jonah, walks back inside to report what I assumed to be a mishap. His brow was fretted but not frustrated, just imposing that, "I need to tell you something". Even though time was beginning to feel a little pressed, I could tell I needed to stop and listen. Something was different. His voice was eager and his spirit, confident.

His explanation unfolded as gesturing hands began to emphasize: "Mama, Noah is dipping into my bucket. You see, everyone has their own invisible bucket and it either has goodness in it or no goodness in it." Speaking more emphatically, "Noah is dipping into my bucket and taking my goodness from me, but because I want my bucket to be full of goodness, I am writing Eden a 'have a good day at school' note because helping someone else or doing something nice fills your bucket back up with goodness and I want my bucket to be full! And if I take someone's goodness from their bucket by being mean to them then I feel sad and not happy. Do you see Mama what I'm saying?" I stood there wide eyed and hanging on every word, the whole time listening to the profound words coming from my young son, who had lived a long life of eight years. When I was sure he was finished, I raced to his side, wrapping my arms around his soft shoulders and neck. Pulling him to me so tight, so secure, I said, "Jonah.... that was the most wonderful thing I've ever heard you say..." then giggling, "and also the nicest 'tattle-tale' I've ever heard, too!" We laughed together, but I quickly affirmed him, making sure he knew that "he" my eight year old son had just taught me, his mama, a very important lesson in life.

After my truck was emptied of all its precious cargo for the morning, the "dipping into my bucket" lesson made it's way to the forefront of my thoughts and laid heavy on my heart. How often am I dipping into someone's bucket taking their goodness from them? Is my bucket full from doing something nice or helpful or even just acting out of loving kindness? Well, according to my youngest son, I've got a lot of "filling" to do, not only in my own bucket but in others as well, starting with the Property Manager's bucket!


"...and the little children shall lead them"

Levi's Prom... in the future

It's dusk on a Saturday evening and as I'm walking off the beach, hand in hand with my middle son, Levi. Just me and him, soft quiet steps in the sand, in sync with the swinging of our arms and clutched hands. Somehow in this moment I felt the good kind of heaviness in my heart that I needed to really savor this moment, so I did. As we neared the end of our walk back to the truck, Levi, with his signature raspy little voice, asked me a question I never thought I'd hear again since graduating High School.... "mama, will you go to the prom with me"? I chuckled and said, "boy, why in the world would you even be thinking about going to the prom, you've got a few years before that's gonna happen"? "because mama, I just wanna know if you'll go with me"? We never stopped walking and starring at the sand beneath our feet. "Levi, I promise when you get ready to go to prom, I'll be the last person you would want tagging along". With a shy like expression he said, "mama, why wouldn't you go with me, would you be embarrassed? Because I would never be embarrassed of you".... I squeezed his little hand three times signaling, "I Love You" and simply said, "I'll never be embarrassed to be with you, anywhere son".