The Chronicles of my Heart

As I sat rocking two day-old Olivia, I was overwhelmed with the need to tell her how thankful I was that the three months of bed rest I'd been on resulted in her coming ‘only’ one month early. I wanted her to know how thankful I was for her perfect and beautiful being and how full of hope I was for the life she had ahead of her. But she wouldn’t have understood, so I just held her close hoping she would feel my love.

Across the room, 5 year-old Zach and 1 ½ year-old Elizabeth sat playing. I wanted desperately to let Zach know how much I appreciated his willingness to play with his little sister and to share with him my feelings of pride, excitement and apprehension in regards to his entering kindergarten in the fall. I wanted him to know what a joy it was to watch him help his daddy in every way possible. I wanted to tell Elizabeth how proud (and relieved) I was that she had decided on her own to be a ‘big girl’ and use the potty all by herself and praise her for knowing her colors and being able to recognize the letters in the alphabet already. I wanted to tell them what a great job they were doing in welcoming their new baby sister to the family. But anything beyond “Good job, honey.” or “I’m so proud of you!” would have gone right over their heads. So I just smiled and told them I loved them.

But my heart kept telling me that wasn't enough, so while the girls slept peacefully and Zach was diligently hauling countless loads of dirt and gravel around the yard with his dump truck and tractor, I conveyed my thoughts to them the best way I knew how-I wrote each of them a letter. As I finished the last letter, I decided these letters would be the first of many more to come. I decided that throughout my lifetime I would periodically write letters to my children; letters that would provide insight as to what it was like to be their mother. I wanted my children to have the chronicles of my heart.

The number of letters I wrote increased to four when Emma was born, but that was fine-I had plenty to write about! Over the last twenty-five years my letters have disclosed  the joys and disappointments (yes, our children do disappoint us at times) their lives have brought into mine, the pride I feel in who they are and the ache in my heart that matched (or exceeded) the ache in theirs when they were hurting. The letters I have written contain words of encouragement as well as chastisement and have served to preserve memories of the special moments in their lives. The little things they said and did that often fade from our memory when the moment is past are forever recorded for their sake as well as mine.

I sometimes wonder what effect these letters will have on my children. Will my words bring smiles and happy tears to their faces the way they did mine? Will their questions be answered as to why I did the things I did? Will they commiserate with me when they read my words of worry and concern because they are feeling the same in regards to their own children?

There have been times I have contemplated not writing anymore letters and letting my children have them, but I know now that isn't going to happen. I’m not finished writing yet. I am still breathing, so I am still their mother. It's not much, but their letters will be a part of their inheritance-a legacy of who they are in their mother’s eyes. I want their letters to serve as a window to their childhood-an affirmation of how loved and valued they are just because they get up each morning and take a breath. I want the letters to serve as tools of accountability to live their lives as the man/women of God they were raised to be.

Zachery, Elizabeth, Olivia, and Emma wake up each morning in their own homes and live their own lives. But they also wake up knowing they are loved to the fullest. I have never used my letter writing as a substitute for letting my children know how precious they are to me. But these letters-the chronicles of my heart-will be the proof they can hold on to long after I am gone.

So if you don't want to risk letting another memory fade with time or want to explain why you did what you did, but knew it would fall on deaf ears; ears unable (or unwilling) to comprehend, I encourage you to pick up a pen and paper and start writing. It doesn't matter if you write a lifetime’s worth of letters, or just a few. What matters is that you leave your children something tangible to cling to when you are gone.

 

Love,
Momma D

 

What NOT to Feed a Kitten

How many times have you heard someone say something to the effect that kids today are smarter than they used to be? You'll usually hear this in reference to matters of technology, pop culture and society in general.

It's true. Today's children are more in-tune to what is going on around them, but knowing what is happening does NOT mean they understand what is happening. No matter how smart you think your children are, they are still children and have a child-like perspective on things (as they should have)...

Years ago, John and I, along with Zach, Elizabeth and Olivia, lived with my Granny for about two months while our house was being made ready to live in. But we did not come without a few other 'family members'-including our barn cat and her kittens.

Well...one evening Granny fixed chicken and dumplings for supper. She took a bit of the broth containing small bits of chicken in it; something she'd done countless times over the years and gave it to the cats to enjoy with their supper. But as luck would have it, there was a bit of gristle in it and one of the kittens choked on it and died. But wait, it gets 'better'.

The kitten just happened to be 3 year old Elizabeth's favorite. Being raised on a farm, none of my children were immune to the fact that things die, but when we explained that the kitten had choked on its supper and died, she asked what it had eaten. Granny, who felt bad enough already, was deeply apologetic when she revealed that it was the chicken she had given them for supper (which Elizabeth thought was 'so sweet of Granny' at the time).

Elizabeth shed a few tears and talked about the kitten off and on throughout the next day, but after that seemed to be fine. On Sunday, however, Elizabeth's Sunday school teacher could hardly contain her laughter when she told Granny, John and I what Elizabeth had said in class earlier. When she asked the children what they wanted to pray about, Elizabeth said she wanted prayers for her kitten. The teacher asked what was wrong with the kitten and Elizabeth matter-of-factly said, "Granny killed my cat."

Today's children are exposed to so much more than I was as a child and that's saying quite a bit since my childhood was spent in the midst of the Kennedy assassinations, the Viet Nam war, the Civil Rights movement and the era of 'free love' and the hippy culture. But exposure to grown-up matters doesn't guarantee a grown-up perspective of things.

As parents it is essential that you:

1. Do not overload your children with adult information. Let them be children for as long as possible. They have plenty of time to deal with life when they grow up.

2. Ask your children what they think and how they feel about the situations they are exposed to unavoidably. Knowing their perspective on things will help you help them.

Children are not the mini-adults we sometimes try to make them. I know as a parent I have been guilty of doing this at times. It's easy to do, but it's just as easy to let them stay little for a little while longer if we will only will.


Love,

Momma D

The Greatest Investment

I've always known it was important to encourage our children to have relationships with other Godly adults, but over the last couple of weeks I've been reminded that it's more than important. I've been reminded that these relationships are a true blessing from God.

This reminder came when each of my daughters received a special gift; a baby quilt lovingly hand-made by Ginnie.

Ginnie has been in my life since...well, since all my life. She has been and still is my dear friend and sister in Christ. She has been an example of what it is to invest yourself into the lives of people you love through Christian service in the church, on the mission field, in the public schools and at church camp. Her investments have touched my life in many ways, but none quite as special as those that have touched my children's lives as well. Ginnie...

• Was Olivia's first Sunday school teacher; faithfully instilling the word of God in her toddler-heart.
• Welcomed my children into her home when she hosted our lady's ministry meetings and I came with children in tow because John was on the night shift.
• Used her gift for creativity and craftiness to provide fun craft projects for VBS.
• Worked in the kitchen at church camp to provide food for my kids as well as the other hungry campers.
• Prayed for my children.
• Rejoiced with my children when they were baptized, graduated from high school, got married and as they became parents.

This brings me back to the quilts. The fact that my children have moved away from home did not diminish Ginnie's desire to continue investing in their lives. She invested her time and talent to convey her love for them and for their babies.

Making this sort of investment is something everyone should do. Even in the business of being a parent we need to take the time to invest ourselves into the lives of their friends and other young people. We need to let them know they matter 'just because' and that their needs and desires are concerning to us. We need to praise them for their accomplishments and hold them accountable when they fall. We need to mirror the heart of Jesus to them.

If you don't believe me, just ask my children. Yes, the quilts are lovely and special, but it's the reason for the quilts that matters most. So thank-you, Ginnie, Tessie, Willie and Ann, Albert and Dorothy, Charlie and Linda, Jack and Marge and several others who took the time to make an investment into the lives of our children because every smile, every word and every action helped to make them who they are today.

Now the question is...who will you invest in?


Love,

Momma D

A Little Work Never Hurts Anyone

My son, Zach, sent me a text message and a picture the other day that brought back a flood of memories. The text told me he had discovered one of his cows had calved, but that the calf had slid under the fence and was covered in snow. And so the challenges of raising a bottle calf began for Zach and Becca. But if you were to ask my granddaughters, Mackenzie and Macy, they would say the joys of raising a bottle calf had come their way. I say this because the picture Zach sent with his
message was a picture of Mackenzie and Macy with their new responsibility; both girls smiling from ear to ear.

Oh, the memories! Raising our four children on a farm gave them plenty of opportunities to enjoy responsibilities like Mackenzie and Macy have with the new calf. And I can honestly say they were always ready to take turns feeding the bottle calves we raised and the occasional lamb who needed a surrogate mom...or three or four.

Our children willingly (most of the time) did their daily chores, helped in the hay field, took their turn doing late-night lamb checks during lambing season and there was even that time I needed help tracking down a few goats along a major highway (thanks, Olivia). And through it all, we worked as a family.

Our children weren't perfect. There were times they didn't do what they were expected to do (especially when it came to pulling weeds). But they never resented the fact that they were expected to work. In fact, it gave them a sense of pride. They were proud they were able to do things other kids didn't know how to do. They were proud of the fact that they earned the money to buy their first car or truck, their insurance, cell phone and the little extras they wanted that didn't fit into our budget.

The lesson I want to leave you with in sharing my memories is that of responsibility. Children need responsibility. They should be expected to do regular chores and to help out around the house with the bigger jobs; jobs like cleaning out the garage, getting ready for a yard sale and yard work. Oh, and did I mention they need to do this without expecting to be paid for everything they do?

That's right. We didn't give our children a regular allowance. They did their chores because that's what being part of a family is all about--working together for the good of everyone. No, we didn't use our children as cheap child labor. They were never made to do things so that we wouldn't have to do anything. We taught them to be responsible by example--by working with them.

While our children didn't have everything they wanted (what child should?), they always had everything they needed and we supported them in their extra-curricular activities by making sure their fees were paid, equipment was purchased, practices were attended and that we were there to cheer them on.

Most importantly, however, they knew they were loved and that because we loved them we wanted to give them something more important than things. We wanted to give them the ability to make their own way and to be people of integrity.

Sadly there are way too many parents who feel that doing everything for their children instead of teaching them to do for themselves is to show them love. But a little work never hurt anyone...including a child. If you don't believe me, take a look around. You won't have to look very far to find a young person lacking in the area of responsibility and work ethics.

That chore chart is looking pretty good now, isn't it?


Love,

Momma D

Because Momma D Says: Children Should be Seen AND Heard

Because Momma D Says: Children Should be Seen AND Heard: In the past children were not encouraged or even allowed to interject themselves into conversations between adults. It was expected that chi...

Children Should be Seen AND Heard

In the past children were not encouraged or even allowed to interject themselves into conversations between adults. It was expected that children would sit at the meal table in silence; eating everything on their plates (or being reminded of all the starving orphans...). Children weren't expected to speak without being given permission and they wouldn't dream of interrupting a conversation between adults.

Now while I'm not arguing against children having good great manners or against teaching children to have respect for their elders and those in authority, I am saying we shouldn't be so quick to dismiss our children. I'm saying we owe it to our children to make them feel validated; to let them know that their thoughts and opinions matter.

As a mother of four I have lived this countless times, but one of the best examples I've experienced that gets to the heart of what I'm saying didn't even come from me...

Raising our children in a small town had its ups and downs...good points as well as not-so-good ones. But one definite advantage was the fact that our church family was small and close-knit. Our four children were loved, talked to and listened to by everyone--including our preacher, Dave...

Sunday night church service consisted of a small gathering of members from our congregation to study a book of the Bible. This particular Sunday night was to be the first in a series on the book of James. Dave began the study by giving a brief introduction to the book. He started off by saying, "The book of James was written by James, the brother of Jesus."

Before he could say one more word, our three year-old daughter, Emma, who had been laying in the pew playing with her toys, sat straight up, looked right at Dave and said, "Well, Dave, I didn't know Jesus had a brother." Dave, not missing a beat, said, "Well Emma, he did. In fact he had four brothers and some sisters, too." Dave then picked up where he left off as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. And Emma, who was satisfied with the answer given her, returned to playing (and obviously listening) quietly.

Some of you might be thinking things like 'I'd be so embarrassed' or 'I would have made sure she knew not to ever do that again'. Not me and not anyone in the church building that night. No, to everyone there, Emma was simply a little girl who had a question that deserved an answer. She was not made to feel as if she had said or done anything wrong. She was not scowled at or thought to be rude or naughty. In fact, nearly everyone took the time to compliment her on being a good listener and wanting to know more.

My point is this...children are eager to please us and eager to learn from us. So why, as a parent, would you want to do anything to squelch that? Why would you want to ever give your child the impression that their thoughts and words did not matter or were not wanted? Oh I know there are times the sheer number of words that come from a preschooler each day are immeasurable and you feel your ears simply can't take much more. But trust me, all too soon those years are gone--replaced by teenagers and young adults who won't be nearly as eager to talk to you...UNLESS they've had plenty of practice and a captive and eager audience prior to reaching that stage in life.

So my challenge to you is this: Take the time each day to talk to, listen to and enjoy conversing with your children.


Love,

Momma D

Because Momma D Says: I Just Love You So Much

Because Momma D Says: I Just Love You So Much: Have you ever been at a loss for words; you knew you should same something but you weren't sure of what that something should be. Of may...

I Just Love You So Much

Have you ever been at a loss for words; you knew you should same something but you weren't sure of what that something should be. Of maybe you've done just the opposite. You know, the old open-mouth-insert-foot routine?  So what do you do in situations like these?

You might remember your grandma or mom telling you as a child that 'if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all'. Sound familiar? Now while I definitely agree with the concept of teaching our children to not say things that are hurtful and unkind, I think we need to take it a step farther. I think as parents we need to learn a lesson from my sweet, nearly three year-old granddaughter, Macy Scout...

Macy loves to talk on the phone. But let's face it-at 2 1/2 there isn't a whole lot for her to talk about. The dogs, the sheep and cows, what she and her sister have been doing, whether or not she's been in time-out that day, where Grandpa is (and wanting to talk to him).... You know, the normal stuff. But that's usually not enough for Macy-she wants more 'air time'. So what does she do? When she cannot think of anything else to say, she simply says, "I just lub you so, so much, Nanna."

I instantly respond with the same and then she says it again..."I just lub you so, so much, Nanna."

Doesn't that just melt your heart? It sure does mine! The point I want to make though, is this...

Instead of teaching our children to be silent rather than not say things that are rude or unkind, teach them to fill that silence with words that encourage, mend relationships, melt hearts and share God's love. If we teach our children to go that extra step and fill the silence with friendship and love there won't be near as much room for bullying, gossip and all those other hurtful things.

Love,

Momma D

The Not-so-big Mistake

Elizabeth has always been my orderly, methodical one-just like her dad. It has served her well and is just one of the many things about her that makes her the wonderful nurse she is. But once upon a time Elizabeth had to put aside her design for what she thought the order of things should be...

Elizabeth was more than ready to start kindergarten-so much so that she was only four when she climbed onto that school bus to enter the world of education. She was bright, articulate and loved to learn. Thankfully, we still had half-day kindergarten because her younger sister and I were more than ready to have her return home to eat lunch with us and tell us all about her first day of school.

She stepped off the bus and immediately started telling me the names of her new friends, how her brother had walked her to her class and that they had a snack-but that she didn't drink her milk (no surprise there). All seemed right in her world. But when we sat down to eat lunch, she looked at me with all the seriousness in the world and said, "Mom, I think I made a big mistake."

"Really? What mistake do you think you made, sweetie,"" I asked.

"I think going to school is a mistake," Elizabeth said sadly.

My heart sank. This was something that couldn't be changed. Did I not know my daughter as well as I thought I did? I knew I had to fix this quickly, so I hesitated for only a second before I asked Elizabeth why she thought going to school was a mistake.

"Mom," she said with a mix of sadness and disappointment, "They didn't teach me to read."

Talk about relief! I almost laughed out loud I was so relieved. But I didn't. This was serious stuff to Elizabeth so it was serious stuff to me, too.

As parents we sometimes have a been-there-done-that kind of attitude. We know that many of the things our children worry about (like not learning to read on the very first day of kindergarten) aren't nearly as 'bad as all that'. But they don't. And to make them feel small or to insinuate their feelings are unimportant or insignificant is NOT a good thing.

Instead of dismissing their feelings as silly or unnecessary, take the time to explain why they don't need to worry and/or how they can (with your help and encouragement) overcome and work through their feelings and concerns.

In Elizabeth's case it took little more than an explanation of how school 'works' and the assurance that she would learn to read when everyone in the class was ready to learn. Well, that and the promise to start teaching her a few more sight words at home.

The world is a great big and somewhat scary place to children. They need to know that their own little piece of  it (aka, home) is safe, nurturing, encouraging and a place where they will never be made to feel insignificant and will always be listened to.


Love,

Momma D

The Ugly House

One of the high school home-ec classes my kids took was called International Foods. It's pretty much just what it sounds like. And it's lots of fun. So fun, in fact, that the first semester final is comprised of one task...to construct a gingerbread house complete with cut-out doors and windows and whatever edible decorations the student wishes to use. Sounds like tons of fun, right? That's not what my youngest daughter, Emma would say...

Emma is articulate, knows every muscle and bone in the body and writes beautiful poetry. She's a wonderful military wife and soon-to-be momma. But she is not a gingerbread house maker. Even the teacher (who has known Emma since the day she was born) had to admit it just wasn't her 'thing'.

Emma didn't even want to bring the thing home. But school policy (I think it was at the janitors' insistence) stated students could not dispose of them at school. So when I picked her up at school the day she was to bring it home, Emma walked out of the school carrying a trash bag holding her gingerbread creation.

My four year-old granddaughter, Mackenzie, and I both asked to see it. "No", Emma said. It's really bad. REALLY bad. "It's going in the trash dumpster as soon as we get home", Emma insisted.

Mackenzie didn't understand the problem, so persisted in wanting to see what was in the bag until Aunt Emma finally relented. When we got home we all headed for the trash dumpster to view what Emma considered to be a train wreck of a project. When she lifted the bag off the house, all I could say was, "Emma, you're right. That's bad. REALLY bad. Just toss it." And then we both started laughing so hard we got tears in our eyes.

Now before you pronounce me the world's worst mom, you need to hear me out...

If I would have proclaimed the house to be a work of art, I would have been lying and she would have known it. I would have been giving her a false sense of self-esteem.

If I would have told Emma she deserved a better grade than what she got, I would have been lying and she would have known it. I would have been sending her the message that she was being treated unfairly when she wasn't; giving her a false sense of accomplishment.

Parents, we aren't doing our kids any favors when we tell them they are good at something they clearly aren't. And let's face it...no one is good at everything. So instead of lying to your kids and encouraging them to go after something that makes them feel badly about themselves and doesn't give them a sense of satisfaction, help them find those things they DO excel and shine in and then encourage them with everything you've got.

Don't be afraid to tell them their gingerbread house is ugly...as long as you show them each and every day how beautiful you know they are on the inside and help them to know the same.


Love,

Momma D