Chiggers and Blackberries, Crossing the Finish Line, Saying Goodbye and So Much More

“Parenting is about so much more than diapers, Band-Aids, homework and curfews. Parenting is being there; listening, talking, forgiving, asking forgiveness and most of all, loving. I know this to be true because Momma D says it is.”

These are the words directly under the title of this blog. These are my words. These are words I believe with all my heart. I also believe that in order to be this kind of parent you have to experience life with your kids-the good, the bad, the funny, the sad, the beautiful and the ugly…all of it.

Camping, putting up hay, mission’s trips, swimming, working in the greenhouse, crossing the finish line, watching my children pledge their love and life to their spouses, the blessing of becoming a nanna and witnessing the birth of one of my grandchildren, seeing them grow into their adulthood—these are some of the good experiences of life I’ve lived with my children.

Being covered in chiggers after picking blackberries, arguing and fighting over things that really don’t matter, arguing and fighting over things that do matter, having to let them make their own mistakes, making more than a few of my own, misspoken or unspoken words from all our lips—these are some of the bad experiences of life I’ve lived with my children.

Scaling rock cuts in sandals and nice clothes to catch runaway livestock, ‘saving’ one of my kids from the beady-eyed stare of a vulture, countless games of hide-n-seek and program practices at church, farmer’s markets and spending time at the fair, grabbing black Friday bargains, listening to my kids tell me things the grandkids say and do and reminding them of their antics—these are just a few of the fun and humorous experiences I’ve lived with my children.

Saying goodbye to Granny and my dad, going through serious health problems, struggling with the labor pains and beyond-our-control issues of adoption, healing from broken hearts, making changes and choices we don't always understand, and stubborn pride--these are some of the sad and painful experiences I've lived with my children.

See? It's all there--the good, bad, and everything in between. Like it or not, that's the way it's supposed to be. Remember…parenting is listening, talking, forgiving, asking forgiveness, being present, knowing when to act and when not to and most of all, LOVING. So…unless you experience the good, bad, happy, sad, beautiful and ugly of life with children, you cannot truly know who your children are and cannot be a parent who knows what it is to parent from the heart.


Love,
Momma D
                                                                      

Happy Birthday Zach!

I have a mental treasure chest stuffed full of memories, but among the most dear and precious to me is one that happened at 10:52 am on December 31^st, 1982. The memory consists of two simple words repeated to me three times. The words were ‘thank-you’. They were spoken by my husband, John, with tears of joy running down his cheeks the moment the doctor presented us with our first child and only son, John Zachery Noble.

John’s words of thanks for our beautiful, healthy son (and tax deduction) were his own, but they were also an echo from my heart. The echo was equally thankful for a beautiful, healthy baby (and the fact that being ten days late didn’t make my labor very long or hard). J

While the focus of December 31^st in our family is on the fact that it is Zach’s birthday, for most people, the day is traditionally a time of making promises and resolutions to do all sorts of things—or to stop doing all sorts of things. This is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, I’m asking…even pleading with you to make the same New Year’s resolution I made for the first time that New Year’s Eve morning in 1982.

The resolution I’m asking you to make? To be thankful every single day for the privilege and blessing of being a parent. You heard me. We should be thankful every single day we can be called Mom or Dad.

Being a parent isn’t easy and it’s not always pleasant, but it is always a privilege to be thankful for.

That being said, I’m thankful Zach was such a happy, pleasant baby. I’m thankful Zach was a little boy who refused to entertain the thought of training wheels (at age 3), a little boy who lovingly cared for his little sisters, who worked side by side with his daddy from the time he could carry a hammer and I’m thankful for the times I was the one he looked for when he crossed the finish line in a track meet or cross-country race. I’m thankful for the dogwood blooms and for the help in the barn when we couldn’t save a ewe in distress of lambing. I’m thankful for the daughter in-law and two precious little girls he has given us.

And yes, I am even thankful for the difficult times—the times most parents experience to some degree or another. I’m thankful for these times because in working through them, we learn what we are made of and what it really means to be thankful for the bond of family now and forever no matter what.

So as you make your resolutions (or not) for this year, live each and every day of 2015 with an attitude of thankfulness that you are a parent.

 Love,

Momma D

                                                                    

Santa Doesn't Play Favorites

The other day I read a letter from a mom to parents everywhere. The letter requested that parents not give their children expensive gifts in the name of Santa Claus. She asked that if parents felt the need to give their children expensive gifts at Christmas time that they let their children know these things are from them; letting Santa give them the smaller, less expensive gifts. The reason for her request was simple—she wanted her children (and millions of others like them) to feel just as loved and valued by Santa as those children who received bigger and better gifts ‘from him’.

You see, this mother’s little girl came home from school the other day feeling less valued and loved than some of the other children in her class. It seems they had been discussing what Santa was going to be bringing and several of the little girl’s classmates were getting a (whole) lot more than she was.

This momma’s heart was breaking when the little girl said, “Does Santa like some kids more than he does others? Does he like _____ more than he likes me?”

When I read this, two things happened.

1)      My heart became heavy. It became heavy for this momma who was faced with repairing her little girl’s belief that she was as precious and valuable as anyone in Santa’s sight. My heart was heavy for the little girl who was made to question her self-worth and who is already aware that to some (many), your value is measured in dollars and cents. My heart was heavy for everyone who is missing what this season is all about.

2)      I could relate. I remember putting a play kitchen on layaway and needing the entire three months to pay that sixty dollars. I remember putting gifts under the tree every Christmas Eve after the kids went to bed while John asked, “Were we able to do it? Are they going to happy when they wake up and see what they got?”
 

As I write this, I find myself recalling many memories of Christmas' past and I realize few of them are about the actual gifts I've received. They are about the people and places I have experienced Christmas with. I am blessed to have a lifetime of Christmas memories and family and friends who understand what Christmas is really all about and it doesn’t have a thing to do with money.

What message are you sending to your children this Christmas? Is it a message that says bunches of presents equals bunches of joy? Or is it a message that says the only present that really matters is one wrapped and given with love?

Merry Christmas,

Momma D
                                                                 

The Real Santa Knows What He's Doing

For several years I had the esteemed honor of taking Mackenzie and Macy to see Santa…the real Santa. Seriously—this guy is the real deal right down to the long white beard and a kind, gentle smile and personality.

The first year Mackenzie was really able to comprehend the whole concept of Santa, though, she said something while we were waiting in line, that reminded me just how important it is we don't cause Santa to give our little ones a false sense of insecurity.
What did she say that led me to think this? Mackenzie said, “Nanna, he’s going to ask Macy and I if we’ve been good, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” I said, “he is. And when he does, you can both tell him you are very good girls because you are two of the best girls in the whole entire world.”

She listened to what I said, smiled and her sweet, sweet smile with a look of relief in her eyes, hugged my leg and turned her attention back to the displays and activities meant to keep the kids occupied while they waited to meet Santa.

Mackenzie’s question wasn’t asked with a great deal of anxiety or dread, but it bothers me that we (we, meaning society in general) have placed the thought in our children’s minds that Santa’s goodness and generosity is performance based. We’ve demoted Santa from the giver of love and good cheer to one who rewards only the ‘good’.

How sad is that! What’s more, if a little child is worried about what a stranger in a red suit and beard thinks of them, what do you think goes through their heads and hearts when you make them feel like they’ve disappointed you and let you down? What impression are you leaving in their tender little hearts and impressionable little minds when you give the impression that your love and respect have to be earned?

Our children don’t ask to be born. We make that decision for them. So the very least we can do is to let them know they don’t have to earn our love any more than they should have to be good in order to have a present or two under the tree on Christmas morning.

Our wait to see Santa was relatively short and both girls climbed up in his lap ready to tell him what they wanted. And you know what? Santa didn’t ask if they’d been good. Instead, he smiled at the girls and said, “I can see you are both very sweet (not good) little girls, so tell me what you’d like for Christmas.”

See, I told you he was the real deal.

Merry Christmas,
Momma D

                                                                    

Freckles and Stars

Last week I was browsing through a popular shopping website checking to see if there were any bargains I couldn’t live without. There weren’t, but I did see something that is forever imprinted in my mind and on my heart—a little girl’s necklace that said,

A little girl without freckles is like a night without stars.

It took all of about a half a heartbeat for images of three year-old Macy to start flashing through my mind. Not only does she have freckles on her little nose and cheeks, but her smile lights up a room (and your heart) at least as much as a sky full of stars lights up the night.

And then I thought of my children, children in-law and Mackenzie, Reuben, Laney and Essie. Each of them has their own unique way(s) of lighting up my heart. None of them is more special than the other or makes my heart any warmer, but each is different and works its ‘magic’ on this mom’s heart in a special way.

As parents we sometimes work so diligently to keep things fair and even between our children that we see them as one instead of the unique and precious individuals they are. We are so careful to ‘prove’ that we don’t have a favorite that we cheat our children out of knowing that each one is the favorite in their own special way.

So go ahead—take the time to let each one of your children know why they are the stars that light up your heart and sky. Let each of them know what your favorite thing(s) about them are. Go ahead…I dare you to make each of your children feel special and let them know they have their own special place in your heart that no one or nothing on earth can replace.

Love,

Momma D

                                                  

Caution: Christmas Carolers Not Welcome

Now that the Christmas season is here, I naturally think back on special memories of things I’ve done with my family and those kids I call mine from the many years spent as a youth director at church. There are literally enough memories to fill a book (or two), but one that is particularly special because it still makes me laugh is one that involves caroling and a nursing home…

It was Saturday morning and the other youth director and I were taking a fairly good-sized group of elementary and middle-school kids caroling at the nursing homes in our community. The first stop we made was to the home where a couple of our elderly church members were living, so we planned to make their rooms our first stop. But when we walked into the building we found the lobby full of residents so we decided to brighten their morning with our cheery voices. And so we sang. We sang Up on the Housetop, Joy to the World, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, Silent Night and of course, we finished with a hearty rendition of We Wish You a Merry Christmas.
As soon as we finished the last note of our final song, one of women in the room who was sitting in front of the television, turned to the woman sitting next to her and said (in a loud voice), “I’m glad those *$*# kids stopped singing. I couldn’t hear the television.”

I am laughing as I write because I can still see the looks of shock on their faces. This was immediately followed by one-syllable comments of “Wha?”, “Huh?” “Uhhhh” which was then followed by pursed lips trying to hold in giggles. It didn’t work. But that was probably because I was laughing, too.

We quickly regained our composure and left the room to sing for those we felt sure would be more appreciative. As we walked, down the hallway, the kids started talking about what had happened…

“Did she really mean that?”

“No, I don’t think so. Old people are just like that sometimes.”

“Why didn’t she like our singing?”

“Who knows? Maybe she has bad memories of Christmas or maybe she’s sad because no one comes to see her.”

“Or maybe she’s just a grouch.”

“Maybe...probably.”

“You think?”

“Oh, well, we didn’t mean to make her mad. Besides, it’s the thought that counts.”

“That’s right. We meant well.”

They meant well. Their intentions were as pure as pure could be—to bring joy to elderly people at Christmas time—and no matter how it was perceived by some (or one), that really was what mattered. After making sure they understood they had done nothing wrong and that one person’s response should not keep them from trying to make people smile, we continued caroling and had a great time doing so.

But as I think about that day now, I also think about how many times as parents we take our children’s actions at face value rather than looking to the heart of the matter and their intentions.

When they cook breakfast and set the toaster on fire do we only see burned toast or do we see an act of service out of love?

When we have to corral a run-away llama do we see a hassle or do we see a child who was trying to do extra chores because she wanted to help out more? (My kids know what I’m talking about.)

When the orange towels fade onto white t-shirts, do we see a child that is trying to do more than they are capable of or do we see a child trying to help out while you are sick in bed with the flu?

Are you getting the message here?

Our children are not perfect. Sometimes they make messes and mistakes in the process of doing something with the purest and best of intentions to help…serve…love.

The question is this: Do we see past the mess and into their heart or do we leave the impression that we are just waiting for our children to ‘stop singing so we can hear the television’?

Love,

Momma D

 

                                                                  

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving from Momma D and the rest of the Noble family. I hope you are taking this time to make some sweet and lasting memories with the ones you call your own. I know I am.


Love,
Momma D

                                                             

Is Your Family An Organism Or an Organization

When Elizabeth was a teenager, one of the jobs she had was that of a checker at a local grocery store. Naturally she met all kinds of people as they came through her line. Some were nice, some were not so nice.

Shortly before Thanksgiving one year, she had the displeasure of having to deal with one of the not-so-nice customers; a grouchy middle-aged man who not-so-gently dropped a frozen turkey onto Elizabeth’s hand; breaking her finger.

By the time she got home her finger was swollen and every shade of blue and purple you can imagine and was causing her a great deal of pain.

Naturally John and I were concerned and upset that someone had purposefully hurt Elizabeth, but it was big brother Zach who was ready to come to his sister’s defense. When Elizabeth revealed the man was a regular customer at the store (and always grouchy), Zach suggested that he and John have a little talk with him about how to treat people—especially Elizabeth. John quickly closed that idea down for obvious reasons, even though it was sweet to see his concern for his sister.

Aw, isn’t that sweet! Isn’t it nice to see a family being so loving and protective of each other?

I have a confession to make. My family is NOT perfect. We don’t always treat each other with that kind of love and concern. Sometimes we argue, hurt each other’s feelings, say or do things we would never say or do to our friends and take each other for granted. But when all is said and done we are still family.

We are a family who loves one another and who is there for one another in good times and bad. We laugh at and with each other, we cry together, play together, work together, pray together, eat together, raise children together and know that nothing can ever change the fact that we are forever bound together by blood and love…whether we like it or not. J

So while we are far from perfect, we are what could easily be described as an organism; a bunch of ‘cell’s’ interdependent on one another. Without any one of us we would not be complete. For this I am thankful—especially since so many families today seem more like organizations—groups of people working separately toward the same goal of health, wealth and happiness.

I’d rather be an intricate part of an organism instead of a member of an organization any day. How about you?

Love,

Momma D
                                                              

Way to Finish!!!

If you spend any time at all around children, you know they can be incredibly sweet and incredibly mean in the time it takes for the heart to beat another beat. They don’t always mean to be mean. Sometimes it just happens. You know what I’m talking about—one toddler takes another toddler’s toy and within seconds you have an all-out toy room brawl on your hands. Or when someone makes fun of your second-grader’s haircut they strike back out of the need to mask their hurt and humiliation.

There comes a time, however, when these outbursts of meanness are no longer reflexes or ‘innocent’ acts of self-preservation. There comes a time when children mistreat others because they want to…because it gives them a sense of power…because they think it is okay to make fun of someone else…because they can. But parents, hear me loud and clear when I say it is NEVER EVER okay for your child to make fun of someone and it is your job as a parent to teach and reinforce this essential life-lesson.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—I’m far from being the perfect parent, but this is one of the things I know I got right. All four of my children demonstrated this on numerous occasions, but one of the most vivid recollections of this comes from my son, Zach.

Zach was a runner—both track and cross country. No, Zach was a really good runner. He broke school records and was awarded numerous gold, silver and bronze medals to ‘prove’ his skill. Had they awarded medals for good sportsmanship and teamwork, too, Zach would have earned gold in those ‘events’, too. You see, there was a boy on Zach’s track and cross country teams who was looked at as strange…odd…nerdy…or whatever similar word you would like to insert there. He was the kid no one sat with at lunch, the one who got his books knocked out of his hands and all those ridiculous, mean-spirited high school shows of immaturity. On top of that, this boy consistently finished last. Dead last. But each and every time this boy came across the finish line, he did so with Zach cheering him on; clapping, encouraging and saying, “Way to finish, “Forrest””. 

Zach and I never really talked about why he did it, but I knew. He did it because he knew it was the right thing to do. He knew this young man deserved to feel valued and respected for finishing. Yes, he may have always finished last, but he always finished and Zach knew what it took to do so.

Teaching your children to see life through the eyes of others—especially those they see as fodder for ridicule, humiliation, pranks and bullying—is a gift to everyone and a valuable lesson in compassion, honor and integrity.

I’m sure Zach wasn’t always a gold medalist in the way he treated others. In fact, I’m sure his sisters would vouch for thatJ. Hey, no one is perfect. But I am sure he knows it is never okay to be a bully and that everyone deserves to be treated fairly and with kindness.

With all the pressure put on kids today to be the best…at the top of the heap…number one…to look ‘just so’ and all the other junk society throws at them, it can be difficult for them to understand that it is NOT okay to mistreat others and that winning at all costs is NOT okay. As a parent, you MUST teach and model behavior that says just the opposite—that treating others the way you want to be treated is what life is really all about.

Love,

Momma D

                                                                 

 

Picking Up Walnuts...Part Two

If you remember from last week’s post, picking up walnuts each fall was NOT one of my kids’ favorite chores. And that’s putting it mildly. Except for this one time…

One of Elizabeth's MANY egg customers was an old man who lived a couple of miles down the road. He lived well below the poverty level and had serious heart problems.

I am sad to say that I don’t remember his name—I don’t even know for sure that I ever knew his name. What I do know, however, is that every other week he would knock on our door and politely ask to purchase a dozen eggs; handing me a crumpled dollar and the empty egg carton from his previous visit.

One fall day, however, after asking for his eggs, he asked if I thought we could spare a few walnuts. He quickly went on to say he’d be happy to pick them up himself, but that he’d sure like a few.

Without hesitation I told him he could have all the walnuts he wanted. I told them he could also have the sack full I’d picked up earlier in the day that was leaning against the shed and that if he needed something to put them in I would get him some feed sacks as soon as I checked on the baby, who was sleeping. He thanked me, but said he’d brought a few buckets just in case I said yes. So after putting his eggs in his car he went over to the walnut tree nearest the road and started picking them up and putting them into his bucket a few at a time.

A few minutes later the school bus dropped Elizabeth and Olivia off in front of the house and they came running in asking what ‘the egg guy’ was doing out by the walnut tree. When I told them I’d said he could take what he wanted, they both made comments about him being too old and too sick to be doing that and went to put their things away.

A couple of minutes later I looked out the window to find both the girls silently helping ‘the egg guy’ pick up walnuts. With their high-level energy they could pick up several to his one and in no time his buckets were full.

The girls didn’t have to help. They hated picking up walnuts (and still do). But it makes this mom’s heart happy to know that even ‘way back then’ helping someone in need took priority over their own dislikes and displeasures.

My children didn’t learn to put their feelings aside for the sake of others at school or from a cartoon on television or a book on their shelf. They learned to have a servant’s heart from seeing others (their dad and I, Granny, and the adults at church who took the time to love them and pay attention to them).

I don’t say this to be prideful. I say this because the truth of the matter is that children really do learn what they live. They take their cues from you. So ask yourself this question: what are you teaching your children?

Thanks, kids, for being such eager and good students!

Love,
Momma D