Tag Archives: MyBigJesus

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

A Christmas Story

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My daughter likes to have me read the Bible to her before she goes to bed. We have two versions that we read to her: The Beginner’s Bible and The Jesus Storybook Bible (both by Zonderkidz). For some reason, the entire season of Advent, we hadn’t read from the latter of the two versions until the other night. I was laying in her bed, her head nestled on my lap, and read the story of the Nativity, as written in The Jesus Storybook Bible.

Y’all. I was weeping.

I will first say that I’ve looked at the Nativity story – specifically Mary and her blessed job – a little different since becoming a mother myself. It’s rocked my world the past few Christmases, thinking about carrying a child you know will change the world in the best and most terrifying of ways. I’ll share a few favorite moments, but I have to say that I love the annunciation story:

“‘Mary, you’re going to have a baby. A little boy. You will call him Jesus. He is God’s own Son. He’s the One! He’s the Rescuer!’
…Wait. God was sending a baby to rescue the world?
‘But it’s too wonderful!’ Mary said and felt her heart beating hard. ‘How can it be true?’
‘Is anything too wonderful for God?’ Gabriel asked.
So Mary trusted God more than what her eyes could see. And she believed. ‘I am God’s servant,’ she said. ‘Whatever God says, I will do.'”

I love the way they don’t leave out the nuance of Mary’s fear mingled with excitement, followed by complete and total trust. My two-year-old might not have picked it up, but that was where the tears began. And here’s where they really picked up: the story of the shepherds. You see, I had never given a thought to God as a daddy. A great, big, Holy Father, sure. But a giddy, brand new Daddy? It melted me.

“You see, God was like a new daddy – he couldn’t keep the good news to himself. He’d been waiting all these long years for this moment, and now he wanted to tell everyone.
So he pulled out all the stops. He’d sent an angel to tell Mary the good news. He’d put a special star in the sky to show where his boy was. And now he was going to send a big choir of angels to sing his happy song to the world: He’s come! Go and see him. My little Boy.”

My little Boy. Thinking about my own little boy and his excited his wonderful daddy was when he was born made me wonder how much more excited God was to see his tiny Son be born!

Wrapping up the story was a perfect summation, written in a way that all can understand:

“But this child was a new kind of king. Though he was the Prince of Heaven, he had become poor. Though he was the Mighty God, he had become a helpless baby. This King hadn’t come to be the boss. He had come to be a servant.”

The excitement and wonder of Jesus’ arrival at Christmas is still a glorious foreshadowing of the sacrifice and hope of Easter. A incredible story of the humble beginnings of a baby King, growing into an unparalleled story of miracles, prophecy and fulfillment, suffering, death, and resurrection all for the sinners who had turned from Him. Reading between the lines of a children’s story, I experienced a shift from the busyness and excitement to gratefulness and conviction. I belong to this baby King, and he is my reason for everything I do.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

I Love You, But…

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I noticed this phrase I’ve been using recently – and I even caught Hubby saying it today. sometimes, when I’m telling EK to do something, she gets frustrated or even cries. So the next time I tell her, I often begin my sentence with “I love you, but…” Here are a few examples:

I love you, but you have to go to bed now.

I love you, but you can’t hit your brother.

I love you, but you have to eat your breakfast.

I love you, but you can’t wear your too-big, plastic, high-heeled princess shoes to school.

See what I mean? I don’t know if I do it because my parents did it, or if I made it up all on my own. But when she starts the tears, or stomps her feet and slams doors in frustration (definitely my daughter – sorry to pass that on) I want to head her off by declaring my love for her, reminding that I have her best interest in mind, and that I’m not telling her to do something she doesn’t want to do just for kicks. But I’m using my love for her like a disclaimer. I’m saying it just before I deliver the final blow of bad news: I love you, but we aren’t watching any more Bubble Guppies today.

My love for my kids shouldn’t be a disclaimer, or even a reason that I can tell them what to do. My love should be the viewpoint from which I act, speak, and parent in general. My love should be what chooses my words and lifts my hands. My love is the reasoning behind wanting to help my kids be healthy, responsible, kind, and happy – not the thing I say before I force them into those things. So I’m going to challenge myself: I won’t follow my “I love yous” with a “but”. I won’t discount my love by saying it with an ulterior motive. I love my kids. I love them regardless of any and every situation they could possibly be in, which is why I will choose to parent without excuses, even if the excuse was “I love you”. There is no “I love you, but…” There is only an internal “I love you, so…” I will help you make the best choices now, so that when you’re older, you’ll make the best choices on your own.

My Big Jesus

I Want My Daddy!

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*This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com*

Toddlers can sometimes do things that… get under your skin.

I know. Big surprise, right? At two and a half, my daughter is a whirlwind, and I love it. She’s inquisitive, musical, busy, smart, and a hundred other things at any given moment. But recently, she’s got this thing she says that for some reason affects my heart differently 8than anything else she says. Those words are simple, and repeated often, but they tug at me every time. “I want my Daddy.”

Sometimes, this sentence comes at a time when she’s tired, and knows her Daddy is the best snuggler. Sometimes, this sentence is thrown in my face because I’ve told her not to push her brother. Other times, it’s cried out because he’s working and she misses him in a random moment. But each time I hear it, I’ve got mixed feelings. At first, I think, “It’s so sweet that she loves her Daddy so much!” I mean, #agirlandherdad am I right?

But after hearing it a lot, repeatedly, especially when I am right there to snuggle or help or kiss booboos or whatever it is she needs, I can feel the thoughts creeping into my mind… “Am I not good enough? Why doesn’t she want me? Does she not love me as much as she loves her Daddy?”

Seriously, Whitney? Get a grip. She’s two.

But still… my deepest fears and insecurities could be realized in that one sentence. I want my Daddy… for a thousand reasons you don’t want to hear.

I just have to remember that she does love me, and she does need me, too. There are things I do better than Daddy, and times that as a girl, and a woman, she will need her mother. And upon mentioning these thoughts and fears to Hubby, the filled me in that when I’m not there, she does also say, “I want my Mommy!” So there is a little grace in there for a mama who loves a baby girl, and wants to be loved back.

Holiday Confusion. That's a wreath, not a flotation device.
Holiday Confusion. That’s a wreath, not a flotation device.
mommyhood, My Big Jesus

When He Misses Me

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*This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com *

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The other night, Hubby and I went out to his high school reunion. We got in late, were very tired, and looking forward to being able to sleep in a little bit (my early-rising family is in town and they tend to take the kids when they wake up, allowing for a few minutes of extra sleep in the mornings). However, I wake to cries from my son at 5:22 (yes, exactly that time) and trudge sleepily into his room to see what was the matter.

He was very upset, that much I could tell, but at 11 months, how much can he communicate with me? I just rubbed his back, hummed, and rocked in the chair, hoping he’d calm down and I could lay him down soon. He dozed off a few minutes later, but my attempt to lay him down was futile. Immediately his head popped up and his eyes searched the room for me. Resigned to a little while longer in the rocker instead of my bed, I grabbed my pillow and a few of his little blankets, snuggled down and covered us up as best I could.

As I rocked and hummed and rocked some more, it occurred to me that maybe he just missed me. That probably wasn’t what woke him up initially, but that’s why he wanted to snuggle (he’s usually way too busy for that) and that’s why he wouldn’t let me put him down.

You see, my family (my parents, siblings, grandmother, aunt, uncle and cousin) have all been in town for Thanksgiving. They’ve thrown off the groove (in a good way, I might add!) by changing diapers and giving snuggles and playing and babysitting, instead of the normal routine of just Hubby and me being around. J just felt like he wasn’t getting his normal amount of Mama Time and needed me to himself for a few minutes.

After we had dozed in that chair till about 8:00, my mom came in to make sure we were alright. She hadn’t wanted to disturb what she knew would be the sweetest snuggles I’d get for a while. 11-month-old boys are… indefatigable… and too busy getting into messes to snuggle their moms. Except when they know it’s been too long.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Raising a Daughter in a World of Mean Dudes

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This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com!

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This week, I came across an article about that guy – Julien Blanc – who teaches men how to be sexual predators. It scared the mess outta me. I’m talking terrified. Not because I think that one of those men is going to be messing with me. No. It scared me because I have a daughter. I’ve written about how tough I think it is to raise a daughter before, and unfortunately, it’s not getting any easier.

I have a laundry list of things I want my daughter to be. It does not include doctor, lawyer, CEO, president, or even famous humanitarian. The list does include, however, things like loves Jesus, is happy in her profession, does kind things for others, and knows that she’s beautiful in the eyes of the Father who created her.

You see, I want her to know her worth in her Creator. Everyone else’s opinions matter not. She is called perfect and beautiful by the One who created her as such. She doesn’t need any certain clothes, tons of makeup, and the approval of a boyfriend or best friend to make it so. Her unique qualities and abilities are gifts. It’s Hubby’s and my job to raise her to know that. In a world of plastic surgery, eating disorders, cyber bullying and domestic violence, I want to raise a woman confident in herself because she knows who she is.

There’s only one starting point – the Gospel.

I can’t do everything. I can’t force her to internalize every single characteristic and ideal I might nudge her way. But I can teach her the Truth. I can tell her about God and his amazing sacrificial love. I can model the Father’s love for us by loving her with unconditional love. I can provide opportunities for other like-minded souls to help reinforce these bits of Truth in her life. I can help her understand that knowing Jesus is the best and only thing she can do to truly know her worth and potential. I can start now – at two and a half years old.

My little girl is beautiful and smart. She’s as witty as a two year old can be, and already a ham for the camera. For real y’all – she basically only wears tutus (see above photo) and won’t leave the house without her fanciest shoes. I just want to make sure she knows she’s awesome and doesn’t need anyone’s approval for that piece of information to be true. She just needs to know Who created her, how He feels about her, and where He wants her to go. It’s like the cheesy song goes: she’s gonna do great things; I already know.

faith, food, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Mountains or Molehills?

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I don’t know if you know this about me, but I seriously love my family. Hubby and I have the best families on the planet. I’m sure yours is great, but… mine’s better.

Today, my sisters-in-law and I met our mother-in-law to plan out the holidays, everyone’s travel plans, and some dates we will all be together. Not only did we have a fun time at lunch, but decided to go shopping together! We then had so much fun shopping that when we needed to head home, we did so with the idea we’d get the brothers and our kids to have dinner together! So we packed up our families and met for dinner. Six adults, a toddler and three babies. It was a lot. We ate a lot. We spilled a lot. We laughed a lot. It was just a lot.

I had a choice at dinner tonight. I could have been stressed about the fact that in the first ten minutes, water, wine and green beans were all spilled. I could have been annoyed that J would only eat if he was sitting in my lap (aka if I was unable to eat). I could have been frustrated that right when I was able to eat a few bites, EK needed to go potty. But in fact, I chose fun. It was fun to pass the kids around the table, help ourselves to everyone else’s food, and make a big mess (for which we tipped generously, promise). I chose to be excited that my daughter told me she needed to go potty instead of peeing in her diaper! That was a miracle in itself!

When you have a choice between being frustrated, and giving in to the situation and making the best of it, making the right choice can be tough. I’m a high-strung person by nature (sorry, everyone) so I can make big deals out of basically anything. But it’s my constant goal – and sometimes struggle – to “Let It Go” (forgive the reference). I need lots of reminders, and I ask for a lot of help. My family bears with me in the midst of my sometimes-OCD. But I like myself more, and I’m sure everyone else does, too, if I can give in to the crazy and fun, instead of making a mountain out of a molehill.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

8 Things I Want My Non-Parent Friends to Know

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This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com along with tons of other awesome posts – check them out!

I have lots of non-parent friends. They’re great! I love spending time with them, although sometimes it seems that I don’t get to as often as I’d like. So, non-parents, here’s to you!

1. I still want to hang out. Yes, it might mean you come to me more often than I come to you. Yes, it might mean that I come with one or two little stowaways. Yes, it might take a little more planning. Yes, it might even mean that it’s cut short or cried out by a kid (with me or with someone else). But I still value our relationship. It looks different, but I don’t want it to end.

2. I can still be spontaneous. There’s the odd night that my kids are in bed early, and I am not tired. Yeah, I said it. Sometimes, I want to leave the house at 8:00pm and watch tv with you or catch a late dinner. Give me a break and meet me for a drink, already!

3. I didn’t stop being cool. I still like listening to good music, seeing good movies and eating good food. Why do you assume I only eat chicken nuggets while listening to Raffi?

4. I’m still a woman. Yes, “mommy” is one of my number one defining attributes. However, I’m a wife. I’m a friend. I’m a daughter. I’m a sister. Most of all, (GASP!) I’m a woman. I love wearing mascara, shopping for shoes, sipping lattes and (insert any other cliche about females here).

5. I don’t think less of you because you aren’t in my shoes. Just because you decided not to have kids, or haven’t found your soul mate doesn’t mean I think any less of you. I have friends in every stage of life; I haven’t limited my hangout group to “parents of young kids”.

6. I like to stay up late! I’m still a night owl; I can function on less sleep sometimes. I’m productive and happy at night after my kids go to bed, so call me up or come over for a chat! Don’t assume I crash at 7:30pm when my kids do, because that’s only sometimes true.

7. I love my kids, but I don’t mind leaving them sometimes. In fact, I think it’s healthy for me to have conversations with other adults, have a meal I don’t have to share, and to peepee in the potty without an audience.

8. I would love it if you hung out with my kids. They’re hilarious. I’m proud of them. I want to show them off in their best light, and I also want you to see their off days, so you have a real picture of who I am through these little lives I have created, shaped, loved and let go. Yeah, it might not be for you right now. It might not be for you ever. But being a parent is fun, crazy, hard and rewarding. It’s who I am. It’s the greatest gift God has ever given me, and I do my best to relish it and share it. Get to know my kids, and you get to know me.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Why does it always work out that way?

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As I type this, I’m sitting on my couch, listening to my son fuss. He should be asleep. It’s 7:50pm, and he’s been in the bed for half an hour. The first 20 minutes were silent – and now, as I’m trying to leave the house, he’s awake and fussing to get up and play. He had a big day full of family photos and playing hard. He needs to rest after the craziness of the day. This is the first night in weeks that he hasn’t gone to bed without any trouble. It’s also one of the first nights that I’m trying to go out to a birthday party that started at 7:00. Hubby is working, and my mom is keeping the kids. She and my daughter are happily watching a quick tv show before bed, and my mom simply requested that J be asleep before I left.

Or it should’ve been a simple request.

I’m dressed, purse and keys in hand, hoping this won’t take all night. I’m dying to see my friends while I’m wearing mascara and not wearing yoga pants. Plus, I don’t want to miss the cake – because there has to be cake, right? But here I am, held back by the quiet (getting quieter…) sounds of my still wakeful son. I’ve check on him several times – checking his diaper, patting his back, giving him smooches. And still he fights sleep.

I wonder how often God waits on us… fussing… whining… refusing to just rest. I wonder if He is sitting, on some heavenly leather sofa, waiting for us to come around to the thing we need the most. He’s probably not waiting so that He can go to a party, but waiting because He knows we will be happy when we finally get what we need – Him. When we rest in Him we are refreshed. We are rejuvenated. We are healthier and more whole. But we put up a fight, just like my son is doing now. We think we know what we want, but we forget to listen to the One who knows best.

faith, My Big Jesus

When it feels bad.

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

Why is my child crying? Because she wanted to get in the pool. And then she didn't anymore.
Why is my child crying? Because she wanted to get in the pool. And then she didn’t anymore.

Sometimes, I have a day that just goes wrong. The kids wake up WAY too early. I don’t have a minute to drink my coffee before it’s cold. J throws more of his breakfast on the floor than in his mouth. EK fights me putting on shoes for preschool (she wants the too-big dress-up ones). J goes down for his nap late, so I’m late picking EK up from preschool. No one wants the lunch I fixed for them. Hubby forgot to tell me he had plans all evening. Y’all know how it is. You feel like you’re trying, trying hard, at that. But then the more you try to fix things, the worse they get. Finally, you explode. Or you have a breakdown. Or both.

How about a few cliches you don’t want to hear: Don’t sweat the small stuff. You’ll look back on this and laugh. It always seems worse when you’re in the thick of it. Well, those don’t make anyone feel better. Why is it we always wait to ask for help till things are really bad? Why don’t I pray at the first sign of the day going awry, and ask for a change of heart?

Sometimes my pride, my desire for control in a situation prevents me from asking even the One who can help me most. I want to feel like I’m a great mom, so I try to do all the things myself. All. Of. The. Things. And then, when my healthy, baby-friendly muffins burn in the oven, my kids won’t go down for their naps, I miss my work out and we eat fast food for dinner, I feel like a failure. Not just any failure, an enormous failure, as a mom, as a wife, as the shadow of a normally happy, healthy, productive woman.

I forget to think about what went right. For instance, my kids are fed, clean and clothed, they’ve gotten to play and snuggle, and they’ve been loved on. Hubby came home safely, and kissed me when he walked in the door. I didn’t burn the house down and I even took a shower (am I right?!) so the day wasn’t a total waste.

Sometimes I also forget to give credit where it’s due, to thank Jesus for my family, our full (of chicken nuggets) bellies and smiling (from ridiculous exhaustion) faces, our home (a complete mess because we are so blessed with toys and time to play with them) and our love for each other. So I’ve made a resolution. Each day, I will give as many thanks as possible. I will intentionally thank the Lord for every single thing I can think of as I think of it. I will pray these things without ceasing. Gratitude can change a hard heart (guilty), change a sharp tongue (guilty again), and change an entire outlook from dim to bright. I will learn to rest in the gratitude for each blessing in my life. I will let my heart be changed.

faith, My Big Jesus

Your Mercies Are New Every Morning

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Fall has always felt like a new beginning for me. That’s partially because it’s been linked to the start of a new school year, but it’s also because of the change that happens. We move from hot and sunny and stifling and dry into a cooler, more pleasant few months. I don’t like frigid cold, but I appreciate the brisk, crisp fall air. I like sunny days that are also chilly. I like always having a warm drink in my biggest mug. I also like the layers and scarves and boots of my fall wardrobe. I digress.

Since it’s fall, and I am overcome with a feeling of fresh start, there’s a verse that has been on my heart recently. My women’s small group used it as their memory verse a couple of weeks ago.

Lamentations 3:22-23: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

His mercies are new every morning. How beautiful is that idea? Whatever you did yesterday, or didn’t do yesterday, you have a clean slate each morning. Bring your messes to The Lord and be redeemed, because He is bigger than your mess.

As an (extremely) imperfect woman, wife, mother, and friend, I find great joy in knowing that He has overcome my sins and my failures. His plan for me is bigger and better than the lunch date I forgot about, the laundry I didn’t do, and the unkind words I have spoken to Hubby. In I Peter we are reminded to love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins. I am thankful for a Father who loves me deeply and perfectly. I am thankful for perfect example of love to serve as a model for the love that I should give to others.