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March Break

It’s March Break and I’m slowly getting into the swing of things. Our school board decided to bless us with two weeks with the children and when I first saw that, I squawked and balked. Yes, the break backs into Easter weekend, and they have really only given us two extra days off, what with the Easter Friday and Monday, but after nine snow days as well, it’s all feeling rather busy around here.
“I’m bored Mom” I heard on the Monday (yes, the first day of the week), and I knew someone’s attitude had to change.
It turned out to be mine.

Did God give me children? Yes! Did I ever say during many long years of infertility “I will never be one of those Moms who can’t wait for the summer holidays to end?” Yes I did!
“I will treasure my children and not want to rush them off to school”, I wisely spouted.
Well I do love my children...truly, madly, deeply.
And I truly love their school, in an appreciative kind of way…in a longing sort of way.

However, what God really dropped into my heart today was a nugget out of Hannah Hurnard’s “Mountains of Spices” (the sequel to Hinds Feet on High Places). I love these books. They are dearly written, and rich in content. Gentle instructors to my character and relationships.
Here is a poem from Chapter 2 where Much Afraid learns about the fruit of Love.

Love is oneness-oh, how sweet
To obey this law,
The unlovely we may meet
Need our love the more.
Make us one, O love, we plead,
With men’s sorrow and their need.

We are one in needing love,
(Let us true love show)
Only love’s sun from above
Makes our spirits grow.
“Love us!” this is our heart’s need,
“Let us love”-and live indeed!

We are also one in this,
We must love or die,
Loving others is true bliss,
Self-love is a lie!
Love of self is inward strife,
Love turned outward is true life.

Let us love and fruitful be,
Love is God’s own breath,
Love will kindle love and see
New life born from death.
Nowhere is a heaven more sweet
Than where loving spirits meet.

The whole book is like this, full of allegories about pouring ourselves out and finding true life in so doing.
And it is true. As I stopped thinking about how busy things were, and started finding friends to play with, activities to engage in, the stress disappeared and the fun started.

When Frank came home, he dove right in (after a few minutes on the drums) and wrestled and steam rolled the kids until they screamed with laughter, then played hockey with them in the basement. I actually had a few minutes to breathe and clean up the kitchen and it was like I could hear the Holy Spirit whisper over me, “See, I know all your needs and how to meet them best. Trust me….”.

At bedtime I was laying down with Michael and he said “Daddy puggled me tonight”.
“What does puggle mean?” I whispered back. He snickered something in my ear about “When Daddy shoved me down on the couch in the hockey game, that was a puggle”. (All’s fair in hockey and war).
So I told him we’d have to make a new word for the dictionary and that is exactly what it would mean.

I love my kids. They are small, but very large blessings. Through them I am sanctified, if I will just let go of all my expectations and uptightnesses and really dig into the joy of just being their Mom, here in the March Break. It’s a time to play, kick back, break out of routine and enjoy each other.
I think I’ll do it……..we’re going to see pirates at Casa Loma on Thursday…I can’t wait.

Dear King Jesus,
Thank you for my children. Sometimes I feel puggled from all angles, yet when I look to You, and really look at my children, it's all good. This is what I most wanted to do with my life, was be a Mom and raise kids for You.
Thank You for this awesome privilege. Help me to remember when things get hectic; to love and pour out makes me richer than all the grasping at time for me ever can.
I love You.
Amen

Comments

Belinda said…
Dear Ang,
I'm sure that mothers everywhere are fighting this battle!

Thank you for finding time to write in the midst of your busy week, and for the glimpse into your home and heart, both of which are wonderful.

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