Oh my. I thought two year old tantrums were hard. Imagine the full force of the two year old (and my two year olds were particularly forceful) combined with the bodily strength of a ten year old. And then you might understand my predicament. What makes it even more daunting is that these Hormones are only just beginning their locust-like ravages of my little boy's body. (Ok, so he's not actually 'little' anymore. In fact, he is almost as tall as me. But he is still my little boy.) We may well have another 8 years of this. And it may well become alot worse. Oh.
The Hormones, it seems, have well and truly arrived. Complete with mood swings, door slamming, huffing and sighing, comments about how uncool and embarrassing I am and aggression that has reached a new level. And he's only ten years old!
I do feel for Toby. Every stage he reaches that is new to him, is also new to us. Every boundary that he questions, we also have to question. Every tentative step he takes forward into the world on his own, is taken with my breath being held until his foot has landed safely back on the ground. Every change shocks me, as though the ground underneath is trembling and moving. Why does he cover up with a towel now? I'm his mummy, I changed his nappies! Why does he close his bedroom door and expect me to knock if I want to go in? Why does he suddenly seem to be hungry all the time? Why does he laugh at the scenes in films that I didn't think he understood? Why, suddenly, is a particular t shirt not acceptable to wear? Why does he want time alone, when for the last ten years I have been trying to teach him, unsuccessfuly, that it's ok to be on his own? All these things that I took for granted, are beginning to change.
And so, yet again the ground shifts and with it the boundaries move further. We need to recognise our boy is beginning, only beginning, his long journey from little boy to manhood. Is there any way I can prepare myself for the onslaught of the Hormones? I don't think so. Just as you can't prepare yourself for the sleep deprivation and the utterly exhilarating exhaustion of a newborn baby, I don't think I can prepare myself for the thrilling ride of the teenage years ahead. But they will come. And they will transform my boy into a man. Oh my.
Tuesday, 24 April 2012
Thursday, 19 April 2012
Morning Madness
Sometimes I wonder if I wasn't there to direct proceedings whether my boys would actually make it out of the house or not in the mornings. Clearly there are far more important and immediate needs than the boring old dressing, cleaning teeth and breakfasting. This morning is an excellent example of this fact.
The apparent joy of eating weetabix for breakfast is that you can stir it and mix it up into a pulp. This can last for at least 5 minutes before you actually put any in your mouth. Max mixed with full force this morning then, once pulped, he left it in front of him for another 5 minutes whilst trying to clasp his hands together 'inside out'. Once these important tasks had been completed, he was then able to begin eating.
After breakfast I had one of those highly successful pep talks with Toby. The kind of pep talk where they look above you, to the side of you and everywhere else but in your eyes. I asked Toby to try really hard not to distract Max from getting ready for school. Max has been trying so hard this week to be organised (except the breakfast pulping routine) without any reminders from me. Just when he worked out that maybe he needs to clean his teeth and entered the bathroom, Toby crept up behind him and roared loudly. So much for my pep talk. In the excitement of the moment, Max forgot what he was supposed to be doing and so we had to start all over again.
Jonah was dispatched upstairs to get dressed. This does not need to be a difficult task. His clothes are laid out for him. All he has to do is take off his pyjamas and put on his clothes. Simple. This 'simple' task proves far too boring and instead I hear non-getting-dressed shrieks and loud thuds as all three boys race around the upstairs of the house. It seems that Jonah has removed his bedtime pull-up (heavy and sodden) and is nakedly chasing the other two around, swinging it in their faces. He races down the stairs with a look of triumph on his face. He has now discovered a weapon that will beat his two big brothers.
Quickly disposing of the pull-up, I remind him that he is supposed to be getting dressed. Before putting on his clothes, however, there is another more interesting activity for him. Parading around the kitchen completely starkers, he chants "Look at my deadly 60 nipples!" over and over again. (Deadly 60, for those of you who are not aware, is a programme on CBBC about deadly animals and insects - my boys love it). By this point I am beginning to lose hope. I ignore his deadly 60 nipples and remind him yet again that he needs to get dressed. Eventually, when Toby goes outside to feed the chickens and leaves the back door wide open, Jonah whimpers about being cold and gets dressed.
There is nothing exceptional about this morning. That goal of leaving on time hangs in the air, until eventually when we do leave (after the shoes and coat putting on extravanganza - "Max, put your shoes on. Max, put your shoes on. Max, PUT YOUR SHOES ON!" and "No Jonah, you are a big boy now and I will not put your shoes on for you. No, I'm not going to because I know you can do it yourself. Oh, ok, I'll do one and you do one. Ok, I'll just do both.") the sigh of relief that exits my body must surely be audible by the whole town.
The apparent joy of eating weetabix for breakfast is that you can stir it and mix it up into a pulp. This can last for at least 5 minutes before you actually put any in your mouth. Max mixed with full force this morning then, once pulped, he left it in front of him for another 5 minutes whilst trying to clasp his hands together 'inside out'. Once these important tasks had been completed, he was then able to begin eating.
After breakfast I had one of those highly successful pep talks with Toby. The kind of pep talk where they look above you, to the side of you and everywhere else but in your eyes. I asked Toby to try really hard not to distract Max from getting ready for school. Max has been trying so hard this week to be organised (except the breakfast pulping routine) without any reminders from me. Just when he worked out that maybe he needs to clean his teeth and entered the bathroom, Toby crept up behind him and roared loudly. So much for my pep talk. In the excitement of the moment, Max forgot what he was supposed to be doing and so we had to start all over again.
Jonah was dispatched upstairs to get dressed. This does not need to be a difficult task. His clothes are laid out for him. All he has to do is take off his pyjamas and put on his clothes. Simple. This 'simple' task proves far too boring and instead I hear non-getting-dressed shrieks and loud thuds as all three boys race around the upstairs of the house. It seems that Jonah has removed his bedtime pull-up (heavy and sodden) and is nakedly chasing the other two around, swinging it in their faces. He races down the stairs with a look of triumph on his face. He has now discovered a weapon that will beat his two big brothers.
Quickly disposing of the pull-up, I remind him that he is supposed to be getting dressed. Before putting on his clothes, however, there is another more interesting activity for him. Parading around the kitchen completely starkers, he chants "Look at my deadly 60 nipples!" over and over again. (Deadly 60, for those of you who are not aware, is a programme on CBBC about deadly animals and insects - my boys love it). By this point I am beginning to lose hope. I ignore his deadly 60 nipples and remind him yet again that he needs to get dressed. Eventually, when Toby goes outside to feed the chickens and leaves the back door wide open, Jonah whimpers about being cold and gets dressed.
There is nothing exceptional about this morning. That goal of leaving on time hangs in the air, until eventually when we do leave (after the shoes and coat putting on extravanganza - "Max, put your shoes on. Max, put your shoes on. Max, PUT YOUR SHOES ON!" and "No Jonah, you are a big boy now and I will not put your shoes on for you. No, I'm not going to because I know you can do it yourself. Oh, ok, I'll do one and you do one. Ok, I'll just do both.") the sigh of relief that exits my body must surely be audible by the whole town.
Wednesday, 18 April 2012
Charts, Lists and Smug Mummy
Yesterday I came across a list on facebook of 50 things children should have done before they are aged 12. It was full of fun outdoor, but simple, activities like skimming stones, building a den, climbing a tree and rolling down a hill. And it made me feel oh so good! My boys have done most of those activities already and I could feel that "Smug Mummy, I've got it right" feeling creeping up on me. You know, the kind of feeling that lurks if yours is the baby that sleeps all night or you have children who eat everything put in front of them. Thankfully my boys keep me humble most of the time though, and before Smug Mummy could take up residence in my brain, they were punching each other and screaming nasty insults to each other.
It started a train of thoughts in my mind though about those kinds of lists. Sometimes they make you feel like the best mother in the world, but sometimes they leave a nasty taste in your mouth and you have to resist the temptation to google all those milestones your child has not achieved and what syndrome they might consequently have. I know that I have given into that temptation far too many times and have convinced myself that my boys have all kinds of ridiculous syndromes. Surely I'm not the only one... I have slowly learnt to avoid those lists.
Every child is unique. Every child is beautiful in his or her own way. There is no such thing as a 'textbook' baby or child. Usually we say 'textbook' when we mean 'easy'. Does that mean the more difficult children are not 'textbook', 'normal' or acceptable? Does it mean that our child is deficient in some way if a chart says he should be able to tie his own shoelaces by the age of 7? Does it mean our child is abnormal if they are still in nappies at 3 when all their friends were potty trained by 18 months (and I have to say I CANNOT stand the potty training race)? What does it say about our parenting? Are we not pushy enough? Too pushy?
These lists and charts are not for our beautiful children. Our children develop in their own time. They have character traits, skills and idiosyncracies that are not even recognised by the milestone charts.
Our children are not for boxing up. They don't fit the perfect shape the world wants them to be. They are who they are. We should be celebrating their differences not trying to squeeze them all into the same hole.
As for Smug Mummy, she doesn't make much of an appearance these days thanks to the muddy footprints on the carpet, the throwing of food, the rude words, the fighting over the same spot on the sofa, the tweenage strops and the two-second teeth cleaning attempts. I muddle through and hope that one day I might be able to be Smug Grandma....
It started a train of thoughts in my mind though about those kinds of lists. Sometimes they make you feel like the best mother in the world, but sometimes they leave a nasty taste in your mouth and you have to resist the temptation to google all those milestones your child has not achieved and what syndrome they might consequently have. I know that I have given into that temptation far too many times and have convinced myself that my boys have all kinds of ridiculous syndromes. Surely I'm not the only one... I have slowly learnt to avoid those lists.
Every child is unique. Every child is beautiful in his or her own way. There is no such thing as a 'textbook' baby or child. Usually we say 'textbook' when we mean 'easy'. Does that mean the more difficult children are not 'textbook', 'normal' or acceptable? Does it mean that our child is deficient in some way if a chart says he should be able to tie his own shoelaces by the age of 7? Does it mean our child is abnormal if they are still in nappies at 3 when all their friends were potty trained by 18 months (and I have to say I CANNOT stand the potty training race)? What does it say about our parenting? Are we not pushy enough? Too pushy?
These lists and charts are not for our beautiful children. Our children develop in their own time. They have character traits, skills and idiosyncracies that are not even recognised by the milestone charts.
Our children are not for boxing up. They don't fit the perfect shape the world wants them to be. They are who they are. We should be celebrating their differences not trying to squeeze them all into the same hole.
As for Smug Mummy, she doesn't make much of an appearance these days thanks to the muddy footprints on the carpet, the throwing of food, the rude words, the fighting over the same spot on the sofa, the tweenage strops and the two-second teeth cleaning attempts. I muddle through and hope that one day I might be able to be Smug Grandma....
Wednesday, 4 April 2012
Bad Mother Day
Oh yes, the Bad Mother Day has reared it's ugly head yet again. Don't be fooled into thinking that I haven't had one since the last post. Some are worse than others, and some are so bad that one day I think I will look back and laugh at them. One day. Not today though. Today has been full of cold, sleety rain, high winds (and not just inside the house) and miserable grey skies. Not a good day for getting them out and about. So here are some of my bad mother moments from today.
1. When the day began, my positive attitude was still in tact and I suggested we make a lego "Easter Story" to take photographs of and write out the story. Unfortunately, I attempted to persuade them to do it without me. The first mistake. Jonah kept stealing the required lego pieces. Max kept losing the required lego pieces and Toby kept shouting at them both for said stealing and losing. Instead of intervening, I left them to it. Needless to say, it ended without much of the story having been photographed.
2. I am continuing my school holiday rule of no screens between 10am and 4pm. Today, I regretted it and was sorely tempted (but did not give in.... I must not give in, I must not give in, I must not give in...). Sometimes I wonder why I make up such ridiculous rules.
3. While Toby went to a party, I decided to make Easter 'nest' cakes with Max and Jonah. You see, the creative thoughts are all there, it's just the putting them into practice that proves a little tricky. It was all going swimmingly until the shredded wheats became too shredded and Jonah decided to litter the floor with them. Then in the process of sorting out the shredded wheats, I burnt the melted chocolate. We tried, we failed, but they enjoyed it. The nests resembled spiky hedgehogs with mini eggs stuck on top, but the boys were pleased with them.
4. By the time lunch arrived, I was beyond caring. I served hot cross buns with nest cakes for pudding. No salad. No vegetables. No fruit. 5 a day?! Ha! We laugh in the face of 5 a day! (Actually we don't, I have been known to obsessively count their "5" but sometimes, on days like today, it just can't be done.)
5. The afternoon was spent happily chatting to my sister, whilst being interrupted every few minutes by boys with lightsabres and darth vader helmets. The car journey on the way home proved more difficult with pens and paper being thrown all over the car and silly arguing taking place. I shouted. Loudly. It only took one word though "SILENCE!" We continued home in blissful silence.
6. For tea, I did actually give them 2 of their 5. Two is better than nothing, I thought to myself. Maybe I'm not having such a bad mother day after all. It all went wrong though when they asked what was for pudding. I brought out those awful nest cakes and they happily munched their way through one each. Then, they asked if they could have more. My reply? I shrugged my shoulders at them and said "Have as many as you like!" Jared sniggered to himself and the boys shouted with glee, "What, can we eat all of them?" "If you can eat all of them", I replied and left the table so I couldn't see the fruits (or non-fruits) of my bad parenting. With huge grins, they set themselves the challenge of the 'all you can eat nest cakes competition'. As far as I am aware, Toby and Max managed 5 and Jonah managed 4. The sick bowls will be on stand by this evening.
I am very much hoping that tomorrow it will not be so cold and miserable outside so we can go for a good fresh air trip somewhere. They need to run off energy. Especially after eating all those cakes.
1. When the day began, my positive attitude was still in tact and I suggested we make a lego "Easter Story" to take photographs of and write out the story. Unfortunately, I attempted to persuade them to do it without me. The first mistake. Jonah kept stealing the required lego pieces. Max kept losing the required lego pieces and Toby kept shouting at them both for said stealing and losing. Instead of intervening, I left them to it. Needless to say, it ended without much of the story having been photographed.
2. I am continuing my school holiday rule of no screens between 10am and 4pm. Today, I regretted it and was sorely tempted (but did not give in.... I must not give in, I must not give in, I must not give in...). Sometimes I wonder why I make up such ridiculous rules.
3. While Toby went to a party, I decided to make Easter 'nest' cakes with Max and Jonah. You see, the creative thoughts are all there, it's just the putting them into practice that proves a little tricky. It was all going swimmingly until the shredded wheats became too shredded and Jonah decided to litter the floor with them. Then in the process of sorting out the shredded wheats, I burnt the melted chocolate. We tried, we failed, but they enjoyed it. The nests resembled spiky hedgehogs with mini eggs stuck on top, but the boys were pleased with them.
4. By the time lunch arrived, I was beyond caring. I served hot cross buns with nest cakes for pudding. No salad. No vegetables. No fruit. 5 a day?! Ha! We laugh in the face of 5 a day! (Actually we don't, I have been known to obsessively count their "5" but sometimes, on days like today, it just can't be done.)
5. The afternoon was spent happily chatting to my sister, whilst being interrupted every few minutes by boys with lightsabres and darth vader helmets. The car journey on the way home proved more difficult with pens and paper being thrown all over the car and silly arguing taking place. I shouted. Loudly. It only took one word though "SILENCE!" We continued home in blissful silence.
6. For tea, I did actually give them 2 of their 5. Two is better than nothing, I thought to myself. Maybe I'm not having such a bad mother day after all. It all went wrong though when they asked what was for pudding. I brought out those awful nest cakes and they happily munched their way through one each. Then, they asked if they could have more. My reply? I shrugged my shoulders at them and said "Have as many as you like!" Jared sniggered to himself and the boys shouted with glee, "What, can we eat all of them?" "If you can eat all of them", I replied and left the table so I couldn't see the fruits (or non-fruits) of my bad parenting. With huge grins, they set themselves the challenge of the 'all you can eat nest cakes competition'. As far as I am aware, Toby and Max managed 5 and Jonah managed 4. The sick bowls will be on stand by this evening.
I am very much hoping that tomorrow it will not be so cold and miserable outside so we can go for a good fresh air trip somewhere. They need to run off energy. Especially after eating all those cakes.
Sunday, 18 March 2012
Mother's Day
Is it only in the television programmes and films where the mum has a peaceful day filled with presents and well behaved, loving children? It's certainly not in my house.
The day began well with a lie in, of sorts, and a cup of tea in bed. Then the noise arrived and I was ambushed with boys fighting to be the first to cuddle me and give me their own card. I tried to be as equal in my thankfulness to each one of them as I could, but it became hard to be heard over the shouting that was going on from one side of the bed to the other. "I want to sit next to Mummy!" "No, I was there first!" I laughed at their funny ways and told them all to go and play.
Lunchtime arrived. Yesterday they had gone shopping to buy me a nice lunch. I expected a lovely roast....but was given a plateful of pizza. Obviously their tastes are rather different to mine.
After lunch the fighting began yet again. This time my 'laughing at their funny ways mood' had worn off. In a desperate attempt to make them think positively I sent Toby and Max to their bedrooms to write two lists:
1. Write down all the things you love about your brother.
2. Write down ideas that will help you to stop fighting.
They skipped off upstairs and I heard alot of sniggering and giggling. After ten minutes, Toby presented me with his list:
1. I love my brother because we usually like the same things, like the way we hate this stupid idea.
Hmmm. At least they were working together, even if it wasn't quite what I had in mind.
Toby leapt back up the stairs, two at a time, and it wasn't long before the crying began again. This time it was Max and Jonah. Seperating them into their own bedrooms, Jared attempted to referee the war.
Now, from my quiet, peaceful sofa, I can hear wailing and howling emanating from various rooms upstairs. I am trying to keep remembering all the good and rewarding things about being a mummy, but they are somehow being squashed out by all the shouting and arguing. Perhaps when I am old and grey, and a Grandma, I might look back and forget about these times. Maybe it won't even take that long - maybe when I have teenagers who sleep for half the morning and can be civil to each other, I might forget these times. I might remember Mother's Day as a perfect day full of sunshine, laughter and happiness. I'm not banking on it - I think these days of warfare will be marked on me like a brand stamped on a slave, burnt and sealed onto my memories with hot, painful wax.
On that delightful note, all that is left for me to say is Happy Mother's Day everyone!
The day began well with a lie in, of sorts, and a cup of tea in bed. Then the noise arrived and I was ambushed with boys fighting to be the first to cuddle me and give me their own card. I tried to be as equal in my thankfulness to each one of them as I could, but it became hard to be heard over the shouting that was going on from one side of the bed to the other. "I want to sit next to Mummy!" "No, I was there first!" I laughed at their funny ways and told them all to go and play.
Lunchtime arrived. Yesterday they had gone shopping to buy me a nice lunch. I expected a lovely roast....but was given a plateful of pizza. Obviously their tastes are rather different to mine.
After lunch the fighting began yet again. This time my 'laughing at their funny ways mood' had worn off. In a desperate attempt to make them think positively I sent Toby and Max to their bedrooms to write two lists:
1. Write down all the things you love about your brother.
2. Write down ideas that will help you to stop fighting.
They skipped off upstairs and I heard alot of sniggering and giggling. After ten minutes, Toby presented me with his list:
1. I love my brother because we usually like the same things, like the way we hate this stupid idea.
Hmmm. At least they were working together, even if it wasn't quite what I had in mind.
Toby leapt back up the stairs, two at a time, and it wasn't long before the crying began again. This time it was Max and Jonah. Seperating them into their own bedrooms, Jared attempted to referee the war.
Now, from my quiet, peaceful sofa, I can hear wailing and howling emanating from various rooms upstairs. I am trying to keep remembering all the good and rewarding things about being a mummy, but they are somehow being squashed out by all the shouting and arguing. Perhaps when I am old and grey, and a Grandma, I might look back and forget about these times. Maybe it won't even take that long - maybe when I have teenagers who sleep for half the morning and can be civil to each other, I might forget these times. I might remember Mother's Day as a perfect day full of sunshine, laughter and happiness. I'm not banking on it - I think these days of warfare will be marked on me like a brand stamped on a slave, burnt and sealed onto my memories with hot, painful wax.
On that delightful note, all that is left for me to say is Happy Mother's Day everyone!
Thursday, 8 March 2012
The Story So Far...
Disclaimer
I am aware that some people who read my blog do not have the same beliefs as me. I am also aware that by writing my (sometimes opinionated) beliefs on this blog these people may view me differently. I hope, however, that those who know me will realise that despite my rantings and ravings, I am simply a normal wife, mummy, woman, daughter, sister and friend attempting to live out my beliefs in a world that often thinks the opposite. I still laugh (but not at the rude mealtime jokes) and I still have fun.... If you take offence to anything written in this post, I am truly sorry, but I will not be able to alter the things I see as absolute truth (and I will still be your friend, if you'll be mine!!).
So, with all that said, I am now going to tell you a story.
Almost three years ago, my husband had a dream. I am married to a dreamer and so I have to admit to not taking alot of notice. In the 13 years we have been married he has wanted to be a Preacher (aka Benny Hinn style, for those of you in the know), an A&E consultant, a teacher, a paramedic, a hotel consultant, set up his own soft play business and many many more. So, as you can see I was not so impressed. However, as the year went on this dream became more and more 'urgent' in his mind. The longing to be outside and make it accessible for others became more than a dream. Was this really right? How would the 'breadwinner' of the family be able to give everything up to follow this dream? Was it the right path for us or was it just another good idea?
When he was asking God all these questions, he happened to go to a conference with lots of other christians. One morning a man he did not know, walked up to him and said these words:
"I was praying this morning and God showed me that there would be someone standing where you are, with a green t shirt on." (Jared was wearing a green t shirt). "God says to tell you that what you have on your heart to do is the right thing, and you should go for it."
Well, it wasn't quite writing in the sky but it was good enough for us! And so, go for it we have. There have, of course, been ups and downs and I would not be honest if I did not tell you that there have been plenty of times when I have wondered if we are doing the right thing or not. Should we really be taking our family on this adventure with us or do they just need security? But each time I have wobbled, I have been reminded that my security is not in money or in Jared's job, but in my God. We are on this journey of trust as a whole family, and as we as parents trust our God, then our boys also see there is no better way.
This morning, I looked back in my prayer journal to see what was on my mind a year ago. Most people pray out loud, but I prefer to write down my prayers as though I am writing a letter to God. It's just the way I do it. Anyway, exactly one year ago today, in confusion and desperation, I wrote these words:
"Please make a way for Jared to give up his job so he can really focus more on the business. We totally trust you and trust your ways which are so much higher than ours. Guide us to the right people and places. Walk this road with us, for without you we are nothing."
We had no idea how to make this thing work. Jared couldn't just give up his job, that would not be wise. So, we put the situation into the hands of the One who already knew.
Today, a year later, we are 3 weeks away from Jared giving up his full time job. The timing has been more than perfect. His boss has been encouraging, helpful and positive and has even created a part time role for Jared to do so that he can continue to have a steady (albeit dramatically decreased!) income. He has another day's work each week with Rock UK, an outdoor adventure company and he has a day's work each week teaching Forest School. I am astounded at the way all of this has fit together so perfectly and when I wobble and fear, I am brought back to this truth. My God is faithful. He provides for us. He knows the unknown and he has a plan. His plan is so much better than ours. Even though times are sometimes hard, dark and we can't see the road ahead, he is so good. Despite the fact that he is awesome, mighty, powerful and the creator of the whole universe, he listens to us and even answers us. Compared to his greatness, our needs and wants sometimes seems trivial and yet he still gives us such good things.
Our lives as we have known them for so long are about to change and, whilst it's scary and nerve-wracking sometimes, being on an adventure with God is the only place I want to be right now.
I am aware that some people who read my blog do not have the same beliefs as me. I am also aware that by writing my (sometimes opinionated) beliefs on this blog these people may view me differently. I hope, however, that those who know me will realise that despite my rantings and ravings, I am simply a normal wife, mummy, woman, daughter, sister and friend attempting to live out my beliefs in a world that often thinks the opposite. I still laugh (but not at the rude mealtime jokes) and I still have fun.... If you take offence to anything written in this post, I am truly sorry, but I will not be able to alter the things I see as absolute truth (and I will still be your friend, if you'll be mine!!).
So, with all that said, I am now going to tell you a story.
Almost three years ago, my husband had a dream. I am married to a dreamer and so I have to admit to not taking alot of notice. In the 13 years we have been married he has wanted to be a Preacher (aka Benny Hinn style, for those of you in the know), an A&E consultant, a teacher, a paramedic, a hotel consultant, set up his own soft play business and many many more. So, as you can see I was not so impressed. However, as the year went on this dream became more and more 'urgent' in his mind. The longing to be outside and make it accessible for others became more than a dream. Was this really right? How would the 'breadwinner' of the family be able to give everything up to follow this dream? Was it the right path for us or was it just another good idea?
When he was asking God all these questions, he happened to go to a conference with lots of other christians. One morning a man he did not know, walked up to him and said these words:
"I was praying this morning and God showed me that there would be someone standing where you are, with a green t shirt on." (Jared was wearing a green t shirt). "God says to tell you that what you have on your heart to do is the right thing, and you should go for it."
Well, it wasn't quite writing in the sky but it was good enough for us! And so, go for it we have. There have, of course, been ups and downs and I would not be honest if I did not tell you that there have been plenty of times when I have wondered if we are doing the right thing or not. Should we really be taking our family on this adventure with us or do they just need security? But each time I have wobbled, I have been reminded that my security is not in money or in Jared's job, but in my God. We are on this journey of trust as a whole family, and as we as parents trust our God, then our boys also see there is no better way.
This morning, I looked back in my prayer journal to see what was on my mind a year ago. Most people pray out loud, but I prefer to write down my prayers as though I am writing a letter to God. It's just the way I do it. Anyway, exactly one year ago today, in confusion and desperation, I wrote these words:
"Please make a way for Jared to give up his job so he can really focus more on the business. We totally trust you and trust your ways which are so much higher than ours. Guide us to the right people and places. Walk this road with us, for without you we are nothing."
We had no idea how to make this thing work. Jared couldn't just give up his job, that would not be wise. So, we put the situation into the hands of the One who already knew.
Today, a year later, we are 3 weeks away from Jared giving up his full time job. The timing has been more than perfect. His boss has been encouraging, helpful and positive and has even created a part time role for Jared to do so that he can continue to have a steady (albeit dramatically decreased!) income. He has another day's work each week with Rock UK, an outdoor adventure company and he has a day's work each week teaching Forest School. I am astounded at the way all of this has fit together so perfectly and when I wobble and fear, I am brought back to this truth. My God is faithful. He provides for us. He knows the unknown and he has a plan. His plan is so much better than ours. Even though times are sometimes hard, dark and we can't see the road ahead, he is so good. Despite the fact that he is awesome, mighty, powerful and the creator of the whole universe, he listens to us and even answers us. Compared to his greatness, our needs and wants sometimes seems trivial and yet he still gives us such good things.
Our lives as we have known them for so long are about to change and, whilst it's scary and nerve-wracking sometimes, being on an adventure with God is the only place I want to be right now.
Friday, 2 March 2012
It's the small things...
Inspired by the facebook musings of a friend, I have been thinking recently about the little things in life that bring me pleasure. Being a 'glass half empty' person, this has been quite a revelation for me and I have had to train my mind to find the joy in small things, but find them I have. Here is my list (and if this was about my husband, just the list itself would bring much pleasure to his order-loving mind) of the small but precious things that bring a smile to my face:
1. The first time the sun warms my face after a long, cold winter.
2. Watching my boys, curled up on the sofa, noses into their favourite books.
3. The colour of Autumn.
4. Listening to children (any) singing (not the rude songs, the nice ones).
5. Discovering notes from my boys telling me that they love me.
6. Checking the boys last thing at night, listening to their peaceful snoring and watching their sleep-relaxed beautiful faces.
7. The warmth of a fire after a chilly winter's walk.
8. Seeing the suns rays piercing through the trees.
9. Holding my husband's hand.
10. Warm summer evenings, watching the sun set.
11. Escaping into a good book.
12. Dancing round the kitchen to my favourite 'teenage days' tunes.
13. A delicous meal, cooked by someone else.
14. Clambering into a bed with clean sheets.
15. Fun evenings with friends who make me laugh.
16. Watching my washing drying in the sunshine.
17. Seeing empty plates and satisfied boys after a meal.
18. Listening to the rain on the outside of a tent (not the inside - that is far from pleasant) while I am tucked up in my sleeping bag, warm and cosy.
19. Spring flowers - especially tulips.
20. A barefoot walk along the beach, feeling the sand between my toes.
I am sure there are plenty more to add to the list. It's so easy to get bogged down by the humdrum of life and not remember the things that bring us joy. Despite all the difficulties (and there are quite alot at the moment), I want to lift up my eyes and see some of the good. I want to slowly change my perspective and be grateful for the things I have. How about you? What brings joy to you?
1. The first time the sun warms my face after a long, cold winter.
2. Watching my boys, curled up on the sofa, noses into their favourite books.
3. The colour of Autumn.
4. Listening to children (any) singing (not the rude songs, the nice ones).
5. Discovering notes from my boys telling me that they love me.
6. Checking the boys last thing at night, listening to their peaceful snoring and watching their sleep-relaxed beautiful faces.
7. The warmth of a fire after a chilly winter's walk.
8. Seeing the suns rays piercing through the trees.
9. Holding my husband's hand.
10. Warm summer evenings, watching the sun set.
11. Escaping into a good book.
12. Dancing round the kitchen to my favourite 'teenage days' tunes.
13. A delicous meal, cooked by someone else.
14. Clambering into a bed with clean sheets.
15. Fun evenings with friends who make me laugh.
16. Watching my washing drying in the sunshine.
17. Seeing empty plates and satisfied boys after a meal.
18. Listening to the rain on the outside of a tent (not the inside - that is far from pleasant) while I am tucked up in my sleeping bag, warm and cosy.
19. Spring flowers - especially tulips.
20. A barefoot walk along the beach, feeling the sand between my toes.
I am sure there are plenty more to add to the list. It's so easy to get bogged down by the humdrum of life and not remember the things that bring us joy. Despite all the difficulties (and there are quite alot at the moment), I want to lift up my eyes and see some of the good. I want to slowly change my perspective and be grateful for the things I have. How about you? What brings joy to you?
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