Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Growing Season By Melodi Leih

Last fall, my family and I planted bulbs around our home for the first time. I anticipated their arrival all through the winter months. And sure enough, this spring, small green plants began to shoot up out of the ground, and shortly after, beautiful flowers bloomed. Such a fascinating process! It seems odd that something planted in the fall and cultivated through the freezing winter produces flowers in spring. 

And yet, I experience similar seasons in my mothering. In the winter of my soul, God feels distant and I am unfruitful. My kids seem more rowdy and my patience more thin. But as I consistently stay rooted in him, he continues to nurture the soil of my heart, bringing forth blossoms for others to see.

Sometimes it takes many cycles of winter to see new growth. And it can be hard to let go of the disappointment that arises when flowers don’t bloom. But that doesn’t mean God isn’t at work, cultivating me into the woman he wants me to be. Time spent on the floor in a pile of Legos or on the couch with books is an eternal investment that will bear long-term fruit. It may not seem like much now, but bulbs buried under winter’s barren landscape don’t look like much either. God will bless my faithfulness. He will bless yours. And our flowers will be beautiful—no doubt about it!

Dear God, remind me that you’re growing me everyday. Lend me your big-picture perspective as I mother my child.

Friday, June 17, 2011

God Of Sometimes

God of Sometimes
By Christa Hogan, mother of two

I love being a mom; I love caring for my family. I can’t think of anything more important, anything more worthy of my life. It feels good to be needed. Most of the time. But sometimes I wake up and think, “Do I really have to do yesterday all over again?” I want to shout, “Can’t you just do it yourself for once?” A voice whispers, “It’s all up to you. You don’t ever get to rest, because if you did this would all fall apart.”

Inevitably, these are also the days that someone comes down sick. The cat coughs up a hairball on the carpet. The dishwasher breaks. Life starts to resemble a country music song. “It isn’t fair,” I cry. “Life wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

Then I hear another voice calling. My Savior. My Rock. He asks me to stop squirming beneath the weight of my life and give it to him. He reminds me that I have been trying to do it all again, and to do it all by myself. But he made me to need him even more than my family needs me, except that he never rests. He never tires of being needed. He loves my “sometimes” when I come to the end of my rope because then I remember that I need to rely on him at all times.

Dear God, thank you that you are strong in my weakness. Forgive me for trying to do it on my own. Help me give my family and my life to you.