A Worthy Life

rest

It was to be an adventure to be remembered. We would never forget. At least until tomorrow. By then tomorrow would then be today and would have adventures aplenty of it's own. But today was still today and we had trees to climb, sword fights to be won, and imaginations to wander as far as their little feet could take them.

But today someone was tired. Too tired to climb or fight or wander. All she wanted was the warmth found cuddled inside her mama's jacket while tucked into her mama's snug embrace. A moment of snuggles and a few sways to this side and that and this little one was out. Off to an adventure of her own within the confines of her dreams.

I was tired too. Tired but determined not to be put out for the count just yet. So I lay my sleeping bundle underneath the canopy of roots provided by an overturned tree and set out for adventures my own. I would play the part of nurse for the injured, encourager for the loser and human gps for the lost.

Finally when all my adventurers are tucked in for the night and then again after a drink and another trip to the bathroom, I could have my rest. A few minutes to read, to pray, to converse with my husband. Resting in His promises, comforted by His goodness and expectant for the adventures of tomorrow, I am asleep.

the princess and the frog

It was the pre-dinner show. With the mantel serving as the temporary theater's marquee, we were treated to a surprise matinee of The Princess and the Frog.

She, the eldest, had designed the props and costumes and then enlisted the participation of her younger sister, a willing accomplice.

With paper crowns askew on their foreheads, they delighted us with their reenactment of the fabled tale.

The next day, it was to be my turn. Wanting to kill two birds with one stone, I donned my wedding dress which has been a frequent request of late. With jewel encrusted crown taped to my forehead, I took my seat atop my porcelain throne.

My froggy prince bent low on leaping legs and demonstrated his love for me by giving me every woman's desire, a pedicure.

We kissed. He transformed. And from that moment, we were in love forevermore!

{me}dia

It's a dead on impersonation of Beyonce's Single Ladies. She flips her hair and wiggles her ring finger while her face is all sass and serious attitude. "If you want it than you shoulda put a ring on it....UhuhohohohohUhuhohohohohUhuhOH...!!" She probably heard the song all of three times and yet the words sank deep into her cerebellum waiting to be conjured up again and again at the soonest silliest moment. 

The other one stumbled across a day time soap opera while searching for Treehouse, unattended and unauthorized to have the tv on. I came running when I heard the tell tale music that saunters into your ears to lure in your eyes, that soft melody that suggests an intimate and torrid scene. Her eyes were hooked and though they lingered only long enough for me to tear the remote from her frozen fingers, the images sank deep into her heart and affected her mind and body for months after. 

He can repeat back line for line almost an entire screenplay of his favorite cartoon movies. And no, you don't have to ask, he'll just offer them up when the moment fits or the timing is right. Whenever someone says "What was that?" you'll hear a full chorus of kids answering, "I think we just had an earthquake" line from the movie Nancy Drew. Or their latest, "Do you wanna stay for dinner? Do wanna stay FOREVER?!" gets an hour of giggles from them as they re-enact their favorite scenes from Mulan. All these words and dialogue taking up residence in their minds and ideas and attitudes being acted out as they mimic the examples they see.

Their days are full of sensory overload, whether during school or in play or by the examples of those they come into contact with. They are learning by osmosis, picking up on the culture and social norms by the influences that are allowed access to the gates of their minds and hearts.

And I, the familykeeper, stand guard, allowing or rejecting the influences that take up residence in our home.

While online, watching tv, or playing with their friends, I stand close by, watching and listening, instructing and protecting. Thinking it is only there, in the outside world, that the greatest evil influences reside.

Then, I observe her declaring with gruff disapproval, "Dang DON it!" An (almost) spot on imitation of someone else's blatant frustration. I overhear another bossing the younger unmercifully with the same tone I myself am apt to use. When I tell them not to yell at each other, their ready defense is, "But sometimes you yell at papa..." I see rooms littered with clothes and toys, remnants of fun but forgotten times abandoned for the next thing. Funny how my room looks the same.

As many parents do, I worry about the influence of the media and peers on my children. Yet statistics show that of all the influences in a child's life, none is greater than their parents. Dang DON it, don't I wish I could blame it all on the media?!

The show my kids are tuned into most is the Mommy Channel and they are watching, they are learning. Are all my lessons to them given from behind lipstick on a pig, an obvious hypocrisy and double standard? Does all I say merely drip with honey while my life displays a sticky mess?

Gilda Radner, America's comic sweetheart, tells a story of a pregnant dog who was run over by a lawnmower. She lost her two hind legs but her babies survived. The mama soon adjusted to life with only front paws and found a new way of walking by taking two steps followed by a hop from her backside. When her pups were old enough to walk, they did just fine, following their mother's example of a two-stepping-bum-hopping gait.

I am teaching my children to walk by my own walk.

Are they learning a confident gait along the straight path, one walked with perserverence and no compromise? Or, are they mimicing a walk that is random and sporadic, steady on good days and then occasionally scooting off to my own desires, hopping on and off the path when it suits my whims?

Be careful little eyes what you see, be careful little ears what you hear, be careful little hands what you do, be careful little feet where you go, be careful little mouth what you say. For littler eyes and ears and hands and feet and mouths will watch and overhear and mimic and accompany and repeat their precious mamas.

Be careful, little mama.

joy

I snuggled up close to her in my bed. I could feel her rhythmic breaths on my face smelling of sweet syrup, olfactive residue from a lunch of french toast. This girl makes me crazy with love. Her brilliant smile lights up a room and illuminates any momentary gray areas in my heart.

We named her Emmanuelle Joy. Emmanuelle because she was our promise and then our testimony to God being with us through a very difficult period in our lives. Joy because there was nothing else present in our hearts when we first laid eyes on her and our ears heard her cry of life.

As her mother, I remind her often: "Manu, what is your name?"

"Emmanuelle Joy."

"Then, where oh where is your joy?! Are you Manu Grumpy-pants or Emmanuelle Joy?"

Slowly, as the words sink past her stubborn insistence, a smile steals the grump from her face.

"Manu Joy!", she shouts with glee.

I think of the way her melodic baby voice sounds as I watch her silent lips, pursed in sleep. And I am grateful, so grateful that I am her mother.

What joy I've found in her!

watch and learn

He watches her every move. Watches where she places her feet, observes how she twists her legs, and commits to memory all the boarding vocab like ollies and half-pipes. He keeps his board close by during the day and tucks it close beside him at night. He wants to do what she can do. He wishes that what seemed so effortless to her came so naturally to him.

So he watches and learns.

This afternoon I spent time at the park with a group of friends celebrating one of their son's birthday. As often happens, the mothers' conversation soon turns to life, a mother's life, and where the twists and turns of parenting are taking us. I watch one mother as she gently interacts with her daughter, I observe how another speaks to her husband, and commit to memory the tricks and techniques of how each is perfecting her calling and profession. I realize that the benefits of being in community with other women, other mothers, other wives are numerous. I want my children to behave like hers do. I want my marriage to embody the same love and respect as hers does. I want to be inspired and challenged and encouraged.

So I watch and learn.

an extra/ordinary day

The day started like every other. No matter how hard I try to switch things up or be more disciplined, I am so not the kind of person who hits the ground running. Ever. So, the day continued like all the rest: I was slow to rise, lingered over a breakfast of cinnamon raisin french toast and berries while the kids amused themselves, and kept a running dialogue with myself on all the things there were to get done.

The list today wasn't long but everything on it was urgent. I needed to get passport photos and guarantor signatures for Emmanuelle so I could wait in the gosh-awful lines down at the passport office today. I totally forgot that we hadn't processed her application yet and we are leaving on vacation in 4 days!

I packed snacks, games, and markers to ensure that the kids were kept busy during the anticipated long time spent at the office. I went door to door asking friends to please, oh please be my daughter's guarantor! Finally, one agreed. ;o) We went downtown, walked up to a very empty office and were thrilled to be in and out in less than an hour. But while I processed everything with the agent, I had all four kids sit on the chairs and wait. Soon, they became the spectacle of the place!

Everyone was whispering to their neighbor and commenting on the unbelievable good behavior the kids were showing. People turned and marveled. Many approached me to tell me how amazed they were and all I could do was smile and shrug in amazement myself. The security agent at the door said he had never seen anything like this in all his life. I assured him it was the power of the Cheetos. He wasn't convinced. All right, all right, I fessed, it's the miracle drug I sprinkled on the Cheetos! He laughed but insisted that these were the most well behaved children he had ever seen! A momentary miracle to be sure but one that made this mama's heart swell with pride for her children!!

We stopped at the post office on the way home and were greeted at the door by a pharmacist offering to take special photos that could show sun damage. The kids were keen so we did it. They, of course, were damage free. Mama's on the other hand revealed what she always knew to be true, serious damage waiting to spring forth in premature aging. Yes, thank you for that!

I loved the kids' photos though! Since I'm 13% of this, a little bit of that, and a sprinkling of just about everything else with a strong line of nothing in my blood, I qualify as 100% American and the papa is 100% East Indian. We kid that our children are therefore 100% American Indian. But it was hilarious to see what they would look like if they were full blooded Indian, as shown on the right images! Jacob reminds me so much of the little boy in Slumdog Millionaire. ;o)

We all took a good nap in the afternoon and had a great evening of time spent in prayer with friends. Preparing for bedtime we looked out our window and noticed the luxury hotel near us shooting off a display of fireworks, which the kids took to be a private viewing for them alone.

It was just another ordinary day here in our household. But when the kids display behavior that you have worked so long to instill in them and you experience overwhelming hope and peace after giving all your worries, all your cares into the hands of Almighty God, you realize this day has been extraordinary indeed. The fireworks displayed just for me just about proves it!

a daughter's pain, a mother's agony

The girls and I tried another sewing project last week. One week ago today to be exact. I braided bits of fabric straps into headbands and, hoping to inspire creativity, was teaching the girls how to sew beads onto the band.

The only thing that really sank in was half of a sewing needle.

Right into the ball of Eden's foot. All I gotta say is, it wasn't my fault (though the X-ray technician cruelly implied that "next time mama should be more careful"...grrr). It was a looong needle and we found half of it, the other half was assumed lost.

The tears fell, oh how they fell! There was no blood, just a small dot at the point of entry. But what she lacked in spilled blood she made up for in spilled tears. For days on days. So after our holiday Monday I took her into the doctor where we received medicated cream to keep from infection and a x-ray requisition in case things didn't improve by Friday.

Friday revealed a needle still in her foot, poking painfully into her bone. We headed upstairs to see the doctor for swift removal.

Swift removal was taking it's holiday today so we went with the slow, painful removal. Eden became hysterical from the get go. I had all four kids in the procedure room and as her hysteria grew, so too did theirs. My tears began to flow as I saw the pain in their eyes, knowing their sister was suffering insufferable pain and knowing there was nothing they could do to help her.

A good 20 minutes of intense prodding did not reveal the needle so the option was put to us to go to the ER or keep trying. I could tell our Dr was unsure of her ability to quiet Eden enough to remove the needle but I knew that if we waited, the freezing would burn off and the agony would be repeated all over again. Eden screamed her preference, waiting until never, but I tried to comfort her that mama's decision was the best. When mama's decision means more pain and torture, it's impossibly difficult to understand mama's will.

I had another technician take the other kids out and a few more nurses and another doctor joined Eden and I. Eden screamed every time anyone entered the room and began to kick if we looked at her foot. The decision was made to wrap her in a blanket, straitjacket style.

Panic ensued but at least her foot was kept still long enough for the doctors to finally work the needle out.

But hearing Eden scream, "I can't breathe, I can't breathe!! Mama, they're hurting me, they're hurting me!! Mama, I NEED you, I NEED you, I NEED you!" was pure torture for me. Hearing that she NEEDED me to comfort her and all she could see was that I was choosing to keep her on the table and choosing pain for her. 

It was there on the table as I held my daughter pressed to my chest allowing pain and choosing not to leave the room while everyone else dealt with the issue that I heard God speaking quietly to me. "Now do you understand why you must trust Me when I allow pain and suffering in your life? Now do you see that even when you are experiencing indescribable turmoil and anguish that I am still right there in the room with you, that I will never leave you nor forsake you?"

I remembered too that His own Son had asked that His Father remove the cup of suffering from His life. Yet the Son profoundly understood that God's will would produce the very best outcome, not only for His life and ours but for the life of a mama who would one day need this example to supply courage in a garden of darkness of her own. 

God, you know Eliana. Eliana...GOD.

The day was beautiful and sunny, the warmth beckoned for us to come out under it's clear blue skies. School was finished for the morning, the house in order, and the picnic lunch packed. The kids were clean, hair was done, and devotions read. Everyone was assembled in the foyer awaiting the go ahead from mama to rush out onto the porch.

Everyone but Eliana. She was approaching me with a downcast face. I know my girl. The girl with the sensitive spirit, the girl full of life and exuberance but one easily affected by her conscience or internal struggle. I knew something was on her heart.

"Mama," she began almost whispering, "is it ok if I sometimes don't think I'm beautiful?"

Oh, the pangs in the mother's heart to see the inception of every woman's struggle in the heart of her baby girl. I quickly enveloped her into my arms and inquired of her thoughts. I shared with her all that I have told her before. Assuring her that she was a special edition, a one of a kind, with beauty and gifts uniquely blended to create the young lady that she was meant to be, I poured my words of love as salve on her wounded self perception. In a moment, she saw herself as beautiful again. Not as the most beautiful or perfectly flawless, but one with the knowledge that a smile within can stretch to illuminate even the dreariest of countenances.

And then we were off. Back on track with our plans, we headed to meet friends at the park.

After playing and eating for what seemed like hours, our friends invited Eliana and Eden over for an afternoon of play and they gleefully accepted. Anything to get out of nap/quiet time, which is where the rest of us were headed.

As I tucked Eliana in that night, I wanted to check in how she was thinking about her looks. Her eyes lit up as she shared with me a video she had watched at her friends' house. The story focused on Skeeter, a mosquito who always felt overshadowed by his brother who everyone admired. When comparing himself to his brother, he felt ugly and useless. With a squiggly nose, he felt marked with imperfections that left him without confidence. Later on in the story, Skeeter and his brother are on a quest for a treasure left to them by their Father. Skeeter's wings and squiggly nose literally prove to be the key to unlocking the treasure, without which it would have been impossible. A note inside from their Father reassured them that he loved them both the same even though they looked so different.

Growing more animated as she retold Skeeter's adventure, her eyes began to glow and I knew she knew how applicable this was to her own life. She understood that just like Skeeter she thought there were inadequacies in the way she was made. Now she could see that she too was created so uniquely that only time would tell how God's special plan for her life would unfold.

I told her that this, this simple video, was God speaking directly to her! On the very day she had this very struggle, God provided a way for her heart to be reminded that He had made her just the way He wanted. Perfect in it's imperfections. Beautiful in it's flaws. Unique in the way those imperfections and flaws would be used in ways she was only beginning to see and understand.

My joy was overflowing as I realized that this was perhaps the very first time that together we were aware that God was reaching out to Eliana personally. She believes the Truth that we as parents share with her about God but my prayer has always been that she experience it deeply and profoundly for herself.

Today, I believe she did that. For through a simple cartoon, she saw that it was her Father "who put (her) together inside (her) mother's body, and (she will) praise (Him) because of the wonderful way (He) created (her). Everything (God does) is marvelous! Of this (she'll) have no doubt." (Psalm 139:13-14)

Today she understood that while Mama is usually around to remind her of her beauty, the Truth in God's Words assures her that her Father agrees. His Voice, hidden within, is constant and if she only tunes herself to listen, she will find it all around everyday in the simplest of ways.

a mother's day

To be or not to be, that was always the question during those late teen years when you're trying to fill your schedule with courses that will prove beneficial down the road as you pursue your preferred degree. The problem for me was that there were just too many choices! There were so many things I liked to do, so many options that I would love to pursue. To spend four years localizing my education on one subject was too narrow a challenge for someone who had such broad interests.

I started to ask myself not only what I could do or even what do I enjoy doing, but what could I see myself doing every day for the rest of my life? I realized that a job becomes much more than your passion, it becomes a commitment. Day in and day out I had to be sure that I was going to want to wake each morning and go out and make a difference in my life's work. For me, I chose to pursue a safe choice in the medical field, though never quite certain of my calling to it.

Until I was called to the profession of motherhood. Staying at home with my children has afforded me the luxury of complete freedom to pursue as many different interests as time allows. Interests that challenge and inspire me as an individual in efforts that improve the lives of those within my family and those around me. I can paint, I can decorate, I can write, I can bake. I can run, I can teach, I can learn, I can invest. All in a day's work. I have been given the freedom to become a jack of all trades, devoted to one.

Life of a mother:

My academic pedigree doesn't include a masters in psychology but even I know how to utilize a couch for special mother/child counseling sessions.

I'll never find my figure on the cover of Shape but I feed my children the best mental and physical foods that will help shape healthy foundations for their minds, bodies, and souls.

You won't find my home within the pages of any magazine but I know how to make a house a beautiful and welcoming home with the resources I've been given.

I may not ever be crowned with photographic accolades and awards but I have been present to capture moments and memories that are treasured within our family albums.

My lifestyle isn't one of jetsetting all over the world with toddlers in tow but I'm privy to the magic that transforms any room into a castle or cave and any park into the best vacation spot on a Sunday afternoon.

Without the plumber's bu*t associated with the crack trade, I can fix a clogged sink and running toilet while keeping my pants hiked up.

My name will never, ever (ever!) appear above a dotted line on a recording contract but only my voice can soothe my child in the dark of the night.

I lack the skills to perform life saving surgery but I was the only one who made the choice to fight for the life of my own unborn child.

There hangs no degree of education on my walls but I know that the wisdom of my children hangs greatly on the influence and example of their mother.

Silver screens will never boast my involvement in any high grossing movie but my involvement with and the way I act before my children will pay huge dividends in the future. 

I possess no knowledge that will rescue our country from economic deficiency but I work hard and live within my means so that it is I and my husband who provides for the needs of our family.

I have as yet not figured out how to corner the markets so I can reap the biggest return but I have been given one corner in which to shine like no one else can.

I'm a jack of all trades, mastering in One; specializing in the calling of Mother.

b{you}ty

Designed.

Created.

In the molding process...

To my girls,

You watch me put my makeup on each morning with wonder in your eyes. You twirl my brush, you beg for some blush, and you do as I do. Occasionally you play with your own set of costume make up but I assure you that you look your most beautifulest with pure and naked skin.

But you wonder, if little girls have such natural beauty and don't need make up everyday, why do I? I chuckle because I know the terror I would be to the nice DHL man who drops off papa's packages and the shock that would appear on the face of your sweet swim teacher had I not taken this time to put my face on this morning. You assure me that you think I'm beautiful even without makeup on which is sweet of you because I know you do. It's just you thinking so doesn't make it so at my age. Yet you see the irony of me putting mine on and you prohibited from putting yours on every single day. And so you ask again, why do I? I search for the right words, words that will express you what true beauty is...

I want you to know that nothing you will put on your face will perfect you, you were designed to be perfect and beautiful just as you are. Your dimensions were custom made, no two people are cut from the same cloth. I want you to realize that every last nook and cranny of your body was created for a purpose. Everything about you is intentional. Your nose was made for smelling and for me to nuzzle. Your eyes were made so you could see the world and so the world, should they choose, can look back into your very depths, into the windows of your soul.

You were given your body to live life not so you could look good living it. So many girls around you will be obsessed with how they look and that will be the priority of their lives. I trust that you will be wiser, that you will understand that it is what you do with your life that has significance and how you look has very little worth. While those around you obsess about looking beautiful, I pray that you will be beautiful, that your heart and your passion for more than just yourself and what involves you will be evident in your confidence and your demeanor.

Be sure to thank God every day for the way he made you, brown eyes and strong legs, and for the things He allowed to be beauty marks on you, the scar near your nose and the ones on your wrists, because they are part of what makes you you and part of His story in you. You may seek to alter your hair color or decorate your face with color and sparkle but do so with moderation so you do not hide that which is completely and only yours. Use your strength to run and pursue health and mountaintops and obsess less about what you look like in shorts or to that boy that caught your eye.

Give special attention to what goes in your body, both food and what you feast your eyes on will be nourishment for your body and soul. Magazines will paint a false impression of what true beauty is so limit the junk that enters the gateways of your heart and mind. Look instead around you to examples of women that exude inner strength and true fortitude and find out what makes them firm. Their lessons and examples will prove far more enduring than any cream or exercise ever could. 

I smile as I gaze upon your long eyelashes and catch a glint of sunlight on your brilliant smile. I look at the way you flip your hair and roll your beautiful eyes and wiggle in your mocha skin and I sigh. You are and will be beautiful girls. But I wonder if you will know it. If you do, will you flaunt it and market yourself to reap attention? Or will you and yet it not phase you, what you are on the outside will only reflect what is becoming more beautiful on the inside. I see the signs of the times around us and I wonder, will you doubt that God made you just the way He wanted you to look? Will you be frantic about dieting and exercising and embellishing and bemoan every day the image you see in the mirror?

I cannot tell what the future holds for you or what you will grow to believe about yourself. I can only tell you the truth today, the truth about what beauty is. It is you, being you, with every asset that God has granted you. He began a good work and is even today molding you little by little into the very vessel He intends to create with every aspect of you, your mind and body and soul. Only you can b{you}tiful, utilizing the gifts and talents and physical vessel that God designed with great thought and intention. So as you grow and develop don't worry so much about the outside packaging because being beautiful starts on the inside.

As for me, these are lessons I am learning right along with you every step of the way. My morning makeup routine only has so much power to hide my imperfections and the march of time and gravity across my face. But I will not let my less than perfect face hide the rest of me in the shadows. Because God made me beautiful and He made me for a purpose and I will go and face each day with the confidence that I am be{you}tiful too!