so about that village

in spite of being lodged deeply in the ego-centric teenage years, i still remember when hillary clinton brought the phrase, "it takes a village to raise a child" into the mainstream. sure, she didn't coin the term, nor was she solely responsible for its dissemination into pop culture, but i still think of her when that phrase is used. (note: this post is NOT about hillary clinton. at all.).  

this phrase was largely meaningless to me when i first heard it. sure, at that time in my life, i had the intellectual capability to discern its meaning and probably apply it to my own life. i could have rattled off several names of those playing significant roles in my upbringing. beyond that, however, it could not have had any real impact. 

it has been such a blessing to really begin to understand the weight of what that phrase implies in my role as a mother. the incredible responsibility and privilege of raising children is not one that was ever intended to be done alone. first and foremost, i think of the incredible partner i have in my husband. i truly believe there is no one better suited for raising our boys than he is. the role of the leader in the family is not insignificant. he provides for us through his hard work, but also cares for our spiritual, emotional, and physical well-being. he and i together make decisions about how to discipline our children. we pick up the slack when the other is exhausted and carry one another when we're both too tired to move. i can't imagine filling the role of mother without him filling the role of father. the two are simply inseparable. i know there are many tragic circumstances that make this impossible for some. i use the word 'tragic' because it is indeed a tragedy. any breakdown of the original intention god had for the family is tragic, whether it's thru divorce, death, or otherwise. i'm so thankful for the blessing of a good husband and father for my kids.

but the idea of "village" certainly implies more than just two. our kids have two great sets of grandparents and some aunts and an uncle that love them dearly. the hard part is we live so far away. so far. and while all these people are a part of our village, they provide a very different kind of support. for the first two years of our first son's life, we didn't live with any real sense of community. we were fairly new to a new city and neighborhood, and really struggled to find the kind of loving community we knew was possible. by god's grace only, we found a wonderful church and moved into the most amazing of neighborhoods. i remember as a child living in a neighborhood filled with other kids my age. we went to church with some and school with others. we always played together and some of my best memories from childhood involve those people. in our current neighborhood, we have no less than a dozen friends, many with small children. many of these families attend the same church we do. we enjoy meals together, care for one another's children, celebrate birthdays and holidays, and just do life together. it's no small thing to know that you can leave your children in the care of a friend and know they will be cared for in much the same way you would care for them yourself. the same standards of behavior will be expected from them and they will be held accountable for wrong actions. this is our village. for this period of our lives--however long it may be--these are the people who are helping us in the enormous task of raising our children. and we are (hopefully) helping with theirs. from tips on potty training and weaning from pacifiers, to swapping childcare and even sharing cold germs (ok, so it's not all glamorous)--we are all helping to carry one another along and provide encouragement for the journey. i'm so thankful for my village.

humbled by motherhood

i didn't have to think too hard to decide on a title for this blog. the last time i tried this blogging thing, it was during a really tough season of my life when we didn't know if we'd even be able to have children. it's evidence of god's blessing and provision that this next go 'round--this new season of being stretched and challenged and feeling so full to the brim that i have to write it all down so i don't forget anything--it is during the season of motherhood. both times, though, it has been so clear to me the lesson that i was meant to be learning through it, and the title has come quickly from that.

when i say that motherhood has been a humbling experience, i mean it in every respect. prior to the birth of my first child i was working as a social worker, responsible for coaching parents in the areas of discipline, child development, and basic child-rearing (yes, the girl without kids teaching parents--some twice my age--about raising their children). and i was a typical mid-20's individual who thought i'd figured it all out and had some kind of authority on the subject parenting. it's no wonder some of my clients didn't take me seriously! if there's one lesson i've had to learn, it's that my children (or anyone else's for that matter) are not a textbook and parenting is hard work! it's a process of learning and growing and trail and error. it's patience and persistence and success and failure. accepting i didn't know all there was to know was a hard pill to swallow. i still struggle with the need to look like i have it all together and have all the answers. but the truth is, many times i don't.

admitting i don't have all the answers has meant that i've had to be humbled in another way, too. i've had to learn to ask for help. oh wow, is that hard. for most of my life i have worked hard to be the person with the answers.  this was true in school, but even outside of school-in my personal and professional life-i have really enjoyed being the person who others could come to with their questions. but, you know, i have discovered this wonderful and amazing and beautiful thing in the act of asking for help. other moms are doing it too! in fact, we are all leaning on each other and learning from one another. sure, we are most closely learning about parenting with our spouses and the majority of the decisions and support comes from each other. but i have found this incredible network exists with other mothers. from the mundane to the major, it is such a blessing to be able to gain wisdom from other women who are walking the same journey of motherhood! some are a few steps ahead on the path and can pass along precious truths and bits of encouragement. and what a blessing to be able to share with another coming up behind and help lessen their load. parenting is hard enough. no need to reinvent the wheel.

of course, there's also the humility that comes with being utterly humiliated. and we've all been there. in my pre-child days, i swore i would never be the mother whose children made a scene. anywhere. it wasn't so much a judgment of the other parent as it was motivation for me to anticipate the problem and prevent it. but oh have i learned the hard way. all the discipline and planning and positive reinforcement (who am i kidding? outright bribery!) in the world can't mitigate the dreaded toddler meltdown. it's going to happen. i've been hit in the face while carrying a screaming 2 year-old from one place or another. i've collected items scattered on the floor in protest while in the checkout line (whoever decided all checkout lines needed candy CLEARLY didn't have children. am i right???). i've listened to the patronizing and probably well-intended parenting advice from non-parents and those who long ago forgot what it was like to have a toddler while trying to quietly escape from the scene of the latest tantrum. don't get me wrong, i'm certainly not excusing my child's behavior, nor does he get away with it. but sometimes i swear it would be less humiliating to walk around stark naked than to bring a toddler out in public!

my point in all this is to say that the honor and the privilege and the incredible responsibility of being a mother is not to be taken lightly. it is a wonderful thing to be humbled by motherhood.

a new perspective on christmas

this post has been on my heart and in my head for weeks. in the absence of another (more??) appropriate place to get it all down 'on paper', i'm going to start here. nothing like kicking things off with something heavy. hey, go big or go home, right?

i've been struck in the last two years how christmas has taken on a different level of meaning and significance. certainly, there is a greater responsibility and even a greater joy that has come with sharing all things christmas with my firstborn. even now, as my second child absorbs all the excitement and takes in all the sights and sounds of his first christmas, there's a renewed sense of wonder at the bigness of it all. we've started family traditions, some that honor our family heritage and others that create a sense of something that is "ours". this year our oldest is finally old enough to start hearing and appreciating the story of christmas, so we have taken advantage of the opportunity to relay the history of our "faith family" using nightly advent readings to trace the story of god's faithfulness to his people in sending jesus to earth. it is a blessing to be able to watch a child as he hears the story of jesus for the first time. deeper and richer than anything i've known. 

and yet, there's something else that has struck me, this year in particular. a character in the story that i have never really given much consideration to has become someone i feel so deeply connected to. mary. the mother of jesus. young and scared, yet chosen by god to carry the biggest and most significant gift this world has ever known or will ever again know. until recently, she was really only a character in the nativity on my mantle. her presence is noted several times through the life of jesus. his birth, his childhood days at the temple, in his early ministry days at the wedding at cana, and then of course at his death on the cross. but she was always to me just an extra in the cast of more important players. 

but something about motherhood has changed me. forever changed me. and in particular it has changed the way i wonder at the miracle of christmas. i heard a song about five years ago that puts words to this wonder. at the time it had little meaning to me, being that i was still 3 years away from motherhood myself. the song, 'here with us' is sung by joy williams (yes, of 'the civil wars' fame--). in her song, she marvels at the mystery and the majesty of christ--god become man. the same tiny hands on that christ babe were the ones that helped shaped the universe. his same infant eyes had seen the beginning of time. his sweet little ears had heard the songs of angels! but the part that gets me every single time is the last line in verse two. "...but still mary had to rock her her savior to sleep." her savior! fast forward five years and i now have two sweet little ones. my nights are disrupted often by the cries of one or the other. small hands reach out for me to hold them. tiny eyes and ears and everything is new. i hold my sweet babes and i just marvel that 2000 years ago mary held her sweet babe. she fed him and cared for him and loved him. but her baby was her savior. and my savior! my mind explodes at the thought of it. the humanity of christ feels so much more tangible and yet his divinity seems so much bigger too. on one hand it's like christmas takes on more of the physical. i know the anxious hope of pregnancy. i know the pains of childbirth. i know the joy of holding the child you've longed for and carried for so long. and yet, there's something so much bigger in all that mary experienced. her child: the son of god, savior of the world. "and mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart." (luke 2:19) a new mother. a sweet little infant. the host of heaven rejoicing. 

what a treasure. what a wonder.