Monday, May 18, 2015

The Verse

     When our oldest son had just got a good grip on reading he could be found with his nose in a history book or the Bible. He didn't care much for fiction books even though we had shelves filled with books I had hoped he would enjoy someday.
     When he was eight we got him his first quality Bible and he was thrilled. For the next several months when ever someone stopped by our house he would wait for an opportunity and proudly show them his Bible, and then read his favorite verse to them. Proverbs 7:27 Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death.
      The first time he read that verse to someone I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. When it didn't I simply pasted a weak smile to my face and managed to steer the conversation to more pleasant paths.
      I wrestled with what I should do. How do I tell my son not to have that as his favorite verse, and why did he choose that one to begin with? I decided not to address the specific verse and instead try to get him to appreciate some more appropriate verses as his favorite. I didn't want to in anyway put the thought into his head that part of the Bible is not good.
      Fast forward seven years. He still loves reading his Bible, and last night when Mr. Pepper and I were heading to bed I paused for a moment outside our boys bedroom door where I listened to our fifteen year old son read a few chapters of the Bible to our three year old son, and then explaining what he had read. I had to blink back tears of joy as I heard our three year old say, "More, read more!" when his brother announced it's time to go to sleep.
     Seeing them love God's Word makes this Mama's heart glad. And so happy that I didn't squash his love of the Bible back when the verse he loved most embarrassed me to no end.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

To My Children

     One of the things I always made sure to buy when I found out I was expecting you was a beautiful baby book. I had these great intentions of recording all your important milestones, all those fun firsts, all those little details I wanted to remember, always.

     I'm sorry to say I have failed you miserably.
     With you, my dear oldest son, I did the best. I completed most of your first year, but the rest of your book is blank.
     With each of the rest of you, I took great care in filling out everything I could those first few weeks, but after that the pages remain blank.
      The pages of your books aren't blank because I wasn't proud of you, or didn't love you, or wasn't rejoicing and enjoying each of those precious firsts and important milestones.
      I might not remember which tooth you got first, but I do remember your first word. "Papa!" I was the one that birthed you, nursed you, changed 95% of your diapers, and all four of you said Papa as your first word.
      I don't remember the day you enjoyed your first solid food, but I remember how you used to love when I brought out your little baby food grinder and how you used to sit watching me prepare it, waving your arms and kicking those little feet of yours in eager anticipation of the yummy food you were about to get.
     I don't remember the day you were weaned, but I remember how you used to tuck your foot under my chin and held the corner of your blanket as I fed you.
     I might not remember the exact moment of your first smile or laugh, but I do remember how you used to giggle when we played Peek-a-boo with you for what felt like hours on end.
     I might not remember the first book I ever read to you, but all four of you loved the Clap Your Hands book. Both your Papa and I can still recite the entire thing by heart because we read it to you so often.
    The pages of your baby books might be mostly blank, but my mind is filled with precious memories from those days. I was so busy enjoying those moments I didn't have time to pick up a pen and write them down at the risk of missing part of those moments.
    I hope someday you will understand.
    Your mother

Monday, May 4, 2015

Before and After

     One evening, not very long ago Mr. Pepper asked me if we still have a certain book, and if we do he'd like to read it again.
     "I think it's in the storage room," I said quite carefree. Since we have hundreds and hundreds of books, I offered to go get it for him.
      I traipsed up the stairs quite happily and opened the door to the storage room. At that moment my carefree happiness flew right out the window.
      For longer than I care to admit when ever something needed to go to the storage room I sent the children to put it in. Likewise if I needed something I sent them to retrieve it, so I was not prepared for the nightmare that greeted me as I opened the door.

      The past five days the girls and I have spent every afternoon cleaning and organizing, and it's once again the pleasant place I had in mind. I will be checking it every so often because there will not be a repeat of that mess again!