How many Taliban leaders is your son worth?

I am not usually one to participate in political discussions.  I do not enjoy the political banter between red and blue and I certainly don't enjoy arguing my political positions with friends.  But the recent uproar over POW Bowe Bergdahl's release has me thinking. 

I've watched numerous news anchors and commentators discuss whether or not this American soldier was worthy of rescue.  At one point, I even questioned it myself.  I wondered how our government could give up five known Taliban leaders for one American soldier.  As I read more and more stories about this soldier, I became angry about the seemingly useless act.  I read the speculation that he deserted his camp and fellow soldiers.  I read that six American servicemen lost their lives searching for him.  That certainly seems like a tall price.

It is impossible, however, for me to view cases like these without looking through my "mother goggles."  For me, having children made the world a different place.  I can not think about political situations like these without thinking of my own children.  I can not escape the thoughts that come.  Thoughts like "What if that were my son?"

As I looked for answers, Jesus suddenly spoke to me.  Very quietly, but bluntly, he asked me, "How many Taliban leaders is your son worth?"  It stopped me dead in my tracks.  I would give anything to have my son freed.  Anything. There would be no second-guessing, "But did he desert his country?  Is he a traitor? Did he intend to join the enemy?  Did he make a terrible mistake?"  It simply would not matter.  I'd just want my son home.

The questions continued to humble my heart. What if Jesus thought I wasn't worthy of saving?  What if my mistakes had led Him to consider the price too high?

By human nature, we are quick to judge.  We are quick to point out that rules were broken and mistakes were made.  I am so glad that I serve a God that doesn't keep record of wrongs.  Through God's grace He rescued me.  Though the price was too high, he saved me.  He gave his life for me.  He would spend a lifetime chasing my tracks to find me.  He would never give up looking for me. 

He is my Savior.  I am free. 

Aren't we supposed to think like Jesus?  Isn't He our ultimate example? Didn't he rescue the unworthy? 

I am thankful that mistakes I've made didn't result in national security consequences.  I am also thankful that my bad decisions aren't plastered all over the evening news.  I am most thankful for a God that loves me despite all of these.  No matter your opinions on this debate, a son is safe.  I'm pretty sure Jesus is pleased with that.

Dear Lord,
Thank you for rescuing me despite my mistakes.  Thank you for reminding me that other people's mistakes are not mine to judge.  It is so easy to get caught up in the controversy of this world.  Help me to keep my eyes on you no matter the circumstance, no matter the situation.  There is no debating your love for me.  I am so grateful you found me worthy.  I love you so much.   Amen.

So if the Son sets you free, you will indeed be free. John 8:36

Motherhood to Me

Mother's Day is here and what does that mean to this mother of three?   I stop to ponder what would make my Mother's Day special and discover that the best Mother's Day doesn't include a Hallmark card, or a huge bouquet of flowers, or even chocolate candy.  For me, this day is set aside to remember how very blessed I am to have three little people call me "Mama."

Motherhood is a joy, a challenge, and the very best gift I have ever received.  Being a mother takes courage, hope, and more love than I ever thought I had.  But it has its rewards too. In return for my efforts, I get kisses, flowers from the yard, silly little stories, Harris-isms, TWINS, and so much more.

So, this Mother's Day, I pray my children know that I don't care much about receiving a gift.  I've already been given all I've ever really wanted.  Them.

Motherhood is love and so much more.  For me, Motherhood is...

• That very first ultrasound.  That very first heartbeat.  That very first kick.

• Bottles, formula, and endless amounts of baby food on the kitchen floor.

• Diaper changes and feedings at Midnight, 2 am, 4 am and 6 am.  (times two)

• Long naps in the bed with two babies and then three.

• Feeling like those long infant nights are never going to end.  And then they do.

• Carrying arm loads of baby carriers, strollers, and diaper bags.

• Car, then mini-van, then big SUV.

• Potty-training, pull-ups, and big boy pants.

• Accidents in Target, accidents in Wal-Mart, accidents at church, and big girl panties.

• Ballet practice, ballet costumes, and ballet recitals.

• Baseball practice, baseball practice, and more baseball practice.

• Baby laundry, big kid laundry, and endless laundry!

• Bedtime stories, bedtime prayers, and very special bedtime talks.

• Smiles from the bleachers to a nervous 1st baseman.

• Cheers from the sidelines to a very brave goalkeeper.

• Lunch after doctor appointments to postpone school one more hour.

• Playing hangman in church and passing gum to keep them quiet.

• Praying over and over they find Jesus as their Savior.

• Gentle words of encouragement when friends' words leave a scar.

• Calling my own Mama when I need a little help.

• Saying NO when sometimes you really want to say YES.

• Two miscarriages that leave me lonely, hurt, and afraid.

• Ultrasounds that show Baby A and Baby B.

• Preschool plays, preschool pictures, and preschool good-byes.

• Kindergarten friends and then reading books to me.

• "Mama! Watch this!" and giving back a "Woo Hoo!"

• Coupe cars, then training wheels, and riding bikes.

• Watching the corner while he rides his bike around the block for the first time. The sigh of relief when I see him making the turn.

• "Mama, can I have the keys? I need to pick up a friend."

• Piano recitals, church choirs, and singing in the backseat.

• Swimming pools, floaties, and "Look Mom!  I can dive!"

• Saying "I love you" and knowing it can never fully describe the way my heart feels.

• Hearing "I love you" from that baby and instantly my heart melts.

• Peanut butter sandwiches and lunchboxes for three.

• Surprise trips to get ice cream just because we can.

• "Dear God, I don't know what to do. This mothering stuff is tough."

• Saying "I'm sorry. Mama messes up too."

• Long, tight hugs after a heartbreaking defeat in the championship game.

• Jumping and screaming for my All-Star who scores a winning run.

• The lump in my throat when hearing "Take him to the E.R. I think it's a concussion."

• Wiping tears and long hugs when Bailey, our dog, goes to be with Jesus. 

• "I miss Great Dad" and mustering an "I do too."

• Knowing that I wouldn't be the mother I am today if I didn't have the greatest Mama of my own.

• Allowing three little people take my heart with them everywhere they go.

• Rocking babies and hearing sweet whispers from above, "I love you even more than this."

Being a mother is the greatest gift I've ever known. God has used this experience to show me love, mercy, and grace.  There are so many ways that He pours out His love for us here on Earth.  I believe making me a mother is one very special way He makes me into the person He wants me to be.  And for that, I am eternally grateful. 


Dear Jesus,

So many times I've thanked you for making me Mama to Matt, Macy, and Harris.  If I thanked you every day for the rest of life, I couldn't thank you enough for the gifts of these three babies.  They fill my heart with joy and my life with purpose.  Through them, I see a little bit more of you each day.  Use them to mold me.  And may they see You in me.  Chase them, Jesus, and never let go.  I love you so.  Amen.

Children are a gift from God.  They are his reward. Psalm 127:3

They are yours, Lord.

Dear Jesus,

The words "Thank you" just don't seem to be enough.  Surely there are words more powerful than these to express my gratitude to you today.  As I watched Matthew's and Macy's baptism this morning, I was overcome by the love you have for them.  I was overcome by the love you have for me. 

Because you love me, you have blessed me with these two very special people.  I prayed for them and you answered. They are the miracles that solidified my faith in you.  

Matthew and Macy fill our home with joy and laughter.  They are funny, caring, smart, and share a love for each other that continues to amaze me.  They have a heart for people, a heart for each other, and now, a heart for you.  They taught me how to love, how to live, and how to see joy in it all.

As their mother, it is difficult to imagine anyone loving them more than I do.  But as I watched them both declare you as their Savior this morning, I realized that the love I have for these two only scrapes the surface of the love you have for them.  That realization overwhelms me.  It is your love that brought them to this baptism day. 

Thank you for pursuing my children.  Thank you for stretching through the ugliness of this world and wrapping their hearts in your grace. I pray that you will continue to bind them to you through their adolescent years.  And in those tough teen years, sweet Jesus, don't let go.  When they leave our home for college, I know that you'll go with them.  Guide both of them to make decisions that point to you.  When they fall, pick them up, brush them off, and set their paths straight towards you again. Remind them of the cross and your unfailing grace. 

There has never been a day when I've been more proud to be Matthew's and Macy's mother.  When you gave them to me, I promised you I would spend my life leading them to you.  We did it, Lord.  They are yours.  May this be the beginning of two lives lived for you. 

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
O what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.
 This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior, all the day long.

The Ever-Morphing Daughter

What is it about 9 year-old girls?  They seem to morph from sweetness to dragon in two seconds flat.  I know because I see it with Macy just about every day.  How is it that these nice little girls can be so loving to their American Girl dolls one minute and then screaming with smoke coming out of their ears the next?
 
So many times when my twins were babies, friends would say to me, "Enjoy them while they are young."  I always thought the were telling me that I would miss them when they were grown and out of the house.  Maybe some were, but as my daughter grows, I've come to understand something else they might have really meant.  What they were ever-so-delicately trying to say was, "Enjoy them now.  They begin morphing way sooner than you think!"
 
Let me give you an example....
 
Today, I took all three children to the doctor.  Granted, only one had an actual doctor's appointment, but it's tax season and Scott is not as readily available.  I can't just leave the other two at home, so off we go to the doctor's office to address the nagging cough Macy has had for over 5 weeks now.  I know, don't judge.  It was time to do something about it. 
 
After waiting for over an hour (that alone with three kids is not an easy task), we finally get to see the doctor and I begin explaining all the symptoms.  Throughout most of the conversation, Macy sat smiling and agreeing, making small talk with the doctor as she perched upon the table.  All of a sudden, as I explained some of the symptoms, she burst into the conversation with this:  "Mom, that is NOT true.  I did not tell you my chest hurt when I coughed.  You are so wrong!"  She morphed before my eyes.  My sweet angel had turned into the dragon..."You are so wrong!" she repeated.    Come on, moms, you know what happened next.  I went straight into my "sweet but firm" mom voice and reminded my dear child of our conversation early this morning when she swore that her chest hurt when she coughed.  I replayed the entire conversation with her and even explained that she was standing in the kitchen door with juice in her hand!  Again, Macy disagreed, only louder this time.  Morphed again...bigger dragon.
I gave her the "you just wait until we get out of here" look and then smiled back at the doctor.  He was standing politely, no doubt wondering what had happened to the sweet little child that had entered the room. 

Needless to say, my moody dragon was punished.  Instead of enjoying one of the last Mardi Gras parades with Dad and the boys, she stayed home with me, QUEEN OF THE DRAGONS.

As I thought about how to handle my dear little dragon, I realized a few things.  First, she is JUST LIKE ME.  Far too often, I am too quick to correct someone.  Truth be told, I like to be right.  I am most definitely a Type A personality...competitive, hurried, and striving for perfection.  Maybe some of this has rubbed off on my Macy.

I also thought about the hormones that might be beginning to rage within my baby girl's body.  There have been more zits on her face lately. 

And then I remembered how awkward it was to be a preteen.  As the doctor tried to listen to Macy's chest today, she seemed nervous to have him lift her shirt.  She was uncomfortable in that room today and maybe her shouting was just an outlet for that stress.  How many times have I shouted at my children when stressed or under fire from other pressures?

Even still, the mother in me wanted my girl to understand that behaviors like hers have consequences.  When the boys left for the parade, my sweet girl gently said goodbye and wished them luck.  My heart hurt for her.  This mothering thing is the real deal.  It hurts to watch your child learn from her own mistakes.

And then it hit me:  I have an opportunity to use this time to build a relationship with my little morphing dragon.  I asked her to go to dinner with me and we giggled, we played, and we sang. It was the best decision I've made as a mother this week.

And from the backseat on the way home, my little dragon said, "Mom, I'm sorry I embarrassed you today.  I shouldn't have yelled at you, especially in front of the doctor.  Thank you for doing this with me tonight." 

And again, she morphed right back into my sweet little girl. 

I often struggle with how to handle parenting issues with my children.  I wonder which discipline methods are best suited for each child and try my best to approach each child according to their own unique personalities.  Tonight, my Jesus showed me that compassion and forgiveness can often trump discipline.  Or maybe, they go hand-in-hand. 

12 Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. 13 Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.   Colossians 3:12-13



Undeniably God

Sometimes God begins a story and only when you take the time to look back, do you see that all the pieces fit together perfectly.  This is a story that is undeniably God.
 
 
There are days when I seem to have this whole "Mom" thing figured out.   I can whip up a breakfast, get my three kids, myself, and my husband out the door by 7:20 a.m. and still have all five of us living by nightfall.  But, sometimes, as a mother, I find myself questioning my mothering skills.   There are days when I look to Heaven and ask, "Are you sure that I can do this?  I don't know what to do.  Please help me help my child."  Watching your child hurt is an overwhelmingly difficult experience.
 
This was the case about two weeks ago when Macy came to me in tears over a friendship gone sour.  Now, let me make it clear that this post is not about that incident or even that failed friendship.  It's about me, the mother who finds herself approaching a new stage in this game of life. And it's about the way God ALWAYS shows himself faithful.
 
 For most of my "Mom" career, my kids have come crying because of scraped knees, stubbed toes, and hurt hands.  These hurts seem so easy to fix...kisses and a Band-Aid work wonders for healing little ones.  These are the aches and pains that they will never remember. 
 
But as my twins grow older, I'm finding that my mothering skills are being tested.  No longer do I struggle with simple concerns like making them wear their jackets outside or worrying about whether or not another cookie will make their teeth rot out.  No, I'm long over the days of simple worries.  This game is not so easy anymore and the way that I handle each twist and turn seems monumental in their precious little lives. 
 
My kids are coming to me with damaged egos, broken hearts, and shattered self-esteems.  Simple bandages don't repair the wounds created by mean words, deceptions, and exclusions.  These are the hurts that can make or break my children.  These are the hurts that they will remember for a lifetime.
 
And so, like many mothers, I look for guidance in the piles of parenting books I've stored.  Some tell you to teach them to fight back, to stand their ground.  Others say that teaching your child ways to communicate will prove helpful in tough situations.  Still others suggest children be limited in developing their own friendships and that parents should play a vital role in those decisions.   It seems that there is no one answer to helping my precious ones through these early adolescent days.  I have finally realized that these are the experiences they must learn to manage on their own. 
 
And so I set out to help them do so.   I prayed for guidance.  I prayed for answers.  And I prayed these delicate years would just pass without another bump in the road. 
 
As I prayed, I found myself looking for bible verses and stories to help my sweet Macy in her friendships.  We looked for verses that taught us what a real friend is and how a friend acts: 
 
A friend loves at all times.  Proverbs 17:17
 
Love one another.  1 John 4:7
 
Be ye kind one to another.  Ephesians 4:32
 
Love keeps no record of wrongs.  1 Corinthians 13:5
 
Love your neighbor as yourself.  Matthew 22:39
 
We talked about how to BE a good friend and how to respond to the actions of others.  We learned that God asks us to pray for the people who hurt us and through that we are made strong.  We focused on empowering Macy with good words, good thoughts, and good actions. 

One day last week I put a little note in her lunchbox to remind her what we talked about.  On it, I wrote the words of Joshua 1:9: "Be strong and courageous.  For God is with you wherever you go."  I wanted her to understand that she was not alone.  That Christ would help her in every situation.  I wanted her to understand how valuable she is; not because of what others think of her, but simply because Jesus loves her.
 
The verse stuck with me so much that I included it on my boys' Valentine's Day gift.  I want each of my children to walk confidently knowing that Jesus is with them every step of the way.  It was as if the verse was written just for us.
 
In the past two weeks, I've shared some of the sweetest moments I've ever known with my daughter.  We've hugged, we've cried, and we've prayed.  I spent days praying that she would come to understand the love of Christ within her.  I have seen so many glimpses of Him and I knew that He was actively pursuing her.  And then as He always does, his love came through.  She asked Jesus to live in her heart. My baby will be spending eternity in heaven with Jesus.   And suddenly, it all made sense.  These difficult days were all to point her to Him.  
  
Today, our pastor preached a sermon on finding God's will for your life.  The verses we studied were, of course, Joshua 1:1-9.  I am constantly reminded of my Jesus' love for me.  And today, my Macy enjoyed the reminder, too. 

What a good God we serve.  He orchestrated the whole thing for us.  Joshua 1:9 will forever be a favorite verse for our family.  It is an empowering verse that overflows with love.

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.   Joshua 1:9



 

Sharing the Crimson Legacy

After the Sugar Bowl, as I scroll through my social media pages, I am again reminded why I bleed crimson and white. 

There are stories of the Bama mom caught on tape fighting for her Tide.  There are negative comments about Bama fans losing control over the loss.  And there are countless other innuendoes of how we losers should stay in our trailer parks and cry it out.  I am again amazed at the sheer number of fans from other teams that want their jab at us simply because we yell Roll Tide.  I say bring it on.  Nothing you say will ever change my Crimson Legacy.  Nothing.

My Crimson Legacy runs deep because I was raised to appreciate the experience of being a Tide fan.  It is more than winning and losing.  It has always been way more than that. 

It's being born in Druid City Hospital and calling Tuscaloosa home. 

It's countless hours in Bryant Denny stadium, Coleman Coliseum, and Foster auditorium cheering on the Tide. 

It's doughnuts from the Krispy Kreme in Alberta City. 

It's that moon winking at you every time you drive by. 

It's being nine years old and carrying that University of Alabama employee dependent card to prove that I was a card-carrying fan.

It's remembering when basketball was big and beating Kentucky was even bigger.

It's Bobby Lee Hurt, Derrick McKey, Mark Gottfried, Penney Hauschild, Bobby Humphrey, Jay Barker, AJ McCarron, and many more.

It's breakfast at Waysider, lunch at City Café, and dinner at DePalma's. 

It's Hackberry, 15th Street, and Bryant Drive.

It's Eli Gold's voice.

It's Yea, Alabama.

It's  Sweet Home Alabama.

It's the Million Dollar Band.

It's the Bryant Museum.

It's the Strip on Thursday night.

It's Denny Chimes.

It's the Tusk, the Houndstooth, and Gallette's.

It's Dreamland.

It's Bear, Gene, and Saban.

It's 15 national championships in football.

It's 6 national championships in gymnastics.

It's 2 national championships in golf.  

It's 1 national championship in softball.

It's because I, my husband, my mother, my father, my sister, my mother-in-law, my father-in-law, and both brothers-in-law all call the University of Alabama their alma mater.  But I think more than all of these, I love the Crimson Tide because of the tradition and legacy that it brings for my son.

As a surprise this Christmas, my husband and I decided to buy our 9-year old son, Matt, a Sugar Bowl ticket.  This boy is a die-hard Bama fan and knows stats about current and former players better than most adults.  His room is littered with Alabama football items...posters, helmets, jerseys, banners, footballs, and even Bama bed sheets and pillowcases.  He loves the Tide and I love watching him enjoy them.

And so, as we prepared for our trip to New Orleans, I loved watching the excitement grow for him.  He couldn't wait to cheer on the team he loves.  He anxiously waited to watch AJ and his crew defeat those Sooners.  He prepared by asking questions about Oklahoma and wanted to know as much as he could about their offense and defense. 

Amid all the talk about our fans, they did not let me down.  A couple of Tide fans gave us shakers.  Others took pictures for us.  Still others offered to get us drinks and snacks as they went to buy their own.  The stadium was packed with hospitable fans dressed in crimson and houndstooth.  I was proud of our fans and happy that Matt experienced such a great night.

And although our Tide didn't come out on top, the legacy continues.  He experienced it.  He lived it. He loved it.  He has so much more to look forward to.  And that's worth way more than winning or losing.

 

Roll Tide before.  Roll Tide now.  Roll Tide Always.

The Halfway Mark

This morning as my family woke, I heard Matthew race into Macy's room.  I heard him gently say, almost whispering, "Macy, Happy Birthday to us!  We are NINE years old!"  The bond that my twins share is something I don't think I will ever truly understand.

And as they stood in her pink room, littered with baby dolls, Barbie, and play makeup, hugging with excitement, I was stunned by the realization that Matthew and Macy have reached the halfway mark.  As they turn nine years old today, I suddenly realize we only have nine more years with them in our home.  I find myself overwhelmed...certainly nine years will never be enough time to teach them all they need to know before leaving to discover what God has planned for them.

But as I stop and think about the past nine years and all that they have accomplished, my fears subside just a bit.  At birth they weighed less than a bag of sugar and now they are thriving, healthy almost preteens.  In the NICU, they couldn't suck from a bottle without growing very tired and now they outrun, out-bike, out-talk, out-sing, and out-laugh me on a daily basis.  At 13 months, I wondered if Macy would ever walk and now she is a favorite on her school's soccer team.  At 4 years old, I wondered if Matt would ever be able to pronounce his th's and r's correctly.  And just last year, he stood with ease before a gymnasium full of students, adults, and veterans and gave a speech that took my breath away. 

And so, as I brace for the next nine years, I look ahead with excitement and anticipation of what these two will accomplish.  If I'm honest, I worry a little too.  The next years are sure to be the hardest to parent.  There are many new discoveries in the preteen and teenage years that are sure to throw some twists and turns on this road we are traveling.  But as we go, these are the very things that I can't wait to share with my twins.  And as they grow, I pray that they...


make themselves available to Christ and realize that He can use them for His glory.

love others at school even when they are hard to love.

be bold in telling others about Jesus and His love for them.

learn that forgiveness is more about them than the person they are forgiving.

achieve continued academic success but choose to learn out of a desire for knowledge.

strive for honesty  and integrity in all situations.

find friends who love them for who they are on the inside.

BE a friend who loves for what's on the inside.

show grace to those that hurt them.

play sports because they love the game more than the score on the scoreboard.

enjoy every first dance, first date, first kiss, and first break-up.

choose a college wisely and with concern for more than football and friends.

remain healthy and free from cancer, broken bones, and concussions.

love their little brother and keep a genuine desire to be friends with him.

keep the unspoken connection they share as they grow older.

More than all of these, I pray that they love Jesus recklessly.  I pray that Matt and Macy come to understand just how much He loves them.  I want them to experience the same joy in Him that I did when God gave them to me.  Because only then will they understand how they carry my heart with them each and every day. 

Happy Birthday Matthew and Macy.  I have loved every minute of the first nine years and I am so thankful God made you mine.

I thank my God every time I remember you.  Philippians 1:3