Apr 16 2013

Peace and Prayers

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If you knew your request would not be denied, what miracle would you pray for?

What  would you plead for, if given the chance to speak directly to God?

The other day, on the way home from school, Dylan told me that he wants peace for the world so that people don’t yell at each other any more.

“I’m gonna pray for peace, Mama.  I’m gonna pray that Jesus will give us peace, and he will hear my prayer and everyone will be happy.”

And, he has great faith, people.  It takes the child like, wide-open eyes of faith to see the prayers and miracles that you plead for to be answered.

With the tragic events of the Boston Marathon yesterday, I am opening my eyes to the possibility that Dylan’s great prayer is answered.

 

Apr 14 2013

Authenticity in Authorship

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I am a mom.  I am a blogger.  When combining those two things, you would assume that I read other mom blogs. And, you would be right.

They all have their similarities: talk about relationships with our spouse and friends while parenting, new milestones that our children reach, and an honest look at the difficulty of being a mother.  I read mom blogs to understand and be reminded that I am not alone, and mothers all over the world struggle with the same things that I do.  I appreciate the honesty that I find in some of these blogs, and I think that as mothers, we need to strive to be the most authentic women we can.

However, too often, I run across honesty that borders on hate.  Honesty that seeks to attract readership with clever words.  Honesty, that, to an outsider, seems funny, or at the very least entertaining.

I bet you have seen the posts too:

The posts where a mother complains for a full page about a particular Target run and it’s disastrous result with her children.

The posts where a woman feels compelled to speak of her child, and within the same paragraph (and sometimes the same sentence), refer to them with a particular swear word.

The posts where a woman, so desperate for attention or redemption, tells the entire world that her children are the biggest regrets of her life.

The posts where a wife seems to take cruel satisfaction in broadcasting her husband’s faults and inabilities.

When I read their words, my stomach churns.  I don’t think those posts are funny or entertaining.  I wonder what her children will think when they go back and read about how their mother described them with curse words or described how she wishes they had never been born.  I wonder what her husband thinks when he reads a post entirely devoted to putting him down.  In all reality, isn’t that the worse kind of cyber-bullying?  Are we cyber-bullying our own families with these cutting words?  Are we, as mothers and wives, so insecure that we seek acceptance from any unknown reader at our family’s expense?

And, as readers, do we excuse it because it isn’t about our kids or about our husbands?  Do we think it’s entertaining because the author chose descriptive words to tell her story of woe?

Don’t get me wrong.  My life isn’t always roses and rainbows.  I have those same Target runs, my patience runs thin just like every other mother, and Drew and I aren’t always on the same page. However, if I decide to vent my frustration with the world via my blog, you most certainly won’t see me point the finger of blame on my children. I won’t swear about my children, and I won’t transfer my frustration onto an innocent human that loves me more than anything else.  And, on the rare day that Drew and I squabble?  The details will not be mentioned here.

I don’t necessarily author this blog for my family.  It is for me, because I enjoy it.  But, at a certain point, my children will look back at it as the story of how their lives and mine intertwined.  But, when they do, I most certainly don’t want them reading hurtful words I wrote about them.  Drew doesn’t log on and read my blog every time I write a new post.  But, when he does, I want for him to feel uplifted by the words I have expressed.  I want for them all to understand that even though we weren’t a perfect family all the time, I loved them the whole time with my whole heart.  I want for them to understand that my love for them and my devotion to them was the most authentic part of me.

 

 

If you choose to comment on this post, please do so in the comments section below rather than commenting on Facebook.

Jan 14 2013

Faith

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Things don’t always go as planned.  What you may have interpreted as God’s voice is really your own voice creating what you think the plan should be.  Your best intentions of being a faithful servant don’t always align with His plan.

And then, the devil disguised as disappointment creeps into your heart, making you think that what you’ve got ain’t good enough; that the path you’ve traveled isn’t quite far enough.  So you sulk.  You pout.  And, you doubt.

Then, you sit back and understand that part of being the faithful servant is putting yourself back in His Hands.  And you look around and realize that all of the blessings that surround you every. single. moment are from Him.  You realize that maybe His Plan rockets you forward so far that you don’t recognize the girl that sulked and pouted.  And, then you wait.  You wait for his Divine Plan to work in your life, and when it does and you look back at that silly girl, you realize that it all makes sense.  And then, you are thankful once again – because even when you doubted, He believed.

Dec 13 2012

Why I’m not failing as a mother

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As my boys grow older, each year I am my own worst enemy.  I scour facebook and pinterest for tradition ideas, hoping that I find one nugget that I can use to make the Holidays more special.  Finding them is no trouble at all, it’s the execution – or the patience during the execution – that could use a little work.  You see, our elf on the shelf doesn’t do tricks, my Christmas cookies aren’t perfectly piped, and I’m pretty sure that the Gingerbread houses that are sitting in the kit-like boxes on my counter will not be up to building code.

But, my boys are happy.   I spend time with them.  They are clean, have a warm home, and enjoy Christmas (and life)  in all of it’s crazy glory.  This article reminded me that I don’t have to master everything.  I only have to master rearing my children in a disciplined, loving home.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/amy-morrison/motherhood_b_2271349.html?utm_hp_ref=parents&ir=Parents&ncid=edlinkusaolp00000009

Nov 22 2012

Thanksgiving 2012

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Photo courtesy of Gina Zeider

I have so much to be thankful for.  Especially today, I want to express how blessed I am.

I am thankful for my first-born, Dylan.  His sweet, sensitive nature warms my heart.  I am thankful for my special relationship with him.  When he was a newborn, a woman who had a son of her own, told me that sons have the best relationship with their mom.  And although I didn’t necessarily believe it at the time, it has indeed come true.  I am thankful for the love that he expresses to his baby brother and the friendship that they share.

I am thankful for my baby, Cody.  His strong will will surely be transformed into leadership one day, and I for that I am thankful.  He is always the first to share, and his little voice telling me that he loves me makes my day.  I am thankful for his willingness to help, every day, and in every way.  He has the perfect combination of smarts and love.  I am thankful for the way that if he won’t listen to anyone else, he listens to his big brother.

I am thankful for my husband, Drew.  He truly is the glue that keeps this circus together.  I am thankful for his laid-back nature.  When I am particularly stressed and high-strung, his nature is what keeps me grounded.  I am thankful for the past 7 years of marriage – he has taught me more about myself than I would have ever learned on my own.  His love and acceptance is above and beyond what I would have ever hoped for and my love for him grows each day.

I am thankful for my best friend, Aleshia.  I can cry and laugh with her; I can be mad and I can celebrate with her.  It doesn’t matter to her what I look like or how I dress, because she loves me for who I am inside.  She knows my deepest, darkest secrets and doesn’t judge me.  Without her, I would surely go crazy.

I am thankful for my parents.  They have supported me, loved me, and stood behind me every step of the way.  Now that I am fully into adulthood, I love that I can go to them with ideas, questions, and thoughts, and we can have deep, meaningful conversations.  I love how much they love my boys – their love is addictive to them.  Dylan and Cody truly cannot get enough of Grammie and Grampie.  I love how much they love my husband – having their support in my marriage and our life together means more than they know.

I am thankful for all of my friends.  Through the good and the bad times, the people surrounding me have enveloped me with their love and support.  I have the freedom to say what’s on my mind, even when they may not agree.  They make me laugh every day.

I am thankful for my extended family.  We don’t see each other every day, we don’t talk every day, but it is my Kirchoff family that helps me understand true allies.  My grandmother was the matriarch of our family, and even though she is gone, I know that each one of us would stand up for another.  These are the people who will always be in my corner – cheering me on, and, if need be, becoming part of my army.  Thank you for all of your love.

Finally, I am most thankful today for Jesus Christ.  As my relationship with him grows and changes every day, I am constantly reminded how unworthy I am.  But, it’s only Him that makes me worthy of all of my blessings.  I am thankful that His quiet voice is becoming louder in my soul every minute, and that he has brought me new mentors and relationships that help Him weave into every facet of my life.  It is only by His grace and sacrifice that I have true eternal hope.

We all have so much to be thankful for, you see.  Each one of us can write our own list.  My list will serve as a constant reminder of my love, adoration, and thankfulness for each person that I have written about.  And, while some of the people that I have mentioned
 may never read it, I wanted to “say” it out loud so that I can remind myself to be as thankful as I am today every day.

Happy Thanksgiving – may you and yours have a safe, wonderful Holiday.

Much Love,

Stef

 

Nov 12 2012

The Couch

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So, let’s talk about an inanimate object for a second… or two.

As many of you know, we had a couch.  It was a wonderfully large, yet disgustingly stained sectional that Drew and I had purchased over 8 years ago.  We loved it, yet hated it at the same time.  It was comfortable, yes, but whenever we had company, we cringed when they would look at it…  We could hear their internal dialogue, and it sounded something like this: “They really want for me to sit on this thing?  There is dog hair all over it, and I am pretty sure that someone spilled – or puked – all over this thing…”  They would sit, begrudgingly, and focus on the conversation rather than the piece of furniture.  God love them.

So, it became time to find another couch – something that literally took years to do.  We couldn’t figure out what we wanted, and we didn’t normally see eye-to-eye about the vision.  And then one day, we found it.  We couldn’t believe it, and to be honest, we almost didn’t buy it at the time.  Thankfully, we did.

We put the old couch on craigslist for free and had tons of responses.  And, finally, it sunk in.  We were moving too quickly and the memories of the time spent on that couch sunk in.  That’s when the tears started to flow…

You see, we made a lot of memories on that couch.  See that chunky baby sitting there?  That’s Dylan.

There he is, again.  Except this time he is welcoming home his baby brother.

In my mind, that couch held all of the memories that we, Drew and I, had made together in 8 years.  It held a puppy, it held babies, it held snuggles and hugs.  While I don’t feel like my marriage or my time as a mother is defined by a couch, I feel like it bore witness to the growth and definition that I have in both of those important roles.

Now, we have a new couch.  We gave away our couch in the hopes that someone who needs a soft place to land (and to snuggle) receives it.  With God’s grace, our new couch will hold more memories.  And, because it’s leather, when someone spills (or pukes on it, because let’s be real, a little person is bound to do it…), we can just wipe it down and no visitor is the wiser.

Sep 27 2012

Richard Odes Baxter

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Even though it was hot outside, my breath would cloud the glass, my nose pressed firmly to it.  I would wait for hours at that window, willing the white sedan to pull into the driveway.  As soon as it did, I would run a circle of joy through the house, elated that they were finally there.  I would be waiting, barefoot on the hot concrete, even before he put the car into park.  They would climb out, probably stiff from the long journey, bend over to me, and flood me with hugs and kisses.  He smelled of his favorite cologne, his white hair was perfectly combed, and his plaid shirt perfectly matched his pants and suspenders. He was nary a wrinkle.  His soft hands would grasp my shoulders, pull away from me, and comment at how much I had grown since our last time together.

During those treasured visits, he would show me his favorite quarter, worn smooth from its daily spot in his pocket.  He would sit for hours as I incessantly talked about my life, his eyes twinkling in their own special way.  When I would ruffle his hair, he would scoff, and politely take the comb out of his pocket and smooth it back into place.  He and I would laugh – his beautiful, full laugh – about jokes, silliness, or nothing at all.  I would tickle his neck, and he would giggle with his shoulders hunched, and then he would tickle me back.  He found amazing beauty all around, even when no one else could see it.  He would tell stories, and even though I had heard them before, they would be interesting once again.  There were always new details, and looking back, I’m not sure if he had perfected the art of exaggeration or if he had mistakenly forgotten those pertinent details during the first 10 times telling them.  He never offered opinions unless asked, never scolded me, and had the patience of a saint during my antics.

 

Throughout my own journey of youth and early adulthood, I never truly realized the gift that I had been given in my adopted Grandpa.  You see, he was my Uncle Bud, but he was perfect as a grandpa – he fit into that grandfather shaped hole in my heart with the intricate fit that only God can design.  He taught me faith, loyalty, serenity, and love, all without saying a word.  He taught me modesty.  He never boasted his successes, yet always taught me humble, gentle lessons he himself had learned from failures throughout his life.  He taught me to laugh and live a joyous life.  His smile came easily, and could lighten the darkest of moments.  He taught me to give of myself to others with no reservation.  He had made a decision long ago to serve people all around him, and he did it with a soldier’s fortitude.  Long ago, he also made the decision  to follow Christ with that same soldier’s heart.  Even during the times in his life that may have caused him to stumble or doubt God’s plan he relied upon his loyalty and quiet faith to overcome.

When telling us his story, he wept at his own unworthiness of God’s love.  I think, despite his worldly faults, he was the most worthy of God’s love.  You see, it’s me that is unworthy; unworthy of Uncle Bud’s unfailing love and humility, and unworthy of the blessing that I received when he welcomed me into his arms as his adopted grandchild.

Sep 5 2012

Kindergarten

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My sweet Little Bear,

Today is your first day of Kindergarten.  The time has passed so quickly that I have become afraid to blink.

You, my friend, are going to be wonderful.  I  am sure that even as I type these words, there are other boys and girls who are preparing to be your friend – excited to meet you.  You have the kindest, most gentle soul of anyone that I have had the pleasure to meet, and your smile can light up a room.  Even if I wasn’t your Mama, I would think you were a great human.

When we brought you home from the hospital, neither one of us knew what we were in for.  We didn’t know the love that would blossom; we didn’t understand the depth of a parent’s love for their baby.  But, somehow, in your infancy, you taught us – and what a blessing your lessons have been.  My relationship with you is so special, and I love helping you understand, every day, that you are the light of my life.

I wanted to share a few lessons for you that come straight from the center of my heart:

1.  You are awesome.  Don’t listen to others that disagree with me.  You know who you are, and be willing to let others take their time getting to know you.  Once they do, you will most definitely change their mind.

2.  You have compassion.  Show it to others that need it.  You make friends easily, so take the boys and girls under your wing that don’t have it all figured out yet.

3.  You are funny.  Be willing to share your laughter and joy with people that surround you.  You never know when you will be the only person to give them a smile that day.

4.  You are brave.  Conjure up that bravery when you need it most – defend others that deserve it and don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself .

5.  You are quiet.  Remember to be quiet sometimes – it takes more guts to be still and listen then it does to talk smart.  Use your ears, and your heart, to listen to what people are telling you, even if they don’t come right out and say it.

6.  You are patient.  Please use that patience all on yourself.  You won’t know and understand everything right away, so please give yourself some space to learn and try new things without getting frustrated.

7.  You are smart.  You know how to learn and you pick up new skills and lessons quicker than anyone I know.  Use those smarts to move you forward.  Don’t let anyone put you down for being a smart kid – they wish they were as smart as you.

8.  You are strong.  Don’t follow the crowd simply because you feel you should.  Follow your heart, it rarely leads you astray.

9.  You are loved.  You have a loving home to retreat to, and I will always be there with a hug, a kiss, and a listening ear.

So, as you start your journey today, try and remember at least some of these things.  I know that I can’t come to school to guide you, protect you, and watch over you, but I will be here, every afternoon, listening to your stories, and experiencing life through your eyes.

I love you more than words can say,

Your Mama

Jul 13 2012

Back to reality

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I have to confess that as a mother my children drive me absolutely crazy sometimes.  Between the whining, back talk, and fighting, trust me, they would test the patience of Mother Teresa.  After a particularly long night, I hug and kiss them goodnight, and say a special prayer that when I shut the door, they won’t reemerge.  I tell myself that I need some peace and quiet, and sit my butt on the couch watching mindless television.

And then I read about Anna and I am reduced to tears, sobbing for her grieving family, and grieving for me as well.  How could I let another night pass without sitting down to play cars and blocks and read books?  How could that one load of laundry take precedence over my beautiful boys?  I have lost another day with them simply because I didn’t take the time.

Her story is hard to read, I know.  I also understand that this isn’t the first time that I have posted something like this.  But, to be honest, don’t we all need a reality check every once in a while as Mommy’s?

Ever since Dylan was born, I could imagine him as a big, strong young man who boisterously barges into my kitchen home from college with a bag of clothes that desperately need to be washed.  He gives me a big hug and asks me what is for dinner.  He ravages my fridge and quickly downs a gallon of milk – and in that moment, none of it matters.  I’m just glad to have him home.  To hear his voice and his laughter.

Those are the moments that all moms look forward to, I’m sure.  Unfortunately, some moms don’t get to experience them. I’m going to try and remember that when I am frustrated, or angry, or impatient as they grow.  I’m going to remember to cherish my children for the mother’s that can’t hug, kiss, or snuggle theirs.  Unfortunately, only God knows how our life path will go – and I don’t want to regret missing any more moments.