An Ode to Half Term

Today they went back
Hurrah they returned
To that place of education
That place where they learn

Not that we switch off
There was reading to do
Postcards to write
And how to spell 'who'

The week off was fun
We had lots to do
Museums & Poppies 
To name but a few

We had good family time
And the husband was here
To parent alongside me
And wipe the odd tear

There were fights and squabbles
The usual stuff
I have four boys
So it gets quite rough

I told them to shut up
I had a good moan
I only swore once
When I was all alone

We made alien dinner
They fed some ducks
We watched MacGyver
They rolled in muck

Some days I laughed
Some days I cried
Always a mixed bag
Oh and the hamster died


There were no school runs
That's the best bit 
Staying in my pjs
Until the lamp posts were lit

It was mostly loud
There was a quiet day
They spooked me out
With their happy play

Other times they were sent
Off to their rooms
Or I just hid in mine
To escape the doom

But its always like that
The Highs & the lows

Some moments are fab
Then there are blows

But today they went back
It was ever so nice
Back to the packed lunches
And combing for lice

Back to uniform
And keeping it clean
Back to the school run
Living the dream

Back to some head space
And quiet time too
Back to some 'me time'
And cleaning the loo

Back to a moment
All by myself
To thank God for my blessings
Such Riches & Wealth

There is a time for everything,

    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

    a time to be born and a time to die,

    a time to plant and a time to uproot,

    a time to kill and a time to heal,

    a time to tear down and a time to build,

    a time to weep and a time to laugh,

    a time to mourn and a time to dance,

 

    a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

 

    a time to search and a time to give up,

    a time to keep and a time to throw away,

    a time to tear and a time to mend,

    a time to be silent and a time to speak,

    a time to love and a time to hate,

    a time for war and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3v1-8

Mothering without Mum

6 years ago, Jenni’s very healthy and active mum was diagnosed with cancer. Unfortunately it was a very rare and aggressive type that took her life very quickly. I asked Jenni if she would share her story of ‘Mothering without mum’, as part of the mothering series.

What were your dreams of being a mum, in relation to your own mum? 

Seeing my mum with my sisters and their children, I was thinking it would be fairly similar to that. She was such a great ‘hands on’ Grandma and I couldn't wait to have that relationship with my own kids and her. I looked forward to being pregnant, getting excited with her and for her to be there to answer my 'mum type questions', once I'd had a baby. I also looked forward to just hanging out with her and generally doing the next bit of life together, in the security of knowing she would be there to help if I needed a break or support.


Walk us through the life changes you quickly had to make... 


 I was recently engaged when mum was diagnosed, and we ended up bringing our wedding forward so that she could be there. After being in hospital, she had come home to be made more comfortable. All the family were gathered and one morning the Doctor told us that if we wanted her there for our wedding we needed to do it ASAP. So that evening we got married in my parent’s house, with my Mum upstairs in bed watching on a video feed. Some incredibly generous friends managed to put up a marquee in the garden, and completely transform the house, filling it with fairy lights and drapes in just 6 hours! It was beautiful and looked like something from the movie "Father of the bride".
4 days later my mum passed away, with her legacy surrounding her bedside, worshipping and thanking God through the tears, for her wonderful life.

When you fell pregnant, what thoughts did you have in regards to your mum not being there?
Me and my Husband had the happy surprise of finding out we were pregnant 3 months into married life! Although this was a little shock, we were extremely happy and knew that this was a perfectly timed, beautiful gift from God. I think if I had fallen pregnant years down the line, it would have always brought up the grief of not having Mum around. However seeing as it had only been a few months, it was all still so raw. Just like our wedding, it was a season full of joy, mixed in with sorrow and loss; there was going to be so many life experiences that I would not be able to share with my Mum.

How has mothering been, without mum around? We are very blessed to have such great family and friends around us. We both come from large families so it has always meant that we have had a great support network.

My Husband was (and still is) very supportive. Night or day, he was there to comfort me when I felt the loss the most. The times when mum would have been by first port of call, to ask her advice about the kids, or share something new they had done, were the toughest. My second child was in and out of hospital and I know that had she been there, she would have helped out in an instant. That was really difficult. I found it hard knowing that my sisters’ kids had a relationship with mum that mine couldn’t have. It was very hard not to be jealous of them and of my friends who had their own mums around. Still to this day, I have to go to God about it a lot. My family, although can’t replace her, have been a great support.

From having Pauline as your mum, what have you learnt about being a mum yourself?

She has taught me (along with my Dad) about life. She loved me unconditionally, provided for me, and was always there for me when I needed her. She has taught me that I will make mistakes as a mum, as she did, because only God is the perfect parent. She modelled a Christian walk to me, with ups and downs, but to keep God at the centre, and to have Him as my solid rock; to go to Him with everything. My amazing Mum, – she was strong, full of life, laughed a lot, loved a lot, was servant hearted; a woman of God, a wife, mum to many, friend to many, hospitable to all, and I miss her every day.

What has God taught you through all of this? 

6 years on, I now have 3 children, and there are definitely times when it hits me harder than others. But over these years I have felt Gods Fathering; His steadfastness, sovereignty and unconditional love for me. Even though there has been loss and heartache, I have far more to be happy about. God has been so good to me, I don't know how people do life without Him. He has blessed and surprised me with such goodness in my life and I am truly thankful. Mum has given me the foundations to draw near to and press into God, to have my own relationship and adventure with him.

What verses have you held onto in regards to mothering without your mum? 
There are many, but I like are Psalm 139 

and Psalm 73v23-26 

"Yet I am always with you;

you hold me by my right hand.
24 You guide me with your counsel,
 and afterward you will take me into glory.
25 Whom have I in heaven but you?
 And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
26 My flesh and my heart may fail,
 but God is the strength of my heart
 and my portion forever."

Mothering series...

Mothering Special Needs

Mothering and Mourning

Mothering at Christmas

Mothering Twins

Mothering Many

Mothering and Working

Mothering 'someone else's'

Mothering with Post Natal Depression

Mothering Young
Mothering Girls

Mothering an Empty Nest
Mothering in Fear
Mothering Alone
Mothering the Prodigal Son
Mothering Mum
Mothering Across Cultures
Mothering through loss

Tired & Tearful

Mmm...four months without a blog post, that's not very good is it? What have I been doing with my time? Well I guess there is Baby Number six growing in my uterus, and there are those five other time consuming little beings in my life, and there is that house to clean, and those toys to put away, and that washing which needed sorting. Then there's Facebook to look at and that romantic novel which needed reading, about a chocolate shop in Paris. Oh and there was Newday, and I seem to have the distant memories of a family holiday somewhere back there too. 

These answers are all valid of course, but I think somewhere in the midst of it all, I was just tired, too tired to write or think. There was a day on holiday, where me and the husband took it in turns to be semi conscious near the kids. They watched five dvds that day. That's 7.5hours of visual overload, and they mainly ate snacks. They couldn't quite believe that every time they approached us with,
"muuuuuuum, can I eat....?", they got a yes. That was a good day, for all concerned. Praise God for rest!

Going to bed at 9pm, makes you not only feel as old as your grandma, (bring out the warmed milk and Ovaltine) but you feel a little out of touch with the world around you. If you go to sleep as soon as the oldest one is tucked up for the night, there's no head space, or 'me time', or rubbish TV to embrace. Especially if your day consisted of the usual mum fun; answering the million questions on life and of course, the unanswerable 'why?', watching re-runs of The Octonauts and Spider-man, sorting out brotherly love which got too physical, changing a nappy or two, wiping a nose, wiping a bum, wiping the kitchen side...(Different cloths were used for all wiping scenarios).  

And although you're a hormonal, ever-so-slightly tearful mess, you try fighting the husband, who is suggesting sleep as a radical new cure for tiredness. You want to stay up later than your kids. At least 'til 10pm. Yeah...rock & roll. Maybe have a glass of fizzy and something from the snack drawer... You want to exist as you, not just as mum, tired mum. But you end up crying at every TV programme you flick through, from house renovations to hotel inspectors. So you concede that the husband, who puts up with the tears and the hormones, and has done for each and every pregnancy (and there's been a few) is indeed right. You give in and climb once more into bed at 9pm.

And then you remember that wonderful book of encouragement on your bedside table; The Bible... And God reminds you of a couple of verses in it. "Do not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up". Galations 6v9
I had most definitely grown weary. Weary of the day-to-day mothering. Weary from carrying a baby. Weary of wiping and answering and crowd controlling. And God asks me not to grow weary in doing good. Why? So that I can reap a harvest. Mothering is good, parenting is good; a worthy thing to plough your time and energy in to. 
John Piper puts that verse like this, "Don't lose heart spending yourself through love". 

And just what harvest can I expect? Well, hopefully the security of my kids' eternal destination. Put like that, then yes I will keep on keeping on, even if it means tucking myself under the duvet at 9pm, ready to do it all again tomorrow. I want each one of them to know Jesus for themselves, to have a relationship with God, to know their sins are forgiven and their name is on the VIP list for that great place to be; Heaven. So whether I'm wiping them, disciplining them, feeding them or answering their many questions, I'm reminded that I'm shaping them and getting them ready for much more. And yes it's tiring, but 'spending yourself through love' is the best way to spend yourself surely?! And what's wonderful to know is that God's word, the Bible contains so much more encouragement for me...
  "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me". Philippians 4v13

Pot Bound

For my birthday last year, a friend of mine brought me a lovely plant, with beautiful white flowers. And I've actually managed to keep it alive! It sits on my kitchen window, soaking up the warmth of the sun and is near enough to a tap that I'm reminded every day to water it. Recently, the leaves from the plant were taking over the pot that they were in, and the roots were starting to circle around the pot inside. There were lots of buds in the middle of the plant, which didn't seem to have room to extend. 

The green fingered husband told me that he thought it was on it's way to being 'pot bound'. So we needed to get fresh compost and re pot my lovely plant into a bigger pot. I read somewhere that, "Allowing root-bound plants to continue to grow in this fashion will not only stunt the plant’s growth, but also it can bring about the plant’s overall demise."  I was determined to not let that happen to the only plant I'd ever kept alive.

Around the same time, we got a letter from the boys' school, saying that our eldest had been chosen as a School Ambassador, and would therefore be going on an activity week in the Lake District, via a 7 hour train journey with a train change in London! As my son read me all the potentially dangerous activities he would be doing, I explained to him that I was very excited and a little bit nervous at the same time.

My mum worried a lot as I was growing up, anxious about what 'might happen', which wasn't always easy to live with. (I've checked with her that it's okay to share that, and she said it's fine because it was true, and she now lives more in the truth that "God has given her not a spirit of fear, but one of power, love and self control". 2Timothy 1v7). I think I made a decision of faith, with prayer not to be an anxious mum myself, but to trust God with the crazy risk-taking warriors he has given me. (In saying that, I recently spoke to a friend whose own mum had never cared about her at all. And humbly came to the realisation that I'd rather a mum that loved too much, than one who didn't love at all). 

I explained to my boy about the plant. And likened him to it. I said I could choose to keep him all to myself, restrict his choices, not let him take any risks, keep him safe at all times and not allow him to branch out or become independent. But in doing this, I would have to also accept that I would then have to watch him become 'pot bound', which would 'stunt his growth and lead to his overall demise'! The other option, if I wanted to see him grow into the man God wants him to be, meant that I would have to allow him to step out of the comfort of his home soil, and flourish on his own, making his own choices, and budding beautifully as a result.

It's hard sometimes to know how to get the balance right. But trusting that my kids are more loved by God than they are loved by me, allows me to trust that He has their best interests at heart. He knows what they will need to go through in order to grow and mature into the men and the woman that He has plans for. My job is to make sure their roots are healthy, that I teach them what they need to know about the gospel of Jesus, and how to live according to His ways, which has eternal consequences, not merely childhood memories. And I need to water them daily with Biblical truth and encourage them to grow in the warmth of the Son.

"When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me." 1 Corinthians 13v11

You Stink!

Yesterday, I sat on the sofa with three of my boys. I leant down and then it hit me - what was that smell? My next comment was "Boys, stop what you are doing and smell your own feet. If the smell makes you want to be sick, then you need to take your socks off and put them by the washing machine immediately". 

They were quick to obey. It's always easy to obey when it involves possible amusing gagging. The three amigos, put down their book, iPad and computer and proceeded to smell their own feet. The faces two of them pulled, were priceless. Faces of disgust as the stench made their eyes water. One of them however, just smiled a cheeky grin and said that his were okay. I said that if I smelt them, and I proceeded to feel sick or I was indeed sick on him, then he would have to come off the iPad. He had another whiff and said "they're fine by me, but I don't think you would like them". All socks were quickly put by the washing machine, in the 'pre wash' pile, and the lounge resumed a more neutral smell.

I'm realising that if you are a growing lad, you are unaware of what you smell like until someone points it out to you. Sometimes as adults we are unaware of the aroma we give off, unless a brother or sister in Christ points it out to us.


The old testament talks about the aroma, the smell of sacrifice, being pleasing to God. It isn't necessarily the smell that pleases God, but the reason behind it. God knows when we are living a life which is pleasing to Him; sacrificial and worshipful. And He knows when we are living a life which is pleasing only to our selves. 

My son was happy with the smell of his socks, until I told him it wasn't good. We get used to the things that we let into our life; the sin and the selfish choices, the habits and the comforts. They become the norm. We get comfortable with them, and it's only when someone tells you your feet stink that you notice you may need a wash. 

Have you ever asked a friend to point out when you smell? To point out when your life isn't giving off a pleasing aroma to God? I have a couple of people who will graciously tell me if I stink or if there is a faint whiff, (I mean in the spiritual sense, but I'm sure they would point out any physical issues in this area too). We all need to be able to take it, when a friend points something out to us, and grow from it. And we need to be willing to gently inform a friend whether they stink or if they are a pleasing aroma. 

"Better is open rebuke than hidden love." Proverbs 27:5 

Thankfully, God knew we stank of sin and ungodliness, and so He sent His son Jesus to wash us, to make us right with Him. He even washed his disciples' feet. That's like me actually washing my boy's bare feet after they have played in the park and run through the deposits the dogs leave. Well, when Jesus died on the cross, He took all our sin and grubbiness, and stinkiness with Him. He was the ultimate sacrifice, the ultimate pleasing aroma to God. And because He died in our place, we now have that same aroma. No matter how bad our socks smell, God can only smell the 'post wash' version.

"For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing." 2 Corinthians 2v15

Knock Knock Knocking On The Door

Last week, it was a friend of mine’s hen day. I wanted to spend as much of the celebrations with her as I could. So in order to do this, it took some epic planning on my part. If I was going to be out all day and all evening, then the little people that live with me, needed to be covered all day and all evening too.

I wanted them to have a fun day, and for it not to be too much of a task for the people watching them, so that basically meant splitting them all up. It took me an hour and twenty to drop them all off, to the wonderful willing babysitters (and their unsuspecting husbands/partners).

I got back home and beheld the first joy of the day; the house was quiet. Ahh…I breathed in the silence. The house was also a mess. The husband had left early for the stag equivalent, and I’d had to get five of them ready and out the door by 9am, which isn’t my greatest strength on a weekday, let alone on a Saturday! So a quick tidy up and then I dressed up as Minnie Mouse. I don’t normally dress up when the kids are out, but we were requested to come as Disney characters. 

After a top-quality game of Volleyball with two Pocahontases, (or is it Pocahonti if there is more than one?), and various other characters, I enjoyed a lovely afternoon; eating cake, playing games, guessing who twenty pairs of knickers were from, and I won a Whoopee cushion, a fishing net and an innuendo apron! 

Two babysitters offered a sleepover. Or at least, gave in to the request of one. So I only had three kids to pick up and settle into bed, before the last babysitter for the evening turned up. Quick release of the Minnie Mouse bunches meant I had wavy-ish hair, so a blast of hairspray, a quick outfit change, and some mascara, meant I was ready to leave again.

A lovely evening was had with the hen and the girls. I had a cocktail called Barbara, and she was a beaut! The husband text me to say there was money on the kitchen table to pay for the taxi home at midnight. And I text him back to say I'd like him to bring the money out to me, because I knew I didn't have keys.

As I arrived home in the taxi, I rang the husband. No answer. So I went and knocked on the front door. No answer. So I rang his phone again. No answer. So I knocked on the kitchen window. No answer. I smiled one of those false teethy smiles at the taxi driver. He didn’t really smile back. I knocked on the kitchen window again. No answer. I rang his phone again. No answer. I went back to the taxi driver and said how sorry I was and that I did have a husband somewhere in the house, in a ‘trying to be jokey not stressed’ tone. I did the routine again; front door, phone, window, phone. I went back to the taxi driver and asked him nicely if he could possibly, maybe, perhaps stop clocking up the money and informed him I would try round the back of the house, insisting again that there was a husband in there somewhere.

In the dark, trying to get into our back garden, I couldn’t decide whether the husband was indeed dead or work out just how to kill him. I knocked on our back door. No answer. I knocked on the lounge window. No answer. I rang his phone. No answer. I looked up and saw our bedroom window. And knew it was the only way...  I hoisted up my long dress, tested how slippery my flip flops were, and started to climb the shed up to our bedroom window. I got to the top of the shed slope, held on to the wall and my dress somehow, and knocked on the bedroom window, as loudly as I could - at midnight, after my relaxed cocktail evening, in my dress!

Eventually a man who looked like he had no idea whatsoever why someone would be knocking on his bedroom window, opened it in a startled, sleep deprived way, to a manic woman shouting something about a taxi driver and hyperventilating the words, “ANSWER YOUR PHONE. ANSWER YOUR PHONE”.

Well which Bible verse shall I link with this little gem? 

"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you"?

How about "Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come and eat with that person, and they with me"?

No, I think I'm going for the parable of the persistent widow in Luke 18. She wanted justice against her enemy. In other words she was pleading "Help me, Help me" until she got the help she was after. The encouragement here is of course to pray, and to keep on praying. I needed the husband to open the door, (or the window as it turned out), and I had to keep knocking until he heard me. 

Now God hears us the first time we pray, but He does ask us to persist in prayer, to be faithful in prayer, to climb a shed in prayer sometimes. The end goal for me was to pay the taxi driver and get into my house. If I had only knocked once and then given up, I wouldn't have been able to do these things, and I really really needed to. 

What are the things that I really really need to see God answer? And to what lengths am I willing to keep knocking for them? And what am I learning while I have to wait? 

Sit Down Next To Me

The little pink one in my house, is very good at communicating what she wants. I guess she's learnt that survival tactic very quickly living with four older brothers. Lately what she wants, is for people to come and sit next to her. She finds a little place to park herself, uses your name if she can say it, or makes some kind of holler or call, if she can't. And when she has your attention, she pats the spot next to her, gesturing for you to come and join her. It's very cute, or at least it was the first few times. But for me and one of her older brothers, it's a pretty regular occurrence.

It can be on the grass, or on the decking, on the carpet or on the bottom step, in her room or in the porch. The most amusing moments are when she doesn't quite understand spacial awareness, which is fine because she is 18months old. (I'm 36 and I don't have great spacial awareness but I am aware of the spaces where I wont fit!) She has a little spot on the kitchen windowsill, where she parks her little bum and looks for buses. She regularly asks me to join her there on the windowsill, in a space the size of a tea bag. 
The phrase "does my bum look big in this", would have a resounding "yes" from all the people passing by on the bus.

She recently sat down in the middle of the walkway, while out with her granny. She just stopped, sat down and called Granny to come back, patted the area next to her, and waited for granny to respond. And as many of us know, Grannies are wise old owls. They know a good moment that is worth their time and effort, when they see one. So down Granny sat, and looked at the boats in the marina with her.

It got me thinking about the times when I say no to her request. It inconveniences me, or I'm busy, or it's an extra effort. Maybe the washing up needs doing, or a sibling needs entertaining, or I just don't want to do it again. Legitimately there are times when no-one's bottom will fit into the space she requires you to fit in, like in her baby's cot or in her car seat. But often there is a space next to her. But I may not make space for her. 

When I do take a couple of minutes out to sit with her, it's really lovely. It's nice to stop and look at the world from her perspective and sit with her, talk to her and be with her. She puts her little hands in her lap, and is happy that you came to her, happy that you stepped into her world, happy that you gave her the time. Sometimes she babbles away. Other times, she just sits quietly content with your company, until she's finished with you and then wanders off.

I wonder how many times my Heavenly Father beckons for me to join Him. I wonder during the day, how many moments there are when He pats the space next to Him, and asks me to sit with Him, to enjoy His company, to talk with Him, to see things from His perspective or just to be still with Him. And I bet my excuses are the same...I'm busy. It inconveniences me. The washing up needs doing. The kids need my attention. I've already done it today. It's uncomfortable. I don't want to make the effort. Or it simply wont fit.

My guess is that my little pink one wont request this of me forever. And maybe Grannies know that precious little secret more than tired, rushed mummies do. Maybe tomorrow, I'll say yes a few more times to her beckoning, and maybe I'll keep an ear out for the Father, who I know is is wanting me to spend time with Him too.

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10v41

A Second Opinion

"Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it." Proverbs 22v6 

That's my opinion on raising my kids. Let's get a second opinion...

Dinner-time's finished, time for pudding and I know what's coming. Mum puts three mousses onto the table and says "Boys, who is going to be selfless and give way?" 
Same saying every day. Selflessness, selflessness, selflessness. Why do I have to? 
I wait to see if someone gives way first, and if not, then I do. I know that's not being selfless, but I'm only ten.

For years, my mum has said there's always an opportunity to give way. It's like she knows it's going to happen even before it does. But being selfless isn't easy, unless you're my brother. He always gives way. He's younger than me so I should be the one setting the examples. I struggle to not show off once I've been selfless.

Today I was selfless. I did it. Today, my dad was taking me and two of my brothers to see 'Frozen' at the cinema. I gave my ticket to my youngest brother so he could go. I felt that it was right to put my brother first. And even though I gave way, he was still crying because he wanted to make cakes.

My dad's always explaining to me that life's not fair. He says "Fair is getting punished for my own sins; but Jesus died on the cross and took the punishment for me". And that's not fair!

I wonder how long all this teaching will go on for. Probably decades or until I'm dead. I can't wait for tomorrow's dinner-time. I know what's coming.

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, 4 not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others." Philippians 2v3-4 

To The Moon And Back

One thing I'm learning from being a mum, is that the little people in your life do as you do, and they eventually even start to do as you say. I know that I am one of the biggest examples in their lives. They copy me and the husband, which can be wonderful to watch or embarrassing to witness, depending on which bit of you they decide to imitate.

One thing I teach my boys, is that if a relationship has broken down, they need to sort it out. Usually this means that they need to say sorry, or they need to forgive the person. Maybe they need to ask the other person if they're okay, or choose to love them by showing them practically. It pretty much always involves talking.

"Use your words", is a highly used phrase in this house. Along with "change your tone", and the more than occasional "get your hands out of your pants".

The thing is, sometimes I think I haven't got time to practice what I preach. The boys need to leave the house at 8:30am, so if they all do everything that needs doing at exactly the right time, in exactly the right way, everything is good and they leave on time. 
But this is a house with kids in it.... So it just doesn't happen that way!

More often than not, there is a moment which needs dealing with. I usually make sure a 'sorry' has been said. It doesn't take long to do. Either I need to be quick with mummy forgiveness, or humble enough to admit that I'm in the wrong. I don't like the boys leaving without a kiss and a hug. Sometimes we shout "I love you, I love you more, I love you most, I love you infinity.... to the moon and back, I love you a zillion" until they've walked round the corner. 

However some mornings, family harmony doesn't happen quite so well. We end up bugging each other, or the kids upset me, or I simply snap. I feel overwhelmed, or I only love them to the bottom step and back, and even that's pushing it. And there isn't time to practise what I preach. 

(There is actually always time!!) 

Last week, I had one of these moments. There was lots of nagging and shouting on my part. One of the biggest flaws in my parenting, is that I lecture them. I may well be upset with them. They may well have done something wrong. But instead of speaking into it once, I go on and on and on. (Which any male will tell you, just makes them glaze over). Anyway, it was school time, and there was "no time" to mend relationship. So I just closed the door, without a hug, a kiss or any declaration of love, even to the other side of the road, let alone a round trip to the moon. I felt sad, but in my heart I justified it because of the stress and the time and the volume of kids in my kitchen. 

As I sat with the other elders' wives a couple of hours later, I got a phone call from the school. It was a learning support assistant ringing to say that my son was upset. He had informed her about our argument, told her he was sad and explained that we hadn't sorted the problem out before he left. He knew that it did not feel good to be in a broken relationship with someone. He was unable to get on with his day so he had asked to call me. It's always fun when you teach your kids something, and then they put it into practice. And by fun, I mean humbling!

But I'm pleased that he did it. We had a chance to say sorry and put this verse into action over the phone. "Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity." Colossians 3v12-14

God calls each family to clothe themselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience, even at 8:20am. And that is not easy! But it must be possible, with His help. He asks us to bear with each family member and forgive each other. He asks us to 'put on love', as if it's an actual item of clothing. Why? Because He is clothed with compassion. He is clothed with kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. He bears with us and forgives us. And because God sent His son to die for us, so that we would no longer be in broken relationship with Him. 
He loved us to the cross and back.

Teabags & Tissue

So having a one year old is indeed a delight! Especially when it's a red-headed pink one, and you've been so very used to the blue variety. I'm getting to grips with tights under shorts and hair in bunches. I've adapted to there being a mini handbag in the house, and I'm secretly pleased to say it usually has a car or two in it, as well as a puppy of course.

She's a busy little bee, which seems to involve her mainly tipping stuff out and tipping stuff in. She opens the cupboards, and has her own little sort out. Much more than the boys ever did. She thinks the Tupperware looks much better if she tips the Soy Sauce in it. She thinks the Weetabix is better placed in the lounge. The tea bags taste better once spread out over the floor and the contents of the bin look better in the bath. She's discovered that her shoes turn a darker shade of purple once they've been down the loo. The toilet tissue should be released from the captivity of the loo roll, and the wet wipes should definitely not be imprisoned in the packet. Socks shouldn't be kept on feet and she gets a much better view of the DVDs, when they're in the washing machine. Yesterday she decided that she would prefer our green stair carpet to be yellow, so she added a hint of mustard powder. Of course, the best time for her to do any of the above is when I'm already late and about to rush out the door. 

I get lulled into that false sense of security; The boys are at school and the little redheaded one is quietly busy, so I try to fit in a quick job before I head out. I'm a mother of five children. I should know better. Yes there are moments when quiet equals calm, and these moments are like gold dust. But the house dust to gold dust ratio in this house, is a million to one. Most quiet moments in this house mean that intrigue has set in and therefore house wrecking will commence. I seem to wander around after her, clearing up her discoveries. Or I leave it 'til I get back in later, at which point I've usually collected the boys and forgotten about the random mess, which the husband then finds and wonders and what point during the day we were in fact burgled.

I can get a bit frustrated with all of this at times, even though it's simply just the developmental stage she is in. I know that she is just growing and working it all out for herself. But when you're not the tidiest person anyway, this just adds to an already slightly chaotic house. 

Sometimes she even asks me for help with the mess she's making, unaware of my day and my plans. This is where it's encouraging for me to remind myself that I'm God's daughter. After all, I find myself asking Him for help, even when I've stepped out of His purposes for my life, and I'm trying to work things out for myself. He watches me make a mess of this and a mess of that, making my own choices as I go. The difference with my mess and my baby girl's mess is so vast. Yes, tea bags on the floor take a bit of time to pick up, and yes rolls of ripped up tissue is a bit of a hassle to sort out. 
But my mess, my sin, is a vile stench to God. 

In every moment where I have not chosen His way, for every time I have been self seeking, and in every way that I have disobeyed Him, it all piles up into a hideous mess which I am unable to clear up. It didn't take an extra once over with the hoover, to clear up my mess. Instead He cleared up all my sin, by coming into the midst of it Himself. He gave up His only son to die a painful death on the cross for me. This is the only way I could receive His forgiveness. It always puts my frustrations into perspective, as I remember how wonderfully patient God is with me. How available He is to me too, to come right into the middle of it all. Maybe I should ask Him for His help with the things He has planned for me, and patience for the daily frustrations I face. And maybe I should sit down in the midst of the teabags and the tissue, and be as patient with the gorgeous red-headed one, as my Father is with me.

“Come now, let us settle the matter,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool." Isaiah 1v18

Love Is...Specific

Now in asking God to help me to love my kids, I realised it was a prayer which required me to be active. Like when you ask God to help you be more patient, He may not just throw patience at you, or send it in the post. He may well allow you to go through something which requires you to rely on Him for more help, to trust Him with His timing and His way of doing things and along the way, ask you to make godly, patient choices. Well, if I was going to actively love them, I needed to do something about it, not just wait for the courier to bring a heart shaped packet of love to my door.

So I considered how I could love my kids. I knew it wasn't to be a general act of love, but an individual one. Loving them specifically takes more thought usually. It has dawned on the husband lately, that when he buys me flowers, I usually thank him, and then put them on the table. He then does what needs to happen to flowers so they don't die, and I find them in a vase. But when the husband buys me earrings, ooh that's different, then they go straight in and I mention them all the time. I'm definitely more of an earrings girl than a flowers girl. So I know the husband has thought about me when he's picked up a pair for me! 

I started with the one who had actually taken himself to bed, probably in an attempt to rid himself of boredom, and maybe even with the hope that his mum would chill out a bit. Now this particular boy got a couple of balls of string for Christmas! Yep, big spenders in this house. He loves string. I think it's a boy thing; string brings out the survival instinct. He can tie stuff up and set traps. Perfect if you have brothers. Anyway £1.99 always well spent, with a ball of string. 

I found a cheap bar of white chocolate in the snack drawer and attached some string to it. At the other end of the piece of string, I added a note saying, "pull this string". I snuck the note over his door, and then unravelled the string round the top of the house. Another son came up and asked what I was doing. I quietly explained, and then had to deal with the grumpy face and crossed arms of a child who didn't think it was fair for him to not have his own bar of white chocolate, attached to his own piece of string. I hoped that the gentle reminder that 'we don't do fair in this house', would be a wonderful prompt for him, to be delighted for his brother, but alas, the grumpy one was not delighted in the slightest. And of course, in making his undelightedness clear to me, my string loving boy woke up. 

I ignored the grumpy one for a moment and watched the other one pull at the note. His smile as he received his treasure, was worth the scowls from the other one. I told him I had been a bit grumpy with him, and that I wanted to show my love to him. He appreciated it and scoffed his chocolate, with an offer of a square to the heavy eyebrowed one. 

As I went back downstairs, one of my boys was looking through the Lego, in search of the tiny round, single colourful bits. He had no reason for his search, but he wanted them. So in an attempt to actively love him, I tipped the whole box of Lego out, to his surprise and possible concern, and we looked together. Well, I say together, but after about 3 minutes he had found something else in the Lego box and he was off. I pointed out to him that I had lovingly tipped the whole box out in order to help him, and after having a bit of a whinge at him, about how loving I had been, I proceeded to find the bits on my own, and scoop all the Lego back in the box. 

Humbled again by my mixed motives, my expectations, and the reality of life as a mum, I pondered on God's love for me. His amazing act of love; sending His son Jesus, to die on the cross, was a general act. He did that for every single person. He did it for us all. He also loved every single person enough to let them choose or reject His son and the cross. But yet I know it was also an individual act of love for me. He knows that we 'all' need His love and forgiveness. But He knows that I need it too. He knows how to individually love me, as if I am His child, because of course, I am His child. He knows if we like string or Lego. He knows when we think it's unfair. He knows what it is to do it all for us. He knows what flavour chocolate we like. He knows how to love me, because He is my Father. I am His child. His love for me is specific. I need to dwell in it more. 

 “As the Father has loved me, so I (Jesus) have loved you. Now remain in my love."

John 15v9