The Husband

Ten years ago, I walked down the aisle on my dad's arm, to a young fresh faced set of brothers. One was the best man;  my best friend from my youth  and one was his younger brother....the husband. And although he looked like he could have been a page boy rather than the groom, the adventure started there....

We got married in his last year of university and lived  in a cosy one bedroom flat, where we had our first boy 17 months later. At this point we lived on a small wage, as the husband volunteered for the church. A small wage and a huge provision from God. We learnt a lot that year about faith in a faithful God, and trusting Him wholeheartedly. Eight and a half years later, three more boys, a stint in emergency accommodation, a lot of old cars, bidding for our now nearly finished  house, leading a church in a racecourse, and being pregnant again is where we find ourselves today.

And today, I look back and I look forward with a grateful heart. The husband is and never has been perfect, he has never claimed to be. Not perfect, but definitely unique and definitely perfect for me. I don't know anyone else like him; he sings all of the time and often at me, whether I'm in the mood to hear it or not. He makes me laugh so much, not quite as much as I make him laugh, but that's the way it is and that's the way it shall forever be. He arranges meetings in his sleep and talks to me as if I should be awake. We have arrived at a church conference on the back of a pick up truck and we drove to Newday in a prop; yep that's the one God gave me!

He is a pioneer, an adventurer, a risk taker...dragging us all along for the ride. He's quicker than me to say sorry and quicker to forgive too. He serves and loves and cares for me, and for my boys and for those around him. He says things he just shouldn't say, he can't cook and he is known to eat frozen chocolate. 

He aims to love me in the same way Christ loves the church. It's a good aim, and I like it. Even when he misses, it's still a good aim to have. There have been definite times when we have both 'chosen to love' rather than it being about feelings, otherwise you just strangle each other. The husband's love for me, on the good days and the not so good days, points me back to Jesus. I know that Jesus alone is the one who is completely perfect, completely faithful, completely understanding and has completely laid His life down for me. 

So today on my tenth wedding anniversary, I want to thank for God His gift to me - the husband, my husband. I know of some not great husbands and some absent husbands. I know what a blessing it is to have one that not only sticks through thick and thin, but one who loves me, supports me, leads me and points me back to Jesus' unconditional husband love.

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above..." James 1v17

It's a Celebration

For my birthday, I was given a box of Celebration chocolates by a friend of mine. Mostly a good range of chocolates, apart from the Milky Way ones which tend to get left at the bottom of the box, until the day when there's no other chocolate in the house so they'll have to do.

I put the box of chocolates in the middle of the lounge floor, next to some pens and paper and sat down. It didn't take long for curious little eyes and curious little little minds to engage in this sudden mysterious mummy act. One by one, they came and joined me on the lounge floor, even turning the tele off completely unprompted. "Is it a game?" "Are you gonna share them?" "Ooh, I like that one!" "What you doing mum?" came the questions, with some excited giggles and bottom wriggling.

I read them these verses; 
"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." 1 Thessalonians 5v11

"Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing." Philippians 4v8

I told them that we were going to encourage one another and build each other up, by focussing on whatever was lovely and admirable about each other. We were going to take turns to choose one person, write something true, encouraging and good about that person and celebrate who they were by giving them a chocolate. After the barrage of questions, which basically were different versions of "Do I get to eat some chocolate?", we began our little exercise in putting the bible into yummy practise. For about ten minutes, my boys honoured one another, the bible was taught and chocolate was eaten! A good day's work in Mummyville really.

Mummyville

So only a couple of wonderings over the summer...I wonder why?! Could it be those long, sunny and rainy summer holidays? The weeks of having a million children in my house? (Well actually only four, but it felt like more). The endless questions; 'Are trees made of paper?', 'Where do babies come out?' The fun activities? The camping? Newday? The beaches? The picnics? The Olympics? And the brain numbing hours tuned into the Cbeebies channel? Yeah that might be why I haven't sat down to write for a little while. Some wonderings have definitely gone through my head, but they have not made it out the other end, and they have definitely not made it into the written form. They have instead stayed locked up in a place called 'Mummyville'.

'Mummyville' is a strange old habitat indeed. It's a bit like living in Dr Seuss world. The Cat in the Hat is a favourite Dr Seuss character in our house, and I relate to him. He uses lots of words and rhymes and ramblings all at once, whilst juggling many things including a fish in a bowl and he does it all while balancing on a ball. He also has Thing one and Thing Two constantly by his side. I feel his pain, and he does have a lot of fun along the way!

You can't live in 'Mummyville' all the time. You have to take a vacation from it, just for a few minutes at least, to keep your sanity. Most mums try to step out of 'Mummyville' for a minute or two, by locking themselves in the toilet. But even then, the vacation isn't guaranteed. Little people come knocking, or they're even more intrusive than that.

Longer moments holidaying from 'Mummyville' are recommended in order to serve us mums, and help us to go a little less insane. That is why the summer holidays are a dangerous time indeed, as these much needed moments are few and far between.
If mums live in this strange old habitat for too long, like a period of six weeks say, they become ever so tired and delusional and are in deep need of a thing called...rest.

I heard a preach last week which covered resting; perfect, just what I needed. The guy said that not only do we need to rest, but that we need to recharge as well. I was all for hearing a preach about resting, and even quoting it to the husband in order to get a lie in, but the recharge bit I hadn't necessarily thought about.

He said we needed to be like David in 1Samuel 30, who "strengthened himself in the Lord, his God". It is true we need to"lie down in green pastures" like Psalm 23 says, but we also need God to "restore our souls". This really struck me and I prayed with a friend about it after our church service. She encouraged me the next day with an email recounting her crazy morning, where she wanted to crawl back into bed, but instead she chose to listen to some worship music on the way to work and she had felt her soul being restored.

So, I put the fish bowl down for a minute and got off of the ball. I stepped out of 'Mummyville' for a moment and opened the Bible. I allowed it to restore my soul and I put worship music on. Such wonderful truths I read, I felt blessed and plugged in and recharged before stepping back on the ball and picking up the fish bowl once more.

Yawn....

Last week, I seemed to reach new levels of tiredness. I think it was the combination of a few things; the summer holidays with the four boys, planned outings and fun activities, the relentlessness of parenting, the husband being pretty much unavailable due to prepping for a youth camp and me being six months pregnant! Combined, they all joined together to have a slightly mental effect on me.

I shed a few manic tears and laughed a few manic laughs, 'phoned a friend' rather than 'asked the audience' (the four boys) for advice and support. I ate chocolate to boost my energy levels and I shed a few tears. Oh, I said that one already. I have been like the mother from some kind of weird movie; my character is the lovable baddie who looks a little zombiefied. She shouts a little bit and says sorry, cries a little bit and then laughs a little bit. Occasionally she remembers to feed the other characters in the film, while cheering on a random Brit in the Olympics, only to cry a little more when the unknown person wins a medal in Judo or weightlifting. Probably not the best script for a film, but some may relate to the withered character taking centre stage...

And somewhere in the middle of it all, I built a den, put on a DVD, made a strong cuppa and opened the Bible. I read Ephesians 3v14-21 and dwelled on verse sixteen. 

"...that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being..."

Because God is rich in Glory, I can ask Him to grant me to be strengthened with power in my inner being. Wow! I definitely needed my inner being to be strengthened. And this verse seemed to suggest that I actually can be. Of course it made me cry again, but this time out of relief and understanding and renewed hope in a God who loves me and wants to strengthen me. I sang a tearful version of 'On Christ the solid rock I stand' with verse three in particular.

"His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the 'whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay."

And I was reassured once more that God is my hope, no matter how tired I am, or how manic it all gets. His faithfulness remains the same forever, and He loves me in the midst of it all. The tiredness didn't suddenly get replaced with the 'Red Bull Effect', but my inner being was indeed strengthened.

 

A Time for Everything

The Summer Holidays, what a range of experiences and emotions they hold. People ask "How's your break going?", and some aspects are definitely a break from the norm. I'm naturally unorganised, so I hate the pressure that the school run adds to my life. Whereas getting up, putting the kettle on, allowing my eyes time to focus, and then sitting in my pjs is a sheer delight to me.

But then having some space while three are at school, means the house gets tidied and cleaned a lot more and there are moments where my mind doesn't have to think. It can actually be empty. Whereas having them all here, the toilets need cleaning as soon as I've cleaned them, and within seconds of hoovering there is another trail of sand and woodlice all over the carpet. My mind is constantly full, constantly whirring; answering life's questions, wondering where all the boys are, questioning why it's quiet, being ready with responses to the 'I'm bored' statements and planning ahead. And there are definitely more 'Brotherly Love' moments to speak peace into.


I absolutely love the school holidays, planning fun activities; sleepovers, junk modelling, bus trips, beach visits, Nerf wars and water fights but I'm reminded too that parenting is absolutely relentless, and biblical parenting seems even more so as it's a training of their hearts not their behaviour. I guess there is a time for everything, a season for every activity, and always an opportunity to teach. Here's an adaption of Ecclesiastes...

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time for school runs and a time for chilled mornings,
a time for book bags and a time for cbeebies,
a time for uniform and a time for pyjamas,
a time for packed lunches and a time for picnics,
a time for educational teaching and a time for biblical training,
a time for wellies and a time for sun cream,
a time for 6hrs respite during school days and a time for 13hr long holiday days,
a time to get a late mark and a time when it just doesn’t matter,
a time for P.E and a time to climb trees,
a time to sit still and a time to run free,
a time to look smart and a time to look like a lost boy,
a time to eat at lunch and a time to graze all day,
a time for learning and a time for learning

a time for school friends and a time for brothers.

"Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up"  Deuteronomy 11v18-19

An Apple A Day

We have been reading through Matthew with the boys. Just a few verses at a time, over breakfast. Some hugely successful mornings where a seed of truth has landed in their minds and brought challenge or encouragement, and some mornings where it felt as clear as if we had read a Dr Seuss tongue twister with them. We have been reading from the sermon on the mount in Chapter five, and because we've only covered a few verses a day, the boys do feel as if Jesus has been up that mountain for a rather long time explaining how people should live.

One day this week, we looked at 'A Tree and it's Fruit'. The husband asked us all if we could be any fruit-bearing tree, what one would we be. I fancied being a cherry tree. Banana, apple, mango and see-weed trees were also thrown into the mix. The husband read these verses and then chatted about what 'good fruit' might look like.

"So, every healthy tree bears good fruit, but the diseased tree bears bad fruit. A healthy tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a diseased tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus you will recognise them by their fruits." Matthew 7:17-20

We had written down a Summer Holiday 'To do' and 'To be' list, and the husband focused on the 'To be' part of the list; be kind, be generous, be honouring, be forgiving, be obedient, be loving etc. The husband explainined that these were 'good fruits' and that each one of them pointed to who Jesus is. The husband explained that neither the boys nor us parents could grow this fruit without God's help, so we had to choose one or two to ask God for. These moments can be pretty challenging because the boys hear what you're asking God for; 'patience' and to be a 'good example' in this instance!

When I went to the shop later in the day, one of my boys was too silly, disobedient and generally just hard work. I explained when we got in, that his behaviour was like growing rotten, smelly, gone-off fruit, and reminded him about what we had learnt in the morning. This little chat had a great impact on him. He had prayed at breakfast, for wisdom (making good choices) and God's help to be a good example, and he put these into practise. By the time his dad got home, he had grown some beautiful, fresh, healthy fruit . He led his younger brother well, being an example to him, he obeyed straight away, he didn't tantrum and he made good choices. He was able to share with his dad the different types of fruit he had grown that day.

I thought about this and realised that I am also able to share with my Heavenly Dad, what fruit I grow each day. I'm able to say sorry to Him for when I grow stinky, rotten, gone-off fruit, the ones I find at the bottom of the bowl. Usually I grow this fruit when I've decided I'm going to be an angry or an impatient tree! (I feel like I'm in Drama class now!)

I also know that He sees the good fruit which He has helped me to grow, maybe the kind of fruit that others don't necessarily see. Or maybe they do see, and it causes them to ask about the great gardener I know and how he plants seeds and causes growth and sometimes has to painfully prune the tree too, in order for good fruit to grow. I really don't want to grow rotten fruit, but without God, His word and His help, that is all I'll grow. Might need to go and check what's at the bottom of our fruit bowl.

Help, I Need Somebody

There are those wonderful times as a mum, where you find yourself throwing up in the toilet, and you still have to be mum. This was my experience last Sunday morning. We were all dressed and ready to get the bus to church, when I suddenly felt a bit funny in the tummy. I ended up locking myself in the loo and being sick.

My youngest serenaded me outside the door, with his new guitar which in itself was a joy. I had to try and shout to my eldest that I needed help, and he needed to get my phone off his brother. My other son wouldn't give the phone to his older brother, because he was playing a game on it.

From the bathroom, I had to explain why the phone was needed and why now wasn't a great time to argue. My boy, without a phone to distract him now decided to bug his guitar-playing brother, so there were screams coming from him. I shouted through the door something about being helpful, and the guitar serenade picked up again.

My eldest decided ringing dad was the best option, and usually he'd be right, but not when he's leading church. So through the door, I told him not to ring his dad. He then went for the 'Uncle Paul' option, which again on a normal day would have been a good choice. I was struggling to think straight, but knew that Uncle Paul may well be on church set up, so that wouldn't be great either. I told him to ring one of the ladies from the girl's house. He tried our friend Hannah, but it kept going to answer phone. My son was still convinced that Uncle Paul was his best option, and left slightly confusing messages on Hannah's answer phone saying this. With my tummy hurting and the tears wanting to fall, I said he should try one of the other ladies, Yvonne. I thought we were on the home stretch now, but my son came back to the closed door saying he couldn't spell Yvonne. It was hard to hear him over the guitar, but I managed to spell out her name.

I finally heard my eldest boy say, "My mum is sick and this house needs help". And I was relieved. I knew that help would come, because the ladies in that house, are just those kind of ladies. Five minutes later, the front door was opened to a Hannah and an Yvonne. I finally came out of the loo and burst out crying. A text on my phone came through, it was Psalm 46v1;

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble".

How true this verse is, and how present His help was to me in this moment. I was ushered up to bed, given a sick bowl and a drink, prayed for and the house fell silent as the boys were taken off to church. I was very grateful for God's help in the midst of trouble, and a refuge of sleep.