Fight the Good Fight

I am a mum of boys. I have been a mum of boys for nearly eleven years. I love boys. They rock. I appreciate their strengths; (although I'm generalising, and many girls hold these qualities too)... I like their sense of adventure, their self confidence, their feeling of invincibility, and their need to discover and to work things out. I like how they strive to do better than their last attempt, I like their respect for goodies and baddies. I like their boldness and how they laugh at inappropriate things. And I've come to expect, if not totally understand their need for nakedness and shooting stuff. 

Very early on in my mothering journey, I came to realise just how physical boys are. And with the subsequent arrival of more boys in my life, that realisation just grew and grew. If they need to get from A to B, they see no need to just walk the route. They run, they climb, they 'Kapow' and 'Whoosh'. They jump onto, and into, and off of, anything. They drape and hang themselves; off of the sofa, off of the banister, off of me, off of anything actually. Recently my mum arrived, to one of her grandsons hanging upside down from a high tree branch, with a breezy "hello nanny". 

And then there's the physical relationship they have with each other. The bundles, the trip ups, the pinches, the wedgies, the punches, the grabs, the headlocks, the noogies, the kicks, the jumping on each other, and the outright fights. This is the bit I have learnt to expect and overlook, but not necessarily understand. I, like any little sister, enjoyed the odd pinch under my brother's arm, with the retaliation of a wet tea-towel whipping, but the constant desire to hurt one another, is a bit beyond me. And it really is constant. Neither does any of it mean that they don't like each other either. Apparently it's just in-built, and maybe even a sign of affection for one another. Sure you have to comment on some power plays or when one is more involved than the other, or when the angry face comes out. But most of the time, I just walk away, perhaps with a casual warning that I'm in the kitchen if anyone gets hurt. 

And they do get hurt, and sorrys are said. But when asked if the victim would like me to stop the game altogether, they often answer no and run back into it, topless and smiling, with fresh vigour. The testosterone build up after said bundle, means they struggle to just stop and calm it all afterwards...I've learnt that the 'cooling down' bit takes a bit of time and often some separation from each other. 'Tis all but a mystery to this mum. 

On a recent family trip to London, I decided to not comment on any rough, physical play. I left it to the husband and just took pictures of them instead. It was very releasing...well for me anyway! They can't help themselves...Any quiet moment, any waiting, any queueing, any standing near each other, any sitting next to each other...they're just like magnets drawn to each other, drawn to fight one another. (And the husband can't help but join in too). I was comforted by a French family in the museum queue. The little girl was reading the information booklet, while her two brothers grappled with each other. Their mum seemed to be ignoring them too. I felt like we were soul sisters. Maybe I should have hugged her...


So what's my point? I'm not sure I even have one, apart from to reach out to all mums of boys and say "I know. It's OK. They're normal. Keep going. Just train them in what is worth fighting for".

"But you, man of God, flee from all this, and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith."
1 Timothy 6v11

Be The Good Girl You Always Have To Be

So Christmas has been and gone. In our house, Christmas has been with us since the middle of October. I led a Christmas small group for ten weeks. We made Festive Wreathes, made and decorated Christmas cakes, went ice skating, stole presents from one another, drank Mulled Wine and generally stretched out the festive season for as long as we possibly could. It was hectic but a lot of fun, and the odd Christmas jumper or pair of earrings accompanied us along the way.

Two lyrical observations popped up for me over the Christmas period. The princess in our house got given the Frozen DVD, and so the household has been singing "Let it go" quite a lot. Although, the phrase has been a regular feature anyway, whenever someone is told to just 'let it go'... it usually starts the theatrical number off, which changes the mood of the house quite quickly. One could say it breaks the ice. But now we have the DVD and the dress so the frequency has naturally doubled. 

Elsa is of course, quite badly advised by her parents to keep her worries and fears to herself, to 'conceal it' rather than 'feel it'. This is an interesting parenting technique. Teaching your kids to bottle everything up, and not let anyone in, can only result in a breakdown at some point, resulting in the creation of a terrifying ice monster and a dramatic hair & dress makeover. I guess the King & Queen of Arendelle were parenting out of fear and anxiety, which all of us parents can relate to on some level. 

Elsa was also told to 'be the good girl she always has to be'. This leads me on to a carol I sang just before Christmastime. Once in Royal David's City, holds the lyrics 'Christian children all must be...Mild, obedient, good as He'. I looked at the husband at this point, but he did a very good job of ignoring me, and continued singing with gusto. Now I think as parents, we should definitely aim for excellence for our kids, and for ourselves. But just to be told to 'be good' doesn't help anyone. And it's the highest expectation ever. God Himself is good. He is Holy. He is something completely 'other' to us. To be fair, the song from the 1800s, does point us to follow Jesus' example and if Elsa's parents had done the same, the Disney classic may not have been a huge hit, and the story itself would have been pretty short, with less theatrical singing moments and no merchandise to get sucked into.

The most wonderful thing about God's standard of goodness, is that He knew we wouldn't be able to attain it. He knew we needed His help to be good. And He sent His son to rescue us from all the bad we get caught up in. Sometimes I forget this when I'm parenting. I want the kids to just be good, because it's easier for me. Sometimes it's an inconvenience to stop and train their hearts rather than their behaviour. Sometimes, I haven't got time to stop and be a godly example, I just want them to be the good kids they always have to be. Then I'm reminded of my Heavenly Father's patience towards me. He always has the time to train my heart, and to show me His love and His grace when I get it wrong. 

Do not remember the sins of my youth

    and my rebellious ways;

according to your love remember me,

    for you, Lord, are good.

8 

Good and upright is the Lord;

    therefore he instructs sinners in his ways.

9 

He guides the humble in what is right

    and teaches them his way.

Psalm 25v7-9

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