toddlers, tantrums & oceans of grace

I've posted before about Sunny's special bedtime song--Hillsong's "Oceans." 

I sing the chorus to her every single night, which is always welcomed because Sunny and I often exist in somewhat of a rocky sea full of unpredictable weather and all that comes along with that.

But singing "waves," as she calls it, and holding her as she holds me, both of us exhausted; has proven to be the very best way to end the day.

Many a mommy tear has been shed to the singing of "waves" while I brush the wild curls away from her soft little forehead.

Typically, when she has bad days, WE have bad days. And those days are seemingly full of time-outs and temper tantrums and power struggles and regrets and lost patience and just, well, the terrible two's toddler type of turmoil.

But then at the end of the day, I hold her tired little body, warm and sweet smelling from her bath, in my arms and I rock and sing:

"I will call upon your name, 

keep my eyes above the waves, 

when oceans rise my soul will rest in your embrace, 

for I am yours and you are mine..."

over and over and over.

And then I lay her sleeping body in her bed, cover her up, give her a kiss and creep out of the room,

with my eyes above the waves.

It's not just a verse to the chorus of a song, it's a plea:

keep my eyes above the waves...

I'm not telling Jesus "hey, I got this."

I am asking, begging Him, to KEEP my eyes above the waves.

Maybe today you feel like you are sinking.

Like you can't tread in the thrashing waves any longer.

You feel forgotten and beaten down and hopeless.

Maybe it's a stressful work situation, maybe it's finances, maybe it's a broken relationship, maybe it's motherhood, maybe it's your health or the health of a loved one that you feel is pulling you under.

Whatever waves you feel are enveloping you,

Look up. 

He is there, keeping you afloat.

We can't see Him.

Sometimes we can feel Him and other times we can't--and when we can't, we feel alone and scared.

But He is there, IN those waves with us, and if we stop panicking and listen we can hear Him whispering:

"do not be afraid--I am here with you."

It's in those places; in those dark and quiet bedrooms and nurseries where we rock our sleeping children back and forth, back and forth, on the waves of that churning sea with exhausted tears of love of the most unconditional kind rolling down our cheeks, that we find rest. 

The tide may toss and turn, but we rock and sing and cry to that unforced rhythm of grace and lift our eyes up, up, up over the waves that we were MADE to rise above.

You are strong, you are brave, and you are LOVED.

Mommy, meet my Jesus: What I am learning about faith from my preschooler

One of the most sacred things that I get to do as a parent is teach my babies about Jesus.

In partnership with my believing extended family and our church family and things like Christian radio and other media it has been so fun to see their faith develop and begin to unfold.

I love what they are learning and picking up on and even questioning.

When I hear them belting out a worship song that they learned in church or heard on the radio I feel like I can literally feel Jesus smiling down upon them.

Hearing your children pray and sing out to Jesus is one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard--even if the words are jumbled and it's completely off-tune and parts of the chorus are skipped or repeated over and over a hundred times.

It is a symphony to heaven. 

And as my Mama heart watches from the front row, 

it is their worship that teaches me. 

...

Kai is currently in a "is Jesus bigger/stronger/taller/deeper/etc." question asking phase.

It's awesome.

Here are a couple of recent examples:

On the ferris wheel with Sunny a few weeks ago as we are stopped at the very top:

"Mommy, is Jesus higher than this ferris wheel?" 

At the very top loading dock of the tram at OHSU two weekends ago:

"Mommy, can Jesus stretch higher than this tram?" 

Swinging in the "high" swings at one of the parks we frequent:

"is Jesus higher than THIS?" 

"Than THIS?!"

In the middle of one of the thunderstorms we've had here lately (that are awesome, by the way):

"Is Jesus bigger than that thunder?" "Is he LOUDER than that thunder?"

He knows the answer to all of these questions. I answer him just about the same every time:

"Yep, buddy, He sure is--isn't that awesome?!"

It's like when his senses are are exhilarated by heights or speed or sound He immediately sizes it up to Jesus. I don't know where he learned how to do this, but he's teaching me so much.

When I'm feeling overwhelmed or like things are sky high and out of my reach, I need to measure whatever problem that I feel is too big up to Jesus.

Because no matter what, Jesus IS always bigger. 

...

I die a little bit every night when it's Kai and Sunny's "turn" to talk to Jesus. I don't make them pray, but I always give them the opportunity to talk to Jesus after I have. Most nights, they take it, and I feel like I'm left either holding back tears or holding back laughter. Usually both.

Kai likes routine and often says the same thing:

Jesus help me not have that one bad dream, and that other bad dream and that other bad dream and the rest of those bad dreams. And help me not to drown in Nana's pool. And thank you for [usually something that we did that day like the park or riding bikes with a friend or eating pizza].

Sunny's are adorable. I usually ask her if she wants to "thank Jesus for anything?"

And she thanks Him for things (mostly toys and food) like:

my green turtle in the bathtub and my favorite purple spoon and for Honey and my little red frog that jumps and jumps and jumps...

They also ask for prayer for their "owies."

Just yesterday we were at the park and Kai bonked the back of His head. He wasn't crying but was holding it in and on the verge when he came over to me. I offered to kiss it and after I did he said "now can you pray for Jesus to heal it?" So I did. Right there in the middle of that busy park. And after I said "amen" he just turned around and ran back to his friends. The older couple on the bench right next to me sure got a kick out of the whole thing.

I want faith like that. When something is hurting me--whether it be physical or emotional, I want to run straight to Jesus, confident in His healing peace and love. He should be the first to hear about my worries--but all too often it's everybody else who hears about them and THEN I take them to God.

Kai knows better.

"Phillie (dog) in heaven with Jesus" By: Kai

...

And then there are all of the hundreds of questions about heaven.

The one I get most often is, "but Mommy, how will we get there?" But then there are many other questions like, "In heaven, will we have chocolate?" and "In heaven will there be a swimming pool?" and "Will we have soft beds, in heaven, to sleep on?"

The idea of "Heaven," for most, is hard to grasp.

Kai's eyes light up when we talk about it and he is anticipating getting to spend forever there--with all of his favorite things, of course.

I want to be heavenly minded in the way that my son is.

I want to long to spend eternity there with Jesus, and daydream about how wonderful it will be.

...

Formulating answers to their sometimes non-stop firing of questions about Jesus and heaven and angels and prayer and healing has given me more perspective and depth to my own faith.

I need to "think" less and do more singing with joy at the top of my lungs 

(like even in busy shopping mall dressing rooms).

I need to daily, hourly, moment-by-moment acknowledge that Jesus is 

ALWAYS BIGGER THAN IT ALL.

I need to lift my eyes, with joy and anticipation, toward heaven 

and pray with the faith of my four-year old. 

Thanks, buddy boy, for growing with me.