Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

broadening our horizons

Our culture doesn't look upon a woman staying at home as "broadening her horizons." But G.K. Chesterton does:
Women were not kept at home in order to keep them narrow; on the contrary, they were kept at home in order to keep them broad.
He explains that a homemaker is not expected to excel at every thing she sets her hand to, but to give each her all.

Carolyn Mahaney adds:
...let’s embrace the “larger plan” ordained by our Creator. Let’s not worry about being the best, but eagerly give our all to the broad calling of serving in the home.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Ashleigh: The Wife of a Deployed Soldier

Ashleigh wrote a sweet post over at Rocks In My Dryer I wanted to point you all to: What I'd Like for You to Know

Monday, July 07, 2008

Be Still

It had been "one of those" mornings.

It was the middle of December--Christmastime. Things were crazy. Everything from the past two months seemed to have hit me that day--my newborn, my husband's surgery, a trip to Colorado, Christmas preparations, and a deployment date looming in the near future. This particular day was filled with a million little things, and I felt I was hanging by a thread.

In the late afternoon, I finally managed to find a moment to take a shower. I thought if I could just take a quick hot shower, it would wash away the craziness of the day and all would be fine. An hour passed, and between several phone calls and door-bell rings, I still wasn't in the shower.
A harried mess. That's what I was. I sat Troy down in my bedroom with a stack of books and a couple toys, put 6-week-old Merritt in his bouncy seat, and hopped in the shower.

But, unlike my expectations, the stress didn't wash away with the water. I could only feel the tension in my heart building as I ran my long to-do list through my head. I could hear the ringing of the phone--again. The baby was beginning to get fussy and Troy was tired of looking at books. It had been all of two minutes.

I pushed my hair under the stream of water, letting it rinse the shampoo out of my hair. As I wiped the water beads out of my eyes, I heard it.

Be still.

Gently the words came. I pushed them out of my head, trying to focus on the days, weeks ahead of me. There was so much to think about, plan for, keep straight in my head. How desperately I wished time could stop and give me a week to catch up. It was all just so much and I...

Be still.

So softly, that Voice spoke directly to my heart.

Lord, don't be ridiculous. Be still? Now? Not happening.

I heard the baby crying with all his might. Hurry. Rinse out the conditioner. This shower had taken long enough. Next on the list? Get dinner started and then I'd have to hurry...

Be still. Quiet your heart. Know I am God.

I sighed aloud. Okay, Lord. Okay. Quiet my heart. I've made a note of it and I'll be sure to do that. Maybe once the kids are in bed. Or something.

That still, small voice is persistent. Our little back-and-forth continued as I finished up my shower and went about getting ready.

Be still, and know that I am God.

Lord, my heart replied. I already do know you are God. Of course I do.

Be still, and know that I am God. Quiet your heart before me.

~*~

This evening, things were completely chaotic in our house. What was really only about thirty minutes felt like days.

We were on our way to our church's annual mission's dinner. I had made food, was scheduled to work in the nursery for the service after the dinner, and was hoping to catch some of the amazing man, Don Sisk's, preaching through the television screen in the nursery.

But my reality at that moment wasn't so rosy. Both boys were crying. This was not just fussiness or whimpering. Troy was sobbing as if his life was ending. Merritt was screaming with everything in him.

I was beside myself.

I hurried them both along. I tossed brownies on a plate. I ran in my heels to fill diaper bags. I replaced the binky. I consoled. I held. I got impatient and spoke too harshly. I walked into the kitchen, away from the boys and let out a long at-my-wit's-end-again groan. I put the baby in his carseat, directed Troy to the door, slung my purse and the diaper bag over a shoulder and picked up my plate of brownies, nearly forgetting to grab my Bible with that extra hand I don't have.

And then I heard it in my heart, always so soft and gentle.

Be still.

I was frustrated. Lord, this is NOT the time. I don't have a second for stillness right now. This is crazy. I feel like I'm falling apart. I don't even know what I was thinking in imagining I could go to this dinner on my own with the boys.

I locked the front door.

Be still, and know that I am God.

Lord, please, please... what are you trying to tell me? I DO know You are God. You know I can't be still right now. I don't understand.

My Jesus is so loving. You know I'm God? Do you really know I'm God? If you know I'm God, you know I'm capable of handling all of this. You know this moment would be better if you placed it in my hands. You know I will fill you with My perfect strength in this moment of weakness. Quiet your heart before Me. Be still, and know that I am God.

I was stopped at a red light. I closed my eyes. This wasn't a mere suggestion. It was a command.

Be still. Know I am God.

The boys were still crying. I told myself to never again try to pack so much in one long day.

I don't feel it, Lord. I don't feel quiet or still. But I do want to truly know you are God. Please let me see You in this moment, Jesus.

Are you weary tonight? I am. Are you frazzled or is your heart troubled? To say that there is ever time for real stillness in the life of a woman is nearly laughable.

And yet, He whispers...

Be still.

Know that I am God.

Until we're still... until our hearts are quieted before Him... until we stop waiting for things to slow down before really looking into His face... until we obey His command to be still, even when there is no stillness in sight, we can never expect to fully know He is God.

Be still.

- by Ashleigh Baker

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

The Domestic Monastery

I have a husband who is sick and a little girl who sounds sniffly.  I was hoping to go to the church ladies salad luncheon today, to help welcome our new pastor's wife.  Instead I'll be working at the family business (since my sister-in-law is sick, too) while my hubby rests and babysits our little girl. 

Ironic that I read
this article while quietly folding laundry as my baby sleeps?  I don't think so.  Probably just God's way of telling me this is my season of life, this is where my heart and work are to be focused: this rarely quiet, but always peaceful domestic monastery of our home. 
 
The lesson was rather that there was something wonderfully right about what his mother had been doing all these years as she lived the interrupted life amidst the noise and incessant demands of small children. He had been in a monastery, but so had she... 

The domestic can be the monastic.

-Ron Rolheiser, at lifeissues.net

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Embrace the Cross

Our five year old son, Ezra is into making crosses this year. Paper and glue, sticks and twine, scraps of boards and nails; he uses whatever materials are at hand at the moment. I admire his creativity, and sometimes I am even called upon to help him get a nail started in just the right place. The other day, he was wanting Ben to help him pound a couple of nails into my bedroom wall in order to hang one of his crosses there for me.

I knew the question was coming.

"Do you like it, Mama?"

Of course I assured him that I like it very much. Truly, nothing delights my mother-heart more than seeing the little seedlings of faith take root and flourish in my children. Ezra knows that the crosses in our home are here to remind us about Jesus.

I haven’t yet tried to explain to Ezra the call to "Take up your cross and follow." Not in so many words. Little boys can get some mighty quirky, albeit amusing, ideas when you try to explain theology to them. But in small ways, we have begun to pave the way for him to understand. We have impressed on our boys the all importance of obedience; both to us, their parents, and to God’s Word. Little things—"Don’t fuss about being uncomfortable;" "Don’t cry if you get shampoo in your eyes;" "Eat the food on your plate without complaint;" "Drop whatever you are doing and come when I call"—are laying the foundation for obedience to that higher call of their King: "If any man would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me." Someday, they will understand.

I can’t tell you how many times, when commanding my little boys to do a thing without complaint, I have been uncomfortably convicted that my attitude was not any better than theirs. I can tell you that, on occasion, when I was fuming about something, one or the other of them has asked me, "Mama, what you’re fussing ‘bout?" And I knew I was guilty as charged. Children don’t let you get away with anything!

When Ezra was wanting to hang his cross on our bedroom wall, I was lying in bed. Although I had sense enough not to say so, my initial reaction to his gift was, "Do I have to have that here, now?" In all honesty, it is not a pretty cross. It is less than rustic. It is rough with splinters and grimy with dirt. But I knew better than to hurt Ezra’s feelings. At the same time, I had to acknowledge to myself that this grudging, "Must I?" was exactly my reaction to the circumstances keeping me abed.

You see, I am one who loves to be working, to always be doing. If I happen to not feel real great, I usually just keep on anyway. I see no sense in taking a nap when I have things to do; no sense in being wimpy if I can keep going. Every few years, to remind me that I am finite, God lets me get sick: really sick. Sick enough that I spend days, weeks, months, in bed, not doing much of anything. This was one of those times.

For one who likes to always be "doing," this is tough. Tasks so simple that I don’t normally consider the amount of energy that I expend in the dong of them: sweeping the floor, brushing my teeth, milking the cow, getting out of bed, reading stories to my children, thinking, keeping meals on the table, keeping food in my stomach, going for a walk, taking a shower: suddenly seem monstrously impossible. All of the things I would like to do—the books I want to write, the horses I want to break, the sewing projects I planned to complete—lie undone, completely out of reach of my non-existent energy. I am tempted to complain about my cross: "Not here, Lord, not now..."

This time, my illness carries enough dread over the outcome to halt an elephant in his tracks. It carries enough potential for sorrow and suffering that it is nearly as difficult for me to contemplate as it is for me to get my body out of bed. It is a daily battle to survive; it is a daily battle to trust.

In the fight for survival, I tell myself each day: "Only one thing." I try to avoid multi-tasking if at all possible. One load of laundry. One batch of cookies. One kettle of soup. I can usually stretch my small bit of strength far enough to get one thing done, but if I let myself start a lot of things, I will probably end up leaving a lot of things unfinished.

In the battle to trust, I have also set myself a single, simple goal. To every day acknowledge to my Father, "O Lord, Thou knowest." It is not so much the fear of pain that weakens me, but the unknown interval of waiting lying between the present; when I do not know what will come; and the future; when what He knows will come to pass; that drags me down. This one small statement is for me an act of placing all my fears, all my rebelliousness, all my impatience, all my weakness, all my hopes, all my plans, all my future, in His hands. In this I find the peace I need to face the unknown. It may not stop my stomach’s churning, but it stills my restlessness and quiets my heart. And, for now, that is enough. This, too, shall pass.

If He gives me the piercing cup of pain, He will also give me grace to drink it to the bitter depths. If He gives instead a cup of joy, I want no aftertaste of useless fretting to spoil the sweetness of His mercy. So I lie in bed, and sometimes I look up at Ezra’s cross. No, it is not what I would have chosen, neither the decor nor being bedridden. But it is where God has put me right now, the circumstances He has placed upon me. Just as it was my duty as a mother to gladly accept my son’s gift, so it is my duty to embrace this cross. Wholeheartedly.

Hold us in stillness through the age-long minute
While Thou art silent, and the winds are shrill.
Can the boat sink, while Thou, dear Lord, art in it?
Can the heart faint that waiteth on Thy will?
Amy Carmichael


- by Ruth Weichmann

Friday, May 09, 2008

Building Blocks for Happy Moms, Happy Babies

I’m new at this amazing thing called motherhood. Every day I realize anew how much I have to learn. What I share here is not original with me. Neither is it everything you need to know to be a mom.

It is a summary of what I’ve learned from the other moms in my life. It is a compilation of the things my husband reminded me of when our newborn was crying and I was close to tears. It outlines a few of the things that we feel have helped make our baby the happy, content little girl everyone comments on. It’s just a few of the “building blocks” we’ve used in making our home a happy one. (And I hope you already know this, but nothing you read on the internet should replace your mother’s instinct or the advice of your doctor, pediatrician, or midwife.)

The First Weeks: Getting Milk, Gaining Weight, Getting Sleep
The top priorities for the first few weeks of your baby’s life all hinge one upon another: Mom getting her milk supply, Baby regaining its birth weight, and both of you getting some sleep. This is the time to drink lots and lots of water, feed your baby when he’s hungry, take hot showers and baths (especially before nursing), and sleep when your baby sleeps. If your baby wants to sleep much of the night and there is no medical concern about his nutrition, enjoy your rest. But be sure to wake your baby for meals at least every three hours during the day so he learns day from night.

The Clock on My Wall
It seems that no matter what time I eat breakfast, I only have to glance at the clock and see the hour hand approaching noon to think about eating again. Sometimes I eat lunch well before noon, if I’m really hungry or will be gone at lunchtime. Other days, I wait until well past noon for lunch because I ate breakfast at 10 o’clock and know I don’t need another meal already. The clock does not set my meal times, but it does help remind me whether or not I’m hungry yet.

I view the clock and my daughter’s mealtimes the same way. As a tired new mom, the clock was there to remind me that even though it felt like I’d just laid down for a nap, my daughter hadn’t eaten for 3 hours and I needed to feed her.

When my daughter and I were first getting the hang of nursing, it helped me to keep an eye on the clock to know how long she’d been eating. If she was crying after just two minutes, she probably had a burp, but she definitely wasn’t done. I thought she’d never learn to have a meal in less than an hour. But in just a few months, she was done eating in less than five minutes per side. And because I watched the clock, I learned her mealtime patterns, and could reassure myself that she’d gotten a full meal.

As a scatter-brained mom trying to get lots done while my daughter was playing, it really helped me to pay attention to what time she got up. It would seem only a few minutes since I left her with her toys when those tired cries would greet my ears. But a glance at the clock showed me sure enough, she’d been playing for an hour, and was definitely ready for a nap.

And when it came to naptime, the clock was an equally helpful tool. Based on what time it was and listening to how she cried I could tell if my little one was awakened by a burp or a noise, and needed more rest, or if she was wide awake and hungry. (The older she gets, the easier it is to tell—if she awakens crying, she usually needs more sleep, but when she wakes up happy and cooing, she’s well-rested and thinking about her next meal.)

Feeding a Hungry Baby
Every human being born on this earth is different from every other baby. Not every baby will conform to the same eating patterns. Smaller babies with smaller tummies will probably have to eat more often than bigger babies. Little ones who aren’t gaining enough weight may need to be reminded that they are hungry. Others who seem to want to nurse twenty-four hours a day may have to learn that mommy has other things to do (and mommy may learn the benefits of a pacifier, even when her child was “never” going to use one!).

Rule number one is to always feed a hungry baby. Suggestion number one is to help guide your baby’s hunger cycles so that you are feeding a hungry baby. It can be a challenge when your baby is still tiny, but if you can keep your baby awake enough at meal time so that they will get a good meal, they will go longer before they are hungry again. And when they are hungry again, they will be hungry enough for another good feeding. Constant nursing day and night will only wear mom out, reducing her milk supply. Both the baby and the milk quickly learn whether the rule of the day is continual snacking or a good meal every few hours.

As your baby grows, the times between meals can naturally be stretched longer. If you have to wake your baby up from every nap for a meal, it might be a sign that he can go longer between meals.

Our little girl ate every two and a half hours—from her first week of life, until she was over four months old. She started sleeping through the night at almost three months old, but she still ate every two and a half hours during the day. I could have set my clock by her hunger. Try as I might to stretch it to three, she wasn’t ready. Then, all of a sudden, she was hungry every three hours. And sometimes we stretch it to four.

You will learn your baby’s own unique needs. Just be sure that as you respond to their needs you’re also helping guide them towards a routine that is good for your baby, your health, and your family.

Eat, Play, Sleep, Eat, Play, Sleep
No matter how often you feed your baby, a little routine will go a long ways toward keeping mom and baby happy.

The traditional baby routine seems to have always been to nurse your baby to sleep. Then you tip-toe to the crib, lay them down, sneak out of the room, and hope they don’t wake up five minutes later with a burp.

Try rearranging the routine. When your baby wakes up from his nap, feed him. Then play with him for a while before he goes down for a nap. Naptime will help stretch the time until his next feeding. When he wakes up, he should be well-rested and ready to give his full attention to eating a good meal. After all those burps are taken care of, and the diaper’s changed, it’s playtime. When he’s little, Mommy might have to play with him to keep him awake until he gets adjusted to the order of the routine. As he gets older, he’ll have fun playing on his own for much of playtime—in fact, you’ll probably see that he wants and needs this “alone” play time away from mom and other siblings. (If he has trouble with spitting up, a partial reclining position in a swing or bouncy seat is a good way to start playtime.)

With all those wiggles and burps out, naptime will soon be drawing near. Your little one may fuss and rub his eyes to let you know he’s ready for a nap. Other days, he might be convinced he doesn’t need a nap. But Mommy knows that without a good nap now he will be fussy later. So Mommy makes sure he has a dry diaper, swaddles him up tight, and puts him down for a nap.

It’s a simple routine arrangement of which you’ll quickly see the benefits!

Click here to read the rest of the article...

P.S. Just a note from Natalie...at this point in time I do virtually all of the scheduling for publishing posts, moderating comments, reading and replying to emails, etc. Thus when anonymous commenters leave rude or derogatory remarks geared toward a post's author, they truly are wasting their time as no one but me will ever see them--and I am being completely honest when I say that virtually nothing ruffles my feathers. We at the YLCF look out for each other, including doing what we can to protect each other from things which are antagonistic to YLCF's vision and purpose.

Monday, May 05, 2008

Foundations for a Happy Family

With Mother's Day coming on Sunday, we decided to share two pieces by Gretchen. Watch for the second coming this Friday...

I will never forget what it felt like to hold my little girl in my arms for the very first time. It’s impossible to know a mother’s love until you become a mother yourself. Everyone tells you it will change your life completely. And you think you understand. But you don’t really understand until that little bundle is placed in your arms and your life changes—completely and forever.

I’ve wanted to be a wife and mommy as long as I can remember. I played with dolls. I babysat my cousins. I volunteered in the church nursery. And then my baby sister was born. I was twelve. My brother was ten. We couldn’t have been more thrilled. The baby brother who arrived three years later only doubled the fun. We hovered over them constantly, changing their diapers and playing with them, and doing plenty of bossing around when they became older. I was grateful for the hands-on baby-care experience. And even more important, my brother and I got to watch my dad and mom as they raised our younger siblings.

I’m sure my parents didn’t do everything right in raising the four of us. But the more families I observe, the more I realize how rare our upbringing was. You see, Dad and Mom taught us that delayed obedience was disobedience. We didn’t get to wait until they counted to ten. “To delay is to disobey.” We were not allowed to talk back—in word or in look. And talking back to Mom was talking back to Daddy’s wife, which was double trouble. Our parents expected us to obey. They told people we were well-behaved, and they trusted us to live up to it.

It helped to have this clarified before we hit the teen years. My parents, in their God-given wisdom, knew that preventing teenage rebellion didn’t start at age twelve. In fact, it started even before those “terrible twos.” They began laying the foundations for obedience before we could even choose to disobey.

From the beginning they set the standard that Daddy and Mommy were in charge. Maybe we didn’t always like the fact that we were not the center of the universe. But my brother and I learned it worked better that way. And we knew that when we became parents, we wanted to raise our kids with this common-sense, biblical principle.

One of the many things that made me fall in love with my husband was watching him with our younger siblings, as well as his niece and nephews. It was easy to picture him as a firm but doting daddy to some red-haired, curly-headed little ones. And when, after a year and a half of marriage to my best friend, our beautiful baby daughter arrived, we were thrilled to become parents—but I didn’t want the honeymoon to end.

Becoming a mommy fulfilled so many dreams and desires. But I wanted my husband to know he was still number one in my life. And as his helpmeet, I needed to be able to cook his dinners, keep his house clean, and be available to help him on the farm when he needed me—in addition to taking care of his daughter. I knew that because of our family business I’d need to be able to leave our baby girl with her aunt or grandma. As well as train her to be a well-behaved mommy’s helper at home and in the family-run store in future years.

So there I sat, with a brand-new baby in my arms, an overwhelming love growing in my heart, as a tremendous responsibility settled on my shoulders. But thankfully, my husband and I were surrounded by godly examples. We didn’t have to figure it out on our own.

And so we started out raising our little girl as our parents and grandparents did before us: with a whole lot of prayer, quite a few tears, bushels of love, and a good dose of common sense. There were nights where we looked at each other in exhausted consternation, wondering what in the world was wrong with our crying little one who didn’t want to eat, sleep, or anything else. And there were many times when we tip-toed over to the crib together, just to stare at the sleeping child who was such a blend of the two of us.

As she grew, we learned—we could soon distinguish the hungry cries from the tired cries, the tears that needed attention from the tears that just needed to be cried. And as she grew, we began to teach her—with that helpful, happy toddler in mind. We told her over and over that we loved her. But we also explained to her, as we swaddled her up tight and laid her in the crib, that it was because we loved her that we knew she needed a nap.

We followed the example of our parents, who had raised nine children between them. We listened to the wisdom of our grandparents, who had lived through many crying babies and sleepless nights. They had experience, and common sense.

It was my desire for a way to share some of that generations-old common-sense with my pregnant friends that sent me to the library...

Click here to read the rest of the article...

Friday, April 25, 2008

Swaddling Clothes

Becoming a parent turns the topics of burps and messy diapers into everyday conversation. It also makes you a connoisseur of baby products. Don't get Merritt and me started on collapsible baby gyms, one-piece potty chairs, or folding baby swings. Things have changed a lot since our youngest siblings were born 10 and 16 years ago! They have gelled baby oil. Tagless clothes. They even have SmartWool socks for toddlers. Ruth wears hers as socks and gloves. Yes, we could go on for hours about all the great toys they make these days! (How did we grow up to be normal adults without them?) There's one I just have to share with you, however...

By far our favorite baby product has been the SwaddleMe. My mom was sitting next to a young mom on an airplane, and couldn't help commenting on her baby and sharing the news that she would be a grandma soon. This girl said, "Oh, your daughter would just love the SwaddleMe." It sounded so good that Ruth had her very own green gingham flannel SwaddleMe waiting for her when she came home from the hospital.

A concept as old as the prophecy of the Babe in the manger, swaddling refers to the practice of wrapping a baby up snugly, imitating the close confines of the womb, and its mother's arms. We've all seen our grandmothers or the nurses at the hospital expertly wrap a baby, tucking the corners of the blanket in just the right place to keep them there. But few of us can duplicate the method. Ruth's arms find their way out of every blanket I wrap around her--even when I thought I did it just right.

The SwaddleMe, however, has something Jesus' mother Mary had never seen: Velcro. It keeps even the most determined little one snugly wrapped.

Besides the obvious benefit of keeping the baby warm without the danger of suffocation from blankets, swaddling also helps babies sleep better. You've seen babies startle themselves awake, their arms raising quickly? It's called the startle reflex. They usually grow out of it between four to six months, but until then, swaddling can help keep babies from waking themselves up.

It took me a few days to decide to try the SwaddleMe with Ruth. But it wasn't long before we wouldn't leave home without it. Whether sleeping on the couch at Papa and Nanna's, in the bassinet at Grandpa and Grandma's, in the playpen at her uncle and aunts', or in the cradle at home, Ruth always knew it was naptime when we swaddled her up. Once I left Ruth with her Aunt Jessica, and was gone longer than I had planned. I came back to a very tired little girl, who was quite fussy and past ready for her nap. I swaddled her up, and she instantly let out a big sigh, closed her eyes, and went to sleep. If we'd only had a video, it would have been the perfect advertisement for SwaddleMe!

We've since discovered there are multiple brands of swaddles and wearable blankets. I would have tried the Halo Sleep Sack when Ruth grew out of her first Kiddopotamus SwaddleMe, but the Sleep Sack only has the optional Swaddle in the first size. At 6 pounds 10 ounces, Ruth was almost too small for the size small SwaddleMe, though (they had a preemie size, but I hadn't bought it, expecting to have a bigger baby!). With the SwaddleMe brand, it's important to have the right size so the baby doesn't wriggle down inside the blanket. It has the advantage over the Wearable Blanket, however, of not having to fit their arms through sleeves at bedtime. Ruth quickly grew too tall for the size small (I think it shrunk, even though I hung it out to dry every time), kicking the feet pocket open and waking herself up with one foot in, one foot out. We chose the fleece fabric in the size large SwaddleMe, and the stretchy fleece seemed to give her a little more room to squirm without bursting the Velcro open--plus it has a bit more give as I wrap her up.

I know our little girl will soon be past the startle reflex stage, but I think we will keep swaddling her until she becomes strong enough to "Houdini" her way out. It keeps her warm and cozy at night, and I don't have to worry about her working her way under blankets.

Yes, everyone laughs at our little green "glow worm" daughter, teasing us about putting our child in a straight jacket. But they don't laugh at the fact that she's slept through the night since she was almost three months old (for which I credit not only the SwaddleMe, but having her on a routine).

We like the BundleMe from the J.J. Cole Collection, too... But didn't I tell you not to get me started?

Thursday, December 13, 2007

from Ruth Ann's mommy...

My little daughter and I just got back from a walk down to the store to see her daddy. The 50-degree weather melted all our snow, and the sunshine kept peeking out, making it so inviting for a walk--especially since freezing temperatures are are forecast to swiftly return. And we had such fun--our girl is already proving to be a great farmer's daughter, she loves the fresh air so! It always makes her stop crying to go outside...and today, she fell asleep as we walked.


My daughter...Hard to believe that two weeks ago, I didn't even know if it was a son or daughter I was carrying. I had just been put on bed rest for high blood pressure and had no idea how long I'd be laid up waiting for the little one to arrive. And now the due date is almost here--and Ruth Ann will be two weeks, two days old on December 7!

Everything had been going fine until my appointment the Monday before Thanksgiving, when suddenly my blood pressure had skyrocketed, coupled with other symptoms. Merritt was amazing--not only washing dishes and cleaning house, but bringing me my meals and making sure I wasn't out of bed longer than my five minutes per hour. My dad had already been up here helping with a building project, but my mom and siblings came up the next day...and just in time! When Mom took me to the doctor on Wednesday, I was feeling fine, and hoping to hear I could be up and around for Thanksgiving--instead, I got to call my husband and tell him that the doctor wanted to induce me right then and there, before I got any worse. And no pressure, the doctor told me, but her family was planning Thanksgiving dinner for 4 p.m. the next day. :-)

As it was, Merritt and I made it home with our little daughter for Thanksgiving dinner with the family the next day. Ruth didn't even wait until Thanksgiving to arrive but came just nine hours after I got all settled in at the hospital. Merritt was an incredible support during labor--I've always known my husband to be a man of many talents, but he outdid himself as a labor coach. And as a Daddy...oh I love watching him with our little Ruth!

We kept everyone in suspense about the baby's name but we ended up with one of the very first names we had chosen when we found out a baby was on the way. Ruth Ann was named for her Great Grandma Billie Ruth Acheson, and she had three Great-great-great Aunt Ruths as well. Ann has always been a favorite name of mine, and it's a family name as well (Merritt's Great Aunt Ann, among others).

When our little girl was born with her daddy's dark hair instead of her mommy's red hair, we decided to spell Ann without an "e." If Ruth Ann ends up with an Anne of Green Gables personality, she can spell her name with an "e" if she likes. But when her mother went through her own years of signing her name Gretchen Louise Ann Glaser, for some reason she didn't use an "e" then either...

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Ruth Ann has kept her mommy busy feeding her and sleeping between times! I wrote the above a week ago, and as I sit down to finish this post I hear my little girl waking up from her nap. She does very well when we keep her on a routine (Babywise makes up much of my nursing-time reading). Ruth is a very happy, content little one--and growing so fast! Already almost 3 weeks old.

There are so many memories I want to put into words. Laying awake in the hospital until past 2 in the morning, in awe at the precious little bundle in the bassinet next to me. The surprise in everyone's voices when I told them our baby was a girl (something told me that since everyone thought it was a boy, this little one just might surprise them!). The way it feels to have her tiny fingers curl around mine. Her little half smiles, the way she loves her bath, and how she instantly stops crying when she feels her mommy's arms. Watching my parents become grandparents, my siblings aunt and uncle--the pride, the joy, the tears.

All my mom's invaluable help in the two weeks she was here, and how she loved to shop for her new granddaughter. The way my heart overflows watching Merritt with our daughter, how he patiently changes her diaper in the middle of the night, reads her books while Mommy is busy, and always wants to get in his cuddle time with her when he gets home from work. Thank You, Lord! How I love being a mommy...

Monday, December 03, 2007

Christian Liberty and the Law of Wisdom

There are a lot of extremes under the banner of Christianity. That’s not too surprising, because people in general are extremists. We discover an idea and run with it until it becomes our guiding doctrine in life. It’s human nature.

The frightening thing about Christianity is that there are very few rules. People like rules. It is easier to open a book and find a rule than it is to seek the face of God. I’ve heard many people say, myself included, “I just wish God would spell it out in the Bible, it would make things so much easier…” Easier, yes… but then where would wisdom come in? Seeking wisdom means seeking God, a continual dependence on Him. When you have a rule for everything, then there is no need for wisdom, or really any kind of relationship with the Rule-Giver.

People burned by hyper-conservatism and legalism, tend to take their Christian liberty and run the other way. Like a prisoner suddenly set free they gorge themselves on ice cream and lollipops because they can. After awhile, they’ll wake up with a bellyache and wonder why God didn’t stop them or something… Well, friends, it’s called wisdom. And God gives it freely to those who ask. :-)

The ideas so many of us grew up with—homeschooling, courtship, stay-at-home wives and daughters—these are not mandates found in the Bible. Oh? Then why should I practice any of these things? It isn’t a matter of should or shouldn’t, but of wisdom. There is wisdom found in all of these things, but God has not commanded us to do any of them because, really, it is a very individual thing. Homeschooling is a brilliant idea… but it isn’t for everyone. The same goes for any other gray area we find in the Bible. Wisdom is knowing what is right for ourselves and our families.

This makes many people uncomfortable because we want everyone to be like us. It makes us feel more comfortable in our own choices. So, we tend to take very good ideas and turn them into rules. That way we can say to our neighbor, “Hey, you should be doing this…” instead of “Hey, I’ll pray with you about this decision… may God grant you wisdom.”

My husband and I are planning to homeschool our children, not because we think it is the only way, or even because we think it is a flawless concept. It isn’t. My parents were leaders in the homeschool community and we saw the good, the bad, and the ugly. ;-) We are hoping to avoid the mistakes we saw, but we won’t be perfect. Even so, we feel homeschooling is the wisest choice for us in light of what we see around us.

I am only using homeschooling as one example… the same concept can apply to really any of it.

There is so much freedom is realizing our lives don’t have to look like everyone else’s. In fact, I think once we realize that we don’t have to keep looking at others to make sure we’re ‘doing it right’ we’ll be spending a lot more time looking up… which is infinitely sweeter.

- by Elizabeth Jackson
photo by Natalie Klein of a California coastline

Friday, November 30, 2007

More pictures of baby Ruth!




Gretchen said I could share more pictures of her darling little daughter...

Isn't she a doll?Acheson family pictureAll warm and cozy in her handmade cradle...


Saturday, September 29, 2007

Update on Joy and Joya

Here are a few more stories on the twins born earlier this week.

Conjoined Twins go to Alexandra's House
Another report showing the mother's trust in God

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Two babies with one heart

This story in today's KC Star wrenched at my heart. Praise the Lord that the twins have lived longer than expected--and they still have a chance.

“I asked God in the beginning, when I found out everything that was going on, to give me strength and whatever his will was, let it be done,” said Hemphill, who also has an 8-year-old daughter. “I asked him to give me time just to hear them cry and just to get to know them and they’ve already lived” beyond her expectations.
Read it here.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

My angel baby

Only a few weeks old, and as cute as can be.


For the next six weeks I have the delight of taking care of a precious little gift from God. I love her so much--I can't imagine how much love will fill my heart when it is my own tiny darling at last in my arms. Her adorable expressions, the little noises she makes while she sleeps, even her newborn cry when she is hungry all make me smile.

I call her my little angel baby, because she is as good as gold--sleeping peacefully no matter the chaos around and only crying when she needs to be fed. Swaddled in her pink blanket with one bitty hand peeking through the folds, it's all I can do not to cover her in kisses. And holding a sleeping baby or child...it truly is one of the most satisfying, peaceful activities on earth. Obviously, rocking a crying baby is just as important, but it's not quite so peaceful usually!


How could anyone bear to neglect or ignore such a priceless treasure? How could anyone not want such a jewel?

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Another reason to keep it off

I've known for years that I was not going to allow my little ones to watch TV, but this study was an interesting support of my personal preference. The supposedly helpful infant videos appear to not give a baby any benefit whatsoever--if anything it can cause harm.

This tied in well with what Elizabeth wrote the other day. Good food for thought!

HT: Elizabeth

Monday, August 06, 2007

Teaching Little Ones

I have always loved to teach. Perhaps it is an ‘older sister’ thing. From teaching my sister to clap when I was three, to writing my own ancient history curriculum for another sister, piano lessons and Sunday school, I have expressed my love of teaching in many different ways. I used to fantasize about having my own little one room schoolhouse where the wonder of learning never ceased.

From the moment I found out I was expecting William, I was excited about ‘someday homeschooling’ him. My parents gave me a wonderful gift in home education, and I want to pass that gift on to my children. It isn’t something I had to ‘decide’… I always knew I would homeschool. What, pass the joy of teaching on to someone else? Unthinkable!

I have just begun to realize, however, that I don’t have to wait until William is four or five to begin homeschooling. I want to create for him now an environment of learning. I no longer have to fantasize about that one room schoolhouse… I can make that dream come true, right here in my own home.

But, really, what can you ‘teach’ a seven month old? God has fully equipped them to reach certain milestones, like crawling, on their own, with very little help. But I have to provide a safe place for him to be able to discover this. An environment that fosters his natural abilities. When I was in Romania, the babies in the hospital had very little time outside of their cribs. As you can imagine, most of them were very behind developmentally.

I want to foster other things in him, as well: A love of music; an appreciation of good literature; a love for God’s word. We listen to classical music every morning. I read to him a chapter out of the Bible every afternoon. I discovered my old “Winnie-the-Pooh” storybook the other day, and we have been enjoying this classic by A.A. Milne. Does he understand what I am reading? Probably not, but he loves the time we are spending together none-the-less, and he is being exposed to the things his daddy and I feel are important. There are endless ways to expose your little one to the wonders of God’s world, from nature walks and camping trips, to live music in your home.

And if ever I am at a loss for ideas, there are wonderful resources on the internet and at the library. Letter of the Week is a site I recently discovered through a friend, with ‘lesson plans’ neatly laid out for babies 3-12 months of age.

For those of you waiting for your turn in the adventures of motherhood, it is never too early to begin planning and collecting educational resources for your future little ones. And for book lovers like me, it is just one more excuse to fill those shelves. ;-)

- by Elizabeth Jackson

Photo copyright 2007 Amanda Wells.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Response to "Under the Mystery"

Tabitha posted this comment and poem after reading Ruth's article last week. It was definitely worth publishing here so that all our readers can see it. - Natalie

I had written this poem in a desire to encourage a family who had gone through a miscarriage last summer. I spoke from our own family's experience of losing babies to miscarriage. I know that our experience is not the same - you knew your baby longer than we did, but I hoped that this would be an encouragement to you, just the same - mostly because of what we have to look forward to in eternity.

Little one, you slipped away
Before you ere were known.
By the ones who loved you so
And in whose hearts you'd grown.

We missed those tiny baby hands
And little baby feet.
The softly wrinkled little brow,
And tender mouth so sweet.

We missed first words & toddling steps
The baby clothes and toys,
And all the extra tiny things
And precious little joys.

The excitement we once knew
Is replaced with tears of sorrow.
But we grieve not without the Hope
Of a joyous, new tomorrow.

For now, our hearts anticipate
The day that we will meet.
Not here on earth, but very soon
At our dear Savior's feet.

You're safe at Home, dear little one
Tenderly carried all the way,
By God, whose perfect plan for you
Is now fulfilled in life's short day.

How sweet to know you're not alone
But rather fully blest.
Your eyes behold our Savior's throne
And in His arms you rest.

You're in our hearts & loving thoughts
Dear child that we never knew.
And by God's grace, when life is done,
We'll share the joys of Heaven with you.

In loving memory of the little ones Home safe with Jesus, still in our hearts.
- Tabitha Beals

Friday, July 13, 2007

Children as Blessings?

I stopped for some lunch at a 50's Burger place. I sat down in the empty booth with a view out the front so I could people watch and think about stuff. I was hoping to drift off into my own world as I sipped my strawberry malt and waited for my burger.

But they were loud. In the booth behind me... and because I'm a pregnant mom, "mom talk" catches my ear whether I want it to or not. I found it hard to let my mind trail onward to dream land when their conversation hit home so hard... or rather, it hit my heart hard. So yeah, I guess I was eavesdropping with no intent to.

They were around my age, maybe early thirties at the most. I'm for details so yeah, I noticed when I walked in what they looked like before I even sat down. Hair was perfect, jewelry in place, very put together. Conversation went something like this:

"...that's it. I'm DONE. I can't remember the last time I've had time for myself since our baby was born... can't remember the last time I just sat in Barnes and Noble and read and had a good time...two children is enough for anyone. I'd wanted a boy this time, but my husband always wanted two girls..."

"...yeah, I know what you mean... my husband wants a boy though..."

"Now Kate is in preschool most days, but now with a baby, I NEVER sleep... and you know, the more kids you have the higher the risk! There really is risk to your health to have children. It's not safe really after two...the risk just goes up... not to mention it is way harder getting my figure back this time around!"

The second girl was pregnant. She talked of her pregnancy, her doctor, picking out names and such and then the conversation returned..."

"I don't see any purpose in having three when I already get frustrated with my two... I mean, I want happy children."

"...yeah, and you want to be happy too..." her listening pregnant friend replied.

"Right, and so I've told him we're done and that's that. I'm content... though I'm really hard up when I think like when can I go shopping and have fun again?!"

"...I had the hardest time just having one. Huge transition. So maybe with this one I'll make it better than with the first one... but I never get my coffee on time even with one. I have this friend who has three and she doesn't have time to go anywhere anymore, not at all!"

The conversation went on and on as I ate and then finished up. I sat there and stared out the large window across the parking lot at the store that caught my eye, "Maternity Works." I thought about the last time I sat in Barnes and Noble... have I ever sat in Barnes and Noble and read? When I got married and started having kids Barnes and Noble was new on the horizon! Yes, and then I remembered. I'd gone in Barnes and Noble about two years ago looking for the thickest baby name book they had to offer. There were names it it like Cabela and Zazeria.

I felt my baby kick about that point. I thought about how these women would think I was insane if they only knew. I thought about how much I would have missed if after Shelton there were no more... no Christian Soldier, no Morgan Bliss, no Caedman Stanley, affectionately known as "Bubbie." No baby inside of me enjoying the strawberry malt.

As they got up to leave, the woman pushed her newborn in the Hummer style stroller right up next to me at my table so she could get her bags and purse. She was decked out in pink. She was beautiful. She hadn't made a sound the whole time I'd been there, yet she was awake. She had big brown eyes. She wore the cutest hat - most likely GAP. I hope it's on sale when this baby is born in the spring

I couldn't help but glance up and ask, "How old is your baby?" After all, the baby was less than a foot from me and I was staring at her.

"She's two months," the woman replied as she picked up her things.

"She's very peaceful. What's her name?" I asked.

"Carolina."

It seemed to just come out of my mouth automatic as I glanced down at the tiny bundle again, "I'm having a girl."

The two women looked at me and smiled and one said, "It's nice to have a girl first. I did."

I thought quick, thinking of their conversation, "This is my second girl..." and then I added after a breath, "I have four boys." I looked her in the eye and a smile crept over my face. I wonder if I resembled something similar to Goofy at that point.

Their eyes popped out of their heads, the lady with the stroller just turned around and walked away! The other lady, pregnant, not hiding her shock took a step closer and almost in a whisper asked, "Do you ever have time for yourself?"

I said something like, "Now and then...I am right now! But one day, ya know, they'll all be gone. My oldest is 8. It seems he was just a baby - it goes by fast... I'm enjoying it... it's worth it... I love my kids so much... I'm excited about this baby... I don't think I'll ever wish I didn't have these children -- time for myself or not."

And I reached in my purse and pulled out a picture of the five kiddos and handed it to her. She looked at the picture and asked me all their names and ages. She said, "They look very happy."

"They are most of the time," I laughed (as I thought of the unhappy times they can have too!) "I'm happy." I said, "Because of Jesus Christ..."

She turned and glanced towards her friend pushing the stroller up and down outside and handed the picture back.

I stood to leave and added something like, "Congratulations on your baby. Don't worry, two isn't that hard, really! You 'll do fine. Enjoy them. You'll have plenty of years to sleep and sleep, and shop and all that. Before you know it they'll both be grown. It will be quiet then."

And it was a quiet ride home.

I know medium size families aren't for everyone. Large ones for probably fewer. Some God has one or two for. Some can't have children. There is nothing spiritual about having a lot of children. There is nothing more holy. In certain situations you may even call it "less holy." God didn't make us all a like in personality or any other way. He intends different size families for different folks.

Take the view the more the better, more "blessing" more "right" -- then people such as Sarah in the Bible, Esther, and others, as well as women such as George Muller's wife, Elizabeth Elliott, Amy Carmichael, Nancy Lee De Moss and there are many, many more you would have to dismiss as "missing God's will for their lives."

In and of itself, having "lots" of kids is nothing to be praised. It can be less holy, less right, less of God's will -- if for the wrong motive, selfish gain in some way, or for affirmation, for your self-worth as a woman... or how about keeping up with someone else? There are as many wrong reasons to have children as there are wrong reasons to not have them. Along with right reasons on either end

It's about walking by the Holy Spirit. It's about relationship with God, hearing His voice, being willing to listen and obey which ever way He leads you in as a couple.


- article and photo by Alyssa Welch

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Under the Mystery

“Why, Lord?”

I have asked Him this question many, many times this year. I ask not because I question His judgment but because His thoughts and ways are higher than mine. I cannot comprehend all of the reasons behind His doings.

“Why now, Lord?” I wondered in April, when I discovered that I was pregnant. The question was one of delight, not dismay; we had been waiting and hoping for another baby.

“Why, Lord?” I asked twice in June; once, after my dear friend called to say that her long awaited first baby had died in the womb; again, after my sister-in-law’s fourth birth ended in an emergency cesarean and a stillborn son.

The question is not an idle one, nor a rebellious one. I ask my Father because I long to know the mystery of His will, I long to grasp the fullness of the purpose that lies behind His actions, I long for my dim sight to be perfected in the light of His face. He graciously gives many answers to my wonderings in His word, but often I must go on in darkness in the face of the unexplained and incomprehensible. Some things will go unanswered until eternity, and it is then that I must trust Him without fretting, and leave the “why” to His wisdom. It is only there–in the confidence I have in His perfect judgements, and the assurance that His purposes are good and glorious–that I can rest in peace.

As Amy Carmichael said,
If I wonder why something trying is allowed,
and press for prayer that it may be removed;
if I cannot be trusted with any disappointment,
and cannot go on in peace under any mystery,
then I know nothing of Calvary Love.
On November 14, 2006, the pain was too deep, the blow too sharp, for my reeling mind to even begin to ask “why.” I could only weep over the still form of our baby girl, our precious Roseanna Kari, as my Father took to Himself the daughter born only one day before.

In the days that followed, the questions echoed repeatedly through my soul. Why was her life so short? Why must she have suffered so in that one brief day? Why were we not allowed to hold her longer? Even now, most of them remain unanswered. The doctors could not pinpoint a reason behind her death.

Roseanna is gone. It remains to me to go on under this mystery, leaving all of the churning “what if’s” and “if only’s” with my Father. I give Him, too, all of the uncertainties and fears that shadow the future. He knows all that has passed, and all that lies ahead. Nothing can touch me, but what He allows. Though the storm blow fiercely and the night be black about me, in Him is peace for the present and light enough for the next step of the way.
Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgements, and His ways past finding out!... For of Him, and through Him, and to Him are all things: to Whom be glory for ever. Amen (Romans 11:33, 36).

- by Ruth Weichmann

Monday, May 14, 2007

Thankful for our mothers

Without internet access over the weekend, I neglected to wish all of the mothers among our readers a happy Mother's Day. Though I remain whole-heartedly convinced my mom is the best in the world I know many of you absolutely treasure your moms. And some of you--it seems like more everyday--are becoming first-time mommies this year!

An especial thanks and appreciative hugs must go to Elizabeth and Ashleigh--both busy mommies who make time to write for the YLCF. With the other married/soon-to-be-wed team members, I am guessing that the general demographic of the YLCF Team (not necessarily the readers as a whole) will be continuing its shift from primarily single girls to wives and moms. Though the majority of our readers are young ladies in their late teens/early twenties in North America, there are also girls as young as ten and twelve, as well as women in their sixties reading--from places like Malaysia, China, Israel, Finland, South Africa, and Russia, to name a few of the most common.

However, even as we explore new topics and adventure into new paths, we'll not forget our purpose of encouraging young women and their families and promoting character and purity. While there will be more articles on marriage and motherhood, they will be in addition to the topics we've always held...and remember, YLCF is written by its readers so if you would like to submit an article, you know what to do.

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