Power, powerlessness,and Prayer in mothering (and 3 Qs to stare down your fears)

M is for motherhood. It is also for Mystery, misgivings, mistakes and marvelous things!

A new mom is always a good friend to an older mom - because - the older mom, has chalked up more mistakes; and she can lose the light of wonder if she is not careful! 

An older mom is a good friend to a new mom - because - the new mom is facing fears hitherto unmet; and she needs to know there are more fears to come and what seems so puzzling can be untangled with a little dexterity. 

So here is a little something from an older mom to my younger mom friends (and my older mom friends who agree & may need a little reminding :) 

With mommy-ing, you have stumbled upon an awesome power. It begins with the marvel that a life is being formed within you each living, brehting moment. As you cradle and care for the budding life, you get to see now that you can literally lift and shape a soul... and soon enough, you have those moments when you have feel you could go the other way and wreck it: when you lose it, when you are not sure what to do, when nothing seems to go right? Those days when your fears, anxieties and guilt bundle up and nearly suffocate you? 

Moms live with this strange tension of being powerful and powerless at the same time. 


And then, there are fears. 

Remember when you thought you crossed a threshold, jumped a hoop... you find something else coming around the bend. When they were small, I was afraid they didn't drink enough, eat properly, sleep safely through the night. They grew through all of that. Then -

I was afraid of nasty bug bits that left large painful welts, accidents, stranger saying strange things to my kids, other kids who may bully... 

Then I was afraid that she would be lonely, awkward, too strong, too meek...

I was afraid that she would be last in class, lose her things (for the tenth time), feel too stressed, not feel motivation, not really learn, not enjoy herself...become rude, selfish, mean..

I was afraid she would dislike church (waiting so long for us always), be mad at God for stuff that happened, live with cray expectations as a pastor's child...

I was afraid that she would not develop with gender confidence; feel weird around boys...mix with the wrong company...

I was afraid that she would develop an attitude, acne, act up.

 I see it now with trained eyes -- the fears won't end.

But -

fears can be fabulous things. Yes, really. Fear tells you what matters. And, Mothering matters; a lot. A mother who studies her fears and picks her battles is leaning into her maternal shape, hollowed out by trying one-more-time: a magnificent shape that cuddles, coddles, coaxes and coaches another little budding soul into ferocity (boy) and flower (girl).

You can stare down your fears. Like Max here:

where the wild things are {click to enjoy this video version of the famous children's book}

The supper was there, and it was still hot.

I am sure us moms will do just that. Feed our kids hot food even though we were fuming bad... and God our Father does the same. The food of our mothering joy may be delayed due to our silly antics; giving rise to many fears... but He will yet have a hot supper waiting for us.

What we need to learn is that when the fears come with the scary eyes, claws and teeth; we need to look at them squarely and take charge -- not of the child -- but of ourselves!

The answer to Parenting-power lies in managing oneself. 

I learnt that the fears will step back, quieten, and not be able to lay claim to me if I sought for the right answers through asking the right Questions -- nothing cuts through the fog like an incisive question, and nothing clarifies and emboldens like an honest answer.

Here are 3 questions to help take the bite and bloodiness out of the battle.

Q1: what is it I truly value and am afraid of losing here?

Every battle is energized by what it is afraid of losing. Will are you afraid of losing in this situation? Is it worth the battle? Will you really lose what truly counts? 

When I have asked this Q, I often find that what mattered most to me was the quality of the relationship: is there honour? is there honesty? is there humour?  I see what is at stake and recognise that things are not as messy or serious as I initially feel.

Q2: what can i really do about it?

It's good they eat all their greens and follow their routines. But is it fair for this particular child? Every child is a unique human person. What are my options with this child? What difference can i actually make at this point? How can this be done without jeopardising what truly matters? 
Do i need to learn a new way to think/feel/speak in order to make the right difference?

Q3: what am i really praying for?

Most of us pray 'rescue me' prayers. If we rescued our kids from every predicament; they will never grow. Why do we expect God to rescue us, when He wants to train us?

Also, are we praying for what truly matters? Good weather, the ability to handle the exam is all good. But what of creative solutions when caught in the rain and an excellent attitude to learning and revision? 

Rescue prayers happen because we are going so fast we step into potholes we did not anticipate. 

This is why reading, prayer, reflection, and talking to other parents are all very necessary parts of the parenting journey. It is far too easy to just shuffle between work and home, just catching one's breath. It is equally easy to be bogged down by meals, deals, and squeals (of protest) that we get all fogged up and end up drained and ineffectual. 

The only way is to slow down - enough - to pray through the first two questions and forge a constructive path ahead.  Slowing down also allows us to recall assurances God has he given so far, and to anchor back onto the larger movements of the Spirit that persists: God is faithful, and though the way is jagged and strewn with the debris of our mistakes, the journey is shaping up and the life is unfolding yet.

Just this month, older moms have shared with me children's graduation, awards, marriage. These same kids have driven these moms near crazy. As one mom put it, "...still remember bringing him to different schools to get somebody to take him in and even dragged him to take IQ tests to make sure he has no learning disability....But now, wow!".



Prayer is all the more a lifeline if you feel alone in your parenting. Your spouse may not quite get your values or plans. The Bible included a lovely story of  a mom and a grandma who knows all about that. 

They were the grandma and mom of a young man. His name is Timothy. Yes, the one in the Bible, the spiritual son of the great apostle Paul, the young pastor who did not quite have the stomach - physically; and for strong personalities, and sometimes felt pretty unsure about what he is meant to do... Yet, Timothy was a man of faith and he was pastor of young churches needing a faithful, wise shepherd. It may seem unlikely; but he was the man of the hour.

Timothy was born into an inter-faith family. From what we can glean, his dad was a regular Greek guy which mean myth, religion, hedonism and possible some chauvinism too. But Timothy had a grandma and mom who were Jews and devout ones at that.

4 amazing things* emerged from his life story, which we do well to remember:

1. It's really important for children to know the Scriptures from the earliest age.
2. It's really important to keep parenting - especially when the going gets tough. 
3. It's really amazing how an ordinary faith can lead to great usefulness. 
4. It's really amazing how our kids can turn out, despite all the obstacles.

 Points 1 and 2 are instructional. Points 2 and 4 are sooooo inspiring!

Slow down, pray, ask good questions, stare down your fears.

Mother on valiantly --

knowing you are shaping a soul one day at a time, one determined smile at a time, one teary conversation at a time, one more sacrifice, at a time.


And if you need a fika, arrange for one!

*adapted from desiringgod.org

and then Narnia: surprises in new motherhood

M is for motherhood. It is also for Mystery, misgivings, mistakes and marvelous things!

I invite moms to share this month here. We begin with a new mother, Rox, who describes herself as 'an accidental saty-at-home mom, former slave to the corporate world; now a happy slave to her son Max'.

Look at Max, such a happy chubs ~

"Entering motherhood, for me, was like opening a wardrobe and stumbling into Narnia - a foreign land and a whole new world. 

w o n d e r 

There are battles to be fought, discoveries to be made and victories to be won. My identity and role as a woman shifted from a wife to also a mother and yet there were times when I felt as helpless as a newborn and as clueless as a child sometimes would with a new experience. 

I was suddenly set on a path to distinguish parenting truths from myths, to separate science from superstition and to sometimes decide between listening to my instincts or well-meaning advice. There is a barrage of choices to be made and theories to be tested; from breastfeeding to exclusively pumping to formula feeding, having schedules in place or following a baby-led routine, how to sleep-train and so on. Some choices seemed to invite judgment which then made me feel less of a mother and some made me feel wrongfully superior. More significantly, there will be choices that reflect my values as a parent; values that will inevitably be passed on to the child and could potentially shape his behaviour and beliefs. The voices of the world are many, loud and confusing, so it is a relief to know I could always turn to the voice of God, our perfect parent, for instruction, assurance and comfort.

And then there are the surprises; the loud burps that I can never imagine would come from such a tiny human being, the embarrassing farts that I thought could only belong to the husband, and the baby's ability to always wake up when I'm in the middle of a shower! I discovered that my physical and mental resilience could be stretched, that it was possible to function on little sleep and still remain joyful. I even started to exhibit sacrificial behaviour, putting the baby's needs before my own, letting my stomach growl angrily while satisfying his hunger. The maternal instinct that kicked in caught me by surprise - I became protective and passionate about every aspect of his well-being.

As I became more comfortable about my new role, the journey began to be filled with many magical moments - they say a picture is worth a thousand words but some emotions cannot be captured with either pictures or words. Thinking that newborns mainly eat, sleep and poop all day, I was proven wrong when my 2-month old son started responding to me with a variety of sounds - it gave me such a rush to be able to have a conversation with him, sort of. When he shows interest in a book or song, I wonder if he'll love reading or music as much as I do. I started to think about where his strengths and passions will lie and what kind of character he'll turn out to be!

Finally, I've come to realise what a privilege it is to be able to influence and disciple my child and I can't wait to see what God has in store for him.

Rox & Max

Mother's Day Solidarity Call

I know many mothers; and have met many more.

There are no accidental mothers; just that not always, it was a woman's free, willing, ready choice.

Here are two photos of moms I love: a simple Indian woman with her half-clad babe and the blonde with her dark African babe.

Mothers come in so many shades.

There are Mothers in India, Thailand, Indonesia... the ones who live far away from the bright city lights and are not tethered to a cable that wires their imagination to a world of 'have's'. Those mothers? They have stomachs to feed.

Then there are those mothers I read about and weep. Those mothers who roused to the sound of sirens and grab their kids, kicking dust for miles with only the clothes on their back. Those mothers who in the mob moment loses grip of the child and now are haunted by that moment as they pray and cry till there are no-more-tears in the camps. Those mothers who have watched as their children are taken, ravished, killed. These kinds of mothers? I have no words for what they suffer.

Usually when we mothers think about 'mothering', we see ourselves, our moms, and maybe other moms we know personally. But there are so many mothers out there!

We need to set our lives against the larger canvas - and what we juxtapose it with makes such a huge difference!

I will tell you this too: I have met and known mothers who are 'tais tais'; rich and robed in splendour - but living with an inner posture of poverty and want, literally worried sick over house and husband and offspring.

Fellow mothers, what is this wondrous, painful, incredible, and tremendous thing we have been called to?

How do we respond to it? 

How do we know when we do it well, or not? 

Do we ever fail?

Fellow mothers, in a world that says "if it's worth anything, it gets paid, handsomely" - how do we continue in our daily trenches when the affirmation cracks like thin ice?

How do we keep going when there is no interlude with popcorn and streamers?

I remember my own mother - whose life I described as both entrancing and repulsive to me at the same time. I adored her passion for life and her endless capacity to care; but I felt unnerved to think that a woman's lot is so much sacrifice.

She was three when she lost her dad. With a mom who gambled away the meagre earnings, she learnt to be resourceful and to provide, cook, clean, plan, and scheme! She raised her mother and brother. Later she would marry my dad and repeat the whole thing over, this time, including a mean-spirited mother-in-law, and nine children! 

She never had a boudoir but wore mostly the same few clothes and her shoes were hospital-issue where she worked. She would walk with aching legs to save the few coins for a larger meal for us. As a litle girl, i believed my mother could do anything! She cooked, cleaned, sewed, made pretty our sparse home, told stories, comforted us, laughed at our antics... and with each season, she just kept growing and glowing. It wasn't until we were grown and started supporting her that she began to spend on herself.

Most of my growing up years then, I admired my mother and wanted her grace and prowess - but  - I told myself I would not lose so much in the process.

I didn't understand.

The paradox of dying to live and giving to receive stumbles us. It is a faint voice, seemingly unreasonable, even foolhardy with the noisy clatter each day of 'get what you want', 'don't let others take advantage of you', 'watch out for yourself'...

I'll be honest. I still don't get it quite yet. Maybe I am too tethered to the world and need to cut loose some more.

If Jesus invites us to be the branches extending from him as the vine; I am the branch with many other IVs inserted into parts; busily drinking off approval, competition, strife, fear... I am not pure juice. I am sloshing a little tipsy with the flavours and favours of the world.

So  --

when my sweet child grows up as she must and turns into a stranger; I panicked that I have lost years of pure maternal investment and career sacrifice.

when others cringe at the son's outburst and hurl accusations, I am a crumpled heap.

when the future possibilities for my children could turn out to be sloppy-artist and itinerant juggler (no kidding) I pace within my heart and wonder what went wrong.

You see how quickly I move dead centre and it becomes about me? I think it negates the whole idea of sacrifice and being for others when little old me walks on stage and demand the floodlights shift to reveal a star!

I need other mothers to mother - well.

So here's what I figure. I need to issue a call for solidarity. Mothers, let us stand together. Let us cheer each other on. Let us remind each other of the sheer nobility and washboard-knuckle pain reality of this thing we call 'mothering'. Let us also step back often enough to see the larger canvas, and weep along with fellow moms. We fight different battles. But one thing we all do: we fight: for life, for hope, for love.  And our --

laying down,
letting go,
leaving it aside... 

it is all Jesus' way...  I always wondered how as a gal I could be like Jesus. Mothering showed me a deep, amazing way to be so. He laid aside His majesty. We may too, with wrinkly bosoms. He lets his right go. We may too, when we drink from the sippy cup, go de-caf, stop smoking... He left a lot aside; the reasonable stuff of income security and a carpenter's dream workshop perhaps...and more. For some of us, the children we have demands we be certain kinds of moms: stay-home, doing odd jobs, regulars at hospitals, special services. principals' offices...

Jesus gets us!

At that cross. His mother stood with him. A child and a mother can get each other that way when they were both willing to drink from the same cup. We can get our God's heart (and he is wont to use maternal images: the mother hen being a favourite) and enjoy a solidarity there.

In our crosses, Jesus stands with us.


As fellow moms, let us stand with one another.


Solidarity challenge this mother's day season:
1. pray or send a gift to a mother with less
2. don't compare, complain or compete with another woman (especially your mom!)
3. give thanks for being a mom
4. share this post and solidarity challenge!

I will not be silent !

When I miss a post,

I sweat a little.

Here's why.

I'm not a professional blogger, paid to write. Nor do I have eager fans waiting for RSS updates... So why fuss over how long since I last wrote?

There are many reasons one sweats over missing a beat.

One is driven to meet certain expectations (real or imagined).
One is a stickler for routine/habit.
One is guilt-stricken because one has made a promise to self or others.
One is worried to lose readers (social media gurus' mantra: don't miss a post!)
One loves doing it!

I am somewhere in the midst of all that, to be honest. On different days, different things propel me. It may be the same for you  - for coaching your kids, baking, designing or fishing!

But here's my top 2 reasons for keeping at it - giving it time, energy, attention - even if it doesn't pay any bills or bring other rewards commonly hoped for including fame (or infamy) and a following!


reason #1 : writing 'saves' me.

It does not save me the way God my savior does. But it is an ally in the process. Writing is the instrument of choice when it comes to gaining clarity, solidifying conviction, gathering heart rhythms onto a score sheet to see what tune it is playing.

I did not see it coming. But I have been teaching Journaling as a Spiritual Discipline for three years now; and it is such a delight to see hearts and minds awaken to deeper things!

Personally, with many thoughts and ideas bobbing around the waters of my soul-brain; I always feel much better each time after I write.

This belongs with a strange paradox worded like this by Jesus ~

"unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it remains but a seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds." ~ John 12v24

When we give of ourselves, we take a risk and die to any self-preservation and protection. What I write can be misunderstood, misread or taken out of context. I could be labeled, accused, or bound up in some neat box by someone's notion of sensibility and right/wrong.

It isn't just writing. It is doing anything we find worthwhile and for which we will labour and 'put yourself out there'. Artists of all stripes understand this.

But this is God's way. Life comes on the back of sacrifice.

And lest we fed on a diet of heroics think this is Life for others; I have found, it is much more Life for myself first. Writing is like other aspects and areas of work and commitment: if God has called us to do it; the many seeds it produces is harvested first from our own lives.

Ask the mother who has the satisfaction of seeing her child come of age and mature well. In truth, the fruit of her labour and sacrifice were being carved onto her soul as she doles out the love each day.

Or the pastor / coach / manager who sees his efforts bear fruit, those hours of being alongside now seeing fruition as the mentoree / athelete / protege rise up to their potential. In truth, their persevering, believing, offering of second chances shaped their leadership ethos deeply.

I find that what God calls us to do serves us more than it serves Him. In his sufficiency and unfathomable wisdom; I doubt my few words put a dent in his univaserse. If it does, there is no way I can measure it. Sure, a comment or two may pop up (and that's really nice!), but where I can measure the difference is right here between the ribs!


reason #2: writing is words is meaning is power

Since God spoke the first words that became solid colour, design and life.
Since the Law was given.
Since the prophets railed and ranted.
Since The Word came in the flesh.
Since the bible was compiled.

There has been a battle to silent the Word. 

'Did God say...?' -- doubting the Word, began in the garden. It continues through the ages with skeptics, cynics, critics and couch potatoes. The word is sneered at, made light of, out-rightly rejected and rebutted.

What strange power. Sounds represented by letters strung together explode into embodiment of value, principle, truth, Life. Or else, falsehood, vain glories, exaggeration, simplification or distortion. It is an amazing thing this!

Today, this power is buzzing in many hands that hold a little device which allows each one to set forth their views and feelings with little censure.


So since God tapped me on the shoulder and pointed me in the direction of my bent - this love for words, this quest for meaning - He has given, shaped, edited my life and given me words for what I think, feel, intuit... and then He had said, "be bold and say it". I choose to believe that my very clumsy, often inadequate words are resonating a deeper, stronger Eternal One.

So reason # 2 can also be called Obedience.

Again, I do not always get to see the outcomes of my obedience. But as a child eager to please the parent, I am eager to do what blesses my Father's heart. And if the little lad and his lunch of fish and bread instructs me, I only have to bring what I have -- He takes it, breaks it, and can use it to satisfy the hunger of who-knows-how-many? I wait with wide-eye wonder to see what all the words over time will do.

Together with reason #1, this writing, this post, is then a Joyful Obedience.

Perhaps a cheeky borrowing of a famous verse ~

For God so loves me 

that He called me to write

to save my own soul

and encourage others.

start / keep that gratitude journal - here's why.

It's nearly a standard medicine that I dole out.

Women and men, children of all ages, if you come to me with a woe or worry, after listening... I will definitely tell you among other things, to keep a gratitude journal. Yes, each day, before the dark blankets, write down on your phone, notebook or Typo journal 3 items you are grateful. It doesn't have to be huge, grand, interesting, or life-changing. Just 3 things you notice, stuff that made you -

smile {that silly pigeon cleaning itself for Ms World?}
blush {that affirmation, wow, thank-you}
gush {funny, interesting, thought-provoking, maybe ice-cream}

Like this:

(got you!)

This is how to do 'rejoice always'. It's to notice that there is an undercurrent of defiant joy in life. A force that refuses to beat down and defeated by naysayers, blues and even evil.

Look at these children in Calcutta -

I know we have disappointments, frustrations, hurts, and pains - some ongoing and not seeming to get better. But if you are a middle-class Singaporean, I am guessing you can find some relief - a good book, spa, high-tea, even travel.

Yet.

These things may not lead us to that river that sends out those currents of joy! You see, the joy is there. It needs to be noticed, recorded, practiced. Slowly as the joy seeps into our crevices and cracks, it flows to all the places and spaces ..... washes, feeds fills and ... it flows forth from us.
Joy can become us. We can be joy containers and bringers!

And if more of us were open, receptive, and laughing? If more of us were generous, forgiving, chill? If more of us were teachable, tender, humble.....

.... What will the world shape up around us to be?


There is now enough scientific evidence* to tell us that God's call to us to rejoice is not only practical, it is needful. Gratitude strengthens our immunity, raises our resilience, infuses hope, and even re-wires our neural circuitry! Giving thanks taps into Joy and this amazing force of heaven can crack the hardest nut!

Friends, there will be darkness out there. But there is light given to those who desire it. And that light enters your being and shines from there. The darkness loves to encroach and have us believe that it is far too strong and massive, a deep, penetrating, sense-surround reality. Like its Master of deception and denial; the dark loves to flaunt its influence way beyond it's actual ability and powers. It fools us into cowardice, fear, and despondency.

If you have turned your life over toe God and accepted His forgiveness and gift of eternal life; the enemy knows he can only fool you. So he sets out an elaborate scheme, scheduled and timed to volley one in your direction, to  target your weakest areas, to deafen you to The Voice by doing voices which sound so much like your own, those you love and even God's!

I'm so stupid to make this choice
Now you are stuck, there's no way out!
You had better not sin, or things will only get worse

The Light? It just shines and dispels the dark. But not under a bushel, or under a bed. Not in some hidden spot. Take that light out! Put it someplace prominent. Let is draw your attention to its lovely glow. Bask in its warmth.

Easy first steps to do this? Light Spotting. Joy jotting. 

God is light.
He is Joy.
In him is Life.
From him comes healing, and hope.

Start from the strand that easy to grasp: spot and record 3 things each day that made you smile, blush or gush.

Try it. Start today. Get a friend to do it together. Share it on Facebook.

"Keep your eyes open. keep each other's spirit up so that no ones falls behind or drops out" {Ephesians 6, The Message}

P.S.
And  O friends, I am so grateful about this I just wanted to shout it out! A new friend, someone I whose thoughts and words I respect and read has written a long, kind, meaningful review of my book, Shed Those Leaves.

This one is in the gratitude journal along with my cat's antics, the son's jokes, the less gruff reply from the mighty teen, and being able to walk in the park.

*some sources:
http://greatergood.berkeley.edu/expandinggratitude
http://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/in-praise-of-gratitude-201211215561
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ocean-robbins/having-gratitude-_b_1073105.html