Category: Our stories

On a recent family road trip, we stopped at least once an hour. No exaggeration. By the fifth potty stop for the same child, it was all I could do to hold my tongue as we walked to the restroom. I felt impatience filling me like a balloon, and I was about to burst.

I can’t even tell you which rest stop it was or what state we were in, but the Lord reminded me of this verse tucked into Genesis, “…I will lead on slowly…at the pace of the children” (Gen 33:14). Jacob’s words slow me down every time.

At the pace of the children…

When my son can’t find his shoe and everyone else is in the car.

When my daughter takes twice as long to eat her lunch as the rest of her siblings.

When my two-year-old decides to potty-train, something I didn’t write on the agenda for the first week of school.

When one child takes longer to learn to read than other siblings.

When a sleepy toddler needs to be carried halfway through a family walk.

Whenever I feel like a child is slowing me down; whenever my plans or time schedule are interrupted; whenever my children move slower than I prefer, I remember—

At the pace of the children.

Instead of raising his voice or driving his family too hard, and instead of forcing his family to speed up, Jacob slowed down. He led his family slowly. He let them set the pace.

He recognized their limitations and acknowledged their needs. He adjusted to their pace instead of making them adapt to his speed.

In a similar way, Isaiah says that God is like a shepherd who will “gently lead those that are with young.” God is gentle, displaying great forbearance and patience with us.

And these truths deflate that balloon inside of me, the one so close to bursting. So much more is at stake on this parenting journey than reaching our destination at a certain time.

How I think about, speak to, treat, and behave when my child’s bladder is full matters. Will I display love, patience, forbearance, and kindness? Or disdain, impatience, rudeness, and angry words?

Will I treat my children as I’ve been treated? Will I remember my Savior’s patience with me? Will I build margin into our life together?

What will my children remember from our road trip? What will they remember from their childhood?

After our bags are unpacked and the car is unloaded, I stop my husband and thank him. I thank him for leading us home at the pace of the children. And I thank God for being patient with me.

*via Loving My Children

I used to hate doing laundry until about a year ago when I had an amazing lady give me some great advice!

I now LOVE doing laundry- especially matching socks together!!

Why?? Because I now have turned it into a prayer time for my children and my husband.

When I reach for one of my children’s socks, I find the mate and put the two together. I then pray over my child and their future mate. I take time to pray a protection around them, that their love would be strong for God and for each other, and that they would always honor God by putting Him first. Sometimes I don’t find the matching mate and those go into the “not matched” stack. I like to think of those as the mate my child could have been with but because of prayers- they will be matched with the right one.

Then, I match my husbands socks and I pray over him. I know he does a lot in these socks and his load is heavy at times. I pray that God would bless and lead his steps as He follows after God.

I’m crazy enough to believe that prayer works and I’m crazy enough to think folding laundry and praying can bring about crazy blessings!!

So, what are you waiting for… Go get some laundry and start praying. I believe you will start seeing amazing things for your children and spouse!

*via Cecil Leah Whitton

Right now, they take everything from me.

My time.

My energy.

My prayers.

My sleep.

My body.

My passion.

My sense of order.

My last bite.

My income.

My breath.

My space.

My plans.

My progress.

My career.

My ears.

My voice.

My hands.

My hugs.

My heart.

Right now, they take everything from us.

But right now, we’re everything to them.

We’re in the thick of sacrifice and long days and little sleep and immense disorder.

Yet in this season with young ones, we are more needed and adored than ever. Arguably more so than we may ever be again.

This fleeting season is a fleeting opportunity.

An opportunity to build an unshakeable bond that remains when we are less needed, less adored in future days.

Let us live out this opportunity well.

*via Paige Pippin

She’s 80.

He’s 85.

They’ve both done life.

And lots of it.

But their first glance look

is one for the books.

Their entire wedding

beats almost all I’ve ever shot. . .

This is her farmhouse;

a family farmhouse. . .

It’s over 130 years old.

It burnt down once.

It was just used to store hay for a while. . .

but it was rebuilt.

It’s the house her daddy was born in.

And now,

no one lives here.

It’s been kept in the family forever.

Her kids decided to start fixing it up for her,

and she decided it’s where she wanted to marry Jim.

Hundreds of their family members gathered to watch. . . .

and every moment of today

felt like home.

I love how . . . somehow . . .

that mirror

caught her reaction

better than I did.

Grow older with me,

the best is yet to be.

*via Jordan Burch Photography

You’ll never remember these nights.

The nights I go to bed early for you.

The nights I leave my comfy spot on the couch beside your Daddy to snuggle and nuzzle you instead.

You’ll never remember these nights.

But I will.

The nights my 33-year-old body sleeps on the smallest sliver of my king-size bed.

The nights I spend silently fighting you for an adequate amount of blanket and space.

You’ll never remember these nights.

But I will.

The nights I lie in bed, asking God if I’m raising you right.

The nights I question if someone, anyone, could and would do it better.

You’ll never remember these nights.

But I will.

The nights I park myself next to you, listening to you breathe.

The nights I lie there, smelling your hair and studying your beautiful face.

You’ll never remember these nights.

But I will.

I will remember them for the rest of my life, because I’m your mother.

*via Jthreenme

From Adriane~

Our family had a scare tonight that could have been tragic but God protected our family. Elizabeth (8) was taking a bath in our jacuzzi bathtub.

She went under the water to rinse her hair. The suction valve quickly sucked her hair through the holes in the suction cover, pinning her under the water. Thankfully, the water wasn’t covering her mouth and she was able to scream for help.

Had the water been any higher or had we not been in the room, the outcome may have been very different. We wanted to share here because we’ve never even thought of something like this happening and we want others to be aware.

After we drained the water, Jason was able to carefully thread her hair out. We were prepared to cut it off, but since she was not in any harm, we took a few minutes to save her hair.

Night shift doesn’t suck. Staying up all night doesn’t suck. Drinking coffee all night long doesn’t suck. What sucks is constantly trying to function as a normal human being when the sunlight come out.

It’s having insomnia on your nights off and being forced to still be awake during the day because you have to go to the store, appointments, work out, or hang out with your family because they think you’re ignoring them. It sucks passing out in the middle of the day and feeling like a failure because you had a to do list and all you did was sleep.

It’s feeling guilty for sleeping when you in fact are sleep deprived. It’s waking up to random phone calls in the middle of the day because that’s when people call and you don’t put your phone on silent because you’re worried work is gunna call.

It’s driving home in the sunrise while screaming and slapping yourself so you don’t fall asleep. It’s having to constantly explain to someone that you know you don’t work till 7pm but you have to take a nap to stay awake all night.

It’s people not understanding that it wouldn’t be normal for you to wake up at 2am and start your day but most nightshifters start their day at 2pm. It’s the constant shadow of exhaustion that never goes away. It’s being asked what’s wrong when you’re just tired, you’re always tired.

It’s feeling sick because you don’t sleep enough or you ate too little or too much because you’re not sure if you eat all day while you’re home or all night while at work. There is a lot I like about the actual night shift but don’t for a second think it doesn’t come with a sacrifice. It will never get easier while attempting to have normal days on your day off and then going back to pulling all nighters. Not looking for sympathy just expressing frustration and to ask you to please try not to judge the bags under our eyes.

Credit https://www.facebook.com/Aisha.Colecamp

Guilty

I’m sorry I shouted at you today. I’m sorry that I wouldn’t let you have treats in the shop because of your behaviour.

I’m sorry I don’t always have the time right when you want me to do something with you. It’s not that mummy don’t want to spend time with you but mummy has housework she needs to do.

She has to do the washing and the washing up. She has to cook dinner and run your bath for you. My main job is to protect and look after you, make sure you are safe and clean. You are my very best friend and you say I am yours but I’m sorry sometimes I have to be your mother before your friend.

I feel like my main sentence to you is ‘I will sit down with you and read a book, or do a puzzle or colour a picture it’s just mummy has to do this first’ and I’m sorry for that.

Every night when I come into your bedroom when you are sleeping I promise myself I will do better tomorrow, we will do the stuff you ask. The next day comes and there is always something for me to do. It’s tough doing this alone, but ever so rewarding. I don’t have to share you with anyone and I don’t have to ask permission for anything. There is nothing I won’t do for you, no matter what it is. I love you my child, always.

Single Working mum

I just want to put this out there first, I love both my children very much. I would do anything for either of them, no matter the cost. After having my second child I decided I didn’t want any more children, I was happy with them.

Once my youngest was able to talk freely and tell me what she wanted or if she was hurt I felt she was ready for nursery and me to go back to work. Her speech is very advanced for her age, you could have a full blown conversation with her by the age of 18months.

So she went to nursery and I got myself a job. I admit it’s not the best job in the world but a job is a job right? Pays the bills and all I was thinking about was giving them a better life, a life I always dreamed of. As I stated before, I love my children dearly but oh my, it is so tiring!

I may only work 5 and half hours a day but my actual day starts at 6am and don’t finish until 7pm, every single day. All the time at work I get ‘your so lucky you get to leave when you do’ these people don’t have children.

These people don’t understand that I don’t just go home and do what I want, like they do. I don’t just go to the pub with friends or go out for food. I pick both my children up from school. I take them home. I cook them dinner. Help my eldest with reading and homework. I then bath my children and they then settle down for bed.

Once they are in bed I think to myself ‘i should really get some washing done or maybe pick the toys up’ I then look at the toys around me and I don’t want to move. It’s so nice just sitting on the sofa, peace and quiet with a cup of coffee. After about half an hour I’m bored so I tidy up, have a bath and then go to bed to recharge for the next day. This is my routine and I love it and wouldn’t have it any other way, I just wish it was not so draining.