This is Micah. Believe it or not, she’s three and a half. I honestly cannot believe how quickly the past year has flown by. One minute, I was writing all about her adventures as a rambunctious little two and a half year old, and the next minute an entire year had passed. How is that possible?
At any rate, since I devoted an entire post to Kendall the other day, I figure it’s only fair to devote another one to Micah. Attention hog that she is, I’m sure she would agree.
My little girl loves, I mean LOVES playing dress up. The tackier the better. Most days, as soon as she’s finished with breakfast, she heads for her dress up bin and starts piling on the layers. In case you were wondering, as long as it matches your tutu, a Santa hat is always in season.
She’s one big ball of energy. The girl never slows down. If I get a decent picture of her, it’s nothing short of a miracle. She’s constantly on the go. She’s a girly girl, for sure, but she’s not afraid to get sweaty either. She loves playing outside, kicking the soccer ball, and running hither and yon.
Unless of course, she’s zoned out watching Sofia the First with her babies, which, by the way, is one of her favorite pasttimes. She’s been playing “Mama” for a long time, and she thinks she has it all down pat. I learn a lot about myself when I hear her talking to her babies. The girl repeats verbatim things I say to her all the time. Which means that she does, in fact, hear me, even if she pretends that she doesn’t.
She’s a really good big sister. She loves Kendall, and she gets a major kick out of making her little sister giggle. No one can make Kendall laugh like Micah. Kendall adores her big sister, and for good reason. Micah can be so sweet when she wants to be. Fortunately, most of the time she wants to be sweet to her sister. That will probably change in years to come :)
She loves drawing, and, recently she’s actually started to draw pictures instead of just scribbling on the page. For a long time, she refused to attempt to draw anything. She would hand me a crayon and ask me to draw a picture of a house…or a little girl…or a flower…or a sun…but she wouldn’t even attempt to do so herself. Then all of a sudden one day while I was filling some orders in the etsy shop, I looked up, and she had drawn a picture of the two of us, complete with a rainbow over our heads. She never ceases to amaze.
I love this little girl. She thinks I’m amazing, but I know the truth: she’s far more amazing than I will ever be. I pray that she never loses the sparkle in her big blue eyes – that she never takes herself too seriously – that she will always be her sister’s protector – and most of all, that she would grow into a young woman who loves and serves the Lord with all of her heart.
This little lady makes me laugh daily. She reminds me to just let go and live a little. She has brought such joy into my life, and I love her so.
Until next time, grace and peace.
I know that the big day isn’t until Sunday, but I didn’t want to wait until then. I’ll never be able to thank you for everything you’ve done for me over the past 30 years, and I hope you know that I wouldn’t trade you for any other mother in the entire world. You’re the only one I want.
“Most of all the other beautiful things in life come by twos and threes, by dozens and hundreds. Plenty of roses, stars, sunsets, rainbows, brothers and sisters, aunts and cousins, comrades and friends—but only one mother in the whole world.”
—Kate Douglas Wiggin
Love you, Mama.
I feel like I’ve been sleepwalking over the past few months, and I’m just now starting to wake up. I mean, I’ve been here, going through the motions, feeding the girls and changing diapers and playing outside, but at the same time, I haven’t been here. I’ve been missing out on the wonder of everyday life.
The other day, I was reading through the first chapter of Margaret Feinberg’s Wonderstruck again, and her words resonated with me. They fit me like a glove – I very well could have written them myself.
“Faith invites us into an enchanting journey—one marked by mysteries of divine beauty, holy courage, irrepressible hope, unending love. But in my life, any sense of the splendor of God had faded. I knew I needed a fresh encounter with God to awaken me from my sleep, to disturb me from my slumber.
And so I prayed for wonder.”
I know I’m not alone here. As I played outside with the girls yesterday, Kendall was absolutely mesmerized by these bubbles. Something so simple and commonplace – and yet they were nothing of the sort to her. She was wonderstruck…and I was convicted. I’m afraid that I’ve stopped allowing myself to be wonderstruck, not just by God, but by anything at all.
I have stopped expecting to meet God in this everyday life. Instead of straining to hear His voice, I’ve all but tuned Him out. And that, my friends, has got to change. These days, I’m praying for wonder. I desperately need a fresh dose of it in my life. As a stay at home mom, it’s entirely too easy to get sucked into the monotony of wiping snotty noses and fixing peanut butter sandwiches…again.
It doesn’t have to be that way, y’all. We can choose to be awestruck instead of rundown, filled with wonder instead of running on empty. It’s a matter of perspective.
I don’t want to miss out on amazing things simply because I was too groggy to see them. I’m waking up and praying for wonder.
What are you praying for?
Until next time, grace and peace.
Newsflash: Mother’s Day is coming up soon and will be here before you know it – May 12th, to be exact. This year, I’ve designed a freebie for you that’s directly drawn from something my little girl tells me every day, at least 37 times a day.
Over the past several months, Micah has dubbed all girls amazing and all boys awesome. She routinely calls out to me while she’s playing just to remind me that I’m amazing.
This is how the conversation goes:
Micah: “Hey Mama!”
Me: “What is it, baby?”
Micah: “You’re amazing!”
Me: “You’re amazing too, Micah.”
Micah: “I know.”
As you can imagine, it’s pretty amazing for my self esteem.
In honor of my self-assured little girl, I’ve created a free printable Mother’s Day card for all of you who have mothers as amazing as me :)
Until next time, grace and peace.
THE SMALL PRINT: You may not accept credit for the design of this card or sell it to anyone. Felicity Paper retains the copyright. If you wish to share the digital file with others, please direct them to this post. Do not e-mail the file all over the world. Please don’t link directly to the download file. Click to download your Free Printable Amazing Mama Card!Pin It
When Dennis and I first moved into our house in Iuka, we were excited to be out of our cramped little apartment and have a little bit of space to move around. Then we started walking through the yard and noticed that where there should have been grass, there was a thick layer of dandelions. And, in case you didn’t know, dandelions are like the black plague of landscaping. They’re tough little boogers to get rid of.
Right now, I’m realizing that pride has taken root in my heart like a yard full of dandelions. It’s a sneaky thing, really, because you don’t realize how dangerous it is and how deeply its roots have burrowed until you start trying to rip them out.
My most recent battle with pride has to do with my girls. When others gush over my girls’ gorgeous blue eyes (they are stunning, if I do say so myself) and praise Micah’s smarts (because she’s a child genius, y’all) or Kendall’s laid-back personality (who doesn’t love an easy-going baby?), I swell with pride. And not just a little bit of pride. It’s a lot of it.
If it were just those things that I’m prideful over, it might not be so bad, but it goes deeper than that.
For three and a half years I’ve gloated over the relatively good health of my kids. As if I had anything to do with it. Seriously. Micah NEVER got an ear infection as a baby. She was rarely sick, and when she did come down with a cold, she bounced back quickly. Other people’s children suffered from chronic ear infections and were always sick, but not mine. My kids were perfect, and I was proud of it.
Until now. When Micah came home from preschool in early December with a nagging cough, I never dreamed that we would still be battling its lingering effects two months later. And yet, here we are. First it was Micah. Then it was me. We both hacked and sniffled for nearly a month before the antibiotics finally did their work and we got better.
But then Kendall started coughing. And then she got her first little ear infection and took her first round of antibiotics. Ever. And then the ear infection came back, so we stepped it up to the next level of antibiotics. Ten days of that, and I thought she’d be better (because my kids ALWAYS bounce back), but over the weekend, she started going downhill AGAIN, so I took her back to the doctor yesterday morning.
Guess what? The infection is back and worse than ever before. Her poor little eardrum is so swollen that it’s on the verge of rupture.
And I nearly cried. Especially when I realized that I was taking these ear infections personally. I’m ashamed to admit that they have seriously wounded my pride. Yes, I’m concerned about my daughter and her health, but I’m also concerned about my track record as a parent, and that’s shameful.
The crazy thing is, I know how ridiculous this all sounds. It’s stupid for me to be prideful of my daughters’ health because the truth is that their wellness has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the grace of God. The only reason that we have enjoyed three and a half years without any major issues is because the Lord has willed it so. Period.
As a mom, it’s far too easy to take credit for how great my kids are, even if I have nothing to do with whatever it is that people are praising. My greatest temptation is to pass off the work of the Lord as my own – to accept all the credit when really, all the glory is due to Him alone.
It’s no secret that the baby years are hard for me. When I see other mothers floating through the early months of their kids’ lives on a fluffy pink cloud of bliss, I want to gag. I always assume that they’re just pretending. The reason that I assume that? Well, in my experience, God has used both marriage and motherhood as chisels, chipping away at my character and removing anything that doesn’t reflect His likeness.
Apparently, there was a lot of junk that needed to be cleared away, and, in case you’re wondering, it’s not exactly fun. It’s painful. But hey, I’ve heard that the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem. So this is my confession. My name is Leslie Ann Jones, and I’m a recovering pride-a-holic.
When stuff like this happens, I am reminded that God is still working on me. Right now He’s helping me realize that the pride that I have tolerated for so long has taken root in my heart, and it’s time to do something about it. Thankfully, He’s pretty good at wrenching out things that don’t belong.
Until next time, grace and peace.
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