Gracious Mercy…sometimes

         Many times as a parent to my children I’ve been faced with the bad choices that they’ve made and had to use my mom brain to rationalize what the next step is to better their lives. Often times I find myself overwhelmed with the daily grind that I end up getting flustered. So I fall back on my heart. What is my heart telling me to do? Sometimes I mess up, but most of the time it’s spot on.

Do you take away her makeup because she wore too much eye shadow or her lipstick is too dark? Do I take away the Xbox for the night because he didn’t take the trash out? Do I ground them for a D in math (even though I couldn’t teach them the math they need because I suck at math)? Do I yell at her because she’s yelling at me? Do I question him until I’m blue in the face?

No. Just simply, no. Sometimes you give them grace. You quiet your inner voices and you listen. Life is filled with chaos and loud noises and movement. There has to be a time that we teach them what grace looks like. How grace sits, and moves and feels like. We have to show them where to find it. What better person to show them, then their mother.

Grace is the loving hand that sweeps the hair from their face when they’re intently talking about what they did wrong? Grace is the relaxed face that’s giving them kind direct eye contact. Grace is the soft tone you use as you say, “I can understand how that would make you feel honey.” Grace is the comfortable hug that comes after the truth has been revealed instead of the expected lashing of venomous words laced with disappointment.

   When everything is done and they are looking at you with those puppy eyes, reach within yourself and hand them mercy. They need to know that everyone deserves unconditional love and affection freely given. Don’t ever punish by withholding love and affection. It’s a mean cruel world out there. They will learn that soon enough. Sooner than you’ll ever be ready for.

Mercy is compassion or forgiveness shown towards someone whom it is within one’s power to punish or harm. Mercy is sitting down with them and listening to their reasons for what they did and not responding in a negative way. Mercy is simply telling them, “I love you,” instead of issuing a consequence. Mercy is letting them make the mistake and allowing them to feel their own disappointment and showering them with love for learning a difficult lesson the hard way.

When you’re at your limit and they pushed the button for the last time, show them mercy. When you’ve explained the rules and they broke them, give them mercy. When they knew what was right but chose to do what was wrong instead, hand them mercy instead.

Give them gracious mercy…sometimes.

Just Be A Good Person

 

 

This last weekend I went to Michelle’s mom’s memorial. I was there to honor her mother and support my best friend in her time of need. I never know what to say or how to act at events like these, so I made myself available for anything Michelle would need.

While I was sitting there in the church next to her, I just kept thinking about what I’d want someone to do for me if I was in her shoes and I couldn’t come up with an answer. So I resolved to just listen to the people talk about her mom and watching the photo’s of Geri’s life flash up on the screen.

I had only a few encounters with Michelle’s Mom. I’ve heard stories from Michelle telling me about what kind of mom she was and I’ve witnessed how people treated Geri because they had admiration for her and how she would sacrifice countless hours sewing costumes or attending various events to watch her loved ones. This is how I knew Geri.

Watching the photo’s and listening to the memories of her through other people’s stories she truly seemed like a heartfelt woman. Always willing to do anything for everyone.

But it wasn’t until Michelle asked me to join her in front of everyone while she spoke of her mom, that the real message came to me. Michelle was talking about a time in her life when she feared what her mom would say about her coming home with her first tattoo. She was afraid of judgement and possibly punishment. But Geri didn’t have any of that, she simply said, “I don’t care how many tattoo’s you get as long as you’re a good person.”

I mulled that over for most of the day into the next few days. That’s the golden rule for parenting and just being an adult or a child. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes you make, tattoo’s you get or how many different hair colors you go through or relationships that end. What matters is if you’re a good person.

So what determines if you’re a good person? I think it’s subjective to everyone, but for me it would mean you’re reliable, trustworthy, caring, kind, generous, affectionate, a good listener, non-judgemental, appreciative, polite, use good manners, and they smile. The key to all of these characteristics is that they do all of these behaviors without wanting or expecting anything in return.

When you send your children out into the world to visit with family, spend the night at a friends house, or they start their first day on the job, these are times that your parenting comes into play. How they act when they aren’t around their parents. Will they use their manners, will they say Please and Thank You? Will they make the right choice to be honest even if they know they made a mistake?

That’s all I can hope for as a mom.

As an adult, it doesn’t matter if you’ve had a speeding ticket, $.50 in your checking account, if you missed church service or even if you attend at all, it doesn’t matter if you wear black clothes every day or if you’re overweight, underweight or just right, it doesn’t matter if you have bad breath or smell like fine perfume. What matters if you’re there for your best friend when her mother is passing away. What matters is if you choose to say nice things to the man behind the counter who seems to be having a bad day. It matters when you give your last cupcake that you were saving for yourself, to your mom when she comes over and wants it.

JUST CHOOSE TO BE A GOOD PERSON IN EVERY OPPORTUNITY THAT YOU GET!

Geri’s time was cut short on this earth due to cancer. Though she’s gone, it’s nice to know that she left her mark on this world through good deeds, raising an amazing daughter and helping raise her two grandchildren. They carry her spirit with them in the people they’ve become and that’s the beauty of her.

 

Welcome to Crumbling Town – Spellcheck Your Levity at Door

Well said!

Happiness IS Content

After completing young adulthood, Beth found herself a husband.

After completing several years of being married, Beth found herself wanting a family of her own.

After completing two miscarriages, Beth found herself fertility treatments.

After several very long anxious months, Beth found herself finally pregnant.

After 40 weeks of very intense anticipation and being scared of the unknown, Beth found herself being induced for labor.

Click Here & just listen while reading

…and this is where our story picks up.

I sat in the room with my sister and her husband and his mom. My only tie to the room was the woman sitting in the bed, anxious to get the ball rolling. Thinking she knew what to expect. Thinking she was tough enough. This is what she’d been preparing for, for years.

She sat in the bed with her sister, her husband and her mother-in-law. Feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve. She had a plan. She rehearsed it until she knew it by heart. She couldn’t wait to meet her son Avery.

I sat with my thoughts running through my head. If anyone tries to do anything she doesn’t want done, I will be stepping in to make sure her delivery goes perfectly according to her plan and if anyone has an opinion on the matter, her husband would step in to protect his wife and unborn child.

She sat on the bouncing ball while the pitocin coursed through her veins. She breathed through the contractions and I seen her hands grasp her nightgown when they were too painful. She didn’t want to scream out. She didn’t want to be a sissy-la-la and say it was hurting.

I sat in a chair next to her, assisting in a silent way that only two sisters could. She embraced the familiar presence of someone who use to annoy her as a child. She accepted the comforting that only an older sister can give her younger sister.

She sat on the bouncing ball while I stepped out to get a bite to eat with her Mother-in-law. I told her, “think about an epidural. You’ll stop tensing up and you will progress quicker than only being 4 cm. Just think about it. I’ll be back in a few.”

I sat in the cafeteria patiently, waiting for my food to be small enough to swallow pass the lump in the throat. It hurt me to be away from my sister. I had only felt this feeling twice in my life and one of them was on the night our brother passed away. I wanted to go into that room of her’s and take away all her pain and just place that beautiful baby in her arms.

She sat on the bed while she got her epidural. Relaxing enough to let little Avery make his descent into his mother’s arms. After only 45 minutes, Beth was able to start pushing.

I sat out in the lobby with our dad. Anxiously listening to the speaker squawking different names to different floors. Randomly, a baby lullaby would play, letting everyone in the hospital hear that a baby was born. I knew Avery was almost here when Beth sent me a photo of her pushing, smiling giving two thumbs up. Moments later the lullaby played. I looked at our dad, tears in his eyes and streaming down my face. “He’s here dad.”

She sat in the bed holding her baby safely in her arms made just for him. The peace that was on her face shined like a bright sun over a breezy day in California. They were made for each other. I knew things would be hard at times, but I knew she’s got this. She’s Avery’s Mommy now.

I sat on the bed with my sister and my nephew and felt the lump in my throat disappear. I felt my heart soar with pride. My life was happy now. No more worrying, Avery made it safely home. No more stressing out over little things that could go wrong. My sister now holds her inspiration to make life memories, cherish the little moments and to hold her sweet baby next to her heart.

She was laying in her hospital bed with the lights out when the nurse came into her room and suggested that she put the baby in his bassinet and get some sleep. Being a first time mommy, she said, “Ok.” Once the nurse left, the pain plucked her heart strings that she’d have to let go of him; even if long enough to put him in the bassinet. Not wanting to be apart from him, she did what she always does.

I was laying in my guest bed at her house, when my text message alarm, “IT’S SO FLUFFY” screamed out so loud in my dark empty room disturbing my thoughts about wondering what my sister was doing at this very moment. That’s when I read, “are you asleep?” So I texted back, “Of course I wasn’t.”

She was on the other line telling me with a quiver in her voice, “they want me to sleep and put him in his bassinet…but I don’t want to Alena. I just want to hold him.” My heart ached and the lump was back in my throat again as the tear trailed its way down my cheek.

I layed there suppressing my aggressive sister rage towards the nurse and told my sister, “You’re his mom. You call the shots now. Lay on your side with your back to the door and place that baby in between you and a pillow on the edge of the bed. You won’t hurt that baby.” I felt the pride transfer from me into her in that moment through the phone.

We hung up.

I laid in the bed, trying to force myself asleep.

I wanted to go to the hospital and make sure Avery was in her arms.

That’s when, “IT’S SO FLUFFY” went off again.

She sent me a photo.

 

That’s when all three of us fell asleep.

3 Days Until He’s 17

When I was pregnant with Kenny’s little sister Aubry, he was often my Doctor Buddy. He went with me to nearly every doctor’s appointment. Not because he had too, but because he wanted to; plus he got to play with “the really cool toys mom.”

Now you have to remember, we were in the “dirty south”. Southaven Mississippi to be exact. Lots of African-American folks around. This is an every day occurrence in Redding California. So it really took Kenny some getting use to. We were at my doctors office, Kenny and I were the only white people in the waiting room. The rest of the families were African-American. Kenny was over in the kid corner playing with a little black girl. Clearly everyone knew that HE was my son. The rest of us, were sitting very quietly, and I mean, VERY quietly in our chairs awaiting for our names to be called. We could hear every sounds the two children were making.

This is when the little girl turned to Kenny and said, “So what are you going to name your new baby?”

We all sat there, patiently awaiting his response. But me, being his mom, knew. Just knew he was up to something and what gave him away, was when he slightly turned his head my way, smirked with the biggest, shit eating grin, and said,

“ “

I turned 50 shades of red and said, “KENNY! That is NOT what we are naming your baby sister. What ARE we naming her?” Everyone in the room, had stifled their laughter as best they could while Kenny answered. Kenny looked down at the floor in shame and in his best, most softest well mannered tone, he said, “Aubry Marie.”

Thank God that’s when Dr. Lance Whaley’s nurse called my name, I grabbed our things and shuffled my little Calvin into the doctors area.

That’s when I realized, I knew what Calvin’s mom must have went through. From that moment on, Kenny’s ON button has never went off. He’s clever, witty, and on 24/7. Not a day goes by, hell not a minute goes by without some kind of antic or quip is said.

CLICK HERE for proof