Our sweet, strong-willed Eli J

I’m not sure if it is because we are doing a series in Mentor Moms on discipline, because God is so committed to humble me, or because sweet Eli J is officially in his two’s (or a combination of all three), but the Lord has been forcing me to stare at the Jordan lately. I have been studying Joshua with some senior girls at Furman and recently have been in Joshua 3 and 4, the miraculous crossing of the Jordan River. What is curious to me about the whole thing is that before the Lord parts the flooding river (about a mile wide and significantly deep), He commands them to camp at the banks of the river for three whole days. Why would He do that? God wanted them to take a good long look at the impossibility of the task before them, at their utter helplessness to make God’s will happen. He wanted them to lift their eyes to the mountains from whence would come their help (Psalm 121).

After a scary sermonette by Dr. James Dobson on the defiant child (I hate that terminology, such a negative connotation) and the realization (should have known for awhile, but Eli’s happy disposition can persuade me otherwise) that we, in fact, have a strong-willed little man on our hands, I have been coming to see my own desperate need for the Lord’s strength, wisdom, perseverance and grace.

I hate tension and just want to fold after putting up a fairly long and intense fight. Eli, on the other hand, like someone else we know,  is not at all afraid of confrontation. A bad combo, right? Or a good combo, depending on how you look at it.

From the eyes of flesh and fear, it seems like a scary and unwise pairing, but the Lord knows much better and has called it good. Good because it humbles me, good because it forces me to rely on Him and not on myself, good because He has so much in store for that strong-will in Jay bird.

Monica, St. Augustine’s mother, when worried about her son (who was in “much worse shape” than crazy J in that he was living as a wanton heretic), approached a godly priest to seek his advice. He told her that there was nothing he could say to promise how her son would turn out; however, as she was walking despondently out the door, he said, “A child of such tears shall surely not perish” (or something to that effect, from The Confessions). Thinking of that quote and praying for grace to shepherd Eli J into the glory self that God intended him to become, I wrote this poem.

A Child of Such Tears

Tears stream down from tired eyes, outward expressions of inner grief.

Limited wisdom for an endless task, within myself, I’ll never find relief.

If a grain of sand or snow is complex, than how much more an eternal soul;

Yet to parents as fellow fallen creatures You have entrusted a shepherding role.

Meeting physical needs is a challenge, yet to leading the soul it does not compare.

You keep bringing me to the edge of myself; at my inability you force me to stare.

Lord, you have created His inmost being, and that same sweet truth applies to me.

You, who brought this family together must lend wisdom abundant and free.

A child of such tears shall not perish, owing solely to your provision of grace.

Lord, help me to fight for his soul, until He stands before You face to face.

G’Joe has now won me to his side of the story: boys need to have good shoes; thus, we can splurge on shoes (splurge in our terms, that is!). I trusted that this must be true when I saw the great joy and confidence beaming both from my husband and my three-year-old as they showed me their prized purchase!

These shoes are HUGE! Ty is definitely not a baby. Sweet Eli, being the gracious second child, was equally pleased to now have official rights to the “stinky crocs” that once were Ty’s.

I did not get new shoes, but the Lord did teach me about shoes this week in Deuteronomy 33:24, the blessing of Asher by the Lord via Moses.  The Lord says, “Thou shalt have shoes of iron and brass; And as thy days, so shall thy strength be.”

This verse struck me as odd and fascinating enough to make me look up some sermons and commentaries on it. C.H. Spurgeon said that iron shoes are the peculiar provision from a peculiar God given to a peculiar people with a peculiar calling. I loved that! God does call us to live counter-culturally and counter to the flesh within us, which is an impossible task for us. He calls us to be pilgrims our whole lives long, He calls us to keep climbing to the higher places of fellowship and worship with Him, He calls us to be militant soldiers, fighting bravely and ruthlessly with our spiritual enemies, namely Self.

But he does give us what we need; He gives us iron shoes that can handle the roughest climb, the longest pilgrimage, the most persistent of enemies. He promises provision and strength in proportion. As our days will be, so shall be the strength, patience, perseverance, and holiness. He will give us what we need. we need only look to Him.

So, new sneakers, stinky crocs, and iron shoes it is for the Joseph’s this week. (G is still looking for the perfect boots on E-Bay, so don’t think we are ignoring him).

Making mudpies with the boys really changed my perspective on my attempts at serving the Lord. I really do feel like the boys, wanting so desperately to give my Father something He would love, something He would need, something unique that only I could make and present. And, on the occasions that I come and present whatever that might be before Him, I come so excitedly, so proudly, so hoping He will love it.  I also realized that the Lord is not a food critic waiting to point out all the obvious flaws in my completely inedible and unattractive meal; He is a perfect Father (I only enjoyed this game for like an hour, He enjoys it eternally and completely) who sits very near, very happily enjoying my bustling attempts at presenting Him with something.  ”The God who made the Heavens and the Earth is not served by human hands as though He needed anything; for He gives to men life and breath and all things,” (Acts 17) and yet He sits patiently in my presence ready to graciously welcome my mudpies.

I think that, just for a moment there on the stoop, I got it. He doesn’t want my mudpies; He could care less about them. He wants me. And that makes me want to make Him the most glorious mudpies! 

Our new buddies, Ford and Milly

G’Joe and I got home Monday morning from our trip to San Diego (after our first red-eye flight; now I get the nomenclature). We were so thrilled to be home and see the boys who were just languishing without us (think weeping, gnashing of teeth, and other dramatic signs of sheer depression). Oh, wait, the boys told multiple people that we missed them “a yot” but that they did not miss us yet. That, combined with the facts that my mother told us they hardly even asked about us and  that the first thing they said to us was, “What are our prizes?” led us to believe that contrary to our fears, the boys were just fine without us! Although, I must say that it was so sweet to have both Ty and Eli, at separate times and on a few occasions, run up to me, hug me, and say, “I miss you.” Either way, one thing is for sure, we missed those little boys!

As I look back on our time in California (which was spent mostly meeting with and getting to know members and pastors of Harbor Church to prepare for some spring break trips out there) one verse keep coming to mind. Psalm 16: 3: “As for the saints who are in the land, they are the glorious ones in whom is all my delight.”  I don’t mean saints in the Roman Catholic way (though I do laugh every time my mother repeats, “Sister Mary Bonaface, Help us find a parking space”… once Catholic, always Catholic).  I mean it more in the sense used in the Scriptures (all those who rely on the Lord for life, those far from perfect, but trusting in the Perfect One). The couples and families we met there were no different than any other Christians, in the sense that they were fallen, human, limited; however, it was so sweet to travel all the way across the country and find people who were fellow saints and strugglers, desiring to live out the life of faith modeled by Christ in the heart of San Diego.

The Lord was so gracious to bless our time with Stephen and Bradford Phelan and their three kiddos. We loved  getting so much extended time hanging out with them, laughing, talking about family and faith, and getting to see their city and their lives. A few highlights from our time:

1) It was restaurant week (who knew?) which means we ate at ridiculously awesome restaurants (think overlooking the Pacific Ocean) for less ridiculously high prices! Sushi, Italian, authentic Mexican food, you name it… definitely gained a few lbs; totally worth it!

2) Seeing God’s handiwork. We hiked in Torrey Pines (which is right next to the golf course where the PGA Championship will be this week, I think). Unbelievable (except for the part where G and I lost track of time, thereby having to run the entire trail back to the car because we were, quite literally, running late!). Looking from the top of this cliff, you could see so much of the city. Made me think of Nineveh.. that great city, where people do not know their right hand from their left. Heartbreaking.

3) Worshipping at Harbor Mid City. It was so sweet to see what God is doing in San Diego. He truly is bridging cultures and socioeconomic and racial lines. We sang half of the worship songs in Spanish, half in English. There were wealthy people there and also homeless people. Challenged me to ask, “What risks am I taking for the gospel?” Sweet little glimpse of Heaven where there will be every tribe, every nation, every tongue!

4) The seals. We saw seals in their natural habitat. The biology nerd in me was totally foaming at the mouth. Hundreds of them, just hanging out on the beach, playing in the water. Is it weird that I was more excited than Ford and Milly (the Phelan’s 4 year olds)?

5) So much time getting to partner with my husband (obviously, these are not in order of importance!). What a treat to get to meet students together, explore a campus together, travel together. Definitely a gift, not a right.

I am so thankful that, from time to time, the Lord pulls us away from the normal flow of life in order to refresh us, renew our perspective and send us back in.

The Lord has opened up an opportunity for G and I to travel out to San Diego, California next week to investigate the city and some local campuses for upcoming Spring Break and summer projects. So fun, right? I signed on with little to no hesitation, giddy about extended time with my husband, an adventure in California, a chance to rest a little. Don’t get me wrong, I am still very excited about and grateful for these gifts from the Lord; however, it is just recently hitting me that I will be leaving the boys for like 5 days. My sweet mom will be with them here in Greenville, and I know they will be just fine. They always have a blast with Mamie and barely realize we are gone. But it is not them I am worried about.

Those two little boys, whose combined weight is probably 60 pounds at best, hold so much of my life and my heart. It is hard to realize it in the day to day busyness, potty training, incessant making of PB&J sandwiches, and the bed time procrastination ritual my boys have now gotten down to a science; but those little guys mean so much to me it is scary.

This is so good for me, as it reminds me that they are not mine, but His; they are ours for a season to guide and care for and train and love, but I cannot micromanage their lives, be there for every little moment of sadness or excitement or even every “first.” God is so gracious to remove my false sense of control and security with them for a few short days to remind me that only He is truly in control of their lives. He has their days lovingly numbered, He knows who they will become. There is no safer place for them to be than in His hands and in His loving plan.

G’Joe and I both came down with some awful plague at the Alive Conference (oh the irony of it!) and when we finally made it home from our adventures in DC, our family went into a sort of human hibernation of sorts for aprox a week. Definitely not the days of our best parenting, as we would take pathetic 2 hour shifts of “taking care of the boys” while the other slept. It was semi-sweet to take a little date to the doctor together. We just love to do everything together, so it is fitting we would share bronchitis and an entire counter full of prescriptions. I sort of felt like we had fast-forwarded to our geriatric years. Meanwhile the boys did a wonderful job of taking over the house, eating a steady diet of ‘nola bars and trying to pour their own apple juice, and leaving “wego’s” all over the toy-covered house.

All that to say, we finally started to get well when G’Joe hopped on a plane with Brandon for a blitzkrieg of Dallas, Texas for a dear friend’s wedding. Upon his safe arrival home before the imminent “blizzard,” I sort of had a mini-meltdown (all internal, of course, except for the steam of complaints that made it out of my mouth to my sweet husband). While the Lord had been so gracious to sustain us during conference and through sickness, I had grown weary of clinging to the promise that “He would held her when morning broke; that He would be in the midst of her, and she would not be moved” (Psalm 46). I made a conscious choice to not believe and rather complain and be short-sighted. That night I wrestled through my grumpy attitude and faithlessness, only to awake to snow-covered life.

It was such a sweet gift to me, a reminder that the Lord is true to His promises, even in the silliest things. G’Joe and the boys and I got to have a sweet Monday together to make up for the weekend we had not had due to sickness and travel and busyness. I love that God is like that, He listens to my complaining and grumbling and losing heart patiently, knowing full well the provision He has in store me so soon.

Thus, the Snow Siege was more than welcomed at the Joseph household. Tyus was hysterical and very brave, sliding down the play set slide into huge piles of snow that nearly buried him. He must have done it 20 times! Meanwhile Eli J, who was ambivalent, at best, to the snow, was just standing there, 1/4 amused, 1/4 confused, 1/4 bored, and 1/4 freezing. I think Eli liked the idea of the snow and coming in from playing in the snow, but not so much the snow itself! G and I really aren’t snow people, but guilt and fear that we might be robbing our children of joyful memories compelled us out for a snowball fight and snow man building attempt. We also attempted some ghetto-sledding via a cookie sheet turned sleigh down the negligible hill that is our driveway.

On Tuesday, while G and Eli chose, wisely, to stay snuggled up at home on the couch watching Sports Center, Ty and I (against better judgment) drove on icy roads through a hilly neighborhood to do some genuine sledding (on real sleds, who would’ve thought those would be better than a cookie sheet?) with the Creasman’s and Parham’s at the local golf course. The hill there was incredible, so incredible that I was definitely a little scared. Ty, however, loved every second of it, and laughed when he and I busted at the bottom of said huge hill. His favorite part was going down the hill with Uncle Ben and Jack.

We were so thankful for our short snow siege and the extra and much-needed day of rest as family. God is so good to us!

And we’re back. Again. It seems that I should just resign to only update our blog semi-annually. That would be a bit more realistic. Where to begin, where to begin? The past few months have flown by (though individual days sometimes seem to crawl, especially the really cold-we’re-trapped-inside-and-already-played-pillow-mountain-ten-times days). We had a short stint of excitement about the poor little kitten we found at Lowe’s one night in which the boys were constantly “loving” Boots (usually by every-s0-not-gently picking her up or poking or chasing her). However, Boots has semi-defected to another home where the owners actually allow him inside at night (we did make him a house in the garage, so don’t call PETA). He still visits us by day, so we get the best of both worlds!

In other news, we spent a week in ATL with our staff team for some Training Time. The boys literally get giddy about these weeks, meanwhile I am typically stressing over which toys to pack and praying for peace and grace for all the change in our routines that I so love! It really was a sweet time. We visited with our dear friends the Roland’s who live in Atlanta. As always, we stayed up too late talking and the kids woke up too early to play with the toys that are just the same as ours, but better because they do not belong to us. But it is so worth it to be with like-minded, fun friends who are in the exact same stage of life we are! Plus, it snowed; not that we lasted more than 5 minutes at a time outside, but it was pretty to look at! We wish we could be around Wylie and Lola more (we are thinking possible arranged marriages since we do have some Indian in our blood). It was so sweet to be able to be at a few of the meetings with the staff team; it was a sweet reminder that I get to live out my calling as a mother within the greater calling of Campus Outreach. I love getting to be alongside G as he teaches and coaches and texts throughout the meetings when others speak! He is so good for me (I hate people who try to distract me from the speaker, and I married one… he loosens me up!)

We had early Christmas with my family here at the house. It was quick and chaotic, but such a gift. The boys are so themselves around my mom and dad. My dad told them a bedtime story (a true one about some deep sea fishing tournaments he was in when he was a younger chap) and, as I eavesdropped and peeked in on them from the hallway, I was reminded how much of a privilege it is that the boys get to know my parents and hear their stories. I think Ty might have been scarred for life by the mental images of the sharks flopping all over the deck trying to get away, and Eli J surely did not listen at all, but it was a sweet moment, if only for me!

And Hollywild. What can I say that will do that experience justice? I have not laughed so hard in years. What an insane idea. Only possible in South Carolina. Hundreds of cars driving every which way in a field with animals scared to death everywhere. Think scared zebra getting as close as possible to the fence keeping him in this living hell, while cars surround him on every side trying to shove rye crackers in his mouth. Then think truckload of tweens screaming and trying to get a cow larger than a Tahoe to come and lick their hands and faces. Think my father (a hunter and former gun range owner who is not at all a fan of PETA) who does not mince his words laughing, cursing, and threatening to call PETA for these poor animals. All the while G is making hysterical remarks, while my mom and the boys are loving every minute of it. Unreal. Words really cannot describe. If you have not experienced, you must and should. Once and only once is needed.

This concludes the extended road trips portion of the blog. Now onto Rest (or the lack thereof).

I am not speaking of physical rest, but spiritual rest. I know it is cliche, but in all the busyness of the season, it really has been hard to be anchored in the love of Christ, the real purpose of all the hub-bub. We are so thankful to be staying home this Christmas just as a family so we can rest physically and spiritually. We really long for the boys to brought to the deeper joy of Christmas, and we want to be living models of those who exude that kind of joy and hope and purpose. Taking the model of a Russian poet who wrote a poem every Christmas on the nativity, I tried to think of what that first night might have felt like through Mary’s eyes (me and every other singer, songwriter, and writer). The produce is not all that great, but it did provide a sweet chance to stop and see the birth of Christ through fresh eyes. I pray that it would do the same for others!

A Restless Mother

As I look out upon the desert, upon hills of endless sand,I cannot help but wonder at the entrance you’ve planned.

I wish Elizabeth were closer, she’d remind me what is right, But faith is hard to muster here in this cold cave tonight.

The angel brought news of his conception by your power, but I forgot to ask him what to do in the baby’s first hour.

I am so weak and young and tired, but love him I do. God, all I lack as a mother must be made up by You.

This tiny hand that holds so tightly to my shaking finger one day will guide your people, here my thoughts linger.

The voice that commanded creation limited to an infant’s cry, and I’m the one to comfort him, my Creator? How can I?

Not hours old, yet He innately knows his momma will provide. Teach me to be your child, keeping close by Your side.

As I, his mother, wrestle and worry, He sits gently at my breast; already I can learn from Him; teach me His peace and rest.

Joseph keeps reminding me of your provision at every turn,but still my faith, it waivers; to be trusting let me learn.

I’m holding Him, yet surely You must see I am still a child. Shouldn’t the one to raise Him be more mature, more mild?

Oh, Father, I wish my heart did not doubt Your perfect will, yet you hear my questionings and you receive me still.

But now is not a time to think. Joe’s right, we all need sleep. You are God, and so I trust both baby and parents you’ll keep.

My questions about this child greatly outnumber all this sand, but who am I to question You, the Ruler of this sweeping land?

The writer opens up with a command to keep striving, to be diligent so that we will enter into the coming rest of God eternally. But then in v 12-13 he goes on to tell us how we go about doing that. All that came to my mind while reading these verses I have read like a billion times was, the Holy Spirit is like a skilled surgeon with the scalpel of the Holy Spirit. I think the writer is saying that we are diligent, alert, careful to enter into His rest by constantly laying ourselves out, wide open, under the care of the Holy Spirit. It all sounds so medical… He will pierce us, probe us, divide what is right from what is wrong, what is health from what is death, do biopsies on our motivations and thoughts, etc… We will basically be laid open and bare before God, completely seen and naked (v 13). Sounds pretty harsh and hard; we will see our weaknesses, our sins, all the places where our motives and thoughts are crooked and impure (v14)… OUCH. But then the writer  who seems to know how uncomfortable and shameful and embarrassing that exposure process/ surgery of the Word will be, spends the next verses (v 15 and 16) comforting us, encouraging us to find hope, strength, confidence, health in the Great High Priest who stands in our stead as our substitute and now our faithful prayer warrior!

All this reminded me of one of my favorite parts of  T.S. Eliot poem called Four Quartets.

The wounded surgeon plies the steel / that questions the distempered part / Beneath the bleeding hands we feel / the sharp compassion of the healer’s art / resolving the enigma of the fever chart.

All this leaves me so thankful for the wounded surgeon, searching our souls for death and doing everything needed to bring life and health to our dying hearts! Guess I should go lay myself open before the Word now; results pending (but I definitely will not be sharing them here!)

As funny as it is, they really do love these silly, slimy creatures; they are like prizes to them. In fact, we spend considerable time and energy to find the worms, digging, searching, sweating oftentimes. I say all of this because as I was finishing up my study of Exodus, I came across this quote from A.W. Pink that hit me in a very real way in light of the current earthworm obsession in our home. Pink writes, “A truly marvelous concept is that, one which our poor minds are quite incapable of rising- that the great and self-sufficient God should deem himself enriched by the worms of the earth whom He hath saved by His grace. This inheritance, like all others, has come in through death, the death of God’s own son.”

As silly as it sounds, I keep looking at the boys delight and giddy grins at having “Mo Wooms” and finding myself blown away that the God of the Universe reacts in a similar way upon finding us and grabbing us, taking us with Him wherever He is going. Now obviously the analogy breaks down in that God is not pulling us into little pieces to make “even mo wooms” or torturing us with His love. But still it was enough to bring the gospel into a new light for me.

Team Earthworm

Eli at the Airport

Eli and His Woooms

Eli and I had a little mother/son adventure this weekend, while G and Ty stayed home to have their first annual “Man Weekend.” Crazy E and I headed down to Orlando for my Grandpa Jack’s 80th birthday weekend, leaving the other men to rule the roost. Eli did incredible on the plane on the flight there; he loved every second of it. When we were waiting on someone to pick us up, he sat on a bench with his little “luggage” (aka his tin lunch box full of trains and markers), and looked so grown up. He really thought he was a big deal… so hysterical. We had a typical extended family weekend, full of swimming, eating, catching up, etc.. I was reminded how hard it is for a true introvert to survive in our extended family, but was also thankful for the Lord’s sustaining grace and for the opportunity to catch up with family I haven’t seen in years. In fact, my own aunt from NJ introduced herself to me… hysterical.

Eli was the only baby there, but he quickly found three fast friends in some yard art of my Grandpa and Grandmother. He fell in love with these plastic dragonfly and butterfly things that you stick in planters. They lit up and changed colors, and Eli called them “his woooms” all weekend. He carried all three around with him for three days straight. Never seen my boy so smitten. Hysterical. Who knew yard art could make a crazy boy so awed and quiet? So if you see yard art in our grass, please don’t judge. Just know that my son has a kindred spirit and deep love for those dragonflies.

I would be remiss if I did not tell you that we had an awesome flight home. Awesome. Woke up way too early (after not sleeping because I was sharing the bed with wiggly worm Eli who kept poking my eye lids and saying, “Momma, Mommy, mom. Momma, mommy, mom” in his most persistent whiny voice trying to wake me up. Headed to airport, all is well. As soon as we sit on the plane, happy Eli turns into inconsolable boy. Think screaming and flailing (he was just so exhausted from being off schedule for 3 days, I would have done the same if it was culturally acceptable!). I held him (think human straight jacket) for 40 minutes until he finally collapsed in my arms, exhausted and feel asleep. I say all that to say, I loved it. It is so weird, but this weekend reminded me how much my soul has grown accustomed to being a stay-at-home-wife and mom. While the plane was hot during the screamfest and only grew hotter as more eyes seemed to pierce through me from all over the plane, I really felt at home with everything. I was shocked as we flew home how much the Lord has caused me to grow to love my role, my portion right now.

I am a go-getter and used to be/ am intense, so the transition to motherhood was a tough one for me. It was hard to be limited to being home most of the time, to slow down my routine to include 30 minutes of getting the boys dressed, cleaning the play room 4 times a day, coloring for an hour. Everywhere else, everyone else’s freedom seemed to be such greener pastures to me. I wrestled (still do some days) to know that this was freedom for me, the Lord’s will and His best. But this trip away showed me how much life I find and receive life within the walls of our house and the limitations of the fence around our yard. I really do love these green pastures. I love our pace, the chair where I sit to spend time with the Lord, just spending Saturdays at home with G, pushing the boys on the swings for what feels like an eternity (sweating profusely after I finally got the chance to shower!).

The Lord has put Psalm 66 on my heart lately. I love that “He keeps/ puts my soul in life.” He holds us where life will be found, even when we don’t think it is the most life-giving, the most freedom. He knows us so well. He is so committed to us! I love it! I am so thankful that He is, has been, and will continue to keep my soul in life, making me to lie down in the greenest pastures for my soul (no matter what it may seem or feel like!).