Lessons From Russia Ball

There’s a game I played often as a child called Russia Ball. You could play by yourself or with friends. The basic game followed a set of 10 tasks, such as throwing up the ball and clapping three times before catching it, that the player completed in order. You added an extra bounce with each of the tasks to make it harder.

For Russia Ball, adding bounces of the ball to the various tasks often resulted in wild misses and gales of laughter. In our own lives, we sometimes add too much and the resulting mess is nothing at which to laugh.

At the end of the day, I often wonder how so many things conspired to go wrong or at least not the way I had planned. Most times, I can trace it back to my making things unnecessarily complicated. Kind of like adding to many bounces to the Russia Ball game when you should just stick to the basics.

Monday was a prime example of that. I had my lengthy to-do list for the day and knew what I thought I needed to accomplish. Then one of my daughters needed to go to the doctor, and we all know what a big chunk of the day that will take. In my case, it took two hours plus: travel to and from doctor’s office, wait time at doctor’s office, office visit with doctor, wait for prescription from doctor, delivery of child to school and chat with school nurse about medication, and stop by pharmacy to pick up prescription. Oh, and did I mention I’d have to go back to the pharmacy tomorrow because the cream was not in stock? Add to that Monday’s early dismissal from school, plus piano lessons afterschool, and my available time for “my” tasks just shrunk in half.

But on Monday, I managed to remember about halfway through the day that this is what God wanted for me this day. These hassles were what I needed today, that I needed more than performing my “Russia Ball” list of things. And Monday turned out to be a better day than it could have been if I had let myself stay in the frustration that had enveloped me early on.

Does it always turn out as well as my Monday ended up? For me, no! I fail more than I succeed in remembering that complications are often my own doing and if I would submit more to God, I would have less of the frustrations and more of the peace.

As I hear my girls laughing and the slap, slap of the ball as they play Russia Ball, I remind myself once again of the joys of less complicated life.

If you want directions for playing Russia Ball, send me an email through my website, www.sarahhamaker.com.

The Gift of Interruption

by Sally Chambers

Jesus often stopped inthe midst of what he was doing when parents interrupted his teaching to tuck their baby into his arms or place their little ones on his lap. He never rebuked a mother or father or refused to bless a child. He never rebuked his disciples, who misunderstood for a moment the importance of that interruption. Those parents wanted their children to experience the blessing, touch, and attention of this great man, whom they believed to be the Messiah, and those children were blessed indeed.

My mother used to tell of a time when her father interrupted her at her desk as she studied late one night.

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and told her "There are sometimes things more important than homework."

And so, she left her studies behind. Her daddy led her outside, and together they entered the dark night, walking into the midst of wonder. Hand-in-hand, the two of them stood and watched the beauty of the shimmering lights in the northern sky.

That's the way my mother told the story of when she was a little girl--of living on Cape Cod--of how her father interrupted her homework one evening, to show her something she must see.

Was that the reason that when I was as deep into dreams as a six-year-old could be, my daddy woke me? "Wake up, Sally, there's something I want you to see."

His soft, whispered words pushed sleep away. And in the dim light, he smiled at me, wrapped my blanket around me, scooped me up into his arms, and carried me out into the night. My daddy interrupted my sleep because he wanted me to see something special--to experience something more important than sleep.

Outside, beneath the cool desert skies of Washington State, he held me and pointed to the lights of the north. Filled with awe, I watched the gracefully undulating, color-filled, shimmering phenomenon that my father explained was the aurora borealis. Even the name was magical to me. I've never forgotten the wonder I felt that night.

Children have a depthless capacity for wonder. Filling that capacity is both a joy and a great responsibility for those who care for them. Interrupting sleep or homework, play or a chore to behold one of God's works is a beautiful and unforgettable gift for any child.

Since that long-ago time, just as I showed them to her, my daughter has seen and pointed out wonders to her own children.

Now, it's my granddaughter's turn to show her daughter those wonders. And so, the gift of teaching a capacity for the wonder of God's creation passes down the steps of time. And yet another generation learns the value of interruptions.

Wha wonders have you shown your little ones? Was it the birth of a new foal? A meteor shower? An eclipse of the moon?

We serve an awesome God!

My daughter, Deborah Sandidge, took the last two photographs in this post. Enjoy more of Deb's work at her website http://www.deborahsandidge.com/-/deborahsandidge/

Encouragement for Mothers and Daughters

by Naomi Rawlings

I wrote this piece a few months ago. It's based on a true story. Yes, it's a little longer than my usual post length, but I trust you enjoy it.

Hidden Treasures

Being grownup isn’t always fun. My nine-year-old brain came to that realization on a crisp spring morning as I shrank deeper into my coat and hunched my back against the wind.

Before today, I had never been allowed on one of Grandma and Mom’s walks.

“It’s too far.”

“You’re not old enough.”

“You’ll be bored.”

The refusals varied little. I had begged to come today, certain some secret of womanhood would be revealed on the walks Mom took with Grandma whenever we came to visit.

After two minutes, I understood what the walks were about. Gossip.

Grandma’s voice prattled endlessly. “Now this man here goes to Florida every winter, and the man in the house up ahead lost his wife last summer. She’d had cancer and—”

“Can we turn around?” I shivered, gooseflesh creeping over my arms.

“I walk down to the road and back every day.” Grandma didn’t glance at me, just pumped her arms harder and launched into the life story of the widow who lived in the little white cottage to our left.

I stared down the long, straight road, barely able to discern where a second road teed into it. “That’s too far!”

My mom sent me a look, the kind of mother-daughter look that expresses a conversation in a fraction of a second. This one said, Naomi, I warned you it would be a long walk. We don’t see Grandma and Grandpa that often. Enjoy this time, and don’t be disrespectful.

I turned my head so Mom wouldn’t see me roll my eyes. “Can we at least slow down? My legs hurt.”

“Got to keep moving. Good exercise.”

I glared at Grandma. Why had I wanted to even come on this endless walk? So what if my younger brother and sister were still too little to join us? So what if this was the first time I’d seen Grandma since Christmas? Better to be fishing with Grandpa.

I stared at the ground, watching my scuffed tennis shoes stumble over dirt on the shoulder of the chipped road. A reddish rock caught my attention. I kicked it, stopped, then stooped to pick it up.

“Naomi, quit dawdling!”

Rock in hand, I raced ahead to Mom. “I got a rock, see.” I held it out for inspection then stuffed it in my pocket.

“Now these people here raise puppies.” Grandma gestured toward a yard with a little fenced square containing two doghouses. But no pups greeted us as we passed.

My gaze drifted back to the ground. Something shiny glinted despite the overcast sky. I crouched beside it and dug in the dirt where it was wedged.

“Naomi! Don’t make me call you again!”

“Mom, wait. I found something.” I freed a gold band from the earth and stared for a moment, mesmerized by the sparkling stone in its center. “It’s a ring! I found a diamond ring!”

I raced to Mom, who had by some miracle convinced Grandma to stop walking.

“I’m sure it’s not real, honey,” she said as I dropped the treasure into her palm.

“It is, Mom. I know it is.” My legs suddenly reenergized, I started jumping.

Mom sent me a sympathetic smile that faded as she studied the ring.

“Well,” Grandma elbowed me aside and peered over Mom’s shoulder. “It’s fake, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s authentic.” Mom’s eyes moved from the ring to me and back.

I grinned. “Put it on. You can have it.”

Mom slipped it into her pocket instead.

My treasure was real. The police verified the value of the ring then held it at the stationhouse for ninety days. When no one came to claim it, they returned it to my mom. She wore it on her left hand, a replacement for the engagement ring she’d lost giving me a bath when I was a baby. As eldest daughter, I now had part in the special symbol of my parents’ love the ring represented.

The ring stayed on my mom’s finger as I grew older, a silent witness to my high school plays, graduation, college years, and wedding. An ever-present reminder of the walk I’d been too bored to appreciate.

One summer day, I trailed Mom into the assisted living facility where Grandma had moved. Of the three of us, I now lived far away, nearly six hundred miles.

“Coming will mean a lot to her.” Mom led the way to her room.

Grandma opened the door before we knocked. We laughed and hugged, smiles splitting my soft face and Grandma’s parchment-like skin.

“Let’s walk outside.” Grandma coughed, a subtle reminder of her emphysema. “You get old sitting around a place like this.”

Her back hunched forward with age this time, rather than mine hunching with cold. She limped slightly and tugged the neckline of her shirt even though it wasn’t hot. “My neighbor next door’s moving into a nursing home next week.”

Grandma looked at me and waited. Was I supposed to say something? Respond to her gossip in one way or another?

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mom answered. I mouthed Mom a “thanks.” “What about your neighbor on the other side, Florence?”

“Florence. Well, her son . . .”

I let Grandma’s words flow over me, the idle chatter bringing back memories of that long ago day, and I noticed how Grandma now struggled to walk a fraction of the distance she had once trekked daily.

We passed an elderly lady sitting in her wheelchair. “Her grandson’s a musician. Lives all the way in New York City.” Grandma took my hand and held it. “Doesn’t come to visit, though.”

Wanting to share the moment with Mom as well, I glanced her way. Her ring, a treasure cherished for two decades, caught my eye as it glinted in the evening sun. I slipped my hand into my mom’s and felt the worn band press against my skin.

Three mothers, three daughters, hand in hand. A different kind of treasure. One I hadn’t understood on our first walk but understood too well this time.

The value of the moment wasn’t in the gossip, the pace of the walk, the location, the weather, or even the ring. The value was in all of them. In the time spent with my mother and her mother.

The treasure was the memories.

----

A summa cum laude graduate with an English Education degree, Naomi Rawlings has been writing inspirational romance for over two years. Her latest completed manuscript, Her Journey’s End, recently finaled in the 2011 Genesis Contest. Naomi lives in Michigan’s rugged Upper Peninsula with her two young boys and her wonderful husband, who pastors a small church.

When Even Spilled Milk is a Gift

There’s a white puddle under my preschooler’s chair, and I’m ready to cry over it.

photo credit: Sylvia Zhang

It’s just one of those days, you know?

Where each roll of dice puts me two steps back on the board game life.

photo credit: D. Shepard

Lunch is finished, but the remnants are scattered on countertop. Laundry’s clean, but piling high {i can't catch up}. Baby’s fed, but he’s fussy and beyond consolation {he’s fighting his nap}. Sure, my shirt’s spit-up free, but now there’s milk pooling on my freshly mopped floor.

Why can’t he keep the house clean for five minutes? {is that asking too much?}

Thoughts & complaints swarm through my mind like flies.

Why can’t I put on lipstick and fancy shoes for a regular 9-5? I’ll take my hubby’s job and he can stay home.

I groan and sigh and mop and lecture.

“Be careful.” My tone is less than pleasant. {to put it nicely}

I swipe the floor to clean the mess and when I stand up, my son searches my face.

“Mommy happy?” He squints his chocolate browns. His words stop me in my track.

Am I happy? His words prick my conscience. Could I be any happier?

How blessed I am to work from home when many women are not able. How blessed I am to serve these souls God’s entrusted to me. To watch them discover the world and know I’m not missing out. How blessed I am to swipe their messes with my own hands.

Yes, even his messes are a gift! My house nests little hands and feet, and I am called Mama.

Though daily circumstances may leave me feeling unhappy, I must choose to see the blessing. I must choose joy—it’s contagious.

I look into my son’s eyes and make a choice. “Yes lovey. Mommy’s so happy.” I plant a kiss on his forehead and he giggles.

“Mommy happy!” He tilts his head back.

Together we laugh at the gift of spilled milk.

Joy N. Malik is a full-time Mama of two boys. She moonlights as a fiction and freelance writer, crafting articles and stories toward justice and change. She enjoys writing about simple living, raising bicultural kids, and faith in the common. Though she’s an aspiring author, she’ll never quit her day job.

Cultivating Encouragement

By Doula Brandi

Spring is here and it’s time to think about tilling, planting and keeping a garden. Cultivating a garden is no small task. The rewards in summer & fall more than outweigh the work involved. The same can be said about our personal lives, planting and keeping the right attitude makes all the difference in our families.

Encouragement is one area that I need to sow more seeds! I remember hearing my Grandmother’s admonishment that I would “reap what I sowed”. We’ve all heard or read it hundreds of times through our lives usually in a negative connotation. But the idea applies positively as well or even more so! The principle still remains, as rock solid as the law of gravity. Sowing seeds of encouragement is a wonderful way of reaping a bountiful crop when times get tough for you.

To get started we must prepare our spiritual ‘garden’ by preparing the soil and planting those seeds. We have to have a good foundation of what encouragement is in order to develop those qualities. Merriam-Webster defines “encourage” as to inspire with courage, spirit, or hope. In the case of a follower of the Messiah, that means reading His words and using the principles found within the Bible as our foundation, or fertilizer you could say. I like to print our encouraging Scriptures or ideas on paper and post them around the house. These are tangible reminders to me and the children about treating each others in an uplifting and encouraging manner.

Simple ways to sow seed are to share encouraging words with others. I have a friend who likes to send me messages wishing me a great day or sharing how she admires something that I have done. This is so uplifting to me! Her words have made the difference to me on more than one occasion! The best soil to sow into would be that of our children. Children are like a freshly plowed virgin field, fertile, without being packed down by the world. Sharing encouraging words, Scripture, and acts of love go a long way in sowing a lifelong crop in our little ones.

The best way to be encouraged yourself is to help encourage another. Another old adage “give and you shall receive” applies here! Listening with a compassionate ear, offering an understanding hug, without trying to “fix” the person can all fit under the umbrella of encouragement. It’s called giving hope. We all go through dark times and having the right sort of uplifting friends and family members can make all the difference in the world in the duration and outcome of those dark times. Work at home moms are no exception. Sometimes we may be in the position to need more encouragement if we are not interacting with others on a daily basis.

Everyone needs encouragement; your friend who seems to always have it together, a family member who lost a job, and the check-out person at the local store. That’s one of the best things about encouragement; you can give it away, even to total strangers!

Be encouraged; sow some seeds into the lives of those you meet today.
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We aren't Spartans for a Good Reason

by Melissa Jagears

Ok, so I'm probably the only person given the topic of Encouragement and thinks: "Plato's Republic's history on the Spartan culture could work."

If anyone out there reading this thinks, "Oh, I can totally see that." Then I want to meet you, my long lost twin. Anyway....

I was fascinated when reading Republic last year with the forms of government covered, but especially the Spartans. They were an oligarchy (a rule by the few) but an interesting one. Most oligarchic cultures that I know of chose the elite by race or descent. But the Spartans attempted to see from infancy who would be the strongest. To see each human by their inner worth. (And if they were judged unworthy they were killed, so eugenics basically.)

But even more fascinating was the children were taken away from their parents to be molded by the citizens who were deemed best for educating different types of children. The government officials tried to use everyone's natural skills to the state's advantage, and that included whoever had the best parenting skills would be chosen to parent other people's children.

So, here's the encouraging part: No one has every tried to set up this system again in the long ages that have passed since Sparta was destroyed.* Besides this one hiccup in history, I think mankind has realized that there is nothing better than parents (be it single, adopted, biological, etc.) for raising a child.

So if you've sacrificed to stay home with your children, don't let anything make you feel poorly for that decision. Deep down, in all of our hearts, we know that no one can raise children better than a parent who loves them. And if you are sacrificing something to give your children more of your time, attention, and direction, than you are the best person in the whole world to raise them because you love them most.

1 John 3:16- This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.

The person who sacrifices the most for another loves them the most. Besides Christ dieing for my children to offer them eternal life--the ultimate Love--I am the one who is willing to sacrifice the most for them; therefore, I am the one that loves them most. Other relatives, day care workers, teachers, babysitters, maybe even some government workers may love my child, but they will never love them like me.

So if you are struggling against familial or societal pressure to get "a real job" or whatever it is, go with your parental instincts. You know what is best for your child, and if that means you plan to give up financial comforts, social status, etc. to give them more of you, then I want to encourage you by saying:

"You're right. Persevere. We aren't Spartans for a good reason."

*I do not claim to be an exhaustive historian, if a culture later in history tried to set up a Spartan-like oligarchy, I'm ignorant of it.

A Sleep Solution

by Sally Chambers

Glimpses and Guidance from the Garrett

Have you just been reminded by that women's magazine on the table that says you need to get your "beauty sleep?" and you know there's no way that's happening? Are you exhausted from conquering cobwebs, creating casseroles, chasing children, and the million other things you have to do every day?

I remember the times when I was exactly that, exhausted and complaining to my mother that 24/7 just wasn't enough. Wise woman that she was, she handed down some sage advice.

"Take naps when your children do."

No, I'm not encouraging you to sleep less, but I am discouraging you from worrying about when you sleep.

It's said that Ben Franklin only slept two to five hours a night, but he caught up on his lost sleep with cat-naps during the day.

Call it a power nap, siesta, or a kid-nap, it adds up to a smoother day. When I followed my mom's suggestion, I had much more energy, my "off-with-their-heads" mood vanished, and even though there was still dust in the corners, I don't think a soul noticed but me.

When you lie down, you will not be afraid; yes you will lie down and your sleep will be sweet. Proverbs 3:24 NKJV

The Act of Encouraging

by Desirea Packard

Encourage the exhausted, and strengthen the feeble.

—Isaiah 35:3

Encouragement is often a hard thing for some. Here are a few things that I do sometimes that are fast and easy and simple when you need to send encouragements.

Once a week send a letter, an email or even a text letting the person know how much they mean to you. Whether it be a spouse, or a best friend a sibling or even a parent. I often send little texts to my husband to let him know how much I appreciate his hard work and that he provides for us daily so that I can stay home and do what I love to do, which is be a mom. Now I am not saying that I don’t contribute, because I do. But he does work hard long hours away from his family every day. I appreciate that. There are some spouses that are away for weeks at a time. My husband often tells me he appreciates these texts especially when he has had a rough day. It’s encouraging. I try and never miss a chance to let someone I know how much I appreciate them. Plus, it’s also a pay it forward kind of thing. Because of this, I have seen him do the same for me or to other people he cares about.

Anticipate someone’s need. I have always believed if you ask someone how you can help, it doesn’t usually mean you really want to help you are just being polite. (I realize this isn’t always the case.) For example, this past week I was sitting in the ER after I had been up all night with a crying sick baby. When I realized he wasn’t getting better, we went to the hospital. I texted my best friend and told her I am heading there, for no reason other than she’s my best friend. Half way through the visit a nurse comes into the room with two hot cups of good coffee (not hospital coffee.) She said these were delivered for you. I knew immediately who the culprit was, and I appreciated it. This was exactly what I needed after being up all night. She knew that I probably didn’t have coffee made at home and I needed a coffee fix. This is what I mean when you try to anticipate someone’s needs. This was exactly what I needed and I was very thankful for the encouragement.

There are also the obvious forms of encouragement that can be done. Sending a card, or flowers, etc. There is nothing wrong with these traditional ways and I still use them from time to time depending on the person and the reason. Sometimes when I can’t think of something to say or do, going this route is the best option because cards have a good way of saying exactly what I want to say when I don’t know how to word it. These are a great idea.

Friends are a great source to tell you what you want to hear or need to hear rather you want to hear it or not. When I am having a bad day being a mom, stepmom, or a wife, etc. My friends are the ones I usually turn to. They usually know exactly what I need.

Pray- This may not be for everyone, but God is the giver of all things so if you are finding you need encouragement, or are struggling with something or just need a boost in your step to help you make it through wherever you’re going, pray. It’s as simple as that. I pray without ceasing. I pray for my spouse, my children, my friends, my finances. (Everything.) I am asking God to send them what they need when I don’t know what they need and I can’t help.

This is just a few things that I do or have done to help those that need encouragement when it comes to great things and the not so great things. I hope that this helps.