Potential energy

September 26, 2013 — Leave a comment

This week has been an adventure. Paul has been out of town and so in an effort to not go completely crazy, we have been trying new places for school. Tuesday, we set up shop at Starbucks again. It worked, but not as well as the first time we were there. The handle on the back of the car lost its spring as I was loading it up with all our binders and supplies. So I was unable to open the rear door and unable to toss in the stroller, so Judah didn’t have a comfortable seat at Starbucks. And therefore, our time was cut short in an effort to keep him happy.

Yesterday, we went to my Mom and Dad’s house. It was great. This new environment was the perfect setting to motivate and be productive. Although, I wonder if the quality of the girls’ work suffered in an effort to hurry up and be free to play. However, the kids got to have some good Grammy and Grandpa time. Spending more time with family is a goal of our family rehab and it was wonderful to see it actually happen. Gideon had a chance to just play while the girls worked. Fresh toys and fresh faces can work miracles. Grandpa, a retired physics professor, even taught science in the afternoon. Thanks, Grandpa!

Today we have ventured out to The Jumpy Place. For any parent of a young child, you have to check out The Jumpy Place. (This is not a paid advertisement–it’s a public service announcement.) Free-wifi, a room full of jumpy houses, free coffee, a huge carpeted surface for a baby to roll around on, and a new and exciting excer-saucer–you couldn’t ask for much more than that. There is enough here to keep a whole den of raccoons busy! When you bring your own snacks and/or lunch, you’re set! And today, there is hardly anybody here. The girls zoomed through their first 4 folders, just to get to recess time. Again, quality of their work may have suffered in the pursuit of freedom to go jump.

I tried to keep some of the work exciting by creating some worksheets for the girls that could only be completed here. They each had a “follow the directions” sheet in one of their folders. The directions included simple things, like write your name on the top of the page, as well as some review from the week, like math word problems, and language arts questions. I included some funny things too, like: climb to the top of the slide and shout, “I have the greatest Mom in the world!”

One of the review questions referred back to our science class yesterday with Grandpa. We learned about “work” and that it is defined as something with weight or mass, moving in a direction. We also talked about different forms of energy that “work” for us. Grandpa did lots of cool scientific demonstrations involving many different kinds of energy. We discussed the difference between stored, or potential energy, and kinetic energy–all very fascinating stuff. On the review paper today, they had to remember at least three different kinds of energy.

As I sit here at the Jumpy Place, I can observe all kinds of energy. From Judah, kicking his legs to rotate from toy to toy in the excer-saucer to the constantly blowing fans filling the 7 huge jumpy houses in this warehouse, energy is being exerted everywhere. Electric energy is pumping in this place to keep the moon-walks filled, the lights glowing, and (would you believe it) the message chairs for the parents undulating. (This place is a stay-at-home-mom’s paradise!) To consider the striving to live in a “green”, environmentally friendly, and renewable resource responsible environment while sitting here listening to all that energy being zapped up is kind of funny. The constant hum of the fans is hypnotizing and relaxing, which makes me think about my own energy levels slowly depleting as I type. I wish I would have had a healthier breakfast so I could pump as much energy through my tired brain and body as this place pumps into it’s oversized balloon pirate ship. It seems as though I don’t have much potential energy…or kinetic for that matter. However, there is a stored energy inside of me–apart from the sugar from this morning’s syrupy french toast burning away.

The apostle Paul asks the Corinthians, “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?” Think for a moment about what that means. God’s Spirit dwells in you…in me. I don’t feel very energetic right now as these fans lull me to sleep. But that’s a lot of potential power stored up in my body. God’s Spirit. Think of all that His Spirit has done. His Spirit was present when He spoke the earth into motion…when he put it to “work.” That’s a heavy thing–the world–to move in a direction. He set the Earth spinning…and it’s still spinning. He expanded the sky from the sea…and the universe is still expanding. That’s quite some powerful energy.

His Spirit is still at “work”. He (the Spirit) is working on my weighty heart. He has been moving through mass for all of history. He is moving, breathing, stirring, sometimes even spinning. He is doing something. He is working. Romans 8:2 says, “For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death.” Those are action words–“set you free”. And to think what that verse means. All the guilt and all the shame that accompanies the law of sin and death is set free. Brokenness and regret are the kinds of things that can trap a heart and chain it to the floor. Those are the kinds of things that can swallow up joy and livelihood into a bottomless pit of despair. There are people who live their whole existence on this ever-spinning planet stuck in one place because of sin, guilt, and shame.

But, there is a Spirit that releases us from that condemnation through Jesus’ sacrificial death and resurrection. And He lives in us. That is a potential that most Christians have, that they don’t even realize. In our society we are constantly trying to uncover our own potential in life. We take personality tests, we climb the ladder of success, we deprive ourselves of chocolate cake and work out, all to reach our “potential.” We can strive really hard to get to a “freedom” that doesn’t compare to the freedom Jesus offers. Much like the girls, we settle for mediocre quality work in the pursuit of a rubberized jumpy house paradise. The satisfaction we gain in reaching our own potential, neglecting the potential energy of the Holy Spirit inside of us, is a lack-luster prize. Nothing compares to the freedom produced when that stored energy of the Spirit inside us releases us from the bondages of sin. That freedom breaks the chains that disable even the most talented being. Romans 8:6 says, “For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.”

We are also used to having to pay a hefty price to have “work” done. Whether it’s tree-trimming, car repair, or dental work, it comes with a price. We don’t know how to receive good quality work for free. It just can’t be so. If something comes free, it’s either shoddy, cheap, or comes with fine print–not the love and freedom of Jesus, nor the gift of His Holy Spirit. He has given them to us for free. There is nothing for us to pay. And this high quality and quantity of spiritual freedom is not shoddy, cheap, or has hidden fine print. This gift can have such workmanship and yet be so “inexpensive” to us because it’s high value was paid for by Jesus, in the one-time, all-inclusive payment of his life on the cross. 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 says this about the gift of the Holy Spirit within us and the price that was paid by Jesus, “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.”

The potential energy that lies within us is not our potential to do amazing things. Our potential lies in the fact that the powerful force of the Holy Spirit lives in us and is at “work” within us. Our potential comes not from trying hard or doing better. It isn’t found when we get the right academic degree or the highest paying job for our personal skill set. Our potential, our purpose, is to glorify God with our entirety. When we walk as people freed from the imprisonment of sin and shame, we glorify God and his purpose, his power, his potential. When we are focused on the Spirit within us, we turn from the fleshy selfishness that keeps us looking inward at our own potential good or value. We are then freed to see the potential of Christ’s saving love and mercy in the lives of others. We see with eyes of the Spirit how God, himself, died for those around us who are stuck with the world revolving around them. We become workers ourselves, with the energy and force of the Holy Spirit transferred from our hearts to our bodies, electrifyingly running through our veins and out our fingertips as we lovingly serve. The stored energy in our souls becomes acting, working, and kinetic. Because this same power source that keeps spinning the earth into motion, is the source of our joy and livelihood, we never fade or run out, or meet our potential. The possibilities are endless, the weight of what can be moved unstoppable. No more settling for air-filled jumpy place dreams that will inevitably deflate and ware holes. The quality of the “work” in us can be amazing when it’s done in the Spirit and in the Lord’s timing. We have no need to rush through anything for the freedom to jump–a freedom that just doesn’t compare to what potential there is in us with the Holy Spirit. We can have unlimited supply of high quality, high quantity, completely free, and completely satisfying potential energy of the Spirit…and it’s environmentally friendly. 🙂

PG-13 contractions

September 23, 2013 — Leave a comment

After our extended weekend of rest, it was back to work today. We were studying contractions and one of our activities was Contraction Soup. Written inside each cup of soup were words commonly used in contractions. The task was to make as many combinations as possible into contractions.

I was sitting by Helen, who was doing a fantastic job pairing words. The tricky part of the activity was that the words could be used more than once, and they were not in any order. For example, ‘he’ and ‘does’ were in the bowl, but are never put together to make a contraction. But, you would use ‘he’ and ‘does’ together in a sentence. She was verbally testing out every possible combination, “there plus it equals there…it…there’t…nope.” Then she stumbled upon a doozie: “She plus it…sheeee…it!” She didn’t even realize what she had said or that it’s even a word to be concerned about. She moved right along to “she plus will equals….she’ll!” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the unintended PG-13 rating of our language arts lesson.

Our memory verse this week is 1 Peter 5:7: “Cast your burdens unto Jesus, for he cares for you.” We discussed that a burden could be anything that weighs you down. One translation says “anxieties” instead of burdens. It could be worries about math or the future. It could be sad feelings or anger towards someone. Pretty much any “shee…it” that takes our focus away from God and His glory and His power to do mighty things. Much like Judah’s diaper gets weighed down when he unloads his ‘PG-13 contraction’, we too can be carrying around heavy burdens that need to be discarded. It seems a little irreverent to think about casting excrement onto Jesus. But, He does ask us to give Him all our dirt, all our sin, all our filth. He desires to change us–to make us clean.

For the past six or seven days, my back has really been hurting. I think it’s a combination of heavy-duty floor mopping, carrying a baby on my hip, and slouching at my desk as I write. When I pop a couple of ibuprofen and keep moving on through the day, I can get distracted from the discomfort and continue with the same tasks that are causing the pain. I return to holding Judah on my hip while vacuuming and slumping over the computer. However, when I skip the meds and stand still, I find myself fully engaged in the tightness of the muscles surrounding my spine. Only then does it become unbearable. It’s at these moments of weakness that I have two options in front of me. Mask the pain again and keep plugging through, turning back to hurtful habits and destructive behavior, or make an appointment to get things straightened out.

The same happens with sin or anxieties, or any kind of burden. I am noticing that when I am anxious about something and am not fully engaging in it, my temper is short and my patience runs thin. I have two choices. I can either mask the underlying anxiety and let frustration and exasperation prevail, or I can engage my own heart and ask some questions. If I fully engage in the worry and place it at the feet of Jesus, my general disposition changes.

How do I engage with my heavy load of “PG-13 contractions”? First I have to acknowledge that there is something weighing me down-that indeed I am worried about something. Or that indeed, I did hurt that person’s feelings. Or that indeed, I did do that wrong thing. Then I have to examine what that worry or sin says about how I am viewing the character of God. If I have worried about something, am I viewing God as all-knowing, all-powerful, or all-trustworthy? If I hurt someone’s feelings, and am not taking responsibility for it, what does that say about God? Does that kind of living reveal his love for all mankind? If I have done something that goes against God’s will for me, and I am carrying it around like a dirty diaper in my back pocket, what does that say about who God is? What does clinging to my excremental sin say about his unconditional love, his vast forgiveness, and his storehouses full of grace? When I engage with my burdens, and examine what my worry or shame or resistance is saying about who God is, only then can I start to cast those burdens onto Jesus.

When I think about what kinds of things I lug around, whether worries or sins, I usually don’t think of them as foul-smelling dung. But, maybe if I did, I would appreciate the fact that Jesus willingly asks me to hand them over to Him. When I don’t fully engage in what burdens I am carrying around, then I usually don’t realize that I have a need to get rid of them. For my worry, in particular, I can pull events or situations from my own contraction soup and try to make things connect when they just aren’t supposed to. As Christians, we often try to predict what God is doing and how He is moving by drawing conclusions based on sermons we hear, not-so-coincidental events, and Holy Spirit promptings. I’m not saying God doesn’t work in these ways, I firmly believe He does. But too often, I find myself trying to connect events not because I am earnestly seeking out God’s will, but rather my own will. In order to have “confirmation” about what I want, I join together a whole slew of things that just simply aren’t meant to go together. When this happens I end up with a lot ‘she-it’s to deal with because again, I’ve placed my trust in my plan and not in the Father’s. Thankfully, I can cast all those things back into the melting pot of grace and wait for Him to reveal His plan and provision.

When looking at our memory verse this morning, we also defined casting. Casting is not merely handing something over. It’s not giving something to someone only to draw your hand quickly back in hesitance. It is a throw! When we think of fishing, we don’t just underhand a hook into the water. We gear up for it, turning slightly to the side, drawing the arm back and heaving the pole over our heads, releasing the line and the worm far into the distance. It takes trust to cast our burdens like that. And, trust means recalibrating our view of God.

So if I indeed made a mistake, caused my neighbor hurt or harm, or worried about provision for tomorrow, then I should take time to reset my view of God. Indeed, His grace is enough. His love is deep enough. His faithfulness and provision are wide enough. When I adjust how I am viewing my Father, then my burdens are amazingly taken away. I’ve cast them onto Him, trusting this adjusted view of Him now based on the truth, not my fear. My burdens are lifted because now I am trusting a God who can and should be trusted. I’ve got no reason to carry around all that she-it.

Poetry Night

September 23, 2013 — Leave a comment

Thursday night we completed our poetry unit with “A Night of Poetry”. We invited a few family and friends over for coffee and snacks. The girls were so excited to share the poems they composed over the past two weeks as well as some of their favorites from books.

We decorated the house with candles in an attempt to set the mood. We moved our chalkboard outside in front of the door with a message to welcome our guests. We had both visual poems (acrostics, concrete, and book spine poems) and verbal poems (limericks, adjective poems, alliterations, and personification poems).

Here is a sampling of what was shared:

The Shower by Helen Goeke

I have a shower,

It has eight eyes.

Oh, me. Oh, my,

Look at it cry.

The soap was laughing,

The loofa was scratching,

The bubbles died.

And that’s why he cried.

The girls took a picture of their book spine poetry from weeks ago at the library. The idea is to stack books and use their titles to write a poem. Here’s Ava’s example: (I like them so much, I think we will put them up on the walls somewhere.)

It was fun seeing all our supportive family and friends there to encourage our girls. They enjoyed it quite a bit as well. Gideon even shared some jokes. And Grammy got into it too, writing and sharing her own poem. (Thanks, Grammy!)

Friday during the day, we did absolutely nothing. God rested on the seventh day, I figure we could take a day of rest after our poetry unit!

Cucumber salad and fuzzy math

September 17, 2013 — 2 Comments

I love cucumbers. I like them on sandwiches, salads, dipped in Ranch, dipped in hummus, and made into little relishes. I even like them in my water. Mmmm. I love me some cucumbers! They are so refreshing. It is mind boggling to me to think that only a few years ago, I could not stand the vegetable. Friends would grow cucumbers and cut them into slices, mix with a few ingredients and eat them while I would gag. I thought the only reason God invented such an ugly looking and foul tasting thing would be to make it into a pickle. I’ve had no problem ever with a good pickle. Somewhere along the way, my palette for cucumbers shifted. I don’t understand it, but somehow what used to be repulsive is now always in my refrigerator. The cucumber has become a staple.

I do know that it didn’t happen without lots of trying. As much as I hated cucumbers, I still held on to the hope that I would one day love them as much as all those people who make their beloved home-grown cucumber salad. I would try them, gag, and wait till next summer for another go at it. Eventually, there was a miraculous tasting when that cucumber tastebud flipped a switch and I didn’t immediately turn away. I could finally appreciate the backyard cucumber connoisseur, eventually becoming one myself.

In the same way I had an initial aversion to cucumbers, my girls hate math. If they could get through life without ever having to work another math problem, they would be just fine with that. We have tried math games, math worksheets, math mazes, and math on the computer–math anything and everything, and I am becoming more and more convinced that they just don’t like math. I am certain, that just like I had a magical moment when my tastebuds converted from hating cucumbers to not getting enough of them, they too will have a lightbulb moment when math is not so intimidating. They may never love it, but I am holding on to the hope that they will one day appreciate it. We have been focusing on drilling those basic math facts. 2+2=4, etc. Once they have some ground work that’s easy and effortless to recall, they will be more equipped to deal with larger and more complex problems, and maybe relax a little when it comes to their math folders.

Through this year of Family Rehab, I think God plans on doing quite a bit of work on our family’s palette and drilling some basic facts into our hearts. Our plan is to try new foods and discover a love for math, but with every aching minute spent doing math drills or trying a new recipe, I think God’s plan is to stretch us even further in our trust of Him. Our plan is to invest in each other’s hearts and spend time with our kids, but I think with every minute spent together, God is teaching us even more how to invest in deeper relationship with Him. I am sure there are many lessons to come over the next year–too many for me to know what they are today. The art of the adventure is discovering them along the way and finding that our final destination is a place where we are in a much more trusting relationship with Him.

There are examples in scripture that prove undoubtedly that God loves us, gives us daily what we need, and faithfully pursues us, no matter our performance. Sometimes it seems as though that isn’t that good enough for us. Why is it so hard to rest there–in all His goodness? Why do we see the one-time all-covering salvation Jesus offers, treat it as though it weren’t enough, taint it by assuming that our performance makes a difference, and end up equating His love with blessings, both material and circumstantial? Why do we find it so hard to trust Him and His ways? I fall victim to living by this messed-up math equation all the time: God’s favor=material blessing or things just going my way…or the relative equation: not having my life together=a lack of things going my way. Sometimes it seems to be a mathematical function on which I base my understanding of life much like I do 2+2=4. I rarely consider the backwards-gospel-math-facts underneath the lack-of-trust-frustration that I am living out daily. But unlike 2+2=4, that underlying equation is not good arithmetic. It’s fuzzy math. It is as if I am balancing my check book based on the incorrect belief that 2+2=48,000. The consequences and stress that could ensue from a bad basic math fact like that could be devastating. I need to go back to the elementary equations that are the building blocks to living in a trust-centered relationship with God. I need to compare them and consider that the gospel function I am “functioning” out of no longer resembles the truth as revealed in the Bible.

In fact, that kind of math (God’s love=blessings, as I define them) just can’t be supported with other equations that my convictions based on Jesus teach me. Here’s some math based on what the Bible says about God’s love and how He communicates that love to me:

(1 John 4:16):

God=love

God in me=love in me

God in me + love in me=love perfected

perfect love=no fear( of punishment)

If God=love, then God does not=fear-filled punishment

(Luke 12:15 and 23):

Life does not=an abundance of possessions

Life>food (even cucumbers) and clothing (any material provision, really)

what I treasure=what I worship with my heart

(John 10:10)

Jesus’ coming=abundant life for me

(1 Peter 3:18) and

Christ=righteous

unrighteous=me

Jesus’ death + resurrection = my righteousness

(Romans 5:8)

love=while we still sinners Christ died for us

(2 Timothy 2:13):

me + faithlessness=His remaining faithfulness

Just like drilling some basic 2+2=4 equations into our heads can give us a firm foundation for learning future algebra and higher level math, knowing the simple facts about who God is can ground our often fleeting and untrusting hearts. Living out of the assumption that God’s love and favor of me rests in my performance is counter to the basic math principles of the Gospel. It’s backwards and fuzzy and just plain wrong, like 2+2=48,000. If God is love and he has loved us with a perfect love, that casts out fear, we don’t need to be scared of punishment for our sins. God just doesn’t work that way. Our unrighteousness has been replaced with Christ’s righteousness. God won’t withhold his love or his blessing because we have been unfaithful or faithless, because the truth tells us that He remains faithful. We don’t need to worry about things of this world because life is more than possessions, and because we have died with Christ, He lives in us and He is the treasure of our hearts. We become fully and completely satisfied in Him. Jesus said himself that He came so that I could have life abundantly. I have no reason to doubt that! When we worry about what’s coming and when it will arrive, we miss out on what we already know about Him, what we already have in Him, and what He is currently working together for our good.

“For those who love God all things work together for good”(Romans 8:28). We have to trust that whatever He has planned and whatever the circumstantial evidence seems to be around us, that He has something working for our good. He wants good for us. He wants to bless us. Sometimes, we are just too busy focusing on our material things or our performance, that we miss all that He has and is currently doing. Where our treasure is, there is our heart. When He is enough, our hearts are not worshiping what we want, but rather are worshipping Him. Building our life around this Gospel arithmetic, around these simple truths of who God really is and what He has done for us, redefines who we are and what our expectations are of this life. I no longer have to worry about my lack of perfection and how God views me. I don’t have to use my fingers to perform simple addition and subtraction while seeing what I have and don’t have anymore. I am not balancing a spiritual check book of good deeds where the numbers don’t add up and the account is never balanced. I know, based on drilled math facts that aren’t fuzzy, that He loves me no matter what, and that He has good for me. Laying that mathematical groundwork will prepare me for the larger, more complex problems in life.

Today at snack we were feeding Judah a banana. Ava commented on how he would not even look at the banana or our hands, but just open his mouth while looking across the table at whoever was talking to him. He wasn’t looking to see what the food was or worrying that it wasn’t going to be there, or get there fast enough. He was just trusting. So far, we’ve given him no reason to lack trust in us. So he blindly trusts that what we are giving him is good, and that it will be there when he opens his mouth.

Maybe we need to trust in God’s blessings more like Judah. God has given us no reason to distrust Him. We can open ourselves freely, with vulnerability and complete trust to receive whatever it is that He has for us. We don’t need to already have in mind what that blessing will look or taste like. We don’t have to set a timetable. He might give us something sweet, something salty, or something brand new. We are called to just trust Him. In the process we might even find ourselves in a place where what once seemed repulsive, might actually end up to be a refreshing blessing. And we just trust that while whatever he gives us might be like a cucumber that we’ve never imagined enjoying, that one day He will work it together into a yummy cucumber salad.

floored

September 14, 2013 — Leave a comment

Real conversation when Paul got home yesterday afternoon:

Me: I feel like I was the worst mother ever today….

Paul: What ma…(interrupted)

Gideon: AGH!!! (as a plastic swimming fish goes flying down the stairs)

Me: (sigh)

Paul: (laughter)

Me: Okay, maybe they haven’t been the best kids today either.

At the risk of sounding crazy, at three separate times yesterday, I found myself lying on the floor. Not playing with anyone. Not cleaning anything up. Just enjoying the silence way down there. It’s like the whole world stands still and peaceful in that little world that exits in the last 5 inches of space before hitting the floor. (And we even ended school at 9:30 in the morning!)

The day started with our end of the week little tests to make sure my kids are actually listening to me and learning something. Like I said, by 9:30, we were done. I promised the kids earlier in the week that if we ended early on Friday we could go visit their friends during recess at school. Talk about motivation! So we spent an hour out there in the hot sun at the elementary school playing it up.

My goal for the rest of the day was to clean the house. So, because I had already worked on cleaning the kitchen a little before we left, we ate lunch AWAY from home. When we finally got home, it was time to get back at it. But as soon as we walked in the door, a drink slipped through a pair of little hands and it was all over the floor. Good thing that floor was going to get cleaned anyways as soon as we finished eating.

The kids were given the task to play or watch a movie and let mommy clean. This worked for awhile until someone (they shall remain nameless to protect their identity) got a splinter. When splinters breed with this particular child a new beast is born. Oh, man…D-R-A-M-A. That kind of thing tests my patience like none other. Especially, when I am trying to fix the problem, namely get the splinter out of the finger, and am slammed with a reaction that would suggest I am taking a chainsaw to it. Momma did not do so well. I eventually had to just get up and leave, letting the screaming beast figure it out on its own. I did not speak with love or care or concern at the end of that conversation. Not a good moment for Mom.

Amazingly enough, walking away actually made the splinter hurt less…go figure.

It was after this, that I had found myself on the floor for the first time…upstairs in my bedroom. I had just finished picking up all the school folders and books and papers that had been collecting there by my desk all week. I had picked up the laundry that the raccoon got into and I could actually see the floor again.

Oh, sweet floor. You don’t talk back to me. You never run away from me when I am talking. You are there…even under the crap I leave on you. Ahhhh…before I knew it, there I was face down on my floor. I think I could have even fallen asleep for a little, if it weren’t for the little pieces of paper I could see all the way across the floor on my new tan carpet horizon. The impulse to vacuum overtook me and stole my moment of floor peace.

After vacuuming I hightailed it downstairs to mop. I swept first and finally got that done after quite a few interruptions by Gideon and the raccoon. I sent the girls upstairs to work on their rooms, and Gideon outside with the raccoon in his new swing. (Don’t worry, he was buckled in and the blinds were open. I could see them the whole time.) In the five minutes that lasted, I got about a quarter of the floor done. Judah was crying. Time for a nap.

I got him out of the swing and upstairs to his bed to try and take a nap. I intercepted the girls going down the stairs to put in a movie (yes, again) because they were tired of cleaning, (if they only knew). After singing him his song, laying him down, putting in his pacifier, tapping his nose and giving him his love-ie, he smiled at me and I walked out. Sweet boy. 🙂

And then he cried.

And cried.

And so started the routine: in and out of his room to “replug” him with the pacifier over and over again. His sweet smile accompanying every nap-time rendezvous. In between our little visits, I scrubbed toilets and wiped down counters and carried monster trucks out of my room and back into Gideon’s room. Then, the girls decided to take a break from the movie and play outside with Gideon. It was a good thing, because honestly, I forgot that he was still out there.

To take advantage of the moment I laid on the floor again…this time in the hallway outside of the raccoon’s room. It wasn’t for long. I was on my back silently pleading… Oh, please…go to sleep, little man. You have to be tired. You have to be…(I think I fell asleep, maybe…)

But not Judah. He was not having it. In again, song again, pacifier again, love-ie again, nose-tap again, smile again. Exit. Cry.

Stinker.

I finally rescued him from my motherly torture. I guess he is 7 months old, a real big man on campus. I guess he knows what he needs and he doesn’t need an authority figure to help him see when rest is essential to his temperament. Sigh. Whatever.

Then the kids came back in. “Oh, good! Judah’s awake!”, I heard. (If they only knew.) They started picking up their rooms again. One needed my permission to hang stuff on the wall, the other needed my overall help and encouragement to throw away practically everything in her room. Everything is special and important and has a future use. If the world comes to an end, I want her on my team. We will have plenty of McDonald’s toys (and wrappers) to throw at the zombies.

Finally, it felt like everyone had a task and didn’t need my help and I could sit for a minute with a glass of water. Then, I remembered the three-fourths of the floor downstairs that still needed to be mopped. And, yes, it was necessary. This was the sticky area that had previously been polished with a rag and Sonic Ocean Water Slush. I flipped on some music and got to mopping. The raccoon was up in his crib, out of actual physical harm, but I could hear him fuss, and little Helen trying her best to sweet-talk him. I could hear Ava at work in her room. And Gideon…poor Gideon. I forgot about him again. I can’t remember where he was or what he was doing. Not a stellar Mom day.

But, the floor was finally mopped. It looked so good. It was clean and smooth and cold. Yes, floor-moment number 3. On my face again. That little piece of floor heaven looked so good, I even moved the kitchen table out of the way so I could really stretch out. Oh. To feel the length of my entire spine release from the pressure of just standing, it was amazing. The cool floor against my face…and it smelled good…really good and clean. Just thinking about it as I write makes me want to close my eyes. It was so peaceful, in those 5 inches above the floor. So calm. So clean. So cool.

“MO———–M!” “Judah in his bed is not working for me anymore!”

I picked him up and as I was headed back downstairs, in walked Paul. I sat on the bench, which was out of it’s normal place. Oh yeah, now I remember what Gideon had been up to! I had completely forgot about the fort that Gideon had asked me to build him earlier when I was upstairs with the girls in their rooms. That’s where he was! OH… That’s where he was…waiting for me. Not a good Mommy day, at all. All the furniture was rearranged and his entire set of sheets, bedspread, blankets, and pillows were waiting in the center to be constructed into a much anticipated fort.

Thankfully, Paul was already on it, tucking and stretching and building a much needed and well-deserved fort for Gideon. Gideon ran upstairs to get a few things. Ava came down the stairs ready to play. Helen came down, saw the fort, and said, “Y’al’ve been building a fort while I have been cleaning my room?! That’s not fair…”, and started to play. (If she only knew.) Paul sat on the couch across from me and just said, “You gonna make it, Goeke?”

And this is where my, “I feel like I haven’t been a good mother today,” comment happened… and the fish flying down the stairs in a loud crash.

I think I wasn’t a good Mom yesterday. I don’t think I am a good Mom any day. I often lose my patience. I often lose my temper. I often breed my own little devilish beasts that take over my attitude and dealings with others.

But thank goodness for those heavenly floor-moments. And while the actual laying on the floor moments are good respite for a day like today, they don’t compare to the floor moments at the feet of Jesus. When I lay at His feet, when I sit in meditation enjoying sometimes a mere 5 inches of space between the world around me and the acknowledgment that Jesus loves me, I am surrendering all over to Him. I don’t get distracted by the paper from the 3-hole punch stuck on the carpet. I don’t worry about how many times I forgot Gideon, or how I may or may not have thrown Judah completely off a nap schedule. I hand it all over to Him, asking Him to forgive my shortcomings, to heal the hurts that I have caused. I can plead to Him- not to take a nap, but for all my restless moments. I ask him to show me where and how I can love better, and even clean better. I ask Him to make all this “family rehab” worth it. I ask Him to give me more floor space- more time with Him to focus on Him. And sometimes, even literally more floor space for our growing family and all their Happy Meal mementos.

And in those moments before His throne, in His house, if I am quiet and still enough, I can hear him remind me of his forgiveness, his mercy, his unfailing love. Psalm 23:6 says it this way, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Being in His presence, sometimes, face to the floor, reveals my meekness, sinfulness, and weakness. I need a god bigger than me. I need a god who actually cares that I find joy in laying on my floor. I need a god who takes huge measures to show me that even though I fail time and time again, he does NOT ever fail me. My God gave it ALL on the cross for me, even when I can’t give my own children simple splinter first-aid. He forgives me and remembers my sin no more, even when I can’t remember where I left my own children. Through his sacrifice on the cross He cleans me and erases all my sticky accusations of a horrible mom. Like my clean floor, He washes me clean with his forgiveness and I am clean, cool, and peaceful. When I acknowledge Him in all my ways, He reminds me of ALL the ways He has acknowledged me…even when I am on the floor.

“…but, God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

I don’t do anything to deserve my floor-moments with Jesus. My little piece of heaven that exists somewhere in between my heart and my head is there because of what He has done in my weakness. It is the gift of Jesus in me, connecting me to the Father and His truths.

Thank you, Jesus, for times spent in front of your feet, wiping them with tear-filled locks. Thank you for your gentleness and kindness, loving me there, where I am, how I am. Thank you that when I am literally sent to the floor with overwhelming tasks, I am still floored by your overwhelming goodness and grace. And thank you, Jesus, for freshly cleaned, good-smelling floors.

ANGIE GOEKE

Family rehab