The easiest and quickest way to clear a room of my sons in my house, regardless of age, is to talk about the day they were born.
Really, though, they don’t want to hear any of my stories.
This month, we have a 14-16-18-18-27 Party, celebrating two sons’ birthdays and three grandsons’ birthdays. I could tell you all the stories of answered prayers sitting around the table, and if I tried, they’d just say, “Stop, Mom!” The little grandsons wouldn’t even sit still long enough to listen.
These boys don’t want to hear about how the oldest son, how he cracked open our hearts where we found a bigger love than we ever thought possible, a big enough love for more than we imagined, for more than we’d prayed.
The second one doesn’t want to hear about how he was the answer to a prayer who taught his mother unconditional love, that God’s got the plan, that He saves in ways unimaginable, that He has loved my boy bigger than I ever could. Through him, I learned the most important part of living is in the wait of a prayer sent out. Because of this son, my heart broke for the lost.
The third – he was the answer to a prayer, too. He doesn’t mind hearing about how I craved hot wings and all things jalapenos. He loves them, too! He doesn’t mind hearing about how he came before Nanny and Papaw could get to the hospital, ruining their record of being on-site for every delivery. He loves being the only one who can sneak up on me. He’s the one with the Joy of The Lord, the one allowed to tell the family story. He’s the one you’d like to sit long and talk much with. He’s the one that had stomach pains since second grade, who couldn’t run by the time he was in 6th grade. He’s grace carrying a hard story that only he can tell.
The 4th one – He’s what some will call a rainbow baby. He’s the child with the miracle story. Keith and I detoured to Cracker Barrel waiting for my contractions to get closer together, not realizing it was a miracle day and that God had been preparing for a battle before we even knew it was upon us. He was held by the hand of God that day as nurses’ tears fell, the last words I’d heard, “I don’t have a heart beat.” A literal and figurative crashing happened in that delivery room where moments before my husband’s head bent over mine prayer and all I could pray was Jesus name – because a minister had told a story about how his granny had just said the name of Jesus as a prayer when he was sick and he was made well. Jesus knows what needs doing for the saving when we don’t or can’t. In the middle of all this chaos, all those tears, an anesthetist who took 16 minutes coming because he didn’t hear the “stat” part of the page – our son was ushered into the world, held safe by the hands of God. How do I know? I have the scars and Cam has the life to prove it. What confidence, what blessing to know that even before you took your first breath, God loved you so!
The 5th one was a reminder that when God answers prayers, God answers abundantly. After our first son was born, we’d experienced secondary infertility. Years of prayer, leaning into God, learning to listen, to trust, to give the dream to Him – and He gave it back. With this son, I learned that trusting God doesn’t always mean praying and God will straightening the path, take all the stones out. Because of the 4th sons’ delivery, I needed to have a c-section two before my due date because I could hemorrhage and die before I even knew I was hemorrhaging. My doctor was taking a trip to Scotland and thought I’d probably be safe enough for him to make it back, placing me at my original due date. I left thinking, “O.K. – I have faith God’s got this.” If my faith is big enough, true enough, I will be fine – right? Between that visit and the next, unrest, turmoil roiled inside my spirit, growing, growing, growing. When I saw the doctor at my next check up, I told him I felt more comfortable going with the original plan – c-section two weeks prior to the due date. His partner delivered our son, the cord was wrapped around my son’s neck and there was a kink in the cord. Two more weeks would have been devastating for him. I learned faith is listening to God’s still, small voice to discern what He would have me do. Sometimes He knows when a battle is needed with miraculous intervention. Other times, He shepherds us onto safer paths where miraculous actions aren’t needed because unnecessary danger be avoided by listening to Him.
I understand the treasures Mary had in her heart – all the stories of her son, Jesus. Maybe she stored them up because He was the Son of God – but I think she also stored them up because of her mother’s heart for this son of hers. Isn’t that what mother’s do? Become keepers of the stories? In the storing, she was able to pull them out any time for comfort, for remembrance, for when he was hers and not the worlds – and for when He was the worlds.
“But His mother treasured up all these things in her heart.” ~ Luke 2:51
No – my boys don’t want to hear these stories, so I will store them up in my heart and treasure them, think about them, thank God for them. It’s a priceless gift God gives a mother – these memories.
Remember Me Monday: #42& Linky
“I’ll make a list of God’s gracious dealings,
all the things God has done that need praising,
All the generous bounties of God,
his great goodness to the family of Israel—
~ Isaiah 63:7, The Message
In the Old Testament, God repeatedly, quietly and loudly, tells his children, “You have forgotten me!” (Jeremiah 3:32, Ezekiel 22:12, to name a few). It’s a heart cry from a father to a child who has forgotten all the love, all the saving, helping, little and big blessings – and it leaves me stunned when I realize our Father, the creator of the universe, who knows things I cannot begin to fathom, who authors storylines that leave me amazed, delights in all of us so much, He cries out, “Remember Me.”
While every day is a Remember God Day, I am inviting you to join me on Monday mornings to come by and remember what God has done for you, for your family. Maybe God sent a cardinal darting out in front of you, as if to tell you, “I’m here,” or broke a child’s fever after you laid it all down at His feet in a 2 a.m. bedside vigil. Maybe He stood with you in the wait of a prayer sent out, or brought someone you loved to Christ. Maybe He healed your broken heart, gave your courage, or you gave Him your dreams as a love offering only to have Him give them back in an unimaginable way. Maybe God helped you survive to bedtime after a crazy Monday, or forgive yourself for missing it with your kiddos –– Whatever it is, let’s Remember Him. . . in a “Remember Me Monday” love letter.
“My mouth will tell of your righteousness,
Of your salvation all the day long,
Though I know not its measure.
I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, O Sovereign Lord”
~ Psalm 71:15-16.
Let us delight in Him by telling the stories of what He’s done! If you wrote a blog post remembering what He’s done for you, join the linky. If you didn’t but still want to praise Him for what He’s done – write it in the comment section. Then visit a comment before or after yours! One of the beautiful things about the blogging community is the relationships it builds!
Rules? Write long or short, a list or a story, include photos or not. Just Remember Him and what He has done, and let the gratitude of your heart guide you. Let’s make Monday so Rejoice, that the goodness of God spills into the rest of the week!
***All photos marked with Muddy Photography or © Blue Cotton Memory or used within Blue Cotton Memory blog(s) belong Blue Cotton Memory. Going forward, photos will be marked with Muddy Photography.