Mother’s Day is for…

the Mom who was up until 3am, listening to her baby breathe and making sure the temperature went down.

the Mom who is laughing when her child draws the family portrait with everyone in it, including the family pet.

the Mom who sings silly songs and makes goofy faces with her children.

the Mom who tries to remember Algebra, again.

the Mom who puts more miles on her car than some taxi drivers.

the Mom who learned how to keep score for a game she’s never played.

the Mom who looks for that perfect prom dress with her daughter.

the Mom who prays for her son’s future wife, that she will be godly.

the Mom who misses her own mother and wishes she were here to see this.

the Mom who is determined to love that rebellious teenager no matter what, no matter what.

the Mom who is happy to be Grandma, and pours out her love to the next generation.

the Mom who prays, loves, forgives and finds great joy in her high calling.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Lynne

I’ve run into many moms who struggle with the idea of how to celebrate the religious aspects of Easter with their children, in light of secular traditions.  Some families have chosen to abandon the whole chocolate egg thing altogether (which is hard for me since I’m so addicted to chocolate. Others find a nice balance and try to incorporate both. I think the bottom line is this- Have we, “taken every thought captive to the obedience of Christ” as Paul writes in  2 Corinthians 2:5? In other words, Do we use this celebration to bring the message back to the truth about what God is saying?

Personally I don’t have a problem with egg hunts and candy laden baskets. In our family we wanted to give the message “Today is a special day, it’s not like any other.” Then after opening our basket treats we put on our Sunday clothes and went to church to celebrate the reason for the fun. There is an empty tomb, our sins are forgiven, life with God is fun and exciting. We’d be silly not to celebrate, with as much pomp and circumstance as possible, the best news on the planet…He is Risen!

Happy Easter!

These occasional days of sunshine peeking through my California winter cause me to yearn for summer fun- BBQs, biking, and swimming on hot lazy days. It makes me kind of nostalgic. I still remember the summer of ’71 when I learned to swim. My mother took me to a club that offered city sponsored swim lessons. As a little girl in the Dolphin swim class, I was treading along quite nicely until forced to face my greatest fear…the diving board. I’d like to tell you it was the high dive, so high that you’d get a nose bleed from the altitude change, but that would be a lie. Nevertheless, the platform was fierce, a virtual pirates plank hovering over an ocean of water threatening to cast me downward into Davy Jones’ locker. My instructor was a seventeen-year-old boy, who no doubt signed up in hopes of earning enough money to take his girlfriend Colleen to the local Foster’s Freeze. In retrospect, he wasn’t paid nearly enough.

“Come on, you can do it!” he coaxed from his catch point, 800 feet below the board, or so it seemed. Peering down I made a decision that day as firm as any Baptist convert coming forward on a Sunday night…I wasn’t going to jump. Then he did something outlandishly stupid, he got out of the pool and joined me on the board. “Let’s jump together,” he suggested. Yeah right. The minute he touched my shoulders I executed a defensive move so severe, it’s been banned from legitimate self-define classes across the world. Basically I became a human octopus. Once he pried my arms from his neck, I locked my legs around his legs making it impossible for him to move without falling. Lifeguard boy was freaking out, after all it’s not everyday you have a 9-year-old suctioned to your body.

Moms, previously spying their precious tots in the floaters and sinkers class, were enthralled with the predicament this young boy had gotten himself into. I’m sure my mom was joining the others in their laugh-fest, making comments like, “I wonder who that child belongs to?” Eventually, my instructor realized there was only one way out. Yep, he jumped. And unlike the captain who goes down with the ship I bailed from my human buoy and swam to the top.

Now in case you think this silly episode in the life of Lynne is for not, I’ll have you know that I’ve gleaned two very valuable lessons from this ‘precious memory’.

One, I’ve only met one other in my life who was brave enough to come and join me in my place of fear and allow me to cleave tight.
Two, when you want to rescue a person who is needy, that person will suffocate you if you don’t help him or her jump into a love that is deeper than the ocean itself.
In case you’re wondering, the answer for both lessons is God.

Have a great day.

We Christian moms have one hope for our children that far surpasses all other dreams. More than good health, a decent job, and the ability to pick up dirty laundry we moms want our children to become Christian believers. We do many things to encourage this hope: take them to Sunday school, Awanas, VBS, and various other church functions. We try to live by example, nurturing our own walk with God. We pray, and pray, and pray. Still, there is one thing that must happen in order for our children to develop the type of faith that surpasses a godly heritage…they must know him personally.

Sometimes I fret (a fancy way to say worry but the Bible says I shouldn’t do that) when I look at where my children are, and where I think they should be. Although my kids are on task most of the time, sometimes they make bad decisions, or don’t make the ones I think they should make. Other times they question everything I’ve so diligently taught them over the years. Not too long ago I cried out to the Lord and asked him where I went wrong? Did I miss a step? God assured me I had, it was the one where I forget to step back and let Him work.

If I’m truly honest about my own faith walk, I have to confess that my greatest commitment came about during the toughest times in my life, time spent with me and God wrestling it out Jacob style. My faith is authentic, not inherited from someone else–there’s no God chromosome. Not worn like a well-intended hand-me-down-God’s not in the second hand store business. God and me keep it real.

That’s truly what I want for my children as well, an honest faith that will carry them through this lifetime and onto the next. I’m making it my goal to pray and ask God when to jump in and when to step back and watch the Master at work. My children are on a journey to the cross and journeys usually take more than a day, sometimes years. After all I’ve been on one for quite some time now.

Blessings, Lynne

I’m not sure why I’m posting this now. Maybe because my friend just lost his wife to cancer. It reminded me of the time another friend of mine lost her 18 month old son. (I posted a poem about it below) . Please don’t think that I lack a positive and hopeful outlook for this year,  rather I want to make sure my life is based upon the right kind of hope. Hope that isn’t reliant on economic indicators or whether or not the housing market recovers. It’s not dependent upon the war ending or pandemics ceasing. Rather this kind of hope is more grounded.  Someday Jesus will come again. He will rescue those who are ready for his coming.

Are you ready?

Matthew’s Call
by Lynne Thompson

I heard my mommy calling me one springtime afternoon
But then I heard another call, some say I answered far too soon.
My Jesus was calling me, His voice so soft and sweet
It was the Jesus Mommy sings about, that I had a chance to meet.

It was just as Mommy told me, Jesus loves me, it is true
He took me in His loving arms and created me brand new.
Now I can smell how spring was meant to be, winter, summer, and fall
But, the sweet aroma of a prayer is the nicest scent of all.

From the tree of life I eat choice fruits, though I never hunger here
In fact, Dad would be glad to know I never shed a tear.
The colors here are not on earth; you need new eyes to see
When you get yours you’ll understand the way things ought to be.

I can hear all Mommy’s lullabies, for God keeps them in a jar
And I open it so often, that I know she’s not too far.
Yes, I heard my mommy calling, but I could not answer back
You see I’m with my Lord, and there’s nothing here I lack.

I promise to be here Mom and Dad when my Jesus calls to you
And then you’ll understand why my staying, was the best thing
I could do.

This tends to be a Christmas favorite. Enjoy, and Merry Christmas Everyone!

Like most kindergarten boys, there’s a bit of elfish mischief in David, that revels in making seven­year­old sister, Cassie, jump, scream, and run frantically from whatever torture tool he flashes; albeit snail or water balloon. But for the most part, my two children are inseparable. Bunk beds become secret forts, pinkie promises are sacred, and treats are to be divided 50­50. Even with so much friendship between them, I was not prepared for the small act of sacrificial love expressed one Christmas.

It was a windy day in December when David and I packed up his photo frames that he so carefully painted for the all­school Christmas boutique. With me at his side acting as cashier, he was quite the little mer­chant, enticing the children to buy his wares; after all you get a free piece of candy with every purchase. It did­n’t take long, however, for him to realize that while he sat working, the rest of the children floated along this makeshift mall purchasing “stuff.”

“Mom, when do I get to shop?” he asked.

I shoved a dollar into his hand and told him that I’d mind the store while he looked around for a while. Only two minutes later he came back with a sack holding his purchase, and I mentally prepared a future ser­mon about how it’s much easier to spend money than make it. I then opened his sack and to my amazement there was a beautiful 8­inch porcelain doll!

“David, where did you get this, I only gave you one dollar?”

“I know, she costs five dollars,” he explained, “but I told them I wanted to buy Cassie a doll. So they told me I could have it for one dollar.”

There are not words to express how proud I was of my son, who spent his only dollar on his sister, and got a bargain to boot. It was one of those “Mom Moments,” when you believe your child will indeed win the Nobel Peace Prize.

I only wish the story ended there, but it didn’t.

After selling our frames, we packed everything up and headed to the car. It was then I heard the crash.

“No!” I yelled running over to David as he lifted the doll out of the gutter, her feet lying shattered in pieces on the ground.

“Oh, David” I sobbed.

“I wanted to give Cassie a pretty doll for Christmas and now she’s broken!” he yelled.

All I could do was hold him as he wept into my shoulder.

I knew there was no fixing her, but Moms and surgeons have a lot in common, in that we both recon­struct what others believe beyond repair.

“David,” I said, “we could put some special booties on her feet, and no one will ever be able to tell the difference.”

“Really, Mom?”

When Christmas morning arrived I pulled Cassie aside and explained to her that David bought her a special gift, and that it was accidentally broken. I asked her to love it anyway.

At first, I felt a little funny about prepping her for the event. Shouldn’t I trust that my daughter would naturally do the right thing? No, I realized that human nature is too adept at finding the flaws. Unfortunately that truth applies to me. God has to continually tap me on the shoulder and say, “Be gentle with your fellow man, he has flaws, personality defects borne out of a shattered life, but his heart wants so badly to contribute something of value.”

Was Cassie grateful? Yes, and David beamed with joy. I ran to get the camera, in hopes of capturing this holiday moment. As I focused through the lens on my two children, I blinked in disbelief. Slowly moving the camera away from my eye I gazed upon the doll’s face. I had never noticed before, but her eyes were painted closed.

Blinded by love, overflowing with grace. Isn’t that what Christmas is all about?

Here is my article, currently running on the Focus on the Family website, that shares how to include every age group in Thanksgiving Day festivities.

Blessings,

Lynne

Check out my “All Things Toddler” articles on Focus on the Family’s website. Hopefully this will shed some insight on these creative and strong willed creatures we love and adore.

www.focusonthefamily.com

Some of you may not know this, but I took a job with the local Christian school this year. I’ve enjoyed teaching journalism to a class of high school students and helping them to set up an online newspaper, as well as visiting with their parents ie. other soccer moms. To launch this newspaper we filmed a video. I hope you enjoy!

TCS Tribune

Blessings,

Lynne