Tag Archives: stay at home mom

Praise Pact: Day 3

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My praise pact day 3:

Today I’m thankful for growing pains. The last few years have been full of growing pains of varying degrees. From challenging pregnancies, to relationships, and home-life, career and at times I’ve wanted to throw in the towel. But, from those challenges and growing pains I’ve learned what it means to be content, to trust and rely on God and His unfailing mercies and strength. I have learned that there is joy and peace in every circumstance even when it seems bleak. For that, I am immeasurably grateful and thankful.

Psalm 107

The Message (MSG)

107 1-3 Oh, thank God—he’s so good!
His love never runs out.
All of you set free by God, tell the world!
Tell how he freed you from oppression,
Then rounded you up from all over the place,
from the four winds, from the seven seas.

4-9 Some of you wandered for years in the desert,
looking but not finding a good place to live,
Half-starved and parched with thirst,
staggering and stumbling, on the brink of exhaustion.
Then, in your desperate condition, you called out to God.
He got you out in the nick of time;
He put your feet on a wonderful road
that took you straight to a good place to live.
So thank God for his marvelous love,
for his miracle mercy to the children he loves.
He poured great draughts of water down parched throats;
the starved and hungry got plenty to eat.

10-16 Some of you were locked in a dark cell,
cruelly confined behind bars,
Punished for defying God’s Word,
for turning your back on the High God’s counsel—
A hard sentence, and your hearts so heavy,
and not a soul in sight to help.
Then you called out to God in your desperate condition;
he got you out in the nick of time.
He led you out of your dark, dark cell,
broke open the jail and led you out.
So thank God for his marvelous love,
for his miracle mercy to the children he loves;
He shattered the heavy jailhouse doors,
he snapped the prison bars like matchsticks!

17-22 Some of you were sick because you’d lived a bad life,
your bodies feeling the effects of your sin;
You couldn’t stand the sight of food,
so miserable you thought you’d be better off dead.
Then you called out to God in your desperate condition;
he got you out in the nick of time.
He spoke the word that healed you,
that pulled you back from the brink of death.
So thank God for his marvelous love,
for his miracle mercy to the children he loves;
Offer thanksgiving sacrifices,
tell the world what he’s done—sing it out!

23-32 Some of you set sail in big ships;
you put to sea to do business in faraway ports.
Out at sea you saw God in action,
saw his breathtaking ways with the ocean:
With a word he called up the wind—
an ocean storm, towering waves!
You shot high in the sky, then the bottom dropped out;
your hearts were stuck in your throats.
You were spun like a top, you reeled like a drunk,
you didn’t know which end was up.
Then you called out to God in your desperate condition;
he got you out in the nick of time.
He quieted the wind down to a whisper,
put a muzzle on all the big waves.
And you were so glad when the storm died down,
and he led you safely back to harbor.
So thank God for his marvelous love,
for his miracle mercy to the children he loves.
Lift high your praises when the people assemble,
shout Hallelujah when the elders meet!

33-41 God turned rivers into wasteland,
springs of water into sunbaked mud;
Luscious orchards became alkali flats
because of the evil of the people who lived there.
Then he changed wasteland into fresh pools of water,
arid earth into springs of water,
Brought in the hungry and settled them there;
they moved in—what a great place to live!
They sowed the fields, they planted vineyards,
they reaped a bountiful harvest.
He blessed them and they prospered greatly;
their herds of cattle never decreased.
But abuse and evil and trouble declined
as he heaped scorn on princes and sent them away.
He gave the poor a safe place to live,
treated their clans like well-cared-for sheep.

42-43 Good people see this and are glad;
bad people are speechless, stopped in their tracks.
If you are really wise, you’ll think this over—
it’s time you appreciated God’s deep love.

 

What Growing pains have you experienced the last year and what has God shown you through them?

I’m okay.

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My 21 month old daughter, Addilynn, recently stubbed her toe, ran towards me and said, “Mimi, toe-sh, hurts. O-kay? yesh,I o-kay. Kisses mimi, peeze.”

Then I follow up with a kiss to those little stumpy precious baby toes and I tell her. “Oh, Addie-girl, you have to watch where you run.”

She has learned the process, the script, and knows that mom’s kisses heal and she is safe to return to running.

I,like my daughter Addie, have experienced a stub my toe kind of hurt lately. Someone recently hurt me. They don’t know they did, but they did none-the-less.

Someone misunderstood something I wrote. But, they didn’t ask me about it. I heard a concern from someone else and the original person wished to remain anonymous. So, instead of hearing my position or my feelings, they believed something about me that’s not true, and I don’t get the opportunity to set the record straight by clarifying or apologizing or doing anything that the situation could have warranted.

Although it is frustrating that someone thinks something about me thats not true, what bothers me the most is that someone in my personal life feels they can’t talk to me.

It really made me question whether or not I should write in a public setting. It made me question all the people around me.  Was it her? Was it him? Am I approachable? My easiest response to these questions would have been to withdraw and to stop writing or to allow it to impair my running abilities, or to become angry and blame them.

But,  thankfully, I went limping towards the arms of my heavenly Father instead. I spent time praying, and pouring out my heart-hurt.

He began to bandage my heart-hurt with the God-kisses of mercy, grace, and love. And he asked me, “Ash, you going to be okay?”

I’m okay because I’m learning that God will always kiss the smallest of stubbed toe heart-hurts.

I’m okay because I’m learning that maybe I need to watch my words a little more carefully. And, that maybe I’m causing stub-my-toe kind of hurt towards others.

I’m okay because I want to show grace to the anonymous person in my life. I’d like to ask them to forgive me, if my words have hurt them. I’d like them to know that I’m very sorry if I have made myself unavailable or unapproachable for them to share their hurt with me. Most importantly, I’d like them to know that while they may have hurt me in remaining anonymous that I forgive them and want to show love and compassion. And that beyond that, I am willing to risk being misunderstood again and thus hurt again in order to be obedient to the calling God has put on my life.

I’m okay because I’m learning the process, the script, and that with Abba’s kisses I’m safe to return to running.

Praise the Lord, my soul,
and forget not all his benefits—
who forgives all your sins
and heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit
and crowns you with love and compassion,

–Psalm 103:2-4

Welcome Home: this ain’t the luxury inn

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Infrequently, I like to take a bubble bath. I say infrequently because I really only enjoy baths if it’s quiet, which rarely ever happens around here. But, tonight was a night I was laying in my mock claw foot bathtub, and as I frequently do, I let my mind wander. It wandered to a luxury resort on a white sandy beach deserted by everything, but me, a book, and a tropical drink of some sort. Then my mind wanderings eventually ventured into the dream house. You know the one where the master suite is a shabby chic vintage meets slightly modern so it barely escapes being called your grandma’s bedroom. The warm Italian meets European style kitchen that beckons for all cooking to behold some sort of culinary masterpiece. The whole things envelops your senses with the smell of…the smell of…oh my gosh what is the smell? And my daydreams have a rude awakening.

A few moments and a quick look in the bathroom, and I realize that my 4 year old burdened with his incredibly difficult chore of taking things to the garbage has brought a poopy diaper graciously in the bathroom garbage. Surely, thoughts of dream houses and luxury suites cannot compete with dirty diapers. Upon the exit, removal of the garbage, and re-entrance to the bathtub, a few babies (seems weird I can say that) begin to cry and it becomes painstakingly obvious that baths for moms are not happening.

I love that daydream, I really do. But, daydreams are for the dreaming, and they aren’t reality. My reality is that while I love my house, it’s hard occasionally to ignore the facts. Facts: there’s a stain on our stair-landing where the dirty dog slept for 2 years that refuses to come clean, my curtains in the dining room have a foot long shred going down (from the same dog that we no longer have jumping up to see who was in the driveway), there’s some plaster throughout the house that needs patching, the lawn needs mowing, the shed is falling down, the place where the carpet meets tile in the bathroom is shredding, and most days my bedroom seems to have a sign on it that reads, “if you don’t know where to put it, it goes here”

My house is far from a magazine and even further from a luxury suite on a sandy beach. My house is just a house filled with loveable, used and worn thrift store finds and a few craigslist pieces of furniture. But, it’s a different sort of house. Our house has a mission, it really does.

Jesus, after being dismissed in his home town, gave instructions to his disciples.

He said, “Don’t think you need a lot of extra equipment for this. You are the equipment. No special appeals for funds. Keep it simple. And no luxury inns. Get a modest place and be content there until you leave. If you’re not welcomed, not listened to, quietly withdraw. Don’t make a scene. Shrug your shoulders and be on your way.”

Then they were on the road. They preached with joyful urgency that life can be radically different. (Mark 6:6-12a, The Message).

My husband, Cole and I decided two years ago when moving into our house, that it wouldn’t be a luxury inn, but would be home. It would be a modest place with loved-on objects, but more so that it would be a place where people feel welcomed. They would come into our front door and this would be a place where they felt they could kick up their feet and be themselves: messy, unkempt, not together, the person they are with those they feel most comfortable with. So that they may know that life can be different with Christ even while they aren’t perfect.

I won’t lie, it’s not always easy. It’s hard to allow people to see the reality of our home. It’s hard not to be prideful but to be transparent. It’s not normal, people think it’s weird. But then again normal isn’t fun. Normal doesn’t change me, normal doesn’t give people hope.

Stop by sometime, see if we’re on mission, hold us accountable, listen carefully to us answering the door. Hopefully we will say, “WELCOME HOME” and invite you in. Then please come in and please ignore the funny smells, the worn spots, the unmowed yards, and feel free to be you.

Response (these aren’t rhetorical, I really want to know):

What is your household mission? How does it play out in the reality of your life?

 

My Beautiful Mess

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Today was a day not really much different than other days, I had a few family members stop by, I changed about 8 poopy diapers between three kids, 5 additional wet ones (just for the record), stopped the world from ending over the batman action figure being placed in the wrong hands, and attempted to keep  four tasmanian devils, I mean children, out of light sockets, off of staircases and fit a nap or two in there somewhere. Sounds clean right? I wish. Sometimes I really really wish, I wish so big my brain hurts from attempting to wish more, but at the end of the day there just isn’t enough of me brain power and/or will to get much more done. It’s exhausting. But, today I know tomorrow is right around the corner, and it’ll be a different type of day, I’m having about 4-5 moms and their bringing more kids over for mom’s group.

 

What does that leave me? I call it the 3-F’s (no, not cuss words silly): frazzled, frantic, and frustrated. Usually, my brain begins to look around the mess that only a tornado could cause. Then my brain does a weird thing and flips the “initializing internal vomit” switch.. “If my husband would just remember to unscrew his coffee lid on this travel mug, I wouldn’t be taking 5 extra minutes to grunt groan and resist the urge to scream a few cuss words while trying to pry it off, and I could be in there picking up the watermelon rinds from under the highchairs. That’s going to take me an extra 5 min just to clean. Why can’t my kids be cleaner?”

Then, God (I’m thankful He did that) hit the “HOLD UP” button, and I began to realize “of all people these are mom’s they’ve seen a mess, they understand”. deflate pressure. I internally agreed, “Yes, that’s true good rationalization. Moms, they get it. Clean houses are for single or childless people everywhere.”

And, then it happened a little question infiltrated my being, “Why do you need to feel put together?” A slight cringe followed by an internally quiet, “crap”.

And there it was–who was I trying to impress? God made my life. He gave me four beautiful undeserved children. He rescued my soul. Healed brokenness. And I, in the midst of trying to minister to other moms by offering my house, was doing the very opposite of ministering to them. I was hiding the truth of my life and the beautiful mess given to me by the maker of all beautiful messes.

See, the truth of the matter is, I am prideful. Time and time again, I want to put on my fancy shoes, new clothes, and cleaned house and present myself differently than who I am in this phase of my life.

Romans 15:1-7 says,

Romans 15

 1-2 ”Those of us who are strong and able in the faith need to step in and lend a hand to those who falter, and not just do what is most convenient for us. Strength is for service, not status. Each one of us needs to look after the good of the people around us, asking ourselves, “How can I help?”

 3-6That’s exactly what Jesus did. He didn’t make it easy for himself by avoiding people’s troubles, but waded right in and helped out. “I took on the troubles of the troubled,” is the way Scripture puts it. Even if it was written in Scripture long ago, you can be sure it’s written for us. God wants the combination of his steady, constant calling and warm, personal counsel in Scripture to come to characterize us, keeping us alert for whatever he will do next. May our dependably steady and warmly personal God develop maturity in you so that you get along with each other as well as Jesus gets along with us all. Then we’ll be a choir—not our voices only, but our very lives singing in harmony in a stunning anthem to the God and Father of our Master Jesus!

 7aSo reach out and welcome one another to God’s glory. Jesus did it; now you do it!”


And here is where my prayer met brain reboot. “Rethink, yep, Ashley rethink tomorrow. Stop what your doing. Show God tomorrow”.

Tomorrow, when those ladies pull up in my driveway and walk onto my un-vacuumed floors, see the sticky watermelon mess under the highchairs, and notice the food splatters on the refrigerator and that I’m wearing sweats (hopefully they’ll miss the fact I haven’t showered in a day and a half) maybe they will be encouraged. And, maybe they will be able to push through another hard day of being a mom. Maybe, just maybe, they will be ministered to by another mom who is in the trenches. Better yet, they will be able to see that God made us all a beautiful mess and their mess is just as beautiful.

So, tonight my facebook status read “[Ashley Chambers] is needing to house clean for moms group here in the morning…but, I’m too tired now my steams run out….so…ladies it’ll be straightened but not scrubbed…raise my glass in the air and toast: here’s to being vulnerable and transparent and not at all put together!”

Response Question:

What has God shared with you recently?