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motherhood the whole & simple gospel

a word that bonds.

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My son Ames has an incredible memory. He’ll recall the last time we visited a spot when we pull into its parking lot, down to what we were wearing and what color the walls were. Like most preschoolers, he loves routine and structure. He wants ideas he can put his hands and his brain around. He repeats himself a lot, and I spend a lot of time delivering assurances on promises given.

Over the few years we’ve been together, I’ve learned that one of the best gifts I can give my son is my word. For us to thrive together, I have to mean what I say and follow through with certainty. Even if it’s easier to pacify him in a public place, I must make the hard choice to leave a place when things deteriorate, especially when I’ve warned him. Even if I’m exhausted, I must read him that book or sing him that song before bedtime, especially when I’ve told him I would. My word is my bond with this kid, and I cannot treat our conversations lightly. This relationship is a gift, a treasure, and one that challenges me daily.

I’ve found it goes both ways, though. I tend to ask Jesus the same things over and over, trying to grab hold of His ideas and His affections and His will. I want so badly to wrap them up and secure them tightly, in my grubby little earthly hands. In reality, the most assured gift I can give my soul is to fully receive the grace and goodness He has for me. Jesus meant what He said when He claimed to be the way to life. He meant what He did when He died for me. He delivers on His promises, every single time. He doesn’t take our conversations lightly, and He’s never too exhausted to sing me that song before bedtime. His gospel message is mine for the taking. His word is His bond.

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community life lately motherhood

The mom left behind.

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For the first time in a long while, I enjoyed some days off in a row last week. Right smack dab in the middle, too. Perfect. I made plans to clean and shop and write and create and relax. Things have been going going going since before Christmas, and I knew I needed some time to recharge. So on Tuesday morning, when the snow began to fall, I was filled with hope. We had a lot of food and no plans, and a snowstorm might be just the thing needed to keep me still. Over the next three days, we were covered in a blanket of snow as deep as eight inches. That’s a big deal for this Carolina girl! I snapped this photo from the end of our driveway on the last day of the storm.

My week was full of community and yet – no school, no work, no errands. Just a lot of folks hanging around in my home. For an introvert, this serves as both a blessing and a challenge. There was very little quiet and a whole lot of peace. There were sleepovers and video games and superhero reenactments. There were soups and pizza deliveries and baked goods and fireside chats. There were sibling squabbles and sibling snuggles and hot chocolate mustaches.

One afternoon, my husband and my dad took the boys to a golf course to sled. I stayed behind with my mom and the girls, settling in on the couch with a cup of chili while she read to the girls. She wore her token snow day outfit, a thick red sweater dress with a giant classic Tweety Bird on it. Vintage, right? But it’s the cutest.

That sweater takes me back to my snow days of yore, when my mom helped me put on my gloves and waited behind with hot chocolate and warm towels. When she dried my clothes between outside adventures and hosted my friends and made snow cream and let me take baths in the middle of day. This year, I didn’t do any sledding or snowman-building. I didn’t go outside much at all, which felt super different. But I did get to host friends for meals and assist a teenager into his boots because he couldn’t bend down in all of his layers. I did get to machine-dry wet clothes and arrange for midday baths and teach my kids about snow cream. To experience a few snow days through my kids’ eyes, to attempt to love them well despite their cabin fever, to introduce traditions to the next generation… these moments made the week one of my most memorable to date.

I never knew how good it could be for the mom left behind. Now I get it. I’ve gotten a taste of the other side, y’all, and the view from here is good.

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community motherhood the whole & simple gospel

I’m in the thick of it.

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I set some exciting but intense goals this year, so I expected to hit a few bumps in the road. I did not expect to be knocked flat on my back for what seemed to be most of January. As I described to my team, I feel like I’m drowning in mud. One step forward, two steps back. Exhaustion, emotional and physical. All of the feelings. I know it’s the weather and the time of year, but it’s so much more than that.

I’m in the thick of it. When Jessi first started narrowing her vision and the woman to whom she writes, I smiled at her phrase and wanted to pat her on the back. I wanted so badly to not be there anymore, to speak wisdom and laughter and love and life to the women who were. But it’s just not true. I’m in the thick of it, too. I’m right there with the women to whom I write. Most of us are all right there together. This is the beauty of the gospel lived out, of vulnerability found on the Internet and beyond.

So this month, I’m going to embrace this idea. I’m going to practice a bit more self-care. I’m going to read tweets like this and smile. Right now, my world is the smell of Chick-Fil-A. My ministry is the mess around my feet. And as Jessi pointed out so beautifully, this is not a problem. This is a gift.

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motherhood

you can take the hair off of the hipster…

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Happy Birthday, Kenneth Ames Maultsby. Your great-grandson decided to cut his hair this month. I know you didn’t love it long, but I’m grateful for your support during our beloved lion mane era. For those mourning the loss of the locks, I’m right there with you. But I love seeing this little boy grow up and call a few of his own shots. Cheers to this season. Here’s to pomade and comb-overs. In celebration of his ultra-conservative cut, I honored Ames’ months-long request for WHITE GWEEN PANTS.

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motherhood

Grease the crease.

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Hadassah Lee is the fattest baby I’ve ever had. She’s perfectly average according to the statistics, but she’s at least six months ahead of all of my other children. I’ve never dealt with folds or wrinkles or rolls, and I’ve found there’s a learning curve to be discovered. We’re forever shouting, “Grease the crease!” during diaper changes. That girl can wear some coconut oil like nobody’s business. Certain areas need to be checked and cleaned more frequently. When she drools or spits up, her chins must be investigated and not just wiped. Sometimes, it’s other folks who discover the trail I’ve left behind and all I can do is laugh. It truly takes a village.

I touched on the story here recently, but it seems as though Ames met his fourth birthday at a slight disadvantage, according to his well visit. I nodded at our family doc throughout the checklist, at all of the things Ames should be doing these days. But I had to pause at the question, “Draws three-figured shapes?” Ummm, no. “Okay, but he draws basic shapes appropriately?” Not quite. “Rachael, does the kid color?” Listen, I’m not entirely convinced he knows how to hold a marker correctly. We don’t even own a coloring book. We both laughed and moved on to the next topic, but not before he kindly reminded me to loosen up a bit and let my boy create. Ever the rule follower, I went straight home and pulled out the crafts. We sat on a blanket outside and I asked him to draw me three basic shapes, in three different colors. As long as I live, I hope I never lose that piece of white paper with the crazy squiggles on it. It was beautifully atrocious.

This stuff is embarrassing and fun at the same time. As many kids as I have, there is always room for learning. The big boys bear the weight of this so beautifully, especially when it comes to rhythms and communication. There’s a chance my bonus boys have taught me more about motherhood in the last decade than my birth children might in their lifetime. Instead of filling my days with regret and longing, I’m able to thank the ones who taught me and use those lessons on the next in line.

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life lately motherhood

Haircuts.

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The twins experienced their first haircut last week. They’ve been dealing with mullets for two years now, and it was time to do something about that. Ames had similar hair back in the day, an awkward arrangement of limp layers with a curl or two bringing up the rear. We shaved his head twice during the summer after the sisters’ birth, and it grew back much thicker and luscious-er.

I’ve had fine hair my entire life, but my little brother who received countless haircuts growing up? He has a serious mane today, y’all. Girls often meet resistance when they start expressing interest in shaving legs or plucking eyebrows, from folks warning them it will grow back thicker. Is this a myth? Or is there something to it?

Whatever it is, we’re going for it. I’d love to see the girls running around with long, thick waves in the future. Meanwhile, these bobs slay me on a regular basis. I can’t stop gasping and smiling and tousling their hair as they run by. In other news, Ames has decided he’s ready to cut his, too. So stay tuned?! That means you, Papa.

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motherhood

On continuing to give when they continue to take.

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As parents, we learn very quickly that raising kids isn’t exactly symbiotic work. It’s our job to provide children with a safe, nurturing environment for them to learn about life and all that it has to offer. It’s their job to take advantage of that environment as much as possible, so that they might enter adulthood with confidence and preparedness. As spouses, we learn very quickly that nothing is ever 50/50. We’re reminded over and over that we should not keep score, and then we do it anyway. As employees, we learn very quickly that nothing is ever fair. We’re reminded over and over to keep a positive attitude as we crank out the productivity, and we give coworkers the side eye when they don’t pull their own weight.

Life is full of situations where people take from us far more than they give, but there’s something in us that pouts and screams unfair when it happens. We want the give and we want the take, but we want it served squarely down the middle. Too bad. Life is absolutely about give and take, but life is not about fair. After all, Jesus set the bar pretty clearly. We were broken from the start, and He made us whole on the cross. He did some serious giving, y’all, and all we have to do is take that Gift. But it doesn’t stop there; He continues to give freely every time we live out of our nature and screw up with something like… pouting about the give and the take of this world.

What would it look like if we just swallowed this as truth and went about our business? What if we woke up every morning and tripped over the shoes in the hall and whispered a blessing over our children, instead of a curse? What if we lay in bed at night and reflected on the day’s wins within our marriage, refusing to keep score with our spouse?  What if we went to work every day and smiled at the coworker showed up late again without getting in trouble?

There is freedom to be found in losing all sense of entitlement and fairness and whose turn it is. There is freedom to be found in living for an audience of One. There is freedom to be found in grasping the gravity of the gifts we’ve been given. There is so much freedom to be found. So find it. Be free.

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