Happy Birthday to Muth

 I smirk as I begin to write because I remember switching from Mom to Muth at some point as a kid and driving her crazy and then seeing her hallmark loose shrug with waving arms as she surrendered to her new name. It seems like we never tired of thinking of ways to drive mom crazy. I guess it's because she was so all powerful that when we got under her skin  we had to go too far. From camp nowhere shorts to dubious dinner rolls, we chortled in glee if we made a joke she couldn't stand. 

She's got all of the traditional "mom" accolades of baking brownies for my friends and biscuits or muffins on the weekends that were to die for. Her own uniquely named recipes that must have Dad's mark on them like polar bear stew. 

She's gorgeous and captivating as evidenced by how she kept my dad wrapped in her web from the time she was 17 until he held on for his last breath to be with her.

She's the kind of mom everyone wants.  Devoted, biased by love, hard working, overcoming, truth seeking, encouraging, admiring and the list goes on. I know that most people can go back to their mothers love when things get hard but I always had more than that, her love was seasoned in truth and it was always my anchor. No matter what I was going through she could hear me out agree it sucked then speak simple truth into me and carry me on. I still have fragments of promises and blessings that float into my head when things get the hardest. I can thank her for speaking them over her kids with authority and faith. Because advice is cheap but His word is living which she always depended on. 

Every time in my life that she has said she feared becoming like her mother my mind went blank. I mean being like my mother would be impossible to attain. I literally cannot relate to someone who dreads being like their mother. She has lived five or six lives in 59 years and is here to tell about it.  I don't think I will ever achieve as much for the simple fact that I have never had to overcome as much. 

Anyway, happy birthday Muth! I love you so much and I hope that your birthday is filled with small treasures straight from heaven so you will know how loved you are and how celebrated your life and your faith are by your loving Heavenly Father.

It had been the hardest days of my life

She slipped over the arm of the couch and curled her smal frame into my lap with the sole of her cool foot on my belly. We melted into each other with our chins on each other's shoulders. She leaned back and smiled at me. There were sparkles in her eyes and her little teeth were like pearls. Her hair was a messy halo and her cheeks were pink petals. She said "are you in heaven Mom?" I savored her love. Then she said "should I give you a squeeze hug and tonight you can cuddle me?" I felt my heart being melted again. And I promised God that I would treasure her beautiful love. 

I might not reach 100

Someday I will look at this big hole where A month was lost without a blog. Lost in the vortex a delightful visit from Grammy and Bonka Barry; a Valentine's Day with apple beniets and prime tenderloin steaks grilled to perfection, a tedious but delightful thrifting trip, my kids glowing under the special treatment of one on one time with their beloved grandparents, good food, lots of laughter and plenty of Stella love. 

Lost also, the trauma of Eden faltering under the crushing pressure of peers and teachers her first year of middle school.

I won't wonder that I never blogged about the terrific parent teacher conference with Nicks teacher because as with all small victories and failures, they get lost in the swirling mind of a mom multitasking and playing hot potato all day and all night until her heart shrivels like a raisin. Perhaps some mothers can handle four little hearts with grace and balance and mercy and wisdom and eternal patience without satans little friends "guilt" and "incompetence" creeping in to undermine this great and daunting work. Perhaps. But for me, all it takes is one shake of the tree and I've lost my equilibrium enough for him to bend my ear. To whisper who he says I am and wilt me like a cut stem. The upside is, I'm on to him. He might have me for awhile but eventually I remember to ask for truth and reject his crippling lies. The truth comes to me in bits and pieces of the Word spoken over me by my parents. I'm placed here for such a time as this, I'm blessed, I'm annointed to bind up the broken-hearted, to set the captives free, to proclaim the victory of my God. I'm a minister to my children. I am an oak planted by the water. I am a ruby in my fathers hand. I am a warrior against principalities and powers of darkness. I am a child of God protected by his his wings and so are my children. They will rise up and call me blessed. And they will be as arrows in my hand . I will stand on it, the unshakeable foundation of the Word.