My Son is Seven

My son is seven. It's an age where he's altogether so big yet so little. He has matured emotionally, grown, of course, physically, yet still relishes in being scooped up, cuddled, and covered with kisses. It is an age where he still dances to Elmo with his brother and sister but sometimes wants to be on his tablet alone. He still likes his nickname --Jaguar--but only at home, not in public. He can read and write well and knows more about marine life than most adults, but is still afraid of the dark. He exclaims that his sister is the cutest girl in the world and understands that his brother is a late bloomer, but still believes in Santa and asked for a shark costume on his wish list. (His wishlist also included costumes for the rest of the family, and we could tell this by the way he specified a "babys whale shark costume" for Abigail.) He delights in giving and is grateful in receiving. His heart amazes me and his love humbles me.

My son is seven. At an age where he's altogether too big and still so little, my heart feels strangely fragile. How much longer can I hold on like this? How much longer until we can no longer do that? How much baby do I still have left and when does the boy become a man? 

So Lord, hold my mommy heart tonight. Show me where to hold on and where to let go. Teach me to teach him to be like You. Lead me and guide me where I am scared and in the dark. May my anxious heart rest, as he sleeps now, in the comfort of knowing that You are so big and never too small for me. Thank You for my beautiful seven year-old.

An Open Letter to Matthias

Dear Matthias,

You stress me out more than you know.  Lately, for instance, you have been interested in potty training, which is great except that you are constantly running around naked, because you think that taking off your pants means you must take off your top as well.  This morning you wanted to play with the faucet and because you know Mommy doesn't like you playing with the faucet, you locked yourself in the bathroom with the water running.  Mommy was frantic, trying unsuccessfully to unlock the door from the outside with various screwdrivers, calling Daddy for sympathy and then the landlord for help, when you decided you had enough, unlocked the door, and walked out like nothing happened.  You run into the street any chance you get and start running faster when Mommy comes after you; Mommy who is seven months pregnant, by the way.  You pop open the window screen and climb out onto the porch, lick rocks and chalkboards out of curiosity, and wherever we are, running, climbing, grabbing...Mommy is tired.

But when I think about what the world must look like to you, I see beauty in your wonder.  Everything is fascinating.  Everything is exciting.  Everything is an adventure and you just don't want to miss out.  Everywhere you find treasure, everywhere you discover, everywhere you marvel, and for that, my heart gives thanks.  And as you sleep, finally still, I know behind that sweetest face, you dream what must be the most extraordinary dreams.  So keep dreaming, my son, for I know your dreams are more wondrous than mine could ever be.  Your dreams are precious to me as you are my precious gift from God.

As your mommy, I promise to always protect you, always clean you up, never scold you for being the way you are, never hinder you from being the way God created you to be; to teach you but also learn from you, to lead you to where you can run, to do everything in my power to make your dreams come true, and always, always to love you.

Matthias, Mommy is tired.  But you are perfect.  I wouldn't have it any other way.


Love,
Mommy

More Love to Thee, O Christ

I grew up hearing and singing hymns in Korean and was late in the game to contemporary Christian music.  While I love modern Christian artists and the freedom I feel when I worship to them, more often than not, my heart finds its way back to the hymns of my childhood.  Today is one of those days, and the tune that rises to my lips this morning is More Love to Thee, O Christ.

So I did a quick Google search and found that Elizabeth Prentiss penned these words in 1856 during a period of illness.  Knowing that and then reading her words makes them even more powerful.  Illness in those days was often life-threatening, and of all the things she could have prayed for and desired in that time, the prayer than she made "on bended knee," her most "earnest plea" was "more love to Thee." 

My husband and I just got through a hump in our marriage.  We were both chronically tired and had pent up frustrations which escalated into a week of fighting.  Although we are good now, I can easily recall the emotional exhaustion of fighting, the pain of it, and the desire for peace during the storm.  These are things that everyone naturally desires, let alone when you are sick!  But above that storm, Elizabeth Prentiss desired one thing alone: more love to Thee.

By the time you reach the final verse, you are pretty much overwhelmed with her love to Christ!  And yet, envisioning the end of her life--which may very well have been a near reality for her--she still declares that her last breath will "whisper Thy praise," that the "parting cry [her] heart shall raise," and her final prayer shall still be "more love to Thee!"  I mean, I don't know that I would even still be praying with my final breaths!  I would probably have more of a "Get ready, Lord, I'm coming! Open those gates for me!" kinda attitude if I were that close to the end.  But still she is seeking, still she is striving, still she is offering till the final drops of her life for more love to Thee!  Now that is a good fight fought. 

This hymn is my prayer today, the desire of my heart, and the goal of my faith.  And here it is in all its uninterrupted beauty:

More Love to Thee, O Christ
-Elizabeth Prentiss, 1856

More love to Thee, O Christ, more love to Thee!

Hear Thou the prayer I make on bended knee.
This is my earnest plea: More love, O Christ, to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Once earthly joy I craved, sought peace and rest;
Now Thee alone I seek, give what is best.
This all my prayer shall be: More love, O Christ to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Let sorrow do its work, come grief or pain;
Sweet are Thy messengers, sweet their refrain,
When they can sing with me: More love, O Christ, to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

Then shall my latest breath whisper Thy praise;
This be the parting cry my heart shall raise;
This still its prayer shall be: More love, O Christ to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!

 

Cheerios

Today, as I was washing dishes in the kitchen, Matthias walked up to me with a Cheerio clenched in his tiny fist with his tiny arm stretched out toward me.  Even before I bent down to receive it, the delight on his face grew as he neared, his eyes fixed on my face to catch my reaction.  His little hand found my mouth and deposited his gift, and in return I beamed a smile, gave a little nod of my head, and said the most enthusiastic "Thank you!" I ever meant.  He smiled and chucked ever so slightly and ran back to the living room to get another Cheerio and do it again.  After hearing this exchange a couple of times, Jedidiah--who has all to quickly outgrown the delicacy of a toddler--charged into the kitchen with two fistfuls of Cheerios and stuffed them into my mouth.  I gave him the same smile, nod, and "Thank you!" that I gave Matthias, and thus my boys competed for my affection as the day began.

This little episode gave me so much joy but also rebuked me in that pure, unintentional, profound way that children often do.  The look on my boys' faces as they brought me their gifts is something I will never forget: it is what my heart should look like any time I give.  Whether it be to God or to man, my giving should be out of joy.  My giving should be out of love.  My giving should not look for anything in return.  My giving should not be a burden.  My giving should be a delight.  And also about receiving.  The way I received Cheerios from my kids is how I should react to every gift I receive.  I should never judge a gift, but always receive it as the most precious token out of honor for the giver.  My kids' eagerness to bless me reminded me what a blessing it is to give, but also how easily we can deny someone's blessing every time we don't know how to receive.

Lord, may I never give except out of a heart that looks like this, a truly cheerful heart, and when I receive, may I honor the giver by loving his gift.  And in both of these ways, may I love more like you.

The Thing About Mamas

It's been two weeks since my mom's gone back to Korea after coming to take care of me when Matthias was born, and I miss her terribly.  I was more emotional saying goodbye this time saying than when she flew back after Jedidiah's birth.  I think the reason for that is because now that I've had some experience as a mom myself, I see so much LOVE in everything she does.

Anyone who knows my mom, or has even just observed her on some occasions, knows that she is gangsta!  But those who know her closely know how soft she is inside.  That hard exterior coupled with cultural differences caused some major friction in our relationship growing up.  Her way of loving was by pushing me to do better; but instead of love, I saw criticism.  She was always busy providing for our family in some way; but rather than seeing the heart behind her actions, all I saw was her busyness.  This is not to say that she didn't have her tender moments, but to point to the fact that I didn't understand the way my mom loves. 

 My mom coaching my cousin (left), sister (center) and little me in traditional Korean bow, wearing traditional Korean costumes (1986)

It wasn't until I became pregnant with Jedidiah that I started understanding her more and more, and once I did, I was amazed.  Her heart is so big, no wonder I couldn't fathom it.  Her understanding is deep.  That woman has wisdom, depth and capacity to accept, forgive, love, and care for others in a way that makes me proud to call her Mom.  And where there was once so much tension, there is now a peace and comfort in her presence that I find nowhere else.

Everything she does is for us.  While she was here, she twice sent care packages to Korea for my brother, even though our dad was with him.  With her aging body, she bent over backwards to cook me weeks' worth of Korean food, picking up around the house so I wouldn't have to lift a finger, and even doing our grocery shopping (all the while doing the same for my sister across the bay!).  She never came over without something for Jedidiah, whether it was a pretzel or Cars play tents.  But as much as she adores her grandsons, she even threatens them (playfully) not to make things hard for her baby--me.  With a million little gestures like this, she loves, and I finally have the eyes to see that.

The thing about mamas is you never fully appreciate your own until you become one yourself.  And now that I have, all I want to do is be my mommy's baby again.  As I hear my son call for me, "Mommy! Mommy!" in his baby voice, my heart that finally speaks the same language as hers, longs to call for her, "Mommy, Mommy."  It's hard having them halfway across the world!  I am blessed beyond words to have her at all.  I love you, Mommy!

Me and My House

It's the beginning of a new chapter! Matthais, our second son, is a week old today.  God is so good.  I was able to give birth to him through VBAC this time (vaginal birth after c-section), which was my biggest prayer with this pregnancy--not to have another c-section.  Labor was a whopping 34 1/2 hours, all in all, but most of that was contracting and waiting for me to dilate fully.  Thanks to my best friend, Epidural, it wasn't too bad and the pushing wasn't nearly as bad as I had anticipated (there's some hope for all you mamas-to-be!).  I had my fears and even cried when they told me it was time to start pushing, but by God's grace and strength, the support, love, and prayers of many, and my husband holding my hand the whole way through, I had a beautiful birth.  As soon as I felt him come out, I was nearly hysterical--the relief and release of all that emotion and stress--and then when I heard his first little cry, I lost it.  I burst into tears and cries of elated joy, awe, and gratitude.  It was the most amazing thing I had experienced in my life. Carlos and I were speechless, and at the same time energized from witnessing something so beautiful and awesome

In my last week of pregnancy, I was craving cheesecake, so much so that I went through the trouble of making one, only to have it ruined by using generic cream cheese!  For my first meal at the hospital after giving birth, they served spaghetti, and what else for dessert but--yes--cheesecake! :)  Even with that plastic wrapped hospital grade cake, I felt that God is so good and cares for me so personally, down to the details of my seemingly trivial life.  I felt like He was patting me on the back and saying, "Good job."  He is so amazing.

Matthias means "Gift of God" and he is just that.  When we came upon this name as we were searching for baby names, Carlos remembered asking the Lord for another child.  He specifically prayed, "God, can You bless us with another gift?"  The next thing you know, I was pregnant, and so 'Matthias' it was.

Now that I have two children, my life is drastically changed.  Jedidiah is 2 and a half, still a baby himself.  It hurts my heart at times to see the difficulties for him adjusting to having a baby brother; things like having to wait for Mommy to hold him, and not being able to take him places, our usual every day activities before Matthias came about.  But my heart also swells with pride when I see him take it with grace, understanding and accepting that things have changed; like watching and waiting while I'm breastfeeding and not trying to inflict any harm on his brother, or simply pointing and saying, "Baby! Baby!"  He is a good, sweet boy, though he has his terrible-two-year-old moments.  I love him so much and miss my buddy, but I know it's all in due time.  I can't wait to have Mommy dates with my Jedidiah down the line!

So now we are a family of four.  How blessed and rich I am.  I am ever amazed and in awe at the goodness of my God, His love to us, to me, His favor upon us...and I wonder at His plans for us.

Lord, may our family be consecrated to You.  May our lives be for Your glory, honor and praise.

"As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord."

Amen.

Lavished with Love

Becoming a mama changes your world in every way, and I don't mean to scare you in thinking all those ways are bad =) Sure, there are sacrifices you have to make, but on the whole, I love how motherhood has increased my capacity for so many things--my capacity to love and to feel, to have compassion not only for my child but for the world at large.  I've heard it said that once you have children, every child becomes your own.  In a sense, that's true.  Now when I hear of certain situations, I ask myself, What if that were my child? And I'm able to cry and pray for them as a mother, not just an observer.  My heart feels stretched because through parenthood, God allows us to mimic His great heart.  What a privilege to know a little more of Him and how He loves. 

With that said, there's one scene in particular from the movie The Blind Side that breaks my motherly heart.  It's the scene where Leigh Anne takes Michael back to the projects to get his belongings.  He tells her to stay in the car and goes to look for his mom.  Rather than finding his mom, he finds an eviction notice on her padlocked door.  He sits down against the brick building and just cries; motherless, broken, but too proud to face anyone. 

When I see this, I'm pierced with the thought that no one should ever feel like this. 

I just watched a testimony of a young lady at our church who struggled with an eating disorder, which you can watch here: Angel's Story  Again, I was moved to tears listening to how she struggled with feeling loved, feeling beautiful.  Too many young people today don't know their worth and value, and quite frankly, it angers me.  I'm not blaming anyone for causing Angel's disorder.  In fact, I'm thankful that she had a loving and supporting team around her to overcome it.  It angers me because it's a lie of the enemy that has gripped this world to forget "what great love the Father has lavished on us--" lavished on us (1 John 3:1)!

When God's children are lost, it breaks His heart because He is a great father and He cannot see His children as anything less than beautiful, precious, cherished, of greatest wealth and valued, and so ridiculously loved. 

 How could I see him as anything less?  And how it would break my heart if he did.

Young people!  See yourself in the truth of who you are!  His beautiful beloved!