Finding the Right Words

I’ve been searching behind the curio cabinet and under the stove for the letters to make the words Merry Christmas on our fridge. But sometimes, the words just aren’t there. This was all I could come up with. Shrug. It’ll have to do.

So, here’s to you if you’re also hobbling something festive-ish together with a duck butt and a number 2. Here’s to you if you baked cookies with the kids; foregoing beauty for memories. Here’s to you if you took time to stop and pray with a colleague who is feeling anything but happy during this season of joy, even though you’re not an ornate prayer. Here’s to you if you answered the call to invite a neighbor to church this Christmas, sweaty palms, fear of rejection, and all. The words might not have been perfect, but you reached out. And, maybe through your broken-but-willing attitude, you shared a connection or a smile with someone who needed it. Keep praising God where you are and with what you have.

The New Washing Machine

Raise your hand if you’ve ever left a load of laundry in the wash and forgotten about it. Whether it’s for half an hour, over night, or until I go to do laundry again the next week (don’t judge me, I’m not the domestic goddess that my mother is. They don’t make ’em like that anymore), I’ve done it all. And damp-yucky-forgot-to-switch-the-laundry smell is, in my book, second only to found-a-sippy-of-milk-under-the-car-seat-in-July smell.

Recently I was feeling pretty smug about not forgetting the laundry anymore. Before we moved, I used to do it all the time. Now, I can’t remember the last time my forgetfulness has been punished with a whiff of that stink. Go me!

Before I could reach to pat myself on the back, the washer chimed its sweet little digital bird call; “Twee diddle dee diddle deedle leedle dee.” Such a stark contrast from the one-and-done “SQUAAAA!” notification from the crotchety old washer at the other house. This one doesn’t bellow, it beckons. It’s like he’s singing “Your clothes are done. I’m here. Pay attention to me. Move them to the drier now or they’ll stink.” If I’m changing a diaper or otherwise occupied, he’ll sing again in 5 minutes. It’s the same sweet warble.

Friends, Our God is like that. Like a dishwasher designer knows how to call this momma to change the wash, like a shepherd knows his sheep, the Father knows just what kind of call and what reminder intervals we need to pull us away from the distractions of the world to focus our attention back to Him.

He doesn’t call for my attention because He needs me. He calls because He knows I need Him. Without attending to His call, I’d get stinky again.

Only He can keep the dampness from sneaking back in. My distractions are met with reminders. He gently reminds me to stop what I’m doing and pay attention to Him.

Father, Thank You for knowing my name and calling to me. Thank You for washing machine songs and for all the ways in which Your creation points back to the character of its Creator. Far too often I let distractions of this world get in the way of spending time in Your Word and in prayer. Continue to put my name on your lips, to sing to me, to urge me, to remind me, and to desire a relationship with me. Tune my eyes to see and ears to hear all the ways in which this world points me back to You, that I may be amazed by the everyday and the mundane ways that Your Grace finds me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

~Wiff Love

Your Grace Finds Me, Matt Redman

Family Resemblance

Jillian: Hahaha. Zachary! What happened to your hair?

Zachary: Daddy cut it.

Jillian: That’s funny. You look like Daddy!

Zachary: Really? Let me see!! *runs into bathroom to look in the mirror* … Yep! I don’t know why you’re trying to pick on me, though. Daddy’s a handsome guy!

So confident in the face of adversity and so secure in his identity. Rather than be rattled by an attack, he chose to see it as a high praise. As always, God uses these tiny humans to teach me another lesson when it’s me that’s supposed to be doing the teaching.

When do we look most like our Father?

“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma.” Ephesians 5:1-2

When do we look most like our Father? When we love.

~Wiff Love

Mail’s Here

Frustrated, drained, and needing 45 seconds of silence, I walked to the mailbox even though I’m positive that was a landscaper trailer and not the whir of the postal truck. Yep. Empty. Wasted trip.

As I turned around to walk back into the house, I was hit between the eyes with my never-ending list of things to do before the snow flies. Plant the hosta, trim the birch tree, fill the flower beds with more dirt, repair the screens, power wash the siding… and that’s just the front yard. Ugh. My frustration with the three squabbling and demanding littles in the house began to deepen. If it weren’t for them, I’d be done with my to-do list by now.

Them.

As soon as I thought it, I was convicted by the Holy Spirit. It was only then that He let me see them.

Them.

Two at the door and one in the dining room window. Those sweet faces, missing me while I’m on my mini mom vacation and all-inclusive pity party.

I get so lost in the daily perceived drudgery of motherhood, that sometimes I lose sight of my mission. I’m not here to have the perfect kids or the perfectly landscaped front lawn. Most importantly, it’s not all about me. I’m here to be God’s hands and feet, to train up these Wifflettes bathed in Scripture, and to give grace abundantly because grace has been abundantly given to me.

Even though the post office didn’t deliver any letters to my mailbox, this Heavenly message was delivered right on time… as always. Deep breath. Sigh.

~Wiff Love

Jonathan vs. Bubble Wrap, the Video Series

Part 1: The Encounter

We’ve all been here. New food. A new job. A new relationship. A new obstacle to jump over. New stuff can be scary.

Part 2: Paralyzing Lack of Courage

Do you react with fear? Do you step back to analyze? Do you test the waters before jumping right in? Do you wait and watch to see who else is doing it and how? Maybe you need someone to come alongside you with just the right motivation or words of encouragement.

Part 3: The Incentive

Sometimes no matter how badly you want to overcome your fear, you’re incapable of doing it on your own.

Part 4: If at first you don’t succeed…

Part 5: Try, try, and try another way

Sometimes I get to this point and realize that I’ve been ridiculous. My fear was unfounded and the only thing stopping me was myself. Other times, you finally muster up the will to touch/do/say the scary thing and find that it is, in fact, worse than you’d made it up in your mind to be. This is impossible. I. Might. As. Well. Just. Quit.

Part 6: Not Alone

Fine. I’ll swallow my pride and insistence on independence. Daddy, please, help me. I need you. I can’t do this on my own.

Part 7: Suited up for Battle

It’s almost embarrassing. I look so silly. Will this solution work? Okay Daddy, I’m trusting you. Here I go.

Part 8: (Spoiler Alert) Success and Skittles

At what point in the journey do you ask your Father for help? The command is simple:

“But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Matthew 6:33

So often, I’m just like Jonathan. I try EVERYTHING to do it on my own first. I ponder the situation, psych myself up, take a running start, try to jump, try again, get frustrated, try again, and then, only then, do I take my fears to my Heavenly Father. But why do I make things so hard on myself? He was sitting right there the whole time, with a solution much better than my own silly ideas. But I fear. And I fret. And I hold onto that burden like it’s a life raft and not the millstone that it is. Philippians mirrors Matthew in the order and frequency with which we should be taking things to God:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” Philippians 4:6

And why? Certainly not because God needs His ego stroked or He expects us to fall before Him as the pitiful failures that we often are. No, it’s much purer than that.

“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7

He loves us.

Heavenly Father, Your mercies and faithfulness never cease. Your love is unconditional. Turn my face away from my fears and help me to focus on You. Encourage me always to seek You first in praise and petition. Help me to remind my problems who You are so that when I encounter bubble wrap along my path, as I certainly will, I do not stumble or stall. Remove from my heart all traces of fear and fill the empty space with trust in Your providence. In Your Son’s name I ask these things. Amen.

~Wiff Love

Dry Rot

Today was one of those days that just didn’t go as planned. Instead of crossing a project off my to-do list, I was forced to focus on something that I didn’t know needed doing. Instead of one trip to Lowe’s to get the supplies I needed, we made three trips. Instead of painting the front of the house quickly while the J’s napped, I uncovered a larger issue that needed my attention first and will take days to complete. When I started roughing up the old paint I noticed that the bottom corner of one section had dry rot and my screwdriver butt sank right through. Wonderful.

I felt frustrated and more than a little betrayed by our home and with myself. How could you let this happen when we take good care of you? Why didn’t I notice sooner before it became a big problem? It looked fine from the outside.

It. Looked. Fine.

Then, I started scraping and digging. I started to pay attention. What looked okay from the outside was broken and rotten on the inside. By the time I was finished removing all the affected wood, I’d made quite a mess. Out of 10 sections on the front face of the wall, 7 of them had to have rotten wood removed and be repaired.

I keep going back to this notion that it looked fine all along. What happened? When did it happen? How did I not notice the water starting to creep in?

So much of our world appears fine on the surface. Once we start inspecting more closely, though, you’ll soon feel the screwdriver go right through the wood. Something like half of all marriages end in divorce. Hollywood has been rocked by a string of suicides lately. Alcohol and drug abuses are running rampant in our country. School shootings happen almost weekly. Yet we turn off the news, paint it over, and act like we don’t know it’s there. What happened? When did it happen? How didn’t we notice the water starting to creep in?

This project was a good reminder that I need to be dedicating more time to checking up on my family and friends, praying for them, and taking note of the ones who are “fine.”

But the reminder doesn’t stop there. How many times and in how many ways have I let this happen in my own life? In what areas have I grown complacent and allowed the spiritual rain or the ants to get in behind the paint of my heart?

“Search me, God, and know my heart; Test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, And lead me in the way everlasting.” Psalm 139:23-24

Search my heart, God. Carve out the rot and the sin. Make me aware of my areas of vulnerability and stop me from trying to cover them with paint. Fill the holes with your love and mercy so that I may be whole and strong. Amen.

~Wiff Love

Unshaken Part II

“Thanksgiving, for me, is just a Holy Spirit party. I wake up in the morning and thank God for… for everything and anything He puts on my heart.” – Sally Burke, An appropriate quote for November, but a wonderful reminder that we need be thankful more than just one Thursday a year.

At the Unshaken Illinois event, we had the pleasure of hearing Sally Burke, the President of Moms in Prayer, speak. She reminded us of the mission of Moms in Prayer and that we are called to stand in the gap for our children; called to pray on their behalf.

She called us sisters every time she addressed the group and meant it as more than just a platitude. She’s intentionally trying to cultivate this idea that, by praying together for our children, we are creating a formidable bond of sisterhood. Then, Sally told a story that I’ve heard before, but in a way I’ve never thought about it. She told the story of Moses in the book of Exodus; of when the Israelites were attacked by the Amalekites. During this battle, Moses climbed a mountain and stood in the gap for his people, with his staff in the air rendering prayers to the Lord. Prayers for protection of the Israelites and prayers to defeat this enemy. As he stood, they were winning the battle. However, as time wore on, he grew tired and began to lower his arms. It was then that his brother Aaron and a man named Hur moved a rock on which for him to sit and raised their own arms to prop up Moses’. They saw their brother, tired and weary in his attempt to shoulder the full burden of prayer alone, and they stood beside him and gave him some of their strength.

This story resonated with me because before Kelly reached out to me to join her at Moms in Prayer, I was a weary momma. I felt like I was shouldering the burden of praying for my children alone. Since we’ve started praying together each week, I’ve seen changes big and small in Zachary and our family. Possibly most changed of all, though, is me. I am now reassured that this sisterhood of God’s mighty faithful women that He brings into my home each Tuesday morning will lift my tired arms Heavenward when they lack their own strength. I have seen them give their voice in prayer for my children and my family when I lack the words to speak. What comfort this sisterhood brings me. I was reminded this weekend, both by the speakers and the quiet loyalty of a dear friend asking “How can I help? Do you want some cold pizza or can I pray with you?” that this bond in faith that we share is a powerful one.

I’ll leave you with a quote of Sally’s that I rushed to scrawl in my notes, squinting through my tears. I think she perfectly sums it up “Sisters, courage is not a lack of fear. No. Courage is really just fear bathed in prayer. It’s saying ‘I know you can’ to God and asking Him to make it so.”

~Wiff Love

Teaching my Son about Consent

Rape, sexual assault, and consequences of actions have been in the news a lot lately. Everyone’s got an opinion, and mine, predictably, has to do with how all of this impacts my children and my parenting. 

Now, before you get to thinking this is going to be a “lock up your daughters” post, let me stop you right there. I’m the mother of a daughter, yes. But I’m also raising a son; one who is and I hope will continue to be a thoughtful, empathetic, intelligent human being. At four years old, he has already learned many life lessons about this sensitive topic; we will continue to talk about it more as he grows. For now, here’s what we work on:

Impulse control: If you see a cookie on the table that you know is for after dinner, don’t take it. You’re capable of self-control.

Taking no for an answer: In a generation where we are supposed to minimize the word “no” in our parenting vocabularies, there are still times when an entitled tot needs a finite boundary. 

Don’t make me tell you twice that the stove is hot. You touch it and someone is going to get hurt. I don’t care how fun, interesting, cool, or exciting it looks. No. And no means no. 

Respecting personal space: If you don’t want a hug right now, no one is going to force you to give them a hug. Similarly, if Daddy wants to be in the bathroom to poop alone, you need to respect his privacy and leave when he tells you to. You can talk to him about trains in a minute (oh, look, more impulse control)

Consent: This one is possibly the easiest to see in daily conversation if I just ask the questions that get him thinking. We’re working to make sure Zachary understands that not everyone wants what he wants at the same time that he wants it… he’s getting there. With a leinant court ruling on my mind, we had this conversation about going swimming over lunch the other day:

Zachary: “Can we go swimming?”

Katie: “It’s raining today, but can we talk about swimming for a minute?”

Zachary: “Okay. Like swimming in Papa’s pool?”

Katie: “Yeah, let’s say you wanted to go swimming and wanted a friend to come with you. What would you do?”

Zachary: “I’d ask them.”

Katie: “And what if they said yes?”

Zachary: “Then we go swimming!”

Katie: “But what if they said no?”

Zachary: “Then we wouldn’t go swimming. That would be sad.” 

Katie: “Well, what if the friend said yes and came over in their swimsuit but then changed their mind and said they didn’t want to go swimming?”

Zachary: “Then we’d probably play chalk or something.”

Katie: “What about if you ask them  to go swimming and they don’t say anything? 

Zachary: “Ask again. Maybe they didn’t hear.”

Katie: “When you ask again they still don’t answer. Maybe they’re sleeping. Would it be okay to push them in the pool?”

Zachary: “No. That’s super mean. Like a bully. They could get water up their nose and cough!” 

It’s never too early to learn. Start the conversation, change the culture. Don’t excuse the behavior of our boys, hold them equally accountable for their actions. Nobody likes water up their nose and everyone has the right to say no. 

~Wiff Love

Find a Happy Place… Find a Happy Place

Do you have a happy place? Maybe it’s a crowded shopping mall where you can be yourself in anonymity. Maybe it’s grandma’s house with its smell of old newspapers and yummy cookies. Maybe it’s a vacation destination; a chair in the sand on the beach somewhere or a log cabin in the mountains. My happy place is my bathroom.

Before you find yourself thinking “the Wifflette must still not be sleeping, Katie’s losing it…” let me explain what I mean. I love a hot shower. Alone. It’s not just the water or the quiet, though. It’s this room. In the shower this morning, I found myself marveling at this, my favorite room in the house, once again. What is it about the bathroom that makes it my favorite place? It’s not very spacious and far from luxurious. There’s toothpaste dried on the sink and water splatters on the mirror. This room is central to the house, with its own non-adjustable vent. So, it’s toasty warm in the winter and stays cool in the summer; perfect in every season when I step with bare feet out of the shower onto the peeling linoleum. The door is still cracked from three years ago when the Big Bad Wiff needed to get in so desperately that he huffed and he puffed and he booty bumped the door down to be with me. Speaking of damage caused by the eldest Wifflette, directly in front of me there’s a chip in the porcelain on the bathtub from a particularly rambunctious fire truck. If I squint hard enough, it looks like a cat on a fence shining through. To my right, there are the runny red remnants of last night’s bathtub lesson on rhyming words painted on the wall. Bat. Mat. Sat. Hat. Cat. I guess that makes two cats in this bathtub…. I smile at my joke and tip my head back to rinse my hair. As I look up, the smile on my face only broadens because I see the result of the hard work of my dedicated husband. His 6’2″ frame squeezed up into the tiny and way-to-hot attic to install this fan. He’s added so many skills to his resume of DIY tricks since we moved into this house.

I have this near-obsession with the idea that imperfection lends itself to beauty. As a Christian, I guess this is a reassurance of sorts in God’s unfailing love for broken, sinful me. Created in His image, I also love broken things; not in spite of their brokenness, but because of it. It goes beyond that, though, because the things in life that bring a smile to my face and make me happiest are the imperfect things. Without all that beautiful brokenness, this bathroom would just be four pale blue walls and some necessities. With it, I have a daily reminder of the love and life in this house. I came here, to my happy place, for a retreat from my crazy life. But I know I’ll never run far. Whether I remembered to lock the door or not, they’re here with me. I guess that’s what it is… Wherever there is love and family, that’s my happy place.

~Wiff Love

 

Dogs Don’t Worry if Their Butt Wiggles… They Just Wag

Today, while I was at Zachary’s school to pick him up, I got a compliment from one of his classmates. “Your socks are AWESOME!” Honest, passionate, and unsolicited compliments are the best. It picked me up on a day when little girl is teething and my allergies are horrible. It gave me pause in my hurried day to thank him and it got me thinking about how toddlers and dogs have a lot in common.

They’re curious. Dogs will sniff, lick, stare at, bark at, dig up, and explore anything that is unfamiliar to them. Little humans do the same thing. Jillian spent twenty minutes the other day, with her back to the window, exploring the shadow that her body created on the floor. She’s screeched and squealed with delight in every stairwell since she figured out they usually echo. Zachary has tasted dirt, blueberries, a spider, tuna, and toilet water. He only liked the dirt enough to try it a second time. As I write this, he’s sitting beside me (not) eating his lunch. Instead, he’s peeled the label off a bottle of water and has been, for the past 3 or so minutes, sticking and unsticking his hair to the glue that remains from peeling off the label. Why? “Because it’s a cool sound. Listen!”

They’re genuine. If a toddler compliments my socks, or a dog appears happy to see me when I enter a room, I know I never have to doubt their authenticity. Dogs don’t deal in favors. Kids can’t be fake (they are pretty awesome socks).

They’re exuberant. Everything they do, they do all the way. If you want to go to the park, run there like you’re being chased by a bear. If you’re hungry, eat like it’s your last meal or your siblings want to steal it (they might, you know!). If you love someone, love with reckless abandon. Love like you haven’t been hurt or rejected. Right now. Without fear. Tell them. Hug them. Kiss them. Smile so wide it moves your ears. Wag your tail until your butt wiggles. Bring them their own dirty underwear as a present or make them a ripped toilet paper roll bracelet that doesn’t fit. In everything you do, love.

I hope to get a Wiff Pup some day soon so we can show Zachary and Jillian the love and lessons that life growing up with a dog provides. I also hope that they will stay like dogs forever; never ceasing to be curious, maintaining the courage to be their authentic selves in all they do, and choosing to love as if it isn’t a choice at all.

~Wiff Love