Murphy State of the Union Address

As Mommy of this family, I am happy to say that great strides have been made in this wonderful family of ours.  In the past year, chores are being done with a bit less whining (including me).  Routines have been established.  Tables are getting set.  Bathrooms are getting clean.  But more can be done.  Rooms need to remain straight.  Socks need to not be balled up in the hamper.  When something is taken out, it needs to be put away.  (Put where??  Away, I say!  Away!) 

My fellow Murphys, I am also proud to say that we have turned lemons to lemonade.  In the fall of 2012, we lost two great trees to a powerful storm.  I can stand before you today and announce that we were recently able to purchase a wood stove.  The many years that those trees stood as sentinels on our property will be used to heat our house.  Their memory will live on for many days into the future.  Each morning that we wake up to a warm house, each day that it is frigid out, but toasty inside, each time that we receive our heating bill, we will remember that without their sacrifice we would be a poorer family.

 

Next, I have appointed Daddy as Discipline Czar.  He will be forming a committee to look into the issue of discipline within our family.  Topics that he will consider include: is the discipline meted out fairly and universally?  Are the consequences appropriate for the offense?  Are the punishments too harsh or too lenient?  Is a good dose of mercy being applied?

Looking toward the future, I call upon my fellow Murphys to reach higher -- be kinder, share more, yell less.  Say your prayers, kiss your parents.  On my end, I can promise you, that I will provide yummy dinners that taste like bubble gum, to have the laundry folded and put in your drawers before you even know they're missing, that I will only ever speak in a sweet voice, that I will always say 'yes' to reasonable requests, that I will let you play on the computer and watch TV in as much as it is good for you.  I will provide you with free health care, free housing, free food, free transportation and free clothing.  What more could a member of this great family ask for?

In closing, I am proud to be your Mother.  I am proud to have you as my children.  May God bless each of you, and may God bless America.

Motherhood Is a Calling (And Where Your Children Rank)

 

A few years ago, when I just had four children and when the oldest was still three, I loaded them all up to go on a walk. After the final sippy cup had found a place and we were ready to go, my two-year-old turned to me and said, “Wow! You have your hands full!”
She could have just as well said, “Don’t you know what causes that?” or “Are they all yours?!”
Everywhere you go, people want to talk about your children. Why you shouldn’t have had them, how you could have prevented them, and why they would never do what you have done. They want to make sure you know that you won’t be smiling anymore when they are teenagers. All this at the grocery store, in line, while your children listen.

A Rock-Bottom Job?

The truth is that years ago, before this generation of mothers was even born, our society decided where children rank in the list of important things. When abortion was legalized, we wrote it into law.
Children rank way below college. Below world travel for sure. Below the ability to go out at night at your leisure. Below honing your body at the gym. Below any job you may have or hope to get. In fact, children rate below your desire to sit around and pick your toes, if that is what you want to do. Below everything. Children are the last thing you should ever spend your time doing.
If you grew up in this culture, it is very hard to get a biblical perspective on motherhood, to think like a free Christian woman about your life, your children. How much have we listened to partial truths and half lies? Do we believe that we want children because there is some biological urge, or the phantom “baby itch”? Are we really in this because of cute little clothes and photo opportunities? Is motherhood a rock-bottom job for those who can’t do more, or those who are satisfied with drudgery? If so, what were we thinking?

It's Not a Hobby

Motherhood is not a hobby, it is a calling. You do not collect children because you find them cuter than stamps. It is not something to do if you can squeeze the time in. It is what God gave you time for.
Christian mothers carry their children in hostile territory. When you are in public with them, you are standing with, and defending, the objects of cultural dislike. You are publicly testifying that you value what God values, and that you refuse to value what the world values. You stand with the defenseless and in front of the needy. You represent everything that our culture hates, because you represent laying down your life for another—and laying down your life for another represents the gospel.
Our culture is simply afraid of death. Laying down your own life, in any way, is terrifying. Strangely, it is that fear that drives the abortion industry: fear that your dreams will die, that your future will die, that your freedom will die—and trying to escape that death by running into the arms of death.

Run to the Cross

But a Christian should have a different paradigm. We should run to to the cross. To death. So lay down your hopes. Lay down your future. Lay down your petty annoyances. Lay down your desire to be recognized. Lay down your fussiness at your children. Lay down your perfectly clean house. Lay down your grievances about the life you are living. Lay down the imaginary life you could have had by yourself. Let it go.
Death to yourself is not the end of the story. We, of all people, ought to know what follows death. The Christian life is resurrection life, life that cannot be contained by death, the kind of life that is only possible when you have been to the cross and back.
The Bible is clear about the value of children. Jesus loved them, and we are commanded to love them, to bring them up in the nurture of the Lord. We are to imitate God and take pleasure in our children.

The Question Is How

The question here is not whether you are representing the gospel, it is how you are representing it. Have you given your life to your children resentfully? Do you tally every thing you do for them like a loan shark tallies debts? Or do you give them life the way God gave it to us—freely?
It isn’t enough to pretend. You might fool a few people. That person in line at the store might believe you when you plaster on a fake smile, but your children won’t. They know exactly where they stand with you. They know the things that you rate above them. They know everything you resent and hold against them. They know that you faked a cheerful answer to that lady, only to whisper threats or bark at them in the car.
Children know the difference between a mother who is saving face to a stranger and a mother who defends their life and their worth with her smile, her love, and her absolute loyalty.

Hands Full of Good Things

When my little girl told me, “Your hands are full!” I was so thankful that she already knew what my answer would be. It was the same one that I always gave: “Yes they are—full of good things!”
Live the gospel in the things that no one sees. Sacrifice for your children in places that only they will know about. Put their value ahead of yours. Grow them up in the clean air of gospel living. Your testimony to the gospel in the little details of your life is more valuable to them than you can imagine. If you tell them the gospel, but live to yourself, they will never believe it. Give your life for theirs every day, joyfully. Lay down pettiness. Lay down fussiness. Lay down resentment about the dishes, about the laundry, about how no one knows how hard you work.
Stop clinging to yourself and cling to the cross. There is more joy and more life and more laughter on the other side of death than you can possibly carry alone.

(Reposted with author's permission.  Originally posted at www.desiringGod.org on July 14, 2011.)

Financial Mismanagement for Beginners

I wanted to take this opportunity to provide our readers with a few pointers on how to avoid some uncomfortable financial situations in the new year.  Perhaps you can learn from my mistakes, whereas I cannot.  

Point one:  When you or your hubby run out of checks, order more.  I would refrain from just generally looking around the house for random, unused checkbooks.  Sometimes, there is no money in that account.  Finding two “current-looking” checkbooks does not qualify as a “score”.  Nor does it mean that the account is active.  Exercising caution in this situation will prevent mean looks from the cleaning lady who may be eyeing up your wedding ring as collateral.

Point two:  When the bank notifies you that your debit card may be compromised, take them at their word.  They do this for a living, whereas you (presumably) do not (and if so, why are you reading this post???).  Heed their advice.  Bad things happen to good people when you decline the bank’s efforts to send you a new card immediately in the mail.  They may cut off the card “for your own good” and send you a new one anyway when you realize it’s cut off.  Typically awareness of the non-working card comes to pass at rather, shall we say, uncomfortable times.

Point three:  Utility companies mean business.  Forgetting to pay one’s electric or gas bill can rapidly turn into a cold and dark situation that many people find humorless.   And the people you deal with are generally very busy, keeping up with all the other deadbeats.  Everyone has an excuse, and I have mine.  It is simply that I prefer to bake cookies rather than to keep on top of outstanding bills.  Sadly, Dominion Virginia Power does not accept chocolate chip cookies as payment or for bribes.  Seriously, it would be easier for me to send a care package of cookies via the USPS than to go online and pay my monthly bill.    

Point four:  This is key—make sure your hubby, friends, business associates, and ladies at the grocery store know of your weaknesses in this area.  Invite them to laugh at you and/or take over your finances.  When these crisis-ish situations occur, it is best to admit defeat early and often.    And pay cash whenever possible.  People like cash.  That is all. 

Marching at Home

Today was the 41st annual March for Life.  I've been marching almost every year since I was twelve.  I'd wake up early with my food all packed and get bundled up to brave D.C. in January, get on the bus, and be a part of something larger than Life.  This year, I didn't make it.  And I live about fifteen miles away now.

I was lamenting this fact as I shoveled my driveway while minding my four kids, seven and under, feeling a little guilty for not getting up the gumption to bundle us up and pack for a day of camaraderie with others who think we shouldn't pit pregnant women against the children they carry.  In my seventh month of pregnancy*, I considered taking them all into D.C. and braving the arctic freeze to be a witness to the necessity of ending the scourge of abortion in this country.

Then my five year old started to cry, waking me from my piteous guilt.  We'd been outside for ten, maybe fifteen minutes... after spending an hour getting dressed for the single digit weather.  But my five year old is not a typical five year old.  She is mentally retarded (Gasp!  I'll blog on that semantic dance another day) and has a host of other associated special needs including the inability to efficiently regulate her own body temperature.  She hates extremes and prefers climate controlled environments.  But she has also been stuck in the house for three weeks because of another medical condition and was so excited when everyone was getting dressed to get out.  So I included her.

Where was I? Oh, right, feeling guilty and she started to cry.  She held her red cold hands out to me as tears started streaming down her red cheeks.  She's a sensory seeker and hates to have her hands covered, therefore mittens or gloves had already been rejected.  I thought maybe they would remedy the situation now that she felt the natural consequences of refusing mittens.  But she refused them once again.  I took her inside, undressed her, and set her up in a safe place.  She was so happy.  She doesn't say much but she can say, "Thank you, Mommy" in her own way, which she did, repeatedly.  I went back out to finish shoveling and wrangle the troops to come inside.  It wasn't that hard.  It was darn cold out there.

But as I was pushing the snow to the edge of the driveway, I realized something.  My March for Life is here, and I march everyday.  My husband and I have opened our lives and hearts to the lives of six children - one lost in the womb to miscarriage - and are open to more, if that is God's Will for our family.  We care for a special child with considerable needs.  And in my daily tasks, I choose to live a Culture of Life, not always joyfully as I should, but always willfully. 

I hope I don't have to march again.  But today, I thank the next generation of pro-lifers who take up the banners and march.  I used to be you.  And I thank the old timers who don't want to have to march year after year because they want the fight to be won, but they do.  If the battle continues, I will march again too.  But for today, I keep all in prayer affected by the horrors of abortion, and I thank God for my beautiful children who gave me a most cherished title: mother.

*Disclaimer: My husband was on a business trip and stranded by the snow waiting for a flight.  He told me NOT to shovel, but I'm stubborn.