Mums' Prayer Meeting

Yesterday we had a "Mums' prayer" meet up. This is a once a month meet up in my living room where local Christian mums get together to pray for each other. I stole the idea from another friend about 18 months ago and set about telling local mums that it would be a time to meet up, chat and pray together. 

We quickly realised that calling it a prayer meeting was overstating it somewhat. Generally the first hour and a half is spent chatting and eating biscuits whilst entertaining our children, making sure they don't try and scale the stairs or destroy each other, then we spend a few minutes discussing what we would like prayer for. 

The actual praying bit comes at the end, when the children are all losing the plot and getting ready for lunch and nap time, and lasts no more than five minutes. Yesterday's prayer time took place to the accompaniment of two xylophones, a piano, and various musical toys; we all prayed with our eyes open to ensure that the children were okay, and most prayers were interspersed with the odd "shhh" here and there.

And yet, God was there; listening above the noise and helping us respond to Him and to each other in prayer. 

I have really struggled with the fact that most of my prayers to God nowadays are said whilst doing other things, or at least thinking about the next thing I need to do. It is something that I need to work on, to try and have some quiet time each day. But I have also come to realise that we do not need to pray in silence for our prayers to be real: we do not need to pray with our eyes closed for God to hear us.

Prayers do not even need to begin with 'Dear God' and end with 'Amen'. In the time we had chatting  yesterday before we even got around to praying, we had God in mind; we were preparing to pray throughout the coming month for the things going on in each others' lives; we were aware of God's promise that "where two or three come together in my name, I will be with them". (Matthew 18v20)

God is bigger than the clamour going on around us: He knows our thoughts, our actions, our lives. He does not need to 'hear' what we say because He can read what is on our hearts. 

Strike Action

The last few days have seen a lot of people taking a stand against the government and the current political and economic situation. It seems that even my two year old is getting in on the act, going on strike against 'the government of Mummy' (referred to from here on as 'the Government'.)

So it seems that this morning, as with most other mornings this week, the representative from the Union of Toddlerhood (referred to hereafter as 'the Union member') has taken umbrage at the underhand tactics of 'the Government' as she has tried to enforce various appalling rules which clearly, he feels, infringe his human rights: rules such as having a nappy changed in the morning and putting a jumper on, for example. 

After much of the week spent in deep negotiations to try to resolve these issues and reach a mutually agreeable solution, 'the Government' finally lost patience this morning and, when all other calm tactics had been attempted and had come to nothing, the last resort was tried: screaming blue murder! Unfortunately, even this had no effect on 'the union member' who appeared totally impervious to all pleas, entreaties and threats and preferred instead to run around cold and naked in his bedroom, screaming whenever 'the Government' attempted an approach. 

The situation remained uncertain as 'the Government' gave up hope of ever resolving the situation and went downstairs to give 'the union member's' brother his breakfast, whilst the union member, failing to realise that no-one was now listening, continued to plead his case alone upstairs. 

Fortunately an unbiased arbitrator was able to step in at the eleventh hour (interrupting his morning shave to do so) and was able to reason with 'the union member'. A solution was reached when 'the union member' was delivered downstairs to breakfast fully clothed and ready to apologise to 'the government' for going on strike. 

Although the problem was resolved, this left 'the Government' to bemoan her ineffectuality in dealing with 'the union member' and suggesting that maybe she should switch roles with the arbitrator and head off to his work leaving him to manage 'the union member' for the remainder of the day.

In this instance the stand-off was resolved with both parties saying sorry and having a cuddle: a happy outcome for all involved. Both parties are aware, however, that this will not be the end of the battle. Further negotiations will commence tomorrow!

With the help of God, we will.

Last weekend we had our youngest son baptised. I found the service overwhelmingly powerful as our family, friends and church family joined with us to welcome our son into the Christian faith. After the Vicar had baptised him, he said these words:

Christ claims you for his own. Receive the sign of the cross. Do not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified.

The congregation then joins in: fight valiantly as a disciple of Christ against sin, the world and the devil, and remain faithful to Christ to the end of your life.

Powerful words right? And a lot to ask of a 6 month old! Except, it has dawned on me as I've reflected on this over the last week, that these words, although a prayer for my son throughout his life, are also directed at me. Because how else is my son going to know how to be a disciple of Christ other than through the example of his parents?

I am aware that I'm only human and that there are many many times when I will not show my children what it means to be a good disciple, and for those times I am grateful for God's love and His grace that is much more far reaching than needing to rely only on me to do His work. However, I took a vow during that baptism service: to pray for my son, draw him by my example into the community of faith and help him to take his place within the life and worship of the church. 

So just going to church on a Sunday isn't enough then, I guess! Maybe taking him to church on a Sunday and a couple of Christian toddler groups during the week? Or maybe God is calling me, and all of us who are Christian parents, to really live out our faith in a way that our children pick up on. Maybe He is calling us to pray unceasingly for our children, that they may be protected from the evil in this world and grow up knowing the love of their Heavenly Father as well as that of their earthly mother and father. Maybe He is calling us to understand the huge responsibility He places on us when He gives His precious children into our care.

And maybe God is calling on us to call on Him for help and guidance in fulfilling the roles he has placed us in. As we seek to raise our children in ways that are pleasing to God, we do so knowing that we are not alone, but that we have God with us; the greatest example of a Father there ever is. 

Out of the mouths of babes....

Today, God spoke to me in a way so clear that I could not fail to hear Him. He spoke to me through a prayer that my two year old son prayed and, in doing so, He reminded me that He knows me, loves me and is with me always. 

To put things in context, I have found the last few weeks hard work. There's been nothing in particular that should make it so, but daily life has at times felt like a bit of a struggle: I guess it is probably just a combination of the daily juggling act that is looking after two small boys, and all the cooking, cleaning, shopping, and washing that goes with that. 

Everything is fine when we are out and about or with other people, but I have started to find the mornings and lunchtimes particularly difficult as I try and juggle looking after the children and meeting their needs with the things that need doing around the house, along with trying to get the three of us ready to go out to groups or visit friends. Everything just seems a bit never-ending! And as a result of all this I have started to find myself less patient with my children, particularly my two year old when he is doing what two year olds do best and being demanding!

Yesterday I spent the evening wallowing in self-pity, focusing on what I've not been doing right, or on the things that I'm finding hard. Hubby was doing his best to reassure me, but somehow his encouragements weren't sinking in. 

Fast forward to this morning and my son had found his book of children's prayers so we sat down together for a couple of minutes to read a prayer for the day. I asked him if he would like to say his own prayer too. He did. His prayer brought tears to my eyes as it was the closest thing to God giving me a hug that I could get. God took the things that were getting me down and completely turned them on their heads.

It reminded me how much God wants to speak and encourage us in what we are doing, particularly when we find things plain hard work. In whatever we do, I think it's amazing that we believe in a God who knows us so well, He can speak into our hearts in a way that stops us dead in our tracks and demands our attention as He tells us He loves us and is with us. 

The prayer my son prayed? "Thank you Jesus for Mummy."

"I will" not "I would have done"...

The other day I came across the following poem which I thought followed on nicely from my last blog post. 

It'd be easy I think to read it and feel guilty about what we have failed to do today, or this week, with our children. But my intention is not to have us all wallowing in guilt. The reality of family life is that there are always jobs to be done and other things that need our attention: we cannot be super-mum all of the time, but we can, I believe, all be a super mum some of the time. And this poem when I read it encouraged me to live in the present, to enjoy my children and to take time for them to enjoy being with me. 

If I Had My Child to Raise Over Again

by Diane Loomans

If I had my child to raise all over again,
I'd build self esteem first, and the house later.
I'd fingerpaint more, and point the finger less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I'd take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more.
I'd take more hikes and fly more kites.
I'd stop playing serious, and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I'd do more hugging and less tugging.
I'd see the oak tree in the acorn more often.
I would be firm less often, and affirm much more.
I'd model less about the love of power,
And more about the power of love.

Instead of reading this poem in the past tense and living with regret, how much more powerful would it be, I wonder, if it were in the future tense; a statement of intent, not for every minute of every day because that would be unrealistic, but for snatched wonderful moments of each day.

"I was happier before I had a child."

 I read in a women's magazine this week (Grazia) an article entitled I was happier before I had a child.

The essence of the article was about what the author felt she'd had to give up in having her baby and the daily "tedious chores" and "constant demands" of a baby which give "no break" to the mother. She refers to "study after study [where] the gist is that our 'life satisfaction', 'marital satisfaction', and 'mental wellbeing' declines sharply after having children."

The author goes on to question why people feel unable to moan about motherhood: "Why, if you profess anything less than utter joy at being a mother, are you seen as a bad one?" Really? I would argue that most of my friends with young children are very realistic about the difficulties of motherhood; it is just that we try to balance it with the positives too. 

In contrast the author goes on to talk about how she reminisces about her "lovely life" before she had a baby: "our holidays, weekends, finances, social life, even our relationship were better before she came along." I have to say that this quote made me very sad. It kind of feels indicative of the society that we live in where everything is about "me, me, me." I am sure we all have days where we wish that things could be a bit different: more money, more time, less nappies, more sleep. But bringing children into the world should not, to my mind, be about our own personal fulfilment; it should not be another tick box item of 'things to do to make me feel happier / be a better person.' It is about love for another, responsibility, amazing joys and utter craziness. It cannot be contained in a neat little box and labelled quite as easily as the author of this article seems to want it to be.  

The author finishes by saying that she does not regret having her baby and knows that when her daughter is grown up, she will know "it was all worth it." I think it's a trap that we can all fall into in so many aspects of life where we look back on the past with a romantic view of the past. In the author's case, and sometimes in mine and my husband's too, when we reminisce about long lie-ins, late nights out and the freedom that comes with youth, we romanticise how things were.

The truth is, that having children means life cannot compare to how it was before, in any way at all. There are challenges and there are joys. But I think it is sad that this mother feels she will be able to say it was worth it when looking back on motherhood, rather than living in the moment as she faces the ups and downs that daily life brings. 

Whatever challenges I face as a mother, I want to remind myself to say (and believe me, it's not always easy) that it is worth it. I want to try and live in each moment, each day, each week of my childrens' lives and enjoy what God has given us as a family: not to compare my situation to other peoples' or to my life previously but to remember that, even when the going gets tough, it is worth it. 

Wobble Wobble

 ~ The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. Deuteronomy 33:27 ~

With a two year old who gives a running commentary of everything that happens in our day, the phrase of today has been "wobble wobble."

My youngest has been sitting up solo for the last couple of weeks, but so unsteadily that I have felt only able to encourage this new skill whilst I've been sitting behind ready to catch him when he falls. Today, for the first time, I decided that he was steady enough to sit on his own with only some cushions behind him to break his fall. As my eldest and I watched him sitting there all by himself, we alternated between giving him a clap for sitting alone, and saying "wobble wobble" as he teetered this way and that.

This afternoon we went for a walk with my son's new balance bike. Despite the fact that it was the first time he'd used it outside of our garden, and despite that the fact that he was very unsteady, he would not let me help at all and kept pushing my hand away whenever I tried to steady him. There was lots of "wobble wobble" as he was cycling along and I stopped counting how many times he fell over when it reached double figures! But despite my fears as he insisted on propelling himself down hills, I was also immensely proud that, despite the wobbles, he was persevering and eventually succeeding. 

Today at various points (as on many days) my heart has been in my mouth as I've watched my children explore and experiment doing things without my help. I've realised that I have to let them have their wobbles, or else they won't progress in life. 

I also think this is a really lovely image of how God is with us. As His children, He has to allow us to go and do things for ourselves and as we learn new things and walk new paths He can take a step back, watch us wobble and make mistakes; but always He is ready to catch us when we fall, to praise us when we succeed and to watch over us as we say "wobble wobble" before taking a deep breath and continuing on. 

Today has been a day of "wobble wobble", and all the positive and scary emotions that come with that. I still can't quite comprehend that all the feelings I feel for my children as a mum - the love, the pride, the nerves as they branch out solo - are feelings that God feels for me as His child.

And even more amazing is that God feels that way about my children too: when I am a bit too far away to stop their fall, or when my heart is in my mouth over their new adventures, God is always there, looking after them, waiting for me to trust them into His loving arms. 

It would have been okay if.....

On Saturday morning I had a lie-in and when I finally surfaced I heard hubby shouting to ask if I could run the bath as our youngest had a seriously leaking nappy! Oh the joys!

After the 'incident' had been cleaned up and I asked how their morning had been hubby commented "it would have been okay if he hadn't pooed"!

I decided that the phrase "it would have been okay if..." just about sums up parenting.

For me last week, the week would have been okay if the boys hadn't been ill with colds and therefore fairly grumpy and testing a lot of the time. Friday in particular would have been okay if my youngest had had a proper lunchtime nap rather than waking up after an hour tired and fed-up but unwilling to sleep again. The rest of the afternoon would have been ok if I'd had a chance to put my feet up over lunch time, rather than being grouchy that my 'me-time' had been interrupted. My eldest probably would have been okay in the afternoon if I'd not been really impatient with him because I was so fed-up. 

Eventually, "it would have been okay if..." became "it's really not okay" as 'one of those days' became 'two of those days' which eventually became 'one of those weeks'!

And one thing I realised reflecting on last week was that it would have been okay if I had stopped what I was doing and asked God to help me. Instead, I, for some reason, struggled on, getting more and more tired and more and more impatient. I didn't allow myself the time to stop and feel God's presence with me and didn't think to ask for his spirit to fill me and to help me in my situation. 

I sometimes find it easier to pray for the 'big' things where it is clear that God really needs to work by His power, but I often neglect to pray for the small things that I need God's help with on a daily basis. Last week I forgot that God is there for me in all the daily ups and downs of life. Last week may still have been difficult, but it also might have been a little more okay if I had stopped to pray to God. 

This whole thing reminds me of a beautiful hymn my Grandad used to sing, and this coming week I will be trying to remember its message. 

What a Friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear.
What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer.
O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.

Have we trials and temptations? Is there trouble anywhere?
We should never be discouraged; take it to the Lord in prayer.
Can we find a friend so faithful who will all our sorrows share?
Jesus knows our every weakness; take it to the Lord in prayer.

Are we weak and heavy laden, cumbered with a load of care?
Precious Savior, still our refuge, take it to the Lord in prayer.
Do your friends despise, forsake you? Take it to the Lord in prayer.
In His arms He’ll take and shield you; you will find a solace there.

It was only 10 pence...

Today we met a man. He was standing outside our local shop carrying a six-pack of lager, looking unkempt and unshaven. This man taught me a lesson which Jesus also taught his followers:

'whatever you do for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you also do for me.' (Matthew 25 v 40)

So often the emphasis of this verse is on what we are doing for others. I guess a lovely story would be about how I was able to help this man out in some way, then go on my way feeling good about myself, reminding myself 'I did it for Jesus'. Instead, I was on the receiving end of a blessing from him. Whether or not he was a Christian, I don't know, but I do know that he treated me in such a way as to remind me that as well as being called to be a disciple of Christ, I am also 'the least' and that God seeks to bless me through other people. 

What happened was very mundane: we needed 10 pence. It wasn't life or death, it was just that we wanted to buy a newspaper and we'd both come out without wallets so had managed to find the necessary £2 in various pushchair pockets and baskets. But, it turned out that £2 wasn't enough - we were 10 pence short and this gentleman looked on as we comically searched through the pockets of my eldest son's jacket just in case he'd squirrelled away some coins. We shared a joke with the gentleman that we might find a fortune in there and then I suggested to my husband that we'd just have to go home and get some more cash. 

At which point, the unkempt, unshaven man carrying a six-pack of lager dug deep in his pockets and asked us how much we were short, then offered me a whole fistful of change to choose from. 

It was only 10 pence, but in our society where everyone is so keen not to get involved in other peoples' problems or conversations, this incident really touched me. It made me feel guilty about the prejudices I carry around, where I feel that from a quick glance at someone, I am able to judge things about them; it made me realise that I need to be more like that man - willing to help in whatever small way I can; and it made me realise that I need to be more willing to accept the kindness of strangers - let them treat me as a brother or sister of Jesus without them expecting anything in return.

It was only 10 pence, but it was worth so much more. 

Blessings

I have spent most of the weekend lying in bed recovering from a virus. I was devastated to have to miss the reception of our friends' wedding on Saturday and to miss the fun of a full house yesterday with my hubby and boys, and a house full of grandparents, in-laws, and nieces / nephews. 

However, as I lay in bed, grumpy and fed-up, listening to all the fun that was going on in our garden, I suddenly felt an unbelievable sense of being very blessed: blessed by my amazing parents and parents-in-law who are so wonderful looking after my boys, and by a family who all have so much fun together and are willing to give so much support to each other.

Most of all, I realised what a joy my children are and how I don't stop to notice this enough. It's easier with my youngest son as he stays still for long enough for me to just enjoy him! With my eldest though, I realised that during a normal day I am so focused on running the house, getting us out of the door for toddler groups, cooking meals, changing nappies, dealing with tantrums (the list could go on) that I don't spend enough time looking at him, marvelling at the little boy he is becoming and noticing the lovely little things about his personality.

Yesterday, with all the normal jobs and routines of childcare taken over by other family members I was able to just listen to him chatting away, playing games with his cousins or watch him out of the window digging up soil. I was able to fully enjoy him being him without the normal ups and downs of daily life that I usually have to contend with as well. 

John 1 v 16 states "from the fullness of His grace, we have received one blessing after another." Yesterday I was able to pause and reflect on some of the blessings God has given me. My prayer for the coming week is that I will continue to find time to do that and to thank God for all that He gives me. 

I pray that you too, whatever your circumstance, will find some time in the coming days to realise the ways that God has blessed you through your families, your friends and your children; that through the ups and downs of a normal week, you will experience more of God's grace and more of His blessings being heaped upon you. 

Second child

When my eldest was born my Mum gave me a lovely book entitled 'Meditations for New Mothers' by Beth Wilson Saavedra and when I was flicking through it the other day, I came across this quotation from Amy D'Agrosa:

I eagerly counted each of my first child's milestones. With my second, all I want to do is hold him like a baby.

It really struck a chord with me as my littlest was 5 months old yesterday and I almost feel that he is growing up too quickly. 

With my first I was looking forward to the time when he could enjoy being on his tummy and then when he had mastered that, I couldn't wait for him to sit up because I thought it would make both our lives more fun. When he'd been sitting for a while I started to hope that he would crawl soon. And so on. 

I enjoyed each moment but enjoyed it as a step to the next achievement. This time around however, because I know that each phase is so short-lived and because I look at my eldest and wonder where the time has gone, I am truly relishing each moment of my little one's babyhood. During the night feeds in the early days I would enjoy just being with him in mutual sleepiness, knowing that the time would soon pass when he'd need me to get through the night; when he gurgles away to himself I am not wondering what his first word will be and when. That's not to say I don't delight in the new little things he is learning day by day; only that I am not eagerly anticipating the next phase because I know that it will come soon enough, so I can just enjoy him for who he is and what he is doing at this moment in time. 

This got me thinking about my relationship with God as Father and I really hope that he views me like the second child the quotation above refers to. I am sure that he wants for me to do more, to achieve my potential and that he encourages me to do so. But I am also certain in His love for me regardless of what I do or fail to do. 

When I cuddle my baby boy and am overwhelmed with love for him, I am also awed by the fact that God loves me in exactly the same way, only more so. God is encouraging me for the future to become the person he fully desires me to be, but He also loves me in the moment, for who I am now, and just wants to draw me closer to him.

To the River

After settling my eldest in crèche this morning I walked back into church during the end of the second verse and the chorus of this song:

I am going to the river,
Lord I need to meet you there.
Precious Jesus, I am ready
to surrender every care.
Take my hand now, lead me closer,
Lord I need to meet you there.


Something about the simple but concrete image of the river really spoke to me; we can all, wherever we are, whatever we are doing, take Jesus' hand and go with him to the river.

I pray the words of this song might speak to you as they spoke to me.

Farewell Facebook!

As we drove off the ferry at Dover yesterday after 10 wonderful days holidaying in France, I turned on my phone and did three things: checked text messages, listened to voicemail, and then clicked on the Facebook app.

Only two hours previously I'd been chatting to hubby about how lovely it was to have such a fabulous time, uninterrupted by modern social media. But then as soon as it was available, I just couldn't resist.

The thing is, after 10 days without Facebook (which I didn't miss at all) I realised that there are things about it which I am really starting to question in terms of how I use my time and the values I want to impart to my children. I will often go on the internet for '5 minutes' when the boys go down for their lunchtime nap and still be there an hour and a half later, having given myself just enough time to sort the house out before they wake up, and having no time to relax (I do not count being at the computer as relaxing!). When my children are older I will make sure that there are limits to the amount of time they spend on the computer so I also need to start limiting myself, and Facebook has become, for me, too time consuming.

I am also aware that by the time my boys are ready to have a mobile phone, all phones will have internet access and the levels of control I have over what my children can access will be far less than it has been in recent years. So if I'm not going to be able to ban phone use, I at least need to be setting a good example about how I use my phone. Being on the Facebook app while my eldest is in the bath is not, I have decided, a good example!

And then there is the tendency many of us have on Facebook to present an unrealistically positive view of life. I know that I do this, and I know from talking to friends that many of them do to. Why share with 200 Facebook 'friends' when something is not working out, or the fact that you've had a rubbish day and yelled at the kids, or why post an unflattering photo of yourself when you could choose one that makes you look like everything a yummy mummy should?!

 I have decided that I don't want to live lovely moments to then think how I can work it into a status update or take a photograph of my children looking adorable and then head straight for a computer to upload it. I don't want my children thinking that something is only valid if it's shared with everyone through Facebook, or telling someone thank you or that you love them only counts if you say it via a Facebook update.

Facebook has it's good points too and it has made it easy to keep in touch with genuine friends where otherwise life and its business would mean we may not be in such regular contact; or where friends live such a distance away, it's been the only way of us knowing what each others' children look like. And those are the aspects I will miss when I sign off.

Instead of whiling away hours finding out what people who I've not seen for 10 years are doing and looking through photos of their children who I will never meet, I will try to concentrate my time on communicating better with the people I truly care about. It doesn't matter that the rest of the world won't be in on it when I thank a friend for a lovely night out or tell my husband that I love him, or email a few photos of the boys to people who I know genuinely care about receiving them. 

Instead of enjoying a moment and then thinking about how I can write it into a status update, I will try to simply just enjoy the moment. And when I look through my holiday photos I will enjoy them for what they are and the memories they bring back for me, rather than worrying about whether or not to add them to my Facebook profile. 

Facebook has been fun, but for me, it's time to say farewell.

A weed bouquet makes it all worthwhile!

This time two years ago, my eldest son was two weeks old and I was learning how to be a mum. Two years on and I am still learning! It's been an amazing, emotional and incredibly fun two years, but there are days when I still feel as if I don't know really what I am doing! Just when I think we are into a routine, something changes; or just when one hurdle has been jumped over, another one presents itself. 

With the arrival of our second child four months ago, I felt a lot more able to cope with the changes to family life, mainly because I knew that everything was just a phase. Hour long feeds? They'll only take that long for the first few weeks. Constant night waking? It passes. Screaming til he's blue in the face at bath time? He will soon learn to love it.

And I was right; but it doesn't change the fact that there are always new things to deal with (potty training anyone?!) and new things to teach our little ones. As they are constantly learning, so are we. I came across a brilliant quote from Robert Brault: The trouble with learning to parent on the job is that your child is the teacher. A lovely idea, and great in theory, but in practice children are not always very clear in what they are trying to teach! 

One of the things I have struggled with most about motherhood is the lack of feedback and praise (yes I realise that I shouldn't need to hear other people telling me I'm doing a good job, but I do!) In previous jobs, I have undergone assessments, received feedback, attended appraisals and been in receipt of bonuses for good performance. Now the people in the best position to offer me appraisals of my work as a mum are my kids. And if we are having a bad day, their feedback can be pretty brutal and not particularly constructive (as can be my responses too)!

I've still not found a solution and guess that for as long as I'm a stay-at-home mum I'll find it hard not receiving affirmation from other adults (hubby aside!) but what I am trying to do is focus on the little lovely things each day that my children do which, when I think about it, show me that I'm doing ok. 

I love the following little poem which just about sums it up:

A rose can say "I love you",

orchids can enthrall,

but a weed bouquet in a chubby fist,

yes, that says it all. 

~ Author unkown

That's not to say an annual bonus wouldn't be nice though!

Shouting!

When I was undergoing teacher training I was told that shouting as a form of discipline is generally ineffective and that whispering was a far more effective way to control the class. Shout, and you add another loud voice to a room full of thirty clamouring teenagers; whisper and everyone suddenly quietens down to hear what you're saying.Initially sceptical, I realised within a few weeks that my voice was the best tool I had in the classroom and that whispering did indeed calm things down more effectively than shouting. And so throughout my teaching career I very rarely needed to raise my voice.


Fast forward a few years and I decided that the same techniques would work with parenting too. How naive! Not that it doesn't work with one's own children: I still believe it does and still find that when I speak calmly to my toddler he responds far better and situations are diffused much more quickly. No, naive because I was totally ignorant of the fact that one's own children have an uncanny ability to get under one's skin; that they push buttons until all the calm and whispering has been squashed inside of us and the only release is a big ranting shout!


After a particularly shouty morning this week (all before we'd even sat down to breakfast) I felt unbelievably guilty and vowed to try and revert back to the calm conversations of my previous life. Cue an unruly toddler this afternoon, and it all goes out of the window. He shouts, then shouts again, and again and again. I shout. He shouts some more. I shout. I leave the room. He cries (I'm not proud of this by the way!). But the next bit is the thing that I am trying to work on. I go to him, cuddle him and say sorry for shouting. He says sorry too. We cuddle some more, then he drags me off to show me his car. Incident forgotten.


I would love to be able to say I'm not going to shout at my children. But that would be a lie. The truth is that I will try to not shout at my children; but know that I will fail. The truth is also that I will make a point of saying sorry when I do shout. I will introduce them to the idea of sorry and forgiveness. And as I know that I am forgiven by God after each 'sorry' I pray that they will grow up knowing they are too. And that we will all learn to try again with a clean slate.


And I also pray for just a little bit more whispering!

'I was Dad for a day' article in the Guardian

I came across this article (click on the link above) in the Guardian yesterday and thought the last section summed up really succinctly the change in our lives when we become parents. I love the fact that the mother just gets up to put her child back to bed without even thinking about it and think it's a great example of how we do so many things on a daily basis which we don't even think about any more. One comment slightly jarred with me though:

"All your life up til that point [when you have children] you're self-focused, you're the centre of the picture....When you have kids you stop being the picture: you become the frame."

While I agree that you can't be self-focused when you have children, I can't believe that we as parents should simply let our children take centre stage.If everything about family life is designed to put children first and to develop them to become the best they can be (as so much middle-class parenting seems to be about these days, with the endless clubs, lessons, and activities), how will children ever learn that other people have needs too? And how much pressure will they feel if they think that their parents' lives have been put on hold to bring them up?

Instead of the idea of children as a picture and parents as a frame, I'd like to think of my family life as one enormous canvas where we all splatter paint on, rub things out, start again; a picture that we all create and recreate together each day. Much less pressure for us as parents, and much more fun for our kids too!

If Jesus lived in London....

At the risk of jumping on the London Riots bandwagon, I have been thinking a lot about this recently. It seems that so many people were very quick to judge those who were looting and rioting, but there were very few who were willing to try and view things from a different perspective. 

In my previous life I taught at an inner-city secondary school and can well imagine that some of my ex-pupils will have been among the rioters. During my time teaching my heart would break for these young people who had never experienced someone to love them, to offer guidance and to instill respect in them. Many of these pupils did not have parental role models or people who could show them love and respect. How then are they to love and respect themselves, let alone other people in society?

I do not want to make excuses for the individuals who instigated or were drawn into the riots.What they did was illegal, dangerous and totally disrespectful of other people and property. However, I do want to try and view them from God's perspective:  they are His children, created by Him, loved by Him, able to be restored by Him. 

I feel sure that the same Jesus who said: "let the little children come unto me" (Matthew 19.14) would also draw these young people to himself and show them a better way. 

Unfortunately, Jesus does not live in London, so it falls to us instead to follow his example! As a mother, I pray that God gives me the grace, love and patience that I need to bring up my children to follow His path. I also pray for those children and young people who do not know what it means to be loved and guided by a parent: that they may come to know the Jesus who wants to draw them close. 

Christian Mummy - the History.

About three months ago I was sitting in church on a Sunday morning attempting to listen to the preacher (who happened to be my husband) whilst breastfeeding a newborn and balancing a toddler on my lap at the same time. Suddenly I became aware that everyone was gradually making their way to the front of church with post-it notes in hand and placing them all on a large board. 

I, meanwhile, sat there silently crying because firstly, I was unable to move anywhere, and secondly, even if I had been able to, I didn't know what everyone was responding to as I'd not heard a word of what had been said. All I could do was let the tears fall and pray quietly that God would help me to connect with Him despite the feeding, cuddling and general entertaining of my children that is required on a Sunday morning. (My husband is a curate so is always upfront during services!)

It turned out that my prayer was exactly in line with what everyone else had been responding to: thinking of ways to connect with God. In answer to my prayer, I felt (yet again) God prompting me to start this Blog as a way of exploring how being a Christian can help me be a better Mummy and how being a Mummy can teach me new things about God.

I first had the Blog idea around the time of my eldest's first birthday but being in the early stages of pregnancy, then the late stages of pregnancy, then having a newborn baby to get to know, has meant that I've been putting things off for a while!

So a whole year later (and three months after that moment in church) I finally find time to sit down at the keyboard to write! I don't feel particularly qualified to write a Blog entitled 'Christian Mummy' because there are days when I feel that I don't do either very well. But I guess the point is that I am learning all the time and this is my attempt to connect personally with God through where I am in my life at the moment. My prayer is that He might just use my feelings and experiences to speak to other Mums too.