Beltway Women

  Before ever having children, I had big, perfect ideas of what kind of child I would have and what kind of parent I would be. I very much remember my self-righteous attitude as I judged other parents and their misbehaved children. Oh, how I have eaten some words and repented!! When I was blessed twelve years ago with a bouncing baby boy, all of those ideas flew right out the window.   You see, that perfect little bouncing baby has not stopped bouncing. His fun, adventurous and strong-willed personality did not fit into my expectations of parenting. When he hit the toddler years his busyness increased. I was constantly on guard to protect him from his curiosity. I also was deeply embarrassed in social situations because I, in no way, had a hold on this parenting thing. I felt like a failure. This was not how it was supposed to be. Every defiant action from this little person made me defensive and frustrated. I remember crying out to the Lord and asking Him “why is this sooooo

The Lord has been teaching me lately about His peace.   For years I have prayed for our home to be a place of peace.   I want a friend or stranger to enter our home and know that the Lord is here.   I want my home to ooze with peace. In reality, this has been one of the biggest battles we have faced in our home, and in my own spirit, emotions and actions.   When 6 different people with 6 different perspectives, and 6 different expressions of emotions and expectations live under one roof, chaos can easily gain a foothold.   In addition to that challenge, I had 4 children in just under 7 years and didn’t realize that I was experiencing post-partum anxiety causing anger. Two years ago at Released Retreat the Lord worked in my heart so specifically.   I cried out for change in my home.   My anger had transferred to my children’s responses to life.   Many days were the absolute opposite of peace. With that trend of anger also came fear. I came to the Lord asking specifically to help m

  When I close my eyes, I can still see the little house I lived in on a street in Long Beach, California when I was about 5 years old.  My sister and I shared a little bitty bedroom with a window that faced the street.  We didn’t have much, but we did have two parents that loved us and worked hard to provide what we needed.  Early in the mornings, my mom would sneak in quietly and give us a kiss before she left for work.  We called those kisses “lip service.”  I remember feeling comforted as she came in, while I was still asleep, to reassure me that she loved me before the day got started. One morning I was lying in my bed and I heard her car door close outside on the street.  She must have been running late that day because she didn’t come in for my daily lip service.  I shot up and looked at the window to see her starting the car.  In a hot panic I flew out of my bed and ran out the front door.  All I could think of was getting that kiss before my mom drove off!  She saw me