Treasures from a nature walk -- some you see and some you can't

I believe everyone goes through it every once in a while.  The past few days, it's been me.

I've been in a bit of a funk.

It's weird. Nothing is 'wrong'. Most things are, well--right, actually. I feel close to the Lord, to my kids and my husband, we have everything we could possibly need, we are healthy...the list could go on.

{his "hugest" leaf--an oak}

I couldn't put my finger on what was up, but Wednesday night in my ladies Bible study, Beth Moore smacked me upside the head with it. (High five if you LOVE that woman too.)

Even if you are not a Christian, stick with me here for a moment.

{seeds from a sweet gum tree--referred to by E as "spiky bombs"}

I am doing the study of Esther, and we were discussing how Esther's circumstances of being an orphan had radically affected her life. Beth had done an internet survey, inviting women of all walks of life to talk about some of their situations, and she was reading one of the ladies' survey questions aloud.

One of them went something like this: I feel like the jobs I am doing every day at home as a wife/mother don't matter--and at the same time, I feel guilty for wishing for significance, recognition, and importance.

{the maple tree seeds--he intends to plant his own tree}

Beth talked about the things that that mother probably did daily: wiped snot, cleaned up toys or throw up or toys or dirty dishes or toys, broke up arguments, fed others numerous meals (oh, and cleaned up after each one, too) and got up sometimes countless times a night to deal with who-knows-what. Things that don't seem at all like they make a difference--let alone are glamorous.

{the entire haul from his bucket}

Until, one day, tragedy strikes; and, out of the blue--that mother is gone.

Boy, are those 'insignificant' things that she did awfully noticeable now, once she is not there to do them on a daily basis.

{beautiful huge acorns}

That hit me so hard, but not in the way you might think. I realized not that I am searching for something more glamorous, or important, or significant, but that I am not seeing the joy and significance already present in my everyday life. I am not seeing what I do as purposeful in anyone's eyes--and I'm missing opportunities because of it.  She was able to phrase things in such a way to bring me around to seeing what the problem was.

I get up. I feed them. I clean up. I eat (maybe). I do chores. I play with them. I clean up again. I feed them again. I read to them. I work while they sleep. I help with homework. I feed them again. I clean up again. I clean them up. I read to them. I tuck them in. I go to sleep.

{ooooh-ing and aaaaahhh-ing over the spiky bombs}

Then, I do it all over again the next day. And the next. And the next.

Can you relate?

But here's the deeper reality:  I've cared for every single need they have ever had since the day they were born.

And, to find true joy, I need to choose to stop looking at these things as chores--and start viewing the mundane as the biggest things anyone will ever do for them in this life. Ever.

Being everything to them for now, while pointing them to the True Everything who will take their lives and do with it only what a loving, all-knowing, all-gracious God can.

{"I love these ones, Mommy....}

Seeing the little things as opportunities.

Like when your child says "I want to give some of my acorns back to the squirrels, Mommy....so they won't be hungry."


An opportunity to discuss loving others; giving; unselfishness; putting others before yourself; kindness.

Or when he asks you before putting each leaf into his bucket "Do you think this is a good one Mommy?" You say "Yes" over and over and watch him put the leaves in the bucket; then decide to test him on one by saying, "No...." and you watch as he puts it back on the ground.

An opportunity to realize just how much your opinion of things really means to him.

We had a wonderful walk together and made wonderful memories. 

I will treasure our day yesterday forever.

And now, I'm off to go find something amazing in my day. It'll be there. Guaranteed.

An interesting breakfast

Cameron and Ethan ate Chicken Cordon Bleu and broccoli for breakfast this morning.

I served it for dinner last night. It was, by all accounts, very delish. Shane and Colin and I all loved it.

But it 'looked weird'.

Ethan is not a great eater to begin with and has had his issues with eating, so I have always given him a pass when he doesn't want to eat something I serve for dinner. He is excused from the table and doesn't get any food for the rest of the night.

Cameron, on the other hand, is normally a great eater, and usually doesn't give me any trouble at mealtime. And I serve a lot of different foods--we eat a large variety of things. We are not your meat and potatoes, meat and potatoes, meat and potatoes family.

Most of the time, the boys all eat very well. And, on the times that they don't, I have always chalked it up to the fact that not every body likes every thing.

But lately, I've had some trouble with feelings of ungratefulness around here. And it is really bothering me.

• Having a million toys (waaaaaaaaaaay too many, in my opinion) and "nothing to do."
• Being able to go outside for the first time in months, yet being 'bored' after only a few minutes.
  
• Me suggesting something to eat or do, only to have it met in return with a "but I want...." fill-in-the-blank with something other than what I have suggested.
• Getting to do something they've been wanting or begging to do, and then wanting to do something else after only a few minutes.

*sigh*

I think that's why I blew last night when the boys didn't want to eat their dinner, simply because it 'seemed' yucky.

Only in America do we have the abundance to be able to pass over foods simply because they are not pleasing to our eyes or our taste buds.

We have so much, when others have so little.

And most of the time, we don't even realize it.

Even with my adult understanding, I'm sure I don't even fully grasp it. I don't realize how good I actually have it.

And now, I am paying the price of that callousness: my boys don't "get" gratefulness, in part, because I have not modeled grateful behavior.

I remember a time, not so very many months ago, when we didn't have a lot of income coming in. We were eating very, very simple meals for dinner....eggs, bean quesadillas, grilled cheeses.

And yet, I can't remember a time when I have ever been so grateful just to have enough money for that week to be able to grocery shop and put any kind of food on the table at all. We would spend several minutes in prayer before eating, thanking God for providing for us for this meal, and asking Him to continue to provide for us for the next one.

And now? We may have two or even three different choices on our plates. Elaborate and delicious meals, sometimes requiring lots of ingredients. Many nights, we have dessert.

And we don't even think twice about how good we now have it.

We still pray and thank God for our food. But it doesn't come from the same place of deep gratitude as those prayers once did, when we had so much less.

Why are we like that?

Easy. Human nature. Sin. I understand that. But I don't like it when it rears it's ugly head in my children, much less in me.

I feel lately like I want to send every bit of food we have over to hungry children, and then feed my children what they would eat in a third world country. I don't even think it would take a week for them to really see how good they have it. Maybe one or two meals of next to nothing, at the most.

By the way--you don't even have to go very far to find hungry children. We have them right here in America.

They are here. They are everywhere.

And, yet, we are unsatisfied.

It came to me last night.

"We are not wasting food any more. Not a bit of it. If you boys don't eat this food for dinner tonight, I am serving it to you for breakfast. I am going to serve it to you until you eat it."

They looked at me like I was crazy. They were astonished.

I meant what I said. Every word of it.

Let me be clear here. This food was not sitting on their plates because they had eaten and were full. It was sitting on their plates simply because it was not what they wanted. Had I served them pizza or chicken nuggets or dessert--all basically junk, mind you--they would have scarfed it down.

But they didn't care for the looks of this dinner.

So, so sad. It makes me ashamed.

And, yet, I know for certain that I am not the only mother who deals with this. There was just a great discussion on Facebook about this very subject the other day. It is, in fact, where I got the idea to serve them the food they refused at dinner for breakfast the next morning.

So, I did it.

It was hard. I felt really, really terrible. I almost caved--I thought about just letting them eat it for lunch, instead. I mean, really: broccoli for breakfast?

*shudder*

But I knew that that would have less of an impact. I knew they would wake up hungry--and they would want my zucchini bread or a bowl or two of yummy (read: sugary--and I buy the good-for-you stuff. It's still full of sugar.) cereal.

Instead they got broccoli. And chicken.

They were not pleased. There were tears involved.

And I felt like a jerk. The world's meanest, most terrible mother.

But, sometimes, as a parent, you have to be the bad guy, and I believe that that is what many of today's parents miss--they are trying to be their children's friend rather than their parent. Being a parent means sometimes being unpopular with your children....and boy, was I unpopular this morning. But I wanted desperately to show them the importance of being thankful for what you have, rather than always being consumed with what you want. Despite how difficult it was to actually go through with the actual 'lesson', I made it.

And you know what?

They sure raved tonight over how good dinner was. Cameron complimented me several times, even going as far as saying that "This is the best meal, Mommy, the best!" *grin* They actually thanked me for making it. And they cleaned their plates. All three of them. We had a near episode with Ethan--he got down from the table after eating only a few bites--but when I showed him how I was preparing his plate to be able to reheat it in the morning for him to have for breakfast, he had a change of heart and climbed back up in his chair to finish.

Am I being too harsh?

I really don't think so. How many times have I scraped food off of plates and into the garbage? How much money is going down the drain? How much effort is being wasted on my part, trying to come up with, shop for, and prepare nutritious and flavorful meals--only to be rejected on sight alone? Shane works very hard for our money, and I, in turn, work hard, trying to find every way possible to stretch his dollars as far as they can go.

Food isn't cheap. And I'm sick of wasting it.

Especially when there are so many people who are going without it entirely.

So, we have a new 'rule' around here. I believe I will only have to enforce it every once in a while--this first time seemed to have a real impact.

Even on Colin--who only had to watch his brothers consume plates of broccoli and chicken--over his bowl of much coveted cold cereal.