Tag Archives: Children

Manhood to Mission Field

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I struggle with being a mom, not with the fact that I am one, but with the reality of doing motherhood. Yes, I clean bottoms, feed bellies, entice minds with books, bible studies and verses. I run. I jump. I sing. I pray. Lord knows I pray. I have to. You, mothers, know what I’m talking about. But sometimes my motherhood rhythm is off and throws off my daily dance. Shoot, on some days I don’t even want to find the rhythm because then I’m forced to dance. I had a day like this on my blogging break in July. Now God can speak any time, I know this, but I think my not being focused on blogging helped me to hear God clearer, differently even from before, about why He gave me children. Continue reading →

Snapshot Moment

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My Three Sons

I had a snapshot moment with my two youngest. They had a synchronized meltdown, crying in unison and both clamoring for mama’s love. After I changed the toddler’s training pants and then the baby’s diaper, I wiped the waterfalls from their faces and let them lay in bed with me. The baby nursed on my right while the toddler caressed my left. That was yesterday. Today was almost a snap back moment when all three wanted something from me: The firstborn wanted permission to play a game; the toddler wanted cereal; and the baby just wanted me. I was only gone for three hours, a needful leave to get my teeth cleaned and some groceries, something my husband usually does, but he was sick. And he was with them when I was gone for three hours, but not all the way with them because he was sick. I had a muffin this morning. I resisted overspending because I was hungry and looked forward to eating when I got home. But with three needy children demanding me upon arrival and a sick spent husband, food for me had to wait a little bit, and I almost said, “Oooo, dese kids,” but I remembered my poem with that line and decided to shut my mouth, suck up my plans and meditate on being a Carrier of Life.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

Free to Love

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Henry's Freedom Box by Ellen Levine

Today I write about not who I thought I would but about Henry “Box” Brown, one of the most famous runaway slaves of the Underground Railroad because he mailed himself to freedom. Henry has been on my mind because of a statement an old acquaintance made when she found out I was a stay at home mom. Referring to her brief time off with her child, she said, “I was bored. I didn’t know what to do.” I told her that I had heard that before. With others the statement had been apologetic as if the women were sorry they didn’t have the stamina to hold their post at home. But there were no apologies with this woman. With a raised eyebrow, the squint of the opposite eye, and the slow shake of her head, she said, “Go ahead. I couldn’t do it.” Then I thought about Henry and his mom and how they would have loved to be in this woman’s place.

As a boy in the early 1800s, Henry’s master took him from his mother and gave Henry to work as a slave for his son. Henry eventually married and had children, who all were sold away from him. His heart ached for his loved ones but he realized he wouldn’t see them anymore. With the help of friends, including a white abolitionist, Henry decided to ship himself to freedom. He got into a box and mailed himself from Virginia to Pennsylvania. In 1849 he was free from slavery but neither he nor his mom was free to be with their children, something they longed to do. Now I’m sure if my acquaintance had her children stolen from her, her heart would ache and she would fight to get them back, but her attitude conveyed an unwillingness to care for her them in a hard place. And I imagine there are few harder places to care for children than in slavery.

Joshua, 7, has a mouth that moves more than his busy body. And Nathaniel, 2, grabs and seeks to destroy everything in his sight. And Justus, 3 months, needs me for everything. Yes, my children are a challenge, but I’m so glad I can hold them, be around to scold them and to pour into them my values most of the day. Henry didn’t have that. Neither did his mom or wife or thousands of other enslaved Africans. Henry is my hero and so are the other men and women whose families were torn apart but they didn’t fall apart completely. They kept on because they chose to. And we get tripped up over some crying, demanding children who God has granted us favor to have. They weren’t sold or swindled from us like some Haitian children whose parents believed would have a better life if they gave them over to an agency that promised that. I hope we reassess our attitude toward being with our children and are grateful for the privilege to care for them, even in the hard places.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

The Actions of Babes

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If you pay close attention to children, you can see some spiritual lessons at work. This happened the other day when I was helping my 2-year-old son Nathaniel take off his shirt. I was pulling it up to pull it off, but right when I got to the bridge of his nose, he began to panic. Apparently I wasn’t going fast enough for him so to counter his anxiety he began to pull the shirt down to keep it on. I had to tell him—scream almost so he could hear me above his cries, to let me take his shirt off my way, for him to take his hands off, so that he would be okay and that we would meet the goal of his shirt coming off.

Seeing Nathaniel at work against me made me think of how we often do with God. We ask for His help, and though we may see progress, we begin to panic because we are not meeting our goal as fast as we think we should. We get involved, working against what God is trying to do and end up doing opposite of what He intends to do, working against God and our goal.

I encourage you today: Let God be God and let Him work for you the way He wants to. Remember, when we get our grubby hands involved there will definitely be a mess (Isaiah 64:6). But when God is at work, we have perfection, and when we trust Him to do what He does, He will keep us safe and we will reach our goal (Psalm 18:30).

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

Freedom in Christ

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There has been a lot talk about freedom this week. From rescuing Haitians from the ravages of their country to examining the words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., freedom rings in my ears. Even though this freedom talk has been on a global scale, I haven’t been able to keep from thinking about what freedom means to me personally.

On Sunday, I couldn’t go to church. Joshua was sick. He had a cold and a hacking cough so we were homebound, keeping the church free of his germs. I was disappointed. I love my children and would do whatever I can to give them proper care, but this morning I wondered if my mothering had taken its toll, yet again.

I remember the poem I wrote and can now see that my focus has been on my strength instead of God’s strength to mother, and I realize this is so much larger than my failure to mother God’s way, but it is a failure to follow the freedom of Christ.

This is real freedom, when you lose your will and way and follow that of Jesus Christ. I once thought I was free when I was a rebel, saying and doing what I wanted with little regard to how others felt. I had loosed the will and ways others, but found I was lonely with this behavior. With friends not as daring, I was often alone with my maverick ways. Then I got older, and I realized that my choices of freedom always impacted someone else’s choices of freedom, often limiting them. Freedom has its limits. But if freedom has its limits, is freedom what it is designed to mean? Can there truly be self-determination, lack of restrictions, autonomy, or sovereignty when what we do and say restrict others, even ourselves?

    It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery (Galatians 5:1).

With the freedom of Christ, we are no longer obligated to develop processes and strategies but are free to follow in the path set before us. Walking outside of the freedom of Christ throws us back to the bondage of slavery—being a slave to ourselves and others, working hard against man’s intrinsic selfishness and rebellion that challenge our “freedom.” Freedom in Christ allows us the privilege of Jesus fighting for us when people come against our choice to serve Him (Romans 8:31).

Though I wonder if the definition of freedom needs to be altered the way we many times use it, I know that the freedom that Christ offers is unchanging. Our challenge—my challenge—is to give up our way to freedom and allow the freedom of Jesus Christ to have its way. Then and only then can we truly be free.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith