A Quiver Of Arrows | Part 2

I sit in a hospital waiting room while my mother is having shoulder surgery. I watch a woman take a picture of herself eating a sub so that she can send it to her brother. They usually eat subs together while their parents are having surgery. Today it is her husband that is having a procedure. Her heart wishes her brother was there.

I see a father come in the room bringing a birthday gift for his daughter, an OR nurse. I am caught more by the way that he beams than I am by his thought or gift. What a blessing it is to be loved. To have someone to love. ... and to miss.

I laugh about the morning. I sat by my mother's bed after she had received a nerve block. She could not feel her entire arm. I take advantage of the situation and use her arm to wave at people in the hallway, then to scratch herself maybe even to flick me off and pick her nose. For a combination of reasons, she is defenseless and can't jerk away from my attacks. I am tickled. She is too, even if she is annoyed. I do the little piggies on her fingers.  I repeat another version that I've heard from my husband's great aunt. I know that this is becoming another story that will be retold.

...heritage.

I think of my last post about arrows. -About children. I've edited it a dozen times since it's been published. At first because I only spoke of wrongs I do as a mother. You may not know that I laughed as I wrote about the early years of parenting. I should have included my usual "haha" at the end of each paragraph. Then you'd know I wasn't taking myself too seriously. I've practically been obsessed with what I might need to do to fix the story. Something just felt off. ...it had such potential to be beautiful.

This morning I realize that it's not what I need to go back and correct. Mistakes are part of parenthood. It's the addition that still awaits us. There is more to say.

The first two lines of my verse (Psalm 127:3-5) are: Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.

The generations of lives, I've watched touch each other in the hospital just this morning, reflect family, lineage, ...heritage. Coming from somewhere and belonging to someone. A knowing that no matter what two are better than one. (Ecclesiastes 4:9-12)

How much my children make my heart burst open to the realization that I can love MORE. It outgrows my heart and becomes a giving of the soul and spirit. Not just at birth. Not just in a sleepy-eyed snuggle in the morning. Not just in witnessing them in their rarest and purest form(s). I love them more than I ever thought that I could love anyone or anything. But not just that-

Charles Dickens said “It is no small thing, when they, who are so fresh from God, love us. ”

Because they are fresh from God, they are not yet polluted with smut of the world, or stale words or false intentions. It's always sincere. Pure. Unconditional. Hopeful. Not waiting for an answer. Seeing their love reminds me of how much we (adults) confuse and misshape the gifts that we give others.  Their simplicity makes me realize that I can love others more and differently as well. Not only in my future path but those I am alongside or have left behind.

They a curious about life. Honest about what they see and still able to dream without hindrance. They forgive easily because they desire us more than the grudge or any thing.

They truly are a reward. Not because we deserve it, earned it or won it. Not even because we are (what you and I might deem) "worth it". They each are a blessing and a gift. ...because he first loved us. (1 John 4:19)

Click here to read Part 1

A Quiver Of Arrows | Part 1

My sister in law is expecting her first child soon. At her shower there was a neat activity using round gift tags (the kind with ribbons attached). Each person at the party would write a message on a tag (string side down). Then you arrange and mount each to the same piece of paper so that it looks like a bouquet of balloons. Of course, I wrote several of them. What kind of aunt would I be to only write one???  On one, I referenced the scripture Psalm 127: 3-5.

³ Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,

    the fruit of the womb a reward.

⁴ Like arrows in the hand of a warrior

    are the children of one’s youth.

⁵ Blessed is the man

who fills his quiver with them!

He shall not be put to shame

when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.

When I was asked about the verse, I read it. I wish that I could’ve been able to explain what that verse has come to mean to me on such a tiny little card.  Even when prompted, I couldn’t seem to muster up the words.

I will never forget coming home from the hospital with Ethan. I would just hold him and stare at him and cry. I was so moved just by looking at such a tiny and perfect incredible little being. I had never felt anything else in my life that could compare to that “gush of wonderfulness”.

Before birth, I was the one who wanted a child although I was afraid that I would have no idea what to do with a baby once ‘it’ got here. How much my position changed after his arrival! It wasn’t about me ‘getting’ a child. It was the humble and honorable experience of being ‘given’ a child. How or why would God give me such and incredible gift? How could he know that I would be so trustworthy? What had I ever done with my life to deserve that? …Tears and tears for this sweet, sweet little blessing.

Of course I felt that way again, when his sister and brother were born. –But as the first, he has been such a pioneer in his role as a child. Bless his heart for how much work he has to do and how much Ethan has had to suffer while shaping me into a parent. 

Like with the fact that he had acid reflux for the first year of his life and I simply didn’t know until his sister arrived and received her own diagnosis.  Of course, he was over it by then but he just had to tough the whole thing out. Then he had to wait for me to learn things like; which diaper rash creams burn the worst, when not to make a child ‘cry it out’ at bedtime and that after a long day with someone else, even an infant sometimes needs an hour to unwind when arriving home.

Hopefully, his role as a child hasn’t just made me a better parent but also a better woman. It wasn’t until he arrived that I committed to church because I didn’t know how I could help him love God and church, if we weren’t in it together.

It’s wasn’t until he was much older when some of his worst flares of temper and displays of attitude, reflected what he had seen from me. How quickly, I was convicted of my own behavior. How they speak so many layers to us when we open up our hearts to God and allow children to teach us.

It amazes me how much each of them reflect so many different things about me. Not just in temperament but in goofiness, in love, in sense of humor, etc. What a gauge to have in your presence every day! Yet, they are so much their own person and because of their differences, they have taught me different perspectives that I might not have ever considered without them. Oh, how I marvel at what they continue to add to my life!

This weekend I was with a sweet friend and in discussion about them, I had two little revelations about myself. One is that I have discovered since children that I am much more sensitive than I thought that I was.  I just didn't know how to navigate that very well and so I usually avoided it.  However, because they are so sensitive, I have found myself practicing sensitivity more often.

The other is that 3 kids equal a lot of chaos. There is a lot of dirt and there is always 3 different skill levels, 3 different pitch levels, 3 different directions, etc.  Having them together sometimes completely overwhelms my senses. For a while, I felt like there was something wrong with me because I couldn’t master having them all together. Maybe it was my guilt for working and being away from them so much, but in trying to make the most of our time together, I think that I was trying to make something else happen instead.

I do "one on one" really well though. Now, instead of just making plans for the regular one on one time, I’m trying to create the habit of making the most of every opportunity when it presents itself. Whereas before when we were all free, I tried to squish us altogether.

Now, when Ethan runs to a friend’s house, I throw down the dishes and go find Sophie. If I head out to the store, I try to only take one child. When everyone except Ethan is asleep on Friday night, I go find him and we stay up late and snuggle. Jackson, being a baby, gets his time in. There have become many other little examples of this togetherness. Somehow those successes and making so many more of them, make any group defeat not quite so discouraging and even seeming to happen less often.

Of course that second bit was worded a little differently to my friend but as I said it that same verse that I’ve been thinking about all year, seemed to finally come together in my heart. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior. Children really are like arrows...

Many of you might not know that my husband likes to hunt.  Bow hunting has become a particular area of interest to him. So many times, I have watched him shave and mount the feathers on each arrow to adjust the way that they fly.  Then when he is finished, he spends time not only learning how to hold the arrow but also how to hold himself and the instruments that he is using between the two. You could imagine the success of him or the arrow, if he tried to shoot the whole quiver at one time. Instead, he picks up each arrow one by one.

Just like I said earlier that each child reflects characteristics and direction of myself; each arrow reflects the influence of the Archer. It’s not having a quiver of arrows that makes him a warrior. It’s the practice and the skill that is learned from being with each one, over and over again.

In haste we can send them in the wrong direction. With misuse we can make them dull or waste their strength. With neglect, they can become damaged or endanger someone else. Yet, for as small and fragile as they may be, it only takes one (that is properly released) to take the prize or defeat an army. I’m sure that the similarities go on and on…

Allowing God to use them to convict me, shapes me into someone that I was not before them. Parenting is not only about who we get to send off into the world, it’s also about who we can learn to become. …Warriors.

With each child, there is a new perspective, a new challenge, a new relationship, a new lesson and new love. I think to myself how “blessed” would I be had I allowed God to fill my quiver full of children, instead of trying to limit that number to only 3. That isn’t said to make anyone uncomfortable. It is just a thought that floats through me occasionally and this verse carries it back to the surface. Learning how to embrace each one has shaped (and is shaping) me so much. How much more would God be able to teach me, so that I could teach them.

Maybe it’s my Indian heritage or my simple love for the culture but when I think of the word “warrior” I always imagine a Chief with the full head dress. -The Leader. The Fighter. –Not only the wisdom, and vigor and courage that the position represents but the respect that it commands. If you are a warrior, even your enemies will respect and/or admire what you represent, even when you disagree. When something is done well, people will come out to see how it is that you do what you do. If we take time with our children, "He shall not be put to shame..."

For the first time ever, I almost feel glory in the scattered dishes and laundry and dirt that am letting linger longer than I used to. As I am starting to spend more time with them in the moment, the other things just fall aside. The once "messy house" represents my new "battlefield". The clutter and debris just represent that a more important action is taking place somewhere else. Hopefully, it's an action that involves a feather being mounted. -Not only to an arrow but also to the crown of a warrior.... 

Please continue on for part two.

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Note to the reader: I might have read that scripture at the beginning of the year. I might have thought about it enough times for it to touch me so that I could include it in a note at a baby shower. It wasn’t until I made a comment this weekend with my friend that it really convicted or solidified a personal meaning to me. 

So many times, when we sit to read the bible, we are looking for something that speaks to us right then. While that does happen, there are many passages that do not "bring a personal message" until much later. Do not be discouraged if you don't find something immediately. Keep reading. When something strikes you, even if you can't explain why, pray about it, think about it, and allow time to take as long as it needs to do it's work. Something might be taking shape in your life so that the meaning can unfold itself to you slowly.