13
February
2007
By Cynthia
Dear Lord,
When I have days like today, when I am frustrated with my child, with my own parenting skills — when I lose my patience and my voice begins to rise to ungodly heights — Lord, help me. I know this beautiful child you’ve give me is only testing his limits, trying to see how much he can get away with and me still love him. Lord, he doesn’t know that I will love him no matter what. He doesn’t appreciate that my discipline is to keep him from harm’s way — to save him some heartache in the future. He hasn’t matured enough to realize that mommy wants only the best for him, that mommy cannot bear the thought of him going astray. He wants what he wants because he is a child. He wants what he wants because he is human. He wants what he cannot have, because it seems so wonderfully forbidden.
I know that God. I know that because I am him. I struggle with the same thing. I, too, have seemingly uncontrollable desires. I, too, struggle in my growth to see that the denial of things is for my own good. I still sometimes reach out and touch the fire, knowing full well it is hot. That it will hurt. That it will scar. I still run to You in shame and pain needing Your healing touch. And You, how You must grieve to think that You warned me, and I didn’t listen. I cry, because I want to please you. I repent and apologize. And through all of it, I grow.
I don’t want a rebellious spirit. I don’t want a unteachable spirit. I want more of You. I want to be like You. Work in me, Oh God. Change me. Grant me wisdom for parenting and life.
Make me the mother, wife, and Christian I should be, for this is my heart’s desire.
–Amen
Written By: Cynthia
Posted under: On Being a Parent . 
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19
October
2006
by CynthiaÂ
Being a work-at-home mom sometimes has its disadvantages. When I tell people that I work from home they usually gush and say something along the lines of, “Girl, I wish I could do that — stay at home, work in my pajamas, be there for the kids…etc.” Naturally the next question they ask is who do I work for and how can they get started. I want to tell them that it’s just not that simple. I want to tell them about my months of sending out resumes online, my months of training to do transcription, my endless searches on the job boards. But I don’t think they really want to hear that. All they heard was that I get to stay home. If they could really see the flip side, they would see:
The mountain of laundry and dishes created when I’m under deadline. I get to see those and be reminded of those while I work. They call out to me from their corners of the house. “Here I am. Finish me. Just give me a few minutes of your time. You know I’m being neglected.” And I plug my earbuds in a little tighter so I can drown out the guilting they are dishing out.
Or what about the telephone that rings incessantly. Telemarketers. Surveyors. Hubby. And, gasp, other stay-at-homers. And of course everyone assumes that since you’re home, you’re available for whatever plans they might have for your time. “Your schedule is flexible. Can you just run to the post office, bank, heaven forbid — Wal-Mart?” “No…no…I want to scream. I have this deadline you see…” But they’re already giving you the particulars. And the truth of the matter is, they probably would never call you at a traditional job and ask these things. It’s as if because you’re at home you have no boss. And nothing could be farther from the truth.
In fact, since you’re home, you have yourself as boss. You must be demanding of your own time and deadlines. You must prioritize every waking moment–or you will learn the hard way that working with the television on puts you at least two hours behind, that Oprah is not conducive to productivity, and All My Children is basically the same storyline every five years repeated. “But Oprah motivates me,” my inner self whines. “No, what motivates you is that paycheck I get on a regular basis. Turn that t.v. off and get back to work,” I tell myself.
And that part about working in your pajamas, forget it. If you can get over the looks you get from UPS and FedEx, fine. But I’m one that won’t go to the door without a bra, and well, you might as well put one on when you get up, because the day you don’t get dressed is the day they arrive or you get called to school for a sick child, or a friend shows up wanting to take you to lunch. I could have killed my husband in cold blood the day he decided to schedule a repairman without telling me. You’re laughing, but you know, it happens.
So it’s not always a picnic in the park; the proverbially bed of roses indeed has its share of thorns. To all of you work-at-home moms out there — and maybe even dads — I applaud your efforts. I know how frustrated you are when it’s suppertime, homework time, family time, and you’re still sitting hunched over a computer keyboard trying to get that work out. I know how hard you work at balancing the delicate dance of deadlines and domestic duties. Yes, it’s rewarding to be there when the kids get home. Yes it’s nice not having to buy work clothes and lunches out or spend gas on commuting. These are our fringe benefits. It’s nice to have them, but what’s more important is that we love what we do. Like any job, that makes it all worthwhile. That, and the chance to stop and blog, take a coffee break, and go barefoot. Wink.
Have a great day!
Note from Meredith:Â For more information and support for work-at-home parents, see the following links (Christian sites, but helpful and supportive regardless of your religious affiliation):
Christian Work At Home Moms
Christian Work At Home Dads
Written By: Cynthia
Posted under: On Being a Parent, Stay At Home Parents . Email This Post
18
September
2006
by Cynthia
For the last four years, my son and I have attended (usually with Daddy along, but Daddy had to work this year) a Pinewood Derby sponsored by the church’s Royal Rangers groups. This year my son’s winning streak came to an abrupt end. His golden hot rod decorated with Hot Wheel stickers did not place. No matter how much you tell them that they are still a winner, it’s still hard to see that look of disappointment on their face when it happens. Our conversation went something like this:
“Mom, I know I’m not going to win anything this year.”
“I’m sorry, son. But someone has to lose. Look around you. There are lots of other boys who didn’t win either. I bet they feel bad too. But they are still having fun, and you have a great car to take home.”
“I know.”
“We’ll beat ‘em next year, son.” Hugs.
There were no tears, thankfully. I think that would have broken my heart. And as disappointed as I was, I know that it was as good a time as any for my son to learn the facts of life about good sportsmanship. He and I also got a good look at how it feels to be on the other side of the fence. Hopefully he and I both learned something about compassion and humility.
I was thinking about the position I have found myself in lately–such a humbling, and yes, even at times,humiliating position. It’s easy to be smiling and cheerful when you’re in the winner’s circle. But how much more compassionate and humble do we become when we find ourselves in that spot where we never dreamed we would land? We find ourselves identifying with those in our own predicament–those we possibly criticized before. Now, after finding ourselves on the other side of the fence, we realize how hard a pill it is to swallow. We find ourselves wishing we had been a bit more modest about our earlier successes…a little less prideful. We realize how little we really have even given to help the cause of those less fortunate around us. We become more grateful when someone pauses to help us as we struggle back to the top.
Yes, every boy and girl that attended today was a winner just for showing up and trying. The real test of each one’s car was not necessarily how fast it ran against the competition. There have been years when certain cars did not even make it all the way down the track. The real test is crossing the finish line. We must run this race to finish. If our neighbor falters, we must encourage him to go on. If our neighbor stalls, we must do what we can to help him get back on the right track and move ahead. We’re in this thing together. Yes, it is important that we run our race to the best of our ability–to give our absolute best in service to the Lord. Yes, we may have bumpy roads, breakdowns, and false starts where we have to start completely over at the beginning, but the important goal is to cross that finish line and hear our Lord and Master say, “Well done.” How blessed we are that to be in the family of God is to be victorious–in this life and the life to come.
Written By: Cynthia
Posted under: On Being a Parent . Email This Post
23
August
2006
With children, sometimes you just have to go with the flow. No matter how embarrassing you think your child’s latest stunt is, chances are it has happened to someone else. It goes with the program; children are unpredictable. They are honest to a fault, and yet, they are hopelessly devoted to you, no matter how much egg you have on your face. Psalms 127:3 says, “Children are a gift from God. They are a reward from Him.†God gives us these gifts to bring joy to our lives.
In her article, “And They Played All Day,†on www.aldort.com, Naomi Aldort,one of today’s leading Parenting/Family counselors states:
“Life is a game. Perhaps adults have matured and forgotten this essential element of life called play. We have become serious and have made an artificial distinction between play and work and between play and study. Our children are here to teach us to lighten up, to put a spark in our eyes and Play Life.”
Sometimes it is important to just “lighten up†and let them be little.
When my son CWGIII was three, he was chosen as Innkeeper in the church play. His line was: “No room,†and he was to point to the stable. Even though he managed to get out the two words, they were barely audible. His expression spoke for him, and by the next year his talent really began to shine. He graduated to the role of Shepherd complete with crook. The moment I saw him, I knew there was trouble brewing. Still, I could not help but swell with pride as my little shepherd marched out with the cast. He was the shortest of the group, but there was no problem seeing him. The pastor had a camera rigged to a huge screen where everyone would get a good view. We all smiled as the little angels made their way to the stage—and around it, and up to the organ, and over to the choir and back, wandering around in childlike curiosity, eager to adapt to their stardom.
“Aren’t they adorable,†I whispered to my husband. Just as the shepherds had gotten situated on the risers I turned my attention to them to find Chase. I could not see him. He was on a middle row. Where was he? Suddenly the shepherd’s crook came rising up between two characters on the front row. Everyone was chuckling as my son, the humble shepherd was trying to herd one of the cast off the stage with his crook. Then another shepherd tried to intervene. They had a brief tug-of-war over the crook before it fell between the risers. My mind was reeling as another shepherd got down between the risers. In my mind I was thinking, “Just let it lie.†I was burying my head in my hands, my cheeks aflame. A part of me was trying not to laugh along with everyone else. A part of me felt like crawling under the seat. The audience was getting a real kick out of the shepherds, and after it was over I was told what a comical success my son had made of the pageant. I just smiled and said, “He takes after his daddy.†What else could I say?
It is much like the time we ran into his preschool teacher at the grocery store, and Ms. Martha said, “Is your Mama cooking more these days?†I looked at her like she had three heads.
“Oh, has he complained about my lack of cooking skills?â€
“Um…not really,†she replied, “he just loves Ms. Sue’s cooking.â€
But I knew better. It had not been two weeks since I had invited my family for dinner. I had cooked several dishes for my visitors from out of town. I was so pleased with how the meal turned out–until Chase came to the table and said, “Wow Mom, Is it Thanksgiving?†The child is not used to having family style meals. I fill our plates from the stove for the three of us, and usually it is simple fare, so naturally he thought it was a holiday. No wonder Ms. Martha thought his mom could not cook. That is what Chase thought too. I was glad that for once I had a buggy load of groceries.
Enjoy those moments, parents, for they are quickly gone. Make memories out of teachable moments. Use everyday events to reinforce these lessons. I relish the memory of teaching my son to tie his shoes, even though his first week in school he paid his friend Adam a quarter to tie them. No wonder I got the note from Ms. Tiffany saying we needed to work on tying. When I told her he had been paying Adam, she just laughed. And once again, I said, “He’s just like his daddy.†I fear if we keep doling out quarters, he will find a way to pay someone to do his homework. And yes, kindergärtners have homework these days. If you have not reached the kindergarten stage, just wait. They will be reading by Christmas. By May, they will be doing your taxes. Although Chase already knows the value of a quarter, we now have the task of teaching him to be thrifty, to save the money, and do the labor himself—a much less attractive option for Chase, as well as little entrepreneur Adam.
But, for every embarrassing moment, every crawl-under- the-table-and-hide episode, there are a million and one great moments. I get to hear my son pray that the rain will stop so he and his friend Katie can go swimming. I am amazed as the skies part and the sun appears. I get to hear him pray over a broken DVD remote and lay hands on it in soulful pleas. That remote worked fine within minutes. I get to hear him recount his Sunday School lessons and tell me about “Shadrork, Mooshark, and Abednego.†I get to hear him sing southern gospel with his daddy. As we travel, we turn the volume up and have a sing along.
I am so thankful that God chose to bless me with this wonderful child. He was worth nine months of vomiting, the 27 c-section staples, 4 a.m. feedings, and the poopy diapers. It is ok that I have a couch cushion I have to turn upside down because Chase became artistic with nail polish at the age of 2. It’s ok that my car’s interior is a rerun of Sanford and Son. Let them be little, I remind myself. Little shepherds and angels make for big blessings.
I had the honor of attending my son’s school awards ceremony. My son walked proudly to the podium and received his Character award for honesty and helpfulness. Don’t you know this forty-year-old mother was wanting to stand up and cheer! I had to bite my tongue from nudging the lady next to me and crowing, “He takes after his mom…â€
Written By: Cynthia
Posted under: On Being a Parent . Email This Post
15
August
2006
School’s back in session, and the house is oddly quiet. It’s time I got back to my works-in-progress, my newest endeavor, From the Dust of Rose Hill. As I sat down in front of my laptop today, thoughts began flooding my mind of how to approach this new work. I opened an email from Diane, one of the blessings of friendship I have encountered in my first months of becoming a Stay-At-Home-Mom. A wonderful and enlightening conversation followed that, had I been anywhere else in the world at this moment on a traditional job, would not or in all liklihood could not have occurred.
Diane is an encourager. Her words and thoughts over at Partners in Prayer for our Prodigals will bless you and enrich your life as she chronicles the blessings and struggles of parenting a wayward son. In the months that followed our meeting, I have come to realize that God in his infinite wisdom has placed her in my path for specific reasons. But not only her, a plethora of wonderful moms, all beautiful and funny and engaging in their own special ways. This is the joy of the internet, my friends. The fact that we can share our lives — however far apart we may be — and lift up one another is an incredible miracle to me.
You see, being a stay-at-home-mom is sometimes a lonely job. Not being out in the corporate world has its perks, but you lose a lot of that day-to-day interaction that keeps one sane. It helps to be able to log on and find moms who are experiencing the same things you are experiencing day by day. It helps to have a shoulder to cry on, a friend to rejoice with, a partner in prayer. If you think I’m wrong about this, visit some of these wonderful ladies’ blogs and see how much prayer goes on. In a day and age where it is being banned in public places right and left, it is an awesome feeling to know that the world cannot stop prayer from continuing. There is a band of believers and moms silently — and sometimes not so silently, making their way around the world, holding each other up — holding each other’s families and children up to God. Once God puts something in motion, you can’t stop it. Your words are a powerful thing, mothers. At the risk of sounding preachy, let’s remember that as we interact here. I want to make a difference. Don’t you?
Written By: Cynthia
Posted under: Stay At Home Parents . Email This Post
4
August
2006
Note From Meredith: Please welcome Cynthia as our newest Violet Voice! Cynthia is a fellow writer, and a SAHM, and I’m thrilled to have her contributing to my blog. Here’s Cynthia’s story about becoming a Work at Home Mom.
Last year my husband and I found ourselves seeking employment. It was the perfect time to change over to being a Stay-at-Home-Mom. I was tired of the corporate world, tired of being at their mercy with my schedule, tired of the ulcers it gave me. I began searching the internet for ways to work from home. This proved to be as wild a goose chase as any you have ever encountered. There are so many “opportunities” — so very few legitimate work-from-home jobs. Most of the online opportunities involved multilevel marketing or living off of residuals. I didn’t have time to build up a business based on referrals. I needed employment.
Finally after a few frustrating months, I posted my resume on a freelance network and received a call from a transcription company. With my office management skills and experience, this avenue proved to be a perfect match. I found I could type in my pajamas if I wanted, just like all the ads had touted. I was skeptical about getting paid. I had heard that there are scams online that get you to take a test (translate type long files) or pay to take their courses. Then they keep you on the lowest payscale, because you’re in “training” still. I was one of the fotunate ones; just as promised, my check arrived along with more work. I was thrilled, but still I had this nagging feeling that I could do more.
My English degree lay dormant for 20 years. I wanted to write. I’ve always wanted to write. I have always written. My works filled pages and pages but were locked away where no one could read them. During those frustrating months of unemployment I began to work on that first novel, and now less than a year later, I am proud to say that I have finished the first draft of From Pharaoh’s Hand.
The journey and self-discovery have been incredible as I have started blogging and researching the making of a novel. Learning about the publishing world has opened my eyes to new avenues at every hand, and I hope to find a niche for my first work as soon as possible.
There is a wealth of information to be had for new writers and new stay-at-home moms on the internet. It pays to be persistent and wary. Sift through the ever-increasing flow of information and find that gold mine you’ve been searching for — whether it’s an agent or just a part -time typing job. Your persistance will pay off in time, and both your family and your ulcers will thank you. Wish me luck!
Written By: Cynthia
Posted under: Stay At Home Parents . Email This Post
