A Mother Muses

~ I love February for the hours spent creating--Valentines, heart cookies, cakes, funny poems, memories.

~ Every night lately the girls want to hear Salty Dog, by Gloria Rand. It's a long read and we're not quite sure what they love about it, except that the main character? A dog. Kids love dog books. Period. They don't have to be especially unique or cute, although that helps. 

It also provides schemata on sailing, which presents a new world for them. 

We will have to get a dog in the next couple years. Our kids will never forgive us otherwise; dog ownership never strays far from Peter's mind, especially. When he turned five we told him we'd get a dog when he turned ten. That seemed so far off and we thought surely we'd be ready, but now we have to consider the cost of dog food and health care. Smaller dogs eat less food, so we'll settle on something naturally small, but not too foo-fooish. It must have life and love fetching. No pampering some pink-bowed pooch around here! (Not that there's anything wrong with that...in case you have one in your arms right now.)

It's an understatement to say we're not house-pet parents. Cages? Okay, I guess; the hamster only got loose once. But a loose running animal? Shudder. The idea haunts our over-worked bones.

Like our Heavenly Father, however, we love to give good gift to our children. We're mentally preparing for a huge dose of sacrificial loving, as soon as our youngest can treat a pooch humanely. I think that means she'll allow the poor thing some occasional peace? I'm not sure you can have an entirely outdoor dog in northeast Ohio, especially without a garage. Just the muddy paws stretch my sacrificial parenting commitment. 

Tell me there's a special halo in Heaven for mothers who say yes to this childhood obsession? 

I do admit that the love between a child and a dog--the theme for many a famous novels--warms my softest places. It's a conspiracy, these books. All penned by adults who slept with their dogs all through childhood, no doubt. 

Dog hair and dander and E. Coli germs, oh my!

I caught her "reading" Salty Dog on her own. Upside down. That blessed me so! I had to rush to get a picture before she looked up.

~ Two brothers. Their relationship? Far from perfect, but blessed nonetheless. I do everything I can to make sure it lasts forever.

These two started writing e-mails to each other the other day, mostly so they'd both receive more e-mail. I suggested they express love and caring in their letters. Peter bullies Paul regularly, arising from academic and behavioral jealousy, and a lack of impulse control. The air needs to be cleared daily between them. Paul needs to know why Peter finds his brother special, and vice versa. In the first letter they listed four things they love about one another.

An hour or so later, I saw them sitting like this. When I suggested Peter sit in the adjoining chair so he'd be more comfortable, he declined. That blessed me so.

Dear Lord, you are so faithful to mothers! 


The scene changed about thirty minutes later, when Peter got to the saddest part of Where The Red Fern Grows.




My heart skipped when Peter walked up to me, crying hard. I noticed the book in his hand. All he could manage was this: "His dog died, Mommy." He sobbed and sobbed, just like the main character in the novel. He couldn't bring himself to finish the last several pages.

I held him and finished the novel through my own tears. Was it attachment to the characters that started the flood in my own eyes? Not necessarily. Seeing my son overcome with such grief hurt deeply. I felt exactly like the mother in the story. She watched her son grieve from the depths of his heart. Through her own tears she offered that the Lord has reasons for everything. The boy's heart, broken, couldn't accept that answer just then.

I knew finishing it would provide some closure for Peter, and for the heartbroken boy. The Lord did have a reason; the author weaved one into the story.

And the ending? It satisfied and amazed.

My children will face many trials and sorrows in the years to come. A mother's heart hurts sharply all the while! We can only hold them, cry with them, and remind them of the Truth.

A reason for everything? Yes. He uses everything.

And in the end? It's all for our good and His glory.


Romans 8:28
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

When a daughter or son looses a child, or a spouse, or a home, these words won't provide any more comfort than they did for the boy in the story. But as each sorrow unfolds and begins to hurt less, they'll see. 

In the meantime we hold, we cry with them, and we remind them of His love, remembering that His grace rests on them in ways we can't immediately understand. We trust in His grace for their darkest moments.

When you see your own child suffering, you understand better how our Heavenly Father feels when He sees us suffering. He suffers with us.