10th Day of Christmas: Song of Wonder

SCENE:
Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart. (Luke 2:19)

SYNTAX:
Wonder.
to have feelings of awe or admiration,
Marvel

SONG:
I wonder what kind of boy He will be.
Will He enjoy running and climbing trees?
I wonder what will be His favorite toy
or game He will play with other boys.

I wonder what plans God has in store
to accomplish His purpose with this little boy.
Will He be loved and accepted by men?
Even as a child, will they know who He is?
Will He be a king, mighty to save?
Will He be a prophet, pointing the way?
To the task, years of kings and prophets weren’t equal.
So, what will it take to save His people?

I wonder holding Him in my arms,
will I be able to keep Him from harm?
It’s what parents hope in a world of strife
but, Lord I trust You to guard His life.

SEARCH:
I have been so intrigued by Mary this Christmas season.  Maybe it’s because Baby Girl is almost 4 months old, and I guess I’m a little more reflective this year than I was when Squiggle was an infant during the holidays.  I’ve really been trying to identify with Mary as a mother and not just as the religious icon she’s come to be today.  The angel’s message about the child she would carry must have been both awe-inspiring and overwhelming all at once.  I’m sure she was like all mothers, full of hopes and dreams for her little bundle of joy.  

It’s a huge stretch of the imagination to consider Jesus as a boy, playing with friends, running and jumping, and giving hugs like my boys do.  The Bible doesn’t tell us much about His childhood, and I suppose we are so conditioned to think about Him as the teacher and healer revealed in the New Testament that we forget He actually did grow up.  He learned to crawl and walk and talk like all babies do.  I’m sure Mary looked at him with the same eyes full of wonder and heart overflowing with love that I use when I see my children.  What did she think of the angel’s declaration that He would be God’s Son and that His kingdom would have no end?  How did she imagine it would come to pass as the years went by?  Did she share the experience with Him?  Did she forget about it?  Did she have an inkling of what it meant? I’m sure she cringed the same way I do at the thought of them every being hurt or alone or broken.

And yet, He was hurt and left alone and broken. No doubt the scene she saw standing at the foot of the cross as she watched her beloved dying was far from her wildest ponderings on the night of His birth.  I can hardly bear to even think of the sorrow she must have born–there to the end as He made such a great sacrifice for her and all mankind.  We’re not told, but I hope she saw Him that Sunday morning three days later.  I hope she touched Him and kissed Him again.  I hope she saw the fruition of God’s blessing on her womb.  I’m certain she sees Him now–her son and Savior.

2nd Day of Christmas: Song of Humility

SCENE:
And Mary said, “My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior.  For He hath regarded the low estate of His hand-maiden.  For, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.  For He that is mighty hath done to me great things, and holy is His name.  And His mercy is on them that fear Him from generation to generation.” (luke 1:46 - 50)

SYNTAX:
Humble.
marked by 
Meekness 
or modesty 
in behavior, 
attitude or spirit 

SONG:
How could You have chosen me, just a simple maiden,
to bring Your Son into a world sin and sorrow laden?
How can I hope to nurture and raise God’s Son?
How can such a human raise a perfect one?
The lips that spoke creation I must teach to speak.
The feet that walked on clouds I must teach to leap.
The mind that conceived salvation I will teach to read
the truth within scriptures You Yourself breathed.

To shape the life of God is an overwhelming task.
I know I am not worthy to accomplish what You ask.
I lay my soul before You, a vessel clean and empty.
Mold in me the mother You need me to be.

SEARCH:
When I think about the awesome responsibility God entrusted to Mary and the qualities He must have seen in her, it is easy to see why so many have revered her over the centuries.  Although I don’t agree that she should be worshipped as she is in some circles, her life and character rightly warrant a closer look. But, strangely enough, I think Mary would be the very last person to see herself as worthy of anyone’s adoration.  Her immediate response to the angel’s message was to acknowledge her own “lowly” state and expound on the glories of her God.  She seemed quite surprised that God had given her a second look, much less chosen her to raise His Son.  What qualities must this young girl have possessed for God to have selected her to train His Son, to nurture Him, to love Him and to show Him her God?  What confidence He must have had in her desire to serve, in her ability to love.  What can this girl from Galilee teach me about mothering as God desires?

© 2008 Haley Montgomery

6th Day of Thanksgiving: Two Years with Squiggle

My little Squiggle Man is two years old today!  He doubled my joy on that Tuesday before Thanksgiving in 2006, a joy that continues to grow every day.  His birth made one of my most memorable Thanksgiving holidays.  When I went to the doctor on the Friday before, he decided that we would induce labor on Tuesday, November 21.  We had already determined that Squiggle would be the namesake of both of my grandfathers.  It wasn’t until I got home from the doctor’s office that the date sunk in.  He would be born on November 21, my Grandaddy’s birthday.  We knew, then, his name was well-chosen.  By 10am, I had him in my arms.  After two nights in the hospital, we brought him home–on Thanksgiving Day.

I remember that day as one of the most peaceful and joyful holidays I’ve experienced.  It was sunny and crisp, but not too cold.  A beautiful Autumn day.  We hardly knew it was a holiday, but we had much to be thankful for.  I was so glad to see and touch him on the outside and to be relieved from the pressure of having his 8 lbs 15 oz taking over my belly.  We got home just after lunch with big brother Little Drummer Boy all dressed up and proud of his new playmate.  I remember just wanting to soak them both up.  My nights at Oktibbeha County Hospital with Hub bunking in had been the only nights we’d spent away from Drummer Boy since he was born.  I was so happy to have them both home in our house–safe, healthy and in hugging distance.

It took us until the early afternoon to get home, get settled in and realize we were hungry.  Starkville is a university town, and the Saturday after Thanksgiving every other year brings in fans for the State/Ole Miss football game.  We’d never been in town for Thanksgiving, but we hoped the extra visitors for the upcoming game meant the standard take-out options would be open despite the holiday.  We called around and found out Ruby Tuesdays was one of the few restaurants available and placed our order.  There, around the table with a high-chair and a basinette, we enjoyed Thanksgiving lunch from black styrofoam take-out boxes–loaded fries, the sustenance of gratitude. 

We had our traditional Thanksgiving meal on Saturday with a few sleepless newborn nights under our belt.  We cooked it and ate it at my house.  Although we spread the table with the same dishes cooked from the same recipes, it was another first.  Every year before and since, the menu has been reserved for Grandmother’s house, MeMa’s house or Mama’s house.  Still, it was a precious change filled with the comfort and joy of being in the first place your children belong.

The blessing of getting to know Squiggle is just two years in the making now.  We are basking in joy that pops in and out, sitting just beneath the surface of the frustration inherent in parenting a toddler through those first tough lessons.  As with Little Drummer Boy (and I’m sure Baby Girl to follow), we are sometimes heavy with the realization that so much of who he is becoming is who we are, and who we are training him to be.

Squiggle is intensly resolved.  Some might call it strong-willed, that character trait we so often admire in adults, but chide in toddlers.  Even in the womb he was resolved.  He would straighten both his legs out to push against the constraints–one foot on each side under my ribs.  It took more than a few pokes and pushing back on his heels to get him to move, releasing my lungs to take a deep breath.  He came out of the womb determined to make his own way.  Even as an infant, he would never simply rest his head on my shoulder like his brother did.  He would always push back to take in his surroundings.  Only now does his loving spirit sometimes give in and allow me that fleeting luxury at bedtime.  Squiggle is passionate about everything.  He does everything and feels everything at 110%, fully giving himself to it.  He is the most fun-loving of my children, the most willing to test his wings with abandon.  This trait has prompted more than one person to tell me, “he will be the one to watch.”  He learned to smile very quickly, and practices often, along with his trademark squeal-fueled giggle and the universal animal roar he has made his own.  His eyes often reveal the twinkle of joyful mischief within, and he is the one most likely to fling himself into your arms–for two seconds before moving on to the next passion.

I love this picture from our first photo shoot.  He’s wearing the same white outfit each of my children have worn home from the hospital, and a baby blue sweater–the perks of being born in November.  I see an earnest expression, brow almost furrowed in thought. I still see that today sometimes when he is trying to make sense of his little world–resolving his passion for whatever is before him with the joy of life his heart seems to exude.  He will be a spectacular man.

God, please help us to get him there with his vibrant spirit unfettered.

Gift Tag: The Hug Store

Little Drummer Boy (my 3 1/2 year old) and I have a little game that goes something like this…

Mommy:  Do you have a hug for me today?
LDB:  No. (said with a giggle)
Mommy:  Oh no!  I need a hug.  Don’t you have one for me?
LDB:  No. (more giggling)
Mommy:  Do you have one in your pocket?
LDB:  (extended pause)  Ummm. Yes. 
And, he pulls an imaginary hug out of his pocket and gives it to me.  Nice.

Sometimes…

Mommy:  Are you sure you don’t have a hug for me?  I really need a hug this morning.
LDB:  But, I have one at school.
Mommy:  You have it at school?
LDB:  Yes. (said with a giggle)
Mommy:  Are you going to bring it home for me?
LDB:  Yes.
Mommy:  I wish I had a hug right now.
LDB:  But, I don’t have any more hugs.
He usually relents and somehow finds one before he heads out the door.

There are a hundred variations.  Sometimes the game translates to a request for his “special” kisses–the ones that aren’t just a peck, but all slobber and giggles.  My usual response is “Oooh, I’m going to keep that all day long.”  It’s the dance we do.  And, I’m a willing participant.  I relish the process because I know one day (way before I’m ready) I’ll have to do a lot more begging that that to get a hug from my big man.  One day he’ll be the one leaning down for the hug instead of me.

One morning this week, the game took a slightly different turn…

Mommy:  You’re out of hugs?  But, I really wanted a hug.  Can you get another one?  
LDB:  Yes, I can get one.  From The Hug Store.
Where does he get this stuff?  Laughter ensued from Mommy and Daddy, which made Little Drummer Boy giggle, too.  And, of course, I gave him a shake-down to find the one last hug hidden deep inside after all.

The Hug Store.  Talk about your retail therapy.  
Who am I kidding?  What he’s offering, money can’t buy!

Gift Tags are the tiny messages God continues to include with our gifts — 2 little joys of boys and 1 little jewel of a girl, each with open eyes, open ears, open hearts, and much to teach. “Behold children are a gift of the Lord…” (psalm 127:1)

Ornament

“When Eve was brought unto Adam, he became filled with the Holy Spirit, and gave her the most sanctified, the most glorious of appelations.  He called her Eva, that is to say, the Mother of All.  He did not style her wife, but simply mother,–mother of all living creatures.  In this consists the glory and the most precious ornament of a woman.”

~ Martin Luther

Three Ring Circus: Opening Tour Dates

“Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends.” 
(Emerson, Lake and Palmer - 1974)

Yes, I’ve been on a one-month hiatus from writing while seeing to some very special tour dates at home — the THREE RING CIRCUS tour, that is.  

If you’ve read the “meet haley” page, you’ve seen the men in my life. Little Drummer Boy (because really what object couldn’t achieve it greatest functionality by being used as a drumstick) is my 3-year-old.  Squiggle Man (because really what activity couldn’t be made even more fun by including a squeal and a giggle at volume 10) is my 22-month-old. Those two provide much of the excitement in our show, although, my husband occasionally offers a contribution.  You may have also read my allusions and occasional complaints about being very pregnant in August in Mississippi.  Well, I am here to say that the very best thing about being pregnant in August in Mississippi is the prize you get for playing!

BabyGirl Montgomery was born August 30, 2008 at 12:47pm, and she is a Jewel!  She weighed in at 8 lbs, 8 oz and was bright eyed, healthy and hungry from her first moment under the bright lights!  Our THREE RING CIRCUS is complete and we are sold out on it.

My OB/GYN had been saying for months that we would probably have the baby a week or two early, so we were expecting to induce labor on September 2.  BabyGirl had other plans.  My water broke at the breakfast table, we checked into the hospital at 10:00am and she made her arrival at 12:47pm — what efficiency and 12 days before my due date! We were so fortunate to have an easy delivery and a healthy baby girl.  It was also a bonus that my doctor and our pediatrician were both on call for the Labor Day (ha!) weekend, so we all were well acquainted.

Daddy is quite smitten already.  He’s been reminding himself for months, “I’m going to be the parent here.” But, we all know just who will be wrapped around who’s finger. Drummer Boy and Squiggle Man are enjoying having their little “seester” on the outside and Mommy’s full lap at their disposal.  Drummer Boy’s chief concern was “what is in your tummy now?”  On the morning we brought Baby Girl home, I let him know it was the hospital french toast I’d had for breakfast.  Since then, he’s been eager to help us take care of BabyGirl by fetching her poppy (read pacifier), patting her back and looking at her dirty britches (read #2 diaper).  Squiggle Man was quite confused while we were in the hospital, but has since begun to alert us of Maggie’s presence by shouting “Bee Bee” (read Baby) each time he sees her or her basinette.  Like Drummer Boy, he also brings BabyGirl her poppy,  and tries his best to get it in her mouth.  Since she hasn’t quite figured out how to keep it in her mouth, he raises his hands in confusion as if to say “this one must be broken.”  He also is quick to point o the basinette and say “bee-add” (read bed) when he thinks Mommy needs to put BabyGirl down and read to him!

Step right up!  The three rings are now complete, the show is on, and we are having a blast juggling all the blessings.

Gift Tag: Mommy’s Lap

My little Drummer Boy did not get a nap today.  It was day 7 in one of those weeks.  There has been a lot of excitement around our house.  Last Monday I went for my weekly doctor visit to check on Miss Baby M, and he decided it would be time to induce us at 38 weeks.  That means that when I go to the doctor tomorrow, we’ll find out what day THIS week our baby “seester” will make her arrival.

We’ve been scrambling around, getting all manner of pink baby items, and putting the semi-finishing touches on the nursery.  Mommy’s been working from home instead of going to the office, and getting more uncomfortable by the minute.  Daddy’s been taking over a few more parts of the daily routine than he had already taken over.  Little Drummer Boy and Baby Squiqqle Man have been slam dancing between spontaneous tears, random throwing of toys, mini tantrums and the sweetest blown kisses, slobbered kisses and hugs they’ve been holding in their pockets all day you’ve ever seen.  We know that confusion and insecurity are running rampant.  We know that even though Little Drummer Boy has an amazing vocabulary for which we can take no credit and Squiggle Man knows way more words than we give him credit for, they can rarely articulate what is really going on inside.  We’ve been watching, asking questions, guessing, soul-searching, and giving it a try for quite a few months now–go back to watching and repeat ad infinitum.  Change is hard, no matter how many years you have under your belt.

My Little Drummer Boy has had an extra dose of change lately.  Two weeks ago, he moved up to a new preschool class–new teachers, new schedules, still not wanting to put his tee tee in the potty, but everybody talking about it.  One week ago, he started his first “extra-curricular” activity–an AWANA “Cubbies” club where he’s meeting new friends, more new teachers, and learning Bible verses (doing a great job, I might add!)  Plus, he actually knows what it means to anticipate being a new big brother.  He’s already done it once.  

So, he didn’t get a nap today.  That means he was practically falling asleep at dinner, and I was putting him in bed early.  We read our books, found our blanket and puppy, turned on the music and listened to Mommy sing.  I thought he would fall asleep while I rubbed his back, but then it began: 

Drummer:  “Mommy…”

Me:  “Mmmm Hmmm?”

Drummer:  “I want to sit in your lap.”

Ok, I’m paying attention now.  Requesting to sit in my lap is uncommon these days now that he’s such a BIG 3-year-old– usually reserved for “bo bo” comfort or coersion (read bribery) from Mommy.  I knew this did not bode well for a speedy bedtime, but it was a treat I couldn’t pass up.

He climbed over in my lap, which Miss Baby M has shrunk considerably at this point.  Aside from some of my mandatory hugs, he didn’t cuddle or put his head on my shoulder.  He was content just to sit.  Then, he looked at me and smiled–a couple of times.

Me:  “Why are you smiling?”

Drummer:  “I’m happy.”

Me:  “Why are you happy?”

Drummer:  “I’m happy for you, Mommy.”

Me:  “Why are you happy for me?”

Drummer:  “I’m sitting in your lap.”

It was a crystal clear moment.  I saw deep into his heart, and was dumbfounded by how little it took to get there.  I knew he meant he was happy ABOUT being in my lap.  It was instantaneous security, peace, clarification, and love for him.  I told him how proud I was of him, how thankful we were on the day he was born, what a good big brother he was, and how much bigger Mommy’s lap would be in just a few more days.  And, just as quickly, the moment was gone. My Little Drummer Boy “wasn’t tired” anymore, and we would live to convince him otherwise in another hour or so.

“Teach us to number our days, that we may present to Thee a heart of wisdom.” (psalm 90:12)

Yes, it was a crystal clear moment.  One that underscored a realization that there is no better barometer of wise priorities than to center ourselves in this moment in this place to do what counts most–even if it’s just postponing bedtime for a little laptime.  Although, my Little Drummer Boy misused his preposition, I was actually happy FOR me.  It was instantaneous peace, clarification and love.  I saw deep into my own heart, and was dumbfounded again by the recognition that the best of my whole world can be found in the space of just a few rooms.

Gift Tags are the tiny messages God continues to include with our gifts — 2 little boys and the anticipation of 1 little girl, each with open eyes, open ears, open hearts, and much to teach. “Behold children are a gift of the Lord…” (psalm 127:1)

17 Days on the Wagon

Yeah.  The Junkie has been on the wagon for the last 17 days.  In some situations, being on the wagon is very good (and I mean VERY.)  But for EyeJunkie–not so much.  It’s been 17 days since I posted anything that was meaningful and “right now.”  Yes, I’ve posted interesting photographs, some poetry I’ve been wanting to add, links to freelance articles–but nothing that really speaks to where my soul is at the moment.  That usually means that I can’t really put my finger on where my soul is at the moment.  Not good. 

I know I probably need to write.  I want to write.  I think.  Still, I’m kicking, screaming, and procrastinating.  It’s taken me three days to write this post.  But, here I go.  Finally, a tumble off the wagon.

Why so long between fixes?

1.  I have legitimate reasons.  (said defensively to myself)  I’m 8-months pregnant for crying out loud.  The ETA for the divine Miss M is five weeks away.  It’s July and hotter than the devil’s domain. But, I’m still hot-flashing, so my internal temperature is about 135 degrees.  Just standing on the porch makes me sweaty and out of breath.  Heck, just standing period makes me sweaty and out of breath.  There’s no room in my lap for Squiggles or my Little Drummer Boy, let alone both.  So, somebody has to sit ON Miss M, which makes me feel like I’m about to birth her right now!  I need a nap after just taking a shower.  I can’t see my toenails, let alone paint them which is really a moot point anyway since my feet won’t fit into any cute sandals at the moment.  So, writing is not really at the top of the list, ok.

Whew!  It felt good to get that out of the way.  Sometimes a little whining at the top of your lungs does the trick, but I’m getting a grip now.

2.  I have nothing to write about.  At least, that’s the surface reaction.   But, since writing is inevitably tied to thinking, it usually means my brain is so FULL I can’t get a handle on articulating my thoughts.  I can’t get my hands around what’s going on inside.  No thoughts = no writing.  The complexities of daily activities and the unexpected effects of all the change in our lives make for quite a juggling act.  Even the most expert jugglers sometimes find themselves with too many balls in the air.  Every action turns into a reaction–thoughts to a minimum relying on an overactive coping mechanism.  My instinct is to go with it and try to keep the balls in the air at all costs.  Unfortunately, that’s usually the last thing I need to do.  

My solution–drop a few balls.  Drop them all.  They don’t break.  They just bounce.  That gives me the chance to examine them, see where they go, find out where they roll to a stop.  My friend calls it “Take 10.”  Presto.  I CAN actually think and decide and act — and write!  And, for me, writing means I can think better.  Pretty soon I’m back to juggling, just with a little more balance and not as much Tylenol.

3.  I have too much to write about.  At least, that’s how it seems when I get like a creative deer in the headlights.  You see, I like to use the nifty “stickies” feature on my Mac.  One is devoted to writing ideas.  Only, now my one has expanded to two.  Stickies — my frenemy.  Ideas are good.  They’re great when paired with freedom.  But, when they start to become a burden, they can produce creative paralysis.  I’m intimidated and overwhelmed by the sheer possibilities.  I’m at a total standstill.  

My solution–choose a starting place, one idea.  Whether I’m writing, designing or planning a birthday party, the first step is choosing a place to begin and then having the courage to follow through.  I can begin anywhere.  Ideas aren’t precious.  They’re not my children.  They are just ideas, baby thoughts that may or may not grow.  It’s ok not to explore them all.  One that’s half-baked now might get all warm and bubbly sometime later.  In my creative pursuits, I must strike a balance between giving myself a break and holding myself to a healthy state of accountability.  When that balance finds its place, creativity can flourish.

So, here’s to falling off the wagon without getting bruised!  Let the writing begin again.