Older & Younger Moms

"Who's teaching mothers these days anyways?!"

An older mom looked at me, wanting to roll her eyes and tear up at the same time.

We had been talking about a choice one mom had made that put the health of her infant in jeopardy; one that she was comfortable with while those around her watched with horror. The choice is hers, and she owns it.

But the exclamation from my friend turned my attention elsewhere --
Who do we learn from?
Who is teaching us younger moms, anyways?

We moms are pros at figuring things out as we go. We have to! Kids (and life in general) are unpredictable, and we have to expect the unexpected and be prepared for what we don't know how to do.

Yet Scripture gives us this mandate:
"Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled" (Titus 2:3-5).

Older women are given the responsibility of teaching and training the younger women; they have had more years under their belts and typically have much wisdom for younger women to glean from.

Guess what that means for us younger women? We should listen to those who are older than us! Everything must be held against the Word of God, but that certainly shouldn't deter us from listening to those who have more life experience than we do. They may have tips for maintaining a home, or tricks for effectively disciplining a stubborn child; they may have habits they've kept for decades that have served them well in their personal lives. Each older woman has things that worked for her and things that didn't; imagine how much you could learn from even a few older moms!

My challenge to you and myself for this holiday season especially is to listen to moms older than us. We will have opportunities as we gather with family and friends to interact with women we can learn from. Even the most unlikely of people have things we can learn - whether we keep or discard their ideas.

As we sit down together, open gifts together, share meals together - don't be afraid to ask, or pay attention to a conversation that's already started. And when someone does share with you, resist the urge to be prideful. Resist cutting her off if you're not interested; resist rolling your eyes if it's something you've heard a thousand times. Hear it once more and be respectful of her opinions and methods. It will bless her, and if it doesn't bless you it will strengthen your patience and grace. Which is really still a blessing. ;)

Originally written by Amy Parsons for the Strength & Song weekly email.

Mrs. Ann

Her health allowing, a kind, aging widow weekly sits in the pew in front of us at church. She nods along as our pastor preaches doctrine, and especially when he reminds us of the faithfulness of the Lord Jesus to His children. This morning, though, I was deeply moved when I heard Mrs. Ann’s voice clearly, firmly singing our parting song:

He’s fairer than lilies of rarest bloom;

He’s sweeter than honey from out the comb;

He’s all that my hungering spirit needs;

I’d rather have Jesus and let him lead

Than to be the king of a vast domain

Or be held in sin’s dread sway;

I’d rather have Jesus than anything

This world affords today.

Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, facing many unknowns in her sunsetting years, I don’t know how to communicate to her how the melody of her testimony settles and reassures and fills me with courage. A woman who has lived eight or so decades stands with her small-town church family on an average Sunday morning and with faith and hope heralds the beauties of the Savior she knows so well, her Beloved who has kept her, held her, and brought her safely thus far.

And in the church pew behind her stands a younger woman; she is a mother with her husband and children. She is singing, too, but she struggles often with faith and hope, because she knows that her little family will encounter their own unknowns, and so she fights hard for faith and joy in the God of the promises. But as the older woman's song declares the faithfulness of our precious Lord Jesus, on this Sunday morning the young mom's heart is filled -- filled to the brim with joy and courage, hope and faith through the bold and gracious testimony spilling forth from the older, godly woman.

"I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken…” Psalm 37:25.

Written by an anonymous contributor.

5 Ways to Love Your Kids When You're Running on Empty

My son, Caleb, has a new way of telling us how tired he is. He gives us a percentage.
“Mom, my legs are 35%, ” he declares in the middle of downtown Atlanta on vacation.
“Mom, my legs are 8%,” he warns in the line at the grocery store.
“0%. No power,“ he calmly states as he wilts into the ground at Sam’s Club.”

And when I see him there, a part of me thinks, “Me too, buddy. Me too.”

0%. No power.

I so want to love my children like my battery is at 100% all the time, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how in the world that could happen.

My mom did it. She managed to create an atmosphere of love and care in our home when she had to have been at 0% a time or two herself. Even now, my mom is still doing everything she can to remind me of how loved I am.

In a few days, it will be my birthday. My mom is a master of birthdays and holidays. She makes me feel like I’m are the only important person in the world. She tells me what she loves about me. She sends me thoughtful gifts. She asks to spend time with me, but she doesn’t demand my attention. She calls me and texts me and reminds my siblings to call and text.  And those are just what I get when I’m a thirty-five-year-old adult living states away.

My mom’s example is sometimes overwhelming to me. How did she find time to love us so well even one day a year? How did she do it day after day after day? How did she find the strength to pursue us when we pulled away, to listen to us when we weren’t making any sense, and to do just the right thing we needed it?

After reflecting a little myself, I think I’ve figured out how my mom loved me when I know her batteries were running low:

She listened. When chatter spilled from my mouth about friends and people and ideas and activities, she always made me feel like my story was interesting and important. She asked follow-up questions, made understanding faces, and stopped what she was doing to hear me.

She included me in her world. Whether it was a trip to the grocery store or a stop by the Dairy Queen, my mom always invited me and my siblings to come. Sometimes she made us go with her when we didn’t want to, but even though we were mad, there was something about being wanted and valued that made us feel important, and we never knew when a trip to the grocery store and a trip to Dairy Queen might be one and the same.

She told me. My mom was great at telling us she loved us, at praising us for our efforts and for our character. She noticed what I did and told me about it. I felt noticed and affirmed and loved.

She thought about me. My parents would often come home from a date night or a trip or an errand with an extra treat for us. Something about the way mom said, “ I bought those chips you like” sounded to me like, “I love you and know what you like and went out of my way to make sure you know that I was thinking of you today.” For all I know, chips were on her list, but it felt special to me.

She forgave me. I had a bit of a temper growing up. I can be direct. I am not the sensitive and thoughtful woman that my mom is. But every time I stepped out of bounds, my mom forgave me, most of the time before I asked. “There’s nothing you can do to make me stop loving you, but I love you too much to let you act this way,” she would say.

In our material society, loving our kids sometimes feels like so many tasks: making them elaborate Valentine’s boxes and taking them to the zoo and feeding them homemade bread and doing and planning and performing. These things drain my battery all the way to 0%.

But listening doesn’t cost anything, and bringing my son Nathan along to Sam’s Club to get frozen yogurt and have a conversation about nothing doesn’t take any extra time. Telling Isaac that I love it when he smiles and gives me a thumbs up or making sure Caleb’s burger has pickles on it—just the way he likes it—doesn’t take too much energy.

Letting my kids know that nothing they can do will stop me from loving them fills all of us with the energy we need to face a new day.
It’s not the elaborate tasks that charge our batteries. It’s the simple and consistent ones.

Originally written by Laura Wailes for Mothering Beyond Expectations.