Hiking in Pearls

Category: Motherhood

  • Gone Fishing

    Gone Fishing

    The dog days of summer have arrived in full force. All week, we have been under heat advisories as the heat index has soared into triple digits, and fishing is the only thing that the boy wants to do. So we went.

    It was early and already hot. The humidity made the air heavy, and the fish were biting superbly! Within three minutes, we had our first fish.

    My favorite part though…the part that I never want to forget was when that sweet little boy filled his pockets with worms to take with him. I offered him the tub, but he declined. “It’s okay. I got pockets,” he said.

    “Yeah, I guess you do,” I responded as he walked away so big, and I wondered if I would find pieces of worms in the laundry later.

    In my mind, I shake the Polaroid I took of the moment until the image becomes clear. There he is, worms flipping between his fingers in a vain attempt to escape the black abyss of his pocket.

    Here’s to the worms that were made for pockets.

  • Remembering to Live

    Remembering to Live

    Water droplets sprang up from the mat around my legs. They jumped to meet me as my feet hit against the wet trampoline.

    My knees bent again, and I was pushed towards the sky. I couldn’t help but laugh as the butterflies that started in my stomach beat their wings and soared up, up, and up until they rested on my heart.

    This scene freezes in my mind as I hit pause. Friend, rewind with me if you will.

    20 minutes earlier.

    The morning had started out as a typical day. Warm air had accepted the invitation to flow into the house through the open screens. Golden rays from the sun heated swatches on the floor.

    Spring had arrived. She spoke clearly in her native language to come and play.

    The children are far more sensitive to her silent plea than I.

    I find that my ears have grown dull to her cry. While the voice of expectations yell over her whispers to live.

    Groans filled the room as textbooks were flipped open. Each page seemed to speak softly of an agreed protest as the next assignment to complete was found.

    “Oh great. Now it’s raining. I’ll never get to play outside. My life is ruined.” My oldest child whined.

    I joined his gaze and looked outside. Sheets of rain blew in at an angle.

    I turned towards him and said, “Go, jump on the trampoline.”

    “What?” He laughed. “You can’t do that!”

    “Why not? “

    His silence proved that my question had obstructed his logic.

    “You always want to jump with the sprinkler under it. You have the sprinkler of heaven on for you now. There is no lightning. Go jump!”

    Both of my sons stared at me bewildered.

    “Go! Play!” I yelled enthusiastically.

    My youngest son had squirmed in his chair and now laid in it. His stomach rested on the seat, and his arms and legs drug the floor as he swung them. He held his head up and asked, “How do you know that we can?”

    “It’s one of the things that I am remembering.”

    Those were the words that ignited them to action. The house absorbed the heavy, hammering of their feet as they rushed out the door.

    The momentary silence was quickly drowned out by the breakfast dishes as they made their demands to be scrubbed.

    My mind began to race while I watched the sink fill with water.

    I’ll give them 10 more minutes to play. I still need to pull something for lunch. There’s that appointment this afternoon. I looked at the calendar. Next week…how am I going to get all that finished?

    Muscle memory took over as I washed and rinsed plates. The soundtrack of laughter that played from the backyard had become background noise.

    And then I heard it. Go jump with them.

    I will as soon as I finish the dishes and…

    Go, now. Jump with them.

    I abandoned the dishes to a blanket of bubbles that rested on top of the murky water, and I ran across the yard.

    Their laughter heightened, “What are you doing, mom?”

    Then…

    We jumped…towards heaven as part of it fell upon us.

    We bounced…until our inside tickled, full of butterflies.

    We laughed…until our cheeks hurt and our breath became labored.

    We Remembered.

    We Lived.

  • The Pace of a Child

    The Pace of a Child

    If you opened my refrigerator right now, you wouldn’t notice the litter of condiments and leftovers. Your eyes would settle on the pencil.

    Ground to the last inch of its life. It was left by one of my beautiful children…three weeks ago.

    I didn’t move it, because I wanted to remember…

    I stroll to that precious moment in my mind. There I can hear the chorus of laughter from the other room. The picture is clear as I close my eyes. I see an opened package of Cheeze-its spilling out on top of a container of blueberries. A pencil worn far too short to be of any use laid in front of the scene.

    Mementos of fleeting youth.

    Soon the children will be grown.

    Responsibility will lasso their minds and pull them into a place of order.

    I left the pencil to keep what I fear will be lost. For I am all too aware, that this moment will soon be gone.

    There was a time I would clean around their perfect, grubby, little handprints on the window. Knowing one day it would be the last time to wipe them up. Their hands would never be this size again.

    The handprints have since faded…

    Stickers can still be found on the dryer door and legs of the dining chairs. They remind me of innocence and imagination.

    In my flowerbed you will find a pile of broken trinkets. Big hearts displayed through small hands that carried each piece. Their souls spilling over with joy from the “treasures” they had found.

    Treasure, they wanted to share with me.

    I am reminded of Genesis 33. It is here we meet Jacob returning home from his time as a fugitive and working with Laban. His brother Esau came out to meet him and offered to join him for the remainder of the journey home.

    Jacob declines. Telling him that the children are tender and the flocks have young. He doesn’t want to drive them too hard.

    Jacob, rather than pushing his children to hurry up, slowed down with them. He changed his pace to theirs.

    He chose to protect a sacred time. Life shared as parent and child.

    I am finding as I grow into life, I have forgotten. All the things that truly matter.

    My children help me to recall. All the wonderful things I overlook.

    A beautiful gift of remembrance awaits each of us. Parent or not, if we are willing to slow to their stride.

    A life of priceless wonder is at hand.

    Friend, I want to encourage you today to slow to the pace of a child.

    Remember to Tarry…even Stop.

    To Ponder the Majesty of the World.

    To Laugh.

    To Play.

    To Explore.

    To Discover.

    To Dream.

    To Live.

    Friend, there is much yet to enjoy.

    In grace and peace,

    Sharon Rose

  • The Power to Overcome: Lessons from a Blind Artist

    The Power to Overcome: Lessons from a Blind Artist

    I have a painting that hangs as the focal point of my dining room. The title “Max and Theo,” is a picture of a happy elephant with a parrot resting on his truck. With vibrant colors, the painting speaks of the joy of unlikely friendship.

    Hidden below the symphony of colors is a greater testament. You can hear the shouts of triumph through the artist’s signature. Two o’s, each with a x marked over them. The painter, John Bramblitt is completely blind.

    Yet he paints. Beautifully.

    I bought this piece to inspire my son. Too often the weight of schoolwork places a burden of “I can’t” upon his shoulders.

    I hung it on the wall as soon as it arrived.

    As our school day circled to math, I heard the infamous words, “I can’t,” spill from his mouth.

    I pointed to the new painting on the wall. “If a blind man can paint like that, then there is nothing that you can’t do.”

    He gave a heavy sigh and opened his book. It wasn’t long before I heard, “Mom, I think I can do this…I can do this.

    Mom! I can do this!“

    As he finished his work he pushed the book towards me.

    He had done all of the problems correctly.

    “Good job, buddy. You did it!” I said as I ruffled his hair.

    With a quick flip of his wrist his pencil was in the air. Before it hit the ground, he was up; running a victory lap through the house and shouting, “Woo Hoo! I did it!”

    As he began to regained composer, he sat down and shook his head in disbelief. There was a smile that would outshine the moon across his face, “Mom, I actually did it.”

    “I knew you would.” I told him.

    My son was inspired to face his challenge, because one man chose to overcome his.

    If I’m honest, it is easy to quit when things get hard. When the fear of failure looms like a daunting storm inevitable to escape.

    I have learned it takes far more strength to be willing to try and fail then to never begin.

    In his interview with 3playmedia.com, Faces Behind the Screen John offers this advice, “My piece of advice would be to fail. Fail a lot, and don’t be afraid of failing. If you’re not failing in your life, you may not be trying enough new things. Give yourself the freedom and the license to fail.”

    Friend, I challenge you today to risk failing and don’t stop.

    The measure of a man is in how many times he stands up. Not in how many times he has fallen down.

    Failure is the foundation for greatness.

    F – first

    A –attempt

    I – in

    L –learning

    You can do this.

    You were created to do hard things.

    As I close today, I want to encourage you to take some time and check out the work of this American painter. His website is http://bramblitt.com. Also consider grabbing a copy of his memoir, Shouting in the Dark: My Journey Back to The Light, co-written with Lindsey Tate.

    Now it is your turn. Choose to do the hard thing.

    Go – be inspired!

    Go – take a chance!

    and then

    Go – inspire!

    *Image of the painting was used with permission by the artist.

  • Overcoming Evil with Good: A Beach Adventure

    Overcoming Evil with Good: A Beach Adventure

    Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good. Romans 12:21 KJV

    I recently had the opportunity to go to the beach with my children and a Sister in Christ. The first evening that we were there the children and I were each stung by a jellyfish! They were rather small in size and did not deter us from enjoying that water.

    The next morning like most beach goers we were up early to walk the shore and look for shells. What the shore lacked in shells we found in jellyfish that had been left behind from the tide!

    These boys found the mission of their vacation. To save the jellyfish!

    Our first day found us completely unprepared for “Operation Jellyfish Rescue.” Not to be outdone, my oldest put his ingenuity to work, and he used his sandal to manipulate them back into the ocean. Each time after he was sure to bring his shovel. He had a heart to help the helpless jellyfish laid out on the beach.

    I saw the heart of Jesus pouring out from their innermost being.

    They worked together to find and recover all that had been left behind. To show kindness to that which had caused them pain.

    I couldn’t help but think of the scripture above, to offer good for evil. It would have been easy to justify leaving them on the shore. After all they had stung us a few times, and likely we would be stung again. It is their nature to sting. Yet, they returned them to the only place they can live. The place they can cause pain. The place where we would swim.

    Children hold a rare and pure beauty.

    Without thought, mine looked to restore life to the jellyfish. The very thing that had hurt them.

    In the last part of Isaiah 11:6, it states that, “a little child shall lead them.”

    My prayer is that we will slow to the pace of a child and allow them to lead us.

    Friend, there is much to learn.

  • Looking for Dishes

    Looking for Dishes

    “Hurry up,” I told my oldest son for the seventh time. “If we jog, we can still catch them.”

    “But mom, my legs are tired,” he answered as he collapsed to the ground.

    My younger son had already walked ahead with a family friend. Their shadows appeared and disappeared as they walked underneath the solar lights that lit the walk path. It would be at least an hour before the sun was up.  I looked ahead. It would be a strain to catch up with them now. I turned back and look at my son laying in the middle of the walk path on his back. He was content laying on the hard asphalt and looking up at the stars.

    “This feels better,” he sighed.

    I guess I’ll join him, I thought as I laid down next to him.

    “Mom, I really like looking for dishes.”

    “Dishes?” My mind pictured the kitchen sink at home. “In the sky?”

    “Yeah. The big dipper and little dipper, they’re my favorite. I like how they pour into each other.”

    “That is pretty cool, isn’t it?” In the silence of the moment, I reflected on his words, “They pour into each other.”

    I learned a vital life lesson from my 8-year-old son right then. Our life should be one of pouring. Every day we should be looking for ways to pour into each other. Not dipping from someone else to try and fill up ourselves. When we live a life of dipping, then everyone ends up empty. BUT once we transition to a life of pouring, then everyone is full and there is no lack!

    “That looks like the big dipper there,” he pointed.

    “I think your right, it sure looks like it.”

    “Do you know what that one is?” He asked.

    “No, I don’t know very many of them. Most of them you have to use your imagination to be able to see what they’re named.” I paused for a moment before adding, “You know, God, He holds all the stars in place by the power of His might. He has called them all by name.” (Isaiah 40:26 and Psalm 147:4)

    We continued in conversation while the stars slowly began to fade. The sun would soon outshine them completely.

    I reflected on the two lessons I learned that morning as we drove home.

    The first is that we must pour.

    Each moment in our life is an opportunity to pour or dip from someone else. My prayer for us, is that we will look at our own life, not as having a deficit but as having an abundance and that we dip deeply and pour lavishly into someone else’s life. It could be as simple as a phone call to an old friend. There could be a shut in you know that you could take a meal to. You might leave coins at the quarter machine for the next child that comes by. Or like me, maybe you’ll find yourself looking up at the stars.

    The second is that all we really have is this moment. Right now.

    We run through life in such a rush to get to the next moment, that we have robbed ourselves of the beauty that this moment held. Days and years fade as quickly as the stars at dawn. I am reminded of James 4:14 KJV that says, “Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.”

    As I learn to embrace the moments of life, I am finding such a richness in the days that is hard to contain. I am grateful for this simple life moment that I took the time to stop and look at the stars. The lessons I learned because I chose to stop and be still with my son for a single moment changed my life forever. He poured into my life so completely, and he didn’t even know he was pouring! Isn’t that beautiful? He was tired and chose to enjoy the moment and he shared it with me, and he poured. My, how he poured.

    These slowdowns, the moments we pour are the treasure that so richly highlight this life we have been given. We must learn to embrace them in the fullest.

    Friend, I want to encourage you to slowdown and pour today, and you will find yourself in the center of contentment when you do.