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Barren to Beautiful

Why Our Kids Need Us To Make More Messes 

Motherhood

27 May

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It was just the two of us last weekend. While “Daddy” was seven hours away, camping and climbing in the mountains, my two-year-old daughter and I stayed home with the mountains of laundry in the living room. On Saturday night, we were having a rather lame evening and were both feeling a little restless and bored and irritated with one another,  when suddenly: I had an idea. (It was what I like to call a “Fun Mommy” idea. You know, one of those ideas that matches the impulsiveness of a 13-year-old boy.) The moment I thought of it, I blurted it right out, “Hey! I know! Let’s set up the tent, and have a camp-out in your bedroom!”  

“Yay!! Yay!!! Yay!!” My daughter Selah cheered and jumped up and down. And then…I immediately regretted that decision. 

I suddenly envisioned the huge mess it was going to make. The pain of setting it up, and tearing it down. Not to mention the stiff back I’d have in the morning. 

“Wait,” I kept asking her, trying to undo what I’d just done,  “Are you SURE you want to sleep in the tent tonight?” (I don’t know why I thought she might change her mind, because the more I asked her if she was “sure,” the more excited she got, and the higher she jumped up and down.)

We were definitely setting up the tent. 

After I set it up, (and almost took out her eye with one of the tent poles, and nearly smashed the light on her ceiling while dodging her eye), I spread a few blankets and pillows in the tent and went to the kitchen to finish the dishes. And when I came back…every single stuffed animal and toy my daughter owns was in the tent. I mean we were at “FULL OCCUPANCY.” Her toy box was totally bare.  


“Come in Mama! Come in Mama!” she screamed. My jaw dropped. My eyebrows raised. “Wow,” I kept repeating, “Wow.” I didn’t know how to react. But then I saw her face…smiling with such intensity over what she had done. Convinced I would join in her pleasure.

And something just came over me. Maybe I do have the impulsiveness of a teenage boy, but I jumped in like it was the ball-pit at Chuck E. Cheese’s. And as I lay there, looking quite like Gulliver surrounded by the little village people, she squealed with delight. And then I did something I don’t often do: I actually played with her. I gave her stuffed animals names and characters and voices. I don’t often take the time to think up dialogue between a Cabbage Patch doll and a plush fox—but that night I did. And I think if she smiled any wider, her face would have cracked open.

And that’s when I realized: she loves this. 

She would not rather be doing anything in the world right now, than playing with me. Than burying me in toys. Than listening to me make stuffed animals talk. Because this is her world.

And she wants me to enter it.

She wants me on her level. To see the world the way she does. With excitement, and wonder, and possibility. But I’m 28 and she’s 2. And we don’t enjoy the same things. We don’t see the world the same way.

And she can’t understand why I like to sit still and read a book. Or type on the computer. Or clean the house. We enjoy totally different things. It’s like, my language is different than hers right now. And she can’t learn mine. I have to learn hers. I have to know how to speak to her. Because that’s the only way she will hear me. 

And right now, as much as I want to believe it, she doesn’t actually feel loved by a clean house. (I do.) She doesn’t feel happier when I’m tossing all her toys in the correct bins. (I do.) She wants the dogpile. And she wants the mess—if it means that I come with it.

I’m sure there are plenty of mom’s out there that can manage it differently, but for me and my house, I cannot show my daughter love right now unless a huge mess is involved. 

When My Biggest Messes Become Her Best Memories

My daughter loves tea-parties, and painting, and “helping” me cook. (Yikes!) She likes giant forts, and tents in her room, and going to the beach so that she’s covered from head to toe in sand by the time we leave. (Including every crack and crevice.) But these are moments we will look back and remember.

So, sometimes, what will mean a big mess for me to clean up, will mean a big memory for her someday.

When I was growing up, I’m sure my mother did a great job with our house…but quite frankly, I don’t remember. And when I think back to my happiest memories with my mom, or during my childhood, none of them involve anything “clean” or “tidy.” In fact, quite the opposite.

So maybe I need to stop. I need to stop trying to make it look a two-year old DOESN’T live in my house. Because she most certainly DOES. And so do all her toys.

And I need to stop avoiding fun activities, just because they are going to be messy. I need to embrace the messy activities, because those are the ones she’s going to remember and enjoy.

I’m not saying we don’t ever need to clean our houses…because we do. But, I know for me, it just somehow takes over. The desire for cleanliness, and order. I only have one child, but sometimes I feel like I have two. And my house is like this spoiled “firstborn.” I spoil her and fuss over her, and drop everything to make sure she’s “happy” (or organized.)

Meanwhile, my daughter begs for my attention. And I keep sending her away, because I feel I need to tend to my “firstborn.” I say, “Go play with your toys.” “Go to your room.” “Go read your books.”

Meanwhile, she waits.

And sometimes I forget that: I didn’t quit my job so I could stay home and take care of my precious house. 

I quit my job so I could stay home and take care of my precious child. 

She matters. What I do with her here every day–it matters. What I whisper in her ears as she falls asleep, the songs I sing to soothe her cries, all my made up lullabies. They matter. What she remembers about me, the way I made her feel—all matter so very much. Because my house could be bulldozed next week. But my daughter, will live for eternity. And the imprints I leave on her soul matter forever.

There are moments no one sees when I’m alone with her—but God sees them. And she sees them, and feels them all. And they all shape her and who she is becoming. I want to be a good “steward” of my house, but I want to be a better “steward” of this little girl. Who will grow up to be a woman, who will have her own thoughts and questions about God, who will have to choose between wanting a treasure that can be seen and praised by men, or hidden away in heaven with God. Who will have to choose someday between her house and her child. She will live in a world who cares only about outward appearances, and cares nothing for inward ones.

My daughter needs me. She needs to me to look her in the face, she needs my arms around her, and sometimes she just needs me to lay with her and be totally enefficent. And sometimes, she needs me to make a big mess with her—just to feel my love.

That night I slept in the tent on her bedroom floor, we did make a huge mess. And my back was sore the next day. But as we lay in the dark with the glow of Pillow Pets and flashlights and giggled and kissed and held each other close–a memory was made.

Someday she won’t be two anymore. She will be seventeen. And I will need to learn her language all over again. And when that day comes, she will need to know: I’m not afraid of her messes. And showing her my love might look different then. I doubt she’ll want a camp-out on her bedroom floor. I might even have to sleep outside her bedroom door, until she’s willing to open it. I might have to lay on her bed and listen to her music, long enough to learn all the lyrics. I might need to sit with her in her messy room, and listen to her cry. I might need to pull her close and tell her I made a lot of messes growing up, too.

But she was never one of them.

And I don’t see her just as this “mess-maker.” But as this beautiful “memory.” I will need to show her, whether she’s two or a teenager, that Love makes messes. And Love stays to clean up messes.

Some will spend their whole lives trying to avoid messes. But as for me and my house…we’re choosing to make messes. To love making messes. Messes so big, you can’t help but remember them.

 

child with paint on face

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Comments

  1. Rebekah says

    May 28, 2015 at 1:16 am

    perfect. (and i also have the impulsiveness of a teenage boy…keeps life interesting)

    Reply
    • Rebekah says

      June 18, 2015 at 12:06 pm

      Rebekah,
      sorry it’s been so long, but just wanted to say thank you! I’m really glad someone else out there shares my teenage boy impulsiveness! lol! Actually, since writing this, I have seen myself doing these impulsive things more and more! haha. Oh well! Go do something incredibly impulsive today–and have a blast. 😉

      Reply
  2. mrsmariposa2014 says

    May 28, 2015 at 2:00 am

    Yes! Embrace the mess! If I learned one thing teaching two’s and raising four of my own, it’s to jump in and play. My best memories are never attached to really pristine floors or picture perfect living room. They are in those times I dive in to the crazy messy fun! Thanks for this great reminder! Spot on, as always! 🙂

    Reply
    • Rebekah says

      June 18, 2015 at 12:08 pm

      Marisa,
      Sorry it’s been a long time, but just wanted to say thank you for leaving this sweet comment! It’s something I need to keep remembering—to dive in and make a big mess. Because those are the moments that we will always remember.:) I always enjoy your feedback and encouragement. Thank you so much!:)

      Reply
  3. Rachel Riebe says

    May 28, 2015 at 1:21 pm

    Beautiful. It’s true- messy activities are usually the ones they remember most because they are the most out of the ordinary. Good work mama!

    Reply
    • Rebekah says

      May 30, 2015 at 4:20 pm

      Thanks so much Rachel! Yeah, it seems the messiest activities are the most fun! Hope you guys get to make some big messes, and big memories soon! 😉 thanks for reading !

      Reply
  4. Cate Pane: The Clear Parent says

    May 28, 2015 at 1:48 pm

    What joy! Thanks for sharing your experience. Catie

    Reply
  5. Sharon says

    May 28, 2015 at 2:57 pm

    This post really inspired me after I read it last night. I realized my daughter (whom I had after years of infertility) was off playing on her own while her dad and I were otherwise occupied. I also like my house clean and organized and we had made a day of “cleaning” the house. I realized that some of my best memories were not cleaning as a kid, but when my mom let us build a tent under her table. So while my daughter was off in her room I pulled out all the dining room chairs and built a big “tent”. I then called her out and her face lit up with such joy!! We played until bedtime and are planning a picnic in it at lunch time today. Thank you for help reminding me of my priorities!

    Reply
    • Rebekah says

      May 28, 2015 at 6:04 pm

      Sharon, I LOVE that you did this!!! And that you actually put this messy love into practice! I am sure she loved it! I know it’s the harder thing to do sometimes, but entering into her joy like that can’t be replaced! Keep up the mess making;)

      Reply
  6. Sasha says

    May 31, 2015 at 5:19 am

    Rebekah, this is so good! I felt my heart pour right out as I read about your “camp out” together. And although perhaps off subject, but I wish me and my two could come hang out in your tent with you guys! We would have totally been there Saturday evening if not for the miles!

    You are such a great mom and Selah is so blessed to have you!

    Reply
  7. kerihans says

    June 6, 2015 at 10:03 pm

    This is so true and so necessary to be reminded of. Love this post!

    Reply

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Hi, I’m Rebekah Fox.

I was once a barren woman. I had a barren womb, and a very barren soul. But God saw me in my barrenness--and He delivered me. Not only of a barren womb, but a barren soul, too. He opened my eyes to His beauty all around me. And every day, I need Him to do it again, in my heart, and in my spirit. To take me from Barren to Beautiful. Because I am weak, and broken, and sinful, but He--He is beautiful. If the Spirit has led you here, perhaps He wants to take your barrenness away--and birth something more beautiful than you ever imagined.

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Rebekah Fox

barrentobeautiful

I help women struggling with infertility to hope in Christ and allow Him to transform them from barren to beautiful—on the inside. 🌸

You’re invited 🌿 The past 3 summers I’ve i You’re invited 🌿

The past 3 summers I’ve invited my readers and friends to join me in a social media fast—

and it has been extremely restorative and fruitful. 

I want to invite you to join me for this, because I have experienced how freeing this has been. It begins on June 1, but you could join whenever you are reading this.:)

There are two choices:
The Sprint—fasting June 1-July 1 🏃🏻‍♀️ 

The Marathon—fasting June 1-September 1 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

The thing is, while I love following so many of your beautiful profiles (especially those of you who write for the glory of God) the truth is, you’re not the reason I’m going. It’s everything else.

I’ve found that my soul needs breaks from scrolling, from information, from watching, and from the many voices and opinions, and the idolatry that I’m so prone to adore and replicate.

Summer has become for me, a beautiful growing time. A quiet time, and a hidden time. 

If you choose to do one of these fasts—you will miss out. You will miss out on the happenings in the Christian world, you will miss out on being seen, you will miss out on the latest controversy, and the latest debate. 

But what you will gain, is so much more. 

For you will discover the forgotten beauty of the secret place.🌿

This summer, let your greatest ambition to be this: to know Him.

Nothing could be more freeing.
Nothing could be more fruitful.

Abide in him, and he will abide in you. He is the vine, and you are the branches and apart from him, we can do nothing. 

It’s a practical move this fast. It feels like pruning shears. But he only prunes, to make us more fruitful. 

This is my last night here for a while. 

I just felt prompted to invite you on this adventure, too.🌿
I won’t see you, but God will see you. And that’s all that really matters.

The link in my bio will explain everything about how the fast works.

If you do need to get in touch, you can email me at barrentobeautifulblog@gmail.com

Happy summer!🌿

Photo cred: My daughter when we visited the @wildandfree.co Forest Cabin 2 summers ago 🌿
Early on in my writing for #ttc women, I realized Early on in my writing for #ttc women, I realized my blog posts were not enough. These grieving women needed more than a blog post, or a Facebook comment. The women with empty wombs and longing hearts—needed something to hold in their hands. 
Hope. 
They needed the hope of Christ.

I’m delighted to say my dear friends @jennmhesse and @kelramsey at @waiting.in.hope Infertility Ministry have brought this hope to bear in their new book, “Waiting in Hope.”

This is the book I would have read from the bathroom floor on the nights I wept for a baby and God felt so silent and far away. This was the book I wished I had walking the lonely journey of infertility—too ashamed to ask for help, or even prayer. 

If you are a woman #ttc let this book be the gift you buy yourself for this Mother’s Day. 

Like two, gentle loving sisters who have walked this path, Jen and Kelly will lead you to wait in Hope—for the One who himself is Hope.

He sees you. He hears you. 
And you are not alone. 
Not anymore. 

There is a beautiful community of women, full of faith, compassion, and hope that long to come around you at @waiting.in.hope . 

But you can start here, by reading these 31 reflections for walking with God through infertility. You will be so glad you did. I promise.

**a few notes about these pictures.
I wanted this book with my tulips because I have to wait so long through the winter for them to grow. They are to me, the symbol of hope each spring.🌷

Second, to get the book to lay flat, in pic #5 I had to open my hand. And it reminded me, of how infertility was a season of unclenching my fists, and opening my hands in faith and surrender and worship. Open hands are also the only posture for receiving. And I pray this book opens yours.

May this book bless you and infuse you with real, living, tangible hope. Which is, the hope of Jesus. 🌿

Purchase at 
@waiting.in.hope and follow this amazing community of support! #ttc #infertility #infertilityawareness #hope
Ah, the words I most needed to hear this morning—once again—come from God’s Word through the prophet Isaiah! A woe to those who are tempted to trust in FLESH and not SPIRIT. (That’s me!) And a call to return to the Lord, the Holy One of Israel. For he, too, is “wise and brings disaster.” 

I love what Alec Motyer writes in his commentary—which has counseled my heart so many mornings, but especially this one:
“The Lord never merely reacts to events as if sprung on him. He has prepared all beforehand is totally master of the situation.”

I encourage you to read Isaiah 31, and see Motyer’s notes here. See if your heart does tremble at the Holy One of Israel. See with what piercing accuracy the word of God penetrates your heart. 

And his final note—the blood of the lamb did not seem like enough for the Angel of death to pass over—but it was. His ways are higher than our ways, his thoughts are higher than our thoughts.

Whatever God says, is true, and right. He alone is God—He is totally master of the situation. More than we could ever know or understand. He is worthy of all trust, all praise, all worship. I remind you, as I remind myself:
Do not rely on the flesh, for what only the Spirit of God can do. 💛
💛 💛
“I invited you, but you did not come.” It see “I invited you, but you did not come.”

It seems like a love letter, sometimes, this book, raw, aching words—though they come from God. What we see here is an invitation and a reproof. I imagine it almost like getting a beautiful wedding invitation, saying “this is what we could have had,” but then at the bottom are the painful words, “…but you were unwilling.” 

You refused to trust me, you refused to come after me, and you frantically panicked and went after other gods—who cannot save you. 

I don’t mean to add anything that’s not there, just pondering this one line out of the whole chapter 30 of Isaiah. I’ve wanted to write this verse at the end of cards and letters, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength…” and just end it there. Except I cannot edit out the very heart of God to fit my nice letter of comfort. The reproof is attached, “But you were unwilling.” These words pierce my heart. 

And I only share them to marvel at the heart of God. To allow His words to be wielded, to let them pierce our hearts. Nothing is sharper than the word of God. And it is good to ponder His word—even when it brings a sorrow, it is a godly sorrow that leads to repentance. It stings sometimes, but we must read the whole counsel of God. We must not gut it of the difficult parts. For in it, God’s heart is exposed to us—and it’s a heart so loving as we’ve never seen in anyone on earth. (Except, in the person of Jesus Christ!) 

Shortly after this, the Lord calls his people back, so tenderly it brings me to tears. What kind of love is this? What kind of God is this? Surely one who is worthy of our whole hearts, and whole lives, and ALL of our trust. 

Let us stay close to His Word, that we may know his heart. Nothing is more piercing or precise for today. He knew what He was doing when He breathed out these living words. We need them. They are life to us—for they lead to HIM. That we may know HIM as He is, and not merely as we think Him to be. 🧡 He is more wonderful than I ever thought, and still far greater than I know. I cannot probe the depths of His heart, and yet, through His word and Spirit, He probes the depths of mine.
Oh, listen to what God says in Isaiah 51:5-6! 
💛 

Lift up your eyes…

“…but my salvation will be forever, 
and my righteousness will never be dismayed.”
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