Standing Guard

“What was your mother? A lioness! Among lions she crouched; in the midst of young lions she reared her cubs.”

Ezekial 19:2

“Eeaahhhhh!” came the distant cry.

“Did you hear that?” I asked the denful of sprawling kids.

“No. I’m sure it was nothing,” Alexis mumbled, not looking up from her knitting. Since the baby was playing on the floor next to me, he was ruled out as a possibility, and there was no way the new kittens could make that sort of cry. Besides, they were tucked away in the safety of my closet behind my wedding dress. Minutes passed before the second cry rang out, and this time the kids heard it. “EEEAAAHHH!”

Leaping from their chairs, the whole room scrambled to check on the kittens. Upon swinging open my closet door, our neighbor’s giant cat bolted out of the room as if his tail was on fire. Cat hair floated to the ground. Mama Cat’s hair stood straight up, and her eyes were like saucers. King, the neighbor’s immense male cat, had been locked in the closet with Mama Cat and her kittens. His hair stuck to her claws and lay in tufts all over the carpet. The kittens huddled together in the corner against the wall. How King got into our house and sniffed out the new little family will remain a mystery, but he will never try that again. Our small Mama Cat became the ferocious protector, courageously guarding her babies, thrashing and tearing away at King’s fur. King was dethroned. There will be a new respect for Mama Cat when she goes back outside to play.

Animals instinctively guard their young at all costs. What has happened to us as a human race? Where are our claws? If we don’t love and protect our children, who will? Are we foolish enough to think they will be safely cared for by the smooth-talking wolf? All mothers could learn from Mama Cat. There is a time for everything. Don’t be afraid to use your claws if the situation calls for it.

(Taken from Live, Love, Laugh and Laundry?)

Challenge: Do your children feel like they can trust you? Provide a safe environment emotionally for your children by not belittling their emotions or laughing at their dreams. Protect them from would-be emotional predators by allowing them to trust your confidence.

Could You Repeat That?

Sometimes I feel like a bird, a parrot to be specific. In order to keep all my people moving in the right direction, I repeat myself. I understand that this is a flaw in my own character, and if I were truly good at what I do, all my little people would obediently stay on task without me repeating every instruction and command. Either I have not obtained that level of respect yet, or all of my children struggle with sporadic deafness. Whichever is the case, I repeat myself. (Did I mention that?)

One day I looked at my teenage first-born and it appeared he was not doing what he was supposed to be doing, so I began to repeat myself.

“Mom, don’t repeat yourself!” Ethan said. “If you repeat yourself then I am not obeying you. If I am not obeying you, then I am displeasing the Lord,” he continued. “If I am displeasing the Lord then the world loves me, if the world loves me, then I am not a follower of Christ. If I am not a follower of Christ, I am an enemy of God.” He took a breath then finished.

“Mom, I don’t want to be an enemy of God, so PLEASE don’t repeat yourself.”

Needless to say, I have stopped repeating myself, so that he is not an enemy of God.  (And they wonder why I walk around the house mumbling to myself!) Who knew that the simple act of repeating oneself could lead to such destruction? KIDS!!

                         (Taken from Live, Love, Laugh and Laundry? by Terri Bonin)

Challenge: Have you trained your children to obey your voice the first time? Do you in turn obey and hear  the Lord's voice in your life as an example to your kids?

The Teller

As predictable as Houston weather are my Tuesday deposits.  Each week the drive-through window at our bank greets my big red fifteen-passenger van. Since the bank was recently bought out and the new staff was ushered in I have felt unknown, almost as if we moved and were starting over. I like to know my tellers, but because the change of guards came at a busy time for me, I had not made the effort to befriend my new neighborly tellers. Feeling anonymous with my tinted windows, I pulled up to the bank shaft, reached in, retrieved the tube, filled it with my deposit and replaced it into the shaft to be sucked back up over my car and into the teller’s hands. All the while I was on the phone with my seventeen-year-old giving him motherly instruction about money management and becoming a man when the teller interrupted, “Is this Terri Bonin?”

“Hold on, sweetie,” I softly said to my son so she would not think I was talking to her.

“Yes, do you need my license?” I leaned toward the speaker.

“No, don’t you have a seventeen-year-old son who banks here?” she continued.

Thinking, Oh no, why! but instead I said, “Yes,” while holding my breath.

“He is such a respectable young man. You should be proud. It is rare to see a young man his age so responsible.” She reported through the speaker for my son and anyone else to hear.

Whew! That was a close one. I am quite aware as the mother of nine kids that I am a breath away from being embarrassed or proud, or both on any given day. Today my son and I got a lift and I think we both needed it. Even though it is hard for me to practice 100% of the time, I have learned that a person will rise to the occasion of praise more often than they will crawl out from under the heaviness of condemnation. My oldest offspring and I laughed at the unexpected praise, said our “I love you-s” and “goodbyes” and went on about our day trying to be respectable and responsible. I wonder if there is a double meaning to the title “Teller”?

(Taken from Live, Love, Laugh and Laundry? by Terri Bonin)

Oversleeping

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning.”

Lamentations 3:22–23

Either I didn’t hear my alarm or I forgot to set it. Whatever the reason, the morning found me trying to cram forty-five quiet minutes into twelve. Then in came my seven-year-old. “Can I sit with you, Mama?” he asked, charming me with his tousled bed head and sleepy eyes.

“Of course, sweetie. I love when you sit with me while I’m reading my Bible and writing in my journal.” I scooted over to squeeze him into the chair and threw the blanket over him, putting my hot tea on the end table so we didn’t get burned. We snuggled in, and I turned my attention back to the passage I was reading. Then in came my two-year-old. “Sit in lap, Mommy,” he croaked in his sleepy voice.

“Yes, of course, Samuel,” I responded, putting aside my journal to make a little more room. Still optimistic about receiving a little inspiration before assembling the breakfast line, changing diapers, making beds, and dressing little ones, I tried to balance my Bible in between the two boys. Beau, my seven-year-old, was crammed in the chair to my right; Samuel, my two-year-old, was sprawled across my left leg; and my arms were around both of them—certainly a precarious position to be seeking inspiration from the Lord in, but this time is my lifeline to sanity. I forged on for a few more minutes underneath the burden of my wiggling boys. Then it started.

“Can you scoot over a little, Mama? I’m squashed,” whined the seven-year-old.

“I’m squashed too, sweetheart.” I tried to stay positive.

“More lap, Mommy!” demanded my two-year-old.

“No, baby, you are fine.” I was still trying to keep the balancing act under control.

I could see the situation was becoming hopeless when in toddled none other than my bright-eyed twelve-month-old. He looked at the two boys in my lap and, with outstretched arms, burst into tears. 

Down went my Bible, and up came the baby. The small chair now held four of us, and the end table held my Bible and journal.

“Lord, give me everything I need today to do all You have called me to do. I love you. Amen.”

“Who wants breakfast?” I proposed.

“Me!” the two- and seven-year-old cheered. The baby agreed just as loudly so as not to be left out again. Falling out of the chair, we scrambled to meet the other six kids in the kitchen, ready to tackle another day.

Challenge: How do your mornings look? Are you making time alone with the Lord a priority? Evaluate your schedule, and put Him first.

Gas Pains

“Blessed be the Lord! For He has heard the voice of my pleas for mercy.”

Psalm 130:2

Troy had not felt well for weeks—actually, months. He had this ache or that pain, and we all felt it with him. He is not one to suffer silently, and mercy is not my dominant spiritual gift. God has a sense of humor. The day had been nonstop, and I was taking some personal time to jog three miles in our gated community. Streetlamps lit the way as I traveled in stress-relieving circles praying, rehashing the day in my mind, and just sweating off the tension from the day. I stopped by the house to get a drink of water only to have Troy meet me in the kitchen. “I think I need to go to the hospital.” He groaned. “My side hurts. I think it’s probably my appendix.”

The last time he went to the emergency room for his appendix, the doctor told him it was gas and sent him home with gas medicine. Weenie, I thought. Why does he have to be such a hypochondriac? My husband needed a hug, and I needed a spanking.

“OK, honey. Just let me finish my run, and then I will take you. You do realize it’s probably just gas again?” Putting down my water bottle, I bounced out the door to finish my exercise. When I returned, Troy was gone. Oh good. He took himself. There’s nothing like waiting in an emergency room for several hours to be told you have gas. Twice.

After a while I called his cell phone to check on him. “They are admitting me. I’m going to have my appendix removed. Will you come up here?”

Feeling like wife of the year, I loaded the kids in the car and went to spend the next several hours at the hospital while he had his abscessed appendix removed. Well, at least those acute gas pains are gone for good! Hopefully the next time he has a real pain, I will have real mercy.

(Taken from Live, Love, Laugh and Laundry?)

Challenge: Has your heart been merciful to your loved ones? Ask God to search your heart and give you a genuine love for the needs of others.

Encouragent from a Friend

Below is a letter from a friend that I gifted with my book at Christmas. I'm so thankful the stories mean something to some busy moms. The goal was to encourage them, and yet I am getting encouraged in the long run! Go figure!

Terri, 


I wanted to thank you for the book! I love it! I am almost finished with it. I love your encouragements after each story. It is perfectly written for moms who have about 2 minutes max to read! One particular one that spoke to me, on the very day I needed it, was your admonishment to have grace and forgiveness on your kids. Some of your stories are so stinking funny. "Uncle Rudy" is so funny that I was laughing out loud! The one about your sweet neighbor couple giving your girls a dollar about made me cry. I am really enjoying it, Terri. I really thank you for thinking of me.

                  Love,

                  Shelley

Live, Love, Laugh and Laundry? is now available on Amazon.

http://www.amazon.com/Live-Laugh-Laundry-Terri-Bonin/dp/0741462508/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1294616224&sr=1-1

Uncle Rudy

Apparently my mom misses having kids in the house because now that we are all grown, she has obtained an extremely high maintenance dog, a Yorkshire. This is wonderful and all except for the fact that Mimi and Poppy, my parents, travel quite a bit. Since I never had a brother and her dog is like a son to her, my kids call him Uncle Rudy. “Here is his diaper bag,” Mimi said. “He has acid reflux and has to take a pill twice a day. If you don’t take him out right after he eats, you will be cleaning up a mess," the instructions just kept coming. "He darts off fast, so keep him on a leash, but don’t pull because he has esophageal problems and will start to cough. He will also cough if he does not take his medication on time," my mom continued. He has two sweaters in case it gets cold outside. He likes the red one better than the green one,” she continued.

Good grief! I thought. Good luck, Rudy, I hope we don’t fail you! but I said, “No problem, Mom. The kids will love taking care of Uncle Rudy, it will be a good bonding time.” Then I took her beloved dog and his belongings, kissed my parents goodbye wishing them a fun trip and prayed that I would not forget any of the instructions in between diaper changes and grammar lessons.

After a week of tricking Rudy into taking his medication, hiding it in this block of cheese or that piece of chicken, remembering to put his favorite sweater on him before his morning walk, or just remembering to take him on his walk… I knew why I was a cat person. Quickly the instructions became suggestions. When my mom called to check on Rudy, I suddenly became a child again desperately trying to hide something. With Rudy coughing in the background, I fled the room so she would not hear. Rudy was just as ready to go home, as we were to send him.

I have decided that a house full of toddlers has to be easier than a dog that must be shampooed and conditioned weekly; brushed, medicated and dressed daily! We are so happy my parents finally have the son they always hoped for; it is just not what we expected.

Good Morning

Walking sleepily to the kitchen I sensed something was different. Glancing to my right I saw a short, little person standing in the entryway of our home completely unclothed except for an overloaded saggy diaper. New to the neighborhood, I was unfamiliar with some of the habits of our new neighbors. Almost speechless, I managed to say, “Well good morning.” “What are you doing up so early?”

Speaking with a heavy lisp, the over grown four year old answered, “Can anyone pway?”

“Not right now, Sweetie.” “Everyone is still asleep.” “I bet your parents are looking for you.” “Now run back home before they miss you,” I strongly encouraged.

“Evewee one is asweep.” “It’s OK.” “I can pway now,” he insisted.

Trying a different approach to get him to go back home I said, “Shouldn’t you get dressed?” “It’s too cold for you to be running around without clothes on.” “Now go wake your mom and tell her you need her help.” As I watched him reluctantly agree and turn to walk back out the front door I thought, “How strange,” but went on with my morning routine. After making my hot tea and retreating back to my bedroom to put on my own clothes, I headed back to the den in order to have my morning quiet time. Standing in the entryway, once again, was the over grown four –year-old. This time he was holding a bundle of clothes in his hands for me to dress him. 

“Jimmy,” I said. “We will come and get you when it is time to play.” “Now go back home and wake somebody up so you can eat breakfast.”

Later when he was running around our house with my little ones, I dared to sneak into my office to work. The next thing I knew, his little chubby face was standing next to me. “I spiwelled juice in the kitchen,” he informed me.

“Thanks, Sweetie,” I responded, thinking that was nothing unusual in this house. However, when I walked into my freshly mopped kitchen, a pond of grape juice greeted me. Pausing. Pausing, so that I would not yell at this precious, red headed, freckled, 60 pound four year old, I thought about what his life might be like at home. Yes, I guess you could say his life flashed before my eyes. I had two choices, I could give him a loud lecture listing our rules on pouring grape juice, or I could show him kindness and clean up his mess with joy. Why does it seem like the right thing is always the hard thing? I started to give the loud lecture and then mid sentence decided to do the right thing. It sure would have felt good to lose it, but then I would have felt like a dirt bag and blown my witness to this little one.

When Jimmy grows up I hope he will remember that the big family across the street thought he was cool, because he is cool. In the mean time I think I will remember to lock my front door and put the grape juice up high.

“What is desirable in a man is his kindness,”

Proverbs 19:22

Kha Kha

It is a strange relationship. My husband and I thought we would kindly befriend a lonely, grumpy old man. We saw a great opportunity to teach the kids benevolence. Our new friend would offer us many occasions to take him on outings, make him dinner, offer him friendship. However, things are not turning out like we imagined.

His name is Kha Kha. He says it is French for grandfather and that is what he insists we call him. Kha Kha spends his days alone. Alone as far as human companionship goes. He has an over fed dog and some thoroughly pruned flowers. The heart of Kha Kha seems to be giving. He gives flowers to his neighbors, phone calls to anyone who will answer and he stays on top of all of our birthdays and there are eleven of us in my family. It seems if he did not have someone to give to his very heart would stop. I find myself driving out of my way to cut flowers out of his yard for my table because it will give him delight. I could pick them out of my own yard, but then I would miss his bright smile upon receiving his gift.

This grandfatherly figure will sit for hours in front of infamercials looking for just the right gift for each of my kids on their birthdays. When he found out that we were going camping, he dug through his attic for all his old camping equipment, dusted it off and loaded us up. Cooking on his old burners made me imagine what he must have been like as a young father on outings with his boys.

We thought we would be the givers in this relationship, yet somehow we are the receivers. Kha Kha does not need more stuff and his health is too poor for him to enjoy very many outings, but the benevolence is still there. It is being available to receive his gifts with joy. In receiving his generosity we are actually giving him the courtesy of being useful. The compassion in this relationship is being eager to accept his presents. While trying to give, I have found my cup is over flowing. Well, I've got to go do a good deed and pick up some homemade chicken soup from Kha Kha. Good Bye for now.