Unpredictable. I watch his face. Is he in a good mood or a bad mood? Will there be yelling? Throwing? Every day is a dance on eggshells. Never sure what will happen.
The Bible tells us that God does not change like the shifting shadows (James 1:17). No matter what others in our life throw our way, we know what to expect from God. His character is clearly defined in the Bible. No more eggshells.
“Pure joy.” To me those words conjure up images of children opening up presents, a good book, a day on the beach, or a full night of sleep. The phrase “pure joy” doesn’t make me think of cracked toilet tanks, wet carpet or a landlord who wants to blame me for the cracked toilet tank. Yet, the Bible gives a different picture on what we need to consider “pure joy.”
The first chapter of James begins, “Consider it pure joy, brothers and sisters, when you are faced with many trials. For you know that the testing of your faith produces perservernce.” Pure joy? What about when my children fight? What about teachers that don’t want to work with my special needs son? What about bullies? What about my life? Consider it “pure joy”?
A few days ago, I sat on the floor and cried to God. It was a day of too many trials and I had nowhere to go. I felt God wrapping his arms around me. Being in his presence was “pure joy.”
I remember when my boys were toddlers, they were always falling. Every time they fell, they would come to me. I would hold them, wipe their tears and speak tenderly to them. Those times were “pure joy.” I did not enjoy the tears, but I enjoyed the time spent with my child.
God is a good God. He doesn’t want to hurt us, but he wants to comfort us. Every trial can be a time to snuggle in our Father’s arms. Pure joy.
When the liars surround me, choking the truth, you hold me up with your right hand.
When others threaten to destroy those I hold dear, I hold onto you.
When my tears fall, you will cry with me.
When the mourning time is finished, we will dance and you will twirl me through the sky.
You are my beloved and I am yours.
© January 5, 2012 by Sarah Schwerin
The jealousy between my two sons has always been there and makes my life rather interesting. I remember an incident from about two years that still makes me chuckle.
I was in the car with my boys and we were istening to a book on CD, The Little Red Hen. After the CD, I heard my then four year old, pick up the book and begin to “read” the Red Hen’s reply to the other animals: “Then me will, said the big fat chicken.”
Then my sweet boy turned to his older brother who had just learned to read, “See I can read Andrew!”
The sibling jealousI strikes again.
My life is like a book. As you read, you hope there is going to be a happy ending. The cast of characters act haphazardly. You wonder how all the loose ends will ever come together. Everytime you think you have everything figured out, the answer alludes you. Keep reading, someday everything will work together.
My boys teach me a new lesson everyday. I am truly blessed to have two amazing young men as sons! Yesterday, my seven year old visited a nearby nursing home with our church. He eagerily told me the following:
“There were a lot of people in wheelchairs. We handed out mints. We helped the people. I really liked those people. They were nice.”
Did I mention that my son has autism? Did I mention that he has trouble focusing and displaying appropiate behavior at school? Did I mention that my son is one of the most loving people I have ever met?
I have a fantasy that replays inside my mind when my kids are at school. My phone rings. It is the school. In a cheery voice, a teacher exclaims, “Mrs. Schwerin, your son is a joy to have in class! His behavior is exemplary. His listening skills and attention span are superior. In all my years of teaching I have never encountered such a model student. You have done a wonderful job. I am going to nominate you for mother of the year!”
Schools don’t call to give you a pat on the back. When my oldest son went to preschool, the phone calls started and I began to dread seeing their number pop up on my cell. In the first few months alone, I received many notes and calls, all negative. He isn’t listening well. He didn’t get the treat this week because he wasn’t listening well. He had an accident and didn’t want to put his clothes on. He had a runny nose. Even though the call volume has decreased somewhat, I am still waiting for THE CALL. “Mrs. Schwerin, we have a special nomination for you…”
© September 29, 2011 by Sarah Schwerin
The first child I saw was a boy pushing a tire with a stick. Then I saw two girls eyeing us from the sidewalk where their mother was washing clothes in a tub. Other children gathered on the opposite side of the street. As we drove down the dirt road, the children grew more numerous. The driver parked the van. We continued on foot. Children seemed to be coming from every corner. Some came from the small mud shacks covered with tin. Their mothers and sisters eyed us with curiosity. Others came from playing football (American soccer) with their ball made from reclaimed plastic and twine. They all repeated the same phrase, “How are you?”
Our journey ended at the site of the future school. The children lingered near us as we talked and prayed. We made our way over to the one finished building. The children joined us as we stepped onto the dirt floor. We all gingerly stepped over a plant.
“It’s a mango tree,” I heard someone say.
When I remember my trip to the slum, I remember the mango tree and the children. I choose to see life. Life that didn’t choose where it was born. Life that struggles to grow.
©September 16, 2011 by Sarah Schwerin
Ever since I became pregnant with my first child, I changed. I am not talking about my hips or my stomach or anything else further south. (I prefer to complain to my husband about those changes.) Something changed inside me. The mothers at my baby showers knew. They all gave me a knowing look that made me a little scared. They knew about the “baby sickness” that had now infected me. My shopping cart broke out in little clothes and Winnie the Pooh paraphenila. It was all too cute to pass up. My sickness grew worse and harder to hide when my firstborn arrived. The irrational behavior began. I had to count fingers and toes and listen for the baby to breathe. Instead of going to the gym, I came up with a new routine: smell the baby, kiss the baby, talk about the baby, think about the baby, repeat indefinitely. I knew that I had a bad case of the baby sickness because I got spit on, pooped on, peed on, and vomited on and I kept coming back for more.
Twenty months after the birth of my first son, I gave birth to a second son. I now had twenty fingers and twenty toes to count. I had two little breaths to listen for and an incurable case of the baby sickness. Loss of sleep and stress accompanied my list of rapidly expanding erratic behavior. The most troubling behaviors I exhibited were those behaviors I told myself I would never do. I used my spit to clean their faces. I dressed them alike. I called them cutesy names. I talked to anyone who stood still about their bowel movements.
Last week, a shopping trip made me realize that I have finally gone over the edge. In the grocery store I was staring intently at a two year old who was throwing a horrible, “I want everything in this store and you better get it for me,” tantrum. He was doing such a good job he might as well have been one of my own boys. My moment came when I realized that my thoughts were a little odd. I was not harboring some of my pre-mommy thoughts (i.e. “What is wrong with his mom?” or “Somebody shut that kid up!”). I wasn’t thanking the Lord that he wasn’t mine. I was wishing that my children weren’t at school and that they were next to me. Never mind the times I complained to my husband about our grocery store trips. Never mind the times I promised to never take them shopping again. The change was complete. I had finally gone over the edge. I now knew what the ladies at my first baby shower knew. Motherhood is a crazy journey that will make you do things that you never imagined you would do. Thankfully, you will be infected for life.
© September 6, 2011 by Sarah Schwerin
Dear Friends and Family,
For three days, they rose early in the morning and went to bed late at night. Some had traveled all day to be there. Some had traveled many days. They came from different countries and tribes. Some had walked, while others came by car, truck, bicycle, or taxi. All of them listened for more.
Two years ago, I had the amazing opportunity to travel to Kenya and be a part of a conference for pastors, their families, and other church leadership. When my team and I would arrive in the morning, the singing and dancing had already begun. It was hard to not catch the enthusiasm that the African church had for the Lord. Speaking and small group sessions broke up the worship, but the feeling of joy and peace remained.
To make this year’s conference possible, please consider praying for:
In His Name,
Sarah Schwerin
To make a tax deductible donation, please make a check out to:
Great Commission Fellowship
P.O. Box 162 * Wilmore, KY
Memo: Kenya Missions (add pastor transportation, conference, or team funding)
