Why in the world would they be eating bugs?

I lined up the pancakes two by two, they lay still upon the warm cook top.  I stood back to see how many breakfasts it would make and I was a little surprised.  There, in the middle of a messy kitchen batter-filled morning, God lined up truth on my Mother's Day.

My heart fluttered a little bit back to an African mother I fondly call the "bug lady".

Sigh...you know my heart sighs a lot.  I'm still trying to figure out why.  I think it's impatience really.  In this season of motherhood, God is teaching me some holy patience.  It was on that morning that the bug lady's memory kept bugging me.

Really.  Okay, with all this hitting my heart, where exactly do I start?

Reality pulls me back to explaining the line of pancakes.  I just spent some extended time with my daughter, her newborn Clarke, and my little man Avery (Clarke's big brother).  Avery's favorite breakfast feast is pancakes.  To help ease into morning feedings for my daughter's children, I lined up some of Avery's breakfast favorites, pancakes and chocolate muffins.

While doing this simple task of motherhood, God surprised me with thoughts about the bug lady.   And all this happened on Mother's Day, when I was mothering a mother.

The pancakes are made and neatly tucked into the freezer for moments when only pancakes will do on a Colorado morning.  Enough said.  There are no rewards in making pancakes by the dozens except that it's done.

It's for the love of pancakes that I sigh.  I'll do anything short of sin to help someone be a great mother.  I learned that from the bug lady in Swaziland Africa.  That hot day, as she was eating bugs (no joke) she surprised me with her sacrifice of motherhood.

Yes, that day my heart sighed a little too, in the surprise of sacrificial motherhood at work.

Let's journey back on that day in the middle of no-pancakes rural community of Africa.  It was that day I looked motherhood face to face to understand that mothering happens where God plants us, His compassionate filled hearts, yes, even in Africa where mothering is so needed.

My friend Beth and I bumped into motherhood in a big way as we were greeted along the way, the long way, the dusty way to her CarePoint to meet and greet the kiddos.  The boys and girls ran alongside the car the entire length (what was probably one-fourth of a mile) to bring welcome smiles and joy to our arrival.  At the small cement-block building stood the greeting committee, comprised of three cooks-caregivers-teachers-mothers.  They were eating bugs.

Yes, they were eating bugs.

One said they were "delicious", the other said so "nutritious", the last said "I like the way they crunch on my tongue."  I kind of threw up a little in my mouth.  Why in the world would they be eating bugs any day?

It's their choice, but I think they really prefer them fresh crawling out of the ground.  It's so amazing how God prepares your heart for truth.  It's their choice as mothers to like bugs and find them delicious.

They choose to eat bugs so that food that they prepare will go farther for those they mother.  

And there you have it, and my heart is sighing again and surprised at the motherhood of the "bug lady".  What really surprised me most about her was the surprise of sacrifice.  And God reminded me of sacrifice on this particular Mother's Day on a snowy (yes, it snowed on May 11 in Denver, Colorado) Mother's Day.

You should have seen the look of surprised when I asked her the question "What would this community be like if there was no Children's Cup CarePoint?"  The shocked look on her face, would've indicated she just swallowed a bug whole.  Her surprise at the question made me gulp hard like I had just swallowed a bug whole.  I immediately thought I had asked a question that was culturally inappropriate.

Her response revealed her mothering.  Her response showed her compassion, her response broke open her passion.   What surprised me was her sacrifice was bleeding a bit, and it melted my heart.  The memory of what bugged me that day was the depth of her response.

She replied, "They would all be thieves!"  Her motherly heart showed in her surprise, her motherly reply broke open my heart's sacrifice.  The depth of her heart peeled back a layer of mine, as she swallowed hard the daily sacrifice of motherhood for a motherless community.  Her nurturing influence was beaming for those whose mothers were stolen by life's circumstances.

She surprised me with her sacrifice to motherhood.  I fought back the tears and gulped again.  I lined up the pancakes to tuck them away in the freezer.  Mothering in any language only requires one word that leads to the sacrificial surprises of life.

Her love to mother those who needed mothering surprised me that day in Africa, a holy kind of love that loves especially knowing there will not be anything in return.  A kind of love that covers so many needs in a dry, and what seems a little Sahara-like and barren of love, a love that completes the missing pieces of their little and young lives, a love that wholly fills those empty places in their bodies, and a most holy giving till it hurts kind of love that heals.  

A love matters and the surrender in giving it completely is the batter of sacrificial love.  It's not about being that one great mom that makes a mark in time for outstanding service to the world.  It's about sacrifice, it's about making pancakes for someone because you love them, it's about those surprisingly holy moments of how to mother better, putting your own needs aside to mother the motherless.

It's all about mothering wholly, in the most holy way, to those of us who are thieves.

It's about receiving Love to share love.  Love that simply mothers in no other way but eating bugs and making pancakes on a snowy morning.

That's when lovely motherhood can surprise you and make your heart sigh.  

Why God made my mother

My mom and dad 

For some reason I have been a bit reflective this mother's day weekend over most years.  I have a lot of reasons to be thankful for my mom as she has taught me so many things.    When I was a child she spoke a lot of whimsical sayings into my life that apparently are unique to only our family.  Like...

..."We'll worry about that tomorrow, and if tomorrow doesn't come, we don't have to worry about it."  Or this one..."If everything in life was as easy as doing the dishes, then we wouldn't have any problems." Neither one really resonated with me.  Because I learned worry from my mom and I grew up hating to do the dishes.  In fact, I believe in owning a dishwasher before buying plates.  Dishes are serious work.

God makes mothers with the nature to nurture.  God made her to take care of me, the youngest of three.

My mom has taught me many things like how to make melt-in-your-mouth homemade rolls and to be patient when sewing a dress seam for the third time (my first dress literally fell apart at every seam).  The fancy footwork of beating boys at kickball, Hide-N-Seek and Kick the can (Remember those games you play outdoors?).  She taught me a love of beets, the art of spitting watermelon seeds, and how to make meringue (I still can't do that last one).

She taught me to cook a birthday cake out of a dutch oven, how to roast a perfectly burnt marshmallow and where to touch a tent to make it leak.  The best entertainment for a man on a camping trip is a hand saw.   That kept my dad busy cutting wood for the campfire for hours.

She taught me that an angel food cake with sprinkles makes for really special days, and that Midge only needed Barbie and Ken as close doll friends.  She showed me we had our name on the same church pew on Sundays and that we be in place each and every time the doors were open, rain, sun, sleet, or snow just like the USPS.

She taught me faithfulness, a hard work ethic, and loyalty while working three jobs at once.  She cleaned my messes at the daily dinner table as I spilled my drink and my tears.  She would open her kitchen to the neighbors kids and give them cookies and sandwiches.  She taught me how to be fair, as I missed recess because I wouldn't eat one bite of that yucky canned plum business.  (Why would you ever put a plum in a can?)

She taught me to how to overcome during her season of breast cancer quieting the fear of that dreadful disease.  She taught me how to be pretty when she made the extra effort to get the extra wide shoes for my little chubby foot.  She taught me kindness in the face of cruelty from those who picked on me in school.  She taught me to look up when you didn't know which direction to go.  God will always show me and remind me that I am special.  She educated me in the school of nature with the birds and the stars.  She showed me the power of prayer.

I will remember my mom for how she taught me generosity.   She gave so much of herself to others that she never got on the to-do list herself.  She is slowing down some as she quilts and she spends most of her days watching her favorite baseball game on TV, her favorite team being whatever game is on at the moment.

She taught me compassion with a pair of Red Ball Tennis shoes.   She showed me how to be a mother.  She showed me unconditional love.  She welcomed me with my fears and failures.  She showed me the face of Jesus.  Generously and that's something I will treasure forever.

That's why God made my mother, to mother me.  I love you mom.

Five Minute Friday - Beauty

A Mother's Day Knockout!

I was given a great gift for Mother's Day this year.  

My kids found a list of honey-do's that I wrote several years ago.  

It was long list.  ~  It required some extra cash.  ~  It required extra time.

My kids love me so.  The gift was so simple.      

 They knew that I wouldn't make time for tasks on my honey-do list.  

They planted some flowers and made two new flower beds. 

 In this one gift.... they brought beauty back in.  

Beauty is now the first thing that greets me when I come home.    

When I look at it, beauty allows my escape from the troubles of the day and brings a smile to my heart.  God's beauty helps me to not take life so serious.  It brightens.

I am so proud of them for knowing how this gift would help and show love.  

Beauty has been unspoken for a while.  Oh how I crave more.

When God brings beauty into your life, embrace it.  

Isn't always simple and unexpected?  

It heals hurts more than you can imagine.  

Beauty revives my tired soul.  

Give beauty to someone who needs a smile.  

Their need for beauty is unspoken too.  

God's got plenty of beauty to give.