My precious son is getting married. In three months, three days, he will be officially grown and gone. We are beyond happy with his choice of bride and feel that she is one of those blatant answers to my prayers that God would do far more than we could ever hope or dream or imagine. We are blessed, indeed, with the maturity and godliness we see coming from those two. They love Jesus. And I thank my Jesus each day for that abundant answer to my prayers.

But there is one thing that the enemy of my soul keeps bringing up in my mind as I reflect on his growing up years. And though it may sound silly to most reading this post, I believe that some of you will relate.

I didn’t make it to all of his games.

There. I said it. For some reason, that is the source of my Mama Guilt. You see, I always envisioned myself front and center at every event each one of my children would participate in. I thought I would be “that mom”. The one who volunteered to be homeroom mom. (This only happened three times in all my children’s combined school years, which so far has equaled 62 school years, given the whole seven kids and all.)

I thought I would be the one with the healthy snacks, the homemade valentines, the carefully prepared lunches, and of course dinner on the table every. single. night. Instead, I was the one who sent the tacky valentines, most often signed by me because it was quicker. I was the one who used paper plates so I wouldn’t have to wash the dishes. I was the one who made my kids fix their own sack lunches if they didn’t want to eat in the cafeteria, because let’s face it, it is far easier to give them lunch money (or now prepay online!) than it is to go to the grocery for all the special requests they have, prepare the what they actually want to eat for lunch, and do it all before 7:25a.m. Nope. Didn’t happen at my house.

Recently, there was an article circulating around entitled “Why Parents Should Go to All of Their Kids Games”. Each time I saw it being shared I cringed. That Mama Guilt would rear its ugly head and throw fiery darts at my mind. Because guess what? It is too late. I can’t go back and go to every game.

Actually, it wasn’t that I totally agreed with the article. I think supporting our children should be an upmost priority. However, I think the mentality that we should drop everything and focus solely on them has potential to create self-centered adults. It also has the potential to create unrealistic expectations for them when they are parents. But the truth is this: I just couldn’t do it all. I wasn’t strong enough. I didn’t have enough stamina. I didn’t have enough emotional or physical energy to do it all. But maybe because I couldn’t do it all, my kids will receive some comfort when they come to the realization that they can’t do it all either.

That is the thing that rubs a raw spot in my mind. I couldn’t do it all. I tried, I really did. But having a lot of kids (or let’s face it, even if you don’t have a lot of kids) is very humbling. I was the late mom. I was the scattered mom. I was the one who missed the best play of the game because I was taking another child to the bathroom. I was the one who actually cheered an entire game for a child that was not my own, thinking he was the whole time. You see, they were built the same. Same weight, same height. And I had somehow forgotten that my son had been given a different number that year. He was supposed to be number 14. He had been number 14 from the time he was in T-Ball. But oh, no. They had to give the number 14 jersey to someone else that year—someone who was the same weight and height as my son. I am sure the other moms were wondering why I jumped up and cheered at every play of number 14 and sat silently eating my chips when my own son was up to bat. Lord, help me! I couldn’t do it all!

But when faced with that reality I hear a deeper truth whispering in my soul. Jesus comes softly, sweetly and calms my Mama Guilt. I hear him actually saying, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

“But, Lord, I yelled at my kids sometimes.” And I hear whispered, “But you also taught them about Me.”

“But, Lord, my words were sometimes impatient, even angry at times.” And I hear whispered, “But you spoke My words over them every day in prayer.”

“But, Lord, I wasn’t at every game”. And I hear whispered, “But I was. And because you pointed them to Me, they knew they were never forsaken.”

“But, Lord, I wasn’t the perfect parent that I always imagined I would be.” And I hear whispered, “But I am the Perfect Parent. Because you weren’t perfect, they relied more on Me. Because you pointed them to the Perfect Parent, they know Me. In your weakness, I am strong.”

And with those whisperings, my mind and heart settles. Yes, there were things I would have done differently. But I know my children know I love them. They know Jesus in a personal way. They love me and more importantly, they love Jesus. So, I guess in light of that great truth, the other one—the Mama Guilt truth—simply doesn’t seem so important after all.

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.

                                                                                    3 John 4

Thanks to our good friends at First Presbyterian Church in Corinth, Mississippi, my husband, Mont, and I had the opportunity to teach Sunday school for the month of July.  We loved the fellowship with friends, old and new.  We also loved the fact that it made us study the particular topic we chose to teach.  For the month of September, I will share the content of that study, which we first shared with our Corinthian friends.

Join me tomorrow, September 1, for a month long study entitled, Abundant Life–Gifts of the Good Shepherd.  And please invite your friends!

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Thanks, Friends!

Sara

It is sad to say, but another school year is about to begin.  At our house we are scrambling to finish summer reading, shocked once again that our good intentions of finishing that assignment early did not pan out.

Once I wrap my brain around the fact that my beloved summer is coming to a close, I always get a little bit excited about school starting back.  I like the routine.  It feels like “New Years” much more than January 1.  My teacher genes kick in and I start making mental lists of all the things I want my kids to learn.  Yes, if I am not careful, I can be one of those over-achieving moms who wants to teach her toddlers to recognize famous paintings.  But most of all, I want my kids to have integrity.  I formed a whole company around that desire.  (www.integritytime.com, if your are interested!)  So, character lessons are of upmost importance in my heart.

I remember the day when the high-pitched sound of little girls playing found its way down the stairs and into the living room. Wow! They are having fun! I thought somewhat nervously. A bit later, my almost-four-year-old, Sally, came into the room urgently requesting water. “You have to come now, Mama! We need water.”

A little while later, I walked with my mouth wide open, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. Apparently, the girls had found an extra large bottle of baby powder and had turned the upstairs into a “winter wonderland”. Circles of white were found on every surface of the once-brown hardwood floors, evidence of the fun time of “skating” they had just experienced. Anna and Elsa would be proud.  Puddles of milky-white water were also evidence of their attempts to clean up their mess.

The floor was mopped six times, and it still looked like a winter wonderland, although more like the snow dusting typical in North Mississippi. How can three little girls do so much damage in such a short amount of time? Obviously, we had an opportunity to teach some character lessons to our precious princess.

At a very early age, Sally is learning that just because it is fun, does not mean that it is right. She is learning how to ‘fess up to her mistakes, and how to take responsibility for her choices. She is learning how to clean up her messes, and make right what went wrong. Most importantly, she is learning how to say, “I’m sorry”—not just with words, but also with feeling. She is learning to take “I’m sorry” to the final step, by also asking, “Will you forgive me?” And of course, the answer is a responding yes!

Character lessons start at a very young age. As parents, we are daily confronted with teaching moments. If we see these situations as teaching moments which will help mold our children’s character, we will be less likely to react in anger and more likely to make the most of the situation.

As we sat on the couch, discussing the situation with our sweet angel, I had an unexpected feeling considering the moment we were experiencing. I felt extreme pride. She sat with her dark hair streaked with white powder, eyes wide and serious. And the first thing out of her mouth was, “I’m sorry. It was my fault.” Bingo! That is a life-long lesson learned. Well worth the bottle of baby powder it required.

I have often heard, and I whole-heartedly agree, that character is how you act when no one is watching. But I believe it is more than that. Character is how you react when you know you are wrong. Character is admitting you are wrong and taking full responsibility. Character is saying, “I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?” Character is tested and proved in how you react to wrong choices as much as it is choosing what is right.

I am happy to report that Sally is back on the right road of character, at least until the next “teaching moment”.

How do you teach good character to your children?

PS If you want to check out a biblical approach to teaching integrity to your children or grandchildren, check out my program, Integrity Time Bible Lessons!

Integrity Time Bible Lessons

This letter recently appeared in North Mississippi Parent magazine.  I thought that this holiday weekend would be the perfect time to share it.  Happy 4th!

Dear America,

First, let me say, you are beautiful. There is no other like you on the face of the earth. You were created by God and for God to be a force of good and righteousness. I love you, America.

I have had the great opportunity to travel to many countries all over the world. And there is no place like home. The feeling of touching down on American soil always brings a smile and a happy sign—Ahhh, I am home! I get the same feeling no matter if I am landing in Miami, New York, Atlanta, or Chicago.

I celebrate you, America. I want you to remember the foundation on which you were created. It was a good foundation, a righteous foundation. It was born in the hearts of men who dared to look ahead to future generations—to us. They were willing to give themselves for our sake.

Last year, I got to see my sweet little Asian in her end of the year preschool program. She sang and danced and jumped up and down. I was a proud mom, and just as every mother there felt about her own child, I secretly thought mine was the cutest.

The program had a patriotic theme and at one point I got a little misty-eyed when they sang This Land Is My Land.

This land is your land, this land is my land

From California, to the New York Island

From the redwood forest, to the gulf stream waters

This land was made for you and me

As I was walking a ribbon of highway

I saw above me an endless skyway

I saw below me a golden valley

This land was made for you and me.

I looked at the huge group of adorable children and saw not only precious American-born babies, but also saw some of Sally’s best friends including Sophie, also from China and Lucy, from Ethiopia. And yet, this land is their land.

Of course they don’t know what that means. They don’t realize how different their birth land is from the land which is now theirs. And maybe I don’t even know what that means for me, or at least I don’t take the time to think about it.

This land is my land, this land is your land. America is ours. We can say that because we have the freedom to say that.

Do we have any idea what it means that we can freely think, live, decide, determine, be what we want to be?

Do we have any idea what it means that we can love, and worship, and share, and speak truth?

Do we have any idea what it means that there are those who have fought and even died for us to be able to say and sing: This land is your land, this land Is my land?

As we celebrate the Fourth of July, let’s really remember this time. Let’s don’t just cook burgers and hot dogs. Let’s don’t just shoot fireworks or enjoy our time with family. Let’s really remember. And let’s thank God for the gift of this land.

So today, America, know you are loved and appreciated. Know that you are prayed for daily by me and countless others. Remember your great heritage and pass it on to the next generation.

God bless you, America.

Sincerely,

Sara Berry

PS:

1. Parents, what are you doing to pass down love for our country, love for freedom? Would your kids say you love America? I think we need to fall in love with our country all over again. And then we need to pass it on to our children, so they can pass it on to theirs ….

Here are some practical ways you can show you love America.

1. Vote. This is your right and your responsibility. I have known many people who will not vote because none of the candidates fit their exact list of qualifications. But we must realize that someone will win elections. And we can do our part in voting for the candidate that best fits our values, even if it is not a perfect fit.
2. Always put your hand over your heart during the Pledge of Allegiance and the National Anthem. ‘Nuff said.
3. When you see someone in the military, stop and shake their hand and say thank you. My son, Troy, actually taught me this one. When he was thirteen, we were in a store, in a hurry as usual. He stopped suddenly and turned to go down an aisle. Quite honestly, I felt irritated—didn’t he know we were in a hurry? Then the irritation turned to pride when I saw why he had turned. He walked up to a man in fatigues, held out his hand, and said, “I just want to say thanks for all you do for us.” Sometimes our kids understand better than we do.
4. Pray for our country. Everyday. Especially now. And pray for yourself and your children–and me and my children–that we all would understand what we have before it is too late.

There is an old adage which states, “Few are privileged to enjoy the shade of the tree that they have planted.” But plant the tree anyway. We must plant the seeds of patriotism in our children and then future generations will enjoy its shade.