I was supposed to finish this post on Sunday but I was hungover. I’m not a drinker, but when I eat foods with sugar in them, I get a really bad headache the next day. I get sugar hangovers. Since Sunday was Mother’s Day and my husband made me Creme Brulee French Toast, I indulged to the point that I spent the next day chugging a gallon of water and binge watching on Netflix. Not pretty.
Patient as a Mother
I’m going to be honest right now. I’m not much of a cuddler. I don’t particularly like to be touched. I don’t like scavenger hunts or homemade crafty stuff. I feel pretty guilty about being that way. So now you know my secret shame. This whole week I noticed all the times I snapped at my kids. I noticed what a flawed mother I am. It all seemed to be accentuated. My motherly failures were flaring up. There were definitely moments this week when I felt like I didn’t deserve anything for mother’s day.
My daughter Kalena made a scavenger hunt for me. She caught me at a moment when I actually had time to do it and couldn’t make any excuses. I was getting so impatient. Not because I wanted to find the gift she had hidden for me but because I wanted to be doing something else. And it got me thinking about my Mom. My mom patiently sat through every one of the plays I produced (at home with my only cast member being my sister Marissa). My mom had piles and piles of art from me that she kept. Mom would do the scavenger hunt. She’s good like that. So I took a deep breath and patiently searched through the clues–the way my mom would’ve done for me–and eventually found it. She had made me a bracelet. One that she painstakingly put together by hand. Colorful beads and a heart with the word love on it. It was very sweet. I’m glad I didn’t end up saying something dumb like, “Kalena, I don’t have time for this. Can’t you just give me the gift?!” I dodged a bullet on that one! Thankfully, I’m still taking my mother’s advice.
Healing at the Pavilion
On Tuesday night we headed over to the first pavilion to do our Pizza Night ministry. Every night, the team from YWAM prays beforehand and asks God what He wants to heal that night. On this particular Tuesday, the words included “shoulder” and “achilles heel”. While RK was announcing these words he had a thought that the person with the shoulder injury had become injured when he fell on it. It turns out, the guy had fallen while snowboarding. Another guy said he had ankle pain. When RK prayed for him, all the pain just left. RK told him that healing is a gift from Jesus because He loves you and cares for you. The guy was like,”I’m good with Jesus but I can’t stand organized religion.” To which RK responded, ” Yeah that’s how Jesus was, too. The religious people are the ones who had Jesus killed.” One of the guys from YWAM ended up having a good conversation with him about Jesus.
I just have to take a second to talk about my husband RK. For years, I’ve expected him to simply read my mind and know exactly what I want for Mother’s Day (and every other special occasion for that matter). For years, I assumed that he knew that I would want flowers on certain occasions or that I expected a gift on anniversaries. I was often shocked that he didn’t think about these things or even accept them as normal, standard expectations. But I finally got wise. My sweet, loving husband doesn’t think about gifts or flowers. Period. So now I just tell him exactly what I’ve dreamed up in my head. I tell him I’d like to go on a shopping spree at TJ Maxx and long stem gardenias from the Farmer’s Market for Mother’s Day. I tell him that I want Creme Brulee French Toast for brunch. And because I have a sweet, obliging husband, I got everything I asked for. And I’m smiling. Because I’m a romantic who married a pragmatist. And for years, I was upset that I didn’t marry a romantic. But then I wouldn’t have married RK. And I need RK. This dreamer needs that futurist. This romantic needs that pragmatist. This free spirit needs that consistent one. We are a good team. And as RK jokingly states, “You wouldn’t be a mother without me.”