Picking Blackberries

It is hot. It is blazing hot.

The berries are hidden deep in the bushes and I stand on tiptoe to reach them. Juicy, squishy ripe. Thorns catch and scratch. Here they are, berries for you! Taste the tangy, summery goodness! Enjoy this glorious moment with me!

She takes them in her hand... And drops them on the ground, stares dully down.

Sigh, child, why would you do that? Don't you know I pricked my fingers getting that for you? Aren't you thankful?! Be thankful! Make this moment a nice one!

Voices bang around, rattling the brain, skewing perceptions.

Her eyes, it's in her eyes. She is so tired. A long hot day. The beginnings of a fever. She's fighting something off. The berries were heavy to her. Sometimes gifts are heavy and love seems too much.

Mainstream parenting says Fine! You don't want it? You won't get it. Ungrateful. I'm not picking it up, not playing your silly game!

But servant leadership says give. Give if they aren't thankful for the gift. Give if they trod it underfoot and laugh in your face. Keep giving. Bend the knee, open the hand. Open hands are open hearts. Understand, give the benefit of the doubt, have compassion, mercy, grace.

Do you know what Christ did for you? I mean, do you even?!

I bend and hand it back to her, head cocked. Is this just a game? If so, that's OK, I want to know where that is coming from, too. But this time her little hand lifts the berry to her mouth. The slow sweetness spreading into a smile on her face. A face which moments later sleeps soft against me, for indeed she was tired (and did end up sick that evening.)

How do I want her to respond to others? That is how I'll treat her. Kindness. It's just a little example, a teeny tiny one, really. Maybe even a silly one. But one of a hundred in a day. A million in a life time. And I hope it will add up to a lifetime of kindness to others.

1 Corinthians 13 Mom

Best friends look out for each other, they have each other's best interests at heart.

They give you support and room to grow.

They respect each other.

They wish to please, but aren't afraid to correct you when you've made a mistake.

They offer suggestions and advice, but most importantly a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.

They admit when they've made a mistake and apologize when they're wrong.

They forgive you when you need forgiveness.

They love you,
serve you,
care about you,
sacrifice for you.

A best friend is nurturing, she tends to your relationship.

A best friend laughs with you,
is gentle with you,
spends time with you,
is patient with you,
is kind.

Is this starting to sound familiar?

From 1 Corinthians 13~ " Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails... And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."

A best friend is the epitome of true love.

Like Christ.

I desire to be a Christ-like spouse, friend, and Mom.

Not only do I want to be my children's friend, I want to be one of their very best friends.

Striving

I am your Mama

I am your secret keeper,
Story teller, snuggle buddy.
I am your peace giver,
Protector of innocence,
Gentle shepherdess.

I am your Mom

Sandwich maker, fort builder,
Ouchie kisser.
Compassionate, I know you well.
Breathing the grace of the One
Who breathes it into me.
Patience, it's an art.

I am your Mother

Forgiver, for I need forgiveness too.
Teacher, as I am also being taught.
Helping hand, if it's wanted.
Watchful eye, if it's needed.

I am your Mommy

Here I am.
I am not perfect,
but I love you more than words can tell.

A Rain Poem

The Rainy Day Poem

Rainy painy pem
The rain falls in the glenn
Rainy painy pook
the rain falls on the brook.

Pitty pit pat
It splashes all around
Tippy tip tap
And sinks into the ground.

Bibble bobble bubble
The rain runs in the divets
And tinkle-drip it goes
Down the window pane
In riverlets.

Copyright Jacquelyn Bytyqi 2012

Brave

"I'm not brave like my sisters," She says it quietly, eyes downcast.
We returned home from the park a little while ago. I'm sitting on the edge of her bed, sensing she wants to talk.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"My older sister makes friends so easily, she just talks and plays with them, but I'm scared to. And all my sisters always are so..."
"Bold?" I help.
"Yeah, whatever they want they just DO it."
"Well, I don't think that means you aren't brave. You like to think about things before rushing in. That's good too. I'm just like you, when I'm around people I don't know I feel shy. That's ok, it means we need to get to know people better, to warm up, to start trusting them before we make friends. We like to feel safe. There is nothing wrong with that."
"Oh..."
"But you know what? I think you are very brave."
"Really? How?" She looks up, hopeful.
"Well, you were the first one to give your kitten to a new home, before either of your sisters. You also did it with a good attitude and a loving heart. Even though you knew you would miss her, you wanted her to have a happy life on the farm and for her new family to be happy with her. I think that was very brave."
"Oh yeah!" She's all smiles now, "I do miss her, but I'm glad she's happy."
"Exactly. Bravery doesn't always mean that you go rushing forward into something. Bravery means that you do the right thing, even when it is hard, and you are great at that."

Her eyes have their sparkle again and my brave little girl is running off to play with her sisters.