The Wisdom of Simple Prayers

The Handsome Aging Husband had to go slow in his relationship with The Three Little Girls. Father-figures weren’t safe. And he did. But there came a time when it seemed natural for him to tuck The Three Little Girls into bed at night. So, he did.

Then one morning after such a time, the eldest of the three, the eight-year-old mother, came bounding into the kitchen, a smile lighting her face. “Last night when Uncle Ken was praying, he thanked Jesus for making me special and asked Jesus to keep me safe. I liked that.”

 

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And the Mother of the Cottage smiled. She liked that too.

If you would like to continue read more stories by the Mother of the Cottage, AKA The Second-Hand Mother, please subscribe to Carolyn's new blog here. She will continue to address issues for survivors of sexual abuse at Tamar's Redemption beginning this fall.

The Wisdom of Slow

It’s been five years since The Mother of the Cottage said, “Yes,” to the Lord of the Heavens and opened her home to The Three Little Girls.

Five years.

Time. Where does it go? In those five years, I’ve moved from my early forties to the later. Fifty is approaching. Fast and furious. Crazy!

And the girls are growing. Growing in stature. Growing in trust.

They didn’t trust us when they came. Nor should they have. I knew this going in. Each reaction, each day, was going to be a test. And sometimes I passed. Sometimes I failed. I knew in my heart of hearts that as much as I wanted to be a healing balm, I am not the Healer. I would add my own flaws to the mix.

I pray they are few.

My husband’s exam was even more challenging. He had to go slow. Slow to speak. Slow to react. Slow to touch. Father figures weren’t safe.

So he went S.L.O.W.

And one day he received his blessing for slow.

The eldest, she saw much, experienced much. The protector of her little sisters. The eight-year-old mother.

We were hanging out on the deck of my sister’s vacation home. Playing a game. Our older kids doing their thing. Acting out words, so others could guess.

That’s when I witnessed his blessing—the A on his exam.

And it took my breath away.

 

She was giggling. A joyful, no holds barred moment. And just as naturally as all my kids, she forgot her reserve and hopped up on his lap, her arms surrounded his neck.

And, for me, time stopped … just long enough to capture a memory.

 

 

If you would like to continue read more stories by the Mother of the Cottage, AKA The Second-Hand Mother, please subscribe to Carolyn's new blog here. She will continue to address issues for survivors of sexual abuse at Tamar's Redemption beginning this fall.

The Story of the Second-hand Mother

 Once upon a time there was a mother, who loved shoes, and lived in a

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cottage with her Handsome Husband. And, yes, she had so many children, she didn’t know what to do. One child had dyslexia, another ADD, another ADHD, and still another apraxia of speech. She loved and cared for each one, grieving their losses, celebrating their victories. She watched them grow. They turned into Three Fine Young Men and One Special Young Lady. And the mother smiled, her job nearly done. So she made plans for her future.

Then the Lord of the Heavens said, “Oh, not so fast, Mother of the Cottage. I will send you three more children to fill your home.”

But the mother cried, “I’m older. Have you seen my gray hairs? Lord, do you have any idea how hard it is to be a parent? And besides, I can finally afford more shoes. Surely you’ve chosen the wrong mother!”

But the Lord of the Heavens said, “Do not fear. I will be with you.”

Then Three Little Girls, with broken dreams and sad hearts, but sparkly bright futures, came to live with the older Mother of the Cottage and her aging husband.

Each day, the mother asked—no, she cried—to the Lord of the Heavens for wisdom, patience, mercy, grace, forgiveness.

Time passed. Then something mysterious and marvelous happened—the Mother of the Cottage, her Handsome, Aging Husband, the Three Fine Young Men and Special Young Woman fell in love with the Three Little Girls. And although the Mother of the Cottage still cries out to the Lord of the Heavens for wisdom daily, she knows in her heart there is nothing more important she can do with her future. And she surely doesn’t need more shoes.

And this is the beginning of the story of the Second-hand Mother—a momma parenting for the second time around.

 

Twice upon a time . . .

 

If you would like to read more stories from the Second-Hand Mother, please subscribe to Carolyn's new blog here. Carolyn will continue to address issues for survivors of sexual abuse at Tamar's Redemption beginning this fall.