This week, a question from a mother of daughters, Rebecca:
Do you have any comments/thoughts on doing hope chests? Is this something you did? I like the idea to point my daughters’ hearts ahead to the time of their life when they will be investing in homes of their own, but not sure of how to forge ahead with this.
For those who may be unfamiliar—a hope chest is a tradition of purchasing and setting aside household items (such as dishes, flatware, kitchen appliances, bedding, heirlooms, etc.) for a daughter’s future home.
I did hope chests for each of my daughters with mixed results. It definitely served, as Rebecca noted, to point my daughters’ hearts toward the home. And in this day and age, I’m enthusiastic about anything that will encourage young women to glorify God by loving the home. However, styles and preferences for household goods change so rapidly that many of the items I purchased when my daughters were teenagers no longer appealed to them by the time they moved into their own homes.
If I had it to do over again, I would probably do a variation of the traditional hope chest. Instead of purchasing items, I would set aside money each year. When my daughter got married or bought a home of her own, I would take her shopping with that money to purchase the items she needed. It would be a special memory and also fulfill the practical need for household items. It’s not cheap to set up a house these days!
Let me emphasize that these thoughts merely come from my own personal experience. I am sure many women out there are far more creative than I am. However, I would want to encourage all mothers to think strategically like Rebecca. If not a hope chest, what are other ways you can encourage your daughter to love the home? How can you prepare her, practically and spiritually, to manage a home and possibly care for a family one day? Even though these skills might not be tangible—like a hope chest—they will be a valuable legacy for your daughter.
Yesterday was my mom’s 83rd birthday. My sister and I took her out for breakfast to celebrate. She loves to go out for breakfast. And as usual, the three of us talked lots and laughed even more. Then I seized a moment in our conversation to say “thank you.” That’s when my mom became uneasy. She always does, but that’s okay. I pressed through the awkwardness and thanked her for her faithfulness.
I thanked her for providing an example of unwavering devotion to God.
I thanked her for loving my dad and being faithful to her marriage covenant of 60 years.
I thanked her for constantly and tenderly caring for her 5 children and now her 17 grandchildren, and 4 great-grandchildren.
I thanked her for modeling biblical womanhood for me.
As if in hopelessness, Solomon poses this question in Proverbs 20:6—“A faithful [woman] who can find?”
Well, I found one—my mom. And realizing how rare she truly is, I am thanking God today for the life she has lived and the legacy she has given to me. I’m also asking God to help me to be faithful and to pass on this same legacy to my children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren….
To try and thank my mom, as well as encourage other women to follow her example, I wrote a tribute which I included in my book, Feminine Appeal. You can read it in it’s entirety by clicking here.
Who can you thank today for living a life of faithful biblical womanhood?
I have never been a big fan of the month of February. I know, how can I like one month and not another? But stick with me here. February is just one of those months that seemed to somehow sneak into the line-up. I mean, we have September through November and the leaves are turning and you get to drink apple cider. In December and January we get holidays and days off school and work. March begins to give us hope for spring which arrives with April and May. June, July, and August are full of heat and vacations. What about poor little February? It’s just stuck in between January and March. Someone probably put Valentines Day in there in hopes of helping it along.
A couple of weeks ago, February took on new life for me. February is exactly nine months away. Lord willing, February will be the month in which my first child is born.
I know, I know, time for all of the girlie details. Well, a couple weeks back, I was getting a little suspicious so I decided to go to the grocery store and get one of those pregnancy tests. Of course, at the store, I kept seeing people that I knew so I grabbed a bag of Doritos and hid the test behind the bag so that no one would see. I got home and stared in amazement as the little test had two lines. What an incredible combination of excitement and panic all mixed into one. (You see, the panic comes from many years of being present as my Mom, my aunts, and now my sisters, sit around and reminisce about all of their labor and delivery stories—not helpful for one that faints upon seeing a doctor’s office.) Back to my story. After my Mom reminded me that there was “no way out but through,” I began to plot how I wanted to tell my husband, Mike. This was a Thursday night and Father’s Day was only two days away. It just couldn’t have been more perfect. I decided that after he fell asleep on Saturday night, I would sneak out and decorate his car so that when he left for church on Sunday morning he would be totally surprised. Sure enough, from 12 a.m. to 2 a.m. Saturday night/Sunday morning, I could be seen blowing up what seemed like a million balloons, hanging bibs from mirrors, and writing on all of the windows with soap. So I didn’t sleep much that night, but it was worth it. The next morning, Mike headed out the door to church (he goes in pretty early cuz he works at the church) and before I could even pull up the blinds to watch, he ran back in, shocked and totally excited. (You see, he didn’t have any of the panic cuz there is no hospital with needles awaiting him.) It was such a memorable Father’s Day for us both. Mike drove around for days with our decorated car until the rain washed all of the soap off.
I, meanwhile, feel as if I am living a different life. I’m pretending that my belly fat is already the baby showing. I can take naps whenever I want and people just smile at me. I eat everything that the baby wants and I am fervently praying that I don’t get sick!
Each day is an opportunity for me to thank the Lord for the way that He has so richly blessed me, and to acknowledge His sovereign hold upon the little life that is growing inside of me.
I can’t wait for February!
Here are some shots of Mikey and the car…
One of our “Philly Friends,” Jeanne Welch, wrote to congratulate me on being “found” last week. She related an experience we thought you all should hear about—just in case any of my fellow tired moms go missing!
“I am so glad you found Kristin,” she wrote. “Once, when my boys were little, I fell asleep on the floor of my bedroom and ended up UNDER my bed, sound asleep. Next time you lose her check there….”
So, if you can’t find Mom, make sure to check under the bed!
Looks like we found Kristin.
She’s right where I thought she would be, taking great care of her kiddos (my nephews!).
You’re the best, Kess!
Where am I, Janelle?
Here’s where I am…
I’m in our bedroom, trying to stay awake during morning devotions.
I’m in the kitchen, pouring bowls of Rice Krispies.
I’m in the car, running errands to the soundtrack of my children’s worship cd.
I’m at the mall, and Liam is hitting Owen with his shoe.
I’m in the candy store, endeavoring to buy some peace and quiet.
I’m at the townhouse, unpacking all our stuff from the move.
I’m in the playroom, picking up Legos and army men.
I’m at the changing table, disposing of another stinky diaper.
I’m in the kitchen again, preparing cheese and watermelon for lunch.
I’m on my hands and knees, wiping up Andrew’s spilt milk.
I’m on the bed, catching a nap while the boys sleep.
I’m at the park, running after Liam who is trying to escape.
I’m on the couch, comforting Owen who fell and bumped his head.
I’m in the living room, trying to keep Liam’s dirty feet off the furniture.
I’m back in the playroom, picking up more Legos.
I’m in the kitchen, making dinner.
I’m on the phone, arranging a play-date with another mom.
I’m at eye level with Andrew, correcting him for complaining, and reminding him that he needs a Savior.
I’m in the bathroom, giving three cute boys a bath.
I’m in the boy’s room, reading The Gospel for Children. (I’m thankful it’s for mommies too.)
I’m in bed, wondering how many hours of sleep I’ll get tonight.
I’m in the laundry room, changing wet sheets. It’s 1:00 a.m.
Where am I? I’m in the middle of motherhood.
And there’s no place else I’d rather be!
If you’re in the middle of motherhood, I hope this quote my Mom passed along to me encourages you too.
“A mother…by her planning and industry night and day, by her willfulness of love, by her fidelity, she brings up her children. Do not read to me the campaigns of Caesar and tell me nothing about Napoleon’s wonderful exploits. For I tell you that, as God and the angels look down upon the silent history of that woman’s administration, and upon those men-building processes which went on in her heart and mind through a score of years;—nothing exterior, no outward development of kingdoms, no empire-building, can compare with what mother has done. Nothing can compare in beauty, and wonder, and admirableness, and divinity itself, to the silent work in obscure dwellings of faithful women bringing their children to honor and virtue and piety.” Henry Ward Beecher
Gene Fedele, ed. Golden Thoughts of Mother, Home & Heaven , (Gainesville, FL: Bridge-Logos, 2003), pp.75-76.