How kind are you... to YOU?

She came into this world, truly believing that you were the most beautiful woman alive! The way your hair felt in her hands, the softness of your skin against her cheeks, the way your eyes would make creases, as you would laugh at all of the funny things that she said and did. Too tall, too short, too fat, too thin... these descriptions meant nothing to her. If you failed to meet society's standards of a pretty face, flawless skin, or perfect hair... well then she was completely unaware of it.  However, there was something that she did know... you were perfect, and you were hers. You were her mama... and she was so proud of you. 

Then one day while trying on clothes at the mall, she listened as you were talking to a friend. She heard you say that you were too fat to fit into the most stylish clothes. She didn't understand. She thought that you were perfect.

A short while later, she sat patiently and admired your beauty as you applied your makeup in the bathroom mirror. You sighed as you stepped back and gave yourself a disapproving glance over. "I guess that's as good as it's gonna get," you muttered. She was confused. Why isn't mama happy with herself, she wondered. She's so beautiful.

Frequently, she began to notice that you would complain to her daddy. You would fret that you weren't as pretty as you used to be. She loved to listen to you speak, so she hung on your every word as you outlined each complaint that you had with yourself: lines, lumps, creases, calluses, moles, blemishes, stray hair, gray hair, and crooked teeth... just to name a few.

Slowly the minutes turned to hours, the hours to days, the days to months, and the months to years... and somewhere along the way she became aware of the meaning behind your words. The image of beauty that she once had reserved for you, her mother... had slowly been replaced by the image that you had painted for her. Comments that used to make her sad, had become so routine that she didn't even try to convince you that they weren't true. In fact, sometimes she would finish your sentences, in an attempt to lighten the air.  

She had always told you that she wanted to be exactly like you! So, of course it didn't take her long to begin mimicking this familiar pattern that you had unintentionally established for her. One day while trying clothes on at the mall, you listened in horror as your beautiful girl gave you her description of her own reflection. You did your best to convince her otherwise, but she remained unpersuaded. Suddenly things became so clear. That day you made a commitment to make a change. That was the day that you determined to speak of yourself with worth, not only for yourself, but for those who love you unconditionally! 

****************************************************************************************************

Mama friends, although this is a fictional representation... the issue is very real. While I've always tried to be careful as not to belittle myself in front of my girls, there have been moments when I have failed. 

Don't paint yourself as anything less than lovely in the eyes of your child... GIRL OR BOY!! Imagine how frustrating it must be for them to hear someone speak poorly of the most important woman in their life!! Especially if that person is you!! They aren't just your child... you are THEIR MOTHER! Respect your children enough to speak kindly about their mama!! Regardless of how old your children are, start today!! Make a commitment to establish a healthy pattern in your home. One that involves building up, not tearing down!!                                            -Victoria Brake- 

These thoughts are some that have been weighing on my heart and mind. If you think that this is a valuable message that could help another mama to slow down and reflect... then please SHARE!!

Psalm 139:14 -"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well."

PLEASE JOIN ME ON FACEBOOK!!!

Click HERE to LIKE the SIT DOWN AND TAKE A BRAKE Facebook page!!!

Sit Down and Take A Brake, with Victoria Brake.

Dearest Mama... you are not alone

To the working mother who has to drop her child off each morning, so that she can provide for him a place to sleep at night. The one who knows how it feels to miss out on first steps and first words. The one who cries in the car as she pulls away from her child's school, because she couldn't get the time off to go on a field trip. You are not alone. 

To the mother who is beating herself up because she can't seem to get it together. The one with a laundry pile in each room, dishes in the sink, and crayon on the walls. The one who is searching for balance, and whose biggest fear is an unexpected ring of the doorbell. You are not alone.

To the stay-at-home mother who is overwhelmed and feeling burnt out. The one who hasn't had a break in 4 years, a haircut in 10 months, and celebrates a solo trip to the grocery store like it's an exotic vacation. The one whose children are much better dressed than she is, because there is rarely room for shopping for mama on a one-income budget. You are not alone.

To the mother who feels like she is falling short. The one whose children don't eat organic food, don't wear designer clothes, and haven't traveled the country. The one who doesn't sew, or craft, or grow her own food. The one whose party pictures aren't worthy of a post on Pinterest. You are not alone.

To the mother who just doesn't feel good about herself these days. The one who used to feel pretty, but now just feels tired and worn. The one with scars on her belly, and creases around her eyes. The one who checks the mirror each morning for new gray hair. You are not alone.

To the mother in the post office with the screaming toddler. The one who is trying to calm a fussing infant with one hand, and mail a bill with the other. The one who keeps her eyes down to avoid the gazes of judgment from others. The one who is insecure, and feels like she is losing control. You are not alone.

To the mother of the rambunctious 5-year old boy, or the sassy 7-year old girl. The one who feels guilty when her patience runs thin. The one who locks herself in the bathroom to cry, because she's convinced that she's miserably failing. The one who promises herself at the end of each day, that tomorrow is going to be better. You are not alone.

To the mother of the teenager. The one who is fighting to stick to her guns. The one who is starting to wonder if she did something wrong, or if they are going to make it through these turbulent years. The one who lies awake at night begging God for guidance as they navigate these uncharted waters. You are not alone.

To the mother who can relate to even one of these things... you are not alone. Remember that as mothers, we were never called to be perfect. Give yourself grace in the areas with which you struggle. Forgive yourself when you make a mistake. Then move forward and strive to be the very best mother that you can be.

To the mother who can't relate to anything listed above. You are blessed. Be grateful. Count your blessings and be an encourager in all things.

To all mothers, let's lift one another up. Let's use our strengths to encourage and edify one another. We are all united by a common bond, the love for our children.

If you feel encouraged by this reminder that motherhood is challenging, and you are not alone. Then share it with the mothers in your life!! 

To follow Sit Down and Take A Brake on Facebook, CLICK HERE!!!

A Mother's Day Poem

Loving Mothers
by Victoria Brake

When I would cry, in the night,
she'd know that something wasn't right.
She'd race right in and fix it fast.
Only mama could do that.

She knew just what I liked to eat,
took care of each and every need.
Made sure that I was warm enough,
but not too hot in summer months.

That time I fell, at the park.
That time when someone broke my heart.
She knew just what to do and say,
knew how to take the pain away.

Shoes got tied, and beds got made.
Teeth got brushed, and bills got paid.
Funny how I thought back then,
that things like that would just happen.

Then I grew up and moved away,
but still remember to this day.
The way she loved so tenderly,
the way she shaped and molded me.

Correction came with gentle grace,
at times when I'd forget my place.
Praise, it came abundantly.
She showered it so lovingly.

And I'm a mama now, you see.
Now I can see things differently.
It turns out beds don't make themselves,
and someone has to stock the shelves.

These days I work so hard it seems,
and very little praise it gleans.
When I grow restless in my life,
I think of mama's sacrifice.

With joy she served her family,
without complaining selfishly.
By great example she did lead.
Now it's my turn, Lord guide me.

Help me remember as I go,
I'm shaping little lives, also.
What seems like work that's very small,
isn't really that at all.

I'll strive to labor with a smile.
Remembering that in a short while,
my time with them from dusk to dawn...
before I know it will be gone.

*** 

The greatest job, that one can know,
is one that's done, within a home.
A place where love and grace abound,
where compassion can be found.

She quietly writes a mighty story,
not receiving fame and glory.
Author to many wondrous works,
not written down with ink in books.

But in the heart of her child,
that's where her legacy is filed.
A name more blessed than any other.
Thank you GOD for LOVING MOTHERS.

CLICK HERE TO LIKE THE SIT DOWN AND TAKE A BRAKE FACEBOOK PAGE!!!

Little Hands, Little Man

There were several readers who asked if I would create a version of the poem that I posted a few days ago, that would be more applicable to little boys. So... I did a little rewording and here ya go!

Little Hands, Little Man
by Victoria Brake

Little hands to hold so tight.
Hair to comb, and tears to wipe.
Little feet that grow so fast.
Teeth to brush and bedtime baths.
Little cups that must be filled.
Teething rings that must be chilled.
Clothes that come in green and blue.
Doing things boys love to do.
Time is fleeting, oh so fast.
What was just here, is now the past.

Little hands that needed me.
Now need me less, I start to see.
He ties his shoes and combs his hair.
Picks out his clothes, knows what to wear.
We hunt for bugs and play with cars.
Draw pictures of the moon and stars.
We're at the park, we play pretend.
He tells me I'm his favorite friend.
Who, what, when, where, why and how?
He needs to know these things right now.
So full of life, so full of love.
This gift sent from the Lord above.

He's older now, my little man.
No need for him to hold my hand.
Fishing, camping, baseball games.
Collecting worms after it rains.
Each night I ask the Lord above,
to help me teach him how to love.
There's so much that he needs to know,
and I'm still learning as I go.
Please, Lord... PLEASE help me get this right.
I beg, as I lose sleep at night.
Precious soul, undefiled.
Lord, guide me as I raise this child.

What just happened? Can it be?
My little boy is now a teen.
I stock the fridge to keep him fed.
Make sure he still fits in his bed.
Try not to let my worry show.
This happened fast, where did time go?
Help me to listen patiently.
As I instruct him, Lord guide me.
May my words be gentle and kind.
Loving, sincere, pure and wise.
His time at home, will soon be gone.
It sure did fly, but it was fun.

His bags are packed and by the door.
He's off to face a whole new world.
It seems like only yesterday,
as I would rock him… he would say.
Just one more story, pretty please?
Please would you read one more to me?
Then I would tuck him in his bed,
and kiss him on his precious head.
No more karate, no more ball.
No more measurements on the wall.
Today he'll leave this cozy nest,
and spread his wings, and give his best.

Five years later, this handsome man,
will take a wife and give his hand.
A beautiful bride, for my son.
I've prayed for her since he was one.
Thank you Lord, for hearing me.
For growing now, our family tree.
Two young lives will now be one.
A new love story has begun.

Two years later, waiting room.
A child will be here very soon.
Tiny bundle, wrapped in blue.
My boy, he knows just what to do.
He holds his son so tenderly.
An instant bond that I can see.
I run my hand through baby's hair.
The tears they fall, without a care.
His child held gently on his chest.
The years ahead will be his best.
It's true, he may not know it yet.
But he will soon, that I can bet.

Little hands to hold so tight.
Hair to comb and tears to wipe.

Share this poem with the other mamas in your life! Time flies!

Click HERE to LIKE the SIT DOWN AND TAKE A BRAKE Facebook page!

Link to original poem (GIRL VERSION): http://victoriabrake.blogspot.com/2013/04/a-poem-little-hands.html?spref=fb.

Purpose

"Purpose is found in those quiet moments, when no one but God sees the work of your hands."

-Darlene Schacht

PHOTO CREDIT: https://www.facebook.com/timewarpwife

Why do you do what you do? Is it because your husband and children stand on the sidelines and cheer you on as you sit at your desk, fold laundry, and cook dinner? Probably not, huh? Most of us get up and feed our kids breakfast in the morning because we love them, not because there is a "Mother of the Year" trophy on the line. Furthermore, I'd guess that few of us wait by the dishwasher each night expecting a round of applause after the last dish is put away. 

Even when it feels as though much of what you do goes unnoticed, take joy in knowing that you are fulfilling a mighty role in your home. One that is filled with great purpose. Be encouraged today that you are shaping the lives of your children, building precious memories for them. Every small task, every simple detail that you tend to is creating for them a place of peace and comfort. 

  Do yo know another wife or mama who could use some encouragement? Share this post to pass some on! 

To LIKE the SIT DOWN AND TAKE A BRAKE Facebook page, CLICK HERE!

A Poem: Little Hands

Little Hands
by Victoria Brake 
 

Little hands to hold so tight.

Hair to comb, and tears to wipe.
Little feet that grow so fast.

Teeth to brush and bedtime baths.
Little cups that must be filled.

Teething rings that must be chilled.
Little dresses, spin and twirl.
Little hair bows, little curls.
Time is fleeting, oh so fast.
What was just here, is now the past.

Little hands that needed me.
Now need me less, I start to see.
She ties her shoes and combs her hair.
Picks out her clothes, knows what to wear.
She grabs her doll, heads to the door.
I smile, she's still a little girl.
We're at the park, we play pretend.
She tells me I'm her favorite friend.
Who, what, when, where, why and how?
She needs to know these things right now.
So full of life, so full of love.
This gift sent from the Lord above.

She's older now, my little girl.
She's learning more about the world.
Each night I ask the Lord above,

to help me teach her how to love.
There's so much that she needs to know,
and I'm still learning as I go.
Please, Lord... PLEASE help me get this right.
I beg, as I lose sleep at night.
Precious soul, undefiled.
Lord, guide me as I raise this child.

What just happened? Can it be?
My little girl is now a teen.
No more dolls, and no more bows.
That happened fast, where did time go?
Help me to listen patiently,
as I instruct her, Lord guide me.
May my words be gentle and kind.

Loving, sincere, pure and wise.
Her time at home, will soon be gone.
It sure did fly, but it was fun.

Her bags are packed and by the door.
She's off to face a whole new world.
It seems like only yesterday,
as I would rock her… she would say.
Just one more story, pretty please?
Please would you read one more to me?
Then I would tuck her in her bed,
and kiss her on her precious head.
No more ballet, no more tee ball.
No more measurements on the wall.
Today she'll leave this cozy nest,
and spread her wings, and give her best.

Five years later, long white dress.
My heart is full, I am so blessed.
My little girl, a woman now.
So full of grace, I am so proud.
A handsome man, I'll call my son.
I've prayed for him, since she was one.
Thank you Lord, for hearing me.
For strengthening our family tree.
Two young lives will now be one.
A new love story has begun.

Two years later, by her bed.
The doctor says, he sees a head.
A baby girl, wrapped up in pink.
My daughter reaches her to me.
I close my eyes, and smell her hair.
The tears they fall, without a care.
I lay her on my daughter's chest,
the years ahead will be her best.

It's true, she may not know it yet.

But she will soon, that I can bet.

Little hands to hold so tight.
Hair to comb and tears to wipe.

Share this poem with the other mamas in your life! Time flies!

CLICK HERE to like the Sit Down and Take A Brake Facebook page.

SIT DOWN AND TAKE A BRAKE with Victoria Brake

The Facebook Effect

 It was a Tuesday night, just like every other. Sarah, a young mother of three, was just finishing up with the usual bedtime routines. She stood to leave the room of her six-year old daughter, but paused when she got to the doorway, knowing that there'd be just one more request. "Mama," the girl said quietly. "Please, sing our song, just one more time?" There were dishes in the sink, but Sarah knew that they would wait for her, and that this was a moment that she couldn't have back. She walked over and sat back down on the edge of her daughter's bed, and gently she began to sing. The little girl's eyes fluttered as Sarah softly brushed her fingers against her daughter's small cheeks. As she sang the final refrain, the little girl drifted peacefully to sleep. A short time later, the last plate had been put away, and Sarah walked into her small bedroom and turned the computer on. She sat down in front of the brightly lit screen and as her news feed came up, she began to cry. Jenny, a friend from college, just seemed to have it all. A huge house with only the finest of furnishings, a brand new Mercedes, and a big diamond on her left ring finger. She always had fresh highlights, with every hair in place. In every photograph she was immaculately dressed, with flawless makeup and a perfect manicure to match. In two days Jenny was leaving for a trip to Paris with her husband. They were always taking vacations. "That must be nice", Sarah whispered to herself. She felt like the only thing her dear husband had time for, was work. Yes, it was a sacrifice that they had agreed to make so that she could stay home to care for their children, but sometimes she wished that they had more time to relax. Sarah was happy if they had enough money to pay the bills, she didn't know if they would ever be able to afford a vacation! Sarah took a deep breath, and pulled herself together. It had been a long day and she was exhausted. She had taken the kids for an early picnic at the park, followed by an afternoon of baking and decorating cupcakes. She wanted to post just a few pictures of their adventures before turning in. When the upload was finished, she typed these words as a caption... "Love my time with my babies! They bring me such joy!" Then she reached over and switched the computer off. She climbed into bed and slid up behind her husband who was already sound asleep after a long day of hard work. She kissed his warm back, then drifted off to sleep... wondering what it was like in France.

It was a Friday afternoon, and Jenny was just getting back to her room at a five star resort in Paris. She had been out all morning shopping and was completely exhausted. She tossed two arms full of designer shopping bags down onto the plush comforter of the king size bed, then paused for a moment to run her hand along the silky fabric. She sighed as she considered the irony of her situation. Here she was, in Paris of all places, and she felt so alone. Her husband was here with her, but he wasn't really here. He was always on the phone, or away at a "meeting". Business... maybe? Another woman... perhaps? She wasn't really sure, but he was always so distant and cold. She had thought that perhaps a romantic getaway might stir the embers of their dying relationship, but clearly there was no spark to be found. She remembered about how excited she had been only three days before when he had agreed to let her book their flights. She had posted about their trip right away, as she was so excited for her friends to know that she was going to PARIS! Now here she was, in a beautiful room, in the city of LOVE... alone. That morning she had awoken to find her husband was already dressed in a new suit and tie. He had told her that he had scheduled a last minute "meeting" with a potential new client abroad, but she wasn't convinced. She felt like he just couldn't bear to be near her. Sighing heavily, she sat down and opened her computer. She stared at the brightly lit screen and felt helpless as the tears began to roll down her cheeks. What she would give to have a love like her childhood friend, Lily. It was perfectly clear that Lily had it all. No, she didn't have the same material wealth as Jenny, but she had something that Jenny could only dream about. Lily was always posting about the most thoughtful gestures that her husband would do for her. Oh, and you could tell from photographs that he simply adored her. Jenny had no idea what it would feel like to receive that kind of affection and attention. Jenny wiped away the tears from her eyes, and took a deep breath. She picked up her phone and aimed the camera at the mound of bags on the bed beside her. With a couple of taps the photo was uploading, and for the caption she quickly typed... "Am I a lucky girl, or what?! Busy morning shopping in Paris!!"

 It was a Wednesday morning and Lily had just stepped out of the shower. She was in a hurry to get ready because she had an appointment at 9:30. As she reached for her robe, something caught her eye. There on the bathroom counter laid a single red rose. A note beside it read, "I can't wait to watch our family blossom. Love, Tom". She smiled, then quickly got dressed and dried her hair. She stood by her door with her keys in her hand, but first she had to do just one thing. She pulled out her phone, and tapped the familiar blue and white icon. Her fingers moved quickly as she typed, "My amazing husband has made me swoon once again. A red rose and the most thoughtful note were greeting me this morning when I stepped out of the shower. Could I ask for more?!" An hour later she sat nervously on the edge of a cold, hard bed. The paper crinkled beneath her as she waited for the doctor to return with the results. She suddenly felt vulnerable, and so cold. Tom pulled her in even closer against him. He had taken an early break so that he could be with her when she received the results. She heard the door knob move and her heart began to race. When she gathered the nerve to look up, the doctor's eyes were filled with sadness and he simply shook his head. Lily buried her face in her hands and began to sob. It didn't work... again. Tom gently caressed her hair and held her tightly while she sobbed loudly into his chest. He quietly told her that it would all work out in God's time. Once she had gathered the strength to stand, Tom drove her home. She walked through the door to an empty bedroom, where just a couple of hours before she had been full of such hope. She sat down in front of her computer and with tears in her eyes, she stared at a brightly lit screen. The first post she saw was from her friend, Sarah. Sarah and Lily had worked together about six years ago, but after the birth of her first daughter, Sarah had decided not to return to work. Even then, Lily had been trying to conceive. Now it seemed as though Sarah had it all. A cute little house, a hard working husband, and three beautiful children who clearly lit up her world. She was always posting about things they were doing, and places that they were going. Just the day before they had gone on a picnic in the park, and had spent the afternoon baking cupcakes. The pictures were so perfectly happy. Lily wanted that... oh, she wanted that so badly. Lily fell into her bed and as she sobbed herself to sleep, she wondered if Sarah had any idea just how blessed she truly was.

These stories are completely fictional, but I believe that The Facebook Effect is very real. It is so easy to look at a Facebook wall and assume that someone "has it all". It's easy to imagine that their life is so perfect behind closed doors. I'd guess that in most instances there is more than what meets the eye. You see, Facebook is not the place to air your dirty laundry, and most people recognize that. Just because your Facebook friends only post about the "perfect" parts of their life, it doesn't mean that their lives are without imperfections. More than likely, they aren't trying to be misleading. It's just that Facebook is a public forum, and is not an appropriate place to share things of a private or more sensitive nature. Remember that while you are admiring how green the grass is for someone else, there could very well be someone who is wishing that they were as blessed as you are. If you think this post could encourage someone else, then please SHARE it using the buttons below.

Follow me!!! Click HERE to LIKE the SIT DOWN AND TAKE A BRAKE Facebook page.