I went to the post office today, which of course conjures up all kinds of nightmarish thoughts it being December 14th and all. But, I had a box to mail to the husband of a friend who is stationed overseas in the Army and so I sucked it up and headed over there. It actually wasn't too bad and the people were generally in a good mood, so even though I had the wrong forms filled out it went fine, until the clerk asked me if I wanted the box back if it was "undeliverable", or if I wanted it donated to the chaplain. Now, as my sweet husband tried to console me with, there are lots of reasons a package would be undeliverable. Loads in fact, especially considering we are talking about the US Postal service. But, all I could see in my mind are the countless families sending packages to their loved ones serving in the armed forces and waiting and praying for their return. I barely kept it together until I got to the parking lot.
When I got in the car and turned it on all I heard were Christmas songs, which are so common in December on the radio anymore that I tend to treat them like white noise. I occasionally turn up a particularly loved tune, but for the most part it's just background "filler". But today the song "Mary Did You Know" came on", and although I've heard it lots of times, today it really made an impact on me. It made me really stop and consider the gift of sacrifices.
I started wondering if Mary really knew the impact of her Son being born, if she really understood the sacrifice that would be required of Him, and also of her. It says in Luke 2:19 "But Mary kept these things and pondered them in her heart". But, did she ponder *that*? Did she sit there and realize that this infant she bore, that she loved, would willingly give Himself not only for her, but for all mankind? How could she ever have considered that? It's at once a terrible and awesome thing to reconcile.
Clearly nobody whose loved ones voluntarily put themselves in harm's way spend too much time thinking about that. I mean, really, how could you and continue to function every day? I doubt my friend whose husband is in the Army does, she's too busy trying to care for 3 young children. And how about the rest of us; those of us who just wander around every day filling our lives with "important" duties? Do we ever really stop to "ponder these things in our hearts"? When is the last time you *truly* thought on the topic of sacrifice?
As you go about these last days in preparation for the holidays spend some time thinking about it. What would *you* be willing to sacrifice for?, What, or who do you think is worthy of sacrifice? Contemplating those questions could prove to be very enlightening not only on how we view those who serve us here on earth, but also in how we relate to the One who gave it all.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Thanksgiving in the midst of grief
I am not a fan of Thanksgiving. There, I said it. I know I am probably not the only one who feels that way, but I am most definitely in the minority. I love the *idea* of Thanksgiving and I am appreciative for my many blessings, but on the actual day itself the feeling of gratitude eludes me. Quite honestly the holiday has been spoiled for me. The year before Chloe was born I had a miscarriage on Thanksgiving and that day has just never, ever been the same since.
Losing a baby is a uniquely awful experience. The unborn are not uniformly considered "living entities", and as such are often considered expendable. In addition, the loss of something intangible is especially difficult to reconcile. The death of a "living" child engenders all kinds of sympathy from friends and family, while a miscarriage generally goes unmentioned, as if the hurt will be less if it's all just forgotten.
The problem is, it can't just be forgotten. I remember an encounter a while back, earlier in our marriage, not long after we had moved into our house in Ohio. I was a young mom of two and was blissfully innocent of loss. I was talking to my new neighbor Julie, who had shared with me that she had just recently miscarried a child. She described the difficulty in mourning that loss because people just encouraged her to "move on and get over it". "You'll have another" was something she heard over and over again, as if getting pregnant soon would instantly fix everything. I had no idea what to say to her, I recognized she was hurting, but was woefully ignorant of how I should respond. Finally I just said what, at the time, seemed like common courtesy. I replied "Well, it must be hard because once you know you're pregnant, it's a real baby to you". I'm not sure that's an exact quote, but I do remember vividly what she said in reply. She said "It's so nice that you said that, it means a lot to me". I didn't think about it much at the time, the moment was over and I had no real connection to the event. Many years later I remembered those words and I longed to have someone say them to me.
We had discovered I was expecting a couple of weeks before visiting my in-laws for Thanksgiving. Looking back, I was apprehensive about the pregnancy and traveling, I had experienced extreme nausea and vomiting with my first two babies and this pregnancy was surprisingly illness free. My doctor reassured me that all pregnancies are unique, but deep down I was anxious. It turned out my fears were realized and I started bleeding not long after we arrived in Georgia, a drive of 16 hours from our home. I spent most of the week in and out of the emergency room at the local medical center. As I lay in the hospital listening to the nurse ask me why I was crying (no, I'm not kidding), I remembered that long past conversation with Julie. What I would have given for someone, anyone to validate my loss, to comfort my pain, to understand that the hurt of losing a baby is like having the most wonderful gift waved in front of your face and promised to you, only to have it snatched away just as you reach for it. A miscarriage isn't just the tangible loss of a loved one, it is the loss of a dream, of all the hopes and plans for an unknown child. It is involuntarily relinquishing the lifelong opportunity of love, both given and received. And through it all, having almost no one acknowledge or legitimize your grief.
Looking back I see now that most people are woefully unskilled at intentional comfort. The majority of people shy away from grief and will do anything to avoid confronting it. I recognize now that Andre had absolutely no idea how to give me solace in the midst of his own loss. My in-laws said nothing beyond their frustration that we decided to leave on Thanksgiving Day and drive the 16 long hours back home to familiar doctors. To this day all they have expressed is the disappointment that their holiday was "ruined". The baby, their lost grandchild, has not once been mentioned.
And so, as I continue to struggle with mixed emotions, I condemn myself for not moving past this loss, wondering if I will ever enjoy Thanksgiving again, and discovering that sometimes it's most difficult to extend grace to yourself. After a lot of prayer and journaling, I realized my reluctance to completely give my pain and anger to God is due to my belief that, once it is gone, it will be like the pregnancy never happened at all, as if the baby, our child, never even existed.
Of course God stands ever ready to receive my pain, to offer His merciful grace whenever I am ready to accept that gift. Somehow I need to learn a way to relinquish my grief to Him, and yet hold dear the memory of a promise never realized. Only then will I be able to truly celebrate with thanksgiving again.
Losing a baby is a uniquely awful experience. The unborn are not uniformly considered "living entities", and as such are often considered expendable. In addition, the loss of something intangible is especially difficult to reconcile. The death of a "living" child engenders all kinds of sympathy from friends and family, while a miscarriage generally goes unmentioned, as if the hurt will be less if it's all just forgotten.
The problem is, it can't just be forgotten. I remember an encounter a while back, earlier in our marriage, not long after we had moved into our house in Ohio. I was a young mom of two and was blissfully innocent of loss. I was talking to my new neighbor Julie, who had shared with me that she had just recently miscarried a child. She described the difficulty in mourning that loss because people just encouraged her to "move on and get over it". "You'll have another" was something she heard over and over again, as if getting pregnant soon would instantly fix everything. I had no idea what to say to her, I recognized she was hurting, but was woefully ignorant of how I should respond. Finally I just said what, at the time, seemed like common courtesy. I replied "Well, it must be hard because once you know you're pregnant, it's a real baby to you". I'm not sure that's an exact quote, but I do remember vividly what she said in reply. She said "It's so nice that you said that, it means a lot to me". I didn't think about it much at the time, the moment was over and I had no real connection to the event. Many years later I remembered those words and I longed to have someone say them to me.
We had discovered I was expecting a couple of weeks before visiting my in-laws for Thanksgiving. Looking back, I was apprehensive about the pregnancy and traveling, I had experienced extreme nausea and vomiting with my first two babies and this pregnancy was surprisingly illness free. My doctor reassured me that all pregnancies are unique, but deep down I was anxious. It turned out my fears were realized and I started bleeding not long after we arrived in Georgia, a drive of 16 hours from our home. I spent most of the week in and out of the emergency room at the local medical center. As I lay in the hospital listening to the nurse ask me why I was crying (no, I'm not kidding), I remembered that long past conversation with Julie. What I would have given for someone, anyone to validate my loss, to comfort my pain, to understand that the hurt of losing a baby is like having the most wonderful gift waved in front of your face and promised to you, only to have it snatched away just as you reach for it. A miscarriage isn't just the tangible loss of a loved one, it is the loss of a dream, of all the hopes and plans for an unknown child. It is involuntarily relinquishing the lifelong opportunity of love, both given and received. And through it all, having almost no one acknowledge or legitimize your grief.
Looking back I see now that most people are woefully unskilled at intentional comfort. The majority of people shy away from grief and will do anything to avoid confronting it. I recognize now that Andre had absolutely no idea how to give me solace in the midst of his own loss. My in-laws said nothing beyond their frustration that we decided to leave on Thanksgiving Day and drive the 16 long hours back home to familiar doctors. To this day all they have expressed is the disappointment that their holiday was "ruined". The baby, their lost grandchild, has not once been mentioned.
And so, as I continue to struggle with mixed emotions, I condemn myself for not moving past this loss, wondering if I will ever enjoy Thanksgiving again, and discovering that sometimes it's most difficult to extend grace to yourself. After a lot of prayer and journaling, I realized my reluctance to completely give my pain and anger to God is due to my belief that, once it is gone, it will be like the pregnancy never happened at all, as if the baby, our child, never even existed.
Of course God stands ever ready to receive my pain, to offer His merciful grace whenever I am ready to accept that gift. Somehow I need to learn a way to relinquish my grief to Him, and yet hold dear the memory of a promise never realized. Only then will I be able to truly celebrate with thanksgiving again.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Christmas Card 2010
Oh Holy Night Religious Christmas Card
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Thursday, November 18, 2010
Identity Theft
Every day it seems like there is an article about identity theft, what it is, how pervasive it is, how to avoid it etc. What they don't always mention is that parents can be the biggest perpetrator of it. In our youth ministry we've been talking a lot about helping the kids find their identity in God. It's a difficult concept even for adults, since we live in a society ready made to label and define us within a worldly context, which is very different from who we *really* are as created by God.
I wish I could say that as a mother I was a completely intentional parent, but in truth this post will probably read more as a "do as I say, not as I do" type of thing. It's much easier with my core group kids to keep perspective and look beneath all the labels their teachers, friends, and yes, even parents give them. With my own I tend to fall victim to my ideas of who my kids are, rather than to see them as God created them. I'm too close, I see them too often as a part of my own worldly identity.
My youngest, Chloe is a perfect example. She is simultaneously my easiest, and most difficult child. Easiest because she is so flexible and accepting, and difficult because she is also disorganized, inattentive and fairly impulsive. On the surface, as I judge her with human eyes I see her as irresponsible, unable to pay attention, and careless. But what God sees is completely different. By His measure she is loving, tolerant, and nonjudgmental, and she never sweats the small stuff. She sees the good in every situation and in every person.
The challenge as her parent is to hold her accountable for any misdeeds, while treasuring the person God created her to be. And that is very, very hard in a world that views successful parenting as producing well paid, college graduates. Those are of course good things, but isn't it a bigger blessing to raise a child who knows and loves Jesus and through Him cares for others? In the larger picture, what is *really* most important?
Psalm 139 states "You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb . You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in Your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed." That passage speaks of a knowledge and devotion greater than anything humanly possible. And, if God has taken that much care in our creation and that of our children, don't we owe it to them to invest in that? To try and see what God saw as He so perfectly formed them and us?
In this way we can see that shyness becomes gentleness, stubbornness is viewed as determination, a gullible child is seen as trusting, a wary child discerning. It's all in your perspective, a perspective that I am finally starting to get. This reminds me of a common phrase people use about child rearing. It states that children don't come with instruction manuals. But really, maybe they do. We just don't take the time to read them. Perhaps we need to take the time to reassess our children's gifts and resist the temptation to label our children as we view them, to keep us from committing our own version of identity theft.
I wish I could say that as a mother I was a completely intentional parent, but in truth this post will probably read more as a "do as I say, not as I do" type of thing. It's much easier with my core group kids to keep perspective and look beneath all the labels their teachers, friends, and yes, even parents give them. With my own I tend to fall victim to my ideas of who my kids are, rather than to see them as God created them. I'm too close, I see them too often as a part of my own worldly identity.
My youngest, Chloe is a perfect example. She is simultaneously my easiest, and most difficult child. Easiest because she is so flexible and accepting, and difficult because she is also disorganized, inattentive and fairly impulsive. On the surface, as I judge her with human eyes I see her as irresponsible, unable to pay attention, and careless. But what God sees is completely different. By His measure she is loving, tolerant, and nonjudgmental, and she never sweats the small stuff. She sees the good in every situation and in every person.
The challenge as her parent is to hold her accountable for any misdeeds, while treasuring the person God created her to be. And that is very, very hard in a world that views successful parenting as producing well paid, college graduates. Those are of course good things, but isn't it a bigger blessing to raise a child who knows and loves Jesus and through Him cares for others? In the larger picture, what is *really* most important?
Psalm 139 states "You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb . You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in Your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed." That passage speaks of a knowledge and devotion greater than anything humanly possible. And, if God has taken that much care in our creation and that of our children, don't we owe it to them to invest in that? To try and see what God saw as He so perfectly formed them and us?
In this way we can see that shyness becomes gentleness, stubbornness is viewed as determination, a gullible child is seen as trusting, a wary child discerning. It's all in your perspective, a perspective that I am finally starting to get. This reminds me of a common phrase people use about child rearing. It states that children don't come with instruction manuals. But really, maybe they do. We just don't take the time to read them. Perhaps we need to take the time to reassess our children's gifts and resist the temptation to label our children as we view them, to keep us from committing our own version of identity theft.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
What you *show* your children is more important than what you tell them.
I am so blessed. Why, you ask? Because I have enjoyed 23 years of not wedded bliss. Yep, you heard that right, and no, I'm not saying that I'm *unhappily* married. I just think that it would be lying to imply that we've been blissful for the entire 23 years. As a matter of fact it's been a lot of work, sometimes it seemed like more work than it was worth, which also is a lie. Marriage is *never* more work than it's worth.
The blessing that I referenced has trickled down to more than just me. Our marriage has been an incredible gift to our children, who, as point of fact, would not even be here without said marriage. It's been a boon to my children not just because Andre is a good father, or good provider, but because he's such a good husband.
You see, a child's best example for a future partner and relationship is modeled by their parents. It doesn't matter what you *tell* them to look for, or to do, it matters what the two of you *show* them. And, you don't need to have a perfect marriage to be a good example. Sometimes displaying tenacity and loving commitment in the midst of tension and anxiety is even more valuable than being lovey dovey when things are going well. It's important for them to witness that love is more often a choice than a feeling. Trust me, our kids get far too many examples of how to cut and run when things are bad, and believe me, children are intuitive, they know when things are bad.
Which brings me back to my family, and my marriage, which is thankfully, blessedly sound. We've had some rocky times in our 23 years together, but it has only served to remind us what is really worth fighting for. Because the reality is, if you want to nurture your children, you must first nurture your marriage.
The blessing that I referenced has trickled down to more than just me. Our marriage has been an incredible gift to our children, who, as point of fact, would not even be here without said marriage. It's been a boon to my children not just because Andre is a good father, or good provider, but because he's such a good husband.
You see, a child's best example for a future partner and relationship is modeled by their parents. It doesn't matter what you *tell* them to look for, or to do, it matters what the two of you *show* them. And, you don't need to have a perfect marriage to be a good example. Sometimes displaying tenacity and loving commitment in the midst of tension and anxiety is even more valuable than being lovey dovey when things are going well. It's important for them to witness that love is more often a choice than a feeling. Trust me, our kids get far too many examples of how to cut and run when things are bad, and believe me, children are intuitive, they know when things are bad.
Which brings me back to my family, and my marriage, which is thankfully, blessedly sound. We've had some rocky times in our 23 years together, but it has only served to remind us what is really worth fighting for. Because the reality is, if you want to nurture your children, you must first nurture your marriage.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
When your "crappies" outweigh your "happies"
We have this little ritual in my core group, which for those of you who aren't familiar with the core group concept, is a small group of teens, who along with a couple of adult leaders, meet weekly to share their walk with God, among other less serious things. We always start off our meetings with our "happies and crappies" for the week after our social time has ended. The kids like it, and their stories range from horrible tests, to worries about friends and family, and sometimes it goes even deeper than that. Every week as Wednesday rolls around I consider what I'm going to share when it's my turn, which lately, has been a whole lot of "crappy" with very little "happy".
I am in a funk, it's been coming on for a while, but it's evolving into a state where I'm considering hiring an industrial strength tow truck to haul me out. There's no shortage of reasons for this mood of mine, honestly 2010 has dished out more than her share of hurts to me and mine, and I've had about all that I can take, which leads me to this week's "happy and crappy" evaluation.
I was running it through my mind as I prepared our lesson for the week, and started feeling really guilty. Guilty about my mood, for my low tolerance for frustration, for my lack of "get up and go". I mean, what kind of good Christian struggles like this? And that's when I heard the little voice in my head, (the one that keeps me on track and reminds me of what is *actually* true), say "Rebecca, you are as I made you. I'm not looking for "good" Christians, I'm looking for "real" ones." Huh. Well, that made me stop and think.
And what did I learn from this "conversation" you ask? Well, I think the real value in sharing a Christian walk with someone is not in seeing how well they handle the good times, but how they deal with all the "crappies". We all can be happy and faithful to God when things are going well, but how many of us continue to give thanks and praise and wait patiently when things, to put it bluntly, really stink? That's the real lesson in Christianity, continuing to put one foot in front of the other while keeping faith that things, while not great right now, are being done for His glory and in His perfect timing.
So, I will continue to soldier on and try to wait faithfully for some resolution to the problems and hurts I'm facing, and in it all I will look around me with hope and expectation of seeing His work and His blessings even when they look very small in comparison. And I will take comfort in the knowledge that, in all of this, while I'm not the "best" Christian, I remain very real.
I am in a funk, it's been coming on for a while, but it's evolving into a state where I'm considering hiring an industrial strength tow truck to haul me out. There's no shortage of reasons for this mood of mine, honestly 2010 has dished out more than her share of hurts to me and mine, and I've had about all that I can take, which leads me to this week's "happy and crappy" evaluation.
I was running it through my mind as I prepared our lesson for the week, and started feeling really guilty. Guilty about my mood, for my low tolerance for frustration, for my lack of "get up and go". I mean, what kind of good Christian struggles like this? And that's when I heard the little voice in my head, (the one that keeps me on track and reminds me of what is *actually* true), say "Rebecca, you are as I made you. I'm not looking for "good" Christians, I'm looking for "real" ones." Huh. Well, that made me stop and think.
And what did I learn from this "conversation" you ask? Well, I think the real value in sharing a Christian walk with someone is not in seeing how well they handle the good times, but how they deal with all the "crappies". We all can be happy and faithful to God when things are going well, but how many of us continue to give thanks and praise and wait patiently when things, to put it bluntly, really stink? That's the real lesson in Christianity, continuing to put one foot in front of the other while keeping faith that things, while not great right now, are being done for His glory and in His perfect timing.
So, I will continue to soldier on and try to wait faithfully for some resolution to the problems and hurts I'm facing, and in it all I will look around me with hope and expectation of seeing His work and His blessings even when they look very small in comparison. And I will take comfort in the knowledge that, in all of this, while I'm not the "best" Christian, I remain very real.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Despite what a Boy Scout will tell you, you can never be fully prepared
The motto of the Boy Scouts of America is "Be Prepared", and damn I would have made an excellent Boy Scout. I mean I was the one who was always planning and making sure that I had whatever I needed to accomplish any task, a trait that I apparently did *not* pass on to any of my children, but that is another blog. Even when I found myself in a situation where I was at a loss, I could always count on my resourcefulness to pull me through. I am nothing if not prepared and resourceful, except, unless you see me handle a death.
To be fair, I've come to realize that none of us is fully prepared. On a personal level I witnessed it with the deaths of my grandfather and my friend Michelle. I *knew* they were dying, everyone did, but somehow at the moment of their passing it just seemed like such a surprise. To have such a real, *living* part of your life taken away is profoundly shocking.
I had the great fortune to attend a "Women of Faith" conference last year with some friends and it was very moving. There were many wonderful, truthful things spoken during that weekend, but one speaker particularly comes to my mind. Marilyn Meberg was talking and she said that the reason that none of us handle pain, sickness, and death very well is that we weren't created to have to cope with that. I remember at the time that her statement rang so true for me and I'm sure God intended it that way. Thinking about it now I see exactly what she means. It is so completely wrong, in every sense of the word to watch someone whither and die in excruciating pain, and anything wrong, cannot be of God. We were created as His children to live with Him and each other in community forever, and anything that does not further that goal will bring us nothing but misery and grief. Of course the reality is that, because of sin, we live in an imperfect world, and sickness is a visible sign of that imperfection.
All of which brought me to yesterday when my friend took her last breath on this earth and when her husband and 3 children had to say goodbye. Can anything be more *un*natural? Can anyone looking at that scene *not* see how innately wrong that is? A friend and I were fortunate enough to have been able to spend the morning with her and her suffering was glaring. So, while I was not prepared, and I was not ready for her to leave us, I am glad that she is no longer in pain.
I will close this out with some words. I know a lot of people say that words are cheap, but I have never experienced that. I like words, they are very powerful. They can be clever, and thoughtful, full of nuance and truth, and they can be crafted in a myriad of ways that convey *exactly* what I'm feeling about almost any subject if I consider it long enough (and have my thesaurus handy). And, although you can never sum up a person in entirety with words, you can define to a certain extent what they meant to you. So, here, in a list of words is how I experienced Tracy: friend, confidant, mother, wife, sister, daughter, avid volunteer, faithful, strong, loving, open, engaging, vibrant, caring, gifted, bright, funny, giver of parties, kind, outgoing, beautiful, and fair.
Oh, and I will include 3 last words too: loved, missed, remembered.
To be fair, I've come to realize that none of us is fully prepared. On a personal level I witnessed it with the deaths of my grandfather and my friend Michelle. I *knew* they were dying, everyone did, but somehow at the moment of their passing it just seemed like such a surprise. To have such a real, *living* part of your life taken away is profoundly shocking.
I had the great fortune to attend a "Women of Faith" conference last year with some friends and it was very moving. There were many wonderful, truthful things spoken during that weekend, but one speaker particularly comes to my mind. Marilyn Meberg was talking and she said that the reason that none of us handle pain, sickness, and death very well is that we weren't created to have to cope with that. I remember at the time that her statement rang so true for me and I'm sure God intended it that way. Thinking about it now I see exactly what she means. It is so completely wrong, in every sense of the word to watch someone whither and die in excruciating pain, and anything wrong, cannot be of God. We were created as His children to live with Him and each other in community forever, and anything that does not further that goal will bring us nothing but misery and grief. Of course the reality is that, because of sin, we live in an imperfect world, and sickness is a visible sign of that imperfection.
All of which brought me to yesterday when my friend took her last breath on this earth and when her husband and 3 children had to say goodbye. Can anything be more *un*natural? Can anyone looking at that scene *not* see how innately wrong that is? A friend and I were fortunate enough to have been able to spend the morning with her and her suffering was glaring. So, while I was not prepared, and I was not ready for her to leave us, I am glad that she is no longer in pain.
I will close this out with some words. I know a lot of people say that words are cheap, but I have never experienced that. I like words, they are very powerful. They can be clever, and thoughtful, full of nuance and truth, and they can be crafted in a myriad of ways that convey *exactly* what I'm feeling about almost any subject if I consider it long enough (and have my thesaurus handy). And, although you can never sum up a person in entirety with words, you can define to a certain extent what they meant to you. So, here, in a list of words is how I experienced Tracy: friend, confidant, mother, wife, sister, daughter, avid volunteer, faithful, strong, loving, open, engaging, vibrant, caring, gifted, bright, funny, giver of parties, kind, outgoing, beautiful, and fair.
Oh, and I will include 3 last words too: loved, missed, remembered.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Not all parenting tasks are created equally
I am facing a loss and as much as it pains me, I have a larger worry. As difficult as it is to accept the impending death of a friend, a fellow mother, it is even harder to contemplate how to explain to my eleven year old that her best friend's mom is going to die. Some lessons in life are harder than others and I had hoped to spare Chloe this particular lesson until she was older. But the world isn't perfect, or even fair for that matter, and we're stuck making sense of the hand we're dealt.
Which leaves me with consoling a child who will miss an adult she is fond of, and has known most of her life, and who will grieve for her friend. More troubling to me is how to confront her loss of faith in constancy and stability. Chloe will now have to face the sad truth that her parents are indeed vulnerable. Anyone can die, and that is a scary truth to deal with at any age. We have been very fortunate and blessed, Chloe has enjoyed an extremely sheltered childhood with few notable traumas. No deaths or divorces have marred her life up to this point. Which I guess means, sadly it's time.
Parenting is never a simple task, but some aspects are markedly more challenging than others. I want Chloe to be able to empathize with her friend's loss, but not to identify with it so strongly that she loses her own sense of security. And, I get to manage this while dealing with the sadness of losing a second young friend to cancer.
For us the answer lies in our faith. Because I need Chloe to understand that, even in the face of the worst tragedy, God is with her, and promises to shoulder that grief for her. I can't assure Chloe that her dad and I won't get sick, or die, but what I can give her is the promise that only God can make. The promise that death is not the end for those with a belief in Christ, that her hope and faith in a secure future, while not guaranteed on this earth, is a certainty with her Heavenly Father. But even armed with that knowledge it's hard to say goodbye, and it's hard to watch those you love suffer. I suspect it's something we'll both be struggling with for the next few weeks.
Which leaves me with consoling a child who will miss an adult she is fond of, and has known most of her life, and who will grieve for her friend. More troubling to me is how to confront her loss of faith in constancy and stability. Chloe will now have to face the sad truth that her parents are indeed vulnerable. Anyone can die, and that is a scary truth to deal with at any age. We have been very fortunate and blessed, Chloe has enjoyed an extremely sheltered childhood with few notable traumas. No deaths or divorces have marred her life up to this point. Which I guess means, sadly it's time.
Parenting is never a simple task, but some aspects are markedly more challenging than others. I want Chloe to be able to empathize with her friend's loss, but not to identify with it so strongly that she loses her own sense of security. And, I get to manage this while dealing with the sadness of losing a second young friend to cancer.
For us the answer lies in our faith. Because I need Chloe to understand that, even in the face of the worst tragedy, God is with her, and promises to shoulder that grief for her. I can't assure Chloe that her dad and I won't get sick, or die, but what I can give her is the promise that only God can make. The promise that death is not the end for those with a belief in Christ, that her hope and faith in a secure future, while not guaranteed on this earth, is a certainty with her Heavenly Father. But even armed with that knowledge it's hard to say goodbye, and it's hard to watch those you love suffer. I suspect it's something we'll both be struggling with for the next few weeks.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
"Soul"y Responsible
My blog has been kind of quiet lately, I'm guessing that's in part due to a break that my "Boundaries" study group has taken over the last few weeks. Those women just have an unbelievably, gentle way of dragging me kicking and screaming to the truth. The clarity that comes out of these study times sometimes astounds me. Today was one of those days.
We started off talking about one member's daughter who has gone off to college. Academically she's got it all together, her spiritual life however is proving to be a bigger challenge, at least that's what her mom is worried about. We sat and listened and let her talk it out, and then we all agreed that in the end, it's just hard letting them go and potentially fall victim to the very things we worked so hard, for so many years protecting them from.
I said "it's hard to be a parent and be solely responsible for someone". And that's when it hit me like a ton of bricks, which is an odd euphemism for hearing God break in and speak to you, but in all honesty my guess is, that due to a general lack of perception on my part, bricks are what He's left with in order to garner my attention. The truth is, that no one loves your child the way God does, no one *knows* your child like God does, and certainly no one has a bigger investment in their success than He does.
You'd have thought it was a lesson I had already learned with one of my own. In second grade Chloe had a horrible, horrible year. To begin with she was struggling with a lack of focus, and compounding that problem was a classroom setting worthy of a horror movie. An incredibly disturbed child continually acted out violently, finally necessitating a code word for classroom evacuation. At the end of the year, many people encouraged me to write letters requesting specific teachers, or classroom settings, which I will admit I was tempted to do. In the end though, I decided to test God, took a leap of faith, and just gave the whole situation over to Him, with the understanding that no one had more insight about what Chloe needed than He did. The results could not have been better. In every way 3rd grade was a success, and I learned my first real lesson in intentional prayer, and entrusting my children to God.
I'd love to tell you how consistent I am with that faith, but we all know how untrue that would be. Realistically it's a process, one of God raising my husband and me while we, along with Him, raise our children. In the give and take of every day life we have to remind ourselves daily of His promise to walk alongside us in partnership as we uncover the mysteries of His wonderful gifts that are our children.
Maybe you're skeptical, a control freak, or just really don't believe it. If so, I have a challenge for you. The next time you're faced with a particularly difficult parenting decision, take a moment and ask the One who uniquely knit that child in your womb *His* perspective, and I promise parenting will never be the same again.
We started off talking about one member's daughter who has gone off to college. Academically she's got it all together, her spiritual life however is proving to be a bigger challenge, at least that's what her mom is worried about. We sat and listened and let her talk it out, and then we all agreed that in the end, it's just hard letting them go and potentially fall victim to the very things we worked so hard, for so many years protecting them from.
I said "it's hard to be a parent and be solely responsible for someone". And that's when it hit me like a ton of bricks, which is an odd euphemism for hearing God break in and speak to you, but in all honesty my guess is, that due to a general lack of perception on my part, bricks are what He's left with in order to garner my attention. The truth is, that no one loves your child the way God does, no one *knows* your child like God does, and certainly no one has a bigger investment in their success than He does.
You'd have thought it was a lesson I had already learned with one of my own. In second grade Chloe had a horrible, horrible year. To begin with she was struggling with a lack of focus, and compounding that problem was a classroom setting worthy of a horror movie. An incredibly disturbed child continually acted out violently, finally necessitating a code word for classroom evacuation. At the end of the year, many people encouraged me to write letters requesting specific teachers, or classroom settings, which I will admit I was tempted to do. In the end though, I decided to test God, took a leap of faith, and just gave the whole situation over to Him, with the understanding that no one had more insight about what Chloe needed than He did. The results could not have been better. In every way 3rd grade was a success, and I learned my first real lesson in intentional prayer, and entrusting my children to God.
I'd love to tell you how consistent I am with that faith, but we all know how untrue that would be. Realistically it's a process, one of God raising my husband and me while we, along with Him, raise our children. In the give and take of every day life we have to remind ourselves daily of His promise to walk alongside us in partnership as we uncover the mysteries of His wonderful gifts that are our children.
Maybe you're skeptical, a control freak, or just really don't believe it. If so, I have a challenge for you. The next time you're faced with a particularly difficult parenting decision, take a moment and ask the One who uniquely knit that child in your womb *His* perspective, and I promise parenting will never be the same again.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Adventures in swim suit buying. (An oldie but goodie)
Well, as you know, I have an exotic trip coming up and need a bathing suit. So I see this beautiful orange wrap style "slimsuit" in a catalog with a matching pareo and I just *know* it's going to look great on me. I envision Andre and I walking hand in hand on this white sand beach with me looking stunning in my glamorous suit. Fast forward to yesterday when it finally arrived. My first inclination of trouble should have been when I felt the fabric. I mean, this is like high grade rubber, Chloe could use it for a trampoline! Well, I think, it's a tummy control panel and I continued to try it on.
The darn thing actually comes with instructions! "Step one: inch the slimsuit on slowly as you would a pair of pantyhose." Check. "Step two: position underwire under breasts." Well, it's more like: lift sagging boobs above underwire, but OK, check. "Step three: VERY carefully pull straps up taking care as to not accidentally unfasten said straps which could literally slingshot around and do permanent eye damage." (OK, so I added the part about the slingshot, you get the picture). Check. "Step four: stand back and admire. Slimsuit will take at least one inch off your waist and hips." Check. I mean it really DOES take off an inch and looks great, until I look at the view from the rear. OMG, it has taken an inch of fat off and PUSHED it up where no fat should be. I mean, now I have a hump the size of Mt. Everest! I look like Quasimoto! But, never fear, I have yet to wrap the gorgeous pareo around my now cinched waist. Surely that will distract from the obvious lump displayed on my upper back. BTW, how the heck do you tie those things anyway? OK, check, it's tied, but now I realize that I just look like a camel in an orange rubber tube with a rag tied around my waist. So, now the question remains: Do I need to visit the tanning booth before my trip if I'm going to wear a full length robe on the beach???
The darn thing actually comes with instructions! "Step one: inch the slimsuit on slowly as you would a pair of pantyhose." Check. "Step two: position underwire under breasts." Well, it's more like: lift sagging boobs above underwire, but OK, check. "Step three: VERY carefully pull straps up taking care as to not accidentally unfasten said straps which could literally slingshot around and do permanent eye damage." (OK, so I added the part about the slingshot, you get the picture). Check. "Step four: stand back and admire. Slimsuit will take at least one inch off your waist and hips." Check. I mean it really DOES take off an inch and looks great, until I look at the view from the rear. OMG, it has taken an inch of fat off and PUSHED it up where no fat should be. I mean, now I have a hump the size of Mt. Everest! I look like Quasimoto! But, never fear, I have yet to wrap the gorgeous pareo around my now cinched waist. Surely that will distract from the obvious lump displayed on my upper back. BTW, how the heck do you tie those things anyway? OK, check, it's tied, but now I realize that I just look like a camel in an orange rubber tube with a rag tied around my waist. So, now the question remains: Do I need to visit the tanning booth before my trip if I'm going to wear a full length robe on the beach???
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
In life you can't always get the upper locker
I did the first round of registration at middle school for my youngest child today. It was bittersweet; I can't believe my "baby" is almost 12, well honestly that's easier to swallow than having my oldest be almost 21, or turning 45 next month, but I digress.
It's an exciting and nerve wracking time entering middle school to be sure, so I wasn't completely surprised at the range of emotions the kids displayed today. I *was* shocked though at some of the parental responses to those emotions. One child, when assigned a lower locker, burst into tears. The upper lockers are always coveted because people tend to drop things, sometimes heavy things on those with lower lockers. I get the disappointment, but crying? Really?
Back in the day, if that had happened a parent would have said "it's ok, it's not that bad, you'll get used to it" and let it go. Nowadays the first thing a parent would do is march over and demand another locker to "fix it", so that their child would be happy. Because that's what matters now, that their children always be happy and never, ever be disappointed.
The sad thing is, what does that teach them, other than that they're entitled to whatever they want, whenever they want it? That all they need to do is throw a hissy fit until they get their way? And, it's not just about gaining material things.
We have an entire generation of people who have lost the ability to learn from their adversities. And there is much to be learned. Appreciation, grace, dignity, and humility are just a few of the skills that come to mind. Being able to handle a fiasco with tact and finesse is a lost art, as anyone who has entered an airport recently can attest to. Instead, we're faced with an army of angry, demanding, unyielding people. Where does that leave us?
There's certainly nothing wrong with striving for a particular thing, or outcome. Just like there is nothing wrong with being sad when it doesn't work out. The gift is in the lesson learned in the meantime. As Mick Jagger said "You can't always get what you want. You can try sometimes, and you just might find you get what you need". And, in the end, isn't that what we *really* want for our kids, that they find what they need?
It's an exciting and nerve wracking time entering middle school to be sure, so I wasn't completely surprised at the range of emotions the kids displayed today. I *was* shocked though at some of the parental responses to those emotions. One child, when assigned a lower locker, burst into tears. The upper lockers are always coveted because people tend to drop things, sometimes heavy things on those with lower lockers. I get the disappointment, but crying? Really?
Back in the day, if that had happened a parent would have said "it's ok, it's not that bad, you'll get used to it" and let it go. Nowadays the first thing a parent would do is march over and demand another locker to "fix it", so that their child would be happy. Because that's what matters now, that their children always be happy and never, ever be disappointed.
The sad thing is, what does that teach them, other than that they're entitled to whatever they want, whenever they want it? That all they need to do is throw a hissy fit until they get their way? And, it's not just about gaining material things.
We have an entire generation of people who have lost the ability to learn from their adversities. And there is much to be learned. Appreciation, grace, dignity, and humility are just a few of the skills that come to mind. Being able to handle a fiasco with tact and finesse is a lost art, as anyone who has entered an airport recently can attest to. Instead, we're faced with an army of angry, demanding, unyielding people. Where does that leave us?
There's certainly nothing wrong with striving for a particular thing, or outcome. Just like there is nothing wrong with being sad when it doesn't work out. The gift is in the lesson learned in the meantime. As Mick Jagger said "You can't always get what you want. You can try sometimes, and you just might find you get what you need". And, in the end, isn't that what we *really* want for our kids, that they find what they need?
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Reality Check
Last week my daughter and I watched (or should I say, were shocked and couldn't look away from) the reality show "Jerseylicious". For those of you who have not seen the show (and it definitely is a "show"), and feel the need to delve into the seedier part of life, you can tune in and experience it for yourselves. My blog is not about the show per se, although it, and pretty much every other minute of reality television could certainly provide a ton of writing material. It's really about one of the story lines this week that revolved around an interesting practice apparently popular in New Jersey called "Trash the Dress". The premise being that you don your wedding dress (post wedding of course) and literally "trash" your dress while being photographed. I must admit the idea was completely foreign and bizarre to me. Who would spend all that money on a dress only to purposely destroy it? And then I realized my larger concern, *everything* in our society is disposable.
Clearly the ability to have disposable, single use items such as diapers, razors and soda cans is a huge convenience. But, the term "disposable" has so invaded our vocabularies that it's attached to all manner of things from plates and cameras to incomes. The problem, in my opinion, is that too many individuals seem to treat their entire lives like paper napkins,to use and toss. This approach is applied to everything from material possessions to marriages. Nothing is cherished, or deemed important enough to really work at or salvage. Sick of your cell phone? Buy a new one. Not satisfied with your job? Find another. Marriage hit a rough spot? No problem, there's no fault divorce.
When did we sink so low as to rate our relationships like our toys, to be tossed aside at the first sign of frustration, boredom, or inconvenience? In our zeal to take advantage of our multitudes of blessings we have failed to appreciate the biggest ones of all, each other. The definition of disposable is "expendable", and "unnecessary". Really? Is that what people are now? Are our friendships, families, marriages and even pregnancies so unimportant, so easily replaced that they can be thrown away so readily?
I hope not, I pray not, because in my experience there is nothing so valuable, so irreplaceable as people. The only things we should be tossing are the things taking the place of what's really important.
Clearly the ability to have disposable, single use items such as diapers, razors and soda cans is a huge convenience. But, the term "disposable" has so invaded our vocabularies that it's attached to all manner of things from plates and cameras to incomes. The problem, in my opinion, is that too many individuals seem to treat their entire lives like paper napkins,to use and toss. This approach is applied to everything from material possessions to marriages. Nothing is cherished, or deemed important enough to really work at or salvage. Sick of your cell phone? Buy a new one. Not satisfied with your job? Find another. Marriage hit a rough spot? No problem, there's no fault divorce.
When did we sink so low as to rate our relationships like our toys, to be tossed aside at the first sign of frustration, boredom, or inconvenience? In our zeal to take advantage of our multitudes of blessings we have failed to appreciate the biggest ones of all, each other. The definition of disposable is "expendable", and "unnecessary". Really? Is that what people are now? Are our friendships, families, marriages and even pregnancies so unimportant, so easily replaced that they can be thrown away so readily?
I hope not, I pray not, because in my experience there is nothing so valuable, so irreplaceable as people. The only things we should be tossing are the things taking the place of what's really important.
Monday, July 19, 2010
No Service Here
I am spoiled. Okay? I admit it. My husband travels a lot. A whole lot. And, he has acquired the coveted "Platinum Status" on one airline, which I won't reveal, but whose name starts with a "C" and ends with an "l" and there is an o-n-t-i-n-e-n-t-a in the middle. With all of his flying, he enjoys this status and I enjoy it too. I freely admit I like the priority luggage handling, not to mention that I can take 2 bags for free, and they don't even get hinky if I bring extra shoes and the bags are a bit heavy. I appreciate the free first class upgrades, the early boarding and the free drinks in the President's Club while we wait for our flight. In short, I enjoy the pampering, I relish the *service*.
But honestly, shouldn't good service be expected with the purchase of every ticket? I understand the drive for certain perks for people who fly often, it reinforces loyalty in an industry that is largely ruled by price. However, even though I personally don't fly a lot, if I pay several hundred dollars for a seat, don't I have the right to expect a certain level of accommodation as well?
Part of the trouble stems from downsizing the airline workforce to cut costs. And, I get that, I'm a capitalist girl. Why pay 10 people to do the job when 5 can reasonably handle it? Here's the rub though. No one seems to take pride in their work anymore. As we were struggling in Memphis trying to find an alternate flight for our delayed one, we were directed over and over to the self serve kiosk. Now, I don't have any innate issue with using a machine EXCEPT when said machine is not programmed to assist with my problem. Repeatedly we tried to get one of the kiosk "assistants" (I use the term loosely, but to be fair they *were* assisting, well, assisting each other with gossip), but they pointedly ignored us until finally I started to lose it, and one lady ambled over and said "oh yeah, you have to go to "special services" for that. Anyone know how Delta defines "special services"? If you guessed "an empty counter with no one working", then ding, ding, ding you win the prize. And through all this I couldn't help but wonder where the idea of service has gone. Why did not one of those employed "assistants" bother to see what was wrong *before* we missed our SECOND flight option ? Why did none of them call for a manager to help? Why did no one *care* that we spent $2300 only to be delayed 5 times on 4 flights, have 2 flights canceled, and spend and unreasonable amount of time looking for someone competent enough that was willing to do their job? I'm not sure I can blame *any* company for replacing workers like that with machines.
So, as I get ready to undertake another trip, I am comforted by the fact that *this* time I can expect to be treated well, that my luggage (both bags) checked early, will be first off the plane and there will always be someone there ready and willing to fix any problems that crop up, because of course this time, I'm traveling with Mr. Million Miles. But, I will be looking for the familiar frustrated face of the poor soul who, lacking this elite status, battles for someone, anyone to provide him with the service he also paid for.
But honestly, shouldn't good service be expected with the purchase of every ticket? I understand the drive for certain perks for people who fly often, it reinforces loyalty in an industry that is largely ruled by price. However, even though I personally don't fly a lot, if I pay several hundred dollars for a seat, don't I have the right to expect a certain level of accommodation as well?
Part of the trouble stems from downsizing the airline workforce to cut costs. And, I get that, I'm a capitalist girl. Why pay 10 people to do the job when 5 can reasonably handle it? Here's the rub though. No one seems to take pride in their work anymore. As we were struggling in Memphis trying to find an alternate flight for our delayed one, we were directed over and over to the self serve kiosk. Now, I don't have any innate issue with using a machine EXCEPT when said machine is not programmed to assist with my problem. Repeatedly we tried to get one of the kiosk "assistants" (I use the term loosely, but to be fair they *were* assisting, well, assisting each other with gossip), but they pointedly ignored us until finally I started to lose it, and one lady ambled over and said "oh yeah, you have to go to "special services" for that. Anyone know how Delta defines "special services"? If you guessed "an empty counter with no one working", then ding, ding, ding you win the prize. And through all this I couldn't help but wonder where the idea of service has gone. Why did not one of those employed "assistants" bother to see what was wrong *before* we missed our SECOND flight option ? Why did none of them call for a manager to help? Why did no one *care* that we spent $2300 only to be delayed 5 times on 4 flights, have 2 flights canceled, and spend and unreasonable amount of time looking for someone competent enough that was willing to do their job? I'm not sure I can blame *any* company for replacing workers like that with machines.
So, as I get ready to undertake another trip, I am comforted by the fact that *this* time I can expect to be treated well, that my luggage (both bags) checked early, will be first off the plane and there will always be someone there ready and willing to fix any problems that crop up, because of course this time, I'm traveling with Mr. Million Miles. But, I will be looking for the familiar frustrated face of the poor soul who, lacking this elite status, battles for someone, anyone to provide him with the service he also paid for.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Great Expectations
I have never thought of myself as a naive person, so imagine my surprise at recently being informed by several different people (ok, one of which was my oldest daughter who thinks I'm perpetually out of the loop) that I have some unrealistic expectations. Our discussions had initially revolved around an unfortunate lawsuit we find ourselves embroiled in, which is whole 'nother blog post (I promise I'll warn you ahead of time), but gradually I began to realize that my expectations are indeed different.
I actually believed this foray into the civil justice system (and I use the term as loosely as possible here) to be about truth. We would tell the truth and the judge would look at the evidence and that would be that. I could not have been more wrong. Instead it's become a game of who's "side" is more believable, and the bigger the spin, the better. It's way worse than buying a used car by the way. But, that isn't even the most disturbing aspect of it all. No one, except me, seems to find any of this the least bit surprising.
There is a growing apathy in this world toward certain previous standards of behavior and it's very disturbing. At first when confronted with this conflict of expectations I was shocked, then I grew defensive disputing my naivety, then, I just became sad. What is wrong with expecting the truth? What is naive about the notion that people should be honest and, better still, be held accountable if they're not? Everywhere I look people seem to treat truth like it's an offering in a cafeteria line to be passed up with disdain like cooked spinach. When did we replace integrity and ethics with justification and apathy? Why don't we hold people to higher standards, especially our courts and elected officials? If we don't require a certain level of sincerity is it reasonable to think anyone at all will adhere to any standards?
I've been told that it's simplistic to say that this course is wrong. Well, I don't care, it *is* wrong. And, you can label me gullible, naive, guileless, whatever, it doesn't matter. I refuse to lower my expectations or to allow justification and cynicism to replace integrity in my life. Great Expectations? You bet, and I won't apologize for it.
I actually believed this foray into the civil justice system (and I use the term as loosely as possible here) to be about truth. We would tell the truth and the judge would look at the evidence and that would be that. I could not have been more wrong. Instead it's become a game of who's "side" is more believable, and the bigger the spin, the better. It's way worse than buying a used car by the way. But, that isn't even the most disturbing aspect of it all. No one, except me, seems to find any of this the least bit surprising.
There is a growing apathy in this world toward certain previous standards of behavior and it's very disturbing. At first when confronted with this conflict of expectations I was shocked, then I grew defensive disputing my naivety, then, I just became sad. What is wrong with expecting the truth? What is naive about the notion that people should be honest and, better still, be held accountable if they're not? Everywhere I look people seem to treat truth like it's an offering in a cafeteria line to be passed up with disdain like cooked spinach. When did we replace integrity and ethics with justification and apathy? Why don't we hold people to higher standards, especially our courts and elected officials? If we don't require a certain level of sincerity is it reasonable to think anyone at all will adhere to any standards?
I've been told that it's simplistic to say that this course is wrong. Well, I don't care, it *is* wrong. And, you can label me gullible, naive, guileless, whatever, it doesn't matter. I refuse to lower my expectations or to allow justification and cynicism to replace integrity in my life. Great Expectations? You bet, and I won't apologize for it.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Say what you need to say
I am losing a friend and it breaks. my. heart. Watching someone you love grow ill and suffer is hard, watching them die is devastating, but my heartbreak stems not from those struggles as much as it does from a deeper sorrow. I feel like I'm failing her. You see, I am a believer and she is not. I think it's safe to say that everyone who knows me knows I'm a Christian. I've certainly never kept it a secret. I talk about how I love my church, my core group kids, my church family, but....when was the last time I mentioned why? Why am I a Christian, why do I believe? When have I talked with her about what joy and purpose and strength it has brought to my life knowing that the God of the universe cares about me so much that He died to ensure that I could be with Him forever? And, in this I have failed her and it grieves me to no end. It's not about theology, or what you *should* believe, a set of prescribed rules. Rather it's about a relationship, a peace that I would give anything for her to have. So, you ask, what are you waiting for, why not just tell her? I don't have the answer to that, but perhaps an opening or opportunity will present itself, it's what I pray for. A verse from a song keeps coming to mind "You better know that in the end it's better to say too much than to never say what you need to say again." And,I think that's a reminder we all need from time to time.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
I find myself in a situation that is somewhat unusual, or should I say unusual for me, at least from what I've been used to. For the first time in a while a large percentage of the people I talk with and care about have children substantially younger than me. It's been a lot of fun reliving moments like those I experienced with my own three daughters (the youngest of which is entering middle school in the fall), as well as remembering the hardships of early childhood that I went through (potty training my middle one comes to mind). Having come out on the other side of the "toddler/preschool tunnel" as I call it, I have to say: "Gosh, it was so much easier then".
Ok, all you sleep deprived mothers of babies and toddlers, hear me out before you meet up at my door with torches and pitchforks. It's not that I think babies are a breeze or toddlers trouble free, but to those of you who have dreamed of the days of blissful full nights of sleep once you have self reliant kids I say (and pardon the pun) "dream on". Yes, early childhood presents itself and you with a lot of work, which is mostly physical. In early childhood they need you absolutely, and for the most part their requirements are straight forward and easily remedied. Once they are teens you abdicate a large portion of their need to individuals who are completely outside your control. Your trust in yourself as a caregiver has to give way to trust in your child as a decision maker. The hurts in infancy and childhood are easily addressed. I would choose rocking a fussy baby with teething pain all night over listening to my teenage daughter cry after a bad breakup. Sure, my husband and I can get out more often, but the worry is so much greater. Our date night conversations have morphed from concerns that the babysitter may be unable to soothe them, to fretting over who they're driving with, and whether the party they're at is serving alcohol. When little you remind them to brush their teeth before bed, as teens you remind them not to ever get in a car with someone who's been drinking. But, the penalty is so much more severe when they're adolescents. Forgetting to use the potty at age five and wetting the bed is frustrating to be sure, but your teen choosing to have unprotected sex is a whole other ball of wax. A friend of mine confided that she had altered her prayers for her kids from asking for health and protection when they were little ones, to asking God to place people in the paths of her teens who would appropriately guide them, and to ask that her teens never make a decision from which they can't recover.
It is undeniably a challenging, difficult thing to be a mother, each phase presenting unique challenges. And as the years race by, and you my friends, the blessed mommies of babies and toddlers, watch them grow and change in a heartbeat, I think you'll see that your love and worries get just as big as they do.
Ok, all you sleep deprived mothers of babies and toddlers, hear me out before you meet up at my door with torches and pitchforks. It's not that I think babies are a breeze or toddlers trouble free, but to those of you who have dreamed of the days of blissful full nights of sleep once you have self reliant kids I say (and pardon the pun) "dream on". Yes, early childhood presents itself and you with a lot of work, which is mostly physical. In early childhood they need you absolutely, and for the most part their requirements are straight forward and easily remedied. Once they are teens you abdicate a large portion of their need to individuals who are completely outside your control. Your trust in yourself as a caregiver has to give way to trust in your child as a decision maker. The hurts in infancy and childhood are easily addressed. I would choose rocking a fussy baby with teething pain all night over listening to my teenage daughter cry after a bad breakup. Sure, my husband and I can get out more often, but the worry is so much greater. Our date night conversations have morphed from concerns that the babysitter may be unable to soothe them, to fretting over who they're driving with, and whether the party they're at is serving alcohol. When little you remind them to brush their teeth before bed, as teens you remind them not to ever get in a car with someone who's been drinking. But, the penalty is so much more severe when they're adolescents. Forgetting to use the potty at age five and wetting the bed is frustrating to be sure, but your teen choosing to have unprotected sex is a whole other ball of wax. A friend of mine confided that she had altered her prayers for her kids from asking for health and protection when they were little ones, to asking God to place people in the paths of her teens who would appropriately guide them, and to ask that her teens never make a decision from which they can't recover.
It is undeniably a challenging, difficult thing to be a mother, each phase presenting unique challenges. And as the years race by, and you my friends, the blessed mommies of babies and toddlers, watch them grow and change in a heartbeat, I think you'll see that your love and worries get just as big as they do.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Abundant Strife
Most of us have heard the expression "Abundant Life". For those of us who are Christian, we are taught that abundant life is something that Jesus longs for us to attain. But as I look around lately all I can see is "Abundant Strife". My husband and I have known for a couple of years that we were in a "pruning season", a time in your life where God cuts away damaged, unfruitful, or sometimes overly productive growth in order to focus growth in more mature , sustainable, stronger branches. In other words, he's shaping us in ways that He feels we need to be in order to further His Kingdom. At first, we would acknowledge the "shaping" by jokingly referring to "being pruned", or sometimes when something unpleasant or unwanted would occur we would lightheartedly look at each other and say "snip snip". But gradually the gentle sound of pruning shears began to give way to the soul wrenching sound of an industrial chain saw. Bad things that always "come in threes" continually showed up in multiples much larger and frightening than the joked about triplicate and I began to ask myself (and everyone around me who would listen) "Is this ever going to get any better?" I must admit that I've never considered myself particularly faithful, more like a "Doubting Thomas". Not that I've ever doubted my salvation, but I am not a very good abider. In fact most of my favorite "reminder" scriptures revolve around a similar theme, that being trust, abide, and "being still". None of which are my strong suits, or so I thought. Yet as I watch with wonder my daughter who, dutifully, *faithfully* runs out in the backyard daily to check the growth of her watermelon plants,taking joy not only in success, but in the process, I realize that my difficulty lies not in my ability to *measure* abundance, but rather in how I define it. We were never given any promises of ease, or endless happiness in this life, but Christ did promise us that He would never leave us and, that at the end of it all, we would go to live with Him. He had abundant life because He understood that contentment was not just about getting what we want, but in gaining perspective and the ability to truly appreciate what we already have. Sometimes living life, every day, both the good and the bad is the greatest measure of faith.
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