It has been raining nonstop here and while the trees and grass are more lush than any Spring in recent memory, I fear my fledgling little garden has been washed away. It really shouldn't come as much of a surprise. I have never been gifted as either a chef or a gardener. I am simply not patient enough to do things properly to insure a strong outcome.
In the kitchen, I cut corners to speed up the culinary process. I put food in the oven before it is completely preheated. I pop things in the refrigerator to speed up cooling. I turn up the heat beyond recommended levels to shorten cooking time. I don't want to be bothered with reading a recipe book thoroughly or taking a class. I 'wing it' and the results are usually fine--but rarely stellar.
Similarly, when I decide to plant something it is always on a whim. Such is the case with my most recent pursuit. A quick errand to my local home improvement store led me to the nursery. Seed packets were 50% off, so I snagged a handful. Why not?
When we got home we had 30 minutes before church, so I decided to plant a garden. In my flats and colored jeans I hastily prepared soil along a fence line in our backyard. Seeds were scattered somewhat haphazardly by me and a trio of 8 year old helpers, before being quickly recovered in dirt and a little topsoil I had left from the last project. Watering cans were used to douse our 8ft x 2ft line of seeds. We hoped for the best and moved on to the next project.
In the 10-12 days since the planting, I have checked occasionally. The resilient skyscraper sunflowers are off to a great start. Bean seeds were planted on an incline (and clearly not deeply enough). All the runoff from the recent rain has unearthed them and left them exposed. The cucumbers have yet to sprout so their fate remains a mystery.
As I have thought about my slacker gardening approach, I've pondered the correlation to other things in life and their consequences. When impulses and desires are followed on a whim with little thought as we rush from thing to thing trying to cram life in along the way, the fruit (or lack thereof) often reflects it.
When soil is not tended and shortcuts are abundant, seeds don't take, roots don't grow deep and fruit does not appear. This is not the hallmark many would want to claim for their lives. Yet, we do this...with our finances, relationships, health, parenting...
I am reminded of an old Andy Stanley quote, "Direction, not intention, determines your destination."
It is not what I hope or plan that determines the outcome, it is what I do (or don't) do. Intentionality has become my mantra. I have only a decade left with minors living in my nest. Yet, I must admit I cannot force these children to grow and mature any more than I can the seeds out in my backyard.
When I was a sleep deprived mother of little ones I would hear older Mamas speak of 'a different kind of tired' as children age. They were getting 8 hours sleep and had kids in school all day...what could they mean by that?!? As we approach 9th birthdays I am starting to get it.
What keeps me up at night now is not crying infants, but gnawing concerns about character. Lord, what do I do with this precious one's propensity to blame others? That dear one's struggle with frustration and defeat? The impatience and approval seeking of another?
When I forget they are HIS, the pressure to guide these hearts and tend these souls wears on me...But when I rely on God, He is faithful to show where to water, what to fertilize and even where to weed. In the case of my babes, I don't even fully know what seeds were in each of their packets to begin with--but their creator does. As they grow they offer clues and delightful surprises.
Lord, I dare not take shortcuts with little souls. May I never see my children as simply a project. Strengthen me to tend young hearts with far more commitment than my impulsive gardens.
I commit to pray and their Creator is faithful to bring sunshine and rain as I (somewhat impatiently) watch expectantly for things to bloom.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Days to Come
After a week filled with media saturation and sadness at the brokenness of this world we live in, it was a delightful Saturday. Under crisp blue skies and abundant sunshine we bounced from a church service project to soccer fields to baseball games. We returned home to an afternoon of riding bikes with friends, ice cream downtown and an evening campout. So much life and laughter permeated an especially active day!
As we casually rode bikes along the river we encountered a dozen teenaged couples all decked out for Prom. Most were clearly uncomfortable with the pageantry and the parent papparaazi constantly adjusting them and forcing them to pose. While I know it is a milestone most treasure, from my vantage point on a bike in casual clothes with dirty faced children, the whole Prom scene seemed painfully contrived.
While I try to be the parent that embraces every stage, I confess I grimaced and thought: "Ugh. I am NOT going to enjoy that."
I would much rather be racing my snaggle-toothed children along the bike paths in yoga pants than dealing with tuxes and makeup and fretting over teenaged temptations. Just thinking about it makes my chest tighten a little.
As we zipped by, it felt like a good reminder--to be grateful and to savor these fleeting days.
The word savor conjures up such positive feelings. We associate it with goodness, gratefulness and enjoyment.
All of these thoughts were challenged a bit Sunday morning when our associate pastor, Bill, reminded the congregation that these are not our best days.
Last Thursday, in the throes of the destruction and heartbreak in Texas and Boston, I would have lifted hearty amens in response to Bill's reminder. Come quickly, Lord. Rescue us! Bring us the future you have promised. These are the cries of my heart when the world seems shaky and doesn't make any sense. The very time I wish to freeze in happy times, can't move quickly enough when we are uncomfortable and questioning. Tragedy turns our eyes for the help we know we cannot simply muster within ourselves. We long to be delivered to the Promised Land.
But what of the sun saturated, glorious days? What about the seasons when life is full and rich and sweet? Frankly, these days seem to be my downfall. I too often cross the line from simply being grateful for them to clinging to them. I mistake these glimpses of Heaven for the real thing. It is idolatry if I am honest. When I switch to cruise control, I don't feel as reliant on God. Grateful, yes...but not necessarily abiding.
The trouble with holding too tightly, is that it makes me prideful and greedy. Instead of extending my circle to include those who may need a glimpse of this laughter, light and joy, I tighten my circle in fear that we will lose these moments. I am fairly certain this is not the way we are called to live. Aren't we called to have our hands open to give and to receive rather than clenched to hold tightly to what we perceive as "it."
I forget that THIS is not it. These are NOT our best days.
And when it comes to laughter, joy, love, peace...there is no need to be greedy. Through the Lord there is always enough. His grace and love are abundant and eternal.
So today I pray for a Godly perspective--an abiding peace and attitude of gratitude that is not dependent on having the answer, or the sunshine, or my personal enjoyment of the chapter of life.
Circumstances change constantly.
Seasons come and go.
This world is not our home.
This life is not my life.
He alone is worthy of my clinging.
As we casually rode bikes along the river we encountered a dozen teenaged couples all decked out for Prom. Most were clearly uncomfortable with the pageantry and the parent papparaazi constantly adjusting them and forcing them to pose. While I know it is a milestone most treasure, from my vantage point on a bike in casual clothes with dirty faced children, the whole Prom scene seemed painfully contrived.
While I try to be the parent that embraces every stage, I confess I grimaced and thought: "Ugh. I am NOT going to enjoy that."
I would much rather be racing my snaggle-toothed children along the bike paths in yoga pants than dealing with tuxes and makeup and fretting over teenaged temptations. Just thinking about it makes my chest tighten a little.
As we zipped by, it felt like a good reminder--to be grateful and to savor these fleeting days.
The word savor conjures up such positive feelings. We associate it with goodness, gratefulness and enjoyment.
All of these thoughts were challenged a bit Sunday morning when our associate pastor, Bill, reminded the congregation that these are not our best days.
Last Thursday, in the throes of the destruction and heartbreak in Texas and Boston, I would have lifted hearty amens in response to Bill's reminder. Come quickly, Lord. Rescue us! Bring us the future you have promised. These are the cries of my heart when the world seems shaky and doesn't make any sense. The very time I wish to freeze in happy times, can't move quickly enough when we are uncomfortable and questioning. Tragedy turns our eyes for the help we know we cannot simply muster within ourselves. We long to be delivered to the Promised Land.
But what of the sun saturated, glorious days? What about the seasons when life is full and rich and sweet? Frankly, these days seem to be my downfall. I too often cross the line from simply being grateful for them to clinging to them. I mistake these glimpses of Heaven for the real thing. It is idolatry if I am honest. When I switch to cruise control, I don't feel as reliant on God. Grateful, yes...but not necessarily abiding.
The trouble with holding too tightly, is that it makes me prideful and greedy. Instead of extending my circle to include those who may need a glimpse of this laughter, light and joy, I tighten my circle in fear that we will lose these moments. I am fairly certain this is not the way we are called to live. Aren't we called to have our hands open to give and to receive rather than clenched to hold tightly to what we perceive as "it."
I forget that THIS is not it. These are NOT our best days.
And when it comes to laughter, joy, love, peace...there is no need to be greedy. Through the Lord there is always enough. His grace and love are abundant and eternal.
So today I pray for a Godly perspective--an abiding peace and attitude of gratitude that is not dependent on having the answer, or the sunshine, or my personal enjoyment of the chapter of life.
Circumstances change constantly.
Seasons come and go.
This world is not our home.
This life is not my life.
He alone is worthy of my clinging.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Watching Our Tone
I wasn't planning to write about this tonight, but as I discussed it with my husband over dinner K chirped, "Are you gonna put that on the blog, Mama?"
Once I got over the fact that my daughter is now offering editorial input, I asked if she thought I should.
"Definitely!" she replied.
So here you have it...content an 8 year old requested. :-)
I have been feeling increasingly convicted about the tone of voice I use with my children. Bothered by an unnecessary sharpness/bossiness in their tone, I realized I'm the source of this negative influence. I don't use words that insult or demean, but the way I convey my point likely does. It is not what I am saying, but how.
I have cringed at my own echo in my head while barking an order, correcting a mistake or expressing disapproval for an action/inaction. Simply put, when I paused long enough to think how I'd feel if someone who professed to love me spoke to me in the tone I sometimes use, I was humbled and embarrassed.
It's not hard to trace how it got to this point. When the babies were toddlers and unable to fully comprehend language or the rules of the world around them, tone was a great helper in my communication. A stern "No, Ma'am" or "No, Sir" was quite effective to correct behavior. Let's face it, when tired, frustrated, overwhelmed or outnumbered, it can be hard to breathe in, slow down and control the tongue.
I am no longer raising toddlers. Instead I am called to model godly living to a gaggle of bright 8 year olds. Their grasp of the English language and the world at large is exponentially greater than when I adopted tone as my primary tool for correction. They think, converse and reason. I have many other tools for discipline and instruction these days and they are more centered on their hearts.
While there is still a time and place for me to use my voice to drive home a point, it certainly doesn't need to continue as my default position. It's efficacy is diminished by overuse. People become defensive. We all wind up feeling badly. But despite my conviction, tone of voice is an old habit that dies hard.
This morning our pastor was preaching about sin and the human propensity to get stuck on behavior modification /morality and miss the root cause. It is a theory I have adopted in parenting--shepherding the heart--treating the disease not just the symptoms. But, when it comes to the world around me, I so often just want people to straighten up and act right! Keep their promises...Think about the implications their actions have on others....Stop being so self serving... Be kind and self controlled. (Even in my head as I type, my sharp, bossy, exasperated tone has taken over.)
I forget sometimes that these truths often transfer from parenting to marriage to friendship and the way we relate to the world. God's design for living applies to all of it. He commands us to love one another.
And just as my unloving tone towards folks I profess to adore within my home gives me pause, I can't help but wonder if this isn't a stumbling block for the non-Christian world at large. Have Christians unintentionally forgotten our tone? In our fear, overwhelm and exhaustion have we become bossy, disapproving and demanding in places where we should be speaking in love, joy, peace, kindness and goodness with gentleness and self control? Have we become so consumed with eradicating symptoms that we've forgotten it is the broader problem of sin in the world we truly oppose?
I don't intend to paint this with too broad a brush. I am not a theologian. I am just a Mama trying to love her family and glorify her God. For better of for worse, these thoughts gave me pause tonight (and my 8 year olds liked them too.)
As we were doing nightly tuck ins after this dinner conversation, P prayed:
"Dear God, will you please help me and Mom have more love in our voice?"
I echo his prayer.
Once I got over the fact that my daughter is now offering editorial input, I asked if she thought I should.
"Definitely!" she replied.
So here you have it...content an 8 year old requested. :-)
I have been feeling increasingly convicted about the tone of voice I use with my children. Bothered by an unnecessary sharpness/bossiness in their tone, I realized I'm the source of this negative influence. I don't use words that insult or demean, but the way I convey my point likely does. It is not what I am saying, but how.
I have cringed at my own echo in my head while barking an order, correcting a mistake or expressing disapproval for an action/inaction. Simply put, when I paused long enough to think how I'd feel if someone who professed to love me spoke to me in the tone I sometimes use, I was humbled and embarrassed.
It's not hard to trace how it got to this point. When the babies were toddlers and unable to fully comprehend language or the rules of the world around them, tone was a great helper in my communication. A stern "No, Ma'am" or "No, Sir" was quite effective to correct behavior. Let's face it, when tired, frustrated, overwhelmed or outnumbered, it can be hard to breathe in, slow down and control the tongue.
I am no longer raising toddlers. Instead I am called to model godly living to a gaggle of bright 8 year olds. Their grasp of the English language and the world at large is exponentially greater than when I adopted tone as my primary tool for correction. They think, converse and reason. I have many other tools for discipline and instruction these days and they are more centered on their hearts.
While there is still a time and place for me to use my voice to drive home a point, it certainly doesn't need to continue as my default position. It's efficacy is diminished by overuse. People become defensive. We all wind up feeling badly. But despite my conviction, tone of voice is an old habit that dies hard.
This morning our pastor was preaching about sin and the human propensity to get stuck on behavior modification /morality and miss the root cause. It is a theory I have adopted in parenting--shepherding the heart--treating the disease not just the symptoms. But, when it comes to the world around me, I so often just want people to straighten up and act right! Keep their promises...Think about the implications their actions have on others....Stop being so self serving... Be kind and self controlled. (Even in my head as I type, my sharp, bossy, exasperated tone has taken over.)
I forget sometimes that these truths often transfer from parenting to marriage to friendship and the way we relate to the world. God's design for living applies to all of it. He commands us to love one another.
And just as my unloving tone towards folks I profess to adore within my home gives me pause, I can't help but wonder if this isn't a stumbling block for the non-Christian world at large. Have Christians unintentionally forgotten our tone? In our fear, overwhelm and exhaustion have we become bossy, disapproving and demanding in places where we should be speaking in love, joy, peace, kindness and goodness with gentleness and self control? Have we become so consumed with eradicating symptoms that we've forgotten it is the broader problem of sin in the world we truly oppose?
I don't intend to paint this with too broad a brush. I am not a theologian. I am just a Mama trying to love her family and glorify her God. For better of for worse, these thoughts gave me pause tonight (and my 8 year olds liked them too.)
As we were doing nightly tuck ins after this dinner conversation, P prayed:
"Dear God, will you please help me and Mom have more love in our voice?"
I echo his prayer.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Our Little Preacher
All three of our children are avid readers, but reading the Bible for pleasure has not ever been on their 8 year old radar. Like many adults, they prefer books about the Bible that break it down, illustrate it, cull through to the 'main stories,' highlight the takeaway points and make Scripture easier to read.
To encourage them to read actual Scripture, my Mother-in-law, Carol, offered to pay our trio $5 for each book of the Bible they read. As I mentioned in my recent post about allowances, neither K nor P are particularly motivated by money. But R is a completely different story. He has earned $25 to spend at the school book fair in the last 48 hours.
To make sure they are reading for comprehension not just for the monetary reward, I added another requirement--a brief video synopsis I can send to Carol.
I cannot tell you how it has blessed my heart to see R so eager to sit in the kitchen each morning and read the Word--but his video reports have been the real treat. I shoot them on my phone in one take with no coaching or rehearsal..so there is plenty of stumbling and rabbit trails, but, oh, the sweetness!
Here's yesterday morning's report on Jude. (Because like any good little capitalist, he is reading the shortest books first. :)
His exegesis is far from perfect, but not bad for an 8 year old on the fly.
And I am not the only one enjoying them. A friend of mine teased she is now using them as her quiet time. :)
To encourage them to read actual Scripture, my Mother-in-law, Carol, offered to pay our trio $5 for each book of the Bible they read. As I mentioned in my recent post about allowances, neither K nor P are particularly motivated by money. But R is a completely different story. He has earned $25 to spend at the school book fair in the last 48 hours.
To make sure they are reading for comprehension not just for the monetary reward, I added another requirement--a brief video synopsis I can send to Carol.
I cannot tell you how it has blessed my heart to see R so eager to sit in the kitchen each morning and read the Word--but his video reports have been the real treat. I shoot them on my phone in one take with no coaching or rehearsal..so there is plenty of stumbling and rabbit trails, but, oh, the sweetness!
Here's yesterday morning's report on Jude. (Because like any good little capitalist, he is reading the shortest books first. :)
His exegesis is far from perfect, but not bad for an 8 year old on the fly.
And I am not the only one enjoying them. A friend of mine teased she is now using them as her quiet time. :)
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Real Beauty
I have long been a fan of the Dove Real beauty campaign videos, but when I viewed the latest release today I cried.
Near the end when the woman observes how her negative perception made her seem closed off, I winced with the truth of that statement. When wrapped up in our own insecurities we become too focused on ourselves to be open to the people and the world around us.
I continued to nod in agreement with her point regarding the impact our perception of ourselves has on our choices, our families and others around us. My heart was challenged to take that thought and expand it to more than just personal appearance--but life in general. If I view life as a gift to be savored rather than a project to be constantly evaluating and improving, I find myself buoyant with gratefulness rather than stuck in a funk.
We strive to grow, learn and blossom...but life will never be perfect on this side of Heaven.
"...women...spend a lot of time analyzing and trying to fix the things that aren't quite right and we should spend more time appreciating the things we do like."
It is, afterall, a choice. So, today, let's choose joy. Let's pause to observe the things about our husbands, children, station in life that are beautiful rather than perseverating on the parts of our life that are not.
In being grateful rather than critical, I bet we will find there is a lot we have forgotten in the fog on our overanalaysis.
You AND your life are more beautiful than you think.
Near the end when the woman observes how her negative perception made her seem closed off, I winced with the truth of that statement. When wrapped up in our own insecurities we become too focused on ourselves to be open to the people and the world around us.
I continued to nod in agreement with her point regarding the impact our perception of ourselves has on our choices, our families and others around us. My heart was challenged to take that thought and expand it to more than just personal appearance--but life in general. If I view life as a gift to be savored rather than a project to be constantly evaluating and improving, I find myself buoyant with gratefulness rather than stuck in a funk.
We strive to grow, learn and blossom...but life will never be perfect on this side of Heaven.
"...women...spend a lot of time analyzing and trying to fix the things that aren't quite right and we should spend more time appreciating the things we do like."
It is, afterall, a choice. So, today, let's choose joy. Let's pause to observe the things about our husbands, children, station in life that are beautiful rather than perseverating on the parts of our life that are not.
In being grateful rather than critical, I bet we will find there is a lot we have forgotten in the fog on our overanalaysis.
You AND your life are more beautiful than you think.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Family Tradition
I don't think I fully appreciated the importance of family traditions until I became a parent. As each year passes they seem to mean more and more to me.
Traditions, no matter how seemingly insignificant and random, serve as priceless touchstones within the bond of family. Whether it is the burrito place we stop to eat at every time we go to Atlanta, our traditional Sunday brunch or the silly "Christmas Eve gift" we play annually--these repeated experiences are reminders in a chaotic world that there is a rhythm to family, history is being made and we are a part of something bigger than ourselves.
There are books and Pinterest boards that seek to inspire traditions--and I am all about intentionality--but I find that many of the traditions unique to our tribe happened rather accidentally. The silly song I sing when I tuck them in, for example... If I had realized how many years that would stick around I certainly would have put some more thought into it!
As my children age, I am also mindful that there are incredible moments when something from my own childhood is repeated--and seeing it again through the eyes of my children is nothing short of precious. Watching them pound on the same piano I always flocked to at my Grandmama's reminds me that these are moments they will one day reminisce about. These are our children's good ole days.
This weekend represented a very special rite of passage for the males in our crew--attendance at the Masters in Augusta.
Saturday was R's turn. (He loved the strategy, the scoring, collecting cups and that the champion, Adam Scott, shares our name.)
Today it was P. (He was thrilled to get one of Freddy Couples' used golf tees, moving from hole to hole as often as possible and a quadruple turtle sighting at 16.)
K was invited but she declined on the grounds that she had no interest in being quiet and still all day. Judging from this picture, she may have been right :) She confessed today, after hearing the boys' stories, that she would definitely be ready next year!
Daddy & Granddaddy also had a ball with their young men. Each boy came back standing a little taller--a bit more of a young man than when they'd left. Amazing the impact of just one day of being a little man in the presence of elders!
For the last decade my husband & I have shared an annual date here, but it was time for me to pass the torch. Another reminder that seasons change and our people are growing up. We have other traditions. This is a sweet one to be shared!
And although I had my fears that something so special might be lost on children who aren't quite nine years old, they were quickly put to rest by the incessant chatter each afternoon about their adventure, the beaming smiles (on both boys and men) and the sweet words of P's prayer tonight:
"Dear God, thank you for the best day EVER. Amen."
Traditions, no matter how seemingly insignificant and random, serve as priceless touchstones within the bond of family. Whether it is the burrito place we stop to eat at every time we go to Atlanta, our traditional Sunday brunch or the silly "Christmas Eve gift" we play annually--these repeated experiences are reminders in a chaotic world that there is a rhythm to family, history is being made and we are a part of something bigger than ourselves.
There are books and Pinterest boards that seek to inspire traditions--and I am all about intentionality--but I find that many of the traditions unique to our tribe happened rather accidentally. The silly song I sing when I tuck them in, for example... If I had realized how many years that would stick around I certainly would have put some more thought into it!
As my children age, I am also mindful that there are incredible moments when something from my own childhood is repeated--and seeing it again through the eyes of my children is nothing short of precious. Watching them pound on the same piano I always flocked to at my Grandmama's reminds me that these are moments they will one day reminisce about. These are our children's good ole days.
This weekend represented a very special rite of passage for the males in our crew--attendance at the Masters in Augusta.
My father-in-law bought his first Masters ticket in high school for $15 and has attended annually for the last 52 years since. My mother-in-law has been by his side for most of those.
It has been 31 years since my husband attended his first Masters with his father. Through the generosity of my father-in-law, they were able to begin the tradition with my sons this weekend.
Saturday was R's turn. (He loved the strategy, the scoring, collecting cups and that the champion, Adam Scott, shares our name.)
Today it was P. (He was thrilled to get one of Freddy Couples' used golf tees, moving from hole to hole as often as possible and a quadruple turtle sighting at 16.)
K was invited but she declined on the grounds that she had no interest in being quiet and still all day. Judging from this picture, she may have been right :) She confessed today, after hearing the boys' stories, that she would definitely be ready next year!
Daddy & Granddaddy also had a ball with their young men. Each boy came back standing a little taller--a bit more of a young man than when they'd left. Amazing the impact of just one day of being a little man in the presence of elders!
For the last decade my husband & I have shared an annual date here, but it was time for me to pass the torch. Another reminder that seasons change and our people are growing up. We have other traditions. This is a sweet one to be shared!
And although I had my fears that something so special might be lost on children who aren't quite nine years old, they were quickly put to rest by the incessant chatter each afternoon about their adventure, the beaming smiles (on both boys and men) and the sweet words of P's prayer tonight:
"Dear God, thank you for the best day EVER. Amen."
Friday, April 12, 2013
Steal My Show
When my children were babies I delighted in dressing them.There were monograms, appliques and bows. They always matched. Even if someone had a blowout or otherwise soiled their outfit, I would change the whole crew so they coordinated. (Crazy, but true.) It was harmless fun that made me feel like we were together and things were 'under control' even if they were not. (Order is a coping skill of mine.)
Somewhere around five years old (during my Montessori-induced independent children revolution) I let it go. It happened gradually enough that I didn't even realize the shift until an acquaintance commented: "You used to dress your kids so cute."
Ouch. But that was just it...I used to dress them and now they were proudly dressing themselves. Of course there are basic rules of propriety, and special occasions are still under my authority, but otherwise I surrendered the closet wars as a battle not worth fighting. Honestly, it was a relief.
There are many things I have been forced to let go of as my children grow. For the most part I have found the shedding to be a healthy way to leave room for new skills to grow--even if it is occasionally hard on my heart.
And then there are mornings like today where circumstances reveal yucky points of pride in my heart and I realize the letting go is not just about growth in my children--it is about growth that is needed in ME.
There's a school musical performance today and the costume requirements were loose: a musical performer from your parents' iPod. I had great ideas using items from our dress up closet. Wigs, props, subtle humor...my friends would have been so entertained. (Yes, I heard myself say that and cringed.)
My children, however, had other ideas. I didn't think they were nearly as cute and funny as mine. But after trying to change their minds over the last 24 hours, I let it go. They left this morning looking like ragamuffins--dressed as two of the Village People and an obscure acapella singer from the 2010 tv show The Singoff--but they were grinning ear to ear.
Graceful God knocked on my heart with a reminder: This is THEIR show, not yours, accompanied by the realization that this is just the beginning of the independence and unique wiring (that I prayed God would allow me to steward well in them) colliding with my foolish pride.
A couple of weeks ago I heard a song by Toby Mac called Steal My Show and I thought: This is it.
I find myself wanting to be the script writer, the producer, the casting director, the set designer and yes, even the costume designer...and God says: This is not your show. Trust Me.
So I confess. I exhale. I hum.
If you wanna steal my show, go on and take it away Need you to steal my show, can't wait to watch you go So I'll step out the way, I'll give you center stage My Life, my friends, my heart, It's all yours, God Take it away, my dreams my fears, my family, my career, It's all yours, God Take it away... It's you I wanna live for. [ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/steal-my-show-lyrics-toby-mac.html ]
Somewhere around five years old (during my Montessori-induced independent children revolution) I let it go. It happened gradually enough that I didn't even realize the shift until an acquaintance commented: "You used to dress your kids so cute."
Ouch. But that was just it...I used to dress them and now they were proudly dressing themselves. Of course there are basic rules of propriety, and special occasions are still under my authority, but otherwise I surrendered the closet wars as a battle not worth fighting. Honestly, it was a relief.
There are many things I have been forced to let go of as my children grow. For the most part I have found the shedding to be a healthy way to leave room for new skills to grow--even if it is occasionally hard on my heart.
And then there are mornings like today where circumstances reveal yucky points of pride in my heart and I realize the letting go is not just about growth in my children--it is about growth that is needed in ME.
There's a school musical performance today and the costume requirements were loose: a musical performer from your parents' iPod. I had great ideas using items from our dress up closet. Wigs, props, subtle humor...my friends would have been so entertained. (Yes, I heard myself say that and cringed.)
My children, however, had other ideas. I didn't think they were nearly as cute and funny as mine. But after trying to change their minds over the last 24 hours, I let it go. They left this morning looking like ragamuffins--dressed as two of the Village People and an obscure acapella singer from the 2010 tv show The Singoff--but they were grinning ear to ear.
Graceful God knocked on my heart with a reminder: This is THEIR show, not yours, accompanied by the realization that this is just the beginning of the independence and unique wiring (that I prayed God would allow me to steward well in them) colliding with my foolish pride.
A couple of weeks ago I heard a song by Toby Mac called Steal My Show and I thought: This is it.
I find myself wanting to be the script writer, the producer, the casting director, the set designer and yes, even the costume designer...and God says: This is not your show. Trust Me.
So I confess. I exhale. I hum.
Tuesday, April 09, 2013
Perspective on Faults
I was recently with a group of children my trio's age. As we talked, one of the more vocal boys offered abruptly, "You know the problem with (insert one of my kids' names here) is (insert a true character struggle here)."
Wow.
I was taken aback--but such is the brutal honesty of children. Thankfully, the child being discussed was nowhere within earshot.
I struggled for a moment with the appropriate response. While unsolicited and cringe-inducing, the observation was on target. I am quite aware of the particular struggle he mentioned--and so is my child. We've discussed it, cried about it and prayed about it for years (literally). As a result, I also happen to appreciate that the issue is SO MUCH better than it once was.
As a loving parent, this kid's comment reminded me not of my own child's faults as much as his progress. So, that's how I chose to respond. I told my little friend that it was indeed a hard thing for my son, but that he was really working on it. I added that I bet if I talked to his mother she could tell me things that challenged him too. :-)
While it is easy to just write off this young tattletale as immature and move on, yesterday morning it occurred to me that God likely feels the same protective and loving way about His children that the encounter made me feel about mine.
When I hurt/offend/annoy someone and they go to my Father to complain/pray about me, it warms my heart to think of the Lord who delights in me (Zephaniah 3:17) shaking His head with a loving affirmation of their observation....Yes, I know. That's really hard for Jennifer. She & I have been working on that for a while. She's not there yet, but she has come a long way.
Maybe it's far fetched to imagine this type of response from the God of the Universe...but indulge me for a minute. Isn't that a picture of grace?
I, too, can be a tattle tale. Lord, one of your children is NOT behaving. You know what her problem is... (Of course, I have learned how to dress this up in pretty Christianese...but this is the heart of my complaint sometimes.)
What if in the times I find myself praying to God about the character struggles of another, I spoke with a recognition of His tender love for them? It doesn't feel natural, but it is the essence of the Golden Rule--treating others the way I want them to treat me.
Oh, how I imagine it might soften my heart towards the one who has offended me! (And I know I would certainly appreciate it if those I have hurt gracefully sought to believe the best of my intentions as well.)
Wow.
I was taken aback--but such is the brutal honesty of children. Thankfully, the child being discussed was nowhere within earshot.
I struggled for a moment with the appropriate response. While unsolicited and cringe-inducing, the observation was on target. I am quite aware of the particular struggle he mentioned--and so is my child. We've discussed it, cried about it and prayed about it for years (literally). As a result, I also happen to appreciate that the issue is SO MUCH better than it once was.
As a loving parent, this kid's comment reminded me not of my own child's faults as much as his progress. So, that's how I chose to respond. I told my little friend that it was indeed a hard thing for my son, but that he was really working on it. I added that I bet if I talked to his mother she could tell me things that challenged him too. :-)
While it is easy to just write off this young tattletale as immature and move on, yesterday morning it occurred to me that God likely feels the same protective and loving way about His children that the encounter made me feel about mine.
When I hurt/offend/annoy someone and they go to my Father to complain/pray about me, it warms my heart to think of the Lord who delights in me (Zephaniah 3:17) shaking His head with a loving affirmation of their observation....Yes, I know. That's really hard for Jennifer. She & I have been working on that for a while. She's not there yet, but she has come a long way.
Maybe it's far fetched to imagine this type of response from the God of the Universe...but indulge me for a minute. Isn't that a picture of grace?
I, too, can be a tattle tale. Lord, one of your children is NOT behaving. You know what her problem is... (Of course, I have learned how to dress this up in pretty Christianese...but this is the heart of my complaint sometimes.)
What if in the times I find myself praying to God about the character struggles of another, I spoke with a recognition of His tender love for them? It doesn't feel natural, but it is the essence of the Golden Rule--treating others the way I want them to treat me.
Oh, how I imagine it might soften my heart towards the one who has offended me! (And I know I would certainly appreciate it if those I have hurt gracefully sought to believe the best of my intentions as well.)
Monday, April 08, 2013
Working It Out
I do not like working out.
I am not particularly strong.
I have never been described as athletic or coordinated.
When things hurt I don't feel like a she-warrior by carrying on, I feel like it is my body saying I should quit.
Despite these truths, I returned to the gym last week after a several month hiatus. I signed up for Crossfit primarily because the trainer was a woman I trust. I was able to confess all of my icky feelings and insecurities about working out to her and with a graceful smile she agreed to help me.
It has not been easy. I am weak and out of shape. My daily nutrition is not what it should be and the workouts are challenging. In order to not quit, I have had to search for motivation--and frankly, health or appearance alone just wouldn't work for me.
As my face was on a smelly black mat today and my body was begging me to just let it rest rather than do another push up, I realized that this in a mental & spiritual battle. I want to quit. I want to return to my comfy, contemplative and sedentary lifestyle.
But I also want to be able to tell my children they can do hard things without cringing inside at my own hypocrisy. Why do I keep challenging them to tenacity while not giving much attention to my own struggles with it?
I want to raise children who value their health and to treat their bodies with respect. But more importantly, I don't want to train up children who quit when something gets hard.
So I am going three mornings a week. And when I want to quit, I pray--and then I visualize.
When I just don't want to run one more lap, I think about my husband's faithfulness to bear an incredible workload.
When I am doing the 45th air squat and can feel my face grimacing and my legs beginning to shake I will think about R's tears over spelling words.
When I struggle to get my body to do another 5 burpees, I will think of P's frustration with catching up physically to those whose bodies run faster and more agilely than his.
When my trainer says softly, "two more minutes you can do anything for two more minutes," I will think of the determination in my K's face as she is swimming laps and the wall doesn't seem to be getting any closer.
I am finding that even though I am there for my physical muscles, there is much work being done in my heart and mind too. Towards the end of my workout today when I was fighting back complaints and exhausted tears my trainer simply said, "I have been there. I know how this feels. Keep going."
Rather than simply tossing out encouraging words from the sidelines, she was able to relate. It was incredibly encouraging! What a lesson in the way to be real encouragement to others--not by hollow words that downplay where they are, but by remembering, relating and encouraging from that place.
I can't wait to be able to kneel next to a tearful child and look him/her in the eyes with these authentic words, "I know. I've been there. Keep going."
And while I hope my muscles are getting stronger and my posture improves, I know that my character is absolutely being worked! Honestly, it doesn't make me enjoy working out even one iota more, but it does give me a reason to push on.
I am not particularly strong.
I have never been described as athletic or coordinated.
When things hurt I don't feel like a she-warrior by carrying on, I feel like it is my body saying I should quit.
Despite these truths, I returned to the gym last week after a several month hiatus. I signed up for Crossfit primarily because the trainer was a woman I trust. I was able to confess all of my icky feelings and insecurities about working out to her and with a graceful smile she agreed to help me.
It has not been easy. I am weak and out of shape. My daily nutrition is not what it should be and the workouts are challenging. In order to not quit, I have had to search for motivation--and frankly, health or appearance alone just wouldn't work for me.
As my face was on a smelly black mat today and my body was begging me to just let it rest rather than do another push up, I realized that this in a mental & spiritual battle. I want to quit. I want to return to my comfy, contemplative and sedentary lifestyle.
But I also want to be able to tell my children they can do hard things without cringing inside at my own hypocrisy. Why do I keep challenging them to tenacity while not giving much attention to my own struggles with it?
I want to raise children who value their health and to treat their bodies with respect. But more importantly, I don't want to train up children who quit when something gets hard.
So I am going three mornings a week. And when I want to quit, I pray--and then I visualize.
When I just don't want to run one more lap, I think about my husband's faithfulness to bear an incredible workload.
When I am doing the 45th air squat and can feel my face grimacing and my legs beginning to shake I will think about R's tears over spelling words.
When I struggle to get my body to do another 5 burpees, I will think of P's frustration with catching up physically to those whose bodies run faster and more agilely than his.
When my trainer says softly, "two more minutes you can do anything for two more minutes," I will think of the determination in my K's face as she is swimming laps and the wall doesn't seem to be getting any closer.
I am finding that even though I am there for my physical muscles, there is much work being done in my heart and mind too. Towards the end of my workout today when I was fighting back complaints and exhausted tears my trainer simply said, "I have been there. I know how this feels. Keep going."
Rather than simply tossing out encouraging words from the sidelines, she was able to relate. It was incredibly encouraging! What a lesson in the way to be real encouragement to others--not by hollow words that downplay where they are, but by remembering, relating and encouraging from that place.
I can't wait to be able to kneel next to a tearful child and look him/her in the eyes with these authentic words, "I know. I've been there. Keep going."
And while I hope my muscles are getting stronger and my posture improves, I know that my character is absolutely being worked! Honestly, it doesn't make me enjoy working out even one iota more, but it does give me a reason to push on.
Saturday, April 06, 2013
Puppy Love
I seem to have an abundance of backyard dog photos lately, but this had to be captured and recorded for posterity.
I heard gleeful giggles in the backyard and spotted this scene...
There are so many moments of parenthood (and puppy raising...grrr) that aren't so sweet--but times like these--my heart could burst with the goodness of it all.
Wednesday, April 03, 2013
Secure
I have mentioned Nicole Unice's book, She's Got Issues, over the last several months as my small group has been working through it. We completed the study last week, but met again yesterday simply to discuss our personal takeaway points from the book.
Reading is not passive for me. Pen in hand, I mark books UP when they speak to me. As I flipped back through the dozens of pages I had highlighted, underlined and asterisked I wondered how I would ever narrow it down. Amidst all my scribbles, a passage jumped off the page and gave my heart a jolt.
"...insecurity's greatest coup: keeping us overly focused on ourselves. And there's nothing that keeps us from living in freedom like the soul vacuum of self focus." Nicole Unice, She's Got Issues, page 84
Being a stay at home Mom and wife has honestly put me in more of a state of insecurity than any other stage of my life (except maybe sorority rush, but that was mercifully over in less than a week :) There are so many theories, self-proclaimed experts and checklists.
I spent a decade in the corporate world before coming home full time. I like to work hard and do well with what I have been entrusted. I like measurements of progress--because for better or worse at least there is a measure of what areas need work. But this spouse & Mama gig feels like a moving target. There is no succinct job description, no annual review or formal process of assessing how we are doing. And for crying out loud, we are dealing with people's hearts and lives. The pressure can feel crippling.
The mental list of 'shoulds' can leave me feeling defeated before the day has really begun.
I strive to keep a clean & organized home, but dirty dishes taunt me from the sink, people still cannot find key things like shoes and the two days a year when my laundry room is empty seem like cause for a parade.
I pay our bills and manage the family finances, but homework time leaves me frazzled and wanting to hide in my closet.
I adore my husband and children, but I am certain there are many times my tone conveys otherwise.
I research, read and pray, but, boy, do I ever blow the application sometimes.
My heart longs to spend my 'free' time in meaningful ways, but sometimes I also just want to sit and play Candy Crush Saga. (Sad, but true.)
And somewhere in the midst of oil changes, febrile children, laundry piles and volunteerism, I want to have unrushed time to sit and laugh with friends.
The saddest part is, I can't blame anyone else for making me feel this way. This is MY issue. Before I know it, I have been rendered ineffective by the tailspin of self evaluation, scorecarding myself and trolling the Mommy articles to figure out if I am measuring up. There is so much noise about the 'right' way to do things that I lose the voices that matter most.
I believe the Lord is sovereign, so it really boils down to only a couple of questions:
1. How has the Lord uniquely equipped ME for these individual children and the partner I am in a covenant with?
2. What does love (for the Lord and those He has placed in my life) require of me TODAY?
These entangling cords of self focus, doubt and insecurity are not from the Lord. He has a plan and my life is a part of it, but it is not about me. It is abut Him. I must simply tune in regularly for His guiding hand...not His plan for Sue or Sally or Staci...but the part he has for ME, in this place, in this season, with these people.
It was for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not
be subject again to a yoke of slavery (Galatians 5:1).
Lord, help me shed the yoke of insecurity that You have already died to free me from.
Take my focus off of me, me, me.
It's gross and exhausting.
I profess to be Yours...give me the courage, strength and focus to act like it.
Lord, make me a woman who is secure in You.
"Secure women know their strengths and aren't afraid to own them.
They also know their weaknesses and aren't scared by them.
Secure women can easily admit when they are wrong, but they don't beat themselves up about it.
Secure women take risks.
Secure women fail but try again.
Secure women can be vulnerable with their friends.
Secure women don't have to know all the answers.
Secure women can say no.
Secure women believe that love multiplies and that they can give lavish love and affection away because there will always be an abundance for them...
Secure women are beautiful, powerful women because of their deep ability to love--not because they do it perfectly but because they are loved by a perfect God, who will "equip you with all you need for doing His Will." (Hebrews 13:21)"
-Nicole Unice, She's Got Issues, page 107
I can only imagine the immediate difference in my daily life if it were the secure woman described above mothering, ministering, and partnering with my husband. And talk about a faith example for my children...this is the woman I want my sons to marry and my daughter to mature to be.
And so tonight, embracing His grace, I ask God to quiet the voices so I can hear His. I put today to bed and look forward with hope to a more secure tomorrow.
Reading is not passive for me. Pen in hand, I mark books UP when they speak to me. As I flipped back through the dozens of pages I had highlighted, underlined and asterisked I wondered how I would ever narrow it down. Amidst all my scribbles, a passage jumped off the page and gave my heart a jolt.
"...insecurity's greatest coup: keeping us overly focused on ourselves. And there's nothing that keeps us from living in freedom like the soul vacuum of self focus." Nicole Unice, She's Got Issues, page 84
Being a stay at home Mom and wife has honestly put me in more of a state of insecurity than any other stage of my life (except maybe sorority rush, but that was mercifully over in less than a week :) There are so many theories, self-proclaimed experts and checklists.
I spent a decade in the corporate world before coming home full time. I like to work hard and do well with what I have been entrusted. I like measurements of progress--because for better or worse at least there is a measure of what areas need work. But this spouse & Mama gig feels like a moving target. There is no succinct job description, no annual review or formal process of assessing how we are doing. And for crying out loud, we are dealing with people's hearts and lives. The pressure can feel crippling.
The mental list of 'shoulds' can leave me feeling defeated before the day has really begun.
I strive to keep a clean & organized home, but dirty dishes taunt me from the sink, people still cannot find key things like shoes and the two days a year when my laundry room is empty seem like cause for a parade.
I pay our bills and manage the family finances, but homework time leaves me frazzled and wanting to hide in my closet.
I adore my husband and children, but I am certain there are many times my tone conveys otherwise.
I research, read and pray, but, boy, do I ever blow the application sometimes.
My heart longs to spend my 'free' time in meaningful ways, but sometimes I also just want to sit and play Candy Crush Saga. (Sad, but true.)
And somewhere in the midst of oil changes, febrile children, laundry piles and volunteerism, I want to have unrushed time to sit and laugh with friends.
The saddest part is, I can't blame anyone else for making me feel this way. This is MY issue. Before I know it, I have been rendered ineffective by the tailspin of self evaluation, scorecarding myself and trolling the Mommy articles to figure out if I am measuring up. There is so much noise about the 'right' way to do things that I lose the voices that matter most.
I believe the Lord is sovereign, so it really boils down to only a couple of questions:
1. How has the Lord uniquely equipped ME for these individual children and the partner I am in a covenant with?
2. What does love (for the Lord and those He has placed in my life) require of me TODAY?
These entangling cords of self focus, doubt and insecurity are not from the Lord. He has a plan and my life is a part of it, but it is not about me. It is abut Him. I must simply tune in regularly for His guiding hand...not His plan for Sue or Sally or Staci...but the part he has for ME, in this place, in this season, with these people.
It was for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not
be subject again to a yoke of slavery (Galatians 5:1).
Lord, help me shed the yoke of insecurity that You have already died to free me from.
Take my focus off of me, me, me.
It's gross and exhausting.
I profess to be Yours...give me the courage, strength and focus to act like it.
Lord, make me a woman who is secure in You.
"Secure women know their strengths and aren't afraid to own them.
They also know their weaknesses and aren't scared by them.
Secure women can easily admit when they are wrong, but they don't beat themselves up about it.
Secure women take risks.
Secure women fail but try again.
Secure women can be vulnerable with their friends.
Secure women don't have to know all the answers.
Secure women can say no.
Secure women believe that love multiplies and that they can give lavish love and affection away because there will always be an abundance for them...
Secure women are beautiful, powerful women because of their deep ability to love--not because they do it perfectly but because they are loved by a perfect God, who will "equip you with all you need for doing His Will." (Hebrews 13:21)"
-Nicole Unice, She's Got Issues, page 107
I can only imagine the immediate difference in my daily life if it were the secure woman described above mothering, ministering, and partnering with my husband. And talk about a faith example for my children...this is the woman I want my sons to marry and my daughter to mature to be.
And so tonight, embracing His grace, I ask God to quiet the voices so I can hear His. I put today to bed and look forward with hope to a more secure tomorrow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)