His

It took a while to sink in; a tragedy of proportions too great to wrap ones mind around.  Now, after so long of seeing their faces on the computer screen, I have to shut it and walk away.  I like all of you, am so filled with nausea and grief, and incomprehension.  Why? We all keep asking; as if knowing the answer will assuage our sorrow, or prevent it from happening again., But the answer to why will  not make it go away: it is our sin, the brokenness of our world; a world that wants to pick and choose when God should be present and relevant in our lives.  In times like these we are overwhelmed by it's brokenness. We are discouraged.  The consuming destruction of sin seems inescapable.

One of my facebook friends said events like this make her consider homeschooling.  I hear what she is saying.  How can we send our children into this world? The reality is, they are not safe anywhere.  There are shootings in shopping malls and theaters, abductions in quiet neighborhoods.  We can not protect our children.

How, then, do we go on?  There is only one way.  We must send them into this world knowing, they are His. They are gifts, for us to shepherd for a time, and should they be taken from us, they will go only to the comforting arms of Jesus, who loves them even more than we do.  We send them with the purpose that they should be light in a dark world. The only way to survive in such times is to overwhelm the darkness.  We cannot do this alone, but as the body of Christ, we can.   We are called to live, and teach our children to live in such a way, that our kindness and love shines into the world, and causes those who despair to look to the one place that hope remains;, He is mighty; he can use even darkness to turn others to Him, He uses our light  to help them find their way.

We cannot prevent evil.  We can not eliminate danger. We can not solve the problem by looking for someone to blame, but what we must do, is unite to show with our love, that Jesus is still real and present.  We must go forth boldly, "as sheep among wolves" to be"shrewd as snakes, and harmless as doves." For He knew what we would encounter, and He promised to be our hope, the hope of our children, and of all those that love him.  We can not teach our children to walk in fear by being afraid ourselves. The ending has already been written; let us not forget, the enemy looses.  Love conquers.  Do not despair, we are His, let's try to live like it.

Cold shoulder and a side of snubbin

After being with my husband for 71/2 years, I still have a sister in law that likes to pretend that I don't exist. Christmas cards come addressed to my husband only, I am a ghost at family gatherings, gifts go unacknowledged or only my husband gets thanks, as though he sent her flowers on her birthday.....If I make an attempt at conversation, I receive only the most curt, perfunctory response.  After all this time I have no idea what I have done to warrant this.  I have tried to chalk it up to her being shy, and give the benefit of the doubt, but honestly, even a seriously socially impaired person could write my name on a Christmas card.

Since these in laws live out of state, the only result so far has been tears of frustration on my part after holidays, but since they have recently decided to move to Billings as soon as they can find work here, I foresee more opportunity for....well, tears, frustration, and giving up, or....grace.

She has one son, and is now pregnant with their second child.  Her child and mine will be born within months of each other.  I really want to be able to be a blessing and a support system for them here, but I don't know how to begin after so much hurt.

I really need your prayers, that I will be able to hang in there, and love the heck out of my sister in law until she has no choice but to relent, and for her, that she will be able to let go of whatever is burdening her, and accept that I am her brothers wife, and will be staying for the duration, and no amount of ignoring will cause me to vanish, and that even if her feelings toward me never change, that the love of Jesus will show through me and sustain me for as long as it takes.

The Terribles

My beloved Baylie Rose is starting to go through the terrible twos.  She is a happy little angel until she doesn't get her way and then she is a tiny but terrible ball of fury, but Alas, she is not the subject of this post.  Morgan, who seemed to begin the terrible twos at 17 months, had a bit of a lull at 3, has taken it up a notch since Baylie was born.  Though she has struggled with listening at home, she has always managed to be a model of politeness and caring elsewhere; garnering mind boggling compliments to those of us with her at home, but recently, she has been having trouble listening at school, she bit her best friend, and today she threw ice in her school friends face, even after he was crying for her to stop.

After the teacher met me in the drop off line, on the way home from school, I cried.  I have never been more shocked and disappointed as a parent.  Now you all know that I don't have perfect control of my temper, that I raise my voice more than I should, and I confess, on a couple of occasions I have slapped my daughter across the face before I even thought about what I had done.  Terrible thing to confess in a blog, I know, but I have to own what is my hand in this.  Sick and ashamed, I had to ask my small daughter for forgiveness. It is no justification, I know, but breaking the pattern of parenting in anger that you grew up with is no easy task.  Though that was quite some time ago now, I imagine it is something she won't soon forget, and I never will, but on the whole, we have tried very hard to be consistent loving parents.  We have taught our children about Christ's love and forgiveness, even when that means sucking it up and admitting that we need it as well.  We have read all the right books, and try to do all the right things.  We have had many conversations about kindness and bullying.  Yet as I write this, I can not understand why, from the beginning this child has been a challenge to me unequal to any other challenge in my life, and why she would behave this way when she knows right and wrong.  I do know, a good deal of it comes down to attention.  I feel like even though I am a stay at home mom, I will never have enough to give; she always needs more, and yet every time we take her aside to do something special, she acts out immediately afterword in spectacular fashion.  Also, when we calmly explain the consequence she has earned, she often respond punitively, :Well then I'm gonna______"

This is a post written in desperation! Can those slaps across the face when mommy lost control be enough to cause all this??? It seems like nothing we do has any effect, that  getting her way is the only ruling force in her mind.  She doesn't seem to grasp the cause and effect of having earned the consequences, though we talk to her about it, she always says that it is us not being nice.
Am I a terrible mother???  How can I get through to her before it is too late? I will never be perfect enough to never raise my voice.  Am I doomed to ruin my children?  If so, why is God giving us another one? Help!!!

Control Freak

Okay, I'm not gonna lie; within the last few days I feel like I have sloughed off the cliff from" settling for a little less" to "if I didn't absolutely have to get out of bed, I wouldn't".  I am flaking apart piece by piece.  I think my organizational skills must have stayed in bed, and I definitely left my sanity at the doctors office. When my kind nurse practitioner saw me back again, she said "I don't think micronor is the right birth control for you." I said, a bit manically, "JoAnn, I think a vasectomy is the right birth control for me!", and then when they told me I was not as far along as I hoped, and I was faced with another month of exhaustion and all day nausea, I admit, I had a rough time swimming to the surface.

Surprise though this pregnancy was, I quickly developed a vision of how things would go: me and my bump running 3 miles a day, eating our fruits and vegis, wearing cute maternity clothes that I'll never (Please God) have to wear again, and finishing up in our new house, and finally being settled. 
This pregnancy has instead, served to remind me on every front, how little control I really have, and what a control freak I really am.  I want to tell God, " I JUST WANT THINGS TO RUN ON SCHEDULE!!"or "ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY????" Learning to do things on His timetable is not easy for me. This is a lesson that has been revisited in many guises many times.

Christianity is a tough gig for me, control freak that I am.  I don't just want to sit back and accept that there is nothing I can do, Jesus did it all.  He is the only one who could.  There is no meditation plan to self actualization, no list of accomplishments to check off, indicating that I have earned my place, no rigorous discipline to whip me into worthiness, just acceptance.  Just like this pregnancy.  It's a done deal, one that ends in love, but must begin with the hardest thing of all, acceptance.

Settling for Less

I am a list girl.  I measure my worth by accomplishment, but with all of my recent pregnancy and other ailments, I have had to let my list go, and instead go with the motto, "Do what's most important." If I can do more after that, then I move on to the next most important thing.  This method is unnatural to me; it is against the fiber of who I am, but in this season, it's the best I can do.

You know the pinterest meme, " Some moms make homemade soaps, and reindeer treats, while I'm lucky I got a shower and my kids survived the day."? It seems I have both of these mom's inside of me in a constant stage of warfare.  They are like the good and bad proverbial angels atop my shoulder's....but which one is really good? Pinterest, list making mama definitely gets more done, but worn out tired mama snuggles my kids and reads them stories, and doesn't worry so much about rushing off to the next thing.  A while ago my oldest daughter brought me a sheet of paper that she had written on.  She couldn't make words at the time, so they were just random letters, but everything on the page had lines through it.  I'm sure you have guessed that when I asked her about it, she said it was her list, just like mama.  Is that what I want to create? I'm not sure.  I miss a lot of beautiful moments snapping at my kids because of my drive to reach the bottom of that list; even if I include the fun stuff, like crafts or baking cookies, in my mind it's just another thing that has to get done.  And for what anyway? It's not like a mama's work ever gets DONE, like I'm ever going to just sit back and say, I did everything on my list, my work here is complete.

I'm sure that as soon as I'm able, I'll go back to using my list, but I hope I take away a lesson from this time, that I need to settle for a bit less on that list, so that I can give more to my kids within the stuff that has to get done, so that I don't become a model of something ugly because someone didn't buckle their car seat with military efficiency, or be unable to enjoy the moments we have together because I want to cross off  "make banana bread".  It's easier said than done, but my prayer for all of us as Christmas comes, and beyond, is that we don't loose our kids or our minds in the bustle of our to-do lists.  After all, dirty floors, dishes, and laundry will be there another day, but those tiny moments of sublime grace are so easy to miss.

Hillary

Basically all my childhood, I had the same best friend. She wasn't fickle and catty like the other girls, and we had very few falling outs.  We grew up together, through the good and the terrible, so between being there for most of one anothers formative experiences, and discussing everything to death, we grew to where all we had to do was look at each other to know what the other was thinking.  We didn't need anyone else, and we never had to worry about what people thought of us; we had each other.  As girls often do, we said we would be friends forever, or at least if we weren't, we vowed never to drift apart.  If something should be big enough to separate us, it would end in a knock down drag out fight worthy of our friendship.

She was the maid of honor at my first wedding.  She made a beautiful speech and gave us meaningful gifts. I moved to Washington and never saw her again.  I tried a few times to reach out, but she didn't seem interested.  The last of these times was during the desperate darkness of my divorce.  We drifted apart.  Who can say why?  In the early years, I wanted to demand an explanation; the fight I was due.  If I had my guess, I'd say that maybe for some people there comes a point where there's too much between two people: when you know each other so well, and have journeyed together through so much, that the other person becomes like a mirror, of your wounds, your hidden weaknesses, all the pain and things you would rather put behind you....maybe you trade someone who understands you for a piece of freedom from your past.

Our lives are so different.  She is accomplished, unmarried, and atheist, and I live a life we made fun of in high school.  What kind of relationship could we have now anyway?  Neither of us are the type for BS or small talk, so nothing is better for both of us than something superficial.

My friend recently got in a car accident.  She is OK, but it really made me evaluate where we are, and I realized this: Through the years my love for her has become more Christ-like than any other in my life.  Over time, all the need drained out of me.  I don't need to be friends, to hang out.  I don't need for her to like me or validate me in any way, but I have never stopped wanting the best for her, never stopped praying for her (except during the times when I didn't pray at all), I would never turn my back on her in need, no matter time of day or season of life.  I realized that when you love someone it doesn't matter if you have different lives, or believe different things, or even ever speak again.  She is as much a part of me as that bicycle chained to the tree as it grew.

I have longed for someone who understands me the way she did, but that empty place is more than fair trade for the time we had, and  God gave me a different type of best friend in my husband; one who loves me so deeply that understanding isn't required.

Sometimes God forces us grow in ways that it takes a lot of distance to see the lesson, and sometimes I guess you have to loose the present, to find the gift.

Divert!

Once upon a time, long ago, before I knew Jesus, or motherhood, I defined myself by what I knew I would accomplish. With a singular focus I devoted myself to becoming a singer... voice lessons, college major, I knew I would succeed, not because of superior talent, but by sheer force of unshakable will.

When I met my husband, I fell in love, suddenly and deeply, like stumbling into a well.  The opposing desires of my heart fought violently.  My unhealthy lifestyle of bars and ambition choked our love, and in the end, I knew only one could survive.  I layed aside my voice, until I could learn to use it for something besides my own glory. My defining feature absent, I floundered until He saved me and let me be defined anew. Most who did not know me then have never heard me sing.

I believe if I had followed that path I would have been successful in worldly terms, but consumed by self, devoid of God.  Instead, He gave me love; it stretched me, He gave me children, those strippers of selfishness.  He radically changed my path, so that I could grow.  I did not see God's hand as He gave me what I needed but did not want, but it was there as surely as gravity changes the tide.

And so now, as He diverts our path again, with a pregnancy that was not in The Plan (Oh how I could almost taste those actual dates with my husband...). I must trust to His purpose.  I don't have what it takes to mother another child.  He will give it to me.  I don't see where He wants to go with my life.  I will let Him lead me there anyway.  He is teaching me, my value is not in accomplishment, my strength is not in MY will.  It is a difficult lesson; two children have not been enough to teach it; my selfishness runs so deep.  He is humbling me, blessing me, teaching me, all with a little change of course.

Father

Hold my hand and help me as we raise these littles,
Help me to learn to serve, so they may see you,
Cover my tired with grace,
Help us to forgive one another as we fall short,
Help us to follow the path you set before us,
though we see not beyond this step,
and if the way should look dark,
Help us close our eyes to the world,
and open our hearts to your light.

Amen

Free Will, Predermination, and Prayer, Oh My!

I am just going to warn you from the start, that this is going to be an extremely odd post. So here goes, recently, our church has been doing a sermon series on the end times.  My view on this subject has always been that we aren't supposed to know the day or the hour, so why spend time dwelling on this issue.  Our pastor pointed out, however, that it is in the bible, and therefore it is something that God wants us to know and we can't selectively ignore parts of God's word (duh, right).  So. anyway, during this series he gives a sermon on the Antichrist, and I have to tell you, I haven't devoted much mental space to this previously, and I found that the concept of this person disturbs me on multiple levels.  While the Antichrist clearly ends up totally wicked, and capable of using all possible means to commit unfathomable atrocities, he clearly starts out just like everyone else: someones baby.  How does a person become so broken that they wholly abandon good for evil; at what point does this person realize they are the Antichrist? Many of the people who eventually go to Hell, don't believe in Hell, but the Antichrist, as he eventually receives power directly from the devil, clearly knows that he is trading eternal punishment for extremely short term gain. Also, even the most misled of us are generally looking for good, whether in themselves, another religion, or what have you. I just can't get my brain around this choice to consciously and blatantly reject all redemption or goodness , or this evolution from someones little boy, to the epitome of evil; that idea just makes me so sad. Which brings me to my greater dilemma....you know how the bible says to pray for our enemies, those who persecute us?  We have no greater enemy than this, and yet, the bible prophesies that these events will come to pass, and they must, for the fulfillment of God's plan.  He can't just rewrite the bible because of my little prayer, so is there any point in praying for the Antichrist?(or his mama) How do free will, predetermination, and the power of prayer interact ?????

The Naked Truth

Basically all of Lance's friends who are married, married their high school sweet hearts.  Lance dated a girl for three years that everyone assumed he would marry, and if she hadn't broken up with him in college, he probably would have.  I have been told in undertones by multiple people, that they didn't think he could ever love anyone again.  Goody, right?....She later married and divorced, and is now single again, so, being a naturally curious female, I freeped her on facebook (come on, you know you do it too), and she looked, well, sort of like me, before I had kids, which brings me to the naked truth: I am terrified that I am going to be going about one of my bedraggled days, bedecked in unbecoming crocks, kids in tow, probably yelling, unflattering post baby (OK toddler) belly in its full splendor, and I am going to run into her. If I do not run into her in a circumstance such as this, I shall certainly do so someday at one of the high school friend crew events, you know, weddings, funerals, and the like, and in fact, one such event is looming near. Next May, one of the last holdouts to single hood is tying the knot; plenty of time to make sure I am in excellent shape, if in fact, my body was not laughing in the face of all my attempts to banish the excess weight.  As I wean Baylie, I live in fear that I shall further balloon to a hitherto unexperienced level of frump, which by the way, is not all over, but mainly having a party in my abdomen, causing getting dressed to be an athletic endeavour in itself.

As the high school crew and spouses have never liked me, this event feels like diving with sharks, waiting for the smell of blood, er, fat.  In fact, true or not, it seems as though these particular folks have been waiting for me to get fat for a very long time. Though normally pretty self assured, I tell you, I'd rather swim with sharks, than be seen by said skinny single ex and friends in my current condition. The naked ugly truth, is that we all struggle on some level with body image, and she brings out the- I can see how people would resort to vomit-in me. I am running my ass off (oh wait, it's still there!), for some of the wrong reasons, and though I have healthy reasons too, I just can't seem to shake this one. While my husband makes me feel gorgeous, and I know that I should be covered by God's grace at any weight, I am afraid that all my weaknesses will be visible to all unless I push myself all the time, and that I have to work harder and produce more to be worthy, of love, of my husband, the respect of my friends, etcetera.  It comes down to a lot more than just my body.  And as much as I recognize the problem, and yes, realize that I am not actually an unhealthy weight, and would like to tell you that all body image/self worth issues will surely be resolved by the time this event comes to pass, the real naked truth is, that I will likely feign the plague if I am not the perfect toned size 2-4 I was the last time many of these people saw me at my own wedding. Sigh.

For Non-Christians!

My usual blog readers, if I am lucky enough to have them, are a group of other Christian mamas who are very easy to write to, because they are much like me, but today, I'm gonna venture onto the proverbial limb and write something that has been on my heart, for people who don't know Jesus.  I hope you will hear me out.

There are a few misconceptions about Christianity that seem to be rampant that just need to be addressed:

1. God, and therefore Christians, hate: gay people, non Christians, and/or anyone who is different or has different beliefs than we do.

Okay folks, I know, there is always that jack wad in the crowd, hating everybody in the name of God, making us all look bad, and he always seems to be the loudest rooster in the coop, but let's be clear here; God hates sin, NOT people.  The bible clearly commands us to love one another, no exclusions.  Any failings on our behalf to do this, rest squarely on our own sinful natures, not on Christianity, and most certainly not on Christ.  Jesus hung out with rabble, and He invites EVERYBODY who believes in Him to heaven.  Does this mean that he condones all of our choices? No.  Does it mean that Christians have to embrace behaviors that contradict our biblical values? No.  What it does mean is that we need to love individuals regardless of their lifestyle choices, and that anybody who hates people needs to examine themselves, and reread their bible, because that is just flat not what Jesus taught.

2.  We think we're better than you.

Really, the reason why we are Christians is because we know we're not better than you.  We are Christians because we know we need HELP! It's the same deal on this one; being judgmental is human nature, we've all been there, but when we get on our high horse, it's not our religion's fault. The bible absolutely doesn't condone it; it fact, it says the opposite numerous times. So when one  individual that says he or she is a Christian is judgmental, don't put that on all of us.  You don't like it when people make generalizations about you, we don't like that either.

3. Since we think we're better than you, we want to convert you, so we can improve you, by making you like us.  (Insert diabolical laugh here)

So, here is the deal with evangelism: Big shocker...we do want to convert you....but, cut us some slack:  We LOVE Jesus, we remember what our lives were like before He was in them, and we believe that He saved us; not just in the abstract eternal sense, but in the quality of life we have now.  We believe we are broken, all of us, and He makes us whole.  We just want to share the Jesus koolaide, because we actually do like you, (well, most of you ;)), and we want you to have the good that we have.  Sort of like how if you see a good movie, you want your friends to see it too, so you tell them about it, multiplied by infinity.  I know we can be pushy and we go about it the wrong way a lot of the time, but if you don't want to be converted, just keep in mind: as annoying as we may be, our intentions are good.

Now, let's talk about you.  You want tolerance for everybody?  That means you have to tolerate people with whom you don't agree too.  Let's not have any of this, "Let's tolerate people with purple hair, people who are purple, people who sleep with purple people, ....but people who drink purple Jesus Koolaide, oh no! We mustn't tolerate them, they are FU-REAKS!"

We know you're decent people too, and you don't have to know Jesus to see there's no logic in that kind of equality.

And next time you encounter "that guy", please remember, he doesn't speak for all of us.

No More Littles

The other day while my sister-in-law was visiting, as I was out of the room checking on the dinner, Baylie took her first toddling steps into the void.  I, who am with her nearly every waking moment, turned my back for two minutes, and missed it.  She has not ventured out again since, so I am sure there will be many more tentative steps to come, so I couldn't figure out why it made me sad.

I guess it is because it seems like a metaphor for what my life is like.  I am always here, and yet  often feel as though I am missing it.  My memories of Morgan's babyhood are hazy, and, though it seems in the moment that Baylie is frozen in time, her current stage of development so all consuming that it blocks out all else, she changes daily, before my eyes.  Mine is now a world devoid of toothless grins and stay puff marsh mellow rolls.  I am faced with it: there will be no more littles.  While all my friends continue to procreate away, I am done (unless of course God has other plans!).  This by choice; I am eager for the days of freedom from nap times, with museum outings, symphonies in the park, and easier camping trips where no one has to nurse at night; none the less, the thought is a little sad.

I get so wrapped up in orchestrating the minutia that is our day to day life, that the magic of what a friend of mine calls "whimsy" often passes me by; not because of absence, but because in the whirlwind of motherhood, I can not hold on to the perspective that childhood is as fleeting as a poppy's bloom, and that in it's wake, I will look back, and my children will have been fearfully and wonderfully made, right in front of me, and I will have missed it.

Loaves and Fish again

I was standing in the grocery store line when I saw it; the little donation jar for a baby who needs heart surgery.  "I can't give", I thought.  "I only brought the grocery money cash,  and the list already extends the budget to the max, but what if that were my baby? What if nobody gave anything, because they couldn't give enough?" God's provision is enough; it will work." I told myself, and I put some money in the jar.  Not much, but something, and I continued on to the other places in my route.

Not to brag, but I am a pro shopper.  I put a cost estimate before every item on the list, so that I know where I am in the budget, and I am usually very close, so I cannot tell you how, at the end of the list, I had money leftover for some things that should have been on the list, but I thought would have to wait. Nor can I tell you how after that there was still money leftover to go back into the grocery envelope.  I can tell you, that it seemed like God was saying to me, "Don't be concerned about what to eat and drink.  Don't worry about such things.  These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers all over the world, but your Father already knows your needs.  Seek the Kingdom above all else, and He will give you everything you need.", and I pray that this small example of His great provision will embolden me to greater obedience and trust.

Spots

I just had to share with you this little testimony of the power of the Holy Spirit.

Last night after the kids were in bed, my husband and I sat down to watch a sermon on parenting that we had missed.  After it was over and we were discussing it, my husband told me that he needs to read his bible, so that we are making sure to use it in our daily life with our kids, so that word centered reasoning becomes our automatic response, and we aren't missing teachable moments.

It brought me back to what seems like not long ago when I felt the Holy Spirit working in my life, and I asked him if he thought it would impact our marriage negatively if I were to become a Christian, and he said, "I don't care what you believe, as long as it doesn't change you, or our life."

Hahahahaha!

That's right, I don't mind if you are a leopard, as long as you don't have any spots, or fur, and as long as you don't eat meat! But, he came to church with me a few times, and then more; he tried small group, and liked it.....and look who's a leopard now my friends, spots and all.

Worthless

So here it is. Underneath all of the busyness and preoccupation with home buying/selling, I have this nagging feeling that I am not doing anything for the Kingdom of God. Now I could blame my husband, because all of this is so new to him that he doesn't feel convicted in the way that I do, and because I have felt pulled to adopt and he isn't open to that, or my kids, because raising them is such a demanding task, but the reality is, it's just me.  I am having trouble leaving the comfort of my own routine to find a meaningful way to serve, and I wonder when the day comes, will my Father deny knowing me because I have failed to help all of the homeless, Christless, disenfranchised orphans and widows that are just outside my comfortable sphere of Christian friends?  Am I not a true disciple because I have a nice warm home, and have not sold anything to follow Him?  Even with what he has entrusted to me, my children, I fail on an epic scale constantly; loosing my patience, or not engaging them the way I should, and I fear that I can never produce good fruit, because I am a BAD TREE.  That thing which I do not wish to do, it is that which I keep doing.

Am I just a waste of the Savior's blood?

I know I mustn't let Satan paralyze me here in this headspace, but this blog is about being honest about where I am in the moment, and this is what's on my heart.  I feel alone among friends selfless enough to stretch themselves, while all I seem to manage is delivering a meal once in a while to one of my very prolific friends, and after all, even sinners can be kind to those who love them.

Alas, this post has no snappy ending where it all comes together.  It just ends with me, praying for a chance to be used, and you, praying that I will take it when it comes.

I will backhand you, with love

Discipline.  It's such a tricky issue to navigate as parents.  So many times, our Heavenly Father gives us mercy when we deserve punishment.  Other times, He lets the consequences of our mistakes hit us until we learn.  Sometimes it's the same lesson over and over again until it sinks in.  He knows the outcome, our hearts, our needs, but with our kids, so much is guesswork.  How do we know when to model Christ's mercy? How do we balance that with enough discipline to create responsible adults.  What form should that discipline take?

I'm sure this post is going to offend some people, and I'm okay with that, because it seems like not that long ago I was on the receiving end of many of the afore mentioned backhands, and without them, I fear I would have gone irreconcilably astray.  Let me also say that the person who should have administered said backhand, abdicated his role as parent, and opted instead for the role of fun guy, where he figured loosely in and out, until for healthy boundary reasons, I severed communication.  I learned from the stark contrast of these two men, the the parent who loves, is the parent who disciplines.

As you may have gathered from my previous posts, my oldest child is a bundle of will. As she tries to find her place in this world, and her role in our family, she tests boundaries, manipulates emotions, and has bouts of open defiance.  Lately, we have been reexamining our disciplinary arsenal to deal with back-talk, dirty looks, bad attitude, feigned ignorance, and intentional disobedience (it's like a mini teenager!).  Frankly, these things scare me, because I think that left unchecked they are the things that have led to a generation with a gigantic sense of entitlement and no personal accountability.  They scare me because often all of our efforts seem to have no impact.  She will say things like, "I'm never going to learn anything from this.", or (when I told her I was done messing around and it was time to get serious, " This isn't very serious!." They scare me because the line between too much and not enough is so thin, and peril lies on both sides.

So, one night after a trying day in the discipline arena, I prayed for fortitude and patience, and to be able to always discipline with love.  Afterword, we told her we love her, and explained that we would find a way to help her learn, and because we love her we will never give up.  We will keep providing consistent discipline again and again as long as it takes, and then I said to her, " Do you know you can backhand someone with love?"

It seems today there is so much fear of invalidating a child's feelings, that we negotiate with children as though they could reason like adults.  Our culture is afraid to parent, to expect obedience, to provide discipline, to teach our kids that our choices have consequences, before those consequences get too big and irreversible, and we are doing those kids a lifelong disservice. So, while I don't believe we should spank in anger, or for every circumstance, I do believe that when rewards don't work, and the " consequence jar" fails, when what my child needs is a good old fashioned smackdown, that's my job.  Sometimes the most loving thing you can give a child is a good swat.

Homemaker

 Once upon a time, in a far away place, when I was a young girl of 21, someone once told me, "It is the woman's job to set the tone of the home." She was a beautiful and classy lady in her 50's, and I thought her words profound indeed, though at the time I thought she meant that the woman's choices in furniture and decor created the nature of the space in which the family would live.  Due to my ever advancing age, I now realize there was much more to it than that.The woman herself, her moods, her being impacts her family in ways both obvious and subtle.  Her priorities and sensibilities will influence the way her children will think, how they will remember their childhood, will constantly affect the happiness of her husband.  She will literally, intentionally or inadvertently, "set the tone of the home."
Homemaker is, therefore, a verb; with my actions and choices I am, for good or ill, making my home.

When I was a teenager, I mocked these women, these homemakers.  I did not understand their motives, their subservience.  I did not know they had a secret that was beyond me: love. A love that makes you want to work as hard at home as your husband does away from it, not because women are less, but to strive to be equal: equally giving your all to those you love.

When I sang, that was my identity.  It was all about me, and when I gave it up, I didn't know who I was, but God gave me a new identity, and each day he tries to teach me to serve like Christ.
One day, I may have a job again, I may even sing again, but those things will not define me.  Learning to honor God with my life and my family is the process that will.

Many intelligent, wonderful women belittle their own worth and contribution.  They get bogged down in feeling like"just a housewife", but you and I, we are not just housewives, we are homemakers.  Let us make them with intention.

Heavenly Father, help us each day to make our homes with intelligence and humor, with grace and wisdom, with love.

The Bedraggled Mother

Something new has happened to me since the birth of my second child.  I, who got up at 5:30 am to curl my hair every day in high school (after chores), who lived with a family as an au pair and never emmerged from my room without being fully dressed with hair done and makeup on, who only wore my glasses in front of my husband three times before we lived together, have become the bedraggled mother.  Not that I looked like a poster for Ann Taylor Loft before, but I tried to do the best I could with what I had; but now, nothing.  I can walk out of the house in my glasses with wet hair, and crocs, oh hideous crocs, on and not even flinch. I allow people to stop by knowing full well I will be in sweats.  I have friends who have seen me without makeup.

I can, I suppose, chalk some of this up to the shedding of my adolescent insecurities, but mostly, friends, I just don't have the time or residual energy to care.  My children look well cared for, or at least not orphaned, and that's all can muster concern for on most days.  I tell myself this surely happens to some extent with all mothers: your priorities shift, you get busier, but the evidence in the preschool drop-off line is to the contrary.  Mothers with outfits that look as though they were coordinated on pintrest abound, sporting salon worthy, and certainly dry hair.  I am momentarily glad that these women do not know me.  I, the bedraggled mother, do not fit in among them.

But really, it's a trick of the light, isn't it, an illusion.  Catch me on the right day, when I have become sick of feeling like a a frump, and I have probably made someone else feel just this way.  Catch the parade of drop off moms on a Wednesday....and who knows,  maybe they haven't had a chance to shower, or their socks don't match, just maybe, heaven forbid, they go to Albertson's in their crocs!  Or, maybe they are in a season, which I hope lies ahead when the kids are a little older and some thought into one's personal appearance isn't so rare.

In the meanwhile, I am practicing being a little less vain. I'm trying to get to the things that matter, and bizzarely, it transpires that my husband thinks I'm hot without makeup, loathes ballet flats, doesn't care at all about fashion, and doesn't mind my glasses one bit.  One day, I'll wear only clothes that flatter and inspire me, and I will practice all those lovely updos I have pinned, but today I will keep perspective on my season of motherhood, I will praise God if I get a shower, and I will be thankful that when the people who love me look at me, bedraggled is not what they see.

Congratulations!

Recently, at our small group meeting, during a lull in parenting war stories, one of the couples announced that they are expecting their first child.  As one of the last members of the group to embark on the journey of parenting, they accepted our congratulations with something of a shell-shocked expression, possessed no doubt by the vauge suspicion that their lives a being hurtled into a realm unknown.

Congratulations! I always, (or at leaste after I became a parent) thought this was an odd and inadaquate sentiment for the scope of the situation.  But then, what else do you say? Congratulations! You now get to push something the size of a watermelon out of a hole the size of a pea; though lucky for you it will stretch to the size of a grapefruit first, for the reward of....sleeping, and doing just about everything else, in windows of 2 hours or less.  You will develop new skill sets, such as clipping fingernails on someone who is flailing wildly, and expand your knowledge base to become an expert on things including but not limited to: poop frequency and consistancy, cry type distinguishment, and soothing methods, and just when you have it figured out, it will change and you will once again know nothing. Yet, with all this will come a love that you can not now fathom, that will make all this rewarding and interesting, and will prevent you from wanting to throttle the little sleep disturber the way you would anyone else who woke you up every 2 hours.

Congratulations!  You will be trading in your spontaneity, any semblance of abdominal musculature you now have, and many other parts of yourself, for things like a profound glimpse into God's love for us, the grace to endure things you never thought possible, and the discipline of selflessness.

Congratulations! It's true, right? But it's sort of like saying, "God is good." It just  totally misses the epic scope of the reality.

After I had Morgan, I remember thinking, "Congratulations? Of all the wealth of things you could have said to give me an incling of what was comming, you, ALL OF YOU, chose congratulations? Thanks a load."

Isn't there something we could come up with that would say more? Brace yourself, perhaps? But no, that fails to express the sheer wonder of it all. In the end, congratulations is, I suppose, as good as anything, because there are no words big enough to embrace motherhood.  If you've already been there, you know what I mean, and if you haven't, you wouldn't understand even if I told you... but you will, soon.  Congratulations, welcome to the club.

Of Eggplant and Will

This weekend, an intense battle was waged at the Taylor household; a battle over...eggplant.

Our church has been talking about our health and how it relates to who God wants us to be, so I thought I would introduce more vegis into the family meals.  I found a recipe for eggplant parmigiana that looked good (though it involved batter and frying, and turned out not to be all that healthy), and we tried it...that is except for one of us, who refused to try it.

Now my husband, who is usually the wishy washy half, looked this one of us in the eye and said, " You need to try this eggplant. Take a couple bites, and you can get down, BUT if you do not try it, you will eat this square of eggplant until it is gone.  You will be served it, and only it for every meal until you have eaten it all.  Do you understand?" After a sweet nod and a repetition of what would be expected of her, she got down and went on her merry way, no doubt feeling she was getting away with something.

The next day, my loving husband went to work, and left me to play enforcer.  Each mealtime, she was served the eggplant, sat in her booster and reguarded it will disgust for a while, and then opted to get down.  By the end of the day, she had totalled 3 bites.

Now, my daughter has many traits that I don't relate to, but stubborness, I get.  I must admit that I was surprised, and secretly a little proud of  how long she held out.  She would complain that her tummy hurt, and I would explain that when we make decisions, we have to live with their results. 

We took quite a bit of critisism for our choice to let her suffer through: my mother-in-law called us nazis (lovingly I'm sure), a friend said I was using my position to bully my daughter and show her who was in power, and my mother suggested we back down, because, after all, she tried it, right?  I suspect that these well meaning people think that this is about ....eggplant, but no.  I do want my daughter to know that we mean what we say and we will follow through.  In this house, mama doesn't bluff, and if I did, a four year old would be wearing the proverbial pants, but mostly, like I said before, this is a corner of my daughter's heart that I understand.  She has been gifted an intellegence and will that, if harnessed, can help her do great things for the Kingdom of God, but if left unchecked will be used to manipulate things into her own way.  Understanding the weight of her personal choices, and that sometimes we have to do things we would rather not, is paramount for her. It is a battle I know we will be guiding her through in many guises for a long time to come. I'm glad that we have the opportunity to start with eggplant where the stakes are small.

 She came to my bed the next morinng in tears because she had

thrown up in her bed because of her empty stomach. It wasn't easy to hold firm then, but we sat her down to the breakfast table with a cup of 7up, a saltine, and her many times reheated sqare of eggplant, and she ate it all gone, and then, do you know what she said?

"That wasn't really all that bad."