Category: faith & serving

The Power of Naming our Gifts  11

IMG_1042Peter and I were at a conference a few years ago and the man speaking to us asked us to write the full names of our children on a sheet of paper.

So I wrote:

William Thomas
Kate Lillian
Annie Jane
Eliza Grace

You’d think that something so simple wouldn’t be that big a deal, but as I sat there, I stared at their names, a million memories flooding through my head connected to each one.  I thought about the conversations Peter and I had about what we would call them.  I remembered driving our extended family crazy by keeping those names a secret until the kids made their official appearance into the world.  We held their names close and treasured them.

Annie was born by c-section and we have this incredibly precious footage of her first hour, while I was still in the recovery room.  Peter was left alone with her and the camera is pointed on her little body stretching for the first time, her eyes blinking slowly, his hand resting on her stomach.  “We think we’re going to name you Annie Jane,” he says softly.

I will never forget those first few times we looked into each of our children’s eyes and said their names out loud.  Something about the tiny bundle of blanket with such a great big name seemed holy.

The very first job God gave Adam after He created the earth was to name the animals.  And when I think about that, I wonder why.  Surely, God deserved that job since He did the hard work of creating.  Instead, He turned to Adam and handed him the sweet privilege of calling out giraffe and spider and chicken (or something like that).

When William and Kate come home from school each day—  him at 2:25, her at 3:50, I try to be wrap up my task at hand and look into their eyes.  They both have so much to say, if I’m willing to listen, because there’s something important about naming our days.  Recounting what happened matters to them. Sometimes I forget that and I get frustrated as I try to finish up just one last thing (except there always seems to be another “one last thing”).  But when I let the day slip away without letting them rehash it with me, we both lose out.  They love to name the day.  When I have the discipline to listen, I learn about what’s important to them, what pressures they’re facing, what joys they have.

Is it possible that in our Naming— in the big ways and little ways— we are in fact calling out gifts?  If we take the time to name the good, we are practicing our thankfulness?

I’m smack in the middle of a book that has gotten under my skin in the very best way.  It’s called “Raising Grateful Kids in an Entitled World” and Kristen Welch has opened my eyes to all the ways we find ourselves entitled.  She writes about a man named Robert Emmons from the University of California, Berkeley who has worked as co-director of The Gratitude Project.

He says this: “In all its manifestations, a preoccupation with the self can cause us to forget our benefits and our benefactors or to feel that we are owed things from others and therefore have no reason to feel thankful. Counting blessings will be ineffective because grievances will always outnumber gifts.”

There’s something good about naming our gifts or counting our blessings or whatever you’d like to call it.  But it becomes something powerful when we name it out loud, when we talk about it as a family or write it down.  The words slip off our tongue and we are reminded of  God who trusts us, as He did with Adam, to Name. It causes the bad to fade and the good to brighten.

Our kids don’t learn this naturally and neither do we. Because our natural intent is to focus on what we don’t have, rather than what we do have.  There is always something to be thankful for, but it’s often hiding behind the much bigger thing that we don’t have or think we need.  Thankfulness hides behind “if onlys” and “as soon as”.  If we can train ourselves to dig for the gifts, to name the blessings, we begin to see we are owed nothing.  Instead, God has given us such gifts of grace that we don’t deserve.

Kristen says, “How often have I given thanks to God or to someone else and then turned around and complained or asked for more with the next breath?” The truth is, life is hard and when everything grinds to a halt, we have to work hard to give thanks.  And sometimes I talk myself into believing I’m owed more.  The grief of my life lies just under the surface and bubbles up much more easily than the gifts that take work to uncover.

However, the work of naming the gifts brings life to my soul and redeems my pain. It takes the sting out of my suffering.

I found that piece of paper with my kids’ names on it the other day.  I had it in my Bible and it fell out as I looked for something else.  Not only had I written the names of my children, but next to them were the words I first thought of when I looked at their names.

Joyful.  Wise.  Empathetic.  Thoughtful.  Funny.  Gracious.

We name our children when they are born, but we continue to name them as they grow.  And as we name them, we practice gratefulness and teach them to be thankful.

When Eliza prays, every statement begins with “Thank you.”
Thank you that you will take care of us.
     Thank you that we will have a good dinner.
     Thank you ….

How she calls out gifts and thanks God is not lost on me.  In the little, everyday after-school moments, as well as the big, life-changing ones, may we have the courage to name the gifts.  Not only for our benefit, but for the ones who are watching us so closely. And may you see that God has created you to Name.  He hands you the gift, much like He did to Adam.  Let the words slip off your tongue and you will see just how good He is.

 

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I’m excited to co-host a blog hop today inspired by Kristen Welch’s “Raising Grateful Kids in an Entitled World”.  Be sure to check out these great articles on gratefulness by others on our team:

Inspiring an Attitude of Gratitude – by Alison

Rasisng Grateful Kids – by amanda

Why You Can’t Buy Gratitude At The Dollar Store – by Andrea

Missing – Gratefulness in our home – by Ange 

Choosing Gratitude – by Angela

Gratefullness – by chaley

5 Steps to Gratitude-Fille Family – by Christa

Practicing Grateful Parenting – by Dana

Sing a Song – by Hannah

Cultivating gratitude in our family – by Jamie

Gratefulness In Our Home – by Jana

Gratefulness In Our Home – by Jana

Let It Begin With Me – by Jen

Choosing Gratefulness – by Jennifer

Raising Grateful Kids in an Entitled World – The Book – by jeri

Eradicating Entitlement – What are you rooted in? – by Jessica

Gratefulness in our home – by Kate

The Problem With Entitlement is that it begins with us – by Katelyn

7 Unusual Ways I Know How to Be Grateful – by Kathryn

Raising Grateful Kids – by Keri

How My Children Remind Me to Pray with Gratitude – by Kishona

Grateful – by Kristy

Entitlement: The Ugly Truth of a Beautiful Lie – by Leigha

The Most Important Thing You Can Do To Raise Grateful Kids – by Lindsey

Dear Son: How Do I Teach You To Be Grateful Without Guilt? – by Marie Osborne

Gratitude, A Practical Definition – by Mia

Cultivating Gratitude in Our Home – by Nancy

Learning Gratitude through Chronic Illness – by Rachel

Being Grateful – by Rebecca

I’ve Found Something I Can’t Live Without – by Sarah

The Power of Naming our Gifts – by Sarah

Outfitted – by Sarah Jo

Growing Gratitude in our Family – by Sondra

Teaching Gratefulness – by Stephanie

How Grateful Looks From Here – by Alison 

Fighting Entitlement in Children and All of us – by Leah

Entitlement Problem – by Karrie

Grateful Today – by Krystal

Letting Go of the Frenzy of December  0

 

IMG_0155 (2)It’s the first week of Advent.

The days are short and dreary.  I just pulled on an extra sweater and resorted to socks and slippers. But my heart is thinking of my friends in Haiti.

And I’m fairly certain they don’t even own a pair of socks, or would, even if they could afford them.  Because pretty much, Haiti is the hottest place on earth.

One of the reasons I love Haiti so much is that it strips away all that I know or pretend to know. When I step off that plane and the first blast of hot air hits my face, I start to recalibrate.  The things I think are so important start to slip away and I’m reminded of what really matters.

The greatest thing happened because I was able to visit these people three times in just over a year… It quit being a “mission trip” and instead became a trip to visit friends.  Having so much concentrated time in their lives means I can remember their names, their stories.  The rhythms of the days, the conversations, the landmarks all run through my head almost every day and they’re reshaping my thoughts and the way I want to live my life.

I walked through those dusty streets, with four kids on a side, all clambering to get closer, rubbing their hands on my pale skin, chattering 100 miles an hour.  Adults would look at us with empty eyes, not a trace of a smile until we called out, “Good morning!” to them and their faces exploded into a smile.

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(Of course I had to include this picture. I mean, the cutest kid in the world is wearing a SANTA CLAUS shirt.)

I can’t explain it, really, but we spend our week walking and talking.  Not really doing anything earth shattering or life changing.  We simply build relationships… and they teach me so much.

I stood in front of a Haitian church full of people, talking about my Annie and what it means to be blessed.  And I cried— because I always cry— but it was more than the sorrow I feel over losing her.  Instead, I cried because I was speaking to a whole church of people who have suffered deeply.  Who have lost so much and still rejoice.  Who have gone without and still declare that God is good.

We’ve been home now for six weeks, but in many ways we are still processing what we saw and heard and what to do with what we’ve been given.  Because these trips don’t end when you get home.  They get buried in your heart and mind.

So when my inbox is flooded with black friday deals and I have to begin a clipboard of lists in order to keep everything in December straight, I find myself caught in a mental tug of war.  What really matters?  If Aldine or Lovely or Ricardo were visiting me, what would they think about my life?

We have been trained to be overwhelmed and busy during this season.  Oh sure, it’s not what we wish for, but what can we do about it?  Before we know it, we wear our stress like a badge of honor.

And I can’t help but wonder if we subconsciously pile on a layer of stress in order not to face what’s really going on in our lives.  After all, if we spend every minute preparing and rushing, then we don’t have to face our feelings of sadness, of disappointment, of emptiness that are buried under all of our errands and anxiousness.

If we keep our minds on the surface, on the next place we have to run, then we have no space in our heads to think about what it means to anticipate the birth of Jesus. When our heads hit the pillow in exhaustion, we quickly forget the significant, the eternal, instead overcome by menial tasks.

So we buy more presents, make more food and keep adding to the lists, convincing ourselves this is the way to have a meaningful Christmas… but in the end, our hearts feel hollow and joyless.

Paul writes, “Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking.  Instead, fix your attention on God.” (Romans 12:2, The Message)

What would happen if we quieted our hearts and our minds?  If we risked buying less for everyone and instead focused on loving deeply? What if— gasp—  I decided to cross a few things off my list without doing them? Surely the world wouldn’t stop spinning?

What if I’d be intentional about giving more to others?  Not just  collecting hats and mittens locally, or giving to people around the world, though I’m certainly advocating for those things.  I’m talking about giving my time to really sit and talk to someone who is having a hard time this season.  I’m talking about inviting a family over that needs some encouraging.  I’m talking about stopping my busy frenzy when the kids come home from school, sitting and looking at them in the eyes when they walk in the door, ready to tell me about their day.

My Haitian friends are teaching me that there’s so much more to life than I think.  They, who have lost so much and have so little to give, have given me the biggest gift of all.  They’re teaching me to move slowly through life, digging through the sorrow to find the hope Jesus brings.

May you find these treasures during this month, even if it means you must cross a few things off your lists without doing them.  May you be brave enough to reach out for the great joy that Jesus is handing you… because only then will you be able to fill your hollow heart.

 

Suggested Resources:

The Greatest Gift by Ann Voskamp (And here’s the version we’re using as a family)
Raising Grateful Kids in an Entitled World by Kristen Welch (I’m part of a launch team to promote this amazing book, so you’ll be hearing more.  When you preorder, you’ll get a great Global Family Kit)

Give Them a Boost {How you can help my Haitian friends}  1

 

IMG_4608It just so happens that there was a huge cargo ship that sunk after being caught up in waves caused by Hurricane Joaquin this week.  It may have caught your eye if you keep up with current headlines and maybe you were relieved that although the ship sunk, the crew was rescued and all seemed to end well.

 

The ship was a mere 50 miles from the coast of Haiti, where many were eagerly waiting for the crates and barrels.  So the crew was safe, but those who had lost what was on that ship are devastated.

I received a text shortly after the news broke.  My friends, Larry and Diana Owen, the ones I have stayed with both times I’ve been there, spent the summer in the states gathering supplies and loading them onto crates.  The rented a moving truck and drove eighteen-thousand pounds of food and building materials and generators and Christmas gifts for orphans to Florida and loaded it onto that very ship.

And now it’s all on the bottom of the ocean floor.

I have been so heartbroken for them and for my Haitian friends.

Perhaps one of the hardest things for me to process since I’ve been to Haiti is the astounding hardship these people face.    For the Haitians, these blows are so devastating.

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Every morning in Haiti we would join Larry on his walk up the mountain.  He would put a bit of money in his pocket and we would put a few pieces of candy in ours and we would slowly walk.  It was still dark when we started and there were only a few people outside, mostly Mamas sweeping the garbage off the street and children sitting on the porches, brushing their teeth.  They would pass us without making eye contact until we would call out “Bonjour” to them.  And then, the most beautiful thing would happen.  They would look us in the eyes and return the greeting. Their sullen faces would break into beautiful smiles.  Sometimes Larry would give them a small bit of money, enough to buy a banana, and we would slip a piece of candy to a child. “All I can do is kick the can a little farther down the road,” he’d say. “I can’t change their lives, but I can give them a little boost.  This might be the best thing that happens to them this week.”  He would tell us the Haitians couldn’t imagine why we would want to come to visit them, why we would even smile at them.

Poverty is more than not having money, it’s despair and hopelessness, an inability to think that life could ever be different, that there will ever be even a shred of joy. Poverty is a life sentence for so many, but it doesn’t have to be the end of the story.IMG_5881IMG_4409

IMG_5894And so, a sunken cargo ship is not just a little setback.  It’s another blow for a group of people who barely had anything to begin with.

The cost is extraordinary, but why wouldn’t we help?  This, my friends, is what we do.  If you would like to be part of the movement, you can go to wavesofmercy.org to help replace the supplies that were lost and to pay for shipping costs, which are extraordinary.

We live in abundance but often we trick ourselves into thinking we don’t have enough… The truth is, we have more than most people in the world.  Maybe we can’t do something big and amazing, but we can give these people a little boost.  Maybe you could be the best thing to happen today for my Haitian friends.IMG_5915IMG_4581 IMG_5788

P.S.  It probably won’t come as a big surprise to you that I’m going to be returning to Haiti in just a few weeks… and this time I’m taking Peter with me!  These people have captured my heart in a big way and I can’t wait to see them again.

Hold Tight; Hold Loose  1

 

IMG_8790I, like much of the world, cannot get the image of little Aylan, lying on the shore of a Turkish beach, out of my mind. I cry whenever I see footage of the refugees, feeling so hopelessly far away to do anything.

I’ve learned to pay attention to my tears and so I’ve been thinking about them as I pray.

It seems that the death of this sweet boy is changing the world, transforming what so many have seen as simply a nuisance. One heartbreaking photograph has awoken us to the tragedy that these people– with histories and families and anguish of a world turned upside down– deserve to be treated as guests, not as dispensable.

And I wonder how it feels to his father, who lost both of his sons and his wife while trying to bring them to safety. What it must be like to know that a world is staring at his sweet boy’s lifeless body on the shore of the sea.

Whenever we share Annie’s story, a battle ensues in my heart. I want so much to hold her close to me, to treasure my memories and what little time we had with her. I don’t always want to share her. What we had was so short and in my selfishness I want to keep it all to myself.

But something happens when we share her… when we allow God to redeem our pain and work in the lives of other people. I find that it doesn’t diminish the gift of her life, but it strangely expands it. It’s unexplainable and you’d think that after almost six years I’d be quicker to share, quicker to let go of my desire to gather it all close to me.

I fully realize that little Aylan may be the catalyst to save the lives of millions in an unbelievable crisis. I see how God uses what is viewed as the weakest among us to do powerful things.

But behind it all, I see a father in the deepest of griefs. I can imagine the pain and cost that comes with the family he has lost.

Last week Peter shared our family’s story in his sermon. It’s been awhile since he’s done it and I was so anxious the whole morning. I knew it was the right thing for him to do, however it just doesn’t get any easier. I texted my friend after the service saying I’m glad God uses our story… but I just wish it was someone else’s story.

The weight of carrying something so precious is unbearable sometimes. I get stuck weighing out the pros and cons. The death of little Aylan may save countless lives, and the impact of those photographs will circle the world. But underneath it all is a father, who will live with unbelievable grief for the rest of his days. He will carry those photographs like none of the rest of us will. For us, we see just a photo. For him, a million memories and a shattered heart.

In a small way, I understand. I vacillate between the why questions and the aha moments. There are times when I look at our story and am in such awe God would trust us with Annie’s life, with sharing this story and experiencing the amazing ways He is changing others through someone who couldn’t even speak or walk. And yet, I miss her so. When the school year starts, when we take a family photo, in a million little and big ways I’m reminded of the gaping hole in our family.

So today, I am praying. For those beautiful, amazing people who are fleeing for their lives. Their faces make me weep. And I am praying for Aylan’s father, who must hold lightly to his son who has captured the world in his death. In his deepest of grief, may he have the courage to see that God can use the smallest to bring rescue.

Come, Jesus. Oh, how we need You to bring peace to our chaos and joy to our sorrow.

(The Bible is clear about the importance of bring justice to the oppressed. We, as the Church, have to act.  Ann Voskamp has an excellent list of ways you can help.)

The Regret of not Doing  0



“Your Cross-Grace is enough to cover not only the hard things that we wish we had never done, but also the good things that we wish we had got done, the things that can weigh heaviest of all.”

I was in line behind her at Chipotle.  She was a single mom, hardly old enough to live on her own.  Her toddler girl was gorgeous, with wide eyes and curly black hair pulled back.  She babbled and laughed.

She was sitting in her infant car seat and I knew that she was easily six months over the age limit.  Her legs had grown too long and loped over the end, her ponytail resting over the top.  And I was heartbroken for a few reasons.  Was there anyone in the mom’s life to help her navigate things like carseats and potty training and what foods are best?  Did she even know that her baby wasn’t safe in her seat?  Did she have the resources to get what she needed for her girl?  Either way, it pulled at my heart.

We got our food and as I took my first bite, I discovered our table was situated in a place so that every time I looked up, I caught the little girl’s eye and she would smile at me.  She was so happy.  The mom and her friend were chatting, and she would give her little girl a bite of her food every few minutes.

I wanted to encourage her, to tell her that being a mom is hard but the joy in her daughter’s eyes told me that she was doing a great job.  I felt like Jesus was gently prodding me to hand her some money, to tell her to go out and buy a new car seat for her toddler, no strings attached.

Guess what?

I wimped out.  I totally did not do it.  I even talked to Peter about it and he told me I should.  I knew where she had parked, so I could’ve put the envelope on her windshield and she never would’ve known.  But I didn’t want to offend her.  I didn’t want her to think she was a bad mom by suggesting that she wasn’t taking care of her daughter.  And I was scared. I came up with every excuse I could think of until it was too late.

“By entering through faith into what God has always wanted to do for us—set us right with him, make us fit for him—we have it all together with God because of our Master Jesus. And that’s not all: We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand—out in the wide open spaces of God’s grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise.” Romans 5:1-3

I could fill a book on the things in my life that I should’ve done and didn’t do.  I wonder why after all these years I still struggle with doing what I know Jesus is asking me to do.  What is it that I’m so afraid of?

“We repent and give to You things we wish we had never done and pray for grace to cover the things we wish we had done”

I can’t go back.  I can’t undo.  But that doesn’t mean I have to live in regret.  And so I put down my regrets, I repent of them and I pick up the cross— the weightlessness of the Grace of Jesus– because He has set me right with Him.

And I pray that the next time I will be braver.

What regrets do you carry?  What do you wish you’d never done; and what good things have you left undone?  Today, refuse to let your heaviness keep you from the foot of the cross.  No matter what you have done or where you find yourself, you belong in the wide open space of God’s grace.

**Words in italics are taken from Ann Voskamp’s “Lent to Repent” cards (Yeah, I know Lent is over. It’s just that we’re always running about a week behind.  Ha.)

Handson & Clairlande {and how I’ve fallen for haiti}  1

Remember that time I left to Haiti with only a few days notice and then I didn’t write about it for almost two months? Oops.

It was a great trip.  No, better than that.  It was awesome.  Returning within six months of my first trip meant that the memories were still fresh, the people were close in my heart.  It was just good.

And a wedding!  Are these not the two most beautiful people in the world?  Watching the excitement that so many others had for Handson and Clairlande was contagious.  I spent the day of the wedding watching the bridesmaids painstakingly get ready.  They dressed the little girls a full THREE HOURS before we left for the church and then told them to sit… and they did!  They were handed a plate of food and those sweet girls ate every bit without spilling it on their dresses.  AND THEN, they handed Little Mama (that’s what they call her, bless her heart) a pillow with the ACTUAL RINGS and she held on to them all the way to the church and for the ceremony until it was time to give them up.

During the wedding my friend and I noticed a few people with their phones taking pictures.  As the time got closer and closer to the kiss at the end, more and more people kept coming forward to get pictures…. until we could no longer see the Bride and Groom! People were on the stage, squeezing in as close as they could get in order to snap a picture of the main event.

Afterward we gathered for the reception, which was just people crammed in a tiny room where everyone got a spicy tuna sandwich wrapped in a white paper napkin.  (Which, by the way, was the moment that the stark contrast of weddings in the United States hit me the deepest).

In a country where there is so much to grieve, so much that brings tears to my eyes, it was amazing to be a part of something so joyful.  To see how others celebrated these two, to watch how deeply they were able to rejoice…. it was good for my soul.

Once upon a time when I had such little kids, I wondered if my dreams of going to other countries and experiencing how God is working in our world would ever come true.  I often felt restless and stuck.  Being a Mama has always been my biggest and best dream; I was happy to be with my children and content with raising them… but in the back of my mind, I was eager and longing to go.

Flying to Haiti not one, but two, times in the past six months has been a sweet gift from Jesus.  And the fact that I was able to pull off travel plans, packing, arranging child care and a million details in just a week is a miracle in itself.  I am so thankful for ways that Jesus gives us the desires of our heart.

I’m fairly certain that I’m not going to be able to quit Haiti.  I’ve fallen hard for the people, for the beauty, even for the heat.  My heart breaks for the poverty, for the tragedy that every Haitian carries in their hearts.  And yet the way they love Jesus without abandon, the trust and hope they have in Christ challenges me deeply.  In their brokenness, they have taught me so much.

Congratulations Pastor Handson and Clairlande!  You may have been the ones to get married, but your day was a lovely gift I’ll always remember.

A Daring Adventure  0

Wednesday morning I got this text:

”Hellloooo!  When you get your kids off to school and have a minute will you call me?  Nothing bad, just crazy… want to see if you can go to Haiti with me next week.  WHAT??!”


I’m a homebody, logical, a planner.  I like to have adventures, but this time of year is busy and, hey, I have lots of kids and they have a lot of stuff.


So of course, I choked and I called my friend as soon as I could.

……. And I told her yes.


Which means that tomorrow (Tuesday), I’ll be boarding a plane to Haiti.  I’ll be there until Saturday.


(This is the part of the story that my friends look at me in utter disbelief, because they know me and how totally out of character this is for me.)


We’re going to a wedding of a Haitian pastor we love…. which, by the way, is better than the funeral I attended last time I was there.  I don’t know a lot of details, and really, that’s okay.  All I know is that as God shapes my life and I try to live with my hands wide open, He sends me these incredible surprises.


My friend, Neile, the sender of the first text, is going to be the Matron of Honor at the wedding.  She is as planned and organized as I am.  The fact that we are going together, last minute, is pretty hysterical.  But we have the greatest husbands, who encouraged us.  Peter’s first reaction was excitement… “Why not?”  he said.


Neile found herself in a bridal shop a few days ago, trying to find a dress in January.  She wrote to me in the dressing room: “Just wanted you to know I’m in a big bridal store surrounded by all these young girls, gathering beige dresses to try on and I’m thinking MY LIFE IS GETTING SO WEIRD.”


Helen Keller said, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.”  I’ve been smiling to myself as I make lists, plan childcare, and try not to panic.  When we say yes to God, the way He leads us is unbelievable and amazing.  I’m not sure what this next week will hold.  But my eyes are open and my heart is ready for wherever He leads me.  

Upon Your Heart  0

Last week I donated the last box of diapers in our house.  I had the hardest time letting them go and found myself trying to come up with weak excuses to keep them.  I’ve been reflecting on it more than can be humanly healthy, but at the bottom of it all (no pun intended), is the shock that I’ve made it this far.

I’m ten years into this parenting thing, and I have done truckloads of things that I had no idea I was capable of doing…  like listening to their deep cries of grief (I still have moments when I wish they could’ve experienced death from a pet) to potty training (I still have no idea how I did that), to sticking up for them when others expect the pastor’s kids to be the perfect ones (fyi: they’re not even close) and listening to endless commentary on countless football games (William congratulated me when I mentioned halftime the other day. It’s sad, really).

Parenting is so intentional, isn’t it?  I can’t just sit back and hope that my kids turn out okay.  I have to guide them and listen to them, keeping in close relationship with Jesus above all.

Lots of years ago, when Kate was a difficult three year old, I remember praying so hard that somehow God would take hold of her heart.  Her strong will was getting the best of both of us and I was out of ideas.  It was around Christmas time and a church in town had a live outdoor nativity.  We walked past the Roman guards and the marketplace, coming up on the stable at the end.  Mary and Joseph were there, along with several animals and baby Jesus.  I was holding Kate and I remember that she stopped wiggling and was so still.  Peter and William moved on, but she whispered, “I’m not ready yet.”  This is it!  I remember thinking, tears in my eyes.  Finally after many minutes of silence and stillness, she whispered to me “I’m just waiting for that cow over there to poop.”

Just like that I realized that I couldn’t wish for some magic solution to her cure her strong will.  Instead, the heart change had to be in me.  Peter and I have learned to celebrate who she is, to bend her strong will to be a strength instead of something that gets the best of her.  It’s a slow process, but as we watch her bloom, to stick up for the underdog, to do the right thing even when it isn’t what everyone else is doing– well, it makes me burst with love for her.

In Deuteronomy 6, right after Moses gave the Ten Commandments, he tells the people about other things that God told him to teach the people.  He says,

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.  These commands I give you today are to be upon your hearts.  Impress them on your children.  Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.”

Do you see what Moses said right before he told them to impress the laws on their children?  He said they were to first be upon the parent’s hearts. Before we can teach our children how to love God, we first have to love God ourselves.  His commands have to be on our hearts, as parents, first.  If I’m not living my life for Christ, then I can’t expect my kids to.  When it comes to character and faith, they see right through it.

Last week we were praying before dinner.  We had let Hank, our old dog, out and he was watching us through the window.  But Hank has this problem.  He still runs away, even in his old age, and it was bitterly cold and dark.  We knew if we let him out of our sights, he’d be gone in a flash, and it would not be good.  So while we prayed, Peter and I kept our eyes on Hank… and the kids caught us.  They said, “You didn’t close your eyes while we prayed!  Why do you tell us we have to close our eyes if you don’t do it?”  We were busted (but they were busted, too, since they clearly had their eyes open to catch us).

My kids know when it’s real and they aren’t afraid to challenge me when they see that what I’m telling them to do is not lining up with my actions. Sometimes it’s the little things that don’t matter so much, like not closing my eyes while praying.  But often it’s the bigger things that could have a real impact on their future.  I don’t have to be perfect— just honest.  Whatever I want my children to become, I should strive to become as well.

It has to be upon my heart before I can impress it on theirs.

If I want my kids to respect their leaders, I also need to respect my leaders.
If I want my kids to admit they’re wrong, I have to learn to tell them I’m sorry when I mess up.
If I want them to be generous, I need to give freely.
If I want them to be kind, they have to see me building others up
If I want them to be honest, they need to see me being honest with others.
If I want them to follow Jesus, I have to love Him with all my heart and soul and strength.

It has to be in me before it can be in my kids.  And it has to be in you before it can be in your kids.  What if you believed that the greatest thing that could happen in the heart of your child would be what happened in your heart first? Your kids can’t see who you are becoming if they never see who you really are.  And if they never see who you really are, how will they know the difference God has made and continues to make in your life?

I was not a gracious mom yesterday morning.  As my mind replays it now, I am ashamed at the way I sent my kids to school.  True, they picked on one another far more than they should’ve and true, they made many unnecessary messes (I’m looking at you, toaster crumbs).  But I got mad.  And after I pulled away from the school drop-off and finally had a moment of quiet, I realized that I could’ve stopped and prayed with them instead of getting angry.  It might have changed our morning, or maybe it’s wouldn’t have, but I know my own soul would’ve been settled.  When they got home, I asked for forgiveness.  My kids see who I really am and it often isn’t great.  I hate it when I get it wrong, but I can redeem my actions if I choose to swallow my pride and make it right with God and with them.

“God is at work telling a story of restoration and redemption through your family. Never buy into the myth that you need to become the ‘right’ kind of parent before God can use you in your children’s lives.  Instead learn to cooperate with whatever God desires to do in your heart today so your children will have a front-row seat to the grace and goodness of God.”– Reggie Joiner

 

“He tends His flock like a shepherd; He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart; He gently leads those who have young.”– Isaiah 40:11

Take heart today. I don’t know who you are or where you are in your relationship with Christ.  Maybe you find it easy to be intentional with your kids or maybe you find yourself weary from trying to get it all right all the time.  Maybe you’ve surprised yourself with how hard it is to be a parent.  Maybe you’re just starting out, or maybe you’re at the end.  Wherever you find yourself, know that God is with you.  He promises to carry you close to His heart.  He wants you first to love Him with everything you have, and then to teach that love to your children.  He will lead you one tiny step at a time.

{I chose the pictures as proof that we have lots of “moments” in our house.  So. many. moments.  But also?  I have to remember that if I wait long enough, frowns eventually turn to smiles.  Most of the time.}

{Also, want to read more?  I love Parenting Beyond your Capacity by Reggie Joiner and Carey Nieuwhof and the corresponding blog Parent Cue.  I’m also on the tail end of Nancy Guthrie’s The Lamb of God and her chapter on Deuteronomy has been so eye opening to me.}

On Poverty {step into my shoes}  1

For the past few Monday nights, after we get dinner on the table, we’ve been opening up a little cardboard box called “Step Into My Shoes”.

We’ve met a Pastor Tom and Momma Nancy, along with their 12 children.  They live in Uganda and they’ve been teaching us, via DVD, about what it means to have enough.  The first week we watched how they take plastic bags and fibers from the banana tree to make a soccer ball… and then we made one of our own.  Last week we watched them roast ears of corn on the fire while they sang and prayed together.  As a family we talked about belonging and about the ways that we are the same and different than Pastor Tom and Nancy’s family. Through the next sessions, we’ll learn how they gather water, how they prepare food, how they find safety as they sleep, how they travel to school and how they worship.

 

“With our busy lives, we sometimes need a story that reminds that simplicity leads to joy and the opposite of poverty is not wealth, it’s finding God is enough. As we discover God’s purposes and provisions for us, our families and our world, we live blessed to be a blessing.”– Compassion International

Two weeks after I came home from Haiti, I found myself in Louisville, Kentucky at the MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) International conference.  I had responded to an email invitation from Compassion International for a luncheon they were serving during the conference.   When a beautiful girl named Olive stood up and started speaking with confidence and poise, I sat in rapt attention as the stories came tumbling off her lips.

She herself had once been a Compassion Child.  She was from Africa, living through wars and unspeakable tragedy.  She told of her disappointment when she was told she could not go to school, how she had followed her grandmother to the fields on the first day, thinking of all her cousins and friends as they went without her.  She told of her excitement to get home and hear all about it and the confusion when it turned dark and they still hadn’t returned.  And then she shared her horror when they realized that during the day rebel soldiers had come to the school and had taken every child. By God’s grace she had been spared.  She grew up with hope, knowing Jesus.  She spoke of a family from Australia who supported her through Compassion for years after her mother died of AIDS.  She gets to meet them this winter, 20 years later.  It was the only time during her talk that she cried.

It was unbelievable.  With my own stories from Haiti freshly in my heart, I knew that God was showing me again the pain in the world.

At the end of the luncheon, we were handed a box and an invitation.  An invitation to shift our focus from to-do lists and busy schedules to “living from God’s enough”.  Step Into My Shoes is a 7-step walk in the footsteps of Pastor Tom and Nancy.  As we’ve been “slipping on their shoes” each week, we’ve been looking at how Scripture calls us to follow Jesus.  For our family, this is a practical way we can see the world through God’s eyes.  It’s another piece in the puzzle as we help our kids form the way they see the world.  And let me tell you, the conversations we have been having and the ways that I see my kids processing poverty makes my heart burst.  This is the stuff that matters in life.

Would you like to request a box for your family? It’s totally free– a gift from Compassion International, no matter if you sponsor a child or not.

 

Snapshot {Superman}  1

For a week in mid-September (2014) I was in Haiti.  I’ve been digesting my experience bit by bit here on my blog.  You can find the whole series of Snapshots here.

There’s this Haitian they call Superman. And there’s this story from years ago– that when they were building the mission, a wall began to cave in and one of the other workers was trapped under the dirt. All the Haitians froze, staring at the man as he struggled to get out from under the debris. Larry (he’s the missionary that we stayed with) jumped in and started to dig with his hands frantically as the Haitians screamed, “It’s going to cave in! Get out! Get out!” But Larry kept digging faster and the Haitians kept yelling louder.
Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Superman swept in.  He lifted both of them men out of the hole.  He got them to safety and literally seconds later, the entire wall caved in.  Superman, risking his own life,  saved them from being buried alive.

I didn’t get to meet Superman.  He died just a few days before we arrived in Haiti, of an infection.  After all he did for the people of Haiti (he spent twenty years building the mission and working there), it was fitting that we were there for his funeral.  He was 47 years old.

We rode in the bed of a pickup truck 45 minutes to the town of his funeral.  Most of the way there, as I was precariously balancing, exercising muscle groups that I didn’t know existed, I was selfishly thinking of the amazing cultural experience this would be.  A funeral! And just a day into my trip!  I asked if I could take pictures.

And then we arrived. I couldn’t process the sound I heard, because I had never heard anything like it.  Ever.

It was the sound of wailing.  A church full of wailing people, rocking back and forth, pleading, “Jesus, Jesus”. At times we couldn’t even hear the Pastor talking because the wailing was so loud.  It was so hot and so stifling.  My new friend, Pam, and I were squeezed next to one another, the sweat running down our backs.  People kept sitting next to us… and when I thought we couldn’t possibly fit one more in our row, we fit four more.  She would lean forward and I would lean back.  And then we would switch because there was no room for both of us to be in the same position.

There were no flowers, only ribbons made to look like flowers, because flowers would cost too much.  We were told that Superman’s widow would be paying for this funeral for a very long time.

I closed my eyes and drifted off, unable to process the grief and sorrow I was hearing.  These people– they have so little.  So much has been taken from them and they live with their souls wide open, rejoicing and grieving without abandon.  So raw.

They carried his widow out with the casket.  She was unable to support herself.  His two young daughters, too.  They loaded his casket onto the back of a truck and then we walked.  Hundreds of us walked quietly for over 30 minutes, following the truck to the cemetery.

 

And we watched from a distance as they destroyed his casket, pulling the handles off of it, to keep it from being stolen.  The tombstones were cement, with crude dates written by hand on them.  I learned that in a few years, the people take the remains of a person out, shove the bones back and make room for someone else.

I could only pray, “Lord, have mercy.”  These people have experienced too much grief, too much hardship.  With a freshness, my heart broke open as I realized how deeply Jesus loves these people and how He loves the underdog without abandon.

I have no good ending for this story, no little sweet verse to tie it up neatly.  This one cut me to the core.  I never want to get over it, yet it haunts me.  Now that I’m home, in the world of changing leaves and running errands and pumpkin lattes, it almost seems unbelievable.  And yet there is a very real widow today, putting the pieces of her life back together, putting one foot in front of the other in order to survive.  Lord, have mercy on her today.