Category: faith & serving

Piles.  4

There are piles everywhere around here.

We are getting ready to go on a trip.  A trip that has me equal parts excited and scared, happy and sad.

Excited because I know in my gut it’s going to be amazing.
Scared because I know that my heart is going to get all twisted and my eyes are going to be opened.
Happy to have a week with Peter and to leave my kids with no worries.
Sad to leave my kids, even with no worries.

 These piles will make their way into our suitcases.
And then we will gladly give it away to kids, to moms, to babies, to new friends in Ecuador.

 Will you pray for us?  Will you pray for the Compassion leaders, the children and families?  Will you pray for Jefferson as we meet for the first time in person?

P.S.  We will do our best to update you over the next week.  I’m not making any promises, though.

Eight.  2

Eight years ago I started out on this thing called “Being-A-Mama”.  It’s quite the thing isn’t it!?

When I gave birth, a month early, five weeks into living in Michigan, I had no clue.

My post-birth glow quickly turned grey when they told me that William would have to be transferred to the NICU in another hospital.  I stubbornly told them I would be going with him.  They tried to tell me no.

It didn’t work.

I spent the next week on a fold out couch, only because they’d kick me out of the chair next to his bassinet.

That first week was terrifying to me because it was my first glimpse of how very little control I would have in my life.

The NICU is a scary place.  I had no idea places like that existed.  Up until that point, I had assumed that babies were born and then they went home.  That was the plan, anyway.

In those short eight days, I learned a lot.  I heard nurses singing sweet songs as they rocked babies.   I saw babies who didn’t have one visitor.  My tears for my new son combined with my tears for all the tiny babies who were fighting much bigger battles than we were.

It was good for me to have my eyes opened up to the world of sick babies.  It marked me in a big way. And now I know, well, that was just the beginning.  Little did I know that a short stay in the NICU, later bringing home a healthy, pudgy baby, would get lost in the shuffle of much scarier, heart-breaking things.

So it seems right, somehow, that William ushered us into parenting.  After all, aren’t all first borns the guinea pigs of the family?  If only he knew that the parenting really has more to do with us– his Mom and Dad– than it has to do with him.

The other night, as I put him to bed, he asked me, “How do you know when God has called you to something?  How do you know it’s really God?”

And I couldn’t help it.  I flashed back to the tiny bassinet with cords and IVs stuck in his arm.  I saw Kate and her tantrums that end in deep sorrow.  I pictured a small room where we sobbed and told the kids that their baby sister was going to die.  And I watched myself give birth a fourth time, barely able to breathe until I heard that cry.

I told him, “You know God has called you to something when you can’t imagine doing anything else.  When, in spite of your fear, in spite of your sorrow, in spite of your mistakes, you still press on.  That’s when you’ve been called.”

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.’
  Psalm 91:1-2

On Nurturing my Kids.  9

So many times when I find myself getting frustrated with my kids I realize that I’ve grown lazy in being intentional with them.

Just because I send my kids to church several times a week doesn’t mean that I’ve been left off the hook in their spiritual development.   It’s so important for me, as a Mom, to nurture my kids in their relationship with Christ.

Did you know that Susanna Wesley, as she raised her children, would often sit down at her kitchen table, flip her apron over her head and pray?  Her kids knew that they weren’t allowed to bug her when they saw her apron-covered head.

Here’s a quote I love from a letter she wrote to her husband:

“I am a woman, but I am also the mistress of a large family.  I am not a man nor a minister, yet as a mother and a mistress I felt I ought to do more than I had yet done. I resolved to begin with my own children; in which I observe the following method: I take such a proportion of time as I can spare every night to discourse with each child apart. On Monday I talk with Molly, on Tuesday with Hetty, Wednesday with Nancy, Thursday with Jacky, Friday with Patty, Saturday with Charles.” (source)

That’s the kind of Mom I want to be . . . a Mom that acknowledges the massive undertaking it is to raise kids in a broken, suffering world and actively seeks Christ to get through each day.  Intentionally. (Although I’m not sure I aspire to have a different child to “discourse” with each day of the week!  ha!)

Here are a few things I’ve been doing to help them along.

Peter and I want the kids to know the importance of praying daily for others.  So we sat down and wrote people’s names out on strips of paper.  Each morning we pull a name out and pray for that person/family during each meal time.  It doesn’t take long, but it’s made a big impact on our days.  Sometimes I take the extra step to write to the family to let them know that they were our “family of the day” and that we’ve been praying for them (but, honestly, this step doesn’t happen often).

Most of the people are friends and family, but we also had a few in there that the kids thought were funny.  Like the Manning family.  You know, as in Eli and Peyton.  Or the Obamas.   But when we wrote out names, I wanted them to realize that you don’t have to personally know someone to pray for them.  And being famous doesn’t necessarily mean that they don’t need prayer.

After ending our Jesse Tree (in February . . . our advent season went a little long this year.  ha!), we missed having something to do together.  So I hunted around a little and put together Quiet Time Journals for the kids.  (Here and here are the resources I used)  We pull these out a few times a week (sometimes more, sometimes less–  I really want to cultivate a love for the Word of God and not put emphasis on how often they are doing their Quiet Time.  The importance of regularity will come later).

William is studying the book of Luke.  Each time he reads a few verses and then answers a few questions I’ve written for him.  Somedays I’ll have him write out a particular verse that I want him to remember.  For his prayer time, I always have him come up with something he’s thankful for, something to ask forgiveness for, and something to ask for.

We read Kate a story from her Jesus Storybook Bible.  Then she draws a picture of what she read.  For her prayer time, she draws a picture of who or what she is praying for.  Because she loves drawing so much, she’s so excited to fill in her journal each time (and it keeps me from having to tell her how to s-p-e-l-l each word).

I try to direct their prayer times a little.  One day they’ll focus on neighbors or their siblings or friends.  Sometimes I have them pray for missionaries or for people who don’t know Jesus.  I try to remember that prayer is something they don’t just know how to do . . . they need to be taught how to do it.

Also, we’ve been listening to Scripture.  This morning I stuck in a cd of Matthew.  I loved walking through the living room and hearing snippets of verses.  And we have Seeds Family Worship loaded on the ipod.  Are you familiar with them?  I have been amazed at the Scripture songs I have running through my head and the impact they have on my thoughts.

Now, in full disclosure, I am having a hard time publishing this post as I think about my “mom skills” this week.  Let’s just say I’m glad I don’t get evaluations.  I would probably lose my job.  But underneath all my own selfishness and laziness and general impatience, I do truly desire that my kids would love God and His Word deeply.

P.S.  Were you wondering about Eliza’s Quiet Time?  Well, she uses that time to sneak the big kids’ cups of juice.  She thinks she’s pretty hot stuff.

Love Notes.  2

I went for a walk this morning.  It was beautiful.  Sunny.  Crisp.

I walked past a little stream and began to silently thank God for the unexpected gurgle.  But as the words came out, I noticed a styrofoam cup, a shopping bag, wadded up newspaper.  Huh.

I walked past a house with festive decorations and started to smile.  Then I saw that instead of taking down their fall decor, they had left the pumpkins and just added lights to the mix.  Classy, I thought.  The next house had three angels with lights strung around their necks, choking them.  To top it off, the owner had put fake garland around them.  I wondered why she didn’t use the beautiful branches from her pine tree a few feet away.  I mean, really?

And then it hit me that my criticism was suffocating me even in the fresh air.

Joy is something that I have to choose.  Grace is something I can find in this desert too.

And so, I took another deep breath.  I began to thank God for the people who lived in each house I passed. I prayed for the hurt in their lives.  I prayed that the love of Christ would be real to them.  And I thanked Him for beauty that surrounding me in unexpected ways.

Lately when I’ve read the Bible I’ve had such a hard time focusing.  I find it much too easy to let the day slip by without sitting down and spending time with God.  And when I do take the time?  It seems mundane.  Uneventful.  Flat.  Sometimes I just can’t wrap my mind around His Words.

My heart seems to be suffocating.  One day I don’t get any fresh air at all. The next day I get the fresh air of His Word, and yet I spend my time too anxious to get on to the next thing on the list.

The rest of the day I find myself still mulling over the trash in the creek, the gaudy decorations, my resistance to stop and receive His grace.  Ugh!  What is wrong with me?

In that moment, I look up.
And my eyes begin to see– to really see.

I look around my house and notice pictures from Kate.  Little notes of love from her to me, with the sun hitting them in just the right places.

I hear a whisper, “Even in this place, I love you.  I created you.  I am with you.  Breathe My joy deeply and let Me fill you.  Grab your tambourine and resume your singing.”

And I do.

This is the way God put it:
   “They found grace out in the desert, these people who survived the killing.
Israel, out looking for a place to rest, met God out looking for them!”
God told them, “I’ve never quit loving you and never will. 
   Expect love, love, and more love!
And so now I’ll start over with you and build you up again, dear virgin Israel.
You’ll resume your singing,  grabbing tambourines and joining the dance.
You’ll go back to your old work of planting vineyards on the Samaritan hillsides,
And sit back and enjoy the fruit— oh, how you’ll enjoy those harvests!
The time’s coming when watchmen will call out from the hilltops of Ephraim:
‘On your feet! Let’s go to Zion, 
   go to meet our God!'”
Jeremiah 31:2-6

Gentleness  2

We were having a bit of a problem in our house, in the sibling rivalry department.
The Thriving Family Magazine from Focus on the Family mysteriously appeared in our mailbox and I flipped through it and found this article on Gentleness.

What could I lose?

Now, I will say that these little activities helped us understand gentleness and what the Bible says about it.  We had fun.  We prayed and read the Bible together.  But the sibling rivalry department is still experiencing problems.   I’m beginning to think it’s a problem that requires constant supervision . . . for the next 18+ years.  Am I right?

Anyway, one morning William looked up our verse.  And then I gave each person in our family a raw egg.  We wrote our names on them and put them in ziploc bags (triple checked to make sure they were sealed).  We traded our eggs and for the next two hours, we had to hold someone else’s egg, being gentle so it would not break.

We talked about how we should be gentle with others– in our words and our actions.  We can break someone’s spirit by hurting their feelings or not listening to them.  As a family, it’s vital that we are gentle with one another.  And, most importantly, we are gentle because God’s Word commands us to.

After talking and praying, and patting ourselves on the back that we were being STELLAR parents by not only having family devotions, but tacking an object lesson along with it, it came time to trade our eggs back to the original owner (note the sarcasm).

Lo and behold, not only had a certain child’s egg been smashed, there was not a bit of shell to be found in the ziploc.  Please tell me how one can accomplish that feat?

This is early in the breakage.  No evidence exists of the shell-less egg so as not to encourage non-gentleness.

Gentleness.
Next time, I may boil the eggs first.

P.S.  Bonus Pic!  This is how I found Eliza that day after her nap.  She is a silly one!