Category: life & everyday

A Thanksgiving Chat  0

FullSizeRenderIn honor of Thanksgiving and because my last post was heavy, here are a few things I’ve been thinking about:

  • I wouldn’t say my last post went viral, but hello people, it drew a lot more traffic than any other post I’ve ever written.  Over and over I’m reminded of just how many are hurting.  Maybe that’s you… and if so, can I ask you to pray for the others who are walking the same path? We need to be reminded that we’re in this together.  I’m completely overwhelmed with the ways God is using our story.
  • We got eight inches of snow for our first snow of the year… which just seems a little unnecessary and ridiculous to me.  However, I’m always ready for a good pot of soup and it ’tis the season!  (If I invite you over for dinner, chances are the recipes I use will be from Mel.)

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  • Remember when I wrote about my friends in Haiti and the cargo ship that sunk to the bottom of the ocean with all their belongings?  I’m so excited to tell you that people have rallied alongside them!  Not only did they receive enough money to pay for new supplies, they actually got TWICE what they originally had.  It makes me want to cry, because I can picture their sweet faces and the joy in their eyes.  Peter and I just returned from Haiti and we are still quietly shaking our heads over all we saw and experienced.  It’s an amazing place, friends, and every time I go, I just love it more (I promise to write more about it soon).  My friend, Neile, has been stocking a little Etsy shop with the sweetest little hand-stitched embroidery hoops and all her proceeds go to Waves of Mercy.  I hope you’ll hop over and check it out.  I had to buy the gumball one because the little boy was one of my favorites… and his name is Mackinlove.  I mean, really. I could eat him up.
  • Those cheap grocery store goldfish? They don’t always die after the first week.  I’m telling you, we’ve had three going strong for over a year.  In the same small bowl.  Not always fed or taken care of.  I think we might actually be sad when their time comes.
  • This was a great blog post.  I feel so helpless sometimes in my little corner of the world, unable to even articulate what I really think about all that’s going on around me, but when I read Sarah Bessey’s post, I nod along and think, “Yes. This is me.”RGK-gratefulheart
  • I’m part of a Launch Group for a new book by Kristen Welch called, “Raising Grateful Kids in an Entitled World”.  I’m excited to share it with you.  I deeply desire for my kids to be grateful and I struggle with how to take them out of the entitlement they think they deserve. I read the first chapter last night and was nodding my head the whole time. (There are some great goodies if you preorder).
  • Advent begins on Sunday and I can hardly wait.  While I know there will be stress and busyness during the next month, I’m determined to quiet my soul, to prepare for the great joy that has been promised to us.  That might mean I say no to a few things, but more than that, it means that in all the little, ordinary things I do, I want to see Christ.  I believe He shows up in all our normal, everyday moments when I watch for Him.  So it may mean that I’ll have a crazy busy month getting things ready for the ones I love most, but in the middle of it all, I hold my breath in anticipation of the One who came to rescue me.
  • We are visiting my parents over the Thanksgiving holiday.  Eliza received a “dumple bag” and “soup case” for her birthday and she is excitedly packing them with all the necessities for travel (And I use the term necessities loosely).
  • Lastly, we’ve been watching Guy on a Buffalo at our house.  You know you need something funny to laugh about as you’re digesting your turkey.  Don’t thank me, thank my 11 year old son… because pre-teen humor is basically the best.

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.  I am grateful for you.

When the Loud Voice isn’t the Truest Voice  5

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When I turned 15, I took Driver’s Ed.  I was a freaky nervous wreck about the whole thing (no pun intended).

Oh, the classroom part was fine (that was back when we’d just take it as a summer school course,  with all of our friends, and all the driver’s ed teachers were just our regular school teachers)

When they handed out driving assignments, things really went south.  I would listen to my friends whose teachers taught them to drive to McDonalds or Dairy Queen for a cone, or in the least, let them choose the radio station when it was their turn at the wheel. Not me.  I got the teacher who hated all teenagers, namely ones learning to drive.

He would get out an actual tape measure when we’d parallel park and make little notes on his clipboard.  He’d mark off points if we put on our turn signal 10 feet too early and he delighted in taking us on one way streets to see if we could navigate it like the pros we were not.  I remember crying a lot during that month.

It didn’t help that he had a slight lisp (and a bad combover, but that’s not the point).  “Wight!  Turn wight at the light!” he would bark at me.  I was so bent on pleasing him that my brain couldn’t interpret what he was saying.  Inevitably I’d turn left… or go straight… and he would slam on his special passenger brake (he loved that thing) and jot more notes.

I was sure I’d fail.  My dad would try to help by taking me to the high school parking lot on Sunday afternoons; he’d even set up orange cones and he was infinitely patient.  But I’d just end up having a melt down, because I was so discouraged.

On the day of our final test, my teacher took us somewhere I’d never driven before:  a four lane highway.  The on ramps and off ramps and changing lanes…. I felt like I’d been set up.  Never had I felt so helpless and stupid.

I ended up passing the class, with the very lowest score possible.  Not a single point to spare. I sat in the car with my mom when she came to pick me up and I sobbed with relief.  I couldn’t believe it was over.

And yet, it wasn’t over.  Because every time I got behind the wheel of a car, I could hear his voice in my head.  “Turn wight!” “4 inches too far from the curb!” “YOU ARE A TERRIBLE DRIVER!”

It probably doesn’t surprise you that I hate driving.  I’m still, almost 20 years later, really self-conscious when I’m behind the wheel, though I’m getting much better.  The first time someone told me I was a good driver,  I was honestly shocked.  I assumed all people secretly felt like my teacher, but were just kinder when they rode shotgun with me.

Could it be that the story my teacher told about my driving wasn’t the true story?  Could it be that I’ve given him an undeserved voice in my life? Why would I be crazy enough to let someone who had a three-week window into my life shape all that I believed about my ability to drive?  It seems so ridiculous, doesn’t it?!

Bob Goff once tweeted, “Be picky about who you give the microphone to in your life.  Don’t listen to the loudest voice; listen to the truest one.”  Not everyone deserves to have a voice.  But we often are far too generous with the wrong people and end up letting others control how we think and feel about ourselves.

What would happen if we graciously took the microphone from those who don’t deserve it?  Maybe they are actual people who speak into our lives, or maybe they’re just made up voices we’ve let take up residence in our brain.  The pretend conversations we have with people, the negative self-talk that replays over and over, the passing comments we let ruin our day– why do we allow them? How would it change our daily habits if consciously listened to the truest voices?  How would it change our confidence?  How would it change our worldview?

I could go on… but I’m guessing you get the point.  I don’t even need to tie it up with a good Bible verse.

As we number our days, may we be wise enough to hand the right people the microphone.  May we see destructive self-talk for what it is— useless noise— and make a conscious decision to step away.  And may we strain to hear the most important, truest voice of all… Jesus, who knows our deepest faults and crazy habits, and chooses us over and over again.

 

P.S.  Image is of me, found in my senior yearbook.  You know I must love you, dear reader, if I dug this out of the relics.  If you must study it, please be sure to notice the archaic computer on the right page.

Am I Really the Fun Mom?  4

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I posted a picture of the kids and I on the last week of summer.  It looked fun and like I love to play with my kids.  Which is true, to a certain extent.  But I have to tell you that it took me a good long while to get to that point.

The last weeks of summer were a struggle for me.  We had so much fun and did lots of great things, but I just ran out of energy at the end.  As an introvert, it gets really hard for me to have noise all day, both in the forms of talking (so. much. talking.) and the inevitable mess that three active kids bring.  And while I love my kids beyond words, I find it difficult when I don’t have some margin to my days.   So we got to the end and we were just all needing a little structure and space.

A man had come to give a quote on cleaning our carpet a few days earlier and his visit was a surprise to me (Read as: I hadn’t vacuumed for a reeeally long time.  I mean, is there a point?).  I did my best to hold on to my dignity and pretend the state of my house didn’t bother me… but at the end I asked what they would need when they came to clean.  In my mind, I was thinking he would tell me what furniture I would need to move.  Instead he said, “Well, it would help if you’d vacuum first.” Oops.

So that little encounter plus the fact guests were coming put a little fire under me and soon I was lecturing the kids on how we needed to CLEAN THE HOUSE NOW!  I was very clear and very passionate.  Everyone made eye contact and I banned the use of any electronics.  I was not messing around.

I finished my amazing speech, turned and went to take a shower.  Twenty minutes later, I emerged, ready to tackle every surface with their help…. and I found the kids had taken over the entire living room.

There were fortresses made of furniture, pillows and blankets. Sounds of nerf guns and the whizzing of bullets past my head made me quickly realize that perhaps my speech on cleaning hadn’t been as effective as I thought.

At that moment I knew I had a decision to make.  There are a million moments I make the wrong decision and I’m slowly learning from them.  I want to be proactive in my parenting instead of reactive.  My goal is to be invested and connected, not just reacting to what irks me.

So I stepped back.  I went back to the bathroom and dried my hair; put on makeup.  It gave me a few minutes to evaluate what I knew I’d see when I walked back out to the war zone.  Often I react to the situation in ways that don’t show my thankfulness for my kids.  I treat them like they’re a nuisance, selfishly.  It’s not my intent, it’s not what I desire, but it’s something I just do out of instinct.

Often in the Old Testament, God expresses his angst over the Israelites.  In fact, in Ezekiel 20:22, He says, “I seriously considered dumping my anger on them, right there in the desert.  But I thought better of it and acted out of who I was, not by what I felt, so that I might be honored and not blasphemed by the nations who had seen me bring them out.” (The Message)

Oh, let me tell you just how much I can relate to dumping my anger.  Just the normal, dailyness of being a parent can bring me to my end faster than you could believe.  As I add more years on to my life, though, I’m realizing I need to react out of who I am, not by what I feel.  There’s such a difference and I can’t do it on my own.  I need my Savior to help me navigate the deep trenches of parenting, because I get to the end of myself justlikethat.

When I walked out of the bathroom, the kids had cleaned up their forts.  The guns were put away and only a few stray bullets were scattered around.  “Get everything back out,” I said.  I had to repeat it several times to get them to understand.  They screamed and jumped and asked if I was serious.  We set up our zones on either end of the room– Eliza and me on one side, Will and Kate on the other.

And then the war commenced.  We laughed, we tried to come up with the best strategy.  We discussed how many “lives” we could have and argued if our darts counted.  At the end, I was losing my voice from yelling and laughing.

It was my best decision and I wish I’d make it more often.  Because the house eventually got cleaned and all was well… but we also made a great memory.

You know what?  I like who I am when I’m the fun mom.  So do they.

May you act on who you are today, not by what you feel.  May you realize that this journey of parenting is as much about you as it about them.  May you give yourself grace when you get it wrong— and celebrate when you get it right.  And above all, may you realize that your strength as a parent comes from Christ, who blessed you with these precious lives in the first place.

 

Recommended resource: Intentional Parenting by Sissy Goff

Just Keep Walking {let’s talk about reading the Bible}  0

 

IMG_9204If you were to peek into my window at 6:30 a.m., you would likely find me on the couch, with a blanket and coffee, and my Bible open on my lap, preparing for the day ahead (Please don’t actually peek in my window. That would be freaky).

Why would I tell you that?

Because I want you to know that having a daily, predictable time with Jesus every day is so important to me. It orders my day, grounds me, and makes a difference in the way I respond to others. When I start off my day with Jesus, my anxiousness melts into peace and I can shift my focus away from my self-centeredness to compassion for others. He gently takes my sorrow and replaces it with joy and hope in a way no one else can.

Staying connected does not come easy to me, but it’s a discipline I continually have to work on. Once a week, my phone buzzes and I pull up Jesus Calling (it’s comes in book form or as an app). Side note: One time one of Kate’s friends was playing a game on my phone when my reminder flashed on the screen. With the widest eyes you’ve ever seen she came to me and said, “Miss Sarah, Jesus is calling your phone!” Ha!

Last week I read this:

“Keep walking with Me along the path I have chosen for you. Your desire to live close to Me is a delight to My heart. I could instantly grant you the spiritual riches you desire, but that is not My way for you. Together we will forge a pathway up the high mountain. The journey is arduous at time, and you are weak. Someday you will dance light-footed on the high peaks; but for now, your walk is often plodding and heavy. All I require of you is to take the next step, clinging to My hand for strength and direction.“

 

IMG_9190I was taught early on the importance of dedicating the first minutes of my day to Jesus. I have scores of memories of retreats and youth group outings where we would begin our days spread out in corners and bunks, our Bibles open, our eyes closed, dedicating our days and lives to whatever Jesus had for us. Those seeds were planted deep and I am so grateful. But I mistakenly thought that each day would bring the light-footed moment if I did… an insurance policy to have a great life. I didn’t understand the days that seemed plodding and heavy, so I would think that something was wrong with me. Eventually, I decided that opening my Bible and talking to Jesus every day was overrated. Didn’t He understand how busy the days were with diapers and feeding and disciplining and cleaning up messes? I would be okay to put my daily practice on a shelf, I thought.

Boy was I wrong. Jesus doesn’t want us to spend time with Him just because it’s the “right choice”. He desires time with us to focus and build a relationship with Him. I need Him so desperately in my life. I need wisdom and direction, a way to know that my feet are walking in the right direction. On the good days, the bad days, the in-between days, when I take the time to develop my relationship with Him, I can see how He is working and teaching and changing me.

IMG_9197As I write this blog post, I’m sitting in the library parking lot, waiting on my kids. The library is across from a daycare and I watch the little toddlers toddle back and forth to the playground, putting one chubby foot deliberately in front of the other. Didn’t we all learn to walk the same way? Slowly at first, but determined to get a little better each day? Shouldn’t it be the same for us as we grow in our relationship with Christ?

David writes in Psalm 16:7, “I will praise the Lord, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me.” When the truths of Jesus are on our hearts and in our minds, we begin to see the next right steps as He guides us. Eventually we realize that our chubby little legs are much stronger than we thought… we can indeed walk, even run, for longer distances.

If you’re new on this journey, it’s hard to know where to start. The Bible seems intimidatingly long and ancient. Lots of years into this thing and I still sometimes feel the same way. In fact, writing this post seems so overwhelming to me because I feel I am so far from where I desire in this area. The last thing I want to communicate is I have this figured out. But I also know if I waited to be perfect, well, it would never come.

If you were to peek at me on the couch (but not really, because remember? Freaky), here are my favorite ways to read my Bible:

  • One little chunk at a time– maybe a Psalm, or a chapter in the New Testament. Every morning when I get up and every night before I go to bed, I read the same thing. Over and over, maybe for a week or two. Slowly, I see new things– patterns or truths start to pop out as the words become familiar. I read it out loud, I underline, I think about it throughout the day. And it nestles into my heart and comes alive to me.
  • Read through the whole thing. Yes, the entire Bible… but it takes me a whole year. Right now, Shereadstruth.com has a plan that helps to keep me on track (And oh, there are so many great resources on this website!). The game changer for me was to read it in my own hardcopy of the Bible. I like to read the Bible on my phone (youversion is a great app) for sermons or for looking up a quick verse, but I’ve found I don’t retain as much when I’m just scrolling. When I switched to holding my actual Bible, highlighting verses with a real pen, it changed everything.
  •   The first half of Jen Wilkin’s podcast is so helpful if you have deeper questions about how to read the Bible and why it matters. Her whole study of Joshua is free, and would be a great… But I really resonated with her “nuts and bolts” explanation of how to read the Bible.

Keep walking. It’s not always easy to know what the next right step is, but connecting with Christ daily means that you will have a foundation to stand on, no matter what the day holds.

IMG_9225P.S. There’s more to a relationship with Christ than just reading the Bible. In the next few weeks, let’s tackle some other things together, okay?

P.S.#2 I’m dying at these pictures of when Eliza learned to walk. I have the sweetest kids!

Slowing Summer  0

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Every few minutes I hear a ball thunk against the roof.  Kate got home from camp today and while she and William pretend they didn’t miss each other, their actions show otherwise.  Right now they are constructing a rule-laden game that involves a sky ball being thrown on the roof, to be caught by a certain person after a certain number of bounces.

Eliza bounced out of the house and is playing in the hammock, chatting to herself and probably singing about sin… or grace.  I’m telling you, the theology that comes out in her made up songs cracks me straight up. (One of my favorites: “My sister sinned.  My sister sinned.  But she can ask for forrrrgivenessss”)

The dishes from dinner are still on the table and the kitchen looks like a hot mess.  Until you check the living room and then it suddenly doesn’t look so bad.

We’re on week two of summer around here.  This summer, well, we hit the ground running and it feels like we haven’t had a moment to breathe.  Sure, it’s been fun.  Camping, a trip to the beach, a full freezer of fresh strawberry jam, a week of Vacation Bible School and lots of ice cream and baseball.

 

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As Peter and I collapsed into bed last night reviewing yet another week of jam packed schedules with no end in sight, we decided we just couldn’t do it.  So we cleared our schedules a bit.  Not a lot… but a bit.  And it’s amazing what a little breathing room can do.

The balance of summer is tricky.  I love it when the kids are home for long days, but it exhausts me more than I want to admit.  I miss my quiet afternoons to recharge. The pressure to entertain them with outings and treats sometimes feels overwhelming to me.

If there’s one thing I’m learning about being a good mom it’s that I need a good dose of margin in my days and weeks.

Margin.  It’s the white space around the words on my blog.  It’s the edges of the book you’re reading.  Imagine if the words went all the way to the edge of the screen.  You’d have a hard time training your eyes to jump to the next line.  You’d end up jumbled and frustrated.  Isn’t that the way it is with life?  If I schedule and schedule and let my kids think they’re entitled to be entertained every moment of the summer, we end up with no white space in our lives.  I have overtired and cranky kids, no chance to do something spontaneous and fun, and  a messy house that leaves me feeling frazzled.

Building in margin may mean I say no to a few things in order to say yes to the most essential things.  It means I’m looking at the big picture of our lives instead of letting the little things lead us into existing for today.

“But don’t begin until you count the cost. For who would begin construction of a building without first getting estimates and then checking to see if he has enough money to pay the bills? Otherwise he might complete only the foundation before running out of funds. And then how everyone would laugh!
“‘See that fellow there?’ they would mock. ‘He started that building and ran out of money before it was finished!’ (Luke 14:28-30)

I have eight summers left until William turns eighteen.  Realistically, I realize those last few summers will be spent with friends, in and out, so the number is probably even less than that.

These years are the foundation of our kids’ lives.  I’m reminded now, more than ever, in parenting I have to project out, to imagine the end, as we live out these days.  And it’s hard.  HARD.  But above all, I want to be intentional with my kids and with my time.  I don’t want to fill my time with so many mindless activities that I get to the end of their childhoods and realize that I didn’t count the cost of these years.

So we build in margin.  We fight for blank space in our calendars.  We teach them to be and not always do.  We make mistakes and go to bed too late… but in the morning we get up and try all over again, striving to keep the end in sight.

Cheers to summer!

 

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A Post about Kate.  0

I remember those first weeks of newborn fog and the overwhelming amount of care that my kids needed.  When I thought I couldn’t spend one more night getting up and down, one more day nursing and changing endless diapers, it would happen…. my baby would smile.  A small reward for the past weeks, just when I needed it most.

I’ve noticed the trend as the kids have gotten older.  As the weariness sets in and I’m tempted to think I’m just not cut out for this Motherhood, I adjust my glasses, I look up and around and I see the blessing of these years, of this work.

Easter Sunday, Kate was baptized.  She had casually mentioned it, talked to her dad and to our other Pastor and we started to get ready.  She had a slew of special people that she invited and we were all so excited to add something extra to Easter this year.

We asked Kate who she would like to help baptize her.  She was able to choose someone who has helped her in her life and has made an impact on her.  She chose her brother.

And then.

Then, she had to write her testimony.  I was going to help her because I knew it would be overwhelming for her to do at eight years old.  But then one day, she emerged from her room with a piece of paper with her sweet handwriting on it and I burst into tears.

“My name is Kate Damaska and I am 8 years old.  I was about 4 or 5 when I became a Christian. When I became a Christian I was down in the basement with my mom. I prayed with my mom and she taught me how to invite Jesus into my life.  So now I can show my kids when I am older how to invite Jesus into their lives.  Thank you to all my church leaders, teachers, and parents for teaching me the Lord’s word.  I now want to be a missionary like my mom and dad.  I want to go to Haiti with my mom and build a church that is strong enough to include everyone.”

It was like that newborn baby smile.  Just at the time I wonder if my kids are even listening, if we’re going to make it through these years of elementary/preadolescence (which is awesome, by the way, but also hard), I am reminded that there is hope.   There is blessing and there are gifts and even though Kate was the one who was baptized, I may have had the biggest smile as the tears ran down my face.

Five Dollars on Annie’s Birthday  5

March 9 was Annie’s sixth birthday.

Knowing how to celebrate Annie’s birthday is always such a tricky thing in our family.  Believe me, I have to fight the urge to just ignore the whole thing— because celebrating it takes effort and gearing up and memories that are hard.  Actually, on the day of Annie’s birthday, I talked Peter into letting me clean his church office.  As in spend the whole day going through papers and dusting shelves and trying to keep Eliza from bugging our assistant Pastor all day.  See?  I was avoiding.

But avoiding takes away beauty that’s hiding right behind my brokenness.  Not celebrating what we’ve been handed, however hard it is, makes me bitter and inward.  

There’s something about her birthday that makes it so hard for me.  Maybe because she was never old enough for me to know what her favorites would have been— what she would like for dinner or what her favorite cake would be.  I don’t get to put up the banner and light the candles.  This year she would have been six— SIX!— and I’ve been watching all her little friends have their birthdays in their kindergarten classrooms and for some reason, it just knocks me back.  Six seems so old, so long ago since I looked in her eyes and felt her soft skin.

But we’ve learned a lesson sure and without fail— the best thing to do is to use our pain, to not just let it settle deep and sad, but to instead find a way to be thankful for the ways Jesus allows us help others in our grief.  It takes the sting out of suffering, remember?  

So the kids had the day off on Friday and we loaded up and went to the place we always go… the city where we said goodbye to her in the hospital.  (You’d think we’d hate going there, but no, we love it.  I know it’s weird) We spent the day doing things we have made into traditions without even meaning to— having a treat at the cupcake store, going to the bookstore and picking out a brand new book.  We went out for dinner with our dear friends and spent the night crammed in a hotel room made for two people.  We laughed a lot (and we also disciplined a lot, but let’s just let that memory slip away, shall we? Nevertheless, you should know that there were plenty of “those moments” during the weekend.)

In between the fun and crazy, we planned to do something we’d never done before.  We packed a whole bunch of $5s, $1s and little envelopes.  We stuffed money in the envelopes and wrote on the outside, “Finders keepers!  Have a great day!”  Whenever we felt like leaving an envelope somewhere… we did.  There was no rhyme or reason to it, no expectations on how much we would leave.  We just did it.  And we had a total blast.  Kate left one in a mug with the name “Kate” written on it.  We left several in a little courtyard where university students were constantly walking to and from class.  We’d watch from the car and go crazy when we thought someone was going to kneel down and pick it up.  Seriously, you should do it sometime.  So fun.  We bought a cupcake for the lady next in line at the cupcake shop and we gave $20 to the sweet girl working up a sweat trying to keep the “free breakfast” at our hotel stocked.

All the money that we wish we could have been spending on a little girl turning six, we instead used to brighten the day of several strangers.  Honestly, we could’ve spent that money on a million different things.  We could’ve spent her birthday at home being sad.  It certainly would’ve been easier and probably less dramatic (seriously, our kids can fight at the tiniest thing), but it wouldn’t have been as joyful.

Choosing to redeem our grief into something that will help others will never come back empty.  Jesus uses every single little hurt, every single little thing for His glory.  Even if it’s giving a stranger $5.  Or paying for a Mom’s cupcake (we found out she had just dropped off her daughter on campus).  Or letting someone know that their job is not unnoticed.

Also, it’s a blast.

P.S. We do our best to do something for others every year for Annie’s birthday.  One year we took a package to the nurses who cared so tenderly for her.  Last year we made bracelets for a maternity home in Kenya.  We’ve taken a load of books for kids who have cancer.  If you’re facing a hard day, maybe taking a deep breath and doing something for others is just what you need to get through the day.

A Life Well Lived  0

A week ago, I received a text in the night that my Grandpa had slipped away from this world.  It’s been a bittersweet week saying goodbye… a little bitter, mostly sweet.  He was quite tired of living in a body that had more problems than he could keep up with.  I’d say 89 isn’t too shabby.

My Grandpa only had an 8th Grade education, but the wisdom of what he taught me far exceeded his reading level.

My Grandpa taught me to love my family.  Just a few months ago
Grandpa convinced my Mom and Aunt to drive him up to my house (they
turned a four hour drive into seven). They loaded up a mountain of
oxygen tanks, a breathing machine, and a walker.  He was so excited to
walk into my house and my kids could hardly leave him alone.  All in one
day, he made it to Kate’s soccer game, then drove to William’s football
game.  He cheered his guts out and we beamed that he had made it.  When
we got home that afternoon, we let him rest, the oxygen lines running
like railroad tracks all over the house.

Then the
electricity mysteriously went out.  Seriously.  At first, it was an
adventure, but as the hours went on and the dark started to come, we
began to get a little worried.  It didn’t come back on for the entire
night.  We put Grandpa to bed in William’s room and I set the alarm
every two hours, hoping the oxygen would stretch since we couldn’t
recharge the tanks.  I had to keep a candle lit in the bathroom for his
frequent trips to the bathroom.  I spent the night praying that he
wouldn’t die in William’s bed since his various machines couldn’t be
plugged in.

In the morning, I looked at my Mom and
Aunt– none of us had slept and we were all three exhausted.  But
Grandpa?  He was pretty tired, but still raring to go. Mom had to gently break
it to him that they had to leave early since we’d had to make a serious dent in the extra oxygen.  I
mean, I’m certainly not a nurse, but breathing is kind of important.

It was the last of many, many, many visits from Grandpa and Grandma. When I think of all the places and all the ways they made it a priority to visit us in between our trips home, it makes me feel so loved.

My Grandpa taught me to be generous.  I have a little collection of silver dollars.  They all have a piece of white medical tape on them, with my name and the year written on it.  I remember Grandpa dressing up in a Santa costume that Grandma had made, along with a beard that was made of quilt batting and elastic.  Every Christmas they would come up with some kind of creative way to give us a little envelope with $20 in it and I thought it was the best thing ever.  One year it was taped inside a little plastic horn, and inevitably, they would pretend that one of the in-law’s envelopes was empty and would laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world.  Even this Christmas, when he was so sick, he took joy in handing us those little familiar envelopes.  He loved to give and he taught me the joy in giving to others.


But most importantly, my Grandpa taught me about longing for Jesus.  Just a few days before he died, when we still thought that he might pull through, he looked at my mom and said, “I can just see my welcoming line in heaven.  I can see Jesus waiting for me… and behind Him is Gracie (that was my Grandma) and then Annie.  I just can’t wait to see them.”  His words have echoed in my brain many times since Mom relayed them to me.  When we face death, whether our own or someone we love, we long for heaven and for those we know who have gone before us.  We miss them and rightly so.  Heaven becomes so much more vivid to us when we can picture the faces of those we’ve loved so deeply. But Grandpa had a sacred longing for Jesus, not just for those he had known in life, and that is so profound to me.  When I think of the promise of heaven and all that it holds for me, I don’t want to gloss over what Jesus has done for me by limiting my longing of heaven to just those I have lost here on earth. Someday in heaven, we will be in the fullness of Jesus. Together with our welcoming line, we will sing “He is worthy to receive power and riches and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and blessing!” (Revelation 5:11-12).  We will look to Jesus, our desires for Him fully satisfied, and it will be far beyond our wildest dreams.

I love the legacy that my Grandpa leaves: to love others, to live generously, to long for Jesus.  He may not have thought he was a smart man, but his actions and the way he ordered his life proved otherwise.  I miss him dearly already, but I am so glad to know his deepest desire has come true. He is home.

P.S.  That picture is one of my dearest treasures:  My Grandparents with Annie, just two months before she died.

Blank Slate: New Year  0

I finally got around to opening my 2015 planner this week… halfway into January.

I am sitting in my dining room, drinking a cup of Builders Tea (milk, no sugar).  The sun is beautiful and I hijacked Kate’s disco ball last week because it sends tiny polka dots all over the room.  It makes me so happy.  The Christmas season was full for us, a good full, but taking down the decorations is like a breath of fresh air, a new beginning of sorts.

I’m not necessarily the Resolution Type, especially halfway into January.  But there is something about this season that lends itself to evaluation.  I will admit I’ve been eyeing spiderwebs hanging on the ceiling fans and daring to look under beds.  I even made bran muffins, though I’m not sure they’re healthy when you add a glob of butter on them and eat more than one.

 Sometimes when I look around me and all that needs to be done, I just tend to get overwhelmed and I quit before I start. But in an effort to keep myself sane, I decided that I would add to my planner just a few small goals I feel I can accomplish this year:

1. This year, I will teach my children to wear coats.  I don’t know about you, but my kids are forever arguing with me about what to wear when we leave the house.  They have lived in Michigan for their entire lives, and yet somehow as we leave the house, we have the exact same conversation about what they should be wearing to stay warm.  And they always seem genuinely surprised that I won’t allow spring jackets and shorts when it is January.  As we walk out the door, inevitably 10 minutes late, they ask: “Mom, do I need to wear a coat?” and I answer: “It is winter.  In Michigan.” Often they look at me after this statement with blank stares, like I haven’t really answered their question, which leads me to the next goal…

2.  This year, I will be more specific.  I have finally learned that flippantly telling my children to put away their dirty laundry just doesn’t cut it.  Instead, laundry needs to be put in the basket used for dirty laundry. Not beside the basket, not under the basket, not on the shelf of clean towels located just above the basket… but in the actual basket I have so kindly provided.  I will strive to close the loopholes, however many thousands there are.

3.  This year, I will call a truce. I will make peace with blue lumps of toothpaste that I find dry in the sink morning and night …and with the lone socks that I find under furniture and stuffed in the corners of the closets. I will learn to accept the foam darts and tiny legos, the rainbow loom bands and painting projects.  I will keep demanding that toots are to happen away from the dinner table, but in my heart I will know that it’s a battle I’ll probably never win.  Because these signs of life– the painful, smelly, patience building signs of life– will all too soon be a memory of the past.

Happy New Year, Friends.  May you have the courage to hold this blank slate of a new year in your hand, realize the gravity of what you’ve been given and then spend it wisely.  Keep your expectations low and when all else fails, just buy a disco ball.

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.}