Recently I heard someone in authority say loneliness defines who we are. Because so many of us suffer from it, we must turn to God and each other. He said God gave us himself and others to combat this deep suffering. What a misuse of the purpose of God.
Loneliness is real. It keeps us up at night, draws us to one another, seems to lay like a stone in the deep pit of our hearts. But it is not the reason God gave us himself and each other. To say that would completely disregard the gospel. God gave himself up for us not because we are lonely. He did not give us a husband or wife or close friend so we would not be alone. He did not die on the cross to eradicate deep despair over our isolation. Although, I believe to be away from God is to be lonely, I do not believe it is the reason for His existence. Nor do I believe it is the reason he created other people who love us.
God exists for Himself. He died on the Cross and resurrected from the dead to save us, yes, but He did it not for our comfort, but for his glory. To say He exists to meet the depth of our loneliness would be to say he exists to serve us. He will meet the depth of our loneliness, but it is not His primary purpose.
God created humans for His glory-not our comfort. We are lonely not because we Should have someone to love us, but because we don't seek fellowship with our creator. The nature of our sinful hearts tend toward self sufficiency and so loneliness it a result of that. God is the cure. People are gifts, but not meant to be the missing piece to our fractured hearts. There is only one who can fill the God-sized hole in our hearts. He created us to be dependent on Him.
To preach loneliness as the natural state of our souls is accurate. But we can't stop there. We can't look to one another or even to God to be the bandaid to that loneliness. We must start by rejecting the image of God creating us for us. He did not make Himself and other people to meet our needs. He made Himself for Himself. He made us for Himself. And he made others for Himself. In Genesis God created Adam and then, on the sixth day, Eve-because He didn't think man should be alone. However, to assume that all people are created to meet this need in one another is a distortion. After they were both created, they sinned. That is where the separation from God entered creation. It is there that the loneliness of humanity took hold.
God came first. Then our sin. Then came the loneliness.
When God choses us to know Him and follow Him as disciples, He gives us His Holy Spirit which enables us to turn from our love affair with self. We must reject the notion that all things are for us to use and fill the void. The void is there because without God, we are lonely and no one but He can cure it. And He will cure it when we realize our purpose is to live for, through, and in Him.
"For my grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect in weakness." 2 Corinthians 12:9
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Ch. 275: The Secret Formula
We have quite a group of children on our street, maybe about 17 in all. I'm taking a really broad guess here and I think we all probably live within 300 yards. There's really no secret formula to helping them get along. It's a good mix of boys and girls, ranging in age from 1 to about 12. There is conflict among them every day; from the boys vs. the girls to a boy vs. boy and girl vs. girl. I've seen a couple of bonified fist or yelling fights-they are not pretty. Hurt feelings occur often and there is lots and lots of treat sharing!
On any particular day, we can have all or just a few of them playing and running around. I've never lived in such a place-where there are so many children in such a concentrated space. The yards seem to flow together. But it is their home-for all of them, this space will be the memories they have of childhood. Having the busy street cutting through the "neighborhood" adds definite risk. Maybe they like that.
It's been tough for me to define my place among the other parents. We each have our unique ways of supervising, of course. And because we live close to one another, our attitudes and actions often find crossroads. Most times this brings peaceful results. Occasionally there is conflict and that hasn't been a big deal to date. I'm sensitive to that, conflict. It's been a growth experience to feel unliked and move on.
A few things I've learned are this:
1. I must be the mother God has created me to be. By this, I mean-I feel very strongly about being present and responsible for my children. I correct them and discipline them when I see or hear of a problem between them and the other children. I seek God daily, moment to moment. I am humbled by my sin and his mercy. I also think I should stick up for my children if they are being treated wrongly. If I am the only parent involved, this can be difficult, but necessary. Sometimes, if I correct someone else's child, there is backlash. But, still, I am a Christian parent and I feel I am serving God in my parenting.
2. I am learning to be more judicious in judging the childrens' actions. I no longer assume my children are being 100% impartial when reporting a problem. They are all little sinners. Sweet?-Yes, but sinners. They are self centered and immature. Some of them are angry. But in their conflict we can find resolve if all are willing to honest. (Can I just say-man I appreciate when other parents know this!)
3. Treats will unify any unruly tribe of heathens. Take the crankiest, most competitive, selfish child and give them an ice pop and they are your best friend-at least for an hour.
4. Sometimes we have to learn and move on. Sometimes people will not change and be the person we want or feel we need them to be. We must move on. We can still love them and not have them change. That love may look different than what we had in mind, but we are called to do it and we can.
5. In my flesh, I am no better a parent than any other. I yell at, get impatient with, some times even yank the arm of my children. We are all tired parents; all are sinners. Only with the Holy Spirit of God at work in me can I push through and be forgiven and get back up. I have nothing that makes ME a better parent or person. It is only Christ at work in me.
5. I am a tool to be used by the Lord, right here, right now. I am here by Him and for Him. Sometimes I wish we lived in a big expansive (and expensive) neighborhood. It is not in the plan for us. And I am sent back to a peaceful frame of mind when the chaos quiets and the children scatter. God is working here.
6. Living among and close to so many people; many of whom do not know Jesus, is a great gift for our children-and us! We are challenged daily to seek Him and treat others how He would treat us. We really learn to live out the biblical life. I find that knowing God and who He is-really helps me know who I am. It helps me to make decisions on how to relate to my neighbors and their children. It helps me to move past problems and reach out to others. Feeling close to Christ is how I get peace because I learn how he dealt with people (who were not like him-He never sinned). There will never be a day that I don't sin-I am in no way comparing myself to Christ. But knowing Him and having Him for my role-model is priceless. Thank you, Lord, for your word and Spirit.
This is a big part of my life, this street. I believe it saves me from myself- a lot. I believe God has placed me here in His grace that I may bring glory to Him and not be depressed in my own world of self. Thank you, Lord, for loving me enough to place me where I am uncomfortable and in constant need of your grace. You are a wonderful teacher. I trust, as the weeks go on, that you will show yourself in mighty ways through the people you have surrounded me with. Love!!!!
On any particular day, we can have all or just a few of them playing and running around. I've never lived in such a place-where there are so many children in such a concentrated space. The yards seem to flow together. But it is their home-for all of them, this space will be the memories they have of childhood. Having the busy street cutting through the "neighborhood" adds definite risk. Maybe they like that.
It's been tough for me to define my place among the other parents. We each have our unique ways of supervising, of course. And because we live close to one another, our attitudes and actions often find crossroads. Most times this brings peaceful results. Occasionally there is conflict and that hasn't been a big deal to date. I'm sensitive to that, conflict. It's been a growth experience to feel unliked and move on.
A few things I've learned are this:
1. I must be the mother God has created me to be. By this, I mean-I feel very strongly about being present and responsible for my children. I correct them and discipline them when I see or hear of a problem between them and the other children. I seek God daily, moment to moment. I am humbled by my sin and his mercy. I also think I should stick up for my children if they are being treated wrongly. If I am the only parent involved, this can be difficult, but necessary. Sometimes, if I correct someone else's child, there is backlash. But, still, I am a Christian parent and I feel I am serving God in my parenting.
2. I am learning to be more judicious in judging the childrens' actions. I no longer assume my children are being 100% impartial when reporting a problem. They are all little sinners. Sweet?-Yes, but sinners. They are self centered and immature. Some of them are angry. But in their conflict we can find resolve if all are willing to honest. (Can I just say-man I appreciate when other parents know this!)
3. Treats will unify any unruly tribe of heathens. Take the crankiest, most competitive, selfish child and give them an ice pop and they are your best friend-at least for an hour.
4. Sometimes we have to learn and move on. Sometimes people will not change and be the person we want or feel we need them to be. We must move on. We can still love them and not have them change. That love may look different than what we had in mind, but we are called to do it and we can.
5. In my flesh, I am no better a parent than any other. I yell at, get impatient with, some times even yank the arm of my children. We are all tired parents; all are sinners. Only with the Holy Spirit of God at work in me can I push through and be forgiven and get back up. I have nothing that makes ME a better parent or person. It is only Christ at work in me.
5. I am a tool to be used by the Lord, right here, right now. I am here by Him and for Him. Sometimes I wish we lived in a big expansive (and expensive) neighborhood. It is not in the plan for us. And I am sent back to a peaceful frame of mind when the chaos quiets and the children scatter. God is working here.
6. Living among and close to so many people; many of whom do not know Jesus, is a great gift for our children-and us! We are challenged daily to seek Him and treat others how He would treat us. We really learn to live out the biblical life. I find that knowing God and who He is-really helps me know who I am. It helps me to make decisions on how to relate to my neighbors and their children. It helps me to move past problems and reach out to others. Feeling close to Christ is how I get peace because I learn how he dealt with people (who were not like him-He never sinned). There will never be a day that I don't sin-I am in no way comparing myself to Christ. But knowing Him and having Him for my role-model is priceless. Thank you, Lord, for your word and Spirit.
This is a big part of my life, this street. I believe it saves me from myself- a lot. I believe God has placed me here in His grace that I may bring glory to Him and not be depressed in my own world of self. Thank you, Lord, for loving me enough to place me where I am uncomfortable and in constant need of your grace. You are a wonderful teacher. I trust, as the weeks go on, that you will show yourself in mighty ways through the people you have surrounded me with. Love!!!!
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Things that make me go Hmmmmmmm...
God's strength is made perfect in weakness. Oh, what a refreshing truth! But is the reverse true? If I have a strength, is that where my weakness lies? Is this where God is calling the deepest part of me to submit? The strength brings pride. I feel secure in my experience and abilities. Is this the exact place where Christ will ask me to acknowledge His supremacy? It seems so. Lord, if this is where I must go, to know you are the real strength-take me. Show me my strenghts, that I may learn to rely more on yours'.
We're in the trenches my dear friends!
The following is a short story. Most of the characters depicted are not meant to represent any specific people. They are conglomerates, collages of people and ideas in my mind. Also, this is not a direct analogy of schooling. It is an expression of how I see parenting. Thanks for reading!
Life is a battle, every day. The world is a direct assault on the God-focused life.
Imagine a soldier. I've been entrusted with a most precious treasure. Picture a smokey, chilly battlefield. There are trees and bushes and people, but they aren't decipherable from one another, just darker shadows in the grey atmosphere. A bunker is dug into the ground. A mound of rich brown soil, the only defense against the war. I am crouched low, hands on the stock and trigger of my rifle. Behind me, the precious treasure, sits open to the air, totally vulnerable. It's splendor in dramatic contrast to the mud and tattered leaves of shot-up bushes. Somehow, though, the treasure's beauty sparkles on this dark, smoldering field.
As I scan the perimeter, another soldier, of the same company runs and jumps into my hole. The 2nd soldier is the same age; uniform identical in color and wear. Panting, there are words exchanged. This 2nd soldier panicked; didn't know there were other soldiers so close by. So instead of staying the battle in the bunker, she covered the treasure assigned to her with dirt and ran off in search of help. She didn't know how to use her gun and it was just too heavy. As she was running desperately for any cover, she watched as the enemy violently seized her treasure. "It was so beautiful. I didn't realize..." she moaned between sobs. There really was no comfort I could offer. I felt so sad and I hugged her.
Soon the 2nd soldier made her way onward. Maybe she could make it to headquarters before nightfall. I heard crying as she left.
Stillness, for a moment. Suddenly, I see a glimmer through the haze. It's like a flash, then gone, then flash again. Someone is signaling. She is talking in a code very familiar to me. I smile. Digging into my thigh pocket, I retrieve my mirror and reflect a faint light back in her direction. I know she smiles too.
The battle rages on. Fighting is intense, but I remain in my earthen dugout. Although I was afraid and so, so tired, I could not bare the thought of the enemy stealing my precious treasure. It was my job, my purpose, to guard it. My heart is here. There is no where else I can imagine being.
At a momentary lapse in firefight, a 3rd soldier tumbles into my pit. At first she is completely awestruck at the mere sight of a treasure. "Oh, it's been so long!", she says in a husky whisper. "I haven't protected a treasure in so many years. The general relived me and took my treasure along to headquarters. I have been unsure of my purpose ever since". Almost breathless, she turns to lay and rest. Her uniform slightly resembling my own, but it's newer. Apparently she acquired it at headquarters before she came back to the front.
Exhausted from running all over the battleground in search of a new treasure, her eyes are distant. A new treasure is illusive, possibly nonexistent. Either they are heavily guarded by an assigned soldier or the treasure has been taken to headquarters. Of course, there are the treasures stolen by the Enemy, but they seemed gone, forever lost.
I was glad for the company. We talked when we could. "How can I help?", she inquired. "Not sure", I said. "Got any food?". The sun descended toward the horizon and it's brightness seared our eyes.
Before we knew it, dusk was upon us. It was harder to see the enemy now. The 3rd soldier tried to help guard my treasure. She sat really close to it, almost hugging it and put some dead branches around to conceal it's beauty. She was hoping desperately to provide enough shelter that the enemy would just pass us by. Impossible. The enemy was relentless and craftier than us. After what seemed like a long time, she decided to move on from my pit. Her heart was, again, in search of a precious treasure of her own to protect.
Dusk melted into night. I knew from many nights in the trench that the dark hid much despair and uncertainty. In my own hole, the beauty of the treasure glowed more brightly now. Keen awareness came over me; even more enemy attack was on the move. I was very cold. I hunkered down and reloaded my gun. I hoped for communication from my mirror-friend, but there was none. She too, must be focusing on the night.
Just at what seemed to be my greatest hour of need, a silent 4th soldier slid into my foxhole. She had with her a sack and canteen. "Here", she breathed. As I devoured the amazing food from God knows where, I admired her strength. Not only had she carried food and drink and her own weapon, but she also made it look effortless. As I lifted the canteen to rehydrate, she took up my post and sought out target after target. Her repeated firing excited and unnerved me simultaneously. Her eye for the enemy was well-trained and focused. This soldier come to offer me nourishment during my fight and she fought right along with me!
She stayed with me through the night. Her presence comforted me deeply because I could tell she'd done this all before and succeeded. "What's the trick?", I asked.
"Don't give up. You'll see lots of people doing different things, but remember your purpose. Remember that you have been given a great task and that it will soon be done. So while you are here, in this dingy, dark, often lonely place, take heart. For you will reap great reward for the Kingdom. Oh, and if you try to do this in your own strength, you will fail. You must constantly rely on the strength of our King."
The King. That is who I long for. But for now, I am here and my purpose is to lay down my life for Him. Truly, there is no other battle I'd rather fight. Even though my gun is way too heavy and I'm worn out, I don't want to leave. I want to see my mission through to completion. And when it's done, I want to be like this woman; to support other soldiers in the battle-those who may be losing heart or wearing out. Failure is not a prerequisite. We can have victory.
Before she left, we prayed. The sun was beginning to peak over the distant hills. Pure delight! A new day always brings such a cleansing flood of clean light. The air was slowly warming and I could see there were less enemy soldiers than before. The light always forces them to seek cover, for they hate the light. I decided to peek at my treasure; secure.
Turning back to assess the terrain, I see a large figure running toward me. This soldier is different altogether from the last ones. And I know exactly who's silhouette it is. He is my beloved partner, the only other person in this exhausting battle who's been with me from the start. He is my main support and we are both guarding this treasure behind me.
"How's it going? How are you holding up?" he asks.
"Ok for now. I'm feeling weak, but also encouraged." He squeezes my arm and takes his place beside me. I think the greatest comfort in this whole thing is knowing he and I are in it together. We get to share experiences and learn together. And we both love our treasure so much. We are in it wholeheartedly, shoulder to shoulder. I don't know of a more intimate relationship. Our purposes are unified and as we fight to complete this mission, we have each other to lean on. It is a royal partnership. Male and female, we are very different, yet equally yoked in service to our King.
So, here's were we are. It is a hard battle against a very real and destructive foe. There's no easy out and no right or wrong way to fight. But what really matters is remembering who we are fighting for. There is a King whose holiness and love are matchless. His throne will never be turned over. He's already won. By sacrificing his life, he claimed our souls for eternity. And he asks nothing in return. So we join the fight. We take up our post, lay claim to what is His, and never give up. We trust in Him who sends us and assigns us this mission; the preservation of His priceless treasure.
Thanks for reading my little story. Recently I've been reminded of how vital it is that we remain in the battle for our children. They are the most precious gifts and ultimately belong to our heavenly Father. He has entrusted them to us and I am so grateful. Please comment if you like!
~Love, Mariellen
Life is a battle, every day. The world is a direct assault on the God-focused life.
Imagine a soldier. I've been entrusted with a most precious treasure. Picture a smokey, chilly battlefield. There are trees and bushes and people, but they aren't decipherable from one another, just darker shadows in the grey atmosphere. A bunker is dug into the ground. A mound of rich brown soil, the only defense against the war. I am crouched low, hands on the stock and trigger of my rifle. Behind me, the precious treasure, sits open to the air, totally vulnerable. It's splendor in dramatic contrast to the mud and tattered leaves of shot-up bushes. Somehow, though, the treasure's beauty sparkles on this dark, smoldering field.
As I scan the perimeter, another soldier, of the same company runs and jumps into my hole. The 2nd soldier is the same age; uniform identical in color and wear. Panting, there are words exchanged. This 2nd soldier panicked; didn't know there were other soldiers so close by. So instead of staying the battle in the bunker, she covered the treasure assigned to her with dirt and ran off in search of help. She didn't know how to use her gun and it was just too heavy. As she was running desperately for any cover, she watched as the enemy violently seized her treasure. "It was so beautiful. I didn't realize..." she moaned between sobs. There really was no comfort I could offer. I felt so sad and I hugged her.
Soon the 2nd soldier made her way onward. Maybe she could make it to headquarters before nightfall. I heard crying as she left.
Stillness, for a moment. Suddenly, I see a glimmer through the haze. It's like a flash, then gone, then flash again. Someone is signaling. She is talking in a code very familiar to me. I smile. Digging into my thigh pocket, I retrieve my mirror and reflect a faint light back in her direction. I know she smiles too.
The battle rages on. Fighting is intense, but I remain in my earthen dugout. Although I was afraid and so, so tired, I could not bare the thought of the enemy stealing my precious treasure. It was my job, my purpose, to guard it. My heart is here. There is no where else I can imagine being.
At a momentary lapse in firefight, a 3rd soldier tumbles into my pit. At first she is completely awestruck at the mere sight of a treasure. "Oh, it's been so long!", she says in a husky whisper. "I haven't protected a treasure in so many years. The general relived me and took my treasure along to headquarters. I have been unsure of my purpose ever since". Almost breathless, she turns to lay and rest. Her uniform slightly resembling my own, but it's newer. Apparently she acquired it at headquarters before she came back to the front.
Exhausted from running all over the battleground in search of a new treasure, her eyes are distant. A new treasure is illusive, possibly nonexistent. Either they are heavily guarded by an assigned soldier or the treasure has been taken to headquarters. Of course, there are the treasures stolen by the Enemy, but they seemed gone, forever lost.
I was glad for the company. We talked when we could. "How can I help?", she inquired. "Not sure", I said. "Got any food?". The sun descended toward the horizon and it's brightness seared our eyes.
Before we knew it, dusk was upon us. It was harder to see the enemy now. The 3rd soldier tried to help guard my treasure. She sat really close to it, almost hugging it and put some dead branches around to conceal it's beauty. She was hoping desperately to provide enough shelter that the enemy would just pass us by. Impossible. The enemy was relentless and craftier than us. After what seemed like a long time, she decided to move on from my pit. Her heart was, again, in search of a precious treasure of her own to protect.
Dusk melted into night. I knew from many nights in the trench that the dark hid much despair and uncertainty. In my own hole, the beauty of the treasure glowed more brightly now. Keen awareness came over me; even more enemy attack was on the move. I was very cold. I hunkered down and reloaded my gun. I hoped for communication from my mirror-friend, but there was none. She too, must be focusing on the night.
Just at what seemed to be my greatest hour of need, a silent 4th soldier slid into my foxhole. She had with her a sack and canteen. "Here", she breathed. As I devoured the amazing food from God knows where, I admired her strength. Not only had she carried food and drink and her own weapon, but she also made it look effortless. As I lifted the canteen to rehydrate, she took up my post and sought out target after target. Her repeated firing excited and unnerved me simultaneously. Her eye for the enemy was well-trained and focused. This soldier come to offer me nourishment during my fight and she fought right along with me!
She stayed with me through the night. Her presence comforted me deeply because I could tell she'd done this all before and succeeded. "What's the trick?", I asked.
"Don't give up. You'll see lots of people doing different things, but remember your purpose. Remember that you have been given a great task and that it will soon be done. So while you are here, in this dingy, dark, often lonely place, take heart. For you will reap great reward for the Kingdom. Oh, and if you try to do this in your own strength, you will fail. You must constantly rely on the strength of our King."
The King. That is who I long for. But for now, I am here and my purpose is to lay down my life for Him. Truly, there is no other battle I'd rather fight. Even though my gun is way too heavy and I'm worn out, I don't want to leave. I want to see my mission through to completion. And when it's done, I want to be like this woman; to support other soldiers in the battle-those who may be losing heart or wearing out. Failure is not a prerequisite. We can have victory.
Before she left, we prayed. The sun was beginning to peak over the distant hills. Pure delight! A new day always brings such a cleansing flood of clean light. The air was slowly warming and I could see there were less enemy soldiers than before. The light always forces them to seek cover, for they hate the light. I decided to peek at my treasure; secure.
Turning back to assess the terrain, I see a large figure running toward me. This soldier is different altogether from the last ones. And I know exactly who's silhouette it is. He is my beloved partner, the only other person in this exhausting battle who's been with me from the start. He is my main support and we are both guarding this treasure behind me.
"How's it going? How are you holding up?" he asks.
"Ok for now. I'm feeling weak, but also encouraged." He squeezes my arm and takes his place beside me. I think the greatest comfort in this whole thing is knowing he and I are in it together. We get to share experiences and learn together. And we both love our treasure so much. We are in it wholeheartedly, shoulder to shoulder. I don't know of a more intimate relationship. Our purposes are unified and as we fight to complete this mission, we have each other to lean on. It is a royal partnership. Male and female, we are very different, yet equally yoked in service to our King.
So, here's were we are. It is a hard battle against a very real and destructive foe. There's no easy out and no right or wrong way to fight. But what really matters is remembering who we are fighting for. There is a King whose holiness and love are matchless. His throne will never be turned over. He's already won. By sacrificing his life, he claimed our souls for eternity. And he asks nothing in return. So we join the fight. We take up our post, lay claim to what is His, and never give up. We trust in Him who sends us and assigns us this mission; the preservation of His priceless treasure.
Thanks for reading my little story. Recently I've been reminded of how vital it is that we remain in the battle for our children. They are the most precious gifts and ultimately belong to our heavenly Father. He has entrusted them to us and I am so grateful. Please comment if you like!
~Love, Mariellen
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Trusting in Medicine
There really are few doctors who are worthy of deep trust. Most of them are just like you and me. Well, all of them are to a degree. We're all sinners in desperate need of Christ. Sometimes, though, there will be a person who comes along who has a really unique mix of experience and humility; decisive execution and calm approach; deep care. One that makes you think, "I can trust this person with the lives of my children".
I've met a lot of doctors.
I've met arrogant ones-who new science and the body really well. But would they ever own up to making an error?-no way. And maybe they really think they've never made a mistake. Maybe they've contrived a defense against the harsh realities of nature-that all that goes wrong is not due to their incompetence. They are unforgiving and authoritative.
I've met friendly doctors who don't pretend to know everything; a bit wishy/washy. They have a hard time making decisions and often let you decide the course. At first, they are comforting in their genuineness. They really care about the patients and want what is best. Problem is, they don't know what is best. They seem scared of doing the wrong thing and don't want to be the one to hurt someone. Unfortunately the nature of being a physician is that you are willing to make a decision and guide those who seek your expertise. It takes courage.
Then there are the ones who appear very confident and able, but make wrong diagnoses. They hold onto their decisions when questioned-not out of true knowledge, but out of the fear of not knowing. Maybe they are needy for their own group of trusting patients. Maybe they haven't learned the delicate dance of humility and answers. These are the ones that frustrate me the most. I get a clear answer-out of left field mind you, but very direct. I get treatment and explanations, but it's a superficial confidence. No humility, no openness.
The doctor I trust is one who proves him or herself over and over. The decisions seem strange, but work. The assessment can seem a little distant, but caring; not overly personal, but not cold. They know about little rashes AND cancer. And they are willing to sway a little to the left or right depending on your level of understanding and comfort. These doctors respect a sixth sense. They understand it's not all up to them, but yet they have a huge responsibility. And if I'm really, really fortunate, they even pray.
I'm grateful for our top notch medical system. I'm so glad I'm not raising our kids in a 3rd world nation where every illness could very well be fatal without a drive-or flight-many hours to a semi-progressive hospital. But even with our ahead-of-the-times procedures and equipment, people still get sick and die.
I've been writing this post over the last week. I had a run-in that left a bad taste in my mouth. But after this Sunday's sermon I realized something. There were a few blessings that came with the misdiagnosed childhood illness. Yes, the course of treatment was drastically different, but there were blessings even in the mistake. God is there in the mistakes. I'm glad I had a little grace in the situation. But I think I was hard on the Doctor who made the error-not to her face, but in my heart. I felt superior. But I'm not. I have no gift there and neither did she. It comes down to pride for both of us.
"...In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength..." Isaiah 30:15
I'll be repeating this verse for a while.
I've met a lot of doctors.
I've met arrogant ones-who new science and the body really well. But would they ever own up to making an error?-no way. And maybe they really think they've never made a mistake. Maybe they've contrived a defense against the harsh realities of nature-that all that goes wrong is not due to their incompetence. They are unforgiving and authoritative.
I've met friendly doctors who don't pretend to know everything; a bit wishy/washy. They have a hard time making decisions and often let you decide the course. At first, they are comforting in their genuineness. They really care about the patients and want what is best. Problem is, they don't know what is best. They seem scared of doing the wrong thing and don't want to be the one to hurt someone. Unfortunately the nature of being a physician is that you are willing to make a decision and guide those who seek your expertise. It takes courage.
Then there are the ones who appear very confident and able, but make wrong diagnoses. They hold onto their decisions when questioned-not out of true knowledge, but out of the fear of not knowing. Maybe they are needy for their own group of trusting patients. Maybe they haven't learned the delicate dance of humility and answers. These are the ones that frustrate me the most. I get a clear answer-out of left field mind you, but very direct. I get treatment and explanations, but it's a superficial confidence. No humility, no openness.
The doctor I trust is one who proves him or herself over and over. The decisions seem strange, but work. The assessment can seem a little distant, but caring; not overly personal, but not cold. They know about little rashes AND cancer. And they are willing to sway a little to the left or right depending on your level of understanding and comfort. These doctors respect a sixth sense. They understand it's not all up to them, but yet they have a huge responsibility. And if I'm really, really fortunate, they even pray.
I'm grateful for our top notch medical system. I'm so glad I'm not raising our kids in a 3rd world nation where every illness could very well be fatal without a drive-or flight-many hours to a semi-progressive hospital. But even with our ahead-of-the-times procedures and equipment, people still get sick and die.
I've been writing this post over the last week. I had a run-in that left a bad taste in my mouth. But after this Sunday's sermon I realized something. There were a few blessings that came with the misdiagnosed childhood illness. Yes, the course of treatment was drastically different, but there were blessings even in the mistake. God is there in the mistakes. I'm glad I had a little grace in the situation. But I think I was hard on the Doctor who made the error-not to her face, but in my heart. I felt superior. But I'm not. I have no gift there and neither did she. It comes down to pride for both of us.
"...In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength..." Isaiah 30:15
I'll be repeating this verse for a while.
To Live...
4 boys under 9. A hormonally imbalanced mother. Winters stuck in the house. Not enough sleep. So, why are we homeschooling? Good, no, GREAT question!
We made our decision, Dave and me. We're doing it. Simon will be pulled from Octorara where he'd be entering the 3rd grade. Emory will never sit at a desk for Dr. Evans. No Halloween parades or Valentine parties and sacks of candy. No more bus stop mini-meetings with my mommy friends on the block. Yes, some very hard things for us to say goodbye to.
Stretched out before us is a new venture. I am looking at a horizon that will be almost entirely new. I'm scared. I'm apprehensive. I'm excited! This change for our family is big and it will be really hard. I think the hardest thing will be my self-discipline. Mostly the part where I want to yell and be mad and say things I will regret. That is the part I am afraid of. Can God make me different? Can his word transform me again? ...Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.
I love God's word. It's all there. Every time I seek wisdom and comfort I find it. I may not FEEL it right away, but it comes. God IS faithful. So, why would he fail to be that this time?
I was talking to Bonnie, my sister-in-law, the other day and I told her how I like a challenge. I like to see if I can do it. Some things that come to mind as the biggest challenges I've faced are working in the ICU and giving birth at the birth center. In the ICU, where I worked for 1 year, I met God. He made Himself real to me. It was the scariest place I've ever worked and he was there. And at the birth center, where Matthew was born, I had no choice. I had to make it through labor and not lose it. There was no way out and I knew it going in. And I did it-no freakout. By God's grace, he allowed me to do it.
Will it be the same with homeschooling? I know I can't do it without Him. He's already given me a husband who fully supports the endeavor-new in the past few months. He's given me a full-day K program where I don't want my boys-and Emory can now read and write. God is proving Himself capable of this. Lord, help me let you. Make my heart teachable and changeable. Mold me into your image.
To live is Christ. All I have is yours. It's all I can give. And everything that is attached to me-my worries, my fears, my loves, my frustrations, my fatigue, my messes, my failures. Here you go, Lord. I lay it at the foot of the cross, where you died to save me from eternal suffering because you love me.
You were there to catch me in the ICU. You held me in your palm as I felt the power of your wrath through childbirth. And you didn't let me go. The fear of messing up my kids because I'm not ready to give our family away, it's yours. The fear of going mad with little boys all over me-yours. The JOY of watching them learn about your creation and enjoy it-yours too. And the deepening friendships among them and with me-all for you. Thank you, Lord. Here we go!
We made our decision, Dave and me. We're doing it. Simon will be pulled from Octorara where he'd be entering the 3rd grade. Emory will never sit at a desk for Dr. Evans. No Halloween parades or Valentine parties and sacks of candy. No more bus stop mini-meetings with my mommy friends on the block. Yes, some very hard things for us to say goodbye to.
Stretched out before us is a new venture. I am looking at a horizon that will be almost entirely new. I'm scared. I'm apprehensive. I'm excited! This change for our family is big and it will be really hard. I think the hardest thing will be my self-discipline. Mostly the part where I want to yell and be mad and say things I will regret. That is the part I am afraid of. Can God make me different? Can his word transform me again? ...Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.
I love God's word. It's all there. Every time I seek wisdom and comfort I find it. I may not FEEL it right away, but it comes. God IS faithful. So, why would he fail to be that this time?
I was talking to Bonnie, my sister-in-law, the other day and I told her how I like a challenge. I like to see if I can do it. Some things that come to mind as the biggest challenges I've faced are working in the ICU and giving birth at the birth center. In the ICU, where I worked for 1 year, I met God. He made Himself real to me. It was the scariest place I've ever worked and he was there. And at the birth center, where Matthew was born, I had no choice. I had to make it through labor and not lose it. There was no way out and I knew it going in. And I did it-no freakout. By God's grace, he allowed me to do it.
Will it be the same with homeschooling? I know I can't do it without Him. He's already given me a husband who fully supports the endeavor-new in the past few months. He's given me a full-day K program where I don't want my boys-and Emory can now read and write. God is proving Himself capable of this. Lord, help me let you. Make my heart teachable and changeable. Mold me into your image.
To live is Christ. All I have is yours. It's all I can give. And everything that is attached to me-my worries, my fears, my loves, my frustrations, my fatigue, my messes, my failures. Here you go, Lord. I lay it at the foot of the cross, where you died to save me from eternal suffering because you love me.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Ch. 143 Playing Dumb
From birth, Simon who is now 8, has been quite intelligent. Very verbal from a young age, imaginative beyond boundaries, easily relational to all sorts of people, quick to memorize and very passionate about topics of interest. With this little mind has come many, many challenges. A very obstinate attitude, we are no strangers to. It just morphs as he gets older.
In recent weeks, when we catch him doing something wrong, he plays dumb. It goes like this:
"Simon, you know you are not allowed to..." And before we can even explain what he did wrong we get- "What?! I don't even know what you're talking about!" Or, my personal, least, favorite- "What did I do?!!".
Usually these responses take the form of screaming. Often they are demanding, not really questions at all. And explaining to him how this is actually defiant is a whole other party. But here's where I don't let him go. I know he's smart. I know he knows what is going on. So I pin him down.
This morning I stayed very calm and we started from the beginning. I asked him if he knew it was wrong to get in Matthew's Pack-n-play. A shaking "yes" head. Ok, when I told you not to do it, why did you act like you had no idea what you did wrong? Puzzled look. Why did you act like getting in the pack-n-play was ok? Did you know it was wrong? Yes. Ok, here's where I have a problem, Son. After I told you to get out and you had to sit on the bench, you acted like you didn't know it was wrong. Puzzled look.
I kept saying the same thing over again until he finally relented and acknowledged that he in fact DID know-verbally saying yes- getting in the pack-n-play was wrong. I pointed out that he acted like he didn't know what he did wrong.
I told him this was called playing dumb-and it was a lie. I told him I know he is smart and he knows what is right and wrong. I asked him if he knew what I meant. Yes. Yes-I saw it in his eyes. We were on a level field now. I explained his discipline-30 min in his bed after homework today-for playing dumb.
Confusion is the diversion. He is a smart, thoughtful, and at times, very manipulative boy. And as I observe other boys his age, they think they have us fooled. There's no time for this sort of conversation between teachers and our children. Recess aids and lunchroom attendants don't have the patience or personal knowledge of our children to call them on this. Neighbors are tired and afraid to confront other people's kids.
I'm so glad that I know my children. I'm so glad I know their hearts. Where would they be if they were allowed to drift, to start believing their own lies and excuses? Someday, I will not be that person. Someday it will be between them and their King. But I will never relinquish them to their sin. Lord, help me to never believe the lies they try to tell themselves or others. And, Lord, I pray you will be the King of their hearts and you will refuse to relinquish them too.
In recent weeks, when we catch him doing something wrong, he plays dumb. It goes like this:
"Simon, you know you are not allowed to..." And before we can even explain what he did wrong we get- "What?! I don't even know what you're talking about!" Or, my personal, least, favorite- "What did I do?!!".
Usually these responses take the form of screaming. Often they are demanding, not really questions at all. And explaining to him how this is actually defiant is a whole other party. But here's where I don't let him go. I know he's smart. I know he knows what is going on. So I pin him down.
This morning I stayed very calm and we started from the beginning. I asked him if he knew it was wrong to get in Matthew's Pack-n-play. A shaking "yes" head. Ok, when I told you not to do it, why did you act like you had no idea what you did wrong? Puzzled look. Why did you act like getting in the pack-n-play was ok? Did you know it was wrong? Yes. Ok, here's where I have a problem, Son. After I told you to get out and you had to sit on the bench, you acted like you didn't know it was wrong. Puzzled look.
I kept saying the same thing over again until he finally relented and acknowledged that he in fact DID know-verbally saying yes- getting in the pack-n-play was wrong. I pointed out that he acted like he didn't know what he did wrong.
I told him this was called playing dumb-and it was a lie. I told him I know he is smart and he knows what is right and wrong. I asked him if he knew what I meant. Yes. Yes-I saw it in his eyes. We were on a level field now. I explained his discipline-30 min in his bed after homework today-for playing dumb.
Confusion is the diversion. He is a smart, thoughtful, and at times, very manipulative boy. And as I observe other boys his age, they think they have us fooled. There's no time for this sort of conversation between teachers and our children. Recess aids and lunchroom attendants don't have the patience or personal knowledge of our children to call them on this. Neighbors are tired and afraid to confront other people's kids.
I'm so glad that I know my children. I'm so glad I know their hearts. Where would they be if they were allowed to drift, to start believing their own lies and excuses? Someday, I will not be that person. Someday it will be between them and their King. But I will never relinquish them to their sin. Lord, help me to never believe the lies they try to tell themselves or others. And, Lord, I pray you will be the King of their hearts and you will refuse to relinquish them too.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
A most precious sound
Our little 16 month old, Matthew, was once again on the table. This time it was because a chair had been left untucked and there were some legos to be had. No matter how much we say no or spank, he loves to stand on the table. Recently, though, we find him scooting back into the chair when we tell him to.
David has a way of getting quite annoyed when Matthew goes on the table to get his legos. And this morning, while I was busy in the kitchen, Matthew was pushed off. It started with a yell of, " No! Stop!" Then thud, cry. "I tried to catch him, mom", from Emory. The precious sound was to come later...
Matthew had a red oval on his forehead and he went directly to bed for a nap. It was time anyway.
When I came down, David was sitting on the bench, as I had instructed. The bench is our discipline spot-makes the perfect time-out seat and paddling area. It is removed from the rest of the house and usually clear from debris. I told David he was to have a paddle for what he did. We then talked about it. I went and got the paddle.
When I returned I watched him as he saw the paddle in my hand. "I'm sorry, Mommy". "I know you are, sweetie. You need a paddle now". I paddled him twice-just the right hurt for his little hiney. He doesn't need a hard paddle. Just seeing it really is probably enough. I hugged him and he hugged me. I told him I love him and I don't like to paddle, but I had to so he could remember not to push his baby brother off the table, or chair for that matter. David was sad, he said it didn't hurt and held back tears, which is his normal reaction. So tough. 4 this coming Friday.
About 10 minutes later I see the little boy in the corner of the kitchen. He asks for something and I answer. He then says, "Mommy, are you still mad at me?" "No, honey. I forgive you". A visible wave of peace washes over his face.
Did I mention I love being a mommy? What better place to hear the voice of Christ. So precious.
David has a way of getting quite annoyed when Matthew goes on the table to get his legos. And this morning, while I was busy in the kitchen, Matthew was pushed off. It started with a yell of, " No! Stop!" Then thud, cry. "I tried to catch him, mom", from Emory. The precious sound was to come later...
Matthew had a red oval on his forehead and he went directly to bed for a nap. It was time anyway.
When I came down, David was sitting on the bench, as I had instructed. The bench is our discipline spot-makes the perfect time-out seat and paddling area. It is removed from the rest of the house and usually clear from debris. I told David he was to have a paddle for what he did. We then talked about it. I went and got the paddle.
When I returned I watched him as he saw the paddle in my hand. "I'm sorry, Mommy". "I know you are, sweetie. You need a paddle now". I paddled him twice-just the right hurt for his little hiney. He doesn't need a hard paddle. Just seeing it really is probably enough. I hugged him and he hugged me. I told him I love him and I don't like to paddle, but I had to so he could remember not to push his baby brother off the table, or chair for that matter. David was sad, he said it didn't hurt and held back tears, which is his normal reaction. So tough. 4 this coming Friday.
About 10 minutes later I see the little boy in the corner of the kitchen. He asks for something and I answer. He then says, "Mommy, are you still mad at me?" "No, honey. I forgive you". A visible wave of peace washes over his face.
Did I mention I love being a mommy? What better place to hear the voice of Christ. So precious.
Friday, April 5, 2013
This Little Light
What inspires me? What gets me passionate? I don't mean horses, difficult hikes with a great view or the reemergence of Spring. What things stir an energy for change?
Right now it is this: http://www.freedom.firm.in/
And this: http://www.songlyrics.com/andrew-peterson/light-for-the-lost-boy/
And this: http://www.chaponline.com/
Ok I'll take break from c/v. It's a new trick for me :-).
Oh, and one more: http://www.glutenfreegoddess.blogspot.com/
Sorry-this is somewhat of a journal that I can look back over and see that I was in fact inspired.
Last night I found myself in a place of deep un-inspiration. My light was fading. Why am I a mother? Why do I get up and do it all over again? It's not pretty. It's not clean. It's never done or complete. But, there are those things that come along and make my little light shine brighter. People too-I have a list of them.
Here's another thing that really ignites my flame- "Mommy where's my knife?"-and I know. Then 30 seconds later, "Where's my sheath?" And I know. Except he says it more like "Where's my sheaf". He's not even 4, after all.
Even though the work is never done-oftentimes not even started, I really like being a mother. I like being with my kids. I like knowing what they know and watching them learn what I know. I like-no love-having four little boys who are not men yet. Who are excitable and silly and skinny. They fight and cry and run, run, run. They want to be held and eat way too much sugar.
Jesus found my heart and is changing it into His-and He loves little children. Lord, give me eyes to see what you see and to learn what you know. Help me, Father, to get up again and again, to never be finished and yet be inspired.
Right now it is this: http://www.freedom.firm.in/
And this: http://www.songlyrics.com/andrew-peterson/light-for-the-lost-boy/
And this: http://www.chaponline.com/
Ok I'll take break from c/v. It's a new trick for me :-).
Oh, and one more: http://www.glutenfreegoddess.blogspot.com/
Sorry-this is somewhat of a journal that I can look back over and see that I was in fact inspired.
Last night I found myself in a place of deep un-inspiration. My light was fading. Why am I a mother? Why do I get up and do it all over again? It's not pretty. It's not clean. It's never done or complete. But, there are those things that come along and make my little light shine brighter. People too-I have a list of them.
Here's another thing that really ignites my flame- "Mommy where's my knife?"-and I know. Then 30 seconds later, "Where's my sheath?" And I know. Except he says it more like "Where's my sheaf". He's not even 4, after all.
Even though the work is never done-oftentimes not even started, I really like being a mother. I like being with my kids. I like knowing what they know and watching them learn what I know. I like-no love-having four little boys who are not men yet. Who are excitable and silly and skinny. They fight and cry and run, run, run. They want to be held and eat way too much sugar.
Jesus found my heart and is changing it into His-and He loves little children. Lord, give me eyes to see what you see and to learn what you know. Help me, Father, to get up again and again, to never be finished and yet be inspired.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Rotavirus is Temporary
One of the hardest thing in a Mother's day to day is having sick little ones. I'm not referring to cancer or serious diseases, I'm talking about the normal bugs of childhood. Although, at any given moment these bugs seem that they have the capability to kill a child.
Recently we have had the exhaustive experience of bronchitis-Simon. And then we have Rotavirus. Both scary. As my mothering experience widens I have realized there is no reason to panic. Things subside, kids heal, eat again. But there are always those moments when the fear gets the better of me. Not long lasting, but fear-dark and numb.
David is our bird. Eats little, is little. He's in the 5th percentile. He scares me the most when he is sick. Looks like a little Haulocost victim. 30lbs and almost 4 (next week).
Yesterday after writing the above stuff David seemed sicker. He's better this am. Note to self-PEDIALYTE!!!!!!!!!!!!! No water-no soy milk-no juice. If they won't drink-ok-just push the pedialyte untill they will. Use a syringe to give 5cc at a time until they will drink on their own. If they won't eat-ok. But don't offer anything other than pedialyte until you KNOW they are better.
Mom and Dad stopped over yesterday and brought a bunch of stuff-more pedialyte, milk, dinner, chicken-which I better put in the freezer, paper towels, laundry soap, pasta. So helpful. And I'm snapping a lot at Dave. I think having our kids be sick is such a test of faith and endurance. I fail at both. But at these times-I'm so thankful to have God. To know he loves my kids-and lets them get sick. I'm so thankful for the nurses at the Dr.'s office-Eileen- who care and call me back, who are smart and mature and get me squeezed in to see the doc. I'm thankful for Pedialyte. I'm thankful for Emory-who is joyful and home and loving. I'm thankful for Dave who is supportive and sympathetic and hardworking. I'm grateful for the many, many days that the children are healthy and loud and running everywhere.
Oh, Lord, please help me to remember how it feels to have a sick child! Please help me to know that when they are well-we are in plenty! Don't let go of me-help me to remember how precious they are when they are well. Help me not to care about the dishes and toys and dirty floor. Give me the supernatural power to care for them and trust your hand in this illness. Help me to be perseverant as they need a loving mommy!
I need you, Lord Jesus. Without your holy Spirit and strength, I can not be what I should.
Recently we have had the exhaustive experience of bronchitis-Simon. And then we have Rotavirus. Both scary. As my mothering experience widens I have realized there is no reason to panic. Things subside, kids heal, eat again. But there are always those moments when the fear gets the better of me. Not long lasting, but fear-dark and numb.
David is our bird. Eats little, is little. He's in the 5th percentile. He scares me the most when he is sick. Looks like a little Haulocost victim. 30lbs and almost 4 (next week).
Yesterday after writing the above stuff David seemed sicker. He's better this am. Note to self-PEDIALYTE!!!!!!!!!!!!! No water-no soy milk-no juice. If they won't drink-ok-just push the pedialyte untill they will. Use a syringe to give 5cc at a time until they will drink on their own. If they won't eat-ok. But don't offer anything other than pedialyte until you KNOW they are better.
Mom and Dad stopped over yesterday and brought a bunch of stuff-more pedialyte, milk, dinner, chicken-which I better put in the freezer, paper towels, laundry soap, pasta. So helpful. And I'm snapping a lot at Dave. I think having our kids be sick is such a test of faith and endurance. I fail at both. But at these times-I'm so thankful to have God. To know he loves my kids-and lets them get sick. I'm so thankful for the nurses at the Dr.'s office-Eileen- who care and call me back, who are smart and mature and get me squeezed in to see the doc. I'm thankful for Pedialyte. I'm thankful for Emory-who is joyful and home and loving. I'm thankful for Dave who is supportive and sympathetic and hardworking. I'm grateful for the many, many days that the children are healthy and loud and running everywhere.
Oh, Lord, please help me to remember how it feels to have a sick child! Please help me to know that when they are well-we are in plenty! Don't let go of me-help me to remember how precious they are when they are well. Help me not to care about the dishes and toys and dirty floor. Give me the supernatural power to care for them and trust your hand in this illness. Help me to be perseverant as they need a loving mommy!
I need you, Lord Jesus. Without your holy Spirit and strength, I can not be what I should.
Monday, March 25, 2013
To homeschool?
Here I am again. The undecided mother. I think God wants me to homeschool. But knowing how hard it will be and how I often struggle with depression-would it be best for our family? Would it be best for me? Would it really be best for the boys?
I keep going over the pros and cons list in my head. Trying to talk about it with anyone feels like a maelstrom of thought. So many many pros. But can I do it? Will God come through when I can't? Will he really keep me from hurting the kids when I am down and out? It's hard to put this into type-knowing the thoughts and words won't disappear the minute their thought. I often admire people who can be so frank in their blogs.
Well, maybe I'll just type out my pros and cons then. Maybe that will help me sort it out.
Homeschooling Pros
1. A natural rhythm to the time we spend learning/playing. No set 8 hr schedule concocted by a governing body with the mass in mind first.
2. Allowing my children to learn what they have passions for and dive into them without restraint.
3. Knowing what my kids are learning. Both from a Christian standpoint and a practical standpoint. If they are struggling, I'll know where and can help them or find help.
4. Open schedule for our family.
5. Joy in seeing the light bulbs go on and bonding with the boys in our teaching.
6. Kids not burnt out from long days and homework.
7. Involvment in a co-op where kids can make friends/support for me.
8. Training for the kids in our home with each other-forming deeper bonds and choosing our life
experiences.
9. Less unwanted peer influence.
Public School Pros
1. More personal time for me.
2. Someone else does the work and teaches when my child is difficult.
3. Social group and friendships form-children feel part of a group.
4. Our tax dollars at work
5. Encouragement and insight from teachers (which is limited due to large class size, but helpful).
6. Training for kids in a public setting for future challenges and allowing some autonomy away from me for the day. Ex: Learning to get along and love people from ALL walks.
Well, this is what I have so far. I don't think the longer list wins or anything. These are just the thought swirling around in my brain. I'm sure I'll add to the lists. Maybe I should do the cons next.
Now I will pray. I'm grateful that Dave will join me in this. Lord, please offer me wisdom on this subject. Help me to be courageous no matter which thing we choose. Help me to love you first and with all I am.
I keep going over the pros and cons list in my head. Trying to talk about it with anyone feels like a maelstrom of thought. So many many pros. But can I do it? Will God come through when I can't? Will he really keep me from hurting the kids when I am down and out? It's hard to put this into type-knowing the thoughts and words won't disappear the minute their thought. I often admire people who can be so frank in their blogs.
Well, maybe I'll just type out my pros and cons then. Maybe that will help me sort it out.
Homeschooling Pros
1. A natural rhythm to the time we spend learning/playing. No set 8 hr schedule concocted by a governing body with the mass in mind first.
2. Allowing my children to learn what they have passions for and dive into them without restraint.
3. Knowing what my kids are learning. Both from a Christian standpoint and a practical standpoint. If they are struggling, I'll know where and can help them or find help.
4. Open schedule for our family.
5. Joy in seeing the light bulbs go on and bonding with the boys in our teaching.
6. Kids not burnt out from long days and homework.
7. Involvment in a co-op where kids can make friends/support for me.
8. Training for the kids in our home with each other-forming deeper bonds and choosing our life
experiences.
9. Less unwanted peer influence.
Public School Pros
1. More personal time for me.
2. Someone else does the work and teaches when my child is difficult.
3. Social group and friendships form-children feel part of a group.
4. Our tax dollars at work
5. Encouragement and insight from teachers (which is limited due to large class size, but helpful).
6. Training for kids in a public setting for future challenges and allowing some autonomy away from me for the day. Ex: Learning to get along and love people from ALL walks.
Well, this is what I have so far. I don't think the longer list wins or anything. These are just the thought swirling around in my brain. I'm sure I'll add to the lists. Maybe I should do the cons next.
Now I will pray. I'm grateful that Dave will join me in this. Lord, please offer me wisdom on this subject. Help me to be courageous no matter which thing we choose. Help me to love you first and with all I am.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Fluffy
As a mother it is my job to pretty much keep everyone alive. I feed. I assess health. I dispense medication, vitamins, probiotics. I seatbelt and supervise teeth brushing. And of course, I maintain the lives of plants and pets. Plants, well, I go through a few per year. Pets, they're a bit heartier.
We have a gecco who doesn't have to eat very often. They say she (the pet guy told us how to know it is a girl) can live off the fat in her tail so I make it to the store for crickets about once a month. Then there's the cat. I love our kitty-Violet. She was named by my 6 year old, Emory. A sweet little thing who will bother you endlessly if her food dish is not full. Then there is Daisy. Daisy is, well, was our first hamster. Bought with his own money, Emory got Daisy about 2 and 1/2 months ago. She was still rather new.
Well, she didn't make it. As you can imagine a 6 year old isn't great at taking care of a pet. So I fed her when I remembered. Daisy loved to empty her food dish as soon as I'd fill it up. She, like any hamster, would hoard all her grain in her little burrow. So it was hard to tell when she needed more. So hard, that she didn't have any and she starved. I felt awful. Last night when I found her little body-still soft, I dreaded telling Emory. How do you tell your little son that you killed his pet? I felt like I failed.
I told him this morning and he handled it so well. It was like a mini death. I watched as he was shocked and upset, then wondered how and why. He was curious to see the body and joked a little with his brothers. He spoke of God and how He "knew". It amazed me. The entire grief period took about 30 minutes. Then we buried Daisy in a shallow, marked grave and said some words of prayer.
A mini death. A mini grief. A mini funeral. I love minitures.
Now we have Fluffy. We got her this morning after burying Daisy. She's really cute. And she has a much bigger food dish.
Recently I've seen a few friends go through some really hard times while losing a loved one. Death is so weird, yet the experience is so universal. Everyone grieves in their own unique way because we are all unique. But God does know-even the mini deaths. And he gives the grace one needs. A hamster is by no means a person. And replacing the hamster certainly helped my son's (and my) heart to overcome. But I think His grace is even sufficient in the big ones.
One day I will lose someone dear. So will Emory. I hope God's grace will be sufficient for me then.
We have a gecco who doesn't have to eat very often. They say she (the pet guy told us how to know it is a girl) can live off the fat in her tail so I make it to the store for crickets about once a month. Then there's the cat. I love our kitty-Violet. She was named by my 6 year old, Emory. A sweet little thing who will bother you endlessly if her food dish is not full. Then there is Daisy. Daisy is, well, was our first hamster. Bought with his own money, Emory got Daisy about 2 and 1/2 months ago. She was still rather new.
Well, she didn't make it. As you can imagine a 6 year old isn't great at taking care of a pet. So I fed her when I remembered. Daisy loved to empty her food dish as soon as I'd fill it up. She, like any hamster, would hoard all her grain in her little burrow. So it was hard to tell when she needed more. So hard, that she didn't have any and she starved. I felt awful. Last night when I found her little body-still soft, I dreaded telling Emory. How do you tell your little son that you killed his pet? I felt like I failed.
I told him this morning and he handled it so well. It was like a mini death. I watched as he was shocked and upset, then wondered how and why. He was curious to see the body and joked a little with his brothers. He spoke of God and how He "knew". It amazed me. The entire grief period took about 30 minutes. Then we buried Daisy in a shallow, marked grave and said some words of prayer.
A mini death. A mini grief. A mini funeral. I love minitures.
Now we have Fluffy. We got her this morning after burying Daisy. She's really cute. And she has a much bigger food dish.
Recently I've seen a few friends go through some really hard times while losing a loved one. Death is so weird, yet the experience is so universal. Everyone grieves in their own unique way because we are all unique. But God does know-even the mini deaths. And he gives the grace one needs. A hamster is by no means a person. And replacing the hamster certainly helped my son's (and my) heart to overcome. But I think His grace is even sufficient in the big ones.
One day I will lose someone dear. So will Emory. I hope God's grace will be sufficient for me then.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Dave and I often joke about the crazy situations our boys present to us. I say I'm going to write a book and each chapter title will be one of their many exploits. A few years ago, Simon who is now 8, had a squishy, sticky alligator toy. Somehow it ended up stuck to our 9 foot living room ceiling. And it was up there for a while-maybe a week. After it finally fell down, there was an oily alligator print reminding me of it's position. Gotta love dollar store toys.
Alligators on the Ceiling. That's the title of my blog. It brings a smile to my face. A trick I've learned-or maybe just a survival technique-is I have to find the good in all situations. My prayer is that this will stay with me.
Our ceiling now has a new, clean coat of white paint. No more alligator print. At the time I was annoyed that the cheap, rubber toy made it's home on my ceiling. Relief when it fell was replaced by irritation at the stain. But it WAS funny. And each situation allows for some laughter. Maybe as the boys grow I can learn to better see each predicament as a silly, transient experience to hold in my heart.
"But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart", Luke 2:19
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