There seem to be alot of very divisive topics in the Christian community these days. Within the last several days I have seen and read passionate blog posts on GMOs, breast feeding, habits of the rich & poor, family size, and education of children . . .just to name a few.
Every person that has written or posted articles has given compelling reasons why their particular view on said topic is right. Not just right, but Christian - God honoring.
My concern over all this passion is growing.
For starters on many of today's "hot" topics, I've read writings from Christians (often Evangelicals) on both sides of the issue. Rarely have I read a writer conceding that perhaps thoughtful, intelligent, God-fearing people can feel differently about an issue.
I'm reading alot of hate and anger and not sensing alot of grace.
Some of the things I've read have upset me. I've felt compelled to defend myself more than once. I stop; remind myself that the opinions expressed are just that . . . opinions. I tell myself that I am accountable only to God for the decisions I am making. What's best for my family isn't best for everyone's family. After 5-10 minutes of self talk I can usually get back to a place of respect and appreciation for the opportunity of free speech.
But the thing that is bothering me more than the opinions expressed is the way in which we are doing it. We are writing & posting these essays all over social media and as I said earlier, they are not always filled with love and grace.
So what are those who are not Christ followers seeing? Are they seeing the love we have for each other? Are they seeing Believers who genuinely want to encourage one another? Are they seeing servant leaders who are willing to put aside the "right to be right" with humility?
I fear they are not. I fear they are seeing people filled with pride, anger (which is often NOT righteous), and hate. I fear they are seeing people who are operating from places of fear and bondage rather than from love and freedom.
Does what they see motivate them to follow Christ? Does what they read cause them to ask more about this community of Believers who are supposed to be known by their love for each other and for God.
I fear the answer is no.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Our Family Tree
We had a new babysitter recently. The girls LOVED her and are already talking about "the next time she comes". We are especially excited because this particular babysitter is not from our church. (Church girls - we LOVE you too, don't worry!!) But since most of the events that we need babysitters for are church activities - we use the same pool of sitters as four or five other families. It can get kind of competitive as to who gets the babysitters first!
Our new sitter is my aunt's niece . . . . get it? (If not - here's the skinny: My aunt married my mom's brother and the new sitter is the daughter of my aunt's brother. So she's not related to us - but we do share mutual cousins and an aunt and uncle.)
During the evening the girls were showing Lizzie their scrapbooks. They happened upon a picture of one of the shared cousins. Lizzie says, "Oh look - it's Jessica." Imagine the shock . . . my girls were quite confused as to how Lizzie could possibly know Jessica.
HELLO worlds colliding.
Lizzie told the girls that Jessica was her cousin too. Stop. the. presses. . . . how could this be?
We came home to this note, written by our 7 year old who was clearly shaken by the revelation:
For those who don't fluently read 1st grade print & spelling, let me translate: "Lizzie is in our family. I am embarrassed, not Grace. Did you know before we told you. Sign here . . . .yes . . . no . . . Circle if you know and write the word."
As you can see, we followed the instructions - by circling yes and writing the word.
The next morning we were discussing Lizzie's relationship to our family. I was explaining this seemingly complicated relationship. The discussion included why Lizzie isn't at most of our family events. I explained to them that Lizzie was, in fact, at cousin Jim's wedding. And we would most likely see her again when/if Jessica, John, & Nolan get married. The girls were quick to assure me that we would see Lizzie at her own wedding . . . . . see I told you they loved her - they're already inviting themselves to her wedding. So once I thought everything was understood, I asked for a recap to see if they had grasped the concept. This was the answer from our 4 year old:
"It's like this - we have the same family, but she's not on any of the branches of OUR tree."
Our new sitter is my aunt's niece . . . . get it? (If not - here's the skinny: My aunt married my mom's brother and the new sitter is the daughter of my aunt's brother. So she's not related to us - but we do share mutual cousins and an aunt and uncle.)
During the evening the girls were showing Lizzie their scrapbooks. They happened upon a picture of one of the shared cousins. Lizzie says, "Oh look - it's Jessica." Imagine the shock . . . my girls were quite confused as to how Lizzie could possibly know Jessica.
HELLO worlds colliding.
Lizzie told the girls that Jessica was her cousin too. Stop. the. presses. . . . how could this be?
We came home to this note, written by our 7 year old who was clearly shaken by the revelation:
As you can see, we followed the instructions - by circling yes and writing the word.
The next morning we were discussing Lizzie's relationship to our family. I was explaining this seemingly complicated relationship. The discussion included why Lizzie isn't at most of our family events. I explained to them that Lizzie was, in fact, at cousin Jim's wedding. And we would most likely see her again when/if Jessica, John, & Nolan get married. The girls were quick to assure me that we would see Lizzie at her own wedding . . . . . see I told you they loved her - they're already inviting themselves to her wedding. So once I thought everything was understood, I asked for a recap to see if they had grasped the concept. This was the answer from our 4 year old:
"It's like this - we have the same family, but she's not on any of the branches of OUR tree."
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Letting Go
One of our summer goals was for L to learn how to ride a two wheeler. We started practicing almost as soon as school was out in June. We took off the training wheels and gave it a try. Michael and I took turns holding onto her seat while she peddled. It didn't go well . . .
After just a few attempts the training wheels went back on the bike and summer progressed. We tried a couple more times, but it seemed she just wasn't quite ready.
Last week we gave it one more try. School was about to start and she wanted to accomplish her goal. I admit as I unbolted the training wheels, I was less than confident.
We started again - her riding, me running behind holding the seat. I just couldn't bring myself to let go of the seat. She was too wobbly and wasn't peddling fast enough. I exhorted her to "keep her balance and peddle faster." But we were in the same place as before.
Then something happened and I let go . . . . . .she kept peddling . . . and she didn't fall off the bike.
I was amazed and humbled. Turns out I was the one holding her back. All I needed to do was let go. Once I did she was free to ride.
I've thought and thought about this. I wonder how many times as her mom, I have been unwilling to let go and therefor held her back from what she could have accomplished? I thought she needed more balance and more speed, but all she really needed was the freedom to go.
I'm sure this will happen again. Letting go is so hard - and there will be so much of it in the future. I'll have to let her go more and more each year and ultimately I will have let her fly away. I've heard the cliche about giving our children roots and wings, but this week the cliche made more sense to me than ever before.
After just a few attempts the training wheels went back on the bike and summer progressed. We tried a couple more times, but it seemed she just wasn't quite ready.
Last week we gave it one more try. School was about to start and she wanted to accomplish her goal. I admit as I unbolted the training wheels, I was less than confident.
We started again - her riding, me running behind holding the seat. I just couldn't bring myself to let go of the seat. She was too wobbly and wasn't peddling fast enough. I exhorted her to "keep her balance and peddle faster." But we were in the same place as before.
Then something happened and I let go . . . . . .she kept peddling . . . and she didn't fall off the bike.
I was amazed and humbled. Turns out I was the one holding her back. All I needed to do was let go. Once I did she was free to ride.
I've thought and thought about this. I wonder how many times as her mom, I have been unwilling to let go and therefor held her back from what she could have accomplished? I thought she needed more balance and more speed, but all she really needed was the freedom to go.
I'm sure this will happen again. Letting go is so hard - and there will be so much of it in the future. I'll have to let her go more and more each year and ultimately I will have let her fly away. I've heard the cliche about giving our children roots and wings, but this week the cliche made more sense to me than ever before.
Friday, May 17, 2013
The Secret to Being Kind
Our precious 3 year old has a tendency to throw temper tantrums when
she doesn't get her way. We've been trying to teach her that if she
would just use words instead of throwing a fit, sometimes we can make
changes.
So a while back there was a morning she didn't want to wear the shirt I had picked out for her. She really wanted to pitch a fit . . I could see the wheels turning in her head. Finally she looked at me and said "Mama the arms in this shirt feel funny could I please not wear it?" (Now it was in a whining voice - but I didn't care - she didn't throw a fit!) PARENTING VICTORY. Then she said, "Instead could I wear my 'I'm A Hoot' shirt?" PARENTING VICTORY #2 -
So I began to poor on the praise. . . .thank you for using words . . . of course you can wear a different shirt . . . that is exactly how mommy & daddy want you to express your feelings. . . . that was so kind . .. etc, etc, etc.
Then she says . . . .
" Yep mom . it's because I'm naked. It's just easier to be kind when I'm naked"
There you have it.
So a while back there was a morning she didn't want to wear the shirt I had picked out for her. She really wanted to pitch a fit . . I could see the wheels turning in her head. Finally she looked at me and said "Mama the arms in this shirt feel funny could I please not wear it?" (Now it was in a whining voice - but I didn't care - she didn't throw a fit!) PARENTING VICTORY. Then she said, "Instead could I wear my 'I'm A Hoot' shirt?" PARENTING VICTORY #2 -
So I began to poor on the praise. . . .thank you for using words . . . of course you can wear a different shirt . . . that is exactly how mommy & daddy want you to express your feelings. . . . that was so kind . .. etc, etc, etc.
Then she says . . . .
" Yep mom . it's because I'm naked. It's just easier to be kind when I'm naked"
There you have it.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Truth & Consequences
At bedtime recently L confessed to an act of disobedience. It was clear that her conscious demanded she tell the truth. However, in the midst of her confession she also lied - trying to hide the disobedience. As is our custom, there was a consequence for her actions.
She was sorrowful. She came downstairs lamenting that she had given into the temptation. Her sobs were from the heart and she was truly repentant.
In the meantime G also wondered downstairs to inquire as to why L was crying. We assured her that everything was under control and she needed to return upstairs. She chose to stay downstairs and thus ultimately received a consequence for her disobedience. She began weeping.
So now we sat on the couch with two sobbing girls. It was there that I realized. One cried out of remorse for her own sin and one cried out of dislike for the consequence. For L, there was no thought of the consequence and for G there was not thought of the disobedience.
Lord, give me wisdom in parenting these precious girls. Allow me to help them see their need for a Savior, but also to accept his grace and forgiveness. Amen!
She was sorrowful. She came downstairs lamenting that she had given into the temptation. Her sobs were from the heart and she was truly repentant.
In the meantime G also wondered downstairs to inquire as to why L was crying. We assured her that everything was under control and she needed to return upstairs. She chose to stay downstairs and thus ultimately received a consequence for her disobedience. She began weeping.
So now we sat on the couch with two sobbing girls. It was there that I realized. One cried out of remorse for her own sin and one cried out of dislike for the consequence. For L, there was no thought of the consequence and for G there was not thought of the disobedience.
Lord, give me wisdom in parenting these precious girls. Allow me to help them see their need for a Savior, but also to accept his grace and forgiveness. Amen!
An Easter Reminder
I left my home grumpy this morning. It was Easter morning, a day when I should have been more joyful and cheerful. But alas I fell victim to frustration, pride, vanity, & disappointment. The very sins for which my Savior died. And here I was on the way to church to celebrate his victory over the grave with a heart full of sin.
My grumpiness was unfounded; it was prideful and vain. First there was a battle when it came time to get dressed. The three year old, who is very sensitive to all stimulus, thought her dress was too "itchy". She didn't like the waistband and said the dress was uncomfortable. I dug in my heals. I had bought her and her sister new Easter dresses, after all. They were cute and matching. Michael & I had coordinating colors - so we were going to make a very snappy photograph. So I fought the battle . . . there were tears (hers, not mine). And I won. She wore the dress. She must learn to like the dress, I reasoned; after all in a couple of years she will wear the dress again - in the bigger size that her sister wears today. Vanity.
I had hoped to make myself a cup of Chai Latte this morning. Time ran short. We raced out the door and the milk sat in the cold refrigerator instead of piping hot in my travel mug. My disappointment was high. My pride surfaced - if I didn't have to spend so much time caring for everyone else, I could have made my chai. There was no love in my heart for those whom I had served. I also reasoned that if I hadn't needed to engage in the battle of the dress, I could have made my drink. Pride.
And yet here I was, on my way to church to celebrate the forgiveness which I so badly needed.
As my repentant heart pondered the events of the morning, the Lord reminded me of what did happen this morning. Instead of hunting for Easter eggs or opening Easter presents, I spent 20 minutes on the couch with my girls - reading the Easter Story. Those 20 minutes were precious and priceless and much better for my soul than a cup of chai would have been for my tummy. And then I looked around the car, we were all in the car together. All of us. For the first time that I can remember we all rode together. Our family took one car to church. In order to do this we left home a few minutes earlier than I would have if I had been driving just the girls. It was rare morning when I had to be there a little earlier than usual and Michael could afford to arrive a little later than usual. There's something about riding together to church as a family that does my heart good.
So by time I reached church, my heart was again joyful. We were together as a family and I had invested in the right places. I am so thankful for the Holy Spirit's work in my heart so that I could be reminded of my desperate need for the work my Savior did on the cross. My celebration of Christ's resurrection was just a little more sweet today.
And we did get a cute picture too - - -but that's not what it was all about. It's just reminder, again, of God's grace in my life. :)
My grumpiness was unfounded; it was prideful and vain. First there was a battle when it came time to get dressed. The three year old, who is very sensitive to all stimulus, thought her dress was too "itchy". She didn't like the waistband and said the dress was uncomfortable. I dug in my heals. I had bought her and her sister new Easter dresses, after all. They were cute and matching. Michael & I had coordinating colors - so we were going to make a very snappy photograph. So I fought the battle . . . there were tears (hers, not mine). And I won. She wore the dress. She must learn to like the dress, I reasoned; after all in a couple of years she will wear the dress again - in the bigger size that her sister wears today. Vanity.
I had hoped to make myself a cup of Chai Latte this morning. Time ran short. We raced out the door and the milk sat in the cold refrigerator instead of piping hot in my travel mug. My disappointment was high. My pride surfaced - if I didn't have to spend so much time caring for everyone else, I could have made my chai. There was no love in my heart for those whom I had served. I also reasoned that if I hadn't needed to engage in the battle of the dress, I could have made my drink. Pride.
And yet here I was, on my way to church to celebrate the forgiveness which I so badly needed.
As my repentant heart pondered the events of the morning, the Lord reminded me of what did happen this morning. Instead of hunting for Easter eggs or opening Easter presents, I spent 20 minutes on the couch with my girls - reading the Easter Story. Those 20 minutes were precious and priceless and much better for my soul than a cup of chai would have been for my tummy. And then I looked around the car, we were all in the car together. All of us. For the first time that I can remember we all rode together. Our family took one car to church. In order to do this we left home a few minutes earlier than I would have if I had been driving just the girls. It was rare morning when I had to be there a little earlier than usual and Michael could afford to arrive a little later than usual. There's something about riding together to church as a family that does my heart good.
So by time I reached church, my heart was again joyful. We were together as a family and I had invested in the right places. I am so thankful for the Holy Spirit's work in my heart so that I could be reminded of my desperate need for the work my Savior did on the cross. My celebration of Christ's resurrection was just a little more sweet today.
And we did get a cute picture too - - -but that's not what it was all about. It's just reminder, again, of God's grace in my life. :)
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Love, Mom
I had a first last week and it was emotional. At the time I didn't realize it was a first and I had no idea it would choke me up in such a way as it did.
On Valentine's Day I wrote a note to L and put in her lunch box. She's just learning to read and I thought it would be a fun surprise. It was simple and to the point . . .
Dear L,
Happy Valentine's Day.
I love you!
Love,
Mom
As I wrote the salutation my eyes filled with tears. What was it about writing "Love, Mom" that was made me so emotional? Apparently it was the first time I had written those words. I've written many expressions with my girls in mind as the audience - namely their scrapbooks and the occasional blog post I put here. But as I contemplated it I realized this was my first letter (albeit more a note) written directly to one of my children.
Even tonight I am still teary when I type "Love, Mom". Why was/is the written expression of these words so profound to me?
All of the sudden I felt the weight of being a mom (not the first time I've had that feeling). I was overcome with the reality of the fact of all that I am to her.
I wish I could articulate my feelings better. But tonight I can't - - - -
On Valentine's Day I wrote a note to L and put in her lunch box. She's just learning to read and I thought it would be a fun surprise. It was simple and to the point . . .
Dear L,
Happy Valentine's Day.
I love you!
Love,
Mom
As I wrote the salutation my eyes filled with tears. What was it about writing "Love, Mom" that was made me so emotional? Apparently it was the first time I had written those words. I've written many expressions with my girls in mind as the audience - namely their scrapbooks and the occasional blog post I put here. But as I contemplated it I realized this was my first letter (albeit more a note) written directly to one of my children.
Even tonight I am still teary when I type "Love, Mom". Why was/is the written expression of these words so profound to me?
All of the sudden I felt the weight of being a mom (not the first time I've had that feeling). I was overcome with the reality of the fact of all that I am to her.
I wish I could articulate my feelings better. But tonight I can't - - - -
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