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!
Sunday, March 31, 2013
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 - - - -
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
My First Birthday Party
Ed. note: I found this post today - I started it a year ago. I have no idea why it took me so long to write it, insert pictures, edit it, and then post it. It just goes to show that . . . the years ARE short. Since I'm trying to document my life as a mama - it seemed appropriate to go ahead and post it. Ironically L's next birthday part is just over a week away. It's not going to be fancy - this year is a science theme. I wonder how long it will take me to get it posted . . . . . . . . . .
_____________________________________________________________
Okay - so it wasn't really my first Birthday Party - but it was the first one I've ever thrown as a mama. L chose a "Fancy Nancy" theme. We LOVE Fancy Nancy at our house. L is Fancy Nancy - at least she'd like to be. I did a google search for "Fancy Nancy Party Blogs" and got most of my ideas. My biggest concern pre-party was whether or not we had enough activities to fill the 2 hours. . . . . we didn't - but the girls didn't mind just playing together in our basement.
L got to invite 5 friends - one for every year. She had to "invite" her sister, but she didn't have to count her as one of the five. The invitations went out and everyone could come. I made the invitations by scanning a couple of pages from Fancy Nancy books, cutting, and pasting - and ohh la la - we had a fancy invitation. The guests were encouraged to "come fancy".
The fancy table - who knew white trash bags and fuschia toule could make anything fancy. I did purchase Fancy Nancy placemats online - but the other tableservice was from the dollar store.
I also purchase Fancy Nancy stickers for the goody bags. (We already had the book and the doll.) The goody bags had several items for the girls to make themselves "fancy": a bracelet, a ring, a fuchsia feather boa, fuchsia sunglasses, & a sparkly headband.
We had a snacks. Fancy Nancy always eat with her pinky in the air - it's a fancy way of eating. For dessert we made delectable parfaits. It was a fun party, but I'm glad I don't have to host another one for a year.
Full Disclosure
I've been thinking alot recently about the things we tell and don't tell our children. Some things we don't tell them because we want to surprise them (for instance we're going to the Museum of Science & Industry on Monday and it's going to be a TOTAL surprise!) Other things we don't tell them because we are trying to protect them. We don't tell them many things about what is going on in the world at large. They're not ready to understand war, killings, & immorality. Sure they know people do bad things - but that's enough for now.
But there are other things we don't tell them - things about us; about our family. We kept a recent loss in our family completely unknown to our two girls. It's made me think alot: What did my parents keep from me? The loss in our life is something the girls will probably eventually want to know - when do we share it with them? How do we go about it?
Our loss was a second miscarriage. We'd seen a heartbeat a few weeks earlier and we were literally days away from telling the girls the good news. The miscarriage resulted in an outpatient procedure. Our first was at school and our second thought she was simply getting an all day play date with one of her best friends.
I would think, that being female, my girls would one day like to know about this. But when do we tell them? Apparently my own mother had a miscarriage. I know little about it, but the news was delivered to me at my brother's wedding. I might have chosen a different time and place to learn about this, but there really wasn't ever a "good" time to just bring it up.
What else didn't my parents tell me? From what did they protect me? Other losses? Financial hardships? Who knows, but I know they always had my best interest in mind.
Just like we do. Should we have shared about the loss with them? I was so wrapped up in my own grief that I couldn't bear the thought of helping them grieve. Was the selfish or wise? I wasn't ready to answer the questions that would come about life & death and about reproduction.
We make countless decision each week - many of which we do not seek their input, yet most of which affect them directly or indirectly. In the name of "protecting" them, are we taking away from them the opportunity to process the world in which they live? As they grow, I'm sure we'll share more with them. But when do we start and how do we go about it?
I don't expect to get all the answers or to even always get it right . . . . these are just the things that I've been pondering of late.
But there are other things we don't tell them - things about us; about our family. We kept a recent loss in our family completely unknown to our two girls. It's made me think alot: What did my parents keep from me? The loss in our life is something the girls will probably eventually want to know - when do we share it with them? How do we go about it?
Our loss was a second miscarriage. We'd seen a heartbeat a few weeks earlier and we were literally days away from telling the girls the good news. The miscarriage resulted in an outpatient procedure. Our first was at school and our second thought she was simply getting an all day play date with one of her best friends.
I would think, that being female, my girls would one day like to know about this. But when do we tell them? Apparently my own mother had a miscarriage. I know little about it, but the news was delivered to me at my brother's wedding. I might have chosen a different time and place to learn about this, but there really wasn't ever a "good" time to just bring it up.
What else didn't my parents tell me? From what did they protect me? Other losses? Financial hardships? Who knows, but I know they always had my best interest in mind.
Just like we do. Should we have shared about the loss with them? I was so wrapped up in my own grief that I couldn't bear the thought of helping them grieve. Was the selfish or wise? I wasn't ready to answer the questions that would come about life & death and about reproduction.
We make countless decision each week - many of which we do not seek their input, yet most of which affect them directly or indirectly. In the name of "protecting" them, are we taking away from them the opportunity to process the world in which they live? As they grow, I'm sure we'll share more with them. But when do we start and how do we go about it?
I don't expect to get all the answers or to even always get it right . . . . these are just the things that I've been pondering of late.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Kindergarten
Last week, in a more profound way than ever before, I was painfully reminded that years are in fact short. . . . .
L started Kindergarten. I wept as she got on the bus. I wept throughout the day and I'm weeping even now as I write about the experience.
On that day I read a blog post the put into words many of my emotions in a way that I could not even begin to process. The author's words brought me great comfort.
I wasn't sad because she was going to Kindergarten. I wasn't even sad because time had gone fast. She was ready; I was ready. She's almost six, she hasn't been napping for a year, she's been counting the days since early Spring . . . .it was time. I've known since the day she was born that this day would come, and I was okay with it.
I wept because she was facing the world. For the first time she would spend large chunks of time out of my reach. My ability to protect her was waning. (Yes, I know my ability to protect her is nil, this is God's privilege alone but you know what I mean!) What if she become the victim of bullying: she's sweet & innocent - an easy target? What if she gets frustrated because she doesn't understand a concept or an instruction? What if she doesn't make friends? What if no one speaks her love language to her? What if . . .. What if . . . . What it . . . . . .???
She going to learn things that I don't want her to learn. I understand that this is why many of my brothers and sisters opt to homeschool their children. However, we do not believe this is God's plan for our family at this time.
For me, the start of Kindergarten ushered in a whole new season in my life of trusting God. It brought a whole new sense of my utter inability to protect my daughter from some of the realities of life. I am confident that the pain I feel will be real with each transition in her life. I have been faced with the hard cold reality that much of my sadness is a result of control issues in my own life. The Holy Spirit has used my times of reflection to show me that my sadness really boils down to the fact that I want to be in control of her life (or at least feel like I'm in control of her life). STUPID SIN!!
So far she LOVES Kindergarten. She's a little distraught at the behavior of some of her peers on the 30 minute school bus ride home. (I expect that within the next couple of weeks, we will remove her from the bus and opt to provide our own transportation for her - at least after school.)
I'm praying fervently that God will protect her and preserve her. When the "what ifs" come, I try to pray: confess my anxiety, confess my desire to be in control, and trust. I'm trying to embrace this season and enjoy her enthusiasm. All the while knowing that while the days are long, the years are short!
L started Kindergarten. I wept as she got on the bus. I wept throughout the day and I'm weeping even now as I write about the experience.
I wasn't sad because she was going to Kindergarten. I wasn't even sad because time had gone fast. She was ready; I was ready. She's almost six, she hasn't been napping for a year, she's been counting the days since early Spring . . . .it was time. I've known since the day she was born that this day would come, and I was okay with it.
I wept because she was facing the world. For the first time she would spend large chunks of time out of my reach. My ability to protect her was waning. (Yes, I know my ability to protect her is nil, this is God's privilege alone but you know what I mean!) What if she become the victim of bullying: she's sweet & innocent - an easy target? What if she gets frustrated because she doesn't understand a concept or an instruction? What if she doesn't make friends? What if no one speaks her love language to her? What if . . .. What if . . . . What it . . . . . .???
She going to learn things that I don't want her to learn. I understand that this is why many of my brothers and sisters opt to homeschool their children. However, we do not believe this is God's plan for our family at this time.
For me, the start of Kindergarten ushered in a whole new season in my life of trusting God. It brought a whole new sense of my utter inability to protect my daughter from some of the realities of life. I am confident that the pain I feel will be real with each transition in her life. I have been faced with the hard cold reality that much of my sadness is a result of control issues in my own life. The Holy Spirit has used my times of reflection to show me that my sadness really boils down to the fact that I want to be in control of her life (or at least feel like I'm in control of her life). STUPID SIN!!
So far she LOVES Kindergarten. She's a little distraught at the behavior of some of her peers on the 30 minute school bus ride home. (I expect that within the next couple of weeks, we will remove her from the bus and opt to provide our own transportation for her - at least after school.)
I'm praying fervently that God will protect her and preserve her. When the "what ifs" come, I try to pray: confess my anxiety, confess my desire to be in control, and trust. I'm trying to embrace this season and enjoy her enthusiasm. All the while knowing that while the days are long, the years are short!
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
She Gets It!!
When we discipline our children, every once and a while we give them grace instead of a consequence for the offense. When they are given grace the conversation goes something like this:
Parent: What did you just do?
Child: I disobeyed.
P: What do you deserve?
C: I deserve a consequence.
P: Today I'm going to give you grace. What is grace?
C: Grace is when I get something I don't deserve.
P: What do you deserve?
C: A consequence.
P: Who gives us grace?
C: God gives us grace.
P: When did God give us grace?
C: When he sent Jesus to die for our sins.
P: So you deserve a spanking, but I'm giving you grace to remind you that I love you. Just like God loves you so much. He doesn't want you to have to suffer the consequences of sin so he sent Jesus. What do you need to say to me?
C: I'm sorry for disobeying.
P: I forgive you and I love you very much.
Recently after going through the dialogue above L looked at me and said, "Mama - it sure seems to me to God gives me a whole lot more grace than you do!"
I think part of God's grace to me is the humility that comes along with parenting.
Parent: What did you just do?
Child: I disobeyed.
P: What do you deserve?
C: I deserve a consequence.
P: Today I'm going to give you grace. What is grace?
C: Grace is when I get something I don't deserve.
P: What do you deserve?
C: A consequence.
P: Who gives us grace?
C: God gives us grace.
P: When did God give us grace?
C: When he sent Jesus to die for our sins.
P: So you deserve a spanking, but I'm giving you grace to remind you that I love you. Just like God loves you so much. He doesn't want you to have to suffer the consequences of sin so he sent Jesus. What do you need to say to me?
C: I'm sorry for disobeying.
P: I forgive you and I love you very much.
Recently after going through the dialogue above L looked at me and said, "Mama - it sure seems to me to God gives me a whole lot more grace than you do!"
I think part of God's grace to me is the humility that comes along with parenting.
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