The Hardest Choice

My dear daughter Clare is a little--um--strong-willed. In many ways this is a blessing. I know where she stands on things, and she knows what she believes and isn't interested in following the latest trends. She's bright and boisterous, golden-haired and glorious. I never dreamed how she would so truly live up to the meaning of her name: "Brilliant light." There are many times I'm blinded by her (or sideswiped, befuddled, flabbergasted--those are other good descriptors).

So, yes, strong-willed. Unfortunately, a strong will out of control can be like a bolt of lightning, burning everything it touches. And while Clare has rained down her bolts off and on over the years, we've lately had an increase in them, and as a result she makes herself and everyone around her miserable. We think we've hit on a way to work with this, but it's one of those tricky discipline things. On the one hand, the behavior must stop--it's not acceptable--and Clare needs to be given the tools and structure to help it stop. On the other hand, we don't want a behavior change to be merely external. If her heart hasn't changed, no outward appearance is going to be worth beans down the road. We don't want our daughter to appear to be a "good little Christian" who has a heart full of rebellion. So that change is not something we can force on her. It has to be a decision made between her and the God she loves with all of her fiery heart.

That's what makes our ongoing conversations so frustrating every time we see a potential lightning storm. They often sound like this: 

"Clare, you have a choice. You can choose to throw a tantrum about this, or you can choose to accept it." 

"Urggh!!! You're making me angry!" 

"No Clare, you're choosing to be angry. I don't have control over that, you do." 

(Groan, mumble, complain.) 

"Clare, you can ask Jesus to help you make the right choice. He wants to help you, but he can't unless you ask him." 

(More stomping of feet and gnashing of teeth.)

To tell the truth, I just want to shake her or hold her tightly or something and yell, "Why are you making this so difficult??? Don't you know you would be so much happier if you would just accept this with grace and move on? Why are you trying to be miserable and drag everyone down with you?"

Inevitably at this point, though, a still small Voice nudges me and asks kindly, but wryly, "Sounds kind of familiar, huh?"

In John 14:15 Jesus says, "If you love me, you will keep my commandments." He's not laying down the law in a high-and-mighty "I'm God and you had better obey me" way. He's stating a simple fact that is one of the hardest of all things for me to internalize. When you truly love someone who is put in authority over you (like God, or parents) you want to be like them. The way to be like them is to do what they instruct as the way to live.

I want to be like Christ. Really. I can't imagine anything more amazing than loving like him, having his wisdom, and kindness, and compassion. I want to live in complete obedience to God like Christ did, to the point where he was willing to lay down his own life because he knew it was the only way to save us. He faced the biggest fears anyone could face, the fears of persecution and death, with grace and humility. And God was glorified. I want my life to be like that!!!

But when I dive into my daily routine I find that I'm not faced with dramatic choices of life or death. I don't have opportunities to exhibit epic heroism for Christ. Instead, I have to get three children out the door so we get to school on time. I have to make sure that they are fed and hopefully dressed by then, and that their hair is at least brushed (forget fancy hairdos). I need to be sure that my family is fed, so there are grocery runs and meals to make. I want my husband to feel somewhat relaxed when he arrives home from an exhausting work day, so it's helpful if the house looks slightly picked-up. These are just a few parts of the routine. Add to that the non-stop interactions with the kids which range from the joyful and hilarious to the grating, frustrating and angering.

When the frustration starts to boil I know I'm walking a line and I have a choice to make. I can go my way and let the temper overflow. Doesn't it feel great to blow up now and then? And after all, the kids have deliberately pushed my buttons. They made me angry, right? So in a way they deserve my anger that can spew and roll over them like lava. We'll all just wash it off later. No lingering effects. Right....

 

My other choice is to step back and pray. To take my hands off and say, "Lord, I can't do this. My attitude sucks right now and any love, patience, kindness, and self-control here is going to have to come from you. I choose to obey you and let you work."

How does this play out? The few times when I've truly done this, the results have been shocking, but not because they were supernaturally miraculous. Rather, they seemed completely natural. I was still in the midst of the situation with my kids, but my perspective changed and I wasn't boiling with anger any more. I hadn't done anything to change my attitude, and so it wasn't till later that I realized there had been a change...and that change could only have happened supernaturally.

It seems so simple and obvious that the best choice is to obey. And yet over and over again I am fighting it. And the reason I am is because if I step back and let God take the reins I am giving up control and I don't know what the result will be. If I hold onto my anger, I can guarantee the result: the kids will be upset and I'll be kicking myself for the day with my guilty conscience. But hey! I got to keep control over that situation!

So as we talk with Clare about making the right choice, I find I'm talking to myself over and over again. And I'm praying more that my words will not just be for show, and that my desire for her obedience won't be so that I'll be the great Mom-in-control. I'm praying that she'll learn how to make this difficult choice now when she's young so she isn't fighting it so hard when she gets to be my age. Who knows how many marvelous things God will be able to do in her life as a result!

Since Valentine's Day Was Last Week....

Valentine's Day is not a big deal at our house for a few reasons, but in recent years, this year particularly, it brought little to no pleasure for me. I'm not a Valentine's Day hater or anything; in fact, I give it more weight than most "Hallmark Holidays" because it actually has a history that dates back to Roman times and the early Christians. For this reason, I'm letting it stand on our calendar.

But there a few reasons why we don't make it a big deal. I could blame it on my Dearly Beloved, who is not a romantic. I'm not being sarcastic when I call him "Dearly Beloved," because Kraig really is that. I am blessed with a husband who I can trust with my life, who loves me despite all my foibles, and who does everything he can to support our family and be a great dad. More than that, he deeply desires to do God's will in everything, which gives him first place in my view. But romance and special occasions are not his forte. Once in a long while he blows me away with something amazing, but after almost seventeen years of marriage, and three years of dating prior to that, I've come to expect that as the exception, not the rule.

Really, though, that's not the only factor. As much as I'd like to think I'm a romantic, I'm not. Practicality always wins out. Yes, Kraig could by me flowers, or chocolate, or a lovely card, but then what? I'd like the flowers, but they'll wilt and have to be thrown away. The chocolate would be yummy (and he'd know to get good, dark chocolate, too). But do I really want more candy kicking around the house? And the card would be a lovely sentiment, but do I keep it forever to add to my ever-growing pile of papers, or do I toss it? I won't even mention a costly dinner out with a babysitter and what that would do to the budget.... Yep, don't like that thought.

But then this year there was one more thing that just about put me over the edge: the valentines needed for my kids and their programs. We had five occasions that required valentines this year, and two of those also required a covered shoebox, one fully-decorated. Clare and Ev, for educational purposes, had to address and sign their valentines. This is good practice, but it meant a week of little stickers and valentines that had to be brought out and then put away until all were done and put in little bags to be sent to school. Then, once the class parties were over, there was the question of what to do with all those not-so-dear valentines brought home that, heaven forbid, we throw out! I won't even go into the fact that this also meant more candy coming home which then has to be dealt with.

Sigh! Cynical, aren't I?

To say the least, I knew when February 14 rolled around this past week, I'd better come up with something special for us to do or I'd wallow in self-pity and loathing for the whole day.

So Evie, Jon and I made a cake. Cake-making, in this house, is a special treat. I like to make cakes that taste good, and I think those who have had them would agree I typically succeed. Ev loves to help (and Jon thinks he does), so it's a great chance to help them learn things like mixing and measuring. There's also the added benefit of licking spoons and bowls afterward, which Clare got home in time to take part in :) .

While I can make a truly delicious cake, decorating is not my strength. We started with a delicious buttercream frosting, so no problems there. Color and design, though, always are a problem. Ev and I first thought we'd work with a palate of pink, red, and white, but then we saw raspberry on the back of our food coloring box and decided to try that. The result was rather more purple than we expected, which put a damper on creating red hearts for decoration. So we made our red into a darker purple...with limited success. The bright green helped a bit, but you'll have to judge the results:

I can assure you, though, that it tasted marvelous. The fact that I added an extra ounce of chocolate to the batter didn't hurt either.

The kids approved the whole process, and my Dearly Beloved and I have enjoyed the results this week, too.

So while I'm still a Valentine's Day cynic, at least we had something that made this week a treat.

The Butterfly Effect

There is a part of me that never forgets this day of the year and always dreads it. A part of me that would rather it didn't sit there on the calendar, waiting, reminding. And yet this morning it was only as an afterthought I realized that the time during which I made breakfast and ate it with my family was the same time of day my eldest daughter died three years ago.

Oh such great significance her life and death that it's only as an afterthought I think of those final moments, right?

Oddly enough this is a thought that's been niggling at me for a while. How does Keren's life and death play out in the grand scheme of things?

Clarification: I have no doubt that her existence was fully planned and intended by God. I also have no question that she was a gift to us, and not only us, but many around us. Her life shaped Kraig and me in ways we never expected, and God grew us in ways I would never exchange. I know, too, that her death was in God's hand, and it happened exactly when it was supposed to. I was reminded of this twice this past week with Jesus' words in Revelation 1:16, "'I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades.'" Death has no power without Christ's permission. All these are truths I know, and I rejoice in them.

And yet, six-and-a-half years of life. What are those in the vast timeline of mankind? I've almost hit forty, my grandmother is 93 and I've got a great-aunt who's a cracking 97. And yet even our lives are so short on the line. So 6 1/2 years? What is that?

 I suppose if I sat down and started listing things out I would see how much her short life has changed mine and my family's. I would see the myriad ways God has taught me more about unconditional love, the value of all lives no matter how fragile, His sovereignty and centrality of every part of my life. I know these are effects of having known Keren. But on the other hand, nothing huge has shifted. While she lived, Kraig and my world included multiple doctors, therapists, special education teachers, fellow parents. In the three years since then our tie to this world has grown thin. We still know some and stay connected in a way, but that is no longer our world. I regret that at times, but at the same time, I don't feel that God is calling us to try to keep close to this world. We will never forget it, and we value it much more than we ever could have without Keren, but it is not our world now. I don't know exactly where and what He is taking us into, but at the moment, I know it's not back into that world. Does that lessen the significance of Keren's life? Obviously no, but I can't see the big picture and so I wonder.

I suppose that one thing I have realized through Keren's brief life is how important every life is, no matter how short. Every life impacts another...and another...and so on. The ripples continue. My grandmother, for instance, has six sons, fourteen grandchildren, and numerous great-grandchildren who have watched her for years and have been blessed by her humble, godly spirit. That doesn't even begin to touch the hundreds of other lives she has touched. On the other hand, a life snuffed out deliberately, even before birth, affects others by its very absence. I've read some interesting discussions recently as to how the world would be different if Steve Jobs' biological mother had aborted him. Makes one think! The two miscarriages Kraig and I had before Keren deeply affected us. For one, if either had continued full-term, Keren would not have been conceived. For another, the very loss of them vastly changed our perspective on Keren's life when we knew prenatally she might have Trisomy 18. We knew we wanted her, longed for her, no matter what. We wanted her to live! And she did, longer than we had dared to hope. And the lives she touched go on to touch other lives, and so on. The individual timeline might be brief, but each life impacts a life.

A butterfly flaps its wings, clouds collide, tempests rage, floods rise, rainbows of promise appear.

"How many are your works, O Lord! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures." ~Psalm 104:24

I just wish I could see it all from God's perspective. But as I am not able to, I will continue to live here through the storms and floods and wait in confidence for His rainbows.

Learning to Love Round Tables

I hate change.

I've said it before. I'll probably say it again.

I have always hated it, though now that I'm "grown up" I hate it differently than when I was, say, four and threw a temper tantrum when my parents exchanged our rectangular dinner table for a round one. I have matured greatly, and I know now that fits over table changes is pretty juvenile, particularly when the rectangular one was a cheap temporary table my parents got when they were married, while the round one was an heirloom that still graces my parents' dining room and will be passed through generations. How silly I was!

No, now I just hate change with bursts of internal self-pity and outbursts of woe directed toward patient ears of trusted family and friends. There are also extended railings that go on toward God. See how much more mature I am?

Okay, enough sarcasm. In reality, I know God has helped me grow a lot regarding change. I've gotten much better at accepting it, and even my railing and venting is part of my processing, the moving of my heart to the same place of acceptance that my head is. Because I do know that God is so much bigger, and has a much better grasp on all of my circumstances than I ever could. It is He who will make everything beautiful in its time, and when I willingly let Him do that work, my heart changes and I see that the round table is ten times better than the rectangular one.

Still, I try not to be a proponent of change. I will accept it passively, but I tend to avoid doing things that will change my routine or life. As Christmas approached this past year I contemplated Mary and her circumstances in those nine months before Jesus' birth. She was faced with change immeasurably more than any I could imagine, but it was all external. She didn't cause it to happen. And she accepted it with grace, faith, and obedience. I want to be like that. But I don't want to start the ball rolling. Of course, that's sort of silly to think, too, because it's always God who is going to roll the ball (that lovely antinomy of sovereignty vs. free will). I guess what I'm saying is I don't initiate risks to my routine...unless I know that God wants me to.

And there's the rub. About four months ago it became very clear that I had to give Kraig the freedom to start looking into something that could lead to a major change in our family. Hopefully brief overview: When Kraig and I got married, we fully intended to head into work overseas, whether missions or otherwise. Kraig wanted to teach, and with that in mind he pursued a PhD in Civil Engineering. I got a Masters in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages. On September 27, 2002, our lives took a huge, amazing detour when Keren was born. Suddenly overseas work was put on the back burner, and we learned a whole new world of special needs. And our hearts grew in ways we could never have imagined. On January 28, 2009, Keren died, and in an instant we were left with a huge question: Are we back to where we were before our detour? Obviously life had changed for us, and at that point we weren't considering any drastic shifts other than adjusting to our new world without Keren. That was enough. And God used even that to show us grace and beauty. But over the past few years, God has been teaching me more and more about surrendering to Him, and letting Him work through me in whatever way. I want Him to shine, and the only way I can do that is to give up my little whims, because really, they don't make me happy anyway. I had to give Kraig the opportunity to look.

All that to say no change is occurring in our family at the moment. There is absolutely nothing definite except the fact that the possibility is there. That's the funny thing, too. What I'm dreading is the change that may come. I have no idea what form it will take, or even if it will occur, but I am dreading it. That in and of itself actually frustrates me because I know from experience that God can and will work out the details, including the state of my heart. I just don't want to let Him do it because it means change.

In the meantime, I'm watching as He's shifting some things around me that mean inevitable change in the lives of some close friends, and as a result in Kraig's and mine and our kids' lives. It makes me wonder if God is shifting those pieces first to get my heart in shape. On the one hand, it strikes me as perfect because it's not me triggering the change; I'm the passive recipient. Just what I prefer. However, once again I dread these changes. I want my rectangular table!

My fears make me want to scream sometimes. I hate being bound by them. I hate fearing change, because I know it's one more thing that separates me from the full joy and peace of a relationship with Christ. And yet there is something in this that is apparently a part of my make-up. God made me with this bent. It doesn't mean I should wallow in it and take it as it is, though. Rather, I need to seek Him, and continually give my fear and frustration to Him--over and over again. And perhaps when I am old and gray I will have grown to the point where I can immediately rejoice in the round table. And perhaps it will take till I get to heaven. In any case, it keeps me leaning on Him, and that, when it all boils down to it, is the best position to be in.

Understanding the Big Picture

I love stories. I love seeing my kids’ eyes light up when they listen to good stories. And the best stories, I think, are the ones that give a glimmer of something more than. It doesn’t have to be laid out like Aesop’s Fables, “And the moral of the story is...,” but the best stories are definitely the ones that have more to them than a plot-line.

And the greatest story of all is, no question, the story of God’s Big Rescue Plan. Most of us know something of this story, and we hear a good bit about it around Christmas. But usually we only hear one part: Jesus, God’s Son, is born on a starry night and laid in a feeding trough. If we’re more knowledgeable, we know that this baby grows up to do all kinds of wonderful miracles and tell marvelous stories himself, but in the end he’s horribly murdered—for us!—and then, beyond comprehension, rises again!

So if that’s the main story of God’s Big Rescue Plan, what does the rest of the Bible have to do with it? Are the other stories in the Bible just there to give us guidance in how to live our lives (or how not to, as the case often is)? Most children’s books and videos that portray these stories seem to imply this. Two newer contributions to the wealth of kids’ books and videos, though, go a major step beyond the norm and bring out the full beauty and wealth of the greatest story out there.

First off is The Jesus Storybook Bible: Every Story Whispers His Name, by Sally Lloyd-Jones. We were introduced to this book in the fall of 2007, and I’ve lost count of how many times our family has read it through since. Colorful illustrations catch the eye of littlest ones, and the creative storytelling grasps the imaginations of kids as young as three or four…and as old as 90 or 100 J . Lloyd-Jones skillfully weaves the truth of Jesus and God’s Big Rescue Plan from Adam & Eve through Revelation. Not every part of the Bible is covered, of course, but each story included shows a connection to Christ. The way she puts things has grabbed my heart more times than I can say. It has deeply affected how my kids see Jesus and heaven, and their place in the big picture. You can find this book at Family Christian Stores, though I’ve found it’s cheaper through Amazon.

Secondly, a new video series, What’s In the Bible?, has been a huge hit at our house this year. The creator of this series is Phil Vischer, otherwise known as “Bob the Tomato” of VeggieTales fame. In these new videos, you don’t have talking vegetables, but rather an eclectic cast of puppets who dig into the Bible and pull out some fascinating stuff. It’s full of the type of humor you find in VeggieTales, along with fun, catchy songs and silly cartoons. At the same time, it lays the Bible out clearly without ignoring some of the tough questions like “What is salvation?” “What is the Trinity?” “Why does God tell the Israelites to kill people? Isn’t He the God of love?” And once again, woven through is God’s Big Rescue Plan. So far six videos have been put out in this series, and they’ve made it through 1 & 2 Chronicles in the Old Testament. It looks like there will be about thirteen videos in the end, and they’re coming out quickly. If you want to find out more about this series, or watch other videos with the characters, check out http://www.jellytelly.com/ and http://whatsinthebible.com/. I just discovered, too, that there’s a new stand-alone video called Buck Denver asks Why Do We Call It Christmas? I want to see it!!!

 

So there you have it! Quality stuff to check out for the Christmas season. Your kids will love it, and you’ll probably enjoy it as well!

It's Here! It's Here!

I'm a sucker for good kids' music, and when I say "good" I mean music that has great songs for the kids to enjoy, but also has things I enjoy. So yes, good is very subjective! ...But really, you can't go wrong with Slugs &Bugs, and I'm thrilled that the new album, Slugs & Bugs Under Where? is now out.

I've been trying to find the right word to sum up why I like the Slugs & Bugs music as much as I do...and there's no one word. The songs are whimsical, catchy, hilarious, lovely, thought-provoking, simple, deep--any of these words will describe one or more of the songs. There's a childlike innocence that permeates the songs, but there are truths that pop out and whop this "grown up" over the head. Random silliness is set beside moments of eye-opening truth, just like my everyday life with my kids. My kids love the tunes, and we all can sing them, elaborate on them, etc. In the past year since discovering Slugs & Bugs & Lullabies, I've happily spread it around to infect friends' and family's children. I apologize if you've been a recipient (well, actually, I don't!).

One of the things I've loved about both the first album, and even more the newest, is the broad spectrum of musical styles. I like variety, and appreciate it, though unfortunately I'm not educated enough to define all of it--I just know it's well done. In Slugs & Bugs Under Where? Randy Goodgame, along with a host of talented artists, incorporates (to name a few) New Orleans street jazz, Asian themes, African themes, classical, klezmer, Beach Boys, arena rock and Queen. And some of those are all in one song, "Mexican Rhapsody," that you can listen to here.

The touch is light. Don't expect the glitz and rock of Go Fish, which, speaking of, my kids and I like. Their lyrics are great, and we love to bop around to it now and then. But their tag line, "Great music for kids that won't drive parents bonkers," just doesn't apply to me. After one listen-through of an album, I'm done or I will go bonkers. It's just not my style. On the other hand, the deceptive simplicity of Slugs & Bugs keeps me, my husband, and my kids coming back for more. The other day my four-year-old wanted to hear Go Fish, so we had an album on for a run-through. I couldn't help but smile later, though, when she trotted around repeatedly singing, not a Go Fish lyric, but "Rooster, rooster, rooster, you're a cockadoodle-dooster," from Slugs & Bugs "Mexican Rhapsody." Tonight it was "I am very, very capable of anger.... Tell it to Jesus, he already knows. Tell it to Jesus, before it grows." ...I think I've mentioned in a previous post that I'm fully in favor of brainwashing my children....

So if you're looking for a treat for your kids (and whole family) for Christmas, these are some albums worth getting.

The Continuing Saga of Giant Chompchucks (and Various Other Characters)

If you thought that the evil Giant Chompchucks had faded into the nether regions, think again. He was killed again just today (key word: "again"). I don't think anything will hold this creature down....

But then, he apparently doesn't hold anything else down either.

The other day, Ev went into full-Chompchucks mode as we walked home from picking Clare up at school. Chompchucks (who lives in a cave on the other side of our subdivision pond--"See, Mom? You can see it right over there!") carried off the beautiful, kind Princess Lalala...and killed her!

"Oh no!" I said, "Did they have a funeral to mourn her?"

"Yes."

"Did she have a Prince she was going to marry?"

"Not going to marry. She was married to a Prince. His name was...his name was 'Samuel.'"

"That's so sad," I said (really meaning it, as much as one can when speaking of imaginary people). "Did Chompchucks eat the Princess?" (After all, this is his modus aperandi.)

"No," said Ev, "Prince Samuel rescued her body from Giant Chompchucks. He got there, just after she was killed, and he grabbed her body."

"Wow, he was very brave. But that's so sad that she died."

"It's okay. He got married again."

Apparently Prince Samuel married Princess Cinderella, and at this point Ev became Cinderella and I had to talk to her as such for the next few hours. At one point, the saga took a soap-operatic turn when Ev (I mean, Cinderella) came into the kitchen sparkling.

"Guess what!" she said, "Princess Lalala is alive!"

Apparently she didn't see the ramifications of this, so I gently counseled her. "Isn't that a problem? I mean, aren't you married to Prince Samuel now?"

"Yes, but he's married to both of us."

"Um, yeh, but he can't be married to two people at once." (I realize I am brainwashing my child with my biblical worldview. It is very deliberate.)

But this didn't stump Ev. "Then she's married to someone else now. Another prince." His name, as it turned out, is Prince Caspian, and so far they're all living happily ever after.

In the meantime, Clare complained that I was talking to Ev more than her. "Well, talk to me," I said, "and I'll talk to you. Tell me your story."

So Clare told me her saga which involved a Prince with magic powers who could kill Chompchucks and all the "bad guys" just by saying it. "He can kill a trillion people at once! All he has to do is say, 'Die.'"

"But if you're beside him, and he says 'Die,' won't you die too?" I asked.

"No, only the people on the other team."

And there you have it. I'll let you know if something more comes out of this.