Indulgence and convenience breeds the instant-gratification and entitlement mentality. – me
I sat on the edge of my bed crying my eyes out, hoping that none of the children would hear me. Crying out to God, I asked Him “Why?! Why don’t we have the money? Why don’t we have the opportunities? Are we doing the right thing by home schooling instead of enrolling them in the programs at the local high school?”
Just the other day, I had been talking to a friend from church. Her kids went to the local school and she was constantly bragging about this football game or that gymnastics meet. Her kids were taking ballet lessons and playing on the basket ball team. She seemed to be taking them everywhere and was talking to me about starting them in piano lessons. It sounded like all her kids were thriving and pursuing their dreams with mom making sure they got everything that they needed to succeed.
Thus the pity party. We didn’t have the money to enroll them in piano lessons or have them take ballet or gymnastics even though my girls had expressed the desire to do some of those things. My son wanted to take guitar lessons and the other son wanted to learn Taekwondo or Judo. Not only did I not have the money, but I couldn’t take the time away from the littlest ones and my home day care to drive them to these different things. That day I was questioning our decision to educate them at home with our limited resources instead of enrolling them in the high school where they could play sports, participate in band and explore their interests.
A couple of days later, I took the kids to the dentist. As we were waiting in the reception area, I happened to pick up a magazine they had on the table. Thumbing through it, I came to an article about parents who give their kids everything. The author had interviewed several affluent families who had made sure that their kids got all the instruments, cars and electronics that they wanted. In these families were stories about neglected instruments when the kids lost interest, automobile accidents due to carelessness, and the attitude in the children that they were “entitled” to these things and that they “deserved” to have what they wanted. After mom and dad quit footing the bill, these kids were lost, insecure and bitter because they now had to work in order to get what mom and dad had just given them. The light went on and suddenly, the pity party ended.
God had answered my questions. He had graciously pointed out to me that we had made the right decision and we now had to trust Him. He would see “that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.” (Rom 8:28). This changed my whole attitude and thought process toward my children’s desires and we decided to take a different track regarding them. Here were opportunities to teach our children eternal values – values that would stay with them throughout their lives and help them overcome obstacles and seize opportunities.
Contentment. God had us where we were for a purpose and in order to clearly see His purpose, we had to be content with what He had given us. We had a piano at the time (a bit out of tune) and my mother had given us her old guitar. I encouraged the kids to explore these instruments and see what they could do with them. My oldest son, Aaron, started playing by ear and my oldest daughter, Deanna, “wrote” her own song. Aaron took the guitar and spent hours in his room with a guitar chord chart he had found and taught himself to play several different songs. Deanna became familiar with the piano keys and spent time teaching her sisters to play her “song”.
Trusting God. When my son, Terence, came and asked me if he could take Judo lessons, I told him we would pray and ask God to bring that opportunity to us. Meanwhile, we would go to the Dojo right down the street and see what they charged for lessons. The Sensei invited Terence to come to one of the group sessions and because it was only a few blocks away, he could ride his skateboard over. God opened the door and the Sensei’s heart to Terence. Since he was the youngest in this class of police officers, he was allowed to attend these group sessions for free. He did that for about 9 months before we moved. God had taught us to trust Him. If we were willing to be faithful, He would bring opportunities to pursue the desires He had planted in our hearts.
Gratitude. When we moved to Van Horn, God provided an opportunity for my daughters to take piano lessons. At the time, He also provided the money and a piano. The girls faithfully (most of the time) pursued music for 3 years until our piano teacher moved away and we had to find a new home for the piano. But, because of the lessons, they could all now read music. We were grateful that God had provided this experience. Now, the girls take every opportunity to practice on the church piano and have used their skills to lead worship at church a time or two.
Determination. When Deanna came to me and said she wanted to learn everything she could about horses, I encouraged her to pray and ask God for the opportunity. That opportunity came through a friend in our home school group and she was able to spend a year working, training and riding horses. She plans to continue to pursue horses after college. It was hard work and she had to sacrifice a lot of time and do it even when she didn’t feel like it, but she was determined to learn all that she could.
Perseverance. We also learned that when God puts a drive or goal into our hearts, He will see it through regardless of our skill or resources. My other son, Adrian, has had a desire to write Rap music since he was 12. He has pursued that diligently with his own effort and resources – learning computer programs and buying electronic equipment a little at a time. God has been working in his heart for nine years (he is now 21) to reach teens in a whole new way by telling his own stories through his music. Even though he doesn’t read music at all, he has recently recorded his own album of songs and sold some of his music. God continues to open doors of opportunity for him to walk through.
Recently, my friend asked me how we could know if our children liked or had talent in some area if we didn’t give them the opportunity to try different things. My answer : “Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.” (Psa 37:4) God will plant those desires (likes and talents) into their hearts and then provide opportunities to pursue them if we seek Him. I see God working in my children’s lives all the time. He has planted desires in their hearts for His purpose and has helped them work toward that purpose step by step.
Through our inability to give them everything, they have learned to trust God to follow through instead of expecting us to grant their wishes. Through deprivation, they have learned to work toward what God has purposed for them. Through hardship and lack of resources, they have learned to be determined and diligent. Because of their lack, they have learned more about contentment and gratitude. It is these things that will be of the most value as they continue to live according to His purpose.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
Getting Busy
“My philosophy was that if I could keep you busy, you’d stay out of trouble.” -- my mom.
This morning I look around the large dining room table. All five of us are sitting with books in front of us studying and scribbling. (I say “us” because I am usually learning just as much as the kids are.) Most of us are doing Math and I am helping our “adopted son”, Ricky, do his Geometry. Deanna is studying her Psychology book for her dual credit class.
A few moments go by and suddenly Deanna gets a light in her eye. “Hey, guys! Who wants to take a Psych quiz?” We can hear the zing in her voice. The rest of us look up and I hear around the table, “Sure!” (Anything to get a reprieve from math!). She starts with the first True or False question and that sparks a mini-discussion on the inner workings of the human brain. After the quiz and debate, we all go back to our scribbling and math.
Over the years, my approach to home schooling has changed. I remember when we started our first year. My oldest son was beginning 9th grade and the youngest was still digging in the dirt with mom’s spoons from the utensil drawer. That first home school day we gathered around the dining room table and said the Pledge of Allegiance and read our devotions. Then we started on the curriculum that I had purchased from the home school convention that we had attended over the summer. I was determined to do school the “right” way!
Three months later, the curriculum (for History) was pretty much tossed out and we were sprawled on the living room couches and floor reading aloud and playing Legos. Even the 9th grader was reading and doing an art project (instead of the research paper that the curriculum had called for). A few months later the kids could all recite Romans Chapter 8 from memory, but didn’t have a clue when the Revolutionary War had begun. We belonged to a Co-op and were memorizing our lines for the Shakespeare play instead of doing that Spelling book I’d purchased. We were all busy doing stuff and playing it by ear.
Because I started home schooling in the state of Maine, we had to have our children’s progress evaluated by a “certified teacher” every year (this was before we helped to change the law). So, at the end of that year, I was trying to write down everything that we had learned. If it weren’t for my veteran home school buddy, I would have been pulling out my hair. I knew we had all been busy doing things, but did they learn? I was sure I hadn’t taught anything!! We hadn’t finished ANY text book (except my oldest son had finished his Algebra 1 book, but not every page), we hadn’t done “school” they way I knew school, and I was positive that we were going to fail our “evaluation”.
My patient, practical, sweet friend came to my rescue. She pointed out to me that home schooling wasn’t “school at home” and that there were many more ways to learn than textbooks. She helped me put together a list of all of the books we had read together, reminded me about the “field trips” we had taken, showed me how to list all of the “projects” we had done (which I had thought were just playing and having fun), informed me that our watching the News coverage of 9/11 and subsequent discussion and prayer were, in fact, Current Events, and reminded me that my little girls could now read. Imagine that!! We had all learned lots of things that year.
The second year was totally different from the first. We used the same History Unit Study, but approached it a little differently. The older ones had desks that they never used. The hallway had a big white board hanging on one of the walls that we used sometimes. Our Co-op classes were our “core” classes and we did a lot of reading and more projects at home. The kids worked in their math books (mainly because we had met the author during the summer at the Convention), did “copy work” in their journals, memorized more Shakespeare and played in the back yard with their friends. We went on hikes, did some camping, took pictures, and watched some historical films. Basically, we just kept everyone busy.
Since then, I have realized that every year is going to be different. Not only do the children get older, learn more stuff, and have more responsibility; but so do I. The third year we invented some of our own curriculum, did Music Appreciation and attempted a time line (Time Lines never seemed to work for us). We added Latin to the list and decided that it was kinda fun. Each year after that has always changed.
I remember one year we did some of our “classes” on the front porch with a few extra kids thrown in the mix. One year we all had desks set up in the living room (which meant there was no room for couches). Another year, we all had “stations” in the den, but did most of our studying in the kitchen, on the living room floor or on the beds in our rooms. There was one year that I woke up at 7, went into the girl’s room and read aloud to them for 2 hours before we even started the day. Yet, everyone learned; everyone grew; and everyone did well.
Today, we just got rid of almost all of the desks that had been set up in our large front entry-way. The girls and I decided that we liked sitting around the dining room table and just keeping the books on the buffet table. (We easily find alternate uses for most of our furniture and living space.) I hung a medium-sized white board on one of the walls for our Greek and Grammar lessons and plugged in a “boom box” for our World History on CDs. I’m pretty sure that our “school-room” doesn’t look anything like a public school classroom; nor do our methods look anything like public school methods. But, for us, the dining room table, white board and “boom box” do the trick – this year.
“Mom, I need your help.” Mikayla was looking at her Math page. I went around the table and we both looked at the problem together. “Read it aloud to me.” I ordered. She did. Then the light went on in her eyes. “Never mind, mom, I get it.” And she started scribbling in her notebook. “Great! Glad I could help!” whispering as I walk back around the table to complete their lists for today.
A few minutes later, Deanna gets up from the table and stacks her books into a pile. “I’m going to check on the puppies,” she announces and goes out the back door. Leilani stacks her books and heads for the living room couch. “I’m going to read my book!” she informs us as she plops down with her feet up. Mik starts to stack her books, too. “Wait a minute!” I give her one of my I-know-you’re-trying-to-get-away looks. “Did you finish two pages?” She sighs deeply and opens her book again. “I hate Math!” she mutters. My response as I put the list on the center of the table: “Too bad, so sad! Get busy!”
“I never teach my pupils; I only attempt to provide the conditions in which they can learn.” ~ Albert Einstein
“You can teach a student a lesson for a day; but if you can teach him to learn by creating curiosity, he will continue the learning process as long as he lives.“ ~Clay P. Bedford
“In doing we learn.”~ George Herbert
Monday, August 15, 2011
Bigger Things
“Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point.” C. S. Lewis
One of the things I love about home schooling is that we have the time to do all kinds of things together. None of us, teacher or student, is stuck in a classroom all day waiting for the other to catch up or get the worksheets done. We can actually go out and help our sons and daughters conquer the world, which involves courage in taking risks and facing failures. We can model this thing called “trusting God” and help them do the same. This, after all, is the ultimate goal of teaching our children at home isn’t it? I can’t think of a better time or a better place to take risks, face failures and trust God than with my children while they still live at home.
Sitting on the top rail of the enclosure, I watched my daughter, Deanna, work with her horse. Standing in the center with the lead in one hand and a special “handy stick” in the other, she gave cues and made the animal do several different things. Here she was, so small compared to the horse, and the horse was doing everything she “told” her to do. It was amazing.
A few minutes into the demonstration, my youngest daughter, Leilani, came up to the rail. Looking up at me, she said, “Mom, can I drive the car around the outside of the arena? Just a few times? Please?” She was still too young to get her permit, but she was determined to know how to drive as soon as possible. “Ok,” I replied, and gave her the keys. “Just go slow and be very careful!” Smiling wide, she took the keys and the next thing I knew, the car was pulling off around the dirt track.
I turned my attention back to Deanna and Rasha. The mare was giving her a little trouble and Deanna was “getting after” her. Again, I was struck by the fact that Rasha was so much bigger than this teen and could easily run her over or pull her around. And yet, that is not what was happening. Rasha was trying attentively to understand what Deanna wanted and to do it. But there was the risk: that Deanna would be hurt.
The white of the Toyota caught my eye as Leilani drove a little quicker than I would like around the dirt track. She slowed down as she came around the curve to drive back toward me. It dawned on me that I may be taking a risk in allowing her to drive. Although, she really couldn’t hurt anything even if she did run into the hay bales, she was still just a little girl and the car was a big piece of machinery.
Needless to say, I was a little bit stressed: keeping an eye on Deanna, who had been working with Rasha alone for the last 3 months, and keeping an eye on Leilani as she drove around. I comforted myself with the fact that in order to have the courage to deal with things larger than themselves, they had to have practice – even if they might get hurt. They needed opportunities to trust God with the unknowns. Someday it was not going to be just a horse and a car. Someday it was going to be a marriage or a job or a child. If they had the courage and confidence with the horse and the car, then when the time came for the other challenges, they would be able to face them without fear knowing that God would be there. But it didn’t take all of my stress away.
I remember something my mother told me when my kids were toddlers. We were at the park one day and I was running around managing several little 2, 3 and 4 year olds with my mother’s help. Deanna was only about 15 months at the time, but she was walking and running around the playground determined to keep up with her brothers and playmates. As she watched her brother slide down the big slide, she decided that she could do it, too. My first instinct was to go and stop her from climbing up, but my mother touched my arm and said, “Be there, but let her try if she thinks she can do it. She knows what her body can do.” So, I spotted her as she climbed and then ran to the bottom of the slide to catch her when she came down. Whoosh! Suddenly, I had a very giggly little girl in my arms saying, “Again! Again!”
Now, she was conquering horse training with the same determination and fearlessness. With confidence, she was commanding the attention of a being larger than herself and learning the way to communicate patiently. Her trust in God seemed instinctive as the “spirit of power and a sound mind” showed up in her tone of voice and easy stance.
Leilani had parked the car and Deanna was now eliciting her help with Rasha. Leilani was given the lead and the “handy stick” and shown what to do. Deanna was now going to ride Rasha for the first time. She coached Leilani through the commands and allowed her to do it by herself a few times.
“Ok,” she called to Leilani. “Let me get up in the saddle. You hold the lead.” And up she went. Rasha was a little nervous, but obediently attended to Leilani’s commands as her ears swiveled between the girl in front and the voice behind. But, because of Deanna’s patience, Rasha was ready to have a rider and did very well. Meanwhile, I gripped the rail so tight my knuckles turned white and I think I bit my lip. But I was determined to model the trusting God part.
That evening I told Papa all about the adventures of the day. He was amazed and proud of his daughters and told them so. When we prayed, we thanked God for being there for them…and for me. May the Lord give me courage for the next adventure, conquering the “bigger things” along with my children.
For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
2Ti 1:7
Some trust in chariots, and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the LORD our God. Psa 20:7
Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. Psa 37:5
One of the things I love about home schooling is that we have the time to do all kinds of things together. None of us, teacher or student, is stuck in a classroom all day waiting for the other to catch up or get the worksheets done. We can actually go out and help our sons and daughters conquer the world, which involves courage in taking risks and facing failures. We can model this thing called “trusting God” and help them do the same. This, after all, is the ultimate goal of teaching our children at home isn’t it? I can’t think of a better time or a better place to take risks, face failures and trust God than with my children while they still live at home.
Sitting on the top rail of the enclosure, I watched my daughter, Deanna, work with her horse. Standing in the center with the lead in one hand and a special “handy stick” in the other, she gave cues and made the animal do several different things. Here she was, so small compared to the horse, and the horse was doing everything she “told” her to do. It was amazing.
A few minutes into the demonstration, my youngest daughter, Leilani, came up to the rail. Looking up at me, she said, “Mom, can I drive the car around the outside of the arena? Just a few times? Please?” She was still too young to get her permit, but she was determined to know how to drive as soon as possible. “Ok,” I replied, and gave her the keys. “Just go slow and be very careful!” Smiling wide, she took the keys and the next thing I knew, the car was pulling off around the dirt track.
I turned my attention back to Deanna and Rasha. The mare was giving her a little trouble and Deanna was “getting after” her. Again, I was struck by the fact that Rasha was so much bigger than this teen and could easily run her over or pull her around. And yet, that is not what was happening. Rasha was trying attentively to understand what Deanna wanted and to do it. But there was the risk: that Deanna would be hurt.
The white of the Toyota caught my eye as Leilani drove a little quicker than I would like around the dirt track. She slowed down as she came around the curve to drive back toward me. It dawned on me that I may be taking a risk in allowing her to drive. Although, she really couldn’t hurt anything even if she did run into the hay bales, she was still just a little girl and the car was a big piece of machinery.
Needless to say, I was a little bit stressed: keeping an eye on Deanna, who had been working with Rasha alone for the last 3 months, and keeping an eye on Leilani as she drove around. I comforted myself with the fact that in order to have the courage to deal with things larger than themselves, they had to have practice – even if they might get hurt. They needed opportunities to trust God with the unknowns. Someday it was not going to be just a horse and a car. Someday it was going to be a marriage or a job or a child. If they had the courage and confidence with the horse and the car, then when the time came for the other challenges, they would be able to face them without fear knowing that God would be there. But it didn’t take all of my stress away.
I remember something my mother told me when my kids were toddlers. We were at the park one day and I was running around managing several little 2, 3 and 4 year olds with my mother’s help. Deanna was only about 15 months at the time, but she was walking and running around the playground determined to keep up with her brothers and playmates. As she watched her brother slide down the big slide, she decided that she could do it, too. My first instinct was to go and stop her from climbing up, but my mother touched my arm and said, “Be there, but let her try if she thinks she can do it. She knows what her body can do.” So, I spotted her as she climbed and then ran to the bottom of the slide to catch her when she came down. Whoosh! Suddenly, I had a very giggly little girl in my arms saying, “Again! Again!”
Now, she was conquering horse training with the same determination and fearlessness. With confidence, she was commanding the attention of a being larger than herself and learning the way to communicate patiently. Her trust in God seemed instinctive as the “spirit of power and a sound mind” showed up in her tone of voice and easy stance.
Leilani had parked the car and Deanna was now eliciting her help with Rasha. Leilani was given the lead and the “handy stick” and shown what to do. Deanna was now going to ride Rasha for the first time. She coached Leilani through the commands and allowed her to do it by herself a few times.
“Ok,” she called to Leilani. “Let me get up in the saddle. You hold the lead.” And up she went. Rasha was a little nervous, but obediently attended to Leilani’s commands as her ears swiveled between the girl in front and the voice behind. But, because of Deanna’s patience, Rasha was ready to have a rider and did very well. Meanwhile, I gripped the rail so tight my knuckles turned white and I think I bit my lip. But I was determined to model the trusting God part.
That evening I told Papa all about the adventures of the day. He was amazed and proud of his daughters and told them so. When we prayed, we thanked God for being there for them…and for me. May the Lord give me courage for the next adventure, conquering the “bigger things” along with my children.
For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
2Ti 1:7
Some trust in chariots, and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the LORD our God. Psa 20:7
Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. Psa 37:5
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Bringer of Light
My son, Aaron, and his wife, Stephanie, have faced a few challenges in their fairly new marriage. I'm so glad that he has been willing to turn to the Lord in these times and gain new perspective by listening to the Holy Spirit. The world wants us to believe that new life only begins at birth, but we know, through the Word, that new life begins much sooner. Aaron and Stephanie acknowledge this and are blessed in their walk toward the Cross. What follows is their story:
STORY ABOUT OUR MISCARRIAGE:
So Steph had the miscarriage, but what followed the news was what was so encouraging.
Most dad's don't "own" their child until they get to hold her for the first time.The moment their eyes meet, he feels like a dad and waves of joy and responsibility wash over him like an overwhelming peaceful weight. Well, when Steph told me she was pregnant, I got excited and I bought a leather-bound journal and immediately started writing to the baby. I told her I was nervous and excited and told her the current gas prices, who is president, the cost of a candy bar, what her mother and I were preparing for so that she would be protected and loved the moment she arrived.
When we had the miscarriage and all of that shattered. I didn't realize I had withdrawn, until Stephanie expressed concern; but for three days I had disconnected from the rest of the family here. Steph and I had separated a bit and my relationships became business - getting jobs done. On the third evening, Steph told me to sit next to her on the bed. She said she feared that I hadn't cried a release of our baby and I was still holding on to it. I think deep down I knew I hadn't released her, but I didn't want to and I played it off as if she wasn't real, just a fetus and not a real person and that I was crazy to be excited over something so insignificant.
I sat with her and prayed. About 15 minutes passed and I was crying aloud, cradled in Stephanie's arms. (She is so loving!) I had helped her with her coping, but I hadn't paid much attention to me. Steph said that she would like it if we prayed for a release in our hearts, not a severance of our relationship with the baby, but a release of the pain of not having her here. Well we did, which spurred more tears. Steph said she had prayed earlier that week and asked God for her name, and He gave her "Alina," which means Bringer of Light. Well, we also prayed that The Lord Jesus would keep her safe and allow us to see her.
This is where the story gets good! I prayed those words, and Jesus put me in the presence of His Grace. I'm actually tearing up now writing this. I was standing in the throne room, where Alina sat in the throne, playing a life-sized cello. Her small child's hand struggled to press down the strings and move the bow at the same time. My logic kicked in and I couldn't know how she was holding it up, until I looked back behind her and the throne where Jesus stood over her, holding up the neck of the cello with one hand and resting the other on her shoulder. She was so beautiful.... is so beautiful. When I saw her playing this, she looked up and saw me. Her expression was one of complete and serene joy. She gave me a hug, in which I felt all the love I have never felt here on earth... the purest love. I bent down and felt so guilty because deep down I think I thought it was my fault (probably a hurt I need to face some day). She grieved in front of me, and I think she noticed my pain. She said not to worry about her, and that she would be waiting for me and her mother in heaven. She then got excited.
"Look at where I am, daddy," she said with her arms gesturing to the atmosphere, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"What?" Steph asked and I told her what I had seen. For about an hour or so, Steph and I cried and laughed together about the experience.
Most dad's don't get to own their baby until they carry her for the first time. I was a dad for only a short while, but I was a dad. When I see our three kids or however many God deems to give us, I will always see one more than what we have on earth. She really did bring light into our lives even though she was with us for just a short time...and she still does.
Stephanie feels closer to her mother now, since her mom had a miscarriage before as well. Stephanie and I grew more intimate together - able to reach places with each other we weren't reaching before. We have a testimony that I can tell men who have children, are about to have a child, or maybe even lost a loved one. I told this story at church one Sunday in front of the congregation. God touched quite a few men in the room by what I experienced. I remember a lady coming up to me and telling me that she couldn't remember the last time her husband cried, considering he's a "man's man," and dutiful men don't cry; but found himself asking her for the tissues on her other side.
We decided to keep the journal and keep writing to Alina anyway; and we have written to her since then. She seems to be our 'angel' we talk to when the going gets tough sometimes. We asked her to petition to God with us to protect this new baby (now that Steph is pregnant again), and that we miss her.
I love you, Alina, and your mother and I will see you someday.
_____
And now, Stephanie is pregnant again. I won't be stagnant and void of joyful emotion. I will take the gift our Lord Jesus gave us and be evermore excited about this baby, too. I bought a journal last night, and Steph and I wrote to the baby for the first time. I will be filled with joy and constantly pray for God's favor upon our lives, as He has been providing for us as long as I have released it to Him.
The moment you let it go (whatever trial that is), is the moment Jesus can pick it up. Wouldn't you rather he held the weight? After all, isn't that what He died for?
-Aaron
Love you guys and be praying for this pregnancy!
STORY ABOUT OUR MISCARRIAGE:
So Steph had the miscarriage, but what followed the news was what was so encouraging.
Most dad's don't "own" their child until they get to hold her for the first time.The moment their eyes meet, he feels like a dad and waves of joy and responsibility wash over him like an overwhelming peaceful weight. Well, when Steph told me she was pregnant, I got excited and I bought a leather-bound journal and immediately started writing to the baby. I told her I was nervous and excited and told her the current gas prices, who is president, the cost of a candy bar, what her mother and I were preparing for so that she would be protected and loved the moment she arrived.
When we had the miscarriage and all of that shattered. I didn't realize I had withdrawn, until Stephanie expressed concern; but for three days I had disconnected from the rest of the family here. Steph and I had separated a bit and my relationships became business - getting jobs done. On the third evening, Steph told me to sit next to her on the bed. She said she feared that I hadn't cried a release of our baby and I was still holding on to it. I think deep down I knew I hadn't released her, but I didn't want to and I played it off as if she wasn't real, just a fetus and not a real person and that I was crazy to be excited over something so insignificant.
I sat with her and prayed. About 15 minutes passed and I was crying aloud, cradled in Stephanie's arms. (She is so loving!) I had helped her with her coping, but I hadn't paid much attention to me. Steph said that she would like it if we prayed for a release in our hearts, not a severance of our relationship with the baby, but a release of the pain of not having her here. Well we did, which spurred more tears. Steph said she had prayed earlier that week and asked God for her name, and He gave her "Alina," which means Bringer of Light. Well, we also prayed that The Lord Jesus would keep her safe and allow us to see her.
This is where the story gets good! I prayed those words, and Jesus put me in the presence of His Grace. I'm actually tearing up now writing this. I was standing in the throne room, where Alina sat in the throne, playing a life-sized cello. Her small child's hand struggled to press down the strings and move the bow at the same time. My logic kicked in and I couldn't know how she was holding it up, until I looked back behind her and the throne where Jesus stood over her, holding up the neck of the cello with one hand and resting the other on her shoulder. She was so beautiful.... is so beautiful. When I saw her playing this, she looked up and saw me. Her expression was one of complete and serene joy. She gave me a hug, in which I felt all the love I have never felt here on earth... the purest love. I bent down and felt so guilty because deep down I think I thought it was my fault (probably a hurt I need to face some day). She grieved in front of me, and I think she noticed my pain. She said not to worry about her, and that she would be waiting for me and her mother in heaven. She then got excited.
"Look at where I am, daddy," she said with her arms gesturing to the atmosphere, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"What?" Steph asked and I told her what I had seen. For about an hour or so, Steph and I cried and laughed together about the experience.
Most dad's don't get to own their baby until they carry her for the first time. I was a dad for only a short while, but I was a dad. When I see our three kids or however many God deems to give us, I will always see one more than what we have on earth. She really did bring light into our lives even though she was with us for just a short time...and she still does.
Stephanie feels closer to her mother now, since her mom had a miscarriage before as well. Stephanie and I grew more intimate together - able to reach places with each other we weren't reaching before. We have a testimony that I can tell men who have children, are about to have a child, or maybe even lost a loved one. I told this story at church one Sunday in front of the congregation. God touched quite a few men in the room by what I experienced. I remember a lady coming up to me and telling me that she couldn't remember the last time her husband cried, considering he's a "man's man," and dutiful men don't cry; but found himself asking her for the tissues on her other side.
We decided to keep the journal and keep writing to Alina anyway; and we have written to her since then. She seems to be our 'angel' we talk to when the going gets tough sometimes. We asked her to petition to God with us to protect this new baby (now that Steph is pregnant again), and that we miss her.
I love you, Alina, and your mother and I will see you someday.
_____
And now, Stephanie is pregnant again. I won't be stagnant and void of joyful emotion. I will take the gift our Lord Jesus gave us and be evermore excited about this baby, too. I bought a journal last night, and Steph and I wrote to the baby for the first time. I will be filled with joy and constantly pray for God's favor upon our lives, as He has been providing for us as long as I have released it to Him.
The moment you let it go (whatever trial that is), is the moment Jesus can pick it up. Wouldn't you rather he held the weight? After all, isn't that what He died for?
-Aaron
Love you guys and be praying for this pregnancy!
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Influence & Inspiration
Stories live in your blood and bones, follow the seasons and light candles on the darkest night-every storyteller knows she or he is also a teacher... —Patti Davis
Papa sat on one of the beds in the room while the three boys listened with rapt attention to his storytelling. He was weaving an exciting tale of Kingdom Eromlig and its three brave knights: Aaron the Great, Adrian the Swift and Terence the Smart. He had come to the part where they were going out to choose their noble steeds. “Mine is black, right?” piped up Adrian from is spot on the bottom bunk, “with wings!” “And mine is white!” Aaron practically shouted from under his covers. “What color is mine, dad?” asked Terence as he leaned over the top bunk rail. “Yours is brown like chocolate!” said Papa. The three pairs of eyes sparkled as he continued the story: “The three Knights mounted their noble steeds and galloped out of the castle and across the drawbridge to rescue Princess Deanna from the Dragon! The King watched them go from the ramparts because he had to stay behind and protect Queen Sheila and baby Mikayla in case the Dragon came back. But just before they got across the drawbridge the King shouted: ‘Be brave! Be wise! And, Adrian: don’t climb any trees!!’” At that, the whole room dissolved into laughter.
Stories were a big part of our children’s younger years. Ralph began telling the tales of Kingdom Eromlig (Gilmore backwards) before bedtimes when they were just 3 and 6. Papa wanted to inspire them to become Knightly and chivalrous; to become all that God had for them. That was part of the reason for the names: Aaron the Great, Adrian the Swift and Terence the Smart. Ralph wanted to motivate them to become those things, look at life as an adventure, and appreciate all the hilarity in every day. Thus his stories were always peppered with farting, mud fights and allusions to the “throne room”. Well, what could I expect from a room full of boys?
Sometimes, if there were fights amongst the boys, the story at the end of the day would be about how the Knights dealt with their disagreements and how they resolved things. Other times, Ralph would encourage the boys to make up their own adventure – tell where he went or what he did – and Papa would finish the tale with lots of funny stuff thrown in. The Rescue of the Princess, the Search for the Golden Ring and The Friendly Dragon became stories that were told and retold many times by Papa or the boys.
At one point, we even got them some costumes with plastic helmets, swords, shields and breastplates. They would go out into the front yard and have a “battle”, calling out their “moves” like one would call out the plays in a football game. I realized early on that we would never have new furniture or coffee tables in the living room. Nothing was safe when the swords came out and the “fighting” began.
Because Ralph was in the Navy at the time, he didn’t get to spend much time with the boys and bedtime stories were precious. These were the moments when Papa spent “real” time with the kids; when they could be a part of his life and he theirs.
When the girls came along, they wanted “their” story. So Papa came up with the Adventures of DeeDee, MeeMee and LeeLee – three little squirrels that lived in a tree in the middle of a public park. They would have adventures with Timmy Turtle, Tom the Turkey, Mama Squirrel and Mr. Owl, who only said “WhOOO”. They still remember the adventures: MeeMee and the Donut, The Turkey for Dinner, The Swimming Fountain, and many others. They still ask Papa to tell a story every now and then, and they are 14, 16 and 18 now.
I knew that stories have an impact on our lives and I knew that stories are a good way to teach lessons about morality. Just look at how Jesus taught his disciples. There are no “How To” books that can take the place of a really good story. But, it was only recently that I found out what an impact Papa’s stories had had on our boys.
This past Father’s Day, Ralph got a card in the mail from Aaron, our oldest and now 25. It was the first Father’s Day card Papa had ever received that wasn’t prompted by Mom’s or someone’s reminder. In it was a sweet letter from his son telling him how glad he was that Papa had been his father and that his stories had made a real impact on his life: “Your stories of Knights and honor and the passion that you evoked upon telling each of your impromptu scenes when we were kids have made a direct impact on who I’ve become. Besides that, your childlike heart to be more than a provider made you more than a Father. When I talk to Father God, I have fun with Him and dance in His presence.”
I never realized that the storytelling that Papa did helped shape who God became in the eyes of his sons. No father can be perfect and there were many ways in which Ralph was not the best father; but in this he was great! It’s not just the story but the storyteller himself who became a model.
It gives me shivers of pleasure knowing that when my children have children of their own, they will tell stories of chivalry and honor just as Papa did. And I know that Papa will probably make up some more stories so that each of his grandchildren can have “theirs”. I can’t wait to see what he will come up with next…maybe this time I can write some of them down.
The destiny of the world is determined less by the battles that are lost and won than by the stories it loves and believes in. —Harold Goddard
And they will tell it to the inhabitants of this land: for they have heard that thou LORD art among this people, that thou LORD art seen face to face, and that thy cloud standeth over them, and that thou goest before them, by day time in a pillar of a cloud, and in a pillar of fire by night. Num 14:14 (From the Greatest Story: The Bible)
Papa sat on one of the beds in the room while the three boys listened with rapt attention to his storytelling. He was weaving an exciting tale of Kingdom Eromlig and its three brave knights: Aaron the Great, Adrian the Swift and Terence the Smart. He had come to the part where they were going out to choose their noble steeds. “Mine is black, right?” piped up Adrian from is spot on the bottom bunk, “with wings!” “And mine is white!” Aaron practically shouted from under his covers. “What color is mine, dad?” asked Terence as he leaned over the top bunk rail. “Yours is brown like chocolate!” said Papa. The three pairs of eyes sparkled as he continued the story: “The three Knights mounted their noble steeds and galloped out of the castle and across the drawbridge to rescue Princess Deanna from the Dragon! The King watched them go from the ramparts because he had to stay behind and protect Queen Sheila and baby Mikayla in case the Dragon came back. But just before they got across the drawbridge the King shouted: ‘Be brave! Be wise! And, Adrian: don’t climb any trees!!’” At that, the whole room dissolved into laughter.
Stories were a big part of our children’s younger years. Ralph began telling the tales of Kingdom Eromlig (Gilmore backwards) before bedtimes when they were just 3 and 6. Papa wanted to inspire them to become Knightly and chivalrous; to become all that God had for them. That was part of the reason for the names: Aaron the Great, Adrian the Swift and Terence the Smart. Ralph wanted to motivate them to become those things, look at life as an adventure, and appreciate all the hilarity in every day. Thus his stories were always peppered with farting, mud fights and allusions to the “throne room”. Well, what could I expect from a room full of boys?
Sometimes, if there were fights amongst the boys, the story at the end of the day would be about how the Knights dealt with their disagreements and how they resolved things. Other times, Ralph would encourage the boys to make up their own adventure – tell where he went or what he did – and Papa would finish the tale with lots of funny stuff thrown in. The Rescue of the Princess, the Search for the Golden Ring and The Friendly Dragon became stories that were told and retold many times by Papa or the boys.
At one point, we even got them some costumes with plastic helmets, swords, shields and breastplates. They would go out into the front yard and have a “battle”, calling out their “moves” like one would call out the plays in a football game. I realized early on that we would never have new furniture or coffee tables in the living room. Nothing was safe when the swords came out and the “fighting” began.
Because Ralph was in the Navy at the time, he didn’t get to spend much time with the boys and bedtime stories were precious. These were the moments when Papa spent “real” time with the kids; when they could be a part of his life and he theirs.
When the girls came along, they wanted “their” story. So Papa came up with the Adventures of DeeDee, MeeMee and LeeLee – three little squirrels that lived in a tree in the middle of a public park. They would have adventures with Timmy Turtle, Tom the Turkey, Mama Squirrel and Mr. Owl, who only said “WhOOO”. They still remember the adventures: MeeMee and the Donut, The Turkey for Dinner, The Swimming Fountain, and many others. They still ask Papa to tell a story every now and then, and they are 14, 16 and 18 now.
I knew that stories have an impact on our lives and I knew that stories are a good way to teach lessons about morality. Just look at how Jesus taught his disciples. There are no “How To” books that can take the place of a really good story. But, it was only recently that I found out what an impact Papa’s stories had had on our boys.
This past Father’s Day, Ralph got a card in the mail from Aaron, our oldest and now 25. It was the first Father’s Day card Papa had ever received that wasn’t prompted by Mom’s or someone’s reminder. In it was a sweet letter from his son telling him how glad he was that Papa had been his father and that his stories had made a real impact on his life: “Your stories of Knights and honor and the passion that you evoked upon telling each of your impromptu scenes when we were kids have made a direct impact on who I’ve become. Besides that, your childlike heart to be more than a provider made you more than a Father. When I talk to Father God, I have fun with Him and dance in His presence.”
I never realized that the storytelling that Papa did helped shape who God became in the eyes of his sons. No father can be perfect and there were many ways in which Ralph was not the best father; but in this he was great! It’s not just the story but the storyteller himself who became a model.
It gives me shivers of pleasure knowing that when my children have children of their own, they will tell stories of chivalry and honor just as Papa did. And I know that Papa will probably make up some more stories so that each of his grandchildren can have “theirs”. I can’t wait to see what he will come up with next…maybe this time I can write some of them down.
The destiny of the world is determined less by the battles that are lost and won than by the stories it loves and believes in. —Harold Goddard
And they will tell it to the inhabitants of this land: for they have heard that thou LORD art among this people, that thou LORD art seen face to face, and that thy cloud standeth over them, and that thou goest before them, by day time in a pillar of a cloud, and in a pillar of fire by night. Num 14:14 (From the Greatest Story: The Bible)
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Pretty Women
The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched, they must be felt with the heart.
Helen Keller
We took over the dressing room at Marshalls. The three girls, their three friends and I were each trying on several dresses for Easter. I went first, since I dress the fastest and had the fewest to try on. As I came out of my little temporary cubby (why do the mirrors in those things seem to accuse rather than flatter?), I was greeted with “O, mom, you look great!” “You’re so pretty!” “Mom, I love that dress!” Gratified, in spite of my thickening waist and sagging muscles, I put my own clothes back on and settled in the midst of them to “thumbs up” or “thumbs down” their choices.
They each put on a dress and came out for my inspection. If they didn’t really like it at all, they didn’t even bother showing me. But if they thought it was cute, they were out modeling it for me in the bigger mirror. One by one, the dresses either brought out their beauty or squelched it. Elizabeth looked wonderful in the cream sun dress which accented her red hair. Anneliese looked beautiful in the silk brown and green print…although we needed to find a jacket or something for her bare shoulders; but not in the little black number that clung to every curve. Leilani looked wonderful in the soft browns of her sundress which accented her eyes and hair; but not in short purple number with spaghetti straps. A couple of times, one of them would come out wearing something “hoochie mama!” and we’d all give it a thumbs down. The dress might be pretty, but it accented the wrong kind of beauty.
Deanna found a beautiful green print that made her look taller and slenderer with extra blue eyes. Mikayla found several that would have been pretty, but didn’t do her justice and so she ended up without a dress rather than wear something that cheapened her beauty or made it seem base.
After leaving the store, we visited friends, looked in on my son, Adrian, and went to the movies. Our group of pretty girls made quite a sight going in and out of the mall. I observed, even if the girls didn’t, that heads turned and eyes flashed in our direction as we passed. It made me puff out my chest and lead boldly – proud of my beautiful entourage.
But what made these young ladies so pretty? It wasn’t the jeans and the tennis shoes. It wasn’t the make-up, because they were wearing little to none. When I got to thinking about it, it was the way they walked confidently, smiled and joked with each other, spoke politely to the sales clerks, talked amongst themselves about what they saw in the shop windows and the way that they were totally unaware of the beauty that seemed to envelop them like a cloud.
In so many ways, beauty is intangible. Sometimes the most beautiful of women can shatter that outward mask with a cynical word or sly look. If we think of beauty as something only visible with the human eye, then the adage “beauty is only skin deep” is true. However, if we realize that true beauty is not so much what is visible to the eye, but what is sensed in the soul, we then realize that what is on the outside is only a fraction of the story.
The next day, Deanna was up with me early in the morning giving me her schedule for the day. “After I go feed the horses for Bob, I’m going to go help Irene (the elderly lady next door) with her house work. I don’t want to get a job until I know how much longer she will need me.” Irene had come to me a couple of weeks ago and asked if Deanna would be willing to help her until she moved in with her sister. Deanna had been glad to go over several days a week to clean, help her walk, and exercise some after a back injury. It seems that Deanna is frequently in demand to help someone move, do yard work, dog sit, etc.
Later that day, one of my clients was telling me about Mikayla, who had recently been hired at one of the local restaurants. “She is so cute. She leaves us little notes everywhere,” she told me. “Notes?” I asked. “Yes. She leaves us notes saying ‘thank you’ or ‘I love working with you’ and stuff like that,” she replied. Mikayla is a natural encourager, but I didn’t realize that she would do something so sweet for her co-workers. That night, Mik told me a little about how her work was going and asked me to pray for some of her friends.
My mother used to tell me, ‘Beauty is as beauty does’. I think my daughters are beautiful because of what they do – help others, encourage their friends, pray for one another – even if it takes work or doesn’t yield immediate results. No one is perfect and my daughters aren’t always doing ‘beautiful’ things; but, overall, who they are inside is beautiful. Just as my mother encouraged me, I’m going to encourage my girls to focus on their true beauty and continue being pretty women.
1Pe 3:3 - 4 Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; But let it be the hidden being of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a humble and peaceable spirit, which is in the sight of God of great value.
Helen Keller
We took over the dressing room at Marshalls. The three girls, their three friends and I were each trying on several dresses for Easter. I went first, since I dress the fastest and had the fewest to try on. As I came out of my little temporary cubby (why do the mirrors in those things seem to accuse rather than flatter?), I was greeted with “O, mom, you look great!” “You’re so pretty!” “Mom, I love that dress!” Gratified, in spite of my thickening waist and sagging muscles, I put my own clothes back on and settled in the midst of them to “thumbs up” or “thumbs down” their choices.
They each put on a dress and came out for my inspection. If they didn’t really like it at all, they didn’t even bother showing me. But if they thought it was cute, they were out modeling it for me in the bigger mirror. One by one, the dresses either brought out their beauty or squelched it. Elizabeth looked wonderful in the cream sun dress which accented her red hair. Anneliese looked beautiful in the silk brown and green print…although we needed to find a jacket or something for her bare shoulders; but not in the little black number that clung to every curve. Leilani looked wonderful in the soft browns of her sundress which accented her eyes and hair; but not in short purple number with spaghetti straps. A couple of times, one of them would come out wearing something “hoochie mama!” and we’d all give it a thumbs down. The dress might be pretty, but it accented the wrong kind of beauty.
Deanna found a beautiful green print that made her look taller and slenderer with extra blue eyes. Mikayla found several that would have been pretty, but didn’t do her justice and so she ended up without a dress rather than wear something that cheapened her beauty or made it seem base.
After leaving the store, we visited friends, looked in on my son, Adrian, and went to the movies. Our group of pretty girls made quite a sight going in and out of the mall. I observed, even if the girls didn’t, that heads turned and eyes flashed in our direction as we passed. It made me puff out my chest and lead boldly – proud of my beautiful entourage.
But what made these young ladies so pretty? It wasn’t the jeans and the tennis shoes. It wasn’t the make-up, because they were wearing little to none. When I got to thinking about it, it was the way they walked confidently, smiled and joked with each other, spoke politely to the sales clerks, talked amongst themselves about what they saw in the shop windows and the way that they were totally unaware of the beauty that seemed to envelop them like a cloud.
In so many ways, beauty is intangible. Sometimes the most beautiful of women can shatter that outward mask with a cynical word or sly look. If we think of beauty as something only visible with the human eye, then the adage “beauty is only skin deep” is true. However, if we realize that true beauty is not so much what is visible to the eye, but what is sensed in the soul, we then realize that what is on the outside is only a fraction of the story.
The next day, Deanna was up with me early in the morning giving me her schedule for the day. “After I go feed the horses for Bob, I’m going to go help Irene (the elderly lady next door) with her house work. I don’t want to get a job until I know how much longer she will need me.” Irene had come to me a couple of weeks ago and asked if Deanna would be willing to help her until she moved in with her sister. Deanna had been glad to go over several days a week to clean, help her walk, and exercise some after a back injury. It seems that Deanna is frequently in demand to help someone move, do yard work, dog sit, etc.
Later that day, one of my clients was telling me about Mikayla, who had recently been hired at one of the local restaurants. “She is so cute. She leaves us little notes everywhere,” she told me. “Notes?” I asked. “Yes. She leaves us notes saying ‘thank you’ or ‘I love working with you’ and stuff like that,” she replied. Mikayla is a natural encourager, but I didn’t realize that she would do something so sweet for her co-workers. That night, Mik told me a little about how her work was going and asked me to pray for some of her friends.
My mother used to tell me, ‘Beauty is as beauty does’. I think my daughters are beautiful because of what they do – help others, encourage their friends, pray for one another – even if it takes work or doesn’t yield immediate results. No one is perfect and my daughters aren’t always doing ‘beautiful’ things; but, overall, who they are inside is beautiful. Just as my mother encouraged me, I’m going to encourage my girls to focus on their true beauty and continue being pretty women.
1Pe 3:3 - 4 Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; But let it be the hidden being of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a humble and peaceable spirit, which is in the sight of God of great value.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Walking in Truth
Music echoed through the small sanctuary. Standing on the platform, I watched as Johnny (worship leader at Familia Christiana) coached each of the girls on their instruments: Deanna on the keyboard, Leilani on the bass guitar and Mikayla on the electric guitar. Esther, Johnny’s wife, filled in the spaces with her sweet voice singing the melody and I joined in with harmony. Anneliese was playing the drums, stumbling a little as she gained confidence. The Praise became palpable and almost tangible. I knew it was the Holy Spirit because “the Lord inhabits the praises of His people.” (Ps. 22:3)
What a thrill!! Worshiping the Lord with my kids making the music! I had always wanted to be part of a band. I just never dreamed that the principals would be my children. Then realization rolled over me in a wave: these musicians were not children any longer. They were young women fast becoming members of the adult population. Talk about a thrill – adults that will worship “in Spirit and in truth.” (Jn. 4:23)
Praise God that we decided to home educate!! Our time with them is so precious, so fleeting, so essential to imparting to them the truth of the gospel. Not just so that they will know and believe, but so that they will be equipped to lead their own children to the cross of Christ. Every day, as they grow older and taller, I am reminded of the ultimate “subject” in their education: knowing and serving the living God.
Some have said that our children will always be our babies. In a way, I’m sure that’s true. However, my dream is for my children to become parents who will be able to bless their children even more than I am able to bless them. My dream is for them to become adults who will lead their own little ones to the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ and will then teach them to lead their children in the truth. This generational legacy depends upon us nurturing them, leading them, guiding them and eventually letting them go. This dream depends upon our ability to see them and, over time, treat them as adults, too.
It’s been hard at times to allow them adult responsibility like driving a car, getting a job, or going on their own road trip (without me). But each time they take these things on and “conquer” them with integrity, it becomes easier to accept them as the adults that they are becoming.
This gray area between young people and adults is such a wonderful time! We allow them to spread their wings knowing that if they encounter something hard or fail at flying, the nest is always nearby ready to receive and comfort them. Then the nest becomes a launching pad again for the next try. Will they get in a fender bender? Will they encounter a rude boss? Will they get lost? Probably. But for this time, we are there so that their failures become learning experiences as they begin their journey toward adulthood.
As we gathered our instruments to return home, Mik asks “Mom, can we get some ice cream?” My reply is, “No, not tonight. We have dinner at home.” “Awww, Mom! Why not?” she whines. I just smile as I see the child in her that is still shining through those adult-looking eyes. Even as we guide her on her journey, the child still clings. Someday she’ll be ready to conquer the adult world all by herself. Until then, I’ll just keep helping her along, nudging her out of the nest and encouraging her to “walk in truth.”
1Jn 2:28 And now, little children, abide in Him, that when He is revealed we may have confidence, and not be shamed from Him in His coming.
3Jn 1:4 I have no greater joy than these things, that I hear my children are walking in truth.
What a thrill!! Worshiping the Lord with my kids making the music! I had always wanted to be part of a band. I just never dreamed that the principals would be my children. Then realization rolled over me in a wave: these musicians were not children any longer. They were young women fast becoming members of the adult population. Talk about a thrill – adults that will worship “in Spirit and in truth.” (Jn. 4:23)
Praise God that we decided to home educate!! Our time with them is so precious, so fleeting, so essential to imparting to them the truth of the gospel. Not just so that they will know and believe, but so that they will be equipped to lead their own children to the cross of Christ. Every day, as they grow older and taller, I am reminded of the ultimate “subject” in their education: knowing and serving the living God.
Some have said that our children will always be our babies. In a way, I’m sure that’s true. However, my dream is for my children to become parents who will be able to bless their children even more than I am able to bless them. My dream is for them to become adults who will lead their own little ones to the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ and will then teach them to lead their children in the truth. This generational legacy depends upon us nurturing them, leading them, guiding them and eventually letting them go. This dream depends upon our ability to see them and, over time, treat them as adults, too.
It’s been hard at times to allow them adult responsibility like driving a car, getting a job, or going on their own road trip (without me). But each time they take these things on and “conquer” them with integrity, it becomes easier to accept them as the adults that they are becoming.
This gray area between young people and adults is such a wonderful time! We allow them to spread their wings knowing that if they encounter something hard or fail at flying, the nest is always nearby ready to receive and comfort them. Then the nest becomes a launching pad again for the next try. Will they get in a fender bender? Will they encounter a rude boss? Will they get lost? Probably. But for this time, we are there so that their failures become learning experiences as they begin their journey toward adulthood.
As we gathered our instruments to return home, Mik asks “Mom, can we get some ice cream?” My reply is, “No, not tonight. We have dinner at home.” “Awww, Mom! Why not?” she whines. I just smile as I see the child in her that is still shining through those adult-looking eyes. Even as we guide her on her journey, the child still clings. Someday she’ll be ready to conquer the adult world all by herself. Until then, I’ll just keep helping her along, nudging her out of the nest and encouraging her to “walk in truth.”
1Jn 2:28 And now, little children, abide in Him, that when He is revealed we may have confidence, and not be shamed from Him in His coming.
3Jn 1:4 I have no greater joy than these things, that I hear my children are walking in truth.
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