Weekend Reading

The Writing Process @ Rhythm of the Home

Every writer has her own process, but most involve lousy rough drafts and circuitous routes to something better. It’s true of even the best. It’s hard to imagine why most of us were taught to begin school papers by submitting outlines. We were forced to decide what we’d say before the writing could show us what we really wanted to say. Advice-givers will tell you that to achieve anything, you need goals and resolutions. I’m not convinced. Maybe it’s better to simply start with the work, whether that work be writing, or painting, or planting gardens, or parenting. We learn to write by writing; we learn to live by living. Maybe it’s best to skip making plans and simply dig in, do the work, make a hot mess that scares us and see what we can do with it. Let the process tell us how to proceed.

Having My Twenties to Myself @ A Deeper Family

Myself, the one who has seen and felt first-hand the love a parent lavishes on their child. Myself, who has learned that she must put a vice grip around Grace and never, ever let go. Myself, who learned that she is capable of far more than she ever thought possible. Myself, who sometimes finds it hard to tell where she ends and her family begins.

In a very real sense, I have both lost and found myself in my twenties.

In which I hope she remembers, today at church @ Sarah Bessey

And let her remember how I cried my mascara right off, and how I was such a gigantic mess in my real life but I kept trying anyway because I had stars in my eyes, wild in love, and how I sang too-loud, and clutched my breast with relief at being reminded again how He is faithful. And let her remember that He is enough, because He was enough for her crazy imperfect mama.

Parenting Beyond Me @ A Deeper Family

Everyday and in every area of their lives, I want God to be present and welcomed. In the mundane routine and the dire circumstance, God needs to be. God has no number of priority in our lives. He is not fit into our schedule at bedtime or as a corrective reference point. God is not a priority to appease. My goal is for him to be supremely present in everything.

The older I get, the badder I get

He'd had a rough morning. It started off on the wrong foot and there we were, mother and oldest son, butting heads over and over. He was exerting his independence. I was lacking in patience. He was stuck. I was quick to anger. Neither of us were behaving well, and me all the worse for being the adult.

There was a break, a few minutes of silence, a chance for each of us to collect ourselves. Then he came to me.

"I feel like the older I get, the badder I get."

His face crumpled with those words. I opened my arms and he climbed onto my lap; it's been too long since I've rocked him like that. He cried as I whispered words of peace, then as quickly as he'd come, he wriggled off my lap and was gone.

We talked about it later, but my words felt hollow, empty platitudes in the face of such sadness and self-awareness. His growing capacity for good as well, the age-old struggle between the two creatures within, choices and forgiveness and I don't know what I'm doing here. He seemed content, though, and it was a good talk. The rest of the day passed smoothly.

But as I lay in bed that night, I couldn't get his words out of my head. The older I get, the badder I get. I realized, slowly, that his words rang true for me as well.

The older I get, the badder I get.

Or perhaps more correctly worded, the older I get, the more aware I am of my badness, my capacity to do wrong even as I desire to do right.

My wrongdoings may be more subtle now, no longer as blatant as those of my earlier years. They may be easier to hide, to ignore, to excuse or brush off as not really that bad. But they are and I am and the awareness only grows as I get older.

I am more aware, too, of the range of my wrongdoings. What I once thought was right now seems horrific to my older self. Did I truly believe that? say that? do that?

The older I get, the badder I get.

There are lessons, too, that I am taught repeatedly and yet never seem to learn. For how long will I continue in my stubbornness? I am increasingly disappointed, for example, in how easily I turn to despair. Forget it, why do I even bother, it's always going to turn out this way. Bitterness and cynicism join in and do I forget so quickly about hope, joy, and that inner peace that passes all understanding? Time and time again and I am running out of excuses.

The older I get, the badder I get.

But that's not my whole story.

Because - to borrow a five-year-old's poor grammar - the older I get, the gooder I get too.

The older I get, the more my eyes are open to the spectrum around me. No longer black and white, I see greys too, and reds and yellows and blues and everything in between. The strident nature of youth is falling away, can't help but fall away, as I grow in understanding and compassion, grace and mercy. There is so much more than I imagined, God is so much bigger than I knew, and there is mystery and beauty and yes, goodness.

The older I get, the gooder I get.

God grows me, stretches me, opens my eyes and my ears and my heart as he guides me along the path. He has begun this work in me, I am truly a new creation, and the old (wo)man is being left behind. Slowly, oh so painfully slowly, I walk towards wholeness in the promise that He will complete this work in the age to come. I see His Goodness and I know His desire for my wholeness, that day when I will no longer wrestle inwardly with the old and the new.

But for now I am both.

The older I get, the badder I get.
The older I get, the gooder I get.
And I know which one wins in the end.

Laid low

The boy woke up with a fever this morning. He laid down on the floor in front of the fireplace and stayed there for the rest of the day, baseball cap on and tissue box nearby. He ate a pear and half a sandwich and sometimes fell asleep for a brief time. I spent much of the day chasing off his little brother, who just wanted to play and wrestle with his much-adored big brother. It was an odd change from my usual duty of getting the older one to back off the younger a bit. That poor boy, he was laid right low.

The younger one wanted a sandwich after dinner, just like his big brother. He nibbled at it a bit before abandoning it at the table in favour of Duplo. It was gone when he went back for it later. Did you eat his sandwich?, I called to the husband. He came into the room, sheepish, to admit that he had. The poor child received the news poorly. Fell straight forward onto the floor and sobbed his broken heart out, drowning out offers of a replacement. Devastation comes swiftly when one is only three years old; he was laid low by the injustice of it all.

Unexpected news yesterday left me sleepless last night, reeling from the blow and wondering what it would all mean in the end. I got out of bed early this morning to prepare for company that never arrived. Emotional and physical exhaustion wrestled for top spot and by the time the husband got home, I was spent. I napped on the couch, laid low by discouragement and never enough sleep.

But tomorrow is a new day, always, always. We'll recover from illness and disappointment and discouragement. We'll count blessings along the way because it's the only thing that keeps us standing tall, giving thanks to God (for He is good, His mercy endures forever).

Singing it again

It was such a little thing but I can't get it out of my mind.

"I liked that song. I liked it a lot. Can we sing it again?" He's five and he loves music and something about this song caught his attention. The pastor/worship leader/guitar player/man of so many hats chuckled at the request.

But I'm a mother and I shushed him because that's what we do when our children speak out of turn, we blush and shush and worry about what everyone around us must think. Our children always seem so much more unruly to us than they do to everyone else, don't they?

The worship continued, next song, words projected onto the walls. I swayed with my baby in my arms. I've been swaying for the past five years, catch myself moving back and forth, back and forth, in line at the grocery store and the bank, just swaying even when I don't have a little one with me. So I swayed and sang and we carried on.

But at the end, someone spoke up, "let's sing that first one again, remember? He wanted to sing it again." Slides flashed by, back to the beginning of the set, and that man of many hats began strumming his guitar again.

They sang that song again just for my boy, my sweet music lover, and it was such a little thing but I can't get it out of my mind. I remember and my eyes well up every time, every single time, it's been two weeks now. Such a small kindness and yet so big when you're five, to be noticed and heard and valued.

And I guess that's how I know we're exactly where we're supposed to be each Sunday.

Asking the right questions

I am the goal-oriented product of a goal-oriented society. I ask questions the focus on achievements, outcomes, accomplishments. I ask how I can get what I want, how I can improve my surroundings, how I can make things happen. Good things. Worthy things.

But on their own, they are the wrong questions.

They all focus on the end, but the end cannot be the foremost consideration. Too often I have witnessed - in the world and in myself - the goal becoming the Good Thing, and anything that aids in achieving that goal must also be a Good Thing. So very many things are justified in the name of attaining that Good Thing.

Parenting for Results

The principle applies universally, but I am a mother and I have a habit of seeing everything through that role. As a mother, I see all the ways in which we, too, focus on the wrong questions.

How can I make her listen to me?
How can I get him to do what I want?
How can I make her stop doing that?
How can I keep them safe?
How can I ensure my children Turn Out Right?

Their focus is on the end, achieving a goal, making something happen, and on their own they are insufficient.

Sometimes it is our own human weaknesses that most clearly illustrate the insufficiency of these questions. We want them to obey! now! and so we yell because it is effective and we don't have the time, energy, or patience to do the harder work of teaching and guiding. We focus on our desires and lose sight of what we believe to be true. These days do not define us, but they happen and we apologize and we try again tomorrow.

Other times, however, the insufficiency of these questions is demonstrated through deliberation rather than a slip-up in a moment of weakness. Entire parenting paradigms are built around the idea of goal attainment, promising children that grow up to be productive citizens or God-fearing adults or responsible or hard-working or whatever it is that we want to hear.

Perhaps even worse, these promises are often cloaked in religion, and there is always the looming threat that failure means the loss of our children's very souls. With that end, what means could possibly be worse? It is upon that question that many of those who call themselves Christian parenting experts build their kingdoms. Follow these biblical instructions and you too can be guaranteed to raise a godly child. We are assured we can raise them to righteous through these instructions, usually centered on a "biblical model" of corporal punishment, yet ultimately amounting to nothing more than moralistic behaviour modification.

There are no promises in parenting. If we could parent our children into God's good graces, they would have no need of Christ in their lives. We cannot presume to be able to do the work of the Holy Spirit; our children are as human as we are and will need God's beautiful redemptive grace as much as we ourselves do. Nothing is gained by making obedience the goal of our parenting.

If we parent with the belief that things will add up as we expect, we will be disappointed. There is no guarantee that good parenting will produce the desired results, religious or not. We must parent not for their obedience, but rather out of our own obedience.

And therein lies the question.

Asking the Right Questions

Whatever our goals, whatever our desires, however noble our purposes, there is one question that must accompany them all: Are my actions the right actions?

Not the goal. My actions. Are they good? Not will it work, but is it right?

In so many other words,
Is this the right choice in this moment?
Does this decision line up with my values?
Am I faithfully doing what I should be doing?
Am I, right now, bringing glory to my Creator?

Many things will achieve my goals, but far fewer things are Good and Right.

Goals are good. They give us direction for the journey. But when the question of how to achieve them becomes the ultimate question, we too easily lose perspective. Those questions must always be balanced by that one question, is this right?

My ultimate desire is to bring glory to God, as a person, as a parent, in whatever role I find myself at any particular time. Is this action going to please and glorify my Creator? Maybe your question will be different, not God but peace or love or freedom or kindness or non-violence or whatever your ultimate value is. But underneath it all, however we word it, whatever the ultimate motive is, the question must always focus on our own actions.

I cannot control others. I cannot guarantee outcomes. But I can always control myself, can consider my own actions, my own reactions, my choices along the way.

Likewise, I cannot control my children. I cannot guarantee that they will Turn Out Right. But I can control my actions and reactions, letting those be lessons that teach them about life.

This is the principle that ultimately guides my parenting. It is why we respond to our children's cries, speak to them with kindness, respect their individual needs, extend them grace, seek solutions rather than punishments, and apologize when we mess up. It is why we ultimately seek to demonstrate the fruit of the Spirit to them rather than demand it from them. We ask not will it work, but is it right?

Beyond Parenthood

The same principle applies throughout our lives: our marriages, our relationships, our workplaces, our churches, everything. Regardless of roles or desired outcomes or anything else, the question of how to accomplish our goals must always be coupled with the question of is this action, right now, the right action in these circumstances?

The question is not how can I make my spouse do what I want, but how can I act and react in a way that lines up with my values? Not how can we grow our church, but how can we live faithful lives today? Not how can we get promoted, but how can we love and serve where we are? Not how can we make things easier, but how can we behave honourably in these circumstances?

With that question foremost in our minds, the rest often falls into place behind it. But even if it does not - there are no guarantees - at least we have lived well and without regret, having considered the rightness of our actions ahead of the achievement of our goals.

The Mom Spa

Turns out my kids are entrepreneurs. They offer a variety of spa and fitness services in exchange for room and board. They came up with the services all on their own; in fact, they seem to have a knack for it from birth.

What services, you ask?

Face texturizing: Smooth skin is so last decade. Using intermittent wailing throughout the night, this 100% natural treatment is guaranteed to add beautiful dark bags below your eyes, giving you the varied skin depth and high interest you've always dreamed of.

Skin treatment: The periodic application of drool, spit up, and bodily waste will leave your skin smelling a baby. Mechanics of delivery are varied and include slobbery kisses, chewing, leaky diapers, and direct application.

Personal trainer: With steady refrains of "I'm hungry!", "I need to be wiped!", and "Oops, it was an accident!", your personal trainer will keep you on your feet and motivated all the blessed day long.

Full-body massage: After an active day on your feet, a two-on-one wrestling match with your high-energy trainers will loosen those stiff muscles. Hugs, snuggles, and nursing-massages will aid in the relaxation process.

Nutrition specialist: Specializing in portion control, your nutrition specialist will help himself to a share of the food on your plate. In the event that nothing on your plate appeals to your nutrition specialist, he will request your frequent assistance during mealtime in order to prevent you from consuming too much food in one sitting.

There you have it, my own in-home spa and fitness club, open 24/7. My life is grand.

If you don't have children, come on by for your own spa treatments. If you do have children, do they offer any additional services that I should let mine know about?

Weekend Reading

A Lullaby for His Babies @ A Deeper Story

Christians talk a lot about being born again. Sometimes, I think an important truth is overlooked in that. We are born again as His babies. In all the times when we feel helpless to even communicate, He hears the deepest cries of our hearts. He sings for joy over us. Not resignation, or impatience or disappointment, but a lullaby of tender, heart-bursting delight. He holds us in His arms, rocks us and comforts us. He wipes away our tears, draws us close and whispers to us who we really are. He names us.

Sometimes we make obedience too hard. We listen to the hissing of the Accuser instead of the Song, and confuse obeying God with a checklist, or unspoken threats of punishment. Yes, there is that daily taking up of the Cross. But more than anything, the heart of obedience is listening to His love songs, to the Truth that He speaks over us. Letting the everlasting arms hold us close to Him. We are His babies. When we hear and understand that, the obedience grows from there. It is the harmony to His song over us. He isn’t sighing in disapproval. All of the love, delight and tenderness we have for our own kidlets is just an echo of His lullaby for His babies.

When Children Get Stuck @ Real Child Development

I thought for a second and then just stated what I was perceiving.

“It’s like your stuck, Jude. You’re just stuck on this shirt. And if you can get past it, if you can get past this shirt, a whole world of opportunities will open for you. Opportunities for play, for fun, for joy.”

Advocate or Adversary: Your view of God Determines your Parenting Philosophy @ I Take Joy

However, I believe that the more a person truly understands the character of God and His mercy and love and patience and servant’s heart as a parent toward his children, then one must adopt the role of an advocate towards their children as God is our advocate.

How very grateful I am for the grace and patience of God as He leads me, his child. He is so committed to my own holiness and sanctification, but so wise and patient with me as I make progress. I am grateful He sees my heart. I try so hard, I fail so miserably and so often. Yet, He does not embarrass me or demean me, He simply walks this road with me, by my side, drawing me to His ways, coaching me to walk in His truth, teaching me to obey one day at a time.

Dear Pastor Mark: Pontificate This @ Rage Against the Minivan

Not all of us have the daddy issues or broken background that makes your brand of leadership attractive. Some of us don’t find shame to be a spiritual motivator. A whole bunch of us think that you are misrepresenting Christ. And we’re talking about it, because we think it’s damaging. We think it’s spiritual abuse.