Oh, the Brazen Nerve!

Yesterday, my errands took me across the path of a gentle older lady who was a cashier at the local dollar store.  But, for a minute, let me backtrack...

One of my uncompromising discipline staples as a mother is that I do not give in to or reward bad behavior.  (Well, that's my goal; I'm sure I'm not perfect in execution.)  Manners and politeness are required; fussing and whining are not allowed.

This past week or so, my one-year-old daughter, who is normally nothing but sugar and spice and everything nice, has become moody and fussy and is constantly crying and throwing tantrums.  About EVERYTHING.  It's sort of thrown me off guard, and I think I maybe subconsciously thought it was my fault, like I wasn't giving her enough love or attention and that was her way of getting my attention...And I kept making excuses for her, "She's just tired...She's teething and her teeth are bothering her...She's hungry..."  But the point is, I was so focused on making sure she felt loved and special that I didn't even realize that I was catering to her bad behavior.

Until I was checking out at the dollar store.  Hmph.  Fia saw the candy and mints and was squawking wildly for some.  Now, in my own defense, I just want to throw out there that I was planning on buying some mints anyway; let's just keep that in mind!  So, I was trying to calm her and was letting her pick which one she wanted. 

This older cashier lady said kindly, "Oh, aren't they just like that sometimes?  Earlier today a grandma was in with her twin boy grandsons who were acting similar, but she didn't give them what they wanted and reward their behavior, and I was glad to see it!  It just takes once, and they know...Aren't they so smart?..."  Albeit gentle, it was still a slapping rebuke.  If there's one thing that always makes my blood boil, it's strangers commenting on my parenting technique...in a negative fashion.  (If they want to tell me how great a mother I am, they can comment away!)

I just enacted my "smile and nod" defense mechanism to get out of there as quickly as possible, but once safe in my car, away from judging eyes, I felt angry--"Who is she to say such a thing to me?  She doesn't know us and she doesn't know what our morning was like..." etc.  But then I felt a gentle prodding in my spirit, "Does it matter what your morning was like?  Is bad behavior ever justified?"  And I knew that I was angry because I knew that she was right; she had brought to my attention an issue that I was for some reason blinded to.  I knew that if she had said that same comment about another mother, I would have agreed with her wholeheartedly, and I felt convicted.

After a short battle in my spirit between self-righteous anger and humble acceptance of reproof, the latter won, and I immediately changed my manner of responding to my precious, ill-tempered child.  And you know what?  The results were dramatic.  She shaped right up, lost the attitude, and has been back to her sweet self.  So, thank you, Dollar Store Cashier, for your brazen nerve.  It was just what the both of us needed.

Beer Buddies

I'll give you a heads up: this post may be controversial.  I've debated for some time about even writing it at all, but it's been on my mind and so I decided to spill it.  And by the way, these are just my own inconclusive thoughts, no theological implications intended.

So.....Last month, we attended a beer festival here in northern Michigan--an event for a myriad of microbreweries to team up and showcase their specialty brews for the brew-loving public.  My husband is a budding connoisseur of malted beverages, so it was natural for us to go (and good business contacts were made, might I add!).

I wasn't much into the beer tasting (there were other things that suited my tastes better), but the experience struck me in a different way, having never been to such a thing before.  What struck me the most, from the minute we got in line to be let through the gate, was how friendly and non-judgmental and rather community-minded everyone was.  Of course, at an event such as this where the object is to taste various alcoholic beverages, people are going to develop more animated personalities.  However, the phenomenon I'm talking about started at the very beginning, before anyone had had even a sip to drink. 

(This obviously is not a picture from our winter festival, but it shows the atmosphere inside the tent)

Everyone acted like everyone was their friend.  Strangers were merely best friends yet to be met.  Everyone smiled and greeted everyone upon passing by, not  unlike the first few freshman weeks on a college campus.  And standing by the open fire to warm my hands, I got to know several people and became deeply immersed in conversations about the Middle East, its troubles, possible remedies, and other politics (disclaimer: Owen is the political one in our family, but I do have my own ideas on some things).  I'm not one who's energized by socializing, and so I usually feel overwhelmed and lonely in large crowds; but on this night, even at times when surrounded by no one I knew, I felt befriended and belonging, and never alone. 

I was really quite shocked...because, in my experience, out in public people tend to keep to themselves (maybe this is my experience because it's how I tend to be?), and the rare occasions when you do meet friendly people, conversation usually stays pretty light and short.  In the instance above, though, three sentences in we were already knee-deep in Middle-East issues, and talking about things that matter in the world.  It was refreshing, and inspiring.

Not to sound dramatic, but the whole night I just felt valued, appreciated, understood, and free to be myself.  (I even danced!  Not well, but who cared?!)  Not because people were lavishing compliments on me or paying any special attention to me, but just because everyone was so warm and welcoming and non-judgmental to everyone.  It was like all worldly criticisms and character judgments got checked at the gate, and everyone was equal, and everyone appreciated that everyone was equal, and everyone appreciated each person for who they were.  It was like what I expect the Church should be like.  And yet, I found it at a beer festival.

Okay, I know it probably sounds really silly to be painting this glorified picture of a bunch of tipsies at a beer celebration.  But, my spirit was legitimately encouraged and instructed.  Even amongst (maybe) non-believing strangers (oops--now I'm being judgmental!), I encountered God in a special way. 

I don't know.  I feel like sometimes we as Christians get so concerned about living right--and making sure others live right--legalistically working out our own salvation, if you will--that we forget about Jesus' commands to love and forgive and not judge others, and other simple but basic truths.  May we, the Church--believers in our daily lives--have arms so open and hearts so forgiving, and may we find God in the most unexpected places. 

Little Treasures and Nuggets of Delight

Just a little update on the things most precious to me:

Jack...

• This boy is growing up so fast, displaying new masteries of knowledge and emotional intuition daily.  Sometimes I forget he's still only 3!
• He's a very social boy; not always outgoing, but always loves being around people.  He is currently very excited about the prospect of starting preschool so that he can make his "own new friends."  We visited a couple days ago, and he's been bragging ever since about how well he obeyed the teacher and played with the kids, and tries to impress me with how well he knows to ask for the potty.
• He loves trains more than any other toy on the planet.  Anywhere he goes, he will pass up any other fun toys and just spend hours putting together train tracks and creating scenarios for his trains.
• He's a very sweet, kind, emotionally intuitive boy.  He is always very in tune with my emotions and will ask me about them, and when he knows I'm sad he smothers me with love.  
• He loves his sister and is proud of her accomplishments.  He cheers her on when she works toward a new milestone and loves to help teach her new things.  
• He seems to be quite mechanical and is definitely detail-oriented.  He's always fiddling with his toys to figure out how they work, and it has happened that he has figured out how to work a toy that we had even failed to figure out.  And he notices when the slightest thing is out of place.
• He's so smart!  I know, I should think so...but really, he's always saying these really smart things that we know we've never taught him, and we're not sure how he makes certain connections, but he just does. 
• He loves to help, and is so capable!  
• He's a very confident, self-assured, kind, happy boy, and I couldn't be more proud of him!

Safita...

• This girl is such a cuddle-able bundle of joy and delight!  She always has the brightest smile, is full of giggles, and is brimming with mischievous fun!  She's a trooper, and up for anything.
• She most certainly is not a dainty, fragile girl--she loves to get in on wrestling and holds her own!  When boys growl at her, she growls right back.  But she also loves pretty things, and spends her days roaming the house for "pretty treasures" to drape around her neck, whether it be a piece of clothing or some beads.  
• She adores her brother to no end.  Every morning, there is no match for her delight upon her first glimpse of "Ja-!"  I've never seen her so elated as when he hugs and kisses her.  And of course, though she does seem to enjoy dolls every now and then, her adoration for her brother seems to have influenced her play preferences, as she always goes for the trains and cars over anything else. 
• She's very decisive and makes sure her opinions are clearly expressed.  She loves to shake or nod her head to communicate, and always does so with a huge adorable grin.  Some days she likes to pick out her own clothes!
• She's a little bit mischievous...She's in a cute, yet frustrating, stage where she knows the things she's not supposed to do, and likes to test us.  If she knows she's not supposed to touch something, she'll wait til we're watching, reach her hand out to touch it, stop just short and turn to look at us while grinning and shaking her head no.  
• She's been pseudo-potty training with Jack.  She'll sit on the little toilet, grab the book to read, and when she's done she climbs the step stool to wash her hands.  She even seems to have closely observed my instructions to Jack about how to wash hands, because she does it perfectly!
• She's recently taking off with walking!  She's been able to take steps for over a month & a half, but in these last few days has really gained confidence and chooses to walk everywhere!  Her proud grins are telling that she knows she's doing something pretty cool. 
• Already, she's a little flirt.  And she loves to kiss the boys.  She loves to kiss in general, but if a boy tries to kiss her, she's all over it.  She loves to wake me in the morning by hovering over my face and kissing me sweetly on the lips. 

The Truth about Fear

I can't remember where I heard this--whether it was in a church sermon or a book--but I can't get it off my mind.  It has to do with the same theme as my last post, so it seemed appropriate to share. 

The subject is the Israelites, as they are coming out of slavery in Egypt.  The tribe of Jacob (the Israelites) went to Egypt during a time of famine, when Joseph had become a high-ranking ruler in Egypt.  As generations passed, however, the Israelites multiplied numerously and the kings of Egypt forgot about Joseph, and out of fear of the Israelites' increasing numbers subjected them to slavery and hardship.  They were "oppressed with forced labor...they worked them ruthlessly....they made their lives bitter with hard labor..."  Doesn't sound like a very desirable situation; in fact, it sounds pretty desperate to me. 

And then the Egyptians started killing their baby boys.  Just as a mother, to have the joy of a new baby ripped away and replaced with horrifying fear--apart from the normal fears of healthy pregnancy and birth--that if my precious new baby so much as cried (which babies will do), someone might come and kill him mercilessly--that would do me in!  I feel like that alone would give me the courage to do whatever it took to gain freedom! 

But, Moses came along, and through a series of miracles and wonders, God delivered the Israelites from their oppression.  I'm sure it was hard work packing up their homes and doing all the preparation to leave for the long journey (they'd been in Egypt 430 years), but it's worth whatever it takes, right?

They got as far as the Red Sea...not really very far...when they met their first opposition: Pharaoh changed his mind and sent his army after them.  They had just witnessed a host of miraculous signs and wonders by the hand of God, and God's very presence had been traveling with them in a manifest form, so you would expect their faith to be strong.  But here's how they respond: "Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us to the desert to die?  What have you done to us by bringing us out of Egypt?  Didn't we say to you in Egypt, 'Leave us alone; let us serve the Egyptians'?  It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert!" (Ex. 14:10-12, italics added)

WHAT??!!  Shocking, right?  It really seemed better to the Israelites to live under oppressive slavery under ruthless slavemasters without even the freedom to give birth...than to face freedom and become rulers of their own land with a loving, powerful God on their side?

In their defense, however, I've also experienced the other side.  The Israelites were obviously facing a significant amount of Fear, and Moses answers their complaints with an exhortation: "Do not be afraid. Stand firm."  I've recently started reading Max Lucado's book Fearless, and it's been astoundingly eye-opening.  I knew I had issues to deal with, but never, ever tied them back to fear; I never thought I was a fearful person, and in fact thought I was an exceptionally non-fearful person.  But Max Lucado explains how fear is the root of so many other issues in our lives (I highly recommend this book!):

• Fear corrodes our confidence in God's goodness and makes us question whether He really loves us.  It causes us to doubt, and makes our doubt turn to anger.
• Fear turns us into control freaks.  We become so insecure that we frantically try to control whatever we can: dieting, cleaning house, people, etc.
• Fear makes us get mean, because we feel threatened and cornered.  
• Fear makes us unable to love deeply, because love is risky.
• Fear makes us lose hope and give up.  It prevents us from dreaming wildly.
• Fear makes us forget the good things and the miracles God has worked in our lives.
• Fear sucks life out of our souls, steals joy, drains contentment, reverts us to an embryonic stage, creates numbing dread, paralyzes us with insecurity, makes safety our god and causes us to worship a risk-free life ("the easy life," perhaps?)

I just think of myself, and how my "Egyptians"--those battles I'm facing that seem so daunting and frightening--can scare me so badly that I forget the wonders and miracles God has done for me, I forget His goodness, and, instead of standing firm in faith, I angrily challenge God, "Why have you brought me here?  Do you not love me??"  As if it would really be better for me to hopelessly rot in my own slavery than to fight for freedom. 

I think, at least for myself, the slavery and bondage of where I am is familiar, and in that sense it is comfortable.  It's not comfortable in and of itself, and of course I would want change!  But freedom is unknown, it is expensive, it takes hard work, it is not predictable, and it doesn't allow us to sit around on our rear ends and mope.  So I keep thinking about the Israelites, and it brings perspective: Slavery, or Freedom?  The choice is obvious...*All it takes* is a face-down with that frightening monster named Fear.

Moses' words to the Israelites encourage me in my own situation: "Do not be afraid.  Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today.  [The Egyptians/ enter personal problem] you see today you will never see again.  The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still" (Ex. 14:13-14).  God is not asking me to single-handedly slay the dragon; He's simply asking me to not be afraid and trust Him to be strong.  And what a promise!  If I can be still enough to let God bring deliverance, I will never see this problem again!  Sure, there will be others, but that sounds pretty amazing. 

Looking Forward to a Terrible New Year

Confession:  Today, I cleaned our bathroom for the FIRST time since moving in...four months ago.  Shocking, I know, not to mention disgusting!  (If you've been a guest at our house and used our bathroom--no worries--I have actually cleaned our guest bathroom on a regular basis!)  Truth is, most of the time our house is not unlike a hurricane disaster area, and I really don't think I'm exaggerating. (And if you've been to our house, you still might not know the extent of it, because I'm good at frantically stuffing things away without really cleaning.)  I actually am an organized person.  I actually like to clean.  I actually HATE living like this.  

This is how I've been feeling lately...buried, with no hope of catching up!

This past year has been hard.  That's no secret.  But, coming into this new year has been even harder, because it seems that over the past couple of years I've been getting through each stage of life by holding on to the hope that when we reach the next stage, things will be better.  I'm chasing that elusive dangling carrot of an easier life, where things are in order, where need is eradicated, where we are in control of our own lives.  And I have neatly packaged that "easy life" dream into the box of "normalcy": my husband having a job, having a house, having a larger (and even second!) vehicle, etc.  The trouble is, every time I get to that new stage of life, it's NOT the golden age that I anticipated it would be, and worse--it's HARDER than before!  (My guess is, if I'm really honest with myself, that those of you who have these things probably wouldn't label your life "easy" either.)

These may be cheesy, but they have a good point!

And each time, I get angrier.  "I'm not asking for that much, here!  Just a normal life, with the same normal things that everyone has!  A job, a car, a house, a dog.  Why does it always have to be SO HARD?????"  I know that this will make many of you cringe and want to rush at me with Bible verses in hand, but often I have felt and begun to believe that God really doesn't love me.  (But hold your sermon-writing...just wait...we're not at the conclusion yet!)

Time after time this has happened, and I've worn thin; I've worn past thin, to raw, un-coping nerves.  I admit, for some time now, I've given up.  My house has, in a way, become an expression of my inner life: the mess inside my heart and mind just spewing out into confused heaps on the floor.  Efforts to clean and organize have been frustratingly unproductive, because how can I create order when I'm muddled in confusion? 

Last night, and I honestly can't even pinpoint why or how, I felt like someone had wiped my eyes clear.

Maybe...instead of complaining, "Why does life have to be so hard?" I should wonder, "Why should life be easy?"  Maybe God has bigger plans and bigger blessings in mind for me than my own mediocre goal of "easy."  Maybe God has more faith in me than I do in myself to achieve dreams He hasn't even yet placed in my heart.  Maybe, just maybe, this time of hardship is exactly the blessing I need to push me to do what I would never normally do (you got it--because it's not easy!) so that I could see past my limited vision and limited dreams to a whole new world of possibilities. 

Okay, these conclusions are obvious, I know.  And I'm sure some of you have tried to tell me these same things a time or two, and I just couldn't hear at the time.  I was spinning in space and just had to find my own feet.  I honestly always thought I was a strong person, unafraid of new challenges, never willing to quit just because of adversity, quick to find resourceful solutions.  But I'm realizing now that I've really been weak and cowardly, hiding behind a facade of strength. 

So I guess I've decided:  This year is going to be hard anyway.  It's a fact and it's not going to change.  So...Instead of fighting it aimlessly and wailing about the injustice, as I've been trying for years, why not embrace the hardship and do things I may not want to do, which might make this hard year harder, but will make our future brighter?

That's my goal for the New Year: to have a really, truly terrible year, in the very best possible way!  To take a year that's filled with hardship and turn it into a catalyst for blessing.

 And my bathroom is clean.

(P.S.  I'm not super-motivated here, folks.  I'm scared out of my mind.  But I think it's going to turn out to be a very good thing, indeed...)

Hold the Sugar Coating, Please

It's been ages since I've written, I know...Truth is, things have been hard lately, and I was trying to live by that trusty old proverb, "If you don't have anything good to say, don't say anything at all."  So I didn't.

I definitely get the whole idea behind positive thinking, and I definitely agree with it.  BUT, sometimes I feel like I'm not allowed to be real with myself or feel things genuinely if I'm forcing myself to always be positive about everything.  There are legitimately things in life that aren't great.  There are tough times.  It may not be uplifting to admit that I'm struggling, but plastering on a fake smile and spouting insincere positivity certainly isn't helping, either. 

Things will get better, as they always do.  And they really could be worse!  We have our health, and we have a home.  I know that we are blessed.

Prayers for blessings on all of you this Christmas season!

Like a Child

We're having a "business vacation" in San Francisco currently--here for the annual ASOR meetings (American Schools of Oriental Research...aka, the conference for archaeology geeks).  It's always a fun event (it's only the third one I've been able to attend) because we get to reconnect with a bunch of friends from so many different stages of life and from so many different places.  In that sense, it's almost like a reunion of memories past.  And it's a gold mine for professional networking for Owen, as well.

We just rolled into town last night and settled into our budget hotel, and today the kids and I went on a mission to explore our immediate neighborhood by foot.  Jack is adorable: I had told him excitedly, "Today we get to go explore the neighborhood!"  He matched my enthusiasm with wide-eyed wonder, "Mr. Roger's neighborhood?!"  (I think he's only seen the show once, ever.)  I felt terrible letting him down, but then again, there were trolleys!  I reminisced about our Amman days as I puffed up 45 degree inclines with one child strapped to me and the other pushed in front, and it felt good to exert myself again in the warm sunshine.

Around dinnertime, we drove downtown to meet up with Owen and some friends, and of course had trouble finding reasonable parking.  I was determined to find free street parking!  I was just about to give up, when I happened across an empty street boasting a plethora of free parking spaces!  I was so excited that I didn't realize until I'd parked why this section of street was not terribly popular: the entirety of it was heavily populated by shady-looking homeless people and (I'm quite certain) drug dealers.  It was very shady.  I only felt slightly better that there was a Youth With A Mission located there...albeit behind iron gates and bars.  I was so committed to my free parking plan, however, that we stayed.

Safita is such a lovely, sweet, happy, friendly child, always bursting with smiles and eager to interact with other people.  I am told constantly by people that she is the friendliest baby they've ever seen.  So as I toted my kids down Sketchy Street, my Little Miss Sunshine was nearly leaping out of my arms trying to say hello to every single vagabond we passed.  She didn't notice their tattered clothes, the dark circles under their eyes, their greasy hair...It took a good deal of effort to hold on to her!

And it was another one of those frequent backwards moments where my child taught me a lesson.  Oh, to be like a child and not be so quick to pre-judge people or qualify who should be deserving of our kindness.  Safita reminded me that people are more than the situations they find themselves in, they are more than the mistakes they've made, and they all deserve kindness and good will.  I am inspired to have more "x-ray" vision like a child: to see past the outer baggage into the valuable soul of each person I meet.