BTS series, Lesson 5

The kids have been in school for about a month now, right?  They've adjusted to the new routine. You've adjusted to the new routine. The dog has started waking up early on Saturday mornings again, thinking it's just another weekday...or is that just mine?

It has only taken a month, but everyone has already established his or her opinions on the friends, teachers, homework and lunch menus the fall season has delivered. With my kids, I've found that each year unfolds differently than the last, and the dynamics of each classroom is totally unique. Most years have been amazing. A few have been woven with struggle. None have been perfect, that's for sure.

A handful of years ago was one that started off rocky; my child's teacher, I think, was suffering from some sudden changes in the district and in the administration that were making her job much more difficult. And she was bringing that stress and a lot of negativity into her classroom. She was continually complaining, and was also emotionally reactive when things or people weren't living up to her expectations. Upon my first few interactions with her, I was tempted to panic, go into protection mode, and be that "advocate" for my child. But parenting is not my only responsibility. I realized I have a responsibility also as a follower of Jesus to see my kids' teachers as not only servants of the school and of my child, but also as women (or men). Before they are teachers, they are first human beings who have flaws and carry stress and endure painful seasons, just like I do.

That year, I shared with my cousin who is four years ahead of me in parenting, the concerning things I observed with the negative teacher. She had a quick and lovely solution. I've written about this before (last fall, I think) so I apologize if this is old news to you. Finding herself in the same shoes in the past, my cousin decided to write an encouraging note to the troublesome teacher weekly. I was somewhat resistant, at first, to adopt this strategy; I couldn't think of anything nice to say to that teacher. But somehow, I knew that was exactly what I was supposed to do and, more importantly, exactly who I am supposed to be.

I committed to writing this woman an encouraging note once a week. And I committed to myself that I would only write things I could firmly stand behind. No false flattery, no fluff. For example:

"Dear _______,
I just wanted to send a note to say thank you for all your efforts. It must be incredibly challenging to start a new year with so many little ones to care for. My (son/daughter) really enjoyed the Dr. Seuss craft and is clearly improving in math already. He/she is having fun, and I'm looking forward to seeing how much he/she grows this year. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help. Wednesday mornings are a good time for me.
With gratitude,
Leslie Padgett, _______'s mom"

Oftentimes, when I couldn't say many complimentary things about her as a teacher, I stuck to statements of empathy and focused the attention on my child and his/her feelings about the class. Once, I left the note with a latte. Sometimes when I made muffins, I'd bring her a few to snack on during breaks. What if - I mean, really think about it - what if my words were the only positive, encouraging ones she heard all day? What if there were really far more difficult circumstances in her life, ones about which I knew nothing, taking place? What if this woman just needed a little grace and a muffin to get her through another day? She is in charge of my child, for heaven's sake. The least I can do is support her, no matter how I feel about her personality.      

I will never know if it changed the teacher's, but my cousin's simple suggestion totally changed MY heart. That teacher and I grew to have an excellent working relationship by Christmas. I think she even considered me a friend, and I saw her soften a lot to her own job conditions. In fact, I began to believe in the note-writing so much that my own gratitude for these important characters in my children's lives just grew and grew. What started as a strategy to cope with a difficult teacher has become a loved habit for me. Every year now, with every teacher, I write notes and bake muffins and offer my help. I think it's safe to assume that for every bit of encouragement I can offer, they get ten negative and critical bits from other parents. I don't want to be those other parents. I want to love on the people to whom I'm entrusting my precious children.

I'm not EVER entitled to a perfect schooling environment for my child. (Let's face it: even if I were in complete control, let's say homeschooling them, the environment would still never be perfect for them, because I'm not perfect.) However, I'm required to parent my children through all circumstances and love everyone involved, as far as it depends on me.

So my take home message is this. It's time; we're one month into this deal. Love on your kids' teachers and school staff. Particularly if you don't like them. Even the grouchy receptionist. Seriously. And if you don't have words of encouragement yet, buy him/her a coffee. Bake some muffins. They have charge of your child; and the more we can do to build partnerships with teachers and staff instead of just complaining about the problems, the better the whole learning experience will be for our kids. I really believe that. And more than that, I really believe that people need grace, a generous, loving dose of unmerited favor. That's what God gives us and tells us to pass on to those around us. They will know we are Christians by our love.

It takes discernment - a lot - to know when to step in and advocate for your child when a serious problem is at hand. But I know you know, in your gut, when that is.

Most of the time, muffins may as well be peace treaties.

BTS Series, Lesson 3

 

Funny how I planned to write this post tonight on kids and emotions, and coincidentally, both my kids were sad and/or crying when I picked them up at school today. Never a good sign.

I take that back. Maybe it is a good sign. Maybe part of the reason my kids were able to express their emotions today is because they know I'm a safe place to dump that stuff. I can't be certain. But I am trying to cultivate a family culture where emotions are embraced and never wrong. How one reacts to them and manages them may very well be wrong, but emotions themselves deserve respect.

You may not agree with me here. But I am of the belief that God created us - ALL of us - as emotional beings. We are meant to feel things, and our feelings are meant to be like indicator lights on a dashboard. They tell us if there is a problem. They tell us when we're out of fuel. They tell us all kinds of information about the health of a vehicle. And so the indicators themselves are never bad or wrong; they just give information. Our reactions to those signals are what can be unhealthy or inappropriate. People who are unable to feel, who have shut down their hearts due to injury, like cars with broken indicator lights, are not functioning as they were meant to. People who choose to numb their emotions are in a similar state of dysfunction; it's the same as driving a car that has all sorts of warning lights flashing and just plastering some duct tape over them.

Something else that keeps our hearts from running smoothly is shame. Many of us have shame connected with our feelings. Have you ever been told any of these?

You shouldn't feel that way.
It's ridiculous for you to feel that way.
Don't be mad.
Don't get so upset.
You're overreacting.
Don't be childish. 
Suck it up.
Toughen up.
Big girls don't cry.

Probably all of us have, at some point. We feel shame when we are told our feelings are not okay or aren't acceptable. Now here's the tricky part. In order to help our kids get an A in Emotion 101, we need to be getting an A ourselves. We need to be comfortable with our own feelings - all of them - in order to accept our children's. For some of us that is a pretty tall order. The shame gets in the way.

Lucky for you, I've become sort of an expert on shame. Can I quickly share a book that really helped me understand why God made me the way that I am? Feminine, emotional, tender? And that God patterned my emotional heart after His own? It's called Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul. It changed me. I think every woman should read it.

Once I got a grip on embracing and respecting my feelings (because I knew God did), I started trying my hardest to validate those of my kids. It's something of which I'm conscious all the time in my mothering. And respecting their feelings is not always easy, because kids don't have the maturity to express their feelings in a very clear or controlled manner, obviously. I mean, many 40 year olds can't do it. Certainly it's way more difficult for my pre-teen daughter to manage hers.

If you've not worked much with your kids' feelings, step one is giving the emotions names. Kids do not know how they feel and they need us to teach them. Even though the result is nearly always crying, you'll be really good at guessing the actual emotion that's causing the tears, especially when they're little. The main emotions we always always always come across and refer to are these:

mad/angry
frustrated
disappointed
sad
scared

Disappointment is a big one. Life is full of disappointments, and kids need to be able to (eventually) cope with small setbacks. The ice cream store being out of her favorite flavor, or a special blankie getting left at grandma's can send a little one into a meltdown. Calmly naming this feeling and showing empathy helps so much. They need to know it's okay for them to feel disappointed (if expressing it in an acceptable way, of course) and that we all deal with disappointment regularly.

Some people think that addressing or even recognizing a child's emotion will just cause him or her to carry on longer. Let's just admit that we are afraid of their emotions; it's understandable since kids are crazy, uncontainable, and unpredictable beings half the time. But honestly, validating their little hearts is actually what HELPS them get the emotion under control. Think about it; at least for me, when someone doesn't respect my feelings, I am only motivated to amp it up and keep expressing it. When I feel heard and understood, then I can much more quickly calm down.

These are other feelings we've dealt with and named, but less often:

nervous
shy
jealous
embarrassed
overwhelmed
annoyed

In my experience, I spent a few years naming their feelings for them, and now they are old enough to not only identify them, but express them to me also. For instance, at two and three and four, my son would just cry or yell when he couldn't fit his Legos together just so. I told him, "Wow! You are really frustrated. Would you like some help?" Now, he just growls, "Ughhhh! I'm so frustrated!!" Or this past weekend, as I got on his case for not cleaning his room, he exclaimed, "I'm just really overwhelmed and you know I can't work when I'm overwhelmed!" It was cute because he's only 8. But I could completely relate; it's hard for me to be productive when I'm overwhelmed too. And I was so glad he could tell me how he felt, because I clearly needed to change my parenting course.

My daughter, on the other hand, has a very deep soul, but struggles to find the words to express herself. It's just her personality. So when I can see she's upset or having a hard time, I find a private space for us to chat and ask her to tell me two feeling words. Then I wait very patiently for her to find them. Sometimes it takes a long time. Sometimes, I give her a list (choose Soul Word List, then amend for kids) from which to choose, so she can remember the names of feelings. Starting a conversation with feeling words tells her that no matter how she feels, it's acceptable, I can take it, and I'm really interested in hearing her heart.

And lastly, I share my feelings with them. I don't want to be seen simply as a chef/maid/chauffeur to my kids. I want them to understand I'm a person with feelings too. That I get hurt when someone says something mean. That I feel nervous when I'm meeting new people. That I feel jealous when a friend gets to do something I wish I could do. That I feel annoyed when someone shoots a Nerf dart at my face. I tell them these kinds of things regularly, naming my feelings, and modeling (most of the time!) self-controlled reactions.

It really touched me the other day when I announced I was going to dinner with a friend for the first time since we've been in Montana. As I was leaving, my son said, "Tomorrow I want to hear all about it!" I thought, "Wow, I'm not just a servant to him. I'm a person who may or may not have a fun time, who may have ideas and feelings to share, who is valuable to him." It was a great reminder: when you show interest in the feelings of another, they feel valuable and loved.

I hope we can help our kids feel valuable and loved this school year; they will certainly have many, many feelings about it all.

BTS Series, Lesson 2

 

Sometimes I feel like sending my kids back to school is the equivalent of throwing them to the wolves.

Suddenly they are out of my care, my protection. I feel this most right after summer, when I've been constantly able to monitor them. Our days have felt safe and controlled.

It's tempting to let a number of fears creep in as a new school season begins. The 'wolves' on the schoolyard never seem far enough away. Naturally I want to protect my kids from negative things like bullying, exposure to foul or inappropriate language, and the kinds of things to which my child may be introduced through another child. But I also feel a reactive instinct to shield them from other negative experiences that school may bring, things like failure, rejection, and conflict with others.

My mama HEART wants my children to be constantly happy. It wants my children to be insulated from all forms of discomfort and injury. At the same time, my mothering BRAIN knows that kind of insulation is not only impossible, but also would not allow my children to grow into healthy, capable adults.

So I have this constant battle within. I think it's obvious God wired us with this inner conflict for a reason. Many good reasons. We are to provide protection for our kids in many ways, but also we are to ensure a supportive environment for helping them learn to cope with the harder stuff of life. And in my experience, every mother has one of these sides of herself winning more often that the other, and that can be a bad thing. Letting our protection instincts consistently win means we can become overly sheltering, rescuing our kids from discomforts of life that they need in order to mature.

It's a fine line, and it's hard to know when to step in and rescue our kids. It's hard to know at what age a child should be encouraged to handle one thing or another. And sometimes we have no choice. An unexpected tragedy could expose a child to pain for which they are in no way prepared or able to manage. Even on my best mothering days, I can't keep all the variables under my control. Does that thought alone send a little shiver through your mama heart? It does mine.

My daughter had a lot of very typical little girl conflict with other little girls in her class when she was 6 and 7. She was alone a lot at recess. She couldn't quite find a loyal friend (because how many loyal 6 year olds do you know?). Those years, she wandered around, felt lonely, and withdrew. It was so hard for me to watch. I tried conspiring with other moms to help her connect. Playdates came and went. But I grew to understand that much of the situation hinged on my girl and her personality; I could try to teach her how to be a friend, but I couldn't change the way she was wired, and I couldn't insulate her from the discomfort that came from how that impacted her school relationships.

I could, however, provide comfort. To be comforted is one of the most important needs our children have. We spend so much time worrying about how to protect them that I feel we miss out on the more important matter: generously comforting them when something goes wrong. And eventually, things will go wrong. You know it to be true. When a situation really goes south for one of my kids, personally I can get overwhelmed with my own feelings of anxiety and confusion, watching my son or daughter suffer. I forget that in those times, what they need most is not a rescuer; they need a brave and tender comforter. They need empathy. They need me to tell them that hurt is normal and some lessons come hard.

"Insults have broken my heart,
and I am in despair.
I waited for sympathy,
but there was none;
for comforters, but found no one."
Psalm 69:20

We know a couple of marriage counselors from our CA church, authors and speakers in their field, who report that only 1 in 10 adults can recall a difficult time in their childhood where they were comforted by a parent. 1 in 10. That is a scary statistic, in my books. We are all at risk of being parents who focus more on rescuing from pain and less on comforting through it. Thankfully, the Bible gives us some guidance on the matter.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.
2 Corinthians 1:3-5

God is actually teaching us how to be comforters whenever we ourselves are comforted by Him. Jesus is the best parent ever and this is what He says to his son Simon Peter in Luke 22:

“Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.”

My mama heart races with anxiety at this passage. Jesus - again, the best parent ever - is not even glancing in the direction of rescuing Peter from Satan's assault. Could you say that to your child? Because if I'm all powerful, I'm thinking I'd say, "Hey, Satan wants to throw you down, but I had my three best angels kick his ass!" Yes I just wrote that. I'd make a really bad Jesus. I mean, how do YOU feel when your kid gets pushed down at the park? I know how. You think of all the acceptable ways you could regulate on that other evil child who dares lay a hand on your precious baby.

Instead, Jesus does not rescue. He offers encouragement. Comfort. And guidance for Peter's future. Right after this scene, Peter betrays Jesus three times and endures what was likely one of the most painful failures of his life. Jesus knew that was coming! And I can guarantee it was incredibly difficult for Him to watch his son suffer so much. We'll never know how this series of events impacted Peter's ministry. But the Bible gives us a good glimpse of what a powerful witness for the gospel he became.

Though my mama heart feels panicked at the thought of stopping myself from rescuing, my mama brain understands. Kids need to grow into healthy adults. And it will take a lot more than eating vegetables to get them there.

Insulation is best left for coats. In a Montana winter, I hear the ones filled with down are best. But we simply can't insulate our kids from all pain and suffering. If you are following Jesus day by day, you'll know when to step in and take action. The Holy Spirit will give you the sense that you should do some rescuing, make a change, or hold someone accountable for his or her actions. But that decision will not and should not be driven by fear. It should be driven by Jesus. He knows how best to parent our kids, and really, we can't make wise decisions in parenting without hearing from Him first.

I'll sign off with the prayer that's in my heart right now:

Lord, help me to stop myself from being a fear-driven parent. Help me to trust you more, to make wise choices in my mothering, and to be more of a Jesus-driven parent. Help me to seek your counsel every day. And remind me to comfort my children when their hearts are broken with the comfort you've shown me. Thank you so much for being the best parent ever, a perfect model for me to imitate. And thank you for making me brave. Amen.



{footnote: I didn't learn how to truly comfort my children until I read this book. Before that, I think I was not only afraid of them having negative experiences, I was afraid of them having negative feelings too. So I marginalized their feelings, said silly things like "Everything will be fine," and didn't truly hear their broken hearts for a few years. Giving comfort is not putting a band-aid of happy words on a wound. It's looking directly at the wound, validating how much it hurts, and not asking it to heal any faster than it needs to.}

BTS Series, Lesson 1

So we're back at it, sending our kids to school. 

Be it public, private, charter, co-op, part-time, virtually ANYTHING besides shutting them in their rooms all day long, we are exposing them to the outside world.

And this world - this horribly broken world in which we live - presses in on us. If our kids are compared to balls of clay, then many things can leave an impression. The question I have today is this: How can we, as mothers, leave the strongest and most influential one?

Well, I don't have ALL the answers, and I'm sure innumerable books have been written on the subject. But I thought I'd share some strategies I've come up with to maintain my relationships with my children when they are no longer around me most hours of the day.

I'll start with a little background. Last year sometime, things got a little crazy. I gradually lost sight of my real job as a mother, and instead tried to perfect my less important jobs of time manager, homework supervisor, activities director...you get my drift. This happens as your kids get older, I've noticed. I suddenly realized that the main two windows of time I had to spend exclusively with my kids during the week, the morning shift and the after school shift, had been reduced to me barking orders and getting frustrated if my small people didn't act like robots completing their responsibilities.

I hated that realization.

And I knew I needed my precious few hours with them per day to be very different. Now, here are some ways I approach those two windows in an effort to maintain my influential ground.

1. Before school time stays positive.

First of all, I am not a morning person; I don't feel much like talking to anyone, eating anything, or investing in relationships anytime before 9 a.m. But the reality is that I have to engage with, provide for, and encourage my two small people starting at 6:30. I wasn't doing it very well before. Now I am. And I've learned that I, maybe more than some moms, have to exert a lot of effort to be a good mom in the early hours of the day. I force a happier tone of voice. I ask questions nicely about how prepared they are and what kind of cereal they want. I try to make sure I've given them some physical affection too. Then in the car, we listen to worship music, talk, or tell funny, made up stories about their stuffed animals on the way to school. None of it is what I FEEL like doing. I promise. But this short window is the launching point of their hours without me. They then get sent out into the battlefield of childhood. That day, they may feel small, or unseen, or they may get laughed at for something they say. They may fail a test or make a bad choice. They may get their hearts broken. But before they walk out MY door, I want to leave a strong and positive impression so they know I'm on their side. I know them. I'm a safe, accepting place. It's really so hard for me to do in the morning before my brain is even awake, but I work hard at it now. Maybe all this morning business is natural for you. But for me, it takes work.

And do I even need to say that some days, all this fails and some people are crying? I didn't think so. Life is messy, and grace is important. Especially for yourself as a mom.

2. After school time includes connecting.

During the season when I realized I was losing influential ground, when I realized being AROUND them was not the same as being connected WITH them, I noticed our nightly reading-together time had been squeezed out by classroom demands that the kids read every night independently. And I was getting too tired from the days activities to muster up the energy for it anyways. That's when we started what I called Padgett Book Club. As soon as they came home from school, my focus was turned toward them. Instead of me rushing them to the table to complete a pile of homework, they got a mental break. I showed interest in being with them, not necessarily peppering them with questions about the day, but I stated up front that any questions or problems they encountered at school would certainly take precedence. We made a snack together, and then I read aloud to them while they ate it. By the way, this tradition is continuing, and my kids are 8 and 11. They still love it.

One reason I chose to make this happen was because I was getting a little too used to my time off from mothering. This didn't happen for me until they were both in full-day elementary school. The big chunk of time off allowed me to get more involved in projects or activities of my own that I had a hard time pulling away from once they got home. Again, they would come home from school, but my mind would be on the thing I had just gotten interrupted doing when I had to go pick them up. It could have been a fine thing...cleaning or folding or grocery shopping. Maybe a very legitimate job of mine. Or maybe just an overly ambitious craft. The activity didn't matter though. It was more about where my head was. I had to reconsider which jobs were my priorities, and which ones were the true interruptions? Are my children interrupting my jobs, or are my other jobs interfering with my relationships with my children? I learned to stop myself. And I'm still learning, because it's hard. I shut off all the things going on in my brain and I focus on my kids. It's as simple and as difficult as that.

By the way, when my oldest first started preschool and I had a younger one still, my version of connecting after school looked like this. On the drive home, we'd chat in the car. (To this day, my kids know that "Nothing," and "I don't know," are not answers I accept when I ask about their day. I would kindly encourage them, "Use the good brain God gave you and think of one thing to share." And then wait. It never failed. I'm hopeful this has given us a foundation of openness about their time they spend away from me at school.) When we got home and little guy went down for his nap, my big girl and I would have a snack date. I'd make a special snack - the same for BOTH of us - sit across the table from her, and chat with her more about anything. The point was connection. The point was making sure she knew I liked her, I wanted to know her, and I loved to be with her. Ugh, that last bit gave me a lump in my throat.

In each season of the young ages, I tried hard to maximize one on one time, until, finally, they were both old enough to follow along in the same book and we could spend that quality time together.

So I guess the bottom line here is this. Holding your influential ground when you lose hours with your kids during the school year is not so much about lecturing and teaching and trying to make that lasting impression on the ball of clay. The lasting impression, I'm guessing, is simply a natural result of a positive, loving relationship. If your child has more of a positive relationship with their peers, their teacher, their coach, or their choice of entertainment, then those things or people will most likely have more of an influence on them. I know it's healthy for those influencers to shift as they get closer to adulthood. But I'm certainly not willing to lose my influence on my children right now, and by accident. By carelessness.

Making the most of the short windows of time during the week is what I shoot for. And then I lecture sometimes too. I'm really good at lecturing. But I know deep down, it is not the heart of love. Relationship is. Time and touch and listening and snacks.

We will have to fight for consistent opportunities to connect with our kids. I know it. Our phones and our friends and our blogs and our schedules will compete against our children for our attention. I pray that we both make better choices this year in those little windows, for those little souls.

Why enjoying Mother's Day is so hard

 

It's a crazy paradox, this Mother's Day business.

The reason it is so difficult for us mothers to enjoy Mother's Day is because we are mothers. We are highly skilled at giving to others, and highly horrible at receiving from them. It is impossible that a mother was the one who invented Mother's Day. A mother would have never suggested everyone else take a day to honor her. I'm sure it was a man. Men are typically great at respecting and honoring their mothers.

And mothers? Well, we stink at letting ourselves be honored.

On the other hand, we're amazing at pouring out into our loved ones.

We know unconditional love. We teach love every day.

No one on earth can take better care of our people than we can. We are irreplaceable.

We are experts in the thousand most important details of our children's lives. Hands down, no contest.

But get us to enjoy a day revolving around us? That's as likely as getting a walk-in appointment with the pediatrician on a Monday morning.

The fact is that somewhere between the positive pregnancy test and potty training, we totally forgot how to be honored. In the unrelenting, hard labor of learning how to lay down our lives, we grew quite skilled at giving to others, and quite unfamiliar with taking for ourselves.

I've heard many a mom friend say something like, "I just feel so guilty when I take time for myself..."

There you have it: it is so bad that we have criminalized meeting our own needs. And that's just backwards, isn't it? Of course! How can we fill anyone else unless we ourselves are filled up first? I think the ones who understand most our need to be prioritized are our husbands. That's why they will try, this Mother's Day, to treat us, in their own ways. To bless us. To make our kids wear scratchy button-up shirts because they know that's what we want.

And the best response we can have, the most loving thing we can do, is to enjoy it.

First of all, who am I to deny my husband the chance to love and honor me in front of my children? Not allowing them to pamper me a bit is denying them the blessing of serving.

And second of all, enjoying the day means remembering how valuable we are as mothers, and realizing how crucial it is for our children to see that. We deserve honor (wow, it's hard for me even to type the words), and our kids need to see that we believe it. It is damaging to our children's development to allow them to believe we are simply maids, short order cooks, and chauffeurs.

I know not every family works the same way. Many moms serve their families while receiving no appreciation or honor from their loved ones. That's sad, and that's not how God designed the family to function. But it is reality because we live in a broken world. In fact, our own brokenness is what keeps us from understanding our worth. But God knows it. He tells it. No one will ever affirm your role as a mother better than the one who gave you the role in the first place. To the unappreciated mother, I say let Him. Open your heart to hear the Lord's whispers of love and sincere validation for the job you are doing. He smiles when He sees you love on that child He gave you.

I need His validation, I forget who I am. I forget why I am. And while I'll probably get choked up by the loving cards from my family members today, I need God's affirmation most. He's the only one who really sees what kind of mother I am, what things about this job threaten to break me, and what my deepest desires for my family are. He hears every plea I make on their behalf, and He teaches me how to mother best.

 

So friends, I am going to try my hardest to enjoy the day. I will smile, be gracious, and say "Thank you!" when my husband and children make efforts to love me. I will not apologize for allowing them to do some of my dirty work. I will not hinder them from finding the blessing in serving me. 

Oh, it won't be a perfect day. Someone will be crying at some point, or arguing, or being selfish (and it may even be me!). Again. Broken world. But love covers a multitude of sins.

Let love cover them.

Let love cover you.

Happy Mother's Day.

On becoming real

 

 

Patches is quite a special horse, the best friend of my little guy.

A much cleaner, fluffier version of this guy came into his life when he was two. My mom took my daughter to buy my son something special the day he broke his leg, and with a musical Lightning McQueen card that sang, "Life is a Highway," this little horse found a new home.

Since then, my son has imagined an entire back story for Patches. He is a president, naturally, of an island called Patchifornia. He has three brothers (other stuffed guys), who all hold offices on this island. They are inseparable, meaning all have to accompany my son on trips and adventures. Patches has his own song, his own "voice," he has a unique and sassy personality, and he is always getting into trouble.



My son and I joke around about Patches all the time. It's something we often do at bedtime, and I can get him laughing by imagining all sorts of funny conversations among the three of us. A couple days ago, we were in one of these typical silly conversations revolving around Patches. I don't remember why, but at one point, I suggested that perhaps the scruffy horse was not yet a Christian. Well, that got my son right up into the business of securing the poor horse's eternal position. And with a grin and a funny voice, he pressed two hooves together and pretended Patches was praying, asking Jesus to come into his little horsey heart.

We continued to giggle at the thought of a stuffed horse praying to receive Christ, until it was suddenly very quiet. I watched my son raise Patches to his eye level and stare at the dingy cotton face for a few moments. Then gravely, he cried, "MOM! I think he is really smiling."

And he believed it.

As I sit here typing, I'm astonished to realize my son was looking for a change, knowing the magnitude of this prayer, no matter who says it. And with the eyes of his seven year old heart, he saw that horse become real.

I felt a pang in my own heart, the Holy Spirit whispering that it's true: the moment we surrender our lives to Jesus is indeed the moment we become real.

But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.
Ephesians 2:4-5




This weekend we celebrate the One who gives us life, who makes us real. Jesus was the only man to walk the face of this earth fully real, fully able to be His truest self from day one.

I love how the Jesus Storybook Bible puts it:

For anyone who says yes to Jesus

For anyone who believes what Jesus said

For anyone who will just reach out to take it

Then God will give them this wonderful gift:

 

To be born into

A whole new Life

To be who they really are

Who God always made them to be

Their own true selves

God's dear

Child.

Before I asked Jesus to come into my life, before I stepped down from the throne, let's face it. I was only stuff and fluff putting on a good show. Dead, dingy, pretending. So much pretending.

This Easter, if you haven't ever trusted Jesus with your whole life, I encourage you to ask Him to show you who He is. In the Bible, God promises that any who seek Him with his or her whole heart will surely find Him. He will make Himself known. It is not a maybe, which is why when someone tells me, "Oh, I just don't know...I've been searching for God for years, and I'm just not sure..." I know that he or she has never sought God sincerely.

You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.
Jeremiah 29:13

If you've at all been wrestling with who you are, or who you were made to be, I will tell you that the answer starts with Jesus. His definition is what you've been longing for, to become your truest self. We live constantly itchy in our skin, pretending and managing our way through, until we allow Him to make us real.

All pretending stops with Jesus because He takes away all the garbage we otherwise have to manage, all the shame, all the deep down ugliness in ourselves we come face to face with daily. Pretending is just the way we manage our sin and shame. His blood shed on the cross destroyed the power of that garbage. It wiped our slates clean. Accepting Jesus means you have no sin or shame left to manage. He managed it, to the death. Forever.

That's what makes you your truest self; that's what turns you real. Freedom.

Jesus did His part. All you have to do is accept it. That's it.

If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.
Romans 10:9

It's so simple even a stuffed horse can do it. Okay, you know I'm kidding, right? Don't send me emails. I know Patches does not really have an eternal soul. But we do. And pretending is so exhausting.  

Thank you Lord for giving us a chance to trade our stuff and fluff for a real heart that belongs to You.

November Thanks-living {a trip to my hometown}

We went away for Thanksgiving this year. Back to my hometown, where my in-laws still live.

It's about 2 hours away, but took 3 with traffic, as we cut through Los Angeles during a holiday week.

As I look back on our 4 night stay, I feel thankful for so much.

I'm thankful for my car that has never given us any problems for the last 7 years. I'm thankful for the luxuries it was stuffed with; the kids' pillows and blankies, a big box of Legos, the cupcake maker, and so much more. We have a good life, overflowing with material blessings. Our Volvo runneth over.

I'm thankful for my traveling companions. Readers, the whole lot of them. (Except the 3 hours and the reading didn't go so well for this guy. We had to pull over, get some fresh air and a 7-Up.)

I'm so thankful for that joyful smile. She is a happy and fun and childish big girl. Childish in a good way. Innocent. Not afraid to be herself. I remember this post I wrote about her what seems like forever ago...I wasn't so sure how her self-confidence would change with age. I'm thankful that most of the time, she knows who she is. I mean, that's pretty good for all of us, right?  To most of the time be sure-footed in one's identity?

I'm thankful for my hometown, the warmth I felt, the familiarity and nostalgia I had from living in this comfortable, safe suburb for the first 20 years of my life. God first called me here and I met Him, and got to know Him in this town.

But most of all, I'm so very thankful for my family.

The family my husband has brought with him into my life - his parents and siblings and their families - have taught me so much. All the stories I hear of conflict involving in-laws don't apply to my experience. Though my husband's family culture is very different from the one in which I grew up, it has helped me become a more balanced person just as a spouse's differences can help regulate one's immature areas. I don't know if that made sense to you. But I'm saying I'm grateful for them in my life, and I wouldn't be the same person I am today without their love, support, and influence. 

It would be nice to show a photo of them here. But we were so relaxed and enjoying our time being together (and let's not forget all the eating, eating, eating) that I never thought of it. In my hometown, in their home, I was truly in vacation mode. And I felt blessed to high heaven the whole time. 

And lastly, look at this. Here is a photo of Jami and I. We are sitting at a Peet's Coffee wishing we had more time to chat and laughing about something I don't remember anymore. Jami and I met through blogging, before I knew she lived in my hometown. I loved her blog and how she shared her heart and her journey with God in such a humble way. It turns out that we went to rival high schools, graduated one year apart from each other, and she even attended my same church youth group from time to time. Yet we never met. And God is so tricky because He brought us together through blogging. Isn't that sort of weird? When I started blogging, I just never expected I'd meet a friend online and then start hanging out with her regularly.

Like we were supposed to be friends all along. I'm thankful for a God who sees past what seems weird, and meets our needs, however He sees fit.



Jami is just one of the many friends I've met in the blog world. Who would have guessed there was a community of Godly women seeking my same BFF named Jesus just like I am, writing about Him, sharing His stories, and doing their best to honor him as wives and mommies? Who knew?
For that, I'm so thankful.

Because this is fun, this blogging thing. I'm coming up on three years soon, and it keeps getting better. Really.

So what were you thankful for this month? It shoud be an easy one. It's November. You've already thought about it! So link up, homies.

(And know I'm thankful for you too. Always.)

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Sort of appalled my kids are not like me

It's strange how instinctual it is for a parent to subconsciously expect her child to be like she is.

I don't realize it, but I must expect them to be like me, or else I wouldn't be so surprised and thrown off when I find out they're not, right?  I don't know why, exactly. In my brain, I knew my kids would NOT turn out to be carbon copies of me, nor did I ever want them to be. But because I couldn't predict exactly HOW they would differ from me, I suppose, I end up bewildered when it actually happens.

Know what I'm talking about?

This is all coming back to me now, with school in full swing. I go through this every year, this process: "Oh yeah, okay. My child is not me. My child is not the same student I was. My child is not the same kid on the playground that I was. My child is not the same child I was." I have to recalibrate to not only acknowledge they are different, but also add, "...and that's not the worst thing."

Case in point.

Every fall, I feel stressed because my daughter doesn't quickly mesh with a group of friends. She floats. She sometimes hangs out all alone, or draws at the lunch tables, or reads a book. I was a more social kid, and so I have to stop myself from giving her pep talks on how to make a friend, be a friend, and so on. I tried that for about two years, and it didn't work. Incidentally, she is not stressed about her social interactions. I am. The ten-year old Leslie thought that being alone at recess was the worst thing in the world. While communication with her and training can be helpful at times, she is her own self, and doesn't need me trying to talk her into being someone else (ie. me).

So now, I go through this process of remembering,

"Oh yeah. She doesn't have that tight-knit friend group. And that's not the worst thing."

"Oh yeah. She forgets things in her desk, hesitates to ask questions when she needs help, and says she doesn't like school. And that's not the worst thing."

"Oh yeah. My son sometimes gets in trouble for doing compulsive things like rock throwing. And that's not the worst thing."

"Oh yeah. Boys pick up potty talk at school from each other. And that's not the worst thing."

See the pattern? I've learned to underreact at the things that used to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Trust me. I stressed out about all these things at one time or another.

Even when other moms are all up in arms about the girl drama or the potty talk, I really try to remember that my kids are a part of their own stories...God's own stories...and those are sacred. Perhaps my daughter's lack of connections on the playground leads her to a deeper friendship with Jesus. Perhaps my son's compulsivity leads us to a life-changing discussion on walking in the power of the Holy Spirit. I don't know, yet, how those issues will unfold, because I'm not the one ultimately in charge of their stories.

Yes, of course, I'm their greatest influence, and if you've been around here for any time at all, you know it's a huge priority of mine to be intentional in my mothering and the spiritual shepherding of my kids.

However, as they age, I will continue to lose control over their immediate circumstances and social interactions. That is precisely why I am in the business of equipping them for life when we're together! At this point, I need to focus on the continual adjustment of my expectations and push down that instinct to panic when things aren't going the way I'd hoped for them, even in the tiniest of circumstances.

I'd love for my kids to say they love school. But really, is it the worst thing in the world if they are the kids who say they don't?? Is it the worst thing ever for my introverted daughter to want to be alone at recess? Or for my son to learn a hard lesson from a school authority because he made a bad choice? Of course not!   Not only are these examples not the worst thing, but they are pieces of who my kids are, who God is shaping them to be. It's such a great reminder that I'm soooo not in charge of who my children were created to be, and who they will become. I've been given authority over them and responsibility for them, to an extent. But my job as a mother is limited, not infinite. The God of the universe has much bigger and better (and more loving) plans for them than I ever could.

It's freeing, isn't it? God sees my son and daughter at school. And in His divine, perfect wisdom, He helps me equip them at home to face the challenges HE KNOWS they will face. I can rest in that truth.

I may, at times, be shocked at how different from me my children are, but watching their stories be written by their Father who loves them....well, that will never cease to bless me.

Teachable Moment: Fears in the night

This just happened five minutes ago. It's parenting lessons in real time on the blog tonight.

What's funny is that in a good parenting moment, I don't usually feel like I know exactly what to say to my child. I hash it out as I go. (Don't we all?) And often, like tonight, as I walk through a sticky situation, what I believe materializes even more clearly.

When I teach some important truth to my child, I reteach it to myself.

Know what I mean?

My son, who gets up typically a few times every night for all the reasons you'd guess, just came out of his room to ask if there could possibly be any "emergencies" tonight. Last night, by the way, he came out to ask if I was doing anything that could cause a fire.

I know this boy like the back of my hand, and I can basically read his mind, at least in this area. This is what's happening. He is lying in bed, restless and awake (just like I am for a good hour before sleeping), letting his mind get carried away with fears. For a while, he was afraid of someone coming in his window (I have NO idea how he landed on that creepy possibility. We don't talk about those kinds of sad stories, or even watch the news. I say it's straight from the enemy.) But lately, his fears are more home disaster themed.

So while I held him, I was tempted - SO tempted - to make promises I couldn't keep. For instance, as a loving, nurturing mommy who wants more than anything for her child to feel safe and secure, it's so tempting to say:

"Oh, honey. Nothing like that is going to happen."
"Awww, our house isn't going to catch on fire. You're perfectly safe."
"Little buddy, daddy and I aren't going to let anything bad happen to you."

As if we have total control. The more I was tempted to give him false reassurances, the more I began to flat out REFUSE to tell my child something that wasn't 100% bullet proof. As my heart ruffled through all the possible responses to his fears, I only had one thing left to say to him. It was like I pulled every piece of paper out of the file cabinet until only one remained.

(And by the way, I didn't say this all sappy and sweetly. I took his bony shoulders in my hands, looked him in the eye, and used my serious voice.)  I said, "I can't tell you what's going to happen because I don't know the future. But I DO know the most important thing, the only thing I can promise you: God loves you, bud. He sees you, he knows what you need, and HE is a bigger, stronger protector than even daddy and I."

He asked more questions, not quite getting it. Alright, he's only 7. He pressed the "fire" thing, still wondering if my husband or I EVER do any activities at night that could lead to a fire. He even said, "So what are the other things that can cause a fire..." No. I continued to REFUSE to entertain and feed the fear gripping his heart. I told him instead he needed to STOP the fears by talking to God and then trusting Him, because He is BIGGER and STRONGER than anything that could happen.

Friends, I will not tell him life will be all sunshine and rainbows. There are horrible floods in the south right now. We could have a record-breaking earthquake in the middle of the night. I know people who have lost everything to house fire. EVERYTHING. When my son asked with terror in his eyes, "Well, if we have a fire, will I be able to grab my stuff?" Don't you think every bit of my being wanted to say "YES! You'll always have your blankies and your guys and your favorite Legos." That's what he wanted to hear. But do I want him to lean on lies or on Jesus? That is the question I had to ask in the moment.

I want Him to lean on Jesus. And that's it.

Because one day, fear of losing his blankie will become fear of losing his job.
Fear of someone coming in his window will become fear of someone breaking his heart.
And the list goes on.

I knew tonight I needed to water that one seed that was planted a few years ago in his heart....a seed of faith.

Faith needs roots to weather the real, ripping storms of life. And roots grow when one's faith is tried.

I'm choosing to step into my little buddy's faith-trying storm, not shield him from it.

Lord have mercy, because I'm sure it's not the last time.

linking up with Amanda, here {a tad late}

On not being a fun mom {and the linky button}

{my two kiddos, mid-hike to the top of a volcanic crater)

I think some of you have been tricked into thinking I'm a fun mom. I'd say I'm a creative mom, an intentional mom, and a great teacher to my kids. But fun? Not so much.

I guess when I place myself outside that "fun mom" box, it's because I know other moms who belong in it. They play Hot Wheels and fifty rounds of Go Fish and they go in the water. And while I do those things on occasion, they are just not part of what best defines me as a mom. I've always been a sort of serious person. Even though both my parents are really fun and social people, I was just always more analytical, more a thinker, less a doer. My mom tells a story about my first school experience, where my Kindergarten teacher approached her and asked if I was okay since I never talked. Well, Mrs. Fox (that was her name), guess what? I was just examining all you people and the whole school situation before I jumped right into the finger painting, kay? 

So I've come to have a little bit of a complex about not being very fun. I think it comes down to not being very good at playing. I never have been. I wasn't really that fun as a kid, or a high schooler, or a college student...or a mom. I'm great at doing fun things with my kids for the purpose of teaching them something or experiencing something together. But I'm not so good at sitting and playing. I honestly don't really know what to do. Sadly, I think that's the definition of grown-up, according to Peter Pan.

The thing is, I also don't know what's worse: being the mom who doesn't play very much, or the mom who is labeling herself as "not fun" thereby possibly making this characteristic a way bigger deal than it actually is (I mean, my kids don't really know any different, right?).

Maybe neither are all that bad. After all, I have many other fine qualities ('member that post?).

This summer, I've had a lot more opportunities to be fun. My parents so generously took our whole family to Hawaii. I immediately knew we'd have some chances to do things outside of my usual choices for activities. And I took them as challenges to which I could rise. So I hiked in a volcano crater. I went on stage with my daughter at the luau. I went in the water, a lot. I even went on the water slide at the hotel (once) and swam at the base of a waterfall. Friends, these are not things I'd typically choose, but I chose to choose them, if that makes sense. And I loved it.

On not being "fun," I realized I need to give myself some grace in two ways. Firstly, part of having grace for myself means being okay with saying, "No guys, not today," when they all beg me to come to the pool. I need not feel bad about myself as a mom. I do have many other fine qualities. But the other side of that same grace-coin is that I can choose to step out of the label I've given myself. I can go in the water, not just to "take one for the team", but I can actually enjoy myself.

I'm free to be outside all boxes, and I'm free to grow. That's what freedom in Christ is all about, isn't it? Let's not limit what He offers us to simply our spiritual state. I think Jesus wants me to walk in freedom in all areas of my life.

I can choose to take my husband's hand and kick out way beyond my water comfort zone to snorkel too. And I did. Some of my best memories from our trip were doing just that, just the two of us, seeing things in the sea that I've never seen before. We followed a beautiful sea turtle for about five minutes as it silently, gracefully flew through the water. It was magical, actually.

It was more than that. It was God's gift to me; he knows how much I love animals, and perhaps He was cheering on my freedom. I remember that afternoon and think, "That was fun." I was fun. After I willfully pushed aside my pretty substantial fears of deep water, of the surf, and the mystery of what may be beneath me, the experience was exhilarating. I also felt really blessed to have my husband, expert of all things water-related, and his strong hand to hold. At the end of the day, his encouragement was what made me try.

I know lots of moms who struggle with not feeling "fun." I pray that today, you'd claim your freedom in Christ: freedom to accept yourself as you are, as well as the freedom to choose differently in the future if the opportunity arises.

And on a totally different note, here is the button for my first linky on Friday called Thanks-living. To read more about it, click here. I spent two hours today figuring out how to write this code all by my big girl self. So take advantage of it and put it in your post if you decide to link up! (Let's hope it works.) Love you all.

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P.S. Today we went to the beach. I went in the water. {Just saying.}

Back to School Tool #2: A Parenting Refresher

I have to admit that I sort of dread back-to-school season in a couple of respects.

1. The very early getting-ready portion of the weekdays
2. The afternoon homework portion of the weekdays

Now, if you consider that my kids are in school (ie. not with me) for the middle portion, then I'm not loving about MOST of the time we are actually spending together.

The main reason is that I know from experience those two windows of time can go really badly. I can drop my kids off at school and be crying by the time I'm home because I realize I was a bear of a mother that morning. Or I can lose my patience later in the day because sometimes homework sessions are rough.

I cracked this book open recently and knew I needed a parenting refresher. Serious. I need to be ready to take on the added pressure and changed dynamics that the school season brings to my home.

Tool #2: a parenting refresher

I also want to be armed with ideas. Most importantly, I want to confidently say that the schedule and added responsibility won't take over the peace and joy in our home.

This book, if you are not familiar with it, is an adaptation of my favorite parenting book of almost the same name, How to Talk so Kids Will Listen, and Listen so Kids Will Talk. If you have a child who is over the age of 2, in my opinion, you should read it. Cover to cover. Once a year. It's incredibly practical, and I guarantee some of the things you do and say to your child will be in the column of examples of what NOT to do and say. Each mom I know who has read it says that's been true for her.

So a few years ago, I purchased this version, How to Talk so Kids Can Learn, geared more towards school-related scenarios. Honestly, I bought it because I was a downright mess in trying to work with my daughter during homework time, and I knew it was primarily me who was the problem. Also, this version is written with teachers in mind. Well, I don't homeschool, but I definitely consider myself a teacher. I am, in fact, my children's first and most important teacher. That's what a mother is.

Here are some glimpses at what this book contains. It came as a surprise to me that it contained these cartoonish examples. And over time, I've come to love them. They depict very realistic scenes, and this one that I photographed is one example where I am the parent in the "What not to say" column. UGH.

Also, here are some chapters I need to reread. Like yesterday. Aren't they totally piquing your interest??

I'm actually not trying to sell you on these books. I'm just saying that one way I want to prepare for back-to-school is to refresh my parenting skills. ('Cause at least for me, it doesn't all come naturally!)

Maybe when you're out purchasing stuff in preparation for back to school - clothing, binders, and backpacks - stop at the library or bookstore and find something to prepare your own heart for good, solid mothering during the transition back to a more rigid schedule.

After school starts, my daily time with my children grows short. God knows how much I intensely desire to make the most of the hours I do have, showering them with love and grace.

Have a great weekend, friends.

Back to School Tool #1: Stationery

God in heaven knows how much I love school supplies. It's possibly the only fun part of going back to school. That, and new fall clothes (wishing I was still a student somehow). So while we are in the midst of buying new backpacks and closed-toed shoes for our kids, I thought I'd share some less traditional Back-to-School Tools with you that I have in my arsenal - ones you may not have considered before.

Tool #1: the cute stationery you never use (because who relies on snail mail anymore)

Let me explain. A few years back, one of my kids had a teacher that I was not loving. I didn't know her prior to that year. But within the first week, I had had an earful of her complaining and whining over everything. She had a very negative attitude, and would even ramble about personal problems to the volunteer mothers during class time and play the victim in some unfolding drama in her mind. As if I needed another person complaining and whining in my life, next I had other parents gossipping about her to me. Even though I knew I didn't want to gossip or jump on the complain-train myself, I grew increasingly nervous about the quality of teaching that was taking place and started to feel mom panic. If you're a mom, you know what that is.

I confided in a friend who has no connection to our area and she gave me some of the best advice I've ever received. Basically, it boiled down to "love your enemies." But with stationery.

My friend is quite the card writer. I'm sure she, personally, is helping to keep the USPS alive and well. She suggested that I do what she does. She has kids older than I do, and so has had more hard-to-love teacher experiences. During the most difficult year, her strategy became writing the teacher notes of encouragement. WEEKLY. She shared how shocked other moms were when, at the end of the year, this icy, old crag of a woman whom her son had as a teacher threw her arms around my friend's neck in a big hug.

UGH. I thought, thinking of my own situation, "What in the world would I write to this woman? I can't think of anything she is doing right to encourage...." So I started simply. It went something like this:

Dear Mrs. __________,
I just wanted to send you a note of thanks for the hard work you are putting in daily to know and nurture each of the children in your class. It must not be easy to start off a year with a whole new bunch! I'm sure I'd have no idea how to manage that many kids, much less teach them well. I look forward to helping in the class, and please let me know how I can best help. __________'s favorite thing to do so far has been the art. It's going to be a great year.
Sincerely....

You get the idea. I'm not sure I maintained a weekly note delivery, but I can promise you this: I wrote her notes until my heart changed. Until I began to see her as a fellow flawed human being, not simply for what she could give to my family. I began to observe that the gossipping moms saw the teacher as merely a tool for gaining something. She wasn't a person to them; And I'm ashamed to say that she wasn't to me, at first, either. And after my heart changed, I kept writing those notes, but for different reason: I truly cared about her.

Think of the numbers of complaints teachers much get each year. Now think of the numbers of notes of encouragement they receive when it's not a holiday or teacher appreciation week when everyone does so out of etiquette. Maybe zero. And that person is likely spending more hours with your child than you are! Isn't that fact alone a reason to extravagantly LOVE on them?

So my whole perspective on my treatment of teachers has changed because of that small bit of advice. Now, whether I like them or not, I write teachers notes. Lots of notes, to all my kids' teachers, regularly, throughout the year. Sometimes the notes have baked goods attached. Or Sharpies. Or nothing. Or whatever I have around the house when I feel inspired to bless them.

When my own complaining spirit starts to build, I write a note. When it's a challenging week of testing, or she's being evaluated, or I know she's under extra stress, I write a note. I use empathy, and make an effort to see her as a person with a life outside of school. She's probably a mother. You can even ask about her own kids. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I acknowledge her world does not revolve around my child, nor should it.

It was altering once I decided that my child can survive an imperfect year, and I will be mom enough to help him/her navigate any social or academic turbulence. I say "decided" and not "realized" because it took an act of my will to remove inappropriate expectations from the teacher and put some more on myself as the parent. I want to communicate to teachers that I see us as a team.

Teachers can often be seen as enemies, by parents and children alike. I say this year, love your enemies. Model love for your kids, even if you also let them see your disappointment in a teacher (the demonstrated love will be all the more powerful, won't it?). If your child gets an unfair grade or gets overlooked in some way by that teacher, handle it in truth, but with grace and mercy. Remember that they will know we are Christians by our love (John 13:35).   

I'm putting my cute stationery to good use, starting on day 1 of school. Instead of sizing up the person in charge of schooling my kid for the next 9 months, I will give him/her the message that we are in this together and I'm grateful to have the help.

In this weary world, a person just can't have too much encouragement.

linking up with my girl Jami today!

Why I'm not sold on 7 year olds in big church

Last week, the Sunday School wing of our church went under construction. Our leadership decided that meanwhile, we'd all "do church together," kids (over 5) and adults combined for 5 weekends. In theory, it sounded like a great idea. How fun to worship God as a family, all together!

Turns out, it wasn't quite as touching as I'd imagined.

I did, however learn the practical difference between a 10 year old and a 7 year old. One can sit quietly for 75 minutes and one cannot. I also realized what a beautiful thing children's ministry is. If you have ever volunteered to serve in children's ministry, thank you. Serious. Thank you from the depth of this mommy's heart, not only for helping to meet my needs, but for helping to meet those of my children on their level. I want to bake you people little mason jar pies.

My Sunday morning in church usually looks like this. I sing my heart out to the Lord for twenty minutes or so, I chuckle through the announcements, maybe more singing, and then I get to absorb some excellent teaching from God's word. Then I go pick up my kids in Sunday School and we haggle over whether or not it's a donut day.

Today, within one minute of the music starting, I was digging for crayons. Then I was picking up all the papers that fell into the crack between the seats. Then, I got persuaded into holding my son, who is nearly 60 pounds, in my arms while I tried to sing, since the look on his face said that he was sincerely suffering for having to be with the boring grown ups.

When I couldn't hold him anymore, I got to listen to him tirelessly complain of boredom and crawl his entire body up into his chair in thirteen different ways. That was just the first ten of the 75 minute service.

What started out to be a bit stressful for me (ie. 7 year olds in big church) started becoming pretty funny. Next, he started drawing. First it was our wiener dog. Then Star Wars vehicles. There I was, trying to worship, and my son was yelling (so that I could hear him over the loud music, of course), "MOM! Look at my AT-AT and my land speeder!"

But the kicker was still to come. Our church observes communion once a month. When we walked in and I saw the tables set with candles, cups of grape juice and the matzo crackers, I decided this would be a good teachable moment (you know how I like those). My daughter has been in big church with us before and has participated in communion, but my son had not. So I resolved to walk him through the symbolism once the pastor stopped talking. But he hadn't yet finished explaining the first communion at the Last Supper. As our pastor quoted the traditional passage of Scripture where Jesus explains how the cup is a symbol of his blood poured out for us, I saw that clearly, a light had gone on in my son's head. Perhaps he is remembering something deeply spiritual I've taught him, I thought. With a big smile, he turned to me and said loudly, "That's just like in Indiana Jones!"

Okay. He's sitting there thinking of how Indy had to choose which cup was the real holy grail and I'm planning on describing the symbolism of communion. A for effort? In case you're wondering, we don't watch the part of the movie where the bad guy melts for choosing poorly. I'm sure I made parts of that movie a "teachable moment" too, which explains why I was in this Sunday morning debacle in the first place.

The way our church observes communion is that during the quiet music, we are permitted to get up and file past the table, taking a cracker, dipping it in the grape juice, and moving on. My husband and I have a tradition of then stepping aside to pray together and take our crackers in unison. We attempted this with the kids. But mini-Jones refused to eat his. "I don't like grape juice," he protested. I replied very matter of factly, "Well, I actually hate grape juice but I eat it anyways because it's a symbol of something important and it honors the Lord." Still, the cracker was a no-go.

The music then turned into singing time again, as everyone went back to their seats. Several minutes later, I glanced over to see my son, cracker still pinched in his fingers, very cautiously sniffing it. This went on for a few minutes, the sniffing of the cracker wet with juice. Next, I saw the very tip of his tongue extend and graze the cracker like it was a live bomb, which resulted in him twisting up his face into the funniest expression of disgust I've ever seen him make. There I was, trying to worship, and I was left giggling instead. I couldn't stop. It was too funny. I flopped my upturned palm next to him and said, "Give me the cracker." Like a mother, I ate it.

Moral of the story: 7 year olds are really, really great in Sunday School. They sing, crawl around, talk loud, draw wiener dogs, and most importantly learn about Jesus, all on their level.

Moral of the story, Part 2: I thought, for a minute, that my worship was being interrupted. Instead, mothering was a very true form of worship I offered to God this morning. I almost forgot.

My final thoughts are that Jesus has a really good sense of humor. I think he wants us to lighten up in church sometimes. If yours needs some of that, just invite the kids in. These next few weekends are going to be interesting.

And maybe just the refreshment we, as a body of believers, need.

I'll leave you with Legoland's rendition of Indy and the mini-Jones,
who threatens to never eat the cracker.