Where “Yes" May Lead You

Twenty-seven years ago, God asked me to work with teenagers, and I said "yes."

There's a story that leads up to that moment (which I won't share with you today), but what was most surprising was:

1) I was twenty, so barely out of the teens myself,

2) I never had the desire to work with teens. In fact, I was a little afraid of them, having had not-the-best junior high and high school experience,

3) I had my doubts. I had no "training." I had no clear direction.

Nevertheless, I said "yes," without knowing where that "yes" would lead me.

Soon after, I started a leading a small youth group at my church.

After graduating from college, I was hired as a French teacher at a private junior/senior high school.

Then I got married, became a mom, and spent about the next twelve years or so NOT around teens. I was hanging out with other toddler moms, chatting it up about nap schedules and cloth diapers.

And I forgot about my "yes," until I got involved in my teenagers' youth theater company (how this happened is another great story).

What a shock! I never would have imagined that I would be teaching music to teens and directing them in shows. And the best part is that I love it! I love working with teenagers and being a supportive adult in their lives.

But along with the highs come the lows.

Two years ago, a lovely, spunky eleven-year-old came to audition for Moana Jr. She then went on to be in The Wizard of Oz and The Sound of Music, making many friends along the way. Shortly after her third show, she was diagnosed with brain cancer, and two weeks ago, she lost that battle. This was heart-breaking news for everyone in our company.

Twenty-seven years ago, I wouldn't have pictured myself in a bedroom, strumming a guitar through tears, leading a small group of girls in singing Christmas carols, witnessing the final moments of their friend's time on earth. I couldn't have imagined our time afterwards in the foyer, crying and holding each other for comfort. And I never would have known that in working with this young girl, I would be asked to sing songs with her friends at her memorial service.

Her service is tomorrow. I feel nervous and anxious. I put my two-year-old to bed, then lay next to her for a few extra moments just to pray. I ask God for peace. And I hear this song in my head.

This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine...

And that's all God is asking from me when I say "yes."

Food for the Soul

During the Covid pandemic, I had a clear understanding of the purpose of art. Though most people had food and shelter during the lock-down, it wasn't enough. We aren't simply robots, needing a recharge and tune-up every now and then. We are human, we are souls, and art fed those souls. So my family and I painted cards to send to people and made music videos to share online. At that time, I understood that art was a necessity.

But somehow, this past year, I lost that understanding. I no longer had a clear vision of the "why" behind what I did. My head knew it, but my heart didn't. As I tried to think of ways to bring in more income to help my college-bound children, I felt more and more that artists were undervalued in society. Schools were cutting art and music programs. Tech and computer skills were desirable in the job market. I could make $25/hour teaching music, but if a fast-food employee makes $20/hour (new law here in California), then does that mean I'm worth a little more than a McDonald worker? (I know it's not the right question to ask, but that's where my heart was at the time.)

What made matters worst was that after I finished vocal directing The Wizard of Oz in June, I felt a big hole. I had spent months working on this beautiful show, and it was all over in four days. What was I doing? I asked myself. Is it all meaningless?

I needed someone to shine a light through my fog, so this morning I had breakfast with my friend KW (who was the director of The Wizard of Oz and my musical, Five Children and It.) As she talked about collaboration and worship and God and all things dear to her heart, she couldn't hold back her tears. I just sat and listened. 

Hours later, I thought about her words, and it was then that my fog lifted. This is the vision I have now:

The shows I work on are like apples (or fill in with your favorite fruit here.) Most people will eat an apple, appreciate it, and enjoy it in the moment. They probably will not think about where the fruit came from, beyond the grocery store they bought it at. I, on the other hand, was there before the apple even started growing. I cared for the tree, saw the blossoms, and tended the apples as they grew. I worked alongside the Creator to ensure a sweet, beautiful crop. And in the end, when I enjoyed a bite of the apple, I could think back to the day I first saw the tiny apple growing on the tree. And I could be proud of the work I've done, even after the apple is gone.

So now I see that being an artist is an amazing blessing, not a curse. The world may not value it as such, but that's okay. I'm working with God to cultivate food for the soul!

Food for Our Souls

My dad could have been a musician.

But growing up in Hong Kong, he was cooking for his family by the time he was twelve and supporting himself through college. As an adult, he still had a desire to learn the piano and study music theory (and for the longest time, we had two old violins that moved with us from house to house), but he never found the time.

My mom too could have been a musician.

I would hear her singing as she worked in the kitchen, her soprano voice ringing through the house. But her father was a portrait photographer who worked out of his family's small apartment, and her mom was an illiterate child-bride, so my mom relied on scholarships just to get through school.

It was through the church that my parents found an outlet for their love of music. They both became Christians in high school, and singing hymns was the perfect way for their hearts to express the musical joy that they had always felt. And when my sister and I came along, my parents made it a priority to buy a piano and find us piano teachers.

Today, I'm a piano teacher and music teacher. If not for my music teachers when I was young, I may not have had the chance to develop my skills. And I think often of my parents as children, and other children who are in situations like theirs. When I see my children (or anyone else's children) sing and dance on stage and I see the pure joy and the free innocence on their faces, my eyes always fill with tears. I know that this is what heaven will be like. And I want to give ALL children that bit of heaven on earth.

Music and the arts may not be the most practical skill, but I have learned from our "Covid" season that though we may look to science and medicine to heal our bodies, we must look to the arts to heal our souls. Music is one of the signs that we are more than robots and machinery; simply putting food in us and fighting off disease is not enough to keep humans alive–we need beauty to thrive! More than that, God gave us the wondrous gift of music, and music is a gift we can give back to God! The Bible is full of verses that say "sing to the Lord" and "make music to the Lord"!

So think of ways that you can grow the next generation of artists and musicians. You don't need to be an award-winning professional. You just need to have the love and the desire to pass on this love. Support the arts by attending youth events or donating to non-profits like Christian Youth Theater (shameless plug here: CYT Tri-valley). Ask the young painters, singers, writers, and dancers in your life about what they do. Remember, the arts are more than extracurricular or "just a hobby" or steps towards a job or career. Music and the arts are essential to our beings; they are food and medicine for our souls!

God and Dishes

When I was a young teen, I suddenly decided one day to wash the dishes for my mom while she was out (this was in the day before we had a dishwasher). Surprisingly, I had never washed the dishes before. My parents never taught me, or made me.

But this one day, when I saw the dishes piled in the kitchen sink, I thought it would be a nice surprise for my mom. Most likely I was prompted by a recent Sunday school lesson, something about "honoring your parents." So I did my best to wash everything and put it in the drying rack, then I waited for my mom to come home and notice.

It didn't take long for her to spot the clean dishes. 

I waited for her to come and ask me about them, which she did. But when I told her that I had washed them for her, she didn't say "thank you" as I expected her to. She said, "They're still greasy. You didn't do it right."

And I didn't wash dishes for my mom for a long time after that.

This was the memory that suddenly popped into my head as I washed the dishes this morning. I don't know why. But I see a two-fold lesson here:

1) Praise a child for doing right. There are times when quality matters, but what is more important is that the child is choosing to obey, to take initiative, or to make the attempt at something that is difficult. Rather than focusing on how well the child did the job, praise him/her for doing it to the best of his/her ability.

2) Our Father in heaven loves it when we obey Him. We hesitate because we worry about failing, but God asks us to take the first step in obedience, and He promises to guide us the rest of the way. He is the perfect Father, and He never criticizes us for not doing a good-enough job. Rather, He's the Father who asks you to do the dishes, then stands with you at the sink, gets His hands dirty, and cleans three plates for every spoon you clean (and the rest of the kitchen besides!)

Growth

During a piano lesson one day, I was thinking about recitals and how far each of my students have come, when I recalled an incident from my years as a high school teacher.

It was my second year of teaching and I had been put in charge of the musical performances for graduation. No big deal. At the small private school I was teaching, I knew each senior by name and already knew who the strong singers were.

Then a senior named Kate approached me. She was friendly, gentle and kind, a girl who was content to be in the background. A quiet leader, I called her. She was a great role model in her class, and though not considered one of the "popular" students, she was loved by all. She had been doing some singing with me, and when she asked if she could sing at graduation, I said enthusiastically, "Yes!" She wasn't a strong singer, but I didn't make my decision based on that; I made it based on her character.

And then it was my job to stand up for my decision. With barely two years of experience under my belt, some other teachers felt that I shouldn't have made that call, but I stood by Kate. I knew how she'd grown the past year. I knew the courage it took for her to even get up on a stage. I knew that the song she was singing may not sound as good as some other girl singing it, but it would have more meaning. 

We still live in a culture that pressures us to look a certain way or act a certain way. We see photos of "the rich and famous" and aspire to be like them. We want to impress people, or we want our children to impress people. We compare, measure, and compare some more. But-

it is not the face you show the world for 5 minutes that counts,

it's who you are consistently when no one is watching.

it's not always the end goal that matters most,

it's also the journey you took to get there.

Growth is not looking at a tree and saying, "Wow! Look how tall it is!"

Growth is looking at a tree and saying, "Wow! That used to be a tiny seed! Look how tall it's become!"

On Being the Older Woman (part 2)

This morning we had at our church what we call 'Fusion Sunday'. This means that the high school and middle school ministry leaders are on a break (or a retreat) and all the teenagers join the adults for the morning service.

I don't know what your opinion is on teenagers, but I LOVE 'Fusion Sunday's. When we stood up to sing, I could see my oldest son towering over me, and my oldest daughter on the other side of him, both singing with me. From where I stood, I also saw four young men sitting front row center. These teenagers did not choose to slump in the back row so that they can scroll through the phones during the service. They were worshipping with all their hearts and listening intently to every word the pastor said.

"Here is the next generation of leaders," I told myself. "I need to pray for them."

It's popular nowadays for people to attend the same church but separate for worship services: teenagers go here, college students go there, senior citizens can attend the 'hymns' only service, children go to the nursery. We find it easy to group with people who are most like us, but if we continue to do this, churches will either become more and more homogenous or more and more detached. And like I mentioned in my last post, we need the older generations, because we learn from them. Which means our younger generations need to spend time with us too.

In a short ten years, our teenagers will be our adults and our toddlers will be our teenagers. What are you doing to ensure that the baton is passed?

When I Grow Up

Permit me a moment to brag about my friend Sharon. She had sent me such a sweet, hand-written note with her Christmas card, that I feel the need to tell you about her.

After years of homeschooling her four children, Sharon "graduated" and turned her focus to mentoring women and growing as a leader. She spoke at MOPs meetings, led Bible studies, and attended Bible classes and conferences. So when our church was in need of a new leader for the women's ministry, Sharon was the obvious choice.

Now what is surprising to those who do not know Sharon well is that Sharon is very much an introvert. She would be the first to tell you that she doesn't have the dominant personality that people would associate with a natural leader. Quiet and shy, Sharon prefers to be behind-the-scenes cooking and baking for church events. She and I have much in common! 

But I have heard her share about her personal struggles and her desire to be obedient to God, which has led her to where she is now– a pastor to women, a speaker, a daughter of God following the words of Titus 2:3-5. And as I have gotten to know her through our Bible study group and our women's discipleship time, I can say that, without a doubt, Sharon is who I want to be "when I grow up". My ambition is not to be her successor at our church, but to live in such a way that I could be a candidate.

As 2017 quickly approaches, I find myself thinking about my goals for the new year. One goal is to be purposeful in taking steps toward "growing up", with women like Sharon as my role models and mentors. Then in twenty years, I hope to be more kind, more patient, more wise, more bold, and more gracious than I was in 2016. I hope to be someone that young women can look up to. In short, I hope to be more like Christ.

Koinonia

My family just got back from a weekend in the mountains with our church family. As always, our time together was fruitful: new friendships were formed, old friendships were deepened, memories were made. This year, I was especially blessed because I am now 31 weeks pregnant and people were quick to step in and help with our tent or our energetic toddler. I love the strong feeling of community that I get on a weekend like this one.

But even as I experienced wonderful care and friendship, I noticed that there were people on the outskirts. I know how hard it is to break through the invisible barrier of an established community. Which is why I especially love our church body; we strive to practice koinonia.

If you've never heard of the word koinonia, let me tell you a little about it. It is a Greek word that means 'communion', 'sharing', or 'fellowship'. It is the deep connection that Christ nurtures in a church body, one that goes beyond superficial commonalities. An example of koinonia can be found in Acts 2:42-47:

And they devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved.

It is koinonia that sets the Church apart from the rest of the world. It is koinonia that astounds people when they see multiple cultures and social classes worshiping together. It is koinonia that allows people of different backgrounds to form a bond of love and encouragement. Without Christ as the foundation and koinonia as a fruit of His love, the Church would fall apart. As Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsame:

The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me. (John 17:22-23)

And so, even as I noticed those on the outskirts at camp, I also noticed those who were dedicated to cultivating koinonia. I saw them making an effort to meet new people and to reach out to those who didn't easily mingle, and I was so thankful for them. At dinner one night, a young friend of mine came to me, her plate in hand, and whispered, "I'm looking for a place to sit, with people I don't know. Do you have any recommendations?" 

I pointed to a table where an older, tattooed, grizzly-looking gentleman was sitting. I had only met him the day before, but I knew that he had some great stories to tell.

"That man there has fostered more than 200 teenagers in 15 years. He's amazing. Sit with him."

Our last morning at the camp was especially sweet. My young son was waving and saying 'hi' to everyone he saw. Everywhere he looked, he saw a friend. During our morning service, I glanced around the room and felt an overflow of gratitude for the people I saw, especially those that I had gotten to know over the past two days. I prayed for the man who was reevaluating his life after experiencing heart failure; the couple who was recently married and were now learning to join their families and their lives; the homeschooling family who moved from another state and was looking for a new church family. Before I left, I invited this family to join us on Sunday mornings. I want them to experience koinonia through our church body like I have.

My Fishes and Loaves

There are times when I feel overwhelmed by the need I see in the world. When I am on the road and I stop at an intersection, I study the cars that "meet" me at this juncture and estimate how many people are in the cars, and how many families they represent, and how many stories and sadnesses they hold all together. Then I feel like the author of Ecclesiastes when he writes, "I saw the tears of the oppressed- and they have no comforter; power was on the side of the oppressors- and they have no comforter" (4:1).

Or if I simply sit on a Sunday and watch people as they come and go for the morning service, I see various groups, each with specific needs. There are the handicapped, the elderly couples or widows/widowers, young married couples, teenagers, dating couples, single parents, divorced parents, families with children, families without children, and all the children themselves– how could I possibly help them all?!

The temptation for me is to fall into utter hopelessness, or to veer to the other extreme: I want to do all that I can to help as many people as possible. Then I end up saying, "Yes, I can do that!" to everyone and everything until I collapse in an emotionally and physically-exhausted heap.

Gladly, that was the tendency of a much younger me. Since becoming a wife, a mother, and a more diligent follower of Christ, I have learned that it is not my task to save everyone. But neither is it my job to sit back and mope. And a great example of this is the story of the boy with the fishes and loaves (see Matthew 14, Mark 6, Luke 9, and John 6), which I read with my younger children earlier this week. Picture this...

It had been a long day. People had journeyed from all over to meet this man named Jesus, and among them was a boy. His mother had sent him to the Lake of Galilee to see what was going on there. And when he arrived, he was excited to see the healings and to hear the teachings of Jesus.

But it was still tiring to sit out in the sun for so many hours. The boy was grateful for the meal his mother had packed for him. No one else seemed ready to leave, and so the boy settled on a small rock and prepared to devour his five loaves of bread and two small fishes.

Then, just before he bit into a loaf, he heard some men talking.

"Even if we had eight month's worth of wages, we couldn't feed all these people!"

Jesus and his friends were going to try to feed everyone?! The boy looked around him. From his position on the hill, he could see the people stretch between him and the lake. Never before had the boy seen so many people! It would be impossible for anyone but Caesar to feed such a large crowd! What could anyone do but send the people home?

The boy lifted the loaf to his mouth again, ready to savor his mother's delicious bread, when he saw one of Jesus's friends come near. The man was scanning the crowd, asking here and there, "Do you have any food?"

The boy didn't know what to do. What difference would his two fishes and five loaves make? But maybe the man was asking for food because Jesus was hungry. The boy stood up.

"Excuse me, sir, I have some food."

The man quickly ran over. "How much do you have?"

"Only five loaves of bread and two fishes. But Jesus can have it all, if He wants."

The man heaved a tired sigh. "Okay, that's fine. Come with me then."

The boy gathered his basket and cloak and walked with the man towards the hill where Jesus sat. His heart pounded. He was going to share his food with Jesus! But what would Jesus think of such a meager meal? There was no turning back now. When they reached Jesus, the boy shakily held his basket out. Jesus smiled at the boy, took the basket, and held it up to the sky, giving thanks for the food.

Then Jesus did something the boy did not expect. Without taking any for himself, Jesus told his friends to pass the food out to the crowd. The boy watched as person after person was fed fish and bread, and even as he watched, he couldn't explain how this was possible. It took an hour for Jesus's twelve friends to pass out the food, and when everyone had had their fill, Jesus told the men to collect the leftovers– each returning with one big basketful!

The boy could have kept his food for himself. He could have shrugged his shoulders in pessimism or apathy because, logically, his food could not have fed more than three or four people at best.

But the little he had, he gave to Jesus. And it was Jesus who took that little and made it more. And He didn't make it 'just enough', He went above and beyond! Jesus is the God of abundance!

So I don't need to give in despair, nor do I need to take on the burdens of the world. When Jesus sees people driving in their cars or sitting in a church service, and He sees ALL their sadnesses and heartaches, He also sees a very different picture–one of joy and healing– "…for He Himself knew what he would do." (John 6:6) 

And the best part is that he invites me to take part in it, to have a front row seat, to be his right-hand man! Every thing I do, no matter how small, if I do it for Jesus, can be used (and multiplied) by Him to bless people. Which reminds me of one of my favorite verses:

Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him. ~Colossians 3:17

I will give to God what little I have to give, by writing this post, or inviting a friend over, or watching someone's baby, or sending someone a card. Who knows how far reaching my one action can go when I allow God to be the One who saves, the One who makes abundance flow from nothing?

Family Inheritance (and little mirrors)

My three-year-old came to me one day with a toy in her hand. 

"Mom, this is broken," she said.

Then she shrugged her shoulders in the cutest way and said, "Oh well!"

The following day, she spilled some water, and again shrugged her shoulders with a nonchalant "Oh well!"

Then I realized, she had learned it from me! I must say "Oh well" a lot!

But then there was the time when I heard one of my older girls yelling from the other side of the house.

"You ruined it! Why did you do that?"

I was sure one of the younger children was the culprit.

I took care of the situation, but not without recognizing that my daughter's angry reaction was a mirror of my own reactions sometimes. How many times have I responded by yelling when a child drew on the wall, tore a page from a book, or (gasp!) cut a sibling's hair? How often have I lost my patience over small issues, or grumbled about a chore, or spoke unkindly about someone?

This was a wake-up call for me.

I am now very much aware that I am being watched. My children will not pick up ALL my bad habits (my prayer is that they don't!) but I could certainly work on making changes in my life so that they can mirror my GOOD habits more. 

My baby said his first word not too long ago. 

"Uh-oh!" he would cry out as he dropped a cup or toy to the floor.

Hmmm…. I wonder who he learned that from….

There is much that we can pass onto our children… our family's china, our freckles, our photo albums. Let's not make our bad character traits a part of our family inheritance.

Designed by God

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a ballerina, a doctor, and an Olympic runner. But because of my family's lack of extra funds, I wasn't able to take dancing classes. My parents invested every extra penny into piano lessons because they knew someday I could serve the church with this skill.

That didn't stop me from dreaming though. I thought surely someday someone would notice my record-breaking speed or my perfect ballerina toes. I would go to school and become a great doctor. And because I had the desire, surely, I could accomplish whatever I wanted.

Fast forward ten years.

I still believed that I could become whatever I wanted. My driven, perfectionist personality told me so. And so did my culture. This was America after all, the land where dreams come true, if one works hard enough.

Then I signed up for a dance class, something I had wanted to do for years. 

Yes, now all my suppressed natural talent will burst forth! I thought.

Boy, was I wrong.

I had very little flexibility. I had even less grace. I did all the right moves at the right time, but compared to the teacher, I was a bumbling giant. And I was disappointed, because I had believed all along that all I needed was the desire and the opportunity. With time, I could have improved. But I still lacked something, something that I had been lacking since birth. My body was not built for dancing.

Even if my family had had all the money in the world, I could never be a ballerina, a doctor, or Olympic runner. I don't have the mind to handle the understanding and knowledge needed to be a doctor. Nor is my personality suited for the physical discipline needed to become an athlete. I could try my hardest, and still not achieve those goals, because God didn't design me that way. He put in me the dexterity to play the piano, the brain power to quickly understand written music, and the desire to be creative and artistic. I am so thankful my parents saw that in me and encouraged me through the years to keep pursuing music!

I am watching my children now as they mature. The more I watch, the more I see of their personalities. They are each so unique! One daughter has an natural sense of design. Another loves to craft. One son is a drummer and another an actor. If one day one of my children expresses a desire to become a surgeon but doesn't have the aptitude for science and precision, I would be lying if I told my child that all dreams can be achieved with perseverance and time.

Parents, are we doing our children a disservice by telling them, "You can be whatever you want to be"? It's a popular theme in children's movies (think 'Planes' and 'Turbo'); it is most definitely the mantra of the American culture. Wouldn't it be better to tell our children, "God designed you. He has a purpose for you. Chase the dream He has for you!"?

What is the life God has intended for your children?

Living By Example

A few weeks back I read an article that basically said, "The worst thing you could ask of your daughter is to be an example for her friends." According to the author, the pressure your daughter feels from this kind of request pushes her to put on a good face, but to never feel like she herself can admit her fears, hurts, or shortcomings.

"Oh my gosh! I've ruined my children!" was my initial emotional response. My husband and I often ask our children to be good role models for their younger siblings. We encourage our children to be leaders among their friends and their peers at church. Have I been wrong this whole time in asking them to do that? Doubt raced through my mind and robbed me of my confidence. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to write. Guilt bubbled in my core. 

When my emotions finally settled down, I tried to think through this author's words with a clear head. I had written before on something similar to this. We are role models, whether we want to be one or not. Our choice is to be good role models, or bad role models. 

Similarly, I can ask my children to be an example for their friends, though I should explain clearly to them what type of example they should be. After all, Paul wrote these words to young Timothy: Let no one despise you for your youth, but set the believers an example in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity (I Timothy 4:12). My children can be examples of perfect, happy people, or they can be examples of people who know that they are saved by grace, people who know that their greatest example is Jesus Christ (see Philippians 2).

So what it comes down to is this: The worst thing I could ask of my daughter is to be an example without being the right example for her. And if I am the kind of mother who cares more about appearances, then I will teach my children to do the same. If I am the kind of mother who pretends to have it altogether,  then my children will grow into that mold.

But if I am the kind of mother who can say, "I'm sorry. I was wrong," who can share about the lessons she is learning, who gives grace and freely admits that she is in need of it too, who cares for those who are weaker and smaller, whose goal is not to be an example but to bring healing to people, who looks to Jesus, then I want to say to my children, again and again and again,

"Be an example. For your friends. For your peers. For the world."

Beyond Dollars and Cents

Growing up, we never had much money. My father's salary as a pastor and the money my mother earned through cleaning and nannying just barely covered our needs. If I asked for anything, it was usually considered extravagant. We had to count every penny, because every penny counted.

But there were times when I asked my parents to drive me somewhere. Or times when I wanted to visit a friend. And even those requests were considered extravegent because of the cost of gas. Though I understood then the importance of being thrifty, I see now that some things cannot be counted monetarily. Somewhere along the way, in being extra careful with their spending, my parents forgot that some things are worth MORE than the cost of gas or the hours you spend on the road. Driving thirty minutes to drop off a meal is worth it if you can help a person in need. Driving several hours to support a friend is an investment made. Taking a road trip to attend a wedding shows sacrifice. In exchange for the money spent, you are cultivating a relationship, something that has far greater value than money. With regret, I admit that my relationships with my friends and my parents would have benefited from knowing this.

Some friends visited us this past week, an older couple whose home-schooled children are now all grown. As we sat around the table after breakfast, the couple shared with us a system of chores that worked in their family: for every family chore completed, the child received a payment. It could be a quarter for loading the dishwasher, or a dollar for vacuuming the entire house. The child must complete at least three a day, and after a few years, he/she will have enough money to start paying for his/her own clothes, trips, toys, etc. (and the house is cleaner too!)

While my husband and I agreed that work ethic is good, and tithing and money management are also good (of course), we disagreed that every chore should be rewarded with payment. After all, what does it mean to be a part of a family? Participating in chores with no expectation of money is more important than fairness or wages. Learning to serve with a sacrificial heart is a greater lesson learned.

And these were the thoughts that passed through my mind this morning as I attended a piano recital in which none of my children performed. Nor were we related to any of the performers. I made the extra drive and sat for nearly two hours with a squirmy baby because my children's best friends were playing. These are the children I want hanging out in my house when they are older. They are the teenagers I want asking me for godly advice.  

So even if I had paid a hundred dollars for gas and another hundred for tickets, it would still not equal seeing my children grow up with boys and girls whom they can call lifelong friends. I considered today an investment in something that goes far beyond today, and far, far beyond dollars and cents.

Use Me Here

When I was in high school, I couldn't wait for college. When I was in college, I couldn't wait to graduate. While working part-time, I wanted something full-time. And when I was single, I wished I was married. 

One of the few regrets I carry with me now is that I wasted so much time when I was younger. Rather than seeing what God had for me in the present, I was always looking to the future. I can't honestly say that I helped any of my friends in high school. In college, I didn't point people towards Christ. And when I worked as a studio piano teacher, I taught with little expectation and little passion. Week after week, students came and went. We practiced the same scales, the same songs, and I always said, "See you next week!" while thinking "When do I get to go home?"

One day, "See you next week!" never happened. One of my adult students never came back, because she had suddenly passed away. And that was when it hit me.

I had missed my chance to be an influence in this woman's life. I had had several weeks of scheduled time, and I could have made the most of my weekly thirty minutes with her. But I didn't, because I was taking it all for granted. I was praying, "God, move me onto to something else," when I should have been praying, "God, use me here while I am here."

After that incident, I never looked back. I started seeking opportunities to show God's love, from simple notes to encourage people to great sacrifices of time and money. And now, though I have moments of wanting a break from my duties as mom and housecleaner, I don't spend my time pining for the days when my children will be grown. I love homeschooling. I love mentoring new moms, young single women, and newly-weds. I love asking the check-out person, "How's your day going?" I love cooking for people in need and people coming to visit. And I love sharing our home to people. God has given me so much, and I want to pass it ALL on.

Oftentimes, we forget that at every stage of life, God has a purpose for us. Maybe it's in our nature to be discontent. When we're young, we want to be older. When we're old, we want to be younger. Or maybe it's because we are bombarded by messages like "It'll be great when you retire!" or "Wait until the kids are out of the house!" Even when we are young, adults ask us, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" We tell our children to strive for graduation, a driver's license, a job, an award– all ways of saying, in the most subtle way, "When you reach this goal, then you are ready to contribute!" My husband and I tell our children that they can contribute NOW, that sharing God's love, joy, and peace is not limited to those 18 and older, that they can always be on the lookout for opportunities to shine God's light.

And that's a good reminder for us adults too, that God can use us, whatever age we are. I hope that when I am in my forties, my sixties, and even my eighties, I will not waste the time God gives me, and that I will ALWAYS pray, "God, use me here while I am here."

On 'Stories'

Knowing that September is going to be a busy month for me because of school and baby (and sleep deprivation), I decided to do something different. Most of the posts this month will actually be re-posts. I've learned some valuable lessons in the three-and-a-half years since I've started this blog, and I'm sure that most of you don't have the time to sit at the computer and read all that I've ever written. So I will find some of my favorite posts (that are not already in the side bar to the left) and share them with you.  Here's one from 2011…

*This post is mostly about books. I've added a bit about movies as an afterword.

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Building on the book list in my last post, can I emphasize enough how important it is to read to your children? By reading to your children, you are building the foundation for their spoken and written language, their higher thinking skills, and their creative minds. But there is another important reason to read to your children: you are passing on your 'narrative'.

The idea of narrative goes back thousands of years, back to the time when people sat around the fire and told stories about their day or their past, including folktales. The morals and beliefs of one generation passed onto the next, and in this simple way, a culture endured. 

Fast forward to present day, and we have generations that are isolated and disconnected. Older generations call the younger ones 'rebellious' and 'disrespectful', while the younger generations argue that the older ones 'just don't get it' and blame them for 'messing things up anyway'. There are many factors that can cause this rift, but one is that narrative is no longer passed from generation to generation. What has taken the place of stories around the fire? Movies, television, and video games. Pop culture, not parents and grandparents, passes on its beliefs to the new generation.  Dana Gioia, poet, critic, and former chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts, said on Volume 70 of the Mars Hill Audio Journal (an audio magazine focusing on contemporary culture and Christian conviction), "There is a human hunger for narrative... In fact, psychologists have demonstrated that when someone is telling you a story, you listen differently than from how you would a discursive argument. Unfortunately, that need for narrative is being satisfied at the lowest levels by video games, by action movies, by television, and other electronic media." That is why I worried when 'adult' movies like American Pie or The Ring became a hit among junior highers. They were filling their need for narrative with media that glorifies sex, drugs, rebellion, and exhilaration.

Jesus taught in parables for a reason. Stories stick. They don't lecture. They invite the listener to live another's life, and learn from it. You, as the parent, can choose which stories stick with your children. In our family, we read books aloud, before naptime and bedtime, and also at the dinner table. The dinner table book is always a chapter book picked by my husband; right now we are reading The Hobbit. We also listen to books and stories on CD in the car, instead of the radio. And of course, we have our children read on their own, by themselves or aloud to us. Lastly, we like to tell stories in our family, stories about myself or my husband we when were younger. Some stories have morals, and some are just fun memories. Our kids ask for those again and again. 

How can you pass on your narrative? Start with your infants. Check out books at the library (some may need previewing). Read and discuss books. Tell stories about your childhood. Ask grandparents to tell stories about their childhood. And above all, read Bible stories, either from the Bible or a good illustrated version (I recommend The Jesus Storybook Bible). I also highly, HIGLY recommend three books by David and Karen Mains, titled Tales of the Kingdom, Tales of the Resistance, and Tales of the Restoration. Another good resource is Honey for a Child's Heart, by Gladys Hunt. The book discusses the importance of reading with your children, how to pick great books, and includes book lists for all ages.

If you would like to see my recommended book lists, click on the following links:

Book List for Girls

Book List for Boys

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*My husband and I are always emphasizing to our children and other parents how movies are a form of narrative. Even the most faithful of our parenting friends (or grandparenting friends) tend to get too lax in the area of choosing movies for their children to watch. Remember that G and PG ratings are based only on certain things such as violence and language. The simple letter rating cannot tell you about spiritual content or messages on morality. I recommend previewing movies (especially newer ones) before you take your children to the movie theater or show them at home. There are also online Christian resources that will give you a thorough movie review; the one I use is Focus on the Family's Plugged In. And more importantly than censoring everything you children watch is discussing what you watched with your children during or after the viewing. We even talk about Lego cartoons with our oldest, because the ninjas practice meditation and the Chima creatures have their crystals. Our goal is to make sure our children are not blindly absorbing what passes in front of their eyes. We are training them to filter everything through God's Word and to examine their surrounding culture with intelligence and good moral judgment.

Tea and Sympathy

I had tea with my mother-in-law last week. After speaking at the Valentine's Day tea at our church earlier this year, we were presented with gift certificates to a beautiful local establishment. And it only took us six months to use them!

What a wonderful time we had. I am not a froufrou-tea-party kind of girl, but I do like trying unique delicacies and new kinds of tea (pear tea-- yum!), and of course, there's the desserts. I hardly ever say no to desserts!

But the best part was sitting, being served, and reconnecting with my mother-in-law. I have been going non-stop since school ended, and the break from work was like an oasis. 

I am so often encouraged by words of wisdom from older women. Just like me, my mother-in-law is learning about living the life God has intended for her. The difference is, she is now a grandmother and empty-nester, but even so, it is often difficult for her to know how to adjust to the changes in her life. She shared with me what she has learned recently about loving her grandchildren while respecting parents' boundaries and wishes. I am SO thankful that we share the same goal of raising grateful, kind, respectful, loving children!

Then it was my turn to share. We talked a little about recipes and cooking, and I lamented that I want my children to like salad more.

"Maybe I should have made more salad when they were younger," I said.
"I don't think that would have made a difference," my mother-in-law said.
"But if that's all their palates are used to, they wouldn't be so picky about it now."
"But," replied my mother-in-law, "you feed your kids eggs all the time, and now you have one who doesn't like eggs!"

At that moment, our server came with a new pot of tea. But my thoughts lingered on what my mother-in-law had said. How true and how encouraging! There is only so much I can do, and in the end, my children are still individuals with unique tastes and personalities. There are times when they have to make their own choices, and there is no way I can dictate everything they do. It doesn't do me good to beat myself up over little things and bury myself in discouragement and doubt.

We soon finished our goodies and tea, and left the tea house with full stomachs. But I left with so much more than that: a new perspective, words of encouragement, and a full heart. I feel ready to take on the school year, a new baby, and whatever adventures God will bring my way!

Small-Circle People

Every now and then, a neutral word picks up a negative connotation. 

'Housewife' was one of those. A term once used to simply describe a woman not employed outside of the home, it now conjures up an image of a woman in a June Cleaver dress and pearls, slaving away in a prison of a home, with no ambition to do more than make the best meatloaf in the world to her husband's satisfaction. And so, nowadays people prefer 'homemaker' or 'stay-at-home mom'.

I feel that the term 'introvert' has also become one of those words. Say 'introvert', and people think 'wallflower', 'shy', 'anti-social', 'hermit', or 'nerd'. An introvert is the unattractive boy or girl in the corner by the punch bowl. Or the bookworm with the nerdy glasses and mismatched clothes hiding behind War and Peace. Or the single, middle-aged man or woman who goes home to a table set for one and a conversation with his/her cat. They are not wanted at social gatherings, because they are awkward and just plain boring.

Which is not necessarily true! Sure there are times when I can't think of anything to say while squished into a corner of the couch with the music blaring behind me, and though everyone else is joining the congo line around the room, I choose to sip my punch and force a smile. But introversion isn't about preferring solitude over people; it's about how many people one can be around at any given time, and the level of interaction one has with those people.

And that is why I've decided to give introverts a new name: small-circle people.

I will proudly say that I am a small-circle person. I like going where there are no crowds, because I can enjoy my surroundings better. I like conversations with one or two people around a small table, because I can focus on their words and emotions and talk about meaningful things, and not feel like someone is being left out. I like trying new things, and I actually prefer to do with them someone else-- it's just more fun that way. I space out parties, large social obligations, and outings on my calendar so I don't overwhelm myself. I like quiet, because I can't think when there is noise. And-- this is most important-- I choose a small circle of people and pour my love into them, because I know that though I am not equipped to help a multitude of people, I can certainly help some.

I have been learning over the years not to allow labels to shape me; my identity in God is not based on what I think I can't do ("I can't help all the orphans in Africa." "I can't lead a Bible study." "I can't talk to teenagers.") but on what God can do through me. By reminding myself that I am a small-circle person, I can more easily dispel the label of 'introvert' and focus on the plans God has for me. I may not be the 'life of the party', but I can find the one person in the crowd who needs a friend. I can befriend one neighbor who is lonely. I can mentor one young woman and help her find her identity in Christ.

God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in a God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us... There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. ~I John 4:16b-18a (ESV)

Caring for your P.W.W.Y.C.

Okay, I'm not so good with acronyms.

P.W.W.Y.C. stands for Pastor's Wives With Young Children. I couldn't think of any other way to say it. If you have an idea, feel free to share it with me!

But first, let me tell you how I got the idea for this post.

A few years back, when my family first started attending our church, I was looking for moms with whom to connect. It wasn't difficult, since our church has a MOPS group and plenty of homeschooling families, but there were two moms in particular that I wanted to get to know because I thought we would have much in common. One was the wife of the music pastor, and the other was the wife of the junior high pastor.

But all my attempts seemed to fail. I would see them in the hall, and say 'hi' but they wouldn't stop to talk. I tried to invite them over for dinner, but somehow our schedules wouldn't work. I thought maybe they just weren't interested, or had too much to do, or whatever, but I NEVER thought that it was because they were P.W.W.Y.C.

Now that I'm a pastor's wife myself I know what it is like to be in their shoes. On Sundays, my husband leaves around 7am or 8am, depending on what he has going on that morning. I make breakfast (or put cereal in bowls) and herd all my children into their clothes and out the door in time (or not) for the 9am service. Once at church, we park and walk like a line of ducks across the busy parking lot to the church building, where then I have to drop each of the younger children off at his/her classroom. Sometimes my 4-year-old clings to me and screams because he doesn't want to go. So either I spend a few minutes convincing him, or just allow him to join me in the service. Finally, I make it into the sanctuary and look around for a seat. After the service, I round up my children again, and do the duck walk back to the car. I might have caught a glimpse of my husband somewhere in there.

When I first became a pastor's wife, I hated Sunday mornings. I missed my husband. I missed having a calm and peaceful Sunday morning. If one child was sick, I stayed home with all the kids. I asked my sister-in-law (also a pastor's wife) if that was what Sundays were like for her, and she said, "Yep. You're lucky if you make it to service twice in a month." Sundays, what had been a day of rest, had become a work day for our family.

The other P.W.W.Y.C. are in the same boat as me, but at least I have older children to help me out and 10+ years of experience as a mom to fall back on. When I tried to talk to these other moms, they seemed distracted, because they were-- trying to keep track of their children in a busy hall. I'm sure I'm the same way! They sometimes seemed frazzle, probably because they had a rough morning, or a late night doing some ministry project, but still somehow made it to church. P.W.W.Y.C. have mornings when they would rather stay home from church, but feel the need to go anyway (at least I do). They love supporting their husbands' work (and many of them would  never trade ministry for another line of work), but they are up at nights with their children, or work part-time to help make ends meet, AND still strive to make time to do their own ministry.

So if you have a P.W.W.Y.C. in your church, see what you can do to help her out. It can be as simple as supporting her as she is learning about herself as a new mom, or trying one of these:

1) Get to know them outside of church.
It is easy to assume certain things about a pastor's wife. But do you know what her hobbies are? Do you know if she is part of a Bible study? Does she have family in the area? How is she adjusting to her role as a P.W.? Invite the family over for dinner or lunch.

2) Offer them help in the parking lot.
Many P.W.s are "single moms" on Sunday mornings. Who knows what it took for them to make it even to the church parking lot! So if you see a P.W. trying to carry an infant carseat and walk a toddler from the car to the church front door, don't hesitate to help them on the last leg of their journey!

3) Offer them a seat next to you on Sundays.
Again, with their husbands either teaching, or leading music, or serving somewhere else in the church building, P.W.s don't often sit with their husbands in service. If there is an empty seat next to you, let them know.

4) Offer to babysit.
This is especially important if the pastor and P.W. have no relatives in the area to help them out. Once you've establish a good relationship with your P.W. and her family, I doubt she'll turn down a babysitting offer. Some P.W.s would love a chance to have some quiet time alone, or an hour to join a Bible study. And of course, date night is never a bad idea! Support their marriage by giving the couple a break from their young children to reconnect over dinner at a nice restaurant. 

5) Pray for them.
Ministry is never 9-5. Any set church ministry hours are usually on weekends or in the evenings. Then there is all the ministry that is not set: counseling people, preparing for teaching and training, studying the Word. Pastors NEVER leave their work at the office; they carry it in their hearts. And for pastors with young children, this means learning to balance work with family time. Pastors are not immune to overworking, divorce, or neglecting their children. They desperately need prayer to keep their families strong.

Not Just Spectators

This hit me during last Sunday's wedding ceremony.

Baptisms and weddings. They are meant to be public events. Is this just so we can celebrate with our friends? No.

Because our faith and our marriages are not private things (despite what some may say.) How we grow in our walk with God affects everyone around us to some degree. How our marriages flourish or die affects our families, our friends, and our church body.

And so, when we gather to witness a baptism or wedding, we are, in fact, actual witnesses of this person or couple making a commitment. The person (or couple) is saying to those present, "I am announcing to all of you this promise I am making." Which means that those of us in the Body have a responsibility to help, encourage, and sometimes hold accountable, these people as they strive to stay true to their commitment. 

And so if a brother or sister in Christ seems to be turning from his/her faith, we should gently and lovingly ask about that. If there is obvious sin in that person's life, we should address it, rather than turn a blind eye. If a married couple is struggling, we should strive to help them heal wounds before the struggles lead to an affair, abuse, or divorce. And I don't mean that we should only take action when things are bad. Older couples can invite younger couples over for dinner. Retired men and women can spend their days mentoring young Christians. Middle-age people should attend college and high school group gatherings. Any-age Christians should volunteer with children in Sunday school classes, Awana clubs, and Vacation Bible schools. In other words, we are not spectators. Despite what culture preaches, we are not merely individuals, constructing our own truths, doing what we feel is right, and leaving others to do the same.

I now have photos of four couples on my refrigerator. I cut them out from wedding invitations or save-the-date postcards, and they remind me to pray for these young couples who are just starting the journey of life together as partners. The Body of Christ cannot grow in a healthy way if we do not strive to care for all parts of the Body.