"I need help!"

Ever since she started walking at eight months, my youngest has always acted older than her age. If she sees me vacuuming, she wants to vacuum. If I'm cutting vegetables, she wants to cut vegetables. She wants to do EVERYTHING that her siblings do.

So usually, when she insists on doing something "all by myself", I let her try, if it's not dangerous. This may mean that her shoes are on the wrong feet and her shirt is backwards (and I'm practicing my patience as she is taking soooo long to do each task), but I can see that she is growing and learning.

But there are times when I KNOW that she cannot do something, simply because she doesn't have the dexterity or the understanding at the age of three! And yet, she insists on trying to do it herself (and there is no convincing that girl.) So I let her give her all. Sometimes I'll leave the room (my daughter tells me "Go away!") or I'll just wait nearby. Then after a few minutes, I hear "Mama, I need help!"

And aren't we just the same with our Father in Heaven?

God knows that things will be difficult for us. He knows that parenting, or getting sick, or losing a job, or loving a neighbor, is a difficult task that we cannot tackle alone. So He does not leave us to do everything on our own, and yet, oftentimes, we insist on doing it "all by myself!"

And how long does it take for us to realize that we don't have the strength or the understanding? How long do I keep trying before I finally pray "God, I need help!"?

My Father is always right by me, always ready and willing to do the heavy lifting. In ALL things, big and small, He never leaves me to struggle by myself, if I only ask Him for help!

The Calm in the Storm

This afternoon, I was standing in line with my shopping cart full of food, at least what food I could still find on the half-empty shelves. All around me were other families doing the same. The lines stretched into the aisles, but no one was pushing or yelling. In fact, people were calm and polite, some quiet, some laughing, some making conversation with strangers.

But I felt so tired. It had been such a strange few days. I just wanted to get some food to feed my brood. Being surrounded by people in crisis made me want to cry and I didn't know why.

Suddenly, an image filled my mind. It was a scene from the book "Tales of the Restoration", by David and Karen Mains. In a midst of a riot in the city, in which citizens were throwing mud at each other, a man quietly appeared.

...the man was wearing working-man's dungarees, a flannel shirt, a hardhat, and steel-toed boots. As the boy watched, the street cleaner said nothing. He scarcely glanced about him, but just kept cleaning and sweeping and shoveling the mess. 

A fistful of mud hit the man in the chest. He neither shouted in anger or threw the dirt back at the crowd; he didn't even wipe the filth from his shirt.

The boy in the story soon realized that the man was Jesus. Jesus is the peace in the midst of the storm; even better, He is the one who calms all storms.

This afternoon, as I stood in line with my shopping cart full of food, I closed my eyes and rested on this image. I imagined Jesus walking through the grocery store and bringing a peace-that-passes-understanding with him. I prayed for Jesus to calm the storm in my heart, that His peace would fill me, so that I could pass it on to others.

I realize now why I feel so tired. I've always felt others' pain very strongly, and every story I heard about people dying, children not getting fed because schools are closing, the elderly not having toilet paper, small businesses being in danger is like a boulder on my shoulder. Being in a store full of people "in panic" (as calm as we all were) was like an avalanche on my soul.

And so I've been reading and re-reading these words from Psalm 18:

I love you, O Lord, my strength.

The Lord is my rock, and my fortress and my deliverer;

my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,

my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

This is the verse on my chalkboard right now. As my family lives in close quarters for the next few weeks, this will be our reminder that it is not these physical walls that protect us, but our God.

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?

How to Survive Having 8 Kids (or Fewer) - Part 7 of 7

I have eight children. I have eight pieces of my heart living their own independent lives apart from me. What are the chances that a child will break my heart at some point? The odds are high.

Of all the lessons I have learned as a parent, one lesson rises above the others: I cannot control my children. I can guide them. I can talk to them. I can pray for them. I can love them. But what I can't do (and I really wish I could) is hide my family in a bubble. And in the end, my children are their own people, after all. They need to make their own decisions. So I can do all the "right" things, and there is still no guarantee that my children will grow up to be the people I hope they will be: healthy, wise, Christ-following servant-leaders. 

Sounds hopeless, doesn't it? What's a parent to do?!

But wait. 
Take a deep breath [ i n h a l e . . . e x h a l e ]. 
Because I have great news for you– there is hope!

Tip #7: Trust Your Heavenly Father

A few years ago, I was mentored by a wonderful woman named Cathy. She shared about being a young widow raising her children through their teenage and young adult years, and how difficult it was when her son, despite all their Christian teachings growing up, went through some very rough times. Cathy's heart ached as all she could really do was care and pray for her son. The wonderful part of this story is that her son eventually put his life in God's Hands. He is now a strong man of faith. When I asked Cathy how she felt about those rough years, she told me, "I wouldn't take those years back. Not when I see the man my son has become. He leans on God more because of those years." 

God is writing the story for each and every one of your children. You play a part in the story, but you are not the Author. There may be times when your child makes a decision that hurts you and the family. There may be times when your child makes a decision that hurts him/herself. As hard as it is during those times, you have to trust.

I know this tip may not be as practical as you would like, but I cannot emphasize how very important it is. I could not parent eight children (or any number of children) without God's help. I would be an angry, grouchy, impatient, guilt-and-anxiety-ridden basket case. I would be so concerned with my children's happiness that I would make idols of them while bitterly resenting them. I would strive for the perfect family, at least perfect-looking family, and put so much pressure on my children that in the end, they resent me too.

Cindy Rollins, in her book Mere Motherhood, says it better:

This is not about having the perfect family or the perfect school. Your success or failure doesn't rest on your perfection, just your faithfulness. Your family is going to be a mess sometimes. You could cure this, of course, by not having a family at all, which is the modern choice… Western Civilization does not rest on perfect families but on imperfect ones. Your family and mine… 

A wise person once said not to take too much credit or too much blame for your children. That is comforting… 

One day we will come to the end of what we can do for our children. In those early days our children cannot live without us, but slowly they grow up and move away. This is almost heart-wrenching, but the process also gives us a chance to lean on our Heavenly Father and to trust Him more. God entrusted us with a great treasure. It is our life lesson to hand it back. To let it go.

So pray for your children. Guide them and help them become the people God designed them to be. Love them, truly unconditionally. And remember, with every step you take, that you are not parenting alone. God is walking with you, and your children too.

Trading My Sorrows

My eyes filled with tears as I watched the couple slow dance to 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow'. Ben, gently swaying with his arms around his wife, closed his eyes for a moment. He was fighting back tears too.

It was in that moment that I saw the pain amidst the joy, the duality that defines so much of Ben's life right now as he cares for Judy, who has Alzheimer's disease. He cherishes every smile, even when Judy isn't fully aware of her surroundings. He cherishes every word, even when Judy doesn't fully understand the conversation. And even as Ben lives with this deep pain, God has filled him with a new joy and peace that cannot be explained. When Ben is not with Judy, he is ministering to families and teaching others about Alzheimer's. 

Later, when I had a chance, I asked Ben how he has learned to manage the daily sadness of slowly losing his wife–if he has a routine or Bible verse that helps him get through the feeling when it overwhelms him.

"I don't have any one thing," Ben replied in his quiet way. "But I have learned to let myself feel the emotions."

The words struck me. I had learned at a young age to stifle certain emotions. Strength, I thought, lay in the ability to push through fear, doubt, despair, and sadness and tough it out. Why cry when I could do something about the situation? Why feel sadness when sadness hurts so much?

But as I recently discovered, sometimes crying is pushing through. Last summer, when I found out that I was expecting Baby #8, fear crept into my heart. But I didn't address the fear; I only told myself, "God wants to teach you something. So find the lesson." Then the baby came, and I found my fear realized as I struggled to manage everything. But I told myself, "I can do this. I just have to try harder." All the while, I became buried deeper and deeper in my dark emotions, sometimes lashing out at my husband or children, sometimes beating myself up for not doing enough. Joy and peace seemed elusive. I felt like everything was going to fall apart if I stopped moving. But it was really me that was falling apart. And all I was really doing was putting duct tape on a bursting pipe. I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong… until I allowed myself to cry.* If you've ever watched Pixar's Inside Out, you would understand.

And I discovered that crying goes beyond a psychological or physiological need to expel pain. Whenever I try to avoid feeling loss or pain, I am really trying to hold onto self-reliance. I put on a good front. I tell people "I'm fine." And I keep trying to fix the problem. I try not to feel the pain in the hope that by the time the problem is fixed, I can move on to happier emotions. But in doing so, I also keep a death grip on my pride. Which means my hands are closed, and I am unable to receive help, or anything, from God. 

All this time, I kept asking God to reveal to me what He wanted me to learn, not realizing that I was unable to learn it. That was, until I cried. Until I humbled myself and let go. Until I admitted that I couldn't do it on my own.

I would have found this in the Bible too if I had thought to look. My friend Susan (thank you, Susan!) reminded me that centuries before me, the authors of the Psalms cried out in despair and hopelessness, sounding almost blasphemous as they accused God of abandoning them. David, in Psalm 13, wrote

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?

How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, O Lord my God.

Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;

my enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

Notice, though, how David ended his song. 

But I trust in your unfailing love; 

my heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.

David did not just cry out to feel better. He didn't cry out to the sky just to release pent-up emotions. He traded his fears and sadness for peace and joy.

And that is what Ben is learning. And me also. By being honest with myself and admitting my weakness, I find strength, real strength. By allowing myself to fully feel the heartache, I can then be healed. And I've felt joy, peace, and patience return to me, though my situation hasn't changed much. 

Yes, there is a release when you cry, but what's even better is when you can release the emotions and the whole situation to the One who can do something about it.

(*See the post from May 11, When Mamas Need a Good Cry.) 

God With Me

I am tired.

Physically tired. Emotionally tired. Mentally tired.

But I am joyful and grateful. A friend asked me on Friday, "How can you be so calm during all this?!"

Well, it's been a bit of a journey. This is a situation I would have never expected to find myself in.  But let me begin at the beginning.

A few months ago, my husband and I began to notice a strange stench in our bedroom, a foul smell that came from under the house. My husband tried all he could to locate the cause of the odor, but could find nothing. Since we had done all we could, we called the landlord and told him about the smell. We also had to start sleeping on the sofa bed in the living room because the smell  was bothersome and overwhelming at times. We wondered if it was a leak, or mold, or worse.

One plumber came. He could not find a leak. Maybe it is the rain water? he said. I told him about the smell. He said, it must be the rain water.

A restoration specialist came to test for mold. How do I get under the bedroom? he asked. There was no entry that we knew of, I told him. Only these two little vents. Then I can't do anything, the man said. And he left.

Finally, workers came to fix the possible rain water problem. They dug trenches in the front yard to lay a French drain, and they jackhammered the cement in the backyard to level the ground. After two days of noise and demolition, the workers told me, the only way to see what the smell under the house was to go through the bedroom floor. I called my husband and he came home right away to help empty out our bedroom.

We then tried to manage normal living in a house full of furniture and clothes. We continued with school. I went to my prenatal appointment and baked cookies and made split pea soup for dinner. But then one of the workers came to me and asked, Do you want to see what we found under the bedroom floor? I wasn't sure I wanted to, but I followed him to my bedroom.

Under where my bed had once been was basically a pond of muck. Toilet paper and scum floated about. An old, broken pipe stuck out,  the only clue to this mystery. We stood staring into the hole in the floor, flabbergasted and speechless. 

The only solution was for my family to live elsewhere for a few days while the workers shut off the water and fixed the pipes. And that is where we are in the story today.

"How can you be so calm, Rita?!" my friend asked.

Calm. The calmness she saw was an answer to prayer.

My friend didn't know how months before I had been searching daily on Craigslist for rental houses that could accommodate our large family, all the while worrying about the increase in rent. I wanted to pack and move immediately, if only to escape my present  circumstance.

She didn't know about my prayers to keep my baby safe, and for the many times I almost panicked because I couldn't remember when I last felt the baby kick. Then I prayed specifically for a flutter or some sign that the baby was okay, just to calm my heart. 

She didn't know about the night I felt so helpless and anxious that I just cried in bed. I called out to God for peace. And that whatever happened, that I would trust Him through the situation.

He has answered my prayer, times a hundred.

The problem under the house may be a major inconvenience, but it is fixable and not the danger we had imagined. We did not lose our home. We did not lose our belongings. We will not need to move after all.

It has not rained in eight days. The surprisingly warm and sunny weather has only aided in the clean-up of the unwanted water. 

Our friends Jason and Susan enthusiastically welcomed us into their home and said that we could stay as long as we need. I've been able to cook and do laundry. My children have been playing with their children. I can relax and feel at home because of their hospitality.  

We are not sick, in pain, or suffering in any way. My baby is 26 weeks old now and healthy. I feel her kick when I play the cello or sing.

So, this hasn't been the holiday season I wished for, but I have come through this time of uncertainty with a peace that goes beyond the twinkling lights and merry holiday music. 2017 was not the year I had expected it to be. Never would I have thought that I would one day be pregnant with my eighth child and living in my friend's house. But I see the way Emmanuel, 'God with us', has walked with me through the years, and the way He is walking with me now... right into 2018.

Beyond the Classroom (Part 2 of 2)

My oldest is starting high school. My breath catches in my throat just thinking those words.

"This is it, right? This is the beginning of 'real' life. No more playing around. No more 'learning is fun'. If I mess up now, my son's future is at stake."

That's how I feel about high school, because that is the impression I get. If my son doesn't take the right science class, then he can't take the next right science class, which means he can't get into the right college, and graduate and get the right job. It's time to panic, Rita. 

Yes, PANIC!

But wait, didn't I just give advice to a mom of an eleven-year-old? Didn't I say (and I quote myself), "There are things that schools do not teach our children. There is so much more to life than GPAs, SATs, and PhDs"?

Take a deep breath, Rita. You can't plan everything. You want to line up the dominoes and see them fall, one by one, so neatly and methodically in the pattern you set. You want guaranteed success, for the next four years to sail by without a glitch. You want to be able to see the future, so that you can make choices rather than mistakes, and live with no regret of the past.

But that is not life. And that is certainly not God's plan for  you or your son. God asks you to obey Him one step at a time. To be faithful one day at a time. To trust Him one thought at a time.

So trust Him, Rita.

Trust Him to take care of the details.

And do what you know is right: prepare your son to be a leader, a decision-maker, and a fighter for justice and integrity. Teach him how to learn, how to research, and how to communicate in speech and through the written word. Live by example and show him the importance of God and people, family and friends, work and rest. Remind him that it is more important to reach down and help the helpless than to climb the ladder to the top.

And pray. Pray for each day. Pray for each moment. Pray for each child.

That is something your son will never learn from a textbook.

Chores and Meditation

Our dishwasher was broken. It didn't take long for the novelty of washing all dishes by hand to wear off. By the end of the week, I was grumbly and angry.

At that same time, my discipleship group was discussing scripture memorization and abiding in the Word. What keeps us from being in the Word? What keeps our minds from meditating on God's truths?

My answer, in short, was nothing.

When I have time to read the Bible, I choose to read something else or be on the computer. And when I have time to meditate (like when I am doing housework), I fill my mind with anxiety, worry, planning, or in many cases, grumbling. Oftentimes, I go to bed with the sudden realization that I had not communed with God all day.

I decided to make an action plan. If I have time to think about the Bible, then I just need a reminder. And what better prompt than the things I'm doing all day, everyday! While I'm cooking, the smells, colors and tastes of the food can remind me to "Taste and see that the Lord is good…" When I make the bed, I can recall that "This is the day the Lord has made…" I brainstormed a list of my daily chores and looked up verses (some in different translations) that relate to the actions through a key word or idea. Here is what I came up with:

Cooking- 
Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him! ~Psalm 34:8 (ESV)
For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing. ~2 Corinthians 2:15 (ESV)

Doing laundry- 
I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God, For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. ~Isaiah 61:10 (NIV)

Washing the dishes- 
Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool. ~Isaiah 1:18b (ESV)

Making the bed- 
This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24 (ESV)

Gardening- 
I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. ~John 15:5 (ESV)

Changing diapers- 
And said, "Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. ~Matt 18:3-5 (ESV)

Dressing- Colossians 3:12 (NIV)

Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Colossians 3:12 (NIV)

Then came the hard part– making it a habit. When I changed the baby's diaper, I reminded myself to think of the verse. When I folded the laundry, I reminded myself again.

After a few days, I wasn't as diligent anymore. But one day, as I was washing the dishes and grumbling again about how long it was taking for the technician to come and fix it, I caught myself. The words "though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow" came to mind and suddenly, my whole attitude changed! My shoulders relaxed. My grumbling was replaced by gratitude. I praised God for His love and sacrifice. A broken dishwasher became secondary, and my time doing the dishes became a time of worship.

I am now trying to be more mindful of my thoughts throughout the day, so that the day will come when everything I do draws me to God's Word. Some day I may write down these verses and post them around the house so that I can memorize them. And there are certainly many more verses that I can look up! But for now, remembering a few key words is enough to turn my thoughts back to meditating on God and His Word, even if I am "just" doing the dishes!

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. ~I Thessalonians 5:16-18

From Your Little Sparrow

Dear Dad,

You know how my muscles were clenched as I talked to the mechanic about the minivan. You know how I was trying to discretely scan the paper work, looking for the cost. You know how my hand was on my wallet, ready to give the man my credit card, the same credit card that was recently charged with several thousand dollars to pay for my son's surgery.

What a sweet blessing it was then when the mechanic said, "There is no cost today." I don't know why there was no cost. He had spent at least an hour checking our van for a possible broken part. He had found nothing. He could have charged us for wasting his time and I wouldn't have blamed him! But he loved us as one brother loves another. And my smile and quiet "thank you" hardly conveyed the relief and joy I felt.

Dad, you know the unexpected expenses we have had this year. You know every penny. But you also know that I almost cried when I climbed into my minivan, with the words "There is no cost" still ringing in my ears. And if I had cried, you would have counted every tear, because you care for me. You cared enough to provide in a large ways with extra work for my husband and piano lessons for me. And you cared enough to provide in the little ways, like today.

I love you, Dad. Thank you for always watching out for me.

Love,

Your Little Sparrow

Praying for My Children

I've always felt that my prayers were… lackluster.

Especially when I read about the great Christian men and women before me who would spend hours on their knees in prayer. Or when I read Paul's beautiful, deep prayers in his epistles. Or when I read how even Jesus would go find a quiet, secluded place to pray to His father. But you already know what my life is like with six children–it is full of constant interruptions. I can hardly find ten minutes in a row to focus on anything, let alone string more than three thoughts together!

And at the top of my list of "inadequacies" in prayer is the fact that I don't pray for my children as often as I should. Oh, I'll pray for that 'troublesome' child when I'm having a bad day. Or when I feel overwhelmed by the thought of my soon-to-be teenagers going out into the wide, wide world. But on a day-to-day basis, I don't pray for God's guidance and presence in my children's lives like I should.

Then, a few weeks back, I was encouraged by my sisters in Christ to rethink my prayer life. While I feel that my prayers are lacking because I don't feel inspired, or keep a prayer journal, or have a set time of solitude, the Bible doesn't say that those are the requirements for prayer. Prayer is about my heart connecting with God's heart. A journal can help with that, or a "quiet" time, but those things don't give my prayer more or less worth. What is more important is what I'm asking for–is it in line with God's will? Am I asking God for things of real worth, for myself and my children?

In Walking With God in the Season of Motherhood, Melissa Kruger writes: 

Often my prayers for my children are simply about the day-to-day circumstances of their lives. While we can talk to God about all our needs, we often forget to pray about the deeper matters related to their spiritual growth. Using the examples of the psalms [see footnote], the Lord's Prayer [see Luke 11], or Paul's prayers helps us to guide our prayers for our children.

Which is a wonderful idea! What would be better than to use God's Word to give me the words I need! And I've always especially loved Paul's words to the early churches…

"I thank my God every time I remember you…and this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight…" (Philippians 1:3-11)

"...since the day we heard about you, we have not stopped praying for you and asking God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all spiritual wisdom and understanding…" (Colossians 1:9-12)

"…And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ…" (Ephesians 3:14-21)

(Other great prayers are found in 2 Thessalonians 1:11-12, Ephesians 1:15-19, and 1 Corinthians 1:4-9.)

Now, you may think that I'm cheating to "borrow" these prayers, rather than to wait for "inspiration" to hit me in a sudden burst of emotion and words, but again, prayer is about our hearts connecting with God's heart. I don't need to be "in the mood" to pray; I just need to be a willing vessel. And why wouldn't I want to pray these words for my children? They point directly to everything in God's will, everything He finds of worth! And so I chose the passage from Philippians (one of my favorite books) to pray over all my children. Some parents choose a different passage for each child, as a sort of creed or anthem for his or her life. 

And because I need a little more help (especially on days when my brain cells feel fried by lunchtime), my friend Elizabeth suggested devoting one day of the week to praying for one specific child. And this works out perfectly for me! Seven days, seven children! If I start with my oldest on Sunday, I will cover ALL my children in prayer by the end of the week. I wrote the days of the week and my children's names on an index card and taped it to my bathroom mirror. Then, even on the craziest days, I will still see the card and find the time to pray as I'm brushing my teeth.

So now, whether I am standing at the sink or sitting reading from my Bible, whether I am alone or surrounded by my ankle-biters, whether my spirit overflows or my spirit is dry, I can pray. I can connect my heart with God's heart. And that is always a good thing, for me, and my children.

(One more thing about the prayers in the epistles: in most of them, Paul writes that he is thankful for these churches, though these churches were far from perfect. In fact, Paul was often writing to correct them of false teaching or practices. But he was still thankful and encouraging. He didn't shy from speaking truth in their lives, but he also spoke in love. Isn't that what we all want for our children?)


*A great resource for praying through the Psalms is The Songs of Jesus by Timothy Keller.

Rediscovering Faith and Contentment

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. ~Hebrews 11:1

The initial giddiness of having a new baby has been replaced by the weariness of taking care of six children plus one adult. All last week, I was critical, short-tempered, and downright grumpy around my children and husband.

Baby blues? I wondered. But I never had postpartum depression before.

Which didn't mean that I couldn't have it with my sixth child, but it wasn't baby blues at all. It was, at the heart of it, discontentment.

I was just savoring my freedom with a toddler out of diapers. I was writing more, performing more, mentoring more… doing all the things that I've always wanted to do but couldn't because I've been busy with babies for the past ten years or so.

And now, I'm back to the start. Back to nursing, schedules, diaper bags, and nighttime feedings. And there was some envy in me as I listened to my husband talk about his work and the upcoming staff retreat. I watched him as he answered phone calls and text messages from people wanting his biblical advice, and as he left to meet someone at a coffee shop to give encouragement and care. I felt stuck, useless, overlooked.

This morning's sermon was from Hebrews. It was about waiting for God, even when nothing seems to be on the horizon. Abraham, Jacob, Joseph… just to name a few– they had faith. They believed despite the fact that they could not see. God's promise was enough.

And so it must be for me, if I call myself a woman of faith. Though I cannot see why God wants me to devote my talents and energy to raising six children rather than to be a missionary or worship leader, I need to trust that He has a plan for me and my children. Though I'd rather raise my hand and be the first to volunteer, I need to trust that now is not the time; later will be better. Though I think I am ready to take on so much, I need to trust that God is shaping me for something more. There is much that I can grow in.

My husband left for the staff retreat today. I took all six children with me to Costco (a giant warehouse store) to restock our refrigerator. It was my first time doing so, and I was surprised to find myself calmly maneuvering through the crowds, joking with my children, joyfully going through this task with them. 

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart… we sang this morning as our closing song.

It is not always easy to have a vision for the things unseen. But that is contentment– living with the knowledge that God's promises will be fulfilled, and in the meantime, finding delight in the waiting.

An Ode to My Mother

The girl looks in the mirror

Brushes her hair

Puts on some lipstick

And fakes a smile

But nothing she does

Can change her face

Or the fact that she is

Her mother's daughter

Last year, I wrote an ode to my mother-in-law for Mother's Day. At the time, I felt compelled to write it because of our culture's negative view of mothers-in-law. But I do know that many people (particularly women) have difficult (and more painful) relationships with their mothers as well. And so this year, I chose to write about my own mom.

First, I wouldn't say that my relationship with my mom is gut-wrenchingly difficult. In many ways, my mother and I are very similar. My generous heart and love for animals and singing comes from her. And my looks. Growing up, I always heard, "You look just like your mother!" Of course, I hated it. But maybe that's because I also inherited my stubbornness and quick temper from her.

And of course, two stubborn and quick-tempered people in the same house will have their share of disagreements. Also, we differed in our outlooks on life. I'm impulsive, a bit daring, and crave small adventures (though I've mellowed out since having five kids). My mom is fearful and doesn't like to try new things. Also, I desire openness and honesty. I like to ask questions and get answers. But my mother is very quiet, private, and reserved. She would say it's because she was raised Chinese and I was raised more American, but I think this is also very much a part of my personality. And so, throughout my childhood, when I needed someone to talk to, I couldn't always go to my mother. While I would want to discuss a situation, she would avoid the confrontation.

When I was young, I didn't understand this. It seemed to me that her unwillingness to talk was a sign that she didn't love me. Her busy schedule (she was a full-time mother-of-three and pastor's wife and worked part-time) and our tight budget meant we didn't go out often, plan big vacations, or have elaborate holiday or birthday celebrations.  In my desire for a deeper relationship with my mom, I became envious of other girls who had big parties and a mom who did things with them. Our relationship grew distant, to the point that we wouldn't talk unless we had to. When I started college, it became even easier to go for days without talking to her, though I was living at home at the time.

Now, as I've aged (and become a mother myself), I see more and more with open eyes. I see a woman who left her family and moved to a completely different country to serve God and the man she loved. I see a woman who received masters degrees in library science and Chinese history, but worked as a nanny, a maid, and a preschool teacher to help make ends meet. I see a woman who was timid, but did what she could to overcome that. She never would tell me about it, but I would see the books she was reading lying on the counter. She wasn't one who craved adventure, but adventure found her nonetheless, and she didn't choose to run away.

And lastly (and this is where I admire my mom the most), I see a woman who felt like a fish out of water because of her Chinese mannerisms and imperfect English, but chose to make the most of it in a foreign country for the sake of her family. In February, when I spoke at the women's tea at my church, my mother came. She doesn't drink tea (which sounds very non-Chinese, but tea now keeps her up at night), she doesn't eat sweets, she hates frou-frou parties, and she especially hates sitting at a table with a bunch of English-speaking strangers, but she came anyway. She is growing in courage and faith, and though I didn't want to be a copy of my mother when I was young, I want to mimic her now in this way.

I still long for a closer relationship with my mother, but I can't put on all the blame on my mom; it will take more effort on my part. The easy route is to tell myself, "Well, if she doesn't make the effort, why should I?" I've slipped into the habit of being superficial with her, but I know that it doesn't have to be that way. Just as we are both growing in courage and faith, our relationship can grow, even if it is in tiny increments. With God's help, our relationship can blossom into something new.

As before, I will not attempt to offer advice on how to "fix" your relationship with your mother, because, though there are similarities, mother/daughter relationships are as different as shells on a beach. I will offer these words from the Bible, the same words I offered in my post about my mother-in-law:

Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. ~Ephesians 4:2-3 (NIV)

And also, remember that the Bible commands us to honor our parents. It may be difficult for you to respect your mother, or obey your mother, or to even be in the same room as your mother, but God did put her in your life in a maternal role. Why He did so may be a mystery to you, but it is no mystery to Him. Pray that God will open your eyes and reveal that mystery to you. And this year's Mother's Day can be the beginning of something new between you and your mom.

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.

Redefining Normal

A few weeks ago, a friend was over with her three children for a playdate. This friend had grown up in an interesting environment; she was raised Quaker among Berkeley hippies. Never one to call herself typical, she now finds herself living in middle-class suburbia and asking questions that she never even thought to ask before she was a mother.

"What do you tell your kids about modesty?" she asked me as our conversation meandered from karaoke contests to family life. "At what age do you stop allowing your children to bathe together?"

The answer that came to me on the spot was, "We teach the children about privacy, especially between genders. After the age of five, we don't allow brothers and sisters to bathe together. But I don't mind if my girls are in the room when I'm changing my clothes."

"Basically," I continued, "we teach them what other people would expect them to do. They can't go to another person's house and just walk in on someone in the bathroom. If we were living in among hippies, if might be a different matter."

At the time, I thought it was a good answer, at least in the context of our conversation. But now I'm smacking myself on the forehead, because, really, how much of what I do is considered 'normal' anyway?! I don't parent based on what the rest of the world does, but on what the Bible teaches! It was a missed opportunity to discuss with my friend how we are both atypical parents, but in very different ways.

Sometimes I have to tell my children that what we do day in and day out and consider 'normal' is not 'normal' to the rest of the world. As my children grow older, I find myself having more of these conversations. The day will come when my son asks, "When can I have my own iPhone and Facebook account?" My daughter will want to go to the Prom or buy a bikini. And I will have to talk again about how we are not 'normal' people.

Or maybe, by then, I will have taught them well enough that they will have a new sense of 'normal'. I pray that as my child grow into young adults, they will have the courage and wisdom to make a stand as Godly, atypical, people.

We are Blind Beggars

I received news last week of another friend on the road to divorcing her husband. Through  the years, we have gone through the season of graduations, the season of weddings, the season of babies, and now, I feel, we are going through the season of divorces. I cried at the news.

Some will say that I am naive to believe that God can fix broken marriages, no matter what. 

I say, I would be naive to believe that Christians never go through hard times, but there is no naivety in believing that God can carry us, broken marriages and all, through those hard times.

But how do we fix them, then? What is the answer?

I don't know. Because you are talking about people, and people are not a system; they are unpredictable and they make choices. And it was the sum of many, many choices, made through many, many moments, both joyful and difficult, that led to the point where one or two people said, "I want to end this now."

And when one is in the midst of a broken family, or a broken body, or a broken heart, how does one pray? What does one ask for?

I don't know that either. Sometimes the fog is so thick that one can only cry as one stumbles about, blind.

How perfect that today's sermon was about Jesus and the blind beggars.

These blind men lived for most (or all) of their lives with a physical hardship, and the ostracization and ridicule that went along with it. There were no medical answers or easy solutions for fixing their problems, and they knew it. When Jesus came near, the men did not tell him what to do, but simply shouted, "Heal me!"

Oh, how often am I the blind beggar? But how often do I feel the need to have a solution before I pray for help? Asking God to "Heal me!" seems too simple. I want to be able to say, "Lord, give me the patience to listen to my husband, and the words to respond." So sometimes, when I don't know exactly what to ask for, I don't pray. I don't ask. I don't beg.

I must stop doing that. I was reminded today during communion that it is not what I do, but what Jesus did on the cross. In the case of my friends' divorces, when I feel that there is so much to say and yet, I don't know what to say, I must remember that Jesus can heal whether or not I know the solution.

And only He knows what a person needs. One blind man needed spit and warm hands on his eyes (Mark 8), another needed mud (John 9). A third was healed with words alone (Mark 10).

Who else but God can heal like that?!

Whether it is blindness, brokenness, or a lack of words, nothing can stop God's love and power. Whatever hard times you are going through right now, NEVER forget this:

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loves us. 

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, 

neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, 

nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us 

from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

~ Romans 8: 37-39