Doing BIG Things

It's that time of year again.

Time to put another candle on the cake. And time to ask myself, "Did I use my time well this past year?"

Sometimes I get frustrated because there is so much I want to do: missions trips, book ideas, art and music. I've always had a great desire to do something to change the world, or in the words of Sara Groves, "and when the saints go marching in, I want to be one of them." I want to do something BIG.

And what have I done this past year? No books, no songs, and definitely no time with orphans in China, with churches in Africa, or with refugees in Iraq. I live a quiet, peaceful life in suburbia, potty training toddlers and driving teenagers around. I am doing so little compared to those who sacrifice their comfort, their health, their income, or their very lives for the Kingdom.

But this I've learned, and I continue to remind myself: doing what God calls me to do IS big. I want to go to Africa; God says, "Tend my sheep... in California. Impact the world here, where family and children are no long valued. Show them what My love looks like. Teach others, and continue to learn from your elders so you are ready when I guide you to a new adventure." And so I make a sacrifice too, the sacrifice of doing what I want.

Living the life God intended for me is about two things. One, there are times when He calls me to step out in courage and tackle something new. There are times when He calls you too. And two, there are times when He calls me to stay put and focus on the task He had appointed for me. And for some of you, this is where you are at. You wonder if there is more to life than this mundaneness. You wonder if you are making an impact on the world. But remember, it is not the size of the task that matters. One child or eight, writing a book or changing a diaper... we may feel that what we do is insignificant, but He never does. Not if we are doing what He called us to do, and not if what we are doing brings Him glory.

The Start of Another School Year

I finally finished lesson planning today. With five days to go. I am so thankful, because that means I can take the kids to the beach tomorrow without lugging along a textbook. And I can relax and soak in the last few days of calm.

I am hoping (and praying, of course) that this year will be different. It almost wasn't. A month ago, I was on the verge of going crazy while lesson planning, because I was worried about my sophomore son not having a biology class and I wasn't sure how I was going to teach him second-year French while my freshman daughter is still in first-year. I would lie in bed at night and try to see the situation from all sides, working it like a puzzle, and fretting about the outcome if I should fail to find a solution.

Thank God for Teaching from Rest by Sarah Mackenzie. I had heard about this book from many of my homeschooling friends, and when I saw it on sale online, I grabbed it. 77 pages. I can do that, I thought. Maybe I'll get something from it.

Right off the bat, I found myself agreeing with Sarah wholeheartedly.

The heart of this book is about remembering what our true task really is, and then throwing ourselves in completely. Giving our all. The raising of children, the teaching of truth, the sharing of life, the nourishment of imagination, and the cultivating of wisdom: These are all His anyway; we are merely His servants.

Yep, that's me! And that's why I'm up at night worrying! So then, how do I rest?

Sarah answers that question in the next chapter.

Rest begins with acceptance. Or, perhaps more accurately, with surrender. There will always be more you can do. You will never complete tasks entirely, because just on the horizon is tomorrow, and tomorrow the to-do list starts anew. It is so exhausting–sometimes even demoralizing–to realize that our work in raising up and teaching our children is never really done. But we must remember that we were never intended to finish it.

The more I read, the more I realized my mistakes in the past year. I had let the pressure of "high school" change my goals in homeschooling. I was approaching my son's high school years like I had approached mine, where I had planned every step and every class to ensure that doors would be open to me. Like any good mother, I want to give my son every opportunity! But the reality is that I can never give my son every opportunity. There are not enough hours in the day, or money in my bank. And that was stressing me out.

I needed to learn to rest, and as Sarah writes, "rest begins with acceptance."

We can't really rest in God's care until we trust that He will indeed care for us. And that means I can't teach from rest unless I trust Him with my kids' education too. I am not meant to take on this task of teaching and raising my children in my own strength, and neither are you. We are, however, meant to recognize every facet of our day as coming from the hand of God. It all passed through His fingers first, and He uses it to make sure that we lean hard on Him.

And isn't that what I saw in my own education? I was accepted to UC Berkeley based on test scores and grades, not based on what they actually knew about me. If they had known me, they would have known that I was interested in education, and UC Berkeley would extinguish that fire in me. They also would have known that I wanted to perform music, and so would have recommended UC Irvine instead. But God, my Maker, who knows me through and through, helped me get accepted to UC Berkeley because it really was the perfect place for me to develop my musical talents. The small and unique music department at that school was exactly what I needed to flourish and grow, while the campus's atheistic atmosphere challenged my faith. God knew exactly what I needed.

And that is where I am now with my children's education. I stopped worrying about biology and French 2 for my son. I remembered that I am not teaching so that I can brandish my son's impressive transcript (and therefore prove that I am a capable educator), but that I am teaching to nurture a man. That means spending more time this year on reading and less on grammar workbooks. That means reviewing French 1 with him and cementing more of those tricky verb conjugations in his head. And it means enjoying my last three years with my oldest. And if somewhere down the line, he needs to take a year or two at a community college to meet a requirement for a specific university, so be it. It is not the end of the world. God knows exactly what my son needs, and I trust that He is the one directing his path.

I will end with Sarah's words.

It's important to remember that rest is not ease. This isn't idealism. It isn't simple and peaceful in the sense of being easy or gentle. Teaching from rest is meaningful learning and growth–but without the anxiety and frenzy so common in our day...Peace comes from recognizing that our real task is to wake up each day and get our marching orders from God. It comes from diligence to the work He hands us, but diligence infused with faith, with resting in a God's promises to guide and bless us.

To all you homeschooling parents out there, here's to another year of restful and fruitful learning!

Beyond the Classroom (Part 1 of 2)

Schools everywhere are starting up again. For some, it's a happy return; for other's, it's a shock to the system.

My friend fell into the second category this year. Her oldest started sixth grade– junior high here. After six happy years of elementary school, her daughter is now entering the fast-paced, competitive world of placement tests and honors classes.

And she wasn't prepared for it.

At least, not as prepared as the students who had spend the summer doing workbooks or going to tutoring sessions, learning advanced math. My friend's daughter had had a wonderful summer playing games, practicing piano, and camp with her family. She is not "behind", but now feels like she is.

My friend shared her frustrations on her blog, ending her post with:

Now that I "know" what I should have known about school, I think next summer is going to be different for my kids. Less time in the backyard and more time plowing through workbooks.

This doesn't sound like my friend at all! To encourage her, I wrote her a lengthy reply:

I understand your frustration. You expected school to be a place of learning, but now your children are unknowing entered in a race. Be careful because you will pass on whatever anxieties you have. If you give top priority to academic achievements, your children will learn to do the same. Then they see school as a series of tests and peers, with the end goal being "prestigious school" and "top career", rather than learning for the sake of learning and applying it to life.

It is true that the start of junior high means less time to "play", but I don't see "lots of boredom time to become naturally creative" as always equated with "play", especially as children grow. Children need time to pursue what feeds their soul. They need time to rest. They need time to process emotions and thoughts. They need time to invest in people. (Adults need this too- why do you think adult coloring books are such a big thing right now?)

The key is balance. I am grateful to my parents for giving me time to play piano and allowing me to take music classes while my friends took AP French and AP US History. But I wish they had also put less emphasis on academics and more on family time, friendships, Sabbath rest, and learning life skills. There are things that schools do not teach our children. There is so much more to life than GPAs, SATs, and PhDs!

You're doing a great job!  It doesn't sound like your children wasted their summer in front of a screen. Your son loves looking at giant books on chemistry! Your daughter loves playing piano. Nurture those desires in them and they won't have a problem in the future.

It is so easy for parents to get lost in the busyness of school and forget that education goes beyond the classroom. Maybe you are feeling frustrated with school. Maybe you feel lost in the shuffle too. I hope this encourages you as another school year begins!

Under His Wings

(I was feeling discouraged and I needed this reminder.)

Be Bored This Summer

"I'm bored!"

It's inevitable, isn't it? Summer is only half-way over and the kids don't know what to do with all their free time. And they expect you to do something about it.

Now don't get me wrong. Summer is the best time for playdates and outings with your kids. But don't feel the need to be the one shuttling your children from one activity to another all summer! There are plenty of articles out there (like this one) that says "boredom" is a good thing! I'm not a psychologist or child development expert, but I have seen it first hand. "I'm bored" in my house is code for "I want to watch a movie." I respond with, "Here's a list of chores you can help me with" and the child disappears. Ten minutes later, I see this child painting a picture, or inventing a new game outside, or playing with a sibling. Boredom, in the right setting, can open the door to fun and creativity.

And what is the right setting? A place where the child has the space to explore (with boundaries, of course) both physically and mentally. Outside, they can dig or build without feeling like they are going to ruin the carefully-landscaped yard. Inside, they have access to books, paper, craft materials, musical instruments, and open-ended toys. What they are NOT doing is numbing their minds with television and the Internet, which is what our current culture tends to do to fill "dead" time.

Remember, boredom isn't simply something the "experts" recommend. God made us to need down-time. He even commands it! 

Six days shall work be done, but on the seventh day is a Sabbath of solemn rest, a holy convocation. You shall do no work. It is a Sabbath to the Lord in all your dwelling places. ~Leviticus 23:2

When we rest, we have time to ponder. We meditate. We absorb. Giving your children a time of inactivity allows them to reflect on their own emotions and thoughts. Then their minds know better what they need: to imagine, to sleep, to pray, to process, to problem-solve, to explore. In my family, we ALL rest for an hour on Sundays, regardless of how the children are feeling. And if we've had several busy days in a row, I oftentimes say 'no' to an activity in order to give the children's minds a chance to catch up with their bodies.

This summer, take away the remote, the smart phone, or the Wii every now and then. Give your child's mind the freedom to roam. If you're going on a road trip, feel free to turn off the DVD player or the music. Tell your kids why. Role model it by saying, "Mom and Dad need quiet time sometimes, just to think. And to enjoy the scenery. And each other." Great conversations and shared memories can sprout from these moments.

So go ahead! Be a little bored this summer!

A Day Wasted

Today, my husband and I did NOT drive three hours to Chico. 

We did NOT have lunch with our friend there.

We did NOT attend a wedding.

And we did NOT drive three hours home.

Instead, we dropped off the older children at my in-laws (as planned) and my husband went to see a doctor. Then we stayed home all day with our one-year-old.

Even then, with a day wide open before me and not the usual crew to care for, I did not do my usual thing.

I did NOT clean the house. 

I did NOT make dinner. 

I did NOT get ready for school on Monday. 

I had a whole day, and I wasted it on a walk, playing the piano, talking to my neighbors, eating Chinese food from the restaurant down the street, sleeping, being extra kind to my husband, and thinking about how single parents and children from divorced families are the widows and orphans of today.

Okay, so I didn't waste my day.

But some people would have called it a waste, like I took a hundred dollars and spent it all on candy.

"You didn't get anything done today!" they would say.

"Yes, I did!" I would argue back. "I rested." 

And rest is NOT candy.

Rest is nourishment.

Come to Me

February ended and March began, and I barely noticed. Besides being covered in hives for half of February, I had sick children to care for, an uncle who passed away after a long fight with cancer, an aunt and two cousins to comfort, and my dear husband's birthday to celebrate. I was so preoccupied that I was putting milk in the pantry instead of the refrigerator. At least, I think I put the milk in the pantry. I don't remember.

Most days I wake up feeling tired. Then I tackle the day and go until I've finished everything on my list and go back to bed, feeling more tired. After a while, the fatigue compounds, and when I am feeling really, really tired, the headaches and self-pity start. That's when Grumpy Mama Baird emerges. And the guilt begins. I tell myself, "This is nothing compared to what Jesus went through!" I feel like a failure for yelling at my children and for being short with my husband and I feel completely undeserving of love or grace. Then, when I have a few days to rest and catch up, I'm back to my normal self, until the next time. It's been like this since October, and it's a cycle I want to break.

This morning I did NOT want to go to church. I was running on little sleep. I drove to Sacramento and back yesterday. And on top of that, we lost an hour due to Daylight Savings. I wanted to give in to my fatigue and moan and gripe and hole up in my house. 

But He said to me, "Come. Come to me." So I set my mind on Jesus– not his death and suffering on the cross, but his life and care for people who suffered. When Jesus met a suffering person, He never belittled him or her. And though my suffering will never be as great as what He endured on the cross, or even close to what some people endure right now in their lifetime, I feel His love for me as I struggle even with the little things. I hear His voice saying, "Rita, it's okay. I will help you through this. I love you."

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest." ~Matthew 11:28

6 Things Having 6 Kids Has Taught Me

Most people think my life must be crazy. Or I must be crazy. Why would I choose to have six kids otherwise? Noise, mayhem, the never-ending demands– if I'm not crazy, then I must be Superwoman.

I never pictured myself as a mother of six. Like most everyone else, I had to learn the basics of childcare and parenting when my first child was born. But then, with each child who entered my life, I discovered that there was still more I had to learn, though the lessons, surprisingly, were not what I would have imagined them to be. Raising six children has taught me more than patience and efficiency. It has taught me…

1) how to ask for help.
I have always been an independent person. I wanted to do everything myself, and I didn't think I needed to change, even when I found myself with a baby attached to my breast or a toddler attached to my leg. But as the number of children I had increased while the number of hands I owned stayed the same, I became more and more frustrated. I needed more hands! And more hands came, in the form of friends, family, my husband, and even my children now. All I have to do is ask!

2) how to rest.
As I said, I used to try to do everything. Before having children, it never bothered me to go from event to event, task to task. I soon discovered that with children, this kind of living wears out both the children and the parent. Now, when someone asks me or invites me to do something, I say "no" if I need to (without feeling guilty). We have quiet time in the middle of the day, so the younger ones and I can nap. Every Sunday after church, the family has mandatory rest time (which means lying down without books or anything). After a string of busy days, we take a day or two to stay home. I remember God's commandment to honor the Sabbath, and one way of doing so is by resting.

3) how to clean.
Messes never bothered me until now! I used to tell myself, "It's not that bad. Do it later," and so procrastinated on cleaning until company was coming over. That changed when I noticed how quickly the bathroom got dirty after a day. Books that I just put away are scattered across the floor… again. Toys that are left out become a hazard and clutter up precious little living space. My house is far from spotless, but I don't procrastinate anymore when it comes to cleaning! Keeping messes to a minimum helps me keep my life organized and makes this busy home more enjoyable for everyone.

4) how to communicate.
Sometimes I think my words are clear, then wonder why my child is not doing what I asked! Eye contact and well-defined instructions (or consequences) are crucial if we are all to survive living together. Also, to go beyond 'survival', I have learned how to speak with love and grace and directness when heart issues need to be addressed. And sometimes, the one with the issues is me. "I'm sorry" and "Do you forgive me?" are well-practiced in our home.

5) how to hug.
I didn't grow up with hugs. Hugging is still not my natural inclination. I consciously tell myself to hug my children, and happily receive their hugs in return!

6) how to appreciate the little things.
Ten minutes of quiet.
A roly-poly.
A short but deep conversation with a friend.
My husband washing the dishes.
Taking a walk with my family.
A clean room.
Food on the table.
A good night's sleep.
"I love you."

Having six children can be chaotic at times, but the benefits, visible and invisible, far outweigh the work and stress. Though the lessons may not be easy,  I am looking forward to all that God wants to teach me through my kids!

This is my story, this is my song...

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 another one from 2011…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(I realized it might be helpful to some of you to hear the story of how I met Jesus Christ. My pastor had advised me to type it up as an exercise, to prepare myself if ever someone asked me. If you've never written out your story, try it. You will find that yours is remarkable!)

I used to feel like I didn’t have a story, because I had no extraordinary meeting with God. When you’ve been going to church for your whole life, it’s easy to think that you know God. I knew what other people said about Him, but I didn’t really know Him. I gradually became acquainted with God, as my Savior, as my Friend, and as my Lover, slowly over 32 years. This is what my story is about. 

My dad is a pastor, and I attended church as soon as I left the hospital. The church building became my home away from home. On those long days when my dad had meeting after meeting, I would play ‘hide-and-seek’ and ‘sardines’ with my siblings, running up and down the stairs and in and out of closets. I knew all the best hiding places in a church, which are in the curtains, in the pulpit, and under the communion table. Our family would eat lunch and sometimes dinner there, and I practiced piano there. I remember coming up with games that involved crawling under the church pews on my belly. And I hated having to wear dresses on Sundays, because it’s easier to crawl under the pews with pants on! But I did learn other things besides  ‘hide-and-seek’. I also knew every memory verse, every Bible story,  every hymn sung in church. There was no question in Sunday School that I couldn’t answer.

Except one.

When I was ten, a teacher asked me, “Have you accepted Jesus as your personal Savior?”

I had always assumed that I was going to heaven, just like my parents, just like everyone who goes to church. I finally learned that I had to choose for myself, that all the things I did on Sundays were not the way to heaven. I realized that I was a sinner, even if I went to church and was basically a ‘good’ person, because no matter how hard I tried, I could never be perfect.  My sin separated me from God, my Creator, and separation from Him equals death. So I was dead, and would remain dead, unless I accept Christ’s gift, that He died on the cross, in my place, taking my penalty. All I had to do was accept that gift, but I had to do it myself.

And so, that day, I accepted Jesus as my Savior. Then I knew that I was guaranteed eternal life in Heaven with Him.

As a new believer, I tried to do everything right. Sunday School teachers told me that I would become a new person, so I prayed about my short temper and asked God to help me with that. The teachers told me to read the Bible everyday, so I tried to do that. God did reveal Himself to me in little ways (my bad temper did get better), but my life seemed very much the same. I was so confused, asking myself “What more am I suppose to do? How can I be a better Christian when I already go to church and do all these things?” There was suppose to be some kind of growth in my relationship, but I didn’t feel it happening. So I strove to be a better person, and as I grew older, I also started teaching Sunday School, playing piano in the service, and leading the youth group. I guess I felt that I must owe God something for what He did for me. I would think back to the day I made my decision to follow Jesus, and try even harder to keep my end of the ‘bargain’. I knew what I needed to do to live a good Christian life, but sometimes I failed, and then I would call myself a bad Christian. At that point, I was so busy in the church that I had a hard time really listening to God. To many people, I looked solid, but there were many holes in my faith. But God never turned from me, even when I entered my college years and started questioning Him as new philosophies tried to fill those holes. He waited for the day when I was ready, ready to hear Him.

That day came when I was twenty. All it took was a sermon series on God’s love (not, “For God so loved the world…so He sent His son…and you must do this to respond”, but “God loves you! He enjoys you! He wants to be with you, and that’s why He sent His son!”) That was the first time I ever ‘heard’ someone say that God enjoys me, and that all He wants is a relationship with me. His entire motivation for sending Jesus to the cross was love! And He wants to give me more good things, beginning with the gift of His Son. I finally understood that ‘eternal life’ was not something that happens when I ‘go to Heaven’, but something that happens NOW, because the cross took away the gap between God and me, restoring the loving relationship between my Maker and me. And I can still do things to serve Him, but my love for Him is the foundation from which the service must flow.

For the first time in my life, my heart felt whole. The holes were gone. My self-image changed. I saw God not as the ‘Judge’, but as the ‘Friend’ and ‘Lover’ who accepted me, scars, filth and all. And it felt good knowing that my life’s goal is not working to get God’s attention. Sometimes I still fall into that trap. I get focused on reading the Bible as another thing on my checklist, instead of a time to be with God, my Friend. I volunteer for things because I know I should, not because I genuinely care. Sometimes I get so busy that I forget that I need to be still and listen. I need to hear him call me ‘Beloved’, which means that I need to

just

be

loved.

This is what I’m working on now; this is the sin that still creeps in, and prevents me from feeling like I’m truly abiding in Christ.

And so, for the first ten year of my life, I knew ‘of’ God. The second ten years, we were acquaintances. The third ten years, we’ve been friends. Now I’m thirty-two, and I want to know Him as my Lover. I want to fall completely in love with him,  and be like an old-married couple with Him. I want to live in the knowledge that God’s Son on the cross was not a one-time act of love, but a symbol of ALL the love He has for me and wants to give me.

(and for those of you who are parents, I want to say, "Don't assume that bringing your child to Sunday School is enough. And don't assume that having a child that serves in the church is enough. Talk to your children about Christ, when you are walking, when you are eating, whenever you are together!") 

Hope for Writers, Rest for Me

Sometimes, a friend knows just the right things to say. And last night, my friend was Madeleine L'Engle.

My husband had given me her book 'A Circle of Quiet' for our anniversary last July, and I had yet to read past page 20. By some inner prompting, I decided to pick up the book and read at least a page or two before going to bed. Immediately, I was transported to a quiet, coastal coffee shop, listening to Madeleine talk about her experience as a young writer and mother. Somehow, she knew what I needed to hear, and her heart was on the same page as mine.

I was always tired. So was Hugh. During the decade between thirty and forty, most couples are raising small children, and we were no exception… my love for my family and my need to write were in acute conflict. The problem was really that I put two things first. My husband and children came first. So did my writing. Bump...

But during the decade when I was in my thirties, I couldn't sell anything. If a writer say he doesn't care whether he is published or not, I don't believe him. I care. Undoubtedly I care too much. But we do not write for ourselves alone. I write about what concerns me, and I want to share my concerns. I want what I write to be read...

I covered the typewriter in a great gesture of renunciation. Then I walked around and around the room, bawling my head off. I was totally, unutterably miserable… I uncovered the typewriter. In my journal I recorded this moment of decision, for that's what it was. I had to write. I had no choice in the matter. It was not up to me to say I would stop, because I could not. It didn't matter how small or inadequate talent. If I never had another book published, and it was very clear to me that this was real possibility, I still had to go on writing.


I often picture writers as professionals, with a specific place and time to write, a notebook and pen always beside them, and a few sticky notes on the wall. At least, those were the "real" writers. But here was Madeleine L'Engle, the Madeleine L'Engle, sounding a bit like me-- trying to frantically jot down a beautifully crafted sentence while stir-frying and hushing a child on her hip; trying to find time, even just a few minutes, to work on a page; trying to be true to herself and find someone to publish 'A Wrinkle in Time' and 'Meet the Austins', but only to receive rejection note after rejection note; trying to give up writing, only to find it flowing from her despite her attempts to stuff it down.

And so I start 2014 with a refreshed outlook, where I am not dwelling on the writing that was (much of which was rejected), but the writing that will be. There are still opportunities out there, and so much inspiration! I can try to stop writing, or I can choose to embrace it for what it is.

Which leads me to my word for the year: REST.

I want to REST in God's everlasting arms, and not in the world's fickle embrace.
I want to REST when I feel impatience, anger, or frustration rise.
I want to REST even when my to-do list is beckoning to me. 
This year, I want to REST.


(The idea of focusing on a one-word resolution for the New Year is not my own. It is from my friend Laura's blog, which I recommend reading, especially if you've recently lost a loved one. Her father died suddenly a little over a year ago, and she writes openly and tenderly about her healing process. Click here to read 'A Letter to My Dad'. Also, she's very creative, and has TONS of crafting ideas!)

Because He Lives

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow...

We were singing this hymn at church this morning. It's one I've heard all my life (and especially love) but today, I was singing with my lips and not my heart. Lately, I've felt like a desert in need of a flood. With a friend in the hospital on the verge of death (thank God she's home now!), non-stop school and activities, and children wanting Mom around the clock, I am parched, cracked, and withering. The little rain that does fall collects in shallow puddles on the surface, but dries up before the soil and plants are properly nourished.

because He lives, all fear is gone...

Why do I continue to let fear of failure and judgment rule my actions? Why am I afraid of loving with abandon, of not being good enough, of losing my joy? Sometimes, it would be easier to stop caring, to stop giving, to stop obeying the call I heard so many years ago.

because I know He holds the future...  

I have to trust that the words of the hymn are true. Like I have to trust that the words of 2 Corinthians 12:9 are true:

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 

Paul goes on to say, "Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecution, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

And that is why, I can sing, though ever so softly,

and life is worth the living... just because He lives.

I cannot allow my insufficiency to rule my life. Though there are days when I don't want to get out of bed, or talk to people, or clean, or teach, I hold onto the hope that Christ gives me, because He lives.

More Beauty

When I say "more beauty", I am not talking about getting a make-over, a face lift, a new wardrobe, or a new 'do. That is beauty as defined by People Magazine. I am talking about Beauty as defined by God. The difference is that God's definition is eternal, and not found in the shape, the color, or the emotion of the thing (or person). Instead, it is found in the way the thing (or person) reflects God, because it is not the object itself but its beautiful Maker that makes it beautiful. A single flower, the vast ocean, a new born baby, an elderly man, are all Beautiful because we see in them the face and fingerprints of their Creator. A simple song, a conversation over dinner, a walk with a child, are all Beautiful because they remind us of that "other place", the place where Love lives. 

In The Weight of Glory, C.S. Lewis writes:

The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These things-- the beauty, the memory of our own past-- are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.

Lately, I had been feeling weary. I blamed lack of sleep, the weight of responsibilities, little time with friends, but what I was really lacking was Beauty. I had forgotten to see God around me, to take time to bask in His glory, and to enjoy Him. I was living without being alive.

But as I took Communion yesterday, I was reminded that God provides us with all we need: the bread, which is what sustains us physically, and the wine, which is what makes life enjoyable. We need both to truly live. To quote C.S. Lewis again, "We do not want merely to see beauty... we want something else which can hardly be put into words-- to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it."

I need more Beauty in my life. But how to achieve this? I asked myself. Is there something I need to do more of, or something I need to cut out of my life? It's a fine line, because it is not really about what I do, but what I choose to focus on as I'm doing it. A doctor can heal without "seeing" his patients, and painter can paint without loving the subject. The only way to gain more Beauty in my life is to slow down and intentionally look, which means when I'm watering the vegetable plants, I stop to ponder on God's creativity and wonder how life comes from a tiny seed. When I'm teaching my children, I look into their faces and cherish them as their Heavenly Father cherishes them. When I sit down to dinner, I'm not thinking about the dishes, or checking off another meal from my to-do list, but I am enjoying the food and the people around the table. Otherwise, my work has become one of those "dumb idols", and I have lost my connection with the Maker of Beauty.

To quote C.S. Lewis yet again, I will close with this passage from Till We Have Faces, "The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing-- to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from-- my country, the place where I ought to have been born."

What a wonderful way to remind myself to keep my eyes on God as I continue on this journey of serving Him through homeschooling, homemaking, loving my husband, and loving my community.

To Guilty Moms Everywhere

My kids ask me on occasion to sing them a song at bedtime. Sometimes I say 'yes', but most of the time, I don't. As much as I would love them to have memories of being sung to sleep by their mother, I just don't have the energy (or voice) to sing after working twelve hours. I kiss them all, say "I love you, good night!" then look forward to a movie on the couch with my husband.

I know there are parents who cuddle with their children at bedtime, or ask each and every child about their day, or pray over each child, but I don't. And I do feel guilty sometimes. We cuddle (all of us) on the couch for read-aloud stories before bedtime. We hold hands in a circle with Dad and pray. We talk at dinner, we sing songs at lunch, we have dance parties in the morning... and I still feel guilty.

This post is in response to the article about the guilty mom on the iPhone. All I have to say is, if you're going to point your finger at the mom on the phone, you also have to point your finger at the teenager who can't sit still for fifteen minutes without checking for texts, or the man who interrupts your conversation with him to 'get that call'. If you want to write about the abuse of technology, don't just write about moms. Because moms already feel guilt, whether someone points it out or not. All moms are guilty: of not being able to give our children ALL that we want to; of not having more arms, hands, laps, heads, ears, mouths, etc...; of being limited by our talents, personalities, energy levels, budgets, and basic human needs.

Like the basic human need to feel like a person, not a robot. I'm always looking for a creative outlet, because sometimes I feel like I'll scream if I have to wash one more dish! That's why I'm here typing on the computer while my five kids are doing... I don't know what. Actually, it's relatively quiet here: my three-year-old is singing and coloring with his big brother, the baby is pounding on the floor with a plastic rolling pin, the older girls are probably crafting in their room. If one comes to me with a non-urgent need, I would say, "Give me ten minutes to finish this" or "Ask your sister to help you with that" (while telling myself not to feel guilty). If all of a sudden I hear, "Give that back!" or "The baby's eating dirt again!" then I'll reluctantly leave my thoughts at the computer and refocus on my mothering task. 

Moms are on-call around the clock. Taking a break from cooking, cleaning, and playing is legitimate. Put the baby in the crib and take a five-minute shower. Put on some make-up and feel pretty. Videos help you get other things done. Tell your older child to watch the younger one for a few minutes. Call a friend and chat. Or better yet, ask that friend to babysit so you can have some desperately-needed alone time. Children need to learn to play by themselves, take care of others, and work through disagreements. They need to hear, "Please don't interrupt while I'm talking to Mrs. So-and-so" or "I can't play right now" from time to time. It's okay if they don't always have your undivided attention, and it's okay if you're not always 'in charge'.

So, to guilty moms everywhere, remember that in order to do your best as a mom, you need to balance it with other things: time with friends, a date with your husband, an hour a week to indulge in a hobby. These things won't detract from your mothering, they'll enhance it! If you're rested, you'll have more energy for going to the park, and patience for dealing with a tantrum. If you've had adult conversation, you're more enthusiastic about singing the 'Bob the Builder' song for the fifteenth time!

I will say that if you interact more with your phone than with your kids in a 24-hour period, you might want to makes some changes, or if most of your quality time with your kids is spent in the car, you might want to restructure your day. But in the end, we all do what we can, and we all take little steps in growth.

The Seis-Tres Club, Day 15

It is the last day of our club's trial period. All three of its members had had to deal with sickness in the past two weeks, but all three are all still eager to continue the club.

When I asked Elizabeth what she thought about our club, she said, "I am so thankful for the jump start to spend time with The Lord in a relatively quiet house. My whole day flows so much better when I get up early and put Him first." 

She sums it up so well. I myself have learned much in two weeks.

I have learned that I should not be goal-oriented in my spiritual life. All too easily, my perfectionism turns into legalism. Which means faith loses its meaning.

I have learned that reading the Bible consistently means the words stick. They are in the forefront of my thoughts all day long.

I have learned that I like watching the sun rise.

I have learned that hard things are easier to do with a friend. I don't need to be a Lone Ranger; it is encouraging and healthy to have Christian sisters by my side.

I have learned that I'm in a much better mood in the morning if I wake up before the children, than if I get out of bed only after a child has said, "I'm hungry!" for the third time.

I have learned that being intentional with God in the morning means I am more intentional with my day. My actions and motives are more Christ-centered, and I am more in tune to the voice of the Spirit.

And a surprise bonus-- I no longer hop on the computer first thing in the morning as a way to ease into the day. Because of all of the above, by the time I'm finish with my conversation with God, I'm ready to make breakfast, I'm cheerful when I greet my children "Good morning!", and I'm excited about what lies ahead.

The point is, discipline is good, but like sleep, the good can become bad if I give it too much worth. I need to be seeking God, not a regimen. And give myself flexibility, because, after all, I am not a robot, and neither are my children. But I want to be consistent enough to make this a habit. I want to get to the place where if I miss a morning with God, I get that same unsettling feeling of having gone to bed without brushing my teeth. Because when I wake up to God, He is the foundation of my day, my Rock. Then harsh winds may blow, but I will not be shaken. The floodwaters may rise, but I will walk upon them. The earth may quake, and all around me crumble, but I will still be standing, with my hands raised in praise.

The Seis-Tres Club, Day 6

Don't call me 'cheater', but I slept in today (until 7am!)

Natalie and I had agreed that a day of rest would be okay, and after a full week of performances, sick children, a surprise birthday party, Thanksgiving, Christmas tree chopping, and no naps, I think I have rightfully earned it.

But in six days' time I have proved to myself that waking up early is not impossible for me. And I've proved to myself that scheduling something in my day (because I don't often like to run by schedules) can be beneficial. On top of that, my days are more focused and full of intention, I enjoyed an impromptu Bible study with my husband on Friday, and I feel so connected to my friend through our early-morning texts of encouragement.

I'm already looking forward to my sunrise date with God tomorrow!

My Sabbath

I've never been good about taking a day of rest. It seems to me that even now, with modern technology to help us with our housework, I can't stop working for even one day.

Part of it is fear. In the back of my mind, I'm thinking, If I don't do laundry today, I'll fall behind.

Part of it is pride. I can still make a scrumptious, home-cooked breakfast and dinner. We will not resort to meals of convenience just because it's Sunday! Or spend the extra money on eating out! Or use the dryer while the sun is still shining!

And part of it is my workaholic attitude and lack of planning, really. Women who have culturally observed the Sabbath did things the day before to be sure that there will be no work on Sunday. I could make meals and freeze them (and still have a home-cooked dinner), or do a double load of laundry on Saturday. And even if I can't (because Saturdays are sometimes full of activity), I could still allow myself to stop spinning like a tornado.

So really, there is no excuse.

But now with my husband working on Sundays, I have found that lightening my load on the Sabbath is better for my own sake. Breakfast can be cereal or oatmeal (usually with a good smoothie on the side to fill up tummies). I can go one day without hanging the laundry to dry (aren't we glad someone invented the clothes dryer?) And I can take the pressure off of myself to live up to some imaginary standard that I have set up for myself, and take the time instead to look to Him who truly defines me. 

And one of the ways He defines me is through music. I have started playing the piano on Sunday afternoons, because I do miss the days when I led music at church. Today, I pulled out my big book of classical pieces and Debussy, Chopin, Bach, and Beethoven refreshed my spirit. And my soul rejoiced in Him who made me. 

In a Solitary Place

I apologize for not writing for more than a week, but sometimes, it's best for me to take a break because I can overthink life. Rest is good. I'll be back when I'm ready.


Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. Mark 1:35

Spread Thin

This week is spreading me thin.

An unexpected medical bill, a to-do list that grows faster than it shrinks, a cold from my 2-year-old, and a baby that is looking to make more room where my diaphragm should be... oh, and it's only Tuesday.

I started school today 15 minutes late, before realizing that I hadn't even done the breakfast dishes. Everything after that was off, either late or out-of-place. I tried to lie down for a nap at two o'clock, but my mind would not stop racing. The image that came into my head was Elastigirl (from another one of my favorite Pixar films), her limbs being pulled in four different directions. Of course, Elastigirl has an ability that I don't have. She can make her body into a parachute, spread thin but not broken. I, on the other hand, am a piece of cloth that is stretched to the point of tearing.

But then a new image comes into my head. The piece of cloth is being pulled, and held up to the window. The sunlight shines through the pattern and sets it aglow, like a beautiful stained glass window. And that is when I understand: when I am spread thin, God can shine through me.

Snuggling With God

I've had a backlog of writing in my head for the past few weeks, so much to say, so little time. I'll need to take a break from blogging in order to work on other projects, but I did want to leave you with this thought.

Have you snuggled with God lately?

Interesting question, I know. Snuggling is not on the list of 'religious' things to do, but then again, when was Christianity about 'religious' things? (Jesus never said, "If you love me, do religious things for me.")

Snuggling has been on my mind quite a bit lately. When my little one sits in my arms, perfectly content, I feel a love there unlike any other. When I'm in my husband's arms, I feel a deep connection with him. For me, it's understanding that I don't have to do anything for these people to love me. They are happy just being with me.

But I'm not usually a good snuggler. I like to move, I like to be busy. I want to check things off my list, and make things for people, and do things to ensure that people notice me, need me, like me. Sometimes, that gets in the way of my relationship with God. I'm so busy being busy, I forget: He just wants to snuggle with me.

So last Sunday, during communion at church, God and I snuggled. I didn't sing during the music, I didn't pray, I didn't try to think deep, spiritual thoughts. Instead, I imagined myself wrapped in God's strong arms, and I leaned into them for a great big hug.

It was good. I felt a peace that flowed through me, and a love that poured over me. And the peace and love stayed with me for the whole day; even now, as I'm writing about it, I can feel its effects. Definitely something to make a daily habit of.

Life is busy, but we all need a good snuggle every now and then from the people around us. I'm glad to have plenty of 'snugglers' around my house, because they will always remind me: Have I snuggled with God lately?