lofty parenting

I wanted to follow up on Sandi's comment about Sarah Clarkson's wonderful post.  This isn't about Sandi's comment, specifically, but about how hard intentional parenting is.

It's easy for someone like Sarah, who is twenty-five, unmarried, and not a mother, to write beautiful posts about ideal parenting.  She can't even fathom what emotional exhaustion feels like in relation to mothering.  Parents without special-needs children can't fathom how deep the emotional exhaustion can get, for some of us.

While I'm reading lofty posts, such as Sarah's, I remember that.  But I still need posts like hers, and still feel grateful that someone out there, obviously gifted, is writing them.  They help me dig deeper.  They remind me that God has big plans for my children, and that I am his instrument.  I have to be a faithful instrument, capable of greater things than I see all around me.  All around me is the world, which is far from Kingdom-minded.  We live in a Facebook, Twitter-minded, shallow world, consumed with image and materialism.

I, too, read aloud to my kids, sometimes fighting interruptions every few minutes.  My two girls don't sit still for long.  Ever.

And when it comes to media use, well, I do my best.  Shutting off the cable has helped enormously.  The older two children aren't interested in any videos I rent from the library, so their viewing decreased to nothing.  They still use the computer about thirty minutes a day.  Currently, their only website of interest involves math games, some of which don't utilize much math.

My three year old still views one half-hour library video a day.  I acknowledge that it's bad.  My heart aches that I can't be the parent I want to be, every second of the day.  But I force myself to be thankful for the incremental improvements I'm making.  Great parenting doesn't come of ourselves, but of God's work in our hearts.  We can't just read something lofty about parenting and make it happen in our home the next day.  God has to change us, first.  He has to put depth and long-suffering tendencies into our hearts.

And I feel him doing that.  Now, when I'm tempted to put in a video, I ask myself, am I really at the end of my rope, as a parent, at this very second?  Is there any way I can cope with this moment in another way?  Can I ask God for strength to take the high rode?  Can I ask him for ideas?  Or do I really need a break, to pull myself back to a saner place?

I'm learning that every decision I make matters.  Whether or not these kids grow up feeling blessed by their upbringing--as Sarah obviously does--will depend on how sacrificial I can be in every moment.

I need to stay off the computer except for planned short breaks.  I need to play with my kids instead of focusing solely on my to-do list.  I need to enjoy books with them throughout the day, rather than just at set storytimes.  I need to laugh and cuddle with them, drinking in their innocence and wonder.  I need to read my Bible in front of them so they understand, first hand, the sustenance it provides.

I need to do so much, and yet I'm so weak.  Sarah's post exposes my weakness, and teaches that I can't parent with a Kingdom perspective, without Christ.

"I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength."  Each time I'm about to pull a lazy, such as put in a video, this verse must be my mantra.

If I fail in a certain moment, I need only repent.   The repentance itself will strengthen me.  All is not futile.  God does amazing work in the human heart.  What I look like right now as a parent is far different than what I'll look like five years from now.  God will ensure that.  The same is true for you, dear reader.  We are works in progress.

Our part is to acknowledge our weakness, repent, and move forward with His strength.  Always forward. Always willing.

hello

Northeast Ohio hot in April?  How can that be?  We expect 35 to 50 degrees--not 80 degree, humid weather.

It seems like I just told you I would be taking a few days off to do the seasonal clothing switch.  Was that already six months ago?  That arduous task begs my attention once again.

I leave you with a phenomenal post by Sarah, daughter of Sally Clarkson.  It just might change how you parent.  A must read.  Bless her!

Happy Easter!

Still busy with a houseguest--sister-in-law leaves Tuesday afternoon.  Hope you all had a Happy Easter!  I spent Good Friday and Easter services in the church nursery, so I can't say I had an enlightening spiritual time.  Someday.  No hurry.  There is certainly something spiritual in the constancy of parenting.  We pour ourselves out sacrificially, no?

Yeah!

Yeah!  My husband got hired by the Census!  It's only for 6 to 8 weeks (starting 3rd week in April).  He will have to take a break from school, but at least we will be able to make a few more house payments with the extra money.  His computer technology school allows short breaks when necessary.

He'll still keep the part-time custodial job as well.

God really does provide!

April Fool's Morning

Someone told my children that it's April Fool's Day.  Since waking an hour ago, I've been treated to non-stop giggling and "What do you get when you cross a _________ with a _____________ riddles.  All jokes for the eight and under set are nonsensical.  Or perhaps that's only the case at my house?

Q:  What do you get when you cross a hippo with a microwave oven?
A:  A hoola poopy dance.

Q:  Why did the chicken cross the road?
A:  To get to the playground.

Q:  What do you get when you cross a baby with a brother?
A:  You get love-i-fied.

Q:  What do you get when you cross ten boys with a pool?
A:  A water fest poopy party

Q:  What would happen if twenty jack-in-the-boxes jumped on you?
A:  You'd have a jack-and-the-dance party.

Q:  Why do balls chase the April Fool's Bunny?
A:  Because they want candy.

I'll spare you all the others containing the word "poopy".  They were the eight-year-old's ideas.  A year ago I was foolish enough to breathe a sigh of relief that my boys weren't into potty humor.  It must be something that strikes a boy's funny bone between seven and eight years old.  A rite of passage, if you will.

My six-year-old boy still has decorum.  He came over to read what I've written here, and said  "Oh, no!  She's writing your poopy jokes, Peter!"

We'll just see what he's joking about next year, as a seven-year-old.  Something tells me I shouldn't pat myself on the back just yet.

Definitely, I need to explain the difference between a fool and a joke.

Published with comedians' permission.