I was nursing my Beth at naptime when it happened.
"Harry bit Mary and it's real bad!"
Racing out of Beth's room, I brace myself for blood and tears. Instead, I find a timid Mary. Too quiet, considering the bite drew slight blood.
"Why did Harry bite you, Mary?"
"I don't know", she answered quiet, not looking at me.
I washed the wound and consulted Google about hamster bites before deciding on ointment or dressing.
"Peter, you didn't leave Mary alone with Harry, did you?"
"Well....yes. I got distracted", Peter admitted. "But I told her not to touch him!"
Minutes later, applying hydrogen peroxide, I hear Peter say, "Harry isn't moving much."
I finished up and went to check on the hamster, who seemed to be cuddling down for a nap. Satisfied, I left to interrogate Mary.
A little later, "Something's wrong with Harry!"
Alarmed, I rush to check him again.
My heart beats wild as I watch an obviously wounded rodent. He depends on us for everything, I lament inside, and we let him down.
Internal despair makes me more insistent with Mary, who is still slow to respond to my inquires. "What did you do to Harry, Mary? I think he's dying."
Feeling this was Peter's fault for leaving such a young child alone with his fragile pet (he'd been warned many times), I assured Mary she wasn't in trouble.
"What were you doing when Harry bit you?"
Fifteen minutes later, the truth. She held him and tried to feed him a sunflower seed--something she'd seen brother do many times.
Harry loves sunflower seeds. Writing that pains me now.
Harry bit her and she dropped him. She was standing up at the time, on our laminate wood dining-room floor.
My heart in knots, I check on Harry again. "No pain for our little friend, Father, please."
Google tells me that, yes, it's common for hamsters to die after falls. Their bones are so small, a two-foot fall is like a two-story fall for humans. Oh, Father, he must be in pain. Take it away!
Heart sick, I tell Peter we were wrong. "You're not mature enough to have a hamster. You left Mary alone with him, after many warnings. "
Harry passes away about an hour later. Our day goes dark.
In my head I wrestle for hours.
Was I too harsh? I wonder if we should get another hamster the next day. Peter will miss him dearly. He's a troubled kid, what with his various neurological challenges. He needs a pet to help him relax.
Peter and Mary both, at times, held Harry while standing up. I warned them to sit down, but toddler Beth is a full-time job, taking me from room to room often. I couldn't stand guard consistently.
And we didn't know the seriousness of falls for these little pets.
My mind searches. By replacing Harry, am I risking another pet's life? Isn't that selfish, to want to appease my children, at the expense of a defenseless rodent? Peter disobeyed. He needs to learn a lesson and go without a pet for several months.
Toward evening, something happens in my heart. Jesus.
I always give you another chance, you know. Why are you without mercy? Extend it, and grace too. (no punishment, and another pet)
My heart stills, finally. I know this is the right thing.
Husband calls.
I called him earlier in distress, telling him the dark news. At that time we both agreed that Peter is too immature to care for a mammal.
But Jesus had spoken to husband, too.
"Honey", he told me, "I think we should give him another chance. And another and another and another.
I just cry. "Yes, Jesus told me the same thing."
Peter waits anxious as I hang up. "What did Daddy say?"
"You're Daddy is a good man, Peter. He loves you with grace, as your Heavenly Father loves you. He said it before me. I think he deserves another chance."
My boy smiles relief.
____________________________________________________
We all miss Harry. Sometimes we think we can hear his wheel running. We enter his room, see his empty cage, and the grief comes. He was just a pet, I know. We'd known him since November 4th.
He brought more life here.
And in the end, he brought grace.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
judgement
I've been thinking a lot about judgement this month. It's second nature to humans, isn't it? How many judgments of another person do you think we make in a day?
- "When will those boys aim better and stop peeing on the floor?"
- "Why can't the grown-up man in this house use the hamper that's sitting in the bathroom?"
- "That mailman is lazy!" He saw me coming from my house after he knocked at my door a few minutes earlier. Instead of reaching back into his vehicle to give me my packages, he just finished loading up the mailboxes and drove away. Now I have to take a trip to the post office to get my packages, per two orange notices placed in my mailbox.
- "Why would the checker put the Drano in the same bag as my food?"
- "Why would someone let their curious kid catch and keep thirty salamanders, just for fun? What about the ecosystem?"
- Why can't my kids be more grateful? Why do they complain every time they have to clean the playroom? Don't they know some kids live in tin homes with no address, far smaller than their cushy playroom?"
When we perceive another's judgement of us, how does it make us feel? Small, unsettled, physically sick, even guilty.
I used to follow a homeschool blog until one day, the author made a comment about the failing economy--passing judgement on the long-term unemployed. "Why don't people just get out there and do something else--something in a different field? Hard times call for innovation."
I wasn't angry, but I did stop reading the blog. There was no gratitude for what God had given her family. There was no acknowledgement that God gives talents as He sees fit--even the propensity for innovation. Some have many talents, some have a few, some have almost none. She failed to recognize that some circumstances lead to hopelessness, which is crippling in itself. Finally, there was the presumption that the long-term unemployed are just lazy.
But I wasn't angry, because I judge plenty also. Life experience is the ultimate heart softener, and this person was barely thirty. She was ignorant of her sin.
I often feel irritated at two particular people in my house for what I perceive to be ungratefulness. Glass-half empty describes the way these two look at life. They rarely count blessings; it grieves me, angers me, stretches my ability to look upon them with grace. They count hardships like King Midas counts money.
God is working with me regarding my irritation--trying to soften my heart toward these two house-mates. While counting blessings and looking on the bright side are good and right, they're also part of a natural bent--a personality characteristic. We should all do it--we will all benefit, but for some, it's an arduous, unnatural chore.
Here is the humbler: We don't get to choose our personalities. Some are more attractive than others, but not because the owner is more holy. Yes, we can, over time, polish our rough spots or hide them, but our gene-decided personality will keep fighting our efforts.
We are nothing without Christ.
Pride tells us we deserve some recognition--for making the right decisions, for being opportunistic, for being flexible when necessary, unyielding when necessary, prudent, long-suffering.....our list of accomplishments is long. Right?
We are nothing. He gives, blesses, takes away. Some are rich, some poor, some just get by. Some heat their attractive homes to seventy degrees in the winter, while others live in tin houses, fear for their children's lives daily, know ten-day hunger, drink pain and hopelessness away.
Why shouldn't we judge? Because we are nothing without Christ. And because judgement is puffed up pride.
It's painful to think about.....hard to understand.....but God allows inequality in his Upside-Down Kingdom. His graces and unfailing love are with the poor in spirit, but upward mobility and happy endings--which we're obsessed with--do not top his to-do list.
Unless, of course, Paradise is the happy ending you're talking about.
Adding to his Kingdom--reaping a harvest of souls for eternity? That tops his list.
- "When will those boys aim better and stop peeing on the floor?"
- "Why can't the grown-up man in this house use the hamper that's sitting in the bathroom?"
- "That mailman is lazy!" He saw me coming from my house after he knocked at my door a few minutes earlier. Instead of reaching back into his vehicle to give me my packages, he just finished loading up the mailboxes and drove away. Now I have to take a trip to the post office to get my packages, per two orange notices placed in my mailbox.
- "Why would the checker put the Drano in the same bag as my food?"
- "Why would someone let their curious kid catch and keep thirty salamanders, just for fun? What about the ecosystem?"
- Why can't my kids be more grateful? Why do they complain every time they have to clean the playroom? Don't they know some kids live in tin homes with no address, far smaller than their cushy playroom?"
When we perceive another's judgement of us, how does it make us feel? Small, unsettled, physically sick, even guilty.
I used to follow a homeschool blog until one day, the author made a comment about the failing economy--passing judgement on the long-term unemployed. "Why don't people just get out there and do something else--something in a different field? Hard times call for innovation."
I wasn't angry, but I did stop reading the blog. There was no gratitude for what God had given her family. There was no acknowledgement that God gives talents as He sees fit--even the propensity for innovation. Some have many talents, some have a few, some have almost none. She failed to recognize that some circumstances lead to hopelessness, which is crippling in itself. Finally, there was the presumption that the long-term unemployed are just lazy.
But I wasn't angry, because I judge plenty also. Life experience is the ultimate heart softener, and this person was barely thirty. She was ignorant of her sin.
I often feel irritated at two particular people in my house for what I perceive to be ungratefulness. Glass-half empty describes the way these two look at life. They rarely count blessings; it grieves me, angers me, stretches my ability to look upon them with grace. They count hardships like King Midas counts money.
God is working with me regarding my irritation--trying to soften my heart toward these two house-mates. While counting blessings and looking on the bright side are good and right, they're also part of a natural bent--a personality characteristic. We should all do it--we will all benefit, but for some, it's an arduous, unnatural chore.
Here is the humbler: We don't get to choose our personalities. Some are more attractive than others, but not because the owner is more holy. Yes, we can, over time, polish our rough spots or hide them, but our gene-decided personality will keep fighting our efforts.
We are nothing without Christ.
Pride tells us we deserve some recognition--for making the right decisions, for being opportunistic, for being flexible when necessary, unyielding when necessary, prudent, long-suffering.....our list of accomplishments is long. Right?
We are nothing. He gives, blesses, takes away. Some are rich, some poor, some just get by. Some heat their attractive homes to seventy degrees in the winter, while others live in tin houses, fear for their children's lives daily, know ten-day hunger, drink pain and hopelessness away.
Why shouldn't we judge? Because we are nothing without Christ. And because judgement is puffed up pride.
It's painful to think about.....hard to understand.....but God allows inequality in his Upside-Down Kingdom. His graces and unfailing love are with the poor in spirit, but upward mobility and happy endings--which we're obsessed with--do not top his to-do list.
Unless, of course, Paradise is the happy ending you're talking about.
Adding to his Kingdom--reaping a harvest of souls for eternity? That tops his list.
Friday, December 17, 2010
alternatives
Compelling reasons to make Christmas less commercial.
- We can give more to those in need--more Operation Christmas Child boxes, more money to the third world, more money to our local church (pastoral gift, other ministry gifts), more money to a single mom and her kids, more money/food to food pantries/shelters.
- With less shopping, we have more time to visit depressed people--in nursing homes, in hospitals, those suffering the loss of loved ones, those with no family around.
- We have more time to offer hospitality.
- We have more time to minister to our own family, without the rushing around, feeling stressed, and getting behind on daily tasks.
- Without the distraction of things, we have more of each other. We can dwell together intimately.
- Without the distraction of the buying, wrapping, etc., we can be still more, dwelling on the miracle of Christ's coming.
But if for your whole life, Christmas morning has meant the unwrapping of delightful surprises, all of these ideas sound too far off. Too hard, austere. Too kill-joy.
Instead of doing away with gifts entirely, how about a standard, reasonable number, so that preparing for Christmas morning doesn't overwhelm the schedule or the pocketbook?
Christ got three presents. How about starting there with your kids? Then, if you feel led, give less the next year, or stay with three. If you experience an economic slump, your kids won't feel as though one Christmas was better than another.
I know a pastor who gave his three children three gifts only every year--something for their music pursuits, something literary, and something for their sports pursuits.
With fewer or no gifts under the tree, you can perhaps plan a memory-making outing, such as a visit to a fancy theater to see the Nutcracker, followed by a leisurely dinner.
Or, you can target your buying to benefit the whole family, and create new traditions in the process. Why do gifts have to be individual? Would the family delight in a new board game to play every Christmas? Or a family gym membership for the snow months? Or a zoo or museum pass? Or a New Year's weekend away?
There is the personal, heart meaning of Christmas--Christ's coming and the hope that entails for a believer--and the collective, practical meaning of Christmas--expressing love toward others and experiencing togetherness.
For your individual family, the love and togetherness part requires simply having extra, leisurely time together--whether it be baking together, making a lovely holiday meal together, playing board games or charades together, or looking at family photo albums or slides together.
If we arrive at Christmas day exhausted and spent, the togetherness part--the memory-making part--doesn't go smoothly.
Instead of expending all your energy on searching for the right gifts for everyone on your list, how about planning for memory-making instead? Create traditions with your family that bind and bless and infuse laughter into your holiday.
Toys get broken, forgotten, or added to a huge toy box. And some, like electronic devices, even take our family members away from us.
Togetherness and tradition strengthen families by binding hearts. They're an investment in the future.
- We can give more to those in need--more Operation Christmas Child boxes, more money to the third world, more money to our local church (pastoral gift, other ministry gifts), more money to a single mom and her kids, more money/food to food pantries/shelters.
- With less shopping, we have more time to visit depressed people--in nursing homes, in hospitals, those suffering the loss of loved ones, those with no family around.
- We have more time to offer hospitality.
- We have more time to minister to our own family, without the rushing around, feeling stressed, and getting behind on daily tasks.
- Without the distraction of things, we have more of each other. We can dwell together intimately.
- Without the distraction of the buying, wrapping, etc., we can be still more, dwelling on the miracle of Christ's coming.
But if for your whole life, Christmas morning has meant the unwrapping of delightful surprises, all of these ideas sound too far off. Too hard, austere. Too kill-joy.
Instead of doing away with gifts entirely, how about a standard, reasonable number, so that preparing for Christmas morning doesn't overwhelm the schedule or the pocketbook?
Christ got three presents. How about starting there with your kids? Then, if you feel led, give less the next year, or stay with three. If you experience an economic slump, your kids won't feel as though one Christmas was better than another.
I know a pastor who gave his three children three gifts only every year--something for their music pursuits, something literary, and something for their sports pursuits.
With fewer or no gifts under the tree, you can perhaps plan a memory-making outing, such as a visit to a fancy theater to see the Nutcracker, followed by a leisurely dinner.
Or, you can target your buying to benefit the whole family, and create new traditions in the process. Why do gifts have to be individual? Would the family delight in a new board game to play every Christmas? Or a family gym membership for the snow months? Or a zoo or museum pass? Or a New Year's weekend away?
There is the personal, heart meaning of Christmas--Christ's coming and the hope that entails for a believer--and the collective, practical meaning of Christmas--expressing love toward others and experiencing togetherness.
For your individual family, the love and togetherness part requires simply having extra, leisurely time together--whether it be baking together, making a lovely holiday meal together, playing board games or charades together, or looking at family photo albums or slides together.
If we arrive at Christmas day exhausted and spent, the togetherness part--the memory-making part--doesn't go smoothly.
Instead of expending all your energy on searching for the right gifts for everyone on your list, how about planning for memory-making instead? Create traditions with your family that bind and bless and infuse laughter into your holiday.
Toys get broken, forgotten, or added to a huge toy box. And some, like electronic devices, even take our family members away from us.
Togetherness and tradition strengthen families by binding hearts. They're an investment in the future.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
point the way
Five plates sat on the counter, two pieces of bread each. Peanut butter and jelly ready to go.
And then, a diaper change.
A sibling fight.
Someone forgot to close the bathroom door and baby got all wet playing at the sink. I changed her.
Mary fell and needed some lovin' hugs.
Math problems needed explaining.
The dryer bell sounded and laundry needed shuffling.
Forty-five minutes later, on slightly hardened bread, I spread the peanut butter and jelly.
In the middle of it all, due to my own extreme hunger and frustration, I belted out a primal scream, shocking my offspring. I just wanted to get lunch on the table! How hard can it be!
A couple hours later, huddled in prayer with all my babes, I opened by asking God's forgiveness. The Holy Spirit is careful to impress this upon me, in the post-sin hours.
Confess. Let them see you confess.
I have an ugly secret. I can't stop sinning. I lose my focus. Taking my eyes off of Him, I promptly fall into the water, as Peter did.
They learn the ways of the Lord not through my good behavior, usually, but through my repentance. When I acknowledge that I need the Lord--that I am nothing without Him--they know what to do with their own sin.
Humble yourself before the Lord. Acknowledge, confess. Be filled with Him again. And again. And again.
We don't have to be great parents, or even good parents--whatever that may entail.
We simply have to point the way to Him.
And then, a diaper change.
A sibling fight.
Someone forgot to close the bathroom door and baby got all wet playing at the sink. I changed her.
Mary fell and needed some lovin' hugs.
Math problems needed explaining.
The dryer bell sounded and laundry needed shuffling.
Forty-five minutes later, on slightly hardened bread, I spread the peanut butter and jelly.
In the middle of it all, due to my own extreme hunger and frustration, I belted out a primal scream, shocking my offspring. I just wanted to get lunch on the table! How hard can it be!
A couple hours later, huddled in prayer with all my babes, I opened by asking God's forgiveness. The Holy Spirit is careful to impress this upon me, in the post-sin hours.
Confess. Let them see you confess.
I have an ugly secret. I can't stop sinning. I lose my focus. Taking my eyes off of Him, I promptly fall into the water, as Peter did.
They learn the ways of the Lord not through my good behavior, usually, but through my repentance. When I acknowledge that I need the Lord--that I am nothing without Him--they know what to do with their own sin.
Humble yourself before the Lord. Acknowledge, confess. Be filled with Him again. And again. And again.
We don't have to be great parents, or even good parents--whatever that may entail.
We simply have to point the way to Him.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
humility with gratitude on the side
I should be sweeping or folding or both, at this ungodly, 1:40 a.m. hour.
But instead, because I've already had an hour and a half of sleep with the baby--may I still call her baby, please?--I think I'll focus on what is right, good, and lovely. My house is none of those things, and that can make a person sour, sad, and sullen.
Some gratitude, including a humility story:
- My boys belting out this solo part in the car this morning, followed by four-year-old Mary doing the same:
I know, I know
What I stand for.
I know, I know
What I believe.
God's Holy Word
Will always lead my life
'Cause I don't want
My heart to be deceived
- Gift money from my mother and step-father, which I plan to use to get the boys their own large-print Bibles with covers, and Mary the Jesus Storybook Bible. They will get nothing else this Dec. 25th except for new mittens and peppermint candy in their stockings. We are moving on from Christmas toys and it feels so right! (It may not be right for you--not saying everyone should worship the same.) Now, they can follow along during devotions!
- I'm thankful that we still have Internet, because the other night I had all the ingredients in a bowl for a pumpkin pie, and then realized I was out of evaporated milk. Google came through for me, teaching me that you can substitute 2/3 cup nonfat dry milk mixed with 3/4 cup water.
- Heavy snow on evergreen trees. So beautiful!
- Heavy snow reminds that home is heavenly; our families are blessings.
- Sisters giggling in the tub
- Miss Beth so happy to see sister Mary's sweet face every morning.
- Poverty and having to receive gifts from family. So painful and humbling, and yet so stretching (in good ways). I know something about the hopelessness of poverty and I can use that knowledge to bless others someday, with no strings attached, no judgement involved.
Now for another lesson in humility: Four-year-old Mary, along with the other Christmas pageant children, sang one of the pageant songs in front of the congregation last Sunday. The actual pageant is this Sunday but they've been previewing a few songs. Mary loves to sway when she's up there along to the beat of the music. I mean a lot of swaying. She's eye-catching to say the least (ahem). Making herself a further spectacle to delight the audience and give the pastor a chance to make a funny, she laid right down on the stage as the song finished. Pastor joked that she was slain in the spirit over the experience. Ha! He's quick witted, eh?
Truth is she's probably too immature for such a long production. I'm now purposely clothing myself with a sense of humor, instead of my initial response--embarrassment and dismay. The blessing here is a lesson on parental pride. As much as it would be convenient for us, kids don't fit into neat little molds and it isn't their job to make us shine as parents.
My son Paul, for example, sings with all his heart, but not always on cue with the music. He and Peter have small solo singing parts that lead one of the songs (above). Sunday, he didn't start on cue with the music and they had to begin it again. At first I was dismayed. I worry about Paul. He's very much a head-in-the-clouds child (mild form of inattentive ADHD, but it doesn't need a label). He'll forget his underwear and put on his pants without it. You'll address him, even when close, and he'll be so absorbed he doesn't hear you. You'll ask him to put on his pajamas, set them down in front of him, and thirty minutes later, he's got no clue why you're irritated to see him still naked.
Anyhow, it took someone in the produce section of Walmart last Sunday to tell me what a good job my kids had done, to see the pageant experience for what it was: A chance for the Lord to use HIS precious children to send a message of hope and grace to all--especially to us self-absorbed, life-absorbed adults.. Shame on me for thinking it was about anything else. Very humbling.
But instead, because I've already had an hour and a half of sleep with the baby--may I still call her baby, please?--I think I'll focus on what is right, good, and lovely. My house is none of those things, and that can make a person sour, sad, and sullen.
Some gratitude, including a humility story:
- My boys belting out this solo part in the car this morning, followed by four-year-old Mary doing the same:
I know, I know
What I stand for.
I know, I know
What I believe.
God's Holy Word
Will always lead my life
'Cause I don't want
My heart to be deceived
- Gift money from my mother and step-father, which I plan to use to get the boys their own large-print Bibles with covers, and Mary the Jesus Storybook Bible. They will get nothing else this Dec. 25th except for new mittens and peppermint candy in their stockings. We are moving on from Christmas toys and it feels so right! (It may not be right for you--not saying everyone should worship the same.) Now, they can follow along during devotions!
- I'm thankful that we still have Internet, because the other night I had all the ingredients in a bowl for a pumpkin pie, and then realized I was out of evaporated milk. Google came through for me, teaching me that you can substitute 2/3 cup nonfat dry milk mixed with 3/4 cup water.
- Heavy snow on evergreen trees. So beautiful!
- Heavy snow reminds that home is heavenly; our families are blessings.
- Sisters giggling in the tub
- Miss Beth so happy to see sister Mary's sweet face every morning.
- Poverty and having to receive gifts from family. So painful and humbling, and yet so stretching (in good ways). I know something about the hopelessness of poverty and I can use that knowledge to bless others someday, with no strings attached, no judgement involved.
Now for another lesson in humility: Four-year-old Mary, along with the other Christmas pageant children, sang one of the pageant songs in front of the congregation last Sunday. The actual pageant is this Sunday but they've been previewing a few songs. Mary loves to sway when she's up there along to the beat of the music. I mean a lot of swaying. She's eye-catching to say the least (ahem). Making herself a further spectacle to delight the audience and give the pastor a chance to make a funny, she laid right down on the stage as the song finished. Pastor joked that she was slain in the spirit over the experience. Ha! He's quick witted, eh?
Truth is she's probably too immature for such a long production. I'm now purposely clothing myself with a sense of humor, instead of my initial response--embarrassment and dismay. The blessing here is a lesson on parental pride. As much as it would be convenient for us, kids don't fit into neat little molds and it isn't their job to make us shine as parents.
My son Paul, for example, sings with all his heart, but not always on cue with the music. He and Peter have small solo singing parts that lead one of the songs (above). Sunday, he didn't start on cue with the music and they had to begin it again. At first I was dismayed. I worry about Paul. He's very much a head-in-the-clouds child (mild form of inattentive ADHD, but it doesn't need a label). He'll forget his underwear and put on his pants without it. You'll address him, even when close, and he'll be so absorbed he doesn't hear you. You'll ask him to put on his pajamas, set them down in front of him, and thirty minutes later, he's got no clue why you're irritated to see him still naked.
Anyhow, it took someone in the produce section of Walmart last Sunday to tell me what a good job my kids had done, to see the pageant experience for what it was: A chance for the Lord to use HIS precious children to send a message of hope and grace to all--especially to us self-absorbed, life-absorbed adults.. Shame on me for thinking it was about anything else. Very humbling.
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