A Tween Already: Where Did the Years Go?

Do you know how it all started? Armpit smell. Little did I know how parenting would change.


Yes, in late fall, 2010, my son began to smell, at not quite nine years old.


And that was it for another year. Just the smell, which hygiene training easily handled. Life continued. My young boy still acted like a little boy--rough and tumble and well, boyish. Little boyish.


Then earlier this fall, he started taking a shower in the morning sometimes, as well as at night--they're all dirty at night--because that's what adults do, he said. He picked out his own clothes each morning and they always matched. Actual thought went into his ensembles. Not too much thought, as in I-need-the-latest-Nikes kind of sentiment. Just a new consciousness.


A few weeks ago, before Sunday church, he put on a smart looking outfit, saying to me: "This looks nice, doesn't it, Mommy? I want to look handsome for my church friend."


My heart smiled and my mind exploded. Ahhhhhhhh! Help!


The following week we stopped at the drinking fountain at our church. Suddenly, two girls come out of the bathroom, both from my boys' children's church class. My seven year old, kind of shy, looked away instead of at the girls.


But my nine year old?


"Hi Emma. Hi Jennifer. I'll see you in class.".


Spoken like the quarterback of the football team. Smooth as silk. Confident.


And following that encounter, he donned a big, big smile.


I looked at my husband, incredulous. Um, what just happened there?


The following week, he's up till 10:30 PM talking to me--sad that Emma may not be interested in him.  He tells me Emma doesn't listen or behave in class and that bothers him. The less pretty one, Jennifer, does listen, and maybe he should stay away from Emma and befriend Jennifer? He knows, instinctively, that Jennifer is the nicer one. 


The whole time, I'm crying out to the Lord. It seems I just nursed this boy to sleep last week, Lord. How did we get here so fast, and what do I do?


"Son, the nicer one is always better than the pretty one. And the Lord can make a nice girl beautiful to you. He's that powerful and mighty. But Peter, you can't get married until you have the money to provide food, an apartment, and other things for your wife. So isn't it early to feel this strongly about girls?"


He agreed and seemed remorseful. And conflicted.


I don't think he can help any of this. Hormones are circulating, beyond his control. This is as new and confusing to him as it is to me. 


Last night, coming home from AWANA, he glowed with a dreamy smile. (AWANA is at a different church.) I had prayed for all the teachers and students before dropping my crew off. 


"I had the best time ever, Mommy. The Lord answered your prayer. I wish I could see Alyssa every day."


This morning, I learn that Alyssa, a long-time friend from this church--a family we know fairly well--said this to my son:


"I told my parents I have a crush on you."


The look in my eye floored him, I guess. My son got tears in his eyes. His lips trembled.


"Does this mean I can't be friends with her?"


"Do you know what a crush means, Peter?" I sensed that he didn't, but he instinctively knew it was complementary.


"No."


"It means she likes you and thinks you look nice. Yes, you can be friends with her, but you're never to be alone with her. Adults must always be around."


I resolved to pray about volunteering at AWANA.


I hugged his conflicted, confused self.


He still loves his Momma. He's happy to hold my hand in public. He still sports milk mustaches. He's a tween--half little boy, half teen. It's a brilliant word. His tenth birthday comes in a couple months.


Still shocked, I headed to the computer to look up Christian tween parenting books. I know nothing. We must disciple him well, so he can choose a godly wife and love her sacrificially, gracefully. These years are a training ground. And yet, how to slow him down?


We do not believe in dating, or in letting young people be alone. We prefer our children hang out with friends in our own home--while we observe, evaluate, train, disciple. If the parent-child relationship remains strong and intimate--something homeschooling facilitates--we believe children will be receptive to this arrangement.


I found Faithfully Parenting Tweens, A Family Resource Book, by John R. Bucka, but there was only one review. Any ideas? 

Only One Thing Matters: My Blessing List

I have to admit that since Beth's arthritis diagnosis, there are fewer minutes my mind settles on blessings, and more minutes it settles on how much there is to do, both in terms of comforting and being the face of Jesus for her, and in terms of physically caring for my family--food prep, clean-up, groceries, laundry, paperwork, baths. When there is chronic pain for a child, mixed with good and bad days, you can never anticipate when dinner will be ready, or how much laundry you'll shuffle. Cuddles and songs come first.

Life feels a little sadder and it's hard to divert the mind from memories of days past--days when running and climbing were effortless. Days when my child looked and felt perfectly normal and got out of bed running. When I get into a picture file, I'm bombarded with older images of a healthy, happy-as-a-lark child.

It smarts.

But I'm not blind. I see the brokenness in the world.

A friend tells me she caught her young son looking at nasty images on the computer. I read that 70% of middle school children have viewed such images. Shocking. Unthinkable. What kind of husbands and fathers will these children make some day? Where will society be without self-sacrificing, committed fathers, capable of real love?

My cousin, I learned, not only has to have a double mastectomy for breast cancer, but her tumors are both large and last year her mammogram looked perfectly normal. This must be the most aggressive form of breast cancer? Will she die in a few years? Will it be in her lymph nodes? How is her young teen son taking the news and does he understand what could happen? They have no spiritual truth--no divine strength to draw from.

Some economists predict a 50% unemployment rate, as the economy corrects from the massive housing bubble and other mishaps.

El Salvador, where a Compassion child, Nelson, resides, is facing loss of homes and crops from flooding and landslides.

And the list goes on.

So I understand how richly I'm blessed, even as I shed tears over old photos.

I need--my daughter needs--only one thing. The Almighty, living God.

Keeping my eyes on Him, I know the rest can't shake me.

So today, I am grateful for....

... my Father, who comforts and sustains me.

...my Jesus, who saves and redeems me.

...my Counselor, who guides and answers me.

...my Lord, who rules me.

And I'm grateful for a believing husband who is a rock, even as he hurts, and for my children who know the power and faithfulness of God.

And I'm grateful for you, readers. Thank you for sharing your mothering journeys, your God journeys, with me. Thank you for your prayers and love.

Tree climbing frightens my nervous-Nelly self. I'm grateful none of our yard trees are conducive. These photos depict highly supervised climbs on a park tree.

The Prayer Warrior Life: Family Prayer Jar

In writing to a homeschooling friend recently, I requested prayer for healing of Miss Beth's juvenile arthritis. Later that day, I read this from her:

"I am so sorry!  We put her name and request in our prayer jar, so we'll be praying for her a lot."

A prayer jar?  Immediately, I thought of the possibilities for our own family prayer time. We had been using prayer journals, but enthusiasm waned lately, trying my patience and dampening my discipleship spirit.


We must be steadfast in our discipling, not letting housekeeping, cooking or laundry, or outside activities get in the way. Discipling our children isn't a "should do". Rather, it's a "must do".


Deuteronomy 11:19
Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.


Deuteronomy 4:9
Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them.


Deuteronomy 4:10
Remember the day you stood before the LORD your God at Horeb, when he said to me, "Assemble the people before me to hear my words so that they may learn to revere me as long as they live in the land and may teach them to their children.


Psalm 78:4
We will not hide them from their children; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power, and the wonders he has done.


When something isn't working for you and your family, seek new methods. Change things, shake things up a bit, whenever enthusiasm wanes. My friend's e-mail was a gift to me, from my Father, who seeks to help me in whatever tasks He gives me. 


I am never alone. Never without the gift of my Father working through me. I am simply His instrument.


Advantages of a Prayer Jar


- It's portable.


- Children like picking prayers out--the anticipation is exciting to them.


- It's a visual reminder of how often you're praying. When the jar is still full and it's Wednesday, you know you need to reevaluate your priorities.


- Children can write the prayers on slips of paper themselves. Invented, or developmental spelling, is just fine. Don't be fussy about mechanics when your child is writing out something for the prayer jar.


- It takes just a few minutes to write one out, so as new requests come in, you'll be able to keep up with them (especially with children helping).


- You can keep a separate jar for answered prayer, reminding you and your family that prayer works. 


- If you start on a Sunday, begin putting the prayed for slips aside, so you can see how far you've come throughout the week. Put them all back in the following Sunday.


- You can break the prayer into chunks of time younger children can handle. For example, one prayer each in the morning, one each at lunch, one each at dinner or bedtime. Or, for older children, three prayers each at bedtime, making for a longer prayer time so that attention span grows over time.


- If you're really type A, you can color code them for your convenience. For example, blue strips of paper for shorter prayers, for shorter people. :) 


Another example: different colors for praises, for thanksgiving, for confession, for relatives or friends, for healing, etc. 


There you have it. The family prayer jar. Ready, set, go!


photo credit

To read more of my prayer journey, check out Into a Life of Prayer: A Journey Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

To read even more, check out The Prayer Warrior Life part 1; part 2; part 3; part 4; part 5, part 6, Part 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

A sweet friend, Amy, wrote guests posts for us, telling of her prayer journey: Vol. 1, and Vol. 2, and Vol. 3, Vol. 4, Vol. 5

Caldecott Medal Monday, 1968: Drummer Hoff

Drummer Hoff, Adapted by Barbara Emberley, Illustrations by Ed Emberley

A chicken in the oven and sweet potatoes needing peeling means this will be a fast one, literary friends. But not devoid of fun, by any means!

Ed Emberley won the 1968 Caldecott Medal for the illustrations in Drummer Hoff--Barbara Emberley's adaption of a cumulative folk song featuring seven soldiers building a fancy cannon. The illustrations are bold and colorful and very unique. This artist would never be featured on my walls, but I can surely appreciate his work in a picture book.

The folk song itself is entertaining and fun and useful. Grab lots of repetitive rhyming books if you have babies, preschoolers or early readers in your home. These books help students learn to rhyme--a crucial pre-reading, auditory-discrimination skill that's more mysterious than we parents think. I've had many children over the years ask me if bat and ball rhyme--maybe not this exact example, but this general misconception, that rhyme refers to things that go together, not things that sound the same at the end.

Learning rhyme is as easy as hearing tons of rhyming books and nursery rhymes. It isn't something you actually teach; you expose them to it consistently during early-childhood years, and they get it--usually by early to late kindergarten, depending on how much exposure they've had. I taught in a low-income neighborhood, and it was never a given that my first graders would have this mastered. Poverty means, sometimes, no car to get to the library, and no value placed on books as a family experience.

Cumulative (Drummer Hoff), repetitive (The Little Red Hen, The Gingerbread Man), and rhyming books also help motivate preschoolers and early readers. Language learning should never be a chore. It should be a loving, fun-filled part of every childhood.

Your kids will recite Drummer Hoff for days after a reading, and you'll never tire of it. It will just make you smile.

Since it's a folk song that's been generating for years, I can type it for you here.

Drummer Hoff fired it off.


Private Parriage brought the carriage, 
but Drummer Hoff fired it off.


Corporal Farrell brought the barrel.
but Drummer Hoff fired it off.

And on and on until it looks like this at the end:

General Border 
gave the order,
Major Scott
brought the shot,
Captain Bammer
brought the rammer,
Sergeant Chowder
brought the powder,
Corporal Farrell
brought the barrel,
Private Parriage
brought the carriage,
but Drummer Hoff fired it off.


Hint for you homeschoolers: There are great sound-family spelling lessons hidden in here for older students.




We also have this Ed Emberely book, Go Away Big Green Monster, (teaches colors) which my kids all love. As you turn each page, more and more of a silly monster is revealed. Then, as you keep turning them, all his features go away, one by one. Great fun!




I haven't seen this one yet, but I'm sure it's silly-nilly good!

Only God Changes Hearts

Reading between the lines, some of you may have guessed my husband to be the less enthusiastic Compassion supporter. You would be correct. 


When months of underemployment turn to years, it becomes harder for a man to have hope and faith, especially while negotiating two to three different part-time jobs, which make for long, stressful days. My observation is that no one works harder than the underemployed; they scramble for a living, often seven days a week. Only recently has my husband had a full day off (Sunday). Come snow time though, he will be responsible for salting & snow removal for a church parking lot on Sunday mornings; his 30-hour part-time position is with a church.


So for these many months, I think he's been more frustrated by my Compassion passion, then anything else. Our being unable to sponsor anyone, in his mind, seemed like just another failure. Driving old cars we could barely keep going, praying for our meals and gas money....all the details made our circumstances seem desperate at times--though that was just our flesh, not reality. God has always been there. Faithful.


Several times I've come close to sponsoring a child without my husband's consent. Shameful, yes. 


I never even asked him if we could sponsor. The conversation never came up, because I've known his state of mind too well. Divya and Raphael, as I've mentioned, are both correspondent children; we are not their sponsors.


Thankfully, each time I felt tempted to click on a "sponsor me" button, the Holy Spirit stopped me. It wasn't out of defiance I felt these urges to click, but out of a desperate desire to help those whose circumstances are far worse than ours. For the first time in my life, I knew something of what they felt. 


Hopeless, marked, not good enough.


Yesterday, reading the post about the number of children who've waited so long, my desperation returned. My boys were over my shoulder as I checked the Compassion page featuring all the children--86 when we first looked at it--who'd waited six months or longer for a sponsor. I could see the compassion pouring from my boys' young hearts. How they wanted to click those "sponsor me" buttons as well.


We thought of all the groceries we could give up that would amount to $38. Money saved is money earned, I told them. It wasn't easy and some negotiation ensued, but Peter, Paul, Mary, and Momma each thought of one grocery item we could give up twice a month.


My husband works half day on Saturdays, so he wasn't around for these negotiations.


We continued to check the Compassion website every half hour, watching the number of children go up and down. Peter and Paul watched the children's pictures change position. I explained that as more children qualify for the longest-waiting list, the number goes up. As people sponsor them, the number goes down. It fluctuated, but we rejoiced each time it went down. Peter marveled at the Christians who obeyed God and sponsored.


I began to feel guilty. What right had we to even think about sponsoring? Was my husband going to be mad at me? Should I just tell the children to pray for others to keep sponsoring? Convicted, I decided to say nothing to my husband about our negotiated and reduced grocery bill.


We continued to watch the website though, and when Daddy returned, Peter, ever the talker, told him all about our day. Daddy listened, saying nothing.


We all went to a park for a couple hours, to help Beth with her physical therapy goals. Later, chores and a grocery run.


The busiest hours of the day having arrived, we stopped checking the list.


Until bedtime. One last check.


Peter said something about Nelson, whose picture he'd been watching. I clicked on the "learn more" button at the bottom of Nelson's picture. El Salvador. Seven years old. Loves soccer. Single mom--a laborer. Two children in the home. No father mentioned. 


It was the no father that got me the most. My boys too. My hand wanted to click. The boys' hands wanted to click. 


I picked up the phone, calling the automated phone teller to check our balance. I knew it was low. 


Meanwhile, Daddy asked why everyone abandoned him. We had gone to brush teeth initially, and then planned to return to the playroom for another bedtime story.


We just wanted to check the list one more time. Quickly.


Peter responded to Daddy. "Mommy's doing something. We'll be right there."


In a lower voice, to me, Peter said, "I didn't tell him what you're doing." 


Oh, the guilt at that comment! Was I teaching them to go behind their Daddy's back? Shame on me.  How conflicted I was...pulled in two powerful positions.


I got off the phone, dejected. $68 dollars to last for gas and miscellaneous for the next four days. 


No way, I told the kids. Daddy needs gas money.


Peter returned to the playroom, telling Daddy we wanted to sponsor a boy, but we couldn't because we only have $68.


I expected anger and resentment. After all, this wasn't exactly the proper way to decide these things. I felt convicted.


"I need about $50 for gas", husband said. "We'll do it on faith."


Rejoicing, we ran back to the computer, wondering if Nelson's picture was still there. It shifted positions, but we found it easily. Five minutes later, Nelson joined our family, leaving some of us in tears over Daddy's tender, faith-filled heart. 





And we couldn't be happier. For Nelson...for Daddy. They needed each other desperately.


Bitterness, once rampant in my man's heart, turned to compassion, through the power of God. I've never loved my husband more, nor my Savior.


Only God changes hearts.