Holiday Gatherings and Redeeming Family Dysfunction

Thanksgiving's just past and if you spent time with family, chances are some raw pain resurfaced.

My father, 74, is on his fifth wife. He flew in from Vegas to spend five and a half days in Ohio, accompanied by his 17- and 19-year-old daughters from his fourth marriage.

Yes, my family is complicated. 

I have 1 full-blood sibling, a sister two years my senior, residing in Oregon, whom I haven't seen in 9 years. I also have 5 half-siblings: 1 from my mom's second marriage, a brother with whom I grew up but haven't seen in 9 years; 2 from my father's third marriage, a brother and sister with whom I've had little contact in the past 2 decades; and 2 from my father's fourth marriage, both sisters, with whom I've had little contact in the last 8 years.

If your own family is more complicated than that, surely you deserve a hug. 

Here is it: Squeeze

While my father and two half-sisters were here in Ohio we saw them once, which was today, despite not seeing my dad in the last 4 years. He has a sister and a brother still living, and nieces and nephews who live here too, all of whom he spent time with. Today, however, my dad and sisters came for lunch and my dad paid little attention to my children, who are at times desperate for a grandparent's love. My half sisters, very sweet-spirited, loved on my children, thank goodness.

A grandparent, like a parent, must be sacrificial to fill a child's love cup. Children are precious and lively, but playing their board games is not always fun. Spending time with them just because it would bless them and not because it promises to be fun, is what we all hope for in grandparents for our children.

Grandparents don't bless with their money, although some try that. Really, they bless with their time.

Love is a verb and an investment...with no reciprocal promise. It's a risk and a sacrifice because it involves time and heart and saying no to other possibly more attractive choices. My heart aches for someone to come along and decide that my children are a worthwhile investment--because Jesus asked us to love as he did. Sacrificially.

My children are not perfect, being a tad too bouncy, but they're sweet and fun. They'll almost always sit still for games and art and stories. There are ways, if someone's interested, to curb their bounciness.

Each time my mother comes (her husband, my step-father, stays home in Oregon when she visits), or my father appears, my hopes for my kids are dashed. My mother and my father both, on visits here, put my kids last, after fun activities with their siblings, such as going out to dinner, shopping, visits to neighboring states, etc.

The most intimidating people to me are always those with seemingly perfect upbringings. People who were seriously invested in, intimidate me because they have so much going for them. It's not a jealousy thing so much as an inferiority complex.

Somehow--and I don't quite understand it--our self-esteem suffers for a lifetime when our parents make dysfunctional choices during our upbringings and beyond. I guess our minds think...if someone was invested in, then they must be worthwhile, right? If we, in contrast, weren't invested in enough, our minds assume we weren't worthy of anyone's time or heart. 

It's all subconscious thinking, however, so it's hard to combat.

We usually manage to forgive our parents or guardians, if necessary, sometime in our thirties, but this doesn't mean their past and present choices cease to hurt us.

In our thirties we usually have children of our own; we have an inkling about how hard parenting is. Aware of our own mistakes, we're more capable of forgiving our parents' mistakes. We may know what perfect parenting sounds like and looks like, but in our humanness, we can't achieve it. We never will.

So our love for our own imperfect parents becomes a sacrificial love...a forgiving love. We love them not because they deserve it, but because Jesus loved us when we didn't deserve it. We love them in Jesus' name.

I'm not fond of my dad. I hate his dysfunction, which even at the age of 74, persists. But when he came today, frail and slow-moving because of a past stroke and kidneys working at just under 30%, I had to forgive him, even as he failed to love my children right before my eyes. When the old get older and weaker, we manage a deeper layer of forgiveness as we witness their decline.

When parents can't love as we wish, we can do little about it, except what Jesus does with our imperfect love for Him. He keeps on forgiving, keeps on loving, with no reciprocal promise.

Tonight, I hope all of us with familial pain and disappointment choose love. The best way to redeem the past is to love more. Dysfunction comes from too little love, too little sacrifice, too little forgiveness.

We can do better for our own children, burying for good dysfunctional patterns of old in our family line--not achieving perfection, but progress. For example, we can stay married, despite the trying times. We can be sacrificial and choose not what we want, but what will bless. 

Reminder to self: You want to build a legacy of love, so live like it.

~ Every day, choose love. It is a choice.

~ Every day, ask for the Lord's counsel and comfort, knowing earthly love, from anyone, is not enough.

~ Every day, say no to your desires and yes to your children's hearts.

~ Every day, look upon your mate graciously, remembering that when you choose to love him, you are also loving your children, who need him and want him, and need you to love him.

~ Every day, speak to your children of their Heavenly Father's love--always perfect, always enough.

~ Every day, get on your knees, praying your children's way through, and your way through.

~ Every day, pick yourself up when you fail and get back on the horse, because tomorrow is a new day.

A new chance to say yes to love, and yes to a godly legacy.

God's Adventurer

I'm 42 pages into another missionary book, called God's Adventurer, about Hudson Taylor, missionary to China.

I have the Sonlight Homeschool program to thank for my new interest in missionary books. We bought several this year as part of the Eastern Hemisphere studies, and I picked up a few more from the prolific Benge series, Christian Heroes Then and Now.

Each new missionary book tugs at my heart a little more, pulling me into a place of deeper faith and greater reliance on God. This deeper faith swirls in my heart, eager to be set free, compelling me to ask, "What can I do for you, God? How can I grow your Kingdom?"

It's confusing, this stirring within me. Most missionaries either have missionary college degrees, or some other strong recommendation or training. I only have my faith to offer, and my imperfect love.

On a spiritual gifts inventory 10 years ago, faith was one of my top five gifts, but an inventory last summer revealed that on faith I got the highest score possible for any single gift. What does this mean, and what can I do for God?

In the current book, God's Adventurer, about Hudson Taylor, an entire chapter was devoted to how this young man tested God in the months before leaving for China. Hudson wanted to learn to rely entirely on God for everything, so he refused to accept any start money from his parents, or from the missionary organization he signed with.

There were several instances covered in the first chapter in which Hudson found himself in dire straights financially, and once with his health. He prayed each time, knowing God would provide.

He was required to obtain medical training before leaving for China, and during the training period he lived quite poorly, physically speaking. Once he gave an entire half crown piece to a family who was starving, even though it was the only money Hudson had, and back at his rented room, he had only enough oatmeal for two more meals, after which he would be destitute and starving himself.

He found it very hard to give up the coin from his pocket. Several times he wished it could be split up, giving some to the starving family, and keeping some for himself, to last until his physician's assistant payday.

But God didn't give him any other option; he had to give it all.

As soon as it was out of pocket, young Hudson felt joyous and free. While fingering it over and over in his pocket, he'd felt wretched, in contrast.

In a euphoric state of mind, he walked back to his room, marveling at how wonderful it feels to depend on God for everything.

Still, waking the next morning and eating his second to last meal? It was hard. He knew that if God didn't provide by the end of the day, he would go hungry the next day.

Once again, he prayed with faith.

In the middle of his oatmeal, the landlady brought him a letter, surprising him, because he never got mail on Mondays. He opened it and a coin dropped on his table, enough to last him until payday. He had no idea who it was from, so he rightly assumed God sent it.

I can't wait to finish this book. I can't wait to marvel at the creative, seemingly impossible ways God provides. He worked another miracle in our own lives just today--one that will grow my children's faith, particularly. The more we pray and rely on him for every single thing, the more he delivers, along with new challenges to grow our faith.

The coin in Hudson Taylor's pocket, the one he fingered nervously for so long, was a symbol for every Christian. The minute we give up what we think we desperately need, spiritual blessings flow. The "coin" is different for every Christian, but in truth we all hold something back from God.

Tight-fisted, we limit what God can and will do, for us and through us.

He wants to free us. He wants us to walk in joy, but first we must open our hands and let go.

Are the Poor Lazy?

In order for our hearts to develop a religion that is "pure and undefiled", we have to let go of prejudice. In dealing with some neighbors over the past 14 months, I've been so challenged in my thinking. Slowly, God has dealt with my self-righteous, ill-conceived thoughts by interjecting an article here and there, and speaking to me personally from Scripture.

My heart took issue with my neighbors' cigarette smoking habit, their spending habits, their lack of gratitude, their habit of sending uncomfortable children over to beg for milk, sugar, bandaids, eggs, cash, etc., rather than coming themselves. Not to mention the idea of them burning children's paperback books I sent over, for whatever crazy reason.

I didn't consciously think I was better than them, but deep in my heart, that was my sin.

Scripture tells us that our hearts are deceitful, and yet deep down we stubbornly think this means other people, not us. When we're confronted with the truth, which is inevitable if we're in the Word, the next step is bending low, declaring: "Yes, God. You're right. My heart is vile and deceitful. Please change me."

Compassion must scream loudly from the heart of a Christian. How compassionate we are speaks of how grateful we are. It speaks of how thoroughly we understand our position before God. The Beatitudes tell us "Blessed are the poor in spirit." The poor in spirit understand their position before God. They freely admit they are bankrupt, devoid of anything redeeming, outside of the indwelling Holy Spirit bought by the blood of the Cross.

I invite you to take this journey with me. This poverty-of-spirit journey to help us fully understand what God has done for us.

Here is an article that will change your heart regarding the poor. It will explain why the poor make such seemingly stupid decisions, like buying cigarettes for themselves, rather than ensuring enough milk for their children. It will challenge your thoughts about how hard the poor work. In truth they often work very hard, rarely resting, the hope of even a mini-vacation a cruel joke. You'll understand more fully why compassion must be our middle name.

Before you click, let me say that not all the observations in the article are about the author's life. She draws from her own experiences, and the experiences of people she knows. It's raw, with a few F bombs, but please, click. More money in her life is not the answer. Christ, and his true Hope, are the answer. Joy comes not from enough comfort, convenience, or money. It comes from the indwelling Holy Spirit, who gives us joy regardless of our circumstances. Pray that for her, and pray that God removes the blinders from our eyes, so that we can do the compassionate, heart-changing work he desires of us.

We can't just read such an article and say, "Wow, that's sad." It has to change us...give us a pure and undefiled religion that compels us to live for Christ, so that hope can be planted in desperate hearts.

Poverty is the absence of hope, as the article will demonstrate. We can't obliterate poverty, for the Bible says we will always have the poor. But hopefully not the abject poor. Their numbers are dwindling, but they're is much work left to do. As our hearts purify, their numbers will reduce further. As we let go of our prejudices, so will their bellies let go of hunger.

“So wickedly, devilishly false is that common objection, ‘They are poor, only because they are idle’.” ~ John Wesley (The year 1753)

Testimony of God's Faithfulness

I've been blessed in my Christian walk whenever someone has given testimony of God's faithfulness. These testimonies are valuable, and yet sometimes it's hard to discern whether a faith incident should remain in secret or not. Scripture tells us to give in secret, to pray in secret, so we don't draw attention to ourselves as a Pharisee would do.

Yet, when the Lord has challenged me to do something out of faith, it's the Old Testament stories and the testimonies of other Christians that have helped me decide, "Yes, God. I will do it!"

So here's a testimony:

Our usual experience with Operation Christmas Child has been more of contributing to boxes packed at AWANA, which is a smaller financial commitment then packing one of your own. This year we are in a different AWANA and the Operation Christmas Child emphasis was more a "pack your own box with your family" commitment.

This was quite a challenge to us, and at first we felt burdened. But as AWANA day approached and it was time to fill a box, we had a wonderful time as a family. Truly a pleasure, from start to finish, as has been praying for the 5- to 9-year-old-boy we filled a shoebox for.

When the bill at the cash register came close to $45, my husband and I exchanged glances and gulped. "Wow, God. That was expensive."

But we believed, and we told our children we believed. The transaction left us with $50 to last until payday, and not enough groceries to stretch us until payday. Still, we knew God's math is not like the world's math.

We told the children that when your plans are for the Kingdom, God would provide. When your plans are for yourself, this is not necessarily so. Thus, when discerning what to do, decide what you are truly working for...your own advancement, or God's?

Exactly three days later, $100 came in the mail from a friend whose family struggles to make ends meet. I was stunned, and definitely wasn't sure that accepting it was the right thing to do. I walked around the house with the bill in hand, confused and conflicted, at first not remembering our shoebox price tag.

I asked her..."Are you and your husband sure about this?"

Do you know what she wrote back?

"Oh, yes. We are very sure it came directly from Command Control." This she wrote with a smiley face. (Command Control of course, meaning God).

Then it hit me. It really was from Command Control, just like our pull to fill the shoebox in faith was from Command Control.

We needed milk; I try to make sure the children drink 3 glasses a day, which is a hefty financial commitment. While I expected God to provide for groceries, I didn't expect Him to provide more than double the cash register total for the shoebox.

Amazing. That's what God is. That's what His math and His heart and His radical grace is. Amazing.

When we step out in faith, God has far more opportunity to prove He's amazing. When we give testimony of his faithfulness, his Glory reaches more hearts, changes more lives, creates more occasions of glory, growing God's Kingdom.

God doesn't need our help. But he wants it.

He created us to bring Him glory (and to fellowship with him).

Please, share your own testimony of God's faithfulness?

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Mom's Survival Guide: Cold & Flu Season

I've spent a stressful couple nights with my cold-virus suffering four-year-old daughter, who also happens to be on an immuno-suppressant drug, and boy did it bring back memories. Some years when all my children were little, it seemed like we went from one cold to another, with week-long breaks in between. The nights were grueling, with more than one child up coughing, and croup a frequent visitor for Peter, up until he reached 6 years old.

I learned that many different cold viruses lead to croup for susceptible children, that some cold viruses lead to suspicious rashes in the younger set, and some lead to harmless fever. Some viruses are more likely to bring on sinus infections and bronchitis and ear infections, though 90% of these end up viral, against which antibiotics are worthless.

I finally learned to stay away from doctor's offices unless fevers had gone on too long (more than 3 days), or unless there were breathing difficulties, or the child became listless and acted seriously sick. Visiting the doctor in the winter just invites more viruses to your home; the more children you have with you, the more likely this is.

I'm experienced enough now to say that 80% of doctor's visits for colds and related infections are unnecessary, especially if you breastfeed. I wish someone had told me this in the beginning, because I actually brought my first baby to the doctor at 7 months old, just because he had his first cold virus, and some baby book said to take a baby to the doctor if it's a first cold.

What? Who writes these things?

The doctor treated me like an idiot because my baby had only minor cold symptoms, and I had no other complaints. This is the same pediatrician who later on answered my question about how long to feed baby rice cereal with this snarky remark: "I don't care if you feed him Frosted Flakes for breakfast."

Okay, so my baby was 12 months by then, but still.

Last night for the second night, Beth suffered a low-grade fever, and she had discharge from her eyes all day. "Just shoot me if this is pinkeye, God. I never want to deal with that again."

New last night was an hour of restless itching everywhere on her body, during which I panicked, wondering what kind of strange cold virus brings on itching. "Could it be meningitis, God?" She went to the world-famous ophthalmologist last Monday, who sees patients from many different countries. I wondered if a foreign family unwittingly deposited strange germs in the waiting room.

It's amazing what exhaustion can do to a mother. Today there's no itching, no fever, she's active, and the eye discharge was obviously just part of a nightmare cold virus that brings profuse leaking--nose and eyes.

Tips for Mom's sanity during the winter:

~ I can't prove this, but love works. Drop everything and hold the sick ones. Pray over them and kiss their foreheads. Read them stories, tissue box in hand, and watch movies with them. They will always remember that Mommy was the best, most attentive Mommy when they were sick. These memories will cover over a multitude of your mothering sins.

~ Yes, the house will get very, very cluttered during sick weeks. After being up half the night, you will be tempted to say up another half-night to set the house to rights. Don't. They will need you again when the post-nasal drip brings on a terrible coughing spell, so sleep when you can.

~ Make easy dinners, even if you just had spaghetti two nights ago. If you order take-out, you'll just bring home more cold viruses.

~ Before cold and flu season hits, stock up on supplies. Buy multiple tissue boxes laced with lotion, and multiple generic bottles of ibuprofen and acetaminophen, but don't medicate a mild fever during the day. It's a natural part of immune system function. At your weekly library visits, check out movies that will keep them lying down for a couple hours, and buy liquids they will drink, even if you normally wouldn't choose them.

~ If your husband helps, great, but don't fight with him if he doesn't do the dishes himself, even though you haven't slept in four nights. Consider this: if your husband stays up late to help, and then gets sick himself, he will miss work and drive you more crazy than your sick kids. Just sayin'.

~ They're a cruel parenting joke, these cold viruses. You worry yourself to a tizzy and watch your sick child's labored breathing through the night, only to wake up to a chipper, happy, snot-faced child who doesn't understand why Mommy is cranky and tired. Colds are always worse at night, so never decide in the middle of the night if a doctor's visit is warranted, unless you have a young infant and you suspect RSV or other form of bronchiolitis.

~ As soon as your child feels well again, you'll be sick as a dog with a horribly messy house and no relief in sight. Life will seem incredibly grueling and you might just cry, because you were so worn down when you caught the cold, that a sinus infection comes quickly, leaving you begging for mercy.

This too shall pass. Before you know it, your youngest will be almost five and you'll feel like crying because there are no babies left. No soft cheeks to caress and kiss. No bare, sweet bottoms to laugh at as they toddle down the hall, giggling and running away from you at bathtime. No sweet-smelling babies to lie against your elevated chest in the middle of the scary, exhausted nights.

These snot-nosed days are the best years of your life.

Let it all go, Momma. The house, that perfectionist bent, that pride over your multi-tasking skills. If you're in cold and flu season and your house looks great, you're choosing the wrong thing. 

With Love,
From a Momma who's been there

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