Still Here...

I've been working full-time as an in-home preschool/daycare provider since April 11. I remember this exhaustion and hard work, having done it once before, prior to the girls' births. Using your house as a place of business is an intense practice. There's no relaxing of standards, no leaving things out, no waiting for cleaning until you feel better, or are more rested. There's no going to bed with messy floors or carpets or stray laundry.

There's no sleeping in late, or even getting adequate sleep for that matter.

I care for 3- and 5-year-old siblings who are both handfuls in their own way. I'm struggling to love the 5-year-old, who is extremely strong-willed and snippy. "Please" and "thank you" are not in her vocabulary, and she uses put-downs and sarcasm. While she could never be called sweet, she is fun-loving and sometimes my girls enjoy her company. Often they yearn for the quieter time, before daycare, but at the same time they feel less stressed because we're more likely to make our bills each month.

My kids help a lot and I've taken to giving each of them an allowance.

There are positive things inherent in our new situation. One is that I do enjoy teaching and I'm doing more of that, with two new students on board. Much of what I've done with the preschoolers in science, my own girls have participated in albeit at a higher level. We've done a weather unit, a rainforest unit, and we're now learning about plants and pollinators.

Another positive aspect is that my children are gaining more leadership experience. They're also sharing their faith, their possessions, their food and their home.

The three-year-old has a lot of speech issues, but he's learning his letter sounds, nevertheless. Puzzles are his favorite activity. You might roll your eyes at this notion, but he has what appears to be OCD. He lines up his shoes just so, can't stand any messes, and cries to have his clothes changed when they get even a drop of water on them (for example, from washing his hands). I often feel no wetness anywhere on his clothes. I try to help him realize how dry his clothes really are, but he has fits about this and demands to be changed. There could be other explanations, but even the parents suspect OCD, though for the most part they don't discuss anything about their kids, possibly so as to keep their caregivers.

I have worked hard in the past few weeks to remember boundaries, in that these are not my kids and most of my energy must go to my own children and my husband. It's not my job to transform these kids. or correct what I might perceive to be parenting errors. I'm only making $4.30 an hour, and some goes to food (2 snacks, drinks and lunch) and a bigger portion goes to craft and art supplies. I also had to purchase from thrift stores more preschool toys, since I had given my own away.

Though working on boundaries, I'm still mindful of being a good employee and a loving mentor to them. I'm hugging these kids when they need it in the absence of their own parents, I'm praying for them, nursing their cuts and bruises, filling them with good stories, and reading character-training books in the mornings (from Proverbs this month), followed by daily prayer.

They come from a Catholic family and attend Mass, but they came to us with no concept of prayer, even at meals. The first time the 5 year old heard us pray before lunch, she said:

 "Why are you thanking God, when he didn't even make the sandwiches?"

Her comment made me so grateful that I've been home all these years to disciple my own children. Here was a five year old with little to no knowledge of God. It made me devastated for her and her little brother.

During the first month, she was snippy and irritated every time we prayed. Now, all these weeks later, she often adds requests to our morning prayer time. She looks forward to devotions!

God is using their time here in ways I'm probably unaware of--both for their benefit and ours. My job is to submit and be the Lord's servant. I trust His plan, even if it's exhausting, remembering that many Christians over the centuries have experienced physical exhaustion. What I'm experiencing is nothing novel, and I daresay it's keeping my body fit, being this active.

His promises me everything I need, and I believe Him.

I still want to count my blessing on this blog on a regular basis, but I'm realizing outside of that practice, I can't keep up here anymore. I've tried several times to write in the last 7 weeks, but each time something more pressing weighed on me. I was faithful to the people counting on me here. I need to shift my blogging to shorter blurbs, or give it up. If you're still around checking this blog, I thank you and I appreciate you.

Luke 21:19 Stand firm, and you will win life.

He Knows

He knows.

Do you ever think about that deeply, when life seems uncertain and scary?

I'm guilty of forgetting.

Sure, Bible verses comfort me. I always print a list of them when I'm feeling sad or overwhelmed or scared, and they definitely ground me. They're a regular part of my spiritual armor, but I still forget God's all-knowing, all-powerful, ever-present love.

Several weeks ago we noticed the carpet soaking in the hallway, so my handyman cousin came over to investigate. He tore open drywall and cabinets, attempting to locate the source of the water, to no avail. Finally, he suggested it was under the slab and would require a jack hammer, and us moving out of the house for a couple days. We prepared to hire a leak detection company to listen for water under the slab with specialized instruments.

Slab leaks can cost a couple thousand to several thousand, or more. As you can imagine, the news was devastating and scary. I was spending time I didn't have watching DIY plumbing videos, trying to find answers.

Meanwhile, the leak soaked towels day and night, and we couldn't find any pattern or trigger for the water, and mold was a real concern. The stress of it aggravated my son Peter's disorders.

Life felt heavy and miserable, but I tried to count my blessings anyway, rather pathetically coming up short.

Then, last night during family devotions the Holy Spirit really spoke to me. We were weighed down unnecessarily...by choice. Fretting is always a choice. 

Our entire lives are made up of choices. Good and bad things happen to all of us, everyday. In each case we have a choice as to how we will respond. The hallway plumbing leak was a spiritual test, as are so many things we go through as Christians.

We could either be devastated by the leak and the potential cost, and spend inordinate amounts of time trying to solve it, stressing each other out in the process, or we could go on with our God-ordained tasks, walking by faith with joy and humility, doing what was necessary regarding the leak, but nothing more. We could take it in stride as just another adventure as servants of Christ.

I'm sad to say we did not respond admirably, though some days we did better than others.

On the day I was waiting for a call back from the leak detection company--who wanted to charge nearly $400 for their detection services--I received help from the Holy Spirit, during family devotions as I stated above. I could feel the tension in everyone. We were grumpy, worried, and had trouble counting our blessings.

The Holy Spirit spoke to me, but this time not in a verse, so much as in a concept. God knows.

The Holy Spirit whispers the simplest things, but when given at the right time, they seem monumental. God knows?

Oh, yeah. Of course he does.

I let that knowledge soak in, and then I reminded the rest of the family that God knows. He knows the source of the leak. He knows what's in our bank account. He knows our days are already full. He knows we can't live with flowing water and mold in our hallway. He knows, and he works all things for our good.

He knows the outcome of every challenge, so we don't have to. We can just trust and obey, cause there's no other way to be happy in Jesus, then to trust and obey.

The need to know and to control the outcome is what drives our fretting.

After we realized that...the spiritual test was nearly over. We were a little late, but we got there. God knows.

Something miraculous--or so it seemed to us--happened after devotions that night. The kids began brushing teeth because it was now bedtime, and my husband, on a whim, went into one of the bathrooms and drew the water from the toilet tank with a large cup. He emptied it out as much as possible, and put a "do not use" sign on it. This idea, after weeks of consternation, and my cousin coming up empty after demolishing and investigating. My cousin is fairly knowledgeable, but not a certified plumber. He knew enough to buy a fixer upper home for cheap, to gut it, and start from scratch remodeling it. It's now a beautiful home with high-quality workmanship, so now the extended family always uses his expertise whenever possible.

Until I started watching DIY videos, I knew nothing about plumbing, and my husband knew the minimum. Still, the next morning we discovered that the leak had stopped. The towels laid on the hallway slab were dry, and the wet spots on the interior wall were slowly drying, allowing me to tackle the mold before we redid the drywall. We would still have to spend money changing out the toilet and redoing drywall, but the spiritual test was over and it didn't cost the bundle of cash we feared.

I feel both very relieved, and very foolish. A simple fix was somehow kept from our consciousness--and my cousin's--because God wasn't interested in our comfort or in our leak. He was interested in our hearts. He wanted us to be able to go through hard, scary, inconvenient things, and still praise Him, and still rejoice.

God's people all through history have gone through much harder things than a hallway leak. They've been held captive, ridiculed, persecuted, and killed. They've been afraid, overwhelmed, in pain, and in each case they did not immediately know the outcomes.

If we let go of our need to control the outcomes, we can concentrate better on having a godly response to our circumstances. A godly response is what brings God glory, and isn't that what we want as servants of God...to bring him glory?

Hard to accept isn't it, that God's not concerned about our comfort? Yes, hard, but I'm so glad he cares about my good, about my heart, about my usefulness, more than about my comfort.

Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me for making it about me. Thank you for showing me that I always have a choice in how I respond. Help me choose what is better. Give me a grateful heart...one that considers it pure joy when I face trials of many kinds. Help me to live for you and your glory.

In Your name, Amen.

James 1:12 Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.

Suffering and Surrender

My special-needs son put a huge hole in his wall today because OCD made him frustrated and angry and he just didn't know what to do with his angst.

Though he possesses expert knowledge about how to handle OCD thoughts--he could teach a class on it, in fact--he isn't ready to heed his own advice. The thoughts are too strong and controlling and scary and it just seem easier to do the rituals (not that holes in the wall are a ritual--that was anger at his plight in life).

The rituals, if continued, get worse and they steal away every moment, until there's no life left. Just pain.

It's like the self-aware drug addicts who know quitting will involve a long, painful withdrawal process, so they put it off. It just seems impossible to muster up the courage.

Only those with OCD can understand, and the rest of us just scratch our heads.

You mean you drove around the block ten times, looking for someone you ran over, even though you know you really didn't run anyone over? Yes, they try to explain. They have to be sure.

You mean you were an hour late to your next class because you washed your hands over and over in the student bathroom, in tears the whole time, knowing they weren't really dirty? Yes, they try to explain. They have to be sure.

You mean you can't go near children because you are afraid you are a pedophile, even though the whole idea is repulsive and evil to you, and you know you would never act in such a way? Or you won't go near the same sex because you are afraid you are gay, even though you are not attracted to the same sex, and you know deep down you are not gay? Yes...but I don't feel sure.

Yes, OCD sufferers do all these things and more (though my son doesn't have any of these obsessions, yet, and perhaps won't ever. But they are among the most common). OCD people are of average or above-average intelligence, and very sensitive, kind, gentle people. The things they find most repulsive or disturbing become their obsessions. It's a horrid, cruel brain disorder.

None of it makes one iota of sense and they know it, but they can't stop avoiding, or ritualizing, or going over and over things in their heads (ruminating is done instead of rituals, for some sufferers--called Pure-O OCD, meaning pure obsession, but no compulsions).

OCD is a disease of uncertainty. They can't handle any uncertainty and the battle to be sure of something becomes their downfall.

They have to learn to say..."Well, maybe I did run someone over. So what?"

"Maybe I really do love Satan..so what?"

"Maybe one of Satan's angels really is coming at me...so what?"

"Maybe I really will stab my husband with a knife...so what?"

"Maybe I really am gay,..so what?"

"Maybe I really am going to die (or throw up) (or a family member is going to die) from germs on my hands...so what?"

"Maybe I really did leave the burner on and the house is going to blow up...so what?"

They have to neutralize the thoughts so they can stop reacting to them, but even thinking of these neutralizing sentences fills them with horror and shame. They can't bring themselves to do it, so they get worse and keep reacting with flight or fight mode. Medication sometimes, for some of them, makes the thoughts less powerful, so they can begin to think about their therapy techniques.

In adolescence, when fear is very hard to fight for hormonal reasons, therapy is difficult at best.

Sufferers have to accept that there is a buzzing bee (bad thoughts) in the room with them. Accept is good, to fight or run or panic is bad. 

"The bad thought doesn't have anything to do with who I am. It's just a brain glitch."

While this statement sounds easy to us, it's terribly difficult for them to believe...even though they know it's true.

There is no cure for OCD and even when the vicious cycle gets broken, and they are leading normal lives again, there will always be, in times of stress, buzzing bees in the room that they have to continue to ignore to stay well. The minute they give in and do a ritual, they're possibly in trouble again.

Experts did a study and found that all people have similar thoughts occasionally, but our normal brains know right away to file the thoughts away as nonsense. We don't react to nonsense thoughts.

But the OCD sufferers? The thought-filter in their brain doesn't work. The thoughts come in with a DANGER sign..an ALERT sign. Their body reacts in flight or fight mode, with high adrenaline and fear, which are so powerful their brain compels them to do a crazy ritual, that for some reason temporarily decreases the anxiety. But the more rituals they do, the less the rituals work to decrease anxiety, and then a full-blown life-crisis exists. They can't fulfill their responsibilities on time or with ease because their rituals eat up the day and drive them insane.

Right now there is nothing I can do except pray and continue to counsel, until God see fit to heal my son or give him the courage he needs to absorb the discomfort of not doing a ritual, long enough to stop the chain reaction--obsession, anxiety, ritual, relief. Obsession, anxiety, ritual, relief.

Absorbing discomfort and pain is hard.

When I get a migraine, I take something for it because if I don't, I eventually have to lie very still in a dark room with no noise or interaction, and at some point I usually vomit, too.

What the OCD sufferer has to do to get better is stop taking the "medicine", so to speak (stop doing the ritual that temporarily relieves the anxiety). They have to, in essence, allow the throbbing headache and nausea to come, unhindered. They have to suffer to get better...and who wants to suffer? It's human nature to run kicking and screaming away from suffering.

God allows life to break us and that is so hard to fathom, isn't it? If you're broken, you know you're ready for heaven. Your mindset has ceased to be on earthly things and you just want to go Home.

Peter, husband, and I? We just want to see Jesus. The rest of the family isn't broken...yet. They have big plans.

And plans are good, but we can't ever assume we accomplish anything through our own intelligence or our own strength. The minute we gloat, God takes us down a peg or two. He allows suffering to refine us. To humble us. He works for our good, even when life seems like a big disaster.

I have to go to an AWANA meeting this Wednesday to become a Cubbies (preschool) leader. Oh, I tried to get out of it at first, but I prayed about it and then told the director that if she didn't get another Cubbies leader during the summer, than I would do it. I will be among three Cubbies leaders in a large class, taking turns with the various duties.

Do you know what I hoped? That God would realize my son's disorders are too taxing on me and my family, and that someone else could surely do it instead.

But God didn't agree. It's me who loves preschoolers, and me who loves teaching God's word.

If God wants me to work for Him with vigor and cheerfulness, why does he allow such sorrow in my life? I feel too weak and sorrowful today to even make that meeting, much less show up and do a good job at Cubbies on September 2nd.

Do you wonder these things, too? Do you want to crawl under a barrel and let everyone else--the ones with normal lives--do all the work for God?

Let me tell you a secret.

Surrender it all to God. Hopes, dreams, plans, ego, pride...the right to stay home and wallow.

And just show up.

Every single day, no matter how hard your trials are, just show up.

Show up to hug your boy--even though he's made you a wreck--to say you're so terribly sorry he's suffering, and that you'll be praying for him all day, and that Jesus loves him, and that he is fearfully and wonderfully made by a glorious God who knows every hair on his head.

Realize that it's the sin curse you're battling, not your son or daughter. 

If the problem is with your marriage, realize it's the sin curse you're battling, not your spouse.

God doesn't ask us to carry our own burdens. We attempt to carry them all the time, but it's sin--it's not obedience to his will.

If we show up, he is faithful to teach the Cubbies through us.

If we show up, he is faithful to give us the gentleness and patience we need to work with a sick or troubled child.

If we show up, he is faithful to give us a listening, quiet spirit to win our husband's love.

He will walk us through our hardest parenting days...our hardest marriage days...our hardest personal suffering days.

We don't have any answers--but he has them all. We don't have any insight--but he has it all planned out. We don't have any stamina or strength--but he's omnipotent and omniscient. 

Omnipotence means God is all-powerful. He has supreme power and no limitations. Omniscience means God is all-knowing. He knows everything--past, present, and future. There is nothing about which he's unaware.

So take that huge load off your back...whatever it is. Let your Heavenly Father soothe you and quiet you by his love. You don't have to understand. You just have to get filled up (prayer, Bible, worship), and show up, ready to be used for his glory. 

The more broken we are, the more desperately and humbly we go for our filling. The more filled we are, the more eagerly we show up to let him shine...knowing full well that on our own, we are nothing.

To live is Christ, to die is gain.

Zephaniah 3:17 The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.

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Messy Glory

Psalms 47:1 Clap your hands, all peoples! Shout to God with loud songs of joy!

Life is breathtakingly beautiful.

One minute my spirit aches profoundly, thinking OCD belongs in the pit of hell and when is God going to send my son's in that direction already?

Ten minutes later? A wild giggle rumpus ensues as I tickle my six-year-old silly during her reading lesson and she grabs my neck crazy and tells me she can't believe how much she loves me. And such gratitude fills my heart over mothering these magnificent children--reflections of His majesty, every one of them.

Messy glory.

An hour later the filth on the floor--the floor I just swept not 30 hours ago--brings my spirit down, because for the love of Pete the days are too short and the work too plentiful.

While I sweep sorry my son brings me two Compassion letters--one from Nelson pictured with his mother.

His artistry amazes us!

They bought 4 pairs of shoes, some sandals and 3 suits and he writes "I feel so happy to be writing you. I feel so thankful that you are my sponsor. Do you like animals that live in the water? I want to tell you about my favorite hobbies. I like to play soccer a lot. I like to listen to music. I have a pet; it is a dog called Lokio. I have a lot of fun playing with the puppy, and I feed him, too. I ask for your prayers that God will continue blessing us."

"That God will continue blessing us." An unspoiled child's gracious heart. Beautiful.

Nothing soars my spirit like a Compassion child's letter and suddenly I sweep with joy and dance with the broom to amuse my math-calculating girls seated at the table.

Followed by more wretched OCD and I wonder if my son will end up in a residential facility, for his school now takes double the time it ever did because of lengthy, consuming rituals while he reads, calculates, writes. Life passes him by--the minutes, hours, days stolen from him by a brain glitch he can't tame...yet.

I read, counsel, pray, trusting in God to redeem it all in a miracle of grace.

Later Mary reads her new beginning-reader Bible and the Spirit makes it all flow beautiful and you'd never know dyslexia existed and my heart and head jump for joy and her cheeks get showered with kisses and praise and my Rosie Posey glows.

Thirty minutes later she doesn't like the dark sky and plummets into depression and sorrow and fear and my own heart is cast down, only to soar when her brother brings in a toad to knock her happiness quotient into the clouds and my son has never looked more beautiful to me.

I praise God for devotions that cement us together in Him and my gratitude magnifies with each heart-felt prayer offered.

And He speaks to me, telling me that even if it never gets any better, it's still beautiful and he's still our King, our Redeemer, our Maker of all things wise and wonderful.

Life wouldn't be nearly so beautiful if it weren't so messy. The Spirit invites us to fight back with joy and open our hearts to Grace. Joy, invincible, squeezes Hope out of a vulnerable, aching humanity dearly loved by the Maker.

Romans 15:13 
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

How did joy catch you today, friends?

Modeling Humility for the Children

Today was a long, hard day characterized by non-stop deep-cleaning of the bedrooms. We take better care of common areas than we do the bedrooms, so it was time to take a snow day and get busy. I rarely give my children snow days or cold weather days as the local school district does, so there was no guilt in this decision, but I definitely wanted it done in one day.

Thus, the non-stop pace. Being a very goal-oriented person and knowing my kids don't do well with too much time off, I put a lot of pressure on myself to finish by evening, working hard from 10 AM on, only stopping to eat a sandwich while standing up.

We got all the junk out from under the beds and off surfaces and processed all the paper, dust, and unneeded stuff.

Boy that's a good feeling, and it makes the bedrooms easier to dust and vacuum in a snap.

The master bedroom was the worst; that's where stuff is stashed when I don't have time to process clutter before guests arrive. I was so ashamed of that room, yet there was never a chunk of time to tackle it.

The kids did a share of the work, then had free time while I finished up--free time that led to more messes. I tried hard to curb my growing irritation, but near dinner a headache pounded, so off we went to the pharmacy for my Imitrex, as well as to Little Ceasar's.

If you're a mom, you know what it's like. Sometimes you just have to stop everything and deal with clutter to get your sanity back. And when you've knocked yourself out and the rooms look smashing and ultra-organized, you probably expect some praise or at least a thank-you.

My kids were very grateful and full of praise, knowing how hard I worked. They went to bed in very nice looking rooms, happily. I'd even made special places for their stuffed animals, which thrilled them.

But hubby? It wasn't good. 

The pharmacy didn't have my prescription ready so we returned with me still sporting a pounder, already having tried the over-the-counters.

Hubby got home and went into the bedroom to get something. He paused more than usual, surveyed the room, and only came out to say, "Where are my CD's?"

Oh, man. That didn't go over too well for me. That room looked superb, after looking like trash for weeks, and that's all he has to say? Did he even have a clue how much paperwork and clutter I went through to thoroughly clean in there?

Exhausted and head-achy and mad, I could only think of how much he's becoming like his father. Mean-spirited, never praising, never appreciating anything...or so it seems.

In front of the kids I told him he's becoming just as mean as his dad and why couldn't he at least say the room looks nice?

When I'm mad he says nothing, always waiting for a calm wife to address anything that was said. He's amazing that way and I love him for it. Because of it, we aren't fighters. The Lord works on me, and him, separately, and then we move on easily, understanding each other without many words. I always apologize humbly for carelessly thrown words or wrong attitudes, and he always sees where he might be wrong, without me having to explain anything further.

As soon as the belittling comment left my lips I was horribly ashamed, but too shaken and exhausted to do anything about it just then. I went off by myself to finish the vacuuming while they ate pizza. Then, because I was still mad about being overworked and under-appreciated, I let loose some anger on the kids for their messes during the day, which still lay unattended.

So, that was my day. Productive yet shameful, and too much pressure on myself.

They're all in bed now and I'm just sitting here, feeling oh-so-humbled, analyzing it all in the quiet of the night.

I don't know what I would do without this time alone in the quiet of the night to process my day, my feelings, my shortcomings and my sins. It's a time to pray and process Scripture and listen to the Holy Spirit, before writing out what He wants from me.

My husband's love language is quality time and mine is affirming words, though these days I do fine as long as people aren't hurtful with their words; I no longer need much affirming, as long as there isn't a lot of criticizing.

Despite understanding love languages, I'm not very good about spending time with him and he's not very good about being appreciative or affirming. Somehow, the marriage grows in grace nevertheless, with the commitment unwavering. We need to be educated in love languages to understand where a spouse is coming from, but we don't learn new tricks easily.

My husband's father was a critical man who never praised his wife for anything, no matter how hard she worked at home. My husband is an improved version of his father--not generally critical, but he does take my work for granted most of the time, which I'm used to and handle fine on typical days. As he gets older I see more of his father in him and I wonder how I'll handle it.

I'm afraid to ask if he sees my mother in me, but he's spent very little time with her, so I think I'm safe for now, even though I must admit my temper to myself and to God.

That's got to be a pretty universal thing among spouses, I would think...or maybe it's just me. You think you're seeing the worst of your father-in-law in your husband. Or a husband sees the worst of his mother-in-law in his wife. Probably true, but probably exaggerated in our minds as well.

Some time ago I realized I would never become the perfect, submissive wife. My kids would never see in me the biblical model of womanhood...or at least not consistently. So I began to pray about my weaknesses in front of them. I wanted them to understand that marriage is about continually praying you'll get better. Better at respecting your husband. Better at loving your wife. Better at forgiving. Better at being kind to an overtired, overworked spouse. Better at turning the other cheek. Better at praying for the marriage, for the spouse, for one's own humility before God.

At the end of the day, the message is the same from the Holy Spirit. I don't have to be the perfect wife or mother. I just need to be a humble wife and mother who leads her children to Jesus by going ahead of them, to His loving, redeeming arms, asking yet again for His forgiveness and blessing.

In the morning during devotions with the kids, I'll apologize and confess my impatience and harsh words, and ask that the Lord make me a submissive, loving wife, and a kindly, gentle mother.

We can't be good, so we better be humble. Once we realize we'll never be good, we grow in grace.

Do you have days like that? When you try to please everyone, only to end up making a fool of yourself?

Missional Living and Fighting for Joy

Isaiah 43:18-19 “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

My father is in town visiting and staying with his sister, who lives in our township. I planned to have them over for dinner last night, serving a huge pot of potato soup and a large crockpot of navy bean with ham. It was all planned in my head, down to when I would do the soups and when I would tidy up, and when I would teach Friday lessons. 

But Beth started with a profusely running nose Thursday evening, and much more congestion than her allergies normally cause--a cold picked up from her Tuesday afternoon library program. The incubation period for a cold virus is almost always 48-54 hours, so it's never hard to think back to the source (not that it matters anyway).

My uncle is germ phobic, so instead we planned for me to bring the soups, including corn bread, salad, and ice cream and blueberries, over to my aunt's house, while my husband and me took turns staying home with Beth. My aunt is doing enough extra cooking with my dad and his young wife there, so I knew that at almost 70 years old, she was exhausted and could use a night off cooking. 

I had a 6 PM deadline to do all this cooking, and mostly everything was going smoothly, until Miss L. came over after school and said she just had to speak to me in private.

I went outside with her and proceeded to hear pretty horrible things about her mother's problems. Miss L. wanted advice. I have watched this girl bypass her childhood in the weeks since her grandmother died. She's a nervous wreck now, feeling responsible for her mother, and wondering how she can keep her mother from either committing suicide, or being killed by the boyfriend. 

I asked questions about who she and her brother could stay with in their extended family. There are two aunts nearby, and a great grandmother who is 70 years old, but no one gets involved in her mother's issues, possibly because Miss L and her brother are both handfuls and presumably no one in the family wants to have custody of them. That's all I can think of, as to why the extended family is not protecting these kids from their mother's ongoing dysfunction. The grandfather, with whom they live, now knows some of what is going on, but he has not kicked out the mother yet, and he has not brought in anyone to protect the kids during his second-shift work schedule.

I listened and counseled, but I don't think I helped her dilemma much. I counseled on how to protect herself, but I sensed she wanted me to help protect her mother. 

An enabler already, at 12 years old. Generational drug and alcohol abuse is ruining our nation, and as I speak with her I remember it's highly probable she will marry a drug or alcohol abuser, or become one herself, or both. So I try gently to explain what an enabler is, and how it never works to try to "fix" someone. We can't fix anyone; only God can.

But these are difficult things for a 12-year-old to hear, least of all a 12 year old who desperately wants to save her mother.

She had to go and check on her mother, so our conversation ended.

I went back into the house and soon my head began to pound with a migraine, brought on partially by all the heat in the kitchen as I prepared soups and cornbread, and fueled by all I had just heard and could do little about. My husband had to rush in and out of the shower after work, and go over to my aunt's with our food and non-sick kids, while I stayed home and nursed a migraine and loved on Beth.

I called child protective services about Miss L.'s situation, which was a weight on my mind, as much as I tried to remember the importance of establishing and maintaining boundaries while helping people. As much as I abhorred the act, it was time to involve CPS based upon the issues Miss L. brought up this time. I had asked her if she felt a foster home would be better for her and her brother. She doesn't want to leave her mother for fear of what her mother will do to herself.  "I can't leave her." 

Those are the words that echoed in my mind half the night in the wee hours. 

It was after 4 PM yesterday that I called CPS, so I could only relay what I knew to an after-hour staff member. On Monday I will be called by regular day staff for more information. And I was encouraged to call the sheriff for a welfare check on the kids, any time I felt the situation warranted.

Every child loves his or her mother. Even Miss L., who is driven crazy by her mother's poor choices, loves her mother dearly, even if she has to be her mother's parent. I don't know what will come of my calling CPS. I don't know what their limit is. How much does a child have to be suffering before they are removed from the home? Does it have to be physical pain only, and never emotional? 

There are physical things, too. The 8-year-old came last week, asking Peter not to tell anyone about how his mother shook him horribly because he spilled his milk and his sister cleaned it up with his favorite blanket, which made him throw a nasty fit. So his mother shook him violently, or enough to scare him and make him ashamed of her behavior, more than his own. Is that enough for CPS, even though we've never seen bruises, only facial cuts that could have resulted from a number of things?

It wasn't the shaking of the 8 year old that made me call, but that is evidence that the suffering is not only emotional.

These kids will be a difficult foster placement. Their minds will be even more troubled, their behavior even more problematic. Bonding with foster parents will be difficult, as it will feel like they are betraying their own mother, even as they both ache for normalcy and a functional home situation.

Am I supposed to be wrecked by their situation? Is that a holy feeling...being wrecked emotionally and mentally by other people's suffering? Are my own children supposed to know so young that some parents love their own dysfunction more than they love their kids? How can I teach compassion, while also teaching holiness? How can I teach "judge not" while also teaching responsible living? 

For kids saved before their teens, the idea of their own sin and how it makes them similar to all the other sinners of the world, is a difficult concept. Being saved early is good, but it doesn't make it easier to feel grateful for what God has done for you. 

Were we placed in a $43,000/year average income neighborhood merely so we could have an inexpensive home, enabling me to stay home with our kids? Or was there more to it? 

You can't do mission work very effectively without being present in the "field". God has placed us in the field, and we are reeling--I am reeling--at the cost. How much is it supposed to cost? How long will it be before I can do my part each day, and then move smoothly along with my own joy? 

Sin is ugly and the consequences are uglier and God is dangerous, as I read in this blog. This isn't so much a question of "how could God allow this?" God doesn't make people sin, and he doesn't smooth over sin either. Miss L. has lost her childhood as a result of her mother's sin, and God won't stop or freeze those consequences. He hates sin and demands righteousness and allows sinners to destroy themselves and their loved ones.

Isaiah 43:18-19 “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

This beautiful verse gives me hope. I remember that God makes all things new. I remember that Miss L. belongs to the Lord. She was fearfully and wonderfully made, and He has a plan for her life. I remember that my prayers are holy and they will be heard. I remember that as I help and am wrecked in the process, God is always there for me...to fill me up...to renew my joy...to work in my own children in the context of this neighborhood.

The answer isn't to wish we could give our children a healthier neighborhood, but to model how to be thankful for this one. 

It was after all this discourse with the Holy Spirit, that I finally fell asleep last night.

What about you? Are you wrecked as you help others? How do you fight for joy afterwards?

Finding Strength

 

Time to preach to myself, and maybe you want to come along?

Today ten-year-old Paul, three days into a cold, spiked a 103.2 fever. He did not take it like a trooper; he cried out wretchedly that he was dying, and that he'd never felt this terrible before. Surely, he surmised, I've contracted some terrible, fatal disease, to feel this poorly (too many missionary books this year, maybe?).

I've had experiences taking wretchedly sick children to the ER, only to have them perk up from pain relievers on the way to the hospital. So I debated what to do, but honestly, I was puzzled by that fever three days into a cold.

Beth, who is on an immunosuppressant drug, was the first to come down with this "cold", after a visit to the dentist last week. Even she didn't experience this level of discomfort; she had no fever at all.

So, yes, I was puzzled. I knew it was too late for flu, and that he didn't have a history of ear infection, and that the cough was more asthma-sounding than bronchitis-sounding. Maybe pneumonia? But what are the odds of that?

I debated back and forth and ending up taking him to the ER at 5:00 PM, after the fever was not brought down by ibuprofen. I added Tylenol before leaving, so by the time we arrived, the fever was lower grade. They found no secondary infections. The doctor concluded Paul's "suffering from some virus".. (Oh...you think so, Doc?).

New viruses come into the country all the time, he said.

So anyway...it was a gruelling parenting day, with emotions running high. Peter's OCD has been horrific, my Mary's fear of thunder and tornadoes has been very trying, what with our horribly dark and stormy weather the last three days.

Beth's arthritic ankle is very swollen, while both her arthritic knees look fairly good. Is the disease attacking the ankle with a new vengeance, or is this an auto-immune reaction to a virus?

Seriously, I felt like I didn't have a single normal child. They all have their issues and all of the issues stretch me. And I'm such a nervous person. Why would God choose me to mother children who obviously need a more emotionally-sturdy mother...one whose body doesn't respond to stress with migraines, and all-over body tension, and a faraway look in her eye?

Mary is eating less and just wants to sit with a blanket around her (sometimes completely over her) every time the skies look dark and stormy, and this is the third year of these behaviors. What can I do about such fear? I pray, I soothe, I cuddle, I coach. Nothing changes. She hid herself in her room because I mentioned taking Paul to the ER, and she didn't want a long van ride under stormy skies.

And my Peter, who has so much potential, so much energy, so much intelligence and passion, and yet on many days his OCD is so debilitating I don't know how he'll ever meet a grown-up goal. And the things that go through his mind are tragic. He's truly suffering and I don't know how to stop it.

I arrived at the ER after a 30-minute drive, most of it spent contemplating my children's issues. I felt so tense, so spent, hating my own weakness. I'm strong, but not strong enough. I persevere, but not without pain and doubt.

Tonight before writing this, I read this blog. And periodically, this blog is updated. Both women adopted children with special needs. With one child, the Reactive Attachment Disorder is so serious that even after a couple years, their new daughter can't experience love or bonding, and she's manipulative, conniving and volatile.

The other couple adopted many special-needs children, one of whom spent 15 years of her life in a crib at a horrible orphanage. She will never grow beyond the size of a six-year-old child, due to her diseased, neglected, malnourished, contracted bones. She had the physical skills of a three-month-old baby upon adoption.

So...what exactly am I lamenting about? Where is my strength? Where is my faith some days? Why am I considering myself and how hard it is for me?

I don't make these lifestyle contrasts to help myself feel more grateful, for gratitude shouldn't come through comparison, but from our awe at the New Covenant we have in Christ. I don't need thankfulness that's rooted in "at least I have it easier than they do."

It's the strength I'm thinking about here. I want more of it. More strength, more self-control, more long-suffering tendencies. I want to be able to assure the Lord, "Go ahead and make it as scary and as difficult as you want. Hold nothing back."

How do we get there? How did the adoptive families get there? How do they take on the responsibility of so many special-needs children...children who will exhaust them emotionally, physically, and financially, until the end of their lives? They will never be done. The children will never move out. Yes, the rewards will be glorious along the way--the Lord always writes glory into the story and it is beautiful--but that doesn't make the daily journey less gut-wrenching.

The difference between those parents and me? What is it?

They've learned to act in obedience and love without regard to the outcome.

Outcome is not their territory, but God's.

Tomorrow doesn't belong to them, but to God.

These children don't belong to them, but to God.

Success is not defined by them, but by God.

The strength doesn't come from them, but from God.

The love doesn't come from them, but from God.

The joy doesn't come from them, but from God.

The financial means don't come from them, but from God.

How can they do it?

 By taking themselves out of the equation and putting God at the helm.

By losing their life to save it.

By decreasing so He can increase.

By living as a slave, bought and paid for Jesus Christ himself. No longer a slave to sin, but to Christ.

It's so simple, and yet without saying yes to very difficult things, we never get there.

The meaning in our earthly lives stems from the answer to these questions: What is the Christian destined for? Why did God save us?

Charles Spurgeon teaches:

He saves us for “His name’s sake.” What does that mean? I think it means this: the name of God is His Person, His attributes, and His Nature. For His Nature’s sake, for His very attributes’ sake, He saved men and, perhaps, we may also include this—“My name is in Him”—that is, in Christ. He saves us for the sake of Christ, who is the name of God. And what does that mean? I think it means this: He saved them, first, that He might manifest His Nature. God is love, and He wanted to manifest it. He showed it when He made the sun, the moon, and the stars and scattered flowers over the green and laughing earth. He showed His love when He made the air balmy to the body and the sunshine cheering to the eye. He gives us warmth even in winter, by the clothing and by the fuel which He has stored in the heart of the earth, but He wanted to reveal Himself still more.

He wanted to manifest His nature? And His nature is love?  He wanted to reveal Himself?

God's will is to remove our own natures and replace them with His, so that as we become reflections of Christ, God is glorified through us. It is only in having our own natures removed, then, that we can fulfill our purpose.  So the next question is...at what point are we willing to give up our own natures? At what point are we ready to surrender fully to Christ?

When the suffering is so great, that we simply cannot bear it any longer. We are ready then.

That's why I don't have easy children. That's why some things don't improve. That's why I'm poorly equipped for the task before me. That's why the happiness is fleeting, but the joy is deep.
 

When Joy Won't Come

How are you, friends?

The oppressive, shivering winter has been dismissed by the grace of God, at last. There is much to celebrate; new sights, smells, delights. Sunshine, blue sky (not most days...this is still Ohio), and the promise of tulips soon.

I should feel exuberant, I've told myself, yet the last three days have been headache-infused; depression has been my unwelcome companion. Darkness attaches itself to me during on-going physical pain, or when my days are hormone-colored. Usually, these come as one package, creating an overall wretchedness (and a woman named Eve is my enemy).

For me, depression is hopelessness; a perception that the heaviness will never lighten; a sudden lack of energy and drive; an inability to look beyond the present or my own feelings.

Having to cut my mother out of my life has brought many depressing days, as I fight the guilt that inevitably plagues anyone who disowns a parent. I think I've made progress at times, but then someone will say something that brings the guilt and doubt rushing back into my psyche.

Alcoholism--any drug addiction--is the gift that just keeps on giving. Forgiveness isn't the hard thing. It's in trying to break every tie the dysfunction has to you; that is the difficult part. A dsyfunctional family past needn't define us, but neither can it be ignored as a negative force in our lives. Over and again, we have to lay it down before the Lord, asking for relief.

When I detect depression in my heart and mind, I am sure of one thing. Depression must be fought. It's a war--sometimes a spiritual war, sometimes a physical one.

In trying to find relief, I've come across some helpful Scriptures and interesting facts.

Moses, Elijah, David, and Job all dealt with some depression, as did Abraham Lincoln, who sometimes refused to carry a knife to protect himself from suicide. Glowing portraits of Abraham Lincoln usually leave out his profound melancholy. But, this formidable thorn in the flesh inspired him to greatness, as he leaned on the Lord for his strength.

Greatness is...what? What makes a person great?

I think we approach greatness when we've fought our battles with courage, whether the world is in on our story or not (there are many great unknown people with stories just as inspiring as Abe's).

When our choices have allowed God's glory to rest on us, we come to share in his glory. In human standards, that's greatness: we've forsaken our ego for God's, allowing his greatness to overshadow us. When we're willing to let it be about God, instead of about us, we become great.

Whatever our cross to bear is, we've not resorted to bitterness, but have leaned on the Counselor and surrendered our pain to God for his use. 

Some of us have monumental battles and others have smaller ones that feel no less enormous. With the Lord as our shield and our strength, we cannot be defeated. He who stands before us in glory, has already won the battle.

We fight with Scripture; it's a good time for a topical study, or many days in the Psalms. Delve in, read the verses aloud, pray them over your heart. Pray them with conviction and force, as though they're arrows destined for the enemy's Achilles heal. You may need medicine too in some cases, but that cannot replace the Scripture arsenal.

I have a few verses posted below, but this fine lady has posted many more, along with her story of panic disorder, depression, anxiety.

Psalm 43:5 – Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God.

Psalm 34:18, 19 – The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. (19) A righteous man may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all.

Psalm 55:22 – Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall

Psalm 62:5 – Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him.

Psalm 126:5 – Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy

Are you sometimes gripped by depression? What has worked for you in fighting the battle for joy?

Thankful Thursday 3/20

1 Timothy 6:12; "Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, to which you were also called..."

The Greek language reveals that this verse is not a suggestion, but a command. The command is to fight (the difficulty), and to lay hold on eternal life. We are not actually fighting anyone or anything involved in our difficulty, though it may seem like that. We actually fight Satan and his lies, his discouragement, and his manipulation. It isn't the cancer, the difficult boss or child, the poverty or the hopelessness that beat us. It's Satan.

But in Christ, we are assured victory. Maybe you didn't win today, but the big picture is one of glorious victory.

I know you've got something tough going on right now. We all do, and I tell you, we will win.

Galatians 6:9 "And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart."

Jeremiah 20:11

But the Lord is with me as a mighty terrible one:
therefore my persecutors shall stumble,
and they shall not prevail:
they shall be greatly ashamed;
for they shall not prosper:
their everlasting confusion shall never be forgotten.

1 Corinthians 15:57 But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Part of the victory lies in submitting to the will of the Father, in all things. Each prayer is a small victory. Each gratitude list is a small victory. Each song sung to the Father is a small victory. Each opening of the Word is a small victory.

Romans 12:12 Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.

Gratitude List

~ The promise of tulips coming soon.

~ An aspiring reader sounding out three-letter words.

~ A beginning reader stumbling only on a few sight words.

~ A chicken roasting in the oven.

~ Spring Mix steamable-bag vegetables (I love them so!).

~ A clean porch and yard, even if it did come about as a consequence.

~ Four loads of laundry folded.

~ Mostly caught up on laundry, ahead of Bible Study Saturday coming.

~ An old friend coming to Bible Study.

~ The Word of God as a balm to my weary soul.

~ We are assured victory!!

What are you thankful for today, friends?

The One Thing We All Have Going For Us

Today was the worst day and it was supposed to be a day for me to relax, finally, with a book in my hands. It was a Saturday off from Bible studies and no company was scheduled. My cleaning and laundry load would be lighter, I told myself, so I'll sit with a book and give my energizer-bunny self a rest.

But then the tiny screw fell out of Beth's glasses, so that meant a Walmart Vision center errand. And the snake disappeared from its cage, so when husband returned from work after lunch time, he obsessed about finding it and tore part of the house up.

So much for my relaxation.

I came home from Walmart to find pee spots in the playroom. Without my reminding him, Peter failed to take Rudy the Beagle out every hour, and the rule is that the dog can only be on carpet if he is watched closely. Later, Rudy will bark his needs better, but right now he is quiet, trying to get used to his new surroundings and new family and new routine.

I came unglued too, when I saw evidence that Peter pulled triple the amount of paper towels necessary to dry his hands. He absentmindedly does this, and it drives me crazy because paper towels are expensive and I purposely buy the type that section off to save money. Not to mention, there is usually a kitchen towel available for wiping hands only. People with OCD wash their hands daily more than most people do in several days, so his paper towel habit is a nightmare.

More things went wrong, and my world came crashing down. I felt completely overwhelmed with all the responsibilities and hassles, on a day when there were supposed to be few.

I didn't wake up this morning and announce to everyone that I really needed to relax. I just assumed it would happen.

I lectured my son and got mad at my husband, for they both share very similar characteristics that make my daily responsibilities heavy. And I get so weary sometimes.

Finally, my husband, in exasperation, shouted that they don't mean to annoy me. "I'm sorry we aren't as perfect as you'd like, but we do the best we can. We can't help it that concentrating on many details at once, the way you do, is impossible for us."

I felt terrible.

Why do I assume that lecturing is going to change anything about ADHD? Instead of snapping at all the pressure, why don't I remember why it's there? Why do I bother getting annoyed at something that can't be changed, any more than a polio victim can get up out of a wheelchair and suddenly walk?

My son began fearing, from all my ranting, that he was never going to make it in life. That he was just too stupid.

I felt terrible.

My brain just wanted to explode. Living with neurological disorders is so hard. So excruciatingly hard for everyone involved, but not for the same reasons. My son and husband have to acknowledge at some point that they are hard to live with, and that as much as they need grace from me, I need grace from them, too.

The wife of an ADHD husband does an awful lot of work, not because her husband is lazy or tries to get away with doing less, but because he gets overwhelmed easily and can handle few details. Looking for a snake, being in the midst of four kids with Mom away, and making sure a dog gets outside every hour, is too much detail.

I told myself, inwardly, that when I am away, the dog goes in his crate after being let out the last minute before I leave. Rudy doesn't mind it at all; most dogs see their crate as a quiet, secure place, as long as the confinement period is just a couple hours. They can hold their urine quite a while, but dogs neutered late (after one year; Rudy was six years) tend to mark territory with their urine, so you have to keep a close watch and make sure they use it all up outside, for they purposely hold some in to use for marking. God is amazing, the way he created each animal with so many complicated and specialized characteristics.

But having to make this adjustment when I leave the house? It was annoying. There are so many adjustments...so many bases to cover before I can leave the house. Pressure. Always pressure.

I am grateful for my family and for having the privilege of caring for them. I am grateful to have a Christian husband who works hard and has integrity. I truly am, but that doesn't keep me from melting down when the pressure mounts.

The mother of an ADHD boy puts up with a lot of annoying daily issues. She hopes for progress. She hopes for an easing of symptoms, if only she can help her son manage the disorder well enough, utilizing all known helps.

But at the end of the day, the brain is still disordered. Medicine is no cure. Good management techniques are no cure. The disorder won't go away. Ever.

You can use words like special instead of disordered, but the daily reality doesn't feel so special. You can spin it positively on your best days, but best days don't come often. Neurological disorders stink. No one wants them and they struggle daily to endure them, if truth be told. Every day they wake up and life is harder for them, no matter what they do differently.

And because it's a silent disorder, not a visual one, few people understand the deficits.

Sure, developing coping skills helps, but they manage the stress involved, far more than they change the condition itself.

Whenever I get overwhelmed with this, I make my son and husband feel like they're no good. I give them the impression that I am better, smarter, more capable. But the reality is, I'm crumbling in my own weaknesses. I don't think they can put themselves in my shoes, perhaps because it's painful to do so.

No one wants to face that they have deficits that unduly burden others. This is a very human reality, true for all of us, but not fun to acknowledge.

At the end of long, cantankerous days, my son, overwhelmed and dejected, wonders how he will make it.

And I wonder, silently, how his wife will make it, for I know what she's in for. I also know my son is sweet, gentle, smart, fun, and charming, and a wife he will have. Someone will come along and notice that he is not cocky, but humble. That life has molded and shaped him by its hard knocks, and he's better for them. He will stand out by his good heart and good looks, by his allegiance to God, and the silent disorder will go unnoticed during the courting period, as it did for me.

And when the courting period comes, I must remain silent about the disorder and let God work. All my mothering years must be used to pray for a solid, compassionate Christian wife for him...one who will kneel and pray for strength and grace, and give thanks for Peter's heart and humility, which please God.

Defeated and guilty, I responded to my son with the only truth I know.

"This has nothing to do with intelligence. You are very bright with many strengths. And you will make it in life, by the grace of God. In the end, Peter, we all have just one thing going for us."

"The grace of God."

"Look up to heavens and give thanks for it, cling to it, and spread it, for the glory of God."

If you know of a family dealing with neurological disorders, be it depression, ADHD, OCD, bipolar, Tourette's Syndrome, or autism...please pray for them? They may look put together on the outside, but truly, they need prayer for lifelong strength and grace...and their loved ones do too. Thank you.

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Comfort Bible Verses

Need comfort today? I sure do. Let's take a walk through the comfort verses.

Psalms 55:22 Cast your burden on the LORD, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.

Psalms 9:9 The LORD is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble

Psalms 27:4-5 One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in his temple. For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will lift me high upon a rock.

Psalms 46:1 God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

1 Peter 5:6-7 Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time: Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.

Psalms 56:8 You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?

Psalms 116:1-2 I love the LORD, because he has heard my voice and my pleas for mercy. Because he inclined his ear to me, therefore I will call on him as long as I live.

Nahum 1:7 The LORD is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; he knows those who take refuge in him.

John 14:16-18 And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever, even the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, for he dwells with you and will be in you.”I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you…”

John 14:26-27 But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.

May you receive His comfort in abundance today!


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Lessons From King Solomon

The rapid strep test last week was negative, but today they called to say that, yes, Peter has strep.

Stress.

The culture is more accurate than the rapid test. The rest of us have a 24% chance of contracting it, but still, I was in a hurry to get that antibiotic going, though Peter's body had healed on its own, as is usual for strep. In 24 hours the antibiotic takes care of contagious bacteria and keeps strep from spreading in the body and causing dangerous complications.

If my husband and I contract this illness, that's $50 out the window for doctor visits, plus the money for the medicine.

Stress.

Out we go to the van, headed for the pharmacy, to find the battery dead for the second time in a month.

Stress.

Peter's tics and OCD are causing him great stress, and in turn he's behaving poorly. I never know what causes these flares in symptoms, but I try very hard to keep the schedule routine. Maybe illness causes flares? Strep can cause a flare called PANDAS, which worsens mental disorders like tics and OCD. A flare is simplifying it, but you get the idea. This probably hasn't happened, but my son is sure miserable.

Stress.

Beth's speech is still not up to par, despite a year of speech therapy. My father, visiting yesterday, said he couldn't understand her. We understand everything, and no one complains at church or AWANA, but still, the idea that she's progressing so slowly?

Stress.

When things snowball like this, what can we do?

My first instinct is...stop everything and write a gratitude list. I know God will take care of all these stressful issues, and a gratitude list reminds me of His love and faithfulness. Yes, today is a bad day, but spiritual blessings spill over in my life and my heart is full. With the Lord, I am never alone and the answers never depend on my wisdom, but on His.

We finished the book of Matthew and are now reading 1 Kings for our morning devotions, and the boys are reading it additionally for school. I read the commentary aloud on the verses as well, which they don't have the discipline to do yet.

We learned how pleased God was when Solomon asked for wisdom.

1 Kings 3:7-14

⁷ “Now, Lord my God, you have made your servant king in place of my father David. But I am only a little child and do not know how to carry out my duties. ⁸ Your servant is here among the people you have chosen, a great people, too numerous to count or number. ⁹ So give your servant a discerning heart to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong. For who is able to govern this great people of yours?”
¹⁰ The Lord was pleased that Solomon had asked for this. ¹¹ So God said to him, “Since you have asked for this and not for long life or wealth for yourself, nor have asked for the death of your enemies but for discernment in administering justice, ¹² I will do what you have asked. I will give you a wise and discerning heart, so that there will never have been anyone like you, nor will there ever be. ¹³ Moreover, I will give you what you have not asked for—both wealth and honor—so that in your lifetime you will have no equal among kings. ¹⁴ And if you walk in obedience to me and keep my decrees and commands as David your father did, I will give you a long life.”

I know that instead of spending a long time researching batteries and the problem of Ford Winstar batteries going dead frequently, and reading countless hours about my son's mental disorders or about strep, or about speech articulation issues, I should first and foremost, ask God for wisdom. After God hears my prayer for wisdom, I can proceed freely through my day, knowing that my prayer was the most effective response to my day.

As my children's principal discipler (husband works 54 hours a week), I need to get this right. They need to see a healthy, knee-jerk, Solomon-inspired response to every stress incident.

Have stress? Pray.

Have stress, pray.

Have stress, pray. 

Have stress, pray.

Have stress, pray.

Prayer Time: Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for the abundant spiritual blessings in my life. Thank you for your sacrifice on the cross, for the open relationship it gives us with our Heavenly Father. Thank you for 1 Kings, and for Solomon's request for wisdom and what it teaches us about appropriate responses to life. We desire to please you and be instruments of your glory. Thank you for the stressful days and how they become object lessons in my discipleship efforts with my children. Thank you for Peter's mental disorders, and Paul's ever developing OCD, and Beth's arthritis and speech issues. Thank you that life is not easy. Thank you that I need you, desperately.We ask for wisdom and comfort, Lord.

In Jesus' name, Amen

Gratitude List:

~ residing in America where we can have devotions and worship the Lord in our home without fear

~ that my children love the Lord

~ that medicine has progressed enough to prevent dangerous complications

~ that God has a plan for every day, and a purpose for every issue in our lives, though he didn't cause them

~ prayer and how it softens children's hearts, and our hearts

~ a working washer and dryer, furnace, water heater, refrigerator

~ Compassion International

~ going to the consignment shop for snow boots for Paul, and finding a holiday sale, allowing two for one outfits. Beth now has 4 new Lands' End winter dresses, which are our favorites.

From the children

~ shelter and warmth

~ our clothes

~ our beds

~ siblings and parents

~ games (marbles, Rummikub, tiddly winks, Trouble, our Geography game)

~ our birthdays

~ pretty dresses

~ cakes (Beth's birthday is this Sunday)

~ food

~ friends

~  a good Momma who takes good care of me and loves me (from Mary--I promise I didn't bribe her to say this :)

What are you thankful for?

Cross references:

1. 1 Kings 3:7 : Nu 27:17; 1Ch 22:5; 29:1; Jer 1:6
2. 1 Kings 3:8 : S Dt 7:6
3. 1 Kings 3:8 : S Ge 12:2; 15:5; S 1Ch 27:23
4. 1 Kings 3:9 : S 2Sa 14:17; Jas 1:5
5. 1 Kings 3:9 : S Dt 1:16
6. 1 Kings 3:9 : 2Co 2:16
7. 1 Kings 3:11 : Jas 4:3
8. 1 Kings 3:11 : 1Ch 22:12
9. 1 Kings 3:12 : 1Jn 5:14-15
10. 1 Kings 3:12 : S 2Sa 14:20; 1Ki 4:29, 30, 31; 5:12; 10:23; Ecc 1:16
11. 1 Kings 3:13 : Mt 6:33; Eph 3:20
12. 1 Kings 3:13 : Pr 3:1-2, 16; 8:18
13. 1 Kings 3:13 : 1Ki 10:23; 2Ch 9:22; Ne 13:26
14. 1 Kings 3:14 : 1Ki 9:4; Ps 25:13; 101:2; 128:1; Pr 3:1-2, 16
15. 1 Kings 3:14 : Ps 61:6

In Which I Share My Worst Parenting Day

I don't know how to begin this post except to say: parenting is shockingly hard.

Bedtime's been a nightmare around here the past few months. The boys have always shared a room peacefully, but lately they play off each other in waves of mischief, sometimes lasting an hour.

Silliness at teeth brushing, scaring each other after lights out, throwing clothes, giggling. A whole slew of consequences haven't changed a thing, with Peter being the instigator most of the time, and Paul allowing himself to be led astray.

Just when Mom and Dad are feeling the most spent, comes the worst part of the day. These boys are old enough to be more sensitive to their parents' exhaustion.

Last night, after problems with neighbor kids just hours before, I was so. done. with. child. rearing. So beyond exasperated. Peter got the rare spanking, which he's really two years too old for. I didn't do it, I confess, because I thought it was the answer, but because in my exhaustion and exasperation, I wanted to punish him for the stress he causes night after night.

Whenever a spanking is given to punish, either consciously or subconsciously, it's never good parenting. It's broken parenting. Our aim as Christian parents is to shepherd, not punish. Punishing--outside of a civic, societal function--is about getting back at someone, not redirecting them toward righteousness.

A calmly-given spanking can be part of good parenting, I do believe, but I wasn't calm (don't worry though--there's not a mark on him).

After all were asleep, I was heartbroken and empty. I wanted real answers, not just grace. I knew if I sat down and recited the 23rd Psalm and prayed, and quietly let the Holy Spirit minister to me, I would recover.

But I wanted more than recovery...I wanted all the trouble to disappear. I wanted beautiful nights of parenting, executed as gracefully as an expert ballet performance. A true art form.

My husband is gone 12 hours a day Monday through Friday, and 6 hours on Saturday, which leaves me with a full-to-the-brim load. The lower your income is the more hours you need to work (and sometimes the higher your income and responsibility, the more you need to work).

With the homeschooling, the chores, the various disorders represented here, and the neighbors who congregate here by the threes after 3:30 PM, while I'm trying to put school supplies away, switch laundry, do dishes, and make dinner...well, it's too much.

My kids behave better when they play with just each other, so in the healing time last night, as I asked for real answers, it came to me that it was quite reasonable to limit the neighbor childrens' visits to just the weekend, when my husband is available to watch everyone outside. He loves the outdoors anyway, and with perimenopausal upheaval happening to me when I least expect it, I simply can't pack my days as full as before, and maintain the same level of sanity.

Being in the middle of this, I'd say it's probably easier to go through menopause when your kids are young, verses when they're teens and in upheaval themselves. One of the blessings to having kids later in life?

I suspect so.

My boys tend to rush through their afternoon school to be done in time for the neighbor children's inevitable knocks. Yesterday I had Lexie insist she wanted to hang around our yard while we finished school. She even went into our shed, making herself at home with Peter's pet snake, and later staring into our window, checking on our progress. I felt so invaded and the kids couldn't concentrate; the boys made terrible spelling errors.

We had an ADHD/OCD pediatrician appointment, and a library stop, both of which slowed us down and made school go later.

Lexie went on to entice my six year old into a tree that was way too large for her to handle, prompting me to send all the kids home. It took me telling Lexie four times before she would leave the yard. I was terribly exasperated, but I also had compassion on her mom, because if she's this bad over here, she's far worse at home.

It occurred to me, too, that as a parent I would never send my children to the same house day after day, expecting the mom there to watch her own kids as well as mine. That's just rude and yet these parents have done it for over a year, never checking on their own kids or asking if I mind the nearly-daily invasion.

I don't allow my children to visit neighbors' yards or houses, in fact, because I think a parent-extended invitation is important, and because there are no Christian parents on this street anyway.

The Holy Spirit brought other solutions to my mind, too, such as putting one boy in the master bedroom until both are asleep, and the one can be carried back to his own bed. It's not ideal, but it should help. Also, Peter will be given time to read in bed to help him relax and stay out of mischief, and he'll be allowed to sleep later in the morning to compensate.

Today has gone far better so far, even with speech appointments interrupting us again.

During morning devotions I read aloud some commentary on our Matthew passage:

Commentary from Life Application Study Bible on Matthew 13:8, pg 1674:

This parable should encourage spiritual "sowers"-- those who teach, preach, and lead others. The farmer sowed good seed, but not all the seed sprouted, and even the plants that grew had varying yields. Don't be discouraged if you do not always see results as you faithfully teach the Word. Belief cannot be forced to follow a mathematical formula (i.e., a 4:1 ratio of seeds planted to seeds sprouted). Rather, it is a miracle of God's Holy Spirit as he uses your words to lead others to him.

I choked up reading this, on the morning after my hardest day. Children, in other words, will not necessarily show fruit in direct proportion to our evangelism and discipleship efforts--neither our own children or the neighbor children. But our words do matter. Our obedience matters.

It may seem to me that my boys should be more sensitive to Mom's and Dad's feelings at their ages, but God is working through the Word, and through our discipleship, nevertheless. Our home may not be spilling with spiritual fruit right now, but I believe every passage we read, everything we teach, everything we model (yikes!), will shape their hearts for life.

So often with parenting, the rewards come later. So often as Christians, in fact, the rewards come later. It's hard to labor day after day, knowing the rewards are far removed.

But in the meantime there is grace. There's wisdom freely given to the prayer warrior.

There's a quiet Savior whose yoke is easy and whose burden is light, who quiets me by his love.

Zephaniah 3:17 The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.
Romans 8:37-39 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

So, how was your parenting day?