As end of school busyness ramps up to a frenzied pace, it’s hard to imagine that the lazier, slower days of summer are just a few weeks away. One of my New Year’s Resolutions was to be more intentional in my parenting, and I’m looking forward to the slower pace of summer to implement that resolution even more deliberately. I find it is sometimes so easy to get caught up in the activity of life as my children and I run from one event or task to the next that taking the time to mindfully consider the goals I want to create or the character traits that I want to cultivate in my children get lost in the shuffle of everyday living. This summer my goal is to create an environment of intentionality in my parenting that hopefully fosters a culture of education, where I continue to model for my children that learning is both a lifestyle and a lifelong endeavor.
It’s that time of year again: time to reflect on the past and look ahead to the future. New Year’s Day, while it should be brimming with expectation, is often wrought with self-evaluation and melancholy reveries of what might have been. This past year has been lovely, yet tough: tough in a we moved two years ago and opened a brand new business and are hanging on by a thread financially tough. Yet, lovely, remarkable, even, in what my husband and I have learned about our God, ourselves, and each other through the struggle.
Every year, my husband, kids, and I draw up a list of resolutions, practical goals, we believe that will improve us in some way: read four books a month, walk three times a week, fight with my brother less (we are still waiting on this one to take effect.) For me, resolution setting also involves a great deal of prayer, and every year, I expect God to simply speak into existence my resolution. For instance, help me get fitter, and voila, I wake up fitter, or help me be a better steward of my money, and voila, I am within the budget every month. This past year has taught me more than any other that God doesn’t transform that way. I know, I’m a stubborn one, and though, I’ve known this to be true my entire life, I still pray that I will somehow be transformed into the woman of my dreams overnight, weird quirks- gone, extra weight- gone, bad habits- done. James 1: 2-4 says, Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. And Romans 5:1-4 states, Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. It seems that while God could clearly transform me in an instant, He is big on process because He is more concerned with our holiness and character than our comfort.
I’ve always been a bold pray-er. After this past year, though, I’m not going to lie; I may have called into question my boldness because God has been faithful in answering in unanticipated ways. While it may not be the way I would have hoped He would answer, looking back, I see that prayers I have been praying for years have been answered this year in mighty ways. Yet, they’ve all been answered through trial, and you know what, I would not trade one minute of the trial for the results. Easy and comfortable produce arrogance and self-dependnece while struggle and trial produce humility and dependence on God. I’ll take the second every time.
Help Me Be More Humble
God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. James 4:6. I’ve never considered myself an arrogant person, but the past few years have revealed to me that the stock I place in my accomplishments, the praise I crave for a job well done, the desire to do it all and all by myself are glaring symptoms of pride. Recently, I heard 1 John 2: 16-17: For everything in the world- the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, the pride in one’s lifestyle- comes not from the Father but from the world. The world and its desires pass away, but whoever does the will of God lives forever. I’ve probably heard or read this verse one thousand times, but this time conviction at the phrase “pride in one’s lifestyle” fell on me like an anvil. I often feel a sense of pride when I look at what I’ve been able to accomplish in life, especially my academic or career achievements, as if I created my gifts and talents myself.
This past year, my daughter was diagnosed with Social Anxiety Disorder and ADHD. Our journey has been a long, difficult one that has often taken an emotional and spiritual toll on Travis, A, C, and me. (More about this on a later post) In context of this past year, though, God has opened my eyes to how I don’t have all the answers, I’m not a perfect parent, and I don’t have to be. While I strive to keep everything looking like Mary Poppins runs our household, there are times that I am barely keeping it together. My children don’t always behave in the way I’d like. I don’t always know how to help my baby girl respond to the crushing anxiety she experiences on a regular basis, and that’s ok. Through His grace, God has used our situation to humble me into complete dependence on Him. Where I am weak, He is strong. Where I can’t take it another minute, He steps in and shoulders the load. When I am foolish in understanding, He gives wisdom. When I get overwhelmed and want to give up, He gives me the endurance to keep going. Walking with my girl through this has shown both A and me God’s faithfulness and how His power is truly perfected in our humble weakness.
Help Me Be a Better Steward of My Finances
I’ve been praying this one for years. I just always felt this nagging sense that I tend to overspend, usually in the form of therapy. Y’all, I get a thrill from purchasing seasonal scented Method household cleaner, even though I have three bottles under my sink from last year. I tend to believe if I buy a cute sweater, it will somehow make me look like I’ve magically achieved the body of my dreams, but just like all the other sweaters, it’s about what’s underneath that keeps me frowning at the image in the mirror. God calls us to be good caretakers of all with which He has so generously blessed us.
Two years ago, we moved to Nashville to open a new business. For anyone who’s ever opened a new business, you can feel my pain. My husband and I are both self-employed entrepreneurs, and oftentimes, that means everyone else gets paid before we see a dime. The past two years have been tough, but we never really put into motion a plan. This past October my wise husband came to me and said, “We need to list out our priorities and focus on those things that really matter.” A few weeks later, “We need to stop using the credit card and come up with a cash only budget.” Internally, my stomach knotted and my heart sank because I now saw in black and white how tight money was, but I also knew he was right. The only way to get our financial house in order was to face hard facts. Since that conversation, God has revealed to me areas where I spend needlessly, areas where if we sacrificed temporarily, we could reap real gains that mattered later. If we stopped giving in to the world’s call of instant gratification and said “no,” we could patiently wait until we could pay cash to purchase those things that were desires not needs.
Living with no instant credit is teaching us so much about patience; it is teaching our kids to think before they purchase, to discern the difference in a need and a want. It is also making us more aware of how our purchases affect others; it makes us more globally aware and forces us to look outward rather than always looking in. God is also showing how faithful He is in providing us what we need when we need it. More than anything, financial scarcity is teaching us true dependence on God. He has us exactly where He wants us, looking to Him rather than to ourselves for provision, and He always provides in clever, creative ways that delight us.
Grow My Husband and Me Spiritually
Another prayer I’ve been praying for years is that Jesus would truly be enough for me, that my husband and I would grow spiritually and in our separate and joint relationship in Christ. Nothing pushes you to your knees like trial. Not knowing from day-to-day what to expect, meltdowns from my daughter to no money in the bank, forces you to live in a posture of humble expectation. My husband and I are learning to turn expectantly to Jesus to meet our every need. We are being transformed from entitled, prideful, and self-reliant to humble, grateful, and patient. Y’all this only happened through struggle. This only came about through trial. I’ve always said I wanted Jesus to be enough, but until He’s all you truly have then you’ll never discover that He is all you need. My husband’s faith has grown more in the past year than in the eighteen I’ve known him. The peace we’ve experienced in the midst of difficulty can only come from a relationship with the Prince of Peace.
I’ve been asked what it means to follow Jesus, what is the “benefit” outside of salvation, as if that weren’t enough to drive us to our knees in gratitude and astonishment. Friends, until you’ve come to the end of yourself, it is truly hard to understand all the benefits of Jesus. He is our Provider, Peace-giver, Sustainer, and Friend. Walking through difficulty pushes us to the end of dependence on our feeble efforts and forces us to look up, to readjust our focus and to lean on Him. Is trial fun? No. Is discomfort appealing? No. But how do we stretch and grow until we take that leap of faith and jump out into the unknown, where we find He’s been all along, waiting to catch us and show us that He is indeed enough. So, in the New Year, I encourage you to embrace the struggles and challenges that God allows to come your way and to face the uncertainty of the New Year with faith. Rather than: Why me? Speak: What are You trying to teach me? How are you using this to transform me? Because our ultimate resolution, truly, should be to look a little more like Jesus at the end of the year, so friends, step into 2019 with joy and anticipation, knowing that whatever comes your way, Jesus walks beside you.
We all, with unveiled faces, are reflecting the glory of the Lord and are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory; this is from the Lord who is the Spirit. 2 Corinthians 3:18
Air raids, shoot-outs, taxi holdups- nothing seemed to faze him anymore. Was he just keeping all his tears and screams pent up inside, or was he becoming so used to horrible things happening all around him that he didn’t notice anymore?
How do you discuss the horrible things happening in our world in a meaningful way with your children when they happen to catch a glimpse of the evening news? When your little one crawls into your lap and asks what will happen to the children fleeing their homeland in Syria, what do you say? When they begin to understand that a hurricane or tornado could rip their home or their lives apart, how do you assuage their fears? For my family, we often turn to well-written books that gingerly, yet boldly, address the horrors, evils, and ills that threaten to rip the very seams of our society in an age-appropriate, hope-promoting way. Alan Gratz’s Refugee is one of those books. Continue reading “Review of Refugee”
“He knew that a hero shouldn’t fear death, but where was the glory in dying for his country and never knowing it.”
I first came across Dean Hughes’s Soldier Boys as a student teacher when my host teacher selected it for a book club that met before school once a week. I knew as soon as I read the last page that this provocative title would be among the books I chose to teach in my own classroom. As I expected, it quickly became a class favorite with students fondly recalling the time in my class we read that World War II novel. The last time I taught the book I was expecting my now twelve-year-old daughter, so I was thrilled when she decided to read it for herself. This book opened the door to her love of historical fiction, and she has since gone on to devour every young adult novel she can find on World War II, the Holocaust, and other major historical events.
As the temperature rises so does our anticipation of everything summer: swimming, trips to the beach, cookouts, camp outs, catching fireflies on a clear, starry night. While reading might not top the list of summer expectations, some of my fondest summer memories include losing myself in the pages of a book. I spent summers hanging out with Scout, Lucy, Huck, and Margaret. Yes, I also enjoyed time with real, live people, but to me, the characters on the pages were as real as a neighbor, and their quandaries always provided insight into solving my own authentic dilemmas. Summer also meant swinging lazily on my grandmother’s front porch swing, book in hand, or riding my bike to my great-aunt’s house, eager to sit on her front porch and discuss our latest read. Cookies and lemonade always complemented our serious discussions on character analysis and unexpected plot twists. Often, she would throw in stories of her own, usually more entertaining than a best-seller. Summer wasn’t summer without a list of books to savor on those lazy, humid afternoons. Continue reading “Summer Reading”
This is a book review written by my 12-year-old daughter. She joins me now in reviewing her must-reads.
She glanced at her father’s beloved features from under her eyelashes. Etched upon his features was the terrible knowledge that the world as they knew it had changed and there was no going back.
Escape from Aleppo is about a girl named Nadia who lives in the peaceful town of Aleppo, Syria. Life is normal then civil war breaks out, and many people are forced to leave. Her family desires to leave, too. When a wall collapses, Nadia’s family assumes she’s dead and flees for Turkey. But Nadia is alive. Separated from her family, she struggles to find her own way to Turkey. This book is the story of finding her family and meeting and losing a few friends along the way.
“I can’t believe it,” Khala Lina growled. “They are destroying the very heart of Haleb….erasing five thousand years of history and culture.”
My favorite character in the novel is Basel. He likes to draw like I do and he’s resourceful. He reminds Nadia of her little brother, so Nadia takes care of Basel on their journey to Turkey. Nadia discovers through Basel that she loves her family, and they inspire her will to survive.
This book opened my eyes to the struggle in Syria. I didn’t even know there was a war going on in Syria. Nadia shows us that this war is splitting families apart. I learned from Nadia how to have a good attitude and to persevere in the face of hardship.
A dizzying blur of grey passes by the window as I quickly glance at my eleven-year-old daughter, who occupies the passenger seat on our trek over Monteagle. My children and I are heading to my brother’s for my nephew’s birthday party. A has her laptop perched in her lap, and the faint but determined clicking of keys fills the silence, capturing my attention. A pauses in her typing, and I know she’s critically eyeing her screen, brow raised in contemplation as she scrutinizes her latest sentence.
“What are you working on?” I ask.
“My newest short story.” She pauses for a second then continues, “You know, Mom, I’ve been reading a lot of books, and you know what makes them good?” She doesn’t wait for my answer. “They’re full of details and descriptions. The reader can picture it all in her head. I’ve started adding detail to my stories. Listen…..It’s a stormy day. Marigold sits perched on the edge of her bed…..” Continue reading “How Getting Out of the Way Improved My Children’s Learning: The Education of a Homeschooling Mom”
I’m often greeted with mixed responses whenever I mention one particular practice in which my husband and I participate: fasting. “Why would you choose not to eat on purpose?” “I could never do that. I get angry when I’m hungry.” “You’re crazy.” These are just among the top of hundreds of responses I receive to the topic of fasting.
New Year’s Day is not my favorite holiday, if I’m honest. After spending a month preparing for and celebrating the coming of our Savior, we suddenly turn from reflecting on God’s great love and grace and indulging in cheesecake and dark chocolate to this day of self-reflection and self-examination, which for me, always turns into a day of self-loathing. New Year’s Day fills me with a sense of apprehension, this heightened awareness of my shortcomings and failures, a reminder of all those things left unaccomplished from the year before. It’s a day where I’m forced to call myself to the carpet and anxiously await the litany of failed expectations with which I’m certain to berate myself. Continue reading “Great Expectations”
A friend of mine recently lost her job and now faces an uncertain economic future. I have a friend who has decided to courageously fight and overcome an obstacle that has plagued her for years. Another friend has spent weeks in a hospital at her mom’s side, rotating shifts with exhausted family members, balancing the needs of her family with the needs of her mother, not knowing each time she leaves to care for her three children, if it will be the last time she sees her mom alive. My grandmother speaks wistfully of a desire to return to her home, leaving the assisted living facility where she now resides, knowing that her longing will most likely never be fulfilled. My cousin missed her daughter’s college graduation to rush to her father’s side as he fought for his life in a hospital. Today, a dear friend, who had just comforted neighbors who lost their son to suicide, learned that her best friend lost her young daughter in a drowning. I don’t know her friend, but because the experience of motherhood is universal, I wept for her loss because no friend cries alone, no family member cries alone, no mother cries alone.