Kari over at Simple Homeschool
Since I have 12+ years of posts over at Simple Homeschool, I wanted to share a quick link here on the Favorite Posts sidebar, in case it can be helpful to anyone. Below that link is my most recent post, on the importance of letting children be involved in choosing their educational paths. Thanks for reading!
https://simplehomeschool.net/author/kari
Bill Zyp: Celebration of Life {livestream}
Celebration of life for Bill Zyp will be hosted by Foothills Community Church, 122 Grange St, Molalla, Oregon on Thursday, April 4th, 2 PM. Livestream posted here, which will remain online as recording.Read More
How hard do I push my hesitant child?
Hey friends! I shared this over at Simple Homeschool and completely forgot to include it here. I hope this can encourage you!
Karen Zyp: Celebration of Life {livestream}
Hi friends, it has been a whirlwind few weeks. My sweet mama passed away on New Year’s Eve. Here is the livestream link for her Celebration of Life service on Saturday, January 15th at 3pm PST. I’ll write more about her life in the weeks to come.
Karen Elizabeth (Zoet) Zyp passed away December 31st, 2021 in her home, surrounded by her family. She was born March 2, 1945 in Aloha to Howard and Francis Zoet. Two years later her sister Linda was born who would become her lifelong best friend. On December 26th, 1970, she married the love of her life, William (Bill) Zyp of Woodburn. A school teacher, she joyfully and passionately instilled in her students a love for learning, insisting that each child deserved individual attention. Bill & Karen enjoyed 51 years of marriage together, building four homes, traveling, boating, and raising their two children. Karen gave herself wholly and sacrificially to nurturing, teaching, and caring for her kids. A faithful prayer warrior, she enlisted those around her to pray as well, serving as the State Coordinator for Moms in Touch, an organization that mobilizes moms to pray on-site for schools throughout the state. In 2003, Karen was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and so began a long difficult journey. Her husband Bill faithfully and tirelessly cared for her until her dying breath. She is survived by her husband, Bill, sister Linda (& Dan) Hardman, son Kris (& Nikki) Zyp, and daughter Kari (& Jeff) Patterson. As a grandmother she is known as beloved “Oma” to Dutch, Jennika, Heidi, Korban, Justice, and Benjamin. They all want to express their deepest gratitude for your prayers, presence, and loving support.
Celebration of life hosted by Foothills Community Church in Molalla, Oregon on Saturday, January 15, 3 PM.
When we strike the rock: leading and parenting from anger
Every time I read about Moses I learn more about leadership. In my most discouraging moments, at times when I’ve wanted to quit or I’ve felt hopelessly unqualified for the task at hand, God has used Moses to correct, encourage, inform, and equip me for whatever was ahead.
Moses was awesome, but also failed. The people he led wavered between loving him and hating him. There were high highs and low lows. There were many crises. He wanted to quit on multiple occasions.
Sounds like leadership. Also sounds like parenting.
Anybody? Parenting is really just an intense 24-7 form of leadership. I have told Jeff multiple times, when bemoaning some seemingly terrible leadership decision from someone in power, “If only we had more MOMS in charge! Anyone who has trained a toddler knows that [this plan] is not going to work!”
This time around studying Moses, a new truth surfaced from the never-changing-but-always-fresh words of Scripture.
The tragic striking of the rock.
As some of you know, early on in the wilderness journey, God tells Moses to strike the rock (Ex. 17:6) in order to provide water for the people to drink. Moses was already desperate at that point as the people were ready to kill him they were so thirsty. The people were quarreling, complaining, grumbling — this is NOT a happy scene. But Moses obeys God, strikes the rock, and they had water to drink.
Much later on, in Numbers 20, Moses is getting worn down. He’s endured the Golden Calf incident, he’s endured the endless complaining of the people to such an extent that he cries out to God,
“I am not able to carry all this people alone; the burden is too heavy for me. If you will treat me like this, kill me at once.”
Numbers 11:14
In the margin of my Bible my handwriting reads, from years before, “Leadership: I’d rather die than do this. So hard.” That’s what Moses felt like! After this, even his own brother and sister, the very closest people to him, even THEY oppose him. And then the spies that check out the promised land are cowardly and they fill the people with fear, then the people rebel again, Israel is defeated in battle, Korah’s rebellion ensues and 250 chiefs of the people rise up against Moses and the ground opens up and swallows them and their families whole.
This is unbelievable opposition, difficulty, resistance, push-back.
This sounds like training a strong-willed toddler!
Anybody? Anytime I think that leadership or parenting is difficult, I can just lay it all out next to Moses situation here and it gives me perspective.
So this sets the stage, sadly, for Moses’ failure. He’s endured incredible opposition, complaining, animosity, even rebellion and betrayal. I’m guessing that at this point he’s HAD IT UP TO HERE with these people.
And so, in one incredibly sad, tragic moment, he allows all the pent-up frustration to get to him, and he makes his fatal mistake:
He lets himself lead out of anger.
The people are thirsty. AGAIN. The people complain. AGAIN. The people assemble themselves against Moses. AGAIN.
So God tells Moses to “tell the rock before their eyes to yield its water.” Got that? He doesn’t tell him to strike the rock this time, but only tell the rock. But what does Moses do?
Again, he’s sick to death of all this complaining. So he says,
“‘Hear now, you rebels; shall we bring water for you out of this rock?” And Moses lifted up his hand and struck the rock with his staff twice.’
(Num 11:10)
Then what happened. Water came out of the rock. The people drank. Perhaps on the outside it seemed fine.
But it wasn’t fine. Moses had disobeyed. He had let the people’s complaining drive him to the point that he responded out of anger and misrepresented God.
Apparently, that is a MONUMENTAL no-no. Because of it, Moses didn’t get to enter the promised land.
I’ve often reflected on the fact that God’s punishment of Moses seems harsh. He did so many things right. And yet, this one mis-step cost him dearly. He would never get to set foot into the promised land and see that fulfillment of all God promised to do.
As parents, we’ve probably all had those moments where we let our children’s misbehavior drive us to the point where we respond out of anger. Hands down, this is my biggest regret of my early parenting years.
(Please note, it wasn’t necessarily that striking the rock was bad. I have heard people say that they refuse to do this or that form of discipline because they associate that form with anger. To be sure, we absolutely SHOULD NOT discipline out of anger, but we have to be careful that we do not assume that one form of discipline is necessarily out of anger and others are not. It’s our hearts. One time, God told Moses to strike the rock. The next time, He told him to do something different. Therefore, it wasn’t necessarily the method that mattered, it was his heart, his obedience to God, and it was that Moses was to represent God accurately.)
But what struck me this time (pun totally intended), was that it was Moses’ responsibility not to let the people’s complaining drive him to a place that He disobeyed God and responded out of anger. Sure, the people complained, but God held MOSES responsible for his own actions. The people died for their own sin. God took care of them. But Moses had no excuse.
Parents, leaders: WE are responsible for our own souls. We are responsible for whether or not we let the push-back or complaining or whatever challenges lead us to a place of anger and disobedience to God.
For me personally, this was a sobering word from God. God is going to do what He will with or without me. He is going to be faithful. He is going to be gracious. He is going to carry out His good will in this world.
Do I want to be part of it or not? Do I want to see the fulfillment or not?
No one else is responsible for my responses. No one else is responsible for making sure that Kari doesn’t lose her temper (or or her mind!). I cannot expect other people to not “push my buttons.”
I don’t get to blame anybody else for my lack of grace.
I know we can’t know things like this, but it does make me wonder, “What if Moses had done a better job shepherding his own soul? What it Moses had taken more time to be alone with God and allow God to heal and encourage and strengthen him?” Of course we can’t know that. But I CAN learn from his life and recognize that I need to build in pressure-valves into my life so that I can get with God and allow Him to take that pressure away, so that I don’t blow up and misrepresent God to my children or to those I lead.
For me, this is a serious word that requires careful consideration of what practical steps need to be taken. If you have ever found yourself responding to your children, or family, or co-workers, or those you lead, out of anger — perhaps this word is for you as well?
God will do His thing with or without us. I don’t want to miss it. I want to see the Promised Land.
The surprising path to rest
Ouch. That stings. I can usually tell I’m hurt by someone or something because I inwardly begin a monologue about why I’m justified in feeling how I do, how I would explain to someone else why this was so hurtful, or I would begin mentally drafting a message to the person explaining why what they did was wrong, etc.
In a word, I protest.
Thankfully, I’m (slowly) learning a better way. I sat down with the Word, the only Truth, the Anchor, and slipped into quiet conversation with my Heavenly Father, and asked Him to help me see the situation through His eyes, not mine.
Mine are often so desperately clouded by pride and immaturity.
My eye fell to my passage for the day, beginning in Psalm 94:
Blessed is the man whom you discipline, O LORD, and whom you teach out of your law, to give him rest from days of trouble, until a pit is dug for the wicked.
Ps. 94:12
Ah, yes. That’s the truth of it, right? We get stuck on the details of the situation, forgetting that God’s gracious hand is over all and in all and through all.
Discipline. It comes in the form of stings.
I had a smile. Of course I’m back in the days of toddler-training, and I’m rediscovering all over again how my Father trains me.
Justice, of course, is a constant joy in our lives. He’s our miracle baby and we can’t imagine life without him. He’s also SO VERY BUSY. Just this morning he played a fun game breaking eggs all over the floor. Well, back in June I had an eye-opening experience where I realized I’d really been slacking in disciplining him. One day he was climbing up the fireplace (again) and I was too busy to discipline him, and Heidi said,
“It’s only going to get harder to train him if you wait.”
I knew she was right. The truth was, it was unloving of me to allow Justice to behave in ways that I’d only have to later discipline him for. Almost like it was deceiving. My actions were saying, “This is fine today, but tomorrow it won’t be.” I knew what I needed to do.
So I set aside three days for training. With my bright-pink little lightweight ruler (weighs .5 ounce!) I spent every waking moment near Justice. We went through all the various activities we always do, and with my little ruler-flick on his thigh (just enough for a little sting), I taught him the new normal–what things are okay and what things are not. Some things took a long time, I let him play with a marble but gave him a flick if he put it in his mouth (I want to make sure he’s safe around small objects). It took about ten flicks before he finally figured it out, but then he never put it in his mouth again! The kids sat there and played marbles with him and he happily played along and never put it in his mouth.
When he would obey, I’d cheer and hug him and he was obviously SO pleased. It really was only about 1.5 hours total of nonstop training, and then just the sight of the ruler and my word no and he would obey.
The biggest thing I noticed was how much HAPPIER he was. It was like his spirit settled because he finally knew what he was supposed to do to please his mama.
Now, obviously I have to continue this, especially in new situations, or as he gains new physical abilities, the process of learning obedience will be lifelong, but I just felt like it was such a picture for me with my Father.
In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. And have you completely forgotten this word of encouragement that addresses you as a father addresses his son? It says,“My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you,because the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son.” Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? If you are not disciplined—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of spirits and live! They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.
Hebrews 12:4-11
I had never noticed how it specifically says, “Endure hardship AS discipline.” Now, obviously the source of our hardship can be a lot of different things (physical suffering, offenses from others, emotional struggles) but in terms of how we RESPOND to it, we are to respond to it AS DISCIPLINE. That is, I can accept that this hardship is helping me to know more clearly how I can please my Father. It’s training! And even though “no discipline seems pleasant” (there’s a sting!) I also see how much HAPPIER Justice is after being trained, and I know the same is true for me. Even though it’s painful, it’s cleansing. Scriptures says,
Blows that wound cleanse away evil; strokes make clean the innermost parts.
Prov. 20:30
So does this have to do with rest?
Often we think that we can’t really train our children because if we really disciplined for every misbehavior then we’d be discipling all day. Well, yes and no. The truth is, YES, it will take all day for ONE DAY. Or maybe 2-3. But 2-3 days of consistent training works wonders in a small child, and the truth is–in the long run you will be REST.
See, we so often get it backwards. We’re too tired to discipline, it’s too exhausting. We need rest. So we don’t train, and then we end up exhausted because our children are whiny, wild, rude, annoying us to no end.
I wrote the following verse on the back of my little pink ruler so it would remind me of the truth:
Discipline your son, and he will give you rest; he will give delight to your heart.
Prov. 29:17
The truth is, if I put in the work now, in the long-run it will bring rest and delight to my soul. AND, as Psalm 94 says, when we are the recipients of discipline, it will also ultimately give us rest. We will have rest in the mist of “days of trouble” — when the world is crazy and full of turmoil, our hearts will have rest because we’ve allowed God to discipline us.
We find true rest not by avoiding the hard stuff. By doing the hard work of discipline–both giving and receiving–we ultimately get the reward of entering into true soul-rest and delight.
If you are in the midst of disciplining, or of receiving a sting of discipline, hang in there! It will bear the fruit of rest in your life! Thanks for reading.
5 things your kids want you to know
I recently sat on the couch with another homeschooling friend and discussed the kind of moms we want to be. There’s so much pressure out there to be more and do more, to hustle, hurry, achieve. But I always find myself returning to this simple question that helps center my spirit:
If I were a child, what kind of mom would I want?
I usually arrive at something like this: I’d like a mom who’s warm and kind, who isn’t in a hurry, who listens to my stories and admires my artwork, who smiles and helps me when I need it. I’d like a mom who’s a little bit squishy when I hug her and isn’t too worried about stuff, who teaches me how to live without getting too angry when I mess up. I’d like a mom who genuinely enjoys being my mom.
It’s interesting to note that children, for the most part, don’t want a mom who’s a certain weight, who looks a certain way, who has a certain size house or a certain job or makes a certain amount of money.
Children have a way of reminding us what really matters.
Along these same lines, I thought, If I were a child, what kind of homeschool would I want? Better yet, what do my actual children want? I had a feeling that a “Pinterest-worthy schoolroom” wasn’t high on their list.
So, out of curiosity, I interviewed my sixth and fourth graders and asked them, “If you could represent all kids, and share five things with homeschooling parents, what would you say? What makes for a great homeschool?”
This is what they said: Read the rest over at Simple Homeschool! Thanks for reading!
A prayer for our, and perhaps your, children…
I love this time of year: My feed is full of first-day-of-school photos. Bright-eyed littles holding sign-boards showing their grade, new clothes and combed hair and eager anticipation of the year brimming with opportunity. I admit, homeschooling is a little anticlimactic in that department. No new clothes nor combed hair (ha!), and my kids are never quite sure which grade they are in. 😉 BUT, I still love this time of year, and no matter how you educate, it is a sacred season for considering the year ahead that is, without a doubt, brim-full of opportunity.
I recently had a sweet conversation thread going with a dear group of ladies–my college roommates. We shared a house, and there was no shortage of laughter, clothes-swapping, male-visitors (I married one!), and chocolate chips cookies. We’ve stayed in touch over the last 20 years and we now have 33 children between us (!). It is no small miracle we have managed to stay connected over the years.
Recently, one girl suggested we share with each other our prayers for our children’s upcoming school year. Another Mama went first, and just reading her precious heart-felt prayer for her children re-lit a fire in my own heart to earnestly intercede for my kids this year. I realized that because I don’t send my kids “out into the world” each September, I don’t sense the same urgency, or keen sense of need (or whatever you might call it) to pray for my children. I mean, I pray for them, but they’re also RIGHT BY MY SIDE EVERY SINGLE MOMENT OF THE DAY and so… just sayin’…sometimes they’re so close it’s easy to neglect covering them heavily in prayer.
I’m also re-reading one of my favorite prayer books, A Praying Life, by Paul Miller, along with my sister-in-law. I was struck afresh by this page:
I think perhaps, because I’m with my kids all day, I can often look to my own resources, ingenuity, or methods to modify their behavior or address some issue. But when I acknowledge the truth that only God can change their hearts, then I will tackle these issues more effectively: In prayer.
So, I wrote out my 2018-2019 prayers for my children, sent to my sweet sisters in an email, and thought I’d just copy and paste with y’all too, in case it can be encouraging to you as well as you pray for your own children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, or any other children God has entrusted to your care.
How Justice Came: Delivery (2 of 2)
Continuing from part one » How Justice Came: Preparations
After sleeping soundly through the night, I woke at 7am Saturday morning with a contraction.
Not painful or intense, but definitely a contraction. I had never had them during the day, so that was a bit different from usual. Dutch had just crawled into our bed on Jeff’s side, and since he doesn’t snuggle with his body but rather with his words, I curled up close to him and listened to his latest lecture on some aspect of Lord of the Rings. Something about Smaug.
Another mild contraction.
I got up. Now let me tell you, after having hundreds of contractions and a dozen false-alarms, I didn’t even want to think about announcing labor unless it was well underway. I went along the morning as usual, mild contractions coming about every 6-7 minutes. I went out to the garden, pulled weeds, ate peas, and periodically timed squeezes.
At 10am I told Jeff that I’d been having mild, regular contractions, so thought I’d go lay down and rest and see if they’d stop. At this point I didn’t want to “try to get things going” because I’d done that so many times, I just wanted to try to make things stop, and see if true labor might actually progress.
Sure enough, I laid down for a nap, and they slowed way down. *sigh* I rested for an hour, thinking that was probably the end and we had another normal day ahead.
But as soon as I got back up, they began again. Slowly over the next hour, they intensified a little and were consistently 3-4 min apart. By 12 I just wanted to be alone. They weren’t overwhelming, I just found myself irritated by any interactions with the kids, and kept wanting to close my eyes and be alone. The kids were eager to get to my parents’ house and play with cousins, so I asked Jeff to take them there so I could have some time alone. Even if this wasn’t real labor, they’d get to play and I’d get to relax.
While he was gone, things ramped up a bit. When he got back at 1pm I had my earbuds in and was outside on our patio, listening to soft nature music and breathing through contractions. My back hurt so he pressed my back with each contraction.
From that moment on, for 7.5 hours straight, Jeff never left my side.
At 2pm, I texted my midwife to see if I could come into the birth center. I knew I wasn’t super far along, but I felt uncertain about how to even know how far I was. The contractions weren’t super strong but they were close together and consistent. I knew the “labor at home as long as you can” rule, but we also live 30 minutes from the birth center, and after so many false alarms, I found myself wanting some sort of check point. She agreed to meet us there.
After arriving, she confirmed I was only 3.5 cm, so would need to labor some more at home. She also suggested doing three 30-minute Spinning Babies techniques to get baby spun around to a better position. She said things usually pick up more at night, so perhaps by the evening time things would progress more.
Gratefully, I wasn’t discouraged (though Jeff told me the next day that he was!). Even though I had to go home, Justice WAS coming. This wasn’t a false alarm. I was dilating. This baby was coming, and God had perfectly prepared me for exactly this moment.
On our drive home, I texted a few praying friends and asked them to please pray that things would progress.
Pray they did!
By the time we got home at 3:30, things were already much more intense. I did the forward inversions for 30-minutes straight and YOW! that got things moving! The next 30-minute stretch was even more intense, this baby was most certainly moving! Before I could finish the last 30-minutes Jeff called the midwife back and she could hear me 😉 so she said it was time to come back in.
I’m not sure how descriptive of a birth blow-by-blow y’all want here on this blog, so if you love birth stories and want more details I’m happy to share. 😉 The short version is we arrived back at the birth center at 5:30. I labored to Hard Love in my earbuds for an hour and a half.
Jeff was right beside me and held my hand through every single contraction.
With my hand in his, it was so awesome to just completely block everything out and focus on those amazing lyrics. It was the perfect picture of embracing pain, struggle, of setting oneself aside for the sake of giving life to another.
It was intense, it was hard, but it was a hard love.
My water broke and they thought I was fully dilated at 7pm, but strangely enough I felt like God had impressed on me that Justice would come at 8-something. So I knew it couldn’t yet be time. Besides, it didn’t seem difficult enough.
Yep, turns out I still had a little ways to go.
Then things ramped up and I needed a change. So I turned to Resurrection Day. Yes! THIS, this was my resurrection day. This was the day of redemption.
This was the day God rewrote those words above my head, changed them from WEAK to WARRIOR.
Not in my strength. Not in a pride, puffed up way. In a way that recognizes that in myself, I am nothing. In Christ, everything.
This wasn’t about having something to prove, it was about HIM PROVING HIMSELF to me, and showing His resurrection power in me.
I broke into a huge smile and praised God. Four midwives standing around, I was able to close my eyes and worship God.
Resurrection day!
The end was …*ahem* intense. No music. At 7:30 I sensed my spirit weakening. I was slipping…the thought slowly crept into my head,
“I can’t do this…”
NO. I knew that I couldn’t speak that out. Yes, the thought was there. The feeling was there. That’s legit. But I didn’t have to speak it. I didn’t have to give it life. I didn’t have to give power to it.
If I learned anything during our difficult year, it was the absolute necessity of taking every thought captive. Yes, we have them. They are legit feelings. But we can CHOOSE whether they get to take residence in our hearts and minds.
God’s exhortation to take every thought captive isn’t a sweet little suggestion—it’s necessary for survival in the life of faith.
So instead I wrapped my arms around Jeff’s neck, squeezed myself into his chest as hard as I could, and whimpered into his ear,
“Please…pray for me. Please.”
And He did. And, unbeknownst to me, so did several dear friends—all around 7:30 struck with an urgent need to pray for me.
That gave just the breakthrough I needed.
At 8:15, we stalled again a bit, and again one of the amazing midwives did some techniques to get over that last hump and BOOM, there he quickly descended.
Leaning on Jeff, with my arms wrapped tightly around his neck, my face right next to his, holding each other…
WE, TOGETHER, AS ONE, brought Justice into the world.
“Oh Justice! Justice! Oh Justice! I love you!”
Tears and exhaustion and relief and sweat and blood all mingled up into inexpressible JOY and triumph. Justice was here! We did it!
And yes, I may have said to Jeff shortly thereafter, “I don’t know if I want to do that again.” Haha!
BUT, it was worth it, and although I want this little boy to be able to just be a little boy—no expectations, I know that God has a special plan for his life. And I continue to hear interesting tidbits about God’s JUSTICE coming. Just one hour after Justice’s birth this was shared on Facebook. I don’t know this person, but it was sent to me by another, and is certainly interesting. No matter what, we are wise to line up with God’s Word and pray for His justice on this earth, for truth to surface and sin to be found out, for mercy and justice to be extended to the poor and marginalized, the helpless and voiceless.
I have no idea if Justice will himself be part of this. (We won’t occupy ourselves with anything too great and marvelous for us, just reveling in this moment.) For today, we just cheer when he poops and takes a good nap. We celebrate his perfect squishy goodness and kiss his cheeks and lips and LOVE HIM to pieces, just for being the little boy that He is.
Just how God is with us.
And honestly, even more than my joy over Justice, I am overwhelmed with joy over Jeff. Yes, I love this baby. But Jeff will be by my side long after Justice spreads his wings and flies.
I’ll tell you what: The most difficult part of last year was a low-point in our marriage that was completely my fault. I allowed thoughts to take residence unchallenged: negative, critical, selfish, undisciplined thoughts that caused my heart to cool. But Jeff fiercely fought for my affections. He pursued me when I was distant. He served me when I was selfish. He was undaunted by my indifference and won my heart back over more fully than ever before.
This experience, of laboring together to bring Justice into this world, was the glorious culmination of our hard-won love. In my previous labors, I would have said, “I could never have done it without my anesthesiologist!” (Nothing wrong with that, just sayin!) This time I can honestly say, “I could never ever have done it, without my husband.”
So, dear friends, that’s the story. Of course it’s not over, but I’m putting my feet up for a moment and just thanking God for His faithfulness. Thank you for following along on this journey. Until next time…
…thanks for reading.
When you feel like growling at God…
We were caught off guard the first time it happened. Our sweet, happy, laid back, never-barked-before dog lunged forward and growled at the little girl slowly approaching. Say what?!
She must have just been caught off guard, we thought. Give it time.
But it got worse. For the first week she was here, she was an angel. Happy to see everyone. Never barked. Absolutely fell in love with Heidi and adoringly followed her everywhere she went. I was so thrilled for her. After 18-mos of hoping and praying for a dog, Heidi had a newfound confidence, happily trotting off into the woods on her own, exploring, adventuring, happily sitting on the deck for hours, reading a book curled up next to her new furry best friend. Everything seemed perfect.
Then the growling increased. Not at us. Never at us. But at strangers. A couple days later she was downright snarling at any little unsuspecting visitors. But then when it was just our family she was her docile, sweet self, rolling on her back gleefully while Heidi snuggled up beside her. I figured it would get better, but then … a dear friend came by and in a split second, before we knew what was happening, she bit their poor little girl.
We were horrified. My friend was so gracious, but needless to say we were all upset, the poor little girl was terrified, and as soon as they left Heidi and I started sobbing. I knew what this meant—her new best friend could not stay. Our home has to be safe for visitors of all ages. Her answer to prayer was unraveling right before our eyes.
Now, I get that sometimes our emotional response seems extreme. But just the day before Jeff had been hit by a truck while riding his bike, so we were already dealing with a concussion, recovery, and some emotional upheaval, I’ve had insomnia so I hadn’t slept well in weeks, and I’m 8-mos pregnant (hello hormones!) … it was just the perfect storm. Heidi and I curled up together on the couch and cried.
And silently, I started growling at God.
I mean growling. See, my girl is something precious to me. She’s got faith like nobody’s business and she prays like she believes because she does. As long as she’s been able to clasp her hands together that girl has prayed for healing for her grandma.
And it hasn’t happened. Day after day, year after year she has prayed. And more times than I can count she has cried to me, late at night, “Why doesn’t God answer?!”
Oh sweet girl, I don’t know.
She prayed fervently for a little sibling, then was devastated by both miscarriages. (Thank you, Father for Justice! We believe he is coming!)
She prayed fervently for a pet, and in the meantime lost 3 cats, and now has adopted (and adored) two different dogs only to lose them both.
I know in the grand scheme these are small things, but it just felt like too much for her poor little heart. Especially considering we’ve also had four family deaths in the last two years. It just felt like every time we turned around someone or something was lost. It’s easier to not have something than to have it and lose it, again and again and again.
“Why?! God, why are you set on crushing her heart?! It feels like you are dead-set on destroying all trace of faith she has! Why are you doing this to her?! First my mom. Then the babies. Then the cats. Now the dogs. Why are you breaking her heart?!”
Silently, I growled.
I clutched my girl in my arms, wiping her tears. Hers slowly subsided but mine only increased. I couldn’t stop it, I was just overwhelmed with loyalty to her, wanting her happy, wanting an answer to prayer for her, so desperately wanting her to have something she prayed for.
I wrapped my arms around her, instinctively, protectively, guarding her…
Guarding her?
From what?
From … God?
I’d say guarding her from disappointment, from pain, from sorrow, from loss.
But could I be over-guarding her? So much so that I was actually growling at and guarding her from God?
A good friend texted, suggesting that I research the breed of dog and see if aggression was common.
Turns out, they are super happy, kid-friendly dogs…but over time, when they have a beloved owner they can become so loyal they’re over-protective, to the point of extreme aggression toward any perceived threat.
Loyal and over-protective? Extreme aggression toward any perceived threat?
Was I reading about Australian Shepherds or … me?
I had just been reading a book about raising daughters, and grappling with the reality of allowing God full access to my girl, even if it meant pain.
What’s interesting is: these dogs only act fierce “when they perceive themselves as ‘top dog’—that is, when they think it is their responsibility to guard and protect their owner.”
Do I think of myself as “top dog” around here? Do I really think it is up to me to guard my daughter from all perceived threats? Do I think I’m that important? That capable?
Do I think I’m God?
I opened my Bible. Psalm 33:20-21 was underlined from this morning’s reading,
“Our soul waits for the LORD; for He is our help and our shield. For our heart is glad in Him, because we trust in His holy name.”
Do I believe HE is our shield? Do I trust His holy name? Or do I think I am the help? That I am the shield?
I turned the page:
“The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” (Ps. 34:18).
I want to guard my daughter from many things, but not from nearness to God. I do not wish broken-heartedness on her, on anyone, but I know that He loves her more than I can comprehend, and is working all things for her good, better than I could ever hope to. I have to believe this. He is top dog, and He will do the guarding. That is not my job. I am to pray, to guide, to counsel, and then … to trust.
To believe what I say, right here in this book, about disappointment. That God works it all, in the end, for glorious fulfillment.
I never, ever, ever, want to guard her from that.
{On the twisty, windy journey of faith with you. Thanks for reading.}
*BTW: We are all fine. Heidi’s furry buddy went back to his previous owners, and she handled it like a champ. I cried more than her! She actually wrote me a bday card saying, “We are all sorry to see Grizzly leave, but I’m sure she’ll be happy wherever she is…thank you for all the love and support you’ve given me. God has a plan!” And last night she told me, “Now remember, Mommy, no more tears!” Haha, 9-years-old and she’s basically discipling me these days. 😉 Jeff is recovering well, we have much to be grateful for.
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*LAST day (Sun) to get Sacred Mundane ebook for $1.99. Paper copies available here: https://squareup.com/store/sacred-mundane