Camping on Contentment: It’s not about stuff, it’s where the stuff resides.
I had a re-epiphany today. You know, one of those moments you learn something again for the first time. We’re continuing our series of Camping on Contentment, and today my lessons had skin and walked around in front of me.
As I mentioned Paul wrote, from prison, awaiting a possible death sentence, to the church at Philippi:
“…I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (Phil. 4:11-13).
We’re on day 3 of this week-long camping trip at beautiful Foster Reservoir outside Sweet Home, Oregon. The landscape is breath-taking, the weather is perfect, and not a wireless signal to be found. It’s heaven. So, my post included the truth, perhaps obvious, that we are often most content when we are without our everyday luxuries and conveniences. But really, as Paul says, true contentment has nothing to do with having or not having, with going all out or going without. It isn’t about the amount you have, it’s about where that amount resides. It is not within, it’s without.
So I saw this played out in two people yesterday, both of whom I respect greatly. One has lived in multi-million dollar, gorgeous homes, has amazing taste, and makes Martha Stewart look like a failing Home Ec. student. She’s truly remarkable. Her quilts and pies and artistic touches always have me in awe. Her homes have been teeming with beautiful art, décor, rare antiques. But because of life’s unpredictable circumstances, she’s now had to down-size considerably. Give away loads and loads and loads of her beautiful things. Suffice it to say she’s given up a LOT.
Here’s what amazes me. She is absolutely happy. I’m watching her hand over thing after thing after thing and she doesn’t bat an eyelash. Her actions echo Paul’s words: in whatever situation I am content. The bottom line is this: regardless of what beautiful things someone has, the important thing is where they reside. If they are internal, that is in the center of one’s heart, where they become what it takes to create happiness, we are doomed to despair and discontent. But no matter how much one has, if it is external, there can be the joy of living with or without luxury. It’s fun to have, but not tragic when it’s gone.
On a similar note, we spent some blessed time with our missionary friends from Africa. Here’s a candid confession—sometimes I dread spending time with missionaries just back from a foreign country because I’m afraid they’re going to look with a critical eye on every luxury I have. What if they see my SUV and shake their heads in disapproval? Will I be able to indulge in our beloved s’mores tradition if they’re staring at me and thinking of starving children? I’m sure this is all in my head, but I get nervous nonetheless.
Here was the refreshing reality. They have learned the Paul secret as well. “I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger.” They know how to live in both worlds. In Africa, they live like the people. They live on their level, eat their food, travel with them. And yet, it was so fun to see this woman’s unashamed joy as she recounted coming back home and just standing and staring around her house, amazed all over again at how beautiful it is. Not ashamed of it, just purely thankful for it. Embracing it. Enjoying it. And, she was thoroughly enjoying the camping festivities—the BBQ, the boat rides, the lounging by the campfire. There was not a hint of disapproval in her. Bottom line? She knows how to live in plenty and in want. She can enjoy the things that we are blessed with here in the United States, and she can live as happy as a clam without them in Africa. Why? Because things, comforts, are external to her. They are not what create her happiness.
That, is the key. In these two women’s lives I saw the example of those who are comfortable in two worlds. They understand that God does give us wonderful things to enjoy. Perfect example: Tonight I had one of the sweetest moments of my life: A glorious evening boat ride, in the warm gentle breeze, watching my husband wakeboard while holding both my precious children on my lap. Kissing their cheeks, all smushed up by the lifejackets, breathing the perfect scent of their hair, listening to their squeals of laughter as they watched Jeff splash and jump and crash in the cool water. I told my dad, “This boat is a gift. It has given us years and years of our most precious family memories.” My very earliest childhood memory, at just two years old, is of boating. My entire life is sprinkled with amazing boating memories. I never dreamed I’d one day get to enjoy these precious times with my own children. And here we are. That silly hunk of fiberglass and metal (or whatever boats are made of!), has been the source of countless joyful occasions. A true gift to enjoy.
So we are free to enjoy the luxurious gifts, when they are given. I love the beauty of my home. I am still in awe of little things like the creamy color of the molding, the beautiful bronzed fixtures, the window above my sink. And yet, last summer was just as wonderful, living in that smelly little apartment that baked like an oven in the sun. I gave the kids rides around the living room in a laundry basket and Dutch spent the afternoons playing in a kiddie pool filled with dirty gravel on the balcony. With or without, right?
So enjoy! Be free to enjoy what you have, without thinking about what you don’t have. Use it, love it, enjoy it, share it, and thank God for it. With or without, we’re thankful and happy. I’m enjoying this camping on contentment thing. Campfire’s out, it’s time for sleep. See you in the morning.
Camping on Contentment: Scratching the Surface
*Yes, I’m back from camping. Here are my musings.
I write these words sitting in a lawn chair. It’s torn on one side, but still holds me up. My feet are bare, my toes digging into the dirt around our campfire. At my side my son plays with his old toy excavator in the pebbles. My daughter is asleep. I haven’t showered, but I’ve had a cup of instant coffee and half a bowl of Special K (which was free, of course, thanks to coupons!). It would have been a whole bowl but my daughter hijacked it and finished it herself. Oh well. We’re camping. Somehow things that seem like such a big deal at home—a hot shower and breakfast—don’t matter at all when we’re surrounded by dirt and grass and glorious oak trees, by a lake and an Osprey nest and dozens of other unshowered people who, like me, are wearing the same clothes they wore yesterday. Sitting in this lawn chair, in the dappled shade and lightly blowing breeze, is just about perfection.
Isn’t it interesting that we find ourselves the most content during the times we go without our everyday conveniences?
Mission trips are the best example of this. My first mission trip was to Recife, Brasil. My friend and I rotated three pairs of shorts the whole 2 ½ weeks we were there. We slept on a concrete floor, worked from 5am-10pm each day, ate really runny yogurt for breakfast each day, and walked everywhere we went. We also had to be very careful not to electrocute ourselves in the shower. It was one of the happiest times of my life.
Right now, we’re camping for a week. And today some dear friends joined us, long-term missionaries to Africa, who just returned from a 9-month stay there. Unlike my short-term mission experience, these guys do the real thing. They live there. They own property there. They live like the African. And they are two of the happiest people I know. The husband’s name is Paul. Another Paul, the Apostle, the original church-planting missionary, knew about contentment as well. He wrote to the church at Philippi:
“…I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (Phil. 4:11-13).
Later, as he writes to his young protégé Timothy, he writes,
“Now godliness with contentment is great gain, for we brought nothing into the world, and we can not take anything out of the world. But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content” (1 Tim. 6:6-8).
It seems that Paul knew the secret of contentment came not, of course, from having the latest iphone. As we scratch the surface of contentment, here’s what I find from these passages:
1. Contentment is learned. Just like almost everything else in life, we simply have to train ourselves to learn the skill of contentment. I remember the first time I visited FrugalLivingNW—I was so overwhelmed I wanted to cry. What was an SS or RP insert and why on earth were they always talking about cats that rolled? I just wanted coupons, not new feline friends that could do tricks! I was so confused.
But of course, I learned. It’s taken time but now I can figure out the codes, cash in on the deals, and even roll that cat(alina) to the next transaction. Any time we learn a new skill we make the decision to invest the time to make that desired goal a reality.
In the same way, we learn contentment when we make little choices, each and every day, to be content no matter what our circumstances. And all those little choices will one day surprise us, when we discover we’ve grown into a person who is content. We have all the natural talent it takes to excel in this skill. It just takes a little practice and an understanding of a little secret.
2. The secret is God’s strength. I believe that it’s impossible to talk about growing in contentment without revealing that the secret is found in Jesus Christ. Philippians 4:13 has been misused in a million different ways. The context of the verse is contentment, not state championships. Through God’s strength, we can find the power to be content in whatever circumstances. This means that our contentment can be fixed and firm, because it is God’s desire that we are content. We can be confident in our request to Him for strength to be content.
What does this look like? It’s sad to say, but 9 times out of 10 my prayers are asking God to fix my situation so that it lines up with what I want it to be. In other words, change my circumstances so I can be happy. Instead, let’s pray for God to change our hearts so that we can be content in our circumstances, whatever they are. Yes, we still wrestle in prayer over those things with which we are struggling. But, just as Christ did in his final prayers in the garden of Gethsemene, we submit our will to God’s and pray thy will be done. God gives us the strength to make our hearts content.
3. Contentment is the greatest gain. We are bombarded, every day, with messages that feed our sense of discontent. Advertisers want us to believe that if we buy their product we will gain happiness, status, success.
Don’t buy it. Buying a bunch of stuff is not truly a gain. More often than not, the things we own own us. We are wise to remember that each purchase we make, even if it’s a money-maker, carries with it an obligation. We must then wash it or eat it or cook it or give it or house it or insure it or take care of it. Sometimes, less is more. Going without can be the greatest gain.
So I’m excited to hang out with my Africa missionary friends tonight. I’m hoping some of their contentment-with-little can rub off on me. At least I’ll be reminded that it is possible to live for 9 months without Winco or Starbucks. For now I’m thankful for the dirt in my toes and a week of living with a little less than normal. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a toy excavator with my name on it and a three-year-old ready to dig.
To Be Loved Alone: Prayer
I type this in a darkened hotel room. Heidi’s portable crib is tucked around the corner, halfway in the bathroom, so she can sleep while the rest of us are awake. On the other bed, Jeff and Dutch have been hard at work putting together a new Lego set, a sea-plane. Dutch is now narrating a detailed account in a hushed voice: “‘The plane needs to land on the runway,’ said the driver,’ but the runway is cracked, so I have to find another way…'” It’s pretty intense.
We’re on day six of a week-long vacation. We’ve been camping since last Tuesday, then today we drove to Newport for a quick 2-day beach trip including a much-anticipated visit to the Oregon Coast Aquarium. For the ocean-animal obsessed boy that Dutch is, this is the trip of a lifetime. Seeing a real octopus and shark is like flying to the moon.
This has been the best vacation our little family has ever had. I’ve seen this “loved alone” phenomenon playing out left and right. We almost always made our plans each day so that each kid could get a special experience with one of us (or with a grandparent). As a result, we had some of the sweetest experiences ever, and saw our kids deliriously happy. I’m double-convinced now that making a real effort for this one-on-one times is critical.
So how does this relate to prayer?
I recently received this comment from a reader:
If God has a perfect plan, and everything happens for a reason than I can’t see how prayer would do anything at all.
If you are praying you’re either:
1. Asking God to do what he was already going to do.
2. Asking him to go against his perfect plan.
I’m sure we’ve all had this dilemma at one time or another. I know I have.
I surely do not claim to fully understand the supernatural dynamic of prayer. But I believe this reader expresses the most common misconception about prayer. Which is, that the primary purpose of prayer is to make things happen.
Now, I do believe that God responds to prayer, and that therefore things do happen, but not in the way that is represented above. My best understanding of prayer actually comes from the little 40-pound blond-haired monkey who’s lying on the bed next to me, watching a Planet Earth documentary (to prep his little brain for tomorrow and to keep him quiet so sister can sleep :). It is through loving him alone that I understand prayer.
We pray because we are loved alone.
It’s all about relationship. Today in the car, Dutch was talking (nothing new there). Now he’s been such an amazingly good boy on this trip. And, by day six, he’s also a very tired little boy. No naps and going to bed at 10pm in a tent each night, he’s one tired little guy. As we were driving, he began talking about how he was so excited to play “little Legos” (not duplos, the real ones) with daddy while sister was asleep (he only gets to use the little ones when sister’s asleep since they’re a choking hazard). Well, of course we’re not at home and we have no Legos with us and we’re on the way to a hotel where there will be no such thing happening. But, we’d been super frugal and I had $10 of fun spending money in my wallet. So, I ran into Fred Meyer and got a bag of microwave popcorn and a new little Lego sea-plane and we were set for an entire evening of hotel-room fun. With Heidi sound asleep, they constructed that sea-plane, and here we are at the beginning of the post.
But back to Dutch talking in the backseat. There is nothing so sweet on earth as the sound of my children’s voices. Just hearing them babble is the purest pleasure. On the drive today we took a video of them singing together. Ah! Precious! I could just listen to that sound forever. Of course I don’t like hearing them complain, but hearing their soft sweet sing-song voices express their ideas, wishes, dreams, fears, songs, thoughts–there is nothing I love more. I don’t just love them in some generic sort of love. I don’t love hearing other kids’ voices. I love my kids voices because I love who they are. Unique, individual miracles of God’s creation. I love them alone, so I love hearing from them alone.
We talk to God (pray) because we love God. God speaks to us because He loves us. We don’t talk to God to tell Him something He doesn’t know. I will sit and listen to Dutch’s stories (which can be lengthy!), because they express the wonder of who he is, and by communing together we are being bonded.
We talk to God because that is how we engage in relationship with Him. And, we would miss out tremendously if we did not. This vacation again is a perfect example. There are too many instances to detail, but I prayed some very specific things about this trip–some things that might even seem silly (for a good campsite where we could be next to our family and friends), or selfish (beautiful weather). Of course I didn’t demand those things, but like Dutch sitting in the backseat, I simply wanted to tell my heavenly daddy what the dreams of my heart were. And over and over and over God answered little prayers left and right on this vacation. He gave my family and me a million little kisses to shower us with a reminder that He cares about the details of our lives and loves to be part of it all.
Does that make Him a genie? Certainly not. There are, of course, huge things in the life of my family that I wish I could change. I wish certain people lived closer, I wish certain people didn’t have illnesses, I wish certain people had babies like they so desire. And yes, I have prayed all these things to God, and have sensed and know that He is at work in some greater purpose through it all.
So where does that leave me? I will continue to pray about those big things, reassured in my daily life of God’s one-and-only love for me and my family. I might add that Dutch also expressed in the car that he was excited to see a blue whale at the aquarium tomorrow. Now that, obviously, is not going to happen, no matter how much I love Dutch. There are physical limitations in this fallen world, and there are therefore no fish tanks that hold whales the size of mack trucks. Similarly, no matter how much God might love to answer every whim and wish of ours, we live in a fallen world bound by the corruption that sin has brought. And because of that we have brokenness, disease, loss. Though He doesn’t right every wrong this very moment, He entered into our suffering on the cross, has already conquered the grave, and has promised to make all things new, wiping every tear from our eyes so that we will remember sorrow no more.
I cannot show Dutch a blue whale tomorrow, but today I will buy him a Lego set, and I will spend my life loving him alone and teaching him about Jesus, so that one day in heaven, Dutch will experience more joyful amazement than any blue whale could ever bring. I will do the little things to win his heart, and convince him of my love for him, so that he will be able to rest in my love and trust me, even when I must allow him to go through hard times. I win his heart so he will trust me even when it hurts. God does the same for us.
So, it is not about us changing God’s will. It is about telling God every hope and dream, and listening as God tells us His. There is nothing so sweet at communicating with one’s own child. If only we could know, truly know, the Father’s extravagant love for us, I think we’d find ourselves talking and listening to Him all day. We’d forget about right and wrong ways of praying, and we’d just fall in love with our Heavenly Dad.
To be Loved Alone: Parenting
Tonight has been a rare treasure. A beautiful evening that has given me a glimpse into parenting that will change the way I mother from now on. Tonight, my daughter Heidi (17 months) and I had a whole evening, just the two of us. My husband Jeff and my son Dutch (3) took part in a church service project, cleaning up a high school in an area of great poverty. Dutch marched out the door all seriousness and determination, shod with his rubber work boots and carrying a toy shovel. He also knew this whole thing included pizza at the end, so he was all in.
Now to be frank, I wasn’t super excited about a long evening at home with my daughter. She had been horribly whiny and fussy all day. Any tiny bump from brother sent her into hysterics. She’d drop a toy and melt into tears. When I set her down so I could wash dishes, she quit breathing and passed out (more on that here). So, hmm… a whole night with this little angel? Maybe we could have an early bedtime.
Boy was I wrong. She was a delight. I have never seen her so happy. We blared music and danced around the living room. She laughed these perfect peels of giggly laughter as she stood by me and bobbed up and down to the music. We sat on the floor and ate cold, juicy grapes, water and juice dripping down our chins. We did blow-bellies and took a long bath with bubbles. At one point she actually crawled up and just laid her head on my chest and cooed. Who was this little angel?
Perhaps the angel is the girl who just wants to be loved alone.
I experienced something similar with my son Dutch a few weeks back. Jeff was to accompany a group of 30 middle-schoolers on a youth group trip to Wild Waves, the giant water and theme park up in Washington. We decided that Dutch and I would join him, and Heidi would have her first slumber party, all by herself, with my parents.
The whole day was amazing. It was sheer joy for me to have an entire day with no other responsibilities than to pal around with my little man. We splashed, slid, shrieked and soaked. We swam in the big pool; Dutch jumped into my arms in the deep end. He conquered his fears and rode the train, the cars, the boats (twice!), then even mustered up the courage for the teacups (his eyes were as big as teacups!), and even insisted we ride the roller coaster that goes straight through the water (after getting soaked by something akin to a fire-hose, his eyes were huge and he asked, shivering, “Mommy, what was that?” I responded, “That was a roller-coaster, babe.” “Mommy, why did we do that?”). He overcame a bunch of fears, held his own with the big kids, and was an obedient, kind, and well-mannered little boy the whole time. Even at the 6pm, after being up and at ’em for 11 hours straight, instead of whining he just laid down on the grass, pulled a towel over his head, and tried to go to sleep. 🙂 For those of you who have followed my *ahem* challenges with this boy, you know this is a big deal!
These two experiences have me thinking. Could it be that our children just desperately want to be loved alone? To be given time, attention, and love individually. To get mommy all to themselves every once in a while? Undivided attention. Is that all it takes?
Anne Morrow Lindbergh wrote this in her book Gift From the Sea:
“If only we could have each of our children alone, not just for part of each day, but for part of each month, each year. Would they not be happier, stronger, and in the end more independent because they’re more secure? Does each child not secretly long for the pure relationship he once had with his mother…when the nursery doors were shut and she was feeding him at her breast–alone?”
I’ve heard before to spend time with each of your children, but have never understood before now just how profound that impact can be. I still remember being 6-years-old and going on a daddy-daughter date with my dad to see Aristocats. I felt like the princess of the whole world. I still remember him taking me to a minor league baseball game (and that was after I’d graduated college!). It was on that daddy-daughter date that I asked him what he thought of this guy I’d met … whose name was Jeff Patterson.
Those times are profound when children are young. Those times are profound even when they are grown. Because, is this not what we all, deep down, really crave?
The poet WH Auden wrote these lines:
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.
Don’t we all long for that? Our worlds are so big. Technology allows so many people into our sphere. What if we narrowed that sphere down, just for a time, to include only one: a child. If we regularly set aside time for one child–to shower them with the love and attention they are longing for. What would be the result?
I for one am convinced. The time may not be long, but it will be theirs. I hope and pray my children grow up and know what it’s like to be loved alone.
Home-Grown, Hand-Made
Not sure how this post will take form because I am so tired I cannot even form a coherent thought. Jeff’s so deliriously tired he inadvertently brought me a sippy cup of milk in bed. I directed him down the hall to try the other little blond person in our house.
Why so tired? Because in the midst of church activities this weekend we embarked on a yard-work marathon. Last weekend we built a 50-foot retaining wall in our yard. We carried every last stone (4 1/2 TONS of them), leveled it all, wheelbarrow-ed all the gravel. Jeff spent hours installing a special drainage system because we live on a hill. I had no idea the extent of this project. So. Much. Work.
This weekend we trenched our our sprinkler system (above), roto-tilled our entire back yard to grade it out for lawn, and then built a cedar deck onto the back of our house. My dad tilled and hauled and drove nails until his back about gave out and his right palm was one big blister. Dutch toted tools. Heidi ate dirt. We all enjoyed messy BBQ’d hamburgers and my first (and fabulously successful, I might add) attempt at homemade baked beans.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought, “If only we would’ve just hired someone to do this whole stupid yard. I’m so tired I never want to lift another retaining wall stone or 2×6 or haul another load of gravel in my life.” But, tonight as I sat on that freshly laid cedar decking, inhaling its amazing scent, and looked out over our project, I had to admit that there’s something special about doing it all ourselves.
I know we’ll look back on this summer with amazing memories. I can already imagine the conversations when we’re old and decrepit: “Remember when we were two young crazies that we built that cotton-pickin’ wall? Remember how the kids played in the dirt while we drove nails and shoveled dirt?” We’ll laugh. We’ll reminisce. And, at this rate, we’ll likely still be getting chiropractic work done on our backs. There really is something special about hand-made things.
And home-grown. That might be my very favorite thing about summer. I planted my very own garden this year. First ever. Well, first since the ground has been mine–growing up mom always let my brother and I have our own little plot of land in her big garden. I loved working in the dirt and still remember picking the fresh beans and carrots, the rhubarb and strawberries. In my garden we’re just harvesting the delicious sugar-snap peas (left). Dutch loves to stand out there and pick peas, popping them in his mouth like candy. Today during our work party we had a huge salad with baby gourmet salad greens fresh from my parents’ garden. We had had homemade baked beans–real ones that you soak overnight and cook with bacon. So good!
Earlier this week a dear woman from church dropped off 3 containers of fresh still-warm-from-the-sun, hand-picked strawberries (right: aren’t they beautiful?!). She and her kids had just picked them and she generous shared. They were AMAZING! I’d forgotten what real strawberries tasted like. I’ll admit I “picked” mine at Costco, but these were the real deal. Dutch and I polished of all three containers before the afternoon was over. We sat on the counter, next to the sink, rinsing and popping them in our mouths, gobbling and savoring the sweet perfection.
One thing I noticed. Hand-made and home-grown might not look as impressive. Check out these strawberries. One is from Costco. One is from some field out in rural Clackamas county. These were the average size of their bunch. Interesting. But, one was also infinitely tastier. A lot more work, perhaps, but so tasty!
So I’m learning to appreciate homemade and homegrown. I suppose there’s no inherent virtue in doing things yourself, and I have done a fair share of homemade attempts that have convinced me that I have some significant skill-limitations, so some things are better simply bought at a store (knitting and sewing to name a few). But I’m sure learning a lot through all of this, and I think Dutch might be too. He’s learning about gardening, building, working hard. I suppose Heidi is learning about dirt. We’re all learning the blessing of a couple advil, and when to sit down and take a rest. We’re loving family bathtime every evening, and I’m learning to ignore the brown ring in the tub. It’s a sign of a job well done.
So Happy 4th to all. This tired girl is off to bed. What do you enjoy that is homemade or homegrown? I’d love to hear as we celebrate this glorious season called Summer.
—
*Here’s also to my dad, our hero, who has labored to no end to help us in this endeavor. I started building decks with my dad when I was 15-years-old, and this is the first one we’ve done that I get to keep! I love you, daddy–thanks for being the best dad a girl could ever imagine.
Running Back and Forth: The Balancing Act of a Ministry-Mommy
Ahhhh…it’ s 7:30pm, that perfect time of day. We’re out at RiverSong for the weekend, and I just tucked my two little wonders into bed. It’s been a long and wonderfully exhausting day, the end of a long and wonderfully exhausting week. Prepping to lead an all-day women’s leadership retreat today, hosting out of town family, celebrating Jeff’s birthday, studying/preparing/teaching the High Schoolers, toting the kids to a rehearsal dinner, finishing up doing some pre-marital counseling, juggling several doctor’s apppointments, braving my monthly grocery run with kids in tow, and preparing all the food myself for the retreat (so I wouldn’t break my silly grocery budget that I made the mistake of telling all of you about!), this week was full of both ministry and mommy commitments. Now before you start commenting on how I need margin and boundaries in my life, I promise that I do. This is not the norm for us; we really don’t overbook, but sometimes things just all happen to fall on the same week and there’s nothing you can do about it, you know? What was I going to do, cancel Jeff’s birthday? No, I did cut out some other things and it was actually a fabulous faith-building week as I watched God organize, arrange, and re-arrange my schedule so that everything fit into place. The divine juggle. (And my calendar this week is virtually empty, I promise.)
But speaking of the juggle, today was a very clear picture to me of what that juggle looks like. My shift as mommy started this morning at 6:30am–bright and early since we’re away from home–when Dutch shuffled out of his room in his dinosaur jammies with a big smile and “Good morning!” I had been up since 5am finishing up last minute prep for our leadership retreat today, so he snuggled next to me while I finished my studying, then I got dressed and ready while he had conversations with his lizards in the bathtub. Then toweling off, getting dressed, and downstairs for the day.
While oatmeal cooked on the stove, I turned to the other side of the kitchen and tossed the salad for our retreat lunch. Back and forth I went: Stir the oatmeal … scurry across the kitchen … chop carrots … dish up the oatmeal … sprinkle feta … blow on the oatmeal that’s too hot mommy it’s burning my tongue… slice the bread for the lunch … fill up the sippy cup … load up all the food in the cooler for the leadership retreat. Answer the phone (we’re staying at my parent’s house while Jeff’s back home with his own ministry commitments), hold the phone in the crook of my neck while rinsing salad bowls. My sweet Jeff is sharing grand and godly advice about leadership and I’m chuckling to myself because he is talking about being filled with the Spirit and I tell him I am up to my elbows in dishwater while Heidi hangs on my legs. Don’t get me wrong–I agreed with what he was saying, I just had to laugh because in the moment being Spirit-filled means letting God give me the grace to still give Heidi blow-bellies on the floor even though I know I have a ton to do and exactly 13 minutes before the retreat ladies arrive at the cabin next door. Of course it all worked out. In fact, it was fun to hear from other moms who came to the retreat–they all had tales of hurrying home for sports tournaments, overnight birthday party sleepovers, hosting ministry events in their homes, preparing for family vacations. When it was time to calendar out the 2010-2011 mininstry year schedule, iphones popped out and eyes narrowed at the screens as we juggled ministry meetings and swim lessons and husbands’ work schedules. I’m certainly not alone in this balancing act.
But a little nugget of scripture wowed me afresh this morning, as I finished my prep for the retreat, and as I thought of this balancing act that is the life of a ministry-mommy. Like I said, we all do it. That’s why God gave us hips. We hold a baby on a hip while counseling someone over the phone, stirring dinner, mouthing “no” to a toddler sneaking a cookie, and then somehow picking up dirty laundry with our toes (or am I the only one who does that?). We often occupy two worlds. In my closet I have my “magic” jacket. It’s long and cute so no matter what I’m wearing at home–filthy t-shirt, covered in snot and spaghetti sauce–I can throw on that coat, pull back the hair in a power pony-tail and walk into the church office in some semblance of a sane woman. I love that coat… The coat is this really beautiful blue and the sleeves are puff… oops, sorry, enough about the coat. The Scripture–that’s what wowed me this morning. This is what it says of David. David was the shepherd boy, tending his father’s flocks, but he was then anointed and proclaimed to be the future king of Israel. He is then called into the service of Saul, the current king of Israel, so he serves Saul there in the king’s service, and stands with the army who is facing the Philistines in the valley of Elah. But this is what is said of him, during that season:
“David went back and forth from Saul to feed his father’s sheep at Bethlehem.” 1 Samuel 17:15
I know, not the live-changing prayer-of-Jabez verse of the century, but this just struck me this morning. David has been anointed the future king of Israel, he’s been called into the current king’s service. But, you know, somebody still has to take care of dad’s sheep! And David remains faithful to that responsibility, tending his father’s sheep. And he runs back and forth, balancing both worlds.
Now I’ve been to the Valley of Elah, where this is taking place, and I’ve been to Bethlehem. We drove a bus between the two places. We’re not talking a quick 2 minute zip in my Pilot over to the church office. This is a long run. And he did this, day after day, remaining faithful to both responsibilities. He must have gotten tired too.
Of course that was just for a season … just like being the mom of young children. I love this season, and although in some ways I’d love to just snuggle up with them and do nothing but read shark books and give blow bellies, I also know that for this season God has called me to do some juggling, just as so many of you moms are doing as well. And I get tired. And you do too. But David did too. And while I do struggle with knowing whether or not I’m doing the right thing–taking time to lead and study and teach–God’s revealed that these are my marching orders for this year, and his marching orders are always the best. Besides, I’m trusting that as I study and steep myself in God’s Word and ministry, and do so with joy and grace and balance, that Lord willing my children might just see and want to know what’s so captivating about this God of the Bible. When I was little my mom led Bible study. Because I watched her, I always had pretend Bible studies, lining up my dolls around me and reading them the Bible, which I held upside down as I babbled make-believe verses. I think I even wore pretend glasses.
So I will continue to run back and forth. At least for this season. My family is absolutely first, but I’m thankful also for the privilege of serving God in ministry to women as well. And for all of you, who juggle kids and wear numerous hats and perhaps have your own “magic coat” for those needed quick transitions, I pray for grace and strength, to run back and forth with joy.
Planted
Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree, planted by streams of water and yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers. Psalm 1:1-3
This week I am overwhelmed by God’s goodness. I’d mentioned before that April and May had me in a funk something terrible. Of course there are always a number of factors that play into those things, but one was the arrival of my 30th birthday. I know, I know–30 is still young, but birthdays always bring an assortment of mixed emotions, especially milestone ones. The emotion I was most clearly sensing was this: For my whole life I’ve been basically running at a sprint pace into the next “thing” to accomplish. College in three years, ministry training school, teaching, getting married, college ministry, moving to San Jose, moving back, finishing seminary, having a baby, having another baby, moving ELEVEN times, getting a job, selling two houses, buying a house, fixing up the house, starting in women’s ministry, run run run! Then all of a sudden, this June, when our schedule slowed and I sat back, I realized,
“Hm…this is it. I mean, of course I’ll keep running for Jesus, but I don’t have any big thing on the horizon to run toward, to strive after. I’m planted. Jeff’s a pastor, we have a house, we have our two kids, I’m doing women’s ministry. Really, everything we were working toward … we have. And now … I’m 30, and my roots are down. No more running. I can’t even run to Starbucks without 30 minutes prep of potty and shoes on and diaper change and carseats strapped and snacks packed and books in hands and sippy cups and AHH!! I’m planted to be sure! Stuck right down in the mud!”
Ok, I’m exaggerating, but sometimes when we’ve been running for so long, chasing after each new thing, it’s kind of a rude awakening to go, “Hm.. this is my life. And, it’s actually fairly ordinary.” And yes, I know, my whole passion in life is the sacredness of the mundane, right? Well the mundane just didn’t seem that sacred. It felt more like being planted in mud. There were even a few thorns to be quite frank with you.
So my 30th birthday came, and my amazing husband and friends truly overwhelmed me with love. I, who am never surprised by anything, was surprised over and over and over. What I thought was a “shark party” for Dutch turned out to be a family birthday party for 
me (complete with shark cake, check it out). The day of my birthday my best friend of 30 years (yes, we were born friends) came over for the day and brought every favorite food of mine, Izze grapefruit drinks, Food Should Taste Good chips, mango salsa, and gooey chocolate chip cookies. Then my husband surprised me by coming home early, arranging babysitting by my parents,and whisking me away for the evening. What he had done was the most amazing gift anyone’s ever given me. He created a website, for me, and had friends and family write special posts for me, for my birthday. It was unbelievable. Friends from ages ago, recent friends, family, co-workers at church … I sat there in Starbucks, sipping my decaf caramel frappucino (my birthday included a lot of calories!), and laughed until my side hurt, cried until my nose ran, shook my head in awe that my dear friends and family would take the time to encourage, love, and affirm me in that way. I was absolutely undone and overwhelmed with love.
And it showed me that roots are a beautiful thing. That being planted is the best place to be. Though all the posts were amazing to me, the ones that had me in stitches were remarkable all in the same way–they recounted innumerable memories of times shared together. Hard times, laughter, embarrassing moments, growth in godliness, epiphanies and insights, heartache and breakthrough. I was struck by the fact that most people only share those kind of memories at someone’s funeral. What a gift, an amazing gift, to get to read and revel in the joy of those memories while one is still alive!
The night finished with Jeff surprising me with an amazing Thai dinner with a few more long time friends–a guy friend of 26 years, and a girlfriend of about 22 years. Again I found myself just sitting there marveling at how rich those relationships are, those roots that go down and down and down. Roots of relationship built on Christ.
And I have new roots too, new roots in our WCC home, that I cherish and nurture and water and look forward to watching as they grow down down in Christ.
So today, in a deliriously joyful state because of the sun, I spent 
the afternoon working in my garden. This is my first garden that’s not in pots. I’ve only been able to plant things in pots because–surprise!–we moved so often. This is my first garden that’s not moving! It’s planted. My first snow-pea blossoms burst out in beautiful white today. The Bibb lettuce looks brilliantly green against the damp dark dirt. Roots are growing and flowers are blooming. I’m s
o thankful to be planted, and I pray God will help me blossom here, to bear fruit for His glory, in this season of life. I’m embracing 30, and praying that God will keep me fixated on His word, abiding in His presence, walking in His grace. Thank you so much to those of you who contributed to the precious little birthday website. You know who you are and I am overwhelmed with thankfulness that you would take the time to love me in that way.
Lord plant us. Water us. Let our roots go deep and our fruit abound, for your glory. Amen.
Breath-Holding-Spells: Never a Dull Moment
A while back a friend jokingly accused me of doing odd or bizarre things for the sole purpose of having a good story to tell. She was halfway right. I do like to tell stories. And I have been known to do stupid thi
ngs, most of which involve my hair. But my kids are really the ones I have to thank for my best and favorite stories; and up until now, Dutch was really the star. Many of you remember The Beaudreaux’s Butt Paste incident (click to read). Perhaps these pics will jog your memory:
Yes that was an adventure: “Um, sorry about your brand new carpet and brand new walls, my son just covered the entire bedroom in oil-based diaper ointment.” Thank goodness Joy is a gracious woman.
Well this last Friday Heidi decided to one-up her brother. So she quit breathing.
Friday morning (Jeff’s day off) all is well, the kids are downstairs playing, Jeff is on the phone with the backflow technician, and I’m upstairs getting dressed. Then I hear Jeff yelling my name–panicked yelling. I run downstairs and he’s holding Heidi: Blue, limp, not breathing. His voice breaks: “She’s not breathing, she had a seizure, I can’t get her to breath!” In an instant of course I grab her–she’s unconscious, totally limp, eyes rolled back, blue. I splash water on her face, he calls 911. Why didn’t I take that stupid infant CPR class?!! I start trying to breathe into her as best as I can. Seconds seem to last forever, still no breathing.
After almost 2 minutes (2 minutes feel like forever!) she begins catching tiny short breaths…please God please God… then a little cry. Of course relief washes over us and we’re praising God and kissing our girl and coaxing her to get more breaths. She breaths, cries, then goes limp and falls asleep in my arms.
By then the ambulance and fire truck arrives. The EMTs come in, I assure them she’s fine. I’m cool, calm, and collected until I hear a knock and find dear Joy standing there–she’d seen the ambulance and come right away. “She’s fine,” I say, but my voice breaks and I see tears in her eyes and I look away so I don’t crumble into her arms (which has been known to happen). 🙂
The EMTs say that even though Heidi seems fine now, they recommend transporting her to Doernbecher’s ER, just to run tests and be sure all is ok. What?! We have to go in an ambulance? So, Dutch (who was awesome through this whole thing) bravely marches off with Joy and Joel (so thankful to have wonderful neighbors and friends!), and I climb in the ambulance with Heidi while Jeff follows in our car.
Thankfully, our story ends happily. Heidi is totally fine. Apparently we just have TWO strong-willed children instead of one. Her condition, simply called Breath-Holding-Spells, apparently happens in some young children, when they get upset, cry, quit breathing, and pass out. In extreme cases they can have seizures, like Heidi did, but apparently it’s not harmful and they can’t die from it because once their bodies go unconscious they begin breathing again and they end up being fine. All Heidi’s tests came back great–100% healthy, except that she quits breathing, turns blue, and passes out.
So, never a dull moment with those two little lambs of ours. In fact, today my parents (bless them!) were watching the kids and Heidi did i
t again–lesser of course, but cried, held her breath, turned blue and passed out. Fortunately they knew not to panic and splashed water on her face and she came out of it. Sheesh! What a little monkey that one is. So here are some pics of our little princess, strapped up to the monitors, happy as a clam. I’m pretty sure I’m going to save the ambulance and hospital bills and let her devote her first 5 years of allowance to paying those off. Little stinker.
But seriously we’re just so glad she’s ok. We were not unaware of the fact that we left Doernbecher happy and relieved, and most parents do not. We are so very grateful. Our little one’s lives are so precious; I appreciate that more than ever.
And, now that I think of it, having done some pretty ridiculous things just to have a story to tell … perhaps the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. She did get an ambulance ride out of it. Hmmm.
Spiritual Immunizations & Quaint Religious Charms
I believe that the unbelieving world, as opposed to the church, can at times give us the greatest insight into what is lacking in our Christian faith. This is one of the reasons I love reading secular books (and should more often). This time, a message hit me not from one, but three angles in the past week.
Last weekend, in a great sermon on godly parenting, Joel gave an interesting illustration that’s stuck with me all week. He made the rather bold point that if we, as parents, are just giving our children a little tiny dose of Jesus we may be doing them more harm than good. We may, in fact, be preventing them from wholeheartedly trusting and following Christ as adults.
Consider immunizations. When we give someone a flu shot, we’re actually giving them what? A little tiny dose of the flu. Give them just enough and it will keep them from getting the full-blown flu. The natural reaction of the body is able to ward off and render harmless the flu virus. Is it possible to immunize our children from Jesus? Studies have often shown that those who are soured most on Christianity are not those people who have had no exposure to church and the Bible, but rather are those who, as children, either had bad experiences in the church or parents who sat in pews on Sunday but showed zero evidence of living out that faith the other six days of the week. They had a tiny dose and therefore were apparently immune to the full-blown effect of the risen Lord.
Why is this? Because a parent who models a half-hearted or Sunday-morning faith is essentially saying, “I know all about this Jesus guy and He’s not significant enough for me to actually change my life. It’s just not that big of a deal.” That, friends, is a scary message to give our children. It’s not just that we haven’t given our children enough religious experience, it’s that we’ve proven by our lives that there are no real-life implications of believing in God. Kids aren’t stupid. Why would they want to believe in something that doesn’t matter? So they abandon ship. Of course, they hold this stance only until they have their own children. Then they decide they want their children to “have religion”, so they wind up doing the exact same routine as their parents. No real faith, just going through the motions. And in these motions, another generation is immunized from faith in Christ. Frightening.
Along this same vein, a paragraph from Annie Dillard’s An American Childhood stuck out to me tonight. Dillard, a secular author, beautifully articulates this from a perspective outside of my own. Here she reminisces her fond memories of summer Presbyterian church camp:
“The adult members of society adverted to the Bible unreasonably often. What arcana! Why did they spread this scandalous document before our eyes? If they had read it, I thought, they would have hid it. They didn’t recognize the vivid danger that we would, through repeated exposure, catch a case of its wild opposition to their world. Instead they bade us study great chunks of it, and think about those chunks, and commit them to memory, and ignore them. By dipping us children in the Bible so often, they hoped, I think, to give our lives a serious tint, and to provide us with quaintly magnificent snatches of prayer to produce as charms while, say, being mugged for our cash or jewels.” (p. 134)
Did you READ that? I read it over and over. The women is a literary genius, of course, but she’s also hitting the nail on the head, and the conviction is well-earned. If our lives have not been transformed, utterly and completely transformed by the power of the gospel, then what are we doing teaching it to our children? The gospel is scandalous; its claims are spectacular, it is “wild opposition to the world”. How tragic it would be if we taught our children to study Christ’s claims, “commit them to memory, and ignore them.” Wow. Is that not what we are doing when we ourselves ignore them? Are we not then merely giving our children’s lives a “serious tint” and giving them “quaintly magnificent snatches of prayer to produce as charms”?
That is cause for fear, parents. For all Christians, for that matter. The friends, neighbors, co-workers in our lives learn about Christ the exact same way our children do--by watching us. That is reason to evaluate the way that we live out the gospel, to get on our knees and spread God’s Word before us and pray, “Do this to me! Do this to me!” We must not immunize our children from the beauty of Christ by living as if He matters little or not at all.
In the middle of all this I am also reading The Hole in our Gospel by Richard Stearns. I’d rather you read it yourself than hear me do it injustice in a summary, but in short–this one man’s life was transformed from success to significance when he put into practice the claims of Christ and followed the clear calling on his life. He boldly asserts that we will not be able to reap a harvest of souls converted to Christ until we cultivate the spiritual field of hearts by living out the gospel of love, compassion, and social justice in our world. How many thousands of lives have been touched simply because this one man decided to really act on the claims of Christ. It is humbling, challenging, inspiring.
Few of us need to learn much more. We just need to do what we know. My prayer, my goal, my personal challenge, is to obey every Word that I read each morning. That might mean reading less. 🙂 But I pray that our children would be more than spiritually immunized and have more than quaint religious charms thrust into their hands. Let’s ask God what that means for us today.
Parenting: Things that seem to work
My husband often says he was an expert on marriage until he got married, then he was an expert on parenting until he had kids. Isn’t that the truth! It’s so easy to think we know something until we’re tossed in the middle of it without a paddle. Nothing seems to reveals our lack of wisdom and expertise more than parenting. For whatever reason marriage kind of seems like common sense–don’t be selfish, put each other first, communicate, etc. etc. Parenting is a whole other beast. It often feels as though just when I get something implemented, I read or hear that I’m doing it wrong. And every person and book seems to have a different opinion. Confusing!
Well as you all know, we are right in the thick of parenting young children. Both of our children are fabulous, and both have their quirks. Heidi is an angel, but can unexpectedly get so ticked about something she cries and holds her breath until she turns blue and tips over (not kidding). Dutch is, well, Dutch. He never stops moving, talking, or testing limits from sun up to sun down. They have both captured my heart and I would do anything for them.
So since we’re in the middle of it, I know I don’t have the perspective of the older wiser moms, but here are some recent things that have been helpful to us–the things that seem to work. These are tidbits either stumbled upon in the laboratory of life, or gleaned from the older moms who have gone ahead and graciously shared their wisdom from the dirty diaper days. I figured I better hurry and write them down before I forget.
1. Fill them up first. I had this all backwards. I wanted Dutch to learn delayed gratification, so I thought I should help him understand that the family’s needs come first, then his. However, someone helped me see that if I just took the time to fill him up first (with love and attention), he’d be surprisingly satisfied and consistently behave better. This is very true with Dutch. I’ve been amazed to see that if I spend the entire morning playing, down on the floor, reading books, giving him one-on-one time, he’s better behaved all day. When Jeff gets home, if he gives all his attention to the kids, they get filled up and are less needy during the evening. (Same goes for bedtime)
2. Selfishness leads to blurred boundaries. What I mean by this is that I’ve found that when I’m walking in the middle of God’s will, in a selfless, other’s-centered manner, I am confident and clear about discipline boundaries and it’s much easier to carry them out. When I’m being selfish and just wanting me-time or I’m irritated by the kids I’m no longer freed to carry out the clear, confident,and consistent discipline my kids need. For example, there are times that I need to go to the store, very clearly because our family needs something or other, or I’m running an errand for Jeff, etc. I find that these times I’m clear, confident, consistent with expectations, and I can handle the kids well. Other times I just am irritated and tired and want to get out of the house and can’t stand another minute of playing trucks on the floor so Target sounds like a good way out. But deep down I know I’m being selfish and putting myself above my family–and that guilt prevents me from disciplining effectively because I have this nagging sense that the kids are acting out because they don’t want to be there and why should I expect them to not be selfish when I’m being selfish. See what I mean? Selfishness messes it all up!
3. Say Yes as often as you can. This was a tidbit I picked up at a parenting class last week. The speaker was making the point that we have to be 100% consistent with follow-up in discipline, so we’d better make sure that if we say “no” that we’re prepared to follow up. This means let’s make our no’s as scarce as we can (and still maintain the boundaries we desire). Save no’s for when it really counts! This has played out in the fact that Dutch LOVES taking baths with all his ocean animals. He must ask for a bath 5 times a day. Well, why not? Is there really harm in 5 baths? Want to play in the backyard in bare feet? Fine. Everybody has to get stung once, right? Want to wear your sister’s pink flowered underpants over your shorts (this was yesterday). Who cares?! There are bigger fish to fry. I’m learning to save my No’s.
4. Routine routine routine. Boy oh boy, we are so influenced by expectations, aren’t we? So much of marriage boils down to having the right expectations. Kids are the same! And, so many of the difficulties we were experiencing, I believe, came down to none of us really knowing what to expect each day. So about a month ago we started our nightly Family Routine, thanks to the initiative of my husband. Dutch loves every component and calls them all by name. Here’s how it goes: Every night we can expect (with grace extended of course) Jeff to come home in a certain time range. Then we have “Family dinner”. Dutch sets the table. We use napkins (!). Every night we have “Family dessert” after dinner, which is usually just a cookie, but we put whipped cream on top and serve it on a dish with a spoon so it looks fancy. Then Jeff plays with the kids while I clean the kitchen (happily! I’m kidded-out at this point). Then at 6:30 we have “Family Bath”–both kids in the big tub, soaking, splashing, all of us playing. Great fun. Then at 7 Heidi goes down and Dutch gets his very own special 30 minutes of “Family Snuggle”, which is Bible reading time, lessons, highlights of the day, then we all pray for each other, which is the best part of my day hearing my son in his little sing-song voice say, “How can I pray for you, Mommy?” Tonight he prayed that I would have a happy heart forever and ever. Awww…. Then the last thing is that he gets a “Shark movie” every night (a 5 minute clip off vimeo of some kind of ocean animal documentary). Then bed. Of course this is never done perfectly, but having an expected routine each night seems to help the kids immensely. And of course, it helps me immensely too.
5. Set them up for success. I’d heard this before, but it’s really starting to click. This obviously doesn’t mean we always make things easy for kids, but we give them the tools they need to succeed. A friend was sharing that every week before church they go over, with their son, what he can say if he’s having a hard situation in his preschool Sunday school class. So now, on the drive to church we go through all the scenarios: “What do you say and do if someone takes your train? What do you say if you want another snack? What do you do when Teacher asks you to sit down? What do you do if someone hits you?” I’m surprised how much Dutch likes doing this. And of course it melted my heart when I overheard a boy say something naughty and Dutch said, “Please don’t say that. You don’t have to have be sad.” Ok sorry, that was bragging–usually my kid is the one being naughty so just let me boast for half a second!
This has really been huge–giving Dutch “life secrets” for how to make things go better. There is no better feeling that seeing Dutch actually use some of these life secrets and enjoy those little confidence-boosting successes. Go Dutch!
6. Mean what you say. It’s so easy to just blab something when I’m frustrated, without thinking it through beforehand. This takes so much energy, but it’s so worth it–to mean what you say! Of course this mostly plays out in discipline. If I say no but then change my mind after he whines, I’m teaching him that I don’t really mean what I say (and am training him to whine). But this doesn’t just play out in discipline. How often have I said, when Dutch is asking me if I’ll read a book, “Yes, Dutch I’m coming!”, when all the while I’m really hurriedly wiping the counters or making quick cup of tea or trying to sweep the floor. If I’m coming–I better come. If I’m making tea before I come, then I need to say, “Dutch, I’m making a cup of tea and then I will be there.” Otherwise he won’t listen to what I say because my words don’t mean anything.
So these six things have been immensely encouraging to us in our daily work of training, shaping, loving, and shepherding our two little lambs. If you have a golden nugget of wisdom that has carried you through the early parenting years, I’d love to hear it. Another piece of advice was to get plenty of sleep, so I’m off to bed. Goodnight.