Knowing our children - part 2

Family movie night just ended and the boys are splashing in the jacuzzi with their dad.  But I'm still leaking, deep heart tears from my eyes.  

The last time I watched Rudy I was 19; so full of dreams, so much the underdog running out onto the field of life.  It inspired me then, but tonight my heart beats to the dreams of three little men; their butts lined up in a row on the orange couch.  FAMILY written on the area rug at their feet, covering the ground between us and the TV screen.

Halfway through the movie our middle boy dripped chocolate ice cream on that rug and I ran for a rag and mopped it up quick.  Then the movie went on, just like our lives, so quickly with children under the roof; mopping up messes and barely getting through the practical moments of mothering to catch the dreams beginning to stir in their hearts.

Once our boys were dry again and in their PJ bottoms, (because I've heard that until they're 12 a summertime swim is as good as a shower), my husband and I called them back to the couch.  We began our family meeting with, "We want each one of you to take a moment and think about what you want to be when you grow up.  Maybe it's something that will take years and years of hard work to achieve.  Maybe, like Rudy, everyone will tell you that you'll never make it!  But if you could do anything... what would it be?"

The younger two were wiggly and giggly, punchy from that late night scoop of frozen sugar, and maybe not quite ready for such weighty conversations.   So I sent them to bed, and thought of the sign hanging in the tree fort their daddy built them:

"Always be who you are,

unless you can be batman.

Then always be Batman!"

I am sure those two fell asleep dreaming of Batman.  But that older boy, now 10, stayed with us.  After a minute he said what I knew he would.

"I want to be a professional guitar player."

Lucky for him he has some natural ability,

so we talked about dreams,

and started to set some goals.

   

We're sending our other kids to a private school this year, at least that's the plan, but our big guy is home-schooled.  Which means we have the freedom to individualize his learning to include goals that will help him achieve his longterm dreams.  For example, this year his dad and I told him that he must master 4 songs, on at least two instruments each (guitar, vocals, drums, harmonica, piano...) And when he does, we'll pay for him to go into a real recording studio to lay 'em down!

" I don't homeschool my children to protect them from the world, I do it to give them the world." -Monica Leigh @ Pixel Perfect

In other words, homeschooling allows us to tailor our children's education around their unique passions and strengths. But it takes knowing our children.

His Faith

One other thing I know to be uniquely God woven and true in the heart of this child is his innate passion for God's Word. It's kind of crazy, really. Don't put me on any pedestal.  I read all the stuff Christian parents should do to help cultivate this love for the Bible in the hearts of their children, but we haven't done any of it consistently. Or well, truth be told.  I'm usually grumpy when I finally do coral our boys to read the Bible together. Yet still, when I go to tuck him into bed, there He is with his Bible spread open. Reading that story of David and Goliath for the millionth time! Looking up, he says, "Here's my favorite part, Mama, 'Then David asked, who is this uncircumcised fellow who dares defy the army of the living God?'"  And he smiles.

Holding his future with open hands

As we craft time into his studies for Music and Bible Study, I'm challenged to hold his future with open hands.  I don't know if he will go the traditional route of a four year university like we did.  He may be drawn to a Music Conservatory or a Bible College.  And I'm feeling a stir in my heart, readying me for something different than I would orchestrate for him.  But master planning is God's job, not ours.  Ours is to know them well, and help them see the bullseye their creator has staged for them.   Let's commit to know them, that we might send them flying, straight as arrows, to hit the center of God's glorious plan for each little life.

 For (they) are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for (them) to do. (Ephesians 2:10)

*One last aside - Sweet Mamas, I am by no means saying that homeschooling is the only way to faithfully carry out this knowledge. It is just our current way of doing it for our one of ours. Another of our other children clearly needs a traditional classroom setting to help him prepare for the special good works that lie ahead of him.

baptized by my child

Hustle, Hustle, grab your shoes, gotta make it to church on time!

This Mama's glossed lips and sweet smelling perfume can't cover the simple fact:  Satan loves to stir up confusion in Christian homes on Sunday mornings.  When Mama's herding her family out the door for church, there's short patience with short people,  hurried makeup and hair, and the dishes from breakfast stacked in the sink.  Little boys missing socks, my big man missing us, as he waits in the car with a honk, honk, honk.  We finally topple out the front door and he points to our middle child, with hair sticking sideways.  I shrug and push them all forward toward the car with a pinched up angry  face, then run back inside for my Bible.

Sunday morning Chaos!

Especially that first Sunday of each month, when we keep the boys from their Sunday School class' and bring them into "Big Church" with us.

First Sunday is more than just 12 chances a year to learn to sit still and listen to deep teaching.

First Sunday of each month is confessing together that Jesus is Lord, in the breaking of bread.

First Sunday is communion.

As the silver tray is passed down our pew the boys' eyes go wide with anticipation.  They think it's fun, such a treat.  And it is, they will find, as they mature in faith.  Such a joy to remember God's best gift to us. So I lean in close, as they take the little piece of bread and the tiny plastic cup of grape juice, and I remind them to wait until everyone's been served.  And as we wait, the littlest licking his bread when he thinks I'm not looking, I whisper to our oldest, "This is God's body, broken for you. And this is God's blood shed for you. We do this every month to remember God's gift of Salvation. How He died on the cross to pay for your sin and mine.  We do this because we are so thankful." Just down the row my husband is whispering this communion truth to our second born.  Then I turn to find my little guy, just six, now dipping his finger into his cup, smiling 'cause it's a foretaste of heaven.

He sees me then, and pulls his finger away,

back to his lap, caught in the act.  

But as he does his communion cup spills.  

Red.  On my white slacks.

I want to scold, but by God's Grace I smile instead, and whisper, "This is God's body, broken for you. And this is God's blood spilled for you."  Then I exchange his empty cup for mine and he smiles.  And I realize, this picture of Grace is the communion truth we preach.  Forgiveness, because we've first been forgiven.  Patience, because our Father in heaven is so patient with us.

Baptized by my child with this Communion Sunday truth.

This picture is one of my most treasured.  My child, with a tattoo on his cheek and a princess ring on his finger, bowing his head at VBS, praying his little sinner's prayer.  Fully child.  Confessing faith.   We often debate when to baptize our children, and when to invite them into communion, and when we can be convinced of their salvation.  But in their childlike faith, even before there is fruit to be seen in their young lives, they are the picture of what God says is heaven-worthy.

And he said: "Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:3)

Let us stop obsessing over the fruit we long to see in our children's lives, and start focusing instead on baring fruit in our own.  In our homes, and in our cars, and on our pews each Sunday morning.  Communion truth, isn't passed down the pew, it's passed down from parent to child.  Then spills back over from child onto parent.  Baptized.

If you snapped at your children on the way into church yesterday, and brought them home with even less grace... God's grace is still extended to you.  And he's willing to take your spilled communion cup and exchange it for a fresh measure of forgiveness and strength.

Believe it today, and preach it back to me lest I forget.

Considering Bumps and Joy

Can I quote a reader's email to me and call it a post?  Because it's so rich, and she's so good to share, having walked this mothering road before me by 20 years.  In response to the bouncing we've done, from homeschool to private school and back home again, and the courage I'm mustering, Margo wrote this:  

Dear Wendy….I hear you loud and clear…we all want a smooth ride.

I remember when our boys were young we had space and the option to keep some rabbits. What fun for the boys and I! We had trouble with a couple of the bunnies fighting, however. Did some research and tried what was suggested. Put the two rabbits together in a cardboard box for a drive on a bumpy road. This disturbance required them to take comfort in each other and thus became a bonding experience. It worked! I'm sure you can make some spiritual applications for yourself with this whether you are bonding with each other or bonding with our God Who is so trustworthy.

Absolutely!  Thank you.  And Yes Please.  We need this picture of how God purposes our bumpiest roads, to land us closer to His heart, and the close knit heartbeats of our loved ones.

Another reader sent me an email after that same bumpy post, saying that her family had also hit another patch of rough.  But they landed on the beach for an overnight camping trip. Close together as a family of four.  Round the camp fire, then cuddled up in a tent. Bonding.  And because I know this woman personally, I know each bump rocks and tosses her closer to The Lord as well.  Camping out with Him.

Bouncing closer to one another,

and smack dab into the palm of His kind hand.

         The two most comforting places on earth.

But how we hate the bumps, nevertheless.  And we fight them.  But fighting only intensifies the pain.

Let us give into the pain, like we do during child birth.  When we know it's time to push, and we press down hard, saying "this is going to be excruciating, but I'm going to ride it to the other side".  And there, past the pain, is something beautiful.

God's doing something as we labor through hard.  As we lean in and relax and trust, amidst the searing pain.  He's developing in us perseverance, and character,  and hope that will endure long after the labor is done.  And that's beautiful.  That's the bouncing hard but landing soft experience of God's faithful hand.

And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. (Romans 5:3-5)

Again and again I'm turning to these thoughts of hard days and seasons,  illness', diagnosis', my own weakness' and life, with a joy filled perspective, because I see that God ordains each bump for our good and His glory.  Much of it we won't understand until we see it from His vantage point.

But today I remember, His Vantage point is love.

Sitting here today, considering bumps and joy, wishing I could pour you a cup of tea and keep this dialogue rolling.

I'm so thankful for your comments and emails.  Because we learn in conversation.

Halfway through summer

I'm halfway through so many things. So many books, so many dreams. Halfway through so many conversations with other moms, interrupted.

Halfway through baby books, though they're not babies anymore!

Halfway through growing kids here in our home, from the first one's birth to the last one's exodus.  Halfway done with this marathon, though every day seems a sprint.

I may even be  halfway through my own life; from first cry to last exhale, only God knows the day.  Halfway through.  If I were a man I'd buy a red corvette.  But I'm a woman, so I diet and shake my fist in gravity's face.  But that's another topic for another post.  Because today the fact we're halfway through summer is what stops to give me pause.

Halfway through summer.

Halfway through summer, halfway through the slow rhythm of reconnecting after the busyness of the school year.  Halfway through brown hair turning blond, and white skin turning brown.  And I laugh because their eyebrows look like a clown's white paint against dark faces, and we're only halfway through summer.

There he is smiling, flying across the back yard blue, with the pool a mile beneath him; flying free and enjoying every day.  He towels off and returns to the cool wood floor in his room for more Lego fun.  Brothers follow and finally grow tired, so they ask for a show.  The credits roll and they're back in the pool again.  And I've run out of lemons, so I'm buying lemonade rather than sugar to make our own, halfway through summer.  And the beat goes on... and on and on... which is why we're already halfway through summer.

And halfway to fall.

Homeschool curriculum and dreams for the coming school year.  I didn't sign my oldest up for football in time, and he's upset and I'm sad for him.  And my youngest is reading his way through Dr. Seuss, and will have mastered each line of Sam I am and Go, Dog, Go by the time 1st grade arrives.  We're halfway through summer and halfway to fall and I'm already thinking about pumpkin muffins and Christmas cards.

Oh slow down life, and slow down me, and slow down you!  We committed already to slow down, and say YES  to Summer, but now it's halfway through and I want to slow it down even more and say Yes to living fully in each of the moments I've already said Yes to.  Because that's where I'm prone to get lost in life, and marriage, and mothering.  I say yes to bless, and then never stop to enjoy the blessing.

Each light refracting moment caught in a water drop that hangs from the ear of my son, as he pulls his sinewy little boy body from the pool.  Each sweet morning bed-head-hello, indulging in the slow school-less rhythm of life together.  Windows open in the cool hours of morning, as they follow their father out to shoot bb's at the haystack, "Good Morning, Life!" each shot rings out.

Halfway through summer!  Halfway through freckles, peanut butter sandwiches and watermelon dripping from dimpled chins.  Halfway through these young, soft-skinned years.  Halfway to three licenses and three first dates.  Halfway to College and a dorm room filled with friends we don't know.  Halfway to an empty nest, and summers filled with silence.  Halfway to that.

So today I recommit to being fully present.  To live "halfway through summer", because that's where God has me today.

This is where God has me.

My husband built a tree fort

My husband built a tree fort out of diamonds.  Those Big Dipper Diamonds Dripping Down on our home when he lost his job and I remembered faith.  

Jehovah Jireh, The Lord Provides.

Shaken out and raining down.  I thought those sparkling stars represented how God would provide for our financial needs.  But in my nearsightedness I did not know how abundantly, beyond all I could ask or imagine, He would provide for the heart needs in our home.  Far more star studded gems than I had known to pray for, spilling out and overflowing onto the dry ground,  landing in a mound of tools and lumber.  So my husband built a tree fort out of those diamonds, in his unemployment.

Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen. (Ephesians 3:20-21)

Our vantage point is so small, not vast as His view from the Big Dipper looking down, so we can't grasp the scope of His riches.  Not just to provide what we will eat and drink, and what we will wear... but  the breadth of how He will bless and grow and heal us.  His vantage point is love, and His love is boundless and immeasurable.

I did not know, so I simply asked for enough.  Enough money to cover bills.  Enough severance to cover unemployment.  Enough peace to cover anxiety. But He gave more, a diamond "yes" in each shaving of saw dust.

As the stars poured down, the Holy Spirit descended carrying more than enough, calming my husband's heart and giving him a vision for his days at home. Each morning he came to the breakfast table rather than taking a conference call or heading out to the airport, running off to provide for us.  As God provided, my husband rested in our breakfast nook and bowed his head to pray.  He asked the children about their toys and me about my dreams.  So very present.  Then headed outdoors and connected with us there, connecting in ways he's usually too busy for.

And I wonder if The Lord purposed this unemployment as a gift.  Shaken out, poured down, anointing the trial to bless.  Sanctified it, set it aside to set our family aside.  Sanctified each day of unemployment as holy; to do a holy, wholly good work between husband and wife, and father and child.

How often we think the Lord is at work in the blessing and giving. But God is also at work in the taking away. Its beyond me when health and loved ones and financial security are shaken and taken. But God is at work, pulling us away from the world and into Him. Away from busyness and into relationships with one another. Away from health and into dependence.  Away from pride and into humility.  Away from building our kingdom to refresh our desire for His.  He is a good gift-giving God.

 God's vantage point is Love!

If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him! (Matthew 7:11)

My in-laws came from Texas to San Diego for a week of togetherness.  For five of those days Papa worked with My Honey.  The youngest grandson always close, pulling nails from old lumber.  Nana bringing a steady supply of iced tea and lemon bars.  The older two boys rounding the corner with Cousin Alex each half hour, dripping with pool water, to see how the construction is coming along.  But the youngest stays nearby, watching his dad pick up each two by four and nail it to the tree.

The posts went down deep, secure.  Platform, walls, roof, windows and skylight went up next.  Nana rocks against each post to make sure the structure is secure and my husband rolls his eyes.  Tonight, as they wrapped the treehouse in siding, the sun went down.  The moon came up and my littlest child shimmied up the ladder,  calling to show me his view, this side of heaven.  There behind him, framed in middle of the skylight, hung the half moon.  And I wondered, How many nights will the boys lie in their fort, watching that moon waning and waxing, move across their 2 x 3 slice of heaven?  And will the big dipper cross their path? And will they talk of their creator in the quiet of this fort?

The ancient of days knew what He was doing when He formed each planet, moon and star; each marriage, family and home.  The Lord built it all.  A carpenter on earth.

And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.  (2 Corinthians 9:8)

 God's vantage point is love.

And His love is boundless and immeasurable.