Life on the kitchen floor

I found myself sitting on the floor at night in the little refrigerator room off my kitchen this weekend (#smallkitchenproblems) helping two of my small children with big life problems.

15 min after telling them to get ready for bed, I found my six year old hiding on the floor behind the door with her head in her lap crying. I sat down with her and wrapped my arms and legs around her. She proceeded to tell me how she was tired. She was tired of being the best in her class. That her friends always want her to be the leader. That she needs to be the best. They come to her for answers. She feels as if she is the center of the energy that everyone depends on. Between sobs, she confesses,

"Mama I don't want to be the best. I don't want the attention. I don't want the boys to like me or my friend to want to be like me. I don't want to be the leader, I just want to be me. Why isn't just plain me enough? I am tired."

Whew.

I think it is important as parents that as our children bring their hurt to our laps, that we don't immediately question it. This is real pain to my little one. I need to FIRST make sure she knows she is heard. That she is held. That she has a safe place to fall apart and won't be punished or shamed or dismissed. And PLEASE DON"T RUSH THIS. Sit in the uncomfortable and hurt and pain. Hold and be there with them. After a few moments I said,

"Baby, did you want to just tell mama because it was bothering you, or would you also like help finding a solution? What do you need from me?"

"I just wanted to tell you. It was bothering me."

"That is absolutely OK. Would you mind if I thought on it a bit so in case you change your mind and you want to find a solution, I might have some ideas later?"

"Yes mama. Telling you and being with you already makes it better."

A kiss. A squeeze. And she was off to get ready for bed.

Outside the door was my sweet 11 year old who feels big things. He then entered my temporary "office" and we sat on the floor, (Seriously I should wash this floor more often if I'm gonna keep having therapy sessions on it!)

I have tried reading between the lines lately with him and seeing signals and warnings of things he might be struggling with. Drinking seems to be a trigger for him lately and he had made an off handed comment that night about alcohol and being out of control. I had him sit with me so I could find out where it was coming from. If an incident had occurred and he didn't tell me.

As we sat and started talking, he couldn't really point to an event that happened. He doesn't like things being out of control. He has had some dreams and some kids at school tell stories, but all of a sudden he started to get physically upset. As his eyes started to become wet, and tears struggled to fall, his confession came.

"Mama, I am scared living here. I'm sorry. I feel sad saying it, but I get scared a lot and I don't know what to do about it. You and dad grew up in nice areas and your family was all around. It feels safe and fun and easy. I want that. I don't want to make you feel bad, but I'm scared here."

And my heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces falling from my eyes to join my son's on our hands that were clasped together, now wet from his fear and my guilt.

We sat there in our pain.

Just sat.

Hurting.

Holding each other.

Not rushing.

"I hear you." I whispered.

"I see you and I hear your fear. It is real and you have nothing to feel bad about it. It is so incredibly hard to be a child who has to live with the decisions your parents make. When your dad and I moved here, we couldn't afford anything else. We only had enough money for here. And sweetheart, we don't know if we could go somewhere else now, but God has kind of put a passion and love for this place in our hearts. I don't know how to hold our purpose being here and your pain together without hurting someone. We don't want to hurt you, or ignore you, or dismiss you and your very real fear at the expense of everyone else.

I don't want you hurt. I don't want you to grow so comfortable with fear that you don't know joy and peace and safety. I want you to be able to trust and be generous with yourself. I don't want our choice to hurt you. Oh baby, but I hear you."

"Thank you. I think I just needed to tell you."

I don't know much. I struggle with living in the paradox of purpose in community and purpose in family. The conflict of self and others. The tension of how to hold all things dear close to my heart where sacrifice is often required. No one ever told me how to parent, especially in racial, cultural, societal, global, religious, low income ridden, abusive, violent tension.

Thing is, living in the neighborhood that has a stereotype of being "the worst place to live" in the Twin Cities due to high violence, crime, and limited access and support to programing brings a unique set of challenges and strain. It is the neighborhood you turn your eyes from. The people that you can easily dismiss. The poverty you can ignore.

North Minneapolis is literally on the "wrong side" of the highway, the river and the railroad tracks. Historically, traditionally, and currently, North's narrative is one of minority oppression and neglect. It is a place to house all the folks and the problems that make life messy, because you know, they look different.  Our white story here is not the same as the story of being black in the inner city, but we live on the same block on the wrong side of right apparently. The tension and injustice is real and we have found deep and profound insight, wisdom, and knowledge of what their journey means and how to walk alongside in the fight for justice and equality.  

So we are simply just trying to live in this place and raise our children with a heart for mercy and justice, but that includes exposure to all the hard, complicated struggles of poverty. And that stress is real.

So I held him and prayed my words out over him. Begging for peace and God's stronghold on his heart to be stronger than anything else. To allow God's truth of mercy and compassion and love to be stronger than anger and fear and resentment. I prayed for boldness in speaking out, for confessing all things in safe places. I prayed that God would keep us as ally's for one another. That my son would know that God is for him and his dad and I will never abandon him. I prayed for a spirit of strength in wisdom and kindness. I prayed and wept all the words I knew over him.

I wish I could tell you that the tears disappeared and immediate peace fell over us. When my young son looked up at me, his eyes still wet, I'm not sure it was peace I saw, but maybe acceptance. A mutual understanding that I can't fix this problem, but I am in it with him. I can't make it go away, but we can sit on our gross floor together. We can eat cookies together. We can pray and cry together. We can play together. We can be in it together and hopefully over time, as we never cease in praying for deep soul inner peace, that one day when we wake up, we might feel that.

Until then, you can find me on my kitchen floor.

Please note: Before you all judge me for parenting technique, or the choices we make for our family, know that one never really walks in someone else's shoes. We only ever see each another's journey from the outside. I choose to believe that most of us are simply just trying to do our best. I ask that you credit me with the same respect.

And our lives are always changing, we as humans are always changing, and as a family, and as parents, Paul and I will continue to be faithful to each other, to our family and to our faith in how we make our choices. With new information, new fears, new circumstances, all these things are taken into consideration. We will always try hard and do our best for these children and our marriage that we have been gifted with. We do not take that responsibility lightly. 

Thank you for being on this journey with us, and thank you for being kind in your response. (That was my passive aggressive way of saying, please don't be a jerk in your comments.) *wink

A little life update from the Tietjen's

So... I never send Christmas cards. Even though I love getting them, but we haven't ever actually sent one out. And now that its WAY past time, and I couldn't even write a Christmas blog, I just decided to give a little family update here. And NOT call it a Christmas card. or an epiphany card, or whatever else. Just a simple, "Hey, here's what the Tietjen's are up to!" kind of card. I mean post. 

I am also including the photos we had taken of our children FOUR months ago and only now just got around to getting together. I mean, these beautiful faces have been locked in the computer for months. They aren't online, or printed or nothing. Nope, this girl right here actually convinces her housemate to take his nice camera, do a quick photo opp with the kids and then sits on it for months. Because yeah, I am apparently that lazy? busy? unmotivated? tired? feel like the pictures are for me so who really cares anyway? Who knows, it's probably a combo of all the above. But here they are, and who knows, now that I gotten this far, I MAY just be motivated enough to get them printed. 

Did you know we don't have any pictures printed and framed in our house of our family? Seriously, I am the worst. 

And these kids should live in a frame. They are the pieces of my heart that live out loud in the best way. They are uncontainable in their passion, fierceness, ideas, creativity, demands, energy, and kindness and frustrations (mostly at each other). You never have to ask them what they are thinking or feeling, they share it all with essays of words. (You can't have two parents who communicate as much as Paul and I and not grow three kids who are just as passionate at communicating.)

Paul and I continue to grow as parents (and spouses) in our knowledge, understanding, learning from mistakes, insight and time with these kiddos. They keep us challenged and humbled. Noah is the protector of the bunch, Caleb the inventor, and Lu our helper. Their hearts are big, their minds are always wondering and their bodies always wanting to explore. For us, we find it critical to learn how to teach them good practices that will help them stay that way. How do you care for yourself and others in a way that respects all life and gives glory to God? This is a guiding theme for us. 

Oh Noah. He is known among his friends as the "Hype Man". His passion serves him in uplifting his teammates, classmate and friends. He is a fierce lover of reading, football, baseball, basketball, legos, spoken word, hip hop, and his family. I can't believe he is 11 and in the 5th grade at Yinghua Academy, which he LOVES. Noah thrives with the Chinese language. Noah's football team also won the championship this year and it was well celebrated. He continues to grow and yet still remains this sweet, innocent young boy who loves to be silly, snuggle and cook with me in the kitchen. 

Aaahhh Caleb. Where I find it easy to describe my other two children, this one just can't be defined in any one word. He has this natural ability for learning, knowledge, reading, math, science, foreign languages, creating and inventing and basic athletic skill. He is wise beyond his years, has a voice that can be heard across town, loves to laugh and play. He makes difficult tasks look easy, he forgives faster than anyone I know, and wants to know everything. Caleb also played football for the first time this year, and also joined the baseball and basketball team. 

Both boys play for our neighborhood leagues and also participate in the local Boys to Men Club which give them a space to hang with their friends, learn life skills, earn some money and volunteer in the neighborhood. 

And then there was her. Eleanor. She is so goofy, and incredibly kind. I have never met anyone who is so concerned for the well being of others quite like this little one. She loves her stuffed animals, her brothers, reading, puzzles and all things artistic. She hasn't started any extra after school activities, but her time will come. She is thriving at Yinghua and loves speaking Chinese. This spunky brave little girl is growing at a rate I am not completely happy about. While I can't wait to see what an incredible woman she will be, I am taking every opportunity to sew, color, do puzzles and snuggle with this little bean. 

Paul and I continue to do what we do. We still live in our little bungalow on the bluffs of the Mississippi with our community garden project right next store. Paul is in his sixth year at Ameriprise which affords him the ability to travel with his band 100 White Flags. This past year Paul also started his three piece blues trio, GOBO which has played a few local fairs around town. He also took the time to help coach Caleb's football team, and assist with Basketball. And for Paul it was a year unmatched as both his Bronco's and his Cubs won their championships in 2016. Needless to say, sports took over a bit over here. Whoa.

I continue to travel and speak. This summer was full of great gigs including the National Youth Gathering, Luther Hour Ministries, and the adult gathering on Mackinaw Island. I love writing for Gatherhaus, an online community that promotes intentional living through simplicity and purpose, and our local paper. I am also working on two new book projects which will hopefully final first drafts this year which I will pitch to publishers. I started working at the kids school two hours a day to bring in a steady income. It's not much but I can't believe how much it eases the pressure of my works of passion. Writing is not a lucrative career, and the anxiety of turning it into one was too much for me last year. Now, I am able to approach my work with the question, "What do I need to say?" NOT "How can this make money?". This distinction is critical to my creative process and the integrity of my work. I have already discovered profound peace in my work with this shift. 

And though the Garden may appear to by my project, it really is a family/community investment. I am honored to be apart of it, proud of what it is becoming, and love my time in that space. We strive every year to grow and improve our outreach and effort. We hosted multiple events last year, grew a TON of food and experienced high community engagement. We are confident this year will be no different.

Thank you all for doing life with us. For following us on this journey. For your interest, your kind words, your time in the garden, showing up for the kids games, donations to our ministry, and booking either Paul's band, or me to speak at your event.  No man is an island, and what good is our heart and soul if we can not share it with each other. 

May we all continue to grow in knowledge, wisdom, understanding, love and compassion. And hopefully in that, be challenged to participate in the restorative and justice work of humanity showed to us by Christ Jesus. 

Happy New Year!

Non-Pinterest Chore charts and Payouts

I kind of just wish I could just blink my eyes and my kids would know how to do chores, manage their money and never complain about helping. I would have magically somehow found a way to have bread three Mother Theresa's.

Chores and Allowance and Volunteering are all things that I want my children to have a healthy relationship with. Not OCD, or hoarding or laziness or compulsion.  I want them to understand these things, respect them, and give them their right place in their life. 

Unfortunately, this knowledge isn't something they just have. Seriously, out of everything else, I wish I could buy this knowledge for them, or give it to them like a vitamin every morning ensuring they were responsible people who were capable and able of great things. 

Bummer.

In the past we have been really, really bad at following through on chores and paying an allowance. We are sporadic at best, consistent never. As I look at how quickly my children are growing and they currently don't posses skills, in my opinion, they need to be moderately adjusted adults. Heck, I want them to be moderately adjusted people always, even teenagers. So... that means this summer became our responsibility training. For all of us. Me included. 

One of the reason Paul and I haven't jumped on the allowance band wagon is we were really struggling to figure our way through it. I am all about kids learning how to manage money and the easiest way to do that is by giving them a allowance. However, we also strongly believe that if you live in the house, then you are responsible to help out. No financial gain. You eat the food, you help clean up. You make the mess, you clean up. We are a team and it is not the responsibility of the parent to assume all of the chores and cleaning and organizing. This is unfair to the parent and most unfair to the kids who never learn how to take care of their things or themselves and live as a community or team.

Then there is the issue of being a team player, but also having some set chores that are elective in choosing to earn extra money. More than this is the fact that I want my kids to learn about volunteering their time without asking for money if they help weed the community garden.

With all of these issues, and the fact that I have a son who needs to know every little detail about every guideline so he can manipulate himself around it and find the loop hole, I decided to write down all of our chores along with our expectations. Gheezzz. it seems excessive, but there is small part of me that likes having it all spelled out on our door so that there is no question about what we expect. 

We broke it down into three different categories:

Family Chores: These you do because you are a part of this team and we live, work, and love together. Because we each take up space in this house, we each are expected to pull our weight in pitching in.

Allowance Chores: The kids have a daily chore they must accomplish without complaint. If they consistently complain, we can withhold payment. I HATE complaining. (Wait, I think I am complaining..)

Community Involvement: Much like our family chores, we live in this neighborhood and the garden and garbage walks help better our neighborhood. We do this because we have pride in where we live, and we want to do our part to take care of the place we live. We live by example. We do not get paid for volunteering. 

I am hoping this will clear up our confusion and expectations. That my kids can go to the board and know what to do. Starting this in the summer allows us time to teach them how to do these chores properly and allow them time for this schedule to become a habit before school starts. 

I will be honest. I am not super excited about all the time this will take on my end to teach them about saving money, how to manage it, and put some way for donating. Or the time it takes to teach them how to clean a bathroom or vacuum out a car. 

BUT...

I would really like to send equipped adults into the world. I want my sons and my daughter to show respect for their things, know how to clean, and have some organizational skills under their belt. More than that, I really want my children to have a healthy relationship with money. To learn how to save it for multiple purposed instead of spending it right away. To learn how to wait and save for the toy they really want, and not spend money they don't have.

Again, if there was a pill that I could give them that would this work for me, I would buy it in a second. I would even donate plasma to make sure we could afford it. Alas, it does not exist, and so our current future looks like we are learning how to be responsible.

Paul and I too, since we have to make sure we follow through and they learn these learn. 

Here is what our overall door looks like now. Meal schedule, daily check list to get screen time, and chores. Whew. Who has time to do chores when making all the signs took this long?

A Birthday Disaster

Let's take a minute, (or 10 since I have lots of words with this being my second cocktail and all tonight) and reflect on my weekend. 

We had a community garden tree planting event and two birthday parties to throw. It didn't sound too difficult.

Friday night Paul was out with a friend. so I did minimal cleaning to prepare for the party. By that I mean I put all the embarrassing things away, but let the vacuuming, sweeping and dishes get the best of me. I claimed I was inspired and wanted to write, so I headed to my room with my laptop in hand, settled into bed. I think I wrote four sentences, got distracted by Facebook and then fell asleep. 

Due to that great responsible move, Saturday morning left me hours behind in prep. While ignoring my kids plea for breakfast, I threw a load of laundry in, put clean dishes away and then realized I was supposed to make a gluten free pastry for our friends who were coming to help plant apple trees in the community garden. I hadn't even made Middle's birthday treat, so there was no way a breakfast pie was happening. At that moment of realization, our neighbors showed up with breakfast in hand to come help plant. I threw on the clothes that were heaped on the floor, because I had worn them yesterday and opened the door with a smile. Having no gluten free option available, I brought forth grapes, and then didn't even end up washing them, but had my neighbor do it. My patheticness took over in that moment. 

Once everyone was assembled, we went outside to plant and that's when we saw a crew of Whole Foods volunteers come to plant the trees that they donated to the garden. With more people than were necessary, we decided to move our effort to cleaning the garden, which turned out to be the smartest move I made all weekend, considering all the x-rated items and glass we pulled from the dirt. Don't want the kids finding those things!

After the cleaning and planting had commenced, it was time for a quick lunch and party prep. Oh yeah, I still hadn't made Middle's birthday treat or decorated. So as the clock struck 1pm and the first friend showed up while Paul and our oldest were putting up streamers. (The only reason we were doing that was because I bought special streamers for Little's birthday party the next day which ironically never went up and I didn't want Middle to think I would decorate for her and not for him. Got to have it fair and even right?) While the streamers went up, I was still mixing the ice cream that was supposed to be frozen over night. But me? Oh no, I was going to be serving it in exactly 1 1/2 hours. Yeah, I was winning over here. No birthday treat, (the ONLY thing we are serving mind you) the bathroom is disgusting, there is garden dirt all over our floors and that is when I realized that we don't have a birthday present for our daughter. Who we are celebrating. The. Very. Next. Day.

So... the first party has started, barely, and I sent my husband away to go buy the bike she was getting from her grandparents who live far away, and a special stuffed animal from us. I am left with the couple of friends who Middle invited, a few of the siblings who decided to stay and the neighborhood kids who joined us. Seriously, it was like I was standing in some weird multiplying machine. I had kids running around the house, running outside the house, and running in our neighbors yard. They were waving sticks and lightsabers and screaming and playing and fake dying all over the ground. I had coffee brewing, the phone started ringing, one kid came in and was bleeding and needed a band-aid, another one was crying, and Paul was texting me about help with what bike to get. I was four stimulations over my max. 

At this point, my dear friend showed up with her son and I clung to her like a life line. We were headed to the park! I had to do something. So for the next 45 min the kids ran and played at the park down the street, and I actually had a conversation with my friend. Once we made it home at the time when the party was ending, we sang Happy Birthday to Middle and we dished up the special ice cream fudge he picked. Izzy drinks were served, and spilled on the ground, presents were torn open, and parents were coming to get their kids, sadly observing the chaotic state in which we were currently existing. 

I am not kidding. At that moment, we had more people show up to the community garden next door to prep the land and get it ready for planting. My son invited those kids into the house because we were having a party, shared the drinks and dessert and we added a few more to the mix. I went outside to talk to Michael who is one of the leaders. His brother joined us and started an inappropriate relationship with my hand, as he wouldn't let it go and continued to bestow kiss after kiss with over indulgent compliments. Paul still isn't home, so I wasn't sure how to get myself out of this awkward conversation. Pulled my hand away, he took it back. Moved myself out of the conversation and he brought me back in. It was then our housemate Chad came home, saw my distress and rescued me. 

When Paul finally made it home to wrapping paper all over the floor, garden dirt smashed into the carpet, the sink full of dishes, the first thing he heard from our oldest was, "SOME GUY KISSED MOM AND I WANTED TO PUNCH HIM." Well, that needed some explaining to say the least. (It wan't kissing... it was my hand... it was innocent...it was awkward....we handled it...Your the only man for me.) Done. 

While making dinner, I decided to have a cocktail. I don't need a drink to relax, but it sure is nice once in awhile. Right after my vodka and OJ and Cranberry (don't judge, it was all we had) I realized that everyone was contained with a movie, the sun was shining and I was desperate for a run. I got changed, and was heading out at 730 before the sun set. Before I made it to the door, Paul grabbed my face in his hands and said to me, "Please be careful. You are going out at night and I need you to be aware and safe. Make smart choices and come back to us. I love you." 

Yes it sounded as final now as did to me in the moment. But living where we do in Minneapolis, he wasn't off base. His fear is founded and I was actually surprised he let me go. (That sounds bad, but I am hoping you know what I mean by it.) So I headed out and about five blocks into my run, my cocktail caught up to me. More than the extra weight I put on, that cocktail is what slowed me down and made my head fuzzy and giggly all at the same time. I thought to myself, I just left my house slightly buzzed (not being a regular drinker, apparently one cocktail will do that to you) going out for a run in a highly complicated and threatening neighborhood. 

Not. My. Best. Moment. 

I had a lot of revelations during that run. Many pondering's about fear and violence and culture and the ghetto that will end up in my next book, (It's name to be leaked later), but I made it home safe and sound, though albeit still a little foggy and completely exhausted. Paul was doing his workout and the kids were asleep so I laid down in bed to wait for him to be done and catch my breath. Apparently when my head hit the pillow, I was out. The next thing I know is that I woke with a start and it was 1145pm. I came out of the room, cold sweat chilled on my body, me still in my workout clothes, and Paul was sitting on the couch all showered and relaxing. I think what came out of his mouth as he looked at me was, "Nice nap? You are a big hot mess that passed out still in your workout clothes without even waking up." I think I glared at him then hopped in the shower for a quick rinse off and crawled back into bed.

Since for the second night in a row, I was apparently incapable of cleaning or joining the land of the living, I had to clean up from one party and prep for the next one all before church. With legos everywhere, the dishes still piled high, the bathroom still not clean, I figured the one thing I could do right today was getting Little's treat ready on time. (Middle's turned out more like soft fudge and not ice cream which worked just fine for the kids.) With some picking up done, breakfast only consisting of two spills, one of milk and one of cereal, we made it to church on time and back home in time for the party to start. 

We wanted to give Little her new bike before her friends showed up. Paul and I made a big deal about the reveal with our camera in hand and unveiling it with the lift of the garage. We were expecting joy, laughter, a squeal maybe.  We were so ready to capture this amazing moment. Her first real bike. All her own. She has been asking for one for over a year and now she got one. When the garage door lifted, we got nothing of what we expected. We literally got...NOTHING. She looked, she saw, she walked up to her bike and just looked at us. I think the word "cool" came out but I'm not sure. What I can say is she was unenthusiastic, unimpressed and the one thing we hoped for didn't happen. 

So while she starting riding her new bike, her three friends showed up and everyone started to play together. I was able to make the ice cream she requested, but I never got the decorations up, and half way through the party, I realized I never even changed the Happy Birthday banner. It still read Happy Birthday Caleb. At her party! After about 10 minutes in, Little started sobbing that her brothers were more fun than her and that her friends didn't want to play with her. She was the Birthday girl so she was supposed to be the favorite. 

I took my kids aside and had a talk. I thought it was all figured out. We separated out the girls and the boys were going to a park with Paul. We had five peaceful minutes, and then Little was crying again. I have no idea what set her off that time, but she came up to me and said, "Mama (hiccup) I need a moment alone (sob) with you to speak about a problem." How can an almost five year old talk like a refined old lady while in the midst of an epic melt down? This was number 2 of I don't know how many because I lost count of the number of melt downs she had. Her party was 2 hours long and she was actually only apart of it for about, oh, a whole 15 minutes. With Paul being gone now for the second party in a row, and me trying to hang with the 3 girls who were invited to this tragic party, all while Little still cried in my room, I went upstairs to elicit Chad's help in convincing Little to come out. 

While Chad was in the room with Little working his magic, the girls and I were playing with the farm animals. Somehow we got on the subject of "if the White and Black cows only gave milk and the Brown cows were for meat." We did some research and kept talking about cows and milk, and babies and feeding them, and milking them. Then questions were happening about other animals and babies and feedings and milk, and all of a sudden I realized I was sitting in my living room ready to deliver a reproduction speech to little girls that aren't mine! All I kept thinking was, "THIS IS NOT HAPPENING?!?!" My daughter is literally living  the mantra"It's my party and I'll cry if I want to" while I have other people's children asking me about milk and mommies and babies.

For the second time, of this backwards, upside down weekend, I found myself a little lost and completely unprepared. I have no problem talking about sex, or any issue with my kids. However, I kind of have this fear of other kids asking me questions like that, me explaining things in a matter of fact kind of way, and the child going home slightly traumatized as if I just told them Santa wasn't real and their parent coming and yelling me. So I get a little panicky when the topic turns personal with children who are not my own.

So I decided to distract them with ice cream and cookies. I know. Real mature.  

(Those are the two left over streamers from her brothers party, which she later pointed out where not the special colors she picked.  whoops.)

It was at that point we got Little out of the room, we sang happy birthday to her, dished up ice cream, the moms showed up to get their daughters. That was the moment Little noticed I hadn't changed the birthday sign and it didn't have her name on it. "I don't even get a sign with my name on it?" (tear)

Oh, epical hot mess this weekend.

I sat on the porch with my dear friend who's daughter was still here we shared a cocktail while we talked and the girls played nicely AFTER the party was over. 

So all in all, Middle was a screaming mess, Little was a crying mess, Paul got kicked out of both parties, and I clearly couldn't handle myself this weekend. My obvious coping mechanisms are a blinding light as indicators go.

Middle never figured out how to be quieter, Little, well, we are hoping and praying that the emotional tidal wave of today is not an indicator of her teenage years, though we know we are wrong, we are going to try to keep Paul around more, and  I switched to coffee.

If you made it this far, I am impressed. We should share a drink together. 

I mean get a coffee.

Or a glass of water. 

Bike earned life lessons

The kids and I went for a bike ride today and all of a sudden it was as if my real life collided with my big picture life in the span of a moment. And it happened over and over for the next 30 min.

My real life would be that this was the first time the kids and I biked this year and the rules are different now. Last year Little was still in a buggy attached to my bike and Middle was on the one wheel attachment with Paul. Big would ride in the pocket between us. Everyone was contained and we could keep our eyes on each of the kids. Paul led the way, I brought up the rear and we were all good. Contained. Dare I say, we were in control?

Then somehow this year, everyone got bigger. Older.  More grown up. Independent. And that means that life changes, rules are different. Little rides the one wheel attachment and both boys are free. It also means that we have the freedom to ride without Paul when he is at work. Our family dynamics have changed and we find that we are still a team but with different roles to play and different dynamics when we engage with one another. 

Life doesn't stand still. Families aren't imortalized. We grow, we learn, we gain wisdom and fall in foolishness. We are human living in a world that requries we keep moving forward.

In my real life, I hadn't ever ridden with the one wheel attachment. Fumbling our way through, I almost lost Little because I forgot that she could get on and off the bike. I realized I had to actually check to see if she was ready. Before, I would just put her in, pile in her books and snack and we were good. I could stop and start whenever I wanted. She was contained and under control. Now the girl has freedom. And I'm not gonna lie, its a little unnerving. So after I almost left without her, then almost dropped her because I wasn't used to her unbalanced weight, we slowly took off. 

That's when it hit me. I can't see my other two kids. I take the lead and they bike behind me. Not only are they biking behind me, because I am the one who sets the path, I actually have to trust my oldest to bring up the rear. Trust him. Trust that he knows the rules. Trust that he will be responsible. Trust that he will communicate when something is wrong and that he can recognize when that might be. That's when my heart start pounding and growing big with panic. 

Once that thought hit me, I realized Little and I were tipping. I am used to carrying dead weight on two wheels while she sits tucked in a sturdy buggy. With the one wheel attachment, she can pedal and lean and the whole bike shifts. And she's only almost five so when she leans and panics, that means she over corrects herself to not fall and screams and panics and yells at me that everything is horrible and she can't do and we need. to. stop. now.

So I say in my most calming, I am not stressed out voice, "Little we are OK. You have to trust me that I will keep us safe. We have to do this together. If you feel like we are going to fall, trust that I can keep us going. We are team now and we can do this together. "

Middle chimed in that Dad gave him the same speech when they biked that way too. 

As we biked along, I realized how quickly my children are growing up. How without even realizing it, they are learning things, growing in wisdom, and becoming real people. (Not that they weren't real before, but they becoming their own I guess in a way that I don't get to dictate or control.) 

Next year Little will be going to full day Kindergarten. I will have my days free to workI and volunteer and take care of my family on my own schedule. My children will be living their lives at school apart from me, learning and growing and I need to trust them. I also need to trust that we are doing our job and they are learning from us at home as well. 

Above all other growing pains I realized today, is that the rules are changing. They are getting bigger and even though they need to learn themselves in new ways, I need to relearn my role with them as well. So many pieces of their lives are out of my control and even though that truth has always been real, it is evident in more ways than our previous years of their young childhood. My role as their mother is not to see everything they do and control it, (though seriously I would beg for that to be the way because I have fiercely good ideas and have made so many mistakes, if they just did what I said, life would be so much easier for them.)

I ride along with them. I ride to encourage and guide back if they need it. I am there to tell them are OK. I am there to say, "You are not alone. If you need me, we got this." I am their support system. The place they fall back on because they overcorrected and made a mistake. 

As kids get older, their personalities and opinions change. They shape their own ideas. They gain independence even though we live as a unit, they need to live on their own two feet. The rules change and its important as parents that we let them learn what that means. But it also means that our role changes as well. I need to learn to trust them. I need to learn that my job isn't to control everything but to guide, support, love and help when they ask.

I was thankful today for the physical reminder of what is emotionally happening in our household. Our bike ride reminded me that even though I have been clutching to hold on, I need to let go a little bit and just hold my children and our relationship gently so they know they can trust me not to overcorrect them in my parenting. 

Our roles change as we grow. And as we grow, we change. I hope I can be patient with myself and my children as we figure out this space in our life. And if you find yourself in the midst of shifting roles and growing pains, I am with you. You are not alone.

Creating Space

The spaces in which we live matter.

The details, they matter.  

In your home, in your office, the coffee shop or boutique, the market or cafe, we are drawn to places and spaces that evoke feelings within us.  Feelings of comfort or joy, feelings that remind us of favorite vacations and stolen moments.  I think we love being inspired by space that demands we feel something. 

For when we feel, we are reminded that yes we are still alive.

I long to create space where those who choose to enter immediately feel at ease.  That all who enter our space understand that they are welcome.  More than just welcome, they are wanted. I desire that the space in which we inhabit would be full of light and life and color and comfort.  We intentionally create that space by the art we hang on the walls, the family heirlooms we have scattered about, but especially we create that space by the joy, love, and acceptance we speak into our space everyday.

(Expect on those hard days, or those dangerous moments even on the good days where we yell, or loose our cool, or say something we regret.  We live speaking forgiveness into those moments to hopefully create a forgiving space.)

I have come to understand the importance of what it means to create space.  More than understand it's importance, I have found how we need to be a people who create spaces that are full of love and acceptance.  That in order to work against the hate and anger that can so  easily penetrate our lives, we need to turn our homes and work spaces and hearts and families into spaces that are full of all the good the world needs.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not."

The single act of breathing and being alive already demands that we change the world in which we live.  Just by being alive, we have changed the world as it was.  We do this by choice, or we simply exist, not ever fully understanding the power we hold just by being alive.  Whether we understand it or not, we effect the spaces in which we live.  The beauty and light inside of us effects our surroundings.  As does the anger and hurt that we carry.

And so we have a choice.

We either live into the darkness, thus emulating more darkness into the space and lives of those around  us,

or...

we live into the beauty and light.

This too changes the spaces and lives around us.

I love to create space.  Space where people want to gather and talk for hours.  Not just the conversations that allow you the highlights of one's life, but the deep, soul unearthing talks that require sharing feelings and hidden thoughts, and are usually accompanied by glasses of wine while tucked under a blanket sharing a couch.  I desire music always playing filling in the silences and creating comfort and words for those who can't find theirs.  I desire space that is filled with art and color and comfort.  I desire space that is filled with people from all walks of life that feel safe to be themselves.  

A space where all feel welcomed and leave feeling inspired. 

It is easy to think of space in regards to styles of decor, but it goes so much deeper than that.  It is the intentionally of how the space we create effects the lives of those around us, including ourselves.  The space we create also transcends the physical space in which we live in, but includes the soul and spirits of those in the space.

I can't do a lot to change the course the history.  I can however, head the words of Emerson and bring the beauty inside of me wherever I go, adding to the joy and love and comfort of the space in which I occupy.  And in turn, it is my deep and solemn prayer that what beauty lives in me would inspire those around me.  Then together we could push against the darkness, slowly changing the world one life and space and moment at a time.

Katrina from Studio Laguna captured my first book launch  party in which I understood fully for the first time the importance of creating space and was able to use those words to describe how I was feeling.  It was a magical night, check it out.

When Counseling enters your story

I am writing this post yes for myself to journal about this experience, but also for you.  The mom or friend or brother or child in the family where things get hard sometimes.  Or maybe lots of the time.

I am writing to tell you that even though, yes, we as a family have lots of funny stories to share, yes we get to travel the country together, and we live as a family grounded in faith and our house is covered in art projects with music blaring, we struggle with anger.

A lot it seems.

We live big.  I don't mean financially, I mean intense and passionate big.  We are big and passionate when we love each other and when we are angry with one other.  We talk loud, we dance every day, we run and don't walk, we eat a lot.  It seems everything we do and all that we are is just heightened a bit.  A little extra if you will.  I often call my children full.  This is not to imply that other children or families are lacking.  Not at all.  Somehow though my children have tapped into all their thoughts, emotions, creativity, and life's purpose all ready, at a very young age.  So they often feel like grown up people, just crammed in little bodies and they are screaming and clawing their way out.

This is all good and wonderful and you get really funny stories, until they get upset and even those thoughts and feelings are extra large.  That's when people start to get hurt.

I will often say we know how to do 80% of life well.  But we really struggle with that other 20%.   

Those times when the kids are not doing their homework and I remind them again for the seventh time and they get angry. The day you wake up on the wrong side of the bed and the next door neighbor hears about it. Or when you are still trying to teach your kid to tie his shoes two years later because he gets frustrated with himself and gives up and starts huffing and puffing and throwing a tantrum.

At 8 years old.

Our oldest has been gifted with direct access to all of my red hot issue buttons.  I mean seriously, buttons I didn't even know were triggers for me, he found them.  And he LOVES to push them.  He must, because he does it ALL.THE. TIME. 

So, we don't do the hard stuff well.

We don't argue well.  We can sometimes get hurtful.

We don't always do discipline well.  Sometimes it isn't patient and thoughtful, its just down right yelling to get you to go to your room, of which I am never proud of.

And for our oldest, it seems there are lots of things that make  him frustrated.  No matter how we have tried to work with him to find systems where he can find success in doing his homework and chores and helping his siblings, he really struggles anger and frustration.  He is incredibly vocal about it and so the negative energy permeates the entire house.

It's really hard to have frustration in the home.  I am weary of fighting it.  Tired of counteracting it. Researching ways to avoid it.  

I believe that some of the reason for this frustration is directed at his restricted diet to keep him off of meds for ADD/ADHD and sensory issues.  I know part of the reason for his fear (which fuels anger) is the weather after a tornado hit our home three years ago.  And the brutal truth is that living in the most crime dense neighborhood of Minneapolis posses an ever constant dull awareness that we are not safe.

I could go on and on about why I think he might be angry, or why I am angry with him, or why we yell more than we are proud of.

But the truth is that we are maxed out in our understanding of how to help each other.

So we are starting counseling.

We need counseling to learn how to do the hard stuff better.  To find tools in how to communicate with each other so that we aren't doing irreparable damage to our relationships.  I can't send my son into adolescence with all this fear and anger, only to add more life and insecurity that comes from school to the mix.  I don't want our relationship to continue being built on a mine field where we never know when he is going to explode. The prayer is that a counselor can give us ways to respect each other in our hard time and know how to handle it better.

I am not foolish enough to believe that we won't ever fight again.  That will most likely happen within the next 24 hours.  But what do I want?  

I want my son to know that I will do anything for him.  That I will find a way or a person that will help him love himself and life.

I want my son to know that talking to a counselor is not for crazy people, but for people who are ready to admit that the knowledge you hold alone sometimes isn't enough.

I want my son to know that asking for help is OK. 

I want my son to know that he is OK.  That he is funny, and compassionate, and thoughtful, and silly, and smart.  That he is all of those things, and he is frustrated.  So let's see how we can deal with the frustrated.

I want my son to know that we are a safe place where he can come and he knows we see all of him and love all of him.

I want to give my son the gift of self awareness.  This is a gift that helps you navigate faith, judgement, relationships and life.  The more self aware we are, the more compassionate we can be.

And I want my son to learn healthy communication in order to understand faith, God and others.

So.... we are going to counseling.  I want to encourage you, if there are some really hard things going on in your life, please give yourself the gift of counseling.  To have another pair of eyes and ears in your life that will encourage you in what you do well, and give you tools to handle the hard stuff.

Manager of the mess

I get it.  I really think I do.  

The grandmas and mothers of older children look back fondly when their children were smaller and big life issues weren't an issue.  They say stuff like,

"Make the most of this time.  It goes so fast.  Don't sweat the small stuff.  Pick your battles.  The days are long and the years are short.  It won't last forever."  

Most of this advice I try to listen to.   I mean they should know right?  They've done this and I want their wisdom to try to make it through this highly emotional living at warp speed season of life.

However, if I hear one more time how I shouldn't worry about a messy house because we are making memories, I might have to turn on my heels and walk straight away before I scream at you.

What do you mean, don't worry about the mess?  

I have to worry about the mess!

I have to care when I get out of bed and step on scissors because my daughter decided she wanted to be close to me when she woke up early and wanted to make me a card.  However, when she was done cutting, coloring and gluing, decided to go and play legos with her brothers, leaving her mess and forgetting for the hundredth time to clean up after she is done leaving me with scissors glued to my foot.

Or when my kids want to build a city out of their Imaginex toys and Legos and forts with sheets. Leaving absolutely NO space to walk around since their room is 10x12ft small.

Or when my children, Lord bless them, want to help me in the kitchen.  Little hears I need milk, goes and gets it and drops it on the floor, while my middle grabs the knife to cut the cucumbers because he can't, and I mean he just can't wait one teeny tiny minute for this mother to clean up the first mess before he slides the knife, misses the cutting board and then knocks the jelly to the floor.  All of this happens while Big yells to me that the water is bubbling over on the stove.

So I gently  usher them out of the kitchen to get a handle on the mess and my emotions.  I mend the kitchen issues for 10 minutes, only to go out to the living room to see all the cushions on the floor for a big romping mess, water spilled on the table, the toenail clippers on the floor, paper clips scattered EVERYWHERE because of course the kids are making a spider man chain.  It is at this moment that my dear husband asks me where the measuring tape is, the phone rings and the timer goes off.

I take a second, one little second to survey my current out of control life.

The kitchen table has bills piled on it, remnants of breakfast and lunch still hanging around because I did choose that morning to play with my kids instead of cleaning every last dirty dish.  There are scrambled eggs, ketchup, rice cake crumbs, broken chips, squashed blueberries, shriveled apple slices and other food that can't be identified under the table even though I just swept yesterday.  YESTERDAY PEOPLE!

Our kitchen table is also apparently the ONLY place for craft projects of which my children like to have at least five projects going EACH AND EVERY DAY.  They need a piece of paper for every thought, and every idea.  They make books, and cards, planes and crowns, magic tricks and costumes out of paper.  They are unstoppable, and it is unreal how much they love to CUT paper.  Seriously, cutting bits of paper that scatter and fall and stick to your foot and end up ALL OVER THE HOUSE is going to be the death of me.

Unless stepping on all those darn Legos don't kill me first.

Food.

Paper.

Projects.

Clothes.

Legos.

Homework.

You want to know what is incredibly sad to me?

I only described my kitchen table to you. 

One small space in our life.

I'm not taking you into the rest of the house.

See, I have to care about the mess because you know what happens when we don't care about the mess?

Moms go crazy.

That's what happens.

A mom's brain is on overload.  She is already managing ten thousand things all at the same time.  She doesn't need a house that looks on the outside like what it does on in the inside.  I don't want anyone to see what is going on in there.  I wish I could escape it sometimes.  So then to see that not only is my brain a big hot mess, but the house is too?

It's too much.

It makes me crazy.  It makes me incredibly cranky and irritable, because everywhere I step I land on food.  I head to the kitchen to cook, and it turns out I have to wash dishes first so we have something to eat on.  I go to get a pen to write a message and can't find one.  I search under cushions, in the bathroom, and finally find one under the bed.  Everything takes 10 times longer when the house is a mess and frustrations are higher because you can't ever find what you need.

Then according to everyone in the house, mom is the only one who knows where everything is.  But then little people like to play the game, "move things around the house but don't remember where I put it, but mom should know anyway."

I hate that game.  I mean really hate 

A messy house just means there is more mess in life.

Yes, I want to spend my time loving and being with my kids.  I don't want to spend hours dusting and washing floors that will just need to be done again next week.

But all of this also assumes that I am in charge of cleaning.

We don't do any service to our kids by not teaching them to clean up after themselves.  They need to know how to take care of their things.  To show respect for their belongings and know that if you make a mess, you should clean it up.

So, you know what that does to my life?

It makes me a manager and teacher of how to be clean. Not ignoring the mess, but now focusing on it because I am training others in how to handle it.  It becomes my job to help train my kids to put their clothes away when they change into pajama's.  Otherwise, there room is a total  mess within just a coupe days.  

They should be responsible with helping set and clean up after meals because they are partaking in the meal. 

They should clean up after their arts and crafts.  It's called responsibility.

So yes, I understand that there are times, you run out your door after a meal to enjoy a family bike ride, not cleaning up the dishes and waiting till later.

Yes, its OK to let the clean up rules slide for special time together.

But really?

The truth is, we have to care about the mess.  If we don't, then where is my dish fairy to come and take care of the load of dishes in my sink that I am still ignoring from lunch?  

We need clean clothes.

We need clean dishes.

We need toys to be put away so we can find them later to play with.

We need to teach our kids to be responsible.

That means however that I need to care about the mess.

If you really want me to enjoy time with my kids and enjoy the moment, then instead of telling me I shouldn't care about the mess, offer me a glass of wine while I play my 15th game of "Sorry" and you can do my dishes for me.

Inspiration breeds inspiration

I had mentioned either here or in person how in our home we try to read scripture together every morning.  We do that not because we feel we have to, or because this is what good Christian's do.  Honestly we do it because of our philosophy of Big Picture Parenting.  We believe that as our children leave our home every morning and attend school, we want the word of God in their heart.  We want them to know scripture, to feel comfortable searching God's word for insight into his heart and to really know what God says about life and love.  To really know God and not just what people say about him.

Then I went and had a play date with a friend of mine a couple months ago.  As we were sitting in her kitchen, she had index cards covering her walls with scripture written on them.  As I took a closer look, she had the first couple dozen chapters of Proverbs up.

I fell in love.

I asked her what was going on with all the proverbs posted on her wall and her response was, "I got the idea from you."

I had a look of total confusion.  We have never done anything like this, so it didn't really feel like my idea.  "I don't get it" was my response.

She told me that she appreciated how much we were trying to create a love of God and his word in our children.  She said as her and her husband were trying to raise up their kids, they wanted God's wisdom strong in their mind and in their heart.  

I Love it!!!

See, I pray for God's wisdom over my children almost as much as I cook their meals.  These young boys and girl are faced with choices every day about who they are, who they are going to be, and what they stand for.  Choices of fitting in, going along with the crowd, sticking up for the kid getting picked on, helping someone in need, it will never end.  I want them filled with the knowledge of God's love and his desire for their life.

So instead of just praying wisdom over my kids, this felt like the perfect compliment to put it in their hearts.

The proverbs are also an easy way to find just a couple of verses to read in the morning.  A couple verses read, then discussed leaves us with a perfect small 5-10 min devotion.  It has sparked such great conversations and questions from the kids, and having them written down, on days when we don't have time for a new one, we can pick one off the door and read it again.

The other great benefit of having it written down and up where we can see all the time, is I can stop and read encouragement every time I  need it.

The best part of all this...

I shared a desire of my heart and a small tradition that I do with my kids.  Another mother took that idea and made it her own.  I saw what she did and she inspired me to follow suit and take it another step further.

This is the best part of living life publicly   The way our hearts, our desires, our traditions can inspire others and in turn, we can be inspired by them.

Thank you Jessica!

Social, ethical, parental responsiblity

In times of crisis, I wish I had a medical degree.  I wish I had the freedom to pick up and go to where help is needed.  To comfort people in despair.  To organize volunteers.  To lift away debris and bring the hurting to help.

To work.

To help.

To love.

To be human.

But I can't.

There are people here in this house who desperately need me to survive.  They need me here, and so I can't be there.

When tragedy strikes, and I hate to admit that most of the time it is news on main stream media that I hear due to my lack of media watching and listening, I can't seem to tear myself away.

Today was no different.

We don't turn the TV on, because seeing the images of blood streaking the Boston streets would only serve to put fear and anger in my children.  And so I listened to the radio in the kitchen while I cooked.  Even when it felt like too much, I had a sense that if I turned the radio off, I would be turning my blind eye or deaf ear to the situation.  It felt wrong to leave the tragedy, when so many others couldn't.

And yet, you have to.  Not forget I mean, but take a breather.  Let it sink in.  Allow the gravity of the situation to have it's rightful place.

In these moments I often wonder what my role is.

Where is my responsibility in this?

I think about my children sleeping in their beds right now.  I think about how impressionable they are.  I wonder on what their futures hold.  What battles they will have to fight as young men and women.

I really hate to admit that I have lived a long time in "retreat" mentality.  Pull away, live off the grid, stop all the media from being in my house, go simple, don't invest, it's too much out there, so I'll just live small in our own little world.

But really, all that means is that I escape all responsibility and I hide from being apart of the solution.  What my greatest sin with that way of living, is teaching my children to do the same. When I don't engage, they will never know how.

As parents it is critical that we understand the importance of what our job is.  If you have small children living in your home, then you understand the absolute power you have in your words and actions in shaping the minds and hearts of the young people who look up to you.  The way we engage, or ignore problems.  The words we use to describe hate crimes and those who hurt.  The way we talk about different cultures and religions.  Our words will directly shape the way our children see the world and the people in it.

Humans history is filled with wars and killings based on greed, power, selfishness  and sickness. It won't ever go away.  So how do we deal with that?

The only power I have right now, today in my circumstance is to raise up children who will desire to be apart of the solution, not the problem.  To be helpers.  To be supporters.  To be advocates.

To give my children a language to communicate their thoughts and feelings, so that talking through problems is the first solution.  To teach the power of communication, understanding, forgiveness, and compromise.

To install in my children a longing for justice and a heart for the wounded and hurt.

To equip them with the tools necessary to find solutions to problems.

To in every way possible, give them an acceptance of all people, without judgement so that they can see the man behind the culture, the religion, the uniform.

To talk about the scary things that happen in a space where it allows your children to voice their questions and concerns and worries and wonderings. 

To give them your thoughtful observations and passion against evil.

Today felt overwhelming.  The obvious tragedy brings with it a sense of hopelessness.  After the hopelessness came the urgency in the awareness of the responsibility of raising my children.

Raising them to not run from the fight, but equipping them to be prepared for it.

In my opinion, Jesus hasn't shown up yet, so I would rather we were a family who actively cared about the solution, instead of pretending that all the problems don't exist.

We have a responsibility as parents.  Our children are what we are giving to the world, to the next generation.  They will inherit all of our mistakes and all that is wrong and right with our world.  I will say it again, my greatest mistake will be not preparing them for that.

How does one move past the fear?

This morning I woke up to the sound of my son coming in to my room, hugging me and saying, "I am so glad you are alive mama.  I am so glad you are alive!"

I looked at him and said, "Oh honey, of course I am alive.  Is everything OK?"

That's when Big told me that last night they woke up to gun shots ringing in the front yard.  They ran out to get Paul, thinking we were being attacked.  Paul had already flipped the light switches off and was ducking down to see a group of teenagers breaking off in pairs from our front yard after shooting a couple rounds off into black sky.  They clung to their dad hoping he could make it better.  After calling the police, he tucked the kids back into bed and sang over them.

This morning, their fear for me and for them was all they could talk about.  I was writing at the coffee shop like I do every Tuesday night.  I wasn't home, and so in their young minds, I was at risk out there with the bad guys.  They were out there and I was out there, not safely at home.

As each of my kids came into my room this morning, all hugging me tight, thankful for my safety, my heart physically hurt for how to help them navigate through this.  I wasn't sure how to do that.

I can't give them promises that I will always be there for them.  Because I won't.

I can't tell them that nothing bad will happen to me.  Because I don't know.

So what can I give them?

First off, this is not a story of living in the hood.  This story isn't shared to get you to feel bad for us.  It's not a  story to gain attention or have some weird twisted story to brag about.  This story speaks to what we do with the fear our children have.  All kids have a fear of something.  Fear of fitting in.  Fear of being embarrased.  Fear of talking to strangers.  Fear their parents will split up.  Fear there is something wrong with them.  So the question then is, what do you do with that fear?

Second, as parents, I think it is very tempting to use our status in our children's lives to turn into the ultimate power.  If you have a wound, I will make it better.  If someone hurt you, I will go take care of it.  If you have a need, I will fill it.  It is nice to be needed and have someone rely on you.  To be the hero.  The one who saves the day.

But in the end, what good does it do to have our children put all of their trust in us?  In a human being who will fall short, mess up and disappoint them?

Paul and I have as much as possible, whenever possible, try to point our children to the one who will not fail them.  To the one who will ultimately heal and help them.  It is our goal as parents to teach our kids to reach out to God in times of trouble, pain and joy.  This is not without trying our hardest to be there for our children, to help whenever it is right.  But we can't desire to be their ultimate power in life.

So each morning, we try, at breakfast to institute, "Feed your body, feed your soul."  This is a time where we read a few verses in the morning to make sure that the word of God is in our children's hearts.  Lately, we have been reading through the proverbs.  But this morning I knew it was different and we would need a different kind of comfort and healing.  So we read Romans 8:31+

"What then shall we say in response to this?   If God is for us, who can be against us?  No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

In reading this, it also brought to mind the verse that says, "perfect love drives out fear" which I think is 1 John.

God's love can drive out our fear and demons and insecurities.

I wanted my kids to walk away not living in fear.  Not overcome with worry about who might get shot and killed in our yard.  We are still trying to convince them that we won't die every time a thunderstorm hits in the middle of the night.  Two years later, Big and Little will still crawl into our bed trembling that we will die when the thunder hits waking them up in the darkness of night.

It is my belief that fear, left in our heart will create a foothold for Satan to tear us down and keep us from thriving in life.  When a small amount fear or doubt is left in your heart, the only thing it has the power to do is grow.  It gains strength every time we experience something that reminds us of that fear.  Then eventually, it will keep us fearful and unable to take chances, to trust, and to love.

So in this round about way, as parents, and just as people ourselves, the way to not live in fear is to cling to the one who has the power enough to love us out of the fearful place.  To admit that fear.  Surrender it.  Lay it down.  Give it over.  Try to learn to trust a little bit more every day.

This morning we prayed after reading scripture together.  We prayed that we could rest in God's love.  We prayed that Satan wouldn't have a hold on our hearts in the fear we have about how scary the guns were.  We prayed that God could create trust in our hearts.  We prayed that his words we read would strengthen our faith and allow us live in HOPE that God, no matter what, will work all things to his glory.

We don't know what that means exactly.  We don't really know what that looks like.  I do know though that I could tell a difference in their smiles this morning.  I am hoping that teaching them to give over their fear and worry and weakness, that they will start to cling on their own to a relationship with Christ.

He is much better savior than me.

And in the end, I have lived most of my life in fear.  I would like to find a way to help my children live in love and courage by showing them how to surrender over the fear.

When you are weary of the battle

I don't know about you, but I grow weary and tired of how hard it is to fight for what you want in life.  To battle all the things that threaten to take away your values and priorities and hope.

Everything the last few days has grated on my emotions.  Feelings that felt raw and ready to explode for reasons I couldn't figure out.

I knew I was tired.

I knew I felt worn down.

I knew I felt like I wanted to give up, sit on my couch, eat ice cream and pop corn and drink wine and iced coffee.  Snuggle under a blanket and just read a silly book or watch TV all day.

I was tired of battling the kids, myself, our neighborhood, our budget, my time, the book...well everything, and I craved relief.

I wanted relief from all the intentionality that we try to live in.

I wanted a break from all the rules and guidelines.

When talking with Paul this afternoon about why, "Why are we so easily frustrated and cranky, and so ready to give up?"  We realized it was because we are always fighting.

We are fighting for our kids faith in God.  We battle to find the time to invest in devotions, conversations, intentional time dedicated to exploring faith and what it means to believe in God in their world today.

We are fighting for our marriage.  We work hard on finding time to be together, trying to use communication that builds us up instead of tearing us down.  We evaluate all the time, what do you need to be OK?  How can I support you?  How can I love you during this hard time?  We are working hard on putting the needs of our spouse before our own.  To see the love of your life through the eyes of Christ.  To keep the spark alive.  To turn young love into something deep and rich and powerful that still contains magic and spark.

We are fighting for our safety.  How can we live in a place of trusting God to be enough and not living in fear, while still being safe in the choices we make?  Not making judgements on the kids walking around our neighborhood.  Not assuming that every person sitting in their car is there waiting on trouble, or that every person who knocks on our door is wanting to break in when we leave.  Our families safety is always, constantly present first and foremost in our mind.  We are always prepped for battle when it comes to our safety.

We are fighting for our money.  Money has a way of just disappearing and we are fighting to keep ours.  We are always aware of what we are spending, and fighting to keep money in our pocket so that we can be free from debt.

We are fighting for our own dream and for the dreams of our spouse.  Paul and I are both filled with ambition and determination and our greatest desire is to fulfill God's desire for our life.   It's hard in the mundane, every day chores and hurdles to fight for something bigger.  Something grand.  Something special that lives in your heart.  You have everyday choices that you have to weigh against the grand scheme of things.  This is one of the hardest things to fight for everyday.

When we intentionally live out our lives, it means we have evaluated and prayed and come to a set of standards of how we live our life.  How do we spend our time, our money, our resources?  Do these things hold up to the priorities and values that we live by?

But that also means that we just don't live carelessly anymore.   Everything we do at that point means something.

Most often however, if you have taken the time to evaluate your life and have decided to live by certain standards, those standards will grate against the lifestyles around you.  When that happens, what do you  do?

We have a choice to give up on our standards and value of living, or we fight.

We try to have a family meeting every week so that we can take stock of our resources and time and money as we evaluate all the options that we face every week that want our time, our money and our energy.

And so we choose to fight.

But you can't fight every moment of every day.  Some days, when the battle becomes too much and it tears down your spirit, you need to take a break.  You need to sit and pray and release control back to the creator who loves you.  You need to remember that God is still God and we are just one person in one moment in time.

And so we surrendered.  Not to our ideals and priorities, but to the God in charge of those ideals and priorities.  And in that surrender, it gives us strength to keep fighting.

 

1 whine =1 penny

I HATE Whining.  

When I say that, I mean it feels worse to me than the fingernails on a chalk board phrase.

I HATE whining.  And my kids do it. All. The. Time.

That's when I asked myself, "What would Bill Cosby do?"

What's funny is I have found myself asking that question a lot with my kids getting older.  I grew up on the Cosby show and they had such inventive, creative ways of dealing with their kids.  So what would Bill do?

Well, I am not sure that this is what they would do, but it got my creative juices flowing.

After so much whining and then so many frustrated "pleas" from mom about "stop whining", Paul and I got together, and decided we needed a plan.

We called a family meeting and discussed our two current issues that needed correction.  

Whining and Disobedience.

We sat the kids down and prayed first.  Praying has its all calming power to refocus everyone and get us all on the same page.  As much as 2, 5, and 7 year old can be on a page.  

We talked about how we wanted them to succeed and we talked about how much they were probably really tired of being corrected by mom and dad.  We wanted to create a way to help them and remind them about the things that come out of their mouth.

Then we brought the Bible out and read a few verses about honoring God with our words and whining.

Are you communicating with a self-controlled voice? (that NEVER happens here!)

How does God want you to communicate?

Titus 2:12 says, "Whining is an ungodly form of communication.  God wants you to use self control, even with our voice."

Also check out, Proverbs 25:28, Galatians 5:22-23, Ephesians 4:29, 2 Peter 1:5-8.  These helped us point our kids to WHY we ask them for certain behavior.

Then came the idea.  

The kids will get 10 pennies each morning.  (This idea actually came from the Bernstein Bears when Sister Bear was biting her nails.  Apparently, Paul and I are incapable of creating our own inventive parenting techniques.  We just steal from imaginary families.)  Every time they whine, they have to put a penny in the jar.  We went and got an old canning jar, and asked the kids what we should their money should go towards.  We decided to make it the "Car Repair Jar".  

So every time the kids whine, we save money for the next time our car is in the shop.  This will never amount to much, but we really liked the idea.  I had middle make a sign for the jar, (forget pinterest and all their fancy Martha Stewart like ideas, we just use scrap paper and markers.  We are old school, its cheaper.)  The next day we went to the bank to get a whole stash of pennies.

The kids were super excited because they started counting how many days they needed to be extra good to get a whole $1.  It lasted a day.  The second day, each kid lost four pennies.  At one point, Little looked at me, knowingly complained and whined about lunch while she marched right into her room and got two pennies to put in the jar as she finished her whining.  I laughed right out loud at her.  Wrong move I know, but I couldn't help it.

So here we are... the jar is filling up.  We don't argue as much about whining.  They whine.  We say, put a penny in the jar.  If they whine about putting a penny in the jar, that will cost you 2 pennies.  They have figured out that if they boldly say, "someone else is whining!"  they also put a penny in the jar.

It may sound silly or over the top, but did I tell you how much I can't stand whining?  This seems to be working.  Even Little now will catch herself, stop, and say what she wants to say instead of the old habit of IMMEDIATELY turning up the half cry/half baby talk to communicate what she wants.  I would say that is progress.

We tell our kids, we understand that whining will happen.  What we want from you is for this NOT to be your first choice of communication.  

But you know the thing about intentional parenting and communication and discipline?

If you aren't consistent, it doesn't work.

There have been a few times that Paul and I have looked at each other and said, "We just gave ourselves one more thing to manage and think about.  If we don't stay on top of this, then it won't work."  And yes that is true.

And though we still whine here in this house, because we are normal people who struggle to learn good habits, it is slowing working.  And every few days, or at least once a week, we ask the kids, why do we have a "NO WHINE" jar?  We want them to know its not just about how annoying it is, but that God desires better from us.  We can glorify him and honor others with the way we communicate.  That is why we do this.  (And it drives me nuts.)

And we raised $1.15 for our next car repair!!!!!

I don't which is harder, teaching our kids good habits or saving for the next time our car breaks down.