at the end of a nice walk, the kids are lying down for a nap.
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Sunday, May 29, 2016
The Sunday Sacrifice
Dan and I have made it a priority to attend church every Sunday. We don't often skip church, except for illness or an occasional family recovery day. When we started having kids five years ago, going to church became harder. As almost any parent of a young child knows, church quite often coincides with morning nap time. This means that we have to either rearrange our day to accommodate a different nap time (haha...like that's possible!) or our child doesn't nap. The ripple affect of this is an overtired and cranky child on Sunday and in our case, often a cranky child for 3-4 days afterwords. This means that we have finally fully recovered by Thursday. We then have three days of pleasant interactions (baring any sickness, teething or any other factors), until we start the process all over again.
Now that most of our kids are older and have dropped the morning nap, we have a different problem. Our children wake up early (as in 6am is sleeping in)! On Sundays, we choose to have a bigger breakfast and shower the kids. This means that by the time Dan and I have dragged our butts out of bed, fed and dressed the kids, its often too late to do anything, like a quick walk, before Sunday School starts at 9:30am. This messes up our whole day. Normally we eat lunch at 10:30, which coincidentally is the same time the church service starts. An hour later and church is over, and we are already half an hour later for our normal nap/quiet time and we still haven't eaten lunch! So our day is messed up and our kids are quite often antsy, overtired and hungry. Then, we go home, shove lunch down our throats and head straight to bed for a nap. By the time everyone is awake, its 3pm. That gives us an hour or so before we need to start dinner before moving onto bedtime routines. The entire day is gone (except for that one precious hour between 3-4pm). No wait! We still need a snack before dinner, since lunch may or may not have been eaten and we cannot handle hungry children! Therefore, the day is gone. Breakfast, church, naps, snack, dinner, bed.
Dan and I call this phenomenon the Sunday sacrifice. Our entire day has been sacrificed for two hours of church. This means that one of Dan's two days off is spent in church or awaiting the end of nap time.
There are definitely days that we would rather stay home or go out on an adventure somewhere. But instead, we keep heading to church. Those two hours are worth it. The Sunday Sacrifice is hard.
We realized early on in our parenting career, we needed to go to church every week, even if it was hard. Because for us, its too tempting to skip every week for another hour in bed, or a walk in the woods. (ohhh how we miss Bedside Baptist, with Reverend Pillow talking about the Great Comforter). Attending church became a top priority for us.
We have friends that are quite involved in church and ministry. They have designated one week a month as family time. Dan and I love this idea. Since hearing it, we have desperately tried to institute it. But there is always something dragging us to church instead. (...but Angelika is preaching, the kids are singing this morning, Dan teaching Sunday School, its raining, we could really use a nap later...)
So needless to say, we go to church. Our Sunday sacrifice continues whether we want it to or not.
But I guess as I reflect about it, we know that sacrificing our Sundays is worth it. We've talked often about how much we love our church. We love the multi-generational community we have. We love the messages we may or may not hear. And even on those days that we spend the entire service in the Mother's room or half asleep in the pew, we know that we are instilling an important habit in our boys lives. Its important to us that our boys see the importance of church. Its important that church attendance becomes a healthy habit. Its important for us to continue to build those relationships with others that we may not have outside of church. We have made friends with people who are our parents and grandparents age. They are our cheerleaders, people who challenge us and people who understand and have gone before us, ready to encourage us during our run through the gauntlet. Our children have built relationships with people who have different skills and interests than us. They nurture our children. Encourage our children. Pray for our children. Teach our children. We know that sacrificing our Sundays is worth it in the long run.
So whether we take a week off from church attendance or not, we know that both are good. We know we need a balance of attendance. A balance of sacrifice and relationship building. So we soldier on, waking up each Sunday making a choice. A choice to go to church and/or grow together as a family. Both are sacrifices. Both are worth it.
But I guess as I reflect about it, we know that sacrificing our Sundays is worth it. We've talked often about how much we love our church. We love the multi-generational community we have. We love the messages we may or may not hear. And even on those days that we spend the entire service in the Mother's room or half asleep in the pew, we know that we are instilling an important habit in our boys lives. Its important to us that our boys see the importance of church. Its important that church attendance becomes a healthy habit. Its important for us to continue to build those relationships with others that we may not have outside of church. We have made friends with people who are our parents and grandparents age. They are our cheerleaders, people who challenge us and people who understand and have gone before us, ready to encourage us during our run through the gauntlet. Our children have built relationships with people who have different skills and interests than us. They nurture our children. Encourage our children. Pray for our children. Teach our children. We know that sacrificing our Sundays is worth it in the long run.
So whether we take a week off from church attendance or not, we know that both are good. We know we need a balance of attendance. A balance of sacrifice and relationship building. So we soldier on, waking up each Sunday making a choice. A choice to go to church and/or grow together as a family. Both are sacrifices. Both are worth it.
Friday, May 27, 2016
9 years
9 years. That's how long we have been married.
I love that Dan washes dishes by hand. Anything that doesn't fit in the dishwasher, or that is labeled hand-wash only, he washes. Every Single Day. I especially love that he washes the muffin tins.
I love that he will call, "Not it" to changing a dirty diaper, but end up changing it anyway.
I love that Dan will choose to navigate our journeys, rather than drive. Plus, having my own personal Dan-Dan (as opposed to TomTom) is amazing, especially when he tells me he's "recalculating route."
I love that Dan makes breakfast on weekends.
I love that Dan and I share night duty with the kids. He'll get up and bring the baby to bed, I'll feed the baby and pass the baby back to Dan so he can return it to bed.
I love that Dan appreciates the little things in life, like a homemade dessert or a virgin bed (the first night on clean sheets).
I remember when in pre-martial counseling, we were asked why we loved each other. I distinctly remember saying that I love Dan's servant heart. I see it every day in the little things he does. He's made these little things habits, to serve, to value and cherish me.
We've had rough times in our marriage, mostly due to sleep deprivation. I distinctly remember during those three and a half months that we didn't sleep for more than forty-five minutes at a time, I would wake up every morning angry at Dan. Now don't get me wrong, he didn't do anything wrong. But I was mad. I was mad that we weren't sleeping. I was sleep deprived. But I made wrong choices and chose to nitpick everything he did. I remember lying in bed, thinking about how much I didn't like the way things were. So, I devised a plan to leave. I'd take the kids to my moms and live with her. Somehow it dawned on me that if I left and took the kids, that I would be waking up every night with the kids ON MY OWN. And I couldn't do it. I literally stayed in our marriage because there was no strength to get up every 45 minutes on my own to take care of the kids. So instead of leaving, I did the hard thing and changed my behaviour. I stopped nitpicking. I worked hard at not being mad at Dan, but mad at the situation. We worked hard at getting the baby to sleep longer stretches so we could be better people. We joke about that time in our lives now. We know that it wasn't really our marriage that needed work. We just needed to sleep and things improved exponentially.
I like that we realize when our marriage needs work. We both enjoy spending time together and when life gets busy, we will often take some time to rebuild our marriage and connect with one another.
If I had to give one piece of marriage advice to newlyweds, it would be this: Find out what works for your marriage and do it. Then, be willing to change and evolve as time goes on. What works for one couple may not work for another. What worked in year one, may not work well in year nine. But you need to find what works for both of you at that time period in life.
The couple we were when we got married has changed, grown, and developed into a different couple. But one thing remains the same. We still love each other and we will be together, FOREVVVVVER!
I find it too trite to say that our love for one another has grown each day. I'm pretty sure there was a long span of time that this statement wasn't true. Our love for one another has changed. Our appreciation for each other has grown deeper. We laugh differently than we did as newlyweds. Our roles within the marriage continue to develop and mature with age.
I often fail to vocalize my appreciate to Dan for the little things he does, those small every day things that I take for granted.
I love that he warms the face cloth every night and always lets me have it first.
I love that when he's first to the toothbrushes, he'll put toothpaste on mine as well.
I love that when he fills his water cup, he almost always fills mine at the same time.
I find it funny that when he does something annoying or silly and I call him on it, he'll turn around and say in a long drawn out, "You're stuck with me....FOREVVVVVVVVVER!" while holding out his hand and pointing at his wedding ring.
I love that Dan washes dishes by hand. Anything that doesn't fit in the dishwasher, or that is labeled hand-wash only, he washes. Every Single Day. I especially love that he washes the muffin tins.
I love that he will call, "Not it" to changing a dirty diaper, but end up changing it anyway.
I love that Dan will choose to navigate our journeys, rather than drive. Plus, having my own personal Dan-Dan (as opposed to TomTom) is amazing, especially when he tells me he's "recalculating route."
I love that Dan makes breakfast on weekends.
I love that Dan and I share night duty with the kids. He'll get up and bring the baby to bed, I'll feed the baby and pass the baby back to Dan so he can return it to bed.
I love that Dan appreciates the little things in life, like a homemade dessert or a virgin bed (the first night on clean sheets).
I remember when in pre-martial counseling, we were asked why we loved each other. I distinctly remember saying that I love Dan's servant heart. I see it every day in the little things he does. He's made these little things habits, to serve, to value and cherish me.
We've had rough times in our marriage, mostly due to sleep deprivation. I distinctly remember during those three and a half months that we didn't sleep for more than forty-five minutes at a time, I would wake up every morning angry at Dan. Now don't get me wrong, he didn't do anything wrong. But I was mad. I was mad that we weren't sleeping. I was sleep deprived. But I made wrong choices and chose to nitpick everything he did. I remember lying in bed, thinking about how much I didn't like the way things were. So, I devised a plan to leave. I'd take the kids to my moms and live with her. Somehow it dawned on me that if I left and took the kids, that I would be waking up every night with the kids ON MY OWN. And I couldn't do it. I literally stayed in our marriage because there was no strength to get up every 45 minutes on my own to take care of the kids. So instead of leaving, I did the hard thing and changed my behaviour. I stopped nitpicking. I worked hard at not being mad at Dan, but mad at the situation. We worked hard at getting the baby to sleep longer stretches so we could be better people. We joke about that time in our lives now. We know that it wasn't really our marriage that needed work. We just needed to sleep and things improved exponentially.
I like that we realize when our marriage needs work. We both enjoy spending time together and when life gets busy, we will often take some time to rebuild our marriage and connect with one another.
If I had to give one piece of marriage advice to newlyweds, it would be this: Find out what works for your marriage and do it. Then, be willing to change and evolve as time goes on. What works for one couple may not work for another. What worked in year one, may not work well in year nine. But you need to find what works for both of you at that time period in life.
The couple we were when we got married has changed, grown, and developed into a different couple. But one thing remains the same. We still love each other and we will be together, FOREVVVVVER!
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
Nature
"Nature does not hurry. Yet everything is accomplished."
I saw this quote back in January. I've been pondering it ever since. There is a rhythm to life. New life blooms, grows and blossoms. Then it shrivels, dies and decays producing new life.
I think sometimes in life we wish that we were in the next stage. I can't wait to get married. I can't wait to have children. I can't wait for the kids to get bigger and go to school, to graduate, to get married and produce grand kids.
Often times, I've been trying to rush life. The joy, for me, of having three kids is perspective. The first child, I rushed. I couldn't wait for him to get bigger and grow up and do new things. The second one came quickly behind and I think I felt the same way. But this third little one. Oh nelly! Slow down little grasshopper. Slow down! I already miss the baby snuggles. The attempts to roll and crawl and walk. But at the same time, don't slow down. Keep moving forward. The beauty of this third baby is that I'm not rushing him along into the next stage. Perhaps, even, wisdom has grown deeper. As much as I'm not rushing him, I'm not urging him to slow down either. But rather, allowing him to develop in his own time. He will do things when he is ready.
Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.
I saw this quote back in January. I've been pondering it ever since. There is a rhythm to life. New life blooms, grows and blossoms. Then it shrivels, dies and decays producing new life.
I think sometimes in life we wish that we were in the next stage. I can't wait to get married. I can't wait to have children. I can't wait for the kids to get bigger and go to school, to graduate, to get married and produce grand kids.
Often times, I've been trying to rush life. The joy, for me, of having three kids is perspective. The first child, I rushed. I couldn't wait for him to get bigger and grow up and do new things. The second one came quickly behind and I think I felt the same way. But this third little one. Oh nelly! Slow down little grasshopper. Slow down! I already miss the baby snuggles. The attempts to roll and crawl and walk. But at the same time, don't slow down. Keep moving forward. The beauty of this third baby is that I'm not rushing him along into the next stage. Perhaps, even, wisdom has grown deeper. As much as I'm not rushing him, I'm not urging him to slow down either. But rather, allowing him to develop in his own time. He will do things when he is ready.
Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Sunday, May 15, 2016
Ordinary Time
I was reading some one's blog the other day about how they were ready for ordinary time. They just felt weary from celebrating Lent and Easter and were awaiting Pentecost and the beginning of ordinary time. As I read that, I sighed in concurrence. I, too am awaiting ordinary time and am weary of celebrating Easter. Then I thought to myself, since when did I start following the liturgical calendar?
I guess it started with Lent...or was it Advent? As a family, we have started to be purposeful in our actions around Christian holidays. Christmas feels too short without the anticipation that Advent brings. The lament of Lents helps season the richness of Easter. As time has gone on, we've added Thanksgiving and Pentecost. It seems as though from October through till May this year, we have rolled one liturgical season into another, with nary a break in between.
How do we celebrate the liturgical season? We've moved beyond crafts (because I can't be bothered), to a deeper, richer time as a family. We spend each season in prayer. We pray for our friends, family and Church members. Each day, we choose a name and pray that family and display their name in a seasonal artistic way.
During thanksgiving this year, we put names on leaves.
Advent and Christmas, we used stars.
Lent, we used flowers on a cross.
And during the time between Easter and Pentecost, we put fire on the cross.
It allows us to focus on prayer and on people that we don't always remember to pray for otherwise.
One of our Lent goals was for the boys to learn a standard prayer for our food (God is Great and God is Good and we thank him for this food, Amen), which went well. This Pentecost season, we wanted to do something a little different. We wanted a standardized prayer that we could all say together for the chosen family. I scoured the Internet to find a Pentecost prayer that we could pray on behalf of someone that was short enough and easy enough for our family to learn (this was NOT an easy task). Eventually, I happened to find one that suited our needs and at least had something to do with Pentecost and the Holy Spirit.
Come Holy Spirit,
Bring us today,
Love, joy and Peace,
In all that we say.
Come Holy Spirit,
Help us be like you,
Showing kindness and goodness,
in all that we do.
Come Holy Spirit,
Please bless ___________, in all that they do.
and bless the many people,
That might not know and love you.
Amen.
While we have really enjoyed the richness of Lent, Easter and Pentecost, I am ready for a break. I'm ready to have my walls free of art and the fighting over who chooses a name to end. I've thoroughly enjoyed this season, but I am ready to move onto ordinary time. I'm weary from the celebration. As much as I have enjoyed this time, I am ready for it to end. I guess that is the beauty of liturgy. Everything has a time. A time for mourning, a time for lament, a time for celebration, a time for preparation and a time for the ordinary.
I guess it started with Lent...or was it Advent? As a family, we have started to be purposeful in our actions around Christian holidays. Christmas feels too short without the anticipation that Advent brings. The lament of Lents helps season the richness of Easter. As time has gone on, we've added Thanksgiving and Pentecost. It seems as though from October through till May this year, we have rolled one liturgical season into another, with nary a break in between.
How do we celebrate the liturgical season? We've moved beyond crafts (because I can't be bothered), to a deeper, richer time as a family. We spend each season in prayer. We pray for our friends, family and Church members. Each day, we choose a name and pray that family and display their name in a seasonal artistic way.
During thanksgiving this year, we put names on leaves.
Lent, we used flowers on a cross.
It allows us to focus on prayer and on people that we don't always remember to pray for otherwise.
One of our Lent goals was for the boys to learn a standard prayer for our food (God is Great and God is Good and we thank him for this food, Amen), which went well. This Pentecost season, we wanted to do something a little different. We wanted a standardized prayer that we could all say together for the chosen family. I scoured the Internet to find a Pentecost prayer that we could pray on behalf of someone that was short enough and easy enough for our family to learn (this was NOT an easy task). Eventually, I happened to find one that suited our needs and at least had something to do with Pentecost and the Holy Spirit.
Come Holy Spirit,
Bring us today,
Love, joy and Peace,
In all that we say.
Come Holy Spirit,
Help us be like you,
Showing kindness and goodness,
in all that we do.
Come Holy Spirit,
Please bless ___________, in all that they do.
and bless the many people,
That might not know and love you.
Amen.
While we have really enjoyed the richness of Lent, Easter and Pentecost, I am ready for a break. I'm ready to have my walls free of art and the fighting over who chooses a name to end. I've thoroughly enjoyed this season, but I am ready to move onto ordinary time. I'm weary from the celebration. As much as I have enjoyed this time, I am ready for it to end. I guess that is the beauty of liturgy. Everything has a time. A time for mourning, a time for lament, a time for celebration, a time for preparation and a time for the ordinary.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Sunday, May 8, 2016
Those things they say...
Joel called us into the playroom this spring (around Easter). We walked in to find this:
But the comment he made...
"They are crucifying people to make soil. They're recycling!"
Perhaps we've talked a little too much about decompostion lately. If we ever go missing, please search the dirt pile in the backyard. Joel might be "recycling" us back there.
Thursday, May 5, 2016
Constant
*I wrote this in February. Obviously its message is still applicable. In fact, Dan is in school for five weeks, so the consistency is even more evident.*
My father-in-law took Dan and I out for dinner last week. It was wonderful. While we were out eating, he made a comment about why he wanted to take us out for dinner (other than the fact that he rarely gets to see us and this was to celebrate our birthdays). He took just the two of us out, rather than the whole family to give us a break. With the kids around, we are constantly on duty. Our action and movements are constant. There is no break.
For some reason, that word stuck out to me: constant. I've pondered that word for a few days now and I've come to realize that perhaps that is what is unsettled in me lately. Everything is constant. We are always on duty. From the moment we get up in the morning until we crawl into bed at night, we are moving constantly. Feeding, cleaning, changing, calming, disciplining. Sometimes I feel like I am on a hamster wheel, running around and not getting anywhere. There are always hungry kids. The house is always in a state of disarray. The laundry is never finished. Kids constantly need help. Reminding kids to do their responsibilities. Attempting to get kids to go (and stay) asleep. Its never-ending. And that's just the parenting aspect of my life. Then, I also have a marriage to nurture, extended family to communicate with, and relationships with friends to uphold.
Lately, I've been feeling slightly overwhelmed. I'm not drowning under the responsibilities of being a wife and mother. But I feel like I'm constantly moving. There has been an absence of rest. My days are busy caring for kids, my nights have been restless.Then someone asks me to help, to volunteer, to be a part of a committee, to serve in some way...and I say no. I can't quite put my finger on why I don't want to. But I think I've figured it out. My life is full. I can't fit anything else in. And if I could, I wouldn't be doing something new. I want to be better at what I am already doing.
I would be consistent in getting out care group emails earlier in the week.
I would be in communication with the Barkmans more (and be a better liason between them and the church).
I would blog more.
I would teach Micah his letters and numbers (and be a bit more intentional about it).
I would mop my floors.
I would read with Joel, or rather have Joel read to me.
I would do more Lent activities with the boys. The ideas are there, the motivation is lacking.
I would cook more meals (rather than defaulting that to Dan).
I would go for more nature walks.
I would sign my boys up for swim lessons.
I know there is more. Part of my problem is the constant demands of family. I get started on something and then I hear the tears of a child. Or I'm overwhelmed by the daily to-do list and don't know where to start (or sadly, can't remember what it is I'm supposed to be doing).
The other problem is motivation. I am so dang tired that I can't be bothered to do these things. When the kids are in bed, and Dan and I are done the daily duties for the day, we collapse on the couch. I can't be bothered to plan things, to blog, to do the things I want/need to do. I'm too tired. My brain just needs to stop. To breathe. To rest.
We've had some busy evenings lately and I can tell. My demeanor is down. Our marriage needs to be dusted off. Its not that its bad. It just hasn't been taken care of. We need to connect again. (and now that Dan isn't sick and the risk of germ transfer has lessened, I'm willing to take that risk). We need to tackle that to do list, but relaxation is more important. We've driven ourselves into the ground and we both know our limit. Life is constant.
We've had some long sleepless nights lately. I can tell. My caffeine intake has almost doubled. I enjoyed a short nap during church (sorry Chris). My brain feels foggy and jumbled. I'm short in patience and quick to anger. My eyes feel heavy. My body feels slow. I crave sweets and comfort food. And a nap. Oh, how I could use a nap. I miss getting more than two hours of consecutive sleep. I miss waking up to see a six on my alarm clock. Life is constant.
The consistency of life is getting to us. We know what we need. A few good nights sleep. A few days of restful activities. A walk outdoors. A sunny day. A short break. Date night.
We know those things will come. But until they do, we have become masters of 'making do.' We will pair down the activities. We will do the bare minimum to make it through the day until our bodies have rested and are ready to tackle the next project. We will motor through those long nights, praying for rest. Our life is constant.
My father-in-law took Dan and I out for dinner last week. It was wonderful. While we were out eating, he made a comment about why he wanted to take us out for dinner (other than the fact that he rarely gets to see us and this was to celebrate our birthdays). He took just the two of us out, rather than the whole family to give us a break. With the kids around, we are constantly on duty. Our action and movements are constant. There is no break.
For some reason, that word stuck out to me: constant. I've pondered that word for a few days now and I've come to realize that perhaps that is what is unsettled in me lately. Everything is constant. We are always on duty. From the moment we get up in the morning until we crawl into bed at night, we are moving constantly. Feeding, cleaning, changing, calming, disciplining. Sometimes I feel like I am on a hamster wheel, running around and not getting anywhere. There are always hungry kids. The house is always in a state of disarray. The laundry is never finished. Kids constantly need help. Reminding kids to do their responsibilities. Attempting to get kids to go (and stay) asleep. Its never-ending. And that's just the parenting aspect of my life. Then, I also have a marriage to nurture, extended family to communicate with, and relationships with friends to uphold.
Lately, I've been feeling slightly overwhelmed. I'm not drowning under the responsibilities of being a wife and mother. But I feel like I'm constantly moving. There has been an absence of rest. My days are busy caring for kids, my nights have been restless.Then someone asks me to help, to volunteer, to be a part of a committee, to serve in some way...and I say no. I can't quite put my finger on why I don't want to. But I think I've figured it out. My life is full. I can't fit anything else in. And if I could, I wouldn't be doing something new. I want to be better at what I am already doing.
I would be consistent in getting out care group emails earlier in the week.
I would be in communication with the Barkmans more (and be a better liason between them and the church).
I would blog more.
I would teach Micah his letters and numbers (and be a bit more intentional about it).
I would mop my floors.
I would read with Joel, or rather have Joel read to me.
I would do more Lent activities with the boys. The ideas are there, the motivation is lacking.
I would cook more meals (rather than defaulting that to Dan).
I would go for more nature walks.
I would sign my boys up for swim lessons.
I know there is more. Part of my problem is the constant demands of family. I get started on something and then I hear the tears of a child. Or I'm overwhelmed by the daily to-do list and don't know where to start (or sadly, can't remember what it is I'm supposed to be doing).
The other problem is motivation. I am so dang tired that I can't be bothered to do these things. When the kids are in bed, and Dan and I are done the daily duties for the day, we collapse on the couch. I can't be bothered to plan things, to blog, to do the things I want/need to do. I'm too tired. My brain just needs to stop. To breathe. To rest.
We've had some busy evenings lately and I can tell. My demeanor is down. Our marriage needs to be dusted off. Its not that its bad. It just hasn't been taken care of. We need to connect again. (and now that Dan isn't sick and the risk of germ transfer has lessened, I'm willing to take that risk). We need to tackle that to do list, but relaxation is more important. We've driven ourselves into the ground and we both know our limit. Life is constant.
We've had some long sleepless nights lately. I can tell. My caffeine intake has almost doubled. I enjoyed a short nap during church (sorry Chris). My brain feels foggy and jumbled. I'm short in patience and quick to anger. My eyes feel heavy. My body feels slow. I crave sweets and comfort food. And a nap. Oh, how I could use a nap. I miss getting more than two hours of consecutive sleep. I miss waking up to see a six on my alarm clock. Life is constant.
The consistency of life is getting to us. We know what we need. A few good nights sleep. A few days of restful activities. A walk outdoors. A sunny day. A short break. Date night.
We know those things will come. But until they do, we have become masters of 'making do.' We will pair down the activities. We will do the bare minimum to make it through the day until our bodies have rested and are ready to tackle the next project. We will motor through those long nights, praying for rest. Our life is constant.
Sunday, May 1, 2016
The hardest place to parent a child
A friend asked me, "Where is the hardest place to be a parent?"
I didn't have to think long about it. Church. You see, church is a place where we are expected to sit still and be quiet. Two things that don't come easily to kids....especially my kids. The hard part for me, as a parent, is dealing with the judging eyes. The whispers. The "why can't she control her kids?"
You see, at a grocery store or any public place for that matter, if the kids act out or throw a tantrum, the likelihood of seeing those judging eyes again are slim. But at church, we see the same people week after week. The same people who had a problem with our kids last week, will probably have a problem with us again this week.
But as time has gone on, I've realized that there are less and less of those judging eyes. Most of the judgement I thought I was receiving was fictional. There are still some people who wonder about our parenting. But they are far and few between. Most people don't care that our kids make a little noise. Or move around. Or act silly or (God-forbid) act like children.
Almost three summers ago while in church, Dan and I overheard a comment that blessed us so deeply. It was meant to be whispered from a Father to his daughter. We cannot remember this man's exact words. But the sentiment cut us to the core. We have mulled this comment over since that summer, not able to process it completely. I think it will remain as one of those pivotal comments that changed how we parent and how we feel about parenting. The comment goes something like this: "I'm pretty sure that God prefers kids not to sit still and be quiet. I'm pretty sure he wants them to move around and be kids."
Something along the lines of "Let the little children come to me." Something that was picturesque in the story books and even my imagination growing up. But the reality is completely different. Kids are crazy, unpredictable and loud. I can imagine pushing and shoving. I can imagine giggling and screeching. I imagine running and skipping. All those things that aren't necessarily welcome in church. But oddly enough, Jesus says, "Let the screaming, running, shoving, loud, obnoxious, excited, giggly children come to me." And what this gentleman was saying was the exact same thing. He wants those same children to come to church. To be childlike.
Oddly enough, the hardest place to parent has become the best place to parent. We are five years into this parenting gig and are just starting to appreciate the complexities of it all. Five years ago, we were worried that our cooing baby would be distracting to others around us. Now, we realize that our children are welcomed into our church. We have come to appreciate that our children, our loud, obnoxious, clambering all over the place, kicking the seat in front of us, children are welcome in church. We have stayed at this church, because we know our children are welcome. We make a point of coming to church every week knowing that we are welcome. We have been blessed by our community.
There was an older gentleman, who has since passed away, who would sit behind our family every week. He fell in love with our kids and would intentionally come to church to see our children. He was very purposeful in his actions. Every week, he made sure to pull me aside and say the exact same thing to me. Words that resonated with me. Words that encouraged me. Words that challenged me. Words that I still hear every week as I take a seat in church. When I look at his daughter, I hear those words. When I see the empty spot where she usually sits, I hear those words. "You are a good mom." Simple words that became a mantra of sorts. Words that got me through those tough days. Words that affirmed who I was, rather than what was being seen by the outside world. On those days when I sat embarrassed and ashamed at my children's behaviour, I felt loved and affirmed. Church still can be the hardest place to parent. But it is also the most joyous and encouraging. Church is no longer a place I dread going to for fear of what my children will do. Church has become a place that we long for. That we need. That we come to for love and encouragement.
Our children come to be themselves. We come to be ourselves. Its a messy, loud, exciting place. A place we are welcomed. A place we like to call home.
I didn't have to think long about it. Church. You see, church is a place where we are expected to sit still and be quiet. Two things that don't come easily to kids....especially my kids. The hard part for me, as a parent, is dealing with the judging eyes. The whispers. The "why can't she control her kids?"
You see, at a grocery store or any public place for that matter, if the kids act out or throw a tantrum, the likelihood of seeing those judging eyes again are slim. But at church, we see the same people week after week. The same people who had a problem with our kids last week, will probably have a problem with us again this week.
But as time has gone on, I've realized that there are less and less of those judging eyes. Most of the judgement I thought I was receiving was fictional. There are still some people who wonder about our parenting. But they are far and few between. Most people don't care that our kids make a little noise. Or move around. Or act silly or (God-forbid) act like children.
Almost three summers ago while in church, Dan and I overheard a comment that blessed us so deeply. It was meant to be whispered from a Father to his daughter. We cannot remember this man's exact words. But the sentiment cut us to the core. We have mulled this comment over since that summer, not able to process it completely. I think it will remain as one of those pivotal comments that changed how we parent and how we feel about parenting. The comment goes something like this: "I'm pretty sure that God prefers kids not to sit still and be quiet. I'm pretty sure he wants them to move around and be kids."
Something along the lines of "Let the little children come to me." Something that was picturesque in the story books and even my imagination growing up. But the reality is completely different. Kids are crazy, unpredictable and loud. I can imagine pushing and shoving. I can imagine giggling and screeching. I imagine running and skipping. All those things that aren't necessarily welcome in church. But oddly enough, Jesus says, "Let the screaming, running, shoving, loud, obnoxious, excited, giggly children come to me." And what this gentleman was saying was the exact same thing. He wants those same children to come to church. To be childlike.
Oddly enough, the hardest place to parent has become the best place to parent. We are five years into this parenting gig and are just starting to appreciate the complexities of it all. Five years ago, we were worried that our cooing baby would be distracting to others around us. Now, we realize that our children are welcomed into our church. We have come to appreciate that our children, our loud, obnoxious, clambering all over the place, kicking the seat in front of us, children are welcome in church. We have stayed at this church, because we know our children are welcome. We make a point of coming to church every week knowing that we are welcome. We have been blessed by our community.
There was an older gentleman, who has since passed away, who would sit behind our family every week. He fell in love with our kids and would intentionally come to church to see our children. He was very purposeful in his actions. Every week, he made sure to pull me aside and say the exact same thing to me. Words that resonated with me. Words that encouraged me. Words that challenged me. Words that I still hear every week as I take a seat in church. When I look at his daughter, I hear those words. When I see the empty spot where she usually sits, I hear those words. "You are a good mom." Simple words that became a mantra of sorts. Words that got me through those tough days. Words that affirmed who I was, rather than what was being seen by the outside world. On those days when I sat embarrassed and ashamed at my children's behaviour, I felt loved and affirmed. Church still can be the hardest place to parent. But it is also the most joyous and encouraging. Church is no longer a place I dread going to for fear of what my children will do. Church has become a place that we long for. That we need. That we come to for love and encouragement.
Our children come to be themselves. We come to be ourselves. Its a messy, loud, exciting place. A place we are welcomed. A place we like to call home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)