Roll Film!

Ever have one of those days where you think, "This is like something out of a movie!"  One crisis follows another and the only thing missing is the dramatic soundtrack in the background.  That's today, only think more Three Stooges/slapstick film.  All that's missing is the "boing!" sound effects!  Only two things on my to-do list, but they're pretty crucial.  Lesson plans and lesson plans.  Oh, and did I mention that I picked this week to start potty training Daniel?  So, when the alarm goes off at 6, I roll over - oh, wait, can't do that because my bed is filled with sleeping boys.  Oh well, back to sleep for another couple of hours.  That means, of course, what with Rob gone, taking Daniel to the bathroom every twenty minutes, and getting everyone up and dressed, breakfast was at nine or so. 

Following breakfast, more potty trips between accidents (sploosh) and cleaning up from breakfast.  This potty training is a lot easier when you have only one perfect child.  First of all, for the past 8 months, Daniel has gone to the bathroom in his diaper mostly standing up.  Now, all of a sudden, I'm asking him to go sitting down.  This means that he sits on the toilet for 10 minutes (did you know that there were so many fascinating things to distract a child in a toilet's environs?), then, when Mama gives up and sets him on his feet, he pees (sproing)!  This atmosphere of distraction is aided and abetted by having four older siblings IN THE ROOM encouraging him.  Talk about performance anxiety.  It's not a huge bathroom, people. 

My mother-in-law who is still on Christmas break has offered to help.  She has a long errand to run, she says.  Can she take Katie?  The oldest, quietest one. (bong.)  I'm starting to giggle hysterically.  Sure, why not?  Finally, I have a moment to sit and gather my - oh, there's the phone.  Twice.  One is my mother, who after hearing about my morning encourages me to write about this.  You have her to thank for this post.  :)  No lie, as soon as I lay the phone down from talking with her, there's a knock at the door.  Just a quick drop-off from a family member, but I close the door, turn around and see that Daniel has peed in his pants again (tada!).  Back to the bathroom.  At some point in the morning I get him to go while standing up ON the toilet seat.  Not perfect, but it's a start.  Now...

Snacktime.  Of course.  They just ate an hour ago, but apparently their stomach acid is burning a hole in their empty bellies.  Another potty trip (boing) and everyone's settled.  I've managed to copy down my to-do list into my planner, when there is an interpersonal crisis (crash).  Once dealt with, it's lunchtime.  Fortunately, I have a plan and it all comes together quickly (light, happy music).  A quick game of telephone at the lunch table and everyone heads off for naptime.  And here I sit, the house quiet, no one stirring - well, almost no one, and I'm still not planning lessons.  Oh well, maybe next semester.

Girls Growing Up

My girls and I were invited to a woman's 90th birthday luncheon today. I will admit that I was a bit nervous, especially when I realized that this gathering was going to be small. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm the first to brag on my children's amazing gifts. They are sweet and engaging, curious and generally polite. However, Emma (aged 5) also has a propensity to talk about death. Especially with anyone over about 40. "You're 59?" she'll ask sweetly. "Are you going to die soon?" After reminding them that people of the generation of the birthday lady (as well as that of our hostess) expect children in public to be polite and making Emma promise not to talk about death, we headed off to lunch. The small gathering ended up being the celebrant, our hostess, one other neighbour and ourselves. No one to hide behind.

I'm typing this blog post up today at the instigation of my mother, but I want to remember this day myself. My daughters were perfect little ladies this afternoon. Yes, Emma drank her tea with her spoon and I had to keep Katie from dipping into the sugar bowl with her fingers. But, remembering that they are 7 and 5, I am proud to bursting with how my little ones behaved. They were a delight to share this afternoon with. They remembered their "pleases" and "thank you's." They helped to set and clear the table, allowing the older women to sit and chat. They passed things and no one talked about the birthday lady dying!

Life has not been easy in this congregation for the past six months or so. Not everyone has felt the love that we have for these people. Nor have we always felt loved. But today, on a special occasion, by an invitation and the good behaviour of two young ladies, love was shared around a table. I was able to tell my daughters today that their behaviour didn't just make me happy, it had told three other people that they are loved, important, respected. I want to remember that.

Spiritual Discipline of Apologizing

It's amazing how God prepares us for every situation. Yesterday morning, during a devotion time, I read a story of a mother continually interrupted by her young daughter getting out of bed. Nothing unusual, a drink of water, going to the bathroom. Finally, the girl calls for her mother again, and the frustrated parent rushes into the bedroom, with a "What is it, now?" "We forgot to pray, Mommy," she says, and begins what the family has been memorizing. "Love is patient, love is kind..." Mom, of course, is struck with remorse and joins her daughter in prayer. (I'm not telling the story as well as the author did, but I can't remember where I read it, or I'd just repost it here.)

Anyway, last night, we had an instant replay of almost the same scenario at our house. Mom trying to get oldest son to bed. Sisters provoking and screaming at each other. Mom comes in screaming. Leaves, promising to return to deal with the situation when baby is asleep. Can't figure out where daughters have learned to shriek like that at each other. While changing baby, hears daughters coming downstairs. Mom yells again. Baby is finally down and Mom has a moment to think before heading back to girls' room.

The story changes slightly here. The devotion that I read in the morning comes back to me and I gather up a Bible and fresh water bottles for the girls. I'm still so angry with them that I'm shaking, but Grace comes and I apologize for my part in the whole terrible scene. Forgiveness is instantly granted. Amazing. Then slowly, together, we go through 1 Corinthians 13 and talk about what love is and isn't. It's enlightening for us all. There are as many examples of Mama's bad behaviour as children's. More Grace, and I kiss them goodnight, tell them I love them and apologize for loving them so imperfectly. We decide that this would be a good passage to work on memorizing next and I leave them repeating, "Love is patient. Love is kind. It is not jealous, it does not brag and is not...Eric can't?....Mama!! What's that word?"

They are so sweet. I am so grateful for their example. For their forgiveness. For the opportunity to grow closer to my Saviour by being their mother. For these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is Love.

A Sweet Goodbye

Hello, my name is Sarah and I'm addicted to sugar. It may sound silly to some. Surely with so many more "serious" addictions out there, sugar isn't such a big deal. In truth, the human body becomes addicted to sugar in the same way as alcohol and heroin. The effects are less in most people, but the pathways are the same. In some, like myself, the body reacts in a much stronger way and the addiction can be tough to kick. There are some physical ramifications to this as well, but today I wanted to talk about the main reason that our family is kicking the sugar habit.

Paul writes in 1 Corinthians that while everything is permissable (to eat), not everything is beneficial. And while everything is allowed, "I will be mastered by no thing." I serve only one master in this life - or try to - and will no longer be mastered by sugar. Like those in AA, I recognize that I am powerless over this addiction and that only God's work in my life will be sufficient to overcome it. I am so grateful for what He is about to do!

Today is Day 4 in this new walk. It is tough for me, perhaps tougher for my children whom I confess I have trained badly in this area, but it is exciting to have been free for four whole days! I look forward to what God will do in the future. Please pray with (and for) our family as we step out in faith to do, as my aunt says, "the next right thing."

Sarah

Spiritual Parenting

I said last week I'd write more about sewing with my girls.  Here is the promised update:

When I was small my mother would sew with me.  Simple patterns for sundresses, shorts, easy stuff.  We'd cut out the patterns and I'd struggle through pinning them to the hideous fabric I wish I could say my mother had chosen for me.  She would sit at her sewing machine and do a couple of seams, then invite me to come and finish off that particular piece.  Without fail, I would sit down and the thread would break.  Or the needle would come unthreaded.  Or the fabric would jam in the hole-plate-thingy.  It was all to easy for me to conclude that the sewing machine hated me.  It knew I was coming, it sensed my fear, and gleefully it thwarted my every attempt to use it.

Kind of like parenting.  Oh, I don't think that my children hate me; analogies always break down somewhere.  But just when I think that the parenting machine is humming right along, the thread breaks.  Usually my thread.  We've established an order, a comfortable pace or method of doing things.  Sure it's tedious to get some of those pins (guidelines) in place, but all in all we're doing alright.  Until I get to the sewing machine.  Or the math workbook.  Or the room cleaning.  And once again I've been thwarted.

Most of you know how much I love my four little ones.  You may not know that I grew up in a similarly loving home, but I did.  There are very few things that my husband and I have said we will not do like my parents.  We have said, however, that we will not yell - as in significantly raise the volume of our voices - at our children.  It is an intimidating and, ultimately, ineffective way of communicating, especially with someone so much smaller than you.  I confess, this week, I have done a lot of yelling.  I have often felt thwarted in my parenting, like something is out to get me. 

In my encounters with the sewing machine as a child, I usually quit trying after what seemed like forever, but in reality was probably only a few minutes of struggle.  I stopped sewing with my mother (I'm sorry about that, Mom) when I was about ten.  It was too frustrating.  I'm tempted to do that with parenting sometimes.  It can be too frustrating.  But I realized something today: I've started sewing again.  Literally.  My husband bought me a new sewing machine in the Fall.  I read the manual (always good for me) and gave it a whirl.  After a false alarm call to the company about a suspected missing part ("No, ma'am, that lever is inside the machine.), and several of my childhood mishaps, I'm sewing.  I've actually started a quilt as one of my New Year's Resolutions.  And I know that if I can take up something as eternally insignificant as sewing, certainly I can persevere in my parenting.  It helps to read the manual and just give it a whirl.  There will certainly be false alarms and regressions to my childhood, but I'll be parenting just the same. 

I was reminded of something important and encouraging today in an article by Leslie Leyland Fields in Christianity Today.  She writes about worrying less about being a successful parent and more about being a faithful one.  She says,
              
         "Parenting, like all tasks under the sun, is intended as an endeavor of love, risk, perseverance, and above all faith.  It is faith rather than formula, grace rather than guarantees, steadfastness rather than success that bridges the gap between our own parenting efforts, and what, by God's grace, our children grow up to become." 

Amen.

The Spiritual Discipline of Toothbrushing?

We've just returned from a morning-long trip to the dentist.  I am trying so hard to just give thanks for having dental insurance, a good dentist, and three out of five of us with no cavities.  But...

But it's only three out of five.  My entire life I have struggled with poor dental hygiene.  It is certainly a sin-area for me.  I dread going to the dentist because I know that I'm going to be scolded for the condition of my teeth and gums.  For several years I just refused to go.  No one likes to see the fruit of their sin scraped onto a sterile pad.  But then my sweet children came along with their perfect start-from-scratch teeth and I knew that for their sakes it was time to clean up my act.  Or at least my teeth.  Last year I spent more time and money at the dentist's office than I even want to admit to, but I felt like I had made a life change.  Brushing my teeth as worship unto the Lord!

Today, at the office, I knew that I had slipped in the past month.  I dreaded going.  I feared the worst.  As it turned out, I didn't even know what the worst could be.  My teeth are fine.  No cavities.  (Insert a weak, I-don't-deserve-it "Praise the Lord.")  But two of my precious little ones have cavities in those perfect, fresh start teeth.  And I know that it's my fault.  Because while I have worked at my own hygiene, I haven't been faithful with theirs.  Too often, I let them go to bed without brushing or with a passing swipe at those precious pearls.  Too often, I give in to the cry of "I can do it myself," and don't insist on taking a closer look.  And now my babies have to endure what is perhaps my own greatest fear: dental work.  And it's all my fault.

I have spent the last few minutes searching in vain for the verse which talks about the sins of the parents being visited on their children.  I'm sure it's in there.  But the only verses I can find speak only of grace.  "The son will not share the guilt of the father, nor will the father share the guilt of the son." (Ezek. 18:20)  I am sick to think of the consequences that my children now face, but I give thanks today that they are not being punished for my lack of discipline. 

My sweet husband has encouraged me that we will now do what needs to be done.  Like every new day, we will begin again to do (as my wise aunt puts it) "the next right thing."  May God give us grace and strength to do so, and may you all be encouraged today to accept it when it is given.