Jul 10, 2015 | The Good Word, The Parenthood
Hey! Glad you’re here! In case you missed yesterday’s post, I’d love for you to click back and check it out before reading on. It might be helpful for following along. Maybe.
When our family decided to give media the Heisman for 40 days, I hoped it would just create some breathing space for us and for our kids. I could tell the desire to play a computer game or watch an episode of this or that was constantly tugging on my children’s heartstrings. And it pains me to see a beautiful, verdant backyard waiting for their feet to run across it, and to see them staring at a screen instead.
We needed to act, and with a little push from A. W. Tozer, we ripped it off like a bandaid. The quick way, not the slow, super painful way.
I knew the journey would be occasionally challenging, but mostly good and healthy, and it absolutely was. The good part. Less challenging than I expected, and more fulfilling than I imagined.
Shall we jump into some of the observations I made in the process?
1. First, I can use media to engage my children, or I can engage myself in the art of raising them. {Ouch}
Getting real honest here. It’s painful. In our house, I was leaning on TV like a cheap babysitter. On tough days, in a pinch, I’d let the two-year-old stare at episode after episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on a laptop because I’d rather have her “managed” than actually train her about how she needs to behave so that she can learn to entertain herself and play nicely while homeschool is happening.
My new term for giving a kid a media fix when they are behaving badly? Aiding and abetting.
Like the previously mentioned screen in the car, I sometimes put something on instead of engaging with my kids to help them learn how to be patient while we travel from place to place, or while they are between activities and need to entertain themselves.
I wonder if perhaps, for quite some time, we (as a society) have been using TV as a babysitter at home, instead of helping our kids learn how to function when we can’t personally be involved in entertaining them. And isn’t the natural consequence then that they can’t behave at a restaurant, or church, or in the classroom, or in other situations where they’re not being entertained?
Food for thought?
2. When they’re not being entertained, my kids are capable of some really amazing stuff.
Of course I think my children are ahhhmazing, but at the same time, I also think they’re just regular kids. Once we stopped overloading their tiny regular brains with someone else’s ideas, somehow it seemed like our kids’ imaginations went into super-tastic-overdrive. Their imaginative play just skyrocketed to a whole new level.
They already had different names for themselves and each other depending on whether they were baby cheetah cubs, dogs, cats, wolves, or superheroes. But now, there was so much more. Just one example? They now have seriously awesome superpowers like sticky jelly, a super-powerful shield (like Captain America) and “meat and fruit.” (Like no superhero ever before, I think. Still haven’t figured that one out yet.)
My six-year-old began writing dozens of creative stories that I think are almost publishable. Not because I said, “Hey, kid, go write a story” but because he felt like it, grabbed his journal and his markers, and just wrote, and illustrated, these incredible stories where he and his fellow superheroes solve problems, like the moon turning green, with their incredible rainbow rocket and their superpowers. And it’s a cliffhanger, but don’t worry! They make it back to earth long before they run out of oxygen, with plenty of time to drink their chocolate milk.
The boys are also waiters at their own restaurant, the Rainbow Star, and they invite visitors to select items off their impressive menu to enjoy. You better take them seriously when they give you the bill. Our babysitters have commented on how impressive their imaginations are, and one specifically drew the correlation between their ability to entertain themselves and our limits on traditional media entertainment — without me discussing what we were doing.
3. Books and Magazines are way underrated. Because truly? They’re awesome.
The adults in the family, as well as the kiddos, are now enjoying books like never before. Our eldest pours through the Nat Geo Kids and Rick Jr. magazines (we suggested these as birthday/Christmas gifts) when they hit the mailbox. The younger two are asking to be read to more, looking through and enjoying books on their own more, and listening more politely when the eldest reads with them. Everyone is excited about trips to the library and nearly every library book is read and read and read and read before it gets returned. We grownups sometimes go to bed and just read quality stuff now, which is wonderful… more on that in a moment.
(And, as you saw in the picture above, the Tank is hoping they’ll let him move in at the local library.)
4. Sleep is also way underrated. (And also? It’s awesome.)
You know those well-worn paths I told you about yesterday? One of ours went something like this. We decide we will watch something once we get the kids to bed, and then we’ll get in bed early. We get the kids to bed, then it takes us half an hour to find something we actually think is worthwhile watching. We comment to each other that we feel like we’re digging through the trash looking for something to watch on Amazon or iTunes. We are not cable subscribers, so the TV doesn’t dictate what we’re going to watch or when. From Parenthood to This Old House, every episode is always a choice, and we really like that. (And we like avoiding the commercials.)
We occasionally decide — even though this sometimes feels like a totally ridiculous waste of time to us — to watch something we’ve already seen because it is more appealing than anything else we’ve found. We have some pretty strict limits on what we’re willing to watch based on theme, content, and rating, (not just for the kids, but also for us adults) so that crosses a good bit of potential viewing content off the list for us. But let’s get to that thought another time.
We finally find something to watch after wasting 30 minutes looking, so we start the movie later than we intended. We pause around the halfway mark to pop our own popcorn (with one of these super cool stove top turny thing
poppers, because you guys know that microwave popcorn is honest-to-goodness horrible for you, right?) and, without fail, when the movie finishes, it’s much later than we wanted to get in bed.
So? We hurry ourselves to bed to get some shut-eye, and we start the following day tired, irritated, and less-than-our-best, all because we wanted to include a little entertainment in our schedule the night before. The morning feels rushed, and we nearly always regret staying up late to watch something the night before.
It’s a well-worn trail that I feel like a dufus for taking over and over.
Since we decided to take a break from entertainment altogether, we began creating this new pattern where we have a little bedtime snack, and actually get in bed before 9:00. We read a little more, we chat, and we turn the lights out at a reasonable hour. And man, we sure feel a lot better in the morning.
Okay. Now this Scripture I’m going to include here might feel a little fire and brimstone, but bear with me — think about these words, and consider the possibility that it is, at the very least, a partially accurate characterization of our society at present:
But know this, that in the last days perilous times will come. For men will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, unforgiving, slanderers, without self-control, brutal, despisers of good, traitors, headstrong, haughty, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having a form of godliness but denying its power. And from such people turn away! For of this sort are those who creep into households and make captives of gullible women loaded down with sins, led away by various lusts, always learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth. (2 Tim 3: 1-7, emphasis mine)
Do we love ourselves? How many selfies are being posted online every day? Do we love money? Well, we love the stuff we can buy with it. We love our trips to Starbucks and our new clothing and our Pinterest-inspired homes, right? Do we occasionally celebrate a lack of self-control with phrases like, “I saw it and I just couldn’t resist! {smiley face} #spoiled”?
Press on, though — the part that gets me the most: always learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth. We are so, so very educated as a society. At least, we have the opportunity to be incredibly well-educated. And we have access to a wealth of information, not just in our local libraries but also right at our own fingertips with access to the internet.
But how many of us are spending our media time watching ourselves and our friends on Facebook, watching TV that will teach us very little, or clicking over to see thirty-seven photos of celebrities we remember from our childhood? Do we feel proud when we actually read an entire article on current events from the New York Times, so much so that we share it on Facebook, even if it wasn’t that great?
Watch the news for half an hour, and you’ll probably get the same sense: while we might have access to a wealth of information, we’re not necessarily, as a society, getting any wiser.
But. Good News. The Good News is still the Good News, dear ones: God loves us anyway. His grace is unending and able to cover our mess.
But then how are we going to respond to the gift of grace? Will we say thanks and ask to return to our regularly scheduled program?
Well, you’re the one holding the metaphorical remote control for your life.
While I’m not suggesting everyone needs to leave their TV by the curb and never open Facebook again, I hope the anecdotal evidence I’ve shared with you from personal experience will inspire you to consider your relationship (and perhaps your children’s relationship) with media.
This is your one wonderfully precious life — would you be bummed if you got to the end of it and found out you’d spent 37% of your waking hours staring at a screen for entertainment?
The reward for making some hard-but-good changes around the Collie house has been significant. We feel like we have more time. We’re getting better sleep. Our kids are watching less, reading more, and often behaving better as a result.
When I asked the Hero Hubs what he thought the biggest benefit of our media fast was, he answered with one word: Perspective.
Stand two inches away from the canvas, and you will see a blur of colors and not much else. Step back a few feet, and the beautiful scenery created in one of Monet’s Water Lillies might stir your heart or move your jaw a little closer to the floor.
Sometimes you genuinely cannot get a good glimpse of something without stepping back. But step back, and you might find yourself overwhelmed by a new perspective — a gift you can’t put a price tag on.
What happened when our family “quit media” for a while? In a nutshell, I’d say we saw our lives, our kids, our time, and our purpose a little more clearly.
Maybe the hardest changes are the ones the produce the sweetest fruits.
xCC
P.S. After receiving lots of comments and questions following these posts, I’ve realized I haven’t actually explained where we’ve decided to draw the lines on media now that our fast is done! I’ll be posting on that soon, so stay tuned! 😉
Jul 9, 2015 | The Good Word, The Parenthood
It’s been a bit quiet around here. Here being the Collie house. And it’s been a really good quiet.
Back in February, I was reading a great book by A.W. Tozer — The Root of the Righteous
— and I was challenged deeply to think about the place I give media and entertainment in my life.
In one chapter, Tozer discusses a dulling, even numbing effect, which entertainment can have on our souls. It can become an addiction, sought after like a drug, numbing to the moral conscience — an escape. But what are we using it to escape? A life we’re not content with? Time thinking about the deeper purposes of our lives? Problems which escape will never fix? There was so much food for thought I read the chapter again and again, impressed with some new thought or conclusion each time.
It eventually brought about a decision — discussed of course with one Hero of a Hubs — that over Lent we would take a break from media. We’d slice our beloved together-on-the-couch movie night, scrap the occasional watching of an episode of something we find worth watching on Amazon Prime, and curb our web-surfing enthusiasm to only specifically searching for things like “Chicken Enchiladas Recipe” or “testing your soil for gardening” (happened). We also decided — other than keeping an eye on the Quiver Tree Photography page — we’d send Facebook packing.
And? Our 6, 4, and 2 year-old kids were coming along for the ride.
We returned from our recent adventure to visit HH’s folks in South Africa, and a week later, it was time for Operation Media Fast to begin. Within a day or two, I began to feel aware of what a pull my phone had on me. How often I had to glance at it just to be doing something, because… because nothing really! Because HH had gotten off the couch to go to the bathroom or because I just had a moment between this and that.
If you ever find yourself in the southern hemisphere, out in the bush on the back of a Land Rover hoping to view game, you might see the well-worn trails that certain animals are taking each day. Perhaps to a favorite feeding spot or a source of water, you’ll spot a worn down stripe of trampled brown grass leading off into the distance, enveloped on each side by verdant strips of green. These signs make it clear: some creature, or group of creatures, walks this path and walks it often.
I quickly began to recognize some of those worn-down trails in my own life: habits I never gave a second thought, to peek at Facebook for no particular reason and distract myself for half a second (which can turn into ten minutes) away from the present reality, or to check email when it’s not a good time to respond to email — so why check?
Within the first week, it seemed like there were pockets of time in my day that could’ve been used more productively, but I saw: they had been given over regularly to brief, sporadic, but consistent moments of distraction.
By week two, the kids weren’t asking quite so often to play with the Nook or see the Wild Kratts. (The gentle reply was usually, “We’re just taking a little break from that remember?”)
By week four, the once-default question when we’re all tucked into the mini-van was seldom heard: “Can we watch something?” became a rarity. The kids began to actually play or talk or just enjoy the scenery in the car, and, yes, sometimes they’d fight, but instead of turning something on to keep them engaged, I started choosing to engage myself to address the behavior that’s undesirable in them.
One of the hardest things for me to observe was a sudden, increased awareness of how much media is coming out of my kids. How many lines from how many movies they’re able to quote by heart. They recite scenes back and forth. They can say three words and I immediately know: that’s Curious George the movie, or that’s Despicable Me 2.
It’s not that they’re swearing or even being rude (most of the time) — but it really makes me sad because it demonstrates the potential their minds have to absorb incredible wealths of information very quickly.
What kind of water am I pouring for my little sponges to soak up?
Jen Hatmaker recently shared at a conference I attended that, in Jesus’ day, kids the same age as my oldest two… Were memorizing the Torah. Guys. That is the first five books of the Old Testament.
Memorized.
Our kids have so many advantages — the assistance of technology to help them learn, access to a world of knowledge at their fingertips, and nutrition leagues beyond what kids those days would’ve had to help feed their growing brains.
But, as a society, what are we doing? Well, we’re often feeding their bodies junk, and feeding their minds junk, too.
Not saying Curious George the movie is awful. Just asking — is it really profitable enough to let them watch it over and over? And over?
Why have I allowed them to see it so many times they’ve memorized it? More important, what could they be memorizing instead?
At the end of the media-free time, I seriously felt like our family had changed for the better. Like something that had a hold on us had broken. Our kids were different. Our schedules felt different. Our health felt different. Our marriage even felt better.
Now that we’ve made it through those 40 days without media, and we’ve continued to limit our media intake, I think I have at least a half dozen observations to share about the journey, so I’m going to hit the pause button here, and resume with more observations tomorrow.
But, in preparation for tomorrow’s discussion, allow me to leave you with some questions to ponder, if you will:
1) How much time do you think you spend thinking about the shows you watch or the things you see on Facebook when you aren’t actually engaged with that media? If you set a stop watch and observed for a day, do you think you’d be surprised?
2) How likely are you to plan real-life engagement with actual people around the timing of media events? (i.e., “The game” or “my show” comes on Wednesday at 7 so I really would rather plan for Thursday.)
3) How often do you rob yourself of an honest-to-goodness good night’s sleep because you’ve fallen into the trap of watching something and you just have to know how it ends?
4) Does discussion about what media is going to be consumed create arguments in your household? Remote wars, anyone?
Here’s the thing, friends. Entertainment is a stronghold. It’s a well-worn path in our society. Do we need to ask ourselves if it should be? To what extent are we willing to give it a place in our lives?
While the diversions we enjoy might be useful as an occasional source of relaxation, you can be sure your destiny isn’t waiting for you on the other side of the third season of Parenthood. But your real life might be waiting for you to give it some serious thought, and decide what purpose you really want to live for.
Join me tomorrow as I share a little more about this journey?
I’d love for you to stay tuned… 😉
xCC
Jun 13, 2015 | The Parenthood
Funny thing about life I’ve observed lately. At least about mine. A lot of the things that I love and cherish about my life’s story happened when I decided to go against the grain. The times when “normal” meant one thing, but my path looked different. Taking the route that sometimes felt more difficult often brought about results I’m really grateful for.
Like when normal was I just finished my Masters’ degree, it’s time to start applying for ‘real jobs’ that have something to do with what I spent five years at university for, my path was to work for a year at a Pawn Shop and then leave the country.
When normal was you’ve been awarded a scholarship for a PhD at the University of Edinburgh, my path was I’m a new Mom and I think we’re about to leave the country (again) so, after a year of pushing at this thing, I think I’m supposed to set it down and move on.
When normal was your almost-five-year-old is ready for public school, our story was get your boots on, Mama, you’ve got some homeschooling to prepare for.
Considering this, I look back and wonder how many times I sort of unquestioningly went with the flow instead of stopping to ask — is this the path for me?
About six weeks ago, a tiny little wiggle threw me into some deep parenting thoughts that relate to the topic at hand. Our six-year-old’s first wiggly tooth — a milestone he’d long awaited — signaled we were entering a bit of a new zone. I wasn’t planning on crying or keeping all his tiny teeth in some tin can to return to him at some suitably embarrassing moment. But I suddenly realized this meant we were about to enter the arena of The Tooth Fairy.
I wasn’t so pumped about that idea.
Here’s the thing.
First, I almost never have cash in my wallet. If teeth start dropping, that’s a real inconvenience. Second, I will soon have four children in my care. Do I really like the idea of putting money under a pillow for every. single. tooth. from. every. single. kid? And closely related to that thought — are we going to end up being the cheap parents? Is he going to chat with his buds on the playground and discover they’re all getting a fiver and he’s getting fifty cents?
And one more problem. He is on a top bunk with a little brother below him who is a light sleeper. Does this mean I will have to sneak into their room 28 times? In the dark? To try to find a tooth under a pillow?
What if I want him to get matchbox car or a chocolate treat instead of this being a financial transaction?
Plus, we once visited this village in southern England and there were fairies all over the place, in every store window throughout the town, and it was clear that it was like, a thing. Like, a religious thing. Something about that made me very itchy, so forgive me if I offend you, but I’m not a big fan of fairies.
I realized I needed a different story.
So I did what I usually do with ideas. I pondered it in my mind for about six weeks, thinking I better get to working on some kind of tooth fairy alternative. I procrastinated it until the tooth that wiggled and wobbled and jiggled and joggled for ages actually fell out — wowzers, I really had time to write a novel. And then the tooth was out and I said, “Heck! I need to do something!”
So I scooted off to sign some paperwork in town and cruised through the Piggly Wiggly on the way home. (Yes, that is also a thing, right here in Eastern North Carolina.) I picked up a bag of gummy worms and buried my face in my laptop as soon as I got home.
The results were a ballad of about 16 stanzas, introducing The Tale of the Wee Tooth Pirates. I won’t beladen you with its entirety, but here are a few stanzas to give you a good feel of it:
“In some landlubber neighborhoods
not too far from lake or from sea,
there travel a band of captains–
just as ruthless as they are wee.
…
These sea dogs shove off for one reason.
Lean closer, I’ll tell ya the truth.
Their Jolly Roger flies for this mission:
Collecting a freshly lost tooth.
…
The Pirates will come while yer sleeping,
to make peace with yer Mum or yer Dad,
and they’ll discuss the terms for surrender,
a good trade for the tooth that you had.
Negotiations can go on for hours;
it depends on the worth of the tooth.
They might offer coins or chocolate,
stickers, or a wee pile of loot.
I introduced a few ideas, like a Piratey Tooth Report Card, putting the tooth in a shoe by the fireplace instead of under the pillow (since the Pirates are too small to reach the bed) and remembering to brush since A tooth with a bucket of cavities sure won’t earn a bucket of loot!
Before bed on the night of the Lost Tooth, we read the story (which I printed out and glued into a folded slice of a cereal box to make it a “book”) and I was immediately overjoyed to hear the Bear hoping for a box of crayons or something other than dollar bills.
He was overjoyed the next morning when the Pirates traded ten points on his bike chart (he’s earning a new bike this summer) and a bag of gummy worms for his tiny tooth.
And I was overjoyed because Hero Hubs and I decided to write our own story, instead of falling into one that we didn’t really like, just because it was what everybody does. HH totally got into it and instead of the little Pirate report card I designed and planned to print out and fill in, he pulled a little piece of wood out of his stash in the shed, and I scribbled on it and he burned the edges.
We won’t do that every time, in case you’re wondering. Some Pirate report cards may be scribbled on the inside of a cereal box, kind of like their story. Different Pirates, different methods of delivery, right?
So. This is really the Sermon in a Nutshell, Moms, Dads, and children of all ages: You have permission to write your own story. Don’t forget that. Even though it can sometimes seem like you’re a salmon in a pond full of trout, heading in the wrong direction, you have the brains and the wherewithal to decide that this is the direction you need to go.
For your life. For your marriage. For your children. It is not always going to look how it looks for everyone else — and if it does always look how it does for everybody else, maybe that’s a cause for a alarm. (?!)
Whether it’s as big as a transcontinental adventure or as small as a decision about a Tooth Fairy, remember just letting life happen to you often means you’re not actually making the things that you want to happen happen. Yes, I made happen happen three times in that sentence. Forgive me.
Give yourself permission to mark out your own path, friends. And know that sometimes, that really means dropping anchor and listening closely to the Captain of your soul.
xCC
May 10, 2015 | The Parenthood
I’m so glad I didn’t miss the moment. He ran in with big eyes and a happy face — Mom, I made something for you! Come see! Sometimes I’m tempted make excuses because I have other things to do, but this time, somehow, thankfully I knew better.
He led me out the door, and into the carport, where he’d created a flower arrangement for me in the wagon. One flower from a beautiful blooming dogwood tree, one azalea, two different camellias, and a wild flower from the yard, thrown in for good measure.
I grab my phone to make sure I capture the moment.
We bring the flowers inside and they float in a bowl and make me smile for a couple of days.
My eldest, these days, I smile and shake my head when I think of him. I’m so proud of the sweet little young man he is becoming. He cares about making good choices and is genuinely remorseful when he makes mistakes. I marvel as he adds four digit numbers to four digit numbers faster than he can tie his shoes.
I grin from ear to ear reading the creative writing stories he scribbles into his green composition journal. His illustrations are so creative, I just can’t help but smile, breathe a deep sigh and soak it in. We play card games and laugh at how many times one of us has won, and the other hasn’t.
When I stop to think about it, this has been six years of amazing.
The precious little fellow in the middle. A wild card — I never know what to expect. At times he is so tender, so incredibly gentle. We snuggle up in his bed to read two books before his nap every day. Then I tickle his back and sing two songs. Last week he offered to tickle my back and sing me two songs instead. I often make up the songs as I go, so he followed suit, and the results were hilarious.
Sometimes when he wakes up in the morning, his big eyes stare straight through his Dad and me, it’s as if he visited another planet over night and he’s returned, completely speechless. He cracks unexpected jokes and we all laugh.
Four years of my heart just melting over and over, with this little guy.
And the baby girl. We find ourselves saying “This is the best” almost every day. The moment when she’s just woken up, and she hugs one of us with both arms, both legs, her head tucked up under our chins. Or the moment when I’m laying her down for her nap and her voice just coos like a dove, “I wuv hyu, Mama.” I’ve left her room in tears before. Overwhelmed. It’s just so precious.
She is also feisty and cheeky and still so often needs to be reigned in. So full of big emotions in such a tiny frame. It’s impossible to tickle her and watch her giggle and not feel like your own heart is about to burst. She was the gift that arrived four months before I knew I needed her, and has been giving joy by the bucketload to HH and to me ever since.
Two years of delight. Two years of joy with this one.
The thing about parenthood that has surprised me the most has been the gifts I’ve received in the process. A card that the eldest wrote me, full of kindness, love and thoughtful words, holds a place in my Bible. The hilarious moments the middle one has created with a funny comment or joke, I try to write them down, so that I can go back and enjoy them again. I knew parenthood was going to be about giving. I knew I’d be making sacrifices. I just never realized how incredible the return on investment would be.
Two years ago, we put a hand-me-down “big sister” t-shirt on our four-month-old baby girl as an April Fool’s Day joke. Some folks were congratulatory, some folks joked, and some folks were pretty honest about saying they thought we were crazy.
But parenthood has a way of being a bit like a flower arrangement in the wagon in the carport. You have to get up, go looking for the moments.
Moses was out with the sheep — and he had to turn aside from what he was doing to go see that burning bush. And he didn’t immediately recognize it as holy ground — the voice of God spoke to him, Take off your shoes.
The eldest is reading stories he wrote to his two younger siblings. This is holy ground.
I’m so thankful to look back at the example of my Mother, who has never stopped laboring, right from the day I was born. Labors of love, one after another, her gifts to me and my siblings. Selfless. Tireless. Continuously generous. Thank you, Mama. This is what it looks like to pour yourself out in love — we are privileged recipients.
Lord, help me love these children like my Mama loved me.
Although we don’t live in the biggest house or drive the nicest cars in town, we feel like we’re about the richest family in our little town, because these three children are ours, and they’re like those flowers in the carport. It takes effort — at times, it’s doggedly hard. But be still, take off your shoes, look carefully and see — there are so many gifts in this journey called parenthood. I could start counting and I’d run out of paper before I ran out of gifts on the list.
Sometimes you have to turn aside to see your gifts, friends. Take off your shoes and see the holy in your every day. There are flowers in your carport too — you might just need to make a little effort to see them.
And around late October? We’re looking forward to an exponential increase in joy. We’ll be unwrapping the gift of one more little person joining our family.
We’re excited, we’re thrilled and we’re not April Foolin’ this time.
Here’s to bucketloads more flowers in our carport.
xCC
Mar 20, 2015 | Stories, The Good Word, The Parenthood
There’s this thing about the childlike faith thing that unravels me a little bit — I’m not sure I can put my finger on it. Maybe it’s because I see my children as just a little wild, just a little spontaneous… just a little too young for me to figure out how faith like a child can get it — the grand and glorious goodness of a humble and holy God.
Does it take wisdom to take Jesus to heart?
Doesn’t it?
For all my sensibilities, I would’ve thought so.
But a little child shall lead them…
An impromptu prompting came to my mind on a homeschooling Monday morning. Our sweet little Tiger Tank safely dropped off at preschool, the Belle beside me crunching a few crumbs at the table, the Bear and I sat down to begin our day, and I laid my big Bible on the table, and turned to Galatians.
Can you read chapter 6, verse 7 for me?
I helped him find the way.
He began: “Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, that will he reap.”
We talked about the big words in this verse, and then about sowing seeds and reaping harvests. If I sow an apple seed, will an orange tree grow? No. Since the beginning, God created the world so that the seeds we sow will reap a harvest according to the seed. And if someone says I can plant these apple seeds and grow orange trees? They are deceiving me. (Or trying to.) We talked and questioned and talked a bit more.
We’ll be planting our garden soon. And we talked it out: our cucumber seeds will give us cucumber plants. Our tomato seeds will give us tomato plants.
But what other kinds of seeds can we sow?
We looked back at the adjacent page, laid open for the reading, and remembered something we talked about last year: the fruits of the Spirit. We can sow seeds of kindness. If you are kind to your brother, he is likely to be more kind to you. We can sow seeds of gentleness. We can sow seeds of patience, goodness, self-control.
And can we sow bad seeds? And what happens if we do? What will we reap if we hurt? If we’re mean? Don’t you receive your own discipline if you hurt your brother or sister? These are different seeds that grow different fruits.
He took the concept to heart, and ran with it. It took him a moment to put it into words, but then I was so struck my jaw hung open, hearing his observation:
“The bad roots tangle the good roots and pull the good roots, and they break off the good roots so that they can’t find water.”
I hadn’t even mentioned the word “roots” — or thought about roots yet, for that matter.
Wide-eyed at his observation, wondering about his understanding, I quickly wrote down what he’d said.
Isn’t this true: There is no fruit if there is no root.
And isn’t this a truth about life? For all the good we might be attempting to sow, if we are also sowing bad seeds — we only have this one life, this one garden to plant in — and we can’t think that the one will not affect the other.
If we keep sowing seeds of anger, and we protect that plant, and allow it to flourish instead of pulling it up like the weed that it truly is — won’t that anger affect the rest of our lives? Deep underneath the soil, those roots will strangle the good things trying to take root, find water and grow.
We might find a convenient tomato cage to put around our bitterness, try to keep it to its own little corner of the garden — but those roots will stretch out under the ground in any direction they choose. And they’ll hinder the growth and flourishing of the good seeds we’re sowing. Deep under the soil, things are happening we can’t see and don’t always understand.
We discovered it quickly in our garden last year: it’s hard to grow good things. It’s easy to grow weeds.
On the way home from a photo session that evening, the Hubs and I were chatting, and I shared about the Bear’s significant comments on that Bible verse that morning. Then a professional athlete came up in conversation who was once the premier player in his sport. He won and won and won, and changed the face of the sport he represented, and then it all came crashing down when a big bright light was shone on his personal life. A mistress, an affair, infidelity — it seemed like all the world had front row seats to watch his world, falling apart.
And we thought long and observed: the roots were all planted in the same soil. For all the care and discipline and focus and effort he showed in excelling in his sport, still the lack of care and focus and discipline in his personal life meant tangled up roots — the bad seeds he sowed in his personal life produced bad fruit, and the good fruit of his professional life was a casualty when it came time to harvest.
For all our efforts, we are still only human at the best of times. We get angry. We get bitter. We get hurt and we react.
What hope is there for any of us, who will only ever fall short?
Paul wrote about it to the Romans, {see ch. 7} his observation about how he did what he did not want to do, and did not do what he did want to do. Sin dwells in me, he wrote. Oh wretched man that I am! Who will save me from this body of death?
I thank God — through Jesus Christ Our Lord!
Here is the hope for all of us: Jesus, who died to sin and died for sin, so that we could be freed from sin to live a new life in Him.
Paul continued this theme in chapter 8 with the glorious news:
There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has made me free from the law of sin and death. For what the law could not do in that it was weak through the flesh, God did by sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, on account of sin: He condemned sin in the flesh, that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us who do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.
We know we fall short. We know we sow amiss. But the law is fulfilled for us in Him — for us who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit.
Left to our own devices, we will always only ever be a mess. But if we yield our lives to the Spirit of God, Who can dwell in us, and Whose fruit is kindness, gentleness, patience, self-control… there is hope for us still.
We can sow kindness, and reap it. Sow gentleness and receive it in return.
The gardens of our hearts will not likely be weed-free until some glad morning when we’re called to our forever home in Him… but there is hope that even in this life, we can find help to get some weeds out of our hearts, to sow good seeds, and bear good fruit.
The afternoon of our great conversation, there was a marked difference in the Bear’s behavior. He was carefully choosing to say “Yes ma’am.” To listen and immediately do what I’d asked. To be respectful and polite and to share.
You’re being such a thoughtful boy today! I thanked him and praised his efforts.
He quickly replied as if it must’ve been obvious: “I want to sow good seeds.”
xCC
Oct 17, 2014 | 31 Days, The Parenthood
Hello, how are you, g’day and welcome to you! This post is part of a series I’m working my way through in the month of October, called Swim Your Own Race. If you’d like to start at the beginning (it is a very good place to start, after all) you can do so, right here. I hope you enjoy diving in!
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An opening of the honesty box at the expense of seeming weird is probably pretty well overdue in this series. You might already think I’m an odd cookie, but perhaps I can help you out and let you know for sure.
Kidding. I guess.
So, a certain little holiday is just around the corner here in North America, which is also celebrated in some other parts of the world. And it is my least favorite holiday, ever. I REALLY don’t enjoy diverting my children’s eyes from all the blood and gore lining the aisles of some of the stores we visit. And on a road trip earlier this month, there were awful, awful images on billboards — bloody, gory, scary people staring right off the road into the car, inviting people to visit some corn field where they could get so scared they might wet their pants.
Fortunately the kiddos were distracted and we kept on truckin’.
In our neighborhood, however, there’s a little tradition of dressing up, the families getting together to share a meal, and the kids walking around the neighborhood together, to collect their beloved candy.
I love love love getting to know my neighbors better and getting to spend time with them so we are totally keen to jump in again this year. Even though it is my least favorite holiday.
The boys have been chatting about what they’d like to dress up as, pretty much since last year, and they came to the conclusion that they wanted to be the Wild Kratts. {Two brothers, one with blonde hair, one with brown, who travel the world on creature adventures… it is very fitting for our little guys.}
So the Hubs and I finally chatted a bit about costumes last night. And I found myself strangely torn… we’re getting to the weird spot, so bare with me.
As we went to bed last night, I was praying and talking to the Lord about the fact that my children are always asking me for things, and it kind of weighs me down, and I wondered if, since the Lord’s children are always asking Him for things, does it weigh Him down, too? Like, does He ever long for, and desire intimate relationship with His children that is not based on the exchange of goods and services?
And then, thinking about what our children want versus what they need, and the boundaries we set, (but how do we find them?), I asked:
How do I find a balance — world hunger vs. Halloween costumes? How do I practically live this out?
And I realized that one issue was framing a lot of things for me. Maybe it seems weird, but it is what it is, and maybe it’s because I have seen what I’ve seen and been where I’ve been, but when I spend money on non-necessities here, I constantly think about the non-negotiables someone else is missing somewhere else.
So I try my best to live frugally and give generously, but I think there’s an underlying layer of guilt that just frames everything to do with finances. Because we have what we have, and while by American standards it might not seem like much, I know better. I’ve seen.
I asked this question and sat still, and took a breath, and then opened my Bible. I just so happened to come to a passage of Scripture, which was the next one for me to read on my reading plan, that took my breath away with the answer.
In Matthew 26, this woman anoints Jesus with oil from her alabaster jar. The oil in that jar was very costly, like a years’ wages some scholars imagine, and the disciples were indignant about it. “Why this waste? For this fragrant oil might have been sold for much and given to the poor.”
But when Jesus was aware of what was going on in their hearts, this was His reply: “Why do you trouble the woman? For she has done a good work for Me. For you have the poor with you always, but Me you do not have always. For in pouring this fragrant oil on My body, she did it for My burial. Assuredly, I say to you wherever the gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be told as a memorial to her.”
Two very important lessons were contained in this passage for me last night.
First, Jesus explained that We will always have the poor… Now that doesn’t mean we give up on the poor, give up on making a difference with regard to the poverty we see in the world around us. We are specifically instructed to care for the poor, and Jesus went so far as to explain to John, when asked if He was the Messiah, that, among other signs that He was the One (the blind see, the deaf hear…) He mentioned that The poor have the gospel preached to them. Caring for the poor is close to the heart of God.
However, the fact that there are poor people in the world cannot define all of our actions.
Solving the problem of poverty cannot be the cause that gets us out of bed in the morning. Nor can the environment, not can the AIDS epidemic, orphans or politics.
This is where the question comes in: What or Who Are You Swimming For?
A few months ago, I shared a post here about cloth diapering. I’d been at it for well over a year, and, at the core, it was just something I felt convicted to do for the sake of the environment and to be financially thrifty. I felt a tug about it and jumped in.
Shortly after I wrote that post, I got a sense that the Lord was telling me to take a break from cloth diapering. The Hubs also suggested that we take a break.
I didn’t want to take a break. But finally, it seemed clear that that was the Lord’s direction, so I did.
Just a few days later, the Belle came down with an awful stomach bug. While I’ll spare you the details, I will just simply explain that I was very grateful I’d listened to the guidance of the Holy Spirit and obeyed God. She was wearing disposables… glory, hallelujah!
This is the second important lesson from Matthew 26: Caring for the poor is a high calling, but following Jesus is a higher calling. Every single conviction that God has ever or will ever place on our hearts has to remain secondary to the call to love and follow Christ. Let’s put it this way:
Every conviction has to have Christ at the Center or it will be elevated above Christ in the end.
I sometimes resist the leading of the Spirit to cling to the comfort of an old conviction.
We’ve come back to Hebrews 12 repeatedly throughout this series, and guess what? this is a very appropriate moment to do so again:
Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
Where do we fix our eyes as we swim the race of our lives?
Only always ever on Jesus.
We might all be surprised to realize that there are things we are clinging to in the Name of Christ, that might actually be distracting us from truly following Christ, listening to His Spirit, and daily submitting to His will.
He has to be the one that we’re swimming for — every cause, every conviction, every care has to come in second. What freedom we can find when we simply fix our eyes on Jesus!!
I’m grateful that this moment has reframed a lot of life for me. How do we decide how best to swim forward with our race?
Thank goodness it’s simple, because I’m not hungry for making things complicated. We keep on looking at Jesus.
Swim well today, friends.
xCC
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