The words he reads

He held up the game from the cupboard to show me. An old Mastermind game I used to school Matt at while we laid in bed on winter evenings a few years back. “Look, Mommy!” he said, pointing to the top of the game, excitement and surprise on his face. “Look what it says!” I read the word to myself, Mastermind.

“Yes, Jacob. I see. That’s a game Mommy and Daddy used to play.”

“But Mommy! LOOK! Look at what it says!” His big brown eyes were open even wider, eyebrows raised. A broad smile pushed his chubby cheeks up, revealing his beautifully straight teeth. His expression was one of delightful surprise. Oh, how I love the perfectly expressive faces that boy makes.

“What’s it say, Bud?” From where I stood, I could see it. But I didn’t think he knew what it said.

“It says, ‘Jesus Loves Me.’ See?” He pointed to the game name and cocked his head towards me with a pleased look. Then he put the game away and continued playing with the cars he had previously lined up for an important meeting.

I sat there, contemplating our brief conversation. Sweet boy, I thought. My sweet boy, always stopping to pray when someone says they don’t feel well, or anytime I say,  “Ouch!” Always remembering to pray for our pastor, his family, and anyone we’ve encountered that day, and reminding us to do the same. Reminding me now that Jesus loves me by pretending he read those words on the top of a silly game. …And yet he looked so convinced that’s what they said. Like he wasn’t pretending at all.

Conversation now tucked away in my mind somewhere, all but forgotten, I continued with my own task of folding the mound of laundry while watching the kids work on puzzles and host car meetings.

It wasn’t until the next day when I thought of that conversation again. The sun streamed through the blinds and landed on the same spot the kids had been playing the day before. This time, he sat stacking blocks. I said something to him – although I don’t remember what – causing him to look up my direction.

I was greeted with another look of surprise. “Mommy! Look! I never saw dat before!” He hopped up and ran to the piano, a huge grin spreading across his face.

“What’s that, Buddy?” I tried to see what he was pointing to. All I saw was the piano.

“Wight dere, Mommy! Look! Look what it says!” He pointed just above Middle C, at the word across the front of the blonde spinet, Kimball. “Mommy! I can’t believe I never saw it before! It says, ‘Jesus loves me!’ Do you see it?”

I smiled. “I see it, Buddy. I see it. You’re right, Jacob. Jesus loves you. Very much.

Pleased with his new discovery, he headed back to his tower of blocks mumbling to himself with a smile, “I can’t believe I never saw dat before. It’s wight dere.

And it got me thinking…

Where am I missing the signs. The signs that are right there all along. The places Jesus is telling me that HE loves ME, but I never stop to notice?

Then last night. The evening of Palm Sunday. The start of Holy Week. He said it again.

We were in his bedroom getting on his PJs. He looked up at the sign that hangs above where his crib used to be. “The Prince Sleeps Here.” And on his wall, J-A-C-O-B. “Mommy! See dat? It says it everywhere, Mommy! Jesus Loves Me. Jesus Loves Me. It’s everywhere!” He said it twice, first pointing to the letters of his own name, then to the oval sign.

I stood there, lost in thought as the kids argued about what the sign said. In the distance – although she was right next to me – I could hear Annalise’s voice, “No, Jacob. That says your name. Your name is spelled J-A-C-O-B. It does not say Jesus Loves Me... NO it DOESN’T… NO! NO, Jacob, it DOESN’T… Mah-aaaahhhhhmm! Tell Jacob what it says! He doesn’t believe me!”  I could hear it. And I saw Jacob insisting that Yes, that is exactly what it says. But I was focused on something else.

What he had said just before the argument broke out. It was just a sentence or two…

“It says it everywhere, Mommy! Jesus Loves Me. It’s everywhere!”

I was lost in thought again. Am I missing the signs? Do I see it everywhere? My too-wise-two-year-old sees it. Every word he sees reminds him – reminds me – of the love of Jesus.

Today was a family day. Beautiful sunshine, spring warmth. Jacob got to plan our day. We spent it at the park. Along the water. On a trail walk. Together. I loved every minute. And when we got home, we headed back out for a bike ride, wanting to soak up every last bit of warm sun.

But first, on the porch, something caught my eye. I called my boy over and knelt down next to him. “Look, Bud! Look right there! Do you know what that says?”

Jacob looked at where I pointed, to the Easter garden we planted a few weeks back. The cross we made from the sticks we gathered and the tomb from a little peat pot. There was a sign, too, with a verse, but that isn’t where I pointed. I touched the cross and the tomb and looked in my boy’s big brown eyes. “Do you know what that says, Jacob?”

He looked puzzled at first, there were no words to read.

But then he smiled his big broad smile, and he looked up at me proudly. “Yep! I know what it says. It says, Jesus Loves ME!”

“You’re right, Buddy. That’s exactly what it says.”

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On this Holy Week, this week we remember the last days of Jesus The Messiah, will you too remember what he says?

He whispers it all around us. In the blessings poured out. In the thoughtfulness of a neighbor. In the surprise snow on the first day of spring, then in the spring sun peaking through the blinds, landing on one boy with two big brown eyes and a broad smile. It’s just right there, but sometimes it’s so easy to miss.

A million daily whispers.

And he shouts it from the past. In a life lived divine. In a sacrifice so great. On a cross and in an empty tomb. He says to you still today, “I love YOU.

 

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” ~ John 3:16

“But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” ~ Romans 5:8

“But you, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.” ~ Psalm 86:15

everything-all-nothing-none

We often overuse words, don’t we?

Love. The same word that is used to describe my feeling for my husband and kids, my feeling for my God and His adoration of me, is also used to describe my feeling for chocolate. And a hooded sweatshirt on a rainy day. And extra crunchy zesty dill pickles…

…And also standing in an office supply store looking at the bazillion choices of pens, sticky notes, and organizational supplies.

The same could be said for hate. I hate child abuse. I hate lies and what they do to people, families, and most importantly, to souls...

…I also hate folding laundry, approaching a light as it turns red, and looking at my now empty coffee cup (who am I kidding, I wanted to say “bowl of ice cream.”)

I could go on… Crazy. The horrible shooting was crazy. As was the fact that 2 friends of mine that have no connection in my own world actually know each other outside of my own world, or the height to which my li’l mutt can jump from a sitting position, and also the deliciousness of chocolate silk pie. (Am I right, Matt and Tom?) It’s all crazy. 

My purpose is not to make light of how much I love my family, or of the seriousness of child abuse or a terrible tragedy. It is to point out that we use words too broadly. Overuse them and misuse them. To the point they tend to lose their power.

Everything. All. Nothing. None. Always. Never.

These words – and others – keep jumping out at me lately. Such absolutes. Extremest extremes. Completely and fully, without exception. And yet…

Everything’s gone wrong today.” Really? Not one thing has gone right?

“What did you do at school today?” “Nothing.Hmmm…

No one likes me.” I can think of at least a few people who might…

I always get in the longest line at the grocery story.” Ok, maybe this one’s true.

And my kids’ personal favorites, “You always let him (or her) go first (or fill in the blank.)And “I never get to do what I want!” Always and never??? I must be a terrible mother.

Unfortunately, I am just as guilty as they are. Maybe not of so much drama (no comment, Matt), but at least of the overuse/misuse of these words that have the capacity to carry much more weight than they typically do.

But these words, these extremest of extreme words, have been watered down, muddied. And they roll off our tongues as easily as love and hate and that crazy dog. And they land on ears that receive them with the same feebleness in which they were spoken. And the more they are used this way, the more their power is stripped, until eventually, they are incapacitated and carry no force at all.

But somehow, these most-extreme-lacking-all-power-words crawled into some space in my brain where they’ve sat patiently dormant, waiting to unleash their full strength. Lately, that is exactly what they’ve done. Every time (and yes, I mean every time) I’ve heard or read one of these words the past few weeks, the weight of what they carry with them has hit me. Hard.

And I’m learning that I’m a very slow learner.

Is it just me, or have you, too, read these verses a million times (ha! watery word?) and didn’t really consider the true full meaning because – just in our minds – the words have lost the force behind them? 

Read these. Slowly. Consider their weight (although the emphasis is my own.) Because I’m pretty sure God doesn’t intend on us using a watered-down, muddied, lacking-power version of His Powerful Word…

“The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” ~ Philippians 4:6

This isn’t a new one. It isn’t one that really crept up on me, either. It’s one in which I’ve recognized it’s full power but have had to work on truly believing it and living in it’s full power. Different things. Can I really live not anxious about anything? Can I truly give everything to God? Tough request, for me at least. But I’m workin’ on it…

“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Ok, yes. I know I should give thanks in all circumstances. Don’t always like it, but I know all circumstances means all circumstances. And lately, rejoice always has been a constant in-my-face reminder. And always is a lot of the time, you know. Rejoice? That much? Or how about the phrase in the middle? Pray without ceasing? Do you realize just how much that is? Yet, it is the will of God in Christ Jesus for YOU. And that means for me.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” ~ 1 Corinthians 1:3-4

Speaking from personal experience, it can be hard to feel like there is a God of any comfort in the midst of your own trial, let alone a God of all comfort. But now, a little further on the other side, I can see a bit more clearly. And I can see how my own affliction and God’s comfort through it has helped me comfort others with any affliction, even some vastly different than my own. Then that last phrase… I can only hope and pray.

“So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.”            ~ 1 Corinthians 10:31

All I do – including eating or drinking – should be to the glory of God. So I guess that includes teaching, parenting, laundry, cooking, cleaning, and sharing the road with Canadians. Yes, even standing in the longest line at the grocery store or… finding a place to park at (gasp) Costco.  Do it to the glory of God.

“Let all that you do be done in love.” ~ 1 Corinthians 16:14

Oh dear. Now I’m sunk. All I do, as in every-little-thing I do, should be done in love? As in, the really-truly-Godly-kind-of-love? Not the I-really-love-crunchy-dill-pickles kind of love? Impossible! How can I? After all, I love my kids and husband so incredibly much and can only seem to demonstrate this to them some of the time. Lots of the time, I’m just a jerk. How can I possibly be loving to the mouthy student? Or to a student’s mean and hurtful and maybe even abusive parent? Or when it is 2 hours past my kids’ bedtime and they’re still awake doing everything they possibly can to make me not be loving?

Or when I’ve been hurt by someone and really would just rather write them off? Maybe I could just “write them off” in love? No???

All I do. Without being anxious, but with rejoicing. With thanksgiving, and while praying continually. For the glory of GOD, and all of it done in LOVE. 

It seems like an impossible task.

And then this…

“His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.” ~ 2 Peter 1:3

Read it again. Slowly.

Not impossible. And not if I just work harder, do better. Because on my own strength, it is impossible. But through my knowledge of him, and from his divine power I have everything I need for a godly life.

Everything.

Spring Fever

Lovin’ this sunshine. After a frustrating morning of multiple time-outs and tantrums, laundry and changing bedding, I had enough.

It’s amazing how quickly the sun can melt away 3 very bad attitudes. 

The kids and I enjoyed a nice walk to the library then continued our walk on two quick errands. Then, just one more stop to take a “break”:

photo(53)We just couldn’t wait until we got home to dive into our books. Plus, the scent of coffee and sun shining on the outdoor tables was too enticing to pass up.

On our way home, we gathered rocks and sticks so we could make this:

photo(57)
We decided to add a few finishing touches to improve on our last year’s version.

photo(56)Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews in Latin, “Iēsus Nazarēnus, Rēx Iūdaeōrum”

photo(58)Now we just wait for the grass to sprout.

And like last year, with our leftover peat pots and soil, we planted some herbs, veggies, and flower seeds:

photo(54)Bring on the peppers, zucchini, and cilantro!

Other improvements from last year: All this was done outside. No dirt on the table or dining room floor. No one cried due to mud in their eyes. No tantrums, and no arguing. I’m telling ya, that sun produces miracles.

So when we were finished, we headed inside only long enough to clean up our dirty hands, then back outside for another bike ride. It’s just hard to stay indoors with this kind of weather. Plus, all this walking and riding was a great way to tucker out the kids for an hour early bedtime… (Which means I actually got them to bed at the time I dream of doing so – the time I claim is their actual bedtime, despite the fact that they’ve been in bed at that time exactly never. Except tonight, that is.)

And next on the Spring to-do list: SPRING CLEANING.

Caution: HOT

Annalise has some fancy rolls of tape, each with a different design or picture on them. It is really a nice addition to the mounds of oh-so-adorable paper/glitter glue/tape creations. A mom just can’t get enough of those, you know. The fancy tape also comes in handy when hanging, say, artwork you’ve created just especially for your doggy’s kennel decor. “So she has something pretty to look at while she’s locked up.” How very thoughtful, wouldn’t you say? I’m sure the hours locked in the box are worth it, now that she has beautiful drawings to eat view.

One of Annalise’s tape rolls doubles as a “Caution” sticker. It reads: CAUTION HOT!

After asking her dad what it said, she realized how useful this tape could be. So, she began sticking it in appropriate places as a clear warning to all.

The oven door:

photo(50)(And yes, that is the reflection of Jacob in his undies in the background. Undies and a shirt is an improvement. Lately, he’s preferred no clothing at all.)

My curling iron:

photo(51)Useful stuff.

Before taping up her warnings, Annalise was curious about the message. “Daddy, what does ‘Caution Hot’ actually mean?”

Matt explained it was like a warning that something was hot, so people won’t get burned.

“So, what’s hot?” she wondered out loud.

His reply, “Well, whatever you put the tape on.”

And so with a look of panic, she quickly ripped her “Caution Hot” tape off her finger.

 

 

And also… this:

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Yeah. I couldn’t believe it either. Not sure I’m ready for this.

But, for those especially bad hair days, or when you have a massive zit in the middle of your forehead, or when you feel like crying because your “baby” is looking like she’s just aged a few years just because her hair got shorter and now it’s time to register her for kindergarten, or all of the above, that fancy tape can really come in handy…

photo(52)So there’s that.

Parenting Ain’t for Sissies

People always say parenting is hard.

Mom always said, “Parenting ain’t for sissies, Baby.”

There never were truer statements. But I don’t think they mean the same thing…

Hard: Raising teens (I’m sure.) Watching your child hurt. Watching your child fail. All the excruciating times you have to step back and let go. Loving unconditionally. Yes, fully and unconditionally. Hearts full of that much love leave room for lots of heartache. It just does. Hard.

Then there are the times that aren’t necessarily hard, but they require you to step-up. To buck-up. To actually parent when you feel like not. It’s not for sissies… Right, Mom?

There are the obvious times… Most of which stem from the selfishness of kids that are 2 (and 5/6) and 5 (and 1/3). There’s the fighting over toys, who gets to do what first, not wanting to obey because they’d rather be doing anything else. These daily trials can be challenging, but mainly because it requires tons of patience to deal with the same issue 17 million times a day while still remaining calm. It’s seriously exhausting. If I have to referee another battle over which toothbrush someone may or may not have just touched, or if I have to hear one. more. argument. over who gets to pray first, I might just lose it. 

Do you have these same parenting frustrations? Do you also feel like not parenting, but instead snapping, “Seriously? SERIOUSLY?? You’re going to fight over praying??? Do you not see the irony, children???” I’m making myself buck-up here. I’m doing my best to not lose it. But I’m feeling a bit sissy-ish. You, too? How ’bout let’s all pray about it? K? Just ME FIRST.

Parenting is also hard because of the tricky life-balances we parents try to manage. Independence vs. protection. Doing things that have to get done (or we want to get done) vs. doing things with them that help them grow/learn. Teaching/helping vs. letting them figure it out on their own. Finding the right balance is hard. Making the choices you feel are best and not carrying guilt is hard. And definitely not for sissies.

Then there are the once-in-a-while situations that come up that I’d never thought of before. The things that suddenly smack you in the face and make you think, “Oh, crap. How am I supposed to handle this? WHERE IS MY PARENTING HANDBOOK???” These are the things that may or may not be hard, but they are the reasons “sissies” can’t exist in parenting.

I don’t know about your kids, but my kids are good at coming up with these situations. It’s like they enjoy testing my parenting creativity. I wonder if mom can keep her cool when we do this. She’ll never expect it! Or, I can’t wait to see mom’s face when she hears what we’re saying! I bet she’ll have no clue what to do! They’re testing my level of sissy-ness…

I’m certain that last one is what my two cherubs were saying just the other morning. It started when they asked permission to get out the watercolor paint brushes to play with, without the paint. There were 14 brushes, so they divided them up evenly. Each of their 7 brushes then received a made-up name so they could play as though the brushes were people. I heard the naming begin, “This one’s Bumble. This is Mxtrah. That one will be Peetose…” and headed out of the room to blow-dry my hair.

Several minutes went by, the sounds of their playing with the paintbrush people drowned out by the hum of the hairdryer.

And then I turned the dryer off.

What I heard next was bad. I can’t even write it, it’s that bad. But in order to tell the story, I have to sorta-kinda write it. What I heard next was my darling female child say something I’ve never said, Matt’s never said, and I’m absolutely certain her babysitters and Bible class teachers have never said. She said the inappropriate phrase – appropriately – with a tone of anger and frustration. Directed to whom, I was not sure. When I turned the dryer off, what I heard my darling say was, “Come HERE, Witch!” Only not witch. Only she said that same word but with a different beginning letter.

That’s right. My sweet girl just called someone – and I was not sure who – the “B word.” And she had said it with attitude.

Yeah. I was shocked, too. So much so that I was certain she couldn’t have actually said it. I didn’t move. But then I heard it again.“I said, COME HERE, WITCH!” Oh no. she. didn’t.

I headed to where they were playing. Wanting to run, but actually going much slower because I wasn’t sure what I was going to say once I got there. It was one of those tricky parenting moments not made for sissies. There is not handbook for these. My goal was to 1) Stop the use of the word. Immediately. 2) Figure out where she learned it. 3) Not draw too much attention to it so as to increase curiosity of said bad word, causing it to be used when mom is not around. You know, to inform other kids that “Witch” is a never-to-be-said-bad-word .

My brain snapped to attention when I heard it again. “Witch! You’re not listening to me! Go to time out, Witch!”

“Annalise! What are you saying???” I gasped. Probably not the right approach, because it brought out the word again.

“I was telling Witch to come here. She didn’t listen, so I sent her to time out.”

“Stop saying that word!”

“What word? Witch?”

“Yes! That word! That is very bad word! Where did you hear it?”

“Witch is not a bad word! I didn’t hear it anywhere. I just made it up! (Pointing to the brushes.) This is Bumble. This is Peetose. This is WITCH!”

“Annalise, PLEASE stop saying that word! It is very naughty!”

“Why? What does Witch mean? And how can it be naughty when I just made it up?”

Cringing every time it slips off her tongue. “Oh dear. STOP saying it. It doesn’t matter what it means. It’s naughty. And you maybe just made it up, but it’s a real word. A very naughty word.” Not doing so good at goal #3. Lots of attention to the word here. LOTS.

“Mommy, I didn’t know Witch was naughty. I just made it up. I didn’t know I was making up a naughty word.  So I can’t say Witch even though I just made it up?”

Goal #1 FAIL. It’s now been said WAY too many times. “NO. I already said not to. STOP. NOW. Don’t say it again. Ever.”

“Ok. I won’t. I just didn’t know it was bad. I just made it up. I promise.”

“I know. You didn’t know. Just stop.”

“Ok, Mom. What can I name it then. Is Pitch a bad word? Can I call it Pitch?”

“No. Pitch isn’t bad. Call it that. It’s a real word, but it’s not bad.”

I headed back to the bathroom, thinking about the odd chances here. 14 paint brushes named random made-up names. And the one that is being naughty and getting talked to sternly just happened to be named “Witch.” Nope, they don’t make a handbook for moments like these.

And then… yes the story doesn’t end there… I was snapped to attention once again as I heard my two littles singing a song to one of the paint brushes I hadn’t yet met. This one named “Axs.” (When spoken by Jacob, this word is remarkably similar to a word that means “butt.”) And no, I’m not even joking. You just can’t make this stuff up. The song they were singing, sung to the tune of Jingle Bells, caused the paintbrush’s name to slur together, sounding like a string of swear words. “Axs-axs-axs. Axs-axs-axs. Axs-axs-axs-axs-aaaxss….” And so I headed back in to tell them again. Axs’ name must change. It doesn’t matter what it means. Yes, I know you just made it up. Yes, Max is more appropriate. Thank you.

14 made-up names. 2 swear words. 58 times I cringed hearing my angels swear. What are the chances?

Yes. Parenting ain’t for sissies. Because there is just no way you can plan for moments like this. Moments where you’re caught completely off guard, trying to figure out how to handle any given situation the best way. And most of the time, the best way doesn’t even seem to exist.

Another tricky parenting moment: Jacob sat on the toilet for five minutes the other day. Refusing to let me wipe his bum because… he didn’t like the softness of the toilet paper. Um, yeah. 2 years old. Only been using a toilet for about two months. And he has opinions about the toilet paper.

“Not for sissies” parenting moment because: 1) You are TWO and don’t get that much control. 2) The fact that you have such strong opinions about your toilet paper’s softness – after just two months of using it – is highly concerning to me and our future. So what happens next in this conversation needs to be thought-through and planned out carefully. 3) And this is the biggest reason this was a tricky moment… This is just. plain. sad. You have no idea how easy you have it. Some kids don’t get choices of toilet paper. Or have toilet paper at all. Or toilets. Or baths. Or food. Or love. And how do you teach a 2 year old to appreciate how blessed we are without making their little innocent minds aware of the injustices and cruelty of this world?

You don’t. You can’t. He is innocent. Innocent with a spoiled little American “axs.” But he is too young to know the pain of this world.

And so he sat. For five minutes. After I calmly told him that in this house, we are thankful for what we have. Even if we don’t like the too-soft-TP, we are thankful. And when he was ready to be thankful and have a happy heart, I would wipe his dirty little bum with the t00-soft-TP. His stubborn heart held out for 5 minutes before he was willing to give in to the fluffy softness.

Those innocent little hearts. But they so make mine melt.

Mom is right. It ain’t for sissies. Heart-pounding. Heart-racing. Heart-breaking. Heart-wrenching.

And heart-meltingly-wonderful.