Change

We recently decided we needed a change in our bedroom situation.  Jesse (17) and Jeremiah (9) shared a room.  Jonah (16) and Jake (15)  shared the other bedroom. When we moved into our house over 6 years ago, we let the kids pick out what color they wanted their rooms to be.  Jonah and Jake, who are both artistic, were in the 3rd and 4th grades and wanted a rain forest themed room and wanted to draw animals on their walls. I was cool with them drawing on their walls until I fell in love with the blue paint and the green paint (white chair rail in the middle) that I helped them choose, and then I didn’t want them to “mess” up their walls. Jonah wanted to draw vines all over the place, and Jake would have drawn amazing animals.

I prayed last night about the switch in rooms. One of my sons was having a hard time adjusting to the change, and I prayed that it would bring unity and harmony to my teenage sons, and that they would accept each other into the boys’ club with no one left out. (Jesse told me not to call it the boys’ club because that sounded weird.)

Jonah and Jeremiah are now sharing a room. We’re in the middle of painting and moving things around…most of their things are sitting in the hall right now. Jonah likes cool; he likes trendy, and he wanted a rust orange color for his room. I found a burnt orange/brown color on the mistint table at Lowe’s, and he said that would be fine. As he, Julia and I were painting his room, I don’t know if the color that somebody didn’t want was exactly what Jonah really had in mind, but as I finished up tonight, he walked in and called it “pumpkin mocha.” Which means cool. And I’m beyond excited that he likes it so much. He said it looked like a coffee shop. And Jeremiah, of course, he’s 9 and doesn’t really care what color the room is (unless it’s blue…my kids have gotten it into their minds that blue rooms look like nurseries).

Monday after we finish school, we will paint Jesse and Jake’s room gray. Jesse originally wanted “bamboo” like our rec room; Jake wanted “black.” We all compromised and went with “sable grey.” I think it will be nice. Man-cavish. No white chair rail.

I know there will be adjustments. Jesse likes to tease and throw playing cards at people (we watched some movie where the guy threw cards; Jesse thought it was cool and figured out how to do it; Julia and Jeremiah have taken it up as well); Jake likes to be left alone most of the time (I guess he figured Jesse’s throwing cards beat Jonah’s non-stop singing).  Jeremiah doesn’t know what to think because Jesse’s very gentle with him and treats him like a kid brother. But Jeremiah really looks up to Jonah and thinks Jonah is an amazing singer and actor; Jonah has an incredible opportunity to love.

We’re very much in transition. The rooms are a wreck, but my teenage boys are upstairs lying on their beds all watching a movie together, and my heart feels like it could burst.

They’re together. I’m kind of jealous of all that time they’ll spend just hanging out and all the amazing conversations they will have, Jesse getting to bond with Jake kind of for the first time, and Jonah hanging out in their room with them because he’s an extrovert and won’t mind barging in. I’m trying to figure out a way to get the love seat in there because I want to hang out in there too. Teenage boys are really funny.

I’m praying that the change will be good for everyone. I’m praying that kindness will abound, and that they would enjoy the time; it goes by so fast. Change happens. And I don’t want them to miss opportunities to know each other, to love each other, to embrace their differences.

And another thing, I would let my kids draw on their walls now…no matter how cool the paint color. 🙂

taking it all in

We recently went to the church that is in our neighborhood for Sunday morning. As I was preparing everything the night before and making sure my younger children took baths, I began noticing the sacredness of it all, even down to ironing clothes. And in my preparation, I felt like I was standing on holy ground. I had this lightness in my soul, my spirit. I felt open to receiving whatever God has for me and for my family.

And the next morning, everyone got up early, which is unusual in our house. We all hung out for a while around our dining room table with the gas logs flaming in the background.  I noticed it all: my laughing, talking teenage boys dressed in their clean jeans and polo shirts; my youngest Jeremiah just enjoying being part of it all,  and cool Julia dressed in her khaki cargo pants and white shirt with the pink lace around the bottom and her older brother’s shoes that we had found in the attic for her to wear for Halloween (she dressed as a gangster) that she has now adopted as her own. It was all good.

I took in all the joking and the excited talking and light-heartedness and breathed in deeply, holding it within my heart. It was a sacred, holy moment for me in the midst of our family.  It felt like my insides were smiling, and contentment just passed over me in waves.  We all wanted to be together in that moment.

After a while, I realized we needed to eat, so I began making biscuits and eggs, and as I rolled out dough, my fingers and hands sticky with it; that, too, felt lovely and divine. Loving my family by fixing food with my hands felt like standing in God’s presence. It was beautiful. I could taste the excitement for what is and what will be. And even as the morning rolled on, it had a sweetness to it. It wasn’t the craziness that usually goes along with Sunday mornings trying to get everyone out the door (you know what I’m talking about).

For me, noticing the sacred means slowing down and paying attention. It means being fully present, even in all the tiny moments in between the big change of life ones. It’s being fully alive and fully engaged in the life that I’ve been given. And being grateful for every part of it. Eugene Peterson says that “to eyes that see, every bush is a burning bush.”

Right now, as I stand in the present, I’m not worrying about the next hour, the next day, the next month, the next year. I’m enjoying the now and seeing the sacred in it all.

You Cannot Lose My Love

Recently, I had a couple of episodes with my second son, my 15-year-old. This son is amazing in so many ways. He has high relational intelligence, and he is very persistent, two great qualities if used for good. If used against others, he can bug the snot out of a person with just his facial expressions or his constant noises. His ten-year old sister is a very easy target, and he knows that.

Second son said something to his sister; she went nuts; I stepped in, and he mouthed off at me. But I know his heart toward me, and even though he tried to push my buttons, God gave me the wisdom to answer in gentleness and love after I first apologized to him for calling him a smart ass. (And, yes, I called him that.) But God, in His goodness, quickly convicted me and brought me humbly around before it escalated and became too big, too huge, too stupid. God brought me back to what He’s been teaching me for months now…gentleness.

After my apology, I spoke truth to second son about who he is and told him that my all-time favorite moment for the day had been when I saw him walk toward the house with his sister, his arm slung over her shoulder. Because that’s who this kid is.  He wants to be loved, and he wants to love.

A few days later, this same kid just out-and-out defied me. Something happened with his brother that he didn’t like; I stepped in, and second son made some snotty remark toward me. As I tried to talk to him, he continued walking away from me as I told him to stop. I felt God’s presence and love for that teenage boy even in that moment. I sent second son to his room and said he could come down when he apologized to me.

Four hours later, second son came down and gave me a very insincere apology. I hugged him anyway. I acted as if his apology meant something because I know his heart, and he wants to be loved; they all do, even when it might not look like it.

I’m pretty sure the thing that brought second son downstairs was that I had made one of his favorite foods the night before, and he had gotten hungry. But sadly, the food he came looking for had just been finished off.  Even though it was after 9 o’clock at night and I was tired and was not interested in being in the kitchen for one more second, I offered to re-make this same favorite food for him, and he admitted that he wanted it. As we made it together, we talked. And as we waited for the food to bake, I rubbed his back and gently spoke truth to him. It’s amazing where favorite foods and back rubs and gentleness can take a mom.

The truth that God gave me that night and that I was able to share with second son is that I am for him, not against him. Teenage world is hard enough, but he doesn’t have to do it alone.  And, even when he’s dead wrong and angry and frustrated and even defiant, I am still for him.

I now have three teenage boys, and this is my favorite age so far. God is for them, not against them. And, above all else, I want to reflect God’s love and gentleness to each one of my five children. Because no matter how old they get or where they end up or even what they do…they cannot lose His love…

He gathers the lambs in His arms…
He gently leads those that are nursing. (the immature, the inexperienced) Isaiah 40

Not the Path I Would Have Chosen

When Jeff and I moved to Nashville almost six years ago, we came here to help a struggling school. When that school closed down four years ago, we had no idea what to do with our five children (ages 4-12 at the time) who attended that school. It was sad to see so many families struggle with where they would send their kids to school, as well.

Feeling like we had no other options, we went ahead and homeschooled. We had homeschooled several years earlier when our older boys were younger, so I knew we could do it, but I didn’t really want to, to be perfectly honest.

After the school closed down, my plan was to home school our kids for a couple of years and then find a  private school our kids could attend. So, for me, homeschooling was a very temporary thing, to say the least. I love my kids, but I didn’t want to hang with them every day, all day long.

We survived homeschooling for two years, and then that next summer I begged God to release me from homeschooling my kids. I was done. When I realized He was not answering my prayers for release, I realized I might be in this for the long haul, and instead of fighting it, I chose to embrace it.

I had a decent relationship with my kids. I was physically present and took care of them, but I struggled with being emotionally present a good deal of the time. For years, I struggled with emotional affairs, always looking for greener grass elsewhere and not satisfied with God or what He had given me.

But a few years ago, God really began doing His healing work in me, and I began to have victory in an area that I thought I would struggle with for the rest of my life. As a result of His healing, I now had the time and the emotional energy to invest in my kids and began being in real relationship with them, not just passing them in the hall or cleaning up after them or even teaching them school.

We began talking and haven’t stopped yet…real conversations about God, about the stuff that they feel and what they’re going through on a daily basis. We laugh; we joke; we play games; we talk. Jeff and I love sitting in our dining room in front of the fire talking and hanging out with our kids. It is truly one of the best parts of my life.

I’m not a creative home school mom who comes up with fun activities for my kids to do, and my kids would probably say homeschooling is pretty boring for the most part. But what I’ve found in being around my kids all day long and them being around each other is that I would not exchange the relationships I now have with them and the ones they have with each other for anything in the world. It’s a gift from God. And I am just so incredibly grateful.

I would not have chosen this path for myself, but I’m thankful for my loving Abba who chose it for me and gently pushed me down it. He really does know what best for me, for all of us.

And those years the locusts ate…they’ve been reclaimed and restored many times more than I could possibly have imagined.

I will lead the blind by a way they did not know;
I will guide them on paths they have not known.
I will turn darkness to light in front of them
and rough places into level ground. (Isaiah 42)

the heart of the matter

My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord…For the Lord disciplines the one he loves…

Hebrews 12 goes on to say that a parent who loves his child disciplines them, just like God disciplines us. It’s a painful process, but it is designed to teach us submission to Him in all things. When we let go of the control that we think we have and submit to the things He’s called us to then that’s when we find life, real life. He disciplines us for our good, so that we may share his holiness.

Shall we not much more be subject to the Father of spirits and live?

I’ve noticed something in myself recently. When I’m willing to submit to God in humility, then I’m much more willing to submit to those around me in service and love and learn the things God’s trying to teach me. There’s something in us that wants to be in control of our lives, to not be told what to do, to not submit to anyone, even God.

When it comes to parenting my children, I want everyone to be in harmony and get along and just do what they’re supposed to do. I love my kids; they know that, and I want them to do what I’ve asked them to do out of love and respect, and not out of fear. I think God wants us to obey Him because we love Him and not because we’re fearful that there might be consequences when we don’t obey.

But I’m not God, and in being pretty laid back in this area and just wanting everyone to get along, I have failed to discipline as I should have at times. And as a result, one of my kids gets really angry when told to do stuff she doesn’t like or doesn’t want to do, especially her school work. And to maintain peace, I have let things slide. I haven’t dealt with her lack of obedience as I should have. And of course, her anger usually takes over because clear boundaries have not been set, and because I’ve sometimes responded to her anger and lack of obedience with anger myself.

But the biggest wake-up call for me the other day was when it occurred to me that if this child is not willing to submit to my authority, then she won’t submit to God’s authority later. She won’t one day magically wake up and submit to Him. It starts now. I had to repent and apologize to her for my lack of obedience to God in this. Because the biggest mission of my life and my greatest calling is that my children walk in truth and for them to do what God calls them to do in submitting their lives to Him.

There’s a documentary/movie called Buck. Buck is the ultimate horse whisperer, and he has an incredible story. That man can do amazing things with horses.  He says he doesn’t help people with horse problems. He helps horses with people problems. Horses are a reflection of their masters. They just do what they’ve seen done. Same as kids. My kids aren’t me, but they are definitely a reflection. If I’m an angry and unforgiving or manipulative person, my kids will more than likely reflect my behavior as well.

In the movie, Buck shows that if you jerk the reins of a horse, the horse will automatically jerk its head back in response. If we lash out in anger toward those around us trying to get them to do what we want them to do, chances are the anger will be reciprocated, and fear not love will be the result. But if you hold the reins firmly, the horse will come around and eventually do what you want it to do in submission. I’m in the process of learning to hold the reins firmly but also gently.

Because, really,  the point is not behavior modification. The point is my children’s hearts. Who cares if I can make my children do what I want them to do by behaving perfectly in front of the world or even in my home, but yet have failed to address their heart issues of sin and lack of repentance? Unless there is brokenness in my life, brokenness in their lives, we will never yield to God’s authority and discipline. Discipline is a good thing. It doesn’t really seem like it at the time, but God claims us as sons and daughters if we’re willing to submit to it. He actually loves those He disciplines, and the fruit of it becomes rather obvious, especially in teenagers and children.

Discipline from God produces the fruit of peace and righteousness to those who are willing to be trained by it. (Hebrews 12)

Lent In My Belly Button

Recently, Jeff and I decided that our kids would give up all games, computer and video for Lent. We decided this for our kids, spouting the usual spiritual application that giving up stuff for Lent is good because we’re looking forward to Easter with Christ’s death and resurrection, and it helps us remember to anticipate this when we give up something really hard.

But, really, I think we were trying to stop the craziness of gaming that had kind of taken over, and this was just a good excuse to do it without having to pull the “I’m the parent, get off the computer” card. Plus, it also made it “spiritual.”

Since Jeff and I don’t have a problem with computer games, we had to come up with stuff to deny ourselves as well. Jeff gave up looking at trivia on his phone and the computer.  He is a trivia fanatic, constantly in search of information and news flashes. He loves the Drudge Report and knows crazy minutia. So this was hard for him.

Personally, I would rather bury my head in the sand than put anything else in my brain. It rattles around enough without throwing completely worthless stuff in there, to boot. So, my Lent give-up was the weather channel. And I’m not talking about the cool weather channel on cable. I’m talking about the ghetto weather channel that you get when you don’t have cable. Regardless, I turn it on all the time to check to see what I should wear and when I can hang laundry outside and just out of curiosity because I have to know, and I can’t just stick my head out the door.

The Lent “rules” say that you can take Sundays off (or so I’m told; I’m sure this was some bit of information that Jeff told me).  So my kids, well, they go a little nuts with the games that day. And Jeff, I’m sure he’s cramming all the information in that he missed over the past week. I, too, take full advantage and try to memorize the temperatures for the upcoming week. But it doesn’t seem to stick, so Julia wrote down the weather for me for last week, including the temperature for each day, complete with drawings of rain clouds and suns. Somehow, I think we’ve all missed the point.

A couple weeks ago, Julia and I went on a girls’ trip, just her and me, for one night at a state park complete with chilly indoor pool. We had so much fun. But I needed to know if I was going to have to drive home in the rain, so I wanted to check the weather. But, it wasn’t Sunday. I told her I was just going to check the weather real quick when Julia said, “I won’t tell anyone.” But then added, “But God will know.”

Geez. I don’t think it was supposed to be like that. Some where along the way, it took on a pharasaical bent. If keeping Lent just means not breaking another rule, then really what’s the point?

So, we’ve kind of let it go. It seemed to have taken on a life of its own and in the process lost its real significance.

Yep, next year they can choose to do their own Lent or not do it. Lesson learned.

The Best Worst Birthday Ever

Recently my third son (which shall remain nameless) turned 13, which to me is such a big deal age. Entering teenage-hood. Big stuff. But this kid doesn’t like any attention drawn to him ever. He’d just rather blend in with his environment. He doesn’t really like to be hugged or touched and acts like he’s being electrically shocked when he is touched. I hug him anyway and sometimes make him hug me back just because I believe everyone needs physical touch. And we play the game of him being electrocuted by my touch. I’m cool with that.

But, a week before said son’s birthday, he started saying that he didn’t want to have a birthday. Once again, I’m sorry, he’s going to have a birthday. This is just how it is. We celebrate birthdays. They’re important, no matter what age. And it wasn’t like I invited 50 people to come celebrate. We have a very simple birthday with our immediate family only. We have cake and ice cream, sing happy birthday, and open presents. That’s it. No big deal. Really.

So I backed off a little in talking about his birthday and bought a few presents anyway, even though he said he didn’t want presents or cake or ice cream. What kid doesn’t want presents or cake or ice cream? I understand not wanting to have people watch you open your presents or having a short song dedicated to your day, but it only happens once a year, so really, just suck it up.

So “the day” arrives. And it slowly unraveled. Cake and ice cream and singing did not go well. I thought I remained calm and didn’t push, not all that hard anyway. It was kind of like a big joke to me, for a while, thinking that he would eventually give in, act like he was being electrocuted and then open his presents.

His presents sat on the piano bench all day long. Second son could hardly stand it because he is such a party person. He lives to plan parties and can’t understand why someone would choose to not open their presents. So second son tried to entice third son by carrying presents around and putting them in close proximity to him.

It didn’t work. He still didn’t want to open his presents or eat his cake and ice cream that we had all gotten into several hours earlier. I had no idea this child was this stubborn. Or really, that I cared that much.

I finally lost it. Badly. Very, very badly. He had finally gotten to me, and I exploded in anger and unwrapped his presents and showered the wrapping paper all over the floor and put his now-opened presents back on the piano bench. And then, I proceeded to cry my eyes out, because I don’t know how in the world to love this kid, to really, really love him. He had just broken my heart, and I realized how rash and angry and how wrong I had been and how I had made his birthday about me.

He came downstairs and saw his opened presents sitting on the bench. And ran back up the stairs, crying like a wounded animal.

At this point, all I wanted to do was crawl in my bed and go to sleep and forget this day forever.

But somehow, I gathered the courage to go talk to third son. He was crying on his bed with his blanket covering his head, and I managed to blubber out how sorry I was that I opened his presents and how much I really do love him. I felt like he had rejected our attempts to love him, as poor as they were. And both of us just kept crying. And I’m not really sure what happened at that moment. But something broke in me. And whatever it was, that same thing also seemed to break in him.

I hauled his opened presents up to his room, and he pulled them out of the bag that I had stuffed them in and looked at each one of them and said, “Thanks, Mom.” They were all the kinds of things my third son loves.

I just stood there with my heart so gushy with all the sadness and the happiness and the love I didn’t think it was capable of after such a day. I had made such a mess of his 13th birthday, but we’d seemed to have made a break through in our moment of brokenness, making each of us perhaps realize that it wasn’t all about him or all about me. I’m afraid, it may be his most memorable birthday. It will definitely be mine.

A few days later, his grandparents brought over a cake and wanted to take us all out for pizza. And they made such a big deal over third son, I thought that he might crack under all the pressure, but he actually smiled shyly and took it. I wouldn’t say that he enjoyed being the center of attention, but he endured it in a very brave kind of way that if we hadn’t had his hell-ish birthday of confusion and clarity, he might never have withstood it. But he did great, even down to the singing of “Happy Birthday” in the middle of Pizza Hut. Wow.

Driving Miss Crazy

Jesse, my 15 year old, is now driving. He’s pretty good. He knows he’s not when I grab the van door and the armrest at the same time and hold tightly until my knuckles turn white.

This letting go stuff is hard. Really hard.

With Jesse learning how to drive and living in Nashville, where roads are busy most of the time, it feels a little out of control, and it makes me want to hold my breath a little. You either drive on interstates or back roads, and I think some of the back roads are scarier than any highway, especially with someone just learning to drive. It makes me think about all these student drivers on the roads and freak out just a little. And knowing that I have four more kids to go through this driving thing with.

When I was learning to drive, I drove around our little city of Anderson, no big deal (okay, for me looking back it was no big deal, but I’m sure there were times when my dad wanted to hyperventilate, and my mom was never involved in that process, lucky her). Ten minutes pretty much covered where you wanted to go. My dad, in teaching me how to drive, had me drive routinely to the DMV so that I could practice my parallel parking, which, to this day, I never would have passed if he hadn’t figured out that I could line up the middle of our car with a telephone pole across the street. I still don’t parallel park. Mainly because there’s no telephone pole. And for me, parking in general can be a problem. Good thing I like to walk.

My dad never let me drive on the interstate, which was safest for everyone involved. He did, however, let me drive in the Everglades in Florida when we went on vacation down there one summer. I guess he figured the worst that could happen would be for me to hit some kind of wildlife. I didn’t cause any injuries or fatalities, but, I did manage to go the wrong way, which sent us an hour in the wrong direction. Things have not changed much with me. I now have my beloved GPS, so direction doesn’t matter so much.

Jeff and I approach the driving thing a little differently. He doesn’t talk to Jesse at all unless to give some kind of warning, like “brake, brake, Brake, BRAKE.”  And I’m the running commentary, all the while pointing out the mailboxes that he’s getting way too close to as well as the oncoming traffic and telling him not to roll his stop signs (which I consequently did and failed my first driver’s test at the very first stop sign coming out of the DMV) but also telling him to “gun it” because it’s hard to see around some corners (crazy Tennessee back roads), only to tell him to slow down again because I don’t particularly like the combination of steep hills and old vans and speed so much. But I’m also throwing those “When I was learning to drive” stories in there too for comic relief. Jesse tries to listen to the radio while driving with me, which he doesn’t try with Jeff. Jeff says he doesn’t need to be distracted. Which makes me the fun parent.

I kind of like to drive, and it’s been hard for me to give up my driving time for this kid of mine, only to be scared half to death a few times.This doesn’t sound like a good exchange. But this parenting thing, it’s very rarely an equal exchange. I’m going to have another student driver next year and then again the next year after that. I may not ever get to drive or breathe again.

I’m enjoying my family more than ever these days. Some days I really wish I could freeze time, just for the moment. But probably not when Jesse’s behind the wheel. Not yet anyway. Right now, I just have to remember to exhale and not hold onto the door quite so tightly.

Living With Teenagers

My oldest boys take turns unloading the dishwasher. It was Jesse’s turn the other day, but he wasn’t here to do it. So I asked Jonah to do it. And then, Jake took his turn, so we were back to Jesse again.  He took his turn unloading, but he still owed me one more time unloading, since we had gotten out of our normal rotation.

After Jesse unloaded, I said, “Thank you for unloading the dishwasher.”

He said, “You’re welcome.”

I said, “But I need you to do it again.”

To which he replied, while shoveling food into his mouth, “You’re welcome. You’re welcome?”

Life’s funny living with teenagers.