When, if you have to turn on a light to keep working, you know you’ve been up too late!
Oh, and sunscreen season has officially started. I’m a little behind.
Aren’t they a good-looking bunch!
Category Archives: Observations
Yuck!
I spilled some 409 refilling a bottle and mopped the spill with a towel under my stocking foot.
Five minutes later I could swear I had the taste in my mouth.
I get the how and all, but it’s still kinda creepy.
Do You Gross-Out Easily?
Today in Sunday school the teacher was emphasizing that we can’t change ourselves. Only God can change us.
And of course (hey it’s my season) I immediately thought of diaper changes.
And it’s a pretty good comparison. Every analogy falls apart somewhere, but this one made me think a while.
Little babies can’t change their own diapers (I don’t care how brilliant they are. It ain’t happenin’). And require this outside “interference” in their day to keep them sanitary.
And for those of you get squeamish when you start thinking about that *really* GROSS stuff you can find in a baby diaper: black, tar-like meconium, mustard-yellow runny stuff (that can make for a great/bad joke with a deli sandwich) diarrhea that escapes the diaper and sticks to everything else and— Amy Jane are you trying to gross-out everyone who actually reads these words?
Actually, yeah. Only I didn’t expect it to be that effective with my readers.
The point is that I hope to suggest the response God has to our sin.
Our disgust at the grossest (I’ll quit trying to describe it) diaper blow-out you can imagine is nothing compared to the response of our Holy God to the filth of our sin.
We wrinkle our noses, touch as little as possible, generate extra trash, and discuss with anybody (or nobody) present about what we’ll have to do to get that clean.
And Sin isn’t something we can get clean.
Is there pure lying? Is there cleaned-up covetousness? Is there acceptable adultery?
That all these have been excused by somebody doesn’t mean God cleared them.
He can’t stand these things.
~ ~ ~
So, for those of you at the diaper-changing stage of life, the next time you get a “package” that curls your toes, I hope you thank God for His perfect sacrifice, that made it possible for him to look on us, and change us, to be more like him.
And if we’re not there, maybe we should ask to be “potty-trained,” if you will, to treat sin with the disgust it deserves. (Hey, I already said the analogy has to break-down somewhere.)
Holding it Together
At the church I was visiting this morning a fellow was talking about a conversation he’d had with his brother who’s not a believer.
They were sharing the regular stuff about car trouble and sickness going through the family, until the one brother said to the other:
“It really doesn’t make any difference, does it?”
“What”
“Your being a Christian. You’re going through all the same junk that I am. What good is Christianity?”
And I loved the Christian brother’s response. He told his brother there is this verse in scripture (Corinthians 1:17) that points out:
In Him (Christ) all things hold together.
And there it is right there.
We Christians don’t claim to be better people, and we’re not saying going to church instantly fixes everything.
We’ve just found the One that can hold it together, and are learning to live on the strength He provides.
~ ~ ~
I get so disappointed sometimes when I hear people talking negatively about “the church.”
Part of that is because it is my culture (know any other peoples with a strong sense of culture that enjoy it being minimized or maligned?).
Part of that is because I know the complainers frequently are griping based on a stereotype.
And part of my let-down is that the “culture at large” seems to expect us to be better than them, somehow. Really.
I wonder what people expect the church to do. On the one hand they say, “Don’t judge me.”
Which is fine: Paul, one of the major (human) writers of the New Testament, basically said the behavior of those outside the church wasn’t his concern as a spiritual leader, it was those inside.
Then, with the next breath, these people who want to be let alone judge those they see, saying (it seems) “How dare you be imperfect?” (I think we all know Christians don’t have the corner on hypocrisy. Just the spotlight.)
It was Jesus himself who said,
“It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”
This is what the pastor talked about this morning: the church being imperfect.
He quoted Philip Yancy (I should have asked which book, because I didn’t recognize this) when he pointed out three humiliations Jesus had to endure:
- Becoming a human baby (and all the helpless ignominy that includes).
- To die on a cross like a common criminal; a sinless man with all the wrath of God heaped upon him for the sin of the world.
- To leave his representation and reputation in the hands of fallible, sinful people.
~ ~ ~
People sin. People do stupid things. People do things that wreck their own lives and wound those around them.
And Christians are people.
The whole reason true Christians are in church, the reason we’ve submitted ourselves to the Lordship of Christ, is because we know we don’t have it all together.
We’ve usually proven to ourselves and to others that we’re not capable of getting it together.
And that is why we look outside of ourselves.
He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.
He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.
For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him.
And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.
To See the Resurection
I picked up a Shakespeare’s Sonnets last week, and began trying to read them from the beginning. (I’ve never read them before.)
As I waded through the first dozen, I was struck by the recurring plea to the listener to beget. To parent children so that in their image the memory and beauty of the original might be preserved.
One of the maybe five Shakespeare plays I am familiar with (12th Night) has a whole scene built around this theme— Cesario trying to talk the beautiful Lady Olivia into marrying the Duke.
After a while the repetition got old and I gave up, but not before I was struck by this image:
When every private widow well may keep
By children’s eyes her husband’s shape in mind.
And I thought, maybe for the first time, how children were, for many eras and cultures, the only way to honor or remember anyone who had been loved and valued by you.
~ ~ ~
Last night I took my oldest daughter with me to a meeting, and while there I introduced myself to someone as my grandmother’s granddaughter, because she looked as though she vaguely remembered me, and I knew the woman had admired her.
She held the hand I offered as she studied my face, then turned to my daughter.
“And who does she look like?” the woman asked, smiling warmly but staring enough to make my 5-year old uncomfortable (which, admittedly, isn’t much). “Who’s eyes does she have? Are they yours?”
Not really sure how to answer, I said some familiar line about her being a remarkably even mix, not favoring anyone, and we went together into the meeting.
There were other women there who knew my parents or grandparents before me, and a round of recognition of my mannerisms were attributed while I smiled and nodded. This hasn’t happened in a long time, but I don’t mind it.
There was an absolute eruption when *just* after this exchange an new woman walked in and said, “You’re Rev. Dave and Sister Florie’s daughter, aren’t you?”
~
After the meeting I talked with another woman about my Grandmother’s last morning with me, and the first woman, the one I’d introduced myself to, watched us and finally spoke.
“It’s just amazing to watch the children and grandchildren of those you’ve known for years. It’s like your friend is resurrected. Brought back from the dead to stand in front of you.”
And I finally understood the look on her face and felt a tightness in my heart as I wondered if I would wear it one day, too.
Um, about that early-rising thing…
I just noticed that How I Started Rising Early is now one of my most-visited posts, and I felt, in the interests of “full disclosure” (or, at least, not desiring to mislead anyone), I wanted to add that I haven’t been consistently “rising early” all the months since I wrote that.
Not even most of them.
When I quit going to bed as I needed to (Important Item #3 on the how-to), I grew too tired to continue rising early, and I went back to my old habits.
I also realize, looking back now, that I went through a mild depression when my youngest weaned.
I don’t think I’ll ever know if it was because I got “off hormones” for the first time in over five years (I’ve been either pregnant or nursing a baby since April of ’02) or if it was my version of SAD with the diminishing light complicating things, but basic-level functioning was a challenge, and even thinking of early rising was merely masochistic; not at all helpful.
I definitely believe there are some seasons better than others for starting this if you’re not naturally inclined this way.
It’s only been in my latest re-ordering of activities and (I suppose) priorities that I’ve begun rising early again.
Again, I have to wonder how much this is related to the light returning after a dark-winter season– but I don’t know how much it can affect things when I’m still not getting much daylight till almost 9 a.m.
In 23 years I can’t remember light leaving being detrimental, but I celebrate its return with great notice. I love how it seems to grow faster than it left– like the sun is just as glad to be back as we are to have it.
But, again, the early rising “thing” being successful is through the provision of our good God.
I woke coherent (despite bedtime) at 5 a.m. for almost a week before I figured it out. I think God was suggesting I start my early mornings again.
So for several days now I’ve considered my early mornings a gift. Sometimes I lie awake enjoying the quiet, but usually I get up and spend an hour or more to myself.
My only must-do is three chapters from the bible, then I can just glaze- over or do whatever. I love the freedom of knowing I’m not “robbing” anyone (including myself) to do “nothing” during these hours.
Why is “Sheltering” a Bad Word?
“Clearly there is an appropriate kind of sheltering. When those who are opposed to homeschooling accuse me of sheltering my children, my reply is always, ‘What are you going to accuse me of next, feeding and clothing them?”— R.C. Sproul Jr.
I was at my moms’-group yesterday, and heard a pair of women exclaiming incredulously over a young lady who realized much later than most that sex happens outside of marriage.
“I don’t know how in the world she missed it that long,” said one. “I mean, it’s even in the Bible.” The tone hovered somewhere between scorn and pity for this poor girl, and I (with my latest thoughts and feelings) couldn’t help saying, “Maybe it was a mercy.”
I had no opportunity to expand on this, because at that point I accidentally knocked over a cup of juice and spent the next five minutes dealing with that.
But I have been frustrated hearing this sort of talk before.
Talking with my uncle late last year, I endured his monologue about how worried he’d been for us kids because we were homeschooled and sheltered from the real world. I didn’t think at the time to say I was grateful for my ignorance.
~
Via e-mail this week I got a little article by By Gena Suarez, one of the owner/publishers of The Old Schoolhouse Magazine, that articulated perfectly the way I feel about this.
Do you “shelter” your children?
We’re finding that’s a bad word in some circles. Something is creeping into the church (and even the homeschooling community), and it isn’t biblical. It is an “anti-sheltering campaign” of sorts, and it’s full of holes. Think about it. What does it mean to shelter? Protect. Defend. Guard. Preserve. Watch over. Shield. Safeguard.
Hmmmm, so far so good, right? Sure, until “pop psychology” comes in and tells us we should allow our children to taste a little of the world in order to understand it or pray for it – that we should not “over-shelter” them. Nonsense.
What’s the opposite of shelter? Expose. Endanger.
I’ve observed the arguments against sheltering typically fall under one of two categories:
First, the warning that the poor child will suffer culture-shock upon entering the “real world,” and the second, that his/her uninitiated palette will irresistibly succumb to these new and tantalizing flavors.
Leaving aside that these two possibilities seem a little contradictory, lets look at them.
First, the second (I love writing that): never having seen an actual study, I can’t even stay whether this theory is statistically true, but I don’t think it is.
My educated opinion is that when children leave the faith or are “led into sin” there are more factors than just sheltering involved.
I would blame, for example, a controlling environment where independent thought is not taught or encouraged. This lack of preparation for making choices would leave anyone vulnerable.
As to “culture shock,” I think that the majority of Americans are more “sheltered” than all but the most sheltered of children.
If they ever got the culture shock of abject poverty, of the continual fear and violence common in other parts of the world, would they be more or less likely to be thankful for the security of the familiar?
This is how I felt upon my greater acquaintance with “the real world:”
Thankful it hadn’t been foisted on me sooner.
And why the implication that culture shock is inherently negitive? (But that’s another post. Moving on.)
~
Ultimately, I think we have to look at what our goals are. Sure, perfect children would be the ideal, but as they will make their own choices that we cannot control, we have to eventually accept that.
People who do not shelter their children will make the same discovery, and I wonder if they will have more questions about whether they left out something important.
My goal is to give my children enough of a “boost” toward Truth that their own leap toward faith may not have to be into the perilous unknown.
It’s a well-established fact that humans both fear the unknown and resist starting things they don’t know will succeed.
As a parent I want to remove what stumbling blocks are in my power to remove, and one of those stumbling blocks is the outside influences that can distract from Truth or skew a developing perspective towards a more hardened heart than God intended.
Sheltering is part of meeting this goal.
Why Differences are Threatening
In expressing our opinions and describing what we do, we are expressing our values and describing what is important to us.
When we encounter people who do things differently, we can see the simple fact of those differences as attacks on our values, and, therefore, on us.
When desiring to keep the peace, I think we must remain carefully aware of this.
Just yesterday I was at a baby shower and got off on a rant about potty-training (so sue me. It’s the season I’m parenting).
The camp I’m in (if I may call it a camp) is that once the kid knows what to do, when she’s ready, she will. I refuse to force the issue because I don’t see it as important enough to initiate a battle of wills.
The camp of my listener is the early-is-better camp, having (mostly) trained all her children before they could talk.
She listened patiently, with a slightly concerned look on her face, and said carefully, “Well, that’s one way to do it.”
Gracious lady.
“I prefer to start before they develop a will,” she added, explaining her position. “Then it never becomes a battle, it’s just part of what you do.”
She is also a Suzuki-mama, so this seems totally in-line with other parts of her life.
Afterwards I was thinking about how differently we saw this and approached her to verify I hadn’t sounded rude or something, and she took the moment to both say no and express how thankful she was that we could disagree and still be friends.
“It seems like so many people can’t be friends when they don’t agree.”
And she’s right. I like to think we’d still be this gracious even if we didn’t have five years of history together, but that commonality has just got to make peace easier.
Maybe when it is established that there is much love; when we have enough shared experiences, and the proof of good-faith that grows through years, we better understand that “love covers a multitude” of differences.
This is something precious in our transient modern society: to have relationships in addition to marriage that are built over years.
I am extremely thankful for that handful of friends that, despite our dissimilitude, continue to share their lives with me.
Obsolete Parenting Skills (& One Appeal of Pets)
The poignancy of my “last” baby phase passing has begun to hit me, but it’s nothing like I’d imagined.
I’m not craving a baby to hold, or wishing for more of my own. Mostly, I’m pathetically disappointed that my acquired skills in that area are now obsolete.
Isn’t that sad?
I’m convinced now that this is why those irrepressible ladies are always stopping to offer advice or books (oops, that’s me) to anybody they see pregnant or with a tiny baby.
They want to prove to themselves (and anyone else who might notice) that they and the skills they worked so hard for are still relevant.
I’m beginning to accept this passing (as I have no other choice), but it’s made me see why pets as objects of affection and nurture are so popular.
Yes, they are individuals, and they all have varying needs and quirks, but the reality is once you get out of the “baby” stage (and the “adolescent” stage, for some species) you have years of nurturing time that you can do the exact same thing with your critter and continue to meet all its needs.
This is just. not. true. of people. Ever.
Yes, Thorin adds to my work-load. It’s impossible that he couldn’t. But the sweet simplicity of him is a relief.
~
Thankfully, even as my former competencies become obsolete, I can trust that God will give me new competencies.
I’ve said before, when talking about children growing, that there’s always things we’re glad to leave behind.
And I could start thinking that way about skills too.
Yes, I know how to soothe a crying baby, but isn’t life more peaceful when I don’t have to?
It is sad to leave behind that first phase of language where I watched them make the delighted connection between symbol and sound, and enter the big world of communication.
But I leave that behind to enter a world that is filled with learning the substance of conversation and encouragement.
This is beautiful, too, and I will bless the Lord for his goodness— that he will continue to teach me what I need to learn.
My Experience Providing Foster Care
(part 2)
Looking at it, I realize that I’m not really the most-useful person to know about. I expect very few people will do what I did, and I’m still unfamiliar enough with privacy issues to feel comfortable telling the *really interesting* bits of my experience. (I’m sure the kids would recognize themselves, no matter what names I used).
But it’s a story anyway, and I’m a storyteller. So I just pray it will be useful to somebody.
~ ~ ~
For the record, we stopped fostering just before Christmas 2003. I had an 11-month-old, and was 3-months pregnant with my second daughter. Jay and I decided that, considering the type of children we were working with, we should wait until our girls were older than the fosters we would take in.
We considered it a safety issue. We also felt that we had a responsibility to begin again when it would no longer be a risk to our own children.
Naturally, part 2 begins where part 1 left off.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When my parents entered the new program, they had to take additional classes (beyond the introductory course required of all foster parents). The new system also required more annual hours of continuing education than general foster care.
As another adult living in the household– I was 18 or 19, and attending college by now– I can’t remember if I also was required to attend a certain number of classes, or just invited.
I remember the information from those classes feeling a little like science fiction– theoretically possible, given the context, but utterly outside my sphere of experience.