Snarkiness among boys

I just made a chocolate pudding cake at the insistence of pesky nine-year-old son, and the house smells delicious. Gotta say, it was worth that first bite right out of the oven.

Speaking of pesky sons, I have been struggling with dealing with all three of my sons snarking at each other (not sure if that's the correct use of "snarking," but it FEELS right) at various times throughout the day. More often than less, if you know what I mean. I get so danged tired of telling them to knock it off that it makes me crabby, being crabby.

I know it's not right to compare, but I see other families and it seems like they all get along so much better than we do. It makes me grit my teeth (like right now, second son is hollering that first son has taken some of his money and he wants me to tell him to give it back. Whatever.)... and want to lock myself in the basement, if we had one that was decorated nicely and had plush carpeting. And a fireplace, with some fine chocolate.

What have we done wrong?? I guess there's some benefit to looking at what we've done wrong, and even better would be finding out where we need to change (once we find out what we've done wrong). But dwelling on the wrong that's been done is like praying for someone to overcome their faults, over and over. The emphasis becomes the negative, instead of focusing on the positive.

If I pray for someone's faults to improve every day, I'm thinking about how annoying these faults are, and why the heck can't they change, and how life would be so much better for me if these faults of theirs would just go away.

Ok, I can see you all smirking at me because that's exactly what I've been doing with my boys, focusing on their snarking every day instead of seeing the positive. Thanks, thanks so much. No, really, that's what I love about blogging; it's therapy, and you all get to see the messy working-out of my inner psycotherapist.

Let's see... what's the positive.... They're not on drugs; they CAN play together at times; two of them still like hugs from their mom; they listen most of the time; they still like to spend time with us; they DO try with their schoolwork most of the time; and none of them are driving. Yet.

I guess they're pretty good boys, overall. If the only thing that's bugging me at this point in life with three boys is them snarking at each other, then life's darned easy. It just feels like it's a trial sometimes, and that's only because my perspective is limited.

I'm trying to encourage more positivity in our conversations, so I've instituted a rule that for every negative comment, the instigator has to make five positive comments about the victim. It's been working out all right, and I'm hoping it's causing them to think twice before saying what they think they need to say.

The boys actually like to hear the positive comments about themselves (if the comments are sincere), and we've ended up giggling together about some of the positive comments. I've had to make some positive comments myself, and it's fun to encourage the boys by telling them how I appreciate them.

They are still boys, after all, and need encouragement to grow; it's like light and water to them. Words can be so important, and I think I haven't said enough encouraging things about the boys on a daily basis. I want to change that, and this little rule is helping me accomplish it.

How do you encourage your kids, and what are some ideas to bring positive elements into your day with them? I need all the help I can get! Thanks for reading, and stay safe and well!

Dreaming through conversations

Have you ever looked back over your day and thought, "Aw shucks, I really missed an opportunity to bless someone," or "Man, I should have said this...."

Just a few days ago I was mentally kicking myself for missing the opportunity to make someone feel special, just by saying a few words. I'm sure they didn't even miss it, but God brought it to my attention, and it probably would have made their day brighter.

I read this article just a few moments ago that addressed this very issue, and I had an Aha! moment. No, not that 80's group from Sweden (or wherever they were from). The author brought up the fascinating idea of visualizing conversations:

During my Sabbath moments, I quietly dream through the conversations I am scheduled to have. I often think about the tasks that populate my to-do list. As I imagine, I ask questions: How could I be useful in that situation? What might I say if he or she … Can I be a better listener? What word from God might come through me? It is in these imagining moments that God's Holy Spirit paints possibilities on our minds.

Here's the link if you're interested in reading the entire article: http://www.christianitytoday.com/le/2011/fall/cutsharpen.html?start=6

I love the descriptive words he uses: "dream through," "paints possibilities." But the concept is startling to me because it's something I obviously had not thought of before. Why not think through your day or week and consider what you might say BEFORE you go into that meeting or lunch?

I've read of successful athletes doing this before games -- visualizing possible plays and thinking through how they would react; what they would do next and what outcome they would like to have.

It seems like a really mindful way of living life, which is what I've been thinking a lot of lately (see my last post on Time...). I want to SEE my life -- the people who inhabit it, the situations in which God places me, and the little, everyday details that can be so important when they are noticed and celebrated.

Seems like when I was in my teens and twenties I didn't have a problem noticing life because it was so new and exciting. But in my thirties and now my forties, I'd fallen into a sleepwalk when it came to opening my inner eyes and seeing the possibilities and excitement in day-to-day life.

Switchfoot has been the only band playing on my iPod and in my van lately because they are so good at getting me to open my eyes and examine my life. If there are two songs you must hear from them, let it be "Dare You to Move" and "This is Your Life." Well, maybe three: "Meant to Live" made a big impact on me as well. Actually, get their last five albums, really listen to the lyrics, and your life will most likely change in a big way. If you do this, let me know how it goes!

I feel like I'm changing, in a good way. God is bringing new life to me and I'm feeling refreshed and alive. Part of that coming alive is taking a deep breath and suddenly really noticing where I am. And that includes paying attention when God brings articles like the one above to me, or bands and music like Switchfoot's. I am so thankful to be alive, and I want to be a blessing.

So here's to taking time to think through our days instead of sleepwalking through them! Come alive, take a lungful of air, open your eyes, see your world! And don't spend any time regretting missed opportunities, because you've taken advantage of every one that's been sent your way.

Time like a river

Autumn is in full swing in Minnesota, and each day I enjoy the lovely, colorful leaves on the trees. Some trees still have all their green leaves, others are in full glorious yellows, oranges, and blazing reds, and some are already completely bare. I keep thinking I should stop and take some pictures as I rush from place to place, but if I took the time, I'd be late to wherever I had to go. So I haven't stopped.

The other day, I was shocked to see that the goldenrod blooms which were so beautiful just a few days ago (it seemed) were now fluffy and gray. How in the heck did that happen? When did they change... it seemed so sudden! And why didn't I stop when they were at their beautiful best?

Sometimes time seems to hit you in the face, and that day, it really sucker punched me. I thought about how, most of the time, time just flows along, unnoticed, and quiet, and then all of a sudden, BAM! You realize that it has passed, and somehow you missed it -- a whole bunch of it.

That's often how we live our lives, going with the flow -- sometimes we're flowing amongst the rapids and it seems like we can hardly breathe we're going so fast. Other times, it's peaceful and quiet, and we float along, not thinking much about what's coming next, or even looking at what we are passing by on the shore.

Time is such an elusive concept... in my river analogy, it's the river... and the shore. It's in the minute changes that happen day-to-day and minute-by-minute, in us and in everything and everyone around us. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around it as I type this. We are carried along by time, and yet we are affected and changed by it, too. The one thing I know is that it waits for no one.

I'm glad time sucker-punched me that day, because since then, I've tried to be more mindful about the shore, opening my eyes and taking in as much as I can. Because one day, if I'm not mindful, my life will be different (heck, tomorrow will be different!), and I will wonder where all that time went. It didn't go anywhere... it was there all along, flowing mindlessly while I closed my eyes to it.

So open your eyes, as I try to keep mine open. Look in wonder at the beauty around you, at the beautiful people around you. Notice something new today; look for it like you would look for treasure. Because that's what life is, a treasure given to us to enjoy and give thanks for. And stop and take a few pictures while you're at it!

Unimaginable blessings

Lately, the beautiful weather here in Minnesota has been just perfect. Warm, sunny days with low humidity, and every few days a deep, soaking rainshower comes along to water the gardens and lawns. This is what we dream of in deep winter when we shiver, fingers icy as we start our cold cars.

But I don't want to talk too much about weather....

I was sitting in our patio the other day, enjoying the coolness of the morning sun, eating a really juicy white peach, and thinking about unimaginable blessings. Unimaginable... what does that look like? Each of us has our own idea of unimaginable; mine would look different from yours.

For example, eating that deliciously fragrant peach is an unimaginable blessing to a starving child. They have no idea a fruit like that even exists, and eating one would be outside the realm of their possibilities.

I am surrounded by unimaginable blessings. If you're reading this, most likely, you are too. Open your eyes to see these inconceivable things; imagine being brought here from a cardboard shack in some third world slum and being inundated by this wealth.

We may not think we're wealthy in material ways -- after all the economy stinks, and jobs are scarce. But we are wealthy... even the "poor" of this nation live in unimaginable wealth when you compare it to the poor of many other nations.

I watched a TV show that interviewed several people "living in poverty" in the US, and they also showed their homes/apartments. What struck me is that our definition of poverty is so skewed.... They had MANY material items; in fact, one man had a wall full of what looked like VCR movies and CDs.

For a family of five to qualify for free school lunches, the maximum wage earned has to be below something like $45,000 a year. Wow. We are a blessed nation indeed.

I'm sure in my sheltered life I haven't seen everything there is to see about living in poverty in the US. I know that. When you compare the poor here to the wealthy, the chasm is pretty deep... but not as deep as it could be.

This isn't an economic rant... I am just overwhelmed at the amount of good things that surrounds me, and want to be grateful for it, and never to take it for granted. I need to remind myself that I AM RICH, materially, and spiritually. Thank goodness I have a Creator to whom I can be thankful.

How are you surrounded by unimaginable blessings?

"Get rich quick; count your blessings." (Church sign here in St. Francis)

In need of a hug

I wrote something about a year ago that makes me tear up when I read it. My boys are getting bigger every day, and it's hard to measure their growth on a day-to-day basis. So it's nice to look back and see how far they've come in a year's time.

I wrote this in my "therapy journal" which helps me work things out by writing in the third person. I'll try not to mention which son I'm talking about, but you may be able to guess.
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"...#2 especially has been a pain in the rear end for a while now, and she was nearing the end of her rope with him.

There was a moment last Saturday when she dropped him off at choir -- when he dropped his bad boy attitude long enough to show her (unconsciously) that he was only a 12-year-old in need of a hug. He'd gotten out of the van and she put her arms out for a hug, and to her surprise, he came willingly, without the usual dramatics.

She felt something go klunk and looked down, breaking contact briefly. It was her cell phone, so she picked it up, and was surprised again when he continued the hug.

Afterward, his awkward "I'm twelve and I don't really need hugs" self came to the fore briefly, but before that, she saw the shy neediness in his eyes.

On the way home, she cried for that boy, the sensitive, affectionate, sweet one buried most of the time underneath the loud, raucous, obnoxious, attention-seeking show-off. That quiet boy needed his mom to give him the encouragement and affection he needs to survive and grow strong.

But if he doesn't get it, he covers up the hurt by being louder than everyone; the noise drowning out the cry of his psyche for the affirmation that he is worthy."

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This parenting thing will break your heart, but as someone once said, "If it doesn't break your heart it isn't love." Mistakes and bad decisions aside, I love my sons more than just about anything or anyone, and I have to cling to that when the bad times come. I KNOW I love them, and in my imperfect way, I want to do the best I can as a mom. With God's help, I can only keep trying.

Norway and the dark side

The nightmarish events in Norway remind us all that horror is sometimes just a heartbeat away. As I discussed with others why this human being would intentionally kill fellow human beings, someone said, "no offense, but this was a radical right-wing fundamentalist."

I took no offense, because this "fundamentalist" is as far from my way of thinking as Mercury is from Pluto. There's no difference between this "right-wing nut" and a "left-wing nut" when they decide to lay aside their humanity and dance with the devil. The outcome is the same; people get killed, innocents are slaughtered, all for the good of some ideal that is outside the bounds of sanity. I am deeply angry at this man who calls himself "Christian;" he can call himself whatever he wants, but his actions proved that he is no follower of Christ.

When we talk about left-wing or right-wing, we get the idea that there's some kind of line, stretching from the left to the right, with the vast majority of us somewhere in the middle. But that view was challenged for me when I considered the actions of this "Christian" who took lives into his own hands and decided to play God.

I won't mention his name, because from what I've read, he WANTS the notoriety, he wants the world-wide forum that being a mass murderer gives you because the world cannot fathom WHY this had to be done.

Instead of a straight line, with extremists on each end wreaking havoc with the world order, I picture a circle, with a side populated by most of the world; rational, sane, humane people. But as you move away from that, you come to the small section where rational thought gives way to insane logic. The section where, no matter whether your ideology is right or left, the end result is always a break with sanity.

The finger-pointing and name-calling because one side did this, or the other side did that, is ultimately useless and always takes away from the possible solution of peace and unity. How do we move from the side of right into the side of wrong? How does that happen?

The world is asking that question now, and if we can learn anything from this, it's that every step we take in this journey of life can take us in one direction or another. Toward the light side of the circle, or the dark side. The good news is we get to choose which way to take, and I hope that we examine every step to make sure that we are not heading to the wrong side.

An enviable legacy

Lazy summer days... I am blessed to be able to stay home with the kids and spend time with them while they're still young. And I'm thankful that they're able to take care of themselves pretty much (my diaper days are done for now, hallelujah).

As I think of ways to keep them occupied, I contemplate my life. I often think of myself as a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl who is sometimes capable of moments of planned organization. Routines and schedules, while I like them when I follow them, don't often stay long when I'm in charge of implementing and maintaining them.

I have moments of clarity and forethought, like when I thought of having the boys learn to cook by taking charge of one meal a day once a week. My 15-year-old made a really lovely baked fondue from the Good Housekeeping cook book. There's hope that he'll take after his dad in the cooking department.

Overall, though, I go through many of my days without much of a plan or routine. While that's good for spur-of-the-moment things, I can't help but feel that it's merely drifting through life. Yes, living life moment-by-moment can be some people's ideal, especially those who are trapped in the past or worried about the future. But moderation in all things, right?

So I envy those who have discipline in their lives; those who have a plan and know that they're doing something to accomplish it. And I think that as we learn discipline and forethought in our lives, we build on it with each year that we're on this earth. We teach it to our children, consciously or unconsciously. Then they learn and pass it on to their children, and the legacy builds with each generation.

Some families who've started this process sooner and have learned to effectively pass it on build up a tremendous family legacy that is obvious in the descendants. You see it in the way they ARE; gracious, kind, loving, thoughtful, disciplined.

That's one kind of legacy; the one I aspire to. Other legacies are not so enviable, of course, and there's always the possibility that one generation goes horribly wrong in a long line of honorable ancestors. And while it's vital that we pass on what we've learned to our kids and build good habits and disciplines in ourselves and teach them to our kids, we will also pass on those not-so-good habits and idiosyncrasies that make us slap ourselves on the forehead in frustration.

My hope is that the legacy I'm passing on right now won't mess my kids up too much. But I still have a little time left; I pray that I'll make good use of that time, and keep learning myself how to live a worthy life that they'll want to emulate, especially during these lazy summer days.

I know that I'm not perfect (God sure knows that), and my kids are not an extension of me, so I'll not put myself under that kind of pressure. But I can do all that I am able to pass on a legacy worthy of envy.

What legacy are you passing on? Share your wisdom with me and I will thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Finding someone noble

Sometimes, doing the right thing feels wrong. Does that make it wrong, or is it just hard?

I've been contemplating my life lately (watch out everyone), and got to thinking about how we can see so clearly how other people are doing the wrong things (especially to us!), and if they'd ever ask, we'd have so much excellent advice for them.

Yet when it comes to our own actions, we're often blind to what we're doing wrong, or make excuses to justify what we're doing. Why is that?

I like a good movie or tv show as much as anyone else, and one of the things that hooks me is a main character who is good. Not perfect... good. Someone who sometimes makes the wrong decision, but realizes quickly that they're on the wrong side and makes the necessary adjustment, no matter how painful.

I think the word "noble" describes these characters... they can be counted on to do the right thing. As I thought on the characteristics of a noble person, I had to think about myself, and how I don't always look or behave nobly.

Merriam-Webster defines noble this way:

possessing, characterized by, or arising from superiority of mind or character or of ideals or morals: lofty; a noble ambition

Well, that's a little bit of relief... being noble is completely out-of-the-ordinary, and if nothing else, I am completely ordinary (relatively speaking). Of course, that doesn't remove the responsibility for me to at least try to be noble.

Applying noble (which includes always being on the right side) to my life, then, should be an easy matter, right? Well not easy, but at least clear to see. When you apply the lens of being noble to your life, and actually think about what that means, it does become clearer which side you should be standing on.

For example, being a wife and mother of noble character looks a certain way, don't you think? Not necessarily exactly like the woman in Proverbs 31, but pretty close. If we updated it to today's language, what would that look like to you?

My life as a wife and mother could definitely use some tweaking to look noble, but even if you're not a wife or mother, what does noble look like to a single woman, a sister, a father, a son? Each of us has our own set of criteria, but I think we all know deep in our hearts which side is the right side, no matter the situation.

So in this journey called life, I'm going to adjust my lenses and peek into my dark corners, trying to find my noble self and release her. I know she's in there somewhere....

(Proverbs 31:10-31)

Who do you think you are?!

Have you ever wondered how other people view you? Have you ever thought about how you view yourself? Life-altering questions....

I took a temperament test a few months ago, and one of the things that struck me as I read the analysis was that I apparently like shiny, prettily wrapped things... even if there's nothing inside them. Now I don't know about you, but that would seem to say something about me, and it's not good.

What does that even mean? I was taken aback by what that meant to me at first blush: that I'm a shallow person not concerned about meaning or substance -- just let it look pretty and I'll be fine with it. I'd always thought of myself as an intelligent person with some issues. According to this test, I have a lot of issues, and intelligence is definitely one of them.

My view of myself as a person skewed sideways and I was forced to view myself with new eyes. Is that really how I am? How does that show up -- in my environment, in how I deal with people, in how I deal with life?

Makes me want to get a degree in psychology just to find out. My psych teacher at St. Cloud State University told us that all psychology majors go into that degree with the intent to fix themselves. Don't know how true that is -- psych majors, help me out here. That's why I'd get MY psych degree....

Maybe I only THINK that I'm not shallow, but maybe that's what shallow people like to think so they don't throw themselves off high ledges. We all know people who we THINK are shallow, but do others think that about us? And are these people actually shallow, or do we just not know them well enough? Is it being judgmental to think that some people are shallow? And what does "shallow" even mean?

I've been known to hold a lot of strange facts in my head... you may well have been a recipient of one of my strange, little-known facts. In fact, I've even called myself the Queen of Unknown (and Why Do You Need to Know This) Trivia. Does that mean I hold onto little facts without digging into deeper meanings and more information? Do I even have enough time to look into these things in-depth? And do I need to come up with a better name?

I do know that when I'm interested in something, I will tear it apart (and the internet) trying to find information on it and become maybe a little obsessive about it. But is just knowledge any good? Should I be trying to see/process that knowledge into a bigger picture and apply it? Application is usually good, unless it involves drugs and/or immoral activities.

In the end, I have to remind myself that all tests have weaknesses; maybe this is one area that they're wrong about. Dear Lord, let them be wrong about it! Otherwise, I'd have to face the fact that my view of myself has been completely wrong for my entire 43 years.

It's nice to know that no matter my own personal weaknessess and foibles, God loves me even though He knows EVERYTHING about me. As a mom, I know that not even I have that perfect perspective about my own precious, crazy offspring.

In the meantime, if you receive a prettily-wrapped present from me with nothing inside it, I don't mean anything by it -- except that I forgot to put your gift inside. Maybe I should just stick with cards.

Let me know if the analysis is dead-on... or not. I won't hold it against you either way. Promise.

Of flowers... and bedbugs

I'm cautiously optimistic that we may be done with freezing temperatures... it's May 5th, after all! Of course, this IS Minnesota, and the last freeze date is still weeks away, I believe. The grass has just leaped out of the ground, and the spreading green is such a relief to my eyes.

Tulips, hyacinths, daffodils, forsythia, and other hardy spring flowers are showing their sunny faces, and I see tons flower buds on the many lilac bushes in our new backyard. There's a little round flower or herb garden in the middle of the yard that has some mysterious buds pushing up out of the earth, through the overgrown dead grass. Can't wait to see what those are.

Spring is my favorite part of the year, until the mosquitoes hatch out, then it becomes my least favorite. I'm hoping our proximity to the Rum River won't make our property mosquito central. Sometimes it seems with every good thing, there's a little bad to go with it.

I know that the despised mosquito has a place in nature, feeding all those birds, fish, and other wild critters, but do they have to like MY blood so much? I ask myself on those gray, cloudy days when I'm feeling particularly affected by SAD (seasonal affective disorder -- not enough sunshine), WHY did God have to create the mosquito? Can't even blame Noah and the Ark for that one, because the flood was mosquito heaven.

And don't even get me started on ticks, leeches, bedbugs, and other ickies that like to feed off us humans. Oh, and in the tropics, you REALLY don't want to know what some creatures do to survive on and IN humans. If you watch Animal Planet, they have some shows that'll keep you awake nights.

But they are all God's creations, just as much as those lovely flowers are, however much I'd like them not to be. They would seem to be the dark spots on God's tapestry of life, the shadows cast by those flowers. As much as we wish they weren't around, they are, and we have to accept that.

That's why I'm so looking forward to a time in the future when "the wolf and the lamb will feed together" (Isaiah 65:25) and not ON each other! Now, the Bible doesn't say this, but I'm assuming, because it also says "the sound of weeping and of crying will be heard... no more," (Is. 65:19) that mosquitoes will no longer want to hunt me down and make me weep into my coffee when I step outside on a sunny June morning.

I'm just hoping that blood-sucking creatures will be happy eating dirt, or whatever other non-living things they can find. OR, horrors, does it mean we just won't care that they still want our blood? I shudder to think about that option. Maybe I'll be like that crazy mosquito biologist who goes into the wild tropics and lets rare mosquito breeds feed on him so they'll perpetuate. That's just... crazy.

Maybe I'm a perpetual pessimist and can't see the flowers without also seeing the bugs and other negatives. Some may say I'm a realist. Whichever it is, I hope I can focus on the flowers and enjoy them while being aware and wary of the other things, the dark spots on my sunny spring days.

Isn't that the essence of a joyful life? Knowing that bad things are here, but able to still enjoy the good things that God has given us. I'm still working on it.

What's your favorite thing about spring? Help me overcome my negativity :-)

Some people are just soooo depraved...

Just finished pictures with the Easter Bunny today, hallelujah. Whenever I work with either the Bunny or Santa, I see a side of human nature that makes me shake my head in disbelief. Read on if you don't mind learning about human depravity!

I think people forget the reason why they do these things... it's for the children, right? And if there's a nice picture, bonus. As a company, we do it to make money, no bones about it. And if we didn't make money, no more Easter Bunny/Santa.

But I've had perfectly sane-looking people come up to me with their children, and do something that just astounds me. When I tell them nicely that if they're not purchasing our pictures, we ask them not to take any pictures with their cameras, these women (and some men) will say, "Well, I'm taking them anyway. I waited 30 minutes." And then proceed to take pictures with their own cameras as I stand there.

Granted, these bad apples are few and far between, thank heavens. But the fact that they're out there makes me wonder what in the world is going through their mind when they do it. How can that be worth it? They get a picture of their child knowing that they were dishonest and... frankly, mean about it. It's the meanness of character that gets to me.

I told one woman (nicely) that it's just like going into a store and stealing, because taking pictures is what WE do, and the picture is our product that we sell. Didn't faze her one bit, she just kept snapping away. There's really nothing we can do about it, because we don't want to ruin it for the children, who are witnessing (innocently) their parent's lack of a moral base.

Our company policy is actually for no camera devices to be allowed on the set, which makes more sense to me because then there's no opportunity to cheat. I'm hoping we move more toward that policy in the future, because this part of my job is absolutely the worst. Give me a screaming two-year-old over a dishonest parent anytime.

When Santa used to be a mall promotion to get people to come, the malls used to provide the Santas, the film, the camera, and gave the pictures away because they were trying to get people to shop at their mall.

Gradually, they started charging for the pictures, and now, it's a professional studio with the lighting, digital cameras, and heavy-duty printers. Only it's better than a studio, because we have a real, live Santa or Easter Bunny! But a studio would never say "Yes, you can take pictures with your camera as long as you buy something." Yet we say that every day to people. No wonder they think we should just let them take their own photos! That policy needs to change to "I'm sorry, no camera devices are allowed." Period.

But it takes training and re-training employees and customers, and it's a process. We hardly ever have people coming up anymore saying, "Oh, they let us just take pictures last year!" with a wide-eyed, innocent look. They know not to try that because it hasn't been allowed for many years.

Another scam that we've been seeing is, "Oh, I don't know what package to get." Then they allow me to bust my butt and take really nice pictures of their kids (while they're snapping away with their expensive DSLR), and then have the nerve to say, "No, I don't want to buy any pictures today."

Ugh. If Christ hadn't died for EVERY SINGLE ONE of these people, I would be totally disgusted by them. As it is, I see that if not for Him, I might be just like them (Lord help me, that was hard to type). Only Christ can redeem these, and despite what I think, they ARE totally redeemable. Too bad they've apparently walked away from the priceless gift that He's holding out to them.

I hope you know what that gift is and how it can change your life, like it's changed mine. In fact, thinking about what Christ has given up for me and what He paid for ME to be redeemed is making me feel better. It's taking that ugly, heavy feeling off my chest from thinking about the bad deeds I've seen this Easter season.

Tomorrow we celebrate Christ's resurrection. He's the only One with an empty tomb because He's alive today. He died on Friday for me - and for you - because the penalty for sin is death. I didn't have to die for my sins (ALL of them) because Christ died for them.

I accepted Christ's gift - He saved me from a death I totally deserved. He died the most awful, painful, humiliating death that man could conceive, and He did it for me, for you, for everyone on this planet.

Do you think Jesus was just a great teacher? Is He just another religious leader to you? I challenge you to really read the Bible and see what He was, and is.

We aren't happy about Easter Sunday because it's all about the Bunny. Because it's not. And all those people I wrote about need Christ, but no more than I did at one time. Do you need Him?

Terrified of the Bunny

Around this time of year, a tradition we have here in the US is taking a picture with the Easter bunny -- not as popular or well-known as the ubiquitous picture with Santa, but entertaining nevertheless.

Our Easter bunny at Northtown Mall is a very dignified, studious-looking rabbit because he has enormous glasses. They indicate poor vision, which is why he has to eat so many carrots. But he's also got soft white fur and gigantic feet, which endears him to many 3- and 4-year olds. The 2-year-olds, on the other hand...! You knew I had some stories, right?

I write this because I am the photographer for this as well as for Santa, and I enjoy it (mostly). I can't give away all the secrets, but I will say that our official position is that the Easter bunny shall always be a "he" no matter who inhabits his suit, and he never speaks, unless it's an emergency.

We did have a situation a couple of days ago when the Easter bunny's "grandma" told him that she'll be over for dinner that night... IN THE PRESENCE of an impressionable 5-year-old, so I had to tell the child that it's pretty cool that she gets to have dinner with the Easter bunny. I hope the parent isn't too confused when the kid says he wants to have the bunny over for dinner, too.

One of the most fun things about this job is seeing the children react to our bunny.

When 2-year-olds see the bunny for the first time, there are usually two reactions. The first one involves a lot of staring and open-mouthed astonishment, which evolves into frantic clutching of the parent when he/she walks within 10 feet of the furry critter. This is usually followed by loud screaming and tears, not conducive to (of? for? pick one) an attractive Easter photo.

The second reaction usually happens when the parent is wise enough to recognize the increasing tension in the child's grip on his/her shoulder and slows down enough to give the child time to get used to a human-sized creature that normally is smaller than a breadbox. Still a lot of staring, but as the parent sidles toward the sitting bunny, the child tentatively reaches out and gives the bunny a high-five, with a lot of coaxing. And then we can proceed with the sitting, because it's within the realm of possibility now.

But what I love the most (no matter the age) are the expressions of rapture and adoration when they hug the bunny or give him a handshake. They are just thrilled to be in the presence of such an amazing creature, and it shows in the glow of their faces. It makes the other screaming ones almost worthwhile.

Sometimes, and I feel a little bad about this, but the screaming pictures are often pretty hilarious. It's so tragic that it's funny, even though we know the child was definitely not faking it. So I will often take a picture of the screaming child because I know there's a possibility that it will be funny cute.

Everyone loves the CUTE cute pictures, you know, the ones where the child is absolutely delighted to be sitting there, and smiling like a cherub. You've seen some of those, and I'm usually pretty good at getting those, most of the time.

But the FUNNY cute and TRAGIC cute ones stand out. Any psychologist (professional or otherwise) willing to offer an explanation about this is welcome to leave a comment. The only thing I can think is that we know the object of their absolute terror is... a fuzzy bunny. And so we don't take their fear seriously.

It's funny how even in a blog about the Easter bunny and terrified children I can see a God connection. When we see God, do we see a Being with whom we can sit and feel totally comfortable and loved, with complete devotion and affection our response? Or are we terrified to sit alone with Him, afraid that He'll find us out and reveal us to the world with all our darkness and warts? Or that He'll arbitrarily punish us just because He can?

(WARNING: Spoiler) I guess it comes down to how well you know the object of your affection, or terror. If the children really knew that a normal human being sits beneath that bunny suit, their terror would vanish. If we really knew God the way He wants us to know Him we would feel wrapped in love when we sit with Him.

Do you have a funny Easter bunny story?

Praying for a bracelet

You know how when you get something, all of a sudden, you see it everywhere? Whenever we get a new (to us, anyway) vehicle, my eyes are opened up to seeing that same make and model everywhere I go.

I lost a lovely silver bracelet a few months ago. It had a magnet closure, which is one of the main reasons why I lost it. The other main reason was that I was driving through a blizzard at night and the wipers were having a hard time keeping up with all the snow piling up on the windshield.

As I reached out to grab the wiper and pull it up so it can hit the windshield and bang off some of the accumulated snow, my bracelet caught the edge of the window and flew off onto the snow-filled street. I was dismayed because it was the first time I'd worn the bracelet, and I loved it because it had little silver hearts that had "faith", "hope", and "love" printed on them.

I stopped the van on the side of the road and tried to look for it, but the snow was coming down so hard and it was so dark that it was hopeless. Several times over the last few months, I stopped and tried to look on the side of the road, but the snowbanks were piled pretty high, and the odds of seeing the bracelet in all that snow were pretty low.

So yesterday, with the warmer weather and the snow melting all over, I thought I'd have a go at it again. It was a lovely, sunny day, and I had a little time as I drove home from my BSF meeting. The last few times I'd tried to look, I don't remember ever praying for help as I looked. I thought to myself that this was such a little matter; God really didn't need to be bothered by this puny request.

But that day, I realized that it bothered me a little that I couldn't find this bracelet... there was a sense of non-closure. Maybe it's my latent OCD coming out, whatever. So I prayed for help, to the God of the universe, that He'd help me find this bracelet. I prayed that I'd see the flash of silver and somehow find closure in this trifling matter.

Now I know that He doesn't always answer prayers right away. It's not that He doesn't hear or doesn't care, He just has a bigger picture of things, and He knows what's good for us, even when we vehemently disagree with Him. Sometimes He says "yes," sometimes He says "no," and sometimes, to our chagrin and impatience, He says "wait." And sometimes He waits patiently for us to even ask for help or guidance. But He always answers... in His perfect time.

As I walked on the side of the road, looking for a flash of silver, I prayed, sometimes a little desperately, despite my lack of attachment to this bracelet. I mean, I hadn't had it for even a week before I lost it!

Those who don't believe in the power of prayer would say that it doesn't matter... when something happens, it's a cosmic coincidence if it happens the way we want it to, and it just sucks if it doesn't. There's no reason for why things happen, they just do. Some people live their whole lives this way, not even thinking there may be another way, and I'm so glad I don't have that particular world view right now. I used to, and I was a different person then. But that's another story.

Anyway, after about 15 minutes of intense searching, I saw a flash of silver that wasn't a tin can or gum wrapper. It was a heart, mostly white, with just a little patch of silver, unmistakably a piece of my bracelet. The silver must have corroded off most of the heart, and the rest of the bracelet was nowhere to be seen.

I leaned down to pick it up and stared at it with a sense of wonder... and closure. I had asked Him for help in this simple matter, and He did. I saw His love for me in that little piece of bracelet, and felt like the God of the entire universe stooped down to care for me in that moment. The feeling was indescribable.

Just as we suddenly start to see vehicles similar to our own, when we look for God in the little things, He will show Himself to us. My eyes were opened to how God works in the puny things, and I could feel Him there with me, standing on the side of the road. He answered my little request, and it seemed a miracle.

Cynics may say that it was pure luck that I found that heart. But then they will have missed the feelings of love and care that I felt when I found it. I'd rather live with the faith and hope that God is really here, than live without it.

Thanks for spending some time with me on the side of the road, and on my path in life. May you see God in the little things!

What are you bonkers about?

Community. What comes to mind when you see that word? I see a group of people who are passionate about something -- whether it's bird-watching, beer, or bible study. It's so fabulous when you are with that group of people and you can talk with them about your "thing" and know that they're right with you. You don't have to worry that they think you're a little bonkers because of your passion... ok, let's say the word -- "obsession"  -- with that particular thing. Because you know they're also a little bonkers about it.

When you find yourself part of a real community, it's a wonderful feeling... with none of the fear and uncertainty that comes with some of those high school cliques. Knowing that there are others out there who are like you in this one way makes you feel a sense of belonging.

I have a specific instance where that sense of belonging made me grin like a silly girl for a while. It happened while I finished up my Bible Study Fellowship (BSF) study last week, and I had to look up a few words for their definitions.

I use the Merriam-Webster online dictionary, and as I looked up these words ("iniquity", "transgressions", and "justify"... whew!), there's a space at the bottom of the page that asks you why you needed to look up these words. For all three of those words, just about every comment came from fellow BSF'ers who were working on their lessons, too!

That unexpected sense of community hit me like a silly stick and I was really happy for a while. It made me think of why I do what I do, and I have to say, BSF has been a great thing for me these past two years. The study of John last year and now Isaiah this year has taught me so much and changed my attitude in major ways.

And don't even get me started on how much I've learned as a Children's Leader this year... I use some of BSF's tips and techniques on my own boys and it's made such a difference. Like they say, there's no better way to learn something than to teach it.

Speaking of BSF, the lesson this last week has been on Isaiah's prophecy about Jesus and His death on the cross. Isaiah wrote the book 700+ years before Jesus was born, and he got all the details of the crucifixion down... before crucifixion was even invented as a way to kill people. It astounds me the amount of suffering that Jesus had to experience before giving up His life.

The emotions that come most often when I think about His sacrifice is grief... and gratitude. That's a strange mixture, but it's exactly how I feel when I think about how He suffered and died, not just for the whole world, but specifically, for me.

Pretty heavy way to start out the week, but that's the way the ball bounces, to quote a very happy senior citizen (I want to be old like this guy, and I'll write about him in another post!). I am bonkers about my BSF community and thank God for how I'm learning and growing as a person through BSF.

I kinda dragged you into my community with this post, but hope you learned something on the journey. Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave any comments here... I love to hear what you're thinking.

What's your community?

No gray hair for me!

Vanity, oh, vanity.

When I started getting gray hairs a few years back (hey, I'm not saying how many!), I was surprised and maybe a little angry at them, so I'd yank them out by the roots and triumphantly throw them into the garbage.

My poor younger brother wondered how I didn't have any grays, since he was sprouting them all over. I really should have told him what I was doing, but... I didn't, let's just leave it at that. I'm a little ashamed of that... sorry little bro.

Not too long ago, I saw a lone gray hair at the crown of my head, sticking up proudly in all of its... different-colored glory. As I glumly considered the price of aging, I looked at that little hair and saw that it was shining, healthy, and pure white! Not gray, or some dingy half-color. But silvery white! How pretty is that?

I think it's amazing that God has created our "default" hair color to be pure white. All ethnicities return to this glorious color as we age... doesn't matter how dark our hair before, we all eventually get white hair when our follicles give up the ghost and decide not to work anymore.

About a month ago, I let my boys know that I blame them for my gray hairs. Yes, I said that. Doesn't every parent say that at least once in a child's life? I'm not proud of that, either. I also blamed Dalen for my varicose veins... I hope he can get past that emotional damage soon.

But now, with my new perspective on my lovely white hairs, I can thank the boys for bringing this on sooner than later. I do love my boys, even if they sometimes sap every ounce of my energy when they can't get along.

I'm actually kind of excited to see what I look like with all white hair. My mom looks fabulous with her elegant mingle of white and black hair, and I'm so proud of her for not giving in to the dye-my-hair-for-the-rest-of-my-life trap.

When I look at my white hairs, I smile, and thank God for His default setting in this little area. It's a good reminder of how to be grateful for the little things, and appreciate the fact that I have hair! Not that it's bad to NOT have hair... there are pros and cons in everything. But I've found my "silver" lining!

What's a silver lining you've discovered recently?

Spring and gardening is coming!

One of the surest signs of spring is when the clock "springs" forward an hour, thereby depriving us of an hour of sleep, but giving us hope that eventually there will be more daylight and warm weather. Minnesotans take any bit of hope we can grasp with our cold, frozen little fingers.

We are looking forward to 50-degree weather this week... YAHOO!!! There may be some who will venture out in their t-shirts and shorts, blinding us all with their lily-white skin, but I plan to take it easy. Maybe I'll wear a lighter coat and leave off the scarf and gloves. Who knows, we're living large here in the northland!

Plus, the annual winter hibernation has brought its normal result (unlike the wild animals, who LOSE weight with hibernation, I put it on like an extra layer of protection against the cold), which means I'm going to need to do some serious gardening this spring and summer.

Gardening is exercise I can handle. Exercise I can't handle includes going outside in cold or hot weather, sweating in any capacity, and breathing too much dry indoor air. So there's not much left that I CAN handle. Sheesh, no wonder I've been gaining a more serious layer of protection every year!

Add to that the sneaking suspicion that I'm going through perimenopause, and my winter has been something else. I don't understand why they don't just call it menopause, unless it's to make us forty-somethings feel better about it. "Oh, I'm not going through menopause yet. It's PERImenopause, you see. Totally different because I'm way too young to be going through MENOPAUSE."

But back to my meandering musings. I am so looking forward to gardening this year because we will finally be moving into our own home, after three years living with our loving and longsuffering relatives. We are so grateful for family who loves us enough to let us live with them!

And I have to say, it's been a truly wonderful experience, living with another family for long periods of time (years!). It would seem to be an unusual thing for it to be a truly wonderful experience, but it really has, honest!

Sometimes, when my lovely sis-in-law and I would meet in one of our living rooms (they have a downstairs apartment that they let us stay in) in our robes, chatting over our morning coffee, we would wonder why more families didn't do this -- share a roof but have separate living spaces.

We did find out that as our kids got older, the space became too small for our growing families, but the kids LOVED having their cousins right upstairs/downstairs. It's much more understandable to me how families "back when" could stand living in tighter quarters than we do now. I'm sure that with the housing market the way it is, more families are discovering the wonders of living together.

I'm so thankful that it's been a wonderful experience. And now, living with Brian's dad, in his too-big house since my dear mom-in-law passed on almost two years ago, has also been a wonderful experience. I'm not kidding; no rosy mist interfering with my memories because we're still living with dear dad-in-law and will be for at least a couple more months while we fix up our house.

Honestly, I think it's unusual because we have the greatest family in the world, on both sides. We are all normal people with normal problems and some dysfunctions (just like everyone else in the world), but family is always priority. There's nothing we wouldn't do for each other. What a blessing!

The boys saw our house for the first time tonight, and they are so excited to have their own rooms. It's a small house, but just right for us. We close on it tomorrow morning, and I must be a little anxious about it because I had a nightmare last night that we were not able to get the house because someone else had bought it. Yikes.

So gardening in my own dirt, putzing around in my own house, and loving EVERY situation God puts me in... that's what I'm really looking forward to this spring. Now if only my teenagers would calm down....

Listening to that little voice

Why do we put off doing good? I know that sounds so grammatically wrong, but I'm talking about deeds of goodness here, just to clarify. I often get a little voice that says, "You should do this for that person, that would really help them out." It's worrisome when I respond to that little voice out loud, but that doesn't happen very often.

When I respond and actually do the good thing, I usually feel great afterward. Sometimes it ends up being awkward and I don't feel so great, like the time I saw a young woman (late teens, early 20s?) walking on the side of the highway on a snowy, blustery winter day. She looked REALLY cold, so I stopped ahead of her to ask her if she needed a ride. It was hard to get to the shoulder because of the heavy traffic that was moving pretty fast, and the shoulder was really slippery.

Now I don't normally make it a habit to stop and offer rides to people, but I figured she looked too cold to be ready to rob me or whatever. What I didn't think about at the moment was how it would look to HER -- a gray van pulling over and slowing to a stop in front of her. Plus, I had pulled over to avoid the traffic, and that didn't leave her any room to walk on the plowed part, so she had to go into the deeper snow to get past the van.

When I rolled down the window (wow, that's an inaccurate term nowadays) to ask her if she needed a ride, she very politely smiled and said, "No, thanks" and kept on walking. Well, DUH! After I thought about it for two and a half seconds, I realized that young women should never accept rides from strangers unless they're bleeding uncontrollably, and even then, to be very careful about it.

So that good deed turned out really bad, but I think I would have felt worse if I hadn't stopped. I think that's one of the reasons I argue with that small voice when it tells me I should do something. I remember the times when it's gone bad, and I get discouraged from trying it again.

But what's even worse is when I don't even think about the good deed in the first place. Something happens and I think in retrospect, "Oh goodness, I could've done that to help and it would've been so much easier for them!" Then I slap myself mentally on the forehead and vow to do better next time.

I think what is required is time spent... thinking. In silence. With no noise or distraction. I am so not good at that. I'm one of those people who cannot leave the radio off in the car. There MUST be music or something. So thinking in silence is very hard for me.

A while ago, I spent a few hours sitting on the couch, just thinking about everything. I had no music, TV, computer, nothing. Just me and my notebook. WOW... that was so fruitful. I was listening to my thoughts and interacting with them (not talking out loud, either. I don't think.) and coming to some surprising conclusions.

I've done it in the car, too, when I'm driving somewhere that will take a little time (anywhere is a little time from St. Francis). When I take off the radio, I actually allow myself to think and mull over things. And then that little voice can tell me where I can do good and for whom, and I can think about other ways I can help too, instead of simply reacting to the immediate need.

As you might have guessed, the little voice that leads me to do good would be the Holy Spirit. When I listen to that voice and follow through, sometimes it feels good, and sometimes it doesn't. But that's not really the point, is it, to feel good about it? Because if we did it to feel good, it would be a little self-serving, which would kind of take away from the good deed.

Sometimes when we talk about doing a quiet time each day, we fill that time with reading or praying, or listening to music. Those are all good things, and it's good to do them every day. But there should also be times of quiet listening. Listening to ourselves or to God, and following through with those little promptings.

How will you respond the next time you hear that little voice telling you to do a good deed?

P.S. The little voice that's telling you to lie or cheat would NOT be the Holy Spirit, just sayin'!

A Cruise Ship to Ponder

I like word pictures; they seem to stick with me longer than most anything else (besides actual pictures). I'm a very visual person, so it makes sense that seeing a picture in my mind will make it come more alive. This past week, I've had a picture come to my mind and it's really sticking, so I'd like to share it with you.

Imagine a big ocean, calm and serene or gray and angry or even storming and wild. Whatever fits your mood for the moment. As you survey the water, you suddenly see a cruise ship coming in your line of sight. It's huge, almost the size of small city, and whatever waves you've envisioned aren't doing anything to affect the cruise ship's path through the water.

Then you realize that you're in a little rubber dinghy with a motor in it, a small motor. And you're heading straight for the cruise ship. You can see people on the ship through the windows, and they're having a fabulous time, dancing, relaxing, or chatting with each other.

You're not sure where the cruise ship is heading, but you really want to know, and so you get right up to its side as it slices majestically through the water. Reaching over, you bang on the hull and yell, "Where are you going? What are you DOING?" No answer.

Of course, you have to keep your course with the ship, but your little motor is having a hard time following, and your useless banging on the hull isn't doing any good, and it's not getting you any answers. So of course... you redouble your efforts and bang harder and yell louder.

This word picture came to me as I studied Isaiah 46: God's purpose is like that cruise ship. Isaiah 46:11b is the verse that inspired this word picture:

"What I have said, that will I bring about; what I have planned, that will I do."


We have two choices when it comes to interacting with God's purpose for our lives... we can be on that rubber dinghy, banging on the side of the ship, shouting and agonizing about where it's going. Or we can be ON the cruise ship, relaxing and going with the flow.

Sometimes, even being on the cruise ship doesn't guarantee you know where it's going, but at least you can relax while you're getting there! Personally, I prefer to be on the ship, and whenever I get the urge to get in my little rubber dinghy and start banging on the hull, I stop and ask myself if it will actually do any good.

I can relax on the cruise ship because I know the Captain personally, and I know He's an AWESOME captain and will take me on the ride of my life. If you don't know Him personally, then it makes sense that you'd be anxious to be on a cruise ship and not know where it's going. I hope you get to know Him personally if you don't already. He's a great guy and only wants the best for you.

Any illustration like this will have its shortfalls, and I don't pretend that this one is perfect. But if it helps you as you ponder where you're going in life, then my purpose with this blog has been fulfilled. Thanks for reading, and please comment if you have a moment!

Celebrating... winter?

Woohoo! The snowpack is melting, the snowpack is melting! The air feels so balmy, I almost want to go out without a coat. Almost. I did leave my gloves off, though.

This really late January thaw is a welcome relief from the frigidness of late. But even as I celebrate and feel the hope that spring is just around the corner, I know Minnesota well enough to clamp down on my enthusiasm and temper it with cynicism. March is around the corner, and all good Minnesotans know that it's the snowiest month of the year.

I love how some optimistic (and apparently really hot-blooded) crazies decide that just because it's warmer outside than it was a few days ago, they can go outside in a t-shirt and shorts. But going from 32 below to 48 above doesn't qualify as that much of a heat wave to me, even though it's 80 degrees difference. That's just me, though.

I was never a native-born Minnesotan. These are a special type of people... anti-freeze flows in their veins. The mental toughness it takes to make it through 6 (at least) months of winter creates strong, able-bodied characters who can stare a blizzard in the face and laugh while they stock up their freezers (which are in the garage, along with the extra fridge) and batten down the hatches.

An inch of snow can bring the great state of Texas to its knees, and Minnesotans (because they're nice) will offer words of condolence and smiles of sympathy. Meanwhile, we jump in frozen lakes (after we cut a hole in top...sometimes) for fundraisers or just for the heck of it. When the ice gets too thin to walk on and we want to get some more ice fishing in, we drag canoes out on it "in case" we break through.

Speaking of ice fishing, we create whole cities of fish houses on larger lakes, with street names, and snowplowing services. Some of the fish houses are nicer than many double wide trailer homes. This is fishing where you drill some holes in the ice and wait for the fish to swim by and take your bait (for those of you who live where the lakes don't freeze and are envisioning catching chunks of ice).

Now I know most of you reading this are Minnesotans, so this is nothing new to you. But it is a different way of life, and most of us embrace it. What else can you do with 6 months of winter?

The great part about this state, this country... and the world in general, is the differences. We can celebrate how we do things differently! Some of you, after reading this post, may be thinking, "Thank heavens I don't live in Minnesota!" (heck, I thought that when we were living in Trinidad. That was then, and this is now).

I started with this post celebrating the spring-like weather, and end it with celebrating the uniqueness of Minnesotans and our devastating, incredible, lengthy, and character-building winters. When it comes down to it, loving where you're at is the ultimate in contentedness, which brings peace. Minnesotans have made "loving where you're at" an art form. I can respect that, and enjoy this thaw even knowing that March is around the corner.

P.S. What's your favorite winter activity? I need to go downhill skiing before spring gets here!

The challenge of parenting teens

I don't know what it is about teenagers, but life with a challenging one can be nearly impossibly stressful. We only have two in our house for now, but it's interesting, to say the least.

First, I have to confess that our problems compared to others may seem small or even trivial, when you think of the drugs, alcohol, violence, gang activities, and who know what else is out there for teens. So let's get that clear to begin.

But as we transition from young boys to young teens, life is changing. Now I long for the days when the most I worried about was feeding them nutritious meals or cleaning up after bath time. Life was much less complicated. Very BUSY, but less complicated.

I miss the cuddling and sweet, sticky kisses of my chubby faced, ham-fisted little stinkers. I do still remember how much less sleep I got when they were babies, and the seemingly endless diaper changes, but it's all fading into the rosy mist that parents of teens like to revisit when their teen is being impossible.

It was easier being a parent then because you were in charge, completely, of these little ones. They depended on you to feed them, clothe them, bring them places, and show them how life works. They were completely dependent on you, and they LIKED it that way, because that was the only way they knew the world.

For some parents, that started changing when the kids hit the terrible twos. My boys were pretty easy, even their terrible twos, and I can't even say it was because of what we did as parents (it may have helped, but only God knows how much it helped!). I think they were pretty easy-going kids, although it may be that rosy mist interfering again.

But BAM, middle school (and now high school) began, and life changed. Suddenly we are faced with multiple teachers, horrendous peers and the pressure they bring, homework that requires organization and diligence, and worst of all, the ATTITUDE that parents are hopeless, useless, and not worthy of respect. It's that attitude that chaps my hide the most.

I know, "all teens" go through this attitude phase (and I'm praying it's just a phase and will go away, hopefully before they turn 40), and I even remember reading articles about teens when I was a teen, but apparently it didn't sink in -- I still had an attitude when I was a teen. I'm not proud of it, but I'd like to think it didn't last until I turned 40.

I do really appreciate my parents now, and try to let them know it as often as I can. And apologize when I think about it. Mom, Dad, you can chime in any time and let everyone know how I did as a teen. I can take it, honest. Love you!

Anyway, my teens are testing my sanity regularly. The really hard part about it all is this thought: "Am I doing the right thing for them?" There are so many paths you could take in disciplining a teen, so many different ways of dealing with them... the mental strength it takes to think about all the ways gives me a splitting headache. It doesn't always help when you read articles that give you tips on "how to handle your teen" because that's just another way to do things.

I'm not talking about principles of parenting like being consistent, or showing a united front. That's all fine and great, and we've read innumerable articles/books on these principles. I try to follow biblical principles when it comes to parenting, and the wonderful, sweeping statements like following the Golden Rule or the Greatest Commandment are fantastic principles.

But when it comes down to the rubber meeting the road, when your teen is sitting next to you, and you're trying to help him do his math homework, and he doesn't want to because he's spent all afternoon goofing around and now he wants to watch TV for two hours but can't because he's doing homework with his nagging mom, it just takes too much time to think of how to apply the Golden Rule.

Faced with "the attitude" at that kitchen table, I could only think of removing it from my presence. So I sent the attitude up to his room. How many different ways could I have handled that better? SO MANY WAYS. But thinking about them all induces that splitting headache mentioned above.

I'd like to think that I'm a good parent, but these teen years often have me feeling like the biggest failure ever. Maybe it's not about making mistakes, but in acknowledging them and admitting that it could have been done better, to yourself and to your teen.

My favorite verse of the bible is "Be completely humble and gentle, be patient, bearing with one another in love" (Ephesians 4:2) which is in line with the Golden Rule. Being a Christian is "easy" because "all" we have to do is be like Christ and love God with all our hearts, souls, and minds (the Greatest Commandment).

It's easy, but when the rubber meets the road, only God can give us the strength and wisdom to do the right thing, whether it's before we make our mistake, or after. Sometimes, parents don't know this is an option, and while it doesn't necessarily make parenting teens any easier, it helps with the peace of mind (and the splitting headache).

I know what I should do with my recalcitrant teen now, and my own recalcitrant heart. Do you have teens or older? What advice would you give me?

The unspoken rules of Trini driving

It feels nice to sit in our lower level and still have feeling in my fingers after an hour or so. Our computer sits in front of an easement window (one of those underground ones) and the cold air used to flow right down from the window onto my right hand as it held the mouse. Brrrr!

What makes this so hard is the fact that it's just been over a week since our return from Trinidad, the blessed Caribbean island we try to visit as often as we can. The weather there in January is absolutely fabulous... lower humidity, less rain, cooler temps (if you call 80s cooler), and lovely greenery everywhere.

But I can't write about Minnesota weather, it just makes me too depressed. So I'll write about driving in Trinidad!

I rented a car in Trinidad for three days, and it was just like riding a bike.... In fact, I drove up to popular Maracas Bay the Monday before we left, which goes through a very busy city, plus winding mountain roads. Brian drove another carload of friends separately. I drove with a couple of American friends (relatives of our Trini friends) -- who were unfamiliar with the Trini style of driving -- and a couple of our Trini friends were with me, too (this is important to know).

To those of you wondering why driving in Trinidad is like riding a bike, they drive on the left side of the road. I had to remember not to swerve into the right lane on two-lane roads. It was actually easy to remember because I'd only ever driven on the left side in Trinidad (with the exception of my first two months living there, when I'd occasionally try to drive on the right, to my - and the other drivers' - everlasting regret) and it became familiar much more quickly this time around.

So one of our American friends got to ride in the front seat -- not a good idea for a Trini-driving newbie. I looked over at one point and she was clutching the shoulder strap of her seatbelt with both hands, scrunched down in her seat as far as she could go, with a look of terror on her face. I wanted to tell her to relax and look out the window and enjoy the scenery, but I didn't think she'd take it too well at the moment.

This was right after "the incident" where she yelled out, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? That truck is going to hit us!!!"

Let me explain one of the unspoken rules of Trini driving... when two vehicles headed toward each other come upon a car parked on the side of a narrow road (doesn't matter which side), the FASTER vehicle has the right of way, and the other vehicle pulls over to make room. Once you slow down, you forfeit your right to pass first, and then you have to wait. Every Trini driver knows this. Non-Trini drivers don't know this, so they get to learn the hard way, usually by waiting until everyone else has passed through.

So, being a Trini driver, I passed the parked car first, knowing the truck would stop. In fact, I said (in what I thought was a reassuring tone), "No, no, don't worry, he'll stop."

To which she replied (not reassured), "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'HE'LL STOP'?!"

And then we had to go over the rules with her. Fortunately, those other Trini drivers in the car were able to back me up on this, although they'd never thought of the rule as being "the faster vehicle has the right of way" because it was an unspoken rule. I guess I have a knack for verbalizing them. In fact, I think that rule just about sums up all of the unspoken driving rules.

Anyway, I apologize again, Maria, for that stressful drive through San Juan to Maracas Bay. Hope you can forgive me sometime in the next decade. Just kidding! We had a great time at the beach once she realized I wasn't some crackpot who never took Trini driving lessons. Wait, I never took... oh, never mind.

This whole incident reminds me of how we sometimes sit in the passenger seat of life and nervously watch the Lord driving us (if we even allow Him to take the wheel, that is), and question what He's doing, or even where He's taking us. We are stressed out, clinging to things that give us security and terrified of what's coming at us.

But if we listen hard, we can hear Him saying, "Don't worry. I've got it under control. Look out the window and enjoy the ride, and know that I'll get you there safely. Trust me." So we breathe deeply, look around and see the beauty around us, and we can enjoy it, because we know that our Driver is completely trustworthy.

Who's driving your life, and if you're not driving, have you been able to let go and appreciate the scenery?

Between rest and atrophy

Ahhh, the quiet days of January are here.  No major holidays coming anytime soon, no frantic looking about for gifts, no parties to plan.  I never thought I'd say this, but I find myself enjoying this time of year more and more as I get older.

It used to be the dreaded time between holidays, when cabin fever sets in and families begin devouring each other because of the constant close quarters.  Cabin fever is more of a threat in the cold and snowy midwest than you who live further south, where the sun doesn't abandon you for months at a time.  Yes, we see the sun, but it doesn't do us any good.

Maybe it's because I work during the busy Christmas season and then it's all over on Christmas Eve (thank heavens).  But this has become a time of recuperation for me, and I need it more each year.  We all need times of rest and "re-setting" so that we don't burn ourselves out... sometimes taking others with us on the long fall into chaos.

A few years ago, I was constantly on a search for "rest," not realizing that rest doesn't come to you like a puppy in need of affection.  Real rest to me is more a state of contentment, no matter what your situation.  I like the poem "If" by Rudyard Kipling, the first line of which reads:

"If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you...."


While it's good to maintain a level head in times of high stress, it's good to be away from that stress at times, too.  I guess I'm still working on what the word "rest" involves, because I haven't reached it yet.  I know a nice vacation in a tropical area with lots of flowers and room service would be a pretty good rest for me, even with all three boys along.

By the way, Kipling's poem ends after four stanzas of "Ifs" and ends with this:

"... you'll be a man, my son!"


That line has never resonated with me, for some reason (maybe because I'm not a man). But I've tried posting this where my sons can read it, and I can only hope they read it and learn from it.

Webster defines "rest" as "peace of mind or spirit."  That seems about right, when it comes to contentedness.  It also gives "freedom from activity or labor" as well as "a place for resting or lodging," so that tropical vacation really fits the bill....  This is good, as Brian and I will be heading to Trinidad in three days to attend a wedding next Saturday.  Can't wait, even though I know there won't be any room service (we're staying with friends), which I can definitely handle.

Another definition, and this is one that I really like and strive for: "free of anxiety."  This is one that I can absolutely be in charge of, because worrying is a choice.  The greatest example of humanity said it best: "Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?"  Luke 12:22-34 is a fabulous passage on the foolishness of worrying... and what we should strive for instead.

Unfortunately, too much rest can result in one last Webster definition: "a state of motionlessness or inactivity" or "the repose of death."  When we take rest too far, we atrophy and become smaller (at least our muscles do; the fat just stays and stays).  Our expectations of ourselves dwindle, and soon, we feel unable to accomplish anything, and wonder why we feel trapped.

I've been there.  It's a choice that's been made... not to make more choices.  I wonder if that's how a lot of people just lose their purpose for living after retirement.  Their world gets smaller and smaller, until the house and maybe grocery store are the extent of their travels.  And then the ability to drive goes away or gets taken away, and the living room, bedroom, and kitchen are the world.  Finally, just the bed, and staring at the ceiling, waiting for someone to take care of you.

That doesn't have to be my future.  But maybe it is, and I have to find peace and rest within that.  Maybe that's the blessing of getting older -- finding that contentment doesn't mean a tropical vacation.  The contentment in knowing that your future home is going to be awesome, and while your time in this world is running out, you can impart some of your wisdom with the younger set and tell them stories of what life was like back in the day.

Somehow, my blog was hijacked.  But that's the adventure in blogging, going where the Spirit leads.  But I urge you, as I urge myself, to find the balance between rest and atrophy in this season of quietness.  Live life fully as you recuperate from the holidays, and appreciate the downtime.

If you're not in a time of recuperation, then... so sorry!  Hope you find it soon if you need it.

What's your definition of rest, and have you been getting it?

NO resolutions! Just baby steps....

A new year beginning... a fresh slate, a clean calendar, a new outlook.  At least that's what everyone tells us.  To me, January 1st is often just like any other day (besides the fact that it's my birthday), with the exception that yes, we do start with a new calendar.

I don't do the "New Year's Resolution," at least not the capitalized version.  I've found that resolutions made in one day often don't stick around past the end of the month.  A friend of mine makes a list of goals to be accomplished, which is helpful if you keep that list in front of you and then review it at the end of the year to see what's been ticked off (besides the people you normally tick off.  Ha.).  I would most likely forget to keep the list in view, and then lose it somewhere around April.

A far better way for me is to add little habits to my daily life.  One little baby step at a time, to make changes that ultimately amount to quite a lot.

On New Year's Eve, my dear sis-in-law Michelle and I were working on a Thomas Kinkaid 1000 piece puzzle that was beautiful but so darn frustrating to put together ("oh look, a pink flower..." "there are 4 spots with pink flowers, choose one" "oh look, some blue wavy bits...." "AUGH!").  My second son came by, took one look at our lack of progress and said, "good... work."  And then with a sly smile, sidled away, only to come back a few minutes later with another similarly unencouraging word.

After a couple minutes of this, Michelle said, "My, you are a patient mom" (because I had not whacked him upside the head yet).  I serenely smiled and said, "God knew that I needed work in the patience area; that's why he gave me son #2."  Those of you who truly know me can now sit back up and wipe the tears out of your eyes, but that is God's truth.  If it weren't for my children, especially #2, I would definitely be a different person.

All this to say that one of the things I've been working on is controlling my tongue (I know, baby steps).  Impatience often comes about from lack of control in that area.  That's how we let people know that they are WASTING OUR TIME.  But when we control our tongues, we can stop and think about what we are really thinking and how we really want to treat people.

I work on it, consciously, conscientiously, almost every day.  And it's a battle!  I have to think of when I am being or feeling impatient, then I have to arrest the words on the tip of my tongue, and THEN, if I've still got enough strength, I think of something encouraging or nice to say instead.  I KNOW!  Lots of work, and I don't get it right every time, as all of you can attest.

I also work on communicating with my sons and husband.  Never been very good at this, even though I can be voluminously voluble (ha!) at times, especially when I've had a lot of chocolate or caffeine (and watch out if it's both).

But these kinds of battles aren't a once-at-the-beginning-of-the-year-and-then-forget-about-it thing.  They are lifelong, and we never finish.  Kind of like housework, only more important.  So instead of trying a "resolution" on January 1st, try a baby step.  And work on it, little by little every day, not just until December 31, but for the rest of your life.  Your family will thank you, and you'll be closer to the only perfect example we've ever had.

What's your baby step for the betterment of the rest of your life?