Praising in the Storm

Two and a half weeks ago, the Engineer spent four days and three nights in the hospital.  Starting on Monday, and ending on Thursday.  It took a couple of days to figure out what was wrong with him.

It started off with a fear of meningitis.  Then, tuberculosis.  The first was quickly ruled out (praise God!).  The second took a little longer...

Wonderful friends took the girls Monday evening (and then again all day Tuesday).  Monday night, I picked up my precious three girlies and was driving home.  I found myself singing.  Softly, almost without thought.

The Cowgirl asked me what I was singing.  So I sang louder.  I sang hymns.  The hymns that contain so very much rich theology.  The hymns that have helped inform my faith.  Hymns by men and women that have loved the Lord, clung to Him through adversity, the likes of which I may never face.  Hymns that stuck in my ears and in my heart.

I found myself, not just clinging to God, but praising Him.  Praising Him for who He is, for how He has gone before.  Through these timeless words penned centuries ago.  Words and melodies that link me to believers long dead, believers that have walked this path before me.  Not just to the hymn-writers, but to the centuries of hymn-singers, as well.  Fellow worshipers who have gone to these same hymns countless times, through adversity, and pain, and plenty, and mountaintops.

And this is why I mourn the loss of hymns in the church.  That link to the past, that theology learned through the music of the saints long past.  The idea that "if others can do this, so can I" that comes almost unconsciously.

Modern music is missing that -- that link to the saints.  It's not long-lasting.  No one in a hundred years will be singing the "praise music" we sing today.  I fear the push to make us "relevant" has made us merely worldly.  Instead of being truly different, truly timeless, we have settled for "cool" and "hip," both concepts that are bound, by definition, to time.

When nothing is different from what folks can find in the gym, or the country club, or even the casino, why would they choose the church? 

When my children go through hard times, will they sing the songs they hear now, ones long out of fashion by then?  Will they go to songs that are in vogue at that time?  Or will the long for something more -- something deeper, something that speaks of saints before clinging to God and the cross?  Will they long for a link to men and women with stories of perseverance through the unthinkable, of a God bigger than all of this life?  And more importantly, will they find that link?  Will it still be there?

Nice, or Kind?

I very much dislike the word "nice."  It brings forth images of people with no real life in them.  No opinions, no truth, no ideas.  I believe it's the foundation of Political Correctness, of "Your Truth" and "My Truth."

Kindness, however, is a part of the fruit of the Spirit.  Kindness is sometimes not at all "nice".  It sometimes requires hurting someone's feelings when there's been a wrong done.  Kindness steps on toes, extends grace, and comes from a heart of obedience to God.

Niceness is a self-centered plea along the lines of, "Everyone, please like me!"

Kindness does not care about being liked, but simply desires what is truly best for another person.

Kindness often involves hard conversations and awkward silences, allowing the other person space, and the Holy Spirit time to work.

Kindness is what drives me, as mom, to expect obedience from my children.  It is what pushes me to raise the standard high for them, to push them to try and not give up.  Kindness is what impels me to speak the truth lovingly to my children when they are in the wrong.  It is the same thing that protects them when others would harm them.

"Nice" is not what I expect of my children.  "Kind" most definitely is.

In the Wilderness

In the life of every homeschool family with more than one child, there is a day -- a day where the children bicker, where the end of mama's patience has been reached, where grace is needed more than ever, but it seems that there is less than ever to give.  When obedience is just a pipe dream, and mama begins to question her calling to this journey.

We typically call that day Wednesday.  At least so far this year, Wednesdays have been our wilderness.  They seem to last from the dawn of time until eternity, and every. last. minute. seems to be wrought with trouble.

I don't have any easy solutions.  No steps to stop sibling strife, or fool-proof ways to teach absolute obedience, or even just ways to make it through the day without major tears.  None.  And really, even if I did, it would only be management tools.

Because at the end of the day, the trouble is the heart.  And I cannot change their little hearts.  I cannot change my OWN heart.  I can only point them (and me) to the One Who Changes Hearts.  I can fix my heart on His, and pray that will spill over into my family, into our Wednesday wilderness.

I am not saying that managing behavior is unimportant, just that it isn't the main thing.  The main thing is the gospel.  Pointing little hearts to the One who can change them, mold them into His image. 

In the end, I pray that through all of this, my girls hear, see, taste, touch, and smell the gospel each day.  And when I fail (and I will, more than I will succeed), I pray that they can see true repentance and grace lived in a fallen world, with frail and imperfect people.

You see, we're all the same -- my children, me, you, your neighbors, their kids (and yours, too!) -- we're all sinners in desperate need of a Savior.  And pointing each other to Him is the most loving and kind thing we can do.

What if...

          The first question of the Westminster Shorter Catechism is "What is the chief end of man?"  The answer -- "Man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever." 

          What if that became our prayer, that we glorify God and enjoy Him -- now, tomorrow, next week, while we're still here?  I don't believe that just because it's the end that it cannot also be the now.

          What if, instead of focusing on all those other things -- things that divide us, like clothes, food, child-rearing, family size, schooling method, and so forth -- we focused on teaching our children, teens, and even fellow adults to seek to "glorify God and enjoy Him" now.  Instead of chasing the latest "Christian" fad (or anti-fad), what if we used the timeless standard of Scripture to encourage one another to do what Christians have been striving to do for two millennia? 

          What if, instead of looking cross-eyed at each other because Christ has called and equipped us as different parts of the same body, we allowed that to be the means of glorifying Him and enjoying Him?  What if, in disagreements over opinion, we encouraged each other the glorify and enjoy God right now, right here in spite of -- and because of -- our differences?

          How could God change us if we focused on glorifying and enjoying Him?  Too many of us either glorify self, or fail to enjoy God, or (in my case) both.

          So, it is my prayer that I begin to glorify God and enjoy Him daily.  I will fail.  I will get discouraged.  I will not "feel" like doing it.  But, with God's help, I will glorify and enjoy Him while in the here and now.  For that is where true joy is found.

Tough Week, and Random Thoughts

It's been a tough week this week.  The Engineer has been in the hospital, and that means juggling the girls, hospital visits, updating family and friends (our family is all "away" from us), and trying to fit in school and housework.  Plus sleep...  So, forgive me if I'm a bit incoherent.

First of all, I have never been more thankful for my own mother!  When we were little, she let us "help" whenever we asked.  Even if that meant our "help" doubled or tripled her workload.  Why am I thankful?  Because her example has led me to do the same for my girls.  From the time they could say, "I hep, peese?"  I let them.  And this week, it has paid off in spades!  All those hours of letting tiny-littles load and unload dryers at a snail's pace, clean the lint trap, load and "unload" the dishwasher, fold washcloths, etc., have been time well spent:
The Doctor and the Cowgirl can run laundry from start to finish all by themselves.  Fidget cleans the lint trap like a pro.  While they haven't actually had to do all the laundry this week, it is such a blessing to be able to ask them to switch over a load, start a load, and empty the dryer, and know it will be done well and thoroughly.
The Doctor and the Cowgirl can do a load of dishes from loading to unloading.  Even Fidget can load her dishes, add soap, and start the washer.
The Doctor and the Cowgirl can clean a bathroom.  Without oversight.  It's not "white glove" clean, but certainly clean enough for company.
During a week of turmoil, this is a major blessing.  From my mom to me, many years later.  And I am grateful.

Another random thought -- night nurses are my new heroes.  They look after people at their most vulnerable -- sick and at night.  Any mom knows that nighttime is when illness gets worse, sometimes much worse.  These ladies and gentlemen perform many thankless and undesirable tasks day in, day out.  And generally, the only time they hear anything is when there's a complaint.  Yet, they keep working.  And I am grateful.

Those are my random (semi-coherent) thoughts for today.

The Other Side of Boredom

          It seems like everywhere I look, someone is pinning or posting or blogging about boredom and children, with titles similar to "27 Activities Guaranteed to Beat Boredom!" or "101 Boredom-Busters to Help Your Kids Have the Most Fun This Summer!" or "Be the Coolest Mom EVER!  Tips to Keep Boredom at Bay This Summer."  (Note: none of these are actual titles.  I just made them up based on pins and blogs and posts I've seen.  Though, some titles really are that silly!)  This is my response to that whole category... 

          Here's how the conversation has gone in our house a few times per child, usually sometime between their 4th and 6th birthday:

          Child:  "Mama, I'm BOOOOOOORED." (glassy eyed stare)

          Me: "Boredom is good for you." (unblinking stare, and silence)

          It usually only takes a half-dozen or so times for them to learn that their boredom is not my problem, and they stop.  If this happens again when they are older, I will quote the saying, "only the boring get bored" or maybe find another such quote for them then. 

          Why do I believe that boredom is "good" for them?  It's what I have seen that lies on the other side of that boredom. 

          Boredom is the monster lurking at the end of entertainment.  It's the sneaky swamp-thing that lies at the end of the movie, or the dull nothing at the end of a book.  It's that beast that dulls the mind after a party or outing or field trip.  I have found that boredom most often comes when I am left to my own devices to come up with something to occupy my time and thoughts. 

          But at the other end of boredom, when I have faced that monster, that swamp-thing, that nothing, is my creativity, my imagination, my best and brightest self.  The overcoming of boredom, if channeled well, is beauty, and creation, and fun!  If not channeled well, this can become destructive, ugly, and mean.  I must choose, and choose well! 

          Mastering boredom helps my children exercise their imaginations, to test what they are capable of, to see the beauty of their own imagination.  I have watched them make toys from paper and tape, read books that challenged their reading level, create their own games, turn sticks into ninja swords (then run across the yard, brandishing their ninja swords at imaginary enemies), and many other things.  All because of boredom that was channeled or staved off because of active imaginations. 

          If I had chosen to entertain them instead, none of these things would have happened.  And, knowing my children, the entertainment would have ended, leaving a vacuum (boredom!) that had to be filled time and time again.  It becomes an endless spiral.  For my girls (and I suspect, most children), the more "entertainment" given to them, the quicker the boredom sets in.  When largely left to do their own entertaining, I seldom hear "I'm bored!"  (Almost never, in fact.) 

          I guess I need to remind myself of this, under the relentless pressure to prove I'm a "good mommy" by endlessly entertaining my children, or providing them expensive and electronic means to entertain them.  As I see pin after pin or read blog after blog or FB share after FB share of what "good mommies" are doing to entertain their children, I often wonder if I am messing up.  Then I look outside and see my dirt-covered children smiling and laughing in the back yard, making up their own games and feeding crickets to the chickens.  And I realize I'm not.  I realize I don't actually feel the conviction do be doing these things, just the "mom-guilt" because I'm comparing myself to others.  I'm picking that burden back up, one I'm not meant to carry.

A Week at Home

We sold one home and bought a new one in January.  The home we bought didn't have evaporative coolers or air conditioning.  (Known out here as "swamp coolers" or "refrigerated air" respectively.)  So, this week, we've been having swamp coolers installed.  Yes, two of them, because of the layout of the house.

This has forced me to stay home this week.  We have to let the men in and out of the house, as well as put the dog up while they're here.  The exception was Tuesday, when the girls had violin and cello lessons.  But, the contractors had a previous engagement that day, anyway!

As I sit here, the girls are playing in the yard, coming in and out on a relatively cool morning. 
We've played with kinetic sand (one of Fidget's birthday presents), and discovered that it's sand and silly putty, according to one website. (Here)  We've decided to buy some sand and silly putty and try to make it.  (Once we can leave the house, that is!)  Maybe I'll take pictures and post them here.
We've played Just Dance Disney, and learned that the Cowgirl dances circles around all of us.
The girls had a "sister sleepover" (read: they all slept in one sister's room), and have begged for another.
We've done minimal chores, and just enjoyed the time together.
The Cowgirl has been reading Black Beauty for the last couple of days.  She rarely puts it down, even to eat.
Last night, we let them stay up late and watch The Lego Movie.
This morning, we watched YouTube videos of bagpipes.  Why?  Because the girls had never seen bagpipes before, and their cello teacher had asked them if they had.  Being curious children, they wanted to see and hear bagpipes.  They learned they like bagpipe music.  With their family tree, that's a good thing!  (The Engineer has neckties in the family plaid.)

In short, the girls have had the kind of week that should be every kid's summer -- bubbles, and squirt guns, and mud pies, and books, and laughter.  No real structure, no real agenda.  Lots of time to be "bored" and discover what lies at the other end of that boredom.

I'm looking out the window, and I see Fidget with a blanket tied on, cape-style, tail dragging the ground.  Probably, she's some kind of princess or queen.  Most likely, Frozen related.  How she isn't hot, I'll never know.  But I do know her hands are covered in mud, her face dirty.

I can hear the Cowgirl, turning pages on her book and occasionally commenting on the pretend going on around her.

I would love to bottle these days, to save them for the dead of winter when the days cold and short, and so is patience.  I would open the bottle, let in the sunshine and fresh air, the laughter and laziness, the boredom and what lies on the other side of that boredom.

All-in-all, it's been a good week.  A week of "yeses" said because there was nowhere we had to go.