Let’s start with an obvious fact: You are bombarded by messages all the time.

This blog is a message. The text you just got was a message. Your neighbor’s crazed rant about car seats is a message. Every book, magazine article, video clip, song, television episode, political soundbite, sermon, telephone conversation, and email is a message. They are everywhere. They bombard you through the radio, the internet, the people you work with, the culture we live in. Your kids will be assaulted by them all day long. 

And every message has a goal. They are designed to influence you. They attempt to convince you of something, ask a question (or pose an answer), start a debate, or silence an opponent. Most of the time, the specific goal is not obvious. But it is still there. And it is up to you to ensure that you and your family are equipped to respond to them.

So where should we start?

That’s the question I faced before my first Composition class. I had free reign to design the class however I wanted…and absolutely no idea where to go. So I asked a different question: where do I want to end up? And that question was much easier to answer:

• I wanted to create a class that wasn’t as boring and irrelevant as Comp was when I took it.
• I wanted to give the students tools to assess and respond to the messages they received every day.
• I wanted my students to understand WHY they should assess and respond to those messages.

Basically, I wanted to give them a crash-course in thinking, and I called it “turning your brains on.”

My stint on the college debate team and my Masters program in theatre at Ohio State had taught me that thinking was one of the most fundamental skills my students needed to be successful in the world they would enter after graduation. And for Christians, it was even more significant. No matter your stage of life: college, empty-nester, single adult, teenager, mom or dad of young kids…this world needs you to think well. The people out there will not be argued into faith in Jesus, but they will never listen to you about what really matters if they don’t respect how you interact with them, ideas, and the world at large in the “normal” things.

The world needs Christians who are not backward thinkers, who are not blind followers who spout cliches or twist information to preconceived conclusions. They need us to tell them the Truth, even though they won’t like it. They need us to stop assuming that every pastor is preaching God’s truth, just because he’s got a Bible open in front of him on Sunday morning. They need us to actively and intentionally develop a habit of using the brains God gave us!

We cannot avoid the messages, but we can choose not to mindlessly absorb them. We can refuse to be easily swayed by smooth speakers, cutting-edge technology or a flashy stage presence and start standing firm against the messages subtly trying to influence us and our kids. And we can teach our kids to do the same.

But…how do we do that? And how do we teach this concept to our kids? You’ll be surprised how simple it actually is. 

The secret to training your mind, to developing critical thinking skills, to interacting with ideas and messages and stories and people instead of just absorbing everything that comes your way, can be summed up in two words:

ASK QUESTIONS 

Really…it’s that simple.

Think about a child learning reading comprehension skills (my sister does this as her job…yeah, she’s awesome). Some students can read the words exactly right, but they have no idea what they read. So to help them comprehend, they (or their parents) have to ask questions about what they read or watch.

• What did (that character) do?
• Is (that character) happy or sad…how can you tell?
• Boy that character looks angry (or sad, happy, confused, etc)…why do they look that way?
• Have you ever done anything like (what happened in the story)?

They aren’t hard questions. They aren’t trick questions. They’re simple questions that encourage the child to recognize events, draw conclusions, make personal connections, and pay attention to what they are watching or reading. And it works for any arena where you want to practice thinking skills. 

If you want to turn your brain on, start asking questions. Questions like…

1. WHY?

This question digs for what’s behind a claim. Someone wants you to buy a certain brand of shoe…ask them WHY. You’re told to read your Bible, give to a charity, stop do this, start doing that…ask WHY. Culture (songs, videos, podcasts, whatever) tells us that freedom should be our goal and no one has the “right” to restrict what we want to do…ask WHY. Demand answers. Demand to know what’s behind the flashy video presentation or the sexy advertisement. Is this thing really better for you or do they want you do believe them, buy something, do something because it’s good for them? ASK WHY.

2. HOW DO YOU KNOW?

People can give great reasons, but have supremely bad support for them, and this question helps uncover that problem. Someone recommends the best way to do something (clean your house, feed your kids, save for the future, interact with your husband, etc)…ask HOW THEY KNOW? Did they study it? Did they read studies about it? Did they try it out for themselves? Some poll says 45% of people do x or y…HOW DO THEY KNOW? Don’t take people at their word, no matter how well-intentioned they are. Pastors tell you to give or do or live a certain way…HOW DO THEY KNOW? Can they show you Biblical support? This question considers the foundations of a claim. Don’t accept conclusions…find out how the speaker got there.

Choose to ask questions. At first, it will feel awkward. This is a skill to practice like playing the piano or learning a new golf swing. And it isn’t normal. Most people don’t do it. Your kids will not think it’s cool when you start asking questions about the shows they love watching. In our culture, most people want you to consume, not think. They want you to let “them” do your thinking for you. Don’t fall into this trap.

We have to turn our brains on. Ask questions. Demand answers. Encourage your kids to do the same thing. It can make all the difference in the world.  

Most of the people that I hang out with these days are moms of young children. I probably need to work harder at connecting with people in other life stages, but that’s a topic for another post.

 I used to spend a good bit of time with college freshmen. I taught composition and grammar for seven years, and for the most part, I loved it. Freshmen are a crazy bunch, but they are fun incarnate. And as part of their first giant step into adulthood, it was an incredible opportunity and responsibility.

My teaching style was kind of crazy (I talk fast, think fast, move fast, teach fast). I worked hard to be “fun” and still cover my intended topics. We played games and watched movie clips. I let them write papers on almost any topic. I admitted freely that my class was boring, but I tried equally as hard to prove that it was valuable to their future success.

And I did that through what I called my “soapboxes” – the big ideas I wanted them to get, even if they still couldn’t write a paper at the end of the semester. These were my soapboxes: 

Turn your brain on. I challenged them to THINK. God calls us to love Him with our minds, and that means our minds are valuable and necessary tools for interacting with Him and with the world around us. We will always be surrounded by conversations and debates and “pick a side” discussions, and rather than avoid them, we need to bring the Spirit with us into those arenas. We are also constantly inundated with messages, very few of them biblical, and we need Him to give us clarity and wisdom about what we listen to or read or watch. As believers, our faith needs to make our minds stronger, not weaker – should make us better thinkers, not worse.

Be humbly certain of what you believe. I told my student that there are absolutes, things like the deity of Christ that are truths worth dying for. But outside of those handful of absolutes, there are thousands and thousands of ideas and arguments and beliefs to which we don’t know the complete “right” answer. And in those cases, I wanted them to be “humbly certain.” Certain enough that you are willing to argue about it, but humble enough to allow for the possibility that you might be wrong. In other words, think through what you believe, research it, know it, be able to defend it and then share those beliefs but with humility. We have to honestly consider the possibility that we might not have all the information, that there might be more to the issue than we’ve considered. Being “humbly certain” is an attitude that says “I know what I believe, but I will give you a chance to prove me wrong.” And while our opponents will rarely offer a true challenge, we, as finite beings, have to leave open the possibility that we are not always totally right.

Learn to make a good argument. Most people do not argue well. They throw a bunch of ideas together and act like that should convince even the worst sceptic. They have zero logic (or very bad logic) holding together their ideas, and they wonder why people won’t take them seriously. Christians wonder why non-Christians just roll their eyes when they stand up to “make a case” for the topic of the hour. It’s because they can’t argue. And it is not acceptable. We must learn to present what we think well, with good logic and excellent support. And if we can learn to do this, we will quickly move to a position of influence wherever we are. We can actually become the ones whom other people follow because we think and express ourselves well.

Learn to Research Well. Your positions are only as good as the information you use to defend and support them. But most people research as poorly as they argue. We have to know where to get information and then, having found it, how to analyze it. A valuable principle to keep in mind: people are always innocent until proved guilty, but information has to be suspect until proven trustworthy.

And here’s the thing…I’ve been thinking recently how much those soapboxes still apply, even to my current life and the people I know.

I always told my freshmen that they needed to know what they believed and learn how to defend those ideas well. But as moms, we have an even greater responsibility because our ideas and choices and ways of living will have direct influence on our kids and the generation of which they are a part. We have to make our decisions with even greater care, and I wonder how many women are lacking the necessary tools to do this well.  

So I’m going to do my very first blog “series” on this topic. I’ve never done anything like this before, but it’s been brewing in my mind for weeks, and I can’t stop myself now. So here’s the plan – I’m going to go through my soapboxes, one at a time, applying them to moms. How can we use these ideas to figure out what we think and make wise decisions for ourselves and our families? How should we go about getting information for the decisions we are trying to make? And how do we discuss our conclusions without every conversation dissolving into “the mommy wars” again? This is not about the conclusions we come to, it’s about how we get to our conclusions (and how to get there better than we do now).

I hope someone other than me finds these ideas interesting and useful. But if this stuff doesn’t mean anything to you, that’s okay…I’ll write updates about my kids (and my dishwasher) again soon. This area is just very dear to my heart, and I consider it one of the few things I have to offer that very few other can.

So…here comes Soapbox #1!

It started at breakfast.

After consuming two bowls of cereal (and working on a bowl of yogurt), Alex announces randomly that he “will throw up again.” Yes, dear boy. It will most likely happen again. “No, I will throw up soon,” he says. Well, I say, I doubt soon is an accurate assessment. “No,” he assures me, “I will throw up tomorrow.” At which point, Erin pipes up, “And I will throw up on Sunday…and Megan can on Monday.” Yes…I see…well, thanks for the heads-up everybody.

And I think to myself…this could be an interesting day. I had no idea.

Megan, Alex and I all have the same cold. It’s not a pleasant one. I haven’t tasted my food in days from the stuffy nose, and the coughing is no fun either. Oh…and it’s making my voice sound funny. Which Erin pointed out during breakfast. Yes, I say, I have what they call a frog in my throat. I should have known better because she spent the rest of the morning wanting to randomly look in my throat for my frog. Even after I explained that it’s not a real frog, I just meant Mommy sounds like a frog…no, she’s still certain that a small green thing will be popping out of my mouth at any moment. Oh, and now she’s got one, too. 

So anyway, we make it to Meijer to buy a few sickness related things (a second vaporizer, for instance, since the two kids who need one sleep in separate rooms, and more tissues). They did great. I even pick up some donuts for our snack as a treat (and because I don’t have much else for snack to give them right now). 

We get home, eat our snack, and I sent them out back to play while I did some cleaning in the kitchen (windows open so I could hear them/keep an eye on them). Oh wait! I have a brilliant idea. I need to clean the boosters and high chair, so I take them all out back, run some soapy water, grab four sponges/cloths (one for each of us, of course), and invite them to help me “clean” the chairs. Of course, the water ended up full of sand and grass, but we did get off more dirt than we put on. I put the pieces on the grass and went to get the hose. 

I rinse off the pieces with clean water, just as Alex announces he needs to go poopy. Which in Alex-speak, means it’s either already there or very close. So I drop the hose, tell Erin she may “finish” cleaning off the chairs to stop her from asking me for the 1200th time, and ran with Alex into the house. As I pull down his pants, a puck of poo falls out onto the floor. GRRR!!!! I pick it up, put him on the potty, and am scolding him for going in his pants when Megan starts wailing from the backyard.

I finish with Alex and run for the back door and see the poor little thing absolutely drenched from head to foot and sobbing uncontrollably about it. I call in both the girls, trying to manage all three at the same time: Alex, sit there for another minute, you need to finish pooping/Megan, you’re fine/Erin, leave your shoes on, yours aren’t wet, I’m only taking off Megan’s so I can get her pants off/Alex, give me a second/Megan, sweetie, Erin is sorry she got you all wet, calm down, baby/Erin, why did you get Megan all wet?”

Of course, I’m saying all of this with no voice and no hope of being heard over all the ruckus, and then through it all comes Erin’s response: “Well, I was trying to clean off Megan’s snot with the water, but it didn’t work.”  

That’s right…she sprayed her sister in the face with the hose…trying to clean off her snotty nose. At that point, my rising irritation vanished — it just wasn’t that big of a deal. Alex will get the potty thing eventually, Megan was no worse for the washing, and Erin, sweet Erin, was just trying to be helpful. And all of the sudden, the humor in the whole episode hit me and I hugged Erin, sent her to get some clothes for Megan, cleaned up Alex and then we all got re-dressed and went back outside to play.

We came in after a while to have lunch, which the kids ate and then we started the nap time process. More pottying, diapers, all favorite toys accounted for, etc., etc., etc.

I closed their doors and headed downstairs to eat my (still tasteless) lunch and then decided to actually get back to my original plan for the day: cleaning the kitchen. I started unloading the dishwasher, went upstairs to scold Erin and Alex for still being awake (though when I walked in, Erin melted into giant tears because “Alex had yelled at her” to stop talking to him so I had to comfort her, have Alex apologize, make sure she understood that she was NOT to talk to him anymore and then exited again), and finally got back to my dishwasher, mildly annoyed that half of its contents did not get clean and needed washed again. I scrubbed things up and started to reload. I cleaned out the drain (man that’s a lot of water in the bottom that didn’t drain), ran the garbage disposal to make sure nothing was blocking it (oops, almost chewed up a Gerber spoon that had fallen in), checked for water under the sink (none), and tried to start the load anyway.

Nothing.

And suddenly I realized…sometime during our Meijer run…my dishwasher died. That’s why the first load hadn’t finished properly (thus the unclean dishes), that’s why there was water in the bottom of the dishwasher that wouldn’t drain, and that would explain why the button pad on the front has an odd black residue around and between the buttons. Oh, crap.

And at that point…I conceded defeat. I texted Eric to tell him about the dishwasher. And came upstairs to blog about our day so far. Because it has definitely, definitely been a day to remember…

Happy Friday!

I went to Australia on a six-week missions trip the summer after my freshman year of college. It was an amazing time. And it was almost 16 years ago (yikes!). But I was thinking about it the other day, so here’s a snapshot of the that amazing trip: 

• We often visited animal parks. At one, a bird pooped on Christina Jackson’s head. She left the park with toilet paper wrapped around her hair. She wasn’t happy with us for laughing, but it was hysterical.
• At a different animal park, an emu made a move on Jason Poling. The mating call of an emu is definitely not attractive!
• “Phones are Ringing All Over Town” played once an hour on the flight home. It is still one of my favorite Martina McBride songs. I also much enjoyed the almost empty flight where I got an entire row all to myself. Oh…the pre-9-11 days of easy flying!
• Tim Tams are one of the best cookies (or “bickies”) in the entire world. I would pay a lot of money to have a real Pavlova again. And Cherry Ripe candy (Cherry + coconut) and Vegemite were both gross.
• Getting there was a crazy adventure. Chicago thunderstorms sent us to LAX via Cleveland. We had to land on Fiji to avoid volcanic ash from an eruption nearby (we weren’t allowed off the plane). But because of that, we were late to New Zealand, so we had to RUN to our next gate (with like 5 minutes to spare). When we got to Australia, it was raining and they took us to a mall to see a big clock that played Waltzing Matilda before we met our hosts (called “billets”). Really, they were just keeping us up so our bodies would adjust to the time change. But either way…I still remember the clock.
• The sky in Australia is amazing. It bigger than in Ohio. I can’t explain it other than that. And they have amazing (often double) rainbows that happen all the time.
• For those six weeks, I actually knew how to correctly wind up an extension cord (for our sound equipment). I can’t do it anymore.
• Finding matching outfits for our team was a major hurdle, and mine were all too big. So I basically looked like a little kid trying to dress in big-kid clothes for the entire time we were there.
• I got to feed and pet kangaroos and hold a koala. Koalas smell horrible. Kangaroos really do look like big mice (think Sylvester Cat cartoons).

 But while the events of those weeks were amazing, the people I got to know were even better. And God used my team to teach me things that I’ve never forgotten, even after 16 years.

• Together, Christina Jackson and I learned that “It’s not a race.” We discovered early our shared tendency to rush, especially when eating. We were always done first and on to the next thing. Since nothing in Australia is rushed (“No worries!” they say), we helped each other slow down. “This is not a race,” we’d say, and we’d pause, breathe and start again. It’s a reminder I still have to give myself regularly.
• One week, we stayed in one house for 4 nights (1-2 nights was typical). Carol Lee stayed by herself with an older couple. They were kind of crazy. After a couple of nights, someone asked Carol how she was doing. She said, “You know, I just decided not to wish away a fifth of my trip. God put me with them, and I need to enjoy these moments instead of wishing them away.” It was gracious and mature, and I was struck by her comment. On days when I’m tempted to wish my kids were older and could do more for themselves, Carol’s words come to mind. “I will not wish away today.”
• I had a self-appointed watchman/big brother in Mike Engle. I appreciated him a lot. Like on the last night of youth camp, for example. As a send-off, they wanted to give us a giant group hug. No big deal, I thought, until I realized the students were going to take a running start and jump on our group like a crazy mosh pit. I was suddenly afraid I’d get crushed, and I said so to Mike. “No, you won’t,” he said, and just as they started toward us, he put his arms around me in a loose hug. The campers hit us full steam, and we got jostled around a good bit. But I was safe. And it occurred to me later…that’s exactly what God’s protection is like. He doesn’t keep the world from touching us, but no matter how hard it barrels into us, we are safe in the circle of his arms. 

But the most important lesson of the entire trip happened during our unusually long housing stay. Unlike Carol, I had great billets – a family with young children. She made me tacos (which are American – she called “tay-coes”) the first night, and they tasted just like my mom’s. That house made me horribly homesick. And one night, I was unintentionally excluded from their group. I ended up alone in my room, miserable. I wanted to go home. I was not getting along with one of the guys on the team. I was lonely. So I sat on the floor and prayed and cried. And after a few minutes, Jesus filled that room. I can’t really explain it. But a peace filled my heart, my frustrations with my teammate faded, and my loneliness got lost in the fact that, right then, Jesus was with me. I was not alone. He was there. As surely as if He had appeared physically in the room, He was there. I’ve never had that happen again. But I guess I haven’t ever been that alone again either. All I know is God took me all the way to Australia, pushed me way outside of myself, and then met me there. And I’m so glad He did.

Of course, I haven’t mentioned half of what I could say. I don’t have my pictures scanned (I have one of Christina with tp on her head!), so you can’t see what I saw. I haven’t told stories about Mandy or Josh or Travis or Chrissy and Tom or Jeff and Shelley or the lovely, lovely Australians we met there. But these are a few highlights. These are the stores I remember first, the stories that still resonate with me in the very, very different life I lead now.

But it’s good to go back, on occasion, and revisit those moments. They remind me that God is faithful. That 16 years is barely the blink of an eye for Him. That life happens, people come and go, events seem random and uncertain. But God…God is always the same.

Thank you, Jesus.  

So it was Easter weekend, so it automatically qualifies as “good” in my book. After all, we celebrate the fact that the God of the universe came and died and rose again so that we could be called “sons of God.” Yep…pretty darn awesome. 

Still, my MIL took my kids overnight on Friday night, and Eric went to get them on Saturday. So I had two whole days to myself! Yippee!!! I ran errands, I wrote, I goofed off, I went on a date with my husband, we slept in, I ran more errands, I checked things off my list left and right. And then everyone came home and that was lovely, too. I miss those little monsters when they’re gone!

Sunday, I was covering Sunday School for a friend, so to be honest, church didn’t really feel like Easter, though I did get to share the Easter story with a whole mess of 2 year olds. (Talk about enthusiasm when you tell them to yell “Jesus is Alive!” – we should all take lessons from them on that count…). Then we got donut holes for a snack, waited for Eric to get home (he’d played in the orchestra for Easter Sunday), then we packed up and headed to my parents’ house. We had an egg hunt with 5 kids ages 15 months – 4 years…totally fun. We had a super-yummy dinner, and then I got to sit and talk to my mom and sister for, like, hours. Definitely fabulous!

Surprisingly, our return to “normal” today hasn’t even been terribly difficult. It was almost like I was ready to go back to “real life” after all the craziness of the weekend. 

But I will leave you with two great things. A good, hearty, “Jesus is Alive!”

And some cute pictures of my kids from yesterday…

We’ve just been hanging out recently. Playing outside when possible. Doing a bit of running around here and there. Just glad that winter seems to be over. In fact, I have almost given up my suspicions that this spring-like weather is just a front for an impending arctic blast. It could still happen…this is Ohio after all…but we might just sneak into spring unscathed. Maybe.

So it seems the family is really starting to “get it” these days…

Eric told me the other day that he’s turned out prototypes of the filters he was hired to produce…about a year ahead of schedule. They aren’t quite performing as needed yet, but he’s definitely getting it. (Yeah…we think he’s pretty awesome, too…) 

Megan is pretty much always getting it – or more accurately…getting into it. Last night, for example, with both of us standing nearby, she managed to eat a handful of mulch. Nice. But she’s figuring out other nifty skills, as well. She’s a master tower-builder these days – especially with Duplos. She even narrates her building process: “This one,” she says as she picks up a new block. “Here” as she puts it in place. “‘Nother one,” as she reaches for her next one. It’s very fun to watch.  

Erin is learning to really truck on her tricycle. She pedals like a champ. She’s also starting to take a real interest in drawing letters. I need to get her more practice with tracing and controlling her pencil, but she’s starting to really get the hang of it. I never knew how hard learning to draw a line or a circle is!

But Alex…he’s my champ right now. I haven’t mentioned it for a while for fear of jinxing our progress…but I think we are finally getting the whole potty training thing. It’s been a couple of weeks since there was a full-out accident. He still leaks a bit, but he’s finally getting the hang of holding it and peeing in the potty. In fact, we were outside last night, and he stopped and called for me. Eric went to get him, both of us figuring he’d messed himself or something. But that wasn’t it at all! Eric carried him inside (he was working so hard to hold it that he couldn’t walk) and he did all his business in the potty! I can’t even tell you how excited that made me. We might actually survive this potty-training craziness after all! WooHoo!!

He’s is also starting to “get it” in other areas. He sat at our little piano this morning and sang me song after song after song. It was so sweet to hear him mostly getting the lyrics to Jesus Loves Me, Twinkle Twinkle, the B-I-B-L-E, and Itsy Bitsy Spider (among others). Of course, he’s also starting to get a real attitude at times and has tried biting on occasion, which is SO not allowed. But mostly, he’s really starting to get it, to grow, to turn into this amazing little boy, and it’s exciting to see. 

And me…well, I’m starting to “get” some things, too. I really struggle with the daily-ness of life. The constant pull of my kids, my activities. I keep looking for the moment when I have all the laundry done or the house totally clean or my kids totally taken care of – even if it only lasts for 15 minutes. But shockingly…that’s just not how it’s supposed to be. I realize this seems pretty obvious, but I have a pretty steep learning curve in this area (in everyday life and in spiritual terms). I keep thinking I’m supposed to “get it,” to manage my whole world until I have it all done enough that I can turn to God – and God has been trying to drum into my head that He wants exactly the opposite. He wants me turning to Him constantly (like my kids turn to me), depending on Him fully, walking with His Spirit, not in spurts until I finish a particular “race” (i.e. whatever lesson He’s teaching me right then), but just always. He doesn’t want me to handle my day and then come to him…He wants me to come to Him so that I handle my day like He wants it done. 

Like this bit from Jesus Calling… 

“I am calling you to a life of constant communion with Me. Basic training includes learning to live above your circumstances, even while interacting on that cluttered plane of life. You yearn for a simplified lifestyle, so the your communication with Me can be uninterrupted. But I challenge you to relinquish the fantasy of an uncluttered world. Accept each day just as it comes, and find Me in the midst of it all.”

An uncluttered world is a fantasy of mine. Or, perhaps more accurately, an idol. I worship the pursuit of some quiet idyllic life that I managed to scrape out of the craziness of life. And God never wanted that for me.  He is asking Me to trust Him enough to not have all the answers today, not get the perfect solutions right now, not to expect Him to ease my frustrations and pain until He says it’s time. I don’t like it. I am not comfortable that way. But I’m starting to “get” why I need it. And I’m starting to be more willing to learn His way, even though it’s hard for me to do. And maybe one day…it’ll look just like it’s supposed to – me depending fully on Him so that He can shine fully through me. 

Erin has a new way to open her sentences. She points her finger at you and says, “You know…actually” and then completes her thought. 

     “You know…actually, we could just go have lunch now.”

     “You know…actually, Alex needs to say he’s sorry to Megan for pushing her.”

     “You know…actually, that’s a good idea, Mom.”

She has also started replacing the word “too” with “as well” in normal conversation. 

     “Hey Mom, I would like a snack as well.”

My mom says it’s just because she’s my daughter. I have no idea what she’s talking about.  Erin also loves to sing along to the cds we play in the van. I will always be grateful to VeggieTales for teaching her the words to “God is so Good.” She sits in the back and sings every word to that song. And then she announces, “Mom, that song is about Jesus! And he is so good!” Love it. And she’s also started learning “The Wise Man and the Foolish Man” and “Peter James and John in a Sailboat” from those cds. So her new favorite story for me to tell is about Jesus and the great catch of fish…which, by the way, is a very fun story to tell to little kids. 

Of course, Erin’s not the only one cracking me up these days. Alex had a stomach bug earlier this week. He created a new name for barf…he called it “making brown.” And a few days later, he’s still referring to being sick that way. He and his dad have started referring to farts as “wonks” or “wonking” which is kind of appropriate and amusing all at once. Every so often He will break into song, too. He’ll sing Twinkle Twinkle and an sometimes attempt at Jesus Loves Me (if Erin will let him finish either). 

When I came in from exercising this morning, I found Alex at my desk chair, curled up under his blanket with his puppy. I asked him if who brought the blanket in (thinking Eric might have gotten it for him). He said, “I did. I feel some cold.” Then later this morning, he came into the loft, but immediately turned around and left again. I asked him what he was doing. “I’m just walking a bit.” Megan started to run after him, “Walk too!”

And then there’s Megan, of course. She knows and correctly uses an amazing number of words. And usually she surprises me with a new one at least twice a week. She asks regularly for “Nemo” (the movie) right now. We went to the grocery store on Tuesday and the library yesterday. On our way to story time, she sat behind me, happily repeating, “My-er. My-er.” Apparently we go to Meijer a lot. But I could not get her to say library the entire way there. She sings Twinkle Twinkle on her own, too, though you have to know that’s what it is since most of it sounds like gibberish. And she’s definitely got down phrases like “My turn!” or “Megan turn!” these days. 

But that’s enough recording memories for now. Happy Thursday! 

Right now, this is my favorite picture. Every time I see it, I giggle. 

All 3 of my kids, being themselves, caught on camera. 

I don’t actually have a fully developed idea here, I’ll be honest. I’m not sure how coherent or helpful or correct or whatever this post will be. But I’m going to write it anyway because I need to think out loud, and this is as close to that as I can get right now. 

It all started a couple of days ago, when I made a barely-conscious choice NOT to read the stories just surfacing about Trayvon Martin. I just didn’t have the chutzpah to try to dig into the whole story, so I read a couple of headlines and let it go because it didn’t really impact me anyway, right? But then, it wouldn’t go away. A couple of days later, a friend, a guy I knew from college, posted a FB comment about the situation. He is black. And his response shattered my illusions of separation. It impacts him, even though he lives no where near Florida, and he is my friend. So it does impact me. 

Because what would I say to him? If the debate got started, what stand would I take?

Then another friend put up this post on her blog this morning (after a FB discussion from yesterday). I read the quotes about racism and white privilege and empathy. I read the hypothetical situations she was using to try to understand. And I’m processing them. But it was the poem at the end that hit me between the eyes. A mother’s heart’s cry for her little boy whose “mountain is unjustly steeper” because of the color of his skin. 

And I suddenly realized why I am not absolved from this topic. I may not get into debates about what actually happened in the last minutes of Trayvon Martin’s life. And I certainly don’t have the historical understanding to break down and offer significant solutions to the complex and highly emotional topic of racism. But I cannot stand apart.

Because I have a little boy, too. One whose mountain is not sown with unseen land mines of hatred and prejudice. He will have his own battles, to be sure, and his tender little heart will be badly bruised along the way, but in all likelihood, he will not be suspected, followed, talked down to, or treated as “less” because he’s blond, blue-eyed, and fair. By sheer genetics, my little boy is already starting from a higher rung on the ladder of opportunity.

That momma who wrote that poem wrestles with the desire to protect her son by teaching him to be weak, all the while knowing she will, she must, teach him to be strong. One who can and will hold his head high and shoulders straight. To be a real man, even if that will make him “ominous” to those around him. 

And I think of my little boy. I want him to be strong, too. But what does strength look like for the privileged ones? 

And I hope it looks like Jesus, who modeled true strength. I want my son, my kids, to know Him…to know Him enough to follow the path He walked. The path that lead the Strong One to a place of suffering, of weakness…so that He could save others.  It is what Paul Miller called the Gospel Story.  And we are called to live out gospel stories, too. To live in such a way that we reflect what Jesus did by willingly taking on suffering so that someone else can experience grace, rest, protection, hope. As Miller says, “Whenever you love, you reenact Jesus’ death.”  

That is true strength. That one day, my son might willingly choose to suffer so that this other momma’s son might know hope. And grace. And healing. 

But how do I teach that? 

Miller continues, “Living in a gospel story exposes our idols, our false sources of love…When our idols are exposed, we often give up in despair – overwhelmed by both the other person’s sin and our own. But by simply staying in the story, continuing to show up for life, even if it seems pointless, the kingdom comes. Poverty of spirit is no longer a belief. We own it. It describes us…When we remove our false selves, repentance creates integrity. We return to the real source of love — our heavenly Father. We become authentic.”  

And of all the things I long to be, THAT is the word that sums it all up. Authentic. So that my kids see my life and hear my words and know they are the same. So that the people whose lives intersect with mine, no matter their color, situation or level of perfection, see Jesus’ story lived out before them.

So what does that mean?  Well…here’s where my thoughts are right now…

It means I must be wary of my assumptions. The unexamined belief is a dangerous one — because beliefs that are taken for granted, ideas that are automatically “right” and so are left unquestioned, are the fertile ground for racism, elitism — hatred in all its forms — to take root. It is from that place that we act and react based on hidden assumptions about a person or group of people. We refuse to see, to consider the other side, to allow that, just maybe, our way of being and thinking might be flawed. We do lack empathy because we refuse to look men and women in the eyes and SEE them as real people who need a Savior, who need hope, who long for real life.

It means understanding that a position of privilege means having a choice. Where others cannot, I can choose. And what is my choice? To celebrate my privilege or willingly shoulder another’s burdens. Because that is what Jesus did for me. He is my advocate, the truly strong standing up for the weakest of the weak. He defends me before the Father. He protects me from the accusations of the Wicked One (accusations which, to be fair, are true — I am sinful and unChristlike well more often than I am not). And then I am called to love “as Christ has loved me.” He was willing to trade places with me. I must learn to choose the same, to stand in the gap, stand up for what’s right, stand in front of those being assaulted and take their pain, even for only a moment. To “lay myself down” on their behalf, as Christ did on my behalf.

And it means action. The truth is, I have almost no friends who don’t look like, live like, see life like me. What message does that send to my children? Where are the children who look different or are differently-abled for them to play with? No. I cannot remain comfortable in my obliviousness anymore. I have to intentionally introduce myself and my children to people and situations where we all must confront differences, what makes us uncomfortable, what makes us afraid. According to the research, many people assume that not discussing race lets a child decide for himself, but it doesn’t really work that way. To make a difference, I must point out the differences and talk about them to bring our assumptions into the light where they can be addressed or modified or repented of. And that means actively behaving differently — going out of my way to make new friends, find new situations, and create new opportunities for my family so that we can be part of bringing Jesus to this world, one person, one interaction at a time. (Though, in all honesty, none of what I just wrote sounds at all fun to me.)  

And of course, it means prayer. Lots and lots of prayer. Prayer for wisdom. For grace. For open eyes. For a heart of mercy. For opportunities. For more of Jesus in my own life so that more of Jesus can spill over into others’ lives through me.

Boy…that’s enough for now. I’m already kicking myself for writing all of this out because now I’m responsible for doing it. And frankly, I have no idea how to start. But there it is…what I’ve been thinking all day. God only knows where it will lead…pray for me!

So I was wrong. I called the flowers stupid a month ago. “Why are they starting to bloom…stupid flowers?” was, I believe, my exact quote. Then I proceeded to rant for a minute about how a frost was going to kill them all and I wasn’t going to have any flowers to enjoy when it was really spring. And now, it’s really spring. And I have lots of flowers to enjoy. And my ugly forsythia bush is brilliantly yellow. And the cherry tree beside my house as leaves on it already. Of course, I’m guessing the weather will tank back into “normal” spring weather someday soon. But still…I will give the flowers credit. They were, in fact, not stupid. At least for another week or so…

Actually, being a solar powered person, this weather is just plain lovely. Okay, so I can’t bring myself to turn on the AC, and frankly, 80 degrees in March is a little nuts. But still, I can take my kids outside. I can exercise outside. I can open the windows and let the fresh air sweep through my house (no allergies here, thankfully). So yes…lovely.

My kids are lovely, too, for the most part. We had a very busy weekend at the farm, so they played hard and ran hard and had a marvelous time climbing on the piles of dirt and aggregate that currently surround the under-construction barn that my brother in law is building. They were filthy. But they do love their “mud boots” and my MIL will do all our laundry twice in two days if necessary, so it works out for all of us. 

We then spent Monday with my mom and dad, playing outside, finding golf balls my dad hits into the field, and playing with cousin Abby. Again…lovely.

And then we came home. And we’ve spent the last two days readjusting to “normal” life again. That hasn’t been as lovely. “We” are overtired and the heat makes it hard to sleep well. So we’ve had lots of meltdowns and whining and boohooing. And we have lots of laughter and cuteness and fun times. Erin and Alex have both had splinters (their first ever) and minor cuts and scrapes from bikes turning over and sudden falls onto the driveway. Megan has been trying to stick her head, face-first, into any puddle of water she can find, be it an actual puddle on the driveway or the water side of the sand table. Seriously…for half of her first year of life, I was certain she was going to choke to death on some random item I couldn’t stop her from putting into her mouth. Now it seems I will be constantly worrying about her drowning because she can’t NOT put her face in the slightest bit of water. Sheesh!

And speaking of weird habits…it seems that my Erin has a habit of chewing on wood. Her bed had a wooden side rail that Eric created for her ages ago…I found her with pieces of it on the floor and in her mouth after nap yesterday. So I bought a fabric bed rail. And today she chewed apart a popsicle stick and started gnawing her her actual bed now. I have no idea how to break her of this habit (any advice is more than welcome). 

On the other hand, she cracked me up today when she came running to me while I was making lunch. Alex was howling because he’d just hit his head on the wall, Megan was yelling at me from the table (“Hun-gee! Hun-gee!”), and Erin suddenly needed a hug so she threw her arms around my neck and cried, “I’m just having a rough day!”

So really, things are pretty normal. And tiring. And constant. And good. And I’m working harder again on being present with my kids because I’d been slacking off in that area. And I’m finally reaching some conclusions on the mess of deep-thoughts that have been holding some Wrestle Mania style match in my head (perhaps I’ll be brave enough to blog about them, but no promises). And I am so grateful for my husband and my sister and my mom and my kids and the wonderful, messy, so-much-better-than-I-deserve life that God has given me. 

And I’m going to bed. Good night!