How I do my quiet time

I love my morning quiet time.  I get up early, make my coffee and savor it while I spend time with God.  The top picture shows how I start the time--with the reminder that God loves me.  Period.  Every day.  I say a prayer thanking the Lord for that fact and asking him to bless my time with him.

I then do my "academic" part.  I attend CBS, an in-depth bible study.  This year we're doing the book of Acts.  I do the work for the day, reading the section of Acts and answering the questions.

After that, I review the bible verses I'm working on right now in the spiral notecard pack.  I'll be honest--I'm not making memorization a priority and I should.  I do, however, review these verses and meditate on them.

Next I use the flowered notebook that has my sermon notes.  I read back through them and pray them for my life.  At the end of the book, I have 2 sections that I write in.

One is for recording where I have seen God's fingerprints.  I'll write the date and record how I see God working in my life through people, circumstances, etc.  If I don't have something to write that day, I list something I'm thankful for on the thankfulness section.

I then go to my prayer scrapbook.  On the pages, I have a picture and things to pray for.  When I get an answer, I highlight and date it.  I've been doing it for 4 years now and I love seeing how the Lord works. 

The last part is the book Jesus Calling.  It's a devotional book that reminds me of Jesus calling me to follow him daily.  I often write down the big idea so I can put it on my kitchen counter and it keeps me "honest" throughout the day.

One of my big fears of my twins starting kinder in the fall is that I won't have time for my luxurious time in the morning with the Lord.  I'm trusting that the Lord will help know how to  do it in a timely manner. Until then, I sure enjoy it.

Lessons from sheep

I don't know how much I've shared here about our animals, but we have some.  My husband grew up having animals for 4-H projects as well as dinner.  We are continuing with this tradition for our family.  His eventual goal is to be a full-time farmer but until he's at that point, we're moving steadily towards it.

A year ago, we had one dog.  Six months ago, we had a few animals--the dog passed away over the summer, but we added 5 sheep.  And then 2 pigs.  Followed by a dog to protect the sheep and 2 cows.  We then added another dog because Aaron needed a buddy that would be a pet as well as help him herd the sheep. 

The pigs are doing their job--eating, getting fat, fertilizing their pen for a future garden.  They will also be filling the freezer soon.  The calf, T-Bone, is also doing his job in growing to fill the freezer soon.  His mom, Bessie, is pregnant and will give us a calf at some point. 

As of yesterday, our sheep count is up to 11 sheep.  In farming terms, these are great advances. We have 6 lambs.  Allow me to share a bit about these little wooly boogers.  The breed we have isn't at all maternal.  The moms don't seem to care a bit about their lambs.  It's very odd and almost troubling to me.  I'm having to learn that not all creatures on this planet are the same and accept that fact.

The truth is that the boy lambs, 2 are boys, will only be with us a few more months and then they'll head off to be sold for meat.  This is the way a farm makes money, and we are farmers.  I'm having to get my head around this.

One of the dogs, Hank, is a protection dog.  He lives full-time with the sheep is his sole purpose is to protect them from coyotes.  The problem is he's a puppy and a doofus.  He plays too rough with the lambs and has injured their knees.  Very irritating.  Blaze, one of the lambs, is not healing very quickly and Aaron has had to doctor her up a few times.  She isn't nursing and acts like life is just not good.  She lays away from the other sheep.  And does her mom stay with her?  Nope.  She ignores her.  Tears my heart out.

So, last night when Aaron asked me to bottle feed her I was happy to do it.  I thought it would be sweet but it wasn't.  She wasn't interested at all and wrestling with her was just awkward.

Last night, I had her in a leg lock--she was in between my legs as a bent down over her, giving her the bottle.  Aaron had been more assertive with her and I could tell she preferred my gentle approach.  Awkward as it was, son #3 stood beside me and said sweet things to her as I coaxed her to take the bottle.  Such a precious moment for us.  As we did this, I could hear #2 in the pig pen literally chasing the pigs around, asking them to fight him.  It was very humorous to listen to.  #1 was off digging holes somewhere for some imaginary project.

Farming is so much more than I thought it was.  There's a softness to it when the animals need care.  There's a toughness to it when the animals have to be fed even when it's cold outside and we don't want to go.  And there's a beauty in realizing that God created nature to have seasons--seasons of birth, seasons of death and seasons of laughter and tears.  There's not much cuter in this world than watching a baby lamb bound across a field just loving life.  It's also heartbreaking to watch a baby lamb hobble after her mom who isn't even noticing her. 

But they're not people.  They don't have our level of feelings or emotions.  There are lots of things I could complain about with the farming.  I won't go down that road today.  What I love the most is being on this adventure as a family.  Celebrating that Blaze stood near her mom yesterday and that the other lambs are doing well.  Laughing with the boys and Aaron at the silly sounds the pigs make.  Watching Aaron teach the boys how to be men who love the land and work hard. 

As the fabric of our family weaves together to create who we are, it's really beautiful to step back and see that those carefully made stitches are coming together to form a beautiful tapestry.  Maybe not the one I had planned out, but one that is uniquely us.  One I'm proud to be a part of.

Who am I pleasing?

I accidentally found a great book that I want to recommend:  Women Who Try too Hard:  Breaking the Pleaser Habits by Dr Kevin Leman.

I was looking for another book and found this one in my search.  I'll say that not all of this book applies to me, but I got some great nuggets from it.  I'll share a few:

*You can be a "pleaser" and not be a doormat.  I love pleasing people, but this book reminded me that it's my choice to please others.  It's OK to disappoint others, too when I say no.

*Being a perfectionist isn't that great.  In this book, there's a wonderful chart that compares what a perfectionist expects and what someone who has high expectations of herself expects.  Being a perfectionist is tiring and exhausting.  Pre-kids, I wouldn't have considered myself a perfectionist.  I enjoyed teaching, my home and my life.  I didn't feel like I needed a tight grip to be OK.  And then kids came along and I felt overwhelmed by not measuring up.  What a lie.  I cringe that I bought into it for so long (and continue to when I stop paying attention).

The perfectionist vs non-perfectionist basically comes down to what Aaron and I call the "growth mindset."  We read a book a few years back that discussed the difference between the growth mindset--one that believes change is possible--as opposed to the closed mindset--one that believes change isn't possible.

Just the other day we had a tiff about our new dog.  He's irritating.  At just the worst time--when I'm preparing dinner--he gets super hyper and wants to pay with the boys when they don't want anything to do with him.  This is a problem.  We finally agreed that the growth mindset was needed here.  I had to become the boss of the dog and the situation.  I did and even though the dog still isn't my favorite thing in my life, that hour is much improved.

The other day I did an exercise video (yes, I enjoy those) that I got on NetFlix.  It was hip hop.  I'm not a hip hop girl but I sure enjoy dancing like a crazy person around my living room.  And I didn't follow the instructor exactly.  At first I was bothered that I wasn't exactly doing what she was, but then I realized my way was more fun for me so I should just enjoy it.  And I did.

*Dr Lehman made the argument that to have a strong self-esteem you need to believe in God's love for you.  That was nice to hear.  I'm really working on reminding myself that God loves me for who I am regardless of what I do or how well I do it.  I had no idea how little I accepted God's unconditional love for me until recently.  What a beautiful realization.

*I can do things that are pleasing for others, but I can do them because it's fun for me.  In our Sunday School class, it's easy to see what parts of the body we are.  Jenny who organizes the backpack ministry is the heart, Rachel who sends out the weekly emails and organizes us is the brain, many of the men are the mouths and others have their places.  I thought I was another mouth because I talk enough for me and Aaron, but I've realized I'm the eyes.  I have a heart for those just outside the fold.  When visitors come, it's very important to me that they feel included and welcomed.

On this, I decided to make a bulletin board for our class.  In years past, we have shared classroom space with the PK choir so we haven't had use of the bulletin boards.  Now, the boards are empty.  Not fun.  So, I decided to use them to spruce up our classroom a bit.  I took pictures of everyone and asked them to fill out a very small info blurb.  I met with mild resistance but they complied.  I had lots of fun getting the necessary cute stuff for the bulletin board to make it look nice. 

We actually have a artist type in our class who could do this same project and make it look 200% better than I will.  But that's OK.  She's on the church's building committee and her cup is full with that.  I'm excited to do it so that when a couple comes in, they can see that they have things in common with those of us in the room.  That's a good thing to see.  When I finish it up I doubt I'll get cheers but I'm not doing it for those already in the group.  God gave me the vision to see what a small thing like a bulletin board can be for someone looking to find a place to belong.  And I'm blessed that I have the time available to do it.

The book talks a lot about women who are much more dependent on pleasing others than I am.  I am what he calls a "positive pleaser" which means I do like pleasing, but I do it in a way that's positive for me.  Most of the time.  Not so much with my parents--I do try too hard to gain their approval.  At least I know that so I can work to do better with it in the future.

It's so nice to know that at 34 I'm still growing and improving.  I want to enjoy my life, not waste it away hoping for the approval of others.  Wish it were easier to do, but it's nice to know I have a choice in the matter.

Odd conclusion to yesterday's post

Yesterday I posted that since I couldn't go to the mom's night I played the piano and made peace with it.  A wise woman would have left it that way.

Instead, when Aaron got home he fixed the fence (easy fix) and tended to farm duties while I fed boys.  He then sent me on my way to my mom's night.  He wanted me to go and who was I to say no?

I met up with my buddies at the yogurt place and they chatted about the fun of shooting guns.  I was glad for them. 

This is where the story gets a bit odd.  In years past, I've noticed that there are mom's nights that are just a bust for me.  Not necessarily because of the girls there, but it just misses the mark for me for whatever reason.  Last night such was the case.  I was hoping for fun, easy chatting but we landed on one of those mom hot topics.  Suffice it to say I have strong feelings one way and even though I tried to bite my tongue, another mom had strong feelings the other way and I just couldn't not represent my side.  It didn't get ugly, but it wasn't what I had hoped to spend an evening discussing.

I came home in a funk, not even sure why.  I think I had gone out expecting to feel connected to other girls and I left feeling agitated.  Not how I wanted to feel.

That's what's tricky about girl nights.  You pull a favor from husband to have some time for you, and it's not great.  I know better than to get pulled into an argument like that.  I don't want to be that know-it-all that can't have a casual conversation.  Oh well.  Some days are just like that.

Piano vs shooting guns

Today I let #1 have a Mommy Day.  My boys think these are pure gold.  The other brothers go to MDO and one gets to spend the day with me.  I did one per boy fall semester so they could get their well-check appts on their own.  It worked out well.  Also, #2 loves alone time.  It really resets his battery.  I decided to do another round of Mommy Days so that I could spend some time with the boys and so they could spend their Christmas money.

We hadn't taken them shopping like this before, so they had a few birthdays built up.  Each boy has had his day with me and overall, they've been good.  Today #1 had his day and of all of them, he's the one that is easiest for me to deal with.

It was also easy knowing that I had a mom's night out tonight.  My MOPs group is getting together to shoot guns at a gun range in town.  Don't think I would choose that on my own, but it sounds like a great way to blow off some steam.  Afterwards, we're headed over to a yogurt place just to chat. 

There was a time I went to each mom's night out we had.  And then my husband started collecting animals on the farm.  Now, it doesn't always work out that I can go.  Like tonight.  The electric fence has a short.  He can't work on it until after boys get down (which I appreciate) but after they're down, he has to go do it.  Someone has to stay in the house so that if boys get up or need help an adult is there.  I get to be that adult.

Instead of shooting targets, I'll be sitting on the couch.  Bummer.  When I connected all these dots (at 4PM when I had been looking forward to girl time for 2 days) I made a decision.  My battery has to be recharged.  If it can't be recharged by being with friends, I can recharge at home by playing the piano.  So I did.  Nice and loudly for 30 minutes while the boys were told to leave me in peace.  They did.  Very good.

Husband will be home before long and I can be at my best for him.  Pianos are good things.

The greatness of Sundays

As I write this, my boys are "working" with Aaron outside.  He's working on fence and they are very involved in whatever work they create for themselves.  I call us "free range parents" when it comes to being at the farm.  We just let the boys go.  They climb fence, dig stuff up, move fallen trees (small ones--they're not Paul Bunyons).  And they love it.

I made a token wife appearance at the farm to appease husband and I do like to see the lambs--there are 3 now--but it's very windy.  I was very happy no one wanted to come back to the house with me.  So, I'm sitting in silence, sucking on a cherry lollipop and pondering over the greatness that is Sunday.

Sundays are great.  I love our church.  Going there is a joy for me.  Pre-kids we would go out to eat for Sunday lunch.  It was nice.  And then kids came.  We did takeout for a while, but now that Aaron is losing weight that has stopped.  So, I do a crockpot meal.  Today I made a chicken tortilla soup that turned out well. 

I've since written a letter to a dear friend who lives far away, lingered over the Sunday paper, put together a sophisticated pork dish for supper that can cook all afternoon and be delicious later.

And the phone rang.  Husband calling telling me #3 is done at the farm, to watch for him as he comes back.  Did it.  Another call.  #2 headed my way.

So much for silence.  Sunday is still nice, just a bit noisier now.

Being brave & true love

Below I've pasted a blog posting from Jen Hatmaker about being brave.  Her point is excellent:  we work so hard to keep out kids safe that we don't teach them to be brave.  At the end of the posting, she even encourages us to help them become dangerous for the kingdom of God.  

I love the thought of the devil shaking in his boots because my 3 boys are on the prowl, ready to make this world more like God created it to be.  Take out meanness.  Stand up for the little guy.  Be the kind of men God is proud to call his sons.

As I write this, my 2 oldest are plotting their dirt work.  In our backyard, they use shovels to dig holes.  They change from day to day what they're building and who the "big boss" is, but ultimately, they believe they are building something important and they relish their work.

The non-brave mom in me thinks I'm crazy to let them play with shovels without me out to supervise them.  The brave mom in me trusts that they know to not whack each other and if they do, to not create bodily harm.  (#2 did whack #1 the other day for being too bossy.  #1 wasn't hurt but did learn the lesson that employees will only put up them so much).

Yesterday was Valentine's Day and we had a good one.  Nice dinner, babysitter did a great job with the boys and all was right with the world.  I used to expect a perfect Valentine's Day and always be disappointed.  This year, not everything was perfect--my husband was grumpy from bad traffic and work, I was late due to explaining too much to the babysitter and I was overdressed for the restaurant.  But that's life.  I was reminded last night that I promised to stand beside my husband for better or worse.  Perfect dates and dates where I have to put on my listening ears and show him kindness instead of enjoying sparkling dinner conversations that romance novels are made of.  Here in the real world love is more than romance and Fabio on the cover sometimes has a black eye.  And we love him anyway.  Because Love is patient.  Love is kind.  Love bears all things.  And I choose daily to live that kind of love with my husband.

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Brave Moms Raise Brave Kids

by Jen Hatmaker on January 17th, 2013

 

Over delicious Greek food with my girlfriends, we had this conversation:

Me: I was made to parent boys, yall. I love boys. I love them dirty and reckless and dumb as a sack of diapers. I love their ridiculous “projects” and adventures and all that. I love how they are always one step away from dismemberment or death. It’s so fun. Boys are the best.

[Blank stares from my girlfriends]

Me: What?

Amy (mom of 4 boys): Last week, I caught Grey (3-years-old) on top of my dresser fetching a hunting knife from Brad’s “hiding place” so he could cut the top off a water bottle because he couldn’t get it opened and I was still sleeping. I believe we have two different definitions of “fun.”

Lynde: Um, you do remember that I wouldn’t let my 14-year-old high school son go to our suburban neighborhood park because I was convinced people might be selling drugs there, right? You’re barking up the wrong tree, sister.

They are totally right. I’m cut from a weird cloth here. I have the parenting sensibilities of a typical 1970’s mom whose only concern with her children was that were under her feet and needed to get outside.

The first line of Remy's prayer last night: "Dear Lord, I wish my mom and dad were ninja."
She lives in a house of boys, Lord. Just ignore it. 

Oh sure, when my kids were babies I lived in total fear, because obviously now that they were living outside my body, the universe was conspiring to kidnap/maim/emotionally injure/murder them. It was just a matter of time. Were it not for my diligent oversight, our neighborhood would undoubtedly be overrun by white vans with dark windows waiting for me to simply turn my back whilst they zipped my kids over to the black market.

But then I kept having more babies, and you know, those chillins started wearing me out. I began to use my precious mental margin less on strategies for rescuing us from a submerged car and more on just getting everyone the freak through each day. We emerged from several potentially life-ending scenarios unscathed: public restrooms, parks, driving over bridges, eating raw carrots, not-washing-hands-after-pee-pee, and I began to lighten up.
 
As a product of my own parents’ philosophy, perhaps this scene from 1985 might illustrate my point:

We were at our family cabin outside Colorado Springs for our summer vacay. My brother, 7, and our cousin Dorie, just 9, were outside at night in our family station wagon, curled up in blankets with the portable VHS TV, watching – wait for it – Candyman, which despite the enchanting name, is actually a petrifying horror movie for grown adults. (TV timeout: Really, Mom and Dad? Candyman?? For a 2nd  and 4th grader?? You understand my generation won’t let their kids watch Scooby Doo because of the fake ghosts, right?)

So as the two elementary-aged children were watching a parent-sanctioned horror movie in the middle of a dark forest, my dad and uncle decided it would be “hilarious” to sneak up on the car, make weird scratching noises, then scream and bang on the car in unison. Twenty years later, my brother and cousin will still pee their pants at the mere mention of it.

While Candyman and subsequent terror might have pushed the boundaries, I miss the days-gone-by of laidback parenting. I love boys to be boys, kids to be kids. I like to send them straight into the forest with hammers, knives, nails, duct tape, and hand-drawn blueprints and not hear boo from them in five hours. When they come home filthy and scratched, telling tales of skateboard ramps gone wrong and forts, I cannot express how much this thrills me.

I often feel like I’m surrounded by parenting books and mom blogs that are just…so precious…so earnest…I struggle to find connection and walk away discouraged and disillusioned and frustrated. We Hatmakers are simply not precious people. From Precious Ones we did not come, and Precious Ones we will never be.

Honestly? I like a little grit in my story. I often feel suffocated by my generation’s insistence on safety and control and perfection and hegemony. I genuinely like my kids to be a little wild and free. I want to have to say to my sons, “Only boys would think something like this up,” and pretend to be put out when really I’m enamored.

We are on a spectrum as parents, aren't we? At the beginning, it is full control, total adult responsibility. At the end of the main session, when they crush our hearts and leave for college, we they need to be weaned off. Somewhere in the middle, the needle has to move toward launch. What better place to practice growing up than under our roofs, still protected from total self-destruction by the safety net of childhood?

I’ve seen older kids babied within an inch of their lives, headed off to higher learning with no clue on how to be resourceful, how to figure it out, how to handle life’s knocks and bruises. Over-protection has its place for, say, kindergarteners, but at some point we need to put down the bumpers on the bowling lane.

Psychology Today stated, “According to a recent study by University College London, risk-taking behavior peeks during adolescence, suggesting that teens are "programmed" to take risks more often than other age groups… Contrary to popular belief, not all risk-taking is bad. In fact, many risks are not only good, but promote healthy neurological development and growth during the critical adolescent period.”

Not all risk-taking is bad risk-taking. For the love, don’t we want to raise kids who go for it? Who are brave and headstrong? These are not just the marks of achievers; they are the hallmarks of disciples. If we expect our kids to engage this broken world one day, safety has to be somewhere around #14 on the list. Our children will be totally ineffective if they are still afraid of their own shadow.

Are they going to blow it or fail or struggle in this parenting tract? Of course! Erwin McManus said his teen son asked him once: “Dad? Would you ever let me be in a dangerous situation?” Erwin answered, “YES! Totally!” and his son said, “I thought so. I was just making sure.”

We love Romans 8:28 for our kids: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”  But can we accept the very next verse?

“For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters.”

Being conformed into the image of Jesus is not a pretty process, because our kids are born into sin and God has messy, real work to do to transform them into disciples. This process involves sacrifice and loss and struggle and failure and courage and maybe even danger and cultivating a single-minded obsession with the kingdom. They may embarrass or disappoint or scare us as they wrestle with God, but can we see his redemptive hand in their lives even then?

When have you grown the most? Changed the deepest? STRUGGLE. Failure. Loss. Risky obedience. Messy relationship mending. Our kids are the same. Our job is not to shield them from everything hard, but to parent them through it with wisdom and discernment. We should not pull our kids completely out of this culture in some parallel Christian universe, but teach them to navigate the real world with grace and conviction. This requires a gradual process of letting go, so our kids can actually live a real life with real people and real problems and discover the real God who shows up there.

I don’t want my kids safe and comfortable. I want them BRAVE. I don’t want to teach them to see danger under every rock, avoiding anything hard or not guaranteed or risky. They are going to encounter a very broken world soon, and if they aren’t prepared to wade into difficult territory and contend for the kingdom against obstacles and tragedies and hardships, they are going to be terrible disciples.

I don’t want to be the reason my kids choose safety over courage. I hope I never hear them say, “Mom will freak out,” or “My parents will never agree to this.” May my fear not bind their purpose here. Scared moms raise scared kids. Brave moms raise brave kids. Real disciples raise real disciples.

May we let the leash out, bit by bit, and allow our children to take big giant gulps of LIFE. Because their time under our roofs is waning as we speak, and we get one shot at this. One more quip from Erwin McManus, because THIS, this is the stuff:

One summer Aaron went to a youth camp. He was just a little guy, and I was kind of glad because it was a church camp. I figured he wasn't going to hear all those ghost stories, because ghost stories can really cause a kid to have nightmares. But unfortunately, since it was a Christian camp and they didn't tell ghost stories, because we don't believe in ghosts, they told demon and Satan stories instead. And so when Aaron got home, he was terrified.

"Dad, don't turn off the light!" he said before going to bed. "No, Daddy, could you stay here with me? Daddy, I'm afraid. They told all these stories about demons."

And I wanted to say, "They're not real."

He goes, "Daddy, Daddy, would you pray for me that I would be safe?"

I could feel it. I could feel warm-blanket Christianity beginning to wrap around him, a life of safety, safety, safety.

I said, "Aaron, I will not pray for you to be safe. I will pray that God will make you dangerous, so dangerous that demons will flee when you enter the room."

And he goes, "All right. But pray I would be really, really dangerous, Daddy."

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Tough, right?? I'm with you, Mamas and Daddies. Knowing when to let go is hard. Have any tips or stories to help us become brave parents?