In the Midst of Wolves

This coming week will bring about some big changes in our house and to say that I am a bundle of emotions is an understatement.

Tomorrow, I go back to work after taking a year off for maternity leave. But what I’m struggling with even more so is the fact that my oldest son starts kindergarten on Wednesday.

For the past year, I’ve been blessed to stay home with my two boys every day. Home, where we are safe. Where I at least feel somewhat in control of what they will see and hear even though…let’s be honest…nothing is totally in a parent’s control.

On one hand, I am so excited for the experiences that he will gain with this huge step. New friends, new activities, new skills learned. He will no longer have to pretend to read his books or “read” them by memory – he will actually learn how to read the words on the page. He will learn that when he measures his toy dinosaur, it’s four INCHES, not four POUNDS (and yes, I realize that I could teach him this myself…but it’s just too cute to correct.) He will begin to learn that the world really isn’t centered around him as he figures out what it means to work with others and be part of something bigger than himself.

On the other hand, Matthew 10:16 keeps creeping into my mind: “Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves. Therefore be wise as serpents and harmless as doves.” These were Jesus’ words as he spoke to His disciples, warning them of persecutions that would come in His name. But I can’t help but feel they apply to this situation as well. Call me dramatic, but a part of me feels as though I’m sending my sweet, innocent boy into a pack of wolves. Even though I have every confidence that his teacher and the school administrators will provide a safe learning environment and will do everything in their power to take care of my baby while he’s away, this big step toward independence has my stomach in knots because I know that not all of his experiences will be good and there’s nothing I can do to shelter him from those bad things. He may get teased. He may get left out. Or, an even greater fear of mine: he may be the one doing the teasing or leaving others out. Either way, I won’t be there to protect him or correct him. He’s going to hear other kids say things I don’t allow him to say. And, like I did in elementary school, I’m sure he’ll experiment a little with those “bad words” himself. Along with all those exciting things he will learn from his teacher, he will also learn things from other kids that will make me cringe.

And when I think about his innocent mind being filled with inappropriate things, his beautiful little eyes being opened to what the world has to offer, it makes me want to lock him in the house with me and never leave again.

So today, I have to lean on God’s promises – things that I know are true.

First of all, He promised this: “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6). I have to trust that the foundation that we and our church family have provided for him at home will go with him even as he grows…even as he experiments with things he knows better than to say or do…and that at the end of the day, he will remember his faith in a God that is bigger than this world.

I am also reminded of Jesus’ words and promise in Matthew 6:25-34: “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” I know that this verse seems to address worrying in regards to money, but it applies to all worry. And it reminds me that our God provides, and He is in control. Worrying about what Aven will see or hear or do won’t change anything – it’s all part of His perfect, bigger-than-I-can-comprehend plan for Aven’s life. None of it has ever been up to me in the first place – I’m just the one who is lucky enough to watch him grow up so that he can fulfill the purpose that God has for him here on this earth.

I ask you to pray for all of our kids, teachers, and staff all over our nation as we begin a new school year in an uncertain and unsafe world. There are so many kids who can’t wait to come back to school, just to know for certain they will have their next meal or that they can have seven full hours without being beaten or abused by a family member. Please pray for the safety and success of all of our kids – our future – and for their teachers, that they will not only teach them what they need to know, but that they will be a light in this world of darkness and a symbol of peace and safety.

Advertisements

Reflections on the Daddy of Jesus

As I’m typing this, only one hour remains until Christmas. I, like many parents, am already exhausted. Exhausted in the best possible way, of course. We’ve already been through two rounds of opening presents with family and we’re nowhere near finished. After bathing the kids and getting them to bed, I’ve been up getting all my own last-minute preparations done before tomorrow’s excitement, smiling as I imagine my sons’ faces when they wake up and see all the presents under the Christmas tree. (And I have to admit, another reason I’m smiling is because the Elf on the Shelf has to go back to the North Pole for another year.)

In the midst of all the chaos, I received the best possible reminder of the Reason for it all – when I just read the story of Jesus’ birth to my boys. We read it from their Beginner Bible so they could see the pictures to accompany the story. And just like he does every time we read ANY story, my four-year-old son interrupted constantly with questions. “What’s an inn?…It’s like a hotel? Why were there so many people in the hotel?…What’s a manger?…Why did they have to sleep in a barn?” I love to answer his questions, especially during stories as important as this one – it means he’s paying attention, and that he’s learning. But, as I constantly stopped the story to answer questions while also prying my six-month-old’s little fingers off of the book to keep him from eating the pages, I felt like I wasn’t accomplishing much.

But tonight, after we finished the story and he sat staring at the picture, my son shed a new light on a story I’ve read so many times before. “Why isn’t God there to see baby Jesus?”

“He was there,” I said. “You just can’t see Him.”

“God is Jesus’ Daddy?”

I smiled. “Yes, He is.”

The idea of Jesus as God’s Son wasn’t a new one to me, obviously. But hearing my son call Him Jesus’ “daddy”? That was different. Everyone knows that even though “father” and “daddy” mean the same thing in one sense, in another sense, they couldn’t be more different. “Daddy” has different connotations, drawing images of the loving relationship between a father and a son.

In my mind, I tend to have a more formal, stiff image of God. Inaccurate? Sure. But it’s just the way I frequently view Him. I see Jesus as the link between us and Him, having come to Earth as a human and sacrificing Himself on our behalf so that we can be reconciled with God.

But when I think of God as Jesus’ “daddy,” it softens that image somehow. I remember the birth of my own sons, how my heart swelled with love and pride at first sight of them. And as much love as I felt for them – as I feel for them every minute of every day – I know that my love is just a glimpse of the love that God had for Jesus. And luckily, though we’ve done absolutely nothing to deserve it, the love that He has for us. How His own heart must have leapt when He watched Mary give birth to His Son, even knowing the fate that He would meet in just a short time.

I think about the day when my youngest was born just a few months ago, and the birth of my oldest four years ago. With both boys, I wanted the best of everything. I spent months planning silly things, like their first pictures and what they would wear home from the hospital. I’m not suggesting that we shouldn’t make a big deal out of the birth of our children, but how trivial that all seems when I think about the Messiah sleeping in a manger surrounded by animals. It really puts things in perspective.

So as I reflect on the story of Jesus’ humble birth, I am incredibly grateful for a loving God, a merciful God who reveals Himself to me in new ways every day. Thank you, God, for sending your Son so that I might live. My prayer tonight is that You will help me understand your love more fully and give me every opportunity to share that love with others.

Like a Child

Living life with my four-year-old is, to put it mildly, an adventure. He has been the source of my laughter and my tears. My love and my worry. My admiration and my frustration. My excitement and my exhaustion. My pride and my embarrassment.  I love that little boy more than I could ever put into words and I would do absolutely anything for him. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t felt the urge to check myself into an institution after some days with him.

There’s a passage in Matthew that I’ve found myself returning to over and over in my studies this past month. And after reading it, I’ve realized that there’s a lot I can learn from my little man.

1 At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who then is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 2 Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them, 3 and said, “Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. 4 Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5 Whoever receives one little child like this in My name receives Me.” (Matthew 18:1-5)

I imagine the surprise and confusion on the disciples’ faces when Jesus responded to their question by pulling a little child to Him. A little kid – the greatest in the kingdom of heaven? People must become as little children to enter heaven? When I think about all the mistakes I made growing up – many out of sheer ignorance and lack of life experience – I shudder to think of returning to my youth. But that’s what Jesus wants us to do?

So what does it mean to become “humble as a little child”? I think about Jesus’ words all the time when interacting with my children, and two things have stood out to me lately in regards to those ‘child-like’ qualities that Jesus must have been referring to. And to my surprise, some of the very things that drive me absolutely insane are, I believe, some of the things God may be looking for.

  • Total Dependence

Last night, my son followed my every step for at least fifteen minutes, asking me to tighten the Velcro strap on his tennis shoes. This is a job that he can do alone, mind you, but he insisted that I do it “better” than he does. I thought he would eventually get tired of asking me as I completed other task after other task and give in to do it himself, but he was relentless. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and I bent down and tightened the strap for him, sighing loudly as I did it. He just grinned and said, “Thank you, Mommy. You did a great job,” before he went on about his way. And I immediately felt ashamed of feeling so irritated by his little request.

Any mother of young children can tell you that her job is literally never done. When you’re not with your kids, you’re still worrying about them. When you are with them, they require your constant attention. Even when they’re napping and you get a tiny break, you’re still on call – you can’t fully relax or get too far away. And when they’re awake, forget breaks. They need your full focus. Anything they want or need, it’s up to you to get it for them. Any questions they have, it’s up to you to answer them. Any stories they want to tell, it’s up to you to listen to them. Going to the bathroom alone? Forget it. Taking a shower in peace? No more. They are like your constant shadow, except your real shadow is quiet and doesn’t require any work, time, or attention.

Of course, I say all this jokingly. Sort of. The truth is, I wouldn’t have it any other way. But is it exhausting? Absolutely.

God will give us His constant attention willingly. If we want or need something, or have questions, or even just want to share things with Him, He is always there and wants us to bring those things to Him. And the best part is, He never grows tired of or irritated by us. He invites us to become like little children and depend on Him for our every need, want, or worry, no matter how big or small. He actually wants us to be like His shadow – relying on Him alone in every aspect of life. He will tighten the strap on your tennis shoes (metaphorically, of course) without even sighing in utter annoyance. In fact, He’ll be pleased that you acknowledged that He can do it better than you can…something I forget from time to time.

  • Losing the Filter

Last month, my husband, our two boys and I went down to Panama City Beach for a family vacation with my husband’s parents. My sports-obsessed four-year-old spent most of his days in the sand hitting baseballs from anyone who would pitch to him. He’s a pretty good little hitter and soon caught the attention some of our neighbors from the condo where we stayed. One day, while I was the designated pitcher, an older man stopped to watch him hit.

My son didn’t notice him at first – not until the man called out, “You keep that up, buddy! You’re going to make a great baseball player someday!”

As the man went on to tell him about his own glory days playing baseball as a kid, my eyes were on my son. It was one of those scary mom moments – a moment when I was looking into his eyes, but I could see past them and into his brain and I could just see those little wheels turning. He was no longer hearing a word the old man was saying – a question was formulating in his mind and it was about to come out.

I know other moms can relate to the feeling of dread that came over me. I offered up a quick, pleading prayer – Oh, God, please don’t let him say something embarrassing – and before I could say anymore, he blurted out, “Mommy, why does he not have a belly button?”

I could only hope my sunburn hid the heat I could feel in my cheeks. I gave him my best mom look – that frown with narrowed eyes that warns him to be quiet – but my son still studied the man’s stomach (which, by the way, I’m sure was equipped with a perfectly normal belly button…but his swimming trunks were pulled up pretty high so that the elastic hid it).

The man either didn’t hear the question or pretended he didn’t hear the question – either way, he didn’t respond. He simply encouraged my son again: “You keep practicing hard and you could go pro, you hear me?” My son just nodded, still eyeing the missing belly button warily.

When the man was gone, I squatted down beside my son. “Hey, buddy, you can’t say things like that,” I said.

“What did I say bad?” he asked, his blue eyes searching mine in alarm.

“About that guy’s belly button. You could have embarrassed him.”

He frowned. “I didn’t try to embarrass him, Mom. I just wanted to see why he didn’t have a belly button.”

I knew I could have used that moment to explain how it’s not nice to point out differences, but I didn’t. Instead, I just smiled and picked up the ball again. When my son saw the ball in my hand, his eyes lit up and he grabbed the bat, his mind already on batting and far from the man with the mystery belly button. He didn’t even understand that he’d done anything wrong. At that moment, instead of attempting to teach my son a lesson, I decided to let him keep his innocence a bit longer.

As we grow up, we develop a filter that tells us what is and is not appropriate to say. And with good reason: we don’t need to walk around pointing out people who lack belly buttons.

When first meeting a person, our filters are on thick, resulting in small talk, politeness, etc. After developing deeper relationships with people, our filters tend to thin out a little. (Like when your best friend asks for your honest opinion about a pair of jeans and you oh-so-politely inform her that they look horrendous.)

But when it comes to God, we have to lose that filter completely…both with Him and with others.

Our job is to be transparent with God, which is something I often struggle with. When I confess my sins to Him, I tend to gloss over them a little. And I don’t know why…He knows my heart even better than I do; what am I accomplishing by trying to filter my deepest thoughts before confessing them to Him? With Him, it’s okay to admit your shortcomings, no matter how horrible they may sound when spoken out loud. In fact, it’s what He wants us to do. It’s the only way He can help us fix them. It’s the only way to have a real relationship with Him.

Losing my filter with others is especially difficult regarding my faith. I talk about my kids, my day-to-day activities and events, my experiences. If God is the most important part of my life, why is it so difficult to talk about Him? It’s that filter I’ve developed – the little thing in the back of my mind that worries about offending others or being laughed at. But God calls us to share His word. If we ask Him to help us eliminate that filter, He will give us the words to say to glorify and bring others to Him.

I still mess up in this daily walk and I still have such a long way to go. And when I think about the patience God has with me, I’m ashamed of the impatience I sometimes feel with my own child. After all, despite his age, I clearly have a lot to learn from him about what it means to be a child of God.