That Time of Year

It’s that time of year again. Malls are full of back-to-school shoppers. TV ads blare back-to-school sales. (I’m reminded of my favorite ad from years gone by: a woman waltzing through a store gathering school supplies for her kids and belting out, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year . . .” ) A daughter-in-law prepares, with a full heart, to send both her kids off to school for the first time.  And mom Facebook friends have been posting since early August: “It should be time for them to go back to school by now, right?  Right?”

Then there are the conversations. “We just took our first child off to college . . .”  “I’m so proud of her . . . but how do you do this?”  It’s not the going: The excitement and trepidation and drama of getting ready. Lists checked off. Bedding and supplies gathered.  Goodbyes to friends. The iconic packing of the car. The trip down there, with lots of silence in the backseat. The butterflies in the stomach (all stomachs in the car, that is).  The trepidations about The Roommate. And then the excitement: New places. New friends. New vistas. Courageous smiles. No, it’s not the going.

It’s the coming home. Without them. Just you and him (if you are fortunate enough to have him). When we took our first son to college, I had just—ironically—finished the lesson on Hannah for our Mom to Mom curriculum.  Hannah’s words had been our verse when we dedicated this boy so many years ago: “For this child I prayed . . .”  (Read, if you have the courage, the rest in 1 Samuel 1:27-28.) Through the driving rainstorm between here and Williamsburg, Virginia, God gently reminded me: “Did you mean it, Linda?  You know, the part about “as long as he lives, he will be lent to the Lord”? Do you think you can trust me with him across state lines?”

Little did I know that was just the beginning.  There were two more taking-kids-to-college trips.  Then three long (and joyful) aisles to walk down.  Deployments and ministry careers and a mission trip that became a life across an ocean.  Countless exciting trips to and many long flights from.  And there’s Hannah again:  Each year she made a special little robe and went to visit her beloved Samuel at the temple where she had committed him to God’s service.  “Then they would go home.”  (1 Samuel 2:20b)  It still gives me chills every time I read it.

I’ve just done it again. Except in reverse. All our kids were here this summer for varying and overlapping visits. Sheer joy. Nana Heaven. Ecstasy, really. We read books together (Nana’s fav) and played games and went to the beach and the pool and ate lots of pizza and ice cream and had cousin sleepovers and celebrated a BIG birthday for the much-beloved Farfar (the grandkids’ name for Woody—it means father’s father in Swedish).  

Then they went home.  Home to New Hampshire and Virginia—and Ireland.  All of them.  Home to busy, God-directed (thank you every single minute, Jesus), meaningful lives which give us joy. Great joy. But still, they went home.

So you can imagine how these words hit me from the August 23 reading in Jesus Calling:

“Entrust your loved ones to me; release them into My protective care.  They are much safer with Me than in your clinging hands.  If you let a loved one become an idol in your heart, you endanger that one—as well as yourself . . .When you release your loved ones to Me, you are free to cling to My hand. . . . My Presence will go with them wherever they go, and I will give them rest.” 

Oh yes, and there’s more:

“This same Presence stays with you, as you relax and place your trust in ME.  Watch to see what I will do.”

I’m watching.        

Seven Reasons Why You Should Celebrate Your Shared Birthday with a 5-year-old

Reason #1: You get to have a Lego Star Wars Cake with Tom Brady defeating Darth Vader on it.

Reason #2: The 5-year-old is better at blowing out candles (and besides, there aren’t so many!)

Reason #3: You can have a sleepover, with squirrely little boys playing in your bathtub in the morning.

Reason #4: You get to read really good books.

Reason #5: You can make up all kinds of games.

Reason #6: You get to go see the Paddington Bear Movie, which is great—but watch out for that mean Nicole Kidman character!

Reason #7: You can have a second (monkey bread) birthday cake for breakfast.

I’m lucky to have an almost-shared birthday with my grandson Nils.  If you don’t have a shared birthday like that, I recommend borrowing a 5-year-old from one of your friends or extended family.  They really make birthdays fun!  ☺

Random Tips on Summer Fun (thanks to my grandkids!)

#1 Playdough in PJ’s is a super way to start the day.

#2  A closet makes a great craft and coloring room.

#3  Even Chuck E. Cheese can be a bonding experience.

#4  Kids of all ages love stories.

#5  Everyone needs a little glam in their life.

#6  Touching the nose is a good way to get acquainted.

#7  There’s nothing like Oreo cream-filled donuts to cheer you up.

#8  Cousins play hard and stick together.

 

#9 Ice cream is essential.

#10  Silly families are the best.

Thankful for a July of “glorious chaos” at our house.  Here’s wishing all of you a Happy Summer!

A Lenten Lesson from a Four-Year-Old

It’s a dark and stormy Friday night.  We’re driving through thunderstorms and heavy traffic to visit The Boston Children’s Museum with our two grandsons, Soren (7) and Nils (4).  It’s taking a lo-o-ong time, and the boys remind us of this regularly.  We make conversation about all manner of things, some of it focusing on the recent Olympics and how amazing some of those athletes are.

Out of the blue (as is the way of children), Nils pipes up: “But when I grow up, I want to be Jesus!”  There is silence in the car as we ponder this stunning statement.  Four adults—two parents and two grandparents—process the theology.  We are at a temporary loss for words.

But not Soren.  Soren, you see, is never at a loss for words.  He feels a sense of responsibility, as the older, very grounded-in-reality big brother, to help Nils stay better connected with reality. Nils has a wonderfully wild imagination, complete with “camo-friends” who attend the University of New Hampshire, live underground, and camouflage themselves when adults approach but reveal themselves only to Nils.   You see the situation.

“But Nils,” Soren corrects emphatically, “ you can’t actually BE Jesus.  You know that, right?  You can’t really BE Jesus!”

I’m still processing the conversation.  (Nana minds are slower than 7-year-old minds.}   An interesting theological dilemma.  Of course we know the uniqueness of Jesus, the One and Only Son of God. But aren’t we supposed to be in the process of becoming more and more like Him?  What is that verse about being more and more “conformed to the likeness of His Son”? (Romans 8:29 NIV) There seems to be an “already in process” and a “not yet” aspect here.  I’m grateful for the future promise: “But we know that.when He appears, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.” (I John 3:2)

In the meantime, we are called, are we not, to become more and more like Him. How does this happen? A question far beyond this humble blog post. But a question I think it’s good to ask during this Lenten season.

As I ponder the challenge, two observations:

1. We become like the people we hang out with.  Becoming more and more like Jesus is, at least for me, a lifetime challenge.  But odds are that more progress is made as I spend more time with Him.
2. Becoming more like Jesus seems to have a lot to do with seeing Him—actually seeing Him.  I think of  Mary’s dazzling cry on Easter morning: “I’ve seen the Lord!” (John 20:18)

My prayer for us all as Holy week approaches is that we may we see Him with new eyes, bask in the reality of His presence in our everyday ordinary lives, and live with this future hope:

As for me, I will see Your face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I awake in Your likeness.  (Psalm 17:15 NKJV)

What Do Your Kids Hear Mommy Say This Thanksgiving?

A little girl was helping her mother as she bustled around in a frenzy getting ready to serve dinner to a large group of guests.  When they finally sat down to eat, the mother asked the little girl to say grace. “But I don’t know what to say,” the child protested.

“Oh, honey, just say what you hear Mommy say.”

“OK. Mommy: Dear God, why on earth did I invite all these people to dinner?”

Sounds like me—or you, perhaps?—in that moment of total exhaustion when we drop into our seats after preparing a big meal.  And all the more so if you’ve cooked Thanksgiving dinner!

At this super-busy time of year, it’s all too easy for November to pass us by on the way to December.  Even our kids pick up on the November-December craziness (read my recent guest post at “Pass the Bread, Mom”).  Yet November offers us an opportunity we don’t want to miss: to cultivate gratitude—in ourselves and in our kids.

Thankful hearts do not come naturally in this “all about me” culture.  An “attitude of gratitude” needs to be both taught—and caught.  Of course that’s true all year round,  but making November your “thankful month” is a great way to start.

How often do your kids hear you express thanks throughout the day?  In one of our kids’ homes, they set a timer on their phones several times a day.  When the timer goes off, everyone stops a moment to name one thing they’re thankful for.

Two of our grandkids have a “thankful tree,” (described in my guest post at “Pass the Bread”).   Last weekend when Woody and I were with them, we got to add some of our own leaves.  And I noticed that just walking by the tree throughout the day became a constant reminder to me: Give thanks, Linda!

What am I most thankful for this Thanksgiving?  First: Our Great God, Who in His mercy, love, and grace has given us all the reason in the world to give thanks.  What did G.K. Chesterton say?   “The worst moment for an atheist is when he feels a profound sense of gratitude and has no one to thank.”

And second: The gift of watching parents cultivate in their kids (especially when they’re our grandkids!) a thankful heart.

Happy Giving-of-Thanks to all of you!

The Gift of Time

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about time.  For one thing, where has the summer gone?  Can it really be August? And then there’s the Olympics.  Are you as fascinated by the incredible feats of those marvelous athletes as I am?  Think of the time—hours and days, months and years—these men and women have put in prior to that one race in the pool, that one gymnastics routine.  And then it is all decided in moments—seconds, actually.  How many medals have been lost to another competitor by one hundredth of a second?

But most of all this summer I’ve been thinking of the gift of time.  Specifically, the gift of more time with two of my grandchildren than I’ve ever had before.  Erika and Richie and their 3 ½-year-old Gabriella and 11-month-old Judah lived with us for 6 ½ weeks from mid-June through July.  What a gift that was!

It gave me opportunity to enjoy everyday moments with them.   Not just family outings, carnival rides, exploratory walks, or a dip in the lake.  Not just summer fun riding horseback at the Children’s Museum, splashing in the little backyard pool, and making 4^th of July Little Cheesecakes.  But also just watching.  Watching Judah learn to crawl, build with with blocks, or play who-gets-the-spoon over breakfast.  Watching Gabriella feed her mom’s old Teddy Ruxpin, goof around over breakfast—or just wake up in the morning with all her friends.   Moments in time.  Memories made.

I savored every one of these memories.  Nanas get to do that.  There’s not so much time the first time around, when you’re raising your own little ones.  But it did make  me think of all of you.  Every one of you moms for whom summer may be flying by—or feeling like forever.  Every one of you Nanas who may be enjoying similar moments with your grandchildren.

Wherever this summer may find you—savoring or maybe just merely “surviving” (there are all these different moments in a mom’s life, aren’t there?)—I pray that you may take just a few moments to look at the faces before you.  Like Emily in the play Our Town, look at them like you really see them.   And now and then in your busy life, pause and take a snapshot—with a camera, or even with just your memory.  A moment in time.  A gift.  Thank you, God, for the gift of time.

Learning from the Little Ones

I used to say that everything I know I learned from my kids.  Now my grandkids are taking over—and teaching Nana a lot! Consider my latest life lesson, from our granddaughter Hannah.

Hannah and her family go to a church where they sing a number of hymns based on Psalms.  Recently they have been learning a song based on Psalm 22.   She knows a lot of the words.  But she knows more: how these words of God can comfort and sustain us.

Recently there was a particularly violent thunderstorm during the night in Pensacola, where she lives.  Her parents, our son Lars and his wife Kelly, awoke to great flashes of lightening and loud cracks of thunder.  They immediately listened for the kids, but hearing nothing from the children’s rooms, went back to sleep.

In the morning, Hannah, who will soon be three, told them, “I cried in my crib last night.”  Surprised, they asked, “What did you cry about?”  “The thunder was so loud outside my window.”  Lars went on to ask, “What did you do when you cried?”

Hannah’s answer: “I sang ‘Be not far off…’”  Words from the Psalm song they have been learning at church.

Wow!  I was immediately reminded how powerful it is to help our very young children “hide God’s word in their hearts” in their earliest years.  They learn so much more than we ever imagine.

But it was also a great lesson for me.  It’s exactly what I need to do when I feel afraid.  It may not be fear of thunderstorms.  It may be concerns about a medical report or procedure, an unknown or uncertain future, or a family member or friend who seems to be running in the wrong direction.

Singing the Psalms.  I remember reading somewhere a very long time ago about a conversation between Martin Luther and his friend Philipp Melanchthon at a time when Luther was undergoing deep depression.  “Come, let’s sing the Psalms.  Let’s sing the Psalms.”

Thank you, Hannah, for reminding us.  Let’s sing the Psalms!

January Light

Is it January?  Really?  2012?  Really?  I feel as if I’m coming out of a giant cave—a cave where we’ve just been having a wonderful two-week party.  And I’m blinking into the light of a whole new year.  A whole new world.

Our house has just emptied out after 16 days of glorious chaos.  In overlapping visits, all our kids and grandkids were here to celebrate Christmas.  Such joy.  The house was full of Pack’n Plays and sleeping bags (there were 6 kids 6 and under), bouncers and blocks, Pampers and puzzles.  There were tunnels to crawl through in the basement, elaborate track designs on the train table, and hide and seek all over the house.  There was almost always someone hiding in the pantry.

But the last flight has taken off, the toys are put away, the tree and all the decorations are down, and the house is quiet.  Very, very quiet.  And empty.  Way too empty. It’s January.

But there’s still that “certain slant of light” I wrote about earlier.  Each morning as I have my quiet time (very, very quiet time), I see it slanting in across the mantle where the manger scene was.  (Full disclosure: I don’t actually see sunshine every morning in Wisconsin.  Today it is gray and snowy, and the sun didn’t quite make it through.  But still, I know it’s there.)

A while back I wrote about being mesmerized by the light of Christmas.  Well, it turns out it’s still here to light our way into the new year.  It may not appear quite as glamorous after Christmas.  But it seems I need it all the more in January.

And that’s the great news.  The Light that came with Christmas shines right on into January—and way beyond.  The Babe born in the manger didn’t stay there, waiting to be safely tucked away with the nativity set until next Christmas.  That was only the beginning for the story.  Thanks to our redemptive God, the Light that came into the world at Christmas became our Light for all the days and weeks and months of the year.

Maybe especially for January, with all of its newness and uncertainty and unknowns.  The little chalkboard in our kitchen still bears its Advent message: He is coming! I need to update it.  He has come, “that true Light that gives Light to everyone.” (John 1:9)  And now He calls us to walk in that light : “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.  Live as children of light.” (Ephesians 5:8)

Even in January.