If you've read many of my posts, you know by now that I do not consider motherhood to be for the faint of heart. If you're a mother who finds her job a breeze, you will probably want to just move along, go check out Pinterest or read the Post or something, because this one will just make no sense to you. For the rest of us . . .
: : :
I know no one really enjoys having sick children (and if you do - I really, really don't want to hear about it), but the last couple of years I'm embarrassed to say I have become downright fearful about it.
Having grown up on granola and garden veggies (thank you, Mom & Dad!), I've always been interested in God-made, health-promoting nutrition and remedies for sickness. My "medicine cabinet" has included ginger, elderberry, aloe, prunes, honey, lemon, vinegar, garlic, chicken broth, and Vitamin D (and, yes, Band-Aids & Tylenol).
I guess I kind of got to thinking I had the sickness thing covered. My insurance was starting to look pretty tight. . . . until the fear started.
I would hear a friend mention her sick child, or read on facebook about a bug going around, and begin to scrutinize my children for symptoms. Were their cheeks overly rosy? Did they seem lethargic? Was anyone's appetite suspect?
I'd go to bed fighting images of my children, sick in the night - literally battling the anxious thoughts parachuting into my mind like trained stealth invaders. I'd pray. Sing. Recite scripture. I'd visualize each child healthily sleeping, dreaming of rainbows and kittycats.
Eventually, I'd go to sleep.
It was exhausting, to say the least. And it didn't always work, for long. And even when it was working, the fears just seemed to come along all the more frequently, as if to make up for lost ground.
I knew it was no way to live for a Christian professing faith in God. But I didn't know of any way to deal with it other than battle.
And then - a book. I am always humbled that God, who knows my love for reading, is willing to speak to me through other people's books. Hinds' Feet on High Places was on my reading stack, and was teaching me about living a life of faith. At one point in the allegory, Much-Afraid, the protagonist with whom I could identify all too well, was in the desert of suffering and slavery. In all the barren landscape, she spotted a single flower, called Acceptance-with-Joy. She realized that since she could trust the Shepherd, she could trust whatever he offered her: even suffering.
Not long after reading that, I had another night of fear. I was waging my usual mental battle when I remembered Much-Afraid and her little flower.
What if ... ?
Like a shaft of sunlight entering a dark room I saw the way out. Acceptance-with-Joy! If God wants to give me sick children to take care of, then I will accept that with (eventually, I hope) joy.
Immediately Fear vanished like a bogeyman falling through a hidden trapdoor. Gone! I was free! I could hardly believe it could be so simple.
: : :
As long as I insisted on having healthy children, Fear always had an entrance: "what if your children get sick?!?!" And as long as I panicked in response ("oh, no!! what if they get sick?!"), Fear had a place to stay.
When I could respond to Fear's "what if - ?!" with a trusting, "Then I accept that with joy", it took the wind right out of Fear's sails - and left me submitted and secure. This yoke I've put on is easy; His burden is light.
I kind of like submitted and secure; it sure beats anxious and fearful.
I still have my "medicine cabinet" for preventing and treating real illnesses as they may arise, but that particular Fear is dead and buried, and I am beautifully free at last - to trust my Shepherd, and to enjoy my children without worrying unduly about tomorrow.
Showing posts with label freedom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freedom. Show all posts
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
masquerading as opportunity
My Farmer and I decided last night to opt out of an "opportunity" for our children.
I know, I know, what indifferent parents that makes us!! Children need opportunities; we shouldn't let them miss out on an opportunity to visit the elderly / sing with a choir / help out with a church project / make new friends / etc., etc., !!!
[insert guilt]
Actually, we see it as a positive move.
We've seen how opportunity-ridden our immediate cultural circle is, and how the opportunities, despite being perfectly good ones in and of themselves, quickly pile up like so many annoying battery-operated toys. For our family, more opportunity has not been better than less. In our experience, more opportunity often equals ill-rested, bickering, ungrateful, restless children who don't get enough "normal" to remember how "normal" feels.
We are opting instead for the opportunity to give our children the gift of free time. That's right, time when they get to decide how to fill the luscious minutes:
They might play outside (yes, even in the cold!), working on their elaborate (and sometimes slightly disgusting) recipes for their "cat hotel", riding bikes, jumping on the trampoline, or just poking around, seeing what's coming up looking for spring.
They might play inside, creating a cozy space in a little-used closet.
They might rummage through their crafts supplies, bored, until something sparks their interest and they begin to create.
They might play with their little brother, building block towers for him knock down, reading stories to him (well, pieces of them, as he rapidly turns the pages), or setting up sofa cushion forts for him to hide in.
They might read.
They might write stories several pages long, complete with illustrations.
They might write letters to friends.
They might get out puzzles or play games with each other.
They might ask to cook something. (And I, on a good day, might let them!)
They might offer to clean (it has happened, to my great astonishment and joy!!)
: : :
It's hard to be a radical: I started this post feeling a tad defensive about our choice to say "no." But writing this has reminded me that although our children might not have flashy resumes, they are discovering inner resources of creativity and I will always be happy that we gave them the chance to do it.
We can do hard things!
And so, believe it or not, can our children.
I know, I know, what indifferent parents that makes us!! Children need opportunities; we shouldn't let them miss out on an opportunity to visit the elderly / sing with a choir / help out with a church project / make new friends / etc., etc., !!!
[insert guilt]
Actually, we see it as a positive move.
We've seen how opportunity-ridden our immediate cultural circle is, and how the opportunities, despite being perfectly good ones in and of themselves, quickly pile up like so many annoying battery-operated toys. For our family, more opportunity has not been better than less. In our experience, more opportunity often equals ill-rested, bickering, ungrateful, restless children who don't get enough "normal" to remember how "normal" feels.
We are opting instead for the opportunity to give our children the gift of free time. That's right, time when they get to decide how to fill the luscious minutes:
They might play outside (yes, even in the cold!), working on their elaborate (and sometimes slightly disgusting) recipes for their "cat hotel", riding bikes, jumping on the trampoline, or just poking around, seeing what's coming up looking for spring.
They might play inside, creating a cozy space in a little-used closet.
They might rummage through their crafts supplies, bored, until something sparks their interest and they begin to create.
They might play with their little brother, building block towers for him knock down, reading stories to him (well, pieces of them, as he rapidly turns the pages), or setting up sofa cushion forts for him to hide in.
They might read.
They might write stories several pages long, complete with illustrations.
They might write letters to friends.
They might get out puzzles or play games with each other.
They might ask to cook something. (And I, on a good day, might let them!)
They might offer to clean (it has happened, to my great astonishment and joy!!)
: : :
It's hard to be a radical: I started this post feeling a tad defensive about our choice to say "no." But writing this has reminded me that although our children might not have flashy resumes, they are discovering inner resources of creativity and I will always be happy that we gave them the chance to do it.
We can do hard things!
And so, believe it or not, can our children.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
fuel up
Ever feel kind of empty this time of year?
I don't mean your stomach - if your house is like most, there are plenty of cookies around to take care of that.
I mean your soul.
It's Christmas: "Joy to the world, peace on earth, goodwill toward men" and all that. But if reading that leaves you feeling more hungry than happy, if it brings a bitter retort to your lips about
family feuds
and low checkbook balances
and ungrateful children
and harried servicepeople
and other impediments to peace, joy, and love ....
.....then lay down your credit card and your grievances and hear this:
"Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost.
"Why spend money on what is not bread,
and your labor on what does not satisfy?
"Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.
Give ear and come to me;
hear me, that your soul may live. ..."
Isaiah 55:1-3, 6
"whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst."
John 4:14
"Come to me,
all you who are weary and burdened,
and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
Matthew 11:28-30
Friday, December 16, 2011
lessons learned from children's lit
A couple of weeks ago I worried five pounds off my body.
While the weight loss was satisfying (although not a method I'd recommend), the worrying was wearying. Confessing my sin began the grace process of being cleansed from it, and along the way, my gracious God sent me a book to help me see myself a little more clearly.
Understood Betsy, by Dorothy Canfield, is the story of a nine-year-old orphan girl raised by a spinster aunt whose worrying makes mine look meager. Merely by worrying aloud about her niece's poor appetite, the dangers of doggies one meets on the streets, the frights certain to be found in the schoolyard, the aunt managed to create a coddled, fearful, weak child.
A few turns of events later, the poor child finds herself out from under the protective wing of her aunt and transferred to the libertarian care of another set of relatives (of whom she has heard horror stories from the cradle upwards).
Thrust into the confident bosom of a family uneducated about her fears and inabilities, the orphan girl is unsurpassingly astonished to discover that she is capable of remarkable feats: caring for a kitten, dressing herself, rising without being called, walking alone to school, helping with household chores, and even .... thinking for herself!!
As I read the chapters aloud to my own little flock, it's gratifying to watch the orphan girl unfurl her wings and learn to fly. I see my cautiousness in their upbringing from a new angle, and am determined to change.
It's not meant (I suppose) to be a manual on childrearing ... but Understood Betsy is challenging me to let go of my worries and quit hovering, to let my children begin to soar.
The best books always do leave us standing taller.
While the weight loss was satisfying (although not a method I'd recommend), the worrying was wearying. Confessing my sin began the grace process of being cleansed from it, and along the way, my gracious God sent me a book to help me see myself a little more clearly.
Understood Betsy, by Dorothy Canfield, is the story of a nine-year-old orphan girl raised by a spinster aunt whose worrying makes mine look meager. Merely by worrying aloud about her niece's poor appetite, the dangers of doggies one meets on the streets, the frights certain to be found in the schoolyard, the aunt managed to create a coddled, fearful, weak child.
A few turns of events later, the poor child finds herself out from under the protective wing of her aunt and transferred to the libertarian care of another set of relatives (of whom she has heard horror stories from the cradle upwards).
Thrust into the confident bosom of a family uneducated about her fears and inabilities, the orphan girl is unsurpassingly astonished to discover that she is capable of remarkable feats: caring for a kitten, dressing herself, rising without being called, walking alone to school, helping with household chores, and even .... thinking for herself!!
As I read the chapters aloud to my own little flock, it's gratifying to watch the orphan girl unfurl her wings and learn to fly. I see my cautiousness in their upbringing from a new angle, and am determined to change.
It's not meant (I suppose) to be a manual on childrearing ... but Understood Betsy is challenging me to let go of my worries and quit hovering, to let my children begin to soar.
The best books always do leave us standing taller.
Friday, December 09, 2011
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