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.

was it a morning like this? (irony)

Recipe for a bad morning:

Wake up several times during the night, preferably to the sound of your youngest child crying.  Sleep through your husband's alarm clock so that you can be disoriented when you hear your own.  Answer your husband's “good morning” with a sleepy (ok, growly) mumble.  Think dark thoughts in the shower.  Read James during your quiet time and feel inadequate and burdened.  Fight with your husband over whether or not he should wear an ill-fitting birthday present.  Make coffee without replacing the carafe completely, so that the coffee accumulates in the basket with the grounds and spills out into the carafe, the counter, and the coffeemaker's water reservoir.  Allow your children to come to you with problems they should be able to solve on their own.  Remember to check when those homeschool affidavits and educational objectives are due and discover that it was two weeks ago.

Recipe for recovering the rest of the day:

Remember that the world will not end over this, and that if it did, that would be a good thing!  Spend a couple of hours with a friend and her children (after first printing out generic objectives and affidavits and filling in all blanks preparatory to zipping in to the notary in the afternoon).  Get the crying out of the way first, then laugh as much as possible while solving the more complex of the world's problems.  Have a random lunch, just for comic relief.  Nap.  Plan frozen pizza for supper, even though it's not Friday.  Try not to think about those late affidavits........

whistle, don't crawl

(from More Little Visits With God by Allan Hart Jahsmann and Martin P. Simon, ©1961)

The weather was very cold, and the ice on the river was frozen clear down to the bottom. A man came walking down to the river. He wanted to cross where there was no bridge. “I wonder if this ice will hold me?” he said.

For a long time he looked at it and thought it would, but he wasn't sure. Then he said to himself, “If I crawl over, it won't break so easily.” So he crawled over the ice on his stomach. The ice held him, but he was worried all the while.

On the other side the man saw a big truck coming down to the river. Without stopping, the truck drove on the ice and over the river. In the truck was a little boy riding along with his father. The boy never worried a bit that the ice would break. He was whistling a happy song all the while.

Which one was safer on the ice, the happy little boy or the scared little man? They were both safe. But there was a great difference between them. The boy who trusted his father was safe and happy. The man who did not trust the ice was safe but worried.

Some Christians are like the boy; others are like the man. Some trust that God will bring them across the way to heaven. They are happy with God and do not worry. Others are worried that they will lose their faith or that their faith isn't strong enough. So they crawl when they could ride and whistle.

You have Jesus, your Savior, with you every day. So trust Him. Be happy. Don't worry. Don't crawl. Ask Him to take care of you on your way to heaven. Then trust Him to get you there safely.

The Bible says, “You are kept by the power of God.” So do what the psalm writer said, “Trust in the Lord.” Then you'll feel like whistling.

Are you the scared little man or the happy little boy? I would love to say that I'm the happy, trusting little boy. But it would be a bald-faced lie. I am the scared little man in that story, no contest.

Jesus tells me in the Bible not to worry (Matthew 6). I want to intellectualize this and write about how to trust God, what steps to take, what formula to follow, and so on and on ad nauseum. Know why? Because I am a procrastinator. As long as I am talking about “how”, I don't have to actually do it, do I.

Trust is not a 12-step program. That would be a nice, gradual thing. Unfortunately, trust is just action. I don't get to first “feel” trust and then wait for an opportunity to act it out. Nope, trust happens in the very acting.

If I'm stuck on a ledge and my husband offers to catch me and I trust him, I'll jump. I can't trust him and stay on the ledge. This has some very scary implications for my Christian life.

I'd have to give up worry.

Oh, no biggie, right? I mean, who likes to worry? Ummmmm …. a lot of us, I think. But speaking just for me, I can make myself about sick worrying over my children, but the thought of not worrying makes me feel …. guilty. As if my worry were proof of my love ….

And what about finances? What responsible, spiritually mature person doesn't worry about their finances? Naturally we call it “planning” or “budgeting” or something else …. but can you plan for the “what-ifs” of the future without any worrying? Really?

Then there's knowing God's will for my life – you know, all the lifestyle choices from career or family size to tonight's supper menu and tomorrow's social calendar. Does God want me to eat only organic vegetables and whole grains or is it okay to serve frozen pizza and french fries? Does God want me to homeschool my children or should I send them to the local school? Does God want me to serve in the positions at church that I am asked to do or does he want me to say “no” to them and dedicate myself to prayer? Just in case I run out of things to worry about for my children or our finances, I can always worry about whether or not I'm hearing God's will correctly.

This is starting to sound ridiculous, even to me.

But it's my reality. I'm the scared little man, crawling on my stomach over the ice, wondering whether it will hold me or crack and plunge me to a frozen, suffocating death.

What would it be like to whistle on the seat beside my Father, trusting Him to carry me where I need to go? It feels a little irresponsible ..... a little child-like ….

What would it look like for me? What would I do differently in a life of trust?

Eat inorganically. Send my children to school. Read novels instead of nonfiction. Lie in the hammock instead of searching the online parenting forum for ideas and solutions. Invite friends over even though their kids might wreck my house and lose pieces to my children's toys. Work in my flowerbeds regardless of the pollen count. Give up on being thin, fit, and fashionable. Play. Laugh. Love. Dare.

What would trust look like for you?

Psalm 91

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High

will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,

my God, in whom I trust.”

Surely He will save you from the fowler's snare

and from deadly pestilence.

He will cover you with His feathers,

and under His wings you will find refuge;

His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

You will not fear the terror of night,

nor the arrow that flies by day,

nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,

nor the plague that destroys at midday.

A thousand may fall at your side,

ten thousand at your right hand,

but it will not come near you.

You will only observe with your eyes

and see the punishment of the wicked.

If you make the Most High your dwelling –

even the Lord, who is my refuge –

then no harm will befall you,

no disaster will come near your tent.

For He will command His angels concerning you

to guard you in all your ways;

they will lift you up in their hands,

so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.

You will tread upon the lion and the cobra;

you will trample the great lion and the serpant.

“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him.

I will protect him, for he acknowledges My Name.

He will call upon Me, and I will answer him;

I will be with him in trouble,

I will deliver him and honor him.

With long life will I satisfy him

and show him my salvation.”