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Present in the Pain

You know that gut feeling you have as a parent? The one that tells you exactly what’s happening with your child before your child can even express it? Well, I had that feeling, and I knew what it meant before Elena could even scream her first scream: it meant Ear Infection.

 She had been fussy for a couple days and at first I chalked it up to teething. But then her demeanor began to change, and she began to be slightly more clingy, and I just knew she had an ear infection. Her first one, poor thing, and boy was it a doozy.

I spent the next four days singing, rocking, bouncing, and swaying my baby, who screamed like she was dying the whole time. And after doing everything I could possibly do to comfort her and make things easier for her, I was finally left with nothing else I could do. I had come to the end of my ability to help her, and still she screamed.

I had a lot of time to think during those four days. Think about my role as a parent to my kids, and how it’s my job to help them navigate the waters of growing up, dealing with sickness and emotions, and learning relational skills. Often I have a goal in mind of where I want to take them in a given situation – move from sickness to health, bring a sibling argument to peaceful play again, go from disobedience to obedience, transition from feeling disappointment to being ok through it. My process is linear – obviously care, rest, and medicine with sickness. And with emotional and relational issues, we have a starting place and we talk and talk and talk and talk (and sometimes have a consequence) until we get to the end where they have hopefully learned how to come through it.

But when I sat there with Elena, at the end of myself for things to do, I realized sometimes the most important thing I can do for my kids is to simply be with them in the middle of their pain. In sickness, yes. But also in emotional struggles.

Why do I so often feel the need to move them from A to B to C? Why do I feel like I personally need the closure of quickly walking them to the finality of their current issue and then be able to move on? Sometimes, at least with my kids, I have to stop in my tracks, walk backward a few steps, and make camp where they’re experiencing pain. When I can meet them there, show them that they are not alone in their pain, and simply be until they are ready to move forward, I find that we grow together and the working-through process is more meaningful.

One of my sweet kids is extremely sensitive, especially when it comes to relationships. I often function as a “container” for these intense emotions, coming alongside and allowing all the pain of the situation to overflow, catching and wiping tears, gathering all the words, and holding the dam together for as long as it takes until the pain subsides. And only then do we begin the process of putting everything back together. Acting like a container means patience to hear every word, patience to hold my own words back, and patience to wait until the flow stops. But it also means creating an atmosphere of vulnerability and open communication, safety, and love.

Of course we never stay in this place. Being present in my kids’ pain doesn’t mean we wallow in it. But it does mean that we take the needed to time to understand it and experience it as part of the process of growing and learning. I always think back to something my sister said when she was taking child development classes: never minimize the pain a child is going through because it could very well be the worst pain they have ever experienced. I felt this so intensely with Elena and her ear infection. Knowing this was the worst pain she’d ever experienced, even though I had personally experienced much worse pain, motivated my heart to keep rocking, singing, and being with her until it subsided. Just because my child is feeling pain over something that I have personally dealt with a thousand times doesn’t mean I should gloss over it like it’s nothing. Because to this child, it may be the worst pain she has ever experienced.

My (other) sister works with girls who have been rescued from human trafficking, and the other day I asked how she thinks of things to talk about with them. She responded that often she doesn’t. Often she sits with them, just being with them, until they are ready to talk. In the middle of their pain, sometimes they simply need someone to just be. Isn’t that what we want, as human beings? For someone to come alongside us in our pain, without judgment or comparison to their own hurts and how they’ve overcome them, and simply be? Not wallow, not push, not rehash. But to be support in the middle of a very crucial step in moving forward – the feeling of our pain.

 I fail in this more than I like to admit, often minimizing the things my kids are crying over because I have personally experienced so much worse than, say, big kids telling me they don’t want to play with me or a baby sister eating the first red tomato off my tomato plant. And while it is also my job to help prepare them for the world (and no, there probably will be no “containers” for them in adulthood), allowing them to have an opportunity to express their pain, knowing that they are not alone in it, builds in them the security that they can feel pain, that they can express pain without negative consequences, and that they can walk through pain and come out of it whole on the other side. This foundation is so important to me as a parent, that they understand what it feels like to go down into the deep and still be able to come back up intact.

And as I finish up here, I can’t help but tie it to Jesus. I strive to imitate Christ to my kids so that they understand His love for them in a tangible way. Being present in my kids’ pain makes it easy to relate to them the presence of God in their pain too. He will never leave us, no matter how dark our lives get or how deep down we go. And for them to understand that not only will He be present, but that He can walk them through their pain, gives them the ability to eventually move forward from needing me to be their “container” to being able to rely on a good God who they know loves them unconditionally. If I do anything as a parent, it is my hope that they come away from my home knowing God and relying on Him to carry them through.

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A Marriage Post, Part 2

My friends, first let me say thank you. I didn’t anticipate such a big response to my last post, but you have blessed me beyond measure with your encouragement. After pushing “publish,” I went to bed with much anxiety for being so transparent with you about our marriage. I’m so glad that we are not the only ones who have walked this road. Be encouraged that you are not the only ones who have walked or are walking it either. 

I thought it'd be fun to add pictures of us through the years to these posts. This is prom, circa 2003. Apparently I was really happy about it.

I thought it’d be fun to add pictures of us through the years to these posts. This is prom, circa 2003. Apparently I was really happy about it.

When Micah was an infant, he slept for 45 minutes at a time. All. Night. Long. Not only did he wake every 45 minutes, he only fell back asleep by being walked, bounced, or rocked and sung to, which often took about 25 minutes. Add that up to mean I slept in 20 minute segments all night until my son was six months old.

Once he slept for three hours straight, and when I woke up, I felt like I could run a marathon. And once, when he was nine months old, he refused to go back to sleep by screaming so much that he threw up all over the bed. And by that, I mean, he threw up all over my bed. Being the organized, prepared person that I am, we had neither clean sheets nor clean extra blankets to use, so we did what any other family in our situation would do – we loaded up the car and waited in the Cracker Barrel parking lot for thirty minutes until they opened at 6am.

But I digress.

You can imagine what the lack of sleep did to us as people. Now imagine what it did to us as a couple. It threw gasoline on our competition. It provided fodder for nasty under-our-breath comments and subtle accusations. You know, that’s probably where my Morning Monster persona began. In any case, sleep was a huge issue.

One day Davy got the brilliant idea of trying to pray for our son to sleep. What?! Pray for sleep?! It sounded too simple, but we were desperate. So we committed to praying together every night for his sleep. As I look back, that moment we came together before the Lord was the moment things started to change in our marriage for the better because we had both reached the end of ourselves. We had no more ideas, and we had no more fight in us to blame one another for something beyond our control. We relinquished the control, threw ourselves flat on our faces, and cried out in desperation. Here’s the miracle: it worked. Micah started sleeping better. No, he didn’t start sleeping through the night (the truth is that he never slept through the night until he was 2 and didn’t start doing it consistently until he was 4), but he started sleeping enough for us to recognize that God answered our prayers. And that was a game changer.

It almost sounds crazy, but when we get to an impasse in conflict or desperation in our marriages, the most effective thing to do is to stop talking to each other. The most effective thing to do is first get on our knees, side by side, and throw that disagreement heavenward. Because when we come together before God, both equally acknowledging our own individual need for God to intervene in our lives and work in our own hearts, we make room for Him to come work between us. It levels us. We are no longer two Inflated Egos with enough heat to incinerate each other. Instead, we are two people bowing before an Almighty and Sovereign God. And if you’ve ever experienced that, you know it’s sobering.

Here’s the thing, though. We have to be humble. Remember this guy?

10 “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ 13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. (Luke 18:10-14)

Ok, so I’m going to just go ahead and admit it. When I’m reading a book or blog post and I come upon a long scripture like that, I usually skim it or skip it. Shame, shame on me! So if you’re like me and you just skipped over that verse, I’ll give you a second to go back and read it. We’re all about grace and second chances here. So…go ahead.

Ready? Good. Cause I wasn’t going to give you a third chance. I’m not holy enough to have that much patience yet.

It does us no good to pray together with self righteousness toward the other person like that Pharisee. He was so consumed with all the good he had done, and with all the bad that the tax collector must be, that God did not justify him. God knows I have tons of junk in my own heart to deal with, so why come before Him and put up a front like I’m so much better than Davy? No matter how much I’m putting in or how good I am, God knows that deep down I am still a sinner. In the same token, I’m neither responsible for Davy’s hangups, nor is it my job to stand before God and accuse Davy of everything I think is wrong with him. I’m responsible for my own heart, my own actions, my own choices. Like I tell my kids almost every day, the fruit of the Spirit includes self-control, not Micah-control, Norah-control, Davy-control, or control over any other person. So when we come together to pray, I have to use that self-control to choose to humble myself and acknowledge before God that I’m struggling, that I’m hurt, that I’m dealing with a bunch of junk, and let God work in me. 

Things started to change in our marriage after we began praying for Micah to sleep because we humbly began to allow God’s work in our own hearts. He answered our prayers for sleep, but He went beyond that and answered our hearts’ cries for wholeness and health toward each other. In those moments of bickering and anger, we allowed exhaustion to take the blame for our problems toward one another. But the truth is that we had selfishness and sin in our hearts. Coming together on a platform of praying for sleep opened the door for us to actually get healing and for God to begin to cleanse that ugliness from the inside out.

So here’s the point of this post. A praying marriage is a strong marriage. It may not be strong immediately. It may be an uphill climb, but consistently coming before God humbly and agreeing with one another that we can’t move forward without His help and guidance, will produce a strength that is unparalleled. I can’t tell you how many times we have seen tangible change in our relationship and our circumstances by committing to pray together every day. By recognizing together that we need God, that we don’t have all the answers, that we can’t come to a resolution or have any solutions on our own, we have seen God work incredible things in our lives. Like when we couldn’t, for the life of us, get Norah to stop trying to scratch Micah’s eyes out when she got mad. Like when we were in a job crisis and had to decide if Davy should dissolve his company and look for work elsewhere or move forward in his business on faith. Like when I was experiencing some troubling health problems and we couldn’t find a doctor who could give me answers. Life has thrown us some scary and interesting and confusing things, but God consistently comes through when we pray together. It has left us in awe.

Who needs candlelight when you have computerlight?

Who needs candlelight when you have computerlight?

So here’s my challenge to you: for the next thirty days, commit to praying together with your spouse for one thing. It can be small or big. It can be an issue in your relationship, with your kids, in work, in health, whatever. Come together humbly, acknowledging your need for God to intervene, and see what happens. He may not answer your prayers like you anticipate, but I know that He will meet you. He is good, and He is a rewarder of those who seek Him will all of their hearts.

(Feel free to take this challenge or leave it, but if you take it, I would love to hear how God has moved in your marriage!)

Like I said in the beginning, I am only an expert on my own marriage. Everybody’s relationship is different, and I can’t even begin to understand all the intricacies and history of your own story. But one thing remains true for all of us: God is faithful, and when we humbly bring our relationships to Him, He can work beautiful miracles.

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Almost 15 years later…

Davy and I are coming up on our 9th anniversary tomorrow, June 10. This is amazing in itself, but we also had five and a half years of dating behind us before we tied the knot. You know, at the ripe old ages of 20 and 21.

That’s a lot of numbers in just a few sentences. So for those of us who do not like math, Davy and I have been together for 14 and a half years. This is half of my life. From this year on, I will have been with Davy longer than I will have been without him. And you know what? That’s exactly how I like my life. I don’t always brag, but when I do, it’s about my incredibly awesome husband.

This is our first date, Homecoming 2001. The only reason I was allowed to go was because we "promised" my dad we were only going as "special friends."

This is our first date, Homecoming 2001. The only reason I was allowed to go was because we “promised” my dad we were only going as “special friends.”


Wedding day, June 10, 2006. The “special friends” thing worked out.

I’d like to think we’re particularly suited for each other. Like things are easy for us because we just naturally go together. Or like we were destined for each other – the one, my soulmate, made for each other. And while personalities play a part in how well you get along, I have to be real with you: sustaining a marriage is hard work. It’s not like the love feelings just magically carry you through, especially in the sleepless nights of colicky babies and kids throwing up, or the stress of going overbudget, or the past baggage of mistakes, lost trust, and hangups. Sorry, but there’s no such thing as a good marriage being carried by feeling in-love. But, good news! There is such a thing as a good marriage being carried by commitment to each other and to Jesus. And while I’m definitely in no way an expert on any one else’s marriage except for my own, I thought I’d share part of our story of how we came from pain and anger to real unity.

I’ve written about this before, but my favorite marriage advice came from my mother in law. It goes like this, “Remember you are on the same team.” Oh! How easy it was to be on the same team before we had kids! There was a lot less to fight about, and a lot more time to do our own thing. Being a non-confrontational person anyway, I let a lot of things slide because, hey, it wasn’t that bad. And then we had kids. And being “on the same team” was more like,

“Davy, we are on the same team, so get up and do things this very specific way that I will be completely controlling about.”

Or “We are on the same team, but I’m keeping count of how many diapers I’ve changed and how many hours less sleep I got compared to you, and since I’m putting in way more work , you owe me.”

Or “We are on the same team but I was home all day with this crying child and didn’t even have a chance to change my clothes and I can’t remember if I brushed my teeth. And you got to shower today, so already that means I generously watched the baby, so now I’m going to hold this over your head when you want to have half an hour to play video games.  And I know we are on the same team but I am totally begrudging the fact that you go play tennis, even though I really don’t want to exercise. But am holding it against you that I have this baby weight because I never have time to exercise.”

You know, we were on the same team. In a completely unfair, conditional, selfish, and accusatory way. For a long time we refused to see the best in each other because somehow it seemed that would lessen the importance of what we were putting in individually. As though recognizing what my husband does well means that all my work is worth less. And in the middle of all of our begrudging and accusing and fighting, we forgot that marriage is not a competition.

Marriage is not about pitting ourselves against each other and seeing who measures up the best. It’s not about holding a success stick up and showing how I rank higher than he does. See, we were being really good parents to our babies, but we were being really terrible people to each other. When things get tough and you have to continually put forth your best, it’s easy to take out your ugliness on the people close to you. That meant the only thing I ever showed Davy was the ugliness inside my heart, and part of that ugliness was engaging in an impossible competition.

Remember why you married your spouse? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because you thought, “Hey, this person is pretty great because I can totally beat him/her in everything, always.” And I’m pretty sure they didn’t marry you because they thought, “Hey, this person is pretty great because I’ll be able to win every time. Guaranteed success!” But after we had kids, that’s exactly how we were acting. He took out the trash and fixed the garage door? Obviously that means he doesn’t have to change the next poopy diaper. I did three thousand mountains of laundry and cleaned up all the spit up on the couch? Obviously that means he HAS to change the next poopy diaper. Obviously.

One day Davy said to me, “I really wish that when you asked me to do something, I would be happy to help you.” It’s like a light bulb went on in our hearts that showed us what we were doing. Instead of sowing value and blessing into each other’s lives, we were actively working to destroy each other and come out on top. Why would anyone ever want that? Nobody wants discord in their home.

Every relationship is about choice. You can choose to engage and invest or choose to be aloof. You can choose to love or choose to distance yourself. You can choose to be offended or choose to forgive. You can choose to compete or choose to support. The point is, you can choose. Yes, there is history. My friend, there may be heart wrenching pain, there may be terrible ugliness. But the beautiful thing is, God is a God of redemption, and He is actively waiting to help you. To redeem you and redeem the time that you have been at odds. He wants to restore you. Making choices toward life and forgiveness and love doesn’t justify past hurts from your spouse. But it can start you on a path toward reconciliation.

Davy and I started choosing to support each other instead of competing. I started expressing happiness for him when he or his team won their games. Thankful that he is so committed to showering everyday and not being smelly, even if I was smelly. Glad that he works hard for our family, even if that means he’s late for dinner. I even started letting him talk about website programming, even though I don’t know what the heck he’s saying…and wonder of wonders, when I listened, he started doing the dishes with me as he talked. He began asking me how I was doing and listening to me in all my long-winded glory, and let me tell you, it is long-winded. (But glorious, of course.) He started putting in more effort with the house and yard and kids. He started asking me how he could pray for me.

And the little things began to turn into big things. Our expectations of each other began to change from being demanding to being understanding. Instead of looking out for how the other person was failing, we began to appreciate each other and, wonder of wonders, even safeguard specific areas of each other’s lives. We knew we had come very far when, after Elena was about 10 months old, I willingly let him sleep in and he willingly changed her diapers, even though I’m usually a monster in the morning and sometimes he gags when he changes diapers. Plus, now that I’m not exerting so much energy being angry that I had to get up before him and calling up a thousand other reasons why I’m angry at him, I actually have the energy to wake up and just be half a monster. So, you know. Everybody wins.

And this brings me to the next huge change we made in our relationship: prayer. I started writing all about it and ended up with a novel. You would have experienced first hand my long windedness, and though it would have been quite glorious, I dare not put you to a test like Davy has been through. Pray for him, friends. He deals with me daily.

So be on the look out for part two. There may be a part three and a part four…depending on how deep a breath I can take.

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Grocery Shopping Day

I really dislike grocery shopping. There’s just something about going to a store, loading up my cart with a bunch of food, paying shocking amounts for this food, and then next week going back to the store and buying the same food again. I mean, something about this feels like insanity. Why does this food have to be “used up”? Why, oh why, must I go buy it again in just a few days?

Everything about grocery shopping makes me feel like I should grow my own food. Oh! I have such fond ideas of gardening! So peaceful, just me and the lovely greens basking in the sunlight, growing to sustain my family with wholesome goodness. Until I am face to face with the dirt. There is one thing worse than grocery shopping, and that is feeling dirt getting under my nails. And the thought that there might be bugs in that dirt where my hands are going.

So, I’m back at the grocery store. Today, as with most weeks, I had all three kids with me. Elena is strapped to my body because this leaves one less child who will attempt a cartwheel in the aisle. My usual go-to strategy is to pack enough snacks to stuff my older kids’ faces so they have less time to see all the beautiful packaging of the junk I never let them buy. This cuts down my “No, we will not buy that” repetition to about half. Even still, they’re getting smarter as they get older and know what kinds of things I’m a sucker for.

“Mom, can we buy more tea so we can have a tea party with you when we get home?”  A tea party! They played the tea party card! So we buy more tea.

Today was an exceptionally long trip, despite my enthusiastic encouragement of “Let’s make this the shortest shopping day ever!” Not only have they completely rearranged the store so that I am totally lost, I have to endure the half smiles of the re-stockers who have seen me eight times in the span of four minutes.

“We must be really lost in this store, Mom. Aren’t we lost? Oh! Samples! Wait. We already got those samples a couple times. Nevermind.”

I’m thankful that my older kids have learned well the rules of shopping, which go something like this: If you throw a fit, we go home. If you run away or do karate at the cereal or a person, you’re confined to the cart. Eat your snack.

Elena hasn’t learned these rules yet, which is mostly ok because she can’t really walk or talk anyway. Except that today she decided she wouldn’t use her baby sign anymore and that screaming at me for more snack is a way better choice. I didn’t really agree with her, and unfortunately for the other lady in the baking aisle, we parked by the flour and Elena and I had to get down to business. An 11 month old is not an easy contender, but I am happy to report that she miraculously remembered her baby sign after several minutes of not being able to reach the puffs herself. (This isn’t the first time Elena and I have parked in this store. Last time we spent about fifteen minutes next to the chips while I bounced up and down and sang her to sleep. I get a lot of looks when I’m shopping.)


In any case, despite being slow and circular, our shopping trip was pretty uneventful until we reached the coffee. To my utter delight, there was a sale on my coffee, and to my great despair, they were out of it! Is there any crueler fate? After all this work to go shopping in the first place, to return without coffee is like a punch in the gut. After much agitated looking for someone who worked there (“Quick, Mom! There’s someone who works here! Run after her!”), we had to wait almost 30 minutes for them to discover if they had more in the back. But wait we did because, um, coffee.


As we stood there, it was all I could do to keep my patience. I was hot and hungry, extremely done with shopping, and frustrated at how long they were taking. Norah put her head on my hand and said, “I am so so so tired of this.” Micah started singing a song very loudly about eating blueberries in a shed, followed by even louder yawns and equally loud declarations of all the tricks he would play on me to get me to make coffee for him, should we ever be able to get coffee again. And I realized that with all the frustration I was feeling, my poor kids must be feeling it more. I’m a grown up, after all, and have had many opportunities to wait through frustration. And while I don’t always have the best attitude, I have a little more experience to deal. But looking back over the day, I recognize the good that moments of frustration like this one add to our day. It wasn’t fun (and I confess to sending text messages to my mom along the lines of “I HATE GROCERY SHOPPING.”), but it made us practice our patience. It gave me the opportunity to share with Norah that no, she may not pull her brother’s hair because she’s bored, because Jesus wants us to be kind even if we are bored. It carved space into my day to listen undividedly to Micah’s excruciatingly long dream about Mario. It gave me time to caress Elena’s hair while she slept on me. All in all, today gave me moments that I otherwise would not have taken advantage of. It gave me a chance to remember that my kids are people too, and to treat them like people who matter, not just gloss over them in the midst of my frustration.

When we finally got the coffee, Micah hugged it and declared he would drink the whole bag when we got home, and I silently declared the same. And I might have also made chocolate crepes to go with our tea party because, um, grocery shopping day.

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“Easter is the most important holiday we have.”

“It is?! More than Christmas?! WHY?!”

Micah couldn’t believe me. Mind blown. Easter is the most important holiday for us because without the resurrection, our faith is worthless. Jesus died for our sins, but if He had stayed dead? We would also die in our sin and everything we believe about God would be for naught. Don’t take my word for it. Paul said:

14 And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith.
17 And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins.
(1 Corinthians 15)

Without the resurrection, there would be no power in our faith, no grace for our weakness, no salvation from sure death. Without the resurrection, evil wins.

But because Jesus rose from the dead, good triumphs. After taking every evil onto Himself and dying so that the evil would also die, Jesus, in perfect and complete power, triumphed over death itself by coming back. He gathered everything terrible that had ever happened, was happening, and would happen, gave Himself as the absolute necessary blood sacrifice to pay for all of the horrific evil, and then returned in ultimate victory. For you. For me.

Because of the resurrection, we can be cleansed from our sin (or the “yuckies in our hearts,” as Norah says)

Because of the resurrection, we can receive grace to have full relationship with God again.

Because of the resurrection, we can receive power to overcome sin.

Because of the resurrection, the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead can live in us.

Because of the resurrection, we can live in freedom, from sin and habits and hurts, because where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

Because of the resurrection, we can live!

We can live, my friends. Jesus died so I don’t have to. Jesus died so you don’t have to. He took our punishment and instead handed us life, and life abundantly. Our Savior is alive, and He invites us to live with Him!

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Living Grace by Grace

“Mom? Is Jesus bigger than monsters?”

Norah and I usually have important conversations like this when she’s sitting on the toilet.

“Yes, honey. He is.”

“Then why does He always look like…regular size in the Bible?”

Looking back, I really should’ve taken the opportunity here to reinforce that monsters are not, in fact, real. I didn’t. Instead I launched into a big, theological explanation about spiritual bodies and how God took on a man body when He came to save us so that He could identify with us in all things. Hmmm…Well, in any case, she was happy with my answer because we ended by singing He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands.

Lately I have felt like our life is in upheaval. Scratch that. I’ve felt like that since we added another child to our family and we became a circus act. As I’m sure so many of you can identify, some days it’s all I can do to get the kids dressed. What the heck am I doing with the rest of our day? I’m not sure…except it may include one of the following: pulling out my hair, crying or holding a child who is, singing Elena’s name to the tune of thirty different songs, enthusiastically encouraging them to SLOW DOWN or CHILL OUT, fishing unknown and slimy objects out of my baby’s mouth, or playing Octonauts (“the one where Barnacles is asleep and it’s Tweak’s birthday” *Disclaimer: this episode doesn’t exist. I always play it wrong because I have no idea what is supposed to happen because it is not a real story. But apparently the story is real and the same in both of my kids’ minds.*). In any case, there is one thing that is the same every single day. The grace of Jesus. I cling to it like my life depends on it. Because it literally does. I cannot step forward in my day, my home, my relationships with my family unless grace has made a stepping stone for me first. The days that I try…whew. Those are bad days.


And I think that’s why we’ve been having more conversations about God lately too. As I’m clinging to Jesus in every single second, it seems that He broadens the grace stone to include my children, and our atmosphere becomes safe to explore questions. Yes, I’m clinging to Him for a bucket load of patience and wisdom, desperate for His presence because I’m only human in a home with three “silly souls,” as Norah says. His presence comes with His gift of grace, and I can see them being drawn to Him.

If there’s anything I’m learning in this season, it’s to seize the moment to talk about Jesus. I need His grace moment by moment, so why wouldn’t they? And why not teach them to turn toward Him or think about Him in connection with every day things? By infusing our day with references to Jesus, saying things like “Oh, the Bible talks about that too!” when they bring up things about nature or people, or even showing them in the Bible what God says about their sin provides fodder for their thoughts. You’d be amazed at how much kids think about things and mull over them if you talk about them often enough. They aren’t too small to begin to understand and to begin to come to conclusions about God on their own.

The other day I got really mad because Norah was picking fights with Micah and knowingly pushing his buttons just to make him cry. I had tried disciplining and talking and having them reenact the fight with her doing the right thing instead of the wrong thing, but nothing worked. Finally I sat her down and showed her in Proverbs where it says God hates when people knowingly cause strife with each other. It was kind of a last resort, I’m-outta-ideas-here, plan. But, surprisingly, she really listened to me. I could see that she heard me and she realized it was serious. It hasn’t completely stopped the behavior, but she has brought it up to me several times. Taking the time to infuse the moment with Jesus helped her realize that her actions affect others in a bigger way, not just that she’ll get into trouble with Mommy if Mommy hears her being ugly.

But infusing the moment with Jesus and His grace extends beyond discipline. I overheard Norah all alone in the bathroom singing about why we worship Him, telling all her barrettes to worship too. It inspires beautiful conversations about what God is like and how He has brought us freedom from sin, though sometimes the questions they ask can be hard to answer. I love knowing that Jesus has grace with me when I am confused or struggling with something, so I can extend that grace to my kids when they bring up something they don’t understand about God or about why we have sin or why bad things happen. I don’t have to have all the answers, but I also don’t have to feel stressed or pressured to “set them straight” when they have genuine questions. Grace for all of us means that I can be open that I’m still learning and growing too, always pointing to a good God who willingly and gently teaches us.


I’m not gonna lie, though. Sometimes the questions stump me or make me realize I better up my game. Like when Micah asked tonight, “Mom, how can Jesus like, hold the world in His hands and still be inside it?” And sometimes…well, sometimes we have conversations like this:

Me: The armor of God is the helmet of salvation, the breastplate of righteousness —
Micah: The breast milk of righteousness?!?

And I think God and I have a pretty good laugh. So when I’m singing Elena’s name, I sing that Jesus loves her. When I’m playing the mystery Octonauts episode, sometimes they pray for help to accomplish their mission. When we’re struggling through “BIG EMOTIONS”, we remember that God also has big emotions, but He helps us control them. And when some of our conversations turn silly, we laugh with Jesus because He has a sense of humor too. We are learning to live moment by moment, grace by grace.

PS. Here’s another picture of my cute baby.Why yes, those are pants hanging out of the Duplo bin. And no, I’m not totally positive as to whether they are clean or dirty.


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Let’s Make a Deal

I’m about to tell you one of my most favorite parenting decisions I’ve ever made. No, it’s not the hidden sock basket, though that is one of my favorites. (FYI: Kids don’t put dirty socks in the laundry basket. But they DO put them in the secret hidden sock basket in the living room. Because it’s a secret basket. Like a treasure chest…but with dirty socks.)

One of my most favorite parenting decisions is to make a deal. Have you ever tried letting your kids in on the discipline/consequence process? I don’t do it with everything, obviously, but there are certain issues that are resolved much easier and quicker when I let my kids in on creating the consequences.

One day awhile ago I was extremely tired of Micah’s whining. I had tried everything to stop it, and my ears were bleeding. Finally, quite by accident, I said to him, “Micah, I can’t handle your whining anymore! What are we going to do to get you to stop?!” And he replied, “Well, Mommy, maybe I just have to hop around the circle every time I do it.”

I honestly didn’t think it would work, especially because none of my very smart and perfectly thought out consequences had helped. But I was desperate, so we tried it. Every time those whinies came out, all I said was, “Hop the circle” in response, and he immediately got up, hopping like a rabbit all the way through the kitchen, down the hall, and back to me. It didn’t matter what he was doing, he dropped it and hopped. Let me tell you what, it worked like a charm! By the time he got back to me, not only was he out of breath to even try whining, but he couldn’t remember why it was worth whining about to begin with. Plus, it made me laugh.

And since then, whenever there is a non-serious issue that I can’t make a breakthrough in, I invite them to help me. We strike a deal: you help create the consequence, I help enforce the consequence, we all abide by the rules of the consequence. See, it seems to me that when I hand over some of the control in creating the rule, they take more ownership over it and more initiative in following it. They also seem to follow it easier and quicker when I’m not there to enforce it because part of it has come from their hearts.

For example, Norah loves her long hair. Loves Loves Loves. But she HATES when I brush it or pull it up, or wash it, for that matter.
This is an old picture, but this is her real bed head, my friends. This is real trouble. So we struck a deal. IF she lets me wash her hair the night before, she gets to wear it down. IF she doesn’t let me wash her hair, I pull it up, and she gets to pick the barrette. We both follow the rules of this deal, and she gets all the choosing. No more struggle.

Another deal we have is Pennies at Dinner. I’m not sure if this happens at your house, but dinner chairs at my house apparently contain secret springs that shoot my children out of them as soon as they sit down. No amount of convincing keeps my kids sitting. So we struck a deal. It goes like this: you, child, get five pennies. Each time you get down, you give me one. If you go through dinner with all five pennies, you get to buy a candy from me. If you lose all five pennies, you get to have trouble.

“Pennies! CANDY!” yell my children.
“SIT!” yells their mother.

And they sit. And to date, Micah has never lost a penny, and Norah has only ever lost two. (And for the record, a candy is equivalent to one chocolate chip or one miniature candy cane. My poor, poor children. They have no idea how minuscule that is.)

I’m really into teaching my kids responsibility and obedience from the heart. I want them to know that rules are for reasons, like keeping them safe or keeping the family running smoothly, not just because mom likes to be mean. So in handing them partial control for non-serious issues, they get to evaluate the situation, be creative in coming up with possible solutions, and recognize the need for the rule to begin with. When they do this, it helps them to feel the responsibility for follow-through on their own. They’re not just going to get in trouble for disobeying, they’re actually letting themselves down because they know internally that they are doing something wrong. They get to experience the natural consequences of not following the rules.

The wonderful thing for me in all this is that I get to simply follow the rules too. It takes the power struggle out of it because we came up with it together. When Norah lost those two pennies, she didn’t want to give them to me. I geared myself up for a battle, but when I said, “Norah, that’s the deal, remember? Every time you get up, you give me a penny. That’s just how it goes with Pennies at Dinner,” she begrudgingly gave me two pennies, without a fight.

Sometimes the deals don’t work, so we throw them out. But when we hit on a good one that helps solve an issue that’s causing everyone frustration, we all win. And we all grow through the issue, eventually coming out of needing it all together. Micah never hops the circle anymore, and I’ve stopped saying, “Hop the circle!” in my sleep.


It Just Isn’t A Thing.

So we’ve been doing this three-kid thing for about six months now. And let me tell you what has become one of my main goals in the day: minimize the drama, man. For reals, though. The drama around here can get pretty deep. or steep. or something.

Now I’m actually all about walking through feelings with my kids. I try to make time for that in our day so that we learn how to communicate well and they feel like we are a safe place to express themselves. But here are some “feelings” we’ve been feeling lately.

Me: Ok, go brush your teeth.
Child who shall not be named, bursting into tears: IT HURTS MY FEELINGS WHEN YOU TELL ME THAT!

Child A: I’m pretending to be a super hero!

If you hadn’t noticed, we use a lot of caps around here. One day, out of partial craziness, I made up a song that says, “If you want to cry, poke yourself in the eye. But don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.” They think it’s hilarious until I sing it to them, at which point it makes them cry. And sometimes one kid will recommend that I sing it to the other kid during a meltdown…which often makes it worse.

In any case, being up to the ceiling in drama, I’ve been trying to think of ways to bring it down. While some tears are legitimate, some of them are over things that aren’t really…well, Things. So I’ve been trying this lately, “Oh, babe, that’s not actually a Thing.” Like when I say it’s time to get shoes on to leave the house, and they start to fight me, I say in a totally pleasant voice, “oh, that’s not really a Thing. We aren’t actually going to fuss about that.” And I move on. And you know? Maybe it’s because they’re so surprised (or maybe it’s because I use The Force), but they move on too.

I’m not really recommending that you try this (but if you do and it works for your kid, let me know!), but I’m more writing about it because I think it’s hilarious that it works. Of course, if there’s a real issue, then we definitely take the time to work it through. But I’ve decided that those non issues are no longer Things.

For example, I’ve stopped asking my kids to clean up and help me set the table. They kept turning that into a Thing, and I was tired of fighting. So instead, it’s not a Thing anymore. I just call them to me and start a conversation, and in the course of the conversation, I hand them dinner plates and forks and cups, or piles of laundry and toys, casually directing where they are to go. And the times they’ve stopped talking long enough to fight with me, I simply tell them, “Oh this isn’t really a Thing. Take this to the table while you tell me more about Mario.” The art of distraction. Like a Ninja.

They’ve been fighting a lot lately too, and partially I think it’s just because they don’t know what to play next. Obviously there are fights I have to mediate. But doggone it, the fights born of boredom or plain old pettiness aren’t worth it, and learning all the sides doesn’t really help anything because they just want to be dramatic. So when that happens, it’s just not a Thing anymore. I’ll tell them, “Guys, we don’t treat each other that way in our family. We just don’t. It’s not ok to fight, and this isn’t going to be a Thing anymore. Don’t do it again.” And sometimes, like a miracle, it works. Sometimes it works just long enough for me to leave the room. But sometimes it really does work.

And eating. OH. MY. GOSH. One of my children has started crying, “I don’t like this! I never like this!” before I even have a chance to put it on the table. The list of vegetables I could use could be counted on one hand. I started missing them. Dreaming of them. Longing for them. So, it’s no longer a Thing around here. I cook with every vegetable that sounds good to me. Take that, tiny people! And when the whining starts about what they see on the table, I tell them, “Oh, we aren’t going to make this a Thing. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.” I do have a stipulation here, though, which is I only cook one dinner, and yes, peanut butter sandwiches count as cooking. Oh, and dinner time is family time, not whiny, go away and play time. So they gotta sit with me while I thoroughly enjoy my food. Now, I know this may sound harsh, but I’ll tell you how it’s worked for us: they eat dinner every night. With me. With minimal whining. Sometimes there is a pile of unliked vegetables on a napkin next to their plate (but not ON their plate. Because that is sacrilegious). But they eat, and actually hardly any one complains anymore because they know my answer: Oh, this isn’t going to be a Thing. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.

Trust me when I say I’m not flippant about my kids’ feelings. But I realized that I’ve been feeding some drama through my responses, and often these are the dramas that don’t need to be Things anyway. And honestly, through saying this to my kids, I’ve realized some of my own Things that I have had to give up. Like the pouty attitude I get when Elena doesn’t nap as long as I’d like. Instead of getting grumpy and mulling over how much I couldn’t get done, I have to put my grown up pants on. This just isn’t a Thing, Kim. Or how unbearably long it takes us to get through a store. Sometimes I just want to sob all my feelings to the cashier because we’ve been there for three hours and I stood through a long line with three crying kids and I just realized I forgot the celery that my kids will pick out of their soup tonight. But I have been telling myself, “This doesn’t have to be a Thing, Kim.” Because it doesn’t. There are enough Things in life that are inevitable that I don’t need to make anymore for myself. And there are enough Things that my kids have to learn and grow through that I don’t have to allow unimportant stuff to become more Things.

I’ve been working to pare down our lives to what’s important and not. Fighting isn’t. Drama isn’t. Showing patience and boundaries is. So even if I refuse to take up some of the Things that my kids want to cry over, placing that boundary around us for next time is good for them. And good for my sanity. Because my sanity….well, that should be a Thing.

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The Clash of the Personalities


There are some battles that I always determined to win. There are some that I always felt could be negotiable. And there are some that I never expected to fight, most of which I have come away waving the white flag.

I’m not sure how the thought escaped me that I may have a child with a very different personality than mine. In my beautiful, peaceful, serene dreams of parenthood before I ever had a baby, my children were always compatible with my personality. Sure, we would have to establish discipline and rules, but after that, we would always get along. Downright smooth sailing.

Enter: my child with a completely different personality than me.

If you’ve read any of my posts about muddling through discipline with my two year old, you may have picked up on this before I ever did. But once I realized it, life is a whole new world. Not usually always in an easy way, but now I’m trying to approach things differently to help us both to thrive instead of clash over and over and over.

Ok, I admit. We sometimes still clash over and over and over. But now I can approach the clashes (or aftermath) with some levelheadedness and solutions instead of feeling completely helpless. This is what I’m trying to do:


1. Realize my child is an individual, not an intentional source of conflict. This means that often the way she is acting is because she’s wired differently than me. Even though our personalities may clash, her actions and reactions aren’t necessarily always an attempt to buck my authority. In the same way that I may not understand why she reacts to something a certain way, she may not understand why I’m acting or disciplining this way either. This potential for misunderstanding has led to so many huge outbursts between us that could have been avoided had I stopped to remember that this approach is actually part of how she is wired. When I realize that she isn’t (always) trying to just be a little stink to me, then I can be more patient and gracious in how I respond.

2. Do my research. Once I realized that Norah is not only the namesake of my sister, but also her carbon copy, I was able to pinpoint so much of why we struggle. As kids, my sister and I fought like cats, but after we learned how to relate to each other in high school and adulthood, we have been able to become very close. I’ve spent several a long conversation with her on how her personality works, what makes it tick, and how to get through on a level that make sense and sticks. Knowing and understanding the aspects of a personality that seems to foreign to me has helped me to recognize when these triggers pop up and how to approach them so they don’t explode. There are quite a few books out there about how to determine your child’s personality, as well as free online Myers-Briggs and other types of personality tests. I’m planning to read and do some of these things as Norah gets older to help me better understand her as she solidifies more of her personality.

3. Realize the strengths of her personality, and celebrate and encourage them. Sometimes the strengths of another personality can show up in unmanaged or rough ways. Like a diamond that isn’t always beautiful in the middle of the rough, these strengths have to be worked on in order to be used well. Sometimes, they are downright frustrating to me because I don’t understand them well. But choosing to recognize them as strengths, instead of seeing them as conflict and trying to shut them down because they don’t match with my personality, allows me to invest in the person God created my child to be. Instead of creating patterns of frustration and negativity in her, I can encourage her to walk in her strengths within healthy boundaries. For example, it’s a big deal when she feels wronged. Not only does she outburst, but she wants the wrong to be righted. This can be a huge challenge when she is so focused on the wrong being atoned for, and it can be frustrating. Until I remember that it isn’t just that she wants it to be fixed, it’s that her personality is justice oriented. If I realize that being justice oriented can be an asset to her and that it also is accompanied by a bigger heart of compassion for those who are being wronged than any I could ever muster, then I can see the beauty of that diamond in the middle of the current rough and work toward drawing it out instead of throwing it out.

4. Discipline based on building character. I try to do this anyway, but with a conflicting personality, it helps me to focus on what to discipline for, instead of disciplining whenever we have a clash. We want to build solid, godly character into our kids – respect, responsibility, kindness, patience, a good work ethic, etc. Because this is our goal, we try to tailor our discipline for building those things, choosing character battles instead of, say, fashion or food battles. I never expected to have such a struggle over clothes and hair with my daughter – I always thought I would let her choose but still have the influence to help things, you know, match. But often we struggle because she wants to pick the thing that I specifically don’t want or like just because I don’t want or like it. This especially drove me crazy on Sundays. Seriously, who lets their daughter wear jeggings and tennis shoes with dress socks under a frilly pink dress, without combed hair to church? Me, apparently. I finally let go and don’t even give an opinion about her clothes anymore because it isn’t worth it. As long as her attitude toward me isn’t ugly or spiteful, I’ll wave my white flag for fashion and not even think about a time out for not wearing matching clothes to church. On the other hand, if she decides to scream ugly words at one of us, we discipline for treating us wrongly.

5. Recognize the pitfalls of my own personality, and work toward growth in those areas. There are so many things I struggle with, and the weaknesses of my own temperament are often exposed when we are in a conflict. Just because I’m the mom doesn’t mean I am always right or always deal with things rightly. I have to be careful not to teach my kids weakness in these areas as well. For example, I have a tendency to struggle with fear. My personality tends to look at things through a lens of disaster preparation. But to my wild and carefree two year old, my constant irrational warnings (“don’t climb on that, you can fall and get tangled and we’d have to call the fire department to cut you free!”) can implant a fearful tendency that would normally be absent in her personality. By seeing both of our strengths and weaknesses realistically, I can tailor my responses to help teach her strength in areas where where she is weak, and receive from her where she can really impart strength into my weaknesses. Because, honestly, I could really benefit from some of that wild and carefree spirit.

Walking in peace with our kids often means making sacrifices for them. Sacrificing our time and energy to learn about who they are and how they work can only be a benefit to our relationships and to their futures. It’s my goal to invest my heart into each of my children, tailoring my interactions with them to show them their value to me. So far each one is very different from me and from each other, but that just means we reap a beautiful complexity in our family, one that speaks volumes to a creative God. I want to encourage that complexity instead of stifle it and celebrate our differences instead of bemoan them. Even if that does mean going to church with dress socks with tennis shoes.



When Fear Comes Knocking


Tonight I’m going to write about something near but not so dear to my heart.


It seems like the world has gone crazy over the last few years. Maybe it’s always been crazy and I just didn’t realize it, or maybe it’s a new feeling of crazy because now I have kids. The possibilities of death and disease and kidnapping and abuse that could snatch my children away from me are overwhelming. And, to be honest, can be quite paralyzing. If I let myself think for even two minutes about the ways the world can grab my kids, I end up on the twisty slide of horrible fear. It starts as that gripping feeling in the pit of my stomach, and much like heartburn, travels it’s way up my chest and throat, and eventually springs out my eyes as a gush of uncontrollable tears.

Anyone else know what I’m talking about?

Now I talk about this because I deal with it, not because I’ve overcome it. Fear trots alongside me like that obnoxious stray dog who thinks it’ll get fed if it sticks around long enough. And to be sure, each time I glance down to make sure it’s still there, I encourage it to get a little closer and a little closer. If I’m not actively sending it away, it becomes my constant companion.

Tell me if I’m wrong, but fear steals. It steals the joy of the moment because our thoughts are consumed with the future. It steals peace because our hearts are intent on living in a scenario where there is no peace. It steals thankfulness because all we can think about is what we don’t have in that imaginary scenario. Be it sickness or death or separation, or whatever, we imagine a situation where we are without. Without peace, without love, without joy, without comfort, without hope, without life.

But wait, aren’t we robbing ourselves of those things when we give our minds and hearts over to fear anyway? If my mind is there instead of here, what is filling it? That peaceless, loveless, joyless, hopeless scenario that may never come true.

See, God is really, really good at giving us grace for our circumstances. But He doesn’t ever give us grace for the ones that are not here. Why would He give me the grace to handle a situation that I’m imagining? Here’s the flipside to that: every time I let fear plant a what-if in my mind, I imagine the worst. I imagine a scenario that lacks God’s grace to carry me through. That’s what fear, and our old enemy, wants to do. To plant a seed of distrust in our hearts: if ______ comes true, God will not carry me through it.

But dear friends, that is the old lie. I struggle to remember and to set my heart on this truth: that if we or our children encounter any of the horrible things happening, be it sickness or death or pain or suffering, the grace of God will wrap around our hurting shoulders and carry us through the thick of the suffering. God doesn’t give us grace for the imaginations of our fearful hearts, but He does give us grace for the real struggles we do and will face.

When two of our good friends died from cancer, battling long and hard against it, I watched as God’s insurmountable grace carried both families. This nightmare was horrific, but God had not abandoned them. In the middle of all my fears, I have to remember that God will not abandon me either.

I can’t answer exactly why God allows terrible things to happen. But instead of dwelling on the why, I can look to the overwhelming evidence that He remains present to get us through them.

So to the fears that pile up against me, to that stray dog I abhor, to that rising feeling of panic that I despise, I turn my back. When fear comes knocking at my door, I’m learning to let Jesus answer it. There should be no room in my heart for them, only for the peace that comes with knowing my Savior, and the joy that comes from His grace for the present.


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