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| "I'm Sorry" Doesn't Do It by Tracy McLean When I was a child my sister and I occasionally fought as most children do. She learned early on that my mother would not allow any retaliation, so one of her favorite tricks was to come up behind me and hit me, then run like crazy for Mom. I would arrive right behind her breathing fire and itching to whack her. Mom wouldn't allow that so she usually got a talking to and was told to tell me, "I'm Sorry." You can imagine how authentic her apology was--NOT! She was smart enough to not overdo it (as in everyday) but often enough that it left a bad memory and a belief that "I'm sorry," doesn't mean a whole lot. When I became a mother, I had a list of things I would not do the way my mother had. That list is in shreds now and I often find myself responding to situations exactly as my mother did. But not in the case of saying "I'm sorry." In our house if you offend your brother, you can't just say, "I'm sorry." You have to ask forgiveness specifically for what you did. This usually happens after a parent-to-child discussion, a process that takes more time than I feel I have. But it's always worth taking the time to see a changed heart. Then the offender must go to the offended and say "I'm sorry, _________, for hitting you in the arm when I got angry," or "...for breaking your toy," or "... for using your stuff without permission," or "...for stealing your candy," and so on. By acknowledging exactly what he did that was wrong, the offender takes responsibility for it and then we move on to restitution, if that is required. When one child got into another's Christmas stocking candy, he had to use his own money to buy and replenish four times the amount he had eaten. That hurts when you think you could have bought yourself four times the amount you stole! What I appreciate most is that now they are older they often initiate the process on their own, going to each other and asking forgiveness in sincerity. It has taught them respect for each other and to take responsibility for their actions. In angry moments we are all prone to forget what is right and good. Asking for specific forgiveness heals breaches in relationships and shows others that you really do mean "I'm sorry." A Mom Can Get Worn Out by Jessica Banister ebb YoAs I sit here and write this, my youngest child, Daniel, age 4, is sleeping next to me in our home office. I've been up most of the night with him because he's not feeling well. I am completely exhausted, but kept awake with worry for my son. It's just a cold and fever, but a mother tends to worry when her children are sick.
Having been up all night like this and spending a good chunk of time on the phone with the advice nurse, it occurs to me that maybe I should pray for my little one. Paul writes in Philippians 4:6 "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God and the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Unfortunately, prayer is often one of the last things I think of as a course of action in any given situation. With so much at stake, a peace of God beyond understanding, I find myself asking why I don't pray more.
My mom once told me, "Worry is like a rocking chair, it gives you something to do, but doesn't get you anywhere." I think we often stick to our worry rocking chair as if it were actually doing some good. In fact we'd be much more productive if we left our worry in God's capable hands. I don't know about you, but I sure could use some of the kind of peace that transcends all understanding!
On that note, I'm going to go pray for my little man, then lie down on the couch next to him and try to get some sleep. I'll be more useful to my family when I wake up.
Your Child Did What? by Jessica Banister When I was a child I learned to play the flute. Until I entered high school it wasn't very competitive. Once I became a freshman it was clear that I had a passion for music. After receiving years of private lessons I competed in several solo contests within my district, won, and was able to go on to the state competition.
While I enjoyed learning about the music and bettering my skills, I didn't necessarily enjoy the competition. Many of the other flute players were in it to win, no matter what. Some of them looked down on me as if I wasn't "as good" as them. I didn't usually let it bother me, but sometimes it made me feel terrible about my abilities, despite the fact that I was competing on their same level.
My ambition was to be a professional flutist in some big symphony somewhere. Once out of high school, I decided with my husband that it was more important to us to start a family while we were young. I still play my flute often, but I chose not to make it my career. Part of me was glad I'd never have to compete again.
Then I became a mother. I never imagined how competitive motherhood could be. It seemed that every time I mentioned an accomplishment my child had made, someone else's child has done better. If my child started sleeping through the night at 6 weeks, someone else's child was sleeping through the night at 4 weeks. It was like that song, "Anything you can do, I can do better..."! The worst part of all this? I was sometimes doing the same thing! After all, I'm not a perfect mother either.
Being a mom is a hard job! I don't think it will ever get easy, but it would be much better if we could learn to build one another up instead of competing. I think it's so important to have other mothers in your life who will support and encourage you. I don't know what I'd do with out my "mommy friends." They understand what I'm going through like nobody else can.
God tells us repeatedly to encourage one another and build one another up. So the next time a friend tells me about the "amazing" thing her child has done, I'm going to tell her she's a great mother and her child is doing wonderfully well. Once she gets past the shock, I'm sure she will feel great. And I will have given her a precious gift.
Fear, Anxiety, and T-Ball by Heidi McLaughlin My five-year-old son, William has enjoyed his daddy Bill's softball games in the summers since he was two. He charmed everyone in the crowd at their Championship game running around the bases afterwards. I have eagerly waited the time when he would be old enough to play on his own team. This February we went down together and signed him up for t-ball. When we got the call in March that the first practice had been scheduled, William said , "Mom, why do you want me to play t-ball so much?" I told him that I thought he would love it. He started to cry and said he didn't want to. Bill and I sat down with him and talked with him about it. His reason was that he was scared. Bill told him we weren't going to let him out of it if the only reason was fear. "Give it a try and then if you don't want to do it, you can stop."
Fear. Even courageous people deal with it on a daily basis. I have cheated myself out of many experiences and friendships that would have made my life richer because I was afraid. I have also stood by silently when I should have spoken up for something or someone.
I try to instill biblical truth into my children to help them get through the long dark night when they think they hear or see something scary. I hope that learning to deal with the small, seemingly insignificant fears will help them later when they begin to deal with the fears of adult life.
William was full of anxiety on the way to his first t-ball practice. He walked in with his fingers in his mouth and hanging back. I know that, given the choice, he would have run to the van and never looked back. It is hard to describe what took place in that little boy during that first practice. He absolutely came alive!
He asked me every single day the next week, "Do I have practice tonight?" On the way to his next practice he was full of pent-up excitement, practically dancing in his car seat. His third practice was cancelled and he cried, this time tears of bitter disappointment.
Just as I knew he would, William loves t-ball. It was a wonderful learning experience for him because we were able to have a conversation about how the first time we do something we will feel nervous and afraid but it usually isn't all that bad. This small experience with conquering his fear will surely help him on his journey toward casting aside other fears and becoming a strong, courageous man of God.
Grandmothers Matter Too
In October I cared for the two oldest, the English ones now living in New Jersey, while my daughter took her husband to Iceland for his birthday. For several years I've given them an appropriate daily devotional, with stickers to put on each page as completed. Nine-year-old Alex showed me his book, with a lump in the spot he has been attaching the stickers! At bedtime we read their devotionals, then I asked if they'd like me to share a children's devotional, "You Want Me to Do What?!" written by Cheryl Crane. (What kid doesn't want to extend bedtime rituals?) On our last night alone they asked about references the devotional made to finding out more about having Jesus in charge of your life. At the back of the book it explained our need for a savior. My granddaughter, 11 year-old Corrina, said, "Wait. I thought you just had to work to be good enough to go to heaven." Once that was straightened out, I read the children's version of the sinner's prayer, as suggested there. When I finished, Alex whispered, "Grammi, I prayed that prayer with you." Corrina snuggled closer," Me, too." I let out a whoop and hugged them both, welcoming them to the Big Family.
Every day for years now I have prayed for my grandchildren to know the Lord as their savior and serve him with their lives. It is wonderful to see those prayers answered. And the way he did it was quite amazing.
You see, about 15 years ago, that same Cheryl Crane was a bright young intellectual who, along with her husband, was in a home fellowship group with us. That was her introduction to Bible study and a deepening faith. How wonderful that now, these years later, her children's devotional should be instrumental in bringing my oldest grandchildren to an expression of faith!
Questions for discussion:
How has someone significantly influenced your faith?
Is there someone in your life for whom you can be an eternal influence?
Fear in the Eyes of a Child Jessica Banister My husband, Eric, and I have been married for eight years. While I don't feel that is much to brag about, it's a lot longer than many people these days stay married. We love each other deeply and that love seems to grow and change with every year that passes. However, marriage is hard work, and it's even harder when you have little eyes watching your every mistake, and very likely learning to make the same mistakes themselves.
The last couple years have been really tough for us. It's not easy raising a family on one income with the economy in this state. And financial problems just increase the stress on our marriage. When there's great stress on our marriage, we fight.
It's devastating to look down in the middle of a heated argument with your spouse and see your toddler holding your leg and crying. I'll never forget that face. The poor child had fear in his eyes, and it nearly killed me. We who were supposed to provide a secure place to grow and learn and love were making our child feel threatened instead. What kind of example was I setting by yelling at his daddy? What was I teaching him about what marriage should look like? I was horrified!
It has been a real challenge to set a good example of marriage when we're struggling to keep it together. We want to, but how do a couple of sinners do that?
Here's what we are doing. We've reached out to people at our church who are willing to keep us accountable. We meet every other week with another couple a few years more experienced than we are. They make sure we are communicating in a healthy manner as well as offer advice on many aspects of life. Each of us has an individual mentor also to meet with weekly. They keep us accountable on a more personal level. So far, it's been really great! We are able to talk about frustrating subjects without fighting, and we seem to be getting along better than we used to.
It's an exciting thing to see happening in our lives. We both feel as though we're on the right path to creating a home our children will remember with gratitude. No more angry yelling. No more little children traumatized with fear. No life-long regrets. A Little Child Shall Lead Them Jane Foard Thompson My second child, Tracey was born with webbed toes, one toe enlarged beyond the big toe. As she grew, that toe grew even faster than the others and became more and more prominent.
When Tracey was four, a new family moved in next door. To welcome them, we baked fresh bread and took them a loaf. Tracey and the new neighbor girl stared at each other while the mother and I chatted. I suppose, deciding that we were people she wanted to get to know better, the mother leaned down to her daughter. "Why don't you take Tracey out to your trampoline, Sarah?" She opened the screen door and the girls ran outside. We watched through the kitchen window as they climbed up and began to jump.
Suddenly, Tracey stopped and pointed at Sarah's left arm, which ended at the elbow. "What happened to your arm?" she asked.
Next to me, I felt Sarah's mother stiffen. She reached for the door knob.
"I was born that way," Sarah explained. "It's a birth defect." She continued to jump.
"Oh, good!" Tracey smiled and bounced to the mat. She pulled off her left shoe and sock and displayed her protruding toe. "I've got one, too!"
Sarah grinned and they hugged each other.
Her mother sighed and let go of the door knob. Tears brimmed in her eyes.
That night, Tracey chatted in the bathtub. "Mommy, now I know why God gave me this foot." She poked her webbed, ever-growing toe through the bubbles. "I have this so I can understand people who have worser problems."
I hadn't even known she was asking the question, yet Tracey already understood better than I that God always has a plan, and His plan is good.
Twins! Jessica Banister In early September, 2004 I had my 20 week ultrasound scheduled. I was in my second pregnancy and my husband, Eric, and I were thrilled we would finally find out whether it was going to be a girl this time or we would be blessed with another active little boy to join two-year-old Ethan. Up to that point my pregnancy had been by-the-book normal. I had gained only four pounds and I was very proud of that.
In the ultrasound room, I climbed up on the table. The tech introduced herself. She asked if I had any questions before we started. I had only one. "If there are two babies will you know right away?" She looked at me funny and asked if I thought I was having twins. I said, "No, but I've been having dreams for months about twins. I'm just freaking myself out, I think." She said that she would know right away, but that I didn't look big enough to be having twins.
Less than one minute after she put the device on my belly, she informed us that my dreams were on target. We were going to have twins!
Eric and I immediately started crying. I was terrified! All I could think about was how could we possibly take care of two babies at once. After a long time of sobbing, I calmed down and she finished the ultrasound. It looked like they were both healthy little boys!
A hard pregnancy followed, with many hospital stays. I finally delivered Taylor Jackson and Daniel Kenneth on December 30, 2004 via c-section. They were healthy, despite being four weeks early. We took them home less than a week after their birth. That's when the "fun" started!
Having twins is one of the hardest but most wonderful things I've ever had to do. I don't remember much of the first six months because we were so sleep deprived, but since then it's gotten a lot easier.
Mothers sometimes treat their twins more special than their singleton siblings, which is a cruel thing to do to the singleton, however unintentional it may be. I swore that I would never do that. Our oldest son is just as much a blessing as our other two sons and I don't want him to become bitter or resentful to me as an adult because I treated him differently. It's a hard task though, especially when other people treat the twins as more special.
Slow Down!
Heidi McLaughlin (posted Dec. 18, 2008)
"Mom, how does a scorpion sting you?" my son William, age 4, asked me recently. I had no idea. I've never seen a scorpion in real life and if I did I definitely would not stick around to see how it stings.
"I don't know," I said, and since it was past bedtime I was ready to rush him off to bed. However, since I've been studying different learning styles and teaching methods, I realized that he was perfectly primed for learning. I shifted gears. "Would you like to look up scorpions on the internet and see if we could find out how one stings?"
His eyes lit up. William can now tell you where scorpions live, what nocturnal means, the names of several other animals that are nocturnal, what kinds of things scorpions eat, and what kinds of things eat scorpions. He also knows exactly how a scorpion stings.
My husband Bill often reminds me that our sons are sponges right now. They are in constant learning mode, soaking up everything about their world. When they are so young and while I have them home with me is prime time to be focused and intentional about teaching and training them. This is their time for learning all kinds of things including kindness, compassion, loving others and learning how to respond and control their actions when they are angry or have been wronged.
I have a friend who has started sitting her children down every time they fight and has them work on memorizing a Bible verse about brotherly love or kindness. What a great way to stop them in their tracks and have them learn how they should be treating each other. This takes some time. She can't just ignore the fighting in order to continue whatever she was doing. She has to be willing to accept the interruption and change her focus. This may come easy to some parents but for me it takes premeditation and planning ahead. I must anticipate the situations that arise with my children and, basically, come up with lesson plans to have at the ready.
When I slow down a little and give some thought to the normal daily stuff of life, I can speak wisdom into the lives of my children. This is hard for me. I like to do things quick. I like to be efficient. There isn't much about children that accommodates efficiency though.
I have decided to accept the fact that most tasks are going to take longer to complete than they did before I had children. I'm slowing down to enjoy my children as well as take time to teach them when they are most teachable. In the process I've become a little more patient and a little less task-oriented. Besides, now I know how a scorpion stings, and I can't wait to see what I get to learn next!
Who Would Hurt a Child? by Lora Berhar (Posted Dec. 9, 2008) Ever since I can remember, I have wanted to be a mom. Most of my toys as a little girl were dolls. I would sit and play with them for hours. Little did I know at the time, that God was preparing me to be mother to a physically disabled child. My first son was born with a disease called Spinal Muscular Atrophy. Basically everything in his body that requires a muscle to work does not work and, therefore, his muscles atrophy.
Over time, Ryan will get weaker and weaker. At age 12, his feet and legs are now deformed from the disease and are contracted due to lack of use. Without muscle support for his spine, Ryan developed scoliosis, and needed major back surgery at the age of nine. Most people just see a cute child in a wheelchair but don't realize what that really means. In reality, I am watching my son die slowly before my eyes every day. I have been grieving his death sentence since Ryan was 11 months old. And there are days when it gets the better of me and it's all I can do not to just crawl into my bed and stay there as my tears overwhelm me. But life goes on. And as mother to two other children now, I can't afford that luxury. If there is anything this disease has taught me, it is to take things one day at a time and enjoy each day with my kids.
Over the years, my son has had to endure many heartbreaks, such as not being invited to birthday parties of the other kids in his class. People were not purposely cruel but they didn't know how to include Ryan and many times simply chose to ignore us. It hurts to be different, but to be different and have others simply ignore you hurts worse. I would assure my son that he was special and was loved very much, even if his friends didn't always do the right thing. I reminded Ryan that, when things got tough, he could rely on someone who would never leave him or forsake him,our heavenly Father. Ryan learned very early to rely on the Lord for his strength. And it has gotten him through some tough times.
Ryan is a special little boy. He has gone through more in 12 years than many do in a lifetime. But he still has such a positive attitude, and I can only hope that we can all strive to be more like him in that respect. He has overcome so much.
As a family, we are learning to be thankful for each and every single thing God gives us. Even if, for Ryan, that means the ability to move his fingers just enough to drive his power chair or play a video game. Ryan said something to me a few years ago that I will never forget. "Mom, it won't be that bad if I have to stay in my wheelchair in heaven. I mean, after all, if anyone can make heaven wheelchair accessible, it would be God, right?"
Parenting: The Ongoing Drama by Jessica Banister (Posted November 19, 2008) I stood behind my minivan, in the parking lot of my favorite coffee shop while my three-year-old, Taylor, screamed inside the van. Taylor didn't want to behave while we were in the shop, and when I tried to reprimand him quietly, he chose to throw a fit, a loud and very disruptive fit! I took him outside, and after spanking him, I put him into the van and shut the door. I didn't want to sit in the van while he screamed, and that's why I stood behind it. Oh, did I mention that it was raining? And I left my coat inside? There, I have said it; I do spank. I know some parents and non-parents criticize me for it and that doesn't make it any easier, especially in public settings. But it's not that I just hit out of frustration whenever they misbehave. Eric and I talk to our children about why they are getting a spanking. And we ALWAYS come together after and talk again about why they were disciplined.
But in all honesty, I must admit that anger can be a problem for me. It's amazing to me that a small child can make me so mad! It's like he knows where my big red "DO NOT PUSH" button is. Sometimes I wonder if this is God's sense of humor, you know, to give me a child that is just like me. I've actually said to God ,"OK, God! I get it! Taylor's only doing to me what I did to my parents! And I'm not laughing anymore!" But I still feel like God is probably chuckling just a bit.
In this ongoing drama called parenting, God always seems to throw in a lesson for me as well as a lesson for my child. It's funny isn't it? While we are training our children in the way they should go, our Heavenly Father is training us in the way we should train them! I wish I always thought to look to the Ultimate Parent for my guidance! It would make things much easier if I always parented the way he parents me.
Taylor eventually calmed down. We were able to go back into the shop and enjoy our morning. I had to drink cold coffee, but it makes it worth it when my child is sitting nicely next to me, not throwing a fit! As a mother, all I can hope for is that if I discipline my children properly, someday they will grow up to be decent, godly gentlemen in society. And I will grow in grace and wisdom as well, hopefully without standing very often out in the rain.
Warrior Training for Toddlers by Heidi McLaughlin, October 27, 2008 Luke, my two-year old, had just hit his brother, William, age four, and I was asking him to apologize. Luke didn't want to say sorry so I said, "Can you please soften your heart and have love in your heart for your brother?" The answer was a pouty no.
William said, "Luke, you're not gonna get to go to heaven and you're gonna get fired." I gave William a look and he said, "Well, he's gonna go to hell and there is fire there."
My focus then turned to William. I talked with him about having compassion for people who haven't found Jesus yet. Especially when it's your two-year-old brother. Sometimes I wonder what the Lord was thinking when he blessed me with two boys. They are absolutely darling (of course), say the cutest things and give the sweetest, though sometimes messy kisses. But growing up as one of three girls left me completely in the dark about little boys--their constant activity and physical energy. There is no such thing as quietly playing with a toy the way my sisters and I spent hours playing with dolls or listening to records.
Thomas the train becomes a hand grenade launched in an attack against the "bad guy". A white plastic hangar is a gun, or two fly swatters are light sabers, and the boys are off to hunt Darth Vader. Inevitably someone gets hurt and angry and a fight breaks out. Some days I really want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head. However, I know that without my presence to prevent cruelty to humans my boys might not survive the day.
I want my boys to grow into men who are kind and compassionate. However, I also want them to fight when necessary. My job right now is not to tell them that guns are bad and that fighting is wrong. After all, most of the time they are both fighting the bad guy together. I want them to do that. I want to harness that love of being the good guy and fighting the bad guy. I want to teach them to stand up and protect someone being mistreated but not turn against each other when the Thomas the train grenade ends up launched at a brother. It's not a mission for the faint of heart. I already mentioned my desire to crawl under the covers, right?
When I am on the top of my game, I'm able to see the many, many opportunities I'm given to train these future warriors against cruelty. If I can see each fight they have as a chance to train them instead of an interruption or a nuisance to frazzle me, I will see them graduate from classes like Compassion 101 with flying colors!
Soon, I hope!
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