Best friends in the end

A certain song has been running through my mind all week: "Me and You" by singer/songwriter Katie Tarpey. It's a beautiful piece. She sings of her dreams for the future: bulding a home together with the one she loves. As she envisions children yet to be, she sings of a tire swing and a cardboard-box marching band. Then my favorite line: "We'll raise them to be best friends in the end." This is my hope.

As Zach grows, the fights between he and Ellie increase. My kids steal toys from one another, throw weapons and punches, but they always come back to being friends. They hold hands while walking to the park, work together to wrestle Daddy, and share inside jokes. They have a language only they can understand and secret tricks that always make each other laugh. I love it.

As I watch them, I think about the family of God. All believers are children of God; that makes us siblings. Do we get along like that? Oh, I know we have the fights and we throw the punches. We argue over doctrinal differences and appropriate behaviors, but in the end, are we friends? Do we truly love each other?

Isabel and Zach love each other. They really love each other! They have their disagreements, but they always come back to being friends. This is how we should be. We should defend each other the way Zach rushes to protect his big sister if ever he thinks she's under attack. We should run to help each other the way Isabel hurries to care for Zach if he falls or is hurt. We need to really and truly love each other as brothers and sisters, not just distant family members we have to tolerate.

“Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ is born of God and everyone who loves the father loves his child as well. This is how we know that we love the children of God: by loving God and carrying out his commands." -- 1 John 4:1-2 (NIV)

We cannot love God without loving His children. We cannot love each other without loving God. It's all entwined. Just something to think about.

Stop the Ripples

I am hiding from my children. Our bedroom, affectionately called “the cave”, is my only place of solitude. Well, a semi-solitude. The ramblings of our children still echo from the living room. Dora is singing somewhere in the background. Piles of laundry surround me, sprinkled with a few cheerios and matchbox cars. But this is the best I can find.

Our children are boycotting naps. I haven’t had a moment’s rest in a week and a half. That is, not while they are awake. I haven’t written in that same amount of time. It’s killing me. I can’t even go to the bathroom without visitors to my throne or prying voices on the other side of the shower curtain.

So, what do I do? When I don’t have my “me-time” as our generation calls it; when I don’t have the quiet moments I need to recharge my batteries, I attack whoever is closest. I’ll grumble at Rick for leaving a wet towel on the floor. Even the mailman annoys me. If I am in the middle of disciplining Zachary and Isabel interrupts, who gets yelled at? Isabel. She likely is not the original source of frustration, but I spread my frustration to her. When I do not have my quiet moments, my reactions are disproportionate. Instead of smart-bombing problems, I use a more general ammunition, hitting innocent bystanders in the process. My grief and wrath ripple throughout the house. In turn, it ripples back. Isabel hits Zach because she knows she can’t hit me. Zach screams because he’s not as fast as she is, and poor Rick retreats until the storm blows over. I am left in the center facing the problems I alone created and amplified.

How much easier it would be to take a time-out in the beginning. Stop. Pray. Retreat to the cave before the warning bells ring and the turmoil is inevitable. As busy people it’s not always that simple. We run 24/7 with never enough time to accomplish all that needs to be done. We struggle to balance family life with career ambitions and spiritual callings. We are torn in every direction.

One of my favorite quotes is this: “There is never enough time to do all the nothing we want.” The problem is we don’t know what the nothing is versus the something. God knows what is most important for us. He knows how our priorities should align. If we don’t spend time with Him, how will we know what our somthings are? How will we know which demands are nothing and better neglected? We can’t. This is why we should seek him day and night. Even if it’s only a few solitary moments before rolling out of bed.

The good ripples, too. When I align my thoughts with God first thing, the rest of the day is better. My attitude is better, and everyone can tell the difference. Instead of loud, rushing voices, the house echos with laughter and sweet sentiments. Isabel hugs her brother instead of hitting him. Zach shares toys instead of stealing them. Rick is happy to come home instead of wishing he had a cave of his own. We don’t need to hide from each other! We find our rest in God. In the end, it’s not “me-time” that we need, it’s God-time.

It's not my fault.

A big truck rested next to me. Zachary was running toward it, but misjudged the distance. He did a sort of belly-flop onto the couch, hitting his head on the truck. As he cried, I swooped him up in motherly love and comfort. My son responded by poking me in the eye. On purpose.

Is blame-shifting hereditary or is it just human nature? I know our family has issues with it. If we're lost, it's not the driver's fault. The passenger is to blame for not looking at the map. If I stub my toe, it's Rick's fault for not putting his shoes away. If Zach hits his head, whoever is closest to the offending truck must have caused the pain. I got poked in the eye for sitting in the wrong spot. I didn't put the truck there and I didn't cause Zach to hit his head, but I still felt the pain. Literally.

How often do we blame others just because they are near? More importantly, how often do we blame God when it is our own fault? We criticize Him and His spokesmen because we don't want to face the truth. We don't want to accept the blame or responsibility, so we poke 'em in the eyes.

Shortly after Rick and I were married I did just this. Something I had hoped and planned for was not coming to fruition. I was angry. I blamed Rick because he was closest. I blamed God because He was supposed to be in control. He had promised me what would happen! He had shown me my dreams, then just abandoned me and took it all with Him. This was my thinking at the time. But it wasn't His fault! It wasn't Rick's fault either. I was in a mess because of my own foolishness. I fell into an abyss by my own doing, by my shortcomings and failures to understand God.

Not until I returned to the truth did I see things clearly. God never lies. He never leaves us. He always keeps His promises. He knows our futures and plans them meticulously. These are the truths I needed to remember. Once I did, my perspective changed. I stopped poking my jagged finger in the wrong direction. In that I found my peace.

After Zachary relinquished his anger and blame, he allowed me to kiss away his hurt. Sometimes misplacing our blame is exactly what prevents us from being comforted. If we stop being angry, if we stop blaming others, then we can trust God more fully and accept the kisses He is waiting to give us.

The power we give fear.

Sometimes life paralyzes us. Sometimes we paralyze ourselves. My friend and fellow writer wrote a wonderful blog entry on just this. Check it out. Her insights on fear and our part in it truly challenged me. Hope you benefit from her thoughts as well.

Father's Day was Monday

Isabel says the same thing to Rick every morning: "Happy Father's Day, Daddy! I hope you catch your train!" Last month every day was Mother's Day ... or Father's Day or Zach's Day. She didn't want anyone to feel left out. But now, it's all about Daddy. It started on Monday.

Once upon a time, I could take the kids shopping and no one was the wiser. I even took them with me to buy their own Christmas gifts. They didn't remember. By the time we returned home, all was forgotten. Such is not the case any longer. On Monday the kids and I went to get a Father's Day gift for Rick. Isabel was thrilled! She worked all afternoon making a special map and card for him. (A map because she is convinced everyone loves Dora as much as she does.) She helped me wrap the presents and then hide them in Mommy's scrapbook closet.

The gifts were out of site, but definitely not out of mind. She kept talking about them. "Daddy will be so happy to get his gifts when he comes home!" I tried explaining that Father's Day wasn't until Sunday, so we would have to wait to give him his gifts. He excitement never waned.

"Isabel, the presents are a surprise. We have to keep them a secret from Daddy. Shhhhhh ... don't tell him, okay?"

Whispered as quietly as a three-year-old can manage: "Okay, Mommy. I won't tell. Shhhh, Zach. Don't tell Daddy!"

A few hours later Rick came home. The traditional Daddy's-home-celebration commenced with our two tots jumping and screaming and hugging and laughing. Then I heard in a crisp voice: "Daddy, we have a present for you! It's downstairs!"

Rick smiled and cast a glance my way. "Oh really?"

"Yeah! We went to the golf store!! It's a secret. Do you want to see?"

So, we celebrated Father's Day on Monday. The moral of the story: three-year-olds cannot keep secrets. Nor can they wait for suprises. But, boy, do they love their daddies.

Mommy of Zach

It’s all about Zach. Our son has taken egocentricity to a new level. Every baby in photos is “Zach”. Every toy is “mine!” Even people are named in accordance to their relationship with him. He calls Isabel “sister of Zach.” I am “mommy of Zach.” Rick is “daddy of Zach.” Our real names are irrelevant; all that matters is our connection to him – Zach, center of the universe.

His logic makes sense. There is One who is the center of the universe – it’s just not our son! Our value is determined by our connection to Christ. Lacking a relationship with Him, we truly are lost and without significance. This is what Jesus said of Himself:

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” – John 15:5 (NIV)

So, who are we? What is our connection to the Vine? As for me, I am the mommy of Zach, but I am also a daughter of God; heir with Christ; servant of the King. I am loved by the Creator, forgiven by Jesus, made new in Him. What shall I call you?

Our budding artist

I am so proud of our Isabel! We've been working on her letters. Every day she wants to play "school." We picked up some great workbooks and such from Amazon. She LOVES them! Sometimes kids can do things you didn't realize they could. Her drawing is one of those "wow!" things for me. I knew she loved to color. I knew she could make some shapes -- circles and crosses; lines and dots -- but I didn't believe she was really making pictures until this weekend.

A while back I watched her jam a marker onto the page then exclaim: "Oh man! I made a bird!!" She was so upset. "What are you trying to make, honey?" "A snail!" She would repeat the same motion over and over while getting more and more frustrated. To me, they were just dots. To her, they were really something. Unfortunately, they were the wrong thing, birds instead of snails, but they were still something to her.

Well, finally, I am starting to see the somethings our budding artist creates.

I watched as she narrated this drawing. You'll see I labeled everything when she was done ... ears, eyes, mouth, feet and hands. It may not look like much, but I was ecstatic!

Then she drew the next one ... a portrait of me!

The red part is my picture of her. The blue little face at the bottom is her picture of me. She even made a "T" for Tanya! I'm still not sure why I have hair on my face, but ... it's all in the eye of the beholder - right?

And, last but certainly not least, she drew a picture of Zach. I love his smile and all his hair!


Just had to share this very proud "mama moment" with all of you!!


If you want to see the pictures a little better, just click. They'll pop up nice and big. *grin*

Ellie-isms for May

Here is a snapshot of our Isabel -- her Ellie-isms from May.

*****

Me: “I have a surprise for you!”
Ellie: “What is it?”
Me: “You’ll find out later.”
Ellie: “Hmmm … I think I need to find out now.”

*****

Touching her middle …

“This is my birthday button!”

*****

After a random conversation about pirates at the dinner table …
Me: “What made you think of that?”
Ellie: “God.”

*****

Ellie: “Mom, can I have mac and cheese for dinner?”
Me: “How about ham and vegetables?”
Ellie: “REAL food?! We’re having REAL dinner tonight?! Wow!”

*****

While working on her letter formation pages …
“'A's and 'H's both have bridges! I love 'H's, don’t you?”

Father knows best.

“I want that!” Isabel pointed to a huge case of plastic foods. Right next to it sat the nearly-identical set she got last Christmas, the set she rarely plays with. Her voice was filled with conviction, but her father knew better. Rick gently redirected our daughter to another aisle in the toy store.

Sometimes we think we know what we want; we’re desperate to get it. But our Father knows better. He knows us better than we know ourselves – from the hairs on our heads to the deepest desires of our hearts.

Rick knew Ellie didn’t really want more play food. He knew there was something better just a few steps away. He knew there was something else she wanted even more than plastic pizza.

In the same way God gently guides us. Are we following? Do we trust Him to know what’s best for us?

Isabel could have stomped her feet and insisted on having that first sight, but she would have missed out on a greater treasure. If we fight and struggle against God’s will, we, too, will miss treasures. We will settle for less than the best and likely endure pain along the way.

This reminds me of The Tale of Three Trees. Have you heard it? There is a book review on my other site: Christian Children’s Book Review. It’s a timeless tale in which three trees dream of doing great things. Through the course of the book they realize God had bigger plans for them than they could have ever imagined.

We may think we know what we want, but God knows better.