Why You Shouldn't Give Up, Mama

Author's Note:  This is from Treasure the Ordinary's Archives, and is even more profound to me today than when I wrote it.  The boy in this story was 13 then.  He's now 18 and will be leaving home this next year... 

With four children entrusted to my care, I spend a lot of my time teaching.  How to tie shoes.  How to ride a bike.  How to drive a car.  How to match your clothes.  How to start the dishwasher. 

The list goes on and on, right into the more important things.

How to forgive.  How to use your words to bless.  How to pray.  How to stop gossip.  How to strengthen yourself in the Lord.

I've been teaching these precious ones for fifteen years now, so I'm comfortable in my role as teacher.  I'm not always so comfortable in my role as student.

And that's where I found myself this week, as my son became the teacher.

It was Sunday evening and we were about to have thirty people making s'mores in our backyard for an end of the season softball party.  I was running behind in my preparations and feeling the crunch.  Somewhere in the midst of opening dozens of chocolate wrappers, my second son asked what was for dinner.  My response was less than gracious.

"It's Sunday night.  I don't cook on Sunday nights.  Just eat whatever you find in the fridge."

There was a long pause as he rummaged around in the fridge, then the freezer.  Pulling out a box of frozen taquitos, he asked how long he would need to warm them up.

I mumbled something in reply about that not being the easiest thing he could have chosen.

"What?" he asked me, leaning forward to try to catch my eyes.

"Nothing," I said, turning away from him, "Just follow the directions and do it quick so we can clean up the kitchen."

Definitely not an award-winning mommy moment.  And then, when the overpowing smell of taquitos filled the kitchen a few minutes later, it got worse.

"Great," I muttered loud enough for him to hear, "Just what I needed--that weird smell greeting our guests when they arrive."

My thirteen year old leaned forward once more, caught my gaze, and calmy said, "Mom, if you wanted to grump about that, you should have done it three minutes ago when I asked you what I should eat."

I looked at those sincere eyes, eyes that didn't hold one trace of disrespect, and burst out laughing.

He was so insanely and completely right.

And I was so in the wrong.

I apologized.  He accepted, smiled, and moved on to eat his taquitos, clean up after himself, and then ask how he could help me get ready for the party.

I realized later as I mulled it over that my teaching is working. 

I've invested hours and hours of my time teaching my children how to address conflict while still honoring the other person.

I've had countless conversations with them about how to recognize emotional manipulation and how to refrain from bowing to its yoke.

I've poured into them the skills and words it's going to take for them to navigate the waters of taking responsibility for what is yours, but not picking up false responsibility for what others do or say that you can not change.

And they're learning.  They're learning well.  They're learning so well that my son handled my irritation and impatience with a grace that can only come from someone who has come to value and fight for right relationships in his home.

And I've never been prouder as a mother, even if I won't be buying taquitos anymore.

How to Have a Wonder-Filled Christmas

I love the song I hear playing non-stop in every store I enter right now, the one with the line that gets stuck in your head so easily.  

"It's the most wonderful time of the year."

I know those stores are sending not so subtle hints that I need to get my Christmas shopping done, preferably in the store I'm in right at that moment, but I like the song for a different reason.  I like it because my mind re-writes it ever so slightly.

"It's the most wonder-filled time of the year."

And it is full of wonder.  Wonder that my God, who created every light I see in the night sky, would see me, thousands of years in the future, and call me loved.  Wonder that He would be moved by his heartache over our coming separation because of my sin, moved enough to set a plan in motion to bring me back into His arms.  And wonder that His plan for my redemption involved a cave, a peasant teenage girl, and a baby.

Such a wonder-filled plan.

But, over the last twenty years of parenting, I've learned the wonder can get lost in the wrapping paper and the cookie baking.  If we're not careful to impart the significance of the season to our children, it's easy for them to wake up the day after Christmas having missed the meaning in the remembering that was designed to draw them closer to the God who initiates all wonder.

And that's why Advent exists, to create avenues for remembering the meaning and exploring the path from the cradle to the cross and beyond.  To become filled with the wonder.


Author's Note:  As a Christmas gift to Treasure the Ordinary's readers, below is an Advent study that can potentially spark dialogue with all the people in your house, no matter what their age!   May you be blessed as each of you find ways to prepare your hearts for the celebration of our King's birth.  Merry Christmas!

Week 1 Advent Devotional - "Identity"

Opening Question: What is your favorite nickname you’ve ever been given?

Begin by showing your younger children the two sections of the Bible, the Old Testament and the New Testament. 

ASK [younger children]:  Which part of the Bible do we find stories about Jesus?  (New Testament)

ASK [older children]:  Which part of the Bible is your favorite to read, the Old Testament, or the New Testament?  Why?

It's true that the stories of Jesus are found in the New Testament, but the Old Testament talks about Him, too!  It may not use the name Jesus, but it does mention other names that Jesus goes by.  Just like you have a nickname (refer to your child's name here), Jesus has other names.  And when they are mentioned, we know God is talking about His son, Jesus.  See if you can find His names in this Scripture from the Old Testament.

READ:  “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders.  And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end.  He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever.  The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this.”  Isaiah 9:6-7

WRITE:  Let the children write the names of Jesus down on a piece of paper as they find them in the Scripture.  They may enjoy decorating it.  When you're finished with the devotional, hang this in a place they will see it throughout the week.

ASK [younger children]:  Were these good nicknames for Jesus?  How is He these things?

ASK [older children]:  Which of these names of Jesus is meaning the most to you in your life right now and why?

*  If you have younger children, this could be a good place to pray out loud as a family, giving thanks for the way Jesus is these things in your lives.  Older children can continue on with the following discussion.

When people give nicknames, it's often meant to tease or poke fun.  When God gives nicknames, it's to build people up.  He changed Abram ("Father") to Abraham ("Father of Many").  He changed Jacob ("Deceiver") to Israel ("Prince of God").  He changed Simon ("Reed") to Peter ("Rock.")

ASK:  Is there a label you've been given by the world that makes you feel small?  It might be a nickname, but it might also just be an attitude that you feel other people associate with you (i.e.  lazy, nerdy, etc.). 

READ:  "Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who is victorious, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it."  - Revelation 2:17

There will be a day when God will let you know your name that He has for only YOU!  You may not know exactly what the name is right now, but you can get to know His heart for you and what He thinks about you.  Let's pray and ask Him to speak to us tonight about what He calls each of us.  Let's allow that to take precedence in our hearts over anything the world or other people might try to label us.

Close with prayer over your children.  Parents, this is a great opportunity to bless your children with words of life!

Click here for Week Two: "Security"

Click here for Week Three: "Provision"

Click here for Week Four: "Protection"

Like A Little Child

When Keegan, my oldest, was little, he was the king of adorable baby talk.  There was "strawbabies" for strawberries.  "Crash can" for trash can.  And my favorite, the basketball "hoot" for that hoop he couldn't quite seem to successfully locate with his tiny, foam ball.

And then there was this.  "Hold your Keegy, Daddy."

Ahhhhhh.  It melted my heart every time to see the tiny person version of his father standing on the tops of his dad's feet, arms stretched up over his head.  And then that sweet command.

"Hold your Keegy, Daddy."

I loved it.  I loved his confidence, the certainty with which he knew what would happen next.  His dad was about to look down, smile, bend over, engulf him in a huge embrace, and pick him up to nestle him into his shoulder.  He was confident because it happened every single time.  Something in his little boy heart knew a good father can not resist those words, that entreaty.  His father couldn't ignore the profound request behind those four small words. 

I need you.

I trust you.

I want to be close to your heart.

They make sense coming from a child.  But, somewhere in the growing up and the getting tough, it's easy to believe we are to put the baby talk behind us and to grow beyond the need of being held.

And so it happened today, when I found my mind stuck in a painful loop, that I was stunned for the Lord to whisper to my heart that I can say those same words.  The reminder came sweetly, through the words of a song I knew twenty years ago.

Hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf,
You have been my King of Glory,
Won't you be my Prince of Peace.
(by Rich Mullins)

 And I stretch my arms to the heavens and tip my head to the sky.

"Hold your Mindy, Daddy."

 

A Blessing for Teachers (With Free Printable!)

New year.  New grade levels.  New friends.  New habits.  New teachers.

We are sending our most valuable treasures out into the world to be taught and shaped and mentored by teachers who didn't bring them into the world, wash their clothes this weekend, or put their breakfast on the table this morning.  Teachers who care about them, but aren't their parents.  Teachers who want to see them succeed, but don't have a lifetime of equity built with them.  Teachers who can't focus on four children like we do at our house, but have an entire classroom to take care of.

And that's why I take a few minutes today to bless my children on the first day of school, but also the teachers who are entering my children's lives today:

I bless you to see the value in each of your students, the God-given gifts in each one.

I bless you with patience in your heart today, and that it will be expressed in your face and in your voice.

I bless you with joy today, the kind of joy that can laugh at the moments that didn't go your way and exalt in the moments of success.

I bless you with peace in your classroom today, the kind that can be felt when students walk in the door.

I bless you with the ability to make learning a contagious source of wonder.

I bless you with the skills to communicate well with your students, their parents,  and your peers.

I bless you with renewed vigor and energy, enough to go home and still have an enjoyable evening with your family.

I bless you with wisdom and creativity to solve the problems that come your way.

I bless you with conversations around school that encourage you and lift up your spirit.

And I bless you with a new-found passion for your job, the job that is shaping the next generation.

Amen.


As a free back to school gift from Treasure the Ordinary, click here for a free printable of a Teacher's Blessing!  This simple page makes a great first day of school present for the teacher's in your life. 
 

No Substitute

I recently enjoyed speaking to a friend on her podcast about pastoring your soul.  We spoke about the busyness, the noise, the tiredness, and the chaos that can drown out our own heart's signals that it's time for a pause.  A pause to be still, be quiet, and be refreshed.  It was a great conversation, and if that stirs something down deep, you can listen to it here.


But, as I was processing the things we talked about, I realized there is a pattern I've begun to follow in life that not only pastors my own heart, but my marriage and my family.  And it all involves TIME.  I wrote about it here a few years ago in regards to fostering a healthy relationship with my husband, so I've known it existed, but I've come to see that the same pattern that nurtures my marriage also nurtures the deep parts of me, and is even the same pattern that causes my kids to thrive.

And that's my greatest desire for each of them, that they would thrive at being exactly who God created them to be, that they would be so confident in the truth of the nest they were raised in that when it comes time to fly, they would soar.  And there's no way that happens without an investment being made into them, an investment of time.  Because it takes time for that truth to sink in and be rooted.  It takes time to listen and learn where their hearts are unsure.  It takes time to discover the gifts buried deep and to call them out.  It takes time for mistakes to be made, discovered, and corrected.  It just all takes time.  And there's no substitute for it.

For all those reasons, having an intentional pattern of time spent with my children has become a blessing.  There's the daily meal at the table, the weekly family night, the monthly fun day, and the annual vacation.  And not every one of those is filled with deep conversations or even half-way deep conversations, but because there are enough of them, the deep conversations have a vehicle in which to overtake the daily routine.  They have a pause where they know they will be heard.

We haven't always done it well.  We've had the seasons where we let the pauses get filled with too much noise, too much everything.  But, we've learned that our children are remarkably forgiving when we simply say, "I'm sorry we've let things get too crazy.  Let's bring it back."  

And when we lead them to the pause, they follow.

Weekly Adventures: Six of Our Best Family Nights

Recently, Treasure the Ordinary featured a post on Family Nights.  That article has sparked a great deal of feedback, with many readers retelling how they, too, have had to go back to "boot camp" as a family and pick up old, yet important habits they had inadvertently laid down.  I'm encouraged that it's never too late to start over, and that this week's family night could be your best yet!  

To that end, here is a list of some of the most enjoyable of our recent von Atzigen Family Night Adventures.  In the past, I've noticed that ideas I've found online for this kind of thing seem to be centered around families with young children.  So, while a lot of these ideas could be adjusted to accommodate little ones (especially if you partner them with older kids or parents), my list here is centered around families with older children and teens.  I hope they will spark your own idea for an evening in, or an evening out, as long as it's with the ones you love most.

• "Chopped, Family Edition"- This was one of our most fun family nights ever!  A full scale replica of the TV show, complete with older brother filming the action in order to put together a highlight reel.  To play, I tasked the three youngest to compete in the dessert category.  They had 30 minutes to concoct their best creation using 3 out of 4 ingredients (pre-stocked in the family picnic basket!) and a maximum of 3 other ingredients out of the family pantry.  Parents did the judging, and overlooking a couple of nasty bites (think frozen hot tamale candies coming at your taste buds out of no where!), it was mostly delicious.  My teenagers all loved it, since it brought out all of their competitiveness, and it's even since sparked some interest in the kitchen that wasn't there before.
• "Wiki Night" - Get out all the smart phones!  Before you play, someone needs to stock the draw pile with random topics (the Wright brothers, cheddar cheese, Argentina, etc.).  To play, someone draws a topic from the pile, and everyone opens their wiki app to that page.  Someone then draws the second topic out of the draw pile, and the race is on to see who can get to that page first.  You can't use the back arrow, and you can't exit wiki, but other than that, it doesn't matter how you get there.  First person to the designated page wins!  (Note:  You can have as many people play per round as you have smart phones, but if you only have access to one or two, you could play tournament style, timing each person for their "score.")
• "Book Store Scavenger Hunt" - This one was great for a night when the parents were tired, but didn't want to miss out on family time.  The two of us sat in the bookstore cafe, reading a good book and drinking a coffee while the kids roamed the store taking photos of the items on their scavenger hunt list (a book with exactly 394 pages seemed to be the hardest one to find!) and sending them back to mom or dad's phone so we could monitor their progress.  We would occasionally send them all extra challenges that they could complete alongside their list for bonus points, my favorite of which was "take a picture of one of your siblings without them knowing."  The rule was you could not run and no one in the store could even be able to guess you were there on a scavenger hunt, so everyone had to play it cool and keep from being an annoyance to other customers.  The winner can even get to choose which new book you go home with!
• "Blessing Night" - We did this one around Christmas time.  Instead of spending money on our own family night, we took a family trip to Wal-Mart and bought everything that would be needed for another family to have a great family night.  Every one of my kids picked out their favorite candy, we spent a great deal of time choosing just the right puzzle and just the right board game, and then we added a family movie, hot chocolate, popcorn, and even a blanket.  I was proud of my kids when we loaded it all in the car to be dropped off for a project at our church and went home to eat the snacks that were in our own pantry.  I know we could have gone out after we did our shopping, but I felt like it was important to have one night completely devoted to serving others, and I wasn't disappointed.  I liked the fruit I saw in my kids.
• "Movie Night" - This time, it was to see "Hidden Figures," which I highlight because it was an excellent film and one that provoked deep discussion with our teenagers.
• "Photo Shoot Night" - Find some zany props, get into some crazy costumes, and head to an interesting location.  For extra fun, you can hire a photographer, but if you need it to be free, just bring a tripod and a creative streak.  I don't have a single child that doesn't like to have pictures taken, so we may be abnormally fond of the camera, but every time we do this, we end up with crazy fun memories.  This year, our photo shoot night ended up being our Christmas card, Viking helmets and all! 

Whether it's planned or spontaneous,  may your family time be sweet this week, friends.  And may it make you long for more.

What To Do When Someone Hurts Your Child

Ever since I was a little girl, I've read the Christmas story from Mary's perspective.  What would it have been like to birth the Savior of the world?  After a pregnancy where everyone thought the worst of you?  And what was it like to experience that birth far from home, away from your own mother, with only your young, terrified husband to hold your hand?  The birth of Jesus was a miracle in many ways, and one of them was that a young teenage girl said yes to the whole thing, trusting God to sort out the details of her very real life.

But, I'm certain the birth wasn't the hardest part for Mary.  For, just days later, she would hear the words no mother ever wants to hear at her baby's dedication service, spoken by a prophet who whispered them while looking deep into her eyes, "And a sword will pierce your own heart, also."  (Luke 2: 35)


What could she have thought upon hearing those words?  She had no frame of reference for what was coming.  She hadn't yet read the back of the book. 


She found out in real time that not everyone would believe He was who she always knew He was.  That people close to her would turn on him, betraying Him into hands that sought to kill the life she brought in to the world.  That He would die on a cross being mocked and spat upon by the very ones she knew He loved more than Himself.  And it's that part of Mary's story that both breaks my heart and captures my respect.

Because just recently, I watched a child born of my body experience hurt at the hands of someone else.  It was small in the great scheme of life, the kind of thing that most everyone experiences in junior high.  But, it brought tears and pain and confusion to one I love more than my next breath.  And in that moment, I didn't want to sit on the sidelines and pray.  I didn't want to counsel forgiveness.  I wanted to crawl out of my mama bear cave, stand on my hind legs, and roar until I could force retribution.  I wanted to fix it.  And fix it with vengeance.


But, I didn't get to.  Because that's not the way of the God I serve.  Instead, I held my child close to my heart, waited for the tears to stop, and we prayed.  We released the one who had done the wounding and we asked the Lord to bless them.  I admit that a little later, I also had to quietly ask the Lord to forgive the angry thoughts I had entertained that may have involved super glue and a flagpole, but the point is, in that mama bear moment, my child needed me to model a life value.  Because my babies won't always have me around to run to.  But, they will always have the God we can go to together.  And He is there for both of us, just like He was there for Mary.


He was there when she birthed her vagabond son in a stable.  He was still there in her panic when she realized she had left her pre-teen in Jerusalem and was a three day journey away from him.  And He was there again when she watched the man she knew to be completely innocent of sin murdered on a cross for her own sin.


He was there.  He was there for her and He was there for her son.  He was there because that boy was also His son.


And that's what brings peace in the moments when we watch our children walk through pain.  The truth that, even more than being bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh, these children belong to Him.  He loves them more than we can fathom.  He has a plan for their lives, one for hope and a future.  And He will never leave them.  They are His.

Family Night

"Sometimes you have to go back to boot camp."  My friends words were spoken with a laugh, but the truth of them rang in my ears. 

She was speaking about her children.  About their tendency to drift from the family's boundaries and push the envelope.  About the need to come back to basics and remind children what we do, what we don't do, and why.  We love each other.  We speak kindly to each other.  We use our manners.  We don't eat things that come from our nose.  The real basics. 

That's boot camp.  And we just had one of those seasons in our house.

I felt it coming on for a while.  With a move to a new city this summer, there was just so much that was new and different that it was easy to lose sight of those basics.  Except my kids are old enough not to need the nose talk.  It was basics of a different sort, and it was probably more for the parents than the kids.

Because if you're not diligent, not careful to guard the state of your flock, you can look up and realize that all the things you put in place when your kids were young to help them grow spiritually and emotionally have slipped into the busyness of the details of life.  And the protective boundaries you had set to guard your family from the parasites that eat away at the health of your relationships have given way to too much technology, too much noise, and just too much.

So, it was time to go back to boot camp.  And for us, that meant reinstating family night.  A sacred weekly tradition we had held for many years, but had slowly let fade to monthly and then occasionally and then we can't remember when.

But, it's back, and it's back so good.  It's not fancy.  It's not complicated.  It's not overly spiritual.  It's just time together that is absolutely set in stone and doesn't get moved by anything on mom's schedule, dad's schedule, or the school's schedule.  Everyone in the house has been informed that this is going to happen, and anything that needs to be planned for in advance or changed or moved or deleted in order for it to happen, that better happen, too.

There may have been some expectation on the parents' end that this proclamation would be met with some resistance, but it wasn't.  We are three months in to family night boot camp and haven't missed a single week.  Every one of our teenagers have made the shift, and now Fridays may be my favorite day, but Tuesday is my favorite night.

Tuesday night is tacos around the table.  It's a new board game.  It's a walk to our favorite custard shop.  It's jammies and s'mores on the back patio.  It's watching a food network show while we eat frozen pizza.  It's a round of charades or hide and seek in the dark.  It's a bike ride. 

It's just time.  Whatever it takes to have time to look each other in the eye and laugh and remember why we are each other's best friends.

Three months in, and this is by far the best boot camp this family has ever had.  Especially since we haven't had a single nose discussion.

What To Do When You Disagree With A Fellow Believer

"MOM!!!!" 

I always knew that particular sound.  The one that said someone was angry.  It might be that someone stepped on his feelings, it might just be that someone stepped on his cookie, but he wasn't happy.  It was an angry brother.

And when my boys were young and prone to disagreements, I was hearing that angry cry far too often and became a little desperate in looking for a way to help them move past their differences and celebrate the sheer fact that they were brothers.  I often tried lecturing, but I knew they really didn't need to hear a lot of preaching.  They knew everything I was trying to tell them already, they just didn't want to do it in the heat of being wronged.  I needed something else.

And that's how it was born.  A simple tactic, really, but it seemed like it was magic in how effective it was.  First, I would make them stop. 

"Just stop what you're doing and look at each other."  This was usually followed by unhappy stares, but also silence, so that was a win.

"Now, put your arms around each other."  This would be followed by grumpy grunts, with chubby arms stretching to circle around someone's midsection.

"Okay, repeat after me."  Silence.

"I like you."  Sometimes a pause, but eventually two voices in unison, "I like you."

"I love you."  Another pause, followed by, "I love you."

"I highly respect you."  Getting faster now.  "I highly respect you."

"I greatly esteem you."  I'm not sure they even knew what this word meant when we started, but they figured out by context it wasn't the slam they were wanting to give.  "I greatly esteem you."

"And I think you smell good."  And that's where it worked.  Every.  Single.  Time.  Because when you're a pre-school boy, you just instinctively know that not only does your brother decidedly not smell good, you don't either.  So somehow, saying those words produced giggles and guffaws and sheepish faces.  And after the shared laughter, there was some kind of bond, some grubby little olive branch that helped them move past the offense.

Granted, we still sat down and hashed things out when they needed to be, but this simple act put it all in perspective.  We are family.  We don't just love each other because we have to, we like each other and we respect each other.  We speak to each other with honor.

And in this tense political season, with harsh words flying all around our culture's airwaves, I find myself wanting to have a family meeting with other followers of Jesus Christ.  Because we are family.  And even when we disagree, we shouldn't be grudging with our affection.  Jesus calls us to a much higher level of accountability than that.

In fact, his words were "love each other as I have loved you." (John 15:12)  And I am so grateful that my Jesus didn't love me begrudgingly, holding out his affection and respect for me until I towed the line in every aspect.  If He had waited until my thoughts were in perfect alignment with His before He allowed Himself to esteem me, or even like me, I would still be lonely and afraid apart from Him.

But, instead, He took me as I was.  And He loved me in the most honoring way any person could love another.  He gave His life for me.

And so, if I could call that huge family meeting for Christ's brothers and sisters, I'd make them put their arms around each other and look each other in the eye.  I'd remind them that no one group has it all figured out.  There's always places where we don't yet smell so great.  But, it doesn't mean we won't.  And it doesn't mean we should be treated without honor while we search for the bubble bath.

"I like you.  I love you.  I highly respect you.  I greatly esteem you.  And I think you smell good---it must be the fragrance of Christ."  (2 Corinthians 2:15)

Believe It or Not

"You are everything I ever wanted in a daughter."


I heard my husband speak those words today, and they took my breath away.  I paused to watch what they did to her. 


She found his gaze.  A slow smile.  A nod.  A kiss.  And then she was gone, on to living life, which meant at that moment lunch and Phineas and Ferb.


There was no big reaction because there was not a new revelation.  Just quiet confidence that Dad still felt the way he has always felt, assurance that comes from knowing you are as loved as you have always been.


But, my heart has been contemplating the many, many grown women who are still walking around wondering what their dads think of them, wondering what it would be like to experience the embrace of approval that has never come.


And so, today, if that's you, you need to know something. 


Your Father is completely, 100%, absolutely, and with great certainty enraptured with you.  He can't keep His eyes off you, and He is captivated by your beauty, your grace, and the wonderment of you.


If the wounds of this world, or maybe even the wounds of a dad, have kept you from ever realizing this, or you have just forgotten it under the weight of self-doubt or self-loathing, then it is time to step into the embrace of the truth.


Because whether or not you believe it, it is true. 


Your Father, the One who created you and knows every detail of your life, is your biggest fan.  He believes in you.  He adores you.  He is convinced you are gifted, and He can not be persuaded otherwise.  He is rooting for you, sitting in the bleachers of your life, cheering you on.  He talks about you to his friends, pointing out every one of your attributes.  He remembers your birthday.  He comes to all your parties.  He can't wait to see you when you wake up in the morning.  He misses you when you don't come around.


He doesn't just love you, he enjoys you.


If you don't believe that, you don't know Him.  And He wants you to.

Ready or Not

I now have an eighteen year old.

I have an eighteen year old.

My son is eighteen years old.

It doesn't matter how I say it or how many times I repeat it, nothing about that sentence makes any sense to my brain.  But, it's happening.  Happened already.  He's eighteen years old.

One of hardest parts is facing the fact that I'm actually old enough to have an eighteen year old.  I vividly remember turning eighteen, being eighteen, loving eighteen.  Eighteen is when I spent two months in Peru, moved to college, met my husband, and started doing grown-up things like voting, buying my license plate tags, and eating salad.  It's the year my parents moved across the nation, and I had to find my own place to live when school let out.  The year I got a real job.  The year I looked into the face of a man who wasn't too much older than me and said yes when he held out a ring with hope in his eyes.

And all of those things are here, waiting for my own child who isn't a child any more.  All of those experiences, those decisions, those learning curves, they are all lined up like mile markers in front of him because he is eighteen years old.  My son is eighteen years old.  

And I know it's not like his life is just beginning.  It's not that he's at mile one.  He's had eighteen years worth of mile markers to prepare him for this.

The first step.  The first word.  The first french fry, which I distinctly remember celebrating.  The first day of school.  The day he decided to follow Jesus.  The first week-long youth camp.  The first time he knew more math than I did, which happened closer to the french fry than the youth camp.  The first crush.  The first time he pulled out of the driveway on his own. 

They all got us here, to eighteen.  And they all made him ready to move forward.  To vote, move to college, meet someone special, eat salad.

I'm just not sure they've done anything to make me ready.

And yet, it doesn't matter.  The eighteen year old mile markers are here if I'm ready or not.  And all I know to do is the one thing I know I've learned being a mom.  I pray.  

I pray that the God who walked me through my own mile markers will hold the hand of my son and lead him through every one of life's experiences that will start coming faster and faster in this new season.  

I pray he will have courage to make the tough choices in a way that honors the God he loves.

And I pray that the God who gave me this child to begin with will hold my heart when the man he has become walks away from me.  

I pray I will have the courage to cheer him on from a distance as he faces the mile markers that don't require me to be beside him anymore.

My son is eighteen years old.

Favorite Things

My daughter watched the Sound of Music last night.  She was telling me this morning her favorite part is when Maria sits on the pinecone.  So many memories, that movie holds for me, since I watched it at least once a week, it seemed, while I was growing up.

And I think my favorite part has always been the "Favorite Things" song.  I'm pretty sure if the rest of my family experienced anything at least once a week, it was me singing that at the top of my lungs from behind my closed bedroom door.  It may or may not also be the reason my bed broke when I was nine, since I also tended to act out all of the children jumping on it with Maria as they sang.

"When the storm strikes, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don't feel.....(getting up to full out gusto here)...so baaaaaaaaa----aaaaaaaa-------dddddd!"

It's a lovely song.

And probably the reason I have always believed in having a lot of favorite things.  Because if you have hundreds of favorite things, you can't help but happen upon them every day.  The more you have, the better your odds.

Which is why last summer, when our family was trapped inside on a rainy day, we played the Favorite Things game.  If you've never heard of it, I'll teach it to you, and you don't even have to click a link to connect to Pinterest or buy it on Amazon.  Here it is:

You each sit down with a piece of paper and a pencil and you have five minutes to write down all the favorite things you can think of.

Isn't that a brilliant game?  But the real fun comes in the sharing because when you're done writing, you go around the circle and share your favorite things.

I still have our lists because they are now some of my favorite things.  I mean it.  I treasure them.  Because in each list, I am allowed to peer into my husband and my children, into the deepest places of who they are and what makes them happy. 

And what I find there is that there aren't a lot of fancy cars or designer clothes on the list.  None actually.  Not any toys or technological gadgets, either.  What made the lists are just the simple things in life that all equal up to...us.  The hundreds of little things that are actually the great things.  The ordinary that is actually the sacred.

cheese and crackers
comfortable jeans
knowing the answer right away
making funny jokes
midnight cuddles because you're 5 and afraid of thunder
when the storm is over
chicks in a nest
grandparents
music
dessert
when mom is cooking macaroni
a baby's first word
honey and biscuits
father and son hikes
heaters in winter
victory
chickens that have feather pants
being pleasantly tired
learning another language
a sky full of stars
worshiping around a campfire
laughing at yourself
reading a good book
our dog's ears
gentle rain
oreos and milk
old friends
new friends
highlighted and underlined Bibles
worn quilts
fluffy towels
vacations
cherries
green grass
morning coffee
forgiveness

These are a few of our favorite things.  

Advent Devotional, Week Four

Author's Note:  This is last of a four part Advent devotional series for families here at Treasure the Ordinary.  May you be blessed as each of you find ways to prepare your hearts for the celebration of our King's birth.  Merry Christmas!


Week 4 Advent Devotional - "Protection"

Opening Question: What trip have we taken as a family that you enjoyed that most? 

During our time together today, we are going to look a trip Jesus took with his parents when He was just a baby.  Mary and Joseph didn't have a car seat, or even a car, but they packed up their tiny baby and traveled over 300 miles for a very important reason.

 

READ:  Matthew 2:1-12
 
“After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.” When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him. When he had called together all the people’s chief priests and teachers of the law, he asked them where the Messiah was to be born. “In Bethlehem in Judea,” they replied, “for this is what the prophet has written: “‘But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for out of you will come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel.’ Then Herod called the Magi secretly and found out from them the exact time the star had appeared.  He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search carefully for the child. As soon as you find him, report to me, so that I too may go and worship him.” 


After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.


And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route. When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.” So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called my son.”


When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi. Then what was said through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled: “A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.” 


After Herod died, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who were trying to take the child’s life are dead.” So he got up, took the child and his mother and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was reigning in Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. Having been warned in a dream, he withdrew to the district of Galilee, and he went and lived in a town called Nazareth. So was fulfilled what was said through the prophets, that he would be called a Nazarene."


[NOTE:  for very young children who may not be ready for a discussion about Herod's killing of children, parents may wish to not read the bold print aloud.]


Herod wanted to kill Jesus because he was afraid of another king taking his place.  He didn't realize that Jesus was not coming to sit on the throne in Jerusalem, but to save us from sin.  So, he wanted attack Jesus because he did not understand who Jesus was and what he was doing.  Herod did not feel secure and safe as a king, so he was jealous of anyone else who might be a better king than he was.


A lot of times when people hurt us our hurt our feelings, it's because they don't feel good about themselves. 


ASK:  [younger children]  When someone hurts our feelings, how can we pray for them?  (that they would understand they are important to God.)


ASK:  [older children] Have you ever hurt someone or hurt their feelings because you didn't feel good about YOU?  How can you make sure this does not become a pattern in your life?


God protected Jesus from Herod by sending Him to Egypt.  This was the very place God's people had been slaves hundreds of years before, until God called Moses to lead them out! 


ASK:  Why do you think God would send Jesus THERE?  (Younger children should be helped to arrive at the conclusion that no one would think to look for Him there, but older children can be helped to find the deeper truth that God was making a statement that Jesus had come to lead us all out of the slavery of sin.)


If God had not protected His son as a baby, Jesus would not have been able to die for us on the cross.  God could see the whole, big picture, and He knew just what to do.  When God protected Jesus, He protected US, too!


Closing Question:  What things does God want YOU to do in the future?  How is He protecting you even now so that you can do those things?