What’s Your End Game?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how quickly life passes. Maybe it’s because my birthday is right around the corner, or maybe it’s because my son just got engaged. It could also be that we spent the last week vacationing in Michigan, not far from where I grew up. Hundreds of memories resurfaced, reminding me of how things used to be coupled with a bittersweet sadness that they can never be that way again. My parents will never be that young again, my siblings never that carefree, my childhood friends no longer a daily constant.

On top of all this, my sweet friend Virginia passed away last week. I met Virginia 13 years ago, when I was pregnant with Julia. She was finishing up cancer treatment at that time, and entering remission. She quickly went from “acquaintance” to “friend” to “family.” She meant it when she said, “Call me if you ever need anything.” And I did. Virginia came to my rescue in many ways over the years, and she taught me what it means to be a steadfast, true friend.

So, yes. Life passes quickly.

Nathanael taught me how to play chess when we were dating. At first, I was intrigued with this game, its clever pieces and precise rules. I didn’t mind losing to him either, because I was just learning. After a while though, I realized he was a rather ruthless opponent. He came to win. He took no prisoners. He was willing to do what I had no patience for, that is, take as much time as he needed to plan ahead, to strategize, to play with his end game forefront in his mind.

I’m starting to see the value of living life like Nathanael plays chess. As in, what’s my end game? Remember, life is short. So, what happens when this is all over? I’ve always been cognizant of the passing of time, but it takes a week like I just had to really stop and think. It takes these major life events to be reminded that my time passes in the blink of an eye. Thinking about my end game is more than a good idea, or even a smart strategy. It’s a matter of life and death.

If all this sounds horribly depressing, please don’t panic. That’s just your natural, human response to the idea of change, of getting older, and yes, of dying. It’s my natural response, too. It’s likely why I have been crying on and off at random and inconvenient times for several days now. We don’t like these feelings because we know this isn’t how things are supposed to be. When sin entered the world, it drastically changed God’s creation and His design for our lives. And there was only one possible result for our end game.

The good news, the very best news, is that Jesus is the Game Changer. Jesus “abolished death and brought life and immortality to light…” (2 Timothy 1:10) This is nothing short of astounding. He has abolished the thing we fear the most. He now hands us a simple book of strategy for how to win: “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). Following Jesus is a sure way live life with my end game in mind. He promises to get me where I need to go. Following Jesus, staying connected to Him through His Word, and praying to the Father through Him is life changing, and life giving.

I have no doubt that part of me will always struggle to adapt to all the changes this life brings. I also know that this makes Jesus, who is “the same yesterday, today, and forever,” even more precious to me (Hebrew 13:8). I know I can trust in Him to lead me through whatever comes my way. I am confident that, in Him, my end game is secure and I have already won.

Ye who are of death afraid
Triumph in the scattered shade.
Drive your anxious cares away;
See the place where Jesus lay.

Christian, dry your flowing tears
Chase your unbelieving fears;
Look on His deserted grave,
Doubt no more His power to save.

(The Lutheran Hymnal 203:2-3)

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The Empowered Woman

In this short and sweet post, I have a few things to say about The Empowered Woman, and what that means to me. I promise it will be pain-free!

First things first. The Empowered Woman is a new book from Chicken Soup for the Soul! It hits bookshelves on May 1st and they were kind enough to include my story “Color Me Fabulous” in this anthology. This story is about the time I dyed my hair bright red while Nathanael was gone on a mission trip to Africa. I was a bit burned out from being on full-time kid duty and was desperate for a change, and…wow. Suffice it to say, I definitely got a change.

What’s interesting is that I had originally submitted this story for a different Chicken Soup topic, so when I heard they wanted to include it in “The Empowered Woman” anthology instead, I was a little surprised. Me? Empowered? I certainly don’t see myself that way. Plus, “Color Me Fabulous” is a story about a bungled mistake, a not-so-great plan gone horribly wrong. What’s so empowering about that?

The more I think about it, the more I realize that my mistakes can and do make me stronger. Most days I’m trying to find the perfect balance for family, friends, work, church, home, and self. The pressure to do it all and do it well is tremendous, because I don’t have time for mistakes. I’m tempted to think the only way to feel empowered is to successfully manage all of this at the same time. But really, few opportunities in life teach as well and as quickly as those times I drop the ball, fail, or learn something the hard way. Surprisingly, it’s these failures that force me to change, grow, and feel empowered. Finding a way to laugh while I’m at it? That’s just a bonus.

You can find Chicken Soup for the Soul books on sale at Walmart, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon. Also, if you have an empowering mistake you’d like to share in the comments, I would love to hear it! Thanks for stopping by!

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Pack Light!

w. It has been one crazy, busy, amazing, stressful, and unforgettable ride since August. Most of you know that’s when I started teaching preschool and kindergarten at our (new!) Christian Day School here in Sleepy Eye. I think I’ve learned as much as my students have, but unfortunately, I’m a slow learner and have had very little time for writing here.

I’ve still been writing though. Twice a month, I write a “Christian Education” article for our church bulletin, and these articles are based on devotions we have each day at school. It just occurred to me that none of us, school-aged through old age, ever stop learning from God’s Word. So I decided to share some of my Christian Education articles here in the hopes that they will offer a bit of encouragement for your day. Devotion is easily my favorite part of the school day because nothing refreshes like time in the Word with my Savior. I pray these little glimpses into our devotion time bless you as well.

What would you pack if you were going on a trip?

This was the question Pastor Mayhew asked at devotion recently. Some answers he received were: My dad, a friend, a blanket, a basketball, a fan, an MP4 player, a tablet, and stuffed animals. What about you? What would you pack? My packing list always includes things like my phone, camera, medicine, and books to read. These are my “must haves.”

Now, what if instead of a trip, you were running a marathon? Suddenly, things change. “Must haves” take on new meaning. A marathon runner doesn’t want to take anything that is not absolutely necessary to finishing the race. Carrying a lot of extra stuff would weigh him down, wear him out, and maybe even prevent him from finishing the race at all.

The students could understand how silly it would be to try and run a long distance with a blanket around their shoulders or a basketball in their arms. Even the youngest child understands that when you want to run fast, you drop everything and go.

As Christians, we are running a race. The race of faith. The devil, the world, and even our own flesh often try to weigh us down with temptations and sin so that we will become discouraged, worn out, and in danger of quitting. But Hebrews 12:1-2 tells us how to finish strong:

Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Easter LilyWhen Jesus rose on Easter Sunday, He opened the gates of heaven for us. Our goal is to drop everything we don’t need and run the race of faith, keeping our eyes on Jesus. Best of all, we can pack light, because Jesus is all we need to obtain victory.

 

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Prayer Time

Prayer Time

Growing up, my sisters and I made up a game called Cottie Too. It was a somewhat nonsensical game with two rules: It always began with the phrase “cottage cheese” and players promised to say the first thing that came to mind.

That’s it. It probably doesn’t sound like much of a game, but it was actually pretty fun. The first few comments were always the same, but after that it broke off in different directions. Often the game took us on a hilarious ride with sudden changes in direction as three separate trains of thought attempted to travel the same track.

It’s been a while since I thought about this childhood game. Then a few nights ago, I woke up in the middle of the night and had a hard time falling back asleep. There were so many thing on my mind. My husband and children, extended family, friends, loved ones, and strangers…all suffering with different things. Heartache, loss, hardships, illness, life changes, loneliness, depression, belief, unbelief, big problems and small problems. Too many and too much to pray for the way I wanted to.

So I began a “Cottie Too” prayer instead. I started with one person and prayed for whoever came to mind next. A face came to mind, accompanied by a need. It was fast. Intense. Effective. I realized I didn’t have to spell it all out. God knew what I was trying to say, even if my thoughts were too jumbled to get out just right. The Spirit reassured me, in Romans 8:36, that this is true: “Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.”

What a beautiful reminder from my loving God. He doesn’t need me to fully explain myself, He doesn’t need a blueprint of my thought process, and He’s not bound by the same communication limitations that restrict me. Instead, He invites me to come to Him as a child goes to their father, and lay my wants and needs at His feet.

prayerI have a feeling I will be praying more like this in the future, and much more often. I am looking forward to more frequent visits to the throne of grace where I am promised “mercy” and “grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:16)

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First, a Thank You

1995-11-22 Mayhew Wedding8It’s been a while since I’ve written anything for my blog. Life, you know. But today is a special day and I want to acknowledge it somehow. It’s our “golden” wedding anniversary. Nathanael and I have been married 22 years today, November 22nd. Thanksgiving has always been a special time for us, a time we picked because we were thankful God brought us together. We were married in a Thanksgiving Eve church service in one of the simplest weddings I’ve ever witnessed. We became husband and wife in between the second hymn and the sermon. The only thing “normal” about our wedding was that I did wear a traditional white wedding dress.

Our wedding announcement had this passage from Colossians chapter 3: “And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which also you were called in one body; and be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.  And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.” (verses 15 and 16)

This was our marriage prayer, to yield to Christ, to be in His Word, and to be thankful.

So today I want to take a moment to be thankful. I don’t really have time for this. I’ve got two little boys fighting in the living room, a shower to take, a kitchen to clean, errands to run, organ to practice, and other writing to get to.

But first, a thank you.

Thank you, God, for twenty-two years with a Christian man. A man I can point my daughters to with confidence to and say, “Marry someone like your dad and you will be happy.” A man who directs me to Your Word when I have lost my way. A man who works tirelessly for our family.

Thank you, God, for seven (!) amazing children. For being with us through the sick nights, the ruptured appendix, the finger stuck in the treadmill, the concussion, the unfortunate trip downhill on the scooter, the scares. For the joys and triumphs, the spelling bee victory, the guitar and flute music, the sweet notes, hugs, kisses and giggles. Thank you for night time devotion and prayers and the privilege of leading these children to a knowledge of Jesus.

Thank you, God, for all the extra things. For three different homes, our first in Wisconsin, second in Georgia, and third in Minnesota. For eight different vehicles throughout the years, more food than we need, more clothes than we can wear, more toys than we can keep picked up and put away.

Thank you, God, for family and friends who lift us up when we are down. Who share our life with us, and who encourage us to walk the narrow path. Our parents, siblings, friends, church family, and school family. Those people who visit, call, write, and connect with us so we know we aren’t alone. They make our lives richer, our times happier, our sorrows less bitter.

Thank you, God, for the hard times. The times we struggled, couldn’t see eye-to-eye, the times we didn’t even like each other anymore. The times we wanted to give up, but didn’t. This is the thing I was ignorant of when I got married. I suppose every couple approaches marriage with a certain naïve optimism. Without it, maybe none of us would get married. I think maybe I thought our problems would be, if not non-existent, then at least smaller.  What I failed to realize it that those problems would make us stronger. Those challenging times would bring us closer. Not because we are strong people, but because God was there to do the heavy lifting for us.

Most importantly, thank you, God, for sending your Son Jesus to be our Savior. For the grace that saved us, and guarantees us a place in heaven. Thank you for forgiving us our many sins, and for leading us in Your Word. I don’t feel *quite* so naïve anymore. I know it’s all You.

These 22 years of marriage have gone by in the blink of an eye. Whatever time we have left will surely go by just as quickly. So, first, a thank you. Thank you for bringing us to this day. Second, a please. Please hold on to us for the days that remain and bring us safely Home when our journey here is done.

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Keep Me Until

I got her call as I was driving through the twin cities in end-of-Labor-Day-weekend traffic. “Mom,” she said, “I think I have a concussion.”

It hit me like a shot. I found myself scanning the road ahead for the best place to get off the west bound lane and head back east. I tried to think rationally about what was best. I tried not to panic. I ended up calling my mom, and she went to pick my daughter up from her boarding school and took her to the emergency room.

Sure enough, Hope has a concussion.

This experience has reminded me once again just how much I’ve learned in sending my children off to school. (Which I find a tad ironic since the education is supposed to be for them.) First and foremost, I’m learning to let go of my constant desire for control and to trust in God’s wisdom instead of my own.

The lessons are often painful, and I’m not the quickest study. With four of my seven away at school, I have lots of long phone conversations. Some are easy and light. Others are filled with struggles, sorrow, confusion and hurt. It’s time like these that I feel my heart pulling eastward, and my feet want to follow – if only to give them a hug.

I fight this lack of control because when I can’t be there for my children, or “fix” things, I feel helpless. After the concussion diagnosis, I found myself praying for Hope and it went something like this: “Dear Jesus, please be with Hope. Keep her safe until I can get there.”

My prayer jolted to a stop as I realized what I just said. Keep her until I can get there? What is that about? It seemed I was treating my Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier God like a stop-gap measure. Someone who would do in a pinch until the more capable help arrived. I thought about it another way. Having Jesus “keep her until” was a lot like putting the professional in charge until the amateur arrived. I wondered, if I were driving home in the middle of a Minnesota blizzard, in white-out conditions with blowing snow and icy roads, would I really want to pull over and let my four-year-old drive instead?

Of course not. Yes, loss of control is tough pill for parents to swallow. I want to spend 24 hours a day with Hope while she heals from this concussion. I want to make her soup and carry her books. I want to make sure she’s resting and keep her comfortable. I want to put the world on mute so that all those noises don’t aggravate the pain. (Full disclosure: I’m in the visitor’s room at her dorm right now. Typing this while she sleeps.) I want to control as much as I can when it comes to my precious children, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

But it is wrong for me to think my care and compassion it superior to Jesus’. It’s wrong to think He can’t do as good of a job as I can. It’s wrong to think He won’t keep His promise to be with Hope always, and to always do what is best for her. It’s wrong to think He doesn’t love her just as much, and more, than I do.

So tomorrow will come, and I’ll kiss her good bye and drive home. I will leave her safe in the arms of Jesus and when I start to worry I will pray, “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.” I will pray, “Lord, I can’t. But you can.” I will pray, “Jesus, help me remember. I don’t want you to keep me, or my children, or my family, or my friends, “until…” I want you to keep us always.”

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My Funeral

Better to go to the house of mourning
Than to go to the house of feasting,
For that is the end of all men;
And the living will take it to heart.
~Ecclesiastes 7:2

Yesterday we had a funeral for one of our church members, a wonderful woman whose name was Grace. There was no question about whether or not my husband or I would attend. He had to conduct the service and I was scheduled to play organ. But should we “make” our children go?

Grace had spent the last several years of her life in the nursing home, suffering from dementia. Aside from occasional visits, my children did not know her well. So when they asked me if they “had to go” to her funeral, I considered saying no. In fact, I may have said something like, “I don’t think so,” or “Probably not.”

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized what a mistake it would be for them to miss out on an opportunity to attend this funeral. So yesterday morning, I woke them and up, instructed them to dress in church clothes, and told them they were going to the funeral. My four-year-old was a bit puzzled. It wasn’t Sunday, and yet I was dressing him in a shirt and tie and getting him ready for church. “Mom,” he asked, “why do I have to go to the funeral?”

I thought carefully before answering him, and then explained the two reasons I wanted him there.

First, it’s important to attend funerals so that we may offer support and Christian love to the grieving family. As Christians, we understand that death is a good thing. We are deeply happy and thankful for the victory Christ won for the person who has passed. And yet, the earthly separation is painful. It’s only natural that we miss them and struggle to adjust to life without them. As I told Noah, “We are going because Grace was in our church family. And her children and grandchildren will be sad and lonely because she is gone. We need to let them know that we care about them and are praying for them.” This reason is easy to understand, even for a small child.

Second, funerals are a tangible reminder that our own death day is approaching, and they can help us prepare for this day. This reason was a little more difficult for Noah to understand, and I suppose I don’t blame him. No one likes to think about death. It’s likely the main reason most people dislike funerals or find them depressing. No one says, “Oh, yay! We have a funeral to attend on Saturday!” But like it or not, death is a real problem each one of us will face one day. By attending a Christian funeral, we are reminded that Jesus Christ has removed all fear of death and opened the doors to heaven for us. What a blessing to hear that message of grace!

I couldn’t help but think that yesterday’s funeral wasn’t really for Grace. She has already obtained her crown of life and has been gifted with eternal life. She is rejoicing in the presence of her Savior. Her funeral was more for her family and her friends, for me, and yes, for my children. It was for those of us who are following in her footsteps and still running our early race.

So it is with every Christian funeral I am able to attend before that day of my own funeral. They are precious opportunities be blessed with the message that Christ has conquered death, and to find comfort and joy in the knowledge that heaven is open to me.

There’s really no question about it. Such a funeral is always for me.

 

 

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Mother’s Day Gifts

Being a mom is hard work. I didn’t realize this at first. But when our first child was two weeks old and needed to go to the emergency room, it hit me hard: this job might be more than I bargained for. There is just so much to worry about. So much that can go wrong. So much to scare me and keep me awake at night. Worst of all, so much I can’t control. It’s the ultimate parenthood paradox: You are in charge, but never in control.

This weekend, the LORD has graciously given me several Mother’s Day gifts, in addition to the seven blessings I call my children. He has reminded me how I can calm the fears and anxieties that come with the job title “Mom.”

The Psalm 104 Gift: God is bigger than any problem I have.

Yesterday, I sat on the dock at the lake. With my knees pulled up against my chest and the wind lifting my hair, I couldn’t but feel very small. Insignificant. In awe of God’s power, found everywhere in His beautiful creation. I turned to my daughter and said, “I need to come here more often. God is reminding me that He is so much bigger than any problem I have.” Psalm 104 describes the power of God. He covers Himself with “light as with a garment…stretches out the heavens like a curtain…lays the beams of His upper chambers in the waters…makes the clouds His chariot…walks on the wings of the wind…” and “laid the foundations of the world.” Surely this God can take care of me, and my children, too.

The Psalm 46:10 Gift: God doesn’t need my help.

Hard to believe, I know, but it’s true. God doesn’t need or ask for my help. And no amount of worry, fretting or stressing will solve my problems. God says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10) Every fiber of my being struggles to “be still” and release control. When I’m most frustrated at home my kids are sure to hear, “If I don’t do it, nothing gets done around here!” That may be true of the dishes and laundry, but the big picture things I worry about? Those are for God, Who is fully capable and in control. I also like Exodus 14:14: “The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

The Romans 8:38-39 Gift: God holds me, and those I love, close to Him

While at the lake yesterday, I watched my two youngest sons build a sand castle at the water’s edge. As the waves lapped the castle’s foundations, it became clear that it wouldn’t last long. Noah took a flimsy reed and tried to bat the waves away from their castle – clearly a hopeless endeavor. My first thought was, This is exactly how I feel about raising my children in this sinful world. The dangers and harmful influences wash against us daily, and I’m helpless to stop them. They just keep coming and coming. In the end, I will fail. A second later, the LORD adjusted my thinking and reminded me that HE is the powerful wave, and the world is the flimsy sand castle. This is the gift of Romans 8:38-39, “For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” My salvation, my happy ending in heaven, doesn’t depend on how tightly I hold on to God, but how tightly He holds me. The same is true for my children.

So, those were my Mother’s Day gifts this year, and I am a happy, blessed, and (for the moment) calm mom indeed. No, it isn’t an easy job. Yes, there are days I cry on Nathanael’s shoulder and tell him I can’t handle it anymore. But all I need to remember is that God has given me the necessary strength and wisdom to do this job, as well as encouragement and support, in the pages of Scripture.

May Jesus bless and keep mothers everywhere as we seek to raise our children in His grace and for His glory!

 

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Loving His Gospel

Just about the time I was beginning to think spring might never come, there it was. Millions of the tiniest and palest green buds, unfolding in the trees. Branches are mostly bare still, but if you look closely you’ll find a haze of green as if God airbrushed the color in. Though it’s not much to look at yet, how that faint color lifts my spirits.

Thinking back to when the last leaf may have fallen, I’d guess it was sometime in early November. Which means we’ve had a good 6 months of winter. Six months is a long time to put up with bitter, driving wind, frigid temps and grey skies day after day. Six months! When you wait that long to hear a robin sing outside your bedroom window, or to feel a warm breeze on your face, or to let the kids ride bikes and climb trees, spring becomes something really special.

I doubt spring would be quite so wonderful, though, if I didn’t know the flip side of the coin – that cold and rigorous winter. In fact, I know I took it for granted when we lived in Georgia, where winter is shorter and milder, and spring is never far away. It’s a fundamental truth that we appreciate something more after we have had to go without it.

Today marks the second Sunday after Easter. Holy Week and the gut-wrenching passion of Christ are still fresh in my mind. As I journeyed through Holy Week, I confess I struggled somewhat to fully understand what Jesus’ death on the cross means for me personally. Though I want to fully appreciate it, sometimes I have a hard time doing so because there has not been a day in my life where I’ve had to “go without” it. Like the countless sunny spring days in Georgia, all too often I take Jesus and His great love for me for granted as well.

Lately, I’ve wondered if one of the reasons for this is that my meditation involves a little too much spring and not enough winter. Many churches today struggle to find this balance as well. We love, love, love that all-inclusive Gospel which tells us how much God loves us. But we are not so quick to open our ears to what must come first, and that is God’s Law. The cold, harsh reality of the law is succinctly stated in Romans 3:20, “By the Law is the knowledge of sin.” The law is a wintry gale that batters our souls and pushes at us until we are hunched over in agony and crying for deliverance, until we have no doubt that we are guilty before God, and helpless to change.

Just as winter makes me appreciate spring, so God’s law makes me appreciate the amazing grace found in His gospel to a much greater degree. Jesus said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance.” (Mark 2:17) His Law shows me just how deathly ill I am, so that when He reassures me with His gospel I am able to better appreciate what that cost was.

This morning, several days after I packed away all our mittens and winter hats, it began to snow. While the kids looked out the window and groaned, I had to smile. God has a special way of making it personal for me. Just as I was blessed during Holy Week and Easter to reacquaint myself with the price Jesus paid to redeem me, so now I am reminded that His grace is what sustains me every single day. Though “there is none righteous” (Romans 3:10), Jesus has given me new life through His work of salvation.

Yes, I’m grateful for the cold winter because it makes the warmth of spring all the more beautiful, and I’m still more thankful for the Law of God because it makes the new life of the Gospel the most beautiful gift of all.

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The Other Side of the Perfection Story

Earlier this week, my talented daughter Katherine wrote an article for The Witness about her fight to be perfect. I’ve gotten more feedback on Katie’s article, “A Perfectionist’s Guide to Being Perfect,” than on just about anything I’ve ever written. You can read Katie’s post here, but the gist of it is that she has felt pressure her entire life to be perfect, and the harder she tried, the more she seemed to fail. So she gave up trying and rebelled, damaging her relationships with her parents, teachers, and even some friends.

After the article was published, Katherine called me to make sure I was okay with it. I think I said something like, “Well, it was kind of hard to read. I’m still processing a lot of what happened.” I did try to look at her article objectively as a writer and acknowledge it for its merits on that count. The truth, though, is that I crumpled a little inside when I read it.

I wondered why she felt the need to share such a personal story with so many people. Though clearly not the main point, what hit me the hardest was this: None of this would have happened if her dad and I hadn’t pushed her so hard to be perfect. And there it was, laid bare for all to see. My failure.

That’s the other side of the perfection story. It’s not just our children who struggle with it. Parents struggle to be perfect too.

Have you ever seen the movie “Monsters, Inc.?” It’s based on the premise that monsters need the screams of children to power their city, so they sneak up on kids to scare them. At the same time, the monsters all believe children are actually toxic creatures, who can poison them with the slightest contact. So they have a monster hazmat team in place to deal with unexpected human contact. When monster/child contact occurs, they slam a red alarm button, shut down the scare floor, and scream “2319! We have a 2319!” 2319 is their code for “this must be contained.”

When Katie began to rebel, my mind screamed “2319! We have a 2319!”  I wondered what people would think about me if they knew what was happening within our family. I ran around in my little hazmat suit, trying to reach anyone and everyone she came into contact with so I could assure them of two things: 1) Her dad and I do not approve of condone her actions. 2) We are dealing with it objectively and firmly.

Of course, I couldn’t possibly “contain” a situation with so many moving parts. Eventually I had to do what I should have done right from the start. I had to turn it over to MY perfect and powerful Parent – my heavenly Father. I had to trust in his promise that if I trained my child in the way she should go, she would not depart from it. (Proverbs 22:6) Katie’s article was a joyful recognition of how God is faithful to keep all His promises.

Perhaps is seems to you that I have not really learned my lesson if I feel the need to write a blog post about what happened. It may well seem like I’m still running around yelling, “Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Let me explain my side of it!” For several days, I’ve gone back and forth on what to do. I don’t want to say I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore because as a Christian I would never want to offend with my words or actions. Yet in a certain way, I really don’t care. I don’t care if you know my daughter and I are infected with sin. I don’t care if you know we sometimes want to hide it. I don’t care if you know we don’t always see sin for what it is.

I care that we own up to it. I care that we all know the truth about sin, its real and serious consequences, and that the only solution for it lies in Jesus Christ.

Over and over throughout the past year, I have tried resist the “2319!” mindset. (Yes, I usually failed.) Because the truth is that, despite Katie’s sins and failures, and despite my sins and failures, we are both forgiven, cleansed, made new every day. In actuality it was this, and not my parenting failures, that was the real focus of Katherine’s article.

IMG_3811How amazing it is that we are sustained and held firm in the grace of our God, Who… “is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in mercy…He has not dealt with us according to our sins, nor punished us according to our iniquities. For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great is His mercy toward those who fear Him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us. As a father pities his children, so the LORD pities those who fear Him. For He knows our frame; He remembers we are dust.” (Psalm 103:8, 10-14)

I currently have 4 teenagers, and 3 up and coming. I have a feeling I’ve haven’t learned everything there is to know about the other side of the story. (I’m a little afraid to find out!) I pray that I have a least learned the lesson that when my children sin, it is not a reason to panic. Rather it’s an opportunity to examine my own heart and remember that both child and parent need to turn to Christ for forgiveness and healing. For “In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace.” Ephesians 1:7

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