Parenting

November 24, 2021 | Leave a Comment

Thanksgivings Past

I’m remembering Thanksgivings Past on this Thanksgiving Eve.

My husband’s family came to town in 2004, and I was the cook. I wanted everything to be perfect-perfect-perfect. It was disturbing. I was disturbing.

I did the whole maniac Thanksgiving routine. I got up at some wee hour to put the turkey in. I fixed an elaborate breakfast. I had the rest of the day timed out, when to put the pies in, the stuffing, the green bean casserole, all with military precision, but the stupid bird would not cooperate. We ended up eating an hour later than I’d planned, and I was furious.

By the time we sat down to eat I was so exhausted that I couldn’t enjoy the meal. All I have to show for it all is a photo I took of a perfectly set table.

How ironic. It’s supposed to be a day of Thanksgiving, remembering all of God’s gifts and basking in the knowledge of God’s love in giving those gifts, but I got stuck thinking that I had to manufacture the warm feelings. I convinced myself that it was all about what I had to accomplish and not about what God had already accomplished for me.

I saw a piece last night on the evening news about the growing number of friendsgivings that millennials are celebrating. We’re free to be ourselves, they said when interviewed. There’s not all the expectation.

What if we all gave up our overwrought expectations of Thanksgiving and just enjoyed the day? What if we all simply stopped long to bask in the knowledge of God’s love and provision, even in—especially—in the hard times? What if we all just enjoyed ourselves a little bit more?

You know, the best Thanksgiving I remember as a child was the year after my dad lost both his jobs. It was 1979. Somehow still, we ended up collecting every stray person from our neighborhood. Twenty-two people came over for dinner, and we didn’t have a big house. We certainly didn’t have a space at the table for 22 people, so 10 of us ate at the dining room table, and the other 12 people ate off a ping pong table that my dad set up in the living room. My sister was getting over a bad break up and invited the first cowboy she could find. He got drunk on my father’s Blue Nun table wine and tried to play hopscotch in the front yard with me. He was fine until he leaned over to pick up the stone in the third square. He fell over. I won. My sister drove him home and never saw him again.

For that free Grace bringing us past great risks
& thro’ great griefs surviving to this feast
sober & still, with the children unborn and born,
among brave friends, Lord, we stand again in debt
and find ourselves in the glad position: Gratitude.

(John Berryman, from “A Minnesota Thanksgiving”)

July 16, 2020 | 2 Comments

Practicing caution in an age of fear

When my son was very young, he developed a fascination with electrical outlets.

Yes, yes, we used the outlet covers, and, yes, yes, inevitably, he’d find the one recently used outlet where we’d forgotten to replace the cover.

It all stopped, though, the night he decided to see what would happen if he put tweezers in the bathroom outlet where I’d just been drying my hair. After a loud crack and a scream, we found him on the other side of the room in a heap, unharmed, but wiser. He never went near another outlet again with small metal objects.

By trial and error, cracks and screams, it could be said that we learn what to fear and what not to fear.

The Savior Jesus teaches again and again to fear nothing. In Luke 12 alone, he teaches on fear three times. “I tell you, my friends, do not fear those who kill the body, and after that can do nothing more” (12:4), and again, “Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life” (12:22), and again, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (v. 32).

But, my son needed to fear electrical outlets, didn’t he? Fear is good, isn’t it, if it keeps us safe?

No.

To fear something or someone is to give it power over us–at times, more power than God. Raw fear cripples us. It makes enemies of friends, and it rips neighbors apart. Raw fear makes us stupid. [Read more…]

May 8, 2019 | Leave a Comment

A different Mother’s Day

This Mother’s Day is different. I’m getting ready to send my firstborn baby out into the world. In less than ten days, she’ll graduate from high school, and in three months she’ll head to college. Hand me the Kleenex now, and keep them coming.

Parenthood isn’t easy. Remember the Proverbs 31 woman? She’s a mother who works in the home and outside of it, gets up early, goes to bed late, buys land, plants a crop, gives to the poor, helps out the needy, and finds time to make her own clothes. She gives up a lot, mostly sleep, and probably a little free time, too, but what matters is what she gives: she gives confidence to her family, and wisdom, and kindness.

Like every mother of every generation, she gives for no better reason than love.

If any mother tries to tell you differently, on one of those lousy days when we’re feeling sorry for ourselves because the kids won’t behave and the school called again, the car won’t start, the washer’s leaking, and the paycheck didn’t quite stretch as far enough, and you hear us moaning, “Oh, I’m doing it all for the sake of my children…Oh, I think nothing of myself!,” don’t believe her. Just smile, and nod, and hand her another cup of coffee.

Here’s the little secret mothers like to keep to ourselves on those bad days: We get back just as much as we give. No mother gets paid for being a mother, not in dollars and cents. A mother’s payment is love in return. That’s why we do it.

This Mother’s Day, let’s thank our moms profusely for all they’ve done for us. Let’s thank God for them. Let’s remember and give thanks for all the kindnesses, large and small, and especially for the gift of faith in Jesus Christ, which so many of our mothers passed on to us.

But, also, we mothers might take the opportunity to thank our children, for all they have done and are doing to make us wiser, more patient and holier people, and for bringing us joy.

As my daughter heads off into adulthood, there’s a certain peace that comes with knowing I’ve done all I can do. Of course, the peace alternates with terror. What if all I’ve done wasn’t enough? Both the peace and the terror are eventually overcome, though, by gratitude. Thank you, baby, for letting me be your mother.

Finally, let’s all thank God, the source of life and love. We love, after all, because He first loved us.

Bible Verse of the Day