tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75662843029890724992024-03-13T13:41:50.725-05:00Thoughts From the MinivanJust one mama's musings about her life, her family, and her walk with God...Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.comBlogger188125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-89954133984808901592014-12-28T13:25:00.001-06:002014-12-28T13:25:31.876-06:00<span style="background-color: #f9fafb; font-family: arial, helvetica, 'sans serif'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.136001586914063px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #f9fafb; font-family: arial, helvetica, 'sans serif'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.136001586914063px;"><i>Keep me as the apple of your eye.... (Psalm 17:8)</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f9fafb; font-family: arial, helvetica, 'sans serif'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.136001586914063px;"><i><br /></i></span>
Growing up, I always wanted to be someone's favorite. I was the middle child in a blended family, so always felt pretty much like I just was...there. I wasn't the oldest. I wasn't the pretty one. My father died 2 weeks before I was born, and I carried with me the idea that I brought back really bad memories for my mom, who was distant and depressed most of my life. My stepfather was unemotional (unless he was angry or disapproving) and unloving.<br />
<br />
My sister and I loved being with our extended family. They were funny and loving and we felt special. But even then, we were kept separate from them, so we don't share a lot of the same memories. My mom moved us away from them early in life, so we only were able to spend summers here and there with them. We never were able to spend time with our father's side of the family....something I still struggle with today. I long to know them better, but feel at 48 like I've missed that opportunity.<br />
<br />
As adults now, we find that we are just...on our own. We have each other, my sister and I. At Christmas this year we commiserated over it as we watched my children try to fit in, but they had that same look on their faces that Melissa and I had. We just weren't an intricate part of that family. We didn't belong. We weren't their favorite.<br />
<br />
My children don't even know my mother. The last time she visited, Tucker and Griffin were 2 and 4. She has never met Annie. They quit asking about her long ago, after years of asking why she didn't visit, didn't call, didn't remember their birthdays.<br />
<br />
<i>I should interject here, lest you feel sorry for my kids, that Paul's mom adores the kids and spoils them. They love her so much....we all do. She drops whatever she has going on to help us out when we need it. She travels hundreds of miles to babysit when we need her. They are the grandmother that my kids need, and I am so thankful to God for her. </i><br />
<br />
I longed to be special to someone. As I got older, I wished that some boy would come along and adore me. I wasted a lot of time and gave away a lot of my heart to some fellas that were not worthy of it. But that is a. another story and b. the reason I want my kids to court, not date.<br />
<br />
One day I was reading my Bible and came across Psalm 17:8 and it just gripped me. Keep me as the apple of your eye. Was *I* the apple of His eye? I looked it up and found this as explanation:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: #f9fafb; font-family: arial, helvetica, 'sans serif'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.136001586914063px;"> </span><strong id="yui-gen24" style="border: 0px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; font-family: arial, helvetica, 'sans serif'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 17.136001586914063px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: top;">Apple, of the Eye:</strong></blockquote>
<blockquote>
ap'-'-l: The eyeball, or globe of the eye, with pupil in center, called "apple" from its round shape. Its great value and careful protection by the eyelids automatically <span style="white-space: nowrap;">closing<u> </u></span>when there is the least possibility of danger made it the emblem of<b> that which was most precious and jealously protected.</b></blockquote>
And it all made sense to me. I am most precious to God. My children are jealously protected by Him. Earthly relationships are just that.....earthly. Eternally, my family is loved and prized and viewed as precious by the Creator of the universe.<br />
<br />
My Christian family has always taken care of us. In illness, childbirth, postpartum depression, emergency rooms....it's the church that has shown up and loved us. Taken care of us. Made us feel important, remembered, and cared for. It was people that sometimes barely knew us that were the hands and feet of Jesus. It was truly Christ in them...the hope of glory.<br />
<br />
So while I may long for someone to love my kids like I do....someone to show up at their games and recitals, someone to tell them they are smart, funny and handsome....I know that we are blessed beyond measure to be members of a worldwide family of believers that love us and pray for us. From the Kings in Ecuador to the Rayburns in Argentina. The Stewarts in south Asia. The Benders and Lawrensons on the Outer Banks. The Howells in south Florida. The Samplers and The Fowlers. Our phenonmenal family from Our Lady of Perpetual Help, who taught us the beauty of their faith and the love of family.<br />
<br />
And more than anything, we are loved by God the Father. We are the apple of His eye. We are that precious and protected part of Him.<br />
<br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-53774240407777332932014-12-28T13:10:00.000-06:002014-12-28T13:11:04.720-06:00This morning I read on a friend's Facebook page <a href="http://m.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2014/01/it-is-expensive-to-be-poor/282979/">the link to a piece about the poor</a>. One of the responses to her post was <i>"I'm tired of helping those people</i>".<br />
<br />
It actually hurt my heart.<br />
<br />
The person said that she was tired of people on food stamps being able to shop at "high end" stores while she shopped at Aldi's. That she had tried feeding homeless people that threw her food back at her, wanting only money.<br />
<br />
I hear that a lot, and it never fails to make me cringe. You see, I have spent a lot of time around impoverished people. I have worked alongside them. I have fed them and clothed them and taught my children to love them because they are, after all, created in the very image of God.<br />
<br />
I certainly can't make a case for every person out there that is on food stamps or medicaid or holding a cardboard sign in an effort to collect a few bucks, but I can speak for the people that I have come to know and pray for and, well, actually<i> love. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>First, let me start with the "I tried to give them a Big Mac and they said they didn't want it" people. One gentleman shared with me that he couldn't eat fast food because it gave him wicked diarrhea, and when you're on the street, diarrhea and no public restrooms in sight are not a good combination. Use your imagination here.....and let's just leave it at that.<br />
<br />
I've never heard (which is not to say it hasn't happened, of course) of a homeless person turning away a healthy sandwich or fruit, water or crackers. Their bodies are malnourished (even if they're obese; see the latest study by the NIH on homelessness and obesity) so they actually <i>crave</i> nutrition. I heard a homeless woman at Wendy's one time turn down a Frosty being offered to her, saying, "I can't eat that, it makes me snotty." I could tell by the giver's face that she was appalled that a homeless, poor woman wouldn't accept her $1 charitable gift. But think about it. Dairy makes a LOT of people mucous-y. If you are living outside in allergy season,<i> do you really want more snot in your head than you already have? </i>Did this woman know how to verbalize that? Obviously not. But to become offended and walk away to tell your friends that you graciously tried to give a homeless woman a Frosty and she refused it.....well, that's a great story to tell, isn't it?<br />
<br />
After all....those people don't really want our help, now, do they?<br />
<br />
And what about those freeloaders at Whole Foods buying organic apples when I'm buying my $5 bag of pesticide ridden ones at Wal Mart?<br />
<br />
First of all....very few poor people can crunch their food stamp budget enough to buy organic, but if they can and do, then more power to them. I rather like the idea of a poor single mama buying organic for her children. However, that is not the common thread of poverty. Most food stamp purchases are for cheap, non-nutritious foods, because they are, well, cheap. Most moms know the value of bread and fillers when they have a lot of mouths to feed and we're trying to stretch a meal. My mom was a big pasta filler. She'd make a goulash for a family of 6 with one pound of ground beef and 2 pounds of noodles. My sister one time told me she made a Chinese stir fry for her family with ONE chicken breast, a few veggies, and rice. Rice, potatoes, pasta and bread are dirt cheap and can fill empty tummies. What I tend to see in too many shopping carts are bologna, bread, ramen, and little debbies. You can buy a LOT of crap for your allotted EBT money each month. Organic veggies? Notsomuch.<br />
<br />
And really? I think if Jesus were going to head down to feed some hungry people, He'd pretty likely give them the very best.<br />
<br />
<i>Shouldn't we do the same? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-6324437703012926532014-12-28T13:08:00.001-06:002014-12-28T13:08:31.569-06:00Guilt....a good thing?Mommy guilt. It's a common phrase heard all the world over. For no matter who you are or where you live, along with the title "Mama" comes a familiar feeling: <i>guilt.</i> It all starts with the need to make a decision about something.<br />
<br />
Epidural or medication-free.<br />
<br />
Breast or bottle.<br />
<br />
To circumcise or leave intact.<br />
<br />
Vaccinate or not.<br />
<br />
Make your own baby food or buy pre-made.<br />
<br />
Cloth or disposable.<br />
<br />
Homeschool, private school or public school.<br />
<br />
Work at home, outside the home, or stay at home.<br />
<br />
The list is never-ending. And as you're bound to discover, <i>everyone</i> has an opinion. And most are passionate about it. While it makes for good debate on the playground or message board, let's face it: when you get home and are alone, we all tend to question our decisions. Are they the right ones for us? For our family?<br />
<br />
And as most of us have found out, guilt comes into play at some point. Not to say sometimes we don't have a choice. I was fortunate to stay home for 7 years while my kids were very small. Now I'm back to work full time. Do I need to be home? Absolutely. Do I have to work? Absolutely. Do I feel guilty enjoying my job? You bet. Do I feel guilty not even being a room mom? Yes indeed.<br />
<br />
See? There is no easy answer for some questions.<br />
<br />
But some decisions? The data is there. How we <strike>rationalize</strike> interpret it is up to us. Recently I got into a conversation with someone who was afraid that moms might feel guilty when I suggest they should breastfeed instead of formula feed. My response is simple: do we patronize the moms that choose to smoke? How about the ones that choose not to put their infant in a car seat properly? How about the ones that leave their little one strapped in said car seat in the middle of the summer and run an errand?<br />
<br />
I have looked a mom in the eye and told her that if she formula feeds, her child will have a *100% increased risk of ear infections, 178% higher risk of diarrheal disease, 257% higher risk of hospitalization for respiratory infections, 64% higher risk of diabetes, and a 56% higher risk of SIDS.....and I've had that mother look straight at me and say she chooses to not breastfeed.<br />
<br />
<i>To which I reply, <strike>"You go, girl. I'll see you and that precious bundle of yours at 3 a.m. in the ER."</strike> "Please consider the facts, and call me if you have any questions or change your mind."</i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span>Guilt is a motivating factor for many. Many moms have heard my plea and agree to breastfeed. Many of them go on to breastfeed for a year or more. Some breastfeed while they are in the hospital and then quit the moment they hit the door. They tell me in follow up calls that their milk dried up or they weren't making enough or the pediatrician told them they had to wean. And you know what? I praise those moms for giving their baby those few days of colostrum. I tell them that the colostrum still sealed their babies intestines and their precious ones got antibodies and all sorts of good things that can never be taken away.<br />
<br />
According to the journal <i>Pediatrics</i>:<br />
<blockquote>
<i>“If 90% of US families could comply with medical recommendations to breastfeed exclusively for 6 months, the United States would save $13 billion per year and prevent an excess 911 deaths, nearly all of which would be in infants ($10.5 billion and 741 deaths at 80% compliance).”</i> </blockquote>
I hate guilt. But it does serve a purpose. It keeps me from eating another brownie. It gets me to quit playing Words with Friends and go take a bike ride with my kids.<br />
<br />
And it just may persuade one more mom to breastfeed.<br />
<br />
*<a href="http://www.surgeongeneral.gov/topics/breastfeeding/index.html"><i>statistics from The Surgeon General's Call to Action to Support Breastfeeding</i></a>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-5996328517968372502014-01-25T21:42:00.000-06:002014-01-25T21:42:01.629-06:00Low Milk Supply....or not?I have never met a single mother who hasn't at one time or another wondered whether she was making enough milk for her child. I thought it with my first baby. I recall vividly laying on our sofa nursing my sweet little boy and crying, on the phone with anyone who would listen as I explained his 45 minute nursing sessions, 15 minute nap, and then the rooting for another meal. Certainly I wasn't making enough milk for this little <strike>boob-leech</strike> precious bundle.<br />
<br />
"How are his diapers?"<i> Fine. 6-8 wet; 3-5 seedy, yellow stools.</i><br />
<br />
"How is his weight?" <i>Fine. Back to birth weight by 2 weeks and steady gain after.</i><br />
<br />
"Then you're fine."<br />
<br />
<i>What?</i> Certainly these chicks on the other end of the phone didn't mean to imply that I was actually, well, <i>making enough milk for my baby?</i><br />
<br />
I pumped. I never got more than an ounce. If that. Oh my, this child would definitely starve.<br />
<br />
"Why are you pumping?" asked the pediatrician, when I casually mentioned that perhaps she should force me to give some sort of supplement since my precious one was, after all, starving.<br />
<br />
<i>Why was I pumping?</i> Isn't that what you're SUPPOSED to do? I bought a Medela Pump In Style because, well, <strike>I'm a sucker who does what she sees anyone else do</strike> that's what all pregnant moms do.<br />
<br />
Suspicious, I picked up a flyer in that same pediatricians office and found myself at a La Leche League meeting, where I learned all I needed to know about mothering. About supply and demand. Unlimited and unscheduled feedings. That co-sleeping was not just OK, but they reinforced what I knew in my heart -- that it was better for both of us. Everyone oohed and aahed over my little newborn and told me I was doing well.<br />
<br />
That group of granola-esque mamas saved my sanity and my little Tucker's life. He has only been sick a couple of times in his 12 year existence and I can proudly boast that the little fellow has only been on one antibiotic ever.<br />
<br />
<i>And he is brilliant. Really.</i><br />
<br />
My second boy? Honestly I never contemplated milk supply. I tandem nursed Tucker and Griffin for over a year -- including all night, every night -- and perhaps I was too sleep deprived and semi-conscious to wonder.<br />
<br />
<i>Nah.</i><br />
<br />
My body made enough milk to sustain a newborn (a chunky one at that) and a rambunctious toddler (who was never a fan of the solids, save for pizza) and I spent a blissful 3 years in nursing oblivion.<br />
<br />
Then came my third, finger sucking, never good at the breast daughter. Plugged ducts and an actual low supply proved that underwires really were overrated and Fenugreek really did made one's skin smell like maple syrup. Oatmeal became my constant companion. I was hydrated for perhaps the first time in my life. Now I knew what a low supply was.<br />
<br />
The latch that I knew was never quite right.<br />
<br />
The constant look of hunger in her little face.<br />
<br />
The drinking at the breast and then repeated bursts of rapid sucking in a frustrated attempt to get another letdown.<br />
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The slow weight gain. <br />
<br />
The one stool every 6-7 days.<br />
<br />
I was able to get my supply up enough to keep her nursing for 18 months. I'd have given anything to keep her at my breast. She was (and still is) an independent gal with a mind of her own. So I take what I can get and treasure the memories (even the memories of her and I spending late nights on the sofa so as not to wake anyone, watching marathons of "Dog the Bounty Hunter". Don't ask.)<br />
<br />
I've come to realize, not only in my own personal experience but also my professional, that our bodies are made to produce enough milk for the child (or children) we are currently nursing. No more, no less. Just enough.<br />
<br />
In our society where more is more and the practice of hoarding is now a reality show, I talk to moms every day who are anxious because they aren't able to nurse full time and get a freezer stash going fast enough.<br />
<br />
<i>Really, it isn't normal to produce so much that you have a roly-poly baby </i><i>and<b> </b>87 bags of frozen milk in the deep freeze. </i><br />
<br />
Herbs and prescription meds to increase supply should be your last resort. Actually, I wouldn't suggest them unless there is a weight issue with baby. I have moms who start Fenugreek as soon as their milk comes in. They want more, more, MORE milk now.<br />
<br />
It isn't natural.<br />
<br />
We as a society need to embrace the concept of moderation, of slowing down, of letting nature take it's course. By all means, intervene when there is a problem, but for the vast majority of moms, there isn't an actual problem, only a<i> perceived</i> problem.<br />
<br />
Bottom line? Just nurse your baby. Snuggle -- a lot. Take warm baths together and sleep right next to each other. Let him or her nurse all.night.long. (That is truly when they get their best nursing in!) Eat well. Drink to thirst. Eat oats.<br />
<br />
I venture to say that if you do what you know in your heart is the right thing to do, you will be just fine. God gave us that marvelous thing called "mother's intuition" for a reason, and He made babies to know precisely what to do in order to not only survive, but thrive.<br />
<br />
*<i>Remind yourself of this next time a marathon nursing session has you contemplating cutting off your breast and leaving it in the bed while you go to the bathroom.</i><br />
<br />
So. Forget the freezer stash.<br />
<br />
You need room for more ice cream, anyway.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-66194913580424395482013-03-17T22:28:00.000-05:002013-03-17T22:28:36.355-05:00Change the world...My family has been watching The History Channel's miniseries "The Bible" for the past few weeks and the kids have been waiting (im)patiently for Jesus to come on the scene. <br />
<br />
<i>As an aside, they have heard Bible stories all their lives, so they were rapt with attention to detail...and sorry, Mark Burnett, but according to 9 year old Griffin, you got quite a few details wrong.</i><br />
<br />
So tonight, much to our delight, Jesus was born. <br />
<br />
Annie and I cried. Really, we did.<br />
<br />
It was so real, so dirty, so beautiful....a newborn baby born in a stinky, dirty stable. <br />
<br />
I thought immediately of the Mark Lowry song "Mary Did You Know?".....as I looked at the young actress portraying the Mother of our Lord, gazing into the face of God -disguised as a newborn baby- I wonder what she thought. I wonder how it felt to know that your child was born of God. Was God. Is God. <br />
<br />
But then...<br />
<br />
Fast forward to when Jesus comes on the scene, coming to be baptized by his cousin (who, by the way, was rocking some righteous dreadlocks). I loved the baptism scene. I loved the scene with Peter even more. <br />
<br />
"What are we going to do?"<br />
<br />
"Change the world."<br />
<br />
I smiled....no, I grinned from ear to ear, with tears streaming down my face.<br />
<br />
After all, that's precisely what Jesus tells each of us. He calls us to follow him, just like he called the original disciples. Those boys dropped their nets and abandoned ship....literally. Sadly, we don't do the same. We list 67 excuses why right NOW isn't convenient for us. We tell Jesus our list of to-do's just can't be postponed. Our kids have a dentist appointment. Our jobs have deadlines. Dinner needs to be cooked. That extra money was going for a new car. <br />
<br />
"Change the world."<br />
<br />
I wonder....if we knew that our obedience would bring the Kingdom a little closer....would we do it?<br />
<br />
If it meant that a hungry child would eat tonight....would we do it?<br />
<br />
If it meant that a dying man would meet His Savior....would we do it?<br />
<br />
"What are we going to do?"<br />
<br />
"Change the world."<br />
<br />
<i>Will you?</i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-71077572119472190252013-03-06T17:31:00.001-06:002013-03-06T17:31:29.485-06:00On the Road Again...I hate moving. Have I ever mentioned that?<br />
<br />
You'd never know it by looking at our family's moving history. While I don't take the entire blame for our gypsy-like roaming, I suppose at some point I could have put my proverbial foot down and insisted we stay put. However, I wanted my husband to be happy and content, and so we have moved. And moved. And moved a few more times. <br />
<br />
I can say with 100% accuracy that God has orchestrated all of our moves....doors opened miraculously, jobs and homes found easily....so part of me says that God moved us this many times. I can see in each place we've lived at least ONE reason that God placed us in that particular place at that particular time. <br />
<br />
So how do I answer people who make fun of us? Some are well meaning, just kidding kind of folks. But there's a whole other realm of "kidding" -- the point at which it actually hurts. What I want to say is "Take it up with God. Make fun of HIM. He's the one that keeps us hopping." <br />
<br />
But then I wonder.....is it Him? Or is it me? <br />
<br />
And if it is me....is that bad? <br />
<br />
I have always said I wanted roots. I wanted my children to know one place as HOME. I moved so much as a child that I never felt secure or a sense of belonging. <br />
<br />
That's IT! Belonging. I don't know where I fit. In Manteo, I was Paul South the columnist's wife. In Bardstown, I was the new mom in town (and the Editor's wife). In Biloxi....now <i>there</i> I can say I fit. I loved it. Loved the people, loved my house. But hubs wanted to go to seminary and he was in a bit of a post-Katrina depression/funk/job thing, so we moved to New Orleans (when most of the city wasn't even up and running again). <br />
<br />
I fell in love with this city. I love the culture, the music, the food, the language, the color. I love my job. I love being a part of someplace so unique. I never thought I'd leave. <br />
<br />
Until we left. It's difficult to live in this city without a good bit of money. Schools cost a small salary (unless you're brave enough to send your kids to public school or lucky enough to make the Lusher lottery). We felt we had no choice financially but to leave.<br />
<br />
But....<br />
<br />
Lafayette stunk. There's no other way to say it. I regretted it the moment we got there, and it only got worse. I was hated at my new job and had no one to back me up. I knew instantly that I wouldn't be able to stick it out. But the stubborn part of me didn't want to give in and move back because of what others would say about me...about us. <br />
<br />
Eventually the whole family was begging to go back to New Orleans, and so we came back to try to make it again. And again, we stretched and saved and sacrificed as long as we were able. Illness made us realize we were all alone without a back up plan. Well meaning friends are always available, but when you're looking at life and death situation, you need family. You just do.<br />
<br />
So here we are again, on the cusp of a new adventure. I won't say it's our last move....I can't see into the future. But I hope and pray it is. I hope that the kids make amazing friends and love their schools.<br />
<br />
I hope we all find contentment and peace and joy. <br />
<br />
I hope we all feel a sense of belonging. <br />
<br />
I hope we all feel we are finally <i>home</i>.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-59104948285811960472013-01-13T20:48:00.001-06:002013-01-13T20:56:11.369-06:00ImpressionsYesterday while perusing Facebook, I ran across a picture my aunt had posted on my sister's wall. It was a picture of my dad as a teenager. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i280PGKscXI/UPNlT8VoBFI/AAAAAAAAB2M/nCnOSF0zWLs/s1600/dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i280PGKscXI/UPNlT8VoBFI/AAAAAAAAB2M/nCnOSF0zWLs/s320/dad.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Yes, I inherited my father's eyebrows.<br />
<br />
Now, I've seen a lot of pictures of my daddy over the years, and I've seen this one before. But when I looked at it yesterday, I saw my Griffin. Plain as day. It was Griffin's goofy little 9 year old face staring back at me. So I went and grabbed a picture off of the wall of my dad as a young boy.........and sure enough, it was my little Chi-Chi. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rQ11VoQmLnA/UPNl_H7nw8I/AAAAAAAAB2Y/TAfrkqJ_B3g/s1600/griffie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rQ11VoQmLnA/UPNl_H7nw8I/AAAAAAAAB2Y/TAfrkqJ_B3g/s320/griffie.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Griffin got a big kick out of the picture. "He looks just like me!" he exclaimed. <br />
<br />
Sadly, my father died 2 weeks before I was born. I never knew him. But I know <i>of <i></i></i> him.<br />
<br />
My entire knowledge of my dad comes from stories I've heard from my family. My mom, my aunts, grandparents....they are the ones that created the image I have of my father. <br />
<br />
It's funny when you think about it. What someone SAYS about a person becomes the truth of that person's existence. <br />
<br />
It makes me think about what I say about my children, my husband....my God. <br />
<br />
When others don't know who I'm talking about, my stories <i>define</i> that person to them. <br />
<br />
Ouch.<br />
<br />
I don't know about you, but I tend to worry/complain/stress/whine a LOT. I don't intend to...but I always wind up "venting". It is one of my worst qualities, and I've fallen under conviction in recent months to stop it. <br />
<br />
<i>Isn't it funny how God begins to orchestrate change in your heart months before you can see the problem clearly?</i><br />
<br />
My New Year's resolution was to have a more "gentle and quiet spirit" (1 Peter 3:4)<br />
and more specifically, Ephesians 4:29: <i>Do not let any talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.</i> <br />
<br />
I don't want to give others the impression that my Lord is not able to solve my problems. I have no reason to worry or fret or complain. He is abundantly able to do far more than I can think or imagine.....He always has and always will.<br />
<br />
When I am surrounded by unbelievers, it is my job to relate to them that Jesus is my Healer, my Savior, my Everything. He is the Master Problem Solver. <br />
<br />
So, if you run into me and I'm talking trash about my family or giving my Lord a bad name, just <strike>smack</strike> nudge me and say "Ephesians 4:29".<br />
<br />
After all, I readily admit I need the accountability.<br />
<br />
And really....who doesn't need a good Scriptural slap in the face every now and then? ;-)<br />
<br />
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-10338174501346224342012-12-13T15:09:00.000-06:002012-12-13T15:09:50.947-06:00TraditionChristmas is just shy of two weeks away, and on Facebook and Pinterest friends are discussing whether they "do" Santa and voicing their opinions on those crazy Elves on the Shelves.<br />
<br />
I don't begrudge anyone a right to their opinion, but I do have to admit that as a child....well, actually until I got married and no longer woke up on Christmas morning in my mom's house, Santa stuffed our stockings and left us presents (unwrapped and all assembled) under the tree. He always ate a few bites of the cookies and drank some of the milk. Even long after we knew the truth, we still giggled at night and waited anxiously for morning to come so we could run in to see what the fat man left. <br />
<br />
My sister, my brothers and I all accepted Christ at young ages (between 6-8 for all of us). Maybe we're all extraordinarily gifted, but we never once misunderstood the gospel message or thought that our mother was lying to us just because she played up the idea of Santa Claus to us. <br />
<br />
My parents and grandparents lied about plenty while raising us ("don't make that face; it'll get stuck that way", "kids who drink coffee don't grow" or "coffee will put hair on your chest" <i>(obviously I had an issue with coffee even then)</i>....and yet it didn't alter my perception of what real truth is. Sometimes it's really ok for a child to learn truth as they grow up on their own. I believed I'd catch a cold if I went outside with wet hair until I was in college microbiology. <i>And that's ok.</i><br />
<br />
When Paul and I started out our parenting career, we discussed the whole thing and I was feeling led to focus only on the birth of Jesus and not "do" Santa. <br />
<br />
That lasted one year. Paul and I both missed the traditions we grew up with and didn't want our kids to miss out on the fun. <br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong....my kids know all about St. Nicholas and the origins of "Santa Claus". We totally celebrate the birth of Christ and we celebrate the Advent and read the Biblical account (we just read Mary's Magnificat last night)....and yet we somehow have successfully combined that with the tradition of Santa and reindeer and cookies & milk.<br />
<br />
We even have an <gasp> Elf on the Shelf. We've had him since 2006. <br />
<br />
This is Little Dave: <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uGgXcTtfqFA/UMo8VCIi-LI/AAAAAAAAB10/kimYOZioxHU/s1600/45322_4849418189789_511749323_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uGgXcTtfqFA/UMo8VCIi-LI/AAAAAAAAB10/kimYOZioxHU/s320/45322_4849418189789_511749323_n.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Last night he pulled nursery duty.<br />
<br />
The kids thought it was a hoot.<br />
<br />
Lest you think my kids are a bunch of imbeciles, my 6th grader is finishing his first semester at <a href="http://www.holycrosstigers.com">Holy Cross</a>with all A's. Griffin is knocking out all A's in 3rd, and Annie is the only kindergartner in her school that is reading through the Little House on the Prairie series like other 6 year olds are reading Green Eggs and Ham.<br />
<br />
What I'm saying is that my kids are smart kids who know the truth of Jesus and what His birth meant, and continues to mean, to all humankind. My kids actually have a much better grasp on what Christmas really means than either Paul or I did at their ages.<br />
<br />
So amidst the lists pleading for new electronics and Legos and Barbies, my kids will bake a birthday cake and have a party on Christmas Eve for Jesus. We will write down our gifts to Him for the next year and place them in His stocking....and we will take out what we wrote last year and talk about how we did or didn't do and what we can do to help each other in the next year. We will read Luke's account of Jesus' birth and we will join hands and pray.<br />
<br />
And then the kids will say goodbye to Dave for another year and we will <strike>dose them up with Melatonin</strike> persuade them to go to bed until morning. We'll stay up late getting everything together and ready and put them under the tree. <br />
<br />
And when all is said and done, I have a feeling that my kids will have memories of our family traditions and be okay with it all. <br />
<br />
Merry Christmas.<br />
<br />
<br />
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-16464416293509544422012-11-27T23:27:00.001-06:002012-11-27T23:27:39.449-06:00A New Season<i>In the morning I will have a complete hysterectomy. </i><br />
<br />
I will never again live in a state of "what if?!?!" when my period is late.<br />
<br />
I will never again feel the absolute THRILL of seeing the stick turn pink. <i>{and doing 7 more tests...just to be sure...}</i><br />
<br />
I will never again feel the queasiness that only a newly pregnant woman knows. <br />
<i>{You know, when you smile while you're puking because you're so stinking happy that your hormone levels are high, yet you feel so crappy that you'd sell your right arm for a Phenergan or Zofran.}</i><br />
<br />
I will never again feel those first kicks and flips and flutters of an actual human being inside your body. <i>{and wonder, to yourself only, is it gas or is it the baby? and who can I ask? or should I just stay quiet until I'm sure?...}</i><br />
<br />
I will never again scour baby name books or family trees in search of the perfect name. <i>{I never got to use some of my favorites: Nolan, Bennett, Owen, Marshall, Mary Paige, Avery, Evelyn, Greer...}</i><br />
<br />
I will never again sit up late at night doing crossword puzzles while having contractions and wonder "is this it?" <i>{is it a cramp? should I call the doctor? nah, I don't want to wake him up. should I?}</i><br />
<br />
I will never again hear that first cry and think to myself "There really WAS a baby in there!!" <i>{there is honest to God no better sound in the world!}</i><br />
<br />
My brain knows without question that I am ready for this...but my heart....my heart is what prompted me to ask the ultrasound tech if she saw a heartbeat anywhere in the midst of my 47 year old fibroid filled uterus during a pre-op test. <i> {Her answer was a sad, puzzled look that said "oh-my-God-is-this-woman-psychotic??} </i><br />
<br />
I will admit I've shed a lot of tears in the past month. And I'm pretty sure there are a lot more to come. <br />
<br />
David wrote in Psalm 30 "Weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning."<br />
<br />
<i>Is it morning yet?</i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-46655604497448342482012-11-20T00:03:00.001-06:002012-11-20T00:05:56.390-06:00LibaThanksgiving is just a few days away, and on Facebook, friends are listing things they are thankful for each and every day. I'm not sure why I didn't jump on the bandwagon...after all, that sounds like something I'd do.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong...I have a ton to be thankful for. This year I suppose I feel a little guilty being all happy and thankful and all "look how good I have it!" -- when over in Israel, my sweet friend Liba and her family are having to lock themselves in their safe room each day when sirens blare, indicating rockets are flying over her house. Liba has 4 children. A husband. A job. She is no different than me, other than the fact that she chose to raise her children in her husband's homeland. Israel. God's country. <br />
<br />
So while I'm over here making my grocery list for my white chocolate bread pudding, Liba is sleeping pretty poorly, probably with one eye open while she waits and wonders. <br />
<br />
My lack of sleep will only come from hot flashes and night sweats. I live in a city known for it's violent crime....and yet I sleep in peace, knowing we are not at war. There will be no missles, no threatened ground attack. <br />
<br />
I watch the news and hear politicians and wonder if no one has read the Bible. It's all written out there for them. I'd trust the Author Himself over some foreign correspondent or "expert" on Middle East affairs.<br />
<br />
But that's just me.<br />
<br />
I look at my children and fear what is coming. I've always believed in a pre-tribulation rapture, and right now I'm hoping I'm right. I cannot bear the thought of my children having to live in a world like the one into which we are heading. I wonder if we were wrong to have kids. I remember the 9/11 attacks --- I was one week away from delivering Tucker --- and I recall wondering what was going to happen...never in a million years thinking that one day not too far away the Middle East would be in the situation it's in, with terrorists taking over and threatening to destroy Israel. <br />
<br />
I pray for my friend, and for her neighbors and friends. I pray that God will protect them and watch over them tonight and every night. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FZt2jvKPH9k/UKsdAquqcvI/AAAAAAAAB1E/402wv8Z4e3c/s1600/305531_4722409254645_430522504_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FZt2jvKPH9k/UKsdAquqcvI/AAAAAAAAB1E/402wv8Z4e3c/s320/305531_4722409254645_430522504_n.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-48341334066750404802012-11-12T23:13:00.003-06:002012-11-12T23:13:57.266-06:00Again.Recently, I got into a discussion with some women who, like many women in this country, believe that when it comes to feeding a child, breast and bottle are equal. "Either is fine." <br />
<br />
You know, I try to maintain some semblance of composure. <br />
<br />
Really I do. <br />
<br />
But really? Do intelligent, thinking women REALLY believe that? Or do they just say it to appease those that chose not to breastfeed? I really can't figure it out. <br />
<br />
I can't comprehend how we can know the facts -- the unequivocal, scientific facts -- and yet still have this discussion. <br />
<br />
The science has been done, ladies. The information is there. <br />
<br />
And yet so many choose to ignore it. I know why. I blogged about it <a href="http://www.jensminivan.com/2011/02/choice.html">here.</a><br />
<br />
I have so many precious patients and friends who honestly went way beyond what I could have done to make sure their children were breastfed. I know women who would have given their right arm to nurse, but for reasons such as glandular insufficiency or mammary hypoplasia just could not bring in a full milk supply. It is a slap in the face to these women to hear "either is fine." <br />
<br />
I love to tell the story of the formula rep that came to me after delivering her first baby for help breastfeeding. She confided to me that there was "no way in hell" she was giving her child a drop of formula. (She went on to breastfeed for 2 years. And the child never got a drop of formula. And she quit her job, saying that she was ashamed of herself for having told the lie for years to women that, you guessed it, "either is fine".)<br />
<br />
Imagine being able to feed your child organically grown fruits and vegetables year round. Imagine having access to free range eggs and grass fed beef. Imagine having your freezer filled with those healthy, delicious offerings. And imagine saying "no, Johnny, you can't have that. You get McDonald's for every meal."<br />
<br />
That is precisely what you are doing when you make the choice to feed artificial, pharmaceutical formula. <br />
<br />
That is not ok. It is not fine. It is in no way comparable to breastmilk. <br />
<br />
The worst part, however, is the sexualization that these <strike>not<br />
</strike>thinking women place on a woman's body, specifically her breasts. A relative of mine wrote:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>I don't know when I was little these things were innocent and we were given bottles to feed the babies. Not every parent wants their kids to have that innocence taken away. I know that with my kids I would like them to not have to worry about that and asking me those questions at such a young age. Plus I have boys! I'm personally not for it but I also dont try to tell the little girls here that they have boobs when they are little & they dont. Let them enjoy this time... they get to deal with all that grown up stuff later on. I miss the innocence to things.</blockquote><br />
Gulp.<br />
<br />
It made me want to literally sob to hear her (as do so many women) equating seeing a woman breastfeed to losing ones innocence. Really?<br />
<br />
My children breastfed <strike>forever</strike> for 2 and 3 years each. They know what a woman's breasts are for. They aren't "boobs" or "titties" or whatever vulgarity you want to use. They are breasts and they make milk. That is what they were designed by God, the perfect Creator, to do. <br />
<br />
My children have seen me breastfeed. They have seen other women breastfeed. They know it is the natural, normal way children are fed. <br />
<br />
For my kids (and many others), bottles and formula are the freakish thing. They cannot comprehend why a woman would mix a powder with water and feed it to her kid. <br />
<br />
The infant formula industry is an $8 billion per year business. Across the globe, huge advertising budgets are spent to convince women that it is better and more convenient to bottle-feed their babies. <br />
<br />
Formula contains dioxins, PCBs and organochlorine pesticides. Water is often contaminated (yes, even in the US) by parasites and bacteria. Chlorine, weed killers, insecticides, solvents, lead and arsenic are common contaminants in public water supplies.<br />
<br />
But you use bottled water, you say?<br />
<br />
Bottled water may also contain contaminants. <br />
<br />
Formula itself may have contaminants introduced in the manufacturing process. In the past, recalls have been ordered because of contamination with substances such as broken glass, fragments of metal and salmonella and other bacteria. The fungal toxin aflatoxin has also been detected in some commercial formulas. This toxin is known to cause cancer. Infant formulas also may contain excessive levels of metals, including aluminum, manganese, cadmium and lead. Soy formulas are a particular concern due to very high levels of plant-derived estrogens (phytoestrogens) in soy products. In fact, the concentrations of phytoestrogens detected in the blood of infants fed soy formula were 13,000 to 22,000 times greater than the concentrations of natural estrogens.<br />
<br />
Some formula companies have been affiliated with pesticide or chemical companies that make hazardous chemicals. Others make products out of polyvinyl chloride plastic.<br />
<br />
Formula is the product of a large and unnecessary industrial process, all of which adds to pollution in a variety of ways large and small. The list includes production plants that pollute, trucks that burn polluting diesel fuel, the use of harmful pesticides and genetically modified organisms to grow soy and cattle fodder, packaging that contributes to deforestation and pollution and more -- all in service of a product that is both nutritionally and developmentally inferior for infants.<br />
<br />
So back to that familiar statement that "either is fine" --- your call. What do you think?<br />
<br />
(Breastfeeding Exhibit A: 3 kids who were all exclusively breastfed well into their toddler years. Never been sick (except for a few colds and a flu once) and none of them have ever been on an antibiotic. All have above average IQ's and are classified as "gifted"):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qyU6iaysrQY/UKHQMsHrEwI/AAAAAAAABz4/wD5nzS8yPKw/s1600/Picture%2B032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qyU6iaysrQY/UKHQMsHrEwI/AAAAAAAABz4/wD5nzS8yPKw/s320/Picture%2B032.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-61803980935763952142012-07-06T23:08:00.000-05:002012-07-06T23:08:46.667-05:00Fifty Shades of Magic Mike<br />
<i>"I have something to confess."<br />
<br />
</i>Those are the words a very dear friend spoke to me through tears (the ugly kind, with snot and all) a few years ago. I admit, I wondered what on earth could be so bad? She must be having an affair.<br />
<br />
<i>"I'm addicted to pornography."<br />
</i><br />
My mind turned to <i>Playgirl</i>, <i>Hustler</i>, and generalized "erotica" (that can sometimes go beyond the simply erotic to the downright vulgar). <br />
<br />
My friend went on to tell me that it was romance novels that were the culprit of her addiction. <br />
<br />
Romance novels? Not pictures, stories of S&M, bondage, and the like? Surely that doesn't qualify as "porn".....<i>does it?</i><br />
<br />
To my friend, and many women around the world, it does. Pornography, according to dictionary.com, is defined as "obscene writings, drawings, photographs, or the like, especially those having little or no artistic merit."<br />
<br />
In case you are wondering what defines "obscene" the answer is: "offensive to morality or decency; indecent; depraved."<br />
<br />
So yes, I can see how some romance novels can cross the line from "romance" to porn. A few salacious scenes can lead the mind to places that aren't exactly, well, helpful or edifying to our minds or our souls. <br />
<br />
Not only is it dangerous, it is sin.<br />
<br />
Matthew 5:27-28 says "You have heard that it was said, 'Do not commit adultery.' But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart."<br />
<br />
Gulp.<br />
<br />
Lust begins by a single glance. Then it moves into the heart. And then, occasionally, we act on it. (Remember David and Bathsheba? The roof, the roof, the roof was on fi-yah!) As Christians, we have to guard against engaging mentally in any act of unfaithfulness. <br />
<br />
Women have a very strong tendency to become emotionally attached to characters and ideas that can lead to a dissatisfaction with what we have in reality. Pornography in all forms causes marital discord. If my husband is looking at erotic pictures or reading about how a woman responds to a man in a story, he could potentially look at me with disappointment. But let's face it, men are visual. Women are much more verbal. Which is why most women don't look at pornography...they read it. <br />
<br />
Which brings me to the current fads of the year. <br />
<br />
Fifty Shades of Grey. <br />
<br />
Magic Mike.<br />
<br />
Remember the last line of the dictionary.com definition of porn? "Having little or no artistic merit" --- and that sums up these not-so-artistic offerings in a nutshell. For starters, the book is the worst writing in the history of writing. <br />
<br />
Nothing disturbs me more than poor writing. It is without excuse. Really.<br />
<br />
I am honestly <i>horrified</i> for my fellow women out there who love the book series and the characters. It is psychologically disturbing, sexually repugnant, and emotionally draining. The movie is nothing but filth. I mean, obviously Matthew McConnaughey is the utter definition of "eye candy" -- but does watching Matt teach newcomer Channing Tatum how to strip, party, and pick up women do anything at all to enrich my life? Teach me a lesson? Have any redeeming message? <i>Does it even really entertain me? <br />
</i><br />
No. <br />
<br />
And I dare say it doesn't entertain the majority of thinking women out there either.<br />
<br />
<i>And I read once that MM doesn't use deodorant. How sexy can that be?</i><br />
<br />
While the movie is totally mindless, the book is not. <br />
<br />
There is nothing sexy about humiliation and controlling behavior. (Women who love the series are quick to say "but he gives her 'safe' words to use when she feels uncomfortable!" -- which makes me cringe. If there is a potential for being or feeling unsafe in my relationship, I don't need a safe word. I need out). <br />
<br />
My personal feelings aside, the one recurring thing I hear from women is this: "I wish Christian Grey were real" or "I wish my husband were like him".<br />
<br />
Ouch.<br />
<br />
Statements like this are the reason that pornography is so detrimental to relationships. Your partner is never like the person you saw or read about. Studies have shown that pornography causes actual damage to the frontal lobe of the brain. Psychologists the world over can testify that it causes relationship damage...every.single.time. Even with casual use. Even when used by a couple to "enhance" things a bit. <br />
<br />
Perhaps what I find most disturbing about the whole "mommy porn" fad is the fact that many women posting about their new genre of entertainment are self-professed Christians. These women post silly, giggly posts and pictures about the books and the movie, urging others to read or watch. <br />
<br />
"Temptations are sure to come; <i>woe to the one through who they come</i>. It is better to be thrown into the sea than <i>to cause another to sin</i>." (my paraphrase of Luke 17:1-2)<br />
<br />
"...decide never to put a stumbling block or hindrance in the way of a brother." (Romans 14:13) <br />
<br />
As Franck in "Father of the Bride" would say, <i>"Every party has a pooper, that's why we invited you....."<br />
</i><br />
Yes, I'm a party pooper. But *I* didn't say it. <br />
<br />
<i>Jesus did</i>. <br />
<br />
I dare you to call Him a party pooper.<br />
<br />
"...live for the rest of the time <i>no longer for human passions </i>but for the will of God. For the time that is past suffices for doing what the Gentiles want to do, living in sensuality, passions, drunkenness, orgies, drinking parties, and lawless idolatry. With respect to this <i>they are surprised when you do not join them in the same flood of debauchery, and they malign you; </i> but they will give account to him who is ready to judge the living and the dead." (1 Peter 4:2-6, emphases mine)<br />
<br />
So what if you are the only one of your co-workers or the only team mom that doesn't indulge in the sin of the summer? No matter how hard it is to be the party pooper in the crowd, we are called for more, ladies. <br />
<br />
Way more. <br />
<br />
"God has not called us for impurity, but holiness. Therefore, whoever disregards this, disregards not man but God." (1 Thess 4:7-8)<br />
<br />
"Walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called." (Eph 4:1)<br />
<br />
"Do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as He who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written 'You shall be holy, for I am holy'. " (1 Peter 1:14-16)<br />
<br />
I mean, seriously girls. Where does it say that we can take a break, get off the hook, and just watch a "silly little movie"? Where does it say that it is ok with our Saviour to indulge our minds in <i>sin?</i> <br />
<br />
You're right. It doesn't. <br />
<br />
And here's another thing, while I'm on the subject.<br />
<br />
What kind of example are we setting for our children? What does it tell my daughter if she sees a book hidden in my nightstand (or on my Kindle) that I would absolutely d-i-e if she read? I want so much more for her. I want her to have respect for herself and for men. I want her to know that no matter what the other girls are reading/watching/wearing, we are to live in a manner worthy of our calling! We have to guard what comes into our eyes and ears. Proverbs 4:23 reminds us to do just that. <br />
<br />
A youth pastor from years ago said something that I will never forget (some 30 year later, it still is in my mind when I make entertainment choices for myself): imagine reading, watching, or listening with Jesus sitting right next to you. Would He approve? Would He find it of value?<br />
<br />
I believe that God finds great value in the arts. In the beauty of a painting. In the written word that makes you pause and re-read a sentence because it was *that* good. In the song well sung, or the instrument played with skill. <br />
<br />
There is so much beauty around us. So many good books, excellent movies, and soul moving songs. So many beautiful works of art. God has not deprived the Christian of art and film. He has blessed us generously. <br />
<br />
We only need to use discretion in our choosing.<br />
<br />
"Like a gold ring in a pig's snout is a beautiful woman without discretion." (Proverbs 11:22)<br />
<br />
<i>That is totally one of my favorite verses. It just says it all, doesn't it? </i><br />
<br />
So back to my friend that I told you about. It has been a long season of praying and staying accountable, but she is doing so good. I love her for her courage and her honesty. <br />
<br />
And I'm pleased to report that the last time I saw her, there was no evidence of a gold ring anywhere near a pig's snout. <br />
<br />
Happy Reading,Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-60729942695486462062012-06-12T15:01:00.000-05:002012-06-12T15:01:08.695-05:00faith and baseballI love 7/8 baseball. It's so fun to watch these boys that are really <i>getting</i> the game. In 5/6, they learn the basics of the game, but it's just sort of <strike>painful</strike> cute to watch. By 7/8, the boys make the game exciting....they are learning the subtleties of the game and their individual positions, and their own personal talents and gifts begin to shine. <br />
<br />
One of the most difficult things for the boys to do is to look to their coaches after they hit the ball. Their inclination is to watch the ball in play and see what is going to happen. In practice, the coaches drill into them "When you hit the ball, drop the bat and RUN! Watch the coaches to see what to do next." It's a matter of trust, really. Does the 3rd base coach <i>really</i> know what's going on? Will I be safe if I follow his lead? <br />
<br />
<i>Will I be safe if I follow His lead?<br />
</i><br />
That is the bottom line of faith, isn't it? Once we hit the ball and acknowledge that Jesus is our Savior, He instructs us to, well, drop the bat and run. To go into the world and make disciples. To love God first and our neighbor second. To give everything up and follow Him. <br />
<br />
As we are rounding the bases, how many times do we take our eyes off our Coach? We get tagged out time and time again because we've taken our eyes off of Him, wondering if He really sees the big picture. The thing is, we cannot run and look around at the same time. We would fall every.single.time. We really have no choice but to trust that He sees it all and is either telling us to stay where we are or to run harder, keep coming, don't look back....<br />
<br />
Sometimes I foolishly forget that my Coach is on my team. Heck, he founded my team. He cares more about it's survival and success than I do. His reputation is at stake. We are an individualistic people {that is my made up word for selfish} we like to think we can do it all on our own. We like to think we are responsible for our successes. Just as Griffin's coach desperately wants a win, God wants a win from me. <br />
<br />
Through me. <br />
<br />
In me. <br />
<br />
God can see that each little individual success adds up to one ginormous win for His team. Each time I choose Him over me. Each time I give a little more of myself, my time, or my money....each time I listen to a hurting soul, tend to a broken heart, touch a wounded body.<br />
<br />
<i>'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'</i><br />
<br />
Taking our eyes off of ourselves is so stinkin' hard, though. It's not easy to stay focused on someone that isn't, well, <i>me</i>. I'm so much like Peter, who was walking along on the water....as long as he kept his eyes on Jesus. Once he looked away, he began to sink. That is just so <i>me</i>. I find myself treading water more often than I care to admit. <br />
<br />
The thing about it all is that it just takes practice. Griffin and his teammates have to consciously fix their eyes on Coach Craig over on 3rd and refuse to take their eyes off of him. With practice, they have gotten really quite good at it. They have to fight that internal battle to not look out to see for themselves where the ball is and what is happening on the field. <br />
<br />
As Griffin and the rest of the team round 3rd and go sliding, running, skipping, and flying into home plate, they are awarded with a multitude of high fives, slaps on the back, butt, and helmet. They are surrounded by stands full of parents and siblings on their feet, yelling and cheering and clapping wildly. They can at last look up and see the scoreboard. The big picture. <br />
<br />
And one day, prayerfully, as we round 3rd and head for home, we will see the same thing. Those that have gone on before us will be just like those in the bleachers at the ball park....standing, applauding, and cheering us on. We will get a whole lot of heavenly high fives and saintly slaps on the back. <br />
<br />
And then our Coach will look us in they eye and say <i>"Well done..." </i>And He will point to the scoreboard, and on it we will be able to see for ourselves...The Big Picture. <br />
<br />
So go ahead....<br />
<br />
The next inning is about to start....<br />
<br />
<i>Play Ball!</i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-33700989391805326852012-06-11T11:28:00.000-05:002012-06-11T11:28:43.311-05:00Urgent prayer requestToday as I was praying for my sweet friend Tricia, I came across this <a href="http://www.jensminivan.com/2008/03/for-tricia.html">old blog post</a> I wrote years ago as she was waiting for a double lung transplant. Every day back then, heck -- <i>every breath</i> -- was a miracle. <br />
<br />
And then I wrote <a href="http://www.jensminivan.com/2008/04/praying.html">this</a> and Tricia was triumphantly the owner of brand new lungs. <br />
<br />
Today Tricia is again in a <a href="http://www.confessionsofacfhusband.com/">fight for her life </a>as she is experiencing organ rejection. Please pray --- right now --- for her, for Nathan, and for sweet little Gwyneth. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SpU-yrPKtsk/T9Yb52B4LMI/AAAAAAAABzM/DZBVVuj0fxg/s1600/tricia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SpU-yrPKtsk/T9Yb52B4LMI/AAAAAAAABzM/DZBVVuj0fxg/s320/tricia.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-6837647896942331262012-05-15T08:46:00.002-05:002012-05-15T08:46:59.647-05:00Sleeping. Or not.Last night I woke up at 2:34 a.m. to go to the bathroom. It took me a minute to finagle my way out of bed, trying not to disturb the 5 year old lying sideways between me and Paul, or the 8 year old at the foot of the bed (still in his dirty baseball uniform, mind you, and clutching his prized game ball), and of course trying not to wake either of the dogs, who were sandwiched somewhere in between the humans in the bed. The 10 year old had made his way into our room as well, sleeping peacefully on the loveseat next to our bed.<br />
<br />
It all started a few months before Tucker was born. "We have GOT to get a bigger bed," I announced to my husband one morning, as my ever-growing pregnant belly took over the tiny little double bed we had been sharing. (And in retrospect, are not those the teensiest mattresses ever? What's the point? Might as well just have a twin.)<br />
<br />
So off to the store we went, and a few hours (and a few thousand dollars) later, we were the exuberant owners of a pillow top king sized bed. <br />
<br />
<i>(Remind me sometime to tell you about Paul and the Ambien. Let's just say he slept like a baby diagonally across the brand new king sized dream bed while his 40 week pregnant, miserable wife slept on the sofa because she could not move him. 11 years later and yes, I still remember.) <br />
</i><br />
Until, of course, September 18, 2001. Had we known then what we know now, we would have just stayed in bed, asleep, for a good month or two to prepare for the next several years.<br />
<br />
It started out innocently enough. No one ever starts out their parenting career thinking they will co-sleep. But then reality sets in. The reality of a nursing infant who likes to nurse every hour or so. All.night.long. (Which is totally normal. Moms milk supply is higher at night than any other time.) So instead of reaching over, getting kid out of bassinet, nursing, putting kid back in bassinet....it subtly morphs into just leaving kid attached to breast and falling back asleep and never really knowing if the <strike>leech</strike> sweet baby unlatches at all through the night. <br />
<br />
Then baby #2 comes and the process is repeated, only now kid #1 is still in the bed because he is still nursing. Now you are tandem nursing all.night.long. Until you urge kid #1 to night wean, which he finds an odd request, since baby #2 is still a marathon nursing dude. <br />
<br />
Then comes #3, and we're all too freaking tired to do anything other than all pass out as a family in the same king sized bed that we had bought 5 years earlier. When there was just the two of us.<br />
<br />
Which is not to say that we don't sleep now. We do. Through the night, even. Everyone is potty trained, everyone is weaned, everyone sleeps through the night.<br />
<br />
Just not in their own space.<br />
<br />
We sleep on edges of beds, with slivers of covers. We sleep with feet in our faces and behinds in our backs. We get punched a few times per week by the stray flying extremity. <br />
<br />
After I made my way back to the bed and pushed kids and dogs out of the way, I lay there awake for awhile, thinking about how hysterical it was that the 10 year old is always begging for his own room, when in reality we could easily live in a one bedroom flat somewhere. They all like to be close to us. Occasionally one or two of them will start out the night in their own bed, or on the sofa in the living room, but eventually it seems we all wake up in close quarters.<br />
<br />
I know that one day this will not be the case. (Even though Griffin states unequivocally that he, his wife, and their children will also come over every night to sleep in our room, if not in our bed.) One day, probably soon, Tucker will make his way to his own room for some much needed privacy. Griffin won't be too far behind. And Sissy will eventually find her way to her room to fall asleep to the sounds of Justin Bieber instead of her daddy's snoring. <br />
<br />
Why do kids hate being alone at nighttime? Probably the same reason many adults do. Studies show that nighttime is when anxieties, depression, sadness, and fear presents itself. Hospitals and nursing homes know this phenomenon well. In our society, use of night time sleep aids is on the rise. Everyone is having trouble sleeping, it seems.<br />
<br />
My suggestion? <br />
<br />
Have a kid. <br />
<br />
You'll sleep like a baby.<br />
<br />
Or at least you'll think you did. <br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-84651655525850724132012-05-11T22:09:00.001-05:002012-05-11T22:09:36.526-05:00Mom Enough?When my son Griffin was 3 years old, he had his ginormous tonsils and adenoids removed. I was skeptical about the surgeon's choice of hospital: Tulane, instead of my first choice, Children's. The same day surgery folks were nice enough, but I worried that they wouldn't have enough pediatric experience or <i>patience</i> with *my* most precious <i>patient</i>. <br />
<br />
We were put at ease immediately. The nurse anesthetist who came to give him his pre-op evaluation (and a beautifully hefty dose of Versed) drew a frightened and anxious 3 year old into conversation. It didn't hurt that she wore a Boston Red Sox lanyard either. She carried him off to the OR, with him chatting eagerly about Big Papi.<br />
<br />
Fast forward about an hour and a nurse hurried out to the waiting room to tell me that Griff was awake, crying, and he needed me. She rushed me to the recovery room, where my sweet boy was lying there with big tears streaming down his face. "Mama" he cried, reaching out to me. The nurse pulled up a chair for me and I sat down, cradling my little boy.<br />
<br />
Without thinking, Griffin pulled up my shirt and rested his hand on my breast. The tears stopped, and he started to drift off to sleep. "You can nurse him, you know. It would help him to drink something."<br />
<br />
Tears came to my eyes as I looked at this woman, who looked back, smiled warmly, and said, "All mine nursed until they were 3 and 4."<br />
<br />
It's a special bond we all share -- us moms who have chosen to allow our children the dignity of weaning when they feel ready. We are outsiders....we crazed women (and partners) who allow our children to feed whenever they are hungry as newborns, who will stop what they are doing to nurse a toddler who has fallen victim to a boo-boo, who happily shares their sleeping space with nursing babies, toddlers, oversized children and dogs. Those of us who will not force their child to wear big boy (or girl) underwear until they show developmental signs they are ready (instead of looking at some calendar and proclaiming "it's time!"). We deal with rude strangers, concerned family members, and uninformed health care professionals. We have a list of "reasons we still breastfeed" always at the ready to fend off the obnoxious questions that invariably come our way. <br />
<br />
Today, with the unveiling of Time Magazine's cover (and corresponding frenzy-inducing title "Are You Mom Enough?"), the public raised their voices on message boards all over the globe, calling me (and countless other moms like me) a freak, loser, a sexual abuser, and a pervert who "gets off when their kid sucks their tit", to name a few. <br />
<br />
Literary geniuses, they are not.<br />
<br />
<i>Methinks those pour souls could have used a good bit of breastmilk in their younger days. Obviously they don't know that breastfed children score an average of 10 points higher on IQ tests.</i><br />
<br />
Dr. Katherine Dettwyler is an anthropologist who has done extensive research on human breastfeeding, specifically weaning. The bottom line? The "normal" age of weaning is between 2.5 and 7 years. <i>(Stuart-Macadam, P. and Dettwyler, K., ed. Breastfeeding: Biocultural Perspectives, New York: Walter de Gruyter, Inc., 1995.)<br />
</i><br />
The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that “Breastfeeding should be continued for at least the first year of life and beyond for as long as mutually desired by mother and child… Increased duration of breastfeeding confers significant health and developmental benefits for the child and the mother… There is no upper limit to the duration of breastfeeding and no evidence of psychologic or developmental harm from breastfeeding into the third year of life or longer.” <i>(AAP 2005) </i><br />
<br />
The World Health Organization urges breastfeeding <i>at least </i>until age two. They stress that illness rates go up once weaning has occurred, thus encouraging women to breastfeed for as long as possible. <i>(WHO 2002)</i><br />
<br />
The American Academy of Family Physicians has even more to say. The AAFP recommends that breastfeeding continue throughout the first year of life and that “As recommended by the WHO, breastfeeding should ideally continue beyond infancy, but this is not the cultural norm in the United States and requires ongoing support and encouragement. It has been estimated that a natural weaning age for humans is between two and seven years. Family physicians should be knowledgeable regarding the ongoing benefits to the child of extended breastfeeding, including continued immune protection, better social adjustment, and having a sustainable food source in times of emergency. The longer women breastfeed, the greater the decrease in their risk of breast cancer.” They also note that “If the child is younger than two years of age, the child is at increased risk of illness if weaned.” (AAFP 2008) <br />
<br />
In the Bible, we read "when the child was weaned" -- meaning a minimum of 3 years old, though scholars estimate 4-5 is more likely. (<a href="http://www.texas-midwife.com/index.php/resources/breastfeeding/152-breastfeeding-and-the-bible-2">Larry Overton has done a great job researching this.)</a><br />
<br />
My children are now 10, 8, and 5. Each of them remember breastfeeding with fondness. They all had little habits that were unique to each of them, and they like to talk about them now. They often ask, out of the blue, "mom, tell me again what I used to do when I was nursing" -- and I tell them (Tucker always scratched one spot on my forearm. Griffin rubbed my face. Anne Claire twirled my hair.) I've asked all my kids what they remember of nursing. The resounding answer (from all 3) is always "you smelled good and the milk was warm and sweet." They have virtually no desire to breastfeed any longer. They are all potty trained, sleep through the night, and are independent, strong, funny, and incredibly healthy. They weaned when they were ready. There were no tears. No sleepless nights. No anxiety. They finished when they deemed it time.<br />
<br />
No, I'm not a loser. I'm <i>certainly</i> not a pervert. My children are stronger, smarter, healthier, funnier, and more socially adept <b><i>because</i></b> they breastfed, not in spite of it. <br />
<br />
So to all the haters that are gonna hate....Yes. I *am* Mom Enough.<br />
<br />
<i>Are you?</i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-9916346633806989552012-03-13T14:29:00.000-05:002012-03-13T14:29:31.697-05:00Regarding MaryEvery year around Christmas I begin to think about, and usually write about, Mary, the Mother of Jesus. Lately, however, I've been thinking a LOT about her. So much so that I've taken to reading books about her and trying to learn all I can about her life. I've always been puzzled as to why this magnificent woman that God chose to be the vessel in which to bring forth the Christ is talked about so little in the Protestant faith, and why whenever she is mentioned, we are always reminded that she was just an ordinary woman....nothing special.<br />
<br />
I sort of get the feeling that God disagrees. <br />
<br />
Of all the women on the planet, at one particular time in history, God created one woman named Mary who He had set aside to be the Mother of His Son. He chose HER. He didn't send angel-messengers to 2 or 3 different girls to see who'd say yes. He chose ONE. From the moment of Mary's conception, He knew that she was the one He wanted. His hand was on her life and He guided her to the very moment when the angel appeared and said, <i>"Hail, [thou that art] highly favoured, the Lord [is] with thee: blessed [art] thou among women." </i> ("highly favored" means "full of grace" (Favor, Favored: to endow with charis, Luk 1:28, "highly favored" (marg., "endued with grace") <i>Verb Strong's Number: g5487 Greek: charitoo) </i><br />
<br />
God <i>endued</i> Mary with grace. The grace it would take for her to take on one of the most emotionally wrenching jobs in the universe. I am constantly amazed at the lowly place in which we put her. She was not just one of many extraordinary women in the Bible. She was the actual Mother of our Lord. He grew in her belly and she birthed him and nursed him and worried over him. <br />
<br />
And yet she is relegated in Protestant books and sermons as just a really cool gal who agreed to be the surrogate for God. Some Evangelical commentators and theologians are flat out rude when it comes to Mary -- honestly I became embarrassed and a little angry when reading some opinions of the very Mother of God.<br />
<br />
Growing up, whenever I asked about Mary, I was told that she was just a vessel. Just a person. Just a pawn in God's plan. <br />
<br />
I disagree. I think she is a pretty amazing, loving woman who deserves our honor and our love. <br />
<br />
And I cannot, for the life of me, find anywhere in scripture that Mary points to anyone but to Jesus. In her Magnificat, Mary says that her soul "magnifies" the Lord. <br />
<br />
mag·ni·fy<br />
[mag-nuh-fahy] verb, -fied, -fy·ing. verb (used with object) <br />
1. <b>to increase </b>the apparent size of, as a lens does. <br />
2. <b>to make greater </b>in actual size; enlarge: to magnify a drawing in preparing for a fresco. <br />
3. to cause to seem <b>greater or more important</b>; attribute too much importance to; exaggerate: to magnify one's difficulties. <br />
4. to make more exciting; <b>intensify</b>; dramatize; heighten: The playwright magnified the conflict to get her point across. <br />
5. Archaic . <b>to extol; praise</b>: to magnify the Lord. <br />
<br />
<blockquote>Luke 1:46-55 (KJV)<br />
<br />
<i>46And Mary said, My soul doth magnify the Lord, <br />
47And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. <br />
48For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden: for, behold, <b>from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed</b>. <br />
49For he that is mighty hath done to me great things; and holy is his name.<br />
50And his mercy is on them that fear him from generation to generation. <br />
51He hath shewed strength with his arm; he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. <br />
52He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree.<br />
53He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath sent empty away. <br />
54He hath helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy;<br />
55As he spake to our fathers, to Abraham, and to his seed for ever.<br />
</i>(bolding mine)</blockquote><br />
And yet, we don't call her blessed. <br />
<br />
We don't call her anything.<br />
<br />
The gospel is all about the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Mary was present at all three events. As a matter of fact, Mary was a vital part of each stage. Mary's "yes" to God was a "yes" to all of us. <br />
<br />
<blockquote>Yes, I will carry the Son of God. (Luke 1:38)<br />
<br />
Yes, I will be a mother to every believer. (John 19:26-27; though many argue that Jesus was only referring to John specifically, others believe all believers are disciples and therefore this transfer of maternity belongs to all of us.)<br />
</blockquote>Maternal love and nurture is something vital to every single person on the planet. Without a mother's touch there is suffering. Without a mother's milk there is starvation. Without the love of a mother, the human psyche is forever damaged. <br />
<br />
I will never know the truth of the mysteries of Mary until I get to Heaven and learn of it all...but until then I will honor her as the Mother of my Lord. <br />
<br />
And I will call her blessed.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-67842829776183044662012-03-07T10:59:00.000-06:002012-03-07T10:59:40.464-06:00Birth Control. Gulp.Growing up in the Southern Baptist tradition, there are several things that baffled me throughout the years. My parents didn't like it when I questioned them....they usually either brushed me off completely or they just finished the conversation with "because we're right." This parenting technique was an easy out for them, but for me it created even <i>more</i> questions. Why didn't they want to talk to me about this stuff? To me, they <strike>were</strike> are important questions. Theological questions. Questions that might make me -<i>gas</i>p- call into question some of my family's long held beliefs.<br />
<br />
One of these questions was on the issue of birth control. I know, I know.....a hot button topic right now. I suppose all the news coverage of birth control recently has stirred up some of those thoughts. But really.......what about it?<br />
<br />
Back in college, I recall Dr. Raman C. Murthy stunning me during a lecture when he stated that birth control pills worked by preventing ovulation (which I knew) but he went on to say that oral contraceptives also changed the cervical mucus to make it more unhospitable for sperm. Additionally, and most alarming to me, was that in the case of fertilization, the pill would alter the endometrial lining, thus making it impossible for the newly formed embryo to implant. <br />
<br />
Say whaaaaat?<br />
<br />
So if I actually ovulate, and the sperm is capable of swimming through thickened cervical mucus with an unfavorable pH, and said sperm and my newly ovulated ovum have a meet and greet.......then my new little embryo will die because it has no place to rest it's little head?<br />
<br />
That smelled fishy to me. <br />
<br />
So I gathered up pharmaceutical inserts and read the news from the manufacturers themselves. This was in the 1980's, before the internet and RxList, which gave me this summarization today:<br />
<blockquote>Combination Oral Contraceptives<br />
<br />
Combination oral contraceptives act by suppression of gonadotropins. Although the primary mechanism of this action is inhibition of ovulation, other alterations include changes in the cervical mucus (which increase the difficulty of sperm entry into the uterus) and the endometrium (which reduce the likelihood of implantation).<br />
<br />
Last reviewed on RxList: 12/28/2007<br />
This monograph has been modified to include the generic and brand name in many instances.<br />
</blockquote>Raman C. Murthy wasn't lying to me. <br />
<br />
How long had I been operating under the assumption that birth control was ok? Yup, my whole life. My mom used birth control. She had a tubal ligation after her last baby, at age 37. As I grew into adulthood, everyone I knew, Southern Baptist or not, used birth control.<br />
<br />
Then I began reading the Bible and I started having even more questions. <br />
<br />
<i>For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.....your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. Psalm 139:13, 16<br />
<br />
Lo, children [are] an heritage of the LORD: [and] the fruit of the womb [is his] reward. As arrows [are] in the hand of a mighty man; so [are] children of the youth. Happy [is] the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate. Psalm 127:3-5<br />
<br />
Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Proverbs 3:5<br />
<br />
Commit your way to the LORD. Psalm 37:5<br />
</i><br />
What I read and discovered was that life began at the moment that egg and sperm meet (I know, I know, some people totally disagree. For those, however, I can only suppose one never had an early ultrasound or saw life unfolding right before your eyes under a microscope.)<br />
<br />
I discovered that God had created every human being on the planet in His mind long before they were created in a woman's womb. (And I was taught that God was soverign and made absolutely NO mistakes....so if He intended to create them, and we stopped His creation, then where does that leave us? I suppose placing ourselves up there WITH God. No, that couldn't be...)<br />
<br />
I read that God considered each child a reward. A blessing. <br />
<br />
I learned that He knows more than me. (Duh.)<br />
<br />
And so I went on with my adult life, never really discussing these issues with anyone because I was always met with a blank stare and realized that, like my parents, no one wanted to discuss birth control. <br />
<br />
Fortunately, I married a man who agreed with me. So we reproduced three gorgeous, witty, precious children. <br />
<br />
And then, at the age of 41, I had my tubes tied. <br />
<br />
It's true. I was hesitant, but succumbed to pressure from my OB, who was a nervous wreck for 30 weeks at the thought of a 41 year old woman who had had a uterine rupture with her last delivery. He announced at each visit "Jennifer!! You are 40, for goodness sake!! You can't have any more kids!!" And I had my mom all worried about it and other family members telling me that I really didn't need more kids. <br />
<br />
I was sad, but in my intellectual mind, they were right.<br />
<br />
Right?<br />
<br />
My biggest regret in life, I tell you. Ask any young woman I work with what my advice is when they say they are done having kids. "Don't do anything permanent. You never know how your heart might change."<br />
<br />
I live each day knowing that I took control of my body in a way that I'm sure makes God cringe. When I get to heaven, I often wonder if He will show me all the blessings He had for me....but that I refused to accept, because I thought I knew better. Than Him. Seriously. <br />
<br />
We lived at a southern Baptist seminary for 4 years while my husband studied. There, I was surrounded by women who used birth control religiously (pun intended) because they were waiting for husbands to finish their MDiv's or write their dissertations. I was astounded by the number of what those outside the gates would call "godly women" that didn't give God credit for knowing better than them how many children He created for them. It was so incredibly sad. Abortion, to be sure, was murder in their eyes. But to ingest a known abortofacient daily was ok. Which led me to think mabye they didn't believe life begins at conception?<br />
<br />
I had one discussion with a fellow seminary wife who said "Yes, but God gives us free will to make these kinds of decisions for ourselves."<br />
<br />
Really?<br />
<br />
I mean, yes, we could go out and do whatever we desire because of that free will. But do we do it? I venture to say no, no we don't. Our actions stem from our beliefs. Why would I do something that I know is sin if I claim to believe that Jesus died a cruel death on a cross for my sins because of His love for me? Does that even make sense?<br />
<br />
So when I read the papers and watch the news and read 894 threads on Facebook about birth control and government and who should pay for what, my heart is re-ignited to encourage women to trust in the Lord with all their hearts, and to not lean on their own understanding of what's best for them. Trust in Him, and He will give you the desires of your heart. Paul says in Ephesians that God is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine. Just because <i>we</i> can't imagine more children doesn't mean that <i>He</i> doesn't have a plan that is better than yours.<br />
<br />
Because He is, after all, God.<br />
<br />
And He really is smarter than you.<br />
<br />
<i>Duh.</i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-4499392205448694742012-02-20T11:22:00.000-06:002012-02-20T11:22:02.960-06:00Mercy<i>"This is what the LORD Almighty says: 'Administer true justice; show mercy and compassion to one another.'" (Zech. 7:9)<br />
</i><br />
Parenting is ridiculously hard. Especially when you have more than one child. When you punish one, the rest tend to inherit the punishment...sort of like secondhand smoke. How many of us grew up with smoking parents or grandparents who thought nothing of smoking in enclosed cars or rooms, filling our lungs with all those noxious fumes that were poisoning our little kid lungs and seemingly not caring when you coughed and sputtered and begged for air....<br />
<br />
Ahh, but I digress.<br />
<br />
In our house, we like to extend mercy to the kids when we can. We figure it: a. <i>models Christ</i> and b. allows <i>us to see a movie when one of the kids ruins it for the whole crew. <strike>Especially if it's something mom or dad really wanted to see</strike>.</i> <br />
<br />
But I was wondering the other day if we had given too much mercy to a certain child who shall remain nameless. He seemed to expect it. He even asked, "what about mercy?" So it got me thinking about how often God extends mercy to us, and why He does. Why does He do it sometimes, and others He leaves us to wallow in our God-imposed time out?<br />
<br />
So I did a little research and the word "mercy" shows up 276 times in the KJV. Most of those refer to the act of mercy shown by God. Some refer to the mercy seat (made of gold and sitting atop the ark of the covenant) -- which I find just as applicable....I mean, isn't a time out chair/corner a sort of parental version of the mercy seat? <br />
<br />
The point being --- God places a high value on mercy. <br />
<br />
<blockquote>mer·cy<br />
[mur-see] <br />
<br />
noun, plural -cies for 4, 5. <br />
1. <br />
compassionate or kindly forbearance shown toward an offender, an enemy, or other person in one's power; compassion, pity, or benevolence: Have mercy on the poor sinner. <br />
<br />
2. <br />
the disposition to be compassionate or forbearing: an adversary wholly without mercy. <br />
<br />
3. <br />
the discretionary power of a judge to pardon someone or to mitigate punishment, especially to send to prison rather than invoke the death penalty. <br />
<br />
4. <br />
an act of kindness, compassion, or favor: She has performed countless small mercies for her friends and neighbors. <br />
<br />
5. <br />
something that gives evidence of divine favor; blessing: It was just a mercy we had our seat belts on when it happened</blockquote><br />
I think that in order to receive mercy, we must be repentant and genuinely sorry. Think about a police officer who lets you go with just a warning. The offender's attitude was more than likely the cause of whether Mr. Policeman gives you a warning and a smile, or a ticket and a smirk. <i>Not that I would know anything about that.</i><br />
<br />
So it is with our children. And with us. In order to receive mercy, we must come to Jesus (or mom and dad) with a repentant heart and a genuine desire to make it right. To do better next time. No sense of entitlement....just a grateful heart -- because we deserve punishment, and yet the mercy-giver sees something in the mercy-seeker and chooses to extend it....<i>again. </i> And if not, we just have to deal with the punishment and learn from it. It's up to us and the state of our hearts. <br />
<br />
<i>The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. "The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in him." The LORD is good to those who wait for him, fto the soul who seeks him. Lamentations 3:22-25</i><br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-78345222407837746952012-01-31T20:17:00.000-06:002012-01-31T20:17:55.959-06:00A Crown of SplendorIt is interesting to me the reactions I get from people when they realize that I am going gray <i>on purpose</i>. You know, the point in time when it becomes obvious that the gray roots are now longer than the old color. I have gotten reactions ranging from shock ("you mean you MEAN for it to look like that?!") to displeasure ("it looks SO much better colored") to a wee bit of envy ("I wish I had the guts to do it").<br />
<br />
Seriously, no other appearance related comment would be appropriate or acceptable. Think about it:<br />
<br />
<i>"Dang, girl, you've packed on a few pounds!"<br />
</i><br />
<i>"What's with the new makeup? You look ridiculous!"<br />
</i><br />
<i>"Did you think those glasses looked good in the store?"<br />
</i><br />
I have spent the last 25 years soaking my hair in chemicals to cover up the silver that all the women in my family (both sides) have had for as long as I can recall. Only a few of them have flaunted their natural color, and of those, I always thought their hair color was amazing. Both of my grandmothers had beautiful silver hair. As a matter of fact, I didn't see a picture of my Grandma Stigall with dark hair until after she had passed away....and then I was astounded at the resemblance of her to Kate Winslet. <br />
<br />
<i>Though in reality, Grandma was prettier. </i><br />
<br />
I let my vanity control my hair color until about a year ago. I didn't want to be mistaken as my children's grandmother. I didn't want to be taken for older than I already am. I didn't want people to think I'd look better some other way. At the root of it all was my need to please people. I am the one who asks for 59 opinions before I buy something. I'm the one who asks, "What would YOU do/say/eat/drink/buy?" And, as you probably know, there are plenty of people willing to offer their opinions. <br />
<br />
But then one day I realized that I am a grown up. I am who God made me. I have gray hair and it really doesn't look bad at all. Some people even think it's....<i>pretty.</i><br />
<br />
And really, aren't I supposed to <i>not</i> be conformed to the world (and it's need to cover their grays) but be transformed by the renewing of my mind? Renewing my mind by perhaps thinking about my hair the way God thinks about my hair? (And yes, I do think He has given my hair consideration....after all, my hair color was determined by God before He even formed me. My days were numbered, the hairs on my head were counted, and their exact color and texture were planned out by the Creator Himself.) Renewing my mind by knowing that God says "gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life". Renewing my mind by being who He created ME to be. Authentic. Real. Transparent. <br />
<br />
And in my case, gray.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-13214038607474024942011-10-02T00:26:00.001-05:002011-10-02T00:26:36.969-05:00The Sweet LifeI'm sitting here in a totally quiet house. This has, like, never happened in the past ten years. Someone pinch me.<br />
<br />
Paul and the boys have gone camping with the Boy Scouts somewhere in the wilds of south Louisiana. Sissy has gone into an M&M induced coma. Heidi, the world's laziest canine companion, has stretched her enormous basset hound body the length of the sofa and is snoring. Loudly.<br />
<br />
I miss my posse. I miss trying to find a sliver of bedspace after half the family has invaded the bed. I miss Paul coming out to say "You ok, honey?" if he wakes up and I'm not <strike>holding onto my edge of the mattress for dear life</strike> sleeping over on my side of the bed. (Though I suspect a few times he has mistaken me for Heidi. I won't take it personally.)<br />
<br />
Life is hard. With bills piling up and a poor economy, illnesses from kids and dogs that cost a small fortune, car problems that eat up hundreds of dollars at a time, and extended family that requires more emotional and financial energy than I can sometimes muster, it is just flat out <i>hard. </i><br />
<br />
But. <br />
<br />
I was reminded tonight of the true value of good friends. Of selflessness. Of giving spirits. Of true <a href="http://christianity.about.com/od/glossary/a/Agape.htm">agape</a> love. I was actually reminded of the first church in <a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Act&c=2&v=44&t=ESV#44">Acts</a> when a friend reminded me <i>"We weren't meant to go this road alone."</i><br />
<br />
I am blessed beyond measure to have a husband that loves me more than I deserve. I have three children that are the absolute joy of my heart. I have friends that love me just because. Most of all, I am loved and cherished by God, who <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+139%3A16&version=NIV">created me</a>, who knows me {<i>You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether.</i>}, and just like Hagar said in Genesis 16:13, a God who <i>sees me</i>. <br />
<br />
Life is sweet. Like buttercream icing on a piece of birthday cake. Like a really good coffee with fresh vanilla and heavy cream. Like a caramel Milky Way (I mean, seriously, have you <i>had</i> one of those?) Like a salted caramel yogurt from Pinkberry. (I'm fairly certain there is a Pinkberry in Heaven's Food Court.)<br />
<br />
So even though I can barely keep my eyes open, I'm going to just sit here for a while longer, savoring the sweetness of my life, and thanking God for looking down on me with absolute favor and grace. I am so undeserving, and yet....<br />
<br />
<i>Yet here I am.</i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-59484254310377167392011-08-17T08:28:00.000-05:002011-08-17T08:28:09.492-05:00Homeschooling....Part DeauxIt looks like the Souths have painlessly slid right back into the groove of homeschooling. The boys haven't missed a beat, remembering (and seeming to enjoy) the learning at home schedule (or lack of it) and way of life (read: living in our pj's and taking multiple learning breaks to play in the pool, read, watch a tv show, or play a game).<br />
<br />
Together we are strolling through Ancient History with <a href="http://www.welltrainedmind.com/store/history-and-geography/story-of-the-world/volume-1-ancient-times.html">Story of the World</a> and the kids are excited for our <a href="https://apologia.securesites.net/store/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=1_64">Apologia Zoology</a> study to arrive so they can start their study of land animals. We are also doing Bible study together, as we continue to work on a self control unit. We are also concentrating on one character trait per month (this month: self control), memorizing one scripture per week and one hymn per month (this month: He Leadeth Me).<br />
<br />
Sissy has already mastered all the short vowels and consonants and is starting to read short vowel words. She has breezed through a math workbook (I cannot stop her -- she wants to do 10-15 pgs a day) and we are waiting on the next installment of <a href="http://www.singaporemath.com/">Singapore math </a>to make its way here. She is learning to write with Handwriting without tears - the same program Griffin used. She actively participates in Bible and history, and I have a feeling she will be upset when she realizes I didn't buy her a zoology journal to keep along with the boys. Sis has requested to take gymnastics. She is a muscular little thing, so I think she'll do well. We'll keep you posted!<br />
<br />
Tucker is flying through math (of course) so I added in a <a href="http://lifeoffredmath.com/">Life of Fred</a> book for extra practice. We are doing Writing With Ease and First Language Lessons level 4 to get him back on track after a <strike>wasted</strike> year in public school. He is also doing Rod & Staff Spelling (we used to use Spelling Power but after reading multiple reviews over at The Well Trained Mind, I decided to switch). He wants to study Spanish this year. I would prefer Latin or have him continue French (he took it the last 2 years in school) -- so we haven't made a language decision yet. He is gearing up (literally) to play tackle football in a few weeks. <br />
<br />
Griffin doesn't seem to have missed anything from his year at public school (thank you, Mrs. Babineaux), so he is motoring right along with Singapore math, Writing with Ease level 2 and First Language Lessons level 2. He is also trying out the new (to us) Rod & Staff spelling. He has the best penmanship in the entire family (no joke) so we will continue with Handwriting Without Tears for him. He will start writing in cursive this year. He is stoked! Griffin has requested to take tennis lessons. With his temper, he will no doubt be the John McEnroe of his generation. <br />
<br />
The biggest adjustment is with me working full time. Time is very limited, but so far we get everything done that we need to do. We may have to get creative and do a little school on the weekends, or in the evenings. Who says it has to be done by lunchtime?!<br />
<br />
It has been nice having the kids home. While everyone around me can't wait to get their kids back to school, I can honestly say I have missed those huge chunks of time that they are away, learning about whatever it is that their teachers decide to teach them. It's nice to incorporate character lessons and Bible stories and verses throughout the day.<br />
<br />
<i>This is, of course, not to say I don't occasionally think about how nice it would be to come home after working a 12 hour night shift and think how pleasant it would be to go to sleep in a quiet house while the offspring are off at school.</i><br />
<br />
But, it is what it is. God has given us this time and has directed us to homeschool for this year. My entire life seems to revolve around issues of obedience. I am learning (admittedly, I am a slow learner) to just.do.it -- just obey the first time God directs me. <i>Ok, not the first time. I mulled over the homeschooling thing for about 3 months. Or more.</i> But you get the point. <br />
<br />
One thing I know. It may not be easy, and it may be difficult for others to understand. But it is the best thing for *my* family at this time. And I know, above all, that God will honor and bless our efforts. <br />
<br />
<i>Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads.<br />
<b>Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.</b><br />
Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates,<br />
so that your days and the days of your children may be many in the land that the LORD swore to give your forefathers, as many as the days that the heavens are above the earth. Deuteronomy 11:18-21</i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-3170389520369939362011-08-02T11:35:00.002-05:002011-08-02T11:36:21.238-05:00Humble PieI get "Daily Success" emails from <a href="http://iblp.org">"The Institute in Basic Life Principles"</a> and today I was reading about the character quality of "humility". Now, honestly, prior to this <strike>slap in the face</strike> "personal evaluation", I would have considered myself humble. Definitely with room for improvement, but overall, humble. <br />
<br />
Dang.<br />
<br />
Not so.<br />
<blockquote>•When people disagree with you, do you argue to defend your position?<br />
<b>•Are you hurt when those whom you dislike are honored?</b><br />
•Do you find it difficult to admit you are wrong?<br />
•Do you inwardly react to criticism?<br />
<b>•Do you give your opinions before being asked for them?</b><br />
•Do you enjoy sharing about your accomplishments?<br />
<b>•Do you talk more than you listen?<br />
•Are you more concerned about your reputation or God’s?</b><br />
•Do you seek ways to humble yourself?<br />
•Do you do things for praise and compliments?<br />
•Do you accept praise rather than deflecting it?<br />
•Are you quick to correct others when they make mistakes?<br />
•Do you react when you do not receive credit you are due?<br />
<b><i>•Do you compare yourself with others rather than God?</i></b></blockquote><br />
Gulp.<br />
<br />
Character traits can be taught, yes, but the best way to teach them is through example, right?<br />
<br />
I have always taught my children "JOY" -- you know, Jesus first, Others next, Yourself last. But I'm sitting here thinking....do *I* really live that way? Do I really put Jesus first in my life....(not so when I was recently pondering working on Sundays), put others next (did I wake up early to spend time with my kids instead of lingering in bed?), and myself last (the list of examples is too long to write).<br />
<br />
The Bible tells me that God opposes the proud but <i>gives grace to the humble</i>. And I've been asking God for a whole boatload of grace lately. Grace to work night shift. Grace to deal with the kids. Grace to homeschool.<br />
<br />
Today, when Tucker asked for grace in his grounding from the computer, I reminded him why he was grounded and explained that if he would get it through his head that he absolutely canNOT hit his brother, I thought of God, hearing me beg for grace over and over and realized that He extends it to me every.single.time with love. He doesn't remind me of my sins or shortcomings. He just generously grants me grace. Even though my humility score is so stinkin' low. <br />
<br />
God's example of parenting is perfection. He quietly, gently, mercifully shows me how to parent my children, how to love my husband, how to respect my co-workers.<br />
<br />
Now, in return, I am determined to focus on humility, remembering that <b>everything</b> I have is from God. Every talent and gift I possess originates from Him. My paycheck from Touro? By the strength and abilities He has given me, I am able to collect it every 2 weeks. My family? Gifts. My health? By His grace, I can breathe easily <strike>unless I'm going up stairs</strike> and my heart beats steadily. <br />
<br />
<i>Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. </i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-45630333048072228312011-07-14T14:47:00.001-05:002011-07-14T14:50:40.779-05:00<i>"If the Lord delights in a man's way, he makes his steps firm; though he stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand."</i> <i>Psalm 37:23-24</i><br />
<br />
Do you ever wonder if you are doing what delights the Lord? I do all.the.time. It is what <strike>drives my husband nuts</strike> endears me to my husband. <br />
<br />
Lately, the object of my "am I doing the right thing?" obsession revolves around the children's school. I feel like I have a multiple personality disorder when I think about it. My opinion changes hourly. Literally. <br />
<br />
A little background: we homeschooled Tucker until he went into 3rd grade; Griffin went into Kindergarten after a little preschooling at home, and Anne Claire went straight to preschool at age 3. <br />
<br />
The problem: <i>Isidore Newman</i>. You see, Newman spoiled us *rotten*. It is the school that everyone wishes they could have gone to. It is the school we were blessed to be able to send the kids to in 2009-2010. Through some satanic act, we turned down our opportunity to go back in '10-'11 and moved to Lafayette to send the kids to what was reportedly one of the better schools in the parish. <br />
<br />
Bwahahaha. The joke was on us when we realized how crappish the school was and the kids, while making all A's all year, lost ground in math and LA. Tucker moreso than Griffin. Upon reflection, he reports that "last year was all review." <br />
<br />
Nice.<br />
<br />
We made the trek back to the Big Easy to get our lives back on some sort of even keel -- living in a city we adore, doing jobs we feel appreciated and valued at, and getting the kids back into the sort of diverse social environment that we want -- not only for the kids, but for us.<br />
<br />
Now we have a year before we can get the kids back to Newman. We could send them and pay full price, but that would come to a total of $50,996. For one year. Of tuition. <br />
<br />
<i>I'll wait while your resuscitate yourself.<br />
</i><br />
Better?<br />
<br />
So needless to say, we don't have an extra $51K lying around, so we are looking at other alternatives to pass the time for Pre-K (Sissy), 2nd grade (Griffin), and 5th grade (Tucker). My first response was "I'll homeschool them." <br />
<br />
Then I started working nights. <br />
<br />
Have you ever worked a 12 hour night shift as a nurse? <br />
<br />
So my next response was "We can find a good school to send them to for a year."<br />
<br />
Then I started looking at schools. <br />
<br />
Have you ever seen the school situation in New Orleans? It wasn't good before Katrina. Now it's just pathetic. You have to pay big money to go to a mediocre school. <i>Or else apply to Lusher 42 years in advance. </i><br />
<br />
So I sit here, day after day, obsessing. Praying. Reading. Talking. <br />
<br />
I woke up this morning and read today's entry from "Jesus Calling" -- my favorite ever devotional by Sarah Young. And I'm greeted with <i>"Keep walking with Me along the path I have chosen for you.....the journey is arduous at times, and you are weak.....all I require of you is to take the next step, clinging to My hand for strength and direction...."</i><br />
<br />
I am able to breathe deeply and close my eyes and know that Jesus is with me, guiding me, leading me. I have to remind myself that He loves Tucker, Griffin, and Anne Claire even more than I can think or imagine. He wants the very best for them. Jeremiah 29:11 tells me He has amazing plans for them.<br />
<br />
He knows the perfect way to school them for the next year. He has *chosen* the path for them.<br />
<br />
All I have to do is keep walking with Him.<br />
<br />
We will know the answer when it comes. Half of the fun of a Jesus filled life is the not knowing one day to the next. It is all about the mystery and adventure of doing what He leads us to do. <br />
<br />
Right?Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7566284302989072499.post-70207575336953812582011-06-22T21:07:00.000-05:002011-06-22T21:07:09.735-05:00Choosing Self ControlThat is the title of our new family Bible study. I bought it thinking how badly my boys needed to grasp the concept of self control being one of the fruits of the spirit. Our first memory verse was Proverbs 25:28.<i> Like a city whose walls are broken down is a man who lacks self-control.</i> We discussed as a family how the ancient cities built walls for protection against their enemies. Without these walls, they were unsafe. Without hesitation, the boys were able to explain the parallel to our lives -- without self control, we are without protection from our enemy, Satan.<br />
<br />
As I sat there with open Bibles all around, I was was convicted of my own lack of self control when it came to a few things. Like my temper. Like the words I choose to use at times. Like overeating. Just because it tastes good, sounds good, or looks good. <br />
<br />
Sigh. Once again, God moved me to choose something <strike>for the sake of my children</strike> that I needed desperately. <br />
<br />
Fortunately for all of us, there is an amazing promise in 2 Timothy 1:7: <i>for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and <b>self-control</b>. </i> <br />
<br />
That same power that raised Jesus from the dead is available to Griffin when he wants to kick Tucker's teeth in. It's available to Anne Claire when she wants to claim her tired legs won't permit her to throw away a paper towel. Those times Tucker would love nothing more than to toss Griffin off a roof? Yep, the power of the Holy Spirit is available to him if only he will stop and ask. <br />
<br />
And for me? Well, instead of succumbing to a loaf of French bread with real butter, I can know that I am created for more than this. I can know that I know that I know that God has given me a spirit of power and self control. <br />
<br />
<i>"For this is the will of God....that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor." 1 Thessalonians 4:3,4 </i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02144241206876112473noreply@blogger.com0