The Battle We Fight

Four years ago Burt had surgery for colon cancer. In my heart I believed he would win this physical battle. Being an optimistic person, I don’t generally see defeat in my mind. The doctor’s words that the surgery would “prolong life, not necessarily produce quality of life” were stuffed in the back of my mind and maybe I subconsciously decided to make an exception to that prediction. Now I start to see what that means. 

For the past four years he and I have fought his physical battle. We continued life as usual by visiting our sons and their families, socializing as we could with our friends, spending a part of almost every day riding on our farm property, feeding the fish, or simply enjoying the scenery. Sometimes I’d be bored and the ride would feel bumpy, but in my mind I logged the memory because deep down I knew one day I wouldn’t be able to do this–enjoy the simple gift of an ordinary day. 

Now that day is here.

Several years ago I read a book entitled Wild at Heart  by John Eldridge. In it he says every man needs a “battle to fight, an adventure to live, and a beauty to rescue.” In spite of his physical challenges, I still see Burt living out those desires.

One example being the fact that for the past few years we found ourselves always together. A simple errand became an opportunity to get out of the house, together.  And he always drove. I’d offer but he never seemed willing. Now I see this as a subconscious (or maybe a conscious) effort to “rescue his beauty,” to be my hero. He called it “driving Miss Daisy.” 

Thinking about that old movie brings up intense emotions. I probably couldn’t watch it now because of its reality. In my inexperienced mind I thought it was a sweet, sentimental story but now I feel I’m living it as one of the main characters. 

As his physical capability declined the past few years, I saw more and more efforts to help me with tasks and do things that mattered to me. This same guy, in our earlier years together, didn’t seem to notice my complaints about a chore that I had to do or a maintenance that needed attention. I think in his busy mind he knew he’d get around to it one day and meanwhile, he had bigger, more important battles to fight.  

Now his biggest battle is the battle to live. But his reason for wanting to win this battle isn’t just to overcome; it’s because he believes he still has to rescue his beauty…and that’s me.

A New and Different Man

Months ago when I heard a scuffle in the kitchen and the clatter of crashing plates, the metal tray crashing, and found Burt on the floor with his head against the kitchen island, I knew our life had changed. We took him to the nearest trauma center where he was diagnosed with a massive brain bleed. I didn’t know what the future looked like…I still don’t.  I try to get a pattern of behavior so I know what to expect, but it doesn’t happen. Every day is a little surprising. 

I think this is the hardest part of this journey: not knowing what to expect. I wonder constantly if Burt needs me,.  I find that every bump or tap in the night causes me to react in a panic. I listen for a ping on my phone or sound of footsteps coming down the hall to alert me to a need. The night caregivers remind me again that they can “handle it,” but just as a mama with a new baby, I feel that it should be me. That’s because no one knows or understands him as I do…except now sometimes I don’t. There are times I wish the people helping care for him would all leave us alone, yet the thought of having all the responsibility is overwhelming. Every day my heart cries out for him to be surrounded by those who can see past some of his confusion and odd comments and instead, see the strong, courageous, determined, and confident individual he once was.

Sometimes this same man emerges and he makes clever comments and I know he’s still in character. In reference to the number of times he calls for me each day, I said to him,”I’m about to go into the living room and visit with my friend. Don’t call me one hundred times!” “Okay,” he replied. “I’ll just call you ninety-nine.”

Recently one of our granddaughters said, “I miss seeing Pops the way he used to be.” I smiled when she added, “although now he’s nicer than he used to be.”  I have to agree with her. For most of the time he’s very easy and “chill” (as the kids say). He’s not as bothered by their actions as I’ve seen him be in times past. They can tease and toss indoor snowballs,make silly faces and turn his cap around on his head, and he seems unfazed by it all. If they’re running on the grass, the lawn he’s tried to maintain for years, he makes no comment–even when he’s wearing the tee shirt that says “keep off the grass” ( a fun Christmas gift a year ago). 

Now I see the tee shirt as a reminder that he’s no longer the same person. His efforts to have a pretty lawn require more energy and ability than he has to give. The memory of him on his knees trying to get off the ground after turning a sprinkler, or using a push mower to prevent tire marks from the riding mower, touches my emotions because he was making those efforts to have a pretty lawn because it was important to me. 

Somehow it doesn’t seem to matter as much any more. 

Christmas Reality

Today is Christmas 2022. I sit here and reflect on the past several days and, as I always do, I have regrets. I grieve the things that are and the things that are not.

I envision a picture perfect door decoration and entry. Without the help from a good friend, I wouldn’t even have had a wreath on the doors. My front porch has leaves and plastic bowls for pets, hunting clothes strewn over the rails, a pile of muddy shoes at the entrance.

Christmas morning breakfast should have had a table set with my favorite Christmas dishes, shiny sterling silver , a sideboard filled with sausage, grits casserole, ambrosia, cranberry scones. Neatly dressed children lined up, serving themselves after the adults are seated. Soft seasonal music in the background and a warm fire adding ambiance to the room.

It was more like a cyclone at the breakfast table. Paper plates strewn around. Baby’s chair with dried scrambled eggs. Mismatched cups and styrofoam leftovers from the previous meal. Nobody sitting down at the same time; prayers of thanks given as people shifted around .

The scene in the living room Christmas Eve was not picture-perfect. The grandchildren insisted on showing off their ugly teeth and silly faces as they clustered around their grandfather in his wheelchair—the same man who should have been bringing in the firewood and leading the Christmas devotional.

From the juxtapositional vignettes, my thoughts went to the original Christmas, the entry of the Babe of all babes, the Gift of all gifts: Jesus the Christ. The world He created was designed in perfection beyond all comprehension. It was supposed to be a magnificent garden where the inhabitants had not only every good and perfect sensory gift , but an eternal unbroken connection with the Master and Ultimate Father of the universe. The lion was to lie down with the lamb; the entire himan race was to be united in adoration of the God of all gods and experience only love and kindness for one another. There was supposed to be total peace and harmony. Instead, He came to a world of chaos and rebellion, hatred and separation. What colossal disappointment Jesus must experience when He found the mess mankind created here.

Is there any wonder why we grieve at Christmas? Could some of our feelings come from having the nature of Christ in us, the nature that yearns for peace, harmony, and love but gets the opposite?

A Prayer for Our Nation

This morning I’m responding to a conviction God has given me (and Burt Sr.). It’s a mandate to pray for our nation. I’d rather look at on-line catalogs and dream of Christmases past. I’d rather not think about the fact that our government is in a mess; that we can’t trust those in charge of our affairs. As much as I would like to remain quiet and not call attention to my passions, the words of Edmund Burke ring in my head:

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.

Satan’s lie is that there is nothing we can do. But according to Ephesians 6 and II Corinthians 10:4-6 (and other references from Genesis to Revelation!), there is something we can do—and it’s powerful and effective!

II Corinthians 10:4-6

For although we live in the natural realm, we don’t wage a military campaign,

employing human weapons, using manipulation to achieve our aims. Instead,

our spiritual weapons are energized with divine power to dismantle the

defenses behind which people hide.

…Since we are armed with such dynamic weaponry, we stand ready to punish

any trace of rebellion, as soon as you choose complete obedience.

Photo credit: Strange Farms

Choosing complete obedience is the area I have difficulty with.

We don’t know where the enemy is—but we do know WHO he is. We know the real enemy is the same one who tried to kill Jesus when He was a baby via Herod’s command, and the same one who thought he’d killed Him when he nailed Him to a cross.

The last few weeks I’ve felt weak and powerless to do anything about our political situation. And then came the conviction.

In Ephesians 6:18 (TPT), Paul writes,

“Pray passionately in the Spirit, as you

constantly intercede with every form of prayer at all times.”

There’s no wrong way to pray. Just come to the Father and Lord of all and let our requests be made known.

• I’m praying for honest answers to emerge from all the confusion and accusations and lies we hear from all the Talking Heads.

• I’m praying for humility and respect for God and other people to be restored.

• I’m praying that those of us who consider ourselves followers of Jesus will behave the way He would.

• I’m praying for the judges who are making decisions that will affect us and our posterity forever.

• I’m praying for protection and energizing of those who are trying to do the right thing and for the efforts of the evil forces in the unseen realm to be thwarted.

• But mainly, I’m praying that I’ll be obedient; that I’ll have the courage to speak out when the Spirit urges me to.

Jesus challenged His disciples to pray and NOT GIVE UP. In fact, that’s exactly what He says in Luke 18:1 (TPT).

“One day Jesus taught the apostles to keep praying and never stop or lose hope.”

So I’m challenging myself, as well as anyone else reading this, to PRAY for the next 10 days in particular. Pray as if your life depended on it.

Because it does.

I want to feel the satisfaction of Jesus’s words after Mary Magdalene poured costly oil over His head.

“She has done what she could” (Mark 14:8).

Provoking Children to Wrath

The Bible warns against “provoking a child to wrath.” I used to wonder why it didn’t say, “Children, don’t provoke your mothers to wrath,” but that’s before I came to understand what this verse means. The whole scripture says, 

“Fathers, don’t exasperate your children, but raise them up with loving discipline and counsel that brings the revelation of our Lord.”

Ephesians 6:4, The Passion Translation

Thankfully, before our sons grew up and left home (and before we did irreparable damage to them), I found some enlightening teaching on this verse by a theologian I greatly admire, Dr. Charles Swindoll. In his book entitled Parenting: From Surviving to Thriving, he explains this verse.

Our goal is not to break the child’s spirit. We never want to see the light go out in a child’s eyes. A hopeless child has no will at all. He or she has given up the possibility of pleasing Mom and Dad, knowing how to be successful, or feeling valued and loved. A broken spirit is the final result of a parent continually exasperating the child. Never go there. [page 55].

To provoke means to bring a child to the point of giving up on having a relationship with us, which is the saddest result of a wasted opportunity. We have the ability to form beautiful relationships with our best friends for life, but when the opportunity is gone we may never be able to reconnect with those we should be the closest to. With this in mind, I came to recognize ten ways we could cause a child to be defeated before s/he has a chance to succeed in life.

1. Criticizing and never praising a child. 

2. Attacking the child’s character (you’re slow, you’re dumb, you’re mean, you’re a baby…)

3. Inconsistent discipline. (Sometimes we punish; sometimes we let things go by, depending on how we feel at the moment. In this case, we teach the child to obey our mood and not our word).

4. Making promises we don’t keep.

5. Making threats we don’t carry out (and never intended to).

6. Embarrassing the child in front of others (calling attention to their mistakes or ineptitude, scolding them, or even ignoring them, etc.)

7. Exposing their secrets to other people.

8. Comparing the child to others, especially siblings.

9. Never admitting our mistakes to them or asking for their forgiveness.

10. Never getting to really know them.

On this last point, again I quote Dr. Swindoll:

“As a grandfather, I know now more than ever that each child takes time and attention to discover—lots of time and lots of attention.

They can benefit from all you can give them. I only wish I had known that better when my children were small.”

In light of this present pandemic, we have a chance to get to know our children and build a relationship that will be healthy and fulfilling to both them and us the rest of our lives.  Granted, children have to be taught to be obedient and cooperative (that’s another subject for another day). but right now I want to encourage moms to not blow our opportunity to build trust and a loving relationship with our children.

A Shelter-in-Place

We’re now entering seven weeks into the quarantine.

Or is it six weeks?

Or is it six months?

Or six years?

During this period I’ve experienced a full gamut of emotions. In some ways every day seems like every other day, but in other ways no two days have been the same. Some days I awaken with the urge to shampoo the carpet and peroxide the floors; other days I’m content with an unmade bed and unchallenged clutter.

Now we’re about to venture into some uncharted social waters. In stages, Somebody says emergence back to normal life is about to begin. Who’s calling these shots? Who’s pulling our strings and telling us what to believe and how to behave?

I’m not sure how I feel about this. I’m ready for a haircut and a reason to put on makeup, but then…not. Sequestered at home, I’m content to wear cozy clothes and let my hair color fade and live unaffected by the turbulent world outside my bubble.  

The question I have is, what is this all about? But more importantly, where is God in all this? I think this is what most people want to know—at least the people I know. In His infinite wisdom, has He pulled us aside to be sheltered in His presence, or has He sent us to time-out as naughty children?  To help make sense of it all, and to hopefully find answers, I turn to scripture where I find numerous parallels and similarities, particularly in the Old Testament. Some of the scriptures I come across seem perfectly applicable. For example, Isaiah 26: 20.

Come, my people, enter your chambers, and shut your doors behind you;

Hide yourself, as it were, for a little moment, until the indignation is past.

This is where we find ourselves at this moment in history. Trying to adjust to the new normal, when nobody can describe what it will be. I feel like a bomb has been dropped and we’re huddled in a bunker and we don’t know what the world will look like when we emerge.

While I’m in “hiding,” I have come to some conclusions.

 First, I don’t want to miss what God is doing at this time. If there is a lesson to be learned, a perfecting of my life to make me see Jesus clearer, a shift of priorities, or anything else, I don’t want to miss it!

Second, I don’t want to return to life as usual. Seems strange to say, but some of this experience has been good for me. Something had begun to feel wrong with my lifestyle. I had time for everything, yet never seemed to finish anything. There was always pressure to be somewhere or do something, and if I simply wanted a day to be with myself I felt I owed the world an apology. Now I want to sustain the luxury of solitude and reflection and freedom from having to explain why it feels good to stay in my home. But on the other hand, I want to enjoy being productive and creative, and trying to make a difference in another person’s life. I guess what I’m doing is attempting to distill out the important things from all the goings-on. 

Third, I want to come out of this a better person. In Genesis 19: 26, I read the account of Lot and his wife fleeing the city of Sodom before God destroyed it.

But his wife looked back behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.

I don’t know all the meaning of this verse, but the message I got from it was that I don’t want that to happen to me. The implication to me seems to be if I look back to the old way of living and yearn for things to return to usual, I can become dead and lifeless.  A few years ago I wrote in my journal that certain people are called to be “bread and wine” for others. I asked myself, who am I willing to be broken and spilled out for? I also wrote that at times I felt used up and dried out and that I didn’t feel I had anything to give anybody. I needed to go back to the source of supply. I think this is what I’m getting from this period of isolation. I know the Lord is drawing His people aside to teach, tell, and prepare us for whatever it is He’s doing or getting ready to do next. I want to be ready. I want to be prepared. I want to be fresh and full of life as described in Isaiah 53:11-12.

The Lord will guide you continually, watering you when you are dry and keeping you healthy, too. You will be like a well-watered garden, like an overflowing spring.

Your children will rebuild the deserted ruins of your cities. Then you will be known as the people who rebuild their walls and cities.

The conclusion I have is that something BIG is going on. The social, physical, and spiritual elements of our lives are being rearranged. I don’t have a plan yet for coping. I vacillate between shopping for the cutest face mask to wondering if the world is about to melt.

The second day of the quarantine, I was reminded of the way the word shelter is used in so many scriptural references. 

For He will hide me in His shelter in the day of trouble... Psalm 27:5.

God is our shelter and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble. So we will not be afraid…Psalm 46:1-3.

Let me take shelter under the shadow of your wings…Psalm 61:4.

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide under the shadow of the Almighty…Psalm 91:1.

THERE HAS ALWAYS BEEN A SHELTER–IN-PLACE.

HIS NAME IS JESUS.

What I want to know is that I’ve weathered this storm well and my confidence in God’s protection and guidance is stronger. I also want to know that I’m prepared for the next wave that hits me, whether it’s a reoccurrence of the virus or something else. My goal is to live life with the full awareness that Jesus is in my boat…and I’m in His.

Lessons in Raising Boys

I was honored to guest post this content last summer on the SitterTree blog about the joys (and challenges) of raising boys. It’s a topic I’m often asked about, so I wanted to take the opportunity to repost those life lessons here on my personal blog for anyone that may have missed it over there.

~

Being the only female in a family consisting of a husband and five sons taught me a little about males and rearing boys. What I’ve learned over the years can be summarized into one sentence:

Boys want to act like grown men, and grown men sometimes want to act like boys.

So what’s a mom to do? Try to recognize the “why” behind the behavior, relax, and enjoy them. Though that’s the bare basics, there are some other helpful tips I have come to know and I’d love to share with you.

Lesson #1: Boys are fun.

They’re generally competitive, energetic, loud, and they love potty jokes. And they love their mamas. Little boys want their father’s approval, but they want their mama’s admiration. 

Lesson #2: Boys Crave Respect.  

They can’t help it; it’s part of their spiritual DNA. I believe the need for respect is one reason boys are so competitive (at least ours were—still are, in fact).

From the book, Wild Things: the Art of Nurturing Boys, by Stephen James and David Thomas, comes the following statement:  

The best way for a mother to nurture the heart of her son

Is to develop a relationship with him from an early age that

Is grounded in mutual respect. This means she must show him 

She respects his individuality, his feelings, his strengths, and

His needs—especially when she doesn’t agree with him.

Lesson #3: Boys Enjoy Competing.

When our sons were growing up together, I could get their cooperation with almost anything if there was a competition involved: unloading groceries, for example. 

Back in those days, there was no ordering online or Instacart delivery. It was a weekly trip to the grocery store and three buggies filled with five gallons of milk, innumerable boxes of cereal, loaves of bread, and everything else to feed a small multitude. Unloading all that stuff at home was when the challenge began. 

All I had to do was to tell them not to pick up something that was too heavy for them. That’s when they contested to see who could bring in the biggest load. They’d risk a hernia to outdo one another, and then show me their bulging muscles to prove the effort was worth it.  Humm…does this sound a little bit like work? Absolutely! And these competitive challenges applied to everything they did.

Lesson #4: Boys Thrive on Tasks Accomplished.

One of the healthiest things we did for our sons was to give them a chance to work for a goal. Sometimes they were rewarded with cash, but often the satisfaction of doing a job and being praised was sufficient to keep them motivated.

Lesson #5: Boys Like to Manage One Another. 

Sometimes this works; sometimes not so much! For example, we had a rule that if somebody burped at the table (which they totally enjoyed doing), that person had to do the dishes. Anything worse than that required cleaning the bathroom.  Believe me, everybody was on alert to catch any offender! 

Lesson #6: Boys Love Adventure.

They love to explore. Because their dad farmed for a living, we were able to rear our tribe in the country, fifteen miles from town. They spent their formative years exploring the woods, the creek, and the fields with their dad and grandfather. When they got a little older, they would pack a snack on Saturday mornings and disappear for several hours.  With that freedom came a level of expectation from them. They knew I trusted them to make good decisions and they didn’t want to disappoint me. 

Lesson #7: Boys Live Up to Expectations We Put on Them. 

Our trust in our boys was built with many hours of one-on-one time with each son.  For our family, the prime time was at bedtime. Granted, this is when we mothers are most exhausted, but I spent innumerable hours lying beside our boys, “crawleying” on their backs, allowing them to share their deepest thoughts and concerns and it opened up an opportunity to bond with them. Establishing this level of trust and expectations paid off in great dividends when they became teenagers. They never let us down because they knew we counted on them.

Lesson #8: Boys Need to Know They Can Trust Us, As Well.  

Never break their confidence. Nothing shuts down communication quicker and better than for him to find out we’ve repeated or disclosed something he told us in secret.

Lesson #9: Boys Have Tender Hearts.

In spite of all the bravado and boisterous behavior, I believe there is a tender heart inside every little boy.   I think every little boy responds positively to one-on-one time with each parent. The relationship between a boy and his dad is special and critical to his development, but the thread that ties a son to his mother’s heart is a beautiful thing. As boys mature, they still need to feel they have a soft emotional place to return to, but they appreciate the release and the freedom to be the men God created them to be.

A note about SitterTree:

SitterTree is a babysitter booking app for families, churches, and sitters, currently serving Atlanta.