Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

Matt and I were watching one of our favorite shows the other night - Parks and Recreation.  We had one of those rare and much needed moments of gut-busting laughter when Ron Swanson made the following comment: "There's only one thing I hate more than lying: skim milk.  Which is water lying about being milk."  If you aren't laughing right now, I feel sorry for you, or maybe just embarrassed for me because I find that statement to be hilarious.

Regardless of your position on skim milk, you probably have strong feelings about lying.  There's a No Lying policy in the Big 10, (as in the 10 Commandments) so it's pretty clear that God is not a fan.  (I wonder how He feels about skim milk.....)  In fact, Hebrews 6:18 says that "It is impossible for God to lie."  When I consider the promises found in Scripture, promises that we depend on, cling to even, I am so grateful that my God is completely trustworthy.  Titus 1:2 speaks of "A faith and knowledge resting on the hope of eternal life, which God, who does not lie, promised before the beginning of time."  But God's truthfulness goes beyond an incapacity to lie.  James 1:17-18 says that "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning."  We serve a God who's steadfastly trustworthy.  He doesn't just speak the truth, He is the standard for truth.  He doesn't vary, or waver, or veer off the path of truth.  Not even by the slightest shadow.  So when we read His Word, we can be confident that it is true.  And as we read His Word and seek to become more like this God who speaks truth only and always, how can we not be offended by even the slightest of lies?

Many parents that I know and respect have a strong policy against lying in their home.  Most homes have a few "Big Rules" and No Lying is often one of them.  It is not ever tolerated and is met with swift punishment.  After reading the above paragraph, and with even the most basic knowledge of the Bible, this makes perfect sense.  But I have a confession to make.  You may be tempted to judge me, but I implore you after your initial horrific reaction, to continue reading and give me a chance to explain myself.

If I were to list our family's "Big Rules, " I wouldn't include "No Lying."

Gasp, shock, horror, judgement.  "Um, hello, your husband is a PASTOR!  And you don't think lying is a big deal?!?!"   I can hear what you're thinking, and I know, I know.  And someday, if my children become derelict, lying cheats, you can say "I told you so."  But until then, hold the judgey comments and let me unpack this.

I don't like being lied to any more than the next guy.  Or mom, for that matter.  And please understand that we do not allow or condone lying.  But I have become a student of parenting, and while I'm no expert, I can honestly (seriously, I'm not lying) say that over the years I have watched and studied and all but stalked perhaps hundreds of parents in my pursuit to figure out what successful parenting looks like.  As a teacher, parent, and former children's pastor's wife (I'm still married to the same guy - he's just no longer a children's pastor), I have had the opportunity to observe many parents and families.  One thing I have seriously and specifically studied is how parents handle lying.  Because just like you, I want my children to be truthful and trustworthy.  The problem with taking a hard and strong stance on lying is that it is often difficult to catch.  I have watched teachers and parents accuse a child of lying, convinced based on evidence that they are correct.  And then after the punishment has been doled out and the child serves their sentence, new information comes to light and the child is proved a truth teller and the adult finds themself in a terrible position.  Because now, the child has learned that it's not so important whether or not they tell the truth, as it is important that the adult believes it.  Conversely, I have watched a child lie and their parent or teacher believe them.  With punishment avoided, or even reward handed out, that child learns that the truth is far less important as the ability to sell a lie.  Children learn quickly that there are times that the risk of being caught lying is worth it, when the punishment they will receive if they tell the truth is bad enough to attempt deception.  It's a gamble, and some children enjoy gambling, especially the ones that are good at lying.  I myself was a terrible liar as a child - I have a feeling my parents could tell when I was lying even if their eyes were closed.  In fact, I was a bit of a chronic confessor.  Most of the time I was so burdened by guilt that I would tell my parents everything I had done wrong before they had a chance to ask.  I have this memory of riding in the car on the way home from church, and as I was confessing to my parents like they were the local priest, my mom gently said, "you know, you don't have to tell us every mistake you've made today."    

Fast forward 20 some-ish years and we are raising 3 little girls who are quickly showing themselves to be these abstract mixtures of their parents' personalities.  Translation: not all of them are chronic confessors.  Several weeks ago we began to notice a pattern of, shall we say, untruthfulness, in our middle child.  She's not an outright liar so much as she has her own "creative" version of the truth.  Oh how that girl loves a technicality.  Ask her if she did her homework, and you can see the wheels turning in her head as she reasons "I did do my homework, I did a lot of homework."  So she answers yes.  But after further investigation you find that she hasn't even begun the packet of reading homework due in 3 days.  Busted?  Absolutely not, because, incredulously she'll exclaim, "I didn't know you meant ALL my homework!  You should have been more clear!"  And because she technically hasn't lied and she technically hasn't even failed to do the homework that is actually and imminently due, you, the parent, are completely hosed.  Sigh.  After a few of these incidents were starting to run together and become a pattern, Matt and I knew we had to figure this out.  As a professional stalker, er I mean studier of parents, I knew that if I played this out with a black and white approach, punishing my daughter for lying and accusing her of what was obviously becoming a sin pattern in her life, it would backfire.  My brilliant and creative-thinking daughter would only focus on her version of truth and our obviously unfair reaction and at best she might learn to be a better truth-teller so she didn't get in trouble and at worst she would learn to be a better liar so she didn't get caught.  But I don't want my daughter to tell me the truth to avoid punishment - that's not a win for me.  What I want is for my daughter to love the truth, to be compelled to honesty, and most importantly for God's truthful character to become part of who she is.  So instead of focusing on the lie, we chose to focus on the truth.  I pulled Sofi aside, after we had a confrontation where I believed she had been dishonest with me.  She had thrown something at her sister, and claimed it was an accident (and I believe she had convinced herself that this was true), while I sensed that it was more purposeful.  We discussed Truth - how God is truthful, how His Word is truth and how those truths are full and complete and worth celebrating.  Then I gently brought up the fact that I had noticed a pattern of partial truths coming from her mouth.  I told her what was most important to me was not whether or not she admitted her mistake to me, but that she acknowledged the truth with herself, and then allowed that truth to come into the light.  John 8:32 says that "you will know the truth and the truth will set you free."  This verse isn't specifically talking about lying - the truth that it refers to here is the Truth that leads to salvation.  But throughout Scripture I believe we see that over and over again, when sin is brought into the light and dealt with, when truth is spoken and a course is corrected, there is freedom.  Jonah ran from God and was swallowed by a whale - when he admitted his sin, he was literally set free.  Joseph's brothers lived with the lies that covered up what they had done to him in secret and when that lie was laid bare and they were forgiven, there was celebration and freedom from not only their sin but from starvation as well.  When Adam and Eve lied in the Garden, God brought forth the truth.  And while yes, there was a consequence for their sin, God also provided for them and put into motion His plan for redemption.  I could go on and on.  So I told Sofi I wasn't going to ask her for the truth right now, because I wanted her to take some time to talk to her Heavenly Father to see what He was trying to teach her.  And I left it at that.

Later that evening Matt and I called her into our room and again, let her know that we wanted to know the truth of what happened, that we wanted to not only deal with her sin but celebrate the freedom that comes with the truth.  This time, she openly confessed, not only what I suspected - that she had intentionally thrown something at her sister - but also, that she had been dishonest with herself and with me.  I could tell that this had been a true revelation to her, that God had shone His light of truth into her humanly deceitful heart (as all of our hearts are) and she had discovered something for perhaps the first time.  There was a consequence doled out, but more importantly we stopped and thanked God for her truthfulness and the freedom it offered her.  And you know what?  My little girl's face just shone.  Because God's Word is true, and when it promises freedom, it delivers.  That night she learned that the cost of lying - the bondage that comes from truth denied - is higher than the reward of getting away with sin.  And while I have no doubt she'll lie again (because as sinners we inevitably sin repeatedly), I also know that she thinks differently about telling the truth.  Over the days and weeks since that conversation, I have seen a pattern of deceitfulness emerge into a pattern of truthfulness.  Not because she doesn't want to get into trouble, but because she knows the freedom of telling the truth.

Fast forward a couple of weeks and again, the Monster of Lies reared its ugly head, this time with our youngest daughter.  Because she has only spent 1 of her 4 years of life on this earth in our home, we're still early on in this process of teaching our values, and more importantly God's values.  Truth was in no way valued or modeled in her home and so convincing her to be truthful when she might get into trouble is an uphill climb.  Seeing as she rarely (possibly never) tells the truth when she thinks she can get away with a lie, we seldom find the opportunity to celebrate truth telling with her.  It was getting to be overwhelming, in that "I give up I've already failed and there's no hope" kind of way.  The heartbreaking thing was that the thing she continually lies about (incidentally it's wetting her pants), is not something we even discipline her for.  Over and over again we promise her that she won't be in trouble, we just want to know the truth so that we can take care of her and keep her safe.  However, the fear substantiated by years in a home so different from ours, continually drowns out our promises.  But oh how that little girl loves Jesus and is thrilled to hear and learn His Word, so I kept telling her over and over again how the Bible says the truth will set you free.  The first time I told her, she gasped, with her tiny little hands clasped together and said, "Free?!  I want to be free!"  But it would be weeks before that desire would overcome the years of pain and experience that had taught her that lies are acceptable and even safer than the truth.  A few days ago we were again faced with one of those moments where I knew the truth that she desperately wanted to hide, and so I prayed that God would help her have the courage to be truthful.  It may seem like a little thing, completely inconsequential.  But when that little girl admitted with trembling lips and shaking hands that she had just peed her pants, I was so proud of her and I know that Heaven celebrated with as much enthusiasm as we did.  "I'm free!" she exclaimed, so completely full of joy.  And when she experienced me keeping my promise not to punish her, it did more for her little heart than a thousand words ever could.

So I ask you this: is your home simply a place where lies are not tolerated?  Or is it a place where truth is celebrated?  When mistakes are made, sin is brought to the surface, and your child is caught in a lie, do they feel backed against a wall of punishment?  Are they forced to choose between the harsh bricks of that wall that will certainly cause them pain and the escape hatch of a lie that might just save the day?  Or can they find truth like a gate in the wall - which may bring momentary discomfort but is also a doorway to freedom?  Take some time this week to read what God's Word has to say not only about lying but about truth and freedom from a sin forgiven.  You might find that "No Lying" isn't such an important rule after all.        

April Fools

Warning: this post may contain some awkward or TMI anecdotes, mostly about pregnancy.  If you do not wish to think or read about what goes on during the 9 (actually 10) months it takes to grow a tiny human inside of your (or actually my) body, please feel free to return to perusing Facebook or Twitter, or more appropriate posts from the blogosphere.  If you continue on, don't say I didn't warn you.  

One of the annoying unique aspects of being pregnant is the frequent trips to the doctor.  With a "normal" pregnancy, you'll visit your friendly ob/gyn practitioner over a dozen times.  If there are complications, say you have a low riding uterus that threatens to release your still developing tiny human before his due time, you get extra visits.  Lots of extra visits, complete with extra ultrasounds.  (And not the nice kind where they squeeze goo on your belly and look at the baby through said gooey belly).  And at every visit you pee in a cup, hobble onto a scale (like I want to know what I weigh these days), have more of that goo smeared all over your belly, and answer a myriad of awkward questions.  I have to say, some of those questions are hard.  Like, shouldn't there be multiple choice or something?  There's a lot of pressure in having to accurately describe each type of pain, it's duration, it's origin, and it's reaction to a dozen different factors from my position to the state of my bladder.  What happens if I forget?  I can barely remember my name these days!  Other questions feel ridiculous if not down right insulting.  If I wasn't smoking at the beginning of my pregnancy, what makes you think I'd take up a nicotine habit just in time to screw up junior's neural pathways?  Good grief.  But the question I hate the most (and screw up the most often, incidentally) is "What number pregnancy is this for you?"  

I remember after each of my pregnancies with the girls feeling grateful that my number of pregnancies was equal to my number of healthy, full term babies.  I breathed a sigh of relief not to be in the more-pregnancies-than-live-births club.  So the first time I went for a prenatal visit with this pregnancy, I answered The Question without thinking: "This is my 3rd pregnancy."  It took me a couple of minutes to realize my mistake at which point I bumbled all over myself that it was actually my fourth pregnancy, I had a miscarriage a few months ago and totally forgot... not the miscarriage, but to mention it."  Of course my doctor already knew about my miscarriage so I think the question was part of a test to see if I had started smoking.  Good grief.  Then of course there is the added complication that I have 3 children.  So now I'm explaining how I have 3 children and 3 pregnancies, only one of the children isn't biological or even mine actually, but that's a long story.  At which point I'm wondering why she doesn't just screen me for drug use.  But I digress.  

Back to miscarriages.  I've been giving it a lot of thought because today was the due date for my third pregnancy.  I am not a very superstitious person but I remember calculating my due date after that positive pregnancy test (who am I kidding, I had the due date calculated at least a week before I took the test...just in case...) and when I saw that it was April 1st, it made me paranoid.  After a year and a half of trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant, an April Fool's due date seemed like a bad sign.  Month after month I calculated possible due dates and decided each time that it was truly perfect timing.  Then came April 1st.  And while I still don't believe in bad signs or the power of a practical jokester holiday to end my pregnancy, I can't help but think it's ironic.  The whole mess of infertility and the miscarriage and now a complicated pregnancy has been ironic.  And when I think of how we got pregnant with Sofi while I was breastfeeding my 5 month old and on birth control, well, it all just defines irony I guess.  

So today as I've been thinking of a pregnancy lost even as I give thanks for the little guy I'm carrying today, I thought I'd share with you some of the things I've learned after going through a miscarriage.  Because while it is statistically common to suffer a miscarriage, it is far less common to talk about it.  There were things I wondered about or foolishly assumed when I heard that someone had miscarried, things that I see or feel or experience very differently now.  So for those who have wondered, but have been fortunate enough not to find out for themselves, here are some things that I learned from my miscarriage.  

First, miscarriages hurt.  Not just figuratively, but literally.  You walk around for days trying to forget what happened or move on at least, only your body has to constantly remind you that it's getting rid of the baby you had pictured yourself holding.   My miscarriage happened really early (I was only 5 weeks along), so I would imagine it would be more painful the further along you are.  I was also fortunate enough to miscarry on my own, without medical intervention.  In the future, I will be so much more compassionate towards those women who have to face medical procedures on top of coping with their loss.  

Second, miscarriages hurt.  Ok, I know that was my first point.  But this time I mean emotionally.  It's not just the feeling of loss and disappointment and guilt even (because even though you logically know it's not your fault, you also intrinsically know that it was your body alone that your baby depended on to give him or her the chance to grow into a tiny person who would love math or play soccer or grow up to be a nobel peace prize winner...).  I think I had a fair idea that those feelings would be difficult to sort through after a miscarriage.  What took me by surprise was the actual sense of life lost inside of me.  Like death crept in and life seeped out, leaving this hollow place that should have been filled with fingers and toes and a beating heart.  It may sound dramatic, but it's the best way I can describe it.  

Third, getting pregnant again is terrifying.  We waited until we were 3 months along before we shared the news, and even then I immediately wished I could take it back.  Other people we knew were announcing pregnancies at 8 weeks or even earlier and I remember feeling jealous that they had the luxury of taking for granted the fact that their pregnancy would result in an actual living, healthy, breathing baby.  I was throwing up several times a day at that point, completely exhausted and constantly anxious.  And I remember thinking that it was so hard to constantly feel sick without allowing myself to also feel excited; to be exhausted from growing a tiny human that I couldn't allow myself to connect with.  I had this tradition where I went out and bought something for the baby the I day I found out I was pregnant.  Isabel has a little pooh bear and Sofi has a giraffe she named "Raffey."  I loved telling them that I bought their stuffed toy the day I knew they were in my belly.  So the day I found out I was pregnant last July, I went out and bought a little baby Cookie Monster.  I still have it, and honestly I don't know what to do with it.  It seems too sad to get rid of it, but sort of morbid to keep it for the "new baby."  Incidentally, with this pregnancy, I didn't go out and buy the traditional gift.  I couldn't bear the thought of losing this baby and maybe more after, and then ending up with a closet full of toys for babies that were never born.  I know, so totally depressing.  (I did break down and buy a little Mickey Mouse the day we found out we were having a boy).  Finally, Matt gently pointed out to me that I always referred to the baby as a possibility rather than a reality - as in "if the baby's born" or "if this pregnancy gets to x weeks..."  So slowly and deliberately I began talking about our baby, planning for his arrival, getting excited about all the things you're supposed to celebrate with pregnancy.  I still feel anxious, I calculate the days and odds of survival if he was born right now, and sometimes I have to force myself to think of his birth as an eventual reality and not just a possibility.  And I wonder if it will take holding him in my arms to know he's really ok, or if even then I'll worry obsessively that he'll stop breathing in his sleep.  I've always prided myself in being an intentionally non-obsessive parent, but that may go out the window.

Last, getting pregnant again doesn't erase your thoughts of the baby you lost.  I find myself wondering, especially today, if it would have been a boy or a girl.  I wonder what he or she would have been like, if they would have looked like one of the girls (who looked nothing alike when they were born), would I have worried obsessively about him or her or would I have taken their health and existence for granted the way I did with my first 2 babies?  I always wondered if you had another child after a miscarriage, would you look at that child and love them so much that you'd be able to accept the loss that made their life possible?  I wonder now, once I hold my son if it will all feel worth it.  And I force myself to believe and say out loud, that in only a few more months I'll find out.  

I started the book 1000 Gifts just before I had the miscarriage and continued to read it even as I struggled with the range of feelings, only a few of which I have had the time to share with you.  I don't have any real answers, I don't know why I spent months begging God to give me a baby only to wind up asking Him why He allowed me to experience the joy of life given and devastation of life lost.  But as I read that book and practiced gratitude for all things, great and small, I felt Him carry me through death and offer me peace that passes understanding.  It was a month later that we faced the possibility of cancer with Isabel and then celebrated her healing.  And it was a month after that when I held another pregnancy test and told God I would trust Him no matter what.  I can tell you that the only reason I trust God is because He gives me the strength to.  My story, while it has some dark pages and periods of loss and pain, is truly a gift.  I have on many occasions felt guilty for the brief pity parties I have allowed myself to attend.  Many women struggle with infertility without the blessing of already having given birth to 2 beautiful, healthy babies.  And while today is a due date that came and went without the baby I hoped to hold, this week I begin the 3rd trimester and final countdown to meet my firstborn son.  This world is full of life and death and hope and disappointment.  But today, this day of fools, the day after we celebrated Christ's resurrection, we are reminded that we don't belong here anyways.  We were created for so much more and this world will always feel empty as long as we try to find our meaning within it.  

One more thing I've wondered since the miscarriage (and by wonder I mean more abstractly, not in a needs-to-be-settled-in-theological-debate sort of way): When is our soul created?  I don't know if the baby I lost had a soul, if he or she is in heaven or if it even matters.  But happy due day little one - you were loved and you are missed.