Plot Twist

I love the "On This Day" feature on Facebook. Having an infant and a toddler makes me all nostalgic for the days when my big girls were little and it's fun to look back and see how they've grown. Several weeks ago, Facebook reminded me (because they "care about me and the memories I've shared") that I started this blog 4 years ago. I had to laugh at my first couple of posts which laid out the reason I started this blog, along with some cute pictures of my (not so) big girls:

Four years ago we announced our plans to add to our family of 4 by adopting a child with special needs from China. Update: we are now a family of 6, and none of us were born outside of the midwest. All four of our kids are biological and we never made it to China. I've been struggling with the story of how we went from our plans to travel the globe to bring home our third son or daughter, to having 2 more biological children. Like any good story, it has broken parts and dark spaces punctuated by bursts of joy all washed in grace. Here's how the story unfolds...

Four years ago,  Wait. Let me back up further. Five years ago, we decided we were ready to add another child to our family. We had just started volunteering as a Safe Family and loved the fun and chaos that another child brought into our home, but there was always an empty space when each placement ended and another child went back home. After months went by and we still weren't pregnant, I began to wonder if God wanted us to adopt. It was something I'd always considered, and as Matt and I prayed over weeks and months my desire to have a biological child was replaced by a new desire to adopt. Our prayers and research led us to our decision to adopt a child with special needs from China. We were so excited. We met with a local agency about doing our home study and filled out the paperwork and wrote the check for the initial fees. The stamped envelope was sitting on my kitchen counter when I received a phone call that would change our lives. We had recently taken in a new placement through Safe Families - an almost 3 year old little girl named Audrey. In the few weeks that she had been with us, it had become clear that her situation was more complicated than others we had dealt with in the past, and we had become attached to her very quickly. As I sat on the phone talking with my coach, she let me know that Audrey would be transitioning to foster care and would be leaving our home to stay with a foster family. I immediately asked if it was possible for us to foster her. Matt and I had some hard discussions, but from the beginning, his response was "we can do this for her. We can do this for Audrey." And so the envelope on the counter never got sent. Why cross the globe to rescue a child when there was one already sleeping in the bedroom upstairs?

I had big dreams for Audrey. My plan from day 1 was to adopt her - after all, that's what we started out to do: add to our family via adoption. I envisioned years of family vacations, sending her off to college, watching her walk down the aisle. Clearly I'm a bit neurotic with the future plans. When my dreams for her didn't come true, I began looking back at my story, at my family's story, and suddenly the plot twists and turns didn't make sense. All the pieces that neatly fell into place were now jumbled and I began to wonder if I heard God correctly, or if I ever heard Him at all. Have you ever found yourself standing center stage, wondering how your story got so messed up?

Speaking of stories, my 2 year old is currently obsessed with the story of Jonah. So much so, that sometimes when he retells the story, he places himself in the story. I don't know if he truly is called to "tell the bad people in Ninevah to obey God!" but he's pretty convincing when he exclaims that he got swallowed up by a whale. His favorite part of the story, which we have in picture book form, is when Jonah is sinking and says, "glug, glug, glug." Ironically, the Bible study I've been doing recently walked through the story of Jonah. It's not one of my favorites, to be honest. Jonah is a bit whiny and naive in my humble opinion. How do you hear the voice of God and assume He can't find you on a boat sailed off in the opposite direction of God's calling? And then he gets a second chance, only to whine that God gave Ninevah a second chance as well? He reminds me of my 2 year old, throwing tantrums when he doesn't get his way. Anyways, for my whole life, I've always thought that "the moral of the story of Jonah is: don't disobey God or He will punish you." It makes sense - Jonah disobeyed God, God punished him, he obeyed God. Solid theology. Unless... what if the story isn't really about Jonah? What if Jonah isn't the main character? Over the past few years I've had the privilege of working as a writer of children's ministry curriculum. It's challenged me to sit down with a passage of Scripture and really examine it, so that I can accurately retell it in child-friendly language. It seemed simple enough when I started, but it's a hefty responsibility to paraphrase the Word of God and help form the faith of a child. What I learned quickly from veteran kidmin leaders is that it's imperative to remember that God's Word is about God. He is the central character. Each passage, or story, reveals more about who God is and His plan for us. It's a subtle shift, but it makes all the difference. What does God do in the story of Jonah? He calls Jonah (Jonah 1:2-3), who immediately ran away. God then sent a huge storm, seemingly to get Jonah's attention (Jonah 1:4). After Jonah instructs the sailors to throw him overboard, God calms the sea and the sailors were in awe of God's power and worshipped Him (Jonah 1:18). Next comes Z's favorite part: glug, glug, glug... and then God sends a fish to swallow Jonah. We read in chapter 2 that Jonah cries out to God from the inside of the fish, which reveals some interesting insight. Jonah describes his ordeal, saying 

"Ocean gripped me by the throat

The ancient Abyss grabbed me and held tight.

My head was all tangled in seaweed

at the bottom of the sea where the mountains take root.

I was as far down as a body can go,

and the gates were slamming shut behind me forever

Yet you pulled me up from that grave alive

Oh God, my God!"

This isn't a man describing his punishment - Jonah is outlining his salvation! God, in His grace, pursued Jonah, and when Jonah called out He saved him from death. And then His next move isn't to lecture or chastise but to offer a second chance - chapter 3 begins with God issuing the same call, in the same words, offering Jonah a do-over. I was reminded as I read my devotional, that God didn't need Jonah to send His message. Clearly God was capable of speaking for Himself. I'm also pretty certain that He could have let Jonah head off to his new life in Tarshish and found a new prophet to speak on His behalf. It's what I would have done. Jonah seems like a real pain; surely it would have been easier to let him off the hook and miss out on God's calling. But God had a message for Jonah as much as He had a message for Ninevah and both messages go something like this: God sees you, and despite your disobedience, He is pursuing you so that you can know Him and His love for you. He knows that you are sinking and He is here to save you. Whoa - that's a long way from "don't disobey God or He will punish you." And if we place Jonah as the central character, we may find a truth but we don't find the Truth that God is telling.

The same is true with the story we are living. 

When I place myself as the central character of my life, the spotlight that shines on my mistakes reveals a story that often feels disjointed and hopeless.  It's the easiest story to see, because it's the one that I can tell on my own. But when God is the central character, when I step aside and let Him both direct and move within the story, then my mistakes reveal more about God's grace than my own hopelessness.  The story is infinitely more beautiful - and at times mysterious - and it always works for my good. It's hard to follow a script that I'm not writing, even harder when I can't look ahead. Sometimes I question where the plot is headed - sometimes I'm tempted to hop in a boat going the opposite direction. 

Jonah delivers God's message, and #classicJonah, he gets mad that God forgives the evil people of Ninevah. He pouts and throws a real fit, where he dares to tell God he ran away to Tarshish because 

"I knew you were sheer grace and mercy, not easily angered, rich in love, and ready at the drop of a hat to turn your plans of punishment into a program of forgiveness!"(Jonah 4:2) 

And when God asks what he has to be angry about, Jonah "just left." (v5) And proceeded to sulk. The nerve of this guy!!! Right there is where I expect God to bring the thunder. But again, He pursues Jonah,and  teaches him a lesson. For whatever reason, God chose to end the book of Jonah there. We don't know what Jonah chose to do next - whether he came to his senses or walked away from God. But then again, the story isn't about Jonah. So does it really matter?

I don't know yet why God placed China on our hearts. I don't know if He'll call us to adopt someday, or if that desire was placed there for another purpose. I do know that God's story will continue to unfold, and my desire is to play whatever role God has for me. And when I struggle with the hard parts of this story and am tempted to shine a spotlight on my mistakes, God is there with the same message He had for Ninevah and for Jonah: 

When I hide, He sees me.
When I run, He pursues me. He reveals Himself to me. He loves me.
When I am sinking, He saves me.
Glug, glug, glug. 

Unexpected Saviour

Today I caught my 2 year old holding the Baby Jesus from one of our Nativity play sets and telling Him sternly: "You have been naughty. You are on the Naughty List! So there!" Clearly we need to spend a little more time on the Christmas narrative, ha!

I love the story of Jesus' birth - the way each prophesy is miraculously fulfilled, the simple characters who find themselves cast in starring roles, the contrast of angel choirs and and a heavenly star with a rustic manger in meager surroundings. I have been pregnant over 4 different Christmases, and each time I find myself wondering at the thoughts and prayers of Mary, the girl chosen to give birth to the Son of God in the most amazing of circumstances. 

But the part of the story that fascinates me the most is the part before Luke 2. Before the manger, before the heavenly hosts, before the girl and her fiancee and the Angel deployed from Heaven with the message of a coming Savior. The part that fascinates me is the space between the last Words spoken in the Old Testament and the first Words spoken in the New. For 400 years, God's people wait in the silence, holding on to the Promise of a Savior. Their waiting could not have been easy. By the time the Savior is born, they are oppressed and discouraged. Forced to submit to Roman rule, they are subject to the whims of dictators that do not honor their faith or fear their God. I imagine in The Waiting, they anchored their hope in the Promised Messiah. The words of Isaiah 9:6-7 must have been whispered in dark moments, giving them strength to hold on...

"For unto us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace, there will be no end. He will reign on David's throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this."

While I sing these words in carols or hear them read during Christmas services, I don't cling to them in the way the Israelites surely did. Far removed from an oppressive government with the power to murder all firstborn sons on a whim, I'm not desperate for a King to reign on David's Throne. But when I remember God's People in the waiting, the oppression, the longing for a Savior, I see the Christmas Story differently. Sometimes we shake our head at the silliness of God's People, refusing to accept their own Promised Messiah. But He simply wasn't the Savior they expected. He wasn't the fulfillment of the Promise they were looking for. And before I judge them too harshly, I have to admit that I, too, often reject God's Promises because they don't look the way I expect them to. I politely decline God's Saving because I think I know how and when He's supposed to save. I take God's Own Words and interpret them through the lens of my wants and needs and then use them against Him.  "But you promised... " and where the Israelites claimed promises of deliverance and overthrown governments, I claim promises of healing and a life full of blessings without trials.

I've been thinking about this a lot this Christmas season, as I've prayed for Isabel's healing. It's been over 9 months since she woke up unable to walk. One

night she was healthy and active and happy. The next morning we were rushing her to the hospital because she was screaming in pain. Over the past 9 months they poked and prodded and tested and still no answers as to why she continues to be in pain. She handles it well, but she can't run or straighten her knee, and she walks with a painful limp. All of the time. We finally gave in a couple of weeks ago and let her start using crutches for part of the day, in hopes that the rest of the day she could walk better. Ice packs and prescription pain meds and compression wraps get her through each day. I pray for her constantly - I pray for answers and healing. I turn to Scriptures that lead us to "pray for each other so that you may be healed" (James 5:16) or that promise that "By His wounds you have been healed" (1 Peter 2:24). I pray to a God that I know does and can heal. And when He doesn't fulfill His promises as I interpret them, I get frustrated. 

The passage that I have found myself coming back to (and by coming back to, I mean struck in the face by) is James 1:2-4

"Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don't try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way." (MSG)

Could it be that the healing I pray for, is really a desire to get out of something prematurely? As I think back over the tests and challenges we've faced in recent years - years of waiting for a baby, followed by a miscarriage, followed by a difficult pregnancy, followed by losing Audrey, followed by... - how many times did I pray for my answer to prayer without considering that the waiting and the loss was there for a purpose? Looking back, I don't understand all of the intricate pieces of my unfolding story, but I know that it has been marked by God's Presence and as promised, He has worked all things for good. 

During this season of Advent, we are reminded that we have much in common with the Israelites awaiting their Messiah. They were expecting a Savior, and in their expectation they focused on a Savior that would deliver them from their physical difficulties. The trials they faced on earth had burdened them so that they focused on the needs surrounding them instead of the Greater Need within them. As we await our Savior's return, it's easy to do the same. Our world today can be scary and hopeless, whether we face illness or fear senseless violence - the needs surrounding us can shift our focus from the Greater Need within us. We pray for pain to be alleviated instead of patience to be developed; we pray for protection from disaster instead of faith in all circumstances; we pray for peace and comfort in physical form without considering God has already given it in Spiritual form. And while it's good to pray for God to intervene in our circumstances, it's dangerous to do so with the expectation that we know how He should answer. Or worse, that we overlook His Saving because we thought it would look differently altogether. 

The beauty of the Christmas Story is in Immanuel - God With Us. That is the Promise that never waivers. Through test and trial, in the midst of pain and violence, as we face loss and struggle against despair, we have God With Us. As I ponder the heroes of the Christmas Story, I am convicted by their simple faith that God's Promise could be fulfilled in a weak and helpless baby. When the shepherds traveled to kneel in worship at a manger, they placed their expectations aside and found their Savior. As Mary and Joseph fled with Jesus as refugees to Egypt, they did not reject the Messiah just because He didn't rescue them from danger. They placed their faith in God With Us, and trusted in His plan to save. The beauty of the Christmas Story is that God is Always With Us. And Christmas is a good time for us to remember that God With Us is more than enough.

Hebrews 6:18-20
"We who have run for our very lives to God have every reason to grab the promised hope with both hands and never let go. It's an unbreakable spiritual lifeline, reaching past all appearances right to the very presence of God..."

A Letter to Parents of Strong Willed Children

Dear Mom (or Dad) of a Strong Willed Child,

I'm not really sure how to begin. Do I welcome you to the club? Offer you my condolences? Congratulate you on your success survival? Let me just start by saying, "I see you." And not in the creepy, judgy way that you're used to being seen. When other people see you with an out of control toddler screaming through the cereal aisle at Target, I see you holding it together, remaining calm so your child learns from your example. And when others stare in horror as your preschooler made a beeline to shove the smallest kid on the playground, I see you stepping in with a weariness that tells me you've done this a hundred times before and will do it a million times more because you are in this for the long haul. When others see you as "weak" because you look your screaming child in the eyes and see the fear - not the rebellion - and respond with compassion, I see you cultivating your child's heart instead of just controlling their behavior. When you open up and share your difficulties and the other moms size you up or shake their heads or give advice that you know works for all the other kids but somehow doesn't work for yours, I see you doubt yourself or blame yourself even though deep down you know that this child that you love fiercely just isn't like "all the other kids." I see you because I see me in you. So maybe what I should begin with is this: solidarity.

I have looked at all three of my children, at some point or another, and given them the label of "strong willed child." We recently passed through a "strong willed" phase (and I use the word "passed" as in "passed a kidney stone" not "passed by the mall") with our 2 year old. He literally lost his voice for 3 weeks because of all the screaming and crying. I remember "passing through" a similar phase with our 2nd when she refused to wear pants, and so getting dressed every day involved me sitting on her and yanking pants onto her flailing legs (Dear Leggings: you entered the fashion scene about a year too late and I will never forgive you for it). But our firstborn is the one that challenged us at every turn. There were no phases to pass through with her - she pretty much fought us for the first 6 years of her life. 6 years is not a phase, friends; it is a sentence. Like a jail sentence.

But here's the thing. I've been thinking and reading and researching this idea of a "Strong Willed Child" and out of curiosity, I asked my husband which of our children he would consider "Strong Willed" today. His answer? None of them. And to my shock and awe, when I really thought about it, I had to agree. None of our kids are perfect, and they all have days or even weeks where they plant their feet and put up their dukes and challenge us to step into the ring. But overall, they are all (at the moment) pretty pleasant and reasonable and compliant. From what I read and was told when they were young, having a Strong Willed Child was a life sentence. If I didn't conquer or control that Will, they would grow up to be delinquents. It was a battle I would fight their entire lives and I had to be tougher than they were to win. The first time I sat down to spank my firstborn (she was a toddler), she slapped me back. I spanked her again and she slapped me back again. Right then and there I knew that if I wanted to win this Fight of The Wills, I was going to have to show her that I was bigger and scarier and could hit a lot harder. So, instead of entering the ring, I chose not to fight her. I can't tell you how many well-meaning parents shook their head and prophesied doom and destruction, but I knew my daughter needed to learn how to control herself more than she needed to learn that I could control her. I knew she had plenty of battles ahead and that she needed me fighting with her not against her. Over the past decade, I've learned a lot about so called "Strong Willed Children," and while I'm no expert, I'm going to share what I've learned. You can take it or leave it - I can't guarantee results or share statistical proof that what has worked for me will work for you. But if you're in over your head with your Strong Willed Darling, hopefully my many mistakes and occasionally successes can provide you with some hope. 

1. Your child might not be Strong Willed after all.
Don't hate me yet. I'm not trying to tell you that your child isn't difficult, or that parenting him/her isn't incredibly challenging. But the Strong Willed label implies that your child is hardwired to be stubborn, even defiant. That your child fights you because they want to control you. While all of my kids have appeared to display those traits or behaviors from time to time, I can honestly look at them and say that those characteristics don't define them in the least. It's important to be aware of your child's developmental stage - our 2 year old spent 3 weeks fighting us on every front, and some would say that it was rebellion. But think of the toys you buy your toddler: most engage your little one with cause and effect. Push this and it lights up, pull that and it makes a sound. Toddlers are fascinated with this concept. So it makes sense that this fascination will play out in their behavior. They test boundaries often out of curiosity, not rebellion.  They are also testing our patience and love - they want to know if they can trust us to care for them no matter what. In our house, I often use the phrase. "when we make a bad choice, sad things happen. But even when you make a bad choice, I still love you." When we respond calmly and consistently, they eventually learn the boundaries aren't budging and they move on to their next phase. I mentioned earlier that we struggled with our oldest for several years, way past toddlerhood. Her Strong Willed behavior wasn't simply developmental, but I also knew it wasn't truly defiant. I remember looking at her, really looking at her, and seeing that she was terrified. She would get overwhelmed by her own emotions and completely lose it. All. The. Time. But the truth was that she hated it as much as I did. She was fighting herself just as hard as she was fighting me. It's important to be aware of your child's ability (or inability) to control their own emotions. I think that if I had treated her as a "Strong Willed Child," I may have eventually been able to force compliance, but I would have missed the opportunity to teach her to control herself.

2. Those Strong Willed traits have a positive side.
When my oldest daughter was little, I read a book that encouraged me to list my child's "difficult" traits and their positive opposite. I quickly made a long list of the difficult traits, but it took time and and consideration to consider how those traits were also positive. Sure, "stubborn" can also be seen as "strong leader," but what about things like aggressive? Unable to handle transitions? Was "hysterical" even a trait? But slowly I saw the way she would go after a soccer ball as a positive side of aggression. Her ability to follow a schedule as a positive side of struggling with transitions. And the way she loved deeply and empathized as the positive side to her more hysterical emotions. This simple exercise gave me permission to stop trying to manage or control or conquer my daughter's "negative" traits. Instead, I set about the work of cultivating her positive traits. Rather than stopping "bad" behavior, I started helping her develop the gifts she had been given. Discipline was now a tool to help her become who she was created to be instead of a weapon to stop her from becoming all the things I was afraid of. We taught her to control her aggression so she could fight for the things that were important. We helped her develop systems and schedules so she could better handle transitions. And we worked with her to regulate her emotions should she could truly enjoy the full range of her feelings instead of becoming overwhelmed by them.

3. You and your child might need some extra help.
Whew. This is a tough one. You've tried all the tricks and done All The Things and you and your child are still struggling. Really, truly, deeply struggling. Maybe you've had more "bad days" or weeks or months than you can count. Or maybe you've just had a couple of good ones and so you rationalize that you're paranoid and your child is just fine. Perhaps you wake up in the morning, and when you hear your child call for you, signaling the start of a day that is sure to be wearisome, your first thought is, "not again." I knew deep down for years that our oldest daughter was struggling more than she should. That her behaviors weren't typical "terrible twos," that her tantrums weren't because she was spoiled, that her emotions were out of control because she truly couldn't control them. She had terrible stomach aches and after rounds of testing and specialists they told me it was anxiety. She was 5. In a stable home where she was loved and cherished and parented by a mom and dad who had degrees in children's ministry and education. We taught parenting classes, for crying out loud. I finally did what I had been putting off for years - I called a child psychologist and set up an appointment. We saw huge improvements over the next few months. I had been so worried that she would be labeled or diagnosed or medicated, but I learned that most children's psychologists are less concerned with "why your child is the way she is" and more concerned with "what tools do they need to cope." I kicked myself for not taking her sooner. After a half a dozen sessions, we went on our way with a fresh set of skills and continued the work at home. Today I am amazed at her ability to identify and regulate her emotions. She has had so much practice, that honestly at times she copes better than her far-less-emotional sister. It didn't happen overnight, and she still has rough days (God save us from The Hormones), but when she does struggle, she knows she is capable of working through it. So if you're in doubt, please get help.

4. Be calm and consistent.
If your child is Strong Willed - whether it's a phase or a true character trait - what they need is to know that they can count on you to be the adult. The kind of adult who models the behaviors and traits that you are expecting of them. Kids scream and cry and act like children; they need to know that you can handle it all (but not tolerate it all) and not act in kind. If you storm around yelling at or shaming or striking your child in anger, you can expect your child's Strong Will to anchor itself in their tender heart. I think that sometimes parents take a Strong Willed Phase and create a Strong Willed Monster by forcing outward submission without cultivating inward regulation. Controlling your child's behavior might make your life easier, and it might make you look like an awesome parent. But if you want to disciple your child, if you want to point their heart towards Christ, your going to have to take the long view instead of the short one. You'll have to ask "What is God doing in my child's heart?" It will require you to see misbehavior as the Spirit's way of bringing your child's struggles to the surface, and then you'll have to embrace the opportunity to come alongside of Him and use discipline as a loving tool to turn those struggles into triumphs. For the record, I'm not here to tell you which tools are or aren't appropriate. I'm taking a neutral stance on spanking or time outs or whatever, because I don't know what's best for you or your child. Discipline is Biblical and it's a vital tool in raising your children. I would strongly encourage you to spend time in God's Word, learning what God says about discipline. And don't go cherry picking verses that support your parenting style of choice - look at all the verses, look at Scripture as a whole, and see what themes emerge. I can tell you that we have disciplined each of our kids differently, because they all respond differently. But with all of them, we have been most successful when we are calm and consistent.

5. You are going to fail sometimes.
If you're playing the Long Game here, you aren't always going to win. You're going to make mistakes and sometimes you're going to make big ones. Don't you dare give up and don't for a minute believe that today's fail makes you a Failure. I'm going to let you in on a secret: failures are great teaching opportunities. Our kids need to see us as calm and consistent and capable of handling whatever they throw at us. Except sometimes they need to see that we are human and we make mistakes, so they can learn how we handle mistakes. They need to see us feel sorrow for our sin, without making excuses, so they can learn that repentance changes us. They need to see us receive grace from our Savior so they can know that grace is offered to them as well. They need to see us ask for forgiveness, so they can offer forgiveness and feel how it frees us all.


Oh parents of Maybe Strong Willed children. Know that you are not alone in the trenches, and that those trenches are real and not a figment of your imagination. Trust that there is hope, that one day you'll look around that trench and see that you're not fighting as hard or as long as you used to. Know that your child is not the Enemy, but that the Enemy would love for you to think they are. Trust that the God of Angel-Armies fights with you and for you and for your child. Hold your head high when others look at you and your child in the Target aisle or the Playground - hold it high because those that judge don't know the first thing about your sweet, challenging child; hold it high because someone out there is looking at you in solidarity, finding encouragement in shared struggles; hold it high because there's an amazing kid that needs to know you are proud of who they are despite how they sometimes act.

A Change in Perspective

Toddlers are exhausting.

They're needy, they're moody, and they're demanding. Anyone who has spent any time with a toddler, let alone raised one, knows it's true. I've always joked that if babies were born acting like toddlers, no one would have more than one; fortunately, by the time our little tykes enter toddlerhood we are already fiercely attached to them. So while we may often be exasperated by their tantrums, we are just as often entranced by their sweet kisses and hilarious vocabularies. 

Which all sounds lovely, but on a tough day, life with a toddler is just exhausting.

I'm currently raising toddler #3, if you only count the toddlers that have been born into our family. I've also spent time parenting a handful of other toddlers, both as a Safe Family and Foster Mom. I consider myself an experienced toddler wrangler. And yet, I still find myself completely overwhelmed and exhausted some days by this willful little person. When my girls were toddlers, I was convinced every rough stage would stretch on forever. I'd face a particularly nasty tantrum and picture them screaming hateful words as teenagers. I'd pick up a floppy wailing body screaming "NO!" and foresee them rebelling against authority for the rest of their lives. I'd intervene when one sister would clobber the other and fret that they would grow up to hate each other. 

Dear Parents of Toddlers: they call it a phase for a reason. It doesn't last. Current behavior doesn't necessarily predict future behavior. Both of my girls were difficult toddlers - there were years that I didn't dare leave the windows open lest the neighbors overhear the screaming and crying and report what was surely the sound of a child being murdered. Neither of my girls are perfect, but today they are generally sweet, responsible, and pleasant to be around. Sure, if you sit back and drink lattes while giving your toddler everything they want, they will probably turn out poorly. But if you choose a parenting strategy, stick to it with some semblance of consistency, and ride out this storm, it will pass. The clouds will break and the sun will come shining through and you will be blessed with a lovely new phase called "preschoolerhood" (yes, that is a word. It refers to the 4-5 yr old phase). You will forget how difficult your child was as a toddler. Until their hormones kick in and you face Toddlerhood Part 2, otherwise known as having a Tween. But don't worry about that yet. 

I'm not going to tell you how to raise your toddler. I've witnessed a myriad of techniques and philosophies that work for different parents and different children. Every child is unique, every parent comes with their own sets of skills and strengths and I think you have to find what works for you and your child. We all know it's important to set limits and enforce them but let's be honest - some days being the Enforcer of Limits is a drag. Some days it really sucks to be the person who rains on the parade and takes away the privileges and sets diapered bottoms in time outs. I was having one of those days last week. My toddler was in rare form and no progress was being made and I was spending all of my time playing Mean Mom. He was crabby, I was crabby, and the crabbiness was getting to us all. 

So as soon as he was having a pleasant (or not horrific) moment, I seized it. I scooped that little stinker sweetie up and took him and his sisters out to play. 

Z pretended to read while his sisters practiced their spelling words as they tossed the soccer ball.

The girls found some worms. Z of course wanted to play with them.

We blew the fuzzy seeds off of dandelions.

I kid you not, this child who had cried all morning, giggled for several minutes, while hugging my neck and yelling "poo-poos!" Boys.

Things were going so well we stayed out for lunch. And recess. 

Which is when the girls taught Z their love of Taylor Swift and how to nae-nae-whip (Which they had learned from T, our little visitor through Safe Families)

Here's the thing: sometimes we find ourselves in the middle of a horrible day. Or a string of horrible days. And we begin to resent the tiny tyrants that are turning us into grumpy enforcers. Sometimes, we just need to roll up our sleeves and get to the work of parenting because it's what our child needs. But other times, we may just need to break up the monotony and have some fun. I forget this far too often - as a homeschool mom who is also raising a toddler while growing a tiny human inside my body, I get caught up in the rhythm and routine of our busy life.  But on this day, I seized an opportune moment and found myself loving the same life that I was overwhelmed by an hour earlier. 

I took these photos because I wanted to look back and remind myself of this day. The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day that became Lovely. And wouldn't you know it, a week later I took a peek in my screaming toddler's mouth and I realized this current phase is being brought to you by the 2 year old molars. Poor kid is in pain, not a future juvenile delinquent. 

Dear Parents of Toddlers: Your hard work will pay off. Remember that as hard as you are working, your toddler is working hard, too (and not just against you). So keep at it, but don't forget to take breaks. Play outside. Cuddle and read books. Make a special snack, or a blanket fort, or a craft. Watch a movie (gasp!) Whatever it takes to relax and enjoy each other's company. 

Dear Parents of Not-Toddlers: The same applies to you. Every phase has its difficulties, and children of all ages can be challenging to parent. I think it's important to take time with each of our children to just enjoy being together. Our older kids need to know that they are adored and cherished just as much as our little ones do. 

We stayed outside for hours that day, me sitting in the shade watching my kids dig and dance and dandelion hunt. And then that oh so difficult but adorable little toddler came up to me and offered me a "President" (which is what he calls a present):

Flowers picked for his mama. Because despite the testing and the tantrums and the attempted tyranny, he is truly a sweet little boy after all. It just took a change of scenery to change my perspective. 

You're So Vain

Note: I wrote this almost two weeks ago, and considering the dramatic couple of weeks that followed, this post seems a bit trivial. But not every learning moment occurs in the midst of chaos (thank God!) In some ways, I think this exercise in faith was exactly what I needed to prepare for what we were going to walk through in the days that followed. 

Fasting for Lent wasn't a part of my spiritual upbringing. I fasted for Lent for the first time when I was in high school. My super mature fast: to give up all hopes of having a boyfriend. The sacrifice was deep. The week we came back from Easter break, a boy asked me out. At which point, fasting for Lent became a bit of a lucky charm - "if I fast from it, it will come." Dear High School Me: you are such a nerd.

Fast forward a few years couple of decades, and I'm all grown up and wondering how Lent fits into my spiritual journey. I'm not big on rituals or legalism, but as our family has incorporated Advent into our Christmas traditions, I've found the season to be more meaningful. Along with this consideration of Lent, I've also had a growing sense of unrest with all of the "stuff" in my life and the stress it causes. A few weeks ago, I was counting my "to do" list instead of sheep every night and then waking up in the middle of the night worrying about ridiculous things like socks (which my kids needed for their musical) and whether or not they should sign up for softball or voice lessons. I was fighting with the girls over what clothes they should wear ("you picked out this shirt and I bought it and you haven't worn it in weeks!"), and simultaneously buying them more clothes. I was in between jobs and not making money, and despite closets full of clothes and calendars full of activities, I was looking for opportunities to make more money just to spend more on stuff we didn't need. Because the truth is, when you look around you, you will always see the people who have more, and you will feel the urge to keep up. I'm having conversations with moms who are taxiing their kids to this activity and that, and their children seem so wonderful and enriched and it's hard to be the lame mom who just says no. #firstworldproblems #timeforareailtycheck

Enter 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess by Jen Hatmaker. Friends, I have been avoiding this book for a couple of years, afraid it would guilt me into giving up all the stuff that I love. I work hard for this American Dream, people! But I picked it up, tired and frazzled with all my stuff and what I found instead of guilt was relief. 7 is a fast of sorts, a giving up of the stuff that weighs us down so we are free to view this life as God planned it for us. The verse that comes to mind is Hebrews 12:1-2a "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith..." A few months ago I was training for a 5k, and it was a struggle. I had trained for a 5k a few months earlier, and while I finished the race, I can't say that I enjoyed it. During my last few weeks of training, I tried out a new eating/exercise plan (21 Day Fix) and lost 10 pounds before the race. Those 10 pounds made all the difference. Dropping that extra weight, "throwing off everything that hinders," gave me the perseverance to run the race and actually enjoy running. That extra weight was the difference between enduring and enjoying. Sometimes the stuff in our life is weighing us down so much that we are enduring our life instead of enjoying it. Or maybe it's just me.

I finished 7 and received the workbook a few days before Lent and it seemed like perfect timing. The workbook walks you through one fast a week (Jen Hatmaker did each fast for a month. I can't even.), and I figured I could do anything for one week. Week 1 was food - but I feel like I've just got the hang of this healthy eating thing and I'm in a really good place with how I view food and nutrition. So for now I skipped that fast. The next week was clothes - as in pick seven items of clothing and wear only those seven items for a week. Easy peasy, I told myself. I have also prided myself in my lack of vanity (I know, the irony). I can't even believe I am typing this, but on my checklist of things that make me, um, not vain is the fact that I rarely wear mascara. Women (maybe it's magazines or Pinterest articles) are always saying that if they have to dash out of the house, they just swipe on some lip gloss and mascara. Boom. I don't need mascara. 

Most weeks I stay home, and most days I work out, so my fashion consists of yoga pants and a hoodie (again, not vain. I will happily leave the house like this as well). A "nice" outfit for church plus my yoga pant/hoodie combo and I'm good. Of course the week I was doing my "7" clothing fast, my schedule ramped up and looked like this:
- stay at home mom days (whew. covered!)
- parent teacher conferences 
- taking my girls and some friends ice skating (totally yoga pant friendly)
- children's ministry conference
- church
- cast party (for the girls, but families were invited)
That's FOUR events that are not yoga-pant friendly. And yes, some of them occurred on the same day but there were still 3 different days where I had to dress like a grown up. Add in the fact that I've lost 20 pounds and haven't been shopping, so most of my pants are starting to look ridiculous and THE STRUGGLE IS REAL! 

So I cheated

But we won't call it cheating

In the name of modesty, I didn't count things like tank tops that covered my gaping waistband or a scarf that hid a low cut (it's too big! don't judge!) top. In the name of accommodating my vertical challenges, I picked 2 pairs of boots (one with a heal, one without, because I couldn't find two pants of equal length that also sort of fit) as well as tennis shoes, which I have to wear while exercising. I also didn't count shoes in the 7 items because I was so stressed out trying to pick out my 7 items for the week that I felt it was defeating the purpose. I'm sure Jen would agree. Or maybe tell me to get over myself. 

Because I felt guilty at going over my 7 items, I decided in the spirit of "fasting from vanity" (which I was starting to see might be a problem after all) I would take the fast into my makeup bag/hair care. So I pared down to 7 makeup items for the week (no mascara. obviously) and swore off the use of my blow dryer (which I rarely use. Because I'm not vain) and curling iron (which I apparently depend on more than I thought). At which point, I immediately made a hair appointment, because without heated styling tools, my split ends were no longer hidden and under control and instead started their own mutiny. You guys, I came home from the salon with FUSCHIA HAIR! Curse you, vanity! (update: the fuschia faded to magenta and is now closer to the reddish brown I was hoping for. Thank God for grace - I so deserved fuschia hair)

Here is what I learned from my 7 Clothing Fast:

I am incredibly vain

My reactions throughout the week ranged from pouting that I couldn't wear this outfit or that shirt, to standing in front of the mirror wishing I could buy new pants, to resorting to extreme tactics to try and improve my outfits without "cheating" (while simultaneously considering cheating). To be clear, I wasn't losing sleep or spending large amounts of time doing these things. But in a "fast" you become acutely aware of the little ways you think about obsess over the thing you are fasting from. On a normal week, I wouldn't give my "vanity" a second thought - obviously, I considered myself "not vain." Now I see how those seconds add up, how those thoughts clutter my mind, how the stress of finding the right outfit or hiding the split ends can be a distraction. The little girl living at my house right now came with the clothes on her back (or the pjs, to be completely honest). What is she stressed about? She wants her mommy, her family, her home. I have all of those things every day and I take them for granted. Fasting, seeing my vanity for what it is, helps me to appreciate what's important.

My girls did the fast as well, and they struggled far less than I did. In fact, they were pretty excited about it. Sofi told me that she was "hoping the fast would help her discover what it's like to live like people without clothes and a home, or people who are homeless.  When you go through something that's hard, God teaches you a lesson through that, and He wouldn't have been able to teach you that lesson if you didn't have that hard thing in your life." Here's what she said she learned:

- it was hard for me, but someone who is homeless would be thankful instead of disliking what they already have

- to be happy with what I have instead of nothing

- before, it was hard to pick out clothes in the morning because I had so many things and it was overwhelming; now since I have 7 pieces of clothing I only had to pick from 3 outfits and it was a lot easier

(Bonus: I didn't spend any time arguing with them about what they wore, if it matched or was appropriate or had just been worn yesterday. I was really surprised at how much stress this alleviated)

So here's the take away (because realizing I'm vain doesn't change anything) - I need to find ways to enjoy the clothes I have and wear them in a way that expresses who I am without letting them become an obsession or source of stress.  One thing I noticed as I was trying to pick out some outfits, is that most of my clothes only go with one thing. I tend to buy random pieces and so I have a closet full of mismatched items, most of which I don't want to wear. I'm going to have to buy some new clothes (since the current ones don't fit), and I will be more mindful of clothes that are truly useful vs clothes that I just want (or find on sale, or buy off the rack because I'm too lazy to try them on). I think if I had a smaller wardrobe full of items that a) fit me and b) easily incorporated into outfits, I'd be less stressed and far less wasteful. When it comes to my girls, I will definitely be buying them less clothes. They are happier with a handful of outfits they love and wear over and over again than they are with a closet that I keep stuffing full of clothes they don't need. I can't tell you how many times I've come home after looking for something I need, like jeans or heaven forbid a swimsuit, and to alleviate my frustration at having NO LUCK, I pick up something cute for the kids. Because it's easier. Because they'll look cute even if I don't. Because I set out to buy something and for the love I will make it happen. Can I make an honest confession? Sometimes I treat my kids like a cute fashion accessory - something to make me look more put together. Again with the vanity. 

So there's week one. Whew! Bring on Week 2! 
(Note: I had no idea that Week 2 would be completely trainwrecked with ER visits and sickness and more stuff I cannot even get into.  Stay tuned...)

Why We Run

Dear Isabel and Sofi,
It's been almost a year since I started running.  3 times a week for the past nine months I've literally hit the ground running, and there's so much that I've learned, so much that I want to share with you.  When I started lacing up my shoes last March, I noticed you.  Watching, studying, eyes on me.  I'd head out the front door, and sometimes you'd ask to come with me, and other times when the wind blew cold and my legs ached, you'd ask: "Why do you run, Mom?"  I had a lot of time to think about my answer, as my weary feet tread miles stretched over days and weeks and months.  I thought about why I run and this is what I learned:

I was 29 the first time I ran a mile.  For nearly three decades, I believed that I couldn't last the 5,280 feet from point A to point B, and I was too embarrassed to try and fail.  And then one day, I put in my headphones and slipped on my running shoes and just did it.  Ran a mile, without stopping.  And that feeling, at the end, of pushing through your own self-doubt and doing something you'd never done...this is why I run.  After your brother was born, my body felt the impact of carrying and sustaining life - there is nothing more amazing than this feeling, but at the end of it all, your body just feels drained.  And then we lost Audrey and while I clung to God who was gracious and good, my soul just felt drained.  I needed to feel strong again, and strength often comes from pushing yourself to do something you never thought you could do.  This gift of strength found in pushing the limits, this is why I run.  As winter dragged well into spring, my feet pounded the pavement, and the feeling of sunshine on my face and cold air pushing in and out of my lungs pushed me forward.  I set a goal of running a 5k, which some people can do without training, but I knew that this goal would take work and even though it was a little scary, I was determined to see it through.  I began to see my body as a gift - instead of judging its flaws in the mirror, I appreciated its ability to hit a wall and then push right through.  While I started with the hopes that my body would change, I found that the greater joy was in my perspective changing.  This is why I run.  And I began to recognize that like all gifts God entrusts to us, my body is something that I am meant to steward - to care for and strengthen and use.  Stronger arms can better carry your baby brother, stronger legs can better chase after you, greater endurance can better sustain me through long days of parenting and working and yes, running.  So to build stronger arms and legs and endurance, this is why I run.  Running gave me a greater appreciation for the words in Hebrews 12:1, "Therefore since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out before us."  Perseverance found on a quiet road will carry over to perseverance needed in a troubled soul, and this is why I run.  

Sometimes you would ask to join me, and I'd bring you along and this thing of running together, planted an idea in the back of my mind.  You kept watching and I kept running and I made my goal and ran that 5k, with your sweet faces cheering me on.  You watching me - making goals, facing obstacles, overcoming obstacles, meeting goals, this is why I run.

Then came fall, and I had thought about this thing of you watching me, and sometimes running alongside of me and asking me why I run.  And instead of telling you, I wanted to show you.  So this time it was your turn to lace up your running shoes and pound the pavement - not alone, but together, all of us, a team of would-be runners.  In the beginning, it was easy.  Voices chattering, giggling, carried on an Indian Summer breeze.  Three times a week we started running together, enjoying each others' company, and my heart, joy-filled, thought this is why we run.  As we starting running farther and longer, it got harder and some days you struggled.  There were days that the tears fell as your feet dragged, but you pushed through and felt stronger at the end, and this is why we run.  There were other days that you cheered each other on, sisters, teammates, side by side.  One would fall behind and the other would fall back, with quiet words of encouragement.  "I think this running thing is bringing us along in our relationship," you told me.  And yes, this is why we run.  Sometimes your dad and I pushed you forward... "pick up the pace...you can do this... you're lighter than air!"  Sometimes your brother joined in, cozy in his stroller yelling, "Go, Bel-bel, go!  Run!!!"  He loved to watch you run.  And sometimes it was you, running and skipping, fingers brushing the fall leaves turning in the trees, cheerful voice singing with joy; yes, sometimes it was YOU that kept ME going.  This is why we run, to know that we are a team always and forever, cheering each other on, encouraging each other when we struggle, leading by example.

You're both growing up so fast, and where little girls once saw legs for twirling and bellies for tickling, I see you now, watching yourself in the mirror, measuring yourself up to unrealistic expectations you can't possible attain.  From billboards to commercials, you face a message that you aren't good enough the way you are.  You're already asking if you're too fat or too skinny, and I hate those words because they will haunt your spirit and steal your joy and swallow your confidence whole.  But when you run, skinny or fat won't help you, but STRONG will carry you past the point you thought you could not reach.  And you, YOU are strong, and you are only growing stronger, and as you run, you KNOW this to be true.  You feel it in aching muscles and deep breaths of fresh air and I hope that deep down in the depths of you, you know that this is why we run.  

You both worked so hard, training together, running together, growing together.  I hope you learned lessons great and deep from this experience, but know that I learned as much from you.  We spent 10 weeks together, 3 times a week, running towards a goal you often thought you could not reach.  There were days that I doubted, days I wondered if this was too hard for you, for all of us.  But you proved how strong you are, over and over again.  I was so looking forward to running our race together.  We had a great plan - you'd drive with your grandparents to Oklahoma City, where we'd run our race with aunts and uncles and grandparents together.  We'd fly with your brother (because no one in their right mind would drive that far with a toddler), and we'd all meet up two nights before the race.  Plenty of time to rest up before our run.  And then we got sick.  Fevers and stuffy noses and coughs that rattled in our chests.  And then our flight got cancelled.  There you were, 800 miles away, and instead of worrying you told me, "I knew you'd come up with a plan".  So we got in our car and started driving to you.  We finally reached our hotel at midnight, more than 30 hours after we left our house for the airport.  6 hours before we had to get up and head for the race.  And let me tell you, I had crafted so 

many excuses - good excuses, valid excuses - for why I would not run that race in the morning.  "We can run some and walk some," I told myself.  But then I thought of you, and all those days of training in the sun and the wind and the rain and even the snow.  You kept going and you finished well and now it was my turn.  So we laced up our running shoes one more time TOGETHER.  And we ran that race TOGETHER.  And when we wanted to quit we kept going until that finish line was in our sights.  Hearts pounding in our chests and feet pounding the pavement, you asked, "can we hold hands when we cross the finish line?"  So finish line just feet away, we grabbed hands and as we finished, that look of triumph, of confidence gained over miles, through teamwork and hard work, that is why we ran.

Maybe someday you'll run a marathon.  Maybe you'll trade your running shoes in for dancing shoes or cleats or skis.  But whether you choose to keep running or never run again, you'll always have that experience of running the race and receiving the prize.  You'll always know the joy found in setting a goal, training for that goal, and then reaching that goal.  You'll always remember the feeling of appreciating your body for the gift that it was created to be - muscles and joints and bones working together to carry you across a finish line.  You'll always carry with you the memory of our crazy family, working with each other and FOR each other, through good times and bad.  That is why we ran.  

Pass It On: Serving Together

These two have been serving me breakfast in bed since they were little.
It is usually as inedible as it is adorable.

As I write this, I am considering taking a Safe Families placement.  Well, truth be told, I already know what my answer will be, I'm just having a hard time dialing the number and saying, "yes."  Because here's what I know: there is a huge cost to serving others.  Whether it's serving at church as a nursery volunteer or community group leader; or serving in the community with at-risk youth or people with special needs; or serving at home as I do household tasks or bathe a baby or help with homework.  Serving others costs me, and I don't always see a tangible return on my investment.  Serving drains my energy, messes up my schedule, and sometimes it even empties my wallet.  Right now, I am running on reserves and I don't have what it takes to step up and serve.  I have my own kids and my own problems and my own stuff to get done.

Which is why now is the perfect time to serve.  Now, when I am unable to do this in my own strength, when I must rely completely on God, when I am asked to step out in faith.  And I say yes, knowing that God will strengthen and supply and direct.  I have learned that when I step out in faith, God works in bigger ways than I could imagine.

My experience with serving as a family started as a child.  I didn't grow up as a PK (pastor's kid) per se, but I grew up with my dad as our church's worship leader.  Not just A worship leader but THE ONLY worship leader.  So week after week, my dad ran worship practices and led worship twice on Sunday and spent hours listening to worship music and coordinating volunteers.  He had this awesome briefcase full of Integrity music tapes all neatly organized.  Super cool, I know. By the time I was in middle school, I couldn't wait to join the youth worship team, followed by the adult worship team where I volunteered with my dad and brother and a super cute boy who would grow up and marry me (not necessarily in that order).  Then that super cute boy became a pastor and voila!  My whole life revolved around church ministry.  Confession of a former pastor's

Packing food together at a Feed My Starving Children
event was one of my favorite serving opportunities.
When we were finished, the girls drew pictures and wrote
Bible verses all over the boxes.  Oh my heart.  

wife: ministry is highly inconvenient.  Being a pastor is a lifestyle.  When you're not actually serving, you're thinking about serving or recovering from serving or talking about serving.  It's exhausting... and incredibly fulfilling.  I wouldn't trade our years in ministry for the world, and my girls would tell you the same thing.  They are still mourning the loss of their identity as PKs.  Bless them.  The amazing thing about being a pastor's family is that your whole family serves together.  You have to be all in.  And being all in all together as a family is a great way to pass on your faith.  Because you can talk about spiritual things and read about spiritual things but it is in DOING spiritual things alongside of each other that the baton is truly passed.  Your children cannot take their faith and run with it if you are not already running, alongside of them, putting that faith to work.  

If you flip through the pages of the four Gospels, you will see story after story about serving.  Jesus feeds the 5,000, Jesus heals this person and preaches to that multitude, Jesus calms the storm, washes feet, sacrifices His life.  He gathers the 12, and then sets out to model servanthood, and doesn't stop until It. Is. Finished.  There is a moment in the Gospels, which follows a moment of bickering amongst the disciples, when Jesus turns to those 12 followers and tells them in Matthew 20:26-28, "...whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave - just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." Jesus did not serve out of convenience and He did not serve in isolation.  Jesus served always and in all things and He did it alongside of 12 bumbling followers who were watching and learning, their faith mustard-seed small growing into something that would fling the Gospel across the 4 corners of the earth.  Sounds a lot like parenting to me.

When we serve, we are simply being good stewards of the gifts that God has given us.  There are times that we look around at our many blessings and realize that we could be better stewards and share those blessings with others.  This is what happened several years ago when we were hit with the realization that our home, our support system of friends and family, and our pantry stocked with food were not OURS but God's, and out of our abundance we felt called to share these blessings with children in crisis - and so began our journey as a Safe Family.  There are other times when, after taking a hard look at what we have been blessed with and how we are sharing those blessings, we realize that we have been stewarding those blessings in ways we haven't even thought about.  I don't think twice about a dinner shared with friends, a meal cooked for a family with a new baby, a play date hosted or a box of outgrown clothes passed on.  These simple acts of service may seem trivial, but they are great opportunities to pause and cultivate a heart of servanthood in our children.  By inviting our children to help in the cleaning or cooking or preparing, and having a casual conversation about how and why we serve, we turn a simple act of service into a faith-building, family serving opportunity.  We have this wall in our house, that we refer to as our "What Needs To Be Done" wall.  It lists the things that need to be done on a board in the middle, and then each family member (Zion excluded) has a board where they choose tasks that need to be done and place them on their board (under "will do") as acts of service that they will complete (then they move it under "done").  It's a chore chart, people.  Except it's not - it's a way of seeing the mundane tasks as opportunities to serve each other.  And it cultivates a heart of serving in each of us.  These are not "Mom's chores" that "everyone else" is being forced to help with.  These are ways we can serve each and every member of our household, and everyone else we welcome through our doors.  

We often (the girls would tell you CONSTANTLY) ask the question:
What Needs to Be Done?

Serving alongside of your children, in ways big and small, is an essential way to pass on your faith.  When you serve together in ways that are far beyond your abilities, you will see God come through in ways that are far beyond your imagination.  And when you start to look for and at simple tasks as acts of service, you have the opportunity to build faith as you pass it on to your children.

Challenges for this week:
1. Take a look at your resources - from your material blessings like your house or your groceries, to your spiritual gifts like your ability to teach or encourage - and ask God to show you how you can better steward what He has given you.
2. Be intentional in the way you include your children in day-to-day acts of service - give them ways to serve alongside of you and have casual, faith building conversations about those opportunities.
3. If you are not currently involved in serving others as a family, look for one thing your family can do in the next few weeks.  Pack a shoebox for Operation Christmas Child, buy a few extra groceries and drop them off at your local food pantry, bake cookies for someone who could use some encouragement.  And make a plan to serve together regularly.  

Update: by the time I finished this post, I agreed to host a little girl from Safe Families.  A few days later, they called to say they had found another home for her where she could stay with her sister.  As we talked about it together and with the girls, Matt and I had this strong sense that God was simply asking for our obedience.  For whatever reason, God in His Sovereignty knew that this was not the right time or opportunity.  God promises that He will not give us more than we can handle, and we can trust that as we seek to serve, He will always provide what we need.  So while yes, sometimes the cost is great, when we serve out of obedience, we can trust that God our Provider will pick up the tab.