Grace, Gratitude, and Joy

Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy.
~James 1:2 NLT

Studying the book of James has been... convicting. To say the least. Then I started reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. I'm getting the impression that I'm in need of a dramatic attitude adjustment! My experience at the zoo on Friday confirmed this for me. Friday was the day of the grand opening for the new penguin exhibit. When we arrived, we were greeted by an impenetrable wall of people. We were told by zoo staff that we'd have to wait, unable to view any of the exhibits, until the grand opening ceremony was finished. A wait of a few minutes, maybe half an hour, no one knew for sure. I was instantly annoyed. I was frustrated that they hadn't figured out a way to let people get past who simply wanted to see the rest of the zoo. I was also disappointed that I was being delayed in meeting up with my friend - a total waste of prime "just got to the zoo and the kids are still calm" visiting time. I let the zoo person know I wasn't impressed. I wasn't overly rude, I simply communicated my displeasure. (I think I said something like, "Well, that's a hassle," and walked away in a huff.) But was my negativity necessary? Did I really need to turn a minor inconvenience into a reason to be grumpy with someone who was simply doing her job? How could I have changed my attitude?

Reading One Thousand Gifts has challenged me to re-think everyday annoyances and frustrations. Turn them into a gift, a thing of beauty, something for which to be grateful. As James says, consider it joy. I'm thinking this isn't going to be an overnight transformation. It might be a bit more difficult than putting on rose-coloured glasses and deciding not to let my circumstances affect my attitude. This is starting to remind me of my post on patience - it sounds like a whole lot of work. But, if intentional gratitude is the path to joy-filled living, then it would be worth the work. So here's my attempt to turn some of my recent frustrations into opportunities for gratitude and joy.

1. Logan moments - My tactile/kinesthetic learner provides plenty of practice in turning frustration into joy. My initial response upon seeing rice krispies (or water, or dog food, or playdough, or toilet paper, or stuffing from the couch) scattered randomly is instant irritation. My response to situations like this is super important, though - I do not want my son growing up thinking there's something wrong with him. That his desire to experience life with all 5 senses all the time is something of which to be ashamed. So, as James instructs, I consider... My beautiful boy is a glorious reflection of a creative God. He learns through touching and moving. I give thanks for his curiosity, his mischief, his creativity. He is a good gift. (I am also grateful for the patience and humility that are being birthed in me as a result of being his mom!!)

2. Bedrooms converted to swimming pools - Again, frustration is the easy default. It's messy, potentially dangerous, and creates extra work at bedtime. But when I stop and consider... They're being creative, they're co-operating, they're taking turns and having fun together. They're getting exercise. There is much beauty in the middle of this mess. And in a little more than 6 months, my oldest starts kindergarten. Scenes like this will start to become more rare. I will miss our long days at home with no agenda, the endless adventures 3 siblings can dream up. I am grateful for this mess!

3. Kids waiting for Dad to come home at the end of a long day. A Saturday, in fact, and he's working much later than I had expected. Anger is my default reaction. But this does no good - I do not want him arriving home to a grumpy wife. I stop and consider all the gifts in this situation for which I can be grateful. He has a job, one he loves, one that challenges him and gives him opportunities to use his gifts and abilities. He is a strong, loving, good man who works hard to provide for us. And no matter how long or tiring or stressful his day was, he always greets me with a smile and a kiss and an "I love you." Always. I am grateful.

Thinking back to my day at the zoo, I had so much to be thankful for - a warm, sunny day in February to marvel at God's creativity in the animal kingdom. A good friend to spend time with. No diapers or strollers to haul around! And I was cranky because I had to wait for 20 minutes longer than I was expecting... I ignored all the goodness, and focused on the one negative. I need an optometrist for my soul.

As I've started practicing gratitude more intentionally, I've noticed that anger, frustration, and resentment evaporate in the presence of thankfulness. As I focus on those things in any given moment that are good and beautiful, I am less at the mercy of more hurtful and counter-productive reactions. It's all about my focus, training my eyes to see the beauty and the gifts. I have also found myself operating less in survival mode - as I embrace the discipline of seeing God's goodness in all of my moments, I find my days more enjoyable. I am not wishing away this time and constantly looking ahead to future stages of life as somehow holding the key to joy. The joy is here and now, because God's goodness is everywhere!

It's hard work though, and not all moments are as easy to find the good in as my examples. I am trusting God that as I practice with the little things, the mundane and everyday things, that the eyes of my soul will be wide open when much harder things come. That I will be able to find joy in the middle of true hardship. That's a goal worth working towards.

Learning from Emmanuel, and "being with"

I was 15 years old, and I desperately wanted to see Robocop. Well, I thought I wanted to see it. I'd been invited by my mom's youngest 2 siblings, who were actually more like my big brother and big sister than uncle and aunt. I think I mostly wanted to hang out with them, and I felt quite flattered that they would include me. To my utter devastation (I was 15, remember), my parents decided that I couldn't go. With the benefit of maturity and hindsight, this was the right decision. That movie would have been way too violent for me. I did not have the benefit of maturity or hindsight back then, so I threw myself a lavish pity party in my bedroom! In the middle of the melodrama, my dad knocked on the door. He had come down to say he was sorry. He hadn't changed his mind - they still thought it was best that I didn't go - but he was sorry that I was taking it so hard. I remember seeing a look in his eyes. A look that said, "I'm hurting because you're hurting." And it kinda took the wind out of my sails. I was still sad, but I wasn't really mad at my parents anymore.

This ability - to see, think and feel from another's perspective - can be difficult to practice as a parent. I often find myself so focused on what my kids should be doing that I neglect to consider why they're doing what they're doing. Picture this: a small for his age 4-year-old boy is scream-crying in a van, doing everything he can to avoid getting into his car seat. He even runs to the back of the van and starts pounding on the rear window with his little fists. His parents try a series of tactics to persuade him into his seat - he resists them all. (If only this was hypothetical!) Before I had kids, I would have raised my eyebrows at this scenario. Wondered why the parents were letting this little hooligan get away with such antics. What I wouldn't have known is that the boy in distress had just said goodbye to his aunt and uncle, and he was quite upset about it. It may have reminded him of how much he was already missing his grandparents.  Maybe he thought he should have given one more hug or blown one more kiss, and the adults hadn't paid enough attention to his needs.

In moments like this, when I'm feeling frustrated and impatient and completely out of ideas, I need to remember what it's like to feel really sad and out of control of my circumstances. I need to dig deep for a little empathy, look at the situation through my child's eyes and ask myself, "If I was him, what would it take to calm me down?" Looking back, I suspect that waiting a few minutes until he was ready to be consoled and acknowledging his sadness and frustration would have helped. Again, hindsight... Why am I always in such a rush? Why do I feel like I have to prove something by insisting on immediate compliance with my wishes? Sigh... If I want my kids to develop empathy for others, I need to model it for them. I need to acknowledge their emotional reality even if I can't give them what they want in that moment. Often, that means slowing down long enough to look in their eyes and let them know that I'm with them. That if they're hurting, I'm hurting. That I don't want to ride rough-shod over their hearts just because I'm on some schedule.

This idea of "being with" is modelled so perfectly by Jesus. I am overwhelmed when I think about God becoming one of us. He came to be with us - to feel what we feel, to see, hear, taste, smell and touch life with us. "He had equal status with God but didn't think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human!" (Philippians 2:6,7 MSG) To follow His example means that I must ever strive to be with; to understand, as deeply as possible, where my kids are coming from. I must learn to put aside my pride and my parental ego and stop clinging to my preferences. It's not all about me.

They say learning isn't so much what's taught, as what's caught. Let's hope my kids catch this one.

Compassion?!

I feel like I'm losing it. Not my sanity, although some moments I think that's probably gone, too! No, I'm talking about my compassion. I've found myself easily frustrated and irritable with the kids the last little while, and I've been wondering where my compassion has gone. When I force myself to stop and think about the losses our kids have experienced, it's easy to feel compassionate; they've all experienced the loss of the woman who bore them - her warmth, her voice, her being. In addition to that, the boys endured the loss of their foster family. Although they were too young to have conscious memory of it, they lost a mom and a dad, and two awesome big brothers. Kolbie came to us after he had already securely attached to his foster family... not an insignificant transition. This is a lot of emotional upheaval for a growing brain to process - so it's really no wonder that we're dealing with a few things that seem to be related to these early losses.

So why am I losing it?? It seems I suffer from a sort of amnesia when it comes to this stuff. It's easy to remember all the reasons my kids have for feeling sad and fearful and out of control when I'm talking to other adults, or when they're all sleeping and looking like perfect little angels. But put me in a room with them when I'm over-tired, dealing with a migraine, and wishing I had an extra pair of hands to clean up the most recent mess while keeping one of them at arms' length from the other, and I'm just annoyed. Frustrated, even. Okay, I'm angry. Compassion?! Forget it. We just had this discussion last week/yesterday/five minutes ago. It is NEVER okay to whack somebody in the head with a hard toy because they didn't get out of the way fast enough. Never. At these moments it takes every ounce of self-control I have (and sometimes I don't have enough) to not turn in to a 3-year-old and vent my frustration in a decidedly child-like manner. I've written before about how hard it is to show love when they're misbehaving, and I'm discovering it's a theme I need to re-visit.

So, what does love look like when I'm dealing with my kids' misbehaviour? I believe it looks self-controlled and respectful. I'm pretty sure I should try to do what I'm asking them to do - express my feelings and make my point in a way that doesn't hurt or coerce anyone. I know I have to remember where they've come from, and that they may be reacting to my voice and body language with fear and anxiety. "Love is patient and kind... It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged." (1 Corinthians 13:4,5) Darn. I do impatient and irritable so well.

So, how am I going to remember all this the next time I feel like stomping my feet and indulging in a little temper tantrum?! Practice, practice, practice. Remember the re-do? Turns out it's not just for kids. And I'm hoping that the more I practice, the better we all get.

"Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance."
1 Corinthians 13:7

A little creativity goes a long way...

Eating supper as a family has not always been the most peaceful time of day in our home. You know that "Whack-a-Mole" game? The one where little mole heads keep popping up and you have to try and thump as many of them with a club as you can? That's kind of what our supper table has been like in the past - minus the head-thumping, of course. As soon as everyone would finally be seated, and Brian and I were attempting to enjoy our meals, a little body would come popping up out of its seat and start running across the house on some crazy mission. This kind of thing is contagious, of course, so before long there would be three little bodies running around, giggling hysterically. Brian and I tried a little bit of everything. We started off with a playful approach, using reverse psychology -
"Don't eat your supper!"
"You won't like this, it's disgusting!"
"Mmmm, I hope ______ doesn't want his/her food because I want to eat it..."

When we didn't see results we quickly moved on to more desperate tactics: bribes and threats -
"If you take 3 bites then you can have_______!"
"If you don't eat your supper then you'll have to eat it for snack before bed."
"Nobody gets to play with toys until they eat their supper!"
But this didn't get us very far either, and left a bad aftertaste that the most delicious meal couldn't take away.

I even tried following them around the house with their food, abandoning all efforts to keep them seated at the table. I figured my main goal was feeding them, so did it really matter where they were eating?! This led to a slight difference of opinion with my husband, who was feeling more than a little frustrated by how things were going and was starting to wonder if we'd ever be able to take our kids out in public again.

I remember one night in particular. None of the kids had napped, so I knew that they would be especially wiggly at supper. I made spaghetti and meat sauce, one of our favourites, with the hope that full tummies would increase our chances of a good night's sleep. As we sat down and said grace, things didn't look good. One of the boys fell off his chair while we were praying, so the giggling started before anyone had even taken a bite. In a moment of desperation/inspiration I said, "Hey, I'm going to tell a story while we're eating!" Encouraged by the fact that all three of them were sitting still in their chairs and looking at me expectantly, I ignored Brian's rolling eyes and continued. "One day, three kids named Kolbie, Logan and Rylie went to their Grandma and Grandpa's house..." Every few sentences I'd stop and say, "Okay, let's all take a bite!" Completely distracted from their usual disruptive urges, they kept shovelling food in their mouths as I told the riveting tale of how they got to ride their bikes at my parents' house today. Then, to my utter astonishment, my wiggliest child looked up from his nearly empty bowl and said, "Thank-you-for-the-supper-I-please-leave-the-table?" He sat in his chair, ate his supper, AND remembered his manners. Victory!

I stumbled upon something very valuable that night - while I was telling the story, we were connecting. They kept chiming in and adding little details about our day. We got to laugh together about all the goofy things that happened. We took the focus off whether or not they were eating, and the eating happened. A few years have passed since that night, but we still use stories to help keep us all at the table at suppertime. We don't need it every night, and I'm not energetic enough to make up stories, but many evenings will still find me with a fork in one hand and a book in the other. And I love it!

What are some strategies you've found successful in your attempts to have a somewhat peaceful family meal?

Emmanuel

Emmanuel. The name for Jesus meaning "God with us." The perfect name to contemplate on Christmas Eve...

As a young woman, I felt alone. Misunderstood. Under-appreciated. I felt like no one really got me. I made some poor choices in a desperate attempt to find someone who would see my value, know me deeply, and love me fully.

I looked right past God.
               The God who sees me (Genesis 16:13).
                              The God who knows me (Psalm 139:1-18).
                                              The God who loves me (Isaiah 54:10).

The God who took on human form, who was born as a baby over 2000 years ago so He could experience our humanity and be fully with us.

Experiencing Emmanuel has changed my life. God is with me - I am never alone. I am fully known and fully loved.

Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel, which means 'God is with us.'                       Matthew 1:23

The miracle of Christmas: the same God who was born as a baby in a stable long ago has been born in my heart and I will never be the same. Hallelujah! The King is here!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4I6-9HFyYE&feature=player_embedded (just one of my very favourite Christmas songs!)

A Re-do in the Real World

One of the things I love about the Empowered to Connect approach to parenting is the practice of giving my children the opportunity to "re-do" whatever it is they've done wrong. Rather than punish the wrong behaviour, we try to give the kids a chance to do it right so we can reinforce the correct behaviour and build muscle memory for that behaviour. It's a great strategy for ending discipline on a positive note, and for staying connected with my child throughout the correction. Or that's how it's supposed to work...

Truthfully? It's exhausting. It takes forever, and requires significantly more patience and perseverance than I possess. In a house with 3 pre-schoolers, most misbehaviour involves more than one child, so in addition to dealing with at least 1 perpetrator, I also need to soothe at least 1 victim. By the time everyone is calm (including me) and the various tales of woe have been heard, we then have to reconstruct the scene of the crime and walk everyone through a re-do. For the most part, they've all been willing participants! I generally give them their scripts and we perform our re-do and everyone goes back to playing and getting along. (For the moment.) The biggest deterrent to a successful re-do is me. I start out with good intentions, and the first few hours of the day go so smoothly I'm ready to call Michael and Amy Monroe and tell them to get a camera crew up here - surely they could use my example in their next teaching dvd! Then, sometime after the 3rd or 4th nuclear meltdown of the morning, and after I've unsuccessfully attempted to tidy up the toy room, wash some dishes, and do a load of laundry, I lose my motivation. I start to get frustrated because my day is not proceeding as I had expected. I am not crossing tasks off my to-do list. Brian is going to come home and there will be no discernible improvement to the chaotic condition of our home. And could we please go fifteen minutes without someone crying?!?!

Well, despite my frustration, the re-do routine is making baby steps towards becoming established. I'm becoming more accepting of unproductive days, reminding myself that the kids will suffer more from chronic anger and frustration than they will from chronic messiness. And I know that an intentional focus on maintaining a strong connection with my children will pay off in the long run.

A few weeks ago, however, my resolve was tested. Connecting while correcting is one thing at home; being out in public takes things to a whole new level! It was a Tuesday afternoon, and we had been at church for the whole morning. I had attended the ladies' Bible study while the kids were in their classes, and we were doing our usual walkabout after lunch. Being at church gives us lots of practice at "Sticking Together" - it's a great big, wide open space that practically begs kids to explore at high speed. Logan had already received a few reminders to stay close when he suddenly took off (followed by his sister, of course!). He wasn't exactly running away, he was just enjoying the freedom of running as far and as fast as he could. I knew I'd have to deal with him, but I wasn't too concerned - I figured he'd turn around eventually and I knew that he's familiar enough with the building to not get himself lost. Kolbie, however, was not as confident. He started wailing - a loud, frightened wail that bounced around that great big, wide open space... I grabbed his hand and started to move as quickly as I could without running myself. (I didn't want to spook Logan or give him the impression that it was a game of chase!) When they finally stopped and I caught up to them, I was annoyed, embarrassed, and generally frazzled. My first instinct was to scoop everyone up while speaking tensely at them through clenched teeth and get in the van and go home. Then it popped into my head that I should probably stay calm and do a re-do. I found myself at a fork in the road: follow my instincts and deal with the guilt and regret I'd feel for taking my embarrassment out on my kids, or do the right thing and forget about what other people might be thinking and walk the kids through a re-do?

Thankfully, I chose the re-do! I explained that running that far ahead was not okay, and that we were going to go back to where they'd started to take off and practice sticking together. They all agreed, Kolbie calmed down, and the re-do was fairly successful. From an outside perspective, it probably looked like Logan got away with misbehaving. From my perspective, it was a win-win. The behaviour was corrected, our connection was maintained, and we all got into the van content and at peace with each other. Experiences like this encourage me to keep going. On days when it seems like it would be so much easier if I could just inflict a prompt, painful punishment I remember that we all do better when I can stay calm and give them a second chance (or a 52nd chance, depending on the day!).

My resolve is also strengthened by the example of Jesus in John 21, where He leads Simon Peter through a re-do of sorts. On the night Jesus was crucified, Peter had denied his relationship with Jesus three times while standing beside a charcoal fire (John 18:17-18, 25-27). After His resurrection, Jesus appears to Peter and some of the other disciples. They are out fishing and Jesus builds a charcoal fire on the beach so they can have a fish fry.

     After breakfast Jesus asked Simon Peter, "Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?"
     "Yes, Lord," Peter replied, "you know I love you."
     "Then feed my lambs," Jesus told him.
     Jesus repeated the question: "Simon son of John, do you love me?"
     "Yes, Lord," Peter said, "you know I love you."
     "Then take care of my sheep," Jesus said.
     A third time he asked him, "Simon son of John, do you love me?"
     Peter was hurt that Jesus asked the question a third time. He said, "Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you."
     Jesus said, "Then feed my sheep."

~John 21:15-17 (NLT)

I love this! I love that Jesus restores Peter to relationship with Himself by giving him a chance to acknowledge his love for Jesus three times - one for every denial. I love that Jesus doesn't shame or belittle him for his weakness. And I love the trust that Peter demonstrates when he says, "You know that I love you." Clearly, he felt fully known and fully loved by Jesus. (Dr. Karyn Purvis, 2010, p. 42)

So I will persevere. I will remember that I have been given many second chances. And I will let the love of Jesus shine through me to my kids.

*For more information on the IDEAL response to misbehaviour, check out http://empoweredtoconnect.org/the-ideal-response-for-parents.

Works Cited

Dr. Karyn Purvis, with Michael & Amy Monroe (2010). Created to Connect. Empowered to Connect.

Dancing over Texas

A cloudless night
A nearly full moon
Flashes of light spark,
then fizzle
As moonlight dances on water.
Like fireworks on the ground
or a sparkler on a birthday cake -
An unexpected gift at 30,000 feet.
A ribbon of water is suddenly illuminated
as the moon flies over a winding creek,
then disappears just as suddenly.

My heart is filled with wonder, delight, peace...
"Fear not,"
God whispers to my soul,
"Let's play."
And I know -
this is where I'm meant to be.
Hope and joy cascade into gratitude,
overwhelming me with extravagant love.