Someone in my house was invited to a dance. With a member of the opposite sex. Household confidentiality prevents me from naming this person, but suffice it to say, it's a surprising turn of events. And it officially ushers this mama into Parenting 2.0.
I guess I've been here for a while, and this is just my official welcome ticket. I still lay in bed with a kid or two and read The House at Pooh Corner, and I'm still pouring other people's milk, though it's into real glasses and not sippy cups (or "tippy cups," as my brother and no one else in the world calls them). My house still holds dozens of stuffed animals and crayons, and Veggie Tales has not gone out of vogue here. Still, that 1.0 stuff is mostly behind me now. We've moved from Blue's Clues and the habitual wearing of princess/superhero costumes to school dances and calculus, from me desperate to go to the grocery store alone to begging someone to go with me. And it all feels like it took about 12 minutes. It's a cliche to say that, I know, but it became a cliche because it's totally true. It all goes so fast.
But I'm firmly of the belief that 2.0 is an upgrade. Anything that involves people sweeping my floor, shoveling my snow, and carrying in my groceries is superior to something that poops on me. No one cries inexplicably anymore. They use real words that describe emotions that make sense to me. They sometimes express themselves with grunts, but at least it's not whining. And while there's no one telling me 149 times a day how much they love me, an unexpected hug or an appreciative note seem so much more meaningful to me now.
They say that parenting small children is physically taxing and that older kids are emotionally taxing. I wouldn't call it taxing, at least not yet. It's stretching. Challenging. Faith-building, for sure. But it's also fun. Just plain fun. They're awkward and quirky, greasy and smelly, curious and hilarious. They watch the news with me at night and ask interesting questions. They notice all the pairing up at school and try to figure out what that's all about, what people are really after. They challenge my understanding of Scripture and politics and the way the world works, along with my footwear and my dinner selections. They amaze me every day, and while they also frustrate me and worry me every day, the amazement is what lingers the longest. Where did these personalities come from? How did he get so good at that, and where does her confidence come from? How did we manage to produce such incredible people? That's what I'm really thinking, even as I nag about the unrinsed dishes and the messy rooms and the money that streams out of my wallet like water from a hose.
2.0, I'll take you. And I'll do some of your best PR. I look for the frantic young moms at the grocery store and in the church parking lot just so I can tell them, "This gets better and better." I tell my friends with younger kids to stop dreading the teenage years and to look forward to them, because no matter what they've heard, these years rock. Sometimes the person who needs the PR talk is me. As I'm handing out money and holding my breath (along with my tongue) in the passenger's seat of the car, as I'm doling out complex relational advice and pretending to understand gravity waves, I remind myself that this is the best job ever.
Unless 3.0 is even better?
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Friday, February 12, 2016
Scarcity or Abundance?
Do you view life through a scarcity lens or an abundance lens?
That's what I'm asking myself after reading a line from Brene Brown's book, The Gifts of Imperfection. She writes that by the time our feet hit the ground in the morning, our minds are already focused on scarcity: "I didn't get enough sleep." "I don't have enough time today."
I would have thought myself an abundance girl and not a scarcity girl, but when she put it in those terms, I stand guilty as charged. I would add, "I don't have enough money for that," "I don't have enough intelligence/education/experience for that," and my ubiquitous, "I don't have enough hair for that." (If you've known me a week, you've probably heard me whine about my scarcity of hair.)
The temptation to believe we don't have enough may be the biggest lie Satan hurls at us. Especially those of us who live in America. But how easily I fall for it, especially when it comes to the immaterial things of life. I am aware that four pairs of running shoes and two crockpots are more than enough. On those dreaded days when I'm trying to cram $200 worth of groceries in my overcrowded pantry, I'm aware than we have more than enough food. My driveway is filled with an abundance of vehicles, my social calendar is filled with an abundance of friends, and my house is filled with an abundance of children. Clearly, scarcity is not a problem here.
Until I think of it in terms of time. And energy. And talent and creativity and productivity. Then I can be tempted to think that I don't have enough, and that always leads to a place of discontentment, comparison, and complaints. That is not a place God wants me to live.
Do I really believe His Word? Do I believe that He has given me all I need for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3)? That I have everything I need, at all times (2 Corinthians 9:8)? That He will meet all my needs according to the riches of His glory (Philippians 4:19)? Am I willing to believe that even in my greatest weakness--or my greatest scarcity--that He is sufficient (2 Corinthians 12:9)?
I believe. Now help my unbelief, loving Father. Don't let scarcity thinking rob me of gratitude. Don't let it take my eyes off the unfathomable abundance You have blessed me with. Replace my "I don't have enough" talk with "I have more than enough." I walk in relationship with the Creator and Sustainer of the universe, who knows me and loves me personally. He is more than enough.
That's what I'm asking myself after reading a line from Brene Brown's book, The Gifts of Imperfection. She writes that by the time our feet hit the ground in the morning, our minds are already focused on scarcity: "I didn't get enough sleep." "I don't have enough time today."
I would have thought myself an abundance girl and not a scarcity girl, but when she put it in those terms, I stand guilty as charged. I would add, "I don't have enough money for that," "I don't have enough intelligence/education/experience for that," and my ubiquitous, "I don't have enough hair for that." (If you've known me a week, you've probably heard me whine about my scarcity of hair.)
The temptation to believe we don't have enough may be the biggest lie Satan hurls at us. Especially those of us who live in America. But how easily I fall for it, especially when it comes to the immaterial things of life. I am aware that four pairs of running shoes and two crockpots are more than enough. On those dreaded days when I'm trying to cram $200 worth of groceries in my overcrowded pantry, I'm aware than we have more than enough food. My driveway is filled with an abundance of vehicles, my social calendar is filled with an abundance of friends, and my house is filled with an abundance of children. Clearly, scarcity is not a problem here.
Until I think of it in terms of time. And energy. And talent and creativity and productivity. Then I can be tempted to think that I don't have enough, and that always leads to a place of discontentment, comparison, and complaints. That is not a place God wants me to live.
Do I really believe His Word? Do I believe that He has given me all I need for life and godliness (2 Peter 1:3)? That I have everything I need, at all times (2 Corinthians 9:8)? That He will meet all my needs according to the riches of His glory (Philippians 4:19)? Am I willing to believe that even in my greatest weakness--or my greatest scarcity--that He is sufficient (2 Corinthians 12:9)?
I believe. Now help my unbelief, loving Father. Don't let scarcity thinking rob me of gratitude. Don't let it take my eyes off the unfathomable abundance You have blessed me with. Replace my "I don't have enough" talk with "I have more than enough." I walk in relationship with the Creator and Sustainer of the universe, who knows me and loves me personally. He is more than enough.
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Ancient Psalm, Modern Relevance?
Just read Psalm 10. Does this sound like a description of anyone we know? A political candidate who is being endorsed by prominent evangelicals? Just asking.
Psalm 10:2-7
In his arrogance the wicked man hunts down the weak, who are caught in the schemes he devises.
He boasts about the cravings of his heart; he blesses the greedy and reviles the Lord.
In his pride the wicked man does not seek him; in all his thoughts there is no room for God.
His ways are always prosperous; your laws are rejected by him; he sneers at all his enemies.
He says to himself, "Nothing will ever shake me." He swears, "No one will ever do me harm."
His mouth is full of lies and threats; trouble and evil are under his tongue."
Psalm 10:2-7
In his arrogance the wicked man hunts down the weak, who are caught in the schemes he devises.
He boasts about the cravings of his heart; he blesses the greedy and reviles the Lord.
In his pride the wicked man does not seek him; in all his thoughts there is no room for God.
His ways are always prosperous; your laws are rejected by him; he sneers at all his enemies.
He says to himself, "Nothing will ever shake me." He swears, "No one will ever do me harm."
His mouth is full of lies and threats; trouble and evil are under his tongue."
Monday, January 18, 2016
Just Say "Wait"
My son got his first cell phone this weekend. The only thing that makes this remarkable is that he's 16 1/2.
When he was 8 or 9, we made the decision to buck the system and minimize our kids' technology as long as possible. The decision came after hearing someone I deeply respect talk about the skills kids have lost as they've come to rely on their phones for everything, and the premature authority they've gained by having the world at their fingertips at the age of 12.
This was confirmed by a conversation I had on an airplane with a youth pastor. She was in charge of an overnight lock-in at her church for junior high kids. One boy, at about 11 p.m., decided he wasn't having a good time and texted his dad to come get him. The dad did, thinking, of course, that the boy had spoken with the adults in charge first. But that hadn't happened. The boy was bored and ready to go home, and he had an easy fix. Without a phone, he would have needed to talk to an adult, who likely would have talked him into staying. Instead, the boy made a unilateral decision that launched a citywide manhunt for a missing 13-year-old. That is premature authority.
I didn't want that for my child, but there were certain things I did want. Like for him to be fully present with the people around him and to learn to live by his wits. Stranded after school without a phone? Figure it out. Forgot your homework? You'll have to solve that one on your own. I also didn't want to fight the battles that parents everywhere are forced to fight with their phone-obsessed kids. I heard stories of well intending mothers who purchased cell phones so they could keep tabs on their kids, only to lose these same kids to the very technology that they had brought eagerly into their lives. I wanted my kids talking to me, not some pimply-faced pre-teen doling out questionable advice on the other end of a phone.
So we held off when Braden turned 13, and again when he entered high school. By high school, we were lone rangers. I could tell the office ladies were confused when I occasionally called to get a message to my son in algebra. But they took down my message, and he got it. Some of his teachers were surprised when he wasn't able to receive their texted announcements, but he got the information other ways. Sometimes, but not often, he had to borrow a friend's phone. Sometimes he used the land line in the school office. You'd be surprised at how many kids have no idea what a land line is or that they exist in nearly every public place. I grew up asking the lady at the library if I could use her phone, and kids today aren't above such things.
Then Braden turned 16 last summer. He began getting into a vehicle and driving off by himself. This is quite an adjustment for a mother. She knows the law has deemed this a safe and legal activity, but she also knows that this same boy still plays with Legos, sleeps in his size 10/12 high-water jammie bottoms, and can't for the life of him put the Rice Krispies away in the morning. And now he's going to sail down the highway at 75 miles an hour.
We did have a phone for Braden to use when he drove, but by 16, he was so unaccustomed to using it that he either forgot it or didn't turn it on. This frustrated me until I analyzed why it frustrated me. Moms everywhere now expect their young drivers to check in. They expect them to be at their parents' beckon call. This all makes sense in 2016, but for generations of mothers and teenagers, this was not an option. When I started driving, my mom relied on prayer, faith, and my own good sense to get me home safely. I found that sending Braden out into the world without me--and without a phone--was good for my prayer life and good for building his driving confidence. And if trouble came, he'd have an excellent opportunity to rely on his wits.
That was well and good until last week, when we had three places to be at the same time. In the past, this would have been a dilemma, but now we have three drivers. Glory be! Braden could drive his 8-year-old sister to basketball practice. Except that it's snowing. The roads are icy, the practice is in an unfamiliar place, and it will be dark when they return home. I don't think an 8-year-old should have to rely on her wits, nor on her 16-year-old brother's wits.
Of course they made it to basketball and back, sans phone, just fine. Braden had more driving confidence, Camryn's basketball skills increased, and I had yet another example of how God cares for my children far outside my reach. But still. It was time.
Every family makes their own decisions about when to allow new technology into their lives and when to keep it at bay. I don't expect a whole lot of people to agree with the decision we made, but that's not my intent. My purpose is to tell the parents of 4th graders, 6th graders, and even 8th and 10th graders, that your child can live without a phone. Don't let them tell you otherwise. No matter how hard they beg, no matter that every other child in their school has a phone and couldn't possibly live without it, let me assure you that a phone is not essential to a child's life and fruitfulness. If you're not ready to bring it--or Instagram, Snapchat, or any number of things that I don't know exist--into their lives, don't. Listen to your gut and do not be swayed. Swim upstream on this one, and feel good about doing it. You'll know when the time is right.
When he was 8 or 9, we made the decision to buck the system and minimize our kids' technology as long as possible. The decision came after hearing someone I deeply respect talk about the skills kids have lost as they've come to rely on their phones for everything, and the premature authority they've gained by having the world at their fingertips at the age of 12.
This was confirmed by a conversation I had on an airplane with a youth pastor. She was in charge of an overnight lock-in at her church for junior high kids. One boy, at about 11 p.m., decided he wasn't having a good time and texted his dad to come get him. The dad did, thinking, of course, that the boy had spoken with the adults in charge first. But that hadn't happened. The boy was bored and ready to go home, and he had an easy fix. Without a phone, he would have needed to talk to an adult, who likely would have talked him into staying. Instead, the boy made a unilateral decision that launched a citywide manhunt for a missing 13-year-old. That is premature authority.
I didn't want that for my child, but there were certain things I did want. Like for him to be fully present with the people around him and to learn to live by his wits. Stranded after school without a phone? Figure it out. Forgot your homework? You'll have to solve that one on your own. I also didn't want to fight the battles that parents everywhere are forced to fight with their phone-obsessed kids. I heard stories of well intending mothers who purchased cell phones so they could keep tabs on their kids, only to lose these same kids to the very technology that they had brought eagerly into their lives. I wanted my kids talking to me, not some pimply-faced pre-teen doling out questionable advice on the other end of a phone.
So we held off when Braden turned 13, and again when he entered high school. By high school, we were lone rangers. I could tell the office ladies were confused when I occasionally called to get a message to my son in algebra. But they took down my message, and he got it. Some of his teachers were surprised when he wasn't able to receive their texted announcements, but he got the information other ways. Sometimes, but not often, he had to borrow a friend's phone. Sometimes he used the land line in the school office. You'd be surprised at how many kids have no idea what a land line is or that they exist in nearly every public place. I grew up asking the lady at the library if I could use her phone, and kids today aren't above such things.
Then Braden turned 16 last summer. He began getting into a vehicle and driving off by himself. This is quite an adjustment for a mother. She knows the law has deemed this a safe and legal activity, but she also knows that this same boy still plays with Legos, sleeps in his size 10/12 high-water jammie bottoms, and can't for the life of him put the Rice Krispies away in the morning. And now he's going to sail down the highway at 75 miles an hour.
We did have a phone for Braden to use when he drove, but by 16, he was so unaccustomed to using it that he either forgot it or didn't turn it on. This frustrated me until I analyzed why it frustrated me. Moms everywhere now expect their young drivers to check in. They expect them to be at their parents' beckon call. This all makes sense in 2016, but for generations of mothers and teenagers, this was not an option. When I started driving, my mom relied on prayer, faith, and my own good sense to get me home safely. I found that sending Braden out into the world without me--and without a phone--was good for my prayer life and good for building his driving confidence. And if trouble came, he'd have an excellent opportunity to rely on his wits.
That was well and good until last week, when we had three places to be at the same time. In the past, this would have been a dilemma, but now we have three drivers. Glory be! Braden could drive his 8-year-old sister to basketball practice. Except that it's snowing. The roads are icy, the practice is in an unfamiliar place, and it will be dark when they return home. I don't think an 8-year-old should have to rely on her wits, nor on her 16-year-old brother's wits.
Of course they made it to basketball and back, sans phone, just fine. Braden had more driving confidence, Camryn's basketball skills increased, and I had yet another example of how God cares for my children far outside my reach. But still. It was time.
Every family makes their own decisions about when to allow new technology into their lives and when to keep it at bay. I don't expect a whole lot of people to agree with the decision we made, but that's not my intent. My purpose is to tell the parents of 4th graders, 6th graders, and even 8th and 10th graders, that your child can live without a phone. Don't let them tell you otherwise. No matter how hard they beg, no matter that every other child in their school has a phone and couldn't possibly live without it, let me assure you that a phone is not essential to a child's life and fruitfulness. If you're not ready to bring it--or Instagram, Snapchat, or any number of things that I don't know exist--into their lives, don't. Listen to your gut and do not be swayed. Swim upstream on this one, and feel good about doing it. You'll know when the time is right.
Monday, January 4, 2016
2015 Book List
LOVED IT
Vanishing Grace by Philip Yancey. I've never met a Yancey book I didn't like, and this one may have been my favorite. I completely agreed with everything he said: Let's make the faith look so inviting that people want to take a closer look at that rather than what we Christians protest and boycott.
This Is the Story of a Happy Marriage by Ann Patchett. This author is a novelist, but this is a book of essays, collected from magazine articles she’s written over the years. It’s worth reading for the RV story alone. The story of her grandmother had me in tears. But the best entry in my opinion was her essay on writing. Patchett doesn’t believe in muses or writer’s block, but describes the hard, laborious business of writing for a living. For those who want to write, she offers only this advice: Sit at a computer screen and stare at it all day if you have to, but discipline yourself to sit still and do the work. As a person who earns money writing, and who often fights it every step of the way, I get it.
This Is the Story of a Happy Marriage by Ann Patchett. This author is a novelist, but this is a book of essays, collected from magazine articles she’s written over the years. It’s worth reading for the RV story alone. The story of her grandmother had me in tears. But the best entry in my opinion was her essay on writing. Patchett doesn’t believe in muses or writer’s block, but describes the hard, laborious business of writing for a living. For those who want to write, she offers only this advice: Sit at a computer screen and stare at it all day if you have to, but discipline yourself to sit still and do the work. As a person who earns money writing, and who often fights it every step of the way, I get it.
Pursue the Intentional
Life by Jean Fleming. I’ve spent about 16 months studying and savoring this
small little book, and it’s moved onto my All-Time Favorites list. Yes, you
could read it in an afternoon, but don’t. It’s best enjoyed with a journal and
a good friend to process with. For years, Jean collected material for this
book, calling it her “old-lady” project. It would make an excellent book for
any of the old ladies in your life, but really, it’s for anyone who wants to
think intentionally about who she wants to be for the rest of her life.
LOVED IT AND SHOULD HAVE READ IT YEARS AGO
The Reason for God
(2008) by Tim Keller. Another addition to my All-Time Favorites list. (It was a
good year.) As I carried this book around, a couple people asked me, “Is this
your second time through it?” No, it was my first, and I don’t know why. Keller
has been on my list for years, and this book was worth the wait. Billed as the Mere Christianity for a new generation,
it does not disappoint. We’ve all heard the reasons why people don’t believe
anymore; this book addresses them all.
The Outliers
(2008) by Malcolm Gladwell. He had me from the first page. A simple thesis
supported by captivating stories and research that connects Bill Gates, the
Beatles, and Canadian hockey players in a most fascinating way. Like Quiet a few years ago, there is
something here for everyone.
LIKED IT
The Unlikely Disciple
by Kevin Roose. I stumbled across this one in a footnote in Yancey’s Vanishing Grace, and I couldn’t believe
I hadn’t heard of it before. (It came out in 2010.) As the wife of a Liberty
University alum, and very possibly the mother of future alumni, I soaked up every word. Roose left Brown University for a year to pose as an evangelical Christian student at Liberty. His purpose: to get beyond the headlines and discover if evangelicals are really as horrible as they appear to be. His book is a candid, eye-opening look at how outsiders view evangelicals. Some
of it made my stomach turn, but there were many bright spots, too. Sadly, in the end, he landed where so many other seekers do today. Roose was “this close” to
falling in love with Jesus, but couldn’t get over the political and scientific
hurdles to choose faith. I hope he has since read The Reason for God. (Warning:
This is a very funny book, but it could also easily offend.)
What Does the Bible
Really Teach about Homosexuality? by Kevin DeYoung. DeYoung proclaimed his own stance early on, but handled the book
fairly and compassionately. He quoted many other sources, many on the
revisionist side, who agree that there’s no other interpretation than that the
Bible is consistently, firmly, unequivocally against homosexuality. What I
found most helpful was his dissection of the current objections of our day.
Own Your Life by
Sally Clarkson. The title makes it sound like a self-help book, but Clarkson
argues that the only way to really own your life is to surrender your attitudes
and actions to Jesus. Good stuff.
The Irresistible
Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical by Shane Claiborne. Books like
this always cause me turmoil, but this is the best sort of wrestling.
Daughters of Islam by Miriam Adeney. I've read many books about Muslims, but this was one of my favorites, perhaps because it was about Muslim women--what they think, what they want, what draws them to Jesus. I recommend it to anyone who wants to understand and relate better to Muslim women.
Daughters of Islam by Miriam Adeney. I've read many books about Muslims, but this was one of my favorites, perhaps because it was about Muslim women--what they think, what they want, what draws them to Jesus. I recommend it to anyone who wants to understand and relate better to Muslim women.
The Threat Matrix: The
FBI at War in the Age of Global Terror by Garrett M. Graff. Picked this up just to skim, but Graff’s style and storytelling
kept me engaged page after page, until I had read the whole thing. Really good
stories about the inner workings of the FBI, especially during 9/11. It caused
me to think of Sadaam Hussein as a real person for the first time.
SORT OF LIKED IT
Putinism: Russia and
Its Future with the West by Walter Laqueur. I was a third of the way into this complicated
book when I realized it wasn’t just my ignorance at play; the book is not well
written—or at least not well edited. It’s full of assumptions, acronyms, and
way too many Russian names. But it was still worth reading. If you want the
gist without reading the whole book, read chapter 4 on what Putinism is exactly,
chapter 6 on demography, and chapters 8 and 9 on Russia’s current foreign
policy and future trajectory. And know that at least half of all modern-day
Russians believe that Stalin was a great, wise leader. Also interesting:
Putin’s personal wealth is conservatively estimated at $70 billion, which puts
him second only to Bill Gates (who hovers around $80 billion). Others believe
Putin might be worth more like $200 billion, making him not only the wealthiest
person on the planet, but perhaps the wealthiest person to ever live. Um, scary.
Scary Close by
Donald Miller. I always like his style, but this one seemed, well, obvious. A
good recommendation for those friends who always seem to have relationship
drama.
MOSTLY GOOD FICTION
The Rosy Project by Graeme Simsion. For a quick, light read, this one was insightful. A love story centered around Asperger's, it was also a very funny book, and those don't come around very often.
The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. Writer Shauna Niequiest described this one as "a Russian novel written three hundred years ago, but somehow set in New York and Las Vegas today." Did I love it? No. Was it worth the time investment, at 771 pages? No. But it was an interesting, cohesive story with sometimes brilliant writing (it won the 2014 Pulitzer Prize for fiction). I still wanted to go back and edit out big chunks of it, though, after I finished.
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. That this epic story was about missionaries made it especially sad. It was more a story of madness than true missionary work. Like the book on Liberia that I worked on several years ago, this reminded me of the lingering effects of colonization and how it's still tearing up parts of Africa today.
All the Light We Cannot See by Anothony Doerr. (Look at me, reading two Pulitzer Prize books in one year!) After hearing so much about this one, I gave in, even though I had promised myself a break from WWII books. I found this one confusing at the beginning and a little slow throughout (the same thoughts I had about The Book Thief). But the story was good, and I particularly appreciated the portrait, heartbreaking as it was, of young boys forced into Hitler's service.
Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. I had no desire to read this one, but a long car trip convinced me to join the rest of the world and give it a try. I turned the pages as quickly as anyone else, and somehow managed to fall for the plot twist even though the book and the movie have been out for ages, but the story left me feeling ill. I shudder to think that there are real Amy Dunnes running around in this world.
Run by Ann Patchett. Read this one after Happy Marriage and was disappointed. It was OK for a beach read, but I expected more after reading her essays.
BOOKS READ ALOUD WITH KIDS
The Giver by Lois Lowry. Halfway through I wondered if I should really be reading this to my 8-year-old. We made it through and had some good discussions along the way, but we decided one in this series was enough for us.
Wonder by R.J. Palacio. A great read-aloud with my kids, especially because I could editorialize on how ridiculous it is to date in the fifth grade. We all loved the story and getting the perspective of different characters.
BOOK I COULD NOT FINISH
Gilead by Marilyn Robinson. I know she has a lot of fans, but as hard as I tried, I could not get into this one. The only purpose it served was to alleviate some of my insomnia.
As always, send me your recommendations for my 2016 list!
The Rosy Project by Graeme Simsion. For a quick, light read, this one was insightful. A love story centered around Asperger's, it was also a very funny book, and those don't come around very often.
The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. Writer Shauna Niequiest described this one as "a Russian novel written three hundred years ago, but somehow set in New York and Las Vegas today." Did I love it? No. Was it worth the time investment, at 771 pages? No. But it was an interesting, cohesive story with sometimes brilliant writing (it won the 2014 Pulitzer Prize for fiction). I still wanted to go back and edit out big chunks of it, though, after I finished.
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. That this epic story was about missionaries made it especially sad. It was more a story of madness than true missionary work. Like the book on Liberia that I worked on several years ago, this reminded me of the lingering effects of colonization and how it's still tearing up parts of Africa today.
All the Light We Cannot See by Anothony Doerr. (Look at me, reading two Pulitzer Prize books in one year!) After hearing so much about this one, I gave in, even though I had promised myself a break from WWII books. I found this one confusing at the beginning and a little slow throughout (the same thoughts I had about The Book Thief). But the story was good, and I particularly appreciated the portrait, heartbreaking as it was, of young boys forced into Hitler's service.
Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. I had no desire to read this one, but a long car trip convinced me to join the rest of the world and give it a try. I turned the pages as quickly as anyone else, and somehow managed to fall for the plot twist even though the book and the movie have been out for ages, but the story left me feeling ill. I shudder to think that there are real Amy Dunnes running around in this world.
Run by Ann Patchett. Read this one after Happy Marriage and was disappointed. It was OK for a beach read, but I expected more after reading her essays.
BOOKS READ ALOUD WITH KIDS
The Giver by Lois Lowry. Halfway through I wondered if I should really be reading this to my 8-year-old. We made it through and had some good discussions along the way, but we decided one in this series was enough for us.
Wonder by R.J. Palacio. A great read-aloud with my kids, especially because I could editorialize on how ridiculous it is to date in the fifth grade. We all loved the story and getting the perspective of different characters.
BOOK I COULD NOT FINISH
Gilead by Marilyn Robinson. I know she has a lot of fans, but as hard as I tried, I could not get into this one. The only purpose it served was to alleviate some of my insomnia.
As always, send me your recommendations for my 2016 list!
Thursday, December 24, 2015
The Good News of His Name
Christmas Eve 2015. Months of anticipation. Days of craziness. Hours of peacefulness, at last. If you're spending a few quiet moments by yourself, I offer up these words for your meditation. A friend sent them to me several days ago, and they brought me out of the frenzy and back to the Good News. Jesus came to earth. God Himself took on flesh and "moved into the neighborhood" as Eugene Peterson so beautifully put it. It happened 2,000 years ago, but it's as relevant today, in the here and now in my life, as it was for Peter, John, Mary, the Samaritan woman, Lazarus, or the man delivered from a legion of demons.
His name is wonderful counselor, mighty God, everlasting Father, prince of peace. You've heard it a million times, but have you ever considered what it means? To you? Today? Christian writer and pastor Warren Wiersbe helps us understand:
His name is Wonderful: This takes care of the dullness of life. We no longer need to live on the cheap substitutes of the world in order to have excitement and enjoyment. Jesus Christ makes everything wonderful.
His name is Counselor: This takes care of the decisions of life. We no longer will be baffled by the problems of life, wondering what step to take next. With Jesus Christ as our Counselor, we will have the wisdom that we need to make the right decision.
His name is Mighty God: This takes care of the demands of life. And life is demanding! Sometimes we feel like giving up; but through Jesus Christ we can have the strength that we need to continue--and to conquer.
His name is Everlasting Father: This takes care of the dimensions of life. We can become a part of eternity! A whole new dimension of living can be ours through Jesus Christ, when the government of our life is on His shoulders.
His name is the Prince of Peace: This takes care of the disturbances of life. How we long for lasting peace within! What we would not give for the secret of poise and confidence in a threatening world! The answer is Jesus Christ. He is the Prince of Peace, and when He controls the government of your life, He gives you peace.
Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to those on whom His favor rests. Merry Christmas.
His name is wonderful counselor, mighty God, everlasting Father, prince of peace. You've heard it a million times, but have you ever considered what it means? To you? Today? Christian writer and pastor Warren Wiersbe helps us understand:
His name is Wonderful: This takes care of the dullness of life. We no longer need to live on the cheap substitutes of the world in order to have excitement and enjoyment. Jesus Christ makes everything wonderful.
His name is Counselor: This takes care of the decisions of life. We no longer will be baffled by the problems of life, wondering what step to take next. With Jesus Christ as our Counselor, we will have the wisdom that we need to make the right decision.
His name is Mighty God: This takes care of the demands of life. And life is demanding! Sometimes we feel like giving up; but through Jesus Christ we can have the strength that we need to continue--and to conquer.
His name is Everlasting Father: This takes care of the dimensions of life. We can become a part of eternity! A whole new dimension of living can be ours through Jesus Christ, when the government of our life is on His shoulders.
His name is the Prince of Peace: This takes care of the disturbances of life. How we long for lasting peace within! What we would not give for the secret of poise and confidence in a threatening world! The answer is Jesus Christ. He is the Prince of Peace, and when He controls the government of your life, He gives you peace.
Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to those on whom His favor rests. Merry Christmas.
Thursday, December 17, 2015
Sufficient Grace
It happens every day. In fact, it happens 12 times every day, on average, in the U.S. But it's never happened in my world, not until Monday.
On Monday night, one of my son's classmates committed suicide, on the first day of finals, eleven days before Christmas. He was a well liked kid, by all accounts polite and kind and thoughtful of other kids. He was well connected and played football. He came from a two-parent home that loves Jesus. No one understands.
I'm not going to write about teen pressure and depression, gun control, or the evils of social media. (I have no idea if social media played a part in this.) That's not where my mind is this week. I keep coming back to two big thoughts, and it's those I put out there today.
The first is how much we are all connected. I knew this boy's name. I could pick him out of a crowd. Nothing more. I have never met or spoken to either of his parents. And yet the news rocked my world. Could this 15- or 16-year-old boy have imagined that a 45-year-old mother, whom he'd never met, would be so stricken by his death that she'd have to cover her cries with the shower spray in order to avoid waking up the rest of her house? Or that an 8-year-old would pull her mommy aside to ask why someone would take their own life? Could he have known that the community would be so wounded that finals would be cancelled? Does any teenager--does any human being--have any idea how intricately connected they are to the people around them?
It goes without saying that I ache to my core for his family. But my grief also extends to our entire community. We're a tight group. We go to church together and the kids play sports together. Our children start together in kindergarten, and we don't lose very many before high school graduation. The teachers in our elementary schools have kids at our high school. We live in a big town, but in some ways, we're a little village unto ourselves, and I think we'd all say we like it that way. When one of us hurts this deeply, we all hurt. Is this what the Bible means when it tells us to bear one another's burdens? I think so. It means get down on your face and cry out to God for this family. Intercede for them all day long. Fill the church to overflowing on the day of the funeral. Bring them meals. Get their trash out on the curb. Serve them in every way possible. I am thankful that this is what our community does so well. If we have to go through something so ugly, at least we get to do it alongside such beautiful people.
My second thought is theological. It's the one keeping me up at night, as theological thoughts often do. For several weeks, I've been thinking about a statement I read about the metaphorical "cup" that each of us is assigned. My cup contains both the blessings and the difficulties of my life. Jean Fleming, the author, wrote, "The unknown, difficult cup will not diminish my cup of joy." I underlined it and said, "Amen!", fully in agreement that I could say the same. And I could say the same Monday afternoon. But what about Tuesday morning? Because on Tuesday morning, the unknown, difficult cup was less theoretical and more concrete. A woman just like me was sitting a couple miles away drinking a cup that is every mother's worst nightmare. How can there possibly be any joy in that?
Where is "God's grace is sufficient for me" in this scenario? Where is "It is well with my soul?" How can God's grace possibly be enough in this situation? How can there ever be joy again? My mind circles around and around on these questions, until I give up and just pray simple, desperate prayers.
All I can say is this: I don't get it. I can't grasp it. But I believe it. God's grace is somehow sufficient in every circumstance, even the most horrific of them all. The math confounds me, but His grace is deep and wide and long and far enough to cover even this.
In my own darkest moments, I've heard Him say to my heart, "This is going to be hard. You'll have to endure. But I will show you great mercies in the midst of it." I pray that for this family and this community. The Lord's mercies are new every morning. And somehow, even in the deepest valley, He gives us strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.
On Monday night, one of my son's classmates committed suicide, on the first day of finals, eleven days before Christmas. He was a well liked kid, by all accounts polite and kind and thoughtful of other kids. He was well connected and played football. He came from a two-parent home that loves Jesus. No one understands.
I'm not going to write about teen pressure and depression, gun control, or the evils of social media. (I have no idea if social media played a part in this.) That's not where my mind is this week. I keep coming back to two big thoughts, and it's those I put out there today.
The first is how much we are all connected. I knew this boy's name. I could pick him out of a crowd. Nothing more. I have never met or spoken to either of his parents. And yet the news rocked my world. Could this 15- or 16-year-old boy have imagined that a 45-year-old mother, whom he'd never met, would be so stricken by his death that she'd have to cover her cries with the shower spray in order to avoid waking up the rest of her house? Or that an 8-year-old would pull her mommy aside to ask why someone would take their own life? Could he have known that the community would be so wounded that finals would be cancelled? Does any teenager--does any human being--have any idea how intricately connected they are to the people around them?
It goes without saying that I ache to my core for his family. But my grief also extends to our entire community. We're a tight group. We go to church together and the kids play sports together. Our children start together in kindergarten, and we don't lose very many before high school graduation. The teachers in our elementary schools have kids at our high school. We live in a big town, but in some ways, we're a little village unto ourselves, and I think we'd all say we like it that way. When one of us hurts this deeply, we all hurt. Is this what the Bible means when it tells us to bear one another's burdens? I think so. It means get down on your face and cry out to God for this family. Intercede for them all day long. Fill the church to overflowing on the day of the funeral. Bring them meals. Get their trash out on the curb. Serve them in every way possible. I am thankful that this is what our community does so well. If we have to go through something so ugly, at least we get to do it alongside such beautiful people.
My second thought is theological. It's the one keeping me up at night, as theological thoughts often do. For several weeks, I've been thinking about a statement I read about the metaphorical "cup" that each of us is assigned. My cup contains both the blessings and the difficulties of my life. Jean Fleming, the author, wrote, "The unknown, difficult cup will not diminish my cup of joy." I underlined it and said, "Amen!", fully in agreement that I could say the same. And I could say the same Monday afternoon. But what about Tuesday morning? Because on Tuesday morning, the unknown, difficult cup was less theoretical and more concrete. A woman just like me was sitting a couple miles away drinking a cup that is every mother's worst nightmare. How can there possibly be any joy in that?
Where is "God's grace is sufficient for me" in this scenario? Where is "It is well with my soul?" How can God's grace possibly be enough in this situation? How can there ever be joy again? My mind circles around and around on these questions, until I give up and just pray simple, desperate prayers.
All I can say is this: I don't get it. I can't grasp it. But I believe it. God's grace is somehow sufficient in every circumstance, even the most horrific of them all. The math confounds me, but His grace is deep and wide and long and far enough to cover even this.
In my own darkest moments, I've heard Him say to my heart, "This is going to be hard. You'll have to endure. But I will show you great mercies in the midst of it." I pray that for this family and this community. The Lord's mercies are new every morning. And somehow, even in the deepest valley, He gives us strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.
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