Middle-Aged Moms and Movies

Last night I watched the Academy Awards and wondered what happened to my 40s. In my 20s and 30s, Oscar night was a big event in my life. I knew all the movies, all the actors, all the back stories you could only read in People magazine. Now I stare at a list of films I've never heard of and wonder where I’ve been. Birdman? I thought he was the overly tattooed white guy who used to play basketball for the Denver Nuggets. And the last thing I remember Michael Keaton in was Batman.

A decade ago, I still managed to keep up with movies. I'd pick them out at my corner Blockbuster store, and then squeeze them in after the kids had gone to bed or in the middle of the night when I was feeding the babies. Still, I had high hopes that some day I would actually go to the movies again. My husband and I would put a Totino’s pizza in the oven, give the kids a few instructions, and walk out the door all by ourselves. And yet here I am in my 40s, with children who require no babysitter, and less time than I’ve ever had in my life. Why did no one tell me about this phenomenon?

Why didn’t someone tell me that once my kids were old enough to leave alone, I wouldn’t really be so interested in leaving them anymore? That they’d become some of my very favorite people to hang out with, and that being at their every basketball game or concert or speech tournament would become our idea of a date night. Because even if they’re losing their eighth straight game in a row, I’d so much rather be there than sitting in a movie theater.

We have friends who are taking their kids on their 20^th anniversary trips, because by the time they hit their 25^th, their kids will be gone. When you’re celebrating your 10^th anniversary by wiping noses and bottoms, this sounds crazy. But ten years later, when you’re thinking SAT tests and college majors, it makes a lot of sense.

If I’m going to watch a movie today, it’s going to be with my kids. I’ll be wearing pajama bottoms and watching something with no nudity or profanity that received a positive review on Plugged In. I may be folding a load of laundry while I watch, and there's a good chance I'll start dozing off before it's over, no matter how good it is. I'm a stereotype. I’m as uncool as I can be. I’m showing my age. (I even cancelled my People magazine subscription because I no longer cared about the 17-year-old “stars” they kept telling me about.) I rarely go out, and I’m in bed by 9:30. My life is all filled up with kids and kid stuff, and I couldn’t be happier. 

I Heard It from the Dentist

I got a crown yesterday. Not the Burger King kind or the one we hope to get in heaven, but the covers-a-gaping-hole-in-your-tooth kind. The $1,800 kind. Count me among the 99 percent of people who hate going to the dentist. Very few things freak me out like sitting inverted under a bright light with my twitching mouth wide open and a drill shooting shards of my enamel across the room.

About halfway through the drilling process yesterday, something strange happened. The dentist stopped what he was doing, raised me up in my chair, looked through my very stylish goggles into my eyes, and firmly said, "Leura. We are trying to help you, but your tongue is working against us. You're trying to hold it back and it's not working. You have to let us do it." He went on to explain that people have no idea how strong the tongue is.

Actually, I have a good idea. My tongue and I have been duking it out for years. James, the brother of Jesus, wrote that all the animals of the land and sea can be tamed, but no human being has ever successfully tamed the human tongue (James 3:7). When the dentist pointed out my uncooperative tongue, the metaphor was not lost on me. I immediately thought of my 2015 spiritual goal. The goal formed when I read in a devotional that the determining factor of spiritual maturity is not how many Bible verses we've memorized or how many good works we do, but the words that come out of our mouths.

Ouch. That stings more than the nick the dentist made in my tongue with his drill. I decided, after reading that a month ago, that I was going to get serious about "bridling" my unruly tongue. To bridle is to control or restrain, and James 1:26 tells me that my religion is worthless if I don't keep my words under control. My "religion" (though I don't often use that word) is everything to me. How devastating to think of it as worthless.

So I've tried hard to be more intentional with my words, the ones I say and the ones I don't say. I've tried to make myself think before I speak. Despite my efforts, I still regularly find myself needing to confess my careless, negative words. That's why the comment I heard yesterday connected with me at a level way beyond what you would expect from a conversation with a dentist. What if God had said those same words to me? "Leura, I'm trying to help you here, but you're working against me. Relax. Let me do the work. You can't hold your tongue back on your own anymore than you can sandblast your tooth with a drill on your own. It's too powerful."

This is not a battle I'm going to eek out on my own. (And really, so few of them are.) I can stuff a sock inside my mouth and still find a way to complain, criticize, gossip, and exaggerate. But the Holy Spirit is an expert in tongue management. This is His job. Instead of putting my efforts into trying to control my tongue myself, I'll find more victory in daily (hourly?) submitting myself to Him and being mindful of His work in me. He is so much better equipped for bridling than I am.

Another sign of spiritual maturity is how regularly we rely on the Spirit instead of ourselves. "You're trying to hold back your tongue, and it's not working. Let me do it." How much clearer could He be?

Know the Real Enemy

Two known terrorists were killed today by police in France. I caught the news by accident this morning as I intended to turn on music to clean my house by. I didn’t get much cleaning done. Instead I found myself in tears over the image of these young men arriving today before the throne of God. I know they were murderers. Terrorists, even—the worst kind of murderers. I’m sure social media is abuzz with cheers and online chest bumps that the bad guys got what they deserve. It is a good day for freedom and democracy, especially if we find out that no hostages lost their lives in the battle. But my soul tells me it’s a bad day for humanity.

Every one of us will stand before God and give an account of our lives. Today was the day for Cherif and Said Kouachi, as well as their hostage-taking associate who was killed in a separate police raid in Paris. We might think, “Well, good! They deserve nothing less than eternity in hell.” And I might think that, too, except that I know I deserve nothing less than eternity in hell. I haven’t murdered anyone, but even my most righteous deeds are like filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6) when compared to the holiness of God.

I imagine these two men standing before God, instantly realizing that they had missed it. There is no deception in heaven, only perfect clarity. It must have been perfectly clear to them that they had given their whole lives to a lie, that they had killed for that lie, that they had died for that lie. They were told they’d find 72 sexually-charged virgins waiting just for them in paradise if they died a jihadist’s death. Instead, they found truth and holiness. They found the God who can only be just, who can give them nothing but what their life’s wages earned for them—death and eternal separation from the presence of God and all that is good. No one walks away from that proud. Even the most passionate atheist will make a humble, sorrowful departure from God as they realize the truth.

I can’t cheer that these men are dead. I weep for them. I weep for a world that is so deceived. Our fight is not against flesh and blood. It is against the evil one and his power of deception. The same “spiritual forces of evil” (Ephesians 6:12) that sucked these men into murdering and dying for an empty lie tries to do the same to me, to my kids, to everyone around me. And a lot of the time, he is successful.

What can we do? We’ve got to start with ourselves. We can identify the lies that we’re so easily deceived by, and we can immerse ourselves in God’s truth, the truth found in His Word. We can memorize scripture and battle the lies with it. We can refuse to listen to the voices in our heads that tell us we’re not good enough, smart enough, thin enough, perfect enough. We can teach our kids that their enemies are not the people they can see, but the invisible one who seeks to kill, steal, and destroy their very lives. And on a very practical note, we can pray for our enemies. I recently heard about a website where you can adopt your very own terrorist to pray for. Hard to be more Jesus-like than that. God is pulling people out of darkness and deception every minute of every day. I can think of nothing cooler than praying a terrorist out of darkness. I’m signing up today. 

Books Read in 2014 (or at least the ones I remember)

Must-Read

Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain—The most enlightening book I’ve read in a long time. It helped me understand the introverts in my family, the extroverts, myself, and the society we live in. So many a-ha moments. Don’t miss this one.

A Wind in the House of Islam by David Garrison—Also exceptionally enlightening. Helped me understand how Islam became so pervasive and what God is doing among Muslims today. We’ll never hear these stories in the news, but they teach us how to pray and remind us that the world is not spinning out of control. If you care at all about this topic, read this one. Today.

Yawning at Tigers: You Can’t Tame God So Stop Trying by Drew Dyck—This book spawned a series on my blog about what it means to fear the Lord. If you ever have the hunch that God is getting too small or too controllable in your mind, this book will correct your perspective.

Runner Up in the Must-Read Category

Rumors of Another World: What on Earth Are We Missing by Philip Yancey—I’d never heard of this 2003 Yancey book but picked it up on a whim. With Yancey, you know you’re going to get good stories and good writing. Here he addresses the visible, material world and the invisible, spiritual world and how the two often collide if we’re paying attention. Thought-provoking and worth reading just for the quotes he uses from other sources.

Technology

It’s Complicated: The Social Lives of Networked Teens by Danah Boyd—An unusual choice for a mom whose teenagers don’t have cell phones, let alone Facebook accounts. But I’m also someone who wonders how all this technology is rewiring our brains and changing our culture. Originally written as a dissertation, this is a current (2014), well researched book. The author is just young enough to think parents are the real problem and blame them for nearly everything. While I didn’t appreciate that tone, I was reassured by her conclusion that teens today use social media not to hide from genuine social interaction, but because they long for it. It makes sense that in a world where fearful parents have made their kids’ worlds smaller, kids attempt to make it bigger from the comfort of their own rooms.

BBB (Bios/Books from Bloggers)

Kisses from Katie: A Story of Relentless Love and Redemption by Katie Davis—Read this on the plane to and from Russia in January. Nothing gets you in the mood for an overseas mission trip quicker than reading about a teenager who gives up her affluent life to feed, nurse, love, and adopt nearly 20 Ugandan girls. Eager to have my kids read this some day.

Carry On, Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life by Glennon Doyle Melton—I love it when a blogger gets an easy book deal. I’ve read a few of this writer’s pieces on her blog, Momastery, and she certainly deserves a whole book. Although we come from totally different places, we see the world and faith in a lot of similar ways, and her easy, casual, hilarious style sucked me in and made for a quick read.

Move On: When Mercy Meets Your Mess by Vicki Courtney—Do you see a theme here? Apparently I’m attracted to books for messy people. Didn’t like this one nearly as much as Melton’s, but it did contain some stories that have stuck with me.

Girl Meets God: On the Path to a Spiritual Life—Finally got a Lauren Winner book checked off my list. Glad I read it, but probably don’t need another.   

Bossypants by Tina Fey—A funny weekend-get-away read but a little too raunchy to widely recommend.

Fiction (which I could devour but only allow as an occasional treat)

Someone Knows My Name by Lawrence Hill—This book has been out since 2008, but I just found it this year. Painful to read, almost impossible to imagine, but important to hear how a young life was forever changed by slavery. Highly recommend this one.

The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd—I didn’t set out to read two fiction books about slaves, and probably I should have spaced them out more. They’ve melded a bit in my head. This was my least favorite of the two, but the character development made it worth reading.

A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving—This one did little more for me than confirm that the Kindle is good for fiction. I had no idea how long it was when I started it. While it contained some slick writing and a story like no other, it was not worth the time commitment.

Sycamore Row by John Grisham—This was a typical Grisham book, which means you don’t love it, but you don’t put it down, either.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury—One of the joys of having a high schooler is getting to read his books with him. A product of a rural education, I missed out on a lot of the classics and am looking forward to making up for it through my children. This book is a strange one, and at first I didn’t like it at all. By mid-way through I was starting to get it and realize how prophetic Bradbury was. How could he have known, in 1953, that we would be a culture mesmerized by media and addicted to virtual-world entertainment?  Made for great discussion with my 15-year-old. 

Making a List, Checking It Twice

At any given time, I have several lists going. This time of year, my lists multiply, until the Post-Its no longer cut it. I recently had to start a dedicated notebook full of lists. (I admire those of you who use phones for such things. As my tech skills are pretty much maxed out with texting, it’s unlikely I will be joining you any time soon.)

There’s one list I’ve never made, though this is the year I’ll start. It was prompted by a question our pastor asked last weekend: “Do you live like you believe in Christmas?” Not that you believe in the holiday and therefore put up a tree and stockings and some lights. Do you—do I—live the rest of the year acting like Christmas matters?

While sort of listening to the rest of the sermon, I started pondering what it would look like to live like I believe in Christmas, like it matters to my life. As is often the case, a list formed in my head. Here’s the check list I came up with to see if Christmas is genuinely affecting the other 363 days of my life each year:

• Am I spending time with Jesus?
• Am I looking for glory for myself, or can I let God have all the glory?
• Do I spend more time trying to control the people and situations around me, or more time actively surrendering them to the Lord?
• Am I looking out for myself, or looking out for ways God wants to use me?
• Do I have hope? Do I talk and act like I have hope?
• Is self-protection my number-one goal in any relationship, or is it being authentic and trying to love the other person well?
• Do I live as one beaten down by the world (i.e., whining and complaining), or as one who believes the battle is won and I’m on the winning side?
• Am I willing to give grace to the people who annoy/confuse/hurt me the most?
• How tightly am I holding onto the things of this world? Would I freely let them go if God asked me to?
• Do I live like I believe that this world is not my home?
• Am I aware of my sin? Do I try to hide it or do I admit it? Do I ask for forgiveness when I need to?
• When’s the last time I loved or served someone well and didn’t tell anyone else about it?
• Am I asking God for big things and keeping my eyes peeled for His response?
• Is my life marked by gratitude? Would the people around me say that it is?

It would be a lot easier just to get to work on my errand list and shove this list in a forgotten drawer somewhere. These are hard, soul-searching questions. They’re harder than some make-believe “naughty or nice” list that causes me to look around and conclude that I’m doing a lot better than some other people. I know I’m not “naughty,” but am I living the way I want to live? Like Christmas affects me every day of the year? Hard questions, but important ones. Christmas, Immanuel, God with us—these things matter. I want to live like they matter to me. 

Preparing Room

Have you ever been mindlessly mumbling along to a Christmas song only to be stopped in your tracks by the words you were saying? I’ve sung Joy to the World hundreds of times. In seventh grade music class, I learned the harmony part, and it became my favorite Christmas carol to sing. In eighth grade my best friend and I changed the lyrics, practiced the cool harmony over and over again, and called all the local radio stations with our new rendition, which touted their awesome music and, we hoped, would get us some free air time. (It didn’t work, but we did sing to a lot of DJs one Friday night. There were worse things we could've been doing.)

But today, I couldn’t get past this line: “Let every heart prepare Him room.” That could be the tagline for advent! Surely some advertiser has thought of that. But what about me? Have I thought about it? Not in a commercial, sell-it-to-a-radio-station sort of way, but in a personal way? I love the idea of preparing room in my heart for Jesus. Of course Jesus is a permanent resident in my heart, but sometimes it surely gets a little crowded in there. Those words give me a much-needed visual: I’m packing up all the unwanted junk in my heart and moving it out. I'm preparing a place for the thing I want most. Just like we cleaned out the guest room in 1999 to make room for our new baby, I’m preparing a place for this Christmas baby, the one who became my Savior and my King.

Advent is a time to dump some of the random things taking up my brain space—Where did I last see that missing library book? Will Braden ever learn to iron? What was the name of that girl who ran away from my fourth-grade slumber party? Do we have enough milk?—and prepare my mind to meditate on Immanuel, God with us, and how spectacularly mind-blowing that is.

Bethlehem was all filled up when Jesus arrived. What about you and me? Have we prepared room for Him?
  

Giving Purposeful Thanks

Know what I’m most thankful for this week? That thankfulness requires an object. I’m thankful that I don’t have to walk around tomorrow with only some vague notion of gratitude directed at no one in particular. 

I admire the courageous pilgrims and their descendants who sacrificed so much to make America the home I have today. The Indians helped keep them alive and taught them how to survive in this new land, and we’re all glad for that. I think turkey’s delicious, and who doesn’t love mashed potatoes and gravy? It’s lovely to have a couple days off work to eat yummy food and spend time with family. And I’m grateful that we can do it without fear of bombs falling on our houses or armed terrorists stealing our children. I’m not sure you can live in America and not be thankful for freedom.

My children are healthy and go to excellent schools. My husband is kind, faithful, and hard-working. We live in a house I still can’t believe is ours. I have rich, deep, life-giving friendships, and I get to do my dream job from the comfort of my dining room while wearing sweatpants.

So much to be thankful for, but nothing compares to knowing the One to whom I give my thanks. He’s real, He cares, and He is the giver of every good and perfect gift. My thanks is directed firmly at Him.