The Real Deal

A's cheeks flush and nostrils flare.  I watch as she lifts her hand in frustration and brings it down sharply to strike my arm.  I can't even recall what prompted the tantrum but whatever sparked the meltdown, it has now fanned into an all-out flame.  I know the routine well.  Mild-mannered and sweet most of the time, every few months my child draws the line in the carpet and digs her heels in deep, hands on hips, glaring a dare that would make a grown man tremble.  I catch her arm in mid-air and sharply say, "Stop it, now.  Calm down and breathe."  She picks up her Kindle and slams it into the floor.  I silently pick up the Kindle and march it upstairs to my room, where I place it on the top shelf of my closet under a quilt.  "You've lost electronic privileges until Friday."  I watch the painstaking unraveling of my daughter and hold back tears as she shouts at me before running into her room, where I know she has flung herself onto her bed to erupt into sobs.  I fight the urge to do the same.  Instead, I open my prayer journal and pour out my heart to God, begging for wisdom.

My daughter emerged from the womb strong-willed, once she finally decided in her own time to make an appearance.  She broke my water to let me know she was on the way but fought doses of pitocin and other painful labor-inducing procedures for hours, insisting she come on her own timetable.  If I wasn't aware of her strong will then, I became keenly aware, when after three months without sleep, a sweet soul volunteered to keep my infant angel while I desperately tried to secure some much needed shut-eye.  I had barely laid my weary head on the pillow when the phone rang and a harried voice on the other line sighed, "She's been screaming ever since you left.  I'm so sorry; I don't think I can do this."  I'm pretty sure I passed out and when I came to, I somehow drove to pick up my sweet girl to bring her home for another two years of no sleep.  She brought the cry-it-out experts to their knees.  Go ahead, Ferberize my day!

I caught another glimpse of this strong-willed spirit when at three, I spent two hours trying to put her in time out.  Inspired by an episode of Supernanny, I silently and patiently placed her little body in the time-out chair time after time after time as my own mom, who was visiting, watched the ordeal.  A and I had both drawn our lines and, by george, neither of us was giving in.  Bless my mom for not saying a word as this inexperienced mom battled an iron, independent will.  I devoured Dr. Dobson's Strong-Willed Child and Cynthia Tobias's You Can't Make Me.  Nodding in affirmation as I checked off every item on their list of strong-willed tendencies.  I encourage you all to refer to the story of Little Red from the park for further examples of my baby girl's strong will. http://sportymamajules.blogspot.com/2007/09/hair-raising-revelation.html  (Mark my word, though, when God tames, not breaks, but tames, her strong spirit for the right purpose she will be unstoppable, and I love that one day the same will that sometimes frustrates her mom will one day leave me awed and proud.  I'm also hoping she uses that same "whatever" glare when her peers try to talk her into doing something she knows is wrong, but I digress.)

I'd like to say I have no idea who passed along this mystery gene, but I'm sure that same mom who watched her daughter struggle to put a mini-tyrant in time-out thought back to the time she asked her own daughter, a girl who looks remarkably similar to me, to clean the bathroom.  The story goes that this girl cleaned the bathroom, but it failed to meet her mom's standards, so after a few failed attempts, the girl stomps sullenly into the bathroom, grabs a can of Comet, and in an all-out tantrum flings the entire can of cleaner all over the room.  Let's say once the green Comet dust settled on my her skin the only thing missing was ripped blue jeans and bulging biceps and the resemblance to the Incredible Hulk would have been eerily similar.  Needless to say, someone spent hours with a vacuum cleaner hose on her hands and knees sucking up tiny, powdery particles.  I'm sure my siblings could tell tales of my infamous tantrums.  I really hope you're all shocked to learn this and are exclaiming, "Not, Julie Anna!"  After years of prayer, God taught me how to channel my frustration into more productive endeavors like running and truly delivered me from a short temper. I understand the helplessness of not being able to adequately express extreme frustration or of not being able to have control in a situation where you feel you should have a say, but I also understand the unbelievable grace of a heavenly Father, who not only forgives but also promises that we are an incomplete work, and He's not finished, yet.

I walk into my daughter's room and pull her into my arms for a hug.  "Grab your shoes and let's go."  Baffled, she slips her feet into her pink-striped flip-flops and follows me to the car.  I load A and her brother into the car and take them to Sweet Frog.  (I know, "you what?")  Over frozen yogurt, I explain to a calm, remorseful A the concept of grace.  "You know, Pumpkin, your behavior didn't exactly earn ice cream, today, but Mom decided to extend grace and give you something you didn't deserve, much like Jesus chose to give us a gift we didn't deserve or earn."  She nods and asks if I can extend more grace and give back her Kindle early. It's not quite the a-ha moment I was hoping for.  "Um, no.  That's a consequence for a poor choice.  God also disciplines those He loves, but our behavior and poor choices don't stop Him from giving us His grace. There's nothing you can do that will ever make Him or me stop loving you. Mommy doesn't always know the right thing to do or the right way to respond but God does, and we can always ask Him for help."  Like so many times before, my daughter and I pray for God's guidance for both of us.  While the tantrums leave me weary, those quiet moments following, where my daughter and I grasp hands, bow our heads, and seek the Lord's guidance leave me breathless with gratitude, grateful that I can share such moments of faith-building with my daughter, that I can teach her where to turn when life leaves her baffled because I've been there before, and I understand how she feels.

I'm not sure what that moment communicated to my daughter, but I hope what resonated is that God's grace is real, that He doesn't expect us to jump through hoops or follow a bunch of random rules before He accepts us.  I pray that if I teach my children anything about faith it's that Jesus is into a relationship, not rules or religion.  That our obedience is the joyous outpouring of gratitude and love.  The truth is that as a church we are losing an entire generation of young people.  Young adults are walking out the doors and not looking back.  I wonder if it's because we present God as simply a referee who throws flags and calls fouls, who is only interested in us when we do the right thing.  Could it be that we don't model a real faith for our kids?  Is it that we attend church on Sunday but don't mention or follow God the rest of the week?  Do our kids see us walking daily with Christ?  Do our children see us when we struggle to find the right answers, or do we constantly act like we've always got it together as if we know all the answers because we're afraid that if they think we have any questions or doubts or fears that it will somehow turn them away from Jesus?  Do we insist our kids have a relationship with Jesus when we fail to have one ourselves?  It's hard to model genuine faith when we don't practice it.  Is that lack of authenticity, is our lack of making faith an active part of our daily lives driving people from Christ?  If it's so important then why aren't we living it?  If it's so life-altering, then why aren't we allowing Him to change us?  I ask myself these questions often because I know children see when we proclaim something with our lips yet fail to live it in our day-to-day.

I almost didn't write this.  I could hear the voices of all the parenting critics chastising me in my head.  Well, strong-willed, shmill, she just needs a spanking.  I'll tell you what you're doing wrong.  If it were my child, I would.....(Please tell me I'm not the only one who hears voices....of self-doubt from time to time.)  Parenting can be messy, lonely, frustrating, and scary.  Faith, too, can be messy, lonely, frustrating, and scary.  We all struggle with doubts.  We all have questions that aren't neatly answered.  Faith is complicated.  But grace isn't.  Jesus isn't.  I know where to turn when I don't have the answers.  When my children wake up one morning and apparently conspire against me while I'm stumbling to find my first cup of caffeine, I know in Whom my hope resides.  But do my kids?  Does my daughter know that when her emotions are spiraling out of control, and she's not sure why she's so frustrated that it's okay to feel that way, and there's a God who loves her and promises He'll help her or guide her to someone who can teach her to handle those emotions constructively?  Does my son know that God forgives Him when he messes up, that obedience should be the goal but that in His flesh he'll make bad decisions, and when he does God, mom, and dad still love him?  When A's heart is broken or she doesn't get picked for a team, will she have a relationship with the great Healer?

Parenting a strong-willed child and parenting a boy (my boy moms know what I mean) has driven me to my knees more than I ever imagined it could.  I have knee pads next to my Bible.  (Not really.) It is a humbling experience, but God is teaching me in a very real way about dependence and finding strength in Him in my weakness.  He's teaching me that it is my role to disciple my children into a real, authentic relationship with Him, that it won't happen accidentally, that it isn't the church's job, that it isn't the school's role.  It is mine, it is daily, and it takes deliberate effort.  God admonishes us in Deuteronomy 6:7 of the importance of being deliberate in teaching our children about Him, and the last command Christ gives on earth is to go and make disciples teaching them His commands.  My family is my first mission field.  If I'm completely honest, it is one of the main reasons I home school. That in this life, sure, our career is important, that our college choice matters, good school districts are fine, but all that pales in comparison to our walk with Christ.  When it all comes down to it, there is nothing more important in my role as a parent than modeling and encouraging for my children an authentic relationship with Jesus, and I simply can't do that if I don't have one myself.

My experiences parenting my sweet little ones have shown me what humility (never ever say never when it comes to parenting) and complete dependence on God look like.  When I had the nerve to pray that God would humble me, He blessed me with children.  When I asked Him to help me understand grace, He blessed me with children.  When I asked Him to help me understand what His love for me is like, He blessed me with children.  God is using parenting like so many other experiences to mold me into the woman He wants me to become.  And just as He's called me into the most rewarding but difficult phase of my life, I can rest in the assurance that He will equip me for whatever challenges A and C decide to hurl my way, both literally and figuratively.  It is in the most difficult parenting moments where God brings me to the end of myself because that's exactly where He's leading me because it is only there where I become completely dependent on Him.  It is from that place where He empowers and equips me to teach my children what true dependence on God looks like, what a true relationship with Christ resembles.  Through the tantrums, the lines in the sand, the explosion of giggles when science projects go bad, broken hearts, soccer successes, beach trips, long talks after books are read and the lights are out, and all of those special parenting joys, my prayer is that I can guide my children closer to the One who blesses us with each moment.

Birthday Wish

One week from today is my birthday.  I'll be 38.  Thirty-eight isn't an age that elicits a huge celebratory response, but nevertheless I love my birth date.  There's swimming, the release of blockbuster movies, lightning bugs, crickets, longer days, and a few days before, there's usually a big fireworks display to get people fired up for my big day; oh, wait, that's America's birthday, but how many of you can boast that you and America share the same birth month?

My hubby, best friend, and July birthday buddy

Thirty-eight, like 37, evokes more of an, "Oh, today's your 38th birthday.  Well, happy birthday."  Thirty-eight is twenty years past 18, two from 40.  From what I hear 40 is kind of a big deal.  I've been told it's when everything starts to fall apart, but if the aches and pains from spending two nights on a rickety, metal bunk bed at church camp with my daughter are any indication, I've apparently gotten a head start.  Like all birthdays, this birthday has evoked a myriad of emotions and reflection.  At 38, my skin isn't quite as glowing as it was even last year; my love handles are providing an even more ample gripping surface than before; my eyesight, well, let's say it rivals bats, but unfortunately, echolocation doesn't come with age.  Yet, this year, instead of counting wrinkles, I'm vowing to count blessings.

The Holy Spirit has taken me on quite a journey this past year.  One year ago on my birthday, I had no idea that God would lead me to two books, 7 and Interrupted; two books that would turn my world on its head and would rip the safe, comfortable rug of casual Christianity right out from under my complacent feet.  I can truly say that I enter 38 with a much different perspective than I began 37.  As I stand on the threshold of a new year, I'm eager to see how Christ continues to move me and to change me in the coming year.  Not one to travel alone, this year, I'm actually hoping to encourage a few of you to join me on the journey to living on mission.  I'm just getting started and have a long road ahead, but I promise if you come along, you'll never be the same.

God has opened my eyes to the plight of the poor this past year.  Books like 7, Half the Sky, and Radical have shed light on the immensely disproportionate gap between the haves and the have-nots in this world.  Both reveal the depths and devastation of abject poverty that exist around the globe, not just poverty of material need but also a poverty of spiritual well-being and hope.  While we think we may know poverty, consider that half the world lives on less than $2 a day with no safety net from their government.  There are billions of people dying without clean water, without adequate sustenance, and without Jesus.  In fact, someone dies of hunger every 16 seconds (Hatmaker). Back in December, the Holy Spirit gave me the idea of asking, not for gifts for Christmas but for donations.  Gifts is certainly not my love language, but I know it is the love language of many relatives and friends, so I decided not to rob them of the joy and instead put the idea away for my birthday seven months later.

Well, it is seven months later, and a few weeks ago, I excitedly asked my siblings to make donations to one of my favorite causes in lieu of gifts.  First of all, there is absolutely nothing that I truly need, and second, how awesome to know that in celebration of my birth, God is using my siblings' gifts to give hope and possibly, eternal life, to someone half-way across the globe.  I'm sharing this not for accolades or pats on the back.  I'm sharing this because I want all of us to consider this year on our birthday, or for a family member or friend's birthday, to relinquish a gift or two and request that your friends and family give to someone in need instead.  Notice, I didn't ask all of my family to replace my usual gift card request with a donation, but I chose my siblings because I felt comfortable asking them, they always ask me what I want, and I knew they would honor my request.  I also asked my mom for a gift card to an amazing company called Noonday that creates beautiful accessories and scarves, while providing women and men in impoverished villages a steady income (noondaycollection.com). You can even shop and help; is there a better combination?  Whatever we choose, together we can create a ripple that travels around the world and into the future and possibly, eternity.

Where can I give, you ask?  Well, because I'm the almost-birthday girl, I'm going to shamelessly plug a few of my favorites.  I would love for you to sponsor a child from Compassion or World Vision in honor of your birthday. I also love Matthew 28, which provides for orphans in Haiti.  A bonus:  I know one of the founders and can personally vouch for his deep love for Christ and for his fellow neighbor (www.matthew28.org). Another favorite is Samaritan's Purse (www.samaritanspurse.org).  Samaritan's Purse is unique in that it provides for hundreds of specific needs in hundreds of countries.  One of the struggles Christ has really shown me this past year is the plight of women in countries such as India and Cambodia, where young girls are often trafficked as slaves.  It truly is the most deplorable situation you can imagine, and women face it daily.  Twenty-seven million children and adults are currently trapped in slavery because of economic crisis, so I asked my siblings to give specifically to a program through Samaritan's Purse that provides a way out for these women, many of whom are still children (http://www.samaritanspurse.org/donation-items/children-in-crisis/).  You can also give to provide wells and fresh drinking water throughout Africa and Central America.  Samaritan's Purse also works with storm and fire victims right here in the United States.   What I love about all of the charities I've mentioned here is that they also provide the Bread of Life, Jesus Christ, who provides the only true hope to the hopeless.

I also like Kiva, which provides microfinancing to individuals in developing countries (www.kiva.org).  This allows individuals to create small businesses which support their families.  I cannot overestimate the potential these small loans have on not just the individuals receiving them but also the communities and even the countries where these individuals live.  I have invested in two companies in India, and the process is simple and as inexpensive as $25 per loan.  That goes a long way in Uganda, Haiti, and India.  The loans are eventually paid back, and you can cash out or use the money to provide another loan, so it's a low risk venture with remarkable benefits. Where else can you invest the cost of a week of Starbucks and absolutely change the lives of men and women in desperate situations?  These micro-loans can actually help eliminate some of the conditions that force individuals into slavery.  Imagine the impact and the doors opened to share Christ in the places receiving these loans. Imagine the hope you give to someone struggling to provide the most basic necessities for her children!

These are just a few ideas.  Donations tend to be down in summer because most of us give around Christmas.  Local shelters and ministries always need assistance.  Many of us probably know someone who is raising money for an adoption.  A local couple creates beautiful crosses and is selling them to raise adoption funds (http://jennyandbrooksadoptioncrosses.blogspot.com/).  I have several in my home and have also given them as gifts.  They even come in pink, as my daughter can attest.  Need exists everywhere; we need only slow down long enough to notice.  I say that to myself as much as I say it to you.  I had lived 37 years pursuing my own desires, rarely considering Matthew 25 or Isaiah 58.  Not that I ignored others; I was active in a church with a very mission-oriented vision, but I just didn't "get it," yet.  Praise God that I asked Him in prayer one day to break my heart for what breaks His.  My life hasn't been the same since.

So often, we're handed a beautifully wrapped scarf or pair of earrings, and for a moment, we're thrilled.  As time passes, the gift is added to the collection of scarves gathering dust and the drawer of earrings tarnishing among the tens of others.  Not to take away from the beauty of the gift or the intent but at some point, when is enough stuff enough stuff.  Imagine if our family and friends honored us on our birthdays by fulfilling Christ's call to help the least of these, while also following His command to fulfill the Great Commission.  We've already been given the perfect gift, Jesus, and He made the ultimate sacrifice that by faith and through His grace, we can have the most amazing gift of eternal life.  This year, I invite you to use your birthday as a starting point for creating a legacy that outlives your life.