Family

Losing Some Battles, Homeschoolers? Let’s Aim To Win These 4 Long-Term Wars

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

If our goal is win long-term wars, we will lose short-term battles.

As homeschoolers, we lose many short-term culture battles because the system is not designed for us.

Take swimming, for example.

I signed one daughter up for a private swim lesson, one-on-one with a teacher. Then, wait – I noticed they offered private swim lessons for up to two students. I decided to throw both kids into the pool.

“Oh, Ma’am,” the lifeguard explained apologetically, “we can’t take both of your children simultaneously because they aren’t in EXACTLY THE SAME swim level. The rule is that for a private swim lesson with a MAXIMUM of two students, both kids must be at EXACTLY the same swim level.

As homeschool parents, our brains go into culture shock.

EVERYTHING WE DO, ALL DAY, EVERY DAY HAS TO BY DEFINITION, be tailored to teach multiple students at various levels.

I found myself wanting to explain how to homeschool.

“Oh, come ON!” I wanted to say. The younger kid will undoubtedly learn a BIT of the more complex swim stroke if not the same proficiency! Undoubtedly, the older kid can do a BIT of review and maybe brush up on the nuances of a swim stroke while the younger one gets the main idea.

But if I were to speak, the words would go around the ears and over the head of the lifeguard. These words cannot penetrate -be understood. Two cultures have made their way to the front lines of the battlefield and only one culture wins this war.

I placed only one child in private swim lessons.

Inwardly, I laugh hysterically at the idea that two children of slightly different skill levels can’t be taught simultaneously. But my morale plummeted a little because I lost another battle. We lose a lot of short-term culture battles as homeschooling parents.

We must decide which long-term wars we are ultimately strategizing to win.

I propose the following:

1. We strategize to win the war of, when kids have left home, having kind children.

2. We strategize to win the war of having VERY intelligent children.

But they may look like idiots according to middle school report cards (losing a battle) when we are aiming for high SAT scores at graduation (ultimate war to win). “What is she going on about now?” you ask. I’ll explain next time.

3. We strategize to win the war of having passionate and engaged young adults.

For example, consider this post. We don’t kill our children’s natural God-given drive to learn. Similarly, the Homeschool Legal Defence Association found homeschooled students to be particularly diverse, tolerant and civically engaged.

4. We strategize to win the war of having the strength and wisdom, as parents, to finish the race of homeschooling for as long as this is the best option for our family.

In the interim, though, we are in our cocoons and so we are losing cultural battles all over the place, or at least it appears that way since we are blind for a while to what truly matters. Our goal is to win the long-term war of living in alignment with our most authentic intuition of a good life (although the good life almost kills us).

When our transformation finally arrives, and our identity is formed by how God (not our culture) sees us, homeschooling parents can finally relax and have fun.

Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.

The Message

Then, our children can survive the most important, long-term wars.

What wars are you preparing your kids for, getting them dressed in armor for, hoping they will survive the fight?

Jesus, give us wisdom, we pray. May we look at each of our children and at our culture, using the glasses You use to look through. And may we strategize well so that our children will win the most important wars. And strengthen us for this challenging journey of parenting and of standing up and of walking upriver in the strong tide of our culture, we pray.

May Your Kingdom Come.

Living Joyfully – Be A Liar, Nutcase, And Tyrant!?

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

So one day I’m sitting on the couch, head in hands, overwhelm consuming me.

The next day I’m dancing.

What was the path that took me from there to here?

Good question!

I’m glad you asked.

Here are the key stepping stones that led me across the river, onto a narrower path, without so many hurdles.

1. Pretend to be sick when you aren’t

What I mean is, if a few sniffles and a “headache” can help your kids bring you tea, quietly close the door behind them, and get all their homeschooling work (mostly) done in a hurry to “help” you out, then isn’t that just a helpful parenting strategy?

Yes, they may play a few more video games that day, but sometimes we have to negotiate with the enemy (is there perhaps a more precise word here?)!

And how do we need fewer “emotionally unstable” or “sick” days? This is the obvious question we want to ask ourselves as the mature adults that we are. We don’t want to HAVE to lie (I prefer the term “play pretend”) to our kids quite so often. What I’ve learned is the following:

2. Try not to be such a nutcase

Oh, come ON, admit it! You ARE a nutcase, too! I haven’t met even ONE homeschooling parent, for example, who didn’t start this way.

We start our homeschooling adventure with our new homeschooling planners (I have paid up to $99.99 for mine – a VERY expensive calendar with a bunch of blank paper inside).

We ALL start with our new, sharp pencils and energy overflowing from within. We purchase a shiny new curriculum or textbook and dutifully divide the book into 36 weeks, the total number of weeks in a school year. When we have completed this exercise with our stack of texts, we wipe the sweat from our brow and think – GREAT! I know EXACTLY what my kids will be learning on March 16, next year!

We pour ourselves a martini and wait for the homeschooling year to start.

What we forgot is that we are teaching little Machiavellis.

We also forgot that we are nutcases, and unfortunately, for 99.999% of us, we OVER-estimated our kids and our energy levels after Christmas.

Plus, they STILL cry every day when we do math.

And we are still in our pyjamas.

Another “sick” day, anyone?

Noooooo! That’s not for you!

We listen. We reattach our ears. We get down on our knees and humbly beg our God to give us wisdom in parenting in exchange for the promises each curriculum provides (none of it works anyway).

We ask for ONE or maybe TWO areas of prayer for each child. Oh, and for us.

God’s priorities will not be those we choose for our kids. We prioritize hockey and extra math lessons so that EVERY KID born in this country will be in the NBA (or whatever the popular sports leagues are) and have myriad universities begging them to attend.

Instead, we humbly exchange our vanity, linked to our child’s successes, for God’s chosen priorities for them.

And His priorities for us are interior postures of the heart, a heart sickness within each of our kids, and in us to focus on. Lying? Selfishness? Bickering? Jealousy?

Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

The Message

The other stuff comes.

Look at our family. We stink at looking good when we are homeschooling, and yet even our children have astonishing accolades! Maybe that’s just because homeschooling kids give hope to our culture.

Whatever.

The point is that when they leave the house, you’ll suddenly realize it matters a lot more than you initially thought that your kids are kind instead of culturally amazing. And then the nut doesn’t fall far from the tree! Just like a clean house, exceptional kids lacking in character are DEFINITELY overrated.

3. Become a tyrant

It’s the kids who are born as tyrants, but if you become a tyrant, there is order in the home. Then the true skill we need to learn next is how to become a tyrant to ourselves. We need to grow in the skill of bossing OURSELVES around.

When we show up at a paid job, in our office clothes and clipboard, we say “Yes Ma’am!”, do what we are told, then come home exhausted and put our feet up.

But when we show up on our first day of homeschooling, for example, no terrifying boss threatens to fire us each day.

It’s easy for us and our kids to stay in our pyjamas.

Learning to manage our own time is a skill.

Shout out to Mystie Winckler, who helped me a lot here.

Essentially, what is the MINIMUM work that needs to get done by my kids and by me? CHECKING my kid’s work is MY JOB I need to do, whether I feel like it or not. How am I doing with that job?

And if you find you are in overwhelm again? No problem, dear friend.

1. Declare another sick day!

2. Pray a LOT!

3. Learn a couple of tangible skills to proactively manage the ship!

It’s all about rhythms, and this is your rhythm, Mom, Dad.

Don’t give up!

You’re welcome!

Good luck!

A Geyser of Intuition Suggested Homeschooling – Top 9 Hints To Listen For

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

When do we jump from a sinking ship and when do we bail frantically to save our lives?

When do we decide that the public school system is broken enough that it can’t be fixed and jump ship to homeschooling? When do we stay in the school system, attend PTA meetings and volunteer as a playground supervisor? When do we put our kids in the public school system and do our best to bail out the ship?

How am I supposed to know?

But who wants to screw up their kids?

When my soul welled up with reasons to seriously consider homeschooling, flooding cultural expectations for my life, this is some of what it said:

1. Before we had kids, I would hear something about homeschooling and a random tear would erupt, sliding slowly down my cheek. What was going on? (If you have a lump in your throat right now, you’re done for. Just sayin’. Stay in your pyjamas today to get used to it because you should be homeschooling soon.)

2. A kid tried to beat me up on my way home from school in Grade 3. What was that about? I was “the kindest, most empathetic person” a teacher had “encountered in a long time” (verbatim wording from my report card). Is there any way to spare our kids from UNNECESSARY pain?

Sure, they WILL experience pain, but if we know they will get beat up with a baseball bat emotionally, spiritually or (even) physically day after day, can we at not, at least, flip a coin to see if there are other ways to learn the alphabet?

3. And there were those times when I would walk home from grocery shopping with my mom, hand in hand. We would sing songs. This was most cherished memory of my childhood.

It wasn’t expensive. It wasn’t complicated. How could we live to have a few more of those kinds of moments?

4. Then I read the parenting classic Hold Onto Your Kids by Neufeld and Mate. Their words were a confirmation, like check marks on my intuition. Maybe we AREN’T supposed to structure society so that kids and teens spend most of their time with people exactly the same age as them.

5. And what if some of the ideas we hold dear as a culture, the general beliefs, are wrong? If another culture’s beliefs are (obviously to us) wrong, some of our culture’s commonly held beliefs WILL BE wrong too. Which ones?

Maybe the way we currently do school?

6. Maybe kids DON’T need the latest cultural clothing styles as defined by other kids their same age. Maybe a second-hand sweater will do.

7. Maybe kids don’t need their own menus of sugar and hyper-processed foods. Healthy food habits WILL get pulled down to an outlandish level in a culture of extreme bizarreness, of kids eating two-thirds of their diet as highly processed foods. As much as we wax on about eating healthily, stepping into another culture, home, where everyone eats a bowl of soup at lunch is a realistic way to instil normal food habits.

Oh, and this may even help heal various diagnoses, as it did in our home, and as science is increasingly suggesting.

8. It’s COMMON but perhaps not NORMAL for pre-pubescents to ideate about sex. If you are ready to be challenged about this, check out The Disappearance of Childhood by Neil Postman, which was written 40 YEARS ago. Ouch.

Schools are increasingly mimicking the culture of Brave New World (so my middle school substitute teacher friend asserts), but it’s our kids who suffer there.

9. The cons of both homeschooling and public schooling swam around my thoughts.

It was time for us to jump ship, to swerve onto a narrower road. How about you? Is it time for your family to jump ship? Do you sense the pull of your heart towards giving homeschooling a try?

We have to wean ourselves off the cultural drugs that addict us to the wrong desires first.

Our status in society may drop precipitously. We will have to pick up a new identity, one others may gawk at. The old identity, defined by perhaps lots of stuff, expensive vacations, and value in corporate America (i.e. a job in exchange for money!) may no longer stick with us.

Welcome to the wild ride!

Prepare to be scared, and to laugh, and to cry. But God will cheer you on from the sidelines, give you food to strengthen, and usher in your transformation.

Because this spiritual journey isn’t just for our kids.

Cmon! Let’s go!

Here’s some food to strengthen you for the journey.

Blogpost Footnotes

Since this post was written, a teen in our community died from a drug overdose. Also, I received a text from a local nurse that youth age 12 – 14 using meth is the new normal. Sheltering kids for a few more years, using whatever resources are available to us, is becoming increasingly important.

Oh, and homeschooling is the cool, new thing, and we should always try to fit in, right?

The Dark Abyss Is Where Joy Can Be Found

/ Lori Lawe / 2 Comments

This is the hand that reached way, way down, clasped my own and lifted me up, up out of my self-induced pit.

It was a hand connected to a person who gave me a hug and a pat on the back. He told me He was pleased with me.

And then He asked me to go back to the trenches, back to where I was.

Why? Just because we are at war doesn’t mean our role is to give up the fight.

He put a slip of paper in my hand before he held out the rope to lower, lower me back down the pit, back down to the kids with their swirling needs and to a dog with multiple dietary discomforts.

When I returned to the couch and to the kids and the dog that day, I held the folded slip of paper He had given me in my hand.

I opened it carefully and somehow the room quieted in my soul, even through the sharp noises of bickering kids and an excited dog.

So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit.

The Message

The words seemed to dissipate the storm cloud over my head. Was that sunlight breaking through? I looked up.

“Can you help me up off the couch?” I asked, looking up at Him. And He did.

And He tied my favorite shoes on my feet, the ones I thought I had lost. The shoes meant for dancing.

I already had my apron on, the one that I wear when I work.

And His gaze pointed to the next job, one that we would do together, Him at my side, the arm I held onto for balance.

And then, after the kids and I cleaned up a bit, and I cleaned myself up a bit, our homeschooling family read a book together on the couch.

The book I love that I longed to introduce to my children.

When she was hardly more than a girl, Miss Minnie had gone away to a teacher’s college and prepared herself to teach by learning many cunning methods that she never afterward used. For Miss Minnie loved children and she loved books, and she taught merely by introducing the one to the other.

That Distant Land by Wendell Berry

And then we did some math.

And when the kids were tucked into bed that night, after dreaming longingly of martinis for a while, I poured out my heart to God.

And He got a big red pen, the one that I use on my kids to edit their writing, and He edited my life.

This has got to go. This too. And this.

He gave me one or two things to focus on this season, one for each child and one for me.

And it got a little easier.

I was the one who needed to change, to tweak our homeschooling life so that joy could erupt through the cracks of the brokenness of our lives a little more often.

Thank you, God, for the hard times.

For only then am I broken and quiet enough for You to usher in my transformation.

Consider asking God what wounds He wants you to lift to Him so He can remove the bandaid to allow light to shine through the scar, blinding others so they too, may seek their healing.

Don’t Despair! The Monster Scaring You Is Only February!

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

Head in hands again. Trying to shut out the noise. The kids with their needs swirling around me.

We are homeschooling in February.

I sat on the couch, overwhelm consuming me. Do I declare (another) fun day and take the kids cross-country skiing?

Should we call all our homeschooling friends and organize (another) hockey party on the free outdoor ice rink?

Do I give them as much “independent work” as I can and try to tackle the mess of stuff in the basement, the pile that seems to have acquired a life of its own and that roars at me as I pass like a Yeti in the basement?

Or do I confront the emotions in my heart that are spilling out onto the couch next to me, a mess I am trying to hide but that is emerging despite my best efforts to pretend I am confidently steering this homeschooling ship?

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to hide behind the fun. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that our home is so disorganized that we can no longer find pencils to do our math. Or that no one cares. “I like using a green pencil crayon for math, Mommy!” she asserts.

She is not trying to make me feel better. She is genuinely happy. Her needs are met.

And mine?

“I’m not worried about the kids,” my husband would assert. “I’m worried about you.”

So I offer you tea and a listening ear, dear homeschooling Mom and Dad, and ask:

How are you?

Not how are your kids?

Not how is the state of your home (We know it’s a disaster. You homeschool!)

How are you?

People who suppress feelings experience less positive and more negative emotions.

APA PsycNet

And then your tears, and your head in hands, and I put my arm around you to comfort you.

Husbands, put on a helmet first and then TRY asking your wives if PMS is real.

You know the answer, or you will find out soon enough.

Similarly, the homeschooling in February blues is real.

I want to propose (shout out to Mystie Winckler for the essence of this paragraph’s wisdom!) that the path we walk through the regular monthly cycling of our emotions gives us a hint for how we walk through the annual cycling of our feelings during the homeschooling year.

And February is hard.

Now, I know that you don’t have time for a dissertation. Your child is pulling your arm already, something is burning on the stove, and you have dog vomit to clean up, but you need some help. Now.

Don’t quit homeschooling in February.

If you take the advice of the sentence above, then go! Go and get through the day! Well done, Mom and Dad!

If you have another 5 minutes, here is an explanation for the statement above.

When sailors would navigate using the stars, how would they do it? They would choose their course on a cloudless, moonlit night. “I am heading north-east,” they would assert, and set their hearts and sails in that direction.

On a cloudy night, when the stars were invisible, and they didn’t know which way to go, what did they do?

They kept sailing in the same direction.

February, head in our hands month, is a cloudy night, desolation.

Ignatius describes desolation as “. . . darkness of soul, . . . the unquiet of different agitations and temptations, . . . when one finds oneself . . . as if separated from his Creator and Lord.” . . .

Ignatius warns us that someone in desolation should never change an important decision . . . made when they were in a state of consolation.

The Jesuit Post

Keep sailing in the same direction.

How do you do it? How do you survive one more day, you ask desperately? I’ll give you some tips, held like cherished gems in my pocket from long years on the sea, at another time, friend, because our time together has ended for today.

But oh, desolation is an opportunity for our growth.

May you reach your destination.

However, you may not end up where you thought you were sailing.

That is His way.

The “Unwanted” Baby Is Wanted By All?

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

I’m wiping the tears from my eyes again.

It was movie and popcorn night. We watched UnPlanned, the astonishing, true story of Planned Parenthood Director Abby Johnson’s journey across the line from Choice to Life.

We were all undone.

As my tiny and insignificant contribution to this whirlwind topic of our day, like a feather battling a windstorm, I include below a poem I wrote.

May our prayers reach the ear of God, that the prevailing cultural winds would change direction and blow the feather toward God again and again and again . . . we pray.

Lord, have mercy on us, all of us, for we are a sinful people.

And may we pause to consider the following:

Simon Peter [who] . . . fell to his knees before Jesus. “Master, leave. I’m a sinner and can’t handle this holiness. Leave me to myself.”

The Message

and

If . . . my people, my God-defined people, respond by humbling themselves, praying, seeking my presence, and turning their backs on their wicked lives, I’ll be there ready for you: I’ll listen from heaven, forgive their sins, and restore their land to health.

The Message

They Say She’s Not Wanted

They say she’s not wanted in this world.

Yet I’ve seen her mom, belly swelled in mystical expectation, nervously meeting prospective adoptive parents for the first time. Tears flowed on all sides at the first introduction, bonded somehow at the initial meeting. I’ve chatted with her mom many times while she lay curled up in the womb.

My heart broke for her mom because she could not raise her now.

I met her birth grandma and cried with her over the expectation of the first grandchild in the family.

The fulfillment of a grandmother’s dreams was not that the child would be whisked from her arms before they would know each other well. “You take good care of her,” the grandmother whispered to the adoptive mother through tears.

I’ve met her birth father.

A boy-man, wearing the tough guy mask in front of his friends and family. I sat with him while he, head in hand, sobbed a mountain of anguished tears, knowing that her birth mom could not stay with him forever and be the family unit that he dreamed of.

I’ve cried with him too.

I’ve also met them – the crowds of families, with polished faces and pages full of dreams in shiny dossiers, cartwheeling over each other in efforts to impress. They plead, “Please pick us. We want her. We want to be her family. Oh, won’t you please pick us?”

I know them because I was also a member of one of those families. And our family was chosen. And oh, how the aching in our hearts was finally filled with love and gratitude for this cherished life.

Thank you, birth mothers, birth fathers, and birth grandparents, for standing firm in love and truth, regardless of the shifting sand of popular opinions.

We honor you, and we love you.

Thank you for placing your child in the arms of a family who will love and care for her.

Thank you for allowing this child to thrive in the healing love of all of us in her extended birth families and her extended adoptive family.

And we share a secret, don’t we?

Even if they don’t know it, we know these children are wanted by MORE people than can be counted.

The Best Way To Be Less of A Jerk? Pretend To Be Someone Else!

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

I found myself still in pajamas, curlers in my straight hair, yelling at my homeschooled kids to get up, get dressed, and get to their work!

The only problem was that I hadn’t done any of those things yet.

They pointed out my inconsistencies and went back to playing Nintendo, their little pajamaed butts mocking me as they lay on their stomachs, resuming their play.

Why did I bother teaching my kids logic, I wondered, wearily. Now their reasoning skills match mine.

I needed a bigger bullet to fight in this homeschooling war.

I scoured books, and homeschooling journals, and cried with my fellow homeschooled moms, all of whom were also still in their pyjamas. They could relate with empathy.

The best military strategy I found was to:

1) Get up early,

2) Get dressed, and

3) Put on lipstick, a nice scarf, and a smile.

In other words, I was pretending to be someone else.

By default, I had been acting like Mrs. Name-changed, the Grade 1 teacher I didn’t like. Mrs Name-changed always forgot to wear deodorant and to mark our assignments. She was always in a bad mood.

Then I remembered my favorite Grade 3 teacher, Mrs. Chamberlain. She looked nice every day and had a sweet smile.

If Mrs Chamberlain had some characteristics that I wanted to emulate, then I needed to choose those same characteristics until those traits became a part of my identity too.

The question is:

Who Are We Becoming?

I chose Mrs. Chamberlain.

And it worked!

My kids’ logic that “I wasn’t doing it either” was finally cancelled, and they reluctantly put Nintendo away, meandering to their rooms to find their (non-pajama) clothes, unused these past 3 months, since homeschooling started this fall.

And what is the lesson, here, I wondered, as I sipped martinis by the pool later that afternoon, ringing a small bell to usher them onto their next subject?

The lesson is best summarized in a popular TED talk by Psychologist Amy Cuddy. She said our BODIES change our MINDS (our thoughts and feelings). Therefore, we can:

“Fake it until you BECOME it. Do it enough until you actually BECOME it, and internalize it.”

Amy Cuddy

The lesson is, WHO ARE YOU?

But friends, that’s exactly who we are: children of God. And that’s only the beginning. Who knows how we’ll end up! What we know is that when Christ is openly revealed, we’ll see him—and in seeing him, become like him. All of us who look forward to his coming stay ready, with the glistening purity of Jesus’ life as a model for our own.

The Message

When we understand who we are, we have a shot at becoming aligned with who God created us to be.

Time to switch off the iPads, stop scrolling through Amazon for more stuff to fill the void inside, and dig out the royal clothes that are in the very back of your closet, the ones God gave you so long ago, that you forgot they were even there.

Then:

1) Let’s get up early and rest in who God made us to be instead of running in frenzied circles like everyone else.

2) Let’s put on our royal robes as children of the King, our true identity.

3) Let’s gaze at the One who gives us His identity as we align our lives with what He is whispering to the deepest recesses of our hearts.

So let’s step into the truth of who we really are, the ones Jesus died for, and the ones who have found our identity, which is those who abide with Him. And this identity is enough.

As the music below plays, consider asking God, “How do You see me?”

If We Laugh More, We Can Dominate Others More!

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

I was frustrated, kicking the ground as I walked. Homeschooling is impossible enough without this additional hurdle lying prostrate before me. I didn’t have enough speed to make it through the regular hurdles of life. . .

. . . nevermind this race I’m running strewn with toppled school desks, kid’s toys, and homeschooling supplies.

We did a personality test for a fun homeschooling project.

The results scared me to my core.

My daughter, the one who has been slowly asserting dominance over me every time my back has been turned since she was, oh, about two months old, has a personality that is – get this – most similar to a lion.

And my personality?

Not a lion tamer. Nope.

Not a blue whale, larger than life.

Not a great white shark, terrifying those within a several kilometre radius.

My personality, most unfortunately, given that I have a lion-like child trying to bite me whenever I’m not looking, is best compared to . . .

. . . a sweet and gentle creature whose favorite past time is to play.

My personality is most similar to that of an otter.

“And HOW is an otter supposed to lead a lion?” I yelled at God that day, kicking the path as I walked.

“All that kid wants to do is eat me!”

Try being David when your child is Goliath. Sure, it’s one thing to vanquish Goliath in a one-off contest using an unexpected weapon. But LEAD Goliath, David? Day after day? Good luck!

And that’s my job.

Also the strategy of “hide a bit and hope to survive until, oh, 8:30 am when the school bus comes each day” won’t work for me.

Nope.

This kid is with me 24/7.

We homeschool.

What was I thinking taking on this mammoth task?

“God!” I called out, my anger turned to desperation. “How is an otter supposed to parent a lion?”

And the picture He gave me in my mind that day as I walked changed everything.

The picture was of an otter, front legs straight out and entirely touching the ground, tail wagging.

Now pause here because this picture has meaning to dog owners. This is the position dogs assume to indicate it’s playtime.

And the rest of the picture?

The lion assumed the same pose, following the cues of the otter. Behind the roaring facade, she wanted to have fun.

She just didn’t know how.

Play with her, God whispered.

And I was given a tool that unlocked my daughter’s heart and opened a new parenting door for us, leading to a beautiful place.

I understood what He was whispering.

The lion will WILLINGLY submit to the otter so she can play.

The next day, when that little lion led me to an emotional place I never wanted to visit again, I stopped myself from following her lead.

I wasn’t in the mood to play.

But “Let’s play,” I announced.

I thought, “Let’s play a game where I try not to wring your little neck.”

But when I took the reigns, went with my natural strengths, and played with her, even though I didn’t feel like it, the little lion unwound herself and laughed a bit. And she hugged me.

And she was so dang cute that we played a little longer, and soon, I was having a great time, too.

I was leading again.

She naturally followed.

But this is the weird thing.

She came under my leadership for the rest of the day.

Fifteen minutes of play transformed her into a little lion-otter, expectantly waiting for me to help fun tickle her side at any moment.

And I made it through that homeschooling day.

Reflecting that night with a glass of wine, I asked my husband to promise to help me remember to proactively PLAY with my little lion so I could dominate her.

Er. . . LEAD her, I meant to write.

Whatever.

The point is that God has a solution to our EVERY problem.

And who knows? Maybe this strategy would work in other situations?

Try it with your boss. Tell him he’s a loser, and then laugh. See if you get that promotion after all!

You’re welcome!

Good luck!

God, thank you that our mammoth problems are tiny piles of sand to You, that can be blown away with one breath of Your Spirit. Speak to us and remind us to hide beneath Your wings, the place where You hand out both love for us, and wisdom for our myriad challenges, we pray.

He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.

Ancient Text

The Best Christmas Was The Most Painful Christmas

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

I held my head in my hands, the non-physical pain consuming me, twisting my body to reflect my inner state.

The mother placed the baby in my arms and spoke of WHEN I took her home, enveloped her in our family. This baby was the gift that came no less miraculously than a child that emerges, astonishingly from one’s own womb. Except she traversed from God, through another’s womb, through the arms of another mother, into my arms.

And like a child ripped from her mother’s arms, she was taken from my arms and placed in another home.

We were pleased that the child would be taken care of, her needs met, thrive in a loving home.

And yet the pain in our hearts was only partially placated.

Every human soul carries its own pain within.

A loved one passes, an illness, a broken relationship, broken dreams, general ennui, desperation, hopelessness, despair. . . The waves of trouble that break over the human soul break us too, as our souls hit the rocks, making us bleed from the trials that have arrived on our doorstep, unbidden.

We open the door to today and the tidal wave of disappointment has arrived. We are left sitting on the floor alone in our world, unable to stand.

As we look around for a hand to help us up, something to hold onto, it seems hope is a long way away sometimes.

Can you see it?

I couldn’t either.

And then Christmas knocks on our door with the request to give to the needy, to distract ourselves with shallow merrymaking, to make ourselves sick with food that is sweet in the mouth and cancerous to the bones.

“Is this all there is?” we ask, our Santa hats adorning our heads in an effort to embrace the spirit of the season, our TV remote flipping from channel to channel, waxed chocolate at the fingertips.

Numb, again.

Another Christmas season has arrived, and we are numb.

No!

The old life is gone; a new life emerges!

The Message

That Christmas, the one when I could hardly breathe, I took off the old.

I crossed off the list of people that we were “supposed” to buy presents for. No more presents for friends, friend’s kids, extended family, parents, grandparents, my spouse. “And no presents for me,” I announced. We bought a few small gifts for a few children. And joy returned.

I crossed off the list the duty to make the Christmas treats I made every year, unthinkingly. I tried a few simple treats with a healthier spin. And joy returned.

I left the box of Christmas decorations in the basement unopened. When I finally gazed inside, I pulled out a few items that were handmade by friends or had sparked a particular delight, or a cherished memory. And joy returned.

I said no to every party, to the ones we were expected to attend that were too loud, had too much drinking, and too much shallow joy. We had a couple of quiet celebrations with a handful of friends or family, and good food. And joy returned.

No more expectations. The old has gone.

And the new life emerging?

And like the caterpillar that makes time for the quiet of the chrysalis, we too made time for the quiet.

– Time in the quiet morning hours, seeking my King

– Time for Christmas church services, as we sought to awaken our senses to the awe of the season through the life of the babe in a manger

– Time for a hug or a smile or an understanding look, more, more often from those around me

I spent time every evening that season with our little toddler at the outdoor skating rink. The one that is free.

When we fell, we would laugh and then sit quietly together for a moment noticing how the lights rimmed the rink, peering through the darkness. I could almost discern the light of the season through those lights.

And like the lights shining in the darkness, at the skating rink that is free, His free gift of love burst through my heart a little more often in the quiet mornings, in the moments of quiet at the worship services, in the quiet smiles of those whose lives I stumbled across.

And each smile was like gazing into another’s soul because I took the extra moment to see them, to know that they too, being human, have heart wounds. Can my smile, my love, be a drop of healing ointment to them, as theirs is to me?

And it was the best Christmas of my life.

As the song plays, consider asking God: How can any anticipated pain of this Christmas season be transformed into joy?

The Best Places To Find Healthy Spiritual Food This Season (Healthy Habits Post 7)

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

I’m going to start this post by quickly summarizing three points from a previous post.

I’m doing this because this post isn’t quite long enough, so I’m repeating myself so that my posts are all about the same length, so I look like a professional blogger.

But I’m not supposed to tell you that because that is boring, but other stuff I say is boring too, and you still read that! (Perfect. This post is exactly the right length).

Ahem . . .

In a previous post, I gave three reasons to indicate we may be eating spiritual cotton candy when we thought we were at the spiritual feast. These three indicators are:

1. We’ve been to a church once and were decidedly underwhelmed.

2. We know a Christian but that person, Ned Flanders, is difficult to be around for long.

3. We’ve figured out church is for losers. Need I say more?

So where do we go to have the best shot at finding healthy spiritual food?

1. Ask where Holy Spirit is moving in your city. After they faint because you asked that question (C’mon! Shocking people is fun!) bring some popcorn and check out that church next week. Listen for God while you’re there.

2. Find a “real” Christian. The way to tell if someone is a “real” Christian? There is no way to tell for sure.

Christian behaviour can be put on like a mask… Spectators… will often break into applause. But there is no applause in heaven.…

Eugene H. Peterson

When you meet someone who is wholeheartedly following Jesus, you’ll know. Sorry. That’s all I got. Keep looking. They’re out there. And when you find them, take them out to lunch. And ask them questions. Don’t throw out your lunch before you’ve even eaten it. Food is waiting for you, too.

3. Hang out with losers. Just because some Christians are losers, doesn’t mean they aren’t God’s children. But the same is true for you actually. When you stop sucking in your gut, stop pretending you’ve got your life together, you are on the right, narrow, spiritual path.

The path to the one who is truth is found by telling the truth.

Knowing we are losers, and stopping trying to be impressive is actually one step towards true spiritual food. 

Jesus is the glorious one. 

Not us. 

Yep, they’re losers at church. Get over it. We’re here to see Jesus, not them. (And not you either. Praise God.)

“Father, I want those you gave me to be with me, right where I am, so they can see my glory, the splendor you gave me . . .”

Jesus Christ

4. Wake up! Now that you know you’re a starving loser, I hope you turn your attention to Holy Spirit right now. He’s here beside you right now. He’s been tapping your shoulder your entire life but you may not have noticed yet.

“Hungry?” he’s asking. “Come to the feast, child,” he offers, holding out an outstretched arm. Will you take one small step down the road toward tasting the only food that truly satisfies . . .?

If so, try feasting on this. If you don’t have spiritual teeth yet to enjoy chewing this food, don’t fret, but try drinking this milk instead.

But don’t ask for milk the way my daughter did here. That’s just rude.

God, help us to follow the scent of fresh bread and other delicious foods to find the feast. May we not go hungry for You again this season, we pray.