Going Home Part II, Family

 When my first granddaughter, Lauren, was born, I realized God had fulfilled Psalm 128:6 in my life: 

“Yea, thou shalt see thy children's children . . .” 

In my last blog post, “There's Something Magical About Going Home,” I promised to share a few stories and pictures from my recent trip to Bristol, Rhode Island. Today’s post, “Going Home Part II—Family” tells the best part of the story. Perhaps I should have saved it for last, but I couldn’t wait to share the smiles. 


When it puts its best face forward, family gives us a glimpse of what heaven is going to be like. Leisurely meals around the table, familiar stories, and lots of hugs and laughter. Unfortunately, these extended family events are becoming more and more rare, especially now that our daughters are married and have begun families of their own. When the planets align, the earth tilts perfectly on its axis, and everyone’s busy schedules overlap, we occasionally manage to gather in one place. Most of the time, however, we visit in smaller groups. 

My recent trip to Rhode Island was uniquely special, because four generations of women from my immediate family met in my hometown—my mom, myself, my daughters, and my granddaughters. 

Four generations, ranging in age from 72 to 1. 

In addition to the miracle of gathering with my immediate family, my mom and her two cousins, daughters of three siblings who sailed from the Azores with their mother in 1919, also had opportunities to visit. Now that their mothers have passed away, (the youngest died at 94-1/2 and the oldest at 98), these women have taken their places as the matriarchs of our family. 

I, one generation distant, watched them with an objectivity they didn’t have. With every smile, laugh, and gesture, I saw glimpses of the women who birthed them. One cousin has her mother’s high cheekbones and soft voice. The other has her mom’s keen mind and love for learning. Watching two cousins’ hands cradle steaming cups of coffee, I noticed that they were identical. One pair of hands had traveled the world, while the other had stayed close to home, but they were similarly beautiful. 

The irony that, two generations later, we again have a sailor in the family escaped no one. One day my son-in-law invited us to have lunch with him at the Officers’ Club in Newport. Driving through the gates of the base transported my mother back to a younger time when life was simple and romance blossomed. 

“Your father took me here once,” she said. Her eyes crinkled at the memory of her handsome sailor. “Some nights he’d have to walk back to base after he took me home—or hitchhike, because we’d talked for so long he missed the last bus. What in the world did we talk about?” 

Showing my hometown to my children, son-in-law, and grandchildren gave me the opportunity to put flesh on the bones of my life. When they saw the spiral staircase in the Rogers Free Library, they understood why I spent more time there than anywhere else. When they stood at the stone wall that encircles Bristol Harbor, they knew why it was my favorite place to write and think. When they rested in the shade of the tree-lined streets, smelled the salty sea air, and watched the sailboats skim across the bay, they understood why my eyes light up whenever anyone mentions Rhode Island. 

Visiting my hometown helps my family understand me. Visiting my hometown also helps me understand me. Remembering the sunny landscape covered in three feet of snow reminds me why I hate cold and love the South. Driving by the 864-foot home where our family of five lived explains why I’m so excited about having a bedroom big enough to fit a bed, a dresser, and a chair. Walking past the little apartment where my Granny lived reinforces my determination to be a wonderful grandmother just like she was. 

We don’t get to choose our family, and not every relationship within the circle is a happy one. Rose-colored glasses aside, families can be our greatest source of joy or our greatest source of pain. It’s my prayer today that whatever side of the pendulum you’re on, you’ll ask God to show you how to be the best family member you can be, for his glory. 

“A good man leaves an inheritance to his children's children” (Pro. 13:22).

CLICK HERE to read "Going Home, Part III, Food"

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Do You Have a Faith Your Children Want to Imitate?

"I want you to kill your child."

If anyone said they heard a voice tell them to do this, we'd trot them down to the local psychiatric hospital and place their children in protective custody. Rightly so.

Today I read about Abraham, one of the patriarchs of the Christian (and Jewish) faith. As I read the account of how God, in a test of Abraham's faith, called him to sacrifice his beloved son as an offering on Mt. Moriah, God showed me an aspect of this story that I have never seen before.

This is the text from Genesis 22:9-10. "When they reached the place God had told him about, Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood."

By this point, although they had traveled with servants, Abraham and Isaac were alone. They had left the servants and traveled the rest of the way to the summit by themselves. The chronology isn't precise, but we can estimate that Isaac was at least 13, perhaps older than that, because he was able to carry enough wood for a burnt offering on his back up the mountain.

This would make Abraham somewhere between 113 and 116 or so, and although he was strong enough to walk up a mountain, he was nowhere near as strong as his 13 to 16 year old strapping young son.

At some point Abraham had to reveal to Isaac what God had instructed him to do. The truth might have already been dawning on Isaac, because the text shows Isaac's train of thought.  He had watched his father sacrifice many times. He knew what was required.

Wood?

Check.

Fire?

Check.

Sacrifice?

Um. . . . .

"Dad? We have the wood. We have the fire. Where's the sacrifice?"

"God will provide a sacrfice."

The text says that Abraham bound Isaac and laid him on the altar.

Would your teenager let you tie him up and place him on an altar?

I believe Isaac voluntarily submitted. We know that Abraham, at the age of 116, certainly couldn't have wrestled him down and hog tied him. Do you know how strong 16 year old young men are? Do you know how strong 116 year old men aren't?

If your teenager had been Isaac, would he have let you tie him up and place him on an altar?

He would if he trusted you.

Better yet, he would if he trusted you and the God you followed.

And this, I believe, is one of the most important aspects of this great faith story. The Bible says that "Abraham believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness." Abraham's faith was strong enough to believe, as he told his servants, "We will worship and then we will come back to you"

"We will come back to you."

Isaac had lived with his father for 16 years. He had heard the stories of how God had called him out of Ur of the Chaldees to leave his home for a place he did not know. He heard stories of how God had shown him the stars of the sky and promised descendants when he had no children. He heard stories of how God had used Abraham to rescue Lot, how God blessed him and gave him the Son of Laughter in his old age. And he heard the stories of how God had promised to make a great nation of him, Isaac.

He had watched his father's faith walk. He had heard his father's faith stories. He had listened to his father pray in the night.

And he, Isaac, believed.

He believed to the point of action. He believed in his father and his father's God enough to stand still while his father bound him with ropes, laid him on an altar, and raised a knife to slay him.

As a Christian parent today, is your faith worth imitating?

Is your faith contagious? Is it radical enough that your children stand up and take notice? Is it genuine enough that they want it for themselves? Is it worth imitating?

Oh, God, that we might have a faith so rich and full and genuine that our children will want it for themselves, that they will want it more than life itself.

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In an Empty Nest, You Dust More than You Clean

You throw away leftovers instead of never having enough.

You turn the radio on for noise instead of turning it down for quiet.

You still buy a gallon of milk at a time, but find yourself giving half to the neighbors before it spoils.

You frequent Facebook to see glimpses of your college student instead of telling her that she shouldn't spend so much times posting pictures.

You pray more than you work, although prayer is the hardest work of all.

It is a different season of life.  Not all good, not all bad, just different.

My friend Cheryl shared a book with me that she found insightful and encouraging.  It's called Barbara and Susan's Guide to the Empty Nest -- Discovering New Purpose, Passion, and Your Next Great Adventure.  Its co-authors Barbara Rainey, of Family Life Today fame, and Susan Yates, a mother of five, come alongside their readers in empathy and identification with the realities of the empty nest.

What I appreciated about this book is that although they speak candidly from their own lives about the sad emotions that often come with launching their children out of their homes and into adult lives, they also share the other side of the coin. Empty nest time can be a time of great personal growth, opportunity, and adventure.

With chapters like "What do I do with my loneliness?," "What do I do with my disappointments?," "How do I relate to my husband now?," and "How do I relate to my adult kids now?," they discuss the realities of a home and a life in transition. 

In chapters such as "Celebrate!", "Discovering Your New Purpose," and "Changing Your World," they share the perspective that the empty nest season can be a wonderful time of life.

While I miss my young adult daughters' presence in my home greatly, I am also enjoying some of the freedoms of the pre-parenting years.  I enjoy spending uninterrupted time with my husband again. I like buying a tub of ice cream one day and knowing it will still be there the next. I like receiving phone calls from my girls  sharing the big things and the small. I like more time to write, and think, and pray.

I absolutely loved being a mother of young children.  I absolutely love being a mother of young adults. Each is a season of life that holds great potential, joy, and adventure if we seek God's face every day.

 I encourage you to pick up a copy of Barbara and Susan's Guide to the Empty Nest.  You'll be comforted, encouraged, and challenged to give your empty nest years to the Lord and watch what He will do in your life.

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Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!

It was Kristen who first gave voice to the thought.

"I want a baby sister, and her name will be Mary." She had been taking stock of the families with whom we went to church and had decided that something significant was missing from ours.  Everyone had a sibling but her. We agreed that it was a sad state of affairs.

We gave her a baby doll for Christmas, whom she promptly named. . . Mary. As if reading our minds, she looked us squarely in the eyes and said, ". . . just until the real Mary gets here."

"We'll have to pray and ask God to give us a baby," we told her. In her typical no-nonsense way, she was on it. Each night at bedtime she prayed, "Dear God, please send us a baby sister named Mary."

Several months later I wrote in my journal, "The night we found out about the baby, I think David called everyone from church to tell them. Kristen talks to the baby and prays for her.  We pray that she will be healthy, and that she will always love Jesus."

Over nineteen years have passed since those days of anticipation and joy. The years are filled with mental snapshots that flutter past like swiftly turning pages in the photo album of life.

A chubby cheeked, sweet-natured infant gazing up with amazement at her big sister.

A nine-month old cherub with a big pink bow on her bald little head as we handed her over to a team of doctors who would place tubes in her tiny little ears.

A serious little girl with a Dutch boy haircut selling lemonade by the side of the road.

A slender six-year old learning to swim with big gruff Coach Irwin whose voice always got softer and kinder when he spoke to "the little people."

A blonde adolescent, all arms and legs smiling through braces of every imaginable size and shape.

A lovely teen ager, becoming more and more beautiful, collecting friends everywhere she went.

And now. . .

I still see hints of the chubby cheeks and the laughing eyes, but they belong to a young woman who is becoming as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. She is growing in wisdom, grace, compassion, and faith. I have fewer opportunities to stroke her silky hair or plant a kiss on her soft cheek, but my prayer for her every day is the same as it has been for over nineteen years,

 "Lord, take care of her, keep her healthy, and may she always love Jesus."

Happy Birthday, sweet girl.  I love you!

Going with God -- More Thoughts on Sending a Child Off to College

I've lived most of my life without fear. I mean REAL fear -- the kind that makes your heart race, your knees weak, and your palms sweat.  Teaching my children to drive was an exception.  For the first time in years, I felt genuine fear-for-my-life-I-think-I-am-going-to-die fear.

I naturally assumed that the longer they drove with a licensed driver (me) in the car with them, the better drivers they would become.  Not so, said the driver's education manual. According to their research, students benefit greatly from having an older, more experienced driver coaching them through the ins and outs of learning to drive, but only to a point.

After that point, research showed, a new driver's ability to learn necessary decision making skills actually becomes hindered by having a coach in the car with them at all times. Studies showed that the student would become too dependent on the coach, and begin to rely on the coach's instruction instead of developing their own decision-making skills necessary to learn to navigate roads safely.

This principle applies to parenting as well. God entrusts children into the care of their parents for a season.  During those 18 or so years, it is the parents' privilege to teach them all they can about how to navigate the roads of life. We teach them practical skills, interpersonal skills, and spiritual skills.We teach them everything from how to feed themselves, to how to treat others, to how to maintain a relationship with God.  As best we can, we teach them all the skills they need to succeed in life.

And then we get out of the car and let them drive.

All by themselves.

It is necessary, and it is good.

What we as Christian parents know, though, is that they aren't really all by themselves.

They go with God.

God who will never leave them nor forsake them. God who walks the path ahead of them and prepares a table before them.  God who is present in the darkness and in the light. God who is their teacher, their provider, their constant companion, and the lover of their souls. God who loves them even more than we ever could. God who wants to work in their lives to do something we could never do.

If you've climbed out of the car this week, be comforted.

God didn't.

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Are You Child-like or Child-ish?

I am very child-like. 

I like walking on the top of stone walls, eating ice cream instead of dinner, and taking naps with my favorite stuffed animal.  I like making faces in dressing room mirrors, sleeping over with friends, and reading books in bed.  I like summer better than winter, libraries better than doctor’s offices, and potato chips better than celery

I celebrate the fact that Jesus loved children. 

He was never too important or too busy to interact with the children who flocked around Him.  Like puppies, children know who loves them, and they knew Jesus loved them.  “Let the little children come to Me,” was His command, “and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God.” (Mk 10:14)

Children were Jesus’ best example of what Kingdom faith looks like.  One of the most precious gifts a child bestows upon someone is her trust.  She never asks for a resume with five references, bank statements from three years back, or a 30-day trial period.  She just trusts. 

When the object of a child’s trust is her father, she models the trust God calls us to have in Him.  Saving faith is simple, unconditional, and active.  We don’t have to reconcile free will and election, solve the problem of evil in the world, or recite the Westminster Catechism. We just need to trust to the point of action.  We need to trust God enough because of Who He is to jump off the ledge of self-effort into the arms of Grace.

“For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God, not of works lest any man should boast.” (Eph 2:8, 9)  This is child-like faith.

On the other hand, sometimes I am very childish.  I sulk when I don’t get my way, hate taking my vitamins, and would rather play with the dog than do my chores.  Sometimes I don’t make my bed, pick up my socks, or floss my teeth.  Sometimes I don’t like to share. 

While God encourages us to come to Him in child-like faith, He does not encourage us to be childish.  Though he instructs newborn believers to “as newborn babes, desire the pure milk of the word, that you may grow thereby,” He doesn’t want us to stay spiritual infants. 

God, through the apostle Paul, scolds the “fat babies.”  “And I, brothers, could not speak to you as to spiritual people but as to carnal, as to babes in Christ.  I fed you with milk and not with solid food; for until now you were not able to receive it, and even now you are still not able; for you are still carnal. For where there are envy, strife, and divisions among you, are you not carnal and behaving like mere men? (1 Cor. 3:1-3)

I hope you can examine your life and find that your child-like faith has allowed you to trust Christ as your personal Lord and Savior.  If you have, or if you are making that decision today, picture the scene from Mark 10 with you as the child at Jesus’ knee. . .  “And He took (insert your name here) in His arms, put His hands on her, and blessed her.”

If you have a trust relationship with God, this type of saving faith is active faith. It is growing faith.  It is maturing faith.  While it begins child-like, it is not childish.  If you can look at your life and see little evidence of the family resemblance that marks all of God’s children (Gal. 5:22), then it’s time to grow up!

“Lord, you tell us in Philippians 1:6 that “He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.”  I know you promise to be at work in my life, but you won’t do it against my will.  Help me to seek you first each day, choosing to spend time in Your Word so that I can grow up to look just like You one day.  Thank you for being my heavenly Father.”

I Turn the Heat Up, He Turns It Down -- Thoughts on Differentness

I turn the heat up; he turns it down.

I like vigorous walks; he likes vigorous channel surfing.

I like fruit, veggies, and pasta; he likes chicken, beef, and pork.

I like making lists and planning; he likes to be spontaneous.

I think chocolate without nuts is a waste of good chocolate; he thinks nuts belong in the bird feeder.

I sleep like a swaddled newborn; He sleeps like an end zone ref declaring a touch down.

I like sweet stories with happy endings; He likes action movies with guns and bad guys.

There's no doubt about it.  We are different.

A wise counselor once said that some of the fights in our marriage would be over matters of right and wrong.  Others would be caused by selfishness.  The vast majority of our fights, however, would be over  what she called "differentness."

It took me about ten  years to begin to realize that just because my husband, David, thought differently than I did, he wasn't necessarily wrong.  Prior to that revelation, I assumed that there were two perspectives -- my way and the wrong way.  Albert Einstein is famous for saying, "Insanity is doing the same thing the same way and expecting different results."  I don't remember the subject of the stalemate, but I do remember being frustrated enough to say, "Fine, we'll do it your way."  And it worked.

That success caused me to begin to wonder what other pearls of wisdom might lie buried beneath my husband's alternative point of view.  Guacamole on hamburgers?  Eeeew!  Let our daughter attend youth group in the sixth grade?  Intimidating!  Buy a newer car before the wheels fall off  the one we have been driving forever?  Frivolous!

As I learned to say, "This is the way I see it, honey, but what do you think?"  I began to discover a depth of wisdom and insight in my husband's often very different perspective. God also revealed to me the root issue in my own heart -- the sin of pride.  Simply put, my unwillingness to consider another's viewpoint was arrogant and presumptuous.  I was also guilty of usurping my husband's God-given position of authority in our home.

I would love to say that I was cured of my pride in ten days like strep throat after a good round of penicillin, but I'd be lying.  To this day, after almost 27 years of marriage, I still catch myself making important decisions without getting my husband's input.  God's Word, however, encourages me with instruction on how to live life in respectful consideration of the husband with whom He has gifted me.

"Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself. Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others" (Phil 2:3).

Guacamole on a hamburger?  Still not a fan.  But I did have a really good steak with my pasta salad the other day!

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Tornadoes and the Valley of the Shadow

News footage of the Tuskaloosa tornadoes reminded me of the aftermath of Hurricane Andrew on Florida's coast. . . only there was no coastline, only a wide, waterless path of timber and brick that was once a neighborhood.  The images played like a kaleidoscope of pieces swirling around a hub of sorrow -- a man sitting on the front steps of what used to be his home; a woman with her arms wrapped around a damp dog, staring but not seeing; a husband and wife embracing, thankful to be alive . . . and together.

In a voice thick with disbelief and still tinged with fear, I heard one man describe his nightmare.  "My wife and I, we got into the tub, and I laid on top of her, and all we could do was pray."  I pictured that man, loving his wife so much that  he used his body to shield her from the demon that roared over the top of them . "Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."

With my heart still bruised from Easter and the reminder of the cross, I heard Jesus in that man's voice.  I saw Jesus in that man's actions. We love because He first loved us. . . By this we know love, because He laid down His life for us. And we also ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. 

Just like that man in Alabama loved his wife sacrificially and was willing to put his body in the path of a tornado to save her, Jesus was willing to sacrifice his sinless body on the cruel cross of Calvary to save me.  Instead of covering me with his arms, He covered me with his blood.  Like that woman emerged from the horror of a tornado safe and whole, I too can one day pass through the valley of the shadow of death and come out on the other side.  Safe and whole.

Many are they who say of me, "There is no help for him in God."  But You, O LORD, are a shield for me, My glory and the One who lifts up my head.

Thank you Jesus, for loving me to death.

What Are Your "Good and Perfect Gifts?"

I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly. . .

Sometimes my heart swells with God's goodness to me, and quick tears of gratitude cloud my vision. 

I am humbled not only by the big gifts, but especially by the small ones -- the ones God created just for me, or so it seems. 

The ones He sends to me in such a way that I know they are from Him alone -- like a secret admirer --  evidences of His smile upon me. 

"Just because I love you" gifts. 

They tender my heart and cause it to overflow, quiet joy leaking out of every ventricle. 

  Every good gift and every perfect gift comes is from above, coming down from the Father of lights.


Here are some of my good and perfect gifts:

Fat puppies' warm bellies.

The sweet spot at the back of a baby's neck.

An ice cold diet Coke with pizza.

The scent of the Rhode Island peonie that only blooms after a very cold winter.

A sleeping baby on my chest.

The rush of tears that fall in the wake of the Holy Spirit's footsteps.

Reeses Peanut Butter Eggs.
.
A hot shower in the winter.

Hearing "well done," in my heart after I have obeyed.

Warm berries right off the bushes.

An answer to prayer.

A warm bed on a cold Saturday morning.

An unprompted, "I love you, Mom."

The scent of honeysuckle.

A thank you.

Now it's your turn.  Click the link below to leave a comment with some of your "good and perfect gifts," and we will be thankful together.