30 Days of Thanks – Day 1

(I’ve decided to commit to thanking God for who He is over the next 30 days leading up to Thanksgiving, focusing on a different aspect of His character each day. Here goes…)

I am thankful for a God who is plainly seen (yet also invisible and mysterious, but that’s for another day). A God who has given us His written word, who formed the earth and all who dwell there with His very hands, who made man in His image, who sent Himself to us in fully human form and walked upon the very soil which He summoned into being. A God who parted seas, brought down giants and stone walls, and gave sight to the blind. Who did so in such strange and wonderful ways that would point us directly yo Him and no one else.

Where do you see God?

A Table for Our Manna

God’s provision is sweet. So why do I allow myself to be bitter?

We recently gave in to the fact that we’ve outgrown our kitchen table. It’s a round table that seats four. We got by for a good while just squeezing an extra chair in for Sona, but lately I’ve been wanting to serve more meals “family style” with all the dishes out on the table so that I can actually sit and talk with my family during meals, rather than just running in and out of the kitchen because by the time I’ve made plates for all of the kids then Sona’s thirsty, and by the time I get her water, Glory has finished her mac n cheese and wants more, and by the time I get her more mac n cheese, Willa has spilled Sona’s water and so I go get a towel… and on and on. Not to mention the number of times that Senator and I nearly collide in the doorway from the kitchen to the dining area as we’re filling all of these requests. Regardless, a bigger table would have enabled a different type of mealtime for us. And we just so happen to have a much larger folding table in the garage. So we rolled it on in and arranged our 4 matching (plus one mismatched) chairs around it and are enjoying the extra elbow room.

Around the time of the table-switching, I ended up in Frisco with a little time to kill before meeting some clients for a maternity session. I wandered into IKEA and let myself drift into their small sea of dining tables, curious which one we might choose in Asia. (Since we know we have an IKEA there and their merchandise is available worldwide, it’s fun to windowshop for things that could actually end up in our home there.) At first, it was thrilling – there were darling table arrangements that I just adored.  I imagined the matching dishes that we would put on them and the food that I would prepare and place in them.  And then all that faded away and instead I was drowning in waves of pricetags that crested at numbers much higher than I had hoped.

I waded out of what had started as a fun way to anticipate where we’re going and walked away with a sunken spirit wondering how in the world we were ever going to get there.  You know that sad, slumped Charlie Brown kind of walk?  Yeah, that was me.  Until I got out of the store and realized the errors in my thinking.  How in the world are we going to get there?  Well, nothing “in the world” is going to be nearly as crucial as God’s hand moving us there.  I laughed at myself when I imagined God writing out this meticulous, thoughtful plan for our lives… “boy meets girls – good… send girl to asia – good… move hearts to missions – good… beautiful wedding… two beautiful children… one more for good measure – good, good, good… prepare and move them back to asia – this is all coming together quite nicely… DOH!  A table!  I’ve forgotten to give them a table!”

I was sharing this story with a friend who has raised her family on missions support and she laughed along with me and said that she couldn’t count the number of times that she wondered how they were going to manage getting “a big enough table” in a manner of speaking.  The truly sweet part of God’s provision is that it comes daily.  It’s continual, but in a way that let’s us *feel* our needs before they are met.  Let’s us remember who is really meeting them.

When I was a child, I remember wondering how people remembered to pray before every meal.  As an adult, I tend to think the opposite, if we’re truly thankful for what God has given us – how can we forget?

Thank you Lord, for our table – whatever size – for the food that’s on it and for those gathered around it.  Thank you.

Excuse Me…

Lately we’ve been implementing a little Habits Training a la Charlotte Mason. (The pioneer of a Christian homeschooling curriculum) She has this list of 60 “habits” that one would ideally instill in their children – really awesome and epic virtues – things like obedience, modesty, perfect execution, and fortitude. Her suggestion was to focus on one habit and work on it for 6-8 weeks. At that rate, it takes 10 years to get through the entire list. The whole prospect sounded a bit intimidating, but the results were too appealing to not give it a try.

The mother who takes pains to endow her children with good habits secures for herself smooth and easy days; while she who lets their habits take care of themselves has a weary life of endless friction with the children.

We’ve had enough days that were full of “endless friction” and I’m just starting to grasp how much influence over that I get to have.  So, at the suggestion of someone’s blog post on Habits Training, I decided to do what seemed most manageable.  Start with whatever annoys you the most.

So for now, we’re calling this habit “polite speech” – which isn’t on Charlotte’s list specifically, but falls under a number of official habits.  And our children are still shy of the age that Charlotte recommended implementing formal lessons, so this is all just warm up for us.  What we’re doing currently is simple – anytime the twins react like screaming banshee’s, we remind them quickly “Try again!” (in a polite voice, of course) at which they remember to calm themselves down and say “Excuse me, mommy.  I wanted strawberry jelly, not the other kind.”  Yes, we have hysterical meltdowns over the wrong kind of jelly in this house.

And it’s working *marvelously*.  I want to give Charlotte Mason a hug.  We’re only a couple weeks into “polite speech” and I’m already scheming up what we’ll work on next.  Until they’re a bit older, we’ll stick to simple, easy to identify habits – like clearing the table after a meal or not interrupting others when they’re speaking.

The really unbelievable thing is that Sona has even caught on!  She will – without prompting – calm herself down in the midst of a tantrum and say “Excuse me, mommy…” Which amazes me.  However, the hilarious thing, is what she follows up her polite introduction with.  “Excuse me, mommy… Go away.”  “Excuse me, mommy… No.”  She’s repackaging the presentation, but the emotions haven’t changed.  Which is fine, she’s not quite two – we’ll give her a break.

But it made me wonder how often I do the same thing with God.  Calm myself down just enough to compose a prayer or change my attitude so that it vaguely reflects something I read somewhere in the Bible – without really letting my heart be changed.  “”Excuse me Lord, that’s enough sanctification for today.” “Excuse me Lord, I’m tired.” “Excuse me Lord, I don’t have time for that.”

The last is the most ridiculous of all.  And one that I’m guilty of often.  What could be more deserving of my time?  What am I spending time on that I couldn’t sacrifice a portion of for the Lord’s will?  So the unexpected result of implementing Habits Training in our home, is that I find myself being trained as well.  And I’m trying to welcome it politely.

Gratitude

After a summer of seemingly relentless heat, there’s the hint of a chill in the air this morning. When I was in my early twenties, I remember writing in my journal “August’s fever is finally breaking”. The end of summer in Texas always feels that way to me – like the end of an affliction or illness. I don’t tolerate the heat well and the moment I walk out into air that refreshes instead of stifles, it’s like I’m breathing in new life.

In celebration of this change in seasons, I’m sitting here with my french press full of hot coffee. A dear friend brought me a bag of hazelnut cream coffee beans from a recent trip that she gave to me last night at church where our elder board announced that our building was entirely paid off and now that the church was no longer carrying that debt, that we’re free to press onward in ways that will bless our community. Quite frankly, I was blown away by the plans. First, they spoke about opening a homeless shelter in a building that is currently in the process of being acquired and will be operational by winter of this year. Our community doesn’t have a homeless shelter and there is a definite need for one! Then, they went on to say that we’ve been given a large area of land on which they intend to build transitional housing for those that are committed to making homelessness a memory instead of a reality in their lives. Residents in these homes will also be blessed with produce and beef from our church’s community garden and cattle ministry. Next they mentioned the need for a new building for the youth in our church that is closer to our current main building. So, plans are in the works to make that happen and then the remaining building (where the youth is currently meeting) will be handed over to our church’s provision ministry. They will have this sprawling area to fill with clothes and furniture and food and any other tangible thing that those in need can grasp and see God’s goodness in the most practical ways. Also, that building has offices lining its perimeter and those will be offered, rent-free, to non-profits in our county. Which is as much a blessing to us as it is to them – of course it frees up more of their budgets to do whatever they’re called to do, but also, it means that whenever someone walks in the doors needing assistance, there will be a variety of organizations represented within arms reach to help them!

Of course, if you know Senator and I, you know that homelessness and the ministry of meeting practical needs is right where our heart is. So as we prepare to move to Asia and do this kind of work, it brings me incredible excitement and joy to know that our home church is moving in the same direction. I’m so thankful for the community we have there and for where that community is committed to going.

So today is one of those days when I find it easy to be thankful. But in my head, I know that all too quickly this gratitude will turn to grumbling. It’s happened since the beginning. Reading in Exodus about the Hebrews grumbling in the desert reminds me that even when God’s glory and presence can be seen with the naked eye, we are quick to look instead to our selfish pursuits and desires. To focus not on what has been given, but finding something that we feel we lack. To look back to a life of slavery and say “waiting for God’s promise is hard, I’d rather go back to the easier-even-if-it-means-we’re-being-mistreated-and-there’s-no-great-blessing-to-inspire-us-to-perseverance-and-God-Himself-isn’t-raining-down-miraculous-food-from-Heaven-to-show-us-just-how-capable-of-providing-our-every-need-and-how-desperately-we-need-Him-daily life of being a slave.” And I can sit here drinking my coffee and say “silly Hebrews, your error is so obvious”, but let’s be honest. I’m a grumbling Hebrew in the desert. If not today, I will be tomorrow.

And that’s the beauty of our faith. That regardless of my feeling toward Him, God does not change. He is not tossed about by the waves, he is not a shifting shadow – that’s me. So, even in moments like this – with the loveliness of hot coffee, and cool air, and the excitement of seeing the body of Christ stand up and move rather than lie and be dormant – my utmost thankfulness is not for these, but for an unchanging, sovereign God whose emotion for us is carved into a tree.

Discipline

At the beginning of this summer, God started teaching me about discipline.  And I’ll be honest, when I saw it starting to happen, I was excited because I knew that it would be good.  What I didn’t know was how far reaching and applicable in a number of aspects of my life these lessons would be.  Let me take you back to the beginning.

Thanks to facebook and all of those activetrainer and nike+ running posts, I decided to try the Couch to 5K running plan, I was passive aggressively bullied into it.  And it was only a week into the program that I decided it was pretty pointless to put in the effort to do all that running if I was just going to eat junk all the time.  So I jumped on the Weight Watchers band wagon too.  There was a pretty obvious common thread between the two – there was always an excuse not to do what I was supposed to and it was always rewarding when I chose to do it anyway.  (I could end the post there.  That last sentence pretty much sums up everything else I’m going to say.)

I actually loved the C25K runs and the food I was eating on WW.  But life is messy and sometimes I couldn’t find clean socks or the car was out of gas and the gym was about to close or I was out of greens for a salad or Sona was clinging to my leg while I was dragging her around the kitchen preparing a meal out of real food instead of whatever I could grab from a package.  However, choosing to just wear dirty socks or run outside or make an entire meal with one hand so that I could hold Sona always, always, always made me feel good.  And while losing the last of my “baby weight” (now that the “baby” is almost two) was a bonus, it was all totally worth it just for the way it made me feel.  It was my first practical lesson in the art and blessings of discipline.

Then summer ended and fall began.  I started a program at our church called the Bible Training Center for Leaders.  It’s a class for women that covers Bible Study Methods, Old/New Testament Surveys, and other topics that force me to exercise the atrophied academic muscles in my brain.  I told Senator that I feel like my brain, before having children, was a sponge and now it feels like a sponge that hasn’t been wrung out.  It’s functions are the same, but it’s not as efficient as it used to be.  We have about 5 hours of homework each week and after an hour or so of studying topics like exegesis and systematic study, my brain just feels numb.  Fortunately, God gave me a really tangible lesson in building up endurance and the blessing of perseverance this summer.  So I’m treating these assignments in the same way that I approached each new run.  I push myself further than what is comfortable, trusting that the act of discipline will produce results and maybe by the end of the semester my brain will feel a little more absorbant again.

And though this post has been mostly me-focused, we still have three little ladies running around us at all times.  Perhaps discipline and children seems like an obvious connection, but what I’ve realized here, still has more to do with me than them.  Lots of this is stuff that I’ve known/been aware of for a long time, but it’s finally all coming together and I’m finally placing the proper amount of importance on them.  What it boils down to is that the best discipline for my children is really discipline for me.  I can’t expect them to thrive in their obedience if I’m not providing a solid structure in which they have proper parameters to obey.  The truth is that there are plenty of moments where it would be easier to put quarreling children in front of a movie or give them a snack to occupy them rather than putting in the effort of discipline.  I’m speaking of discipline in the broad sense of the word, not just timeouts or revoked privileges, but training and teaching them what actions and behaviors are appropriate and which are not.  Which can be a pretty overwhelming job!

But I was encouraged recently to realize that by being consistent and putting in the work of discipline for them, I’m beginning to lay the foundation for teaching them the Gospel.  One of my biggest fears in parenting is that I won’t be able to teach my children, in real, tangible ways, who God is.  My prayer is that they would see God, not in segments of our life (at church, during prayer, etc.), but in our day to day lives.  And then I had this revelation… we were driving in the car and Willa hit Sona’s foot.  We’ve been teaching the girls not to act out aggressively with each other when they’re angry, so hitting is an automatic timeout.  I told Willa that she could sit in her timeout when we got home, which, of course, upset her.  The easy way out would have been just to find someway to appease them all and secure some peace for myself.  Ice cream, maybe.  But then I realized that in order to understand real mercy, you have to understand consequences.  You can never fully appreciate that someone else stepped in to take your punishment for you, until you understand that there is punishment to be expected.  Not to say that I think I have to become some militant timeout robot, never giving grace.  But that I shouldn’t avoid giving them an opportunity to learn that their actions have consequences because I’m feeling a little lazy or its an inconvenience.

I suppose what I’m saying is not that I’ve learned to discipline them differently or more strictly, but that I have a new perspective on why I’m disciplining them at all.  Whether that means sending a guilty 4 1/2 year old to timeout or simply intervening and trying to teach them more polite and loving ways to interact – I’m doing it because they need it.  And, of course, because someday I want them to understand the fullness of the grace that was given to them.

So it goes – I’m trying more and more to eat what I should, study intently the material that numbs my brain, and take every opportunity to teach my children how to be more loving – even when it’s inconvenient.  Even when it doesn’t feel like that’s what I want to do.  Trusting that the discipline will produce results that exceed the fruits of my laziness – which, to be honest, are bitter and few.

And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, ² fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. Hebrews 12:1-2 (partial)

Finding Contentment in Uncomfortable Places

I fell in love with this picture of Willa as soon as I snapped it.  She was entirely content to sit and examine blades of grass despite the oppressive heat and her obsessive photographer mother (who was trying desperately to embrace having a fun outing with her daughter and let go of her “perfect portrait” ambitions).  In a situation where anyone could have found a million and one things to complain about, my sweet little Willa was content with the mere creation beneath her feet.

On a spiritual level – you know, the part of me that sits in air conditioned rooms with glasses of iced coffee and praise music playing while I thoughtfully ponder all of these wonderful things that I can barely understand – on that level, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be content.  About how anxiety is the antithesis of contentment.  About how being content with what you have and where you are often means laying down the things you think you want and the places you want to be.  About how foolish it is to hold onto our own feeble desires and dreams when God’s plans are always astounding bigger and more fantastic.

But on a physical level – the part of me that has to buckle three kids into their car seats in a Target parking lot when it’s 103 degrees outside – on that level, I find myself in a near constant state of complaining and discomfort.  About how frustrating it is that my child refuses to buckle herself up even though she is perfectly capable.  About how much faster we could be on the move and in air conditioning if she’d just cooperate.  About how absurd it is that the twins are fighting over an imaginary object and one of them is crying because it’s been stolen from her.

And then it hit me.

In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.1 Thessalonians 5:18

In every thing give thanks. Every thing.  Not the good things.  Not the easy ones.  Not the comfortable ones.  Not the ones that we wanted.  Every thing.   And it hit me when I was trying to buckle the uncooperative child in the parking lot that felt like an oven.  So I thanked God for what I could in the moment.  ”Lord, thank you that my child has functioning arms and limbs even though she’s choosing not to use them right now.”  And even though, I was frustrated and uncomfortable and mildly sarcastic, that prayer immediately corrected my vision.  I was still sweaty and tired and ready to get on the road, but praise GOD for my healthy children.  Three little girls that were knit together to perfection within me by our Heavenly Father.  Amazing.

So I’ve been working on it.  Even in the brutal Texas summer.  In all things, it is the will of God concerning me that I would give thanks.  And so I do, sometimes with grumbling, but it changes me everytime.

A Glimpse into the Madness

Why am I posting a picture of Sona from Christmas?  Because I only took it last week.  Why did it take so long for me to take a simple Christmas photo of this adorable little munchkin?  Let me give you a glimpse into our world…

2011 week by week thus far.

Week 1 – Totally normal.  Happy New Year!

Week 2 – Attack of the stomach virus.  8 days and all 5 family members.

Week 3 – Missions Conference!  An amazing but exhausting week…

Week 4 – All the Barnes ladies came down with a crazy cold that was going around at the Missions Conference.

Week 5 – It snowed.  Heavily.  All week.  Our children didn’t leave the house for five straight days.

I’ll stop there.  And I’m only whining a little when I list all of that out, really I find it all hilarious more than anything!  Senator and I have always had our own breed of crazy, it only makes sense that the crazy grows as the family grows.

But we’re forging ahead and hoping March will be a healthier, slightly slower-paced month.

Flaunts and Failures

In honor of Mother’s Day, I thought I’d share a few of my highest and lowest points as a parent.  Enjoy.

Flaunt – The twins were both over 9 lbs at birth – well over.  Glory was my petite first born at 9 lbs 5 oz, and “Big Willa” was a whopping 9 lbs 10 oz.  We had a smooth, natural, unmedicated birth behind a Walgreen’s.  (Ok, ok – in a birth center behind a Walgreen’s, but doesn’t the omission make it sound bizarre?)  It was no big deal when Sona was born at 10 1/2 lbs.

Fail – When the twins were just weeks old, I locked myself out of the house while they were inside it.  I had gone out to check the mail and absent-mindedly locked the door behind me.  (Mothers of tiny twins do an amazing number of things absent-mindedly.)  I had to leave them inside screaming to use a neighbor’s phone to call Senator, who was an hour and a half away, to get our landlord’s phone number.  After 5 minutes or so of fiddling with a million wrong keys, I found an unlocked window and climbed in to rescue them.

Flaunt – Thanks to nursing the twins nonstop for a while back in the day, I can now type incredibly well with one hand.  In fact, I’m typing this one handed right now

Fail – I am that mom who will open the Goldfish in the store just so my kids will let me finish the shopping trip.

Flaunt – Despite severe sleep deprivation while the twins were teething, I managed to learn new skills like knitting and baking bread.

Fail – Sometimes when the twins were driving me crazy, I would sit on my kitchen counter to be out of their reach…

Flaunt – …but I would always get down if they asked me to read to them!

Fail – When I had morning sickness with Sona’s pregnancy, we went to drive thru’s for breakfast quite a bit.  So often, that for weeks anytime we got in the car they’d ask me if we were going to get a biscuit.

So to all you mother’s out there – here’s to our best (and our worst) moments in child-rearing, may we brainwash our offspring to remember only the former.

In the Trenches

You know how they say that soldiers who were in the trenches together have one of those bonds that no one else can understand? I feel that way about motherhood.

Not to say that raising children is a war, but the challenges you face are life altering and unique. Last night, Willa had it pretty rough. She’s recovering from a cold, nothing major – just a runny nose and an annoying cough – but it’s worth noting that she wasn’t at her best. Sometime after dinner, the girls were playing in separate rooms and both ran excitedly to share something with one another. Glory comes running from the playroom, down the hallway. Willa comes running from the living room toward the hallway. They collide in the foyer. I didn’t see it happen, but I know that Willa took the brunt of the force on her nose. I know this because it bled. I also know that they hit hard. Really hard. I know this, not only because of the bloody nose but because neither one of them landed in the foyer. Glory ended up back in the hallway and Willa was back in the living room. Somehow Glory managed to calm down pretty quickly and go about her business, with no visible evidence of the incident. Willa did calm down eventually, after many tears, tissues, and a long cold, sweat. I felt awful for her, but she really did seem fine once she got over the initial shock. They played for another hour or so, then had a nice long bath and by the time they went to bed, Willa had been back to her old self for quite a while and I had almost dismissed the incident entirely.

Then it began.

After being asleep for almost an hour, she woke up. Crying, I would have expected. She didn’t feel 100% well and even though there were no signs of bruises or swelling, her nose must have been quite a bit sore. What I was not prepared for were the hysterics. The thrashing, screaming, inconsolable hysterics. I can only think of two other nights as a parent when I’ve felt so helpless. The first was when Glory was 15 months old with a double ear infection. The second was when Willa was a bit older and had gotten a killer diaper rash from a stomach virus she had. Those were both when they were “babies” and unable to communicate verbally. There’s a whole new level of crazy when its a child who can normally converse with you and for extended periods of time is so worked up that she can’t get a single word out.

I’ll spare you the details of surviving the night, but rest assured that in the moments when she was sleeping, I was frantically googling “child concussion symptoms”, “child broken nose symptoms”, as well as scouring her body looking for bones she could have fractured without us knowing. I considered that her cold had become an evil ear infection. I considered that maybe she had a really painful case of strep. What I knew was that she did not appear to be in immediate distress of any kind (breathing, color, etc were all normal and when she was calm enough, she was totally coherent, albeit demanding) and that I was not going to get much sleep that night. After a particularly rough patch, she fell soundly asleep on me on the couch and there we stayed for most of (what was left of) the night. In the morning, she woke up cheerfully and said “I’m awake!” as per usual. We had our old Willa back.

My point in relating this harrowing tale is that it made me think of how thankful I am for those that are “mothering in the trenches” with me. The friends of mine who also have young children, who I can call at a moment’s notice for a sanity-saving playdate. The ones who I don’t clean the house for before they come visit, that don’t mind not only seeing my floor full of toys and unfolded laundry, but crumbs and crustiness as well.

I remember someone telling me that the friends you make in college are the ones that will last your whole life. While that may be true… I find it hard to believe that I will ever forget the other mothers that are closest to me. I can only hope that in another decade or so, we will still call each other at the drop of a hat after being up all night for an entirely different set of reasons. And perhaps our houses will have a few less crumbs…

Charity

It occurred to me today that I am not a very charitable person. I happened upon this realization while pondering ways that I could, in fact, be more charitable…

See, when we started to raise support as missionaries, I felt very strongly that God instructed me to give where I was able. I took those instructions seriously, and have since tried to find avenues of giving to those He places in my path in whatever ways I can. Sometimes it’s something very small – stopping to have an extra moment or two of conversation with a fellow mother who has that lonely, I-need-to-talk-to-someone-other-than-a-toddler look about them. Sometimes, God gives us opportunities to bless others in more practical ways. Regardless, I try to find avenues to give.

So while driving today, I was tossing around ways that I could use my love of photography to bless someone. I had the chance to photograph a fellow missionary recently and thought to myself “I should be doing more of this”. I began to imagine ministries and non-profits and a virtual oblivion of individuals that could benefit from my generosity, but no sooner than those seeds of giving were sown did a single, yet suffocating weed arise.

What if someone starts to take advantage of me? What if I offer up this incredible and generous gift and someone receives it with apathy? What if my offerings went unappreciated? What if I give *too* much?

Wait a minute… I’m talking myself out of this because I’m afraid of giving too much?! C.S. Lewis said -

“If our giving does not at all pinch or hamper us, I should say it is too small. There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot because our commitment to giving excludes them.”

…and I’m concerned, not because my giving might pinch or hamper me somehow, but because I might not be properly praised for it. How humble.

Yes, I realize how terribly selfish that is. Yes, I plan to go and serve the homeless in Asia as a career. Yes, I will indeed be praying that God completes the work that He began in me that is oh-so-obviously unfinished at this point…