Nancy Wilson's Blog, page 42

The Easter Feast

With Easter Sunday just around the corner, it's not only time to be getting the groceries home for our Easter menu, but also time to be reminding ourselves why we do this in the first place. Why do we go to all this trouble anyway? Because our feasting is celebrating before the Lord, and He is pleased when His people rejoice together.

God Himself is the ultimate host. He loves to spread a feast for His people. He prepares a feast for us, and He prepares us to come to His table. He welcomes us, fills and feeds us, sings over us, and all with joy. We are a people greatly blessed!

God likes noisy celebrations: "The voice of rejoicing and salvation is in the tents of the righteous" (Psalm 118:15). Imagine what it would be like to walk down a street Easter afternoon and hear loud parties every few houses. The voice of rejoicing and salvation!

So as we make preparations for this upcoming Easter Feast, we should think about how we can imitate our Heavenly Father. What kind of party does He like to attend? Does He like sitting at our tables? Is there peace and joy in our homes, or is there stress and conflict? Over the years, I have stumbled in many ways over the Sabbath preparation. I have fussed, either out loud or in my heart. I have confessed many sins regarding the weekly feast. But each time, God reassures me that I have another chance the following week to do better. I think this has been a significant factor in my sanctification!  But take heart:  being tired is not a sin. This kind of regular feasting requires a lot of labor, but it's a huge blessing.

I've come up with many shortcuts and helpful tips on how to cook for and serve lots of people and lots of kids. But I've also learned a bunch about how to prepare myself and how to think about this meal of meals each week. Here's my short list of reminders.

1. Be hospitable without grumbling…God loves a cheerful giver. God cares more about our attitudes than about the menu. Rather celery sticks and water with joy than lots of yummy food with fussing. But it's not an either/or. We can have the good food with joy overflowing.

2. Remember the most important guest at your table is Jesus. Make sure you are preparing the kind of home He loves to be in. Be done with strife. Don't fuss. No matter if your centerpiece wilts or the wine spills or someone is late. Cheerful hearts are more important. "Go, eat your bread with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart" (Ecc. 9:7).

3. Love covers a multitude of sins. Let it go. Spread love over offenses, slights, and sins, whether real or imagined.

4. When we have many guests at the table, I sit next to my husband rather than down at the other end of the table. Then I don't have to shout to be heard, and I don't have to send him hand signals. We can consult on what should happen when, decide when to start clearing the table,  smile together at the chaos, and it's just more fun. Make it easy on yourself.

5. I heartily recommend praying ahead of time. Pray for the food, pray for the guests, and pray for your own peace and cheerfulness. Expect at least one curve ball and don't let it throw you. (The oven won't work, you forgot to buy butter, your guests are late, someone cries at the table….) Just recently we had a delightful lasagna meal with some friends, but it wasn't so delightful for the hostess. Her oven went into lock-down, cleaning mode with the lasagna still in it! But it turned out delicious, and we had a wonderful time. Guests are always far less concerned with things than the hostess is.

Our weekly Sabbath dinners are practice sessions for the big feasts like Easter, and at our house we try to make it all about the kids, especially since there are fifteen at our table most every week. We never want the Sabbath dinner to be an obligation rather than a delight. I often spread candy on the kids' table and light the candles. They have little wine glasses for the toasts. When we bought an eighteen-foot table years ago, we thought it would work for us forever, but we have outgrown it. So the kids sit at the table, and the adults carry their plates to the living room.

But we always have our Sabbath liturgy first. I'm going to print it here for you, not because I think you should do the same thing, but just to give you an idea of what you can do each week with your own children or grandchildren. When we started doing this, Doug was writing it for a handful of kids. Needless to say, it's a much bigger deal now.  He has a question for each child, and as they get older, he changes it to fit their age.

First he welcomes everyone to our table.

Then we raise our glasses for the Sabbath Toast:

This is the day that the Lord hath made.

We will rejoice and be glad in it!

Then he prays, which is followed by (and the children join in)

A Blessing for my Wife

May her house always have seven pillars and may she always mix her wine with wisdom.

A Blessing for the Children

Happy are the people whose God is the Lord. May our sons flourish like saplings, grown up in their youth, and may our daughters be as columns, sculpted in the palace style.

Catechism questions for all:

Do you love God? Yes!

Are you baptized? Yes!

Is Jesus in your heart? Yes!

Will you take the Lord's Supper tomorrow? Yes!

Catechism questions:

Blaire, who made you? God

Marisol, who made Titus and Chloe? God

Titus, what day is it? The Lord's Day

Chloe, why is it the Lord's Day? Because Jesus rose

Daphne, what kind of day is it? A sweet day

Seamus, what did Jesus kill on this day? The dragon

Judah, what else did Jesus kill? The dragon in our hearts

Lina, why did God give us the sabbath? So we could rest

Ameera, why did God give us Jesus? So we could rest in our hearts

Lucy, who is true man and true God? Jesus

Hero, do we have to earn our salvation? No, it is a free gift

Rory, what is the word for that free gift? The word is grace

Bel, what day of  the week is this? The first day, the foundation day

Jemma, what does this mean? Every day is built on a foundation of grace

Knox, why did God do all this for us? Jesus died and rose to wash all our sins away

Kids, what's the point of the whole Bible? Kill the dragon, get the girl!

Doxology

Easter Beginnings

By now I'm sure you are all well into your Easter preparations! My fridge is bulging with Easter Dinner ingredients, and the guest list is closing in on forty. I know that sounds like a bunch, and it is, but more than half of that is made up of our children and grandchildren. Everyone will be bringing contributions to the BIG feast!

I wanted to show you this little centerpiece that I put together last week for a luncheon, and then I used it the following day for a church ladies' brunch, and later that day for Sabbath dinner. The whole thing came from Rachel's storehouse of ideas. She cut me the laurel leaves from some of her bushes, and told me to stick some lemons on skewers and pop the whole thing in a vase. It took all of a minute to put together, and it's now almost a week old and still going strong. So if you're looking for a quick, pretty idea for your table, here it is, courtesy of Lizzie.

Domestic Kindness

Here's a thought experiment:  Think of all the opportunities we have each day in our homes to bestow kindness. Call it domestic kindness. We don't have to look far to find hundreds of ways to be kind.

1. "And be kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ  forgave you' (Eph. 4:32). From this verse we can see two aspects of kindness, but let's look first at how kindness is forgiving. How many times in a day can we extend forgiveness? Sometimes it is asked for; sometimes it isn't. But each time we forgive, we are being kind.

2. And from the same verse, how many times in a day can we be tenderhearted? How many opportunities arise that call for sympathy or pity? How often can we give a kiss, a hug, a word of tenderness, a band-aid, a glass of water? Tender hearts respond in kindness; hard hearts can't be bothered.

3. I Corinthians 13:4 begins with this: "Love suffers long and is kind…" Kindness doesn't watch the clock with a tapping foot, but is willing to wait. Kindness doesn't mind when the children have to be reminded…again. Or when they ask the same question….again. Perhaps it's not a child, but an elderly loved one. When we are patient, we are being kind.

4. God's kindness is abundant  "But you are God, ready to pardon, gracious and merciful, slow to anger, abundant in kindness…" (Neh. 9:17). We have opportunities galore, which means we can be abundant in kindness too. God is ready to extend kindness. Are we ready?

5. "Blessed be the Lord, For He has shown me His marvelous kindness…" (Ps. 31:21). God's kindness is evident; He has shown it to us. And we have seen that it is extraordinary, marvelous, and amazing. That's the sort of kindness we are to be imitating….and we should be showing it to the people in our homes. They should see it, receive it, and be surprised at it!

6. "For His merciful kindness is great toward us…" (Ps. 117.2). God's kindness is immense. Huge. Women have many opportunities to show loads and tons of merciful kindness, day in and day out. It may be a meal for a hungry toddler, a famished teenager, or a weary husband.  It may be clean sheets, socks in the drawer, and an ironed shirt in the closet. These are mercies, and they are very kind.

7.  "She opens her mouth with wisdom, and on her tongue is the law of kindness" (Prov. 31.26). Words are a central means of extending kindness. In this verse, a mother's law is governed by kindness. When she lays down the law, it is not done in anger, but is wise and kind. If we could look over the script of our spoken words at the end of each day, would we see kindness?

8. "For My kindness shall not depart from you, Nor shall My covenant of peace be removed" (Isaiah 54:10). Our people should be confident in our kindness. This means our kindness must not be erratic, sometimes kind, sometimes unkind. God's kindness is immoveable. He is committed to His people and has covenanted with us. Our kindness should  not be occasional, but regular.

9.  "Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another…" (Rom. 12:10). Kindness is affectionate. It is not theoretical; it is practical. It is hands on. It's a welcome home and a hug. It's "tell me about your day" and really listening. It's eye contact and interest. Kindness is an engaged affection.

10. Kindness can be ladled up into bowls in the kitchen. It can be folded up and stacked in the drawers. It can be spoken or it can listen. Kindness starts with God, and He gives it to us so we can give it to one another. If we think of a kindness, it is wise to do it. Sometimes we talk ourselves out of bestowing kindness because it costs us. But when we extend kindness, we are doing our own souls good and blessing one another.

News Flash

Red alert, folks. I'm being a tidge pompous. I think I just may have solved one of the great conundrums of the ages. Nate had that whole Shroud of Turin thing . . . and I've been feeling the pressure to keep up with my little brother. This is my moment. I'm expecting National Geographic to call any minute.

The Problem: How to keep the bedspread from wadding up inside the duvet cover, combined with the added riddle of how to keep your sanity and your sanctification whilst inserting the bedspread into the duvet cover.

I've sewn more duvet covers over the years than I care to think about, and I've always had a love / hate thing going on there. The beauty of the duvet is that it's washable, relatively cheap, easy to make yourself, and makes re-decorating a breeze. On the downside, the bedspread shuffles around inside the cover, eventually twisting itself into a giant lump of sin and evil that is impossible to solve without removing the entire thing and trying to re-insert it. It is at this point in the process that I, myself, become a giant lump of sin and evil . . . because there are few things in the world worse than crawling around on the floor trying to smoothly insert a bedspread into a duvet cover. "Claustrophobic" doesn't even begin to describe it. At the end of the process I'm always a sweaty, angry, red-faced, static-haired stinker.

Way back in my early duvet sewing days, a lovely interior decorator friend gave me a hot tip. Sew ribbons into the inside corners of the duvet cover. Then you simply tie around the corners of the bedspread to hold it smoothly in place. Brilliant. So I did that for years. It was better than nothing, but I'll tell you about the troubles I encountered with this method because I'm sure you're dying to know all about it. First of all, if you tie it just to the very tip of the bedspread, it slips out. If you tie it to a biggish lump of the bedspread, then you have what looks like a tennis ball stuffed into the corners.  If you tie a bow with ribbon, it unties. If you tie a knot – then you're stuck untying a knot next time around. Also, ribbon frays – and no one wants to try to sew a tiny hem at the end of a ribbon. There's always fray-check I suppose . . . but still. All in all, the system is not ideal.

Enter my amazingly awesome plan. It's Spring Break this week, so I'm sewing new duvet covers, shams, etc. for my three girls. (Loads of fun incidentally . . . I let them unroll bolts of my fabric all over their room yesterday and they each got to pick out their own coordinating prints and we had a grand old time.) Anyhow, I think I have officially solved the duvet problem.

First, I placed a small metal eyelet in each corner of the bedspread. Then, instead of ribbons, I sewed shoelaces into the corners of the duvet cover.

Do you catch the subtle brilliance? First of all, the end is finished off, and won't fray . . . even in the wash. Second, shoelaces are a much better texture for staying tied. After all, that's their entire purpose in life. I'm sure there are whole armies of shoelace engineers somewhere, dedicating their lives to the question of optimal texture for tying performance. Or something like that.

You need two sets of shoelaces per duvet – and I trimmed them down to a length of 12″ which leaves enough room to comfortably tie it, but not have laces dangling out the opening. After the duvet cover was finished, I laid it (inside out) on the floor and placed the bedspread on top of it. Then we threaded the laces through the eyelets, tied them in a double bow, and then simply flipped the whole thing right side out. Not once did I have to stick my head inside or grope blindly around in the end, trying to find the corner. Totally amazing.

Now I'm off to sew two more duvets and five more shams. Also curtains – or possibly roman shades. Then lampshades. Finally, upholstered headboards. When it's done I'll post a picture, which should be sometime in 2014. Stay tuned.

Some Doings of Every Kind

Things have been pretty much like the weather around here. One day 65 degrees, sunny, and the kids are all outside playing in t-shirts. Then the next day we are having a wind-snow-sleet  blowathon. This is the way things are in Idaho at such tender times of the year as March. But we have been matching ourselves to it nicely. One day I have a chance to sew – with the windows open incidentally. So I made Blaire a quick skirt out of some hilarious vintage fabric that I love. I bought this in the form of a vintage (epically unflattering) apron at a yard sale. Later, I made it into a maternity skirt which I wore when I was pregnant with Lina. Then it was a curtain in my craft room. Anyway…

She needed something to match the new sweater that I had just finished knitting for her. Yes, you read that right. This was my first real knit since the morning-sick phase, and I was so glad that I was able to wrap it up in a reasonable time frame. Anyway, along with this brilliant and sunny happenstance, we had a  major moment, the sort that only comes your way once in a wonderful while.

Let me tell you all about it. It was mar-ve-lous. The day was sunny (as mentioned above), and gave me much reason to appreciate having a completely fenced back yard. I sent the kids outside to play. I can see them easily from the house, and I was aware that they were playing in mud. Ok by me. Healthy stuff, mud. Once the kids are in the backyard on a daily basis, I would probably feel fine about banning mud mixing as a task, but they were having a glorious time. It looked like they were making mud eggs, nests, and cooking with it. They had a camp. They were transporting puddles on the precarious trays of frisbees. Things were good. The longer it went on, the more I began anticipating re-entry with a touch of concern. Need to make sure they come through the garage. Need to be sure they leave their Bogs in the garage. Need to do it one at a time so that when I peel off the clothes in the garage and carry them to the shower they still have some dignity. Need to find everyone clean clothes. But in the meantime it was so quiet inside, and so sunny. So nice.

Then Titus came to the door. He wanted to come in. I think that it may have been the mud build up that was causing discomfort. So I whisked him in, popped him in the shower. I forgot to mention that he came in the wrong door. Not the garage. And a few mud chunks fell off his clothes on the way to the bathroom. And when I got him in the shower, there were even more mud chunks scattered upon the floor. Not ideal, but manageable. Then I hear Chloe letting herself in downstairs. I hustle off, grab her as she staggers around trying to get her bogs off. Mud is a flying around on the carpet, and the entry way. She came through the garage, good girl. But she was unable to wrestle her Bogs off without a lot of flailing about. So the entry also made an impact on general cleanliness in a totally different area. I haul her off upstairs and pop her into our bathroom shower. Peeling her clothes off also scatters dry mud about the floor. Second bathroom floor messy. I head off to get some kid shampoo or something for her. As I pass the hall bathroom I see Daphne, manfully trying to get all the wet mud off of her hands with a large wad of toilet paper that she has soaked in the sink. This was done out of concern for not getting the hand towel dirty. I removed the toilet paper from the equation, noting as I do so that this effort has basically just wet the mud into a highly fluid, splattery, drippy state. And it has really made an impact on the counter, the floor, and the sink. I tell Daphne to come downstairs with me, and as we round into the living room, the sight that greets us is Blaire. She is sitting, encrusted in mud, on the couch. She knows not of shoe removal (and she had chosen her gold shoes to pair with her sweatpants), and far from trying anything to remove them she simply walked across the carpet (and apparently around a few other places too),and scaled the side of the couch. She is sitting smugly on the couch with a partly eaten apple that she scored from a counter. Not being able to control myself, I took a picture before I gathered her up and took her upstairs to the shower with Chloe.

She had mud in her ears, in her nose, and elsewhere. So I'm not sure why I was still surprised when a bunch of dirt clods rolled out of her diaper onto the carpet in our room outside the bathroom door. Oh well. So I pop her into the shower as I hear Lina calling from downstairs. I tell her to go straight to the shower that is downstairs and  get in. She knows what to do with the Bogs, but it doesn't matter anymore. She heads down, and a minute later starts yelling for help with turning the shower on. I finish washing Blaire's hair, wrap her in a towel, and take her with me to help Lina. I think it was at this point that I remembered Daphne in the kitchen and told her to go get in the shower with Chloe. Blaire and I arrive in the downstairs bathroom, and I set her down while I get the water temperature right for Lina. This shower is very touchy, so it takes me a minute. Blaire calmly says "yucky" behind me, and I find that she has peed all over the bathroom floor. So I rinse her off again in the shower with Lina, clean up the floor, and get her diapered and dressed. We go upstairs to answer the distress signals. Turns out someone had to go potty pretty bad. So they let themselves out of the shower to run to the potty. Having first seriously overindulged in body wash helped to cover the bathroom floor in suds. But remember that we had a lot of dry dirt clods first. So we were able to make a nice muddy bubble situation all over the floor. Titus started yelling that he wanted to get out. Daphne still has standing mud in her hair along with the shampoo, so we absolutely have to finish washing her hair even though the water is now shockingly cold. I put Blaire in her crib to keep her out of the muddy bubbles, which is what she clearly felt called to. She provides us with the soundtrack of wrath for the next several minutes.We finish up with the hair, but not without a little bit of sorrow. I get two girls out of that shower, and go to remove Titus. I see Lina coming up the stairs in a bathrobe, but trailing a constant stream of water. When the water went cold she had just gotten out even though there was not yet a towel. I tell everyone to get scivvies on, and sit on their beds until I call them. Some of them have no clean pants left. All of them are hungry.

And that was the sunny day!

Daughters and Boredom

1 Timothy 5:13 is a warning to women about the sins that come with having too much time on your hands. I know how absurd this may sound to many of you: Did you say too much time? Oh what would that be like?? In the midst of a crowded day of caring for children and running a household, it seems impossible. But that is actually Paul's point in the following verses. In order to keep from idleness and gossip and being a busybody, he recommends that women bear children and manage the house. In other words, fruitful labor is a protection from many temptations. Idleness is a set up to stumble.

When we are idle, we are tempted to entertain ourselves with other people's business, and sometimes other people are all too eager to share their business with us. The women Paul was concerned about were "wandering about from house to house, saying things which they ought not" (vs. 13). Of course today, we have the tools at our fingertips to check in on other people's business while never leaving our home. In fact, we have the technology in our pocket to find out far more than we wanted to know.

Women are naturally good communicators and listeners, which is a mighty big help when it comes to raising children and taking care of people. But this natural strength can also become a natural weakness. We can be tempted to want to know and pass on information that is none of our business.

Given Paul's warning to grown women, it's clear we need to teach our daughters about this topic, both by instruction and by example. And we need to see the value of keeping our little girls busy too. Boredom and idleness lead to grumpiness and annoyance, and make fertile ground for fault-finding and tattling. Little girls who indulge in the sins of tattling and tale-bearing can grow up to become gossips and busybodies.

I have ten granddaughters, and most of them are at the stage where they love to help. When they come to my house, they often ask me right off if there is something they can do to help me. I hate saying no, although sometimes if I am in the midst of getting something hot out of the oven at that very moment, I have to say no thanks. But  how much better if I can give them a job?

When they ask for a job and we give them a job, we are blessing them with fruitful labor, and they feel blessed. It's a lovely exchange. But finding suitable jobs for them may take time and thought, patience and creativity. Even so, it's a valuable use of your time and will yield long-term fruitfulness. So give your girls jobs they will enjoy. We should think of bestowing on them, not loading them up with burdens. While they love folding napkins, give them napkins to fold, even if it would be easier and faster to do it yourself. But don't let them be bored. Steward their time, shepherd their duties, and watch over their attitudes. Be a source of blessing and a picture of joyful labor. This will keep them from becoming the kind of women who are idle and unproductive.

Contentment

I pulled this painting out of a box the other day, and just for the pure heck of it I hung it on our bedroom wall. Maybe it was just a strangely philosophical mood that I was in, but this painting got me thinking.

I painted it one afternoon in the autumn, shortly after our arrival in England the first year. It was the view out my living room window. The fog had rolled in so far that it seemed to come right to the edge of our yard. Just for fun I sat down and painted it. As I pulled it out the other day and looked at it, I got all nostalgic. You know how that can happen? A song, a smell, or a snapshot can bring on a whole host of memories – and for just a second can give you that fleeting, wistful, poignant feeling that is much bigger than the smell or the song itself.

We lived that year on the grounds of a 16th century manor in a little stone cottage on Church Lane out in the country. Just past the edge of our yard (covered in fog in the picture) was the Saxon Burial Field. The manor was surrounded by an old stone wall, had beautiful gardens, an Orangery, and an Apple Croft. When Charles I was running from Cromwell, he snuck out of Oxford in the night and rode his army up Church Lane, past our house, and supposedly stayed the night in the manor. We could walk the footpath down to the Thames, or across the fields to the pub for dinner and a pint. The kids played in the hedges, and gathered up "treasures" from the Saxon Burial Field that actually turned out to be bits of Roman pottery. Tiny, wild strawberries grew along the footpaths. I could see the church tower out our window, and listen to the bells ring.

When I pulled out my picture, all that flooded back. The fun memories of the family walking back across the fields in the very late twilight in the summertime, the songbirds that sang so loudly every morning, the wild foxglove and poppies that grew everywhere. Hanging my laundry out to dry on bright Spring mornings.

But here's the problem. Looking back on it now, those are the parts that stand out. The parts I miss. But at the time there were lots of other things mixed in as well. Things like no dryer. No dishwasher. The teeniest freezer known to man. The fact that when you set up the dining table you could no longer reach the stove, the sink, or the fridge. Unrefrigerated eggs. A really, really weird picture on our wall that came with the house . . . a drawing of an ugly mosaic. Terrible maroon damask slipcovers. Orangish-brownish, indoor-outdoor style carpeting. Yucky curtains. A dreadful coffee table. A crazy homeless man who wandered the fields and got into our trash. Two twin beds pushed together to make our bed. Those were factors that loomed large as well. The beautiful parts were noticeable at the time, but so was everything else.

But now, from this distance, all the annoying bits have fallen away like dross. They're just funny stories if I even remember them at all. That mosaic picture absolutely drove me crazy until I finally pulled it off the wall and stuffed it behind the couch. And now of course, the mosaic picture means nothing to me. Once a  thorn in my flesh, now a mostly-forgotten detail.

So what's my point in all this? My point is that I think contentment is the art of looking at the present the way you look at the past and the future. We look back at the past, having let all the insignificant annoyances fall away. We imagine  the future as a bright and rosy  time that will have no annoyances at all.

Think of that nostalgic feeling I was describing earlier. Say you hear a song on the radio, and it brings back a wonderful Summer in high school. You remember all the fun, but do you remember how stressed out you were about that zit? You look back on that era as the time you were so thin and fit . . . but remember how during the actual moment you were convinced you were fat? During that wonderful summer (the one you remember so fondly now) you probably spent the whole time longing for the day that you would have your driver's license. Because, as we all know, as soon as you have your driver's license, life becomes one long glamorous adventure. (Remember thinking that?!)

When you're a young mom, older women tell you all the time that you should make sure to enjoy it . . . because these years go by so quickly. Instead of rolling your eyes and thinking, "let's pray they do,"  try and actually stop and listen to that advice. Realize that you're going to look back on this someday, and the diaper blowouts will have disappeared from the picture. The messes won't even be remembered. Instead of spending all your time imagining a flawless future, or wishing to get back a (supposedly) flawless past, try and look at your present circumstances in the same way. Let the dross fall away now, and be content now. It takes real discernment to be able to see what details are actually insignificant. You can't (and you shouldn't) pretend like the annoyances aren't there. But you can try to see them in perspective. You can laugh at them. You can see them as the dross they are. You can decide to not let them distract you from the gold. You can decide to not let them dominate you. Because how tragic is it to go through every day, missing the beauty of the moment because you're too busy re-imagining yesterday's beautiful moment – and wishing for tomorrow's beautiful moment. Try and revel in what God is giving you right this minute.

On Misreading Daughters

There are four little girls in our house, and as time marches on, we are finding ourselves dealing with issues that are new to us. Turns out that we don't have a bevy of toddlers anymore, and all our little people are growing up. Among the many delightful and fun things about our kids getting older, we have also found some opportunities to become confused. Little problems look different when you are old enough to talk about them at great length. Self expression makes things easier in so many ways, and then occasionally it offers parents an opportunity to look at each other blankly and wonder. Who is this person?! Where did THAT come from? Sometimes the more they talk, the less you understand. What seemed like a simple discipline issue becomes something  rather monumental.

What we have noticed with our girls is actually a very common female trait. However, it is incredibly easy to misread, misunderstand, and completely mishandle when it pops out of your little lady. The first time we really noticed this with our girls began in the car. There was some offense taken by someone talking about their birthday date with Daddy. The whole thing was riotously petty. One young lady was being offended (quite unnecessarily) by the other young lady using what was judged as a "boastful voice about going to Zip's."

As you can imagine, we passed out some great spiritual advice. Something like "Let it go, sweetie, that is not a big thing." But the thing wouldn't go anywhere.

"But she is really provoking me!" We explained over our shoulders to the back of the car that being provoked is also a sin. But this was just not going to stop. It was getting shriller. It was getting funnier – I will quite readily admit to having a hard time staying serious in light of accusations of boastful nose postures while talking about a local greasy burger establishment. It was funny, but it was gathering strength. Petty, but actually powerful. We began saying things like "O.K. that is enough. Be done." And done we were not. The offended lady with a lot of feelings was absolutely not going to stop talking, although we were telling her to stop. She did speed up though.

By the time we got home, what had started out as a tiny offense was looking a bit more like extreme, flagrant rebellion. It was easy to read on the pages of that angry face a deeply hardened heart and a criminal future. Everything seemed to be falling apart. Until ten minutes ago, this was a child we had thought of as tender and sweet.

She was still in the midst of the tirade about other people's provocative boasting when we got to my bedroom. It seemed like a pretty big old problem. Petty sin, clutched tightly in a sweaty palm starts to stink bad. Anyways, my impression at this point was that my little girl was absolutely not going to let this go without a big old show down. Daddy, with the same vibe about the situation, was on his way up. So there we were, eye to eye, and I said, "Ok, tell me what happened."

She told me a little slower about exact nose postures, how it hurt her feelings, why she absolutely could tell her sister was being boastful, and a few other juicy details that I cannot remember. When she finished telling me about it, she progressed into an explanation of how she knew it was a sin to be provoked, she knew that her sister was her best friend, she knew that she was letting small foxes spoil the vineyard, and she did in fact want to be done with it all right away.

So we cleared that up. And I was very surprised. Because the tenderness was all still there and had been the whole time. In fact, I think it was the tenderness that caused the entire outburst. Back in the way back of the car, a little sin had happened. Sisterly fellowship was broken, and the fussy voice came out to demand that we fix it. When we did not actually get in there and fix it, she would not let go. But it was never a refusal to let go of the sin, it was a refusal to let go of us. She knew she still needed help, and she was jolly well going to get it, no matter what it cost her.

Of course I don't mean any of this as an excuse of any part of the sin, but there are times when we see something in one of our girls that prompts  a standard response. The big problem here is if you fail to actually interact with them.  Sometimes the sin that pops out is caused by something completely unexpected. Like tenderness creating an explosive conflict. It doesn't mean that the sin that happens should go undisciplined, but it does mean that you need to be paying attention. If you correct a daughter for something, and nothing changes, you can bet that you are following the wrong trail. Flip over some rocks, look around for clues. Watch her, and listen too. Try to think of what seems counter-intuitive to you. Check there. Is she being mean to siblings? Try to figure out how she was hurt. Is she acting like she couldn't care less about anything? Try to figure out what she is caring so much about. Sometimes when little girls start acting out, it is because they are feeling like no one loves them. Then you start firing off rebukes, and frustrated correction because they are being so bad. In this instance, correction and discipline for the wrong thing is like trying to put out an oil fire with water. Same problem, about to get radically worse. Instead of the discipline bringing security, it adds to the insecurity.

The funny thing to me is that this is hard to recognize when I (and I suspect many of you) do exactly the same thing. Not in the car, and not about Zip's, but sometimes when something is wrong, what you start talking about is often not even in the ballpark. Because often women need to talk to figure out what is actually going on. You start talking about the first thing that comes to mind that seems reasonable. Your husband, listening like the good man he is, answers. And then you realize that the problem wasn't your weight after all. It was how messy the house is. And so he encourages you about that, but you aren't encouraged because once again, not it. Then finally, somehow you realize that you were just missing your Grandma. You weren't actually teetering on the brink of anorexia, or even needing to be featured the Hoarders TVshow, but just needing a hug and a laugh.

This is something that really needs to be on the mind of parents of little girls. You cannot fire off an answer to whatever seems to be happening and walk away. With little girls, and big ones too, they bring their problems to the people who give them security. You cannot give it to them without seeing where they feel threatened, and you cannot teach them how to deal with it themselves unless you can teach them what it is. And to do that, you need to find out first.

World Mag

My son is in World Magazine and I commend the article to you as well as his Notes from the Tilt-a-Whirl.

A Little Bit Back to Life

Good new folks, I'm drinking coffee again! Things are brightening up around here! The last few weeks have been a bit of a re-entry to life. And the life around here flies by at a quick pace. Because meal times come just as fast whether you are ready for them or not. And the dirty laundry flows in whether you are turning it over or not. And other things happen all around the house with a speed that boggles the mind. I am just so glad to be finally getting up to pace again – I have gone so far as to make a menu plan and actually go to the grocery store. Never mind that I threw up in the parking lot afterwards, it was still a victory. I told my husband that I feel like I've been standing on the sides of the treadmill since early December, but the speed has not gone down. Finally, at long last, after having a little sip of coffee, I hop on. Turns out I am moving a lot too slow! Turns out that crashing spastically off the back end of the treadmill hurts a bit more that standing on the sides. It can't be denied that it is funnier though.

I think that the last few times I have blogged about housekeeping, it was all towards being spiritual in the mess. I have posted pictures of desperate scenes taking place on my kitchen floor. I have urged myself and anyone who would listen to not get so wound up by messes. Take it easy. Let it go.

I can assure you that I have had many opportunities in the last several weeks to let it go. In some instances I have let it go so far that I began to fear that we had lost it altogether. There are a few unfortunate people who have come to my house lately, and most of them were sworn to secrecy before they got out of the front hall. Things have not been looking luscious around here, and that's o.k., we've made it through alive. Some of the kiddos had colds, and what with the influx of easily reached kleenex boxes, Blaire has perfected her hamster-like nesting techniques with fluffy little shreds. Hands on learning we call it.  Toothpaste has been blobbing more that normal. Life has just been really, really ,real around here, with the crumbs and all.

And so now I am past the letting it go, and onto the getting it back. I ricochet between being ok with walking on pb&j crusts and instituting very specific new plans for bathroom drawer management. It might be a little herky jerky, but we're getting there.

I've got to say that I love a clean house! I love being on top of the laundry! I love with a deep love having a plan for dinner and actually making it. I love spending most of the day on my feet. I love knowing what the downstairs looks like. It's the truth. Regular, real, boring, basic, repetitive life is the best!