Category: honesty

6 Little Secrets of a Sleeping Baby

6 Little Secrets of a Sleeping Baby | Science of Mom.

This is one of the smartest and most holistic studies of sleep training I have read in a long time. It’s child driven, developmentally appropriate and self-soothing encouraging since all children need to learnt o cope with stress in life.

It is a conglomeration of my personal sleep training parenting as well as allowing the flexibility of a family defining their sleep needs.

Bravo! Well done!

(there are 6 posts in the 3 month research conglomeration study. This one starts the study.)

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Music Monday: Step Intentionally

This is a humorous song written by Sara Groves that actually holds a really good point. This song talks all about the church running from the conflict of the world – fleeing to the moon in a moment of “I don’t want to deal with this”.

I have always enjoyed this song (even though Matt laughs at me sometimes due to it’s silliness) because it speaks to a reality of the foolishness of avoiding the world’s sin. There are many times I just wanted to run and hide – be it a frustrating conversation challenging my faith or a discouragement in watching a fellow believer take Scripture way out of context and represent a characteristic of God that in inaccurate. I’m sure I’ve caused many others to smack their own heads as well as God is continually modeling and shaping me to be more like Him and less like my sinful self.

Just as this song touches on the irony of running from the world, it’s been a helpful tool in remembering to look at the large picture of Christianity and the faithfulness of God to work amongst us broken and sinful people. What a great God that He uses us losers as tools to reach the lost!

So in those moments that I want to rein it in, pack it up and run away from conflict, frustration and “the log in another’s eye”, I am thankful that God uses people like Sara Groves to point out the silliness in that philosophy.

Afterall, how will they hear or see if no one shares Christ?

You have to get into the muck to help another out of the muck.

– Step intentionally.

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Beyond Our Understanding

Last night our oldest began to get teary-eyed when I announced bedtime was nearing. He’s still getting into the swing here, you know, since he was only placed here two days ago. Oh wait… did I forget to mention that?

Oh yeah, two days ago we got a phone call a little after 1p and added two new members to our family by 7p. Yep, 6 hours that I’ll never forget. The day had felt so normal. And when I was given the info over the phone I just knew “yes” was the only answer. It was our step of obedience that we’d been praying about for 1 year and seven months from that first heart-pricking. And in one afternoon we met them… the boys that have made us “never the same” and “never wanting to go back” all in one.

He’d cried himself to sleep the first two nights, missing his Mom. Rightfully so. I just agreed with him. It is not fair. I wish I could tell him when she’d come for him. I wish I knew if she’d ever come for him. I ran my fingers through his hair. Nits don’t hold water to love. He’s worth the risk.

Then last night came. And the story emerged. Too much seen. Violence. An emergency phone call. Fear.

I wish I could take it away from him. I wish I could blot out those images that haunt him… I wish I could replace them with trips to the park and Saturday morning cartoons.

Old words drew more tears to his eyes. His bottom lip quivered as he tried to regain self-control, failing. He confided the source of his nightmares… his anxiety about sleeping. His insecurity in what he should really believe.

I asked him if he felt safe here. He answered quickly with assurance. I wondered if that assurance would hold water right after a nightmare.

We prayed. And I stroked his hair more.

I just wish I could take it all away for him.

But I can’t.

But I know who has sheltered him. Who has guarded as much innocence as can be left after all he’s seen. I know who has stood in the gap, shielding him from so much so that he can lose himself in a bad joke, run in reckless abandonment through the house, and blast helicopters with laser beams right before they catapult to the living room carpet.

And all I can do is say thank you. Thank you, Lord, on his behalf.

And then I can just lead him to Your feet, in prayer.

…

Prayer for a peace beyond our understanding.

– Love that boy.

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