Category: honesty

Surviving Materialism

My eyes have been opened to materialism and silent materialism all around me lately. And with the Christmas season, materialism seems to be amped up almost as loudly as the selfishness bug. You know what I’m talking about, it’s that “buy this for yourself for Christmas because you’re only going to get lame gifts” message that seems to be attached to every “higher priced” item on the commercials these days.

Actually, to be honest with you, I block out the commercials. We rarely watch any “live” TV these days, and no we don’t have some cool dish network stuff to record things on live TV. Quite honestly, we just don’t find the need to pay for that in our list of priorities. I have also discovered with exposure that my kids become more whiney, demanding, and selfish with television added to their daily repetior. It’s like a cancer, they only want to watch more and have major meltdowns about who gets to have control over the TV. So we skip the coma-like experience and find our joy in playing together instead.

That being said, there seems to be a greater and greater need to choose to focus on Jesus and family during the holidays over the constant materialistic message coming from all directions.

It starts out subtly, relating happiness to an object and later flourishes into happiness only being tied in objects. Fisher Price ran an add line this year that models it so clearly. Their focus is on a parent’s interaction with a child, capturing that cute moment of discovery and squealing and delight. And while I find it sweet how they have highlighted on the innocence of a child, I find it a bit distracting that the honkin’ obnoxious toy is in the way. 😉 The funniest one I saw was the toy kitchen that tells the child when it’s time to clean up. Good… now take the parent’s authority right out of the equation – one less time to have to listen to Mom’s direction.

Am I being overly critical? Maybe. But maybe it just makes me yearn for a parent’s interaction and teaching of their child not to be linked to some $40 learning toy, but instead to be fueled by their desire to just absorb the moment with their delightful child. Who cares what the kid’s doing… unabated joy can come from a pile of rocks… or sticks… or a box. Do we really need a toy to teach us how to interact with our children?

Beyond the commercials is the constant breathing of dissatisfaction with what you have. Sure this fuels the economy. Basic economics: If I can convince you that your life is terrible without my product, then you buy my product… and a shelving unit for all my other products.

This is part of the reason that we usually skip the previews before watching a movie. No need to encourage “I need that” to fall from our sinful lips. No need to hunger for more, more, more, losing track of all that we have.

We’ve been simplifying around here. I find that less toys = more creative play. I find that less options forces sharing situations. I find that a few community-oriented toys and open space fosters more giggles than “think for me” toys and “good for only one” toys. Don’t get me wrong, there is certainly a time and a place for alone, individual play. But too often I find the toys on the market pushing distance between kids and “only for me” interactions.

I guess it’s just when you start looking at the messages that are all around you it gets you thinking, “is that something I want to teach?”

Each of us in this home will always need to make a conscious effort to be thankful for what we have – otherwise we will find themselves always unsatisfied and creating an unnecessary state of inferiority. It’s a crippling spiral of selfishness.
It’s so easy to get lost in the “but we need that” mentality to the detriment of true relationship interaction.

All this to say, materialism is just one more challenge to rise above in repeating, no matter what we hold or don’t hold in our hands, that we are a blessed and grateful child of God for one reason alone: we have been redeemed by the blood of the Lamb.

Is He really more than enough? Or are we storing up treasures that will be scattered to the wind?

It’s when I stop seeking more material gain that I realize You really are more than enough, Lord.

*This image is shocking, but let it remind us that many times we forget the definition of true need in our comforts of blessing.

– please help us stay focused, Lord.

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It Caught Me

There was something in her stale eyes, dirt-clod mouth and blank expression that caught me.

One of those messages on facebook hit me this morning as I scrolled through my friends’ thanksgiving gratitude posts. You know, those “hit share if you feel some emotion” posts with someone’s story and a picture. Seeing so many of those things posted on my wall, I usually just breeze past them – maybe I’m just a victim of over-sharing. But I couldn’t scroll past this one. It hit me as such a stark contrast.

An eerie expression of a buried baby, with only her face uncovered. My stomach churned. [And thus is why I am choosing not to attach the story to this post.] A discomfort made me read the attached story below the picture. I was almost drawn to that painful terror, praying for the evidence of some hope in the storyline.

The story unfolded about an Egyptian father (self-proclaimed Muslim) who buried his two daughters (8 years old and an infant) alive beside his recently murdered wife whom he caught reading the Bible. The children reported, when discovered 15 days later, that “A man wearing shiny white clothes, with bleeding wounds in his hands, came every day to feed us.” Even explaining that the man woke up the children’s mother to nurse the baby. The eight year old identified the shining white man as Jesus on national television, broadcast to a predominantly Muslim nation.

While this story could be a testimony of Christ’s miracle, the repetitive image of a discarded life was etched into my mind. The horror of it all. Those stale eyes, dirt-clod mouth and that blank expression…

Maybe it’s because I see how easily she erupts in a radiant smile. Maybe it’s because I delight in her two month old coos. And the light in her eyes. Those wiggling arms and legs as she spots Matt and I coming near. Her delight. Her utter joy. And the beauty in her eyes…

And then to see this little one’s face… the distrust and broken pain in her listless figure.

I don’t need to watch horror movies, there is living horror all around us. People can do such terrible things to each other. Sin can sure corrupt in unimaginable ways. And while the depth of the pain, hurt and despair can feel endless, my heart yearns for the rescuing arms of Christ. I don’t ask to be rescued from witnessing the monstrosity in this world… no, but the depths of my soul groans and yearns for a rescuing Savior who marches into that brothel and grabs up His bride.

The inner needs for God’s justice for those who have been cast aside as unwanted and expendable…

“Oh that You would rend the heavens and come down (today), that the mountains would tremble before You! As when fire sets twigs ablaze and causes water to boil, come down to make Your name known to Your enemies and cause the nations to quake before You!” – Isaiah 64:1

 

*** I was informed by my dear aunt that this story in itself was reportedly untrue. While this certainly makes my heart feel better regarding the poor lives of two innocent children, the reality that things like this happen in the world of child abuse and sinful acts parents do to “the least of these” is very much true in this world. And while this picture may not have been attached to a true story, the picture of a child’s face being found buried in the ground is sadly more common than we may want to admit. Again, I am relieved that this story was not true, but cannot rest in the naivety that these kinds of stories do not exist. It’s just that these kinds of monstrosities tend to not be widely publicized, just as mass genocide is not easily found in history textbooks.

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Not So WordLESS Wednesday…

This Wednesday I wanted to share a picture, but this one requires a few more words. So it’s a “Not so Wordless Wednesday” over in these parts, but next week I’ll return to the more wordLESS side.

This is copied from an email. I had debated whether or not to share this, but I decided to share this because I think God will reap the glory.

“Matt was cleaning out the bathroom today when he emerged with it on the way to the trash. “Suppose we can throw out your old pregnancy test?” He chuckled. I had forgotten I had held onto it from when we first learned we would be welcoming our third child to the household. “I guess that one came to fruition, huh?” I laughed back as he tossed it in the trash and returned to his cleaning. I remember choosing not to throw it away so quickly. Something about having miscarried Alivia before made me want to cling to the hope of getting to see the next baby’s ultrasound. It almost solidified more in my mind that even if we lost this baby, she was real. Alivia felt like such a haze of misfortune and I just wanted to hold onto something real. I could not protect the baby, no more than I could protect Alivia.

I remember coming home with the first set of sonogram pictures. Our little peanut-baby. And wondering if we’d ever get to a second set of pictures this time. I trusted God. He gives and takes away and makes the best of every situation – even the hurts. I put the pregnancy test back in the bathroom cabinet. It still showed positive.

The second set of pictures came at 12 weeks and it was like a breath of fresh air. But there also lay the reality and the sting of past loss. I chose to hold onto the pregnancy test. It still showed positive.

I could have thrown it away when I first felt Hannah move. She was clearly proof in herself that thus far God had chosen for us to keep the child. But I left it put just for a little while longer. It still showed positive.

And when we came home from the hospital holding our precious Hannah in our arms, the test got pushed to the back of the cabinet some sleepy morning in search of the toothpaste. It got lost somewhere in the new challenge of raising three little ones, on a handful of hours of sleep. It still showed positive.

—

I fished the test out of the trash. [Don’t freak out, it was on the top. (hehe)] I just wanted to take a picture. So I grabbed the sonogram pictures from the fridge door and brought them over to the swing. I laid them on her sleeping little body, beside the “gangrene test”, Matthew and I had joked about. I took a picture.

Sure you can count me weird.

But I just wanted to remember how it felt…

to be standing in front of an answered prayer. ”

– Thanks be to God.

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Thanksgiving

God, thank You for a country where I don’t fear for my girls’ physical safety throughout the day and at night.

God, thank You for a community where I can leave laundry on the line and toys out in my yard and they’re still there in the morning.

God, thank You for the freedom to read books about struggles that are so far removed from me.

God, thank You for safety and Your hand of protection on my family.

God, thank You that when the burglar broke in through the nursery window, entering and exiting through the girls’ room last May no one was harmed. Thank You for allowing the girls to sleep through it all and be oblivious to the danger You saved them from. Thank You that they still sleep soundly and safely in their room to this day.

God, thank You for a government that even in it’s sinfulness, still stands on most terms of protecting life and governing those who threaten the quality of life.

God, thank You for sparing my direct family from direct involvement in the utter destruction and soul-ripping pains of human trafficking. We didn’t get to pick where we were born, so thank You for this undeserved blessing.

God, thank You for sparing us, thus far, from the utter horrors of child soldiers, sexual abuse, torture, in-country combat war, abandonment, violence, rape, slavery and so many of the other ways mankind can find to inflict terror upon each other. Lord, don’t let me take it for granted that You have spared us from this, thus far. Please don’t let me get lost in my little world of blessing that I’d become so sheltered from the pains around this world… and please help me to fight the real battles, leaving the civil arguments amidst warm houses filled with more than we could ever need. Lord, please help me to run HARD after You, promoting Your justice to save us, mankind, from ourselves.

God, thank You so much for ALL that You have given me and opened my eyes to.

Now, Lord, help me to use that wisdom to fight the good fight, win the race and keep the faith.

You are more than enough.

Where You lead me, I will follow.

I love You, Lord.

– Amen.

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So Demanding! ;)

I went to a Le Leche League meeting with a friend Tuesday night. I can certainly see the value in asking questions should your kid be having some odd behavior or you have some nursing complications. I have been blessed by Hannah’s wonderful nursing skills (though we did have our hiccups too) and Abi’s past success, but I certainly don’t take them for granted (remembering the struggles with Rachael and ultimate weaning at 6 weeks).

But there also is a danger in sitting around in a group that won’t tell you “no.”

Please hear me through on this one…

Support is important. Support to excel and succeed can certainly help a Mom “go the distance” in the nursing world. But support is only healthy if the behavior supported is healthy.

I believe breastmilk is the best option for a baby – for certain. But I think the question moves from “best nutrition” to “overall health” when looking to wean a child. Biblically kids were weaned around three years old, but we must also take into account a child’s expectation and cultural skill level at three years old 2,000 years ago verses now.

I tend to fall on the side of babyhood and breastmilk falling together (if possible) while toddlerhood, when nutritional value is found in food over drink, and breastmilk should be a “weaning onto other things” policy. There has been a recent trend in “prolonged” or “extended” breastfeeding into preschool age.

First off, I begin to wonder what is fueling this need. Is it really the child or is it the parent projecting a need onto the child?

I sat beside a woman who was still nursing a child Rachael’s age (turning 4 years old this winter). Now while I am not making the family decisions for her household, I began to wonder if feeding a stubborn will and a perceived skin-to-skin need was indeed healthy. She herself acknowledged the nutritional need ending long ago and the need to establish boundaries.

I also sat across from a woman who in an effort “just to make her happy” was still getting up multiple times per night to nurse her co-sleeping toddler.

[Sidenote: A child is capable and healthily able to sleep through the night once they return to birth weight, though emotionally they may not be ready initially.]

I think it depends on how you view breastfeeding. Is it nutritional or attachment or both?

I’d venture to say in the beginning that it is both. I agree in wanting your child to be happy, but to what extreme do you do it?

It’s the same argument for the pacifier. Or the special blanket.

And I would argue that it is the parent’s job to make sure the habit is remaining healthy. See, when a child’s stubborn will is exerted over a parent, the habit’s not healthy. When “no” is not accepted characteristically, the habit is not healthy. And when a parent views a child’s needs as demand-oriented, drop-of-the-hat, child-controlled, the habit is not healthy.

I don’t think it’s my job to set a nursing age standard by any means, please understand. But I do call to question the evaluation and parenting method of demand-oriented comfort, regardless of the method.

See, I think there’s a sickness going around the parenting world that the child is the authority and ruler of the household or child-rearing. I think it’s the same sickness that drives parents to merely entertain verses interact. I think it’s the same sickness that sets a child up for even greater selfishness.

No one had to teach my kids to be selfish, we all came into this world with those resume skills. 😉 But instead it is the job of the parent to foster a child into “otherness” without fear of their own true needs being met. And it’s not the immature child that dictates the true needs. Oh, they can vocalize their wants all they desire… and they will. But we create an unsustainable world by demand-oriented parenting.

I’m not arguing to rip the special blanket from a child’s arms by any means
(and I was a blanket kid – and still do love my adult blanket and pillow’s feel of normalcy). But I am arguing the need for constant evaluation as to a habit’s transition from nurturing to defiance or dependence.

What do you think?

Feel free to share in the comment section.

=)

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When the Answer is ‘No’

I’m not even sure where to start these swirling thoughts. It’s a lot to still take in.

I got a phone call a few months ago and we all celebrated quietly. We didn’t want to the news to slip out, but we were joyful at the life conceived after a hard run.

My dear sister in law had already lost three, two in a row and the most recent’s surgery still fresh on our minds. And then the news came. And we rejoiced quietly, so as not to announce anything before passing that first trimester window.

Things were trucking along, with understandable conversations of laying anxiety at Christ’s feet. For those of you whom have ever miscarried, you know that passing the last miscarriage date feels more secure… it’s like a deep breath can happen more freely.

And with the close of the first trimester, we were excited to see our prayers being answered favorably. Thanks be to the Giver of life who knits our very fragile selves together in the dark, quiet comforts of our Moms.

Then all at once she felt something was wrong. She told me of the multiple attempts from nurses and even the doctor to find little one’s heartbeat. I remembered that drop in the pit of my stomach when the same thing happened to me. She knew the baby was gone.

With another surgery scheduled, the healing phase begins again. Only this time with the hurt of having more children in heaven than here. We’re left with the ‘why’s to lay at His feet. And why four? The hurts. And the questions that we fight to keep from eating away at our sanity. Faith  is not shaken, but hurt is inevitable. Loss. The grief season.

So what are you supposed to do when the answer is ‘no’?

Again.

You hug each other
and hold each other
you come over to distract
and bring dinner
You pass off the baby when she needs snuggle therapy
And keep the baby quiet when she needs to forget
You listen
and listen
and listen some more

You hurt with her hurts
And cry with her crying
And you laugh with her laughs
because life still has joy
You go for walks
and drives
and celebrate what He has given her
with an arm around her at what has been taken away

And you both stand in the hope of Christ
a Hope that heals the soul

a Hope that breathes peace into the mind
and calm into the depths of the pain

a Hope that offers Life
when death seems to surround us

He is that Hope
and that Perfect friend

And so you just pray Him over her

because He is everything she could ever need…

… to heal.

… and to thrive through this storm.

– Love her so.

– to God be the glory. Forever. And Ever.

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