Jesus -- & other things -- in my heart!

In the last week, I have had about 439 ideas for blog posts, but, somewhere between the conception of the ideas and actually sitting down to type them, the ideas evaporate. Poof. My mind becomes a vacuum – a void of anything entertaining or witty. Instead, I am filled with the minutia of the first week of school: Which days do the boys need lunches made? Who is picking up whom and where? What should a kid wear to school when it’s 105 degrees outside but freezing in his classroom? Have we even picked up the mail this week?

I could go on, but you likely get the point.

I did type my self-evaluation today for my job at church. It was a new and wonderful experience – and a bit odd to include prayer and intense personal growth an important issue to review. Here’s one paragraph I included:

My ability to accept people as God has made them or grown them has become far healthier. Perhaps this skill improves when a person spends time with children: Kids have an amazing ability to accept everyone at face value, and children are not effective at hiding their own flaws. Such transparency grows acceptance and blessing, and it has done that for me.  At times, we all have to struggle to find an extra bit of Jesus in our hearts to love certain people, and, today, I know that this particular struggle for me is less demanding than ever before.  I know that we all are flawed, but still intensely and innately loveable.

In truth, the vernacular here was totally stolen. I have a friend who says of certain people, “I just don’t have enough Jesus in me for him/her.” It usually cracks me up, but somehow I missed that tone here. Maybe a good thing considering the audience. Maybe. Maybe not.

Without clear segue or transition, here are a few things I’m in love with today, in no particular order…

·        My Nook Color J. Total love and abandon here. Total.

·        Cool Brew Tea by Celestial Seasons + Liquid Stevia = a low-carb, fairly healthy version of paradise.

·        RSVP RT, ball-point pens. It’s the little things really.

·        My elder son who literally charts – Yes, on paper! – the contestants on reality TV shows.

·        My younger son who rarely agrees to write even his own name.

·        Pink. Enough said.

Next week will be the second week of school and the first days of September. Perhaps the promise of fall will inspire my blogging juices to flow.

Limpin' Along

Our pastor said, during his sermon today, that you should "never trust a person who doesn't walk with a limp." He went on to explain that times of crisis and struggle can lead people to closely examine themselves and their God in ways that times of ease and plenty cannot. The result of this weakness and suffering is a limp, perhaps not a physical one, but a limp of the spirit -- an obvious sign of suffering and persevering.

It's the whole theory of breaking bones... Where the bone breaks is often the place where it heals even stronger than the rest of the bone. This theory is true for us as well; we are often driven to our knees before we are able to rise stronger, wiser, and better for having suffered and struggled.

As thoughts will do, this thought tumbled into a mass of other thoughts, one of which reminded me of so many parents I know. On any given day, I will deal with all kinds of parents... Parents who cannot stand to be separated from their kids, even for just a 7-hour school day; parents who forget to pick up their kids on Wednesday nights; moms who worry about abuse and neglect to the point of distraction, dragging the rest of us along into their paranoia; and parents who don't even seem to take notice of their kids.

Parents come in all shapes and sizes, and, yet, for the most part, it seems that parents -- good and bad, but maybe all moms especially -- don't want their kids to suffer, to struggle. They hope that their children never get their hearts broken, their dreams dashed, or their beliefs challenged. They pray that life, for their kids, is easy.

I have to admit that I've been that mom, too. I've made teacher requests; visited classrooms; presented myself to teachers, principals and counselors on a regular basis; and talked to other moms about what are really the situations -- and symptoms -- of childhood. I have worked tirelessly to eliminate struggle and heartbreak from my boys' lives. I have. I have totally been THAT mom.

But today I got to thinking that the very things I -- and so many other parents -- are working infinitely hard to eliminate from our children's lives -- the suffering and the struggle -- those are the exact things that will make them the men and women whom we want them to be when they grow up.

I see all the time kids filled to their hairlines with entitlement. They believe they should be handed things on that proverbial silver platter -- things as easy as snacks and parts in a church musical to things as hard as popularity and eternal life. Kids, for the most part, believe that these things are as rightful to them as air.

It seems that parents like me -- THOSE parents -- may have created this sense of "It's mine!" in our kids. We have taken away their struggle, letting them believe that everything is theirs for the asking: All teachers are always great; childhood challenges don't exist; and problems with the principal are easily fixed. And then these kids grow up... They become adults. And they keep that idea of "It's mine!" They face troubles in the workforce, in relationships, and in the world at large.

So today, I began wondering if it's time for my boys to begin experiencing struggle and suffering of their own -- not front-row neglect or lack, but enough of a taste of what makes our world turn to prepare them for the rest of their lives. The good news is that I can do this now and be a safe, supportive place for them to fall when the world does indeed prove to be unfair. I can do that now so that they can face adulthood as men who are multi-dimensional, caring, delightful, empathetic, trustworthy, and just nice to be around.

Before today, I already had this notion in mind; I know I did, but I also know that, somehow today, explaining it became obvious. It became clear because I want my boys to be, well, interesting because of what they have suffered and struggled through. I want them to know deep in their bones that they can expect life to be unfair but that, above all else, they will be okay anyway.

So, this week, my mom prayer will be, "Dear God, please help my sweet boys learn to limp. Amen."