Still Counting the Days

You walked across the stage several times yesterday getting 6th grade academic awards ranking you, in various subjects, at the top of your class of over 100 kids. Your elementary years are over and you are headed to one of the public junior high schools near us, having been invited into their accelerated learning track for the fall. 

It seems like I just closed my laptop after writing this post, and then reopened it to write this one. But here we are 6-7 years later and although much has changed, one thing hasn’t changed. We’re still counting the days, in a sense, for the sole purpose of showing that we have a God on whom we can count.

Since Kindergarten, you have attended 3 different schools in 2 different states and been taught with 4 different educational approaches. You’ve experienced the highs and lows of Christian school, home school, Montessori school, and public school. God has used these many changes and challenges to shape you and, by his grace, you have responded.

I really mean that. Any successes you can claim, whether academically or produced in your character, are all of God's grace. Ten years ago I would’ve said that but secretly patted myself on the back for doing a pretty good job of making you who you are.

I see myself in you. And it’s in those times that I pray he will increase in you and I will decrease. Because I want you to resemble me only in the ways I resemble him.

You look like me (and your Ammy), there’s no doubt about that. And when I hear people tell you, as they have me, that your smile lights up a room, it makes me happy. But Stella, I want you to look most like Him. I want to see him in your attitude and actions when you’re frustrated, when you’re excited, when you're interacting with others, when you’re disappointed, when you’re ambitious. I want to see your life continue to take the shape of his because your heart is his.

So, after the program yesterday, when goodbyes were being said, and the awards were being stacked, and one of your teachers unexpectedly pulled me aside to tell me that he knew you were a Christian and could see you living your faith in a real way this year, I praised God. I praised God because I know the struggle you’ve had being a light in a sometimes dark place.  I praised him because I knew this was something your dad and I didn’t directly have control over. This was Jesus in you, shining through you, using your life to make him look great. 

Stella, we are so proud of your hard work and accomplishments and are rejoicing with you as you look forward to this next step educationally. And although there are many things you could boast about from your academic successes these past 7 years of elementary school,

“This is what the Lord says:
‘Let not the wise boast of their wisdom
or the strong boast of their strength
or the rich boast of their riches,
but let the one who boasts boast about this:
that they have the understanding to know me,
that I am the Lord, who exercises kindness,
justice and righteousness on earth,
for in these I delight.'”(Jeremiah 9:23, 24)

Caught Between

I'm putting on my make up in the bathroom and you come in wanting to talk. You look frustrated and tell me how hard it is to be caught between being a teenager and a little kid.

Today you turn 11, and you say there are so many changes and the process is emotionally exhausting and it feels like you'll never get there. We've been through it before and I have my go-to encouragements, but this time God strikes my heart with a new compassion because I realize I'm there too. My circumstances are different but I'm still caught in between.

When I see myself in the mirror of the Word, I feel the tension between the already and the not yet, and I think I'll never be what I should be and I can relate to all the awkward in the process of change. Saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, growing into what God is making me, not feeling at home in my own skin (or feeling too at home there) when my spirit is (or should be, depending on the day) pulling toward heaven.

So I look at your big brown eyes so full of the complexities of where you are in life and I tell you I know. I know how hard it is, sweet girl. I know the growing pains and the long path to change that feels like one step forward and two steps back. I know the frustration of day by day wondering who you really are and what you're really becoming.

And once again, I find myself almost out of words, out of pretty bows to tie up all those concerns and sadnesses and overwhelming feelings. There are fewer quick fixes the older you get. No more just kissing boo-boos as you skip off happily. But really, that's a sign you're right where you need to be, feeling the tension, feeling God forming Jesus in you, feeling God pulling you toward him, and seeing God change you into the woman he wants you to be.

So I tell you that we will struggle together to get where God is taking us.

We have a saying as the teenage years approach, looming before us like a necessary but unwanted rain storm. It's not becoming a teenager that could make us grow apart. We remind each other: the only thing that can make us grow apart is sin. Only sin can create a wedge between us.

So as you're stuck in the middle, between your teenage years and your childhood, make a habit now of fighting sin. Don't let others tell you how you should look, act, and talk. Don't let others tell you what you need and how you should feel. Don't listen when your peers say we don't understand, are old-fashioned, and unloving.

Instead, I'll take one side of that shield of faith, described in Ephesians 6, and you take the other and together we'll help guard our hearts against the devil and all his schemes we are so prone to follow. We'll oppose those fiery darts of well-timed temptations that he's hurling at us. And I'll keep teaching you to use that sword, which is the Word of God, to combat the lies your generation and mine are screaming in our faces.

One day, Stell, we will be what we should be. And because of the difficult journey there, it will make our arrival all the sweeter. But until then, if we have to live between where we've been and where we're going, I'm really glad that we're caught here together.

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Lunch Note

 

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Grace For Every Hurdle

It's been a few weeks since your ninth birthday. Did I really think if I didn't write my annual post to you I could bypass the reality that we most likely only have nine more years together? And I feel like your dad and I are still hunched over you in the back seat, trying to figure out how to get your blasted car seat out of our car, so we can carry you into the house for the first time!

You firstborn children have a hard way to go in some respects. Your firsts are our firsts, so sometimes we hobble along together taking first bites, steps, swims, and drives. We learn early that he catches us when we're falling, steadies us when we aren't as ready for that next step as we thought, calms us when we're the ones up crying in the middle of the night, and encourages us when we thought we should be done cleaning up messes by now, but instead the messes are bigger and worse than a pile of crumbs on the floor after dinner. And through it all, we feel the unrelenting clock and calendar keep pushing us forward to the next phase.

So, it has pushed us to the start of your fourth grade year. Around here, I feel like we're training for the Olympics as we get ready for the next grade of school. We've had our talks - and yes one of them was "the" talk. We've studied the Word. I've warned you of the hard path of the sinner, and I've reminded you that the year ahead is as bright as the promises of God. You know that fearing the Lord is living in the awareness of him - he's always with you, loving you, caring for you, and providing just what you need - and from that awareness flows true wisdom and knowledge.

But still my heart trembles when I think of letting you go again into another year without me. And this public school mama with a homeschool heart has to remind herself of victories past as we face the first day at a new school all over again.

The first morning of school last year, I got a message from a likeminded friend who walked a similar path, encouraging me that the Spirit would be faithful to give us grace for every hurdle. Oh how I needed those words! Just pulling into the parking lot on that first day was a hurdle, let alone walking those crowded halls full of strangers, and then letting you go under someone else's care for 7 1/2 hours a day. It took weeks before I wouldn't cry as I ran errands and drove by the exit for your school, knowing you guys were close but not with me.

The year definitely presented it's hurdles, but just as my friend reminded me, the Spirit gave grace for each one.

About a week into school, Daddy was walking out after dropping you off and introduced himself to the assistant headmaster, Al Carter. Your dad gave him his church business card, telling Al he was a pastor in the area and that he was praying for him. He had no idea that new-to-the-area headmaster was a Liberty grad and would visit our church the following Sunday with his Wheaton grad wife and their two kids. He had no idea that first quick exchange in the hall would result in their meeting weekly for early morning coffee and spiritual encouragement. But God did. Grace!

Thankful for our friendship with Al and Liz!

The year started off with a 'big bang' (literally) when your teacher presented a differing view of origins than you believe. You raised your hand and questioned and challenged. You had to learn to do it respectfully and to kindly interact with others who don't hold your beliefs. It was an early lesson in showing love and honor while disagreeing. Grace!

At Thanksgiving, you got to do a presentation poster featuring people, places, and things you were thankful for. You had the idea to include Jesus in the "person" category, our church as one of the "places," and the Bible in the "thing" column. You described why you were thankful for each one. "Because he's perfect, because they are loving friends, and because it teaches us." Grace!

Around Christmas, I volunteered to work in the Secret Santa shop and Al's wife happened to be working the same shift. In between helping the classes, we'd discuss the quick version of our spiritual journeys, relishing in providence right there in the public school gym. Grace!

That morning, I helped a little boy shop who wanted to pick out a gift for his dad. I pointed out a few options and asked if his dad might use either of those things. He looked up at me and said, "My dad died two weeks ago." And I remembered one of the reasons we were at the school. I have biblical obligations to you, one of which is to lead you in learning how to help your sick or sorrowing peers who might need Jesus. Grace!

I loved volunteering for field trips and reading groups and getting to know and have fun with your classmates. We have great memories of those "special voices" I'd let you guys read in and then "freeze!" Making new friends together was yet another evidence of grace!

I couldn't have been as involved as I was without the help of sweet friends from church providing childcare. I needed their support and help, and they were there for us. Grace!

And this dear woman, who I struggled leaving you with that first day of school, became a precious addition to our "most loved people" list. Mrs. Wall cried as you parted ways on your last day of school and is planning to visit us next summer. The perfect teacher for you - and me! Grace!

As I walked into your school that last day, I had a lump in my throat and fought back tears once again. But this time, they were tears of gratefulness to God. They were tears over faith that grew from seeing those halls as a fearful place to a grace filled place, where God didn't leave us or forsake us. I felt him near and dear there. I wouldn't trade this past year of school for anything, not even having you with me all day every day (although I can never get enough of our special time together). I wouldn't trade it though, because it's a better place to be desperately needing God to work and then finding him working in unexpected places and through unexpected means. Like the joy of finding streams in the desert. Only God can do things like that!

Maybe last year was an unusual year. But maybe it wasn't. So I will remember these triumphs of grace as we jump the hurdle of pulling in the parking lot tomorrow, your first day of school. I'll remember that you're there to get an education which isn't just about learning math and reading. Because I can tell you he's Lord of the nations, but wouldn't it be great if you could see that he's Lord of Orange Park first? Wouldn't it be instructive for you to grow up seeing God isn't like us and his image isn't monochromatic? As Aunt Charisse pointed out, wouldn't it be good for you to watch us appreciating and embracing home as a haven where we retreat after the hard work of being on mission is done? Wouldn't it be better for you to see my and your dad's example (clumsy as it is) of actually being in the world but not of it? And wouldn't it be faith-building for you to have the confidence of witnessing that as my and your dad's light shines in darkness, the darkness can never extinguish it?

There are so many more firsts for us to experience together, my Stella Grace. Another big one is tomorrow. There is even more for you to learn - for us to learn - in the school year ahead. Like we always have been, we're by your side, looking to him for grace as we jump through the hurdles...for at least nine more cherished years!

 

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Growing Love and Growing Up

Photo: Zachery David Photography

I watch your long sun-kissed arms gracefully comb through your sandy brown hair. You evaluate your face in the mirror and ask about plucking your eyebrows. Then you strike a pose, looking back at yourself, and ask me what I think of that "look."

I try not to panic as the stage of "tween" has now entered our lives. We moms resist labels that claim our kids. But at least it helps me know where we're headed and make a plan for how to get there and beyond. Because really there's no getting there and back. From the two lines on the pregnancy stick to now, the lines keep moving forward.

I try to stop the camera shutter of my mind from getting stuck on the image of that round, bald baby girl looking back at me, brown eyes all aglow - the first eyes that lit up when they met mine. Because I loved you so much then and I never want to forget those precious years. But I can't let myself stay there. So, I adjust my view to the growing girl I see in the mirror today and renew my commitment to love you now, as an eight-year-old, and all that means for the next twelve months.

I have a feeling I'll have to keep doing that in the years ahead. It wasn't so hard to love you when the rewards were high. Yes, the work was intense, but the coos and kisses, celebrations of developmental milestones, sweet tangled words and I admit, my level of control over your life, helped get me through those early years. But things are quickly changing and my love has to mature along with you.

I've heard many wives put it this way, "I thought I loved him when we first got married, but now I realize I had no clue what love was. The depth of my love for him now doesn't even compare to that early love we had." And I fear as a parent, I too face a similar temptation to love you in a shallow, self-focused way. Like with every other area of my life, I have to remind myself that parenting, and our relationship, isn't about how it makes me look and feel.

So, you're stuck with my love and all the manifestations it must take through the years to help you on to God. If you disrespect me, and use words I never dreamed could come out of that mouth I used to spoon feed, I'll love you still. And if you hurt the reputation of our family by falling into temptations we taught you to resist, I'll love you still. And if you question and doubt the God you so easily profess and follow now, I'll love you still. Because as you grow up, I have to put your childish ways - the ones I love to linger over - behind me and love and treat you like the age you are, not the age I might wish you still were.

My growing love has to warn you then, Stella Grace, that the world wants you to grow up in all the wrong ways. I watch your peers and those just a few years older than you walk around the mall or down the street and see what they think it means. They believe they can have the revealing look and lifestyle without the heartbreaking consequences. The money without the hard work. The scholarship without the training. The relationships without the commitment. The privileges without the responsibility.

But I agree with the writer of Hebrews and "expect better things in your case, things that have to do with salvation...to show diligence to the very end [even through the t(w)een years!], so that what you hope for may be fully realized. [N]ot to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised." (Hebrews 6:9,11,12)

So, this is one way I show love to you at age eight: I speak the truth to you and tell you real growing up is growing in every way to be more and more like Christ. (Ephesians 4:15)

Now grow, Sweet Girl! I mean really grow. Because when growing up is defined in those terms, how could I even want to hold you back?

 

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New Friday Night Tradition...

Camping out in Schaeffer's room!

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I Thought I Was Safe

Last week I enjoyed laughing at the comical ways Stella's peers described their moms and thought since I'm the teacher I was safe from those embarrassing exposures. Then Sunday came. Stella's Sunday school teacher had her class fill out one of those handy dandy questionnaires about their moms.

Apparently my favorite thing to wear is the same clothes for two days. I guess even MORE laundry is in my future now!

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