Our Scars Are Our Testimony

17
Jun

Life-saver after work (Photo credit: CoCreatr)

I have an energetic, adorable young friend. Let’s call him Crash. Crash has had a number of thrills and spills, many of which have landed him in the emergency room. He is six and a half years old and has already broken both arms and each of his legs. He’s crazy like that. Actually, he’s not crazy — he’s just an active boy who happens to fall in very unfortunate ways. One of his falls was particularly dramatic. He was staying at his grandparents farm for the weekend. Mom and Dad were away. There was a rock pile that just screamed his name, and he had to climb. It was marvelous fun…until he descended and the boulder descended quickly after. It fell on him and crushed his foot. It could have been so bad. It could have done long-lasting, serious damage. It could have required reconstructive surgery on his ankle. In the worst case scenario, it could have been fatal. So although Crash had to wear a cast on his leg for most of the summer, his parents felt blessed. It was the way they communicated that blessing and awareness of God’s protection to Crash that impressed me. They taught Crash the concept of an “Ebenezer” from the Bible. In the Old Testament, people would pile up some rocks as a makeshift monument to God after a milestone experience. Then later, when people saw the pile of stones, it would call to mind God’s faithfulness in difficulty. An Ebenezer served as a testimony to the people who experienced the event that demonstrated God’s faithfulness, and those who heard about the event. My friends rejoice in the scar on Crash’s foot because it is in the perfect place. A little further up, he would have had serious damage to his ankle, which has a difficult and long recovery time. A little further down and his toes would have been jeopardized. The boulder fell on a soft spot of Crash’s foot, the perfect spot for a boulder to fall. They physically brought the boulder back from the grandparents house and placed it in their yard, calling to mind the protection Crash had from further injury. Crash can even articulate how God was watching over him and points to his ability to jump on one foot (the foot that was squashed) as proof of God’s goodness. ******

Plaster cast on forearm/wrist/hand. Picture ta...

Not a leg cast, but you get the idea.

This really got me to thinking. How often do we hide our emotional scars and see them as a sign of weakness, rather than celebrating the healing, recovery and humility they produced? Instead of showing off our scars and testifying to God’s power, we hide them as a source of shame. We messed up, we miscalculated, we didn’t think before acting, and something unwanted happened. We could be upfront with this, but usually our instinct is to conceal our screw ups. Somehow we think people have an image of us as infallible. We think will disappoint them if we even admit we are capable of mistakes; imagine how bad it would be if something actually happened. But if we are honest about our shortcomings, we discover that, like scar tissue, we are stronger in that area than we were before, more aware of the dangers or the growth we need. And our relationships are stronger and deeper because they are based on mutual honesty and understanding. [Brene Brown has a lot to say about this (http://www.brenebrown.com), and she’s written books and traveled the country talking about shame and vulnerability. I highly recommend learning more about her.] Too often Church is a beauty pageant, with people prettying themselves up before they arrive, hiding their hurts behind a smile and a handshake. Do we think we will let others down if we admit we are the sinners Christ came to redeem? Isn’t that supposed to be common knowledge? As we continue down the path with Jesus, we get a few things sorted out, but we are still human and still fallible. Sometimes we start to think we’re not. Maybe we even start to become more like the Pharisees from Jesus’ day, the ones who thought they had it all figured out and were quick to point out other people’s shortcomings. We must fight this, no matter how secure we feel in our faith and relationship with Jesus. Because as much as we want to deny it, we are still in need of further transformation. We can always become more fully liberated to be the best version of ourselves. When we get cocky and condescending, it is a hiccup in this process, whether we are aware of it or not. No matter how much we think we’ve got it figured out, there is always more growth we can do. Do you have scars you could celebrate rather than hide? What do you communicate to others about their mistakes? What relationships can you trust to make more authentic and how?

Invest in the end of the School Year

30
May

I want to tell you about something I’m doing, something worthwhile. You’re probably doing it too, and if you’re not, there’s probably still time to begin.

It’s not a big deal from the outside, except that it can be misinterpreted and look like something it’s not. It can look eerily similar to doing less rather than more.

I’m not the only one doing it, but I know that it can feel like a sacrifice, even while being a worthy, pleasant and chosen sacrifice.

What am I doing?

The school year is almost done and I’m pulling away from some of my own goals in order to be a part of my children’s special school activities.

See?

Elementary School Track & Field Day

It’s not a huge thing, right…or is it?

It doesn’t look identical to my version, but you’re probably doing this too in your own way, which is why I want to encourage and acknowledge your effort to be a part of your child’s life, education, friends and memories. Sometimes while we’re there, it seems like our kids don’t really care that we’re a part of that field trip or class party. But later on, when things have quieted and you have a moment together, they’ll probably let you know they were glad you took the time to be there.

Of course you want to be there, in theory.

Of course you want to know their teachers and friends.

Sometimes you can shuffle responsibilities and be at that pizza party, other times it can’t be done.

Sometimes doing what it takes to be there leaves you stressed and sweating.

Sometimes being there is a lot like work. And it can take away from time spent in other areas, even compounding tasks you had to leave for later.

It is worth it.

What if your kids are already on a break from school? You can still start doing nothing, or should I say, you can start being with your kids and put other agenda items on hold for a while. Maybe the beginning of summer break isn’t the best time to do that big clean-out-the-garage project. Maybe with all the kids home you don’t want to begin work on that novel you’ve been itching to write. Perhaps training for that marathon could wait a few weeks or until a different season so it wouldn’t have to take away the time spent with your kids and family.

Even if your child just wants to line up toys, doing it together is a gift.

So great job, friends, for doing less in certain areas so you can be more with your family. I know it isn’t easy, but when you reflect on your own growing-up years, most of us would probably have a new appreciation for the work it took to create positive memories and be present throughout the long but quick days of those foundational years. Be that invested parent. Be the parent you hoped you would be before you actually became one. It’s work, sure, but it is so worth it.

How do you best connect with your family? Are you satisfied with your relationships there, or are there steps you can take to foster deeper connection?

Why I’m Okay with a Little Sass From My Son

24
Apr

Today I’m so happy to tell you about my sassy son who sasses me while drinking a cold glass of sasafrass in the tall grass. Okay let’s be done with that. I apologize. But I am posting over at my friend’s fantastic blog, Chris Morris Writes. And I really am writing about my son, who is developing a little bit of pre-tween attitude (is pre-tween a term? I should copyright that quick!).

Please click here http://wp.me/p3eHCc-dr to read my post, and while you’re there, be sure to dig into other posts Chris has up. He has a unique perspective and is a real stand-up guy. I know you’ll love his blog.

Five Minute Friday: Here

12
Apr

This post is a part of link-up with Lisa Jo Baker (lisajobaker.com) Here’s what she says about it:…on Fridays a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write without worrying if it’s just right gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes.

This week’s prompt was the word “Here” and away we go…

My daughter loves to play tiger…or snow leopards or lions or meer cats.

My son loves to play with Legos and create new intricate vehicles.

My other son loves to draw complicated battle scenes.

They all love to tell me about these things in great detail.

I mean exhausting detail.

Mind numbing detail.

It is hard to listen.

It is hard to want to play meer cats again.

But that is a value I’ve tried to cultivate since having kids, to be here, in this present moment together and actively participating in the moment rather than just nodding and saying absent “Uh-huhs” while not really paying attention.There are times when I’m better at it than others.

There are times when I have to tell my kids that I’m taking a break from listening.

They understand my need to turn off my ears for a while.

They also understand that when they speak I listen. I’m all here.

Scared-y Cat

6
Apr

This post is a result of a writing prompt coordinated by Lisa Jo Baker (http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/) . Here’s what she says about it:

On Fridays around these parts we like to write. Not for comments or traffic or anyone else’s agenda. But for pure love of the written word. For joy at the sound of syllables, sentences and paragraphs all strung together by the voice of the speaker.
We love to just write without worrying if it’s just right or not. For five minutes flat.

Today’s Writing Prompt: After

I tried my first Five Minute Friday post and when I got done with my first five minutes, I balked. Full on chicken moment. It was too personal. It was about childbirth. It was about my daughter. It was about the pain of growing up and common hurts we all face as we grow into adults.

And I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t share it.

I already hide behind a pen name (do you think my parents named me Nita Holiday for real?). It’s mostly in an attempt to separate my writing life and other life. It’s mostly for myself, as an indicator of what hat I’m wearing when I sit down to write.

But it’s also to protect others. My husband. My children. My extended family.

If you don’t know who I am, you can’t judge me. If I keep you at arm’s length, you can’t dismiss me as being too old, too young, too female, too northern. If you deal only with the image I extend to you, then my anonymity keeps me safe.

It also keeps me from dealing with the people around me, making me brave on paper and a people-pleaser in person.

189/365 July 8 – Better Late Than Never (Photo credit: Sharon Drummond)

Hard-Earned Victories Taste Sweetest

2
Apr

Lathe operator machining parts for transport planes at the Consolidated Aircraft Corporation plant, Fort Worth, USA (1942). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Some things are worth doing even if they’re hard.

In college I had a friend for whom everything seemed to come easily. He was from a family with wealth and great connections, he had natural charm and charisma, and he was talented in many areas. It was easy to feel envious of him since, from the outside at least, everything seemed to be handed to him. Every job, every opportunity, every whim, every card seemed to fall in his favor.

In spite of all that, he remained grounded and humble. How did he manage it?

I sometimes wished for the challenge of remaining humble, but when your big plans all seem to be routinely thwarted, you’re automatically kept pretty humble with zero effort.

Flash forward to parenthood.

Our first son (let’s call him Rex) is compliant, pleasant, curious but reserved. He likes to weigh the risks and take in the landscape before trying things.

Contrast that with our second son (we’ll call him Bobo) who is headstrong, bold, intense and a risk-taker.

Sometimes Rex wishes he could be brave like Bobo. But I assure him that it isn’t bravery if you’re not overcoming fear. It doesn’t take courage to enter a situation that doesn’t present you with any danger. And my second son’s danger-gauge is faulty. The victories of parenting are harder won with Bobo. He tests my patience and creativity. He pushes my buttons. And sometimes he just makes me straight-up, plain angry. However, because we’ve had to work so hard to steer him in the appropriate directions, when he chooses those directions freely, it feels like a tidal wave of success.

Rex chooses wisely naturally, so it isn’t that we don’t appreciate his good choices, but the good ones Bobo makes took so much more work, they feel like big deals.

I’ve decided to take this approach to both parenting and writing: Some things are worth the investment of time, even if the results are long in coming.

I love this quote so I’m sharing it even if it’s not the first time:

“Never give up on a dream just because of the time it will take to accomplish it. The time will pass anyway.” Earl Nightingale

Maybe you’ll get rejected hundreds of times. Maybe you’ll want to pull out your hair when you child needs near constant redirection. But the investment of energy in a worthy endeavor is so much more gratifying than energy invested in a flight of fancy that is discarded quickly in favor of some new glittery distraction.

The challenge is to know the difference.

What is the nature of your goal right now? Worthy or glittery? (And a worthy goal can involve glitter, but you know what I mean, right?)

Lace ’em up and get moving.

Once you decide the goal is worth the time it might take to achieve it, then lace up your shoes.

Pull up your big-girl undies. Do what it takes to get off the couch and invest the time.

And when it hurts,

when you think it might not be worth it,

remember why you started.

Remember the relationship goal,

the parenting outcome,

the end result you’re aiming for.

And press on.

I Miss Palm Sunday

25
Mar

Hosanna! (Photo credit: Lawrence OP)

Update: In the original post, I neglected to mention some important information! This blog post is part of a link-up for faith, art and life. To find other blogs that are participating, logon to Twitter and search the Twitter hashtag #faithartlife. There are bound to be a lot of great posts, and I think you’ll be encouraged to discover new bloggers for whom faith is an intricate part of life and art.

My family and I go to a large church in a northern suburb of the Twin Cities. I mean LARGE. And they’ve got great, dynamic, creative kids programming that all my children love being a part of.

But they don’t have Palm Sunday.

At least, they don’t have Palm Sunday the way I had it as a child.

Do you remember?

Remember finally getting to wear the special shoes your mom wouldn’t let you wear unless you were on a rug or carpeted area, even though they were so pretty with their little strap and tiny latch and shiny gold lining?

Remember the fancy dress you got to wear with the lace trim that made it extra-specially special? Maybe it had a petticoat or crinoline if you were really lucky? And you didn’t mind the buttons and how long you had to stand still while someone else buttoned them, as if you were doing them a favor by holding still for so long, rather than seeing what an act of love their buttoning was.

And remember the palm branches the kids all got to wave as they walked through the sanctuary?

“Hosanna, hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!”

You got to sing

and walk down the aisles

and be the center of attention

English: Description: Left Apsis: Jesus entering Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. Fresco in the Parish Church of Zirl, Austria. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

and wave your palm branch

and wave at your parents

and hit your neighbor in the eye with your palm branch,

then try to explain how it was an accident,

then get pushed away by the injured party,

then forget the self control you promised your mother you’d remember and push the one-eyed kid back, just a little bit,

then wave your palm branch vigorously to cover the rude faces you and the kids were now making at each other while standing on the platform in front of the entire congregation.

Afterwards, you’d get to bring your palm branch home, a small piece of greenery to get your through the rest of the Minnesota snowscape, which may or may not be gone by the time you want to look for your Easter basket seven days later. Nothin’ says spring like going on an Easter egg hunt in your parka and snow pants.

Remind me why my church doesn’t do Palm Sunday like we used to when I was little? Oh that’s right, because the grown-ups finally came to their senses.

Disclaimer: Even though it doesn’t sound like it in this post, I really do miss Palm Sunday for the kids. It was a great part of the rhythm of church life, and even though it was sometimes disorderly and had potential for chaos to break out at any moment, it was a time when the adults and children in the church got to share a moment together. And those moments are precious…even if they are messy.

This is what it looks like in late March, 2013 in Minnesota.

This is late March, 2013, in Minnesota. Happy Spring!

Acknowledge Your Inner Goofball

21
Mar

My first grader had his big program at school this week. We’d been hearing all sorts of songs for weeks, songs about amigos, ribbity frogs, thanks-for-coming songs, a lovely assortment of first grade wonders.

This is only half of the entire first grade class

When you get more than 80 first graders up on stage, there are bound to be some shenanigans. They are up there a long time, with no teachers close enough to control them.

Creative freedom.

And an audience.

As you can imagine, there were some wild dance moves on display, some exaggerated waving episodes, and one time when a student sat down on the risers for a nice long break.

But nothing could prepare me for my son’s actions.

Let me prepare you by telling you that this son is a bit of a live wire. He’s all in. Everything he feels, he feels BIG, whether it is grief or elation. And he likes to be funny.

He might get this from his mother.

That being said, I didn’t realize I should have sent a package of tissues in his pocket because he clearly had a nose issue going on while he was onstage.

He picked his nose almost the entire length of one song. I don’t know if he ever was able to remove the offending item from his nostril.

I should have told him where we planned to sit so he could locate us. The poor child had to make goggles with his hands to aid in finding his family in the large crowd.

And apparently he needed a bath more recently because, while his class was on center stage, he was so concerned with his hygiene that he had to smell his own armpit. Then he had to ask his neighbor to smell it. Then, in order to have a baseline for comparison, his neighbor had to smell HIS armpit. Then they had to smell one another’s armpits.

Look at that stylized body hair! (Photo credit: Michael Tinkler)

After the program, as I was going to pick up my son, I ran into an old friend I’m getting re-acquainted with. I asked how his daughter did. He seemed surprised by the question, said she did fine and then commented,

“Did you see those two boys smelling their armpits?”

I answered, “One of them was my son.”

He grinned and exclaimed, “That’s awesome!”

And if I stop to look at it from an outside perspective, it was pretty hilarious. You’d expect nothing less from a first grader. It is the classic, stereotypical behavior that happens at a first grade program.

The thing that made me slightly pleased with myself was that I didn’t hesitate to claim my son as my own. I didn’t smile and nod when my friend pointed to the armpit smelling, acting like I was an innocent observer (“Yeah, can you believe that boy?”). That kid is mine and even when he’s oblivious of the audience (or more aware of them, I’m not sure which) and volatile and intense, I claim him as mine.

Maybe it is because of my own inner goofball. I don’t have as many outlets for it these days, but in the past, I’d be the one who’d volunteer to dress up as a cat for some school assignment, or be the one to get a pie in the face for a fundraising event. I don’t mind being up front and I have no compunction about being made to look a fool, as long as I’m in on the joke.

There’s power in looking silly and not caring that you do. -Amy Poehler

Being released from conventional definitions of what’s acceptable or proper is freeing. There’s something about embracing your inner goofball that makes you feel more alive.

That might be asking a lot for some of you more mature types. A first step can be to acknowledge that you even have an inner dork. Then try to remove a few ladle-fulls of the massive moat of doubt and analysis that keeps you from saying something you really think. Honesty is refreshing, for speaker and the receiver.

I think that’s the fun of writing. You can make anything happen to any character and as long as it rings true, it will hold up. So maybe the act of writing is a way of embracing one’s inner goofball. And, to steal the words of my friend, “That’s awesome.”

What ways do you “wave your freak flag” or release your inner goofball? How do you support your children’s expression of their personalities? What do you think about allowing yourself to speak your mind rather than censoring or modifying your expressed opinions? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Personal Chutes and Ladders

15
Mar

Thrift stores are a treasure trove, especially for those things families outgrow like books, toys, sports equipment, and games.

Fun for Everyone

I walked out of a local thrift store with Boggle Jr., Clue Jr., Sorry, and Chutes and Ladders, in addition to a new green splinter-less butterfly net, a hot commodity at my house.

You probably grew up playing Chutes and Ladders but this week was my first time. My whole crew sat around and played it together; I think my kids are at the perfect ages since they are five, seven and nine years old.A quick refresher on Chutes and Ladders; you spin the…spinner (is there another word for it?) and move your piece on the game board. The great twist to this game is the addition of chutes or slides, and ladders. If you land on a chute, it takes you back a bunch of spaces. If you land on a ladder, you get launched forward a bunch of spots.

They could have stopped there, but the game creators took it one more step. They incorporated drawings to indicate cause and effect. If you mow the lawn, you are rewarded with a trip to the circus. Pull the cat’s tail, slide down the chute to the picture of you with all sorts of Band Aids and the cat licking its paws. Do this, and that will happen.

I don’t think that every moment in a child’s day needs to have a moral lesson, but this game makes it SO easy. The next time we play I plan to use specific, real-life examples from my kids’ lives to illustrate the cause and effect lessons.

Wouldn’t it be great if it was as obvious for us adults?

Many times it seems like there aren’t the immediate consequences of childhood, positive and negative.

Pad the books, and you will probably get away with it for a while before anyone notices.

Stay late and help out your fellow workers, and it can take a superior a long time to pay any attention to your extra efforts.

The cause and effect is delayed.

I really believe the strength of character required to do the right thing makes it worth it because of the internal reward. However, it is important to weigh our motives, because even something that can sound like a good idea, if not done with the right motive, can be less than noble.

Allow me to give an example:

My sister and brother in law and my parents hit a rough patch about a year ago. They’ve been working to make things better, but there have been moments of tension. At one point my sister and my mother were both talking to me about the situation, from their respective points of view. This was a tricky position for me, as I usually tried to maintain the peace as much as I could.

That’s the background. So then when I learned there was a potentially volatile issue that was probably going to come to a head in the next month, I felt compelled to bring it up with my lovely sister. My excuse? That I wanted her to be aware of the opposing point of view (that of my parents) so she wouldn’t be caught off guard when they were upset.

The real reason?

I wanted to talk to my sister about it so that when it blew up, I could say I had tried to do my part, had fulfilled my role as peacekeeper, to head off the impending storm. Upon further reflection, however, I came to a different conclusion.

Basically I was trying to cover my butt.

Luckily, there was no storm and things remain amiable. But sometimes the things we do that are good, are only good insofar as they don’t cause harm but the motive behind the action is sketchy. I don’t really enjoy examining my motives, but as I get a little older and my behavior is less obviously “bad” I find that the purpose behind my actions is important to consider.

Enough of all the heavy. Here’s a hilarious (and mostly clean) version of a super fun song, to round out this post. Enjoy! http://www.nbc.com/saturday-night-live/video/macklemore-and-ryan-lewis-thrift-shop/n33498/

You Are Not Ordinary

8
Mar

Back in elementary school, kids frequently got pulled out of class for various reasons. There were always people coming and going: bathroom breaks, trips to the nurses office, delivering the attendance and lunch count to the office, help with reading. But more noteworthy were the times when a couple select children would leave the room at the same time to go to a special class for gifted kids. They never said much about it, and I was too self-absorbed to be curious about it (those projects weren’t going to magically cut themselves out of construction paper).

These were the kids who were known as brainy or creative. They weren’t shunned because of it, they were respected, even admired. There was the tall, Amazonian girl with the flowing red hair, the preppy blond boy with ruddy complexion and quick wit, the shy girl with the notebook of beautiful sketches. They were mysterious, dynamic and exclusive; not just anyone could be a part of their special club. You couldn’t simply perform a dare and prove your worthiness; it required an assessment administered by professionals. I wanted to be gifted. I wanted to a part of their club. And when it didn’t happen, I felt it. I felt less special because I wasn’t as special as they were.

Dash, in the movie The Incredibles, is in elementary school and has a hard time restraining his special superpower: speed. His mom, Helen (the mild-mannered alter-ego persona to her Elastigirl), lectures him in the car, goes on about how he must conceal his secret powers. He wants to be special. Helen tells him that everyone is special. Dash replies, “Which means that nobody is.”

If everybody’s special, does that mean that nobody is special?

What’s so wrong with being ordinary?

There is a belief subtly creeping into Christian circles that if you are obedient and genuinely follow God, He will bless you. You’ll be successful, you’ll be wise and avoid major pitfalls in life, you’ll be affluent. Nevermind that the Bible teaches, “In this world you will have trouble, but take heart. I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33 and don’t freak out just yet, I don’t usually throw Bible quotes around.) The belief that we will be outwardly successful is a twist on the already insidious Prosperity Gospel that leads to disillusionment and doubt.

I’ve seen too many true followers of Jesus have heart-wrenching struggles and calamities to buy into Prosperity Theology or the Health and Wealth Gospel. It implies that if you just believed more, you wouldn’t get passed over for that promotion. If you just prayed more diligently, your child wouldn’t get that disease, your house wouldn’t catch on fire, or that cute boy would like you.

It doesn’t happen like that.

Construction paper colors (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We aren’t special because of the external things that have gone well for us. We aren’t ordinary because we live regular lives. We are all special (and we are) because we are made in the image of God, called by Him to wholeness and a true identity in Christ. We are most fully released to be most true selves when we internalize our status as thoroughly adored by the Creator who knows us better than we know ourselves.

That’s one reason why I love the title of this blog: www.aroyaldaughter.com She understands her true identity. Ultimately, she is a royal daughter. She is (at risk of sounding corny) a princess.

Being a Royal means that you might live differently, more confidently, willing to take risks, more engaged in the world around you. You might have more compassion or be in tune with places that need support and then feel equipped to do something about it. You might be more appreciative of all the good around you that you had nothing (or very little) to do with and yet it is yours to benefit from and enjoy. You might choose to speak in a way that befits one with a royal lineage.

So since you are made in the image of God, whether you actively follow Him or not, how might that make you more awake today? What thoughts could you think, what things could you do if you believed that you were in fact, royalty?