“Does he have shoes?” the childcare worker asks as I hoist my two-year-old over the half door. “Nope.” is my unusually short response. There isn't time to say more. I’m late. But the explanations I wanted to offer rattle around in my head as I walk away. I feel my jaw tensing and try to relax it. I had them in my hand. But I left them on the ground when I turned to help his brother, then I stood and got into the car myself while asking another brother bouncing in the middle seat to explain why he wasn’t buckled. Then we were pulling out, but the shoes stayed in the garage. So really I remembered the shoes, I just also forgot them. 

 

I notice I’m holding my breath and focus on trying to not do that as my hurried steps turn up the volume on the singing that has already begun in our leader’s gathering at the other end of the building. I transition to welding a patchwork of new explanations and excuses that will serve as an invisible shield for me as I walk in late to try to find the one empty chair that will be left in the circle. Someone always has to poop right as it’s time to go. But maybe I waited too long to ask if anyone needed to poop. I wish it had been the baby that pooped. Now he’ll inevitably be having his morning poop in childcare. And there’s no doubt he wont tell anyone he needs to go and will just poop in his pull up. Four weeks into potty training. I’m sure they’re wondering why I don’t just put him back in diapers. His brothers never needed the pull ups. Why can’t I just be consistent? Why can’t he just get it? 

 

Maybe my imaginary shield makes me invisible because they keep singing as if I never walked in at all. Or maybe as if I’d been there all along. I can’t tell. I scan the circle of shoes. Do they get why I’m late? I wonder if she was ever late when her kids were little. My lips move as I sing the familiar words we begin with each week.

 

For in my need, His power is displayed… 

 

My raise my eyes and scan the circle of faces now. Some eyes are closed, some hands are raised, some hair is curled. I wonder if she used a wand or a curling iron. I wonder where her kids were while she curled her hair. How did she get here on time? How did she get here on time and also look like that? I bet her husband helped. Mine was gone before the kids got up. I want to tell that to everyone. Just in case they’re wondering why I’m late and why my hair looks like this. My lips keep moving. I think I messed up the harmony on that last line. The other alto across the way took a different route. I sing too loudly. I feel glad that none of them know that Henry doesn’t have shoes today. 

 

 

I start thinking of what I can do differently next week to be on time with no bare feet. Geez, could I be any more self-centered? They’re not thinking about me. They’re thinking about the words of the song they’re singing. I start to think about the words too. 

 

 

I think of the dozens of pleas I’ve made since I shut the door to my mini van in the parking lot. I’ve been swinging like a pendulum between shame and blame, desperate to defend myself and silently begging for a benediction. I just want someone to tell me I’m okay. And there it is in the lyrics I almost just mindfully mouthed: the gospel. I’m okay. 

 

I’m okay, not because my kids’ untimely bowel movements or my humanity or my lack of capacity are good enough scapegoats, but because Jesus bled and suffered for my pardon. 

 

I set down the shield of self-justification and the sword of my shame and begin to redress myself with the armor of God.

 

 

We repeat that last stanza. Now my eyes are closed. I’m breathing. I believe what I’m singing. My hope is only Jesus. The song ends. 

 

I sit on the coffee cup I hastily set on my chair when I walked in late. 

It spills. 

There’s a sign on the door that says “All Cups Must Have Lids.”

Mine didn't. The seat of my jeans is soaked.

But I’m okay. 

Christ is my righteousness.

 

One woman gets paper towels. An older friend looks at me and winks with a subtle smile. The aged hand of another gives my shoulder a little squeeze. I’m safe. I’ve got the benediction of Jesus. And these women are here to remind me. I’m okay.

 

You're okay too, you know. And you and I would both do well to identify those false functional saviors as soon as they pop up. However silly or subtle the scenario may seem. Because they can't save. There's no better covering than that which Jesus offers. What do you soothe yourself with when you start to feel shame? Don't settle for the emperor's new clothes of comparison and self-justification. Dress yourself in the covering your savior has bought for you. 

 

He has compassion for your humanity. 

He has a covering for your sin.

You're okay.
 

 

with humble gratitude,

 

Easter is such a great time to start doing some sort of formal discipleship in your home if you never have! We're excited to try out this Road to Redemption set of cards and JUMBO coloring sheet from Tiny Theologians. We all know kids do best when they're engaged, and coloring sheets have been so helpful for us!

 

 The cards are simple and easy to use, and they invite children to do three key things: 1) Read from Scripture each day, 2) Learn about the key events on each day of Easter week (like the triumphal entry, the last supper, his prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, trial and crucifixion, burial, and victorious resurrection) and 3) Ask good, important questions about how these truths change their hearts and lives today.

Have you ever thought your kid didn't hear you, so you repeated yourself, only to have them clap back with “I heard you!” or “I'm doing it!”? Have you issued directions to your kids, then discovered your directions weren't followed, only to feel as if you can't issue any sort of discipline because they “never heard you?”

 

This little phrase is one we use to avoid repeating ourselves, and also, to train our kids to acknowledge our words so we can make sure we're all on the same page. One of our family maxims is “We don't ignore one another” simply because all image bearers have dignity and are therefore worthy of being treated with respect. But also, because David and I are their parents, our kids are expected to show us respect as authority figures.

 

So, here's how this might play out.

 

Me: “Hey, when you take your socks off, please make sure they end up in the hamper.”

My son: keeps walking with no response

Me: Respect Responds…

My son: Yes ma'am, Mama. I'll put them in the hamper.

 

This little exchange reinforces our roles in this family, protects us against misunderstandings, and ensures that directions are followed. 

 

We might also use it in public if an adult asks one of our kids a question and they fail to acknowledge that question. “Respect responds…” in a whisper reminds them that we never ignore someone who speaks to us. Even if what we say is, “I'm not really up for a conversation.”

 

So how might you lay the ground work for this exchange? Perhaps like this, “Hey, I've noticed sometimes when I tell you to do something, it seems like you can't hear me. Sometimes it even feels like ignore me. Because all people are valuable, we don't ignore anyone. But, because I'm your mom/dad, its especially important that you don't ignore me. It's disrespectful to ignore someone. I'm committed to your good. I'm committed to helping you cultivate respect for others and especially people who are responsible for you like teachers, coaches, or yeah, your parents. For that reason, we're going to try something new. I'd like you to respond to me when I say something to you. If you don't respond, I'll remind you to respond by saying ”respect responds…" and give you the chance to remember before assuming you're being disrespectful on purpose. Okay?" Then, maybe pray with your child that God will help you to respect one another and enable your child to value your direction and help you both to value his!

 

*Note: we also practice something we call “respect and reason.” The idea here is, if they can be respectful, I can be reasonable. For example, if I say, “Time to get out of the shower.” They can use respect and reason like this: “Mom, I know you said it's time to get out of the shower, but may I have 3 more minutes?” The requirement is that they repeat the instruction back to me before asking to alter it. It offers a hopeful alternative to “I WANT MORE!" Sometimes I thank them for their respectful request and deny it, citing a loving reason that isn't possible…or asking them to trust me. Other times, as often as possible, I grant it, but not before acknowledging their respect. It's important for them to know I'm on their side and not some sort of unreasonable tyrant. This practice maintains the standard for respect and rehearses a healthy practice of dialogue that I hope will both help cultivate wisdom and also lay a solid foundation for us to have good conversations about limits in the teen years.

 

 

 

In my effort to move away from using dryer sheets, I discovered that there are all different kinds of wool dryer balls. I bought these little woodland creatures and have been getting so tickled as I find them poking out of sleeves or tumbling out of a load of towels like they're scurrying. It's made the laundry really fun lately.

 

So, I didn't send a newsletter last month, sort of because January is just a really loud month on the internet, but also because I was mostly just processing our decision that our family, as far as we were concerned, was complete. It felt sort of raw and roller coaster like to drive my husband home from that appointment, but I felt like I wanted to share a few things about how we made this decision and the thoughts surrounding it, you know, since y'all are a little less scary than the gram (where you will NOT find me talking about this). If I had to explain why we decided against “trying” to have another baby, I'd sum it up like this: 

A: Lately, I'm waking up at 5:30am. Yikes. I know. I choose the work outs ahead of time and usually start by 5:45am after getting dressed, stretching, and throwing something in the washer. Then I use what's left before the kids get up for COFFEE, bible study, prayer, maybe showering depending on the day, and moving that load to the dryer. Working out at rest just wasn't working anymore. Occasionally I will save the work out for the kids if its pilates or strength, but I'd rather play a game or read with them. Besides, it's not really safe for me to work out with our two-year-old. He's on top of me the whole time. This also helps me with not staying up too late. I couldn't have sustained it last year. But its the best thing for me in this season.

 

A: Honestly, I wouldn't force it. It could be a personality thing of not wanting to be put on the spot. Or it could be shyness? But even if it's hardness of heart, forcing them wont soften it. Besides, when do we like to talk? And who do we like to talk to? Who do we talk with most freely? Those with whom we feel safe. I think the wisest thing to do is to make prayer simple and accessible when you model it. In the mornings, we go around the table and ask “How do you need God's help today?” Then pray right there, “Please help Walter with self control today." or “Please help Henry know when he has to potty.” or “Please help Daddy not be anxious about his listing appointment.” AMEN. That's it. Then when we ask, "Who wants to pray for Will's request? It feels do-able for the kids. I'd also HIGHLY recommend this book from Laura Wifler. It's helped ALL OF US in this house with prayer.

 

A: Besides the dryer balls? HA! My very favorite thing right now is how Henry (our two-year-old) asks me to “unbutton” anything he can't open. Doors, fruit leather wrappers, his jacket zipper, his car seat buckle, his lunch box clasp… and thing closed that he wants open “Mama, aw you peez unbutton dis?”

I never want him to stop.

 

The folks at Family Life Today recently aired a conversation I was honored to have with Dave and Ann about God's Care in the Face of Miscarriage, and another one about Marriage and Miscarriage. They're two of the most honest and vulnerable interviews I've ever done. I hope they'll be a blessing to you if you have suffered this sort of loss, or to any friend in that category to whom you may send it.

“So when the devil throws your sins in your face and declares that you deserve death and hell, tell him this: "I admit that I deserve death and hell, what of it? For I know One who suffered and made satisfaction on my behalf. His name is Jesus Christ, Son of God, and where He is there I shall be also!”

-Martin Luther

I'll save my best work and thoughts for this list, but I'll still be posting on the gram. If we're not connected there, I'd love for you to come follow along! Just click one of these “lately” photos below!