Why Autism Friendship is a Thing of Beauty

        There is beauty in friendships.  Friendships of all kinds, but there is a unique beauty in friendships with people on the Autism Spectrum.  The Doctor's best friend has Autism.  (For this post, I'll call him "the Friend," for his and his family's privacy.)

        Now, there are a few things you should know about my family and me before I go any further:

        1.  None of my children are on the spectrum.  They are all

        neuro-typical.  This is not a point of pride, just a statement of

        fact.

        2.  I am not advocating for people with Autism.  I am woefully

        unqualified to do this.  Plus, I find it awkward when people try

        to advocate for "other" groups.  At best it comes across as

        patronizing, at worst, it comes across as offensive.  (You know,

        the "Be kind to the poor [fill in this blank with a random group]

        people.  You might be the only friend they have!"  Makes me

        want to hurt someone.)

        3.  I am also not advocating for parents of children with Autism. 

        They are the best advocates I know, and no one has asked me

        to advocate for them.  It, quite honestly, is not my place.

        4.  I AM advocating for my own children.  After all, they're the

        children I love best in the world, and the ones that I advocate

        for most naturally!

        With all that in mind, I want to give you the reasons that I am so thankful that the Doctor has a dear friend with Autism:

1.     Acceptance.  What could be better than someone who accepts you for who you are, without manipulating you into feeling like you need to change to be loved?  Well, that's what the Doctor has found in the Friend.  He has NOT ONCE ever made her feel like she's "less worthy" of his friendship.  He has never manipulated her into doing something she doesn't want to do.

2.     Another mom loves my child.  Along with #1, the Friend's mom LOVES my child.  (Well, all three of my children.)  She is in "the Doctor's corner" so to speak.  Take a moment to let it sink in how HUGE that is.  It's hard to find that within families, let alone friends.

3.     Total family acceptance.  The Friend not only cares for the Doctor.  He has accepted all three girls totally.  Fidget is often the recipient of his care.  I'll give you a quick story to summarize what this looks like.  The Friend's mom and I took all our kids to a movie one time.  Fidget got upset about half-way through, and the Friend loaned her his brand-new stuffed animal to comfort her.  He didn't make a big deal out of it, he just saw her crying and did what he could to make it better.

4.     Understanding and empathy.  This is another "story" one, because the Friend's actions explain it best.  One Sunday after church, the Doctor was upset because her paper tore.  So, he hunted down a new piece of paper for her.  No fuss, no big deal made, just saw a hurting friend and did what he could to fix it.

5.     He lends her his "brave."  The Doctor had always been cautious, often to the point of fearful.  (She is the oldest after all!)  She wants to know it's all "safe."  But the Friend isn't concerned as much about "safety."  (Sensory Processing Disorder and Autism often go hand-in-hand, and the Friend is no exception.)  He is very physical, and while he has NOT ONE TIME ever made the Doctor feel like a scaredy cat for not following, he has encouraged her to test her limits.  As a result, she is far more confident in her own skin, and in the world around her.  He has helped her overcome her fear simply by taking her along if she's willing, but being perfectly content to do things alone if she isn't.  How many friendships can make that claim?  Encouragement without manipulation.  It's a beautiful thing.

6.     This one is completely selfish -- drama-free friendship for me.  The Friend's mom and I have become close.  I don't have to feel bad when last-minute plans fall through, because she has learned an amazing amount of flexibility.  We rarely make "hard and fast" plans, because we have ten kids between us!  But if I need something, she's the first on my call list.  She can keep a confidence like no one else.  And she loves my kids.  If something comes up, she's not going to be "sharing" with 354 of her best friends on FB.  If I have to cancel, I can be honest, and disappointed, without worry that she'll think I don't care about my kids, or her, or whatever else.  She understands.  What a gift!

7.     The beauty of "messy life" lived honestly together.  Life in this fallen world is messy.  Always.  All too often, our "friendships" are based only on the best, most polished bits of us.  This breaks down quickly with a "special needs" family.  The beauty of this for me is this -- I don't feel like I need to keep up the "spit-shined" image, either.  When I am tired, or weepy, or struggling, I have a true friend who will listen, and pray for me.  And still keep caring.

        OK, I think this is long enough.  But I think it's time that NT parents advocate for our OWN children by fostering friendships with children on the spectrum.  Not because our children "can learn a lot" from the "patience" needed, nor because "those children NEED our children to befriend them."  (Seriously, I've seen that attitude several times, and it makes me SICK!)  Rather because, these friendships are an absolute gift, a treasure, rare and beautiful for the NT kids.  And their mamas.

Doing it all

          "How do you do it all?!"

           I hear this question most of the time when I tell someone I homeschool.  Rarely do I hear the "socialization" question, and NEVER when my girls are with me.  If you know my girls, you know socializing isn't an issue.  And it only takes about ten seconds to realize this.

          So I get that question up top.  Normally, I smile, and say, "I don't know how moms get their kids out the door on time for school."  In other words, I deflect.

          The truth is, I don't do it all.  I don't even try to do it all.  And quite honestly, I think it's time to stop asking each other that question.

          The implication is that, somehow, I am SUPPOSED to do it all.  But I'm not.  I can't.  I am one woman with three children who are where I am all day, every day.  Most days, that's home.  But they go with me to the store, the library, even some doctor visits.  To have blood drawn, even (and recently).

          The truth is, my house is most often a mess.  The "guest room" is unrecognizable at the moment, mostly because it has become storage.  My sewing room is a disaster, with boxes all over the floor, and projects covering the table.  I would give my left arm for someone to come in once a week, or even once every-other-week to clean for me.  I'm not a great housekeeper even when school is on break.

          I don't grow my own wheat, or my own cattle.  I am hopeless with plants.  My oldest now has a greenhouse.  I'm hoping as long as I stay clear, the plants will have a chance to survive.

          If I make my own bread, it is most likely done, at least partially, in a bread machine.  With store-bought, bleached flour.

          Snacks are fruit.  Whole.  Not arranged into pretty faces, or skeletons with cut up bell peppers.  And no dipping sauces, either.

          My clothes, and those of my husband and children, come from the store.  (With few exceptions.  I ADORE sewing, just don't have time for it.)

          I also don't work outside the home.  Getting my children out the door is a challenge, what with all the lost shoes and whatnot.

          Lunch is usually one of two options -- peanut butter sandwiches or vegetable soup.  Occasionally there's nachos, but not often.

          I do cook most evenings.  But there's always Costco pizza and Taco Bell on the Engineer's way home from work.  And I take advantage of that more often than I "should."

          I don't lapbook (I know, you've just revoked my homeschool mother card).  I don't scrapbook.  The pictures are almost exclusively on the computer still.

          I do, however, have three children with lively imaginations, who know how to talk to adults, how to be gentle with smaller children, and how to approach an unfamiliar dog.  The girls are inquisitive, boundlessly curious about everything in their world.  They know themselves and their strengths.  They are proud of their quirks, of who God has created them to be.

          I have a husband who is, without a doubt, doing the job he was created for.  And he's good at it.

          I know I am doing the right thing for my family and myself.  But I am not doing it all.  I can't.  I won't even try.  And I won't ask you "How do you do it all?"  Because chances are, you aren't.  You can't.  And you should probably stop trying to.

          Let's give each other some grace.  Grace to not look exactly like one another, grace to not be able to do it all.  Grace to not have it all together.  Grace to let our own personalities shine.

          Please, let's stop asking, "How do you do it all?"  It just isn't possible.  And the collective guilt is killing us.

When I am Forgotten... But Not Really

Today I heard good news from a friend about mutual acquaintance.  And I was happy for her.  And sad for myself.  And more than a little envious.

Oh, I don't want to take her blessing away.  I just want a similar blessing for myself.  Desperately.  I have prayed for YEARS for a miracle that would allow this blessing in my family's life.  I have cried, pleaded, begged for this same blessing from God for such a long time.

And still I wait.  So often, I feel forgotten.  So often, I feel as though there is no plan, no miracle for me.  I struggle.  I cry.  I sob and beg.  And still, nothing.  Silence.  No miracle, no promise, no hope of a miracle.

Sometimes, it's easy.  Sometimes, I can let life just go on as it is.  Sometimes, I get derailed by the wonderful blessings of others.  And it seems unfair.

Because God does not promise us health, or wealth, or happiness, or even our wants.  He promises that all will work together for good for those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose.  But that good may very well await in eternity, not now or here.

Sometimes, all I can cling to, all I can cry is an echo of the apostles, "To whom shall I go?  You have the words of eternal life."  Where else can I go?  I'll admit, if there truly was an easier way, I'm sure I'd at the very least be tempted to take it.  Some days, I so badly want to throw in the towel.

But I'm reminded that this isn't about me.  It's not about what's in it for me.

"Q: What is the chief end of man?
A: Man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever."  (Westminster Shorter Catechism.)

That's what it's about.  Glorifying Him.  Sometimes -- OK, often -- I cannot see how He will be glorified in the circumstances, how His glory will shine through my situation.  I cannot see the good that He's working.  But then I look again -- it's my job to glorify Him through all of this.

Even when I feel forgotten.

Even when it seems unfair.

Even when what I long for, what I cry out about is a good thing, a blessing only He can provide.

Even when it seems that there is no plan.

Even when I cannot see the next step.

Even when I cry, beg, plead, and Heaven is silent.

I must -- I must -- glorify Him.  After all, He has the words of eternal life.  He's the only one who does.

"The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD." (Job 1:21b).

10,000 Hours

I've been hearing and reading an interesting tidbit of information.  Apparently, it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become world-class at something, anything.

That got me to thinking... 10,000 hours...  at 10 hours per day, that's about two and three-quarter years.  At the other extreme, one hour a day, a bit under twenty-seven and a half.

I guess here's the thing.  I'm going to be doing something for those 10,000 hours, right?  What will be my world-class skill?  Rocking-chair jockey?  Homeschool mom?  Wife?  Loving individual?  Servant?

I would imagine that 10,000 hours needs to be deliberate, a choice.  One that includes learning new skills, acquiring a deepening knowledge and understanding of the skill at hand.

I guess it's mostly a wake-up call.  Assuming no ill health, and no insomnia, I'll have been awake for 10,000 hours by (roughly) 1 November 2016.

What will I do with those 10,000 waking hours?  What goals, dreams, skills will I work on?  Where -- and who -- will I be 10,000 waking hours from now?

OK, enough philosophizing for now.  But it is an interesting thought to ponder, isn't it?

The Unworthy (Terrible) Servant

I have been struggling for a while.  For a long time (years, maybe), I begged God to allow me to see myself as He sees me.

In my mind, I had visions of being assured of being His beloved child, of Him showing me how much He cares.

Instead, the passage that leapt out at me one morning was Luke 17:7-10.  Yeah.  Not what I wanted to hear.  Not a passage I can recall ever hearing a sermon on, in fact.  "Unworthy servant?!"

I cried.  Several times over the next several days.  Each time my attitude about something stunk, I would pray, "I am an unworthy servant."

See, I am a terrible servant.  I don't WANT to serve.  I want to be left alone, to be allowed to do my thing, or sometimes, for others to serve me.  I want to help those whom I choose, when I choose.  And my heart rebels at the thought of being God's servant.  And admitting my unworthiness.

I've been struggling again more recently.  Rebellion against the whole servant thing again.  It happens a lot with me.  Some people seem to naturally serve.  Not me.

The verse that keeps coming to mind? Galatians 6:9 "And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up."  Mostly, the "do not grow weary" part keeps reverberating in my head.  But I am weary.

So what to do?  I pray.  I am learning to pray differently.  To focus on how much I have been forgiven, on what I am to do, not on the shortcomings of others.  I am learning to ask that God change ME, my heart. my attitudes, and actions.

I am just beginning to see that I need to be doing things in service to God.  In the story in Luke, I believe that God is the Master.  It's Him I am serving, not people.  Yes, the people around me may benefit from that service, but the service must be rendered to God, because He commands it, not because they need it, or I can do it, or it's convenient to my schedule.  So, I guess it's time for changes.  Changes that do not come easily to me.

Left to myself, I would not serve.  My very being rebels at the thought.  But I am a new creation in Christ, so serve I must.  Starting with those closest to me.  The ones who know me best, and the ones that I most expect to serve me. 

Good night, and God bless.

Ugly Speech (or Why I Rarely am Controversial on Facebook)

Facebook -- I love it and I hate it.  I have a FB page, and several friends.  Many of whom do not agree with me, or with each other, on various topics.  Most of these topics are benign, like whose baseball team should win the World Series, or whether Clemson University or the University of South Carolina has the best football team.  (Go Tigers!)

Some of these things, however, are controversial.  Like abortion, corporal punishment, the Second Amendment, school choice, capital punishment, and politics.  I have opinions on all those topics.  Very strong opinions.  But I very rarely, if ever, voice them on Facebook.

Why?

Several reasons, really, the main one being I don't like where "discourse" in this country is going.  Or not going, as the case may be.  One person jumps on FB and posts a comment with a strong pro- or anti- opinion on one of the above topics.  Someone else jumps in with an opposing view.  Sometimes, they are civil.  Most of the time, they are not.  Then the original poster gets angry, and the original two, plus various supporters on each side, jump in and call names, cast aspersions, get ugly and personal.  It's just not worth it.

I am called to be salt and light in this world.  Christ said that the world will know us by our LOVE.  Not by our clinging to our "rights" or clinging to our opinions.  I cannot win someone to Christ if I will not love them.  And calling ugly names is not loving someone, no matter how important the issue is.  It will not matter in eternity where someone stood on the sanctity of life if they have rejected Christ.  And woe to me if they reject Christ because of me, because they know I claim His name.  Christ was humble.  Yes, He stood up to corruption within His people.  He called THEM names, said "harsh" things to them.  But why?  Because He was zealous that people be able to get to Him, and to His Father, and these people were standing in the way.

Sound much like today's discourse with so-called Christians?  Are we standing in the way of people coming to Christ by the way we talk, to them and each other, when we disagree?  Would those names that Christ called the Pharisees and other leaders of HIS people back then fit us today?  Would they fit me?  All too often, the answer is "yes."

I'll admit -- this is an area of weakness for me.  I like being "right."  I like having just the thing to say to fire back at someone who is "wrong."  I know if I post something, or comment on something, that a firestorm might ensue.  That things will be said to me, and I will say things back.  And I will have hard feelings toward the person who was harsh or just plain mean.  So, I keep my thoughts to myself.  I prevent myself from sinning in the future by not speaking now.  Generally, the point I would have made is already being articulated by someone else anyway.  It's a way of loving others for me.  Others can handle the back-and-forth with grace; without firing back, or holding a grudge.  I struggle with those two things, so I keep quiet.

Another reason is this -- I will not change someone's mind with a FB post.  I will not make someone see things "my" way.  And they will not change mine.  The best I can hope for is an "agree to disagree."  Which, in my opinion, is best done one-on-one and face to face.  You see, tone is lacking on a FB status or comment.  I may write something that is sarcastic in my head, but it may be read seriously.  (Or vice-versa.)  Plus, once something is "out there," it is out there for all time.  Ten years from now, that topic may be moot, but the harm I may have caused will still stand.

Finally, I do not know everything about everything.  Often, the topic involves the "controversy du jour."  And I rarely have all the facts.  I do not know the situation, the ins and outs of various things.  Sometimes, what seems to be the case isn't, and the unlikely is exactly what happened.  It is best to hold my tongue (or, as it has been said, "better to be silent and thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt.")

So, generally, I keep quiet on controversy on FB, saving my opinions for those who know me and my heart.  Afterall, my primary objective is to be salt and light, and the best way to do that is to LOVE others.

Lessons for my Children -- I Mean, Me!

I have been reading the Little House series aloud to the girls each afternoon, about a half-hour a day.  As we read the stories, I marvel at the sweetness of both Laura and Mary.  I am touched by how little they "neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed" or even want.

And I am tempted.  I am tempted to point out to my children, "See, girls!  You see how Laura and Mary were excited to receive a cup for their Christmas present?!  And how a peppermint stick and a little cake were a bonus, and more than enough?  And how that shiny penny apiece were 'almost too much'?  See girls, they didn't have much at all, but were thankful for every little thing."

But then I am reminded to look at Caroline.  "Ma" cooked over an open fire, either outdoors (let that sink in -- she did all her family's meals camping-style, even when they lived in a house!) or indoors (over her fireplace).  Glass windowpanes were a luxury not always to be had, and when Charles brought home fabric for her to make a new dress for herself, she didn't tell him she'd rather have picked the fabric herself.  No!  She told him it was all too much.  Her heart was that of a homemaker, a loving wife and mother.  She had so little, and asked for not much more than that.  And she was thankful for it all.  She found reason to be thankful when her chimney caught fire and almost burned her home and family down.  She found reason to be thankful when her home was burglarized as she and her children were standing there, looking on, unable to stop the thieves. 

And I am convicted.  I have so much -- too much, if I am honest.  All of my needs, and the vast majority of my wants, and yet I want "more."  Instead of thankfulness, my heart is greedy.  I know that more, bigger, newer, faster, better won't make me happy, but I sure want to find out for myself.  Just to make sure.

The little apples don't fall far from the tree, I'm afraid.  If I am ungrateful, I cannot expect to find gratefulness in my children.  If I am constantly seeking fulfillment in "stuff," I cannot be exasperated when I notice my children doing the same.  I cannot lecture them into a better way.  If I do that, all I am teaching them is hypocrisy.  I am teaching them that as long as the words are correct, the works don't matter.  And that is a lesson far too easily taught and learned in this world.

So, I keep these thoughts to myself.  I am learning.  And one day, maybe I'll understand this whole parenting thing.  Possibly in time for the grandbabies to start coming.

Perspective

Today was the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church.  Of course, our pastor spoke on persecution throughout history, both of the Jewish people, and of Christians.

To say it was a tough sermon would be a gross understatement.  I know it's cliché, but hearing the stories of men, women, children, and families being mistreated, abused, kicked out of their homes, killed, or forced to watch as their family members are killed really brought home how very small my problems are.  And how big God is.

A God who sustains these men and women as they face the worst this world has to offer, and still has time to hear my prayers over the nothingness that are my "needs."  A God who loves those killing His children, loves them enough to save them, should they repent.  And still loves me, in spite of my cowardice.  A God who holds all of history, and chooses, for His own good reasons, to allow this all to happen.  A God who truly sees the big picture of it all, whose heart breaks with His children, and who sings over His sons and daughters.  A God who longs for relationship, and who created that same longing within us.  This same God wants each of us, wants YOU to be His.  How incredible, how amazing is that?!

Building Up, or Tearing Down

Have you ever seen a building implode?  In mere seconds, a building that took months to build becomes a pile of rubble.  I know there's a lot of work that goes into it beforehand, to make sure that the building doesn't fall down on the neighbors.  But in the end, tearing down only takes minutes, or even seconds.

Building that building took months, or even years.

Let that sink in.  Building up takes far more time and effort than tearing down.

I can build up my brothers and sisters in Christ for years, decades even, and all that can be undone in moments by bad choices.

My witness can be decimated with just a few bad decisions.  And Christ's reputation is harmed.

I can leave friendships and family relationships broken and bleeding by my refusal to take the log from my own eye first.  It's really not that hard.

And yes, there is a time to tear down, as well as a time to build up.  There is certainly a time to tear down rotten walls, or poor foundation.  But then the rebuilding comes.  And it takes time.  Much more time that the tearing down.

Every day, I must decide if today is a day of tearing down or building up.  I must make a conscious choice as to whether or not I'm going to build up the foundation and walls of my husband and children, of my relationship with God.

Today, I chose to build.  It's slow work, sometimes painfully slow.  But one day, I will reap the rewards of the work, if I do not quit.  Maybe (probably), some portions will need tearing down one day.  No one is perfect, and I am certainly no exception.  But as God helps, and He allows, I will build up those around me.

I Am NOT Enough

There are several posts/pins floating around Facebook and Pinterest (and maybe other places, but I'm only on those two.)  It goes through various statements about "I am ...."  and ends with "And I am enough."

But that's simply not true.  I am not enough.  I am not enough by design.  I am not enough for my husband, my children, my parents, friends, brother and sister, and so forth.  I am not enough even for me!

I have tried the whole "being enough" thing.  And the weight is too much to bear.  I have tried to do it all, or at least give the appearance of doing it all.  I have tried so very hard not to need anyone else.  And I have failed miserably in the attempt.  And yet, I continued to try.  And worse, I looked to others to "be enough" at times.

Here's the thing -- there is One Who Is Enough.  But only One.

And my "not enough-ness" is designed to point me and others to His enough-ness.  My finite capabilities to meet needs, solve problems, and take care of things is not an accident.  God does not do things by accident.  He wants us to depend on Him,  He wants us to look to Him as our "enough."  And then, He wants us to point others to Him as enough.

So, if I set myself up as "enough," then I hamper others.  I put a stumbling block between them and God.  I set myself up in God's place in their lives.  And that is a very dangerous thing indeed!

When I claim to be enough, even for me, I make the claim to not need God.  But I am finite.  And the need is infinite.  I have limits, but the need is deeper, broader, and far more than my limits can reach.  You see, the true need is salvation, a relationship with the Creator.  And I cannot meet that need.  I cannot save anyone, not even myself.

I am not enough.  And that is the glorious, freeing, scary truth.

Choosing to Praise

God's "no" is always better than my "yes."  No matter how hard I want something.  No matter what glory I think God might gain if I got my way, His "no" (or "wait" -- sometimes it is hard to tell them apart in the middle of waiting) is ALWAYS better.  We have to look no further than the Old Testament book of Genesis to find our example.  In fact, no further than the Garden of Eden.  And then again at the whole Abraham-Sarah-Hagar-Ishmael-Isaac drama to see why waiting on God or accepting His no is so much better than forcing my way.  The whole world is still reeling from both of those decisions.

While in my situation, I cannot really force a "yes," I still have a choice.  I can choose to grumble and complain or I can choose to praise.

And praise I will.  I will praise Him in the "no", and I will praise Him FOR the "no."  It's really the only chance I have to give God the glory in all this.  He knows best.  Even when I do not understand.

And, contrary to what I would love to believe, God is not primarily interested in my happiness, wealth, or health.  He is interested in remaking me -- taking the sinful lump of clay that is me and turning my into a vessel that looks like Christ.  He is primarily interested in my holiness.  I would love it if this life were to be easy, full of wealth, full of happiness, full of health.  But then there would be no change.  I would be left self-centered, unholy, and ultimately, I would become the least lovely version of myself -- full of sin, and unchecked appetites.  I would be a living example of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

So I will praise God, who in His infinite wisdom, made the things of this world finite.  Who tells me "no" (or "wait") when I beg and cry for a "yes."  I will praise Him because He loves me enough to set limits.  I will seek to bring Him glory, and to enjoy Him, not just in the no, but because of it, too.

Praising in the Storm

Two and a half weeks ago, the Engineer spent four days and three nights in the hospital.  Starting on Monday, and ending on Thursday.  It took a couple of days to figure out what was wrong with him.

It started off with a fear of meningitis.  Then, tuberculosis.  The first was quickly ruled out (praise God!).  The second took a little longer...

Wonderful friends took the girls Monday evening (and then again all day Tuesday).  Monday night, I picked up my precious three girlies and was driving home.  I found myself singing.  Softly, almost without thought.

The Cowgirl asked me what I was singing.  So I sang louder.  I sang hymns.  The hymns that contain so very much rich theology.  The hymns that have helped inform my faith.  Hymns by men and women that have loved the Lord, clung to Him through adversity, the likes of which I may never face.  Hymns that stuck in my ears and in my heart.

I found myself, not just clinging to God, but praising Him.  Praising Him for who He is, for how He has gone before.  Through these timeless words penned centuries ago.  Words and melodies that link me to believers long dead, believers that have walked this path before me.  Not just to the hymn-writers, but to the centuries of hymn-singers, as well.  Fellow worshipers who have gone to these same hymns countless times, through adversity, and pain, and plenty, and mountaintops.

And this is why I mourn the loss of hymns in the church.  That link to the past, that theology learned through the music of the saints long past.  The idea that "if others can do this, so can I" that comes almost unconsciously.

Modern music is missing that -- that link to the saints.  It's not long-lasting.  No one in a hundred years will be singing the "praise music" we sing today.  I fear the push to make us "relevant" has made us merely worldly.  Instead of being truly different, truly timeless, we have settled for "cool" and "hip," both concepts that are bound, by definition, to time.

When nothing is different from what folks can find in the gym, or the country club, or even the casino, why would they choose the church? 

When my children go through hard times, will they sing the songs they hear now, ones long out of fashion by then?  Will they go to songs that are in vogue at that time?  Or will the long for something more -- something deeper, something that speaks of saints before clinging to God and the cross?  Will they long for a link to men and women with stories of perseverance through the unthinkable, of a God bigger than all of this life?  And more importantly, will they find that link?  Will it still be there?

Nice, or Kind?

I very much dislike the word "nice."  It brings forth images of people with no real life in them.  No opinions, no truth, no ideas.  I believe it's the foundation of Political Correctness, of "Your Truth" and "My Truth."

Kindness, however, is a part of the fruit of the Spirit.  Kindness is sometimes not at all "nice".  It sometimes requires hurting someone's feelings when there's been a wrong done.  Kindness steps on toes, extends grace, and comes from a heart of obedience to God.

Niceness is a self-centered plea along the lines of, "Everyone, please like me!"

Kindness does not care about being liked, but simply desires what is truly best for another person.

Kindness often involves hard conversations and awkward silences, allowing the other person space, and the Holy Spirit time to work.

Kindness is what drives me, as mom, to expect obedience from my children.  It is what pushes me to raise the standard high for them, to push them to try and not give up.  Kindness is what impels me to speak the truth lovingly to my children when they are in the wrong.  It is the same thing that protects them when others would harm them.

"Nice" is not what I expect of my children.  "Kind" most definitely is.

Things I Love: the End

I love a good project.  You know why?  Because there is an END!  And, like any good project, this one is ending today.

Did I do all 30 days?  No.  I guess by that measurement, the project was a failure.

But, the purpose of this project was to make me focus on the things for which I am thankful, and to be mindful of showing love to those around me.  By that measurement, the project was a success.  Because I knew I would have to write about it, I was more mindful of things for which I am thankful.  And as I focused on some, I began to see more.

It also challenged me in ways that I did not foresee.  I realized how very blessed I am, and how very little I give in return.  That's a shameful admission, but there it is.

I need to be serving more.  I need to be giving of myself more.  I don't know HOW yet.  I don't know where, or to whom.  But I know there are plenty of people who need, who struggle for the basic needs.

In my day to day life, I am apt to focus on the short-comings, the things that nag at me, or needle me, or just bother me.  (That's a whole lotta "me" there!)  But, in truth, I have been blessed on this earth beyond what I deserve, beyond what I would have though possible just a few short years ago.  With these blessings is an expectation that I will share them with others.  But how?  That's a matter for prayer and consideration.  I am sure that as I seek His will, He will show me.

Things I Love: Facebook

There's been a lot said about Facebook on various blogs.  Posts about jealousy, and how people make things look "better" than they are, and how studies show links between time spent on FB and depression.  I'm not going to try and refute any of that.  I'm not going to defend it, either.

What I am going to say is this -- I love Facebook.  It keeps me up-to-date on what my cute nieces and nephews are doing; it helps me know how to pray for people that I would never see in person (I live 1500 miles away from where I grew up, remember); it helps me celebrate births, engagements, marriages, graduations, and so forth of those same people and their children. 

It allows me to request prayer from people all over the country, people who never see me in person.  It allows me to tell funny stories and share pictures of my children with people who love them most.  It allows me to publicly thank people for being so amazing, or to share stories of "over and above" service we receive. 

Sure, it can be a breeding ground of negatives.  You know what, though.  That just gives me insight into areas where I need to repent and allow God to work in my life.

FB also provides a place of encouragement.  I can see other parents' struggles.  I can gain insight into not being alone.  I can ask for advice, or just prayer as I struggle.  Mostly, it helps me know that I'm not alone in this, that other people are going through the same thing.

I guess, like most things, FB is what you make of it.  For me, with three youngish children, in my daily homeschooling journey, it's easy for me to hole up and "do my own thing."  FB provides a place of connection and encouragement.


OK, the daily "what I did."  Today, I thanked the parents on FB for sharing their children.  The silly, cute, and funny things.  It was just time that someone did.

Things I Love: Appliances and Two More

I'm a couple of days behind, but I have a good excuse reason.  My dryer blew up on Tuesday morning, which is laundry day around here.  With the way I have organized/decluttered the clothing (at least for the girls and me), that has made for an interesting week in our house!

So, first of all, I love modern appliances (when they work).  I mean, think about it -- our ancestors beat their dirty laundry out in a creek on a rock, then hung them out to dry.  They graduated to washboards and washtubs, then very dangerous washing machines.  Now, we have safe, effective machines.  We put in dirty clothes, and get back clean clothes.  They're wet, but most of the time, a dryer is available.  If we don't want the chore of carrying the heavy, wet clothes outside, then bending and hanging them, only to reverse the process when they're dry; we can plop them into a basket, scoot the basket over three feet (or so), and cram those heavy, wet, CLEAN clothes into a dryer, turn in on, then dry them.  The same is true for dishes.  Just plunk them in the magic box, add soap, press a button, and VIOLA, clean dishes!  It's really pretty amazing, if you take the time to think about it.  Vacuum cleaners, cars, refrigerators, freezers, ice makers, and so forth!  Some require more effort than others, but all the same, they free us up from much of the manual labor that our foremothers did.  And to be honest, many women around the world are still doing much of that manual labor.  It's an amazing blessing!  And yet, all too often, I complain about having to fold that laundry, or unload that dishwasher, or clean out the fridge.

So, my next love for the last three days is understanding (and insanely generous) friends.  Two lovely women, when hearing of my misfortune, offered me their dryers.  Wow!  Both have homes-full of children of their own, with their own laundry to tackle, housework to do, and they offered to let me take up their dryers!  I mean, how amazingly generous!

Third, I love parts stores.  I called the local appliance parts store on Tuesday afternoon, gave them the model number of my dryer, told them what part I needed (without a part number), and they shipped it out to me.  It should be here today.  I called the next day, with another broken part, and they had it in stock. The Engineer picked it up yesterday morning.  It's entirely possible that this will be a memory by this evening.

OK, so with all this love, how am I going to turn that around and love those around me?  I am going to try to be more mindful of things around me.  I'm going to try to remember these things are blessings, and that there are those who are (still) doing things "the hard way."  After all, that's really the point of this series anyway...

Things I Love: Small Changes

         I love small changes.  This is something I've only recently begun to grasp.  See, I'm an all-or-nothing kind of person.  I want to do it all NOW!  And for years (too many to mention), that's precisely what I tried to do.  I tried to make big, sweeping, monumental, change.  Change it all right now.  Turn-myself-into-an-entirely-different-person change.  Knuckle down and add instant discipline.
          Only, my brain doesn't work like that.  I love the planning, the goal-setting, the making stuff to go with the plan.  When it comes to executing the plan, I overdose on change, and usually by Wednesday (if I start the New Plan on Monday), I am done.  D.O.N.E.  I hate the new plan, and myself for failing.
          So, this time, I am doing small changes.  Changes that I can live with.
          Picture it like this...  Have you ever watched an artist paint a picture?  I look at it, think it's beautiful as-is, but the artist adds highlights to the water, making it sparkle; or shadows, highlights, and tiny lines to the trees, making them look real; or impossibly fine lines to a bird, giving it amazing feathers.  This is what I'm talking about -- the seemingly small changes that add so very much.

           How am I loving my family through this?  I am making those small changes, one each week or so, and focusing on that going forward.  I've read that it takes between 21 and 30 days to make a new habit.  I don't know  much truth there is in that, but it makes sense.

           I am also being intentional about which habits I choose.  For far too long, I chose poorly.  I focused on housekeeping solely.  I did not focus on the people in the house I'm keeping.  And my efforts were too large.  I wanted to change my whole routine quickly, and only where the house was concerned.  This time, I have made my first habit something for my husband, the second one has been a housekeeping habit, the third one (which I am starting today) will be focused on my children.  Yes, it means that the housework changes aren't happening as fast as they "could," BUT I have learned that I cannot make too many changes at once, and I am not a compartmentalizing person.  My whole life is integrated, and I must make my habits this way.
          We are also heading to church today, to worship, learn, and fellowship with other believers.  This is a very loving thing, also.  And frequently challenging!
            I ended up staying home with a sick kiddo.  Our oldest ("the doctor") came down with a stomach bug last night.  So I kept her home.

Things I Love: Books

            Day 5's thing -- books.  I am so very thankful for books.

        There are so many things I want to know.  Yet I don't have time to attend classes on all my interests.  In fact, there's probably not enough years in my lifetime for me to attend all those classes.

        But do you know what I can do?  Read a book.  At least then, I will have an idea of whether or not I am interested in pursuing this further.  I can learn at the feet of people I'll never meet -- some of whom died decades or even centuries before me.

        Whole worlds of imagination open up before me, helping me see things in a new way, or maybe an old way that I had never heard of before.  Ideas to challenge my brain and my complacency spring out of the pages as I sit comfortably at home, or less comfortably in a doctor's waiting room, or mostly uncomfortably in the van as we drive across country to visit.

 

        So I teach my children to read.  I let them see me read in down times.  I buy them books, and request books as gifts from friends and family.  I take them to the library (though not as often as I ought.)  I encourage them to read, to find their interests.

        I also incorporate what I have read into my marriage.  I read books about men in general, and husbands in specific.  I weed through and read books that encourage me to be a better wife, to respect my husband, and to love him.  Not in order to manipulate him (though there was a time I thought that way, much to my shame), but so that I can obey God, and because my husband deserves respect and love from me.  Speaking of which, it's time for me to pick up a marriage book.  I'm overdue for one!

Things I Love: Surprises

          Two of my girls have birthdays coming up.  This, of course, means gifts.  Which brings me to today's "love."

          I love surprises.  Gifts, extra cash to spend, a haircut at my favorite place, an unexpected date night, kitchen gadgets.  I love the unexpected, no matter how "small" it might seem.  I just love surprises.

          Now, the loving others part.  I love to give gifts and surprise others.  My husbands and kids in particular.  I often bring home a small "surprise" for them when I go grocery shopping.

          My husband isn't really much of a "surprise" person.  He doesn't hate them, but he doesn't love them either.  He prefers to be allowed to choose his own gifts, as he has decided opinions on tools and such.  (His standard saying is, "A bad tool is worse than no tool.")  A few times, I've managed to surprise him and have it go well, but mostly I go along with what he has already chosen.  It's better that way for the both of us.  In this way, I show him respect.  And by respecting him, I am loving him well.

          Two of my children love surprises.  My oldest and youngest are very much like me in this regard.  They love to receive things they didn't ask for, largely because they don't even know it exists.  These two are easy to give to, and a joy to do it for because they are usually insanely joyful.  Seriously.  I wish I could show you my oldest child's reaction to almost any surprise, even if it's just, "let's go out to breakfast, just you and me."  She makes you want to do more, just to see her react.  I have to work hard and restrain myself so I don't spoil her too much.  The youngest is very similar, but not to the same extreme.

          My middle child, not so much.  She generally doesn't like surprises.  Her first answer to any question is generally "no," even if the question is "do you want ice cream?"  She takes time to think it through, and then changes her mind.  She has a very few things (usually one or two) things that she really, really wants for gift giving occasions.  And she prefers to be allowed to pick it out.  In the end, she mostly knows what she's getting (or has a pretty good idea.)  And that makes her happy.

          In the end, loving her means not surprising her too much on the important things (like birthdays and Christmas), and selecting a few things she loves for everyday surprises (like doughnuts, or lollipops, or Hello Kitty anything, or hippo anything, or craft supplies).  Even though it goes against the grain for this surprise-loving mama, I do this mostly.

          As I am writing this, I realize that I also need to work with her on receiving graciously.  In the future, this will be something to work on.  Loving her well means also teaching her how to live in community, not simply giving in to her personal preferences.

          Ultimately, surprises are a personal preference.  And I need to remember that, and respect others' preferences in this area.  I admit, this is hard sometimes, as my emotions get ahead of my thoughts.  But I'm learning, and I'm working on it.

Why The June Posts?

        Why am I spending this time writing about things I love, and how I use that to show love to others (mostly)?  Why take a month?

 

        The answer is simple.  I see in myself an ugliness.  An unthankfulness, a lack of graciousness.  I find myself wrapped up in smallness, taking blessings for granted.

 

        So, I am hoping that by focusing on the blessings I have been given, and how I can -- or do -- turn those things around to those around me (mostly my family), that God can use this to retrain me to an attitude centered on thankfulness and humility.

 

        By focusing on the things for which I am thankful, I hope to stop focusing on what is "wrong" (or at least focus less on those things).

 

         By posting here, I hope to add some accountability.  I hope that this will encourage me to follow through.  (Which is something else I am poor at!)