Christmas

                                                                   
                                                              Merry Christmas 2012!

Mom Smucker 1920-2012

Twenty-six years ago I did not go easily toward the idea of moving into a house next door to my mother-in-law. I had heard my share of the stories--strained relationships, hard feelings, families torn apart because two women, the mother and the wife, simply could not find a way to coexist and to "share" the same man. I really liked Carl's mother back then, but I wanted to like her from a safe distance, where there wasn't so much potential for hurt.

Today I can say that is one of the great blessings in my life to have lived next-door to this remarkable lady. It has not always been easy living so close and it hasn't always been perfect, but my mother-in-law found a way early on to endear me so closely  to her that I couldn't help but love her! She treated me exactly as if I was one of her daughters --and you know how much she loved them--and she never seemed to be threatened by the fact that I took her youngest son away from her, just 6 months after her own husband had passed away. Having a grown son of my own now, I see more clearly that it must have been a choice, a decision to accept me, not necessarily something that came naturally at that stage of her life.

She taught me so much in the dailyness of living next door to each other: when to plant the peas in the springtime, how much sugar to add to the peaches when canning, what to do for my baby's high fever. She hemmed pants and made pillows, and brought her delicious baked goods over to us. She had so many simple solutions that came out of a lifetime of her own experience. I benefitted from being in close proximity and learning as we went along. It's probably what I have missed most about her in these last years, as she became more forgetful and less confident in her own ability to run a household. Toward the end, in an interesting role reversal, she would ask ME how to do the very things she had taught me years ago!

She loved our children, oh how she loved our children! She spent time with them, played with them, always had favorite snacks on hand and showered them with genuine adoration, like she could hardly believe these little people were this special! The memories they have of next-door grandma are very fresh in their minds today, even though all four of our children are now grown.

I do not have regrets. Mom Smucker and I never had a fight or spoke harsh words to each other. If she ever had a problem with me, maybe she told my husband, I don't know, but she never tried to change me or make me into anyone other than the person I am. I got the feeling she really did like me!

I so look forward to seeing mom again in heaven, with a body that is free from the ravages of old age and that functions as energetically as her spirit. Who knows, maybe in heaven I'll even get to live next-door to her once again!

 

Rest well, mom. I'll see you soon.

It's a Boy!

Look what JUST ARRIVED! Our grandson, Dylan Cade Stoltzfus, was born on January 26, 2012, weighing in at 7 lb. 11oz.







Big sister Morgan is so nurturing and sweet to her baby brother. She calls him "buddy". The biggest challenge for Morgan has been the fact that Dylan and she both have the same kind of nippy. How do you explain that she gets hers only at bedtime and in the carseat, while baby brother gets his all the time?! She's learning...

I love being Nana! It is a privilege to be there when my daughter's little ones arrrive on the scene, such a pleasure to spend time close to them.

The smell of a newborn has to be the sweetest scent, bar none! Pure, clean, smooth, flawless skin...perfection. Every detail skillfully fashioned by the Creator, who tells us that even before we were born, He knew everything about us! The environment and the fact that this is EARTH will smudge and then erase that newborn perfection, but it is comforting to know that Dylan's life matters. God knows him and has a purpose for this tiny one's life.

My best birthday gifts

For my birthday, I received a coupon from my husband, entitling me to "an overnight stay at ______________, to be joined by a mystery couple on January 1 at 3:00 pm."

Since we had already celebrated my 50th birthday several times in different small settings, I couldn't imagine who would be going away with us for a weekend.

The mystery "couple" turned out to be better than I could have expected--my entire family surprised me by showing up at the cabin Carl had rented for the weekend!Carson and Christy hid under blankets while Tessa videotaped the surprise. =)Doug, Mandi and Morgan joined us a bit later in the day.



I was honored, humbled, really--that my children, who are all now young adults, would choose to clear their schedule to make time to be together for my birthday. I recognize that they all have lives to live, busy schedules and places to go. It was the best birthday present.

There were no deep conversations or stimulating discussions that weekend, just the being there was the gift. Mandi and Doug cooked a traditional pork and sauerkraut meal for New Year's Day. We played board games and Family Feud on our Iphones, read and played with 2-year-old Morgan. We all fell asleep in the living room the first night.









"Do not ask that your kids live up to your expectations.
Let your kids be who they are,
and your expectations will be in breathless pursuit."
~Robert Brault

Merry Christmas from the Smuckers!

Thoughts on Turning 50

December 9, 2011.

I am 50 years old today.

Rarely at a loss for words, I have not been able to pin down how I actually feel about this momentous occasion. And it is momentous I suppose, in the same manner that anything in existence for half a century deserves to be recognized. 50 years is a very long time!

Therein lies the irony. I don't feel old. And it doesn't seem like I've been here a long time at all. I DO like celebrations, but that concept has changed for me in the past years. I realized when my husband asked me if I want a 50th birthday party, that I much prefer multiple, small celebrations that allow me to spend one-on-one time with the people who are closest to me. My husband. My children and grandbaby. Several couples who have weathered the seasons of life with Carl and me. My siblings and my parents. My sweet sisters. So I look forward to these outings in the near future.

I waffle between being nonchalant about my birthday ("what's the big deal? it's just a number!") to the other side of the spectrum where I reflect on what my life has meant thus far, and how my past decisions, joys and challenges have led me to where I am today.

So, since I am in one of those pensive moments,alone here in my quiet house for the afternoon...Here are some of my thoughts on turning 50.

* I am glad to be 50 because the alternative stinks. Oh, I do not doubt Heaven. My faith tells me it will be glorious. But I also believe that God put within each human being the desire to LIVE, to stay here on this earth as long as possible! (My 91 year old mother-in-law is a classic example, she often talks about how all the people around her at the retirement home are hunched over and gray-haired. And old. She simply does not see herself in the same category.)

I want to have more time with the man I chose to marry more than 28 years ago. I have never regretted that decision, by the way. Never once. I really believe our next 28 years hold more adventure than we can imagine! I want to continue cheering proudly from the sidelines as my beautiful daughters blossom and turn into young women, one of them on the cusp of becoming a mother for a second time. I want to watch my son make his way in the "real world" after his college graduation next Spring,developing his talents and God-given potential to make a difference in the world. And I can't wait to meet the other grandchildren who will follow Morgan, all little people not yet existing, but the promise is there!

*At 50 I am more at peace with who I am as a person, not so insecure, and I have less need to strive and push and shove my way through. I do not want to feel busy all the time-- busy is no longer synonomous with value and meaning in my life. I am happier to just BE.

*I feel as though, at age 50, I have attained bits of wisdom, not because I'm knowledgeable or smart: but simply by virtue of being here awhile. I am more keenly aware than ever before, how blessed I am. And as Scripure says, "to whom much is given, much is required." I pray that I will be able to use wisely what I have been given, understanding that my competence and sufficiency comes from the God who created me, not something I have worked for within myself.

*I recognize that there will inevitably be major shifts ahead for me. I suppose any woman in her 50's knows instinctively that some things will change, if they haven't already! But I am not talking in just a physical sense. The kids will eventually all be gone. More grandchildren arriving. More time alone for just Carl and me. Changes at work and new ventures in business.

And other surprises I don't know about yet.

But God does.

And I am OK with that.

last first-day-of-school

It's my youngest child's LAST first day of school! Christy is a senior in high school! As a mom, I spent so much of my life focusing on my children's "firsts": first steps, first words, first time riding the bicycle without training wheels, first trip to the orthodontist...

And my husband and I have documented those many firsts over the last 26 years with our four children. Maybe we were a bit over-the-top, I don't know. But I don't regret the 40 plus photo albums stacked on my basement shelves or the hours and hours of video footage (painstakingly switched over to disks in the past few years. Hey, what good is a videotape if you no longer have the machine with which to view it?!)

Just so I could say I finished well (!!), on the day school started, I drove behind my daughter's car all the way to school, walked up and down her hallway, smiled at her teachers and the milling students, got back in my car and came home. This has been a tradition of ours, to go with each one of our kids for every first-day-of-school. (They loved it in the early years, nearly died of embarrassment in the middle years, tolerated it in the latter years and then appreciated it in the end!)

I did it one more time because the "firsts" are winding down for us. In our family, there will never be another first day of school.

When I was knee-deep in diapers, snotty noses, sibling rivalry, 4-kids-in-school schedules, sometimes well-meaning old ladies would come up to me (usually in the grocery store or at church)and say, "Enjoy this time, because it will be gone before you know it!" Yeah, right...

And now, I guess I'm one of those old ladies.

How did THAT happen?

But I love this stage of life. My children are grown up (almost). I only feel little tinges of bittersweet, not regret or loss in this season. Right now I see my mommy years more through the lens of a rear-view mirror. In fact, most of the time I watch younger mothers who are juggling multiple children and I just can't, for the life of me, imagine how they actually DO it all!!

My heart swells with pride when I watch my eldest daughter nurture her little one, when I see my strapping son working hard selling hotdogs at the Phillies stadium to make money for college, when I sit in a Sunday morning service as my daughter leads us in worship, when I observe my 17-year-old teenager choosing to make good decisions, even when those decisions are not easy ones.

So when I look back, recognizing that life is also made up of "lasts", it's really mostly nostalgia and sweet remembering. (And you all know how it is: every mom, as she looks back and reminisces over the years, remembers less and less of the bad and more and more of the good. By the time my youngest is 25, I'll probably think they were all angels and never gave me a single moment's pause!)

I pulled up all of Christy's first-day-of-school pictures and posted them below. I love this girl!





I homeschooled Christy for Kindergarten. It was so exciting to teach my daughter to read and write! 1999





First Bus Ride! First day of first grade, 2000





Grade 2, 2001




Grade 3, 2002




Grade 4, 2003




Grade 5, 2004




Grade 6, 2005




Grade 7, 2006




Grade 8, 2007




Grade 9, 2008




Grade 10, 2009





Grade 11, 2010




Grade 12, 2011

Father's Day 2011

Carl was out of town last Sunday so we decided to celebrate Father's Day a week late after he returned. Last night the kids came over (coming and going throughout the evening between their various activities.) Later on, everyone ended up back here at home and we sat around our firepit on the back deck. We talked late into the night. It was quite amazing--humbling, really-- to look at my children's faces in the firelight, grown-up faces now, in the prime of life, as they verbally grappled with the philosophical stuff of life. We bounced from subject to subject, mostly just asking questions of each other, finding that there are relatively few simple answers that can be put in a box with a neat little ribbon tied around it.

*The infinite vastness of this universe we are a part of and how it was all created.

*Theological questions about God and His character. If we choose to follow this God by faith, is there ever a line we can cross where He turns us away, just gives up on us? If so, where is that line?

*Why bad things happen where God seems to be distant and purposely uninvolved, and why in some other cases there are blatant in-your-face miracles where His presence is completely real and so KNOWN.

*If a tiny baby comes into the world and dies at birth, most everyone, even those who propose no faith at all, believe that child is in Heaven, protected and safe. But what if an 20 year old somewhere in the heart of Africa dies before He has heard the message of Jesus, what do we believe happens to that person in eternity?


Just before Doug and Mandi left and we all turned in for the night, Tessa read the following quote. It summarizes my faith in a God who is vastly (and comfortingly) so much bigger than I am. He is God and I am not. And I am OK with that.

"We try to be reasonable about what we believe. What I believe is not reasonable at all. In fact, it’s hilariously impossible. Possible things aren’t worth much. These crazy impossible things keep us going.” Madeleine L’Engle

Whatever hurts us makes us stronger

My nephew Shawn Smucker has a way with words. He is an author and keeps an interesting daily blog.His reflections on life are unique, thought-provoking, often inspiring. I like how he thinks "outside the box" and spends more time asking questions than answering them.

Below is an excerpt that he wrote about his Grandma Smucker, who is also my 91 year-old mother-in-law. 8:15 Friday morning Mom Smucker called my husband's cell phone and her slurred speech on the other side of the line put us into immediate emergency mode.

Shawn writes:

"I’m sitting in the hospital room with grandma right now. Her wiry, gray hair reaches to her shoulders – having grown up Amish, she usually wears a covering, and I’ve never seen her with her hair down before. Someone came in to talk to us about her swallowing, now that one side of her throat might not cooperate. Some of her kids, my aunts and uncles, are in and out. She’s excited because she finally gets to eat.

She tries to lift food with her right hand, but the stroke has limited her mobility on that side, so her hand trembles and stops about three inches short of her mouth. She leans forward and uses her lower jaw to lift the food the rest of the way into her mouth. We want to help her eat. We tell her to use her left hand.

My cousin Tessa gets ready to leave the room. She’s recently had her own surgery and can barely walk. She leans in and hugs grandma. Grandma kisses her cheek a thousand times, holds on to her face with her still-strong left hand (as if letting go would be the end of her) and says over and over again in her slurred voice:

“Whatever hurts us makes us stronger. Whatever hurts us makes us stronger.”

I was in the hospital that day with Shawn. I knew Grandma was saying something over and over to Tessa: I sort of assumed she was praying. But I didn't hear the words.

How simple. How wise. "Whatever hurts us makes us stronger."

The athlete can never become a strong runner without the pain of working those muscles needed to perform. The mind will never develop well if it is not stimulated and "worked" to keep us alert and quick-thinking. And from an emotional perspective, nothing develops deep personal compassion and empathy for others like going through difficult times ourselves.

It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes by Oswald Chambers:
"When you are in the dark, listen, and you will hear a very precious message for someone else when you are in the light."

I guess after 91 years, Grandma Smucker has a lot to teach us.

My Sisters

That was then....




This is now!

Ok, so this is going W-A-Y back in time, to what feels like another lifetime ago! I grew up in a large family-- in my early years, it was a family comprised of my parents, four brothers and me. Since we were raised on a farm, "the boys" worked outside with dad and I helped my mother in the house.

How I longed for a little sister.

It was so completely my heart's desire and I often prayed in my childlike way that God would give me one. When I was 8 years old, I learned that my mother was expecting another baby...and I simply believed. It never occured to me that asking God to make this baby a girl was a rather mute point, since a child already is what it is at conception. I waited, and prayed...and waited.

And late one night after I had been sleeping, I woke to find my dad at the door of my bedroom. I remember he was leaning up against the door jam trying to look nonchalant. In the light of the hall lamp, his eyes were smiling. So pleased.

I had a baby sister!

And then God, with his uncanny ability to give "beyond what we can ask or think", sent me two more little sisters, one when I was 11 years old, and an unexpected tag-along when I was 17. Each time--pure joy!

In the early years, our relationship was that of a Big-Sister, Little-Sister, and probably more like a mother-child with my youngest sister. I used to be so proud when people thought I was her mom!

The passage of time has served to gently erase the age differences and now these three beautiful women are my best friends in all the world. They are just THERE in every sense of the word. Since my children are nearly raised and my sisters all have little ones, we still live in very different "seasons" but it feels in a wierd way like we are all the same age now. We don't see each other every day yet I always have the sense that in the midst of my busy life, someone's got my back.

They know how my heart is doing.

We are alike in some ways, very different in others. People say our mannerisms are similar. We certainly don't fit a cookie-cutter stereotype in the way we think, act, process life and our interests and tastes are as varied as our personalities. But we genuinely like each other and love to spend time together (thanks in large part to the example of our mom, who is wholly accepting and sees only the good in others.)

I love my sister Janet's serving spirit, her intuitive ability to make decisions and the practical way she makes things happen. Snap, snap! She is self-sufficient with a can-do attitude. She is usually the driver when we sisters go away together once a year for a weekend. Because she knows the way. And because she can get us there the fastest. Sensitive to the core, she has emotional "antenna" that are on constant alert,keenly attuned to issues of the heart. She has a wild and crazy side too: sometimes her off-the-wall humor completely escapes me (I'm so dang serious and just don't get jokes!)But I laugh at her laughing at herself!

My sister Yvonne is poised, unruffled, and her smile is introspective and composed. She is a deep reflective thinker and her mind is always mulling the meaningful things of life. Von is one of the most creative homemakers I know, with an ability to create something out of almost nothing. Her home is decorated in neutral hues--uncluttered and calming. There is a serenity about her, a wisdom beyond her years. She is a good listener, a faithful friend. I can not ever remember her raising her voice.

And Janelle! She bounced into the world over 30 years ago (look at her expression on both of the pictures above and you get a sense for who she is!) and she is still bouncing! Like the unstoppable Tigger of Winnie-the-Pooh fame, she has an energy that simply emanates from her. Life is FUN when Janelle is around and few people can find more reasons to throw a party than she! Warm and lively, she embraces life with passion, savors the moments, lives each day fully and completely. Her house has stuff in every corner: interesting tidbits, photos, magazine clipouts, vintage articles, garage-sale finds. Each time I visit, I walk around just to see what's new in her world!

Last Sunday my extended family spent some time together celebrating Mother's Day (and a belated Easter egg hunt for the kids). My daughter Tessa snapped the picture shown above. It's one of my all-time favorites, because it reminds me of the sweet gift God has given to me in the form of these precious ladies.

a child and a honeymoon

I attended another funeral last week. It feels like there has been a lot of those lately.

I came away from this one with a new perspective on Heaven....I've been mulling it around in my brain ever since.

The minister told a story about a father who was doing his best to inform his 5-year old son about what it would be like to go on a honeymoon someday in the child's distant future. He told the little boy (as best he could explain) that it would be one of the most fun days of his whole life--even better than Christmas presents-- and that he would get to spend time with the person he loved most in all the world. The little boy was puzzled and asked, "So, do I get to bring my new bike on my honeymoon?" His dad told him that it wouldn't be necessary to take his bicycle along. "Well then, can Jason go with me on my honeymoon?" Again, his father smiled and shook his head, assuring the boy that, when the time came for his honeymoon, he really wouldn't WANT to take his best friend along.

The boy remained unconvinced. Because there was no way his 5-year-old mind could comprehend a honeymoon. He simply had to trust that his daddy knew what he was talking about.

So often we are like that. We hear about how wonderful Heaven will be, that it is beyond compare and all of the incredible joys we will experience there. It sounds nice but... I prefer to hold on to my "bicycle and Jason." Do I really want to walk on streets of gold and sing in a choir for a million years? Won't I long for the familiarity of earth? What about my family and my loved ones? How will I know they will be okay when I'm gone? If I am completely honest, I'm not sure I really want to go. At least not now.

And so I must trust my Father. He knows whereof He speaks.

Revelation 21:4
"And God will wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things have passed away."

Easter at our house

There are some things I especially like about Easter at our house.
Every year we do the same thing.
After church services are done and we've changed into comfy clothes, the kids all line up for their Easter picture. (long ago, we did the dress-up, matchy thing for pictures: oh, I worked so hard to coordinate those outfits!)



Then they race out to the back yard to see which one can collect the most candy-filled eggs. (The bodies may be grown-up, but inside they are still kids!






Everyone then sits down on the ground and compares their "spoils." When they were little, they would check amongst themselves to see if each one got the same amount of each kind!









This year Miss Morgan joined in the fun. (a single m&m in each egg--she was a happy little girl!)


I love that our children value traditions, even if those traditions are a bit goofy. Somehow,looking forward to the sweet predictability of treasured customs adds a sense of stability in a world that is often random and chaotic. For me,it's a way of preserving my sanity, keeping me grounded and connecting me with a past that is very precious to me. Maybe it does the same for them...




Both my extended family and Carl's is getting so large that it is increasingly difficult to "get us all together" for each holiday, so we have started inviting my parents and his mom to join our family for our Easter meal each year. I rather like the one-on-one interaction that happens in these quieter settings, since when we are all together, (40 plus for the Beilers and...I've lost count with the Smuckers!!) there is an abundance of noise, activity and hoopla going on!



Okay, humor me...here's a few pictures from Easters gone by.









HAPPY EASTER, EVERYONE!

tantrums in the grocery store

Moms often ask when their child disobeys, "How do I know what is the right punishment?" Maybe a better question would be, "What is the most appropriate response?" The key to effective discipline is not punishment, it is management.

Punishment is usually a reaction, an off-the-cuff response to something that happens which brings frustration or anger. Management, on the other hand, is something that is proactive and happens when there is some planning done ahead of time.

Proactive discipline first of all means that a mother with little ones expects those little ones to act like little ones! A two year old who believes he is the center of the universe (and he has every reason to believe this, because out of necessity he has been treated as such) is NOT going to be a happy camper when someone tells him what to do or denies him what he wants. When you look at it this way, it actually makes sense why a child of this age acts the way they do. I'd probably throw a tantrum too if everything in my world was taken from me by someone I loved and trusted!

So if you understand why a two-year old acts the way he does, there is less reason to stress over it or become intimidated or angry. It just is what it is. Your job is to steer your child toward cooperation and that will take time and patience. What you actually do is far less important than knowing what you are going to do before the problem happens.

It's called Discipline: setting limits, helping your child develop an ability to tolerate frustration and convincing him that you are in control of his world (which makes him feel safe and protected.)

I remember when my children were young, each one went through a stage where they were just plain bad at the grocery store. They whined, begged for toys and cried when the answer was no, wouldn't stay in the cart, all that stuff. It was so stressful, so embarrassing, so tiring! I think I lost my cool more in that setting than in any other, usually laying into the kids after we got back into the van.

Bu there was once or twice --it happened with all four of them--when I vividly remember a triumphant success in this arena. This triumphant success occurred when I thought ahead of time what I would do if (when!) the inevitable happened. I actually planned it on a day when I had a little extra time. I told my child calmly and without emotion,before we went into the store, "If you throw a tantrum or scream in the grocery store today, I will take you out to the car and I will spank you." (**That was then, this is now.In 2011 unfortunately, you'd probably get called in by Children's Services. Remember its not WHAT you do to discipline, its that you do something.)

Back to the grocery store...

Each child took me up on it. And I was not surprised or taken off guard. I didn't feel upended, so I was able to confidently follow through with my plan. Without losing it or even feeling all that upset about the situation. When the tantrum began, I picked up my child, and went out to the car, grocery cart left still in the aisle. I spanked him with the little wooden spoon I had brought along for the occasion (I really was prepared!), hugged him till he calmed down, and then we returned to finish our shopping.

No more tantrums that day. I'm not sure if I had to do this more than once with each child, but I don't think so. It does sound almost too good to be true, but it worked.

**An alternative, since it IS now, not then--is to tell the child as you are taking him to the car: "I told you that I won't let you scream in stores. We're going to the car where you can scream all you want."

Testing

Interestingly, the style of parenting that I have been discussing does not come naturally to me. As a child, I had a very compliant, eager-to-please temperament and wanted peace at all costs. Still do. In personality tests, I rank over-the-top on characteristics that relate to empathy and mercy. (Deep down inside, I'm a push-over, really.)

I married a man with a strong, driven personality and have always felt a lot of security in that. Carl is visionary,take-charge and decisive. Black-and-white.He makes decisions and rarely looks back.

We have four children. As averages would have it, at least two of them have stronger personalities than I do. I recognized this in my first-born when she was very young. I struggled with insecurity knowing that she could often outsmart and outlast me in many of the typical "kid battles." (I used to tell my husband I was actually intimidated by this child! How is that possible?!)

I instinctively knew that even though it was true that these little ones were stronger than me and that I was scared, they absolutely could not know it.

Sometimes we did okay, sometimes not. It seemed to go in cycles, as much of life does. I could usually sense when I was losing the battle, when they were able to take advantage of my weaknesses. It manifested itself in some predictable ways. Lots of whining, fighting, vying for attention, pushing limits.

See, when a child senses that the parent is weak and unsure of themselves, the little one becomes very insecure. Without the three understandings we talked about yesterday, the mama is actually looking to the child for an indication of where to stand instead of the other way around. A child who does not know where his mother stands must test, test, test. It is an attempt on the part of the child to pin his parent down. To find out where the boundaries are. Testing raises the level of stress and tension in the parent-child relationship. What a sad position in which to place a young child!

When I would enter one of these difficult seasons, I found comfort and strength on my knees (not literally, but in a constant communication with the God I knew had created these children with their unique personalities and individual bents.) He knew my temperament and tendencies. Yet He had given these children to me so I had to believe He would equip me with what I needed to raise them.

And secondly, I would feed myself regular doses of encouragement --a shot in the arm, really--by reading books and listening to radio programs and tapes. I found that I would come away from those with an "I can do this!" mentality.

That is my heart now, to be able in some way to encourage young moms who are in the trenches of daily life. You are doing the job 24/7, and you need to know you can do this and you can do it well!

Because I say so

This post is especially for the mama's whose children range in age from 18 to 36 months. Some of this comes from my own experience, some of it comes from John Rosemond's books.

There are three basic understandings that your child has to learn during this critcal time.

Remember that for the first 18 months of life, your child was "It". Self-centered. All-in-all. The world revolved around him. And this was all very necessary because a baby has to learn in the early months of life to TRUST that his parents will always be there for him, no matter what.

Now the job of the parent is to establish authority---loving authority, yes---but authority non-the-less. This authority completely encircles the child, providing direction and protection. Taking the child out of the center of attention must be done slowly but surely. Lovingly but firmly. The parents must convince the child that he does not rule the world, they do.

So, back to Understanding #1:
The parent has to communicate to the child that from here on out, "I am the center of your life, but you are no longer the center of mine." A child will not pay attention to a parent who is acting as though his main duty is to pay attention to the child. That's why a little one will run away from his parents in a store or across the road: in his mind, he simply trusts that the parent will pay attention to whatever he is doing and stop him if he needs stopping. (Aren't we like that even as adults? If I am serving on a committee planning an event, and I know someone else will do the job if I don't, the motivation is far less than if the responsibility is all mine. When I know the job will succeed or fail based on what I do, I am rather motivated to do it well!)

Understanding #2:
The parent has to communicate to the child, "You will do what I tell you to do."
An authoritative parent understands that children have minds of their own, that they have opinions and that they may express their opinion respectfully. But while they are free to disagree, they are not free to disobey. When they do, there needs to be some penalty or some kind of negative impact on their life.

And Understanding #3 builds on #2:
The parent needs to help the child understand that "you will do what I say because I say so." Not because I have persuaded you that I am right, not because I bribe you or threaten you or lose my temper. Not even because I am always right (no one is always right.) But because I say so.

This attitude is necessary because the parent knows full well that it is not within a child's capacity to reason. It will not work. He CAN NOT understand an adult's point of view because he is not an adult. So explain your reasons if you must, but not in an attempt to make him understand. You give your reasons knowing your child will not understand or agree. Then you are not disappointed or upset when he does not agree. You stay calm, and in that calm, you communicate to your child that you know where you stand and you know where you want him to stand. When a child knows that you know where you stand, he has far less need to test you.

Don't forget that discipline is a heart issue, not a formula or set of do's and dont's. When your child misbehaves, you might give him a time out or sit him on a chair, or you might smack his little tush or you may give him a stern look---the method is not what is important. What matters is that the parent is the center of attention and they act decisively from that state of centeredness.

"Great Parents, Lousy Lovers"

Just in case anyone is still out there checking this blog, I wanted to let you know about an interesting discussion on the Focus on the Family radio program today.

Gary Smalley and Ted Cunningham, authors of the book Great Parents, Lousy Lovers, offer advice on re-building intimacy to couples who've let their kids become a higher priority than their marriage. (Part 1 of 2)

I listened to it on WDAC at 9:00 this morning and it will repeat tonight at 8:30. You can also listen online at www.family.org.

my daughter. my granddaughter

There are times I stop for just a second and my mind acts as a video recorder...capturing the reality that is in front of me and then rewinding 24 years. It all happens in a split second, most times I'm not even aware that I'm doing it. I see a little girl's face, her tear-drop eyes, rosebud lips, and bemused expression. She is looking up at me. Her head tilts just slightly, as if she means to ask a question. Even though she can not yet speak.

Is this de ja vu? I know that when that little girl was my daughter looking up at me, I felt the weight of my new responsibility --and I took the job very seriously. Could I actually raise a child from birth to adulthood and do it successfully? What exactly did "successfully" mean? I read books, listened daily to "Focus on the Family" on the radio, asked my own mother for advice, watched how other mothers did this thing called parenting, asked Jesus for wisdom.

Now, all these years later, I am Nana. I am here when my granddaughter is here, and go on with my life when she is not. The little one looking up at me does not depend entirely on me for sustanance. I am able to bask in the joy of moments with her, absolutely awed at how her little mind is expanding and maturing. How quickly she learns. How her perfectly formed body is growing.

I am amazed that her mother has the energy to keep up with this child. She is doing the job so well and I am proud of who she has become. My daughter, the mommy.

Looking back, I can see now that while the days seem to go by so slowly, the years fly by. It really is true. Just a micro-second of rewinding a video in my mind...

Someone once said that it is as grandmothers that mothers come into the fullness of their grace. It feels that way. And I am grateful for the privilege.

Do it yourself!

Ok, so I was thinking...Are there other older moms out there like me who read this blog and could give the younger moms some ideas of things that worked when your children were small? What are some practical and realistic ways to teach a child to become more independent and learn to do things on his own?

Below are a few that I thought of from my own experience...

1. If your child constantly begs you for juice or water, put a sippy-cup on a low table or for a slightly older child, put a small easy-pour container of water within his reach and show him how to pour his own.

2. Set aside specific times, say 30 minutes every morning and every afternoon for your child. Announce that it's "mommy time" or "game time" and make it fun! (Because my type-A personality tended to focus on things around the house that needed to be done, this allowed me to relax and enjoy the designated time, rather than dreading how I was going to end it without a melt-down.) Set your stove timer to ring when the time is up. Tell him at the beginning that when the bell rings, it means you have to stop and go back to your work, or your reading, or whatever. Then do just that.

3. With multiple children, do not even expect that they will work well together on the same chore. Telling three children to clean up their toys turns quickly into a battle of "he/she did it!" or "he/she isn't doing his/her part!" Give specific chores: one can pick up the lego's, one can sweep the floor, etc.

4. Be quick to tell your child the truth: "You know what? I don't have time to do that for you right now. If I have time later and you still need my help, I'll see what I can do. Or you can try it yourself now."

5. As the comic strip below shows, you can give your younger children fun "jobs" that they can do while you are working on another project. The goal is not necessarily to have them finish the chore, but to keep them occupied while you are doing yours!



I'd love to hear some of your ideas!

A Tale of Two Families

I think my biggest fear regarding these past few posts is that a mom somewhere will read the words and not be able to hear my heart...

Being a mother is so much more than doing the right things or raising children using a particular formula. It is really about relationship. Relationship first with my Creator, the only One Who totally knows me in every way. Relationship (if we are married) with my husband in a marriage that stands center-stage, and finally relationship with the little ones who have been personally entrusted to my/our care.

What I am about to relay to you is said with utmost respect and honor for my parents, who have raised eight children safely from birth to adulthood. We owe much of who we are to a mom and dad who genuinely love us. I believe it is largely because of mom's prayers and her willingness to press through for us, that we are all living for the Lord and have found a place of healing. We are closer as a family because of what we have experienced together.

I mentioned before that I grew up in a large family: I am the second of eight. I was seventeen when my youngest sister was born. So, while the first four children came along at lightning speed, there were some breaks between the younger siblings.

Because of circumstances in my parent's lives, my memories of childhood are very different from those of my younger brothers and sisters. In some respects we are almost like two separate families.

We were poor in those early years, but us older kids never knew it. Dad mostly worked the farm, Mom was home with us. I was secure in the fact that I was loved and taken care of, even though the sheer number of little ones and the busy Amish lifestyle of gardening, farming, sewing, canning, etc made it next-to-impossible for my mom to "dote" on us. She tells me that after baby number four arrived (I was only two years old at the time) I walked over to my mother, patted her flat belly and said triumphantly in Pennsylvania Dutch, "NOW you have room to hold me again!"

I have warm memories of the smell of fresh, homemade bread from the kitchen, the crackling of wood in the old-fashioned 'warm morning' stove in the corner of the living room, mom's reassuring presence in our house and knowing that dad was out milking the cows and working the land.

In the early 1980's a series of circumstances forced my family to move off the farm. We were thrust into a world that none of us--least of all, my dad-- knew how to navigate. I can not imagine the stark fear he must have felt in the moments when he realized that he was still responsible for his wife and 8 children, and no longer had a predictable way of earning an income. Farming was all he knew. He became overwhelmed, understandably, and simply did not have the emotional capacity to be the person he had been before. Mom went to work, eventually starting her own cleaning business.

So the younger children in my family have a distinctly different view of childhood.

In a previous entry, I described my mom's mothering style as rather loose and laid-back. She let us "hoe our own row", so to speak, in many areas of life. And because she was able to be actively and emotionally involved in the older children's lives, we tended to respond with confidence and self-assuredness; it didn't occur to us that we couldn't do something on our own, even though we may have been young.

Contrast that scenario with the younger children who were up against some of the scariest things a child can face: the loss of security, moving to another home that was sub-standard at best, having to switch schools from a small private one to a big public one, make new friends, and watching their parents struggle through the muddied waters of a marriage under incredible stress.

And they had to look out for themselves in this climate.

The parenting style remained the same or certainly similar with all eight children. But the relationship was no longer strong and secure. A parent in deep pain often has a hard time recognizing the pain in her children. Or, if she does see the pain, she is simply rendered helpless to know how to fix it. In fact, she may even subconsciously look to her children to fix her own pain.

So my point in all this rambling is the reminder that your relationship with your children, and not just a particular style of parenting, must be paramount. I firmly believe in the concepts I have been writing about in these past few blog entries, I really do. But you can't parent this way when you are emotionally disconnected.

And if you find yourself in a place of pain--which we all will experience to some degree at one time or another--my encouragement is to find a trusted mentor or a godly counselor to help you walk through the process of loss. I know this doesn't automatically take care of life's complicated issues, but it is a start.

Don't go it alone.

Dads: what about them?

Mothering can feel like an overwhelming job. And in some ways, it is.

But one of the things I've noticed that adds to a mother's stress, is this idea that the job of child-rearing is totally and completely her responsibility. If she lets go of even a tiny little part of it, her world will come tumbling down. And then her children will turn out wrong. And it will all be her fault.

What a scary way to live.

And the result of this kind of thinking is that fathers often feel insignificant and unnecessary. Maybe even excluded.

Of course, we all know that mothers and fathers parent differently. Moms, of necessity, usually spend more time with their infants than fathers do. Part of that is the fact that they have the built-in "bottle" and in the early months, babies mostly eat and sleep!

But in the same way that women are better suited to certain aspects of parenting than fathers, it works both ways. In my experience, Carl was much better with our pre-teen and teenage children, particularly our daughters. An emotional young girl being parented by an equally-emotional mother just didn't always work well for us. Oh my, how the sparks could fly!

If I could go back in time and do anything different when our first child was born, I would make a conscious effort to bring Carl into the process much more than I did. Blame it on my traditional Amish upbringing, or the fact that my dad was not involved much in the early years of his children's lives (or, to be more honest, my need for control)...whatever the reason, I made it clear --without a word, I might add-- that this baby was my responsibility and if I needed Carl's help, I would let him know.

It is easy for wives to see their husbands as simply a "parenting aide." Just like a teacher's aide at your children's school, his job is to step in when the mom needs him or when she decides she needs a break. She determines the extent of his involvement.

Many men are frustrated because their wives want them to be involved in the parenting, but when they do get involved, they do the job differently than their wives and are immediately informed it's wrong. The wife sighs and says, "he just can't be trusted to do this thing right," so she treats him as the extra child who has to be supervised in addition to all the other little ones.

I remember one time when Mandi was about a year old. My schedule that night took me away over suppertime and into the evening. I came home after Mandi was in bed and asked Carl all about the details of the evening. He told me the things they had done together: he had taken her outside with him while he was working in the yard. She went to bed well for him and he was pleased with how the evening had turned out. Then I asked Carl how much of her supper Mandi had eaten. He turned to me, a blank look on his face.

He had completely forgotten to feed his child.

I don't remember what my response was at the moment, but I knew that if I made a big deal out of this, and made him feel like a bad dad because of a simple oversight, he would be less inclined to watch her on his own again.

The bottom line is, Carl loved his daughter. And Mandi loved spending time with him. If he had been in charge of taking care of her for two or three days, he would have remembered to feed her. Was that one meal going to make a difference in the long run? Was it such a terrible infraction that he needed to be made to feel guilty or inadequate? I think not.

Mandi survived, by the way. And ate a nice big breakfast the next morning.