Post Category → motherhood

“singing to one another…”

I’ve been reminded lately about the importance of the content of our worship music. I remember when I was very young, we sang a song at church that I was especially fond of — it had a really nice melody and appealing chord progression, and my sisters and I liked singing it around the house with all the schmultz we could muster. Anyway, it got pulled from the church repertoire, and when I asked my dad about it, he said that while it was a pretty song, the songwriter took too much poetic license and ended up on the wrong side of the truth.

That totally stuck with me, and it made me incredibly aware of every song we sang at church. It meant that ten years later, when I was in charge of song selection, I quickly overlooked the, umm, dumb songs, and thought carefully about theological implications. It also made me realize how much teaching happens in those 20 minutes of congregational singing. I haven’t memorized very many sermons, but I have hundreds of songs tucked away, shaping the way I think about and experience God.

I’ve thought about all of this again recently. This past summer, my dad sang “Happy Day” during family devotions at Aunt Judy’s house, and for whatever reason, Jameson latched onto that song as his absolute favorite. We have been singing it multiple times a week ever since — I play the piano and sing, and he drums. He doesn’t sing, and I didn’t know how much he was actually catching. Then, at Christmas time, he suddenly started interrupting me as I sang —

“Mom, why ‘happy day’?”
“Mom, what’s ‘wash my sins away’?”
“Mom, what’s ‘rescued me’? ‘Saved me’?”

One day before Christmas, I asked him, “Jameson, do you know why Jesus was born?”

His little face lit up, because he knew he had the right answer (which was totally unprompted by me!): “To wash my sins away!”

I’m suddenly not bored with singing that song anymore. We can sing it a hundred more times, and then some.* I want him to know every single word, every single nuance of meaning. I want that story to be written on his little heart, and if Happy Day is the pen that will write it, then let’s keep singing.

[*side note to worship-leading sisters: Don’t stop singing a song just because you’re sick of it. Chances are, everyone else is just starting to notice the lyrics, and aren’t they the whole point?]

books: raising kids who hunger for God

There’s a book I read last summer and forgot to mention, but it needs to be mentioned. If I could have only one book about family and parenting, this would be — hands down — the book:

Raising Kids Who Hunger For God, by Benny and Sheree Phillips

This little book — and it really is little! — packs a punch like no other. Be ready to do some serious unpacking on your own time, because they clip right along, hitting huge topics in each short chapter. Starting with a look at the American family in crisis, they cover everything from teaching responsibility, to getting a vision for your child’s future, from respecting authority to how to discipline, from training toddlers to shepherding young adults — all within the context of aiming your arrows for fervent, passionate, God-oriented lives of effective service. There is tons of scripture cited, so it really is just a launch pad for further study. I made myself read only one chapter a day, but I wanted to just devour this book. I can’t begin to tell you how often I was in tears, my heart racing as I was stirred to get God for my children. Yes, I want good kids. Yes, I want to discipline well. But yes! I really want kids in love with Jesus!

Get this book. That’s all there is to say!

making home.

I’ve been thinking about home. About how my role is to make home. And how I need to know what I’m aiming to make.

Traditions.
Culture.
Values.
Environment.

Things that go into the making of a home (and things that happen one way or the other; our job is to be proactive in shaping and making.)

There is one overarching theme in my heart when I look at that little list:

I want my kids to grow up with daily, weekly, yearly traditions of time with Jesus.
I want our home culture to be one of free expression of love for the Savior.
I want my daily, hourly activities to show that I value the Word of God and the living presence of the Holy Spirit moving in my life.
I want the environment of our home to be the warmth and peace and joy that comes from constant singing and praying and living the gospel.

All of that boils down to this:

I need to make time for the Lord.

And I know how basic that is, and I know that shouldn’t be anything new, but, well, as my dad would say, I leak. I get filled with revelation, and then next thing I know, it’s all leaked out.

So this morning, instead of any cleaning or projects or even playing with the kids, I sat at the piano and worshiped. I practiced stopping. Coming to a dead halt. Saying with my words, my actions, my whole heart that in this moment, nothing matters more than getting God.

I’m pretty sure that’s the first step in wisely building any home.

Here’s to a year of good foundation [again!].

counting joys

When the alarm went off, I was already exhausted. It was one of those days.

Several hours later, several loads of laundry had been cycled, lists of errands and to-dos and must-pack items had been made, the house had been pulled together after a very busy Sunday, the boys were dressed and even looking cute, and I’d found every return and receipt I needed. We all headed out to the van, got buckled in, and — nothing. The car wouldn’t start. As Ryan was discovering this fact, I tripped on an uneven brick and twisted my ankle (but did not drop the baby: points for me.)

I calmly collected the kids and got started on a Christmas craft instead.

Ha! Nope, that’s not true, actually.

I quietly got the kids out of the car and waved to Ryan as he set out (on foot) to work, but inside I was seething. I could tell a volcanic eruption was near. I was thinking something along the lines of, I don’t know WHOSE IDEA OF A JOKE THIS IS, BUT IT’S NOT FUNNY!!

I stood on the stoop with bags in hand, a three year old asking repeatedly, “What are we doing now, Mama?”, and a teething baby crying and clawing at my legs, and I suddenly remembered James 1.

Count it all joy…

And I know that a spoiled morning doesn’t compare with a lot of other trials and tribulations, not even close. But I do know that these everyday furnaces test us and try us and prepare us — if we let them.

Would I let it?

In tears, I managed to say, out loud, “Thank you, Lord, for this opportunity to grow in patience and trust in You.”

(Naturally, Jameson asked who I was talking to, why I was crying, and when lunch would be ready. This is the current soundtrack of my life, and someday I’ll miss it.)

Since that morning crisis, the day has continued in the same pattern. (I was hoping that a quick response to the Holy Spirit’s promptings would usher me into a few hours of ease and happiness, but not this time, I guess.) William has cried all day. He pinches my skin when he nurses, and I’ve almost lost it a couple times. Jameson has been a peach, but an energetic one. None of my lists have been touched, and if that weren’t overwhelming enough, that awful devil has started in with nagging thoughts about how filthy the kitchen floor is and what a lousy housekeeper I am.

It’s that sort of day.

It feels unproductive. No, make that counterproductive.

But that’s not the whole story.

The Bible says that even this sort of day can be hugely productive, if I “let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

And so.

So I repent, repent, repent. I cry out for Jesus over and over and over. And I count even this crisis of the soul as joy, knowing that the testing of my faith produces endurance.

Some things just don’t come easy, but faith that endures is worth the pain.