An Excerpt from ChooseNow to Grow Grand, Not Old by Teri Gasser. Book on SALE now on Amazon for 33% OFF until November 26th!
Both of my grandmothers exercised wisdom when it came time to downsize and make a final move to be near family. However, only one seemed to take full advantage of the new possibilities. One event during a family gathering illustrates it best. It happened after our second Thanksgiving meal together.
I had spent much time and prayer preparing an activity for after the family feast. I wanted to facilitate a fun time of interaction between my mom, grandmas, and four children. Making gingerbread houses struck me as the perfect project, a sweet way to work together and prepare decorations for Christmas. I baked enough walls and roofs for four houses, one for my folks, one for each of my grandmothers to take home, and one for our house. Each of my kids paired up with a grandma, except Jenni. She got stuck with her mom, yours truly. It seemed to be going just as planned. I have pictures of everyone smiling. We licked frosted fingers and nibbled on candy, laughing and having a wonderful time. Then, when Anna and Grandma Erma finished basic construction and started decorating the outside of their house, Erma left the table. She went to the living room and sat in an easy chair.
(My grandma Erma with my daughter Anna)
Maybe she felt tired or bored. Maybe. Or maybe she didn’t like working with a twelve-year-old. Maybe my daughter and Erma had different ideas about decorating. We will never know because she never excused herself or explained why she left the table. Later, when the projects were complete, we took pictures. Erma refused to come and have her photo taken with Anna. My mom felt so sorry for Anna. To top it off, when it came time to send the gingerbread house home with Erma, she flat-out refused the gift—the gift I had prayed about and spent so much time and money preparing, the gift she worked on with her great-granddaughter. My grandma rejected a present intended to bring Christmas cheer to her home.
“Oh, no, you take it home,” she told me as I offered to take it to her car as she was leaving.
“But Grandma, we already have one,” I explained again.
“Well, Anna can put it in her room. I’d rather not have it, thank you.”
Ouch. I cannot judge Erma’s motives. I’ve already shared a few speculations. I can tell you her actions and words put a damper on the day. We never made gingerbread houses together again. Oh, my kids and I did, and sometimes my mom and Grandma Irène joined us, but not Erma. It never became a Thanksgiving tradition.
On the other hand, Grandma Irène paired up with my youngest, seven-year-old Jon. She kept that gingerbread house displayed in her apartment year-round for several years and bragged about it to everyone. That’s gratitude at its best!
God bless you as you celebrate Thanksgiving in a grand way!
TeaTime is a quarterly (February, May, August, and November) reflection on various qualties.
gra*tu*i*tea /ɡrəˈt(y)o͞oədē/noun 1. something given voluntarily or beyond obligation, usually for some service like being served tea then helping your hostess wash cups, or slipping a teabag into a thank you note.
As I sip and savor tea steeped from that surprise tea bag I found in a thank you note, I taste tangible evidence of my sweet friend’s appreciation. When we enjoy our favorite drinks at our local coffee shops, leaving the baristas a gratuity proves our thankfulness for their service.
Did you know God instituted suggested gratuities into the sacrificial system of the Law? He calls them thanksgiving sacrifices. Like tipping a waiter, these sacrifices were to be voluntary, “of your own free will.” Yet there is a clear expectation that if God’s people are thankful for His salvation, they will give above and beyond what’s required.
Do we? When God provides for us in a big way, do we use a portion of His gift to bless others? As we enter this season of Thanksgiving, let’s turn gratitude into more than lip service. Let’s give generously. Let’s share our abundance with those who serve us at church.
“Let him who is taught the word share in all good things with him who teaches.” Galatians 6:6
Let’s show our gratitude to Jehovah-Jirah by using what He’s given us to provide for the needs of brothers and sisters in the faith.
“Therefore by Him let us continually offer the sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of our lips, giving thanks to His name. But do not forget to do good and to share, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.” Hebrews 13:15 – 16
Then we can continue giving gratuities to the Lord by providing for the poor beyond our church walls. Jesus reminds us, “The poor you have with you always” (Matthew 26:11), and the apostle Paul wrote, “that we should remember the poor” (Galatians 2:10).
How might our celebration of Thanksgiving impact our neighborhood if our celebration extended beyond a Thanksgiving meal? Wouldn’t flooding our communities throughout the year with outpourings of generosity glorify God more than an annual feast and statements of thanks? We could tip beyond 20% and include a Gospel tract (I’ve heard more than one waitress complain about the stingy after church crowd). Let’s not be them. We might make purchasing an item for our local food bank a regular part of our grocery shopping.
“It is good to give thanks to the Lord.” It’s even better when we confirm our appreciation with a gratuity.
Abba, we praise You for Your generosity towards us. We ask that You open our eyes to tangible gratuities we can leave in Jesus’s name throughout the year.
My son-in-loves good friend said concerning women, “Any creature that can bleed for a week and not die should be feared.” Yes, sisters, God, Who should be feared and is wonderful, made us to be fearfully and wonderfully strong. Let me introduce you to two of the scary, strong women I know as I share an excerpt from my newly released book,.
Legendary Lola (born on Friday the 13th, October 1911!
“She always brought home the most ribbons from the fair.”
“She worked as hard as any man!”
“She always caught the biggest fish!”
“She could drop an elk bull with one rifle shot from horseback.”
Who was she, this legendary woman? Lola Michaeline Burton Salveson, my Great Aunt. Lola loomed larger than life when she came up in a family conversation. She was my father’s favorite aunt and her husband, Orville, a.k.a. Bud, my dad’s favorite uncle. Together Lola and Bud ran a cattle ranch south of Pocatello just outside the smaller than small town of Downey, Idaho. Much like the legendary Idaho potato picture in postcards—the giant potato that fills a semi-truck bed—Lola’s reputation outsized her demure stature by several feet and pounds.
She stood five feet tall on the outside but dwarfed Goliath on the inside. Her petite frame, complimented by fair features and curly, burnt umber locks, made her quite a good-looking woman in her youth. Her dark eyes gleamed with steely resolve. Now, I’m not saying that Lola was stubborn, but I will say her tenacity made a mule look compliant. Her feet were small but wide. Poor Lola, finding sandals to fit was impossible for her. She liked painting her toenails red. Determined to show them off, she hired a doctor to amputate her little toes. “You can’t see pinky toes in sandals anyway. Now I can find sandals that fit,” Lola boasted.
The Heroin Jael
To the Israelites, Jael became a legend when she killed their enemy with kindness. After feeding Sisera and lulling him to sleep, she took her hammer and tent pegs. The tools she had long used to dominate the hard, dry ground became weapons in her hands as she pierced the skull of Israel’s persecutor. Her story appears in the book of Judges, chapters four and five. This gruesome tale reminds me again of Lola cutting off her pinky toes. In her domain, she would show off those pretty red toes no matter what it took!
From creation, God gave us dominion. He made us in His image, and part of bearing that image requires us to rule over our domain. Yes, Sisters, you and I were created to master. For those of us who are married, we partner as one with our husbands. Our place of submission is not a lesser position. We must secure the order of our homes. In so doing, we extend our husband’s ability to have dominion outside the home. I don’t believe a woman should only work at home. I do know if a woman’s home is not well-ordered, she has no business exporting her skills to other domains. We need to get our priorities in line with our purpose. Once those are in order, it’s all about domination!
In this trick-or-treat season, let’s choose to treat others with the strength and courage God intends us to have. Let’s choose to live larger than life!
The love we give to others, the influence for good we have in another’s life, and the deep, meaningful friendships we make by investing and taking an interest in people; this is the wealth I want to accumulate. It means I must be aware of the people around me and learn to anticipate their needs. It means I need to make an effort to remember names. It amazes me how a stranger serving me responds with delight when I read their name tag and address them by name. We all long for appreciation as an individual who matters. When we choose to learn someone’s name, it speaks volumes to them. I discovered this when Bill and I came to Grace Baptist Church.
Before moving to Kansas, I got a copy of the church’s picture directory and began studying it. I looked at the faces of people I’d never met and prayed for each one by name. The Lord blessed that effort. Over and over again, different members of Grace shared their surprise at how quickly Bill and I remembered their names. They were impressed with how many other people we remembered and knew. All I can say is that I made a small effort, but God multiplied the results. He gets the glory!
God reveals His heart for people by knowing the number of hairs on our heads and knitting each one of us in our mother’s womb. By declaring us His image-bearers, He valued people above all other created beings. The Lord deems us worthy of a priceless redemption bought by the blood of Christ. He paid top dollar for broken merchandise. Now, if that doesn’t make us feel loved, nothing will. And if that doesn’t motivate us to see the value of others, nothing else can. Since God finds people that worthwhile, shouldn’t we? Simple practices like remembering birthdays, favorite colors, and food preferences honor people. Understanding their goals, sorrows, and fears reveals how much we value them. Relationships—thriving, loving relationships—make us truly wealthy.
Let’s grow grand in our relationships by accumulating friends and investing in people. Let’s not be misers when it comes to being generous with people. Let’s get really rich!
My face ached. It felt crushed under my heavy spirit. War, death, illness, and more death crammed the margins of my prayer journal. People I cared about, people I loved were suffering. Scattered out of my reach across the globe, the only way I could serve them was through prayer. Praying without ceasing, empathizing with their pain, and wrestling with God to somehow lift them out had left me buried under their burdens. I wept.
I unloaded all my burdens in a Facebook post. Notifications started rolling in. At this point, I still felt the weight, but I also felt thankful that others were praying with me for those I loved and for my spirit to be lifted.
Then I heard His Spirit prompting me to make a trade.
“To console those who mourn in Zion, To give them beauty for ashes, The oil of joy for mourning, The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.” Isaiah 61:3
I looked up Isaiah 61 and meditated there as a notification from Messenger came up on my phone; a sweet sister had sent me this same verse.
God calls us to bear one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2). And many bore mine that day. Many commented they, too, felt spiritual oppression. I began praying for them also. The Prince of the Power of the Air was busy. Our battles were fierce. “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.” (Ephesians 6:12)
Was I wrestling satan? God? Both? Was I wresting with God against the devil, or had I taken God on like Jacob refusing to let go until God blessed me? I think I did the latter, and that’s why I ached.
My heart and stomach craved comfort. I bought a loaf of fresh French bread to find relief. I gobbled down two thick slices slathered with butter so thick I left teeth marks in it. Yes, I sought the comfort of comfort food. It tasted marvelous. Was it God’s provision for my needs? I needed to taste and see the Lord was good in this time when He seemed so absent. Was it idolatry? Maybe. A day or two later, I confessed it as such.
Wrestling with God and demanding a blessing He’s already promised has consequences. Yes, Jacob prevailed, but he limped for the rest of his life. Maybe God wanted Him to slow down and remember His promises.
The physical pain I felt slowed me down that day. I was demanding God to fulfill His promises now. I wanted miracles! The only time such imploring succeeds is when we’re working on God’s timetable, like when Danial prayed for God to restore Israel after seventy years in exile. Daniel read Jeremiah’s prophecy and asked God to keep His promise. We can and should pray according to God’s Word, but if He hasn’t established the timing, we pray presumptuously to demand Him to do anything“now.”
As El Olim (the Everlasting God), He has all of time to complete His work and keep His word. As Adonai, He alone is Lord. Who am I to dictate to the great I AM when He should do anything? No wonder I hurt. By wrestling the All-Mighty for miraculous responses, I wore myself out. I took a nap, wondering why these trials felt so heavy when these bad things were not happening to my kids or me.
As I lay exhausted in bed, my face still throbbing, I thought of Jesus calling out to those who would follow Him, “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30). So, why did it feel so hard?
Jesus doesn’t want us buried and paralyzed with pain. He wants to bear the weight (the heavy side of that training yoke in Matthew 11); the responsibility to save, heal, and bring peace is His, not ours. I begged for miracles when I needed to pace myself with prayer and waiting—trusting His will, not demanding mine—trusting Him as their Savior instead of trying to fill shoes far too big for me.
I confessed my entitlement attitude—my desire for miracles more than God’s will.
I laid down in bed that night as I had many before, praying for those going through fiery trials, but I no longer wrestled to twist God’s arm for my desired results. I felt peace, not pain. My spirit of heaviness lifted as He covered me and tucked me in with His garment of praise to trust Him with the outcomes.
I remember standing naked in front of my full-length mirror about six months after my second child was born. The reflection of a saggy, baggy abdomen startled me. It’s not how I remembered my figure looking. A decade or so later, the reflection staring back at me would rattle me again but not with stretch marks. This time I noticed a road map had started to form on my face, lines indicating the most common expressions I made. I want to say these revelations of aging don’t bother me anymore, but that’s not entirely true.
While I’m far more comfortable in my skin than ever before, it still surprises me to witness my future self overshadowing my past visage. I’m sure you can relate to some extent because I’ve heard even eighteen-year-olds remark, “I’m getting old!” We’re acutely aware that the future invades our present all too quickly.
The future evokes many different emotions for different people. Some may feel apprehensive, even fearful, at the mystery of what’s to come. They cling to the past and fight the effects of aging. Others look forward to new seasons of opportunity and choose to make peace with the older stranger staring back at them from the mirror. This latter choice is the one wise women make. Our ultimate future should inform our present circumstances. “Strength and dignity are her clothing, And she smiles at the future” (Proverbs 31:25).
My grandma, Irène, displayed this strength and dignity. At ninety-nine years old, her rectum collapsed. For a younger person, simple surgery could correct this body failure, but surgery was not an option for my grandmother because of her weak heart. Her response to this humiliating consequence of aging was, “Ces’t la via!” Life in a fallen world will ravage our health over time. When it does, will we choose to smile? Irène did.
For those of us who God gives long life, we should not be surprised that our futures include trial, pain, and loss. Scripture makes this very clear. How will we walk through those wildernesses? Will we smile and trust God for a good ending or complain like the children of Israel? Choosing contentment and joy don’t come naturally. Positive attitudes take life-long cultivation. It takes determination to look beyond our circumstances and trust the Lord to use trials for our good.
“Cease from anger, and forsake wrath; Do not fret—it only causes harm” (Psalm 37:8). This is my go-to verse when I feel my knickers in a knot. I don’t want to be an angry, fretful woman. At sixty-one, I’m already feeling a loss of strength and vitality, but I cling to this reality: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day” (2 Corinthians 4:16).
My friend Betty and I share the same birthday, although she’s a few years older than me. When I told her happy birthday, she said, “I quit celebrating those.”
“Why?!” I asked. “Every year is another year closer to going home to Heaven, another year closer to being with the Lord forever, another year closer to having every tear wiped away! Birthdays are always worth celebrating.”
“Well, when you put it like that, you’re right. Let the party begin!”
I’ve been to four 100th birthday parties and watched many news clips of individuals celebrating their centenarian birthday. No one partied as hearty as my grandma Irène did at her party. She had a live band and danced in her walker. She grinned as the band ended with her favorite song, Good Night, Irène.
God granted me the privilege of knowing many women in their eighties and nineties. I watched as some grumbled through their last years; others flourished and made the most of the time they had left, like Irène. They enjoyed frequent visits from friends and family, continued attending and serving in church, and found ways to use their time well. They finished life grand. I want to finish the way these women did. So, I choose my habits and responses to difficulties with care. This is how they grew grand, and I want to grow grand, too. Do you?
Let’s choose to keep smiling at our futures. When life throws eggs at us, let’s bake a soufflé and say, “Ces’t la via!”
It’s hard to find women in their eighties and nineties that will serve as role models and mentors. So, God put it on my heart to share the treasury of older women He’s put in my life. My book, Choose Now to Grow Grand, Not Old, will be released in October 2022. In this book, I share the characteristics I’ve observed that make these women grand and the choices they made to finish life well. It will be available for pre-order soon. Please check it out by clicking the link below.
My daughter’s new boyfriend decided to T.P. our house. We chuckled at his display of affection, but my teenage daughter’s amusement turned to groans as I delegated the clean-up to her. I suggested she recruit the culprit for help.
It helps to think of unwanted advice and criticism as verbal toilet papering. Well-meaning people toss these words our way to show they care. Unfortunately, we’re more inclined to dodge their comments as if they were sticks and stones. While pranksters squander yards of toilet paper, words are only wasted when they fall on deaf ears.
“The ear that hears the rebukes of life will abide among the wise. Whoever ignores instruction despises himself, but he who listens to reproof gains intelligence.” Proverbs 15:31 – 32. Intelligent people consider even unsolicited advice and warnings.
Rule 1. Listen! Instead of deflecting and rejecting unpleasant counsel, let’s hear and understand. Invite the person into the conversation, like I told my daughter to ask her boyfriend to help her clean up. Take time to understand what the other person meant. Sometimes we misinterpret things. What we heard may not be what they said. Even if we find someone’s advice not applicable to our present situation, we may find it helpful in the future. Listening and learning are marks of wisdom.
Rule 2. Listen in Love! “Owe no one anything except to love one another,” Romans 13:8. When someone comes to us with unwanted words (notice I said when not if because it will happen), we owe it to them to treat them in love. “Love is patient, kind, …is not provoked, thinks no evil,…bears all things” (1Corinthians 13:4,5,7), such as hurtful words and annoying advice. How do we want to be received when we share our thoughts with another? Jesus expects us to receive comments from others the way we want our words received.
Rule 3. Listen with Gratitude! “Open rebuke is better than love carefully concealed. Faithful are the wounds of a friend,” Proverbs 27: 5, 6. With friends like that, who needs enemies, right? Wrong! Enemies don’t care. Enemies won’t bother with you. They want to see us fail. The rest of Proverbs 27:6 says, “But the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.” People who tell us we’re fine when we’re not or have an idea how to remedy our problem but don’t tell us are not helpful. Wouldn’t you rather have someone try to help and fail than fail even to try? Be thankful for people who care enough to say something, even if it is the wrong thing.
Rule 4. Listen in Humility! I touched on this in the first rule, but it bears deeper consideration. “Hurt does not equal harm” (source unknown). As we read in Proverb 27, wounds from a friend are faithful, not fatal. I know that when my feelings are hurt, it’s usually because my pride is injured. When my feathers get ruffled, I need to pluck them off.
The adage “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me,” was taught to children so that they would learn that being hurt by words is a choice. We can choose not to take offense. We can choose to disregard insults. We can choose to overlook a person’s clumsy attempts to be helpful. But these choices require humility.
Truth spoken in love can hurt. Being told we’re wrong hurts, but pain that prompts us to repent promotes healing. “Yes, all of you be submissive to one another, and be clothed with humility, for “God… gives grace to the humble.” 1Peter 5:5
Rule 5. Listen as a Steward! What do we do with these unpleasant words? We own them for God’s glory. Let’s pray through unwanted words and ask God to show us if there’s any truth in them. Digesting unwanted words in prayer is a lot like eating chicken. Thank God for His provision, then chew the meat and spit out the bones. Like poultry feeds our bodies, listening prayerfully to unwanted counsel will nourish our souls. It may be that the person who spoke to us is God’s messenger, after all.
Comparisons spill out when we welcome a new family member. “Look, she has her mama’s eyes.” “I see her daddy’s dimpled cheeks.” “She has Aunt Jenny’s red hair.” We search those precious newborns for family resemblance. We. Just. Do.
Last year my oldest daughter gave birth to her fifth; my youngest daughter welcomed her first. Yeah! Two new grandbabies for me! The babies were born three weeks apart. Both baby girls weighed the same. Dark hair covered both heads, and both babies have a raspberry birthmark on their backsides (not the same spot but the same size). I call them identical cousins, but they aren’t.
They differ in several ways: eye color, activity level, even their reaction to a dirty diaper. God wove these similarities and differences into my granddaughters just as He does the whole human family.
Back in the ‘90s, I watched Arsenio Hall’s T.V. show. His facial expressions and jawline mesmerized me because these features reminded me of a friend from high school. Yet, Arsenio is African-American, and my friend descended from Irish stock. Despite their contrasting hair and skin tones, their similar facial features reveal their connection. Physical similarities that ignore geopolitical boundaries confirm our sacred union as one human family. We all bleed red. We all need love. We all descended from Adam.
God creates each of us in His image. Reflecting His multi-faceted majesty requires infinite diversity; hence, human diversity is divine. God diversified languages to force people to populate the whole world.
God’s judgment at Babel drove people to migrate across the globe (Genesis 11). Different weather conditions and food supplies began to shape different cultures. Adaptation transformed the physical features of people in varying regions. Unfortunately, humanity is a sinful race.
We constructed class and racial systems to claim superiority and oppress other people groups. We deny the truth with these false contrivances; God created all people in His image. The grievous sins of classism, racism and ethnic supremacy grieve God. Jesus calls us out of that darkness.
“There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” Galatians 3:38
In the proceeding passage, Paul acknowledges our differences and establishes our value. No one is less than human in Jesus’s eyes.
As followers of Christ, we witness God drawing people from every tribe, tongue, and nation. But do we embrace the diversity of those cultures? Pastor Irwyn L. Ince Jr. shows us how it’s done in his brilliant book The Beautiful Community.
I traveled through Ethiopia, visiting churches. A remarkable transformation in their worship occurred when a Marxist regime expelled foreign missionaries in the ‘70s. Without the influence of westerners, the Ethiopian churches cultivated their own style of worship.
I enjoyed listening to drums and the lilting of women praising God. The women often keep time with the music by stomping their feet and rocking their hands back and forth as though they held precious truths. I felt compelled with joy to join in the lilting during one service. Dark, smiling faces turned toward me. They had never heard a white woman lilt, but they seemed pleased that I did. By embracing their form of worship, I embraced them. With their smiles, they welcomed me.
“In order to be in community, we have to experience belonging, a sense of being at home.” Irwyn L. Ince Jr. The beautiful Community (page 84). My Ethiopian brothers and sisters made me feel at home.
How well do we welcome minorities in our local churches? “It is the church’s job to find ways to affirm the full humanity–the royal dignity–of all people, especially those others are inclined to despise.” (Irwyn L. Ince Jr.). Let’s be mindful to include, rather than ignore, minorities in our midst. We need to be mindful of what Pastor Ince calls “minority fatigue.” Let’s love minorities by extending hospitality; let’s show interest in them by asking about their culture. By reaching out, we set the stage for a beautiful community—a foretaste of Christ’s coming Kingdom.
My heart aches for moms and daughters who are estranged. How can I help prevent this? What encouragement can I share with young moms so they will enjoy friendships with their children when they’re grown? I decided to ask the experts: three of my closest friends who happen to be my daughters. “What did I do as a parent that paved the way for the close relationships we enjoy today?”
Know the Goal
Anna, my youngest daughter (she’s a new mom), responded first. “When we were adolescents, you told us that you were raising adults, notchildren.”
Young mom, begin with the end in mind.
Our job is to work ourselves out of a job. We must prepare our offspring to become responsible adults. Grownups should get up and go to work—on their own—understand how to manage money, be good citizens, and someday good parents for our grandchildren.
As moms of infants and toddlers, we spend so much time keeping them close, not letting them out of our sight. It’s easy to forget that, at some point, we need to let them run ahead without us. Hovering too close, like a helicopter, whips a lot of wind. That force either pushes children away or beats them down. Moms, let’s give them the space and lift they need to launch.
Teach children to do things for themselves. One of my favorite mom moments was a phone call from daughter number two at the end of her first year of college. “Mom, I’m so glad you made me learn to do things for myself! I’ve spent all week helping girls who have no clue how to do anything for themselves.” The college she chose was 3,000 miles from home. Before she left, I walked Jenni through making plane reservations and helped her decide what to bring and how to pack everything. She already knew how to navigate an airport. When we flew together as a family, I’d point out how to read arrival and departure boards. Our job is to teach them to leave.
Anna also said, “You gave us bumpers and a wide lane.” Godly parents set boundaries that leave room for children to fail. Choices have consequences. If we create a narrow rut by always choosing for them, children won’t learn how to choose. They need a wide lane.
Boundaries serve to keep children from fatal harm, not failure. Let your kid forget their coat or shoes once in a while. I know a mom who made her forgetful, barefoot child use his allowance to buy flip-flops instead of a new toy. Failure is not an enemy; failure is a teacher.
Insulating children from the consequences of their choices disables them. Children need boundaries enforced, and enforcers are rarely popular. Let your kids take a low or failing grade on an exam. Let them forget to do a chore. Instead of nagging, let them feel the sting of laziness as they hit the bumper of working to bring that grade up or lose a privilege. Bumpers keep kids out of the gutters. My friend used to say, “I spank my kids so society doesn’t have to.” Sometimes you have to be the joy-killer to be a good parent. Raising happy children may be the world’s goal, but it’s not the goal of godly parents.
“I hate you!” screamed each of my children more than once. I’d always reply, “I still love you, and you still need to obey.” When my children balked at consequences, I reminded them, “The goal of all discipline is self-discipline. If you don’t want (fill in the blank: time out, a spanking, grounding), then don’t disobey.”
If you want your children to be your friends as adults, quit trying to be their best buddy before they grow up. Parent your children while they’re young, so they can grow into adults who choose to be your friends. Keep in mind that a vital part of this is being present for your children.
Be Present and Available
More important than being popular with your kids is being present. My oldest daughter, Rachel, said, “You were always around and willing to hang out.” You can’t develop a relationship with someone if you don’t spend time with them. Hurry consumes far too much family time. We rush our kids from one activity to another, packing the calendar with events and obligations. As a result of providing opportunities—some for them, some for us—we crowd out room to rest, to just be together.
Doing nothing is essential; God ordained Sabbath.
It refreshes our patience with our children. We can welcome their interruptions and invite them into our work, so they’re learning new skills.
A neighborhood girl was a frequent visitor to our home. One day as she helped me garden, she said, “My mom’s always on the computer. I’m glad you let me come be with you.” Being present for my children made me available to other kids in my neighborhood. Oh, young mamas, please come home if you can. Our communities are falling apart without adult supervision. Your children will grow and go. Many. Meaningful. Moments. It’s the 3M tape that sticks hearts together.
Be Interested in Who They Are
It’s hard to like someone who isn’t interested in you. When I held my first baby, I wondered, “Who is this little person?” I studied each child the Lord entrusted to my care. That pursuit paid off. My middle daughter, Jenni, said, “You took interest and gave constructive criticism to my artistic pursuits.”
I also noticed the first time Jenni counted blocks at six months old. Before she knew the names of the numbers, Jenni knew precisely how many blocks the four-year-old had stolen off her walker tray. She hollered until the thief restored all four blocks. After earning a bachelor’s in accounting, Jenni became a lawyer. Today, she’s a major law firm partner, wheeling and dealing big money. Art provides her with relaxation. We love strolling art museums together.
I also spent hours reading to daughter number one, the bookworm. Today Rachel’s a present homeschool mom providing classical education for her five children. She and I both write. We exchange books and discuss what we’re learning together.
I cheered from the sidelines, encouraging my youngest, Anna, the athlete, to climb higher, run faster, and flip further. The daughter who appreciated my “wide lanes and bumpers” serves as a State Trooper.
Anna entered the academy, meeting the male fitness requirements! We love taking walks when we’re together. Lately, we visit a lot on FaceTime, discussing the challenges of a new baby.
These women are my heroes. I never imposed my dreams on them. I let my daughters be dreamers. Together we discovered who God intended them to be. And I’m very thankful they each choose to be my friend.
Every follower of Jesus ought to spend at least one night in a tent because tent camping illustrates lessons we too easily forget, like how to be content in all our circumstances.
When Bill and I moved to Iowa after he graduated from seminary, we settled into a daylight basement apartment. I use the term daylight loosely as the only full windows happened to be in the bedrooms, where it’s nice to have darkness. Two narrow window wells allowed little light into our living room. This dwelling challenged my sanctification because I’m a woman who loves living in the light. I’m not too fond of dimly lit rooms. That apartment provoked a complaining spirit in my soul. I was not content until the Lord reminded me of tents.
I enjoyed camping trips as a child, many under a tent. I remember playing card games through rain storms in a tent. The dim flame of a lantern provided just enough light to see the cards and enjoy the smiling faces of my family. The raindrops tapped on the canvas like unseen fingers striking piano keys to serenade us. And when the rain relented, we’d exit our weekend dwelling and return to enjoy God’s great outdoors, refreshed and glistening with His goodness.
That day in my Iowa dungeon (as I often called it), as I was reading my Bible and praying, the Lord reminded me that tents have no windows, and as a follower of Jesus, this world is not my home.
Dear Sisters, every roof we live under while we are on terra firma is a temporary dwelling, a tent. Understanding the apartment in Iowa was just a temporary dwelling helped me choose contentment. Remembering my happy childhood days surrounded by a canvas draped over poles helped improve my attitude as I traded my dungeon perspective for a tent mentality. But oh, how quickly I would forget.
Two years later, after living in a bright, second-story apartment in Madison, Wisconsin, my husband and I bought our first house. I forgot it was only a tent. I painted and wallpapered and spent countless hours perusing catalogs (much like browsing online)—in reality, covetlogs—dreaming of the day I could afford new furniture and the perfect home décor accessories. Soon a burglar broke in and stole my contentment. His name is Covetousness. Have you met him?
I had acted like a dim wit trying to turn a tent into a place. I had to confess my sin and be reminded again that I am a pilgrim just passing through. My dream home is Heaven; no store sells furnishings as fine as those in my Father’s house.
I remember Dr. Dobson saying on one of his radio shows that women married for a few years often become discontent with their homes. It’s true. We get bored of the décor, feel finical limits that keep us from the house we really want, and often the messes left by the messy people living in our tent messes with our attitudes. Yet, God expects us to learn contentment no matter what our tent looks like (Philippians 4:11).
After twelve years in Madison, we moved to Oregon and bought our second house. We traded up from three bedrooms to five. The difficult trade-off was losing my huge kitchen in Wisconsin and settling into a tiny galley kitchen in the new house. Apparently, I didn’t settle well. My eighteen-year-old daughter took a summer mission trip to Uganda six years after our move. When she returned, she showed me a picture of a lovely woman named Grace.
“Mom, look at Grace’s kitchen,” it was a simple wood-burning stove in a tiny cement block house. “She cooks for almost a hundred orphans in that kitchen every day. Look at her smile. Mom, please, don’t ever complain about our kitchen again.”
Ouch! Faithful are the wounds of a daughter growing into a loving friend. I needed that tent lesson. I began thanking the Lord for my kitchen, Grace’s example, and a daughter who loved me enough to admonish me when I needed it.
Bill and I now reside in our third tent together. My oldest granddaughter describes it as a palace, but I remind her it’s only a tent. I remind myself and others often it’s all junk until Jesus comes. At sixty-one, I’m still learning new tent lessons. And I promise to share a few more with you as we steep in God’s truth and camp out together (ahh, another joy of camping hot wets in the morning from water boiled over a campfire). Let’s help our hearts learn to be content by humming an old familiar tune (or looking it up on YouTube if it’s new to you),
“This world is not my home. I’m just passing through. My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue. The angels beckon me to Heaven’s open door, and I can’t feel at home in this world anymore!”
