To Teach a Mind

Tonight there was a thunderstorm.  A huge clap shuddered our third-story apartment and woke Kekoa up.  He cried.  I comforted.  He cried some more.  I picked him up.  And he fell asleep in my arms, as I read on the couch.

And as I lay him back so I could pack Josh's lunch, I looked at his sweet sleeping face.  I love when he sleeps.  It is then he is the universal ideal of what a baby should be - adorable, innocent, sweet, cuddly, pudgy.  Reality when awake, of course, is noisy, awkward, lovable, messy, and demanding.

And as I looked at his face, with a little dribble of drool trailing out of the corner of his mouth, and his padded tush, and his dimply little elbows, it hit me hard, all over again.

I am responsible for feeding this little boy's soul.

He will grow up and meet his sin nature and meet my sin nature and Lord willing, meet my Savior and welcome his Savior.  He will learn to read and Lord willing, he will learn to love.  He will watch my face, my tone, my actions and he will make them his face, his tone, his actions.  And then he will be a teenager and he will do the opposite, for a while.  And then he will choose.  He will choose the way he perceives to be better.

Holy cow.

For a moment I was crushed under the serious weight of responsibility.

And then the weight was lifted as I remembered:  I am only the feeder.  I am by no means the shepherd.  

I am responsible to teach and show him the way of goodness and truth.  But I am not responsible for whether he follows that way.  I am responsible for loving his soul. But I am not responsible for saving it.

Because heaven help us if I was.  Guilt, fear, pain would reign supreme in my life.

And grace would not.  Because if I were responsible for his life direction, then how could I forgive when he veers from what I believe to be right?  How could I not hold it against him when his very actions scream to me, "You failed as a parent"?

This weekend a couple who had met Josh's brother for the first time were talking to us about our upbringings.  "You come from a good family," they said.  "You both do."

I smiled and thanked them.  It's true.  We do.  But if the perception that we come from good families are based solely on our actions, then what would be said if we were not mature adults?  That we come from a bad family?  That clearly, our failures as human beings were due to our parents' failures as parents.

No.  Parents influence.  But God determines.

The quotation at the top of my blog is from The Chosen by Chaim Potok (if you've never read it, I HIGHLY recommend it.  That book touched my soul).  I will do everything in my power to help my little boy's mind understand the state of his soul.

But in the end, I am free.  My child's soul does not depend on me.  But no fear, no guilt.

Only grace.

From the time a little girl is about nine years old, the world finds it necessary to inundate her with talks, articles, lessons, and lectures on body image.  So of course every girl grows up hearing "you are beautiful no matter what you look like," which of course makes her wonder what she looks like and why everyone would question that she finds herself beautiful.

And so, most young women spend their time in their prime trying to achieve the perfect look.  Hint: a post-baby body is not the ideal.

Theoretically, a young mother should be at her most vulnerable.  Stretch marks.  Hair that's never neat because it's a perfect grip for little hands.   Abs that have forgotten that they're supposed to be muscles ("tone?  what's that??).  Red-rimmed, sandpapered, sleep-deprived eyes.

And after all the hard work of getting back into shape, you realize that you can lose the weight...but you will never be the same.

But gosh darn it guys, I *grew* a human being.

Kekoa is at the age where he can have preferences, and now that he is able to roll, scoot, and grab things, he can even express them.  And I find myself immensely gratified at how much he depends on me.

I'll put him on the floor for tummy time and lay down nearby to read.  And before I know it, there's a little baby snuggled into my side, reaching for my face.

I love the way he grabs my neck or arm at church as he socializes with all the ladies coming to coo at him, as if to say, "I've got my anchor.  Everything will be okay."

I love his post-naptime haze where he's trying to decide whether he likes the world again, and he burrows his face into my neck.

I love when  he's laying on the bed or couch as Josh and I talk.  He'll hook his foot up on my leg, or grab tight onto my fingers, and just watch.  And smile.

How can you have poor body image when you -- your warmth, your feel, your face, your fingers -- are the center of that little baby's world?  When all it takes to calm him down from a scary experience is your hand, heavy and warm on his back?  When he sees your face walking in the door and that little toothless grin breaks out in sheer, perfect joy?

Answer: you can't.  Because you are no longer the center of your thoughts and desires.  Because you care more about your baby than about other people's opinions.

Because your baby loves you.

Unrelated Things about our New Place

1)  It's awesome.  And here's a secret - I never actually saw the place.  Josh picked it out all by himself.  The first time I saw it was for the walk-through before moving in.  Yay Josh!

2)  I miss "our" dog.  And our neighbor girls.

3)  We are a five minute walk from the library.  Literally, five minutes.  (!!!!!!!)  I. am. happy.

4)  We have a dishwasher for the first time since getting married.  And you know what?  It's not really all that.  We still have to rinse the dishes and scrub off crusty stuff...we just do it with colder water and no dish soap.  So really, not all that much less work.

5)  Did I mention we're FIVE MINUTES FROM THE LIBRARY??!!?!?!  We've been here one week and we've been there....four times.

6)  And five minutes from all our P-ville family members.  Oh my gosh.  So happy.

7)  The local Panera donates all the day-old bread that they can't sell to our apartment complex, and they put it out on a table and it's free for the taking.  French bread, sandwich rolls, vanilla cream cakes.  And here I just made it back to pre-pregnancy weight...goodbye to all that! 

8)  I love unpacking.  I love finding places for everything. 

9) So. Much. Room.  And a walk-in closet that makes our clothes look pitiful.

10)  We moved to cut down on Josh's commute and gas.  But of course, now we drive twice as much because it's half as far.    Hopefully the novelty will wear off and twenty minutes will seem long again.

Dear Grandma and Nana,

Mommy says she doesn't have time to blog because she's supposed to be packing.  I don't know what that means, but I do know it means less snuggle time than usual, so I don't like it very much.  So I thought I would write a letter to you.  After all, Mommy says if it wasn't for you two, I would probably run around naked most of the time instead of having cute outfits.

Speaking of cute outfits, Mommy calls this one "the hippobottomus."  I don't get it, but she and Daddy think it's funny.

"I want a hippobottomus for Christmas"

Some of my favorite things to do include talking, especially when adults talk back to me in my language.  Then I just don't want to stop cooing and squealing.   I also really like being carried.  Mommy says she's really glad that I was a little baby, and that I'm her best exercise program. 

I try to be a helpful little boy.  When someone says "I'm going to change your diaper now," I hold my legs up all by myself.  Mommy says it would be even more helpful if I would just do all my business at once instead of waiting for a clean diaper to finish the job, but I think that's asking a bit much, don't you think?

I also am old enough to like toys.  If you ever felt like getting me one, I like toys that make lots and lots of noise.  Mommy and Daddy would LOVE that too!  My favorite toy is Mr. Lion on my toy bar, but I get frustrated because I try to talk to him and he never talks back.  Then I cry and Mommy has to take the toy bar off and I'm happy again. 

One of Mommy's students sent me a piano, and I really like watching Mommy play it for me.  Soon I'll be able to play it all by myself!

I discovered my bear this week.

This week, I rolled over from my back to my tummy.  At first Mommy thought she was imagining it, because most babies roll over from tummy to back first.  Then the very next morning, Daddy saw me roll over from tummy to back.  I decided to celebrate my accomplishments by not sleeping.  Ever.  YAY!!!  More time with Mommy and Daddy!

Daddy started school again.  I don't know what that means, but I do know that I don't see him between Tuesday night and Friday night.  Friday nights are my favorite part of the week.  I just stare and stare and stare at Daddy, and I smile more for him on that night than I do the rest of the week.  I think Daddy likes it too, because he lets me fall asleep on his chest sometimes.  When Mommy asks if  he wants a break, he says, "Can I have five more minutes?"

I think Mommy likes that, because then she always gives both of us a kiss.  Then she forgets when the five minutes is up.

I also secretly like baths.  I always cry when I first go into the water.  But then I forget to pretend that I don't like them and just smile and smile.   Mommy says I take baths because then she'll kiss me more, but I don't really think that's true.  I think she probably already kisses me as much as possible.

I should go now because I bet Mommy would like my help packing.  But I will see you both in October!  I love you!

~Kekoa

"tired of all this drama"

During my angsty teenage years, I heard some advice.  Never make any big decisions or have a big conversation when you are:

Hungry
Angry
Lonely
Tired

I added to it "never post on the internet" - although these days I might as well delete facebook and my blog if I'm not going to post when I'm tired. 

BUT!  You can be thankful to the person who gve me that advice.  You were spared the gruesome details of this week, which are pretty well described by the song "No More Drama"

On Sunday, we were moving this Saturday. 
On Monday, we weren't moving...possibly until October. 
On Tuesday, we were probably moving on Saturday the 21st.
As of yesterday (Wednesday) evening, we're moving again on Saturday!  :D :D :D  This momma with her empty pantry and defeathered nest all is pretty happy about that.

But.  I had stopped packing.  So now lesson learned: no matter how diligent you are on packing early...there will be a last minute scramble.  And we're showing the apartment tonight, so I'm trying to keep the pretty stuff out and the boxes to a minimum. 

Fortunately, I expect it to take about two hours tomorrow to wrap things up.  Two hours translated into "I have an almost-three-month-old" is really more like half a day, but that's doable.

Anyway.  Pray that the drama is over and this time the move date holds up.

Oh this life we lead

This morning I woke up at 4:00am to the sound of my two favorite men chatting it up.  Josh was murmuring something about a car, and Kekoa was cooing and squealing in response.  His little legs were kicking frantically.

I was about to remind Josh that we don't talk to Baby when he wakes up in the middle of the night, lest he think it's playtime.  And then it dawned on me.

They were both still fast asleep.

At least Kekoa comes by it honestly.

~~~~

The second incident occurred this afternoon.  Kekoa woke up early from his nap, while I was scrubbing the oven.  I stuck him in his rocking chair, put the toy bar in, and returned to my messy task.

Only a minute later, he started fussing.  But I couldn't tell what was wrong. It wasn't his hungry cry, or his tired cry, or his "I need to fill my diaper" cry.  It wasn't even his "hey, somebody pick up the baby!" cry.

Then I noticed that he was staring intently at the turtle on the toy bar as he cried, and I knew exactly what was wrong.  I usually put his toy bar in so that the lion is to his right, and the turtle is to his left.  But this time I had put it in the other way.

I promptly righted the situation and he immediately stopped crying.  He struck up a cooing conversation with Mr. Lion, and I was able to finish cleaning the oven in peace.

Ah well, takes one to know one.  At least he comes by that honestly as well.

"Oh Mr. Lion, how very nice to see you in your proper place!"

Too Much Good Stuff

Lately I keep reading articles online, and thinking "Man, this is so good.  I have to remember this one."  And I have to share them too.  So here's a list of my favorites this month - seriously, give some of them a read.

1)  I once did a post on why the approach to purity taken with teen girls today just doesn't work.  This is probably the best article I've seen that sums it up: telling girls to be pure for their future husbands does them a serious disservice.

  "Christ is the source of everything we need and the giver of all good gifts … but in telling people about Him, it’s possible we’ve sold them on a solution for life’s problems and not life itself."

2)  From my political theory professor at PHC, the rhetoric of a culture "war" has done more harm than good.  So how do we change the culture?

"One solution looks primarily to the political arena for redress; the other, like the Good Samaritan, takes the wounded traveler and cares for him. Do you want to change the culture? Practice hospitality."


3)  Homeschoolers in particular really tout the family as their central values.  But should it be the center?  As a brand-new SAHM, this article is really challenging.   h/t my pastor for sharing it.

"But I found myself, while he described the feelings of idolatry---the sense that this is my whole life, this is what I live for, this is what I dream of, this is what completes me and gives me significance---thinking that, for me, this is family."

4)  Also shared by my pastor, this article addresses the issue of parenting with grace that I referenced earlier on my blog.

I begin by saying, "Remember how Jesus said we were to treat one another?"

"I'm not Jesus!" my oldest responds immediately, his face scrunched up as his feet stomp the tile floor.

5)  As I rediscover the love of reading, this article is a real challenge.  Both homeschoolers who overshelter their children and those who are eager to read all different viewpoints can take heed of this one.  We are not to isolate ourselves culturally...but we also aren't to confuse "engaging" the culture with unqualified enjoyment of the culture.

"Second, we've gone off the rails in confusing cultural engagement with consumerism and entertainment"

6)  Finally, remember my friend who I quoted on gourmet meals?  She posted this link, which is hands-down my favorite post EVER.  I swear they just changed the name of one of my facebook friends, who practically makes these posts verbatim.

"People continue to check Molly’s posts out of morbid curiosity.
“It’s an exercise in ‘How is my life inferior today?’” says one. “If it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger.”

Moving

We're moving next week.  My feelings on it couldn't be any more mixed.

On one hand, I'm really excited.  I'm excited to be near Josh's brothers, and my blue-eyed niece and my brown-eyed nephews, and my sister-in-law.  I'm excited to be able to invite people over without the drive being an inconvenience for them.  I'm excited to be within walking distance of the library (!!!), the park, and my alma mate.

Not to mention that I LOVE the act of moving.  Is that just me?  I adore packing, and discovering old treasures at the top of the closet like the box of letters Josh wrote to me during our summer apart.  I enjoy taking a pile of perfectly good but unloved-by-us stuff to Goodwill.  And what's better than the feeling of organizing a brand-new (to me) kitchen?  It's like getting a new journal, with pages fresh and begging to be filled in.

But...

I am so, so sad to leave this little farm.  I'm in love with our apartment.   I like that the kitchen is a part of the main room, so I can cook and be a part of the daily happenings.  I like that I can clean it in fifteen minutes a day.  I like that our five little neighbor girls come running to talk to us whenever they hear our door open.

But most of all, this year has led to some major lifestyle changes, ones that I hope will stick with us for the rest of our lives.  Changes that have us absolutely determined to - someday - come back to West Virginia.  We want this.

It's the hard work, self-sufficiency lifestyle of our landlords that have us searching for out-of-the-box ways to use the ingredients and supplies already in our home.  That have forced us to value the things we have, rather than the things we want.

It's the need to be intentional about our friendships and relationships, instead of waiting for them to just "happen."  About choosing the people we want to be our closest friends.

It's the distance from the high-stress, always-on-the-go lifestyle of NoVa.    It's the time on the drive where we can just chat.  Sing country songs with the radio.  Ride in silence, each admiring the beauty of the drive.

It's the walks together as we pick out our dream houses, complete with window shutters and a front porch swing ("and rocking chairs, because we'll never be able to get the grandkids off the swing").  It's the dreaming that brings us to talks about long-term plans, goals, and hopes.  And more kids.

It's the kindness of the people everywhere we go.  The old men who stop us to see if we need a ride or if we would like to cut across their lawn for a shorter walk ("oh, thank you, but we're actually walking for the exercise!").  People who aren't too busy, too stressed, too exhausted, too mistrustful to smile and say hello.

I'm going to miss that.

I often tell people that in hindsight, if we had known Josh was going to change jobs, we wouldn't have moved.   That's true.  We never would have knowingly chosen his commute.  And we were hoping to be able to stay here for at least a couple years.

But in hindsight, that may have been God's providence.  We're both so glad we lived here.  Our mindsets and goals have changed drastically.  Our lifestyle and commitments have been so much more intentional.  I'm becoming better at managing our home. We're both becoming better at maximizing the time that we have together.

*Sigh*

I've now managed to write myself into nostalgia.  But isn't that a good thing?  We love where we've been, we love where we are, and we love where we're going.

And let me tell you...this guy's ready to go places

Grace-filled parenting

Here's a not-so-"sorta" for you.  The area where passion is a must.  One that's really been on my mind a lot.

How do you emulate grace for your children?  How do you help them value integrity and good behavior without making it the end-all?  How do you provide consistent consequences for wrong actions while still avoiding legalism?

I am amazed at how many churched young people have no concept of grace.  And yet...I had a majorly convicting realization the other day.

As he usually does, Josh asked me how my day had been.  "Oh, it was a bad day.  He was sooo fussy and just wanted to be held all the time, and his naptimes were way too short."  And then I stopped.  And I realized something.

 I am already parenting without grace.  I am already basing my evaluation of my child on how well his performance matches up to my expectations.

Ouch.  Ouch, ouch, ouch.

Now if spiritual Kanani were parenting, her focus wouldn't be simply on his behavior, or even distinguishing between "good" and "bad" days..  The quality of the day would be based on my ability to attend to my baby's deepest (and not-so-deep) needs.

And one of those deepest needs is the need to know that my love of him is not based on his behavior.

But what does that look like?  It doesn't seem that complicated with infants.  They're not willfully defying you.   When parenting infants, grace means your main concern is the reason behind the performance.  Loving your baby and truly desiring to meet his needs, without getting frustrated that you're in the church lobby with an overstimulated baby AGAIN while your friend's baby happily lets mom sit through the service.  After all, he didn't choose to be overstimulated.

But what does that look like when children are old enough to willfully defy you?  You still have to provide consequences.  You still have to help them learn how to behave.

So how do you do that?

I know there are a couple core principles:

-First, I have to extend grace to myself (and my husband!) first.  If the kids see me beating myself up, they will get the idea that perfection is the goal.

-Second, I have to strive to understand why they are behaving in a particular way.  Sometimes punishment might not be the most effective way to address a hurting heart.

-Third, I have to be generous with expressions of my love for them - and when I tell them why I love them, the focus should not be on performance-based criteria.

-Fourth, when punishments are necessary, they should be based on the misbehavior itself, rather than on my disappointment with them.  Another reason to decide beforehand how we are going to address specific problems: so that our punishments do not reflect our emotional reaction to a child, say, misbehaving in front of an acquaintance that we wanted to impress.

But I still need help in what this looks like on a practical level.  I'm serious when I say that I really want (need) feedback.  How do you show your children grace without teaching them licentiousness?