Pick Your Poison

Posted on September 5, 2011 by Margaret

In the news recently a mother from Alaska was put on trial for using hot sauce to discipline her son. She was found guilty of child abuse because she video taped the episode to get on a TV show entitled “Mommy Confessions.”

I haven’t watched the video and don’t have an opinion about her tactics but must confess that years ago I initiated several hot sauce episodes at our house, too. I was making a point about unacceptable language, trying to fit the punishment to the crime as Dr. Dobson had taught us. I did let the offender run to the bathroom immediately to spit and swish, but a drop of hot sauce was always effective toward improved speech and usually didn’t need to be repeated.

Last night we ordered Chinese food for dinner, expecting to serve 10 or so, and in the bottom of our boxful of food was an abundance of sauce packets: sweet, soy and hot. Holding up one of the yellow packets, I said to Nelson, “Do you recognize this hot sauce from your childhood?”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “But I love it now.”

His comment got us talking. Was the “yucky” childhood taste of hot sauce a precursor to developing a fondness for it later?

As we ended the conversation he said, “I wonder if you drank enough poison as a kid, you’d eventually get a taste for it.”

I thought of the first time someone tastes alcohol, a poison of sorts. It’s often bitter and unpleasant. But a young person who considers beer drinking to be sophisticated will keep trying, gradually gaining a liking for it. It may lead them into alcoholism, and in a sense Nelson’s question about getting a taste for poison has its answer.

The same principle, though, can work the other way, too. Developing a taste for something positive can start with forced bits that seem negative. Take, for example, prayer or reading the Bible. For new Christians, neither is easy. We wonder whether or not our prayers are getting through, and Scripture seems confusing. But we want to obey God, so we grit our teeth and keep trying.

One day we see a prayer answered or realize a biblical passage has touched our need, and we want more. We’re developing a taste for something that was distasteful in the beginning. Eventually prayer and Scripture can become addictions of the highest sort.

Of course it’s important to put the right things in front of our children, but the same is true for us. It’s probably a good idea to be cautious about new experiences, knowing small tastes can grow into demanding addictions.

I’m not sure what will happen to the newsworthy hot-sauce-mom, but since I’ve made a true confession in this post, the authorities may come after me, too.

“Ships, though they are so great and are driven by strong winds, are still directed by a very small rudder.” (James 3:4)

Need-Meeting

Posted on July 27, 2011 by Margaret

No matter how many babies we added to our family, Nate’s daily office routine didn’t vary much. He left the house at 6:00 AM and walked back in at 7:00 pm, a long day (for both of us). But he was faithful never to be late coming home, almost to the minute.

My daily routine, on the other hand, was anything but consistent. One evening when I was especially frazzled, I asked Nate if he’d be willing to give me a gift. He answered carefully: “What might that be?”

“For you to stay home 30 minutes longer every morning so I can take a walk.”

I desperately needed alone-time to think, pray and gather courage for each day. The kids began waking around 6:00, so someone needed to be there.

Nate answered quickly. “OK, but I absolutely have to leave by 6:30 to get to my desk when I should.” His commute was a drive to the Metra station in the next suburb, a park-and-walk, a 45 minute train ride, then a 1½ mile walk to the other side of the Loop.

The next morning and every day after that for several years, I walked out the door at 5:45 AM and back in at 6:30. The few times I was late in returning, I’d pass Nate on the road. (He didn’t dare give me a schedule-inch, knowing I’d take a mile.)

Some days I hoofed it and covered a great distance. Others were more of a meander. If it was raining, I wore a hood and took my chances with the lightning. A foot of snow didn’t keep me home and neither did 22 degrees below zero. That 45 minutes meant everything.

Nate never reneged on his word and never complained about my rearranging his life. This impressed me, since I knew he didn’t understand the depth of my need. He did understand the walk was important to me, and because of that, it became important to him, and he sacrificed to make it happen.

Nate did a good job satisfying my need, but the #1 Need-Meeter is God. He watches us carefully, monitoring what’s important and what’s not. Then he sets to meeting what he considers to be a need.

The system doesn’t work, however, unless we agree to his definition and his way to handle it. We don’t always need to get into that college, get that specific job or marry that certain person. We don’t always need healing or even continued life on this earth. What we do need is unshakeable confidence that God’s assessment of what we need is flawless.

As our 7 children grew and the “baby” went to school, my need for the pre-dawn alone-time evaporated. Nate didn’t say, “Finally I can leave when I want!” He just said, “OK.” His definition of that gift would have been “30 minutes daily.” My definition was, “a sacrificial love willing to meet my need.”

In doing that, he’d imitated our loving, need-meeting God.

“Let your compassion [Lord], quickly meet our needs, for we are on the brink of despair.” (Psalm 79:8)

Boy Oh Boy!

Posted on July 7, 2011 by Margaret

I clearly remember the day our fourth son was born. We had one girl, and as a six year old, she’d been praying passionately for a sister. God was planning to give her her heart’s desire but not yet, because along came yet another brother.

That night at the hospital, after the wonder of a safe delivery and its joyful aftermath had calmed, Mary asked Nate, “How do you feel about having another son?”

Nate’s answer was a good one: “You can never have too many boys.”

Back in biblical times, having boys was critical to carrying on the family name and profession. The more sons, the better. Even in the early days of our nation, as pioneers moved west and took advantage of the government’s free 60 acres and a mule, fathers hoped for boys who could help on the farm.

When our 4^th boy came along, our good friend Florie gave Nate a poem with a valuable message about little boys and their fathers. I still have it hanging above a photo of Dad, Nate and our four sons:

A careful man I ought to be.
Four young fellows follow me.
I do not dare to go astray,
For fear they’ll go the selfsame way.

Not once can I escape their eyes.
Whate’er they see me do, they try.
Like me, they say they’re going to be,
Those four young chaps that follow me.

I must remember as I go,
Through summer sun and winter snow,
I’m molding for the years to be
Those four young chaps God gave to me.

God’s plan is that boys grow into men who can be humble, godly leaders, especially in marriages and families. Warren Wiersbe used to say he didn’t understand how husbands could forfeit the chance to spiritually lead their children, telling us he counted it a golden opportunity and a considerable privilege to do so in his own home.

Raising boys well is a big job. James Dobson wrote a thick book about it, and experts agree it calls for different tactics than raising girls. The most difficult part of fathering comes in being a strong example for sons to emulate, and that includes loving their mother. The list of all a man should do is long and difficult, but God doesn’t leave them without his encouragement and assistance.

He, too, is a father to a son, and they’re a unified pair like no other. Jesus told us, “I do what my Father tells me to do and say what he tells me to say.” (John 14:10, John 12:50) When a father is 100% perfect, this tact works out well for the son. Earthly fathers can’t claim perfection, however, but they can study the example of divine fatherhood and emulate that close, loving bond.

I’m thankful daily for our four boys. They’ve demonstrated strength during my days of weakness and have, I’m sure, made their own father proud.

Nate was right. You can never have too many boys.

“Children born to a young man are like arrows in a warrior’s hands. How joyful is the man whose quiver is full of them!” (Psalm 127:5a)