Category Archives: Parenting

Small Beginnings

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If we oldsters in the autumn of our years could bottle some of the youthful energy surrounding us here in Florida, we’d all have the pep of 18-year-olds after draining the bottle. When our seven enthusiastic young children are at the pool together, other resort guests pick up and leave.

The oldest two, Mary’s twin granddaughters, are the leaders of the pack at nine years old. Witnessing their limitless energy in the water, you’d never know they survived a very rocky start in life.

Hannah and Erika were born almost nine weeks premature weighing 3.12 and 3.5 pounds respectively. When I visited them at the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) the week they were born, I wondered if they would make it at all. Their tiny bodies bristled with tubes and wires, hooked up to the best that medical machinery could offer.

When Hannah contracted meningitis and Erika evidenced heart trouble, anxiety ran high. But day-on-day, they gained weight and strength, leaving the hospital a month later.

Their young mommy, my niece Julia, did a stellar job nursing them, no small feat for two tiny babies who needed frequent feedings. She was grateful for each day’s progress and never complained about her daunting task. Today she’s every bit as thankful for their presence in her family as she was the day they were born.

Julia and her husband Drew had a jump on the rest of us in terms of viewing their children as God’s creative handiwork. Our babies came at full term without crises, and we took that blessing for granted. But the twins (and their younger brother Andrew) are so appreciated, their parents take advantage of every opportunity to turn their attention toward the God who made them.

Hannah and Erika were taken on their first mission trip at six years old. Including them on a journey to Ecuador was a risk, but the girls’ world view is shaping up to be full of tenderness toward the poor, partly because of that trip. In preparation for serving with their parents and other families, the girls were told of children who lived with their parents in a dump, scavenging food others had discarded.

After returning home, the twins prayed for the people they’d met. One evening after Julia had dished up dinner, Erika took her untouched plate of food to the trash and began scraping her food into the garbage. “What are you doing?” Julia said.

“I’m sending my food to the children who live at the dump,” Erika said. Although the Ecuadorian families would never receive that offering of love, God did and was extremely pleased with her sacrifice.

Linking that incident with the twins’ early days in the NICU, none of us can doubt God had eternal work for these two fragile preemies to accomplish. And they’ve already begun.

God actually has important work for every life to accomplish, and that includes even those born too prematurely to “make it” on this earth.

It also includes all who’ve had their lives snuffed out before they even have a chance to be born.

“We are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” (Ephesians 2:10)

Travel Time, Part I

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Although Nate always dreamed of having the freedom for extensive travel, I’ve always been happiest at home. When the two of us would go away, he couldn’t squeeze in enough sight-seeing, but walking back through our own front door was always the highlight for me.

Now, however, I have grandbabies. Although I’m getting “up there” in years and going away offers its inconveniences, spending time with these little ones has brought a new dimension to travel. Today Jack and I are on the road, headed south to meet up with two year old Skylar, one year old Micah, their parents, others of my children and all of my sister’s family. We’ve rented a couple of condos in the Florida Gulf.

My travel buddy, Jack, rides like royalty sprawled out on the back seat as we clock our 1425 miles together, visiting friends along the way. Our mostly-empty vehicle reminds me of many a crowded car trip with children jockeying for their fair share of space. Without the benefit of seat belts or car seats in the early years, personal boundaries were loosey-goosey and hard to define.

Just like every family, we always over-packed, pulling out of the driveway loaded to the ceiling. Then car-top carriers were invented, and we bought a tan plastic model from Sears that could have doubled as a giant McDonald’s burger box. It didn’t do much for the wind-flow around our station wagon but held seven full-size suitcases. Although it was a beast to load and unload, it cut down on passenger over-crowding and, by that, on parental insanity.

Driving from Chicago to Florida in March is to travel through three seasons in two days. But when northerners glimpse that first palm tree, it’s like walking out of a blizzard and into a botanical garden show. Winter ends and flip-flop season begins.

One of our many family drives to Florida was particularly memorable. We’d purchased our first mini-van and were excited to break it in together. The car-top burger-box was old and worn by this time but still worked well. As usual, it was crammed full of both soft and hard suitcases.

Half way to Florida we were gassing up and buying candy bars when I noticed a sign for a $2 sit-in-the-car wash. Since we’d started our journey on Chicago’s snowy, salty roads, the new van looked old, and none of us liked that. So as Nate walked into the gas station to pay, I said, “We’re gonna go through the car wash!”

Forgetting all about our carrier, the kids and I sat up straight while the automatic treads pulled us into the tunnel. Massive brushes and thick carpet strips quickly smothered us in bubbles.

Suddenly there was a tug on the van, followed by a mysterious racket behind us as the carrier straps snapped and the car wash brushes knocked our box off. Because of all the suds, though, we were oblivious.

At the end of the wash, our clean van sat sparkling in the sun just in time for Nate to see it as he came from the mini-mart holding a coffee in each hand. I was smiling, but he was not. “What happened to the carrier?” he said, looking at our rooftop.

[…to be continued]

“Don’t begin until you count the cost.” (Luke 14:28)

A Torturous Thought

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In our ladies Bible study we’re looking at the biblical Job and his response to massive losses. A couple of weeks ago our leader asked, “What’s the worst loss you can imagine in your life? What one thing do you fear the most?”

She passed out 3×5 cards and asked us to write it down. I thought about Job’s losses, wondering which one caused him the most anguish. It had to be the death of his 10 children. Scripture describes his deep love for them, his concern for their souls, his consistency in offering sacrifices on their behalf.

By the end of the book, Job’s health and possessions were restored. He was twice as wealthy, except in one category: his family.

Yes, he fathered 10 more children, but what about the first 10? No one child can take the place of another. I wonder if Job ever quit mourning those 10 losses.

With the 3×5 card in my lap, I tried to imagine how I’d feel if all seven of my kids died in an accident. Was this the one fear, the one loss to write down? As I thought about it, an even worse scenario came to mind. What if my children had to suffer intensely, and I couldn’t help them?

I wrote it on the card: “to see my children suffer.” Our leader then asked whether or not we could entrust God with what we’d written down.

Last night Birgitta and I, in talking about Christ and the crucifixion, thought maybe we should view the movie PASSION OF THE CHRIST. We’d seen it seven years ago when it came out, but not since. Both of us remembered the raw torture inflicted on an innocent Jesus as shown in the film. It had been difficult to watch. But we decided to do it as one small way to participate in the Lord’s suffering.

The two-hour plot detailed Jesus’ last 12 hours and was just as wrenching as we’d remembered. This time through, I also noticed the secondary storyline of his mother, Mary. Although Scripture doesn’t describe her emotions on that last day, it does tell us she was there, focusing on her son and grieving.

In the movie, as Mary watches Jesus suffer physical torture, she endures emotional torture. Of course there was no comparison between the intensity of the two, and we’ll never know the extent of Jesus’ pain as he bore the sins of the world. But on the sidelines, Mary’s mother-anguish looked much like the fear I’d written on my 3×5 card.

She’d always known something terrible was going to happen to her Spirit-conceived firstborn, since he was the God-son whose name meant “to save the people from their sins.” And yet she stood at the base of the cross looking up at this precious one in such terrible pain and bore her own pain with courage.

She entrusted it to God for his purposes, and I must do the same.

“Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene… Jesus saw his mother there…” (John 19:25,26)