not consumed

Learning to Speak {When There are No Words}

Cari — Fri, 17 May 2013 09:00:16 +0000

“I want to teach a sign language class. Do you know anyone who would be interested?” Tamara asked during our conversation after church.

This was music to my ears. Home schooling four kids ranging from 8 to 16 was always a challenge but trying to meet the state criteria for high school graduation seemed daunting at times.

One requirement was two years of foreign language. The state of Colorado recognizes sign language for those requirements, and I had four children who wanted to learn it.

“Yes, we would join your class,” I replied, jumping on the opportunity before it was withdrawn.

This began a wonderful time of learning not only how to communicate with the deaf but expanding our worship as we learned how to sign worship songs. Each week we gathered together with two other families to learn and practice sign language. The beginning was slow while we learned the rudimentary alphabet to enable us to spell out words when we couldn’t remember a sign for a word. When we began learning numbers, colors and foods, the kids’ interest grew as they began to really communicate with one another. Our vocabulary expanded, and we began to spend entire days without saying a word but signing our communication not only at home but while shopping. The kids enjoyed the attention and looks they received. We began to not only learn the language but also the isolation a deaf person may feel. Our understanding grew as we studied the social aspect of being deaf.

Around the dinner table we would tell jokes but dad was left out because he didn’t know our new language. “Stop talking in front of my face!” he would say jokingly. Sign language came in handy when we were in places too noisy to talk like the high school swimming pool. We spent an hour each day swimming laps and playing in the water. When it was time to go I would sign to them, “Five more minutes” followed by, “Time to go.” All this was done without yelling and was met with only a little resistance.

We found sign language to be very useful as we continued using sign language in our daily lives long after the classes were over. Sign language became a part of our time of worship at church, especially for the girls and I. When signing was added to singing, the meaning deepened as our hands entered the worship with our voices.

One Sunday, my daughter, Beth, stood next to me at church as we signed and sang “I want to know you” by Sonic Flood. Her face shone as she sang:

I want to know You
I want to hear Your voice
I want to know You more
I want to touch You
I want to see Your face
I want to know You more

My heart swelled with worship of our God. Beth’s face and the expression of her hands showed she did too. The song rang with truth; our desire to know Jesus more, to draw closer to him, close enough to hear him, to see him, to know him more. As we left church, my heart was still singing.

The next day God, granted the dream Beth had sung just the day before.

She died Monday afternoon and stood before our Lord. She heard his voice, saw His face and touched Him.

The following Sunday, we shocked everyone as we walked into the back of our Sunday school class. I could not bear to walk this path without God, and I could find no better place to keep that connection with Him than being back in church. As we sang worship songs, I could not sing a word pain choked my throat and swelled my eyes with tears; but there was nothing wrong with my hands, and I worshiped in sign.

Sign language became my worship language for many years. I could not sing without tears whether they came out of pain or out of rejoicing in the redemption and blessed assurance of Heaven.
When Tamara asked ten years ago if we wanted to learn sign language, I had no idea the impact it would have on my life.

Sign language became my soul language when I could not speak.

Sign language gave me the ability to worship with all my heart, my entire mind and all my body especially when there were no words.

Fifteen years later, I am finding there are still times when my only words I have are those offered to my Lord with my hands.

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When the Fun Stops

Stephanie Cary — Wed, 15 May 2013 09:00:24 +0000

A pair of arms slipped around my waist and squeezed me tight. I looked down to see my son with his face buried against my side, his dark head tucked into the crook of my arm. We had just arrived home for the evening and life had slipped into its normal routine. Homework. Dinner. Laundry. Dishes.

We had already had our nightly discussion about the things we needed to do and I had left him in his room, working on homework, while I slipped away to the kitchen, my hands full of dishes and my mind full of chores. But when I saw his face, all of that disappeared.

His cheeks were crumpled with emotion and tears leaked from his eyes. “Alex, what’s wrong?” I whispered.

He rubbed his nose against my shirt and, when he spoke, his voice was choked. “I just wish life were the way it used to be.”

My heart sank. After struggling to be both mother and father to my children, it’s hard to hear that I’m not perfect. “What do you mean?”

He looked up at me with earnest eyes. “I know you love me. I know that,” he nodded emphatically. “But sometimes,” he paused, as if to gather his courage. “Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it.”

Setting aside my dishrag, I sat down on the couch and pulled him onto my lap. At nine, he’s almost too big to hold comfortably, but in my heart, he’ll never be too big for cuddles. Praying for guidance from above and a heart that was willing to listen, no matter how much it hurt, I opened my mind and let my son speak his.

As he talked about how busy I was and about how un-fun our life had become, my mind floated back over the past eighteen months and filled with images he couldn’t see. Images so painful and dark, traumatic and life-altering, that I will never be the same because I’ve lived them. I saw valleys that I had walked into and kept him out of, deep waters that I had carried him over, just as my Father faithfully carried me.

The truth is, I understood where he was coming from. When we entered our storm, the fun went out of our life. After my husband’s arrest, I had every bill to pay, the entire mortgage, with a third of the income. Fun became a word I didn’t know. My entire world narrowed to my children. All I wanted to know was how I could protect them and keep them safe.

When you’re in the middle of the storm, it’s hard to forget a time before the storm. A normal life seems like a long-forgotten dream. You’re just struggling to survive, trying to keep your head above water, praying you won’t drown. Laughter is hard to come by.

In those first months as a family of five instead of six, we tried to create a new “normal.” Friday night became our movie night, full of popcorn, giggles and four little bodies snuggled against me. On days when the weather was beautiful, I’d pick the kids up after school and we’d head to the park with a basketball to shoot hoops until the sun went down. Those memories are some of my favorites because they echo with laughter. In my mind, I see each of my children’s faces, lit by the setting sun and beaming with happiness.

But the storm has a way of draining the happiness out of life. Whatever the storm, it comes with its own debris. Lawyers, courtrooms, bills. Work, chores, homework. Even after life moves on from the storm, the residue remains. The storm has changed the landscape and everything with it. Nothing is familiar and balance is hard to find.

A few months ago, I went back to my hometown for the weekend. I spent the afternoon playing with my children on the swing set I had played on as a child. As my daughter made up a silly game, I joined her in the fun, racing back and forth between the swinging seats, like pendulums in an obstacle course. I laughed, I hollered, I jumped and leaped and skipped. Somewhere in the middle of it all, I realized I was having fun. And then, I wondered why.

The answer startled me. I had nothing else to do.

No dishes, no laundry, no chores, no distractions. Nothing to take me away from my children and the joy of simply being with them. They were my world, but my world had become focused on survival. Playtime had been strangled by responsibility. The fun had been squeezed out of our day-to-day and we had forgotten to put it back.

As I cradled my son on my lap, I made a commitment to put the fun back into everything I could. Oh, life will still be busy. There will still be responsibilities and bills and homework that he can’t get out of, but I want our lives to ring with laughter when it can, to bubble over with the joy of the Lord and the happiness that comes from Him.

Tonight, I crawled into bed between my four children and read them a story. I acted out the parts, I changed my voice, I was loud and soft and everything they wanted me to be. As they giggled and snuggled against me, I realized something. Having fun with my children is not an obligation, it’s a privilege. Raising them is not a chore, it’s a gift.

And I intend to enjoy every second of it.

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A Reality Check

LaToya — Mon, 13 May 2013 09:00:15 +0000

For a long time I felt like the world was just an unfair place. It wasn’t fair that my husband chose himself over his family and responsibilities. It wasn’t fair that I was trying to manage being a full time law student and a single mom. It wasn’t fair that my daddy was dying from cancer. It wasn’t fair that my son had a brain that is wired differently from “normal children”. Pity, party of one!

You see my life was not at all the way that I had imagined it. I never thought that I would go through 2 pregnancies and natural births completely unsupported by the person that was supposed to be by my side. I didn’t daydream about being a single mom or having a child with special needs. And for a long time I just couldn’t get past all the things that I didn’t plan on. I would lie in bed going over and and over in my head how horrible my life was. I would lose myself in daydreams about a perfect life where my husband was there and we had no cares in the world.

One day I had a reality check!

I think that we all have ideals that we hold about our future and our lives. Part of life is simply learning to let go of those ideas and hold on to reality. The more time that we spend thinking about what isn’t and what could be the more we grow discontent with what we do have. And when we are discontent we give Satan just the foothold he needs to run a muck in our lives. When I was focused on all the bad stuff that was going on in my life, I was not focused on the good. As long as I had my eyes on what Satan was doing I was not able to see all the good that God was working out for me.

“Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

It wasn’t easy for me to let go of that perfect life that I so desperately wanted, but I had to. When I made that choice to live in the reality of my circumstances something wonderful happened. I started to see how blessed I was. My children and I never went without food, lights, or water. My friends rallied around me and kept me sane. I found the inner strength and determination that I needed to fight for the treatment that my sweet boy needed.

Walking around with my head in the clouds did not take away my stressful life. In fact, the more that I ignored what was really going on the worse things became. The moment that I stopped daydreaming and said to myself ”This sucks!” God stepped in and lifted some of my burden.

“Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

What about you? Are you ready to face the reality of your situation?

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I have heard people say before that pity parties aren't hurting ... by Marissa Dodgen
Beverly I wasn't ready either when God told me to snap out of ... by LaToya
Big hugs to you LaToya. The fact is that I wasn't ready. Yes, I ... by Beverly

When Mother’s Day is hard

Kim Sorgius — Sun, 12 May 2013 12:00:00 +0000

His voice broke the darkness. “Mama, I had an accident in my bed”

It takes all my strength to open my eyes and peer at the alarm clock. 5:00 am.

I swing my feet out of the bed and immediately feel the throbbing pain of the past two 60+ hour work weeks.

The sheets are changed and he’s tucked back into bed when I crawl under my own covers again. But sleep won’t come through the tears. This is not exactly how every mother dreams of celebrating “Mother’s day.”

I lay in the despair, unable to make sense of the injustice. I want to pull the covers up and stay in bed for the day. But I know that I must face this day. I make plans to avoid Facebook where I know my heart will not be able to handle the pain of watching the flowers, cards, and family dinners flow through the news stream. I consider avoiding church, but know that it can’t numb the pain.

Knowing that my little pity party is going downhill fast, I get out of bed and open my Bible. I read and He comforts. I cry and He knows. I open up my favorite hymnal and the page falls open.

Turn your eyes upon jesus…

Look full in his wonderful face…

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim…

In the light of His glory and grace.

It’s true, Mother’s Day might be hard for me…for you. It might be unfair, unjust. It might even be filled with deplorable circumstances. People will tell you that you have lots to be thankful for and that you are a “rockstar” or whatever else they can muster to attempt to ease the pain. No, they don’t understand, but I do. I’m not going to tell you that it’s alright or that you should be thankful for your blessings. But I will pray for you.

I pray today that all these things will grow dim in the light of His glory and grace and that you will bask in His love.

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The Homeschool Village and Not Consumed where she encourages others to rest victoriously in the hands of God, rather than allowing life's difficult circumstances to consume.

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I just saw this post. I had a horrible Mother's Day and my mom ... by laura
What sweet encouragement, friend. Thank you! by Kim Sorgius
Happy Mother's Day Kim, When I checked my emails this ... by April Maria

Learning important lessons along the way

Janelle — Wed, 08 May 2013 09:02:20 +0000

One night after my daughter’s bus dropped them off at our house, my oldest comes to find me with tears on her face. You see, she’s nine. She’s in third grade…and she’s cute as a button. And the boys are starting to notice.

She explained to me about a little boy who started chasing her…but this wasn’t the normal chasing.

Chasing boys at our house is nothing new. I mean this is coming from the little girl who had her wedding ceremony planned out while she was in pre-k! But boys aren’t something that is discussed much at our house anymore. The occasional “boys are gross” comment will pop up and that’s about it. I could just tell this was something a little more.

Of course she probably dramatized it up a bit but something about a note being written from a boy given to her. Then another boy, I think, became a little jealous. She was genuinely concerned that once he caught her, he might hit her. He had some anger issues and we were aware of those.

The teachers had already been told but every time there was a new recess he would start back up again. This went on a couple of days before she finally was scared enough to tell me on a Thursday afternoon. She was sick to her stomach and did not want to go to school the next day.

I told her what she needed to do. Stand up to him, don’t run…and tell him exactly how you feel. Tell him that you like him as a friend but him chasing you is scaring you and you did not like it and to stop. I got the rolling of the eyes look. You know, because I sure don’t know anything!

It made my heart sink a bit. All I could do was think back to when I was young and not ever standing up for myself either AND how that has affected me as an adult. I don’t want either one of my daughters to grow up feeling like they can’t defend themselves if they need to. I don’t want them to be scared and be bullied if it ever comes to that.

Especially as a single parent, you really think twice when you have serious conversations with your children no matter the topic. You want to show them that just because there is not a mommy and a daddy in your house that doesn’t mean you can’t help them in times of trouble. Of course, that would be ideal, having both parents. But I’m pretty sure you all know we don’t live in that “ideal” world.

Of course, we got through it. We always do. The scripture that helped me during this time is 1 Thessalonians 2:7. Anytime I can relate something that we go through back to scripture, it helps me so much. And I realize things like this are just the beginning. But I wouldn’t want to take the ride with anyone else besides these girls I get to call my daughters!

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Thanks for the share. Boys act that way at such age. It's ... by Benjie
I bet the boy's dad would like to know about his son's actions ... by mike

Mom, where am I from?

Angela DeRossett — Mon, 06 May 2013 09:00:44 +0000

This is a tricky question. Where are all the military children from? This topic came up recently when I heard the children discussing whether or not they were from California, Texas, or Georgia. We are currently living in Nebraska and this is the longest place we’ve lived since my husband and I got married in 1996. All agree, however, that this is not the place due to the ages the kids are now.

In 1996, when my husband was in the Marines, we moved to Twentynine Palms, CA. It was there our first child was born and just 6 weeks later my husband’s four year term was over so we moved back to Texas. You see, my husband and I grew up in a small town outside of Dallas and we wanted to go back so we could be near our families again. Our next two children were born there and when our third child was five months old my husband went into the Air Force. 9-11 had just happened and out of support for our country he enlisted and we moved to Georgia. While living there our fourth, and final, child was born.

It made me smile to hear the children’s theories on this subject and later that evening Jason and I tried to figure out those details privately.

Neither of us had a good answer. We agreed that they were from “nowhere”. It is strange to think about that since we’d grown up in one place most of our childhoods.

“So, since we’re from Texas, are the kids ‘grandfathered’ in?” I asked.

Jason admitted he didn’t know either.

The kids agreed that they must be from the places they were born, despite how long they’d lived in those places and truly that is the best answer, I believe.

It is hard not to wonder how things would have been different if they had roots in one place. As of now they are used to making friends that may only be there a few months or a few years. Jason and I are as well. You become thankful for the friendships that expand past moves and learn how to accept that the face-to-face conversations have an expiration date. Periodically I wonder if this lifestyle is fair for our kids, but then I remind myself that they don’t know what life is beyond our nomadic journey.

I think what scares me (a tiny bit) is the thought that wherever we end up last will be the place the kids want to stay for good. There will be no moves necessary. This bears careful consideration when the time comes because if they want to stay there and we want to move back to Texas it is likely we’ll decide to stay with them. As a mother I am pretty certain I will never want to move away from my kids. At that point I wonder if Jason and I too will wear the “from nowhere” badge. It’s been over 11 years since we lived in Texas. For now I realize that my children are not traumatized by the thought. It has been all they have ever known. They look forward to our yearly visits to Texas and always have a great deal to share with our families because of the distance and differences in lifestyles. It has taught them, and us, not to take things for granted when it comes to visits home and friends we make along the way. This question is small and mostly unnecessary in the grand scheme of things.

My husband and I were given a gift by a dear friend when we got married. It was a simple frame with the words, “Home is Where the Military Sends Us”. I still love the sentiment and the knowing that the kids may be “from nowhere” but they are always home.

Military families, what is your response when you think about where your children are from?

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Your article resonated with me, but not because I am part of a ... by laurel
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Stop Looking….Start Living

mike — Fri, 03 May 2013 09:00:29 +0000

I noticed something recently – men and women are different.

Social media tipped me off.

Check out the Facebook page of the average guy. Links to ESPN videos. Pictures of things shot, trapped, or hooked. Cars. Bacon. Jokes about farting.

Then, check out the Facebook page of the average gal. Kittens. Links to Beth Moore videos. Poetry. Stylized quotes worthy to be pinned on Pinterest. Crock pot recipes. Insightful comments about feelings, relationships, child rearing.

My electronic gal-pal Janelle posted one of those insightful comments recently on her Facebook page that garnered a lot of “likes.”

“If you are looking for the love of your life, stop. He will be waiting for you when you start doing things you love. Stop looking…start living.”

You won’t find a quote like this on my Facebook page. First, because the love of my life will not be a “he.” And, second, because the quote has nothing to do with sports, dead animals, cars, bacon or farting.

However, the quote does resonate with me.

What I’ve told my kids is this – go about serving God as you believe He has called you to serve. Then, one day, you will look over and see someone serving alongside you. I suspect that person will be “the one.”

The problem with giving your kids advice is that they expect you to practice it also.

Some of us who are single feel a strong pull to be married. Even if we have been married before and our first attempt was a horrid, painful, messy experience, we know we are designed to be married and we embrace the prospect of finding “the one.” And, we believe that there is this person “just right” for us who shares our passions and who will love us and love our kids.

And, or but, we want that person in our life “right now.”

We tell ourselves and our friends the right things. I’m trusting God to find the right person for me. I’m not going to settle. I’m going to marry for the right reasons this time.

The problem is this – all these right things may require that we wait. Perhaps not one week. Or one month. Or even one year. But, maybe years….or decades of years. We single people suck at waiting.

When God’s timetable does not match our timetable, we “help” God. Sounds ridiculous when you say that out loud that way. Yet us single parents live it out loud in our dating life – often as a bad example for our kids. We waste hours each week trolling dating websites, attending meetup.com events, mingling at half-price wine nights at local bars. Our desire for “right now” compels us to settle for the “almost right person” as we move items from the most-have column to the nice-to-have column. And, God “helps” us see the folly. And, he permits us to learn painfully over and over again if we choose.

It’s like this. I have a younger son who seems to take forever to get ready for school in the morning. Getting dressed. Eating breakfast. Fixing a bag lunch. Taking out the dog. Walking to the car. He does all these in slow motion. Or so it appears to his siblings who have to ride to school with him. As his dad, I know there is a time schedule right for him. I know how long it should take for him to be prepared to leave the house. I know how long it takes to get to school. I know when school starts. When he listens to me and follows my direction, the morning goes smoothly. But, when he decides to operate on his own schedule, there are raised voices, forgotten lunches, and tardy slips. Like it was for his brother and sister before him, I know it will be another few months or another few years before he follows my directions consistently.

My Father also knows that there is a schedule right for me. And, he has communicated this to me through his Word. Yet, I sometimes try to do things on my own schedule. And, there He is. Faithful. Allowing me to experience the consequences. Allowing me to try it again. Allowing me to get it right. Allowing me to receive the reward.

Perhaps I should not be surprise in the irony that one of the most common Bible passages put on dating website pages is from Jeremiah 29:11 –

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

That sounds great! I want to prosper. I don’t want to be harmed. I want hope. I want a future. There’s already a plan for that? I’ll go ahead and push forward with my own unproven, poorly-thought-out, hair-brained plan and cross my fingers that things don’t go terribly wrong this time. Because that’s a whole lot better than waiting to see a plan that’s 100% guaranteed to prosper me, not harm me, give me hope, and give me a future. Silly when you say it that way, isn’t it? Yet, what do we do in our dating life? In our parenting? In our careers?

It all comes down to this – do I trust God? Do I trust the God of the universe, the God who make everything in the universe including me, the God who existed before the universe, to be in charge of my dating life?

Proverbs 3:5-6 is well known but little practiced -

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to him,
and he will make your paths straight.”

I had a man, who does not even know I am single, share a story with me a few weeks back that helped remind me how God can bless us when we trust in his perfect timing. This man had a friend, a single dad, whose wife had left him…and their SEVEN kids. He tried to date for a few years but each attempt was abysmal. So he stopped dating and focused on what he believed God was calling him to do – to focus on pouring out his heart and his time into the lives of his seven kids. And then, after a few years, a woman with two children appeared on the scene. They married last month and are raising nine children together.

That story gave me hope.

Let’s challenge each other to stop doing things our way and start doing things God’s way. And let’s share with each other what God teaches us when we go down our own path. And let’s celebrate with each other the blessings that come from doing things His way.

I completely believe that someday you will click open a blog post from me about “her.”

But, for now, I wait.

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Comments

So true, Amanda. There are plenty of opportunities in our life ... by mike
I love this sentiment! And I think it could be applied to many ... by Amanda
Thanks. by mike
It by Mr Attitude
Encouraging! by Linda Weigner

How to Rely on God When Your Child is Sick

Sharla Kostelyk — Wed, 01 May 2013 09:00:59 +0000

I make the drive on autopilot, having made this trip hundreds of times now. I never bother to look for empty spots as I snake my way down to “our” parking stall, the one in the corner of the lowest level. “Our” parking spot is near the stairs. Some days as we run up the six flights to the top floor, I pause to exhale a prayer of thanks. Taking the stairs is a victory for my daughter.

The first time I drove to this building, we had been discharged from the hospital, my daughter still struggling to breathe. I had begged the doctors there not to send us away, had known in my mommy gut that their assessment was wrong, that something was so terribly wrong with my baby girl.

In the hospital parking lot, I cried out to God for a miracle and He whispered a name. I called that friend and left a sobbing message on her machine. As I drove further away from the hospital, feeling more desperate with each block, I helplessly watched my daughter labour for breath in the back seat. My mind raced.

The cell phone rang. It was the friend whose name had come to mind when I had asked God for a miracle. I heard only snippets of what she was saying “best pediatric pulmonary doc…staying past closing for you…follow my exact directions to get there…go now”.

When we arrived, her lips were again blue. The doctor was incensed but not surprised that the hospital had discharged her. He began to treat her right there in his office. He was able to accurately diagnose her and take over her future care. Some might say the doctor saved her. I know of course that it was God who saved her, God who has plans for her, God who has blessed me with her for this time.

Having a daughter with a chronic illness has caused me to rely on and trust God in ways that I never thought I could. Through it all, my daughter has taught me the power of compassion and positivity and shown me the true meaning of bravery.

Learning to rely on God in the midst of our daughter’s illness did not come easily for me. It is something that at times I still have to work on. These are the things that helped me:

Accepting that I couldn’t change the situation. My daughter’s health was something I could not control no matter how much I wanted to or tried. Understanding that worrying constantly or being in a state of near panic did not help to bring her healing helped me to release that burden of worry over to God.

Reading His word. The Bible talks an awful lot about fear. Reading those verses helps me not only to relinquish that fear but also to realize that for God to provide us with so many verses about it, He must understand how difficult fear is for us.

“For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.”
Isaiah 41:13 (NIV)

Believing in the power of prayer. I read books and listened to sermons and researched prayer. Then of course, I prayed. I asked others to pray. I continue to pray for complete and miraculous healing for our daughter.

Knowing that God is the ultimate Healer. Read verses such as Psalm 103:1-3, Matthew 14:14 and Exodus 23:25-26. Put your trust in Him.

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Adoption Magazine, wannabe crafter, author of That These Two Will Live and Shield: A Framework of Self-Care for Foster and Adoptive Families, and chocolate connoisseur. Sharla blogs about finding joy amidst the chaos at The Chaos and The Clutter.

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By: This Week's This & That by This Week's This & That
Such a hard lesson to learn, thank you for sharing this today. by KM Logan
Dear Sharla, I am realizing that this is what we MUST do to ... by Jacqueline @ Deeprootsathome.com
This post carries such a powerful message! One of my twins, ... by Kasey
Beautiful and so true. I have two disabled (cerebral palsy) ... by Amanda S.
Beautifully written. I don't think I can say more than that at ... by Jennifer

Giving What You Don’t Have

Arabah Joy — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 09:00:54 +0000

When the Third Reich was defeated and Germany was divided communist East and capitalist West, a story emerged from the broken country. It is told that in one area along the division, people from the East would throw their trash and debris over the wall, cluttering the West with junk.

People along the wall on the West didn’t know how to respond or what to do to stop the constant flow of garbage. Until one day someone had an idea, to throw loaves of bread and canned food to the other side. Attached to the food would be a note that read, “Each man gives what each man has.”

That’s what the people did and it wasn’t long before the trash stopped coming over the wall.

Now I’m not sure if this is a true story or not, but I do know each one of us gives what we have, no more and no better. And sooner or later we will encounter situations that cause us to realize what we have isn’t enough. Or even good. Sometimes we painfully realize that all we have to offer is trash.

How can we come to the place where what we have to give our needy children is consistent, nourishing food instead of rotting garbage?

It took adopting a very wounded child to realize that I didn’t have enough. While this was and is a very painful thing to behold in my life, it has been one of the greatest blessings ever because it has brought me to the place of brokenness. When we are broken of self-reliance, we are open to be filled with Something greater… Christ Himself.

Until I come to Christ poor and hungry and weak and needy, I am not able to receive something far greater than I could ever produce on my own. The question of how to give better to our children is just this: receive from God. God works in all of His children’s lives to bring us to the place of brokenness so that we can receive. For me, He has used adoption to do this wonderful thing in my life.

Have your circumstances revealed your lack? Is God working brokenness into your life? If so, I know it can be a very painful, scary place; yet it is a GOOD place. In that place we are positioned to receive from a gracious God what we do not have on our own.

As we receive from God, a couple of things happen. First, we are changed! Instead of just helping someone else grow, heal, or mature, I have personally found deep, permanent change in my own life. And secondly, I have something of substance to give my child. My trash is changed to treasure. I have life-giving, soul-nourishing food for the needy people in my life.

Sometimes the greatest thing we can do for our hurting child is to allow God to heal our own hurts. As we walk through the process of healing with the Great Physician, we are equipped to lead our children down the same path. Each man gives what each man has.

Over the next few months, my posts will focus on this process of receiving from God and allowing Him to do a work in us so that we can be bread for another. I also invite you to join me at my personal blog where I write about our family and the healing power of God to transform.

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how to increase energy as well as a newly released eBook on living Complete in Christ. Mostly though, she is a broken woman redeemed. She writes about God's sufficiency to transform at Arabah Joy.

Comments

Thank you for your sweet words, Vicki. So glad to have sisters ... by Arabah Joy
Your words have convicted me. Trash to treasure, beauty from ... by Vicki Arnold
Jennifer, you are exactly right! He breaks our self-confidence ... by Arabah Joy
“Have your circumstances revealed your lack? Is God working ... by Jennifer

Consistency is key

Dawn — Fri, 26 Apr 2013 09:03:56 +0000

A hard lesson I am learning in motherhood is the need to be an enforcer of consistency and follow through in disciplining my kids. I am the first to admit I am a pushover! So, when it comes to following through on instilling consequences for negative behavior I can’t tell you how many times I have given in to second, third and (who’s counting anyway) chances. I have also, at times, completely forgotten the consequence I had given in the first place! I didn’t even realize what I was or wasn’t doing until I found myself completely exhausted, frustrated beyond my limits and wanting to pull my hair out.

I have two boys, three years apart. My first born was an easy going toddler. As long as he had his trucks and trains he was happy and he let me dress him however I wanted. What he wore meant nothing to him.

On the other hand, my youngest son did care how mama dressed him. For most of his second year he wore his PJ’s around the clock – to bed, to daycare, to church, out with friends – you got it.

ALL.THE.TIME.

Why you ask? Because after many failed attempts it was a battle I chose not to fight anymore. I also justified my reasoning with did it really matter at his age? He can get away with it. I thought, it’s a season and he will grow out of it.

I recall his daycare provider telling me he has a strong will. I remember using that to feel better about myself because her comment reassured me that yes, that must be it, he has a strong will and what I was really telling myself was ‘it’s not me failing as a mom. It’s not a lack in my parenting skills that I can’t get my two year old to wear anything but pajamas! ‘

So, what was the logical thing to do? I began researching on strong willed children, of course because I was convinced my son had a strong will. But what I read didn’t really match all the behaviors of my son. Sure, his will was definitely stronger than mine, hence why he got away with living in his PJ’s Anyway, I wasn’t truly convinced his behavior was necessarily because he did or didn’t have a strong will. I was beginning to realize it was the lack of my will and not addressing certain behaviors because I was too tired or I didn’t want to be late to wherever it was we were going.

Then one day he went from wearing PJ’s all the time to wanting to wear nothing at all! As soon as we would walk through our front door he would strip down to his birthday suit. Oh and how I thought it was a battle before! Now the battle was even greater getting any clothes on him. This is when I became so frustrated I wanted to pull my hair out. Obviously, I was disappointed because my son wasn’t doing what I wanted him to do, but I became frustrated more so with myself and no matter what I tried or what I said didn’t work. I let his defiance get the best of me and the battle raged on.

I am sharing this story with you because maybe you are facing similar challenges. I want you to know you are not alone. I know how difficult it is to be consistent when you are completely exhausted and weary and don’t have another ounce of energy left. I know because I have been there and I am still there and this is something I still struggle with.

It’s in these times I turn to the Lord for strength because when there isn’t anything left in me His mighty power and grace steps in. Just as we need to be intentional in how we raise our kids, we need to be intentional in seeking the Lord for strength and guidance. After all, He gave us these precious gifts and He knows we are more than capable. Won’t you take His hand and allow Him to lead you?

But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.

They will soar high on wings like eagles.

They will run and not grow weary.

They will walk and not faint.

Isaiah 40:31

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