Michele Minehart

words & yoga

Month: February 2015 (page 1 of 2)

Toddlers turned teens

Inspired by this post over at Stuff Moms Say, I give you my own bucket list of parenting toddlers-turned-teens.

1. Wait until my child is mid-conversation with someone whom he really enjoys talking. A potential date or a new friend, perhaps. Then repeatedly poke him in the thigh while saying his name 15 times per second. Bonus points for sitting on their foot and trying to hang on their arms at the same time.

2. When running at least 10 minutes behind schedule en route to her activity, insist that I must potty NOW and it CANNOT WAIT. After stopping at the nearest road side rest, release all 10 drops of urine into the toilet.

3. Take all the couch cushions and make a huge mountain immediately before he wants to lay down and take an afternoon snooze.

4. Insist she cooks dinner NOW. Refuse to eat it. Without tasting it.

5. No more than 13 seconds from when my child gets up from the computer, climb into the seat and bang my hands upon the keyboard repeatedly.

6. Wear a leotard all day long in the middle of winter. Insist on wearing it to pick them up from school.

7. Whenever she tells me “no” (because she is a teenager and she will) I shall ask at least 2 more times expecting a different answer and then one more time after that, just to further prove my point.

8. When she is dressed up and feeling beautiful for the homecoming dance, poke at her midsection and ask if there’s a baby in her belly.

9. Loud-whisper to them through an entire church service. Or movie. Or wedding. Or his NHS induction.

10. Take her ipad and/or phone and delete all the pictures, movies and change the password.

 

 

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A tribute to the KLM21878

If you’ve been around this blog long enough, you know I trust my pal Kristy (formerly known as KLM, now KLR) and frequently quote her wisdom. So, in honor of her 30-somethingth birthday, a brief history of my first other half. (Because she was around before JJ.)

There was that time when she agreed to help me lead a Good Sex retreat. We woke up with our normal extrovert headaches in a cold building, formerly a granary, and I was snuggled up close. We had a brief chat about her need for personal space. We also discussed the fact that when Jesus sent the legion of demons into the pigs, he had full power and authority to have sent them into antelopes or earthworms instead, but instead He chose pigs. Thus, we shouldn’t eat bacon. It was a young and immature decision that we later reversed.

There was the time we went to Ichthus. I took an early crew and she came later with a few other students. The rains that year were so severe that we barely made it into camp. It was pouring and muddy. We had packed an air mattress and I put it in the back of my dad’s truck instead of a tent because there was limited tent space and I wanted more distance between me and the mud. Of course, the cap to the air mattress remained in Upper Sandusky. I had a rash on my eye. It was so muddy that the trucks to empty the porta-potties couldn’t get in to do their thing, which made our “facilities” a tad disgusting. One student went to use them and had to puke before turning around for much-needed relief. So as Kristy arrived I felt relief to have an ally. She told me that because they couldn’t get into the camp the night before she had to take the other students and stay in a hotel. “But don’t worry, I slept on the floor.” Oh, you mean that dry, warm, floor with running water nearby? Such a dear. Did I mention I had a rash on my eye? The irony is that we had made t-shirts for the students (on M.A.S.H. military patterned shirts) that said: R.A.S.H. “Rain and Sweat for Him.” We never made another themed t-shirt.

There was that time soon after she got her new job that she was invited to the Holiday Party in Chicago. A room and dinner for 2 was paid for so we went. We shopped the Mile and froze walking over the bridge to get to the deep dish pizza place. We discovered the Grand Lux Cafe, which we returned to each and every time we visited the Windy City (which was a surprisingly high number of times). We went there with other friends at a later date, a trip for the purpose of seeing David Crowder (of course) but serving to give a healing balm to my hurting heart as I had recently miscarried.

There was that time we drove all the way to Kings Island to watch David Crowder. We stopped for dinner, meandered through the park without riding a single ride and watched him open the show. We were two of a few people who stood and sang apologized to our neighbors for “what is about to happen.” Then Michael W. Smith came out and we sat down while everyone else bee-bopped around. We got bored by the third song and drove all the way back home.

There was the time we took a bunch of kids to Lakeside, for the first time. All the girls in a single house with one bathroom. David (“Daaaaaaviddddd”) was in charge of the boys. We met every evening to talk about the Yay Gods and the Help Gods of our time there and I heard some of the most mature requests from our students. KLM would log all these things and post them to our Xanga page for parents to follow along. We had purchased a cord that gave us the teeniest bit of internet through her old flip phone cell. She would read the emails and wishes of the parents and we would howl as Sue would break into some sort of drama about DOOL and Holly had to tell us that she was keeping us up on Days of our Lives. I watched one of my students express that he had made a decision to follow Jesus that week. We drove home, exhausted, stopping at Applebee’s to drink and swear that we would never return, only to make a list of things we wanted to differently next year. She told me that if we ever leave Lakeside wanting to come back, we’re not doing it right, because it takes everything you have to love so strongly all week long. I’ve adapted that wisdom in many of the ways in which I try to contribute to the church and world.

There was that time we drove to Monica, PA, quite possibly the strangest little city we’ve ever been to, for one of our final David Crowder escapades. We finally met him and had our picture taken. Since we were traveling just the two of us, we had to hand the camera to a stranger to snap the pic and we were sorely disappointed later.

When a stranger says, "I don't know how to use this kind of camera," a word to the wise: believe him.

When a stranger says, “I don’t know how to use this kind of camera,” a word to the wise: believe him.

It was in Monica that we ate at a shady “Italian” restaurant and when we returned to the hotel room we found we didn’t bring an opener for our favorite Chilean red. I think she somehow rigged something with a fork just before I threatened to break open the neck of the bottle. Since then I travel with a wine opener in my toiletries bag, right beside the toothpaste, as a necessity.

There was that time when we decided we were ready to add to our household and we adopted a dog together. We created our own version of a pre-nup and said the dog would go with her when we parted ways. We found the mangy Dinah at the local humane society and loved her boundless energy, even when she ripped up my dining room carpet. After Dinah – and KLM – moved out and JJ moved in, I found the house much too quiet and insisted on getting a dog right away.

There was that time that in the midst of her grief I told her to “find joy.” I was the worst kind of Christian and friend. Somehow she both forgave me – without even having to tell me – and loved me anyway. She is the best kind of Christian and friend.

There was that time that we sat on my couch with a glass of wine and solved the problems of the world. Actually, “that time” was all the time. It was the best way to end the day.

There was that time we decided to just start a Bible study and invited a few other ladies that we adored to come over and gab and talk about angels and Jesus and raising kids and husbands and sex. So we met every week. Even at 8:00 at night.

There was that time that the Bible study decided to meet at Los Arcos because something bad had just happened (and I cannot even recall what it was) and we drowned our sorrows in a pitcher or… so…. of margaritas. At least one 16-year-old was summoned to retrieve his mother. We laughed and laughed and laughed.

There was that time we lost a beloved friend. She had been in the hospital and I stood in the back of the church as the pastor’s wife got the call and we needed to get the service over so the pastor could make it to Columbus. KLM was the lay leader up front and we were signing that it was an emergency. I remember her making the sign for “dead” and I said “no” only to find later that indeed, it had been fatal.

There was that time that we went to the weddings of our “kids.” We sat together at Slim’s and giggled like school girls until his mother came down the aisle and the we sobbed like babies 80% in pure joy at watching this young life grow up and 20% in sorrow that the days of that young life, and our precious time with him, were long past.

There was that time that I made a half-hearted comment about starting a book club, which our friend Jill took seriously. Suddenly this time she and I met with 4 other women to talk about books and babies and life and food became a highlight of my month. I had never been in a book club before – I barely knew what one was – and yet we found ourselves in the world’s best.

KLM hasn’t taught me everything I know, but she’s taught me the best of what I know. I seek her opinion on the things that require deep thought. Of course, I give her advance notice because she doesn’t like me to spring it on her, but she comes back with wise, gracious and hilarious perspective.

As I’ve mentioned before, I rarely rarely suggest products or things to make your life better. Instead, let me advertise friends like this. They exist. Seek them out, treasure them and remember to text them back. Because they will become one of your most precious commodities.

May you know someone of great wisdom, humor and forgiveness. May they sharpen your dullness and soften your pointy-ness. May they save you from yourself more than once and may they accompany you through the darkest and brightest places in life. And may they still love you when you post it on the interwebs.

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Changing the world while wearing a baby sling

I’ll confess, I have a secret love affair with the most boring books of the Bible. People make jokes about falling asleep reading Leviticus, but I find it a fascinating revelation of the course of life when it was written. Find it no surprise, then, that my current reading is Deuteronomy. (Also, I got a new First-Century Study Bible for Christmas – “Explore Scripture in its Jewish and Early Christian Context” – which probably only furthers my complete geekery, but gives me joy nonetheless.)

The book of Deuteronomy is like a “final thoughts from Moses” letter – do not fear, don’t forget to turn of the coffee pot, do not fear, remember all the stuff God did for you, do not fear… you get the drift. He starts at the finish line – they’re standing on the edge of the desert, in the foothills of the land promised to them decades ago. And he tells the story about what happened when God said, “go!”

Now, I don’t believe this story, or any Biblical account, gives someone wearing a Christian badge the right or authority to start overthrowing cities and homes. These specific people were promised a specific place. They were following a cloud of God to get there. While I love a good analogy, we must be careful to know the limits of our rhetoric. I’m guessing that God did not specifically call you to go and take the really nice house in a neighboring subdivision. I’m just sayin.

So, back to the edge of the desert. God says, go! Actually, He says things like “do not be afraid, I will go with you and I will fight for you,” and encouraging things that you should cross-stitch into your pillow. However, as we know, such sayings sound good but often do little to cut the fear. So the people of Israel pretty much say, “What the hell, God? You brought us all the way over here to die?” You see, they had sent a scouting team and they came back with a 10/12 report that the people were giants and the Israelites had no hope.

To say God was a little angry would be an understatement. He “solemnly swore” (1:34),  which we all knows only happens just before an epic topple, that no one from the generation would ever see the good land. They were all heading back to the desert until a new group of Israelites – ones who would listen – grew to follow through on God’s instructions.

[box] “And the little ones that you said would be taken captive, your children who do not yet know good from bad – they will enter the land. I will give it to them and they will take possession of it. But as for you, turn around and set out toward the desert along the route to the Red Sea.” (Deut. 1:39-40)[/box]

This stopped me in my tracks. I know the argument because I argue it all the time. But what about the children?! I can’t just go off and DO all this stuff because I have little ones entrusted to me. Someone could hurt them. I have to think about their future. I want to offer them the best, and danger is not the best.

Image via CC by ‘‘ ِ Abdallah Al-Qahtani

Image via CC by ‘‘ ِ Abdallah Al-Qahtani

I’m a firm believer that the Bible doesn’t have random, meaningless writings in it. God answered these people with reference to the children they feared loosing because it was probably one of their grumblings against doing what God said to do. It was a scary command, one they weren’t convinced they could actually succeed, and to top it off, mama had an infant on her back and a toddler on her leg.

God gives a different version of good parenting than my natural inclinations. He says that we are to be faithful to him first. When we’re not faithful to follow God’s instructions, instead of protecting our children we are handing them our battles. In our desire to give them the good and right thing, we must, in faith, step out and do the hard thing. We must answer God’s call.

When this particular generation of Israelite parents declined God’s command, they also forfeited giving their children the opportunity to grow up in a land flowing with milk and honey. Because they were afraid to fight for it. Instead, they took these babes back to the desert to wander around. Their children buried their parents under sand and rock in the middle of nowhere. And these parents left their children without a legacy of faithfulness. Instead of telling their children, “we believed God, so we did it and now we live a blessed life,” they had to rewrite the narrative to say, “we didn’t believe God – please don’t make the same mistake. All eyes are on you, my child, to take these people into the place God promised because I didn’t.

Many of us want to raise children that love God and others. We want good, Christian kids who will turn into faithful, loving adults. That’s fantastic. But what will get us there is probably not charts and prizes for memorization of the Bible (though, that’s a nice thing to have scripture hidden in our hearts) but rather a front-row seat to watching parents believe God and live faithfully. The studies out there are clear: the number one influencer on a young person’s faith isn’t a stellar youth group. It’s parents who value their faith and live like it.

I’m not talking about curbing language because it’s “not Christian” or making a show of reading the Bible. I’m talking about the way in which you respond to God’s call on your life. When you take that thing, that I-have-to-do-this thing and turn it into something for the glory of God, and your children have a front row seat to watching it unfold, that leaves an impression. When mama has to leave for a small group or a meeting or an event and comes home glowing in a way that only means she experienced God – that sticks far more than mama staying home and saying that it’s important to be like Jesus.

If we don’t do the work God has set in front of us, the scary thing to which we are called, that which needs God’s presence or a complete failure is sure, than we will hand off that battle to our children. That’s not keeping them safe. That’s not giving them a good life. That’s handing down the wrong legacy.

God asks us to stop hiding behind our children, using them as a basis for our fears. Instead, we are to step into a faithful life that will give them an example of what it means to follow God.

 

 

**Obvious but I’ll state it anyway: Don’t do stuff that puts your kids in direct line of danger and just “hope for the best”, please. This is about how we use parenting as a shield for our fears. God isn’t into child sacrifice – just read the book. 

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