Michele Minehart

words

Category: Uncategorized (Page 24 of 188)

“God’s timing is perfect” and other things we tell ourselves

January 2, 2014 /

Disclaimer: I’m chewing on this concept. This is a blog, not a a theological tome. I think your expectations will match the content. 

Once a ponce a time – last week – the weather was perfect and the kids were driving us crazy, so JJ took them to the park. Correction: he took half of them. The baby isn’t really into the park yet (and JJ couldn’t carry him) and Lady C… well, that’s the point of this post. 
“Go potty and put on your boots and you can go with Daddy to the park,” I said no less than 27 million times. With reminders. Go potty. Hurry up, daddy’s ready to leave. Let’s go potty. And yet, she refused. So when the van pulled away she learned yet another lesson on listening to mommy and daddy. She chippered up relatively quickly and helped me make dinner. 
Then I made the mistake of going to the bathroom. Of course, since she had not went earlier, she wanted to join me. And then she pranced out of the bathroom (she rarely does anything without prancing) and put on her boots and coat. She opened the door and couldn’t find daddy. 
She’s going to thank me for this picture someday.
She believed that when she was ready, Daddy would be there waiting on her to take her to the park. True, the offer was “if you go potty and put on your boots, you can go with daddy to the park.” She just didn’t realize Daddy wasn’t going to wait to the detriment of the other 2 kids buckled in the car. 
When things don’t work out for us in life, it’s tempting to make God the mean daddy who didn’t wait for you to put on your boots when you were asked. Note: asked repeatedly. Encouraged. Spoken to with love and care. Warned. Exhorted. 
We open up the door to the garage and see that the car has left and we missed the trip to the park. But it’s not because God had the departure time wrong – it’s because of our own stubbornness. It’s a trip to the park – not the dentist – so our driver generously invites us along but doesn’t force us into the car seat, kicking and screaming. 
And God doesn’t stop the world from turning while we learn. Other children get to enjoy the ride while we get our act together and, yes, that’s completely fair. This makes God seem like quite the stick-in-the-mud, doesn’t it? So… inflexible. Unreasonable. 
But God’s generosity isn’t found in giving us what we want, when we want it. It’s found in his willingness to allow us to participate in his action with the world. We get to ride along. We’re invited. That’s the grace. That’s the gift. Putting the offer on our timetable simply because we’re just not into listening to instructions pretty much says, “mmm, thanks but no thanks.” 
Fortunately, we have a God that returns from the trip to the park and promises a new offer tomorrow. The park isn’t closed forever and missing one trip doesn’t exclude us from a future of slides and swings. Yesterday’s stubbornness doesn’t count against tomorrow’s plans. 
So after an afternoon of fighting and ignoring instructions, if you find yourself opening the door to an empty garage, please don’t blame God. He had the timing right. The best thing to do is be ready for tomorrow’s trip. 

The List: 2012 (In review)

December 26, 2013 /

As I prepare for the new year and the ways I can make it better than the current, it’s time I review how I did on last year’s list. *Deep breath*. I’d give myself a B. Maybe B- mostly because I forgot the reasoning but feel I did an overall good job at hitting the targets. 

1. Respond to text, email and phone messages in a more timely manner.  I would like to think I did a much better job of this over the course of the year. Not perfect by any stretch, but I’m seeing improvements. 

2. Tell JJ my most substantial thought each day. Also, great strides. I’ve made a point to put away the electronic devices in the evening to truly talk – though outside of the kids I sometimes forget exactly what all I need to tell him. 
3. Bring JOY to my children’s life. Again, I have my moments and I would like to think that after having a whole year of keeping them all the hours of all of the days, I’m getting better at this. 
4. Engage with my small group.  Well, yes. And, no. We really hit good strides last spring – and then JJ and I decided that we should try to make opportunity for others who wanted to be in small groups, so we launched our own. This one is starting to gain some traction and I’m excited to see what the new year brings. 
5. Find 2 more clients. Well, mostly. I’ve had an assortment of gigs that have helped make the business move forward, mostly on short-term situations. I’m hoping that one current contract will lend me something more permanent because I love the client. 
6. Floss more. Yes. I did this. Not every night, but more. 
7. Take more pictures. Total, utter failure. Not even on Christmas. Or perhaps on birthdays. I’m the worst mom ever. 
8. Get healthy. Good strides! We’re eating better now on a consistent basis while still enjoying life and not feeling completely deprived (yay for pinterest and a few workarounds). I wish I could get to yoga more often and running in the cold is just too… cold… for me. But I’m hoping to make it more in the coming months. Maybe if Mary started evening classes on Monday / Wednesday I could make it… ahem. (Since I know you’re reading). 

Now… to begin composing the 2014 list. 



Raising Imperfection

December 12, 2013 /

Deep down, every mama knows her kiddos aren’t perfect. Some of us don’t have to dig too deep. We love them dearly, but it’s quite obvious from the clothing they “match” and their version of “cleaning up.” They’re not perfect. We know. 

We can watch them fall short with good intentions. But now we’re to the age where I’m learning what it means to be raising a little person, one who, to put it honestly, sins. Sometimes unintentionally, sometimes flagrantly on purpose. 
Kind of like me. 
I don’t fully understand why we (specifically, I) want to have kids, but I believe at least a small part of it is a desire to see a better life. To right the wrongs and fix the misses. The dad who raises a quarterback because he missed the pass for the winning TD. The mom who harps on her kids to clean up bedrooms because she’s lost in her own inner mess. We want something better than what we’ve done and we begin to put our hopes in a child. 
The attempts are centuries old and only one Mama in the world could brag that it worked (and she was too humbled to do so, probably because she never intended it in the first place). The rest of us are left to look at our little ones as they grow into this world, making decisions we don’t like, trying to steer them in the right direction yet knowing that ultimately we can’t control the outcome. 
Today my little man lied to me outright in a knowing, premeditated way. Thankfully it only involved the presence of – or lack thereof – socks, but I nonetheless flipped out. That’s a character trait I simply don’t want for my children – lying. (And disrespecting. Whatever that broad generalization means). 
My sister talked me down and reminded me about age-appropriate actions and his lack of ability to fully understand. I can deal with accidental shortcomings. But now he’s picking up weapons that he doesn’t realize have destructive power and is starting to play with the ammunition. He lacks intent, but he can hurt someone when he pulls the trigger. If he fires off too many rounds, someone will become his victim. 
A good hunter or weapons-man doesn’t fear the gun, she respects it. She understands the power and the consequences. It doesn’t take seeing someone get shot for that lesson to sink in, does it? In the same way, we teach how words and actions carry power to hurt or to help. They’re powerful because we get to choose how to use them. And we don’t have to use fear – we can use respect. 
Which means a lot more work on my part. It means following through, every time. It means doing what I say – every time. It means giving him room to explore boundaries and limits and freedom while I’m still able to wrap my arms around him and help lift the weapon, so we can get a better aim. 
I don’t want him to lie to me, but more so, I don’t want him to become a liar. That happens when he doesn’t learn the responsibility that comes with freedom. 
At this point, his lying does not make him a liar any more than I, in wrapping presents, am an elf.  What we do does not have to define who we are.  I think a good mother would not let him wallow in guilt but instead points higher: he loves people. He wants to honor them. He doesn’t like to hurt them. He won’t live out these truths if he doesn’t believe it’s who he really is and that he has the power to decide how to live. 
He’s testing limits and discovering his own power in life. I suppose my job isn’t to keep him away from the tools but rather show them how to use them to help, not hurt. After I get angry I have to get to work setting the example by honoring and respecting and not fearing, if that’s what I want from him.  
« Older posts Newer posts »

Read more, in your inbox

Contact

Email

© 2026 Michele Minehart

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑