The Second Coming: Minivan Edition

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Disclaimer: I am not, nor have I ever claimed to be, the savior of the world. But I think this is what the second coming might be like…

Scenario 1: Glance at the clock. Realize the time. Tell the kids to get their sandals or socks and shoes on and get their cute selves out the garage door into the minivan. (The adjective cute may or may not be the actual adjective used.) They listen.

Finish up some last-minute things (i.e. pack the diaper bag, turn the fireplace off, make sure all the appliances are off, etc). Listen to cheerful children singing in the minivan, asking each other for help to get buckled into their carseats. Also, revel in the “Thank you, my big brother!” and “You’re welcome, my little brother!” echoing from the garage door into the house.  

Walk to the garage door holding an angelic baby. Buckle her in while the other children sing in three-part harmony. Get in the driver’s seat, start up the minivan, look at the clock, and realize that we will be on time. Maybe even a little early! Life is good.

In the scenario above, the children did as they were told and treated each other very well. They did not get distracted, and they worked together to accomplish the tasks at hand. I wonder how often Jesus gets happy just listening to us do what He’s asked us to? (This is not a judgmental question… I get happy when my kids play nice together and do as they’re told. I’m guessing Jesus does, too.)

Scenario 2: Glance at the clock. Realize the time. Panic. Tell the kids to get their sandals or socks and shoes on and out the garage door into the minivan. They start fighting. Or even worse, thumb wrestling. Or they can’t find their favorite shoes, which I know are mud-caked and sitting outside. Somehow manage to get all their feet shod and headed towards the minivan. They get distracted.

Try to get together all the necessities of life-with-young-children… diapers, snacks, wipes, snacks, nursing cover, snacks, small toys, and snacks. Did I mention snacks? Overhear the children fighting over a ride-on toy shaped like a fire truck. Feel even more pressured. And angry. And disappointed that they are not being team players. After all, this thing that we’re getting ready for is for them!

Realize that all the lights in the whole house are turned on. They did it, those little stinkers! Run room by room to turn all the lights off. Realize that the baby needs a diaper change. Her grinning does not help the situation one little bit. Neither does her crying. Quick-like-lighting is slow compared to how I change and clothe my little wonder. The other little wonders are now crying for food, as if they each hadn’t just chowed through a three-egg omelette. And told me they were all full. 

Run to the minivan. Get all three to go into the minivan for the first time, reminding them loudly that they should have already been in their seats and buckled. They each stop to pick up an imaginary piece of food from the minivan floor. Plop bottoms in seats, buckle wiggly ones in, and steam over to the driver’s seat. They are fighting and yelling and crying. I am sad, angry, and disappointed that they did not listen and are not treating each other nicely. 

I take a deep breath, open the door, and bring down the wrath of Mama. Which can be quite considerable, if necessary. 

In the scenario above, the children definitely did not listen to me or treat each other well. They got distracted by every little thing around them and delighted in picking on each other. How often do we do that as well? Is it better or worse within the church, or those who call themselves Christians? How might Jesus feel when His children disobey His directions and treat each other poorly?

This is not an indictment on any one person, any one denomination, or any one people group. This is not meant to make anyone feel guilty, angry, or upset. This is just something that came to me this morning as Scenario 1 played out in my garage.

Other People’s Kids

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You know what I really don’t like? Other people’s kids.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love kids. I love the potential within each one of them. I love watching them discover and try new things they’d never even dreamed of. I love to see their personalities come out, some sooner than others. And I love to make kids happy.

Know what I don’t love? Some of the luggage kids come with.

Some parents are so overprotective that their children have never had an opportunity to fail, to stretch, or to learn about what they like or don’t like. They’ve lived always in a safe bubble where mom or dad do everything for them. That is not the way life is supposed to be.

Some parents are so permissive that their children have never had the opportunity to explore life from within a safe set of boundaries. They’ve never had a curfew, an expectation, or a standard set for their behavior. Life is not meant to be lived without any moral or behavioral compass.

And some parents are both protective and permissive, depending upon the situation and their child. They know when and when not to loosen the reins. They are keenly aware of both their children and their surroundings, and they are able to adapt their parenting style to address needs as they arise. This is how we are meant to parent. I’m not saying we’ve got it down, but I like to think that this is the style we most use in our house.

Here is where the problems arise: When we are with a group of kids, it is hard to tell what my expectations should be. How many kids come from overprotective families? If they get a little bit of freedom, will that terrify them or empower them? Will they push their larger boundaries too far, hoping for more? And for the kids who come from permissive families, will they balk at new expectations and boundaries? Will they be my “problem” children, or will they be so relieved that someone is expecting something of them that they become model students?

It’s not even as simple as that, if you think about it. Kids have different expectations on them for different areas of their lives. If you watch a family at mealtime, you can often see how the family dynamics are. Some don’t even know that families can eat around the table with nothing to occupy their attention other than each other, while others come with items for discussion. Many kids don’t say “thank you” for the food that they have received and fully expect their every whim and desire to be immediately attended to. When I eat with kids from many families, I can hear their expectations flowing to their peers, too.

“Keep your fork on your plate. We don’t need to put dirty forks on the table.”

“Cut it with a sharp knife. Doesn’t your mom let you use one?”

“Gimme another hot dog right now!”

Kids have good days and bad days. We all do. But if I see things coming up regularly, I know it’s not a “bad day” thing. It’s a family thing. Friends, teachers, and family have brought up some of our bad habits to us and helped us become better parents and advocates for our children. I want permission to do the same with the families I know. But I’m not sure how best to help other people’s kids if I don’t have permission to talk about them.

Just another reason to pray, I guess. And another reason to continue to love other people’s kids.

Holding Pattern

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You know what I like in theory? Flying.

You know what I don’t like very much in reality? Yes, you guessed it. Flying.

I don’t like feeling like I am one of many cattle while going through security. I do not appreciate choosing my shoes on “flying day” based on how quickly I can get them off and on. I do not like getting funneled down progressively smaller passageways until finally arriving at the plane, where passage is only possible if the entire plane decides to hold in their bellies all at the same time, where placing luggage in overhead bins is designed to show off all of our less-than-desirable attributes, and where making small talk with seat mates can be a Russian roulette of torture or jubilation.

I don’t like flying, but I do like arriving at a new place more quickly than I could if I were under my own power.

On my own power, going from Minnesota to Florida would take a long time. (I’m going to leave the specifics to those of you who care about that kind of thing, factoring in the mode of transportation, how often a person stops, and how heavy a person’s food tends to be. I will just leave it at “a long time.”) In an airplane, though, I can get there in just a few hours. Amazing!

Or going from Hawaii to Japan. It could take several weeks at least, but by plane it takes only about eight hours. That’s awesome!

So here’s where it gets tricky… in life, I am currently in a holding pattern. We have sold the house (YAY!) and are waiting to find out where we’ll be moving. We may move to Michigan if I am offered a job there. If not, we’ll be moving to Bloomington, Minn., which is much closer. If we move to Michigan, we need to pack for long distance. If we move to Bloomington, we can take a bit more time and move in stages.

If I believed that my life were completely in my control, I would go crazy right now. I would be trying to figure out what I could do to hasten the decision-making process along, or write up detailed plans for each option, or try to figure out exactly how much we still need to donate. But I’m not.

I’m not going to lie to you. I’ve tried to go down those roads. But making two plans is not really my style. I tend to invest too much of my heart to be satisfied if one of them fell through. So I wait.

The great thing is this: I know I’m not in control of my life. I know that whichever way we’re led, that’s the right way. And I know that whether we move to Michigan or Bloomington, we do not go alone.

Because God is not just with us, He’s the pilot on our little airplane ride called life. Right now He has us in a holding pattern. I’m not excited about this part of the ride, but I can’t wait to arrive at the destination He has in mind for us!

Killing Time

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We were running late this morning, and it was all my fault. I woke up early enough to write an entire opera! Instead, I puttered around and frittered away my morning. We hurried to get into the minivan. We’d be a few minutes late, but everything would be okay.

Then the “low fuel” light turned on and I knew we needed gas NOW.

I called ahead to let them know we’d be running really late, and they suggested that we just come in for a later appointment. I was so relieved… for a few minutes. Then the nagging question arose: How can I kill more than an hour of time? We’re in the minivan, all loaded up, and now we have nowhere to go.

So we headed to the Lowry Nature Center!

The Lowry Nature Center has hiking trails, indoor restrooms, a playground, and a really great staff. We stopped for a quick restroom tour and then took off down the trails for an impromptu hike. We saw chipmunks, squirrels, a number of birds, and some awesome sticks, leaves, and rocks. And did I mention the bog? A really shallow bog with enough water to make you think it’s a lake. Everything around it was dead, so we could walk right up to it. Many of the sticks, leaves, and rocks ended up in the bog just for fun.

I stayed on the path with the baby girl in the stroller, the boys explored the depth of the forest to find new things to throw, and my older daughter found a stick to use for “fishing” (digging dead leaves from the bog’s bottom and bringing them up so quickly that she sprayed us all with cold, murky water). It was a good morning.

It was so good, in fact, that we almost killed too much time. We were almost late for the “later” appointment that we’d just made!

Sometimes we have the chance to do things that we didn’t even know we needed to do. This morning, I had no idea that we’d be spending time at the Lowry Nature Center. But it turned out to be just what we all needed.

We loved it so much that we’re making plans to go back tomorrow for a picnic. And it will even be on purpose!

I am a Leaf on the Wind

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“I am a leaf on the wind.”

Has anyone else seen the movie Serenity? You know, the scene where Wash is navigating the Firefly through the sea of Reevers, and he’s doing amazing, and he keeps saying, “I am a leaf on the wind,” and you know exactly what he means because you’ve had some times like that too?

This has been one of those times for me. On the homefront, yes. On the (potential) job front, yes. On the marriage/supporting my husband front, yes. On the “let’s get my youngest daughter to get over hand-foot-and-mouth disease,” yes. And more too, I’m sure. I can’t keep track anymore.

I am a leaf on the wind.

I don’t know where I’m going sometimes. I can’t remember what’s on my to-do list because we keep moving it to keep the house in show-ready condition. I don’t know half the numbers that call my cell phone any more, and the days and nights are starting to blur together.

I am a leaf on the wind.

You know what I want to do? I want to get the whole family together, safe and warm, snuggled under blankets on the couch, comfortably close, and watch a Food Network Chopped marathon. For a long time. And have nobody call or text or stop by. And just enjoy each other.

You know what’s not going to happen now? Anything in the above paragraph. It’s now a bit too warm for snuggling under blankets. And we don’t have cable. And even if we did, the kids would not sit still to watch even one episode of Chopped, let alone a marathon. And nobody calling or texting or stopping by? Yeah, never gonna happen. At least not right now.

You know what is going to happen? I’ll put on my big-girl boots, dig out my to-do list, and scrutinize the things that actually need to get done. I’ll choose one or two things, make a fabulous supper, and enjoy my kids. We may go to the park. We may watch a movie. We may even do something completely different… bocce ball? golf? Oh, the possibilities!

I’m going to fall into bed tonight thankful for the opportunities God has brought to me. I’m going to run through a mental list of the people I get to know, the lives I get to be part of, and the future’s many possibilities. I get to fall asleep dreaming of all the things I have yet to do and learn, and the dreams I have yet to even think about dreaming.

I am a leaf on the wind.

Lime Tree

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It’s been a long winter here in Minnesota. There have been wonderful moments throughout, but there weren’t many surprises.

Except, of course, for the lime tree.

When we first moved into this house I became a bit excited about the prospect of growing our own produce. I spent too much on too many plants, and I didn’t prepare the earth properly to receive them. Many plants died. Some survived and are still thriving. Then there is my little lime tree.

The lime tree was doing fine in its galvanized steel bucket. Then two winters ago, I thought it wasn’t going to make it. It had a partner in crime–a lemon tree–that bit the dust. I thought the lime tree was just going to hold out long enough to give me false hope, then slowly go the way of the dodo bird.

But just when I though it was about to die, it blossomed.

The lime flowers were beautiful. They were tiny and white, so delicate, yet strong. They smelled wonderful. I took a cotton swab and pollinated the tree. I thought I was doing it right, but I’d never done it before, so I couldn’t be sure.

Then all the flowers fell off. I waited for fruit to appear.

It didn’t.

Then one day last week, my children said, “Mommy! Mommy! Come quick! You have got to see this!” Judging by their reactions, either there was a major road race happening just outside our back door or someone had recently lost a limb. I ran to see what all the commotion was about.

It was limes! The lime tree had started growing actual LIMES! There aren’t too many times that my joy matches my children’s, but this was definitely one of them. We started to dance in the kitchen for the sheer joy of limes on a small tree in a bucket in the winter.

In Minnesota, no less!

Sometimes life is like that. You think things are going to go one way, but they take a sudden turn and something completely different happens. Sometimes for the better; sometimes for the worse. But when it happens, all you can do is hang on for the ride.

Today is that kind of day for me. Yesterday was a series of surprises, and today I’m hanging on tight. I don’t know what tomorrow brings. Heck, I don’t even know what the rest of today brings! But I know who brings it, and what His intentions are for me. God’s plan is to work in and through me to show His love to His people. Sometimes He works on me to take away my bad habits. Sometimes He works in me to show me His heart. And sometimes He works through me, showing His great love to others.

I don’t know what will happen in the coming weeks, months, and years. But I know who is there. And that makes all the difference.

Stress

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Sometimes I don’t even know what to think. Today, for example, was one of those times. 

I felt weary. Not tired. Weary. Like, I’ve got so many things on my to-do list that they will never get done. Like, I can never feel productive again. Like, no matter what I do, the house is a mess, the children are hungry, and at least one of them really needs a bath. 

Today the kids did great at church, probably because my parents were there to help. Things were going really well, until my oldest daughter spilled some strawberry applesauce on my freshly laundered pants. I was not impressed. 

But then I was able to talk to some people who really inspire and encourage me. And I was doing better. 

Then I had an argument with my husband, and I had to go on a walk. When I calmed down and returned, my friend was here. She left, and Michael and I had a good talk. We ordered pizza for supper, and life was good. 

But then there was the poop. My youngest three all decided to baptize me after supper at different times with slightly different substances. The essence was the same. I was not happy. 

I know that God is with me at all times. I know that He loves me and calls me to follow Him. I am willing to follow Him into whatever situation He calls me to. But you know what I have a hard time with sometimes? 

Stress. Yes, you read right. Stress. 

It is stressful to be someone’s everything. It is even more stressful to be four people’s everything. 

It is stressful to set personal goals and expectations and never reach them.

It is stressful to know that my decisions will impact them, and perhaps their relationships with their spouses and children, for the rest of their lives. 

It is stressful to face a mountain of dirty clothing. It is even more stressful to face a mountain of clean clothing, be almost done folding it, and find one severely stained article of clothing that has contaminated everything around it. Should I throw it all in the washer, or only that piece? Turn a blind eye to it all? Exactly how stained was it, and how transferable was that kind of stain?

You see the kind of stress I’m under? 

Thankfully, I’m not alone. My husband feels stressed too, but about different things. He expresses his stress in different ways. We usually can talk each other down. And when we can’t, we know what to do.

We pray.

Today when I came back from my walk, after my friend had gone, we talked. We prayed right there on the lawn. My husband was wearing ripped jeans and a stained tee shirt, holding a hedge trimmer in one hand and an evergreen branch in the other. I was shifting my weight, unaccustomed to the feel of the grass tickling my feet. We were a praying pair.

I don’t really remember what we said. I do know that when we pray, I feel better. I know that we are in this thing called life together. I know that while we may feel stressed and overwhelmed with the journey just in front of us, we are still going forward to the place we are called. And I know that no matter what we do or say, no matter where we go, God is there. He hears our prayers. He has a better plan for my family than I could dare imagine.

Does that scare me?

To be honest, a little. But in a good way.