Why It's Good to Have Older Siblings Visit from College

They remind you it's not all about you. Case in point below.

Scenario 1

13-year-old to his mother:

"Wanna know something crazy?"

"Sure!"

Scenario 2

13-year-old to his 21-year-old sister:

"Wanna know something crazy?"

"Do I have to?" 

One Day You Turn Around and He's All Grown Up

And he does amazing things like give a concert at a national worship conference, one that in spite of what you might think, his dad had nothing to do with facilitating.

And you can't go because there are things that need doing at home, but luckily, your husband who is on the road is able to swing by for the performance.

And then after your husband drives away, that grownup kid will prepare to get on a plane and fly to another state to meet a teacher he is considering studying with for his doctoral work. He set up the visit and arranged his own travel and will get himself there and back without any help from us.

When I worry (as I shouldn't, because I have a great God), one of the things I worry about is my kids when their dad and I are gone. My husband and I have now buried all of our parents, and it is a difficult thing no matter how old you are. We are very, very close to our kids. I am thankful that they come to us for so much in the way of advice and direction in their lives. But I have worried that maybe they need us too much.

I worry less as the years go on. I know they'll be sad when their parents die, as we were when ours died. But I think they're going to be okay. And that is a blessed feeling indeed.

I blinked.

I just returned from a 9-day trip out of town with my husband. During that time---

My 20-year-old daughter ran the house, played chauffeur to her 12-year-old brother, and today picked me up at the airport.

The aforementioned 12-year-old calmly rode out a tornado warning while he was home alone and his sister was having lunch with a friend.

My 23-year-old logged another week in Schlern, Italy, playing the first of two performances he will give there, and visiting Seiser Alm and Cremona.

Who are these competent, self-sufficient people and what have they done with my babies???

Donald Trump, the Supreme Court, and Our Children

Last week the United States Supreme Court struck down a Texas law calling for more regulation of abortion providers in the Lone Star state. The regulations had been aimed at protecting the health and safety of women by "by requiring abortion clinics to meet the kinds of medical and safety standards that legitimate medical centers meet."

Also last week that same Supreme Court refused to hear a Washington state ruling forcing pro-life pharmacists to sell drugs that, by causing abortion, violate the pharmacists' religious convictions.

These two cases are perfect examples of why I remain unconvinced by the argument that conservatives who have rejected Donald Trump need to disregard all their reasons for not supporting him and do so because, if nothing else, he will at least put conservative justices on the court. In the first place, I don’t have great faith in Donald Trump to stand by his word. In the second place, the conservative cause has not fared too well with the Supreme Court of late, Republican appointees notwithstanding. Anthony Kennedy, who voted with the majority on both decisions, was appointed by Reagan. Reagan was arguably the most pro-life President we ever had. Yet here we are.

By way of reminder, here are a few more examples from recent and not-so-recent history of Republican-appointed justices not assisting the cause of conservatives:

1) Anthony Kennedy (again, a Reagan appointee) joining with the liberals on the court on gay marriage.

2) George W. Bush appointee John Roberts' repeated bailing out of Obamacare.

3) The votes of Nixon appointees Blackmun, Burger and Powell with the pro-choice side of the Roe v. Wade decision.

4) George H. W. Bush appointee David Souter's turning out to be one of the best friends the causes of Planned Parenthod, the ACLU, and eminent domain ever had.

Time and time again this election season I have been told by some of my fellow conservatives that we are not electing a pastor but a President and that it is necessary for me to compromise my principles because Supreme Court. The events of recent days have only strengthened my conviction that doing so would be a devil’s bargain, a selling of my soul that would gain little in return.

As a parent trying to teach my child right from wrong, what has become clear to me over the last almost 25 years is that human behavior is much more influenced by example than it is by external rules. The old poem "Children Learn What They Live" got it right. Parents can talk unceasingly about telling the truth. If they are repeatedly dishonest in their own personal and professional dealings, that is what a child will learn. If they readily toss their convictions for reasons of pragmatism, children will learn that, too.

That doesn't mean we shouldn't have rules or teach principles of right and wrong. Of course we should. But rules don't change hearts. And in the heart/mind battle over decisions of conscience, it is usually the heart that wins. Why do you think we term something that has been truly learned as being "taken to heart" or "learned by heart"? The heart is where the rubber of our principles meets the road of our life--where gut checks happen and all that we believe is put to the test.

I am not saying that conservatives should give up. To the contrary, we need to work harder than ever before. But we deceive ourselves if we think the battle is ultimately going to be won in the public arena. The Supreme Court has demonstrated that it cannot be counted on to do its job. Conservatives’ best hope, then, is our children, for theirs are the minds and hearts we have the greatest capacity to change. We cannot hope to do so by voting for someone whose life and behavior make a mockery of everything we have tried to teach them.

God Knew Your Name

"God Knew Your Name" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Change

A few days ago I wrote this. It is about the blessings that come as we go from one season of life to another. I meant every word. 

But sometimes . . . sometimes . . .

I wish I could go back and do it all again.

Me and my son in his new apartment

   

That moment . . .

. . . when you scoot over in church to create a little more personal space, and your 11-year-old son immediately scoots over just enough to fill it in. ♥

A Week of Goodbyes

My son is about to graduate from college. I was talking to him a few days ago and it hit me that as we prepare to have him come home for the summer and prepare for the next phase of his life (grad school!), he is in the process of leaving an entire world behind. For four years now he has spent the majority of his days in a different city in a different state. He has built a whole life there, going to classes, making friends, working, and attending church. He will spend this week saying goodbye to all of it.

So often as parents we look at our kids as extensions or reflections of ourselves. When they are little, we experience everything with them. As they grow, they do more and more on their own. But while they are still living at home we at least get daily reports and see them frequently enough to keep pretty close tabs on the landscape of their lives.

But then they move away. And sometimes days pass when we don't directly communicate with them. They handle more and more on their own. They experience things, small and large, that we will never even know about. That is as it should be, and is something I knew intellectually but was reminded of in a more profound way as my son shared with me his plans for his last week at school. I was focused on the beginnings: the beginning of summer, the beginning of his graduate school career, the beginning of the rest of his life. But before all those beginnings, there is an ending.

God bless your week of goodbyes, Trevor. And thank you, city of Lincoln and University of Nebraska, for being such a good place for my young adult to build his first adult life.

Of Mommies and Babies and Moments

Last week I did some piano accompanying for a local school. On Tuesday I went to the school for several hours in the morning. At one point, between rehearsals, the choir director went to her office and returned excitedly, cell phone in hand. "I just got a text from the babysitter! My baby just rolled over for the first time!" She was thrilled, and if she felt any sadness at missing this milestone, she didn't show it.

On Saturday I drove almost two hours to meet the same director and her choirs at a choral festival in a different city. I left at 5:45 in the morning and returned five hours later. The choir director had told me at our Tuesday rehearsal that the school buses would be leaving at 5:15 a.m. and not returning until 9:00 or 10:00 p.m. since after the festival the students would be spending the day at a nearby amusement park. That mommy who missed her baby rolling over on Tuesday spent all of Saturday, her supposed "day off," apart from her baby.

When I had my first child I was teaching high school English. I would usually leave for school at 7:00 a.m. so as to allow myself sufficient time to drive to work (a 30-minute drive) and prepare for the day before students came. Leaving as soon as I was allowed to do so at the end of the day, I would get home at about 4:15. I am thankful that after my baby was born he did not have to spend time in day care or with paid babysitters, as my husband's schedule at the time allowed him to care for the baby several days per week and my mom watched him the other days. That first day I drove away at 7:00 a.m. after six weeks' maternity leave, knowing I would not return for over nine hours, I could hardly drive for the tears. But at least I got to come home after school, and I got my weekends off (albeit with plenty of grading brought home). I can't imagine having to go back to school for evening or weekend events (common for public school music teachers). By God's grace this situation lasted only about six months, as the summer after my first child was born my freelance musician husband received a full-time job offer, whereupon we decided that I would no longer work full-time. From then on I have been a full-time stay-at-home mom/part-time wage-earner. Having experienced what it was like to leave my baby for over 40 hours per week, I have never looked back nor regretted that decision.

To you mommies who are staying home with babies: may God strengthen you for these very hard days, and may He grant many moments to remind you why it's all worth it.

To you mommies who are spending days away from your babies, missing too many moments but doing the best you can with the situation you have been given: may God grant excellent caregivers to watch over your babies while you're away, and may He minimize the time you have to spend apart from your children. As much as possible, babies should be with their mommies. The moments are too quickly gone.

The Family that Eats Together

Someone shared this article on Facebook yesterday. It's about the importance of having supper together as a family--sitting around the table at a designated time, eating together, and talking. Especially talking. I couldn't agree more.

I didn't grow up with this experience. I am the youngest of my siblings, and there are seven years between me and the next-youngest. I have a few memories of people being around at mealtimes, but I have more memories of being the only child in the house, and more often than not, eating supper on a TV tray while watching television in the living room. A few times a year one of my aunts would visit, and I cherished those times because when Aunt Lou came we ate around the table. Not only that, Aunt Lou made sure we prayed before we ate.

My husband and I have always had supper together, first without kids, then with kids. I don't remember our making a conscious decision to do so. It's just something we did. Then some years ago one of our pastors taught us how to do an even better job of making mealtime a family event. I wrote about that in a past blog post, but here's a summary:

1) The meal is to begin and end with prayer. Prayer is led by the Table Master (see #2) unless the Table Master assigns someone else to do so.

2) Father is the Table Master. If Father is not present, Mother is the Table Master. If the Table Master desires, he or she can designate someone else as Table Master for the meal.

3) Once the meal has begun, no one leaves the table without requesting and receiving permission from the Table Master.

4) The Table Master designates one of those dining to be the Server. The Server has permission to come and go from the table as needed to meet the needs of those dining.

5) No one leaves the table until all have eaten, the closing prayer has been said, and the Table Master has dismissed the table.

Over the years we have become a little more relaxed with the table rules, especially with the college kids. We don't explicitly appoint a Server. We don't require the adult children to ask permission to get up from the table if they need to get something during the meal. But the general principles remain: the meal begins and ends with prayer. No one leaves the table until the closing prayer is said. Our kids know this and respect it, and even our adult children ask to be excused if they need to leave the table early. (There have been a few times when they were younger that we were eating at someone else's house and our kids kept sitting, and sitting, and sitting, until I realized they were waiting for the closing prayer and dismissal.)

Also over the years, my husband has added another element to our meals: sharing time. There are some meals that are more hurried, so we don't always have sharing time, but we often do. Before the closing prayer, Dad goes around the table asking each person in turn: "Do you have anything to share?" Of course, there has been sharing up to that point. But maybe someone has something to share that he didn't get the opportunity to share earlier. This is his chance to do so while everyone is still present and listening.

There are times now when the college kids are away and Dad's schedule doesn't allow him to come home for supper that it's just me, Evan, and Grandma. Sometimes Evan and I eat at different times from Grandma, and especially when that happens we tend not to take as much time with the meal. I guess that's okay, since Evan and I still spend the majority of every day together, so there is plenty of time for sharing. We still always begin and end with prayer. But I need to make sure that as he grows up, we continue to cherish the family mealtime as we always have. I think the article is spot on. There are immeasurable benefits, not only to the family, but to the individuals in it, in making mealtime a focus of the family's life together. If it is not something you are doing in your own family, it's not too late to start. 

Last Lasts

Yesterday on Facebook I saw this.

It reminded me of a blog post I wrote a few years ago along the same lines. As parents we experience countless "lasts" with our children. Sometimes we know going in that it's the last time; sometimes we don't. Sometimes the "last" is a momentous event (graduation, confirmation); other times it's trivial (tying shoes or applying a bandage). Sometimes, while it's the last time for one child, we know there are others waiting in the wings to do the same thing. But if we're on our last child, there are all sorts of lasts that are specific not only to him but that are the last time we'll do that thing with any of our children, ever.

Yesterday something that came up in a conversation with Evan, my 10-year-old, prompted me to start reciting from the book One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish by Dr. Seuss. How many times I have read that book over the years, starting with Trevor (now 22), then with Caitlin (now 19), and finally with Evan. It has to have been hundreds! No wonder I can still recite large portions of it from memory. Sometimes when I do I can hear in my head the exact way it sounded on my children's lips. So it was a sweet and serendipitous surprise last night when Evan asked not only if we could read the book at bedtime, but if he could read it to me. (I am really glad my 10-year-old still likes Dr. Seuss.) We sat together, and he read, and we laughed, and I remembered. . . . and wondered whether this was another last last.

I didn't need insomnia to write this one.

My second article for The Federalist:

"To Mama, From Little Thing"

Can Anything Good Come of Insomnia?

Apparently so. Two nights ago I was having one of those nights when my brain just refuses to turn off. I have learned that if I can't get to sleep in half an hour it's not going to happen for a while and I might as well get up. This time instead of turning on Nick at Nite and watching Friends (my go-to non-medicinal remedy)  I decided to write. The next morning I sent what I had written to one of my favorite online magazines. Imagine my surprise when several hours later I got an acceptance letter. Woot. My article went up on the site today (talk about fast turnaround!), so here it is in case you missed it and would like to read it.

Why I Want to Live Long and Burden My Children

Teaching History to the HSC

When you're rearing an HSC (highly sensitive child), it can sometimes be hard to judge the extent to which you should shield him from things you know will upset him. On the one hand, you want to protect him from undue stress. If he doesn't like Halloween decorations, what is there to be gained by making him go places where he's going to encounter them? At the same time, you don't want to coddle him. The older he gets, the more he's going to find himself in situations where he has to handle things on his own, without Mom or Dad going ahead to make sure it's safe. So as a parent, you look for opportunities to "gently" toughen him up (assuming that's not a total oxymoron).

Yesterday in Evan's history book* we read about the Lewis and Clark expedition. The author recounted how, when the explorers ran out of food, they were forced to kill one of the horses for meat. As I heard the words coming out of my mouth, I looked at Evan. So far, so good. He was frowning, but handling it. But then we read the next paragraph:

"The horsemeat kept them from starving. But if they killed too many horses, they wouldn't be able to move fast enough to survive. So they ate some of the hunting dogs as well. . . . "

Uh-oh. There was more about how Clark disliked the dog meat while Lewis liked it, but we didn't get that far. Instead we stopped reading and I explained to my crying son that as terrible as it sounds to us as dog lovers, the humans had to come first. Not only is a human's life more valuable than an animal's, but if the humans had died of starvation, the rest of the animals would have perished as well because there would have been no one to take care of them. Evan absorbed all of this while lying on the floor trying to comfort our own dog, who he was certain was traumatized by the history lesson.

Eventually, with the passage in question behind us and the tears stemmed, we read on. But moments later, I saw this one coming: "In all that time, only one of the party had died--from appendicitis."

Sigh. Evan has long had a fear of getting appendicitis. Did his mom do an on-the-fly edit? What do you think?

*The Story of the World, Vol. 3, Susan Wise Bauer

The Importance of Audience

Example 1 

"I don't want to learn another language. Why do I have to study Latin? No one speaks Latin."

Example 2

"Caitlin, guess what? Mom's teaching me Latin!"

Little Pitchers

You try to protect them. You think you have done so. And then you discover that no matter how hard you try, you can't completely shield them from the difficult truths of life.

A few days ago my 10-year-old and I watched an episode of Spongebob Squarepants. In it, Spongebob gets fired from his job at the Krusty Krab because his boss, Mr. Krabs, is trying to cut costs. Spongebob is fired rather than his coworker Squidward because Squidward has seniority. The rest of the episode depicts Spongebob trying various other restaurant jobs (with such success that the other owners end up fighting over and kidnapping him from one another) but ultimately getting hired back at the Krusty Krab because his presence there is so missed.

Some hours after we had watched this episode, Evan asked me, "Mom, what is seniority?" I told him, and after a pause he asked, "Does Dad have seniority?"

There was a world of meaning in that sentence. After my husband was let go from his job a few years ago, we tried our best to shield Evan from the specifics of the situation. It wasn't just a matter of his dad getting fired; it was a matter of it being done by people Evan knew and trusted. We didn't want him to be hurt by that knowledge so were careful not to speak of it around him and to explain the changes in his life in the vaguest terms possible. But ultimately, kids know when something isn't right. They know when their parents are sad. They know when their family is struggling.

I couldn't bear to tell him that no, actually, right now Dad doesn't have seniority. He's only been in his current position, and we have only been in our current church, for a year. So I fumbled for an answer, doing my best to reassure him that things are good here and that his Dad is not in any danger of getting fired the way Spongebob was. But on the other hand I can't really know that for sure, can I? We can't ever be sure what tomorrow will bring. As I write this I think it would have been better for me to tell him the truth: that even though his dad doesn't have seniority in the world, in the person and work of Jesus he has all the seniority he needs, because Jesus invites him (as He invites all of us) to sit at the head of the table, partaking of the finest food and drink even though we have not earned nor deserved it. In Jesus we need not worry about finding our place in the world, because that place has already been determined and set for us, and it is one from which there is no threat of demotion.

Job security? No, Evan, we don't really have that. Not any more than the next guy. But what we do have is the certainty of an eternal place in the Lord's kingdom, a place He created for us two thousand years ago on the cross and one from which He promises we will never be dismissed.

Big

On Friday I took my daughter to college. On Sunday I left her there.

If you've ever seen the movie Big you'll remember the last scene. In it, the female lead, Susan, takes Josh, the little-boy-turned-big, back home to his real life. As Adult Josh trudges through the autumn leaves towards his house, Susan looks briefly away. When she turns back for a last look, Adult Josh has become Young Josh. He smiles and waves, then turns and runs home, calling for his family.

This weekend I experienced something like that, only in reverse. On Sunday after we went to church I took my daughter back to her dorm. We had to rush our goodbye, as it was already 11:30 and she had a required event to go to at noon. We had gotten some fast food, and she had hurriedly eaten in the car, but I had not eaten yet, so after we hugged goodbye I sat in the car a while longer, trying to stem the tears to the point I could take a few bites of my bean burrito. I watched my daughter half-walk, half-run down the sidewalk toward her dorm, but instead of seeing a college student I saw a kindergartener. Panic quickly ensued. What in the world was I doing, leaving a 5-year-old to fend for herself in college? This was all wrong! But a few minutes later it wasn't a 5-year-old who re-emerged from the dorm. It was a young woman. She briefly stopped to study her map, and I resisted the urge to jump out of the car, run down the sidewalk, and help her figure out where to go. I knew she needed to do this on her own, and more important, I knew she would be able to do this on her own.

This is the last look I had at my daughter on Sunday: my little-girl-turned-big, on her way to the rest of her life.

This One's for the Girls

I invite you to read this.

And then, if you have a fourteen-year-old girl in your life (or a 10, 12, or 40-year-old one, for that matter), share it with her.

Breaking the Cycle

I came across this article on The Art of Manliness blog and instantly identified with it (I think it applies equally to men and women). The author is concerned with the propensity for certain destructive attitudes and behaviors to get passed from one generation to the next and the difficulty of breaking out of such a cycle. An individual who succeeds in charting a different path for his children than the one he grew up with is called a "transitional" figure.

My husband and I have in the past talked about how we both seem to be transitional figures in our families (although we didn't use that terminology). Although we were both baptized as infants, neither one of us was taken to church in childhood. That changed for both of us in adolescence, and for both of us it was the Holy Spirit working through other people--as well as through our own baptisms--that made it happen. In my husband's case, his family moved when he was entering middle school, and the local Lutheran (LCMS) church sent a welcome delegation to his house along with an invitation to church. Over time only Phillip continued to attend, and he eventually decided on his own to take catechism instruction and be confirmed (as a high school student, he was the oldest Confirmand in his class). My story is similar in that when I was about the same age my family also moved, but in my case it was a Roman Catholic friend who invited me to her church. I had long wanted to go to church and asked my mom if we could accept the invitation. She said yes, and ultimately we were both confirmed. I became Lutheran upon marriage, and my husband and I are now passing on to our children a confession of faith that neither of us was taught as a child. We pray, and believe, that they will pass it on to their children.

Moving from living a life apart from the church to living one that revolves around the church is the primary difference between the way my husband and I were brought up and the way we are bringing up our children, and that is completely by the grace of God. But having Christ as the center of our marriage and our family has informed all the other choices we have made over the years, leading us to apply many of the recommendations mentioned in the article. We both knew what kind of life we wanted and we went about it intentionally. I don't want to seem ungrateful for the things our parents gave us. They had their own baggage, and they did the best they could with the hand they were dealt. The older I get, the more I understand how hard it is, under the best of circumstances, to be a good parent. I wanted to share the article above and a bit of my own story to encourage anyone reading who is in the process of exorcising the demons of the past to persevere in doing so. You are fighting the good fight, and God will not forsake you as you seek to change the course of history in your family.

Where did I go wrong?

"Mom, make sure you get ice cream at the store. But not Blue Bell because I don't like Blue Bell."

I know. I don't get it either. You do everything right as a parent, and something like this happens. But hey, he's only 10. That gives me eight years to turn this thing around.