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children

Universal Children’s Day – A Better Future for Every Child

by Lisa DeRosa November 20, 2021

written by Lisa DeRosa

Universal Children’s Day is to bring awareness for all children worldwide to have a right to education in a safe and comfortable environment.

When I think of children and how one can honor them, I am reminded of something someone told me when my first child was born. It was about respect and how even a baby deserves respect. You may react, but that doesn’t even matter to the baby. May I give you an example? Most of the first few weeks of a baby’s life are spent eating and sleeping. To show a baby respect one should respect the baby’s sleeping and feeding schedule even if it may be a bit different than you would choose. One thing I was taught and appreciated was to let a baby sleep even when there were visitors, even if the visitors wanted to hold the baby. If they wanted to see the child, let them observe them sleeping if they were sleeping. Yes, preparing a child for a more healthy life begins in the home environment. And then when the child moves outside the home environment there should also be that space where they can feel safe whether that is in the school and/or public setting. Jesus encouraged the people when they were around Him to allow the children to be a part of the gathering as well. And when the children wanted to go and sit with Him or stand beside Him He welcomed the opportunity to include them. Luke’s gospel records Jesus’ response in one situation:

Luke 18:15-17

People brought babies to Jesus, hoping he might touch them. When the disciples saw it, they shooed them off. Jesus called them back. “Let these children alone. Don’t get between them and me. These children are the kingdom’s pride and joy. Mark this: Unless you accept God’s kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you’ll never get in.”

junef1

Yes, Jesus invited the children to be included in His surroundings. Another place where it talks about the children is in the march into Jerusalem at the Passover time just before Jesus’ crucifixion. It tells us that the children were singing and waving palm branches.

As I did some research on the meaning and purpose of this day, I found that we are encouraged to spend positive time with our children and especially to spend time in the outdoors and in nature. It is a time to encourage appreciation for God’s wonderful gifts in nature and even help in understanding how important many elements of nature are to our lives. It can be an opportunity to possibly even plant some plants and/or garden; or maybe harvest some fruits, go fishing or just take a nature exploration/education hike.

It could be a time for a family/church/school picnic or potluck with a focus on the children. There could be crafts, movies, storytime, all with the opportunity of building wholesome identity and relationships. Make it a time that is all about the children being appreciated and respected as individuals. Maybe an appropriate ending would be a time of blessing for each child present which could be done in several ways verbally, a specially chosen gift (can even be homemade), a prayer, etc.

May I encourage us to embrace the children around us today. The children in our family, the children in our neighborhood, the children in our churches, the children in our schools, the children we know as well as the children we do not know, the children in our own country as well as the children in all the other countries of the world….. Prayer is another way that we can make a difference whether it is praying for someone we know or someone we may not know except by name or even unnamed.

The future is a gift – it is a gift that has been given to you and to me by those who have gone before us. It is now a gift for you and I to hold carefully and pass on to the children coming after us. May it be a gift well cared for by us so that our children will also learn to care for it well and have the opportunity to also pass it on to the generations to come.

TO EMBRACE AND BUILD THE WONDER OF A CHILD

God, you gifted the world with children

Children filled with wonder, curiosity, sensitivity, and gifts,

You placed them in our care to love, to teach and to lead,

To nurture, to protect and do our best to meet their needs.

God, you desire that all children worldwide be cared for and loved,

Children of different colors, with different languages, and different cultures,

Different understandings of who You are, yet desiring a relationship with You,

So that they may find purpose and security in their lives as they grow.

God, sometimes as adults we forget what it was like to be a child,

We tend to get so focused on the future of the child/children

We neglect the present need(s) and desires,

And miss the opportunities You give us to prepare them for their place in the world.

Today as I listen to their questions and observations

So innocently spoken to anyone, everyone or to no one in particular

May I too be able to see the world around me with the eyes of a child,

Let me behold with wonder the hopping of a frog, the sniff of a puppy,

The purr of a kitten, the sweet smell of a rose, the freshness of cold water,

The delight of a puddle to step in, the ouch of a sharp thorn,

Yet in it all realize that it is for a moment and then it is on to another moment.

God, what a wonderful creation you blessed the world with–children so innocent and pure; entrusting them into the care of adults for protection and nurture until they are grown. May we be found faithful in caring for them while we truly see the gift they are to us every day, even in the troublesome spots. Thank you, God, for the wonderful gift of children. Amen.

‘Tis the season to celebrate the Reason–the Light of the World born in a humble manger. Explore Advent and Christmas alongside Christine Sine and others in one of our Advent devotionals, bundled with beautiful Prayer Cards! Waiting for the Light: An Advent Journal + Prayer Cards is more than a devotional; it is a complete guide to the Advent and Christmas season, providing liturgies, weekly activities, and daily reflections to equip and nourish us all through the season. Lean Towards the Light This Advent & Christmas is our newest resource, perfect for the times we are living in, and comes in several bundles, including downloadable forms and bundles that include a journal to enrich your quiet time. A Journey Toward Home: Soul Travel from Advent to Lent + Prayer Cards approaches the rich seasons of Advent to Lent playfully, yet with yearning and determination, providing daily reflections from many theological and cultural perspectives, shared family activities, and recipes that will enrich the season for all seekers. All these Advent resources and more can be found in our shop.

November 20, 2021 0 comment

Reading Life Differently

Jesus Loves the Children

by Hilary Horn June 26, 2019

written by Hilary Horn

A Reading Life Differently post by Barbie Perks —

We were in church on Sunday. As it only meets the first and third Sundays of the month, it was the 3rd time I had been. Each time, it seems there are different people but I am slowly getting to know faces. I sat behind a family with five children, four of whom went out to the Sunday school class and one stayed behind with his mom. I became aware that this child had some kind of disability which was not immediately apparent. I watched his mother taking care of him, quieting him and keeping him calm while the rest of the service continued.

It dawned on me that when we have children, we have dreams and aspirations for their future. Might they grow up to be the one who discovers a cure for some disease that plagues mankind? Might they be a president one day? Might they become great teachers, preachers or evangelists? Might they serve the Lord faithfully in their home and church? Might they…..you fill in your own dreams☺

I can’t begin to imagine how some parents cope with re-orienting their thinking when they discover their beloved child has some form of impairment or disability, mental or physical. I know a couple who have devoted their lives to looking after a severely disabled son who was given 12 years at most to live, but who passed away last year aged 57. His father said he considered it his privilege to minister to his son all those years. Many looking on from outside the situation would say, and some did say, “Why not take him to an institution that is more equipped to handle him?” and the father would reply, “God has given him to us, and we will do our best to look after him. No one knows him or loves him like we do!”

There are some stories recorded in the Gospels where desperate parents came to Jesus on behalf of their children, begging for healing and Jesus had compassion on them, healing the children. I know that not all our prayers for the healing of our children are answered in the way we desire, but maybe what is happening is that healing comes in our own inner selves, in our heart attitudes, in the way we accept the different path our lives go from this point on, in the way we begin to lean on Jesus for comfort and guidance during the difficult days.

In Matthew 19:13-15 we are told that little children were brought to Jesus – it doesn’t say who brought them, but we can assume that many of the mothers would have to bring their children with them if they wanted to hear what Jesus was saying, and that it was the mothers who came forward to ask Jesus to lay hands on their children and to pray for them. The disciples rebuked them, but Jesus in turn rebukes the disciples and says “Let the little children come to me…” In our home church, we used these verses whenever we held an infant baptism service, saying that the children were welcome and that the congregation promised to maintain a safe place for the children to grown up in the love and knowledge of the Lord.

But frequently, the reality is that congregants don’t want to be disturbed by children and often, especially the older generation, send “looks” to wherever the disturbance is coming from. Mothers feel unaccepted and often choose to opt out of going to church so that their child doesn’t disturb others. I think Jesus’s words are healing balm to these mothers – let the children come to me! I think Jesus was saying in a roundabout way, “Let the mothers come to me with their children – do not hinder them!” I imagine that as Jesus laid hands on those children, he might have touched the mother’s arm, and included her in the prayers he prayed for her child. Can we not, when we see a mother or father struggling with their child, approach with a heart of compassion, to bless and pray with and over them?

Jesus, you loved little children

You said the kingdom of heaven belongs to them

Teach us to love all children in our communities with your love

Teach us to love the mothers and fathers, the grannies and grandpas

Who struggle with what others think are imperfect children

Give us hearts of compassion, willing to learn from them

For they serve you with an obedience we do not comprehend

June 26, 2019 1 comment

freerangefriday Joy Kingdom of God practice Rhythms of life shalom spiritual practices

Freerange Friday: The Gift of Wonder

by Lilly Lewin August 11, 2017

written by Lilly Lewin

by Lilly Lewin

As we consider the Shalom of God this month, one of the first things that came to mind, after savor, was the gift of WONDER!

Jesus says: “Let the little children come unto me.” And he places a child in the midst of his followers and says that the Kingdom belongs to the children. It is easy for children, they still have the gift of WONDER. Jesus also says that we need “ears to hear and eyes to see.” “Let he/she who has ears let them hear…”

I love Eugene Peterson’s version in The Message Bible…

“But you have God-blessed eyes—eyes that see! And God-blessed ears—ears that hear!”

I believe that our world needs to know, needs to experience the Wonder again in order to experience the shalom of God.

When I was in college I had a date with a guy who took me out for coffee and one of his first “get to know you questions was “ when you were a kid, did you color inside the lines, or outside the lines?” My answer was “I created my own coloring book!”

I didn’t know anything about the Ennegram back then, but I am a “7,” and this totally fits. Sevens are known to bring pixie dust wherever we go, and we are always on the look out for an adventure.

The thirteen grandchildren on my side of the family now expect me to bring my Mary Poppins bag filled with everything from crayons and stickers to sharpies, and post-It notes and maybe even bubbles, and always snacks. I don’t ever want to be bored or want anyone else to be bored either! Often my husband says that I’m really just five-years-old because I get really excited about a vista or buying balloons, and giving them away to people just for fun. My favorite part of the art museum is the part that is for kids and hands on learning. I am wired to see the fun and wonder in life. I know not everyone is wired like I am. And I know that there is a lot of suffering and conflict in our world and that it is often hard to see the wonder around us or find the joy in the hardness of life. Too often we miss the wonder because we get blinded by fear, anxiety, and too much conflict on social media.

Most people have to turn things off to get to WONDER.

If you are a production driven, achiever kind of person, you are checking your list off each day and typically taking time for WONDER is not on the list.

WONDER gets pushed out of life.

So you will need a change of venue.

And you might need to find some friends who come by WONDER naturally and start hanging out with them.

What are you interested in that brings you joy?

How did you experience the gift of WONDER as a kid?

Find the things that attract your less grown up self. Maybe it’s art, maybe it’s motorcycles, or design, or roller coasters, or backpacking, or trampolines, or dogs! Animals help us wonder because they aren’t sarcastic. Especially puppies! Go to the Humane Shelter and love on the dogs or play with the cats.

Volunteer to babysit a friend’s kids and see what they are thinking about and playing with.

Now that my kids are grown, I find friends with younger kids to go to movies with because I love animation but I don’t want to go alone.

And that brings us to laughter! We all need to laugh more!

WONDER will bring you to joy and laughter and sometimes tears.

Rediscover what makes you laugh.

Watch a great movie. One of my favorite movies that captures WONDER is “Finding Neverland” with Jonny Depp.

In this movie from 2004, Depp plays J. M. Barrie the author of “Peter Pan.” Barrie is a playwright who has had a couple of flops. He is looking for inspiration and one day while he is journaling in the park, Barrie meets the Davies family of three boys. The Davies children are still recovering from the loss of their father. Their mother, played by Kate Winslet, needs all the help she can get to keep her household going. Barrie already has a childlike wonder for the world but it is through his interaction with the boys that this wonder blooms and grows into the magnificent story of Peter Pan.

The story I tell in my curating worship workshops involves the opening night of Peter Pan. Barrie has asked that about 20 seats be left open, scattered throughout the theater. The curtain is ready to go up and the director/producer is ready to sell these empty seats. Just at the last moment, a line of small children walk up to the theater. They are orphans Barrie has invited to “seed” the audience. They know that dogs, and fairies and pirates are funny. These kids know when to laugh. And they haven’t lost their gift of WONDER! So their laughter helps the finely dressed, upper crusted London theater goers experience the joy and wonder of the play. They laugh too! They reconnect with WONDER!

Lord give me ears to hear

And the peace to actually listen.

Give me eyes to see

And the patience to actually pay attention!

Lord, give me ears to hear

And the ability to be still and hear you in the silence.

Give me new eyes to see the wonder all around me!

Give me new ears to hear the laughter and music, and experience your joy

rather than the static and the noise.

Give me child like wonder to see that ordinary things have extraordinary beauty.

Thank you for God-blessed eyes—eyes that see!

And God-blessed ears—ears that hear!

Thank you for the gift of WONDER.

Help me to experience this so I can share it with others. AMEN

find out more ways to bring child like wonder into worship at freerangeworship.com

August 11, 2017 0 comment

Lent 2017 Meditation Monday

Meditation Monday – Unleash Your Inner Child

by Christine Sine February 20, 2017

written by Christine Sine

by Christine Sine.

As many of you know I am working on a new book on creative spirituality. I have recruited a group of friends to walk with me through this process and add their own creative energy to the project. Last week I sent some beginning ideas to these friends and received this wonderful response from Kim Balke who is an expressive arts therapist in Canada.

From my point of view as one who works with children most of the time, I wanted to add a suggested exercise to help free your soul based on Jesus’ words, “Unless we become as children we cannot enter the kingdom of God “(the most creative dimension I know of!).

Here it is: take some time to enjoy a few picture books for children, some from your earliest childhood memories, some contemporary. They may help foster a heart posture of openness, curiosity and wonder. Here are a few I recommend and that I have in my tool box with children (and really enjoy myself), and I have these so I can lend them to you when you come up this way, too. You could probably get most of them in the public library, I think:

Visiting Feelings, by Lauren Rubenstein

I Dreamt, A book about Hope, by Gabriela Olmos

Maybe Something Beautiful: How Art Transformed A neighborhood, by F. Isabel Campoy

The Night Gardener, by The Fan Brothers

Daniel Finds a Poem, by Micha Archer

What Do you do with an Idea? by Kobi Yamada

Always Remember, by Cece Meng (about grief,loss)

After reading a story, respond with a doodle, drawing, poem or even keep a few rhythm instruments handy and discover the sounds that hold something that stood out for you in the story…a page of illustration you are drawn to, perhaps.

Her idea really resonated with me as I prepare for Lent. While we were in Australia I purchased a very special book from my childhood called The Magic Pudding. It was created almost 100 years ago by Norman Lindsay an amazingly creative artist, sculptor and writer. It has wonderful illustrations in it, but to be honest I hardly looked at them. After all I am no longer a child. My adult self valued the book rather than the story.

Kim’s suggestion gave me permission to unleash my inner child, take out the book and enjoy the innovative depiction of Australian animals. Their creation stirred the imaginations of many Australian kids and certainly stirred mine again as I reflected on them.

A couple of days ago I was given another wonderfully enriching children’s book The Harmony Tree by Randy Woodley. This time I needed no prompting to explore and reflect on the beautiful illustrations and story. My inner child responded immediately stirring new places of creativity and imagination within my soul.

Imagination and creativity is at the heart of who God is and who God has created us to be. Returning to that imaginative framework of childhood is one important way to tap into it. So maybe this Lent what we need to let go of is the constrictive and unimaginative views of adulthood and return to the creativity of childhood.

A couple of years ago I wrote several posts about needing to rediscover the creativity of childhood that I thought you might want to revisit as you think about this: Get Creative and Play Games for Lent and 5 Ways to Foster Creativity in Kids During Lent.

What is Your Response?

When was the last time you looked through a children’s book, not to read it to a child but for your own enjoyment? When was the last time you allowed your inner child to emerge?

Grab a children’s book – your child’s, your grandchild’s or one you still have that you treasure from your own childhood. Look at the illustrations. What thoughts are stirred? What images come to mind? What creativity does it ignite within you? Go through the exercise Kim suggests and respond with a doodle, drawing, poem or even keep a few rhythm instruments handy and discover the sounds that hold something that stood out for you in the story.

February 20, 2017 2 comments

Listening

Listening to My Daughters Pray

by Christine Sine June 29, 2016

written by Christine Sine

by Gil George

Taken by Gil George

In a recent blog post (Dear God Time) I shared our family bedtime ritual. The key pieces of our bedtime prayers are in asking my kids who they want to thank God for, who they want to pray for, and what part of the beautiful creation they are thankful for or want to pray for. This has become a time of holy listening for me as I get to hear my daughters’ perspective on what is important, who really needs prayer, and to hear their words of faith and wonder.

One key practice in listening well to their faith is not to put words in their mouths, but to allow them to direct these pieces of prayer. By asking them to initiate I get to hear who the really special people are. My girls have a very short list of people who they are especially thankful to God for, and I have not yet made their list. What I have found is that they list off the people who have gone out of their way to build connection, not the default family members, but the people from outside who have especially invested time and love into them. I have learned through listening to my girls who the treasures are in their lives, the surrogate aunts and grandparents and surrogate grandparents who they know love them. I have come to treasure these friends above and beyond because they love above and beyond.

My girls’ “pray for” list is equally illuminating to me. I get to hear about the bullies and the bullied, the pieces of hurt that I miss, but my kids see. I hear them pray for friends that have moved away, old church folks from my previous call, and I get this incredible window into the compassionate heart of my children. By listening to their compassion I have learned who I might have missed, and how often I miss. I also get to hear them wrestle with things they have heard about that they don’t quite grasp and are confused about in others and by listening to their confusion I can begin to wrestle with my own. Given free rein to bring anything or anyone to God, my girls do, and I have learned a lot about the childlike faith of lament and bringing “owies” to be kissed by the presence of God.

The last piece of listening really taps into childlike wonder at things we adults stopped noticing a long time ago. During our prayers for the beautiful world there was a six month period of time in which one of my girls was thankful for the clouds that give us rain, snow, sleet, hail, and shade from the sun. For how the clouds turn pretty colors and make fun shapes. Six months of wonder at something I occasionally swear at. What a perspective shift it is to be given the gift of listening to wonder and awe. Over time there were thanks for dogs, mountains, waterfalls, dogs, forests, sheesh dad take a hint dogs, beaches, and any body of water larger than 3 inches. We tapped into that wonder when at her first time to the ocean our youngest looked out with wide eyes and shouted “Puddle!” and prayed for that huge “puddle” for weeks.

I have found that listening to the prayers of my children has opened my eyes to a joyous wonder in being a child in God’s loving arms. Sometimes I even get to model that love, but most awesomely, I get to rest in that love as I listen to the prayers of my children.

Today’s post is part of our series on listening.

June 29, 2016 0 comment

spiritual practices

Moments of Observation by Derek Olsen

by Christine Sine October 1, 2015

written by Christine Sine

It felt weird—to just sit there while being stared at…

When everything around my house is going According To Plan, I rise early before my wife and two daughters are up and start off the day by praying Morning Prayer on my Kindle from the St Bede’s Breviary along with a hot cup of coffee. After that comes twenty minutes of seated meditation. One recent Monday, I was trying to get things back on track. I confess that I hit the snooze button on my alarm several times—that got me out of bed late—but I got my coffee, did my prayer, and sat down for meditation.

About halfway through, sitting with eyes closed in the darkened family room, I realized I was about to reap the consequences of my alarm-snoozing sloth: I heard the distinctive sound of my 9-year old daughter’s tread from the upper level. Sure enough, the footsteps headed down the stairs, entered the room where I sat, and stopped. Then, I felt that sensation of being watched. I knew exactly what had happened; she had seated herself on the gold chair and was just watching and waiting.

I focused on counting my breaths.

The feeling remained.

After a couple of minutes, I finally said, “What is it, hon?” It was a relatively simple question about breakfast, she dealt with it, I finished sitting, then jumped into the morning struggle of getting two tween girls to school on time.

I was reminded of this episode while reading a blog post about children and faith. A lot of ink, digital and actual, gets spilled about what to do with children in church. For my part, I’m all for them. Have them in the same regular service as everyone else, and get them involved with reading, ushering, and serving at the altar just as soon their development allows. But as important as the place of children in worship is, it is only one piece of teaching children about faith.

In our house we try to be intentional about actively forming our girls’ faith. We do mealtime prayers. We do bedtime prayers. We have discussions in the car on the way to ballet and swimming about the school day or current events or pop music where faith and our beliefs inevitably make an appearance. I’m sure there are ways that we could do these things more frequently and better and with more wisdom, but—hey—we have a hard enough time just trying to stay on top of homework, keeping ahead in the laundry by one clean outfit, and making sure the kitchen doesn’t get gross!

Reading the article triggered a different thought in my mind, though, that led me back to that Monday morning meditation. Active teaching is an important thing. But so is passive observation. Children need to see adults participating in worship alongside them. But—again—there’s more to it than just church-service worship. Children need to see their parents engaging in their own daily practices and disciplines of faith. They need to know that these are ordinary and important parts of our lives. We could tell them how important faith is until we’re blue in the face, but if we proclaim its importance while they never see us doing it, we have given away a valuable reinforcement to our verbal teaching.

When I was younger and out shopping for Christmas presents with my mom, she told me that my dad needed a new leather-bound King James Bible because he had worn his out. Frankly—I was shocked. I knew that my dad was a person of deep faith, but I had no idea about this devotion. I’d never seen him do it. I didn’t even know he had a favorite translation. I felt that I had missed something important by not knowing this. I realize now that I could be in danger of this as well.

I need my private time with God. I need to have space to pray and sit where I’m not likely to be interrupted. I do take seriously the comments from Jesus about praying in secret to avoid the hypocrisy of praying for the sake of being seen and regarded as more faithful and more spiritual by others (Matt 6:1-7). And yet, there can be a value in the interruptions as well.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m not suggesting that parents should stage “spiritual moments” for their children. But if we have habits and devotions, these will sometimes be seen. If your house is anything like my house, these devotions will be interrupted more frequently than we’d like! But, as jarring as the interruptions can be at times, perhaps we should try to see them as passive acts of faith formation, moments when our children (or spouses or friends) can observe us behaving with our bodies in the ways we try to teach with our words.

—————————————————————————————

Derek Olsen lives in Baltimore with his wife, an Episcopal priest, and their two school-aged daughters. He earned a Ph.D. in New Testament from Emory University with an emphasis on the intersection between Scripture and the liturgy, and currently serves on the Episcopal Church’s Standing Commission on Liturgy & Music. His reflections on life and liturgical spirituality appear at The St. Bede Blog.

October 1, 2015 1 comment

family life Prayer spirituality

Medusa Has a Headache by Kimberlee Conway Ireton

by Christine Sine November 8, 2013

written by Christine Sine

Today’s post is by Kimberlee Conway Ireton, mother of four and author of The Circle of Seasons: Meeting God in the Church Year and the recently released memoir, Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis. Some days she’s Medusa. Some days she’s achy in her head. On really bad days, she’s both. This was a really bad day.

I wake up with a headache. My sinuses feel like they’re stuffed with gauze. Almost every muscle in my body aches. I do not want to get out of bed.

I lie here, wondering how I can get out of living this particular day. Could I plead being more ill than I actually am so Doug will stay home and watch the kids and I can sleep my achy body well?

But Doug has meetings that he can’t miss, not to mention actual work to do.

“We’re out of Tylenol,” I moan when he comes in to tell me tea is ready. “I took the last one, and I forgot to get more when I went to the drug store on Tuesday.”

“Come have tea,” he says, “and then I’ll go to Safeway and get you some.”

After tea, I go back to bed while Doug takes Jane up to the store for Tylenol. I lie there alternately feeling sorry for myself and berating myself for my lack of foresight and want of organization that meant Doug had to make an early morning Safeway run.

When he gets home, I take two Tylenols and haul myself back out of bed.

The kitchen sink is still piled with pots and pans from last night’s dinner that I didn’t wash before I went to bed.

The sofa is covered with a pile of washed but unfolded laundry that I’ve been moving off my bed each night for a week at least, only to move it back to my bed in the morning so we have somewhere to sit during the day. I swear I fold clothes. I do. But that pile multiplies like rabbits.

And the babies have already strewn sixteen or twenty books and a dozen toys all over the floor.

I feel like I clean up the same messes day after day after day.

“That’s because you do,” Doug says.

“I’m sorry about the Tylenol,” I say.

“Don’t worry about it.”

But I want to worry about it. I want to feel wretched about the way my lack of planning creates more work for other people on a near daily basis. I want to hate myself and my life right now.

“It’s just so typical of me,” I say. “How I never manage to get my act together, how I’m always waiting till the last minute to do things, and then I don’t do half the stuff I want to do because I don’t have time. Because I’m so disorganized and such a procrastinator. It’s no wonder I never get anything done.”

Doug calmly cracks eggs into a dish. Apparently he’s used to this. “Hey,” he says, “you made a frickin pinata for Jack’s birthday party.”

Jack always wants a pinata for his birthday party. This year, he wanted a Perseus party with a Medusa head pinata.

The party store didn’t have a Medusa head pinata.

So Jack and I had to make one. A half hour before his party started, I was frantically blow-drying the stupid thing because, once again, I had failed to start this little project in a timely manner or plan my day well enough to finish it without panic.

When I remind Doug of this, he simply says, “But you made it.” Then he pours the eggs into the pan. They sizzle and bubble.

Clearly he’s not getting it. He doesn’t understand what a wretched, disorganized mess I truly am. I decide that if he, my husband and best friend, doesn’t understand, no one will. It is a depressing thought.

The rest of the day unfolds more or less along these lines, with me feeling sorry for myself because I’m exhausted and disorganized and I have a cold and a pile of dishes and a pile of laundry and a pile of work that I never manage to finish.

Life sucks.

Then I get the mail. Among the junk and the flyers advertising sales at nearby chain grocery stores is a magazine from Compassion International, through whom we sponsor a child. The cover article is about child prostitution in Brazil.

Suddenly my world becomes extremely clear.

I realize as I look at the girl on the cover just how safe and clean and, yes, easy my life is. So I have a trifling little cold and dishes and laundry that never end. I don’t have to fight sexual predators on a daily basis. I don’t have to watch my daughter and sons fight them. I don’t have to choose between starvation and prostitution.

Used to be, reading things like this would just deepen my self-loathing. Today, though, it draws me up short, makes me see my life through other lenses.

I ask God to forgive me for my lack of gratitude this day, for my willful loathing of my good, safe, clean, well-fed, housed, and healthy life.

The pile of laundry is still here, mounded on the bed once more. I don’t know when I’m going to get to it all. But it doesn’t matter so much anymore.

I pick up a towel and fold it, and I pray for those children in Brazil, for our sponsored child in Guatemala, asking God to give them a life as good as mine.

—a repost from Kimberlee’s archives

November 8, 2013 0 comment

spiritual practices

Growing Edge by Kimberlee Conway Ireton

by Christine Sine May 10, 2013

written by Christine Sine

Today’s post is by Kimberlee Conway Ireton, author of The Circle of Seasons: Meeting God in the Church Year.
Doug is working late tonight, giving a presentation at some Seattle geek fest, which means I am home alone with four kids at the dinner hour.

This shouldn’t faze me. I mean, I manage to get dinner on the table five nights a week without Doug being home to help me. He usually shows up just in time to help me round up kids and wash their hands and cajole Jane into finishing her table setting.
And that’s precisely what I need tonight—someone to help me with those last few things before we can eat.
Only Doug’s not coming home yet.
“Jane, honey,” I call from the kitchen to the living room where she’s making a Duplo castle. “We still need plates and water on the table, sweetheart.” I say it sweetly. I don’t yell. This is a growing edge for me. “Would you please come finish your job?”
She collapses into a heap on the floor and moans, “I don’t want to.”
I force myself to smile. “I didn’t ask you if you wanted to. I asked you if you would.”
She staggers to her feet and drags herself through the dining room to the kitchen. She stands next to me and stares up at the dishes on the shelf. “I can’t reach the glasses!” she whines.
I can feel my frustration mounting. I take a breath as I drain the pasta pot. “I’m going to let you figure that one out.”
She sighs dramatically, then turns on her heel and skulks out of the kitchen to get a chair from the dining table, which she then drags back to the kitchen counter.
I try to ignore her as I read the end of the recipe for the tenth, or maybe it’s the twelfth, time. Lemon juice, butter, sauce, shrimp, parsley, salt to taste. Got it.
Jack races through the kitchen holding an imaginary bow and shooting an imaginary arrow at an imaginary enemy. “That’s 40!” he shouts as he blasts past me.
“Jack!” I say, loudly, because he’s in another world, one where people do not stand over hot stoves trying to get dinner on the table but live on game and wild mushrooms, which they cook over an open fire. Unless they’re fighting off orcs.
“Jack!” I say again, louder.
“Yes Mama?”
I smile, but it’s totally forced, a grotesque mockery of a smile. “No running in the house.”
“Sorry, Mama.” He looses another arrow.
I say, “Would you wash Luke’s hands, please, while I finish this?” I look at the recipe again. Lemon juice. Check. Butter. Check. Sauce. I pour this over the pasta.
“Lu-uke!” Jack shouts as he runs past me into the living room. “Time to wash hands!”
Didn’t I just say something about not running in the house? Or was I only imagining those words? I look back at the cookbook. Where was I again? Oh, right. Shrimp. I empty the bowl of shrimp on top of the pasta.
Jane is standing at the kitchen sink, holding a glass under the faucet. She bounces up and down on her toes and whines, “I can’t reach it to turn it on, Mama!”
I just stare at her for a moment, then turn back to the cookbook. “Mama!” she wails. “I can’t reach the faucet!”
Parsley. I need parsley. I open the refrigerator and wrench a handful of parsley off the bunch that’s sitting at the top of the crisper drawer. With my biggest knife, I chop it into tiny little shreds of green.
Jane starts fake-sobbing. “I—can’t—reach—the—faucet!”
I whirl around. “Are you kidding me?” I shout. “There’s a perfectly easy solution to that problem! There’s absolutely no reason to cry about it!” I realize I am still holding the knife in my hand, stabbing the air with it while I bark at my daughter. Oh. Lord.
I turn my back on Jane and rather vigorously scrape the parsley off the cutting board into the pasta pot and stir everything together. “Dinner!” I call in a falsely cheery voice as I carry the pot to the table.
“Mama!” Jack shouts from the bathroom. “Luke’s poopy! He stinks like a hippopotamus!”
I look up at the ceiling. I close my eyes. I wish I could say I’m praying. I’m not. I’m feeling bitter. I put the pot on the trivet on the table and go to the bathroom to change Luke. “Jack, could you wash Ben’s hands and get him in his seat, please? You can use the kitchen sink.”
Ben screeches in protest; he doesn’t want Jack to wash his hands. Jack is screaming back, “I have to, Ben! Mama said!” Jane is yelling, too, because Jack is usurping her place at the kitchen sink.
“Jack! Jane!” I yell through the bathroom doorway. “Shut! UP!”
Jack calls back, “What, Mama?”

I roll my eyes. “Be quiet!” I shout through gritted teeth, but I don’t think they can hear me for all the noise they’re making.
By the time I finish changing Luke and wash both my hands and his, Jack has gotten Ben strapped into his chair. Ben is not happy about it. He screeches and kicks and hits the table. “It’s okay, Ben,” I say as I strap Luke into his high chair. “It’s okay. I know you’re upset. We’re going to pray. Then we’ll eat, okay?”
Apparently, that’s not okay. Ben picks up his fork and throws it.
“That’s it! I’ve had it!” I grab the back of Ben’s chair and drag it, and him in it, to his bedroom. Then I slam the door shut and storm back to the table. Luke, Jack, and Jane are all staring at me.
I pick up the matchbox and pull out a match, but I don’t strike it. I can’t light the candle and say “Bless the Lord” when I’ve just slammed a door and have spent the last five minutes yelling at my kids. I close my eyes and breathe the Jesus Prayer in and out a couple of times. When I’m calm and can speak truly, I pray out loud, “Lord Jesus, please forgive me. I’m so sorry I yelled at these precious people you’ve entrusted to me.” I take another deep breath.
Then I open my eyes and look at each of my children in turn. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m sorry, Jane. I’m sorry, Luke. I’m sorry I’ve been so grumpy. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“It’s okay, Mama,” Jack says. “We’re sorry, too. We weren’t obeying you.”
Jane nods. “I forgive you, Mama. I’m sorry I fussed.”
Luke is completely oblivious to my apology. He’s too busy eating the pasta that is somehow in his bowl.
I wish that I didn’t have growing edges, that I never raised my voice with my kids, that I was endlessly patient and kind and soft-spoken. But if I have to be a little rough and raggedy in places, and it seems I do, I’m awfully glad to be able to grow with these precious people God has entrusted to me. They’re full of love and forgiveness and grace. And I’m so grateful.
I smile at Jack and Jane. Then I strike the match and hold it to the candle. The wick flares. “Bless the Lord!”
Jack and Jane chorus, “The Lord’s name be praised!”
“You think Ben is ready to come out?” I ask. “You think he’s ready to pray with us?”
They both nod. I go to the bedroom and give Ben a hug. “I’m sorry I slammed the door on you, Benito.” He wraps his little arms around my neck. Then I push his chair back to the dining room. We pray, and I serve up the pasta.
“Highlight, lowlight!” Jane says. “I’ll start.”
And so dinner begins, with praise and prayer and the examen. The road to get here was a bit rough, but by the time we finish sharing our highlights and lowlights, we’re laughing together, eating together, enjoying each other again, and the roughness of the road has been forgiven and forgotten.

If you’d like to initiate your own mealtime candle-lighting ritual, here’s a free download to get you started: these short litanies that we use at the beginning of our family meal each day change with the seasons of the church year.

May 10, 2013 0 comment

Advent 2012 Christianity Christmas contemplation Prayer spiritual practices

Advent is Over – What Have You Learnt?

by Christine Sine December 24, 2012

written by Christine Sine

Today is the last day of Advent. I hope you have enjoyed reading the reflections in the series Let Us Wait As Children Wait. They have enriched my life and I pray they may have done the same for yours. Later today I will post a list of all the posts in the series, but first i want to ask What have your learnt?

For me, this has been a journey of discovery. When I suggested the topic I felt I knew what it meant to wait as children wait – wide eyed, expectant, impatient, standing on tiptoe to catch the first glimpse of fulfillment. Along the way I learnt about many other aspects of waiting. The massacre in Newtown brought home to us the vulnerability of childhood waiting not just for those who were killed but for all the abused, abandoned and starving children of our world whose lives are cut short and whose hopes and dreams never come to fruition.

Anne Townsend reminded me that often the elderly also wait like children and are often even more vulnerable. This was a poignant message for me as I walk with my elderly mother through the last years of her life. I thank God for my brothers and their families who care for her and enable her to live in freedom and comfort in spite of that vulnerability.

It occurred to me this morning, that the waiting of childhood is also a waiting between the times, just as we wait between the time of God’s promise and its fulfillment. Childhood is full of potential, impossible dreams, hopes not yet realized, a longing for maturity and the time of adult fulfillment yet a living fully in the present moment with fun and games, and enjoyment, with exploration and experimentation, with the willingness to listen, to adapt and to change.

Christ is coming, deep within our souls we know and already rejoice because of the glory and majesty of his kingdom that is already breaking into ours. At the same time we despair at the length of time the fulfillment of God’s dreams takes.

A couple of days ago I was caught up short by the phrase in Isaiah 11:6 and a little child shall lead them. So often Jesus reminds us to come as children, to live in the the upside down-ness of the kingdom where leadership is not with the powerful and the rich but with the vulnerable and the insignificant, where dependency, teachability, and the faith to believe that everything is possible reign.

This series has given me new eyes with which to look at the scriptures – the eyes of a child. What has it done for you? What lessons have you learned about God, God’s kingdom and yourself as you reflected on the posts throughout Advent? I would love to hear from you.

December 24, 2012 2 comments

Advent 2012 Christmas spiritual practices

Waiting with Ants an Advent Reflection by Jim Fisher

by Christine Sine December 18, 2012

written by Christine Sine

Today’s Advent reflection is written by Jim Fisher. Jim Fish enjoys reading and listening to stories. Even his profile pictures are intended to inspire conversation and invite you inside a story. (So what is the story behind that butterfly on your finger, Jim?) On his best days, he paints word-pictures for his website which you can find by searching for “Holy Hugs” via Google. He lives in Minnesota with his wife, Mary, his bicycle, Renée, and his 15-year-old narcissistic moth orchid, Luna, who always starts to bloom during Advent and continues her showy display until Easter.

—————————————————————————————————————–

A boy, not much older than a toddler, is sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk in front of his house, staring at a crack in the cement. As I approach him from the end of the block, I slow my pace so as not to interrupt whatever has captivated his attention.

With a light smile on my face, I stand amazed at the intensity of his focus. His head, resting on his hands, has not moved for several minutes. Then as he turns to pick up a small stick, he catches sight of me watching him. Without showing any signs of being startled, he simply greets me with a cheerful, “Hi!”

“Hi, Jimmy. What are you studying so intently?”

“Ants,” he replies excitedly.

“What are the ants doing?”

Jimmy turns, points his little stick to the crack in the sidewalk and explains, “Well, they go down into the ground through this hole and bring up sand. Then they carry it up over this pile and drop it and then go back down into the ground to get some more.”

As I sit on the pavement next to him, I watch as ants excavate their underground tunnels and build the perfectly round dome of sand that we all have seen in the cracks of sidewalks. As an adult, I certainly would never take the time, even on a perfect day like this, to sit and study … and wait … with the intensity and awe of this little boy. I begin to wonder why.

Jimmy returns to his study and lightly disturbs the dome with his stick to explore how the ants scurry to mend the scar. Amazed at his inquisitive spirit, I ask, “Do you study ants often?”

“Just when Mommy is gone.”

Startled, I probe deeper, “You mean your mom is not in the house?”

“No. She went shopping. She told me to wait here until she got back.” Jimmy’s forehead wrinkles. He is starting to wonder why I am asking these questions.

I hesitantly ask one more, “How long has she been gone?”

“Since after breakfast, I guess.”

It was almost noon.

Immersed in my adult worldview, I am having a hard time with this. I live in a time of child abductions, child abandonment, and abuse. I live in a time of constant stimulus, hand-held phones, electronic games, and social media. I live in a time of attention deficit and instant gratification. I live in a time where no responsible parent would leave their three-year-old child outside to wait for her return hours later.

I also live in a time when we have lost our desire, and maybe even our ability, to wait.

I am finding this especially difficult because I am peering back more than half a century to a very different time. I am also peering back to a very different person … for that little boy is me.

I have lost that childlike sense of awe and wonder-filled anticipation of what comes next. Well maybe not lost, but certainly scribbled over with ink drawn from the well of societal pressures, expectations, and norms. I tend to wait with twiddling thumbs, not with the active, anticipatory patience of a child.

The little boy knows that his mother will return. He has no reason to question it. And as he catches sight of her pulling the wagon full of groceries at the end of the block, he jumps on his tricycle pedaling as fast as his little legs will allow, scurrying to greet her. And as they return to the house once again united and engaged with each other, I wonder. I wonder if I will have that same childlike enthusiasm and energy to greet Jesus when He returns to us here on Earth. I wonder if I really understand what the Apantēsis is going to be like. I wonder if I really understand Advent.

I wonder, too, how ants with brains smaller than the grains of sand they are carrying can have such a perfected sense of symmetry and order. How can they instinctively know how to work together for the common good when we humans with much larger brains have yet to figure that out? Will I and the rest of humanity, our Creator’s crown jewel, ever learn how to care for and love our planet and each other as we were intended? How shall I wait for that? Like an adult waiting for a bus? Or like a child.

Lord, teach me to wait with the heart and energy of that little boy within me. Lead me away from a purposeless passing of the time and toward purpose-filled anticipation. Guide me in Your purposes and keep me moving on a path mending the scars on our planet and our people so that we become worthy of Your return. Amen.

December 18, 2012 0 comment

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