{the space in between}

I don’t know how to do this.

I don’t know how to parent a teenager. I don’t know how to move from helicopter mom to teaching my daughter how to fly. I don’t know how to navigate this space in between child and adult.

Those were the words left on my computer screen after I got the call from my husband that I needed to take Zach to football practice, and the message from our carpool that I also needed to pick Tali up from cheer. I have been thinking and praying about this topic for weeks, how to write about this place I find myself in with my daughter… this space in between. As I sat down to write yesterday morning, those were the only words I had. I don’t know how to navigate this. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to transition this relationship in a healthy way.

I typed them, and then went about my day, praying for a way to articulate all of the wrestling in my spirit. Parenting is hard. But now I'm seeing that parenting a teen is it's own special variety of hard. I'm not good at relinquishing control. I'm not good at watching people I love make less than ideal decisions. As I closed down programs in my computer before climbing in my big, silver taxi and hitting the road [again], they flashed across the screen at me.

I don’t know how to do this.

I don’t know how to parent with space. I don’t know how to give Tali the room she needs to stretch and grow and fall down and pick herself back up. Especially when I see so much of myself in her.  When I see the me that had everything in front of her and made such poor choices. When I see the me that is afraid to invest emotionally. When I see the me that can’t open up to people.  And I want to tell her the easy path. I want to pour into her the lessons I have learned and have her “get it”- ALL. Without the harsh learning curve I had.

When they are little, when we see them running faster than their little legs are equipped to keep up with we can stop them. We can yell ahead “Don’t run!!! You’ll skin your knees!!! Slow down!” We can keep them from so much hurt. But even when they are little… sometimes they still run. Sometimes the warning comes too late. Sometimes the knees still get skinned.

And here I am with this teenager… and I want to yell “DON’T RUN! Slow down!”… but the truth is, there are going to be bruises and wounds along this path.  And not only can I not keep her from all of them, but it wouldn’t be in her best interest if I did.

Sometimes we learn our best lessons from the skinned knees.

Sometimes that is the only way we figure out how fast our feet can carry us without toppling over.

The thing is, when it’s a six year old’s knee, we can kiss it and put a Band-Aid on it, and offer up a popsicle (because they make EVERYTHING better)… but when it’s a heart. Oh, it’s so much more difficult. And the mama bear desire to protect and guard is strong…

And that’s where I found myself standing in the shower, tears running down my face asking God… how far do I let her go? How closely do I guard?  Oh Lord, what decisions do I let her make, and which ones do I make the call?

And He answered… how far will I let you go, Becky?

And I know, He will let me go as far as necessary to learn to lean. He will guide and direct and steer with the power of His Holy Spirit, but in the end, the choice is mine. The path is laid out before me, His way and Mine… and I get to choose.

And so it is in this space in between with my teen… I can guide and direct, I can lay out the options and explain the consequences… but in the end she will decide. She will choose to be home by curfew or not. She will choose the way of honesty or not. She will save sacred spaces in her life or not. 

I recall my mom warning me when Tali was two years old and throwing a temper tantrum… “what seems cute and harmless at two isn’t so cute and harmless at thirteen, you are setting the stage now”.  She was so right. Oh, moms of littles, imagine that temper tantrum or talking back or ignoring the rules on a teenager and use that as a gauge as to how seriously you will take it now.  How far will you let them go, now? Because when they are teens those are the tools they will have in their tool belt to make their own decisions.  Be mindful of the pace you set for them now, because tomorrow, they will need to know how fast they can run.

My job as a parent is far from over, but it is definitely changing. My littles are now 11 and 13, and just aren’t so little anymore. It’s a season of transition and I don’t know exactly what it is supposed to look like or how to know if we are doing it well. I look back and hope and pray that we have laid a firm foundation. I pray that we have the courage to let our children fly, even when the nest seems so safe. In the end,  it's not even about her heeding my advice. But learning to hear the Father's voice. Following His call on her life. Letting Him pick her up when she stumbles.

I know that I can warn (and I will), I can call out “don’t run!”… but in the end, these years are about Tali learning how to set the pace. Learning how fast she can run without toppling over. Learning who she is and setting her sights on who she wants to be.  Learning how to navigate disappointment and words that hurt and relationships that are complicated and friends who aren’t.

And maybe, the best thing I can do is be there with a hug and a popsicle when the knees get skinned a little.   

But it’s hard. It’s hard to bite my tongue when I want to offer advice. It’s hard to navigate a space where words are easier spoken via text message than face to face and to know if that’s okay. It’s hard to see so much of me.  It’s hard not to guard and protect against every hurt.  It’s hard not to micromanage. It’s hard to honor the space she needs to grow.

And so that is where I was yesterday, as I typed those words on my computer screen.

I don’t know how to do this.

I don’t know how to navigate this thing. I don’t know how to parent a teenager because I’ve never done it before… and it’s too important to mess up. I feel inadequate and overprotective and scared and excited and sad all at the same time. This space in between… it’s hard.

Those words… I don’t know how to do this… danced in my head as we pulled out of the high school parking lot and the tears began to trickle down Tali’s cheeks. She poured out her hurt and her frustration and her disappointment, and I thanked God that she trusts me with these things, and asked Him to please help me have words that would encourage and build up and teach and challenge…

We talked. I told her that it did suck. I told her that it was okay to be upset and frustrated. I told her it was not okay to give up. I told her to remember she is good enough, and not to let anything change her smile.

And that’s when I opened the envelope with six one dollar bills in it. Money that someone had just given me unexpectedly. Money that I didn’t even realize I was “owed”.

Looking at the money I had a crazy idea…

“Steve and Kinzi are behind us… what do you think they would do if we threw this money at them?”

“What?!” Tali asked… and a smile began to spread across her face… “we could throw it out the sunroof!!”… so I gave her three dollars (because really, throwing money out the window IS crazy, and Dave Ramsey would NOT approve, and so we were only gonna toss half of it because apparently that makes it –OK–). And one at a time she tossed them out the sun roof.

Tali's Facebook Status last night. #worthit

Turns out, money is quite dramatic flying out a sunroof at 60mph.  

And it was hilarious.

We watched the shock on our friends’ faces as the money flew back toward them….

And we laughed til the tears changed.

Her friend called her, and we giggled even harder. She also threw one more dollar out just for good measure.

It wasn’t a Popsicle. It wasn’t a Band-Aid. But it was the best $4 I have ever spent.

When I got home, I opened my computer and I saw those words again…

I don’t know how to do this.

And the truth is, I don't. But in that moment I heard my Father speak loud and clear... but I do. 

Father, help us lean on you as we parent. Help us lean on you as we navigate new seasons. Help us lean on you to guide and direct our yes's and our no's. Be the Light to this path, Jesus. In Your Name we pray, AMEN.

two little men

Isn't it strange how God can use the most common things... things that may seem so insignificant to others... to speak directly to your heart?

He did that to me on Saturday night as I was scrolling through my Facebook wall on my phone. I came across this check in at Mi Pueblo, where a small group of us had gathered to discuss the Micah 6:8 Project...

Had she tagged us in a different order, I wonder if I would have even noticed. I wonder if I would have stopped. I wonder if I would have cried...

But tagged as we were, my heart was assaulted by the vision of two little boys, both on the water... 

One, my son. My very own profile picture. I love this picture of Zach, such JOY, such ABANDON, such FREEDOM. He was at the lake with friends, a place of recreation and fun and laughs and adventure. 

But not for the little boy in the next picture. Not for the little man captured by Christy Farhar. The lake for him... a place of bondage. Work. Pain. Enslaved in Lake Volta's fishing industry along with 7,000 other children. The joy of the little white boy next to him, surely a distant memory... if he has ever known it. 

And as I thought about this... 

Oh, how I wept. 

I wondered... what would I do, if it were my Zach enslaved on that lake?. What ends would I go to rescue him, to bring him home, to let him know that I love him... to make sure He is safe and secure? How much money would I spend? What sacrifice would I make? My very own son, the one whom I love from the depths of who I am... how far would I go?

But the truth is, friends, the little man in Christy's picture is no less our son. He is no less our flesh and blood. He is no less valuable. No less in need of a hope and a future. No less in the eyes of God. Just because I have not yet put my arms around his little brown body... He is no less mine to care for. 

He is no less yours.

Think about your own children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews... if they were trapped in slavery, forced to work fourteen hour days, fed one inadequate meal, uneducated... how far would you go? What sacrifice would you make?

I challenge you... to let your mind go there. Really rest in that pain for a moment. Because in the Kingdom, he is ours. And if you would go to the ends of the earth to rescue the one you love, should you not be willing to do the same for the one He loves? Should our hearts not break for the things that break His? How far would you go?

Yesterday in church, Seth shared the story of the Grapevine Faith football game against the Gainesville State School in Texas. How the whole town of Grapevine rallied around the boys from Gainesville- the boys brought in on a maximum security bus with twelve armed guards. How the parents of the Grapevine players sat behind the Gainesville boys, cheering them on to hit their very own sons. How the cheerleaders stood in a line and cheered on the Tornadoes, even though the front of their uniforms said "Lions". How they rooted for the Gainesville boys instead of their own kids... because that's what Jesus would have them to do. 

And the whole time he was talking, as the tears made their way down my cheeks, I thought of the picture of two little men on my Facebook wall. One I do not know, and one that I would die for... and the Lord challenged my heart... would you root for this little naked child over your own? Would you cause your own son to sacrifice from abundance, so that this one could have the most basic of necessities... food, clothing, freedom.

photo by Christopher Knopf, September 2012

That is my challenge for you today, friends. Look into these eyes... and see the one you love. Wrap your mind, even if just for a moment, around the kind of life these children in Ghana know. 

And then resolve in your heart to do something to help. Don't just look in his face and then closing your browser window, forget. What does the Lord require of you? But to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8 He requires us to look into this face... and then to reach down our very own hands to help. He requires it, friends. Acts of justice are not something the Lord takes lightly... and when He called us to be His hands and feet, sometimes it will look just like this.

I realize that not everyone will walk in this dusty African soil, take the broken by the hand and lead them into a new life. But there are ways you can help from right there, where you are... whether you are on your couch or at your kitchen table or sitting at your desk at work or in your car... There are ways that you can reach out a hand to the least of these. To the ones who can never repay you. To the ones whom, if you would bend your knee and look in their eyes you will realize look an awful lot like the ones you love the most. Wherever you are, whether you have much or little, there is something that YOU can do. 

You can partner with us at the Micah 6:8 Project to build a residential and vocational center so that more children can be brought home off the lake. Our partners promise a monthly gift of any amount, and will be the backbone of this project, sustaining it for years to come. Bringing a hope and a future.

Or you can join us in our first annual Prayer 5k. For gifts of $35 or $50, you can join us in our goal of raising $5000 and 5000 prayers for this project... making a way for a mission team to travel to Ghana in November to look at land that has been provided by the very hand of God, land that is ours for the taking if it meets our needs. Land that will allow us to build the orphanage to house kids who deserve the same education, freedom, love, hope that we desire for all of our own children to have.

Are you willing? 

Are you willing to sacrifice from your own child's abundance, so that the children of Ghana may have the most basic of necessities? Is it worth $50 to look into the eyes of this little boy and know you have done something to help? Oh, if that were my Zachary wrapped in brown skin... oh, there is no sacrifice that would be too great... am I willing to open my eyes to the truth that this one I have never met, is no less mine? No less a part of my heart? 

I see it now. I see it in a whole new way. Two pictures of little men on lakes, lakes that are a world apart geographically and emotionally... a casual scroll down my Facebook wall... and my heart is wrecked. I can't stop crying. I can't stop wondering what more can I do? 

If you feel as helpless to help as I do, I would ask you to visit The Micah 6:8 Project to see how you CAN help. Give a financial gift of any amount. Join us in our Prayer 5k (a 5k that involves no walking or running, instead 3.5 days of prayer for this project and the lives it will touch). There are only five days left to register, and we are only a third of the way to our goal of one hundred people to participate... one hundred people. Surely there are one hundred of you whose hearts will break for the things that break His? Surely there are one hundred of you who are willing to sacrifice $35 or $50 to bring freedom to the lives of children... surely...surely there are.

I am willing. I have looked into those dark brown eyes and seen my own children. Are you willing to do the same? Are you willing to love on Jesus the way He really asked us to love on Him, not through arms raised or voices loud... but by loving the very least of these? Pray about it friends... and then do something...

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress. James 1:27

Father, would you move our hearts? Lord would you break our hearts for what breaks yours? Will you bring each of us an individual revelation of that which you've required of us... what it really looks like to act justly? to love mercy? to walk humbly? Would you open our eyes to the needs of this world and show us, Father, that if we sacrifice for you, that if we give in the way you have asked us to give... that we will not have to worry about a thing. That you are the God who owns the cattle on a thousand hills, and that you have us covered? Move on hearts today! Father I ask that you bring abundant support for the Micah 6:8 Project, that you would continue to confirm your will for this home in Ghana by bringing the project exactly what it needs! Lord I thank you that you are a God who is able... a God who is able to humble my heart and show me where I have failed to break, a God who is able to do this incredible thing in Ghana, a God who is able to use something like a check in at a Mexican restaurant to challenge my heart and change my mindset... I love you so much... Let us do this for YOUR glory!

finding our wonder

Saturday night I gathered with most of Bicknell for the annual “Freedom Bash”.  Tali and Zach came dripping from the night swim to ask for money for lemon shake ups and funnel cakes. Jim and the guys stood around a tail gate chatting it up. Blankets went on the ground and camping chairs all faced the same direction as we prepared for the capstone event of the evening. The fireworks.

I have always been a fan of fireworks, but frankly on this night, with temps still nearing 100 degrees at 9pm, I wasn’t sure it was worth it. And then they began. Slowly.

One firework at a time. Then a pause. And another one. Then a pause. And another.

Meanwhile the sweat was forming a steady line down the center of my back and I could literally hear my air conditioning [and couch] calling my name.

Leaning toward a friend I said “this is a little lame, isn’t it?”

And at that moment, as they were warming up their engines over on the firing line, sitting in the heat after a long day and longer month, I could think of a dozen things I would rather be doing.

Miss Hadley

Until Hadley toddled up to us on 21 months’ worth of chunky legs and taught me a lesson in wonder.

In her less than two years of experience, these were the best fireworks she had ever seen. Every blast in the sky, regardless of how feeble or small it appeared to my eyes, brought a gasp of utter amazement from her small frame.  She climbed onto her aunt’s lap, oooohing and aaaaaahing and clapping for the fireworks that illuminated her face so that I could see the wonder in her eyes.

This is no ordinary night. This is no ordinary event. Family and friends are gathered, and the sky has become a magic show of sounds and lights.

In that moment, my heart began to stir within me. I joined Hadley in her ooooohing and aaaaaahing. I declared my favorite firework to be the fountain and popcorn varieties [arguing that these were, in fact, better names for them than chandelier or fairy dust fireworks].  And with my eyes opened to the wonder, it really did develop into a spectacular display of lights in the sky. I left impressed with the hard work that went into blessing our little town with such a show. [Well done Freedom Bash committee!]

But more than that, I left thinking about how, all too often, we lose our wonder.  My friend Lauren (I learn a lot from her, don’t I?) is a passionate Bible teacher and more than once as she has recounted a story from the Word she has paused with the challenge "Come on people, can we wonder at that for a moment?! Have we lost our wonder?”

Have you lost your wonder?

When you think about the Lord leading the Israelites out of slavery, parting a sea, making dry land, and then swallowing up their enemeies… are you amazed? Because seriously, that is an amazing story… but it’s not just a tale. It really happened.

Or the manna He caused to fall from Heaven! I mean really!? Wouldn’t you love to try just one little bite of that stuff?

Or when Gideon defeated the Midianites with only 300 men?

Or that a man named Jesus, came in a manger... fully God, fully man… to carry the weight of our sins on a cross. That we may have life and have life abundantly.

Have we lost our wonder? Have we lost the wonder of our salvation? Of the price that was paid so that we can know an eternity in heaven?

I think we have.

Because if our minds really grasped what Christ did for us, what His everything looked like, what His everything works in our lives, then when He called the answer would never be “no”.  The things of this world really would grow strangely dim, with our eyes fixed on Him! We should have so much wonder that nothing else really matters.

Instead, we get all bound up and frustrated because Red Robin no longer brings baskets of fries to your table as appetizers.  [True story, happened yesterday]

Can I get a reality check here? Table 12?

Friends, today I ask that you would find your wonder. That as you walk through this day, you would find awe in every breath. Beauty in every landscape. Miracles in every face.  That your eyes would be like Hadley’s… wide to the wonders of this world, reflecting the Light that dances across your life…

Because when you focus on the wonder, when you focus on the wonder of your own salvation, when you focus on the wonder of your own “Red Sea” moments- when God showed up and brought you through when there appeared to be no way- there will be no room for complaining. No room for leaning toward a friend and mumbling “this is kind of lame, isn’t it?” No room for first world problems like endless fries and sauces only coming with your meal.  

Because you have Jesus. Shouldn’t that be enough to keep joy in your heart? No matter what?

But all too often, it's not enough. All too often I find my eyes wandering to the areas of lack, of less than, of imperfection. I find my heart longing for things He has not called forth in my life. I find frustration in my circumstances... where there should be peace and joy in the place He has called me. 

Look into your circumstances, and find Christ at work right there. At a table at Red Robin, or your desk at work, or your home with little ones always underfoot. Wonder that He would bring you here, for just such a time as this... What are you going to do with this opportunity... with this moment...? You can complain, or you can find the wonder.

The choice is yours.

Father, I am sorry for those times that I have lost my wonder… I am sorry for focusing on my moment instead of your eternity! Bring our eyes back to you, Lord. Bring our eyes back to your beautiful face, and restore our wonder! Restore our sense of awe at the works of your hand, in creation and in our hearts. Father  help us be a people stepping out of darkness, a people walking in your Light, a people full of rejoicing rather than complaints. We love you Lord, we want to know you more!! Thank you for your son Jesus and may we never lose our wonder at the work He did for us on that cross… it’s in His beautiful name we pray… 

Parental Whiplash: an update

About six weeks ago, my heart hit the floor when I realized that my son, whom we had trusted with a Kindle Fire that was tied to our checking account had… as we have come to call know it around here… “lost his ever loving mind” for 24 hours and cost us over $200.  I blogged about it shortly after, feel free to go read about it here if you missed the first go-round.

My husband and I struggled with what would be an appropriate punishment. What is big enough? What is too big? How do you navigate such uncharted territories as a nine-year-old overdrawing a checking account?

We started with the confiscation of the Kindle, of course, and the determination that he would have to pay his father back the money he owed him.  We had him sit and figure how many hours his daddy had to work to earn the amount of money he spent on fictional armor for a person in a video game.  And then, for every time he pressed “buy” he had to write a sentence of apology.

There was much late night discussion between Jim and I… Zach had been so forthcoming, so honest, so upstanding since the time we realized what he had done. Between us we knew his lesson had been learned… yet we had to follow through with the punishment we set forth. We worried that he would become disillusioned… our family had just instituted a chore chart which enabled the kids to earn a little money every week… at $12 a week it was going to take a LONG time to pay his daddy off. How long would he keep doing the chores without any tangible reward? Were we setting ourselves up for a three month battle to make him do the right thing?

But the most incredible thing happened.  The surprise and the pride I experienced in the days immediately after ‘the incident’ only grew.  Zachary not only owned his poor decision to press buy 29 times, but he worked hard to pay off his debt. Week in and week out, he kept tabs on his chore sheet as to how much he owed his daddy. When offered the chance to learn how to mow and earn $10 each time, he jumped at it.  Offers to clean out the car for a little extra were enthusiastically embraced. He didn't ask to have his Kindle back a single time. He didn't ask for any extras at the store, not so much as a candy bar. He was gracious and appreciative when he still got to go skating (a Friday night tradition) after a week of restriction from that activity. 

I was amazed.

Zach is, to put it lightly, one of the least patient children I have ever met. He gets it from his momma, who also does not function well in the ‘wait’. Seeing his sister slide money in her “spend”, “save”, and “give” envelopes had to be so hard for him. There were times he questioned whether or not he would ever see the end of that $213.  But he never, ever stopped working at it. He never once threw a fit, or gave up, or got mad… and the occasional pout was of the most minor variety [truly, who can fault the kid an occasional forlorn look or slow walk into the other room? Consequences suck sometimes.]

A week ago, as school let out, Zach proudly brought his report card to me. All A’s… all year. His daddy has always told the kids that if they obtain perfect attendance for an entire school year, he would give them $50 at the end of the year. The result of this offer has been myself making runs to the school at 8:30am to pick up children who didn’t tell me they were sick, because they didn’t want to miss school!  About a year ago, I told Zach on the trip back home that perfect attendance was great, but perfect grades would be even better- all A’s and mommy would give him $100. Apparently this kid just needs a goal, because he set out the next school year to get that $100 from me. And he did.

I made that deal with the kids in a moment of frustration, my second trip in a month to pick up a sick kid from school. But God knew. God had a plan for that. He is in the business of grace, and He KNEW that at just a time as this, that little boy was going to need to have a chunk of money he earned FAIR AND SQUARE. He knew that at just this time, a mom and a dad were going to be looking for a way to expedite the paying off of a debt so their son could move into the next phase of giving and saving. He knew just what we were going to need, and over a yea ago, He made a way.

He is so good, isn’t He?

And so, Zach had earned $100 that he applied to his debt… bringing it down to $50. Which brought about another late night conversation with his daddy. Jim was worried that Zach would become discouraged working and working with nothing but numbers on a paper to show for it. We agreed that he needed to finish paying us off, but decided to let him keep 50% of his money every week and apply the other 50% to his debt.

I talked to Zach about it the next day. I told him we were really proud of the way he had worked hard to pay us off, and that we wanted him to start having some of his chore money. I told him about the compromise we had come up with the night before… but Zach quickly responded… “I don’t want to do that”.

I fully expected him to leap for joy to know he would have some spending money for the summer. Instead he went on… “That will take forever to pay off. I just want to keep giving everything to daddy”.

I couldn’t believe my ears. I didn’t even know how to respond for a minute. Finally I said, with tears in my eyes “That was a really wise decision, Zach, a really wise decision.”  For a moment, I felt like I knew what our Father must feel when He looks upon us with those sweet words “Well done, good and faithful one…”  Those words don’t come because we never make mistakes, they come because we have a heart that desires to do the right thing and a willingness to turn toward Him when we find ourselves on the wrong path. It’s owning up to the decisions we have made, growing through the consequences, and accepting His grace. It comes from our reaching a place where we say "my all for you!"

In that moment, I knew there was room for grace in our growing-our-kids-plan as well. Another late night conversation, and Jim's reaction was the same as mine. Not only had the lesson been learned, but we could see definite growth in our son over the process of walking out of this mistake. We both agreed to forgive the last bit of Zachary’s debt (he had done some mowing and other extras to bring it down to below $40). I spoke about it with a few friends to get their input (it takes a village, people), and all agreed with our heart to extend grace to our son.

Zach was subdued when I told him.

Grace is sometimes a difficult gift to receive, isn’t it?

He did accept it though. And with this last week’s chore & mowing money, he paid his sister back for the portion of her gift card he had also burned through and had $12 to slip into his respective envelopes.

Debt paid, in full. 

(He is even getting his Kindle back after living up to our challenge of a week or two ago to make it to June 1st without any more impulsive decisions).

The correlation to the grace we receive from our Heavenly Father is impossible to miss. Yes, Zach paid off his debt… but every penny he paid was originally his daddy’s in the first place.

Zach, like us, was powerless to really pay off that debt. So we made a way for him to learn, to be refined, to grow and mature. It was never about the money. It was about the growing.

It’s a little like the Law, given by a Father to His people. A system of sacrifice and right-living to pay for the debt of their sin. A debt they could never really pay for. Animals given by the Father, returned to the Father in a ritual that looked a lot like check marks on a chore chart.

And then, in a moment of mind-blowing love… a Son sent to really forgive the debt. To pay the price in full.  A sacrifice of self to end all sacrifices. That last $40 forgiven, an overwhelming grace which really and truly forgave the entire debt. Forever. A debt forgiven that somehow ends with a “well done, good and faithful one” from the Master to the debtor.

It's incredible, isn't it??

I could not have imagined six weeks ago that the Kindle-debacle would have ended with a momma's heart swelling with pride for the young man my son is growing into. And my spirit finds such comfort in the knowledge that HE feels the same way about ME. That even in my failures, His love is unwavering... that, in fact, He knows how He will use those failures to His good purposes. That He knows the end from the beginning, and how we will walk through consequence, finding ourselves refined on the other side. That our Daddy God alone knows the path that will lead us to the greatest realization of His love and purpose. 

Regardless of where you are now, or where you have been... the Father has a plan and a purpose. He is not disappointed. In foretelling of Israel's deliverance, God says in Isaiah 27:4 "I am not angry". That verse struck my heart the first time I read it, and it rings there to this day. I am not angry. For many years, I related to a God who I felt was mostly mad. Mostly disappointed. Mostly frustrated. But here, in talking to a people who were captives because of their own decisions... people who would could have had peace like a river had they only listened to Him... people who instead had chosen to turn away from Him again and again and again... He says "I am not angry".

I think of that night in our living room, daddy confronting a son who had made a huge mistake. Tears in my eyes as I saw my husband take our son by the hands and start his discussion by saying "I love you so much, buddy". We were taken by surprise, disappointed, confused, hurt... yet if Jim, who is just a failed human parent like the rest of us, knows how to love his son well even in that moment... how much more must our Father in Heaven love us in all of ours?

I don't know where you are tonight, but I know from my own life there are things I am walking through even now that are not easy. Areas that I have made mistakes. Things I am still trying to sort out. What a comfort it is to hear my Daddy say "I am not angry". What a comfort to know that He is using this time to grow and refine, that He is is still proud to call me His child. He feels the same way about you, my friend.

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! 1 John 3:1

parental whiplash

Sometimes we do things right. Sometimes we make big mistakes.

I think that our Father is not so much concerned with the weight of one to the other, as how we respond in each of the situations.

A week or so ago I got a text about one of my kids from their teacher. They had stood up for a friend who was being picked on at school. My mommy’s heart was so proud…  I have been talking to them both about being more than kids who do the right thing… but being kids who stand up against the wrong thing. And so it was such an encouragement to see in action the words spoken into my kiddos' hearts, affirmation that something might actually be going right at home… which is always great because no one knows better than me how messed up things can be there at times!

I was on a mommy high. The kind where your heart is full of pride at the people your kids are growing into being. I may or may not have made a Facebook status to that end.

And then, literally minutes later, the phone rang. My husband asked “Which of the kids have been buying things with their Kindles?”… wha? huh? seriously? The kids that I may or may not have just posted about being incredible kids… have overdrawn his checking account?

Talk about parental whiplash.

The rest of the phone conversation was a mix of “I-can’t-believes” and “Surely-there’s-a-mistakes”… but the proof was there, in his hands. A bank statement with not one, or two, or four “Amazon Digital” charges. 

But twenty-nine.

Hanging up the phone, I quietly asked “who has been buying things with their kindle???”

One small hand silently raised to shoulder level.

My heart sunk. The “surely not’s” became reality. Twenty-nine times my child had pressed buy to the tune of $183.40. Plus fees for the overdrawn account.

I may or may not have removed a facebook status about being proud of the incredible people my children were growing into being. One had stood up to a bully at school, the other had overdrawn our checking account. Life has a way of leveling the parental teeter-totter.

That evening turned into a lecture/fact-finding mission that would not end.  Surely they were confused and did not realize what they were doing? Surely they forgot that the kindle fire was tied to our checking account? Surely??

But when it all boiled down, and I asked the simple question “Did you know you were doing something wrong when you hit buy?”, and two big, sad brown eyes peered back at me with a quiet but honest “yes”… there was no longer any question.

At that moment my heart was flooded with a swell of emotions.

Disappointment… they knew better. They had been warned, threatened, and reminded.

Frustration… did I mention they knew better? Seriously, I could imagine once, or twice… but twenty-nine times! In 24 hours?! And they didn’t even buy apps, just upgrades to a game they were playing…

Hurt… because they were so disappointed in themselves. So embarrassed. So sad. The tears flowed steadily all night long and it always hurts to see your child hurting.

But more surprising than any other emotion was the…

Pride.

Not one time did they deny their actions, or make excuses. No whining about consequences or punishments. In fact they had volunteered to sell something near and dear to their heart in order to pay daddy back. They agreed without question to using their chore money to pay him back in the meantime. The kindle was handed over, without the weeping and gnashing of teeth that have accompanied its restriction in the past.  When we explained that they would have to go into the banker and apologize for overdrawing daddy’s account, they looked me right in the eye with an “okay”, and then dropping their chin to their chest, cried silently.

The consequences hurt, but they have walked through each one of them without question. Without whining. Without excuses or blame shifting or fit throwing.

And there is a part me that knows… the lesson has been learned. Neither of my children will ever, ever, ever make a Kindle transaction without our express written consent in the future.  The lesson was learned the moment they were caught and that hand rose slowly into the air.

But there still must be discipline. There still must be consequence.  What would be learned if we covered the mistake with no price to pay? With no sacrifice?

I think of the passage of scripture that says our Father “disciplines those He loves”.  It is a good thing to have a Father who loves you enough to discipline you. To sit, as Jim did with our child, and say “I love you so much. SO MUCH. Had you just asked I would have given you an amount you could spend. But this is unacceptable. You took more than your daddy had to give you…”

My mom cautioned me when my daughter was a toddler and my son was just a baby- ”Becky, you aren’t raising children. You are raising adults… keep that in mind”

It’s good to have a Daddy who will discipline you. It’s good to know the Father’s love. Love that is deep enough He can not be satisfied with you being anything less than mature and complete. Who is raising us up to be a people set apart, different. That loves us enough to walk us through difficult times... times that refine us and grow us.

It’s also good to know, that in the moments of our greatest triumphs and our greatest mistakes… the Father is still proud. That He never gets parental whiplash. He is never surprised by anything we do, or do not do. That when we walk in obedience, or disobedience... He loves us just the same. Just as I love my kids... when they are right and when they are wrong. Just as I have been so proud of them over this last week, of their courage and humility and integrity in the face of major consequences.

And so, tonight I can say with no wavering, with no doubt… how incredibly proud I am of my children. How blessed I am to have the opportunity to be their mommy, and how proud I am of the people they are becoming. Not because they are perfect… but because of who they are, even in the midst of major league mistakes.

And no matter what you have done... right or wrong... I can so easily hear Daddy God saying the same thing… about you.

How to wrap Christmas JOY

The sky still black with night, my brother makes his way to my bedroom. Though his voice is hushed, it is electric with excitement "Becky! It's Christmas!" He did not have to wake me, as I had already taken my own silent trek to the living room to see for myself.

There are few things that compare to that time of excitement. Laying in bed with my little brother, watching the clock and waiting for it to be less night and more morning so we could finally wake up a mom who we now know was laying in her own bed, listening to our excited giggles and speculation the whole time. 

Now that I am grown, little has changed. There have been many Christmases where Jim and I have laid in bed, excitedly waiting for the moment that Tali and Zach would make their way into the living room... Listening as they peek into stockings, evaluate the gifts and who they were for, eventually making their way to our bedroom. Their hushed voices ringing with a joy that seems unique to Christmas morning.

It's a simple thing, yet that time-before-the-chaos of wrapping paper and bows and gifts are my favorite moments.

And so, as I talked to my friend (and cousin, and coworker- yes, she's all three) the other day about a project she has taken on at work... my heart broke.

Last year, Generations & 211 coordinated with other local agencies such as the United Way, the Salvation Army, local schools, businesses, and charitable organizations to create a "Christmas Clearinghouse". The goal was to be able to serve more families by eliminating duplication of services during this holiday season. So over the last month, Angela has been taking in calls from families who, for one reason or another, have no means to provide Christmas for their children this year. She has also spoken to many, many businesses and agencies who have offered to sponsor hundreds of children.

But the need is great. 

And at this moment, the need is outpacing the sponsorship.

As of a week ago, there were about 200 children that will not have Christmas, if we don't act. These are not kids in some far off land... these are kids that you pass on the street as they play outside in their yards. These   are kids that go to school with your own children. They play together at recess. Ride together on the bus. 

According to the American Consumer Credit Counsel, the average American will spend $935 on Christmas this year, the vast majority of that on gifts to family and friends. And there are children in our own communities that will wake up to nothing. It's hard to imagine, friends, but it is true. 

Our priority has become lavishing more and more and more on those who already have much, while we pretend that there aren't children going without. Kids who need to know that they are loved, and valued, and appreciated. Kids who need to know that they are not forgotten.

Tonight I am challenging you to be the one who remembers. To mobilize a group of friends and sponsor one or two or ten children. Talk to your Sunday School class, Bible Study group, spouse, best friend, coworkers... and do something.  As you buy and wrap gifts for these little ones, you will be doing more than filling their house with toys and clothes... you will be filling it with the hushed excitement and electricity of a Christmas morning. And that, friends, is how you can buy, wrap, and give Christmas joy this season.

You will give parents in desperate circumstances peace. And the knowledge that someone cares. 

Helping is easy... contact Angela Dobbs at 888-4279 or email her at adobbs@vinu.edu. We have had several calls this last week, children taken off the waiting list... but we have also had more applications submitted. The need is great, and you can help.

This isn't about playing Santa to a group of children, it's about being Jesus to them.

16: sonshine kids

Church hall alive with the footsteps of children. The aroma of turkey and all the fixin’s wafting up from the kitchen. Big kids helping little ones with plates of food.  Boys being reminded to keep their hands to themselves.  Children sitting in groups talking about their day.

It’s Thanksgiving Dinner at SonShine Kids. I wish you could see the smile on those kids faces as they pull apart the adorable turkey treats Carla made (a sweet dessert of oreos, reece’s, candy corn… all fashioned into little turkeys!)  Four hours in her kitchen devoured in minutes… ahh but for these kids to know that someone delighted in them enough to fashion such an elaborate snack. It is worth it. The giggles as I attempt to convince them that they are held together with hot glue… but they know better.  They know this is a place that loves.

The shy grin when I ask my little friend why she didn’t save me a seat. And the electric smile when she finds me at another table and slides into the chair next to me. Shining eyes peering at me from a dirty face… a face that has broken my heart and caused me to love.

A tap on my shoulder. Another little friend sneaking up beside me. She stands there, not saying a word. She seeks attention, but is too shy to speak first. I ask if she has my hug… and she does. She always does. We talk about school. She reminds me again who her teacher is. Looking her in the eye. For the moment she is the only one of importance. It’s a small gift… yet she looks for it week after week.

Songs sung.  Our Pastor leading us through the motions. Little kids with arms raised high.  Lessons on self-control. Games played. Tickets earned and names drawn.

I am so thankful for this incredible, beautiful, rag-tag group of kids God has entrusted us with at SonShine Kids. The bellies and souls that we get to feed.

It is not always easy. Boys can be rowdy. Girls can be needy.  We have had our fair share of sick kids and messes to clean up.  Children that only know attention of the negative sort. Kids piled in the van sometimes lead to a bloody nose.

But when you see volunteers cleaning that child up with such great love… and then wrap him in a brand new coat to replace the soiled one.  Coats on hand, for just such a time as this…

It’s worth it.

When you see entire families step into relationship with Christ because a van driver took the time to bring their kids to SonShine Kids week after week, for years… it’s worth it.

When a little girl slips beside you on a metal folding chair, because she knows that you care… it’s worth it.

When a child seeks you out each week for a hug… it’s worth it.

When bright blue eyes and freckled faces call to you in the grocery store... it's worth it.

When bellies are full, and songs are sung, and Jesus is taught… it’s worth it.

When my heart is broken and molded and changed by these incredible little souls who blossom and bloom in this place that loves…

It’s so, so, so worth it.

Some think that the high callings are those of pastors, or teachers, or missionaries… and certainly that is true…

But I think the highest callings are those of soft hands holding Kleenex to a bleeding nose.  Hours in a kitchen fashioning turkeys out of cookies and candy.  New winter coats.  Mashed potatoes and corn and green beans. Van drivers drowning in noise as they navigate city streets.  Bent knees before dirty faces.  

Ministering to the very heart of Jesus. What higher calling can there be? 

“The King will reply… 'whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for me…'” [Matthew 25:40]

christmas 2008

It's been a blissfully busy Holiday Season and so I haven't been able to share nearly as many pictures and stories as I would have liked with you... so tonight I play catch up with our last six weeks, at a glance...


November 23rd
Our Christmas celebrations were officially kicked off with Tali walking in the Evansville Christmas Parade with her dance school. While she had a great time, she did learn that when walking in a parade in a city the size of Evansville, it's important to go with comfort over style- the boots, while adorable... not so good for walking about twelve [real] city blocks.

November 29th

Next stop, we continued our family tradition of going to the Christmas Tree farm on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. This year we were blessed with an unseasonably warm day, which ironically made the tree-choosing process much more difficult. Face it, any tree is "good enough" when being pelted in the face with freezing raine. We ended up letting Tali choose this Griswold-sized tree, which she and Molly then helped drag to the shaking and bagging station. Cups of hot cocoa, bowls of chili, and dishes of the best cheesecake in the world quickly ensued.

November 29th, 7pm
We bring the tree into the house. It's nicely bound in this netting and doesn't look so bad at all in our living room. We're pretty proud of ourselves for not getting a tree taller than our ceilings this year... and then Jim cuts the net. I only wish I would have had a video camera running as the branches sprang into their original-God-given form, forcing Tali back several feet and smacking Jim in the face. Priceless. And huge. We all sat around and waited as Jim made a last minute trip to the store for more lights. That's right- we didn't even have enough lights to go around the monster. Once lit, and crammed [literally, crammed] back into the corner, decorating fun began. Tali, Zach, and Molly enjoyed taking a trip down memory lane as we went through our ornament box item by item.

December 5, 7, 13, and 14th
The next two weeks were spent travelling with Tali's dance school as they performed the Children's Nutcracker in Evansville, Lynnville, New Harmony, and Henderson. Tali is the beautiful ballerina holding the butterfly. I loved this new variation of the Chinese dance this- the Dragon was a beautiful shot of color and excitement on stage! This was also Tali's favorite part to dance. When we first chose to change studios, I was so worried about the road time. Since then, I've found our time on the road to be some of the best time Tali and I have to spend together. It's a special time filled with singing, conversations, questions, ice cream, Adventures in Odyssey, and a LOT of Misty Edwards.

December 21, 9am

Christmas Sunday, and Tali and Zach are looking dapper in their annual Christmas outfits from Mamaw Miller. She has always loved dressing the kids up, and this year she really outdid herself with their adorable matching outfits. Once dressed, my annual tradition of torturing my children in front of the Christmas Tree then began. Pictured above are the results of that torture session.

December 21st, 10:45am

It's a Christmas Miracle! We all made it to church, on time, in our outfits, with no major stains or issues... and we actually still appear to be happy about it! Hallelujah!

December 22nd
Today was a marathon day of gift wrapping. Tali has been having some chest pains, and after seeing the doctor we decided to occupy our hands and minds with much overdue wrapping. I love to wrap gifts, and Tali has decided that she does too. This year she learned the fine art of curling ribbon [it's a special gift], which clearly takes a lot of concentration. The great news was that tests the following day all came back normal. Praising the Lord for the best gift of the year!

December 21st, all afternoon

After church we head to the Jones' home for our annual Christmas Gift exchange with Grace. The gifts were wonderful and the kids enjoyed them immensely... but I think everyone's favorite part of the day was just getting to hang out with our friends- seemed like it had been forever. The kids toasted the event with sparkling grape juice. How cute is that???



Christmas morning, 1:00am

Every Christmas Eve we get the kids to bed, I head into the Christmas Eve Service that starts at 11:00pm, and then when we get home after a bit of prep work I take a picture of our Christmas Tree, post-Santa. Santa's gifts are wrapped in the candy cane looking paper, no bows. Because of course bows would be a hindrance in packing a big red back full of gifts. Santa is a very practical man that way, I'm fairly sure of it. According to the phone conversation my brother, Fireball, had with Santa at 8pm on Christmas Eve, we were lucky he made it to Edwardsport at all. Apparently there was an incident with another aircraft in Sydney, Australia. Unfortunately there was significant damage including the deaths of two reindeer, however Santa's elves saved the day by flying in replacements and quickly. It was a scary time for three little ones for a while, but were quickly reassured by the twinkling of lights in the night sky- obviously from Santa's sleigh.

Christmas morning, 1:30am

The kids rush into our bedroom announcing that Santa has arrived. Please note the time on the above picture... 1:00am. Obviously, we were in no position to be starting Christmas morning already. I tried to coax the kids back into bed, but frankly they were on Christmas Crack and it wasn't happening... so I finally settled for tucking them in on the couch to watch "A Christmas Story" play all night on TBS until I could finally coax their father out of bed. I lay in my room, listening to their giggling speculation as to what may be in the packages wrapped underneath the tree. It must have been a unique sort of torture to have to sit there, feet away from the dream, but unable to do anything about it until Papa Bear awoke from his slumber.

Christmas morning, 4am

Jim gives in at 3:45 and tells the kids that when the current showing of Ralphie is over, we will do presents. The adrenaline level in our house immediately exceeds anything previously recorded by science. The look on Zach's face truly says it all- part ecstatic child, part madman. They were so great opening gifts, though. Taking turns watching each other open every gift. Dancing with excitement as one of us opened a present from them. It was cool to see them as excited about giving as receiving. It was also a special year because we did not go insane on Christmas. No huge gifts, no major expenses. We really made our best effort to focus on the real reason for the season and not get caught up in outgifting the rest of the world. We spent half of what we did last year, and you know what... the kids didn't even notice.

Christmas morning, 4:30am
We couldn't resist these rawhide candy canes for the puppies. Here is Lily unwrapping hers. I know, there's something a little warped about having one picture each of my kids unwrapping gifts and two pictures of the dog- but admit it, you are melting with the cuteness of these pictures right now.

Christmas morning 5:30am

The last gift left was mine. I was dying to know what it was... yet wanted to keep the mystery alive as long as possible. And yes, I was brought to tears when I opened it and realized that Jim had gotten me the Willow Tree Nativity. So fitting, I realized, as the Lord had called me to share a message about Mary just the night before at the Christmas Eve Service. I argued with Him long and hard about it- talking amongst friends, no problem, even sitting at a table leading a discussion is okay... but standing in front of people on a night as special as Christmas Eve. I'm just not good enough for something like that. Moreover, I just didn't want to go out on a limb. But my amazing sister, Beverly, wasn't going to let me go down like that, and held me accountable to God's call- so I contacted Seth. Truth is, I'm not good enough for something like this... but God is. And He's never let me down before and this evening was no exception. As I opened my gift Christmas morning and looked at the beautifully sculpted mother and child, I praised the Lord again for not letting me ignore Him. How awful would I have felt had I continued to be steadfast in my disobedience and then opened that gift? Now I have a beautiful memory of God's faithfulness tied with an already beautiful nativity.

Christmas morning, 6am

This is my husband, taunting the Christmas tree. That's right. He's taunting a tree. Within minutes of the last bow being thrown away, Jim was trying to decide if he could have the tree out of the house before we left for my mom's house (at 10am). The kids and I tried to talk him out of it, but once the taunting began I knew we were fighting a losing battle. We decided instead to silently protest by not assisting. In fact, I went to sleep. Tali played for a while and then also dozed off. Zach was still going hard on the Christmas Crack and promptly wrote on his brand new football jersey with marker, mixed the various colors of Moon Sand together to make a nice shade of teal, and realized that his toy shotgun really doesn't eject the shells that great.

Christmas morning, 8am

In the interest of honesty, I did not take this picture at 8am. Because I was still sleeping at 8am. And no matter how badly he wanted me to get up and take his picture proudly throwing the tree off the porce at 8am, I was not going to do it. So he took a picture on his cell phone at this time to prove that he had, in fact, broken all land-speed-Christmas-un-decorating records by having the tree down AND out of the house before breakfast. This shot also gives you a nice reference for just how ridiculously large our tree was this year. I'm curious what the neighbors thought as they drove by and saw the tree already out? Can you just imagine some of the thoughts that must have gone through their minds? It's okay, though, because this feat put Jim in one of the best Christmas Day moods I have ever seen... so it was worth the sacrifice.

Christmas day, 11am

We head into moms around 10:45am. Fireball, Hillary, and Molly arrived very shortly thereafter (also a Christmas miracle). I could not WAIT for Fireball to open this gift from me- a sock monkey- known to our family as "Monkedee". To explain briefly, Fireball hijacked my sock monkey as a child and literally loved it til it fell to pieces. Mom mended and mended and mended that silly thing, but finally Fireball had loved it to death. I nearly cried when I saw one on the store this Christmas Season, and Fireball's reaction totally lived up to my expectations. He now sleeps with Monkedee again. Sorry about that Hillary.

Santa also brought Tali some pink temporary hair dye/spray/stuff. She couldn't wait to share it with Molly. They make pink hair look GOOD.

Christmas Day 3-7:30pm

At 2:45 we headed out to Don and Susan's, where we met up with Jason, Brooke, Jason and Kolten as well. Complete Christmas Madness broke loose- you have never seen so much flying tissue paper, torn wrapping paper, bows flying, and children jumping. It was magical. It was a gift opening free-for-all. No orderly one-at-a-time gift opening for this clan!!!! After dinner Tali and Kaden decorated a Gingerbread house. Zach unfortunately missed both dinner and Gingerbread fun as Christmas Crack only lasts sixteen hours.

Christmas evening, 5:30pm

We all knew something was up when Zach announced he didn't want to eat supper. One minute he was racing through the house on his little bike, and the next he was in the kitchen making this grand statement. Zach not wanting to eat? I knew it had happened- he had finally ran out of steam. I told him he could lay on the couch if he needed, and by the time I followed him into the living room he was already piling pillows and blankets. Within five minutes- here he was. One thing is for sure, Zach got the most out of his Christmas day- going full tilt from 1:30am onwards. A full day of giving and receiving gifts, joyously thanking everyone, loving on his mommy and daddy, and waiting in anticipation for the next stop on his own personal little Christmas treasure hunt.

Looking back over these pictures, I realize we all made the most of this Christmas season- parades, performances, trees, friends, church, family... and eventually gifts. There's even more that I couldn't fit in here. More blessings than a person can recount in a single sitting. But here you have a few of the highlights. Thanks for indulging me in my memories.

Merry Christmas.

i do too, mary... i do too

I've been really lucky to get to help out in Zach's classroom some lately, and it's been such a blessing to get to see him in his element, to get to know his friends, and to see how excited he is to have me involved. Last Thursday his excitement bubbled over as he saw me walk into the classroom... as I got about halfway to his desk, he couldn't wait another second, flashing a pink piece of paper at me, he proudly proclaimed "Look what Mary gave me!"... no sooner were the words out of his mouth and the little note was already stashed back in his desk. Mary has been a friend of Zach's since preschool, in fact he started calling her his girlfriend not long after they met. I was curious as to whether or not Mary knew of this (after all, that happens alot in the single-digit crowd), but her mom quickly confirmed for me that she heard just as much about my little man as I did about her little girl. Relationships among five-year-old are of the fickle sort, however, so I didn't give much thought to it.

Until a couple of weeks ago in the classroom. We were making turkeys on that day, and Joseph said "hey Becky, you better help your daughter"... smiling I informed him that Zach was my son and I didn't have a daughter in that class. As I walked away to get some supplies I heard Mary say "that's not my mom" and he informed her that he thought Zach was her brother. She promptly put him in his place "we are boyfriend and girlfriend, not brother and sister!" I could barely contain myself it was so cute!


Anyway, last week we got busy with papers, math bingo, centers and preparing to go home. The little note all but forgotten by yours truly.


But not so by Zach.

As soon as we got home, he pulled it out and asked me to read it to him. I have to be honest, the first two lines were a little tricky to translate (Mary is, after all, in kindergarten). The third however, was clear as can be...

I like the green color

I like the green color

I like the ZACH

-Mary

(note also the picture of the little Zach and Mary,

complete with two little hearts)

Honestly, you are melting right now aren't you? "I like the ZACH". Mary's obviously not your "do you like me, circle yes or no" kind of girl. She knows what she likes and she's willing to go for it. I like her already.

We hear a lot about Mary. We have a Mary Mii on our Wii. We have her school picture pinned to Zach's bulletin board. And now we have this proclamation of affection pinned right next to it. It makes me smile to see Zach coming into his own. Establishing friendships, being confident in his own skin, being Zach. I'm not quite ready for the world of girlfriends... but if he has to have one, I'm glad it's Mary. We have obviously have similar taste... because I'm pretty fond of the Zach too.

Mary and Zach at Preschool Graduation. May 2008.

friday flashback

This is one of my very favorite pictures every of Tali and Zach. I took it in 2006, the day that the Boyles family went digital. I was so excited about my new camera (at the time a Sony Cybershot) and was determined to get "the money shot". I got tons of great pictures that day, but just could not get both of the kids to look at me and smile so that I would have one of them together. Finally, just as I was about to give up, Zach hopped on his bike. I asked Tali to try "one more time" for the picture (which she actually knows means as many pics as it takes to get the shot)... she walked over, put her arm around him, and BAM... there it was. We were having so much fun that day, and you can see that in their unusually genuine smiles... Tali with her sweet little smirk and Zach showing off every pearly white in his head. This is how T & Z look at their happiest, most contented, peaceful moments. This was the last picture I took that day. Mission complete. Seriously, aren't they they the cutest kids ever?

mother of the year

It's the moment you've been waiting for, blogerotsky. That's right, I finally have pictures of my amazing little man being tortured on the child-sized version of the Liberty Launcher at Holiday World. I know it's sadistic. I know I run the risk of being turned in to CPS. I know that he will one day use this blog post against me in an effort to get me to pay his therapy bills. Yet here, for your viewing pleasure... a photo blog.

Tali loved the "bouncy ride". Over and over she would get out of the seat, run around the front, and get immediately back into line. She rode it at least a dozen times, squealing with every little drop and bounce.

Meanwhile Zach happily waited in line and then rode the very safe, very slow, ride attendant right in the water with you, bumper boats. Despite my attempts to explain to him that he could easily ride the "bouncy ride" with Tali and still get in on the next round of the boats, he would have none of it.

Bumper boat craving satisfied, Zach still did not want to ride with sissy... until Grandma B offered to get him blue cotton candy if he tried it. The boy has a price. And it's apparently blue cotton candy. In this instance I felt perfectly okay with the bribery. Zach had been hesitant to ride anything new all day long, and liked each of the rides after he'd given them a chance. I can't say as much for the bribery that would come later.

Tali, now a professional rider, helped him get situated. Note the look of apprehension on his face.

Fake smiles ensued.

His smile [albeit fake] didn't last long, however....

are you ready for this?

[wait for it]

[wait for it]

Shamefully, mom and I laughed so hard we were in tears. He was trying so hard to be brave... doing everything in his power to fight the tears... and I, mother of the year, found humor in that. At least his sister was concerned about him.

Even more shamefully, after telling his daddy and Grandpa B [who were riding the Raven during this time] about this moment, they began to scheme. And their scheme included a monetary incentive for Zach to ride the ride again. That's right, Zach has a price. And it's apparently blue cotton candy OR $6. The ride was no better for him the second time. But he will NOT admit he was afraid. "It was pun" is his answer. My brave little man.

Courage is doing what you're afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared.
Eddie Rickenbacker

He was definitely afraid. But he did it anyway. And he DID NOT cry. And I promise, I will never let anyone bribe him to do it again. Because I already got all the pictures I need! LOL