Ever feel that when you are about to embark on something "good," something "kingdom," that you come under attack? As if the forces of darkness have focused on what you're doing and are clearly wanting you to stop? I have felt that way a lot lately. In fact, it's happened with uncanny regularity when I am about to lead worship somewhere--Sunday morning praise team, Wednesday nights with the band, Thursdays downtown where we fight for spiritual atmosphere. Something is coming against this mission to sing songs of loudest praise...or at least sing them genuinely.

It finally came to a head about a month ago. Not just one of the kids, not just one of the spouses, but all of us took our turn. The first rattle out of the chute that Wednesday morning it had begun. All day long and at every turn--fighting, disagreement, anger...sadness. Not the things we're fighting for. When it was finally time to leave for church, I sat everyone down and, at the end my rope, I unloaded, I accused, I blamed. Because it was their fault that I had no joy, it was their fault I had no song in my heart. It was their fault I was wrecked and empty. Right?

We began the quiet drive across town and I stewed. All I could think was, "I CAN'T lead worship tonight!" My mind reeled with ways to get out of this. But what would I say? "No, I didn't break my guitar on the way over. No, I don't have laryngitis. I'm just in a really bad mood!" How can I sing about the joy of the Lord when I... wait a minute... what was that... the joy of the what? I'm at James River Freeway and Glenstone when the Holy Spirit whispers it somewhere deep inside of me. "The Joy of the... LORD." No, not the joy of obedient children, not the joy of agreement with my wife, not the joy of being a good dad and husband, not the joy of a day to day lifestyle, but the joy of the Lord! And what about Him has changed in the past 8 hours?! What has separated me from His love, from His promises?! Nothing has. Nothing can! I've known these things in my head, but they're coming alive right now. I've been calling this attack for how long? But it's starting to make sense, it's starting to look like...like...revelation. What has my joy really been based on all this time?!

From the time she was a tiny girl, I knew she wanted to teach children in other countries. We had talked many times about a college major that would allow her to do that. It was Saturday afternoon, and we were in the car traveling to Searcy for Winter Preview, talking about her goals. She has been saying for the last two years she wants to major in Bible and minor in Missions. I have been responding with the usual “parent” arguments: what will you do for a job? How many churches will hire a female youth or family minister? Most churches are cutting back on full time missionaries, how do you know you will be the one chosen for the positions that are available? Honestly, are we really going to commit to $100,000 for your education and at the end of it, we still don’t know that you will have a job? Won’t you just turn out to be like so many others who go to school and marry the guy who will be the minister, or the missionary?

Through all of this, she just smiled and let me fret. “Mom, it’s what I want to do. I believe it’s what God wants me to do. He will take care of me.” Argghhh. How do you argue with that?

So I prayed. “God, you gave me this child. There have been times I didn’t know how I would take care of her. So many times I have wanted to be able to do more for her. Please show me what else I need to teach her. Help me find the words to encourage her to go into one of the other majors we have talked about where her life can have more security. Let her see the direction she needs to go while we are here this weekend.” (You got that whole rewriting the scriptures to say, “Not Thy will, but mine,” right?)

For the rest of the drive and the next two days, we just enjoyed being together. On Monday morning, we went to the parents’ breakfast and listened to the speeches. I watched her absorb all the information with excitement. I could see by the look on her face that all of this was becoming real to her, and she had no fear, only hope and confidence. Just what I had prayed for.

Then we went to the Ministry and Missions building to meet Dr. Monte Cox. I sat back and watched as she had her first college interview. The more she talked, the more excited she got, and I could see what others have seen before. When she is animated about something, she moves her hands just like I do. Her eyes lit up, and her face was glowing. Like Mary, I put these things in my heart to ponder later. As we were leaving, I knew this is where she would be spending the majority of her time. I looked at Dr. Cox and said, “This is my only child. I am entrusting her to you.” He smiled back as though I wasn’t the first mom who had said that to him.

From there, we went to learn about the Study Abroad program. She was so excited about going to Greece, I thought she was going to fly out of the chair and head over there on her own steam. By the time we got to lunch, I felt like I was holding onto a kite that wanted to fly away. She had made her choice, and was so excited about it.

For the first part of the four hour drive home, I tried one more time to convince her to major in one of the other areas that showed promise on her aptitude test:  education, psychology, history—basically anything but Bible. All my words were falling on deaf ears. Finally she said the one thing that closed my mouth. “Mom, my whole life I have watched you take risks and go where God wanted you to without knowing where the money was going to come from. We have never been rich, but we have been happy, and God has provided. If you have faith like that, why shouldn’t I?” What do you say when your own child hits you upside the head with that kind of logic?

So as she slept, I prayed. And I listened. This is what I feel God revealed to me in the last two hours of that silent trip. I wanted her to do something secure so she could rely on her degree to get a job. She wanted to answer the cry of her heart and go where she felt God was leading her. I wanted her to use logic and try to control her own destiny. She wanted to fling herself into the arms of something bigger than both of us, and be swept away by a life filled with passion and joy, even if it was hard. I wanted her to trust in things she could see, and she wanted to live a life of faith. A life, she said, she saw in me. I was humbled and proud at the same time. I was being given the chance to give her my blessing—something I wish my parents had given me. I felt God reminding me of the time she was very little and had told me after church she was going to go far, far away to teach babies that Jesus loved them. I thought of all the places she has been and all the things she has already done to prepare her for that. I heard the words of God speaking to Jeremiah about his plans not to harm but to prosper, and I felt peace.

When she woke up, she put her hand in mine and said, “What’s wrong, Mom?”

I said, “I am really proud of you, and your decision to be a Bible major with a minor in Missions. You will love that, and I know God will show you His plan for you. You have my blessing, and my support.” She has been walking on air ever since.

I’m a control freak.  I want to know what the plan is, who will be involved, what time things are happening, and I want those facts set in stone.  I don’t like unexpected change, and I SURE don’t like my already set plans to be interrupted or changed by somebody else.  Sometimes those plans are assumptions or expectations that I am unaware of until they are challenged or changed.

The Lord has been telling me for a long time that I need to release this desire for control.  He has been helping me see that my need to control is a self-protective behavior—a desire to protect myself from pain or disappointment.  He has been telling me that I can trust Him with my heart.  He has been reminding me that what I think is mine is really His.  I’d like to share a day in my life when He communicated these things very directly to me.

September 2011 arrived and Curt’s 16th birthday came and went.  I always assumed that he would eventually get a driver’s license; he’d been driving me around for many months since I tore my Achilles tendon almost a year before. So it didn’t seem like a big deal to me when he asked if we could go downtown for him to take the test.  He drove me into Springfield and practiced parallel parking for good measure.  He took the test, had his photo taken, paid the fees, and became the proud recipient of an official driver’s license.  We drove home and I listened as Curt told me all about his driving test.

We ate lunch and continued on with our school day.  In the afternoon, Curt asked if he could go to the Y to lift.  “Sure, what time do you want to go?” I asked.

“Well, I was thinking that I could just drive myself.”  Curt replied.  “What time do I need to be back?”

Startled by the realization that he really could go without me, I stumbled over my words and gave my consent.  I don’t remember my exact words, but I am sure they were about being safe and being aware of other drivers.

Hidden behind the curtain, I watched him back out of the driveway and head down the street.  With tears streaming down my face, I said, “Oh, God, I really am out of control now.  I know in my head that I’ve never truly been in control, but You are making that abundantly clear to my heart now.” I had never faced the fact that Curt would drive away, no longer needing my help to get him anywhere.  It caught me off-guard, and I could do nothing about it.

Curt returned home safe and sound that day, and life continued to move on.  I wish that I could say that I am over the control bug now.  Not so much.  I am making progress, though, and the Lord is giving me more and more opportunities to release my plans and expectations over to Him.  Curt is the Lord’s and I can trust the Lord with him and with my heart.

Our refrigerator isn’t working right.  It keeps things just cool enough to not go bad (for the most part), but not cold enough to enjoy the milk.  The freezer will keep things already frozen, but won’t make the ice cream hard.  Very frustrating.

A few weeks ago we called the repair man.  He gave us very simple advice: “Take everything out of the fridge, unplug it, and leave the doors open for 12 hours.”  Easy enough to do, but that is not what a wanted him to say.  I wanted him to say, “I can be there at 3:30 to take a look and see if it can be fixed.”

I wanted to pay him to fix it.  I didn’t think that I had the time or energy to clean out my fridge and let it sit open for 12 hours.  Now, 3 weeks later, our milk is still mildly cool, the lunch meat has gone bad, and the ice cream is still soft.  I have not done the simple task of unplugging my fridge.  So, we called the repairman again.  Maybe it was to see if he had changed his mind and would come even if we hadn’t followed his advice.  Maybe it was to hear his words again, to be convinced that it was worth my time to follow.

It is crazy that I do the same thing with God.  He gives me very simple things to do:  “Love me, follow me, devour me like food.”  He doesn’t ask me to do the impossible like a triple gainer off of the diving board.  He just wants me to know Him and hang out with Him.  But I don’t think that I have the time or the energy to sit down and read His word or to get up a bit earlier to talk to Him.  I have convinced myself that if I don’t get enough sleep, I will be grumpy, that I need that sleep more than I need what God will give me through time spent with Him. So, just like I am living with mildly cool milk, I live with anger that seems to come out of nowhere, selfish desires that push away my husband and children, pride that makes me defensive when I am wrong.

Just like my desire for the repairman to come over and fix my fridge without me putting out any effort, I want Jesus to fix me with out any effort on my part.  I want him to take away all of the yucky stuff in me.  I want him to carve out my selfishness and my pride.  I want him to make me fantastic all the time.

But herein lies the problem: I want to be selfless toward others while still living selfishly toward Jesus.  He won’t let it work that way.  Jesus tells us that our first command is to love Him and the second is to love others.  I must become selfless toward Jesus before I can become selfless and kind toward others.

I am tired of eating soft ice cream.  I am tired of drinking cool milk.  Today I am cleaning out my fridge and unplugging it.  I pray that I will also become so tired of my self, my pride, and my anger that I will start on the work that the Lord has for me also--listening to Him, devouring Him, being with Him, loving Him, obeying Him.

(P.S. We followed the repairman’s advice--we obeyed--and our fridge works like new.  We have ice-cold milk again!)

Sometimes you enter church activities expecting, "This should be a fun experience."  Sometimes, as a father or mother, you enter activities thinking, "This should be great for my kids."  No matter what you go in expecting, it always seems God has something different in mind.

I went into the family retreat with both of these expectations.  And, as always, God had other plans.  He went beyond my expectations of family fun.  I reconnected with my step-daughter.  I saw my wife's eyes open to new views of Jesus that really resonated with her.  I experienced others treating my son like Jesus would, with open arms and warm hearts.  I had an honest and real encounter with God right when it was needed.

“Retreat” is such an appropriate term for the weekend we had.  Retreating from my iPhone.  Retreating from the television.  Retreating from the honey-do lists.  Retreating to a place of just family, friends, and time well-spent getting to know Jesus at every stage of His life.

It seems in every good movie when the troops yell "Retreat!" they regroup and at some point yell, "Charge!"  After the retreat, we're now refocused, recharged, and ready to get back into the battle.

Then the day comes when they are ready to head off to college, and panic sets in.  While Thomas was more than ready to leave the nest, I definitely was feeling joy, panic, excitement, fear, and was asking, "How am I going to live without him in my life daily?"  I have to admit I was selfish.  I think many days I was more worried about how I would cope than how Thomas would do at Harding.

We have both experienced our own growing pains since he left for school.  He is figuring out how to live independent of mom and dad’s watchful eyes, and we, or at least I, am learning to live without seeing his amazing smile or talking to him about all the things we would talk about.  He is growing up and finding his own path in the world.  That gives me happiness, because that is what I have always wanted for him.

Talking to him helps so much with dealing with my “not needed” feeling.  Hearing what he is doing and who he is spending time with reminds me that I must have done something right while raising him.  I sense some learning and maturing in him that fills me with pride.  And I am reminded by him that I am still needed and important to him, but the relationship is different.  He is becoming a man, and while he will always be my baby, he has to make his own choices and choose his own path.  Thomas and I have both had to learn (or maybe re-learn) to trust that God is in control, and all things are possible when we let Him lead.

I still have days that I miss him terribly, or wonder if I did enough to prepare him for life after 18, but recently I have been reminded by God that Thomas is His child first and mine second.  He is following the calling of his heart, the heart given to him by God, and led by God.  How can I argue with that?

So I pray for peace for my heart and Thomas’ heart.  We will both survive these growing pains.   And I am trying to let God remind me it is not about me or my wants or desires, but about the amazing things He has already done for us.  Thomas does a much better job of this than I do many days…and that makes me smile.

Very early in life, I held the realization that I was surrounded by boys.  I have three brothers who were always there because we did everything together.  I loved my brothers and understood them.  We would go on pretend dates where I would teach them my version of “how to treat a lady” or “how to make a girl feel like a princess”.  I told them it was their job to protect, guide and respect any girl that was in their presence.  My girlfriends at school and church, well, let’s just say, I didn’t understand them.  God and I had a deal that when I became a mother, He would give me boys.

There was a time, in 2001 when the boys were six and eight, that Mark and I got a crash course in how today’s culture was going to infiltrate our family.  We felt a strong urgency about the spiritual warfare that our boys would have to face and a responsibility to prepare them a.s.a.p.  We began at this time an intentional journey to put people in our boys’ lives on whom they could depend.  We knew that what we had to give them was not going to be enough to prepare them for this world.  A friend suggested a book, Raising a Modern-Day Knight, by Robert Lewis.  This book gave us many truths to hold on to, such as, “Parents cannot, as they once did, rely on the culture to reinforce home values.  In fact, they can expect that many of the cultural forces influencing their children will be actively undermining those values.”  The main premise of the book is teaching our boys a Code of Conduct and placing a priority on being actively intentional about preparing our boys to follow a Code of Conduct.  The book uses examples from medieval knighthood.

A knight is first a page then a squire apprentice.  In these stages that typically begin around age seven; a page begins spending time with other men.  He is shown and trained how to be a man.  The definition of a man, as given by the book, is one who “rejects passivity, accepts responsibility, leads courageously, and expects the greater reward…God’s reward”.  A knight is primarily taught loyalty, is expected to “conduct himself like a champion”, is expected to “win the love of a woman” and is required to “practice generosity”.  There were rites of passage given to boys on their way to knighthood.  You will have to read the book to learn more about knighthood but here is what we did:

Starting with age ten, Mark chose two other men to join him and our sons for dinner.  He welcomed the boys into the world of men.  The other men would be available to our boys as godly examples they could look to through life.  These men were given permission and were charged with holding our boys accountable to what they were being taught.  We chose to give them a brass compass as a gift to commemorate this ceremony.  Side note: Our family has a collection of compasses to remind us that with God as our “North” we can know which direction we should go to find our way.

At age thirteen, Mark led the boys through a study called Preparing your Young Son for Every Man’s Battle by Stephen Arterburn and Fred Stoeker.  This book is designed to be read by the father and son together.  There is a section of the book that reads as a conversation with Stephen and his son.  This book is strongly recommended as one of the best tools we used for teaching sexual integrity to our boys.

At age fifteen, we held a purity ceremony where we gave a gift to our boys that would be kept and given to their brides on their wedding day.  We included an elder and his wife as well as another couple who they could look to as a godly example of marriage.  On the stage of the auditorium, where he will one day vow himself to his wife, we said vows to each other.  The other couples vowed to pray for our boys’ strength to overcome temptations and to be examples to them.  As parents, Mark and I vowed to be a support to them as they fight temptations and strive to remain pure for their future mates.  Then our boys gave a vow to remain pure for their future mates and children.  We all signed a statement contract as physical representation of our vows.

At age eighteen, we held a banquet in our son’s honor.  We invited everyone we felt God had given a positive role in his life.  There were about 45 people in attendance.  We had a meal that was prepared by his grandmothers.  The tables were set with linens and centerpieces; it was a dress-up occasion.  A Bible was purchased to commemorate this ceremony and was signed with encouragement from everyone who attended.  The ceremony consisted of passing this Bible from person to person in the room; as Marshall has been touched by everyone that was in the room, so was the Bible that was presented to him.  Myron Mizell was asked to bless Marshall with his definition of a godly man and to offer his advice for the future.  His Grandpa Chainey prayed for Marshall to remember what he had learned about being a godly man.  His Grandma Chainey then blessed Marshall with examples of the kind of boy he has been; she told stories that showed his character.  Grandpa Young then prayed for Marshall’s future.  Mark and I wrote a “blessing” to Marshall that was read in the ceremony. The blessing reminded him of who he belongs to as he enters into adulthood.  A banquet will be held for Mathieu in a couple of years that will be similar.

We have plans to create a family crest that will be hung in our home with duplicates made for our boys that will be given to them when they start their own families.

We have taken every opportunity we could to teach our boys to be responsible for their actions and to be intentional about relationships.  We have taken time to actively be involved in their friends’ lives.  We have provided family dating for them as they learn how to date responsibly with boundaries they can trust.  We have placed a priority on teaching them grace.  There’s a good book about that too, Grace Based Parenting by Tim Kimmel that we highly recommend, but that’s another topic all together.

If you have a son, love him and teach him.  He needs you.  If you have a son who is a teenager, he really, really needs you to help him survive.

In His Grace and Mercy that is new every morning,

Mark and Missy Young

As a parent, we have lots of ways to pass-on our knowledge, wisdom (and bad habits) to our kids.  When they are young, they were hanging on our every word and action…almost as if learning to put a close-pin on the bag to keep the cereal fresh was life changing advice to them.  Those were the glory years when mom and dad were both brilliant and totally cool.

However, most of us know what happens to that brilliant, cool mom or dad when independence, teenage schedules and BFF’s take over.  Those “teachable moments” that seemed to be infinite and everywhere when they were young quickly become elusive to find and sometimes even unwelcome when attempted.  You sometimes get this nagging feeling that there is so much more to teach your child, but opportunities are drying up and time is running out.

Enter the Youth Group Trip.  Take that child who has little time for advice (and probably knows everything anyway) and put them in an alien environment for one week.  Some amazing things often begin to happen.  All the sudden, my teenager is coming to me for advice or conversation every few hours instead of every few days.  All the sudden, the shared experiences of struggling with speaking Spanish or lifting a 70 pound backpack is something we are physically sharing together and emotionally sharing how to cope.

Those teachable moments that elude us at home are once again everywhere and mostly appreciated by our normally all-knowing teenagers.   What’s more, this renewed bonding and camaraderie has an after-effect that lasts for weeks or months after the actual Youth Group Trip ends.   I have been on multiple backpacking, canoeing and mission trips with my son and I will continue to go with him every chance I get because I’m convinced these trips compact months of bonding and teaching into five or six precious days that we will both remember for a lifetime.

Our recent trip to Honduras was a wonderful capstone event to years of intentional parenting.  In Honduras, we shared struggles with fear, compared techniques about physical work and new relationships and explored more examples of God’s grace in our lives.  Evan came home from Honduras with a lot to think about and a week later was ready to be baptized…in large part due to growth and conversations we enjoyed that never would have occurred in the distractions and busy schedules of American city life.

The next time the youth group plans a trip, especially a trip away from cell phones and normal city life, please do not miss the opportunity to not only send but join your teenager in the experience.  You will personally come home smarter and cooler (in their eyes) than you ever thought you would be again and that nagging feeling that time is running out will diminish every time you go.

I understand the concept of spin class - that it is my workout and that only I can determine what I can do. I control my level of exertion. Yes, there is a leader for the class. She tells me what to do, when to work harder, when to spin faster. But I don’t know if I am working as hard as her or any one else in the class, even though we are in the same room following the same instructions.

When I run by myself, I can watch my pace. I can compare that to previous runs that I have done. I can compare that to other people’s paces - even to the world champion’s. If I was on a real bike, I could compare myself to Lance Armstrong. But in spin class, the numbers on my odometer do not provide me with a direct comparison to another rider or even my last spin class.

That is very frustrating for me. I want to know how I compare with those around me. It makes me work harder if I feel like I am “losing,” and it makes me feel good about myself when I see me “winning” against them. If I notice someone who spins faster, I can set a goal to reach that time. I can work on getting faster and stronger. But in spin, I must learn to trust what is going on inside of me. I must pay attention to the more fine-tuned details of my exertion - my breathing, the way I pull/push my foot through the cycle. I must know what I am capable of and not rely on my neighbors' capabilities.

I find the same temptations happen to me in life. I find myself comparing myself to others - to you. You name it, I can compare it. For me, parenting is one of the worst areas of comparisons. Do I discipline my kids differently than you? Do I shelter my kids too much? Am I too lax on my kids? Am I as fun a parent as you? Do I give my kids as many opportunities as you do? Basically, I am asking, “Am I as good a mom as you?”

Truly, I have no idea if I parent well or not. I don’t even know if there can be“parent well” mark. I want to believe that I am a little better-than-average mother. So, I want to compare myself to others so that I can either feel good about myself or put pressure on myself to do better. That is when I get caught in the strong teeth of the comparison trap. I can become ensnared by pride and self-loathing, neither of them a benefit to my family or me.

The things that I am learning in spin class about comparing myself to other riders, hopefully will transfer to what I am learning about comparing myself to other parents. In spin, I cannot compare myself to those around me because the odometers don’t measure intensity or effort. They only measure how many times my feet spin. I can win the race as the fastest spinner, but what good does that do me if I get no benefit from my spinning?

How I parent is the similar. I can win the race for the busiest mom by comparing my schedule to others’. Are my kids in as many classes or sports as yours? Do I volunteer as many hours in a month as you? Do I attend as many church events as you? Do I let my kids have friends over as much as you? Do I write my kids letters and give them presents as often as you? But that is just like the odometer on a spin bike. It measures how many times my feet move around the circle, but it does not measure the quality of my time or the actual engagement that I am able to have while at an event.

As much as I would like to compare myself to you - to see if I am competent, lazy or amazing - I cannot. We are not comparable. We are on different bikes. We are created differently, each with our own personality and set of circumstances. I have to do the harder work. I have to look deep inside myself and notice what is really going on. Only I, with the counsel of the Spirit, my husband, and perhaps the counsel of other Christ-seeking parents, can determine the quality of my time that I give to my family or the amount of engagement I have while I am with my children. I am in charge of how I love my kids. I get to choose what I give to my kids. How much attention, patience, wisdom and love I pour on them is up to me. I believe that is why God tells us to work like we are working for Him and not for man (Colossians 3:23). I must live free of the need to compare. I must take my feelings of competency and worth from the Lord, not from others.

I believe this. I know this. But, man, it is hard. Just as I too often find myself sneaking peaks at my neighbor’s spin bike odometer- seeing if I am spinning as fast as they, even though I know it means nothing- so I can slip into the desire to compare myself to you.

“Lord, help me to trust Your work in my life so much that I don’t feel the need to compare or contrast my life to those around me. Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.”

When I attend a funeral and hear positive, affirming words spoken, I ask the same question. Did this person know their family and friends felt that way about them? 29 years ago, my dad sat next to me at his mother’s funeral. Understandably, he was weeping, but also repeating over and over, “She was such a good woman.” She; however, would be surprised to know he felt that way. He never told her. He seldom showed her. Unfortunately, the one who needed to hear those words didn’t.

Since that time, I have resolved to make sure those I love know I love them. Sounds simple enough. Lots of ways to show it; meals prepared, laundry washed, babysitting done, graduations and weddings attended, service offered, counsel given. ‘Actions speak louder than words’ is true, but words are powerful as well. So, I say them. “I love you”, of course, but also, “I’m proud of you” and “I’m glad God gave you to me”. As I have set out to be a speaker of love, I have had to think intentionally and critically about WHY this person is significant and special. It has been good for me. My eyes are being trained to notice simple acts of greatness (Zeke fist pumping the weakest link on the baseball team and telling him good job) as well as the obvious big ones (Levi emptying his savings account so that his sister could study abroad for a semester).

As adults, we have our heads full of messages—some true, but just as many false— about our identity. To articulate truth about a person gives them a powerful weapon against Satan’s lies—and oh my, how he lies to us. That weapon (truth of why they are loveable) is a gift they can use over and over. When our children were young, we were the primary contributor to their identity. They believed about themselves what we told them and showed them. As they have moved toward adulthood the voices speaking about their value and worth are many and often loud. Pray to and Praise God about that reality. Pray to the Father that he protect their hearts from the voices that do not line up with the Spirit. Teachers, coaches, classmates, and bosses are powerful influences to our children’s identity. But also, praise him for using others to bring truth and shaping into your child’s life. Our family learned early on what a blessing it was for our girls to have adult relationships beyond Larry and me. Linda Brown was able to speak words of truth when Jess was unable or unwilling to hear from us. Jenny Pace listened to Kate unburden her heart, when I was the last person Kate wanted to talk to.

One way we have planted truth in our children about their identity is thru our “Birthday Blessings”. Simply, each year on their birthday, we have a birthday dinner followed by a time of blessing. This celebration and ritual started when they turned 12. The circle has been filled with family, of course, but also significant friends. Each person present has an opportunity to speak words of encouragement, hope for the future, favorite memory, and observed growth in character or challenge that was overcome. These powerful words have helped our children know a few things.
1. They are loved, valued, appreciated, but also they are noticed. Their life matters. They are making a difference.
2. In spite of mistakes or shortcomings, their successes are celebrated. This was especially valuable when we were going thru a challenging time with Jessica. So much of the year was filled with disappointment and conflict. It was good for us to speak about what was positive and true in the midst of hardship.
3. Even though they may not be there yet, those that know them best see potential. There is hope for life beyond where they are currently.

Birthday Blessings have become a significant part of our family’s traditions. When Kate’s 6th grade teacher asked what her favorite birthday present was, she said, “My blessing.” Certainly, words of affirmation spoken only once a year won’t cut it; won’t compete against what the world is saying about our kids. So begin today, letting them know. Tell them what you value in them often and specifically. But also, consider a time of focused blessing that feels weightier than your regular words of love and praise.

A Mother’s Reflections

    It is safe to say in our home, we live life. Like most parents, Stuart and I have expectations for our children as they grow up and become more independent. We want our children to be confident as they leave home, knowing the roots that have been planted are still in place, yet the wings are there also to help them fly. For me, the difficult part of this process has been trusting God as this independence unfolds. What follows is a brief reflection of my thoughts about our oldest son leaving home, and how I am growing through this process.

    Our oldest child, Zach, graduated from high school in 2009. During Zach’s high school years, Stuart would often encourage Zach to “go see the world!” My initial reaction to this was “Are you kidding me? He needs to graduate high school, go to college, get a job, get married…” Often times with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat, my heart would secretly mourn the physical distance this independence might bring should he act upon his Dad’s advice.

    After completing a year at OC, it was not a surprise to us when Zach shared his desire to move to Colorado Springs in August of 2010. So, with a trailer half loaded of his necessities (and everything else I, as his mother, felt he needed) we helped Zach move into a one bedroom apartment, with no roommate. He did not know anyone in this new city but his girlfriend (a sweet young lady he met at OC) and her family. Talk about a tough moment for a parent. I remember our conversations as we moved Zach in over the course of a few days. I talked with him about being safe & finances while his dad made sure he knew where his tools and the nearest automotive store were. However, what I remember most vividly is the Sunday morning we sat on his couch, Zach dressed for church and us ready to travel back to Missouri, and praying together. I could hardly speak the words on my heart to our Father; I was overcome with such emotion as I released our son to the world.

    Today, Zach currently lives near Denver, Colorado and started work with Halliburton in January of 2011. He felt going to work full time was the best thing for him to do at this time since he is undecided about a career path. Yes, there are many miles between us and the lump in my throat has been replaced with a swelling of pride in my heart. I am proud of Zach because he is doing what he wants to do and living where he wants to live. He went to OC for one year, which in all honesty was probably more about me than him. This transition away from school to full time employment was somewhat difficult for me initially. I think it was challenging for me because it did not follow what I did, nor did it follow my plan for Zach. However, the more I celebrate Zach’s successes and see how he is handling the responsibilities of being independent, the more I am able to experience a bigger piece of God’s plan. I have had such tunnel vision and am so very thankful my perspective has been broadened. I am excited about the young man Zach is becoming. I say that because he is in the process of experiencing so much of life. Zach is being shaped by many influences out of my control. Nevertheless, I am learning to trust God more and believe Zach has the foundation to help him navigate the waters ahead.

    Today, I am happy to say I have come full circle and embrace Zach’s sense of independence. This has been a journey, and one I have sometimes tried to control. I cling to God’s promises. I know God is faithful and will keep Zach in His care. I know that doesn’t mean the path ahead will always be easy or without challenges, but what I do know is that our Father never lets go of His children.

I am typically a procrastinator! But my wife?...not so much. And of the many things she did exceptionally well, she led her young children into the presence of the Lord. As far back as I can recall in our married lives with small children, she invested in them by reading to them in the morning. I don’t remember her doing so in the summertime. But each school day @ 7am, they were perched on our bed and ready to receive. I even recall her videotaping herself (again, in the early morning) before she went in for extended hospital stays so that Carissa, Harrison, and Mallory could see and hear their mother as she revered the Word in the dawn of their day.

And when she died in March of 1998, it was a tradition I simply could not, would not let die with her. My kids were 7, 9 & 11 respectively that spring. And while I’m not sure what we did those last 2 months of that particular school year, I do remember beginning again that fall with the memories of their mother firmly in their minds AND the absolute dependence upon our heavenly Father just as firmly rooted. Becca has asked me to share my thoughts about this ritual in the Dell household. And though I realize our family situation is quite unlike most others, I do believe the tradition had some wonderful value for our life together as a family.

This time typically took about 20 minutes, leading off with a reading from the Bible. We read from all parts it, delving into the nature of God through the traditional OT stories, rich with examples of His character and love for the Israelites. We read from the prophets and the Psalms. We spent months in the gospels and Paul’s letters to the churches. And though I know they did not understand or appreciate all that these words signified to their young (elementary school) lives, I do know they sensed from mom & dad the depth and relevance these eternal words held in ours. They were always stone silent; God was teaching through our posture.

Then we would pray, mostly me, but sometimes one of them. Prayers of thanksgiving for what we had read. Prayers of praise for His nature and His providence. Prayers of petition for those we loved and who needed Him. Again, teachable moments shared between parent and child…daily!

Then we would conclude with a lighter form of reading from a variety of books. In the early years, I remember reading the “Chicken Soup” series, full of homespun wisdom that gave us reason to talk more and discuss things. “The Book of Virtues for Young People” by William Bennett was especially good reading…wisdom literature for young minds. Carissa was especially captivated by “The Chronicles of Narnia” series, and remembers to this day the realities of the heavenly realms being revealed to her through her mother’s voice and C.S. Lewis’ magical stories. As they reached high school, more age-appropriate reading was found. We poured through all 7 “Harry Potter” books, though they still are confounded by my inability to remember every tiny detail. And later, when it was just me and Mallory, we read “Screwtape Letters” and “The Hiding Place” by Corrie Ten Boom, speaking of eternal mysteries of the unseen world and the fortitude and depth of the human spirit.

These books lie silent on my shelf now, but seeds were deeply planted. And now a great harvest is being reaped as I see and hear from them the books they are inspired to read and are challenged by. Their Bibles do not sit idle. And they see with greater clarity beyond the veil that separates the temporal from the eternal. And best of all, they yearn, even at this relatively young age, for the day when they will sit beside their mother once again, this time in His presence and behold Him in the dawn of eternity. Traditions are rich! May many of yours be those seeking treasure in heaven. (Matt. 6:21)

If you asked our girls about our family's favorite holiday or tradition, they would probably say Valentine's Day. They do love Christmas, don't get me wrong, with all of the gifts, movies, and decorations (and time off from school), but Valentine's has become a special time for us.

I can't remember what year our tradition started.  And like most traditions, we didn't plan to start a family tradition.  I think it was about 5 years ago, we didn't have a babysitter for Valentine's night, so, we were staying home with the girls.  Deron and I decided that neither one of us should cook since it was a special holiday for both of us.  We bought a frozen Alfredo dish, a bag salad, and Little Debbie valentine cakes.  We set the table with heart placemats (we only have 4 so someone didn't get a heart) and made homemade Valentines for the girls.  At dinner, we read the cards to our girls and said Happy Valentine's Day and that was that.

The next year the girls began asking if we were going to have our "traditional" Valentine's dinner again. (It is amazing how quickly something can become a tradition!) They wanted to get in on the action. We said sure and realized that this could be something good.  They began making Valentines for each other, and we decided to add a small gift to the evening. Each year the dinner has grown a bit in its yumminess (no more frozen pasta and Little Debbie cakes) and the anticipation has heightened.  The kids start talking about it at the beginning of February.

I believe the thing that makes Valentine's day dinner stand out for the Smiths is not the good food or the small -very small- gifts that we give the girls (the after-Christmas sales at Bath and Body Works are put to good use).  It is all about the  Valentines.  They are home made and ugly.  The cut-out pink hearts glued to red construction paper will not ever appear in a Martha Stewart magazine.  But inside the cards, we remind our kids how much we love and enjoy them, we tell them things that we see God doing in their lives and ways that we see them growing in their spirits.  We use this holiday as a reminder for us to stop and tell our kids in very specific terms how much we love and appreciate them.  The girls have begun to do the same.  So now at our Valentine's dinner, we take turns reading out loud our valentines to each other.  It is a time like none other in our calendar year.

I have no idea how long we will be able to continue this tradition with our girls or how it will look in the future.  Sometime we might have to go back to frozen pasta,  and I know there will be a time when they are not able to be around our table.  However,  the idea of taking time to speak words of love and blessing over our kids will not end.  I believe that Valentine's Day will always be a reminder for Deron and I to stop and give our kids a little more than just an "I love you."  I have seen the looks of happiness on their faces when they are told specific ways that we love being with them, ways that we see God working in them.  And those are things that make the tradition worth it.