Resources for Christian Women, Encouragement for Families
Importance of Vulnerability and Family Stories in the Family
Back to the local library and I found a book called The Secrets of Happy Families by Bruce Feiler. Although I did not agree with everything in the book, I was so intrigued by some information in the chapter titled: The Right Way to Have Family Dinner. Telling stories about your history and your family’s history is so very very important in raising our children and grandchildren. Children need to know they are part of a bigger picture, part of a larger family.
It’s important for the children to know where you grew up, how you met your spouse, some of the joys and trials and more. Having a strong intergenerational self is important for the children to be able to grow up, be resilient, and move forward.
Grandmas, it turns out, are central to the wellness of the child. When a problem comes up, tell a story about a relative who had a similar trial and how it worked out. When you are eating a meal and telling these stories, it’s win win. Eating together is nurturing. Eating with family, hearing these stories, is nourishing. Being able to hear the stories and then putting yourself into the family history is so key. Let the children know that they are part of a bigger picture.
Wokeness is Spiritual Broke-ness
The woke state of our culture is seeping into every little crack and crevice. What it looks like for you may be very different for me. As someone now with gray hair and a dozen grandchildren I read about it in the news, pretty much now, whenever I read the news. One writer even commented that for caucasian men, it is literally getting harder and harder for them to even open their mouth to talk.
What a travesty this is that our culture has become so infiltrated with this ideology. Sibling rivalry, whether it happens today, or 50 years ago, is seen as oppression. Just normal everyday life can be twisted into a life wherein there is an oppressor and the oppressed. Little children are being taught if their skin is a certain color, they are the oppressor. Having grown up in a big family, and seeing where we are all at now that we are in our 50’s – 70’s shows that even if you had the same upbringing, went to the same schools, played the same sports, wore the same uniforms, ate the same suppers, had the same parents…you all grow up to be very unique and different individuals.
So, just thinking if we control the environment for everyone, making it the same, doesn’t mean that we are all going to grow up to be the same. If we can remember a couple things: we are all sinners (Romans 3:23) and God is sovereign (Ephesians 1), these will go along way in helping us understand who we are and what is going on in the world. I really think wokeness is spiritual broke-ness.
Reflections on Being a Parent
Being a parent is really a full time role. You have a child and along with the gift comes a lifetime of responsibility. It may not end at a clear cut time when you think or expect. But with God’s help, you persevere.
Sometimes when you think your responsibility may lessen, it does not. So, again, you move forward. God can and will equip you as you persevere and put one wobbly step in front of the other. You realize, too, you can accomplish feats and tasks you never expected to face.
This is all part of what I call The Journey, the span of time from cradle to grave as you make your mark on life — or maybe just meander through at times.
Rest assured, as a believer in Jesus Christ, I know He is with me and will never leave me nor forsake me. If I were to explain my daily life, some days would not make sense to anyone else. I think that’s somewhat true for most folks, though.
I truly thank God for this journey and seek His guidance, blessing and strength. When I’m older and grayer, I may be able to make sense of what I’m going through, but then again — maybe not. But I can assuredly say, “He is God. He is good. He really does know what He’s doing.”
Blockbuilder
It’s January 6 and some of the grandkids are still here.
Things so forgotten from when mine were tykes come to the forefront.
The little tuft of hair as I rock the tired babe who woke up due to wetness.
Last night, I chose the privilege of changing the diaper and the soggy double layers of pajamas – in the wee hours of the morning.
How did those times so quickly pass and bring me to this stage with hoary head?
I recall the exhaustion of my time as a young mom, feeling so blessed to do this task now.
Whimpers in the night echo, beckoning me to put the blanket back on or pacifier back in mouth.
Morning comes. Soft whimpers change to exuberant cries for refreshment.
Breakfast – what will it be?
The shiny green watermelon that caught my eye at the store disappoints with its soggy texture and dull taste.
Oatmeal, steamy warm, yogurt; cheerios dance to the floor awaiting the broom or perhaps the tot, later, looking for a quick snack.
Later, the multicolored letter blocks appear.
The mama of the tots reminisces of times past when she so gleefully stacked them.
Yet it seems like yesterday we brought the blocks home.
Now, Oma me watches the newest blockbuilder, stacking, pushing, crying out with glee.
DeJaVu? Am I thinking I’ve done this all before? How? When? It clicks, poignantly and plain. But how could this be? I feel as though I just completed high school.
Mind races…There I am a toddler, crawling upstairs with my bottle, made of glass.
Over 5 decades have passed. On the ceramic honeycomb floor, the bottle breaks. Papa comes. My finger’s bleeding. And it hits me, hourglass of time has sifted, decades have passed.
