Children as Worshipers

A few months ago at church we looked at Mark 14 where Mary performs a costly act of worship toward Jesus when she breaks a flask of expensive perfume over his head.

Later that week, we discussed the passage again and dissected it at our "community group" on Friday night.  Since then, I have been mulling over the fact that we were created to be worshipers and when we are worshiping God we are doing exactly what we were created to do.  How much pressure this alleviates! Knowing what "the point" is.  The reason for life.  As this mindset has been affecting me, I have been praying over it for my kids.  Praying that God would show them who He is and that they would be worshipers of Him.  Since then, I've seen the Lord answer my prayers in a couple of obvious ways:

February 4, 2013  ||  The most beautiful thing happened the other night.  After we put Caiden to bed, we could hear her contentedly singing her little heart out.  She was "ramble singing"--just rambling on about all sorts of things that were true about God and I realized: "She is worshiping right now."  Just by speaking aloud the true things about God for no other reason than that they are true and good and beautiful.

March 10, 2013 ||  Elliott was so overcome while thinking about the Lord that He teared up telling me, "I just love Him (God) so much!  I don't know why... I just.... I just love him so much!"  That was worship, too.

This causes me to worship as I realize that all of these actions and confessions are a work of the Holy Spirit in my children's lives.  It is not something that I can coerce them into or will it into being.  It is the direct grace of God upon them to reveal Himself and His character and His love to the kids I love most in my life.  I hold none of it in my hands--I cannot grasp it--all I can do is lift up my hands in surrender and worship to the One who holds it all in His hands.

My First Job (Again)

My mom had a rough childhood and started "bringing home the bacon" from a very young age.  I think before she could drive a car, she was riding her bike to and from work.  At least that's how I always pictured it when she told me stories about it.  Now I can't separate which parts I imagined and which parts were direct information.

My mom has worked hard her entire life.  I always wanted to be just like her, but she never wanted that for me.  She wanted me to enjoy my childhood, be able to embrace my femininity, and be cared for.  To that end, she discouraged me from having a job all throughout high school.  She never pressured me to to be "responsible" in that way.  She taught me responsibility in other ways.  I never had a job until after high school, but by the age of 7 or 8 I managed our household laundry (for 8 people), vacuumed, did dishes, changed (cloth) diapers for my baby brothers, and knew how to cook a few things like eggs and quesadillas.  I was always expected to be responsible for my own actions and to care for all my siblings, to be respectful, and cultivate a relationship with God.  I even had to keep a budget when I made $2/week in allowance.  Still, I never worked a "real" job.

"You'll have your whole life to work," my mom would say.  And I'm really thankful that she did that.  I never had the temptation to find my identity in work or career.  My mom helped me to be pretty confident in who God had made me to be.

But... eventually, I graduated from high school and didn't really want to stick around the still-foreign-to-me east coast.  I packed my bags and drove an old, decrepit Thunderbird across the U.S. until I landed safely back in California (where I felt I belonged!).  Thus starting my illustrious career in the working world which lasted all of 2 or 3 years and included assembly line work (completely operated and instructed by Spanish speakers and I don't speak Spanish), office work, nonprofit caregiving, and telephone sales.

I never really found my niche, I guess, and happily surrendered my place in the rat race for the job of raising my children.  I remember Dave saying--as an answer to someone shortly after our kids were born--that eventually I would most likely work again when the kids were older.  At the time, I couldn't even fathom that stage ever arriving.  It seemed like a far distant world.  And yet, here I am--8 years later--a "stay-at-home mom" with no kids at home for 5 hours each day.  There's plenty to do during that time, but I started putting my feelers out there into that old cantankerous world of work and felt a feeling of dread and anxiety wash over me.  I never liked that world, never quite got comfortable.  Would it be the same now?  Would it best me yet again?

I began to pray.  And think.  And pray.  I talked to my grandmother who suggested looking into asking around at my kids' school to see what I could do there.  That planted a seed.

And now, here I am, 7 months later, the proud new owner of a user name and password for the Berkeley School Districts "substitute-finder" program.  I got a call the same day I finished registering and went to work a few hours later.  Its only been 2 days, so we'll see how it goes, but I really enjoyed going home after a few hours not carrying the weight of the job on my shoulders.  I can go in and do a good job and not worry about it after that.  I'm happy to have something that I can do according to my own schedule where I'm actually helping people that need it--filling a hole (something that I love to do)--and still be free to be concerned with the things of my family and not be distracted from them by the stresses of a job.

I tell you, God has been so gracious to me with this job that I didn't even have to fight to get.  I did have to follow through and be a little bit fearless, though.  I am always afraid of the unknown, so I'm thankful the Lord helped me to not let that stop me from looking into this.  He has been so gracious to me even after getting the job, too, because thats when the worry and fear started creeping in.  "What if I don't get any jobs?"  "What if my time constraints don't work with the hours for the substitute positions they need filled?" "What if? What if? What if?"  I kept having to surrender my thoughts, my time, and my life to His care.  Let Him worry it. And He supplied a job that first day to alleviate my fears.

And still after that!  I started fearing again: "What if that was the only one I get?" "What if? What if? What if?"  And He graciously gave me two more that were perfect.  He is so kind and gentle with me, with my fearful and wavering heart.  I keep having to remember:  I can trust Him.  He holds me in His hands.  His very capable hands.  And He loves me.  He showed me that when He sent His Son to die for me.  What more proof do I need?  None, but still He gives it to me each day in many different ways.  I will praise the Lord.

Caiden's Crazy Outfits Update

I just thought I would stop in and reassure you that Caiden is making just as crazy outfits as ever, so don't worry!  Everything is fine over here.  She's also a really good climber and is so good at reading that I'm considering pulling out my old physics textbooks for her just so she can have a challenge...

Carry on.

See more of Caiden's wacky outfits here and here.

Pushing Limits One Set of Training Wheels at a Time

Caiden has never had an extremely keen interest in biking or other sports.  But after seeing a classmate ride her bike without training wheels, she started kicking her training wheels and saying, "Psh! Take these things off!  I don't need these!" which...she totally does.  There was no way she was ready.  She was just feeling competitive and embarrassed.  I'm starting to discern this whole other side of Caiden that comes out around her peers.  She totally cares about her image.  But, after that incident, she continued to ask us about taking off her training wheels off and on for a few months (like maybe 6 or more); and mainly because there was never a "good" time, we kept saying no.  Finally, though, the other day as I was talking to Dave about bringing Elliott to the skate park, we spontaneously decided to take off her training wheels and let her try.  Dave took Elliott in to skate, while I took Caiden around the block for a spin.

It took a bit of time for her to get her sea legs.  I'm telling you, she's not overly apt.  But eventually the little magic switch went off (it was more of a fade on light, than a contrasted off/on) and somehow she did it.  She is still super wobbly on two wheels, but she has officially graduated.  We were all so proud of her: Mom, Dad, and Brother.  Congratulations, Caiden.  You did it.  5 years old and no more training wheels!  Woot!

Meanwhile, Elliott tried a new drop in at the skate park and took on the super scary (in my opinion) 8 foot drop.  He's a brave little guy sometimes.  Just not with dogs...or cats...or any animals really.

I'm really proud of both of the kids for pushing their limits that day.  Although we did save a few limits in front of us for another time.  And I can't say I'm disappointed, either, that Elliott decided to wait on trying to drop into the quarter pipe/pool for the first time.  I am SO GLAD I didn't have to watch him hurtling down an almost completely vertical drop to the bottom of a cement pool.  Which, according to the warnings of his dad, has to be done just right to avoid eating the pavement.  I don't think I can be there to watch that one.  So scary!

This one was scary enough for a mom to watch, thank you very much!

To Fave or not to Fave

Favorites have never been my strong suit.  After watching Runaway Bride once, I really had myself freaked out.  I became really worried that I couldn't be in a relationship with my boyfriend (who is now my husband) because I thought that having no favorites meant that I didn't "know who I was."  But since then, I have come to grips with simply being someone who doesn't really have any "favorites."  Caiden is a little bit like me in this way.  She doesn't like to commit herself to a specific favorite.

But unlike me, Caiden is clever.  She already embraces her failure to commit.  Once, when asked what her favorite color was, she started naming almost all of the colors in the spectrum.  It wasn't long until she was interrupted with, "Caiden, you can only have one favorite."  She thought about that for a second and then boldly announced, "Then my favorite color is rainbow."

Now, why didn't I think of that!

Her cleverness, however, didn't help her much when she had to make a decision between four different pairs of dress shoes recently.  After finally making up her mind to go with a purple pair that only made it in the running toward the latter half of our search, she got home and cried about them because she later decided she wanted the gold ones.  Later still, she was not consoled, but now it was the hello kitty pair she longed for.  Make up your mind, girl.  You can only pick one!  In the end, she decided to be happy with the pair she had.  But now that she is satisfied I am unsettled.  I should have made her get a different pair.  Yada, yada, yada.  And the inner turmoil continues.

So what about you?  Do you have favorites or are you indecisive like us?