The Good Old Days

Life was so much simpler when all I had to worry about was which stuffed animal to sleep with and what kind of candy bar I wanted to buy at the dime store with my 25 cents. And so, in honor of "The Good Old Days," here is the promised list of some of the things I miss about being a kid.

• Picking strawberries at Great Grandma's house. I think more of them ended up in my mouth than in the basket, but they were so good! (That's me on the right and my sister on the left.)
• Wiffle Ball World Series in the backyard - boys vs. girls, and we won almost every time!
• Riding our bikes to 7-eleven to buy Slurpees, then being hot and thirsty again by the time we got home.
• 5 candy bars for $1.00 - the Sunday treat at 7-eleven on the way home from church.
• Spending the night at Grandma and Grandpa's house, then waking up on Saturday morning to a breakfast of jelly-filled doughnuts from the IGA or bunny-shaped pancakes (my grandpa's handiwork). And who can forget the three hours of Bugs Bunny cartoons?
• Chasing each other around the house with squirt guns.
• Dancing around the floor while Grandpa played his guitar and harmonica, Dad and Great Grandma accompanied him on harmonicas, and Grandma sang.
  
• Christmas morning. Need I say more?
• Sitting around the campfire, our eyes watering from a combination of the smoke from the fire and laughing so hard at each other's jokes.
• Family trips. That's a list for another day.
  
• The excitement of back-to-school shopping and choosing the all-important Trapper Keeper. Getting the right design could make or break your whole school year!
• Bedtime stories. My dad read us real books, like The Last of the Mohicans (edited as he went, of course). I think that's part of the reason I developed such a love for reading.
• Feeling special because my mom came to school to help out in our class.
• Day trips to Frankenmuth and getting to choose my favorite flavor of candy stick.
• Getting together with our cousins and making the adults endure our "programs" that we loved to perform.
• Going to Camp Barakel as a family when my dad would speak there. I loved the smell of the woods in the summer time, and in the winter it would be so cold your nostrils would stick together. But we could spend hours at the tubing hill, then duck into the warming tent for hot chocolate. There was nothing like it!
• 4th of July fireworks in Bay City with our best friends.
  
• My dog Kaye.

This list really could go on and on. I had no idea when I was a kid how fortunate I was. Most importantly, I was loved and Christ was the center of our home. My prayer is that someday my kids will feel the same way about their childhood.

Wrestling Match

I've been wrestling with God. Not a knock-out, drag-down fistfight, but a wrestling match. Trying to get a hold on Him and pin Him down. Hoping maybe I can slip out from under His control and win the contest. Just this once.

Today God decided He'd had enough with me and wrenched my hip (Genesis 32:22-30). And He used a book title and a song to do it.

Rewind to last week. My dad had a very serious surgery to bypass an artery in his leg. The surgery took several hours, but he came through it fine and is now recovering at home - a slow, painful recovery, compounded by the reality of dialysis three times a week.

I hate feeling helpless, and I think probably the most difficult thing for me to deal with is knowing someone I love is suffering and not being able to do anything about it. I want to be able to help him. I want to make him better.

And then I find myself saying to God, "This isn't fair! He's served You all his life. Why does he have to go through this?" Even as I type it I know it sounds like a whining child. But now the wrestling match has begun: my will vs. His will. I have no chance of winning.

This has been going through my mind for the past few days, this back-and-forth, basically one-sided conversation. It isn't fair. Well, then, what is fair? I love my dad, but face it, we should all be grateful God has not treated us as our sins deserve. Still, it grieves me so to see him like this.

Now I remember when I called my dad in tears the night before my grandma's quadruple bypass surgery and he asked me, "What are you going to do when I'm not here?" I don't want to think about that. But for the first time in my life I'm being forced to acknowledge that someday he won't be here. "You'll get through it, and you'll be fine," he tells me. I know that. In my head I know it. My heart tells me something different. So I keep wrestling.

I know God has the power to touch my dad this very moment and completely heal him. Spring his kidneys back into action. Take away the diabetes. Give back the darkened eyesight. God could do it in an instant. But I don't think He will. Because God has a purpose for my dad's illness.

That's the realization He gave me today that was the wrenching of my hip. I was putting some books away and came across the book by Max Lucado called It's Not About Me (an excellent book that I highly recommend, by the way). Immediately the words to this song popped into my head: "It's all about you, Jesus, and all this is for you - for your glory and your fame. It's not about me, as if you should do things my way. You alone are God and I surrender to your will." He pinned me. The match is over.

It's time for me to stop telling God how I wish He would do things and just let Him be God. No, I still don't understand why my dad has to go through all of this, but I know God has a reason for it. And when it comes down to it, I'm glad He's the one who is in control, because if I was, I would sure make a mess of things.

I love you, oh Lord my strength.

Today we celebrated our nephew's first birthday. As part of the celebration, Lars' brother and sister-in-law had a special family time of dedicating Niklas to the Lord. Just as they had done with their daughter, they chose a life verse (chapter, in this case) for him. It was Psalm 18 - my life passage.

The first part of this chapter is a section of scripture that I have committed to memory and recite in my mind whenever the worries come. For me, it is both a precious promise and a steadfast resolution. Here is what it says:

"I love you, oh Lord my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer. My God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and I am saved from my enemies."

The precious promise is that I can find refuge in God. He is strong when I am weak. He is a rock that cannot be moved, and He will deliver me! If I will just call on Him, He will save me from my enemies. Now, I am not running from people who are trying to kill me the way David was, but I have a very real enemy called Satan who tries his best to bring me down. It's awesome to know that God will deliver me from his grasp!

There's a second part of this promise that I hope I can properly describe. God is my shield. For some reason, I had always envisioned a soldier's shield as a relatively small circle or oval of metal that he would hold in front of his chest to protect his heart. I don't know about you, but that wouldn't make me feel all that protected. It wasn't until I watched the movie Troy that I got a true visual of the type of shield the psalmist was describing here. In that movie, the soldiers went into battle with very large shields that they would set on the ground in front of them and hide behind. In doing so, their entire body was protected from the onslaught of the enemy's arrows. That's the kind of shield my God is for me when the enemy attacks! I love that visual.

The steadfast resolution is my part of the bargain. The promise in this scripture only applies if I am willing to surrender my own will. I have to quit trying to do it all on my own and seek refuge in Him. And I resolve to love Him through the good times and the bad. He will be my strength, but only if I let Him. That's not always easy for me to do. And that's why I have made these my life verses. They not only reassure me with such an amazing promise of refuge and deliverance, they also challenge me to let Him be my source of strength.

And so, my sweet little Niklas, I pray that you will never in your life know fear and worry the way I have. But, if you do, I pray that you will cling to the verses your mom and dad have chosen for you, find your strength in the Lord, and love Him in all things!

Keep Your Stick on the Ice

This post is just for fun, so I hope you enjoy the pictures and allow me to do the "mom" thing.

Yesterday my sister and I took our kids ice skating. Now, her kids have all had skating lessons and mine have not. Lauren figure skated competitively for a while, and Joey and Jared both play ice hockey. Stefan and Lukas got skates for Christmas and have skated a handful of times. Thank goodness for an older cousin who loves to help!

Stefan took right to the ice - no surprise there. He was our fearless one who walked at 9 months because he didn't care how many times he fell in the process, he wanted to be able to get where he was going! (Notice the difference in skin tone. Can you tell my boys have Swedish blood?) He loved every minute of it, cold ears and all.

Lukas stuck pretty close to the edge, where he could hold on. He was a bit tentative about venturing out too far on the ice, especially since he didn't have all the equipment Jared had. Jared wears his hockey pads and helmet just in case he falls. But once I finally convinced Lukas to trust Lauren and let her help him, he let go of the wall and had a great time.

Now, here's the best shot. This was taken at Wendy's after the kids were done skating. You just can't help but smile when you see these two boys and their toothless grins!

God has blessed me with a great family, and I cherish every moment we spend together. I'm grateful for cameras that help us preserve these memories!

Thanks for letting me share this little glimpse of my life with you. Until next time, enjoy your family and - in the words of the great Canadian hero Red Green - "Keep your stick on the ice!"

Take Two

Per my mom's request, here is a picture of Stefan minus his top front teeth. The second one came out this evening. Since his adult teeth will be in place before his school pictures are taken, I had to be sure and preserve the memory myself!

So this leads me to my next list. Yes, I admit the idea of making Saturday "list day" hasn't exactly materialized, but I'll continue to throw in a list now and then.

This list is inspired by Stefan's tooth loss, and it is:

Things I Don't Miss About Being a Kid

• Loose teeth! I used to just let them hang there until they practically fell out on their own. Then my dad would trick me into letting him pull them and I fell for it every time.
  
• Riding the bus to school (Notice I didn't say school itself. I was one of those weirdos who loved school!)
• Mean lunch ladies who made me eat the crust on my sandwich.
• Camping in the rain (There's a list for another day - camping memories! Though I must admit, not all were bad.) We used to joke that if there was ever a drought we could end it by setting up the tent.
  
• Leaving for home at the end of a visit to Grandma and Grandpa. It was always such a sad feeling.
• Peas and mashed potatoes: two things I never serve now that I'm the cook.
• Bedtime. Mostly because that's when I felt afraid.

Wow! It was a lot harder to come up with this list than I thought it would be. Truthfully, I had a wonderful childhood. When I think about the things so many kids have to go through - the kids who come to Youth Haven - I see how blessed I was as a child. Thank God this was all I had to complain about! My next list will be things I do miss about being a kid. It's sure to be a much longer list.

He Understands

Stefan lost the first of his top front teeth last night, and the other one is just hanging on by a thread. He put the tooth under his pillow, even though he knows the tooth fairy is just Dad. Or Mom in this case, because Dad was out at the Youth Haven observatory until pretty late last night.

Most people who know Stefan say he is his dad all over again. I tend to agree, for the most part. But in one way, he is me: fear.

Today was traumatic for him because he kicked a ball into the lake and it nearly floated away. Fortunately, the ball was recovered, but not before visions of the ball drifting away from him on the water were etched into his brain.

For me, the focus of the fear is illness. For him, it is losing things. He is terrified of losing things - to the point that if he is ever given a helium balloon at an event he will immediately take it to the car and tie the string around the headrest so that it can't blow away. I've tried to comfort him, but, like me, he has a hard time shaking the thoughts. Tonight was one of those nights.

I allowed him to sit by me and cuddle on the couch after Lukas was already in bed (which I admit, I thoroughly enjoyed since he isn't usually much of a cuddler). He said to me, "I wish I could figure out a way to wipe my mind clean." I knew exactly how he felt.

I knew because I remember. I remember the mattress my dad kept under my bed when I was a kid, so that he could lie on the floor in my room to help keep the bad thoughts away. I remember not being able to explain why I was afraid, it was just a "scared feeling" I had.

And I understand because I still fight to keep those frightening thoughts from overwhelming me. God has done some amazing things in my life, as you will have read if you've been following my blog since I started. But in my moments of weakness, I still sometimes wish I could wipe my mind clean.

One thing I've learned through my own experiences is that you can't rationalize the fears away. There is nothing I can say to Stefan that will make it better. I wish there was, but there isn't. Believe me, I've been there. No amount of reasoning can put the fears back in their place when they raise their ugly heads. All I can do is understand. And I learned that from my dad.

If you tend to struggle with fear and are surrounded by people who don't, it's easy to feel like there's something wrong with you. You begin to wonder, "Why can't I just be normal?" I don't want Stefan to ever feel that way. So after we cuddled on the couch, I stayed with him in his room until he fell asleep. And do you know what he said? "Mom, you always understand what I'm trying to tell you."

Yes, I understand! Just like my dad understands me. And more importantly, we have a Heavenly Father who understands and never leaves our side, even after we fall asleep! Now all I can do is pray for my son. Please, God, help him to know he is not alone. Reassure him with your presence. Help him to depend on You and experience the strength that comes from that.

I know He can, and I believe He will. Because Stefan is His child, and He understands.

Fat Cat

Okay, this post has absolutely no spiritual significance and isn't even serious. I just thought you might enjoy this picture of Lukas and our fat cat.

Tiger is spoiled rotten and, as you can see, enjoys his food to the fullest. He is an indoor cat and I think the lack of exercise contributes to that big belly.

He is a great cat, though, and he puts up with a lot of pestering from the dog and the kids. Or maybe it's just because he's too fat to run away...

His Child

My kids mean the world to me. Last weekend, Lars and I were both on the worship team at church, which meant the boys had to come with us pretty early on Sunday morning for the rehearsal before the first service. They usually take a few things with them and play on one of the front pews while we practice.

We had already gone through a few of the songs when they both came up on stage and handed me offering envelopes they had written on. Lukas' read, "I love you Mom." Stefan's read, "You're the best mom who ever lived."

Then Lukas said to me, "I love your singing." Those simple words from my six-year-old and the notes they both wrote meant more to me than if the President himself had told me he liked my singing. Why? Because they're my children. I love them so much, and I want them to love me, too. I want them to be proud of me, not embarrassed by me.

We are at a stage in our lives right now when they are becoming more and more independent. They want to do things for themselves, without my help, as much as they are able. For the most part, I enjoy the fact that "Mom, can you..." has become "Mom, can I..." There are those times when I know I could do a better job, but that's how they learn, so I let them. They are so proud of their accomplishments, I just have to smile. But a part of me is saddened with each thing they master to the point of no longer needing my help.

I was reminded again on the 4th of July how similar my experiences as a parent are to my relationship with God. Only in this case, I am the child. And I will never get the point where I don't need His help. Still, I find that I am afraid to talk to others about Him. It's easy to tell Him I love Him, but how good am I at telling others that I love Him?

I thought about all of this as we watched the fireworks in celebration of our nation's birth. Freedom to worship. Freedom to assemble. Freedom of speech. And yet the physical freedoms we enjoy in our country can't compare to the freedom we have in Christ. Freedom from sin. Freedom from death. Freedom from fear. The efforts of the children, no matter how noble, could never measure up to what the Father has done for us.

Even the fireworks themselves can't compare to the majesty God has put on display for us in the night sky. Lars had taken his telescope with us and as we watched the fireworks, he and some of our friends looked at Saturn and a few other celestial beings. I wondered if God smiled in amusement at how proud we are of our feeble display when His is so magnificent.

So today, this is my prayer: That I will never find pride in my own accomplishments, because I know that without God I am nothing. And that I will always take pride only in the fact that I am His child, and He alone is worthy of my adoration.

I Will Not Offer Anything That Costs Me Nothing

I have a confession to make. I love to play at Webkinz World.

"What is Webkinz World"? you ask.

In a nutshell, Webkinz are stuffed animals you buy at various retailers. Each one comes with its own individual code. You then go to Webkinz World on the Internet and virtually "adopt" your pet by entering its code. It gives you a complete bio of your pet and you begin to care for it in cartoon version on the web site.

There are all kinds of things you can do for your pet. You automatically receive one room with each pet, and you can earn "Kinzcash" to buy things for it. You can even buy more rooms and furnish them so that you have a complete house. You earn Kinzcash by playing games, answering educational questions, or doing a job. Your Webkinz can attend the Webkinz Academy and learn skills, too. You have to feed them and make sure they get a good night's sleep or they will get sick and you have to take them to the doctor. (Someone had way too much time on their hands!)

It started out as the boys asking me to help them earn Kinzcash by playing some of the trickier games. I discovered that some of the games are pretty fun. (Except for one particular math game, which I can't do and it drives me crazy. I've always hated math!) They have one that's similar to Pac Man, one like Frogger, even one like Donkey Kong. Of course, my kids don't remember those games, but I do! Now I actually catch myself logging on with one of their user names even when they haven't asked me to. So I love playing children's games. What's wrong with that?

I think I found the underlying reason that I love to play. The other day we were inside Meijer, and as usual, the boys found a hundred things they wanted. I get tired of saying, "I'm sorry, we can't afford that. You'll have to save up your allowance if you want to buy it." I know it's teaching them good financial responsibility, but I sure do wish I could buy them everything they want!

Gift giving is one of my love languages. It seems like if God was going to bless me with that gift, He could have also blessed me with lots of money to go along with it... But He knows best. Still, I think that's why I like Webkinz World. There, I can buy all kinds of things for my kids to give their pets, and all it costs me is a little playing time. I like being able to say, "Look what I just bought for your game room!" and having them get excited about it.

But when it comes down to it, these aren't real gifts. They're just pictures on my computer screen that disappear with the click of a mouse. And they don't really mean anything, because they don't cost me anything. There's no sacrifice involved. They're not gifts from my heart.

It reminds me of an account in I Chronicles 21. David is commanded by the angel of the Lord to visit a man named Araunah and offer a sacrifice to the Lord on Araunah's threshing floor. In obedience David goes to Araunah and asks if he can buy the threshing floor from him so that he can build an altar there and sacrifice to the Lord.

Beginning with verse 23, the account reads:

Araunah said to David, "Take it! Let my lord the king do whatever pleases him. Look, I will give the oxen for the burnt offerings, the threshing sledges for the wood, and the wheat for the grain offering. I will give all this."

But King David replied to Araunah, "No, I insist on paying the full price. I will not take for the Lord what is yours, or sacrifice a burnt offering that costs me nothing."

How often do I try to please God with half-hearted offerings that mean nothing more to him than a virtual bed for a cartoon pet? If I really want my offering to be a sweet aroma to Him, it has to cost me something. A bit of sleep in the morning, perhaps, in order to spend time in His Word. The cost of a new outfit to buy clothes for someone in need. A weekend spent at church, serving on the worship team instead of sitting by the lake. Or even paring down my grocery list so I can afford food for a family experiencing hardships. These are the things that please Him.

And I will not offer anything that costs me nothing.