Child's Play

By Sarah (Living Between the Lines)

This Christmas, I got—um, shall we say, drafted—to assist with a children’s Christmas program. This particular church only has about 15 children and they’re all below the age of six. A single, childless lady in her twenties volunteered to direct the program and found a play that was age-appropriate for these children. And she has spent the last several weeks herding cats attempting to direct this play. She got all of the parents to agree to help direct traffic to the stage, and on the stage. And she recruited another young childless friend of hers to help with the sets and costumes. And then, because nobody else would, she began learning lines so that she could also—in addition to directing—be the narrator of the play.

This woman was quite possibly the bravest—or most naïve—woman I have ever met.

Because I don’t regularly attend this church, I missed all of this pre-program fun. I missed the practices and the costume-making and the set-building. I just knew I needed to be there at 10:00 on that Sunday morning, to assist. By 10:03, I was ready to jump ship!

When I walked into the dressing room at 10:00, there were 15 children and at least as many adults. The oldest boy—wearing his costume—was standing on one side of the room bellowing, “WEE! WEE! WEE! WEE! WEE! WEE! WEE! WEE! WEE!” When I finally left the room twenty-five minutes later, he still hadn’t stopped. Both of his parents had been in the room and neither said anything to him.

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Waiting

By Michelle (Graceful, Faith in the Everyday)

"Last year I used to think that maybe I didn't believe in God, but now I know I do." He announces it at the dinner table, and I pause, a spoonful of lentil curry soup poised halfway to my mouth.

"You thought you didn't believe in God last year?" I ask, trying to keep my voice light and bouncy.

"Yeah, but I'm good now. I feel better again," my ten-year-old son Noah says.

"So what made you change your mind?" I ask, soup spoon still steady in mid-air. "How did you come back to believing in God again?" I need to know how he did this. I want to be reassured it won't happen again. I need to know that my son won't spend his childhood mired in fear and unbelief, like I did.

"I don't know. I guess I just sort of waited," he answers. "And then, after a while, I felt like I believed again."

There is much wisdom in that little-boy answer.

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What Example?

By Pat

I often speak of my granddaughter, Kendra, who lives with us. She is six years old now, and is the source of many lessons. God uses her to reveal things to me about myself. Kendra follows me everywhere I go most of the time she's home, and in many little ways, she is like me, just by watching and imitating me. When she gets out of the shower, she slathers on body lotion, just like me. She uses brown mustard-just like me, and she likes to put potato chips on her sandwiches-just like me. There are many more examples...and as much as it delights me to see this, it also scares me.

Just as Kendra picks up these harmless little habits and rituals to imitate me, I have to wonder what characteristics I have that I DON'T want her to imitate. Do I exhibit patience when I am pressured? Not always. Am I calm when I have many things to get done? Not always. Do I listen without interruption when someone is talking in order to hear the whole story? Do I speak gently, show kindness and consideration for the feelings of others? Think before I speak? Not always. Do I show Kendra what Jesus looks like in every aspect of my day-to-day life? Sad to say, but no, not always.

I want Kendra to see and hear Jesus when she's with me. As she grows up, I want her to read her Bible daily, just like me. I want her to pray diligently, just like me. I want her to love, and give, and listen and care. I want her to think before she speaks, look before she leaps, and put other people first. I need to be the example that will make God proud, but I can't do it without His help. And so, I will continue to pray every day that God will help me to show her every day, in every way, what it means to follow Jesus, so that someday she will say, "God is the most important thing in my life"... just like me.

"Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it." (Proverbs 22:6)

Pat is a good friend who is passionate about her faith and her family. She works from home supporting a family business, and loves to read, write and garden when she can, and spends every spare moment with her grandkids.

One Word At A Time: Swings

By Ginny (MAD21)

If you were ever around me as a kid, you would know that anytime we were near a playground there was one place you could almost always find me... on the swings. Watching my own children over the last several years, I've wondered if it's genetic. They are like most kids running around going down the slides, or jumping over the bouncy bridge, etc. But almost always, both of my girls revert back to the swings.

When my oldest was a toddler and we went to the playground, we would spend almost the entire time with me pushing her on the swings. It was your purest joy (both for me and her!). She still prefers swinging over most things. Her swing of choice? The regular swing. My youngest, however, prefers the tire swing. Which should show the difference between the two. One enjoys things as they are, the other wants more excitement. This is my scary future you see before you. Haha!

One of my fondest memories as a child was going on the long five-hour drive to visit my aunt and uncle. They were so good to me. They were some of my favorite people. One of the things I loved about going to visit them at their house was the giant oak tree outside their house. It always had a tire swing on it. I loved the tree... and the swing.

I've often wondered why we love to swing. What is it about it that brings so much joy. Like rocking in a chair, sky diving, hang-gliding, repelling, or riding in a boat, I wonder if it's a small sense of freedom. The closest we'll ever feel to flying. Whatever it is, I hope I never grow up so much I forget how much joy such a simple thing can bring.

This post is a participant in a blog carnival over at Peter Pollock's place.
After you finish here, be sure to go and check out what everyone else wrote on: Swings

One Word At A Time: Road

By Ginny (MAD21)

Getting real with the road we are all on.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how often I write about the fun things we do as a family; ways that we as parents help grow our children; ideas regarding how to organize our lives; and make our family and faith stronger. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. It is, after all, the mission of my blog to cover all of those topics. But after the last few posts I've written about Fun Fridays, playing games, and strategies that generally work for our family, I have felt the need to make sure you all knew that my family wasn't living in a realm of perfection where the sun is always shining, my house is always clean and organized, my children are always well behaved, and my hubby and I are always on speaking terms. If you've been thinking that, I'm sorry to shatter that image for you! Haha

We all talk a lot about our families, and our experiences as parents to children of all ages. We discuss how things should be in the world and how strong our faith should be, and how big our God is. Talking about all of these things is important, but I wonder if there is something else, something that is just as real that needs to be addressed.

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