As an author and voracious devourer of fiction, I consistently get a kick out of the comedy Stranger than Fiction (2006), with Will Farrell and Emma Thompson.
Will Farrell’s character, IRS agent Harold Crick, begins to hear a narrator’s voice over his life–a narrator who has power to determine his circumstances. And who indicates he’s going to die.
Harold seeks a literature professor’s advice (Dustin Hoffman), who suggests he start to find his author by determining whether he’s in a comedy or a tragedy.read more
A couple of weeks ago one of my teenagers was super-miffed with my husband and me.
On a car ride home from church, after explaining a biblical position we held on a touchy subject, this unnamed teenager maintained his shock and sudden anger.read more
So this past weekend was the community garage sale in my small town. Though I’m really aspiring to greater simplicity, a community garage sale is my kryptonite.
I was super-excited about a necklace I found. But when I paired the necklace with a bracelet I’d nabbed for $.50, my husband’s eyebrow cocked. Not a good sign.read more
My mom and I had a good conversation last week–one of those “Oh, that’s how it went down on your side of things” talks.
Groove back with me to around 1993. I’m growing out my formerly-birds-nest bangs. I have braces. Both are just as becoming as they sound. But though there at 13, I’ve been a Christian for eight years, I haven’t been baptized.read more
Months ago, I stumbled upon what I thought was an epiphany: silicone scar strips…which promised, with 4.5 stars on Amazon, to fade stretch marks, people.
My heart lifted. My first child ballooned my belly like a watermelon, complete with stripes. When another mother asked to glimpse my stretch marks after I mentioned their severity, she gasped aloud with some equivalent of Good golly.
Y’all, four kids later, my stomach is still not what one would call attractive.
I thought, Who would’ve thought they’d develop a technology to fade scars? To fade this trail of where my body has been?
So I handed over the $20 and slapped on the strips, vigilantly wearing them for admittedly only half the recommended three months. (Yet conveniently past any return date.) It’s super-cute to one’s spouse, I will add, to cover your body in what look like giant bandaids, particularly as the sticky edges start to curl up and attract fuzz.
A handful of my stretch marks faded to match the silver of the rest. But mostly?
Mostly this was a gimmick, fed by my longing for my former smooth, non-corrugated skin.
Scars: “You’re asking the right question”
After my oldest was born, I stood in my mother’s kitchen talking with my sister, who was at that time still childless. We discussed things that didn’t work quite as before since I’d had a baby. There were more than one. That conversation was even before a C-section scar frowned beneath my abdomen.
Let’s just say I lack some physical functionality, some beauty, some parts that will never bounce back to their taut little selves.
(And that’s just the physical side of having kids.)
My sister asked, her face a mixture of horror and disbelief, “Why would you do that to your body?”
She was asking the right question.
But wait! There’s more
My oldest is now 16. I actually looked forward to all that teenagers have to offer–the complex thought patterns and conversations and identity development and sharing all the movies and books I’ve loved. Part of me cherishes this season.
Yet my heart is so world-weary from the greatest and most fearsome journey of my life. (That would be parenting.) The realities of raising children in this season threaten to bring me low. They cut deeply and leave marks on my heart.
(If I lift up the tail of my shirt right here, I have a story.)
Chapters of my parenting double my soul over in pain and loss. Sometimes these moments are nothing short of sacred, birthing God’s life into my family via pain.
But with many of my parenting questions, I’m still just trusting in God’s long game. I’m waiting on him. I believe he gives more than he takes; that he searches diligently for my kids when they wander (Luke 15); that for his own honor (not mine), he does “immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us” (Ephesians 3:20).
Lord, we pray we never find ourselves without hope, without a glimpse of the empty tomb each time we happen upon a cross. Help us begin our daily journey expecting both crosses and empty tombs and rejoicing when we encounter either because we know you are with us.
Some of you, like me, tread through dark days of parenting right now. You understand how people could arrive at old age a little hunched and lined, wizened and shrunken–if not physically, on the inside.
Having my old body, my old self back could never be worth the trade. (It wasn’t that spectacular in comparison anyway.) My scars mark where God has led me into love.
But more than that, when we choose God’s will, we follow a God with scars.
One of my favorite verses has been this one:
Can a woman forget her nursing child,
that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb?
Even these may forget,
yet I will not forget you.
Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are continually before me. (Isaiah 49:15-16)
My name was engraved with spikes on those palms that hold the world in his hands.
Even after Jesus rose from the dead, he didn’t lose the scars (see John 20:27). And in Revelation, we know Jesus appears as “a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain” (5:6).
If you asked him, he could tell you a story of a good King, betrayed and disbelieved, of a Son given as ransom for many. Of blood spattering, and neatly folded linen.
Put your finger here. See my hands.
In parenthood, we invite scars because of the Savior we follow and the way he loved.
Mark my words: Parenting will not leave you the same. In loving, there will be pain.
But in eternity, I doubt your scars will mask much, if any, regret.
I imagine there’s some parent out there like me right now. Spring weather finally crooks a finger, beckoning our kids outside…but as the end of the school year looms, there’s unfinished schoolwork (or just today’s chores) you’re not actually sure your child will accomplish. Like, ever. Tasks are colliding like an interstate pileup. How do you motivate a child without losing your ever-loving mind?
Well, I left my magic wand in my other computer. But in short, you’re searching for your unique child’s motivation DNA. As you consider how to motivate your child, here are a few thought’s I’m typing for my own sake.
Don’t just default to ways you’re personally motivated.
So here’s a question oddly relevant. With tasks you both want to do and don’t, what primarily motivates you to raise your bum from a chair and get ‘er done?
I’m guessing some of your answers, dear readers, fall into categories like these.
I want to do the right thing.
If someone thinks I should, I do.
I’m motivating by achieving/getting things done.
Let’s go with how I feel about it–following my energy levels, desire, comfort levels, etc.
I like feeling secure.
Let’s do what sounds like the most fun.
If you want me to do it…I actually don’t want to do it.
Making a unique contribution is important to me.
I like feeling in control.
Observation: For a long time, I’ve attempted to motivate my kids using the same ways I’m motivated.
This means pleasing/serving others, along with achievement, are highly motivating for me.
Know how your child’s motivation is different–and where the power of motivation should end.
Let’s take my eldest, who at his core, is quite different from me. When I try to convince him people will just love something! Or energize him with a goal! ...Well. He turns and walks out of the room.
If writing a handbook for him–an Enneagram 8, partly driven by his need to be against something–I’d title chapter one, Respect His Autonomy. As my mom used to put it when he was little, “He’s a lot more willing if he thinks it’s his idea.”
So for him, I emphasize his adult choice on whether to do the right thing.
Does this mean I abdicate teaching my oldest an obedient heart? That I’m always on the make for how to manipulate him and his desires?
No way. That doesn’t deal with a core heart issue of rebellion in his heart.
…Just like manipulating me as a kid through parental delight would have ignored my heart issues of being a wee little Pharisee, who basks in the praise of men: “They do all their deeds to be seen by others” (Matthew 23:5).
In the same vein, distracting a preschooler from their Oscar-worthy fit in the housewares aisle at Target (or worse, giving them candy or a screen, which could act as a reward) doesn’t actually help deal with their heart.
And BTW: Our kids don’t need to be constantly motivated by something other than obedience or doing what’s right or loving. Sometimes they just need to do the hard thing, like the rest of us have learned to do as adults.
The caveat: How not to use your knowledge of how to motivate a child.
This is a tool for God’s kingdom–to continue to woo our kids toward His ways. It’s a way to raise our kids according to their unique bent (Proverbs 22:6), working with their natural momentum rather than constantly uphill.
For my artistic daughter, art and creativity are natural ways to draw her into God’s Word or serving people or a thriving prayer life. My energetic last-born dives into The Action Bible and the outlandish humor of What’s in the Bible with Buck Denver?
Finding out how our kids are motivated isn’t a tool to use for our kingdom, our will be done.
And that’s why it’s key to know how we as parents are motivated. Because our own goals to motivate a child aren’t always pure.
We might feel shame if our child doesn’t achieve or look the right way. It might be disproportionately embarrassing if our child has poor social skills. We might feel fear if they’re struggling with anxiety or depression, causing us to be reactive rather than helpful, compassionate, and wise.
As parents, we rarely want things entirely for the good of our child and the good of God’s Kingdom. It’s great to want our kids to achieve or be classy or be healthy. But those need to fall in their proper order, not swelling into shame (on us, or cast on them) or inordinate anxiety.
We need to tease out our real desires. Then we can offer those longings to God’s control–and they’ll possess less power to manipulate us from behind.
Time for a two-column list.
Take time to prayerfully observe what makes your child want to do things. If they love cheerleading, why do they love it? Does your daughter love the precise, controlled outcomes of science? Does your son value speech and debate because he wants a unique opinion?
Try this two-column list.
Possibly with a spouse’s help, create a “brain dump” of what your child loves. To what are they naturally drawn? Think, too about the reasons you suspect for that motivation, beneath the activities themselves.
Then, with God’s workmanship and the unique makeup of your child in mind–not remaking your child in your own image!–make a (short) list of key target behaviors.
How can you wisely (and prayerfully) tie a motivator to a behavior?
Obviously, keep an eye to emotional health. If your child lives for his 45 minutes of screen time at the end of the day, taking it all away to get him to chew with his mouth closed, for the love of Mike could seem unjust, making your child feel misunderstood.
Or is it truly wise to take away time with friends for your homeschooled child?
As you can, talk to your child–and ask questions–about how they’re motivated, and what you perceive. All of us need to know how to get our own motors running.
How to motivate a child: What you can’t do.
When we first have kids, God gives us a kindness–the understanding we can have some level of control, some ability to shape our kids. We understand there are clearly ways to motivate a child (taking away consequences, giving rewards), and we possess a lot of them.
But as they inch closer to adulthood, kids undergo that healthy process of differentiation; of becoming someone different than we are. As a veteran missionary once told me,
When your kids turn about 11, you really start hitting your knees. You realize you really can’t change their hearts.
And that’s been my own critical lesson in this season of teens. (Sometimes this lesson feels like fear galloping through me like wild horses.)
I can and should do everything in my power to shape my kids toward God. But as Paul reminds me,
I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. (1 Corinthians 3:6-7)
It’s God who ultimately changes my kids’ hearts. I remember the ancient story of Ruth, who
trusted God by leaving her home country.
worked diligently, getting out in the fields to harvest.
watched as God shocked her sandals off by doing far more than she imagined–not only bringing her a stellar husband but giving her a child–and ancestor of Jesus.
No, there’s no promise that if we parent well and trust God, we’ll have motivated, phenomenal kids. (Remember, God is the father figure in the story of the prodigal son).
But continuing to seek God on how to motivate them toward him and his ways? That’s worth my effort.
As part of the premise of this blog, I commit to uncomfortable conversations worth having. And the onus of that falls on me—toward authenticity in the midst of my own doubt and weirdness.
So today, I’m opening the convo with something I regret.
I regret sabotaging my own engagement to my husband. This falls in the regret category because 21 years later, there are (thankfully, so thankfully) few decisions I regret less than marrying my husband.
Every now and then I think, What if I didn’t have you?
But at that time–when most girls are elated in the cotton-candy ecstasy of A-lines and invitations and registries–the decision felt murky.
So I’d arrived at college with remaining single for God’s sake (…literally) as my default mode. It means I didn’t see pairing up necessarily as a way to honor God, but as something that might well detract from that. Dating implied I was a mere mortal.
And who I would marry carried tremendous weight—not something I necessarily disagree with; few decisions alter one’s life more. Yet I’ll concede nearly all of us at some point wonder, “Did I marry the right person?”
And at that point, our faith is ultimately in the Cosigner of our marriage—God—not in a spouse being the ideal person.
But the plot thickens. At the time I met my not-yet-husband, I saw myself as going overseas. And he didn’t.
“I don’t have the gift of evangelism,” he reasoned.
Two decades later, marrying my husband is one of the top five choices in my life that has sought God’s Kingdom (Matthew 6:33). It’s also easy to recognize I would have been the World’s Worst, Most Insecure and Destructive Missionary had I gone out single. I would have replicated my unseen brokenness.
My marriage, my particular husband, is a place of wholeness-making for me. It’s where I personally am saturated in the Gospel.
You can tell, though, how 21 years ago, doubt was real. (And did I mention I was 19 years old?)
In hindsight, I do regret I couldn’t throw myself fully into the bliss of being engaged. Small arguments with my fiance or someone’s raised eyebrows (let’s be honest–even if I imagined their eyebrows arching) placed a finger on the scale of my doubt.
And I missed out on some joy I can’t get back.
Doubt, and Self-Sabotaging Once Again
This came to mind this past week when an old enemy swept me up:
Fear.
On our first couple of days on a family getaway to a remote cabin, anxiety gathered beneath my ribcage. My kids’ weaknesses seemed on full display—translating fluidly into my own failure, and all that could happen in the future.
The pairings of kids who fight all the time were, in fact, fighting all the time, employing petty, cutting insults and roaring overreactions. My teenagers were acting like (GAH!) teenagers. Whereas I was forming some free time into a bit of a spiritual retreat, my kids were drawn to screens like moths to a flame. (Acting like kids! GAH!)
So much of what I wanted for my kids spiritually and in their character seemed to be circling the drain. (My heart turns melodramatic when in pain. And BTW? Having a book coming out on parenting compounds everything. I’ve joked about retitling it I’ve Got Nothin’.)
And I didn’t anticipate how launching teenagers into the world they would feel so…unfinished, so vulnerable and un-ready. (I almost typed “half-baked.”)
I responded to my doubt with more inputs into my kids’ lives, more “helpful nudging”, more control. This, as it happens, is a bit of a vacation-killer.
My husband cast me more than one Look during a round of Nerts or Never Have I Ever. Is that really a battle we need to pick right now?
Praying about this, I realized fear was doing what our Enemy loves to do: steal, kill, and destroy. Namely, it was robbing me of my gratitude and delight in my kids.
I don’t have many vacation days left with my teenagers. But as to regret: I’d spent at least one nitpicking and driving rather than enjoying them.
Memos on Parenting and Doubt
Observations on keeping fear in check:
I had to walk through doubt. I couldn’t just pretend it wasn’t there.
And the presence of doubt twenty years ago and now does mean I ask myself thoughtful questions.
But there’s a difference between bringing that fear, my whole self, to God—and twisting my zoom lens continually on the fear rather than the God so much…so much…bigger.
I’d rather pray Show me your glory in my kids and this family, Lord–rather than praying for my custom-ordered kids.
My God is not reluctant to give more of himself to me, to my kids.
This afternoon I prayed Ephesians 3:14-19 for them, to the God who loves to do “far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us” (v. 20).
Some of my doubt over scarcity–not having what I want for my kids (in them or in my own inadequacy) stems from my own lack of rootedness in God’s love.
Does this mean God promises me faithful kids if I just believe?
Nope. It just means I can trust him to love me deeply and well. Even when I don’t find success on what matters most to me.
Enjoying my kids–and not being anxious–requires a looser schedule.
Recently I’ve watched old home movies of myself with the kids when they were young.
People used to tell me the days were long but the years were short, yada yada–but I remember thinking, That’s cool. But hey, I’m basically running a preschool. If you’re thinking I should enjoy them, mind folding a load of laundry so I can take a shower?
And there in the first days on vacation, I was still running in 5th gear after trying to just get on vacation. But seeing what God’s doing in our kids, choosing thankfulness, and responding with emotional health simply takes capacity. It takes paring down the rest of our lives so we have space to see them; space to stay off autopilot (which for me, is where anxiety heightens.)
Functioning out of faith–rather than terror–transforms me as a parent. Twenty years from now, here’s to not regretting these sweet days.
My eleven-year-old put into words what likely more than one American has been thinking about the tragic and troubling events of January 6. “2021 was supposed to be better than 2020! We’re only six days in!”
And then there was my 16-year-old’s assessment. “If we were describing the U.S. in terms of health, I’d say we’re spiking a fever.”
Remember all those posts about awareness of your stressed self? The cumulative events leading to Wednesday’s storming of the U.S. capitol building–including 4 deaths and 50+ events–is yet another in a wearying, frustrating string of events we’re trying to explain to our kids while sorting them out ourselves.
To the fullness of what’s age-appropriate, talk about it.
Conversations about world events–and any events in our kids’ lives–are chances to impart a godward worldview. To show our kids God’s ways:
You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.
Deuteronomy 6:7
We don’t need to shove events under the rug so our kids don’t get anxious or don’t grapple with reality. We can teach resilience and thoughtfulness, and bring Jesus all the way into our world.
Yes, be conscious of your individual kids and how they’ll interface with another disaster. But snowplowing the real world out of our home is rarely the way we want to go in raising world-changers.
Let’s talk about this together.
Tell them this isn’t okay.
The conversation in my kitchen this morning actually turned to whether yesterday’s reactions are ever justified in the name of any convictions.
Whether you share the protesters’ convictions or not, I frequently have healthy conversations with my testosterone-charged teenaged sons–one of whom aspires to the military–about how we handle injustice.
And if/when the Bible ever justifies force or subversion under the new covenant.
What’s God Think About This?
The past few months have had my own family mulling over the lives of men like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Peter (who cut off a servant’s ear in the name of Jesus) and commentaries on passages like
Romans 13 (commanding submission to government…and written beneath Nero’s persecuting rule)
Matthew 5:43-48 (about turning the other cheek)
Romans 12:17-21 (“Repay no one evil for evil…so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.Beloved, never avenge yourselves…Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”)
Luke 22:36-37 (where Jesus tells the disciples to buy swords)
John 18:22-23 (where Jesus rebukes a person who strikes him)
The short, very tenuous understanding we’re developing: Jesus commands resisting personal revenge and insults, but still advocates self-defense and the rescue of those in our care (see Psalm 72:12-14 and 82:3-4)–like those we rescue from trafficking (sometimes by force) and abusive situations.
If we’re going to declare this constitutional system as lacking legitimacy, we better understand that there will be something far, far worse to take its place.
Our kids must understand violence is simply not the way of the people of God with the exception of very few circumstances (i.e. someone’s breaking into your home and could kill your family).
Violence is condemned throughout Scripture: “[The Lord’s] soul hates the wicked and the one who loves violence” (Psalm 11:15).
Ordered liberty, Mohler explains, was put to the test yesterday. At the end of the day, it proved resilient.
Let’s teach kids to trust not their own ability to wield power–or even to place their hope in government–but in the God who removes kings and sets up kings (Daniel 2:20-21), who is Lord over all.
Show your faith in God’s control.
And in that vein, rather than yet another year of hand-wringing–our hope has never been rooted in the United States government and its stability.
Our trust in the Prince of Peace, who as long as he sees fit, upholds peace in our country as he does anywhere peace is found (in Revelation 6, that peace is taken away).
Our hope is built on nothing less. When you and your kids are–like the rest of us–tempted by fear and worry, sink into truth. Write them on your marker boards, your forearms, your sticky notes and bathroom mirrors. Pray them before bed.
For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control. (2 Timothy 1:7)
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6-7)
Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you. (Deuteronomy 41:6)
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1:9)
Pray together for our country.
Last night, our dinner table discussion was pretty animated. I wasn’t fond of all the reactions, but my husband and I generally to try to create a family culture of less outright censorship, more discussion, y’know? January 6 happened. Let’s chat.
But at the end, I experience one of those Gosh, I’m glad I married you moments.
Because my husband just said, “Let’s just take some time to pray about this.”
And my kids dropped their forks, and we did.
If our nation is in metaphor spiking a fever, showing its own signs of infection–let us continue to “seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare” (Jeremiah 29:7).
Teach them how to deal with their own anger.
Because this post could get reeeeeeally long, please find my practical ideas in the article I wrote for FamilyLife.com, Raising Kids in Outrage Culture.
I’ll expand on these in my book releasing this fall, Permanent Markers: Creative Choices for Holy Moments with Your Kids. (I know, I know. Shameless plug.)
While living in Uganda, my language acquisition developed to an equivalent of that drunken-sailor lurch of a new toddler. That is, my ability to speak resembled lurching, grinning, and occasionally falling on my rear.
And of course just because you can speak a language doesn’t mean you use it in the same ways. I’d occasionally get weird looks for wishing someone Merry Christmas (Seku Kulu enungi!) in December. Apparently Ugandans keep this phrase pretty much for Christmas day.
On the other hand, Omwaka omulungi!–“Happy New Year!”–was wished to me whenever someone would see me the first time in the new year, even if you saw the person in, say, March.
I had to ask a Ugandan friend about what I perceived: Was New Year’s actually a bigger holiday than Christmas?
My friend affirmed this. She explained that to Ugandans, to make it to a new year was a gift they couldn’t take for granted.
Average yearly take-home pay is $12K; average life span when we arrived was 52; risk for infectious disease is considered “very high”. Repeatedly in conversations, Ugandans referred to life as “struggle”.
I’ve thought about that as so many of us laugh about 2020 finally. Ending.
This author makes the case that one of the lessons of 2020 is that, in fact, our ingratitude–“How many things did we fail to recognize as God’s blessings in 2019?”
When Looking Ahead Doesn’t Look Good
After a hard year, I’ve tended to have a sense of foreboding, of glass-is-half-empty brand of hand-wringing.
Personally, in my haste to shuck off the loss and grief and polarization of this year, I tend to space the 1,095 or so meals God sat before me. The 36.5 million times or so my heart beat, even as I slept. The fact that I have four living children-turning-adults, running around and creating healthy, generally laughter-filled havoc every day of the year.
And clutching a list of gratitudes, I step with a little more confidence, a little more faith.
Questions to Help You Thoughtfully Begin New Year 2021
In light of this, I’ve scraped together some ideas to help us both thoughtfully start a New Year 2021 with trust.
A note: Before you begin, think about 2-3 “feeling” words that would describe where you’re at right now.
Why? Because it does color how you think. Walking last Sunday, I realized some embarrassment and fear I was feeling from a small (I would have said inconsequential) event that day filtered my thoughts and goal-setting and prayers.
If you’re feeling ambitious or afraid or low, use that knowledge to temper your goals.
6 Questions to Help You Remember
Tip: Process these before the below “6 Questions to Look Forward and Set Goals.”
For what am thankful from this past year? What am I most thankful for?
Month by month, what were the most important things that happened to me? How did I respond, or how am I still responding (from the inside out)?
What have been/are the greatest challenges in each area of my life (spiritually, physically, emotionally, socially, mentally, professionally, missionally, as a parent…)?
As I read this morning, suffering is key to understanding and reflecting the heart of God (see 2 Corinthians 4:6-18). He knows death is at the heart of love and resurrection.
What’s one character trait this past year has exposed that I seriously want to change to love God and people better? What’s one powerful step I could take toward change?
How have I most significantly experienced God this year? What names of God do I identify most with right now?
I'm totally #thatmom--the one diving into all the weirdness with my kids, sidestepping a few eyerolls.
Pull up a chair for practical ideas and discussions on the parenting, relationships, and spirituality we're all army-crawling through every day. After five and a half years in Uganda, my family and I returned to the U.S., where I write and speak professionally, and we continue to work on behalf of the poor. My first solo book, Permanent Markers: Spiritual Life Skills to Write on Your Kids' Hearts (Harvest House), released October 2021.
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