Let the Little Children Come

One of the things that I love about my church, Christ Church Nashville, is how they love on our children. The pastors all know and care about my children, and although Marella is a bit too young to grasp all of it, Reagan excitedly shouts their name when he sees any of them. He knows he is loved at church. He feels safe and secure at church. He thinks all the pastors and the church staff, from our Senior Pastor and on down, are his friends, and he's right.

A few weeks ago, one of our church members, a man who works with our youth, lost his wife. He showed up at church the next day, and I'm so glad he did. But while adults, myself included, may sometimes get lost in finding the right words to say, or worse, saying nothing out of fear of saying the wrong thing, our children in our church service, gathered around him and prayed for him.

I was standing in line with my husband to receive Communion, and I saw children -- maybe eight or ten of them -- laying their hands on this man and praying for him in his grief, and I lost it. I'm teary just thinking about it.

The faith of a child. Jesus Himself said,  "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." (Matt. 19:14)

I've heard that verse a lot, but it's only recently that I really understood it. I stumbled upon another verse, right before that verse, which I'm sure I've read time and time again, but I never really got it until recently.

Matthew 18:10: "See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven."

Did you read that? Did you get that?

"See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven."


Since I've grabbed hold of that verse, almost everything has changed in how I relate to my children. Because, maybe, just maybe, the veil between here and there, between Earth and Heaven, is thinnest when we are with children. If their angels are with my children, and also seeing the Father, then we are in a very real sense touching the face of God when we deal with children.

Isn't that AMAZING?

If the angels that surround my children always see the face of God, then that changes not only the big picture -- how I parent, how I relate to them, how I talk to them -- but it also changes the mundane. That third game of Chutes and Ladders, or that sixth story, or that time at the park when I want to be working suddenly seems like a spiritual act, maybe even an act of worship.

 (photo courtesy of Moments by Moser)

I wish I had Reagan's faith. This morning in Sunday School, when his teacher asked for prayer requests, he prayed that my little toe, which I injured Friday night, would get better. When I'm in a situation where we are giving prayer requests, I'm thinking about friends with illness, friends in grief, orphans all over the world. I'm not thinking about my toe. But to Reagan, it's a simple prayer request (and for the record, it feels much, much better today).

A couple years ago, when Reagan was two or maybe just turned three, a friend was having some vision problems. I told Reagan about it, and he wanted to pray for her, so we did. A couple days later, I told him that her vision problems went away. I was so excited, and he looked at me like he was confused, and said, "But Mommy, of course they did. We prayed for her, remember?"

Yes. 

I'll never, ever know the full story behind my brain tumor scare a couple years ago. I'll never know why two separate doctors told me it was behind my right eye, and why I had excruciating migraines, and then, suddenly, when a third doctor looked at the same scan the first two doctors looked at,  it was at the base of my skull and not behind my eye. 

I'll never know what really happened. It is entirely possible that two doctors read the scan wrong. It is. I don't question that.

But it's also possible that God heard the simple prayers of a two-year-old, who didn't know fancy words to use or the right combination of phrases to try and convince God to listen to him. All he knew was that he was home a lot with his Mommy who had to shut her eyes every night before Daddy got home, because the headaches were so bad, and he wanted the headaches to go away, so he prayed for God to take the tumor away.

I learn so much from my little boy. He has taught me more about grace and trust and faith than I have learned in a lifetime of sermons.

I want to be like Reagan. I want to have faith like him. I want to believe like him. And I want to be with him, and others like him, because maybe it's then that I fully understand the Father heart of God.

"See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven."

We Can't Have It All

Last week, I worked a lot. Like, all day, every day, for four days. While I've worked all but two months of Reagan's life, I'm now working more, and I love it. I love what I do, I love the experiences I get to have, and I love that I get to work usually from home.

But suffice it to say, last week was a challenge, albeit a mostly happy one. My husband was home in the mornings, and then my in-laws took over so I could get everything done. It was, I reasoned, the best of both worlds.

On Thursday, I was working from a coffee shop, and, while I was waiting on some information to finish an article, started a blog about being a working mother, and the difficulties, challenges and successes of filling that role. I waxed poetic about balance, having a hands-on father, splitting household chores and hoping I raised a son, and eventually a daughter, who see both their mother and their father worked hard to support them, while making sure we both had plenty of hands on time with them as well.

Blah blah blah blah blah.

I admit, I was feeling pretty good about life when I wrote it. I left to go run some errands, came home, and turned my article in early because I was itching to spend some time with my little boy. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I thought we'd play outside, maybe even go to the park.

I scooped his sweet little toddler self up and told him Mommy was ready to PLAY!! He asked if he could watch something on my computer. I said no, we were going to go outside to PLAY!!

He said, and I quote, "Mommy, go bye bye again. I want my Daddy back."

Just to make sure I got the message loud and clear, he repeated it for me. About 20 times.

And then I trashed the blog.

The truth is, we can't have it all. Or, at least not all at the same time.

I wrote before, in my knee-jerk reaction to an article by Amy Glass that crucified women who chose to stay home and raise their family, that whatever choice we make as mothers is for us the right choice, whether it's to take on a grueling job or to be a stay-at-home mom. When I said that, I was coming from a place of anger that another woman would dare criticize the choices that I make, and ones that my friends make.

But, now that I'm balancing working more with wanting to have time with my sweet son, I'm even more aware of just how challenging this balance is, and accepting the fact that there will rarely be a moment where everything swings in perfect harmony.

The working mother balance is not new to this generation. It's been going on for centuries, but at least we're finally getting some company. For the first time, at least that I am aware, the conversation is shifting to mothers and fathers. After Esquire posted an article on their website last year, saying that the issue is one that affects men and women, Hal Edward Runkel shared his thoughts on the balance teeter-totter that both parents face on the 'Today' show.

“It’s this ridiculous notion that we’re supposed to have everything we want at all the time we want it and that’s never going to happen,” Runkel said. “What we have to do is… prioritize. Figure out: what do you want most? Because failure is whenever we sacrifice what we want most for what we want right now.”

My husband and I have had many, many conversations about how we will continue to balance in the future. We don't have any answers yet, but we're open to exploring all options, however unconventional they might be. He shared a great article by writer Peter Mountford with me last week (read it here), about the struggle men face when they choose to stay home so their wife can work.

"The reality is that no parent I know—regardless of gender—has the luxury of making a choice about how he or she will balance the demands of work and childcare," he says. "The decision isn’t heroic or cowardly. It isn’t even a decision. No, this here—this is economics."

So, the truth is I work because I want to work, but also because I need to work. But, also, because I want to work. And for most of the time I was working last week, I was happy and fulfilled and thrilled in a way that, much as I love my son, I don't get while coloring outside with chalk or watching him go down the sliding board or putting a puzzle together.

I'm not going to lie -- I shed a few tears when he told me he wanted "my daddy" back. But, now that I'm several days removed from it, I see that I can choose to be grateful that he has such a wonderful, hands-on father. I am thankful that we have, so far, been able to avoid the high cost of child care while both contributing to our household finances. And someday, he too will understand the sacrifices I made, and the sacrifices we as a family made, which hurt in the moment but are better when considering the bigger picture.

I can't spend every moment with him. I get way more time with him than parents in some careers have. I don't get as much time with him as some other people have. But we can't have it both ways, so we have to choose, and we will continue to have to choose every day until he leaves home. It's an ongoing balancing act, without an easy answer, but with countless rewards on both sides of the pendulum.

Raising a Hands-On Child in a Hands-Free World

When my husband and I found out we were pregnant with our sweet little Reagan, who is now two years old, we sought out advice from almost everyone we knew who had children. We wanted to know what worked, what didn't work, and what mistakes other people had made, so we could learn from them. Part of being parents later in life, I think, makes us much more intentional in how we are raising our son, and eventually, our daughter.

One thing we have decided to do is make the conscious choice to stay away from a lot of the electronics and gadgets that fill so many homes. Truthfully, I've been contemplating a blog about this for some time, and then I read one by Renee Robinson, A Letter To My Boys (The Real Reason I Say No to Electronics), and she said everything I wanted to say so well, instead I'm just going to expound on a few of her well-articulated points.

We went out to eat for breakfast a few weeks ago, and Reagan and one other little girl, maybe a bit younger than Reagan, were the only two children in the small cafe. While her parents chatted, she was buried in an iPad, occupying her time.

I get it. I really, really get it. Believe me, I do. It is not an easy task keeping a toddler happy at a restaurant, or anywhere where there is a wait involved. But we choose to let him wait, and run the risk of him getting upset or bored or throwing a toddler-sized tantrum, because the truth is, life is full of waiting, and he might as well get used to it now.

Renee writes, "I want to talk to you when we are out to eat. I want to listen to your questions. I want to have training opportunities. I want to allow space for conversation that can take us deeper. And if you are always distracted with electronics, well… I might miss those moments."

Yep.

We've also made the decision to not bring electronics with us when we travel. So far, in Reagan's short little life, we have made four trips to PA and back (1600 miles round trip), and one trip to Florida, and he's done very well. Yes, we've had to make more stops when he gets bored and restless, and yes, it gets tiresome to find ways to keep him happy and content while strapped to a car seat, but we do it anyway. We do it because we both have such fond memories of road trips with our families, and I want Reagan to have those same memories. And, like Renee says, I don't want to miss a moment with him. If we had a car that played DVDs (which we don't), we would have missed so much, even on our 40-minute drive home the other night. We would have missed him making the animal sounds in the 'Barnyard Dance' book, which we have read so. many. times we can all recite it by memory. We would have missed him trying to make us laugh by making a series of funny noises, and then cracking himself up. We would have missed watching him read through some of his books on his own, looking very serious as he turned the pages (even though one was held upside down).

So much we would have missed if his eyes were glued to a screen.

"Yes, when we are waiting at a doctor’s office for an hour, it would be easier to quiet you with my phone. But if I did that, I fear I would send you a message that says I’d rather hush you than hear those precious words falling from your lips.

I can’t bear the thought of allowing you to miss out on the wonders and mysteries of this world. When you are transfixed on a screen, the beauty of this world will be lost to you. In every moment beauty is waiting to be discovered. I don’t want you to miss it."

My husband works for Brentwood Driver Training, and he says so many teenagers don't know how to get to their house, even when they are in their own neighborhood, because they've spent their lives looking down, instead of looking out. They've missed so much, because their eyes were transfixed on the small screen in front of them.

When I was growing up, my least favorite time of the week was Sunday afternoon. There was nothing worth watching on the three channels we could get on our TV, and my parents actually rested and took naps, and Lord only knows how many times I said, "I'm bored."

I'm so grateful for those times I was bored. I am almost positive if my parents hadn't given me the opportunity to be truly bored, I wouldn't have developed such a strong love of reading. Because there was literally nothing else to do, I buried myself in books ... and I still bury myself in books today. Had there been the option of an afternoon of video games and electronic devices, that would have become my world. Instead, I immersed myself in whatever book I brought home from the church library, sometimes reading them twice in a row, and my love of other worlds, other cultures, other possibilities, was born.

I'm not delving into the increase of ADHD with the increase of electronic devices, because frankly I don't know enough about it. I do know, though, from information a teacher friend of mine shared with me, that a video screen changes so fast, it's hard for children these days to keep focused on things that aren't rapidly changing.They are used to a screen changing every three to four seconds, so they are becoming bored when forced to sit in a classroom or focus on a text book.

But that's not why we say no to a lot of what has become common place in our society. It would be so much easier to appease him with a game, or stick him in front of a TV so we can get stuff done. But, we say no because this parenting journey isn't about us. It isn't about doing what's best, or easiest, for us. It's about giving our children the best tools possible to equip them for the world in front of them.

Lest people think we shut off the TV and have returned to the Dark Ages, we haven't. At all. Reagan is allowed two short shows or one long one (i.e: two Thomas the Tank Engines or one Calilou) when he wakes up in the morning and gets up from his naps. And, we have unashamedly used a TV show occasionally when we needed to occupy him for a few minutes. I did it last week when my husband had to leave for work, and I still had some work to finish for my job. My husband did it the other day when he was home alone with Reagan, making dinner, and Reagan kept trying to get too close to the stove. And, we plan on taking Reagan with us when we travel to India to bring his sister home, and I am absolutely positive we will take along plenty of electronic help. 20 hours in a plane is a long, long time for anyone, let alone an active little boy.

But, for day to day, we're going to continue to encourage him to play outside, to explore the world, and to even be bored at times.

"I want to watch your face illuminated by the majesty of life – not the glow of a screen. I want all of you. Because I only have you for a short while. When you pack up and leave for college, I want to look back with no regrets over the time I spent with you. I want to look back and remember how your eyes sparkled when we talked. I want to look back and remember how I actually knew those little quirky details of your life because we had time enough to be bored together."

 Our time with our son, and soon our children is so short. Too short. While I have him, I want all of him. I want to watch him draw pictures. I want to go for walks with him. I want to read to him and with him. I want to watch him build things with his blocks, when he's unaware I'm watching him, and he gets so serious he sticks his tongue out just a little bit while he's concentrating. I want to listen to him talk in the car about his day, or make funny noises. I want to watch him read books upside down and sing songs with him.

As he gets older, we understand it will become more difficult, and we will have to keep readjusting and re-evaluating to find what works for us -- and what works for us is not the template for what will work for everyone. At all. We all struggle and get bumps and bruises while we raise our families. There isn't one formula for everyone, and I get that. But I look to several of my friends who have remained largely technologically free as they raise their families, and I look at how their children have grown into such articulate, sensitive, caring, intelligent people, and I want that for our children. So, like everyone else, we soldier on, and hope that we make the best decisions for our sons and daughters in the process.