Category: Faith Lived Out

  • "My kids have been waiting for this to start ever since last summer!" said the smiling young mother as she wiped perspiration off her forehead. She swayed froBlog. MomandChild. 7.09m side to side, keeping her toddler quiet. "I brought our three oldest, plus two neighbor kids. Where do I sign in?"

    She and her kids were part of the impatient throng that crowded into our church for the first night of Vacation Bible School this week. "I love those hot dogs and watermelon!" her preschooler announced. "Are we gonna have 'em tomorrow night, too?" 

    I shook my head and answered, "I don't know what the kitchen crew is planning for tomorrow night. It's a surprise!"

    Once their laughing, jumping group was through I turned to the next. For 20 minutes or so parents and kids kept a dozen of us busy. Most moms and dads delivered their youngsters to their appropriate age groups, then hung around, waiting to see how it went. They needn't have bothered. Their excited kids were having too much fun to miss them. Once the parents were sure of that they walked back past our table to the door. Their faces telegraphed their feelings: Yeah! Two and a half hours of free time! 

    As of last night we were up to 230 kids attending, ages three through middle school. So far both kids and volunteers wear joyful expressions. Volunteers number at least 75, with the youngest age 13. The oldest is 92, loved by every kid. He's a feisty fellow who cleans up, empties trash cans and never frowns. Young to old, we work side by side, whether it's food prep, leading, crafts, putting away outside equipment or mopping floors. 

    Are we volunteers having fun? Yes. Would we do it again? Absolutely. Otherwise, why would we come back every year?

    Cynics might wonder whether any of the work or the expense is worth it. None of us knows…but God does. 

    What we know is that children arrive and learn about Jesus. They learn that God loves them and watches over them, so they need not fear. Kids take turns on the playground and wait their turns for snacks. They memorize songs about Jesus and friendship and being kind to others, then sing them while waving goodbye and skipping their way out of the building. Before, during and after this week, those children and their parents have been prayed for.

    I know several adults who first heard about Jesus at VBS, maybe only once or twice in their childhood. Yet they heard the Good News and seeds were planted. 

    So we rejoice. These parents know our VBS costs them nothing except gas money. Members of our church give this as a gift of love. We think all of it is more than worth it, if only for the fellowship we have and the joy it brings us.

    Believe me, we're not naive. We know for some parents all it means is a freebie, with child care as a bonus. That's okay. When a parent says, "This is our fourth/fifth/sixth year at your VBS. Our kids love it!" we all beam from ear to ear.

    They're here. We plant the seeds. The rest is up to God and his Spirit.

    Blessings,

    Lenore

    Question for you:What are your VBS memories? Why not share them with the rest of us?

  • Blog. graduates. 6.09 This feels like a season of milestones, doesn't it? One school year ends, and kids move up a grade. Young people put on caps and gowns and march solemnly, stepping in time to (what else?) "Pomp & Circumstance."

    Life is full of milestones, although often we don't recognize them at the time.

    Last night we did. My husband and I proudly watched one of our grandsons graduate from high school. On a beautiful June evening we sat in a stadium packed with joyful parents and exuberant family members and friends. Judging from the noise levels, excitement reigned. The general attitude seemed to be, "We/They made it!"

    Twelve years of education and hard work lie behind these high school graduates. Twelve years of Mom and Dad doing what moms and dads do, keeping an eye on things, loving their child, holding it all together.

    Watching that crowd of bright, talented young people brought a lump to my throat. The future stretches before them, filled with promise and opportunity they can't foresee.

    Graduations, however, always feel a touch bittersweet. As one of last night's speakers put it, "Now our years together come to an end."

    Yet the flip side of this "ending" also is a beginning. 

    What we call an ending often ushers in the beginning of something not yet seen and more wonderful than we can imagine.

    I'm newly aware of that right now. I recently spent time with an old friend who's in Hospice care. Following surgery and treatment for a malignant brain tumor, she's unable to speak more than two or three words. Her eyes and her typically beautiful smile, however, speak volumes, so she still communicates. 

    When I think of her and her husband, who has adored her since she was a teenager, I ache with sadness for them. Not so long ago their future stretched ahead of them and they dreamed wonderful dreams together. Now they can only look into each other's eyes and hold each other's hands every chance they get, hungry to hang on, yearning to freeze time and capture the moment.

    Yet peace shines from their eyes and radiates from their body language. 

    Before them lies an ending, you say. Not really, not for these two. They both believe in Jesus and have built their marriage and raised their children in Him. So they know they'll be together again. They believe one's last breath on earth is one's first breath in Heaven.

    One day my friend will "graduate" from earth. Before her will stretch a beautiful world the rest of us can't see…yet.

    We'll call it an "ending," but for her, it will be just the beginning. She'll be "movin' on up!" for real.

    And we will rejoice through our tears, just as we did at that graduation last night.

    Blessings,

    Lenore

    Your comments welcomed!

  • "We had such a wonderful life," the weeping husband told the counselor. "A good marriage, beautiful children, and we did everything right. At least, we thought we did. But now, now…What am I supposed to do now?"

    The counselor, known by all to be warm and caring, listened awhile. His response sounds shocking at first. "What I hear you saying is that someone ruined your Camelot." 

    Remember Camelot? Flowers always bloomed and the sun always shone. Brave knights rescued every maiden in distress. Ladies in lovely gowns sipped tea and cakes, yet never had to boil or bake. Who wouldn't want to live in such a magical, mystical, mythical place? 

    Except we don't. We live in the real world, with real people.

    More times than I want to admit, I forget that and set myself up for disappointment. Then like that weeping father, I grieve the loss of my dream and my self-image as much as anything.  

    Then what do we do? We love the sinner(s), as the counselor advised that dad to do, as God loves us. We take our pain to God, until finally we can leave it there. 

    Camelot would be a lovely place to visit, I suppose. But I wouldn't trade the joys and challenges of relating to real people. 

    How about you?

    Blessings,

    Lenore

    Agree or disagree? Your comments welcomed!   (Just click on the word, "Comments" in the small print at the end, then follow directions.)

  •     I don't know about you, but I'm tired of the continual doom-and-gloom talk everywhere we turn. I don't think it helps any of us.

        You know how it goes. One reporter will say, "If … then … and then … we couBlog. woman looking fearfulld … ." 

        The other talking head responds, "And that could lead to … which would mean that … and then … we'd have ____ more layoffs, which would mean ____ more people couldn't make their mortgage payments. Foreclosures will skyrocket in our area!" 

        Nobody seems to notice–or care–that everything starts with that little word, "if."

        For two minutes or so they've drummed up emotion and fear. Their facial expressions and tone of voice make it plain doom is imminent! Yet not one real thing has occurred. 

        It's way too easy to get sucked in to this whirlpool of misery. When I do it's no time until I'm venting to my husband … or vice versa. Soon we're forecasting personal doom based more on someone else's conjecture than on fact. 

       That quickly snatches the sunshine out of a room … or a life.

        So let's not join that crowd. Here's my proposal for coping with what comes. First, let's get a realistic grip on what affects our own lives and concentrate our energies there. Manage as wisely as we can, cut expenses where we can, appreciate what we already have. Living bountifully has nothing to do with having money. It's all about how we view our life.

        Second, let's look at what really matters and focus our attention there. Most of us would say that people matter more than things. So let's invest ourselves in other people. It costs nothing to speak encouragement or give someone a hug … and most of us could use more of both.

        Finally, let's count our blessings … over and over again. I think that's more than ticking off a list. Let's form a new habit: Pay attention to what is, more than longing for what isn't. Each time we do we'll feel more confident, more sure of our life, more at peace.

        When  we share a life, whether with a spouse or a child, little aggravations often cloud our vision. It helps to set them aside for awhile and look at this person with a stranger's eyes. Do we spot virtues we had been ignoring? Remember, small virtues count. (Ever forgotten to put out the garbage when your husband was out of town? Then you know what I mean.) If you feel shortchanged, ask God to enlarge your perception.

        If you live with those recording devices a.k.a., kids, remember that your attitude(s) become theirs. Your fear(s) become theirs … even when they never say a word or ask a question. No child ever is oblivious to their parents' state-of-mind.

        Finally, when it comes to fear, whether of recession, depression, or a change in government, let's remember who's in charge. Today I got an e-mail you may have received at some point, one with beautiful photography and a meaningful message. It points us to the verse in the center of the Bible: Psalm 118:8. This is the perfect motto for you and me in these troubled times … or any time.

    It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in man.

        Next time we're tempted to sink in despair, let's go back to this verse and pitch a tent.  Fortunes come and go. Governments rise and fall. Only One was there before the beginning and will be there after the end. Only One has proven to be absolutely trust-worthy over time. He's the one who watches over us and who blesses your life and mine.

        By the way, here's the address for that video I referenced above: 70670-TheBibleDV.pps (2473KB)   (Sorry, you'll need to copy, then paste it to access it.) Enjoy

        Have a refreshing weekend!

        Lenore

        What do you think about this? Your comments welcomed!         

     

        

     

  •     That sounds like a pointless statement, I suppose … or maybe wishful thinking. Yet isn't that what we all long to do, from the day our children are born? 

        Becoming a parent is like tapping into a vein of miracles. What parent hasn't fixated on tiny fingers and toes, imagining the future of our children? That miracle never stops, because all through their childhood years we marvel as we watch our kids change and develop.      Blog. Mother and baby. 1.09

        Some of us start off on this adventure feeling confident. After all, we've read stacks of books and observed all the ways other moms and dads mess up. We have no doubt we can avoid all those pitfalls. As a friend put it, "The only time I had all the answers on how to raise kids was before we had any."

        New parents often burst with pride. Others panic, afraid they're not ready. One new mom said, "I feel like I've been appointed 'it' for everything in my child's life!" 

        Actually, that's not so far from the truth. After we become parents it's up to us to provide TLC, food, shelter and guidance, 24/7. Which one of us ever feels ready for that?

        Before long we realize  we have more questions than answers. That state-of-mind turns out to go on all through our children's growing-up years, even though we're growing and stretching, too.

        So how do we "bless our children?" We give them what every human being longs for: the sense of being accepted and loved without ifs, ands, or buts. Some of us have experienced that and possess an inner security our entire lives. When we haven't, we may spend our lives trying to live up to what we think our parents wish we were. 

        Most of us would judge that freedom to be a lifetime gift, but how do we give it?

        It seems to me it's more than just saying, "I love you," over and over. We also study each child, not just their behavior, but their strengths and weaknesses. (If one or more of your children seems out-of-sync with you, or challenges you, welcome to a very large club.) As we do that we're more able to cooperate with who they are, the individual God made them to be.

       How do we "cooperate?" Imagine you want to play an instrument. You don't make music with a violin by blowing on it and you can't play a clarinet with a bow. Even gifted performers still need to respect the inherent qualities and capabilities of their instrument. So they study and they learn and they practice until they can bring out its music. 

        No two kids are alike, not sisters or brothers, not even twins. Each of us is one-of-a-kind. We bless our children when we allow them be who they are and find ways to help them develop the "music" inside themselves. To do that we keep on learning and growing–and praying–so we can parent them in ways that fit with who they are. 

        By now you're wondering if my husband and I always followed this excellent way as we reared our four girls. We loved them dearly, and we tried with all our hearts and all our might, but we  failed in lots of ways. We still do. Why? I've never found a better explanation than the Pennsylvania Dutch saying I spotted on a hearts-and-flowers wooden plaque: 

    "We get too soon old and too late smart."

         Parenting turns out to be a lifetime growth opportunity. Who knew? So we  start where we are, taking a good, long look at our children and ourselves. If we feel in over our heads, we seek out guidance. That may be a trusted, comfortable friend with older children, one who can mentor us and give us a wider perspective. It may be our pastor or a counselor that's been recommended. (First take time to check and be sure the lives of people you turn to stack up with what you want for your own.) 

        We give our kids a solid place to start from when they know we value them as individuals. Of course we need to plant the other good stuff, too, for balance. Is this easy? Almost never. Yet I've found that God is faithful to supply us with fresh strength for each day. One more thing. As we help our youngsters develop into the people God made them to be, we're doing the same for ourselves.  

       Through the days of this year, let's do more than speak our blessings to our children and families. Let's be a blessing, as well.

       When you doubt your capacity, remember that our needs never outstrip His supply!

        Lenore

        Agree or disagree? Your comments welcomed!

     

  •     We're about to enter the New Year … 2009! A period of time as unknown to us as if we were following a mountain path into thick fog. We only think we know what lies ahead. 

       I love some things about the arrival of another New Year, like putting uBlog. new-years-2p new calendars. Who could miss the symbolism of "off with the old, on with the new?"

        Whatever 2008 was … or wasn't … it lies behind us. Ahead lie 365 uncommitted days. Freedom! Freedom, that is, until I start writing in those unavoidables of life, the meetings and appointments already scheduled … and there will be more. That task makes me feel organized, but also weighed down as I watch those unsullied days fill up. Knowing I've chosen most of those commitments helps, but hey, they nail down my time. I'm one of those people who likes keeping her options open, because who knows what possibilities may arise?

        But then I get a grip. I wouldn't trade places with anyone. Many of those notations remind me that I'm needed, or I make a difference, or simply that I matter in someone else's life. There's nothing that brings more deep-down joy.

        At any point, you and I have this day, this moment. That's scary, but also comforting. We don't have to deal with 365 days, only the one we're living in. Still, beginning a new year feels like starting a journey, not quite sure where one will end up. None of can foretell what 2009 will bring.

        For years I had a piece of writing framed on my office wall, and I love it still. 

                                                   "The Gate of the Year"

        And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:  "Give me a light, that I may tread safely into the unknown!"                                    

        And he replied:   "Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.  That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way."    

                                                                                            –M. Louise Haskins 

         I can't say it better than that. So let's step off into the unknown with gusto! As long as we hold tight to the Father's hand, we'll be safe.

        May God watch over you and yours every day of the New Year!

        Lenore

        Your comments welcomed!

                                            

  •     Today is Christmas Eve, and just the words trigger so many memories for me. You see, my father was a pastor, so naturally our family life centered around our church. My earliest Christmas memories center around the small country church across the road and down just a bit from the parsonage in which we lived. We knew every family living within miles, and they Blog. St. John. Iosco.knew us.

         Most Sundays my mom played the organ, since, as everyone said, she could "make that  old organ talk!" Often my dad would not only preach a sermon, but also sing a solo, since he possessed a glorious tenor voice. For Christmas he'd sing, "The Birthday of a King," or "Oh, Holy Night," always to a hushed congregation. None of this seemed remarkable to me. These were my parents, doing what they did.   

        Christmas Eve centered around the children's program. We would practice for weeks, memorizing our "pieces," and the words to the Christmas songs we sang as a group. Anxiety would grip our little group–and our parents. Would we remember to go forward when it was our turn? Would we freeze when we looked out on that huge congregation of perhaps seventy-five people? Older kids got to recite the Old Testament prophecies, the ones with the big words. We sang "Away in a Manger," "Silent Night" and "O Little Town of Bethlehem" and of course, "Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful," and so many more.

     Blog. Iosco. Daddy. me. snow. Iosco church0002[1]    Did we have a white Christmas? Well, of course. It was Minnesota, after all. In that simpler time, shepherds of small flocks often also got to be shovelers of snow on church steps and walks. I'd tag along, stepping on the just-cleared spaces. I remember walking from our home to the church across that country road, our footsteps crunching and squeaking in the snow.

        With frost etching the windows, Bethlehem seemed very far away. To think of shepherds out on green hills, watching over their flocks of sheep seemed impossible to me, since to me, Christmas and snow went hand-in-hand.

        Yet we spoke and we sang of times and places far away … and somehow, we knew the truth of the familiar words of Luke 2:1-20. I could picture the scene. That lowly stable, filled with smelly cows and sheep and donkeys, and in the midst of it all, Mary and Joseph with the newborn baby Jesus, wrapped in cloths and lying in the manger full of hay. 

         Every year since I can remember, I've treasured the thought of the glory of the Lord shining around those shepherds and an angel appearing to them, announcing:

          Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the city of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign unto you; You will find the baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.

        Suddenly the sky was filled with angels, all praising the Lord. Only the lowly shepherds heard their glorious music, not the rulers, not the "important" people of the town.

        That still speaks to me. No matter who we are, or how many times we've messed up, or what's going on in our lives, the same Good News of Christmas applies. The Savior is born–to us! His love waits for us. He waits for us … and all he wants is for us to open our hearts to Him.  

        It's Christmas Eve. Time for new beginnings. Time for you and me to come to that tiny Child in the manger and kneel in wonder, as the shepherds did. That's all it takes, and the same peace and joy they felt can be ours, not just for a season but for always.

        Christmas Eve memories live on. So does the timeless Christmas story.

        I wish you a Blog. 90_18_74---Christmas-Candles_webMerry, Merry Christmas, and may your spirit be bright!

        Lenore

        Your comments welcomed!

        

  •     I'm keeping a count of how many times I'm asked, "Well, are you ready for Christmas?"

        Evidently every checker in the United States is trained to ask this  question. I still smile whenever I remember the time I answered, "No, I'm not. I really don't know how it can be time for Christmas already!

        My answer attracted the attention of a little woman in the aisle next to me. She looked to be about eight-five or so years of spunk. This rosy-cheeked lady fixed her sparkling blue eyes on me and took on the air of an old-timey school-marm. She left me no wiggle room at all. "But my dear!" she said, "All year long you've known it was coming!"

       Who could argue with that logic? Guess I'm a slow learner, for here I am, once again playing catch-up. Let's just say life intervened with my well-laid plans.Blog. Christmas ornament

        Getting ready for Christmas could leave a person feeling depleted. Too much to do, too many places to go, trees to trim, cards to write, packages to mail. So it could seem natural to feel depleted … if not for the fullness of Christmas.

        I feel that fullness every time we open a Christmas card and touch hearts with ones we love! Reading their notes and letters, we laugh, and at times we cry with them. Memories spring up out of nowhere, ready to be relived and flood the heart with joy all over again. Every year I scramble to write notes on the (copied) letters we send, and each one we receive feels like a gift from the heart.

        And have you noticed? People smile more in December. Perhaps that's because we focus on what we can give and what we can do for other people, rather than on what others could–or should, we think–do for us. We smile as we gather toys for toy drives and food for community food pantries and bake cookies for (it seems) the whole world. 

        That fits, because Christmas is the season for giving.Think about the name: "Christ-mas."

        This is the time to remember again the wonder of it all, the birth of the Christ child, Jesus. GOD come to earth in human form. The Gift beyond description.It seems inconsequential to dither over whether December 25th actually marks the date of his birth, because it falls at just the right time. In this season of dark mornings that hang on too long and cold, dark evenings that come too soon, we especially need the Light! 

        So if you, too, still have cards to write and packages to wrap and mail, let's breathe deep right now and rejoice. It's Christ-mas! True, bad news dominates the news and we still don't have peace on earth. Yet we can experience peace in our hearts, even in the midst of our rushing and scurrying.

        That peace will carry us through Christmas Day, through all our days … and beyond. 

        Happy rushing around! Here's wishing you peace, deep-down and lasting, and joy that makes your heart sing!

        Lenore

        What's your favorite part of Christmas? Your comments welcomed!

        

  •     Most of us do. We read the news–or we look around–and fear for our daughters and sons. We know how making wrong choices could change their lives. But it's easy to suppose we're too uninformed, so maybe it's best to "leave it to the experts."

        "Besides," one parent says to another, "today's teenagers are so much smarter than we were! I mean, they have all those sex education classes in school … And they're all so much more open than we were. They talk about everything–with all their friends. What can I possibly tell them that they don't already know? "

        True, schools offer (or require) that students attend age-appropriate sex education classes, starting before the teen years. In a typical class students will be instructed in how the body works, along with accurate terminology. They'll learn how a male and female have sex–in a variety of possible ways, sometimes along with analogies to "other animals" who mate. Straight and gay will be presented as equally normal and equally desirable. 

        Youngsters will hear statistics on teen pregnancy, how it can be riskier and have a negative impact on both teen parents for life. They'll be instructed in the various means of abortion available. Using "protection" of one kind or another will be emphasized, plus risks and benefits of each. Symptoms and prevalence of sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) and HIV/Aids will be presented, along with the need to always wear a condom. Self-gratification will be covered. The overall tone will be that whatever they're feeling is normal and natural, whether straight or gay, and that acting on urges is okay as long as you're "responsible" and "use protection." 

        You may be thinking, That just about covers it! But did you notice what's missing? 

        Most teachers are dedicated and caring, but here's the thing often overlooked. Unless your daughter or son attends a Christian school, the instructor almost certainly is required to offer facts, but just as certainly is not allowed to impose any moral teaching along with it. (Perhaps something like, "use things, not people" may be said, but don't count on more.)

        That's up to each mom and dad. Although that may seem senseless, probably it's for the best. As the parent, it's your privilege to help your kids understand what to do with who they are and what they know. You can offer insights and talk with them about how this fits into the framework of your own family's faith and standards–or does not. Who better than you, fellow struggler, to teach your children about how to live?

        Obviously, "sex education" alone is not enough. Take a look around next time you're in your local  shopping center. If it's like the ones I shop in, you'll see a lot of very young moms, often in pairs, pushing baby strollers. Some look happy, some don't. Once in awhile they're accompanied by a young male. Don't misunderstand, I am thankful these babies were allowed to be born! Yet these young women seem to me to provide walking evidence that "being informed" isn't enough to keep teenagersfrom short-circuiting their course through life.

        So what's a parent to do? Talk with your children, even though you feel awkward and fear they may laugh or groan. Talk, talk, talk. Seize the moment when your're watching a TV show and something makes you cringe. When you're chauffeuring your kids around. When you're cooking or cleaning up together. Pay attention to what's in their world (music lyrics, MTV, Internet sites, etc.) First, you need to be aware what your kids are exposed to. Second, you can't communicate with them if you lack a smidgen of insight into what's rattling around in their heads. Even good kids get sucked into media that would appall their parents. Those who market this stuff know how to make it appealing to young people.

        When should one start? Now! Once you have your antennae up, you'll find opportunities more often than you think. For example, suppose you spot one of those single teenage moms we mentioned before. Avoid criticism of individuals, but do ask how your child thinks this will impact the young mother and father. Talk casually about how glad you are that your children will want to be through with school and married before they start having babies. Let your daughter or son think it through and tell you how this would help an individual be more ready to be a parent. Would it be better for the child? If so, why? (Don't forget to search out examples of young people you admire, too.)

       Little everyday conversations, one upon the other, help your youngster gradually form a solid personal foundation. Your goal is that this beloved child comes to share your older-and-wiser view beforehand. That provides a basis upon which an adolescent can think through these urgent, complicated issues. Otherwise, hormones take charge. 

        Can you impose this view? Nope. Are there guarantees? Never. Will you pray? Always!

        Yet all the research and polling of teenagers point to one truth: More than any teacher, more than the best pastor or youth pastor, the parent influences the child. Kids learn when parents talk with them. But they probably learn more from watching and listening as their moms and dads talk with  and interact with their friends and neighbors. Young people assume that's when their parents reveal what they really believe vs. their "parent speak." (How's that for a shocker?)   

        I literally wrote the book–at least, one book–on talking to one's children about sex. It's part of CPH142139parent[1] the Learning about Sex series published by Concordia Publishing House, St. Louis.   

        Because I'm a mom who learned a lot along the way, this book features language any parent can understand. Rest assured, everything in it is based on solid medical information and Christian principles, and was checked by professionals in relevant fields. The emphasis throughout is on what Scripture teaches, that we are indeed, "fearfully and wonderfully made," and that our sexuality is God's gift, too precious to be squandered casually.  

        You'll find many books available now, a number of them Christian-based. I know these Series books best, of course. They're quality books, used in many Christian schools and praised by professionals. This Fifth Edition of the Series, newly illustrated and formatted, came out in July, 2008. As with each new edition before it, I revised and updated the text in my book. I always recheck the medical information and statistics, too, to ensure that everything is current, both in the text and in the extensive Glossary. I'm thankful this book fills a need and proud of the work I've done on it.  Believe me when I say that I prayed more earnestly while working on this book than on anything else I've ever written. (To order, go to www.cph.org )

        You see, like every other set of dads and moms since Adam and Eve, my husband and I did our best with what we knew at the moment. That's all any of us can do. In most places parents were expected to  educate their own children about sex. We tried … and did not excel. We stumbled and stammered, too, feeling inept. We gave our children some of the available books–and we did a lot of learning ourselves.

        Believe it or not, bookstores didn't feature yard-upon-yard of parenting  books, especially related  to sexuality. At the time we thought ourselves more enlightened and open than our parents–and we were. That's no excuse, just a statement of fact. You may look back and think your parents didn't prepare you for adolescence. Give them a break; like you, they were only human. (Trust me, someday you'll want your oh-so-with-it children to cut you some slack, as well.)

        Here's the bottom line. Bathe your parenting with prayer. When it comes to talking about sex with your children, pray God will give you the words. Then breathe deep and jump in. Trust God to "translate" your halting speech into truth in your child's heart. Soon you'll find yourself feeling more comfortable talking to your kids about sexuality. That's a good thing, because either you help your children form a life view of sexuality and what's right and wrong, or someone else will. Always, it's your choice. 

        Remember, you're not in this alone, because God loves your child even more than you. He loves it that you care–and so do I!

        Lenore

        Your comments welcomed!    

         

        

          

        Book.How to Talk. CPH142139parent[1]

  •     What do you remember of how the first Thanksgiving came to be?

        Let's step back in time to 1620. Probably we vaguely recall the Mayflower, the ship that brought those settlers from Plymouth, England, to North America. On a family vacation to the East Coast we visited Plymouth, MA. The Plimoth Plantation is a living history museum erected on the site of that original settlement. Anchored at the shore is the Mayflower II, a reproduction.

        How tiny that ship was! Yet 388 years ago people like you and me gathered their families and braved crossing the Atlantic on that ship. Once we stepped aboard, it seemed even smaller. Picture ceiling heights about 65 inches, with berths about 3 ft. by 6 ft. Costumed guides told us each passenger was allowed their berth, including space above and below it, for their trunks and chests. That small ship was crammed with food and supplies, household goods for their future homes, even goats.

        During their long, miserable voyage on the choppy Atlantic, two passengers died and many more sickened. They finally reached harbor on December 11, naming it New Plymouth.

    Blog. Antique postcard. Pilgrims%20landing_1     Imagine yourself one of that intrepid band, weary to the bone from the arduous journey, half-sick, undernourished on the diet of mostly oatmeal, turnips and dried ox tongues. Imagine your dismay at finally arriving at a typical Massachusetts December scene, probably much like this. 

        William Bradford, the first governor of the Plymouth colony, wrote: "Being thus arrived in a good harbor and brought safe to land, they fell upon their knees and blessed the God of heaven … They had now no friends to welcome them, no inns to entertain or refresh their weatherbeaten bodies, no houses, or much less towns to repair to, to seek for succor … What could now sustain them but the spirit of God and his grace?" 

        That first winter forty-four of the original colonists died. more would have died if not for the Mayflower captain's decision to remain anchored off-shore. With only one makeshift shelter on shore, that cramped ship remained "home" for many months. Once the weather warmed, the survivors finally could hunt the abundant game they had been unable to hunt when landing.

        An English-speaking native they named Squanto befriended them and helped arrange a peace treaty with the Wampanoags. Then Squanto showed them his people's ways of planting corn and other crops. Early summer brought drought, but by autumn these settlers harvested their crops. As they stored away food for the coming winter, they took stock. yes, they had survived, but they had made seven times more graves than huts. Only three families remained unbroken.                                                                                                              Blog. First Thanksgiving 

        Governor Bradford describes that time this way: The Lord sent them … seasonable showers, and through His blessing caused a fruitful and liberal harvest, to their no small comfort and rejoicing. For which mercy, in time cconvenient, they also set apart a day of Thanksgiving."

        So the settlers invited their Wampanoag friends to join them and welcomed the food and game they brought along. Together, they feasted and rejoiced. Those early settlers, at least, thanked God, even while remembering their departed family members and friends.

        This scene strikes me as especially poignant this year, when financial losses seem to affect  most of us, and we're anxious. I think those settlers we call Pilgrims have much to teach us about turning our eyes to what remains, rather than being fixed on what is lost.

        What if we added up what's good and right and meaningful in our own lives? Suppose we, like the Pilgrims, leave our accumulated pain with the Lord and thank Him for His presence with us. Could we, like them, simply trust our future to Him?

        A beloved Bible verse fits every day, but especially at Thanksgiving.

    Give thanks unto the LORD, for he is good, his love endures forever.     –Psalm 107:1

        That hard year was not the end of the Pilgrims' story. It was the beginning of a new chapter. That's worth considering, no matter what our age or our situation. 

        May you have a blessed Thanks-giving Day, and may you have family and friends to share it with! 

        Lenore

        What blessings are you thankful for? Your comments welcomed!