28 May 2013

This whole being sensitive about being sensitive is a bit too much... I mean, really????

I get it.

I really do.

I need to measure my words carefully. I need to avoid saying and doing things that I know will pointlessly wound others. I need to grieve with those who are grieving, weep with those who are weeping...


But what about choosing not to take offense at the things that others do, the things that others say?

...particularly when I understand that the point of those words or actions is not to hurt me, when I know for a matter of fact that the words or actions are not even expressly directed towards me. I can't expect or ask others not to celebrate simply because I'm not or can't. Instead, I'm exhorted to rejoice with those who are rejoicing, to laugh with those who are laughing...

Sometimes I read my fb feed or check out what blogs are trending and it sounds like the adult version of my kids in the back seat of the car after we've been traveling too long without a break:

"He's looking at me! Tell him to stop looking at me!"

************* or *************

"Stop touching me. Just get out of my space! Mama, would you make her stop!"

************* only instead it is *************

"I can't believe the pastor would say that from the pulpit. 
Doesn't he know how that might hurt someone?
Doesn't he know how that hurts me?"

************* or *************

"I really wish they wouldn't call attention to [you fill in the blank]
 because it leaves others feelings so left out or inadequate or a failure or..."

Seriously?
How can we show each other a little more grace and consideration?
How can we stop being so sensitive to ourselves and more sensitive to others?

27 May 2013

Encountering Jesus ~ It's the beginning of a showdown!

When I was little, I used to think thunderstorms (and we had some doozies out in Oklahoma where I grew up) were nothing more than Old West style showdowns between God and His angels versus Satan and his demons.

They were pretty scary, exciting things - especially when you threw tornadoes and hail into the mix. I remember many a time hearing the sirens begin to blare meaning we should find interior shelter... soon!

In these next few verses of John, we see a prequel to a showdown that makes any and every thunderstorm look like child's play.

For the last several months, I've been crawling my way through the book of John, looking at all of the different Jesus encounters recorded, seeking to learn more about my Lord and Savior as I do. This week, however, curiosity over the word I've been using all along... encounter... got the best of me. Kinda funny how God times these things, because I don't think these verses and that wondering haphazardly coincided.


Encounter as a verb is to meet, or confront, an adversary.

Encounter as a noun is the occurrence of said meeting, a confrontation between adversaries.

It doesn't sound very pleasant. We're not talking about a meeting between a couple of folks who already have a meeting of the minds. I'm slowly realizing that each Jesus encounter forces me to see myself as I am, to take stock of how even on my best days I fall short of any minimum standard of holiness. It ever reminds of just how much I need Him. On those days where I'm feeling self-confident, self-reliant... or just downright arrogant... that sort of confrontation is about as enjoyable as a nice hard slap to the face. That sort of confrontation always results in a skirmish... or even a full-fledged battle.

And that is how I'm understanding what happens as I finish studying the passage about a lame man walking.
The man went away, and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had made him well. For this reason the Jews were persecuting Jesus, because He was doing these things on the Sabbath.
But He answered them, “My Father is working until now, and I Myself am working.”
For this reason therefore the Jews were seeking all the more to kill Him, because He not only was breaking the Sabbath, but also was calling God His own Father, making Himself equal with God. (John 5:14-18)
The lame guy tells the Jews (and I'm assuming that this is the same group of men to whom he'd previously stated his ignorance about the man who healed him) that it was Jesus who had restored his body. Does he go back and look for them to set the record straight? Does he run into them again and someone asks him, again?  The text doesn't say anything more than he went away and told. The Greek word translated told does often contain the nuance of a formal announcement or proclamation, so perhaps he sought them out, perhaps he stumbled into them and wanted to set the record straight, perhaps he was overjoyed and was proclaiming the name of the One who'd wrought his very personal miracles. 

What did he tell them? Interestingly enough, the question the Jews had initially asked was who had told him to carry his mat. And the man answered - saying the one who had healed him so that he could now walk had directed him to carry his mat. This time, there is no mention of the mat. The man simply preached the simplest of Gospel messages:  "Jesus made me whole!"


And those Jews... Instead of celebrating the stepping out of the only One Who could step outside the box of men's practices and traditions in keeping the Law ... the only One Who could live not only the letter, but Who could also breathe the heart, the intent, the spirit behind the Law... those Jews chose the route of persecution.

The word translated as persecute, diókócan also be translated as earnestly pursue... More precisely, it means "to aggressively chase like a hunter pursuing a catch or a prize."


That really got me thinking to how easy it would be to flip from pursuing (recommended behavior) to persecuting (disobedience). If I'm not vigilant and very, very careful... I could switch from following hard after the Lord in this world to persecuting Him... as easily as I can flip a coin from heads to tails.

I'm reminded again how I like to keep the Pharisaical Jews as the caricature-ish bad guys of the Bible. Yet, quite literally, in the blink of an eye, I can become the same. Those sins of whitewashing and rule clinging and not listening - I'm not beyond those. And I won't be, in this lifetime at least.

I'd better not forget it... and watch carefully to make sure that by God's grace, the wrong face to that coin stays flipped down.

this week's gratitude list

(#'s 3852 - 3878)
Arabian nights and middle school musicals

2 weeks

friends praying with us for NO chicken pox to interfere with our travel plans

one garage sale down, one more to go

old Survivor episodes

Land Cruiser sold and gone

sugar cookies for breakfast

Ever heard of chicken stroganoff? Neither had I, until I decided to try it... Yummy special Sunday meal!

parents who want to talk about how their kids are doing in school

yummy midweek meals, just because

the last AP exam behind us

the last IGCSE exam behind us

waiting to hear scholarship results

an email that meant the world to me

holding my sad girl after her baby pigeon died

hard lessons learned... and the courage to sign up for those lessons

tickets sold

flyer designed... now hopefully people will want our kitties

ice cream parties for girls who love on babies at the orphanage

Thomas the Tank Train set given to children at another orphanage

elementary school pizza parties

homemade hummus and pita bread for dinner on a hot evening

another 50 kg sack of flour consumed... boy do we go through it fast!

emoticons that make me laugh out loud when they pop up

our van back to Midland... grandpa and sister who spent all day getting it there

sweet sixteen 

no spots, yet... we're still praying


Ten most recent posts in this series: 

25 May 2013

Sweet 16 today ~ and in her honor, my favorite photos recently scavenged from FB

At the Baby Welcome Center with Youseff sharing lots of hugs, cuddles and kisses...





At the Winter Banquet... 
all dressed up and lookin' pretty and hanging with one of our favorite Brits!



 


Happy SIXTEENTH Birthday, Rebekah Joy!
(I'd normally write more... but I'm still a little flabbergasted 
at trying to wrap my head around the fact that 
my girl is only 10 years younger than I was when her daddy and I got married.)


24 May 2013

Five Minute Friday ~ View

 

It catches me off-guard, what surprises me sometimes.

(And how's that for redundant... really!??)

Victoria did the other night... has it actually, already been a week? Time is flying these days!

Sahel Academy's middlers (i.e. grades 4-8) performed a musical. They've been preparing for this since January. There were tryouts, practices, dance lessons, choreographies, after school practices... Spring Break practices, dress rehearsal week, not to mention lots and lots of singing, dancing, acting, costuming, staging and giggling!

Instead of Sahel's little mini staging area at the front of the old-becoming-new dining hall (still very much in the construction, improvement, restoration phase), this production took place at one of the larger, more impressive venues in town... important enough so that the original performance date was changed because (according to the whispers I seem to remember hearing) THE President planned to speak there the originally scheduled night.

We sat in the front row... And even with that, I wished for a better telephoto lens because the girls were still all too far away as I looked through the view finder to try and take photos even as the chorus and dancers took their places on the stage and we waited for the musical to start.

The silly eighth grade boys started off with their opening dialogue, the one that sets the scene. Then the music starts and Victoria stands up and walks, all alone to the microphone. She looked so tiny. And so confident, too.

Those first few words were her, alone, singing - in front of all those people.

I knew she was going to - and yet? She still surprised me.




Why don't you join us ~ here's what you do... and make sure you link up, over @ Lisa Jo's!

"Set your timer, clear your head, for five minutes of free writing without worrying about getting it right.



1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..."

(Thanks to my friend, Shannon. She took the first photo in this post... and has shared several more that I'll be sure to post up soon on the blog!)




23 May 2013

On hot afternoons sitting by the side of the pool while the kids try and keep cool...

I've been reading young adult fiction again... although technically, I guess, when Orson Scott Card wrote Ender's Game back in the 1980s, he didn't realize how his book would appeal to that particular age group.

It did... Now there are middle school teachers teaching these books... and I'm encouraging my kids to read them and talk with me about what questions the books raise in their hearts and minds.

There's even a movie currently being made. The trailer was just released to You Tube this month.

Here's a short conversation between two characters... I just love the many directions questions and thoughtful pursuit of even just this short two pages of the book could go.
"So you see, Anton, the key you found has been turned, and it may be the salvation of the human race." 
"But the poor boy. to live his life so small, and then die as a giant." 
"Perhaps he'll be... amused at the irony." 
"How strange to think that my little key might turn out to be the salvation of the human race. From the invading beasts, anyway. Who will save us when we become our own enemy again." 
"We are not enemies, you and I." 
"Not many people are enemies to anyone. But the ones full of greed or hate, pride or fear -- their passion is strong enough to lever all the world into war." 
"If God can raise up a great soul to save us from one menace, might he not answer our prayers by raising up another when we need him?" 
"But Sister Carlotta, you know the boy you speak of was not raised up by god. He was created by a kidnapper, a baby-killer, an outlaw scientist."
"Do you know why Satan is so angry all of the time? Because whenever he works a particularly clever bit of mischief, God uses it to serve his own righteous purposes." 
"So God uses wicked people as his tools." 
"God gives us the freedom to create goodness out of that evil, for what is what he chooses." 
"So in the long run, God always wins." 
"Yes." 
"In the short run, though, it can be uncomfortable." 
"And when, in the past, would you have preferred to die, in stead of being alive here today?" 
"There it is. We get used to everything. We find hope in anything."
"That is why I've never understood suicide. Even those suffering from great depression or guilt -- don't they feel Christ the comforter in their hearts, giving them hope?" 
"You're asking me?" 
"God not being convenient, I ask a fellow mortal." 
"In my view, suicide is not really the wish for life to end." 
"What is it, then?" 
"It is the only way a powerless person can find to make everybody else look away from his shame. The wish is not to die, but to hide." 
"As Adam and Eve hid from the Lord." 
"Because they were naked." 
"If only such sad people could remember: Everyone is naked. Everyone wants to hide. But life is still sweet. Let it go on." 
"You don't believe that the Formics are the beast of the Apocalypse, then, Sister?" 
"No, Anton. I believe they are also children of God." 
"And yet you found this boy specifically so he could grow up to destroy them." 
"Defeat them. Besides, if God does not want them to die, they will not die." 
"And if God wants us to die, we will. Why do you work so hard, then?" 
"Because these hands of mine, I gave them to God, and I serve him as best I can. If he had not wanted me to find Bean, I would not have found him." 
"And if God wants the Formics to prevail?" 
"He'll find some other hands to do it. For that job, he can't have mine." (pp 236-237, Ender's Shadow)
THIS! 

This is why I love reading young adult fiction these days. It seems that writers of this genre are one of the few who aren't afraid to engage youth and teens (and anyone else willing to read) with hard questions.

This single, simple dialogue about God touches on so many great topics, asks so many searching questions that don't have easy to find addresses as we search for answers in the Word. It challenges with questions that - in my experience with my young people - teens are often thinking but afraid to actually voice - things like God's plans, His almighty-ness, what it means to be His follower, suicide, war, obedience, hope, what seems like injustice from our perspective...

Literature often gives adults a bridge to cross into the minds and perspectives of those younger generations, helping to build trust, relationship and practice at asking hard questions and learning to seek answers to those questions together...

It is easy to see a book, hear a few things about it and make a general snap judgment pronouncement as to whether it is good, or bad. I used to think that I'd just screen all the books my kids wanted to read. 

That was realistic, wasn't it?

Yeah... until my oldest hit about 6th grade. Now, with 6 prolific readers checking out the maximum they can every few weeks from the library, there's no way I could begin to keep up. And just because it is something my second grader is reading doesn't mean it isn't as likely to be nothing worth reading. 

It became pretty obvious, pretty quickly that we needed to work on teaching our kids discernment regarding, when to stop a book because it was not encouraging them to think on right, pure, good, honorable... things. 

They needed to learn how to ask hard questions and to think about the messages contained within the book - and whether those messages honored God or dishonored Him and how they should respond. 

I needed to stop thinking I could protect them from all the ugly in a sin stained world - for it isn't what is on the outside that makes them sinful. That wells up from within. They needed.

I also needed to understand that the Holy Spirit speaks His messages, impressing them deep into our hearts in many languages and experiences. A book that spoke deeply to my son's heart was nothing more than mindless entertainment for me. A book that could have easily draw me into sadness and depression instead elicits a sense of wonder at the complexity of human relationships and leads her to ask questions about how God could be seen in those different situations.

Too bad there isn't a 3 step formula to teach discernment. 

Rather, in my experience, learning discernment results from a lot of trial and error and in the process, increasing sensitivity, ability and willingness to hear God's voice and accept His truth.

By definition, that means there will be tries resulting in great success. And there will be some pretty epic failures as well. 

I want to celebrate the life impacting books with my children. I want to encourage them as they learn their own boundaries. I want to offer them a hand up when they fall... I want them to learn to let all that they do become worship, sacrifice and service to the Almighty.

21 May 2013

pancakes... WITH butter...


It was one of those things I gave up when we first came to Niger.  


Not the fresh-off-the-griddle-hot stack of fluffy pancakes.

Not the drizzled syrup.
(Sometimes, we even have friends walking off tarmacs bearing gifts of real maple...)

But the butter...

There were lots of reasons. Butter was expensive back then, and?

Not always available. 

So I just stopped eating it and then never started eating using butter on my pancakes again, even when we were back home in the States.

At least not until just recently. 

I'd forgotten just how delightful buttery and syrupy pancakes could be.

************************************
Please join me at Missionary Moms' Companion, where I'm near to finishing up a series on transitioning from the field to home assignment. And don't forget to join the conversation in the comments section after the post. Hope to see you there.

20 May 2013

Encountering Jesus ~ Jesus Encounter Take Two

Ever wonder what it's like to have Jesus come and find you... twice?

The Pool of Bethesda, by William Hogarth, 1736, retrieved from wikipaintings.org. 
Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, 

     “Behold, you have become well; do not sin anymore, so that nothing worse happens to you.”
The man went away, and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had made him well.For this reason the Jews were persecuting Jesus, because He was doing these things on the Sabbath.
But He answered them, “My Father is working until now, and I Myself am working.”
For this reason therefore the Jews were seeking all the more to kill Him, because He not only was breaking the Sabbath, but also was calling God His own Father, making Himself equal with God. (John 5:14-18)
This lame guy had that opportunity!


He's made whole and then he meets up with the Pharisees. They don't see the miracle. They disregard the grace. They totally miss the mercy. All they see is a violation of the traditional interpretation and application of God's command to keep the Sabbath day holy, to not work and follow God's example of not working that one day each week.


However, maybe those guys aren't all to blame... at least, not yet. Yes, they were to be on the lookout for a coming Messiah - but Jesus hadn't made any blanket revelations - yet. There were certainly whispers, clear signs and obviously a few knew. But it might be presumptuous to assume that the Pharisees were privy to this piece of knowledge when they questioned the no longer lame man. I wonder if they noticed that it was the formerly lame man walking around, or if all they noticed was the mat being carried?

And I started thinking about all the times I do just that very thing. My child makes a major accomplishment... yet all I notice is the part that still falls short; I note the portion that  doesn't meet my expectations. Sometimes I get so busy looking for those failings to try and correct them, I completely miss the growth... the becoming... Ouch! It stings when I see myself reflected a little too clearly by these bad guys in God's Word.

The lame man cannot really tell them too much of anything. 

I find it amazing that he didn't understand. Miracles like the blind seeing, mute speaking, deaf hearing and lame walking were clearly associated with the coming of the Messiah (Isaiah 35, for example). But then again, maybe that is an unfair expectation. Lame for 38 years, it's possible he hadn't been to the temple for that long as well - maybe he was searching for the priests to declare him healed. There is no indication of how old he is, either. Perhaps he hadn't heard the prophecies or the readings in the synagogue for literal decades? Perhaps shock dulled his thinking - after all, appendages that had only hung there for 4 decades were not only moving, they were supporting his weight and taking him places. When I think about it that way, it isn't so impossible to believe that he was so overwhelmed by the miracle that he too, like the Pharisees, missed seeing the Messiah in that first encounter.

So Jesus finds him again. 

That says something so powerful to me. Jesus found him again. 

Since having lived overseas, I can relate to that, at least more than I used to be able to. I've given to beggars on the side of the street. I've had guys who must be regular recipients of Tim's pocket money because on some street corners, I hear voices calling "Madame Tim...!" But I'll also never forget the night where I pulled up to a stop light and a little guy I'd never seen before came wordlessly to the door with his hand outstretched, asking for bread. When I told him I didn't have any in the car with me, his lower lip started to quiver, his eyes overflowed with tears, he nodded and he turned to walk away from the car. I'd had enough experience with beggars to recognize this could all have been another con, but that time, that moment, I felt compelled to do something. 

I knew a little food stand where I'd be able to buy some bread about half a mile away. I quickly informed my husband of what I was doing, raided his wallet of a bit of money and recruited a friend to drive while I looked for the little guy. It was getting dark out, after all. We hurried and soon we were back at that same stop light. He wasn't however. And try as we might to find him, we couldn't.

I was the one peering out the car window into the dark with silent tears rolling down my face as my friend finally turned the truck around to head home.

It is moments like that where my heart feels as though it is sliced hacked in two... or more... pieces. Moments where I realize afresh just what my Jesus did for me. I really tried to find that little guy that night and couldn't. The hope then disappointment, the anger then sadness, the misery of good intentions that didn't work out... Jesus feels all of that and more when He seeks after me and I hide or run from Him, when I'm so distracted by other and lesser things that I'm clueless, when I'm wandering off on my own.

In this story, though, Jesus located the guy. I'm sure some of you are saying, "Of course! He's God!" That's one of those questions I return to time and time again. When Jesus agreed to incarnation, to clothing Himself in flesh and physical mortal limitations, did that mean that, excluding miracle moments, He laid aside omniscience? Omnipotence? Omnipresence? Talk about rights and entitlements and there was no stretch or arrogance for Him to claim them as His own. Did Jesus limit His access to all those munitions and walk through life most days just as I do - dependent on Holy Spirit leading, wondering about the next best step, meandering through the crowd at the temple, hoping to find the guy He'd healed?

But, I've gotta stop sidetracking... or I'll never finish and capture the thought that's teasing and flitting around the perimeter of my mind even as I try and sneak up behind it while my fingers do the thinking.

Jesus walks up to this man and I've read so many commentators who think that this man's disability was the result of an earlier sin in his life. Perhaps. Perhaps not. I don't think that is key. What I see as so important is that the first time around, the used-to-be-lame man somehow missed encountering Jesus. That was the biggie. The previously lame man didn't recognize Who the Healer was. So just like I went back and tried to find that beggar boy, Jesus looked again for this man. Jesus was successful. He found him at the temple. he told Him to to and sin no more. I guess I tend to think the sin mentioned was a lack of faith... a limping choice perhaps to idolize the miracle instead of worshiping the one who'd wrought it.

The once-upon-a-time-lame-guy must have got it after that. For he then strode right into an "encounter" in the truest, traditional and historical sense of the word, as he began  acknowledging the name of the One Who'd restored him.


**********************************************
What miraculous-ness in your life are you tempted to worship, instead of bowing the knee and giving all back to the Maker of that miracle?

How do you combat that temptation... to do as Jesus says, "Go, and sin no more?"

this week's gratitude list

(#'s 3827 - 3851)

receiving this in an email:  Your two littlest, Elsie Mae and Mary Michelle, were adorable.  They cracked us up coming down to see if Dr. Haag could "come out and play"

being able to wholeheartedly agree with the above statement

family discussions about "if one of us was to get a tattoo, where would said person get it?" 

stalking fb conversations  young adults who want to better know and understand God

two interesting conversations about proselytizing in one single week

middle school musica

my middle school girls singing and dancing in said musical

invitations distributed

little girl singing herself to sleep, snuggled up next to her sister

looking at baby pics

driving a little car again... and one that handles oh so nicely

invitations and tickets checked off the list

 cloudy afternoon instead of a sun beating relentlessly down afternoon

M&M getting to go and hang out with friends

almost 16 year old singing and dancing through the kitchen as she washes the dishes

OREOS and Skittles and Starbursts

the countdown hitting below 25

another surprise blogging opportunity

one on line class done... two more to go

laughing over how virulently contagious a yawn can be

friends who inspire

friends who remember

family who are friends

that Nana and Pop pop are doing a little better

donuts with the dorm...  it will be the last time for awhile... perhaps even longer...



Ten most recent posts in this series: 

19 May 2013

Content...


"And it is not necessary to have great things to do. I turn my little omelette in the pan for the love of God; when it is finished, if I have nothing to do, I prostrate myself on the ground and adore my God, Who gave me the grace to make it, after which I arise, more content than a king. When I cannot do anything else, it is enough for me to have lifted a straw from the earth for the love of God.”



18 May 2013

school - it all comes down to choices... lots of grace and prayer... and Mama and Daddy and kids all just doing their best


Jonathan's first grade class on a field trip to the airport

We've done just about any and all of the school options ... except boarding school. That is only because we've never had to consider that option (although first child heads off to a college dorm this August... and yes, I know, that doesn't quite count). But just because we've never had to seriously consider it doesn't mean that we wouldn't. And very honestly, with the exception of home schooling and the eventual possibility of online classes, I don't think any of the other options were even on the table when we first landed on the African continent. I say "think" because I know they weren't, in my mind. I'm not sure if hubby was entertaining other possibilities at that point in time or not.

Wouldn't it be easier if these educational decisions were black and white sorts-a things?


Tori's class at the English language, international expat school
Tori's class a few years earlier, at the private, French local school
But they aren't. 

Even within one family, what works best for one child doesn't for another, while what goes beautifully one year may begin to flop and flounder the next. Then you somehow have to weigh all of that into the realities of family life, transportation, needed supplies and materials, financial issues, parent available time etc., etc., etc.

Playing with a flute quartet for graduation at the expat school.
Our kids have been home schooled, in local language (French) private schools (we haven't considered the public schools an option because teachers are on strike and school is canceled more than it is in session), and expat/international English language school. We've worked with tutors and fought through on line classes. We've also used various combinations of these possibilities within our family in the same school year... even part-time one/part-time another for specific children. Kids do benefit from consistency, but that also hasn't stopped us from making a change when warranted. 

A favorite field trip locale near town.
There are pros and cons to each possibility and every permutation. 

Our children have been bullied by both the local kids and the other expats when they went to French school. That forced us to teach them at a much younger than I ever dreamed of age how to protect themselves without picking fights and in ways that were culturally appropriate in two very different cultures. Our son learned (seriously) that Neil Armstrong's landing on the moon was all a big hoax and teased when he disagreed. One of our girls cried every. single. day. she went to school for the first 4 years. She also cried when she went to her horseback riding lessons. But she wanted to continue because she wanted to learn how to be brave enough to leave the house without Mom or Dad always by her side.


It's never a one size fits all situation: different positives outweigh different negatives for  every one our kids in every imaginable school set-up I can think of. 

A bigger question, I believe, is how we parent our children through those difficult school moments. That's much more important than belaboring "Did we make a bad choice?"


Our older kids are fluent in French and English and are culturally comfortable and adaptable. They see their privilege and are thankful for it. When I'm home schooling, we read, more than a lot - and they all love reading. Big kids help little kids with homework, be it from a classroom or be it home school activities. They have friends from all over the world. I mean, how cool is it that Elsie Mae has a classmate named God's Favour? Or that Brendan's graduating class is as African as it is western?


Home school allows explorations schools might not always be able to facilitate... which means kids can study a topic about which they are passionate and enjoy learning all for the sake of learning. Doing so in an African context just means we've got access to things like friends who keep pythons as pets...

I've also had to be careful that I haven't grafted my dreams onto my kids via their education - especially with the language issue. My five oldest are all very comfortable in French. The next two both have some significant learning issues - one has an articulation disorder and the other is being tested for an auditory processing disorder. The older one of those two started in French and he understands much of what he hears and can communicate well enough to feel comfortable playing with buddies. Once we switched him into an English environment, his specific disability issues started to improve, significantly.

Our kids have always loved their tanties, tontons, maitres, maitresses and teachers, regardless of what their schooling situation in a given year. In that, we've been tremendously blessed. In fact, sometimes, it was Mom who was the least favorite one, grumpiest and most slave driving-est!
Were those first years in French academically the very best choice for him? Quite possibly not. Do I regret them? Not at all... and neither does he. Am I sad that he's not going to have the benefit of a second language the way his older siblings do? Absolutely... but I also recognize that I'm a lot sadder about it than he is; for him, that 2nd language was simply a means to an end - street soccer fun. For me? I had to let go of an educational dream that had the potential of making me look like a better than average parent.


A hawk we hoped to rehabilitate - sadly, his wings were damaged beyond complete healing.
But it was fascinating watching our mama hen go into defensive mode to protect her chicks when such a fearsome predator was living just a few meters down.
So yes, there are pros and cons to each possibility. And I totally get that we want to make the very best choices for our kids. We should feel that responsibility. So we get the facts, pray a ton, make decisions and then run with them. That decision making process can be agonizing. 


There are... will be... times our choices work beautifully... 

other times we can make them work... and 

then from time to time we realize that we need to make a change... at the end of the school year... or even immediately, as in NOW! 

I'm actually having that exact same discussion with our oldest, only this time it is in relation to university studies. He's sought the Lord and he's making the very best choice he can see for this next year. We're going to support him in that and Lord-willing, somehow make it work. Then we'll re-evaluate and see if this is the direction we continue or if there needs to be a change. And change does not mean failure, on the part of us, on his part, or on the part of the school.

When I stopped looking at needing to change as a failure on my part and started seeing it as God continually giving me more and more insight into my children and their needs, a huge burden was lifted off my shoulders. 

I think it has also lifted a huge weight off my kids hearts and minds as well. They don't have this unintentional pressure always radiating from Mama that somehow their struggles mean Mama thinks she's goofed. They don't need to carry the burden of their mama thinking, believing or acting as if their progress and success defines her as either a good or bad mom.

What defines me as a good mom is my obedience and willingness to let God lead every step of the way, my willingness to trust Him with the well-being of my children, my appropriate authenticity as a seeker and follower just a little more experienced and road-wise, and my loving discipleship of these kids as I hold them with open hands and cooperate with God as He makes them into the amazing people He knows they can be.


(This post contains edited and expanded content
from a comment I made regarding school choice 
last month.)

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