Posts filed under 'Father'
Recovering Joy (and a giveaway!)
Have you been attacked by Hafftoos?
Some days I really don’t want to be an adult. Responsibility is great and all, but enough is enough. I don’t like having too many people depend on me because — What if I fail? What if I can’t make everyone happy? What if I don’t fail and then they expect even more? Can I give more? Maybe I’m not giving enough. All this can make life seem like a lot of work. I mean a LOT of work. And then what I always wanted can feel like a burden. Not because I’ve changed my wants, but because I’ve changed my perspective.
I love having a clean house. Not because I enjoy cleaning; I actually hate cleaning. But I love having a home where my family feels comfortable and safe and happy. Cleaning is less a chore when I remember that I want the results.
No little girl enthusiastically proclaims that she wants to change poopy diapers when she grows up. That’s absurd! But almost every little girl dreams of being a mama. We put up with the dirty diapers, the piles of laundry, the stressful job, all because we want what comes with it — a healthy child, a welcoming home, a successful career. Hafftoos want us to focus on how much we hate the task rather than how much we want what comes with it.
In my little fairy tale, the Father tells the princess to “Seek and remember.” That may mean different things to different people. Maybe you need to seek the Father. Maybe you need to seek a new job or a tangible solution to a problem you face. Maybe you need to remember why you’re doing what you’re doing. Maybe you need to remember how much you love your family or your responsibilities or even just the results of the chores you dislike. I don’t know what it means to you, but I know that God wants His children to experience joy. If we seek Him, He will be found. If we remember all He’s done for us, we cannot help but be overwhelmed by His love for us. And therein we find joy.
Sally Clarkson is a wonderful writer. You may know her as the author of The Mission of Motherhood. She has a new book titled Dancing with My Father that addresses this exact issue. How, when we’ve been worn down by life and burdened by both hurts and blessings, can we rekindle our first awe of God, that inextinguishable joy we possessed as new believers? Through biblical insights and real-life stories (more…)
11 comments March 4, 2010
Battling the Hafftoos
Once upon a time a beautiful princess married a hunky, young prince. She possessed creativity and a zeal for life. Her new husband loved this about her. Sometimes her spontaneous actions backfired on both of them, but he still encouraged her to be the fabulous, fun person she was. Joy shone through her green eyes as she surveyed their future together.
In time the royal couple added children and a mortgage to their kingdom. The princess loved her family dearly and longed to create the perfect home for them. As the family grew, so did the gravity of her task. Laundry piled higher and higher in the castle turrets. This, among other royal duties, prevented the lovely princess from getting out as often as she would like. Always observant, the wicked Hafftoos decided this was the perfect time to attack.
Not every knows about Hafftoos. Not everyone can see them, but believe me: they are very real. These sneaky little trolls wander around ever so carefully through delightful and quaint villages stealing innocents’ joy. They transform tasks into chores and desires into burdens.
The imps began their attack with whispers. Quietly, gently they convinced the princess she needn’t do anything she didn’t want to do. (While it is true that princesses never need do anything they don’t want, the lie of the Hafftoos was the insinuation that her desires for the moment were all that mattered.)
Soon the princess realized she really did not like laundry. She also didn’t like doing dishes or cleaning floors. Before long she started neglecting the jobs she didn’t feel like doing. This gave her a superficial feeling of freedom, even a hint of superior arrogance, but it invited more aggression from the Hafftoos.
They poured strife on her marriage and then bitterness. The princess didn’t understand why she had to do everything around the castle, always with runny-nosed noisemakers under foot, while the prince simply took his carriage about the kingdom and spent his days with other courtiers. (Of course, the prince did much more than this, but the princess couldn’t acknowledge it because the Haftoos had convinced her that her desires and feelings were more important than the truth.)
Meanwhile, the prince didn’t understand why the princess had lost her passion for life. He had given her all she asked and more. Yet the princess was unhappy. The Hafftoos had made her feel like a slave to her blessings. Instead of enjoying the full life she possessed, she spent all her days managing it, all the while forgetting she had everything her heart desired.
One day the King, the most loving father a child could ever know, visited his daughter. They walked the gardens together until they found a special spot next to the glistening brook. There the King held the princess’s hand and asked her to look at her reflection in the still waters. She was startled to see drastic changes in her image. Her smile was gone. Her hair look dull and tangled. Instead of shining with delight, her eyes appeared hollow and acerbic. As she looked closer she saw something else: all the little Hafftoos hovering behind.
How long had they been there? Why hadn’t she noticed them before?
Tears streaming, she pleaded with her father for advice. “How do I get rid of them? How can I revive the person I once was?”
He answered with characteristic brevity: “Seek and remember.” He stood slowly with a wink, a chuckle and a pat to her knee. “You’ll figure it out.”
9 comments March 2, 2010
Untitled, unsettled
I saw a recent photo of my dad this weekend. His arms wrapped around two of my brothers while the sun drenched them and their wives with happiness.
My dad and I never had a healthy relationship. Never. Even when I tried, when he tried, when all apparent barriers were removed, it just didn’t work. Granted we did not always supply fervent persistence, but for twenty years we tried. For twenty years we failed.
Finally, I gave up. That sounds fatalistic, and perhaps it is, but I just couldn’t do it any more. The effort of trying and never being heard exhausted me. The emotional roller coaster of striving for approval and then almost instantly losing it again. I had been hurt too deeply too often. And I’m sure I hurt him too. I do not claim to be blameless. The cycle never improved, and my ability to survive it diminished.
Should toxic relationships continue? Should they be forced to endure simply because of obligation? Or blood relation? When nothing changes and it never gets better, should one persist?
Most days I feel justified in my choice to pursue him no longer. But then some days, like today, I wonder. I wonder if we ever really knew each other. I wonder if we had spent more time together, if we had tried a little harder, could we have made it work? Maybe I didn’t fully forgive. Maybe my expectations were unfair. Maybe we both judged too quickly. Maybe he has changed in the last ten years. Maybe …
Maybe I’m that seven-year-old girl all over again. Feeling lost and abandoned. Longing for just a hint of unconditional care. Wishing my life were even a little like all the beautiful stories I’ve read in books.
But I’m not that little girl. Once innocent and hopeful, this face now sports wrinkles and sun-spots, both more prevalent with each passing year. Once frivolous and carefree, I now have responsibilities that extend beyond myself. I have a family. I have children to protect. And while part of me wonders what could be, most of me refuses to subject these precious charges to the childhood I endured. Most of me knows I’m not strong enough to withstand the emotional paralysis trying again would likely cause.
A whisper gently encourages me:
“Sing to God, sing praises to His name;
Lift up a song for Him who rides through the deserts,
Whose name is the LORD, and exult before Him.
A father of the fatherless and a judge for the widows,
Is God in His holy habitation.
God makes a home for the lonely;
He leads out the prisoners into prosperity,
Only the rebellious dwell in a parched land.” (Psalm 68:4–6, NASB)
God is a Father. He is my Father.
He is a Judge and a Defender of those who cannot defend themselves, those who have been wronged and desperately need a warrior on their side. He defends me.
He comforts the lonely. Even me.
He frees prisoners and causes them to rejoice. Even those imprisoned by their past. He frees me from regret and guilt.
If only it were easier to take hold of all He offers.
9 comments February 27, 2010
Chasing God
“Sin wants the Father’s things but not the Father…”
I don’t know where this quote originates. I saw it on twitter, but we all know twitter can sometimes be a huge echo chamber. A friend says it sounds like “The Prodigal God”, but I’ve not yet read that book. All I know is that it is a true statement, a profound statement.
I’ve done a lot of thinking lately about expectations. More specifically about great expectations unmet.
I think of the lame man who I’m sure wanted to be healed by Jesus. What was he told? “Son, your sins are forgiven.” What did he think at those words? Jesus did, of course, heal him, but not until after He initiated a life-long debate of which is better and which requires more power. Is it easier to forgive sins or to heal the lame? Regardless of the answer, which do we seek? Do we want to be healed physically or healed spiritually?
This is just one small example. A greater example is Jesus Himself. He came as the illegitimate son of a young girl and her poor fiance. He was born in a barn or maybe a rugged cave, surrounded by animals and smelly shepherds. This was definitely not the entrance one would expect for the Savior of the world.
Then He goes on to disappoint by collecting a ragtag gang of followers, annoying the religious leaders and upsetting all of tradition with His revolutionary teaching. Finally, finally, the people get what they want when thirty-three years later He enters Jerusalem with a king’s promenade. Their Redeemer has come! That triumphal entry was supposed to lead to the overthrow of Rome and the healing of the nation of Israel. The people ached for physical, tangible relief. Hadn’t they waited long enough? And what did they get? A crucifixion.
They wanted the Father’s things … His peace, His healing, His salvation, His protection, His order.
But they didn’t want those things on God’s terms. They refused to see God as God, to recognize His plan as right. They wanted the end result of following God, but on their own terms and in their own timing.
So far I’ve looked back at people and events thousands of years past. But what about today? The Jews of the Bible are no different than us today. We still seek all the good of following God, but too often we seek His things and not Him. We dive into Scripture, not to know the Author, but to see how He can help us or what antidote He has for our current situation. We pray, begging for wisdom, but then only look in one direction because we already know the “right” answer.
I want to WANT the Father. I want to seek after Him and not just His things today. The awesome thing is that when we seek Him, He promises all those things will be added. He is a great and awesome god. We miss so much by grasping at the wrong things.
Tenth Avenue North has a song called “Beloved.” It’s an amazing song, but one line always catches in my throat: “You’ve been a mistress, my wife. You’re chasing lovers that won’t satisfy.”
What lovers are you chasing today?
I’m not a huge fan of music videos, but I love music and I want you to hear this song.
As a sidenote, if you don’t have the CD, you gotta get it. (CLICK HERE.) The whole album is tremendous. Beautiful, beautiful worship songs.
5 comments November 23, 2009
Special Because
How do you know you’re special? How do you know God loves you?
Too often I hear or people who claim confidence in God’s love because of their material blessings. They think God loves them more than the next person because they have good jobs and a happy life. They had sunshine on their wedding while others (like me) get a blizzard.
Even worse, I hear some claim God doesn’t love them, because if He did, then they would have more: more obedient kids, more vacation time, more clothes, more options. They would have better health, a better-looking spouse, better neighbors and a better house.
Is conviction of God’s love contingent upon what we see? What we have or don’t have? Where do you find confidence in His affections for you?
This weekend Rick brought home flowers, a gorgeous bouquet for me and a smaller, color-coordinated one for Ellie. I, of course, was touched, but Ellie’s reaction was priceless. She jumped up and down and yelled and hugged everyone. She simply couldn’t believe how much her daddy loved her. I mean, he brought her pink and purple flowers! Her favorite things in her favorite colors.
What caught my attention, though, was not her adoration of the flowers, but rather her focus on him. After making him a “thank you” picture, she bounced around the house, excitedly proclaiming this:
“I’m super special because I have my daddy!
I’m special because I love him!
I’m special because I made him this picture!
I’m special because he gave me FOUR kisses!”
We are special not because of what God gives us (even though He gives us A LOT!! Hello, people? Remember when He gave us His Son to die for our sins?) or who we are. Rather, it’s about who He is. We are special because we have Him. He has us and we have Him. That’s what makes us special.
We are super special because He loves us and gives Himself to us every day! Are we accepting Him?
We are special because we have the opportunity to love Him back! Are we?
We are special because we can do things that make Him happy! Are we painting “thank you” pictures with our lives? How are we giving back to Him?
Ellie’s heart overflowed with pride at the four kisses she received from her daddy. How many kisses has God given you today?
Anyone watch Ni Hao, Kai Lan? It’s a show for preschoolers on NickJr., kind of like Dora except with Mandarin Chinese instead of Spanish. At the beginning of each show, Kai Lan wakes the sun with a tickle. The sun then burst into a thousand little sun bubbles that go bouncing all around Kai Lan and her friends. That’s how I see God’s love. It’s there first thing in the morning, tickling and bouncing and flooding over us in a thousand delightful kisses.
So, tell me: what makes you special?
3 comments October 19, 2009
Recipe Swap Sunday: Mini Sausage Quiches
Happy Father’s Day!
I have to admit: this holiday has always been to me one of mixed emotions. My father and I had glimpses of a good relationship. We had moments in time, some that even stretched for a few months on end, in which everything seemed to be right. The father I longed to have in my life was actually there, real and tangible. But for most of my life, my dad was not that.
I spent twenty years wondering what my life would be like if those moments were the reality and not just a quickly-fading oasis. What if my relationship with my dad reflected all those I see in movies and with my friends? I did more than wonder. I prayed and worked and changed to bring about what I wanted.
Then, after finally realizing that I couldn’t dream away reality, that I couldn’t change what was real into what I fantasized it should be (even if I was right about what families should be!), I spent the next ten years healing. Rather, I spent them allowing God to heal me. In that time I witnessed some amazing things. My father-in-law, who has embraced me as his own … my husband, who is the most amazing father I’ve ever seen — better even than those in the movies! These two men have allowed me to be part of what should be. They’ve given me a better understanding of God the Father and the depths of His love for me. They’ve given me reason to praise Yahweh for all the blessings in my life, the greatest of which is watching my children grow up with “should-be” families, whole families that exhibit strong, godly men who love their wives and sacrifice for their children.
This is a good day. And I feel honored to have men in my life whom I may honor with thankfulness. When you know a man who gives so much, thanks seems so inadequate doesn’t it?
So I usually give thanks with food. 
This recipe is one of Rick’s favorites. It comes from my sister; I’ve no idea where she got it, but it’s great. It’s a little labor-intensive, but so very worth it. The first time you make it, set aside about an hour, start to finish. Once you get the hang of it, you should be able to throw them together in less time. If you don’t have that much time in the morning, cook the sausage the night before. This will allow you to get the whole thing done in under 30 minutes.
Mini Sausage Quiches
- 1 can refrigerated flaky biscuits dough
- 1 lbs ground breakfast sausage
- 2 eggs, slightly beaten
- 2 c cottage cheese
- ½ c parmesan cheese
- dash of pepper
- 2-3 scallions, chopped
Preheat oven to 375’. Cook and drain sausage.
Separate cold biscuits into thin layers. Place one layer in each well of a greased muffin pan. Spoon sausage into each well.
Mix remaining ingredients in a separate bowl and spoon over sausage. Bake at 375’ – about 15 minutes for mini muffins; 20 for regular size.
1 comment June 21, 2009
Mama Loves insatiable me.
Welcome to the second week of Mama Loves! I’ve been offline for a few days engrossed in the always more important real life — okay, “engaging” might be a bit too enthusiastic. More accurately, I’ve been working on that dining room project and, by the end of the day, am too tired to sit at the computer. All that aside, I’m hoping you’ll participate in spite of my recent silence and late posting here.
For more information about Mama Loves, visit this post. Remember: you do NOT have to be a mama to participate!! Feel free to use this button to mark your post, though it’s certainly not necessary. Don’t forget to link back here in your post and to sign the widget below. Without further ado, here’s what this mama loves.
Insatiable me. How’s that for pride? Let me try again.
I love how my kids can never get enough of me.
Some days this really drives me crazy, like when I can’t find privacy even in the shower. I’ve been known to lock my children in our warm, safe house while I sit freezing on the front porch just so I could have a few minutes of quiet, personal space. Yup, some days Mama does not love this, but most days I find it awesome and inspiring.
Why don’t they get tired of me? Don’t they see my many, many, many, many flaws? Why don’t they need personal space?
I watched them love all over me all day and then cry when we must be apart. Ellie, especially, maintains an insatiable desire to be with me. Not just with me in the same house, but doing what I’m doing and being right there with me. She can’t even eat dinner without touching me. Her little foot rubs against my leg all through the meal just so she can feel close to me. Sitting next to me is never enough. She wants to be on my lap, cheek to cheek with her frizzy curls tickling my nose and her spindly arms wrapped tightly around my neck.
One day in the not too distant future, I’ll have a different story to tell. My kids will be sick of me and they’ll prefer anyone’s company to mine. But for now I relish this time when all they want is me. To them the world is perfectly right as long as I’m there holding them. This child-like faith amazes me.
Therein lies the root of my fascination. This isn’t just an all-consuming adoration; it’s a faith stronger than any I’ve ever seen. They believe with their entire beings that I, a flawed mortal, can fix anything from a shattered toy to a scraped knee to the hurt in their hearts. They trust me implicitly with their safety, provision, unconditional affection. Never do they doubt my ability to perfectly care for them. It’s incredible!
And it’s what God wants from His children. What would happen if we loved God with such abandon? What if we never doubted Him? That doesn’t mean we can’t ask Him questions or wonder about His methods, but what if we really, fully trusted Him? What if we could never get enough of Him and His Word? What if we didn’t care about anything else as long as we’re with Him? Now we know God is powerful and we know He can fix anything, but do we live like we know it? Are we holding those truths in our heads or in our hearts? He’s immortal and void of imperfections; he’s infinitely more deserving of our faith than I am of my children’s faith and yet, too often, we hesitate. We hold back little pieces of our lives for ourselves, for us to control on our own. It’s so silly.
So, there you go. I love how my kids love me and how they teach me to love God.
All right, it’s your turn!
1 comment November 25, 2008
Puddle Jumping
It rained much the first half of our vacation. We didn’t mind because the storms were mostly at night. You know the kind: a beautiful display of power and nature; the rhythmic pelting of raindrops against our roof and windows. We slept soundly. We woke to dozens of puddles. The private lanes that brought us there, rutted and narrow, were now spotted with reflecting pools. Zach was thrilled!
It was chilly, but having nothing else to do, we decided to walk the beach. This was the first time Zach had been to the ocean since he started walking. (You may remember he didn’t walk until the summer he turned two.) I was excited to see his reaction. He and Ellie were both delighted with every little treasure they found: rocks, shells, seaweed, sand. And then we reached the water’s edge.
Ellie, Rick and I went right for it, touching the cold surf with our toes, catching the ocean breeze on our faces. It was great! I turned around to find Zach ankle-deep in a puddle behind us. He laughed and splashed and ran back and forth through it. We stood on the edge of one of the earth’s largest bodies of water and yet Zach couldn’t care less. All he wanted was his puddle. And he was perfectly happy with it. He was content to be a puddle jumper.
My family is in Kentucky. You can’t fly there without taking a puddle jumper. You know, the little planes that barely seat twenty people. Why do we call them “puddle jumpers?” They never get too high and are never in the air for too long. They just go from one small thing to another. That was Zach, jumping from one small thing to another.
I watched him delight in his puddle with the whole ocean just steps away. We urged him to try it, just get a little closer. We knew he would absolutely love it, but he resisted. He was comfortable with what he had already found.
I have two thoughts on this. First, sometimes it’s really good to be content. We don’t always need that bigger house or the more expensive clothes. We don’t always need to dive into something new. The ocean can be dangerous, especially for a little guy who hasn’t yet learned to swim. The tides can pull you in and under before you know it. Sometimes it’s best to be thrilled with a puddle.
But sometimes we are so content with our puddles — our little, comfortable belongings and lifestyles — that, even though we’re standing right next to it, we never jump in the ocean. We never take the risk and, as a result, we miss out on something so much greater.
So, what is God calling you to do? Is He asking you to be a joyous puddle-jumper? Or is He trying to show you the ocean? Is He, like a loving father, promising His protection and guidance if you’ll only jump in?
Add comment September 12, 2008
Today’s Soapbox
Have you seen the commercials for the movie Get Smart? My husband really wants to see this. In one of the commercials Agent Smart is flying through traffic or something next to a minivan. The kid in the back yells out: “Mom! Mom! Mom!” His mother halts her cell phone conversation to yell into the backseat: “Brad! Brad! Brad! Do you see how annoying that is?!”
Every mom can relate. We want to be there for our kids when they really need us, like when some man is flying by the car as we drive or the wrong thing gets flushed down the toilet, but the effect is lost when the “wolf” call is made too many times in less than dire situations. Or when they simply aren’t talking to us at all!
Here’s an actual conversation from this morning:
Ellie: “Mom!”
Me: “Yeah, babe?”
Ellie: “Mom!”
Me: “Yes?”
Ellie: “Mommy?”
Me: “What?”
Ellie: “Mom-meeeeee!”
Me: “What??”
Ellie: “MOM!!”
Me: “What?!! What do you want?”
Ellie: “Um …. um … um …”
And then she drifts off, not even looking at me.
I leave the room.
Three minutes later: “Mom!”
I return already frustrated from the earlier exchange: “Ellie. If you have something to tell me, just tell me. I’ve answered you a number of times and you’re not saying anything. If you call me, talk to me. Do you understand?”
Ellie: “Yes, Mom. Mom?”
Me: “Yes?”
Ellie: “Can I tell you something?”
Me: “Yes?”
Ellie: “Flowers smell nice.”
Ten minutes later I hear this from the basement where I’m doing laundry:
“MOM!! I NEED YOU!!!!”
I race up the stairs, but my kids’ voices are quite similar so I have no idea who made the distress call. Ellie’s sitting on the toilet and Zach is playing cars just outside the bathroom.
Me: “Who needs help?”
Ellie: “Zach.”
Zach: “No, I don’t.”
Me: “Zach, are you okay? Do you need something?”
Zach: “No.”
Me: “Ellie, what happened?”
Ellie: “Nothing.”
Me: “Did you call me?”
Ellie: “No.”
Me: “Who called me?”
Ellie: “I did.”
Me: “Why?”
Ellie: “I love you!”
I hate it when people use my name in vain. My mother seemed to think I was being sacriligious the first time I used this phrasing, but this is exactly what I mean to say. I cannot stand it when people call out to me without purpose. If there is no reason to use my name, then don’t. It’s irritating. Exasperating. And yes, annoying. I love my children to pieces! I love being their mom! But there is no reason for them to scream as if a limb has been severed when all they want to say is that they love me. There are better ways to give me this wonderful message.
Kinda makes me wonder how God feels when His name is used in vain. We say we love Him, to, but how often do we actually say it in a way that shows the heart of that message? You hear a hollow yet emphatic “Jesus” or “God” exclaimed much more frequently than you might hear “Tanya!” or “Oh my John!” I don’t want to be a Neuman where my name becomes a curse word and yet that’s just what has happened to the name of Christ. My heart cinches every time I hear someone use His name in vain. Can you imagine how hurtful this must be to Him? Imagine how many times God hears people call out to Him without purpose or meaning. Shame on us as a culture.
2 comments June 19, 2008
Desiring God
When kids get sick, they get clingy. Cuddling is great, but I need it in moderation. I like my personal space.
As a mom, I don’t get much. I’ve come to terms with the fact I’ll never use the toilet alone and will seldom take a shower without playing Peek-a-boo at the same time. There will always be someone touching me while I eat (usually with her feet) and another someone trying to steal my bed at night. Even household chores are group projects. I understand this is just the way things are and I’m okay with that. But after days and nights of touching and hugging and clinging and crying and synchronized poop sessions, I need solitude.
Zach understands. He’s an introvert. He likes people, but being with them exhausts him. He needs alone time to re-energize.
I gain energy by being with other adults, but I quickly become drained if my only interaction is with people under three feet tall. After a long day like that, I need quiet to refuel.
And then there’s Ellie. The definitive extrovert, she like a leech feeding off the energy of other people. Take away her social life and she quickly shrivels into a weary fount of tears. She can’t stand being alone. It’s the worse possible punishment for her. It exhausts her and she hates it.
This is why she can’t understand my need. She can’t get enough of me. We’ve had almost two weeks with just me and the kids. You’d think she’d be sick of me, but she’s not. “Mommy, I want you. I miss you. Sit with me. Play with me.” As I stifled another groan from the depths of my I-DON’T-WANT-TO spot, today I recognized the virtue of her affections.
One day in the not too distant future, this daughter of mine will want nothing to do with me. She’ll be too cool to hang with her old lady, and I’ll be wishing for more quality time with her. But for now she’s a child and she adores me. She wants to be with me every second of every day. Why aren’t we more like that with God?
We’re told only those who become like a child will enter the kingdom of Heaven (Matthew 18:3). Children love being with their parents. Moms and dads are the most popular people in the world to a preschooler. So, why aren’t we seeking our Father with as much persistence, passion and enthusiasm?
When I’m on the phone, Isabel is one step behind me the entire time. Sometimes I’m just walking to walk and sometimes it’s an attempt to get away from the kids and actually hear the person on the phone. It doesn’t matter to Ellie. She will chase me, anything she needs to do to make sure she’s with me, walking in my footsteps. Are you chasing God? Are you desiring nothing more than to be in His shadow, walking in His steps? I hope so.
It’s a challenge for me, a source of sanctification and of praise. Isn’t it great God never turns us away because He needs quiet? How awesome that He never tires of spending time with us!
2 comments May 6, 2008
