Pressed to Pray by Susan Barclay

As moms and dads we do the best we can. We're limited by our personalities, temperaments, experiences, perceptions, knowledge (and probably a whole host of other things), but we love our children and as Christians it's our deepest longing that they'll grow up to love, serve and follow Christ. Unfortunately, no matter how well we parent (or even how poorly), there are no guarantees. Just like you and me, God gave our children free will, and ultimately it is their personal decision to make our faith their own.

It's been a couple of years now since our son declared himself an agnostic. We'd known that something was amiss - he'd stopped taking communion and spent a fair bit of his time during church services fooling around on his cell phone. I think my husband and I both hoped he was just going through a low phase, that he would wrestle things through - with God, with his youth leaders - and find his footing again. I don't think either of us challenged him. Our son is a thinker and can talk circles around us. Of course, if we'd trusted the Holy Spirit to give us the words...

Sigh.

Today our son identifies as an apathetic agnostic. If you don't know what this means, it's the view that there is no proof of either God's existence or non-existence and if there is a God, it doesn't matter much, since he seems unconcerned with the universe or its inhabitants.

You may be wondering how this ties in with this month's theme of obstacles and how God opened an opportunity through one. If we look at the dictionary definition of an obstacle, it is "a thing that blocks one's way or prevents or hinders progress." But I am going to use the thesaurus approach and talk about how my son's loss of faith was a hardship that God used to deepen my prayer life and to minister to others facing various life difficulties.

You see, I used to have the idea that although my family wasn't perfect, we were doing pretty well. Both of my kids were believers. We went to church together, they went to youth group and on retreats, we enjoyed engaging in theological discussions, etc. I couldn't imagine that anything could change that. I don't like to think I was prideful, but my obvious naivete suggests that I must have been. We all know the saying, "Pride goes before a fall." Not that it's all my fault, by any means. We all make our own choices.


When my son's faith derailed, it pressed me to pray like I'd never prayed before - with tears. It prompted me to begin an online prayer group that now has eighteen committed members. We pray for 3 members (and their families) each day, Monday to Saturday. We've seen some prayers answered and on others we're still waiting for God to move. We know God is working behind the scenes; we know His plans are good and that He's the giver of all good gifts. We do not walk alone. His timing is perfect as are His ways and we put our trust in Him, even when things look bleak. Especially then. We do not give up on our son or on other loved ones; we don't give up on God.

When people compliment my written prayers, I thank them then say I consider our prayer group a ministry. I do. God took hardship and turned it into a ministry of prayer.

"At night we may cry, but when morning comes we will celebrate." Psalm 30:5b, CEV

I'm looking forward to morning!
_________________
Susan Barclay maintains a website at www.susan-barclay.blogspot.com. She is also the new writing groups coordinator for Inscribe.

Metaphorically Speaking... Marnie Pohlmann

I was visiting my son and his family this past week while my husband took a course toward his Master's in Leadership degree. I have taken some classes at an undergraduate level, but this time I needed grandbaby hugs more than education. On this visit though, I have received both hugs and knowledge.

We don't see our grandchildren very often as we live in northern British Columbia and their family lives in Saskatchewan. Yet the youngest, my Sweet-Pea grand-girl, did not play strange with us and willingly snuggled in to read books between running to get into mischief or demanding with a combination of sounds and sign language what she wanted. My most favourite (and only) grandson, no longer a baby but a wonderful little boy, was quick to ask me to play Lego or go on imaginary superhero adventures. He often said, "me love you" and my heart would melt.

I was able to watch the grands by myself a few times during the week, and I soon remembered how exhausting parenting is! Two active young ones demanding attention had me going upstairs and down, inside and out, to play or to get snacks or to wash up dirty hands or bum. Somehow it was easier to balance firm discipline with loving grace while caring for my grands than it ever was with my own kids. Perhaps that was because I saw the generational potential of their unique personalities rather than suffer the angst of not knowing how to parent. Or because I was not also working, doing laundry and cleaning house in sleep-deprived exhaustion so I could enjoy a more relaxed time. (But what made me think I would have time to write and publish this post while visiting grandchildren!)

It has been said, "writing is like giving birth." Perhaps writer Flannery O'Connor described writing more accurately saying, "Writing is like giving birth to a piano sideways. Anyone who perseveres is either talented or nuts." (So, the question begs to be asked, am I talented or am I nuts? Or is it a combination of both that keeps me writing? And is it this question that keeps you reading to find the answer?) I digress...

Birth does not end the process of childbearing. That event is only the beginning. Parenting the baby takes a lifetime. No matter how old a child is, they will always be Mom and Dad's baby.

If writing is like birth, then parenting must be the editing process. Encouraging the lovely and being disciplined enough to correct the unlovely, such as improper verbiage or defiant grammar and punctuation. Editing can be a challenge and is exhausting yet is necessary for a child to be ready to be sent out into the world.

I have used the metaphor of parenting before in a post to describe how writing and faith are complete but never finished. I often use metaphors in my writing. I often see metaphors in my faith walk, and they help me make sense of life. It is how I process, and how I communicate.

This week as a visiting grandparent I have been given a new view. What is the grandparent role in writing? Or in faith?

We know the caricature of grandparents who spoil their children and then give them back to the parents to handle. "If mom says no, ask Gramma." The reality is, though, that most grandparents love their grands enough not to spoil them. They will be a little more lenient maybe, but loving grandparents still insist on "please" and "thank you" or "three more bites of broccoli before you get dessert." Grandparents who spend any amount of time with their grandchildren will do more parenting than spoiling. The caricature is not a true picture even though it is built on a portion of truth.

We also know writing, or any artistic representation, cannot take the place of living what is presented. Writers use metaphor as a tool to help readers see what they already know in order to lead them to another thought. 

I can see that grandparenting is not a good metaphor for writing. Like parenting, we never truly move on from being a writer. Perhaps we choose to play more than be disciplined but there are no grandparent writers, only writers.

And we know God has no grandchildren. Each person who recognizes God's sovereignty becomes His own child. He is Father, not Grandfather. Even His wisdom cannot be compared to a grandfather because He is so much wiser. God is simply much more than we can capture in a metaphor. Still, we try.

All metaphors, taken far enough, will fall apart. At most, they are micro-glimpses of just a small part of truth. Grandparenting for a couple days can suggest parenting but does not compare to parenting day in and day out. Grandparenting is perhaps only like writing in that we can choose when to play and when to practice discipline. And while God does love us like parents love their kids, parental love and even grandparent love still do not adequately capture the perfect balance of mercy and judgment that God provides.

This week I have learned that perhaps the best metaphor for writing is a faith walk, and the best metaphor for my faith walk is writing. Both contain elements of fun and discipline. Both have times when they are easy and when they are difficult. And neither is anything like grandparenting. Or are they? 

How would you expand on the statements "writing is like grandparenting" and "faith is like grandparenting?" Or would you just agree that writers must be a little nuts?

Marnie Pohlmann is a daughter of God, a gramma who loves her two beautiful grands, and a writer of metaphors and more. Phosphorescent, adventures in absorbing and reflecting God's light.

Trusting God as a Parent of Children with Special Needs - Ruth L. Snyder

Whether you are a mother at heart and/or a mother of children, Happy Mother's Day! 

When my husband and I decided to adopt, we didn't know how many questions we would have to answer. Questions about our growing up years, questions about our marriage, questions about what kind of child we were looking to adopt. One question we were asked is "What special needs are you willing to accept in a child?" We knew we were ill-equipped to answer this question. However, as we thought and prayed about it, we agreed that with God's help we should be willing to accept any special needs. This was the first major nudge out of our comfort zone.

One advantage adoptive parents have is knowing up front what some of the special needs of a child are, and having time to prepare. When we were matched with our twin boys, we were told they were born prematurely, they had developmental delays, they both had glasses, and one of them had a severe hearing loss. We were able to gather some information, meet with some of the specialists, and discuss education options with our local school, before the twins were placed with us.

However, adoptive parents only have access to as much information as the birth parents are willing to share. We have been asked several times whether our children were exposed to alcohol or drugs in utero. This information is required for a diagnosis of fetal alcohol spectrum disorder. We will probably never know the answer to that question. Sometimes, without a diagnosis, funding and services are not available.

When we adopted, there were a lot of things we didn't know:

We didn't know the special joys associated with parenting a child with special needs. It's difficult to put into words how rewarding it is to parent these children. Some people look at all the work involved and ask how we can do it. We look at the rewards and ask, "How can we not do it?" Seeing the progress of our children, watching them interact with others, and seeing how they teach others empathy is amazing. They have taught us how to love and how to trust God in ways we may never have learned any other way. Although adopting and parenting special needs children has been (and continues to be) the most challenging thing we've ever done, we would do it all over again.

We didn't know what RAD (Reactive Attachment Disorder) is like, or how to parent someone with RAD. It may have been easier if we had seen this video.

 

We didn't know how difficult it would be to advocate for inclusive education for our children. My children made me into the strong advocate I am today. I naively believed that all people do their best to meet the needs of ALL children. Unfortunately this is not true. However, in the process of advocating, I have met wonderful people who go over and beyond the call of duty in meeting the needs of children and families. I gladly share the resources I have discovered with other families. In fact, one of the reasons I served as a school board trustee with Northern Lights Public Schools was so that I could help other families. That experience gave me insight into the education system, how it works, and how to be an advocate on the political level.

Just like parenting doesn't end when children become adults, advocacy doesn't end at age eighteen either. This past year we have had the opportunity to connect with Inclusion Alberta and learn more about the benefits of inclusion. We have been armed with information. For instance, did you know that research has shown that when children with special needs (even severe cognitive disabilities) are educated in an inclusive environment, 80% of them find a job? However, when children with special needs are segregated into specialized programs, only 20% find a job after high school. Research also dispels the myth that "regular" students suffer when special needs students are included in general classrooms. In fact, all students benefit both academically and socially. 

Each day is a new adventure with our children. Some days bring laughter. Other days bring tears and prayer for wisdom. Through it all, God is teaching us all many important lessons.

What about you? What is God asking you to do? Sometimes obeying feels like jumping off a cliff. However, God is always there and when we are willing to move out of our comfort zone in obedience to God, the results are amazing.

"So do not fear, for I am with you;

    do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you and help you;

    I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." (Isaiah 41:10 NIV)

Ruth L. Snyder lives with her husband, Kendall, and their five children in northeastern Alberta. She currently edits a newsletter for foster, adoptive, and kinship families in northeastern Alberta. Ruth enjoys writing, publishing, and marketing. She offers coaching for other writers and helps other writers publish their material. Ruth also serves as the President of InScribe Christian Writers' Fellowship.

Being Grateful for Where I am - Ruth L. Snyder

I Thessalonians 5:16-18 says: "Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." (NIV)

This month we are asked to share an experience in our writing life when we found that to give thanks in everything was especially difficult.

Last year I had many wonderful opportunities in my writing life. I had several novelettes and a devotional book published and was able to grow my network of writing friends, learn new skills, and try new challenges. Through this process, I received an invitation from an editor to submit a novel I was working on. She told me she really liked what she saw in the first twenty thousand words and she would offer me a contract once I submitted the whole manuscript to her. I was ecstatic about this opportunity and worked hard. However, when I was at sixty thousand words, I knew I needed to put the project on the shelf, at least for the time being, so that I could spend more time with my children.

I found this very difficult, because I was being asked to put aside something I enjoyed doing and knew I could do well. Every time someone asked me how my writing was going, I felt those pangs of embarrassment, defeat, and even anger. Why did God give me the ability and opportunity to write this novel, only to yank it away from me?

Often I find myself focusing on my problems instead of seeing the big picture. If I allow myself to continue doing this, my problems seem to grow and multiply. One thing that has helped me immensely is choosing gratitude. Giving thanks - writing or speaking what I am grateful for - takes the focus off the problem and restores my perspective. So, in my writing life, I am choosing to be thankful for the writing projects I AM able to pursue while my children are still young and at home. I may not be able to write a novel right now, but I can write blog posts and devotionals incorporating lessons God is teaching me through my children. They will sprout up and fly off soon enough. In the meantime, I can use my time to enjoy making memories with them and also share what I'm learning on the journey. This focus keeps me encouraged and also helps other parents who may be struggling.

As I focus on gratefulness, I'm reminded that:

• God is faithful
• God is loving
• God is all-powerful
• God created me and knows me better than I know myself
• God granted me the ability to write

If I truly want to glorify God with my writing, then I need to trust Him to open and close the doors of opportunity.

How have you found gratitude helps you?

How are you? - Ruth L. Snyder

"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart." -William Wordsworth

It started at the breakfast table. After we read about what qualities God looks for in a person and how we should look beyond people's actions and appearances.

"You're dumb. I don't like you."

"I don't like you either."

"Mom, Levi's bugging me."

I sighed. My husband was already at work. "Are you guys being kind to one another?"

They gave me crooked grins and shook their heads. It was quiet for a few milliseconds before they were at each other,  again.

I took a deep breath and prayed for wisdom. The day before Steve Green's Hide Em in Your Heart had calmed them all. I put on the music. Today it didn't seem to make a difference for them, but it calmed me. I repeated expectations and separated two of the boys.

Time to write in agendas. I opened one up and read:

"Levi wore boots to school. Please make sure he wears shoes."

A thought flitted through my head. "I'd like to see her get five kids ready for school in the morning." I quell the urge to react.

"Sorry for the boots. By the time I realized he was wearing them it was too late to get him to change before the bus came."

"Mom, can I have an egg?"

Dorothy had already eaten cereal. She must have been hungry this morning, because usually she didn't want to eat more than a few mouthfuls.

"Sure." I fried an egg, then continued on to the next journal.

"Luke, did you make your lunch?" No answer. I found him in his room, playing. "Is your lunch in your backpack?"

He shook his head.

"Go get it done and then you can come play."

"My stomach doesn't feel good." It was Dorothy. The egg sat in her bowl, untouched.

"Go get dressed and then see how you feel."

Journal writing completed. Two lunches out of four made.

"What do you want for lunch today, Levi? There's some pizza in the fridge."

He nodded, then smiled when I handed him a slice.

I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until the kids needed to go to the bus. Dorothy was still upstairs. I found her with her clothes heaped in front of her, still in her pyjamas.

"Need some help?"

She nodded. We worked together.

"Okay, go brush your hair and then we'll get your hearing aids in."

We both walked down the stairs. She went to brush her hair. I grabbed her hearing aids and placed them on the table. Levi's hearing aids were still sitting there. I found him heading out to see our dog, Olaf. I handed him the hearing aids and went to check on Dorothy. Across the house I heard Levi's hearing aids squealing. I finished with Dorothy, then went back to Levi. His hearing aids sat in the windowsill with both earmolds separated from the hearing aids.

"I don't want to wear my hearing aids today."

"Is there a problem with them?"

"I just don't want to wear them."

Jayson came up behind me. "I have the leash for Olaf."

"Okay, but I need to check on Dorothy first."

He followed me like a puppy. I didn't want him to follow me, but he wasn't doing anything wrong. I bit my tongue.

Dorothy had her hair brushed. We worked together on her lunch. Time to go.

Jayson and I went outside. Olaf wagged his tail and bounced around, happy to see us. It took me a couple minutes to get him to settle enough to get the leash on and unhook his chain. We walked down the driveway, stopping a few times for me to talk to Olaf and settle him. He seemed more energetic than normal.

We finally made it down the driveway. Luke had rubber boots on.

"What happened to your shoes?"

"I couldn't find them."

Great. I can already see the note I'm going to receive in the agenda.

Then, Levi came into view. He had boots on too - his older sister's boots. She's not around this morning, but I can imagine what she'd be saying if she were. Argh!

"Levi, you can't wear those boots. They're Grace's. Let's go change."

Levi, Olaf and I returned to the house. Poor Olaf didn't understand why he was being put back on his chain. He yipped.

I took Levi back into the house where we replaced the boots and he put on his shoes. I also found Luke's shoes. We walked back down the driveway, arriving just in time for Levi to get on the bus with his siblings. I placed a smile on my face and waved as it left.

Whew!

About twenty minutes later my husband found me at my desk.

"How are you?"

"This morning was challenging, but I'm okay." If he only knew, I thought.

(Maybe I'll get him to read this sometime.)

Love Keeps Going To The End by Ruth L. Snyder

 I am very familiar with the "love chapter" - I Corinthians 13. I've heard sermons about it, I've read it, and I've also memorized it. Do I live by it?

Most people see me as a very patient person. I have a confession to make. Sometimes I'm VERY impatient, especially with my children. It's easy to "love" my children when they are obedient. Who doesn't appreciate a child who is helpful, does what you say, and tells you he or she loves you? Sometimes my children are like that, but often they are not. What happens when I've told my child to pick up her toys and she looks at me and stomps her foot? What about a son who chooses to eat cookies half an hour before supper, even though I told him to wait? How do I deal with a child who uses urine and feces to "get even" with me?

1 Corinthians 13 tells me that love NEVER fails. Love keeps going to the end. Obviously, my human love DOES fail. I run out of steam. I get frustrated and angry. I feel upset. I don't feel like hugging my child and telling him I love him. I don't feel like being consistent. I don't feel like staying calm.

That's where God's love steps in - true love that never ends. Love is a choice, not a feeling. I may feel upset that my daughter is refusing to clean up, but I can firmly remind her what's expected and count down to encourage her to be obedient. I may feel frustrated that my son ate the cookies, but I can repeat what I expect and give him a logical consequence - no dessert. I may feel angry that my son has soiled himself, the second time today, but I can choose to quietly tell him to have a bath and clean his clothes. Along with being consistent and responding appropriately, I can choose to tell my child I love him or her.

I want my children to grow up knowing that I love them. I want them to know that no matter what they do, or what they say, I will always love them. God does not base His love for us on our obedience, so neither should I. There may be tears. I may have to give myself a time-out. I will definitely have to choose to forgive. But in the end, with God's help, I will choose to love my children to the end.

What about you? Which one of the characteristics of love do you struggle with and how are you allowing God to change you?

Check out more of Ruth's writing at http://ruthlsnyder.com

Sunday Morning Blues - Ruth L. Snyder

The phone's insistent ring interrupted my quiet Sunday morning. "Good morning. Is Kendall there? My furnace is beeping and it's only 15 degrees in my house." It was my mother-in-law.

I glanced at the thermometer. It was -31 Celsius outside. I passed the phone to my husband and then mentally reviewed my "to do" list:

• Set the table for breakfast
• Wake up our five children
• Make cake for church coffee fellowship
• Get dressed for church
• Make sure all our children were dressed for church
• Have breakfast
• Clean up from breakfast
• Drive to church
• Shovel the snow off the walk at church
• Make coffee, tea, and juice

Kendall layered up and went outside. I thought he had left to fix the furnace until he came back in the house, stomping the snow off his boots. "The alternator isn't working in the van. I'll have to drive it over to fix Mom's furnace. The other van has tools on the seats. You'll have to move them so the kids have a place to sit."

I nodded, but inside I was grumbling. One more thing to add to my list. The morning rush continued. No more complications. Everyone was dressed, we had eaten, and we were getting coats on. Our fifteen-year-old daughter had helped by moving most of the tools. Just as I was going out the door, Kendall came in. "I remembered that I had the key to the church. I'll trade vans with you. The furnace still isn't working, so I'm going back to finish the job."

We arrived at church. Several centimetres of fresh, fluffy snow blanketed the sidewalk. I unlocked the church, plugged in the coffee maker, and recruited a couple of my children to help shovel snow. By now my head was pounding. I was scheduled to have an abscessed tooth removed in a couple days, but in the meantime it was painful. Thankfully the snow was loose and easy to shovel.

Back inside, most of the children found books to read and I returned to the kitchen to make coffee and set out the supplies for our weekly fellowship time after church. The early coffee crew soon began to drift in. Then it was time for church to start.

My next task was to figure out how best to configure the seating arrangement to discourage fighting and fidgeting. I sat between my youngest son and one of my twins and held our four-year-old daughter on my lap. The twin that didn't get to sit beside me was upset and started acting up. The pre-service singing time became a balancing act of finding the appropriate hymn and sorting out grievances before they were resolved physically. I tried to focus on the words.

After the opening hymns and announcements our pastor called the children up to the front of the church. I opened my wallet and distributed offering money. Then I sighed in relief as all the children made their way to Sunday School. My mind was still going at warp speed when I joined the congregation singing the offertory. We sing the words every Sunday, but today they hit home in a new way.

"Father God, we today bring our gifts to the altar. All our prayers, work, and play, all our hope for tomorrow. All of our failures and our success in this day we're living. All we are, and hope to be, in Christ's sacrifice giving."

"Lord, forgive me for my grouchy attitude. Thank you for your many blessings in my life. Still my heart and my thoughts and help me to hear from You today. I bring You the gift of myself - all my failures and my successes. Amen"

At times we may feel like life is conspiring against us. I often remind my children that we cannot change what happens to us, but we can change our attitude. Obviously I need that reminder too. I'm thankful that God is patient with me and catches my attention. Hopefully I'll be able to avoid the Sunday blues in 2013 - not necessarily because circumstances are different, but because I choose a positive attitude.

www.trusteesnyder.blogspot.com
(Education information)
www.ruthlsnyder.com
(Ruth's writing and family life) 
www.earlyyearssuccess.com
(Information for caregivers of children ages 0-5)
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Sufficient Grace by Ruth L. Snyder

He giveth more grace as our burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength as our labors increase;
To added afflictions He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials He multiplies peace.

When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father’s full giving is only begun.

Fear not that thy need shall exceed His provision,
Our God ever yearns His resources to share;
Lean hard on the arm everlasting, availing;
The Father both thee and thy load will upbear.

His love has no limits, His grace has no measure,
His power no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again.

-Annie J. Flint (Public Domain)

     I was driving one of my sons to Edmonton for some medical tests. The dark pre-dawn sky mirrored my emotions. My son had two long days of testing ahead of him. I wondered if he would cooperate and do his best. Behaviour issues and inconsistent achievement at school had convinced me to look for help for him. Would the people administering the tests be understanding and helpful? Or would my son and I be judged?

Ruth L. Snyder

     The soothing words of Annie Flint’s hymn streamed out of the stereo and poured over my troubled spirit. The sun began its ascent to proclaim the beginning of a glorious new day. It was as if God Himself wrapped me in His loving arms and whispered, “Peace. Be Still.” I reveled in His presence and understood that no matter what happened, He would be with me.

     There are times in life when we have to cling to the truth of God’s Word. All around us we see darkness. It feels like light doesn’t even exist. But God is there. The storms of life will come and go. But Jesus is the same – yesterday, today and forever. When we can’t go on, He will carry us. His grace is sufficient - always. (2 Cor. 12:9)

Check out Ruth’s education blog at http://www.trusteesnyder.blogspot.com/

We've Only Just Begun -- Janet Sketchley

My best mornings begin with a special time alone with God. These days it’s once the kids are in school. When they were small, desperation had me setting my alarm early enough to fortify my spirit before getting into the breakfast chaos.

In the shelter of my bed (sitting up to keep awake) I’d enjoy a quiet time of prayer and Scripture. It was like a spiritual snuggle with my Divine Parent before I faced my own parenting role.

The Bible has so many images of the parental aspects of God’s heart. One particular morning, I was musing on the description of Him as “Father to the fatherless” (Psalm 68:5)

I’d been raised by wonderful parents, who were still an integral part of my wellbeing. But I was in my mid-thirties, with a husband and children of my own. I had grown up.

Still, part of me often felt like an orphaned child, cowering alone. I ached for God to be that Father – and Mother – to me now.

I poured out my fears and loneliness to Him in prayer, longing to rest in His love – the same way I had rested in my parents’ love as a child. Abba… Papa… help me to stay in the shelter of Your care. Grow me under Your watchful eye.

After a while, I felt in my heart that it was time to get up. Lord, I sense our time together is over now….

I meant it as clarification – am I really supposed to get up? I’d neither read His Word nor listened for His leading. I’d done all the talking – again.

A gentle reassurance interrupted me: Oh, no… we’ve just begun.

Could I really have heard His message, inaudible but understood? It resonated in my soul, a wonderful, warm, loving promise.

What followed was the mental equivalent of that little scoot that a parent gives a toddler to send her out to play after a hug. With a smile for the future, I scooted.

© Janet Sketchley, 2011

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For devotionals, reviews and conversation, stop by Janet Sketchley's blog, God with Us: Finding Joy.

Confessions of a Proverbs 31 Dropout - Glynis Belec

I often used to wonder why God did not include an instruction booklet when he blessed us with children. People would often say things like, "But God did...the Bible is the only instruction book that you will ever need..." or "The Word of God is sufficient for thee, Glynis..." or "follow your heart and listen for that still, small Voice..." Many other pearls of wisdom were tossed my way. And I heeded them and acknowledged them and smiled my nice, Christian smile and went on my merry way.

But in my heart I wasn’t buying it. What I really wanted was a step-by-step idiot’s guide to parenting. I wanted to do it right. I wanted to see immediate fruits and receive affirmation from the world that I rocked as a mother. So I plodded along over the years dragging my junior offspring along for the ride.

Perhaps if I tried to become the Proverbs 31 picture of perfection, then I would become the perfect momma bear with the perfect cubs. So I tried. After all, those virtuous woman instructions were pretty well spelled out in the Bible. I tried not to eat the bread of idleness [in hopes that my children learn by example and then would rise up and call me blessed!] I home schooled my children. I worked willingly with my hands and even sometimes rose up while it was yet night. But many times I was tired and grumpy and grumbled and groaned about how busy I was. I wanted results. I wanted them the easy way and I wanted them now. I pestered God to get cracking but looking back now, I realize I forgot one thing. Life is all about His will, His timing and His plan – not mine.

But, as always, God didn’t disappoint me. One day, he gave me a wake-up call. It was a small sample of fruit but it was a mighty eye-opener for this Proverbs 31 dropout.
We were browsing in one of our favourite hotspots at the time – the local thrift store. I loved the good deals on books and we would sometimes meander on over to the clothing rack in search of bargains. This one particular day I had my nose stuck between the covers of a 50-cent classic and I felt a tap on my shoulder. Trevor, my almost teen junior offspring, had come across a pair of stylish brand named jeans. They fit nicely into his budget and the size was right. As he held up the jeans for me to see, he somehow stuck his hand into one of the pockets and to his surprise and my shock, pulled out a crisp $5 bill. We smiled at each other and he immediately said, “Who do I give it to?”

I tucked the jeans under my arm and Trevor clutched his lucky find. We headed to the front counter and Trevor told the lady who served us about the money in the pocket. She commented on his honesty and thanked him immensely. (She also knocked a dollar of the price of the jeans!)
On our drive home I asked Trevor if, for one moment, he had thought about keeping the money. “Uh-uh…no way. That’s not right.”

Then it occurred to me. I was concerning myself wondering if values were being instilled or if a lesson on morality ever sank in. But judging by what I witnessed that day, I knew the foundation was there. And when I think back over the years there have been many, many different fruits evidenced in the lives of my children. In my vain attempt at ‘doing everything right’ I was missing them. I soon discovered that all this fruit growing was not my doing. I was merely a vessel being used by God. My job was not to become super mom. It was to let go and let God take over.

I learned some important lessons that day at the thrift store. Fruits of our labours are not always immediate so I had better clothe myself in patience. Affirmation from the world is not something I should seek so I had better realize that my motivation should purely be a God thing and not my thing. And I also learned that the only way to ‘rock’ as a mother is to look to the Rock and to offer up my children to the throne of God [and leave them there.]

So I’ve been making an effort. I’ve fumbled along and I’ve tried to listen to that still small Voice. There were times over the years when my spiritual deafness was evident. There were times when I went back to the throne and tried to take my children back, but I soon realized the futility of that notion.

My children are grown now and starting families of their own. I presented Trevor with a nice, crisp $5 bill and a new pair of stylish brand named jeans at his wedding two years ago, but little did he know that on that special day I was publicly applauding more than his honesty. I was inwardly thanking him for helping me realize that God is in control and that elusive parental instruction booklet is really a matter of the heart.



"Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised." Proverbs 31:30