Playing with a friend in Uganda
A couple of weeks ago my trusty Subaru was packed with a bunch of sweaty kids (mine), headed home from our organization’s picnic. The mood was light, the windows down. We played two of my admittedly weird games:
The first was pretty hysterical, peppered with some interjections about
Pray that God will help them engage students in practical, exciting ways that help students become lifelong learners about His world in each subject.
Well. I’d been waiting for a good illustration for this post. I didn’t really want it to come when I was sleeping (probably snoring?) last week at precisely 12:35 AM. That is when my husband, arriving home late, confirmed I was good to go on that meeting tomorrow at 8 AM, the one an hour away.
Yes. (I was mumbling. If I wake up too much, I know I won’t get back to sleep.) I have to drop off all the kids, and then..
Wait. Did you say 8? Wasn’t it 8:30?
Last week was the week where you sign enough paperwork that you think, Maybe I just bought a house or something. But actually, you’ve just registered your kids for school. I lost track of how many boxes of pencils and packages of notebook paper I purchased. And one of my kids is starting high school, which may mean that I am old?
Either way, the principal introduced himself as I walked out with my freshman (man, just typing it makes it sound real). And here is what I liked: Our new principal, in his last district, was also an elder in his church. So was our new superintendent. These intelligent, gifted men could presumably be doing a lot of things with their giftedness. But as I chatted with the principal, I thought, I’m really glad you’re doing this particular job. It matters to me and my kids and their discipleship. People like you preserve our schools so they don’t become “unreached”.
I was a freshman in college leaving for a road trip. The call must have been from my mom. I don’t remember. All I know is that my youth group’s intern from the summer before–coincidentally engaged to another intern–had been in a fatal car accident.
She’d been driving to try on her wedding dress.
The other night after small group, I experienced the cutest thing all week: The daughter of one of our members—who, when she wears pigtails, reminds me of a blonde, blue-eyed version of Boo from Monsters Inc. Our host home had The Most Patient Cat in the World, who allowed Boo to exclaim in her sweet little voice over all of his main body parts, touching as she went: “TAIL!” “EYES!” “FACE!” about 546 times. We watched said cat for an entire half hour.
She was disarming, delightful, and chock-full of sheer happiness. She was adorably undignified, openly affectionate.
I’ve been thinking about how God wants us to come to him like Boo—no. Actually, requires we come somehow like her.
Author’s note: This is another one of those posts (like most of mine?) that I write from the thick of it. As in, not from mastery. As in, I was dealing with this last night. Turns out I not only get the “shoulds” with myself; I get them with other people. As in my kids.
My husband has probably said it more than ten times: “When you’re tired, you get the shoulds.”
I should call her. I need to write that note. I think we need to make a plan for disciplining [insert child]. I should be more diligent about…
Okay, one of my least favorite job descriptions of motherhood: Media Nazi. ‘M I the only one who feels like I’m constantly saying “nope”?
Because see, I want more than “Mom said no. Again” for my kids’ worldview. When they get to college, I’m certainly not going to be harping over their shoulders. (At least I really hope not.) Plus, they’re about 100% more likely to have buy-in if they’re the ones making the [hopefully right] decision.
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
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