As an author and voracious devourer of fiction, I consistently get a kick out of the comedy Stranger than Fiction (2006), with Will Farrell and Emma Thompson.
Will Farrell’s character, IRS agent Harold Crick, begins to hear a narrator’s voice over his life–a narrator who has power to determine his circumstances. And who indicates he’s going to die.
Harold seeks a literature professor’s advice (Dustin Hoffman), who suggests he start to find his author by determining whether he’s in a comedy or a tragedy.read more
Months ago, I stumbled upon what I thought was an epiphany: silicone scar strips…which promised, with 4.5 stars on Amazon, to fade stretch marks, people.
My heart lifted. My first child ballooned my belly like a watermelon, complete with stripes. When another mother asked to glimpse my stretch marks after I mentioned their severity, she gasped aloud with some equivalent of Good golly. read more
I imagine there’s some parent out there like me right now. Spring weather finally crooks a finger, beckoning our kids outside…but as the end of the school year looms, there’s unfinished schoolwork (or just today’s chores) you’re not actually sure your child will accomplish. Like, ever. Tasks are colliding like an interstate pileup. How do you motivate a child without losing your ever-loving mind?
Well, I left my magic wand in my other computer. But in short, you’re searching for your unique child’s motivation DNA. As you consider how to motivate your child, here are a few thought’s I’m typing for my own sake.read more
This week, I’m working through the final interior design and whatnot on my own parenting book (due out this October: Permanent Markers: Spiritual Life Skills to Write on Your Kids’ Hearts. #shamelessplug). And there are moments in real-life parenting when I’m whispering to myself, “Maybe we should retitle this thing I’ve Got Nothin’.”
But those moments give me all the more reason to get excited about other parenting books genuinely trying to step in with practical ideas to help us connect and shape and love well. So I’m tickled pink to be offering two copies of Becky Harling’s How to Listen So Your Kids Will Talk (Bethany, 2021).
I don’t offer you books that freely (…there’ve been some I haven’t offered). I want to earn your trust when it comes to resources. And most other things. (Things you should not trust me on: Math. Athletic ability. How to care for straight hair. Potty training.)
But Becky’s got some gems tucked in How to Listen So Your Kids Will Talk. Please, read over my shoulder.
Becky’s husband Steve asks her adult children this question–and Becky mentions that by God’s kindness, “I was able to receive all that they shared.”
What I love about this: Throughout the book, Becky seems to indicate that listening to our kids, to anyone, requires humility. There is a profound grace in asking good questions, seeking to really be present with the person across from us, and shelving our agendas while we receive someone.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote wisely, reminding people like me of the danger of always having a helpful response:
The first service one owes to others in a community involves listening to them. Just as our love for God begins with listening to God’s Word, the beginning of love for others is learning to listen to them. God’s love for us is shown by the fact that God not only gives God’s Word, but also lends us God’s ear.
We do God’s work for our brothers and sisters when we learn to listen to them.
So often Christians, especially preachers, think that their only service is always to have to ‘offer’ something when they are together with other people.
They forget that listening can be a greater service…Christians who can no longer listen to one another will soon no longer be listening to God either.
Questions for self-care.
Becky peppers How to Listen So Your Kids Will Talk with something unexpected: Wisdom and questions for self-care. Why? “Parents who are tired and overcommitted are more likely to lose it with their kids.”
I find that my kids occasionally rotate in and out of my triage. And for better or for worse, that triage child determines not a small part of my life experience in that season.
But I’ve also been thinking about this: Those times of concern also increase my advocacy and attachment to that child. I have fierce feelings for my second son, for example, because of all we’ve slugged through with his ADHD.
These times have kneaded into me God’s advocacy and love as a Father, too.
“When are you most likely to talk to me?”
As a question-collector, I love this genius question Harling posed to kids. Listen to some of their answers:
“When you don’t have an angry face.”
“When [my little sister] is not around.”
“You zip your mouth and put down your phone.” (Oof. That one was a teenager.)
Now I want to go ask my kids!
“Be intentional about dates.”
I was relieved that this was something my husband and I (him even more than me) are already doing. We rotate through our kids (not on a schedule, per se), taking them for coffee or whatnot. (Much easier pre-COVID, but not un-doable now.)
This is one of those answers I anticipate in response to “When are you most likely to talk to me?”
“Fools show their annoyance at once.”
Totally have not considered applying this verse to parenting (Proverbs 12:16). In fact, Harling counsels parents who want their teens to talk to practice not looking shocked.
This has been 100% true for my teens. Sometimes I’ve totally managed this–but I’ve had to pay for the times I haven’t.
Becky elaborates, “If you want your kid to talk to you, the ‘evil eye’ has to go.”
Shot to the heart.
What if you have little-bitty kids right now? I loved this quote she requotes: “In a child’s first two years, the desire to experience joy in loving relationships is the most powerful force in life.” Referring to the location of the “joy center” behind the eyes, the quote continues, “In fact, some neurologists now say that the basic human need is to be the ‘sparkle in someone’s eyes.'”
Becky opens each chapter with other thoughtful nuggets from other authors, too–like this one I love.
We’re called to see the preciousness of our children even when they are covered in their own “mess.”
Dr. Karyn Purvis
Here the Gospel in there? Jesus coming to us in our mess?
Me, too.
Angry Parent = Angry Child
With my recurring anger issues, maybe I should get this one tattooed on my person somewhere. It’s an idea.
My 16-year-old was recently awarded his driver’s permit–okay, yikes–and with it, was pre-registered to vote. We don’t fall down the line politically, which I’m generally okay with. (You may remember we’re a lot different: see When Your Child is Different from What You Expected.)
As my kids grow older…so do their opinions. Sometimes I’m unprepared for the ways my boys and I don’t see eye-to-eye.
But I’m actually more concerned about statistics I’m reading: A shocking 22% of evangelicals believe civility is unproductive in political conversations. Twenty-five percent consider their candidate’s insulting personal remarks toward an opponent to be justifiable.
(Friends, how did we get here?)
It’s one thing to steer clear of Twitter or Facebook for a few months as your feed blows up with political polarization and vehement, loaded, or snarky political statements.
It’s another thing when the political polarization lands in your living room, or on that phone call with your dad.
It’s can be alienating to find your own mom, your own aunt, your own sister could so enthusiastically endorse a candidate representing so personally painful. Or when a child so casually sets aside a deal-breaking ethical issue.
Find a great audiobook. If you want, make the number of books absorbed a competition with someone else.
Memorize Scripture for a reward.
Download (um, and use) a free workout app, like Down Dog’s HIIT, Barre, or 7-minute workout apps–all free until May 1, 2020.
Take an online course for something you’ve always wanted to do: martial arts, guitar, drawing, architecture, cake decorating.
Practice the instrument you wish you were good at but aren’t yet.
Do at least one positive, productive thing toward social justice: Write a senator. Find out how to be more green. Create a meme. Research what organization doing great stuff in your area you could volunteer for after all this is over.
Hang tissue flowers or origami at different lengths of thread from your ceiling.
Anyone else feel like they’re constantly fighting the tide of tech in their homes?
No, I don’t want my kids to arrive at college like a bat out of you-know-where. I want them to know how to responsibly handle tech as a tool for growth and entertainment. But this also means my husband and I are constantly seeking to add to our wisdom about protecting them.
I keep taking “next steps” to make sure we’re managing technology…rather than the other way around.
Though my kids are no longer the age for popsicle sticks and chore charts, our screen time is still connected to chores and behavior. And it’s still monitored via an oven timer and permission.
I’ll be the first to tell you I do not feel like I have tech mastery in my home. That always feels about three steps out of my reach, and is unique to my kids and my own parenting struggles. So along with you–I’m taking that next step, y’know?
After reading through these, I wondered if a lot of you would think I’m a hover parent, or a lawnmower parent–and I guess that’s a risk I have to take. But maybe like yours, my family and some I know have already been hurt by tech that’s not on a decent leash.
I’ve decided to wager being #thatmom in order to empower you to protect the kids you love, and hand them a more promising, real-life future. (I’m actually nice in real life!)
I’d love your further thoughts and practical tips in the comments section!
Videos and pictures sent on Snapchat disappear after a certain period of time. Many teens and tweens have a false sense of security that anything posted will be gone in a short time. Therefore, teens on Snapchat become emboldened to post more risque pictures of themselves.
2. Phones in the basket when you get home.
Full disclosure: I’m still working on enforcing this great idea from a friend.
But having my kids stash phones in a decorative bowl of ours when they come home helps me with a handful of issues on the tech front.
It demonstrates that genuine presence with people in front of you are more important than virtual presence.
I avoid conversations with earbudded teens.
I steer clear of phones at the table, at bedtime, and away from accountability.
It keeps family time to…family.
Studies have shown that more than two hours of screen time for kids leads to emotional impairment (aggression, depression, less recognition of facial expression) and cognitive delays. These can’t be compensated for by physical exercise.
The recommended screen time by doctors for under-twos is nothing; for under-fives, it’s one hour.
3. Get a watchdog on your router.
I like using OpenDNS, a free service, on our router at home. This means that any device using our router is guarded; I choose the level of security.
4. Rule: Hand over your phone immediately when asked, or lose your phone.
I’m totally #thatmom performing random checks on my kids’ devices. Honestly? My kids’ safety and well-being is more important to me than their privacy. After a friend’s child met up with a predator after online gaming, I’m not taking chances.
I regularly check internet history and texts, in particular. If someone’s trying to delete something before they hand it over, the phone is mine. #PhoneNaziandProudofIt
5. Last kid in the class to get a phone wins.
I appreciated the above mantra of this Silicon-Valley-employee mom in this sobering New York Times article about the measures Silicon Valley parents are putting in place to guard their kids from what they know well to be the effects of too much screen time. I’m not convinced that my need to communicate with my child at all times supersedes the dangers they face with a phone in their pockets.
My husband and I decided to allow our freshman in high school to get his first phone this year. But we do want our son to be able to handle a phone wisely before college, and given the nature of our son, we also weren’t too afraid he’d be excluded socially (again, weighed with the threats of sexting, cyberbullying, and tech addiction). We initially wanted a flip phone that didn’t have internet access; unfortunately, in our area, it was actually much cheaper month-to-month (by at least $20) to get our son a smartphone. It’s an iPhone 4, which limits his app access.
Because of this, we’ve had the data on his phone turned off by the phone company. This means he can only access the internet through a router; he spends most of his time at school, the library, and home, which all have filtering devices. So we feel (slightly?) more confident he’s protected.
6. Turn off MMS.
In the article above from youth workers, I also gleaned the great piece of advice to turn off multimedia text capability on my son’s phone–which means he can receive words, but not images or videos. (He’s on a limited text plan that allows 500 texts a month; if he wants an add-on, he needs to pay for it.) Here are instructions for an iPhone and an Android.
I chose not to tell our son what I was doing (can you tell he doesn’t read his mom’s blog?); he probably thinks it’s part of having an older phone. He could figure out how to turn it off. But perhaps my mindset in all this is similar to preventing petty theft in Uganda: We’re constantly installing more stop-gap measures to make it that much harder to do bad, and easier to do good.
7. Look up the reviews and the lyrics.
Maybe this is a “duh” for some of you parenting vets–but I’m not just concerned about the quantity of screen time. I’m concerned about the quality. Sites like PluggedIn.com and CommonSenseMedia.org help me get smart about what my kids are taking in–because I certainly don’t have time for it all.
Check out this post, too, I wrote for WeAreThatFamily.com: Guest Post: Guiding Kids through Media Choices. You’ll find some ideas on teaching kids discernment when they want to buy that Billie Eilish song.
8. Be okay with being the only parents saying no.
As if in this post, my inner media Nazi isn’t being revealed to the worldwide web, now for something completely controversial: We’ve chosen to say no…to Fortnite. After looking up reviews, comprehending its ability to addictively consume my kids’ brains (kids playing it through the night and in class), and some of the online dangers, we’ve become #thoseparents.
Sure, maybe some of it is that minor amount of awareness I want my kids to have that we can be just fine without drinking the cultural Kool Aid. But I also think that even if everything is permissible, not everything builds my kids’ minds and hearts (1 Corinthians 10:23).
9. Stay in the know about cyberbulling, cyberporn, and video gaming.
Back in the day, when I was in high school, I remember one Christian radio personality saying, “Take the TV out of your child’s bedroom, and replace it with a computer!” Anyone else determine how this could be really bad advice now?
In general, we don’t allow screens in bedrooms. But even more, our general guideline is that if you’re on a screen, someone should be able to immediately walk in a room and see what’s on it. Sometimes that even means switching chairs. This prevents our kids from not only being victims, but also bullies.
11. Have a tech curfew in your house.
Blue light interferes with sleep waves–and our kids need help creating no-tech zones in their lives. Maybe this means no video games on weekdays for your house, or just that your kids are off devices well before bedtime.
According to The Seattle Times, our teenagers may need our help powering down. Self-control is not fully developed in teen brains, so it can be hard for teenagers to voluntarily turn off a video game or close out of Instagram, the article said. One expert said giving teenagers smartphones without any restrictions is like offering them an unlimited supply of Häagen Dazs ice cream and telling them not to eat too much.
12. If you’re on social media, your parent is (literally) your “friend.” Consider a social media contract.
If kids are on social media, make sure you have all passwords for their accounts, keeping an eye on their activity.
We’ve decided that when gaming, our kids can’t communicate through text or audio. My kids have real-life friends we can vet and enjoy, so I don’t feel the need for online relationships with “kids” around the world.
Your turn.
Please, help us out!
What do you do to manage tech wisely in your home?
My thirteen-year-old and I sat across a sticky table from each other at the local donut shop. If I remember right, he had this maple-frosted thing that was the size of a small planet, totally at my permission (unusual for my Sugar Nazi tendencies). His tears had dried by now, leaving a whisper of salt on his cheeks.
“I just feel like I have more setbacks than wins,” he shrugged, so clearly in pain.
He wasn’t entirely wrong.
That was the day that, out of the four saxophonists who auditioned for advanced band, three made it in.
And it stunk to be #4.
Add to that the fact that he was my kid with a couple of learning disorders. He’s come so far, people. But that means that out of four kids, three of my kids find school relatively easy. One doesn’t. (Sensing a pattern here?)
And junior highers aren’t particularly merciful when your ADHD lapses into the territory of Wow. You’re amazingly annoying.
All that to say, my son was becoming good friends with striking out. Watching him across the table from me, I glimpsed that sense of powerlessness.
I personally have a lot of experience with failure. My heart wanted to scoop him up like when he was little, cuddle him up, and let him laugh out loud at Clifford the Big Red Dog. (But maybe that would contribute to a teenager’s sense of failure. Y’know.)
But we want our kids to “feel and deal”…not slap a bandaid on it. That is to say, not just escape, or spiritualize away, or minimize, or ignore.
After a death, Jews “sit shiva” for seven days. They sit around and are sad for the proper season. Obviously a failure doesn’t warrant a week of moping. But be okay, for just a little, appropriate while, to just be with your kids in their emotion.
2. Separate their ability to perform from who they are.
This is a priceless time to tell our kids the truth about where their value lies. It’s where we reiterate that we accept them 100%, no matter whether they’re smart, pretty, talented, athletic, mannerly, good, well-liked–or absolutely none of those.
Get this. If we gloss over our kids’ failure, rather than just sitting in it with them, we’re still sending the message, “You’re still smart/pretty/etc./etc. And that’s why I love you.”
Translation: As long as you are those things, you’ve got a friend in me. And I’m willing to look the other way as long as you are primarily those things.
That, friends, is not the message we’re going for.
(Though it may be hard. Our kids’ failure can so often feel like…our own. Can we separate our kids failure from who we are?)
My love, and your value in the eyes of God (the only eyes who truly matter!) are unconditional.
So if they’re not completely true, nix phrases like these:
It’s not that bad. You’ll still make it.
Eh, no big deal. It’s just band.
They’re just jealous. You’re better than all of them anyway.
3. Help them gain perspective on this failure.
That said, failing an advanced band audition does not mean one’s primary life path is closed.
I asked my son if he remembered the water slide we screamed down last summer.
Where had the engineer designed all the water to go? (The pool at the bottom.) Did it all end up there? (Of course.) We talked about the verse from Proverbs: The king’s heart is a stream of water in the hand of the Lord; he turns it wherever he will (21:1). If there had been a hole in the waterslide, the water would have drained out to the wrong place. God shuts doors–boarding the slide up, so to speak–so the water of our life goes to all the right places.
So we dreamed a little bit. What could my son be good at instead? What other possibilities might be open because this door closed?
4. Get grateful.
My son needed a little help from a more developed frontal lobe, i.e. mine. When I was a kid, I remember allowing one bad event to tank my entire day. I think of it now as the snowball effect: Everything just gathers mass and speed, rolling downhill. Forget all that God was working that I could be thankful for. It was all curtains from here, right?
So my son and I talked about what was going right; things he hadn’t failed in. We talked about great things that, by the grace of God, my son has going for him. He’s got great health, a family who’s crazy about him, a warm home, a love for cooking great food, and killer compassion.
5. Get honest.
This can get tricky. Obviously, we don’t want to go with a shrug and, “Well, if you would have practiced more…”
But part of the gift of failure (yes, I called it that) is our human ability to change. I asked, “Is there something you wish you would have done differently?” Or you could say, “Is there something you wish you could go back and change?”
Yet even then, I want to be careful that I don’t raise kids who are victims; who can always find the reason in someone else for their failures.
It’s that classic adage of moms around the world: You can’t change their action; you can only change your reaction.
Kids who expect that the world should rightfully hand them perfection are in for a rude awakening. I will not be a snowplow parent, removing all obstacles. Because I want to raise a resilient child, a problem-solver who takes responsibility for his own capacity to change.
5. Help them dream about Plan B.
I asked my son questions about what he hoped to do in life with his instrument, so we could devise plan B. What was his end game? What did he like about band? (Should he try another elective better suited for what he’s good at? Shoud he try out for Jazz Band instead?)
What practical steps would it take to get to plan B?
He decided to talk with his teacher about what went wrong, and about what he’d need to do if he wanted to do band in high school.
What You Might Not Want to Do: A Beginning List
Don’t just distract them.
Yes, sometimes they’ll need help to snap out of it (…a donut? Did I suggest that? Maybe they just a good joke. I heard this week, “If you had the choice between being thin or eating tacos every day, would you choose hard tacos or soft tacos?” I digress). But communicate that being angry, sad, or afraid are okay. And you’ll sit with them through it.
That said, don’t just let them wallow.
They’ll need healthy ways to take captive their thoughts (2 Corinthians 10:5)! You’re establishing patterns on how to deal with painful days in the future: The unfair boss, the project that blows up in their faces, the kids who won’t listen.
Don’t focus on what everyone else did wrong.
“I wish that teacher had seen your talent” makes the problem about someone else–and surrenders our kids’ capacity to change. Grow. Learn.
Don’t get sucked into the drama.
I liked a metaphor I read from an article years ago: Picture your child getting a shot at the doctor’s office. You could look distressed with them (“I know! It hurts! It hurts!”), or you could hold them quietly, whispering calmly in their ear. One helps them back away from the proverbial ledge more than the other. Here are 8 Strategies for Tackling Kid Drama (without Squashing Kids’ Emotions).
Don’t accomplish Plan B for them.
Restore their sense of “I can” by showing them they have the ability to dig themselves out of whatever hole they fall in. I agreed to email my son’s band teacher (without a guilt trip) so we could devise strategies over spring break, but my son had a list of action points all his own. (You might like this post about “hope” being plan B.)
The Rest of the Story
So yet again (you’ll remember this kid’s story of almost quitting football last autumn–and somehow ending up as Most Improved Player)–God was kind to my son.
Two weeks ago, one of my son’s strategies–to audition with a different instrument–became a possibility.
Would you believe that kid is now in Advanced Band next year?
But here’s the bonus: He’s a different kid because of his failure. A better one. And as much as I would have spared him the pain, I wouldn’t spare him the richness of working overtime to great success.
Parenting has this way of exposing a part of who you are in ways both beautiful and terrifying.
As in, Wow! Who knew I had this gift for creative teaching? Or, Who knew I could handle this amount of laundry and still emerge with enough panties to fight the day?
But also, as author Elizabeth Stone has written, Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.
Parenting my kids scares me because I want so much. Reading blog posts I authored when they were young, I remember I have always longed for great things for them. (In them, I repeat the phrase “I want my kids to…” a lot.) But as my season of responsibility and control wanes and I hand them the reins, I see what I have always seen in me: Fear.
And it leads to some of my worst parenting decisions.
It happens when I hear my sons’ loud laughter at an inane or questionable YouTuber. When I realize I forgot to check up on their grades. When I wonder if he’s telling me the truth, or what he’s doing downstairs while I read in bed at night. When I allow him to spend a night at a friend’s, and realize there’s little I could do if his friend pulls up p*rn on a cellphone.
With teens that I am slowly releasing, it feels like I’m pushing them out of the nest…and watching gravity take them as the ground gets nearer very, very fast.
I know that if he is leaving for college in three years, I must begin to release. As I told my oldest this weekend, It’s the Holy Spirit in you that I trust.More than my son, I trust the God who’s already written his days.
(Or at least I try to.)
But fear whispers to all of us as parents, What will happen to my child? What will my child become? And what can I do to make sure those odds are in my favor?
May I be honest with you? I see fear cutting some of the best of us down at the knees. In fact, sometimes it hits hardest those among us who felt unprotected and vulnerable as kids. I see the promises they make: That will never happen to my kids.
The Place of Fear
No doubt God has given us fear so that when, say, our child is running into the street after that ball, we do not stop to examine our manicure. I should have gone with more of a matte. Fear helps us envision what could happen, and make a plan.
But I also think it rules the hearts of women.
Sometimes I wonder if it’s a particular struggle for women, as lust is often more for men. God speaks specifically to women concerning being under authority, saying we are Sarah’s children “if you do good and do not fear anything that is frightening” (1 Peter 3:6). Is it inherent with our historic vulnerability? I don’t know.
Slavery vs. Sonship
I only know it’s a slave driver, this fear. I feel it lashing my back, threatening me with potential consequences. I am not pulled and compelled by love; I am pushed and provoked by the concern that snaps at my heels.
Lately, I have been piecing together what God says about fear. He always seems to follow up Do not be afraid with I am with you. But he does actually call it slavery:
I find it fascinating that his fear-antidote is to be a son. To have God as Father. (Tim Keller notes that we are all called sons because in ancient times, the sons inherited; the sons were privileged. And because of Jesus, even the daughters have the privileges of the sons.)
First John reminds me, too, of the fear-antidote: There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love (4:18).
And isn’t that what I found in my son’s cancer scare? Didn’t it reveal the holes of my belief in God’s goodness, like Swiss cheese? The irony is not lost on me that 1 Peter 2 refers to “pure spiritual milk” as tasting that the Lord is good. It is elemental, something we must feed on constantly.
Isn’t that the fundamental point where my faith starts to jitter and shake? Where I see God as detached and driving, rather than more loving than I could ever be, and pulling me close?
Snipping the Leash
I realize that like any slave throughout time, when I place my leash in the hands of fear, I am ruled and jerked around as its captive. I work like a dog in what Gary Haugen has called “prayerless striving.”
The Pharisees were masters at the guise of control, rules, appearances, at placing burdens on others they themselves couldn’t lift (sounds a little like…slavery?). And within that control, they mowed right over the ability to love others.
Fear-parenting often leaves me reactionary, controlling, and vindictive. I reside in the knee-jerk area of my functioning. I’m not acting from trust in a loving, able, and infinite God, but a 30-something human with weak, empty hands.
I become unloving. I value the safety of rules and control more than wisely considering the heart in front of me. I’d rather run in and make a rule or issue a consequence (Give me thy cell phone!) rather than shepherd the heart of my child. As Marguerite Porete wrote in the 12th century, Faint hearts will not rise to tackle the demands of love. The faint-hearted take the lead in fear, not love, and do not allow God to work in them.
But when I begin from the place of beloved daughter, the leash is snipped. The slave is released. My chains, as the song goes, are gone.
I think about this with my teens; about the choices I cannot make for them. Ruth Barton writes gently,
One of the hard things that Judas’s story teaches us is that we cannot control others and their choices. Judas had been given the ministry and apostleship as much as any of the others, but his choice to “turn aside and go to his own place” was his to make.*
Of course, of course we should exercise control and consistent discipline over our kids (see 1 Timothy 3:4 and about half of Proverbs)! But our discipline and control can and should proceed not out of our white-knuckled terror, but our own place of trust in a good Father.
I'm totally #thatmom--the one diving into all the weirdness with my kids, sidestepping a few eyerolls.
Pull up a chair for practical ideas and discussions on the parenting, relationships, and spirituality we're all army-crawling through every day. After five and a half years in Uganda, my family and I returned to the U.S., where I write and speak professionally, and we continue to work on behalf of the poor. My first solo book, Permanent Markers: Spiritual Life Skills to Write on Your Kids' Hearts (Harvest House), released October 2021.
Parenting has this way of exposing a part of who you are in ways both beautiful and terrifying.
![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")
