Teacher - just one of the roles of a mom

Being a home-school mom, I have tried various tactics to get my kids to learn, to get through school work and to grind that information into their little heads.  Sometimes I felt that the standard way of teaching was the only correct way, but it often became so tedious that it resulted in more headaches, frustration and tears than actual learning.  Other times I felt guilty taking more time to teach smaller lessons thoroughly with more attention to detail, and not stopping until they really internalized what was being taught.  That resulted in lessons that really stuck and are remembered with fondness, even though they slowed down the school year quite a bit.

Through the mistakes and successes year by year, I got one through till graduation with even a year and a half of community college under his belt before he went off into the big wide world to find his own direction.  He seems bright, well read and capable, so I suppose I can chalk it down to a success, though in retrospect I can see how I could have done even better.

One problem I see is that many mothers and even school teachers never learned to enjoy the process of learning.  They don't like to read, they don't enjoy correcting their mistakes or learning new vocabulary.  When it comes time to helping their children learn, they already have a negative attitude in their minds that school is a drag, which naturally spills over to their kids.  That's right, even teachers!  Go figure...

Even if your child is not a homeschooler, the job of educating him or her lies squarely on your shoulders - not the school.  It's up to you that he does more than get his work done, but that he understands and appreciates it.  Of course he may be more talented in one subject over another, but you are the only one who can help him appreciate the value of them all.  Sometimes the time-consuming effort of you sitting down with him to talk him through every step of his homework is an investment that will reap life-long rewards.  Naturally you don't want him depending on you for this all the way through high school, but there are times when close, one-on-one care is exactly the motivation that he needs.

When children are feeling stressed out, are struggling with inner problems of insecurity or confusion, no matter how smart they are, they cannot focus their attention on simple school work.  Little ones are so easily coaxed out of this with the wise direction of parents who can calm that confusion.   The older they get, the tougher.  You have to transmit a love of learning to them that they will pick up and build upon, even when they're not doing traditional school activities.  The question is, are you the cause of those inner struggles they have?

You can spark that sense of discovery and fun in your daily relationship with them - when they need to help you make a budget for the groceries, figure out how much they can save to buy that special toy, enjoy the history of the town where you live as you pass by famous landmarks, and so much more.  Pick up on the simple questions they ask, like "Where do clouds come from?"  Right there you have a mini science class ready to be taught on the spot.  "Why do dogs howl?"  Pull out your computer, type your key words into your handy Google search engine, and class has begun.  As they have to face the more mundane class work that is required of them, these moments of learning with you will color all the rest with a more pleasant relaxed feel.

Believe it or not, even you will start to love learning too.

No More Apologies

OK, so you got my angst-ridden teenage story in a nutshell last week. (Finally for the girls who have been patiently waiting for part II!) So where do we go from here?  If so many young women suffer silently, not knowing what to do about their inferiority problems and loathe to admit that they even have one, are so easily offended by those who would want to help them and yet badly want help, who do they turn to and what becomes of them?

I don't know about you, but every little girl I have ever known loves dressing up in her mommy's clothes, clunking around in her high heels, trying on her lipstick and pretending to be a beautiful lady.  Loving beauty and wanting to be feminine is programmed into each of us to one degree or another.  As we grow, people, circumstances, our own worries, fears and expectations shape our behavior and self-image.  That's what happened to me.  That little girl never left me, just got pushed into a corner and told to be quiet.

Breaking out of my old insecurities meant finally embracing the fact that if I felt I was a woman of value and beauty in my character, what was wrong with trying to let it show externally? I wasn't being irrational, superficial or unspiritual to love feminine things.  That I didn't need a practical reason why I should wear these cute heels, other than I thought they were cute.  And that I didn't have to apologize in front of my all-male family that I wanted to watch a romantic comedy, even if I knew the acting would be lousy.  Funny that even writing this makes me kind of squirm with embarrassment, but as I've said, I'm a work in progress...

But one thing I have witnessed in both myself and in so many other women, is that though we may resist and insist that we are perfectly happy with the way we are, that "this is me" and "I'm just not the feminine kind," we all want to look and feel better underneath the barriers we put up for ourselves.  If God created us this way, we only harm ourselves to ignore it.  From the girls who go wild with suggestive clothing and promiscuous behavior to the ones who, like me, wanted to blend into the scenery with a dull nondescript appearance, they all have the same insecurities inside. Every one wants to be loved for who she is and seen as lovely and feminine, both inside and out.  

Encouraging friends have helped me to bring out that stifled part of me, and has made so much of a difference.  Loving who you are is such a trite cliche, but there is no other way to put it.  Knowing how God made you and wired you as a woman is all a part of that.  Being surrounded with supportive women of God is key to all of this. That means loving suggestions, and loving criticism - laughter and the kind of compliments that only women know how to give.

I used to look around a room full of strangers and neurotically compare myself with the women I saw.  Now I very often see the familiar looks in the eyes of women who have the same insecurities I once had.  I want to tell them how beautiful they are and how they could have so much fun enjoying their beauty, but I dare not say a word, because I know how painful that subject can be.  Maybe they'll read this and start to see themselves through God's eyes.  I wish I had learned this a long time ago.  Better late than never!

The Girl Who Couldn't Take a Compliment

September 1975, Lewis, Indiana.  I just turned 14, had arrived from Korea where my parents worked as missionaries, just one month before.  It had been five years since I had last been to the US, and though it was my home country it didn't feel anything like home to me. I was starting 9th grade knowing absolutely no one and I was terrified.

Day one, my dad drives me to Craig Jr. High, a modern (for that time) building all shiny and new.  I walked into my home room class filled with beautiful, fashionably dressed white kids with blond hair and smooth complexions.  I was the little half-Filipino girl with weird clothes that had been bought at the Korean market, with a hair-cut done by her mom, no make-up, no jewelry, no friends.  People stared, but worse that anything were the monstrous thoughts that filled my head.  I was certain that everyone hated me, that every laugh or muffled conversation was about me, that I was a freak.  I sank into my seat not wanting to be seen,  not knowing that my paranoid behavior made me look even stranger to their curious eyes.

I prayed that I would die right then and there.  I prayed that Jesus would return, that the earth would be destroyed and I would be spared this unbearable misery.  It didn't help that when I went home and cried my eyes out to my mom in shame that she just told me what she always said since I was little "But you're such a pretty girl!"  I knew that I was anything but.  The thought of fitting in and looking like the rest of them just wasn't possible. Make-up was forbidden and my mom was convinced that the price of American clothes was ridiculously high, that pierced ears were for "barbarians" and that I was just fine the way I was.  I cried after school every single day for the first five months, much to the distress of my mother who couldn't console me.

The trauma of that year marked with self-hatred and humiliating experiences stuck with me for decades, literally.  Moving back to my old school and being with old friends in Korea didn't make those negative spirits vanish, they just hovered, whispering in my ears, smothering my sense of self-worth.  And so I did what I now know has become the most common and safest defense mechanism of all self-conscious girls.  It's the "I'm-too-intelligent-to-care-about-looks-you-superficial-egotistical-jerks Syndrome."

I decided that I liked just wearing plain jeans and my brother's hand-me-down clothes, that pretty girls were probably brainless snobs, and that wanting to be feminine was an insult to my intelligence.  People would have to like me for who I was, not what I looked like, and I wasn't about to bow to the dictates of the fashion world.  I would dress the way I felt.  Sloppy, unfeminine, bland.

I convinced myself that I wore what I liked, but it didn't stop me from hating what I saw in the mirror.  I secretly envied girls who looked better than myself and wished I could have their figures/wardrobe/skin/hair/make-up/sense of style/confidence. But if anyone would try to offer help or a suggestion that I should change my appearance, I was up in arms, offended that they would dare imply that I was not happy with the way I was.  My superior intellect transcended the shallowness of society's obsession with physical beauty - so I thought.  If anyone tried to compliment me and tell me I was pretty, I was also insulted. They were being condescending and implying that I needed some lame encouragement to feel better about myself.  I felt just fine, thank you, how dare you treat me like I need your compliments!  How I could be so insecure and so arrogant at the same time, I have no idea.

How I became totally secure in my sense of self-worth and beauty and lost all traces of arrogance, is a chapter that will never be written.  Overcoming all of this is still a work in progress and I have to admit those thoughts still attack me, sometimes daily.  But things most definitely have changed.  But I have written too much for one post, stay tuned for part II....

A Slightly Skewed Thanksgiving?

Had a nice Thanksgiving?  Did you go around the table as a lot of families do to say what you've been thankful for this year?  We could all benefit from more gratefulness and awareness that all we have is because of God's mercy and love for us.  But something slightly skewed can come out of this as well.

I was looking through Christian videos about Thanksgiving and saw a common assumption, that being content with what we have is always good, while being dissatisfied is always wrong.  If that were true, there would be no Thanksgiving to begin with.  Imagine the pilgrims being satisfied with the persecution of their faith, with the inability to worship God freely.  Imagine the colonists being satisfied with the oppression of the British crown that only wanted to tax, extort and control them and even massacre them when they resisted. There's a time when being content is very, very wrong.

I am so thankful for this beautiful country where we live, and for all the abundant blessings that we have.  But the abundance came through sacrifice, through the shedding of blood, through freezing winters, ragged armies, and moments when hope was almost snuffed out, all for the cause of the freedom they believed in.  When you've fought, bled and sacrificed for what you know God has promised you, the blessings that follow are more precious than anything else.  They stand as a reminder of God's faithfulness, and in an amazing way they continue to multiply and bless everyone around you for years to come.

Now's our chance to sacrifice.  Is there anything you're willing to bleed for?  Campaign of Israel: www.SucceedinLife.org

Chasing the Master

We saw Nubs the Dog on the Leno Show, and my husband, being a dog lover was enthralled by his story.  It was an inspiring story of loyalty and perseverance, but I only really got it when I heard Dave preach about it on Wednesday night.  It hit me hard and painted a picture in my mind so vivid that I don't believe I'll ever forget it.

A wild dog surviving in the deserts of Iraq, fighting and scavenging with the other packs of ferocious dogs that inhabit his territory.  An Iraqi soldier decides to capture him to turn him into a fighting dog to gamble with and slices off his ears.  He's starved and sent into a ring of other snarling half-crazed dogs to fight for his life so that a few bored men can get a laugh and steal each other's money.  He ends up stabbed with a screw-driver and left for dead.  And he comes across a US Marine camp with the first friendly voices he has ever heard.

That in a nutshell was the life story of Nubs the dog - Nubs the name given to him by Maj. Brian Dennis who saw something good in this brute.  In time the marine befriends him, and when he sees the gaping wound on his side, administers first aid the best he can, and sees him survive the night.  But weeks later the soldiers receive orders to pack and travel 75 miles through the desert to set up a new camp.  They drive off in their Humvees and watch Nubs chasing their convoy as far as he can before he turns into a small speck on the desert landscape.  Two mornings later, who should appear at the marine Major's tent flap, but Nubs the dog.  He had traveled that entire distance in 18 degree weather to stay close to the one man who cared about his life.  He wasn't about to let distance or difficulty stop him.

Long story short, Major Dennis raised $5000 through emailing friends and was able to send Nubs home to sunny California, enjoying the beaches of San Diego and eating dog chow for the rest of his life.  Sweet story, but as I listened to Dave preach, I heard so much more.

Working in the US, one of the most common things to hear are people complain about God not being fast enough, not caring, not answering the way they think He ought to.  I can't count how many have come to God, to church, seen huge changes and then gave up on God and church when other obstacles came along, and those huge changes just faded away.  No one knows what faithfulness and trust is anymore.  The services are too long, the prayers don't sound just right, the music isn't my style, the building's too far away, no body pays attention to me, too many people pay attention to me, I just don't feel like believing any more.  Sickening but it's the reality of the American Christian today.

Nubs had no reason to trust any human being.  He had no reason to be faithful or loving to any creature at all.  He had been cut, bruised, wounded, abandoned and left for dead, yet he chose to love and sacrifice himself to find the one he believed in.  He chased after the master that he chose, and now is secure in a happy home.  How badly do we really want God?  How eager are we to chase after Him?  How willing are we to forget all the horrible things in our past and just keep our eyes glued to God?

More than ever before, I want to chase down and pursue my Master until the end of my days.  Who thought that a wild Iraqi dog could teach me how to honor and sacrifice to God?  But then again, wasn't it Jesus who called a woman of faith a little dog one day?

Adoption - When to Let Them Know

Ligia asked me a question a few weeks back about when to tell an adopted child the truth about their origins.  I know quite a few adoptive families, grew up among some, and know some now.  I've seen parents who have tried different methods of dealing with the subject, but the families that I saw with the happiest, most well-adjusted children were those that were completely honest from the beginning.

This is what I witnessed growing up as a missionary's daughter in Korea, where a number of other American missionaries had adopted either Korean or American babies.  From what I remember, they treated the fact that they were adopted as a wonderful, beautiful experience that made those children uniquely special.  My mother explained it to me so eloquently about how special a child is who has been specifically chosen by his or her adoptive parents because they were loved and wanted, yet many children who are born into families are not always loved.  Her explanation even made the little 5 year-old me feel jealous and wish I had been adopted too.  I was so disappointed that I wasn't!

Those parents who took orphans into their households, were proud to tell their little ones from the time they could understand, what a blessed day it was when they brought them home from the orphanage, and when they joined their family.  They never lied or pretended that they were their biological parents, and never once implied that there was anything wrong with being adopted, which of course there isn't!  They didn't raise them to feel pity or shame for their past, just to know the truth, and the most important truth was that they were just as loved and as precious as the rest of their biological children.

Hiding the truth and pretending only makes it worse when they do find out, because: 1. They will never fully trust that you are telling the truth about anything.  2.  They will feel that you think their past is something shameful which could lead to a lot of resentment and insecurity.  3.  They will see you as weak because you didn't have the courage to do what was right from the start.

If God asks us never to "bear false witness" in the 10 commandments, why should we do it to the children we have chosen to love?  

Washing their mouths out with soap

When I was little, the only bad words that I knew about were "dumb," "stupid," "shut-up," "darn" and "heck".  Hearing someone say any of these words were enough for me to gasp, and urgently whisper to my mother, "She said a bad word!"  Once when a boy in 4th grade thought he would educate me in the REAL bad words, and I laughed at the silly sounds he made.  I told him that my mom had taught me all the bad words there were and if there were other ones, she surely would have told me!

Thank goodness my mom left me in a world of innocence for as long as she could when it came to cursing, and until today I feel a bit guilty using any of those five originally "forbidden" words and rarely do, if at all.  But life today is different, even in Christian homes.  TV permits a lot of swearing and filthy language, even children's films boost their ratings to PG by adding a few expletives, and parents in general feel that keeping their kid's mouths clean is a losing battle, so let them say what they want.  Parents can't resist letting one slip every now and then, so why should they enforce something they can't even follow?

What's wrong with filthy language, and who says it's filthy in the first place?  The Bible says there should be no obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, (Eph 5:4) and that an immoral person is the same as an idolater, meaning they are worshipping what is evil.  That's pretty heavy stuff considering how common these words have become.  That means that if we allow ourselves, and our children to speak in this manner, we are opening them up to a very evil spiritual world.

Telling your kids not to say bad words just because they are bad or rude, is not enough.  Parents first have to understand how destructive evil speech can be to their entire home.  There is a spirit behind all we say and confess, and we have to be the guardians of that entryway.

I have a no-tolerance policy for my kids when it comes to profanity, and I know they will never hear me use it myself.  When they first heard the words on television as toddlers and repeated them, I strongly told them that they were unacceptable and they would be spanked (I know, call CPS...) if they ever repeated them again.  Of course they had to test the boundaries and did repeat them and got a swift and painful reminder that they were NEVER to say that!  It didn't take long before the whole issue was settled, and I never had a problem with them again.

I can just hear the complaints, "You're so mean!"  If you call aggressively protecting my family from a spirit of rebelliousness, hatred and curses as being mean, then I guess I am - mean against spiritual forces that would love to tear us apart.  There are many ways that evil can infiltrate our homes and lives, and being vigilant in this area, is just one way to block the harm it wants to do.

Curses are not just medieval superstition, but are making their way into families every day, by the choices we make to ignore God's Word.  We can so easily replace them with encouraging, positive words, but that's another blog post!