For all who say God doesn't do miracles

The Fussy Eater

It's fascinating to see that around the world, parents have very different ideas of what children can and can't eat. My friend who worked in our church in India prepared a meal for an Indian pastor's family, but as the parents politely ate, the children tried to hide their dislike for the chicken and potatoes that were on their plate. When she finally pulled out the fiery hot sauce in a little bottle, their mother liberally drenched the food in it and the children munched away happily.

In another part of the world I watched in horror as mothers would pile spoonfuls of sugar into their children's already super-sweet chocolate milk, and in other places fill baby bottles with Coke! They would also look at me in horror as my children would bite into a freshly chopped piece of celery. "What?? They can eat that???"

There was an age when my boys began stuffing anything their little fists could grab a hold of, into their mouths. TV remotes, cell phones, shoes, belt buckles...I had to be on constant guard duty to monitor what was going into their mouths. Babies explore the world around them at a few months old through the taste and tactile experience of their mouths as their vision and hearing are not yet well developed. That was a perfect time to start placing thick chopped carrot sticks into their hands and other healthy vegetables for them to gnaw on with their toothless gums and develop a taste for. If they swallowed some of the vegetable juice, all the better for them.

As they grew into toddlers, there was no fight to get them to enjoy a snack of raw carrots, sweet peppers or celery, because they had already enjoyed them as babies. As they got older the challenge came to get them to eat cooked broccoli, peas and other such typically "nasty" food for children. My husband was very instrumental in this phase of the game, and since I had boys his strategy worked perfectly.

"Don't eat that!" he'd shout, "Those are trees!" he said pointing to the broccoli. "Only giants eat those - like me!" That was all it took, and they'd be defiantly chewing off the tops of trees to prove that they were as tough as giants. They made faces at the bitter taste at first, but because of Dad's reaction they'd keep eating to show off their "bravery". Peas were bullets, string beans were guns, etc. etc. Some meal conversations were completely taken up with him exclaiming, "I can't believe you just ate that! Stop!!!" with little mouths busy with vegetables exploding in their teeth...Sometimes you have to sacrifice a little sanity to teach a lesson that will last a good long time.

With girls, another tactic might work better if they have no interest in proving a resemblance to giants. Choose a good role model that they would want to emulate - a woman in sports who has to eat well, a character in a book, a famous woman in history or in the Bible when Coke and candy hadn't yet made their way into anyone's diet. Also, bribery done right can actually work wonders. They have to eat their vegetables well for one or two weeks straight without complaining and then they will earn the right to have their favorite toy, clothes - fill in the blank. By the end of those two weeks, chances are they'll actually begin to like those foods, or at least dislike them a little less. The human tongue can be trained to like or dislike tastes much more readily that we think.

The trick is to have healthy food in front of them as often as possible, and limit the unhealthy to very small amounts or reserve them for special occasions. Moms who stock their kitchens with lots of sugary sodas, processed foods, white breads and candy have no right to complain that their children don't eat well. If they see a healthy food often enough, and see you and your husband enjoying it, it's highly likely that they will eventually try it and like it as well. If you've already decided that they don't like it and don't even try to offer it, how do you expect them to develop a taste for it? Common sense; yet strangely not so common any more.

Normal: Whatever we're used to

Ditching school, shoplifting, hating Dad's newest girlfriend, no one home after school, cruising the streets with gang-bangers, coke, meth, weed, fast money, pregnant teenage cousin, tatoos and revealing clothes. That was normal for Dawn and everyone in her neighborhood in East LA.

But changing "normal" meant Dawn had to believe in something so much better, something she had never experienced, and she was ready to take that risk. When Dawn started to see that she could actually go back to school and do well, that she could get rid of the drugs and even the desire for them, that God was actually answering her prayers and that she could rise above her past, "normal" took on a whole new meaning. It was as if the clouds parted and a beam of light came piercing into her soul. Her children saw it clearly and loved who she was turning into. Her family members began to come to church, tatooed, pierced and with rap sheets a mile long. They cried, they prayed they testified about what God was doing in their lives and how they would never go back - ever.

But with time, Dawn heard another voice in her head: "You're not one of these people. You've never held down a job in your life. No one in your family has ever held down an honest job. You belong on the streets. Who do you think you are?"

After a year of wonderful victories, of seeing her children blossom and grow in faith, in character and in happiness, Dawn slipped back into that old comfortable pit of "normal". Her kids begged her to take them to church. But she chose that old voice over a new life, and slowly her brothers and their families fell away too.

Dawn's case was so sad and so maddening to see, true. But how about us? How much do we accept as "normal" what in actuality is so far from what God wants for us? Half-hearted prayers, nominal faith, minimum concern for others, worries and fears that block out His voice...Could be that our "normal" is just as senseless as Dawn's.

Loving the Unlovable

I was about to turn 22, just newly married and moved with my husband to our new home for the next three years in Davenport, Iowa. Fresh out of college, I thought I'd get a nice secretarial job, but it wasn't all that easy. The town was going through and economic recession and jobs were scarce. Ironically, I was "over qualified" for the ones I wanted, and it took a while before I found the opening for a home-health aide. Kind of a step down from a nurse's aid.

I was to drive from house to house throughout the neighboring towns to visit the elderly and handicapped who had signed up for help with their household chores, cooking, bathing, feeding, and administering their medications. I was to be trained in basic first aid and nursing care at the local community college, and be paid by the hour plus gas money per mile that I drove.

I was actually excited about caring for sweet old grandmas. I just imagined how grateful they would be and what a lovely time we'd have together. That illusion lasted less than a day. The reality was that many who needed home care were those who had no family, no one to bother looking after them in their old age. They were often senile, suspicious, angry, even hostile to deal with. They shouted, swung their canes, accused me of stealing their loose change, demanded that I clean much more than I could in the time frame I was allowed. They were difficult to bathe, left piles of soiled clothing for me to clean, wouldn't eat the food I prepared, and their homes often smelled of old urine. I tried my best to show kindness and they returned it with bitterness. They were sad, lonely and very very unlovable, but they desperately needed someone to care about their forgotten lives.

I came to dread going to work, knowing that I was getting paid minimum wage for doing the job that only an angel could endure. But I remembered that Jesus asked if we love only those who love us back, what reward will be have? He wants us to love even those who persecute us. Loving the unlovable was a very unglamorous, humiliating and thankless job. But then again, isn't that the kind of treatment God gets from His creation every single day? As much as we have been loved by God when we haven't deserved an ounce of it, we ought to be able to forgive, love and reach out to others whether they ever thank us or not.

I'm sure by now all of those people I cared for 25 years ago have passed away, but the love I invested is already being multiplied and returned to me and will continue to do so for eternity. It proves that any sacrifice made out of faith is worth it. Just enough to make me want to invest so much more.

Let the poor say I am rich...

When my mom and dad knew that they were to be sent to work as missionaries in South Korea in the mid 1950's, the first thing they did was go to school. They studied Korean language, history and church growth classes. For two years before they even set foot on Korean soil, they were immersed in the preparations of a lifetime of service to the church in Korea. It was exciting and dangerous and challenging for them to arrive with two little children (I wasn't born yet), to adjust to that war-torn land.

As years went by and I came along, their Korean language skills improved tremendously, my dad could navigate through the most treacherous streets in his Land Rover, negotiate out of a traffic ticket with any Korean policeman, and befriend practically anyone he met. They were constantly going to church meetings, grand openings of Christian schools, or new churches out in the countryside, making long speeches surrounded with Korean church officials. The church, the country, the service to those people was their life...but not mine.

I learned to love some of the food and parts of the culture, but every time we'd see an American TV show on the US military channel, I would long for that far distant country that was supposedly my own. The Korean toys and dolls of 1968 were so poor and uninteresting, and the clothes were so odd when I compared them to the Sears catalog my grandmother would send us every six months. My siblings and I would dream of chocolate ice cream, American hamburgers, real pizza with real cheese, everything American. In the process, I began to resent the fact that I was stuck in a third world country while my cousins got to have what I thought, was the best of everything.

Only years later did I come to realize how shameful my attitude had been, how much of a blessing it was to experience another country, to have the opportunity to learn another language and to have the honor of being a part of the work of God. I had a rich and extraordinary childhood, but in the cold winters with the air thick with the smell of rotten fish from the open markets, with roads full of frozen mud puddles and lined with beggars, I just couldn't see it.

Now I am so thankful that God gave me that past, and I feel a sense of grief when I see others who have come to the US, whose hearts and minds still cling to their countries and refuse to learn the beautiful lessons that God has for them here. I was a selfish child who wanted what I couldn't have, and I've tried my best to make sure my children never hold those attitudes no matter where we've lived. I just wish others who have it so easy could understand.

Discipline - It's Not About the Cookies!

We've probably all seen it in shopping centers and supermarkets. The bedraggled mother with a whining, demanding child that won't stop complaining. She pushes her cart through the store with a glazed look in her eyes, staring at something in the distance as her tear-stained, candy-stained, booger-stained screaming bundle of joy lets everyone know how miserable/mad/tired/hungry/unloved he or she feels. Most of us walk by and try to pretend we don't notice, but I for one wish she would just do something!

Disciplining a child can be tricky if you don't know what you're trying to accomplish. Basically what you want is a child who knows how to control his emotions and behave in a courteous and respectful manner, while at the same time enjoying the fun of being a child. What many mothers get confused with is trying to discipline their child for their actions more than for their attitudes.

"Don't eat those cookies, they're for dessert!" Meanwhile his little mouth waters as you walk out the kitchen door to answer the phone. You know of course what happens. When you walk back in and see the trail of chocolate chips and cookie crumbs on the counter and a guilty look on his face, what do you do?

A. Scold him, maybe smack his hand for disobeying you, and make him sit on the sofa alone with no TV for a few minutes
B. Ask him, "Why did you do that? I told you not to do that!" and then clean up his mess as he runs off to hide
C. Laugh at how cute he looks with his guilty expression and crumbs all over his face, which makes him laugh too

As much as I wanted to do C, I always stuck to A. I know, I know it sounds so mean, just for a few cookies, and after all they're just precious little children...

But I had a reason to be tough on cookie offenders. Behind the simple act of eating the forbidden food, was also a test of how far can I push Mommy? Does she really mean what she says? Do I have to obey her ALL of the time? Can I use my adorableness to get away with minor crimes and manipulate her in the future? Of course they're not all thinking these deep thoughts, but they are feeling them without a doubt. Your children will draw conclusions about you and about your dependability as the authority over them based on how you enforce your boundaries.

The whole reason for the quick and forceful reaction on my part was to get his attention that Mommy's authority is not to be messed with. It really had nothing to do with the cookies themselves, it had to do with making sure that an attitude of Me vs. Mom wouldn't begin. It's either I stay within Mommy's boundaries where it's safe, or I get hurt. To ensure that they want to please you and stay close to you, the next step after discipline, is absolutely essential:

Once you know they're sorry for what they've done, they're not angry that you disciplined them (if they are, they'll need another dose of discipline - but that's for another blog post), they're feeling humbled and repentant and vulnerable, that's when you hold them close, give them plenty of kisses and kind words and tell them that you love them, BUT, you do this because you want them to grow up right. Make sure they say they're sorry, then make sure you tell them you forgive them. And then it's all forgotten, just like God treats us! It's back to normal, playing, working laughing and getting ready for Daddy to come home.

It doesn't hurt to make sure they get an extra big cookie once it's time for dessert - after all, it's not about the cookies!

Moms and Playtime

Being a mom is such a combination of adjectives! Fun, exhausting, fulfilling, frustrating, draining, enriching...if you're a mom, you know what I mean. But one thing is certain. It's a big responsibility that should never be taken lightly. You are the primary source of education for your child. They learn more than their ABC's, but how to see the world around them. You teach them how to laugh, how to feel empathy for others, how to show kindness, how to value hard work, how to appreciate good food, a healthy life-style, a happy loving family - or conversely, you can easily teach the opposite of all of these. They do come into this world with their own unique personality and set of talents, but it's you that shapes their character. Not so much with lessons and explanations, although those are very important, but mostly by example.

What's the best time to teach your little ones? Playtime! Playing blocks, dolls or super-heroes with them can actually help you understand their world the way they see it, and help shape that view to be a healthy, fear-free one. Here are some great play tips for 3-8 year-olds that can probably extend to older years as well with some modifications.

!. Let them choose what they want to play (soldiers, doctors, fairy princesses, ballerinas, garbage men...) and let them start with you fully engaged in play.

2. Don't laugh at them or make fun of the crazy imaginative scenarios they choose, e.g. They want you to be the super-mommy who has the power to destroy bad guys with the remote control, and then zap a chocolate cake into existence with the same weapon. Have fun with it, play along and act like you think their idea was great.

3. Start looking for clues about their fears and their frustrations as they play. You will be able to sense how badly they want to be a hero, if their imaginary villain makes them angry or if it's just plain fun to pretend they're winning a battle. For girls you'll be able to see if she wants to be a music star and be admired by everyone, or be a teacher and order her students (probably you and all her stuffed animals) around.

4. Gently guide playtime to help them deal with their imaginary "problems" in healthy, positive ways without completely taking over. Let them feel like they have a part in the decision on what direction playtime takes. A boy who is pretending to be a warrior may really need to feel like a hero. Don't worry that as he swings around his sword and wants to plunge it into the giant Barney toy, that he'll grow up to be a mass murderer! He needs to believe that he is strong and can handle any threat in his life. Make sure, however that he is not acting out frustration or anger, because that shows he has underlying issues of aggression that you will have to help him overcome. Let him win the battle, but then produce another scenario where he'll need to show compassion or kindness, and be a hero for doing that as well.

5. Enthusiastically praise your child for their imagined conquests and achievements. They must always be the smartest, strongest, most amazing children you ever knew in your whole life! But then help to balance the scales if you noticed some negative attitudes. The girl who is dying to be the next Hannah Montana may need some reassurance that she is beautiful for who she is and doesn't need to compete with a TV personality. Go overboard and show her that she is even better than that in your eyes.

Parents who understand the value of playtime, the insights they can gain into their child's mind, and the effectiveness of play as a time to teach and guide, can cut off harmful attitudes and insecurities at the root, long before they have a chance to grow. Your child will carry those wonderful memories of playtime with you for the rest of his or her life. Don't let these years pass you by without investing in good, fun play!