S-t-u-p-i-d

This past February, when I was realllly pregnant (I know they say you’re either pregnant or you’re not, but I think when you are 9 months pregnant, you are realllly pregnant), my sister came down from Michigan to visit us and to be here for my baby shower. I absolutely loved having her here. She is one of my best friends, and she’s lots of fun. We always have a blast when we’re together.

We have many similarities not only in our physical appearance but in our senses of humor, our beliefs about certain things, and so forth. Of course, we also have some differences, and one of these is that Kristen will occasionally use a curse word. However, when she’s in my home, she voluntarily makes an effort not to do so. This visit, she’d been doing great in avoiding what my kids and I call “bad words”. So as we sat chatting in the living room, she said, pleased, “I don’t think I’ve used any bad words at all.”

“Nope. You’ve been doing great,” I said.

And from her position next to me on the couch, Ellie piped up into the conversation, “Mommy said a bad word once.”

“Huh?” I said, and the look on my face must have shown that I didn’t know what Ellie was talking about.

“Oh, really?” Kristen said gleefully at the same time. “What did Mommy say?”

Ellie glanced at me. She knows you’re not supposed to repeat bad words.

“It’s okay,” I said to her. “You can say what I said.”

Ellie glanced from me to Kristen and back to me.

“Really,” I said, curious to find out what bad word I had supposedly said. “You can repeat it.”

Ellie looked at Kristen and said, as if she felt embarrassed on my behalf, “She said ‘s-t-u-p-i-d’.”

Yep, she spelled it. She was unwilling to say such a bad word out loud. So she spelled it, then looked at me, hoping I wasn’t mad.

Kristen and I burst into laughter. “That’s it?” Kristen asked, disappointed.

I must have called something “stupid”—I absolutely never use that word to refer to a person, because it’s insulting, demeaning, and totally unnecessary to use it in that way. I really don’t remember the incident Ellie was referring to and therefore don’t know what exactly I said.

What I do know is that my word choice stuck with Ellie. Even when it was no big deal to me, it mattered to her. I don’t know how long it had been since the time I used that word, but apparently Ellie still remembered it.

What this tells me is that I better be careful and intentional about the words I use on a daily basis.

I can’t afford to be careless or unintentional in my speech to my children. They will remember the words I’ve said—maybe not the “clean your room” words, but at least the words they considered bad. And when those words are directed at them, they may remember for a very long time.

That’s not to say that kids remember every mistake we’ve made. They don’t (thank God). Nor does every carelessly spoken word lead to their being scarred for life (thank God again). But knowing that our words can have an impact we don’t necessarily intend, we must do our best to make sure we are purposefully uplifting in our speech, especially to our children. We must.

Moms, if someone were to ask our children what bad words we had said lately, would our children have to work very hard to come up with a response?

Would they recall curse words? Would they recall insults directed at them or even at that driver in front of us? Would they remember that we shouted or rolled our eyes as we spoke? Would they remember a tone of disgust where there shouldn’t have been one? Would they be able to tell others about the times we used our words (even unintentionally) to discourage or belittle them or their efforts?

I pray the answer is no, both in your family and in mine. The old saying “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” simply isn’t true. Words, even those that aren’t specifically insults, have tremendous power to uplift or to tear down. Even when our words aren’t directed at them, our children’s consciences can be wounded by hearing us speak rudely to the clerk at the grocery store, talk about someone behind her back, or disrespect our husband.

I once heard it said that if you wouldn’t want to stand up in front of your church on Sunday morning and tell them you did something, you shouldn’t do it at all (the obvious exceptions being those things that are legitimately private). This is a great rule, and it applies to words too. If you wouldn’t want to tell others what you said and the tone with which you said it, you shouldn’t have said it to your children either

But I’m not perfect, you might be thinking. I make mistakes all the time.

We all do. Sometimes, we get things wrong. We wound our children when we don’t mean to. You’re not alone.

But because that’s true—that we’re imperfect and guaranteed to mess up sometimes—we owe it to our children to do everything within our power to make sure those times are as few and far between as possible. We should give our children the best we have, not just whatever words happen to come out of our mouths without much thought.

Most of us recently spent a lot of time trying to decide what to get our kids for Christmas, purchasing the chosen items, wrapping them, and placing them under the tree. Shouldn’t we spend just as much time—actually, far more—in purposefully speaking to our children pleasant words that will create a peaceful, secure, and loving atmosphere in our home?

After all, most of the Christmas presents will soon go by the wayside. But the gift of our consistently loving speech will never be forgotten.

Proverbs 15:4—Kind words bring life, but cruel words crush your spirit. (GNT)

Proverbs 16:24— Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones. (NIV)

Colossians 4:6—Be gracious in your speech. The goal is to bring out the best in others in a conversation, not put them down, not cut them out. (MSG)

What I Don’t Care About

A small pair of pink and red rain boots lies in our entryway. They’re right there where someone would need to walk in order to reach the door or to enter our home from our front porch. I’ve told the owner of those boots at least 17,000 times not to leave them where people could trip over them. She forgot. Again.

And I don’t care.

There are toys scattered in the front yard that should have been put in their proper places. Seeing them, I wonder, What would a person think who saw my yard like this?

And I don’t care.

We had sandwiches and chips for lunch today. One of my children took too many chips. When that child asked to be excused, several chips remained on the plate. It was wasteful.

I don’t care.

I don’t care, because two days ago, a man walked into an elementary school in Connecticut and started shooting. Six adults and 20—twenty!—children lost their lives. They died because they went to school that day like they were supposed to.

This, I do care about. I care deeply and profoundly, in a way words can’t adequately describe. Even the tears I’ve shed aren’t sufficient to express the grief in my soul, which I feel not just because I’m a mother but because I’m a human being. The impact of this horrific event can’t be fully expressed, in words, tears, or any other way.

Something like this makes everything else fade into insignificance.

I do want my children to grow up to be self-disciplined. I want them to be good stewards of what God has given them. So maybe “I don’t care” isn’t the way to put it. Suffice it to say that on Friday, I realized that many of their actions that I used to get annoyed about were never the big deals I made them out to be.

Getting upset because I might have to repeat instructions to a child who innocently forgot? It’s not worth the disruption in my peace of mind or in my relationship with that child. It’s so not worth it.

The parents of the precious children who were killed two days ago would give anything to have their children back in their home, sitting at the table and taking too many chips. They’d give anything to have to step over a pair of rain boots that in reality aren’t ever going to be in the way again. The things I’m complaining about—having to clean up after my children, having to make another trip to the store—would be precious opportunities to these parents to hold and love their children a little longer.

What I must remember is that the only reason my children’s actions sometimes annoy me is that they are here and not in heaven with Jesus. Teaching a child to pick up rain boots is a small price to pay for having that child with me day in and day out.

If my child were to die tomorrow, my first thought would not be, “Boy, I’m glad I got so irritated about those boots, especially since time was so short and I didn’t know it.” And if that’s true—that these things wouldn’t matter at all then—do they really matter now?

That’s why I don’t care any more. The boots? I don’t care. The toys? Don’t care. The chips? Don’t care.

Yes, I will continue to try to teach my children to put their things away and take an appropriate amount of food. But being annoyed when they don’t? Not anymore. At least I hope not. I pray not. Because I want to spend every second with my precious kids appreciating them and loving on them—not complaining that they’re being children. I want the things that would matter then to matter now—the love and the hugs and the time together. The bedtime stories. The times we danced like crazy in the kitchen while listening to a CD.

Those things. Not the rain boots.

Never the rain boots.

Matthew 2:18—”A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.”

1 Corinthians 13:4-5—Love is patient, love is kind…It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

A further word from Megan:

Sometimes, when we’re grieving, such as after the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary, it’s hard to find the words to pray. Hard to know how to express the groanings of our hearts. I’ve been asked to offer a prayer on behalf of all of us moms who are grieving over this tragedy. It is certainly no better than any prayer you would offer. But if you need help putting words to your prayers, or if you would just like to join moms everywhere in pouring out your heart to the Lord after the tragedy at Sandy Hook, I offer the following prayer for you. For me. For all of us.

Oh, God, our hearts cry out to You. In our grief and confusion, we have nowhere else to turn. We climb into Your lap weeping for those precious children and their families, those adults and their families. We wrap our arms around You and cling as tightly as we can, for the storms of rage and grief, pain and confusion and disbelief, are too strong for us, and if we don’t cling to You, we are destroyed. And as we cling, Father God, we feel Your tears, and we know that You grieve too. Not for the children, because they’re with You now, and You know that “in Your presence” is a far better place than down here. You grieve for those left behind–for those parents who must struggle to rebuild lives forever shattered by bullets, for the emergency workers who had to stuff their grief deep inside so as to appear strong, for all those who lost someone precious that day, and for those of us who simply grieve at how evil sprang into the world through the doors of an elementary school. You hate what sin in this world has done to us.

We don’t know where to go from here. We don’t know how to move on. We’re lost. So we beg Your Holy Spirit to intercede for us with groans words cannot express (Rom. 8:26). We beg for comfort, especially for those parents, brothers and sisters, and husbands or other family members of those killed at Sandy Hook. And yet, asking for comfort seems like nowhere near enough. So we ask You to do abundantly beyond all we ask or imagine (Eph. 3:20-21). You are Jehovah-Rapha, the God Who Heals. Pour Your healing into each heart and mind affected by this tragedy. Minister Your peace and comfort to those who so desperately need it. Whatever else we should be praying for, but don’t know it, please do that too. Father God, we weep with You. And we are humbled and consoled that You weep with us.

Amen.

Timmy’s Life of Crime

You would think age 9 months is too young to get arrested. Apparently, it’s not. Poor Timmy got arrested four times yesterday.

I’ll vouch for him that he has a really good excuse, though. You see, the four older kids had spread out their candy stashes (left over from Fall festivals, birthday parties, and who knows what else) on the dining room floor so they could trade candy. However, they failed to take into account that Timmy was awake and in the vicinity.

Timmy, upon seeing this wonderland of goodies spread out in front of him, headed straight for it and started grabbing things. “No, Timmy!” the other kids would say, snatching their candy out of his hand. Then, the minute they turned their back, he grabbed something else.

Finally, Kenny decided to put an end to the problem. “All right, Timmy,” he said—perfectly pleasantly—“I’m arresting you.” Kenny got up, lifted Timmy out of the midst of it all, and brought him to me.

This happened three more times, until finally the kids took my suggestion and decided to put their candy away until sometime when Timmy wasn’t around.

So ended Timmy’s brief life of crime. I don’t think he learned anything from the incident, and I’m sure he runs the risk of being re-arrested the first time he gets a chance to commit a similar crime. Can’t really blame Timmy, though. When temptation is spread out right there in front of him, what could a 9-month-old be expected to do besides wade right in?

We would do well to remember this principle in regards to what we as moms spread out right in front of our children.

What kinds of media do we allow into our home? Do we allow books or videos where the characters have a generally bad attitude, where sin goes uncorrected, and where that sin is made to look fun or funny? Do we allow music with questionable lyrics or values that don’t match up with our family’s values? When we do—when we spread these actions and attitudes out in front of our kids—how can we be surprised if they want to wade right in?

What about our own actions? Are we spreading hypocrisy in front of our children by telling them not to lie, then instructing the to tell an unwanted caller that we’re not home? Do we tell them to be kind to their siblings, then we scream at them? Or tell them to be hard workers, then spend all day on Facebook? When we spread out in front of our kids the idea that gratifying our own desires and pleasing ourselves is what’s most important, is it any wonder they want to wade right in?

Moms, we have a choice, and we need to make our choice very carefully, because the odds are that whatever we spread out in front of them is what they will choose to get involved in. We can spread out the stuff of this world, or we can spread out God, His character, and His ways. Of course, we can’t guarantee that our children will choose God, but we can make it a whole lot more likely when we show them God and live out a relationship with Him in front of them.

Which will it be, moms? What will we influence our children to become involved in?

Proverbs 13:20—Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm.