children

This Is What I Know

Image bethsbarthelemy, , , , 2 Comments

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

John 1:5

What is light without darkness?

—

“Look at the stars, Mom!” my daughter whispered loudly, as we walked outside near our house. I had returned from the US just a few weeks before, from what was the hardest, saddest trip I had ever made. We had lost our nephew tragically; months later, I still do not have words for the depth of collective pain both felt and witnessed in those weeks following, or for these current days.

I looked up, mirroring my daughter’s face. The stars were bright tonight, the winter air dry and crisp and cold, our breath coming out in little puffs. Cause out here in the dark, underneath a canopy of stars, constellations falling from your heart, promise me I’m not alone, cause I’m feeling so very alone… these words from Ellie Holcomb’s song had filled my ears on those long flights, echoing the silent screams in my head as I was suspended over an ocean between my grieving families.

“Yes, they’re so beautiful,” I murmured back, squeezing her hand. If it weren’t for the darkness, never would we witness the glory of these bright and burning balls throughout our galaxy. Would I rather there just not be the darkness? At that moment, yes. And yet he created them both. In the darkness, he gave glorious, beautiful, billions of bodies of light. Humans of all time have looked up in the night, just as we were now, and appreciated the miracle. Did God have to create stars, these sources of lovely light in our night sky? Do they exist only for his glory and our beauty?

We know now that stars are vital for the existence of life, particularly our largest star, the sun. Without it, all life on earth would be exposed to cosmic radiation; without photosynthesis, all plants, animals, and humans would die. Life could not be sustained on earth without stars. Even in the night, God is sustaining our very lives through the physical proximity of earth to the sun.

I held my daughter’s hand as we walked slowly home, both of us quiet, in our own thoughts. The stars are essential for the continued existence of our physical lives, and a source of beauty, comfort, and direction in the darkness of night. In him was life, and this life was the light of men…the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. As long as there has been darkness, longer has there been the true Light. Has the darkness not overcome us, though? Looking at the world some days, it is hard to say. Some days, the night is thick and the outline of the constellations is faint, but the stars are constant, existing no matter the obscurity between us and them. And every morning, the sun itself rises again as the earth turns. In the earliest breaking of the world, in the history of the breaking of the world, and in my current world breaking, light is overcoming darkness, both the literal physical darkness and the deep soul darkness. Jesus has been redeeming the world since its first breaking, and will not stop until the day when all is made new.

When I felt the light of the moon on my face, the memory of sun that been shining for days, you’ve already been in this desolate place, you’ve already been here, and You’ve made a way. Jesus has always been, but he has also physically walked this material dirt under our feet, breathed this air in our lungs, looked at our night sky with its glorious stars. He was with us, and he is with us. His light is breaking in, every day and every night, and in the hearts of those who look for him. This is what I know.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.

…So We Wait

Image bethsbarthelemy, , Leave a comment

“I have prayed so many times that God would bring Ginger home. Why doesn’t he answer my prayers? It’s like he doesn’t hear me. Does he not hear me, Mom?” I walked beside my 8-year old daughter in the chilly moonlight, having checked the fence line where she thought she heard a meow for our beloved, and lost, cat. My eyes misted over, my breath producing clouds in the cold winter air. “I know, babe, I know,” is the only answer I could muster at that moment.

How hard is it for God to bring back a lost cat? I can’t deny I have asked that very question. This is a small thing, God, such a small thing, but so important still. You could show the girls your power! How you answer their prayers! But perhaps what I meant was… you could show me your power. How you answer my prayers. You know I need to see it.

It’s been a season of deep darkness for us, of deep loss. Our hearts are sore and fragile, from brokenness. I had traveled alone back to the States to be with my family at an unimaginable time, to help plan a service I never imagined would need to happen. I had explained to my children how someone they love dearly had to meet Jesus before us, and how yes, we can still be very sad. I had been asking God all kinds of questions, not out of anger (yet) but out of pain.

Within two of weeks of my return, Ginger went missing. He (yes, he… I know) had been an unexpected, unrequested gift from God over four years ago, during our family’s first year in South Africa. That first year was filled with transition, grief, and stress, and then, this cutie, tiny kitty showed up in our lives and stuck around, providing much needed joy and humor. We weren’t allowed to acquire pets, living on a communal college campus, but he had acquired us, and so he stayed. Our children formed deep attachments, and if you asked them who they missed the most while in the US two years ago for our first home assignment, they would answer without hesitation, “Ginger!” But even through that long transition, he loyally waited for us, for eight months, and settled back in joyfully with his family upon our return.

Salt on an open wound, my mom had said. Yes, a very open wound, the wound of loss. The loss of our pet does not compare to the loss of our loved one, and I found myself saying, really, God? Can’t you just bring back our cat? Haven’t we lost enough already?

As I pondered how to help my daughter’s sore heart, I thought of the Psalms, where I have been spending a lot of time lately (a good place for a broken heart) and of how the psalmists asked very similar questions, in the midst of pain and suffering:

“My soul is in deep anguish. How long, O LORD, how long?” (Psalm 6:3)

“Why, LORD, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?” (Psalm 10:1)

“Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD. LORD, hear my voice!” (Psalm 130:1)

“Our heart has not turned back,
    nor have our steps departed from your way;
yet you have broken us in the place of jackals
    and covered us with the shadow of death.

Awake! Why are you sleeping, O Lord?
    Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever!
Why do you hide your face?” (Psalm 44:18-19, 23)

The following evening, at dinner, we talked about my daughter’s questions. I explained that I have these questions of God too – and that others throughout the Bible have asked God, why? And some times, many times, if we are honest, there are no real answers to the hard things happening to us. Even if there were answers, how much comfort would they truly provide? Our losses will still be immense, the pain still deeply real. We talked about how nearly every person in the Bible had difficult situations in their lives, and that following Jesus does not mean our lives will be easy. And we explained that it is okay to not understand – because we don’t either – and yet we can tell God all that’s on our hearts, because he truly wants us to.

We could give the pseudo-spiritual pat answers, but where does that leave us? Those answers have not been a help to me, in deep loss, and they won’t comfort our children either. Our pain is real, it’s raw. If God is truly our Father, he wants us to honestly come to him in whatever broken place we find ourselves. And sometimes, just curling up with him in the unanswered questions is all we can do. And we wait.

God, we need you, we need to see your power, your goodness. So we will wait, we will wait for you.

“I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I hope.” (Psalm 130:5)

Family Routines We Are Loving // March 2021

Image bethsbarthelemy, , , , Leave a comment

`Do you feel like we are in the eye of hurricane, or is that just me? For now, at least here in South Africa, we have more freedom than we’ve had for some time, to see people, to meet as a church, to hold classes in person, to go to the beach or other parks. There’s this lingering sense, though, that at any moment, our restrictions could increase, and these privileges (it’s what they’ve become, no?) may be less accessible. While I have always been a routine-oriented person, my whole family has grown even more grateful for the regular guideposts in our weeks, the pegs on which to hang our hats, if you will. While much feels out of our control, the rhythms we establish maintain a sense of calm, of intention, of expectation. Kim John Payne emphasizes the significance associated with family rhythms: “Meaning hides in repetition: We do this every day or every week because it matters. We are connected by this thing we do together. We matter to one another. In the tapestry of childhood, what stands out is not the splashy, blow-out trip to Disneyland but the common threads that run throughout and repeat: the family dinners, nature walks, reading together at bedtime (with a hot water bottle at our feet on winter evenings), Saturday morning pancakes.”

Monthly dates // It comes at a cost, but Ben and I have realized how much we need to prioritize our time together, to intentionally connect and remember each other. We are almost 12 years into marriage, and the many other commitments and distractions only increase as our time together increases. We’ve noticed that if we are not making intentional efforts at keeping our relationship connected, fun, and fresh, it’s easy to drift apart. So this year, rain or shine, we are committing to at least one date a month (and some months two!). Scheduling it ahead of time helps as we anticipate the joy of being together, recalling the events of the past week or year, sharing our griefs and hopes, and remembering just why we love each other.

Friday cleaning // While we are so grateful to have a housekeeper who resets our home once a week, six people living in a close space means it needs a second clean. In order to teach our children responsibility for our shared home, and the practicalities of how to clean, we have implemented our Friday cleaning ritual. Usually, first thing before school, I bring out the clipboard, write everyone’s names in bright colors with the tasks they’ll need to accomplish, and turn up some inspirational music (Annie’s “It’s a Hard-Knock Life” is a favorite, for some reason 🙂 ). Though the music and fun checklist help, cheerful encouragement is often needed as I skirt from room to room, helping as needed.

Monday parenting encouragement // This past year has felt lonely at times, no? Ben and I have felt the strain of parenting without much support, and at times, felt discouraged as parents. We’re utilizing one of our church’s subscription to Right Now Media to do a short parenting study together. Cups of tea or hot chocolate in hand, we sit down to receive input and teaching, and converse over this immense privilege and responsibility.

Wednesday evening small group // We are grateful that we can meet in person for our weekly small group from our church. We all look forward to gathering for a simple supper, usually soup and fresh bread, and then moving into a time of study and prayer. The younger children wander in and out of our living room while playing, the older ones may sit and listen, or read a book nearby. Tess will often fall asleep on my lap. The time feels sacred, after many months without this privilege, the gathering together of our church family.

Saturday morning pancakes // Not to be cliché, but we do start our weekends with a batch of fluffy sourdough pancakes. The children enjoy taking turns being the “flipper” of the pancakes, an ever important job, and we eat together in our jammies. Though during the week we may need to get an earlier start on our days, the weekend is extra sweet when eased into.

Sabbath // This past year, our family began a formal Sabbath practice, where we pause from most of our daily chores, work, technology, and spending to spend time resting together, following the example of God himself in Genesis and the tradition of God’s people throughout history. With anticipation, we wrap up our work on Saturday afternoon, giving the house one last pick-up, sending that last text, prepping the food for Sunday, and putting the finishing touches on our Shabbat meal for Saturday evening. As we light the candles and break the bread, we exhale from the week, share our highs and lows, and ease into rest with intentionality. On Sundays, we will either go to church (our church meets every other week currently), or on a family walk or to a favorite coffee shop with an area for the children to play. It’s been beautiful and restorative, though it isn’t surprising, is it? God knows what we need.

Sunday movie + pizza night // We end our Sabbaths with our longest-standing family routine – the Sunday night pizza and movie night we’ve been enjoying for five years. We began this routine in preparation for moving overseas, as a point of stability for our children that we could take anywhere. We’ve had pizza and movie nights on different continents, in many different places, and we’re not sick of it yet! Lately, we are enjoying Little House on the Prairie – it’s been fun for Ben and I to rewatch this classic series as adults. 🙂

These are some of our family routines that have helped this past year, as the world around us trembles and adjusts, to keep us grounded together and provide stability. While routines are often regarded as especially helpful for children, I would argue they are also significant for adults, and one of the most powerful ways to simplify our lives.

I’d love to hear: what are some of your most life-giving routines in this season?

On Schooling at Home and Changing Plans

bethsbarthelemy, , , , , Leave a comment

Just in the last couple of weeks, I have had four friends share that they have decided to homeschool this year; and I know that number is growing exponentially as we all seek to make sense of this year. When it seems so much is out of our control, this is one area we actually can take back – our children’s schooling. I totally understand, because at one point, we did too.

Though completely different circumstances, it brings me back to a couple of years ago when we were in a difficult place of sorting out our children’s education. Since before we had children, Ben and I had felt strongly that we would aim to public school them, for convictions beyond the scope of this post. When we considered where in the world to serve in theological education and discipleship, schooling options for our children became a major factor. It was, in fact, one of the deciding reasons why we chose South Africa – for the good government school just up the road from us, where we planned to send our children.

Many of you know the details of our story, but in sum, enrolling our eldest in this school proved more difficult than we had expected, and we would need to obtain an additional visa for her. Additionally, we had our first trip back to the States planned for her first grade year, which would require pulling her out halfway through the South African school year. We prayerfully talked through our options for several months, though our options continued to shrink. In the end, we felt peace about homeschooling for her first grade year, and the decision in and of itself was a relief, though we knew the task was monumental.

This was two years ago, and I can confidently say now that we are grateful for the circumstances which caused us to change course. Homeschooling our children has been an unexpected joy and gift to our family, and though we take it a year at a time, we plan to carry on for as long as it makes sense.

For many families, this change of course educationally is far from ideal; many have made decisions in the past years which is best for their families, and have now had to redirect completely. Not only is this frustrating (“We had figured out what was good for our family!”) but it’s also completely unsettling (“What will this year be like? How will we do it?”). My heart is heavy for our many friends who are navigating this; and yet, I am also hopeful. Thankfully, our God is in the business of bringing good out of hard circumstances. His plans are providentially far better than our best-laid ones.

Maybe in the end, schooling at home will not be the best fit for every family. But perhaps there was a child, or two, who really needed that extra time with Mom or Dad; who needed a break from the social pressures of school; who needed some time to work at his own pace; who benefited greatly from extra free time; who enjoyed a slower pace. Perhaps there are parents who needed to reconnect with their children; who learned more intricately about their children’s strengths and weaknesses; who discovered new passions and fears in their children’s hearts; who needed to die to self more deeply each day to live for Christ; who had more space to disciple the hearts of their children.

And maybe, at the end of this hard circumstance, when COVID is more of a memory, and whatever form of normal has returned, we can look back on these change of plans with gratitude. Though they were hard, there was good. Do we have the eyes to see it?

The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.

Proverbs 16:9

The Long Haul

Image bethsbarthelemy, , , , Leave a comment

Last week, I returned home from a few hours out working to find my daughters puttering around inside. Almost immediately, the oldest said to me, “Mom, we tried to get the “x” marks off your map… we just wanted to mark where our friends live around the world.” My heart sank as I comprehended her words. Just the day before, I had finally found a world map for our wall, the map I’d been looking for since we arrived in South Africa ten months ago and for the wall which has been bare ever since. I had opened it, to show the girls, then decided to have it laminated so it would last for years, and rolled it back into the tube it came in.

I turned and walked back to our study. Sure enough, there on the floor was my map, unrolled from its tube, marked with “x”s in all sorts of random spots (which friend was it that lived on an island in the middle of the Atlantic, I can’t remember), and thoroughly, quite thoroughly, sprayed with my vinegar spray in a well-meaning attempt to clean said “x’s” back off the map. I could feel my blood pressure rising as I knelt down, felt its soppiness, and recalled that it was the only one that the bookstore had.

Years! I thought. For years we have been teaching our children to obey, and yet! Sure, I hadn’t specifically said, “please don’t unroll my map, mark it with “x’s” and then clean it off with vinegar spray,” but still? When will they just get it? I thought grimly.

//

I wonder how God must have felt when dealing with the Israelites regular grumbling and unfaithfulness over the course of hundreds of years. Or when David’s very deliberate disobedience had huge and devastating consequences. Or when Jonah, after God rescued him from his disobedience through a big fish and changed the Ninevites hearts, struggled so much with hatred of others that he asked God to end his life.

We know from the biblical account, that “the Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” (Ps 103:8).

Fortunately, the Lord reminded me quickly that morning, before I could say something I would later need to apologize for, that indeed, obedience in my own life is a long-term project. Though I have been saved by grace for the majority of my life, I still struggle to obey, most often in my heart and in my attitude. Could I truly expect perfection from my own children when I fail regularly?

In that precious moment, God taught me this: A faithful mother is in this for the long haul. Just as God himself has been since the beginning of the world. There’s a reason no biblical author ever wrote about the ease of faithfulness, the quickness of learning obedience. There’s a reason we have been instructed to run with endurance, because finishing well requires it (Heb12:1). There’s a reason we are admonished to remain steadfast under trial, because trial will come, and steadfastness will be an absolute necessity if our faith is to survive (Jas 1:12).

In that precious moment, God taught me this: a faithful mother is in this for the long haul.

Obedience is not something that I will teach my children and expect that they will have mastered by age five, despite any parenting books that may have indicated otherwise. Rather, my faithfulness as a mother looks like loving them when they fail, and gently instructing them yet again from God’s Word about what obedience looks like. While I know they will not be perfect this side of eternity, I trust that as I seek to be a faithful mom and as God works in their hearts, growth will result, slow though it may be at times.

When I think of how God has faithfully loved me despite my disobedience, how he gently yet often firmly makes clear my shortcomings, how he teaches me over and over from his Word, I rejoice. And I prepare my heart for another day of loving my children and faithfully teaching them those same truths that I taught them yesterday, last month, and last year.

“Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you; bind them around your neck; write them on the tablet of your heart” (Prov 3:3).

//

I hung the map anyway, dried bubbly and with “x’s” in the middle of the Atlantic. And now, when I see it, I am reminded that I am walking alongside my children in their journey to godliness for the long haul, just as God is faithfully walking with me.

originally published on August 10, 2017

Enjoy Every Minute

Image bethsbarthelemy, , , , , , Leave a comment

Enjoy every minute.

Three little words. Words that elicit a rushing force of guilt like no others for this mama. In that early morning hour, hour after hour, when my arm is falling asleep because I’ve been laying on that side nursing my babe yet again and my eyes are drooping and the clock indicates only a few more precious hours of opportune sleep exist before the upcoming day.

In that normal morning hour when I rise to sounds of three little people who need me more than anyone has ever needed me before, and I feel like I have very little of worth to give.

In that breakfast time when my toddler refuses one more bite of her favorite oatmeal as a test of will and I must be consistent so she knows she can learn that love is not about just giving her what she wants, and so we sit and wait, for one of us to give in.

In that mid-morning hour when I think my baby needs a nap but she cries because she thinks not and I wonder how my motherly intuition can fail me so many times. I think maybe I never had that motherly intuition after all.

During that late morning walk when we have just had the most fun at the park and my toddler helps to push the stroller and runs gleefully in front of me, so free and independent and stumbles only like a human who has walked just a year does. I watch her independence falter, her glee fall to pieces, and her tears stream as she runs to me with her little button nose scraped and we are both broken.  

In that glorious naptime hour that is so anticipated and needed when both babies are meant to be sleeping but neither one is and I feel panic rising and my breath is short and I need space, time, quiet, peace and it doesn’t happen.

In that famous witching hour when I want to greet my husband into our peaceful home with smiles and kisses and something besides yoga pants but the kids are grumpy and I am grumpy and we all just need him as soon as he walks through the door. And we get a pizza for dinner.

It’s the hardest in that hour when I put my babies to bed for the night with stories and songs and lots of cuddling and tucking in. I failed this day, again, like I do every day. I failed to enjoy every minute. I will look back on this day in two years, ten years, thirty years and regret that I failed deeply at this and I cannot do anything now to fix it. This thought eats me alive and makes it hard for me to sleep those few hours and clouds my days with these three sweet gifts from God.

So I stopped trying.

And instead, I began to focus on truth, found in God’s Word. Nowhere, fortunately, does God command us to “enjoy every moment.” Rather, he commands us to be faithful. In 1 Samuel 24, as the prophet Samuel gives his farewell address to Israel, he recounts all that God had done for Israel since their slavery in Egypt, and instructs them to serve the Lord: “only fear the Lord and serve him faithfully with your heart. For consider what great things he has done for you” [24]. What has the Lord done for you? Called you to himself? Forgiven your sin? Given Christ to you as your righteousness? Consider these things.

What does faithfulness look like, for you, in your season?

This current season may be one where the Lord is working hard on your sanctification – praise him for that! For “he disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness. For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it” [Heb. 12:10-11].

For me, faithfulness looks like this: embracing this season with little ones, full of hard and long days, thanking God for these children and the great responsibility of loving them; hourly checking my attitude, that it is not resentful or self-serving, but asking God to help me in my constant small sacrifices, to do so cheerfully; to with my words and actions point my children back to God, modeling for them what it means to “love God and enjoy him forever”; daily leaning into Christ’s sacrifice for me, accepting that God’s forgiveness covers all my sin, resting in his perfect love; seeking to honor God in all the dish-washing, diaper-changing, peace-making. It does not look like: enjoying all those hard moments, and dwelling in a place of guilt when I don’t. God would have us find our full enjoyment in him, not in our circumstances.  But through our enjoyment of him, we can, with gratitude, live faithfully, whatever our circumstances.

For very good reason, this verse has been a favorite lately:

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” [Lam. 3:22-23]

Even when we fail to be faithful, he never does.

Praise God!

originally published on April 15, 2017