parenting

On Wrestling with Time

Image bethsbarthelemy, , , , 2 Comments

My oldest walked out of our family room to join us at the dinner table, and said, “Oh, I don’t think this was supposed to be left on the stove.” Our eyes all went to the stringy, melted mess of plastic she was holding; it was a Fisher Price kitchen pot from my childhood days. My daughters had been playing Little House in the Big Woods, and naturally, were cooking on our working wood stove. At some point in the hour before, my husband had built a fire and not noticed the plastic pot sitting on it.

Tears filled my eyes and, before I could stop them, spilled onto my face. I got up quickly, and walked down the hallway. It is only a toy, I chided myself. To be crying over a toy, shame. No matter that it has been played with so many hands for dozens of years. No matter that I have childhood memories of playing with that pot, of playing with my brother. No matter.

“We’re so sorry we left the pot on the stove, Mom,” my girls gently watched my face as I returned to the table. “It’s okay, it’s only a toy,” I said. A toy with memories. It’s really just about the memories, it’s about time. How it passes like a vapor, how we are with people in special places and then suddenly, we are not anymore. I smiled at my girls, and we resumed dinner, I setting aside these conflicted thoughts for a later, solitary mulling.

The passing of time. If you have been around here, you will have noticed this is a theme for me, exploring this concept of time and memories and the many conflicted emotions accompanying it. Why is it that I can never be at peace with the passing of time? When will I be able to relive childhood memories without a longing to return to that precious, free, growing season? When will I look at photos from college days, from those frigid winter days of falling in love with Ben without wishing for a brief return to those thrilling moments? When will I see my children as tiny babies and not feel my heart lurch with pain for the fleeting season that is their childhood, under my wings? When will I think of my nephew, reliving the many memories with him throughout his 11 years, and be at peace with seeing him again someday?


As my own years pass, I have realized the answer to these questions, and all the others I have related to time here on earth… is not here, not now. So long as we are walking through time on this broken planet, we will feel the longings and lack of peace. The passing of time, and the joys of days gone, are part of the curse’s cosmic effect. How else can we explain it? When I think of Adam and Eve in the garden, back in earth’s earliest days, communing with each other and with God, I imagine their contentedness, their enduring love, their minds fully at peace and hearts with joy uninhabited. There was no sorrow in life, no brokenness in the world, no personal or cosmic effects of sin. Untainted.

And, oh, but how our lives are tainted, every hour of every day, by all that is broken inside and outside of us. In 1670, Blaise Pascal wrote,

“What else does this craving, and this helplessness, proclaim but that there was once in man a true happiness, of which all that now remains is the empty print and trace? This he tries in vain to fill with everything around him, seeking in things that are not there the help he cannot find in those that are, though none can help, since this infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words by God himself” (Pensées).

Ah, but here are wise words as we mull over these complicated thoughts. Perhaps, as in many aspects of life, this longing for bygone days, these sorrowful emotions over time, can be yet another opportunity to lead us to the heart of God; another realization of our vast need for him. Yet another opportunity to turn our eyes toward him.

As I write this, we are in the middle of the Lenten season leading up to Easter. Though often an unfavorite time of the Christian year, it has become one I have grown to value. The denying ourselves of what has become easy, cheap joy. The removing of extra distractions. A short-lived monastic experience, really, where we are living with more awareness of our lack and our need, of our pain, and from where our joy truly comes. In other words, during Lent, we are looking over the edge of that infinite abyss, feeling the cold air rising around our faces, and reminding ourselves that yes, there is a way out of this.

It’s coming. God, in the fullness of love, will through his risen Son fill that vast abyss, in both the wide earth and our private hearts. It doesn’t mean that we still don’t feel the terrifying breeze at times, or ache from the remains of a life empty, before Christ filled us up.

And so, when I am on the edge of time’s abyss, wondering where it has gone and where it is going, I am grateful to be reminded that Christ’s work on the cross is vast enough to redeem not just my heart and yours (though that alone is a wonder!), but the whole of earth with it’s cursed effects. Christ’s work will redeem the time, and while my heart wrestles with the how of this reality, I can be led to the heart of God in the midst of my wrestling. For now, that is where you will find me.

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?

Let Them See

bethsbarthelemy, , Leave a comment

A couple of weeks ago, Ben and I got into it – right as I was dishing dinner onto plates. It was that time of day where everyone is a bit tired, emotions run high, my tank is empty, and there’s still quite a bit of work to be done. I can’t even remember now what the argument was about, but it was clearly something we both felt strongly about, and it wasn’t resolving quickly. So we told our children to get started on dinner, we’d be back in a few minutes, and we went back to our room to work it out.

A few minutes turned into 45, and multiple times, a child came back to ask for something. We said, “Mom and Dad are having an argument, we need to work through it, and we’ll join you soon.” We heard them repeat the story to the others, “Mom and Dad are having an argument. They’ll be done soon.” In the end, we completely missed dinner, and our conversation ended memorably with all four children back in our room with us, on our laps, as we discussed American politics and explained the current candidates to our curious children.

Ben and I have plenty of conflicts and arguments; this is one aspect of the work of marriage, to die to self daily, listen well to the other, and seek humility. And we are growing in it. But something I have thought about over the past few years is how we want to model healthy conflict – and in this case, marital conflict – to our children.

We all have different childhood experiences of watching our own parents handle conflict; maybe your parents never fought, and so you were unprepared for dealing well with conflict. Maybe your parents fought loudly, angrily, and it was frightening for you as a child. Maybe your parents fought in front of you, but resolved issues behind closed doors, so you were not able to witness the resolution. Maybe your parents separated because of too much conflict.

For Ben and I, we want to model not only healthy conflict – as in, handling our arguments in a way that still respects the other – but also healthy conflict resolution. We want our kids to see us apologizing to and forgiving each other, embracing each other, laughing together, our relationship completely restored. We want them to know that even though we may get angry at times, we still love each other, and we always will.

Just as we work hard in our home at restoring sibling relationships when there’s been discord, and restoring child-parent relationships when there’s been disrespect, so too we work hard at modeling restored marriage relationship. Because this is a picture of the gospel – working out right before our eyes, again and again. Just as in Christ, we are forgiven our many sins and brought into restored relationship with him, so too our human relationships – the conflict and the restoration – is a picture of his redemptive work.

So I’m pondering lately, how do we do this better? We want our children to see both the hard of conflict and the beautiful of restoration, because it’s a picture of life in Christ. And that – life in Christ – is the life we want them to see.

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