We are the "Them" We Keep Complaining About

You know how it is - more often than not, when something goes wrong in our lives, it is Someone Else's fault. We often look at the world as being made up of two groups of people: "Them" and "Us". "We" are all the friends and family who generally support the way we live our lives and don't criticize our decisions... or the people who are too disinterested to care or too far away to interfere. "They" are the Others - the people who dare to disagree with us or do things that we consider unsound or immoral. We often refer to "them" as "people". For example, "I just don't get people who... (fill the blank with an activity or thought process that you disapprove of)".

Often "they" are politicians or authority figures in some way. The thing is, we can't change "them" - we can't make them listen to us or do things our way. We *can* change "Us" - how we react and what we do to make things better. Too often, when we are complaining about "them" we are actually perpetuating a problem by not taking responsibility at our end. For example, when we complain about how much stuff gets imported from China, but aren't willing to pay a higher price for something produced without exploitation of people or resources. When we complain about the health care system, but aren't willing to pay more tax to fund a better one, then WE are the "them" we keep complaining about. When we complain about companies that pollute our air and water ways, but keep buying their products - then we are the "them" we keep complaining about. When we complain about the exploitation of children, but dress our five-year-olds in string bikinis and mini-skirts - then we are the "them" we keep complaining about. Basically, when we complain about the general unfairness of life, but don't do EVERYthing in our power to share our prosperity (not just money, but all the freedoms and priveleges we enjoy without even giving it a second thought) with those less fortunate than ourselves... then we are, and always will be, the "them" we keep complaining about.

So let's quit complaining about "them" (because - lets face it - "they" outnumber us by, like, six billion to one) and start doing something about us!

Bring On Baby Brain!

OK, so I would love to know what changes go on in mother's brains after having a new baby. I've recently read a book on neuroplasticity called The Brain That Changes Itself - although I disagree with its statements regarding evolution (of course), I would definitely recommend it as a fascinating and enlightening read. Reading about just how much the brain can and does change based on input and experience makes me wonder about the whole "baby brain" phenomenon. ("Baby brain" being the standard excuse for illogical/irrational thinking in new mothers.)

See, I've noticed a pattern. Three things consistently happen to me after having a baby. First, my spatial awareness deteriorates. In practical terms that means I stub my toes a lot and run into furniture. I know, I know - that could be just fatigue, but it often happens during the day, not just when I'm stumbling around the house half-asleep at night. Second, my hands and feet "go to sleep" at random times, not just when I'm sitting cross-legged or lying on my arms. And third is the dreams.

Soon after having each baby I started having dreams that are almost hallucinations. I feel like I'm awake and I'm fully aware of where I am, but I hear things that aren't there - usually someone walking around the room or talking. I've finally learned that if I can't open my eyes or speak, then whatever I am hearing is not real. Still, it's a pretty terrifying experience - lying immobilised and mute while hearing a stranger walking around my house in the middle of the night. The interesting thing is that as soon as I hear a REAL sound my body is able to fully wake up - even though my rational brain can't distinguish the real sound from the imaginary.

So I'm just pondering - wondering why these things happen after the birth of a new baby? How does my brain redirect its functions after birth to better enable me to care for Baby? And why does this make me loopy in the process?! I can only marvel at the Mind that created us this way.

Patience or Pain? (Continued)

The really difficult part of this birth for me was the waiting. Patience is not my strength, and by the end of the first 24 hours I was in tears. Anxiety and uncertainty had set in, but what could I do except... wait?

Although the pain that followed was right at the limits of my endurance, it was far easier to handle emotionally than the previous stage. This experience certainly made me much more sympathetic to those who deal with low-level chronic pain... Especially if it's enough to keep them awake at night! Just one night of mild labour pains was bad enough - I simply can't imagine enduring that kind of thing day after day AND night after night - especially without the reward of a baby at the end!

ANYway, I had all these profound thoughts to share, but now they're all gone, so I'm just going to end it there and write about something else.

Patience or Pain?

This is the story of a birth.

Baby was born last week. It started at about 6pm on Monday night. To be honest, terms like "pre-labour" and "established labour" annoy me. Contractions are contractions, and regardless of how long or how far apart they are, as far as I'm concerned, contractions mean labour, plain and simple. *Technically* what I experienced for pretty much 24 hours was not "established" labour. However, it was enough to keep me awake the entire night, and since my previous two babies were born less than twelve hours after the first contraction, that felt like a LOOOONG time!

By Tuesday afternoon I was feeling physically and emotionally drained - I just wanted it all to be over. I figured intense, unrelenting pain had to be better than the waiting. At perhaps 6.30pm I labour finally became "established" and I had a bath for a bit of relief... at this point I was getting pretty... uncomfortable. About 7pm my sister, P, arrived for her visit, which we had planned the week before. Soon after that, the Raamonster and I headed out to the room in our garage, already set up with a mattress covered with a tarp and old sheets, ready to receive Baby in style. Meanwhile P kept our girlies occupied jumping on the trampoline. Soon after that my waters broke and contractions were really coming thick and fast. It was about at that point that I started to feel like I just couldn't cope and the screaming began! It felt like forever, but only a short time later, Baby's head was out, shortly followed by her body. What had taken so long in coming was finally over at 7.50pm on Tuesday night.

Raamonster went and got the girls who came to greet their new baby sister who was still wet and sticky. A little later I carried her over to the bed for a cuddle and to wait for the placenta to emerge. It wasn't really a comfortable position and the placenta wasn't as quick in coming out as with my others, so I decided to come inside and take a bath (and clean off baby who was now covered in poo!). It was just before I got into the bath that the placenta pretty much fell out (expertly caught by Raamonster - baby was still attached to the cord!), so we recruited P to cut the cord. P and I were both feeling light-headed at this point, but thankfully she managed to cut the cord *before* she fainted! ... and thankfully I didn't faint at all, since I was holding Baby! Then once Baby and I were cleaned up and dressed we all went to bed. To be continued...

Learning to Read At Joyful Mornings (Part 1)

I thought it would be nice to have a bit of change of pace in this blog once in a while - a departure from the deadly serious to focus on the practical day-to-day of our lives once in a while.

I'm now well into the process of teaching a second child (Angelina) to read, so I thought I might outline some of our methods and share some of the resources I've created so that others don't have to completely reinvent the wheel.

With all the reading resources out there I suppose it seems strange that I've chosen to kind of create my own program, but it's not just because I'm a sucker for punishment. When I was first looking at teaching Miss Curie to read I faced a few dilemmas.

1)Most of what was available at our local library was based on a whole-language or look and say approach. While these methods definitely have their place in some situations, my personal opinion is that these are the exception, not the rule. I might keep some of my thoughts about the different learning to read methods for another post. Suffice it to say, based on my teaching/tutoring experience and anecdotal evidence of friends and family, I decided that phonics would be the best starting point for teaching our girls to read.

2)The few phonics books available at our library or some of the cheaper reading programs I could find to buy didn't allow for much practice of particular sounds or rules. I was looking for something that would start with just a few sounds and gradually build up Miss Curie's "repertoire" of sounds, while still giving her the chance to experience reading for herself, rather than just identifying the beginning or ending sounds of words (although that was where we started more informally)

3)I wanted a way to teach Miss Curie to JUST look at the words, not depend on the pictures or memory to "read" without really reading. Given her personality, I was pretty sure that if I let her get into haphazard methods of "reading" without really understanding how words and sounds are put together, then it would be very hard for her to progress later on. Since verbal language is one of Miss Curie's strengths (and even more so for Angelina), she would memorize most of a book after hearing it just once, so I couldn't use books that we had already read to her to teach her to read.

4)I wanted to start really small, but for Miss Curie to feel that she had really achieved something in our reading "sessions".

All these factors led me to writing super-short stories for her to "illustrate" herself. In each of these I tried to focus on very few sounds and the only "sight" word was "the".

Here are a few examples of our first stories:

The cat is fat.
The cat sat on the hat.
The hat is flat.
The cat is sad.

The pig is big.
The pig can dig.

As I come across others I'll gradually add them to this blog for my own records. Anyone reading this is welcome to use and share these as well (although it's not that hard to make up your own stuff anyway!). Anything that I share here is to be shared free of charge though, not to be resold in any form (not that I can imagine producing anything worth paying for - as I say, it's not that hard to make up your own basic stories with a few simple words!)

Just a final note on b,d,p and q... I've been pretty quick to correct our girls when they get these confused without making a big deal about it. When I was a kid, I used to get them confused and write in mirror writing (seems to be slightly more common with us "lefties"), but I just grew out of it. Miss Curie occasionally gets numbers backwards still, but is fine with letters, so my feeling is that until age six or seven getting the orientation of letters confused is not a big deal and most kids will grow out of it. However, I'm NOT an expert, so if there is any doubt I definitely recommend talking to someone who is!

A Blatant Regard For Others

A couple of days ago I dropped off Miss Curie for an afternoon activity. It was a pretty warm afternoon and I backed into the car park so I could get home quickly and get dinner organised as soon as Miss Curie was "signed in". I came back out to my car just a few minutes later to find another car parked directly in front of mine, completely blocking my exit. This was in an otherwise almost-empty car park.

This wasn't really a big deal. It wasn't very long before the driver of the other car came back out and drove away. My life went on pretty much as usual. However, even a few minutes delay was inconvenient. Hanging around in a car park with two small and grumpy children is no fun. I was in a quandary - should I just wait, or should I try to track down the owner of the car in case they were more than a few minutes? And I'll admit, I was more than a little peeved that in a car park with loads of other spaces close to the building, someone had had the blatant disregard for my needs to park their car in a way that totally blocked me in.

Such situations tend to get me pondering, and what came of my pondering was this. The Christian calling is about a lot more than NOT having a blatant disregard for others. It is very easy for me to feel superior to that sweet-looking older lady who drove away a few minutes later, just because I've never blocked someone else in like that (and who knows, she may, in fact, have had a really good reason). However, I have no business feeling one tiny bit superior, because I am still being passive. My first consideration in making decisions is what is best for me. I invariably choose the "path of least resistance" unless it is clearly morally wrong. This doesn't make me good, just lazy.

What if I rose to a higher standard? What if I started making decisions with a blatant regard for others? When I really meditate on the life of Christ, I'm overwhelmed by a sense of His perfection. He did so much more than JUST not do wrong - He did everything absolutely right. He always chose the "best for others" option, not the "best for me while not hurting anyone else option".

So anyway, that's what I'm working on - having a blatant regard for others. Someone let me know when I'm perfect!

Sacrifice ... or Selfishness?

I often hear and read about parenting, and motherhood in particular, being the most challenging and demanding job in the universe. I also often hear about the sacrifices inherent in being a mother. Recently, I've found myself questioning how much I truly sacrifice for my family.

My basic human nature didn't suddenly evaporate in the first moment of conception, nor did I leave my fundamental selfishness behind in the labour ward when I brought Miss Curie home. Since being married, I have often believed that I was sacrificing my needs or desires for the sake of others. If I'm honest though, marriage and motherhood didn't automatically exterminate my ego. Instead, as my happiness and comfort became more entwined with the happiness and comfort of other human beings, I learned to compromise some of my desires to achieve the most favourable outcome for ... you guessed it! ... myself. It's a sad truth, but it's the honest truth, as I've been coming to see over the last few months.

Most of us like to believe that we are constantly making sacrifices for the well-being of others. Especially as parents and husbands and wives we may mentally rehearse all the things we have given up for the sake of our families. I find in my own life that, more often than not, the sacrifices are actually a trade-off. I've learned to accept that life won't be exactly as I would like, but if I look after my kids and husband then they're more likely to do what I want. I don't find it particularly enjoyable to realise that too often the goal of my living has been to bring up a husband and children that will keep me happy and comfortable.

For example, I'd like Raamonster to eat and live healthy so he has the physical and emotional energy to be a good husband to me. I feed my kids good food so I don't have to get up through the night to sick children. The ultimate results for them will probably be good, but the reality of my motivation is still downright ugly. And I could come up with plenty more examples of how my input into the family unit is ultimately self-motivated, not other-centred. I could, but it's just too embarrassing to list them all here!!!

So I'm working on ditching my traditional martyr mentality and actually investing in truly selfless sacrifice. The change of mindset is sure to be a lifelong process!

Every Little Bit (To All My Sisters Everywhere)

In a few weeks, I'm looking forward to being reunited with sisters (and brothers) from around the world. Some are sisters by blood, some by marriage, all are my sisters in the spirit. Some I see every week, but many I haven't seen in a year or two. However, I think of these sisters often. None of my sisters is likely to make it into a list of the world's most influential people - they're not likely to find themselves on a magazine cover for their incredible accomplishments, but they are still the people I truly admire.

Some of us have the close bonds of shared experience - for some it is chronic illness, for others marriage challenges, yet others share the experience of staring into the abyss of mental breakdown. But even for those who haven't (yet) faced these "big" things, we all share the experience of the daily grind. I believe we have all known at times (unless we are truly living in fantasy land) the discouragement of (many) failure(s), the sense of inadequacy to simply live our day-to-day lives. I think every one of us has been overwhelmed at times by the unbending years that stretch both before and behind us, burdened by a feeling of chronic underachievement.

We live in a world that admires only big things and flamboyant achievements. Most of my sisters won't do anything spectacular in their lives. No solo trips around the world, no raising fourteen children single-handed, no raising hundreds of thousands of dollars for charity. Next to the people who do these big things we often feel so very small and weak. In the end though, it's not the moments of greatness that count, but every little bit.

The people I truly admire and look up to are my ordinary sisters. You know the ones, the people who just quietly get on with their lives - you're probably one of them. We have to fight against the world every step of the way. The world that tells us that we have to be something extraordinary if we are to be anything at all. So often we can feel discouraged as days melt into weeks, and months and years with little more to show on the outside than all the signs of our battle fatigue - wrinkles and love handles and sagging bits. But what's on the inside? What really counts is every little step we take forward. We're not called to account for where we started on our life's journey, or for where we finished according to the worlds' standards. The true measure of our success is every little bit.

Perhaps you're wondering what on earth I'm talking about. I mean every smile that wanted to be a frown, every hug that wanted to be a slap across the face, every tear we cry for someone else, every gift that we wanted to keep for ourselves, every moment of time given away instead of hoarded for "me" time (yes, I know we all need time to recharge alone, but we also learn that some days the time we have to give someone else is more important than time for ourselves) - all these small victories in the battle against ourselves accumulate over time to create true greatness. The measure of our success is not how we compare to other people - it is how we compare to ourselves yesterday, two weeks ago, three months ago, five years ago...

Reality teaches us that we will fail, we will be inadequate, we will get discouraged and downtrodden. There will be days when we go backwards, but as long as the sum of our journey is moving forwards, that's what counts. Every little bit. Every moment that we admit that we were wrong is a step forward. Every time we bite our tongue instead of chewing off someone's ear is a step forward. Every time we hold our ground with those stubborn little people in our lives is a step forward. Truly, these little things are not so little. The struggle to overcome self in a world that promotes "number one" is not to be underestimated. Yet, we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.

So, my dear sisters (oh, all right! and brothers, too) everywhere, by all means be ready to acknowledge the dark and ugly parts of yourself, and be ready to admit when you are wrong, but when you feel discouraged - when you feel like you're stuck, just remember, moments of outward greatness are insignificant compared to every little bit of your life.

Grace Is Not A Rubbish Bin

I often hear Christians talk about grace. Sadly, there are times when it seems to be brought up as a justification for doing the wrong thing. While grace does cover our sins, I think we Christians must take care not to use grace as an excuse for all our downfalls or a license to carry on our lives, unchanging.

Grace is not a rubbish bin for us to put in a corner and throw all of our spiritual garbage into. Nor is it a magic lamp that will exempt us from the consequences of our mistakes. Grace is a beautiful gift from the Creator Himself which deserves a place of honour in our homes. It is not the "too-hard-basket" where we put all the things that need to change, but require a lot of hard work. Rather, the magnitude and preciousness of this gift should drive us to grow spiritually far beyond what we would be humanly capable of.

Too often, by our words or actions, we can find ourselves treating Christ's perfect and immeasurable sacrifice with contempt. Grace deserves a place on the mantelpiece, not under the kitchen sink.

Comparison Paralysis

One day, I hope I will get through an entire day without concerning myself about how other people are living their lives. I think the temptation to compare ourselves with others leaks into every aspect of our lives if we are honest with ourselves.

It can seem harmless enough - looking for a benchmark to measure our own or our children's progress. The reality, though, is that comparisons are paralysing.

If I decide that - despite all my shortcomings - I am feeding my children better than Betty, teaching my children better than Sally, disciplining my children better than Mary, and having more fun with my children than Lucy (you may imagine that Lucy is not much fun to be around at all!) - then I give myself a big old pat on the back and don't look at where I can and should change. I become paralysed by self-congratulation.

On the other hand, if all I can see is that Betty is teaching her children three languages; Mary has never let any artificial ingredient pass the lips of her five little treasures, ever; Sally sings songs and plays games with her children every day; and Lucy has certainly never let her children whine or scream - then I become paralysed by a sense of hopelessness because I can't hope to live up to those kinds of standards.

Most of us want to do the best we can with what we have, whether we have children or not. While we can learn and discern - learn from the successes and failures of those around us, and discern that certain practices are not right or wise - it is destructive to "compare ourselves among ourselves".

The measure of success is not where we are, but where we're going. Comparison paralysis is one of the most effective ways to stop us dead in our tracks - either through self-satisfaction or discouragement. Either because we see where we are right now as perfectly adequate (because others are so far behind us that we must be doing well), or because our destination seems unattainable (because others are so far ahead of us that we couldn't possibly catch up).

We can only live the life that we have been given. If we're busy watching where other people are going, we're sure to stumble or come to a complete stop. Looking out for the mistakes or successes of those around us simply blinds us to our own faults. My goal, when my stupid mind starts critiquing others, is to turn that critique inwards and ask myself - what insecurities and sins am I trying to hide in myself? If someone else's parenting style upsets me, it's a very loud alarm bell that I need to start paying a lot more attention to my personal inconsistencies. On the other hand, if I get totally discouraged because someone else seems to have it all together, then I need to examine whether my priorities are in keeping with my circumstances (teaching three languages is not in keeping with my present circumstances, but I certainly congratulate anyone out there who is teaching their kids three languages!). I also need to examine how much my priorities are being driven by concern about my image.

I truly believe that feeling self-satisfied and feeling inadequate are both forms of pride. Self-satisfaction reflects pride in doing better than someone else; a sense of inadequacy reflects the wounded pride of not living up to the standard we feel we should be able to achieve (go ahead, disagree with me!).

It's only natural as human beings that we will feel self-satisfied at times, and inadequate at other times. True satisfaction comes from knowing that we are working with what God gives us to grow; a sense of inadequacy can spur us on to work harder, reach higher, and depend on God to fill in the many gaps.

Instead of looking at the lives of others as a benchmark for my own success, I am trying to admire the admirable, and encourage and facilitate the growth of others by the way I live (easier said than done!!) and relate to my fellow human beings. Life isn't a race to the finish with one winner and a whole bunch of losers. The destination itself is the goal, not being the first or the best person to get there. If we let comparison paralysis take over, we won't get there at all, but if we focus on that end goal and a desire for everyone to reach it, we might even find ourselves helping others to get there as well.

In Sickness And In Health

Recently, while I was browsing through some old photos, I came across some of Angelina that made me cry. They weren't cute or endearing, they were downright painful to see. These were photos of her eczema that I had sent to a friend in the hope that this friend might be able to suggest something we could do for her.

Seeing those photos again was both shocking and encouraging. Shocking because it hit me for the first time just how much our little girl suffered for months on end. Encouraging because I am SOOOO thankful that we are not in that place any more. Now, the eczema covers perhaps 5% of her body, then it was more like 90%.

Anyone who has never had an itchy rash simply can't imagine what it's like. If you haven't experienced it, you can't possibly fathom the agony of itching so intense that you are willing to take almost any pain just to have a few moment's relief from that itch.

Likewise I can't imagine what it is like to have a child with some other chronic illness. Although it would be foolish for me to think that I understand what it would be like to have a child with cancer or Downs syndrome or diabetes, or any number of other conditions, I believe that there is some common ground when you have suffered through broken nights and agonising days with a child limited by pain or disability. I believe that there are lessons we can learn together for the sake of our beloved children.

When we experience (as so many of us do in one way or another) being unable to offer our child relief from their grief or pain or frustration, we naturally want to protect them from any other pain or suffering. We want to wrap them up in every possible comfort to compensate for our powerlessness. We want to shelter them from every external frustration and inconvenience to make up for the fact that there is NOTHING we can do to stop or control that inner pain. Those who have been there will understand exactly what I mean when I say that that NOTHING, that complete and utter helplessness, can become the prison of a parent's worst nightmares.

However, in those days of darkness, I truly believe that in order to become our children's allies and not their enemies we must not protect and shelter them as we so desperately desire. OF COURSE we should always offer the comfort and shelter or our unconditional love, but that same love must still teach them the immovable and unchanging standards of right and wrong.

When a suffering child lashes out physically or verbally at others, our temptation as parents is to make an exception to our own standards - "Michael was just frustrated because no one could understand him, that's why he punched his little sister in the face"; "Annabelle is in a lot of pain, I can't blame her for cursing the nurse who was taking her blood"; "People call Jennifer an idiot all the time, so it's fair enough for her to call her teacher an idiot". I am NOT suggesting that we shouldn't allow our children to express their pain, but if we allow them to express pain in a way that is deliberately and consciously hurtful to others, we are robbing them of a tremendous gift.

"What is she on about?" I can hear you ask! Only this: in hindsight, I can see that the experience of suffering has left our Angelina with a legacy of empathy, hope and patience. Don't get me wrong, we are FAR from the perfect parents, and Angelina is by no means the model child. We DID make too many allowances for her in our moments of weakness. However, our overall goal was to teach her to manage, and grow from, her pain and frustration. While we would be deceiving ourselves to claim 100% success, I can see that these experiences have left a positive mark on her character. We can see now that Angelina doesn't give up straight away when a task gets too hard - some of this is personality, of course - but I think her experience of pushing through pain in the real world (not in a parentally created padded cell) contributed to her spirit of endurance now.

I'd just like to encourage all the parents out there to keep the end goal in mind when your children are in distress. While we don't want our children to suffer unreasonable pain, I think it's worth pausing for a moment before we reach for the panadol or ice cream or remote control - a few of the quick ways of easing our child's suffering or distracting them from sadness, anger or frustration. When we instantly remove mild pain or distract them from minor emotional distress we may be robbing our children of the gift of resilience. Our goal for our children is surely that they find true joy and satisfaction in life, even during unfavourable or downright horrible circumstances that are completely out of their control. We want to encourage that strength of character only born through suffering - the strength of character that will enable them to stand up for truth and right, even when the consequences may be pain or even death. I would rather teach my children to die for what is right than to simply survive at all costs.

If we teach our children, by simply rescuing them from all suffering, that happiness and joy come from the outside, we leave them utterly helpless against the future storms that will rage against them in this increasingly toxic world. On the other hand, if we teach our children to face suffering with courage, dignity and hope, we equip them to be a shining light in the darkness of an increasingly immoral world. We help them build the inner strength that allows them to live this temporary life with integrity, looking forward to an unimaginably beautiful eternal future reality.

Allowing our children to suffer is an incredibly difficult and often discouraging road to walk, but our pledge to our children should be as it is to our husbands and wives - to give them our best in sickness and in health, until death us do part. Whatever your personal journey, I pray that God be with you.

I'd Like To Clarify

I should have written this a few days ago, but here I am at last. I'd just like to clarify that in my post "Why I Don't Join" I mentioned at the end the need to avoid hypocrisy. Occasionally I re-read the stuff I've written, and I've realised that this may seem to be accusing OTHERS of hypocrisy. I'd like to restate that I must not to use my personal convictions as an excuse to live a passive and unchanging life. I'm not leveling criticism at anyone else, but making an observation on my own weakness. I truly apologise if I've caused any offense.

At Arm's Length

Is it just me? I've been noticing recently that I tend to keep relationships at arm's length. Do you know what I mean? Conversations are kept at a chit-chat level. It seems like there's this wall of unspoken pain dividing me from the people I talk to. You know the tension you sense sometimes when you ask someone how they are? They give a noncommittal non-answer and you know that all is not well, but feel that they really don't want you to dig any deeper. They're keeping you at arm's length.

Why? Why do we do this to ourselves and each other? Or is it just me? I don't think it's healthy and I don't think it's what anyone really wants. I think maybe there's a connection between getting so busy with the stuff of life that we lose touch with the people of life.

Do we think that others won't understand if we tell them what's going on in our heads? Are we afraid of admitting that our lives aren't perfect? Are we afraid of burdening others? Ironically, I find myself whinging about trivial things, while the big challenges of life remain an unspoken burden.

I don't have answers today, just lots of questions. Is it just me?

Why I Don't Join

A few times recently I've been asked to give my support in various ways to various "causes". My answer is always "no". I don't do rallies or petitions or donate to medical research or sell raffle tickets. That's right, I'm a mean, mean, nasty, horrible person.

Seriously, there is a reason I don't participate in any of these ventures. In most cases, their aims are good. I do believe that homebirthing should have an equal if not higher status than medicalised birth, but I haven't taken part in any rallies. I have a number of dear friends with MS who I would love to see healed, but I don't sell raffle tickets for the MS foundation (is that what they're called?). I also believe in many ideals that have no causes (that I know of) supporting them. I am against child abuse and neglect, but no one has ever asked me to donate to the child neglect foundation. Even if they did, though, I would say no.

I do believe that if anyone comes to me in need I should give as I am able. Food to the hungry, shelter to the homeless, etc. What I don't believe in is the politicization of these causes. As far as campaigning the government to change this or that legislation - where should I start? Sorry, but not home-birthing, as wonderful as it is. There are so many more serious and far-reaching cases of downright immorality in legislation.

The reality is, that while there are a handful of organizations I am willing to support, there are many, many more that in some way undermine the foundations of my beliefs.

For example, I worked in medical research for a year before my conscience got the better of me. I have seen how the world of medical research works, not just from my personal experiences, but in discussions with friends who are still heavily involved in medical research. Even those with the best intentions can't escape the premises and philosophies that underlie the whole system of research. Premises and philosophies that fundamentally deny God and His part in human well-being. It would be wrong for me to support a system that denies God.

As for signing petitions, or rallying, or campaigning - I live in a society that once again denies God's part in the very fabric of society. Any argument I have against laws or systems is based on the foundation of God's laws and principles. These arguments fall on deaf ears in a secular world. Nor can I put my name on a petition with those who believe that social justice simply needs a human solution. I don't believe that even a billion signatures could bring peace to the Middle East, or food to the starving, or protect orphans from exploitation. Putting my name on that list implies not only that I care about the cause, but that I believe my name can make the difference. I don't believe that my name can make the difference. I believe that we live in a broken world that only God can fix.

This is not an excuse for me to sit back and watch the world fall apart from my armchair. It is not a call to less but a call to more. Knowing that my human hands cannot make a drop-in-the-bucket difference, I have the greater responsibility of representing God's way of life to everyone I interact with. I have the responsibility to find ways that I can support the needy without compromising God's values. Importantly, I must guard every aspect of my own life from the lure of hypocrisy. My time as a human being is merely the journey, not the destination, so there will be wrong turns along the way, and I won't perfectly represent the one cause that I do stand for - the coming kingdom of God.

So that summarizes why I don't join - I have joined The Cause, and beside it, there is no other.

Decluttering

OK, so this is the time of year for deep contemplation for me. (The rest of the year I don't do much thinking at all!) I have a compulsive tendency to declutter our house on a regular basis. But right now it's time to declutter my life.

I've been spurred on by what may seem an unrelated experience. Library story time. It's been a couple of years now since I attended library story time since Miss Curie has really outgrown it and - well, there are so many other things to do during the week. I was shocked at the chaos that greeted us at the library. Almost all the people there - adults and children alike - were carrying on conversations as if there wasn't a poor young lady trying to read to an undisciplined group of children. Kids were wandering around, fighting unchecked and apparently unnoticed. When I asked the librarian about it later she said that this is what it's like every week now.

So what on earth does this have to do with mental decluttering? It really drove home to me how socially acceptable it is becoming to look out for number one. It really drove home to me how rapidly our level of concern for our fellow human beings is degenerating. It really drove home to me again how disconnected we are becoming from one another.

It got me thinking about how I spend my time each day, and really intensified my urgency to focus on character in my girls. I spend way too much time and energy on selfish pursuits. If I let myself continue on that path the outlook for my girls is grim. If they don't see me sacrificing my wants for the greater good, they're not likely to go out looking to learn it elsewhere.

The pressure as mothers is to give our children "the best". (OK, I know I'm repeating myself, but repetition IS a great form of emphasis.) What we get duped into thinking is that a never-ending whirl of extra-curricular activities is what is "best". We start to truly believe that the important thing for our childrens' futures is to achieve a particular academic level (preferably well above the average for their age) along with a mile-long list of skills ranging from tying shoelaces to speaking several languages fluently. I've jumped on that bandwagon many times. There are many things I passionately want to teach my children. Of itself I don't think this is a bad thing, butI can see I've just got to keep a steady focus on what will see them through any coming storm. The extra-curricular activities truly are extras that need to fit in around the business of real living.

The most important thing is to ground my girls firmly in faith, hope and love. These are not sideshows - every activity, however exciting or mundane - needs to revolve around these principles.

So what does it look like to focus on character? For me, it means slowing down and paying attention. It means not ignoring one sister hitting the other on the head in frustration. It means not pretending not to see when The Chatterbox defies orders and pops out of bed for a play. It means not being too busy to answer questions about why we have standards for how we treat others. It means not being too tired to guide a reluctant child through writing a letter to someone who needs encouragement. It means not squashing the creative spirit of Miss Curie because it's just too much hard work to guide her ideas towards something productive.

I get tired just thinking about it. That's where I need to give up some of the things that I like to do in order to stay committed to my number one responsibility. Some of the sewing projects may gather dust on my desk for years to come. I may never find the time to buy a perfect matching set of glasses to replace the many that have broken in the last eight years. I might not get all my garlic planted before May. Trivial things, but hard to give up because I'm selfish. If I remember where we're headed and Who we're trying to honour it doesn't get easy, but it does get worth it. Dresses and glasses and gardens will all pass in time. Character lasts. Too often in the battle for our attention the trivialities win. Today, in this house, character wins. The challenge is to make sure it wins every day.

Reconnecting With Reality

Reality. Usually when someone loses touch with reality it's because they're getting in touch with a fantasy that seems a lot more enticing than real life. We live in a world that sends us thousands of invitations to disconnect from unpleasant realities.

I have a habit of disconnecting. Usually I detach myself from my present life because I'm trying to make it better. Looking for ways to buy stuff online so I don't have to venture into real shops with my three very real children who like to touch and try and taste all the real stuff on the real shelves. Searching for other homeschoolers close to me so I don't have to travel so far to social events. Looking for new craft and sewing ideas. Looking for the perfect curriculum so I can spend less time planning and thinking and more time doing with the girls. The theoretical goal is to have more time and energy to invest in relationships.

The thing is, real relationships happen in the real world and disconnecting from the people I love doesn't exactly foster those relationships. The natural drive for many human beings is to make things better. That is good. As long as we choose the right kind of better. So often I don't. The perfect curriculum is an utter failure if the search for it robs my children of our relationship. The perfect educational opportunity is worse than lost if by the time it eventuates my girls are traumatized by Mummy's traffic temper. The end doesn't justify the means if the means destroys the end.

The right kind of better is better understanding of each other. Better focus on the needs of others. Better ways of investing energy into the character development of my children. By the way, right now one is asleep and the other two are out at Bunnings with Daddy, so I'm not detaching myself from my family to write this!

If I'm honest with myself, I'm trying to fill myself up with my searches for better things and better ways to do things. I'm trying to fill up a great, gaping, bottomless hole with more emptiness. There's nothing wrong with shopping online or looking for people of like mind or admiring other people's handiwork or looking for better ways of teaching - not of and by themselves. There is something seriously wrong with unconsciously looking to those things for a sense of fullfillment.

So... it's time for me to reconnect with reality. Time to get back into the mucky world of actual human interaction. Time to invest myself in the relationships that won't disappear when the power fails.

Rise Up In Submission!

Submission is usually viewed as a dirty word these days. It smacks of out-of-date values and patriarchal oppression. What could possibly be good about submission?

This isn't entirely about submission, but the negative emotions that tend to be attached to 'submission' are representative of a troubling trend. See, I've noticed something about my generation of women. It may be true of the men too, but since I have the most to do with other mothers, that's who I'd like to write about. We don't like to take advice. More specifically, we don't like to take advice from those who out-of-date values would urge us to call our 'elders and betters'.

We don't mind our friends reassuring us that we're doing fine, but when someone older suggests that there might be a better way to parent, we muse that they can't possibly remember what it's like; or we shrug off their comments as old-fashioned, misguided or downright wrong. What makes me think that my six years of parenting three children is superior to twenty years raising five or six? Certainly it's not a good idea to listen to everyone with an opinion - we'd spend our whole lives going round in circles. However, I think we need to carefully examine what makes us reject what our 'elders and betters' have to say.

Having come out of a medical research background, the latest research is not a good enough reason to close our minds to different ideas. Researchers are still human, they have unavoidable biases - ALL of them - and at any given time most researchers are really only looking at one variable. At one time, the latest research showed that soft drinks caused polio. Later on, another scientist found that polio and soft drink consumption were two unrelated effects of the same cause - warm weather. So how do we choose who to listen to?

The book of Proverbs tells us that there is a way that seems right to a man, but the end of it is death. I fear we are all too ready to follow the trends of what seems right today, instead of going to the source of Truth to find out what is right today, tomorrow, and ever more. Instead of simply embracing parenting styles that seem right, we need to ask ourselves honestly if they are in keeping with Biblical principles. And before we object to the parenting styles of the past that don't seem right we need to be ready to consider that they may also be in keeping with Biblical principles.

Finally, I think we young mothers need to be ready to accept that we don't already have all the answers and be willing to listen to someone older and wiser than ourselves on the off chance that they might actually teach us something. Submission isn't voluntary slavery, it's the freedom to let others have the right answers once in a while. There are many other contexts for submission that I'm not even going to touch right now, but I think it's worth starting a revolution. Let's rise up against the trend of knowing it all, and submit ourselves to the possibility of being wrong once in a while. Let's rise up in submission.

Pausing to Reflect

It's hard to believe that it was less than two weeks ago that life changed dramatically for thousands of Victorians. The tragedy of the loss has been on my mind ever since. My heart goes out to those who suffered - I can't even begin to imagine the depths of their grief, so I won't pretend I can.

There is so much that I want to say about what happened and why, but I feel it is not my place and not appropriate at this time. My hope is that people will pause and reflect on life and on our society and turn those reflections inward. It would be very easy to get angry and blame Them, but I believe every Victorian (including myself) should take this opportunity to carefully consider their personal responsibility.

My prayers are with those who are suffering.

Another Secret of Time

We've been going to the pool a little more often now that it's been HOT. I've been amazed to see Miss Curie and Angelina are learning to swim after just five lessons at $2 each a year ago, and one free lesson this year. And even Chatterbox is blowing bubbles.

Do I have brilliantly talented children? No, not really. (Of course, I think they're brilliant because I'm their Mum, but if I'm being objective about it they're not overly sporty.) Have I been teaching them to swim myself? Well, not exactly.

And here we have the second Secret of Time that I'm discovering (only I guess it's not a secret now that I'm telling you). I'm sure many other experienced parents already know it well. If I'd spent bucketloads of money on swimming lessons the girls would probably be a bit better at swimming, but my time just being in the pool with them (and not a lot of time, at that) has achieved almost as much as several hundred dollars.

Now, my point is not to say that swimming lessons are a waste, and this is really not about money either. The great revelation to me has been just how much my time can teach my children. I have occasionally shown the girls how to blow bubbles or given Chatterbox a dunking, and the Raamonster has been involved with giving them rides on his back and getting them to jump to him. Beyond that, we really haven't set out to teach the girls to swim. It seems that just being there, in the water - talking, playing, and admiring their little achievements - was enough.

I don't like the term "quality time" because it usually implies that a little bit of time doing something big is what children need. I think that the evidence of many divided families shows that more time doing little things is more valuable in the long run. I will qualify that, though. In my experience, my time with the girls does'n't "count" for anything if I'm not mentally and emotionally present. Chatterbox doesn't get her "fix" from sitting on my lap while I'm surfing the net. Likewise with the Raamonster.

Well, I could blather on for ages, but my delightful little Angelina is reading a story (she's just learning to read), so I'd better practise what I'm preaching and give her some time!

Life in the Trenches

Let's face it, for many of us Mums (the ones I talk to, anyway - I am yet to meet a Supermum, possibly because she's too busy being perfect to fit in a social life) life can seem like a war zone. It seems pretty often when we get together we have something to vent about.

I'm taking the time writing this to remind myself who the enemy is. Many of us are full of pent-up frustrations. We have the wonderful moments with our children, but I don't know anyone who doesn't have days when they enjoy their kids just that little bit more when they're asleep. To admit this out loud (or in writing) seems shocking. These bundles of joy are flesh of our flesh and bone of our bones, how is it that the very sight of them doesn't fill us with wonder and joy, even when they are that wee bit challenging? How is it that, in fact, our baser instincts drive us to practically explode with rage over the dirty laundry on the floor, or the third glass of milk spilt in the course of ten minutes, or the clothing shoved hastily in the drawer instead of properly folded?

WHO is the enemy? We have raised these children from helpless infants. We are working to build their character. They are our equals in awesome potential. They are our equals in human value. We are nourishing and nurturing them in the hope and belief that they can become something great if they choose Right. Why is this incredible responsibility and opportunity such a dreary grind sometimes?

WHO IS the enemy? Many of us actively chose to be parents (I think at least some of this applies to Dads as well, even though I don't happen to be one myself). The birth of each child was often anticipated with excitement. Many of us pored over pregnancy books studying each stage of development, mentally measuring our unborn child each week. We planned all the awful things we would NEVER do as parents, and all the wonderful things we WOULD do. What happened to that dream? Is it gone? Are we simply reduced to surviving day by day, gritting our teeth and waiting for the day our Little Treasures walk out the door so we can cuddle up to photo albums and relive the beautiful moments we didn't have time to live the first time round?

My mistake so often is to think that my children are the enemy. I don't say it to myself, and it's horrible to admit, but if I truthfully examine our bad days, by my actions, I am treating my children as the enemy.

I think there are many enemies in the war zone of our lives. Some people, I'm sure, would argue that life isn't a war zone at all. They have a few minor skirmishes, but overall enjoy peace. I'm not satisfied with that. As long as there are people starving, or being sold into slavery, or in pain, or aching from loneliness or broken relationships - as long as there is any suffering - I am at war. I am at war against all the forces to make me part of what this world is. There are only two choices - to be part of what the world is, or to be part of what it is going to become.

There are many enemies, but who is THE Enemy? The enemy is one who was once called a Light-bringer and I now know by the name of Satan. Since most people don't believe he really exists, he is a very effective enemy, especially against the family. He wants us to direct our attacks at each other and if we don't believe he is there, that is just what we will do.

It may seem like I'm writing out of discouragement, or even despair, but I'm not. I write with hope and conviction. My Ally is much more powerful than my enemy. If I depend on God and maintain the vision and dream of where our family is headed, then nothing can stop me. It is when I lose that vision, when it is blurred by battle fatigue, that I forget the real enemy.

Having a vision beyond ballet and soccer and spelling and maths and dirty laundry and dirty dishes doesn't mean that life is going to get easy. It just gives us the courage to keep pushing through because there is a much bigger and better purpose than our children becoming aeronautical engineers. And that vision is for our children as well. KNOWING that there is something beyond teething and teen angst will help get them through OUR bad attitudes and obnoxious behaviour.

I look forward to letting my children know day by day that we're on the same side and marching with them towards a future that is brighter than any of us can begin to imagine.

PS The BEST thing about this vision is the absolute assurance that it is ultimately available for everyone, even those who die convinced that the bible is no more than a great work of historical fiction.

Guilt and Getting Over Ourselves

I have a confession to make - I don't read Chatterbox three books a day. Some days I don't even read her one! Shhh - don't tell Mem Fox, will you?

This post has been rolling around in my head for ages. I forgot to put the bread in the oven earlier, so now, while I'm up waiting for the bread to cook, I figured I might as well spit it out.

Mem Fox is not the only person out there with great ideas about Stuff You Should Do With Your Kids. And don't get me wrong, I'm all for reading to children. I'm also all for singing to them, and teaching them a language, and getting them out in the garden, and taking them for walks, and cooking with them, and teaching them table manners, and early potty training (or, even better, elimination communication), and extended breast-feeding, and large families, and praying together, and eating meals together, and teaching them to work, and teaching them to manage money from a young age, and teaching them to swim, and getting them involved in team sports, and in serving the community as a family... Need I go on? Do you start to see where I'm going with this?

I have days when I get really weighed down with guilt over all the worthwhile things that I'm not doing with my kids on a regular basis. Let me examine what that guilt is really about. Do I believe that early potty training will have a long-lasting benefit on my child's character and emotional well-being? No. Do I believe that stopping breast-feeding two weeks before Chatterbox turned two is going to substantially limit her potential? No. Do I believe that my children will all drown in the bathtub if they don't learn to swim by the age of eight? No. Do I believe that my children will grow up unable to interact with others if they are not involved in team sports and community service right now? No. If I analyse all those points above, I find the answers are much the same.

So why do I feel guilty? Oh, hang on, it's not really guilt at all, is it? I'm worried about my IMAGE. I want my kids to make ME look good to others! Someone out there is going to think that I've failed because I gave up breastfeeding Miss Curie when she was only thirteen months old. Someone out there will think I'm totally slack for bumming around at home instead of taking the kids swimming. Someone out there will be disgusted that Angelina can't catch a ball. Someone out there will think that I'm doing something really wrong when Chatterbox chucks a wobbly in the supermarket.

WOAH! Back up there! Doesn't it mean my discipline is failing if my kids misbehave? Not necessarily - it means they're human and sometimes think "I want that shiny stuff and I'm gonna get it, and hang the consequences". More or less.

Side note here - I am NOT a perfect parent. I've got lots that needs to change. My discipline DOES often fail. But my kids' behaviour at any given moment is not a barometer of my success or failure as a parent.

I'm not writing this post because I ascribe to the "I'm OK, you're OK, we're all OK" philosophy. NO WAY! Quite the opposite, in fact. It is SO not OK for me to base my parenting decisions on how they make ME look. I need to get over myself. Whatever I do, I'm going to look bad to someone. My decisions as a parent need to be based on solid biblical principles. I need to do what's right because it's what GOD wants and what will build CHARACTER in my children, not because it will make me look good.

The bible is surprisingly devoid of statements along the lines of "thou shalt engage thy child in 4.5 hours of extracurricular activities per week" This "deficit" of specific intstructions doesn't take away from my responsibility as a parent. It adds to my responsibility. I have to make a judgement based on biblical principles as to what are the greatest needs in the lives of my children.

A couple of years ago now we started down the road of trying to track down the cause of Angelina's eczema. In retrospect I would have to say that the harder I tried to fix it, the worse it got. In retrospect, I would also have to say that my search for answers was triggered by FEAR of what other people would think of me if I did "nothing". Looking back I think some of the dietary restrictions exacerbated the problem, possibly due to - *gulp* - malnutrition. I'm not intending to launch into a medical analysis, but that experience was a disturbing example of me putting my personal image ahead of true righteousness and truly responsible parenting.

I guess I don't mind after all if you tell Mem Fox I don't read Chatterbox three books a day. I reckon she'll understand anyway, but even if she doesn't, that's not my problem. Now I'd better be a responsible parent and go to bed so I'm ready to greet Chatterbox with a smile at 6am tomorrow morning.