The Coddling Trap

I wanted to share a  little insight into the problems frequently cited in young people today — their sense of entitlement and their  emotional incontinence. A few years back I was reading a book called, The Christmas Mouse (published in 1973) by a British author who used the pen name, Miss Read. It isn’t a children’s book, it is  a charming story set in an English village with some female characters (along with some children.)

In the course of the plot, one of the female characters, recently widowed, is home alone on Christmas Eve and has a run away child break into her pantry that stormy night. The boy was a foster child from a good family she knew down the road. What struck me reading the book was the response of Mrs. Barry to the hungry, crying child eating her pies in the pantry. The boy being fostered at the farm down the road was upset, because he felt the kids of the foster family had a better set of gifts than he received, and he felt left out not having his own family, so he ran away.

Initially, I found myself thinking, Oh, poor child!  So alone and sad on Christmas Eve without his own family!  But the response of Mrs. Barry set me back very quickly. Rather than emotionally surrounding the shivering boy with a blanket of emotional comfort and understanding, she proceeded to address the core problems. The core issues were that he was A) ungrateful for the warm, safe family home where he was living B) ungrateful for the wonderful family that had taken him in and their buying him gifts he otherwise would not have had C) That he had worried this good family by running away D) That he felt he had the right to break in to her home and steal her food, because he was unhappy.

In short, she rebuked his sense of entitlement and brought him to see, eventually, his wrongheadedness on every front. She let him warm by the fire, met his needs and then called his foster family.

This is the set of values that made Britain and the US strong.  In the West, we  long ago departed from this way of handling children. We are prone to coddle kids when there are core character issues that need addressing. The results are all around us.  Didn’t get what I deserve!You have ‘privilege’ and I don’t!, You have better stuff and it’s not fair!,   I’m entitled to what you have cause I have nothing!

Christian teachings – as found in the Bible – emphasize humility, gratitude and respect for others. When a culture at large ceases to value that and it is no longer taught in homes, you get the atrocious state of things we are now witnessing. I DEMAND this !, I DESERVE WHAT YOU HAVE! , I’M A VICTIM AND YOU OWE ME!I’m UNHAPPY AND YOU NEED TO FIX IT!

No loving,  responsible parent is going to ignore the emotional needs of their children. But there is a difference between idolizing happiness, as though anything that threatens happiness is the problem – in essence, allowing for the tyranny of emotions in a child’s life –  and making sure a child is not carrying unnecessary emotional burdens  I tell this to our young daughter  when she is very unhappy and very unhappy that she is unhappy. “Your happiness is not the most important thing. Obeying and doing the right thing comes first.  Sometimes we are sad, angry, and unhappy. That’s just how life works. But how we ultimately pick ourselves up and respond to it  is what matters.” That’s what I try to get across to my children (and myself!)

Something to remember is that the ongoing mindset of victimhood wars against acknowledging the GRACE in our lives and squelches gratitude. It kills it.

The Christmas Mouse is a wonderful little book by Miss Read, but I found something deeper there worth recognizing, I think.

(There are still copies of this book in some libraries, and there are used versions of this little book available online with a simple search. Sometimes it is combined with two other Christmas stories by Miss Read, all of which are a joy to read.)

He Still Gives This Gift

In His great mercy and kindness, God led us to a church where we have been welcomed warmly and where Emily’s educational needs have been met for school.  I marvel at how God works, and often in the 11th hour!

In the physical body, long term stress can cause something called Adrenal Fatigue.   A human body, long over-taxed, simply can’t keep up with the demands  placed on it. The same, I believe, is true spiritually. You can grow ill from the demands of circumstances that dismay, disillusion, and exhaust–circumstances that never seem to end in a good outcome.

Thankfully, the Great Physician is aware of this. In His time and way, He ministers to his ill sheep. I have personally experienced this, and I want to point those who are hurting to the goodness of the LORD.

When you have been ill a long time, eating food of any kind can be a difficult thing. Doctors will have you start with the mildest and easiest of foods until you can build up your strength for more.

When spiritually ill and suffering, the same thing happens. In recent years, the heavy books that are on my shelf, the deeper devotionals, the books on theology and such went untouched. I developed almost an aversion to them, like a physically unwell person would look at a plate of steak and vegetables. This is not a time to bash yourself for your lack of spirituality or appetite for these things. Realize you have been under tremendous strain that has real consequences. Then, have faith in the One who can restore you to health.

Physically, as recovery begins, a slight appetite emerges.  Strength slowly returns. Simple food is once again attractive. The same is true in our spiritual lives.

The good news is that spiritually, as with our human bodies, the basics are still essential building blocks. We need them. God uses them to rebuild and strengthen us.

Our daughter Emily is the blessed recipient of much good basic doctrinal teaching. Sunday school at our church is not a Chuck E. Cheese-style, high octane, fun for the kiddies experience.  It ‘s purpose is to inculcate sound Scriptural knowledge. The stories from the Bible are fascinating and ever new. Each one instructs us of basic truths about God and His attributes, and also His enduring love for us.

I was moved to tears this last week as the Sunday School at our church began anew for the school year.  I picked up the paper that Emily brought home that  summed up the lesson they had been taught. She talked about the story of Solomon’s wisdom in the case of the two mothers arguing over the surviving baby,  a story that showcases the amazing wisdom of King Solomon.

The paper she brought home was so rich in teaching, I wanted to share some of the pages with you. I was making coffee this morning, and the thought hit me again forcefully. Solomon asked for wisdom and received it. God is STILL granting wisdom. His Word that doesn’t change promises that He will if we ask. (See the book of James, Chapter 1 vs. 5, Proverbs 1:6, Col. 2:3)

Whatever your perplexity or concern, we are told very clearly—If ANYONE lacks wisdom, let them ask of God, who gives to all without reproach. What a marvelous thing that is! We can have wisdom and make wise choices, because God has promised his children that gift.

I praise and thank the LORD for this truth and for His wisdom which stands in stark relief against the foolishness and despair of our times. I also praise and thank God for His provision for our needs spiritually and educationally. What a joyful thing to realize He cares for the sheep of His flock.

P.S. As a bonus, this week Emily’s school has, as hymn of the week, Take My Life and Let it Be, by Frances Ridley Havergal. Emily’s middle name, Frances, is in honor of that long ago hymn writer and poet who gave us so many hymns and devotional writings! She plans on telling the teacher this little  fact  today!  You can read about the hymn and its author here. 

 

 

Influence on Wheels

I have written before about the importance of conversations with children.  Moms or dads who do the school run each day have prime time with their kids if they recognize it.

I have been the primary school driver, and there are many great memories (and some not so great) of conversations that have taken place in my van through the years. I mention the not-so-great ones, as conversations with kids are not always all sweetness and light. The teen years come to mind. In any event, if you’re listening, you can hear what’s going on in the minds of your kids.

Emily, our youngest, begins talking before she’s even fully in the door of the car at pick up.  She is full of information about her day. She opens her lunch box to retrieve whatever leftovers she can find to assuage her after-school hunger and she then begins to update me on the state of the Third Grade.

Who played with whom at recess, what books she chose on library day, the song they are singing in music class (would you like to hear it, Mom?), those are just a few of the items she shares while munching a half eaten cookie or carrot from lunch.

But if I listen well to what she is saying, I can pick up on some important things. This morning Em shared with me that the teacher has a poster on the wall of the classroom. “It says ‘Do All Things in Love.’ And then, Mom, it listed things you can do to show love.” The teacher who placed that poster up on the bulletin board may not realize it, but  her classroom decoration had an influence on our daughter. It gave us fodder for conversation as we drove down the road on the way to school this morning.

“There was a girl that nobody was playing with,” Em announced the other day. “I went to talk to her.”  Another conversation started that reinforced the right thing that Emily did. “Someday, that might be you without anyone to play with,” I added. Em nodded. She gets it.

Our culture is tremendously noisy.  Media of all kinds can pervade our lives. I have  antipathy for radio noise running in the background in the car or at home. My mom never had radios or TV’s blaring night and day. In fact, it was rarely on at all.  I feel the same way about it. Not only does it clutter up your mind and thinking (I’m not good at shutting it out), but it robs you of conversation time with your children, particularly as you travel.

Each moment with kids is precious, because it is fleeting. I have two kids in their 30’s now, and one nearly 30! Two are already 21. Childhood is a terribly brief time. Children’s character is formed through everyday conversation where values are inculcated, and hopefully, reinforced by what they see at home. Someone is influencing your child’s character and view of the world. Is it you?

Children are hard-wired to sort out what they learn about the world from their parents. We can help them through the increasingly ugly culture they are growing up in by seizing each opportunity we are given  to underscore truth, in love, in their minds. These truths serve as an anchor for their thinking–bedrock upon which to build their lives. Two apt metaphors.

This is also a reason to seek wisdom from God – the source of ALL wisdom and truth–as we attempt to guide our children. These times are perplexing and treacherous. Lives can be so easily shipwrecked with the lying siren song of the world playing in our children’s ears, forever drawing them to the dangerous rocks.

It’s our job as Christian parents to continually point to the beacon of light that will guide our children through this life. God’s Word is the piercing beam of light that will warn of the jagged rocks that endanger them. It cuts through the fog and darkness like a laser.  “Danger here! Watch out! Go this way instead!”

With a new school year upon us, I intend to make the most of our travel chats. Whether listening or speaking, it’s a daily opportunity not to be missed!

 

 

Sound Track of Love

I was walking around the house this morning warbling “Good Morning to You..” and “Beautiful Dreamer” for no particular reason other than the sun was shining.  My Emmy said, “You have a beautiful singing voice, Mama.”

I smiled, because to anyone else, I am sure I do not, but it made me remember my mom singing when I was her age, something she did all the time–in the car and the kitchen doing dishes, everywhere, and I remember thinking how beautiful her voice was. Recording worthy even! Love makes it all beautiful, I think.

I learned a lot of songs and hymns from my mom. We sang in the car with her many times. Lisa sang harmony, and I sang third part. One memory is when we were camping out on Hinsdale Island up in the boundary waters of the Kabetogama State Forest . We were in the tent one evening around sunset, and Mom was singing this one:

Love divine, so great and wondrous,
Deep and mighty, pure, sublime,
Coming from the heart of Jesus.
Just the same through tests of time!

He the pearly gates will open,
So that I may enter in;
For He purchased my redemption
And forgave me all my sin.

In life’s eventide at twilight,
At His door I’ll knock and wait;
By the precious love of Jesus,
I shall enter heaven’s gate.

Lisa and I liked to join in on the chorus.

He the pearly gates will open,
So that I may enter in;
For He purchased my redemption
And forgave me all my sin
.

If Mom was singing, we knew everything was alright. No matter what else was wrong in this crazy old world, Mom was singing, so things were A-OK in ours.

We have no idea  how the music we play and sing is imprinted on the minds and hearts of our children. The memories of my mom singing go far back into earliest childhood. She sang many songs wherever we were, but the Christian songs and hymns are the ones that I remember most.  Her singing laid the soundtrack for my life and that of my siblings, and that soundtrack has never shut off. Sometimes, during the rough passages in life, the soundtrack grew quieter, but it has never left me. As I grow older, those same hymns and songs come back to me in full volume, and I try to pass some of them down.

I was singing this song recently, and my little daughter asked me about it. The song passes along everything I want to convey to her and to all of my children—most important words in the soundtrack of her life.

Because he lives
I can face tomorrow
Because he lives
All fear is gone
Because I know he holds the future
And life is worth the living
Just because he lives

And then one day
We’ll all cross the river
And fight life’s final war with pain
And then, as death gives way to victory
I’ll see the lights of glory and I’ll know he reigns

Because he lives
I can face tomorrow
Because he lives
All fear is gone
Because I know he holds the future
And life is worth the living
Just because he lives

One last thought. Emmy passed the speakers at home one day recently and stopped in her tracks. It was the song I posted here recently, “His Eye is on the Sparrow.” She listened to it on her way out the door to play. “That’s a very nice song,” she said, and she  walked out. Just another song in the soundtrack of love in her life.

 

 

 

We Are Their World

I was very young when I first became a mother. Little Charlie in all his vulnerability wrapped his little fingers around my heart, and I have never looked back to what life would have been without him or any of my six children.

There are so many happy joyful memories of being a mother. So many times of laughter and fun. But the true bonds of mother and child are developed in the difficult times, the worrisome times, when you are awake in the night feeling a feverish little body, and that grip of fear on your heart reminds you of how dear that child is to you.

My second son had severe asthma from six months onward. He was hospitalized over 30 times between six months and age 6, both in ER visits and usually for 2 to 3 day stays. He was allergic to almost everything environmentally, which made it especially difficult to get his wheezing under control. Every cold he had resulted in bronchospasms that would mean him having to be treated with IV steroids and various other drugs that were the latest in treatment to open his airways. He spent days on end on 7 North and 7 South, the asthma wards at that time. We knew all the nurses, and we watched the seasons change there.

There are so many memories of holding him hooked up to the various monitors, worrying and praying for him, trying to keep his time there positive and happy.  He still remembers me bringing the red and white striped bags from the gift shop with a small surprise for him each time. It was a tradition for us. He remembers the bins of toys I’d bring in from the play room and getting to watch children’s TV, something he usually didn’t get to do at home.

Sam is a husband and father of three children himself now. Nearly 30 years old. But he told me that he has no negative memories from those hospitalizations, despite the papoose boards used to restrain him for IV’s, the endless breathing treatments, and horrible tasting medicines and misery. To me, that said so much about children and mothering. He remembers the love and care, and me nearby, always nearby trying to sleep on the small couch, because I couldn’t leave him alone at night in case he felt scared and needed me.

I had to leave the hospital once for several hours to go home and take care of some things. I was gone longer than intended, and getting off the elevator that evening, I saw a nurse pulling Sammy in a small wagon down the hall. His look was one of utter dejection. He was slumped in the wagon, looking sad. As the wagon approached the nurses station, he looked up to see me. I’ll never forget the look of sheer joy in his eyes. His arms flew up for me to hug him. Mom was back. His world was OK again.

I remember that all these years later, because it showed me how important moms are to their children. We are their world. Our choices and decisions have a direct impact on their well-being and happiness. It’s a sobering thing.

So many mothers struggle, and I understand that with all my heart. I was a single parent at the time with a world of burdens on my shoulders.  Those mothers who have no support and help or who are dealing with counter-parents rather than co-parents carry unbelievable loads.  Those who continue to love their children, day in and day out, and who try to give their children the best they can in spite of circumstances are true heroes. I think of these moms on Mother’s Day.

My adult son told me something recently that I’ll always carry with me. He said, “I always remember the feeling of being safe with you, Mom.” Isn’t that what we strive for? That , come what may, in this broken and often bleak world, our children have a safe refuge with us. No matter the housing, the financial situation, or any other negative in their lives, they are safe with Mom–a mother who believes them, protects them, cherishes them to the best of her ability.  Creating that safe zone is the work of all mothers. If our children remember that, we have done our jobs well.

Oh, the Books!

I still remember the scent when I opened the door to the children’s section at the library as a child. I say scent, because the collective smell of the books was beautiful to me. It evoked a sense of excitement—far off places, beloved characters in stories, biographies of interesting people, and so much more. I  remember the color of the green tile floors at old Finney, and to this day, if it were still there, I could tell you where my favorite authors were. That was my first library, and it has pride of place in my memory.

In fifth grade, I developed an obsession with the Presidency of John F. Kennedy. I think I read every book on the subject at Finney, even making my way to the adult section when the limited number ran out in the children’s. I could have told you a great deal about the man, the President and his assassination, in detail, at the time.  (My mother’s copy of, Death of a President is what got me started!)

My second library was the Wauwatosa Public Library, a beautiful place long before the redesign and building project in the late 1980’s. The children’s section was (and the new one still is) huge compared to Finney. When I first saw it, I felt like I had entered a book lover’s paradise. I carried home stacks of books every week. It was a  world of enchantment and fascination in my arms.  I learned so much about the world from books.  Much more than just sitting in classrooms.

It has been a joy to watch the love affair with the library continue in some of my own children. Some, not all. But our youngest, Emily, loves to read, and already has her favorite authors at the library. I offer up suggestions as we walk through. Some she likes, some she does not. I think some of the books haven’t caught her imagination yet, because she isn’t old enough for some of them. Some books, I don’t recommend to her. There is a great deal of paranormal, bizarre and unacceptable material in the library, especially now. Parents have to be the filter for children. Just as we guard our children from toxins of various kinds physically, we guard our kids from toxic materials for their minds and souls. If it isn’t honest, if it isn’t true and tells lies about the world and parents, etc., if it doesn’t celebrate the good, than it isn’t welcome.

A lot of the children’s authors I loved are no longer found, sadly. New authors come up and the old classics we knew and loved disappear. I looked in vain today for a couple of authors I remembered, but they were not there. I bought up an entire series online of used girls’ books, the Beanie Malone series, that I loved so much. They were written in the 50’s, but I enjoyed them in the 70’s and 80’s. Girls today would not find them interesting at all maybe, but I loved the whole Malone family as the stories followed the motherless family through adulthood. There were a lot of fantastic values conveyed with the hard-working Malones. The author had a real gift for conveying common moral dilemmas and misadventures of American kids in a family. Great lessons were learned by reading the books.

Today, I snapped a photo of Emily who was waiting for me to find my own books. I ended up with a few Dorothy Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries and a 2016 release called, The Word Detective: Searching for the Meaning of It All at the Oxford English Dictionary. It’s a memoir by John Simpson, and if you think that’s boring, you’re very wrong. I’m already sucked into it.

The digital age has much to recommend it as far as communication and knowledge. But the thought of books, the kind you can hold in your hands and put on shelves, disappearing is a terrible thing. Emily has not yet been allowed into the digital world yet. She’s busy getting an appreciation for words on the page without digital distraction. It’s my strong view that children need to achieve an attention span and not have their brains rewired before they’ve even fully developed.

Emily and I have a  read aloud time. She sits in her smaller rocker next to mine and we read a chapter from our current book. It’s a special time for us, beyond just the reading of a story. She also has learned to love audio books on CD for when I can’t read to her. When summer days get long, those give her something fun to do to keep her mind and imagination busy.

There are no guarantees your children will love what you love. But as a parent, you can just set the table, so to speak, and let them sample good things that you lay out. Hopefully, the taste for good books will catch on! It looks like Emily is on her way.

Savor Them Now

The photo below was posted at a Texas daycare. Parents were too busy on their phones to look into the faces of their dear children who had waited all day for the moment they would have a parent back. Imagine being that child, so proud of your handiwork, waiting to show Mama or Daddy what you’ve made, only to find that they don’t care enough to get off their phones. It brings me to tears.

If such a thing were possible, I wish I could have one day with each of my six children back when they were small. I can remember the feel of each their skin, the bath times, the bed time stories, the meal time fun we had, the times they were sick and I was worried, the hugs and tuck-in rituals, the kisses on their chubby faces. I love each of them more than words can say, and I always will.

Advice from older generations to the younger is not generally received well anymore. Young people don’t want to hear it. The terms “Grandma”and “Grandpa” are used as an insult online frequently to dismiss something an older person has to say. But here is what I would tell a young mom if I could. You have absolutely no idea the speed with which time flies. You hear it often, because it is true. That baby who wakes you up every two hours is a toddler by the end of their first year. Walking. Away from you. Do not resent your children’s impositions on your time. The echo of their small voices in your mind will soon be all you have, and regrets are terrible to live with.

I have to remind myself of these things every day. We have a young child, and some days, I think (as I once did when I was a young mom), I can’t wait until this child can do this herself. But what is different is that now I stop myself from that line of thinking. She will be eight years old this summer. EIGHT. How did that happen? The little girl times will come to an end so very soon that it chokes me up.

At night, I lie awake thinking of her asleep in her bed with the Hello Kitty sheets and her dolls and stuffed animals nearby, and a kind of panic hits me. Was there something else I should have done—should be doing with her? Have I enjoyed and savored this phase enough? She doesn’t know that some nights I get up to kiss her while she’s sleeping. Because she’s growing so fast, and like her siblings, she will be gone before we know it.

Moms (and Dads), whatever else you have to let go, don’t let it be loving and spending time with your little people (or kids whatever their age.) Emmy asked me to play with her the other day, and I was in the middle of something. I wish I had put it down. I promised to make some muffins with her the other day, and we never did. Muffin making is on the agenda after school today. She will be thrilled.

Don’t rush your children to the next developmental phase. Their “littleness” is precious, and they’ll get to the next milestone before you know it. Those soft little hands will soon stop reaching for yours, because they’ll be too big. Something to remember.

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Small Girl, Big Faith

fb_img_1485441432706Emily was not feeling well and was home from school last week. She wanted to watch kids’ shows on PBS, but I said, no, today was a books only day. She got propped up in bed and got her Bible story books, three different ones and spent the day, literally, immersed in them. About 11, she came into the family room where I was and had her face crumpled up with tears coming down. She held open the story of Jesus’ crucifixion with an illustration of Christ on the way to the cross. “This is so sad, Mom. They did this to Jesus.” She said several times, “It’s so sad…” We had a wonderful conversation about what it all meant. She also asked about the two criminals on the cross on each side of Jesus, how one believed and one did not, how Jesus triumphed over death by rising again, how He ascended into heaven and before He left, how He promised He was coming back. She came back several times with questions about Old and New Testament, and showed me the illustration of Jesus with the children, and then, she came back again with the story of Jesus healing the blind man, and again, showing the beautiful illustration of young Jesus at age 12, discussing the Law with the teachers in the Temple.

I have seen a great uptick of interest in our daughter about spiritual things lately. Her love for Jesus is real and it shines in her eyes when she talks about Him. It’s a very sobering responsibility to know that our children are watching and listening to us, and that we can either blunt that faith, destroy it, or nurture it, water it and help it to grow. Having this responsibility with Emily has been a great help to me spiritually. Why? Because the ugliness of this world, the harm done to us by the inexplicable evil we experience—especially from other professing Christians– can cause us to make shipwreck of our own faith. It’s in the simplicity and trust in a child’s eyes and praise that I find my way home again to the Lord many times, and I understand newly, nearly every day, why God places such value on the example of children in the area of faith. All our sophisticated thinking, intellectual pride and self-righteousness drop away when we look into the face of the Savior, like a child, and believe that his atoning wounds on Calvary covered our sin. Thanks be to God.

 

Different March, Different Women

You’re going to see a very different crowd of women and very different speakers today at the March for Life. After catching the video collection this morning of obscene, vulgar, violence promoting women on the march last weekend, this march will be a stark contrast. Those who love and want to protect all life, beginning at its most vulnerable, are marching today. I don’t care about numbers – it’s irrelevant. If there were 12, these would be the women I would march with, if only I could. But there aren’t just 12, there are millions of us who know that each child is precious, that no child deserves to be torn limb from limb and discarded with the trash, or its body parts sold for profit. (There is an actual established price on the skin of the Downs babies now routinely aborted.)

God bless all the women who stand for life today and always, who know that children are no burden when you love them. Adoption is the loving option, not murder. Vice-President Pence has my deepest respect for his promised presence there today. The harpies shrieking about men shutting up because they don’t have wombs are totally wrong. It takes two to make a child, and the voices of fathers have been totally shut out of the abortion discussion. Thank God for real men who take responsibility for the children they father. And thank God for a Vice-President with the moral character to stand for life and not further the bloody death culture of the last Administration.

“Open your mouth for the voiceless, in the cause for all who are appointed to destruction.” ~ Proverbs 31:8

(This is our little daughter, Emily, at 8 weeks. She’s the one the perinatologist suggested I should abort due to risk factors for me. I never saw that hard-faced woman again. All life deserves protection. )

beautifuldreamer

 

 

“Do You Think He’s Seen Jesus Over There?”

The last seven years of raising another little girl has had its challenges and joys, emphasis on joys. Being the mother of a young child is always fascinating and rich with insights. There is a reason that Jesus said we must become like little children if we desire to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Their faith and trust, lack of cynicism and self-righteousness are what He was talking about.

There are many spiritual lessons to be found almost daily with a young child.  Some stick out in my mind. I remember a moment when Emily was four years old. On Christmas Eve we were talking about the Advent (coming) of our LORD in Bethlehem so long ago. I said to her, “Tonight is the night we remember Jesus coming to us.”

Her face lit up, eyes like two stars. She ran to the front  door and began jumping up and down and shouting.

“Jesus is coming here? When, Mama, when?” She thought He was coming to our door. Literally. In person. That night.

The joy and expectation on her face moved me deeply. The faith of a child, delighted she would meet  her Jesus. No doubt in her mind. Just faith and belief in the goodness of our Savior.

At age seven, she is on that borderline between knowing facts and still having the innocence of young childhood.  The line is frequently blurred. Last night I had an article up about Israel and there was a photo of the Prime Minister prominently displayed.

“Who is that?” she asked, walking up behind my chair.

“Benjamin Netanyahu, the Prime Minister of Israel,” I told her.

“Israel? Wow.” She thought about that for a moment. “Benjamin was one of the  names of Jacob’s sons. We learned that in school”

Another pause.

Then her eyes lit up. “Do you think that man has gotten to see Jesus over there?”

I reminded her that Jesus walked the earth 2,000 years ago.

Her face clouded. “No, Mr. Benjamin isn’t that old, I guess.”

Lots of laugh out loud moments with children, and also moments that cause tears to come to your eyes.

“Do you think he’s gotten to see Jesus over there?”

A wistful and hopeful question. Maybe he has seen my Jesus.

For now, we see Jesus by faith. Hebrews 11. Some day we will see him face to face. The hands that were scarred for us. The One who loved us so much He took our place and the penalty for sin.

What a day that will be, Emily., when you can run to the One you love, who saved you by His grace. That is the blessed hope that keeps us as Christians going in this dark world.  That is how we continue on when the rebellion and sin around us gets worse and worse.

There’ll be no sorrow there,
No more burdens to bear,
No more sickness, no pain,
No more parting over there;
And forever I will be,
With the One who died for me,
What a day, glorious day that will be.
What a day that will be,
When my Jesus I shall see,
And I look upon His face,
The One who saved me by His grace;
When He takes me by the hand,
And leads me through the Promised Land,
What a day, glorious day that will be.

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