(Somewhat) Simplified Living

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A Letter from Hilary – and a pretty simple way of understanding what God wants from us.

I’ve been mulling over a parenting situation that occurred two days ago, and I still don’t have any better response than I did then. My two boys, ages 10 and 7, were pushed out the door to walk the dog, kicking and complaining the whole time. And that’s how they returned, only the decibel level had risen, and there were tears and names being called.

The older son Jack bounded downstairs to play Wii. The younger son Joe stomped into the living room where I was, and said, “Jack’sbeingajerkandkickedmeandpunchedmeandthrewiceballsatmeandwouldn’tstopevenwhenIsaidnoIhatehim.”

After bringing Jack in to the conversation, the truth behind the depth of Joe’s hurt came out. “Yesterday Jack told me he doesn’t love me.” I was incredulous. This was a new one.

Me, “Is this true?”
Jack, deadpan, “Yeah.”
Me, “You said you don’t love him??”
Jack, deadpan, “Yeah. Well, I don’t. He’s just my brother. You can’t make me love him.”
I pressed him, yet he remained resolute.

I simply had no response. I was desperate to make Joe feel better, to make Jack admit the truth, in hopes that the truth was better than what I was hearing. Desperate to help Jack see why this was so hurtful, which he did not understand. “I don’t get why it’s such a big deal,” said Jack. “It’s just the way it is. I just don’t love him. You can’t make me.”

He was right, after all. I cannot make him feel an emotion he doesn’t feel. I was appalled. I sat silent, holding a sobbing 7-year-old in my lap.

I prayed silently for wisdom. None came. So I sent Jack to his room. After consoling Joe and telling him that I love him enough for a hundred people and that even if Jack wouldn’t admit it, I KNEW that he loved him and brothers just say these things, ya-da, ya-da, ya-da.

I prayed some more. Then I called Jack in to talk.
“You’re right, Jack,” I began. “I can’t make you feel love toward Joe. But I can set expectations for how we’ll behave toward one another as a family. You will act loving toward him, treat him kindly and respectfully, regardless of how you feel, or there will be consequences. I don’t care how you feel. I care how you act. You will ACT lovingly toward him. I love him. He’s my son, and I won’t let anyone, including you, treat him poorly. If you love me, then show ME you love ME by loving HIM.”

And then, I added, with an intended STING, “And until you figure that out, I don’t want to hear about your Christmas list, or your troubles at school with your friends, or your aching stomach. Until you can show Joe some love and tenderness, don’t expect that from me.” (I’m pretty sure this line was NEVER in a “HOW TO PARENT” book, but it’s honest and I felt much better saying it…

I sent him back to his room to think about this and how God would want him to act. Ya-da, ya-da, ya-da.

As appalled and ashamed as I was of his behavior, I was also convicted. I guess this is how God feels toward me sometimes.

I write off someone I just don’t “click with”. I forgive myself for not feeling love toward someone who rubs me the wrong way. I allow myself the freedom to pick and choose who I’ll love and who I won’t.

God never commanded emotion. But he did command action. Loving actions toward His children, and it must appall Him when I pray for a long list of things I want, and then turn around to my brother or sister and say in my spirit, unapologetically, “Sorry, I just can’t muster up any love for you….Oh dear God, and another thing, could you…?”

God pours out love on us, and when we try to pay Him back with our piddly good deeds, He must just shake His head. What He DOES say is, “Don’t pay me back. You can’t. But all that desire you have to love me? Love HIM. Love HER. Pour it out on them. That’s how you can please me.”

And then, under His breath, I think he mutters, “And until you get that figured out, I don’t want to hear about your Christmas list, or the trouble with your mother-in-law, or about those financial troubles you’re having….” Or at least that’s what I’d do if I were Him…

I don’t know what it is about the holidays that make so many find it an appropriate time to say good-bye, but I’m sure it’s been researched.  My brother-in-law’s grandfather passed away on Christmas morning this year.  Our grandmother passed away 5 days later.  He & my sister just brought their new baby home, I have three children at home for Christmas break, yet we all had a desire to be at their gravesides to say good-bye.

But let’s face it, that’s just not always possible, or logical.  So why do we put so much pressure on ourselves to be there?  Part of it is our desire to honor their life, the role they played in ours, and to say good-bye.  But if we’re honest, it is also because of the expectations of others.  Other family members who think we should be there, others who are spending hundreds & rearranging schedules to be there.

But does our presence (or lack of it) truly reflect our feelings, our respect, our amount of caring?  Of course not.  So in those situations, I’m learning to make the choice that makes the most sense, rather than the one that makes the most people happy.  It’s taken me 38 years to even be willing to give this a try.

After looking at the cost of airfare to Mississippi, childcare arrangements, accommodations once I got there, a rental car, etc.  I made the choice to stay home.  I poured a glass of wine, got out my laptop and began to write.  I wrote a tribute to my grandmother that my mother read at her service.  I shared what she had meant to me, what I had learned from her, what I will miss.  I wept, I laughed, I said good-bye.  And I stayed home.  No less caring, no less respectful, but much, much simpler.

I began asking myself this question years ago, after one particularly exhausting holiday.  We’d packed the car full of gifts, luggage & very excited children to make the drive to my parents’ house 4 1/2 hours away…we had celebrated…we’d re-packed the car full of gifts we received, our disheveled luggage & not quite as excited children.  We’d driven home.  We had unpacked & re-packed the car with new gifts, re-packed our luggage & our now cranky children.  We’d driven to my (fresh & awaiting their Christmas celebration) in-laws.  We forced smiles as we unpacked the car of their gifts, our luggage & our now half-asleep children…we celebrated…the next day we packed the car (while fighting) with more new gifts & our now downright mean children.  We drove home in silence.  We unpacked the car, and I began to cry.

I grew up 650 miles from the nearest relative & envious of everyone around me spending the holidays with family.  I found myself wondering if my parents had planned it that way.  I longed to “pile in the car & head to Gran’s house” loaded with gifts & laughter & Christmas music.  My fantasy.

Reality (at least for the one doing the shopping, wrapping, packing, driving, visiting, disciplining, apologizing..) was a far cry from the fantasy I’d spent years..YEARS…pining after as a child.

My father once told us girls (which included my mother) that people spend their time in one of three realms…in reality, in fantasy or in memory.  He marveled at the fact that his time was spent almost exclusively in reality, yet ALL four of us spent 100% of our time in the latter two.  He was right.  It was more pleasant there.

So this year I attempted what I thought would be a (somewhat) simplified solution to the holiday family gathering..combining my own and my husband’s family for Christmas.  If you’re cringing right now just at the thought of this, you have more wisdom than I.  It was a disaster.  And somehow I came out on the bottom of the pile.

I began interviewing everyone I talked to about how they handle the holidays with two families to celebrate with, in addition to the family of their own.  One thing rang true in every single response…there was nothing simple about it.

My sister-in-law (very appropriately) gave me the book, “Simplify Your Christmas” by Elaine St. James.  I highly recommend it to everyone.  I was mesmerized by the stories of people everywhere trying to simplify their holiday season, to get back to the heart of the holiday without losing their minds (and relationships) in the process.

So as I continue to look for a more simplified way of making 15 people happy, my husband has taken over the Christmas holiday plans for 2010.  I passed that baton with a smile.  I’ll let you know what happens…

Hilary is my very dear, very bright, well-spoken, completely transparent, driven, tender-hearted & emotional, hilarious friend with incredibly quick wit.  I’ve been trying to get to write a book for years…for us, not for her.  I now share with you that with which the Lord has blessed me.  My friend Hilary.  (With her permission, of course)

December 14

Christmas Cards Gone Awry

Wanna know the antithesis of simplified living? The annual Christmas card. Nothing strikes fear in the hearts of women everywhere than the pressure of summarizing the year in one perfectly-written letter and a photo that must portray the glistening all-American family that is aptly coifed and attired, well-adjusted and gleaming as brightly as the angel atop the tree, which is a crappy analogy in the first place because I’ve never had an angel on the top of my tree. When I finally found the right one, it was eaten by the dog while we were hanging the other ornaments.

Originally intended as a simple handwritten greeting to a few close friends you wish you could see during the holidays, this onetime-quaint tradition has morphed into a Martha-infested, stress-filled monstrosity rivaled only by your child’s birthday party, complete with clown and inflatable jumpy thing.

Does this sound familiar to anyone? After rummaging through a year’s worth of files of photos you’ve not yet downloaded off the camera, you realize you have only one photo where you’re actually in the picture. And it’s the one your seven-year-old took while you were doing dishes, hair awry, no makeup, no bra. That will NEVER do.

Then comes the letter. Here are two options…

Dear Loved Ones,

After receiving the pleasant news that our eldest, Humphrey Alan, has once again this year been named Most Christlike at Our Lady of Perpetual Euphoria, and that our youngest, Tiffany May Sue, will receive a full scholarship to the best Montessori middle school in the tri-county area, we took a break from the dreadful stress of remodeling the lake house with a family vacation abroad. Upon returning, we received word that Jim has been promoted (again) and with his annual bonus we’re putting in a pool. Hope to see you when we return from Belize for the holidays. Cheers and well wishes,

The Bensons

Or this…

Dear Friends,

Like last year and the year before that, Humphrey received straight C’s, and spends most of his free time playing Nintendo and spends most of each basketball game warming the bench. When she’s speaking to us, Tiffany speaks in monosyllabic sentences, and refuses to be seen with us in public. Since Jim is out of work and we’re both incredibly bored with one another, I fear I’ve become an alcoholic, and could really use prescription antidepressants. We went to Six Flags for an afternoon this summer which was the only day of the summer when all four of us could get off work. Not sure where we’re spending Christmas, but we do have Domino’s on speed dial. But all in all, life is pretty good and we’re feeling blessed this year.

The secret is, these letters could both be from the same family. I like the second family best. They sound more like me. Pick your reality for this year, and sum it up in three paragraphs or less. It can be as rosy or as dim as you like when it’s heavily edited.

Don’t even get me started on the card itself. This year, I had the delusion that in keeping with my newfound theme of Simplicity, I should make instead of buy cards. Five glue sticks and three Stampin’ Up pads later, I’m off to the card aisle at Walmart.

Actually, the best idea I’ve heard came from a dear friend. “I send Christmas cards when I want to, and I don’t when I don’t, which means this year, I’m sending Valentine’s Day cards instead.”

Hmmmm….it seems simplicity mostly means remembering the spirit of the season and ignoring the hype, and giving myself permission to be me, warts and all. Simple enough. That, I can handle…

I’ve spent some time today pondering a comment made by one of the little guests at our Birthday Party for Jesus on Saturday.  When my mother was reading “What God Wants for Christmas” to the preschool group of girls, she made the (seemingly obvious) statement that God loves each one of us.  Adorable friend of #3 says very matter-of-factly, “except for robbers”.

Oh – Nana was just waiting for that door to open.  She went on to explain that actually God loves the robber too.  He doesn’t like what that robber is doing, He’s disappointed in his choices, but He still loves the robber.  Friend of #3 seemed to buy it.  Or did she?

Why is it that we have such a hard time grasping that God truly loves each one of us?  We so badly want it to be about doing good, or being good, because that’s a measure we understand.  That’s how our world operates.  We want to think that if we know someone behaving a little more badly than we are, we should be fine.  That by comparison, we look pretty good, so surely God will give us the thumbs up.  At least we’re not robbing people.

But the truth is, God could give a hoot about how much good we do, or how hard we try to do the right thing, if we’re doing it without Him.  He wants our heart to be His.  He wants to be involved in our life, part of our decisions and brought into our daily choices and struggles.  He wants US, not to see how much good we can do.  That’s where we get it backwards.

Of course He is pleased with our right choices & good deeds, but those are not what lead us to Him.  A relationship with HIM is what should lead us to those things.  We don’t do good to earn the favor of God, we love and accept the unmerited favor of God, which makes us want to do good.

It’s the age-old argument heard from every person wrestling with Christianity.  “I don’t have to go to church to be a Christian.”  Well of course not!  No one is checking up on you, taking attendance, making sure you “follow the rules of being a Christian”.  It’s that being a Christian & loving the Lord make you want to go to church.  That relationship gives you a desire to know & understand more, to spend time around others who are pressing toward the  mark themselves.  Going to church does not make you a Christian or secure your place in heaven, only asking Jesus into your heart, welcoming him into your life can do that.

Then there’s the other half, struggling to believe that God loves everyone, most importantly, the one they see in the mirror.  These would be my people.  My struggle has never been in understanding how God could love others, but in how God could love me.  But He does.  I disappoint Him, I fail Him, I misrepresent Him, I fail to draw others to Him, and yet He loves me still.  You have to be a parent before you can begin to understand that kind of love.

There are days I am frustrated with my children, days that I don’t like them very much, times they disappoint and even embarrass me.  But I love them all the same.  I know their hearts, I know who they really are inside, and that the ridiculously stupid thing they just did or said is not a measure of what is inside.  It just means they need more teaching, more guidance, more “coming alongside”.

And that’s just how our Father in Heaven feels about you.  And me.  And the robber.

It’s that simple.

The struggle to keep my children (and myself, quite frankly) focused on the meaning of Christmas has long been a frustration of mine.  Some dear friends of ours shared with me how they grew up having a birthday cake & singing “Happy Birthday” for Jesus every Christmas.  An idea was born.

So we held our 3rd Annual Birthday Party for Jesus yesterday.  11 children (plus 3 of my own), ranging from 3-9 years old.  A lot of work (only because I make it that way), but oh, so incredibly worth it.  In 2 hours we have cake & sing “Happy Birthday”, we do crafts and read “What God Wants for Christmas” with the kids.  If you’ve never seen this before, it’s fantastic.  It’s an interactive, kid-friendly nativity you can order from Family Life (www.familylife.com) or on Amazon.

This year I made a Christmas version of Bingo centered around the Christian version of Christmas   We played it at the party, and then sent one home with each child for their family to enjoy.  This party has been a wonderful way to remind our children (and ourselves) of the real meaning of what we’re celebrating, and that it doesn’t have a thing to do with Santa Clause or their wish lists.  Thanks to my wonderful husband, mother-in-law and mom for all of their help in pulling this off.  You are each such a blessing to me.

If you’re interested in hosting a party of your own, whether with just your own family, or including neighbors & friends, check out my website www.birthdaypartyforjesus.com for more ideas.

It can be as simple as store-bought cupcakes and a song.

After a few years of being mystified by the whole blogging sub-culture, I’ve decided to jump in.  It’s not that I think I have something so important to say, but more that I’ve realized how much we can help one another in this journey through life.  We’re all trying to figure it out, right?  Marriage, raising children, getting our home in order, feeling good about the reflection in the mirror…it’s exhausting.

So I thought I’d share some of my own insights with you (most of which I’ve garnered from other people), with the hope that you might find something, anything, to bring some semblance of satisfaction to whatever it is that is frustrating you.

Some days it’s the dried-on food on a dinner plate that no one bothered to scrape off, or the laundry hamper that is full (again) with clothes they wore for 10 minutes but just didn’t want to hang back up, that frustrates me.  Some days it’s the national debt or the crisis in the Middle East that has me worked up, and others it’s the mudroom floor that is full of sand & melted snow.  Some days just sorting through the amount of paperwork that comes home with each child feels like the enormity of the Katrina clean-up.

But one thing I’ve learned, is that no matter how great or how small the frustration, someone, somewhere has a fabulous idea of how to tackle it.  I hope you’ll find a few of those here.