Tag Archives: christian parenting

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I sat in Hallie, the middle's, bedroom a few evenings ago just catching up on the events of the day. As I reached down to hug her goodnight my eyes fixed on a Christmas gift I gave her a couple of years ago. It was a simple piece of wall art I found at TJ Maxx.

The words, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star stamped across the board, I hoped, would remind her of her brilliance and encourage her in her endeavors. I'd crudely strung a piece of twine across the bottom to hang her theater ribbons. She was so fond of them her eighth grade year.

Several ribbons have fallen and likely made their way under her bed amongst empty water bottles and socks who will likely never reunite with their partners in the basket that lives in laundry room downstairs. She's won several ribbons since then who are probably stuffed in a makeup drawer or lying in the abyss we call her closet.

This shrine has lost its meaning. I'm glad.

Though I mean well, I've erroneously, through the years, shared a potentially harmful message with my kids.

In attempt to help them be secure, I've spoken words to help them believe that when it comes to beauty, brains and character they're tops! ...Except for when others make them feel they're not. And except for when I make them feel they're not because I have to correct them, or even when I say careless things because I'm cranky (How long has it been since you've washed YOUR HAIR?!, How are you NOT getting this?) 

Correction should be given carefully, but so should compliments.  When our children see us put confidence in their flesh, they will inevitably be disappointed when their flesh fails, as it will time and time again.

Our children need to see us bewildered at how God has made them and who God is making them to be. When they see our focus and confidence is clearly on God and his work they are more able to love themselves without having to shine above others (or else shrink in the shadows).

Marveling at God's work in their lives, rather than in their stellar behavior or their awesome talents or features, enables them to love others without the need to try to continually outdo (to ensure they hold their I am special title). It permits them to believe that I am special (and that others are too) because we're created and spurred on by a God who does the incredible in each of us. 

Here's what I wish we all had the faith and courage to tell our children:

  • You are special. You're special because God made you with a unique story to live. You're not special because you're better than anyone else.
  • You're beautiful; a fearfully and wonderfully made individual...just like everybody else our amazing God lovingly created.
  • You're knowledgeable and capable. God has given you the ability to do the good things he wants you to do. You're wise when you don't boast of those capabilities. You're wise when you need not be convinced of this gift through the compliments and acknowledgement of others. You're wise when you remember that God's grace is available when you fail to properly use your knowledge and abilities. You're wise when you remember to use your abilities for his purpose.

I pretty much stink at this right now. I often choose the fast track to security for my children; a quick pat on the back, a graceless remark about another child (in effort to make mine feel better), and through puffy words that deflate as quickly as they inflated a false sense of confidence.

I can do better. I'm sure we all can. After all, God's still working in all His children.

For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. 

Ephesians 2:10

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It's GA Day. Time to recognize our church's Girls in Action. Know what else that means it's time for? -Tearing up the house to find our purple vest that will be worn in three and a half hours. 

Certain members of the Burden family, myself included, have enough trouble locating something we used yesterday (keys, scissors). You asking us to find last year's vest? Nearly too much to ask. 

That's why I was bursting with pride when we found the vest in fifteen short minutes after church today. In fact we found Hallie's old vest and encouraged her to wear it as a sign of support. Fat chance. These vests are more a mission statement than a fashion statement. I'll encourage Hallie to be missional by loving her sister when the bathroom feels too small to share. 

There was one other little problem the vest presented when we pulled it out of the box in the garage. It had patches that needed to be affixed by sewing or other sticky means. Sewing? No can do. I can however squeeze a tube of glue like nobody's business. Too bad I can't seem to find the kind of glue that actually sticks. 

Several years ago Hallie's patches fell off while she walked on stage to receive her certificate. Last year Rylie lost hers too. 

This afternoon, I re-stuck the ones that came off last year and glued the new ones she got last year that I never put on. 

I have issues with things sticking-

  • Like my resolve to stop worrying
  • And that decision to calm the road rage 
  • My commitment to really read the Bible every day

What is it they say about good intentions? 

They say I'm in trouble. 

I say Let the patches fall where they may. 

Sure I fail, sometimes miserably. When I'm not failing miserably I'm failing consistently, in some small way. 

I won't put away the glue though. 

He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. Colossians 1:17


I'm thankful for glue. I'm even more thankful for grace. 

Grace=Disater Relief
...All that passing laws against sin did was produce more lawbreakers. But sin didn’t, and doesn’t, have a chance in competition with the aggressive forgiveness we call grace. When it’s sin versus grace, grace wins hands down. All sin can do is threaten us with death, and that’s the end of it. Grace, because God is putting everything together again through the Messiah, invites us into life—a life that goes on and on and on, world without end. Romans 5:20-21 (The Message)

How not to put on patches:


P.S. I'm sincerely grateful to those who lead a Mission Friends, GA, RA or Acteen group. I'm also encouraged that we have young girls and guys who are interested in sharing the message of Jesus here and abroad. 

Let's Stay Connected


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College orientation at SHSU

 My car has the scent of new carpet in it.  I have a four foot by six foot rug rolled up in back. It's for Hayden's dorm room. It was my idea.  An area rug wasn't on his list. 

 I told myself I wasn't going to write about this. I said when I wrote about his graduation that it would be the last sappy post I wrote regarding the matter of my son entering adulthood and leaving his room; his room which is custom-designed with the desk he built, book-ended with two rusty old lockers disguised by silver spray paint.......

his room...littered with gaming magazines and the chair railing beside his bed plastered with chewed gum that prevented him from ever waking up with gum in that beautiful head of hair.  

 

I told myself I wouldn't subject Facebook to another cliche post about "moms who are sad that their babies are growing up" and how "time really does fly".  

But I lied. 

I also told myself I was going to handle this "moving off" thing like a champion and even took Hayden shopping for dorm stuff on the Saturday of tax-free weekend. 

That didn't stop me from menacingly shaking my fist at the friend I saw in Wal-Mart when she said "I know what YOU'RE doing..." 

 "Don't bring it up," I said, as if my ignorance with a cart of full dishes, cleaning supplies and "all things leaving" could equal bliss. 

I know he's leaving. 

I was reminded when I came home last week to him packing boxes (without even asking me first!). 

So since the reality of his leaving is sinking in like a ton of bricks, I'll face it like every other mom and dad who are facing it and like those who faced it last year or twenty years ago. 

I'll cry in my bedroom when nobody's watching. I'll help box up the new toilet brush I bought him and the Lysol wipes.....and the blue Dawn (the only dish washing soap that helps oily ducks). 

I'll teach him how to sort clothes and remind him that he can call if he's not sure which wash setting to use. 

I'll get the SHSU Mobile App on my phone and look (and maybe memorize) the upcoming activities on campus for the next few weeks. And I'll give him advice on which activities will be helpful like the one where the upper classmen offer you a Coke and show you where your classes will be. 

I'll drive around (for the next week anyway) with his new area rug in my car and smell its newness which fills me with an equal portion of sadness and excitement. 

I got that carpet with the notion that the bare new floors on which his feet will tread might need a soft place. As his mom, I've always thought myself to be his soft place to land, even in times of tough love and discipline. 

I'll still be his soft place. But this soft place won't be the same as my cushy hip he used to rest on. I carried that boy on my hip until his legs hung past my knees. He's outgrown the soft place as we know it. 

I'll still send him more texts than he wants. Home and chocolate chip cookies and milk (all the milk he wants) will be here waiting for any chance he gets to come back. He'll ALWAYS have his place here. I'll go there too. 

But he has places to go and a new soft place to land. It's not just four foot by six foot. God has reminded me already that his presence goes where I can't. He has reminded me of this more times than I can count- on the kids' big test days and days where they face challenges I can't help them with (not including prayer). 

God is the soft place.  He has always been. 

It's just that a mom's soft place has a way of being imposing, so much so, that God can be hard to notice. 

My prayer is that Hayden will discover the shelter he has in his Father. I've got some discovering to do too. I pray that I will not just know, but experience the peace that comes through faithful prayer and faith-fuller answers from God.

The Lord is near. 

To Hayden

And to me

To those of you who moved your kids off last weekend and to those kids who may be filling up boxes as we speak (without even telling you). 

God is our soft place with dimensions much bigger than what you and I can fit in the back of our car. 

Change always has something to teach us. 

He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. Psalm 91:4

  • I apologize for any fist-shaking you may have encountered or encounter in the days to come. I apologize for the public tearfulness that's bound to happen on a lonelier church pew in the Sundays to come. I know THAT I KNOW, I'm not alone. 

 

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Maybe I should have been at church last night listening to my husband's message about how God talked to Moses face to face the way he would a friend. Instead, I was at the Heritage Festival with the kids eating fried food and spending money to let Rylie walk around in a large ball, like the ones gerbils walk around in (except it's on water). I do say though, it was a mid-seventies, mild lovely night. 

My job was simple. All I had to do was follow Rylie around until she found something she wanted to ride or climb through. Then I'd find the exit and wait for her. I'd watch her; so easily thrilled on each ride. Some of the rides were easy to watch. Other rides (even as a bystander) made me nauseous and feel rather out of control.  I've broken the attractions down in terms of how I enjoyed them using emojis. (I just learned that my iPad keyboard has smiley faces and I intend to use them.)

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There's a ninety percent chance it will rain today. I watched the forecast on the news this morning as I was packing three lunches for school. In my Monday morning mood I thought to myself that there was a better chance of rain today than all three of my children remembering their lunches. We're a forgetful bunch. Last Thursday one remembered their lunch, one forgot their lunch and one somehow got off with two drinks but missing her snack. This morning one "lost" her lunch. How do you misplace your lunch?

I scampered upstairs to check the bathroom (gross thought). Not there.  I was checking the next possible spot grumbling about

wishing we could have one morning

where we ALL have our stuff when she yelled, "I found it.  It fell behind the shoe basket."

It's not just mornings that I'm reminded of our inability to "get it right".

I am a diligent overseer of grades. I frequently go online to check how the kids are doing. I've also signed up to receive a notification any time the kids make anything below an eighty. At least one kid scores below an eighty on something every week.  Every Friday like clockwork I get an email from the address "noreply@nederland.k12.tx.us". But I tell you, I always have a reply.

Could we just have one Friday without one of these emails?

One Friday!

Jason suggested this past weekend I change the notification setting to a lower grade or that I discontinue the notification. ....The nerve of that guy.... Why would I want make our Friday afternoons more pleasant when I can have a guaranteed reason to shake my head at this "less than eighty nonsense"?  I think I may listen to him.

Sometimes I'm forgetful. 

I'm forgetful of my own blunders. I'm forgetful of my own forgetfulness. I've only recently come to the place of knowing I have to put my keys in the same basket on the counter or else they will be lost. I'm constantly looking for the one spatula I have. I lose paperwork. Worst, I lose my cool.

I'm also forgetful of how quickly time passes. The duties and demands of motherhood are unending.  As moms we spend so much time working to make things right, that we often neglect to realize how right things are. In the Burden house, the kids are all still home. The number of those days is getting fewer.

In five months we'll be moving our oldest into his college dorm. Jason and I attended a high school meeting two weeks ago for Hallie. I wasn't prepared to see "Class of 2019" on the projector screen. The kid was a preteen thirteen months ago. The baby is months away from double digits.

In ten years I won't have lunches to pack anymore. I more than likely won't have foreheads to kiss every morning.

I wonder if I'll be wishing we could have "just one morning". Maybe I'll be asking for another Friday with the kids all home.

It was just a few years ago that I grumbled about diaper changing. Now I miss grabbing those bare feet, squeezing pink baby toes while they were close to me.

They're a forgetful bunch, those kids. We're a forgetful bunch, us moms. Neither us or the kids get it right all the time. But today lets know where our heart should be. Mine is in a place called home; a sometimes messy spot where things are often missing

......but never should be love and gratitude for a gift as precious as our family.

Today put your heart on pause; maybe it will tick a little more slowly.   Forgotten lunches and crummy quiz grades for me,  or maybe dirty diapers and toddler tantrums for you, mean that our children are still children. Instead of asking for one day where we get it right, surely we know that today is right. God has given us today with them. Today is good.

We've been notified.

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To bring up a child in the way he should go-travel that way yourself. -Josh Billings

I probably shouldn't be writing about this on a Monday morning. The kids just left for school and there's a shower curtain and rod in a big jumbled mess on the bathroom floor that nobody knew was there. The girls were shrieking in frustration this morning indicating that the brother who has felt too bad to antagonize them is returning to good health and good pranks. Someone's eyeglasses are lost again. Their last known whereabouts is Hico (in Central Texas) at the visitation for Jason's grandmother who passed away last week. We have a picture to confirm this lasting sighting of the glasses. So. The lost eyeglasses are somewhere within a three-hundred and fifty mile radius. Since we usually have a great deal of difficulty finding them when they're lost in the house, this should be fun.

kids1

I've been thinking a few days about a phrase we hear every now and then.

"You have good kids."

I've had a few people say this to me through the years.  The opposite has been thought as well, but we know most people won't say your kids are bad until they know you're out of earshot.

When I've been told my kids are good, my response is varied.

  1.  I say something like "You should have seen them this morning"  countering the compliment with information that they're typical children with typical behavior that's not always good.
  2. Very rarely, do I say thank you. Here are the reasons.

Saying thank you feels like I'm taking credit for such goodness.  I am in a constant state of awareness of how difficult parenting can be.  I know I make mistakes.  And I make mistakes that I don't even know I make. It's a tough gig. Not to say that parenting is without reward and joy; parenting is full of both. But, this parenting path is one I walk blindly on; depending completely on God's grace to see me and my children through. Neither my parent's path or my neighbor's is just like mine.

Hearing from someone that my kids "are good" feels like too flat a description.  It doesn't quite describe their complicated nature which is at times opposed to good. My kids do good things like the one who spent her own money at the bookfair to buy an overpriced cat poster for her sister when I know she would very much like the cat poster for herself.  Or like the brother who rescued a lost dog this past weekend and then found the owners returning the dog to them.  I'm reminded of a time or two the dishwasher was unloaded without my asking.  These kindnesses are counterbalanced with episodes of fighting over things like the DS game charger and chores left undone. My kids do good things.  They misbehave too.

Saying thank you scares me frankly. In my own experience, the moment I brag on my kids, they go and ruin it.  I remark how nice they're being to each other only to hear them fight over feeding the dogs.  I listen to one of them tell the life story of Winston Churchill and swell with pride over their depth of knowledge only to check their grades online hours later to find a zero and a two terrible test grades.  Saying, even thinking that my children are doing good seems to have a jinxing effect.  How much more, if I accept a compliment suggesting that they're GOOD kids.

As parents, I think we all appreciate that person who takes notice of our family.  We're thankful for a kind word saying that we, or our kids, or both are doing a good job.  We're likewise thankful for people who encourage even though "good" is not how they see our kids present behavior (or our attempt to manage it). Our world is made brighter by kind words with encouraging intentions.

We also know as parents, that there are inevitably times that our parenting is questioned.  Our kids cop an attitude in public or act like hooligans in a restaurant.  Maybe they forget what we taught them about responding to an adult with maam and sir. We can be sure that our kid's name may go home with another kid, mentioned in a story that's anything but good.  Maybe our kid will act bullyish at one time or another, even if they have the kindest of hearts.  They'll probably be rude, deal with jealousy and say things that aren't true. Beyond bad behavior, even the hardest praying, most loving parents may find themselves and their children in a dark season where trouble seems to never leave. Regardless of our kids' behavior, misbehavior, or the severity thereof; all parents find themselves in the same boat.

We believe we are doing the best we know how.

There are times we are proud, and times we are dog-tired and our efforts seem fruitless.

We have room to improve and room to rely on God more than we already are.

We want people to love our children without regard to their behavior.

More worth mentioning than any of these things is the truth that we have a God who is good, loves our children unconditionally and a God whose behavior doesn't change.

We have a Father who promises:

His grace is sufficient for the parent who feels they're not getting it right and whose children aren't following their instructions.

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness. 2 Corinthians 12:9

He will guide us and He will guide our children.

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you. Psalm 32:8

We ought to be diligent to pray for each other as parents.  Let's pray for each other's children, keeping at the front of our mind that righteousness is only found in God. Pray that our encouragement to others would be rooted in truth and love.

Kids are a precious gift, wrapped in mystery, given by a good Father who leads us all along.

Email your thoughts, your wisdom or a request for prayer.

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I told myself I'd quit writing sappy stuff.  But I just turned forty.  And my son is participating in one of his last High School extracurricular events right now and I'm not there.  My oldest daughter is in her last year of Junior High.  And the youngest won't quit getting taller.  I'll have been married to the sweetest guy for twenty years in June. So just let it go this once, will you?  And then again next week if I regress.

My hair used to be longer.  It was wavy and brown and my firstborn couldn't go to sleep without having his chubby little fingers wrapped around a lock of it. Finding the right lock of hair wasn't easy either.
As soon as I would start the nightly bedtime routine in the creaky old wooden rocking chair that we'd restored, he'd grab for my hair. He would take a chunk.  First, he would pull it. He might decide that hair didn't feel right. So he'd let go and grab again in another spot and then he'd pull again waiting for the right feel.

The second step consisted of his little fingers winding about until there was no more winding to be done and my hair was safely locked inside his small fist. Often times after a minute had passed he would decide that lock of hair just wasn't right either and so he would grab again, and then pull and then wind another bunch of hair around his fingers once again. This was a nightly occurrence.

- a small beautiful misery.

IMG_0083

 

I rocked dutifully while he pulled my hair and looked around the room making sure not to miss a thing even in the dark.  And then he would fall asleep, safe and sound.

The only respite from the nightly hair-pulling came when he noticed a silver charm which  hung on a long necklace that lay close to my heart. My mom had bought me a silver baby shoe charm for my first Christmas as a mom. And so at times, he would instead clutch that.
When Hayden turned nine months old he was ready to stand. He knew there was exploring to be done; flower pots to turn over and cats to toddle after. His first standing moments were with the support of a couch and a little push toy passed down from a cousin. Other times he would stand after having leaned back against the front of my legs while holding my index fingers.  I'd let go and then slowly back away leaving him standing on his own.
I remember distinctly knowing he was ready to walk. I enlisted the aid of my silver necklace to entice him. Standing behind him, I dangled the charm in front of him knowing he would grab after it. And he did.
I pulled the charm up just a little and then moved it just a little farther where he'd have to take one step to grab at it again.  I wanted him to reach for it. Whether or not he knew (I think he did), I was right there behind him even when he could stand unsupported.

That little shoe and I?

We taught him how to walk.

Though part of me wanted to hold his small frame in my arms forever, I allowed him to go and do the thing he was ready to do.

 That's what moms do.

I watched Hayden last week as he filled out a college application.  We talked about signing up for a dorm room just a few days ago.  His leaving is seven months away.   I also got a letter just the other day reminding me that Hallie needs to make her schedule for High School next year. I've asked her for makeup tips several times lately.  And our youngest is flying through chapter books now unassisted. Wish I could take those chapter books and put them on her head and make it all stop.

Not really.  This is what we hope for our children.  We hoped that it would happen slower maybe.

To my kids:

It wasn't so long ago that I held you in my arms. But in the blink of an eye you were ready to walk.  I won't deny it made me a little sad, but oh so proud.  You may not have known it but I was proud even those times I watched you fall; especially when I watched you get back up.  I'll always be behind you rooting you on. And you may not hear me saying it, but I'll be whispering "Reach for it"

Shoes are made for walking.

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Therefore, since through God's mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart.

2 Corinthians 4:1

I came across a picture cleaning my bathroom yesterday. Don't ask why me it was in the bathroom. It was in a pile of pictures including some pictures my mom took this past Spring Break when we spent the week back home.

The Duffau River in the picture runs behind my parent's house.....I say "runs". More accurately, the part of the Duffau behind my parent's house is a riverbed with small pools of water. It's pretty awesome having a riverbed behind your house. It's like having a built-in patio. And unlike the tall grass on a river's edge, the dry riverbed isn't all that inviting to rattlesnakes and chiggers.

Through the years the riverbed has been a gathering place for my family.  The menfolk do feats of courage and the women folk watch and shake their heads. This past Spring the young menfolk were made to think that honor could be earned by jumping into the frigid water. The earlier in succession, the more honor.

Hayden gained a lot of honor this past trip. Feeling rather invincible after being warmed by a camp fire, he grabbed me up and proceeded to walk back over to the water's edge as if to dump me in. Knowing that protesting wasn't going to help I just held on for dear life. My mom, as you can see, had the camera instead of my back.

Looking back, that was a fun day. For the record, Hayden wised up and didn't drop me in the water. But as I looked at this picture yesterday a title instantly popped into my head.

Up Creek

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Because it was up creek. And as I notice the white knuckles and look of terror, I regrettably say that this picture quite resembles that up creek "in trouble" kind of feeling we parents find ourselves in some days.

There are days when parenting is tough. The kids refuse one too many times to perform simple tasks like flushing the toilet or closing the car door or being courteous to their sister or brother all before you leave the house at 7:45 AM.   As difficult as it is to say, our kids disappoint. We catch them in a lie or they blatantly disobey us.

We disappoint them too. And they let us know. There are days of friction and days when we lose our head. We don't let them go to that movie they were wanting to see; the one EVERYBODY else is going to see. We compare them to their brother, or their sister.  "Your sister has a much harder time with that, but at least she works hard at it". We do it even though we know better.

And even on days when both we and our children have pretty much done it right, there are forces outside our control that make for difficult days. Our kid suffers the actions of a thoughtless kid (or adult) and we have no idea how to go about bettering the situation. Do we email the teacher?  Try and diffuse the situation?

I can't tell you how many days we've struggled through one of those violent twenty-four hour stomach viruses with a trash basket and Sprite that won't stay down.  There's little you can do to bring comfort to your kids sometimes.

There are days a peck on the cheek won't help and a band aid won't fix it.

If only it were single days that parenting is tough. Sometimes we find ourselves in an entire season where parenting is out-right daunting; a season where time stands still and hope seems to move on ahead, nearly out of reach.

Finding ourselves up creek can be terrifying.

Having one of those "inquiring minds want to know" kind of minds, I wondered to myself where the term "up creek" comes from.

Come to find out, there's an actual creek, Haslar Creek in Portsmouth Harbor where wounded sailors were taken. "Up creek" was a Royal Naval Hospital where sailors in need of medical help were taken by tramline. Word has it that some tried to escape but found themselves "up creek without a paddle". I'm not making this stuff up. Just ask Wiktionary.

Days up creek without a paddle

Marooned like those sailors, we occasionally wish we could, with Enya, "Sail away, sail away, sail away"....at least for a weekend getaway.

We're stranded vessels; mom-shaped containers overflowing with fix-it methods, hugs and instructions, guidance and the recipe for their favorite cookies. And at the same time we often feel empty and worn out and without a clue; damaged like those sailors as Haslar Creek.

Like those sailors, we're at a place where there's help. Lucky for us, we have a God bigger than the universe that is able and willing to station himself up creek right with us on hard days.

Up creek is right where we find the help we need.

 2 Corinthians 4: 7{You see},  we have this treasure in earthen vessels,

And it's in times of great fatigue and failings that the treasure is revealed.

We find ourselves without a paddle to steer us.

 {But in time we'll experience}.... this all-surpassing power {that} is of God and not from ourselves;

{At times} 8we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing; 9persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed

And for seasons that we're stranded, a sea away from safety and answers, we're never without a guide.

Reminds me of a song.

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale
a tale of a fateful trip,
that started from this tropic port,
aboard this tiny ship.

The mate was a mighty sailin' man,
the Skipper brave and sure,
five passengers set sail that day,
for a three hour tour,
a three hour tour.

The weather started getting rough,
the tiny ship was tossed.
If not for the courage of the fearless crew
the Minnow would be lost.
The Minnow would be lost.

-Gilligan's Island Theme Song

Be fearless.  Be sure. We're never in this alone.

Remembering without ceasing your work of faith, and labor of love, and patience of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ, in the sight of God and our Father 1 Thessalonians 1:3

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I am uber-excited (never used the word "uber' before but wanted to show you I'm BEYOND excited) about our Sunday gathering.  Make plans to attend  "Dear Me" if at all possible. 

 I know of several sweet girls and moms who won't be able to make it because of  previously planned engagements.  There are also others of you on the other side of the screen who won't be able to attend like our friend Olivia in Florida and other friends and moms I've never met.  So.... I'm including our activities here on the website JUST FOR YOU. 

 

 To My Pre-Teen Friend 

http://kristiburden.com/?p=3335

This is a devotion that reminds our young girls that today isn't everything.  And we have hopes for a future that seems light years away.  They will be encouraged to share the things of "today" that bring worry, frustration and those things that can be all-consuming like "What shoes should I wear with this?".  They will learn that those things of today and the uncertainties and hopes of tomorrow are in the hands of the one who holds time and each one of us.

 

 

Dear Me in May

http://kristiburden.com/?p=3339e

The girls will fill in the blanks on a form  letter stating what some of their favorite things are and "what makes them so mad"....  The front side represents "who I am today" while the back side of the letter is reserved for tomorrow's hopes and a prayer.  The girls will be decorating time capsules in which these letters will be placed.  Each mom is also asked to write a letter to her daughter expressing what her hope and prayer is for her daughter in the next eight months.  The time capsules will be decorated in craft time, then tucked away until we have our May party.  I'll add pictures of the time capsules to the website soon.

Another Step in the Journey

http://kristiburden.com/?p=3411

This portion of our gathering will be done in small groups.  For our older girls fifth and up, this is a time to meet with their mentor.  This sheet has our focal verses Psalm 31:14-15.  This is a time to discuss the meaning of the verse in the context of our lives.  There is also an "at home" section with suggestions on how to make your own time capsule at home.

 

 

 

 

Hoping that girls near and far will participate in this fun event.  I would be beside myself if you came back and commented and told me about it. Or......if you sent me a picture...I might do a cartwheel.  Well maybe a front rollover.

Here's a link of gathering info. (time, place...) http://kristiburden.com/?p=3198

I'd love to hear from you kristiburden@gmail.com

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It's Solo Time

My brother David called me about a month ago saying he had found a picture; one he said could be used in my blog.  The picture is of the Iredell Drill Team around 1985.  This premier group of young ladies highlighted most every sporting event in our town.

Every right-aged girl in town was in the Iredell Dragon Drill Team.  I was a privileged member of this group. Anyone could be a part of the team, but certain skills were necessary to publicly perform.

I attended every practice.  I listened to the instructor and watched closely as she "step-ball-changed".   I also watched the girls beside me every chance I got; mimicking their moves the best I could.

There was a tryout for each routine.  Come tryout day I always marched and kicked nervously counting as I was taught; I carefully stepped the grapevine (the only move I seemed to have down).

The tryout procedure was- if you make three mistakes, you sit yourself out.  You don't perform at games and you don't go to competition. I always made three mistakes. I can remember performing a few times.  I suspect that I cheated on my mistake-counting those times.

I don't know if you were able to spot me in the picture above, but here's a hint.  I'm on the first row.

I'll give you an even better hint.

I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS HER LEGS CROSSED THE WRONG WAY.

Underneath that gorgeous gold uniform complete with fringe and the proud smile was a girl with two left feet  Even if my uniform made me look like a dancer, as soon as the music started to play the gig was up.

Too bad I didn't learn from my dance days.  I still find myself wanting to do what others are doing; closely mimicking their image and steps instead of being exactly who God made me to be.

I know I'm not the only one.

Those who have straight hair want curly, those who have curly hair want straight, those who have brown hair want their hair to be red. I remember being delighted when recently, hair with the big bump at the back of head became "the way to do your hair".  I have naturally big hair.  But for others "Bump-its" were available; a plastic piece hidden underneath fluffed hair so that you looked like you had a glorious full- head of hair.

The way we look is only one way we try to conform.  I want to sing in the choir.  I want to be funny.  I wish I could draw or paint well. 

There's absolutely nothing wrong with me singing in choir or taking painting lessons UNLESS it interferes with what God has equipped and called me to do. You will often serve in ways that are hard; doing things you're not good at-in His strength. But also pay attention to how God has uniquely put you together.

 If God has gifted you with a voice, sing for him. If you're a gifted performer, put on your fringed gold vest and skirt- and dance to his glory. 

Treasure the gifts that God has chosen specifically for you; he's the ultimate gift-giver. If you're convinced that you have no gifts or talents to share, you're underestimating Almighty God.  Seek Him.  He'll show you that you're wonderfully made and cherished just as you are.

The Lord your God is with you,

He is mighty to save.

He will take great delight in you,

He will quiet you with His love,

He will rejoice over you with singing.

Zephaniah 3:17

 

 

Listen for him too.

He sings a tune that only you can dance to.

 

 

 

 

So what's your story?  Consider sharing even if just a chapter.  There's beauty and sometimes learning, laughter and healing in the sharing. That's what "A Thursday for Your Thoughts" is all about.  If you'd rather share a recipe or favorite family event, we'd love that too.  It's as simple as sending me an email (and a couple of pictures if your technologically savvy).

Come back tomorrow as Jane Crain gives us a peek into her life.

I'd love to hear from you kristiburden@gmail.com