Last month there was a drug arrest for someone who lives two lefts and one right turn away from our development on Pittman road.

I don’t really like taking the Pittman road cutoff. It winds all around and you’re whiplashed back and forth from having to see trailer homes in disrepair plopped next to a castle-sized villa that looks like it dropped out of the sky straight from Tuscany.

But recently in studying the Psalms, I was told to pray for my city. So I started praying for Cumming.

And lately, knowing that someone desperate or broken enough to be dealing and using drugs is close by, I have felt compelled to make the turn and drive Pittman road praying as hard as I can with my eyes open as I drive down that road.

p.s.–I also will not shop in the evening at the Kroger where a car was stolen, and where thieves congregated then were chased on foot and captured by a police officer. If I must shop after dark, you will find me at the well-lit Publix that has not yet been reported in the local paper as the scene of any shenanigans.

I began looking up ticket prices, multiplied them by 6, added the processing fees and an extra $15 for parking. The Nutcracker  was almost 4 times more expensive here than it was in little ol’ Michigan last year. The Grinch…well, we didn’t have enough green stuff to go see his green self. But the Phineas & Ferb LIVE show was only a tiny bit outside of our reach.

I had the tickets ordered, in the cart, confirmed and ready to purchase. But I stopped to pray before clicking the button, and something made me hesitate.

The past 6 months been a non-stop nightmare of fiscal hemorrhaging. We’re committed to living debt-free, so we’ve been living on a strict budget, which gets exhausting. I dreamed of how it would be SO NICE to do something fun and indulgent together as a family where we didn’t have to think or worry about the expense.

I slammed my computer shut without purchasing the tickets and let the beautiful dream fade away, focusing instead on practicing contentment.

A few weeks ago I entered my name and “encouraged” Dan to enter his name as well to give us a double chance at winning a local drawing for tickets to go see the Phineas & Ferb LIVE show.

I forgot about entering the contest until I got an e-mail with a “what do you know–your name was chosen for the tickets to go see Phineas & Ferb LIVE!”

I threw back my head and laughed out loud. God truly cares. Even for indulgent desires like getting to go downtown and enjoy a kid’s show that has absolutely no religious attributes, redemptive value or moral emphasis to it. It’s just plain fun. Indulgent, funny fun-fun.

God cares. Even about the “little” things.

I’m thankful we were to WRITE a response to this question rather than have a verbal debate about it. I needed time to think on this one and do some research.

I ended up in the book of Daniel. Daniel was hand-picked to be in the king’s very highly esteemed education program. He was being trained and groomed for greatness. Yet he was a Christian. A strong one. And part of his training and education went against God’s law.

Despite being a Christian, Daniel was exemplary. And he was highly successful in his very public government position. He knew all about everything. He lived and worked for and with people who worshiped idols–I don’t think you can get any more secular than that! Yet he chose not to live the same way others were living and even asked to be excused from activities that went against his religion. And because he was respected, his requests were granted.

This translates to me as both a teacher and especially now as a mom in that I desire for kids to be well-informed, educated, aware of  the world around them, yet so rooted in their faith in God that they choose to honor him no matter what everyone else is saying or doing.

Don’t hear me wrong. I’m not saying “this is THE one and only way to raise kids”, I’m simply sharing my version of what I believe is how I am supposed to train up the kids I’ve been entrusted with in the way they are supposed to go. (Proverbs 22:6)

So while I’m not wild about some of the things my kids hear at school, on the bus, playground, soccer field or around the neighborhood I’m thankful that they don’t choose to repeat the words they hear. They are living differently. In the world, but not of the world.

And they’re being noticed. I stood in my kitchen and sobbed as I opened a letter from my son’s principal inviting us to a ceremony where he would be receiving an award for having exemplary character, citizenship, and for academic achievement. This came literally the day AFTER I had written my son a letter in regards to a deep disappointment he had caused us.

Over and over we are affirmed that how we are raising our kids is on point. I just pray that as we continue this parenting journey, we can remain faithful to the fact that the Bible always has the answer to any parenting scenario we stumble across, open to the fact that we still have much to learn, and intentional about the importance of surrounding ourselves with like-minded people who will share the wisdom they’ve gained in their own child-rearing experiences. And last but not least, the importance and power of prayer for these someday-grownups!

There was another mom who offered to help with the very time-consuming and sticky banana station. She didn’t really talk to me unless it was to ask for more bowls or a trash bag for the peels. During the rush of kids going through the line to get their banana splits, what I think was a neighborhood acquaintance of this other mom said “hello” to her and started offering her pleasantries asking how her husband was and such. I couldn’t hear every word of other mom’s response, but I was hearing enough and filling in the blanks to realize that she was informing neighborhood acquaintance about an impending divorce.

Neighborhood acquaintance asked something to the effect of how the kids were dealing with it, and other mom’s brazen response was “oh, it’s happening right now as we speak. We haven’t told them yet, we’ll tell them as soon as it’s done”.

If my heart could have audibly gasped, you would have heard the most bewildered groan ever. It’s almost Christmas, and you’re going to “surprise” your kids (one of which I gathered was a 3rd grade boy) with this devastating news?

Neighborhood acquaintance must have offered condolences or an “I’m so sorry” of some sort, but other mom next to me simply shrugged her shoulders and nonchalantly said, “hey, that’s life”.

That nearly made me scream, it was all I could do to see straight and not lop off my own finger while slicing the bananas from then on. My soul was screaming “NO! It isn’t ‘just life’–to shrug your shoulders like it’s no big deal that you’re breaking up a family. Do you have ANY idea how damaging this is going to be for your kids? I rescued a child from a broken family, and it’s heartbreaking. A child not having a mom AND a dad is NOT how it should be, and it is not what any child wants–especially for Christmas! If there is any way, anything within you that can keep this from happening, why wouldn’t you try? Why are you giving up so easily and playing it off like your car is about to get scratched, when in reality it’s more like you are all about to be in a near-fatal accident?”

Maybe my heart is extra tender right now because my dear friend (who is from a divorced family and STILL dealing with the repercussions of the divorce more than 20 years later, and now her own kids are being affected too) shared recently that one of her neighbors was also throwing in the towel much too quickly and easily on a marriage where kids would pay the consequences, and how despondent she felt knowing what was in store for those kids. Or maybe its because I’m reading Jim Daly’s book “Finding Home” right now, where abandonment and death wreaked havoc on his young life.

I just groaned for the kids. This is going to be a ROUGH life for them. Talk about unfair, and kids having to pay for the sins of their fathers & mothers. Despite not knowing other mom’s name, her life, her situation, her husband, or her kids I was deeply troubled by the two minute exchange I witnessed.

Pouring this out to God in the van as I left the school and holding back tears, I attempted to find something good in this situation. I couldn’t think of much, but here’s what little I could come up with.

I’m thankful that the little boy whose parents are going to surprise him with the news of their divorce is in the same grade as my son. My little boy is intuitive, sensitive, and kind. And if in the future this other little boy ever needs a safe place to be, where the complications of his home life are shut outside the walls so he can just be a kid, then knowing my son is his ticket into our safe and steady home.

As I sit in church and watch baptisms and listen to the stories that led many of the kids to the deep decision they have made to profess their faith in Christ, a surprisingly large number of them stemmed from family trauma and hurt, and the willingness of friends or neighbors to come alongside these kids and fill a void or a bind wound that was dealt them unfairly in their youth.

If there is any consolation and redemption to be had, I desire  and am willing for it to be in my home and on my watch. Maybe I was splitting bananas so my heart would be more open, tender, and aware of the hurts happening all around me and my kids that we can help soothe and bear in the days, weeks, and years ahead right here where God has placed us.

Every time I went into the pantry, I could smell it a little bit stronger. I knew there was a rotten potato in there somewhere. But finding the offending tuber would mean taking time to take all the bags of spuds out of the pantry, putting them on the countertop, and going through each bag to find the mushy stinker.

Did I mention that I probably had 15 pound of sweet potatoes in there that I purchased for the low, low price of 28 cents per pound before Thanksgiving? That’s a lot of potatoes.

And the smell of a rotten potato is vomitous. It’s all I can do to get the fuzzy, slimy, dripping thing to the trashcan without my gag reflex kicking in and my lunch gurgling in my throat threatening to revisit.

But you and I both know full well that if those wonderfully nutrient rich meant-to-nourish-my-family potatoes are left as they are in the pantry with the rotter in the midst of them, they’re going to stink up the whole thing. Ruin all 15 pounds of the other potatoes they’re touching. Infiltrate the other foods in the pantry or smell so bad no one will be able to come near it. Create mold in the pantry that might creep into the walls and ruin the entire house if left totally alone and allowed to keep going and growing.

It’s kind of like the Christian life, isn’t it. We might get a nudge from the holy spirit, a sense that something is a little bit off, a little warning whiff that something in our life isn’t in pristine condition. But we sigh and think about the work it’s going to take to root out the offensive habit or the sin that’s worked its way into our daily routine and know how hard it’s going to be to “go there” and do the work to get rid of it. When left to stagnate, it gets putrid, sometimes embarrassing, and certainly not something you post on your wall or Tweet about–”Hey everyone, rather than dealing with my insecurities I’ve shopped us into debt!#imagemanagement” or “I just got fired because I’m lazy and did nothing but complain at at work, disregard the story that I told you about unjustly being let go due to ‘downsizing’#liar”.

So tomorrow, I’m determined that I’m going to head into the pantry. Do the hard work of taking out the reeking bags and painstakingly going through the potatoes to find the offending one(s) and see how much needs to be thrown out and how much is still salvageable. Wash the untainted potatoes and carefully re-stow them back in the pantry until we’re ready to eat them.

There’s another place I’m determined to storm into and do some hard work and cleaning as well. And it’s a lot more important than my pantry and those sweet potatoes.

Dear Friend,

I’m super nervous about sharing this post, but I’ve really felt compelled to be an authentic parent. So, here goes…

Recently I had to write a tough letter to one of my children. I had to go the letter route since it seemed my spoken words were falling on deaf ears. And in our house household “I didn’t hear you” or “I forgot” is not a valid excuse for wrongdoing.

I’m sharing this letter because there may be some of you out there tearing out your hair not knowing what to do with kids that are too big for a timeout yet too little to benefit from having the car keys taken away and being grounded. Here’s our middle ground and how we felt the “punishment fit the crime”, so to speak, in a recent discipline situation that we found ourselves in.

Dear child,

Recently I asked you not to read any further in your school library book unless you were reading it out loud with either Dad or I.

Because of the fact that you did not to what I asked and instead you chose to continue to read the book on your own, you have lost my trust. This is a big disappointment to me. The good news is, you can regain my trust, but it will take some time and extra effort on your part. (I’ve made a list below)

What we read influences us. It can be for good, like when we read the Bible or an inspiring story. Or it can be bad, too, if we choose to read things containing bad language, violence, unkindness or in this case a series that talk a lot about sorcery and witchcraft. It is so important that we make wise choices in how we spend our time, and what we put into our minds by reading.

In the Bible, Phillipians 4:8 tells us “And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.”

We want to encourage you to read good books that are well-written and fit the verse above–that they are true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and worthy of praise.

Dad and I have decided that this is what you need to do as you work to regain our trust:

1. Return ALL library books and materials–to school and to the public library.

2. Only read books from our home or that we have picked out for you from the public library.

3. Keep a book that Dad or I have approved in your backpack to read on the bus/at school.

4. When you check a book out from the school library, you may not read it until you have brought it home and checked with Dad or I first to make sure it is appropriate for you to read.

5. Within one week, please use a dictionary to look up and write out the definition of the 8 words listed in Philippians 4:8.

6. Memorize Philippians 4:8 and be able to recite it whenever we ask you to. We will memorize it along with you. (You might want to write it on a notecard and use it as your bookmark, practicing it every time you pick up your book to read)


We love you very much, dear one. It’s your choice whether or not you want to apologize for making a bad choice and going through the process to make it right by working hard to earn our trust back.

If you have any questions or want to talk to us about anything in this letter, you know where we live!

Love,

Mom

I had Dan review the letter and agree that it was appropriate and the he was on board before I printed it out and laid the book and letter on my child’s bed so that they could discover and read it privately and process it quietly in their room.

The “discovering the book that was not-supposed-to-be-read yet was still-being-read-covertly” event unfolded  at night as our child was headed to bed (and so were we). It was the end of the day and we were all tired, so being tired + being disappointed = NOT the right time to figure out an appropriate consequence. In my scant 8 years of parenting, I’ve come to realize that it’s ok if it takes some time for you to figure out a logical consequence for the older, wiser kids. And although I  truly wish there was an app that would allow me to type in a child’s “offense” and have it tell me how to react and discipline/train/redirect my child, there isn’t. There’s just me and Dan and God’s word and a myriad of parenting books and the wise counsel of community peppered with common sense and our God-given ability to parent the children we have been given.

Each of my four children are complicated. Each one needs to be parented differently, according to their unique and individual temperaments. If I were to give this same letter to any of my other children, the reactions might vary from a dramatic scene of a slammed door with wracking sobs of anguish to be heard for at least an hour while I wouldn’t put it past one of my other precious darlings to rip up my letter and eat it while staring daggers at me, then releasing a mighty, rage-filled scream before causing damage to a wall in our home followed by drenching us in a few hours of silence and angry stares.

But because I’ve studied my children, I know that this child needed exactly this. A clear explanation of what went wrong, how to ask for forgiveness and the steps to restitution.

We love each of our kids way too much to let them slip in small ways in these younger years. You might read this and think, “man, this is harsh. It was just a little book!” but we feel that if left undisciplined, we could be setting our precious child up to think it’s alright for them to slide through the doorways to bigger, badder decisions with worser consequences in their tween and teen years.

So although this morning was tough as my child realized an unfinished book they desperately wanted to read and look at had already been returned to the library per the consequences of last week’s actions, I am hopeful that in the long run they  might someday look back and be thankful for parents who cared enough to correct and re-direct in their younger years saving them from worse consequences than having to choose books from mom & dad’s reading list for a few months.

I have to admit, this “punishment” has been a great reminder to me that I need to be modeling wise choices, reading things that are good and lovely and pure and …well, guess I need to keep working on memorizing that verse too. I enjoyed spending some time at the library the other day looking for the “good” and “inspiring” books not just for my child, but also for myself.

I’m so thankful for a God who knows I will make wrong choices and disappoint Him, yet every time I mess up He allows me to say I’m sorry, immediately forgives me, and gives me a chance to take the steps to make it right with Him. That basic principle has been key to how I parent my kids, and I hope you’ll find it helpful in your next parenting dilemma too. Because there’s sure to be one coming…they never stop coming!

Stay close to the Lord,

Jenna

One winter night a few years ago I just couldn’t wait for my girls to grow up enough to begin reading them so I piled them next to my bed and plowed them all through again.

At about the same time that I was reading “Little Town on the Prairie” and got to the part where Laura desperately wanted little name cards to exchange with her friends, Dan had just gotten his business card freshly reprinted bearing his new title at work.

I’ll be honest: I have desperately missed the working world, having a title, a paycheck, a context, an answer to the question everyone asks me, and something to define me. After having babies and suffering from PPD and getting very involved in and connected with the PPD world of support groups, mom groups, medical groups etc I decided that despite being a stay-at-home mom I, too, needed name cards.

I found a deal where cards were free and I only had to pay $3 and some change for shipping. I designed a cute little card and waited anxiously for its arrival.

I have never spent $3 so well. I probably gave out 100 of those little cards. To moms for playdates, to people looking to find resources on PPD, more recently to fellow adoptive families we ran into, to friends and family.

Those 3.5 x 2 little rectangles gave me the most immense amount of pleasure and ease with which to share my information. Not to mention it didn’t matter whether or not I had a pen on me and I never had to worry that the person I was giving my info to couldn’t read my doctor-esque scrawl!

When we moved to Georgia, the fourth thing I did after unpacking toilet paper, bedding, and the French press was to hop online and order new cards with my new address, phone number and e-mail address.

I have never been happier that I did this. It’s made it easy to give people my contact information for potential play dates, coffee talk, a connection that could turn into a job someday, or just plain someone that might remember running into me if they ever need me for any reason. And almost everyone who has gotten one has been delighted to giggle and say, “Oh, a mom card! How fun!”

So, I’ve got my mom card. Do you?

She whined that, “everyone else got to read books today, but it takes me so long that write that I didn’t get to read a book because I was still trying to finish”.

Immediately Justice Jenna kicked in. I do not like to hear that some kids got something that other kids did not. Especially when one of MY kids was in the group that had something that she wanted withheld from her! I have to admit, though, that I completely agree with and use this tactic myself in our home all the time, it just immediately elicits my knee-jerk reaction of “justice for all!”

I asked her if she was the only one that was writing while everyone else was reading. No, it was like me and 5 other people.

Were you talking and not getting your work done? NO. I WASN’T talking, I was working as hard as I could!

Why it took her longer than most everyone else to write. Because it takes me longer to sound out the words and figure out how to spell them.

If she finally finished it or if she had to bring it home for homework. Yes, I finished it.

Ok, so justice was served and no fault occurred. BUT clearly my daughter has recognized that she struggles with an area that at least 15 or more of her other classmates do not.

In my mind I’ve already decided that this will be a “make-up” year for Elli. In Michigan Kindergarten is only a 1/2 day program, whereas in Georgia it’s an all day every day program. Elli started out this first grade year quite a bit behind her classmates academically. As a matter of fact, when tested the first week of school her teacher assessed her as a “non reader”. Yikes! That just means she’s going to have to work harder and we’re going to have to do more coaching at home to help get her all caught up.

Although she deplores writing, she will do so in the context of something social. We play “school” a lot, where she is the teacher instructing either myself or a smaller sibling. She has taken to reading and loves to listen to chapter books (again, she’s social and wants to read with someone, read to someone, or be read to rather than read on her own, unlike her big brother who loves to read so much he spends forever in the bathroom with a book, then when caught and sent to bed can be found trying to read by the light of his alarm clock or a keychain flashlight).

Yesterday I crawled the clearance aisle of Wal-Mart in search of a journal or “diary” for Elli to begin writing in. (Note: it was very challenging to find something that was not trademarked or that was appropriate for her age group. Although I love me some quirky word pictures, I don’t think my 6 almost 7 year old daughter needs a notebook with a picture of pursed lips + the word “me” underneath it. See “Smooch” post) I also found a pack of fun pens that she alone gets to use for writing in her journal. Having heard all about the “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” books from her big brother, she was elated at the idea of having her very own diary to write in.

She sat down at the kitchen table and began to write, then asked if she could take the notebook outside and write some more until the neighborhood kids arrived to play and the book was abandoned. And forgotten. Until it started to pour.

My poor, sobbing daughter. At least she’ll have some great stuff to write about as soon as the notebook dries out…

P.S.-Dan attended a parent-teacher conference for Elli the same afternoon that she received this notebook, and there was nothing but positivity from her teacher. The teacher stated that Elli started out the year as a non-reader and in just two months has already progressed to being a growing reader. Elli’s writing is readable and understandable, and  she affirmed that we’re doing something right and to just keep doing what we’re doing that she is right on the mark of where she should be at this point in first grade. WHEW! She’s caught up already, now to help her maintain and keep going!

The day 7 shot was a God-send.

I called my regular physician and left a long and rambling message to see if they could help me find a place, other than the mega expensive trip the downtown ER again, to receive my rabies injection: I was having a hard time finding a place in Michigan that had any rabies serum other than emergency rooms, which are $$$ and did not want to administer them to a walk-in since they had them in stock for “emergencies only”.

In a shocking turn of events, my doctor’s office called me back to let me know that another patient at the practice had been undergoing a rabies series and never came in to get their 5th injection. The serum was not yet expired and I could come in to their office and have it administered by a nurse there. Praise God, an easy one! This shot was in my left arm, and I had to sit for 30 min at the doctors office to be observed to ensure I did not have a reaction to the injection. Hmmm…none of the other places made me sit and observed me for a reaction…

Day 14 took place while we were in Chicago. Friends had gifted us a hotel room so we could have some fun family time together after finishing our job at the church but before moving to our new location. I typed the address of the hospital (I had already called to verify had rabies serum in stock) into my GPS and put on my brave face. I found the hosptial, parked, went in and took a deep breath as I told my story. “I got bit by a bat and need to get the next shot in my rabies series…”

Because I was from out of state and because my doctor was as well, a doctor certified in the state of Illinois had to re-write my prescription so that I could get the shot. Apparently bat bites in Chicago are common–the nurses told me they had tons of vaccine here and regularly gave this series of shots. Yikes! This time my shot was in my right arm.

My fifth and final shot took place in Oklahoma, where the kids and I stayed with my parents for the month of July while Dan traveled the country hosting summer camps. Because we were not yet in the state of Georgia, where our new insurance covers us, and because we were no longer covered by our “old” insurance we had to do everything out-of-pocket as if we had no insurance.

I had to be seen by a doctor licensed in the state of OK and have him re-write my prescription yet again in order to have my shot administered. My parents’ physician agreed to see me and re-wrote my script. I was the first person he had ever met that had actually been bit by a bat. Yay me!

I took my final prescription to the Urgent Care center and breezed right through, having already pre-paid for the shot at the discounted no-insurance rate (somewhere in the $200 range instead of the usual $1500)

For some reason, that shot was very painful and I was cranky and my left arm hurt quite a bit, but I was thankful to finally be done with this whole crazy process, and told my dad that he was no longer allowed to call me “Batgirl”.THE END.

(Or at least I thought it was until the bills started coming. My first ER visit was nearly $4,000. More bills to come…)

To complete my rabies series, I would need to get injections 4 days after my original shot, 7 days after, 14 days after and 28 days after.

Kind of a pain, but REALLY a pain if:

• No medical entities in Michigan had the serum in stock and could administer the rabies shot except for the ER downtown (and it took nearly 20 phone calls to find this out)
• The family and I were headed to church camp the next day and would be in the boonies hours away from home and without cell coverage (unless you were standing in the middle of the soccer field) when the day 4 injection needed to take place
• I would be in Chicago when the day 14 injection needed to take place
• My husband’s job would be changing hence our medical insurance would be changing right in the middle of my series of injections
• I would be in Oklahoma when the day 28 injection needed to happen and the new insurance would only cover me if I were physically in the state of Georgia

It was excruciatingly frustrating to have to try to figure out how, when, and where to get these shots on the exact dates they needed to happen and in the locations that I would be on those dates. I can’t tell you how many hours I spent making phone calls to hospitals, ER’s, med centers, doctor’s offices, pharmacies, and the insurance company to get each and every poke procured.