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Your child repeatedly awakens you to answer questions, and with the exception of peeking one eye open for “suspicious” inquiries, you can answer each one without interrupting your sleep.
October 26, 2012
July 24, 2012
Her Two Cents
It was that time in church again- the part of the servic
e where we are expected to give after hopefully getting something out of the sermon.
“Give what you have purposed in your heart to give,” reminded the deacon in his weekly recital of 2 Corinthians 9:7.
Today, after another weekly ritual of paying bills, I made a purpose to give $2.
As the collection plate came around, I purposefully put my $2 into it.
However, God Had another purpose. After the sermon, He Continued To Teach me a lesson about giving.
Immediately after I put in my two bucks, my pre-schooler decided to add her two cents, by dipping her hand into my still open purse. She pulled out the first bill she saw out of her sudden “handbag,” and put it into the collection plate as well.
She looked at me happy that she was able to participate in the service, and proud that she remembered to share.
I looked at the collection plate resisting the urge to swipe it back.
That is because the first bill she saw was a $20 bill – ten times more than my original purpose.
My pre-schooler didn’t yet know the difference between monetary denominations, but regardless of my religious denomination, I was still expected to give.
I am aware of the controversy on the church’s position and teachings on giving and its accusations of “fleecing the sheep.”
Despite the arguments for and against, you can’t argue with God’s Word.
`And to everyone who is asking of thee, be giving; and from him who is taking away thy goods, be not asking again’ Luke 6:30.
So glad I didn’t dip my hand back into the collection plate.
We worship a God Who Tells us to give to even our enemies to fulfill God’s True Purpose.
`Give, and it shall be given to you; good measure, pressed, and shaken, and running over, they shall give into your bosom; for with that measure with which ye measure, it shall be measured to you again.’ Luke 6:38
I left church with my purse a little lighter, but my heart a lot fuller, because I was happy and proud too.
For giving.
As a parent, there are a lot of things I teach my daughter about life. As a child, there are a lot of things she teaches me about love.
I have to own up to some of my wrongs against her:
- false accusation (I was just sure she made another mess)
- losing my temper and/or patience (don’t worry, I always find it)
- inflicting pain (I honestly didn’t see her when I turned around)
When I consider what I owe my daughter for my wrongs, all I can do is apologize.
Her response? “That’s OK mommy, I just love you.” (I could go on and on about how wonderful of a mom she says I am, but I guess it’s unnecessary to mention it here:)
Lesson learned? My daughter has forgiven my debts as God Has Forgiven mine.
Thankfully, God Loves us both too.
April 26, 2011
Need to PP?
Now that Easter has passed, this holiday was a reminder to not let my parental duties cloud my paternal instincts. I told myself I wouldn’t do it. I refused to take any part of it – the marketing hype of the holiday. But no one told me that the peer pressure of the teens grows into parental pressure as an adult. I don’t have to look good…but my child does and that makes me look good. That darn vicious circle of life. I wanted my daughter to look the best…ever…
It started off innocently enough. I was in the mall all holiday weekend – walking for my health however, not in haste as a last minute shopper scavenger gleaning the racks for what was left or picked over. But then it hit me.
My daughter is going to be around kids in church and playing with kids after church all Easter daylong in their Sunday and playtime best. I want her to look the best in the front pew of the church and in the front yard. So that Saturday, after Good Friday, and before Sunrise Service, I skipped the mall walk and ran from store to store as yet another dangerous shopper scavenger. (If we were on the endangered list, the world would be a better place). I was flooded with adrenaline that morning as I had time to beat. That afternoon, I was filled with depression as now time was beating the hope out of me. Acceptance set in for a while as I realized I may not find THE DRESS and we may have to glean the racks of her closet sifting through outgrown clothes like weeds. My gas tank was now half full and the clothes racks were now half empty. But then – joy came that evening when I found the cutest little dress in her size!
My daughter, a tot, had been in tow throughout the entire shopping/scavenging experience – my babysitter is a shopper scavenger too (speaking of that endangered list, better place idea). She was tired and hungry for food that she could eat in a chair and not in her carseat by the time we found THE ONE. She no doubt has it drilled in her mind that this is how we’re supposed to shop, so I may have created another shoppper scavenger generation as she now has step by step instructions.
Easter morning, my daughter announces that she’s sick. Oh well, maybe this new dress will make you feel better, I think. Instead of standing in the mirror, she goes and lies down. I’m annoyed because she just wrinkled her dress. We make it to church. We had to move from one of the front pews to the back out of sight because she was whining that she was uncomfortable. Who’s going to see her dress? Didn’t she get the memo that kids are to be seen and not heard?
We finally make it home. I grab my phone for pictures to mass broadcast to the family, but she’s not interested in posing in her new dress because a few minutes later, she was puking all over it. I had no idea she was really sick! Well, at least the dress is washable.
Had I not turned from a parent to a scavenger, I would have put her to bed that morning instead of becoming a child exploiter in in church in front of God and my pastor. She’s fine now, but it took a clothes washing and a furniture scrubbing to be reminded that holidays are just another day of the week.
yalandarose 