School Report; Could Try Harder

Drawing near to the end of term, not only brings on severe cases of End-of-Term-Itis, it also brings the delight that is 'Non-Competitive Sport's Day', teacher present buying and of course school reports. Sport's day; I just won't comment on, apart from to say that I jolly well cheered hard for my son as he didn't compete against anyone. Teacher present buying; I sent the kids into school as spies on a mission. They had to find out what their teachers and teaching assistants liked, but in a more subtle way than "What do you want my mum to buy you?" Restaurant vouchers, clothes vouchers, posh chocolate and alcohol seemed to cover everyone. 

And then there's the school reports and final chats with the teachers. You kind of want to stroke the teachers, say 'Well Done' to them, get them a duvet and let them sit in a darkened room somewhere. But instead you ask them to explain what the numbers and letters mean and how well your child has done and what they could improve on. You have to be able to read 'Teacher Code', when analysing the reports. Knowing my dear boys, I add my own interpretations when I read "lively and outgoing", "a great sense of humour" and "contributes well with regard to Christianity and sharing his own experiences".

There are joys too, when I read 'personable', 'shows respect', 'polite', and 'team player', as I know that some of that is down to training. You know, the every day stuff that you train and train and train and train, until eventually it shows up on a school report or even better 'out in public'. They need to work harder at some things, especially the dull old details of spelling and punctuation, and a little less silliness here and there. There's always ways for them to improve their learning and there's things to congratulate them on.

I asked the boys to do me a school report; how well I've done this term as a mum. A brave and stupid task. I didn't bribe them with snacks as they answered. But I was in a relatively stable emotional state as I listened at the door. Apparently I'm doing well at 'serving my husband and children, making meals, disaplining (Okay, so the teacher may be right about the spelling) and being a mum'. I can live with that. But apparently I do need to 'shout less and work on my gentleness, and self-control'. Ha ha how perceptive these little people are. Can't keep much from them. A fair assessment I'd say.

We had a good chat about the reports. I explained that I was just as interested in the character bits as much as the results and grading. Got to love working on the 'heart stuff'. And we spoke about God's view of us; how we were His enemies; evil sinners who were far away from Him. And how He loved us when we were like that, and how Jesus' death on the cross meant that we can now be His adopted sons and daughters and come close to Him.

We chatted too, about how perfect our Heavenly Father is compared to us. He doesn't need to work on His self-control or silliness. He doesn't shout at us and I reckon His spelling is outstanding too. There is always going to be heart stuff for God to work on in us. He wants us to be more like Jesus and live more of a life of worship to Him. One day we will all have to stand before Him as He reads every detail of our report to us. Gulp! And then He will accept us in or turn us away, based on whether we accepted Jesus' and lived for Him, or not. It's good to ask Him what areas He'd like us to glorify Him in more. Thankfully though, He never writes 'Could Try Harder' over us. Instead in His grace, He writes over our reports, in blood-red letters, 'Accepted', 'Redeemed', 'Restored' and 'Forgiven'. That's surely one to frame and tell everyone about!

"Blessed are those
whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered."
Romans 4v7                                        

"A person may think their own ways are right,
but the Lord weighs the heart.

 To do what is right and just is more acceptable to the Lord than sacrifice." Proverbs 21v2-3

End-of-Term-Itis

Looking at my latest blog entry, I see that it was quite some time ago. I could happily sit here and tell you that's it's because I've been busy with life; the kids, the husband, the friends, the church etc. I could say I've been so busy loving all the above people that I couldn't possibly prise myself away from the fun and training and imparting, in order to write. But that would be what we call a lie.

Two of the boys have come down heavily with a dose of  end-of-term-itis; they're not just tired, they are beyond tired. And they are hot and sweaty and grubby and tearful and cross and fed up and overwhelmed and over emotional, and I totally get where they are coming from! I can relate to this terrible disease. It's one that really knocks you down, and vitamins don't shift it, just long periods of sleep, which is hard to come by these days. When a mum is suffering with end-of-term-itis, and she comes into contact with two little people suffering from it too, it's not a pretty sight. So my parenting game plan has been on the defensive; 'react to what they're doing and just try to survive the match'. Somewhere over the last few weeks, I have forgotten that my job is to love them and train them, and I have re written my job description as 'Just get through 'til bedtime'. I've been scared to parent them, knowing that they are just going to kick off and walk away from me or they're going to burst out crying. Or I am.

Now I know that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. But knowing it and living in the truth of it are two different things. I haven't been coming to Him in the kind of way which seeks Him, and spends time with Him and reads His word, or even just falls on Him humbly, sincerely asking for help. For some reason, I have decided that I can tackle this end-of-term-itis without God's help. Tackling anything with a strong burst of pride, is never going to cure anything. I just know I can't do the parenting, the wife-ing and the serving, without walking closely with Jesus. And I can't blog either. I can't write about grace when Im not living in it.

Last Tuesday, I had one of those 'sob-in-your-breakfast-bowl-I-can't-do-this-anymore' moments in front of the family. They graciously prayed for me, and then the husband left for Berlin for a few days. (Ha ha ha...silently rock in a darkened room). It was then that end-of-term-itis was either going to wipe this whole family out, and the husband was going to come home to a mess, or this mum was going to ask God to coach her, and change the parenting game plan to being on the offensive; 'plan beforehand and win this match', which mainly involved prayer, and water balloons. And of course, He did coach me. But more importantly I remembered that He also substituted Himself for me, and that it is by His grace I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Psalm 145 has been my friend during end-of-term-itis. Remembering what my coach is like, has helped me play the parenting game much better. 

 "The Lord is gracious and full of compassion, Slow to anger and great in mercy. The Lord is good to all, and His tender mercies are over all His works. The Lord upholds all who fall, and raises up all who are bowed down." Psalm 145v8,9,14

May The Force Be With You

One of my boys was feeling a little melancholy the other evening. He had had a couple of days off from school, due to being sick and running a high temperature, and he was feeling nervous to go back. He couldn't quite explain his thoughts or feelings, he just felt a bit sad and teary and his head was full of sad thinking. He has felt like this before, where his mind has doubted our love, and it all just 'feels sad', even though he's actually pretty secure in our love for him. How often do I doubt my Father in Heaven's love, without reason to?

So we have a new strategy when his thoughts are a bit negative and glum; we've combined the wisdom of The Bible with the imagery of Star Wars, as you do. After all, his name is an Old Testament prophet and a Jedi Knight....The force is strong with this one!

We looked at the second part of 2 Corinthians 10v5;

"We pull down every proud obstacle that is raised against the knowledge of God; we take every thought captive and make it obey Christ".

 



To take something captive, suggests that it is an actual 'action' we need to do, not just something which happens. So we wondered where we could lock these negative thoughts up; where there was a good prison. And we decided that Jabba the Hutt's palace was a good place to keep something locked up. So that's what we do, we grab each of these untrue thoughts and we shove them in Jabba's captivity.

 

The funny element tends to help break him out of his melancholy. And it helps our very visual boy, see these thoughts being locked up. Now I'm aware that this verse is actually about Paul defending God and the arguments which were being raised against Him, and I have explained this to my son. He has a few friends at school who don't think God is real, so he does know what this verse means. But I think it is important to train him to take both kinds of thoughts captive.

 

We then encourage our boy to fill his mind with things "which are good and that deserve praise: things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and honourable" as it suggests in Philippians 4. In other words, we encourage him to think about God before he sleeps, to think about all the good things God has done for him and how much God loves him, and we pray for God's help. I needed to do this myself this week. I found myself dwelling in untruths, and I was left feeling glum and full of self pity as a result. So I wrote a page of Truths about God in my journal; He is my hiding place, my strength, my refuge etc and it helped shift my thoughts off of me and back to my Heavenly Father's love, Jesus' victory on the cross, and the awesome power of the Holy Spirit at work in me, which afterall, is always going to be the best Force to have with me.

See what I did there?! 

You Are So Annoying

I was blown away by Charlie yesterday. He was ever so selfless, over and over again, when frankly his little sister just didn't deserve it. I was impressed with how he didn't tire of it, apart from the odd eye raise. I guess it might be easier to be consistently selfless when you're a cartoon. You see, Lola, the little sister, spent all her money at the Zoo. She also ate all her lunch and she used all the film on her camera. But her big brother Charlie helped her out. He gave her some of his lunch, he let her use his camera and he bought her a cuddly seal at the zoo shop, even though it meant he couldn't get the book he had been saving for.

Of course, my boys knew that they weren't going to get away with just watching it, without a little 'voice over teaching point' from mum. I pointed out what I could see happening, and they nodded, either to humour me or because the 'selfless' thing is one we plug a lot in this family. Towards the end of the programme, Lola had learnt from her brother's example. She ended up saving her money and giving it to Charlie, who was able to buy an even better book for himself. I spoke to the bigger boys about how they can be an example for their younger brothers to copy. And I acknowledged that younger siblings can be annoying, like Lola was. I  seem to remember poking my big brother constantly until he would whip me with a wet tea towel, and then get in trouble for it. Younger siblings just help people grow in love and patience!

After watching it, one of the younger siblings explained that he felt his older brothers didn't love him much because they don't give him a lot of time. I asked his older brothers how they could respond to this. One of them took the teaching point and put it into practise. The other one ignored the whole thing to the point where I'm not even sure he knows he has brothers. Anyway, off they went upstairs to play together. I encouraged the older one, reminding him that he was imitating Jesus, not just Charlie; that Jesus is the most selfless person there is. That He gave up His own life for us. He got it. Point made.

A few minutes in and the younger sibling sought to test his older brother's newly found kindness. I heard shouts of "No, no, please don't touch that bit of Lego, please, NO NO. Ggggrrrrr, YOU ARE SO ANNOYING". As I got upstairs, I found a cross older one and a smug smaller one, with broken up Lego in his hand. The moment was over. I understood the older one's frustration, and told him so. I released him from playing with his brother and told him that it's hard to be selfless all the time, but it is how Jesus wants us to be. I missed a trick though, and didn't mention that it's the Holy Spirit who helps us to imitate Jesus. It's the Holy Spirit that helps us to love annoying siblings too. I wonder in this house of five children, if there will be another opportunity to talk through 'being selfless'? Yeah I reckon so....

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves,  not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others."
Philippians 2v3-4

"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness...."
Romans 8v26

Father's Day

So today is Father's Day; a day to celebrate fathers. For some, this day brings joy and fun and thankfulness. But for others, it's either not relevant or it's painful in some way. Maybe dad wasn't great, or he's unknown. Maybe he left. Maybe he was never around. Maybe he never cared. Or maybe it's harder than anyone can ever imagine! Maybe dad was wonderful, but he died too soon, and he's missed every day, not just today. Maybe for some mums, they're so busy bringing up their kids alone, that Father's Day is a bit of a joke to them. And then there are those who would love to be a father or once were, and those who father alone.

For me, I am grateful for a dad who loves me now and cared for me, as a child. When the midwife saw my dad 'still' cuddling me, she told him he was going to spoil me, and his reply was that he fully intended to. I was his 'little peanut'. To my mum's dismay, he used to push me far too high on the swings. He taught me to drive and came and rescued me when I ran out of petrol, again and again. He used to walk me to the Off License on a Friday night for a packet of m&ms. He made me the perfect bacon sarnies. He helped me plan for a trip to Uganda, without telling mum. (That's another story!) He took me to my first football match, well it was QPR, but close enough and he bought me my first VW Beetle. He walked me down the aisle. And he continues to father me, whilst being a crazy grandad to my children. My slightly sarcastic tone of humour, and the ability to find the funny side of things in most situations is from him too and also my secret love for The Travelling Wilburys, but don't tell the husband.

Now I actually forgot to get my dad a Father's Day card. How bad is that? Thankfully, he is on holiday so by the time I buy a reduced one tomorrow and send it off, he will never know it was late! He definitely deserves to get a card, a small gesture of thanks. I guess I'm so secure in His love for me, that I probably take him, and my mum for granted. And what about my Heavenly Father, does he deserve a reduced card thanking Him for all He has done for me? Or does He deserve so much more? There is no amount of praise and worship that I could bestow on Him, that would be considered enough. What He has done for me and given me, is amazing; His love, His grace, His forgiveness, His mercy, my name in His book of life, an eternal heritage, His adoption of me, His joy, His strength. The list goes on and on. And although I'm thankful to my dad for all he has done for me, it actually pails into insignificance when I look at what Abba Father has done for me.

Wonderfully, this amazing fathering isn't just for me. It's for those who never had a dad, or those who had a lousy dad or those whose dad walked out on them or their kids. Even the amazing dads, the ones who love and care, their love still falls a million miles short of the steadfast love of God, and that is worth my thanks and praise.

 

For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
 as far as the east is from the west,
so far does he remove our transgressions from us.
As a father shows compassion to his children,
so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.

Psalm 103v11-13

Be Prepared

So my half term antics were a lot calmer this time round, because for the most part of it I only had three out of the five with me. I'm not saying that having three kids is calm, neither is having two or even one for that matter. But any less than the maximum number, usually makes a great difference in this house. At the beginning of the week, the husband and his brother, took my biggest two off to climb Snowdon, in treacherous, adventurous, 'mum's not here, so let's keep climbing' type weather.

They had waterproofs with them, warm clothing, spare trousers and hoodies, maps of the mountain, climbing boots, head torches, thermal socks, Ben 10 aliens and snacks. So they were pretty well prepared, even though the husband forgot his spare trousers so ended up at the pub in the evenings, in his pyjamas. (I only packed for the boys, so no comment) It sounds like it wasn't the easiest climb, with poor visibility, sideways hail storms and crying boys. The two men ended up carrying a terrified child each on their shoulders, headlong into the icy wind, for quite a long way back down the mountain to safety.

I was pretty well prepared too, for the glorious, sunny day in the garden, which I was having back home. I had made a shady tent for baby to play in. I had suncreamed the littlest ones. I had given out ice creams. I had the juice ready for when they asked. I had set up Happyland, and I had positioned the sun lounger exactly where I wanted it, turning it to face the sun every so often. I had thought about sending a photo of all this to the husband, but had decided against it.

I was prepared in the evening too; tv remote, glass of white, and a bar of hazlenut chocolate, just before fluffing the pillows on both sides of the bed, allowing me to choose and roll at choice. (I'm sure the hostel bunk beds were just as spacious for the male-bonding Snowdonia survivors too).

And now it's the night before school starts. The preparation has commenced; the uniforms are ready in neat piles. Their shoes are out in pairs, in the porch. (Five pairs, which is confusing me somewhat) Their lunch bags have been washed from the experiments that were growing in them. The boys themselves have been washed from anything growing on them too. The sandwiches are made. The cereal is out.
(I sound amazing don't I? Don't be deceived. For a more balanced view of my organisational skills, take a look at my last blog post. Every so often, I do like to give the husband false hope that I am the dream wife he had hoped for all those years ago) And so I'm ready for what tomorrow brings. Or am I? I know that whatever preparation has happened, however well I've nailed it practically this evening, there is still something I need to do.

I know that I need to be ready for tomorrow, with the realisation that I can't actually do tomorrow!

I can't do it on my own. I can't do it in my own strength. I can't be a good mum in my own strength. I can't be a good wife in my own strength. I can't do anything in my own strength. The preparation which needs to take place, starts with me humbly admitting that I need God's help for tomorrow. I need His help when I feed the baby at 5:30am. I need His help when they forget to brush their teeth tomorrow. I need to confidently approach the throne of grace, before tomorrow even comes and as soon as tomorrow comes. I need God's help in order to glorify Him tomorrow, otherwise even with all the prep in the world, I know how my day will turn out. The days I think I can do it alone, just end up exactly like my last blog post. So, I aim to end today in His wonderful presence and I aim to start tomorrow, right back in it. I simply can't do tomorrow without Him. Thankfully, He has already gone ahead of me tomorrow, so He knows what I really need to be prepared for.

 

"Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me". Psalm 54v4

"Do not be far from me my God; come quickly, God, to help me". Psalm 71v12

The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow

Walk with me, no hurry with me, through a morning last week....
We got up late. The baby was wet through but needed milk, so a quick decision had to be made; change the baby, but start the morning with her 'hunger scream', or feed the baby but start the morning with wet pyjamas, as her wet becomes my wet. I decided the hunger scream was the better choice.
 
Screaming baby changed. And on with the feeding, but shouts from another room of "I hate you" meant baby was put down on my bed, where she successfully grabbed the bottle and fed herself; a useful skill if you happen to be the fifth one in this house. Young Jedi has learned well. The "I hate you" is a new phrase. It only just started this week and needs training like every other new phase they go through. But this morning, really? Younger boys bugging older boys, older boys jumping out at younger boys and a mummy snapping at multiple boys. Do I really have to talk into why we don't hate each other? I haven't got the time this morning. I wonder if someone slept over last night or if indeed these are actually all my kids?  I'll assume for now, that they're all mine and get them packed off to school, so I can get on with the stuff I need to do today. There's a cry up the stairs of "Muuuuuuuuum there's no milk", but it's okay that there is no milk today, because we are running half an hour late, which means that the little shop is now open. Hurrah, every cloud...

£1.50 found and a child sent out to buy milk, which I do stop to appreciate, knowing that some mums have years 'til they're at this stage. Brief thankful and positive thought of the morning over with, and on with the morning.
 
Multiple cereal boxes, bowls, spoons and light sabers, are precariously balancing on the table around the pile of wet washing which I left on the table last night, to remind myself to hang it up last night. The child returns with milk but no one needs milk because they all ate dry Frosties out of the box, while I was upstairs. Of course they did, how innovative of them. Baby sat in a Bumbo chair next to the pile of washing on the kitchen table, still in her nappy. I feed her mashed up banana while she spits out mashed up banana. I try to remember back to when I had one baby and I took my time with each of these delicate little developmental stages and wrote them in a 'Keepsake' book. Ha ha ha...
 
Baby taken upstairs to clean off what I'm hoping is just banana. There's an argument about marbles going on. I make a snappy suggestion about shoes and teeth; the things they do every single day but seem to forget on a daily basis. So three end up in the bathroom together, which everyone knows is just a recipe for disaster. More than two children in a room together, doing something they've been asked to do, never actually works. Even two children is probably one too many, if you actually want them to achieve that thing. I remember the dentist saying something about them not all being old enough to brush their teeth without supervision, but the dentist didn't mean on days like today, he meant nine years ago, when I had one child. One, I can supervise. How is there a child still in pyjamas? Oh pants, I thought they were all dressed.
 
Baby carried downstairs for some physical play (rolling over and getting stuck). The pyjama-d boy is now dressed but screaming. His brother hit him with a light saber. I hurry to the offending child and snap at him. I yell something about being a good example as the older one. I can hear the hypocrisy as I yell, but I'll set him a good example tomorrow, when I'm calmer, when I'm not running late, when I've got more time. The older boy listens to my rant, and then simply says "I was actually just holding the light saber when he tried to hit me and he hit the light saber instead". I was yelling at the wrong child. So I went and made things right, by yelling at the other child. I think the baby is crying. She must've rolled over and got stuck. I'll get to her in a minute.
 
It turned 8:33am. The boys needed to leave for school. A hurried coat grab as they were shoved out the door, "But mum we need £1.50 at school today, to help the dogs". A random request, but I seem to remember it was spent on this morning's milk which we didn't need. Heads kissed quickly and off they went into the big wide world. Why are there still two children crying? Oh yeah one got yelled at and one got stuck. I went for a distraction technique rather than a sorry, to the 'yelled at' one. Baby has stopped crying. A window of opportunity to get dressed.
 
I moved sleeping baby from the lounge floor to the car seat and started out the door for nursery. It's my rare day when four out of five are at an educational setting and I can have a bit of space, a bit of me time, a bit of house cleaning with no one needing me. I have a faint recollection that the other three left for school without lunch, so I cut mouldy edges off of some bread, stuck something edible inside and grabbed their lunch boxes which still had yesterday's leftovers in. I stopped to add a note to their lunches saying "mummy is sorry for being a grumpy poo-head today". I dashed to the car in the rain. Drenched and slightly tearful, I looked into the mirror and realised at some point today I must've made the decision not to do my hair or make up.
 
My now wet boy piped up from the back, "We don't like the rain do we mummy?" And I knew what he was about to say and I knew it was today's 'lesson from a three year old'. "We don't like the rain do we mummy, but it's the rain which makes the plants grow." I sat in the car with him asking why we weren't going anywhere and I reflected on my morning. If the plants grow in the 'not so nice weather', how have I grown in my 'not so nice morning' and how have my kids grown from their 'not so nice mum'?

"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness". Lamentations 3v22-23

Somewhere along the way this morning, I thought my mission was to get them up, and get them out. I'd forgotten that my mission is actually to show them Jesus' love; to show them His kindness and His compassion and to train them to glorify God, in how they live their lives. I was too busy this morning to train my kids, too snappy to set them an example. Actually I had set them an example, just not one I want them to follow. I didn't start my morning in God's presence, I didn't even ask Him for help as it went from bad to worse. I just ploughed on, in my own strength and I definitely didn't glorify God with my actions. Thankfully He is patient enough to train me, and to grow me through the rainy, all consuming days. Because the sun will come out tomorrow. His mercy is new for me every morning, even this morning.