The Day I Fired Toddler Jesus

From the instant you discover you're going to be a parent, you develop crazy ideas about your child. Ludacris expectations, really. If you've been on social media for 2 seconds you know this is true. One semester on the A/B honor roll and your kid is the next Rhodes Scholar. A touchdown scored and parents are negotiating with college scouts. Of course, there are some parents who would say "Oh, I'm not like that! I just want my kids to be themselves and to be happy." Maybe so, but way back in the deep recesses of their minds, even those parents are hoping that their happy, self aware children will be successful enough to not live on their couch forever. 

As parents we have the absolute right and privilege to insure they do well, encourage them in areas they enjoy or are good at, and promote them and their successes, but every so often even the best parenting goes slightly off the rails. 

For example...

A few months ago, the drama director at our church asked if we would allow Benjamin to be "toddler Jesus" in our church Christmas musical. Just to clarify the role...according to the Bible the Wise Men who followed the Star to see the Christ Child didn't arrive until He was, at minimum, two years old. Tradition, of course, has them at the manger, but that really couldn't be possible if the "East" that they travelled from was more than a few miles away. Therefore, our drama team needed someone in the 2-3 year old age range to receive the Magi in Act 2 of the musical. All he had to do was stand on a bench and look adorable while the gift bearing visitors and their entourages kneel in adoration. Easy peasy. 

I agreed in a heartbeat because who doesn't want their three year old to be the center of attention and generally adored by man and Christmas beast? (They might not have been at the manger, but they still had camels!) From the beginning Benjamin did not want the part. I believe his words were "I don't want to be toddler Jesus." I suppose I should have known we might have a problem, but, good gracious, he was supposed to be the Christ Child, for goodness sake, so HE WAS GOING TO DO IT.  

Before the first rehearsal, I had a little chat with him about obeying the director and doing what he was asked to do. Again he repeated, "I don't want to be toddler Jesus." Clearly he didn't understand how awesome this was going to be, so I had a little more emphatic chat about how he would be great and the play would be fun and how he was GOING TO DO IT. Pretty sure all my parenting neurosis were fully on display at this point. 

He did what he was asked, looking as miserable and angst ridden as possible. If he was trying to portray sullen, annoyed teenager Jesus, he nailed it.

After the rehearsal, the director asked if Benjamin wanted out. It was ok, she said, he doesn't have to do it. 

Oh no, I said, he'll be fine, he was just tired. 

Ahem.

I'm pretty sure the Bible frowns on bold faced lies even if your child was picked to play toddler Jesus....

At the next rehearsal when it was time for him to go on stage, he broke down in to full on sobs repeating "I don't want to be toddler Jesus!" I peeled him off my body and handed him to the director anyway, hoping that some distance from me would give him proper prospective on the whole matter. (Go ahead and feel superior about your own parenting at this point. You would be absolutely entitled and correct.) A few minutes later a slightly defeated director returned with him declaring it a bust. Apparently, he just stood on the stage steps crying and saying he was too scared. Oh. my. word. 

I came to my senses and went ahead and fired toddler Jesus. He was elated and my parental pride slowly deflated to a more rational size. There is something slightly horrifying about the realization that you've become a crazed stage mom. High expectations are one thing, but total disregard for your three year old feelings is pretty bad.

Sometimes it's so easy to forget that our kids are still figuring themselves out. They are small and the world is so big and full of so many possibilities. Just like us, they are wonderfully complex and God has

great things in store for them despite our crazy expectations.

He didn't want to be toddler Jesus but he was more than willing
to do somersaults and jump off the risers and say "ribbit"
as a cow in the preschool nativity play. Go figure.

The stage may not be Benjamin's thing now or ever, but it's my job to assess his desires, see his needs and understand his personality so that I can guide him to find something that it is his thing. 

Even if it's not toddler Jesus.

Cake Balls for a Cause: the Final Tally

When I threw out the Cake Balls for a Cause idea a couple of weeks ago, I had no idea what the response would be. Truthfully I hoped that a couple of people besides the grandmas would order some cake balls, but beyond that....

Well, it turns out a lot of people love Christmas and cake balls and especially love helping those who need to see what love looks like this Christmas. 

A. LOT. OF. PEOPLE.

So many people, in fact, that I had to cut off the orders or we would have been making cake balls until Valentine's Day! What a fantastic problem to have!!

How does all that love translate into numbers? Here you go!

814 Cake Balls Made & Delivered = $475 Worth of Items Purchased From

 the Bread of Life Catalog

What was purchased? Well.....

11 Bibles

7 Sets of Clothing

5 Nights at the New Life Center

4 Pairs of Glasses

3 Christmas Dinners

3 Egg Laying Hens
1 Beehive 

All of this proves what I already knew....my family is surrounded by an incredible community of people who love Jesus and want to share that love with as many people as possible (and who, apparently, really like cake balls). 

Thank you to everyone who participated and for helping my boys understand the power of community and how that power can be harnessed to bring light and love to a dark world. We are so very grateful.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

Cake Balls for a Cause

Do you love Christmas? Do you love cake balls? Do you want to help three adorable little boys help the poor and the homeless? You do?? Fantastic! Here's how you can help..

These are our good friends Brooke and Richard. 

You may remember them because they are Max's parents. They are awesome. And brave. And amazing. On top of that, they run a ministry in Poland called Bread of Life that serves the destitute and homeless. It started twelve years ago with a thermos of tea and a handful of sandwiches and is now, not only in Poland, but also in Moldova and the Ivory Coast.  

This year Bread of Life published a Christmas catalog from which items can be purchased to help those they serve. My kids already chose a couple of things they wanted to buy with some money they earned, but wanted to do more. The problem is they are only 9, 5, and 3 years old and, until the child labor laws change, they are dependent on big people for their cash flow. So, together, we've concocted a plan: I will make oodles of cake balls with their help and, after you purchase them, all of the proceeds will go to Bread of Life. 

Here's the skinny:

$10 for 20 cake balls in a lovely bakery style box

OR

$8 for a dozen cake balls in a decorative mason jar with Christmas greeting (teacher's gift?)

The cake balls are hand rolled and dipped with love and Christmas cheer in your choice of flavor:

Vanilla Cake w/ Chocolate or Vanilla Covering

Chocolate Cake w/ Chocolate or Vanilla Covering

Red Velvet Cake w/ Vanilla Covering

Take them to a party! Give them to neighbors! Eat them all yourself (we don't judge)....

Questions? Orders? Contact me at monica_henry@hotmail.com or send me a FaceBook message

Learn More About Bread of Life at http://www.intouchmission.org/projects/poland/bread-of-life-homeless-ministry/

or 

Follow Brooke On Her Blog:

http://and2makescrazy.wordpress.com/

Merry Christmas!!

When More Than the Turkey was Dry

Thanksgiving was fantastic. The days leading up to it, however, were terrible. I was drained, weary, dry, and just done.

The holidays are rapidly approaching and so are the vast number of activities that accompany it. All of them are good and fun, but all of them require something from me: time, attention, energy, and/ or money, and by the week before Thanksgiving, I had nothing left to give. Nothing. Nada. Zip. I was spiritually, emotionally, physically impoverished. Then, God drops this gem in my lap:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. -Matthew 5:3 (ESV)

I've never identified with the poor in spirit. Not sure who I identified with, but it wasn't them. That week, however, I was a card carrying member of broke spirit club. With pockets turned out and shoulders slumped, I sat before the throne. Jesus reminded me that only when I lack something, does He have an opportunity to give and He's never a cheapskate. 

Matthew records that the poor in spirit receive the kingdom. THE KINGDOM. Not an acre or a mile, but the whole shebang. They get the good stuff because they have the space to receive it. When all of the junk that occupies us and, seemingly keeps us going, drains away are we in a position to receive the abundance that He wants to give us to live a full life.

This doesn't mean that a check for a million dollars showed up in my mailbox or that the oatmeal cookies and corn for the Thanksgiving feast cooked themselves or even that schedule for the week magically thinned out, but the source of my strength to face all those things was reestablished. 

Bit by bit, my emaciated spirit came back to life and by that Thursday night I was feeling restored. (The brownie sundae I ate helped, but I'm pretty sure it was mostly Jesus.)

Lean in to Jesus during this season when the world around you demands so much. He never tires or sleeps and desperately wants to give you what you need to live your life more abundantly than you could ever imagine. 

Sometimes Crappy Parenting is the Best Parenting

I love words. Big words, small words, funny words, and stuffy words. Words that roll merrily off my tongue (historicity is my favorite) and words that I have to sound out syllable by syllable.

As you might expect, words, especially appropriate words, are a big deal in our house. Polite and kind words are lauded and praised while ugly words and words meant to hurt are chastised and redirected. Being the fantastic (and humble) parent that I am, I try and model the type of language I would like to hear in my home. Except for one little problem…I like the word crap.

I realize “crap” is not exactly R-Rated language. For most of the world, its right up there with “gee willikers” and “golly,” but for a lot of people we know it connotes just enough crassness to keep it on the “not preferred” list of expressions.

I know this. I really do. For the most part, I do a pretty decent job of not saying it. No need to cause my brother to stumble, so to speak. I’m especially careful to limit its usage around my kids. If I want them to use appropriate language, it has to start with me….

Well, imagine my surprise when my sweet, redheaded four year let out a resounding “holy crap!” on the way home from school one day. My first reaction was to applaud his outstanding usage of the expression. It was timed just right and with a profound use of genuine emotion, but, alas, I couldn’t let it go…

Micah! Where did you hear that? (Please, don’t let him say me. Please, please….)

School. One of the boys in class said it.

Ugh. School influence. Does it really have to start in Pre-K?!

Buddy, it’s not really the best language we can use. What else could you say?

Oh my goodness.

Sounds good. Let’s go with that.

A few days later, I heard it again: Crap!

Micah!

Sorry, mom!

And then, again, a couple of days later.

Micah!!

This was clearly becoming a problem. So we had a heart to heart talk about how important it is to use good language, how what comes out of our mouth is a reflection of us, etc., etc. I assure you it was brilliant parenting.

Well, a week or two later, we were driving home from picking up my oldest from school, when I rear ended a pick up truck who stopped suddenly to avoid hitting a car in front of him. The ironic thing was that I hit him because I was looking at a police officer who had pulled someone over. Genius.

Anyway, because I was distracted, I didn’t see him stop and I hit my brakes just a few seconds too late. Crash. His truck was fine. My van was…well… not.

CRAP!!

Out it came. Loud enough for all the kids to hear, especially the sweet redhead in the middle seat.

Mom!

I’m so sorry, Micah!

So, for all the reprimanding, heart to heart talks, and carefully applied Bible verses about speech, the first thing out of my mouth in the heat of the moment was the very thing I was trying to teach my kid not to do.

Sigh.

Here is the fantastically ironic and wonderful thing about the whole episode. In the aftermath of that lovely day, Micah and I were able to have a genuine talk about our struggles.

Yes, we shouldn’t say that word, but sometimes we make a mistake.

Even moms.

Especially moms.

When we do make mistakes, we ask for forgiveness and we move on. In those mistakes we create space for grace. Grace to know we are not perfect, that we struggle with things, that try and try as we might, there are areas of our life that only God can make right.

Big things and little things, but ultimately all things.

Things like using the word crap.

Waiting for Lunch

I had the "pleasure" of fasting from breakfast for the last forty days. I suppose for some people skipping breakfast is not a big deal. Super models, for example, or perhaps, people with a super-human ability to not care about being hungry. I, however, am closer to a hobbit when it comes to the issue of breakfast. Cereal, oatmeal, eggs, toast, pancakes, french toast, or casseroles, it doesn’t matter, I just really like it. In fact for most of my college career, my go to evening meal was Coco Puffs because they are awesome and delicious. So you can see why not eating breakfast would be a bit of a challenge for me. However, in a moment of lunacy great spiritual insight, when our pastor called for a churchwide time of prayer and fasting, I chose to forego breakfast. 

Here is what I learned…

1. Fasting is always less an exercise of the stomach than an indication of the heart. Fasting from food is hard. I understand that’s a slight understatement, but it is. It just plain is. Food, for the vast majority of humanity is very important and we get very grumpy when we don’t have it. And by “we” I mean “me.” 
God hard wired my brain to require nourishment to function properly and when food is found lacking, I get a leeettle testy. That testiness often leads to, well, an expression of said feeling, which is a no go when you are fasting for prayer purposes. Jesus was all over this…

"When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting...But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father…” -Matthew 6:16-18

If I decide to fast for the purposes of praying for something specific, then that is between me and God. Period. Jesus says the second I put on a show about how hungry I am and how, bless my heart, I’m doing it for Jesus (as if its some kind of favor to him) then it’s all for naught. Pride has no place in the throne room of the King.

2. Fasting is always less an exercise of the will than it is an act of obedience.  I’m a pretty good rule follower. In fact, I’m a great rule follower, which can make me really boring sometimes. It seems like, however, any time I’ve decided to fast from food or abstained from something for the purpose of prayer, I turn into a world class felon. Here’s the internal dialogue that started around day two or three of the forty days…

Hmmm… I’m hungry. It’s 9:30. No big deal. I can make it. Three more hours until lunch.

(10 min later)

Ok, now I’m really hungry. So, are juice and coffee ok on this fasting thing because I could really go for something wet...

(double checks fasting bulletin insert and drinks some oj then puts on a pot of coffee)

(30 min later)

I'm still hungry. Starving, in fact. Ok, self, that’s just dumb. What do you tell the kids? You’re not starving you’re just really, really hungry. You are NOT going to die because you didn’t eat breakfast. Think of all the women in the third world who eat rice cakes and hopelessness for breakfast. Get a grip.

(self admonishment works for 10 min or so)

Nope. Still starv….really, really hungry….so, when is lunch time technically? Micah eats lunch at school just before 11am, so do I really have to wait until noon? 

The whole thing is just embarrassing. Ludacris, really. No one, outside of my husband, knew what I had chosen to do, so I could have eaten away and no one would have been the wiser. Except for the teeny, tiny fact that I had told God I would not eat breakfast. Oops. What it comes down to, is that I am not capable of following through on a promise to the One who created me, loved me while I was still a dirty, rotten sinner, and sent His Son to earth to die for me so that I could experience abundant life here and with Him for eternity. 

In His omnipotence, God knows this. He knows we don’t do rules well. In fact, the Law was there to show us just how terrible we are at following the rules God has set up for our well being. With the Fall came rebellion, but with Jesus came grace and, ultimately, reconciliation. 

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.” -Romans 3:23-24 

Please don't think I'm advocating blatant disregard for our promises to God. On the contrary, Scripture is pretty clear that we need to do what we say we are going to do. However, as long as we are on this side of the dirt, we are going to fail. Guaranteed. The good news is that Jesus doesn't need us to be perfect (He's got that covered), He just needs us to be obedient.

3. Fasting, when done right, always yields results. In retrospect, I can see that the last forty days were a very spiritually productive time. I was far more diligent in my prayer time, an area I’ve always struggled with, and, not surprisingly, I was more attuned to God’s voice. The LORD provided me with verse after verse to help me through the loooong mornings (insert eyeroll), teaching me that He is, in fact, the One who sustains me. Areas of my life that were hidden by indifference and apathy have been exposed and the process of reconciliation to God's ideal has begun. And last but not least, the unity within our church community was incredible. Oddly enough, when the body of Christ gets serious about seeking God’s face, petty differences melt away and the Bride begins to radiate the love of her Beloved. 

It is a very good thing. 

Now, pass the pancakes....

Jesus Knows Its Scary to be Us

This blog was written two years ago when Katie was initially diagnosed. The tumor referred to below was eradicated with a very difficult, year long regimen of chemotherapy and radiation. Since that time, however, further tumors have surfaced in her lungs. As of this morning, she is fighting for her life. Please pray.

My mom and I were talking this morning when she told me about a young girl who is part of her church family. Katie is 15 and has stage 4 cancer. The mass is so large that it reaches from her pelvis to her sternum and is so imposing that in the ER they were unable to insert a catheter. She and her family are pursuing aggressive treatments to try and stop the spread of the disease but even that is proving difficult as her parents no longer have insurance. All of this seems ridiculously unfair. She's 15 for goodness sake and wants to be a missionary when she grows up.

As I was sorting laundry this afternoon and thinking through the unfairness of it all, God reminded me of something I heard this week in Bible Study: "Jesus knows its scary to be us." 
He reminded me that He knows this not in a omnipotent, theoretical way, but in an experiential way. He knows its scary to be us, because He created us, He loves us, but more than that, He was one of us.

Disease, poverty, hunger, pain are all common place here. Its painful to enter the world and, in most cases, its painful to leave it. We've never lived in a world without pain. Jesus, however, came from a place where none of that exists or will exist. He left the beauty of Heaven to live with us in the squalor of Earth. He chose that. He chose us.

The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel. -Isaiah 7:14  

The prophet Isaiah calls Jesus, Immanuel. God with us. Jesus, in all His divinity, walked on this soil as a man enduring all the crumminess that comes with that. He knows what it is to be hungry, thirsty, tired, tempted, sad, and to grieve. He knows injustice, fear, uncertainty, and unfairness. He knows it because He lived it. Jesus knows its scary to be us.  

In most ways, the fact that the Creator God became one of us, makes the difficult parts of life tolerable, slightly easier even. More importantly, though, it teaches us that we can trust Him.We can trust Him because He cared enough to send the best, the most precious, the most sacred part of Himself so that we don't have to do it alone. As a result, we can trust His timing, His purpose, His plans, even when they don't make any sense to us.

So, while its crazy unfair that Katie is facing a very uncertain future, she's not facing it alone. Immanuel is there.