Control in the Headquarters

I recently saw the movie Inside Out.  What an incredibly clever flick!  For those who haven't had the opportunity, it's essentially about a young girl named Riley who is uprooted and moves to a new city. Her emotions; Anger, Sadness, Disgust, Fear, and (her most prominent emotion) Joy, start to disagree on how to deal with the dramatic change, which causes problems up in "Headquarters," the working space for the five emotions.

Post movie, I couldn't help but wonder about the controllers in the headquarters of each of my  kiddos.  Who's primarily in control?

My middle kid tends to be controlled by Joy.  We're at the beach this week and I watched him as he sat on the sand, celebrated the wonder of the sand, praised the name of the sand, and finally covered himself from head to toe....with the sand.  Ridiculous, I tell you, how one can find joy in gathering sand down one's pants, but this is my son; the one who breaks out in song when I tell him he can have Mac and Cheese for dinner.

My oldest is generally controlled by disgust.  OK, this is so not a put down.  Really.  She's a teenage girl, for heaven's sake.  And for those who have seen the movie, you know what I mean.  And I'll say that her controlling emotion can be helpful at times.  When clothes shopping recently, for example, I got an eye roll at the "awful and terrible" shirt that I was about to try on.  And so I thanked her, profusely.  I told her I'd shout from the mountain top just HOW GRATEFUL I AM THAT SHE SAVED ME from purchasing an "awful and terrible" shirt.  And at that point she practically turned green with disgust.  But then she picked out a "better" shirt for me and all were happy campers.   Yup.  It's great having a teenage girl.

And then there is my youngest.  By her own admittance she tends to be controlled "by the red guy."  And...that guy would be anger.  I don't know why in the world she would say this.  I mean, my eldest only has a few scratch marks from when she told my youngest it was time to go to bed whilst babysitting.  And no one would think the red guy was front and center by her reaction to the command to "eat the greens."  She only lay prostrate banging fists on the ground for five minutes, certainly not ten.  Because that would just be ridiculous.  And don't be fooled by her size.  Though I can practically touch my finger to my thumb around her leg, she can pounce on her brother like nothing I've seen when he breaks out in his operatic voice over mac and cheese.   I have to admit:  I kinda want to pounce him when I hear that voice too.

Man, parenting is fun.

What's most compelling to me is the fact that I cannot control who God has made my kids to be.  I can't make them have certain reactions and emotions.  And, unfortunately, I can't make them fall asleep when I want them to (And trust me, my husband and I have tried every possible way from the day they were born to control this area of parenting.  I may or may not have told my youngest the other night that if she fell asleep in the next five minutes, I would give her M & M's with her breakfast.  Um, the M & M's failed me). As much as I want my eldest to jump through the roof when I give her a gift, that is just not who she is.  And as much as I want my son to simply say "thanks" for the mac and cheese and avoid the operatic singing, that is just not who he is.

Of course we guide them, teach them, and do what we can to help them understand the Truth, but as hard as I may try, I cannot control them.  That's God's job.  He's the potter and we are the clay.  No threat of discipline or look on my face can change the hearts of my kids.  The reality is that God is very much in control in their "headquarters," their hearts, and the more I try to do what I simply don't have the power to do, the further I leave the door open to discouragement and frustration.  And the beauty of it all is that God uses our kids to refine and transform us.  Each exhausting day filled with sleepless infants, toddler messes, confusing teens, worrisome behavior and singing over mac and cheese is refinement by God in our own hearts.

My youngest spent thirty minutes last night asking her dad a series of questions.  I was so intrigued by the interrogation between my daughter and her father that I began writing down the questions she asked.   Here they are in order:

1.  How come Adam and Eve didn't listen to God?
2.  Why doesn't God just save everyone?
3.  Why do people care more about the outside then the inside?
4.  Are you saying that hell is forever?
5.  Does God make mistakes?
6.  What if someone knows God but then doesn't love him anymore?
7.  Do people go to heaven if they give up on God?
8.  What happens if I keep on sinning?  Because, Dad, I'm just gonna keep on sinning.
9.   Can people have church in their home?
10. How come God died on a cross and not some other way?
11. Who makes us sin?
12. Who's in charge of hell?
13. Does God control me or do I control myself?
14. How long till we get home?
15. Can I have some M & M's?

So, she's seven, folks.

And may God grant patience to her Sunday school teachers.

My husband suggested she uses this for her night time reading:

She wanted to, but I advised Flat Stanley instead.

This is what's going on in my kids mind right now.  Her headquarters are working over time, trying to understand the intricacies of faith and theology.  So many questions that have less than satisfactory answers for her....for me.  It's during moments like these that I'm desperately thankful that God is in control of her little heart because I, for one, cannot articulately explain apostasy and the problem of evil in the world.  For the love, Lily Joy.

Being at the beach has made me reflect on my own parents and the blood, sweat, and (many) tears over parenting me as a child and teen.  We've come to the same vacation spot for twenty-six years and this is the first year without at least one of my parents.  And I know my mom wanted to be here with us.  I know how badly she wanted to feel the sand under her feet.  I know how much she wanted to watch the kids play in the water and hear the waves crash on the shore.  So, when I tried to calm her over the phone while she was in an agitated state, I told her to just listen to the waves.  And I sat there in the sand with my arm extended so that she could hear the crash of the waves.  With tears streaming down my face, I thanked God for my momma and her parenting.  She wasn't perfect, but she did her best.

And I'm thankful that as a momma myself that's what I'm called to do.  I can't control or create, but I can do my best and trust in God.  Because thankfully, He's in control.

Smelling the Roses and Tasting the Bread

I’ve always struggled with the ability to stop and smell the proverbial roses.   I see the flower and acknowledge the flower, but I rarely stop, smell, and take delight in it, unfortunately.  

I had a dad who would stop and smell the roses.  There was little in life that he would let pass by without taking notice.  A beautiful sunset was not merely a pretty sight, but it was worthy of reflection and introspection.  A bowl of ice cream was not just a quick sugar fix, it was something to be savored and relished.  

A few weeks ago I was watching some old home videos.  What amazed me was not my eighties bangs, which was quite a sight let me tell you, but the amount of time Dad spent videoing things like the yard at our vacation house, the beach sand (not exaggerating; he literally videotaped the sand), and the various birds that he was watching at the time.  And the videos were mostly beautiful.  

I may have yelled at the screen once or twice something along the lines of: "Dad, did you video any of us kids!"  I was a little excited when I popped in my sister's graduation party video.  In the first thirty seconds I saw two much younger (and kind of cute) sisters, some ugly bangs, and then.....the cat.    And he stayed on the cat for a ridiculously long time.  There were background voices of me as I greeted friends and family into the house, but on the screen was...the cat.  For the love.  

But Dad loved it all - his work, his kids, his church, sunsets, and even that dumb cat.  And he didn't just love these things, he took pleasure in them.  

Of late, I've been learning what it means to delight in the things that we have on this earth.  After all, God created them!  In his book, The Things of Earth, author Joe Rigney says this:  

"God surveys the world of matter and time, of trees and their branches, of seas and their waves, of signs and seasons, days and years, and he has one reaction:  exceedingly good.  Over-the-top good.  Exclamation-point good.  Spike-the-football-and-end-zone-dance good.  It's finite.  It's temporal.  It's limited.  And it's very, very good."  

I love this.  And God loved what he created.  Yes, our world is fallen and in need of redemption, and it's not forever, but it's still good.  Our world, as my husband puts it, is a glorious ruin.  And I believe we can enjoy God in enjoying this glorious place we've been given.  To enjoy our earthly pleasures without him is idolatry, but to enjoy them as drawing nearer to God through them is beauty.  

My husband and I took a trip to Chicago last week.  There are two things I loved about this quick getaway:  food (um, Girl and the Goat.  I still lay in bed and think about that bread...amongst my other deep and spiritual thoughts, of course.  But that bread... ), and I loved watching my husband experience Bono.   

I have to admit that his excitement about this band is contagious.  And when I say excitement I mean this:  He has met them several times and on one occasion had a rather deep conversation with Bono.  He's been to over twenty-five concerts, he knows every word to every song they've ever written (and can also tell you the meaning behind most if not all of them), he listens to them on a daily basis, has seen their house, successfully turned an entire generation of his youth group into U2 junkies back in the day, and, at one time in his life, he knew Bono's waist size.  I can't even.....I mean I just don't even....but, thankfully, he no longer knows such things.  

So, we don't just "go to the concert," because that would be ridiculous (duh).  We experience the concert, and the experience does not merely begin when you enter the stadium.  No!  No, no, no.  The experience begins several weeks prior to the concert.  And so, as you can imagine, it's difficult when one lives with such a follower to not get sucked into the excitement.  

We did not meet Bono on this particular visit, though we tried.  I mean, the kind of trying that included standing outside of Bono's hotel for a couple of hours.  After fifteen years of marriage, this kind of activity has become quite normal and expected.  Though when I tell people that we spent several hours of our getaway waiting outside Bono's hotel, I'm quickly reminded that this is not necessarily normal.  Mere facial expressions confirm this for me.  

But this is what we do.  And while we didn't get to greet Bono, we did get to meet his body guard (yes, my husband spotted him walking around Chicago.  And yes, my husband actually recognized him.  And yes, we almost followed him.  But that would just be ridiculous).  The exhilaration my husband has when we walk...or run...or skip and jump (I'm kind of not kidding) into the stadium is just awesome.  Here he is chatting about the ins and outs of U2 with one of the attendants before the concert because even with seats we were there almost three hours early.  Of course.  Poor guy was mostly interested.   

But what I love most is how he experiences the concert.  He sings at the top of his lungs and talks later about what it will be like in the new heavens and new earth when every believer who has ever walked the face of the earth will sing to Jesus with all their might.  He relishes in the creativity of the band and loves to watch the story of their concert unfold.  He sees the beauty in the bands vulnerability and belief in God.  And he feels the pleasure of God as he simply takes delight in having fun.  You can see it on his face.  

And you could substitute every emotion described above and that's how I felt eating at the Girl and the Goat.  I'm just putting that out there.  That bread.  

I'm learning to relish in the goodness of this earth.  I'm learning to take more pleasure in the beauty around me.  And I'm learning slowly but surely to put down the to-do list every once in a while and delight in what is right in front of me.  And that can and should happen in daily life, not just on getaways.  Sometimes I work merely because I'm supposed to work that day.   I run the kids around merely because they need to get from point A to point B, and sometimes that's all there is to it for me.   But I'm drawn closer to Jesus when I become aware of the beauty to behold even in the mundane.  There are small voices in my back seat to give thanks for.  There are students with interesting stories to tell.  And every so often there's a rose or two that's deserving of attention.   And I'm starting to see that the fuller my life is, the more beauty there is to behold.  I just have to see it, smell it, hear it, and sometimes even taste it.      

"We have been given eyes that we might see God displaying his beauty in the world, ears that we might hear God singing his grace in the world, a nose that we might smell the sweet aroma of God's life in the world, a tongue that we might taste God's splendor in the world, lips that we might tell of God's triumphs in the world, hands that we might lift them in worship of God and service to others, feet that we might venture out into God's world and extend his dominion to the ends of the earth.  We have been given minds and hearts that think and reason and feel and will that we might enjoy them and empty them in the greatest of causes."  Joe Rigney

Amen.