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Pregnancy, although an answer to years of prayer for me, was not always the joy I thought it would be. For one of my four pregnancies, every morning began with morning sickness, which never seemed to understand when noon had come and gone. Continue reading
When my oldest was two, I played the saxophone in a praise band for an evening church service of singing. We didn’t practice during the week, which meant we arrived an hour early and worked to be ready. I always Continue reading
Dear Lindsey,
At church, the pastor was praying. I guess it was a little longer than my 2-year-old’s attention span, because in the middle of the prayer, Casey began saying, “Amen!” louder and louder, trying to get the pastor to hear it and “obey.” I guess patience was not his innate virtue. 🙂
-Terri
Dear Lindsey,
I just thought I would update you, because you have asked how Nate is doing since his skiing injury 2/24- which was reinjured when he tried to Continue reading
Dear Lindsey,
I am just arriving home from Rome, Italy! Ah, the beautiful country and Continue reading
A few months before I was born, my dad met a stranger who was new to our small Tennessee town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer, and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into the world a few months later.
As I grew up I never questioned his place in our family. In my young mind, each member had a special niche. My brother, Bill, five years my senior, was my example. Fran, my younger sister, gave me an opportunity to play “big brother” and develop the art of teasing. My parents were complementary instructors– Mom taught me to love the word of God, and Dad taught me to obey it.
But the stranger was our storyteller. He could weave the most fascinating tales. Adventures, mysteries and comedies were daily conversations. He could hold our whole family spell-bound for hours each evening.
If I wanted to know about politics, history, or science, he knew it all. He knew about the past, understood the present, and seemingly could predict the future. The pictures he could draw were so life like that I: would often laugh or cry as I watched.
He was Iike a friend to the whole family. He took Dad, Bill and me to our first major league baseball game. He was always encouraging us to see the movies and he even made arrangements to introduce us to several movie stars. My brother and I were deeply impressed by John Wayne in particular.
The stranger was an incessant talker. Dad didn’ t seem to mind-but sometimes Mom would quietly get up– while the rest of us were enthralled with one of his stories of faraway places– go to her room, read her Bible and pray. I wonder now if she ever prayed that the stranger would leave.
You see, my dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions. But this stranger never felt obligation to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our house– not from us, from our friends, or adults. Our longtime visitor, however, used occasional four letter words that burned my ears and made Dad squirm. To my knowledge the stranger was never confronted. My dad was a teetotaler who didn’t permit alcohol in his home – not even for cooking. But the stranger felt like we needed exposure and enlightened us to other ways of life. He offered us beer and other alcoholic beverages often.
He made cigarettes look tasty, cigars manly, and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (probably too much too freely) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing. I know now that my early concepts of the man-woman relationship were influenced by the stranger,
As I look back, I believe it was by the grace of God that the stranger did not influence us more. Time after time he opposed the values of my parents. Yet he was seldom rebuked and never asked to leave.
More than thirty years have passed since the stranger moved in with the young family on Morningside Drive. He is not nearly so intriguing to my Dad as he was in those early years. But if I were to walk into my parents’ den today, you would still see him sitting over in a corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.
His name? We always just called him TV.
– Anonymous
Dear Lindsey,
My Bible Study Fellowship leader, Carolyn Simpson, shared that Stranger story with me in Flint, MI, over a decade ago. It certainly has made me think twice when allowing our own “stranger” to talk to my children.
If I fill a ketchup bottle with mustard, it becomes a mustard bottle, right? Mustard is what would come out of it if the bottle got squeezed. Similarly, whatever is inside of me is what will come out whenever I get squeezed. Any time I am allowing influence into my life or the lives of my children, I am responsible to make sure it is something worthy of coming out when I get squeezed. The Bible says that out of the mouth, the heart overflows. Our hearts are influenced by the inputs into our lives: the people with whom we associate, the books we read, the media we watch. Somehow, the Stranger doesn’t often meet the qualification of that with which I want to be filled. I am so thankful the above author helped me reframe my former thinking about the Stranger who was always talking in the corner of our house. Without the TV, we have more time and room to be filled with the Good stuff.
God bless,
Terri
Related Posts:
One time in the kitchen, Casey (3) was sitting staring at something really pensively. After a few minutes he spoke: “Something is puzzling me.”
Amused at his choice of words for such a small guy, I asked, “Really? What is puzzling?”
He said, “It means it’s confusing or unclear.”
Ha ha!
During my son Casey’s Hot Wheel phase of life, my husband spent a lot of time on the floor, identifying each car and the engine it would have on the road. Casey became an expert! One day while we were out and about, there was a red Camaro in front of us. Casey (age 4) said from the backseat, “Dad! Look at that red Corvette!”
Chris explained, “No, that’s not a Corvette. That one is a Camaro, Casey.”
From the car seat in the back came, “Dad, I know my cars. The red Corvette was above us on the bridge!”
Camaro
Casey, my oldest, was an especially intelligent toddler. At two, he knew our five-digit address, as well as many of the neighbors’ addresses. Sometimes, his gifted brain Continue reading
My late Aunt Ava Nell (then 80-years-old) was excited to see us visiting in Colorado. She attempted a conversation with my then 2-yr-old, Christine, who was acting shy and sucking her thumb while observing the room.
Aunt Ava: “Christine, what is that in your mouth?”
Christine (after removing her thumb to speak): “Teeth.”
I can still practically hear Aunt Ava Nell’s laugh. 🙂
Letters to Lindsey 