Dear Lindsey,
When J.R. was 3, I had such an embarrassing night! I invited my pastor’s wife and daughter over for dinner, since our husbands were traveling together. She innocently asked who would like to say the prayer and J.R. was the first with his hand up. His prayer went like this: “Dear God, please make all these people go away so it can just be our family for dinner.” Read more
Dictionary.com defines it as “systematic use of intimidation to achieve some goal.”
I never thought of using it to describe my child’s methods, but Chris was using the word correctly (of course!) when he referred to our 17-month-old.
The word could well describe the methods of many mothers, husbands, wives, friends, bosses, children, and …of course foreign radical religious leaders. Read more of this letter
“These days should be remembered and observed in every generation by every family.” Esther 9:28
I have tremendously enjoyed taking a few days off this week – as much as any mother of four can take a few days “off”. I have read more, slept more, worshipped more, “blown more bubbles” (my term for whiling away the hours with my children–in their love languages) and wondered why I don’t do this MORE?!
In these days of rush-hour lives, it seems almost impossible to slow down and fight against busyness (B.U.S.Y. = bound under satan’s yoke) to enjoy each other. It’s easy to let hours, days or years go by and wonder where they went. Families need to combat the unraveling and stay tightly knit; one way is through family traditions.
“Chips!” my three-year-old screamed when he came down one Christmas morning, despite the toys that surrounded the chips. On video, it truly sounds like a 4-letter-word, but our funny home video reminds the Bradys that Christmas mornings bring chips, since our son’s food allergies prevented the “normal” Christmas morning sweets.
As Christmas approaches, fresh cranberries are strung with popcorn to hang on 
the Brady tree; Chris’s favorite cookies are decorated, and the Legend of the Candy Cane is repeatedly read. Dad’s calendar is opened to reserve a day for “stealth” family shopping and an evening for ornament painting. We buy (or make) one new labelled ornament for each child, so when he or she leaves the home one day, his or her new tree will bear years of memories on which to build new ones.
Some traditions bless others while creating family bonding. When I was growing up, my mother would volunteer to work holidays at the nursing home where she was a nurse. My father, brothers and I would then join her and convene with the elderly, bring dessert and lead singing. My 14-year-old son recently worked 5 hours at the Operation Christmas Child warehouse – something that could become a tradition as our family gets old enough to participate. Caroling in the neighborhood, adopting a family, cleaning the house for toys & coats to donate, visiting the sick, and making cards for the elderly are great ways for the family to act as a team in blessing others.
Most important would be those traditions that revolve around God’s message to us. Traditional attendance of a church service, memorizing Scripture, and singing songs are wonderful “habits” for my children to take along to their own families one day. One family of nine visited us last Christmas and simultaneously recited all of Luke Chapter 2 at the dinner table (upon our request once we heard it was in their repertoire). What a great family Christmas tradition each of the children will remember forever!!
What are your traditions? I would love it if you attached a comment below with a tradition- even if it is one already mentioned -even if it seems silly, like “chips!”. (note: Comments here stay with this letter, although Facebook comments disappear with the timeline.) You may inspire another reader -including myself- with a new tradition that knits families for generations to come.
Enjoy your family,
Terri
Dear Lindsey,
Years ago, at the soccer field with my older boys, I heard this exchange between my daughter, then 4, and another parent on the sidelines:
Parent: ”What’s your name, little girl?”
Daughter: “Christine, after Jesus and Daddy”
Parent: “Oh! Well what’s your daddy’s name?”
Daughter: “D-A-D!” 🙂
Once when my children were young, I took them up onto the back deck after sunset, so we could behold the amazing sky of stars God had displayed that night. As the breeze swept across the surrounding woods, the leaves sang and animals scurried. In the distance, an ominous howling reminded us of the nocturnal hunts occurring, while we simply enjoyed a peaceful moment as a family.
“I’m sccccccared,” my 3-yr-old said, crawling into my lap. “I don’t want the coyotes to get us.”
I was amused, since the coyotes were clearly far away, and we were clearly 30 feet off the ground on the upper deck. Before I could console, Nathaniel (then 6) said, “It’s ok, Christine”
His tone was so comforting. I smiled at the irony that he was probably the one who had introduced her fear, but I was thrilled that this time he was being so kind.
Then he continued in the same joyful tone: “You believe in Jesus, so you will go to heaven when the coyotes are done eating you.” 🙂
The talk of Jesus in our house is evident in the language of my children. But a few months ago, our pastor here in North Carolina, Stephen Davey, asked a key question that I thought I would bring home to my kids, now 14, 11, 8 and 6. “On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being 100% sure: how sure are you of what happens to you if you died today?”
I thought this heaven/hell question would be an easy one for the Brady Bunch in my house. We have read the Bible together, attended church, have sung hymns, and prayed together; but their answers took my pride right to where it should be – in the Lord’s hands. They didn’t know.
I am not here for a theological discussion, but I AM here as a mother who loves the Lord, and wants the same for my children. Do you know the answer to the question, on a scale of 1 to 10? Do your children? Shouldn’t we ask? Their answers that morning were eye opening; I realized I had improvements to make in my most-important job. Feeling tugged in so many directions, I tend to look for perfection, but I know that my children’s answers to that question shook my attention forward. I love to serve at church, business, and in the community, but my priority is teaching my kids the answers to crucial questions in life.
Love you, girlfriend!
Terri
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Dear Lindsey,
When God gave me my little butterfly after my buffaloes, I remember thinking, Really? You think I can raise a daughter?!
Every book I read, I relate more to the men’s side. I am from Mars. (Women are supposed to be from Venus.) I am more like waffles. (Women are supposed to be like spaghetti.) And I am a buffalo. God gave me a butterfly?
Butterflies are beautiful! They pollinate the flowers, spreading the beauty. Of course, to my disdain, they’re dainty and stop flying at the slightest little offense. Christine (now eight-years-old) fits the bill! She told me just last week, “Mommy, you should try a brighter lipstick. It would bring out your eyes.” She has rarely worn anything but a dress because it’s all about “the look,” something I have yet to get—as she has pointed out.
Once when she was three, I took her to a nail salon (her dream!). She asked if she could sing for the lady next to us. She went from woman to woman, “pollinating” the entire waiting room. The smiles were multiplying! But a little dust off her wing, and she is down for the count. My favorite was the night she woke me wailing from the top of the stairs, “Mommy! I have music in my no…oh…oh…oh…ose!” [her nose!]
She had the sniffles. (I think she meant to say “mucus.”)
Buffaloes, on the other hand, are tough-skinned, hard to pierce. They can carry a load like no other. Unfortunately, like a bull in a china shop, they can do damage simply by walking, unaware of the trail of destruction behind them. As a tomboy child, I braved the mean dogs by feeding them live locusts to keep my fearful brothers safe. Seriously. The buffalo in me wore an imaginary badge that said, “You can’t hurt me.” When in pain, I figured it was weakness that didn’t need to be shown! I protected myself with a coat of humor, which hurt everyone around me, breaking the dainty down, one by one, without my noticing! I shudder to think of the more recent times when my daughter waited by the door for my return, holding her beautifully hand-made picture so she could make a glorious presentation, but I, unknowingly, charged past and asked, “Who made this mess?!”
While admiring my butterfly grown-up girlfriends’ “pollinating” smiles and friends surrounding them, I really wanted that. Rather than looking down on them, maybe I needed to recognize their strengths and emulate them!
When dealing with relationship problems, I began to see some of my buffalo weaknesses. Maybe instead of blaming others for being so sensitive, I needed to gain some of their ability to sense! By saying, “You can’t hurt me,” I was really saying, “You can’t know me,” too. Praying the Lord would reveal my blind spots to me, I was able see a glimpse of how I was hurting others, and I finally was hurting myself. (I felt it!) No polishing occurs without friction, and thanks to that friction within, my buffalo was beginning a kind of metamorphosis.
Now, I have come to the conclusion, that to have friends and keep friends, butterfly qualities of flying high and “pollinating” must be respected and emulated! Yet, to accomplish anything with excellence, the buffalo’s strengths of load-carrying and tough skin are required. Respectful of the strengths of both, I am able to become all God created me to be…in essence, a Buffafly.
Love,
Terri
Letters to Lindsey 