what my acquaintances believe plagues me while attempting grad school and at the same time parenting three young kids. I've heard mention of the struggles of getting focused on deeper texts when normally my media intake involves puppets or animation. I've also been asked how I keep my house clean or my family fed. Neither of these would happen if I didn't have an amazing husband who tolerates me and the messy house and even cleans for me at times. Of course, I've also been accused of plopping my kiddos in front of the Disney channel for hours at a time. I'm not going to lie. This has been the case during my finals or while I'm writing a big paper, but much to the chagrin of my critics, I do most of my grad work/writing during quiet time, otherwise known to parents as, nap time. Today I was attempting to do just this.
I've decided to let you in on the truth. The primary difficulty of studying during the quiet time of two little boys is this...
1. My computer is situated at one end of the house and their room is at the other... beside the bathroom.
2. You never really know when they are asleep or if they are really truly in their room. Those little sock feet are amazingly stealth.
So, my friends, the most trying aspect of grad school during quiet hour is the daily treasures that I find in the toilet when the hour comes to a close.
Here is a run down of what I found today in our family potty:
1 20 oz. plastic cup
1 Jasmine (from Aladdin) Pez dispenser
1 small plastic toy cocker spaniel
15 plastic wrappers that once surrounded 15 rose scented bath fizzies
a mountain of pink rose scented bath fizzy foam
1 pair of child size scissors
1 green Veggie Tales toothbrush
There you have it. This is what plaques me...a clogged toilette. Luckily for me I own a plunger, rubber gloves, and a slotted spoon which is never used for cooking.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
The Prodigal(s).
Here he comes again; the prodigal son returns. Kill the fattened calf. Plan the party. In the background stands the loyal son always laboring for his dad’s affirmation questioning, “What just happened here? He’s getting a barbecue? I have worked my tail off my whole life, and you give HIM the party.”
I never really rebelled. I never really questioned authority figures, never sowed wild oats, never really upset my parents. I was always just there. Caryn, the “good one”; Caryn, the “prude”; that is who I was/am to many people. I fear embarrassment, disappointing the people around me, and following rules always makes sense to me.
Nowadays, I have an amazing marriage and three precocious and wonderful children. I am a minister’s wife. I am still the good one, the loyal friend, the loving wife, and the crazed young mom.
I have heard the story of the prodigal son more than once as the story is retold again and again through media in various formats. I have heard hundreds of sermons on it and every time I walk away feeling sad for the loyal son. I relate to him.
One of my temptations is to question everything. I don't intend to be disrespectful with questioning. I sincerely want explanations. This is how I see the loyal son. "Explain to me again, Dad, why it's so important to celebrate someone who has hurt you over and over again?" The dad explains it simply..."Everything I have is yours, son, everything. Isn't that enough?"
For years, I would let this story anger me, questioning the logic of rejoicing over a rebellious loser who only comes home because he has reached the refuse pit in life and has no where else to go. So the prodigal returns…to mooch…then leave again on the same path he crawled in on, so I thought.
I didn’t get it.
Today, I hope I am a little wiser. Today, I see why that daddy rejoiced and held a banquet for a son he thought he’d never see again.
While I don’t completely understand everyone’s struggles in life, I do recognize that everyone struggles differently with different things. The same temptation I have to go get my third brownie of the day…yes I said third…may be the same temptation someone else has to hook up with their third sex partner of the day. Everyone has a different struggle. Mine, as you can tell, has often been to judge everyone else’s trouble but my own.
Coming home after overeating is one thing, but coming home after wrecking your family emotionally over and over again is quite another. Confessing to overeating is cake…pardon the pun. Confessing to a life of lies and deception is a nightmare. Sometimes our sins only affect us, other times our sins wound countless numbers.
Jesus came and died to clean up all of us; brownie bingers and child-molesters… all of us. That is hard to hear isn’t it? It is hard to comprehend a God that holds us all accountable with our own abilities and with our own struggles, and yet is still just.
Confessing is a humbling business. One must be completely stripped of pride to take the walk home and then to look into their families eyes and hear, “Welcome, we’ve missed you.”
There are some experiences in life where we stand in the loyal son’s shoes. We choose whether or not to forgive. We are after all not the judge, nor the jury. We are, instead, the party planners, the brothers who set the table and wait anxiously to serve the meal. The loyal son, in my mind, learned how to act from the father.
The Father wants all of us to be willing to come home. He wants all of us to strip down our pride, admit to our weakness and stand before him flawed, yet loved. He is waiting with arms wide open. It doesn’t matter how big the transgression is. It also doesn’t matter how small. We made up the sin size charts…He did not.
In the end of all things, we are all the prodigals. We all make the choice whether or not to come home.
I never really rebelled. I never really questioned authority figures, never sowed wild oats, never really upset my parents. I was always just there. Caryn, the “good one”; Caryn, the “prude”; that is who I was/am to many people. I fear embarrassment, disappointing the people around me, and following rules always makes sense to me.
Nowadays, I have an amazing marriage and three precocious and wonderful children. I am a minister’s wife. I am still the good one, the loyal friend, the loving wife, and the crazed young mom.
I have heard the story of the prodigal son more than once as the story is retold again and again through media in various formats. I have heard hundreds of sermons on it and every time I walk away feeling sad for the loyal son. I relate to him.
One of my temptations is to question everything. I don't intend to be disrespectful with questioning. I sincerely want explanations. This is how I see the loyal son. "Explain to me again, Dad, why it's so important to celebrate someone who has hurt you over and over again?" The dad explains it simply..."Everything I have is yours, son, everything. Isn't that enough?"
For years, I would let this story anger me, questioning the logic of rejoicing over a rebellious loser who only comes home because he has reached the refuse pit in life and has no where else to go. So the prodigal returns…to mooch…then leave again on the same path he crawled in on, so I thought.
I didn’t get it.
Today, I hope I am a little wiser. Today, I see why that daddy rejoiced and held a banquet for a son he thought he’d never see again.
While I don’t completely understand everyone’s struggles in life, I do recognize that everyone struggles differently with different things. The same temptation I have to go get my third brownie of the day…yes I said third…may be the same temptation someone else has to hook up with their third sex partner of the day. Everyone has a different struggle. Mine, as you can tell, has often been to judge everyone else’s trouble but my own.
Coming home after overeating is one thing, but coming home after wrecking your family emotionally over and over again is quite another. Confessing to overeating is cake…pardon the pun. Confessing to a life of lies and deception is a nightmare. Sometimes our sins only affect us, other times our sins wound countless numbers.
Jesus came and died to clean up all of us; brownie bingers and child-molesters… all of us. That is hard to hear isn’t it? It is hard to comprehend a God that holds us all accountable with our own abilities and with our own struggles, and yet is still just.
Confessing is a humbling business. One must be completely stripped of pride to take the walk home and then to look into their families eyes and hear, “Welcome, we’ve missed you.”
There are some experiences in life where we stand in the loyal son’s shoes. We choose whether or not to forgive. We are after all not the judge, nor the jury. We are, instead, the party planners, the brothers who set the table and wait anxiously to serve the meal. The loyal son, in my mind, learned how to act from the father.
The Father wants all of us to be willing to come home. He wants all of us to strip down our pride, admit to our weakness and stand before him flawed, yet loved. He is waiting with arms wide open. It doesn’t matter how big the transgression is. It also doesn’t matter how small. We made up the sin size charts…He did not.
In the end of all things, we are all the prodigals. We all make the choice whether or not to come home.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Vengeance on Children.
Here is a list of things I dream of doing to embarrass my children one day when they are teenagers. These things have all been proudly perfomed by my children... most of the time in public.
When my kids are teens I will seek retribution by...
1. Dropping to the ground in the middle of a Wal-mart and kick my legs and scream.
2. Pull something from my nose and bring it to them like a gift OR just wipe it on their pants.
3. Walk into a crowd of people and exclaim, "I NEED TO GO POOOOOP!"
4. Yell loudly from the bathroom, "I Peed! or "I pooped again!!!" (dependant upon situation)
5. Return from said bathroom with pants down and ask them to fasten them.
6. When they ask for the car keys simply reply, "MINE!!!"
7. When walking out of a crowded hall start screaming, "DON'T BEAT ME! DON'T! PLEEEASE! QUICK SOMEONE CALL 911!!!"
8. Rub an entire jar of Vicks Vaporub into my hair and style it into a mohawk ten minutes before worship.
9. Ask, "Why?"...every five minutes. (this one might really prove beneficial during adolescence)
10. Create an outfit so obnoxious with stripes and plaid and polka dots and announce proudly.."This is what I'm wearing to church today!"
Obviously for those of you who know me well, you know I probably will not have the nerve to perform these heinous acts to my kids. BUT I think it is safe to say their dad may.
When my kids are teens I will seek retribution by...
1. Dropping to the ground in the middle of a Wal-mart and kick my legs and scream.
2. Pull something from my nose and bring it to them like a gift OR just wipe it on their pants.
3. Walk into a crowd of people and exclaim, "I NEED TO GO POOOOOP!"
4. Yell loudly from the bathroom, "I Peed! or "I pooped again!!!" (dependant upon situation)
5. Return from said bathroom with pants down and ask them to fasten them.
6. When they ask for the car keys simply reply, "MINE!!!"
7. When walking out of a crowded hall start screaming, "DON'T BEAT ME! DON'T! PLEEEASE! QUICK SOMEONE CALL 911!!!"
8. Rub an entire jar of Vicks Vaporub into my hair and style it into a mohawk ten minutes before worship.
9. Ask, "Why?"...every five minutes. (this one might really prove beneficial during adolescence)
10. Create an outfit so obnoxious with stripes and plaid and polka dots and announce proudly.."This is what I'm wearing to church today!"
Obviously for those of you who know me well, you know I probably will not have the nerve to perform these heinous acts to my kids. BUT I think it is safe to say their dad may.
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