Kids, chores, and a good book!

"You can reach the cereal! I know you can!" "Make sure you feed the cat today. She can't get her own food, you know." "Could you please bring your laundry hamper downstairs? I know it's super heavy. Ask your sister to help you." "Please take all the sheets and blankets off of your bed and bring them to the laundry room." My kids have picked up a few new responsibilities in the last couple of months of my third pregnancy. At first they were excited to help out with some grown-up jobs, like sorting laundry for washing and learning how to put sheets on their beds. Then they began to protest a bit, as they mastered the new skill and it became a chore instead of a novelty. Around this same time, I began to worry that I wasn't doing the right thing; that I was going to cause them to resent me and the new baby by heaping responsibilities on them just because I was too tired and out of breath to do them myself. Things have a way of happening just at the right time, though. At bedtime we have a half an hour of story time in which I read to my girls from a chapter book. We just happen to be reading through the Little House on the Prairie series, and we also just happen to be reading Farmer Boy, the third book in the series that chronicles the childhood of Almanzo Wilder, the future husband of Laura Ingalls Wilder, the author. Almanzo is a playful, cheerful, and mischievous little boy, nine years old at the book's opening, and while he does normal kid things like play outside on his sled and go to school, much of his life is consumed with... wait for it... chores. Feeding the livestock on the farm, breaking calves for pulling a plow, plowing fields for the crops, planting crops with his father, brother, and sisters, harvesting, milking, putting away food for the winter, building an icehouse, whittling farming equipment out of wood, you name it, he does it. Oh, and did I mention he always answers "Yes, Father" and "Yes, Mother," even when he would rather go out and play instead? He knows the cows and horses can't feed themselves. He knows that if he doesn't milk the cows on time, they won't make enough milk next time. He knows that if he doesn't get the seed in the ground the right way, and scatters it lazily, there won't be enough food in the winter. We talk about the book after we read, or at the breakfast table, and my eight-year-old draws the conclusion, "Almanzo does a lot of chores. I'd rather go to school than work at home all day. But he has to learn to be a man so that he can have his own farm one day." To which I replied, "Do you think that is why I am teaching you how to sort laundry, and put dishes away, and keep the house picked up? So you can take care of your home one day?" She quickly nods, "Yep. Because we don't want to grow up and not be able to do our own laundry!" Amen, there it is! I am not a lazy mom who passes work off to my kids because I don't want to do it. It is not just that I am hugely pregnant and need a little help. Come to think of it, I was doing a bit more around the house when I was her age, but that isn't the point. The point is, it is never too early to teach responsibility, in whatever sphere my kids are capable to manage. I am teaching skills they will need, not just to care for a home but to care for those around them. They are dependable, considerate, kind, cheerful, and very capable. They know to "do the worst first," to do what they have to do so that they can be free to do what they want to do. They are amazing daughters who bless me and others with their kind spirits, and I have every confidence that they will be successful in whatever they take on as adults: work, marriage, families, and adventures of all kinds. And they will be adventurous because they are confident, maybe even hearing my voice in their heads as they set off, "You can reach it! I know you can!"

Carrying the Stretcher: How to be an Emotional First Responder to your Police Officer

We are the first ones on the scene. Not a crime scene, like our spouses, but the emotional scene they bring in the front door with them. When my husband comes home late from an overtime detail, from a hairy domestic violence call, from a disciplinary meeting that isn't running according to policy, or just weary from too many days of the same old garbage, who is there waiting with the stretcher, the oxygen tank, the critical medicine that will restart his heart? I am. Just me. No formal training, no real knowledge other than experience, both good and bad, to be the balm he needs. Terrifying sometimes, isn't it? I want to roll back over, pull the covers over my head, and sleep for that precious last half hour before I have to get the kids up for school; I want to stay in the kitchen so I can get dinner on the table before 7 o'clock when everyone is starving and cranky; I want to keep on watching my rustic farmhouse-remodeling show. But when I am frustrated and angry, I want to be heard, too, right? I want someone to listen and sympathize with my woes, and then not tell me how to fix them immediately, but just let me feel like I am not alone. So let's start there. How to be an emotional first responder to your husband: 1) Ask, "How did it go today?" You know something's up. He will either start talking or shut down. If he talks, go on to #2. If not, give him time to unwind first, and then try again later. Don't nag! "Better to live on the corner of a roof than share a house with a quarrelsome wife." Proverbs 25:24 2) Listen. Put down whatever else you were doing to show you are really listening, look at his face while he is talking, nod, and make appropriate affirmative sounds or comments to show you are engaged in what he is saying. Even if you are already judging his actions and think he could have done something differently, don't tell him in the middle of his story. He will get defensive and shut down, which is the opposite of what you want. Paramedics do not want a combative victim in the back of the ambulance, which is where you now have him, metaphorically speaking, so keep on listening. "When words are many, sin is not absent, but he (or she) who holds his tongue is wise," Proverbs 10:19. 3) If possible, such as if he is not pacing around the room like my husband does when he's upset, show physical affection, either while he is talking or afterwards. Rub his back, hold his hand, or put a hand on his arm or leg and give him a squeeze to show him you are on the same team and you are physically there for him as well as emotionally present. 4) Empathize with him verbally. Comments like "I can see how that would be so frustrating," "I bet that made you so angry," and "I'm so sorry you were put in that position," all remind him that you were listening and you are trying to see things though his perspective, whether you agree or not! "The lips of the righteous know what is fitting," Proverbs 10:32. 5) Encourage him. "Maybe they are assigning that job to you because they know you are good at it." "Maybe you are being groomed for leadership and they are testing you." "Maybe in a few years you can try out again." "It won't be like this forever." "Keep on doing the great job you are doing. Soon someone will notice!" Be truthful and sincere in your words, and keep it simple. "This too shall pass" is a great favorite in our house, and so is "a lot can change in just a few years." Proverbs 16:24 says "Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones." Proverbs 15:4 says "The tongue that brings healing is a tree of life." This is your time to be the healing medicine he needs. 6) Offer him something comforting to eat or drink. Just like a trauma victim, he needs that fuzzy grey blanket and a cup of cold water, but it could take the form of whatever beverage, sandwich, or snack he enjoys, served up with a smile and a hug or kiss. It is just another tangible way to remind him you love him and are taking care of him. Every day we get a chance to build our spouse up, to encourage him and show him God's love in such a way that he will be able to face the world again. With our words and actions we can rip open the wounds he carries home, or we can be a balm that helps restore and speed healing. We can't do this alone, but God gives us the strength to set aside our own needs and agenda to be the first responder our husband needs in those critical moments. Just remember, in this metaphor God is the hospital! We can carry the stretcher or lie on it, as you have probably heard before. We can speak life or death into our marriage. We can be hope and healing, or hurt and bitterness. Proverbs 14:1 says, "The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down." We are police wives, and our responsibility is great, but we aren't expected to do it alone. "May our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and by his grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope, encourage your hearts and strengthen you in every good deed and word," 2 Thessalonians 2:16-17. May God strengthen you, encourage you, and fill the medicine cabinet of your heart with hope so you can go and be the first aid your loved ones need.

And I'm still laughing...

So, in my last post, I ranted about having to go back to school and redo all of my credential requirements. I was pretty frustrated, but I still felt that God would lead me to the right place at the right time. After all, I had a great teaching job ahead of me that I had not looked for, financial provision for our family to pay off all debt (car payments, credit card, student loans, all of it would be gone!), and the ability to be around my children and working at the same time. But in view of all the positives, I still felt a nagging at my heart that I was getting ahead of where I really wanted to be. I told a few close friends that I felt like I had gotten on a train that was speeding up faster than I wanted and carrying me quickly to a place I wasn't sure I wanted to go. Was I really ready to be back in the full-time workforce, hauling my kiddos off to school with me at 7:30 and arriving home after 5, just to make dinner, do homework, grade papers, watch a show or two with the husband after putting kiddos to bed, and then drag my weary carcass off to bed? Day after day? Part of me, a big part, longed to stay home and clean the house, catch up on laundry, make well-planned meals made from well-planned grocery shopping lists, have mental energy available to help with homework and patience left over to deal with everyone else's end of the day fatigue without being totally wiped out myself. I was romaticizing my children's preschool years, thinking I had so much more time and energy then, and maybe I did. But I was committed to going back to teaching, and really excited about it most of the time. That is, until I took the test. Not a teaching test. A little plastic stick, the kind you pee on and then pray a lot over. And when I saw the result, all the blood drained out of my head and I sat in the bathroom, in shock, for a good thirty minutes. Long enough for a child of mine to come and knock on the door, "Mom, what are you doing? I'm hungry!" I numbly went through the motions of making dinner, but all I could think about was what my husband would say, how he would react, how upset he would be. He wasn't upset at all when I told him that night over the phone (He was away on a guys trip), and actually, he seemed excited. He viewed it as a new adventure we were on, something new we were about to discover about ourselves and our family. Once I heard his response, I was able to relax, and that is when I started to laugh. I haven't stopped since. Whenever people I haven't seen in a while say, "You're pregnant!" I just laugh. When people ask what I am going to do with a new baby six years after my last baby, I just laugh. I can't help it. God is so funny! There I was, cherishing a secret desire to stay home again when I thought I should want to teach full time, and this was God's answer to my family's need. They all do better when I am at home. But I am stubborn, an unstoppable force when I get an idea in my head, and God threw out a massive roadblock to my stubbornness- a tiny, helpless baby, the one thing He knew I could not ignore. This is not to say no one should go back to work full time after having a baby. I have done it with my first child, and sometimes you have to. Sometimes you want to, although I think that is more rare. But you have to know what is best for your family. I know they need me here, at least for a few more years. Then when I have one in preschool or kindergarten, one in elementary school, and one in junior high, I'll have to decide again. But I know God is already there, opening doors and making the way for me, because for some crazy reason, He loves me. One of my daughters' favorite worship songs right now says, "I know who goes before me; I know who stands behind." He is here now, guiding me, and He is there guiding you if you have put your trust in Him. I can laugh at the days to come, I know because I already am laughing!

To Laugh

In the face of change, of disappointment, of stress and of conflict, it seems that I have just one option these days. To laugh. To shake it off, and say, with a few more wrinkles around my eyes and a few more grey hairs, "This too shall pass." Or, "I can do anything for four months." Or, most recently, "So all of my post-graduate work expired without achieving a credential, so now I get to do grad school all over again. Okay. What is the next step?" I want to throw a fit. I want to sob, to kick and scream like a two-year-old in the middle of the mall who is not now, and maybe not ever, getting that ice cream cone. But I have responded that way before, and all it got me was tired, red-eyed, and no closer to anything good. So, here I am, not yet old and wise but older and wiser than the last time, and ready to respond to this new bout of shift changes, work stress (both his and mine), and grad school Round 2 with a little more dignity. One of my favorite verses of all time, Proverbs 31:25, says "She is clothed with strength and dignity, she can laugh at the days to come." I'm choosing to laugh, not because I'm naive or foolish, although I have been both of those things. I'm going to laugh because I am putting on strength and dignity, and when I am wearing such armor there will be no pouting for me.

Not Just A Job

Remember that this is not just a job to him. It is part of his identity, being a peacemaker; who he is. It is a brotherhood, and each day he has to let go of you, knowing that he might not come home because of the choice to step in and save someone else. You must treat your time together as a precious gift, with no guarantee of tomorrow. That is one thing that we police wives have that most people will never understand- we know that our time together is precious. At our best, we love deeply, passionately, unselfishly, knowing that at any moment, our beloved may be called upon to give up his life for another. That is why we are always so incredibly proud of our spouses, and why we become so incredibly angry at people who badmouth them. We know all of what could be, and still we kiss him goodbye, send him off to another night of work, and then come inside and smile at our children, clean up dinner, get everyone to bed, and close our eyes on the pillow, asking “God, my husband belongs to You. I give him up to You. Please protect him, and bring him home to me safely.” And we fall asleep as our husband begins his shift. We can do this because we are rooted in Jesus; because we know that whatever happens, we can have peace and strength; and because God will make us ready to handle the storm as it comes and walk through it with us. “Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9).

Walking In the Wasteland

Once you surrender your fears and worries to God, they don’t just go away. You will still have to face the news, the articles in the paper, the ups and downs of your husband’s mood, the incessant phone calls, the needs of your family, and the black cloud of the trial, incident, shooting, etc. floating over your house. Don’t give up. I have found myself repeating the same words and phrases over and over: “Provide for us, Lord;” “Comfort my husband;” “Protect us, God;” “Help us to sleep in peace;” “Father, please make what I have today enough.” God doesn’t care if you repeat yourself. He hears you, his precious child, and he longs to save you and work his beautiful, perfect, redeeming good out of the mess you are in. He is going to do a new thing in your life, unfold a new plan, and bless you in new ways if you just trust Him to carry you through. A friend once gave me Isaiah 43:19 to hold on to during a trial my husband was going through, and I still just love the imagery of it: “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” I grew up in Africa, the child of missionary parents. We lived in a parched area of Kenya, desolate and bare of anything but thorn trees for most of the year. Then, suddenly, a cool breeze would blow across the desert sand, carrying with it the smell of rain. We would immediately run for cover indoors, because just after the breeze would come a wall of torrential rain that would beat down mercilessly, sometimes for days, overflowing the nearby river bed with a swift, muddy current that heaved up and flooded the banks. A day or two after the rain, the barren sand would transform into a sea of tiny yellow flowers and fresh green leaves. The massive thorn tree that shaded our house would burst into vivid green as well, and our arid landscape would become lush with vegetation overnight, providing abundant food for people and animals alike. This is what I picture, that when my life at its worst seemed parched, barren, that nothing good could ever follow what we were enduring, God was waiting for the right moment to transform the landscape, to cause beauty to grow out of the bare sand. And he has.