Jesus, name above all names – Psalty’s Praise Album for Kids

Jesus, name above all names – Psalty’s Praise Album for Kids

Kids praise isn’t just for kids.

Today, my daughter, almost four, needed a nap. She has for the most part outgrown naps, but is growing and has just needed naps again this week. She couldn’t fall asleep over the busyness of the living room and wanted to be close to me instead of in her own room, so I turned on my iTunes Psalty Praise Album playlist for her. This is a CD I listened to (as an LP) when I was a child, and now she listens to the same songs. The music that I hadn’t heard in 30 years+ is so ingrained into my head that I knew every piece of dialogue and every song instantly when my mom bought her these cd’s last year.

I was playing the music and just sorting through my online tasks when this song came on. I’ve been struggling with my feelings of entitlement, not of riches or fame, but of being cherished and loved in an earthly, human weakness kind of way, and I’m losing. I ‘know’ I need to take my struggles to Jesus and ask him to be with me, but sometimes the how or the intangibility of God’s presence feels a lot like being alone. I am tired from all the physical struggles my body has put me through, I’m emotionally exhausted from trying to be the 1 Peter wife to my husband without fail, even when he isn’t the Ephesians 5:25-33 husband to me, or is so overcome by what the army is/does that he can barely be him, much less be anything for me.

I fell down yesterday, figuratively. I got angry and used words and tears to demand something from my husband he couldn’t give. I know it was sin. I asked his forgiveness, but I still feel broken over it, broken over the emotions that led to my melt down, and just alone. I feel wrecked inside. A dear friend, a lovely mentor in Christ, knows what I’m struggling with, knows the selfish needs and the fair ones, but pointed out Peter didn’t say act like this except . . . He said act like this. Period.

She also asked me to just focus on Jesus being my comfort, knowing he is with me, knowing he loves me, knowing he is suffering when I suffer and loving me even when the world or the people in my world aren’t right. When this song began to play, I felt Jesus’ presence. I felt his comfort and love. He didn’t save us to leave us alone. God is with us. And I celebrate being able to praise His name today and claim his redemption of all my sins, the ones from twenty years ago, the ones from yesterday, and the ones from tomorrow. Blessed redeemer, living word!

“Jesus, name above all names
Beautiful Savior, glorious Lord.
Emmanuel, God is with us.
Blessed Redeemer, Living word.

Jesus, name above all names
Beautiful Savior, glorious Lord.
Emmanuel, God is with us.
Blessed Redeemer, Living word.

Emmanuel, God is with us.
Blessed Redeemer, Living word.”

How precious are these words, how precious the knowledge that even at 42 I am God’s precious child. He wants to cradle me in His lap and wipe away my tears just as I do for my daughter. He wants to be present in my moments of deepest need and comfort me. I am so glad these songs and words are part of what I can share with my daughter and help her know she is never alone.

Seriously Harvard?

A mom friend posted on Facebook. “My 6 yo daughter is so smart! Harvard should get ready.”

She was being quippy,

But my mommy radar sounded an alarm, seeking some measuring stick by which to gauge if my daughter might also be in this very elite kindergarten predestined for Harvard group.

I began to type a long comment, but paused. She was being funny. Her daughter is super intelligent. I didn’t need to compare mine or have my parenting validated. I ‘Liked‘ and moved on with my day.

I needed to get a grip. AGAIN. Why was I so concerned with external success for my daughter? What am I raising her for? Seriously Harvard? was my first reaction to a friend's post about her super smart 6 yo. I had to get a grip. Was I really parenting for Harvard or Heaven?

Seriously Harvard?

Man, that sneaky pride and mother’s love (fear/worry) is a daily battle. I was reminded of a children’s bible video I had stopped to watch with my precious girl, the story of Samuel.

But really, it’s the story of Hannah who desperately wanted to be a mother. She prayed and wept, promising if God were to give her a child, she would dedicate his life to God.

Even in the children’s version, the story resonated with me. I remembered hearing it before in my own Sunday school days, but it never touched my heart the way it did on this particular day, which is the anniversary of the most important phone call I ever got.

But my story started way back in 2004, when for medical reasons, I had to undergo a hysterectomy. It was a heartbreaking decision, but the right one for my health.

A few years later, and I’m newly married, settled in Texas and ready to be a mom, but the finances to pursue adoption weren’t available. Prayers started then for God to make a way if adoption was His plan for us,  so we weren’t going into debt or jumping through hoops for our own desires over His.

When waiting on answers to prayer, it is always better to wait on God than force our own way. Click To Tweet

Two more years passed, and we had saved the money, thanks to frugal living and God’s provisions. But we couldn’t find an agency. It just seemed like it wasn’t going to happen.

I remember laying on our bed, sobbing, asking God if I wasn’t fit to be a mother or if it just wasn’t His plan for me, but to let me know so I could quit waiting, quit aching for a baby.

That was the moment I really surrendered my desire for a child to God and prayed for Him to make a way or give me strength to walk away.

Then a talk with a social worker led us to the right agency that we just clicked with. It took months of paperwork, fingerprints, background checks, home study visits, then more paperwork, but we were finally approved by as a waiting family March 1, 2010.

The sweetest moments in my life are when I surrendered my desires in exchange for God's gifts. Click To Tweet

Then it really was about waiting. A birth mother selects a couple to raise her child. You could wait a day or forever. After a few days of nervous excitement that we were finally approved, the newness wore off. The real waiting began.

Everyday could be the day, or we could be waiting years. With a traditional pregnancy, you have some sense of when it will be over (even if it starts to feel like the never-ending hallway nightmare around month 7), but emotionally, I just had no way to prepare my heart for this.

A friendly colleague asked me fairly regularly if we had heard anything in the first two weeks. I finally told her, when we got the call, no one would have to wonder. I’d be shouting from the rafters. But while I tried to be patient, I was watching one of my closest friends get closer and closer to her due date, being surrounded by all things baby.

Again, I finally brought it to God’s feet.

Lord, let me be patient and wait for your timing. Let me enjoy the time we have left as a couple.

Let me accept if the answer is no.

The last one, really giving it up to God felt like pouring my heart out onto the floor, but I remember the morning I prayed it and truly meant it. I let go. God, I’ll wait until your time is right, if ever. Until then, I will enjoy spending time with my husband and being a couple.

That was 7:30 a.m. My cell phone rang at 9.

“We have a match for you. We have a baby for you.”I could scarcely breathe.

The next two days was a blur of squeals and phone calls and officially accepting the placement for a baby girl due in June. That moment is one of the deepest moments in my life of feeling God’s presence and love, less than two hours after I surrendered my heart’s desires.

Hannah’s story in Samuel resonates with me because when I chose to put God’s will over what I wanted, deciding to be the mother God wanted for a baby, then God gave me this most precious gift, when I was ready to raise her for Him and not myself.

I was reminded again this week that I can worry if she attends Harvard, or just make sure I’m teaching her to love God. The rest really will go according to plan, His plan for her life, of which I am a handpicked part. He didn’t just pick her for me, he picked us for her, and why parenting for Heaven, not Harvard, is so much more important.

Pray ceaselessly

The other night, my daughter’s bedtime slid backwards a few minutes because her glow stick bubble bath ran a little long. It is her favorite thing. We turn off the lights in the bathroom and let her imagination run wild. She played until the water got cold, and her fingers were tiny raisins. By the time I was finishing her second story, asking her what was special about her day, and preparing to say her prayers with her, sleepiness turned her into a tiny ball of hysterical giggles. I snuggled her and kissed her nose, letting her laughter rise up into my heart like champagne bubbles, treasuring every moment.

After a few minutes. I tried to get her to calm down so we could say her prayers, but even as I was explaining to her why she should stop giggling and close her eyes, I felt God tell me not to stop her laughter. That prayer wasn’t something He wanted her to learn was serious and stodgy all the time. That unwittingly, I was teaching her to only pray at certain times in certain mindsets. I pictured Jesus asking the disciples to let the little children come to him, as they were, not as the disciples thought they should be. I could almost hear God sadly telling me that her precious, infectious, baby laughter was music to His heart, too. I felt so convicted.

And woefully unprepared. How do I teach my daughter to pray? Certainly, quiet-folded-fingers prayers have a place, but what does God call us to do? 1 Thessalonians 5:17 reads, “Pray without ceasing.” Pray constantly. In every moment.

Wow. I think about this verse all the time, about what we’re supposed to do as followers of Christ, but how do I make that part of who we are as a family? How do I demonstrate my humble attempts at constant prayer? How do I put prayer in my parenting that doesn’t just involve pleas for my sanity?

I don’t want God to sit on a shelf like a dusty Bible no one reads, or be put away and only brought out during important times. I am a little new at doing that out loud, at portraying prayer in an obvious manner for my daughter. I have tried to make prayer something we do together several times a day. We have a good morning prayer that we do sleepy-eyed and fuzzy brained to thank God for another day to be alive, we focus our prayer on having the right heart for the day, on being obedient and open to God’s word. A focused morning prayer helps me remember my goal in parenting her for the day is to point her toward heaven, not Harvard as well as remind her to start listening to God’s voice for her life. We pray over lunch or over dinner and before bed, sometimes while we’re in the car. But to model a running dialogue with God is a little daunting. I’m not sure how to do that.

My daughter is three and very silly. Today she wore a play grocery basket on her head like a hat, but with her baby doll stuffed into it. I asked her what she was playing, and she said, “magic bunny hat.” How she walked around like that for 30 minutes with a straight face, I’ll never know, or why she didn’t use a stuffed bunny??? but I really don’t know how to teach her to pray all the time. The only thought I have is to model it. To pray out loud whenever the mood strikes, to be in an attitude of prayer while I’m having Bible study or even in the little things.

I’ve prayed over the laundry. A few months ago, there was a specific moment I felt called to pray. I had a whole load of my husband’s army uniforms which for the uninitiated includes the most horrible socks to fold. He had left the load in the dryer for days. It was aggravating me, and I felt God nudge me to fold it for him instead of grumble at him about it when he came home, but when I dragged myself to do it, I wasn’t being very joyful in my service. I summoned some joy and when my daughter came in to help, I told her we were going to pray and thank God for this laundry that meant that Daddy is home and not deployed again, thank you that his service is allowing me to be home and care for him and our child, thankful for our family, and thankful that God gave us a family to love by helping with the laundry.

It was a moment that felt right for a lot of reasons, not the least of which I got to model a great attitude of being a helpmate and joyful giver in front of my daughter, but also of how prayer can be eyes open, in the moment, and just conversational.

In fact, there have been a couple of times this year, I’ve caught her talking aloud to someone most definitely not visible, but I hear her call God or Jesus. Once she was sitting at the kitchen island holding up a tiny scrape. I asked her what she was doing. She replied, “I’m telling Jesus about my boo boo.” And I listened to her finish telling Jesus how she got the scrape and how her wonderful body would heal that scrape. She thanked him for her body and asked him to help her feel better. She chatted animatedly just as she would if she were talking to me.

Hmm, maybe I’m the one who is really learning how to pray.

Heaven Not Harvard

Parenting for Heaven not Harvard has become the defining description of my parenting journey from full-time teacher to staying at home, home-schooling mom, changing my purpose and heart.

What should we focus on? Sending our children to Harvard or pointing them to Heaven?As a former teacher, I was home weekends and vacations, so I thought I understood what it would be like to stay at home. I thought I was prepared. I thought it would be easy.

As a former teacher, I thought staying home would be easy, like summer, but nothing has been more challenging. Click To Tweet

Well, um, yeah. Best laid plans and all that. How was a super driven, type-A personality going to handle a job without any external validation? How would I gauge success or failure?

I created this idealized image of a stay at home mother. Then I found having a strong willed child threw quite a monkey wrench into my perfect picture, and so did life.

Reality and a lot of medical crises got in the way of that picture. Just parenting  24/7 was harder than I could have imagined.

I’ve called my mother a few times just to say thank you. When she asks, “For what?” I simply answer, “For allowing us all to live. Sometimes, that seems like a miracle.” We both laugh, but we know how it feels inside when the threenager has been screaming from timeout for ten minutes.

We wonder how we’re going to make it one more minute, to dinner time, and holy cow, please hurry up bedtime!

I’ve been growing in my walk with Christ, understanding who I am and whom God has called me to be. As I grow in Him I realize how I parent will have significant impact on her faith in Christ, her walk with Him on this earth, and her eternity.

But worldly pressures seep into my head about what is important for me to consider as I parent. I read a Parents article that said three year-olds without a specific daily bedtime scored lower at age 7 on reading, math and spatial learning tests.

Argh, are you kidding me?? I thought for me being so type-A that I was winning over my demons by being laid back about schedules and bedtimes.  I made sure my child slept enough and went to bed within a 60 minute window, but inadvertently, I might have damaged her intellect for four years from now?!?

I struggled against tears.

I waited a long time to be a mother and want to get everything just right, as if all the waiting to adopt my daughter automatically gave me wisdom that would prevent the typical parenting pitfalls.

But here I sat, wrestling with fear and pride over potential IQ points in a child that is at least perfectly normal.

Why? For my own ego?

I feel pressured to prove I am a worthy mother to the world. Her ‘being smart’ would validate my parenting, right?

When we measure our parenting against worldly standards, we miss the measure that matters. Click To Tweet

Wow, am I that vain? Harsh reality, but sometimes I really am.

I sat there reading the article in the quiet 5 minutes I get on the toilet since my daughter has learned mommy wants to potty alone. Locking the door helps.

And I decided that my sin wasn’t going to be the base of my parenting.  I want her to enjoy school and learning because I did, because getting an education can lead to a fulfilling career, but even then so what?

What is my real goal in parenting her? What do I want her to be?

A loving, kind, compassionate follower of Christ, an example for the world of Christ’s love and God’s grace.

What does the rest matter if she is living out loud for God? Would I love her any less if she were a janitor or any more if she were a doctor? Is the bigger, better job always best?

When I started to look from God’s perspective, I realized she is how He made her. My job is to be a good steward of this child, but I’m raising her for His plan.

My child is who God made her. My job is to be a steward of His child, raising her for Heaven, Not Harvard. Click To Tweet
My job is to raise her for HIM, Heaven not Harvard. Everything else is unimportant.

If I dedicate my life and parenting to Christ, she will be who He needs her to be. I can love her and prepare her for the trials of life educationally, socially, and spiritually, but I decided I’m parenting her for Heaven not Harvard. Parenting for Heaven not Harvard has become the defining description of my parenting journey from full-time teacher to staying at home, home-schooling mom, changing my purpose and heart.Nothing is necessarily wrong with Harvard, but I’d rather focus on Heaven than worry about silly articles that provoke fear.

Which is why I’ve chosen to write about my experiences as a wife and mother: learning to be Christlike, teaching my daughter to follow God, and living as a witness to those who don’t know Christ as their personal savior.

Because in the biggest picture of them all, eternity, not much else really matters.