SheLoves Magazine

Finding Your Right Parenting Way: Five Questions to Ask

Tales from the Parenting Trenches

“Given how varied parents, children and contexts are, how could there be one best way to parent?”

By Sabrina Connell | Twitter: @sabrinaconnell

I had a friend who could not have been more my opposite. I’m fairly certain she kept me around because she didn’t have enough people in her life who would openly disagree with her. In addition to opposing personalities, political and religious views, we had incredibly different parenting styles. Yet, despite our differences in parenting, all of our children, who shared classes together, thrived. While my husband and I often allowed our children to sleep with us, frequently played with them and gave them room to negotiate with us, she and her husband drew more strict boundaries and encouraged more independence in the form of their children packing their own lunches (including their two-year-old), comforting themselves at night when they were scared and playing without adults involved.

She freely expressed her opinion that she was parenting correctly and I was operating in error. Was one of us wrong in our parenting? More importantly … was one of us more right?

Numerous books promote varying parenting styles. Recent popular books like Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother and Bringing Up Bebe may even suggest that parenting styles in other cultures might be superior to ours. Given so many options and arguments, what should we do as parents?

Parenting style depends on so many various factors that I’m convinced there really isn’t a one-size-fits-all type of mothering.

• What outcomes are you hoping for?

Parents make choices in the service of values they hope will shape their children. In raising her children, my friend was seeking to help them develop self-reliance and independence. We, on the other hand, were aiming to raise our children in a manner promoting community and interdependence. Every parenting choice we make is in the service of some type of goal or desired outcome that is shaped by our own values.

• In what type of context are you raising your children?

Children being raised in urban neighborhoods face different challenges and expectations than children raised in suburban or rural neighborhoods. As such, different parenting strategies may be required. Globally, children around the world develop in vastly different contexts with dramatically different parenting practices, and yet still they manage well. For example, among the Efe people of Congo, West Africa, Efe babies learn how to use machetes very early on, because knowing how to do so is helpful in securing survival in the Ituri Forest!

(Photograph by David Wilkie, from The Cultural Nature of Human Development, page 6, by Barbara Rogoff)

• What type of personality do you have?

Are you more sensitive and reactive? Or are you stoic and able to conceal your emotions? Admittedly, I’m a bit of a push-over with my children and being strict or firm feels unnatural to me. I’m pretty sure my children even see my attempts at being strict as contrived and forced.  Similarly, some parents are naturally more structured and organized, while others are more spontaneous and … unorganized (myself included).

• What type of resources and social support are available to you?

A single mother who works numerous jobs to support her children may have a different level of energy and availability for her children than a mother who works part-time and enjoys the support of her relatives. Similarly, some parents raise children in communities where libraries, playgrounds, schools, and parks abound, while others raise children in communities that lack such resources.

• What type of child do you have?

Many of us who have more than one child can attest that even within our own family systems, we often adjust our parenting styles between our own children. My son and my daughter require different routines, different encouragement and different discipline.  If I were to tell my children that touching a particular object could be dangerous, my daughter would carefully back away while my son would take such information as an invitation to discover the potential danger himself.

Given how varied parents, children, and contexts are, how could there be one best way to parent? There are few absolutes in childrearing beyond wanting the best for our children and seeking to help them thrive using the resources, knowledge and abilities available to us. In addition to monitoring our judgment of others’ parenting practices, we may also want to monitor our judgment of ourselves. Rather than questioning whether or not we’re parenting our children right, perhaps we can take comfort in the fact that we’re asking that question at all as it reflects our motivation to raise our children well. Kudos to all you momma’s out there making the most of what you’ve got this Mother’s Day weekend!

For a fascinating peek at how babies are raised in different contexts, watch the documentary Babies.
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About Sabrina:

An artist-turned-academic, Sabrina spends her days navigating between a wide variety of roles including that of mother, wife, graduate student, researcher and daydreamer. She is currently a doctoral student in the Communication Studies program at Northwestern University where she researches the various ways in which children and parents engage media and technology and the potential effects these interactions might have on the development of children. Prior to her time at Northwestern, Sabrina earned a Master’s degree in child development from Tufts University, as well as a Master of Arts in puppetry from the University of Connecticut. She has a passion for all things involving play, whimsy and the art of nurturing.

Image credit: Boy in field, by Thomas Fleenor

ShePonders: Vulnerability

“My tenderness, rawness, weakness and my vulnerability are, in fact, the birthplace of resurrection.”

By Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha | Twitter: @kelljnik

It all began as a normal visit, my parents coming over for dinner (bringing a pizza and some hot wings) to enjoy an evening with the grandkids. But at some point my son did not get his way and launched into an explosive tantrum, the like of which I had never experienced before.

I managed to push him down the hallway and into his room. His arms were flailing, legs kicking and ugly words were streaming out of his mouth at full volume. I pinned him on the bed, trying to prevent him from hurting himself or anyone else. I whispered soothing words in his ear to try and calm him. I prayed for a volume button to activate and, as if by divine remote control, lower the sound of his shouting.

He was out of control. I was out of control. Let’s face it–control had left the building. And then I looked up and saw my mother standing in the threshold of the doorway staring. “We are leaving,” she announced. Enter that “warm wash of shame” that Brene Brown speaks of in her TED talk.

Exposed

It was a painful moment of utter vulnerability–excruciating exposure, utter weakness and taunting embarrassment. I was out of my depth. I would learn in coming days as I consulted friends and professionals that I did everything wrong in that initial moment. What I did, escalated the tantrum. What I did was wrong. What I did, was seared in my mind (and the mind of my mother). It would be months before I could find the courage to talk to her about that night.

In the last 18 months I’ve come to recognize that my greatest moments of vulnerability all center in the vortex of motherhood. I remember when confronted with the reality of discrimination my brown-skinned children will face in this world, I wept uncontrollably on the convention center floor. Or when my son recently asked about his “other mother” and why she did not keep him and if he could meet her, I seized up inside and immediately corrected: “I am your mother, she is your birth mother.”

Or when he told me that he does not like “the way my love feels” after another consequence meted out for bad behavior. As I daily attempt to protect, discipline and form identity in my children, I feel stretched taut on a cross and I feel the nails pinning me in place. I am raw and losing blood rapidly. Vulnerability has never been so real for me before.

With Good Friday not that far behind us, I have continued to ponder the cross and crucifixion. Just the other day I came across a poem by Mary Karr entitled Descending Theology: The Crucifixion.

This portion riveted me:

To be crucified is first to lie down

on a shaved tree, and then to have oafs stretch you out

on a crossbar as if for flight, then thick spikes

fix you into place.

Once the cross props up and the pole stob

sinks vertically in an earth hole, perhaps

at an awkward list, what then can you blame for hurt

but your own self’s burden?

Your not the figurehead on a ship.  You’re not

         flying anywhere, and no one’s coming to hug you.

You hang like that, a sack of flesh on the hard

trinity of nails holding you into place.

The description of hanging with no hug forthcoming, touches something deep in me as a mother.  There are these moments where I am stretched, nailed and hung. I am excruciatingly exposed, my raw mama-heart tender and bruised and soon-to-be-expiring. Like Jesus, I am headed in the right direction but must suffer this pain nonetheless. For me it is the pain between a son’s tantrum and his one-day transformation into peacemaker. (Forgive him, because he does not mean what he is saying; he does not yet know who he is becoming.)

Leaning In

My vulnerability is experiencing weakness and lack of control.  But leaning into vulnerability also is asking for the help I need, confessing that I don’t know what to do.  So I ask for coaching on how to manage tantrums.  I take a risk and approach an African American teacher and ask for her to unpack discrimination for me and teach me how to help my kids.  I gather up some courage and share with my parents what I’m learning about how to raise my children. All this is naked vulnerability.

Then while retreating to my reading chair, this sentence by Walter Brueggemann found me, “The victory of resurrection requires the vulnerability of crucifixion.” I was pierced. My tenderness, rawness, weakness and my vulnerability are, in fact, the birthplace of resurrection. My vulnerability, most-oft experienced in mothering but also in other moments, has a redemptive arc.

Jesus endured the vulnerability of the cross, we are told, for a joy that was set before Him. He knew there was more ahead, something beyond the hug-less hanging of crucifixion. As He experienced excruciating exposure He was also making ready for resurrection. Paul says that is the divine mystery … the cross that appears as scandal, utter foolishness, is actually a deeper kind of wisdom. Brene Brown, no theologian but a wise woman just the same, describes how we feel weak when we are vulnerable, yet others see that very vulnerability as pure courage.  So this week I am seeing that place of vulnerability as cross–foolishness–weakness yet leading to courage – wisdom – resurrection. Vulnerability will lead to transformation … as cross leads to resurrection.

Last night my parents were over for dinner, bringing the traditional pizza and wings. Someone did not get his way and I had to step in to offer discipline. But now I have learned how. And soon he returned to the table in time for the last bursts of laughter.

And my mother hugged me before she left.

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My dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear:

• How has vulnerability been a birthplace of resurrection for you?
• Where have you been surprized by your courage?

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AUDIO

Audio: Vulnerability

Click on the link above for an audio experience of Kelley’s post.

About Kelley:

Kelley Johnson Nikondeha is co-director of Amahoro Africa and international staff member of Community of Faith with her husband Claude. She’s a thinker, connector, advocate, avid reader and mother of two beautiful children. Kelley lives between Arizona and Burundi. She loves handwritten letters, homemade pesto and anything written by Walter Brueggemann.

Tales from the Parenting Trenches: The Serious Work of Child’s Play

“Play that is self-directed, unstructured and free is critical to children’s social, emotional, and cognitive development.”

By Sabrina Connell | Twitter: @sabrinaconnell

Last weekend, our children bounded through the house, pretending to sell colored Easter Eggs to imaginary individuals. They accessorized themselves with an odd assortment of hats, fanny packs and clipboards and called out orders, moving in and out of each room with gusto and finesse. At times, they played their game “together,” making up rules and scenarios. Other moments, when their own agendas proved too strong for any compromise, they played a solitary version of this same game. It was beautiful listening to their squeaky little voices echo back and forth across the halls as they took on “adult” roles.  This good, ole-fashioned type of pretend play is serious business. Play that is self-directed, unstructured and free is critical to their social, emotional, and cognitive development.

More time spent in fantasy play has been associated with increased levels of self-control, improved social and emotional skills and academic achievement. When children pretend that a wooden block is a cell phone or when they discover a new purpose for a rock in the back yard, they are practicing the discipline of imaginative thinking and priming their minds to tackle new ideas. Such thinking is essential in higher level math and science, where individuals are required to imagine possibilities, concepts, and connections that are impossible to see physically. When children take on roles and pretend to be someone else, they are practicing perspective-taking and empathy. Engaging in this type of role-playing with others allows opportunities for children to solve problems, work through disagreements and practice kindness.

What, then, can we do as parents to make sure that our children reap the benefits of free play?

1. Make time and space for unstructured play. In a time where children’s days are structured by the demands of standardized testing, rigorous academics and numerous opportunities for organized sports and activities, it seems as though opportunities for free play are gradually slipping away. In wanting to provide opportunities for our children, we seem to forget how healthy a good dose of boredom can be for them. Boredom can drive children to make something out of nothing, to explore new ways of playing with old toys, and to create elaborate, imaginative stories.

2. Allow play to be undirected and child-led. In doing so, children are wonderfully empowered. They step aside from their positions as children and allow themselves to become police officers, superheroes and parents, making up rules that support their roles and their stories. The reknown Russian psychologist Lev Vygotsky suggested that, in play, a child stands taller than himself, above his age and ordinary behavior. It’s as if he’s climbing up a ladder and looking around at a larger area. Psychoanalyst and child psychologist D. W. Winnicott believed that free play allowed children limited by their size and development to be able to delight in magical control and omnipotent feelings.

3. Participate! Playing offers reciprocal benefits. When caregivers engage in playtime, they earn receptivity from their children. In other words, the more you participate in child-led play, the more likely they are to listen to you outside of playtime.

It seems so simple doesn’t it? And yet, I’m amazed to meet so many mothers who run themselves ragged by driving their children to some sort of club, sport, or organized activity nearly every day, girded by the worry that ceasing from so much activity would cause their children to miss out on some fantastic opportunity. Of course, our own children participate in their share of sports and clubs. However, I’m convinced that boredom and free time are some of the greatest opportunities we can provide our children!

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So, my SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear: 

• Do you find it challenging to make space for free play in your family routine?
• Which play-time activities do you most enjoy participating in with your children?

Are you interested in learning more about play and its role in development? Here are some more great resources:

•  PlayScience on Pinterest 
• A Child’s Work: The Importance of Fantasy Play, by Vivian Gussin Paley
• The Power of Play: Learning What Comes Naturally, by David Elkind

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About Sabrina:

An artist-turned-academic, Sabrina spends her days navigating between a wide variety of roles including that of mother, wife, graduate student, researcher and daydreamer. She is currently a doctoral student in the Communication Studies program at Northwestern University where she researches the various ways in which children and parents engage media and technology and the potential effects these interactions might have on the development of children. Prior to her time at Northwestern, Sabrina earned a Master’s degree in child development from Tufts University, as well as a Master of Arts in puppetry from the University of Connecticut. She has a passion for all things involving play, whimsy and the art of nurturing.

TGIF: My “30 Going on 13″ Moment

On forgotten business cards, my Jambalaya family and sleeping in the backseat of a minivan.

by Tina Francis | Twitter: @teenbug
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I got a promotion at work last year. Not the kind that results in a corner office, prime parking spot and stock options. But the kind where you get a moderate raise, a fancy title, continue to do your old job (with the dream of a replacement—“soon”), work longer hours and get a fresh stack of business cards.

I find the practice of swapping business cards archaic and awkward. Much like a good handshake, handing out a business card is an art form. I lack the prerequisite swagger needed to hand them out with any semblance of credibility.

This guy has swagger:

In stark contrast, I’ve got a lot more of this going on:

When I’m not moonlighting as a sandwich consultant, I work with engineers. In my experience, most engineers consider non-engineers, an overhead cost, and “a suit”.

Now add the fact that: I’m female (minority), younger to my peers (inexperienced), a communication major (fluff degree) with work experience in TV broadcasting (condescending smirk). Let’s just say, the odds are stacked against me.

My business card is the neon stamp of approval that grants me access to this otherwise members-only club.

Without it, I’m basically toast. This is where my story begins.

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On the eve of a business trip to Toronto, I was working late at the office. Seriously sleep-deprived, I eventually packed my bags to go home but had a sneaking suspicion I was forgetting something important.

You know where this is going …

At the tail end of my 1.5-hour commute home, it dawned on me: I’d forgotten to grab my business cards.

I was catching an early morning flight, still had to pack, do laundry and make crucial changes to a presentation. This (this!) lapse in planning was a boo-boo of epic proportions.

While I wanted to go into a “Jim Carrey-esque” meltdown, i.e. slamming my head into the steering wheel, I started crying angry defeated tears instead.

How could I forget to pack them after my boss reminded me? All this work on a presentation and I wasn’t going to make a professional first impression! Nobody wants to be on the team with the person who “ran out of business cards.”

7:30 pm

After raging crying on my driveway for three minutes, I walked into the kitchen where my parents were eating dinner. Afraid I was going to burst into tears, I avoided eye contact and rinsed out my lunch Tupperware in the sink.

“I forgot to grab my business cards,” I said in a monotone Terminator voice. “I really needed them for my trip.”

“Do you have any extra cards at home?” my mom asked.

I exhaled and nodded my head, “No.” I served myself a plate of food, then headed up to my room.

7:45 pm

Back in the kitchen. I was washing my empty plate, when my dad, who was now munching on a fistful of sweet sticky dates said, “If you want to pick up the cards, I can drive you.”

I looked up at him tentatively and said, “But it’s an hour-and-a-half away …”

Half-chewing he replied, “That’s okay. There won’t be any traffic this time of the night.”

“Are you sure … ?” my voice trailed off.

My mom who was clearing the dinner table urged, “Go get dressed.”

Just as I was about to climb into the minivan, I noticed my mom standing right behind me with a pillow and a blanket.

“Get in the backseat,” she said handing me the pillow and the blanket. “You can rest on the drive there.”

“The family is a haven in a heartless world.”
- Christopher Lasch

You Can Rest

As I climbed in the van, I felt my knees buckle and my lips quiver.

The words, “You can rest,” made my head spin.

Remember that movie “13 going on 30” where Jennifer Garner plays a game on her 13th birthday and wakes up as a 30-year-old woman? Well, this moment, was the exact opposite.

Here I was, an able-bodied 30-year-old woman, in scuffed sneakers, an oversized hoodie, whimpering in the backseat of my parents’ minivan with a blankie. For crying out loud!

First I was crying, because I love the relationship my parents share. They truly enjoy each other’s company–whether it’s going to buy a bag of mulch for the backyard, or driving their adult daughter to pick up business cards in the middle of the night.

Then I was crying, because I realized they had loved 30-year-old me for as many years. Thirty years of being bailed out, taken care of and consoled. Thirty years of encouraging me, protecting me and looking out for me. Thirty years of (metaphorically) leaving the light on for my prodigal heart.

Sure, sometimes their “encouragement” felt like pressure, “protection” felt like suffocation and “looking out for me” sounded an awful lot like paranoia. But the bottom line was that these people–my parents–love me. They would go barefoot to hell and back for me.

What about people who don’t have a loving family?

I was semi-hypnotized by the streetlights whizzing by, when I realized we were driving through Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside (DTES), a.k.a. “the rough part” of town. Just outside the protected bubble of my minivan was screaming visual proof of poverty, drug use, prostitution, crime and violence.

In February, I was at the Justice Conference in Portland where I heard stories about lives that took a drastic turn for the worst because of emotionally unavailable parents.

Girls with parents who were caught up in numbing their own pain with alcohol, drugs or multiple sexual partners. Girls who had no one to call after running away from home, getting pregnant, date raped or overdosing. Girls who had no one to call from a gas station, bus stop or payphone.

So the girls went back to their:
… abusive boyfriends,
… pimps, and
… dealers.

They never stood a fighting chance.

A good friend often says, “When you have roots, you can have wings.” I need “the roots” of my family, who love me unconditionally ”to have wings.” I needed a two-hour drive to grab my business cards in the middle of the night, so I could feel confident about giving a stellar presentation at work.

Driving through the DTES, I found my heart overflowing with gratitude for my mom and dad, who were happily chatting away, snacking on spicy fried peas in the front seat.

My family is a thick jambalaya of characters, who share food, bad jokes and the remote control. We celebrate birthdays, new jobs and great haircuts. We stand together in failure, heartbreak and buffet lineups. We sit through terrible high school plays, teary weddings and depressing waiting rooms. We parade around in our pajamas, talk with morning breath, tease each other, address fashion faux pas and wander through Walmart. We are fiercely protective, borderline codependent and wildly irrational when it comes to loving each other.  In a nutshell, their unconditional LOVE, gives me the courage to journey through the good, the beautiful and the downright ugly of LIFE.

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So, dear ones …

- Who cares about your rest?
- Who needs you to show up for them with a pillowcase and a blankie?

Love you more than a comforting bowl of Coconut Shrimp Soup and Lady Apple Cardamom Cake,
xoxo,
Teen

To read more TGIFs from Tina: Click here.

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My name is Tina. Loved ones call me: Teen.

Words are my chocolate. Music, my caramel. Photography, my bread. Girlfriends, my butter.

Confession: Some girls dream about Manolo Blahniks or their next Hermes bag. Not me. I dream of freshly baked bread, perfectly barbecued meat & steaming bowls of Pho. My dream lover *cue Mariah Carey song* is someone who would read out a menu to me in Barry White’s baritone voice.

I celebrate food, ask for help, interrupt conversations, laugh and cry hard, acknowledge the elephant in most rooms, fight for the underdog and believe in the power of storytelling.

I was born and raised in Dubai and currently live in the beautiful city of Vancouver, known for some of the best sushi in the world.

Sixteen Candles & A Parent’s Blessing

“I get it now. My parents saw so much more for me than I did for myself.”

By Angela Doell | Twitter: @adoell

When I was young my parents told me I would go further than them in life. They said I’d accomplish more and see greater things than they could even dream of. I remember thinking how big and impressive their lives were–from my perspective–and feeling a thrill at that thought … though my gut reaction was a scary mix of terror and anticipation. I couldn’t imagine actually living up to that. I took on those words like a bit of a burden–a self-imposed expectation to create a life that might actually be as impressive as I thought they hoped it would be.I’m a mom now and my baby girl just turned sixteen years old. We celebrated with a special evening in her honour, surrounding her with close family and dear friends and toasting everything wonderful about her. My heart was full as I sniffled through toasts made by people who treasure her. When it was my turn to raise my glass, I swallowed hard, looked into those hazel eyes I adore and heard myself say, “You, Sweets, have the most beautiful future. You are going to go further and do bigger things than your dad or I can even imagine.”

History repeated, my blessing so familiar even as the words flew from my lips.

The thing is that I believed what I said with every ounce of me. My kid, she is going to go places. She’s everything good in her dad and I combined plus so much more brains, courage, and empathy. (She also has the hair I wish I were born with, and the legs. Sigh.) There’s no question God uniquely fashioned her for a great purpose, and I feel deeply privileged just to be her mama. I fully trust that her life will make an impact greater than the generations that have preceded her, and largely because of those who have gone before her. We’re all cheering her on.

I get it now. My parents saw so much more for me than I did for myself. (I’m pretty sure they still do.)

Madi got her Learners Driving License a few days ago. She got in through the driver’s door for the first time, while I slid into the passenger seat, my heart pounding. She practiced braking, accelerating, parking. As she gained confidence and hit the gas a little more freely, she kept smiling to herself.

I still recall that feeling, driving a car for the first time. I remember how it felt when I could actually drive away on my own–the sweet freedom, the unlimited possibilities, the radio controls and volume control all mine. Even a quick trip to the corner to pick up milk was an adventure.

I relived that thrill as I watched my daughter at the controls, tasting a little of her future. Each day her life is a little more definitely her own as she dreams of and practices independence. I know she feels it, as she sings to herself getting ready to go out with friends … and as she plunks down on the couch beside me and curls into my shoulder, more cuddly these days than she has ever been. This is new territory for her and it’s as overwhelming as it is exciting.

I’m definitely in no hurry to speed anything up, but I smile thinking of her future. It’s so much bigger than anything I’d dream of for myself.

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My dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments:

• Is the life you are living more than you could see for yourself when you were a child?
• Do you remember that first taste of freedom, driving a car by yourself?
• What are your memories of turning 16?

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About Angela:

Angela and her husband Rod have been married for 18 years and they have two children, Madison (16) and Miller (12). Angela works at Relate Church in Surrey, BC. She loves finding beauty in everyday life and is passionate about communicating the grace, hope and reality of a living Jesus.

On Beauty, B cups and Believing Our Way Back to Innocence

Seeking Eve Monday

“I wish to battle against the perspective that some people are ordinary and others are great … I really believe people can live ordinary lives in extraordinary ways.”

By Christina Crook

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Every woman who has given birth knows this is no ordinary feat. Yet, we are quick to reduce the enormity of our task to a brief remembering, a quaint vignette.

The truth is, every day we do the extraordinary.

We scrub floors on chaffed knees. Treat man, woman, child with dignity, with care. We climb corporate ladders. Extend our hands to the weak. We speak up when it’s uncomfortable. Rise at 3am to feed our babes.

We lead protests.

Carry petitions to the seat of Parliament. We train young eyes to seek Heaven. Deliver lasagna to the family next door. We watch for signs of Spring erupting all around us.

It’s extraordinarily normal women, like Andrea Dunbar, who make the world go round.

I first met Andrea in her tidy little bungalow in New Westminster, BC. The same house where her daughter Eden, was delivered by her father, a nurse, on the bathroom floor. The same home where the kitchen was full with the scent of fresh baking and the living room brim with the found and the made.

When I first asked to share Andrea’s story she declined, feeling she lived too much of a conventional life. For years I’ve hoped for a change of heart. This month, upon my return to British Columbia’s snowy interior, I got my wish.

“I regret my response to you when you [first] asked me to do this … I wish to battle against the perspective that some people are ordinary and others are great. I really believe that people can live ordinary lives in extraordinary ways,” she says from the small town of Mackenzie, where Andrea and her small family are spending the year with her in-laws.

While her husband, Robbie, works at the hospital, she is trying out homeschooling and getting out into the great outdoors with her two kids as often as possible.

Andrea is a public health nurse. When we first met she worked on Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside at a clinic that served many prostitutes and lower income women. Each workday she’d bike the 50-kilometer round-trip.

To those around her, Andrea is a source of inspiration, quietly challenging them with the daily choices she makes.

“She is very conscious of her stewardship of this earth,” says her friend, Renice. “In a way that is not at all brash, she makes every effort to care for the earth and the people in it.

She goes beyond recycling. She uses only cloth diapers, buys local and keeps her home organic inside and out. Aside from all that is “green” related, she supports local talent, whether it be art or music and quietly engages others to do the same. She loves to surround herself with all things beautiful even if it’s as simple as a single flower.

Andrea is a modern-day Eve. Seeking to live as a daughter loved by God, desiring her Father’s purposes, longing to look more like Jesus.

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In her own words …

Faith to me means … growing.

What I mean by that is … the people of faith that I most admire continue growing throughout their lives. When I was at Trinity Western University, 10 years ago, and thought I knew everything, the buzz word that I and my friends never wanted to describe us was “complacent.” When I was in university, I also greeted strangers with, “Did you know that Jesus loves you?” While my approach to people has changed–or “grown”–over the years, I still feel just as strongly about not becoming complacent. Knowing that I will continue to grow and learn, helps me look forward to getting older, despite the pervasive North American disdain for aging.

One of my favourite songs describes the Source of growth, life, beauty:

All this pain

I wonder if I’ll ever find my way

I wonder if my life could really change at all

All this earth

Could all that is lost ever be found

Could a garden come up from this ground at all

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things out of us

All around

Life is springing up from this old ground

Out of chaos life is being found in You

-”Beautiful Things” by Michael and Lisa Gungor

When I was little I … didn’t want my dad to touch me. I have a photo of my bewildered dad trying to pick me up. I am about 12 years old, my face is red, I am crying and my arms are folded self-consciously over my chest. My dad was a man of integrity and was simply trying to connect with his daughter in a playful way. However, my trust and innocence were destroyed by another man in my life, a close relative. He was a very religious man who preached that Christmas trees were idols and girls needed to wear dresses to church. At the same time, he touched and kissed me in sexual ways. When I realized that he was the reason that touch from my dad felt threatening to me, I had to mourn all those lost years when I could have felt safe in my dad’s hug or touch. I now feel grateful for God’s work of restoration and rescuing in my life despite the darkness that tried to bury me in fear and confusion. I still have so much to learn about accepting love from my Father.

My days are filled with … the voices of two special little people. I have a video clip on my iPhone that was taken by my daughter a few days ago. The video shows a side view of me with my head tilted down at a book and my long brown hair shielding my face. The sound track is her sweet little voice,

“Hi Mama! Mama, look! It’s me, Eden. Mama … Mama, look!”

At this point I move for the first time to look up with a dazed smile on my face, “Hi, how are you?”

When she showed me this video, we laughed together. I couldn’t believe how profound it was to see me through her eyes.

I wish … I could say that was my first delayed response to my kids. But it wasn’t. It happens far too often. Sometimes it happens when I am *gasp* texting or looking at Facebook. This little video has made me so much more aware of what that looks like to my kids.

On a larger scale, I also wish that the demand for child and women sex slaves and pornography would stop. I want this generation of boys and young men to be different than so many of their fathers. I want this generation of girls and young women to know how beautiful they are and to know that beauty is so much more than skin and shape. I raise and educate (home school) my son and daughter with these hopes. I am so grateful for the honourable example of my husband, Robbie, and my dad, Fritz. These men infuse hope into my life for a world that has more justice, peace and love for women.

Today I give myself permission …

- to have moments where I feel like a terrible mom and know that He makes beautiful things out of the dust.

- to be 5’3” with funky glasses, long straight hair, ‘athletic’ build, A sometimes B cup breasts, little white bumps that keep popping up on my face including one that is right at the corner of my eye, dark moles all over my body, and fair skin and to feel beautiful, confident and loved.

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Would you like to add your story to Seeking Eve Monday?

We’d love to hear your story. Please share it by emailing Christina at seekingeve[@]gmail.com

To find words for your story, try following these lines, as Andrea did:

Faith to me means [community / hope / food / sacrifice / art / etc] …

What I mean by that is …

When I was little I …

My days are filled with …

I wish …

The thing is …

Today I give myself permission …

______________

About Christina: 

Christina is a Toronto-based writer whose articles on culture, religion and technology have appeared in Vancouver, UPPERCASE and Geez magazine. She, her husband and two young children attend Grace Toronto Church. She is the founder of SeekingEve.ca and blogs at www.christinacrook.com.

I Like You Just the Way You Are

Tales from the Parenting Trenches

“In modeling compassion towards our children, we may teach them to be kind to themselves. We can help them develop the courage to be imperfect.”

By Sabrina Connell | Twitter: @sabrinaconnell

The past two weeks have been particularly challenging for me as a mother. Recently, my five-year-old son has taken his desire for autonomy to a new level that has reduced me to tears and gripped me with a churning stomach, dripping in sweaty frustration. I have had the overwhelming feeling that while I may love him, I haven’t necessarily liked him.

Downward Spiral

Together, my son and I have been pulling one another into an awful downward spiral of irritability. The more frequently he tantrum-ed, the more quickly I responded in a harsh manner–even when he may not have deserved it, which inevitably left him more likely to tantrum.

On and on the cycle continued.

After a long, drawn out match between us last night, I realized that my efforts to correct him had left him feeling bad, not with regret or remorse–which may have spurred a behaviour change–but with the feeling of being vulnerable, weak and disliked.

I’d failed to make it clear that it was not him, but his behavior that irritated me.

Perspective

Once I had time to step away from the heat of the moment, it occurred to me that his actions may have been the result of his insecurities  over changes in his preschool situation. He’s adjusting to an additional classroom, a different teacher, and a new set of peers. He’s feeling the turbulence that comes with change. Even as an adult, I hate being “new” because of the vulnerability that comes with it. How much worse is that feeling for a child whose identity and sense of self are just beginning to form?

A young child’s sense of self-worth develops slowly over a period of time and is strongly influenced by the behaviors of those individuals who are most important to her. Those who believe they are a source of joy and delight for others are more likely to develop a positive self-concept.

If a parent’s frustration consistently leaves a child feeling incompetent, it is likely that those feelings may become central to that child’s sense of self. Children confirm how they should feel about themselves by absorbing how others feel about them, and how a child feels about himself in his early years can set a pattern for the rest of his life.

School-aged children, in particular, are often consumed by the question: “Do they like me?”

Imperfection allowed

By nature, we are all flawed and vulnerable, yet we are designed to desire the approval of others. It’s important for our children to realize that imperfection is okay, that when they are unpleasant, they are still loveable and likeable.

Dr. Brene Brown, a professor of social work at the University of Houston, says our job is to look to our children and say, “You’re imperfect, and you’re wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.” In modeling compassion towards our children, we may teach them to be kind to themselves. We can help them develop the courage to be imperfect.

I missed my mothering mark this week and forgot to show compassion. I missed an opportunity to remind my son that I liked him, despite his flaws. Can one lousy week ruin his self-esteem and sense of self? I doubt it, but admittedly I have some damage repair to do. I need to work towards a discipline of maintaining my own composure and enforcing a consistent consequence when he acts out. In my case, this means walking away and allowing myself time to decompress before engaging in negotiations with him. I also have to be conscientious about balancing my critique of his behavior with positive and affirming statements.

Fred Rogers, ended each episode of his television program Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood by saying to his young audience: “You’ve made this day a special day just by being you. There’s no person in the whole world like you and I like you just the way you are.”

These have become my go-to lines with my own kids. Of course they’ll need updating as my children age, but for now they seem to work.

At the end of the day, I am the only mother on the planet that has the pleasure of embracing my kids–no other mother gets to experience them. When I consider that, I feel immeasurably grateful.

_____________________________________

So, my SheLoves sisters, I would love to know:

• What practices or routines do you use to remind your children they are likeable and worthy of love?
• What parenting challenges have you been experiencing?
• Any other thoughts or comments?

____________________________

• View Brene Brown’s TED Talk
• For more Fred-spiration, check out my favourite song of his, “It’s you I like.”

____________________________

About Sabrina:

An artist-turned-academic, Sabrina spends her days navigating between a wide variety of roles including that of mother, wife, graduate student, researcher and daydreamer. She is currently a doctoral student in the Communication Studies program at Northwestern University where she researches the various ways in which children and parents engage media and technology and the potential effects these interactions might have on the development of children. Prior to her time at Northwestern, Sabrina earned a Master’s degree in child development from Tufts University, as well as a Master of Arts in puppetry from the University of Connecticut. She has a passion for all things involving play, whimsy and the art of nurturing.

Tantrum image from thestir.cafemom.com

Imperfection image from flickr.com

Wellness Wednesday: Why Hide? My Journey of Hope, Faith and Overcoming

By Kerstin Knaack | Twitter: @KerstinKnaack

” If I don’t share my life and the difficult journey I have made, it will be harder for God to work through me.”

I am ten weeks pregnant. It takes courage for me to tell you that.

Why? This is my fourth pregnancy–my first three babies are in heaven.

I am from Germany. There, we don’t usually tell people we are pregnant until the fourth month of pregnancy. But several weeks ago, I went to Brazil and found out the women there announce their pregnancies as soon as they have a positive test in their hands. I asked why they do this, considering most miscarriages occur within the first three months. They said that in their culture, they celebrate and mourn together. If something happens to the baby, they come to the mother’s side, offering everything from a big hug to cooking for her or massaging her feet. Whatever she needs, they journey with her.

Loss

My first miscarriage was in 2009 in the eighth week; the second was in 2011 in the 33rd week and the third was at the end of 2011 in the 12th week. All these losses were difficult, but to give birth to a dead baby in the ninth month of pregnancy was definitely the most painful.

After the third miscarriage, I wasn’t able to pray or worship. My heart ached, but I had good friends who carried me through. When I was far from God, they spoke life and truth over me. My church gathered around and carried me. When I couldn’t pray, they prayed for me; when I couldn’t worship, they worshiped for me.

I knew that death doesn’t come from God — He is love and nothing bad comes from him—but He did allow this to happen.

Restoration

After several weeks, I reached a place where I was able to think about my situation in a different way. If God allowed this to happen, there must be something good within these situations. This was a turning point for me—I wanted to turn bad into good. It was a decision, not a feeling. I chose to no longer accept being bound by lies.

So many good things happened as a result of my miscarriages:

- my marriage to my husband Rainer became stronger and we decided to give 100 percent of our lives to God, stepping into His purpose for us

- the opportunity developed to do an internship at Relate Church, Canada, with Pastors John and Helen Burns

- my father returned to my life after 28 years of rejection

- friends put their lives into Jesus’ hands.

Overcoming

From now on, I will no longer hide. I have discovered that it is healthy for me to talk about how I feel and which thoughts and emotions have kept me away from God. If I don’t share my life and the difficult journey I have made, it will be harder for God to work through me. I want Him to use me to help other women and to fulfill His plan.

That’s why I am openly telling people that I am pregnant for the fourth time.

Is it easy for me to enjoy my pregnancy? Definitely not. Every day I am reminded of the past, the positive pregnancy tests; pictures of my big belly; the ultrasounds; the decorated nursery; the movements in my belly; memories of the day I was told our daughter had passed away; the pain of giving birth to a dead baby and the joy of having her in our arms;  Rainer’s love letter to our new daughter; the invoice from the funeral parlor.

Stepping Forward in Faith

How do I deal with these images and the daily fear of possibly having the same pain again? There is no magic solution–it’s a journey every day. I think back to those Brazilian women, who understand what sisterhood means and I know that if I fall, my sisterhood will carry me. And I talk about it. If I am overwhelmed by fear, I ask my husband or a friend to help me.

The opposite of fear is faith. God holds my life in His hands. I trust Him.

________________________________________________

 About Kerstin

Kerstin Knaack was born and raised in the city of Kirchheim, Germany. She and her husband Rainer are currently involved in an internship at Relate Church in Surrey, BC, where they are learning to be leaders and teachers in the area of  marriage, family and sexuality.  Their long-term vision is to teach on these topics and to raise a large family of their own.

When Grace Trumps Perfection

Confessions of a Far-From-Perfect Wife and Mom

By Angela Doell | Twitter: @adoell

It’s early morning and I’m curled up like a cat in my favourite place by the window, watching the sky crack open. I sip the first of my coffee, feeling grateful once again for the newness of the day. Heaven’s permission to start over. Fresh mercy. The Bible in my lap waits, open to Proverbs, but my eyes are drawn to the sky with expectancy. The shifting, fractured clouds promise light.

There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in. -Leonard Cohen

I’m relieved this morning to leave yesterday behind. It wasn’t my finest. The short story: I’d come home a little late from work, wearing the day like a tight girdle. I quickly shifted into Mom mode, pulled together a passable dinner, and gathered my favourites to eat. Sadly … within three minutes of sitting down something set me off and I fully and pitifully lost the cool I’d been trying to maintain all day. I’d interpreted a comment about the meal as criticism.

Tears came so fast I could only attempt damage control. I wasn’t precious about the food or especially offended by what was said–my emotions just hijacked the moment. Our dinnertime consisted of me pushing my food around on the plate and trying to sneak quick sleeve-wipes of my eyes and dripping nose while my family ate in silence and snuck sidewise glances, wondering if Mom was losing it. (I was, for the record. I was losing it.)

The rest of the night wasn’t much better.

I’m imperfect. My marriage needs attention. My parenting could use some work. Part of me really hates it when my husband and kids witness my frail, brittle, tired bits. I feel better about presenting them with my best performance. I dream of being unquestionably strong and capable, always fully present.

I could probably fake perfect for a while if I really tried, but my kids are so wise to me. I can’t hide much from my husband. What’s real, and what the morning sunrise reminds me of, is that the broken me is enough.

I’m a wife and mom in need of grace, just as they are. 

I’m sure today will hold conversations. Opportunity for redemption. My prayer is that my family will know my weaknesses as well as God’s mercy as we walk this thing out. I pray that as our children grow and inevitably experience insecurity and weakness themselves, they’ll know from experience that Grace makes a way.

God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,
   his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.
They’re created new every morning.
   How great your faithfulness!

Lamentations 3:22-23 MSG

Photo: Creative Commons

About Angela:

Angela and her husband Rod have been married for 18 years and they have two children, Madison (15) and Miller (12). Angela works at Relate Church in Surrey, BC. She loves finding beauty in everyday life and is passionate about communicating the grace, hope and reality of a living Jesus.

Tales from the Parenting Trenches: Navigating Life with “Spirited” Children

“Our son had so many tantrums as an infant and toddler that every family picture his older sister drew, depicted him with a purple face.” 

By Sabrina Connell | Twitter: @sabrinaconnell

I often tease that my kids are like Gremlins. Remember those little creatures? Feed them after midnight or expose them to water and you create a monster. Only in the case of my children, rather than food or water, the impetus for their transformation into tiny, unmanageable little creatures might be exposure to particular textures; or the word “no.”

I’m convinced children should come with warning labels. If they did, our son’s most likely would have said something like, “Prepare for disagreement. Tantrums resulting in head-banging and loss of breath. Fainting may occur.”

Our daughter’s would have read: “Avoid contact with moderate light or noise, clothing tags and seams.”

The early years of parenting are particularly challenging as the time is so often spent managing the intensity of our children’s most exhausting characteristics. We could always count on our daughter to become over-stimulated, overwhelmed and victim to her powerful imagination. Likewise, we could expect our son to collapse into a raging fit at least once during every outing. As I tried to maintain my composure and sanity, both compromised by sleepless nights and the constant soothing and attention the kids required through the day, I read every popular parenting book I could find that addressed “high needs” children.

In the book Your Fussy Baby, I came across a chart that the author, Dr. William Sears, had compiled, listing descriptive words parents use to label their young children during those more challenging years of nurture and reframing them as descriptive words for similar traits as teenagers and adults. I printed the chart and put it on our refrigerator, stealing away glances as I grabbed the milk, gently reminding myself to keep some perspective.

The Changing Personality Profile of the High Need Child 

The words you use to describe your high-need child will change over the years, as the traits that so exhausted you during infancy are channeled into qualities that will make your child an interesting, dynamic adult. Try to think of your child’s personality in a positive light and look ahead. Labels that seem like negatives will be positive traits in your child’s future personality.

[Download as PDF:  THE CHANGING PERSONALITY PROFILE OF THE HIGH NEED CHILD.]  Source: www.askdrsears.com

Of course, it all makes sense when we think about it. The traits that drive us most crazy about our children now, are often exactly the types of traits we’d like them to have as adults. Our son had so many tantrums as an infant and toddler that every family picture his older sister drew, depicted him with a purple face. Five years later, has he become less persistent? No. But he manifests that same persistence and passion now as an intense commitment to tasks, taking on challenging puzzles and working through problems rather than giving up.

Does his unwavering desire for debate drive me crazy? Absolutely. I would love it if, just once in a while when I ask him to do something, he’d respond with a “yes” the first time. However, I like to hope that the go-against-the-flow attitude he so willingly practices with me will one day translate into an ability to question the judgment and requests of his friends and avoid peer pressure. Recent research suggests it may.

When our daughter was in kindergarten, she came home quite disturbed after she witnessed a friend shove a raisin up his nose far enough to warrant a trip to the school nurse. Afterwards, our daughter avoided solid food for four days, subsisting on yogurt she would lick, before she came to us in a desperate panic asking to go to the emergency room. She was convinced a raisin was lodged in her own nose, accidentally shoved up there at some point when she may have missed her mouth while eating. I found myself sobbing with laughter before I could muster the seriousness I needed to calm her down and remind her that the raisin episode was something she had seen at school and not something she had done herself.

The sensitivity and imagination that overpowered her then, has since allowed her to be acutely aware of what others around her may be feeling. She demonstrates empathy beyond her years. Similarly, whatever internal mechanism caused her to respond so severely to clothing tags, seams and loud noises has opened her senses and allowed her to be moved deeply by music, poetry and beauty. I’ve come to think of her sensitivity as her own personal superpower.

When my children behave in such a way that leaves me counting down the minutes or hours until bedtime, I try to pause and consider how their behavior might benefit them when they are mature, self-controlled adults. It’s not an easy process. In the heat of the moment, when I’m frustrated by the fact that I’ve just spent the past 15 minutes arguing over which shoes my son will wear to school, I need to be careful that I don’t assert parental control in a manner that runs the risk of breaking his spirit just “because I said so.” Finding the balance between establishing boundaries and encouraging our children’s development of “self” takes practice and is something that none of us manages to perfect, but we can take comfort in knowing that the return on our investment is immeasurable.

For more advice on parenting spirited children, check out:

• Living with Intensity by Susan Daniels and Michael Piechowski
• Raising Your Spirited Child by Mary Sheedy Kurcinka

___________________________

Dear SheLoves readers, I would love to hear:

• Which of your children’s behaviors test your patience?
• Can you think of how their behavior might benefit them if channeled appropriately?
• What are some strategies you use to avoid being overwhelmed by those more challenging moments of parenting?

_________________________________

About Sabrina:

An artist-turned-academic, Sabrina spends her days navigating between a wide variety of roles including that of mother, wife, graduate student, researcher and daydreamer. She is currently a doctoral student in the Communication Studies program at Northwestern University where she researches the various ways in which children and parents engage media and technology and the potential effects these interactions might have on the development of children. Prior to her time at Northwestern, Sabrina earned a Master’s degree in child development from Tufts University, as well as a Master of Arts in puppetry from the University of Connecticut. She has a passion for all things involving play, whimsy and the art of nurturing.