Four Times to the Fire
We are into summer now. Our days are filled with catching up with tasks we've shelved during the year, tending our yard, biking, and swimming lessons. There are some family get-togethers here and there. Plus a balanced dose of literacy, including numeracy, to keep your grade levels up.
This is the last summer before both of you enter the world of school. I too will dust off my teaching skills and enter the classroom as a casual substitute teacher. I am looking forward to the change. Yet, I hold my breath during this moment in time, cherishing this stage of full-time homemaking, which will soon be past (for now, anyway).
There are still days when I do pause and reflect on whether or not we could have extended this season of preschool parenting. We are a two-kid family, a decision that was not accepted flippantly, but rather with much deliberation and disquietude (especially on my part). In spite of the permanency of our decision, those uncomfortable moments do arise, when the conversations meander to the subject of large families, and how large families tend to produce children who are less entitled. And in such a moment, I want to stand up and defend my reasons to stop procreating (hoping people understand) while underscoring our intention to raise you more selfless than selfish (truly, a work of the Holy Spirit, more than ours). Yes, we are a small family. But that doesn't mean you two kids will get whatever you want!
I recently finished a great book, entitled "Tilly: A Story of Hope and Resilience" by Monique Gray Smith. The story is about a women of Cree, Lakotan & Scottish ancestry. The story is an incredibly hopeful journey of healing from alcoholism. While I wasn't able to truly empathize with the struggles of our nation's First Peoples, I was able to understand and appreciate their voice through the eyes of one young woman. I especially appreciated the character Bea, Tilly's healing counselor. Even though Bea lead Tilly towards healing through Native Spiritually, not all of which I agree with, many of her ideas resonated with my own Christian beliefs.
For instance, there is one powerful passage in the book where Bea speaks of forgiveness and letting go. In the following passage, Tilly is grieving over a lost relationship, and approaches Bea for the fourth time about her ex-boyfriend. Consider Bea's words:
This passage resonated with me. When was the last time we were encouraged to do just what Bea advised? When was the last time someone journeyed alongside me to walk me through my healing and gave me permission to rehash my pain or disappointment four times (and more importantly, when have I done that for someone else?). And when was the last time someone gently exhorted me to move on, to let go, to forgive and prayed with me to find divine release?
As humans, we struggle with truly listening to someone. Often, we are just waiting for a moment to interrupt a conversation and add our two cents. In the end, our selfish hearts care more about our own story than someone else's. We really don't want to honestly SEE the other person. Because that means we get entangled in someone else's pain or, worst yet, jealous over someone else's joy. And I am guilty of this sin. How many times do I bypass your stories and tidbits to move on to another task that is more important in my eyes? Too many to count, I sadly admit. For that, I ask your forgiveness.
We also struggle with giving and receiving correction from those who do love us. We are quite apt to vent to some trusted person about our issues in life. And we are also willing to listen to another person's problems once, maybe twice. After that, we either bury our hurts or put on the guise of a listener. Forget about receiving or offering gentle, yet firm, exhortation! We might get offended -- even deeply hurt! Or be accused of judging if we offer our advice.
I wonder if this is one of the reasons why authentic discipleship is lacking in Christian circles. Or why even day-to-day relationships fail to go deeper. It is like we hit a wall in our relationships, and we realize that either we need to become more vulnerable with each other OR perpetually stay at the emotional plateau we've achieved. The sad thing is if we choose to stay at the plateau, it usually begins to slant downwards. The relationship stops growing, together. And within time, you are strangers again.
Back to the two-kid family. I've realized how much "letting go" is the process and how I need to move on. I've come to understand that only a few people have the time to see me in my struggle and how such people are beautiful "Cookie People"* to my spirit. I've also been humbled with my lack of empathy for others, how I am not willing to sit and listen to their issues four times versus once. And I have been challenged to not fear speaking up, exhorting, encouraging those whom I love -- after truly listening -- so they can be all that they were designed to be by their Creator God and Father.
I pray God enables me to let you bring your hurts, your problems, your pain four times to the fire, so you can heal, let go, forgive and grow. May I learn to listen more than speak and speak only what is necessary.
*Cookie People: "These special people in our lives, they don't always like our behaviour, but they love us, and they see what we could be. They see the gifts the Creator has given us, and they're always encouraging us to discover and use them... Those people in our lives are like cookies to our spirit. When we are around 'em, we feel good about ourselves." (Bea, pg. 136 of "Tilly: A Story of Hope and Resilience").
This is the last summer before both of you enter the world of school. I too will dust off my teaching skills and enter the classroom as a casual substitute teacher. I am looking forward to the change. Yet, I hold my breath during this moment in time, cherishing this stage of full-time homemaking, which will soon be past (for now, anyway).
There are still days when I do pause and reflect on whether or not we could have extended this season of preschool parenting. We are a two-kid family, a decision that was not accepted flippantly, but rather with much deliberation and disquietude (especially on my part). In spite of the permanency of our decision, those uncomfortable moments do arise, when the conversations meander to the subject of large families, and how large families tend to produce children who are less entitled. And in such a moment, I want to stand up and defend my reasons to stop procreating (hoping people understand) while underscoring our intention to raise you more selfless than selfish (truly, a work of the Holy Spirit, more than ours). Yes, we are a small family. But that doesn't mean you two kids will get whatever you want!
I recently finished a great book, entitled "Tilly: A Story of Hope and Resilience" by Monique Gray Smith. The story is about a women of Cree, Lakotan & Scottish ancestry. The story is an incredibly hopeful journey of healing from alcoholism. While I wasn't able to truly empathize with the struggles of our nation's First Peoples, I was able to understand and appreciate their voice through the eyes of one young woman. I especially appreciated the character Bea, Tilly's healing counselor. Even though Bea lead Tilly towards healing through Native Spiritually, not all of which I agree with, many of her ideas resonated with my own Christian beliefs.
For instance, there is one powerful passage in the book where Bea speaks of forgiveness and letting go. In the following passage, Tilly is grieving over a lost relationship, and approaches Bea for the fourth time about her ex-boyfriend. Consider Bea's words:
Before we go any farther with this, I need to tell you about the fire. One of the teachings I had was about bringing a problem or hurt to the fire. A person has the right to bring that problem to the fire four times and have it listened to by those sitting round the fire. In return, you must take their guidance and direction and continue to move forward in your healing. If you don't, you no longer have the right to bring your problem to the fire or to seek guidance. Now, you and me, we've talk about Jessie and moving on three times. I'm not being of service to you if I keep sitting here listening without challenging you to let go... You've been working hard, Tilly, and that's why I'm doing this. It's time to let go and to forgive. Forgiveness is one of the hardest things to do, but also so important in our healing. (pg. 160 - 161)
This passage resonated with me. When was the last time we were encouraged to do just what Bea advised? When was the last time someone journeyed alongside me to walk me through my healing and gave me permission to rehash my pain or disappointment four times (and more importantly, when have I done that for someone else?). And when was the last time someone gently exhorted me to move on, to let go, to forgive and prayed with me to find divine release?
As humans, we struggle with truly listening to someone. Often, we are just waiting for a moment to interrupt a conversation and add our two cents. In the end, our selfish hearts care more about our own story than someone else's. We really don't want to honestly SEE the other person. Because that means we get entangled in someone else's pain or, worst yet, jealous over someone else's joy. And I am guilty of this sin. How many times do I bypass your stories and tidbits to move on to another task that is more important in my eyes? Too many to count, I sadly admit. For that, I ask your forgiveness.
We also struggle with giving and receiving correction from those who do love us. We are quite apt to vent to some trusted person about our issues in life. And we are also willing to listen to another person's problems once, maybe twice. After that, we either bury our hurts or put on the guise of a listener. Forget about receiving or offering gentle, yet firm, exhortation! We might get offended -- even deeply hurt! Or be accused of judging if we offer our advice.
I wonder if this is one of the reasons why authentic discipleship is lacking in Christian circles. Or why even day-to-day relationships fail to go deeper. It is like we hit a wall in our relationships, and we realize that either we need to become more vulnerable with each other OR perpetually stay at the emotional plateau we've achieved. The sad thing is if we choose to stay at the plateau, it usually begins to slant downwards. The relationship stops growing, together. And within time, you are strangers again.
Back to the two-kid family. I've realized how much "letting go" is the process and how I need to move on. I've come to understand that only a few people have the time to see me in my struggle and how such people are beautiful "Cookie People"* to my spirit. I've also been humbled with my lack of empathy for others, how I am not willing to sit and listen to their issues four times versus once. And I have been challenged to not fear speaking up, exhorting, encouraging those whom I love -- after truly listening -- so they can be all that they were designed to be by their Creator God and Father.
I pray God enables me to let you bring your hurts, your problems, your pain four times to the fire, so you can heal, let go, forgive and grow. May I learn to listen more than speak and speak only what is necessary.
*Cookie People: "These special people in our lives, they don't always like our behaviour, but they love us, and they see what we could be. They see the gifts the Creator has given us, and they're always encouraging us to discover and use them... Those people in our lives are like cookies to our spirit. When we are around 'em, we feel good about ourselves." (Bea, pg. 136 of "Tilly: A Story of Hope and Resilience").