Finding Color in the Gray

Yesterday, my kids were on the computer and clicked on “My Videos.” Now, my husband has a Mac, so our six-year-old pc isn’t used much for things like videos. That is why I was curious about a video that we had saved on our desktop. What I found on the monitor played at my heartstrings – it was a home movie of Anneliese, just a couple of months old, “talking” to her daddy. The sound wasn’t on, but I could tell by the way her mouth was moving that she was making the coos and ehs and other squealing noises all my babies made. Since I know I’ll never experience that again from one of my own, I stopped to remember. I had flashbacks to the sounds and smells (and even fatigue) of that stage. I also felt a twinge of pain and sadness. I couldn’t remember it quite as vividly as I wanted to, and like I said, I was never going to experience one of those moments again.

Before I was a mother, and even in the earlier years of motherhood, I was determined to remember everything. I kept pregnancy journals for the first three kids. I wrote everything down in Jeremiah’s baby book, and did pretty well with Elia’s too. Anneliese’s babyhood was recorded on paper in detail for the first few weeks, and Maxson’s hasn’t gone so well. It’s been the same way with photos and videos. Like nearly every other family with multiple children, we have hundreds of photos of Jeremiah’s first week, while Maxson’s first week is recorded on maybe the equivalent of one roll of film.

It makes me sad that I can’t recall exact moments anymore, or who exactly pronounced “kitchen” and “chicken” the same. The other day, Anneliese asked me, “When I was a baby, how did I say juice?” That memory has been crowded out by the menu for next week that I’m writing out in my head.

I wish I could remember all those details. I feel like if I could go back to those moments in my mind, then I would also remember the feeling of adoration I had for my babies, my toddlers, then my preschoolers… But those memories are gone.

However, the feelings aren’t. They’re all packaged in the admiration and love I feel for each of them today. When I saw the coos coming from the baby in the video, the bittersweet feelings I had weren’t for the baby I saw on the screen, but for the little girl who at the time was snuggled into her bed, getting ready for another fun day of Jr. Kindergarten.

Another memory I have took place late at night, when I crawled into bed after a long day. It was Jeremiah’s third birthday, and I threw an amazing party. I used the Toy Story theme and had converted the garage into outer space. I constructed a rocket ship out of an old refrigerator box, complete with Christmas lights all around. It was so much work and so much fun. My little boy had a blast.

When I got in bed, however, I started crying. When Henry asked why, I told him, “I just realized that even though I threw this incredible party for Jeremiah today, even though he had a really good time, he’s going to forget how much fun he had today, and he’s still going to hate me when he’s a teenager!”

Henry comforted me and let me talk. I came to the conclusion that it was still worth it. Everything I do for my kids – all the work I put into nurturing and celebrating them – it all contributes to who they are and our present and future relationship. The details will get crowded out in their minds, but they will still have the overall sense that I noticed and cared.

I realize that same principle applies to how I feel toward my kids. I can’t vividly remember everything I adored about them two years ago, two months ago, or even two days ago. The details are being crowded out by more urgent things. But the special feelings I had then and have today contribute to the love and admiration I will have for them tomorrow.

Keeping up-to-date with photos and baby books to preserve memories is special. However, what matters most is building into who my children are today. The love I feel for them right now isn’t going to fade away with this passing moment, but it’s going to combine with tomorrow’s love, and the next day’s, and the next day’s. Because it’s all about the long-term – accumulative love.

In the previous post, you see how the Clupny family gets their house cleaned each week. In this one, I will share how we use Yvette’s system. It’s slightly different because every family has a different dynamic, but it still works really well.

Before I share our method, I want you to know why I do this. Sometimes I struggle with the idea of expecting my kids to help clean. Here are the different thoughts that go through my head: 1. It’s hard to take the time to teach them and requires a lot of patience. 2. I could get it done a lot faster and done right if I just do it myself. 3. I’m a stay at home mom; isn’t it my job to clean the house? 4. They don’t like it, and sometimes it’s like pulling teeth to get them to help. 5. I’d rather just do it when they’re not around. 6. They’re just kids! They should be playing and having fun!

But the truth is when kids feel like they are contributing to their family, there are many benefits. Primarily, they feel more confident and they feel like they belong. I don’t have my kids help me because I don’t want to do it; I have them help because they are better people because they do.

Now my tangent’s over. Back to the method!

On Friday nights, I try to get the clutter picked up so it’s not in the way of the cleaning. Before going to bed, I pick out the chores that I feel need to be done the next day. I wrote ours on index cards in Zonio-kid-sized tasks. (I’ll put our list at the end.) The next morning, as kids wake up, they pick their chores. Like Yvette, I have the final say to make sure they’re picking a good load for their age, allowing easier jobs to be chosen by younger siblings. I also make sure that each of the older two pick at least one “floor” chore (sweeping, mopping, or vacuuming) since there are a lot of them and it tends to be more involved.

The kids watch their tv or play, we eat breakfast, Henry or I get the dishes washed and put away. (I prefer to not have that as one of the chosen chores since it’s a routine one.) I go through one last time and get all the clutter put away.

We try to start by 10 and usually are hungry for lunch just before we’re done. We try to dangle some kind of carrot for them – Wii family tournament, McDonald’s for lunch, outing, whatever…

The rest is pretty much like Yvette. For us, Jeremiah (10) and Elia (8) can work pretty independently; they need a bit of guidance, but not too much. With Anneliese (4), it’s easier if one of us works with her because she’s still learning how to do things thoroughly. As for Maxson (2), well, sometimes it’s easier to just let him tag along. He gets involved in the cleaning, but his attention span is pretty short, so most of the time we let him hang out with us or play. He still gets involved, but not with complete responsibility for any particular chore.

Last but not least, heres a list of the chores I select from for Saturday mornings:

• Upstairs toilet and sink
• Downstairs toilet and sink
• Both bathtubs/showers
• Sweep and mop both bathroom floors
• Sweep living/dining room area
• Sweep kitchen, hall, and stair well
• Mop living/dining room area
• Mop kitchen, hall, and stair well
• Dust living room furniture
• Wipe window sills and picture frames
• Clean garbage cans (stainless steel) and mirrors
• Dust kitchen shelves
• Wipe down kitchen cupboards
• Bleach sink, wipe counters, clean dish drainer and toaster
• Clean inside and out of fridge
• Clean microwave, stovetop, outside of oven, and dishwasher
• Sweep front steps and sidewalk
• Clean Storm door inside and out
• Disinfect doorknobs
• Wipe door frames
• Wipe down table and chairs
• Vacuum basement, stairs, and laundry room rugs
• Vacuum living room and hall rugs

So if you’re trying to find a way to include your kids and teaching them how to clean, give it a try. See how this might work for your family! If you do, come back and tell us what you did and how it worked. If you have another method, what is it? Share your ideas!

Okay, so I will my humble myself and admit to you that our home has not been cleaned since November 7. That’s not to say the dishes haven’t been washed, the laundry put away, or the clutter controlled. And when you have a dog, it’s amazing how “clean” your floors can seem.

Until November 7, our family had been doing what we call “Pocket Chores.” It’s a system my friend passed on to me. She’s a mom of five, and each Saturday morning, they are able to clean their entire home, from bathrooms to baseboards to the outdoor grill, in two and a half hours. We don’t accomplish quite as much in a morning because her kids are mostly teenagers, her youngest being eleven, and our oldest is only ten. But we’re still able to get a lot done, and it’s made it possible for me to take care of other important tasks during the week without stressing about house cleaning.

The system worked really, really well for us three weeks in a row. Even the kids most reluctant to help out worked really hard with very little complaining.

But then Elia’s birthday party happened. And dinner theatre rehearsals. And a much-needed mini-vacation. I feel like I’ve been working like crazy to take care of the next urgent thing. Cleaning has not been a priority, and you can tell by the bits of hair, water spots, and orange-y puddles accumulating on our bathroom sink. Disgusting.

When we do finally get this house clean again, it will be such a satisfying feeling because the transformation will be so dramatic. I guess that’s the upside to not cleaning for so long! The difference is much more noticeable! My favourite part will be seeing how proud my kids are of their hard work and contribution to our family home.

Just a few days ago, Jeremiah said, “Mom, we haven’t done our pocket chores in a long time.” He actually sounded like he wanted to clean again. A good sign. And so, tomorrow morning we’ll let the kids sleep in and recover from their roles in tonight’s “A Christmas Carol” production. But after breakfast, we’ll crank up the Christmas tunes and make this house sparkle, glisten, glimmer, and shimmer – just in time for Advent to begin on Sunday.

*Originally posted January 16, 2009

Anneliese has been a sponge lately. For the past few months, she’s been trying to identify rhyming words: “Mommy! ‘Car’ and ‘cat’ rhyme!” Well, the first letters are the same. She’s been learning to identify letters of the alphabet and is trying to wrap her brain around the idea that each letter represents a sound. And she learned how to count things too. Most of the time she gets it right.

Not only has she shown new academic prowess, but she’s showing deeper interest in spiritual things too. This past fall she started asking a lot of questions about God, like “Where is God? Is He sitting next to me? Why can’t I see Him?” and “Why can’t I hear Jesus talking to me?” Since I have two older kids, I know that developmentally she is right on target. These are the questions that three-almost-four-year-olds ask.

Recently, I’ve had a few conversations with moms about kids and God. Their three and four-year-old children have been asking questions about death and heaven and hell. It’s hard explaining unknown, abstract ideas like that to their young minds. Kids get hung up on the scary parts, like hell and death.

Anneliese broached this topic yesterday.
“But that’s okay if they die because they come back to life. Right, Mommy?”
You already know how I answered that one. We’d had similar exchanges before, but this time it clicked for her. Death, when it comes to our physical selves, is permanent.

“Are you going to die someday, Mommy?”
“But who’s going to babysit me?”
“Am I going to die someday?”

She was starting to get upset. I tried telling her that she didn’t need to worry about it for now, that we weren’t going to die until God decided it was the right time, and that it probably wouldn’t be for a long time. It wasn’t working.

I decided to move on to the good news – that we would be going to heaven – but unfortunately, she didn’t take it so well.

“But I don’t want to go to heaven! I want to stay home!” The tears were flowing.

My little Liesie is very shy and clingy. To her, a big place with lots of people, whether she knows them or not, is scary. She even clams up with Auntie Christen when she sees her at church.

But then I thought of another approach.

Last August, her special friend from across the street moved 18 hours away. And since last summer, she has been asking at least weekly when will we move to a new house far away. She wants a new pretty room with stripes and flowers.

So I presented her with this thought:
“Going to heaven is like waking up in a new house. It’s that pretty new room you’ve been talking about with stripes and flowers. It’s like your new house is Disneyland!”

And something clicked. She could see past death and the unknown. She could see that heaven was the fulfillment of her dreams.

“But what if I’m shy of God?”
She came up with a response on her own:
“Last year I was shy of Santa, so I won’t be shy of God anymore.”

And then just to be sure, she started asking questions:
“Will there be pets in heaven?”
“Will there be colouring in heaven?”
I answered “yes” to all of them, and I even told her that there were no bad guys or monsters there.

“What will I do in heaven?”
“You and Jesus will do somersaults together!”
“And even cartwheels? But I don’t know how to do cartwheels.”
“In heaven you will!”
“And Elia can do cartwheels with Jesus too!”
She was so excited and full of anticipation.

The Bible college graduate in me was being fought off with the Scripture that tells me, “God is the Giver of all good things” and the one that paints a picture of Jesus saying, “Let the children come to Me. Don’t let your adult ideals stop them from running into My arms.”

When I was relaying this conversation to my pastor-husband, I could see him cringing internally. So I asked him, “What if John had been a three-and-half-year-old girl?”

It wouldn’t have been streets of gold and mansions in glory that he described. It would’ve been flying ponies and somersaults, and stripes and flowers, and fluffy puppies that never grow big or bite.

Which leads me to think…
if John had been a 36 ½ year old woman, maybe he would’ve had visions of warm, sunny skies over cool, breezy meadows without bees. And Jesus would be sitting under a tree, smiling at him as he did cartwheels.

I subscribe to a blog called Holy Experience. It is a simple blog, rich with beauty and meaning and peaceful photographs. Today’s post was about how her family reads the Bible together, but it gave me a new perspective on how to include it in our day.

You would probably be more affected by the post if you were to read it yourself, so I encourage you to do so. However, if you want my “Cliff’s Notes” version of it, here goes. The whole premise of their habit is “Man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by everything that proceeds out of the mouth of the Lord.” (Deut. 8:3)

Ann Voskamp’s husband grew up in a home where no one was dismissed from the table until they had feasted on the Word. “You never leave the table until you have chewed the Real Bread.” She and her husband have continued the tradition in their own home. I have included the last portion of her post here because the way she wrote it is just beautiful: 

• We read 10-15 verses at a time, chronologically through a book of the Bible, less with little children, more with older. We want to savor, chew long.
• We close in prayer, voices around the table, sometimes too with a hymn
• We give each person their own Bible, their own serving, so each person can see Words, what they’re eating.
• We meditate, listen to the Spirit, let each quietly chew the words.
• We read the Words aloud together, eat like a communal meal. Like we help little ones eat with the fork, we help little ones with words — oh how they smile, reading Scripture on their own…
• We discuss, serve the Words around. Children explain meaning, offer summaries, ask questions. Parents taste conviction, confess, repent.

It seems long. It isn’t.

It seems good. It is — but only for us. But there are many ways for a family to eat Living Words and no one right way. As gathering in each family’s home is a beautiful one-of-a-kind experience, so each family eats Words in their own special, creative way.

It seems perfect. It isn’t. Days when I sadly want to rush, when children tussle over Bibles (and they are all the same!), when we read too fast and a little cries and no one pays attention. But some meals too are simply edible, hardly memorable, but we don’t stop eating. We try the dish again or we change the way we eat or we just smile and set the table with candles next time.

Always, we eat again.

We eat again.

If you’re looking for a new method for family devotions, this might be a great place to start. If you need inspiration, this could very well give you that too. Either way, I hope you’re encouraged to find a way to feast on God’s Word with your family.