Perspective

I remember the first time I realized how different my perspective of things could be from Jason's. We were married, but didn't have children yet. I told Jason one night in a very matter-of-fact tone that my children would never work in a place where they would not be surrounded by Christians. Jason immediately, strongly, disagreed. He won this argument, because he played a trump card I could not counter. Jason came to Jesus as a result of a girl he worked with at Arby's in high school.
"Her parents might not have been thrilled about her working there, but I'll bet you're glad she did!"

Uh, yes Honey.
I am.
Now if you'll excuse I need to go hide and repent for my narrow-minded ways.

Jason and I grew up very differently. Take Halloween for example. My sisters and I would dress up as angels or something, and go to our church party. Jason, on the other hand, dressed up like a vampire for several consecutive years. It makes for funny conversations.
So now we have children of our own. And while I have nothing against innocent costumes, getting bags of candy, or carving pumpkins, I have been very hesitant about Halloween. People in the grocery store used to ask Natalie what she would be for Halloween. Instead of commenting about how she likes to dress up like princesses, or even saying, "I don't know," I would say, "We don't really do Halloween."
Now Natalie is four, and old enough to speak for herself. For the first time, I thought it would be fun to carve a pumpkin this year. Natalie was thrilled. And all through the store she would tell any random passer-by, "We're getting a pumpkin for Halloween!" We'd walk away and I'd say, "We could just have the pumpkin for fall." But this was not satisfactory for Natalie.

I couldn't figure out how she knew the word, "Halloween." Then I remembered being at Jason's mom's house a few weeks earlier. We don't have cable, so when we are at Grandma's we take advantage of the opportunity for Saturday morning cartoons. And on the particular channel we like to watch, they were running Halloween episodes of all their shows. Mickey Mouse was ok, they mostly just walked around in costumes. But Handy Manny talked about how Hispanics celebrate, "Dia de la Muerte." I took enough high school Spanish to know what that meant.

"That's the 'day of the dead!'" I hissed to Jason. I think he said something like, "Chill out."

"I don't want her watching shows about dead people!"

"We celebrate memorial day. That's about dead people."

"But we don't call it 'The Day of the Dead!"

He convinced me to watch the rest of the show and see how it turned out. I guess it was ok. Dia de la Muerte was, for all intents and purposes of the Handy Manny show, really just about remembering loved ones lost. I wasn't thrilled about that store owner dressed up like a vampire, but he took out his teeth pretty early on, and then he didn't look scary.

I repeated this story to my friend, Becca. I told her that I didn't want to be the Christian mom that freaks out about Halloween and won't even let her kids call it by that name ("They're calling it a Harvest Fest, actually"), but that I wanted Natalie to know that some things weren't ok. But maybe I didn't want her to know that part of it yet. She's only four, after all. And what exactly do they need to know about Halloween at four? (No, really. I'm asking.)

She said that she wasn't going to be one to take her child out of school just because they were having a Halloween party. "I'll just be a volunteer at the party," she said. "And when we get home, we're gonna talk about it. And we're gonna talk about what was fun, and what we didn't like."

Ah, yes. Balance.

And conversation. Because really, when they're older and away from us one day, and see or hear something that doesn't reflect our values, I don't want my children to think, "There's no way I'm telling Mom and Dad about this. They would freak if they found out I was around this. I'd never get to go anywhere again."
I want them to be confident of our response when they come talk to us about it. I want to be the parents that calmly and openly talk about things without laying guilt trips on our kids. That can explain why we do things they way we do them, without preaching.

Balance. Such a novel idea, Jason. I knew I married you for more than your good looks.

Do You have a Situation that Needs Imagination?

Dear Friends,

I would like to introduce you (if you have not previously met) to Rich, Scott, Dave, and Smitty -- also known as the Imagination Movers.

Now, if Jason reads this, he is going to say, "I can't believe it (or maybe, I knew it! ) She is blogging about the Imagination Movers! She is obsessed!"

Well, maybe just a little bit. But I have good reason. Let me give you a few:

1. This is THE best kids show out there, if we're talking about a show that is also parent-friendly. The Imagination Movers go around solving (mostly humorous) problems. They do this through an amusing series of trial and error. And they don't quit until the problem is solved. Don't we all want our children to come up with creative ways to solve problems, and to never give up?

2. They SING! And not "Mary Had a Little Lamb" kind of songs. These four guys actually write all the songs for the show themselves. They groove. I dance to them. They are fun. And they are kid-relevant. If you want to hear for yourself (and you do) click here. My favorite is "Clean My Room," but "Farm," and "Shakable You" are also quite enjoyable. Seriously, go watch one of those last two.

3. "Mover Rich" has five children. I just love that.

4. I love their story. These guys are four friends from New Orleans who all sat down in "Mover Scott's"

living room one evening and decided that they wanted to make a great children's show, with music that they would enjoy themselves. They got a show together, learned what was the best way to get and keep a child's attention, explored the best ways to make themselves known, and started touring. Somewhere in the middle of this, Hurricane Katrina hit, and three of them lost their homes. The fourth was pretty much unreachable for two weeks because he was on duty as a fireman.

5. This show inspires me. It's so fun; it's exactly the kind of things kids eat up and ask for seconds. And when I watch it, I remember that I want to do something fun for kids, that they love, that is entertaining and teaches them more about God in a way they understand. And I think I can do it.

6."Mover Scott" says one of his main reasons for doing the show is because he wanted to see male role models for kids on television. They wanted it so much that they decided to go do something about it themselves. I love that. And I'm so glad they did.

I Believe in Destiny.

I've been thinking a lot about destiny. How we go day by day doing the little things, and so many times miss how those little things fit into the big picture.
Yesterday one of our leaders showed me a picture he had found this week. It was Jason's senior picture. After I smiled for a minute at the boy on the front, he turned the picture around so I could read what Jason had written on the back. They were touching words, thanking this man and his wife for laying down their lives for Jason and for showing him by example what it means to serve. But the last two sentences made my eyes open wide.

"Keep me in mind while I'm gone. If God wills, I'll come back some day and build the church with you."

Now that alone was enough to put me in wonder of how God works in our lives. But then I remembered that this leader did not live in the city that we all call home today. He lived an hour and a half away. And I think, "How did God know?" right before I realized of course, that's a funny sort of question.

I walked over to Jason, who was talking with a group of friends, to show him the picture. They laughed and wowed as they looked at both sides. Then one of them told me that he had been watching a video of his daughter's baby dedication the other day. His family and Jason and I lived in Heartland at the time. We were dedicating Natalie on the same day. There were seven or eight families at the front of the church that day, but he said that our two families plus two other families that have moved to our city in the last three years were all together -- the only families on that side of the stage. "I would have never thought that we would have all ended up here at the time," he said.

Then I thought of our life since we've moved here. How Jason sold insurance, then worked as an office manager, only to sell insurance again as a district coordinator, and now works at the college. But let me assure you, the residuals that we get each month because he sold insurance are very helpful. God knew.

I took Natalie to the eye doctor last Monday. He said that her eye is showing improvement, that she could see even some 20/30 pictures up close. At the very end of the appointment he had Natalie read a few more lines of letters to him. I couldn't believe it when the last set the computer randomly chose were "C A N T."
I was surprised. I was even a little insulted. Not at the doctor, but at those stupid letters. "You don't know my God," I thought. "Who says she can't?" And I said a little prayer under my breath right there. I won't stop believing that those "can'ts" will become "cans."
Especially when I think of how the doctor warned me of possible respiratory problems when I went into labor with her at 36 weeks. She never needed so much as a single breathing treatment. Especially when I think of how she had eczema so bad that she would scratch her cheeks until they bled, and her face has open sores in a lot of her baby pictures. Now she is completely healed.
I'm not going to stop believing that she will walk in total healing for her eyes and for this peanut whatever-it-is. That her story will be a testimony of God's healing and His glory. I can't, you see. I believe in destiny. And I believe Natalie is destined to walk in healing.

Determined.

Jason will be gone hunting until Saturday. I will be alone with the girls for 4 days. I am alone with them all day, of course, but that makes more of a difference than you'd think when I am also alone with them all night.
These long stretches of time alone with the girls can be . . . let's just say that some times are better than others. I love my girls. I even like my girls. But sometimes the drama levels can run a little high. And it's embarrassing to try to blame estrogen when surely theirs isn't as strong as mine yet.

And so I am determined. These next four days are going to be awesome. They will not be awesome because of what we do, because we always try to do something fun when it's just us girls. They will be awesome because of attitude. And since I cannot rely on the attitude of my girls to be consistantly euphoric, my attitude will have to be awesome.

I realize that it is possible that I will not manage to keep my attitude in check at all times, but when I slip up, I'm going to decide to get back on track again.
I want to enjoy my children this week, and not just try to get through the week until I can have adult time everyday again. I want to discover new and fabulous things about them. I want to see how Elsie Joy really lives up to her middle name. And Natalie too, for that matter. Her middle name, Rhae, means "full of grace," and I have already seen in her grace to be a good friend and big sister. I want to laugh with them, instead of being distracted with other things. I want to take time while I have this special time with them, to get to know them all over again. To see how they are growing and learning.

It's amazing how much good you can find in a person if you're looking for it. And I intend to look good and hard this week.

I'm not 20 anymore, People.

When I had my birthday earlier this year, I was not afraid. After all, why do people make such a big deal about turning 30? It's just another number, right? It in no way has to define how you feel or act, or anything else. And besides, I was only turning 27, which is still a good three years away from 30.
But in the last few months, the qualms have hit. Not in a full blown-out mode, because that is not usually my style, but I definitely have my moments.

Because, my mom turned 30 right after I was born. And actually, my older sister was born when she was my age now.

Uh, stop the presses.

That means that my mother was once my age. I mean, I knew that, the way I know that Abraham Lincoln was the 16th president of the United States of America. But now, I know that. I know what 27 feels like. I know all the struggles, frustrations, escatsies, insecurities, happy tears, and "Golly Jeepers, shouldn't I know that by now?" feelings. And I just always thought Mom had it all together. I (hypothetically) knew that she made mistakes, but really, didn't she always know and do the right thing?
And just that fact that I know what it might have felt like to be mom at an age that I (sort of) knew her . . . well, I'm sure you understand.

And then there was the night last month when Jason and I went over to our friends' house to watch a movie late at night. Okay, so it was like 8:30-9 o'clock, but that's our bedtime, guys. Seriously, do we think we're teenagers or something? No, we most definitely did not, because even whilst driving to their house, we were remembering how they have that bunk bed down stairs that no one is using. And we made our plan: Put the girls to bed soon and spend the night. Because there was no way we were going to want to drive the 20 minutes back to our own beds. We would not make it.
What I did not plan on, was that "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" was going to leave me an emotional basket case. I must have forgotten that I can get that way past 11pm. BECAUSE IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE BEEN UP PARTYING PAST THEN. I lay in bed that night, tears rolling down my cheeks, because it would have so stunk to have been that lady, taking care of the man she loved as a baby that didn't know her, and didn't know that she had come back to take care of him because really, she did love him that much after all. (Excuse me, but is that not the most ridiculous reason to cry in the whole entire world?)

Then, this last Tuesday, I woke to the sound of Elsie crying. I started walking to the door through our pitch black room slowly, partly because it's a new house and I don't know my way that well in the dark yet, and partly because our room is not unpacked yet and there are boxes on the ground still. There was also a suitcase from our trip the day before that had not been unpacked. You can see where this is going. I was doing great and almost to the door, when mid-step I lost my balance. I fell down sideways and landed on a box, breaking it, and then proceeded to roll onto another small box, and then a wooden jewelry box. I could only lay there for the next 30 seconds because I hurt so much.
And although, really, this could have happened to anyone, of any age, it did seem to me that it shouldn't be happening to me at 27.

So there you go. Just some of the reasons why I must admit to myself that I am not 20 anymore. Then again, when I was 20 I once fell down in the shower, so maybe I never really was what 20 is.

Just thought I'd take a minute to say...

The likelyhood of my writing a "real" post this week will probably not happen. I try to post a least once a week, but, well, you see . . . we're moving tomorrow. Yep. Decided we were moving about . . . last Wednesday and we'll sleep there tomorrow night. Kinda crazy, I admit, but that's just sort of how the Benson family does these things!
Besides packing and unpacking this week, I will also be preparing a message to preach this Sunday. Not really sure how that one happened.
But my point is, I'll be a little busier than usual. Donations of prayer will be accepted. Or, as always, donations of money.

Thank you.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder . . .

Dear me. It has been entirely too long since my last post. Life has been busy. I'm not even sure what we've been busy with anymore, but . . . does it really matter?

However, in the time that I've been absent, I've been thinking that I really wanted to share the events of one particular day. Natalie was really on it that day, as far as humor goes. All in one day:

-- She asked, "Mommy, if you ever can't take care of Elsie, can we take her to an orphanage?" She didn't ask it maliciously; she asked it like she would ask about going to daycare or preschool. Apparently, in my attempts to shield her from some harsher facts of life, I didn't make things quite clear when I explained to her why our friends were going to Africa to adopt their little boy.

I seriously didn't know what to say to her for a while, so I finally said, "No. We're never taking Elsie to an orphanage. She's part of our family. I'm never going to not be able to take care of her." (When she starts asking what an orphanage is like, Heidi, I'm sending her to you!)

--Jason called to say hi, and Natalie told him, "I haven't done anything wrong today."

-- Shortly after this, she started playing house. She was the dad, and I was the kid.

"Dad": I have to go to work, Kid.

"Kid": No, Daddy. Don't go to work. I don't want you to go to work.

"Dad": I know. But I have to. I'll come home soon.

"Kid": No, don't go!

"Dad": Kid, I have to. Or else I will lose my job and they will throw me in the fire.

She said this with the straightest, most serious face! Maybe we should explain the term "fired" to her. She's probably picturing a little Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednigo action going on!