Momma's boys and Daddy's girls. At our house there's a Momma's boy and a Daddy's boy. Please do not misunderstand that last statement to mean that we play favorites among our boys. Despite having been accused over the years of "painfully apparent" favoritism, nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, it is the boys who seem to have chosen the preferences.
Our younger son is Daddy's boy, through and through. Way back in the day, when our son was quite young and my husband was taking evening classes, I would get home from work in just enough time for him to hand off the parental baton with a smooch and a "see ya later" as he rushed out the door to get to class. As the door closed behind him, I was left holding a screaming, inconsolable child. I would listen to him wail "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDYYYYYYYYYYYY!!" between shaky gasps for air while fat tears of sheer rejection rolled down his red cheeks. This would go on for hours, until he finally cried himself to sleep. Never mind that Mommy was home. Remember Mommy? The woman who carried you for 9 months while you leached the potassium out of her to the point of debilitating leg cramps? The woman who nearly split in half bringing you into this world? The woman who nursed and cuddled you? The woman who loves and dotes on you with all of her being? Remember her? Apparently not, because the banshee screech leaving this child's lungs indicated that his father had just left him with a complete stranger who was now sticking red hot needles under his finger nails.
Our son will turn 11 this week, and his preferences do not seem to have been the least bit affected by the passage of years. For a while, if he came out of his room in the morning to find me at the table, the first words out of his mouth were, "Where's Daddy?" I'd say, "Good morning, James." To which he would respond, "Good morning. Where's Daddy?" To this day, given the choice to drive somewhere with Dad or with Mom, he will choose Dad every time.
Now to be fair, I do believe my son loves me, too ~ when Daddy's not available.
Our older son is Momma's boy to the core ~ which I will NEVER understand. During his bonding years I was suicidally depressed and not a pleasant person. How he attached himself to me is anyone's guess. But somehow (by the grace of God, perhaps) he managed to bond to me much faster than I was able to bond to him. Combine this distancing of myself during his early years with the fact that our relationship during his early childhood was heated and confrontational and we have got quite the conundrum happening here. Yet, here we are, me and my boy.
As a young child, our oldest always needed to know where I was. If he had not noticed when I walked out of a room, his immediate reaction to the realization was, "Where's Mom?" Even now, as a teen, if he knows I am home but I am not immediately visible he asks, "Where's Mom?" When I worked 2 jobs, he would ask almost every morning, "Mom, where are working today?" My schedule had not changed in 2 years, I worked at the same location on a given day of the week with few exception, but he always needed to ask.
Now, as a teenager, our oldest continues to be concerned for me. A few years ago, after having abdominal surgery, as I was shuffling down my hall, achy and still a little groggy from anesthesia, my oldest asked if there was anything he could do for me. He was my work horse the summer I separated my shoulder, and even when I felt strong enough to grocery shop alone he wanted me to wait until he could come with me. Even in the every day routine of life, he will express concern. "Why are you limping, Mom? Your foot still hurting?" "You're rubbing you're head, Mom. Headache?"
Considering that I am the mother of a teen-aged boy, I am often surprised by how willing he is to talk to me about the important stuff of life. I will never forget the day he asked my flat-out about birth control. Then there was the conversation about the pregnant girls in his middle-school (yikes!). Admittedly, I had to question why I was the one to explain the differences in auto engine sizes and why putting a 4-cylinder engine in a Mustang should be illegal, but we had that conversation, too. Now he comes to me with concerns about his girlfriend, the sisters of his heart (he's got a few of those), college, and the future.
Though it may seem that I favor one child over the other, I can honestly say that I try very hard not to do so. I very much love and adore both of boyz. Yet, I also understand that personality traits, interests, thought processes, and other factors play a large role in who gets along best with whom, and will continue to try to not take it personally if one prefers Daddy.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Friday, June 6, 2014
Spoiled Brat
Though I was unaware of it at the time, we grew up pretty poor. I knew I had friends whose families had more than we did, but it is only with 20/20 hindsight that I understand just how little we really did have. Yet, we always seemed to have enough ~ sometimes just barely, but always. So when I see the "stuff" my kids have and all the things they get to do I think to myself, "These guys are so spoiled." Then I look farther out to my sons' peer groups, and I see all that they have and get to do and get away with, and I think to myself, "Not nearly as spoiled as some."
As the resident disciplinarian (do not be misled, my husband does discipline, I just seem to do so far more) I make the calls my children don't always like, and never appreciate in the moment. Among my sons' peer groups, I have been given the distinction of "The Evil Mom" because I make my children do chores *gasp!* and earn their allowances *gasp!* and receive due discipline for breaking the rules, and I wear this title with pride. When my oldest son had a few friends over after school on the last day of 6th grade and one of those friends continually used disrespectful language despite repeated warnings, I kicked him out of the house telling him that he was welcome to come back when he learned to respect my rules. It was 3 years before he came back inside, and he has been over many times since with no issue. Chaperoning a field trip for my younger son's 3rd grade class I informed him on the walk back to the school that if he didn't mellow and behave for the rest of the trip I would ground him from Netflix. (He was mimicking a character from a show he'd been watching.) A classmate looked at me with horror in his eyes and said, "You are so mean!" To which I replied, "Remember that if you ever come to our house." Not one of my more glowing moments, but a perfect example of why I don't do well with other people's children.
Yes, I am the mom who makes my kids pick up after themselves. Yes, I am the mom who expects my children to respect their elders (defined as "any person older than yourself"). Yes, I am the mom who lets my children fail and figure out how to climb out of the whole they have dug for themselves. Yes, my 6'4", 290lb, 17-year-old son is still unwilling to be within arms reach of me during an argument because he knows he may very well get smacked. No, my children do not rule my house, my life, or me ~ tho, I must admit that at times they do rule my schedule.
Long ago, I accepted the idea of God as Abba Father, daddy, the "ultimate parent". Considering the parent that I am, I also accept the idea of His parental discipline in my own life ~ and much like my own kids, I don't always like it or appreciate it in the moment. But, just like my children who are (hopefully) better for my discipline, I know I will be better for His. And just like my children who sometimes need help in seeing their gifts for the blessings that they are, I often need help recognizing the many blessings Daddy has bestowed upon me.
For quite some time now, I have been praying for rest. Not sleep, per se, not respite from the chaos of my life, but rest in the middle of it all. Yet, it seems rest has continually eluded me. By a twist of fate, I am not taking any classes this semester, so there is no studying to be done for the first time in 2 and a half years. My children are at ages where I do not need to constantly entertain, care for, or pick up after them and are actually a huge help in the care of the house. At the time of this writing, my husband is out of town for a while. It seems that at long last, after a very long time of asking, pleading, begging for rest, God has seen it fit to grant it to me.
And I have no idea what to do with it. I am actually bored.
Bored?!! What is wrong with you? You have finally been given exactly what you've asked for and you're BORED?!
Yep. I have had no idea what to do with this new-found down time, and I have been bored.
Now I am behaving like the spoiled brat. Here I have been given the answer to a prayer and I have acted ungratefully about it. I have failed to recognize this reprieve for the blessing that it is, and dismissed it as an unproductive waste of time. Time to back-peddle. Now I have to go to Dad and apologize for behaving like an entitled snot, beg for forgiveness, and thank Him for the gift He's given me ~ for the many gifts He's given me.
That's the problem right there. Most parents want to give their children the things they ask for, and though God is not "most parents", He is the example by which we learn to want to give our children the things they ask for. In fact, it is by His example that we often don't want to give our children exactly what they ask for, but want to give them so much more. God has given me so very many blessings that I often overlook them. I behave like an entitled, spoiled brat.
Today, I realized that I completely missed the gift Dad gave me. Today, I thanked Him for the rest I have been praying for. Today, my prayer has been that my eyes will be more open and attentive to recognize and appreciate the gifts He gives, and that He will forgive me for being a spoiled brat.
As the resident disciplinarian (do not be misled, my husband does discipline, I just seem to do so far more) I make the calls my children don't always like, and never appreciate in the moment. Among my sons' peer groups, I have been given the distinction of "The Evil Mom" because I make my children do chores *gasp!* and earn their allowances *gasp!* and receive due discipline for breaking the rules, and I wear this title with pride. When my oldest son had a few friends over after school on the last day of 6th grade and one of those friends continually used disrespectful language despite repeated warnings, I kicked him out of the house telling him that he was welcome to come back when he learned to respect my rules. It was 3 years before he came back inside, and he has been over many times since with no issue. Chaperoning a field trip for my younger son's 3rd grade class I informed him on the walk back to the school that if he didn't mellow and behave for the rest of the trip I would ground him from Netflix. (He was mimicking a character from a show he'd been watching.) A classmate looked at me with horror in his eyes and said, "You are so mean!" To which I replied, "Remember that if you ever come to our house." Not one of my more glowing moments, but a perfect example of why I don't do well with other people's children.
Yes, I am the mom who makes my kids pick up after themselves. Yes, I am the mom who expects my children to respect their elders (defined as "any person older than yourself"). Yes, I am the mom who lets my children fail and figure out how to climb out of the whole they have dug for themselves. Yes, my 6'4", 290lb, 17-year-old son is still unwilling to be within arms reach of me during an argument because he knows he may very well get smacked. No, my children do not rule my house, my life, or me ~ tho, I must admit that at times they do rule my schedule.
Long ago, I accepted the idea of God as Abba Father, daddy, the "ultimate parent". Considering the parent that I am, I also accept the idea of His parental discipline in my own life ~ and much like my own kids, I don't always like it or appreciate it in the moment. But, just like my children who are (hopefully) better for my discipline, I know I will be better for His. And just like my children who sometimes need help in seeing their gifts for the blessings that they are, I often need help recognizing the many blessings Daddy has bestowed upon me.
For quite some time now, I have been praying for rest. Not sleep, per se, not respite from the chaos of my life, but rest in the middle of it all. Yet, it seems rest has continually eluded me. By a twist of fate, I am not taking any classes this semester, so there is no studying to be done for the first time in 2 and a half years. My children are at ages where I do not need to constantly entertain, care for, or pick up after them and are actually a huge help in the care of the house. At the time of this writing, my husband is out of town for a while. It seems that at long last, after a very long time of asking, pleading, begging for rest, God has seen it fit to grant it to me.
And I have no idea what to do with it. I am actually bored.
Bored?!! What is wrong with you? You have finally been given exactly what you've asked for and you're BORED?!
Yep. I have had no idea what to do with this new-found down time, and I have been bored.
Now I am behaving like the spoiled brat. Here I have been given the answer to a prayer and I have acted ungratefully about it. I have failed to recognize this reprieve for the blessing that it is, and dismissed it as an unproductive waste of time. Time to back-peddle. Now I have to go to Dad and apologize for behaving like an entitled snot, beg for forgiveness, and thank Him for the gift He's given me ~ for the many gifts He's given me.
That's the problem right there. Most parents want to give their children the things they ask for, and though God is not "most parents", He is the example by which we learn to want to give our children the things they ask for. In fact, it is by His example that we often don't want to give our children exactly what they ask for, but want to give them so much more. God has given me so very many blessings that I often overlook them. I behave like an entitled, spoiled brat.
Today, I realized that I completely missed the gift Dad gave me. Today, I thanked Him for the rest I have been praying for. Today, my prayer has been that my eyes will be more open and attentive to recognize and appreciate the gifts He gives, and that He will forgive me for being a spoiled brat.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Come as You Are**
**As long as you are exactly like us.
This is can be a positive stance to take. There are times in which like-minded people band together for legitimate purposes, like preservation of heritage or culture. Or when training for a marathon and the encouragement of other runners who have been where you are is needed to push you through. Or in a MOPS (Mothers of PreSchoolers) group.
However, there are times when this philosophy is not the most productive. For example, the Christian church. Ironically, the one group on earth that should embrace those who do not think they do ~ in other words, believe that Christ is the Lord and Savior of their lives ~ is one of the most uncomfortable to truly "come as you are". Much as the modern church tries to deny it, traditional ideas die hard, and there are some people groups that the church ~ not simply A church, but THE church as a singular body of Christ ~ has yet to fully accept as beloved brothers and sisters of Christ, even if those people groups believe that Christ is indeed their Lord and Savior. Hard as we try, we as THE church have yet to shed entirely certain stereotypical ideas, and therefore have yet to fully embrace those who do "come as you are". Is it any wonder that one of the biggest excuses for not coming to faith is something along the lines of, "I have to work on myself first. I'm not good enough for church, yet."?
Now, before the stones start flying, I will say that there are always exceptions to the rule. Our family has been very blessed to move within churches and ministries that have been much closer to this ultimate goal than others. They take to heart the words of Christ that "it is not the healthy that need a doctor, but the sick", and allow the "sick" to come ~ in all of their disease and illness ~ to the Healer, so that they may be made well and whole through HIM. They understand that it is exactly this kind of person who most needs to be embraced by the church and carried to the One who knows that, no matter their current condition, they are already "good enough".
Yet, by the same token, there are some churches and ministries that seem to operate a little farther from the mark. True, they may encourage people to come as they are, but then they try to fit everyone into the same mold. "Come as you are, leave exactly like one of us." Allow me to give a few personal examples.
I am a silent prayer kind of person. In fact, it is safe to say that I hate praying aloud and will pass that buck to anyone willing to take it. If someone else prays aloud, I am all ears, but please do not ask me to do the same. I will do it, albeit begrudgingly, and He will not be fooled to believe that I am being sincere, even if everyone else is. I'll let you what, I'll let you pray your way if you let me pray my way, OK? What I have to say is between me and God, so why does everyone in the room need to hear it?
My hands are my most valuable tools and touch my greatest gift. To know that someone took a step toward becoming well and whole because I laid hands on them is an awesome blessing and privilege. Yet sometimes contact is not required in order to "touch" someone. I am able to gather so much information simply by scanning the body and allowing one's energy to interact with mine, to tell me what it needs. I can feel dis-ease in temperature changes around the body, sense dysfunction in an agitated energy flow, and see pain in one's eyes.
There were 3 of us praying for someone suffering from an awful headache. Unsure of whether this person was even OK with me touching him, my hands hovered near the sides of his head as we prayed. As we prayed, my hands were drawn closer, but never drawn to touch ~ until one of the other folks praying pushed my hands onto this person's head. Well, thank you very much for interfering with my communication, not only with this poor headache sufferer, but also with God. If Christ could heal the centurion's daughter from half-way across town, then surely God could have granted His healing grace through my hands less than inch away from this pounding head. Though I am still accepting the idea that I may have the spiritual gift of healing, I do believe that God has healed people through me ~ whether my hands made contact or not.
While a group of us were praying over a speaker at a spiritual retreat, I had my hands on her shoulders and could sense dis-ease and agitation. As sensations moved up my arms, I inhaled very deeply, as if I could pull the uneasiness from her, through my being, and exhale it away from both of us. I took several very deep, sighing breaths while others were praying aloud. When we had finished, and the speaker was on her way, one of the others in the prayer circle came to me and asked if I was OK. Yeah, I'm fine. I sigh while praying, you speak in tongues. You speak Him out, I breath Him in. Why does this make you question whether I am "OK"?
Of course, there are always going to be differences in ideas about how to DO church, but surely there should be some common consensus about how to BE the church. God did not make each of us to look exactly alike, to think exactly alike, or to act exactly alike. So, what leads one to believe that we must all worship exactly alike? Clearly, He enjoys variety, and variety is the spice of life. Why would we want to give Him bland, run-of-the-mill, nothing-exciting worship?
This is can be a positive stance to take. There are times in which like-minded people band together for legitimate purposes, like preservation of heritage or culture. Or when training for a marathon and the encouragement of other runners who have been where you are is needed to push you through. Or in a MOPS (Mothers of PreSchoolers) group.
However, there are times when this philosophy is not the most productive. For example, the Christian church. Ironically, the one group on earth that should embrace those who do not think they do ~ in other words, believe that Christ is the Lord and Savior of their lives ~ is one of the most uncomfortable to truly "come as you are". Much as the modern church tries to deny it, traditional ideas die hard, and there are some people groups that the church ~ not simply A church, but THE church as a singular body of Christ ~ has yet to fully accept as beloved brothers and sisters of Christ, even if those people groups believe that Christ is indeed their Lord and Savior. Hard as we try, we as THE church have yet to shed entirely certain stereotypical ideas, and therefore have yet to fully embrace those who do "come as you are". Is it any wonder that one of the biggest excuses for not coming to faith is something along the lines of, "I have to work on myself first. I'm not good enough for church, yet."?
Now, before the stones start flying, I will say that there are always exceptions to the rule. Our family has been very blessed to move within churches and ministries that have been much closer to this ultimate goal than others. They take to heart the words of Christ that "it is not the healthy that need a doctor, but the sick", and allow the "sick" to come ~ in all of their disease and illness ~ to the Healer, so that they may be made well and whole through HIM. They understand that it is exactly this kind of person who most needs to be embraced by the church and carried to the One who knows that, no matter their current condition, they are already "good enough".
Yet, by the same token, there are some churches and ministries that seem to operate a little farther from the mark. True, they may encourage people to come as they are, but then they try to fit everyone into the same mold. "Come as you are, leave exactly like one of us." Allow me to give a few personal examples.
I am a silent prayer kind of person. In fact, it is safe to say that I hate praying aloud and will pass that buck to anyone willing to take it. If someone else prays aloud, I am all ears, but please do not ask me to do the same. I will do it, albeit begrudgingly, and He will not be fooled to believe that I am being sincere, even if everyone else is. I'll let you what, I'll let you pray your way if you let me pray my way, OK? What I have to say is between me and God, so why does everyone in the room need to hear it?
My hands are my most valuable tools and touch my greatest gift. To know that someone took a step toward becoming well and whole because I laid hands on them is an awesome blessing and privilege. Yet sometimes contact is not required in order to "touch" someone. I am able to gather so much information simply by scanning the body and allowing one's energy to interact with mine, to tell me what it needs. I can feel dis-ease in temperature changes around the body, sense dysfunction in an agitated energy flow, and see pain in one's eyes.
There were 3 of us praying for someone suffering from an awful headache. Unsure of whether this person was even OK with me touching him, my hands hovered near the sides of his head as we prayed. As we prayed, my hands were drawn closer, but never drawn to touch ~ until one of the other folks praying pushed my hands onto this person's head. Well, thank you very much for interfering with my communication, not only with this poor headache sufferer, but also with God. If Christ could heal the centurion's daughter from half-way across town, then surely God could have granted His healing grace through my hands less than inch away from this pounding head. Though I am still accepting the idea that I may have the spiritual gift of healing, I do believe that God has healed people through me ~ whether my hands made contact or not.
While a group of us were praying over a speaker at a spiritual retreat, I had my hands on her shoulders and could sense dis-ease and agitation. As sensations moved up my arms, I inhaled very deeply, as if I could pull the uneasiness from her, through my being, and exhale it away from both of us. I took several very deep, sighing breaths while others were praying aloud. When we had finished, and the speaker was on her way, one of the others in the prayer circle came to me and asked if I was OK. Yeah, I'm fine. I sigh while praying, you speak in tongues. You speak Him out, I breath Him in. Why does this make you question whether I am "OK"?
Of course, there are always going to be differences in ideas about how to DO church, but surely there should be some common consensus about how to BE the church. God did not make each of us to look exactly alike, to think exactly alike, or to act exactly alike. So, what leads one to believe that we must all worship exactly alike? Clearly, He enjoys variety, and variety is the spice of life. Why would we want to give Him bland, run-of-the-mill, nothing-exciting worship?
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Rough Run
Since spring has finally decided to grace Ohio with its presence, I have gotten back outside for my runs and rides as much as is possible with the crazy schedule of my life. Last week I ran my first hills circuit since I fell last summer (bruising my tailbone and jacking up my back) and peddled my longest trail ride so far ~ a whole whopping 18 miles. I have LOVED every minute of being off the treadmill and the trainer, and very much look forward to more opportunities.
Despite snow 2 days ago, it was sunny and 65 today, and I was itching to get out on the trail after work. Planning on hitting the hills trails, I decided to shake things up a bit and try a different combo of trails which added just over 1/2 mile to the distance I usually run for this circuit.
I should have known better.
The Coyote Run Pet Trail is described as "unimproved trail", which translates to gravel, hard-packed dirt, raised tree roots, and grassland. After the most recent round of wet-death, today Coyote Run was more like a muddy agility course. Thank God for trail shoes, right? With their traction and extra-grippy soles? Did you know that those extra-grippy soles HOLD the mud they grip? Ever try to run with the extra weight of wet mud sucked into the traction of your shoes? My socks were pink/yellow stripped when I started out on the trail. I'm not entirely sure what color they are now, but I'm pretty sure it cannot be described as pink or yellow. Taken from a different angle, you know it was a fun run when you have mud splashed up the back of you pants almost to your rear-end.
The next leg of my run was on one of the "improved" trails, which must mean it is more than just mowed and has better drainage and water run-off. No mud on this trail ~ just a dyslexic Cub Scout pack that had no concept of "stay to the right." In my customary circuit, I usually run this trail first. This evening, I ran it last, as in after I had already run the muddy agility course. So I was more fatigued than I usually am when hitting certain hills. I did more than a little praying during this run as my quads felt like they might quit and my breathing hit a pattern that I don't like to fall into. When the headache hit, it dawned on me that it had been a couple of hours since I'd eaten and my sugar and sodium levels were now tanking. Awesome. I knew the trail well enough to know how much farther I had to go, and I was pretty sure I would make it without passing out or throwing up, so I pushed on and emerged victorious! I may have been sucking wind, but I was victorious, right?
In spite of all this, I think I like this combo. At this park, there are 3 nature trails that can be run in a seamless circuit that totals somewhere around 8 miles, more than half of those miles with mild to moderate degrees of elevation change. My goal is to run this 8ish mile loop before the 1/2 marathon in October. I have an idea of how this plan will progress. Now if Mother Nature would just decided what season she wants it to be...
Despite snow 2 days ago, it was sunny and 65 today, and I was itching to get out on the trail after work. Planning on hitting the hills trails, I decided to shake things up a bit and try a different combo of trails which added just over 1/2 mile to the distance I usually run for this circuit.
I should have known better.
The Coyote Run Pet Trail is described as "unimproved trail", which translates to gravel, hard-packed dirt, raised tree roots, and grassland. After the most recent round of wet-death, today Coyote Run was more like a muddy agility course. Thank God for trail shoes, right? With their traction and extra-grippy soles? Did you know that those extra-grippy soles HOLD the mud they grip? Ever try to run with the extra weight of wet mud sucked into the traction of your shoes? My socks were pink/yellow stripped when I started out on the trail. I'm not entirely sure what color they are now, but I'm pretty sure it cannot be described as pink or yellow. Taken from a different angle, you know it was a fun run when you have mud splashed up the back of you pants almost to your rear-end.
The next leg of my run was on one of the "improved" trails, which must mean it is more than just mowed and has better drainage and water run-off. No mud on this trail ~ just a dyslexic Cub Scout pack that had no concept of "stay to the right." In my customary circuit, I usually run this trail first. This evening, I ran it last, as in after I had already run the muddy agility course. So I was more fatigued than I usually am when hitting certain hills. I did more than a little praying during this run as my quads felt like they might quit and my breathing hit a pattern that I don't like to fall into. When the headache hit, it dawned on me that it had been a couple of hours since I'd eaten and my sugar and sodium levels were now tanking. Awesome. I knew the trail well enough to know how much farther I had to go, and I was pretty sure I would make it without passing out or throwing up, so I pushed on and emerged victorious! I may have been sucking wind, but I was victorious, right?
In spite of all this, I think I like this combo. At this park, there are 3 nature trails that can be run in a seamless circuit that totals somewhere around 8 miles, more than half of those miles with mild to moderate degrees of elevation change. My goal is to run this 8ish mile loop before the 1/2 marathon in October. I have an idea of how this plan will progress. Now if Mother Nature would just decided what season she wants it to be...
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Year in Review: 2013
I have a terrible memory, so if I've forgotten something wild and exciting, please forgive me.
2013 was quite a remarkable and significant year in the Boyer household ~ most notably for the teenager. Our oldest son turned 16 and got his driver's license this year, both rites of passage. He entered his Junior year of high school - officially an upper class-man - and into his first serious relationship with a lovely young lady. It seems he was approaching, hitting, and surpassing milestones all year long.
2013 had some cool things in store for your youngest son as well. For starters, he turned 10 ~ officially out of single-digits and considered a "tweenager" by some. He also started playing the violin and joined the school choir, even has a solo part in the upcoming spring 5th & 6th grade musical. His energy and creativity continue to amaze and surprise me. Getting a new bike for his birthday he wanted to join Daddy on long bike rides, and insisted that they become "family rides" dragging the teenager kicking and screaming, and reminding me how much fun cycling can be. He also completed his first Indian Mud Run (the 1-mile kids course, but still a wonderful accomplishment!) and is very much looking forward to this year's event.
My handsome hunny had a rocky 2013 after taking a dive off of his bicycle, leaving him with significant road-rash and a minor sprain of one knee, and 2 labral tears in his rotator cuff. In spite of these minor details, he still managed to complete the 3.5-mile Indian Mud Run, and a 10-mile run later in the year. He has since recovered from the knee injuries, but continues to rehab the shoulder. We'll see if 2014 brings cortizone shots or surgery.
As for me, 2013 has been a wild ride. It started off with the most God-aweful semester of school thus far, leaving me to question what in the world I was doing to myself. Then, my sanity took a leave of absence, causing me to register for not only a 10-mile run, but then a half-marathon. I have never run so much in my life! But if you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you already know why I do it. After completing the training and then the events, I have never felt more accomplished. Knowing that God has given me a body capable of this kind of work is at the same time wondrous and frightening. God has shown me that I am indeed capable of things I never thought possible, but that usually means He is prepping me to use this new found knowledge and skill. Makes me wonder what He has waiting for me up His sleeve. In the spring I was blessed to serve on a Koinonia team, and in the fall blessed again to serve on a Kairos team. This year I have been able to reconnect with childhood friends and very much look forward to rebuilding those relationships ~ was even honored to attend the wedding of one of these long-lost-buddies.
I am not one to make resolutions - more likely to set goals - for the coming year, but I am interested to see what 2014 holds for the Boyer family. The teenager has all kinds of plans for the rest of his Junior year, the tweenager is so happy-go-lucky he can make the best of just about anything that rolls his direction, and my hunny is hoping for improvement on many fronts. As for me, since my sweet 10-yr-old reintroduced me to the joy of cycling, I have set my sights on a duathlon in the coming year. With my oldest on the cusp of entering his Senior year, I am considering taking a break from my own schooling to enjoy every minute I still have with him. But most of all, my goal is to roll with the punches that inevitably come my way, and try to keep a watchful eye and listening ear to all the God might have for me up His sleeve.
2013 was quite a remarkable and significant year in the Boyer household ~ most notably for the teenager. Our oldest son turned 16 and got his driver's license this year, both rites of passage. He entered his Junior year of high school - officially an upper class-man - and into his first serious relationship with a lovely young lady. It seems he was approaching, hitting, and surpassing milestones all year long.
2013 had some cool things in store for your youngest son as well. For starters, he turned 10 ~ officially out of single-digits and considered a "tweenager" by some. He also started playing the violin and joined the school choir, even has a solo part in the upcoming spring 5th & 6th grade musical. His energy and creativity continue to amaze and surprise me. Getting a new bike for his birthday he wanted to join Daddy on long bike rides, and insisted that they become "family rides" dragging the teenager kicking and screaming, and reminding me how much fun cycling can be. He also completed his first Indian Mud Run (the 1-mile kids course, but still a wonderful accomplishment!) and is very much looking forward to this year's event.
My handsome hunny had a rocky 2013 after taking a dive off of his bicycle, leaving him with significant road-rash and a minor sprain of one knee, and 2 labral tears in his rotator cuff. In spite of these minor details, he still managed to complete the 3.5-mile Indian Mud Run, and a 10-mile run later in the year. He has since recovered from the knee injuries, but continues to rehab the shoulder. We'll see if 2014 brings cortizone shots or surgery.
As for me, 2013 has been a wild ride. It started off with the most God-aweful semester of school thus far, leaving me to question what in the world I was doing to myself. Then, my sanity took a leave of absence, causing me to register for not only a 10-mile run, but then a half-marathon. I have never run so much in my life! But if you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you already know why I do it. After completing the training and then the events, I have never felt more accomplished. Knowing that God has given me a body capable of this kind of work is at the same time wondrous and frightening. God has shown me that I am indeed capable of things I never thought possible, but that usually means He is prepping me to use this new found knowledge and skill. Makes me wonder what He has waiting for me up His sleeve. In the spring I was blessed to serve on a Koinonia team, and in the fall blessed again to serve on a Kairos team. This year I have been able to reconnect with childhood friends and very much look forward to rebuilding those relationships ~ was even honored to attend the wedding of one of these long-lost-buddies.
I am not one to make resolutions - more likely to set goals - for the coming year, but I am interested to see what 2014 holds for the Boyer family. The teenager has all kinds of plans for the rest of his Junior year, the tweenager is so happy-go-lucky he can make the best of just about anything that rolls his direction, and my hunny is hoping for improvement on many fronts. As for me, since my sweet 10-yr-old reintroduced me to the joy of cycling, I have set my sights on a duathlon in the coming year. With my oldest on the cusp of entering his Senior year, I am considering taking a break from my own schooling to enjoy every minute I still have with him. But most of all, my goal is to roll with the punches that inevitably come my way, and try to keep a watchful eye and listening ear to all the God might have for me up His sleeve.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Questioning
God and I do not exactly have a history of seeing eye to eye. I have spent years questioning God's plan for my life. Yet, I have finally come to a place where I may question in the moment of frustration and then, when the moment settles, I trust that He knows what He's doing and let Him lead the way.
Through my involvement with Kairos Prison Ministry I have come to know a resident who has been locked up for 28 years. Though I have no idea of the person she was when she arrived in the correctional system, I do know the strong Christian woman that she had become. She served the Lord and Kairos wholeheartedly and was a mentor to many.
When she served the most recent Kairos team as a Resident Angel, she mentioned that she would be going before the powers that be about her release, and that she would appreciate our prayers in this regard. Of course, we were all willing to pray on her behalf. Four weeks later, at a Kairos monthly reunion, we learned that this resident had indeed been granted her release!! I can't vouch for anyone else, but I was elated! However, this resident had also been in the hospital for serious health concerns, and additional prayer was sought. This week, we learned that this resident has indeed gone home ~ to be with the Lord.
Reading that email, my heart broke. She was 3 weeks away from being released from prison after 28 years inside, she rejoiced in the knowledge that such freedom had been granted, and the delight of seeing the other side of those walls was taken from her. How unfair! Why would God answer her prayers for freedom, and then never let her taste that freedom? Why would He dangle that carrot only to steal it away in the 11th hour? I thought God was supposed to be just! I thought He was supposed to work for the good of those who believe in Him! How could He do this?!
I had quite the little tissy-fit on my soap-box that morning. And then I stepped off of it, remembering that I will never understand the greatness of God this side of heaven. Clearly, He had a better idea of what this beloved sister needed then I, and He is never unjust, never unfair ~ though our insufficient mortal eyes are not always capable of recognizing this. I do not pretend to know why she was in prison, but I do know that she had long been free in Christ. And I do not pretend to know why God took her when she was so close to going home, but I do know that He took her to His home.
When I was a kid and questioning authority, my dad would tell me, "It's not mine to question why. It's only mine to do or die." Coming from a hard-core Italian, I understood this to mean "just do what you're told." But as a Christian, I understand this more fully to mean that I am not always intended to understand His callings in life ~ I am only meant to listen and obey so that I am able to live in Him and will not parish into a forever death. I am not meant to understand the perceived unfairness of this circumstance, I am only meant to trust that God had something greater in mind.
God bless you, sweet Kairos sister. You will be dearly missed.
Through my involvement with Kairos Prison Ministry I have come to know a resident who has been locked up for 28 years. Though I have no idea of the person she was when she arrived in the correctional system, I do know the strong Christian woman that she had become. She served the Lord and Kairos wholeheartedly and was a mentor to many.
When she served the most recent Kairos team as a Resident Angel, she mentioned that she would be going before the powers that be about her release, and that she would appreciate our prayers in this regard. Of course, we were all willing to pray on her behalf. Four weeks later, at a Kairos monthly reunion, we learned that this resident had indeed been granted her release!! I can't vouch for anyone else, but I was elated! However, this resident had also been in the hospital for serious health concerns, and additional prayer was sought. This week, we learned that this resident has indeed gone home ~ to be with the Lord.
Reading that email, my heart broke. She was 3 weeks away from being released from prison after 28 years inside, she rejoiced in the knowledge that such freedom had been granted, and the delight of seeing the other side of those walls was taken from her. How unfair! Why would God answer her prayers for freedom, and then never let her taste that freedom? Why would He dangle that carrot only to steal it away in the 11th hour? I thought God was supposed to be just! I thought He was supposed to work for the good of those who believe in Him! How could He do this?!
I had quite the little tissy-fit on my soap-box that morning. And then I stepped off of it, remembering that I will never understand the greatness of God this side of heaven. Clearly, He had a better idea of what this beloved sister needed then I, and He is never unjust, never unfair ~ though our insufficient mortal eyes are not always capable of recognizing this. I do not pretend to know why she was in prison, but I do know that she had long been free in Christ. And I do not pretend to know why God took her when she was so close to going home, but I do know that He took her to His home.
When I was a kid and questioning authority, my dad would tell me, "It's not mine to question why. It's only mine to do or die." Coming from a hard-core Italian, I understood this to mean "just do what you're told." But as a Christian, I understand this more fully to mean that I am not always intended to understand His callings in life ~ I am only meant to listen and obey so that I am able to live in Him and will not parish into a forever death. I am not meant to understand the perceived unfairness of this circumstance, I am only meant to trust that God had something greater in mind.
God bless you, sweet Kairos sister. You will be dearly missed.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Asking the Impossible
I always get a giggle when people call faith in Jesus Christ a "crutch". If my faith is a crutch, it's a rickety, dilapidated crutch that keeps slipping out from under me. My life has never been more complicated since recommitting my life to Christ, partly because I will forever fall short of His mark, but more so because He likes to ask things of me that seem impossible.
Now, before you go quoting the second half of Matthew 19:26, try to remember the first ~ "With man this is impossible." (NIV) Even more so with bull-headed, spiteful ME are some of these things impossible. Allow me to give you the latest example of the spiritual 2x4 upside the head that seems to be an impossible request.
Every time I prep for a ministry retreat I receive some new insight, and the current Kairos team formation is no exception. These usually come during a guided meditation, which makes sense when you think about it. Meditations are designed to bring your mind to a place where it can see more clearly. This particular meditation asked us to picture ourselves sitting in the shade of a palm tree on a peaceful beach. As we look out over the water, we hear someone walk up and sit beside us. We look over to see Jesus, sitting with us, enjoying sights and sounds of the surf. After a time, Jesus looks at us and asks, "My child, what can I do for you?"
We are actually expected to answer this question?! The savior of the world, the man who died for me, is asking what more He can do for me? Because being scourged and crucified wasn't enough? How do I answer this? But in a moment, the answer came. I told Him I needed Him to love me the way my family doesn't.
Anyone who knows me well knows that my relationship with my family (husband and sons excluded) is strained at best. It would be safe to say that at this point it is pretty much non-existent. I haven't spoken to my dad in over 3 years, I haven't been able to get my mother to return a phone call in almost 2 months, my brother and I merely tolerate each other for the family's sake, and my sister is giving me the silent treatment because I decided to attend my friend's wedding instead of the family holiday shindig (long story there.) Not exactly feeling the love here. But even the red-headed step-child deserves to be loved, and this red-headed step-child knows that the unconditional love of which my earthly family seems to be incapable will forever flow from the Ultimate Big Brother and my family in His spirit.
The meditation continues by asking us to picture ourselves still sitting with Jesus under the palm. After a time, we look to Him and ask, "Lord, what can I do for you?"
Confession time ~ I never want to ask this question, because I know He will answer it every time. And more often than not, I'm less that thrilled with the response. This was no exception. There was absolutely no hesitation in His reply ~ "Love your family the way I do."
SLAP!!
Ever try to argue with God? It's pointless, I know, but sometimes I give it a whirl. Never once can I remember being successful. The trend holds here. He has just commanded me to love my family in a way that they cannot love me. How unfair is this?! Why should I have to love folks who clearly have no interest in returning the courtesy, or even seem to care whether I love them or not? Do I really have to love them as much as He does? Don't you think that's asking a bit much? Then it dawned on me that I am asking this of a man who died for people who hated Him. Asking me to love people that simply don't care seems like a petty request in comparison.
Yet, for me, this is a huge burden to carry. My spirit is at constant war with the flesh in which it is trapped, and though my spirit knows this must be done, my flesh resists with all the hurtful spite it can muster. My spirit wants to obey, but my flesh is still healing hurts and wounds. My spirit tries to love, but my flesh succumbs to the cold-heartedness it perceives. When it comes right down to it, I'm not ready to love them like He does. I'm having a hard time loving them because I have to as the family given me, let alone with the unconditional and boundless love of Christ.
I am so grateful that Jesus knows that this side of heaven we are all works in progress. He also knows that in the end, He always wins and I eventually follow where He leads ~ oftentimes kicking and screaming all along the way. In my heart of hearts, I believe that I will someday reach a place where I can love my family like He does. Unfortunately, it isn't here under this palm.
Now, before you go quoting the second half of Matthew 19:26, try to remember the first ~ "With man this is impossible." (NIV) Even more so with bull-headed, spiteful ME are some of these things impossible. Allow me to give you the latest example of the spiritual 2x4 upside the head that seems to be an impossible request.
Every time I prep for a ministry retreat I receive some new insight, and the current Kairos team formation is no exception. These usually come during a guided meditation, which makes sense when you think about it. Meditations are designed to bring your mind to a place where it can see more clearly. This particular meditation asked us to picture ourselves sitting in the shade of a palm tree on a peaceful beach. As we look out over the water, we hear someone walk up and sit beside us. We look over to see Jesus, sitting with us, enjoying sights and sounds of the surf. After a time, Jesus looks at us and asks, "My child, what can I do for you?"
We are actually expected to answer this question?! The savior of the world, the man who died for me, is asking what more He can do for me? Because being scourged and crucified wasn't enough? How do I answer this? But in a moment, the answer came. I told Him I needed Him to love me the way my family doesn't.
Anyone who knows me well knows that my relationship with my family (husband and sons excluded) is strained at best. It would be safe to say that at this point it is pretty much non-existent. I haven't spoken to my dad in over 3 years, I haven't been able to get my mother to return a phone call in almost 2 months, my brother and I merely tolerate each other for the family's sake, and my sister is giving me the silent treatment because I decided to attend my friend's wedding instead of the family holiday shindig (long story there.) Not exactly feeling the love here. But even the red-headed step-child deserves to be loved, and this red-headed step-child knows that the unconditional love of which my earthly family seems to be incapable will forever flow from the Ultimate Big Brother and my family in His spirit.
The meditation continues by asking us to picture ourselves still sitting with Jesus under the palm. After a time, we look to Him and ask, "Lord, what can I do for you?"
Confession time ~ I never want to ask this question, because I know He will answer it every time. And more often than not, I'm less that thrilled with the response. This was no exception. There was absolutely no hesitation in His reply ~ "Love your family the way I do."
SLAP!!
Ever try to argue with God? It's pointless, I know, but sometimes I give it a whirl. Never once can I remember being successful. The trend holds here. He has just commanded me to love my family in a way that they cannot love me. How unfair is this?! Why should I have to love folks who clearly have no interest in returning the courtesy, or even seem to care whether I love them or not? Do I really have to love them as much as He does? Don't you think that's asking a bit much? Then it dawned on me that I am asking this of a man who died for people who hated Him. Asking me to love people that simply don't care seems like a petty request in comparison.
Yet, for me, this is a huge burden to carry. My spirit is at constant war with the flesh in which it is trapped, and though my spirit knows this must be done, my flesh resists with all the hurtful spite it can muster. My spirit wants to obey, but my flesh is still healing hurts and wounds. My spirit tries to love, but my flesh succumbs to the cold-heartedness it perceives. When it comes right down to it, I'm not ready to love them like He does. I'm having a hard time loving them because I have to as the family given me, let alone with the unconditional and boundless love of Christ.
I am so grateful that Jesus knows that this side of heaven we are all works in progress. He also knows that in the end, He always wins and I eventually follow where He leads ~ oftentimes kicking and screaming all along the way. In my heart of hearts, I believe that I will someday reach a place where I can love my family like He does. Unfortunately, it isn't here under this palm.
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