Gifts

As I remember our Christmas tree last year, I’m reminded of all the presents spilling out from the tree skirt and invading the living room floor. We had packages of all shapes and sizes with brilliant wrapping paper and some with understated, simple paper hiding the contents of each box.

Now, as I watch my Stanton as a 5 year old big boy bounding off the school bus with his beautiful blue eyes and straight, blond hair, I think of his “wrapping” and think of our new baby John Davis. Certainly the outside wrapping for John is different. John’s hair is dark, his little nose is smaller and he is much smaller than Stanton was as a baby. But I wonder if there will be similarities in their personalities, the inside of the wrapping? Will John have Stanton’s adorable giggle, his gentle soul and intense love of music? As this little package is slowly unwrapped and the “goods” are revealed day by day, he will probably be quite a surprisingly different little human than our first gift. No matter. They will both have one very important thing in common. Both of these dear souls are amazing gifts from God for us to treasure each and every moment. We’re called to love all “packages” sent to us from God; we know this. At times, though, we forget. We gravitate toward those gifts that are easy to love. The attractive, the bright, the pleasant ones are a breeze to embrace, but the rumpled and crumpled, the less than perfect? These we sometimes struggle to accept, don’t we? We are called to look beneath, under the wrapping, to seek out the unique and amazing qualities God has given this package and embrace this one, too.

Try to remember this during this season of giving. Think, just for a moment as you watch those who come into your world about the amazing and wonderful gifts God has given us to love.

Blessings,

Dr. Paula

Separating

I'll never forget the first time I dropped Stanton Dean off at the church nursery. He was seven weeks old, and Michael and I had planned to attend worship services without him. As soon as I handed Stanton over to Jen Stuart, he began to cry. I just knew I'd be brave and strong and be able to walk away knowing that Jen and her staff would take great care with our new baby, but I was wrong. I crumbled. As we walked toward the Sanctuary, Michael asked, "Where do you want to sit?" I sniffed, "In the nursery with Stanton."

As it turned out, he was just fine and so was I, but that first time was so hard for me. We parents know that when we leave our children in another's care, there is an incredible amount of trust involved. I knew Jen and most of the childcare workers were beyond capable, and I trusted them to care for my little one just as I do. Time and time again, as we dropped Stanton off, the transition grew easier for me and for him. I learned to trust others with my baby and he began to expand his circle of trust beyond just mommy and daddy.

The key to easier transitions, I soon learned, is consistency. If we missed a couple of Sundays, Stanton would cry (I would cringe) and it took us both more than just a few minutes to feel comfortable. When we attended services regularly, Stanton began to anticipate his time with his church buddies and the childcare workers he now knew by name! Just recently did I begin to understand that this little scenario also applies to the consistency I demonstrate in my worship (both formal services and time alone with God).

When I consistently put my trust in my Father through prayer or quiet moments with Him, I am immediately comfortable in our conversations, in our relationship. The longer I stay away (either literally or figuratively) from that time together, the harder it is for me to feel close, to feel connected, to my God.

Hopefully, this fall will bring a new resolve for you and your family: To be consistent in your worship, both formal services and private moments alone with our Father.

peace to you,

Dr. Paula

Transitions

I know, I know, I must be off my rocker not writing a mother’s day article for May, but this is about an important part of motherhood, so I think that counts!

You know, when I hear the word transition, I tend to think of a slow, gradual move or shift into something new. I picture this old commercial for transition lenses that used to make me laugh. The person is wearing regular glasses and walks outdoors where they slowly change to sunglass lenses. I don’t get out much, obviously, because that image is still stuck in my mind!

However, the transitions I’ve experienced with Stanton haven’t been gradual at all, not really. When he walked, he walked. One day he was scooching along the living room floor and the next, boom! he was a walking machine. The move to preschool when I took on this job was not gradual. One day, we were together each and every moment; the next, he was gone for four hours of my day. It was terribly traumatic for me, not at all slow and gradual. But he was so happy about both of these big leaps in his growth. He loved being mobile and felt very much in control of his world with this new power of his. And Miss Dottie and Miss Georgia were his “cuddle buddies” that he loved tremendously. He also craved the interaction with these new peers. He could try out new words, trade toys and even learn how to recover from physical and emotional “owees” just by watching the other little humans in his room.
Now, at the end of this school year, he will be a FUMP graduate. There will not be a gradual move away from his beloved school and precious teachers and friends. One day, he’ll be in Miss Erin and Marla’s room with his best friends and the next, boom! his world will be completely different. And so will mine. So will mine. I cannot think about this leap into kindergarten away from his FUMP without crying, but not in front of him! For Stanton, there will be a moment or two of sadness and a touch of fear, but the overwhelming emotion will be of excitement about the new world of kindergarten and “big boy” pursuits. I am so pleased by all he has learned and how much he has grown. I would not have him stay behind or wish that his experiences here were any different at all. I am so pleased that he’s excited about his new school next year and seems to feel a certain sense of invincibleness about the whole process. For me, the change will be instant, but the letting go will definitely be gradual. It would be too difficult to shut that door and not look back. But, you know, God wouldn’t have our growth experiences be any other way either.
God loves to watch as we progress from one step to the next level of growth. I picture His pride in our making these leaps and stretches into the beings we were created by Him to be. However, there is also the wonderful assurance, that should we stumble, should we feel fear, that God is right there for us to fall into if the need arises. I don’t know God’s plan for me or for my precious child, but this I do know… “For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11) That gives me peace. Immediately.

Blessings to you,

Dr. Paula

Let Go of that Banana!

Let go of that banana!

I remember so clearly a story my grandmother told me when I was so little…A monkey was bounding happily through the jungle and saw a small cage with bars very close together. Inside the cage was one, ripe banana. Ah! The little monkey couldn’t resist. He had to turn his little hand sideways to squeeze through the bars and grab the banana. Once he had the banana in his little fist, he tried to pull his hand back out of the cage, but he was stuck. He pulled and struggled and jumped around, but there was no way he could get that banana out. What’s more, he couldn’t escape the cage unless he dropped the banana and turned his hand sideways. There were bunches and bunches of other delicious bananas hanging in the trees all around him, but our stubborn little friend wouldn’t let go of the banana in the cage! Hanging on meant being trapped; letting go meant freedom and the promise of tasty snacks abundant in the jungle around him.

I remember smugly thinking how ridiculous that little monkey was. I would never have done that! Of course, I would let go of that one silly banana and choose freedom and the promise of more fruit snacks awaiting me in the jungle. But, not so fast! I notice that at time, when the banana is anger from a wrong someone has inflicted upon me, I cling to that banana with incredible strength and stubbornness. I know in my head that releasing the anger is the only way to experience the peace and freedom that comes with forgiveness, but at times I still stay “trapped” by my inability to release. I know God has forgiven me and continues to forgive me more times than I can ever count or begin to deserve, but I don’t always model that forgiveness the way that I want to.

What “bananas” are you hanging on to? Wouldn’t the peace and freedom that comes with forgiveness taste so much sweeter than the anger you’re holding so tightly? Try it. Slowly loosen your grip on the anger and move gently toward the peace and freedom that comes when we forgive as we have been forgiven.

Peace and forgiveness are yours,

Dr. Paula

Hiding prayers

Last week I talked to our children about a magic trick of sorts. I held up a gold coin and a colorful cloth. When we see someone holding a coin and cloth, there is usually going to be some sort of exciting magic trick just around the corner. Not this time! I placed the coin on the carpet and carefully covered it wiht the cloth. I asked the children, "Is the coin still there?"
"Oh, yes" they all replied. But how do you know, I asked. Can you see it? They couldn't see the coin, but knew it was still there because they watched me. I hadn't taken it away.

"Let's pull back the cloth slowly and carefully and see if you're right," I told them. With very slow, methodical motions, I pulled away the cloth. Ta-da! The coin was still there on the carpet! I asked the children if they were surprised. "No, we knew it would be there."

That little coin and cloth can represent so many of my encounters with God. There have been times in my life that I didn't feel God with me at all. I would have sworn the coin was not under the cloth because I felt so afraid or alone. My God was covered by a cloth of fear and loneliness. At other times, my God was covered by a cloth of frenetic activity. I felt so rushed and frazzled that I couldn't see God's presence until I removed the cloth and listened to His soft, still voice.

The cloth that covers our God can be any number of things as we journey together. For some, God is hidden by a cloth of anger or resentment from a recent hurt. At other times, the cloth is sadness resulting from the loss of a loved one or a long-hoped for dream. No matter the what the cloth is, it's important for us to lift it and look again at the coin, at our God's steadfast presence in our lives. As a reminder of His presence, carry a special coin with you in your pocket or purse as we journey closer to Easter this year. Hold that coin and know that it is just as solid and real as God's loving presence in your life today and everyday.

blessings to you,

Dr. Paula

Rite of Passage

I was taking Stanton's little jeans out of the dryer last night and noticed something that gave me pause. I saw a worn place (almost a hole but not quite) in the knee. "He is a real boy now", I said to myself. I knew this day would come, but already? Just yesterday I was standing in this exact same spot, very pregnant, folding little onesies that I had received at my shower thinking, "Very soon there will be a baby filling this out!"

This near hole in the knee of his jeans tells me so much about him and what he spends his time doing these days (as if I didn't know already!) The work of a four year old boy is almost entirely done at either a full speed run or while scooching along on his knees. I looked at this hole and realized that my baby is now a boy, a real boy. His activities, his habits, are forming who he is and what he does. This hole also tells me what he values, what he gives time to.

Let's take this to the grown ups, shall we? If God were to look at my jeans, would he find holes? Would my habit of prayer be frequent enough to make an impact on the knees of my jeans? Now, we know that prayer doesn't have to be on one's knees (in fact, it might be a bit painful for some of us these days!) but we could take this analogy to heart anyway. Am I praying so often that there is a "worn out" path leading from my heart to God's ear?

Just as Stanton's jeans have let me know he has passed into the world of boydom, so should my prayer path demonstrate that I've graduated or am at least progressing in my journey to become a better Christian. What are my habits? How are they shaping how I spend my day, cope with problems, celebrate joys? I want my daily dealings to be deepening that path to God so that I become accustomed to doing all of these things with Him and not on my own.

Take a look at your "knees" and see if you could spend a bit more time developing a worn out spot there. I know I can.