Teaching Kindness

I have good intentions.

I am loaded with them.

I am always thinking of things I want to do for people: bake for them, make for them, cards to write, notes to send, doing this, doing that.

The problem, though, is that I often lack follow through.

Very often.

Saying "I hope you feel better" is one thing.

But sometimes we need to step up and do a little bit more.

I'd like to improve in this area of my life.

Why?

Mostly because it feels good to do nice things for other people.

It gives me a great amount of joy. 

Also, I know how good it makes me feel when others send a little kindness my way, and I want to share that feeling.

I also want to teach my children to find the joy in being kind.

If you have spent any time around children, you know being kind does not come naturally.

Thinking of themselves first is actually what comes naturally.

It may pain you to admit that sweet little children are quite often selfish little beasts, but that is the cold, hard truth.

So what can I do to help my children not turn into selfish adults?

Here are a few ideas:

1.  Start small.

2.  Make it matter to them.

3.  Follow through.

Earlier this week, a friend from our home school group fell in her backyard and got a long splinter in her arm.  By the next morning it looked bad enough to warrant a doctor visit.
He declared it looked bad enough to warrant an ER visit.
The ER doctor declared it looked bad enough to warrant surgery.
Yes.
For a 4 year old with a big splinter in her arm.
She ended up with stitches, a soft cast and instructions to take it easy.


My initial thought was, "how can I help my friend as she deals with her injured daughter, her 2 other kids and running a household?"
I was ready to involve the kids in whatever item we were going to bake, but then I realized, I needed to let them minister to their friend.
She was the one who was hurting and this was a chance for them to show her some kindness.


So we made cards.
Watching chubby hands with dirty nails painstakingly writing out "Get Well Soon," and crumpling many a paper before it was right is a sweet little memory for me.
I love his big 4 year old letters.


James drew a portrait of her in her card.
It reminded me a bit of that drawing Napolean does for Trisha when he asks her to the prom.
I see some scary times ahead in the teen years, that's all I'm sayin.

Then we picked some flowers from our yard, put them a jar tied with a pink ribbon and delivered them to our friend.  (good reason to save your jars.  you never know when you might need a flower vase.)
The boys were thrilled with our little errand of kindness.
It meant a lot to them to be doing it for their friend, rather than my friend.
It was personal to them.


It didn't have to be fancy.  It just mattered that we did it.
It's like putting things away.  You have to do it right away, or things just pile up and you never get to it.
And when our friend's mommy called to say that it made J.'s day, the boys' faces lit up.
They were terribly embarrassed, but I could tell by their smiles that they felt good.
And that is what it is all about.
Doing good feels good.


Romans 12:9-21 is one of my favorite passages in the Bible.  It is so rich in practical advice on how I should live my daily life.  (read it here).
The kids are memorizing verses 9 & 10.  They fit so perfectly with my desire to teach them (and myself) to show kindness to others.


Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.


So tell me, how do you teach your children to be kind?
What kindness has been shown to you and what did it mean to you?
I'd love to be inspired by your stories.


Love from,
Greta

Lil's First Haircut

Not once in my life has anyone told me I have great hair.
But Lilly, my 2 and a half year old, hears it all the time.
And it's true; she does.

 All our kids have had great hair.
James came out of the womb with his hair in a perfect pompadour, styled just like his Daddy's.
It grew so fast and so thick that he had his first real hair cut when he was 8 months old.
He sat on Aaron's lap in the barber chair and got a man cut.
I took a million pictures.

William's dark hair all fell out and quickly grew in blond and curly.
I loved his curls so much I couldn't bear to cut them.
Often times when we went out he'd be buttoned up in one of the many vintage sweaters I bought at the Oxfam thrift stores in Scotland and England, with his lovely, long curls hanging to his shoulders.
Everyone thought he was a girl.
I hated cutting those curls.
Of course I saved some of them.

When I had Lil, I discovered that you don't have to cut girls' hair.
So I let it grow and grow.
It was so blond and long and beautiful, I didn't want to cut it off.
I am kind of in love with her hair.
I know.
Don't gag.

But finally, even I had to admit she was looking rather unkept.

Those long baby hairs were wispy and thin and hung at all sorts of lengths down her back.

It was time for a trim.

After the cut was over, my sweet friend Rebecca was sweeping up Lil's hair (she cut off a lot) and said, "Greta, do want to save any of this?"
And I realized, not only had I failed to take one picture of Lil's first haircut, but I wasn't even going to remember to save some of those soft, golden strands of baby hair.
Some day her hair will be dark brown like mine and no one will believe she was a blond bombshell.
Some kind of mother I am.
Rebecca scooped some up for me and I was, slightly, redeemed.

I still have my pony tail saved from a hair cut when I was 14.  It is so blond and different from my hair now that it is hard to imagine it was ever mine.
Is it weird to save hair?
Probably.
But those baby hairs are a part of my babies that I will never get back.
And Lilly's hair now looks even less babyish than it did before.
She's got that sweet little flip going on.
It is so thick.
She has big girl hair now.


So I want to hang onto a little bit of her babyhood.
Just like I have hung onto her brother's baby hair.
I love watching my kids grow into their own persons, to become independent and able to do things for themselves.
But there will always be a part of me that misses the baby days.
Just like everyone says, they disappear so fast.




Here's to your first haircut Lilly.
You look beautiful.
And don't ever forget that you've got great hair.
Love from,
Mommy




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On a different note: a word about my absence.
Aaron has been gone for the last 10 days.
Originally I thought, "I'll get lots of blogging while he's gone.  I am going to have all kinds of time on my hands every evening,"
What I wasn't accounting for is how tired I'd be every night.
I didn't plan on falling asleep on the couch at 8, unable to even fold that last load of laundry.


It's hard doing this all by myself!


And I think, at 34, pregnant with my 5th child and running after 3 others, I am finally accepting my limitations.
I am just too tired to stay awake.
In the past, the fact that I only managed to clean one closet while Aaron was gone (my big project was going to have all of them cleaned by the time he came home) that I didn't write a single blog post, and that I hardly managed to keep the house clean, would have bothered me tremendously.
But I have realized that I have time to do those things later.
And that I am growing a baby, 
And that it is OK to be tired.
And that it is OK not to get everything done right now.
Do you know how freeing that is?


It helps to watch my 2 year old have temper tantrums because she refuses to accept her limitations.
I realize that I don't want to be like that.
When she dresses herself, and her underwear get caught under her bum, I kindly help pull them up.
She looks at me with contempt, takes her underwear off, and puts them back on.
ALL BY HERSELF.
Oh Lord, how many times have I done that, in effect, to my own mom?
And my husband?
I am sorry for being so stubborn.


Tonight she was taking off a dress and obviously struggling with it.
I asked her if I could help her.
"No," she said sweetly, "I am helping myself."
She is so much like me it is scary.


The good news is that I am finally figuring out not to act like a 2 year old.
At least, I hope I am.  (But my mom and Aaron will be able to tell you for sure and they might have a different view of things that I do.)


And now that I've gotten one blog written, the morning before Aaron gets home, I am going to resist the urge to clean a closet and go back to bed.
It's 3:30 in the morning and I can't sleep.
I can't wait to see my man!


Hoping to be back here more often now that life will be returning to normal.
But you never know.
And I am OK with that.
Love from,
Greta

Taking My Eyes Off Myself

Please allow yourself a few extra minutes to read this post.
Grab some coffee or come back when you'll have a bit of quiet.
It will be worth it, I promise.
.........................................................
Last night I went to a meeting with fellow home schooling mothers.  I attend monthly and count myself fortunate to do so.
We discuss a different topic each month, based on writings by Charlotte Mason, whose educational philosophy and methods we all follow.


Our topic last night was joy.  
In light of this post, I knew I wanted to attend even more than I usually do.


It was a good discussion, and the part that hit home most to me was the discussion of self pity.
I have been inclined to some self pity in the past few months.
And in the past few days, I have been hit over the head with reminders that I need to change my attitude.


This description of self pity, by Miss Mason herself, sums up so exactly the dangerous and destructive nature of self pity.
It robs us of our joy.
Self-Pity.––There is another class of persons in whom Pity is strong and ever-active; but all their pity is given to one object, and neither sorrow, pain, nor any other distress outside of that object has power to move them. These are the people who pity themselves. Any cause of pity is sufficient and all-absorbing. They are sorry for themselves because they have a headache, because they have a toothache, or because they have not golden hair; because they are lovely and unnoticed, or because they are lanky and unlovely; because they have to get up early, or because breakfast is not to their mind; because brother or sister has some pleasure which they have not, or because someone whose notice they crave does not speak to them, or, speaking, says, 'Make haste,' or 'Sit straight,' or some other form of 'Bo to a goose!' Such things are not to be borne, and the self-pitiful creature goes about all day with sullen countenance. As he or she grows older you hear of many injuries from friends, much neglect, much want of love, and, above all, want of comprehension, because the person who pities himself is never 'understood' by others. Even if he is a tolerably strong person he may become a hypochondriac, with a pain here, and a sensation there, which he will detail to his doctor by the hour. The doctor is sorry for his unhappy patient, and knows that he suffers from a worse malady than he himself imagines; but he has no drugs for Self-pity, though he may give bottles of coloured water and bread pills to humour his patient. You are inclined to laugh at what seems to be a morbid, that is, diseased, state of mind; but, indeed, the Demon of Pity, Self-pity, is an insidious foe. Many people, apparently strong and good, have been induced by him to give up their whole lives to brooding over some real or fancied injury. No tenant of the heart has alienated more friends or done more to banish the joys of life. (Charlotte Mason volume 4, pg 90)

Then, this morning, I awoke to read two eye opening blog posts.


The first is from my friend Nicole, and is about her  one year old daughter, Anabelle.  
Annabelle has spinal bifida and Nicole's daily life with her involves things I have never had to deal with.  Physical therapy, catheters and many rounds of doctor visits are all part of their life now.  Nicole also has a husband and 2 sons to care for.
I am certain she is often overwhelmed and if anyone could be given to self pity, it should rigthfully be Nicole.
But she she just plugs along and takes care of her baby girl and all the rest of the things she has to do as a wife and mother.
Last night Annabelle was admitted into the hospital.
She is having severe difficulty with her bowels.
You can read about what is going on here.
Go read it now.
Quite  a reality check, right?
Here I am, blogging about making orange juice with my kids and there is Nicole, up to her arms in poop.
Pray for Anabelle, will you?

The other story I read is of Joanne. 
Joanne is a 38 year old wife and mother.  
She is a writer.
3 days ago she suffered a massive stroke and is in the fight of her life.
I have been following her blog--had never hear of it before Tuesday-- and saw this post by her husband.
Go read it now.
Yet another reality check.
Please pray for Joanne and her family.

It is easy to get caught up in our own problems and our own sorrows.
And while I will not deny there have been things in my life as of late that have brought me great sadness, in comparison to what so many other people are going through, my problems are small.
It is important to have the proper perspective.
Otherwise we turn to self pity and we are robbed of all joy.

Taking my eyes off myself and putting them on others keeps me from being self absorbed and helps me be others absorbed.
"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves,  not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others."  Philippians 2:3-4

I have such a long way to go.
And I am grateful for the opportunity to think of others, to pray for them and to take my eyes off myself.

Wishing you a joy filled day.
Love from,
Greta

16 Weeks

We felt the baby kick this morning.  

All of us.

We were sitting around the kitchen table, eating breakfast, when I felt like there were firecrackers going off in my belly.

"The baby is kicking!" I yelled.

Aaron jumped up and put his hand on my belly.

"Can you feel that?" I asked with a smile a mile wide.

He could.

Then every one's hands were on my belly.

And we all felt this new life, already so loved and celebrated.

It was amazing.

This is the 4th time I have felt a baby moving in my belly.

But it never ceases to awe me.

I have been waiting for the kicks to be strong enough for everyone else to feel.

It was so much fun to share it with them.

I want to remember forever my 3 babes gathered around, hands on my stomach to feel their new sibling kicking at them.

I want to remember forever Aaron talking into my belly, saying, "I love you little baby," and the 3 of them following suit.

"Do you think it understands words already?" James wants to know.

All the sickness, the discomfort, the fatigue fades away in these moments and it is so worth it.

At 16 weeks, I already feel HUGE.
I feel huge with every pregnancy.
It isn't just a feeling--I am huge.
James was the only one I didn't show with right away.
I struggled with it at first, as if it were the olden days and I had to hide the fact that I was "in the family way."
When a friend saw me at 8 weeks and gasped, "wow! You're already showing!" I tried not to be bothered.
But then I realized: why?
Of course I am showing!  This is my 5th pregnancy.  And I was pregnant less than a year ago.
And, worse part, I have gained more weight in my first trimester with this pregnancy than I have with any other.
Like an embarrassing amount.
Like I would not have told my husband but he was with me and heard anyway.
Like I am not going to admit to you how much.
But I will say that 3 months of carbs and no exercise doesn't help with the weight gain.
I explained that to my Dr. and her response was, "you can start exercising now."
Ouch.

In many ways I have felt unable to fully enjoy this pregnancy.
Between all the distractions of the 3 big ones, the tiredness, the sickness and the emotional ups and downs I have been experiencing, I find whole days go by and I haven't even said a word to the baby.
Yes, I talk to the baby.
As often as I remember to.
Poor 4th child--neglected already.


So today was extra special.  
I will remember it always.
Sitting around our kitchen booth, sun streaming in the windows, soft boiled eggs and toast on the table, except for William who won't touch eggs, and all of us there, jumping up to experience this new person that is already a part of our family.
From the very start, babies are a miracle.


Love from,
Greta

Thank You

I want to thank you for your loving and supportive response to my last post.
I was humbled and touched by the sweet sweet words many of you shared with me.


In many ways it was one of the most difficult posts I have had to write.
Sometimes I just want to put on a brave face and act like nothing is wrong, except for the occasional breakdown, which everyone forgives because I am, after all, pregnant.  


But in the end, I chose to be honest and real.
Because if I can't be honest, then I am living my life like a sham, and that isn't a help to anyone, least of all to me.
There were plenty of times that I read the words of some one else walking where I was and their honesty, the story they shared, helped me.
It is my hope that I can provide that for someone else.  


On Saturday morning, when the sun was shining through my kitchen window, it lit up those tulips and made them even more beautiful then they already were.
I feel a bit like those tulips right now, basking in the light of God's love as shown through you.  
Thank you for being a light in my life.


Much love from,
Greta


PS.  I want to respond to each one of you who took the time to write comments or send me messages.  I will.  It just make take me a couple of days.

2010 Looking Back: But Joy Comes in the Morning

As 2011 approached, my one thought has been, "I can't wait for this year to be over."
2010 has not been my best year.
It has, in fact, been the most difficult one I have ever experienced.
This year I lost a baby, went through a rocky patch in my marriage and, for the first time in my life, I struggled with depression.
There were many mornings spent crying in the shower.
There were many nights with a wet pillow.
I have never felt so alone as I have this year.
Largely, that is my own fault.
None of the things I was dealing with were easy for me to talk about.
Especially for this girl who likes to have it together, handle things herself and be in control.
I am not good at asking for help.
Sometimes being fiercely independent isn't for the best.


I read these verses a lot.
"God is our refuge and strength, an ever present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea."
Psalm 46:1-2
Because that is how I felt--my earth was giving way.


And while things are not all better now, they are a lot better.
Once again God has proven Himself faithful.
He has given me joy in my sorrow.


It was a surprise, really.  
I was looking for a picture I wanted to print up for Aaron for Christmas.  And since I had a whole Saturday morning to myself, I just began looking at the hundreds, maybe thousands, of pictures I took this year.
As I looked, I smiled and cried and found that despite all my negative feelings about 2010, the year was also full of much, much goodness.
I felt like I had been given a gift.
Usually I am an optimist.  I try to find the sunshine in the shadows and make the best of things.
But I had let the shadows grow so dark over this year, that I had stopped seeing any sunshine at all.


It reminded me of another Psalm I have read much this year, waiting for it to be true in my life.
Psalm 30.
I especially liked verse 5, "weeping may tarry for a night, but joy comes in the morning."
Oh how I longed for that to happen.
It had.
I had to look for it.  I had to be reminded.
But it was there all along.


I hope I remember.  For I am sure there will be more dark days.
Dark years even.
But I know that even in darkness there is still light.
And for that I am grateful.


So here are some of those pictures I found, the sweet memories of good times, smiles, and the people I love most in the world.

(In no particular order)

2010

There were adventures.

There was pure joy.

There were breakfasts out.

And breakfasts in.

There were dreams realized, both small,

and big.

There was skateboarding.

And camping trips.

One was just for the boys.

There were cupcakes.

And many trips to the beach.

There was fun in the backyard.

And Mother's Day on the beach.

There were trips to our favorite places.

And hikes to our favorite peaks.

There was home improvement.

There was a walk in the redwoods.

There was laughter.

There were flowers.

And and stay at our favorite log cabin.

There were smiles.  (both real and fake)

 And new uniforms.

There were celebrations.

 And much time spent in underwear.

There were many stops just to take pictures of signs.

There were trips to the Tiki Room.

And traditions continued.

 There were amazing birthday parties.

There is a baby on the way!

There were weekends away.

And the day we watched the hawk.

There was love.

I can look back and smile.

Because joy comes in the morning.

There is much to look forward to in 2011.

That too, is part of the joy.

Happy New Year!

Love from,

Greta