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Category Archives: Tweens/Children

Slice of Freedom: Eating Pizza for the First Time

I was at a meeting at the dance studio the first time he said, “Can I have some pizza?” I had to ask him to repeat what he said because I was incredulous. He had been set free, through prayer, of his dairy (and other) allergy for a while now, but fear still sometimes prevented him from trying to take in too much. He had been medically tested to back up (for school purposes) what happened through prayer, and we took a cautious approach, introducing a small amount at a time. A tiny smear of cream cheese here, a piece of shredded cheese there. But pizza had not been of any interest to him up to this point.

Backing up…a lot of people who are bold in their faith of healing prayer encouraged us to have him chug glasses of milk. Actually, we had him rub it into his skin first, on the day of the prayer, and then let him swallow a bit of milk. At that point in time, before prayer, he would break out into hives just from his hand touching spilt milk and projectile-vomit any swallowed milk. On the day he was prayed for, he was fine on both counts, but we did not press him to take in more than he wanted to. And while other people’s faith seemed greater on our behalf, and I’m so thankful for them, we ourselves were only just starting to not clench too hard to the epi pen in moments like this one. For better or worse, we needed more faith history in this. And for a while I beat myself up for not wanting to feed him a dairy-only diet for the days following to prove something to myself and to strengthen my faith, but I didn’t need to prove anything to God. He knew my slow unclenching of the epi pen and testifying to each brave new step we took was me yielding, submitting, and learning to trust Him more. Had I rushed into it, I would have missed steps along the way where I needed to learn more about Him. Others may embrace this boldly because their lessons were already learned. For us, there was a story of trust and deep faith being written, and we were the main characters in it.

Back to where we were on the day that changed dietary history in our home with just a simple slice of pizza: We had broken from our event planning meeting (for an upcoming fundraiser) to order some pizza. And Little Man decided this was the day he’d like to try it. I have to admit, 7 months after being released of these allergies after years of them ruling our lives, my first thought was to look to see if the epi pen bag was with us. Knee-jerk reaction. If that shows a lack of faith, I guess you could consider me still a work-in-progress then. I’m just being honest. We lived in fear for years. We were still pushing fear out the door. God had taken it, but we still thought we saw the phantom of it taunting us for a long time.

So, with two of my good friends as witnesses, Little Man took a few bites of that cheesy goodness. Nothing. No belly ache, no vomiting, no hives, no difficulty breathing. I actually think we started with crust, but he convinced me to move on to the cheesy part—my reluctance and not his. This is how I knew in that moment that God was offering peace. Because my son not only expressed interest but was peaceful and eager to ingest something formally seeming like poison to his physical body.

So, I think we let him have two pieces that day. I’ve never seen a kid so happy about anything—not Christmas morning, not a vacation, not the swimming pool opening for the season. He had just discovered pizza at 7 years old for the very first time, and he was head-over-heels in love.

What followed were about 10 days of nonstop pizza eating. I admit that I indulged it. I gave it to him anytime he wanted it: at breakfast, Ellios frozen pizza, Dominos, local pizza places, etc. Every few days we tried a new topping. He was caught up in some kind of heavenly experience. He talked about it at bedtime: “Mom, what kind of pizza can I eat next? Should I try sausage or pepperoni?” It was so fun to watch.

But what also followed were 10 days of his body learning to process the pizza. Mostly our house just needed a lot of air freshener and open windows in those days. I’ll leave it up to your imagination. He wasn’t sick. I liken it to a new baby trying a new food, and for a few days, the bowel does some funky things with it. I told my kids to be patient, that this too shall pass (excuse the pun), and that this is an amazing victory in our lives.

It also meant not packing a special lunch to go to pizza birthday parties with. It opened up a whole new world.

What can be celebrated in your house today? It might not be of this magnitude every day. But any time we can do something we couldn’t do before, it’s an amazing moment for thankfulness. Running that marathon (or half-marathon). Strengthening those abs. Conquering that Rachmaninoff piece. Having something taken off an IEP. Or going off the IEP altogether. Getting through that tough year with a teacher/instructor you didn’t jive with. Training those puppies. Learning better food intake self-control. Choosing not to rage in traffic. Making that career change. Choosing not to gossip when the rest of the room is.

In our family, we thank God for these moments because we feel incapable of making such amazing changes in our own strength. We feel it all comes from Him. We are responsible for our choices, but at the end of the day, we like to look up to thank Him for guiding us.

Which victory in your life can you celebrate today?

James 1:17, James, brother of Jesus, speaking

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

Isaiah 53:5, Isaiah the Prophet speaking

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.

Yelling My Way up the Highway

27 Aug

Overall, I am not a yelling kind of mom. I have my moments, but overall, I am not too bad on the temper. But this title tells it exactly as it was a few months ago. I yelled my way up the highway. On the phone. To the two family members at home who were not going to therapy, while I went to therapy with a different one. Screamed my way right up to our appointment. Yes, yes I did. To share how I got to this lovely place, let me back up.

So I picked up the child who is dealing with some ADHD-based anxiety. This required me having everything else in place for the two other children during that time. It meant making sure that they had snack to get themselves, managed homework, and were ready in dance/karate clothes by the time I arrived home to take them to their activities. It meant getting to the school before the buses lined up and getting on the main highway traveling one state over before traffic jumped on with me.

But it also meant catching a pastry and frappuccino with the one headed to the appointment. And sitting there getting some work done while soothing music played in the waiting room, eucalyptus scents pumped in the air from somewhere, and chairs were comfy. It meant quiet, calm, taking a deep breath, and something to build good things into my child.

So just as I got on the road, the first child off the bus obediently called in to let me know he had arrived. Twenty minutes later, the second child called. I asked about her day, cheerleaded her on about the list I hoped would be done by the time I came home, and quickly got off the phone, knowing my peeps were home safe and had locked all doors behind them. But then—but then. The phone rang again two-thirds of the way into the next state, and here came that Mama Know: that feeling that trouble was afoot. And indeed it was. There was a control battle going on between the one with homework to do on the computer and the one using it for game-playing who got on first.

And they couldn’t work it out themselves.

And I was driving in traffic.

And I didn’t want to be a parent right then.

I wanted my drive with the other child to be peaceful, expectant, and free of anything at home. But it never is when we are responsible for others, even when they are not physically with us. So, I ended up so frustrated and disappointed with their behavior, after several rounds of the innocent act on both of their parts via phone, that I did what every traffic-crazed, frustrated, stressed-out parent wanting five minutes of peace to him/herself does: I barked out a bunch of consequences, made the recreational-computer-use one get off the computer, drew a boundary that I would not hear any more about it (I’m a boundary junkie, after all), and hung up. But in the meantime I had yelled my way up the highway, and when I hung up, there was complete silence. Not peace, but silence. I think even the radio knew to turn itself off.

The child traveling with me shared the silence with me for the last 6 minutes of the ride. I think he knew better than to mess with me in that moment. But as I pulled in and said I was still angry because of an issue the siblings were having over the computer, this one quietly piped up: “That’s what I figured.” And, BOOM! It hit me that we were on our way to THERAPY, for crying out loud, looking for some peace in a few areas, and I yelled our way there. How’s that for anxiety levels? Blood pressure? And I could just imagine him sharing with the therapist how Mom yelled all the way there. Oh wow. I half-expected her to invite me in to the office as well. But this child, despite the anxiety, put calm into his words. He was gentle, yet strong. He reassured me just by tone of voice.

And God does this. He takes the rage in us and quiets it—when we ask Him. He settles the matter by speaking into the storm. He doesn’t take on the anger of the storm itself or fight with the wind. He just tells it to be quiet. His calming-yet-commanding voice alone has the power to defuse it. Jesus, please tell the storm in me to settle. My rage needs to lick a shut-up-sicle. In Your presence, all chaos must settle and peace usher in.

Mark 4:35-41, Apostle John-Mark narrating

That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the
other side.” Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” They were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”

I am not proud of this moment, but am glad that there are second chances at these times, that the other child didn’t go into his appointment permanently scarred by Mom’s rage, and that I can take my lack of peaceful parenting and give it to God, and when He gives it back to me (assuming I fully let go), He will help me do better the next time. He will teach me and humble me.

And He will for you too.

*This blog has been shared at Women With Intention Wednesdays and A Little R & R.

3 Comments

Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on August 27, 2014 in ADHD, Anxiety/OCD/Depression, Grace in Big Gulps, Tweens/Children

Tags: ADHD, anxiety, Even the wind and waves obey him, Jesus calms the storm, Mark 4:35-41, rage, storm, yelling

Top 10 Reasons I’m Sad to See Those School Buses Roll In

26 Aug

Um, what? Did you say sad?

This may seem like an unusual twist on the usual, slightly negative countdowns to the start of school by frantic parents like myself who are ready to restore order to the summer chaos, get their houses cleaned up, get back to a schedule/routine, and experience a little bit of daytime quiet. I’m right there along with everyone else. There is a part of me holding my breath until the buses roll in and nobody is running around putting half-filled cups on the coffee table, leaving used socks strewn all over wherever they took them off, expecting to be fed at noon, asking for nonstop snacks, and bickering over whose turn it is for “screen time.” Yes, yes, I could easily do that top 10. I practically just did.

But I decided to look up instead of down, to challenge myself to think about what I will miss the most when the buses roll in one after the other in the morning. And I spent a lot of time on this because the joys of summertime with three of God’s amazing blessings are hard to nail down. There are so many things I could name. Which ones are the most significant? Read the rest of this entry »

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Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on August 26, 2014 in Teens, Tweens/Children

Tags: back to school, bus, end of summer, school bus

School Start: Open House Angst

21 Aug

I have to admit that I wasn’t very enthused about going to the lower elementary school open house this morning. For one thing, it was a reminder of all the paperwork and gym shoe shopping I still had to do. For another, this week already had a middle school tour, a high school tour, four karate classes, blog deadlines, marketing plan to go over and rework, too many late nights still when the kids should be easing back into earlier bedtimes—but they aren’t—finishing those books that needed to be read over the summer by my resident tween and teen, a husband traveling all week, clean laundry all over the hallway waiting for the folding fairy, and two appointments to catch up with one of the specialists my child sees 45 minutes away. This is on top of the fact that our affordable grocery store chain in the Boston area is still on strike (pretty much the entire summer!). I’m about to let Samson and Delilah (our Shih Tzus) loose to hunt bunnies and squirrels and roast them over the fire because I do not have it in me to go into massive grocery stores and learn a new layout. (And don’t get me started on returning to school the day before the buses roll in to give asthma meds to the school nurse because that is a separate trip from the open house.)

The truth is we have great schools. I’m not unhappy about school starting. But last year was a rough ride for Little Man, and the closer we head into school starting again, the more I see the panic creeping in. It took me a few days, but I think I can name it now. I think he is processing this: “Will I feel that sad again? If we enter the same time of year when the Great Sadness came, does it get to gobble me up again?” And so I gently coaxed him into meeting his new teacher because, even though she didn’t have to, she came in today to reassure her students. But he stood there empty, flat, dark circles under the eyes, and tears brimming but not spilling. He vocalized that he didn’t want to think about school starting. And yet he is a very jovial kid, usually. He’s fun to be around and humorous. This is the kid I wanted to go in and meet his sweet teacher today.

But we don’t plan anxious thoughts. We don’t schedule them. They are always inconvenient. And I felt my own rigidity as I battled within between frustration and great sadness. He met his classmates with cautious greeting, and he wanted to rush me right out of there.

And I took a few steps back. I considered that jovial Little Man can also be fearful Little Man, but one doesn’t mean the other is no longer there. I thought about how it feels to fear the return of the Great Sadness. It sucks us inside-out. But my job is to let him know we are victors, he and I. He doesn’t know my story yet, but I know his. And we can face that time of year again together, gasping for air if we have to, but putting our hands in the hands of Jesus and taking a big step. We are not alone.

This year was full of big steps for Little Man. God gave him many people to help him, and he came through just fine. But even in the low points, there was a Best Friend walking with us, holding Little Man up so he didn’t fold into himself. We keep asking Him to make something beautiful from the Great Sadness. And we know that He will because only He can turn darkness into light that shines such beauty over everything in its path. I’m personally so grateful for this promise that a holy God would walk among us. It brings our family tremendous comfort and confidence. If you believe in Him, where do you feel Him taking steps with you in this season?

Leviticus 26:12, God speaking through Moses

“I will walk among you and be your God, and you will be my people.”

Philippians 4:4-9, Apostle Paul speaking

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

More discussion on how God walks with us in very tangible, clear ways can be found in Not Just on Sundays: Seeking God’s Purpose in Each New Day, expected September 2014.

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Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on August 21, 2014 in Anxiety/OCD/Depression, Dance/Karate/Robotics/Band/Basketball/XC Mom, Tweens/Children

Tags: anxiety, I will walk with you and be your God, open house, sadness, school

“Fart Buckets”

19 Aug

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If the word “fart” in the title has already turned you off, no worries. I get it. But for those of you intrigued enough to read more, you are about to learn what “fart buckets” are.

I used to have a few favorite bad words. I wasn’t always public with them. Sometimes I’d only share them with a few friends who could handle it. I was selective with my usage, like a bad word snob. After all, words are everything to me, so even my choice of a zinger now and then was carefully thought out and expertly delivered, sometimes even in the heat of anger. Every once in a while the mouth still tries to overpower my self-discipline of cleaning up my vocabulary and leading an exemplary verbal life in front of my children, and even in private. But “fart buckets” became, somewhat unconsciously, a combination of my desire to clean up my act but still hang onto the potty humor that I admit I really have a hard time severing myself from. And we like to laugh a lot in my house about the raw stuff of life. Humor gets us through so many darker, heavier moments. And so to lighten things up, “fart buckets” became my standby exclamation of surprise, although I really didn’t realize how frequently until—well, until Mother’s Day 2014.

Upon going through the weekend paperwork of my youngest son’s (8 year old) homework/take-home folder—which in and of itself I should get a paycheck for, times 3 kids—I discovered what was meant to be a surprise for me for Mother’s Day. I was certainly surprised by it, but lacking self-control in this department, I took a quick glimpse. Oh, it was a surprise all right! It read like this:

My mom always says: “fart buckets.”

My mom looks pretty when she cooks dinner.

My mom likes to cook pumpkin muffins.

My mom makes me laugh when she says, “fart buckets.”

I love my mom because she’s nice.

So, several of those lines are just plain lovely. Really quite sweet. But twice? Twice on the “fart buckets,” Little Man? Seriously? I took in my breath for a minute upon reading this. It said a lot about me. It said a lot about him. It said a lot about our relationship.

And I loved every minute of it.

So, I secretly rushed it over to my husband and laughed raucously until I cried. Tears poured out of my eyes. Because I make Little Man laugh. Because he sees me as human and not on some ethereal pedestal that he can’t reach. Because I’m real to him. Because he chose those words to reflect me. And because laughter and playfulness had recently returned to him after a dry spell of worry, I celebrated this. I wore it with pride. I smeared it all over my personal social media account. I framed it and drew an arrow to point to it.

And I thought of a teacher who was a bit more on the reserved, hold-it-all-in side, and it made me giggle because when she saw this, she asked him: “Does your mom really say that?”

And he proudly said: “Yes.”

And she said: “Okay, then, as long as she really does.” [Points for her for not shutting this moment down.]

He had perfect spelling and punctuation, which also delighted me.

And that just put the biggest smile on my face that he could be that free. And when he asked me if that bothered me (which did not seem to be his goal), I was so happy to be able to say: “No, Little Man, it doesn’t. I think it’s awesome.”

And that’s not my ornery side talking. It’s just me celebrating his freedom and this amazing level of being comfortable with each other. And for this reason, I’m pretty certain that “fart buckets” will not ever leave my vocabulary completely.

Not ever.

4 Comments

Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on August 19, 2014 in Anxiety/OCD/Depression, Tweens/Children

Tags: fart, mother's day, potty humor

Far-Sighted Savior, Short-Sighted Me

16 Aug

Sometimes something stops us completely in our tracks, shutting out all other sound around us, demanding our focus and blurring everything else from our sight. Sometimes those moments define everything from that point forward, setting a new timeline, somehow starting a new chapter we never intended to write—or even read. And then weeks, months, a season or two later, we look back and see the road we went down in that moment that brought both panic and fear as well as blessings. We might even be able to finally bring into focus the things that were blurred for a while, mourning what we missed along the way as a “new normal” invaded our lives. I didn’t want our “new normal,” as I’m sure others didn’t always want theirs, whatever trial stopped them in their tracks. I would rather wake back up to September 2013 and restart, beating against the anxiety/OCD battle that was coming against one of our children. But while we walk this road, not only is there a Savior walking it with us, but He has eyes to see the other side of it. He can see us adapted, adjusted, accepting, dealing, coping, persevering in this new chapter. He can see the fog cleared on the other side: the answers, the new people we are shaped into from being tested in the trials of life. I trust His eyes because mine can’t see that far. How about you? His power is made perfect in our weakness. If you find yourself mourning an old chapter today, wanting the new one to disappear, this verse is also for you today and always, if you place trust in Him. Your Savior deeply loves you— enough to die on a cross for you and me.

2 Corinthians 12:9, Apostle Paul speaking of Jesus

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

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