His Burden Is Light

I hate when my boys cry.  I know this is hypocritical, because I cry all the time. But I like to think I cry over really important issues. My children cry because they don't want their vegetables or they don't want to clean their room or they forgot to do their homework or some other asinine reason.  On President's Day, my oldest, Jaden, was crying at 8 o 'clock at night because his Spanish homework was hard and he didn't think he could finish it by his 830 bedtime.  To me this was not an acceptable reason to cry.  He had three days to do his Spanish homework and he waited until 830 the night before it was due. No bueno.

I told him to quit crying, suck it up and do what he could before bed.
Jaden's aunt who was over, started helping him. "I love word search puzzles," she said.  "Let me help you." I was glad that she was building a relationship with my son, but it made me wonder why I was totally lacking compassion at that moment. And I had an epiphany.

I have always believed in the adage, "God helps those who help themselves."  But I got to thinking about how my Jaden doesn't do himself any favors.   He puts things off to the last minute causing him stress in school.  He has a hard time controlling his temper, causing him stress at home; that kind of thing.  And then I got to thinking, that I am quite a bit like my son. There are so many areas of my life, weaknesses in my personality that I am utterly unable to fix.  I have tried to be sure, but I am just not strong enough.  So maybe God doesn't help those who help themselves.  Maybe God helps us because we can't help ourselves.

Jaden at his baptism. He is such a sweet boy. I love him!!

Matthew 11:28-30 says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  A yoke is a wooden beam put on the shoulders of cattle, or oxen so they can carry a load.  The yoke I place upon my shoulders, the load I try to carry, it is impossibly heavy.  I need to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect nurse, the perfect friend.  I also need to have a spotless house and cellulite free body.  I should never be depressed or anxious. I should never think bad thoughts, and I should never, ever say the S word.  Only when I can do all these things, will God help me.  But Matthew 11 says something different.  God wants to exchange my heavy burden for a light one.  He wants to take my load.


I am reminded of the Matthew West song that says 
 
I know I'm not strong enough to be
everything that I'm supposed to be
I give up
I'm not strong enough
Hands of mercy won't you cover me
Lord right now I'm asking you to be
Strong enough
Strong enough
For the both of us

So today I am committing to a life change.  I am going to give my load to God.  And I am going to encourage my children to give their loads to God, because they aren't strong enough either.  And I might, just maybe, help my children with their Spanish homework when they wait until the last minute to do it.   Because I want to be a tangible example of Christ's love for them.  Jesus, Gracias por su ayuda.

Medium Sized

My son Cael turned 9 years old last month.  I know in most circles that is not a milestone birthday, but in our family it has become a big deal.  9 years old means you are no longer a Little Kid, instead you are a Medium Kid.

The distinguished title of Medium Kid came about several years ago on a family bowling trip. Cael was about 7 years old at the time and despite Cael's best efforts he could not outscore his older brother.  After the bowling, Cael was frustrated and pouting.  In an effort to make him feel better, I told him that he did really well but that he couldn't expect to bowl like a professional or even as well as Jaden because he was just a "little kid."  Cael started crying, balling hysterically really.  He said that being called a little kid was the worst insult he had ever recieved.  And yes, he did use those words.  He went on to tell me that he could not believe his own mother would be so cruel to him.  Again, his words.  I had to save the situation so I calmly explained that everyone knows you are a Little Kid until you turn 9, after which you become a Medium Kid.  You weren't actually a Big Kid until you became a teenager.  After about 3 hours, a Dr. Pepper, and an ice cream sundae at Village Inn, this became an acceptable explanation and I was forgiven.

Medium sized has its advantages.  You become a better bowler.  You are more helpful around the house so you can earn more money.  You can be somewhat trusted with expensive electronics.  You get to take drum lessons.  I don't believe there is any part of Cael that wishes he was 8 years old again.

Cael

As a mother, I am not so sure I like medium sized.  Cael got called to the principal's office for the first time in the last month.  It was not his fault, he tells me, his friend was pushing and he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Also, at his birthday party, his 9 year old friend was talking about "boobs".  What???? At nine?????  Cael told me he thought this was disgusting and didn't want his friend to come over again, ever.    Thank the good Lord. 

 But still, I am reminded that you can't shelter Medium Kids quite as well as you can shelter Little Kids.  Jaden will be 13 in two years and I am certain that sheltering Big Kids will be even harder than sheltering Medium Kids.  I don't like this, but what other options do I have?  Even if I homeschooled them, and didn't allow my children access to media, and never took them anywhere, eventually my Big Kids would be adults.  And then what??   I guess I could tie them up.  But my boys will be taller and stronger than me very soon.

My Medium Kids; Jaden and Cael

I can't shelter them, protect them, hide them or tie them up.  I can only raise them and ask God to build them. One of my very favorite poems is by General Douglas McArthur.  It is my prayer for my boys as they grow.  The poem is just of a medium size, so I encourage you to read it.

Build Me A Son, O Lord

Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid; one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory.

Build me a son whose wishbone will not be where his backbone should be; a son who will know Thee and that to know himself is the foundation stone of knowledge. Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort, but under the stress and spur of difficulties and challenge. Here let him learn to stand up in the storm; here let him learn compassion for those who fail.

Build me a son whose heart will be clean, whose goal will be high; a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men; one who will learn to laugh, yet never forget how to weep; one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past.

And after all these things are his, add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor, so that he may always be serious, yet never take himself too seriously. Give him humility, so that he may always remember the simplicity of greatness, the open mind of true wisdom, the meekness of true strength.

Then I, his father, will dare to whisper, “I have not lived in vain.”

-General Douglas MacArthur