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Concoction Recipes

community@focusonlinecommunities.com — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 16:12:50 GMT

Gooey Creation Gunk

What you'll need:

Solution A: 1 cup water, 1 cup white glue, 10 drops food coloring
Solution B: 1 1/3 cups warm water, 4 tsp. Borax laundry booster

How To Concoct:

Mix ingredients in Solution A together in a medium bowl.
In a second medium bowl, mix the ingredients in Solution B together until the Borax is completely dissolved.
Slowly pour Solution A into Solution B (Do not mix together!)
Gently roll Solution A around in Solution B for 4 to 5 minutes.
Lift Solution A out of Solution B and kneed for 2 or 3 minutes.
Store Gooey Creation Gunk in an airtight container or plastic bag.

Treasure Stones

What you'll need:

Treasures: Plastic beads, coins, small toys, erasers, etc.
1 cup flour
1 cup used coffee grounds
1/2 cup salt
1/4 cup sand
3/4 cup water

How to concoct:

Mix all dry ingredients together in medium bowl.
Slowly add water and need until consistency of cookie dough.
Break off a piece and roll into a baseball size form.
Make a hole in the center big enough for your treasure.
Fill hole with extra dough or form extra dough around to seal the treasure.
Place Treasure Stones on a cookie sheet and bake in the oven at 150 degrees for 15-20 minutes.

Ethiopia and the Art of the Outrageous Statement

community@focusonlinecommunities.com — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 08:47:04 GMT

http://mlb005.momaroo.com/729518382/ethiopia-and-the-art-of-the-outrageous-statement/

We are all accustomed to cheap kids jerseyshearing political figures, especially from authoritarian countries, make outrageous statements.

But I think Ethiopian Prime Minister Meles Zenawi may have uttered the most outrageous statement of all this past month when he compared Voice of America broadcasts to Ethiopia to the broadcasts of Radio Milles Collines, the infamous “hate radio” blamed for inciting the Rwandan genocide of 1994.

Here is what Ethiopia’s state-run news agency quoted coach purses Meles as saying:

“We have been convinced for many years and that in many respects, the VOA Amharic Service has copied the worst practices of radio stations such as the Radio Mille Collines of Rwanda, in its wanton disregard of minimum ethics of journalism, and engaging in destabilizing propaganda.”

Meles’ opposition to VOA broadcasts is being used Five Fingers Ksoas justification for Ethiopian jamming of VOA broadcasts. It now appears his government is expanding its censorship effort by blocking VOA’s website.

The U.S. government recently fired back at the Ethiopian leader. Acting State Department spokesman Gordon Duguid says Meles may disagree with the news carried by VOA but jamming VOA signals contradicts Ethiopia’s public commitment to freedom of the press. He says it also is in conflict with the country’s constitutional statement that all citizens have the right to freedom of expression “without any interference” and that this right shall include freedom to seek, receive, andnike running shoes impart information and ideas of all kinds, “regardless of frontiers.”

As for that viciousgucci clothes comparison between VOA and Radio Milles Collines, Duguid said this: “Comparing a respected and professional news service to Five Fingers Sprinta group that called for genocide in Rwanda is a baseless and inflammatory accusation…”

Official Contest Rules - Your Faith Story Contest 2010

community@focusonlinecommunities.com — Wed, 26 May 2010 15:34:37 GMT

Participation in the Your Faith Story Contest 2010 (the "Contest") is contingent on your full and unconditional agreement to and acceptance of these Official Rules. The Contest is sponsored by Focus on the Family, 8605 Explorer Drive, Colorado Springs, CO 80920 ("Sponsor").

(1) Contest Period: The Contest is offered only in the continental United States and begins May 19, 2010, and ends August 27, 2010.

(2) Eligibility: Contest is open to all persons who, as of the date of entry, are women eighteen (18) years of age or older ("Contestant"), and reside in the continental U.S. Contestant must be an individual person; group entries are not permitted.

Employees, independent contractors, officers and directors of Sponsor, its affiliates, subsidiaries, advertising, promotion and fulfillment agencies and legal advisors, the judging panel, and the immediate family members and persons living in the same household of such persons, are not eligible to participate in the Contest. Void where prohibited by law.

(3) How to Enter: Entries must be submitted electronically by e-mail to Sponsor at: Yourfamilylivecontest@focusonthefamily.com. Entries should tell the story of Contestant’s faith and should be 500 words or less. All entries must be original. One submission per Contestant. One (1) grand prize winner will after August 27, 2010.

(4) Use of Entry: By entering you agree that Sponsor may use your Entry in any manner and in any media.

(5) Judging: Once each entry is screened for compliance with the entry requirements, it will be judged by a panel of judges ("Panel"), whose decisions are final and binding.

(8) Grand Prize Winner: After August 27, 2010, the grand prize winner will be selected from among eligible entries received. The winner will receive a trip for two to the Women of Faith conference in Denver, CO, September 24 and 25, 2010. Guest must be a female. Round trip coach air travel must originate in the continental U.S. At Sponsor’s discretion, Sponsor will pay for ground transportation to and from the conference. The trip will include hotel for up to two nights, a tour of Focus on the Family, and local ground transportation if needed. The estimated retail value of the prize is $3,000. All federal, state and/or local taxes are Contestant’s sole responsibility. No alternative prize, cash equivalent, or other substitution is permitted except by Sponsor in the event of prize unavailability.

If you are selected as the grand prize winner, you and your guest will be asked to sign and return a Publicity Consent and Release Form and a Liability Release Form. Failure to timely return this information and Release Forms will void prize award, and prize will be awarded to an alternate winner.

If you are selected as the Grand Prize winner and can not attend the Women of Faith conference in Denver in September 2010, you will forfeit the grand prize. An alternate grand prize winner will be selected.

(9) Winner Notification: Winner will be notified within 3 days of selection as a winner, and winner will have 7 days from notification to confirm and accept the prize. Sponsor is not responsible for and shall not be liable for late, lost, misdirected, or unsuccessful efforts to notify you, if you are selected as a winner. If you cannot be contacted or fail to claim the prize, if you do not comply with any term or condition of these Official Rules, if you provide false information to Sponsor, or if you are ineligible, prize may be forfeited and an alternate winner selected.

(10) General Terms and Conditions: Sponsor is not responsible, and shall not be liable, for: (a) telephone, electronic, hardware or software program, network, Internet, or computer malfunctions, failures, or difficulties of any kind; (b) failed, incomplete, partial, garbled, or delayed computer transmissions; (c) any condition caused by events beyond the control of Sponsor that may cause the Contest to be disrupted or corrupted; or (d) any printing or typographical errors in any materials associated with the Contest. You agree that Sponsor’s only obligation is to submit entries from eligible Contestants to the Panel according to the procedures and criteria set forth in these Official Rules, and award the prizes set forth herein to the winners, subject to the terms and conditions herein. You agree that Sponsor’s obligation is fair and adequate consideration for any entry submitted by you, and that you are not entitled to and shall not seek any further compensation.

(11) Promotional Information: By entering the Contest, you agree that Sponsor may send you advertising, promotional, and other informational material. You may opt out of receiving these materials at any time by notification to Sponsor.

(12) NO PURCHASE NECESSARY.

For New and Prospective Parents

community@focusonlinecommunities.com — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 16:33:43 GMT

Tell us your story

Congratulations on your good news! If you have time in this busy season, we'd love to hear your story. By sending it to us, we're assuming that you're giving us permission to share it with other readers; please let us know if you want us to change your names or not publish your story.

Discover what else Focus on the Family has to offer

Focus on the Family helps you as new parents to raise your children according to morals and values grounded in biblical principles. We're here to come alongside you with relevance and grace at each stage of your journey: as you seek to teach your children about God and His beautiful design for the family, protect your family from the harmful influences of culture, and equip your family to make a greater difference in the lives of those around you.

No matter who you are, what you're going through, or what challenges your family may be facing, we're here to help. With practical resources — like our 1-800 Family Help line, counseling, and websites — we're committed to providing trustworthy, biblical guidance and support.

Give us your feedback

Finally, please consider taking a couple of minutes to let us know how you would evaluate your early years of marriage and the role Focus on the Family may (or may not) have played in that path. Take the survey. We're interested to know what we did well, and what we could have done better.

Follow us on Twitter and Facebook

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We pray that the days ahead will be a wonderful time for you as you move into the next chapter of your family.

Easter Coconut Cake Recipe by Tammy Maltby

community@focusonlinecommunities.com — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 17:29:34 GMT

Playing the Blame Game

community@focusonlinecommunities.com — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 21:58:42 GMT

by Marshall Allen

Four-month-old Ashton had his eyes clenched and mouth wide as he screamed. The bawling wouldn't stop and I was getting frantic. The noise was annoying, but I was most concerned about Isaac, my sleeping 2-year-old who I desperately didn't want wakened from his afternoon nap. Naptime is sacred.

"Shhh, shhh, shhh, c'mon boy, pleeeeaaaaase," I bounced and bucked Ashton on my hip. I hummed a tune manically. "Waaaahhh ... Waaaahhh!!!" Ashton was just getting warmed up. My eyes darted about the room, searching for a solution.

That's when I noticed the window was open wide. On an otherwise quiet Saturday, our neighbors were being treated to an all-out scream fest. This hollering wasn't slowing, so I went to close the window. Big mistake. I tugged the cord to raise the Venetian blind so I could reach the window latch, causing a disastrous chain reaction.

The cheap plastic blind snapped, causing my hand to jerk against a box fan that was perched on my desk, which toppled against a 32 oz. plastic MEGA cup that splashed its entire contents — ice water — onto my laptop computer.

"Waaaahhh ... Waaaahhh!!!" Forget the neighbors, now the screams were mine. Ashton and I shrieked in unison, rage uniting father and son. Instinctively, I added choreography and we lurched and spun around the room, incapacitated by anger. I still don't know what Ashton was so mad about. But my computer was fried, my afternoon ruined, and I knew there was only one person to blame — my wife, Sonja.

Don't ask me why I blame Sonja when things go wrong. But at this particular moment, with my beloved about 30 miles away, it seemed completely logical to take my frustration out on her. She shouldn't have allowed me to be in this situation, I thought, in between much wailing and gnashing of teeth — gnashing of tooth, in Ashton's case. It was Sonja's fault because she had gone shopping with her sisters, leaving me with a raging baby and a defective window covering.

I know it makes no sense, but in 10 years of marriage I've often pointed my finger at my wife when a) accidents happen, b) I do something stupid or c) any other time I'm in a foul mood. Often I blame her when I can't find something I need, like my keys. In my mind she's always shuffling things around the house like she's the mistress of a domestic shell game. If I can't find an item it's obviously her fault. Then I find my keys in my bag, pocket or on the counter and realize I'm a fool.

I know I'm not the only guy who plays the blame game. The first recorded instance is virtually as old as sin itself and suggests blaming the wife is in our very DNA. Way back when, in the Garden of Eden, do you remember Adam's reply when God asked if he'd eaten the forbidden fruit?

"The woman you put here with me — she gave me some fruit from the tree and I ate it," Adam said, probably with a lot of conviction. I feel you, Adam! You're a real man's man, in an original sin kinda way. Indeed, blaming the wife may be the second sin committed in the history of humanity. That's quite a legacy, boys. And now, it's been passed to me.

A few days after drenching my laptop, Sonja and I partook in an activity that's cleansed couples throughout the ages — Egyptian ear-candling. For those who don't live in California, or shop at organic food outlets or wear clothing made of hemp, ear candling is a homeopathic method of cleaning the ear canal. I had never tried it, but like every rational person I figured my ear canal needed some work. Naturally, raking a Q-tip over my eardrum seemed a bit abrasive. So we decided to use fire.

Ear-candling is dangerous and requires trust so it's not recommended for newlyweds or children, and especially not for newly married children. It involves one person lying on his side and sticking an 11-inch cone of papery wax, the "candle," into his ear. Then his partner lights the protruding end of the candle on fire. The smoke and heat create a vortex that melts the earwax and sucks it from the inner ear into the cone. Gross? Absolutely. But I couldn't wait to try it. I was imagining the coolness of hearing in the equivalent of Dolby THX. Earwax begone!

Ear candling has its obvious risks, but we'd been married almost a decade so I assumed we were golden. Sometimes, these assumptions can ruin marital bliss. But I ask you, what kind of a marriage do you have if you can't stick a flaming cone into your spouse's ear?

We were eager to begin and I jumped to go first. Sonja gathered towels to protect me from the flame and fiery ash that would be inches above my face, as I lay on the floor on my side. Sonja started placing towels over my head, but I stopped her. Ever the committed sports fan, I wanted to watch Monday Night Football. My interest in the game also clouded my judgment about my apparel. I was wearing sweat pants and a cotton V-neck undershirt.

So there I am, head on a pillow, lying on the floor with a lighted candle sticking out of my ear. The burning waxy cone sounds like a firestorm's penetrated my skull. I'm nervous — especially when Sonja says anxiously that a tower of hot ash is growing as the candle burns toward my face. This is making it hard to pay attention to the game, I note.

Normal ear-candling procedure calls for the assistant to neatly trim the finger of sizzling ash so it falls harmlessly into a bowl of water. However, when Sonja snipped the ash, the scorching residue fell into the gaping neck of my undershirt. Football was suddenly unimportant compared to my searing flesh.

"Ahhhh ... Hot! Hot! Hot!" I hissed. I had the presence of mind not to overreact, because a blazing torch was still protruding from my head. But I felt every point of connection as the blazing ash broke into bits and tumbled in a mini rockslide down my shirt. My flesh smoldered from my shoulder to my armpit and all the way down to my love handle. At this point, the Green Bay Packers could've danced the hokey-pokey in my living room and I wouldn't have noticed.

Sonja apologized profusely and quickly extinguished the flaming candle. I sat up and surveyed the damage. My undershirt was spotted with an archipelago of singed holes and my skin was dotted with blistered burns. I was so angry there was only one logical thing to do, pile guilt on Sonja. I made some comments I now regret; about how she should've been more careful, blah, blah, blah.

But I quickly realized my own culpability in the situation and apologized. Anyone who volunteers to put a flaming candle into his ear, then forgoes protective measures to watch football, doesn't have grounds to complain if there's an accident.

God used these two experiences — dousing my computer and the ear-candling disaster — to reveal to me my tendency to blame Sonja for accidents and my own poor choices. I'm not sure how I got into this habit; I know it's contrary to my wedding vows. I know I didn't stand in front of a minister and 300 people 10 years ago and say, "I promise to love you, protect you and get grouchy when we're lost on a road trip." Maybe couples should start making their vows after they've been married.

Of course I still play the blame game — I'm not a saint. But I catch myself now, and have learned to apologize to Sonja when it happens. In case I ever think I'm clear of this tendency, I can always take off my shirt and observe the faint scars that are still visible on my chest.

The Myth of Balance

community@focusonlinecommunities.com — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 17:09:57 GMT

by Roberto Rivera y Carlo

Y yo no olvido con cuanto afán, mi buen vieja trabajaba
Que día y noche se enfajaba, para conseguir el pan
"Las cosas buenas no están," decía, "pero no me rindo"
Y yo tampoco prescindo, de los días de mi infancia
Aunque perdió su elegancia, la loma del tamarindo

There used to be website called "Boomer Death Watch," that, as the name implies, kept track of deaths among prominent Baby Boomers such as the "Chicago 8" and other Sixties notables. The animus — it's not only fair to call it that, it's the only thing you can call it — wasn't limited to counter-culture icons. As the site's motto went "Because one day they'll all be dead." Yikes! Not just the bad ones; not just those whose "vision" shaped North American culture for the worst but even innocent bystanders like me. (Yes, I'm close to the same age as your parents; no, I don't know why they're so lame.)

I can understand some of the frustration with, and anger at, my self-important and self-indulgent generation. When I see the ads for Ameriprise Financial — you know, the one that mixes pictures of hippies and anti-war marchers with picture of moms and dads with their kids, all accompanied by the Spencer Davis Group's "Gimme, Gimme Some Lovin'" — that talk about the challenge of doing financial planning for a generation as "unique" as mine, I want to puke.

I said understand, not empathize. I'd be empathetic if the people complaining about Boomer hegemony did something besides complain that Boomers get all the attention. For instance, if they seemed to have learned from my cohorts' mistakes and excesses.

Case in point: the "balance" between work and family. A recent Associated Press story, entitled "Generation X and Y Suffer Boomer Angst," began by telling readers about a 27-year- old Chicagoan "loudly proclaiming that people in her generation need to work less than their baby-boomer parents have." She told AP that "no one," by which she presumably meant people her age, "is happy.... Everyone is overworked, overstressed. No one's spending the kind of time that they want with their kids or their spouses or partners."

It's a valid and all-too-common complaint. If, as the piece maintains, members of her cohort are realizing that "having it all" is a "myth," then they have learned something my generation never really did but I have my doubts: when the young Chicagoan tries to explain the reasons for her and her friends' unhappiness, she tells AP that "I think part of that can be attributed to the boomers...." How this might be the case is never made clear. Bad examples? The pressure to match the Boomer's accomplishments?

Others quoted in the piece seem unhappy because Boomers aren't retiring or dying fast enough to let them have "their pieces of the pie" in business, government or even music. Control is important for these folks because they envision themselves as creating "a new workplace that embraces both flexible hours and new technology — improving efficiency and giving workers more time for life off the job."

As someone who benefits from flexible work arrangements, I'm all for these arrangements becoming more common and even normative where possible. At the same time, let me point out two things: first, this idea of a "new workplace" isn't exactly new. The people who gave me the chance to work at home are even older than I am, if such a thing is possible.

Second, anyone who thinks that all, or even most, of what stands between them and "spending the kind of time that they want with their kids or their spouses or partners" is a "new kind of workplace" with a different cohort in charge has fallen for one of our culture's most pervasive and destructive myths: the myth of "balance."

Since calling "balance" a myth — not to mention consistently surrounding it with scare quotes — amounts to fighting words in contemporary American life, let's be clear about what I'm not calling a myth: the conflicts and stresses that arise from the inescapable demands associated with earning what my family calls el pan nuestro de cada dia (our daily bread).

It's likely that if you're reading Boundless you're not caught between the often-conflicting demands of putting bread on the table and being a good parent. Instead, for us, "balance" refers to the attempt to find a happy medium between two sources of personal fulfillment: career and "kids, spouses or partners." It's the attempt to maximize the satisfaction we derive from our jobs — or the things that our jobs enable us to buy — without feeling too guilty about the price our loved ones pay for this satisfaction.

Helping their employees minimize this guilt is the goal of many — no, make that most — of the "family-friendly" (big-time scare quotes) corporate policies we read and hear about: paid parental leave, onsite day care, flexible hours, and — my favorite — "lactation support" programs for new mothers. As David Blankenhorn of the Institute for American Values, among others, has pointed out, the goal of many of these programs is to keep "workers on the job and productive so that family obligations don't interfere with work." Enlightened self-interest tells these employers that the alternative to these policies is losing valuable employees. That's why Blankenhorn calls them "employer-friendly" instead of "family-friendly."

What's more, this "friendliness" often comes at a price: people who take full advantage of flexible work hours or other accommodations will probably find themselves squarely on what's been called the "mommy track," or, in the case of men, permanent cubicle-dweller status. They will be passed over for promotions or at least be promoted less frequently than other, less high-maintenance, employees. The perception will be that the latter are more committed to the company than the former.

I know that this take on corporate motives makes me sound like a character from Syriana but I don't expect our employers, especially publicly-traded companies, whose first duty is to their shareholders, to make our loved ones' well-being their priority: I expect us to make it ours. I expect us to understand what priority, from the Latin prioritas, meaning "first," means.

By definition, only one thing can take precedence over everything else, which is why "balance" is a myth. Eventually, the demands of work will yield to those of family or vice-versa. In the latter case, the yielding will be a more common occurrence than we care to admit to ourselves: a series of business trips, late-night meetings and missed recitals and Little League games whose totality will leave little doubt — least of all to our kids — which was our priority.

The alternative is as easy to see as it is difficult to live: it's embodied by one of my best friends. He's the kind of employee that any sensible employer would covet: way beyond competent, utterly dependable. and a great team leader. For him, professional accomplishments and satisfaction take a back seat to being able to coach his sons' Little League teams. The pleasure he gets from work pales in comparison from what he feels when his only left-handed son (booyah!) strikes out the side. It's not that he isn't aware of the trade-offs he's making or that his abilities are in demand: it's that he knows what's most important.

I know how he feels. When I face God, I will have many sins and failings to account for but one of them won't be that I didn't capisce what mattered most: the greatest Christmas gift (Dec. 25, 1991) any man could hope for, my son David.

That brings me to the Spanish words at the top of the piece. They're from a song, "La Loma de Tamarindo," (Tamarind Hill) about the migration from the Puerto Rican countryside to the factories of New York and Chicago after World War II. Like many such songs, regardless of culture, it's a song of about loss. For me, it's also a song about one particular migrant: a woman who only made it to this country because her cousin won a local lottery and was able to give her the necessary airfare. I can only guess that life, in our sense of personal fulfillment, didn't turn out as she had hoped because she never talked about it: she was too busy making sure life would better for her children. Before dying from ovarian cancer, Perpetua Carlo de Rivera lived long enough to know that her countless sacrifices weren't in vain.

After all she did for me, the least I owe her is to know where my priority lies: her grandson who shares the greatest of all possible birthdays.

Read an excerpt from Allison's book

community@focusonlinecommunities.com — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 22:34:33 GMT

You can read a chapter from Allison's book Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children in the Parenting Challenges area of FocusOnTheFamily.com.

Imagine Your Children

community@focusonlinecommunities.com — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 17:22:53 GMT

by Jonathan Dodson

As a single and as a young husband, I stood in awe of parents. They seemed so grown up, so mature, so together. I recall the passing comment of a mentor and father of five who shared the news of his wife's last pregnancy as "bringing an eternal soul into the world." The spiritual sobriety of his perspective made me marvel at parenthood even more.

From a distance, parenthood can appear as the next step in human maturity — adolescent, college student, young adult, married person, parent. (For some reason, popular perception of empty-nesters doesn't translate to the final step in maturity.) Those without children tend to view those with children as wiser, more responsible human beings.

Are we then to conclude that true maturity comes with parenthood? Hardly. We can all tell stories of the parents who let their kids get away with anything, and who at times seemed more immature than their kids. Furthermore, two kids into fatherhood, I can vouch that there is nothing magically maturing about parenthood.

However, if we are to parent well, some level of maturity is necessary. Perhaps even more important is the willingness for a parent to mature as a person with their kids, a challenge well captured by Dan Allender in his book How Children Raise Parents.¹ Indeed, if we are willing to learn along with our children, parenthood may prove to be a maturing, even transforming experience. On the other hand, disengaged or duty-driven parenting can easily prove to be a paralyzing and heart-hardening experience. Regardless of how you parent, one thing is certain: Raising children will bring its fair share of fear and frustration.

The challenges of parenthood begin before the baby is born! The nine months before birth are a microcosm of the liberties and limitations of parenthood. Sonograms, name selection, baby room shopping, morning sickness, loss of time, money, and sleep all transpire in those few months — serving as an introduction to the diverse joys and pains of parenting. Fear sets in early on. Will the baby be born healthy or at all? How will we financially support another person? What about breast-feeding and diaper-changing? How will my spouse change? What if I screw up my kid? Can I do this?

Depending on how we respond to these questions, fear of failure can result in earnest preparation or personal paralysis.

After the baby is born and the novelty and sleep deprivation wear off, our fears can quickly turn into frustrations. While I trembled at the thought of guiding and providing for our second child before she was born, afterwards I found myself incredibly annoyed and frustrated with Ellie's incessant crying. Pre-birth fears too easily turn into post-partum frustration. As a result, questions begin to cascade. Why won't that baby just shut up? How am I supposed to work on three hours of sleep? Why won't my child just obey me the first time? What happened to my wife/husband? Where did all my free time go? Who am I? How do I respond to that?

The various frustrations encountered in parenting can quickly turn into anger or despair in lament over the loss of past freedoms. We discover just how much pre-parenthood personal freedom we had when we lose sleep, time with our spouses, time to see movies, to have dinner out, to enjoy quiet coffee shop reading and reflection, and time with friends.

Depending on how we respond, frustration over freedoms lost can lead to personal reformation or deep-seated resentment.

How are we to redemptively engage our parental fears and frustrations? How much of our fear and frustration is valid? How much is invalid? How can frustration lead to redemption instead of resentment? In the space that remains, let's explore some of these gut-level questions with the aim of shedding light on what it looks like to parent by faith in the midst of fear and frustration.

Fear of Failure Parenting

In the months leading up the birth of our first child, Owen, something radical happened. All of a sudden, my strolls through bookshops led me not down the usual Theology, Literature and Sociology aisles, but quickly into the Family and Parenting section. Fearful of parental failure, I was willing to learn from anyone. My reading was not limited to the subjects of children and fathers, but even extended to literature on motherhood.

I can remember an afternoon spent at Barnes & Noble, where I scoured the racks for wisdom. Consumed by the fear of failing as a father, I desperately picked up the camo-colored New Dad's Survival Guide: Man-to-Man Advice for First-Time Fathers by Scott Mactavish. I didn't have a clue who Scott was, but I knew I was both a first-timer and in need of survival tips.

Fear jump-started my parental preparation. I began to line my utility belt with as many survival tips as possible. I soon called a weekly meeting for expecting fathers to plow through the emotional, spiritual and practical issues of fatherhood. I frantically looked for post-graduate job placement and began to budget with a passion. Through earnest preparation I sought to stamp out my parental fear.

This is not every parent's response. Other soon-to-be parents encounter personal paralysis when considering the thought of becoming a parent. Feelings and thoughts of failure to meet our children's emotional, social and physical needs converge, sending an arrow of inadequacy and inability straight to the heart. Add to that shot the tremor of being spiritually responsible for an eternal soul and the wincing pain of the financial demands of caring for another family member.

Some of us respond by spending untold hours worrying instead of sleeping, hardening instead of embracing the in-breaking reality of parenthood. We fear that we will repeat our parents' failures, and conclude that somehow we are hard-wired for second-rate parenting. What are we to do with these responses? Is preparation the strong, godly response and paralysis the weak, ungodly response? How should we engage these fears?

You Don't Have What It Takes

John Eldredge would have us believe that, for fathers, the most important question we can ask and answer for ourselves and our sons is "Do I have what it takes?"² He argues that most of us don't realize that we are built for fatherhood and that we need to know, as our sons need to know, that we have what it takes. Although Eldredge is right in pointing out that mothers and fathers have been given the natural equipment to parent, he underestimates the bent motivations we have in parenting. To be sure, Eldredge directs the wounded parent to the healing Christ but only to get us back on track in the task of child affirmation. As a result, his model of parenting can become task-based, neglecting the sinful issues of the parental heart.

The reality is that we really don't have what it takes to parent for the glory of God and the good of our children. Our natural equipment for instruction, discipline, care, and love is in disrepair; we can't consistently and accurately instruct, discipline, care and love our children, even if we have received the love of God in Christ. In dark and honest moments, we will daydream of life without children. Time and again, our children push us to the limits of our love, and we cross the line of selfish anger or embittered depression. We will spank or yell out of spite, not mercy and love. We do not have what it takes to parent our children.

The godly response to our paralyzing fear is not to pat ourselves on our backs and repeat to ourselves that we have what it takes, nor is it to counter our parental limitations with earnest preparation. Instead, we need to redemptively confront our fears. If we respond to fear-motivated preparation and personal paralysis with a you-have-what-it-takes attitude, we bypass the heart, where our fears fester. Though diligent preparation and careful concern can be a godly response to the task of parenting, it is the heart that determines the righteousness of our actions. Related to this fact is the reality that our children see our hearts as well as our actions and act out of their own impure motives. More than success is at stake, our hearts, parent's and child's, are on the table in the privilege of parenting. If we are to parent well, then we will need more than task-based survival tips and emotional pats on the back. We need the gospel to redemptively engage our fears ... and our frustrations.

Frustration and Parenting

Fear isn't the only obstacle we encounter in parenting. Frustration over failures and freedoms lost often haunt us. Of course, we don't always understand this dynamic when we snap at our children. Unlike our son, a sleep-through-the-night poster child, our daughter has taken a cry-through-the-night approach. For a while, this was both her day job and her night job. She was what you might ambiguously refer to as colicky. Needless to say, I have not fared well. More than once I have lost my patience with Ellie's unpleasant, incessant crying.

Consider this scenario. It is evening, after a long day at work. Owen is in bed but Ellie is hungry, so I feed her, wrap her, and put her in the swing in hopes of some silent time to myself. Five minutes later, her blood-curdling cry severs the silence. I swiftly return to her with sucker in hand to plug up the noise. (Oh the sucker, a tease for both parent and child, which only provides temporary and fleeting relief.) Another five minutes go by and out comes the sucker along with the screams, only this time they are louder and shriller. This cycle repeats about twenty times, and I lose it. I huffily run in to the room, swiftly pick up Ellie, and with a couple shakes I angrily reason with her: "Ellie why won't you go to sleep? You have already eaten!" Minutes, if not seconds later, I am beside myself. How could I lose my temper with my six week old baby?

In the same scenario my wife responds differently. Instead of getting angry, she patiently returns again and again, speaking sweet words into our daughter's ear. How does she do it? In loving motherly despair. The next day, she is beside herself in despondency. I receive a call at work. She tells me she just can't do "it" anymore. She tells me she can't escape and asks me who she has become and if I can come home and help. She thinks to herself, "I am a terrible mother."

As our children grow, the scenarios change but the challenges remain somewhat the same. In this challenge, what are we to do with our frustrations? Talking these things through with my wife has been enlightening. She has suggested that, perhaps part of the reason I can get so upset with our helpless six week old, is that I can not fix her crying. All my earnest preparation, my swaddling techniques, and carefully situated suckers fail in soothing my daughter's cry. My response to the frustration is to fix things. But is the problem really that I can not fix my daughter's colic?

The problem is deeper than mister fix-it masculinity. You see, when I am confronted with the fact that I do not have the power to fix my problems, I am forced to recognize that I do not have what it takes. Furthermore, my inability to control my daughter's crying results in less free time, time to do what I want to do. In these moments, my inability to fix the problem and my frustration from lost freedom combine to produce a powder keg of anger.

For my wife, the problem goes deeper than feminine frailty. When she encounters the challenges of parenting, it easy to mistakenly equate lost freedom with loss of identity. Though she is no longer able to carry on all her hobbies and friendships with pre-parenthood potency, she has not lost her identity, but it is being transformed. Her loss of freedom makes her feel trapped. In turn, her trapped feelings associated with motherhood lead to guilt over passionless parenting. She doesn't have what it takes to be a good mother.

Faith and Parenting

In these moments, we are asking another question: "Can I have my own way?"³ Our will is pitted against God's will. In his providence, we have reached a juncture in which personal freedom must give way to parental duty, and we fight it with every fiber of our being. Why? Because there are places in our hearts over which we have hung the teenager's sign, "My Room. Do Not Enter." These are rooms where the dirty laundry of our hearts reeks of selfishness. We want to parent on our terms and when our terms aren't met, we get bitter or despondent.

When our freedoms are removed, our idols are revealed. For some it may be the idolatry of time — I want to do what I want to do. For others, the idolatry of identity — I'm not just a mother! In these heart-wrenching moments, when we sense a loss of freedom, God is bringing us to himself through our children. It is when we find ourselves acting like children, defiantly insisting on our own way, that God wants to meet us. His aim is to show us our sinful rebellion against his way and lead us to repentance and renewal. With the outstretched arms of the Spirit and the Son, the Father calls us away from bitterness and despondency into the happiness of communion with the Trinity. God wants to lead us from frustration into fellowship with him by showing us that we do not have what it takes and that we can not always get our own way. Instead, through the frustrations of parenting, God seeks to magnify his sufficiency by releasing his perfect power and love in and through us to bless us and our children. In those moments of weakness, he wants to give us his strength, knowing that we become true parents when we are truly dependent on him.

How then do we become mature parents, parents who parent redemptively?

Redemptive Parenting

In order to avoid parent-centered parenting, parenting which idolizes our freedoms and fears, mothers and fathers must be displaced from parenting. Instead of taking charge, Christ must take center stage in our parenting. Perhaps the biggest lie we have believed is that our lives are a story about ourselves and that our families exist to serve our needs. The first step in Christ-centered parenting is to repent of parent-centered parenting, of placing ourselves first in our families and in our lives.

Second, rejoice that God has created you to parent. Genesis 1:28 informs us that we were made and blessed in order to parent: "And God blessed them. And God said to them, 'Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth.'" Why fill the earth with children? Genesis 1:26 informs us that Adam and Eve were made in the image of the triune God: "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness...." At the very least, this tells us that our parenting is a part of a grander story, a story whose plotline includes filling the earth with images of God, of his glory. As parents, we have been given the glorious task of participating in the spreading and shaping of the divine image of God's glory on earth, through raising our children.

Third, recognize and receive God's provision for all your parental and personal failures past, present, and future. As the story of Scripture makes plain, our ability to live and parent for God's glory has been damaged by sin, sins of fear and of frustration, which diminish God's glory: "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Rom 3.23). Consider pausing now to repent of making much of yourself in parenting and in life, and receive the restorative forgiveness of God in Christ: "To him (Christ) all the prophets bear witness that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name" (Acts 10:43). If we choose to believe in ourselves, that we have what it takes, then we reject our role in this story told by the prophets, a story of rescue and redemption. By relying on fix-it masculinity or wallowing in feminine frailty, we throw off God's redemptive plan to restore his image in us and insist that we remain on center stage, no matter how strong or pathetic we may look.

Fourth, claim and display the power of God's new creation. As forgiven parents, we are not cleaned up and left powerless to parent. The damaged image of God in us and our children can be restored and renewed to display the glory of Christ as his new creation. Those who believe in Jesus have "put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator" (Col 3:10). By experiencing this image renewal, we align ourselves with the redemptive story, participating in the grace of God for the glory of God. Thus, the Spirit of God empowers us to live and parent like God in Christ. The power of this image-renewing work, in turn, produces God-centered parents who patiently and redemptively raise their children to keep Jesus on center stage in their own lives.

This side of the new creation, fear and frustration will never entirely disappear from our hearts. Redemption is a project. In fact, fears and frustrations will undoubtedly cycle in and out, manifesting themselves differently depending on what stage of life our children are in. However, by confessing our fears and frustrations and repenting of our pride and despondency, we can live in the richness of God's forgiveness and the power of his new creation, displaying the beauty of God's redemptive love for us and our children. In turn, we will honor our heavenly Father and help our children learn to struggle well with their own fears and frustrations. By diverting our eyes from fears and freedoms and turning them to all that God is for us in Jesus through the Spirit, we will gain more strength and freedom, joy and peace than ten thousand babysitters could ever offer!

* * *

NOTES

Dan Allender, How Children Raise Parents: The Art of Listening to Your Family (Colorado Springs: WaterBrook Press, 2003).
John Eldredge, You Have What It Takes: What Every Father Needs to Hear (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2004).
This is second of two diagnostic questions proposed by Dan Allender. His first question is: "Am I loved?" This question gives a biblical twist to Eldredge's man-centered question: "Do I have what it takes?" In How Children Raise Parents, Allender charts the four different ways we can answer this combinations of questions, pointing out that only answers that provide a biblical path to parenting — "Yes you are loved, and no, you may not have your own way."

"When You Marry an Enabler: A Note from a Step Dad" by Kevin Bottke

community@focusonlinecommunities.com — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 21:06:03 GMT

It’s never easy to blend families. It takes a concerted effort to build positive relationships with step-children and step-siblings. When the children in blended families are young, the transition to adjust to a new parent can be less stressful when everyone has the same parenting goal—to raise healthy, happy and well-adjusted kids. However, what happens if the children involved are not young? What happens if the children involved are adults? And, taking this one step further, what happens if the children involved are dysfunctional adults who have been raised by a chronic enabler? What happens when patterns of negative behavior and equally negative responses have been indelibly forged between parent and child?

I’ll tell you what happens. Chaos happens. One crisis after another happens. Pain and heartache happens. Trust me, I know.

Thirteen years ago, Allison and I married. Her son was already an adult. In fact, he walked her down the aisle. I barely knew Christopher at that time. He had acted irresponsible at the wedding, but I didn’t think much about it, discounting it as acceptable considering his mother was marrying someone he didn’t know very well. At the time, there appeared to be a strong mother and son relationship. I could tell that my wife loved her son very much—that she wanted the best for him.

However, as time went on I could see all types of negative behavior from Christopher that I felt was unacceptable. I come form a very large family where we were always held accountable for our actions, whether they were good, bad or indifferent. I grew up living and working on the family farm. Having extended family around was the norm. We were far from perfect, but we worked hard, played hard, and went to church on Sunday. I don’t recall a time in my life when I didn’t believe in God.

Allison, however, was raised quite the opposite. She was a child of divorce, raised by a single mother in the projects of Cleveland. She had grown up without faith, experiencing devastating trials and tribulations that altered the course of her life. She was sixteen when she gave birth to Christopher, vowing to be the best mother she could be. Her intentions were honorable. However, her parenting skills were nil. With her emotional and psychological wounds and a total void in any spiritual foundation, Allison was destined for disaster. By the time she came to the end of her road and made a U-Turn toward God, her son was eighteen and firmly entrenched in a world of drugs, alcohol, crime, and sin.

Throughout the early years of our marriage, I began to see repetitive negative behavior in their relationship. Chris would get in trouble and Allison would bail him out. Chris needed money and Allison would lend it. Chris needed help to get settled into yet another apartment and Allison would help furnish the place and sometimes even clean it for him. When he reached the end of the line and wanted to get clean—something that happened every few years—she’d find a way to pay for treatment. Around and around the gerbil wheel turned. It was in insane way to live.

I can now understand what often sent Allison into rescue mode where her own feelings of guilt and blame. She blamed herself for her son’s lot in life because of the poor parenting choices she had made. She made excuses for him, justified his behavior, and often shielded him from the consequences of his actions. She believed his excuses and accepted his lies. She had confused enabling with helping.

I could see what Allison was doing wrong. Yet every time I said something it resulted in a bitter argument. Every time I tried to draw a line in the sand it was met with resistance. Allison was unable to see how her pattern of enabling allowed her son to continue his own negative behavior. Quite frankly, at the time I didn’t have it all figured out either. I am not able to see this clearly only through retrospective wisdom. When we were living in the ongoing drama and chaos that comprised Christopher’s life, I didn’t always respond in a positive manner. Often, in my desire to help my step-son turn his life around, and to make my wife happy, I sometimes fell into my own enabling patters. I went out on a limb more than a few times trying to help Christopher to help himself. I was often at wits end. I didn’t know quite what to do to stop the insanity that had become our life.

I wish I could say that I lovingly helped my wife to become strong in being able to define her boundaries with her adult child. I wish I could say that together we embarked on a journey to gain sanity in an insane situation. I wish I could say a great many things that were often left unsaid. The fact is, my wife made the difficult choice on her own to change her behavior and her responses to her son. I couldn’t change her—she had to change herself. However, the U-turn in Allison’s enabling journey came partly as a result of a major melt-down I had in my life after a particularly devastating episode with Christopher.

Allison has painted a vivid picture in her book of what it was like for her that cold January evening when the SWAT team raided her son’s home. Christopher had been taken to jail before we arrived. Once again, Allison felt compelled to pick up the pieces. I felt compelled to help my wife. Yet, deep inside my belly a festering anger brewed that would soon erupt as verbal volcanic fire—spewing out vile words, accusations and ultimatums the likes of which my wife had never before heard—at least not from me. In her book, she spared readers my ugly response. I share it with you now.

A few weeks before, my sons had joined me at Christopher’s to help build a ramp on the back stairs so Chris could navigate his wheelchair in and out of the house. He’d had an accident on his motorcycle and had been critically injured. At that time, Allison had prepared the home for his return, making it warm, comfortable, clean, and inviting. Now, it looked like a bomb had exploded inside.

The night was cold and dark. My adult children had come from their homes to help us load up Christopher’s possessions so they wouldn’t be stolen. We had been told that Christ would most likely be in jail for quite a long time. Below zero weather made the frequent trips from his house to our truck all the more uncomfortable. I boarded up broken doors and windows while fuming inside.

On our way home later that night, I screamed and yelled at my wife. I felt the veins popping out on my neck. I cursed her son and I cursed her, saying that never again would I get involved in Christopher’s life. I’d had enough and this was it. I regurgitated countless incidents in the past where she made excuses for him, adding insult to injury. I poured salt on the open would of her heart.

I hurt my wife deeply that night. I’m not proud of that. Yes, for me, for us, I had to get to that place of utter exhaustion with the insanity and willingly had it over to God.

I wish I knew then what I know now. I’d have responded to the choices my wife was making in a much different manner. I’d have defined my boundaries more clearly at the start. We serve no useful purpose when we jump on someone else’s bandwagon and perpetuate negative behavior in order to keep the peace—in order to make someone happy.

If you love someone who is an enabler you can’t change them. But you can change yourself. I had to clearly state my boundaries. I had to declare that enough was enough. I had to reach the end of myself before my wife was able to see the part she played in the ongoing chaos and crisis that was her son’s life.

I was lucky. I was blessed. Allison was able to choose our marriage above the negative behavior and choices of her adult child. She began slowly to separate herself from the life of her son. She began to develop what we now know as the 6 Steps to SANITY. It wasn’t easy. I know her heart ached. Yet from the ashes of that despair a book was born that has become a powerful resource for parents and grandparents around the world. Allison walked the painful journey and came out on the other side a better person. A stronger person. A more balanced person. She had found peace and joy in the pain of change. Our marriage survived. Many don’t.

And, through it all, Christopher has started a new journey. He is drug free. His faith has grown stronger, his anger has dissipated, and his ability to accept the consequences for his actions is making him the kind of man God wants him to be. I would imagine his growing sense of self-respect, even as he serves his time in prison, is something that makes him stand taller.

Tough love isn’t easy—that’s why it’s tough. However, in some instances the only way for hope and healing to take place will be to walk through the refining fire of pain. If you follow the 6 Steps to SANITY my wife has outlined in her book, I guarantee you things will change. It won’t always feel good. You’ll most likely see a lot of dark places before the light of healing shines through. But hang in there. Don’t give up. Let God do what God does best. Let God restore your life. God never said it would be easy. But He does tell us we don’t have to be alone.

Are You an Enabling Parent? by Allison Bottke

community@focusonlinecommunities.com — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 21:03:37 GMT

Following are a few questions that might help you determine the difference between helping and enabling an adult child.

Have you repeatedly loaned your adult child money, which has seldom, if ever, been repaid?
Have you paid for education and/or job training in more than one field?
Have you finished a job or project that he failed to complete himself because it was easier than arguing with him?
Have you paid bills he was supposed to have paid himself?
Have you accepted part of the blame for his addictions or behavior?
Have you avoided talking about negative issues because you feared his response?
Have you bailed him out of jail or paid for his legal fees?
Have you given him “one more chance” and then another and another?
Have you ever returned home at lunchtime (or called) and found him still in bed sleeping?
Have you wondered how he gets money to buy cigarettes, video games, new clothes, and such but can’t afford to pay his own bills?
Have you ever “called in sick” for your child, lying about his symptoms to his boss?
Have you ever threatened to throw him out but didn’t?
Have you begun to feel that you’ve reached the end of your rope?
Have you begun to hate both your child and yourself for the state in which you live?
Have you begun to worry that the financial burden is more than you can bear?
Have you begun to feel that your marriage is in jeopardy because of the situation?
Have you noticed growing resentment in other family members because of your child?
Have you noticed that others are uncomfortable around you when this issue arises?
Have you noticed an increase in profanity, violence, and/or other unacceptable behavior from your adult child?
Have you noticed that things are missing from your home, including money, valuables, and other personal property?

If you answered yes to several of these questions, changes are that at some point in time you have enabled your adult child to avoid his own responsibilities and to escape the consequences of his actions. Rather than helping him grow into a productive and responsible adult, you have made it easier for him to become even more dependent and irresponsible. If you answered yes to most or all of these questions, you have not only been an enabler, but you have probably become a major contributor to the problem. It’s time to stop.