I remember visiting my grandmothers when I was a child, sometimes just a day, sometimes a weekend, and once or twice a whole week after we moved away.  It was usually summer and neither of them had air conditioners, and though I know it was as hot as it is nowadays, I don’t remember it.  I sat on their front porches much of the day, the swing making its own breeze as I dangled my bare feet over the cool, smooth, gray-painted plank floor.  One porch was out in the country next to a grove of oranges and kumquats with horses grazing in the pasture behind it.  The other was in the middle of town, its steps fronting on Main Street, and we would watch people go by as we hid in the cool shade behind a morning glory vine growing up and across the porch columns and over the roof.

            My grandmothers never tired of talking to me, answering every question I asked, telling stories of “the olden days” that fascinated me because they seemed so foreign to my life.  I couldn’t imagine a house with no electricity and no running water.  I couldn’t imagine life with no television set droning on in the background. 

            I enjoyed those times with my parents too, their stories of playing without real toys, Christmases that brought an orange and some nuts and maybe a little hard candy in a stocking, and washing clothes with a wringer washer.  I remember my mother telling about her grandmother, a woman who rose before light to make a breakfast of pork chops, eggs, grits, gravy, and biscuits every morning while the men were out doing the first chores, a meal filling enough to last them through a day of hard farm work in southern Georgia. 

            My own boys liked to ask about our childhoods while we sat shucking corn every summer.  Silking was their job, tedious work that invited a lot of talking and listening just to keep yourself going until it was done.   Their dad grew up on the side of a hill in the Ozarks in an old stone house without running water, only bare light bulbs in each room, and a bucket of drinking water in the kitchen on which his mother would sometimes have to break a layer of ice on a cold winter morning.  He could tell stories about milking cows before school at the age of 6, a small school where two grades sat in each class, about pushing his bed up against the chimney in the unfinished attic to stay warm, and taking baths on the back porch in the summer.

            Sharing these things is important.  This is the way one generation connects to the next.  Knowing where we came from answers many of the natural longings we all have, and helps us to find meaning in our lives.  I worry about the children now, who scarcely have any time with their parents at all, much less enough time for stories about their pasts and the questions that should instantly follow.  It also leads to questions and stories about more important things, and makes them far more willing to listen to you when it counts.

            God has always expected his people to make time to talk to their children.

            And when in time to come your son asks you, 'What does this mean?' you shall say to him, 'By a strong hand the LORD brought us out of Egypt, from the house of slavery. For when Pharaoh stubbornly refused to let us go, the LORD killed all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both the firstborn of man and the firstborn of animals. Therefore I sacrifice to the LORD all the males that first open the womb, but all the firstborn of my sons I redeem.' It shall be as a mark on your hand or frontlets between your eyes, for by a strong hand the LORD brought us out of Egypt." Ex 13:14-16.

            And Joshua said to them, "Pass on before the ark of the LORD your God into the midst of the Jordan, and take up each of you a stone upon his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the people of Israel, that this may be a sign among you. When your children ask in time to come, 'What do those stones mean to you?' then you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it passed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. So these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial forever." Josh 4:5-7.

            When your son asks you in time to come, 'What is the meaning of the testimonies and the statutes and the rules that the LORD our God has commanded you?' then you shall say to your son, 'We were Pharaoh's slaves in Egypt. And the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand. Deut 6:20-21.

            What happens when a generation arises that doesn’t know these things? And also all that generation were gathered unto their fathers: and there arose another generation after them, that knew not Jehovah, nor yet the work which he had wrought for Israel. And the children of Israel did that which was evil in the sight of Jehovah, Judg 2:10,11.

            That’s why this is so important.  Talk to your children today, or your grandchildren, or even your neighbor’s children.  Make a connection to them that will bring them closer to you and through that, closer to God.  If you think you don’t have the time, then give something up.  Providing them a physical inheritance isn’t nearly as important as providing them a spiritual one.

            Find yourself a “front porch” and make use of it before it’s too late.
 
Telling to the generation to come the praises of Jehovah, And his strength, and his wondrous works that he has done. That the generation to come might know, even the children that should be born; Who should arise and tell it to their children, That they might set their hope in God, And not forget the works of God, But keep his commandments, Psalm 78:4,6,7.
 
Dene Ward

In Florida “winter” means very little, but a year or so ago we had a different sort of winter—long cold spells with lows below freezing and highs only in the 40s, and frosts as late as April.  Snow fell in the panhandle and in the north central peninsula.  Usually we are sorry to see the heat return, but that year we were longing for it.

            The spring was different too.  The azaleas bloomed two months later, and all at the same time, so profusely you couldn’t even see the branches.  The blueberries had more fruit on them than any time in the five years past.  The hostas not only came up again but multiplied, sending up four plants where each one plant sat the year before.  The spring wildflowers were beautiful, turning fields first into blankets of blue and lavender, then red and maroon, and finally pink and white.  The oak pollen fell so thickly the lawn looked like wall to wall brown carpeting.  And the garden produced better than it had in years.

            I wondered, could one thing have to do with the other?  Could a long, hard winter be the cause of good crops and beautiful flowers in the spring?

            And they arrested [Peter and John] and put them in custody until the next day because it was already evening.  But many of those who heard the word believed and the number of men came to about five thousand, Acts 4:3,4.  That is not the only case in the New Testament where rapid growth of the kingdom followed hard on the heels of persecution.  A long hard winter of trial always seemed to make for a springtime of growth among God’s people. 

            Then there is the personal aspect.  I have seen so many times how a personal trial has led to spiritual growth in a Christian.  I have experienced it myself.  Something about trial inures us to the pains that might otherwise cost us our souls.  We grow stronger little by little, gradually learning the lessons of faith, endurance and strength in the service of God.

            That may be why I cringe when I see a young mother turn every little scrape on the knee or cut on the finger into a life-threatening crisis worthy of the loudest wails, instead of helping her child learn to laugh it off.  I have seen too many of those children grow into men and women who complain about everything that does not go their way.   If it’s okay to whine and cry like the world is ending when you fall and skin your knees, why isn’t it okay to scream at other drivers who get in your way?  If it’s okay to pout and mope when you don’t get to play your favorite video game, why isn’t it okay to complain long and loud when the boss asks you to work overtime?  If it’s okay to pitch a fit when some mean adult tells you to straighten up, why isn’t it okay to stand in the parking lot complaining about the church, the preachers, the elders, and anyone else who doesn’t see things your way?

            God needs people who are strong, who can take pain and suffering for His sake, who understand that their way doesn’t really matter if it is not His way, and that the good of the kingdom and its mission may have nothing to do with them having an easy, perfect life here in this world, but everything to do with a perfect life in the next. 

            Just as with everything else, our culture is affecting us.  The strong silent type who can take the worst the world has to offer and keep going is no longer the hero.  Instead we reward jerks and boors and idolize intemperance.  Prodigality and lavish lifestyles are our measure of success; striking back is our measure of character, and throwing tantrums is our measure of strength. 

            I see a day coming when the church will once again be in the middle of a long, hard winter of persecution.  The way we are going we may not survive it at all, let alone have a bountiful spring, because trials and persecution only work to build strength when you learn from them.  They only produce character when you have the toughness to take the bad with the good without whining about it.

            What kind of spring will you have next year?
 
And not only so but we rejoice in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation works steadfastness; and steadfastness approvedness; and approvedness hope; and hope puts not to shame, because the love of God has been shed abroad in our hearts through the Holy Spirit which was given unto us,  Rom 5:3-5.
 
Dene Ward

On May 9, 1914, President Woodrow Wilson proclaimed the second Sunday in May to be Mother’s Day, "as a public expression of love and reverence for the mothers of our country."  I wonder what he would make of the way some folks view that day today.
          
            Last week I read two articles, each in a different magazine, about how to celebrate Mother’s Day all month long.

            The first was “Thirty-One Ways to Indulge Yourself,” a day by day guide through the month of May, “because no one ever takes care of you.”  I read through the calendar, at first smiling and sighing a little, but gradually growing more and more perturbed.  The list included things like, “Hire a handyman for a day to do all those chores your husband never gets to.”  “Go for a massage, at least a full half-hour appointment.”  “Get a pedicure and buy at least two new colors of nail polish.”  “Buy yourself a new piece of jewelry.”  I added up the entire list—readers were encouraged to do it all—and even estimating low (like costume jewelry instead of the real thing), I came up with a total of nearly $1000.00.

            A thousand dollars in one month would have made a mortgage payment, bought the groceries, AND paid the gasoline and electric bills when my children were still at home. 

            I am a mother--I understand that, as a general rule, mothers are overworked.  I tell every young couple that they should realize from the get-go that every young mother is always tired from the double whammy of pregnancy and delivery, followed by the constant care of a little person who does not understand schedules yet, and every young father always feels stressed from the realization that he is now responsible not only for another body, but as spiritual leader of the home, another soul as well.  In addition he is constantly bewildered by his young wife’s raging hormones, hormones she herself is disconcerted by and trying to control.  This is the nature of the job you have taken upon yourselves.  The whole process can be overwhelming.  But no one has the right to bankrupt her family because she is feeling weary. 

            The other magazine article was deceptively similar.  However, the words “almost free” and “for real moms” were also in the title.  Rather than 31 items laid out on a calendar, one for every day of the month, it was a list of 23 to choose from.  Evidently this writer understood that “real moms” have neither the time nor money to play every day.  What did they include?  “Free up the driveway and create some elaborate chalk art with your children.”  “Catch fireflies, minnows, or other tinies in a clean jar; take a good long look and maybe a photo or two, then let them go.”  “Declare a spa day with your kids, sipping smoothies by the (wading) pool, and giving each other manis and pedis.”  “Draw a comic book together, then make copies so the kids can share them with their friends.”  Are you noticing a difference here?

            Now let me add this bit of information to the mix.  One article was in Parenting.  The other was in a quarterly publication put out for customers of the grocery chain Lucas worked for at the time.  This is obvious, right?  The “experts” understand that young parents first, live on a budget, and second, need encouragement and suggestions for how to spend more “quality” time (I hate that phrase!) with their children, teaching them such things as core values and priorities, and the other magazine was interested in boosting retail sales during a sagging economy.  Wrong.  Parenting is the magazine suggesting that all young mothers go out and spend a good chunk of the family’s income pampering themselves for a solid month.  I am actually proud of Lucas’s company.  If I still had children at home, we would have probably done quite a few of the things they suggested.  The total cost for the whole list was about $10, and it also included some volunteer work.

            Now is it any wonder that elders and preachers regularly warn the church about non-Christian counselors, therapists, and mentors?  Is it any wonder that the average family is falling apart at the seams and couples are deep in debt?  Can you understand why this is also affecting the church?

            Parenting is a commitment just as much as Christianity is.  God has entrusted precious souls to you, and He expects them returned in good shape, better in fact than when He gave them to you.  A mother, or father for that matter, who folds when it requires sacrifice—major sacrifice—is not worthy of the name.

            When you become a parent, it is surprising how fast the feelings overwhelm you.  Love for your child is not just strong, it is fierce.  At least it should be.  It is exactly that fierceness that keeps you going when you lose sleep, when your body aches, and when your heart breaks because of the trials of parenting.  Nothing in this world is worth losing your child or his soul.  That is what the so-called experts need to be teaching us these days.  We already have enough selfish people out there who want the title without doing the job.
 
Can a woman forget her sucking child that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb?…As a father pities his children, so Jehovah pities those who fear him…If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your father who is in Heaven, give good things to those that ask him, Isa 49:15; Psalm 103:13; Matt 7:11.
 
Dene Ward

You know the story so I won’t go into much detail here.  Pharaoh had ordered the Hebrew baby boys killed and one mother had enough faith to put her infant in a lovingly woven and waterproofed basket in the Nile River.  Pharaoh’s daughter came to the river to bathe and found him, and his alert and very smart big sister offered to get him a Hebrew nurse—one who just happened to be his mother.
 
           And so Moses was raised by two mothers.  Jochebed kept him close to her those first years, probably as many as five to eight, before she weaned him.  But nursing was not all she did.  She taught him who he was, who his people were, and who his God was.  She did an amazing job.  In those few years she made him strong enough to stand against the temptations of wealth the like of which we have probably never seen.  And that wealth was not just contrasted with poverty, but with some of the most oppressive slavery imaginable. 

            After that Moses lived in the palace with his “foster” mother for thirty years or more.  She undoubtedly lavished him with luxury and provided him with one of the best secular educations of the time.  Just look at the pyramids if you think those people were ignorant.  He became so much an Egyptian that he even looked like one (Ex 2:19).

            So here is our point today:  Which mother am I?  Do I check on their schoolwork, but never make sure their Bible lessons are done?  Do I even know if they have their lesson book and Bible with them when we leave the house Sunday morning?  Do I teach them how to make a budget and live within their means, but never teach them how to make time for prayer and Bible study?  Do I make sure they get to school but actually give them a choice about whether they go to church or not?  Do I teach them the social etiquette of what to wear at which occasion but never teach them about modesty?  Do I teach them the Bill of Rights but never talk about giving up those rights for the sake of the gospel and peoples’ souls?  Do I teach them to save for their financial security but never teach how to keep their souls secure?

            Your child knows what you think is most important.  He will take his cue from you.  Are you a Pharaoh’s daughter or a Jochebed?
 
By faith Moses, when he was grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter; choosing rather to share ill treatment with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; accounting the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt: for he looked unto the recompense of reward. Heb 11:24-26
 
Dene Ward

It must be a Southern thing.  We have a tendency to call the people we love after food—honey, honey pie, honey bun, and honey bunch; sweetie, sweet pea, and sweetie pie; muffin, dumplin’ and punkin’, baby cakes and cupcake, sugar and sugar plum.

            Speaking of sugar, that’s my favorite term for hugs and kisses from little ones.  Whenever a child is in my lap, I will kiss the top of his head every 15 seconds or so and not even realize it.   My own children probably have indentations there from several thousand kisses a year, just counting church time.  My grandchildren are learning it now.  And they love it.  I remember kissing Silas’s cheek once when he was two and having him run to his mama to tell her, “Grandma got sugar!” with a big grin on his face.

            Little Judah especially loves the sugar game.  The last time we were together after I had leaned over and gotten some “neck sugar” and “cheek sugar,” he grabbed his buddies and started kissing them.  First Tiger, then Marshall, and finally he even balled up a wad of blankie and gave it a kiss.  “Are you getting sugar?” I asked, and he smiled his contented little bashful smile and nodded his head yes.

            Children revel in the knowledge that they are loved.  It feeds a healthy self-esteem and gives them the feelings of security needed when they are out there trying things out and learning about their world.  Failure doesn’t matter when you are loved.

            And that is why a patently obvious love is absolutely essential to discipline.  If you are the kind of parent you ought to be—setting boundaries and punishing inappropriate behavior from early on—your child needs to know that you love him more than life itself.  He needs to hear those words and feel the warmth in your voice and your arms and your heart.  Then it won’t matter that you punished him yesterday.  He will know you love him and will try even harder to please you.

            It isn’t all hugs and kisses.  The older they get, the less that works.  But you can still show it with words of appreciation, pride, and approval.  Have you ever told your children how much it means to you when they behave in public?  How wonderful it is that you don’t have to worry what they might do in someone else’s home?  What a special gift it is in the middle of a stressful situation to know they are one thing you don’t have to worry about, that you can take them anywhere any time and they won’t act up, that it makes you want them with you even more?  Do you think that saying those things might help them behave a little better?

            If all they hear are complaints, growls, screams, and great heaving sighs of frustration and anger, all of them hurled in their direction, what do you think they will think about your feelings toward them?  Even when they are very young, they can feel the tensions.  Even when they do not understand the words, they will know something isn’t quite right.  And they will always think it’s their fault and that’s why you don’t love them.  Even when it’s your fault for not having disciplined them correctly or soon enough.  Three or four hugs will get them past a deserved and justified spanking.  It will take thirty to undo the hurt of an angry, sarcastic parent.

            The last time Silas was with us I told him how proud I was of him, the way he took his medicine without fuss, the way he sat still in church and behaved in Bible class, the way he always brushed and flossed his teeth without having to be told.  I told him how proud I was of how he took care of his little brother.  He looked up at me the whole time, his attention never wavering, with his eyes shining and a big smile on his face. 

           “I love you, Grandma,” he said.
           
           And of course, I got some sugar too. 
 
As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him…and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, Ps 103:13; Titus 2:4.
 
Dene Ward

Maybe this is one of those urban legends that everyone has heard from someone.  I am really not certain, but Keith’s mother once told us about a young woman who began attending services with them with her three young children, the oldest about 6.  She arrived just on time and left quickly.  But unlike many of those types, she was always there, her children knew the basic Bible stories, and she herself was attentive to both class and sermon.  In fact her keeping to herself seemed to be more a product of embarrassment than anything else.
 
           My mother-in-law, astute observer that she was, had noticed something.  The children were always neat, clean, and combed except for one thing—their clothes were always wrinkled.  This was back before the day of permanent press and polyester.  There is nothing quite as wrinkled as old-fashioned cotton—except maybe wrinkled linen—which was way beyond this woman’s means.

            I forget now how she managed to ask.  Maybe it was the offer of an iron, which I know she was generous enough to do.  Knowing my mother-in-law though, she probably just came out and asked.  However she did it, she got an answer.

            The woman’s husband was not a Christian.  He not only refused to attend services with her, he refused to get up and help her get the children ready.  So every week after their Saturday evening bath, she dressed them for church and then put them to bed.  The next morning it was easier to get the three tykes up and fed and herself dressed for church.

            After all these years, I’ve heard nearly every excuse in the world for missing Bible classes or the morning services altogether.  This young woman could have easily pulled two or three off the list and used them.  So why didn’t she?  I can think of three good reasons.

            First, she loved the Lord.  Nothing and no one was going to come between her and her Savior.  She knew the perils of allowing excuses to keep her away from the spiritual nutrition her soul needed, and she was not so arrogant as to think she could feed herself with no help at all.  “I can have a relationship with God without the church,” I have heard more times than I can count.  She knew better.

            And because she had her first priority correct, the others fell right in line.  She loved her children, but more than that she loved her children’s souls.  She had to combat not only the usual onslaught of the world, but the huge impact of a father’s bad example.  She was still in her early 20s so she had probably married quite young, too young to really understand the challenges of this “mixed” marriage, maybe even so naïve that she thought “love would conquer all” and he would change easily.  Now she knew better, but she was more than ever determined to save her children.

            And despite it all, she loved her husband and his soul too.  She knew that any little chink her armor would allow him the rationale he needed to remain apathetic to her faith.  She understood Peter’s command in 1 Pet 3:1,2,  Likewise, wives, be subject to your own husbands, so that even if some do not obey the word, they may be won without a word by the conduct of their wives, when they see your respectful and pure conduct.  The more he resisted, the stronger she needed to be, and if taking her children to church in wrinkled clothes did the trick, then that’s what she would do.

            This young woman shows us all that excuses can be overcome by pure will.  Certainly we are not talking about the truly old, ill, and otherwise unable to go out either regularly or on occasion when there is truly a “bad day.”  We are talking about people who allow a little, or even a lot of trouble to become too much trouble to serve God.  I know many who work around the hurdles and snags that Satan throws in our paths.  It costs them time, money, and a whole lot of extra energy, but they have their priorities straight.  They know who comes first, and they understand that our modern “sacrifices” are an insult to the word. 

If finding excuses comes easily for me, maybe I need to consider wearing some wrinkled clothes.
 
And when one of them that sat at meat with him heard these things, he said unto him, Blessed is he that shall eat bread in the kingdom of God. But he said unto him, A certain man made a great supper; and he bade many: and he sent forth his servant at supper time to say to them that were bidden, Come; for all things are now ready. And they all with one consent began to make excuse…And the servant came, and told his lord these things. Then the master of the house being angry said to his servant, Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in hither the poor and maimed and blind and lame.  And the servant said, Lord, what thou didst command is done, and yet there is room.  And the lord said unto the servant, Go out into the highways and hedges, and constrain them to come in, that my house may be filled.  For I say unto you, that none of those men that were bidden shall taste of my supper.  Luke 14:15-24.
 
Dene Ward
 

“And you, son of man, set your face against the daughters of your people, who prophesy out of their own hearts. Prophesy against them and say, Thus says the Lord GOD: Woe to the women who sew magic bands upon all wrists, and make veils for the heads of persons of every stature, in the hunt for souls! Will you hunt down souls belonging to my people and keep your own souls alive? You have profaned me among my people for handfuls of barley and for pieces of bread, putting to death souls who should not die and keeping alive souls who should not live, by your lying to my people, who listen to lies. “Therefore thus says the Lord GOD: Behold, I am against your magic bands with which you hunt the souls like birds, and I will tear them from your arms, and I will let the souls whom you hunt go free, the souls like birds. Your veils also I will tear off and deliver my people out of your hand, and they shall be no more in your hand as prey, and you shall know that I am the LORD. Because you have disheartened the righteous falsely, although I have not grieved him, and you have encouraged the wicked, that he should not turn from his evil way to save his life, therefore you shall no more see false visions nor practice divination. I will deliver my people out of your hand. And you shall know that I am the LORD,” Ezek 13:17-23.

            This oracle has caused a lot of consternation among scholars.  Many of its details are unfathomable beyond educated guesses, and some of them not so educated.  Suffice it to say, these false prophetesses use pagan methods of some sort to deceive people into believing them.  And by their devious methods they “hunt souls.”  Souls who “should not die” die, and souls who “should not live” live.  They are as “prey” in the hands of these women.  In short, these women are master manipulators, and women are oh, so good at it.

            If you haven’t seen that in your lifetime, you are either unobservant or very young.  Even while claiming submission, women can get exactly what they want with the crook of a finger.  I’ve seen “Mama’s boys” tied to their mothers’ apron strings, husbands actually afraid of their wives, and preachers taken down a peg by a loud woman right on the church house steps.  Sometimes there isn’t even a half-baked reason for it; it’s simply women who enjoy exercising their power over others, while at the same time batting their eyelashes and saying, “What?  Little ol’ me?”

            No one should be walking on eggshells around me.  No one should live in fear of my reaction to something they do or say.  Yet I have seen young brides give in to things they did not want on their wedding days just to avoid “hurting” someone—someone who should have asked a bride what SHE wanted instead of just up and doing and expecting it to be accepted gratefully, or someone who simply insisted that she knew best.  Sometimes, often in fact, it is even a member of the family.

I have seen daughters-in-law practically groveling for a little acceptance from mothers-in-law who were disappointed in their sons’ choices and made it obvious.

I have seen grandmothers pitting grandchildren against one another for her affection. 

And all this is as old as the women in the Bible who did the same—Delilah, Jezebel, Athaliah, and Herodias, among others.  Clearly we have a problem with this, ladies, and it’s time we faced up to it and cleaned up our acts.

We may not be false prophetesses out there to “hunt souls,” but we are certainly false wives, mothers, and grandmothers when we have ulterior motives to our actions.  If I “dishearten” my husband with nagging, with catty responses, with complaints, I am not the wife “who does him good and not evil all the days of his life.”  If I push my children with guilt trips and innuendo, I am not the mother who “opens her mouth with wisdom.”  If I am the woman in the church who is so quick to tell everyone what they need to be doing for her, and in exactly what way or I’ll leave, I am not the servant of the church the apostles so often commend.  If I have to stoop to manipulation in order to be content with who I am, I am not the woman for whom “strength and dignity are her clothing.”

Submission does not act this way.  Respect does not.  Certainly, love doesn’t. 
 
The wisest of women builds her house, but folly with her own hands tears it down. Whoever walks in uprightness fears the LORD, but he [or she] who is devious in his/her ways despises him, Prov 14:1-2.
 
Dene Ward

Keith and I teach a class called Preparation for Marriage and Parenting.  Below are a few comments we throw in during these classes that are not in the lesson book we compiled, but which probably ought to be.  For what they are worth…
 
            Headship is not about getting to do whatever you want to do.  It is about carefully considering the needs of the entire family and doing what is best for them, whether it is what you want to do or not.
            Any woman who has difficulties with subjection has difficulties with being a Christian.  Submission is what being a disciple of Christ is all about.
            A man who makes subjection difficult for his wife might as well get himself sized for a millstone.
            There are many different ways to handle problems in a marriage.  The first and most important thing you should do is make up your minds that you will make it through this.  Never keep a divorce lawyer on your speed dial.
            It doesn’t matter whether you understand women or not.  It doesn’t matter whether you understand men or not.  What matters is understanding that your spouse does not think like you do.
            If you ladies are going to use your hormones as an excuse for bad behavior, then you should allow your husband to use male hormones as an excuse for his.
            Marriage is a high maintenance relationship.  As soon as you start neglecting it, it will go downhill.
            Spouses who do not communicate well and on a regular basis will soon be total strangers.
            Letting her talk is useless if you don’t listen.
            Your children are not your own.  They are merely souls God has given into your care, and He expects them to be returned in good shape.
            You are teaching your children whether you intend to or not.  What textbook are you using?  Look in the mirror.
            Make no mistake about it—you are waging a war with your toddlers, which you should win before they reach school age.  Any time you “give in,” you have lost a battle and retaking that territory will take twice as long at twice the cost to your relationship with your child.
            Too many parents don’t train their children, their children train them.
            A father who won’t change dirty diapers probably won’t be much use to his children when the messes of life afflict them either.
            If you tell your child, “If you do that again, I am going to _________ you,” and then don’t ______them when they do it again, you have lied to your child.
            Don’t tell me that a child is too young to comprehend punishment before the age of 2.  My child is smarter than any puppy dog I ever saw.  So is yours.
            Raising kids is hard work.  Our society and its children are suffering from parents who were either too lazy or too selfish to do the job right.
 
            Gleaning in the field sometimes gives you choice produce that was simply overlooked.  Other times there is a reason it was left there.  So this morning choose from the list and take what is most helpful.
 
Except Jehovah build the house they labor in vain that build it…Lo, children are a heritage of Jehovah, and the fruit of the womb is his reward.  As arrows in the hand of a mighty man, so are the children of youth.  Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them; they shall not be put to shame when they speak with their enemies in the gate, Psalm 127:1, 3-5.
           
Dene Ward

When I was a child we did not have a lot.  We always had enough, and our home was comfortable and above all happy, but we learned early on that happiness was not a product of wealth.  We did not eat out except on very special occasions, maybe the whole family once every other year and my parents only on their anniversary.  We never had a kitchen cabinet full of junk food snacks.  We drank water between meals and simply waited for the dinner hour if we wanted more.  But none of us even came close to starving.
 
           So Christmas morning was not a feeding frenzy of ripping open package after package.  Instead, we did this.  We took turns opening gifts.  And if it was a gift from you, you would have been the one to hand it to the recipient.  Then we all waited as the gift was opened and properly admired and thank-yous offered.  Then it was someone else’s turn.  Once again we all waited and watched.  Then again.  And again.  Until the gifts were all opened.

            So what did that do?  For one thing it made the whole process last much longer.  By the time we finished, our neighbors were outside playing with the customary, “Is that all?” expressions on their faces, as something they had looked forward to so long had ended far too quickly.  Usually they had more than we did, but it took us twice as long to get our little bit unwrapped, so Christmas lasted much longer for us than for them.

            Second it took the focus off “me,” not only on that day but all through the year.  We learned to pay attention to the needs and desires of others.  We learned to listen to them instead of just preparing our own replies to what they were saying.  We learned to think creatively.  “Dad can’t hear well enough to hear the words to his favorite CD.  What can I do for him?”  Answer:  find the lyrics online, print them out and wrap them in an appropriate sized box.  You might not think it was a gift, but he did.

Which leads us to the most important benefit, it taught us to appreciate the effect of our giving on others. When the gift was opened, we sat, eagerly waiting, not another toy for ourselves, but for their reaction to our gift.  When we really hit the jackpot, when sometimes a tear or two fell at our thoughtfulness, it was the best feeling in the world.  It took away the “gimme,, gimme,” and taught us what the Lord said so long ago, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

            That is what gift swapping should be about, not the grand free-for-all it has become.  We heard someone describe their annual gift opening frenzy , a five or ten minute process wherein no one ever knew what anyone else had gotten nor others’ reactions to the gifts they had given, ending it with, “But how do you stop them?”

            Well, for one thing, you don’t stand there passing them out one after the other after the other as fast as you can.  For another, you talk with your children from the time they can even begin to understand, about doing for others, about how good it feels to make them smile, to know you have given them something they really want, that really means something, even if it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.  You teach them about “priceless” gifts.  Then you exert the parental control you ought to have and direct the process, reminding them when they are still young what the point is—giving, not getting.        

            Lucas said to me one time, “My favorite part of Christmas is seeing people’s reactions to the gifts I’ve chosen.”  That is what you are aiming at.  If we want to make generous Christians out of our children, it takes a little effort, but God expects us to turn them into servants who serve not spoiled ingrates who demand.  This is just one way to help that process along.
 
​​​​​​​A generous person will be enriched, ​​​​​​and the one who provides water for others will himself be satisfied, Prov 11:25.
Dene Ward

When I was very young we lived in Orlando, but for this story you must remove present day Orlando from your minds.  In 1960 Orlando was a one horse town no one had ever heard of.  “Where is that you’re from?”  people would always ask, and I even had to spell it for them.  There was little crime, certainly no gangs or wholesale violence.  Some people still left their doors unlocked, and I don’t remember ever locking the car.  It was too hot!  You left the windows down just so you could tolerate it when you got back in.  It was still the day when stores and restaurants advertised in a little sign on the door, “Air Conditioned,” with carefully drawn snow caps perched on each letter.
         
So you can more easily understand that when we went “downtown” to see the Christmas parade, because I could not see over the crowd my parents sent me to sit on the curb with several other children.  They could see me from several “rows” back throughout the whole parade, and trusted me to “meet them by the light pole” when it was over.
           
But when it was over and everyone stood and started milling around, the light pole disappeared.  I was four feet tall and all those big people were in the way.  After a couple of panicky moments my good sense kicked in.  We had parked on the north side of Highway 50 three or four blocks from the parade site.  It was a straight shot to the car.  So I set off walking, and in short order found the car and stood by it.

About fifteen minutes later my parents found me.  “I couldn’t see the pole,” I told them, “but I knew where the car was.”  Of course I had no idea how frantic they had been, but they were not angry, just glad I had found my way back to a place where they could find me as well, and managed to hide what must have been overwhelming relief. 

I have many friends who, though they have raised their children well, have since lost them to the world.  I know they beat themselves up regularly, wondering what they did wrong.  Maybe nothing--God did give us free will after all.  I can find many godly parents in the Bible who raised hellions, and many ungodly parents who somehow produced some of God’s most faithful people. 
If you find yourself in that position today, here is something to comfort your tortured soul—if you did your best, then you have given them what they need to find their way back.  They may be in a confusing place right now, a place where all they can see are hip pockets and belt buckles, and the light pole they need to see is hidden from them.  But if you gave them a straight course while they were still with you, then, when they finally give up trying to make sense of a complicated world on their own, they can follow that course back where it started and find their way to God again. 

What is the hardest part of all this?  The waiting.  In fact, you may not live to see their return, but now it’s time for you to have that faith you tried so hard to instill in them.  You showed them the path, and if they have the heart, they will find it.  There will still be a Father looking down the road, waiting to welcome them home, even if you are gone and cannot do it yourself.  Hang onto that hope, and don’t ever let it go.
 
I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants." And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' But the father said to his servants, 'Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.' And they began to celebrate.  Luke 15:18-24.
 
Dene Ward