Today I sent my first-born off to middle school and my baby girl off to third grade. For my oldest, I have just six more days like today – the first day of school – before she graduates. As I watched her question the size of her school bag and the details of her schedule, I felt the pages of the calendar slipping by. For the briefest of moments, I imagined her as she looked on the first day of Kindergarten, juxtaposed with the young woman she is growing into. The change is startling.

When your child starts pre-school, it feels like the whole world and all of time is before you. Older, wiser parents warn how quickly time flies, but as “baby parents” we have absolutely no idea just how true that old adage really is. Just like our kids, the whole “time flies” concept gets heavier and more complicated as the years pass.

As toddlers and elementary students, we lead our kids through thick and thin. In middle school, it feels a bit like we’re playing ring-around-the-rosy with them, going around in circles with each other. Although I’m not there yet, I imagine the rolls switch a bit in high school, as our kids start to take the pole position and we race to follow behind.

So on this day of firsts, I am praying for my children. I came across a special prayer written a few years ago by a father in Florida. (I did not write this prayer, but I have altered it slightly to fit my girls.) I think it perfectly fits the cries of my heart:

Almighty God,
Watch over my children.

In an age of violence, teach them peace.
Fill their souls with harmony rather than discord.
Protect them from injury, harm and sudden death at the hands of others.

Watch over my children, dear Lord.
In an age of materialism, selfishness, and greed,
Let them see beyond the things of this world so that they may see a glimpse of things spiritual.
Let them value others above themselves.
Let them seek wisdom above wealth.

Watch over my children, dear Lord.
In an age of lust, let them know love.
In an age of gratification, let them know restraint.
Keep them sexually chaste and self controlled.

Watch over my children, dear Lord.
As they grow, guide them.
As they stumble, hold them.
In their times of anger, love them.
In their times of fear, touch them.
In their times of foolishness, teach them.
When they stray from your path, retrieve your lost sheep.

Watch over my children, dear Lord.
Do not grant all the desires of their hearts,
But grant all the needs of their souls.
Let them know sacrifice and discipline
So that they may know strength and faith.
As gold is placed in fire to be refined,
Give my children pain and suffering
So that they may lose those things in their hearts and minds that are harmful to their souls.

Watch over my children, dear Lord.
Give them love for the beauty of the world you have made.
Give them love for the family and friends.
Give them love for the strangers in their midst.
And above all, give them love for you,
That they may know you,
Serve you,
And glorify you.

Watch over my children, dear Lord.
Forgive us as parents when we have failed in the nurture of these children,
And quiet our worries and fears.
May we, trusting in your love for our children,
find rest and peace in the knowledge that you are with them.

Amen.

Any parent knows that getting children to take medicine can often be quite difficult. A simple trip to the pharmacy is sometimes enough to evoke fear in a parent, particularly for those of us with strong-willed kids.

Over the past 11 years, we have tried a variety of methods, from applesauce to peanut butter, and trickery to bribery, to make “the medicine go down.” Interestingly enough, a simple change in perspective may have been all we needed. Let me explain.

Over the weekend, my 8-year-old was prescribed an antibiotic by her pediatrician, to treat an infection. My heart sunk as I read the dosage on the bottle: four teaspoons, twice a day. Yikes – that’s a lot! Normally I would have asked for a pill, but it was late (I was at a 24-hour pharmacy) and I forgot. So, we had to make due with what we had at least until I could get back to the pharmacy to swap it out (if need be).

I found a small medicine cup that held four teaspoons perfectly and carried it up to her bedroom. Thus, the thrashing about began. After spilling most of the first cup, we tried again and finally got it down (followed by a hefty chaser of water). Whew. One dose down, only nine more to go.

The next day was more of the same… crying, yelling (not just the child), spilling, and so on. It’s never fun to fight a sick child to take her medicine.

This morning, I couldn’t find the medicine cup. After searching through all the kitchen drawers, I finally found a different medicine cup – one a bit bigger.

I decided to simply sit the cup (filled with medicine) on the counter next to her breakfast, and not say anything about it (you know, the classic “ignorance is bliss” approach). Shortly after, my sick child came in to eat her pancakes and shocked me by saying, “Awesome! I only have to take half the dose now?!” She then held her nose and swallowed the whole four teaspoons (and the whole cup of juice sitting next to it) in the same amount of time it took me to blink twice.

Wait a minute. What just happened? Why was it that easy? Oh yes – all it took was a simple change in perspective. The bigger cup made it look like she only had to drink a smaller amount of the nasty white liquid. I told her it was the same amount and she shrugged, then dug into her pancakes.

Hmmm… wonder what else a change in perspective could fix?

It’s been just over a year since we took a group of families to Nicaragua to lead a summer camp for disadvantaged youth living in the Managua city dump. It was our first attempt at family missions, and was hugely successful. As I wrote after we returned:

“We were tested, stretched, molded, and generally made uncomfortable by various elements of the trip. But that was different for everyone. Some were most affected by the bugs and heat. For others it was the food and unsafe water. Or, just witnessing the poverty. And for some… it was the fear of the unknown. But everyone was taken outside his/her comfort zone and asked to rely on God’s provision. It’s impossible not to grow from that. And when you serve as a family, you also grow closer with each other.”

I’m so excited to now be planning our second family mission trip to Nicaragua. Our goal is to take 4-5 families to meet with and serve 4-6 Nicaraguan families at Campo Alegria. Whereas the previous trip saw us hanging out with kids for three days, this time around we will spend three days with whole families. We will invite them to “vacation” with us at the camp. While they are there, we will feed them, clothe them, listen to them, fellowship with them, entertain them, serve them, and love them. Somewhere along the way, we hope to share about our faith.

When will this happen? As this will be our third trip to Nicaragua, we wanted to stretch ourselves a bit more. Being at Campo Alegria is like a little oasis in the desert. It has running water, electricity, doors, windows, beds, tables, couches, internet access, and even a washer and dryer. And, it’s situated on a beautiful lake with wonderful swimming. (Yes, there are drawbacks – namely the bugs and heat – but overall it’s a far cry from what most missionaries encounter in developing countries.) In any case, we decided to select a certain time of year for the trip that would take us a bit more out of our comfort zones.

So… we are planning to be in Nicaragua over Christmas. In fact, we will hold our “vacation” for the Nicaraguan families December 24 – 26, 2010. While millions of kids will be tearing open present after present on Christmas Day back in the U.S., we will be serving breakfast to disadvantaged families in a developing country. How better to teach our kids about service?

My oldest daughter asked if we’d have a Christmas tree. Maybe we could decorate a palm tree? Who knows. We’ll get creative.

Plenty of people have expressed shock at us leaving our families over Christmas. But we see our families all the time – why do we have to share a meal together on Christmas? The holiday is Jesus’ birthday, after all, and He certainly taught us a lot about sacrifice. Here He was, all comfy and cozy up in Heaven as God, but He stepped outside of His comfort zone to come down to our “developing country” and hang out with us regular folk… Then, He went and died for us all.

We know this trip isn’t for everyone, but we are praying there might be a few families who would like to join us. We can’t promise you’ll have lots of “presents” under the palm tree, but we can promise your family will feel Christ’s “presence” as you serve others together. You might even grow and strengthen in ways that wouldn’t otherwise be possible if you were home following your normal Christmas routine.

We plan to hold an informal informational meeting at our home in late August. If you’re at all interested in joining us, please let us know. And even if you can’t join us, would you pray for our trip? Gracias!

I can clearly remember my mom telling me, “I can’t wait until you have your own daughter who drives you crazy someday…” Well, I suppose she can rejoice because that day has officially arrived.

I miss the days when she would crawl up into my lap and ask me to read her a story, or when she helped me in the kitchen and didn’t care about whether she chipped her nail polish. I remember the times when she thought I could solve all her problems, and dry all her tears. Now she’s almost as tall as I am, and no longer fits in my lap. She tells me I don’t know anything and can’t understand her feelings. She’s not my little girl anymore…

A friend suggested I text her, because she might understand that method of communication better. Ahhh… spoken like a mom of a tween

We definitely seem to communicate better when we take the time to write to each other. In fact, we have an ongoing notebook in which we write to each other. The first entry dates back several years. Sometimes we go for months without needing the notebook, but lately the opposite is true.

My younger daughter has a made-up language she uses with a friend, so the parents can’t figure out what is being said. Yesterday, it seemed like my older daughter and I were each speaking a different language because neither of us could make the other understand.

I was particularly frustrated when I realized it was time to pile the four girls into the van and make the drop-offs at various softball fields. But as I turned on the car, I was instantly calmed by a particular song playing on the radio: Chris Tomlin’s version of God of this City. And as I started to sing along, I found myself switching up the words a bit, like this:

You’re the God of this family
You’re the King of these children
You’re the Lord of this household
You are

There is no one like our God
There is no one like our God

For greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this family
Greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this family

Friends with older kids keep reminding me this this too shall pass, and eventually my daughter will lose the extreme moodiness (and maybe even the ability to shoot daggers out of her eyes at the drop of a hat) in favor of a more civilized mother-daughter relationship. Maybe it will take her having daughters of her own (she tells me she will never punish her own children because that is just plain MEAN ). I hope it happens sooner, but in the meantime I’ll just try to keep singing, “Greater things have yet to come, and greater things are still to be done in this family…”

P.S. If you haven’t heard the story behind this great song, check out the video below:
The story behind God of this City

Bluetree | MySpace Music Videos

Today I want to link to a post by Angie Smith about avocados, grocery carts, and opportunities to minister to others. (Don’t worry, it’ll make sense when you get there.) But before that, I want to tell you a little about how I got here, because Angie plays a part in this story.

The “here” I’m referring to is this blog. My first web site was located at willardesigns.com. I thought it was clever to combine the d and the end of my last name with the design at the beginning of design, but most folks just got confused and couldn’t find me. Nevertheless, I used that domain for showcasing my professional work for quite a few years.

Eventually I started doing more writing, although most of it was technical in nature. (i.e., I write books for tech geeks or those aspiring to be tech geeks. Glamorous, I know.) The willardesigns.com mantra just didn’t fit. Plus, I’d always had a problem with passing myself off to be some huge company where really it’s just little-ol-me.

So I let go of that domain and registered wendywillard.com.

At first this site was just a copy of my old Willardesigns site. But eventually I switched to using a WordPress blog so I could easily update the readers of my books about new web technologies. Indeed, if you signed on to this site a few years ago, it was all Photoshop and HTML talk around here.

Gradually, I started writing about more personal, less technical topics. As I did, the category list on the left side grew to mirror the varied aspects of my life, including topics like Foster Care, Cooking, Nicaragua, Life with Kids, and Faith.

Once, I received an email from a woman who had read one of my HTML books. She was fascinated with how I had integrated my personal life with my professional web site. She asked if I was worried I might lose some potential clients because of the personal views expressed on my site. She did have a good point, but I guess I had finally come to the point in my life and my career where I didn’t care. If someone doesn’t want to hire me because my kids aren’t perfect, I take mission trips to Nicaragua, or I like the music of Laura Story, that’s OK. It probably wouldn’t be a good fit anyway.

When I look around the web at some of the other women whose blogs I frequent, I see a few things in common. First, they all are real women who post in an honest way about the stuff life throws at them. But also, each of them challenges me, whether it’s in how I cook for my family, how I spend my money or my free time, where I focus my professional efforts, who I hang out with, or just what I’m pondering.

Angie Smith is one of those women. In fact, reading her blog helped encourage me to write more honestly and more frequently here, if for no other reason than to provide an outlet for the stuff I’m thinking about. Recently she posted about an experience she had in the grocery store. It was one of those moments where God used a series of seemingly unrelated events and a perfect stranger to make her realize something important.

Her story challenged me. Her story inspired me. Her story encouraged me.

I hope I can – at some point – do something like that for you.

With two daughters, I hear a lot about “mean girls.” It seems like every week there’s more drama about who’s not speaking to whom, and who called who certain bad names. I’m sure my own daughters participate more than they admit.

Today I was getting a pedicure (thanks to my wonderful birthday present from my husband ) and the nail tech and I got to talking about such girl antics. At first I thought we were of one mind about the whole issue, but then she told me a story that left me speechless. She said that the other day her second-grade daughter came home complaining about another girl in her class. The mom (this woman I was speaking with) proceeded to tell her daughter, “Oh, ignore her… she’s a bitch anyway, just like her mother.”

I was shocked. I’ve heard moms talk like that to their teenage daughters, but never had I heard a mom talk that… er, frankly… with her 8-year-old.

Wait, frank is not the right word. Or is it? Has such foul language become so accepted in our culture that it’s OK to use it with second graders?

When moms are telling their daughters that other women are bitches, we are doing our daughters (and their whole generation) a huge disservice. We are continuing a cycle of mean girls that has absolutely no benefit in our culture. Doesn’t this mom realize she is contributing to the problem instead of helping to fix it?

When I got home and told my husband this story, he said he hears it all day at work. The women in his office frequently throw verbal punches at each other, and it’s not pretty. There are women who can slay others without ever breaking a sweat (or a nail), all while wearing a smile. Of course that sort of thing happens in schools and offices everywhere.

Why must we, as women, tear each other down so much? And worse still, why do we teach our daughters that it’s OK to treat each other that way?

I know this one insignificant blog post can’t change the world, but I am publicly stating I want my home to be a part of the solution and not a part of the problem. So for all those women that I’ve hurt in the past with my verbal punches and negative thoughts, I apologize.

I want to follow Christ’s example, to speak words of encouragement (Ephesians 4:29) instead of insult, words of sweetness (Proverbs 16:24) instead of bitterness. I pray I will be a good example for my daughters, so together we can help break the mean girl cycle.

“Friends are the family we choose for ourselves,” writer Edna Buchanan once said. I consider the “family” I’ve gathered — with five kinds of pals I count on for completely different things — among the wisest choices I’ve made. If you can find even one who embodies any of the characteristics that follow, you can consider yourself fortunate.

In case you haven’t read it, I’ve included the a link to the original article.

Burford lists the five categories of friends as: The Uplifter, The Travel Buddy, The Truth Teller, The Girl Who Just Wants to Have Fun, and The Unlikely Friend. I’d like to expand on her thoughts a bit…

1. The Uplifter
This friend is more likely to say “yes” than “no” regardless of the situation. She’s willing to watch your kids when you need a break, and sends you notes of encouragement when you’re feeling down. She is a perpetual source of positive feedback.

2. The Travel Active Buddy
I’m guessing there are not a lot of 30- and 40-something moms who jet-set off to St. Lucia with pals (as the original author suggested). Instead, I think this friend is the woman who joins you for a late-night chick-flick when you need a few laughs, or the one who cycles beside you regularly at the gym. There may not be a ton of deep conversation with this buddy, but that’s OK because the silence (while you’re being active together) is comfortable. You enjoy that this woman is just there with you when you need to get out of the house.

3. The Truth Teller
Burford wrote, “Intent is what separates the constructive from the abusive. Once you’ve established that the hard news is spoken in love (not in jealousy or malice), you’d be smart to seek out this woman’s perspective.” I agree. In addition, for Christian women, this friend is the one you can count on to give you sound advice from a Biblical perspective. And when you’re finished talking, she prays with you about the situation. We all can benefit from a few Truth Tellers in our lives.

4. The Girl Who Just Wants to Have Fun Who Has Been There
This friend is the one you turn to when your husband loses his job and you don’t know how to handle it, or when the school wants to set up an IEP for your child but you don’t even know what those three little letters stand for. You may have met her through your kids’ activities, church, or some other family event. In any case, she has a family like yours, and can offer suggestions when some aspect of your family is cause for concern. Why? Because she’s been there. This mentor is a great person to help guide you through a new experience.

5. The Unlikely Friend
We all have unlikely friends. You know, those who are quite a bit older or younger, of a different race or religion, richer, poorer, or just part of a completely different social circle. As Burford wrote, the friends “have added richness to my life that only variety can bring.” Amen to that.

As a good (yet unlikely) friend once told me, every now and then you need to take stock of your friends. You should always surround yourself with a few in each of these categories. But perhaps more importantly, we need to make sure we are acting as these types of friends for the other women in our lives. So while you might have a couple of great girlfriends who are the mentors in your life (The Girls Who Have Been There), who are you mentoring? And while you might have several women who uplift and encourage you, who are you uplifting?

But I had an appointment scheduled for a few days later, and this time I wasn’t just planning on covering the gray, I had actually told my stylist I “wanted something fresh,” because I was bored with my current color. “Maybe some auburn highlights?” I asked. Yes, I do believe those were my exact words. Now that I write them here, they seem a bit hallow.

My small group has just started a series entitled Ten Questions to Diagnose Your Spiritual Health by Donald S. Whitney. The first chapter starts with “Do you thirst for God?” It has me thinking… a lot. Also, last week’s sermon about “Living an Intentional Life“… that has me thinking too. Finally, our book club just read Same Kind of Different as Me (more on that in tomorrow’ post)… and that has me really thinking.

It’s all making me ponder how much of what God has given me I am trying to change. He gave me a wonderful husband, who loves and cares for me and our children. So what if he always leaves his dirty underwear behind the bathroom door. God gave him to me just as he is… why am I trying to change him?

He also gave me the talent for a job I can perform from home, so as to always be available for my kids. Yet, I have this desire for more… more power and prestige in the workforce… something I can’t have by working part-time from home while my kids are in school. I am blessed with what most women would refer to as “the best of both worlds”… so why am I trying to change that?

And then there’s the thing that got me started on this whole topic. It’s the least important of all these things I’m trying to change, yet it was what God used (at least, what He used today) to give me a wake-up call today. It’s my mousy-brown, turning-gray, hair. I’ve hated the color since I was old enough to know I could change it. Isn’t that what causes us all so much trouble—the knowledge there we could have something better? (Not to mention the fact that I could obviously be doing a whole lot more *useful* stuff with the money I’ve spent on changing my hair color.) I’m not saying hair color is everyone’s issue, but it’s definitely one of mine. I think it just points to an underlying current of discontentment in my life.

So I told the stylist I wanted her to color me back to my natural color (yuck), to avoid the whole my-roots-are-showing scene. I’m not in love with it, but I’ll learn to live with it. Or, better put: I’m making the decision to be content with it… for now. I’m kinda hoping God waits until I’m *really* old to turn my hair completely gray… either that or we all get raptured before the gray makes its permanent home on my head. A girl can dream, can’t she?

Oh but in case that doesn’t happen, Proverbs 16:31 offers some encouragement: Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life. Seriously? Well, alrighty then .

We were all thrilled to find out Kez not only survived, but has been caring for hundreds of refugees in a field near her home (or what’s left of it). She has been able to secure additional supplies for her refugee camp, and continues to care for them as she is able (with God’s help). She is blogging about how this catastrophe has changed her life and the lives of those around her. Here’s a brief tidbit of her latest post. Please keep Kez in your prayers and click through to read the rest.

A new life – I used to have a life. It is gone. Can you imagine that? Everything that you knew, everything that made up your day – gone. Now, I have a new life, but it does not resemble my old life.

I used to have a job, several jobs actually. They are gone, buildings disappeared into piles of rubble and patients disappeared to the countryside. Now, I have a new job, but it does not resemble my old job.

I used to have friends. They are gone: dead, injured, or evacuated. Now, I have new friends, friends that I love, but they do not resemble my old friends. (Continue reading…)

Nicaragua is often mentioned in negative tones. A majority of the population lives on less than $2 per day. Education and health needs are always in a critical state of failure. Our current government has aligned itself with Hugo Chavez and others who are opposed to freedom and liberty. Our roads are full of potholes, fuel prices are high, running a simple errand can be exhausting and one’s car takes a beating here. Personal safety and protection is a major concern when you visit some neighborhoods. All of Managua’s trash is dumped into the lake of it’s own namesake. All of these concerns can lead one to ask, is there any hope? What about the things of God? What of the future? Is there something we can’t see in all of this?

Contrasting the obvious woes of this country with the good things of the United States is an easy task. North American roads are wonderful, well planned and clearly marked. You never see an armed guard stationed outside of a pharmacy or grocery store. Even though the U.S. is in a recession, restaurants are full, football games are sold out and the average salary is really good compared to here. Most lawns are manicured, each home has running water and indoor plumbing, lots of food in the pantry, the freezer is full and the electrical grid is stable. The average family has two cars. In general, everything is very organized. Leading one to think, these people have the kingdom of God! But, is there something lacking in all of these good things?

This leads to a concluding question, which country is more spiritually free? Nicaragua has voted consistently to keep abortion illegal – it is considered murder here. Each September, the Day of the Bible is celebrated. There are many parades and public readings of the Holy Scriptures – Genesis through Revelation. Easter is our most cherished holiday! Businesses and schools are prayed over for God’s blessings. If you took a poll on the street asking the question, “Who is Lord?” The overwhelming reply would be Jesus Christ.

In North America the Bible has been taken out of schools and special permits are needed to even talk about God in schools and in the workplace. Abortion is America’s holocaust and is the slaughter of the innocents. Christians have been forced to keep their religion private. If you went to a local mall and asked the question, “Who is Lord?” I would imagine for every ten questions you would get ten different answers.

Maybe part of the answer to this dichotomy could be that even though North America seems to have the physical aspects of the kingdom of God, they have forgotten their King! Nicaragua, a nation battered, bruised and classified as a third-world country, but she still remembers her King. In this there is much hope for this nation. The future belongs to the people of God.

- The Buzbee Family