The Need for Self-Discipline in order to Discipline

Disciplining children is such a challenge because it requires so much self-discipline.

You have to be prompt. You have to be consistent. You have to be discerning and wise (and by this, I mean biblical). You have to be loving (not disciplining out of anger or irritation). And the hardest of them all: you have to be sure not to dangle temptation before their eyes.

The lack of discipline in the home can come in many disguises. I know this because I am so often guilty of hiding behind them. It doesn’t appear to be that way at first, until the moment when you want the child to behave in a certain way and you cannot get them to.

I know that for the first-time parent, there is that point in time when you realize that your child really is capable of understanding reason, or the distinction between unacceptable behaviour and good behaviour. There was a point when I realized that I didn’t have to wait for Nathaniel to fully understand the English language in order to not do something I deemed unacceptable or to follow instructions. Early on, he could tell by my facial expressions, gestures, pick it up from the words I used.

I could be doing chores in the kitchen and he’d be playing by himself in the living room. From time to time, I would catch him looking over at me—either it was because he wanted a smile of affirmation from Mommy or he wanted to see whether what he was about to do would receive a look of disapproval. Nathaniel knew.

Now that Nathaniel is two-years-old, discipline on my part is much more crucial because he is so aware of what I am doing or what his daddy is doing. When he was a baby, we could still do whatever we wanted (go on the laptop, turn on the TV, etc.) because he had no clue what we were doing. At the toddler stage, it’s a different story.

Mommy and Daddy can rarely partake in our own leisure activities while he is awake now because Nathaniel always wants to be a part of whatever we‘re doing. On most days, I am successful with not watching television so that Nathaniel doesn’t either—but on other days, I give in, and turn it on to watch one or two of my own programs.

Sometimes, I think it’s okay to give ourselves a little bit of grace. A couple of weeks ago, I came down with a cough and cold. I had a splitting headache for two days—for two days, I forgave myself for using the TV as a babysitter. The past summer, whenever Daddy came home from work, after we ate dinner together as a family, Daddy liked to turn on the TV to watch baseball. The husband, I understand, had had a long hard day at work. Baseball was one of his ways of relaxing at the end of the evening. Nathaniel loved sitting on the couch and watching baseball with him (actually, the nerd—he just liked reading the numbers at the top of the television screen). So I thought this was okay. The program was safe. And the son got to bond with Daddy.

In most other circumstances, however, we try to keep television watching to a minimum. On days when I know that the television has been on for a little bit too long, I pray to God for grace—I‘ll do better tomorrow, God. I‘ll do better tomorrow.

But the worst case I have seen by far was back in June when the IPad and IPhone made their way into our house. At first, it seemed harmless. Nathaniel was fascinated by the games. He was laughing and having so much fun. Until it came time to part with the toy. Nathaniel threw the biggest tantrum I had ever witnessed. After a few more times of letting him play with it and receiving the same reaction, the husband and I decided that Nathaniel had lost all privileges of playing with such devices. Any object that elicits such an awful reaction results in the loss of all privileges of playing with the toy.

Trust me, there are times when we are out when it is tempting to pull it out to keep him preoccupied. And there are times when I have given in. But now, there is that loud voice in my head that tells me that it is not worth it. It wasn‘t simply that the toy was causing him to take tantrums, but that, from a biblical perspective, these toys were becoming objects of worship. When they were in his hands, he paid attention to nothing else around him.

As I have mentioned, our new parents small group at church is currently doing a book study on Douglas Wilson‘s Standing on the Promises: A Handbook of Biblical Childrearing. His advice about not leading our children into temptation really spoke to me, particularly the following passage: “Parents must not lead their children into temptation. Our heavenly Father minimizes temptation for us; we must do the same for our children (Mt. 6:13; 1 Cor. 10:13). For example, parents should not keep them up to all hours, and then marvel when they are crabby. Parents must not issue commands like a machine gun, and then wonder why all the commands are not obeyed. Parents are to imitate God, not some tyrannical agency of the federal government. Parents must pick their battles carefully, and then win all the battles.”

While self-discipline is hard for us parents, when properly executed, it actually makes the home atmosphere a lot more peaceful. The children are not perpetually exposed to temptation and the parents stuck with dealing with the aftermath. Furthermore, we are not forced to deal with getting into the same battles again and again. At the same time, disciplining for any one behaviour often requires a long process. It is so easy to give in or to be lenient when feeling tired or distracted. But I have seen it. God has enabled me to see the results when I really put the time and effort to correct Nathaniel’s behaviour (a recent battle I have been fighting is his whining and complaining—I praise the Lord that the situation is improving). God teaches us to rejoice always, to be content in whatever circumstances, and I have been trying to instil this attitude in my son.

Wilson describes the way we ought to look at discipline:”Discipline is corrective; it seeks to accomplish a change in the one being disciplined. Punishment is meted out in the simple interests of justice... God disciplines His people as He takes them through the daily process of their sanctification. He has their final glorification in view, and all His discipline works toward that end... Because discipline seeks to correct, it has accomplished its purpose when the correction has been made.”

Given that I still have to wake up twice in the middle of the night to feed the baby, I have found it hard to stay awake to read books. Even when I do read, it doesn‘t seem like much of the information is entering my head. As a result, I have resorted to listening to sermons before going to bed. I have transcribed an excerpt of a sermon I listened to last night, entitled “Be Zealous” (preached by Dr. Joel Beeke). The part that I chose addresses precisely what I have been trying to discuss—how we are to strive toward being godly parents when we, ourselves, are struggling with our own sins:


“What a challenge it is to be a zealous parent for Jesus Christ in front of your children. You are called to lead little ones to God and yet you struggle against the rebellion pent up in your own heart, your own natural backwardness to the things of God, your pride, your love of self, your irritation with your children, the inherited corruption of their nature, and yours, for that matter, your own sinfulness. How can you be zealous when you are constantly correcting your children, you are constantly trying to make things just even morally decent. You feel like a hypocrite, nagging endlessly when your own soul often goes in the direction that your disobedient children are going in. What do you do as a zealous parent?

Well you turn to God. You turn to God for strength. You use those means. You ask him to work personal holiness and true repentance in you, that you be an example and encouragement to your children, that your children can look at you and say, ʻMy mom and dad, well they are not perfect, but one thing you cannot take away from them, they really love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity. They love my soul. They love my soul even more than I do.ʼ

Our children ought to really be able to say that of us. We ought to want to make such a difference in the lives of our children that even the friends of our children when they come into our houses can see something different about our house. ʻThere are people in this house that walk with the Lord, that are zealous for the Lord, zealous for a life of real communion, a life of repentance, a life of faith.ʼ

And that is why, with all our parental shortcomings, we are called to press on zealously, with a biblical discipline, loving discipline, with instruction, teaching our children the things of God even when it seems that they are not listening.

But especially, a zealous parent will be on his knees. We use our knees more than we will use the rod. We will be more in our prayer closet than at our parental lectern. We will be talking more to God about our children than to our children about God. And we will do so with cries and sighs and tears and faithful, regular earnest pleading until the Lord answers. And we will bring them up to Godʼs house with a hope in our heart, ʻthis will be the timeʼ. As we return from church, we will talk to them as enabled about what they have heard. We will show them with our lifestyle what a joy it is to serve the Lord, how foolish it is to go our own way. And in family worship, we will want to reinforce it always, always, never tiring of telling them how wonderful the Saviour is and they need to repent and turn to him and find real life and real power and real prayer. We will use our Scripture readings for that, prayers, singing... oh we want to show them that Jesus Christ is altogether lovely!”

There is a long parental journey ahead. There may be moments when we feel exasperated. And yet we must remember that we are not doing it alone. Thank God we are not doing it alone. By God‘s grace, his power, may we parents learn to practice greater discipline in our lives—for the sake of our children. Not simply for this life, but with our eyes set on eternity.

Life with Two...

A few weeks ago I went for a stroll in the mall with the two kids. When the newborn started to fuss, I went to the Mother’s Lounge to feed her. There I was, relaxing on the couch, Nathaniel next to me, who was playing with the “emergency” toy that I keep in my purse for him specifically when I am preoccupied with Jenuine and need him to sit still and behave. A first-time mother entered the lounge shortly after I sat down. Her five-month-old was crying. She started to change his diaper on the change table, meanwhile he was wailing incessantly. We conversed, and then she looked at me and my two kids, and said, “How do you handle two?”

I must say, I was amused by her question. Because just weeks earlier, I would have been the one asking any mother with more than one child the exact same question. Just weeks earlier, still pregnant, I was worrying and anxious about how I was going to do it.

The newborn is ten weeks old now. And while there are moments when I am unsuccessful with getting the two kids to nap at precisely the same hour, and therefore do not have a chance to nap myself (which makes for an extremely tiring afternoon and anticipation for the husband to come home), I am amazed at and thankful for how quickly one is able to adapt in situations such as these.

In a matter of weeks, you figure out what “works.” You learn when to fit in the shower, the baths for the kids. You learn to intersperse dinner preparation throughout the day rather than waiting for dinnertime to prepare for the evening meal. You learn to somehow feed the toddler and get him to play on his own at precisely the moment when you need to tend to the newborn.

While I may not have reacted or responded as I should have during those initial weeks when Nathaniel was exhibiting extreme manifestations of jealousy, I learned. Slowly and steadily, I learned. There was one afternoon when Nathaniel saw me carrying Jenuine up the stairs to put her to sleep. He began screaming for me and wouldn’t stop. I gave him a chance. I told him to come with me, but he refused to. So I left him downstairs. He cried and cried and cried until I came down. To the point that when he finally stood up, a gigantic puddle of water sat on the hardwood floor where he was lying.

Almost eleven weeks, the jealous behaviour still surfaces from time to time, but with some love, affection, and discipline, his behaviour has improved. The tantrums and screaming sometimes take place, but the duration is much shorter. Me? I have had to learn to control my anger. Sometimes, I get upset when Nathaniel expresses his jealousy. I felt that I had spent a good amount of time with him (I try to whenever Jenuine is sleeping), and for him to exhibit such behaviour irritated me. I have had to learn more patience too.

After the mother that I had met in the Mother’s Lounge changed her baby, she told the baby that she needed to go to the washroom. The baby was, of course, unconcerned about the mother’s need. He continued to wail and flail his arms and legs. The mother sighed and decided not to go to the washroom. I couldn’t help but say to her, “If you have to go, you have to go.” The mother hesitated. Then shook her head and decided to wait until the baby stopped crying. The baby didn't. She left the washroom, not having gone.

I smiled, sympathetic and empathetic of the mother’s plight.

Mothers say that the second time around is a lot easier. They are right. With Nathaniel, I was very uncomfortable with his crying. It vexed me. It was only when some time had passed that I was okay with doing chores and tending to my own needs, meanwhile, leaving him to cry. It comes to the point when you realize you have no choice. And with two now—this is all the more true.

Though I know there will be new challenges that surface—life is more settled now. I am thankful for the support of family and friends, which I know not every mother has the luxury of having. I know I have said this many times, but I’ll say it again—I don’t know where I’d be without God’s Word to comfort and guide me.

The past week, reading news headlines about reports of mothers taking the lives of their children because of the pressure, the psychological stress, the pressing demands—it terrified me. At first, I quietly questioned God, “What kind of world is this—that we have parents murdering their own children?” But then I reflected further. What kind of dark world must the mother be living in, with no family or friends, and worse— no God—to give her the strength and hope when she most desperately needs it?

The harvest is plenty, but the labourers are few. I know God has called me to stay home to raise, love, teach, and nurture my children. During the moments when I feel overwhelmed by the labour, I pray for God to infuse strength in me. In these moments, my heavenly Father grants me a vision of what He desires for my children and it is incredible how bright this vision burns in my mind. I pray that this vision sustains, that it can withstand the exhaustion that comes with mothering, the judgments that come from those who do not hold the same values as me. With God as my strength, I will persevere.

For everything there is a season...

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.”

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

The husband recently bought a digital frame to put in our family room. For several weeks, he spent hours uploading photos onto it, dating back as far as a decade ago. When the digital frame first became popular, I was not at all interested in using it to showcase our family pictures. I found the tool impersonal, cold, nothing like the framed pictures that I have on our room walls or the gallery displayed along our staircase. The traditional way of keeping our pictures was more intimate; when placed alongside each other in a particular configuration, they could even tell a story.

Lee put the digital frame next to our television, so in the evenings, when we’re watching something, I could see the pictures flashing before me, one after the other. I guess I never have the time to pick up an album now, or go through our hard drive to see the thousands of pictures we’ve accumulated, so I didn’t expect that I would feel nostalgic upon seeing the many pictures that Lee had uploaded.

In particular, I forgot how many things Lee and I did together before the kids were around. Back to our dating days, even the three years before Nathaniel and Jenuine became part of our family—we had traveled to Mexico, Hong Kong, Italy and France (honeymoon), gone to baseball games, skiing, musicals, played on the church softball team together, taken road trips...

It wasn’t that I had forgotten that we had done these things, but that I had forgotten what we were like before the kids came into the picture. Even though it has only been a little over two years, I suddenly began to long for the intimacy that we once had. During meals now, or even sitting amidst the pews during church service, we’ve got at least one kid between us. I wondered—how long would it be before we could do all that stuff again—he and I?

Granted, I am thankful for where I am now. I know that my friends who do not have children look at us and are grateful that they still have the freedom that they do. I understand—I was like that too. But now—I am taking joy in the present—in my children growing up, in watching my husband coming home from work and relishing in the smiles and adorable faces of his children—and God willing, in the future that we are building with our new family dynamic.

I am blessed to have grown up in a loving family. My mom did everything she could to keep us close. She was the glue in our family. She planned all the family trips during summers and Christmases. I even remember what it was like hanging out with my sister and brother. It was almost like it didn’t matter where we were—we three siblings would have fun even being stuck in the hotel room, at night, with our junk food, board games—talking nonsense into the camcorder as we made short videos of our time away from home.

God willing—when Nathaniel and Jenuine are older—I can’t wait until the family that Lee and I are raising can do the same things, nurturing the same intimacy that I was so familiar with growing up as a child.

And in time, I am sure that Lee and I will be able to know what it’s like to be with each other again—without the crazy demands of raising two children.

The passage in Ecclesiastes offers great wisdom and comfort. For everything there is, indeed, a season, and for every season, I must always remember to be thankful.

Creative Parenting

Amidst all the busyness of caring for two children, it’s important to find some time here and there for reflection. I’m the type of person who often likes things to be relatively predictable and manageable. Whenever I come across some problem or challenging circumstance that makes me feel like I’m not in control, I often go straight to doing research, reading, or searching of some formula or solution so that I can get my life back to being predictable and manageable again.

While it is important to bear in mind particular principles of parenting (more importantly, biblical principles), a lot of times, how to carry out that principle can be challenging. There isn’t always some method out there you can simply follow.

This came to me as I’ve been reflecting on Nathaniel’s strengths and weaknesses (one of the devotions I’ve been doing recommended that you take the time to do this for your child so that you can pray for them).

Ever since Nathaniel was able to play with toys on his own, one of his “weaknesses” is that he can’t take things “not working out,” or to put it more harshly—he doesn’t like to fail. When he was a baby, certain toys that he couldn’t manoeuvre would easily cause him to cry. Now that he’s two-years-old, this behaviour hasn’t improved. The other day, he was trying to carry some puzzle pieces across the room. He put them all in his hand, but clearly, his hands were too small to carry all of the pieces. Next thing you know, half the pieces fell onto the floor. Rather than picking them up, or figuring out some other way to get all the pieces across the room, he started bawling. (With a newborn to take care of now—this can become rather annoying.)

This week, I started to consider how I was supposed to modify this behaviour (other than improving his problem-solving skills). I reflected on what I personally was doing to cause him to behave this way. Then an insight came to me.

Every time Nathaniel gets a new toy, I teach him how to play it. Furthermore, I teach him how to play it properly. Recently, someone at church gave our family a gift. It was a set of three baskets that came with bean bags. Nathaniel didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it—and in that moment, I realized what I had to do. Like always, he watched me demonstrate to him how to play with the toy. I threw the bean bag toward the basket, but purposely missed. Then I cried out enthusiastically, “Missed!” Nathaniel was amused. I did this again and again and again, purposely missing the basket every time. Then finally, I threw the bean bag into the basket, and I shouted, “Yay! I got it!” Nathaniel began clapping. Then it was his turn. Of course, he missed every shot, but this time, he jumped up happily and imitated me, crying out “Missed!”

One more example. I was very fortunate that for the first 18 months of Nathaniel’s life, he would eat anything I gave him. Mothers were warning me, however, that once he hit the toddler stage, his pickiness for food would kick in. Sadly, they were right. For months, I, like other exasperated mothers, had to find different ways to get Nathaniel to eat the food he was supposed to. The baby who once would scarf down anything, no longer wanted to try new food. That was the frustrating thing—that he decided whether he was going to eat a particular food before even trying it—deeming it unappetizing by the texture or the colour.

Then an idea came to me a couple of months ago. I wanted to get Nathaniel curious about food. I wanted to get him to enjoy trying new foods (the food that was good for him, that is). I decided to take a trip to Costco in the afternoon. Around early evening, different food stations were always set up for customers to sample their products. So there I was, pushing Nathaniel in the shopping cart. I would stop at each food station, and go, “Mmmmmmmm... What’s that?” I’d take the sample, eat it slowly in front of him, watching to see if he was curious. Of course, he was. I’d let him take a nibble. He’d smile, indicating he wanted more. Then we were off to the next food station, and I did the same thing, until we visited every one.

Sometimes, the food stations served chocolate milk, sometimes salsa, sometimes sausages, sometimes chicken. It didn’t matter. My point that day wasn’t so that he would eat healthy. It was to let him see how much good stuff he was missing out on simply by rejecting any food he didn’t recognize or deemed “unappetizing.”

I followed through by beginning to do the same thing at home. While he was playing, I would go to the kitchen and get myself a “snack”—something he had never eaten before. I’d sit on the couch and start to eat the food, making sure he saw that I was eating, but not offering him any. It was only a matter of time before he came to me and asked if he could have some. “Have some?” Sometimes, I ate some tasty snacks, but sometimes, it was soup, or meat balls, or whatnot.

While toddlers are not at all consistent with their behaviour, Nathaniel has begun to eat well again. I’m happy that, even though he’ll reject his dinner at times, for the most part, he will finish it, or at least taste a bite before rejecting it.

This is where Creative Parenting comes in. It’s a product of prayer, patience, reflection, love for your children and a desire to nurture them in a way that best fits their unique temperament and character. One method may work on a child and not the other; nonetheless, it takes a lot of perseverance and thought to bring out the best from them. And when the methods I apply do happen to work, I have only God to thank. He is the one who instils in me the vision of what I want for my children. He is the one who encourages me to press on—and to enjoy the process along the way.

Relying on God's Strength

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13

It is day three of my going at this “mother of two” thing on my own. The husband returned to work on Monday. While I couldn’t ask for better circumstances (a son who can play quite independently, and a newborn who, so far, exhibits minimal crying), taking care of two has posed some new challenges.

I consider myself a rather patient person. When I just had Nathaniel to take care of, while he may have disobeyed me from time to time, whined here and there, and taken lifetimes to finish his meals—for the most part, I could deal with all that without losing my patience. With two, I have discovered, it is quite a different story.

You see, it is easy to have patience when you have time. These days, however, I have found myself raising my voice more often with Nathaniel, and feeling irritated by his dawdling (which, not too long ago, I found endearing). Much of the time, I catch myself in the act and I quickly try to regain my composure. As if being taken out of a trance, I smile at him or hug him or kiss him. I’ve been trying harder to make Nathaniel feel like “nothing much has changed.” For the past two years, day after day, it has been just he and I. Days of taking care of one is like going out to fine dining: you have all the time in the world to savour the gourmet food; with two, however, it has become more like going out for fast food—just when I’m done taking care of one child, I have to zip ahead and take care of the other.

There is only one point of the day, if I am fortunate, when I have some down time. When the two go down for their naps. If Jenuine was particularly demanding the night before, this time is for me to lie down and refuel before the two wake up and I have to go at it all over again. What I hope for, even in these initial weeks, is that I get just enough sleep the night before that I can use this time for more productive activities other than sleeping.

I have two big fears right now. First, as a new mother the second time around, I have this fear that I might squander the few free moments that I do have. I desperately do not want to. In fact, I’ve been praying hard that I don’t. I want to use my time well. I want to use my time for God. But it is so easy— so easy—not to. My second fear is related to the first. I don’t just want to be a mother or wife that just goes through the motions, fulfilling my obligatory tasks day after day. I want to be the mother that God wants me to be. I want to be able delight in my children when I need to, tend to their needs as I ought to, and discipline them when I must. But it is challenging to keep all these things in balance. One sleepless night, one cup of milk that smashes to the floor, one child being excessively whiny, and I can be off-balance again.

Which is why my second fear is tied to my first. I have to spend time with God, or rather, I need to spend time with God. I have to cease everything and do that—otherwise, I risk everything going off-kilter. The threat is very subtle, but it’s there. My response to my present fears, I realize, must therefore be an active one, not passive.

I’ve been re-reading D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones’s Spiritual Depression. In these quiet moments when the children are asleep, I find myself thirsting to be empowered. I skim through the books lining my bookshelves, and I am eager to find a book that’ll just “hit the spot”—that’ll lift me up so I can carry on from day to day, making each day matter in the grander scheme of things.

You see, with two children, I very often now see my life flashing before me. All I have to do is picture Nathaniel in high school, or Jenuine on her wedding day (God willing), and all of a sudden, I’m near the end of my life. And that’s when the apprehension stirs: I don’t want to get to that day and wonder to myself—as a mother and wife, what have I done with all that time? Did I make that time matter? Did I genuinely and wholeheartedly offer my entire and best self upon God’s altar so that His glory could be manifest? The thing is—His glory is not simply seen in the big and obvious things—it is found in the every day, starting from the children’s newborn days, minute after minute, hour after hour, year after year, until God decides that my job is done. And that, indeed, requires all the prayer I can muster.

An excerpt I read in Jones today was this:

The Christian life after all is a life, it is a power, it is an activity. That is the thing we so constantly tend to forget. It is not just a philosophy, it is not just a point of view, it is not just a teaching that we take up and try to put into practice. It is all that, but it is something infinitely more. The very essence of the Christian life, according to the New Testament teaching everywhere, is that it is a mighty power that enters into us; it is a life, if you like, that is pulsating in us. It is an activity, and an activity on the part of God.

I really like the analogy Jones gives in this particular sermon concerning an error that we Christians often make. He likens our situation to ways in which we seek to improve our health. The wrong way is to spend all our time and money going from spa to spa, treatment to treatment, physician to physician. We end up never getting well. The error is that we have forgotten the law of first principles. What we ought to be doing is eating better and exercising more. “Health is something that results from right living”—and this is the same for the “question of power in our Christian lives… In addition to our prayer for power and ability we must obey certain primary rules and laws…” We must go to Christ. We must spend our time with Him, meditate on Him, get to know Him. We must avoid what would rob us from all of that—just as we would from those things which rob us of our health.

Jones provides his own translation of Philippians 4:13: “I am strong for all things in the One who constantly infuses strength into me.” I like the word “infuse,” because that is precisely what I am thirsting for. That surge, that flood, that infusion of God’s power that enables me as a mother and wife to not simply go through the motions of such roles but to do it with the power of God pulsating in me.

Grace under Fire

When thy blessings come I begin to idolize them,
and set my affection on some beloved object—
children, friends, wealth, honour;
Cleanse this spiritual adultery and give me chastity;
close my heart to all but thee.
Sin is my greatest curse;
Let thy victory be apparent to my consciousness,
and displayed in my life.
Help me to be always devoted, confident, obedient,
resigned, childlike in my trust of thee,
to love thee with soul, body, mind, strength,
to love my fellow-man as I love myself,
to be saved from unregenerate temper,
hard thoughts, slanderous words, meanness,
unkind manners,
to master my tongue and keep the door
of my lips.
Fill me with grace daily,
that my life be a fountain of sweet water.

Excerpt from “A Cry for Deliverance,” from The Valley of Vision

It has been six days since our daughter Jenuine’s birth, and I am already beginning to see God’s graces. From what I remember, Nathaniel was much more difficult to care for. He cried more often, demanded more milk, slept less. During this second pregnancy, I spent more time worrying about the stresses of taking care of a newborn than reflecting and anticipating Jenuine’s arrival. In retrospect, I should have spent more time recalling all the wonderful moments I had with Nathaniel, rather than dwelling on my fears.

There are the obvious things to be thankful for. Only six days old, last night, Jenuine slept a four-hour stretch, a feat that I did not have with Nathaniel until he was much older. So far, she is eating well. The labour, too, was much more smooth, and the aftermath much less painful than my first.

Then there are the not so obvious things. I vividly recall how vulnerable I was to frustration and anger following Nathaniel’s birth. I started to realize that Sleep in itself is a grace of God. The fact that life has it so that you are to rest at the end of the day is a blessing. I realized how much I took Sleep for granted until I had to tend to a newborn at all odd hours of the night. During the day, I became deeply susceptible to sin. Every temptation was there. To be ungrateful. To complain. To feel anger when circumstances did not turn out as I wanted them to. To displace my impatience on my husband.

This time around, I was wary of my falling prey to the sins that I had so easily fallen into two years ago. Days before Jenuine’s birth, I even apologized to Lee in advance for whatever emotional outbursts would manifest upon our daughter’s birth.

The first several days unfolded just as I had foreseen. Shortly after our elation of welcoming Jenuine into the family, my exhaustion and pain were overwhelming. Lee, too, was sleep-deprived. In the morning, when both children were up at an unwanted hour in the morning, neither of us wanted to get up to tend to them. Nathaniel was crying because I couldn’t rise up from bed to greet him in the morning like I used to, and Lee was lying in bed, most likely too fatigued to cheer him up. The anger and frustration in me rose to the surface and I directed such feelings toward my husband: I’m the one who had to breastfeed the newborn all night—why are you tired?

When wakefulness came to us at certain points of the day, Lee and I enjoyed our family time. But from time to time, Lee and I probably got on each other’s nerves. I thought to myself: it’s so easy to be husband and wife when our energy tanks are full, but how do we fare under conditions such as these?

Daily I pray for God’s grace. That He cover the multitude of sins that come up in this household. That He sanctify us. Deliver us from sin after sin after sin. That our family glories in more than just welcoming a new member to the family—but that, behind the scenes, with the countless sins that our flesh is naturally prone to, we be delivered from them—and therein lies the greater glory—overcoming those little hindrances that often go unseen, the ones bubbling just underneath the surface of our seemingly composed dispositions.

I thank God that He has given Lee and me enough grace to learn from our mistakes. That though we do not always express our regrets in words, we express them through the subtle gestures, small acts of consciousness of and sensitivity to the other person’s needs. It takes God’s grace because carrying out such acts requires a putting to death of our own selves, our own selfishness, our own self-centredness. Rather than being consumed by what each of us personally need or rightfully “deserve,” we try to put ourselves in the other person’s shoes, and respond accordingly.

You can say that, with God’s power and strength, we can even surmount the ill effects of sleeplessness and pain.

I’ve been reading prayers from The Valley of Vision. They are perfect for the worn out mother—they are short but possess the much needed depth to lift up and inspire the spirit. I will close with another excerpt from the book, which is entitled “Need of Grace”:

Thou makest me possess the sins of my youth,
and the dreadful sin of my nature,
so that I feel all sin,
I cannot think or act but every motion is sin.
Return again with showers of converting grace
to a poor gospel-abusing sinner.
Help my soul to breathe after holiness,
after a constant devotedness to thee,
after growth in grace more abundantly every day.
O Lord, I am lost in the pursuit of this blessedness,
And am ready to sink because I fall short of my desire;
Help me to hold out a little longer,
until the happy hour of deliverance comes,
for I cannot lift my soul to thee
if thou of thy goodness bring me not nigh.
Help me to be diffident, watchful, tender,
lest I offend my blessed Friend
in thought and behaviour;
I confide in thee and lean upon thee,
and need thee at all times to assist and lead me.
O that all my distresses and apprehensions
might prove but Christ’s school
to make me fit for greater service
by teaching me the great lesson of humility.

Cultivating JOY in the Home

You know sometimes when you happen to be interacting with a toddler—he or she talks to you, and immediately, you look at the mother for a translation? Well, in case you ever happen to be talking to Nathaniel, here is some help in understanding him:

Nathaniel knows his numbers from 1 to 10. However:

One = “WEE”
Seven = “FOO” (I have no idea why)

Thanks = “Ting”
Circle = “Der Doe”
Push = “Beesh”
Up = “Up –poh” (Not to be confused with ‘Apple’)
Triangle = “Keu”
Deen Wah (Phone in Chinese) = “Deen Dah”

I'm in the middle of reading Nancy Wilson's Praise Her in the Gates: The Calling of Christian Motherhood. While her chapters cover such topics as the church, pregnancy/childbirth, dealing with sick kids, what to do during dinnertime/bedtime/holidays, discipline... there seems to be an underlying message to all these different aspects of the mother's life: the importance of cultivating JOY in the home.

Consider the following excerpts from her book:

"A pleasant home should be full of joy and full of beauty--the beauty of holiness. Though these are closely connected, the first is more important because it is the foundation for the second. There can be no holiness apart from joy-inducing forgiveness and redemption. We must understand that the beauty that accompanies holiness is impossible apart from transforming grace. This beauty sloshes over into our surroundings as we strive to make our homes reflect the goodness, glory, and majesty of God's perfect beauty." (p. 91)

"God's people, of all the people in the world, ought to be a rejoicing people because we, of all people, have much to rejoice about. Our homes should be pleasant, happy, lovely reflections of the joy we have received in Christ. Here is a thought test you can run ot see if your home is indeed a pleasant place to be. Is there rejoicing in your 'tents'? Does your home spill out sweetness and light? Is it pleasant for the family as well as guests? Do your husband and children look forward to being home? Are you an oasis of comfort to your family when they come home? Is it a peacefuly, happy aroma that pervades?" (p. 92)

"The pleasant home is gracious. This means it is full of grace. If Christ is not present in our lives, He is not present in our homes. We cannot attempt to call Him up to appear whenever we want Him, perhaps during family devotions at dinnertime. We are to serve Him, present our bodies to Him as living sacrifices, every day of our lives. If Christ reigns in our lives, then it follows that He will reign in our homes. This aroma of Christ is what makes our homes more than pleasant. It makes them glorious.

In all, then, a pleasant home is where our families can laugh together, relax together, work together, eat together in harmony and love. It is not a place where our children had better tow the line or Mom will jump on them." (p. 94)

"Our homes are the canvases He has given us to paint. Let us paint them with soul, with gospel, and with all our might." (p. 96)

Nathaniel has been making it so easy to be joyful every morning. And I find that even when he gets upset over something, with the right spirit, if I can just turn the situation into something fun or amusing, a tiny smile will begin to creep up on that adorable face. JOY is contagious!

How blessed we are that God has intended for our homes, our families, to function this way!