Today I am thankful that it is almost summer. My older kids’ school gets out at the end of next week, and we’ll finish up homeschool then as well. I’m always relieved to get back into our regular routine in the fall, but the change of pace summer brings is nice for a bit.

I’m excited for my kids’ summer plans. It’s going to be busy, but they all have some interesting work, service, and church activities.

I’m thankful that the Lord is faithful to me, even when I’m faithless.

I think it was the way he was standing that caught my attention. I was passing by our living room, probably carrying a basket of laundry. Todd stood frozen in front of the television, remote in hand. Pictures of two young boys, school pictures, were on the screen.

Both pictures were familiar. One was a boy who had been abducted a few days before. The other was a boy who had gone missing nearly five years earlier. Both boys lived in nearby counties, close enough to make them local stories. Our local news had covered both abductions thoroughly, and had faithfully kept the story of the long-missing boy alive. Every few weeks they would mention him and flash the same school picture on the screen, even as it became easier to tally the time he’d been gone in years rather than weeks or days. Now “FOUND” was written in bold letters across the screen.

I stared at the TV, trying to comprehend what the news anchor was saying. “They found both of them?” I asked. Todd nodded. “I think so.”

Over the next few days, the story came out. A boy had been able to describe a truck he’d seen speeding from the area of the second kidnapping. Someone called the police to say a coworker’s truck matched the description. When the police entered the apartment in hopes of finding the second boy, another boy was there. It’s reported that he walked up to the officers and said, “I’m Shawn Hornbeck.”

When they mentioned the location of the suburban St. Louis apartment where the boys were held, I realized I knew exactly where it was.

We had been at a party in a nearby house several years prior. It was memorable because the house was one of my favorite sorts of houses. Old but well maintained, on a picturesque, tree-lined street. Though it was smaller than the house featured in the movie Home Alone, it was a similar.

When I complimented the hostess on the home, she was transparent in a way that surprised me. Besides the usual remarks that old houses require a lot of upkeep, she mentioned that she didn’t like all the home’s entrances. There were so many side entrances and garage and basement doors she felt exposed. Coupled with the creaks and groans that old houses make, and the fact that they lived so close to the railroad tracks, she always felt vulnerable.

I nodded in agreement but mentally blew it off. I was working and going to school in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods of one of the country’s most dangerous cities. Two years before my car had been stolen and purposely wrecked as part of a gang initiation. This neighborhood, though, was one of the nice ones. Surely it was safe. But though this was a few years before the kidnappings, the apartment where these boys were held was right nearby. There really had been a monster living in her midst.

Now we’re in a small town. Our courthouse square looks like something out of a 1950s Americana movie set. And though the serious crimes here are few and far between, I have some sort of a connection to every one. I usually know one of the victims. In one particularly disturbing case I had regular contact through my work with the perpetrator.

When I hear of something horrendous, my first impulse is to tell myself why I’m safe from such a situation. I list the ways I’m on guard, how I can keep that particular disaster from befalling us. Other things are so random I throw my hands up in dismay. A shooting in a movie theater or a mall? We could avoid those two places, I suppose, but we can’t stop going out in public altogether. And even if we did stay home, my years working at a children’s hospital has shown me that’s not safe, either. Name a common household appliance, and I can probably recall an incident where a child was hurt or killed by one that malfunctioned.

I struggle to hold these truths in my mind. Our actions have consequences, and we must live wisely, but there are no guarantees. God is in control, but he allows things to happen for reasons we can’t comprehend.

It’s not something I can wrap up with a nice bow or top off with a pithy sentence. It just is.

When I was preparing for Monday’s Bible Study on James, I was struck by J.B. Phillips’s rendering of James 1:2-4

When all kind of trials and temptations crowd into your lives, my brothers, don’t resent them as intruders, but welcome them as friends! Realise that they come to test your faith and to produce in you the quality of endurance. But let the process go on until that endurance is fully developed, and you will find you have become men of mature character, men of integrity with no weak spots.

Now, let’s put aside discussion of the merits or demerits of Phillips’s translation. I certainly wouldn’t use it as my sole source of Scripture, but I found the analogy helpful.

If I were to walk downstairs and find one of my friends bleeding on my carpet and helping herself to my things, I would be, of course, puzzled, but I would rush to help. I would grab the bandages, apply pressure to the wound, perhaps get her a glass of water, and try to do anything else she needed. I wouldn’t kick her out in order to clean the carpet right away. I wouldn’t even scold her. Why? Because she’s my friend, and at that moment she has a need.

On the other hand, if I were to walk downstairs and find an intruder bleeding on my carpet and helping himself (or herself) to my things, I would call the police, scream bloody murder, and otherwise head for the hills. If it were within my ability to forcibly throw him out (which is unlikely, given how short I am), I would do that as well. In other words. I would go to great lengths to remove that person from my home.

That’s a picture of how we should welcome trials. James tells us that our trials have a purpose: to strengthen us and increase our faith. Our trials show us where our “weak spots” are. They teach us to rely on God, not ourselves. All of those are good things.

But let’s go back to my friend bleeding on my carpet. This is a wonderful time to show my love for my friend. It would give me joy to help my friend. I would not, however, take joy in my friend’s suffering. In fact, if I were to sit there and tell my friend how glad I am that she got hurt, because now I can express my love for her, she’s probably not going to see it as such a good thing. If the injury is severe, she might even get angry, or at least irritated.

I think that’s where we sometimes get off in the ditch. Although we can have joy that the trials make us more like Christ — a good thing — we sometimes think that we have to be joyful about the trial itself. I’ve seen people who felt guilty for mourning the bad things in life — death, divorce, illness, and tragedy — because they felt that they were supposed to rejoice. Rejoice in God’s goodness and care of us. Rejoice that nothing we endure is pointless, but remember that bad things in life make us sad. Every human alive knows that only maniacs and heartless people laugh at tragedy. Christians shouldn’t be any different.

To some degree, we get this. Let’s say a Christian with an unexpected expense (a definite trial) has unfettered, unchecked access to his employer’s bank account. It would be tempting to steal the money, thinking that nobody would ever know. Perhaps you think that you could repay the money sometime, so it’s more like borrowing. Most of us (hopefully), will realize that it’s far better to endure the jam and honor God than do something dishonorable.

But honoring God includes more than just our actions, it also includes our attitude. We may not go to sinful means to eliminate the trials, but we act like they’re an intruder in our home: It’s a bad thing, and we need to scream bloody murder until the bad thing is gone. The Bible tells us to endure, just like we endure the needs of a friend. We do what needs to be done, trusting that God has a good purpose we can’t see. That doesn’t mean we’re happy about it, and it certainly doesn’t mean that we laugh like a crazed maniac. It means that we trust and do what needs to be done until the trial has passed.

A few years ago I was on the outside looking in at a conflict between two sets of believers. It was a painful conflict, with hurt and anger and broken relationships all around.

There was certainly sin on both sides of the issue, but from my vantage point it seemed that the side most at fault was getting the most sympathy, while the injured party was forced to take it on the chin. Since it was one of those messy situations where defending their honor would bring more dishonor in the long run, they suffered in silence.

Join me over there as I talk about Reconciliation.

The school year is wrapping up. I’m finishing my tenth year of homeschooling. This is also the second year that my oldest has been in public school and the first year that my middle child has been in public school. This is the time of year that I tend to take stock.

Since I have kids in both schooling situations, I sometimes feel like a woman without a country. I get frustrated when homeschool proponents act as if nothing good can come out of public schools, but I get angry when public school proponents act so surprised that my previously homeschooled kids can function so well, both academically and socially, in the public school setting (I’m looking at you, homeroom teacher). In other words, I’ve heard both sides trash talk the other, and I think both sides are wrong. Having a foot in each world has given me a few opinions.

My situation is homeschool and public school. Private or Christian school is another middle ground that has its own advantages and disadvantages. Since I have no experience with Christian school, I’m leaving it out of this discussion. I’m also looking at this from the view of the Christian parent, because that’s what I am. And like everything else, your experience my vary from mine. I’m not putting these thoughts out there as the final word on anything, just discussing some things that I’ve noticed. If these things don’t apply to you, feel free to discard them and move on. But you may want to at least think about them.

1. Good kids emerge from all schooling situations (or, bad kids emerge from all schooling situations)

Homeschooling is no guarantee of righteousness. Nor does sending your kids to public school guarantee that your kid will be a light to the world. In other words, raising kids is devoid of guarantees. Yes, there are principles we should follow and choices that are clearly more wise than others, but there is no formula for raising the perfect child.

I know of kids who accepted Christ early and never strayed from the path. I also know kids who rejected everything their parents held dear (and broke their parents hearts). I know people faithfully serving Christ who became believers at all different life stages. Two of the most faithful kids in our youth group are only there because a friend invited them to a youth activity. Some of our youth leaders (and some of our pastors) didn’t become Christians until they were adults.

I don’t say this to encourage parents to become lax in their parenting, but to remind them (and myself) that salvation is a work of the Holy Spirit. I encounter so many ideas that imply, either deliberately or indeliberately, that raising “good” children is merely a matter of following a certain formula. God can work in those situations too, but we set ourselves up for failure if we think our children’s righteousness is anything we did or didn’t do.

2. The public school can do some things better than you (or, you can do some things better than the public school)

In the past week I’ve attended a public school track meet, band concert, and a choir concert. All of those are things I could not have duplicated in my homeschool community. Now, before you write me about your awesome homeschool sports team or band (or community sports team or band), please remember that those activities, while certainly possible, require a commitment of time and money from parents and/or volunteers, not to mention a pretty large community to draw from. For a lot of us, that’s not our reality.

It is the same thing with education. Some of the classes in the public school are doing a far better job than I could do at home. Some of them are doing a far poorer job than I can do at home. I am quite glad that I am not the one setting up the science experiments or explaining how to factor polynomials. I’m also sad that my kids would be reading a whole lot more books if they were still home with me.

It may be that the advantages of homeschool so drastically outweigh the benefits of public school that it’s an easy decision for you, but please own that. It may be that homeschooling your kid would be so difficult, stressful, or such an impediment for a good relationship with your child that it’s not worth it. Please own that, too. In other words, if you’ve settled your family’s schooling decision in your own mind, slamming somebody else’s choice will not make your choice more right. It may hurt someone who really needs your support. It also may make you look like a jerk.

3. All mothers have regrets

Every mother of an adult child has regrets. Every one. I’m very grateful that God uses our mistakes for his glory, because otherwise I’d be sunk. So would you. In fact, if I ever did encounter a mother who thinks she did everything correctly, or that her kids turned out well solely because of what she did, I’d assume she was in denial. I know mothers who are glad they homeschooled but can see a few things that they could have done better. I know mothers who sent their kids to public school who wish they could go back and pull them out. In my two oldest, I can see a few areas where having them at home in the early years benefited them. I also see some areas where my weaknesses magnified weak areas of their own.

4. All mothers (and people in general) have to guard against pride

One of my kids should have been sent to school at least a year sooner. There are a lot of reasons why it worked out this way, but one of them is that I wasn’t ready to admit it was time. That’s pride. When homeschooling moms pump me for information about the bad, scandalous things going on in the public schools, that’s pride. When public school parents scoff at “weird, backwards homeschoolers,” that’s pride.

As Christian parents, we should all be on the same team. We should want everyone’s kids, regardless of their home and school situation, to walk with the Lord. If you catch yourself delighting in seeing another kid stumble because it makes you feel better about what you’re doing, you’ve slipped into a very dark place, and you need to repent. Even if you don’t delight in another child’s struggle, but merely think that it could never happen to you because of something you’re doing, you may be standing on the edge of a precipice. Our first thought should always be “there but for the grace of God go I,” not “God, I thank you that I am not like other men.” (Luke 18:11)

Remember who is really in control

God has been good to me. I love my kids, and it’s fun watching them blossom into young adults. They’re also all sinners. (They also read this blog. Hello, sinful children.) I pray for them a lot. The verdict is still out on whether they’ll grow up to be happy, productive adults who walk with the Lord, but I have great reason to hope. I hope you do as well, regardless of how your kids are being educated.

A court guardian was appointed to oversee the care of the dogs. The Washington Post followed up on the status of the dogs on July 8, 2008, a year after Vick was charged. PETA, the Humane Society, Reverend Al Sharpton, and Russell Simmons jointly stated:

Today, we sound a clarion call to all people: Stand up for what is right, and speak out against what is wrong. Dogfighting is unacceptable. Hurting animals for human pleasure or gain is despicable. Cruelty is just plain wrong.

[Source]

In Pennsylvania, another trial is underway. This one, though, is not getting as much attention. Aside from this op-ed from USA Today, the national mainstream media has been mostly quiet.

What’s the story here? Kermit Gosnell is on trial for the death of one of his patients during a botched abortion. This has brought to light the horrific, gruesome practices that occurred in his clinic. Babies were sometimes born alive. In one instance the baby was even screaming. Gosnell’s response to this “complication” was to snip the babies’ spinal cords with scissors.

Chilling, isn’t it. And yet the national media isn’t talking about it.

While I was in pharmacy school, I worked at a children’s hospital with a level 3 neonatal intensive care unit. I’ve seen hundreds of pre-term babies. I’ve watched medical professionals go to heroic lengths to try to save them. I’ve seen parents rejoice for the babies who grew and strengthened, and weep for the babies whose lives slipped away.

What’s the difference between the babies in the NICU and the babies in Gosnell’s clinic? Since Gosnell is aborting past 24 weeks gestation, it’s not gestational age. The babies in the NICU had parents who wanted them. The hospital I worked at cared for people from all socioeconomic backgrounds, but most of the babies had two present parents, and at least one parent was employed. In other words, the babies in the NICU had someone willing to fight for them. Isn’t the American way to speak and fight for those who have no voice and no advocates?

We live in a society where the mistreatment of animals causes more outrage that the murder of babies with a pair of scissors. Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs. My two dogs are sitting next to me right now. But I think we can agree that babies come before dogs.

And though I am opposed to abortion at all stages, I hope that even those who disagree with me can see that late-term abortions are wrong. Any quick perusal of a NICU will show you these are human babies with a will to live. This is a major human rights issue. Trying to couch it as reproductive rights is monstrous. We can hammer out the issue of first trimester abortion later on. Let’s react to this first.

Finally, I’m a little uncomfortable writing about this because I realize I’m indicting myself. The reason that these atrocities are occurring is because people like me haven’t stepped up to help these women. I’ve given birth to three children. By 24 weeks the mother has been feeling the baby moving in her body. She knows that’s a living thing inside her. A woman would have to feel desperate to abort at that point.

But isn’t the media supposed to show us these things? Aren’t they supposed to show how we as a society have failed so that we can do better?

Lord have mercy on us all.

8 Reasons for the Media Blackout on Kermit Gosnell

WPost reporter explains her personal Gosnell blackout

“House of Horrors” Trial

Here’s what I mean by small:

Sunday this went quite smoothly: little plane, big plane, Orlando. Boom. But Wednesday? Not so much.

Severe weather was approaching St. Louis when I landed. I called my husband. Should I cancel my ticket for the commuter plane? Should he drive up and get me? We decided I could probably beat the weather, so I just stayed with my original plan. (I’ve since decided that neither of us has a future in meteorology.) I checked in and went to the gate. Then things got interesting.

The pilot came out and talked to us (I told you this was a small operation). First we were going to take off early and beat the storm (when you only have four passengers and they’re all there, you can do these things). But then the airport was put under a tornado warning, so we had to evacuate to the bathrooms/storm shelter. Then the flight was delayed to allow the storm to pass. Finally it was canceled.

When you read it, it sounds straightforward, but that last paragraph covers several hours of waiting and wondering. In that kind of downtime, when I don’t have much else to think about, besides, you know, the airport speakers announcing that tornadoes are in the area, my mind can go down some unpleasant trails.

I’m not scared of airplanes or dying, but I do want to stick around as long as I can for the sake of the people who love me. All my options had potential danger. I didn’t want my husband driving in a storm. I didn’t want my kids home alone in a storm. I didn’t want to get on that tiny airplane. Staying in St. Louis didn’t feel particularly dangerous, I just didn’t want to.

Some Bible teachers talk about receiving “signs” from God that they subjectively interpret. I used to fall into this way of thinking. I have since learned that not only is this unhealthy for people with imaginations as vivid as mine (many of my premonitions are wrong), it’s also unscriptural. People in the Bible knew they were hearing from God, they were not required to ponder what the crushed rose on the airport floor was to signify.

My favorite session of the conference was by Nancy Guthrie: “False Comfort and Faulty Assumptions: Confronting Misbeliefs in the Midst of Grief.” I went to learn how to help other people who are grieving. I didn’t know I would apply it before I got home. She discussed the guilt people feel after a loss. They think that they should have seen it coming, and wonder if only they had _________ (got their loved one to a doctor, noticed the symptoms, kept them at home, etc.), their loved one would still be alive. She emphasized that the span of our lives is set by a sovereign God; the means of death is incidental.

That’s where I decided to rest. I mean, which is wiser? To decide based on subjective feelings (and the radar I pull up on my smart phone), or trust the pilot who watches the radar for a living (and wants to live just as much as I do)? Whatever the trip’s outcome, God was not going to be surprised, wishing I had figured out what he was trying to tell me.

In the end, I got a ride with a local company that shuttles people to and from the airport (which I would have done in the first place had it occurred to me). I walked in my front door at one o’clock in the morning, four hours later than I planned.

And I am grateful. I am grateful for the conference and for wise teachers like Nancy Guthrie. I am grateful for modern radar. I am grateful for cell phones (I remember how long pay phone lines in airports could be.) I am grateful to be home. And I am grateful for our sovereign God who holds all our days in his hands.

Drinking…coffee.

Eating…sausage.

Recovering…from a great weekend with family. I got to see two of my three sisters, six of my nine nieces and nephews, and three of my six great-nieces and nephews. (Got all that?) (Edited to add: also saw numerous aunts, uncles, cousins, and a couple of childhood friends. Not to mention MY PARENTS, which is a given, seeing as how I was at their house.)

Thinking…of my sister, whose trip home is about four times longer than mine. As tired as I feel today, I’m sure she’s four times more tired.

Excited…about The Gospel Coalition Conference, both for the conference itself and the chance to see friends and colleagues.

Wondering…if I’ll get through my “to-do” list before the conference. The closer it gets, the longer the list grows.

Hoping…that “taxes” gets crossed off that list in the next couple of days. Why do these big conferences always occur when I’m working on taxes? Why do I wait until the week before these big conferences to do my taxes?

Thankful…that my husband is taking on my role as daily activities coordinator (i.e. getting the kids where they need to be) while I’m gone.

Reading…The Cross of Christ by John Stott. I started it last week, then forgot to take it with me over the weekend. I just finished reading a book that will be released early this summer. I loved it. You’ll hear more about it later, I promise.

Also excited…about the new women’s channel at The Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood. I was thrilled to be asked to contribute.

Trying…to “use my time more wisely.” I always got a star on this in grade school. What happened? I remember my fourth grade teacher telling a boy that wasted time is the one thing you can never get back. I remember feeling quite pleased with my time management skills at the time. Believe it or not, blogging actually helps this. When I’m deliberate about posting, it primes the pump for the “have to” writing.

Thinking…that getting through my to-do list means I need to get up and start doing things. Have a happy April!

In the irrationality that you only encounter in dreams, I didn’t call the police. The people who had hit his car came by and told me the car had been sitting in the road when they hit it. I helped them push it back to the driveway. Then I went out to eat with one of my sisters and her husband. (Yes, I know that seems odd. Remember—a dream.)

The entire dream (and it was a long and involved one. I’m sparing you a lot of detail), I felt panic and dread. I continually thought, “What am I going to do if he doesn’t come back? What am I going to tell the kids? What am I going to do without him?”

Then I woke up. And there he was, in the flesh, asking me about our weekend plans and looking for his black shirt. I like to think I’m glad to see him every morning, but I was especially glad today.

I’ve been told the resurrection story hundreds of times. Even back in the days of flannel graph, watching the Sunday School teacher move the stone away from the tomb, and seeing Mary in the garden encountering her Lord, I’ve known how it ends.

I’m not saying we should avoid telling our kids the stories of the Bible to keep them from getting stale, but those of us who know the stories probably need to work harder to think through their meaning.

The relief we feel when waking up from a bad dream is just a taste of the relief and joy the disciples felt.  We also should be joyful when we contemplate the resurrection. My nightmare of losing my husband didn’t turn out to be true, and I was relieved. The empty tomb ensures that rather than facing a hopeless eternity dead in my sins, I have the promise of eternal life. It truly is the best news there is.

Lore Ferguson’s writing is a new discovery for me, but I’ve loved everything of hers I’ve read. I even want to have my picture taken in a field of wildflowers, because maybe if our blog photos look alike my writing will look like hers (that makes perfect sense inside my head, by the way). I loved her post Who Will Teach the Women Who Want to Be Taught? when it first appeared on Project TGM. The Gospel Coalition liked it too.

The Domestic Kingdom blog is a daily read for me, but somehow I missed this one when it first appeared. I providentially found it there the other day as I was absently clicking around links: Unanswered prayers and adultery. It’s not about marital adultery, but adultery against God. And it’s very convicting.

My husband and I both got progressive lenses recently. His text to me after leaving the optometrist was, “Fool, take off the glasses and come home.” Ha!