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One Marble At A Time by Autumn Ward  So I’ve started this blog post like 14 different ways (not exaggerating). It just might be the most challenging one yet. Once you know what it’s about maybe you’ll understand why.
I’ve been told there are 936 weeks in the life of a child from birth to 18. We have a visual for those weeks here at Orange in the form of a jar filled with 936 marbles. The idea is that when you count the weeks you have left with a kid, you stand a better chance of making your weeks count. As you take one marble out of the jar each week, the marbles begin going down, you see what you have left… you get the idea. I have 3 kids and the jar of my first-born has 4 marbles in it. One. Two. Three. Four. Four marbles. A cap and gown. A prom tux. Graduation announcements . . . All reminders that there’s not much time left before the infant that entered my home 18 years ago will soon be leaving as a man. It’s not that I’m sad really. I imagine I’m feeling close to what a person feels like when . . . a great life work is coming to a close. the company that was once a dream is now making a profit. the book has been written and the first copy is in-hand. a doctorate is framed and hung on the wall. These are dreams placed in someone’s heart that they . . . acted on, poured their life into, made their biggest investments in, and waited years for a return that was never guaranteed. Dreams this big leave you totally depleted and yet full in the most satisfying way. It’s your passion. It’s what you sacrifice for. It’s what keeps you up at night. It’s what drives you in every decision you make. It’s what will take you to the edge of sanity and make you question why God ever thought you could do this. It will expose every flaw you possess and bring out heroic qualities you never imagined lived within you. That’s what parenting—and my family—has been for me. It will forever be my greatest life work. It makes me want to cry and cheer all at the same time when I look at my son. Being his mom and getting to be a part of him becoming who he is today has been the most amazing experience. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I want to shout, “I did it! I did it! Look what God used me to do! Look at my son! He’s amazing!” (cue the band, parade and confetti) Looking back, I can’t even begin to tell you where all of my 936 marbles went. Some were spent sitting in a rocking chair just staring at his infant face. Others looking for Blue’s Clues, putting Transformers together, listening to him read his first book to me, eating lunch with him at school, going on all those field trips, shopping for cool shirts. talking about girls, talking about God, helping him recover from his first broken heart, letting him chauffeur me around, taking selfies together, getting ready for prom . . . It’s worth pointing out that when I look back, it’s not the “big” moments that I remember most. It’s the smaller everyday moments that stand out. I truly believe the best way to spend your marbles is by simply making yourself available. It’s making the most of the drive to practice. Eating dinner together with no electronic devices. Helping with homework. Playing in the yard. Hosting sleepovers and listening to their stories. We will always be our children’s parents. But things change when they move away. My son will be going away to college soon, He’ll be out on his own, putting to use the years he has spent under our influence. We had our eighteen years, and now it’s time for him to go and be all that God made him to be. After all, that was the plan all along. God used us to help an infant become a man. And not just any man. An amazing man who loves God and loves people. This was the hope—our end in mind—that guided our choices as we spent our marbles. It’s what helped us stay focused. Listen, parenting is hard. It is a culmination of your worst and best moments. One day you’re speaking wisdom in love and the next you’re yelling in anger. Some of your marbles will be spent restoring a relationship while others will be simply playing in a sandbox. Both are needed. The point is to imagine the end, and make the 936 weeks you have with your child count. Because I’m telling you, it will feel like there’s a hole in the bottom of your jar, but there’s not. Time just really does go by that fast, and before you know it you’ll look over and see 4 marbles sitting there. Now, go be an amazing parent. You’ve got this! One marble at a time. About the Author: Autumn Ward writes for the First Look preschool curriculum and is the Creative Director for Parent Cue Initiatives at Orange. She is the author of “The Christmas Story“, a preschool rhyming board book. Autumn believes every parent can be a spiritual hero in their child’s life and it’s never too soon to begin sharing God’s story of love with them. She and her husband, Chad, live in Cumming, GA with their two teenage daughters, Sarah and Anna. Their son, Joseph, has left the nest and is a student at the University of Georgia. You can find Autumn on Twitter, @autumnrebekah.
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Why Your Kids Need Five Other Adults in Their Lives by Carey Nieuwho  I have something like 1,300 contacts in my phone. No doubt, 1,300 is a crazy number. You might have double that, or half that. It’s just the world we live in.
But even if you only had 100, you wouldn’t really know each of them well. Not deeply. Not personally. You couldn’t. Our relational span just isn’t that big. But there’s also a “favorites list” on my phone, as there probably is one on yours. On that list are the people who are one touch-of-the-screen away from a call or a text. My favorites list is much shorter. In fact, there are less that twenty people on that list. If I were to get even more granular, there are really only about five that I call or text all the time. These are the handful of people closest to me. These five know me inside out…my good points and not so good ones. My dreams and my struggles. My favorite and least favorite things. They’re the ones who are not only great friends, but great advisors. I’m sure you’ve got those people too. But do your kids? When your kids need to talk, who do they talk to? I mean beyond their friends and beyond you as a parent? Friends are of limited help; sometimes the last thing a 16-year-old needs is advice from another 16-year-old. And sometimes the last person they want to talk to is a parent. I’m sure there are parents who say, “my kid will talk to me.” But let me ask you something, did you tell your parents everything? Exactly!. So who do they go to? To whom can they turn? I dream of a culture in which every child has five adults, other than their parents, they can talk to about the important stuff. Like school. And girls. And parents. And the future. And God. And faith. And their problems. If you were fortunate when you were growing up, you might have had someone you could talk to other than your mom or dad about the big stuff and the little stuff. Maybe it was a coach who took an interest in you, a teacher, a neighbor, a grandparent, or an uncle who always seemed to have the time for you. If you had someone like that. you know what a difference those relationships can make. That’s why I wanted my kids to have at least… five other adults in their life guiding them and giving input. five people who know their hopes and dreams, five people who know their quirks and good points. five people they can talk to honestly about what’s really going on in their lives. five people who can offer wisdom when life gets confusing. five people who care about them and pray for them. My question is simple: who are your kids’ five? Who will they text and who will they call when they don’t know what to do? If you don’t know who those five are, you’re not alone. But you can change that. Soon. I would encourage you to spend some time over the next month identifying people your kids can build a trusting relationship with. My guess is between small group leaders, neighbors, family friends, uncles, aunts, grandparents, coaches and teachers, you will find a few who will be willing to spend a little one on one time with your child periodically. Ask them if they’ll spend some time getting to know your child or teen, and even pray for them regularly. And then watch what happens. If every child and teen ends up with five adults on their phone’s favorite list, we might indeed be raising a wider, more secure, more grounded, more Christ-centered, more joyful generation than we’ve seen in a long time. And if you’re still not convinced, I have a simple question. Don’t you wish there had been five other adults in your life growing up that you had a great relationship with, trusted, and could talk to? I do. Which is why years ago, I sat down with my sons and drafted theirs. It’s a different world out there. And it can be a better world. About the Author: Carey Nieuwhof is the lead pastor of Connexus Church and author of several books, including Parenting Beyond Your Capacity (with Reggie Joiner) and his latest book, "Lasting Impact: 7 Powerful Conversations That Will Help Your Church Grow." Carey speaks to church leaders around the world about leadership and parenting. He writes one of the most widely read church leadership blogs at www.CareyNieuwhof.com and hosts the Carey Nieuwhof Leadership Podcast where he interviews top leaders each week. One Marble At A Time by Autumn Ward  So I’ve started this blog post like 14 different ways (not exaggerating). It just might be the most challenging one yet. Once you know what it’s about maybe you’ll understand why.
I’ve been told there are 936 weeks in the life of a child from birth to 18. We have a visual for those weeks here at Orange in the form of a jar filled with 936 marbles. The idea is that when you count the weeks you have left with a kid, you stand a better chance of making your weeks count. As you take one marble out of the jar each week, the marbles begin going down, you see what you have left… you get the idea. I have 3 kids and the jar of my first-born has 4 marbles in it. One. Two. Three. Four. Four marbles. A cap and gown. A prom tux. Graduation announcements . . . All reminders that there’s not much time left before the infant that entered my home 18 years ago will soon be leaving as a man. It’s not that I’m sad really. I imagine I’m feeling close to what a person feels like when . . . a great life work is coming to a close. the company that was once a dream is now making a profit. the book has been written and the first copy is in-hand. a doctorate is framed and hung on the wall. These are dreams placed in someone’s heart that they . . . acted on, poured their life into, made their biggest investments in, and waited years for a return that was never guaranteed. Dreams this big leave you totally depleted and yet full in the most satisfying way. It’s your passion. It’s what you sacrifice for. It’s what keeps you up at night. It’s what drives you in every decision you make. It’s what will take you to the edge of sanity and make you question why God ever thought you could do this. It will expose every flaw you possess and bring out heroic qualities you never imagined lived within you. That’s what parenting—and my family—has been for me. It will forever be my greatest life work. It makes me want to cry and cheer all at the same time when I look at my son. Being his mom and getting to be a part of him becoming who he is today has been the most amazing experience. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I want to shout, “I did it! I did it! Look what God used me to do! Look at my son! He’s amazing!” (cue the band, parade and confetti) Looking back, I can’t even begin to tell you where all of my 936 marbles went. Some were spent sitting in a rocking chair just staring at his infant face. Others looking for Blue’s Clues, putting Transformers together, listening to him read his first book to me, eating lunch with him at school, going on all those field trips, shopping for cool shirts. talking about girls, talking about God, helping him recover from his first broken heart, letting him chauffeur me around, taking selfies together, getting ready for prom . . . It’s worth pointing out that when I look back, it’s not the “big” moments that I remember most. It’s the smaller everyday moments that stand out. I truly believe the best way to spend your marbles is by simply making yourself available. It’s making the most of the drive to practice. Eating dinner together with no electronic devices. Helping with homework. Playing in the yard. Hosting sleepovers and listening to their stories. We will always be our children’s parents. But things change when they move away. My son will be going away to college soon, He’ll be out on his own, putting to use the years he has spent under our influence. We had our eighteen years, and now it’s time for him to go and be all that God made him to be. After all, that was the plan all along. God used us to help an infant become a man. And not just any man. An amazing man who loves God and loves people. This was the hope—our end in mind—that guided our choices as we spent our marbles. It’s what helped us stay focused. Listen, parenting is hard. It is a culmination of your worst and best moments. One day you’re speaking wisdom in love and the next you’re yelling in anger. Some of your marbles will be spent restoring a relationship while others will be simply playing in a sandbox. Both are needed. The point is to imagine the end, and make the 936 weeks you have with your child count. Because I’m telling you, it will feel like there’s a hole in the bottom of your jar, but there’s not. Time just really does go by that fast, and before you know it you’ll look over and see 4 marbles sitting there. Now, go be an amazing parent. You’ve got this! One marble at a time. About the Author: Autumn Ward writes for the First Look preschool curriculum and is the Creative Director for Parent Cue Initiatives at Orange. She is the author of “The Christmas Story“, a preschool rhyming board book. Autumn believes every parent can be a spiritual hero in their child’s life and it’s never too soon to begin sharing God’s story of love with them. She and her husband, Chad, live in Cumming, GA with their two teenage daughters, Sarah and Anna. Their son, Joseph, has left the nest and is a student at the University of Georgia. You can find Autumn on Twitter,@autumnrebekah. Embracing What’s To Come by Sarah Anderson  I remember being told from day one of parenting, that the years would go by fast. That I should be “numbering my days.” And like all mothers, I accepted the nostalgic platitude, and then went about worrying how I would make it through the next 24 hours—the immediacy of the uncharted days before me feeling more pressing than the far off “some day” when my kids would be independent and self-sufficient.
I have heard all the advice and been offered all the insights. And still, at the time, they didn’t seem quite tangible. Until now. Now, as we register our oldest for kindergarten, as we are six months out from entering a new season, when we are on the brink of big change. Now, I am realizing more than ever, my days really are numbered. The closer I get to Asher starting school, the more I feel like every moment matters and I find myself wondering if I did enough in the years leading to this one. I am tempted to look backwards at how I’ve done so far. Numbered days have a way of doing that to you. The passing of time will make us panicky about how much we have left and insecure about the time that’s already passed. A couple of weeks ago, the Christian calendar entered the season of Lent. Traditionally, this is a time, like Advent with Christmas, where our days are numbered and leading towards a marked event. Unlike Advent, Lent is more nostalgic, more internally reflective. It too is leading to something, but the road is marked with sacrifice and contemplation. Lent prompts us to reflect on who we are and what needs to change. It causes us to look backwards and do a self-inventory, to be honest about where we have fallen short, and to be transparent about the parts of us that got the better of us—but shouldn’t have. But if we aren’t careful, Lent can turn into a morose miserable time so focused on what we are giving up, on the ashes of our lives, that we forget Easter is just around the corner. In the same way, numbering our days in parenting has the potential to trap us in our expectations of who we should have been without looking forward with expectancy to what could be. It keeps us looking backwards with nostalgia rather than forward with willingness. And if we aren’t careful, this can ruin us. Looking back we can make ourselves miserable thinking, “I should have been more patient, I should have been less frustrated, I should have spent more time playing instead of scolding, helping instead of critiquing. I should have read more, prayed more, played more catch, and just had more fun.” And although reflection can be good, it cannot be where we stay. Self-inventory at Lent isn’t the end of the story. Easter is. Numbered days aren’t the end of our parenting story. Embracing what’s next is. We aren’t numbering our days in our parenting so we can beat ourselves up about the job we should’ve been doing. We number our days so we can journey forward, hopeful that a God who makes resurrection possible can make something beautiful with what we have left—and what is coming next. Easter is around the corner on our calendar. Change is around the corner in our house. Easter is a celebration of newness. And change can be too. Yes it’s hard. No, it doesn’t feel like a celebration. The emotion I feel over my oldest starting school six months from now may be more close to irrational than I am comfortable admitting. But I will look at the time I have left not as a sentence, but as an invitation. An invitation for a new start in a new stage. Beauty can come from ashes. What happens next can always be better than what’s happened before. And I know that if I can learn to be present in the days I have left, I am doing the best job at preparing for the days I have coming. About the Author: Sarah Anderson writes for the XP3 student curriculum at Orange. She is married to Rodney Anderson and is mom to two beautiful bouncy boys, Asher and Pace. Follow her on Twitter @sarahb_anderson. How to Respond When Your Child Asks You Questions You Can’t Answer by Carey Nieuwhof  So your kid comes up to you and asks, “Dad, how do we know there’s a God?”
And you . . . freeze. You say something like “Because I believe there’s a God,” or “We just know,” or “Because there is,” or “Because the Bible says God exists.” Then your kid does what every kid does: he asks you another question. A tough one. Like Why? The little-kid routine of asking why seventeen times in a row can really expose how little you know as an adult. Then, in your mind, you fast forward a couple of years, and your middle-schooler is asking about dinosaurs, the Big Bang, and Confucius, and you start to have a nervous breakdown. So, how do you respond? Here are five principles that have helped me navigate faith and questions not only from my kids but also from my experience as a pastor of a local church: 1. Don’t assume curiosity is skepticism. One of the impulses every Christian parent feels is that questions automatically lead to disbelief. No, they don’t. Not automatically. Actually, great questions can lead to deeper belief. But it’s just way too easy to assume that curiosity is skepticism. Curiosity is not skepticism. It’s curiosity. 2. Don’t dismiss the question with trite answers. One of the worst things you can do is answer any faith question with a simplistic answer like, “Well, we just have to believe,” or “Because it’s true.” I’ve done that before. Not helpful. Your eight-year-old suspects two things when you answer that way: Christianity doesn’t stand up to questions or advanced thinking. There are actually no answers to his question. Both are mistakes. 3. Don’t over-answer the question. An equally bad response is to show up the next day with a dozen theology textbooks and a scheduled Skype interview with one of the world’s foremost Old Testament professors. That’s a bit of overkill for your eight-year-old or even your teenager. So, what should you do? Answer the question at the level the questioner is asking it. Your daughter may just want to know that you believe, and an honest, “You know honey, there are a lot of reasons to believe in God—I’ve experienced Him myself, personally…and that’s one of the reasons I believe,” might be a great response. Your daughter might just say, “Thanks.” Or she might ask another question, which you could then answer. In the teen years, you might do a Bible or book study together. Don’t under-answer a question, or over-answer it. 4. Don’t assume answers will satisfy the questioner. I have a seminary degree. And a law degree. I can research things half decently. And I’m an okay preacher. I’ve done sermons where I have researched my head off and preached my heart out on the subject of why a good God allows bad things to happen, only to have someone ask me a few days later “So…why do you think God allows bad things to happen?” In those moments, I want to scream. But those moments teach me something. Often, people aren’t actually looking for an intellectual answer. Instead, their question is coming out of their personal story. So, flip the conversation. Question the questioner as Ravi Zacharias says. Ask them why they ask. The person asking the question might tell you his wife is sick and they can’t find a cure. Or your third-grader son might say, “I want to know why that one kid in our class gets picked on all the time.” Then go have a conversation about that. 5. Make your home a great place to raise doubts. Remember that your kids will eventually have doubts. Why? Because you do. Because I do. Because we all do. Faith is not the absence of doubts. It’s the presence of belief in the midst of doubt. In her research, Dr. Kara Powell has discovered that the biggest reason kids, who grew up in the church, leave the church is not doubt. It’s unexpressed doubt. If you make your home a place where questions aren’t welcome, your kids are going to take their questions elsewhere. And where will they take them? Probably to a place that won’t give them the answers you’re hoping for. So, decide ahead of time as a parent that you won’t freak out when your kid questions you and questions God. Or your teenager tells you that Christianity isn’t different than any other religion. Thank them for the question. Explore it with them. Ask them questions. And reach out to a wider circle of influence that can help them process what they’re going through. Make your home a safe place where doubts can be expressed. You just might foster belief as a result. Those are five things that have helped me navigate the tension every parent and every church leader feels. What’s helped you? Let us know in the comments below! About the Author: Carey Nieuwhof is the lead pastor of Connexus Church and author of several books, including Parenting Beyond Your Capacity (with Reggie Joiner) and his latest book, "Lasting Impact: 7 Powerful Conversations That Will Help Your Church Grow." Carey speaks to church leaders around the world about leadership and parenting. He writes one of the most widely read church leadership blogs at www.CareyNieuwhof.com and hosts the Carey Nieuwhof Leadership Podcast where he interviews top leaders each week. Tribes, Fun to Talk About, Hard to Actually Do
I like to think I am a brave parent, right up until the moment I actually have to be brave. I talk a good game, know most of the buzz words and occasionally act like I have a few things figured out. All of this works pretty well right up until the moment I actually have to parent my kids. Case in point, the lock in. Recently, my church held a lock in (or all nighter) that my oldest daughter wanted to go to. It was progressive, meaning they started at a bowling alley and then worked their way across the city from one fun event to another from 7PM until 7AM. My wife was all for it and I thought I would be too. As a kid, I loved lock ins. As a parent, I knew the importance of giving my daughter freedom to do things like this with her friends. But I was still nervous. Widening the circle of relationships, influences and experiences is fun to talk about but hard to actually do. It wasn’t necessarily that I feared my daughter’s safety, but I felt like we were sending her out into the unknown. At one point, I even talked about having my wife go as a chaperone. Fortunately, Jenny talked me out of this. But, the truth is, as you try to widen the circle with your kids, you might experience a surprising amount of self resistance. How do you combat it? Here are three ways: 1. Remember why you are doing it. Fear likes to focus on the negative, instead, remember the positive impact widening the circle can have for your kids. 2. Be honest about it. Telling Jenny my concerns, even though they were completely unfounded, helped me deal with them. 3. Expect it. Don’t get surprised by your concern, anticipate it and plan for it. The lock in proved to be a huge success in the end. My church did an amazing job and L.E. got to do a month’s worth of fun things in one night with her small group. The circle got wider and maybe this dad even got a little braver letting his oldest daughter grow up a little bit. About the Author: Jon Acuff is the New York Times Bestselling author of 4 books. He lives in Nashville, TN with his wife and two daughters. Read more of his work at Acuff.me, StuffChristiansLike.net and follow him on Twitter @JonAcuff. |
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