Scraps of Sunshine

There was a time when I thought my mind was replete with original knowledge, sparkling with my own personal bits of wit and wisdom. Now that may be so in small amounts but as time goes on I am coming to know how very little I do know and how very much I need to learn....

I spied a few scattered gray hairs on my dark head and I realized how very little that really means. If I say I am old that is laughable, merely a testimony to how very young I am. Those who are old do not profess their agedness, they simply are. It is the young who so desire the wisdom and experience that comes with age.

I have long struggled with being genuinely honest. Fearing that I would step on toes or hurt someone's feelings I have lied or balked or worse yet, retreated from any sort of response. As though a new window is being opened and fresh air flooding a once dank space I am coming to see that I need no longer fear another's bruised emotions. What a new energy this has given to forming friendships here. If I truly care about someone I will tell them the truth, not what they want to hear or what makes them feel good. And I must in turn allow them to do the same for me... That is a mark of an authentic relationship.

I used to be deeply concerned with making sure my children did everything I said immediately without any question. If they hesitated to ask why or to try to explain then I was quick to mete out consequences. And somehow that translated into how I related with God. I didn't feel safe asking Him why or taking a moment to try to share my heart with Him. I was anxious, full of angst and tossed to and fro, unsure of who I was or where I was going. All I knew was obey without question. But as my heart opened wider to my children I came to see the truth of the verse that "we are but sheep"... Just as my God has compassion on my weaknesses, my failings, has time for my questions, I can give that same regard to my little ones. In the end what is important is that they understand fully what choice they are making, the choice to follow and obey. Blind obedience will not teach them how to choose the right road in life. Anyone can demand respect but only love will retain that respect. I would much rather my children have faith in me than fear me...

As the time draws closer for the celebration of celebrations, to honor the gift of the Holy, I bend to ask that He draw me closer to His heart, teach me more of His ways. And I can only pray that as I simply seek to learn from Him I will be able to falteringly at times, faithfully at others, lead my own little ones to Him...

Santa Claus and the Road Through Fairyland

While browsing online today I stumbled on an excellent article by Tony Woodlief of the Washington Post. It succinctly and sweetly sums up our views concerning our children's belief in Santa Claus and the bridge to faith in Christ. I'm posting excerpts of G.K. Chesterton's 'Orthodoxy'(which is an amazing read) followed by a portion of Woodlief's article.

"My first and last philosophy, that which I believe in with unbroken certainty, I learnt in the nursery. I generally learnt it from a nurse; that is, from the solemn and star-appointed priestess at once of democracy and tradition. The things I believed most then, the things I believe most now, are the things called fairy tales.

Fairyland is nothing but the sunny country of common sense. I knew the magic beanstalk before I had tasted beans; I was sure of the Man in the Moon before I
was certain of the moon.

But I deal here with what ethic and philosophy come from being fed on fairy tales. If I were describing them in detail I could note many noble and healthy principles that arise from them.

There is the chivalrous lesson of "Jack the Giant Killer"; that giants should be killed because they are gigantic. It is a manly mutiny against pride as such. For the rebel is older than all the kingdoms,and the Jacobin has more tradition than the Jacobite.

There is the lesson of "Cinderella," which is the same as that of the Magnificat--EXALTAVIT HUMILES. There is the great lesson of "Beauty and the Beast";that a thing must be loved BEFORE it is loveable.

There is the terrible allegory of the "Sleeping Beauty," which tells how the human creature was blessed with all birthday gifts, yet cursed with death;and how death also may perhaps be softened to a sleep.

But I am not concerned with any of the separate statutes of elfland, but with the whole spirit of its law, which I learnt before I could speak,and shall retain when I cannot write. I am concerned with a certain way of looking at life, which was created in me by the fairy tales,but has since been meekly ratified by the mere facts.

This elementary wonder, however, is not a mere fancy derived from the fairy tales; on the contrary, all the fire of the fairytales is derived from this. Just as we all like love tales because there is an instinct of sex, we all like astonishing tales becausethey touch the nerve of the ancient instinct of astonishment.

This is proved by the fact that when we are very young childrenwe do not need fairy tales: we only need tales. Mere life is interesting enough.

A child of seven is excited by being told that Tommy opened a door and saw a dragon. But a child of three is excited by being told that Tommy opened a door. Boys like romantic tales;but babies like realistic tales--because they find them romantic.In fact, a baby is about the only person, I should think, to whom a modern realistic novel could be read without boring him.

This proves that even nursery tales only echo an almost pre-natal leap of interest and amazement. These tales say that apples were golden only to refresh the forgotten moment when we found that they were green. They make rivers run with wine only to make us remember, for one wild moment, that they run with water. I have said that this is wholly reasonable and even agnostic.

I am all for the higher agnosticism; its better name is Ignorance. We have all read in scientific books, and, indeed, in all romances,the story of the man who has forgotten his name. This man walks about the streets and can see and appreciate everything; only he cannot remember who he is. Well, every man is that man in the story. Every man has forgotten who he is. One may understand the cosmos,but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star.

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God; but thou shalt not know thyself. We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. We have all forgotten what we really are. All that we call common sense and rationality and practicality and positivism only means that for certain dead levels of our life we forget that we have forgotten. All that we call spirit and art and ecstasy only means that for one awful instant we remember that we forget.

This is the next milestone to be definitely marked on our road through fairyland. And the strongest emotion was that life was as precious as it was puzzling. It was an ecstasy because it was an adventure; it was an adventure because it was an opportunity. The goodness of the fairy tale was not affected by the fact that there might be more dragons than princesses; it was good to be in a fairy tale.The test of all happiness is gratitude; and I felt grateful, though I hardly knew to whom. Children are grateful when Santa Claus puts in their stockings gifts of toys or sweets. Could I not be grateful to Santa Claus when he put in my stockings the gift of two miraculous legs? We thank people for birthday presents of cigars and slippers. Can I thank no one for the birthday present of birth? " (G.K.)

" I suspect that fairy tales and Santa Claus do prepare us to embrace the ultimate Fairy Tale, the one Lewis believed was ingrained in our being. Christian apologists like Lewis and Chesterton embraced them, precisely because to embrace Christian dogma is to embrace the extrarational. As a parent, I believe (with the older apologists) that it's essential to preserve a small, inviolate space in the heart of a child, a space where he is free to believe impossibilities.

The fantasy writer George MacDonald -- author of "The Light Princess" and "The Golden Key" -- whom Lewis esteemed as one of his greatest inspirations, suggested that it is only by gazing through magic-tinted eyes that one can see God: "With his divine alchemy," MacDonald wrote, "he turns not only water into wine, but common things into radiant mysteries." The obfuscating spirit of the "commonplace," meanwhile, is "ever covering the deep and clouding the high.

Oxford University Press recently announced that it will be dropping words like "dwarf," "elf" and "devil" from its children's dictionary to make room for words like "blog," "Euro," and "biodegradable" -- a blow not just to language but to the imagination. I'm sticking with Santa, however, knowing that my children will gradually exchange the fairy tales of youth for a faith -- I hope -- in mysteries that even diehard Christians seem increasingly embarrassed to admit as such. In our house, at least, there's no shame in believing the impossible.

Puritans and atheists alike may disapprove, but our home is filled with fairy tales and fiction books, in hopes that the magic sprinkled across their pages will linger in the hearts of our children. In this we side with Chesterton, who wrote: "I left the fairy tales lying on the floor of the nursery, and I have not found any books so sensible since." (T.W.)

Gazing

A new year is coming. Bright, fresh, holding limitless possibilities and potential for new growth.
It doesn't quite feel like Christmas here yet. Maybe it's because the weather has been 60-70 degrees the past two weeks.

Natalie and Adam have thrown themselves joyously into celebrating this most wondrous of holidays. Every night when Tim pulls into the driveway from work they rush him to plug in the outside lights and stand gazing in wonder at the brightly lit icicles and glowing snowman and rainbow clusters on eaves and corners.

They love the advent wreath and the songs and verses and lighting the candles each evening after dinner. Tim cleverly constructed a wreath out of almost nothing and I'm sure it will be cherished for every advent hereafter. I get choked up hearing their little warbling voices singing "O Come Let us Adore Him" or as Natalie believes it to be, O Come Let Us Side Door Him.

Every morning they clamber up on the couch to touch each and every ornament on the tree and attempt to wrangle off some M&M character lights to play with.

Natalie is becoming more and more of a little mother everyday. She follows Adam everywhere, picks up after him, grabs his hand if she thinks he is straying too far in the wrong direction. "Now you listen to me Moe (she'll say), you need to obey." Large portions of my day are spent telling Natalie to stop ordering him around. But the next moment she will be tenderly wiping his face or asking him curiously, "Do you like cars Adam?" "Uh Huh", he'll answer. "Mom, Adam says he does like cars!", she'll yell to me and they will both laugh and she will put her arm around him as they munch their crackers.

She is so full of compassion. She apologizes to Buster for hurting his feelings. She asks me if I've had enough kisses to fill up my heart and tells me when she hasn't had enough to fill up her heart yet. Her favorite part of bedtime is singing "You Are My Sunshine."


Adam explores his world through smell and taste. He sniffs new foods and people and books alike. And there is still a part of him that finds it exciting to scoop up some particularly gooey black mud from the back yard and cram it in his mouth. I know, it's utterly disgusting. I spend another large part of my day scooping dirt out of his mouth or chasing him around the yard to keep him from putting it in his mouth. He is still figuring out who he is. He is not yet ready to accept himself as baby or boy or even as a person it appears.The past couple days he has called himself a train and today when I asked him who he is he said, "Snowman". I try not to laugh, he says it so seriously.

Like the other night I was feeding and cuddling him before bed and he started singing, "Jesuh lub lil chi wen", (Jesus Loves the Little Children) and he kept singing that line over and over looking sweetly and intently into my face. I couldn't help it, it was so adorable I broke into a smile and a little giggle and he stopped for a moment and got kind of a hurt look on his face. So I straightened up and thankfully he continued. Before laying him down we sing "You Are My Sunshine" together. He so enjoys joining in on the chorus. The other day in church I heard a loud echo after a praise song had ended and looked down to see Adam singing along with all his heart.


My newest grand idea for our holiday tradition is to build a gingerbread house each year. As usual the ever patient, hard working Tim ended up putting together all the final touches, with the help of our meticulous Natalie and now we have a beautiful house waiting till Christmas arrives. Adam and I helped with candy eating and application and then off we went to the kitchen to make biscuits..his newest obsession being to mix and stir whatever I am baking.

Buster has found his place in our family. Not quite a third child, but certainly a beloved playmate. I have moments of craziness managing the three of them but it all melts away when I see Adam leaning against him whispering, "Doggie Doggie" or Natalie carefully draping plastic bead necklaces around him and squeezing his neck, "I love you" she'll say into his ear.

So as Christmas approaches we are happy, healthy and learning each day how much we need each other and God's hand for each new step.

Cannot wait for Christmas morning. The wide eyed wonder. The piles of wrapping paper all over the floor. The excited giggles and squeals. The awe over the nativity and the blessed old story. Makes me thankful for sacrifices and planning and surprises my parents orchestrated over many Christmases.

Here's to wide eyed wonder. May we never lose that little sparkle in our eyes and spring in our steps. No matter what this life hands us...

Are You There God?

Remember that Judy Blume book, "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret?" That title has been running through my head the past couple days. Maybe because I saw a disturbing SNL skit about it, but more likely because I've been having some trouble listening lately.

Our resident three year old is bright and inquisitive, sometimes driving Mommy to the point of exasperation. I enjoy answering a question or two. Heck I kind of enjoy figuring out a simple straightforward explanation to something rather difficult. I don't mind answering a different question on the same subject. But when it comes to answering the same question OVER and OVER again in a 20 minute period that's where I start to lose tiny valuable pieces of my sanity. It is chipped away slowly with painstaking concentration until lunchtime finds me barely able to babble a question of what drink everyone would like.

I've wondered if I have a particularly small reserve of patience. I have tried many different ways to answer the same question. And yet, the question remains. So the more I've been contemplating and praying and taking deep cleansing breaths something has come to me. Maybe the questions aren't being asked because the answer really matters. Maybe Natalie is asking the questions to make sure I'm here...still present...still listening.

And maybe that's what I need from God more than anything else. I know He cannot answer all my questions to my satisfaction. I know sometimes He will choose not to change something that I've had my heart set on. But I still ask the questions because at the end of the day I just want to know He's there.

We'll Have to Muddle Through Somehow

More and more lately it seems I have been operating without my head on straight. Today it feels as if I haven't had it on at all. I've noticed there is a particular pattern to days with two toddlers and a puppy. There is first a slam bang, breathless, up and down, horrible and terrific all at once day. Really high highs and really low lows. Everything that isn't tied down ends up all over the floor, each other's faces, the dog or most often, all over mommy. This sort of a day happens to be the one which finds me working without that most valuable of all body parts, I'm often nothing more than a headless bundle of emotions. It is at these moments that I must laugh (as Abe Lincoln says) or I will do nothing but weep.

The day that follows this sort of a day is bright and sunny and cheerful. Tempers are even, emotions seem to be still waters and I manage to have a shower, unload and load the dishwasher and complete the laundry in record time. Our resident canine is a saint and Little Jack Horner and Mary Mary Quite Contrary are all that nursery rhyme characters parading as Behnke children should be. The hours pass quickly because we are enjoying our time together. The smooth, unruffled tone of this day prepares me for the one to follow: tempest tossed once more.

After a particularly stressful time at the playground in which both children fell down numerous times, ran into everything possible, scraped and scratched little hands and faces, Natalie even got a case of leash burn from an interesting and painful episode involving an eager dog and an attempt to swing on her belly instead of seated, it was clear it was time to head for the hills, or home as it were.

Back home we came in the midst tears and whines and happily settled into making peppermint bark and chocolate dipped pretzels for Christmas care packages. Nothing a few licks of a chocolate covered spoon can't soothe. That lasted for all of 20 minutes and we were back to square one. I have yet to figure out how to hold and properly soothe two emotion laden toddlers while a 45 pound bassett hound is jumping on my shoulders as well. Maybe I'll never figure that one out.

So..we are down for naps now. The kitchen is littered with the remnants of our candy making, the laundry basket is beyond overflowing and our two bathrooms are desperately in need of a good scrub. So I will take a deep breath, chug a mug of coffee and get going...How much I am looking forward to the promise of a tranquil day tomorrow!

The Show Must Go On

Meet Buster. The newest member of our family. We rescued him from a shelter where he ended up after several hurricanes in Northern North Carolina.

He definitely brings added responsibility but more importantly added joy and exuberance to our boisterous family. I'm perfectly willing to have an extra little body to bathe, take to the potty and play with if he keeps up his end of the deal, to be a loving, faithful playmate and companion to our little ones. He sits patiently watching as they take their bath at night, lays at the foot of their beds for goodnight stories and songs, follows them up on the slides at the playground and lets them lay on him, give him endless bear hugs and tail tugs and even submits to being dressed in baby doll bonnets and bows.

He comes at a time of upheaval and change as we are nearing Tim's deployment and relinquishing hopes of his completion of Sapper school this past month. In a fluke occurrence Tim came down with a condition involving too much protein in his bloodstream which almost caused him to pass out on several occasions and ultimately ended his time at the school. It was a hard hit for he and I both because we had planned and pushed and negotiated family time and training time and excitedly started him off only for it to end before he graduated and received his tab.

A year ago I would have thought, so what? Big deal. But now having experienced a taste of military life and it's trials and triumphs I am fully invested in the importance of this life of ministry and sacrifice for others beyond just our own family.

So here we stand, on the brink of one of the biggest changes in our little family's history, hopeful and sad at the same time. Knowing there will be struggle and heartache, important lessons learned and a greater sense of our deep need for Christ as a daily part of our life.

My goal used to be to avoid hurt and sacrifice at all costs, that it could not be the best thing for me, for my family. But now I see how God uses difficulties and the unknown to fashion me more like His Son, to give me a greater sense of confidence in who He has created me to be, to help me to lighten up, relax and laugh a good deal more. Some things are so much bigger than my control. So why try to avoid and counteract and run from things that are tough. This year apart can break us or make us more of a family. It's all in the perspective and in who has the last word.

"He knows the way that I take and when He has tested me I will come forth as gold."- Job 23:10