Luke gardening

A rebuttal to the rebuttal of "Christian Cleavage"

I’ve been reading this so called debate on “Christian Cleavage,” and I thought perhaps it was time for someone with actual breasts to weigh in. You can read the original rebuttal by Jayson Bradley on Relevant Magazine. 

“I have one breast,” my five year old daughter informed me the other day. In reality she had a kitty stuffed down her shirt. 

“How nice for you,” I replied. “Remeber,” I warned her, “that play is ok at home, but outside of home, it could make people uncomfortable.” 

I have two children under the age of five, a son and a daughter, and in our house we say breast, vagina, and penis. Why? Because shaming our bodies begins much earlier than youth group sex talks. It starts as early as learning the names of body parts. Growing up I didn’t have a vagina or prepubescent breasts. I had “private parts.” And I understand why my parents did it. They wanted me to know that my sexual parts were privately owned and not to be shared. 

My parents were trying to protect us from sexual predators. Today there is increasing thought that “private parts” can enable sexual predators as children can’t identify where they were touched. But that’s not the only reason we don’t say “private parts” in our house. It’s because I don’t want my children growing up feeling that their vagina and penis are shameful beyond words. We don’t give cutsie nicknames either. We use the correct terms for our anatomy, though it occasionally results in surprised stares from strangers if my daughter says, “my vagina hurts.”  

There are many Christians today who believe that their bodies are shameful. In fact, there are some who’ve probably stopped reading this because I used the medical terms vagina, penis, and breasts. And there are others who are only reading this because of it. 

Healthy, mature, Christian men should support the freedom Christ has given to women. They don’t need to limit our polka dots or skirt lengths. A mature Christian woman knows what is appropriate. When I do not dress sexually, I’m telling the world that I know my value. I know who I am in Christ and I refuse to be seen as merely a sexual object. I can dress modestly while still looking attractive because I am unafraid and unashamed of the body that God knit together for me while I was still in my mother’s womb. Because any woman can tell you that a lady can wear all the “right” things and still radiate cheap sexuality. It’s not necessarily how short the skirt line is, it’s what is in her heart that comes out.

However, didn’t Paul say that he wouldn’t eat meat if it caused weaker Christians to falter? I think Jayson is minimizing the struggle that men have in order to push back against the nonsense Christian women go through. He's right to say that noticing cleavage isn't a sin. But as a woman it took me fifteen years of marriage to realize how visual men really are. They are wired that way by God, and while that isn't a bad thing, I feel that women do have a responsibility to protect the weaker sex.

For this very reason my cousin Lee* is in Zanzibar as a missionary and wears very modest clothing and a head scarf because she values sharing Christ more than she values her personal freedom. In America, a culture that is fine with baring every part of a woman’s breast but her nipples, our modesty can speak volumes.

That’s why my daughter can talk openly about breasts at home. She has that freedom to not be ashamed of her body. When we are in public we are more careful. Because we have liberty doesn't mean we are obligated to flaunt it. God forbid that I teach my daughter to use her freedom to cause others to stumble. 

Therefore it’s a team effort. Women, dress as a daughter of Christ and you will never go wrong. Men, submit your eyes to Christ and you will never go wrong. Women, protect men as they struggle with sexuality. Men, don't put restrictions on women that Christ has not. 

Let love guide us in all things, and we will show the world what love and freedom in Christ really looks like. And thanks Jayson Bradley for being unafraid to stick his neck out for women. We need more Christian men like him.

* Lee's name has been changed for her protection.

An Open Letter to Mothers Who Don't Vaccinate

Dear Moms who do not vaccinate your children,

You and I have more in common than you might think. My children are my sun and moon. I know you love your children extravagantly too.  Like me, I believe you would go to any extreme if it could ensure your child a long and safe life. I feel the exact same. Yet on the issue of vaccines, we differ.

I would vaccinate my children if I could. My daughter Grace is currently unvaccinated because I am not given the choice. Grace was diagnosed with a rare form of Leukemia a few weeks after her fourth birthday. It was the day time stood still for my family and me. Because of her cancer she is the most susceptible to catching diseases, the most likely to die from them, yet she is not allowed to have vaccines to prevent them. The irony of the situation is not lost on me. 

Before cancer became a member of our family I was on the fence about vaccines. I have never seen a case of polio or measles but I have seen plenty of children with autism. I was hesitant to trust “traditional medicine” but I was very comfortable using herbal and homeopathic remedies. I even grew our own organic vegetables. It just seemed the claims against vaccines were so accusatory, so loud, so confident. Everyone had an opinion. I didn't know who to trust.

When cancer hit we researched every kind of treatment for Grace. My husband and I decided we would use whatever worked, traditional or alternative, as long as it had documented proof of working consistently. Grace had a 20% chance of survival and we were willing to do whatever it took to get her a cure. We researched herbal remedies, including marijuana. We researched juicing, vitamins, raw foods, cooked foods, essential oils, you name it…no one could prove they consistently cured children of cancer. But chemotherapy did. Dreaded chemotherapy, the treatment we both hate and love, became our answer. It would bring Grace’s survival rate up to 80%. That was the day we decided to start trusting traditional medicine.

But it wasn't just medicine I didn't trust. I thought doctors were “in it for the money” and that they skewed research results in order to get funding from pharmaceutical companies. Now we had to trust doctors for the life of our daughter. Because of cancer we got to know our medical team very intimately. We spent over one hundred days living at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles (not to mention the days we spent there for outpatient treatment). I can’t speak for all doctors, but the doctors and nurses who work at children’s hospitals are there for the kids. Nothing else. They work tirelessly with cranky kids, exhausted parents, and with dying children that the doctors know they shouldn't get emotionally attached to, but they do anyways. Because they love kids.

And after they finished taking care of my daughter for the day, they went home and took care of their own children. They went from being our medical team to family. I found that everything that was said about them was wrong. I discovered that doctors recommend certain medicines for a reason. It’s because they want children to have the best chance at survival and to have healthy and happy lives. They don’t have a hidden agenda. They don’t rely on wishful thinking or hopeful remedies. They use what works. I wouldn't trust doctors to save my life. I trust them even more than that. I daily trust them to save my daughter’s life.

I wouldn't wish what we've gone through on my worst enemy. We saw our daughter too sick to eat, too weak to play, too tired to smile. We spent sleepless nights wondering if we would hear our beautiful daughter’s laugh in the morning. There is no pain like seeing your child suffer while fighting for their life.

Actually…there is one pain worse, and that’s only the anguish of finding out that you could have prevented it. I know I did everything to prevent my daughter from getting cancer and cancer still found her.  I would give anything to have my daughter vaccinated today. I would do anything to spare her from disease.

There are vaccines for your child. You can protect them from having to fight for their lives against life threatening diseases. These diseases are monsters. They steal life from even the bravest and strongest of children.  Please don’t risk your child’s life. You can do what I can’t. You can vaccinate and save your child from suffering or even death.

From one mom to another, if you have the chance to save your child from a life threatening disease, please, please, from the bottom of my heart, please…vaccinate your child.

Very sincerely,

Melissa Bumstead, aka Gracie’s Mommy

Read more about Gracie here: www.TeamGraceEllen.com

Death and Dying

"I'm scared of my toy dying," Grace said the other day while playing with a doll, "just like you were scared of me dying."

That pretty much felt like a punch in the stomach. In times like this I do the S.O.S. prayer. I don't have more time than to pray "save my ship" and get into solving the problem. Thankfully we've been over this topic a few times before, though none so direct. Thankfully God always hears this prayer and gives wisdom "generously to all without finding fault..." James 1:15

I don't want Gracie to be afraid of dying. Death is the reality for all of us and if it comes to Gracie tomorrow or in one-hundred years, I want her to be ready for it. We've let her know that some kids aren't able to beat their cancer. She knows that some kids will die, and have died, from cancer.

It's not to scare her. But I've heard of stories where cancer kids went from sick to actually dying in a sometimes short time. It's not common, but when an infection hits, these kids are literally fighting for their lives. Even the bravest and the strongest may not win their battle. God forbid Grace would die from an infection rapidly taking over her body, but if it did, I wouldn't want the concept of dying be something that we only had an hour to introduce, especially if I were to be near hysterics. Not that we wouldn't encourage her to fight her infection...

Also, I believe that kids are smarter than they let on. They can tell if we're hiding a concept. They also know that if we hide it, then it must be very scary indeed. If death becomes the unmentionable fear, then everyday life would be terrifying once the dots are connected from cancer to death. She would figure it out sooner or later. We didn't want that for Grace.

So I took a deep breath.

"We all die Gracie. Everyone. There were a few times I was worried that you might die," I said, "but I wasn't too scared," I said truthfully.

"Why?" she asked.

"Why? But because of Jesus we have a place called heaven where we won't die anymore. And there's no cancer or pain there. And I know that if you died that Jesus would take care of you and love you. We would be together again there."

In the past Grace has wondered if her toys would be there. I told her they would be. I figure heaven is a place where all our needs are met, so toys would be appropriate. She's also glad to know our two cats Dash and Alex will be there. Heaven isn't a vague, scary, unknown. It's a place very similar to home.

Since that day none of Grace's other toys have died. They go to the hospital often, but they're always healed once Dr. Grace tends to them. And I'm so thankful she's not afraid of dying because only then can you really enjoy living.

I wrote this about death the other day. It's a little wordy, but here it goes:

The process of leaving our mother's wombs is a frightening and painful experience. The transition is abrupt and unexpected. It is a process that leaves us cold, vulnerable, and weak. Yet our pain and effort is small compared to the labor of our mothers who did for us what we could never do for ourselves.

If we had the capacity to remember that day I think we would be deeply traumatized. We would be terrified that perhaps we would be suddenly expelled from this world into another unknown life. And of course, the fear of death is exactly that.

As I daily walk towards that time that I should die I will remember that it is natural that death should be similar to birth. Death is also a relatively short, often painful transition that brings us to life. Eternal life, that is. Yet our suffering and effort is small compared to the painful labors of our Savior Jesus. He did for us what we could never do for ourselves.

When we die and are birthed into heaven, I don't think we will be grieved by the experience. I don't think we'll have any residual trauma. It is likely we will even celebrate that day as our true birthday. For that will be the day we came into the fullness of life.

"Just as Jesus was raised as the first of the harvest, then all who belong to Christ will be raised when he comes back." 1 Cor 15:23

Magic Moments

Today had two magic moments in it. Magic moments are the unexpected events that can’t be planned or even hoped for, they are moments of true and meaningful connection with others. They are spontaneous as a rule. Magic moments are treasures, and even if they seem unimportant to anyone else, they are the small memories that burn bright in your heart all your life and never lose their warmth.

Today I saw Luke when he and Noni came to visit Grace and me at the hospital as a surprise for my birthday. It was so much fun to play with him. But it was later over the phone that my magic moment with him happened. I asked him if he ate dinner and he said he had soup. I asked him if it was yummy and he said, “it not yummy. It hot.” He’s only just learning descriptions and to hear him come up with that on his own was so precious to me. I have a feeling I’ll smile for the rest of my life whenever I eat soup, thinking about my Luke sharing details of his life with me.

I had another magic moment today, this one with Grace. But in able to share the magic, I have to contrast today with yesterday. Yesterday was our third day being inpatient at Children's Hospital Los Angeles. I was so distraught. I was so worried about Grace, the most I’ve been in months. She was so clearly miserable, so tired, so sad. She was on every laxative known to man trying to dissolve a blockage that was causing her considerable pain and caused vomiting after every meal. I felt so helpless. She wasn’t talking at all, only using thumbs up or thumbs down to tell us how she felt. She took a four hour nap and when we took her down to the playground she only watched Luke from a chair while wrapped in a blanket and cried. It was a hard day for all of us.

But today Grace started talking again. By the afternoon she had eaten a little chicken broth and had some lemonade and it cheered her up so much that she was even smiling and sitting up again. I think her tummy was finally starting to feel better from the laxatives working. By dinner time she was allowed to eat a banana and crackers. She was so happy, she told me today was the best day ever. Later I took her to the bathroom knowing we’d be there for some time. So we started singing silly songs as we waited.

“Willa-bee-walla-bee-woo, an elephant sat on you. Willa-bee-walla-bee-wee, an elephant sat on me,” the songs goes. I’d sing about the elephant sitting on the “pospital" and she’d finish the song with him sitting on the hospital. Our elephant sat on the bed, in the sink, on the nurse, on the doctor, getting shots, driving home, snuggling in bed and then we ran out of rhymes. She was laughing the whole time and it was so wonderful to see her enjoying life again. Her smile was so bright and so genuine and I was so glad to be part of it. 

I would have never imagined moments on the phone and on the potty could become treasured memories. But it does seem that often it’s the little nothings that come to be the most important and most lasting in life. The big moments are special too, but they don’t always seem to shape us the way the small but frequent memories do. And small moments have a special way of squeezing down into the smallest crevices of our heart, like a seed where they slowly stretch our hearts bigger and deeper as they take root and grow.

Those special connections are full of magic, but only if you can catch them. Having two magic moments in one day with my children was the best birthday present I could ask for.

Chores and Preschoolers

I have a theory. I don't think that kids did chores in America a hundred years ago.

The definition of chores: "A unnecessary and irritating task contrived by bored parents looking for an opportunity to boss their kids around and involves minimal financial compensation and tireless nagging."

I'll use Laura Engel Wilder for my proof that children didn't do chores. She spent most of her life on a farm in 19th century America. She did things like feed the chickens before school, weed the garden, milk the cow. You might be thinking these are chores, but according to my definition above, they are clearly something more. Kids in charge of feeding the chickens knew that if they didn't feed their animals, they wouldn't get eggs. The survival of their family actually depended on them. And they knew it.

The family worked as a team for in order to eat. It wasn't meaningless work and though it might have been mundane, kids probably enjoyed food through the winter more than they liked skipping rocks, or whatever else they did for fun back then.

My kids, age three and five, do chores. And it's not because I'm lazy and need the help (all moms know that kids doing chores at this age can actually make more work, not less) but because I am trying to lay the foundation that chores can be enjoyable, give them a chance to be an important part of the family, and that we can have family time when we work together.

First, to make chores enjoyable I've done a few things. I try to find chores that match their interest levels. My son is tickled pink to be using a kid-safe window cleaner** in a spray bottle on all our windows. My daughter loves that she has tiny gardening gloves and can use her safety scissors to prune dead roses for me. They have kid-sized rakes and we make big piles of leaves that we dance in before we put them in the compost. We often have dance music blasting the whole time.

To make chores important I let them take some risks. My five year old is allowed to wash glass plates in the sink. Although we have a dishwasher she loves having a "grown-up" chore. I make sure they're dishes that can break without breaking the bank, but giving her a chance to learn responsibility is more important to me than a $5 plate. My son gets to use the small vacuum, even though it doesn't really do much. And that's fine for now.

As they grow up, I want their chores to reflect their importance. I plan on letting them help me plan meals, budget and be in charge of making dinner once a week. And the older they get, the more I'll stay out of the process and with any luck they'll end up in college eating more than microwaveable mac-n-cheese.

To make chores a family affair we set aside a time where we do them together. Every Saturday the kids know we'll be in the yard raking before we play. When it's time to clean rooms, we all go into one kids room and work together to clean it (they straighten, I mop) and then we move onto the next kid's room. Then it's not isolating or seen as a punishment. When we clean the toys up in the living room every night, we do it together. I don't want there to be "mom's or dad's jobs" and "kid's jobs" as much as "family jobs."

I've also broken down chores into three categories. Chores that "expected", like taking their plates to the sink and picking up their toys. Then there are "allowance" chores. Raking the yard and cleaning their rooms every Saturday gets them ten dimes every week. (Why ten dimes? Because then it's easy for them to tithe and put a dime into their savings jar before putting eight dimes in their piggy banks.) Finally I have "extra" chores that they can do to make extra dimes when they're so inclined. These are more traditional chores like sweeping, dusting and vacuuming.

My plan is that if we start chores now then by the time they're teens, it won't be a shock to their system to be a productive part of the family. If they learn now that there are both positive and negative consequences associated with chores, I hope not to nag. Actually I already know I won't be nagging, I'll let the consequences do the hard work for me. And by having them practice life skills more and more as they grow up, I hope to have them ready to not only take care of their families, but to have them full of joy as they do so.


** These are some of the safe cleansers we use at home. I REALLY like them. Most natural cleansers don't work at all, but Branch Basics does and it's so safe that we use it for laundry and hand washing as well. Plus I add some lavender oil and my whole house smells like expensive massage when I'm done.

You can also make kid-safe window cleanser by combining 1/4 cup vinegar, 1/2 tsp liquid dish soap and 2 cups water in a spray bottle. I don't think it works as well as Branch Basics but it is kid safe.

Pinterest Faker

When my life is out of control I organize for therapy. It's cheaper than therapy (though I'm meeting with professional therapist also and she's worth every penny).

I've been wanting to organize the kids games and crafts for a long, long, time, like since my kids were born. I finally took the plunge, bought $150 in organizers and got to work. Each small box cost $6.00 from Amazon and though it's expensive upfront, it's cheaper than throwing out broken games. Then I cut the sides of the box off and used them as labels.

This was my happy result. I hope that it'll extend the life of these games exponentially, as well as help us play them more since we can actually see what we own. So far it's worked, we're playing games more and watching TV less.

This is the finished photo.

I felt super fantastic about myself. not only did I have a very functional and well thought out space, I was going to add it to Pinterest. It was a new all-time high. Then I decided to be honest, because my life isn't what the first photo shows. And so I zoomed out with my camera and I took this photo.

 And this one. 

And another.

And this one too. It's a 360 degree, panoramic view of my office.

What in God's good mercy happened? Well, I've been working for six months to unpack my office where I keep the kid's games. And I haven't finished. I have a nice organized snapshot of my office, one nice enough to be on Pinterest. But I decided to be honest. I'm a mom with two small kids. I may have an awesomely organized game center, but the rest of my life is a mix of beauty and chaos, mostly chaos.

I know when I've gone on Pinterest I've found inspiration for perfecting every aspect of my life. And I mean every aspect.  But I don't want to have to be perfect to be happy. My life is pretty messy right now and it still has corners bulging with messiness...but also with happiness.

I'm totally capable of having cleaned this office six months ago. But I've chosen to go very slowly. Because when my kids ask to play, I'm going to play instead of OCD organize every aspect of my life so that it can match what I see on Pinterest.

To be honest, I'd often rather organize. I'm an "A" type personality and I love results. You don't get results from building block towers and playing cars and braiding Barbie's hair all day, at least not in the form of something tangible or even chart-able. But I do have very close relationships to my kids. I can't really photograph that and pin it.

All I have to show is an organized bookshelf and a really messy room and two very loved children. And I'm ok with that.