It had been a long day. The car said I'd been on the road for 31 minutes but it felt like considerably longer. I'd left my house fourteen hours earlier and hadn't been home since.
I'll be honest, I was starting to feel sorry for myself and my long day. While parts of it (like dinner!) were really nice, but other parts (like repeatedly trying to convince a 5 year old to share) weren't so nice. I was exhausted and on the brink of tears for no apparent reason.
I needed to make a phone call to some friends. Since I knew they go to bed early (and were an hour ahead) I contemplated calling them while driving, something I rarely (one might say "never") do. Even though it meant missing them tonight, I'm so glad I waited.
Instead, as I pulled into my subdivision, my phone lit up. On the other end, I found my friend Kevin.
He himself on his way home after a very long day... except after work he joined a friend at a hospital bedside where he stayed until he called me. Tomorrow, he's getting up to do it all over again.
"They haven't gotten any good news lately, and don't except to," he said.
Instantly my self-pity washed away. I felt so convicted that I was upset over my fourteen-hour day that I planned myself when he was dealing with a longer, unplanned day.
We spoke for forty minutes. There were no tears. But there was a lot of honest confession and sympathizing with each other. "This is hard," we must have each said fifteen times. But almost as many times we said how God has worked and is working through hard.
In the words of the five year old who refuses to share, "Don't do easy things. Do hard things."
Let's do hard. Let's do it for His glory. And let's not feel sorry for ourselves in it.
I don't know about you, but I needed that reminder today and every day.
<>< Katie
PS: Check out my friend Hannah's blog about a Bulgarian Sunrise. It was another reminder I needed. Hannah's on the World Race right now so they're ministering in eleven different countries in the next eleven months. Wow!
Showing posts with label babysitting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label babysitting. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
Live to Worship
We were told to expect thirty middle and high schoolers for our youth retreat. Most of the time there were five.
I think guys are pre-wired to play sports. It's an unfair advantage they have for a bonding activity. Our guys jumped right in with their guys and commence the weekend-long Knock-Out tournament. We ladies had a bit of a more difficult time.
I was God-placed in the right place at the right time. When two sisters walked in, I happened to be near the gym door.
The younger, a very thin middle school student with hair just past her ears, was less than thrilled about playing basketball. She picked up the volleyball and tossed it to herself. I asked if I could join. She nodded yes.
I'm not any better at volleyball than I am at basketball. But, it's easier to play one-on-one than eight-on-one. We bumped the ball back and forth. I was kind of impressed with myself for knowing how to hold my hands, to get under the ball, and for not getting hit in the face. There still might have been more running than bumping.
By dinner time, my arms were bright red. They hurt. Hers matched.
In that volleyball time, she became my buddy. For the next two days, she clinged to me.
We sat together at meals and played volleyball during free times. Since there were five youth and eight college students, I could focus my attention on her. And sometimes she needed all of my attention.
The lively girl I saw when we were playing ping pong and listening to the same two Skillet songs on repeat was not the same girl who slowly scooted her chair next to mine during Bible lessons.
The only time she actually opened her Bible all weekend was during the lesson I taught. She was not interested in playing group games and much preferred to organize the preschool Sunday School room all day Saturday rather than participate in our planned activities.
I prayed a lot for God to show me how to reach her. None of my tricks of the trade seemed successful, so I did the same thing I did with the Nicaraguan niños, I loved her. I made a point to always know where she was. I offered to help her organize and when she declined, it I sat with her while she worked. I put my arm around her when she rested my head on her shoulder. I told her I loved her with my words and my actions.
As seems typical, we had to leave before I could see what God was doing in that girl. But I saw Him work in me.
Our theme of the weekend was: Live to Worship.
One thing God taught me was that even though the middle schooler and I didn't have any deep conversations, my time spent with her was still worship.
I'll be honest, it felt a bit more like babysitting than it did a youth retreat. But it mattered. It was the ministry of presence.
On Saturday night she gave me a piece of construction paper with my name written on it and decorated with glitter. I hung it in my dorm room as a reminder of our weekend and to pray for her regularly. It's a reminder that sometimes even what feels different than we expected can be worship, can be a ministry, can make a difference.
How have you worshipped today?
<>< Katie
I think guys are pre-wired to play sports. It's an unfair advantage they have for a bonding activity. Our guys jumped right in with their guys and commence the weekend-long Knock-Out tournament. We ladies had a bit of a more difficult time.
I was God-placed in the right place at the right time. When two sisters walked in, I happened to be near the gym door.
The younger, a very thin middle school student with hair just past her ears, was less than thrilled about playing basketball. She picked up the volleyball and tossed it to herself. I asked if I could join. She nodded yes.
I'm not any better at volleyball than I am at basketball. But, it's easier to play one-on-one than eight-on-one. We bumped the ball back and forth. I was kind of impressed with myself for knowing how to hold my hands, to get under the ball, and for not getting hit in the face. There still might have been more running than bumping.
By dinner time, my arms were bright red. They hurt. Hers matched.
In that volleyball time, she became my buddy. For the next two days, she clinged to me.
We sat together at meals and played volleyball during free times. Since there were five youth and eight college students, I could focus my attention on her. And sometimes she needed all of my attention.
The lively girl I saw when we were playing ping pong and listening to the same two Skillet songs on repeat was not the same girl who slowly scooted her chair next to mine during Bible lessons.
The only time she actually opened her Bible all weekend was during the lesson I taught. She was not interested in playing group games and much preferred to organize the preschool Sunday School room all day Saturday rather than participate in our planned activities.
I prayed a lot for God to show me how to reach her. None of my tricks of the trade seemed successful, so I did the same thing I did with the Nicaraguan niños, I loved her. I made a point to always know where she was. I offered to help her organize and when she declined, it I sat with her while she worked. I put my arm around her when she rested my head on her shoulder. I told her I loved her with my words and my actions.
As seems typical, we had to leave before I could see what God was doing in that girl. But I saw Him work in me.
Our theme of the weekend was: Live to Worship.
One thing God taught me was that even though the middle schooler and I didn't have any deep conversations, my time spent with her was still worship.
I'll be honest, it felt a bit more like babysitting than it did a youth retreat. But it mattered. It was the ministry of presence.
On Saturday night she gave me a piece of construction paper with my name written on it and decorated with glitter. I hung it in my dorm room as a reminder of our weekend and to pray for her regularly. It's a reminder that sometimes even what feels different than we expected can be worship, can be a ministry, can make a difference.
How have you worshipped today?
<>< Katie
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Bedtime Books
When people call my house requesting a specific babysitter, they normally strike out. However, since there are three of us, normally someone else is there to pick up the slack. Somebody called for Laura, but she had a photo shoot, so I was second best. I'm ok with that. I had never babysat for this family before, and Laura had. The kid's mom worked at my high school, and I'd met Cole through day camp, my summer job a few years back.
Cole was pretty well behaved and quite self-sufficient for being five years old. A couple little problems here and there, but he's five. Even the best five year old doesn't always drop everything and do what is requested of him (or her) at that exact moment (not even the best twenty year old does that, eh, Mom? :-)). However, bedtime was a different story. Stall Queen here may have met her match. "Two more kicks with the soccer ball before we go inside." "I can't get my socks off because my legs are made of rubber." "Look, I'm a dummy!" "That's too much toothpaste." "No, I don't want to wear those pajamas"... you know, kid stuff. Yes, I did start counting. I got to two, and Cole picked a book to read. I breathed a sigh of relief; I didn't know what I was going to do if I got to three. No brushing your teeth?
The book Cole picked out was entitled The Human Body, and he flipped through it looking at the pictures and asking questions. That human biology class I took a few semesters back came in handy in an unanticipated way. All else fails, I could just read the words next to the drawings. "That's the ribcage; it's this part of your body." "That's a tooth and there are four different kinds." "The smallest bone in the body is in the ear." Piece of cake! Until we flipped to the last page. When he first turned the page, I was thrilled because it meant the book was almost done and it would be lights out. Except then I remembered what publishers keep on the last page of human body books just to torment unsuspecting babysitters. Yup, as that dawned on me Cole's little fingers slammed down on a drawing showing the differences between boys and girls.
"What's that?"
I lied. I said I didn't know.
Problem: this five year old can read.
"What's 'protection' mean?"
If I'd have been thinking on the spot I could have explained the word in a different context, but the only word that was coming into my head was "condom." Sorry, Cole, not gonna happen. Instead, I changed the subject and said it was time for bed. It was true, and I like to think it I did it in an inconspicuous way; he'd been stalling long enough. I'll be honest, I have no problem with the anatomy subject. Yes, I can say those words without giggling. Just a few months ago I taught a female friend infinitely more than she ever wants to know about male anatomy using my own drawings, textbook diagrams, and webmd. Not a problem. Also not a conversation I'm having with the five year old who had ten minutes earlier asked me to leave his room so he could put on his pajamas. That is not in my job description. Since I think he asked more out of a desire to stall than he did out of a need to know, I didn't even go for the "Ask Mom and Dad." The last thing I wanted was to invoke a, "Daddy, Miss Katie said..." Frankly, I don't think that's a conversation a five year old needs to have and definitely not with a babysitter.
I took the book away before he had the opportunity to read any more words and said it was bedtime. Cole really was just stalling. We moved on to something I'm a little more comfortable with: bedtime prayers. "Now I lay me... and thanks for helping Miss Katie dodge a bullet."
Thoughts? Similar stories?
<>< Katie
PS: In an earlier conversation, Cole told me that with his principal's permission his school's mascot could eat my school's mascot. Thanks a lot.
Cole was pretty well behaved and quite self-sufficient for being five years old. A couple little problems here and there, but he's five. Even the best five year old doesn't always drop everything and do what is requested of him (or her) at that exact moment (not even the best twenty year old does that, eh, Mom? :-)). However, bedtime was a different story. Stall Queen here may have met her match. "Two more kicks with the soccer ball before we go inside." "I can't get my socks off because my legs are made of rubber." "Look, I'm a dummy!" "That's too much toothpaste." "No, I don't want to wear those pajamas"... you know, kid stuff. Yes, I did start counting. I got to two, and Cole picked a book to read. I breathed a sigh of relief; I didn't know what I was going to do if I got to three. No brushing your teeth?
The book Cole picked out was entitled The Human Body, and he flipped through it looking at the pictures and asking questions. That human biology class I took a few semesters back came in handy in an unanticipated way. All else fails, I could just read the words next to the drawings. "That's the ribcage; it's this part of your body." "That's a tooth and there are four different kinds." "The smallest bone in the body is in the ear." Piece of cake! Until we flipped to the last page. When he first turned the page, I was thrilled because it meant the book was almost done and it would be lights out. Except then I remembered what publishers keep on the last page of human body books just to torment unsuspecting babysitters. Yup, as that dawned on me Cole's little fingers slammed down on a drawing showing the differences between boys and girls.
"What's that?"
I lied. I said I didn't know.
Problem: this five year old can read.
"What's 'protection' mean?"
If I'd have been thinking on the spot I could have explained the word in a different context, but the only word that was coming into my head was "condom." Sorry, Cole, not gonna happen. Instead, I changed the subject and said it was time for bed. It was true, and I like to think it I did it in an inconspicuous way; he'd been stalling long enough. I'll be honest, I have no problem with the anatomy subject. Yes, I can say those words without giggling. Just a few months ago I taught a female friend infinitely more than she ever wants to know about male anatomy using my own drawings, textbook diagrams, and webmd. Not a problem. Also not a conversation I'm having with the five year old who had ten minutes earlier asked me to leave his room so he could put on his pajamas. That is not in my job description. Since I think he asked more out of a desire to stall than he did out of a need to know, I didn't even go for the "Ask Mom and Dad." The last thing I wanted was to invoke a, "Daddy, Miss Katie said..." Frankly, I don't think that's a conversation a five year old needs to have and definitely not with a babysitter.
I took the book away before he had the opportunity to read any more words and said it was bedtime. Cole really was just stalling. We moved on to something I'm a little more comfortable with: bedtime prayers. "Now I lay me... and thanks for helping Miss Katie dodge a bullet."
Thoughts? Similar stories?
<>< Katie
PS: In an earlier conversation, Cole told me that with his principal's permission his school's mascot could eat my school's mascot. Thanks a lot.
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