Lessons My Children Have Taught Me This Year

Sweetness and grumpiness do not have to be mutually exclusive (Anni).

The best way to start a day is with 5 to 10 minutes of snuggling (Anni).

Doing a show with your child is very time consuming, but if he is enjoying himself, it’s well worth the effort (Karsten).

My children are more talented than I am.

Spring break is only fun if you get to be with friends and don’t leave off learning something (Karsten).

Being late to school is usually more about my poor planning than their pokiness.

A six-year-old can make beautiful music on the piano even before starting lessons…truly.

Three or four chocolate chips in the morning taste better than at any other time of day.

Gameboys, iPods, iPads, and other small electronics make books seem dull. These devices should be banned from all public gatherings because they foster discontent (Karsten).

Facebook and surfing can be temptations to neglect my children who need me far more than my “friends”.

Communion looks like a snack despite its size (Karsten).

Running laps around the house is good exercise, even though the course is short and little feet are loud. It also wears kids out so they sleep well.

I need to say I’m sorry and really mean it, even if the owie happened by accident. My kids will learn that best if I set a good example.

Some days, I simply need to set my work aside and play with my children.

Listening to an Early Reader read by my son is some of the most enjoyable listening I’ve done of late.

Playdates need to happen much more often.

Little bladders hold a lot of “water”. You realize that most when it’s all over the bathroom floor.

Correctly spoken R’s and L’s are overrated (Anni).

Unsolicited smooches are gifts from God (Anni).

Prayer for Our Boys

Like most parents, I am appalled, nauseated and saddened by the events brought to light at Penn State. My thoughts have turned to my son, Karsten. How do I protect him in a world where the perpetrator is often deemed more valuable than the victim? If "pillars of the community" can be monsters in disguise, how do I keep my child safe?

Approximately one in ten little boys will be molested, but many believe that estimate is low. The number for little girls is even higher - one in five. That means you and I know at least one child - probably many - who has been or is being molested right now. It makes me shake and weep.

I am relieved that the crimes have been exposed and the guilty parties fired, Paterno included. Until Sandusky is in jail and those who covered it up are penalized, this world's justice will be far from complete. However, justice will not remove the children's wounds.

I am praying for the little boys who were Sandusky's victims, of whom there are likely more than we know. I am praying for their parents, for wisdom and healing for them too. I am praying that Penn State's leaders - and those of other colleges and universities - will see the enormous moral error of protecting the violator. I am praying that the students of Penn State will recognize their misplaced loyalty and put themselves in the victims' shoes. I am not ready to pray for Sandusky, though he no doubt needs it.

With fear and trembling, I am praying for my children. And myself. Praying that I will have the wisdom to recognize when something is off. Wisdom to prepare my son and daughter to protect themselves. I cannot always be at their sides. Sadly, I do not have the ability to see into the hearts of their teachers, coaches, and the other adults in their lives. But I can teach Karsten and Annika that they are valuable to God and to me, that their bodies are their own, that no adult has the right to hurt them, and that Mommy and Daddy will protect them like tigers.

Oh, those boys! God, be with those boys. Let them know they are special to you, that you are not far away, that you are angry and brokenhearted FOR them. That your justice is perfect, your love profound and your healing complete.

Grandad's Gift

Grandad was one of my college professors. Dr. Howard Stien taught Biology. Spring of my freshman year at Whitworth, I took Human Biology (a class for non-majors) from him.

The class was challenging and I worked hard. There were few people I wanted to make proud more than Grandad. I had taken biology classes in high school, but Stien (that's what we called him) took us much deeper. Of course. This was college. I renamed the class "Stien's Philosophy of Biological Humanness".

The final paper was to be a for-or-against argument, but I was in turmoil. What I had learned had challenged my faith and my understanding of God and of us. I could not make an argument either way. So I wrote Grandad a letter, which was not the assignment. I explained the upheaval I was experiencing and my inability to defend either side.

Grandad wrote me a letter back.

"Kyrsten,

"I read your paper with great interest and no little concern. Your paper merits my carefully considered response both as your professor and as your Grandfather. It is brilliantly written... I am proud beyond words that you dared risk doing what your heart, mind, soul and body tells you must be done. That kind of courage is rare in young students when faced with the expectations of profs, particularly grandfather profs...

"You have demonstrated an exceptional ability to manipulate information and communicate ideas in writing. Best of all, you have learned to recognize dissonance... I am encouraged that you have gained some understanding of the material miracle that is Life and that you have considered all this in the 'context of your personal beliefs, experience and values'... You are dealing with it honestly and I think maturely."

He signed it "GOK" - grandfather of Kyrsten. And he gave me an A.

I have never felt more validated.