Amy, Alliterated

Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God?
Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people,
I would not be a servant of Christ.
Galatians 1:10


Amy's ambitions aren't appropriate. Awful, actually. Always after attention, Amy adores approval and aims at acknowledgment.

"Applaud Amy!" "Accept Amy!" "Admire Amy!"


And, Amy's attempts at admiration always achieve anxiety and anger. Abundance and assurance are achingly absent.

Although Amy's aims are amiss, appropriate ambition (as an apostle affirmed) appreciates an Almighty.

Amy, advance another agenda! Accurate aspirations are after Almighty's approval…and Almighty’s approval alone.

This one took 18 years to write.

Recently, one of our dorm guys asked for my best parenting advice. He's not a parent yet--he's not even dating anyone, actually--but he'll make a great husband and father someday.

It's a huge question, really, and one I'm not qualified to answer. The verdict is still out on my parenting, since all three of my kids still live at home. But I've been at this parenting gig for almost 18 years now...what is my best advice?

I've read a thousand parenting books--should I tell him my favorites? These four come to mind:

We had two rules that we recited (with hand motions!) every morning at breakfast. Should I tell him those?

  1. "Love God and love people." (I stole that one from Jesus.)
  2. "Obey the first time, every time, with no complaining." (I stole that one, too, but I can't remember from where.)

Our family also regularly reviewed our "Three Reasons for Spanking," which I stole from Kaylene Idleman, the wife of the former president of the college where I now work. Does he want to hear those?

  1. Disrespect
  2. Disobedience
  3. Dishonesty

(Should I show him the paddle we used, and how I decorated it with all three kids' names printed in happy dot letters, along with the text of Proverbs 23:13? Probably not.)

We read family devotionals and celebrated monthly family days--"Stormy Days", we called them--and we took each kid on one-on-one dates. All of it, by God's grace, helped Nathan, Anne and Molly become who they are now. But how can I boil it down into advice? What's most important to tell? 

I finally landed on two things:

1. Remember the end goal. Andy has said since our kids were tiny, "We aren't raising kids. We're raising adults." Because of this, as Stephen Covey wrote, we must "begin with the end in mind." What's the ultimate goal for my kids? To be popular in high school? To play professional sports? No. More than anything else, I want them to be whole, capable adults who love God and people. That end goal is why I made them scrub toilets and sort laundry. It's why we gave them their dollar allowances in that they could easily give a tithe to our that someday budgeting and giving will be second-nature. It's why they went to church every week and fed our neighbor's cats and wrote sentences like "I don't hit girls" 100 times when they were unkind. It's why I made them read all those library books and memorize poetry and Scripture...because their minds were being formed and they were learning how to learn. It's easy in parenting to get sidetracked by things that seem important at the time, so...always remember the end goal!

2. Talk. My kids joke that I'm a closet-Jew (I do tend to make them celebrate more Jewish holidays than Christian ones), and as such I based my parenting philosophy on Deuteronomy:

  • " not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them fade from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them." (Deuteronomy 4:9)
  • "...Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up." (Deuteronomy 6:7)
  • "In the future, when your son asks you...tell him." (Deuteronomy 6:20-21)

Talk. I really don't know another way. Good parenting takes a lot of words, so talk a lot. Talk when they're babies, because how else will they learn to speak? As they grow, listen to their words, and be intentional with your own. Talk about the Lord--where you see him at work in the world and how they can join in. Talk about how much you love them, no matter what. Talk about their stories--their heritage, their roots. Talk up your spouse as a hero. Talk about the wrong things you see around you and on television--things like greed and disrespect and deceit. Point those things out, so they won't become accepted norms. Talk about sex--not in a one-time, awkward conversation after it's too late, but often and in age-appropriate ways, even when they roll their eyes. Talk about the reasons behind your rules, pointing to Scripture as much as possible. Even talk about your expectations when you go places: "When we're in the library, we'll walk slowly and use whisper voices so we won't disturb the people who are reading..."   

And, when you're tired of all the talking, announce that it's "Room Time," and make everyone read those library books on their beds until you're ready to talk again.

Later, I'll think of a dozen more profound things I should've told him, like how much hard work he's in for, and how nothing will exhaust or terrify him more, and how he'll never have a more crucial ministry or privilege. But that's all I've got for now. With consistency and intention and truckloads of God's grace, remember the end goal, and talk a lot.

Fog and Redemption

Sixteen years ago today, I miscarried our third baby--the baby that came between Anne and Molly. Sam or Grace...I can't know this side of heaven...was due the day after Anne's first birthday.


Two babies 12 months apart would've been hectic, especially since Nathan and Anne were already only 16 months apart. As it turned out, once Molly came along, I still had three babies in 36 months. That kept me plenty busy.

I used to cry every time I recalled this day. Grief and questions were a thick fog, clouding my view of God's goodness and grace. I've never been good at accepting what I don't understand, and as far as I could tell, God had no good reason for letting my baby die. He certainly had nothing to say for himself on the matter.

Over the years, though, the hurt healed and the fog lifted. Not all at once and certainly not in the crystal clear explanation I craved, I came to accept what seemed trite at first, but later became the truest truth: that this world is broken, but God is good, so he redeems it all.


Every last bit of brokenness, he will, through Christ, redeem.

That must keep him plenty busy.


This year, when I remembered the 16-year anniversary, I teared up again--not in grief for a life lost, but in love and thanks for the child I gained. Had Sam or Grace not passed away, I wouldn't have my Molly, and I cannot imagine this world without her creativity and humor and talent and beauty and intelligence and strength and kindness and sass. I love her so much, and I know the Lord will use her in big ways, for his glory.

Today, I remember that I'm a mother of four, with a sweet reunion in store. I remember that someday, the fog will lift completely, because "now I see only a reflection as in a mirror; then I shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully" (1 Corinthians 13:12). Today, I remember that this world is broken, but God is good, so he redeems it all.


I remember that he has invited me to join him in his redeeming work in this broken world.

And that will keep me plenty busy.