An Advent Prayer

 ad·vent
ˈadˌvent/
noun
noun: advent; plural noun: advents
the arrival of a notable person, thing, or event.
"the advent of television"

synonyms: arrival, appearance, emergence, materialization, occurrence, dawn, birth, rise, development; More
approach, coming

"the advent of a new school year"


antonyms: disappearance


the first season of the Christian church year, leading up to Christmas and including the four preceding Sundays.
noun: Advent
Christian Theology
the coming or second coming of Christ.
noun: Advent

Galatians 4:4-5 

4 But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, 5 to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.

The earth and all her inhabitants waited once before.

We are waiting once again.

We grow weary as our souls ache with longing for the One who came once upon that distant Christmas morn.
The world once again full of darkness and hate.

We cry out to the One who Hears.

Where is the Promised One?
Where is the One who carries Salvation in His hands?
What keeps our Hope and King from walking among us once again?
When will He come, bursting forth with Righteousness and Peace?

The skies wait eagerly to sing with proclamation once again, remembering that night in Bethlehem.
The earth groans as a laboring woman, anticipating the arrival of the Child who became Man anew.
Your children wait, O God, agony and despair a breath away.

But let us not forget the great Hope we hold in Him who came before.
Let us take heart in Your timing, Lord, as perfect now as it was then.
Fill our souls with confidence as we wait upon your return, O Lord, our King.

Send Comfort as we weep for you.
Send Peace as we gnash our teeth.
Make your Spirit move within us, opening our eyes to see.


Fill us with Your compassion to hold up the weak, to unburden the poor, to meet the wretched in love.
Make us into Your Hands and Feet, preparing a path of Peace.
Fill our waiting with the good work which you have prepared for us from eons ago.


Come, O Lord.
Find us expectant.
Find us prepared.
Find us with the ones You came to save.


Come, O Lord.
Come soon.

1 Peter 1:13

13 Therefore, preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.

Me Too

Me too. 

17 and unsure of the world. 

Turn my back for a moment. Hear the click of door as it locks. 

Lights out. 

Feel his breath on my neck. 

(When I try real hard to take down the mental shield, I even remember his laugh as I ask him to leave.)

Hands on my shoulders moving down. 

I grab the metal ice scoop and tell him I will scream. 

Lights on. 

A shrug. Just a joke. Chill out. Bitch. 

Me too. 

Me too. 

Still 17 and discovering what it feels like to be wanted. 

He was sweet and his words were like a waterfall painting me as beautiful. As wanted. As something to be desired. 

His calls at first seemed caring. He just couldn’t wait to see me. Be with me. 

At the mall. Suddenly he’s there. 

At the store, turn around baby, guess who. 

Too much, too fast. I need space. 

Rear view mirror. Always there. 

Go away. Go away. Go away. 

New girl catches his eye. I can breathe. 

Me too. 

Me too. 

18 and still hurting from first love’s end. 

Uncomfortable gazes. Standing too near. 

Hushed whispers from players as I pass through the room. 

Old friends call themselves brothers. Walk me to my car. Walk me to dinner. Closing rank to protect one of their own. 

Tell me don’t be alone with him. Don’t let him park by you. Ignore him. He isn’t safe. Telling me but not the Dean.

Leaving late. Brothers nowhere around. He’s there. I’m alone. 

Chest tight. Close my eyes. Remember the dark and the breath on my skin from a time not so long ago. 

Walk fast. He’s right there. Start to jog. He walks faster. 

My car. Thank God. 

Heart sinks as I see his truck. He gets in. 

It’s OK. I’m safe. I’ll leave. 

He follows. 

Call my friend. He walks me home from the parking lot. 

Every day.  For an entire football season. 

Me too. 

Me too. 

19 and growing up fast. 

Let me touch. Let me feel. The other girls do. Booty calls. Hang ups. 

No. No. No. No. No.

Bitch. Slut. Cunt.
Me too.

Me too. 

22 and trying to survive. 

I like that shirt. Those eyes. Wear that shirt with the 'v' again. Nice. 

You’re my favorite teller. You fill that dress out nice. 

Hey baby. Hey darlin'. Hey sweet thang. 

You want to write my number down? 

Ask my co-worker to switch me windows. Avoid him when he drives up. Tell my boss. 

Be professional. Just smile and nod. Don’t take it personal. 

Me too. 

Me too. 

33 and just doing some self-care. 

Movies by myself and he slips up behind me. 

Whistles. Low and long. 

Damn baby. You can be my Wonder Woman. Stupid play on the movie we’re waiting to see. 

You alone? Come on, baby. You hear me? 
Don't turn around.  Don't acknowledge him.  He'll stop.

Bitch don’t know a compliment. 

Spits on the floor. 

I roll my eyes and walk away. Numb and irritated. I’m someone’s mother. Surely this old song should be done by now. 

Grip my keys as I leave. Stay alert. Walk fast. Take a breath as I lock my doors. Shake my head. Clear the racing thoughts. Call my kids. 

Me too. 

Me too. 

Copyright © 2017 Courtney Jean Bancroft 

Sincerely, A Struggling and Grateful Mama

Dear Fellow Mom in Walmart,

You saw me struggle in the produce aisle as I wrestled the frozen waffle box from my toddler. You smiled when he declared he NEEDED to eat frozen waffles RIGHT NOW. You nodded your head at me in acknowledgement of my exasperated sigh. 

As we turned to pick up tomatoes and avocados, you were selecting bananas nearby. I saw your body language straighten and grow tight when my voice carried sharply when my toddler nearly tossed a glass jar out of the cart. I saw your slight frown as I pleaded with him in a desperate and harsh voice to "just stop touching things right now". 

I also saw the look on your face when he opened and dumped a package of grape tomatoes all over the floor. I noticed the look you gave me when I lost my composure and yelled at my toddler with tears of frustration, anger, and silent regret in my eyes. 

I saw that look full of compassion and empathy. I also saw how you immediately stepped into my world. You placed a gentle hand on my now distraught son and soothed him and told him it was ok. That he was ok. You knelt down where I was frantically gathering tomatoes and grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. You gathered tomatoes and helped me put them back in the carton. You said gently," I've got four. It happens, mama. He's very little. It's all ok. " 

I was too touched to speak. So I didn't. I just nodded at you and brushed my tears away. You patted my son on the back one more time and you walked away. 

I wish I had said thank you. Thank you for championing my child. Thank you for inserting yourself into a moment that could have been filled with much more regret than it already was. Thank you for putting my little boy's needs first, beyond your comfort zone, without worrying about how I would take it. Thank you for reminding this mama to breathe and think before reacting. 

Oh, how I wish I had hugged you and told you what a wonderful woman you are! May God shower special kisses from the King on you today wherever you are! Bless you, mama. 

Sincerely,

A Struggling and Grateful Mama

A birth story...Firefly

Thursday morning, March 26th, I went in for my 37 week appointment with my OB. I had been sick all week and having contractions off and on too. But that morning I was feeling pretty great. 

We had a great appointment and my dr and I went over my birth plan. I'd had some anxiety because I was planning a natural birth and she had been a little resistant to some of my requests. But that morning she had actually conceded and agreed that I had done my research well and that she was willing to help me reach my goals. She did a cervical check and noted that I was dilated to a 3. She guesstimated that baby girl would probably arrive the next week sometime. 

We left the dr and headed to Chipotle for lunch and then drove back home to Ardmore. I started having contractions again at lunch off and on. Nothing that I could track really but very uncomfortable. 

By mid afternoon I was pretty uncomfortable with back pain and off and on contractions but it still wasn't anything to make me think I should start tracking it. I made spaghetti for supper and afterwards thought maybe I should track some contractions but it was still pretty inconsistent. I also wasn't convinced it wasn't gas pain. I was really bloated from all the yummy food I had stuffed in my face all day. 

So from about 6pm until 9pm I was pretty distracted with helping get Silas ready for bed. The longer it took, the more uncomfortable I became. But by this time I had stuck on the whole "it's just gas" notion and wasn't letting go. My friend Nikki often calls me Scarlett. As in Scarlett O'Hara of "I'll think about that tomorrow" fame. I am really good at denial. 

Around 11pm I started chatting with some friends on Facebook. And mentioned that I had lots of tummy pains and couldn't lay down comfortably.  After lots of questions, they began trying to convince me that I was actually in labor. 

By midnight, I decided to humor them. I started tracking contractions and by 12:30pm, I  realized maybe they were on to something. My "gas pains" were 2 1/2 minutes apart and lasting about a minute. I was officially in labor. Whoops. 

I quickly updated my friends and they lovingly and firmly insisted that I get my butt in the car and make the drive to Norman NOW. I didn't need much convincing at that point. I decided to wake Andrew up. 

Now, I was at this point having a hard time walking and Andrew was asleep in Si's room. So I decided to call his phone. Andrew is normally a very light sleeper. So after two phone calls and a text with no response, I was feeling a little desperate. I didn't have a bag packed. I couldn't walk. I was starting to panic. So I texted Nikki. 

Nikki just happened to be awake and immediately texted me back. She was on her way. Knowing she was coming and they she would stay with Si, I knew that I needed to try and get Andrew up. So I slowly made my way to Si's room and quietly called Andrew's name. 

I said Andrew's name in varying levels of volume about 3 times. The third time he lifted his head, looked at me, and rolled over. At which point I hissed loudly at him to wake up. He finally stirred and I told him that I thought we needed to go to the hospital. Twice. He finally accepted that I was serious and jumped out of bed. 

I made my way slowly to the bedroom to sit and Andrew began running back and forth from room to room with his bag and basically panicking. Nikki arrived shortly after and realized that someone needed to infuse some calmness into the situation. Bless her. 

Nikki helped me grab some clothes and gave Andrew a pep talk. We were in the car and headed to Norman at 1:20am. By this time I was genuinely concerned that I may birth this babe on the side of the road. I was in a lot of pain and couldn't talk much. I started to panic a little to be honest. Strangely, Andrew was now pretty calm and collected. Or at least he'd managed to get to a place of not showing any panic. Haha. 

I called the hospital and told them I was on my way. The rest of the car ride was spent crying and trying not to scream. Around Purcell I stopped trying not to scream and started, as Andrew put it, yell-praying. I also started fighting the urge to try and push. 

At this point, Andrew had been driving fast but not enough to be unreasonable. But when I started yelling, he decided to risk having highway patrol follow us to Norman. Which was also when we hit construction and a flashing sign informing us to " Be Prepared To Stop". 

"We can't stop!",My ever astute husband declared. "I know. I know. ", I moaned. More yell-praying happened on my part. 

Once we turned onto Tecumseh road in Norman and the health plex was in sight, I began to have some inner calm. I knew that we had made it and I could just focus on having the baby I had been holding in for an hour....oh yeah. We pulled up to the ER entrance at 2:20am. 

Andrew parked and ran into the hospital to grab a wheel chair. The lovely security guard meandered on out with it. (Seriously. He was slooooow. Andrew had to keep asking him to please hurry.)  Mr. Security Guard parked the wheel chair about 3 feet from the car and stood there encouraging me to walk over and sit down.  Andrew tried to move it closer but the lovely man pulled it back and assured him that he "would navigate".  After a minute or two Andrew finally helped me stand up and move. 

Andrew went to park and I was wheeled up to the desk. I informed the nurse that I was in labor and felt like I needed to push and that labor and delivery was waiting. All of this came out fast and loud. She asked me to calm down and began asking me a bunch of questions. I cut her off and repeated that I needed to go to labor and delivery. She kept asking questions. In exasperation and pain, I screamed. Another nurse ran out from the ER and asked me what was wrong. I told her and she told Desk Lady to wait for my husband. 

At this point, they started wheeling me to labor and delivery and I had to encourage my chauffeur to move a little more quickly. There may have been more screaming. 

At labor and delivery, I reminded them that labor and delivery was waiting and that I didn't need to go to triage. But they informed me that they were still taking me to triage. I began to lose my cool a little. (Yes, the previous screaming was me being calm. I know. ) 

Two triage nurses appeared and rolled me into a triage room and started trying to remove me from the wheelchair, which I was desperately clinging to at this point. No way was I letting them put me in triage. 

The nurses explained that I needed to be checked in and monitored and then if I was in active labor, they would move me to labor and delivery.  I yelled that I had already called, was told to come straight to labor and delivery, and that I WAS GOING TO START PUSHING SOON! And then I screamed again. And didn't stop until we hit the labor and delivery doors.  

We were met by a labor and delivery team at the door. One of my triage nurses told them that I "thought" I was in labor and they couldn't calm me. The head nurse on the l & d team asked my name and they told her. "You mean the gal from ardmore?!" I yelled," yes! Yes! I need a bed! Please! I'm going to push soon!"  The triage nurses were informed that they should have brought me right away and I was moved very quickly to my room. 

One nurse helped me get undressed and into the bed, while another started the process of checking me in and taking my vitals. They decided to check me real quick. Andrew walked in as the nurse shouted," um, she's at a 7 and 100% effaced! Get Watterman in here now!" He said it was like watching a volcano erupt. Controlled chaos everywhere. 

The on call dr from my dr's office, Watterman, arrived and the nurses started going over my birth plan with her hurriedly. She told me she would check my dilation and go from there. Then she popped my water. Which I had specifically said I didn't want. My contractions instantly became more painful. And they'd been pretty terrible before that. I'm not gonna lie. I yelled at her. I was so angry. Andrew even said very firmly, "you didn't ask. You just did it. We aren't ok with that. "  Watterman quickly apologized and said she thought she had told me she was doing it. She decided to step out for a minute so I could calm down because I was pretty upset. 

A minute or two later, my body went on auto control. I grabbed Andrew's hand and told him I was pushing. The nurse said," oh no. We have to wait for the dr. Don't push. ". I pushed. Then I pushed again. The nurse again," no! No! Don't push! Stop pushing! Get the dr NOW!!" 

Dr. Watterman robed up and watched as I pushed three more times and the nurse caught Alice at 2:59 am.  I had completely blocked the nurses out and trusted my body and its Maker. I figured, there were ten people in the room. Someone would catch her. 

They immediately put my babe on my chest and waited for the cord to stop pulsing so they could clamp it and Andrew could cut it. The nurse helped me get my robe down so we could do skin to skin. The next hour or so was spent nursing and holding my babe. 

The minute she was out, I felt 100% fine. Seriously. I am still in shock. When they took her for a bath, I got off the bed and went to the bathroom without assistance. It was amazing. With silas I was incapable of anything for days because of all the drugs in my system. This was such a night and day experience. 

Another huge difference was that Alice latched on and nursed like a champ. No extreme weight loss, tears, or fears about this little lady's eating. That's for sure! 

We ended up having to stay for 48 hours simply bc the group b strep swab my dr had taken Thursday didn't have results back. It was a long stay. Alice was given a clean bill of health and I was rocking recovery on just motrin. We wanted to be home and we were missing Silas so much. We were finally released on Sunday afternoon and it was a sweet homecoming indeed. 

So there ya go. From gas pains to labor to the longest, fastest drive to Norman ever to 1 hour and 5 pushed later, a healthy little babe was born. True to her nickname, our Firefly arrived in just the blink of an eye but that blink was brilliant and shiny and magical. (Yes, I said shiny. If you got it, we can be BFF's ;) ).  

Alice Kate

There's a new little one in our lives. Her name is Alice Kate. She's named for two of the most influential women in my spiritual walk. Alice for my "little bitty grandma" Alice McCannon. She was the most godly woman I've ever known and her life marked mine distinctly. She modeled Jesus consistently and unashamedly along with unconditional love for her family. I couldn't think of a better woman for my little girl to aspire too. Which brings us to Kate. 

The second most influential woman in my faith walk is Phoebe Kate Barron. She was my first mentee. But our discipleship bond taught and challenged me more than anything else. Our relationship grew to one of mutual respect, love, and true Titus sisterhood. I want that legacy to continue in Alice's life. So we chose to honor Phoebe by giving her part of her name to our daughter. 

We have so many hopes and dreams for her. But mostly we hope Jesus for her. May we continue to grow into parents who truly model God, the Father, for our children. 

Love Courageously Challenge

I have been attempting to examine myself better lately and learn to love others in a more christ-like way. The overflow of this is ultimately so that I can love my children better and parent them more wisely and in a way that reflects how Christ loves me. My goal is gospel-centered parenting. 

So I stumbled upon a 28 day challenge on one of my favorite parenting resources' blog and decided to give it a shot. 

Here's the link: http://www.positive-parents.org/2015/02/love-courageously-challenge-day-one.html?m=1

I hope to share my thoughts as I go. I may not get every day on here but hopefully I can share what I learn often. 

Teachable MOMents

We've all been there. That moment when someone tells you something and all you hear is," you're doing it wrong". Maybe that's not what they said or meant. But it's what we hear. 

How do you respond when someone is trying to correct you? If you're like me, your gut reaction is to shut down and tell them to mind their own business.  Especially if they're another parent trying to advise me. 

I mean, who do they think they are trying to tell me how to _______. They aren't better than me. Right? Why should I listen to them? 

Well, I had a moment one day when Silas was almost a one year old.  I was reading through a thread on my Facebook mommy group and the mom who posted was echoing those same sentiments. Then another mom spoke up. "Maybe if we stopped hearing,'you're wrong', when other moms sent us advice, the mommy wars would end. "

Huh? Whoa. I never thought about it like that. She went on to say that she had felt the same way many times. But then she realized that the moms who had reached out to her, genuinely cared about her and knew she loved her kids. They had learned something new and wanted to share. 

But instead of taking it in and really hearing their heart, she had assumed the worst and shut them out. Now, not all of these attempts to reach out were so innocent, she admitted. But a good chunk of them were. And if she had really stopped to read/hear their words in the moment instead of shutting down, she would have learned something valuable. Not just some tidbit of nutrition or car seat safety updates, but that she had the opportunity to forge a deep, rich, friendship with someone who cared for her. 

"I realized,"she said,"that I had stopped being teachable and lost the opportunity to pour into another mom and in turn be poured into. " 

That thread has been coming back to mind lately as I have watched many of my friends on social media make snap judgements of other parents or shut out well-meaning attempts to help because they felt judged. I started asking myself if I was doing that too. I had to admit that I do have that attitude sometimes. 

I think it comes down to a couple of things: being insecure about our choices as moms because we are on our own so much of the time. When we lost the tribe, we lost our confidence. Or the flip side, being so confident in our choice that we can't imagine that another choice might be just as "right" as ours. 

Now, I'm not saying that every time someone approaches you with a bit of advice that you have to (or need to) take it. What I am saying is this: take a deep breath. Take a step back. Listen to the heart behind the words. Tell them thank you for caring deeply about you and yours.

You don't have to take that advice but you can look at what they've offered with an open mind. It doesn't mean you have to change your mind. But it does mean that you've given them the opportunity to connect with you. You've allowed them to be a part of your village. You've allowed yourself to be teachable and reachable. 

We won't always agree with every parent on every topic. But we can agree to listen to each other. We can agree that we all love our kids. We can agree to model fellowship and love and deep, genuine, friendships for our children. We can stop reacting and start relating. 

You Scream, I Scream, We All Scream...

You scream, I scream, we all scream...well, it's not for ice cream.  Nope, no sugary sweet conversations over irrisistable treats happening in the mommy group these days. The "mommy wars" are alive and well.  

The battle cry has varied over the years. Topics have ranged from how (and when) we give birth to our children, how we raise our children, how we discipline, parenting styles, nutrition, breastfeed or formula feed...the list goes on and on. 

The latest hot button conversation starter is the great vax debate.  If you wanna get a bunch of moms spewing hate-filled angry words at each other just casually mention the words "measles", "flu", "pertussis", and stand back and watch. You might even wanna grab some popcorn because the show is guaranteed to be epic. 

Regardless of how I feel about any of these issues, that's not what I want to talk about. I want to start a different conversation. When did a parenting decision trump embracing my fellow mom with love, grace, compassion, and friendship? When did differing perspectives begin to outweigh the blood of Christ? When did my singular experience in this life become so much more important than that of the struggling, hurting, discouraged moms surrounding me? 

Being a mom is hard. Not only do you have all the societal pressures and inner struggles that become your inheritance when you enter this world as a woman, but then you get mom guilt, post partum body image, and kid comparison to boot. 

Two generations ago, moms didn't have this kind of isolation. Moms were celebrated and supported. Most of all they were surrounded by multiple generations of moms, grandmas, aunts, sisters, and neighbors. There was a wealth of knowledge, support, and encouragement to draw on. Moms today don't have that. 

Today's mom, if she's lucky, might have a handful of like-minded moms to face the daily battle of parenthood with. She might even have at least one supportive parent (or in law) to lean on and glean wisdom from. But mostly she's scouring the Internet at 3am reading blogs, or searching Facebook groups for help, or browsing the kindle store for the next top-selling parenting book. 

Today's mom is defeated by Pinterest and Instagram and Hollywood perfection. She's isolated and afraid and self-doubting. She's afraid to ask the questions haunting her every time she fails. Because if she asks she has to admit to the world that she hasn't got it all figured out. She has to admit that she doesn't have some inner goddess-matron intuition to guide her. She has to admit that babies and toddlers and teenagers aren't simple, easy, or one size fits all. She has to admit that she's not enough. 

Or maybe that's just me. I'm tired of keeping it inside. I've lost the benefit of the sisterhood of moms and it pisses me off. I can't have a conversation with another mom without testing the waters first. I have to make sure that my set of doubts, fears, struggles, etc will meet her own standards of what is acceptable. 

 I'm afraid that if I admit my struggles, dreams, and desires for parenting, I'll be judged and shamed. I'm terrified that I'll be the next vilified mom on the block if I broach a topic that might be too taboo. Or worse, my incredibly funny, smart, imaginative, curious little boy will be ostracized, singled out, or picked on because his mama just can't conform to the mommy mold of our current social circle. 

I don't want to be afraid anymore. I want to gather a circle of sister-moms around me. I want us to live life together and support each other. I want our differences to enrich each other. I want our different experiences and perspectives to strengthen each other. 

I have been incredibly blessed the past couple of years to have found an online group of women to talk to and be encouraged by.  But there's only so much life that can happen through a computer.  I miss having face to face community.  I crave it. 

I want to create a vibrant community around me that is full of incredibly varied backgrounds that comes together with one goal: loving each other and our children without discrimination or prejudice. 

I want the mom wars to end. 

So I'm waving the white flag. 

I don't care how you parent. I don't care what choices you make for your kids when it comes to their health or education. I don't care where you buy your groceries or eat your meals. I don't care if you are the Pinterest mom of the year or can't glue two Popsicle sticks together to save your life. 

I want to hear about all of these things. Of course I do. Let's meet at Starbucks and I want to hear your fears, concerns, passions, struggles. I want to have coffee and talk about how and why we do anything as parents. I want to hear your side of your story. I want to share mine too. But I'm leaving the judgement at home.  

Let's embrace each other and root each other on. Let's celebrate the victories. Let's cry together over the hard days. Let's hold each other and learn from each other.  Let's learn to love each other the way we were meant to. 

Legacy

Dr. Maya Angelou passed from this earth today. I was not expecting the depth of emotion I experienced when I read the headlines and processed the news. I did not know her personally. Though I will admit, I had always hoped to meet her. I hope one day I may still on the other side of eternity. 

I find myself deeply saddened at the loss of this great light in a darkened world. Dr. Angelou's life has been one driven by fierce determination and grace. It has inspired thousands upon thousands. 

As I mourn her loss, I am comforted by the legacy she leaves behind. We will miss her presence, yes. But her voice? No. Her voice will echo on in the words she has written. 

She has left us a rich and vibrant legacy. A beautiful memorial to a beautiful soul. Her words inspire, lend courage, and offer wisdom that will last to the end of the ages. 

Beautiful woman, you will indeed be remembered just as you hoped. Thank you for teaching. Thank you for being. Thank you. 

The Parent Trap (and not the Disney kind)

This blog post is hard for me.  Because this topic is a hot stinky pile of poo.  But I can't keep dodging the poo-slinging.  People I love and care about on both sides have been burned.  Badly.

There is a war going on.

I'm talking about a war staged on social media and mainstream media.  I'm talking about a battle of words and wit waged by moms, dads, and "trolls" alike.  It covers topics ranging from how we put our kids to sleep to how we discipline, from how we feed our children to what we feed them, from "crunchy" lifestyle choices to "mainstream" choices, from "gentle"/"attachment" parenting to "unattached" parenting (or whatever you call the opposite of AP).  I am talking about the "Mommy Wars" or let's just call it what it is: The "I Can Do Anything You Can Do Better Than You Can, I Can Do Anything Better Than YOU! Wars"  .  Yeah, I went there. 

Now before you completely tune me out, let me fully admit right here and right now that I HAVE PARTICIPATED IN THESE WARS.  I have slung sarcasm and rudeness with the best of them.  I have taken offense and given it.  I too fell for the trap.

What trap? 

I'm so glad you asked.  The trap of judging my fellow parents.  The trap of tearing them down just because they do something I don't do.  The trap of thinking that anyone who does or says differently than I do must be wrong and therefore evil and in turn judging me back!

And you know what?  I am absolutely 100% hurting God's heart.  Ouch.

Ephesians 4:25-32 "Therefore, having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another. 26 Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, 27 and give no opportunity to the devil. 28 Let the thief no longer steal, but rather let him labor, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need. 29 Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear. 30 And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. 31 Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. 32 Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you."


Oh man,  do you hear what the Word says here?  The words that I speak/type have power.  They can make or break.  I feel like they've done a lot of breaking lately.  Breaking spirits, breaking bonds, breaking future ministry opportunities, breaking my own heart.   

I've been doing a lot of thinking on this topic.  Like I said, I found myself caught up in the word war with other parents.  So I decided to take a step back.  

I asked myself," What is my true view point on parenting? "

Well, I think we all do the best we can.  I think when we learn better, we do better.  Sometimes that means admitting we are wrong by changing what we do and moving on.  Sometimes that means we see someone else making similar choices.  What do we do then?
  
By the parenting war standards that means we have two options: 1. Inform them that they are wrong.  2.  Justify being angry and rude by pulling the "judgement" card when we are told we are wrong.  But Holy Spirit says we have one option: Give grace to those who hear us.

As a believer, I can not participate in these battles any longer.  I just can't.  I can still post things that I think are relevant.  I can engage in civil and edifying conversation with those who are willing to do the same.  But I can not and will not "go there" when it comes to "proving" myself and my choices.  I will no longer cater to the argumentative and close-minded.  I will not sell out to the "only one can stand" point of view.  I will do what I think is best.  I will advocate for education and choices.

Because when it comes down to it I've realized that Christ is more important than being right.  Christ is more important than anything.  So I don't care if you vaccinate, don't vaccinate, yell at your kids, negotiate with your kids, spank your kids, reason with your kids, feed your kids McDonald's, feed your kids organic unprocessed food, or for heaven's sake breast feed or formula feed.  I care about whether I am loving you like Christ.  I care about whether the words that I speak (whether you agree with them or not) are loving and point to Christ.  I care about my relationship with you more than I care about whether we both get gold stars on the parenting chart. 

Ask yourself: Is my child happy and healthy?  Am I happy and healthy?  Is Christ honored when I  speak? 

Parents, friends, what is your motive when you post something or comment on someone else's post? Is it to contradict? Is it to offer your thoughts on your own research? There's a big difference. And it comes down to knowing why you feel the need to engage in the first place. If your motive is driven by an emotion, stop. If it is driven by a need to "one up" another parent, stop. If it is driven by a desire to cause dissension or offense, stop. 

Just stop. 

Stop perpetuating this silly little social media spat.  Stop contributing to the alienation of parents.  Support the parents in your path.  Love them.  Extend grace.  Stop and think before speaking.  You may not always agree with a parenting choice.  And you may indeed have a better way.  But no one is going to want to take a look at it if your ramming it down their throats.   

Examine your motives. Examine your heart. 

I'm not saying to stop posting or commenting. I'm just saying that there's a better way to educate, inform, and support other parents. And you know what, believers? It starts with us. We are the example. We are the light in the dark. Our words carry weight. They carry power. And they should carry grace. 

Bottom line: It's not about being the better parent.  It's about being a better sharer of the Gospel.