Whispers? Really?

11 The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.13 When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

1 Kings 19:11-13 New International Version (NIV)

I have loved this passage since I became a believer. I just loved the story of God not being a violent, loud, destructive voice, but rather a gentle whisper. 

But I hope this is a safe place to say that since becoming a mother, my view of this passage has become a little jaded. Why? Because I’m not sure I can always hear God’s gentle whisper above my boys making gun noises while playing “Battle Turtles.” My life is loud.

So here’s the truth: God and I have been having a conversation. I trust that God is not a manipulative or game-playing guy. I trust that He wants my heart, and when He has a message for me, He wants me to hear it. And I affirm that God’s Spirit is living within me and working in my life. But when I had 4 kids age 6 and under, it wasn’t always as quiet as being “on a mountain in the presence of the Lord.” So I told God that I trust that He is going to speak clearly to me in a way that I could hear. And I’m at peace with that. 

I don’t think He’s going to whisper the secret of life to someone and say, “Ha! You missed it! You don’t get to hear from God because you were distracted by your toddler’s temper tantrum.” That just doesn’t sound like the God I know. The God I know speaks in whispers, but we also see God communicate through thunder and fire and dreams and healings and wine and music and mud and electrons and miracles and babies and bread. He creates galaxies with his spoken word. I think He can figure out how to speak to me in a way I can hear.

Certainly, I love it when I get quiet space to be in the presence of the Lord, especially if it’s on a mountain. I cherish those times. And now that my kids are all in elementary school I get that much more often. But I believe the gospel is for all people– even moms of toddlers. And I believe that God wants to proclaim His message. Which is good. Because I want to hear it. 

P.S. Battle Turtles is a game in which you put a laundry basket on your back and pretend to be a turtle. Typically the turtle-brothers want to battle each other, so you can hide under your turtle-shell-laundry-basket in a defensive mode, or you can run around holding the basket to your back in offensive mode making gun noises and chasing your turtle-brother. 

I’m Not Sure How to Pray

More and more often I don’t go to prayer to ask for healing, blessing, or intercession. More and more often I’m going to prayer to hear from God. To hear his affirmations of his love for me, or to hear a specific message, or to get clarity on his direction on a decision. And even more so, more and more often I just want to sit with Jesus and feel his closeness. I care less and less about prayer requests. Not that I don’t pray for my loved ones, but I am less and less sure that I have any idea of how a particular situation should unfold, and I’m not in relationship with God for the benefit it brings me. Rather, I’m just wanting to be in connection with Him. More and more I’m surrendering to God’s ways, and wondering how I can help others surrender and find comfort in that surrender. 

Of course, when someone close to my heart is struggling, I still beg God to make their way easier. But I’m learning that what I want for myself or another may not be God’s best. And I certainly don’t want to be asking for God to give anything less than his best. So I struggle with prayer requests and intercession. Because Im just not sure what to ask for. And I know that the Bible is clear that we can intercede on behalf of another and that God honors our repeated requests. But I’m starting to see that my prayers for people are much more focused on spiritual growth than praying for specific circumstances. 

I just don’t know if God wants you to have the job you’re interviewing for. I just don’t know if it’s best for your grandmother to be able to stay in her home instead of going to Assisted Living. I don’t know if your child passing 2nd grade is the best thing, or if him repeating a grade is part of God’s mysterious plan for him. I’d really like you to have a safe trip and strong relationships with your in-laws, but I don’t really know how that should come about. I truly hate that you’re sick, and I’m so glad that we’ll all be healthy in heaven, and I know that Jesus loved to heal, but I also know that sometimes God allows suffering, and works through our pain, and it’s all pretty confusing to me, and I’m going to trust that God knows better than I do. I am pretty sure that God wants you to be patient and loving, and I’m sure that being close to God will give you peace. So I tend to pray those things. Whatever your circumstances are, I want you to be walking with Christ; with His spirit within you and His love shining through you. That’s my desire for you. The rest I’m not so sure about. But I know that wholehearted living comes from being intimate and honest with God and people, and that you are loved beyond what you can imagine and that gives you worth. And the depths of my heart wants you to lean into that love. 

And when my 6-week old baby was in the Emergency Room at the Children’s Hospital struggling to breath, I knew that probably everyone assumed we were soliciting God for his life. And I knew others were praying for his health. But Brent and I both had a strong sense that asking God to spare his life was not what the Spirit was leading us to do. And honestly? Neither of us prayed for God to give us our baby back. Without talking to each other, Brent and I both had experiences of surrendering our Baby to God. Neither of us were sure that his survival was God’s will. And each of us told God that was ok, and we both felt pretty nauseaus. Brent faced the story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac, and he was quite sure that God was asking him to have the same willingness. And I could see, almost like a vision, the veil of death and felt the strong reality that death isn’t final and our baby dying was not the end of his existence, and him being on the other side of that veil wasn’t really so terrible. I also told God that I would surrender my child if God asked that of me.

Looking back on it, it seems strange but also not. We were asked to surrender instead of petition. Don’t get me wrong, I am so very grateful that our baby is now a flourishing 7-year old. But there was a moment in that ER where it was quite clear to me that he isn’t mine.

I don’t know what to pray for, but I do know how to pray. Your will be done. Your kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven. For sure, I don’t hardly ever know what God’s will is, and I certainly don’t know what God’s kingdom looks like or how to make it “come” to earth. But I know what it feels like to surrender to God. And when I get a chance to come alongside God’s Spirit bringing the Kingdom to earth, I want to join in. So those are my prayers. Surrender. Love. Give. Do what God is doing. 

Turning Toward

John Gottman is probably the foremost psychological researcher on marriage. His work is brilliant and academic, but yet he has managed to write books for the regular married folks. He has a quick little read called The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work. While this isn’t a Christian book, it has vast applications to Christan marriage.7 principles

While all 7 principles in the book are necessary, there is one in particular that I find to be both critical to our marriage, but also extremely difficult.

Turn toward each other instead of away

It is stated so simply, yet I find this principle to be the most difficult of all marriage skills. When I’m angry or disappointed or hurt, everything in me wants to run away from my husband. I want to hide my hurt. I want to shut down. I want to ease the pain with a glass of wine. Escape is my temptation. Sometimes I physically roll away from his side of the bed. Sometimes I pretend I just can’t fall asleep without a mug of tea, so I can escape downstairs.

Somehow, I find a way to turn away from him.

In these moments, I believe I deserve to be pursued. Apologized to. He should admit that I’m right after all. I shouldn’t have to turn toward him. He should turn toward me, and maybe even chase me a bit. So I turn away.

But never once have these type of escape methods lead to a healthy resolution of whatever type of disagreement/hurt/pain we are struggling with. Not once.

But if I turn toward him, without anger or accusations, we can usually find a common ground. Sometimes that common ground is simply an affirmation of our love for each other. Sometimes there is resolution of the issue at hand, but usually not right away. Because typically the fight isn’t about the fight. Usually one of us has felt disrespected or hurt or unprioritized or unwanted, and that’s really the problem that we’re having.

I really hate the humility it takes to turn towards. It isn’t my nature to relinquish my rights. The hurt can feel so big, and it is. But the issue usually isn’t, because it‘s not the issue at all. What I need is to feel respected, loved, prioritized, and wanted. And so does he. This type of love is a dynamic, life-long pursuit.

And the only way to begin that pursuit is to stop turning away from each other, and turn toward. It took an expert psychologist to figure out that a relationship requires that we not run away from each other when we’re in pain. It seems pretty obvious, but in the moment it takes all the strength and trust you can muster. Let’s gather our courage and Turn Towards our spouses. These are the only types of marriages that are real.

A Laughing Matter

In 2009 we added a newborn to our family, giving us a 4 year old, a 2 year old and a newborn. I didn’t sleep much. And I don’t remember much. But I do remember giving out a lot of snacks, and I remember washing the tray of the high chair with one arm while holding a screaming baby in the other arm. And diapers. I remember so many diapers. (I never once got one child potty trained before the next baby was born). I remember waking up “in the middle of the night” to feed the baby and finally getting him back to sleep, and I’d quietly tiptoe out of the room and sooooo-slowly creak the door closed… only to be met in the hallway by a hungry 2-year old ready for breakfast at 5:13am. The days seemed so long (they actually were, since they started at 4:30am), and sometimes the bedtime routine of 3 kids under 5 was more than enough to push me into insanity. Needless to say, by the time all of the kids were in their beds, Brent and I didn’t have a lot of energy for emotional or physical intimacy in those days.

That began the only phase in our marriage where we had a regularly scheduled date night. Every Tuesday night a babysittter came to our house from 6:00-9:00pm. This was as much about dodging the bedtime routine 1 out of every 7 nights as it was about tending to our marriage. Life was just so.much.work.

I am not kidding. We were so tired. In addition to the 3 VERY small children, Brent was having a very intense time at work, and was working late hours and coming home very tired. We scheduled date night for Tuesdays because it was nearly impossible for us to get through the 5 workdays without a break. So, date night was never a very exotic event. It wasn’t about doing something fancy. It was just time away together.

Almost every week, you could find Brent and Heidi at La Hacienda Mexican Restaurant in Fayetteville drinking margaritas and eating chips and salsa. Our conversation wasn’t deep and spiritual. We didn’t hash out conflicts. You know what our marriage needed? We needed to laugh together. Home life was so rich and full and wonderful, but it felt like hours and hours of work. And we worked well together. But we missed having fun together. I missed being the girl who lit him up, and he missed being the guy who made me giggle.

Now that exhausting baby is 9 (and he’s really great). I still look back on that crazy year as one of my favorites because of that laughter at the Mexican restaurant. And lately, we’ve been sorely missing regular date nights. So we’ve made some really difficult choices to eliminate some activities from our family’s schedule, because we are not willing to sacrifice having time to laugh together. It’s been hard to prioritize our “fun” over our kids’ activities. But we needed to.

How often do you and your spouse laugh together? Maybe we should start to see a lack of laughter in our marriages as a warning light that indicates our marriage needs some attention. Is your warning light on? How can you add laughter to your marriage? Let’s prioritze our spouse relationship before it is a crisis.

Annoying Kids? Or Depleted Mom?

Some days the kids just seem so extra super annoying. Am I right? What is wrong with them? Did they have too much sugar or caffine? Not sleep enough? Did they secretly band together to ruin my day?

I suppose it’s possible, but after a few years of having these supremely awful days every so often, I had a realization. My kids are actually not really any more or less annoying on any given day. The only thing that really changes in this equation is me.  What changes is that my attitude and ability to offer patience and love diminishes on some days.  It took me a while to realize what was different about these awful days. And it wasn’t the kids. The bad days are the days that I’m depleted. I’ve neglected caring for my own needs. I’m left lacking in every single Fruit of the Spirit. I’m not loving, joyful, peaceful, patient, kind, good, fathful, gentle, or full of self-control. That equates to a cranky Mommy.  If the kids seem extra intolerable, it is far more likely that I haven’t slept well, or I have some unmet emotional/spiritual/physical needs that I haven’t cared for.

In fact, I now use my kids’ annoying-ness as more of a barometer of my own self-care. If the kids are really bugging me, I know it’s time to look at myself. What unmet needs are pulling me down? Do I need some alone time? Prayer? A date night? A cry? Am I hungry? Do I need an early bedtime? Do I need help with housework? Time in nature? Or do I need deper self-care, like therapy, spiritual direction, or intercessory prayer? Or perhaps I need a major life change?

In general, I’ve started to treat myself like a toddler. If I have no patience for a schedule change, or I am crying over little things, or I am throwing a temper tantrum…. I probably need snuggles or food or alone time or sleep. #toddlerlife.  Or I need therapy, prayer, or some life coaching.

But of course, sometimes the kids really do have a bad day. It happens. They have needs too. The child in question probably needs a nap, or perhaps a snack. They need you. So make sure you’re ready.

Do We Let Men Fail?

In Daring Greatly Brené Brown discusses her research about how men feel about shame and sexuality. The horror of reading this chapter is discovering that it is often women have seriously harmed our men with covert messages. We say words to encourage our men to be vulnerable and emotional, but men also hear another message loud and clear. They hear an unspoken message that we want them to be strong and protective, but never fragile. We don’t want them to be emotional and vulnerable about weakness; only their strengths. Women love it when men are emotional about their feelings of love and gratitude and generosity and puppies and babies. But how do women react when our men share a brokenness? A fault? An uncertainty or unconfidence? A failure? Or what about a really really big failure?

Wives: are you a safe place for your husband to admit his failures? How does he feel confiding in you that he isn’t sure he’s going to get the promotion? That he doesn’t know if his work matters? That he looked at pornography? That he cheated on the basketball court? That he lied to a friend, or resisted the urge to be generous to a person in need? That he worked all weekend to fix the car, but ultimately failed and now the repair will cost twice as much? Do you really want to hear about it? Can you receive his truth, and simultaneously validate his worth and competence, as well as your love for him?

Here is a quote from a man, quoted in chapter 3 of Daring Greatly, by Brené Brown.

My wife and daughters… they’d rather see me die on top of my white horse than watch me fall off. You say you want us to be vulnerable and real, but c’mon. You can’t stand it. It makes you sick to see us like that.

Later in the chapter, Brené writes:

We ask them [men] to be vulnerable, we beg them to let us in, and we plead with them to tell us when they’re afraid, but the truth is that most women can’t stomach it. In those moments when real vulnerability happens in men, most of us recoil with fear and that fear manifests as everything from disappointment to disgust. And men are very smart. They know the risks, and they see the look in our eyes when we’re thinking, C’mon! Pull it together. Man up. As Joe Reynolds, one of my mentors and the dean at our church, once told me during a conversation about men, shame, and vulnerability, “Men know what women really want. They want us to pretend to be vulnerable. We get really good at pretending.”

Ladies, this is so tough. It’s awful to be shown a reflection of ourselves and be disgusted by it. But we know it’s true. We need to offer our men a more unconditional love. They need our love and acceptance when they are weak and when they fail, not just when they are doing great things. Because who needs a conditional love? To love men well, we need to be the ones cheering for their inner worth and strength and dignity, even when their actions are failures or weaknesses. We are the ones who shout I see the real you. You are strong and worthy and loved. You are worthy of my love, not because of what you do but because of who you are. 

**Caveat: This doesn’t apply to abusive men. We don’t offer unconditional acceptance to abusive people.

How Big Should My Feelings Be?

Emotions. They can be strong. I’ve always considered myself an emotionally stable person. I’m not prone to outbursts or accusations, and I’ve got decent skills at talking through conflict in healthy ways. But what I’ve been learning is that I’m not always comfortable feeling strong emotions. I tend to minimize or try to escape when the emotions feel uncomfortable.

Isn’t that what we value? People who can share authentically and resolve conflict, but don’t get overwhelmed or out of control? But that’s not who I want to be. 

I don’t want to ignore my strong feelings out of some sort of fear of being overwhelmed. My experience and perspective is important. And knowing myself well means fully understanding my emotions and what caused them. I want to figure out my underlying need or desire that lead to those strong emotions.  

So I’ve been leaning into my feelings. Feeling them. Not turning away from them. And you know what? 

I keep crying.  

It’s awful. I hate it. Everything in me is screaming that crying is weak and stupid and a terrible communication method.  

But it’s not. It’s my body’s signal that what I’m thinking/saying/feeling is important to me. It means I need to pay attention. It’s an indication that that I’m circling my passions. I’m either sad that something isn’t as it should be or I’m delighted that something is so beautiful.  

So I haven’t apologized for crying. And I don’t plan to.  

I can’t always find words to explain why water is seeping out of my eyes. But isn’t that the point? When I don’t have the words to explain, my body still communicates.  

Apparently, I feel passionately about my kids, my husband, my job, my friends and their struggles, worship, fighting shame, justice, other people’s kids, writing, authentic relationships, my kids’ stress level, my own self-care and growth, emotional victories, cheering for other’s accomplishments, facing my fears and finding purpose. I feel no shame about these things being important to me. In fact, I’m proud that these are the things that stir my soul. I celebrate, grieve, and yearn.  

I don’t want to be a person living a life that never moves me to tears.  

And while I still hate crying. I’m learning to stop fighting it. I am grateful for its message. It’s telling me that I’m in places that matter to me. I’m involved in things that stir me. So I will keep leaning in and listening to the messages that my tears are telling me.  

Christian Parenting: More than a handout

When you’ve worked in Children’s Ministry for all of about 3 minutes, you start to wonder How can we encourage parents to influence their children’s spirituality? From my experience it seems pretty clear that the traditional method of giving parents some sort of written resource to use at home is not the assistance parents are craving. Whether it is a take-home review sheet, a family devotion, a magazine, a website or book, it is just not very helpful or useful.

Some families use a resource at home, but I find that they typically like to select their own resources. But that’s not really the issue. Because really we’ve inadvertently veered off course from the original question. We asked How can we encourage parents to influence their children’s spirituality? And then we start looking for fabulous book-type resources that we can recommend. We’re making an assumption that a resource can equate to influence. And that’s flawed thinking.

But here’s the deal:

Parents already are the primary spiritual influence of their children’s faith development, whether or not they accept that role.

Think about it. When you consider what your early perceptions of God are, you immediately start to think about the messages you were taught from your parents and the role they played in your life. The truth is, you start to think about what type of person your mom or dad was. Did they teach you that you had to earn approval and love through working hard or succeeding academically? Did they seem to never have time for you? Were they quick to forgive, or did they write shame messages about your identity? Did they struggle with an addiction and put you in a caretaking role? Were you victimized and left feeling unsafe? Did you feel protected and cared for? Did you learn that keeping the peace was what was needed of you? Did you feel safe and nurtured? These messages quickly turn into our views of God, and rewriting them is part of our spiritual growth.

So now, it’s our turn. We are the parents. And we can read our kids a devotional and take them to church (and that’s great), but the true impact of our parenting is going to be How Jesus has transformed our lives. Because our kids see more clearly than probably anyone what our character is, how we deal with our flaws and how we are loving the world around us. The best thing we can do for our kids is to let them see that Jesus is working in us to make us more loving, more generous, more forgiving and more patient. Our kids need to see that we are pursuing Him. That we fail sometimes, and in our failure we turn toward God, not away. Let your kids see that you are striving after Jesus and figuring out how to love people. Talk about these things “when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.” (Deut 6:7-9). This is so much harder than reading a couple paragraphs to your kids. This will take courage and vulnerability and time and energy.

I’m not saying that resources aren’t a great thing. And I hope you’re reading scripture with your children. But don’t forget that your kids need to see “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” (Col. 1:27) This hope is what they crave, and seeing Christ in you, will make Jesus something they trust and crave.

The Motherhood Lie

The basics of parenting are somewhat easy to figure out. You should feed and clothe your kids. You should provide a home for them. You should love them. When they are infants it is so very difficult because #nosleep and #hormones, but it is mostly clear what Baby needs. It is an exhausting and difficult season. And if you’re there, let me know because I will bring you a casserole and hold Baby so you can take a shower.

But the worst part isn’t the lack of sleep or the hormones, it’s that there’s this lie gurgling in your gut. Most moms hear this lie within days of becoming a parent, if not earlier. The lie whispers “You aren’t enough.” Soon enough this lie grows louder and louder until it is deafening. Listening to it may very well be the hardest part of Motherhood. It’s easy to let the lie become overwhelming. 

The lie has many voices. I can’t do this. All the bad in me will damage my child. Not good enough, not capable enough, not patient enough, not organized enough, not skinny enough, not beautiful enough, not smart enough, not accomplished enough, not old enough, not young enough, not creative enough. Not giving enough. I AM NOT ENOUGH

We think we aren’t enough because our kid will only eat white foods. Or because our kid stole a toy. Because breastfeeding was difficult or impossible. We aren’t enough because we work (or because we stay home). We aren’t enough because we can’t keep the house perfectly tidy. We aren’t enough because we can’t shed the last 10/20/30/more pounds from the pregnancy. We aren’t enough because our 3 year old doesn’t like to go to church. We aren’t enough because our kid came home with a note from the teacher. Or because our kid didn’t get into the gifted program. We aren’t enough because we can’t afford ballet lessons. We aren’t enough because…

Take a deep breath, Moms. 

God gave me a little gift before I became a mother. It’s a bit unique, so I’m going to share it with you. Before I had kids of my own, I worked as a Social Worker in a group home for foster children. I saw almost every sad situation you can imagine. Sexual abuse. Parents who choose drugs over their children’s welfare. Physical Abuse. Abandonment. Neglect. Every story was sacred in its own way. Every child coped with the pain in different ways. It was hard to be close to this pain. It was hard to hear these stories. These kids deserved so much more. It was an emotionally exhausting job with little appreciation. But it was one of the greatest gifts to my parenting journey. 

You see, when I hear the lie speak to me that “I am not enough” I think back to those children. When I hear the lie in my heart, I remind myself that those kids in foster care deserved a parent like me. That’s not me bragging. It’s just acknowledging that those children deserved a basic level of imperfect love and care, and I am more than able to provide “good-enough” parenting.  I’m not perfect, and my kids might end up in therapy to process me. But I’m enough. My mothering would be enough to give each of those foster children what they needed. Each of those kids deserved a mom who was willing to make sacrifices, was able to manage her past traumas without drugs, who didn’t gain control through violence or sex. A mom who cared for their basic needs of food, shelter and snuggles. A mom who shows up. 

To be clear, I’m no better than the moms whose children are in foster care. No mother chooses to not care well for her children. It is our basic desire. These moms are victims of the lie, too. These moms could be enough. Moms who have lost their children to the foster system are in their own suffering. They need our help. Please don’t ignore them, and certainly don’t hate them.

But if I’m enough of what those foster kids needed, then I’m enough to be a mom to my own children. I don’t need to believe the lie anymore. Not serving organic carrots, or any carrots, doesn’t make me a bad mom. Not taking my baby to Storytime at the library doesn’t qualify me as a failure. Yelling at my kids might be a mistake, but it doesn’t mean I’m not enough. I rarely know what advice to give my kids. I might not volunteer at the school often and I’m on my phone too much and I run out of energy and I just can’t keep up most days. But I am enough. 

But still I hear the lie most days. Especially when one of my children has a failure, another mom criticizes me or I’m fighting with my husband. But I’ve learned to recognize the lie. I see it coming. I can hear it crouching up behind me. Most of the time I can shoot down the lie before it gets to my heart. Sometimes I need to remind myself that I live in freedom. Some days I need a friend to speak truth over me. But some days I cry because I believe I’m not enough. But you know what? Believing the lie doesn’t make it true. Even when we believe the lie, it doesn’t mean that we aren’t enough. Even that is forgiven.

We aren’t perfect mothers, and we don’t have to be. There is just so.much.grace. Layers and layers and layers of grace. It washes down on us. It washes our hearts and it washes over our families. And that grace is enough.

You’re doing great, Moms. 

Settled At Home

I will settle them in their homes,”
    declares the Lord. (Hosea 11:11b)

Let’s not downplay the importance God gives to our home, being settled, and to claiming a land/space. God values the rootedness of home. He wants to give us a home and bring us to a literal and figurative place of feeling settled- a place that brings us peace and comfort. Ultimately, that place is found resting in God’s arms. But we are also given earthly places of comfort and safety.

This passage in Hosea begins with God speaking his love for the people of Israel in parental terms. He says

When Israel was a child, I loved him (Hosea 11:1)

but the people of Israel rebelled away from God, rejecting not just his laws but also the relationship with Him.

And then we read this heartbreaking account of our Father God speaking about his lost children:

It was I who taught Ephraim to walk,
taking them by the arms;
but they did not realize
it was I who healed them.
I led them with cords of human kindness,
with ties of love.
To them I was like one who lifts
a little child to the cheek,
and I bent down to feed them. (Hosea 11: 3-4)

Can’t you just hear how our Father misses his children? He’s always been there caring for us.  His love is not receiprocated. He’s being rejected. Can you imagine being the parent of a child that wanders away?

Then He gets real with His kids. We’ve all been there. Sometimes a bit of angry-parent is what our kids need to fall back in line. You might call it “losing your mind” with your kids. Sometimes we step across the line and need to apologize, but that’s not what happens in this passage. Sometimes it’s just a stern voice that straightens up the kids real quick. It’s not always bad. In fact, God nails it. He roars like a lion at his kids, and they tremble and shape right up. That cracks me up; I’ve been there.

They will follow the Lord;
he will roar like a lion.
When he roars,
his children will come trembling from the west. (vs. 10)

And something about God’s lion-roar gets their attention. We see the children respond. And then I love how this chapter ends.

They will come from Egypt,
trembling like sparrows,
from Assyria, fluttering like doves.
I will settle them in their homes,”
declares the Lord. (vs. 11)

The children come back to Dad. Our Father welcomes us back, and even “settles us in our homes.”

You know those awful days when it seems like your kids have misbehaved all day long and not listened to anything you’ve said???  We’ve all been there. The day may have included some lion-roaring at the kids. And then at the end of one of those truly awful days, have you ever just been able to forgive them for it all? Have you let all of the anger melt away, and allowed yourself to relish in the sweetness of tucking your child into bed? So has God. He settles us at home. He forgives all, and just tucks us in bed with a hug and a kiss. We can be “settled at home.”