Parable of the sower.

Ten years ago when we moved into our home, we left most of the landscaping undone.  That fall we spent hours and hours(and hours!) amending the soil from it's original claylike, rocky state.  We dug and dug until we hit rocks, dug them out, tossed them aside and, when we thought we'd filtered out all the rocks we added some compost, peat moss and manure to make the soil more suitable for planting.  It worked-those garden beds have hosted box woods, arborvitae, lilies, tulips, hyacinths and various other evergreens, perennials and annuals that have graced our landscape during all the months of the year.

Life's been busy and although we've weeded and maintained existing plants, we've neglected to add compost as needed so, as I planted a few pansies last spring and dug holes to accommodate them, dozens, no, hundreds of pebbles turned up in the soil I removed.  Where on earth had they come from?  

No matter, there were scriptural life lessons to be learned.  Here it goes: the seed(or, in this case, pansy plant) is perfectly good.  It needs only a good spot of earth in which to thrive.  Unfortunately, years of neglect can turn what was once fertile soil into an unsuitable environment for any plant.  The rocks crept in, without fanfare, because I had not been paying attention.

How often do we allow false ideas, or bad habits to crowd out the good, giving little place for the seed of the gospel to thrive?  Do we falsely assume that because the seed grew once upon a time that it would continue to do so, regardless of our lack of attention to the earth in which it was planted?  Can we expect to see fruits of the gospel when we've allowed incompatible ideas to crowd out the truth that was once unspoiled?  (These are rhetorical questions, obviously).

Sometimes I wonder if our modern society and absence of connection with the earth denies us repeated opportunities to appreciate vital lessons from the scriptures.  I'm grateful that my time in the garden that day reaped not only rows of pansies, but a gentle reminder to root out the "rocks" that would stifle my spiritual growth.  

The last one.

There's something about knowing a kid is your last that forces you to savor each moment, to drink up that baby smell, shower him with extra kisses, read one more story, hold him just a bit longer.  Yes, Jack is spoiled, though that term is a misnomer.  Who can blame any parent for enjoying her baby to the fullest?  And how can that much love and attention be detrimental?  It's not, plain and simple.  We all adore this little man.

 

 

 

A healthy dose of vitamin D and fresh air.

The weather has been delightful around here lately.  So last Friday night we marched the entire family downtown to the Greenbelt for a leisurely stroll along the Boise river.  Never mind that the spring runoff has turned it into a raging source of danger(if you read the news reports).  We were in good company.  And no one drowned.

 

Dear Mrs. Jones(name has been changed).

I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.  I've heard nothing but good things about you since my oldest entered junior high.  At parent teacher conferences earlier in the academic year I could sense that everything I had been told was true-that you try to get to know each student and celebrate each individual's unique gifts, that you genuinely care for your students and strive to help them realize their potential.

For that reason, I was particularly disappointed this weekend to hear that you had referred to my daughter as incapable of "getting outside (her) perfect little bubble" because she didn't appreciate the sexual content she had encountered while reading a book on your recommended list.  My daughter is barely thirteen.  As I mentioned at parent-teacher conferences that because her instructional reading level far exceeds her emotional maturity level, we have always been concerned that the books that challenge her might contain content that is not age-appropriate.  You concurred, admitting that you yourself had skipped over a sex scene in one of the books you had read with the students in your accelerated class.

I have never been able to keep up with my daughter's voracious appetite for reading, due to the numerous responsibilities I have as the mother of five children.  For that reason, from the tender age of 8, I have instructed her to listen to her inner voice, to have the courage to skip over portions of books(or put the book down entirely) if she feels uncomfortable.  As an adult, I do that.  It is my right to filter what I read.

We, as parents, feel it our duty to teach our children correct principles and let them govern themselves.  We are both reasonably open-minded individuals who have traveled (and lived) overseas and recognize the "education" that a wide variety of experiences affords us and try to expose our children to a broad spectrum of ideas while expressing our own opinions on what contributes to a full and happy life.  Were you to sit in on our dinner time conversations, I think you would agree that they reflect that.

So pardon me when I take issue with you "shaming" (for lack of a better word) her preference for innocence.  She has every right to dislike a novel that offends her conscience and does not align with her ideals.  I am proud of her for her discernment and ability to censor the content she determines to be detrimental to her education.  We applaud people who march to the beat of their own drums, except when that drum promotes morality, apparently.  Then we call them judgmental.  Or bigoted.

There's a good chance that the information I got from my daughter and her friend was not completely accurate.  Having heard it secondhand, I acknowledge that.  I also recognize that it may not be a true reflection of your opinion.  Perhaps it was spoken light-heartedly or in jest.  I would hate to be judged by a single errant thought or a flippant response so I will refrain from passing a character judgment based on this single experience.  Still, I hope you will think twice before criticizing another seventh grader for following the dictates of her own conscience and determining the content she wishes to take into her mind.  You may think it's narrow-minded. I think it's judicious and, in our oversexualized, morally-compromised culture, even courageous.