The Minivan Years Page 5

  When my children walk into our house, I want them to experience the kind of nurturing environment I missed as a child. When Shaun comes home from a school awards assembly feeling like an academic failure, I want to be there for him emotionally—surrounding him with praise for his many talents. I might be having a bad day myself, feeling frustrated, unappreciated, or depressed. But he needs me to play a heroic part, shaking off my self-pity and leaving my seat to wrap myself around his fragile spirit. Only then can I increase his odds for survival; only then can I redeem painful times to help him thrive through the mini-hurts life inevitably will bring.

  * * *

  Mini-Tip

  REFUGE

  You never know when a mini-hurt will occur in your child’s life. Quite often, those hurts are caused by an unkind classmate or some other person outside the protective walls of your home. Establish a set of family rules that make it clear to your children that your home is a refuge from the disrespect and survival-of-the-fittest mind-set common in the world. The rules can be whatever you think will affirm each child’s identity and self-image—such as “No rude comments” or “No put-downs in jest,” etc. The key is setting, modeling, and enforcing them.

  CHAPTER 8

  Mini-Sleeps

  REVITALIZING BEDTIMES

  Before entering the minivan years, going to bed was a relatively straightforward process: easy going, like driving on the open road with nothing to hinder a delightful trip. When I got tired, I slid between the sheets, closed my eyes, and escaped the cares of the world in a cloud of temporary indifference. Certainly, I had my share of late nights—especially during finals week in college or grading papers as an elementary school teacher. But once I crawled into bed, sleep took over.

  Since having children, going to bed has been more like driving in heavy traffic—kind of a start–and-stop activity. When I get tired, I try to find the sheets buried somewhere beneath the pile of disheveled pillows and blankets. Before I can get there, I am summoned by the cry of a child. It might be a baby screaming for a bottle. It might be a toddler demanding a drink of water or a preschooler begging for “one more book” before they fall asleep. It might be all of the above in a single evening; start, stop, start, stop.

  I must confess, on those nights when I am particularly exhausted from a long day catering to kid demands, I’m sometimes tempted to dole out doses of cough syrup thirty minutes before bedtime. Just once, I’d like to skip the bedtime routine of watering, reading, tucking, and retucking to hear nothing but the sweet sound of unconscious children in dreamland while I drift away beside my sleeping husband.

  As it is, bedtime includes a long litany of obligations that must be met before I can close a single eye. And on the top of the list is a nightly routine that must be followed without amendment for four-year-old Nicole (and hence any of the rest of us) to get any sleep at all. It goes like this:

  Step one: Floss and brush teeth.

  Step two: Go potty. “I know you think you just went, but that was twelve hours ago. So try to go again so that you don’t wet the bed!”

  Step three: Eat a bowl of cereal. “What do you mean you’re hungry? You just ate dinner two hours ago!”

  Step four: Floss and brush, take two.

  Step five: Read one book. “Okay, three books. But make them short ones!”

  Step six: Crawl into bed and tuck in the sheets, Barbie blanket, and bedspread.

  Step seven: Close the blinds and click on both small lamps with the green lightbulbs before turning off the main light. “Those are just shadows, not monsters on the wall.”

  Step eight: “You’re right, sweetie, I did forget to pray. Let’s hold hands . . .”

  Step nine: Select a stuffed animal from dozens sitting atop the nightstand.

  Step ten: Find the “go to sleep” music CD and start the first track. “No, I won’t turn it up. This is loud enough.”

  Step eleven: Shut the door but not completely. There must be a three-inch crack to allow some of the hallway light in and Nicole’s voice out in the case of some imagined emergency.

  Step twelve: Wait just outside the door, since her first question, “What are we doing in the morning?” will come shortly.

  Step thirteen: Repeat any preceding step as required.

  Keep in mind, I am usually a walking zombie by the time I’m putting Nicole to bed. I just want her to fall asleep, fast. Then I want to go and do likewise. So, after several months following the same routine, I faced a crossroads: I could either commit myself to an asylum or recommit myself to making bedtime an enjoyable experience. I decided to choose option two and live on the wild side by making step nine more interesting.

  I should explain that the process of selecting a stuffed animal for Nicole to sleep with takes much longer than it sounds. Because she likes the process more than the outcome, I found myself holding up one animal after another every evening until we went through the entire collection of twenty-something creatures. Only then would she choose.

  Particularly tired one evening, I decided to outsmart my daughter by introducing a little game into our routine. They say necessity breeds invention. I selected two animals from the pile and gave each a voice. Taking turns, they begged a wide-eyed Nicole: “Please sleep with me!” “I’m better. Please pick me!”

  Delighted by the animated conflict between potential bedtime companions, Nicole played right along. After momentary reflection, she chose Ms. Poofy Pink Bear—setting up my next big act.

  “Will you sleep with me next time?” Winnie-the-Pooh’s tearful voice inquired. “Pleeeeeeeease?”

  As Nicole promised the next bedtime to Mr. Pooh, I grinned, because she had fallen right into my trap. Not only had I cut five minutes off our bedtime routine that night, I had eliminated step nine altogether for the following night!

  Troy, then seven years old, had been watching the entire episode while waiting for me to finish up with Nicole so that we could begin his routine. As I glanced his way, Troy gave me a big smile of approval.

  “Mom, you are the best! That was such a good idea. Nicole loved your mini-drama. I can’t get over how fun and brilliant you can be when you put your mind to it. Two thumbs up!”

  Okay, that might be a bit more than he said. But that’s what I heard.

  I had figured out yet another way to make life fun for my children. That I was tired and trying to cut down an extensive routine for my own interest is beside the point. All that Troy saw was Mom loving her kids enough to keep things interesting.

  Now, if only I could figure out a way to make a spoonful of cough syrup seem like fun!

  In the famous passage of Scripture in Deuteronomy commanding parents to introduce their children to God, we are told to talk about His commandments “when you lie down and when you get up” (6:7, NIV). He must have known about the endless process of lying down and getting back up that occurs every evening with young kids! I have resigned myself to the idea that parental exhaustion is part of His grand design, and my husband and I have tried to take advantage of bedtime to create and capture meaningful moments with our children.

  For the little ones, we discovered something called bedtime blessings—a concept we learned from our good friend Dr. John Trent. John’s book The Blessing highlights the importance of blessing our children in tangible ways, such as meaningful touch and words of affirmation. A great time to give both comes at the end of the day when I take my son or daughter onto my lap and read a favorite book together. What we read is not as important as the time we spend reading. As I’ve seen in the lives of all four kids, the time invested in unhurried, sweet interaction pays tremendous dividends in the child’s emotional security.

  After reading together, I pray with the child while gently touching his or her arm or shoulder. Often, that prayer is one I’ve taken from the book Bedtime Blessings Volume 2, a series of bedtime readings and prayers specifically designed to help moms and dads turn bedtime into a time of blessing. Here is a sample of one bedtime bles
sing you might try:*

  Let’s Play a Game

  FUNNY BUNNY

  Tonight’s game is Funny Bunny. Funny Bunnies are word-pairs that rhyme. Like “funny bunny” or “kitten’s mittens.”

  Here’s how you play. One person thinks of a Funny Bunny, and then gives a clue to the other person so they can guess what it is. For example, I might be thinking of a “hoarse horse.” My clue would be: “animal with a sore throat.” Or, I tell you I’m thinking of an “animal’s chuckle.” The right answer would be a “calf’s laugh.”

  Okay, I’ll start.

  [Here are a few to get you going:

  tin bin

  rat hat

  boy’s toys

  dollar collar

  mouse house

  bear chair.]

  Wasn’t that fun? Let’s see if we can think of Funny Bunny nicknames for each of us, before we spend time talking to God.

  [Use your first names, family names—Dad, Mom, Son, Daughter—or other words that describe you to create your rhyming nicknames.]

  Dear God,

  Thank you for ____________ [your child’s name] and our family and the care You provide for each of us. Watch over us as we sleep and refresh us so tomorrow we can be alert to all the blessings You have in store for us.

  Amen.

  As you can see, the prayer allows parents to make the experience personal. In fact, Nicole often asked for “the book that is about me.” I gladly obliged.

  In another Bruner family bedtime tradition, I lie next to one of the kids on their designated evening to chat for fifteen minutes before he or she drifts off to sleep. The topic of conversation is chosen by the child. We have found that some of the most profound spiritual discussions of the week occur during those fifteen minutes of uninterrupted dialogue.

  As our older boys have evolved from lap- sitting kids to whisker-growing teens, bedtime has taken on a whole new personality. Once my husband and I finally get the little ones blessed and to sleep for the night, we enter our bedroom to find two lanky teens sitting on our bed to begin their nightly routine of connection. (For some reason, they most want to discuss the particulars of their day just when Kurt and I are ready to collapse or spend some private time together.) But neither of us mind; we recognize how important blessing our children through conversation can be. Those conversations have ranged from questions about God to school assignments to friend situations to current events.

  And so it goes. Someday I will once again know what it means to get to bed at a decent hour. In the meantime, I’ll continue trying to make bedtime in the Bruner family a blessed event.

  * * *

  Mini-Tip

  ON THE SCHEDULE

  Select which night per week you will lie down with each child and put it on the schedule. If it doesn’t get on the calendar, it doesn’t happen. If the child knows which evening is his or her designated slot, he or she will not expect it all the time. Also, when the child plans for a specific evening, he or she will remind you—holding you accountable to actually do what you might otherwise skip.

  CHAPTER 9

  Mini-Faith

  INFLUENCING SPIRITUAL TIMES

  At four years old, Nicole tried to understand and express one of the most profound mysteries of Christian faith—the doctrine of the Trinity. I know, I know—some of the greatest minds in the history of the church have argued and debated how best to articulate a single God in three persons. But Nicole found a way of cutting straight to the chase.

  “Jesus lives in your heart.”

  Half talking to herself, she looked like she was trying to sort out a complicated algebra problem.

  “God lives in your heart,” Nicole continued. And then, as if suddenly fitting the puzzle pieces together, she smiled. “Jesus and God are in your heart. Both of those guys are!”

  Well, she may have a bit of contemplation to go before fully grasping Christian theology. But she is hopefully well on her way.

  As we were pulling out of the church parking lot one Sunday, Kurt asked then five-year-old Troy the first of two questions expected of every parent after Sunday school.

  “How was class today?”

  “Fine.” A halfhearted reply.

  My husband mindlessly spouted question two while looking into the rearview mirror.

  “What was your lesson about?”

  Troy glanced up from his incomplete craft paper project, mustering just enough apathy to reply.

  “Oh, God again.”

  When Kurt first told me about the interchange, I chuckled at the naive innocence. Of course the lesson was about God! But then I became concerned. As a periodic substitute Sunday school teacher, I wondered how many kids sitting under my instruction yawned and responded similarly to their own parents. Am I—are we—boring kids with the most important truths in life?

  Fast-forward several months to another scene. In the minivan on a four-hour drive, we listened with our children to the Focus on the Family Radio Theatre adaptation of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. As my husband described it, silence overtook all of us “as we endured the dreadful scene of Aslan’s death on the stone table. A deep sadness rested upon nine-year-old Shaun as he absorbed the injustice and loss.” Like so many children, he loved the great Lion—creator and defender of all that is good in Narnia.

  Moments later, Shaun’s grief turned to celebration as he realized Aslan was alive again—risen from death to deal the evil White Witch a mortal blow. “The gloom of death overtaken by the delight of resurrection, Shaun could not contain his excitement. ’That’s just like Jesus!’ he screamed from the backseat.

  “Like most kids raised in Sunday School, Shaun had heard the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection literally dozens of times. It had become routine, expected, perhaps even boring.” Following Troy’s lead, he might have responded to Kurt’s Sunday morning question about his lesson with an apathetic “Oh, Jesus died and rose from the dead, again.” “But through a fantasy tale that had none of what Lewis called ’stained-glass and Sunday School associations,’ Shaun was caught off guard—surprised by the most wonderful and potent truth of Christian faith.” *

  Such is the power of story to baptize a child’s imagination in truths better experienced than studied. It is one thing to sing Jesus choruses and memorize John 3:16, both of which are vitally important to every child’s faith journey. It is another thing to hang on every word of an exciting tale that points to transcendent realities. While one can be useful, spoon-feeding truth to a child, the other makes him want to eat.

  A recent survey by Public Agenda found that over 60 percent of parents want their kids to develop a strong religious faith. * Among Christians, passing the faith to children consistently ranks as a top parental concern. Kurt and I consider helping our children know and love God our highest priority. That’s why we helped found the Heritage Builders Association (www.heritagebuilders.com) to provide moms and dads with the inspiration and tools necessary to turn that “want to” into reality. But first, we had to learn a thing or two ourselves about the heritage-passing process.

  There is toothpaste all over the plastic-covered table. Our kids are having the time of their lives squeezing the paste out of the tubes—trying to expel every drop like Dad told them to. “Okay,” says Kurt, slapping a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, “the first person to get the toothpaste back into their tube gets this money!”

  Little hands begin working to shove the peppermint pile back into rolled-up tubes—with very limited success. We are in the midst of a weekly routine in the Bruner home during which Kurt and I spend time creating “impression points” with the kids.

  “We can’t do it, Dad!” protests then five-year-old Shaun.

  “The Bible tells us that’s just like your tongue. Once the words come out, it’s impossible to get them back in. You need to be careful what you say, because you may wish you could take it back.” An unforgettable impression has been made.

  Impression points occur
every day of our lives. Intentionally or not, we impress upon our children our values, preferences, beliefs, quirks, and concerns. It happens both through our talk and through our walk. When we do it right, we can turn them on to the things we believe. When we do it wrong, we can turn them off to the values we most hope they will embrace. So Kurt and I have tried to find ways of making this reality work for us, rather than against us, creating and capturing opportunities to impress upon Kyle, Shaun, Troy, and Nicole our values and beliefs.

  Fast-forward to another impression point on a different evening.

  The kids are all standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting eagerly for Dad’s instructions from up top.

  “I’ll take you to Baskin-Robbins for ice cream if you can figure how to get up here.” He has their attention. “But there are a few rules you must follow. First, you can’t touch the stairs. Second, you can’t touch the railing. Now, begin!”

  After several contemplative moments, the youngest speaks up. “That’s impossible, Dad! How can we get to where you are without touching the stairs or the railing?”

  After some disgruntled agreement from the other kids, Troy gets an idea. “Hey, Dad. Come down here.” Kurt walks down the stairs. “Now bend over while I get on your back. Okay, climb the stairs.”

  Bingo! Kurt proceeds to compare this simple game to how it is impossible for us to get to God on our own. But when we trust Christ’s completed work on our behalf, we can get to heaven. Another lasting impression is made. After everyone takes a trip up the stairs on Dad’s back, the whole gang piles into the minivan for a double scoop of mint chip.

  Years ago, when our oldest was only five, Kurt and I learned to set aside time each week to intentionally impress our values and beliefs on the kids through a weekly ritual called “family night.” By creating object-lesson-based games and activities that reinforce our faith, the kids have fun and we pass on our spiritual heritage. The power of family nights is twofold. First, it creates a formal time and setting within which we can instill spiritual truths and character qualities into our children’s hearts. Rather than defer to the influence of peers and media, or abdicate faith training to the school and church, we create opportunities to teach our kids the things that matter most.