Blood, sweat, and tears.

I have been putting the finishing touches a women's Bible study I teach on Friday mornings. I am using Elizabeth George's Woman After God's Own Heart loosely as a guide. The chapters I am teaching on this week are about "making a home", and "watching over our home". In the middle of reviewing I became convicted about the clutter that was coming close to getting out of control. Michael has been away all week and will be home on Saturday. Knowing what I want the house to look like when he arrives, I knew if I didn't do even a little picking up it would get out of control and I'd spend my entire Saturday morning cleaning house before he arrives.

So, I started with our bathroom, picking up the things Kate got out while bathing in our big tub last night. I saw my shaver there and a memory flashed from long ago. You see, Kate came out of the bathroom, towel dried with her arm cut and bleeding. The fact that she didn't scream for me (girls plus blood equal screams) from the tub meant that she got cut doing something she thought I'd not approve of. It had to have hurt, I've sliced myself like that many times and it was really bleeding. She told me that she used "that thing that I use to shave my hair" on her arm and it cut her. I bandaged her up and explained what it was for, why it cut her, and when she most likely would choose to start using it. But, I told her, whenever she felt that she needed to shave, she needed to come to me and I'd show her how to use it.

My memory flashed to the day my cousin Barbara and I decided to start shaving our legs. Barbara and I are only 2 months apart in age. She was one of 5, the youngest child, who's dad was killed by a drunk driver when she was 5 and her oldest sibling was 12. Her mom, my dad's oldest sibling brought her family to our town where we lived within blocks of my dad's parents and his youngest sibling and her family. We cousins, there were 10 of us, would spend time together constantly. Even in school, the Andersons were together and occupied every grade and every school. As Barbara and I grew older we often watched, no stalked, her older sister Linda. We pretty much got our cues from her. I even chose to play the clarinet in band many years after we moved away because Linda played it. That's another blog post...

So the day came when we discovered that Linda shaved her legs. I can't remember the details, just that Barbara handed me a shaver and away we went. It wasn't long before Linda caught us and told us that we were too young. I didn't know why we were too young and don't remember if I even asked her why she thought that, I only knew that I wanted to appear to be "older" so I kept shaving my legs. It wasn't until my father started to complain to my mother that she was ruining his shavers by using them on her legs that my mom deduced the truth. She came to me and asked me if I was shaving my legs.

Honestly, the whole thing wasn't a big deal and she really didn't care, she just didn't want me to use dad's shaver anymore. She told me that it never dawned on her that she needed to talk to me about shaving my legs and told me that her mother never talked to her about anything and the first time she shaved her legs she thought she had to remove the whole top layer of skin in order to get rid of the hair. OUCH! Mom really never talked to me about much of anything. Her mother didn't and I guess she just thought I'd figure it out. Mom and I are great friends but I think about the things that she and I missed out on because she allowed me to discover them on my own.

That's not what I want for Kate. I want her to realize that if she wonders about anything she can come to me without me "freaking out". I have learned to pick my battles and am comfortable with the battles I've chosen to pick and those I've chosen to let go. Others may battle things that I wouldn't. It's OK because the Holy Spirit speaks to us in different ways and every family is different. I work hard to make sure Kate, and the boys, know that asking me about things doesn't indict them. And I work hard, sometimes REALLY hard, at masking any emotions that may make me appear less then confident. I want them to come to me, to us, for answers, opinions, even to vent. Of course, ultimately I want them to go to God's word for those things too but we are the first step in that process and my confidence in the answers I give from His word convince them of the confidence that they too can have there.

I want a relationship with Kate and my boys that far exceeds the one I have with my mom. I want it based on the foundation provided by God and it doesn't happen without a lot of work. Blood, sweat, and tears is an understatement but when we have the conversations that really matter because they wouldn't consider discussing those issues with anyone else - THAT's when it will all be worth it.