Do you remember the shows that would make you cry? Nearly every episode?
The kids and I have been enjoying Little House on the Prairie as a break during school. We're studying American History, so I figure it applies. 
Yet, I forgot how often that show made me cry. Babies die. Pets get rabies. Hail storms ruin crops and fortunes. I look around the room at my children holding back the tears every fourth episode and wonder, "Is this too much?"
Then I remember the words of God. "Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things." Philippians 4:8. A huge part of my job as mom is to train my children how to think. Now I don't know that God meant that we should watch certain shows. But, I do think He meant us to be strategic not only in keeping out what corrupts but to introduce what brings the noble, lovely and right to life.
God tells me I'm to train them to fill their minds with the true, noble, pure, lovely, admirable things of the world. They are to focus on the courage it takes to bring life into the world knowing a disease can snuff that life out in a moment. They are to focus on putting hard work and time into a life's calling--even if a hail storm can destroy that work at the worst possible moment. They are to focus on the difficulty of hanging together as a family through thick and thin. 
Likewise they are to focus on the joy of being part of a family through thick and thin. They are to focus on the privilege of bringing in the fruits of a labor and benefiting from the skills God has bestowed. They are to treat life as precious.
I have to say I really dislike crying. But, I miss the shows that connected so deeply you did cry in their sorrows even as you laughed in their joys. I am grateful for simple ways to meet the challenge of putting the noble, admirable, and pure in front of my children. As we explore the customs and lifestyle of the 1800's through this small lens, I pray we do far more than simply augment our history books with a living picture of that life. I pray our children gain a living picture of how to focus on the best aspects of life.
Perhaps they'll even grow up to recreate the kind of show that brought the best of life to screen nearly every episode.
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I relish the view from our front porch: the sun streaming through the clouds; the birds flying from branch to branch. A gentle breeze completes the paradise. Until I open my book.
That same gentle breeze flips pages faster than I ever think possible--ripping some completely away. The wind is just a force. I know it doesn't intentionally set out to destroy my book, yet it does. Impersonal. Unintentional. At times blessing--at times destroying. How often am I like the wind?
I wonder how often words I utter--words seemingly gentle--destroy when brushing by my children or my spouse. Though I never intend to do so. How often I have wandered into a room and spoken words that ripped chunks from a heart? Ripped because, like the wind with my book, I didn't know their vulnerabilities. My disappointed response to a sales clerk that embarrasses daughter. My inquiry regarding a friend's party that reminds son that he wasn't invited. My silly joke that hits too close to husband's fear.
I'm learning the power of my words. Impersonal words can destroy--even seemingly gentle words that, in other contexts, refresh. I need to know the people I speak to--generally and as they unfold daily--so that I can pattern my words to their situation. So the words I speak complete the paradise without ripping anything away.
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