What Is That Trophy Really Worth?

The debate over participation ribbons and trophies is alive and well. Should we reward effort in the same way we reward success? Does it matter to a child's self-esteem? I guess I wasn't surprised to hear that this debate continues to rage long after my children, the original recipients of the "participation" awards, have graduated from college.

Participation awards certainly have their genesis in good intentions, but it can be argued that the enemy of the best is the good. I went blog surfing to see what others think about this. Here are a few choice arguments I found:

From CuteMonster:

• Giving a child an award without that hard work might lead to a false sense of what the real world is like. What if a high school junior doesn’t study for his SATs? Will he still get a good score? Will he get into a good college? The answer is likely no.
• Working hard, regardless of winning or losing, should be celebrated.
• . . .where I think we cross the line is when we award subjective winners, such as rating artistic events. There is a nuance to 'judging' that is lost on children.
• I like the idea of "participation awards" that place a value on a child's willingness to devote time and effort. 

From Good & Bad Parents:

• Why are we rewarding kids just for breathing? We need to stop rewarding kids just for participating.  This is teaching them that they should be rewarded without putting forth much effort.  They start to develop a sense of entitlement.  Children need to know that they need to work hard in order to be rewarded for anything.

From On the Pitch:

• Just a thought for another option. Last season we took 3-ring binders, sheet protectors, and construction paper and put together scrap/yearbooks for our players. It’s a great way to save money, space, and memories and add a personal touch from the coaches. Not to mention letting the players see how they grow each season. Just wanted to offer that, good ideas on both sides of the issue, the most important thing is that the kids walk away with a positive experience, no matter how you decide to recognize them.

Is there a faith question lodged somewhere in this impassioned debate? I think there is, and I think the answer to that question renders this whole debate moot. Concern for trophies ties a child's worth to what he or she does. This is very much the view of our American culture: worth is tied to achievement. In the Kingdom of God, a child's (or adult's) worth is determined by what he or she is. So if your child's activity does, or does not, provide participation awards, your child's ultimate worth remains the same.

Here are a few thoughts on worth:

From Jesus:

• Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.  (Matthew 10:29-31)

From Henri Nouwen:

• But you have to pray. You have to listen to the voice who calls you the beloved, because otherwise you will run around begging for affirmation, for praise, for success. (Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World)

 No one has greater influence on a child’s sense of worth than parents! Let them know you and God love them for who they are, and not what they do. Your love is the trophy they covet most of all.

Love Like a Grown-Up

I am going to steal, and twist, an idea from Sunday's sermon in which Pastor Skip talked about Discipleship 2.0. He pointed out that some of us have mastered the basic tasks of discipleship, and now we are charged with mastering version 2.0 which requires that we love one another as Jesus has loved us. There's a special twist on this for parents. We, the grown-ups, are required to love our kids as Jesus has loved us.

To be loved by Jesus is to be loved in spite of one's self. Jesus gives unconditional love for the person you are, even if your actions don't live up to your best self. That is how we are to love our children, and most of the time we do. As they get older though, our expectations grow, and sometimes the kids don't live up to those expectations. Sometimes they disappoint us. This is the place where it can get really messy, the place where a parent can start thinking about how this impacts me. And that's where the wedge can be driven between you and your child. That's the place where your child can start to think he or she isn't good enough or lovable enough.

This is where you need to stand up and love like a grown-up. This is where you need to separate the person and the action carefully. This is when you have to put yourself in your children's shoes and say what they need to hear: that you still love them in spite of the crumpled fender, the poor grade, or the bad judgment. This is not the time to withhold love or approval in hopes of teaching them a lesson. This is the time to love them with everything you have, and to find the teachable moment in the middle of it.

Too often we are tempted to say, "You know I love you but this (insert habit or infraction here) really drives me crazy." Your kid will only hear the second half of this sentence; the "but" wipes out the first half completely. So, if you must include a "but," wait until you mean it and then say it in reverse, "This (habit or infraction) drives me crazy, but I love you with all my heart."

Too late? Already have a wedge between you and your child? Reach across or around it. You are the grown-up; you have the greater responsibility for the relationship. If it needs mending, figure out how to fix it. Don't send your child to the counselor to get fixed. Go yourself and sort it out with a neutral party, make a plan, and reach across the chasm to restore your relationship - as many times as it takes.

Love like Jesus. Unconditionally. Deliberately. Responsibly. Forsaking self for the best interests of others. You won't do it perfectly but he'll love you anyway, because Jesus loves like a grown-up!

Fasting or Starving?

Lots of people are swearing off chocolate or soft drinks for the next 40 days and calling it a fast, or a sacrifice. Some of us aren't really doing it to sacrifice; we are doing it to lose weight.  As a culture, we are extremely focused on appearance. Many people are nearly always trying to lose a couple of pounds.

Eating disorders aren't in the news as much as they were when my girls were teens but they remain a clear and present danger to our kids, especially our daughters, but increasingly also to our sons. They are serious, life-threatening illnesses. The exact causes remain unknown but it seems that self-esteem, body image, societal and family pressures, along with heredity all play a role in creating the perfect storm of an eating disorder.

The following is an excerpt from the blog Small Steps Upward written by a young woman I know who has been doing battle with anorexia for almost half of her life. She writes:

 I’m currently sitting at a coffee shop, wasting time before my group therapy session this evening. I am eating my snack, scrolling through different websites on my computer, listening to the music and the conversations that surround me. I hear the door open and a woman walk up to her friend. The first words out of her mouth are, “Oh my god, you look so thin! You’ve lost so much weight!” There’s no “hello, how are you?” in this conversation. 

Oddly, I find this to be infuriating.

I do not know these women. But, as they stand behind me, waiting for their drinks, the woman continues to praise her friend for losing weight. She then states, “I’m so jealous, you look great!”

Perhaps it’s because I’m seeking an identity outside of my size that I find this conversation to be frustrating. When did it become the social norm to make running commentaries on peoples’ appearances? How did it become acceptable to pick apart every minute detail of someone’s looks?

How indeed? Maybe this season of fasting can be a time to examine our family and personal attitudes toward food, shape, health, and exercise. How much attention do we pay to appearances? When the prophet Samuel was sent to anoint a new king, he was quite impressed with Jesse's son Eliab. "But the Lord said to Samuel, 'Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.'" (1 Samuel 16:7)

It is challenging, but necessary, for us to look into our own hearts. What do you love about your child? What do you see in his or her heart? Do you know in your own heart that your child feels loved and accepted as is? Is there anything in your heart that will cause you to send your child a message that she or he is not acceptable? Is there any doubt that your child is created in the Maker's image? Celebrate what you love about your child. Ask God to work in your heart so that you will love your child unconditionally. Unconditional love is the most powerful prevention available.

Imitation is. . .

I saw it again yesterday: a mom who imitated her child so perfectly that it made me laugh. A child who has a parent who loves them enough to mimic them is a blessed child.  Uninvolved parents can't do this - parents who are totally fascinated with their children and immersed in their role of parent can.  It's really lovely to see.

Children, on the other hand, always imitate their parents. That is grace, pure and simple.  Children adore their parents whether the parents deserve it or not.  Watch any group of children and you will see their parents emerge.  Most preschool teachers will tell you they are rarely surprised when meeting a child's parents - they can already recognize them by their mannerisms.

True love between a parent and a child may be the closest vision of God's love that we will ever see.  Adoring parents watch every move their child makes, and interpret, and re-interpret the meaning behind it. This week a mother pointed to her small child and said "he always rubs his head when he's worried".  The child, barely old enough to comprehend "worried." was indeed, at that moment, worried.  Children can be equally perceptive of their parents.  "My Mommy doesn't feel good.  She's got those lines between her eyes" was an unsolicited observation by a very sharp five-year-old.  And, sure enough, they soon excused themselves, Mommy citing an impending migraine. 

We've all seen a brother torture his sister by aping every move she makes: "Mom, he's copying me" immediately echoed, usually in unflattering squeaky tones by, "Mom, he's copying me."  And whether it's brother/sister, brother/brother, sister/sister imitation - it's a connection born of relationship, a natural expression of sincere affection.  With my girls, I noticed that I could always tell when one of them made a new friend because suddenly, a new catch phrase, attitude or habit would invade our home, with no apparent source.  Some of these imitations were short-lived; others moved in and became part of the family. 

Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but it is also one of the truest indicators of love. We can imitate those we love because we watch them with great intensity, and we spend as much time as possible together. We are fully immersed in the relationship.

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your mind, and with all your strength, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself. Familiar words.  If I look to God with the eyes of a child and, in total adoration, imitate what I see, how will I look?  Will I, like the preschool children described above, adopt enough God mannerisms that you will learn to recognize God from watching me? Which God mannerisms will your child pick up from watching you?

Being a parent is a large calling. Don't be afraid; you're never alone in this. The Parent of us all is available as a model. You just have to imitate. 

Generation to generation

This morning I was treated to an exercise class for seniors and people who are generally out of shape (read ME) and the leader introduced a concept of intergenerational “movement” which appealed to me a great deal. She brought back a memory: Long ago, when I was in high school, I was taught to do the polka by my date’s father, while his mother taught him. This was kind of an amazing experience since I had never been to any kind of dance where there were people who weren’t my peers. Later, as my date and I tried out our newly acquired skills, I was enthralled to watch his parents, who had probably been dancing together at least 25 years, tear up the dance floor. That long ago date’s mother passed away last year and this was the first memory of her that came to me when I heard the news.

Another memory in the same thread: In my freshman year of college I was totally engrossed in the college experience when a professor asked if anyone in the class babysat. Chronically in need of cash, and a very experienced babysitter, I raised my hand. After an evening with his small children I became achingly aware of the absence of children on the campus. I realized that it truly was a place apart, and on some level I don’t think I really wanted to be there anymore.

One other thought: My eldest daughter is in her 4th year of seminary. Except for the year away at internship, she has been an integral part of a family who lives close to her school. While she is technically their employee, they treat her as part of their family.  This relationship has been tremendously enriching to her, and, I would wager, to them as well. In the course of her duties she has met four generations of that family and they have met her, and her husband.

We are built for community. In families it may be blood, or it may be love that binds us together. In the church it is water that makes us family. In the nation, it is history that binds us one to the other. We belong, whether we choose to participate or not.

Family is a powerful binding, but it’s not always practical or even healthy to live near one another. Community IS family – only bigger. And real communities and real families are intergenerational. I believe that everyone needs to know people of more than two generations (their own and their parents.) My children didn’t grow up near either set of grandparents but through telephone and e-mail and summer vacations they still know the love so generously given. And, when they come to visit me, they have many surrogate grandparents who are interested in their lives, in their stories. This is community. This is family.

It’s a win-win to make an effort to reach out to other generations and include them in our lives. Let’s listen to their stories and tell them ours. And, in the words of Steven Stills, (from about the time I learned to polka) “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with!”

Of dogs and children and kingdoms. . .

It’s the dog days of summer and “Rex-the-Wonder-Dog” has come for his annual visit. Rex’s summer care was originally my younger daughter’s job and when she left for college I let him keep coming because he’s such a marvelous animal. Last night, he and I watched a fantastic special on PBS called Through a Dog’s Eyes. The program is about service dogs and is both fascinating and inspiring.

The creator of the film, Jennifer Arnold, clearly loves dogs, and she loves people enough to breed, train and match dogs with children and adults who need service animals. The skills the dogs can learn, and the intuition they exhibit with their owners, is phenomenal.  The publicity for the show claims it will make you see your own dog in a whole new way, and, while Rex is only my dog for a couple of weeks, after watching it, I have to acknowledge some of his more “spiritual” qualities.

First I must commend his UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. Every day when I return from work I am greeted with joy. When I take the garbage out and return in 5 minutes, I get the same greeting. I feel like the most important person in the world when I walk through the door. I have done nothing to deserve this joyous welcome but he gives it unsparingly, with his whole being.

Another admirable Rex quality is a FORGIVING HEART. Yesterday I sent him away with a loud and annoyed voice as I was getting ready for work. It was clear as he departed that I had really hurt his feelings. Yet, when I emerged, clean and dressed, he greeted me as if I’d never spoken harshly to him at all.

Rex is also totally AUTHENTIC. He asks for exactly what he wants: scratching on the kitchen wall means “my bowl is empty”, scratching on the door means “I need to relieve myself” and head-butting means “Hey, I need a little attention here!” When he has been on the couch he acts guilty – truly a dog without guile.

You may be wondering what all this has to do with children or faith.  Well, children also love us unconditionally, forgive us when we fail them and are totally authentic. Studies have shown that children from even the worst possible homes still love their parents. Perhaps this is what Jesus meant when he said “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” (Mark 10) I think the kingdom of God is far simpler than we "mature Christians" want it to be. If children get it, then what makes it difficult must be something within us, and not part of the kingdom itself. Is it possible that we complicate things just to make ourselves more important in the equation?

Maybe what we really need to do to be the children Jesus describes is to stop looking at ourselves, and our needs, and focus on the good and gracious giver of all. When I consider everything that God has done for me,  I am overcome with wonder. And I think that’s what goes on in Rex’s mind when he looks at me: “She feeds me.  She opens that door – I love her!”  Likewise, children look at adults and are always aware of everything we can do that they can’t – “She can drive a car! She can swim! She knows when I’m getting into something I shouldn’t!” – and they love us, enough to want to be us.

Although I only get Rex for two weeks a year, and my own children are grown, I get to spend time with children nearly every day.  With their unconditional love they give me a little window into the kingdom, and I am truly blessed!  And - in case the jury is still out for you - I think that all dogs DO go to heaven!

Hold fast to the steadfast

I feel like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz today: “My goodness! People come and go so quickly here!” In just the past few days I’ve experienced:

• a visit with my daughter and her husband,
• the arrival of a bevy of day camp counselors,
• the death of a friend’s father,
• the departure of some college students usually in my orbit,
• people returning from vacation
• people leaving for vacation,
• the arrival of a new co-worker,
• the end of one camp and the start of another,
• a visiting dog
• the unexpected gift of an orchid lei from across the ocean.

I wonder what effect all this coming and going has on all of us. It is exciting, to be sure. Is it healthy? I’m not certain – but it must be at least as healthy as never going anywhere! It certainly helps us be aware, and appreciate, that only God is steadfast.

People come, people go; I come and go, but God is ever steadfast. My time zone, or state, or continent is of no consequence to God. Like air, like water, God is simply there. Never sleeping, never traveling, never absent nor away, God waits, steadfastly, for me to notice.

If we look for God, like sailors navigating by the stars, wherever we may find ourselves, we can orient ourselves by looking for God. In this crazy tornado of a week I have spotted God in so many places:

• in the sun rising over the lake
• in the passionate heart of a young person
• in the unconditional love of a child (and a dog)
• in kindnesses shown between people
• in the forgiveness of my sins
• in the synergy of a group of people at work
• in the stubborn grasp of a flower growing through a crack in a rock
• in the music of the blues mass
• in the words on the page of a good book

Like the star that our planet revolves around, God is always there. Though I may spin on my own axis and experience periods of light and dark – God is steadfast, God is light, and God is my home where ever I may be. And, to quote Dorothy Gale a second time, “There’s no place like home”.

After tornados or travels or travails, come home. The steadfast One waits.

Path of Least Resistance

Someone told me recently that when she visited the Grand Canyon the ranger who described the formation process of the canyon said “Water is lazy; it always takes the path of least resistance.” I laughed out loud when I heard this because thinking of carving the Grand Canyon by taking the path of least resistance is a delightful irony! Yet look at what the water has done by simply going where it can! What if the path of least resistance is the path God is calling me to follow?

This is an almost incomprehensible thought. We are so indoctrinated to the concept of goal setting and hard work that we actually resist doing things that are easy. Instead of celebrating, and investing time in the things that come naturally or call out to us, we tend to work harder at the things that don't come naturally to us. Bookstores now have entire sections devoted to self-improvement. What if the creator made us for something specific and gave us the gifts we need to do it?

As parents, we reflexively focus on the single B on a report card studded with A's instead of whooping for joy at the child's great achievement. We make a note to pay more attention to the homework from the class with the B instead of looking to see which subject had the highest A and asking our child to tell us about it. What if we sent them to summer camps to celebrate their gifts more often than we sent them to tutoring to shore up their weak spots? Would that look more like unconditional love?

Our incessant striving to improve is caused by our inability to comprehend infinity. We can’t see ourselves as infinite. We see ourselves as finite, with beginnings, middles and ends like TV shows or short stories. We can’t see God’s love as infinite. We think our only opportunity to achieve or serve or matter is through the things we do within the span of our life on earth. And, we want tackle projects that allow us to see them finished. I suspect that most of the important stuff we set in motion will not come to fruition within our lifetime. Who knows what contribution our children's children will make? Who knows what the consequence of a simple act of kindness will be? God only knows. Only God knows. And only God knows what my path is and where it will go. Perhaps God draws us toward our paths by making them places we want to go; places where life is joy and work is pleasure and where we meet less resistance?

The Grand Canyon was formed over the last 40 million years and continues changing to this day. Could God's path for me also be the path of least resistance? Jump in. Let the breath and water of God carry you along the path of least resistance for a spell.

Water into Wine

I went to a very lovely wedding over the weekend. . . it was a joyous occasion and I was so glad to be able to share in that joy. As the best man and maid of honor offered toasts to the newlyweds, I got to thinking about Jesus attending the wedding at Cana and turning water into wine. My stream of consciousness went something like this:

I wonder who was getting married at that famous wedding? How was Jesus connected to the bride or the groom? Did he bring a gift or was the wine his present? I can't turn water into wine but I can turn it into ice or steam. Can Jesus turn water into wine as easily as I boil water? Will he do it for as many different reasons as I boil water? Silly rambling thoughts . . .

Walking WET

Many years ago, when I was very young, I was a chaperone to a group of even younger people at a National Lutheran Youth Gathering in New Orleans. The theme of that year's Gathering was "Walking Wet" and that phrase has infused my theology ever since. Living life as a baptized person means a lot of different things. . .

• I am never alone. The Holy Spirit, the Comforter, is with me where ever I go, no matter what the circumstance.


• I am part of a huge family. My family now stretches across the entire planet and even across time. I have been adopted into God's family and nothing can separate me from that family.


• I am forgiven. I have been washed in those life-giving waters and though I will never be perfect, I will always be forgiven.

Celebrating the ever-present spirit, the vast family to which I belong and my forgiven state lead naturally to other concepts. . .

• I matter! I matter to the creator of the universe. I matter enough to be died for. I matter enough to be stayed with through every circumstance. Whatever the people around me think of me, I still matter. I may be insignificant in the eyes of the world, but I matter to God.


• And I don't matter because of what I do or don't do!!! The fate of the universe is not on my shoulders. My own salvation is not on my shoulders. There is nothing I can do to control the situation. God has used the waters of baptism to drown me and raise me and love me beyond any undoing!

Internalizing these ideas has left me free to float in waters of unconditional love. These ideas are pretty counter-cultural. Unconditional love is comforting and empowering in a culture that alternately tells me:

• that I am not important unless I (fill in the blank) and


• that every single thing I do is going to impact my attempts to succeed at school/job/child-rearing/beauty/health/wealth-building.

So join me in floating in the waters of unconditional love. Let's love our kids the way God loves us. Let's try loving our kids the way they love us. (God provided some pretty good role models.) After all, they don't love us for packing their lunches, washing their clothes or keeping their vaccinations current! They love us because we are Mom or Dad, or Sissy or Bubba, or Grandma or Grandpa, or friend or neighbor.

C'mon. Jump in. The water's fine!