Discipling the Body


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Deep Work: The perils and possibilities of social media

One of my favourite authors and thinkers is a scientist named Cal Newport. He’s written several books, but the two that have resonated with me are a great career book called “So Good They Can’t Ignore You” and a book on how to truly do your best work titled “Deep Work”. His latter book and follow-up blog posts are large reason that I’ve finally deleted (not deactivated) by Facebook and Instagram accounts (I still have Messenger and twitter for the time being).

Get the book and read it for yourself, or read these great blog posts:

How We Sent a Man to the Moon Without E-mail and Why it Matters Today
[http://calnewport.com/blog/2014/10/04/how-we-sent-a-man-to-the-moon-without-e-mail-and-why-it-matters-today/]

Spend More Time Managing Your Time
[http://calnewport.com/blog/2015/11/03/spend-more-time-managing-your-time/]

Alexander Hamilton’s Deep Work Habits
[http://calnewport.com/blog/2016/04/08/alexander-hamiltons-deep-work-habits/]

On Social Media and Its Discontents
[http://calnewport.com/blog/2018/03/20/on-social-media-and-its-discontents/]

Beyond #DeleteFacebook: More Thoughts on Embracing the Social Internet Over Social Media
[http://calnewport.com/blog/2018/03/25/beyond-deletefacebook-more-thoughts-on-embracing-the-social-internet-over-social-media/]

On Digital Minimalism
[http://calnewport.com/blog/2016/12/18/on-digital-minimalism/]

I (nor Cal) am not saying social media can’t be useful. My wife uses it all the time to buy and sell children’s items at a great discount. There are many groups that are provide valuable information and connection. For most people however, I venture to say that there is little real value.

I have considered one day restarting my account and not having any friends. Just having it for the purpose of being part of certain groups. But, I fear the temptation would be too great for how my mind works. I’m very all or nothing, not great at achieving moderation.

As I said, I have kept Messenger because it does provide a convenient way to stay in touch with friends. I have also kept twitter for the time being for a very specific purpose, but it too can go at any time.

Do a serious audit of what you use social media for and the opportunity/cost is to your life. We all have the same amount of time available to us. Will you use it to do your best work, or take in more low calorie information?

I still have those moments when I think of something funny or interesting to post, but this was life before social media. You perhaps sent an email, or saved it to tell someone the next day. Or you just laughed and forgot about it.

You do need time to relax, we can’t be serious all the time. I spend too much time on Netflix, but we all must have our vices.

Hope you enjoy the articles.


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Two struggles of being a parent of an autistic child

I hate that I have to care.

I recently found out that a local theatre company (Young Peoples Theatre) offers relaxed performances, suitable for autistic children and other who find loud noises and darkness a barrier to attending live theatre. This isn’t a new concept, movie theatres have been doing this for a while.

I had taken acting classes through YPT when I was a child, so I was really happy that they continue to innovate and be a good community partner. At the same time it made me cry. I hate that I have to care about this. I love both my sons. One has autism, the other is neurotypical. They are kind, smart, and funny kids.

But I hate that I have to care about all these extras. Finding the movies, the theatres and the experiences that are easier for him. I hate that we have to live a Tetris puzzle schedule to get him to pre-school and different appointments with his occupational therapist, different educational opportunities for my wife and I … and trying not to neglect our youngest son.

One of the hardest parts of having a child with special needs, especially autism, which is essentially an invisible disability, is that to others, we may look like we have it all together. It ain’t so. We’re tired, worried, and stressed. We fight to get out children ready to go out. I know, most parents are saying “so do we!”. Well, all I can say is: either your children is an undiagnosed autistic, or I can’t really make you understand. The difference is the frequency, duration, and reasons for his behaviour. He doesn’t meltdown because he’s being obstinate, he’s melting down because there’s something that doesn’t compute. His inputs are messed up and his wires get crossed.

I love him dearly, I really would’t change anything about him. He’s the child God gave us and I’m excited to see him grow. But, I hate all the extra stuff we have to manage.

 

Invisible disabilities

When someone gets sick, like really sick (Cancer, breaks a leg), their immediate community of family and friends can rally around them. People organize meal trains, respite care (babysitting), laundry, or other help. When your child has an invisible disability like autism, people can’t see it and they can’t understand it, so rarely does the calvary come. We’re very lucky in that we have a chance every week to get away for a few hours for a date night. We’ve always been able to secure funding for a respite care worker a few hours a week (well, we can do whatever we want, but the funding is limited, so we ration to make it last). We have a great worker and our son loves playing her. She works with him on his skills and development).

On the other hand, when people ask if there’s anything they can do, I feel guilty asking them for help, like a meal. One one hand, this isn’t something that is just going to end. Aidan, God willing, will have a very long life, and there will be different stages of this as he grows up. Are we going to ask for help until he’s in college? There’s nothing wrong with asking for help and if people offer, I suppose you should assume they are asking out of a genuine desire to help.

I’ll do whatever we have to to help our son have fulfilling life. But, I don’t have to like what we have to go through to do it.


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I didn’t sign up for this . . .

You’ve been up all night and day. Not a wink of sleep. Whenever you have a moment to sleep, you are torn between cleaning and tidying up your messed up dwelling or trying to catch some zzz’s. Whenever you choose the latter, the second you hit the pillow, the cries of your newborn wakes you just seconds after you close your eyes.

Through your tears you hold your baby, bouncing, soothing, whispering to them that it’s ok and they can stop crying. Why won’t you stop crying? Are you dirty? I’ll change your diaper. Are you still hungry? I’ll feed you one more time. I’ve done all that, why won’t you stop crying? Do you have gas? I’ve been trying to make you burp for an hour. I heard a couple of small burps, even a big one, but you still won’t stop crying.

Please Lord, I just want to sleep.

I didn’t sign up for this.

Parenting is hard. Especially your first. Especially the first three months.

While I believe there is lots we can say about the awesome responsibility and privilege that is raising a child, it drives me beyond insane when I see people overly romanticize parenting; especially those initial three months. You can be told over and over again that parenting is hard, but until you endure it, you can’t truly be shown to an adequate level of understanding what that means. Unless you’ve been through painful, prolonged sleep deprivation, you can’t know what it’s like. You certainly don’t know what it’s like when the reason you can’t sleep is the cries of your child. The cries of this child who has only one way to communicate with the world and it’s through their tears and their silence.

What do those tears mean? That is for you to detect and figure out. Sometimes there is no answer.

May the Lord have mercy on you if your child has colic.

Our first child (we have two) had colic. Hours long, virtually non-stop crying episodes in the middle of the night. How many times I saw my wife, after trying for hours to calm him, would walk out of his room in desperation. Tears spilling out, wondering how she’s possibly going to deal with this one more minute. There was little I could do to support her, other than listen and comfort. I had to work after all, and that requires driving, so I needed my sleep too. At least a modicum of sleep.

That’s not being supportive, some say. You should have taken turns, swapped out and given her a break.

Maybe. Maybe, you’re right. This is the reality of parenthood. Someone does the lions share of child care and one does the lions share of making money so the roof stays over our head, the food stay in the fridge and the oven and lights turn on. Sometimes, this means an unequal distribution of the hard stuff. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of early morning drives where I would take our son on a drive, which would settle him. I would take him 15 mins south to the lake. The sun would dawn and we would both sleep. It was exhausting, but I also knew it was giving my wife at least a couple of hours of sleep she desperately needed to get through the day. Then I would go home and sleep. Missing a day of work. I used half my yearly allotment of sick leave in one month.

The first days of your first child can be extremely difficult. Or they could be easy. But, if you tell me they were easy, I’m not going to believe you. If for no other reason than I don’t want to think it could have been easier. The 100 days of hell were just that. We became the living, walking dead. Able to function on an almost primal level, but not much beyond that. Work, when I was able to go to work, because I had had enough sleep and could safely drive, became almost like respite care. A time to get away from the terror of the screamer.

I love my son. And my other son. I learned that you can love someone even though they cause you so much grief and hardship. Intended or not. Love is a choice you make. Every. Single. Day. In those 100 days however, it seemed that the spectrum of time was sharply reduced and it became an hour by hour decision, if not minute by minute.

The reality is that holding a screaming baby close to your chest, puts their mouth right next to your ear, making the screams that much louder and visceral. They cut you to the core. You want to simultaneously fling the baby away from you and at the same time hold them closer. Holding them closer: hoping that you can make them stop if they just feel your breath, your heartbeat, your love a bit more. It doesn’t help. Sometimes love isn’t enough to make someone else’s pain stop.

This is the beginning of compassion.

Compassion is a desire to end someone’s pain, yes. But it is more than that. It is the willingness to sit with them through the pain. To take on some of that burden for yourself. To let them know they are not alone.

Love demands compassion.

In those 100 days, we learned about compassion and devotion. I learned by watching my wife consistently recommit to our son. Bounce. Tears. Bounce. Tears. Repeat. I think that must be God’s cycle sometimes. He teaches, he prods, he pokes. We disobey. God cries. Repeat. Never giving up, never stopping, never imposing.

You can’t impose on a newborn. They don’t know what they’re doing themselves, let along what you want them to do.

I suppose in a way, I was her Aaron to her Moses. I played a supporting role. That doesn’t denigrate fatherhood or manhood. It recognizes the supreme sacrifice that mothers make and the resultant sacrifice fathers must make. Food needs to be made. Bills need to be paid. You know, the necessities of adult life. Just help her get through the next hour. The next day. Eventually those days add up to a week and a month. Then finally, 100 days hits and a switch is flipped.

You start sleeping again. You feel human again. The tears subside. You take a deep breath of relief and start thinking long term again. You’ve made it through survivor without being voted off and now you can get on with the job of raising a family.

Parenting is hard. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not. You can’t know how hard it is if you don’t have a child, and that’s a good thing. If you knew would you really do it. Parenting is a reflective exercise. Yes, there is planning. Sort of. (Can you hear God laughing?), but it’s ultimately a reflective exercise. So is much of life, I suppose.

If you are not a parent yet, are pregnant or thinking about being pregnant, I want to encourage you. You’re on the rollercoaster as it slowly rises to the top of the first curve. You’re about to drop super fast down that first mountain and you’ll feel like everything is out of control. You will get through it though. Almost every has. Spouses, remember each other. Have each other’s backs. Husbands, remember to “love your wife, just as Christ loved the church”. Support her. Love her. Cry with her. Make sure she knows you’re there for her.

If you have just become a parent and are saying “I didn’t sign up for this”, I say with love “yes you did”. There’s just no way to tell you that in advance. It gets better. It really does. Screw the fairy tales you were told. This is hard stuff. But you will learn so much about yourself, your spouse and God, if you only keep your eyes open and pay attention.

In the end, this is so worth it. Seeing your child grow and develop and learn, is one of the most awe-inspiring things I have ever witnessed or been a part of. My love for my children and my wife, continues to grow and deepen. But, there are the hard bits.

Parenting is amazing, earth shattering, terrible, horrible, and wonderful. All at the same time. Enjoy the ride.


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The Right Side of Wrong: The Value of Struggle

Adults have a problem. We learned it way back in adolescence. Actually, I think we learn it long before that. We hate being wrong. Shhh, don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell them we were wrong. We had an idea. We tried it and we failed. Failure. It sucks, eh? We must be some kind of dolt for failing. I mean, no one else fails, right? Failure is like this private club that everyone belongs too, but we all own our own clubs.

My son is 17-months old. He fails all the time. He certainly isn’t a failure. Learning to walk is hard, yo! My son however spends a lot of time learning how to stand up and find his balance. Then he falls or sits down and he tries again. This is called practice. I hate practicing. I don’t see myself getting better, because improvement usually come in increments so small, we can’t see them until we hit a milestone on the way.

My son hit one of those milestones today. He stood up and fell down, then stood up again. Then, he took 3 steps towards his mom. It was amazing. The video is above.

Did my son get frustrated if he couldn’t maintain his balance sometimes, sure, he’s human too. He keeps trying though and he doesn’t really need our help to do it. What he needs from us is encouragement, support, and healthy (safe) boundaries. He’ll figure out the walking thing on his own, he doesn’t need us interfering or telling him he failed, so he may as well give up.

If you have a skill you’re trying to master, give it time. Yes, you’re trying to get to the right “answer”, but we do a disservice if we don’t honour the struggle and attempts. If you finally decide it’s just not for you, there’s nothing wrong with moving on to something else. Just remember to take sometime and reflect back on what you’ve learned from the learning/trying process. There’s always something you can learn about yourself and how you persevere.


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3 Steps to Raising Disciples [reblog]

A great article outlining some simple principles for raising children in a Christian household.

Parents have to work hard to build a Christ-centered home and not a kid-centered home, because a kid-centered home produces self-centered adults. Parents have to constantly strive to take their kids out of the center of the family and remind them that Christ is the center.

Read the rest here.


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The key to perfect parenting is failure

 

Supermom crop

Are you a parent? Do you fail at things? Welcome to perfect parenting.

My son is almost 4 months old and he’s freaking cute and awesome; he’s such a gift. Generally, when you’re about to become a parent one refrain you’ll hear repeatedly from other parents is too expect to fail; don’t expect perfection.

I think that’s both true and false. To my mind, with my vast 3.5 months of experience as a parent to a single child, I believe failure is perfection. What would it even mean to be a “perfect parent” anyway?

We all know, I hope that our children will learn best from our actions more than our words. There’s a lot we need to model for our children and surely among the most important is to model the process of failure and recovery. Failure generally brings about a need for perseverance and the Apostle Peter wrote “5 For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, 6 and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, 7 and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love. “.

Sanctification is not an event, as much as a process on our way to holiness. Part of that process involves times of failure and struggle met with perseverance and learning.

We don’t do our children any favours by trying not to fail. Certainly, we should avoid putting our child in the microwave or leaving them in the car overnight, but everything I think is up for grabs. The absolute worst thing you can do is compare yourself to other parents. Besides, someone, somewhere, is probably comparing themselves to you and think you’re doing a pretty awesome job.

So, embrace the mess, embrace the screw ups, embrace the perfection of your imperfection.


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Mission Accomplished

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I have always struggled with self-esteem issues; feelings of not feeling good enough, etc, etc. Prompted by a good friend, who reminded me that I have “everything I ever wanted out of life”, I have been reflecting on exactly what those things are. SO, here’s the list I’ve come up with so far:

  1. Get married to a beautiful, intelligent woman
  2. Start a family
  3. Graduate from my undergraduate
  4. Complete a triathlon
  5. Debt-free
  6. Attain ideal weight
  7. Graduate from seminary
  8. Complete an Ironman by the time I’m 40

I have accomplished 1-5. Should get #6 out of the way the end of the year (If my son says it’s okay), and 7 & 8 will take a few more years. I’ve actually done #4 many times now at the Sprint distance, so that goal is well smashed.

So, what exactly am I feeling down about? This was a good perspective shift for me. It is also a good reminder of why we all need awesome friends who can reflect reality back to us.