My Kids Are Weird

Weird. She called my kids weird. To. My. Face.

I suppose I should have taken offense but instead I smiled. I blame my response on Craig

Groeschel. Ever since I started reading Weird: Because Normal Isn't Working the way I think about the word has been transformed.

When she called my kids weird, because they are kind to each other. For the most part, they get along. They refer to each other as best friend. This just isn't normal.

Often in parenting our goal is to make our kids typical. We want them to fit in, get along with their classmates and generally be a superior reflection of their parents. Rarely do our goals extend to the way they treat their siblings. They are expected to be rivals - to be at their worst at home. You know kind of like their parents.

But what if we chose to parent differently? What if we chose to give our families our best and to expect our kids to do the same? Would people think we were weird? Probably.

Would some people think we're bad parents because our kids choose each other over their peers? Likely.

But would it be worth it? Definitely.

My kids are weird. I'll admit it. You might even think I'm the worst mom ever. But I really don't care...probably because I'm weird too.

What would you do if someone called your kids weird? Would you consider it a compliment or an insult?

List-less

For in Him we live and move and have our being.

Acts 17:28

Listless. 

It conjurs a picture of slothlike movements. I imagine a indescript person aimlessly adrift in life. I never thought I wanted to be described as listless. Until I read this description of Jesus in Weird by Craig Groeschel:

He was busy but never hurried. He was productive but never overwhelmed. He accomplished everything God wanted him to do and still spent long, refreshing days in fellowship alone with his Father.

Jesus lived, moved and had His being in His Father, His heart securely fastened there. He took up residency and refused to entertain a for sale sign no matter how loudly life's difficulties growled at the perimeter of His heart's property. He taught us to abide in Him because He knew we could nothing without Him (John 15).

Sometimes during the holidays, I imagine myself wrapping up a gift for Jesus. He doesn't care how fancy the paper or elegant the bow. His only concern is the contents. This Christmas I want to offer Jesus an unexpected gift - to be list-less.

Instead of proving my worth by the number of items depending on me to cross them off...

Instead of slaving for the scratch of the pen...

Instead of finding significance in what I do..

I want to be list-less in His arms. I want to live, move and have my being celebrating the One who listed my name on His hands and His heart.

I want to be busy but never hurried.

Productive but never overwhelmed.

To accomplish everything He asks while still spending long, refreshing days in fellowship with Him.

Absolutely. List-less.

If you could give Jesus a gift for Christmas, what would you choose?