In My Mother's Eyes

On March 27, 2017 my mother passed away unexpectedly. In keeping with her life of giving, upon her death her corneas were donated. I’ve often wondered about the older woman who now continues to see through my mother’s eyes. I’ve written a poem that might portray what my mother’s eyes are rejoicing to see in heaven, yet continue to see on the earth.

                                            In My Mother’s Eyes

In my mother’s eyes the essence of beauty is reflected,

while on earth she’s still connected.

My mother’s eyes gaze upon streets of gold,

 and apostles and prophets of old.

Do my mother’s eyes still see purple mountains majesty?

Do they often moisten at life’s tragedy’s?

My mother’s eyes have seen angels, and know them to be true;

all the while gazing through the window at birds that flew.

My mother’s eyes have seen God’s glory,

while helping another woman see the rest of her life’s story.

My mother’s eyes transfix on costly stones,

yet gaze in wonder at instrument’s glorious tones.

My mother’s eyes have seen again loved ones she once knew,

and yet another enjoys the beauty of grandbaby number two!

My mother dreamt of cobalt blues,
and today she gazes upon heavenly hues.

My mother’s eyes behold heavenly things,

whilst another mother enjoys God’s created beings.

On a crisp September day, my mother’s blue eyes lit up the room

as she gazed adoringly at her handsome groom.

And one day when your life on earth is through,

my mother’s eyes will twinkle as she

gazes lovingly at you.

When the aged eyes close for the final time,

and a heavenly chorus chimes,

my mother’s eyes will see the reflection of the face that

continued seeing through the gift of God’s grace.

And So the Adventure Begins...

On my final Monday morning in Houston, I gaze around my empty living room, and thank God for the wonderful memories we have made in this home. Tomorrow the movers will arrive drawing our time in Houston to a close, and a new chapter in our family story will begin.

Although I’m looking forward to moving to the Texas Hill Country (unlike most people I actually enjoy moving), I feel somewhat emotional, and I begin wrestling with my feelings. I fight to believe how quickly the years have passed, and that we now have two teenage daughters and a “tween” young man. While I have grown accustomed to moving every two-three years (Houston has been our longest stint at 4 years), I want to be sensitive to the fact that new beginnings have many exciting aspects; however, they also can be difficult, especially for kids. Our children have been through several military moves, but they’re older now, so moving has bigger implications in each of their lives. Saying tearful goodbyes to close friends are heart wrenching not only for them, but as a watchful mother as well. A wave of apprehension grips my heart. Did we make the right choice? Did we allow discontent to drive our decision? Should we have stayed? Did we pray enough? But then my heart is quieted, remembering the sovereignty of God, and the truthfulness of the Word, “The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps” (Proverbs 16:9 ESV). We are on his path, and it's a path we’ve been seeking prayerfully for the last two years.

Immense changes are coming in the next couple of weeks. Moving to the beautiful Texas Hill Country, Lenny will begin a new job, we’ll begin searching for a new church family, and our daughters will walk through the doors of San Marcos Academy to continue their academic careers beyond the scope of the homeschool classroom they’ve always known. I’m excited for this opportunity that God has laid before them, but I guess I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t say my heart is a bit torn at the fact our time together learning at home has drawn to a close. I didn’t realize as we closed the last book of their 7^th and 9^th grade years that they would be embarking on a whole new adventure next fall. God has been abundantly gracious in the years he has given me to nurture and teach my children at home. I cherish the time, memories, and countless conversations. I’m thankful for the laid back pajama days as well as the friends we’ve met along the way. Time indeed passes quickly. I remember well our first year of homeschooling as I nervously launched on this somewhat crazy notion to educate my children at home. Armed with Deuteronomy 6:4-6, Abeka curriculum, and an adorably decorated classroom, we set to work! Even when you’re unsure of your steps, we can rest assured in the One who ordained them. He has been abundantly faithful through nine years of homeschooling, and I’m confident that his faithfulness will continue in our move to San Marcos. I’m excited to explore new places with my family, become involved at San Marcos Academy, make new friends, and enjoy the open door(s) God has in store for us. And so the adventure begins… 

Risk Taker

Would you consider yourself a risk taker? I wouldn't. I've always regarded myself as a "safety girl," preferring options with as close to a guaranteed outcome of little to no loss as I can get.  The gut honest truth is: I like my comfortable life. In fact, I probably like it a little too much. I live what millions would consider the "American Dream." I may not have a white picket fence around my home, but during my married life we've always had a steady source of income that's afforded us nice homes, amenities, a well-stocked pantry, closets of clothing, two vehicles, and the ability to extend generosity to others in their time of need. All of this so called "stability" recently came crashing down with one open door, and our decision to step out in faith and take a risk. 

For the past two years my husband and I have been praying for God to open a door for us to move away from the fast paced city life of Houston, TX.  Being a retired military family who is used to moving every couple of years, we quickly grew restless with the craziness of city life, resenting every agonizing moment spent in traffic, and lamenting the simpler country lifestyle we left behind. This is not to say we didn't have great things going for us in Houston. My husband worked for one of the best school districts in the area, and was well-regarded by his boss, peers, and students. We had a great homeschool community that provided excellent resources for our children. We even have family in the area; however, in the four years we've lived here, we lacked for close connections, and never really felt "at home." This feeling of discontent didn't appear to be a fleeting emotion no matter how many times I brought it to the Lord in prayer. My husband and I agreed, Houston wasn't the place the Lord was calling us to stay, but where was He calling us to go?

We began praying and seeking possible job opportunities, but for two years we ran into road blocks and the right opportunity didn't seem to reveal itself. In May, my husband stumbled across a listing for a JROTC position at San Marcos Academy in San Marcos, TX, and decided immediately to apply. (If you're familiar with the beauty of the Texas Hill Country, you know exactly why he jumped at the opportunity, not to mention is was a Christian school)! However, with this opportunity came risk. We knew if offered the job we'd lose a significant chunk of our income. Was it worth it? Was God really calling us to go? Do we really have faith that God will provide, or do we just offer lip service to the idea? This open door was about to put our faith to the test, and reveal the idols of my heart. 

My husband interviewed, and was offered the position. We had already been in prayer concerning God's direction for our family, and although we can't say we had supernatural indicators for accepting the job, we did feel that we had prayed for wisdom and discernment, and choosing to say yes to this opportunity felt more alive than the safety of no. Stepping out in faith means being willing to leave idols behind.

Five days after my husband submitted an early resignation (allowing the district ample time to find his replacement without leaving them with a simple two week notice and no instructor to begin the new school year), he received a phone call advising him that his contract would be terminated effective by the end of the week. So, right off the bat our faith is being put to the test! Termination means no paychecks for the next month and a half until he starts his new job, and oh by the way, we had just signed a contract on a new home in San Marcos. Buying a home and being unemployed don't exactly go hand in hand. 

So, we began to tighten our financial buckle in an attempt to stretch our final paycheck as far as it would go. Adjusting our grocery budget is something I had never had to do, and frankly, my flesh was screaming for ice cream, chips, and anything not deemed "necessary." We already had tickets to attend the Father's Day Astros game with my dad, but saying no to all things ballpark related revealed the ugliness of idolization in my heart. The immature, entitled part of me was demanding ball park foods: hotdogs, cotton candy, peanuts, soda (how can you enjoy a game without such things)? It was then that I realized I wasn't content with just being. Being with my family and being thankful for what I did have:  a ticket to the game, spending Father's Day with my dad, and being surrounded by my family and screaming fans.

Two weeks later, just when we thought the move would transition smoothly, we lost the contract on our home. The potential buyers got cold feet and walked. So, our faith is once more being tested. I am absolutely confident we are walking in the will of God because the opposition is fierce. Although I struggle with "counting it all joy when I face trials of various kinds" (James 1:2), I am certain God will see us through even though I can't see the way. There is a thrill knowing God is directing our steps, and is in sovereign control of our situations, even those situations that we find disappointing. The thing is, we can't learn to trust God without risk, uncertainty, humility, and vulnerability. 

Although we are in the middle of a storm, and we can't see how the difficulties we're facing will turn out, we can rest in the fact God is strengthening our faith and teaching us to trust in him alone. He is our provider-not the school district and not the potential buyers, and he will work "all things out for our good" (Romans 8:28). Here is what I'm most excited about-all of this struggle means Satan is trying his hardest to keep us from moving and to lose faith. Why? When God opens doors, it is not solely for the benefit of those to whom it was open. The benefit is for those we will meet along the journey. For those we can share our story to encourage them along in theirs. It's for those who need to hear the gospel to whom we are being sent. It is for God's glory and our sanctification. 

Trusting God's Promises

Five days before the death of my mother, the Lord had an important lesson to teach me. He brings my mind back continually to this day as I pray and attempt to understand what his plans are for our family.

On a foggy Wednesday morning with glimpses of sun pouring through the clouds, I set out to drive my children, along with my son’s friend, to the Houston Science Museum. In order to arrive at our destination on time, it was imperative that we take the HOV lane to avoid the morning rush hour traffic. I am not one for traveling downtown because the challenge of Houston highways and bumper-to-bumper traffic always re-introduce me to anxiety, frustration, and stress which I’d like to avoid as much as possible. However, I had no choice this particular morning due to a scheduled class that my son was enrolled.

          As we piled into the car and began our journey downtown, in the back of my mind I knew the HOV lane entrance was a bit obscure, and knowing the importance of taking the express lane, I began petitioning the Lord, “Please don’t let me miss the entrance. Please don’t let me miss it!” As I was reciting my request and drawing closer to where the entry point should be, my eyes were searching frantically for the entrance, when about that time my daughter and I realized the entrance we needed lay on the other side of a concrete barrier. I had missed the entrance. My stomach immediately twisted into a stress-filled knot, as anxiety flooded my spirit. I asked my daughter to look at Google Maps to hopefully deny my dreaded fear that I couldn’t stay on I45 and make it downtown on time. Of course my suspected dismay was confirmed, and the map suggested an alternative route. Having no other choice, I took the recommended exit and asked the Lord to guide us safely to our destination.

          Since I’m not originally from the Houston area, (and I’ve shrugged off my husband’s attempts at explaining the multiple highways), I didn’t know the suggested route would have us traverse through areas I prefer only to hear of on the Houston evening news! As I came to the realization that we were not actually driving through what I’d deem as “safe” neighborhoods, considering the bars on the windows of businesses and homes, it only served to solidify the knot in my stomach. Since my initial prayer was not answered in the affirmative, my next prayer was, “Lord, please don’t let my van break down,” which I can gloriously report that He did answer with a resounding, “Yes!”

          As we continued on our new suggested course, my oldest daughter was co-piloting our excursion to keep me on our new route. This was a double-edged sword. I needed her guidance; however, she feeds off my anxiety (which I’m none too quiet about), thus leading us to grumble with one another thereby adding to the ever-growing knot in my stomach. Not being familiar with the route, I didn’t want to miss a turn, but remember the fog I mentioned? Of course it blanketed heavily closest to the roads on which I needed to turn! It was at this point the Lord whispered to my spirit, “Trust me when you don’t understand why and you can’t see your way.” Little did I know at the time that a short 5 days later my life would be changed forever at the sudden passing of my mother, and how much I would need to rely on this lesson from the Lord.

          It’s been one month today that I received the difficult phone call from my aunt informing me of my mother’s passing from this life. As I’ve journeyed through these weeks, I’ve prayed, doubted, questioned, petitioned, and lamented, crying out to the Lord for comfort, grace, his plans, and renewed joy. As a major prayer (to live closer to my brother and father) has continued to receive a “no” from the Lord, I felt deep disappointment in addition to my grief. It was then that I came across a profound statement in Vaneetha Risner’s book, The Scars That Have Shaped Me, which said, “We want grace that delivers, but often overlook the grace that sustains.” I sat pondering this thought questioning myself. Have I made an idol out of deliverance while scorning God’s daily sustaining grace? Have I somehow disfigured the gift of sustaining grace as “merely getting by?”

          We say that we want lives full of meaning and depth. Lives that are marked by fruitful growth, but in order for fruit to grow abundantly, rain is needed. Reformed, evangelical theologian D.A. Carson writes, “One of the things held out to grieving or suffering believers is the prospect of being more fruitful than they could ever have imagined.” Most of us long prefer sitting by the beach soaking up the rays over rain filled, umbrella carrying days; however, the spiritual growth that we deeply desire doesn’t come through sun soaked relaxing days, it’s cultivated in the down pours of anguish and grief. God has a greater purpose for my sorrow than I can perceive, and nothing else on earth can change our hearts like suffering. God allows affliction in our lives to draw us closer to himself while promoting compassion, wisdom, love, and kindness in our hearts towards others.

          In the early morning of March 27, 2017 several hours before I’d learn of my mother’s death, I wrote in my journal, “Lord, I say it’s my heart’s desire to glorify you, but what I see revealed is often to the contrary. Rid me, Father, of my selfish, one-sided desires and fill my heart with selflessness, humility, and a willingness to bear all things in love. Take my self-centeredness, intolerance, and irritability, and turn them into kindness, patience, and love. Help me not to give into the weight of stress and panic. Free me from burdens I place on myself that you never gave me. I want to be the healthiest version of myself-physically, spiritually, and emotionally. Show me the way. Let me not have a defensive, self-protective spirit, but trust you are enough-enough in me in every circumstance. I need your love to heal me in areas I don’t even realize need healing.” Little did I know God would begin answering my prayer through the death of my mother. Death has a way of re-framing our perspective which allows us to perceive life through a different lens. I wonder if I would have prayed this prayer knowing how He would answer. Honestly? Probably not. But, his response to our prayers, despite whether answered in a way we desire, are always for our good and ultimately for his glory.

          Life continues differently after the death of a loved one. After the initial condolences by friends, you’re left alone to contemplate, grieve, and heal. As the days continue to pass, and God continues his work of healing and growth; there are times when I am desperate to sense his presence, but simply don’t. It is in these moments when I can’t feel God’s presence that I must trust his promises. He is doing a deeper work than I can imagine according to Philippians 1:6 NASB, “For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.” I will continue to trust him when I don’t understand and I can’t see my way.

Life in the Shadow of Death

Life in the shadow of death is a perplexing whirlwind of reflections, deliberations, and theorizations while staggering to bear the weight of a sudden collision with grief. Shock is a horrifically peculiar feeling. It’s a strange “other worldly” experience of not comprehending anything, yet understanding everything. Shock sends my otherwise steady legs tumbling, and my lungs gasping as my whole inner being is racked with uncontrollable sobs tearing through my body and resonating with the Father’s cry on Calvary. Scripture floods my memory and I cling.

My mind spins contemplating my course of action. My husband lovingly instructs me through the fog. This forty-two year old woman needed someone to tell her what to do: Get a flight. Leave to today. You need to go home. Care comes in the form of tiny hands gingerly packing my bags; while I will my mind to think coherently, and my feet to tread the necessary steps that have been dictated by a phone call. A call which I knew to expect at some point in my life- just not today. The answer, at least for one, has been given to my New Year’s Eve question which I’ve been asking myself for the last six years, “Is this the year I’ll lose one of my parents?” The answer is hollow and numbing.

I am emotionless as I make my way through the airport to board an unexpected flight. After finding my gate, I locate the women’s restroom because when your mama dies, you find a stall, put on praise music and worship your way through the pain.

Life in the shadow of death leaves you grappling with emotions from sadness to laughter and back again. The Scripture exclaims, “Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Cor 15:55) Sitting on this side of heaven the sting is real. It’s painful. It’s pursuing and unrelenting. Life goes on, and everything has changed, yet everything is the same. The lens in which I gaze appears gray and dim, all color has been chased away. Glimmers of light, of love, and laughter seek to penetrate the shadows cast by death through constant reminders of life being lived before me.

Memories taunt me as they pass in my mind’s eye bringing joy mingled with sadness. Always a mingling of sadness for that which is no more, but the guarantee of heaven is my enduring hope. Each day mocks me, daring me to make today what will be a memory tomorrow. Memories are a double-edged sword to be cherished; while at the same time they tenaciously inflict the stinging reminder that death looms for all and suffering is no respecter of persons. After all, the One that forgave my sins and captured my heart is knowns as “A Man of Sorrows.” How then could I expect less? But, I wonder: What was Jesus’ countenance while “being acquainted with grief?” Did it show on his face? Did he lament to others? Did he hide behind a less than genuine smile? How does one “count it all joy” when one can barely think to count?

Life in the shadow of death leaves us desolate and pining for the emptiness to cease, the quiet to implode, darkness to illuminate, anxiety to quiver, and fear to hide. The deserted rooms once filled with a lively essence are now uninhabited except for the evidence of life once lived within its walls. Everything sits untouched just as she left it. My eyes take it in-do I dare touch or move anything? Her red purse is on the couch filled with that which is personal. I watch my father, tears streaming down his face, fumble through the inner pockets…questioning…lamenting. I’m inexperienced in this fate and everything seems surreal. I expect her to push her walker into the room at any moment, but the moment never comes.

Life in the shadow of death threatens with depression, and leaves me grappling for days filled with joy. This in turn racks me with guilt knowing there’s much to be thankful, and my children need their mother. But, how do I shake the immutable thoughts that relentlessly pummel my mind threatening to take me under?

When the anguish of funeral plans are made, final resting places chosen, and the finality of this life hits you by virtue of a “circus rose” laden casket; the only way to stand is to be supernaturally held by the One who stands in victory over this messy thing called death.

As I daily put one foot in front of the other, pressing on with the days I have allotted, my vision is a little clearer, my focus is a bit sharper, time has become more precious, and family is worth more than words.

Teresa Cianciotto
4/13/2017 Copyright

The Unexpected Call

                                       
            The phone call took me by complete surprise. It was an ordinary homeschool day with my kiddos, and we were just finishing our morning subjects, almost ready to break for lunch when my cell phone lit up with a call from an unknown number. Typically I will allow phone calls from “unknowns” to go directly to my voicemail, especially during school time, but for some reason I hit the little green button to accept the call.  A woman on the other end says, “This is Angela from The Boys and Girls Harbor in La Porte.” My mind raced hastily trying recall who this woman was and the organization she was representing. She continued, “I left you a message around Thanksgiving and never heard back, so I thought I’d give you another call. Several young boys have come into our care recently, and although your application was submitted quite a while ago, I wanted to call and ask if you and your husband are still interested in becoming a host family.” Stunned, I muttered something about never receiving her message in November and proceeded to ask the few initial questions that popped into my mind to gain some clarity over the situation.

Let me explain why this particular phone call caught me so off guard. It was a longing of the heart that I had put on the shelf. I had given up on my desire to be a “hands-on” fulfillment of James 1:27 and had become content with sponsoring children through Compassion International.  Please don’t misunderstand. Compassion is a wonderful organization which has been life changing for our family, and I’d highly recommend sponsorship; however, my motherly desire was to live out the calling to care for orphans through a hands on approach-namely adoption.  For many years I’ve had a passionate desire to adopt. I’ve prayed fervently that God would allow my husband and I to be like minded concerning adoption, but the Lord hasn’t answered in the way I petitioned. Over a year and a half ago, I stumbled through a frenzied season of doubt, confusion, resentment, and subsequent anger. I sincerely believed the Lord had laid upon my heart the desire for adoption; however, my husband I simply were not in agreement. I struggled to understand how I could have such an intense longing that was not shared by my husband and there seemed to be absolutely no movement by God to change one of our hearts. I was fraught with despair questioning whether I had heard God correctly, or if I could even hear him at all.  I incessantly cried out to God to change my heart if he wouldn’t change my husband’s because I certainly didn’t want a desire that would never be fulfilled, nor one which was not in line with God’s will for my life. I can’t begin to explain the months of prayer, discussions, tears, doubt, disappointment, and faltering faith that ensued.  We attempted several avenues to fulfill this longing of my heart. We prayerfully considered becoming host parents for an international child during the holidays, but ultimately that door closed. We endeavored then to become foster parents, but after completing a portion of the training, the timing didn’t seem right for our family and so another door closed. Prior to these avenues, we had submitted our application to be a weekend host family for a boy in foster care through The Boys and Girls Harbor. I had placed several phone calls to the organization, but never received a return call. We went ahead and submitted our application on-line and waited. We never heard back…until a year and a half later.  

There will be times in our lives when it looks like God is doing nothing, and the desires of hearts will go unfulfilled. But, we must not give up! When God seems hidden, he is at work. We cannot put an expiration date on our dreams simply because they do not come to pass in our timing. Psalm 37:4 declares, “Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Living in a fast paced society driven by instant gratification, we simply have a difficult time waiting for the joy of our God-given desires to come to pass. My impatient flesh would love the word, “wait” eradicated from my existence, but the truth is, God uses the waiting period to birth faith in us and to prepare our hearts for the fulfillment of his promises. Sarah and Abraham were given a promise by God when it was already physically impossible (due to age) and they endured twenty-four years of silence before they received the promised birth of their son. Often we are too busy observing the facts and limitations of our situation to keep our attention on the promise God has given us. Staring unswervingly at facts will render us faithless, full of doubt and despair because we have embraced a focus that is simply erroneous. The Apostle Paul exhorts, “For we walk by faith and not sight” (2 Cor 5:7). Our internal heart posture must be one of unswerving faith, believing God is able; not full of laughter like our sister, Sarah, who could not overcome the facts and believe God’s word for her life.

If God has spoken a promise to your heart that you have yet to see fulfilled, thank him for the promise and judge him faithful to bring it to completion. Renee Swope, author of a Confident Heart, writes, “The desires of your heart indicate your God-given passion to make a difference somewhere. God uses the desires of our hearts to narrow the focus of where he wants our lives to make a mark for eternity.” So, what dream has God woven in the depths of your heart that you have given up on achieving? What goals have you put on the shelf because they seem impossible?  What is the one desire God spoke to you years ago that you have marked, “Expired?” Don’t confuse your due date with God’s appointed time. Choose to trust God in the gap, no matter how long that may be, between the promise and the fulfillment. It may not look the way you thought it would look. It may not take shape the way you thought it would take shape. But, God is faithful to bring to pass every single word he has spoken over our lives in his perfect time. Nothing is impossible with God, not your dream or mine. 

                         

                                                   

The Popular Label

                                  
        Popular. When you hear this word, what thoughts or feelings does it dredge up inside you? If you used to be, or you’re still considered “popular,” the word probably doesn’t strike you with a sense of dread, and maybe you really don’t think much of it at all. Or conceivably it fills you with pleasurable feelings knowing that you were (or are) associated with the “in crowd.”  Popular may be one of many labels you wear, but is it the right label?
          Growing up in small town U.S.A., I wore many labels, but popular wasn’t one of them. It started in 6^th grade math class when I asked a question and a “popular” boy called me stupid in front of the entire class. Needless to say, I went through the rest of my school years not asking another question, and forever labeled in my mind as “stupid.” Entering junior high, the one thing the majority of the girls wanted was to be   a......you guessed it……a cheerleader. Of course I tried out, and to this day I can still remember the distraught group of girls who didn’t make the squad (myself included). So, my next label emerged: “Not liked,” because at that time, you were voted on by your peers thus resulting in nothing but a good ‘ol fashioned popularity contest. As middle school continued, the cliques developed, and the “pretty” girls ruled. To drive home the fact that I didn’t belong in this category either, Valentine’s Day rolled around, and the pretty girls had lockers filled with balloon bouquets and vases of beautiful flowers. The only flowers I carried were the ones that belonged to one of the “pretty” girls when she asked me to carry them out to her mother’s car for her! So, my next label materialized: “Not Pretty Enough.” Throughout the remainder of my high school years, I struggled with the labels that I was either given by others, or the labels I gave myself as a direct result of how I was treated by my peers. Labels are powerful things that directly impact the way we perceive ourselves, and the way we believe others perceive us. But, there are a couple things I didn’t understand about labels at the time. First, the only one who has the right to label us is the One who bought us which is Jesus Christ. Secondly, when we accept a label from someone else we allow them to control us. I embraced many labels through the years, and subsequently they influenced what I believed, the decisions I made, and the way I behaved.

          Fast forward a few years, and now I’m a forty-year old mom raising three kiddos, two of which are girls on the precipice of their teenage years, and already the labels are descending upon them faster than this mama can help deflect them! My heart is struggling to effectively teach my children that labels only matter if we let them, and to unconditionally love those who have labeled them; especially when those labels and exclusions are from supposed Christ followers. Yep, I said it because it’s time to face the fact that there’s a “popular” problem amongst our church kiddos. I’ve seen it on Sunday mornings, and it spills over onto Monday. Unfortunately, even as an adult I’ve experienced exclusivity and the sense of an “in crowd” within the church. Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not bashing the local church because I love the church, but I think it’s time we wake up to the division Satan is subtly infusing in the Body of Christ. Jesus said there would be one way that a person would be distinguished as a Christ follower and that was “If you have love for one another” (John 13:35). Right words don’t make right Christians. We can wear the Jesus t-shirt and speak the Christian lingo, but if we are showing partiality to certain persons to the exclusivity of others, our faith is worthless. As parents we need to take a good hard look at our behavior as well as the words we speak. We all know our children are more likely to do as we do rather than do what we say. So what type of example are we living before them? Are we living out our devotion to God by loving others despite our differences, or are we presenting our kiddos with the false notion that it’s okay to show partiality on the basis of superficial, external attributes? The “popular” label is never listed in Scripture because we’re all equal at the foot of the cross. However, there are a few labels in Colossians 3:12-14 the Apostle Paul told us to put on: Compassion, kindness, patience, forgiveness, humility, gentleness, and above all love. Our devotion to God is authenticated by our love for others. I don’t think Jesus is fond of his followers mistreating those whom he died to save. May God give us eyes to see as he sees so that we treat others as the loved and paid for souls that they truly are. Let’s commit, as Christ following parents, to authenticate our faith by putting aside fabricated labels and worldly cliques, and to become the loving change our children and our world desperately need.