Just to prepare you: This summer, I will be that mom, the one looking at her phone as her kids run through the neighborhood, swim in the pool, climb at the park, hit balls, shuffle off to Buffalo, lie in the sand, and rumble along on train rides.
I will check e-mail, respond to texts, read Facebook, and take calls during all of these activities—and more!—while motioning to my children to hush or give me just a minute. I will do this without guilt or shame, no matter how hard some may try to make me feel bad for it.
Some like blogger Tonya Ferguson, for instance, whose “Dear Mom on the iPhone” column offered judgmental, unmerciful words toward us phone-checking moms. And like Kid President, who opened his Ten Things Every Mom Needs to Know video with his precocious command to “put down the phone.” (Kid recovered a bit with his silly-sass mouth humor… but still.) The message is clear: Moms are not to look at phones when in the presence of our children. Our eyes should be for our kids only.
Here’s the thing, though. I do like to look at my children. I like to watch them whirl and twirl at parks, like Ferguson says we need to be doing. I like to watch them make funny videos, like Kid President would want. If I didn’t have my phone or I didn’t check it, I’d be actually watching my kids a lot less, since I’d probably have to be in an office.
My phone allows me to be engaged with my kids more than it distracts me from them. When my husband gave me a Blackberry for my birthday seven or so years ago, he gave me more than a phone. He gave me freedom. Until then, as a work-from-home mom of three tiny kids, I felt tethered to the house—or at least, my computer.
Every rushed pre-Blackberry playdate had me stressed, my thoughts turning to the important e-mails I might be missing at home. Having ready access to e-mails (and then Facebook and Twitter and texting and Google and every other form of communication I depend on) changed all that. Our activities increased, and my stress-level decreased. No more rushing in to check inboxes; no more spaced-out wondering if that manuscript I’d sent had been sent back.
Certainly smart phone abuse happens. I confess to my own Pavlovian-dog response every time my phone shakes and bings, alerting me to text or message or e-mail. (I’m quite good at ignoring rings, for what it’s worth.) I confess that when the innings at t-ball drag on and on, the siren call of reading news or checking Facebook is too much to resist.
But not all of us glancing down at our phone screens are trying to escape, relax, or ignore our kids. One friend, also a write-from-home mom, calls her smart phone a “life tool.” It’s the tool we use to live out our various callings. Mine allows me to raise my kids, manage various freelance and writing projects, and stay on top of my part-time position on the worship staff at church. Asking me to “put it down” or trying to guilt me into all that I’m missing, gets motherhood all wrong. Kid President is a kid, so naturally he thinks kids should be front and center 24/7. But adults for most of human history have understood that children do not require, are not entitled to, and are not benefitted by this sort of focus.
Telling a working mom to put down her phone would be like telling a prairie mom to put down her plow, to lose the milking stool. Or telling a homemaker champ mom to put down her vacuum, her dishrag, her spatula. To a mom like me, suggesting I put down my phone—a tool of my trade—implies that my most essential role as a mom is seeing every last thing my kids do.
The God-made role of mother is not about remaining fixated on our children; it’s not about never turning our eyes away from them. A good mom pays attention and watches, yes. But a great mom does these things while also providing, in its various forms, and modeling what it is to live a life following a calling, making appropriate use God’s gifts.
When guilt and shame do start to sneak up as I reach for my phone, I take great comfort in none other than the Blessed Mother. God choose Mary—a mom rock-solid in her calling but so distracted by conversation or the scenery or who knows what that it took her three days to realize her 12-year-old got left behind—as the mother of his Son (Luke 2:43-45). Throughout all time, God decided she was the best mother ever.
While I don’t recommend being this distracted, since God didn’t smite Mary for turning her eyes off Jesus and since Boy Jesus run to her crying and screaming as my kids (rightfully) would, it seems God’s okay with two minutes responding to a text, even as my kids ask me to watch yet another cartwheel. And if God’s okay with it, we should be, too.
Caryn Rivadeneira is the author of Known and Loved: 52 Devotions from the Psalms (Revell) and a Her.meneutics regular contributor. She and her family live just outside of Chicago.
As Walden Media and Fox gear up for the holiday release of the third Narnia film, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, they’re announcing a new initiative with an ambitious goal – to partner with Samaritan’s Purse to deliver more than 8 million boxes of toys and supplies to impoverished children all over the world.
Women have always longed for the men of romance novels. In some ways, that's what romance novels are for. The latest romance subgenre, though, has its own effects. Not only may readers of Amish fiction compare their husbands' bodies to a hunky hero like Levi Yoder, but also their own households to the bucolic, romanticized Amish life.
As I started reading these so-called bonnet-rippers, I found myself glancing across the bed at my husband, thinking:
"How come you don't lead daily Bible time with the kids?" (Never mind he does it once in a while.)
"Do you even cherish me like Christ does the church?" (Never mind he just wrote me a beautiful Mother's Day card.)
"When was the last time you took me to a barn raising and got me cold lemonade even though the Bishop said I was too young?" (Okay, that one's totally an Amish thing.)
Chapters deep into unrealistic expectations, I started feeling like my husband wasn't enough of a spiritual leader and that I wasn't enough of a hospitable, home-cooking wife. Don't get me wrong. I tried the simple life. I homeschooled our kids. I even made my own bread… once. I long for the less-hurried life, and it seems I am not alone.
Today's readers want to escape the pace of hypermodern life, and living vicariously through the lives of the Amish offers one way to do so, according to Valerie Weaver, author of Thrill of the Chaste: The Allure of Amish Romance Novels.
These books, depicted with sunny rural settings and demure women, have replaced the champagne glasses and hot pink covers of chick lit titles. According to the Los Angeles Review of Books, a new Amish romance novel hit the market every four days in 2012. The genre's top three authors have sold more than 24 million books, the Wall Street Journal reports. Without a doubt, farm lit is the new bestseller, beach read, and chart-topper for American women.
Pair its popularity with our obsession with all things homemade. Emily Matchar at The Atlantic states that, "Across different social and cultural groups, there's been a collective return to domesticity—the rise in educated stay-at-home moms, the obsession with DIY crafts, the obsession for cooking and growing our own food, the decline in career ambition and the growing importance of family among the young."
In this context, readers often desire the idealized setting of Amish lifestyle and romance, but despite their efforts, find themselves disappointed and discontent when their realities get compared to the details and plots of fiction. Even the simple act of reading a novel, as literary theorist Janice Radway wrote in her 1984 study Reading the Romance, is a strategy by which "a woman can be entirely on her own, preoccupied with her personal needs, desires, pleasure."
Many Amish themselves say these stories (obviously) aren't true to life. Even though most of the authors are not Amish, the proper roles of a woman in a marriage are described in not-so-subtle descriptions of a good wife submitting to her husband. As Christian women, we are called to a higher purpose in living than being preoccupied with personal needs or trying to live up to a fictional expectation of marital submission. Even if we don't read these books for marital lessons or examples, we need to recognize where they may divert from God's Word. We need to avoid letting the character's desires become our desires, even if accidentally.
That doesn't necessarily mean we must stop reading this genre altogether. No need to throw the baby out with the bathwater (from the Amish basin, of course). Christian women, though, can be intentional about knowing what is fictional and what is real. Your husband might not drive the buggy with muscles bulging from suspenders, but he, like mine, is the one who cleans up the puke when one of your kids throws up. And maybe your home is not filled with hand-sewn quilts (or Pinterest-inspired DIY home décor), but you are striving to make your home a haven by trying to connect with your husband or your children.
1 Timothy 6:6 states, "Godliness with contentment is great gain." As Christians, if we are able to be content with what we have, reading Christian Amish fiction can be a good thing. These entertaining stories often have an overall theme of following God's call on our lives. They can be a non-confrontational way the sword of the Spirit can cut through the heart of a non-Christian reader. For Christians, it can be a reminder of a more simple life to strive for, but not obsess over.
A popular Amish publication called Family Life sums up this contentment: "Although romance may have its part in a healthy marriage, let's not mistake tinsel for gold…Gifts of flowers and candy may be a token of love and appreciation, but a helping hand with the work or with the children are deeds that speak of true love and devotion."
A helping hand with the work or with the children? Now, I could read about that all summer long.
Angie Ryg is the author of Clutter Free Simplicity – Seven Steps to Clear the Clutter from Your Heart and Home. She is married to her best friend, mother to one princess and three princes, and can be found blogging at findingjoyineverydaymoments.blogspot.com. You can also connect with her on Facebook or Twitter.
Operation Narnia is a partnership with the Samaritan’s Purse program, Operation Christmas Child, to bring the joy of Christmas to needy kids in more than 130 countries. The shoe boxes are typically filled with things like toys, stuffed animals, school supplies, hard candy, and hygiene items. These boxes are then delivered to local collection centers around the country and shipped in time for the Christmas season. It’s a great program – and an easy way to make a kid’s day.
Learn more about Operation Narnia from “Lucy” here:
