What happens to kids with helicopter parents?

There are many studies being done about parenting and millenials, the group born somewhere close to 1980 to somewhere close to 2000. There are a lot of studies that define millenials and they usually include something about “helicopter” parenting. I want to challenge us to look at this kind of parenting and its long term affect on young adults.

Besides my desire to influence parents (especially those of young children), I believe these principles affect our discipleship efforts of young believers in the U.S. as well as our efforts at growing the young church in the developing world. The topic crosses many spheres as it is a study from sociology and the psychological development of people. There is much at stake if we get this wrong. It’s time to think seriously about this subject of over-parenting. I hope these articles lead you to some discussion in your own sphere. I’d love to hear your comments. 

Here is an excerpt with an overview of millenials that was posted in January 2015.

A snapshot of Millenials, according to their press:

Millenials grew up in an electronics-filled and increasingly online and socially-networked world. They are the generation that has received the most marketing attention. As the most ethnically diverse generation, Millenials tend to be tolerant of difference. Having been raised under the mantra “follow your dreams” and being told they were special, they tend to be confident. While largely a positive trait, the Millennial generation’s confidence has been argued to spill over into the realms of entitlement and narcissism.  They are often seen as slightly more optimistic about the future of America than other generations — despite the fact that they are the first generation since the Silent Generation that is expected to be less economically successful than their parents.

One reported result of Millennial optimism is entering into adulthood with unrealistic expectations, which sometimes leads to disillusionment. Many early Millennials went through post-secondary education only to find themselves employed in unrelated fields or underemployed and job hopping more frequently than previous generations. Their expectations may have resulted from the very encouraging, involved and almost ever-present group of parents that became known as helicopter parents.

And another article siting many studies on the subject:

Kids of Helicopter Parents Are Sputtering Out

Recent studies suggests that kids with overinvolved parents and rigidly structured childhoods suffer psychological blowback in college.

Stressed out student in hallway of school building.

– What helicopter parenting hath wrought. Photo by Wavebreakmedia Ltd/Thinkstock

Excerpted from How to Raise an Adult: Break Free of the Overparenting Trap and Prepare Your Kid for Success by Julie Lythcott-Haims, out now from Henry Holt and Co.

Academically overbearing parents are doing great harm. So says Bill Deresiewicz in his groundbreaking 2014 manifesto Excellent Sheep: The Miseducation of the American Elite and the Way to a Meaningful Life. “[For students] haunted their whole lives by a fear of failure—often, in the first instance, by their parents’ fear of failure,” writes Deresiewicz, “the cost of falling short, even temporarily, becomes not merely practical, but existential.”

Those whom Deresiewicz calls “excellent sheep” I call the “existentially impotent.” From 2006 to 2008, I served on Stanford University’s mental health task force, which examined the problem of student depression and proposed ways to teach faculty, staff, and students to better understand, notice, and respond to mental health issues. As dean, I saw a lack of intellectual and emotional freedom—this existential impotence—behind closed doors. The “excellent sheep” were in my office. Often brilliant, always accomplished, these students would sit on my couch holding their fragile, brittle parts together, resigned to the fact that these outwardly successful situations were their miserable lives.

In my years as dean, I heard plenty of stories from college students who believed theyhad to study science (or medicine, or engineering), just as they’d had to play piano,and do community service for Africa, and, and, and. I talked with kids completely uninterested in the items on their own résumés. Some shrugged off any right to be bothered by their own lack of interest in what they were working on, saying, “My parents know what’s best for me.”

In 2013 the news was filled with worrisome statistics about the mental health crisis on college campuses, particularly the number of students medicated for depression. Charlie Gofen, the retired chairman of the board at the Latin School of Chicago, a private school serving about 1,100 students, emailed the statistics off to a colleague at another school and asked, “Do you think parents at your school would rather their kid be depressed at Yale or happy at University of Arizona?” The colleague quickly replied, “My guess is 75 percent of the parents would rather see their kids depressed at Yale. They figure that the kid can straighten the emotional stuff out in his/her 20’s, but no one can go back and get the Yale undergrad degree.”

Here are the statistics to which Charlie Gofen was likely alluding: In a 2013 survey of college counseling center directors, 95 percent said the number of students with significant psychological problems is a growing concern on their campus, 70 percent said that the number of students on their campus with severe psychological problems has increased in the past year, and they reported that 24.5 percent of their student clients were taking psychotropic drugs.

In 2013 the American College Health Association surveyed close to 100,000 college students from 153 different campuses about their health. When asked about their experiences, at some point over the past 12 months:

  • 84.3 percent felt overwhelmed by all they had to do
  • 60.5 percent felt very sad
  • 57.0 percent felt very lonely
  • 51.3 percent felt overwhelming anxiety
  • 8.0 percent seriously considered suicide

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As parents, our intentions are sound—more than sound: We love our kids fiercely and want only the very best for them. Yet, having succumbed to a combination of safety fears, a college admissions arms race, and perhaps our own needy ego, our sense of what is “best” for our kids is completely out of whack. We don’t want our kids to bonk their heads or have hurt feelings, but we’re willing to take real chances with their mental health?

You’re right to be thinking Yes, but do we know whether overparenting causes this rise in mental health problems? The answer is that we don’t have studies proving causation, but a number of recent studies show correlation.

In 2010, psychology professor Neil Montgomery of Keene State College in New Hampshire surveyed 300 college freshmen nationwide and found that students with helicopter parents were less open to new ideas and actions and more vulnerable, anxious, and self-conscious. “[S]tudents who were given responsibility and not constantly monitored by their parents—so-called ‘free rangers’—the effects were reversed,” Montgomery’s study found. A 2011 study by Terri LeMoyne and Tom Buchanan at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga looking at more than 300 students found that students with “hovering” or “helicopter” parents are more likely to be medicated for anxiety and/or depression.

A 2012 study of 438 college students reported in the Journal of Adolescence found “initial evidence for this form of intrusive parenting being linked to problematic development in emerging adulthood … by limiting opportunities for emerging adults to practice and develop important skills needed for becoming self-reliant adults.” A 2013 study of 297 college students reported in the Journal of Child and Family Studies found that college students with helicopter parents reported significantly higher levels of depression and less satisfaction in life and attributed this diminishment in well-being to a violation of the students’ “basic psychological needs for autonomy and competence.” And a 2014 study from researchers at the University of Colorado–Boulder is the first to correlate a highly structured childhood with less executive function capabilities. Executive function is our ability to determine which goal-directed actions to carry out and when and is a skill set lacking in many kids with attention deficit disorder or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.

The data emerging about the mental health of our kids only confirms the harm done by asking so little of them when it comes to life skills yet so much of them when it comes to adhering to the academic plans we’ve made for them.

When parents have tended to do the stuff of life for kids—the waking up, the transporting, the reminding about deadlines and obligations, the bill-paying, the question-asking, the decision-making, the responsibility-taking, the talking to strangers, and the confronting of authorities, kids may be in for quite a shock when parents turn them loose in the world of college or work. They will experience setbacks, which will feel to them like failure. Lurking beneath the problem of whatever thing needs to be handled is the student’s inability to differentiate the self from the parent.

When seemingly perfectly healthy but overparented kids get to college and have trouble coping with the various new situations they might encounter—a roommate who has a different sense of “clean,” a professor who wants a revision to the paper but won’t say specifically what is “wrong,” a friend who isn’t being so friendly anymore, a choice between doing a summer seminar or service project but not both—they can have real difficulty knowing how to handle the disagreement, the uncertainty, the hurt feelings, or the decision-making process. This inability to cope—to sit with some discomfort, think about options, talk it through with someone, make a decision—can become a problem unto itself.

Madeline Levine, psychologist and author of The Price of Privilege, says that there are three ways we might be overparenting and unwittingly causing psychological harm:

  1. When we do for our kids what they can already do for themselves;
  2. When we do for our kids what they can almost do for themselves; and
  3. When our parenting behavior is motivated by our own egos.

CINDY’S Editorial comment: There are some real parallels to this parenting style in missionary work. Paternalism or over-involvement in work with locals or nationals has some of the same affects. It has been a tendency from the early western missionary history to hover to closely to nationals as they learn to lead. Let’s think about this. In missionary work, missionaries should monitor their work like parents monitor their parenting with this same list …these three points are worthy of analysing what they are doing. In 1 and 2, exchange the word “kids” for “nationals” and in 3 exchange “parenting” for “ministry”.  The following applies to both parenting and missionary work. 

Levine said that when we parent this way we deprive our kids of the opportunity to be creative, to problem solve, to develop coping skills, to build resilience, to figure out what makes them happy, to figure out who they are. In short, it deprives them of the chance to be, well, human. Although we overinvolve ourselves to protect our kids and it may in fact lead to short-term gains, our behavior actually delivers the rather soul-crushing news: Kid, you can’t actually do any of this without me.

As Able told me:

When children aren’t given the space to struggle through things on their own, they don’t learn to problem solve very well. They don’t learn to be confident in their own abilities, and it can affect their self-esteem. The other problem with never having to struggle is that you never experience failure and can develop an overwhelming fear of failure and of disappointing others. Both the low self-confidence and the fear of failure can lead to depression or anxiety.

Neither Karen Able nor I is suggesting that grown kids should never call their parents. The devil is in the details of the conversation. If they call with a problem or a decision to be made, do we tell them what to do? Or do we listen thoughtfully, ask some questions based on our own sense of the situation, then say, “OK. So how do you think you’re going to handle that?”

Knowing what could unfold for our kids when they’re out of our sight can make us parents feel like we’re in straitjackets. What else are we supposed to do? If we’re not there for our kids when they are away from home and bewildered, confused, frightened, or hurting, then who will be?

Here’s the point—and this is so much more important than I realized until rather recently when the data started coming in: The research shows that figuring out for themselves is a critical element to people’s mental health. Your kids have to be there for themselves. That’s a harder truth to swallow when your kid is in the midst of a problem or worse, a crisis, but taking the long view, it’s the best medicine for them.

Excerpted from How to Raise an Adult by Julie Lythcott-Haims, published by Henry Holt and Company, LLC. Copyright © 2015 by Julie Lythcott- Haims. All rights reserved.

Before You Pack Your Bag, Prepare Your Heart

During my short term mission “Camelot” years at Willow Creek during the early 90’s, I had the task of writing curriculum for the then 5-10 short term mission (STM) teams that Willow sent to Mexico. It was daunting as I couldn’t seem to find too much help in finding good material to prepare our teams. So like many, we wrote our own.

Yes, I had been on many trips myself and had just returned from Kenya with my family for a whole year of serving as short termers. During that year we hosted many short termers in our home and realized that some struggled to adapt and some did well. Most admitted that they felt unprepared for their experience.

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Our family visiting a Kenyan family in their home

For about 8 years my church team was preparing about 25 serving teams to serve each year. We used many versions of curriculum that we edited and reworked. In 1999 I decided to publish what I had worked on. Today that Bible study guidebook, Before You Pack Your Bag, Prepare Your Heart, published by STEM Press, has sold about 100,000 copies. It is still the biggest seller in mission history of a STM preparation guide.

Prepare Your Heart

I am so grateful that youth pastors and church missions programs don’t have to start from scratch as we did back then. But most of all I am grateful that teams are going out with a solid orientation and a challenge from God’s Word. They have begun their journey into mission work with preparation in areas that challenge them to realize that the “how” of doing their work is more important than the “what”; that we need to be Christians first, not Americans first as we approach serving in a new culture (or anywhere, for that matter). We need to understand that bringing our technology or our stuff is NOT the most important gift to bring to the people we serve. That to go with an attitude of openness and acceptance and learning about our new friends overseas will allow us to be the best servants in Jesus’ name.

Don’t forget to pray for all those going out this summer to serve. Their service does more than you might think. Most of us don’t realize that most often the hosting group so appreciates being validated and valued when Americans come to visit them, to serve their needs, and just love them. There is a mutual experience of both parties understanding they are a part of the body of Christ. Be sure you take time to ask anyone you know who has gone, what they have learned.

Elisabeth Elliot, a woman to encounter

How do I begin to share the impact that Elisabeth Elliot had on my life. Her influence will live on in me though she is now in heaven, as she entered the gates yesterday morning. She inspired my youth, my middle years and to this day. 

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It seems that I can’t remember ever not being influenced by her story, her writing, her speaking…her life.  Since I can remember I have known her story…of her husband and fellow Wheaton College buddies all pursuing their call to missions by joining a team to reach an unreached people group called the Auca Indians in the jungles of Ecuador, who though seeming to accept their friendship ended up killing all of these 5 young men. The story emerged into my childhood reality in the mid-50’s when it happened. 

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When I was in high school in the late 60’s, I heard talks given by many of the 5 martyrs’ friends at Youth for Christ camps and rallies…that story of their sacrifice and their desire to reach out to stone-aged people to bring them the love of God, did more to influence my desire to give my life to missionary work, than anything else. God used their commitment to challenge me and helped me give myself to be available to God, whatever the cost. There is no age too young that God can’t speak powerfully to our hearts.

I read Through Gates of Splendor one high school summer and it inspired me to follow Jesus and be obey His call. It continues to be my favorite missionary story and it was my introduction to Elisabeth, not only as one of the wives of the 5 martyrs, but a significant writer and thinker. Please enjoy the CT article about Elisabeth Elliot.

 I could hardly believe that I would be my home church’s first short term missionary and spend a summer in Quito, Ecuador. We flew to a neighboring group of Ecuadorian Indians landing on a dirt air strip and met those who were kin to the Auca Indians. I was able to visit Shell Mera and see the room where the martyred women and children, including Elisabeth Elliot and daughter Valerie, sat when they received the news that their husbands were taken from them and their children. Two of the Saint children would live in my hometown during high school and become friends. God allowed me to be drawn into this story physically.

 imagesWhen I started my college education, I entered Moody Bible Institute as a Foreign Missions major, most surely because of the influence of this story and how God used it in my life. I found a copy of Elliot’s book, My Savage, My Kinsman which was my next eye-opening story of living with the Aucas after she was widowed by them, stretching my  mind that the savage killers of her husband would eventually become her kin, her family in Christ. Amazing. I was at Moody Church when Elisabeth brought one of her Auca “sisters” to the U.S. and shared the story of their friendship and new faith in Jesus Christ. God pressed Elisabeth’s story and her commitment onto my heart.

The next mind-bender was another of Elliot’s strong books called No Graven Image, a gutsy, honest novel with a challenge to not allow ourselves to make missionaries into idols, as a “graven image”.  As missionaries are human beings with flaws and weaknesses,  it should be acknowledged that like all of us, people need grace. The honesty with which Elisabeth expressed her thoughts and convictions sealed my allegiance to this woman and what she stood for. I relished everything she wrote. Click here to read some famous quotes. She challenged the conventions of our Christian culture in many new ways. 

As John Piper wrote yesterday, ‘she called young people to come and die. Sacrifice and suffering were woven through her writing and speaking like a scarlet thread. She was not a romantic about missions. She disliked very much the sentimentalizing of discipleship.

She said, “We all know that missionaries don’t go, they “go forth,” they don’t walk, they “tread the burning sands,” they don’t die, they “lay down their lives.” But the work gets done even if it is sentimentalized! (The Gatekeeper)

In 1976 my new husband and I would hear her speak at InterVarsity’s Urbana Missionary Conference. She was the first woman to speak at Urbana in 1973 and again in our year. That crowd of 25,000 college students loved her. Her inspiration and influence is impossible to comprehend. We were challenged in new ways to give ourselves to God and not consider taking our lives back, as they were far safer with Him. I saved the cassette tape of that talk and listened to it many times. It is still in my collections. Take a look in a google images search for Elisabeth Elliot quotes. You will be ministered to by her.

I wish I could put my finger on some old journals from those days, But as her home-going was yesterday, I want to post my memories now. I may revisit her influence on my life again, but I will share that my youngest daughter has this icon’s name as her middle name, spelled as her parents named her, “Elisabeth”. I wanted her influence to be remembered in my family.

Elisabeth’s mark on many young womens’ lives could be summarized by her beginnings, that a young graduate of Wheaton College committed her life, her talents and marvelous intellect to go and serve an unreached people group in Ecuador as a single women. The courage and commitment raced into the hearts of those of us who heard her story. A few years later she married one of the most incredible, singularly focused young men, Jim Elliot, her equal in every way. Through Gates of Splendor and Shadow of the Almighty were her accounts of their short life together. Her later book about her husband, The Journals of Jim Elliot, inspires all who read it, and especially affected my husband, Jim in his early years as a believer.

The most amazing thing happened as she aged. As she challenged women in her later years, she suggested that we live lives of godly femininity instead of lives influenced by a version of feminism,…some of us smiled. She had already set such a high bar for women to step up to live abandoned for God and sacrifice for His cause, giving of ourselves for the gospel in the most independent ways. It seemed to me that her message didn’t need an addendum. Her legacy was already established. She had given us freedom and wings that the world could not define by a label. Her example pushed us to be women who identify our God-given giftedness and in obedience to Him, develop our gifts so that He could use us for His purposes and His glory. Hopefully we have passed that along to our daughters and the next generation of women desiring to follow Jesus. 

We watched her life. She lived many lives as a woman in the spotlight…a wife of three incredible men, (losing two of them to premature death). She was a mother of one, eventually a grandmother to eight. She was linguist, jungle missionary, prolific writer, powerful speaker, and eventually radio personality. The diversity and impact of her life seems overwhelming to me. Her impact was felt in her generation, my generation, and many younger generations to come. May her death allow us to rewind the messages now available online and read the books on our shelves…for a the gift of a fresh challenge from Elisabeth. 

 

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What is a global outreach?

The facts are staggering. According to Frontier Harvest Ministries, in the unevangelized world, there are 20,500 full-time Christian workers and 10,200 foreign missionaries. In the evangelized non-Christian world, there are 1.31 million full-time Christian workers.

The whole enterprise is something that started with 12 men who were mentored by Jesus, the son of God himself in the small community of Galilee and its surrounds. The fact that I was given a role to play in this great world of fulfilling the great commission in an international arena sometimes astounds me. Everyone of us can play a role…by praying, giving or going. Most of all it starts with a heart of compassion and a desire to take the message of redemption to a world crying out for it. And it may begin with learning what God is doing around the world and deciding how to join Him. It’s an overwhelming task to share the good news with the world…but many churches make it a high priority in the life of their church seeing it as obedience to God’s plan to use each one of us.

I celebrate how God allowed me to play a part in one church in the Chicago’s suburbs that influences and supports about 100 of these missionaries. During the 10 years that I directed these efforts at Wheaton Bible Church we put on many events and conferences to raise awareness and enthusiasm to reach the world and it was a great ride.

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On this Mother’s Day let’s remember motherless children

It’s way overdue. I promised to introduce you to some high school kids from Hope for Life Kenya. On this Mother’s Day weekend, I have been thinking about these kids. So many of them have lost their mothers to HIV and AIDS. Many fathers have either died or have foresaken the difficulties of family life plagued with illness and have left. They may or may not come back, but often don’t return until children are past school age, when the kids can take care of him. It’s a common story.

Children never stop needing a mother. God has blessed these 125 children at Hope for Life with a surrogate mother, as only God could do. The director of Hope for Life (HFL) Josephine, has become “mother” to over a hundred kids. Along with her staff helpers, she chose these kids from the neighborhood because of their dire need. She keeps track of them, visits their homes (where many have grandmothers taking care of them), makes sure they have uniforms for school. She oversees their daily food needs and their health needs. She pours her life into them. She teaches them the Bible and how to live a Christ-centered life…all with a great sense of humor and calm. She loves them deeply….all in Jesus’ name. Most come to faith in Christ personally at a very young age. Her mothering and nurturing skills are amazing. hopeforlife.juliandkellyphotos-12 The kids flock to her for a hug or ask her for counsel about life issues. They need her like every kid needs a mom. Josephine is their mom, their hero. She is my hero. I want to help her help these kids. They need our help to stay in school…no they don’t have behavior problems, but they have financial problems….you see they have to pay some hefty shillings (dollars) to go to high school…they have to pass exams and apply to high schools like we do for college.  Because of Josephine and her value of education, 31 kids studied hard and have qualified for high school.

There is a simple way to help by clicking this link to Faith and Learning International.

Anyway… let me introduce you to some of the high schoolers. Most of these interviews were taken in January by the GO Team from Wheaton Bible Church and are spoken in their own words:

Kezia has been a part of Hope for Life for nearly 10 years. Since she was a little girl she feels that getting a good hot meal every day has been very impactful on her life. As she has gotten older the other huge blessing is getting help with her school fees. Now that she is in boarding school, she comes to Hope For Life on weekends and plays piano and sings at church. She hopes to be a musician when she grows up.

Kezia

Kezia

At home Kezia helps with cooking, especially loves to make chapatis and ugali. She cares for the cows and really loves animals. At HFL she works in the garden on occasion and mostly helps in the kitchen. When asked if the girls always cook and the boys work in the garden, she laughed and said the girls try to mix it up, but the boys aren’t very good in the kitchen. She has learned to knit and dress hair at HFL and now shaves the boys heads during her vocational skill training on Saturdays.

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Michael

Michael is 17 years old and has been a part of the Hope for Life family since he was 8. His 16 year old sister Kezia is also at HFL. He is in his second year of high school and likes school a lot, especially Chemistry and Math.  Someday he would like to be a cashier, as he is very good with numbers. On the weekends, Michael takes computer classes and electrical skills classes at HFL. He also helps with the children, but his greatest love and talent is in music playing at church either on the keyboard or drums. He loves to sing and is in the gospel dance troop at church as well. Michael and Kezia’s mother is HIV+ and there are 4 in the family. His mother ran away when the kids were young but has returned and reconciled with the grandmother. Once Michael was sent away from school for lack of school fees and he ran away and became a shepherd, but life was so difficult that he returned. He is back in school and growing into a very responsible and teachable young man.

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Daniel “Mbugua”

Mbugua’s  mother died when he was 4 years old and his younger sister Virginia was 2. At that time he was very sick, suffering from a severe skin problem.  After the mother died, the four children joined Hope For Life. Josephine helped with his medication to heal his skin problem. But after 6 years the father of the first 2 siblings showed up and said he wanted to take his children. He was HIV+. His older sister ran away.

Mbugua was terribly affected when his older siblings were gone and he and Virginia were left behind to live with the grandparents. Although he struggles in school because of the stressful environment at home, he graduated from 8th grade and has made it to high school. He plays the keyboard in church, sings and composes music. He is also a good dancer in church worship dance group.  Mbugua wants to be an airplane mechanic.

Josephine and Virginia

Josephine and Virginia

His sister Virginia has “adopted” Josephine as her mother and frequently leaves her grandparents to stay with Josephine. I have known Virginia since she was 4 and she has grown into a wonderful teenager with a bright and godly spirit.

God has rescued these motherless children by sending Josephine to their neighborhood. Now they are adopted into His family forever. To be adopted as sons of Jesus Christ is a concept that will take us until eternity to fully comprehend. The truth is that when I am around the children from Hope for Life Kenya, I get a glimpse of spiritual adoption from many angles. God cares about these children like the father that He is.

Galatians 4:5-7 ESV 

To redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.

Matthew 18:5 ESV 

“Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me,…”

   

What makes you feel loved?

From the international retreat ministry for missionary women that recently was held in Peru. One of the purposes is to love these women extravagantly for 4 days.

This retreat blog entry is a regular feature 4 times each year found at thriveministry.org

Written by Thrive staffer and friend, Bethany Hoffman

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What makes you feel loved?

That’s the question Thrive anticipates for global women. We try to make them feel loved often—and in all the ways we can—in the 72 hours they spend with us.

In his book The 5 Love Languages, Gary Chapman identifies five ways we express and receive love that, when spoken, fuel us for everyday living:

  • Words of Affirmation
  • Quality Time
  • Gifts
  • Acts of Service
  • Physical Touch

How do we make sure all 68 retreat attendees go home feeling loved?
We strive to be multi-lingual.

The women receive verbal words of affirmation, and sometimes with handwritten notes. It happens in small groups and during afternoon self care appointments where attendees receive haircuts, pedicures, massages, prayer, or counsel.

They experience quality time in individual and small group interactions. Each self-care appointment provides an opportunity to slow down, be heard, and pray with someone. Perhaps most importantly, the women have the space and margin to spend quality time with their Heavenly Father.

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They receive gifts. Each morning, there are fun surprises awaiting them. Tuesday evening they got a Taste of Home—items they miss from home but can’t readily find in their countries of service. And generous donors make the retreat itself a gift for attendees.

The women benefit from acts of service when they discover which colors suit them best or have a makeup artist play up their best features; when their hair is cut and their backs are massaged; when a pedicure looks more like a foot washing and becomes a sacred experience.

Attendees experience healthy physical touch through massage, haircuts, and pedicures, but also through the laying on of hands during prayer, and when hugging a friend goodbye who was a stranger days earlier.

We are commanded to love one another. And so we do, in all the ways we can.

Do you love the global women you know in all the ways you can?

©2015 Thrive

Our night time visitations…in 1990

It did not take long for our initiation into “life overseas” to begin, starting with the realization, about the fourth night we were there, that we were not the only ones residing in our house. We definitely had guests. It was insomnia that led me to this discovery.

Usually I am not subject to any difficulty sleeping; in fact, most of the time I am one of those people who fall asleep within minutes of my head hitting the pillow. Cindy, on the other hand, tends to just get going around ten o’clock at night, finding bedtime the perfect setting for discussing the deep and arcane mysteries of our relationship. At first, I was convinced there had to be a strategy in this somewhere,  that this was a deliberate, subversive, Chinese-water-torture-type technique all women are taught at an early age. (Clearly, when they separated us during those junior-high puberty talks, this is what the girls were laughing about in the other room.) Although there are times when I still have my suspicions, I eventually came to attribute this to nothing more sinister than differing biorhythms.

In Kenya, though, something odd happened—Cindy and I traded places. She seemed to be able to fall asleep immediately, while I often laid in bed for hours, hard at work trying to determine the exact nature of every strange sound I heard, and then resolve myself to whatever fate that sound might be heralding. Whether it be robbers or revolution, at least I was not going to be taken unaware; for every possibility, I would lie there and devise a plan. There are two essential elements to a father’s job description—provide and protect, and I guess being in such a strange place pushed the protect thing into serious overdrive. I was deeply engaged in this useless activity when I first heard it. Something in the ceiling directly over my head. Something scurrying and furtive. Something undeniably rodent in quality. Have you ever noticed how the more you pay attention to a sound in the night, the louder it becomes? My high-alert listening soon had me convinced that whatever was tromping back and forth over my head had to be about the size of a small dog. This led to visions of some “rodent of unusual size” suddenly dropping through the ceiling tiles overhead and landing on my face. As I listened even more carefully, I was soon sure there had to be a whole team of them up there, running back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, engaged in some demented version of a rat soccer game. 6Troy7jjc Just when I was thinking how glad I was Cindy was asleep and missing all this, she rolled over, pounded her pillow and muttered in an exasperated tone, “What are they wearing? Wingtips?” There was one brief moment of silence, then we both burst out laughing, one of those great, huge laughs energized by the sudden realization of a shared anxiety. We laid there, and between eruptions of laughter, hatched Plan-A calling for the use of our secret weapon.

Being the neurotic suburbanite I am, I of course anticipated vermin-oriented problems long before our departure. One afternoon back home, while Cindy was shopping, I was wasting time in Brookstone, the mall equivalent of childcare for bored husbands. Here, among the vibrating chairs and ultimate nasal-hair trimmers, I found something truly useful. It was one of those ultrasonic devices that emits sounds humans can’t hear, but rodents can….

…and even though I listened for them every night thereafter, anticipating a sneak attack, they never did come back. The mystery of where they went was only solved months later when we told our neighbors about our cleverness. They looked at each other with one of those “Ah ha” kind of looks and said that explained teh line of little furry refugees they had seen that first week, bags in hand, cotton jammed in their ears, fleeing from our home, straight for theirs.

The rest of the story is Judge family history…those mice were gone in a day…and the neighbors weren’t too happy about it…we’re still sorry, Bob and Bobbi…sort of. More stories to come on Thursdays.

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Judge, James (2001-09-10). Unfamiliar Territory (Kindle Locations 665-674). Thomas Nelson. Kindle Edition.

A crash course in missions

I was very involved in the beginning years of Global Connections at Willow Creek Community Church in South Barrington, IL. As an International Ministries board member we dreamed of the day when the, then 15,000 people, who called Willow Creek home would know and understand the global missions ministries that the church was engaged with at that time. I felt like often the enthusiasm of the leadership just wasn’t there to promote or celebrate God’s missionary heart from the front…to everyone.

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Today things are very different. Call it enlightenment or the church leaders growing into something new in understanding the nature of taking the gospel to the whole world…but whatever it is….it’s amazing. God has blessed the work they are doing in Latin America, Africa and Asia. This weekend is a prime example. It’s the church’s 10th anniversary of the 3 week long Celebration of Hope. It’s an amazing conference with all the international partners there to inspire you.

The teaching this weekend is by guests, Nicholas Kristoff and his wife (authors of Half the Sky) and Pastor Oscar Muriu from Nairobi Chapel.

If you go to Willow physically or via their live streamed services, you can go or listen at 5pm on Sat., April 25 or 9 or 11:15am on April 26 or the following weekend as it closes. You won’t regret hearing the speakers anytime you can listen online.

If you can make it there locally, allow enough time to explore the many exhibits and read the inspiring work that is happening in Jesus’ name around the world. It actually allows you to learn so much, I’m calling the exhibits a crash course in missions.

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Enjoy this incredible 3 weekend missions extravaganza.

Celebrating the story of adoption

This week the Stromberg and Judge family will celebrate the 3rd birthday of our granddaughter, Lydia DanQing Stromberg. This little sweetheart came into our family from China last January 26, 2014. On that day she arrived with her adoptive parents (our daughter, Katie, and son-in-law, Lars) at O’Hare Airport from China to her two brothers, Quinn and Albin and the rest of us.

The story is a beautiful one. Hundreds of people followed the adoption process through their blog. The story will make you smile and weep with joy, as we continue to do; we realize that God has given our family this beautiful gift of little Lydia to love and nurture. The sunshine she brings into our lives is warm and wonderful….every single day. And we are blessed to live nearby.

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The redemptive nature of earthly adoption stories helps us humbly accept our own adoption story into God’s family…an act of grace that still shocks me when I consider the depth of how much God loves us. As believers in Jesus Christ, every one of us experiences adoption, though often we don’t appreciate or understand it…our life and our destiny is changed in every way when we put our trust in Him. With the story of Easter ringing in our ears, the sacrifice of Christ that allows us to be adopted into this eternal family of the body of Christ is precious. By His sacrificial death on the cross on our behalf, we receive an eternal family, as we accept this gift.

Just minutes ago, I heard a radio interview with Brian Evie, who wrote and filmed a movie called The Drop Box. The website describes this story of redemption like this:

“The Drop Box tells the story of South Korean pastor Lee Jong-rak and his heroic efforts to embrace and protect the most vulnerable members of society. It is a heart-wrenching exploration of the physical, emotional and financial toll associated with providing refuge to orphans that would otherwise be abandoned on the streets. ButThe Drop Box movie is also a story of hope—a reminder that every human life is sacred and worthy of love.”

The Award-winning Director of “The Drop Box” talks about how his life was changed by making this movie. Watch the YouTube interview (under Documentaries). The movie will be out on DVD this summer. And a book is coming as well. What an incredible story.

In this world of ours there are more than 150 million orphans who suffer the loss of parents through violence, war and disease. Jesus said in John 14:18, “I will not leave you as orphans, I will come to you.” It is incumbent on us to understand and relate to this issue as we are the hands and feet of Jesus.  As Paul dictates in James 1:27, “Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress…”

As you are aware if you are reading this blog, I am involved with an orphan care center in Kenya called Hope for Life. Orphan sponsorship was introduced to me by World Vision and Compassion and Jim and I continue to sponsor children in Africa through both of these organizations as well as Hope for Life Kenya. Supporting these children through their school years is one of the most effective way to change a life, something each of us can do. Then there is the much larger commitment of adopting either domestically or internationally.

And to address another angle, I want to say something about the wonder of young families in adopting. We all know that the desire of anyone to adopt requires a serious commitment to rescuing a child. It is also a commitment to lengthy research and study.

My favorite blogger, Jen Hatmaker has adopted two children from Ethiopia. During their process, she blogged about the pitfalls of adoption when agencies are not trustworthy and children are actually trafficked away from their parents in order to be “sold” to well-meaning westerners, who don’t have any idea this is happening. Their good intentions are sometimes ripping children away from their parents. Jen writes about what she has learned about this reality. It can be a complicated subject.

It is a sobering thought and one that can be prevented by performing the due diligence in the process. If you know anyone beginning this process, a good place to begin would be to read the three-part blog/story of the Hatmaker’s learning curve.

Please consider how you can become more commited to understanding and supporting the most vulnerable among us…orphaned children.

Throwback Thursday: A Kijabe Medical Centre story

This story introduced my husband Jim to many African realities in the early 90’s…the story of this AIDS crisis came from an opportunistic disease that takes the lives of so many young vibrant Africans.

From a year’s worth of experiences like these, understanding took hold in our minds and hearts. Passion developed that year and for the next 23 years…we have been called to ministry in Africa, called to teach AIDS prevention messages, called to serve widows and orphans in the center of the world’s AIDS pandemic, Africa. 

Dr. Judge, you are needed in the emergency department. There is a patient there”. The message was delivered with the same intonation one might use to convey any routine piece of information, like the day will be seventy-two and sunny, or the trash needs to be emptied. Over the next several months, I learned there were certain code words I needed to listen for. A patient who “might need some sutures” usually had a laceration three inches deep and ten inches long. A patient who “was having trouble breathing” had already been dead for about an hour. The code word here was, “You are needed—” which I would come to understand meant, “We’ve got a big problem.” The worker just stood there after delivering the message, which I took as my clue to get moving.

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I finished up quickly with the older lady I was seeing and then followed the worker to the emergency ward located about fifty feet down the hall. There, lying on her side on a gurney, working very hard to breathe between spasms of coughing, was a woman in her twenties. There were beads of sweat pouring over her face despite the tomblike cold of the hospital. Each new spasm of coughing convulsed her whole body and ended in a violent eruption of saliva and mucous. As I approached, she gave me a quick, almost cautionary look, as if she was trying to warn me of something, without diverting her central attention from the essential task at hand, her next breath. She wore a tattered cardigan sweater over a worn dress, and her cheap plastic shoes were caked heavily with the red Kenyan mud. The worker in the emergency room told me that, while waiting to be seen, she had collapsed. Her eyes were wild, a look I recognized as air hunger, and as I placed my stethoscope on her hot back I knew why. Everywhere I listened, with each breath came the crackling sound one might hear if you were crinkling cellophane. There was no part of her chest that was not full of it. She had an overwhelming pneumonia. I continued my exam and quickly discovered there was something more. She was, at least by size, approximately seven months pregnant. I asked the dispenser for a Doppler device so I could hear the baby’s heartbeat. It was there, but much faster than it was supposed to be—the child was sharing in the mother’s distress. The young woman was very thin and wasted, as if she hadn’t eaten in a long time. Her arms were delicate and there was no tone to her flesh, almost like she was ninety years old. As I pondered all this, someone from the lab came in with results of some tests that were ordered earlier by the outpatient dispenser. Her white-blood-cell count was very high, reflecting the severity of her infection. She also was significantly anemic. The final test result stopped me in my tracks. It was her HIV test. It was positive.

Hope began to drain away. Any help we could provide would be, at best, temporary. We might be able to treat her current infection, maybe long enough to get her delivered. The statistical likelihood that the baby was also HIV-positive was about one in three. Frankly, in Africa, those aren’t bad odds. Odds we would have to take. I noticed, with the result of her HIV test, came a subtle change in the Kenyan workers’ attitudes toward her. Some element of reserve began to seep into their demeanor, some need to hold her at arm’s length. Maybe it was nothing more than self-protection. Compassion costs, and in a world where death is a daily reality, a world not laboring under the myth that everyone lives forever, compassion becomes a commodity that needs to be spent with care.

The young woman’s story began to unfold. This was my first lesson in how much Africans have to teach us about obtaining a medical history. I think it comes from their holistic perspective on life, a perspective often lacking in the more developed world. To ask questions of someone only about their symptoms would be considered rude and incomplete. A routine medical history would always include inquiries about where patients came from and their families, what kind of work they did, and how they were feeling in general. In other words, about their whole lives. This patient was a schoolteacher from a small hamlet several hours away. She had been engaged. Her fiancé was a truck driver, a high-risk occupation in Kenya even before the AIDS epidemic, between bandits and road conditions and the chronic disrepair of vehicles. After the AIDS epidemic hit, the life expectancy of truck drivers went down one more notch because of the common association of prostitution with truck stops. At that point in time, prostitutes in Nairobi had already been documented as averaging over 90 percent HIV-positive. Truck drivers were running almost 70 percent positive. Because of the different strain of HIV present in Africa and factors like poor nutrition, AIDS is a different, even more aggressive illness there. Her fiancé had died several months earlier, and soon after his death, she had become ill. She was unaccompanied by any family, which meant she had likely experienced rejection on all levels.

I grasped her hand as I started to work through the interpreter, and she almost recoiled. It was apparent it had been a long time since any other human had touched her. Her hand was cold and damp, but eventually she began to relax and grasp me back. I looked at her intently, working the language through my interpreter.

“Tell her she has an infection in her lungs that is very serious.” A string of foreign words echoed mine, in a tone less compassionate than I would have hoped for. “Tell her that we will need to start an IV to give her some strong medicine to treat the infection.” The nurse interpreted and the young teacher nodded. “Tell her we will need for her to stay in the hospital for a while.” A deep sense of relief flooded over her and a weak smile. “Tell her—tell her that her baby’s heartbeat is strong.” It was partial information, partially true. I couldn’t bring myself to place any more on her than she was already carrying.

She nodded once more, this time more strongly than before. I put on a pair of gloves and started her IV. As the blood flashed into the catheter, a small amount escaped as I connected her IV line. I noticed the nurse stiffen. I taped the IV down myself. Then I wrote some orders and returned to the outpatient clinic…

We were just finishing up the day in the clinic when a knock at the door came. You are needed in the woman’s ward…the patient with pneumonia has delivered her child.

It was a tiny little girl. She was cold. I felt for a pulse but there was none. A resuscitation would serve no purpose. I then turned to the mother and found her also to be without any heartbeat, any respirations. I leaned down and slowly turned off the valve on the oxygen tank. The nurse told me that just moments after delivering the dead child, the mother had simply closed her eyes and stopped breathing. It was as if as soon as she knew there was no further hope for her child, she had permission to do what she had been working at doing for the last several months—die….

“What was the point,” was the question pounding in my own head as I walked down the hall to the utility closet to wash up. What had we done for her? As I scrubbed my hands with the gritty Kenyan soap, I recalled a story I had read about Mother Teresa. She was being interviewed by a Canadian TV talk-show host, a shallow, provocative man. He asked her this question: “What real good are you doing? These people who come to you. These people you find in the gutters and the streets, you bring them to your hospital and they die.

“What’s the point?” Mother Teresa looked at him intently, burning through his shameful facade, and then after a heavy moment, in her thick Albanian accent, asked her own question: “Do not these people, who have lived their whole lives like dogs, deserve to die like angels?” She said nothing more. And neither did her interviewer.

I thought about the young woman in the room I had just left. I thought about her in her clean gown, on her soft bed, in her large bright room. Under her warm blankets. And Mother Teresa’s words echoed in the back of my mind. To die like angels. Maybe sometimes, this was all we would be able to do. Maybe sometimes, this would have to be enough. I made my way down the stairs, out the back door of the hospital. The sun was beginning to set behind the western mountains off in the distance, and the wind was blowing at my back. I followed the path home, through the graveyard.

Excerpts from Chapter 3…Judge, James (2001-09-10). Unfamiliar Territory (Kindle Locations 644-645), Thomas Nelson, Kindle Edition.

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