The Catalog of Good Deeds

Question: "At the beginning of Psalm 33 (in the Septuagint), which we hear often in the liturgical services, is the line "In the Lord shall my soul be praised." This seems a strange way of putting things. What do you think this means? Are there other similar verses in the Scriptures?"

In the Boston Psalter (the translation we use liturgically), this verse is translated:

"In the Lord shall my soul be praised; let the meek hear and be glad."

This is a very literal translation of the Greek Septuagint, which is a very literal translation of the Hebrew. The King James version translates this verse as:

"My soul shall make her boast in the Lord: the humble shall hear thereof, and be glad" (Psalm 34:2).

Which translates the Hebrew idiom in a way that more clearly conveys the sense of the Hebrew. A more literal translation of the Hebrew would read:

"In the LORD doth my soul boast herself, the humble hear and rejoice."

By comparing different translations, you can often get a better idea of the range of meaning of the words in a text, and this is a good example of that.

The inscription of Psalm 33 [34], links this Psalm to David's flight from Saul, and his deliverance from the Philistine King of Gath in 1 Samuel 21:10-15:

"And David arose and fled that day for fear of Saul, and went to Achish the king of Gath. And the servants of Achish said unto him, Is not this David the king of the land? did they not sing one to another of him in dances, saying, Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands? And David laid up these words in his heart, and was sore afraid of Achish the king of Gath. And he changed his behaviour before them, and feigned himself mad in their hands, and scrabbled on the doors of the gate, and let his spittle fall down upon his beard. Then said Achish unto his servants, Lo, ye see the man is mad: wherefore then have ye brought him to me? Have I need of mad men, that ye have brought this fellow to play the mad man in my presence? shall this fellow come into my house?"

St. Basil the Great's homily on this Psalm provides a good interpretation of the verse in question, which explains it in the light of this background:

""In the Lord shall my soul be praised." "Let no one," David says, "praise my intelligence, through which I was preserved from dangers." For, not in the power of man, nor in wisdom, but in the grace of God is salvation. "Let not," it is said, "the rich man glory in his riches, nor the wise man in his wisdom, nor the strong man in his strength, but let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth" the Lord his God [Jeremiah 9:23-24]. If, however, someone is praised for beauty of body or renowned parentage, his soul is not praised in the Lord, but each person of such a kind is occupied with vanity. The ordinary professions, in fact, those of governor, doctor, orator, or architect who constructs cities, pyramids, labyrinths, or any other expensive or ponderous masses of buildings, do not merit to be truly praised. They who are praised for these things do not keep their soul in the Lord. It suffices us for every dignity to be called servants of such a great Lord. Certainly, one who ministers to the King will not be high-minded because he has been assigned to this particular rank of the ministry, and having been considered worthy to serve God, he will not contrive for himself praises from elsewhere, will he, as if the call of the Lord did not suffice for all pre-eminence of glory and distinction?"

Therefore, "in the Lord shall my soul be praised: let the meek hear and rejoice." Since with the help of God, by deceiving my enemies, he says, I have successfully obtained safety without war, by only the changing of my countenance, "Let the meek hear" that it is possible even for those at peace to erect a trophy, and for those not fighting to be named victors. "And let them rejoice," being strengthened to embrace meekness by my example. "O Lord, remember David, and all his meekness" (Psalm 131 [132]:1 LXX]. Meekness is indeed the greatest of the virtues; therefore, it is counted among the beatitudes. "Blessed are the meek," it is said, "for they shall posses the earth" [Matthew 5:4] (The Fathers of the Church: St. Basil, Exegetic Homilies,, Homily 16, trans. Sister Agnes Clare Way, C.D.P. (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1963), p. 251ff).

By Fr. John Whiteford

Source: http://fatherjohn.blogspot.com/2017/07/stump-priest-in-lord-shall-my-soul-be.html

Putting words on a page often helps to clarify our thinking. In writing The Forgotten Faith: Ancient Insights for Contemporary Believers from Eastern Christianity (Cascade Books, 2013), I attempted to present key Orthodox insights in ways that average Americans could appreciate them, not as exotic or abstract ideas, but as invitations to the abundant life found in Jesus Christ. To connect with people today, we have to begin where they live, so to speak, which may require making some unusual connections. So here we go…

Food, sex, and athletics are probably more real to most people in our society than is the Lord. Contrary to the assumptions of popular culture, true Christianity is not an escape from the world as know it to an invisible and imaginary realm. Our Orthodox faith does not require us to abandon or condemn any dimension of life, but instead to offer all that we are and do for fulfillment, blessing, and healing. There is no part of our existence that is intrinsically evil or cut off from the good news of our salvation. We become more fully who God created us to be through the practices of our Orthodox faith in the world as know it.

Take eating and drinking, for example. The biblical story of the corruption of humanity and the entire creation begins with the abuse of food in the Garden of Eden. There was nothing wrong with the fruit of the vine, but Adam and Eve chose to use it to satisfy their self-centered desires instead of obeying God and growing closer to Him. Jesus Christ set right the place of food by using bread and wine as Communion, as the menu of the Heavenly Banquet. Almost all of us struggle with passions related to overindulgence in food and drink of one form or another. The Lord does not save us by condemning what we tend to abuse, but instead by Himself becoming our food and drink. He fulfills the original role of the fruits of creation in giving life and strengthening our relationship with God and one another.

Orthodox Christians fast, not because there is something wrong with food itself, but because there is something wrong with each of us personally and spiritually. In other words, we have followed Adam and Eve in using these blessings for something other than their intended purposes and, consequently, have become slaves to our distorted desires. No wonder that so many people today are obese, have eating disorders, or develop diabetes due to an unhealthy diet. By learning to discipline our appetites a bit on fast days, we gain some experience in controlling other self-centered desires for pleasure or simply getting our own way. We can direct the money saved by eating a humble diet to serving Christ in the poor, even as we grow in humility when we find it hard to be content with broccoli and tofu instead of steak and eggs. It is through the struggle to discipline our desires that we become more fully the people God created human beings to be in the first place.

If fasting is not a sufficiently touchy topic, let’s turn now to sex. As the lyrics of both country music and rap demonstrate, the temptations in this area of life are powerful even as the consequences of our missteps in it are grave. Since contemporary American culture has lost all sense of chastity, it is imperative that Orthodox believers—especially our youth—are solidly grounded in traditional Christian teaching and practice about holiness in the relationship between man and woman. Unfortunately, movies, music, the internet, and other forms of media celebrate corrupt ways of living that lead people very far from the paths to the Kingdom that Jesus Christ blessed and the saints have exemplified. Though it is terribly unpopular to say today, we must bear witness to the countercultural view that sexual intimacy should occur only within marriage between one man and one woman. Here two persons become one and, in the normal course of things, bring a new person into the world from their embodied love for one another. Not simply a matter of morality or biology, we encounter a profound image of the Holy Trinity in the Christian family, for distinctive persons share a common life and love. Our aim in sexual ethics is higher than enhancing public health or securing consent between the parties involved, for marriage and celibacy are both means of participating in the eternal life that Christ has brought to the world. We should not be surprised that the One who created us as man and woman also directs us how to use our sexuality for our salvation. To embrace anything less is to distort what it means for human beings to be in the image and likeness of God as male and female.

Despite what the advocates of the sexual revolution maintain, there is nothing new under the sun. St. Paul dealt with just about every form of human decadence imaginable in Corinth, and Jesus Christ taught a sexual ethic in the Sermon on the Mount that still challenges even the most righteous to grow in purity of heart. Whether we are married or celibate, we all have more than enough challenge to fight our own passions and keep a close watch on our thoughts and desires. The self-righteous judgment of anyone else is simply not our concern. Again contrary to popular opinion, it is possible—and it is imperative for Orthodox believers– to maintain the ancient Christian vision of sexuality and marriage without becoming like the Pharisees. Both St. Photini (the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4) and St. Mary of Egypt, for example, got off to a bad start in this regard, but ultimately became great saints of the Church. Thank God, there is hope for us all to become more fully who God intends us to be.

Given the skimpy costumes and suggestive movements of some cheerleaders and dance teams today, there is at least some connection in popular culture between sex and athletics. Though we rarely think of sports in relation to religion, there are also some similarities between gatherings of fans and of worshippers. Both congregate as a community to take on a collective identity that they show by what they say and do. Orthodox stand up, raise their voices, and make distinctive hand gestures (i.e., cross themselves) in a familiar pattern, as do fans of many sports. Where I live in West Texas, high school football fans drive long distances, sit or stand in blazing heat or bitter cold, and then arrive back home in the middle of the night. Truth be told, many sports fans make a much greater offering of time, energy, and effort for their teams than many Orthodox do for the worship of the Church. There is no question that more families and kids make participation in athletics a higher priority than participation in the worship of God. Some who cannot imagine making time for vespers or matins, for example, think nothing of enduring the hardships of sports practice for hours in very hot or cold temperatures.

It is all a matter of priorities, of course. Human beings are going to worship something, and in our culture athletics has become a god to many people. There is certainly nothing wrong with sports in and of itself, but the excessive focus that so many place on it should serve as a reminder that the true race is not for the perishable crown of the praise of others, but for the imperishable crown that God gives to His true and faithful servants. Instead of judging anyone, we should be reminded by the dedication of sports enthusiasts that it is human nature to sacrifice for what we love and to take joy even in daunting tasks that require discipline and steadfast commitment. If athletes and fans devote so much for what amounts to healthful entertainment, how much more should Orthodox Christians devote themselves to fighting their passions, serving Christ in their neighbors, and participating in the collective worship of the Church as a foretaste of the Heavenly Banquet?

Let’s be clear: To worship the stomachs, sexual desires, and athletic abilities of human beings is simply to commit idolatry and degrade ourselves. In contrast, to offer them and every other dimension of our life and world to God is to embrace the calling to grow in the divine likeness. That’s not an escape from reality; instead, it is our pathway to real life in a universe created, redeemed, and sustained by God. All creation finds its proper place and fulfillment in Him, including you and me.

By Fr. Philip LeMasters

Source: https://blogs.ancientfaith.com/easternchristianinsights/2014/01/29/food-sex-and-sports-idols-or-pathways-to-salvation/

In the Orthodox Divine Liturgy, after the Trisagion Hymn comes the chanting of the prokeimenon and of the epistle. In many places the prokeimenon now has practically no purpose or significance, and looks like a verbal tag chanted in haste by the reader to introduce the epistle which follows it, for the people either make no congregational response to the chanting of the prokeimenon or a distinctly minimal one.

Originally of course the prokeimenon was chanted precisely in order to facilitate a congregational response, because the prokeimenon was the refrain they were to sing interspersed among the verses of the psalm that the reader chanted. The prokeimenon then did not serve as an introductory tag to the epistle, but as part of a psalm which was inserted between the Old Testament reading and the epistle. This psalm provided an opportunity for the people to rest from listening and to refresh their attention by singing before listening to the next lesson. (We see this same practice of inserting a psalm between numerous readings in the Vespers of Holy Friday, when the faithful listen to substantial readings from Exodus 33, Job 42, Isaiah 52-54, and 1 Corinthians 1. The prokeimenal psalms there are interspersed between these readings and provide a break from listening.) In today’s usage, the Old Testament reading has dropped away from the Liturgy, leaving the interspersed psalm hanging with not much to do, its once-numerous verses now reduced to a single verse. No wonder in some places even this verse is now omitted; its original function has now become superfluous. One could wish for the restoration of the first lesson and the interspersed psalm, not the further reduction of the psalm’s refrain.

But however the prokeimenon is chanted, after it comes the reading of the epistle, usually from the pen of St. Paul. The reader chants it from the midst of the assembly, facing east along with the rest of the people, for it represents the abiding voice of the apostle still sounding in the midst of the Church. It is too easy to under-value this reading, especially if the deacon insists upon doing the pre-Gospel censing of the Gospel book and much else during the time when the epistle is being read. The deacon may regard it is a kind of liturgical multi-tasking, but it actually serves to denigrate the significance of the epistle. St. Paul should not have to compete with the deacon and the bells on his censer for the people’s attention. His words should command the undivided attention of all—including the deacon.

We can miss also the full significance of the epistles. We regard it as “Scripture”, a holy text, and of course it is. But it is also a personal letter addressed and written to people other than ourselves. In listening to the epistle we are in fact reading someone else’s personal mail. Think of how it would look if we read a letter addressed to someone else in a public place—say a personal letter written by the bishop and addressed to the priest. Wouldn’t this be regarded as a bit odd, and perhaps a little inappropriate? But no one regards the reading of Paul’s letter to the Corinthians as odd or inappropriate, despite the fact that we are not Corinthians and the letter was written to people other than ourselves.

This is because the value of the letter resides not in the personal circumstances which Paul addressed, but in the abiding apostolic witness. These epistles reveal how the apostles dealt with problems in their own day, and thus how they would deal with the same problems should they befall us. The Corinthians were told, for example, that the person who was living in open and serious sexual sin (in this case, living with his step-mother) must be excommunicated (1 Corinthians 5:1f), and so through this particular example we know how the apostles would deal with open and serious sexual sin in our own congregations today. We can learn from these epistles what the apostles thought about who Jesus was, what salvation consisted of, and thus how we must therefore conduct our lives. Because the Church is apostolic, their words and views have an abiding and authoritative significance for us. Paul’s words to the Corinthians are not out-dated vestiges of controversies and cases long dead, but living words of contemporary counsel. No wonder we read them every time we meet to celebrate the Lord’s Eucharistic presence among us.

The epistles also reveal the nature of our salvation—that is a corporate reality, not an individual and private one. If Christianity were a philosophy, it might be embraced and followed privately, without much reference to others who decide to adopt that philosophy themselves. But our faith is not a philosophy, but a family. Each one of the epistles was written to a community, a family, a group of believers who met together every week as the body of Christ. The exceptions of the epistles to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon, prove this rule, for they were written to individuals to give them advice for ruling and living in the church community (see 1 Timothy 3:14-15). Salvation consists of being part of the Church, and of finding our identity and healing within it.

It is easy to zone out mentally during the reading of the epistle, or to regard it as a mere add-on. This is especially so if the homily is routinely based not on the epistle, but on the Gospel reading. But we must not let our attention flag and our minds wander, as if St. Paul had nothing important to say to us that day. We should listen up and pay strict attention. After all, before the epistle is read, the deacon cries out, “Wisdom!” and “Let us attend!” If we want to leave the Church assembly with more wisdom than we had when we entered it, we should indeed attend to what Christ’s apostles say to us.

By Fr. Lawrence Farley

Source: https://blogs.ancientfaith.com/nootherfoundation/commentary-divine-liturgy-epistle/

Everything came together in Alla Mescherova’s life seemingly as it should: auditing classes in the Repin Academy of Arts in St. Petersburg, then learning iconography in the “School of Ecclesiastical Arts” in Tver—if it hadn’t been for one thing: Alfia (as her parents named her) grew up in a Muslim family, who held the traditions of their ancestors sacred. Nevertheless, her soul found its home in Orthodox Christianity.

—Few Muslims, especially Muslim women, resolve to change their religion against their family’s wishes. What happened to turn the wheel of your family history around so sharply?

—I was born to a Muslim family. Both of my grandmothers were believers and prayed the namaz. My father’s mother was particularly pious—she prayed several times a day according to the Muslim custom, and she taught me the Muslim prayers. Unfortunately the prayers did not touch me because I was repeating them in Arabic, which I did not understand. Grandmother did not know the translation. As I can remember I searched for a conscious faith, and that is why a trusting relationship with God never came together then.

Alla Mescherova

—When did it begin to come together?

—After completing school I continued with determination to search for the meaning of life, beginning with the entire Koran. But I did not find the answers to my questions in that wise book and so began reading various philosophers: Marxists, idealists, and then Soloviev, Berdyaev, and Rozanov. The last of these nudged me toward Christ. But my path to Him would be very thorny: At the end of the 1980s, against the background of a general interest in all things paranormal, certain “abilities” opened up in me and for several years I was stuck in the mire of esotericism, then acquiring a mass of various phobias. In my head then was, in the words of Fr. Andrei Kuryaev, the Russian intelligentsia’s favorite dish—a casserole of Buddhism, esotericism, and theosophy. It was all flavored with an Islamic sauce and peppered with a vague idea of Christianity. It was then that I began to read the Gospels, and I put them under my pillow at night, because only then could I sleep peacefully; without them I was wracked with nightmares. In 1987 my grandmother became sick with cancer and by autumn she was bedridden, worrying above all about how she would most likely die in winter and they would bury her in the cold ground. Then I had a purely coincidental conversation with my teacher while I was sketching on the banks of the Smolenka River, and told him how my grandmother has been near death for over two weeks, and the doctors said she would not live. He offered to take me to Blessed Xenia [of Petersburg], whose chapel was not far away in the Smolensk cemetery, because Xenia helps everyone. When we arrived he showed me where to buy a candle and where to place it. This was at about four o’clock. I prayed from the heart, asking Xenia to help my grandmother and ease her suffering. For some strange reason I had so much trust in an Orthodox saint whom I did not even know that when I came home that evening I wasn’t even surprised to see my grandmother walking around the apartment, and that she had begun to feel better at precisely four o’clock.

—After this you came to Orthodoxy without any doubts?

Icon of the Descent into hades

—It wasn’t all so simple. By that time I had read the Gospels and went to church regularly, but I did not have the resolve to be baptized. After all, it is a serious step to change your faith. I understood that this would be a blow to my parents, and I feared for their health. I only asked the Lord to give me a clear and comprehensible sign so that I could understand whether it was His will that I be baptized. And one day I came to church on the Smolenka. There were two hours yet before the beginning of services, not many people present, and I stood in the side church of St. Xenia of Petersburg, leaning on the column. Suddenly the space around me changed—everything disappeared. There was no floor, no ceiling, and nothing at all; however it was not emptiness but a thick dark blueness, almost blackness. It was the black that you see in the mandorla on the Novgorod icon, “Descent into hades.” For a long time I could not understand why the space was dark and only a few years later I read in the writings of Dionysios the Aeropagite that people see Divine uncreated light as darkness. Well, it was insanely beautiful, absolutely incomprehensible, and my feelings were like what a child must feel at his mother’s bosom—protection and love. Then out of the haze enshrouding the entire area a hand stretched toward me holding a cross on a chain. I reached out with the palm of my hand, and when they placed that cross in it, I immediately returned to reality. The next day I went to be baptized without any doubts.

The Holy Trinity. Icon by A. Meschereva

—Did iconography come as one of the facets of your profession?

—This was God’s will, and it has its prehistory. In about 1994 a global crisis happened in my life: first of all a creative one—I couldn’t paint pictures; second, the object of my love left me, slamming the door loudly; third, I nearly stopped breathing from asthma. But mainly I understood that this whole bouquet of misfortunes was the result of my former, stormy life. But the Lord never abandons us. Seeing that I could not get through this without God’s church, on February 6, the feast day of Blessed Xenia, I literally crawled to her chapel, stood through the services with great difficulty, and afterwards felt significantly better. When finally I stopped feeling like a half-dead invalid, and began to breathe more or less normally, the question came: How should I live from now on? Should I change my profession at age twenty-nine? But painting was not just a profession for me—for eleven years I had worked like one obsessed sixteen hours a day in order to become a painter. If I were to change professions it would mean that all my labors and sacrifices were in vain and my whole life up to that point was meaningless. Once I had heard about Diveyevo and St. Seraphim of Sarov, and I decided to go to him for the answer to my inner question, although I didn’t have any idea what a monastery was, or a pilgrimage. I went with a friend. We arrived at Nizhny Novgorod without complications but then… Instead of a pleasant three-hour ride in a comfortable bus we stood thirteen hours in a gigantic traffic jam due to a fierce snowstorm. No sooner had this torture on the road ceased than torture from snowdrifts began: For the first (and I hope, last) time in my life I tumbled into snow up to my neck.

I remember the first few days in the monastery like a nightmare. It was very hard. But it was there that I was born again. The woman we stayed with and with whom we formed a friendship within the two weeks we were in Diveyevo asked me one day: “Well, you are an artist. Perhaps you could paint me Blessed Xenia? This request turned out to be absolutely providential. Fr. Vladimir Shishkin came to me personally in the church when he saw my confusion. I explained my situation and he said that he did not bless me to paint an icon “just like that,” that this is something that must be studied, and therefore he blessed me to go to the iconographic work group of Andrei Zaprudny in Tver. He said it and then ran off on his business. I asked him as he ran away, “Batiushka, what about my parents?! After all, they are Muslims, they won’t understand, and won’t let me go to a strange city…” He just waved his hand as he walked and said, “The Lord will take care of it.” Fr. Vladimir turned out to be right: The Lord took care of it so that my parents calmly accepted the news that I was going to study in Tver. True, I didn’t tell them exactly that this was a school of ecclesiastical arts. Having stepped upon the path of Orthodoxy and a new profession, I always felt God’s help and Providence for me.

The Protection of Our Most Holy Lady the Theotokos and Ever-Virgin Mary. Icon by A. Meschereva

—Did you ever think of yourself as an iconographer before this? As an artist you probably always admired the works of Theophan the Greek, or Andrei Rublev?

—Before I was even baptized, in probably 1991, I was at an exhibition from the Russian Museum: Kandinsky, Malevich, Goncharev, Chagall, Philonov… But these painting were not what amazed me—although at the time I also loved all of that—but rather the Russian icons from the collection of Nikodim Kondakov, a famous art historian. This was a feast, an untold feeling of paradise and wonder, and I walked around for a long time as if dumbstruck. I returned to this exhibition ten times just for these icons, because Chagall, as it turns out, is not interesting even the third or fourth time around. I was astounded by the mastery with which these icons were painted. I saw paradise on them. And this was a discovery for me, because during Soviet times it was customary to look at Russian icons condescendingly. Now Italian Renaissance, that’s something, but an icon—of course it’s nice, but… This admiration of icons lived in me all the years following and became something like a key that would one day open the door into the world of Orthodoxy. This is what probably determined my present festive style.

—When you started painting saints did temptations arise, or did it all go smoothly and blessedly?

—The first icon I painted was the “Flogging of St. George.” The work group was then painting two iconostases for a Belorussian church, and one altar was dedicated to St. George. Then I painted the Trinity for the iconostasis in Diveyevo. In general there were mostly temptations connected with icon painting. I don’t recall any miracles, but temptations—over the top. Especially when you paint an image to go behind the holy table, a cross, or an iconostasis. I painted my first icon for the altar in the early 2000s for the church of St. Sergius of Radonezh in Sertolov, Vsevolozhskovo region of Leningrad province. I had just barely started my work when I managed to crack my rib. I didn’t think to take painkillers, and the doctors didn’t mention it. The icon board was huge and heavy, and I had to lift it, turn it, take it from the easel, carry it to the table, and then return it again to the easel. Batiushka wanted this icon painted as soon as possible and didn’t consider that I needed sick leave at least for a time after the fracture. Due to constant physical pain I was constantly in a deadened state, and maybe that is why the icon turned out good and prayerful. Everyone said that. The first two icons for my first iconostasis were very hard to do—something was always happening, and then it got a little easier, although it never went smoothly. One of these icons later streamed myrrh. An icon depicts the higher world. We sometimes forget that Christ’s love is behind this phrase. We depict a world of complete, harmonious Love, which cannot be sad, sorrowful, or gloomy—all of that is human. Orthodoxy is the joy of communion with God. That is why we glorify God, for He brought us the good tidings of Love. This is reflected in icons.

Source: http://orthochristian.com/77156.html

School’s out. No more early mornings. No more homework or after school activities, no more rushing around. Everyone’s finally able to relax, until suddenly, we hear the infamous, “I’m bored mom. There’s nothing to do.”

As parents, we scramble to begin pulling out of our minds all the wonderful things our children could begin doing to entertain themselves. Naturally, we feel this undue pressure to fix things for our children. And today, there are hundreds of options that exist to help us do just that, from Summer camps to digital media. But is boredom really a problem to be fixed?

Why can’t we just let our children be bored? Contrary to societal norms, children don’t need constant stimulation to thrive and in fact, studies show they thrive when just the opposite is true. Boredom allows for connections to be made and insights to be had. When our minds are at rest, we listen more intently to what we need, and what we enjoy, we can hear our own thoughts, and desires and are free to operate without direction or distraction. Our minds really require this time, to just wonder. It was Albert Einstein who once said, “Creativity is the residue of time wasted.” And, isn’t this so true? When we allow ourselves to be free, our mind and soul can truly go places.

So, although it’s natural for children to look to their parents to fix what’s wrong, remind yourself that boredom is not a problem to be fixed. Rather, it is a gift to the mind and soul.

A gift, that we too, must remind ourselves of when we fall prey to the urge to want to help our own children out of boredom. It was just a couple weeks back, when we let our children contend with boredom when we had to do a lot of work from home. What did they do? They built a giant sling shot out of two play chairs, a workout band and a cup. Then, my daughter decorated every toy animal she had with paper clothing that she designed herself and our son made some pretty interesting toy cars with his legos. They were so excited to show us what they had made and they were self-entertained for hours.

So, the next time your child utters, “I’m bored mom” remember to encourage your child by saying, “That’s a good problem to have, I would love to see what you can do with it.” Then, sit back and watch the growth and creativity unfold in the beautiful beings God has created in our children. The bonus is, you might get a little downtime to yourself!

Source: http://www.familylifeministry.atlanta.goarch.org/healthy-minds-healthy-souls-summer-fun-and-boredom/

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