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Under threats of disowning, I hereby re-enter blog land.
For at least a day.
It feels good just sitting here staring at a blank screen. I'm warming up my writing juices. They're frozen from under-use.
And, we DO live in Minnesota, so they freeze more quickly up here.
Speaking of Minnesota, you know I can't go a whole blog post without talking about how flippin' freezin' cold it is. It snowed 6 inches today, and tomorrow it's supposed to be blowing around at about freeway speed.
We have family from San Diego coming in a few days.
Muwahahaha. Snicker snicker.
So. It's Christmas time. Time for some holiday cheer.
I have a confession. I think Santa is creepy.
Call me a fuddydud.
But, we celebrate Jesus' birth on Christmas, and what more amazing fabulous thing is there for us to be celebrating? And Santa has a way of upstaging Jesus at His very own birthday celebration. That bugs me. Really bugs me.
So, last year, I was all about telling my kids that Santa's just a pretend man. They never thought he was real, so we never dashed their hopes. Case closed.
Case closed, right?
Fast forward 12 months to yesterday. Out of the clear blue, Corene brings a clay snowman up to me and says, "I'm going to give this to Santa".
(Rembmber, this child isn't one of those story-teller types. She's my black and white child. She doesn't do imaginary pretending unless she's saying, "Let's pretend ___fill in the blank___". She's serious about this.)
Me: Really? How?
Corene: I am going to put it on a plate by the fireplace next to his cookie (!!!!!!) and put a sign that says, 'For Santa'.
Me: Huh. (thinking... do I dash the imagination? Or do I let this go on?)
Me: We used to put out cookies and milk for Santa when I was a kid.
Corene: (Eyes LIGHTING up) REALLY? Cookies and MILK? Can WE do that, TOO? Does Santa LIKE milk?"
Me: I don't know. I think it was always gone on Christmas morning.
Corene: (Thinking....) But, Mom... what if Santa's allergic to milk??
Me: (Laughing) Should we give him some of your soy milk, just in case?
Corene: But he drank your milk when you were a kid.
Me: Yes, I guess he did.
Corene: So I think it's ok. Let's give him some regular milk.
Me: (Big sigh) OK. That sounds good. (Gulp) I think he'll like that.
Corene: (Big, big, beautiful smile) Me too.
Well, my big conviction of no Santa just went kaplooee. Right down the drain. Something about her sweet belief in something just so utterly unbelievable (reindeer on the roof, and a rather large man coming down the chimney?) warmed my heart and made me smile. I just couldn't spoil the fun.
But, Christmas day? It's a birthday party for Jesus. Birthday cake and all.
How do you make the day about Jesus?
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
And then He provided... again.
I love talking to people with a strong faith talk about different things that God has provided for them when resources were slim and needs were high.
Like the story from Great Grandpa: They needed wood to keep their cabin warm, and they had no wood. A prayer was prayed asking for a miracle. Minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and when they opened the door, nobody was there... except a pile of wood. It was snowing, and there were no footprints anywhere around the door or the pile of wood. An absolute miracle.
If you were in that situation, would you have prayed for a miracle, and believed God would provide?
Or would you have fretted about how you had no wood? Check.
Recently, I have been asking my God to stretch my faith so that I would pray prayers like that one.
In our first year of marriage, when we were both still in college, I prayed specific prayers like that a LOT, because, well, the needs were HIGH. And the resources were LOW. Really low. Like our entire monthly budget back then was less than our current mortgage payment kind of low.
And God provided:
The money to buy a computer - boom. It was there.
Incredible health insurance at a very low cost - there is no way health plans like that even exist anymore. And little did we know, we'd be needing it for some rather extensive medical bills that year.
A computer chair we had prayed for - a broken but fixable chair showed up in the hallway.
And at the end of our first year of marriage, a place to live AND work - all in one, God provided an apartment manager position for us.
Not to mention that whole first year of marriage our entire budget was like the 5 loaves and 2 fishes. I remember we tried to sit down and make a budget, but whenever we did, we always ended up with more expenses than we did income. Writing out a budget never worked. But we always had enough money to pay our bills. I remember us scratching our heads and saying, "how has this been working??" We never ever, not once went in the red.
And it's almost like our faith didn't take any human faith. God gave it to us freely. It was a no-brainer. "Well, of course God will provide!" Like, duh! I really honestly do not remember ever being stressed about money at all back then.
Except for the time I forgot to deposit a check and I overdrafted our bank account and had to pay $25 for one overdraft. That was stressful. That was my entire week's budget for food!! I remember that SO clearly. Anyhoo.
Then we both graduated and were a double-income-no-kids family, with NO rent (we managed an apartment complex, Matt was starting to get music gigs, and I worked full-time), and we had plenty of money. Suddenly I wasn't praying for provision or miracles because God was providing the resources through our jobs. How easy it is to forget that the provision is still coming from God. We got into an easy, comfortable time.
Once we had a mortgage payment, and then kids, and I cut way back on my work hours, we were living mostly on Matt's self-employment income. Which you all know is rock-solid and never fluctuates (HA!). So the game of trusting and praying and fretting began again. It's a game we've played for 6 years.
Sometimes we're good at it, relying on the trust and prayer. Sometimes we're not so good at it, relying on the fretting.
What we're relying on the fretting to do, I do not know. Let me know if you come up with a good outcome of fretting. So far I haven't come up with anything.
Several weeks ago, Lysa TerKeurst had a great story on her blog about a huge prayer of faith, and the miraculous outcome. I felt a spark in my heart, a little poke of the Holy Spirit, saying "I have all of this waiting for you, and more... just trust me". It really inspired me to begin to pray, "What should I be trusting you for, Lord? What am I holding on to that is rightfully yours?"
So, can you believe that all of THAT was a prelude for my story? Congratulations if you got this far!
We're having a foreign exchange student stay with us beginning in a few weeks, and we needed to have a desk and a bed in her room. Neither of which we own. Neither of which we really have room in the budget for at the moment. I prayed about it. A simple, seemingly selfish, not at all "spiritual" prayer. "Lord, we need a desk and a bed. Will you help us find them inexpensively?"
So I was looking on Craigslist, and searched "desk". That's it. Talk about a broad search.
The first, most recent listing that came up had been posted only 10 minutes earlier. It was a posting for a "FREE retro 50's desk". The desk was in this person's alley waiting to be hauled away.
The address of the house was 3 blocks away from my house. 3 blocks. I couldn't believe it. Within 20 minutes, we had loaded a very functional, large desk into our van! 3 blocks away! And the price? FREE!
It gets better. While we were waiting to load up the car and go pick it up, I got a call from my friend Sarah, and upon telling her what we were doing, and mentioning that we were looking for a bed also, she said, "Oh! My mom has a twin size matress and box spring that she wants to get rid of. What do you need?"
"Uh... a twin size matress and box spring. How much does she want for them?"
"Nothing. She says it's free!"
Woo. Hoo. !!!!!
One "selfish" prayer. And a wee bit of faith.
And one morning, within 20 minutes of each other, God provided a desk. And a bed. Not inexpensively, as I had requested. Better than I had requested. FREE.
"...him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think..." Ephesians 3:20
I don't want to over-spiritualize this, either, because it's not about a desk and a bed. God is far more interested in what's going on in my heart than he is in a bed or a desk.
But that's kind of my point. I am reminded about both the awesome power AND the personal care that the God of the Universe has taken on ME, little old ME and my cares and requests.
I believe that God impressed on me to pray that prayer- SO that he could provide far more abundantly than all I asked or thought- in order that I would see Him and praise Him.
Because that's just what He's like.
So, I'm asking it again. "What should I be trusting you for, Lord?"
Like the story from Great Grandpa: They needed wood to keep their cabin warm, and they had no wood. A prayer was prayed asking for a miracle. Minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and when they opened the door, nobody was there... except a pile of wood. It was snowing, and there were no footprints anywhere around the door or the pile of wood. An absolute miracle.
If you were in that situation, would you have prayed for a miracle, and believed God would provide?
Or would you have fretted about how you had no wood? Check.
Recently, I have been asking my God to stretch my faith so that I would pray prayers like that one.
In our first year of marriage, when we were both still in college, I prayed specific prayers like that a LOT, because, well, the needs were HIGH. And the resources were LOW. Really low. Like our entire monthly budget back then was less than our current mortgage payment kind of low.
And God provided:
The money to buy a computer - boom. It was there.
Incredible health insurance at a very low cost - there is no way health plans like that even exist anymore. And little did we know, we'd be needing it for some rather extensive medical bills that year.
A computer chair we had prayed for - a broken but fixable chair showed up in the hallway.
And at the end of our first year of marriage, a place to live AND work - all in one, God provided an apartment manager position for us.
Not to mention that whole first year of marriage our entire budget was like the 5 loaves and 2 fishes. I remember we tried to sit down and make a budget, but whenever we did, we always ended up with more expenses than we did income. Writing out a budget never worked. But we always had enough money to pay our bills. I remember us scratching our heads and saying, "how has this been working??" We never ever, not once went in the red.
And it's almost like our faith didn't take any human faith. God gave it to us freely. It was a no-brainer. "Well, of course God will provide!" Like, duh! I really honestly do not remember ever being stressed about money at all back then.
Except for the time I forgot to deposit a check and I overdrafted our bank account and had to pay $25 for one overdraft. That was stressful. That was my entire week's budget for food!! I remember that SO clearly. Anyhoo.
Then we both graduated and were a double-income-no-kids family, with NO rent (we managed an apartment complex, Matt was starting to get music gigs, and I worked full-time), and we had plenty of money. Suddenly I wasn't praying for provision or miracles because God was providing the resources through our jobs. How easy it is to forget that the provision is still coming from God. We got into an easy, comfortable time.
Once we had a mortgage payment, and then kids, and I cut way back on my work hours, we were living mostly on Matt's self-employment income. Which you all know is rock-solid and never fluctuates (HA!). So the game of trusting and praying and fretting began again. It's a game we've played for 6 years.
Sometimes we're good at it, relying on the trust and prayer. Sometimes we're not so good at it, relying on the fretting.
What we're relying on the fretting to do, I do not know. Let me know if you come up with a good outcome of fretting. So far I haven't come up with anything.
Several weeks ago, Lysa TerKeurst had a great story on her blog about a huge prayer of faith, and the miraculous outcome. I felt a spark in my heart, a little poke of the Holy Spirit, saying "I have all of this waiting for you, and more... just trust me". It really inspired me to begin to pray, "What should I be trusting you for, Lord? What am I holding on to that is rightfully yours?"
So, can you believe that all of THAT was a prelude for my story? Congratulations if you got this far!
We're having a foreign exchange student stay with us beginning in a few weeks, and we needed to have a desk and a bed in her room. Neither of which we own. Neither of which we really have room in the budget for at the moment. I prayed about it. A simple, seemingly selfish, not at all "spiritual" prayer. "Lord, we need a desk and a bed. Will you help us find them inexpensively?"
So I was looking on Craigslist, and searched "desk". That's it. Talk about a broad search.
The first, most recent listing that came up had been posted only 10 minutes earlier. It was a posting for a "FREE retro 50's desk". The desk was in this person's alley waiting to be hauled away.
The address of the house was 3 blocks away from my house. 3 blocks. I couldn't believe it. Within 20 minutes, we had loaded a very functional, large desk into our van! 3 blocks away! And the price? FREE!
It gets better. While we were waiting to load up the car and go pick it up, I got a call from my friend Sarah, and upon telling her what we were doing, and mentioning that we were looking for a bed also, she said, "Oh! My mom has a twin size matress and box spring that she wants to get rid of. What do you need?"
"Uh... a twin size matress and box spring. How much does she want for them?"
"Nothing. She says it's free!"
Woo. Hoo. !!!!!
One "selfish" prayer. And a wee bit of faith.
And one morning, within 20 minutes of each other, God provided a desk. And a bed. Not inexpensively, as I had requested. Better than I had requested. FREE.
"...him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think..." Ephesians 3:20
I don't want to over-spiritualize this, either, because it's not about a desk and a bed. God is far more interested in what's going on in my heart than he is in a bed or a desk.
But that's kind of my point. I am reminded about both the awesome power AND the personal care that the God of the Universe has taken on ME, little old ME and my cares and requests.
I believe that God impressed on me to pray that prayer- SO that he could provide far more abundantly than all I asked or thought- in order that I would see Him and praise Him.
Because that's just what He's like.
So, I'm asking it again. "What should I be trusting you for, Lord?"
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The lessons I learned one day.
It was a bad, awful, really lousy day.
There was absolutely nothing going wrong. That is, except inside my heart.
The kids were kinda bouncy. What's new.
The questions were aplenty. As always.
We were rushing to get out the door. As usual.
The kids were kinda bouncy. And I was saying, "SIT STILL!"
The questions were aplenty. And I was saying "NOT NOW!"
We were rushing to get out the door. And I was saying "COME ON!"
All was going fine. I had a vice-grip of control on my children. Until I realized the girls needed to put different shoes on (because it was MUD day at VBS, and mean ol' mom decided that the fancy shoes they had chosen for the day were not appropriate for getting caked in MUD - ahem).
Well, let's just say that my girls, at age 3 and 5, have a definite shoe fetish. The elder one because of comfort, the younger one because of style. Though different in root, they are equally intense.
Changing shoes was NOT in the plan. Some serious whining ensued.
I felt something snap in my head. Or maybe it was in my heart. I felt it throughout my body, though. I started yelling. "I DON'T CARE THAT THOSE ARE YOUR FAVORITE FANCY PINK SPARKLE SHOES, YOU NEED TO GO PUT CROCS OR FLIP FLOPS ON. RIGHT NOW, PLEASE!!" (Like how I added the please? That was just because I always set a good example for my kids in how I talk. Uh-huh.)
Then there was some sobbing, crying, gnashing of teeth. More whining, more frustration. It was ugly. U-G-L-Y.
Eventually, alternate mud shoes were found, and the whining ceased. But I was still in a funk. I was stomping around and barking orders.
Corene was trying valiantly to tie her shoes, but one was knotted. With fear in her voice, she squeaked out an "I can't".
I stomped over, ripped the shoe out of her hand (I'm sorry to say it did feel good), and started to "help".
At this point, Corene started bawling. I had crushed her.
A moment later, Ava started bawling.
I felt bad, knew it was all me. All my temper. All my anger. Nothing about them. But I didn't really care. It felt good. I didn't feel bad enough to change.
Proverbs 29:11 "A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control."
At this point, I'm not falling into the category I'd like to. Anger is a funny thing. The verse doesn't say, "A wise man never feels anger", does it? It simply says he keeps himself under control. I was most definitely giving full vent to my anger. It feels GOOD, at that moment.
Then. Ava's voice. "Mommy. You make me SAD."
"YOU make ME sad!" I huffed.
Then. Whooooosh. Conviction.
I'm thankful it wasn't a lightning bolt.
So, let's see here. Corene is bawling. Ava is bawling. Oh yes, now... Mommy is bawling.
There were hugs, kisses, apologies, "I forgive you"'s, and even some giggles. Wow, kids forgive easily. If my husband treated me like that, I can tell you right now that I wouldn't get over it for days. Days.
Lesson #1 learned from my kids: Forgive. Right now.
We were late to VBS.
But I didn't care anymore. My attitude had done a complete 180. Why had it improved so suddenly? Let's see... I'd confessed, both to my kids and to God. I had been quiet with Him for 30 seconds before we walked out the door and begged him to change my heart (note: 30 seconds of said alone time occurred while going potty. Of course. Typical-mom-fashion). As I sat there to pray, I realized that was the first time I'd even said "hello" to God that day, let alone asked Him to mold me or make me reflect Him to my kids.
Lesson #2 learned: Say hello to God. Right when you wake up.
Remembering our sermon from the previous week, on the way out the door, I said to Corene, "I'm so thankful that Jesus died on the cross. He forgives my sins, like when I'm angry and mean. He takes them away and doesn't even remember them! Isn't that amazing?"
Corene said, "YOUR sins, Mommy?"
Yep. All of that yucky heart you saw in me this morning? That'd be sin. And, Praise be to God, He took it away!
Lesson #3: Praise the Lord for the forgiveness of your sins. Because maybe even when you are really awful to your children, they might not know that you SINNED and needed to be forgiven. Both by them AND by God.
And the punch line of the whole morning. (Every hard morning deserves a punch line!) In the car on the way to VBS:
Me: (to Ava) Who forgives your sin?
Ava: ...God...
Me: Who forgives Mommy's sin?
Ava: (without missing a beat) ...Daddy...
--pause, while I look at her quizzically--
Ava: I mean... God?
Lesson #4: Walk humbly before God. Who is looking at you and equating you with God?
4 little lessons. One bad, awful, really lousy humble, beautiful day.
There was absolutely nothing going wrong. That is, except inside my heart.
The kids were kinda bouncy. What's new.
The questions were aplenty. As always.
We were rushing to get out the door. As usual.
The kids were kinda bouncy. And I was saying, "SIT STILL!"
The questions were aplenty. And I was saying "NOT NOW!"
We were rushing to get out the door. And I was saying "COME ON!"
All was going fine. I had a vice-grip of control on my children. Until I realized the girls needed to put different shoes on (because it was MUD day at VBS, and mean ol' mom decided that the fancy shoes they had chosen for the day were not appropriate for getting caked in MUD - ahem).
Well, let's just say that my girls, at age 3 and 5, have a definite shoe fetish. The elder one because of comfort, the younger one because of style. Though different in root, they are equally intense.
Changing shoes was NOT in the plan. Some serious whining ensued.
I felt something snap in my head. Or maybe it was in my heart. I felt it throughout my body, though. I started yelling. "I DON'T CARE THAT THOSE ARE YOUR FAVORITE FANCY PINK SPARKLE SHOES, YOU NEED TO GO PUT CROCS OR FLIP FLOPS ON. RIGHT NOW, PLEASE!!" (Like how I added the please? That was just because I always set a good example for my kids in how I talk. Uh-huh.)
Then there was some sobbing, crying, gnashing of teeth. More whining, more frustration. It was ugly. U-G-L-Y.
Eventually, alternate mud shoes were found, and the whining ceased. But I was still in a funk. I was stomping around and barking orders.
Corene was trying valiantly to tie her shoes, but one was knotted. With fear in her voice, she squeaked out an "I can't".
I stomped over, ripped the shoe out of her hand (I'm sorry to say it did feel good), and started to "help".
At this point, Corene started bawling. I had crushed her.
A moment later, Ava started bawling.
I felt bad, knew it was all me. All my temper. All my anger. Nothing about them. But I didn't really care. It felt good. I didn't feel bad enough to change.
Proverbs 29:11 "A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control."
At this point, I'm not falling into the category I'd like to. Anger is a funny thing. The verse doesn't say, "A wise man never feels anger", does it? It simply says he keeps himself under control. I was most definitely giving full vent to my anger. It feels GOOD, at that moment.
Then. Ava's voice. "Mommy. You make me SAD."
"YOU make ME sad!" I huffed.
Then. Whooooosh. Conviction.
I'm thankful it wasn't a lightning bolt.
So, let's see here. Corene is bawling. Ava is bawling. Oh yes, now... Mommy is bawling.
There were hugs, kisses, apologies, "I forgive you"'s, and even some giggles. Wow, kids forgive easily. If my husband treated me like that, I can tell you right now that I wouldn't get over it for days. Days.
Lesson #1 learned from my kids: Forgive. Right now.
We were late to VBS.
But I didn't care anymore. My attitude had done a complete 180. Why had it improved so suddenly? Let's see... I'd confessed, both to my kids and to God. I had been quiet with Him for 30 seconds before we walked out the door and begged him to change my heart (note: 30 seconds of said alone time occurred while going potty. Of course. Typical-mom-fashion). As I sat there to pray, I realized that was the first time I'd even said "hello" to God that day, let alone asked Him to mold me or make me reflect Him to my kids.
Lesson #2 learned: Say hello to God. Right when you wake up.
Remembering our sermon from the previous week, on the way out the door, I said to Corene, "I'm so thankful that Jesus died on the cross. He forgives my sins, like when I'm angry and mean. He takes them away and doesn't even remember them! Isn't that amazing?"
Corene said, "YOUR sins, Mommy?"
Yep. All of that yucky heart you saw in me this morning? That'd be sin. And, Praise be to God, He took it away!
Lesson #3: Praise the Lord for the forgiveness of your sins. Because maybe even when you are really awful to your children, they might not know that you SINNED and needed to be forgiven. Both by them AND by God.
And the punch line of the whole morning. (Every hard morning deserves a punch line!) In the car on the way to VBS:
Me: (to Ava) Who forgives your sin?
Ava: ...God...
Me: Who forgives Mommy's sin?
Ava: (without missing a beat) ...Daddy...
--pause, while I look at her quizzically--
Ava: I mean... God?
Lesson #4: Walk humbly before God. Who is looking at you and equating you with God?
4 little lessons. One bad, awful, really lousy humble, beautiful day.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Reflections on Mother's Day Part 2
When I am happy, I have the tendency to think everyone else is happy, too.
We don't often assume that the people around us are hurting. At least I don't. I'm relatively happy-go-lucky by nature, and I assume everyone around me is nice, honest, happy, and rich. Kidding on the rich.
So when I go to church on Mother's day weekend, and it is a happy time for me, I greet those around me with joy!
I'm a mother! You're a mother! Lets honor the mothers and make them feel special! In some churches I've been in, they've had the mothers stand or had a flower to hand out to each mother, or some token of honor. I've never thought anything about it. It's really a nice gesture.
My church does something a bit different. A bit unconventional. They don't have anything for the mothers. They have white roses at the front of the church that are for anyone that finds Mother's Day painful for any reason. It might be that your mom is no longer living. It could be infertility or the loss of a child. Or both. Or maybe your desire is to marry and have children, and yet you remain single. Given these situations, the truth is that there are many around me that feel pain on Mother's Day. There were many, many people last Sunday with white roses in their hands. They were everywhere.
Read Jenna's post from last Sunday. It's beautiful. Worth the 15 second pop over there.
This Mother's Day, at my Aunt's church in California, upon entering the sanctuary door, each woman was asked, "Are you a Mother?". If the woman said, "Yes", they were given a flower and a small box of chocolates.Sounds like a good idea, doesn't it? In theory? Mother's day is about honoring mothers. Let's honor the mothers!
But, you know where I'm going with this. Put yourself in the position of someone (many many someones) who have attempted pregnancy for years, or have lost children to miscarraige, and are yearning to be a mommy. This sweet woman walks into the door of that church, probably dreading every second of the big "Happy Mother's Day" message. Maybe she didn't even want to go to church at all that day. Last year on Mother's Day, she thought "This will be my last Mother's Day without children! Next Mother's Day, it will be my day!" But, here's another Mother's Day with pain. Raw pain. Now as she walks into church, she is asked, "Are you a Mother?!" and then given nothing when she squeaks out a "no". So hurtful.
The only reason I am now sensitive to this pain is because of the beautiful way my church has dealt with this issue (and the many people I saw with white roses there), as well as watching my BFF Auntie struggle through 3 of the lousiest Mother's Days the last 3 years.
I'm not on a soapbox about insensitive churches. I'm one of the insensitive ones. Being sensitized by other's pain.
This is another way we can rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. (Rom 12:15)
I can't mourn with someone who needs me to mourn with her if I'm blind to her pain.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Reflections on Mother's Day Part 1
So, I'm not a day late. Not even two. I'm a stinkin' THREE days late!
We've been busy with family in town, had a great weekend in the fun and family department, but not so good for my blogging bone. I fell into bed exhausted each night, with no brain cell left to type.
So... now that your Mother's day sentiments are packed away, I'm going to ask that you pull them back out again. Humor me?
There is a thought whirring about in my head, and I must attempt to unpack it somehow. It all began with one very small exchange between my hubby and my visiting family member (VFM), whom I love dearly. Thoughts tend to take a snowball effect in my little head. So, strap in, and hang on. It went something like this:
(CHAOS)
(Excited kids running around being sweet, albeit somewhat LOUD)
(Mommy and Daddy smiling, enjoying our children)
(VFM looking a wee bit pained)
Daddy: (In all sincerity) What would we do without kids?
(Mommy loving Daddy sooo much right then)
VFM: Umm... (snickers)... well... (snickers...)
(pause)
So the whirring began.
Are children a means to an end? Do we not appreciate them in their childish state simply because they are exhausting? Simply because they are sometimes foolish and in need of correction?
Do we appreciate our self-centered lives so much that we see young children as a burden?
Does this attitude so permeate our society that we are not exempt from it?
If I'm honest with myself, I'm there some of the time. My selfish spirit looks at my kids as a burden a lot of the time.
Psalm 127:3-5
Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them!
In an article I read on this topic, the author re-words this verse into a (tongue-in-cheek) modern day version:
Lo, children are a burden from the Lord; and the fruit of the womb must be his way of testing us. As the source of endless work and continual aggravation, so are the children of one’s youth. Unhappy is the man who hears his neighbor ask, “Do all those kids belong to you?”
Isn't that just a riot? It hit my funny bone. And my sad bone. Cause, it... umm... hits a little too close to home.
So, here's the thought to make you go hmmm...
I could not be a mother without my children. They are the very beings that make me a mother. So, is Mother's day about ME? (If you look at my house on a typical Mother's Day, you will say, yes! It's about ME. Because I don't lift a finger all day. I don't cook. I don't clean. I take a nap if I want... and the list goes on. ) All good things... but, what am I escaping from? Am I getting a "break" from my "burden"? Or a "hooray" for my sacrifice? (Please note: I am NOT suggesting we change our Mother's Day tradition. Please don't. I love it.) I'm just pondering what my heart's attitude is behind it.
I am a firm believer that the "Martyr Mom Syndrome" is a dangerous disease indeed, one I suffer from on occasion. It's possible to take this all too far - "Since children are a blessing, and they aren't a burden, Moms shouldn't need breaks, I can do it all and should do it all with no help, and if I ask for help then I'm not enjoying my kids and I'm being selfish and I'm not a good mother". This is not what I'm going after, ok? Sorry for the disclaimer. Just gotta cover my bases. :)
I want to enjoy my children.
I want to enjoy being their mother.
I want my kids to feel enjoyed.
Yes disciplined, yes trained, yes loved, but... enjoyed.
We've been busy with family in town, had a great weekend in the fun and family department, but not so good for my blogging bone. I fell into bed exhausted each night, with no brain cell left to type.
So... now that your Mother's day sentiments are packed away, I'm going to ask that you pull them back out again. Humor me?
There is a thought whirring about in my head, and I must attempt to unpack it somehow. It all began with one very small exchange between my hubby and my visiting family member (VFM), whom I love dearly. Thoughts tend to take a snowball effect in my little head. So, strap in, and hang on. It went something like this:
(CHAOS)
(Excited kids running around being sweet, albeit somewhat LOUD)
(Mommy and Daddy smiling, enjoying our children)
(VFM looking a wee bit pained)
Daddy: (In all sincerity) What would we do without kids?
(Mommy loving Daddy sooo much right then)
VFM: Umm... (snickers)... well... (snickers...)
(pause)
So the whirring began.
Are children a means to an end? Do we not appreciate them in their childish state simply because they are exhausting? Simply because they are sometimes foolish and in need of correction?
Do we appreciate our self-centered lives so much that we see young children as a burden?
Does this attitude so permeate our society that we are not exempt from it?
If I'm honest with myself, I'm there some of the time. My selfish spirit looks at my kids as a burden a lot of the time.
Psalm 127:3-5
Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them!
In an article I read on this topic, the author re-words this verse into a (tongue-in-cheek) modern day version:
Lo, children are a burden from the Lord; and the fruit of the womb must be his way of testing us. As the source of endless work and continual aggravation, so are the children of one’s youth. Unhappy is the man who hears his neighbor ask, “Do all those kids belong to you?”
Isn't that just a riot? It hit my funny bone. And my sad bone. Cause, it... umm... hits a little too close to home.
So, here's the thought to make you go hmmm...
I could not be a mother without my children. They are the very beings that make me a mother. So, is Mother's day about ME? (If you look at my house on a typical Mother's Day, you will say, yes! It's about ME. Because I don't lift a finger all day. I don't cook. I don't clean. I take a nap if I want... and the list goes on. ) All good things... but, what am I escaping from? Am I getting a "break" from my "burden"? Or a "hooray" for my sacrifice? (Please note: I am NOT suggesting we change our Mother's Day tradition. Please don't. I love it.) I'm just pondering what my heart's attitude is behind it.
I am a firm believer that the "Martyr Mom Syndrome" is a dangerous disease indeed, one I suffer from on occasion. It's possible to take this all too far - "Since children are a blessing, and they aren't a burden, Moms shouldn't need breaks, I can do it all and should do it all with no help, and if I ask for help then I'm not enjoying my kids and I'm being selfish and I'm not a good mother". This is not what I'm going after, ok? Sorry for the disclaimer. Just gotta cover my bases. :)
I want to enjoy my children.
I want to enjoy being their mother.
I want my kids to feel enjoyed.
Yes disciplined, yes trained, yes loved, but... enjoyed.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Days and Praise and Glaze
I had one of those days today.
Freezer catastrophe, gas leak, Dr's appointment that was not fun. ahem., various and assorted small things that made me want to throw something. You know the kind of day? Thankfully, mercifully, these days do not happen all that often. I will write about the freezer catastrophe some day soon. I'm. not. ready. yet. Still. too. fresh. Must. go. throw. something.
With all of the struggles in the day, God gave me some beautiful things.
A gorgeous day that melted some of my tension away...
A sweet friend who made my day without even knowing it...
A HI-larious little boy who played peek-a-boo and melted my heart clear down to my toesies...
A little twinkle-toed little girl who showed grace and art...
A brown-eyed girl whose smile warmed my insides...
A lifelong friend and hubby extraordinaire who made my heart burst...
Psalm 150 - which made my heart sing...
Freezer catastrophe, gas leak, Dr's appointment that was not fun. ahem., various and assorted small things that made me want to throw something. You know the kind of day? Thankfully, mercifully, these days do not happen all that often. I will write about the freezer catastrophe some day soon. I'm. not. ready. yet. Still. too. fresh. Must. go. throw. something.
With all of the struggles in the day, God gave me some beautiful things.
A gorgeous day that melted some of my tension away...
A sweet friend who made my day without even knowing it...
A HI-larious little boy who played peek-a-boo and melted my heart clear down to my toesies...
A little twinkle-toed little girl who showed grace and art...
A brown-eyed girl whose smile warmed my insides...
A lifelong friend and hubby extraordinaire who made my heart burst...
Psalm 150 - which made my heart sing...
Love it how in the emotion of a bad day, I have even more capacity to praise God, because my emotions are already right there, at the surface. Thank You, Lord, for giving me the Psalms to read today.
*************************************************************
We interrupt this explosion of feelings of thankfulness to bring you an important message:
(How's that for the lousiest transition evah?)
I must give y'all a Foody Friday category. Let's go with spicy food. Not necessarily HOT food, but something with a kick. No tater tot casserole here. Think ethnic, or barbecue, or Mexican (I guess that's ethnic, but it's a whole category on it's own, ain't it?), or even herb-y. Have fun with it.
See you on Friday!
Monday, April 28, 2008
A Bend in the Road
God is God. I don't want to try to be God. I really don't.
But, the truth is... sometimes I DO.
Actually, a lot. Probably daily.
The road of my family's life currently has a bend ahead. I can see to the bend, but I can't see past it. I can't tell which way it turns, if it goes down a hill, up a hill, what the terrain is like.
I KNOW there is a bend. I can see it. But beyond it, who knows? I am so glad that I know who knows. And God not only knows, but He built the road. He crafted the very ruts in the road as well as the flowers alongside the road to smell. He knows what rivers we have to cross and what beauty we will behold.
I have complete peace in letting go of the control of this situation (at least right this millisecond). Because, we've been walking this road for a long time. And God has a reputation in my life of making Himself known and shown. I can look back and see His provision, His plan. His creation of our family, from the very start. He has led us each step of the way, with a plan. Why should I doubt?
And, of course there's the promises in scripture that God will never leave us. That he will provide for all of our needs. That he will not give us more than we can bear. That HE is Holy. Holy, Holy, Holy. Worthy of our praise. Always.
I leave all of this a little obscure not so much because I want to be private about it (don't worry, there's only about half of a private bone in my entire body... another time, another place, I will share...), but because I know that there are a myriad of bends in a myriad of roads out there. All look different. To compare them, some are more heart-wrenching than others. But the person walking down a road, looking at a bend, is facing a challenge. It's hard. It's hard to let go of the control. It's hard to say no to the fear.
My heart has been caught up today in praying/thinking/crying for a woman named Katie. Katie's family went to my church when I was in High School. She's approximately my age, she is married and has 3 young children, the youngest is a little boy less than a year old. 6 weeks ago, Katie found out she had an aggressive form of colon cancer. She had surgery a few weeks ago and had been recovering but has taken a turn for the worse. As of yesterday, her organs had shut down and she is in a "Only a miracle could save her" state of being, per the words of the doctors.
That's a bend that makes me thankful for my own bend in the road.
But I'd be lying if I didn't also tell you confidently that Katie's bend is also a bend that God crafted. He doesn't only make good bends. He makes tragic bends too. Katie is a woman that oozes faith and hope and has made MANY people around her aware that God is God. And worthy to be praised. I feel strongly that Katie's bend is birthing new believers in Christ. And bringing Glory to Him. And, maybe, Katie's bend will include a miracle.
I AM thankful for my bend ahead. I am thankful for the One who built the road and the scenery, the rivers and the landscape. I am thankful for the family that God gave me to walk the road with. For for the best friend and leader my husband is, and the incredible blessings my kids are.
The End Of The Road Is But A Bend In The Road
by Helen Steiner Rice
But, the truth is... sometimes I DO.
Actually, a lot. Probably daily.
The road of my family's life currently has a bend ahead. I can see to the bend, but I can't see past it. I can't tell which way it turns, if it goes down a hill, up a hill, what the terrain is like.
I KNOW there is a bend. I can see it. But beyond it, who knows? I am so glad that I know who knows. And God not only knows, but He built the road. He crafted the very ruts in the road as well as the flowers alongside the road to smell. He knows what rivers we have to cross and what beauty we will behold.
I have complete peace in letting go of the control of this situation (at least right this millisecond). Because, we've been walking this road for a long time. And God has a reputation in my life of making Himself known and shown. I can look back and see His provision, His plan. His creation of our family, from the very start. He has led us each step of the way, with a plan. Why should I doubt?
And, of course there's the promises in scripture that God will never leave us. That he will provide for all of our needs. That he will not give us more than we can bear. That HE is Holy. Holy, Holy, Holy. Worthy of our praise. Always.
I leave all of this a little obscure not so much because I want to be private about it (don't worry, there's only about half of a private bone in my entire body... another time, another place, I will share...), but because I know that there are a myriad of bends in a myriad of roads out there. All look different. To compare them, some are more heart-wrenching than others. But the person walking down a road, looking at a bend, is facing a challenge. It's hard. It's hard to let go of the control. It's hard to say no to the fear.
My heart has been caught up today in praying/thinking/crying for a woman named Katie. Katie's family went to my church when I was in High School. She's approximately my age, she is married and has 3 young children, the youngest is a little boy less than a year old. 6 weeks ago, Katie found out she had an aggressive form of colon cancer. She had surgery a few weeks ago and had been recovering but has taken a turn for the worse. As of yesterday, her organs had shut down and she is in a "Only a miracle could save her" state of being, per the words of the doctors.
That's a bend that makes me thankful for my own bend in the road.
But I'd be lying if I didn't also tell you confidently that Katie's bend is also a bend that God crafted. He doesn't only make good bends. He makes tragic bends too. Katie is a woman that oozes faith and hope and has made MANY people around her aware that God is God. And worthy to be praised. I feel strongly that Katie's bend is birthing new believers in Christ. And bringing Glory to Him. And, maybe, Katie's bend will include a miracle.
I AM thankful for my bend ahead. I am thankful for the One who built the road and the scenery, the rivers and the landscape. I am thankful for the family that God gave me to walk the road with. For for the best friend and leader my husband is, and the incredible blessings my kids are.
The End Of The Road Is But A Bend In The Road
by Helen Steiner Rice
When we feel we have nothing left to give
And we are sure that the "song has ended"--
When our day seems over and the shadows fall
And the darkness of night has descended,
Where can we go to find the strength
To valiantly keep on trying,
Where can we find the hand that will dry
The tears that the heart is crying--
There's but one place to go and that is to God
And, dropping all pretense and pride,
We can pour out our problem without restraint
And gain strength with Him at our side--
And together we stand at life's crossroads
And view what we think is the end,
But God has a much bigger vision
And he tells us it's only a bend--
For the road goes on and is smoother,
And the "pause in the song" is a "rest,"
And the part that's unsung and unfinished
Is the sweetest and richest and best--
So rest and relax and grow stronger,
Let go and let God share your load,
Your work is not finished or ended,
You've just come to "a bend in the road."
Saturday, March 22, 2008
The REAL excitement of Easter
Excitement. Suspense.
"Tomorrow's Easter!" 'Lil Sis said. "I get to wear my pretty pretty dress!" Which pretty much sums up Easter's meaning for her. Not much interest in the stories of Jesus or even Easter egg hunts or Easter baskets. Nope, it's all about the dress.
"I am excited to go to church. And for the Easter egg hunt" Big Sis one-upped her 'Lil Sis (who could care less).
I am excited for Easter, too. It's right up there in my top two favorite holidays. And, this year, it's going to be oh, so different from the typical "family gathering" holiday, with 20-30 people sitting around a ping pong table dressed out for an Easter meal at Great-Grandpa and Great-Grandma's house.
You see, I will be with a small group of family.
Sitting in an ICU waiting room.
Eating Kentucky Fried Chicken (Which IS open on Easter, in case anyone is wondering).
Visiting Great-Grandma, probably the feistiest fighter they have in that there ICU.
With joy and thanksgiving in my heart. For so many things. God keeps Grandma in His hand, breathing life into her. She is making baby steps forward, or should we call them gramma steps? Little by very little, she is improving. She is still listed in critical condition, going on 2 weeks. Fight, gramma, fight.
Last year on Easter, we were in the process of finding a new church home and I was a brand-new first time visitor at the church that morning. My hubby was playing at another church that day, so I brought 3 kids alone to a new church on the busiest church day of the year. I felt so so alone. A visitor. I missed our old church and the fellowship we had there. I was not in the "mood" to experience Easter. I was terrified of all the changes. Let's just say I was a wee bit fragile.
And THEN, they sang this song. I had never sung it before, and I was a total. wreck. Puddle on the floor. Here are the lyrics:
The Power of the Cross
Oh, to see the dawn
Of the darkest day:
Christ on the road to Calvary.
Tried by sinful men,
Torn and beaten, then
Nailed to a cross of wood.
CHORUS:
This, the pow'r of the cross:
Christ became sin for us;
Took the blame, bore the wrath—
We stand forgiven at the cross.
Oh, to see the pain
Written on Your face,
Bearing the awesome weight of sin.
Ev'ry bitter thought,
Ev'ry evil deed
Crowning Your bloodstained brow.
Now the daylight flees;
Now the ground beneath
Quakes as its Maker bows His head.
Curtain torn in two,
Dead are raised to life;
"Finished!" the vict'ry cry.
Oh, to see my name
Written in the wounds,
For through Your suffering I am free.
Death is crushed to death;
Life is mine to live,
Won through Your selfless love.
FINAL CHORUS:
This, the pow'r of the cross:
Son of God—slain for us.
What a love! What a cost!
We stand forgiven at the cross.
So so powerful, such amazing life changing lyrics. I can't sing it without crying. I can't get through it.
This, my sweet friends, is why I am excited for Easter this year. It is not about my pretty dress. It is not about Easter eggs or chocolate bunnies. It's not about where you spend it, who you're with, or what you eat.
It is about the power of the cross, and the power of the resurrection. This is the power by which Grandma is fighting, the power by which it is possible for Grandma to not fear death. This is the power by which even death can not defeat us, because Christ Himself defeated death.
How do I blog a shout? That's how I feel as I'm writing this.
Have a powerful, Christ-exalting Easter! He is Risen!
"Tomorrow's Easter!" 'Lil Sis said. "I get to wear my pretty pretty dress!" Which pretty much sums up Easter's meaning for her. Not much interest in the stories of Jesus or even Easter egg hunts or Easter baskets. Nope, it's all about the dress.
"I am excited to go to church. And for the Easter egg hunt" Big Sis one-upped her 'Lil Sis (who could care less).
I am excited for Easter, too. It's right up there in my top two favorite holidays. And, this year, it's going to be oh, so different from the typical "family gathering" holiday, with 20-30 people sitting around a ping pong table dressed out for an Easter meal at Great-Grandpa and Great-Grandma's house.
You see, I will be with a small group of family.
Sitting in an ICU waiting room.
Eating Kentucky Fried Chicken (Which IS open on Easter, in case anyone is wondering).
Visiting Great-Grandma, probably the feistiest fighter they have in that there ICU.
With joy and thanksgiving in my heart. For so many things. God keeps Grandma in His hand, breathing life into her. She is making baby steps forward, or should we call them gramma steps? Little by very little, she is improving. She is still listed in critical condition, going on 2 weeks. Fight, gramma, fight.
Last year on Easter, we were in the process of finding a new church home and I was a brand-new first time visitor at the church that morning. My hubby was playing at another church that day, so I brought 3 kids alone to a new church on the busiest church day of the year. I felt so so alone. A visitor. I missed our old church and the fellowship we had there. I was not in the "mood" to experience Easter. I was terrified of all the changes. Let's just say I was a wee bit fragile.
And THEN, they sang this song. I had never sung it before, and I was a total. wreck. Puddle on the floor. Here are the lyrics:
The Power of the Cross
Oh, to see the dawn
Of the darkest day:
Christ on the road to Calvary.
Tried by sinful men,
Torn and beaten, then
Nailed to a cross of wood.
CHORUS:
This, the pow'r of the cross:
Christ became sin for us;
Took the blame, bore the wrath—
We stand forgiven at the cross.
Oh, to see the pain
Written on Your face,
Bearing the awesome weight of sin.
Ev'ry bitter thought,
Ev'ry evil deed
Crowning Your bloodstained brow.
Now the daylight flees;
Now the ground beneath
Quakes as its Maker bows His head.
Curtain torn in two,
Dead are raised to life;
"Finished!" the vict'ry cry.
Oh, to see my name
Written in the wounds,
For through Your suffering I am free.
Death is crushed to death;
Life is mine to live,
Won through Your selfless love.
FINAL CHORUS:
This, the pow'r of the cross:
Son of God—slain for us.
What a love! What a cost!
We stand forgiven at the cross.
So so powerful, such amazing life changing lyrics. I can't sing it without crying. I can't get through it.
This, my sweet friends, is why I am excited for Easter this year. It is not about my pretty dress. It is not about Easter eggs or chocolate bunnies. It's not about where you spend it, who you're with, or what you eat.
It is about the power of the cross, and the power of the resurrection. This is the power by which Grandma is fighting, the power by which it is possible for Grandma to not fear death. This is the power by which even death can not defeat us, because Christ Himself defeated death.
How do I blog a shout? That's how I feel as I'm writing this.
Have a powerful, Christ-exalting Easter! He is Risen!
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Two basic rules of mama grace that are apparently not so basic
To mamas with children:
Please do NOT say to a woman who has no children yet but is struggling and wishes she was a mom, "You wouldn't understand what it's like to be a mom".
Please. Don't say that.
To pregnant mamas or mamas of only one child currently in the babe stage:
If you have not had to deal with discipline issues or really ANY independence issues whatsoever, and you have an idealistic view of parenting, do NOT say to a mom with multiple children, "I wouldn't do that. That's not the right way to do ____fill in the blank_____".
Please. Don't say that.
Every mama everywhere is changed by her own experiences raising children. We all have, and will continue, to make at least 102,687 mistakes in mothering. Every single day, I learn. Every single day, I make mistakes that make me a better mom tomorrow. I am a different woman and a different mom now than I was 5.5 years ago. hallelujah. And I will be different 5.5 years from now. HALLELUJAH!!! Can I hear an "Amen", sisters??!!
Boy, do I remember -
-seeing a child have a meltdown in the grocery store and having contempt for the mother that "can't control her child". Contempt. Oh, to be able to go hug that mama now and apologize for my attitude.
-puffing up my chest and thinking, "my child will never eat food from a jar!" Humph! (That's just hilarious now that I even ever thought that...)
-feeling secretly proud that MY child didn't watch videos like so-and-so's kids... at 1 year old she sits and looks at books quietly alone for hours on end. It must be because I don't show her videos... her little mind hasn't been tarnished. (little did I know, this behavior was NOT normal! This is a personality trait! My little second born was um.... NOT so easily amused!! Although, now that I think of it, by then, I WAS doing the unthinkable and allowing this mind tarnishing... so I could take a SHOWER. hmmm....)
or
-Complaining to a dear friend that I was going to have to bring my 6week old baby on a plane for a wedding, how much of a pain that was going to be... when she was going to the wedding, too... wishing, hoping, wanting a babe in her arms to show off...
Oh, the grief we can sow with our tongue.
And where does this tongue-lashing originate? Love? Uh, no. For me, it's pride. Or jealousy. It's icky, even to speak it. But my heart is filled with pride. I am beating it down constantly.
This is an excerpt from my pastor, John Piper's sermon last Sunday:
So the lesson for us is: Everywhere you see some growth, some virtue, some, spiritual discipline, some good habit, or good attitude, rejoice in it. Give thanks for it. Compliment it. Don’t resent it. Don’t be like Cain. Respond the opposite from Cain. Be inspired by other people’s goodness. Love is humble. Love delights in other people’s good. Love doesn’t protect its flaws. Love takes steps to change them. What a beautiful fellowship where everyone is rejoicing in each other’s strengths not resenting them!
The sentence in there that brings me to my knees is "Love doesn't protect its flaws". We need to be open and vulnerable with each other. Don't hide your flaws, mamas. Let's be real with each other so as to bring each other up. Let's be real with each other, excited for each other's virtues, growth, and habits that we wish we had.
And how do we do this, my bloggy friends? When the sin of pride is at our very core? We pray for the touch of the Holy Spirit to be on us, and for His love to flourish within our hearts.
Wow, who knew my rules of grace would get so serious! Should I change the title?
Please do NOT say to a woman who has no children yet but is struggling and wishes she was a mom, "You wouldn't understand what it's like to be a mom".
Please. Don't say that.
To pregnant mamas or mamas of only one child currently in the babe stage:
If you have not had to deal with discipline issues or really ANY independence issues whatsoever, and you have an idealistic view of parenting, do NOT say to a mom with multiple children, "I wouldn't do that. That's not the right way to do ____fill in the blank_____".
Please. Don't say that.
Every mama everywhere is changed by her own experiences raising children. We all have, and will continue, to make at least 102,687 mistakes in mothering. Every single day, I learn. Every single day, I make mistakes that make me a better mom tomorrow. I am a different woman and a different mom now than I was 5.5 years ago. hallelujah. And I will be different 5.5 years from now. HALLELUJAH!!! Can I hear an "Amen", sisters??!!
Boy, do I remember -
-seeing a child have a meltdown in the grocery store and having contempt for the mother that "can't control her child". Contempt. Oh, to be able to go hug that mama now and apologize for my attitude.
-puffing up my chest and thinking, "my child will never eat food from a jar!" Humph! (That's just hilarious now that I even ever thought that...)
-feeling secretly proud that MY child didn't watch videos like so-and-so's kids... at 1 year old she sits and looks at books quietly alone for hours on end. It must be because I don't show her videos... her little mind hasn't been tarnished. (little did I know, this behavior was NOT normal! This is a personality trait! My little second born was um.... NOT so easily amused!! Although, now that I think of it, by then, I WAS doing the unthinkable and allowing this mind tarnishing... so I could take a SHOWER. hmmm....)
or
-Complaining to a dear friend that I was going to have to bring my 6week old baby on a plane for a wedding, how much of a pain that was going to be... when she was going to the wedding, too... wishing, hoping, wanting a babe in her arms to show off...
Oh, the grief we can sow with our tongue.
And where does this tongue-lashing originate? Love? Uh, no. For me, it's pride. Or jealousy. It's icky, even to speak it. But my heart is filled with pride. I am beating it down constantly.
This is an excerpt from my pastor, John Piper's sermon last Sunday:
So the lesson for us is: Everywhere you see some growth, some virtue, some, spiritual discipline, some good habit, or good attitude, rejoice in it. Give thanks for it. Compliment it. Don’t resent it. Don’t be like Cain. Respond the opposite from Cain. Be inspired by other people’s goodness. Love is humble. Love delights in other people’s good. Love doesn’t protect its flaws. Love takes steps to change them. What a beautiful fellowship where everyone is rejoicing in each other’s strengths not resenting them!
The sentence in there that brings me to my knees is "Love doesn't protect its flaws". We need to be open and vulnerable with each other. Don't hide your flaws, mamas. Let's be real with each other so as to bring each other up. Let's be real with each other, excited for each other's virtues, growth, and habits that we wish we had.
And how do we do this, my bloggy friends? When the sin of pride is at our very core? We pray for the touch of the Holy Spirit to be on us, and for His love to flourish within our hearts.
Wow, who knew my rules of grace would get so serious! Should I change the title?
Monday, March 10, 2008
What do I say?
What do I say when a youth from a church-going family says, "I don't talk to God". I am speechless.
My heart is ripped in two as I talk with my student about God's grace. It is obvious this child has not been shown grace from the people in her life. She knows not of it's power. It means nothing to her.
Her family "looks good" on the outside, she says. Her parents "hold hands at church" but at home, biting, angry words are what define them. "They hate each other". Empty eyes stare at me. What do I say?
I can not fix this life. I can not undo years of mixed messages and confusion. This child does not see you when she says your Name. She does not hear your love when I say your Name.
One thing out of the mouth and another thing in action equals hypocrisy. Equals confusion.
May I gently, diligently, sincerely - and with humility... live a life that mirrors what I teach my children about you.
May I not let any words come from my lips that have not already erupted from my heart.
May I pray for this sweet child. Lord, give me words. Open her ears. Touch her heart.
My heart is ripped in two as I talk with my student about God's grace. It is obvious this child has not been shown grace from the people in her life. She knows not of it's power. It means nothing to her.
Her family "looks good" on the outside, she says. Her parents "hold hands at church" but at home, biting, angry words are what define them. "They hate each other". Empty eyes stare at me. What do I say?
Lord, give me words.
I can not fix this life. I can not undo years of mixed messages and confusion. This child does not see you when she says your Name. She does not hear your love when I say your Name.
Lord, open her ears.
One thing out of the mouth and another thing in action equals hypocrisy. Equals confusion.
Lord, touch her heart.
May I gently, diligently, sincerely - and with humility... live a life that mirrors what I teach my children about you.
May I not let any words come from my lips that have not already erupted from my heart.
May I pray for this sweet child. Lord, give me words. Open her ears. Touch her heart.
Lord, teach me, I pray.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Straight to the heart
This morning, we had baby dedications in our church. In my opinion, there is NOTHING like seeing babies being dedicated to the Lord. It does for my motherhood what going to a wedding does for my marriage. Gives me new fresh sparks, reminds me what a joy and pleasure children are. Always brings tears to my eyes. Always.
He said to them, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these." Mark 10:14
It always causes me to picture these little sweet, fresh babes as the future leaders. Future lovers of Jesus. Open, teachable, ready to believe, love, and trust. Gives me goooosebumps! Why is it that I can't always see my own children in that light?
Ava is going through an illness. An illness that strikes all 3 year olds, I know Corene went through it, but I had blessed amnesia about it until a few weeks ago when I started seeing symptoms in Ava. It's called "little liar" syndrome. The symptoms sound something like this:
Ava: (calling me during quiet time when she's not supposed to be talking) Mommy? Mommy!
Me: (walking in the room) What is it, Ava?
Ava: I didn't call you. It was Corene.
Me: (speechless)
Corene: (silent)
Ava: I'm bored.
Me: Ava, you're not supposed to be talking.
Ava: I'm not talking! It's Corene!
Me: Who said "I'm bored"? (I watched her mouth move, mind you)
Ava: Corene. Corene did, Mommy.
Aye. de. mi. I will spare you the details of the events that followed.
So, at this point, I'm not visualizing my daughter as a future leader. I'm visualizing her as a future drug dealer.
One of our pastors gave an amazing "mini sermon" on this passage in Mark as part of the baby dedication. May I summarize and ponder a bit on it?
Read that verse again. Imagine in your mind what Jesus sounded like when he said it. Imagine his tone of voice and his countenance:
He said to them, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these." Mark 10:14
Warm? Fuzzy? Sweet? That's what I think of.
Now, let's look at it in the context of the verses around it:
13People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. 14When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. 15I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it." 16And he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them.
Notice that little word indignant? Synonyms are angry, resentful, infuriated, mad. Not warm. Not fuzzy. Not sweet. Y'all, the Son of God was ticked off. He was indignant at the disciples for "putting off" the children. They were only trying to help. They were trying to make things go smoothly for Jesus.
In my human understanding, I can understand how Jesus would need to remind the disciples that the children are important, and encourage the disciples to let the children come to Him. But why was he angry? There must be something more to it than meets the human eye. Jesus isn't known for being angry often in his life, and the few times we read of him being angry, it's for very good reason. Merchants in the temple, defiling a Holy place. Pharisees that are trying to trick Him into saying something worthy of rebuke. Satan himself trying to tempt Him. Disciples trying to keep the peace in the crowds around Jesus?
Could it be that the way God sees children is completely and utterly different than the way we see them? God sees them as the model for how we must be as people in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven(vs15). They are the future leaders, but more importantly, also the present models of simple faith, open, teachable, ready to believe, love, and trust.
Ding ding ding. Light bulb moment. This morning in my service, the Lord lavished upon me but a glimpse, a glimmer, of how He sees His children. I WANT to understand this! I want to see it more. OK, truth be told, I really don't. It's foreign. It's mysterious. It's Divine. My glimpse has given me a hunger for knowing Him more. And, all the more, I want to train up my children in the way they should go, I want to utilize these times of softenss and teachability. I want to learn from them as I teach them and watch them grow. It's inspiring, and it's a wake-up call.
Let them come, do not hinder them! These are the children!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Lessons from Daniel
My girls' favorite Bible story is Daniel and the Lions' Den(Daniel 6). We've read it countless times. There's something about the heroic nature of the story, that draws them to it. When Darius runs to the den "in haste" the next morning to see if Daniel is still alive, it's so amazing and cute to see my daughters tense up, in anticipation, to "see" if Daniel is alive! The story is new to them each time we read it!
This morning, I discovered an old (OLD) story Bible from my husband's childhood (it was even old when he was young!), so we read, of course, Daniel and the Lions' Den. It had a little different wording than we were used to reading. One thing stood out more clearly the way this was written: Daniel usually prayed 3 times a day, in his upper chamber, with the windows open. That's what he did every day. Then, after the King issued the decree saying you could not pray to anyone except him, it's very clear that he continued to pray, 3 times a day, in his upper chamber, with the windows open. He didn't change a thing.
So, we're reading along, and Corene stops me and says, "Why did he do that? Why didn't he go pray someplace in secret instead, since it was the law?" Hmmm... good question. He could have kept his prayers a secret - if I was him I think I might have done just that. That would seem the logical thing to do. There are many Christians today that live in places where the Church is persecuted, and they must pray and meet in secret. And if you look throughout the Bible, there are many many instances where people ran and hid when the government or those in power were chasing them. Mary and Joseph were told by an angel in a dream to take Jesus in the night and flee to Egypt. God could have chosen to provided a miracle to protect them. But that wasn't His plan.
So, Why did he do that? Why didn't he close his windows? The king, Darius, and the people wouldn't have been able to see what a great God Daniel's god was. There would be no story for us to marvel at. God wanted himself to get the Glory. And it didn't stop there, each time we read the story in the Word, we marvel yet again (each and every time!) and glorify Him! "Woohoo!! Go GOD!" is usually what comes out of my mouth. :)
This made me start to think, how did Daniel know he was to keep praying as he had been? The text does not say, it just says he did it. So I whipped out my Bible and I read the whole story again, and something in the story popped out at me: verse 23 says "So Daniel was taken up out of the den, and no kind of harm was found on him, because he had trusted in his God." Daniel was a steadfast servant of the King of Kings, and he had the Spirit of God on him throughout his life. God had been revealing dreams and other secrets to him, so the power of God was something he was familiar with. Daniel did not begin trusting God in the den of lions, he had been in communion with God for years, his whole life.
I need to be in communion with God now. For Daniel it had been 3 times a day, he got down on his knees and prayed and worshipped. For me, it's likely to look a little different! But it's going to be purposeful, not haphazard. It's going to be focused, not distracted. And it's going to be filled with faith and hope in the living God, not whiney or me-centered.
I struggle with this! My time with God occasionally looks that way, but it's more often haphazard, distracted, and me-centered. I desire to have the foundation of faith that would allow me to open my windows toward Jerusalem, kneel and pray to God, just as I had done before.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Love
'Tis the day of love. It's fun. We have hearts and roses and CANDY and pink and red in various places scattered about our house. It's a day where we're purposeful about telling each other "I love you". It's a day where we're inspired to cut out construction paper into cutsie little hearts and write "To Grambie Love Corene" on them. It's a day where we indulge in chocolate and candy to our heart's content. Dark chocolate Ghiradelli squares with raspberry filling, to be specific. Did I mention to my heart's content? Anyways, ummm, it's a delicious day.
But, c'mon! The day of LOVE? I have to get serious and really examine what in the world hearts, flowers, and chocolate have to do with love. OK, stop, I need to rephrase that. What in the world do hearts and flowers have to do with love? It is painfully obvious what CHOCOLATE has to do with love!!
It's so commercialized, isn't it? Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking Valentine's day. I love Valentine's day, with all of it's fluff and fun. But I had to start thinking when I saw the look on one of my flute student's faces today when I said, "Happy Valentine's day!" She looked up at me and said, "Yeah, whatever. Valentine's day is so depressing when I don't have a boyfriend." Or when my friend told me, "I wish my husband would think about Valentine's day before 9am ON Valentine's day". I resonated with both of those comments. Yeah, depressing when you don't have a Valentine. Yeah, disappointing when your hubby doesn't put the time/thought into Valentine's day. For a lot of people, Valentine's day breeds more feelings of longing or emptiness than it does warm-fuzzies and contentment.
There's human love and then there's Divine Love. Even the very best of all human love leaves something to be desired when you compare it to the Love of God:
"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13
"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:8
As wonderful as marriage and children and dear friends and family and brothers and sisters in Christ are, it pales in comparison to Christ's love. It actually draws us to the Cross, or it should. It leaves us longing for more. For a more perfect love. The love of Jesus.
Could it be, that this is by design? We are left feeling just a bit empty on a day that is about love. On a day that the world says will fill you up.
"Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you." Psalm 63:3
May this be my prayer, and may I really believe it.
Jenny
But, c'mon! The day of LOVE? I have to get serious and really examine what in the world hearts, flowers, and chocolate have to do with love. OK, stop, I need to rephrase that. What in the world do hearts and flowers have to do with love? It is painfully obvious what CHOCOLATE has to do with love!!
It's so commercialized, isn't it? Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking Valentine's day. I love Valentine's day, with all of it's fluff and fun. But I had to start thinking when I saw the look on one of my flute student's faces today when I said, "Happy Valentine's day!" She looked up at me and said, "Yeah, whatever. Valentine's day is so depressing when I don't have a boyfriend." Or when my friend told me, "I wish my husband would think about Valentine's day before 9am ON Valentine's day". I resonated with both of those comments. Yeah, depressing when you don't have a Valentine. Yeah, disappointing when your hubby doesn't put the time/thought into Valentine's day. For a lot of people, Valentine's day breeds more feelings of longing or emptiness than it does warm-fuzzies and contentment.
There's human love and then there's Divine Love. Even the very best of all human love leaves something to be desired when you compare it to the Love of God:
"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13
"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:8
As wonderful as marriage and children and dear friends and family and brothers and sisters in Christ are, it pales in comparison to Christ's love. It actually draws us to the Cross, or it should. It leaves us longing for more. For a more perfect love. The love of Jesus.
Could it be, that this is by design? We are left feeling just a bit empty on a day that is about love. On a day that the world says will fill you up.
"Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you." Psalm 63:3
May this be my prayer, and may I really believe it.
Jenny
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Become like little children
Funny how God uses our parenting to refine us. I've known for as long as I've been a mom that Motherhood ain't for wimps. How many times have I had to reach deep down into the carpet bag of my soul and pull out that patience that I didn't know existed so that I can answer the 43rd "Mommy" of the hour with love? The Holy Spirit put that patience there, I know it. And how many times has my selfishness been put to the test, when, for the 8th time in one sleep cycle did I have to drag myself out of bed and plod down the hall to comfort an uncomfortable baby. Or how about when I don't even look for patience or seflessness, and I snap irritably at my child? My humility is refined when I must look 2 big, brown, hurt eyes straight on and say "I'm sorry".
I'm adding another area of refinement to my understanding. My daughter Corene is a little bundle of 5 years old. She has been a lover of Jesus for just about 1 month, and she has spiritual sensitivity that brought me to my knees tonight. She has a spark about the things of God that is so refreshing!
Tonight we read in Revelation about Jesus coming back "soon". I knew we were probably opening up 20 questions of eschatology, but we had time so I dove in. After fielding the "What about Max (our cat)?" questions, we started talking about people who don't know Jesus, how they won't be able to come with us to heaven. The Holy Spirit obviously was working in BOTH of our hearts as we prayed, talked, and cried.
Here is what amazed me as I talked with her: This is the "main thing" of life. The main feelings we were wading through was a longing for the people we love to know Jesus. My heart aches as I write this, thinking of the names we prayed for. My heart truly aches for the first time in a long time. Sure, I've prayed for these people. Their names are written on my prayer list in my organizer. But when have I ached for them? When have I truly believed that God could save them?
It took a child, with simple faith, to remind me what the "main thing" is.
"I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:3
Refine me, Lord. I am your clay.
Jenny
I'm adding another area of refinement to my understanding. My daughter Corene is a little bundle of 5 years old. She has been a lover of Jesus for just about 1 month, and she has spiritual sensitivity that brought me to my knees tonight. She has a spark about the things of God that is so refreshing!
Tonight we read in Revelation about Jesus coming back "soon". I knew we were probably opening up 20 questions of eschatology, but we had time so I dove in. After fielding the "What about Max (our cat)?" questions, we started talking about people who don't know Jesus, how they won't be able to come with us to heaven. The Holy Spirit obviously was working in BOTH of our hearts as we prayed, talked, and cried.
Here is what amazed me as I talked with her: This is the "main thing" of life. The main feelings we were wading through was a longing for the people we love to know Jesus. My heart aches as I write this, thinking of the names we prayed for. My heart truly aches for the first time in a long time. Sure, I've prayed for these people. Their names are written on my prayer list in my organizer. But when have I ached for them? When have I truly believed that God could save them?
It took a child, with simple faith, to remind me what the "main thing" is.
"I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:3
Refine me, Lord. I am your clay.
Jenny
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