tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7651217917139601032024-03-13T22:51:29.021-04:00Pure JoyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.comBlogger120125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-13690089366509212212013-05-15T12:38:00.003-04:002013-05-15T12:49:01.640-04:00Piano RecitalWhile waiting to get the time (and energy!) to actually write a new post, we've been busy with play rehearsals, piano recitals, a visit from Grandma, and trying to wrap up our school year. Jim, Rebekah, Noel, and Anna are all in a local production of <i>Annie</i>, but I haven't been able to get any good pics, as my camera can't do well in a dark theater with no flash. But Anna, Noel, and Elijah had their piano recital (Anna's first one!), and here it is. :)<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/65967687?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" width="500" height="281" frameborder="0" webkitAllowFullScreen mozallowfullscreen allowFullScreen></iframe>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-73004639073795160262013-04-30T19:24:00.001-04:002013-04-30T19:24:11.128-04:00Day 30I'm still here, and I did not quit. But blog posts will just have to wait until I can get some more sleep. Which I hope is very soon.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-61992339838023406992013-04-25T16:46:00.002-04:002013-04-25T17:52:14.525-04:00Day 25 Whispering "Thank you"<i>(After posting what I wrote below, I realized that I'd already posted a week or so ago about this insomnia thing, but I suppose if God isn't done teaching me through it, it's okay to write about it again. Besides which, I read recently that insomnia can actually lower a person's IQ. In that case, I can't really be expected to remember what I've already written, right?) </i> :)<br />
<br />
So the last couple of weeks have been rough. It's seems rather ironic that I would be suffering with this bout of insomnia in the midst of this "fast." Over the last few days, though, I've wondered if this might be the <i>best</i> time for some sleepless nights. I was thinking this morning about the years before Rebekah was born when we struggled with infertility. Some of my most intimate moments with God were during those times...moments when I had to learn to trust Him with everything. Trust that whatever He had for me was better than what I was planning out for myself. Trust that He was enough...more than enough...to satisfy. I remember being so thankful that <i>before</i> we ever had a baby, I had reached the point of accepting that we never would, and finding peace in that because I knew that He was in control. I also remember coming to believe that the infertility was a gift...something that He used to shape and mold me...to sanctify and bless me...in ways might not be possible without trials and tears. Accepting that maybe the infertility was His choice for me. The best choice, not a curse. I admit, it's easy for me to say those words since our struggle with infertility ended as it did, with not one but four precious babes born from my womb. But as I said, I did come to those terms before the babies came.<br />
<br />
So now I'm wondering if insomnia is what I need to sanctify me in this journey. To force me to keep my eyes on Him and rely on His strength...like I said I would when I started this fast. Because I promise you that with the amount of sleep I've been getting I would never make it through breakfast, let alone a whole day, without lashing out with my tongue. Historically I've been reduced to a complete mess when insomnia has settled in for a long visit. But this time it's been different. Somehow it has only served to focus me. To make me more aware of my tendency to snap or criticize, and to be more on guard against it. I have to be honest, I've had some lapses. This morning, for instance, when Anna (for reasons I could not imagine), snatched my coffee cup off of the kitchen table and swung it above her head. Splashing coffee all over the table. Which was covered with books, school papers, etc. (She said she thought the cup was empty). I'll leave my response up to your imagination, but it wasn't what I wish it had been. However, it was a whole lot better than what it might have been, or perhaps would have been a few weeks ago. The thing that has amazed me is that for most of the many weary days over the last weeks, I haven't <i>felt</i> like snapping. I have felt a level of patience and tolerance that is unusual for me even at my best. That's how I know that it's not me. I've been so aware of God's presence and help that I have found myself thanking Him for the insomnia. I said at the start of this that my greatest desire was for more of Him...even primary to my desire to conquer my sharp tongue and critical spirit. I know that drawing closer to Him is really the only way to be transformed. And whatever He uses to demonstrate His love for me, and my need for Him, is all good.<br />
<br />
So I've been saying "thank you" a lot. Every time I am in the midst of a situation in which I know full well I would normally criticize or snap...and I don't. Every time sweet, loving, encouraging words come out of my mouth. Every time I don't feel angry, irritable, or impatient. It's all Him. And I'm whispering "Thank you, Jesus" right out loud. And the kids look at me funny, and I don't even explain it to them, but I'm still glad they hear me saying it. Thanks to Him for every good or right thing I do...it's all Him. Thanks for every sharp word or unnecessary criticism that I don't say...it was His spirit holding them back. And, okay, thanks for insomnia. I can't promise I'll say it tomorrow, but I'll say it today (though I'd still be more than glad to sleep, and glad for any prayers along those lines).<br />
<br />
**In the interest of full disclosure, I wrote the above post earlier today, but just now went to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription sleep aid. It was generic. It cost $50...after insurance. It's entirely possible that I could lose sleep over spending $50 on a prescription. <br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-51838949511133196592013-04-23T22:52:00.000-04:002013-04-23T22:52:12.458-04:00Day 23For the past 2 to 3 weeks, I've been dealing with grueling insomnia. I'm getting bleary...can't even remember if I've already blogged about insomnia at some point during the last couple of weeks. This is a struggle I've had off and on for the last 10 years or so, but fortunately I'd been sleeping really well for months...until now. I'm finding it hard to keep up with everything, so blogging just hasn't made the list. I'm hopeful that I'll be able to write soon about more that I've been learning over the last week or so, but in the meantime, thought I'd post a couple of pictures from our time at the beach.<br />
<br />
Blessings!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mIDUSq5DHRk/UXdGM4vM0nI/AAAAAAAAADw/FKIPXYFaH64/s1600/DSC_1119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mIDUSq5DHRk/UXdGM4vM0nI/AAAAAAAAADw/FKIPXYFaH64/s640/DSC_1119.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ImO7r_oGmKk/UXdGHz7PaMI/AAAAAAAAADo/8LcXVWAf3z4/s1600/DSC_1544_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="420" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ImO7r_oGmKk/UXdGHz7PaMI/AAAAAAAAADo/8LcXVWAf3z4/s640/DSC_1544_2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ynvvIBBYed0/UXdHFFcTNqI/AAAAAAAAAEI/HK_JF4opc1c/s1600/DSC_1572.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ynvvIBBYed0/UXdHFFcTNqI/AAAAAAAAAEI/HK_JF4opc1c/s640/DSC_1572.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bno_6dnjO24/UXdG7hgZ1AI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Ag7Gd1G5H5M/s1600/DSC_1807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bno_6dnjO24/UXdG7hgZ1AI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Ag7Gd1G5H5M/s640/DSC_1807.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xtE6C8Fuy9A/UXdGvPsN-cI/AAAAAAAAAD4/1Q1sXN3Z2aA/s1600/DSC_1840+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xtE6C8Fuy9A/UXdGvPsN-cI/AAAAAAAAAD4/1Q1sXN3Z2aA/s640/DSC_1840+-+Version+2.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DBJoqklQx2E/UXdHJmfRg-I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/QxKTniGmGNQ/s1600/DSC_1973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DBJoqklQx2E/UXdHJmfRg-I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/QxKTniGmGNQ/s640/DSC_1973.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--kyL4M0sljE/UXdH8fRfvVI/AAAAAAAAAEg/lcGmeArlq-g/s1600/DSC_2311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--kyL4M0sljE/UXdH8fRfvVI/AAAAAAAAAEg/lcGmeArlq-g/s640/DSC_2311.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WmXce22lfSQ/UXdHyv-lUMI/AAAAAAAAAEY/w8mx0o2I28E/s1600/DSC_2333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WmXce22lfSQ/UXdHyv-lUMI/AAAAAAAAAEY/w8mx0o2I28E/s640/DSC_2333.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-12525682764254741492013-04-16T22:09:00.000-04:002013-04-16T22:09:37.507-04:00Day 16I haven't been finding the time to write, and I'm missing it. Flannery O'Connor said, "I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say." I honestly think this is somewhat true of me. I process better when I talk...or write...about what I'm thinking. And it flat out keeps me accountable, particularly when I'm writing in a public place like this. <br />
<br />
But...I'm going to the beach tomorrow. Taking the children, without Jim (it's a very busy time of year for him at work), just for a few days. I'm really, really looking forward to spending some concentrated time with them away from school work and housework. <br />
<br />
For anyone who reads this, I am just going to come right out and ask you to pray for me. As soon as you finish reading this paragraph. Pray the the Lord will bless our trip, and continue His work in my heart and with my tongue. I need the prayers....I need the help. And I always need more of Him.<br />
<br />
Thanks! Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-82728542867631515712013-04-16T08:07:00.002-04:002013-04-16T08:07:25.286-04:00We Interrupt This Message for....A post on the lighter side! The floor re-finishing project has left the house a wreck for a couple of weeks. I really struggle sometimes to conquer the "tyranny of the urgent"...the desire to stop everything and battle the current mess, for instance. I am so tempted to even stop doing schoolwork in order to put the house in order. I've been trying to resist the temptation, and to remind myself that I want to "make the days count". So the house is still a mess. But on Sunday afternoon I played. I played with the kids, and I played with my camera. I played "Set" (a card game), jumped on the trampoline, "ooohed" and "aaahed" over frogs and tadpoles caught in the creek, and captured a lot of it on film. And I can honestly say that the messy house felt a little less...disturbing. God really does change hearts, and I am overwhelmed at His capacity to do new things in me. :) <br />
<br />
So here's some photographic evidence of the day. I know, I know; I'm not in any of the pictures. Next time I'll turn the camera over to Rebekah while I'm jumping on the trampoline.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4aeP-Nsqb4/UW093Z0C8qI/AAAAAAAAAC4/_I8tqWd1sGE/s1600/April+blog+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4aeP-Nsqb4/UW093Z0C8qI/AAAAAAAAAC4/_I8tqWd1sGE/s640/April+blog+1.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lGhvtADi0OU/UW095aXWR0I/AAAAAAAAADA/cw2yG9rgM50/s1600/April+blog+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lGhvtADi0OU/UW095aXWR0I/AAAAAAAAADA/cw2yG9rgM50/s640/April+blog+6.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dTsFuuT_KRs/UW096Qg_QZI/AAAAAAAAADI/b2_m_JCZovk/s1600/April+blog+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dTsFuuT_KRs/UW096Qg_QZI/AAAAAAAAADI/b2_m_JCZovk/s640/April+blog+2.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QQvt5wzZ0n4/UW097MyGahI/AAAAAAAAADQ/yS--x2VnkSA/s1600/April+blog+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QQvt5wzZ0n4/UW097MyGahI/AAAAAAAAADQ/yS--x2VnkSA/s640/April+blog+3.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_nOYOCwVSqw/UW099IyaAkI/AAAAAAAAADY/4dflbh_JITg/s1600/April+blog+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_nOYOCwVSqw/UW099IyaAkI/AAAAAAAAADY/4dflbh_JITg/s640/April+blog+5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-30428770363599657372013-04-15T21:17:00.002-04:002013-04-15T21:17:22.233-04:00Day 15...Tired.I'm still here, and still "fasting" (or trying to). Today marks the half way point. I have a half-written post from Day 10 which I'll try to finish tomorrow...but I'm just really tired. Been battling with insomnia for the past week or so, and it's catching up with me. I've had trouble with insomnia off and on for years, but I've been blessed with several months of good sleeping...until now. <br />
<br />
But here's the surprising thing. Usually when I'm sleep deprived, my tongue is at it's sharpest. Lack of sleep seems to feed every bad tendency...it heightens irritability and depression, lowers self-control, and fogs the mind. I'll admit I'm feeling quite foggy, but I am honestly just humbled by the fact that <i>I have not felt irritable or edgy with the children (or Jim).</i> I've had a couple of moments when I had to ask them to cut back on the decibels a bit while they were playing. But overall I have just felt...patient. I am willing to say that this is miraculous. I feel as if the Lord is carrying me, almost...above all of it somehow. That He is blessing my desire to please him and to bless my family. I'm feeling deeply thankful and very, very much aware of how much I am dependent on His strength. Within the first few days of this "fast", I was listening to a recording of Noel Piper, talking about Sarah Edwards. Sarah was Jonathan Edwards wife, and I love reading/hearing about her. Noel Piper was recounting a story about a time in Sarah Edward's life when she had a particularly intense encounter with the Lord, which seemed to be life-changing for her. It was in the midst of a very difficult time in her life, and Noel Piper shared that the story reminded her of the lyrics of a song...which happens to be one of my very favorite songs. I've pasted the lyrics below, because they have seemed to be the theme of my last two weeks. I cannot read the words without tears, and they are especially meaningful to me now after the last many nights without sleep. If the Lord has brought this insomnia on...I'll welcome more. It has caused me to recognize more deeply than ever that He is with me...He loves me...He desires good for me. Perhaps I might have convinced myself that I could harness my tongue and change my life on my own strength. Tonight I am gratefully unable to do that...because I know that it is only the Lord who has kept me from falling over recent days. I'm going to sleep (or at least to bed!) with these words tonight: <br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Jesus I am resting, resting</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>In the Joy of what Thou art;</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>I am finding out the greatness</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Of Thy loving heart.</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>And Thy beauty fills my soul,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>For by Thy transforming power</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Thou hast made me whole.</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Jesus, I am resting, resting</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>In the joy of what Thou art;</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>I am finding out the greatness</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Of Thy loving heart.</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>O how great Thy loving kindness.</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Vaster, broader than the sea!</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>O how marvellous Thy goodness,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Lavished all on me!</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Yes, I rest in Thee, Beloved,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Know Thy certainty of promise,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>And have made it mine.</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Simply trusting Thee, Lord Jesus,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>I behold Thee as Thou art,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>And Thy love, so pure, so changeless,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Satisfies my heart;</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Satisfies its deepest longings,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Meets supplies its every need,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Compasseth me round with blessings;</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Thine is love indeed!</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Ever lift Thy face upon me,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>As I work and wait for Thee;</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Resting 'neath Thy smile, Lord Jesus,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Earth's dark shadows flee.</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Brightness of my Father's glory,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Sunshine of my Father's face,</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Keep me ever trusting, resting;</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i>Fill me with Thy grace.</i></div>
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Sorry if this is less than coherent. Blessings. :)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-24127323154843720742013-04-09T21:27:00.002-04:002013-04-09T21:27:05.747-04:00Day 9. My mouth has motor memory.So spring break is over. But it wasn't really a break, because the house was torn up, floors being sanded, dust everywhere, cold outside, had to cancel a trip to the beach, and three people got stomach bugs (and then that whole <i>birthday</i> thing). Still, it's always just nice to have a break from the normal routine, and I did enjoy that. I had some trepidation going into Monday, though. I knew that I was already a bit...testy. From the sanding, the mess, the sickness, and just generally not accomplishing what I felt I needed to in order to start back to school well. Besides which, I know myself. I knew that getting back into the routine was likely to be a huge challenge to my fast. It's usually trying to manage all of the normal events of the long strings of "normal" days that drives me to control freakishness. There's usually too much to fit into the day, and I'm trying to make it work anyway, often running over the little (and not so little) people who don't keep up with the plan. <br />
<br />
It's not who I want to be. I know that it's not who God wants me to be. Because He calls me to holiness, but also because I'm missing out on delighting in all of the good gifts He has given me.<br />
<br />
So back to the week after spring break. I learned yet another new thing about myself over the last two days. My mouth has motor memory. I must have dozens...maybe hundreds...of little lectures stored up in my brain. They cover an enormous range of transgressions, large and small. Someone didn't get his chores done before breakfast? Got it. Didn't clear the dishes/wipe up a spill/put away a toy or game or book? Got that covered too. Working too slowly on schoolwork? I've got half-a-dozen lectures ready for that one. And on, and on, and on it goes. The alarming part, though, is that I discovered today that all of those lectures are just waiting there for an event to trigger them, and they are practically jumping out of my mouth before I knew they were coming! I'm not kidding...over the past two days I've just kept hearing this voice from my past...okay, I just wish it were from my past...correcting and criticizing just like always. I'm likening it to the way your fingers can type certain words seemingly on their own. Or your feet just start pedaling when you climb onto a bike. Unfortunately, my "mouth memory" doesn't serve such a useful purpose as those other forms of motor memory. I am trying to look at the bright side, though. Maybe if, God willing, I am able to really win my own personal little "war of words", my mouth will start remembering new phrases. Wouldn't it be great it I started spouting, "Hi honey, how was your day? You look tired; sit down and let me get you the newspaper," without even thinking about it? Or how about, "Great job, guys...you sure did work hard at getting your rooms cleaned up." Or better still, "I love you. I think you're great. You make me smile. You make me so happy. I'm so thankful God made me your mom."<br />
<br />
Even when I can't offer up praise and really do need to correct someone (at least after these 30 days), there are so many positive, patient, grace-filled ways to do that without lecturing and tearing down. ("...<i>only what is useful for building others up, according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."</i>) <br />
<br />
So here's to "motor memory" of the mouth. I'm counting on it. Tomorrow is a new day...and I'm going to start plugging some new phrases into our old routines. Yes, I am frustrated with myself. I want to be "there" <i>right now</i>. But I am believing God's promise that He will be faithful to complete the work that He has begun. I started the day feeling pretty discouraged, but I'm going to bed hopeful. Even though I've blogged about a lot of failures over the last week or so (and those are what we generally focus on, right?), I'm also glimpsing some signs that "the times, they are a-changin'". More about that later, though. On to day 10!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-52827090059948429892013-04-07T22:09:00.000-04:002013-04-07T22:09:08.193-04:00Day 7 Lessons Learned (well...learning).I couldn't get anything written yesterday, but had several thoughts to share from the past few days.<br />
<br />
1). I wrote in the first "31 Day Fast" post that my harsh words and critical spirit were a manifestation of fear. I've also realized that another facet of that involves unmet expectations. I think that I have built up a whole shaky foundation (a "house on sandy land") based on the idea that I can plan everything out, and if only my plans work (and my expectations are met), everything will be just fine. If my expectations aren't met, I do believe that my gut reaction is often rooted in fear, even though it looks like anger and frustration. My birthday was a glaring example of this. The expectation is that my family (particularly my husband) will recognize my birthday in the ways that are meaningful to me. The fear (if my expectations aren't met) is that I am not worthy. If I were a really wonderful wife and mother, then my family would just gush and pour love out all over me on my birthday. Crazy. Of course, there are plenty of times when my criticism and harsh words are rooted in just plain selfishness (there's no fear involved when I walk into a room and see that someone hasn't cleaned up their toys for the tenth time that day, or when the children are all playing loudly (even though it's <i>happy</i> loudness), and I just want some peace and quiet, for instance). The bottom line is that the criticism and harsh words are just not okay, no matter what their source, but I am finding that it's helpful to understand where they are coming from.<br />
<br />
2). My view of God plays a huge role in my capacity to exhibit grace. And my view of God has been inaccurate. I have always had trouble understanding God as a loving Father. I have long battled a picture of God as a father who is harsh and impossible to please, watching and waiting to catch me making a wrong choice, or failing in some way that I might not even understand. Over the years, He has been changing my understanding...revealing more of His true character to me. And as I've learned more about who He really is, I have desired more and more of Him. Over the last few days, though, I realized that my long years of viewing Him wrongly have still been impacting me in the way I relate to my children. I have put myself in the place in which I long believed Him to be...constantly watching and waiting for the children to "mess up" in some way, so that I could jump in and correct them. I know what a dangerous practice this is for them. I know that the result of this kind of parenting is for them to develop an image of God that mirrors the one I long held. As their earthly parents, we have such a huge influence on their understanding of God as their Father. I know that I have a responsibility to teach them obedience. To impart an understanding of truth, and of God's holiness. But I also have a tremendous burden to give them a picture of grace. I happened to hear a perfect quote on the radio yesterday as I was mulling this over. I don't even know who the speaker was on the Christian radio station, but I had just turned it on in the car when I heard this:<br />
<br />
<i>Truth without grace is brutality.</i><br />
<i>Grace without truth is hypocrisy.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I have lived as a victim of truth without grace. I have leaned way too far on this side of the balance as a mom. I'm so thankful that my Father has given me a different image, and I am longing to help my children to know a God of truth <i>and </i> grace. <br />
<br />
3). The whole big picture (struggling to deal with unmet expectations, and growing in my understanding of God's love and grace for me) leads me to a deep desire to look at my husband and children differently, and to respond to them differently. I have a perfect illustration of this, and it goes back to the whole birthday fiasco. There's a piece of the birthday story that I didn't share. It's about cake. Remember the issue with unmet expectations? Well, in my "birthday language", a birthday requires a cake. It's actually been a running joke in my family for years. Jim and Elijah prefer pie for their birthdays. <i>Pie!!</i> We pretend to fight about it at their birthdays every year. I always make them pie, but I always make it clear that cake is...well...better. Right. Pie is just...wrong. :) Early in our marriage, when I realized that birthdays are just not a big deal to Jim, I made it easy. I told him that I really like to have a birthday cake. I told him what <i>kind</i> of cake I like (chocolate, with raspberry filling), and I told him where to get it. Done, right? So generally there has been a cake for my birthday. This year, remember, he was refinishing the floors. He was sick. I knew he couldn't have remembered to get a cake. But while I was out doing some errands the morning of my birthday, he went out to a store near our house. I got home first, and saw him carrying in the big bag. And out of the bag he pulled...<i>a pie</i>. He pulled out the pie, looked at me, and said, "I got you a Key Lime Pie." I looked at the pie, looked back and him, and said (through gritted teeth), "Yes, you did." Unfortunately for him (I hate to admit how glad I was, though), a friend had invited me for tea on my birthday, and had served...you guessed it...chocolate cake with raspberries. She had asked Rebekah what kind of cake I like. I came home with the leftover cake from the tea, and it's not my fault that Jim asked me what was in the box, right? And what else could I tell him but the truth? Yes, I was petty and selfish. I was angry and hurt because....my expectations had not been met. I told the whole story to a friend today, and teared up from laughing about how silly it was. How could I have behaved that way? (I did tell Jim I was sorry the next day...but I also asked him if he seriously didn't hear any alarms going off when he read the words "Key Lime PIE").<br />
<br />
But now here's the lesson learned. I had been figuring this out over the past few days, but the sermon at church this morning brought it all together for me. God calls us to holiness. He has the <i>right</i> to call us to holiness, because he is holy. But we fail. And He loves us anyway. In fact, because of His great love for us, He sent His Son to <i>die</i> for our transgressions; in order that we might be called His sons and daughters. My best efforts to please Him fall short. My best gifts to Him are like filthy rags. And yet He shows grace to me, and looks on me with love. He delights to give me good gifts...when I have nothing to give. <br />
<br />
I, on the other hand, am not holy. Yet I hold my husband (and children...and sometimes others, too), to a standard which I myself cannot attain. I have no <i>right</i> to hold them to this standard when I fall short of it myself. And yet when they fail, I am quick to criticize and blame. I do not treat them lovingly. Even when they strive to please me, I sometimes view their efforts as falling short. I fail to show grace. I generally recognize my mistake afterward, repent, and try to repair. But a pattern of this kind of critical, difficult to please behavior in a relationship is toxic. My husband bought me a pie. I wanted a cake. <i>Seriously?!?</i> His desire was to please me (someone out there is wondering how he could've thought a pie would please me, but trust me...he truly did. It was Key Lime, after all). Why could I not accept this offering of love with grace? I pray that I will learn to do so. I think that's part of the reason why I decided to include the pie story here. At first (on my birthday), I didn't write it because I didn't want to discredit my husband. But when I thought about it honestly, I can only discredit myself when I share this, and hopefully become even more convicted. (I do hope somehow got a good laugh out of that whole story though...I know that someone out there can relate...right?) <br />
<br />
<br />
I'm going to end with more words of wisdom from Paul David Tripp This is from <i>War of Words</i> again, and is a description of the four principles on which the book is based:<br />
<br />
- God has a wonderful plan for our words that is far better than any plan we could come up with on <br />
our own.<br />
<br />
- Sin has radically altered our agenda for our words, resulting in much hurt, confusion, and chaos.<br />
<br />
- In Christ Jesus we find the grace that provides all we heed to speak as God intended us to speak.<br />
<br />
- The Bible plainly and simply teaches us how to get from where we are to where God wants us to be.<br />
<br />
Blessings.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-33394175340853023362013-04-05T22:35:00.003-04:002013-04-05T22:35:49.358-04:00Day 5...Too late (and too tired) to post, but I'm still sticking with it. Really learned a lot today, but will have to share another day. I've had a couple of long-distance friends mention that they want to join in...if you have, I'd love to hear how it's going for you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-3916466451932685822013-04-04T20:35:00.001-04:002013-04-04T20:38:18.181-04:00Day 4. Sweet Water.I don't have time to write a lot today, but I really wanted to take the opportunity to share while I'm feeling happy (and don't have any embarrassing moments to tell about). I can't claim any great victories today, because I honestly wasn't even with the children for most of the day, or with Jim. But I did have some very sweet time in the Word and in prayer this morning, and just have felt fortified and sheltered. As much as I felt under attack yesterday, today I felt shielded. I believe that the Lord just gave me a reprieve today, and His sweet presence "to cheer and to guide." <br />
<br />
He also gave me some wonderful friends who provided me counsel...support...and, well....chocolate doesn't hurt either. So thankful for the women He's placed in my life.<br />
<br />
There's a quote from Eric Liddell (<i>Chariots of Fire)</i> in which he says "God made me fast, and when I run, I feel His pleasure." There have been a handful of times in my life, always when I felt I was right where God wanted me to be no matter how difficult the situation, and I really believed that I could feel His pleasure. This situation isn't anything like the other times (our adoption trip to Ethiopia comes to mind), but I am feeling that sense of God's pleasure now, and it feels sweet. I know that I am stumbling and failing my way through this, but I am finding joy, and am full of hope. <br />
<br />
We did have dinner all together tonight, and I was intensely award of how much I was enjoying the children. I couldn't even tell you whether anyone had their feet on the chairs. I truly didn't notice. :) I also walked past the girls' room at bedtime and saw one of the girls swinging from a bar on a top bunk. I have a whole repertoire of sharp corrections which I normally might spout off about that (they might start off with, "<i>How many times have I said...", </i>or <i>"You know better than to be...", </i>and the words would be carried on a voice thick with irritation. You know, it was just as easy to say lightly, "Hop down, please," and just keep on walking. I had seen her face...she had frozen mid-swing when she saw me noticing what she was doing. She must have been steeling herself for whatever sharp correction she was expecting. That little girl and I both felt pretty good about the whole encounter. :) <br />
<br />
I have one parting thought for the day. I love Amy Carmichael, and long ago memorized a quote from her book <i>If.</i> Here it is: <br />
<br />
<i>If a sudden jar can cause me to speak an impatient, unloving word, then I know nothing of Calvary love. For a cup brimful of sweet water cannot spill even one drop of bitter water, however suddenly jolted.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
This is where I want to live....so brimful of sweet water (living water), that I cannot spill a bitter drop. Isn't that a good dream?<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-36371981632018788542013-04-03T14:55:00.000-04:002013-04-03T14:55:26.750-04:00Day 3. Sigh.I woke up this morning feeling (in retrospect) overly optimistic. Though I was still rolling my eyes at myself over the whole "feet on the chairs" incident yesterday, I still found myself thinking, "this is going to easier than I thought." Famous last words.<br />
<br />
Does anyone else have weird birthday issues? I like birthdays. I like <i>my </i>birthday. And I have certain ideas about how I would like my birthday to go. Having <i>someone</i> sort of...forget...doesn't fit with my plan. Now, in the <i>someone's</i> defense, he is not a birthday person. Doesn't even like his own birthday. And he didn't truly, entirely, forget. It's just that some folks' idea of celebrating a person's birthday entail getting up the morning of said birthday and running around like crazy trying to pull something together. And all the while I'm thinking that if you <i>truly</i> love someone, you would of course have been planning for weeks for that person's birthday. Or at least for days. Or, okay, maybe just the day before???<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, this morning was a bad morning for someone. He has been working really, really hard for the past two days, and went to bed sick last night. Woke up with a fever. Poor guy. I truly did feel bad for him. Didn't want him to go to Starbucks and get me a cup of coffee. Didn't want him to have to run around trying to make the day special for me. But I could feel myself building up resentment...because he wouldn't be in this predicament if he had done anything about it <i>before today!</i> So he (and several of his little minions) still did a bit of running around trying to make something special, but I had already closed my heart to it and decided to be mad. My feelings were hurt. Some old wounds (having nothing to do with him) were opened.<br />
<br />
Yes, I know how selfish this all sounds. I wanted to skip posting today, but I decided to just put it all out there. Because confession if good for the soul, right? And because maybe someone else can relate to this a bit.<br />
<br />
How unfair is this to my husband? What sort of burden am I placing on his back by measuring his love for me according to his capacity to meet some largely unspoken standards about <i>my birthday</i>, of all things? What sort of unreasonable burden am I placing on him if I expect him <i>in any way at all</i> to meet my deepest needs...to satisfy my longings and heal my wounds? I seriously sat in my room and cried this morning, drinking my coffee and nursing my hurt, but two thoughts kept coming to me over and over and over, and I finally had to get up and write. The first is a scripture verse:<br />
<br />
<i>"And my God shall supply every need of yours according to His riches in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:19.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>My God shall supply every need</i>. Why, oh why, am I looking to anyone else to supply my needs? And why on earth should I be hurt or angry when someone else fails to do it? Do I meet my husband's every need? Not even close. Do I truly feel thankful and blessed at the efforts he makes to love and care for me? Not nearly enough. Do I encourage his efforts...however lacking my selfish heart might perceive them as...or do I let him know that he is not measuring up to my standards (standards which I could never meet myself)? By now we all know the answer to that question. <i>Selfish heart...when will you learn?</i> <br />
<br />
And here is the second thing that kept coming to me this morning; this verse from a song by John Newton:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">When Satan appears</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
To stop up our path,</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And fills us with fears,</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
We triumph by faith;</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
He cannot take from us,</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Though oft he has tried,</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
The heart-cheering promise,</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
"The Lord will provide." </div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
He tells us we're weak,</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Our hope is in vain;</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
The good that we seek</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
We ne'er shall obtain;</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
But when such suggestions</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Our faith thus have tried,</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
This answers all questions,</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
"The Lord will provide." </div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
No strength of our own,</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Nor goodness we claim;</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Our trust is all thrown</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
On Jesus' dear name.</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
In this our strong tower</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
For safety we hide;</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
The Lord is our power,</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="text-align: center;">
"The Lord will provide." </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The Lord will provide. And now that I have written all of this down, I'm ready to get back to my fast. Did I fail today? Ummm...horribly. I'm not sure how I'm going to have a "do-over" in this situation. I'm ashamed of myself. I'm trusting, though, not in my strength, or my goodness, but "in Jesus' dear name." </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Maybe I'll have a better report for Day 4. But on the other hand, I don't want to record this day as a failure if the Lord has spoken to me through it. And He has, so I'm moving on.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Oh, and I can't end this without adding this disclaimer: my husband is wonderful and loves and cares for me in countless ways. I did admit right at the beginning that I have weird birthday issues, remember?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br style="background-color: white;" /><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-49477082089350889772013-04-02T19:29:00.002-04:002013-04-02T19:31:15.984-04:00Day 2...a Hard Habit to BreakThe roots of a critical spirit go deep. This goes much deeper than just an issue of the tongue. I've kept telling myself that what comes out of my mouth is the overflow of my heart, but shutting my mouth has definitely helped me to really take a hard look at the state of my heart. I'm more convinced than ever that I am dependent on God's grace to change me...though I think He is using this experience to work on it.<br />
<br />
I didn't mention yesterday that Jim is refinishing our wood floors this week during spring break. He and I both know that I don't have a high tolerance for disorder and noise. At this moment, most of the furniture from our living room and dining room is shoved into the kitchen, and the belt sander he rented has been cranking away (very loudly) during all of our waking hours since 7:30 yesterday morning. (It's too bad this blog doesn't have sound effects...you could listen in right now). Ahhh....sanctification. Do you think this is what "learning in the trenches" means?. Maybe it just wouldn't be as effective if I were beginning this quest during a peaceful, orderly week (as if there were such a thing).<br />
<br />
Last night, because of the general chaos going on in our house, we didn't sit down for dinner until after 7pm. Just to set the stage, please remember that I've already mentioned being a <i>control freak</i>. I am the table manners Nazi. "Sit up, please." "Put your feet on the floor." "Stop laying on the table." "<i>Ask</i> someone to pass that to you, don't reach across the table," "Don't chew with your mouth open....talk with food in your mouth....take such a big bites..." etc., etc., etc. (Sounds delightful, doesn't it?) Anyway, last night we were trying to squeeze around the table (remember all that extra furniture in the kitchen...and the dining room is off limits because of the sanding). As I squeezed around a corner to put plates on the table, I came up behind two girls sitting at the table with their feet underneath them on their chairs. Yes, normally I would've immediately told them to put their feet down (something along the lines of, "Chairs are for bottoms, not feet. Put your feet down, please"). But I'd been mentally preparing myself all day for dinnertime. Practicing the fine art of ignoring. My mouth was ready to stay closed, but...I forgot to tell my hands. I can't even explain what was going through my mind...maybe it was like an "out-of-body" experience, but my hands reached out <i>all on their own, turned those little girls bodies, and nudged their feet onto the floor.</i> I wish you could've seen the looks on their faces. (I wish I could've seen the look on my own face; I think I was as surprised as they were.) I looked back at them, shrugged sheepishly, and said, "ummm...sorry." <br />
<br />
Obviously I need a little more practice at this. We'll see what happens on Day 3.<br />
<br />
On the upside, from my quiet time today:<br />
<br />
<i>"You blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and the plate, that the outside also may be clean." Matt. 23:26. </i>This might not strike you as a super encouraging passage of scripture (!), but I am feeling deeply thankful that God is leading me through a process of cleaning the <i>inside</i> of my cup. I have so much hope in that.<br />
<br />
And this:<br />
<br />
<i>"No distrust made him (Abraham) waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised." Romans 5:20. </i>I give glory to God for every act (or word) of kindness that comes from me, and for every critical or harsh word that I was able <i>not</i> to speak today. Though my faith often is so weak, at this moment, on this day (and by His grace), I am fully convinced that God is able to do what He has promised in me. And, oh, His promises are good.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-4409115721314765402013-04-01T08:10:00.000-04:002013-04-02T19:30:44.769-04:00A 31 Day FastI have a sharp tongue. I can be critical and judgemental. I'm a <strike>bit of a</strike> control freak. All of these areas in which I struggle with sin in my life are really just symptoms of a much bigger problem. The problem is clear to me...I need to trust God and submit myself more deeply to Christ's authority in my life. I need to trust Him more, believing that He has my life (and the lives of my husband and children) in <i>His</i> capable and loving hands. I don't need to be in control, because He is. I am aware that my harsh words and criticism (far too often directed at my husband and children) are the response to deep fear. Fear that things will "go wrong." What if my husband doesn't lead well (parent well, conduct family worship the "right" way, make the "right" decisions for our family, participate in the "right" ministries, pray enough, eat healthy food, wear the sweater <i>without</i> the holes to church, choose the right restaurant for dinner...oh my...how did all of <i>that</i> come out?!) What if the children don't turn out "right"? What if I don't teach them the "right" subjects in school, or they don't learn them anyway, or they aren't hard enough workers, aren't kind and sweet, don't behave well enough in public, don't play a musical instrument, don't comb their hair or match their clothes, don't have nice table manners, go out in public with snotty faces, can't answer the questions in Sunday School, etc., etc., etc. Oops...there I go again. And the biggest fear (the fear behind all of the other fears)...what if something <i>I DO</i> causes them to turn away from Christ?!? What if <i>my</i> sins and failures cause my children to sin and fail? What if my greatest desire for them...to see them them love and follow Christ...is thwarted by my own example to them? And so, driven by all of that fearfulness, I nag. I snap. I criticize. Not all the time...and there are plenty of days when our home flows with sweetness and laughter and joy and hope. But there are far too many moments and days when the poison of my fear emerges from my mouth like venom. I want to trust God to work in my heart, and in the hearts of my husband and children. I want to grow in faith, in the knowledge that He loves them even more than I ever could, that He has a good plan for them, and that He will be faithful to complete His work in me and in them. I don't need to fear. I don't need to control. I need to rest in Him.<br />
<br />
So, the fast. Today is April 1st, and today (and for the month of April), I am fasting from criticism. I am determined to break the habit, and pull out the roots of it. So I am going to be radical about criticism for this one month. I am not allowing even what I would usually call <i>constructive</i> criticism. I want to be clear that I know how necessary it is for me, as a mother, to be able to correct my children, but for the next 31 days I am even going to put a fairly extreme limit on correction (I'll explain that later). <br />
<br />
I do want to be clear that I don't believe that I can, in my own strength, conquer this sin in my heart, or that by controlling what comes out of my mouth I can change what is in my heart. (Luke 6:45...for out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks). My desire is to pursue God wholeheartedly, and to seek His healing. I'm committed to pray intentionally and specifically each day during my "fast" that God will use this time to transform my heart...to form new "habits" of trusting in Him more fully and speaking words of grace. So here we go.<br />
<br />
The rules:<br />
1. Avoid speaking any critical words. Criticism is generally defined as being related to faultfinding. Interestingly, when I looked up antonyms for "criticism", some of the words listed were "approval", "praise", "compliment", "plaudit".<br />
<br />
2. Avoid, as much as possible, correction. This is different from criticism, and yes, I intend this even with my children. My intention is to allow correction only when it involves a safety issue or a clear "heart" issue (obvious sin). If one of the children is, for instance, hanging from a chandelier, preparing to climb out of a second story window, or playing with a knife, I'll have to put a stop to that. If a child is treating someone else unkindly, or generally sinning against someone, I'll need to address it. What I will try NOT to address are any behaviors which are not related to sin...basically all of the stuff that is generally annoying or irritating, and which often really does need to be addressed, but from which no real harm will come if I let it go for a month. Things like someone chewing with their mouth open, or not sitting up at the table, or humming while doing their schoolwork, or holding their pencil the wrong way, or wearing clothes that are dirty or mismatched. I could go on and on with this list, but you get the point.<br />
<br />
On a side note, I do know that generally it is good and wise to address all of these "small" issues. It's honoring to others to practice good table manners, to be clean and neatly dressed, and to avoid annoying behaviors. It's important to learn to hold your pencil correctly! It's even helpful to be able to match your clothes. But for an avowed control freak like me, it's just going to be necessary to go "cold turkey." And for my houseful of children, who are far too accustomed to having their every transgression addressed (and often not too gently), I imagine it might be quite a relief. It might even help bring some transforming grace to some of the children who I fear might be following in my footsteps. I'd like to see the children be less critical, and maybe they will follow my example. I know that after this 31 days I will need to be able to correct even these "lesser" issues, but my hope is that I will do it less frequently and more gently. I don't believe it will cause any lasting harm to ignore some of those things for one month. Though you might want to avoid coming for dinner in April if you can't tolerate seeing some open-mouthed chewing. :)<br />
<br />
3. When I fail (which I will), I need to have a "do-over" as quickly as possible. Take it back. Re-state it. Ask for forgiveness. I'm not going to make excuses or tell myself that I won't let it happen again. Zero tolerance.<br />
<br />
4. Control my face, body language, and tone of voice right along with my words. The right words (or even no words) can be completely negated by a sarcastic, "snarky" tone of voice, and angry look, or arms folded across one's chest.<br />
<br />
5. Praise and encourage as much as possible. I want to replace my harsh words with healing words. I'm not going to try to prescribe this (nothing along the lines of "I will say nine encouraging things every 47 minutes"), because my heart is to pray that God would give me His heart and words for my family, rather than to set up an something which might only result in me trying to control with my words.<br />
<br />
6. Pray, pray, pray. And expect to see God work. What might God do to transform my heart, and even my home, when I seek Him in this? I believe that He will bless this. My desire first and foremost is for Him, but I do believe that "all these things will be added unto me" (Matthew 6:33). My time at His feet, praying and studying His word, and seeking His help, far outweigh any of the other "rules" I've set up for myself.<br />
<br />
I recently read something helpful in Paul David Tripp's <i>War of Words. </i>There's a section in the book called "Choosing Words of Grace" in which Tripp emphasizes "five elements of grace-full talk." They are based on Ephesians 4:29, and here they are (in abbreviated form):<br />
<br />
<i> -Be unshakably committed to wholesome talk.</i><br />
<i>-Consider the person to whom you are talking ("...only what is helpful for building others up).</i><br />
<i>-Consider the problem you are being called to address ("...for building others up according to their </i><br />
<i> need).</i><br />
<i>-Consider the process ("...that it may benefit...give grace to....those who listen).</i><br />
<i>-Don't let your speech hinder the Holy Spirit's work.</i><br />
<br />
My intention is to write about my progress here over the next month. Not every day, but often enough to help me...not only to stay accountable, but to recognize God's hand and help.<br />
<br />
Oh, and one more thing. I am NOT TELLING anyone else in my household about this little experiment. I haven't written on this blog for months, so no one here ever reads it, or is ever on Facebook. If you read this, please don't tell. I think my fast would be much less effective if everyone here knew about it. I want to bless them, but I also think that one of the measures of the effectiveness of this "fast" will be whether they notice a difference without knowing what I'm doing.<br />
<h2 class="def-header" style="background-color: white; background-image: url(http://www.merriam-webster.com/styles/default/images/reference/hardrule-background.jpg); background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: repeat no-repeat; color: #c3857a; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 20px; margin: 20px 0px 10px; padding: 0px;">
</h2>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-88784822610372230262012-08-29T19:08:00.000-04:002012-08-29T19:08:43.999-04:00The First Day of School<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Okay, I'm super proud of myself that it only took me three days to post these pictures. Three days of Algebra, Logic, Physical Science, Vocabulary, Grammar, Spelling, Writing, Handwriting, Math, Medieval History, Astronomy, Reading/Phonics, Piano, Violin, etc., etc., etc. Whew. But it's totally worth it. Here ya go:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d_MgjsJT9hs/UD6dmjbf3HI/AAAAAAAAABk/e-TjsxUd1Lg/s1600/DSC_0075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d_MgjsJT9hs/UD6dmjbf3HI/AAAAAAAAABk/e-TjsxUd1Lg/s640/DSC_0075.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rAbpqkmsZ1o/UD6ddumcdOI/AAAAAAAAABY/F8tar4uKXD4/s1600/DSC_0067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rAbpqkmsZ1o/UD6ddumcdOI/AAAAAAAAABY/F8tar4uKXD4/s640/DSC_0067.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Fzogf6COxMU/UD6dJDc1RGI/AAAAAAAAABI/U9r2VsDbxKI/s1600/DSC_0028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Fzogf6COxMU/UD6dJDc1RGI/AAAAAAAAABI/U9r2VsDbxKI/s640/DSC_0028.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dKnoqms94DU/UD6dUJgkSKI/AAAAAAAAABQ/0CMRsQOs08g/s1600/DSC_0047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dKnoqms94DU/UD6dUJgkSKI/AAAAAAAAABQ/0CMRsQOs08g/s640/DSC_0047.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2twC5mhLy0Y/UD6dv3ZEwWI/AAAAAAAAABs/IlASXhEVqvo/s1600/DSC_0024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2twC5mhLy0Y/UD6dv3ZEwWI/AAAAAAAAABs/IlASXhEVqvo/s640/DSC_0024.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Dh8IMyjdta8/UD6c_cnH5OI/AAAAAAAAABA/bNyKfqOSkwQ/s1600/DSC_0010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Dh8IMyjdta8/UD6c_cnH5OI/AAAAAAAAABA/bNyKfqOSkwQ/s640/DSC_0010.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JgqzGASe0sA/UD6d-NTAw_I/AAAAAAAAAB0/PHi618-D2MU/s1600/DSC_0113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JgqzGASe0sA/UD6d-NTAw_I/AAAAAAAAAB0/PHi618-D2MU/s640/DSC_0113.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yes. That's a giant chocolate chip cookie. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
By the way, I'm trying to renovate the blog...I have some new plans for its use. But the start of school has sort of waylaid my big plans. The start of school, and...well, baking giant chocolate chip cookies and other stuff like that. More to come soon. :) </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-31939619190250676332012-08-14T16:46:00.001-04:002012-08-14T16:46:25.913-04:00An unwanted haircut and a lesson in grace (or "Driven and tossed by the wind" part 2)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I sent the following e-mail to Jim at work today:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Dear Jim,</div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Where are the wire cutters? This morning, because I am stuck on the couch with a bad back (for the second day), M asked if she could brush my hair. I said yes. She asked if she could part my hair with a comb. I said no (<i>I knew from experience that M doesn't handle a comb well</i>). She did it anyway. By the time I realized what she was doing, most of the hair on the back of my head was snarled around a rat-tail comb. R and N have spent the better part of the day trying to untangle it while I lay on the couch. It isn't working. I've been online searching for solutions. I didn't like the idea of shaving my head, or of cutting my hair off with hedge trimmers (seriously...Google "hair tangled around comb" and see what you come up with). The only helpful idea I found online was to try to cut off as much of the comb as possible with wire cutters so that it would be easier to untangle the hair from the comb. So....dear husband...do you know where the wire cutters are?</div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Love,</div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
Me</div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
About an hour later, Jim came home from work to try to salvage the situation. I had just gotten out of the shower, where I had tried to rinse out the half-bottle of conditioner that had been rubbed around the tangle to try to give it "slip." The girls had actually untangled a fair amount of the hair, but the tangle remaining was pretty hopeless.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3J_bw3uckOg/UCqmd6k5UdI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Kaat_T06NE8/s1600/DSC_0108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3J_bw3uckOg/UCqmd6k5UdI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Kaat_T06NE8/s400/DSC_0108.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R1VLLTv60EM/UCqm1bKL3VI/AAAAAAAAAAs/h3h99hSPehA/s1600/DSC_0128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R1VLLTv60EM/UCqm1bKL3VI/AAAAAAAAAAs/h3h99hSPehA/s400/DSC_0128.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Jim cut out a lot of the comb, but still couldn't get the hair untangled. Out came the hair scissors, and off came a hunk of tangled hair. I haven't seen the back of my head yet (I'm still on the couch with the heating pad), but the children insist that you can't even tell. Maybe you can picture their earnest little faces as they looked with large eyes at the pieces of comb and hair in Jim's hands. We'll see. <br />
<br />
Funny thing is, I had spent the whole day battling anger, irritability, and just plain sin, and it wasn't even all about the comb hanging off the back of my head. It's true, there's a fair amount of pain involved with my back trouble. It's true, I've been sweating like a pig, because I really need the heating pad despite the 90 degree August weather. It's true, the house is a wreck, the laundry isn't done, and yesterday I already did pretty much everything I could do from my spot on the couch. I can sense the moments until school starts sliding by while I sit here, and feel my tension rising. So I kept trying to preach to myself. <a href="http://consider-it-purejoy.blogspot.com/2012/08/driven-and-tossed-by-wind-or-not.html" target="_blank">These are just "blips"."I am not a wave."</a> But I failed. I failed somewhat miserably, in fact. I was less than loving with Jim last night, and less than patient with the children today. It wasn't anything dramatic...in fact when I truly evaluate my actual words and actions, I'm, surprised to realize that I had more self-control than I felt I was having at the time. But it's my <i>heart.</i> I called all of the children into the living room (right before Jim got home with the wire cutters) to repent and ask their forgiveness for my attitude today, and I realized that they weren't really even <i>aware</i> of the extent of my sin against them. I really wasn't expressing it nearly as clearly as I thought I was...thank goodness. But I was certainly thinking and feeling it. So I guess the bottom line for me is this: 1) I have a long way to go. A lifetime, really, of continuing to seek God's help, continuing to ask Him over and over to empty me out of me, and fill me up with Him. I think maybe I even <i>need</i> to have days like this one just to continually remind me of how much I do need His help in everything. If the "little ants" or "blips" that I'm troubled by really aren't much trouble at all, or if there aren't too many of them for me to handle, then it's easy to convince myself that I'm in control. When of course, the whole idea of me being in control is laughable. And 2) I am deeply, unspeakably thankful for the process of sanctification that God has begun in me, and continues to work in me. As deeply as I felt my sin today, I am aware of His goodness, and honestly of the good He is working in me. As much as I felt my failure today, I am aware of the growth...of the ways in which, by God's grace, I didn't fail. The harsh or hurtful words I didn't say. The ways that He kept drawing my attention away from my fretfulness, and back to Himself. I am meditating on these words (from Psalm 73:28) "<i>But as for me, the nearness of God is my good; I have made the Lord God my refuge, that I may tell of all Your works." </i>The nearness of God is my good. If He is near...there is good. My good. If there is any good in me...He is near. And I will tell of all His works.<br />
<br />
N spoke up from across the room as Jim was finishing my haircut. "Are you going to let M brush your hair anymore?" The question took me by surprise, but my answer was quick...yes. Of course. The long day behind me flashed through my mind, and my own need for grace felt heavy. R was sitting close by listening...the daughter who struggles the most with grace, both for herself and for others. And I said it for her and for myself...there is grace for this. There is grace for M from <i>me</i>, because the grace that's been offered <i>to</i> me is boundless and costly. I am grasping it for myself today, with a grateful heart. And, in all seriousness...a lesson in grace is worth an unwanted haircut. :) Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-31920070782235833562012-08-11T00:33:00.001-04:002012-08-12T07:58:19.540-04:00Driven and tossed by the wind. Or not.It hasn't been an easy day. I got up a bit late, partly because I spent some of the night in bed with Y after he had a bad dream. I stopped in the middle of my quiet time this morning to take a shower while R and E went out for a run. According to my plan for the day, I would definitely be able to get back to my Bible (left open on the couch) after breakfast. While I was getting dressed, R knocked on my door to tell me that she had a migraine. She's been getting them for the last two years; at first only every few months, but recently it's been every few weeks. She generally sleeps them off, so she went back to bed just as someone knocked on the front door. I went to the door (with my hair still wet) to see my neighbor...for whom R was supposed to be babysitting for the next 4 or 5 hours. I had completely forgotten. He had to get to a meeting, so I told him to go ahead and bring his three children to me. Usually R is sleeps off her migraines in a couple of hours and is back to normal, so I figured when she woke up she could take the children home and babysit them there, and I could get on with my day as planned. Meanwhile, the neighbor children could play nicely with my children, and I could still get a few things done.<br />
<br />
As the morning passed, I quickly realized that the children were going to require my <i>complete</i> attention. Enough said. I mentally looked over my "to do" list, thinking that once R took them home I could still accomplish a lot. Jim was supposed to take E and some other friends on a camping expedition tonight (a "roughing it", backpacking and foraging for food kind of adventure). I wanted to help get things ready for them, along with all of the other "back to school" work I needed to tackle. At around 1pm, I finally admitted to myself that R wasn't going to experience her usual 2 hour recovery. She was still in bed, and just moaned when I checked on her.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, I had gotten a call from a friend asking if the camping trip was still on, considering the weather forecast. I checked, and the forecast was calling for showers and thunderstorms...90% chance of precip. during the night. The boys were supposed to hike into St. Mary's Wilderness for a couple of hours, and throw down their sleeping bags. Hmmm. I checked in with Jim, who said he had a lunch meeting and would make a decision after that. Turns out the there was an issue at work which required his immediate attention after the meeting, and he wasn't even able to think about the camping trip until 3pm (he was supposed to be home by 2:30, and leave for the trip at 3). He finally got home and decided to go ahead with the trip, and we were frantically trying to get things ready for he and E to meet the other guys, when I noticed that A had fallen asleep. On the floor. Right in front of the front door. Odd for a 7 year old. I went to check on her and noticed that she was flaming hot. To the tune of 104.3 degrees, as it turned out. I ran to get some Tylenol, and tried to get her to swallow the prescribed 2 teaspoons full. She hates medicine. As soon as she got it all swallowed, she threw up. On the couch. I think I recognized peanut butter sandwich. I cleaned her up and went to get some Advil...didn't want to give her any more Tylenol because I couldn't be sure she had thrown up all of the first dose. Of course, we didn't have any Advil. Jim was still trying to throw the backpacks together, and meanwhile was receiving calls from work about the previously mentioned situation, and kept having to sit down and with his I-pad to deal with something. I sat A on the couch (not the vomited-on couch; a different one). I then sat N next to her and made her promise to watch A and make sure she was okay while I ran to Kroger for some Advil (R was helping Jim pack). In case you're wondering why I made N sit and watch A...well I don't know. I suppose I thought that if A started to have a febrile seizure, N could call my cell phone and describe it to me as I rushed home with the medicine. Who thinks perfectly under those circumstances? I got the Advil and got home just in time to point out to Jim that I hadn't had a chance to fill up the gas in the van because of the whole babysitting fiasco, so he would have to get gas. He was already almost 2 hours late leaving for the trip. Oh, and the clouds were starting to roll in.<br />
<br />
Jim and E drove off, A swallowed her Advil (I got the chewables this time), I turned on a video for the children, and I sat down at the kitchen table and surveyed the damage. Crazy mess, piles of paperwork untouched, disgusting couch to clean up. Oh, and I haven't mentioned that yesterday the toilet overflowed upstairs, causing two inches of water in the upstairs bathroom which then rained down into the kitchen below. So there are holes in the kitchen ceiling. And the dog has a cough, which led me to give her Robitussin (I checked on the internet...it really is okay to give a dog Robitussin), but she doesn't like it so she spits and thrashes and she now has pink stains all over her face and feet. I think I've cleaned up the pink stains on the floor and walls, but I might have missed some.<br />
<br />
There.<br />
<br />
And now, you might be asking, the point of it all? It's just this: I am not a wave. I. Am. Not. A. Wave. (I haven't completely lost it...keep reading and maybe this will start to make sense). I've been learning to pray. Seriously...I've been learning some things about what it really means to pray (yes, I thought I already knew, but I'm now realizing that I'll be learning it forever). And I've been praying more. In the spring, we were memorizing the first chapter of James, and there is one line that has continued to speak to me, from verse 6. It says that "he who doubts is like a wave in the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind." James goes on to say that "that person" (the one who doubts) "must not suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord." In the passage, he was specifically referring to asking God for wisdom. But certainly this applies to...well...anything. Because clearly, as you read James 1, the contrast to the man who doubts is one who is steadfast. This probably has stood out so strongly to me because...well, let's just say that "steadfast" is not exactly my middle name. I can be a little high-strung. I definitely think of myself as more of the "driven and tossed by the wind" kind of girl. But God has a different name for me altogether. And I truly believe that in His plan for me, He really might just re-make me into a "Steadfast." Because that's who He is. Check out the Psalms; He is described as steadfast 128 times there. And He calls me to be like Him, and if He says it, He will help me accomplish it. So...prayer. A deepening desire to be more and more like Him, and to be less and less like...well...me. A more and more frequent drive to turn to Him throughout the day and seek Him. Just Him. Wanting Him to wash me away, to fill me, to flow through me. <i>"Whoever believes in Me, as the scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water." John 7:38.</i> And so I am noticing, slowly, that the more I turn to Him, the more I dwell with Him, the more I am becoming less "wavelike." All of the events of my day today (and yesterday, and the day before), they are really just <i>blips</i>. They are just so small. But it's all of those little things, piling up, day after day, that generally drive and toss me. It occurred to me recently that the image of sin prowling like a lion to devour me doesn't always seem to fit. Sometimes, it seems more like a million tiny, biting ants. There isn't a single one of them that could devour me, but altogether they seem devastating. If I doubt. But if I am steadfast...if my desire to be intimate with my Lord is driving me to Him over and over and leading me to lay each little issue...each little ant...at His feet in order that I can keep my eyes on Him? If we are truly "<i>more than conquerors through Him who loved us" </i>(Romans 8:37) against tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, or danger, or sword, then how can I not trust Him to conquer my little ants? To keep the wind (which He stills with His voice) from tossing me?<br />
<br />
Enough said. I'm well aware that I may be driven by some wind on another day. The next flooded bathroom, or migraine, or messy house, might temporarily undo me. But it won't conquer me. I am finding joy in glimpses of His face, and the ants and the winds will never hold out for long against the beauty of that.<br />
<br />
Oh, by the way, I've been typing this to the sound of thunder and rain outside. I'm guessing things are quite wet in the woods by now, but I'm thankful that the guys ended up taking along a couple of tents. They'll make some memories, right? I just hope Jim has already stored up some great memories before tomorrow morning comes and he realizes that he forgot to pack his coffee. I found it sitting on the stove after he left. I could tell him that it's just a "blip." Just a little ant, really. But probably I'd better just have some strong, black coffee brewing when he gets home tomorrow afternoon with a caffeine-withdrawal headache. :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09194391129778073021noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-25553925128211122032012-03-27T06:51:00.001-04:002012-07-06T10:57:28.250-04:00A Priceless GiftJim sent the following message from Ethiopia a few days ago. I can hardly wait for him to get home and pour out every detail of his trip; he has been so good about e-mailing me as often as he can, but his messages are brief; internet is spotty, he doesn't have a lot of time, and it doesn't help that he types with two fingers. :) So I'll just have to wait. I am still rolling all of this around in my heart...so deeply thankful, joyful, and burdened all at the same time. We have prayed for and imagined this for so long. I'm not even going to try to elaborate on his message right now. Maybe after he's home and I've heard the whole story. But for now...here it is:<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;">Best days of my life: Becoming a Christian, marrying my wife, birth/adoption of my children, and today...meeting an incredibly Godly women who says she prays for us! She trusted God and gave two of her children to us and today I met her and her precious oldest daughter. By the way the dress fits perfectly. I can't stop fighting tears. SHE prays for us! I have lots of video, including the market place buying a cow, 3 sheep, and 4 chickens. I am blessed way more than I deserve. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2vd96OpuI1g/T3GYiVKBAiI/AAAAAAAAAps/vQQtlGag6cA/s1600/Meselech+and+Tsion+March+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2vd96OpuI1g/T3GYiVKBAiI/AAAAAAAAAps/vQQtlGag6cA/s400/Meselech+and+Tsion+March+2012.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ujh_9nvKQwU/T3GYmOnxEAI/AAAAAAAAAp0/4QkA1xpHG_Y/s1600/Jim+with+M+and+Tsion+march+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ujh_9nvKQwU/T3GYmOnxEAI/AAAAAAAAAp0/4QkA1xpHG_Y/s400/Jim+with+M+and+Tsion+march+2012.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I will add that this meeting was NOT the purpose of Jim's trip to Ethiopia. When we planned the trip we had no idea that this would be part of it. God opened up doors in an amazing way...we could never have imagined the way that He would perfectly work out every detail. We are so blessed.</div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-38944839852799742602012-03-21T13:26:00.000-04:002012-07-26T21:53:16.074-04:00Here we go again...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RWvrMGZNCbA/T2oMYYzGU0I/AAAAAAAAApk/XZLu602ctOQ/s1600/Noel+Grace+116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RWvrMGZNCbA/T2oMYYzGU0I/AAAAAAAAApk/XZLu602ctOQ/s320/Noel+Grace+116.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Jim is off to Ethiopia this morning, along with a close friend who also happens to be a deacon at our church. They're on a vision trip with Children's Hope Chest, with the purpose of prayerfully seeking a Carepoint with which our church can partner. We're super excited about the prospect of that partnership, but meanwhile another more personal partnership is also being forged. Well, it's not really being forged...I believe it was forged long ago by a God who has seen every one of our days before a single one of them came to be. Jim will be meeting tomorrow with an Ethiopian young man who has become a trusted friend, and who has orchestrated something that seemed impossible to us two years ago. A chance to meet with a woman we love with all our hearts without ever having laid eyes on her. An opportunity to speak words of love and esteem, in person, to someone for whom we've prayed and longed. To embrace her, along with her young daughter. To share with her and cry with her. To thank God that He works all things together for good...even when those things include loss and suffering.<br />
<br />
The flight departed this morning at 11am. They'll arrive in Addis Ababa at midnight our time, which is 8am Addis time. I don't know for sure what time the meeting will take place. God knows...and we'll just be praying all day. Join us if you're willing, please. Honestly, my heart is breaking that I won't be there. My tears at the airport this morning weren't only because I was parting from my husband. I was almost physically aching in my longing to touch and hug this precious member of our family, and for our tears to mingle.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, here are some pictures I sent along. It's been two years since MJ and Y left Ethiopia...longer than that since she's seen them. They're almost unrecognizable compared with the pictures I have of them then. But she'll know them. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HKAWU1v99pk/T2oKTlyKigI/AAAAAAAAAo0/GKEzUzgE3x0/s1600/Yosi+and+Mihret+spring+2012+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HKAWU1v99pk/T2oKTlyKigI/AAAAAAAAAo0/GKEzUzgE3x0/s640/Yosi+and+Mihret+spring+2012+019.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KgYc7uUuQjs/T2oKmQPA0YI/AAAAAAAAAo8/gB1ArfjDD5E/s1600/Yosi+and+Mihret+spring+2012+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KgYc7uUuQjs/T2oKmQPA0YI/AAAAAAAAAo8/gB1ArfjDD5E/s640/Yosi+and+Mihret+spring+2012+041.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0mfv762gWOA/T2oK2wcEEWI/AAAAAAAAApE/vNbJKmbzjQY/s1600/Yosi+and+Mihret+spring+2012+111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0mfv762gWOA/T2oK2wcEEWI/AAAAAAAAApE/vNbJKmbzjQY/s640/Yosi+and+Mihret+spring+2012+111.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-071DKFb9ibM/T2oLHUHlAZI/AAAAAAAAApM/qLAMKRlBqN8/s1600/Yosi+and+Mihret+spring+2012+097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-071DKFb9ibM/T2oLHUHlAZI/AAAAAAAAApM/qLAMKRlBqN8/s640/Yosi+and+Mihret+spring+2012+097.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yybAXyIFyjU/T2oLMK-JOOI/AAAAAAAAApU/X3O8myNPxxA/s1600/Yosi+and+Mihret+spring+2012+197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yybAXyIFyjU/T2oLMK-JOOI/AAAAAAAAApU/X3O8myNPxxA/s640/Yosi+and+Mihret+spring+2012+197.JPG" width="420" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ppKd38MYSa8/T2oLfgVSu-I/AAAAAAAAApc/jVIFjEyPBO8/s1600/Yosi+and+Mihret+spring+2012+218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ppKd38MYSa8/T2oLfgVSu-I/AAAAAAAAApc/jVIFjEyPBO8/s640/Yosi+and+Mihret+spring+2012+218.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
Thanks for your prayers...more updates to come. Jim is in Ethiopia until March 30.<br />
<br />
By the way, if there are any Blogger experts out there...what happened to my header? I haven't posted since December, and when I opened it up this week the header was messed up. I don't even remember how to change it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-76228778546795706602011-12-18T07:55:00.000-05:002011-12-18T07:56:40.253-05:00A Few Macchiattos a Month<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ETgWVc-V9Q4/Tu05YhvHGAI/AAAAAAAAAos/k8H6G-hNI78/s1600/Ethiopia+nov+2011+417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ETgWVc-V9Q4/Tu05YhvHGAI/AAAAAAAAAos/k8H6G-hNI78/s400/Ethiopia+nov+2011+417.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Before I tell this story, I need to give a little background info. Ethiopia is the home of coffee. Seriously. And the coffee we drink here in America...well, it's really not the same beverage. Maybe it doesn't even deserve to be called coffee. I don't like coffee...except for those special coffee drinks that come with whipped cream and syrup on top. When you're in Ethiopia, you're offered a cup everywhere you go. A coffee ceremony is performed for every occasion, and black coffee is handed around in delicate little cups. On my first visit to ET I never tasted it, and on this last trip I made it halfway through the week before a friend convinced me to taste hers. Oh. My. Goodness. Now I know what coffee is supposed to taste like; it was smooth and rich, no bitterness, and it tasted like...well, coffee. There's a chain of coffee shops in Ethiopia called Kaldis<i> </i>of which Ethiopians are very proud. Jim and I laughed when we were there; it's been made to look very much like Starbucks, and it was actually a comfort to visit there (even if all I ordered that first time was a Coke; no coffee!) because it felt a bit like home. At any rate, Kaldis sells their own version of the fancy coffee drinks we buy here at Starbucks, along with desserts (which are not a common part of one's diet in ET). The most popular coffee beverage seems to be the Macchiatto, which we were offered every time we ate a meal in a restaurant.<br />
<br />
Now, having explained about Kaldis, I want to share a story about a man I met in Ethiopia. He's on the staff of Children's Hope Chest, and spent a lot of time with our team. On the last day we were there, I had a long conversation with him (our team went out to lunch after church, and he and I sat together and had a very long wait for our pizza). While we were waiting, Misikir told me about a passion God has given him. Remember, he is already working for CHC, spending his days helping vulnerable children and their families, and he also has a beautiful wife and precious baby boy at home. But he loves the Lord, and he has seen a need...an opportunity to serve God and the ones He loves, and he is determined to help. He talked to me about young Christians in Ethiopia who are struggling because they do not have the resources to be educated. He described, with enthusiasm, his desire to see young Christians being trained and prepared to assume roles of leadership in Ethiopia...to bring about change in their country for the glory of God. He told stories of young people he knew personally, of how he feels concerned about the choices they are making when they don't believe education is attainable to them. He told me one story about a young woman who had been able to begin studying nursing at a local university, but when she was no longer able to pay the tuition, she considered selling herself as a means of earning the money to continue. She knew that her future was bleak without an education, and saw no other means of attaining it. My friend was convicted that he needed to find a way to help his younger brothers and sisters in Christ. He went home to his wife one day and presented her with his desire to begin helping. He wanted to begin paying tuition for one young woman out of his own income, and wanted to know if his wife would support this. She, too, believed that God would ask them to help, and agreed. This giving was sacrificial for this young family. And my friend knew that there were many more young men and women who needed help. So he began to share his passion with his friends, and even began to dream of starting an organization through which Christian young men and women could be assisted financially (toward their education), and also discipled by older Christians who could guide them toward seeking godly vision for their lives.<br />
<br />
What does all of this have to do with coffee? As I listened to this young man's passionate love for God and others, he said something that almost made me laugh out loud. Actually, it was one of those "don't know whether to laugh or cry" moments. He was telling me how much money is needed to pay one month's tuition at a local university. He was saying that when he shares his vision with others, hoping to find support, he will sometimes tell them that the amount needed is "only a few Macchiatos a month." If I understood correctly, the amount was around 600 birr; roughly $30/month. Just a few Macchiatos. It was just such a familiar line to me, yet the illustration he had laid out for me was so powerful. My friend and the other Ethiopians with whom we were eating that day are not living in poverty; they are earning a good income by Ethiopian standards, and providing for their families. But by American standards...well, I am wealthy in comparison. And yet this man was challenging himself and others to sacrifice more, perhaps to sacrifice one of a few pleasures that they allow themselves. <br />
<br />
The price of a few Kaldis Macchiatos...a few Starbucks Lattes a month...really can change someone's life. The cost for my friend to support a young college student while pointing him to Christ. The cost of sponsoring a child...providing food, education, Christian teaching. It's hard to measure that in terms of coffee. Or maybe not so hard. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-73494656311034157782011-12-14T16:11:00.000-05:002011-12-14T16:11:17.324-05:00The "Star" of the show<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AU3rt1RBBVg/TukO-gwSzmI/AAAAAAAAAoc/wvOesyaUq4s/s1600/JPBC+Christmas+Program+2011+046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AU3rt1RBBVg/TukO-gwSzmI/AAAAAAAAAoc/wvOesyaUq4s/s640/JPBC+Christmas+Program+2011+046.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fBDXkABhrqg/TukPMDimP1I/AAAAAAAAAok/v_auOIN8xxY/s1600/JPBC+Christmas+Program+2011+082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fBDXkABhrqg/TukPMDimP1I/AAAAAAAAAok/v_auOIN8xxY/s640/JPBC+Christmas+Program+2011+082.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
Sunday evening was the children's Christmas program at our church. Three of the "youth" (young adults!) at our church planned and directed the whole thing, and did such a great job. I was really bummed that I didn't get great pictures (I have a new camera lens, was playing around with my camera set on "manual", and basically got a lot of unfocused pictures. Sigh.) Anyway, I couldn't resist posting a couple of the less fuzzy pictures. E was the star of the show. Literally. Not "star" as in the main role, but the actual Bethlehem star. If I can figure out how to download E's Flipcam, I'll definitely post a bit of video soon. As soon as he stepped out (onto a ledge above the baptismal pool!), I told myself one thing. Do. Not. Look at him. I was laughing so much that I was afraid of snorting. And the rest of the children were doing such a fabulous job, and the whole thing was so sweet, I just didn't want to miss it. But the star...well, you kind of had to be there. Nice job, E. And for <a href="http://scrapsfrommyworkbasket.blogspot.com/">Jo March</a> and her team of directors...fabulous. Thanks. :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-65250787119682753572011-12-13T09:30:00.000-05:002011-12-13T10:23:30.718-05:00Happy Birthday, Sweet Girl<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-psG1UNwpcW0/TudjCFJktdI/AAAAAAAAAoM/AesVE8JH-oU/s1600/All+kids+feb+05+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-psG1UNwpcW0/TudjCFJktdI/AAAAAAAAAoM/AesVE8JH-oU/s400/All+kids+feb+05+001.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
2004</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(NJ, R, E, and baby A)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zmNNJ01jQek/Tudkzs9zzjI/AAAAAAAAAoU/A_UYjsakfdc/s1600/Anna%2527s+Birthday+037-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zmNNJ01jQek/Tudkzs9zzjI/AAAAAAAAAoU/A_UYjsakfdc/s400/Anna%2527s+Birthday+037-2.jpg" width="261" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
December 12, 2011</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Sweet A turned 7 yesterday. I remember crying when she turned four; I felt as though I was losing my baby. I think I cried when she turned five, too. Somehow, I finally caught on that she just brings me more joy every year. How can I not just look up and say, "Thank You" on her birthday? On all of their birthdays? Okay, okay, I still might cry...maybe when she turns 16. But yesterday, and today...I am all full of "Thank You."<br />
<br />
The day she was born is vivid in my memory. She was due on Christmas Eve, which was still two weeks away, she was baby number four, and my babies were always just a little late. I had been feeling a little <i>funny</i> at church that morning, but had already decided that I was <i>not</i> having a baby on that December afternoon. I didn't even have a bag packed for the hopital. Hadn't really decided on a name for little girl #3. At around 2:30pm I changed my mind. Packed a bag, put the children in the van (R was 6 years old, E was 3, and little NG was not quite 2). We headed in the opposite direction of the hospital to drop them off with a friend, then turned around and headed back toward town (I'm pretty sure I remember running a red light). We got to the hospital at 3:05. The birth was recorded at 3:11. She has kept life just a little more exciting ever since. (We had been thinking of naming her <i>Natalie Joy</i>, because Natalie means "born at Christmas", and she was due on Christmas Eve. But she wasn't born on Christmas Eve, and based on some experiences we'd had during the months prior to her birth, we named her <i>Anna Christine. " </i>Follower of Christ. Full of grace". Those were our dreams for her.)<br />
<br />
<i>Dear A, on your 7th birthday,</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>You are such a gift to me. You are funny, and smart, and you keep me laughing. It has been a joy to see you growing in compassion over the past year, and to see your tender heart. I love watching you care for your baby dolls with gentleness and smiles. We all know how much you love bears, and everything about bears, and talking about, singing about, and looking at pictures of bears. But you love your brothers, sisters, and friends even more. Especially R; you look up to her and would do anything for her. I know that the two of you will be best friends one day, and she will look back with smiles at all of the ways you loved her. You also love to pray, and always remind us to pray for any need; if we are driving in our van and hear an ambulance, you are always the one to remember to pray for the one who is sick or hurt. You have also started singing; you love music and dancing and singing, and it was so much fun to see you sing with the "Kinderchorus" at the Christmas program last week. I'm guessing that it was the first of many such performances for you. Your face was glowing while you watched the older girls singing.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>As much as you love all of your siblings, I know it wasn't easy to go from being the baby of the family to being the "middle child" on that day (almost two years ago) when we got home from Ethiopia with Y and MJ. You've told me wistfully, with downcast eyes, that you wish you were "either little or big." Big enough to ride your bike to the playground without me, stay up late, or just hang out with the "big kids." Or little enough to be the baby of the family again. But over the last year you have settled into your new role with grace. You are a great big sister. There were many days when it broke my heart to watch you struggle, knowing that your little heart was breaking too...that you were afraid and insecure and feeling that your place in my heart was threatened by your younger siblings. It never was. Your very special place in my heart can never be occupied by anyone else but you. And God knew exactly what you needed, just as much as He knew what Y and MJ needed. Had you stayed the "baby," you would not be the girl you are today. He has grown you, refined you, and loved you. Even as He will continue to do for many years and birthdays to come. I can't wait to watch. I will always be loving you, praying for you, and delighting in you. </i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>Love you sweet A. Happy 7th.</i><br />
<i>Love,</i><br />
<i>Mama </i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-29447797311611151632011-12-13T08:31:00.003-05:002011-12-13T08:31:43.364-05:00Shall I Play for Him?I love this video. <i>Love</i> it. It made me dance in the kitchen this morning. Made my heart sing. Couldn't wait to show it to E this morning when he got up; music is his joy. Maybe I could tolerate drums in the house after all...<br />
<br />
Enjoy! :)<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/IrNcD34KFhM" width="450"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-49520174344072549192011-12-06T07:01:00.000-05:002011-12-06T11:01:01.075-05:00What shall I give Him, poor as I am?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u_-U41_ppDs/Tt4GZxIk_1I/AAAAAAAAAoE/iLBP-7geZn4/s1600/earrings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u_-U41_ppDs/Tt4GZxIk_1I/AAAAAAAAAoE/iLBP-7geZn4/s1600/earrings.jpg" /></a></div>
This is a story about a 13 year old girl, a set of earrings, and a mother's heart convicted. (I'm telling it with permission from said "13 year old girl). The story begins with R getting her ears pierced. She wasn't sure she wanted them pierced, but she knew she would be allowed to do it when she turned 13. We went away on a special mother/daughter "retreat" to celebrate her birthday, during which we visited Tyson's Corner for shopping and dinner. While we were there (after much agonizing over the decision), she got her ears pierced. She was told that she needed to wear the piercing studs (tiny gold balls which were used to pierce her ears) for six weeks, and then she could change them and wear other earrings. It just happened that the end of the six week time period came just as we were ready to leave for Ethiopia. A few days before we left, we purchased a little set of 4 pairs of earrings for her. They weren't anything extravagant, but she picked them out herself with a friend and was excited to wear them. So she actually packed them to take along to Ethiopia; a bit out of character since she was generally packing sparsely in order to make more room for donations, but those little earrings didn't take up much space.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to the middle of our week in Ethiopia. We had noticed that many of the little girls in the Kind Hearts Carepoint had pierced ears. They looked as though they had been pierced with tiny slivers of wood, and often appeared to be infected. After having just observed the sterile and relatively painless method by which R's ears had been pierced, I have a hard time imagining the scene in which those little slivers had been forced through tiny earlobes. Looking back, I'm not sure I actually ever noticed a little girl with earrings; I'm sure there must have been some, but what stuck in my memory was those little ears with the pieces of wood pierced through. One of the members of our team mentioned that she wished she had a pair of earrings to give to her sponsored child, who was one of the girls with infected ears, but she hadn't brought a pair with her. I was excited to remember that R had brought her little earring set, and said that I was sure she would be happy to give a pair away.<br />
<br />
Later that night, I mentioned the conversation to R. She didn't say much, but agreed that she would give away one of her pairs of earrings. She climbed up on the top bunk where she was sleeping, inspected the set, and showed me a pair that she had chosen to give away. I, not at all sensitive to any trouble brewing yet, pointed out that I thought one of the other pairs was cuter, and might be a better choice. This is when things began to go south. I hadn't yet realized that those earrings were at the center of a battle going on over R's heart. I continued the discussion, suggesting that she choose a pair which I didn't know were her favorites, and then wondering why she didn't just give them all away; there were several little girls at Kind Heart to choose from (all with splinters in their ears). <br />
<br />
She did not want to give them away. She particularly didn't want to give away the pairs she liked best. In retrospect, I can consider that she was separated at that time from everything that feels familiar and comfortable and safe to her. She was away from her Daddy, who is her compass. She was exhausted, hungry, and stressed. They were the first earrings she had ever had; she did not want to part from those earrings. I, in my typical fashion of processing out loud (when <i>will</i> I learn to be slow to speak?) just burst out my disapproval to her. I don't remember my exact words, but it was probably something along the lines of this: "Really!? You seriously don't know whether you want to give away your <i>earrings</i>? Did you notice that some of those girls don't even have <i>shoes?" </i>I won't go on (it's too painful to admit any more), but suffice it to say that I stood myself up on a platform of self-righteousness. And I'll confess that my pride was at work. She was bursting my bubble. I wanted her to respond perfectly (every time, of course). I wanted her to gush lovely, unselfish words about those little girls being so much more important than her earrings. (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I was expecting her to be...better than I am.) </span>Instead, she was being honest about her feelings. I'm sure she knew that she should've been happy to give those earrings away, but she just wasn't. By the end of the evening, I had told her to just give me the earrings; that I would give them away, and replace them for her when we got home. I was less than compassionate. (I would love to be able to make excuses for myself now, and say that <i>I</i> was also tired, hungry, stressed, and away from my safe places, but then again, I am not 13 by a long shot. I knew better.)<br />
<br />
Morning came, and with it, of course....His mercies. R had (figuratively) unclasped her fist from around those earrings. She really didn't say anything to me other than to tell me that she would give them away. And she did. It wasn't until two weeks later, after we were home, that she told me that she had found joy in giving them away. That God had changed her heart. And He changed mine, too. Because that day was a bit of a turning point for both of us. When her dad (unaware of this whole ugly story) asked her to share with him one thing God had taught her through this trip, her response was, "I learned not to hold onto my stuff." That might sound small, but it's not. It's an area where her heart is vulnerable, and we knew it, and she knew it. And her Father, out of committed love for her, put her in a painful position in order to expose it to her more fully and start healing her...making her stronger. And as for me...I will be processing for a long while all of the things God showed me about myself on that trip. But what I will share now is just what He taught me about my daughter. That God is using her to make me better. That her raw honestly, in clinging on to those little pairs of earrings, showed me a reflection of my own heart as I so often cling to things that can never satisfy me, while I miss out on the joy of just laying them down and running to Him. But since I'm not 13, I have developed the finesse to hide my own selfishness much better than she can hide hers...sometimes I even fool myself. She is honest. She is full of sin and struggle and uncertainty about who she is and who God is. She is beautiful, and showing me that I am beautiful to my Father, even as I fall and get up and fall again. And since I am an imperfect mom, and so often fail even in helping her as she falls and struggles to get up again, I am so thankful that <i>her</i> Father is there for her.<br />
<br />
So this is the verse that came to my heart this morning. Matthew 13:44: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="woj" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">"</span><span class="woj" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">The kingdom of heaven<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 0.65em;"><sup class="xref" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-23583BM" title="See cross-reference BM">BM</a>)"></sup></span> is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 0.65em;"><sup class="xref" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-23583BN" title="See cross-reference BN">BN</a>)"></sup></span> he goes and sells all that he has and<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 0.65em;"><sup class="xref" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-23583BO" title="See cross-reference BO">BO</a>)"></sup></span> buys that field."</span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="woj" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm so thankful that those earrings are in Ethiopia right now. And just maybe, they were a down payment on a treasure. Hidden in a field. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>What can I give Him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;. If I were a wiseman, I would do my part; Yet what I can I give Him; give my heart. </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Christina Rosetti</i></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-765121791713960103.post-81808190491567462092011-12-05T09:02:00.001-05:002011-12-05T13:55:14.783-05:00What they don't know won't hurt themIt is Monday morning.<br />
<br />
The six of them are sitting around the breakfast table, eating rice pudding. The announcement of rice pudding for breakfast (instead of oatmeal) was greeted with cheers, and I'm thinking that they may perceive that I am in particularly good spirits to have cooked up this treat for them. What they don't know is that I'm not. They don't know that their breakfast banter is grating on me this morning. They don't know that yesterday was a really hard day for me, and that I woke up still in a bad mood this morning. I'm irritable. I. am. not. in. the. mood. I would rather have pulled the covers over my head than greeted them and fixed breakfast. And yes, I got up early, opened my Bible, read and prayed (but didn't ever <i>feel</i> like it...even by the end).<br />
<br />
But...I know that I can keep fooling them for a little while longer. If I can just control my tongue...keep saying silly little things to them about St. Nicholas day coming tomorrow, and how if they leave their shoes in the hall tonight we'll put donuts in them. <br />
<br />
Keep returning their hugs. Hugging back hard and never being the first one to let go...even though I have to take a deep breath and force it. Keep smiling. Keep the Christmas music playing loud, and stir up the dough for gingerbread men. <br />
<br />
Because here's the wonderful truth behind this tiny deceit: If I can hold on, and put one foot in front of the other in obedience, even if I don't feel like it...I know that soon (very soon), the One who removes my sins as far as the east is from the west will likely make <i>me</i> forget that my heart isn't really in it. And then my heart really <i>will</i> be in it. I think I'm starting to feel it already...<br />
<br />
He is so good.<br />
<br />
(Postscript: I added this later, because shortly after writing this post, the Casting Crowns CD we were listening to played a song that just...fit. Here it is. Enjoy.)<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/B2e4nIIMN1I" width="420"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0