Day 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."

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.

There's a quote from Eric Liddell (Chariots of Fire) 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.

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, "How many times have I said...", or "You know better than to be...", 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.  :)

I have one parting thought for the day.  I love Amy Carmichael, and long ago memorized a quote from her book If.  Here it is:

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.

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?

Day 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.

Does anyone else have weird birthday issues?  I like birthdays.  I like my birthday.  And I have certain ideas about how I would like my birthday to go.  Having someone sort of...forget...doesn't fit with my plan.  Now, in the someone's 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 truly 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???

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 before today!  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.

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.

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 my birthday, of all things?  What sort of unreasonable burden am I placing on him if I expect him in any way at all 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:

"And my God shall supply every need of yours according to His riches in Christ Jesus."  Philippians 4:19.

My God shall supply every need.  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.  Selfish heart...when will you learn? 

And here is the second thing that kept coming to me this morning; this verse from a song by John Newton:

When Satan appears

To stop up our path,

And fills us with fears,

We triumph by faith;

He cannot take from us,

Though oft he has tried,

The heart-cheering promise,

"The Lord will provide." 

He tells us we're weak,

Our hope is in vain;

The good that we seek

We ne'er shall obtain;

But when such suggestions

Our faith thus have tried,

This answers all questions,

"The Lord will provide." 

No strength of our own,

Nor goodness we claim;

Our trust is all thrown

On Jesus' dear name.

In this our strong tower

For safety we hide;

The Lord is our power,

"The Lord will provide." 

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."  

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.

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?

  

Day 2...a Hard Habit to Break

The 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.

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).

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 control freak.  I am the table manners Nazi.  "Sit up, please."  "Put your feet on the floor."  "Stop laying on the table."  "Ask 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 all on their own, turned those little girls bodies, and nudged their feet onto the floor.  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."

Obviously I need a little more practice at this.  We'll see what happens on Day 3.

On the upside, from my quiet time today:

"You blind Pharisee!  First clean the inside of the cup and the plate, that the outside also may be clean."  Matt. 23:26.  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 inside of my cup.  I have so much hope in that.

And this:

"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 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 not 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.

A 31 Day Fast

I have a sharp tongue.  I can be critical and judgemental.  I'm a bit of a 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 His 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 without the holes to church, choose the right restaurant for dinner...oh my...how did all of that 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 DO causes them to turn away from Christ?!?  What if my 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.

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 constructive 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).

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.

The rules:
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".

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.

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.  :)

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.

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.

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.

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.

I recently read something helpful in Paul David Tripp's War of Words.  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):

     -Be unshakably committed to wholesome talk.
     -Consider the person to whom you are talking ("...only what is helpful for building others up).
     -Consider the problem you are being called to address ("...for building others up according to their 
      need).
     -Consider the process ("...that it may benefit...give grace to....those who listen).
     -Don't let your speech hinder the Holy Spirit's work.

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.

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.

The First Day of School

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:

Yes.  That's a giant chocolate chip cookie.  

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.  :) 

An unwanted haircut and a lesson in grace (or "Driven and tossed by the wind" part 2)

I sent the following e-mail to Jim at work today:

Dear Jim,

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 knew from experience that M doesn't handle a comb well).  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?

Love,

Me

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.

 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.

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.  These are just "blips"."I am not a wave."  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 heart.  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 aware 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 need 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) "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."  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.

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 me, because the grace that's been offered to 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.  :)     

Driven 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.

As the morning passed, I quickly realized that the children were going to require my complete 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.

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.

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.

There.

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.  "Whoever believes in Me, as the scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water."  John 7:38.  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 blips.  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 "more than conquerors through Him who loved us" (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?

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.

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.  :)