I love to sleep. So it's no surprise really that I created a kiddo that loves to sleep too. And I probably did take for granted how quickly and easily she started sleeping through the night; with only a handful of exceptions, she's gotten a consistent, unbroken 9-10 hours of sleep every night since she was 10 weeks old. Before you hate on me, though, keep in mind I have another one coming in a few months....and I hear they are never the same. ;)
On the spiritual side, I do think it's interesting that God created us to sleep. His Word tells us that He created us in His image, yet also tells us that He never slumbers nor sleeps. Of all the things He chose to make us "human," I wonder why sleep was important to Him. I wonder why He felt the need to create the concept of "sleep."
Whatever the reasons, it's obvious that we DO need it. And that we suffer without it. And that we can choose to honor God with it in the same way we can choose to honor God with other daily activities (eating, drinking, working, playing, etc). D.A. Carson says:
"Doubt may be fostered by sleep deprivation. If you keep burning the candle at both ends, sooner or later you will indulge in more and more mean cynicism—and the line between cynicism and doubt is a very thin one. Of course, different individuals require different numbers of hours of sleep: moreover, some cope with a bit of tiredness better than others. Nevertheless, if you are among those who become nasty, cynical, or even full of doubt when you are missing your sleep, you are morally obligated to try to get the sleep you need. We are whole, complicated beings; our physical existence is tied to our spiritual well-being, to our mental outlook, to our relationships with others, including our relationship with God. Sometimes the godliest thing you can do in the universe is get a good night’s sleep—not pray all night, but sleep. I’m certainly not denying that there may be a place for praying all night; I’m merely insisting that in the normal course of things, spiritual discipline obligates you get the sleep your body need. (Scandalous, 147)
Monday, April 30, 2012
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Sister love.
I'm pretty sure E's already in love with her little sister. She asks about her, waves at her (at my belly), kisses her (my belly), has named some of her stuffed animals after her, and continuously asks if it's summer yet (since that's her only concept of the time frame for when N will arrive). I even walked into her room one night to find her up and out of bed, doing something I couldn't see because her back was turned. When I started to raise my voice with a stern reminder, "E, why are you out of bed...," she moved out of the way and I realized she was tucking one of her very special blankies around a doll she had placed in the other twin bed in her room. "But mom, the baby was crying so I had to give her one of my blankies." Heart...melted.
I know it won't be all (or even mostly) kisses and hugs around here, but I am looking forward to seeing my big girl interact with her little sis, and already scheming on if there's a right way to parent so that they can one day truly be best friends.
This same sweet bond has caused me probably the most apprehension about this pregnancy though. E talks rather frequently about the brother and sister that she has in heaven, and even announced to me one day in the car as we were driving, "You know my brother and sister in heaven, mama? One day God is going to give us our brother and sister back and we are going to see them and hold them and love them." What goes on in their little hearts and minds is truly amazing sometimes.
In fact, though I've held a lot of anxiety in my heart about this pregnancy, there's only been a few days that I've "lost it" and just cried my heart out before the Lord. And one of those days was a moment where I just simply broke down and begged the Lord not to take another sibling away from my little E. Because both of my previous pregnancies had progressed so far, she was already aware that I was pregnant and we had already talked about her being a "big sister." Though, maybe because of age or the Lord's good grace, she never really bonded to her brother or sister in my belly those times. But this time around - whether because she's older or because she's more sensitive to the fragility of it all or both - she's been so interested, so bonded, so quickly. And part of my fear for this pregnancy has been for how it will mark her and shape her understanding of the Lord if things don't "work out" the way she hopes and dreams.
But it definitely helped to admit that to the Lord and to myself that day, and I have started to trust a little more each day in N's future. And this past Thursday, when we went to the midwife clinic, I experienced another little moment between two sisters that I will cherish. When it came time for the midwife to measure my belly and listen to the heartbeat, she turned to E, "Want to help me measure your baby sister and find her heartbeat?" E perked up and they pulled a chair over to the table where I was sitting so that E could stand at the right level. The midwife assisted E in stretching out the tape over my belly, measuring my size in cm, and then comparing it to the circumference of E's head just for fun. Then she handed E the bottle of gel and E squeezed so gel onto the dopplar wand. Hand over hand, the midwife helped E place the wand on the right spot on my belly, and the heartbeat (and E's face) came to life. "There's your baby sister's heartbeat," the midwife said. E responded with a giggle and N with a kick. Me - my heart simply overflowed as I tried to blink back the tears.
I know it won't be all (or even mostly) kisses and hugs around here, but I am looking forward to seeing my big girl interact with her little sis, and already scheming on if there's a right way to parent so that they can one day truly be best friends.
This same sweet bond has caused me probably the most apprehension about this pregnancy though. E talks rather frequently about the brother and sister that she has in heaven, and even announced to me one day in the car as we were driving, "You know my brother and sister in heaven, mama? One day God is going to give us our brother and sister back and we are going to see them and hold them and love them." What goes on in their little hearts and minds is truly amazing sometimes.
In fact, though I've held a lot of anxiety in my heart about this pregnancy, there's only been a few days that I've "lost it" and just cried my heart out before the Lord. And one of those days was a moment where I just simply broke down and begged the Lord not to take another sibling away from my little E. Because both of my previous pregnancies had progressed so far, she was already aware that I was pregnant and we had already talked about her being a "big sister." Though, maybe because of age or the Lord's good grace, she never really bonded to her brother or sister in my belly those times. But this time around - whether because she's older or because she's more sensitive to the fragility of it all or both - she's been so interested, so bonded, so quickly. And part of my fear for this pregnancy has been for how it will mark her and shape her understanding of the Lord if things don't "work out" the way she hopes and dreams.
But it definitely helped to admit that to the Lord and to myself that day, and I have started to trust a little more each day in N's future. And this past Thursday, when we went to the midwife clinic, I experienced another little moment between two sisters that I will cherish. When it came time for the midwife to measure my belly and listen to the heartbeat, she turned to E, "Want to help me measure your baby sister and find her heartbeat?" E perked up and they pulled a chair over to the table where I was sitting so that E could stand at the right level. The midwife assisted E in stretching out the tape over my belly, measuring my size in cm, and then comparing it to the circumference of E's head just for fun. Then she handed E the bottle of gel and E squeezed so gel onto the dopplar wand. Hand over hand, the midwife helped E place the wand on the right spot on my belly, and the heartbeat (and E's face) came to life. "There's your baby sister's heartbeat," the midwife said. E responded with a giggle and N with a kick. Me - my heart simply overflowed as I tried to blink back the tears.
Friday, April 27, 2012
The Doctors.
In all honesty, when I first found out we were expecting little N, I wasn't exactly thrilled. It's not that I was opposed to the idea of being pregnant again, my heart just was not ready. I had just recently had a miscarriage with no known causes or reasons - my second time having a 2nd-trimester miscarriage - and I was still being tossed around by the idea of a God that would choose to take not just one but two seemingly perfectly healthy babies onto heaven when - in my opinion - they would've had a pretty decent life here on earth (I know that sounds so arrogant (it is), but it's honestly one of the things I struggled with the most).
My mothering instincts kicked in quickly though, regardless of whether my heart was going to engage or not. I scheduled an appointment with yet another OB, hoping this time that someone would give me an answer to why I could so easily get pregnant but not carry a baby to term - this fact alone was becoming maddening.
My first visit with the new OB proved she wasn't for me, though. I'm sure she was truly great in her field, but I was looking for answers and she just wanted me to trust that she could take care of me without filling me in on all the details and allowing me to bring my questions and thoughts and limited research to the table. Probably a great way to run a practice (she IS the expert), but this girl was having a hard enough time trusting GOD - much less a human.
On the advice of agood great friend, I ended up at a midwife clinic about an hour and a half away - definitely a haul but totally worth it so far. They ended up referring me to a specialist and it was there that I finally started to get some (earthly) answers regarding the source of my prenatal issues. The bottom line is that I have some genetic predispositions plus some acute immunodeficiency responses that are combining to make my womb a difficult place for a baby to thrive. There are some medical interventions that the specialist recommended that we are currently following that has seemed so far to allow me to continue unhindered with this pregnancy. But the funny/interesting part is that many of these issues, because they are genetic, were present when I was pregnant with E as well, and I never had any problems at all with her pregnancy. Which wraps back around to God's sovereignty and omnipotence in all things, leaving me thankful for modern medicine but ultimately completely dependent on the grace and mercy that the Lord provides to us on a daily basis regarding the future of our family (well, and all other things really).
My mothering instincts kicked in quickly though, regardless of whether my heart was going to engage or not. I scheduled an appointment with yet another OB, hoping this time that someone would give me an answer to why I could so easily get pregnant but not carry a baby to term - this fact alone was becoming maddening.
My first visit with the new OB proved she wasn't for me, though. I'm sure she was truly great in her field, but I was looking for answers and she just wanted me to trust that she could take care of me without filling me in on all the details and allowing me to bring my questions and thoughts and limited research to the table. Probably a great way to run a practice (she IS the expert), but this girl was having a hard enough time trusting GOD - much less a human.
On the advice of a
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Faith is NOT active?
"Faith means not doing something but receiving something; it means not
the earning of a reward but the acceptance of a gift. A man can never be
said to obtain a thing for himself if he obtains it by faith; indeed to
say that he does not obtain it for himself but permits another to
obtain it for him. Faith, in other words, is not active but passive; and
to say that we are saved by faith is to say that we do not save
ourselves but are saved only by the one in whom our faith is reposed;
the faith of man presupposes the sovereign grace of God." -J. Gresham Machen
I don't know about you, but I got kinda dizzy the first time through reading the above quote. So I read it again. And again.
And I kept getting stuck on the phrase "faith...is not active but passive." Wait...what? Did he really mean to say that? But I think he did.
As I look back over the past few months and consider my "faith," I must admit that I've spent a lot of time launching darts at myself for not having enough faith. But as I read the above words (and Galatians 2:16), I realize that the root is not my lack of faith but my lack of God. The places in my heart and mind that struggled with believing in His plans for me were places that I had yet to allow God to invade with His Truth. I couldn't "turn on" the faith in those areas because I cannot create faith. And acceptance of faith requires humility and submission to God's infinite grace.
Author's Note: I'm sure this is probably an oversimplification of the full spectrum of "faith." This piece of it just happened to really strike me tonight as I considered the past few months of feeling so overwhelmed by the topic of faith and my seemingly small quantity of it in regards to the specifics of God's plan for our family's future. For the full article (which justifies and explains the quote much more fully, click here.)
I don't know about you, but I got kinda dizzy the first time through reading the above quote. So I read it again. And again.
And I kept getting stuck on the phrase "faith...is not active but passive." Wait...what? Did he really mean to say that? But I think he did.
As I look back over the past few months and consider my "faith," I must admit that I've spent a lot of time launching darts at myself for not having enough faith. But as I read the above words (and Galatians 2:16), I realize that the root is not my lack of faith but my lack of God. The places in my heart and mind that struggled with believing in His plans for me were places that I had yet to allow God to invade with His Truth. I couldn't "turn on" the faith in those areas because I cannot create faith. And acceptance of faith requires humility and submission to God's infinite grace.
Author's Note: I'm sure this is probably an oversimplification of the full spectrum of "faith." This piece of it just happened to really strike me tonight as I considered the past few months of feeling so overwhelmed by the topic of faith and my seemingly small quantity of it in regards to the specifics of God's plan for our family's future. For the full article (which justifies and explains the quote much more fully, click here.)
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
We get to choose.
A few weeks back, E and I were at home coloring - one of her favorite things for us to do together. At that moment, I think we were using colored pencils, which are of short supply in our house, so we were having to share a few select colors. As I finished with one and was headed for another, she reached down and grabbed two of them, holding them up to me.
"Mama, do you want the red pencil or the blue pencil this time."
"Hmm, I think I'll take the blue one."
Handing me the red one, she replied, "No, I want the blue one so you can have the red one first."
Because I'm her mama, I honestly could not have cared less which one I ended up with and was happy for her to use the blue one if that's the one she wanted. But, since there are rare opportunities for me to navigate appropriate "peer" interactions with her, and this was a situation that - if I had been a peer and she had offered me a choice and then didn't allow me to have what I requested - might cause some tension, I opted for a little instruction in social etiquette.
"Well, E - now that wasn't very nice. You offered me a choice between the red pencil and the blue pencil, and I chose the blue pencil. So the nice thing for you to do was to give me the blue pencil because that's the one I wanted when you asked."
And without skipping a beat (or taking a breath), she responded, "Well, mommy, sometimes we don't always get what we want. And when we don't get what we want, we don't pitch a fit. We just have to 'choose' our mind to have a good attitude. Because we get to choose whether we have a good attitude or a bad attitude, and Jesus wants you to choose to have a good attitude because that makes Jesus happy when we choose to have a good attitude. So you can be happy mama. And you'll get your turn with the blue pencil in a minute."
Yep, I know. I'm in trouble.
"Mama, do you want the red pencil or the blue pencil this time."
"Hmm, I think I'll take the blue one."
Handing me the red one, she replied, "No, I want the blue one so you can have the red one first."
Because I'm her mama, I honestly could not have cared less which one I ended up with and was happy for her to use the blue one if that's the one she wanted. But, since there are rare opportunities for me to navigate appropriate "peer" interactions with her, and this was a situation that - if I had been a peer and she had offered me a choice and then didn't allow me to have what I requested - might cause some tension, I opted for a little instruction in social etiquette.
"Well, E - now that wasn't very nice. You offered me a choice between the red pencil and the blue pencil, and I chose the blue pencil. So the nice thing for you to do was to give me the blue pencil because that's the one I wanted when you asked."
And without skipping a beat (or taking a breath), she responded, "Well, mommy, sometimes we don't always get what we want. And when we don't get what we want, we don't pitch a fit. We just have to 'choose' our mind to have a good attitude. Because we get to choose whether we have a good attitude or a bad attitude, and Jesus wants you to choose to have a good attitude because that makes Jesus happy when we choose to have a good attitude. So you can be happy mama. And you'll get your turn with the blue pencil in a minute."
Yep, I know. I'm in trouble.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
The lawn care issue in our marriage - Part 2.
You might ask: "So, J, if you really wanted the lawn mowed at a certain point in time, and you didn't want to pay someone to do it, then why didn't you just mow the lawn yourself?"
I'm so glad you asked that question. Really.
Try as I may, I'm a learned behaviorist at heart and (without Jesus) I tend to work off a natural worldview of "fairness." And in regards to chores, what's fair is that you take care of what you are supposed to be taking care of. Like I mentioned yesterday in regards to my thought-life about it all a few weeks back: "It's supposed to be your job anyway." Period.
So when I get to the fork in the road where I realize that either I can ask/nag/wait to see if L will take care of mowing the lawn, or I can take care of it myself, I start playing by "Love and Logic" rules.
If I mow the lawn, it will take me about 2 hours. Do I have an extra 2 hours in my day?
I don't actually have an extra 2 hours just laying around. But I could sacrifice some other things in order to maybe find 2 hours that I could use to take care of this chore he's obviously not tending to.
But what would I sacrifice??
Nobody gets hurt.......except for the fact that I've given the devil one little foothold, one little way to squeeze into our marriage. One little opportunity that he can then turn into a thousand other opportunities to deceive and destroy. As Paul puts it:
So, in spite of all the issues we DO have in our marriage concerning lawn care (taking out the trash, etc., etc.), I am thankful that the Lord has helped us (me) along in this one area by giving me the grace to confess my bitterness to Him and to my husband and start with a fresh opportunity today to try to love him and serve him better.
I'm so glad you asked that question. Really.
Try as I may, I'm a learned behaviorist at heart and (without Jesus) I tend to work off a natural worldview of "fairness." And in regards to chores, what's fair is that you take care of what you are supposed to be taking care of. Like I mentioned yesterday in regards to my thought-life about it all a few weeks back: "It's supposed to be your job anyway." Period.
So when I get to the fork in the road where I realize that either I can ask/nag/wait to see if L will take care of mowing the lawn, or I can take care of it myself, I start playing by "Love and Logic" rules.
If I mow the lawn, it will take me about 2 hours. Do I have an extra 2 hours in my day?
I don't actually have an extra 2 hours just laying around. But I could sacrifice some other things in order to maybe find 2 hours that I could use to take care of this chore he's obviously not tending to.
But what would I sacrifice??
'Me' time? Definitely not.And which option do I choose? The passive aggressive one, of course. The one where I get to throw as many punches as possible without messing up my hair or breaking a nail. The one where "nobody" gets hurt.
Blogging time? Nope.
Time with E? Not a chance.
Other chores - dishwashing, laundry, picking up, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom? Maybe - but then if he doesn't do those I will just have to find another time of the day/evening/middle of the night to do those things too.
Time with him? Now that's an idea.....hmmmm....I mean, I'm going to be frustrated with him anyway because I'm doing his chore. Maybe I'll just postpone my "me" time or my blogging time until tonight - when we usually try to spend some time together. That way, when he asks whether or not we can watch a movie together, I get to kill two birds with one stone: "Oh....soooo sorry babe. I wish we could! But I didn't get a chance to do x-y-z today because the lawn really needed to be mowed. Oh - but I didn't mind! I was happy to do it for you. I just can't spend time with you now because I have to take care of these other things. Oh, I promise I'm not mad. I know you'll take care of it sooner next time. Mmm-hmmm. Love you too. Good Night.
Nobody gets hurt.......except for the fact that I've given the devil one little foothold, one little way to squeeze into our marriage. One little opportunity that he can then turn into a thousand other opportunities to deceive and destroy. As Paul puts it:
"Therefore, having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another. Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil...Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you." -Ephesians 4:25-27;31-32Mark Driscoll further explains this passage in one of his sermons by talking about the progression that Paul lays out in verses 31-32: how bitterness, when it takes root in your heart, leads to wrath. How wrath grows into anger. How anger swells up and produces clamor. How clamor ends up slandering anothers' reputation. And finally ends in malice - the worst kinds of evil you can imagine. All because that seed of bitterness went unchecked and unconfessed and unforgiven. It seems little and insignificant and can even seem "fair" in the moment, but it's not biblical, it's not good.
So, in spite of all the issues we DO have in our marriage concerning lawn care (taking out the trash, etc., etc.), I am thankful that the Lord has helped us (me) along in this one area by giving me the grace to confess my bitterness to Him and to my husband and start with a fresh opportunity today to try to love him and serve him better.
Monday, April 23, 2012
The lawn care issue in our marriage - Part 1.
I've been thinking a lot about the whole "lawn care" issue in our
marriage, and after talking with a friend about it this morning, decided
I had some good ol' blogging (aka confession) to do about it. Over the weekend, what my blogging friends got was (maybe?) a nice little laugh after
reading a pretty heavy/serious blog about how wonderful (truly wonderful) my
husband is. What really went on behind the scenes is this:
And since the truth is what reminds us of our need for Jesus, what causes us to run to him for salvation and grace and mercy and peace and freedom from this crappy load of baggage that we carry in our hearts, our marriages, our friendships, our parenting each and every day.....the TRUTH is what I will cling to. Because the truth is that Jesus' blood covers my multitude of sins - but He can't do that unless I turn to him, confess, and believe He loves me and that He is willing and able to spread His garment over me and present me blameless and holy before the Father.
So I'm in the process of doing some confession about the above issues today. Tomorrow I will let you peak behind the scenes for a little more of the sinfulness I struggle with in regards to chores within our marriage. Just in case you bought the lie at any point in time that all people are born basically good. Ha.
(Stay tuned for Part 2...)
- 3 weekends ago, hubby mowed the lawn
(Yay, thanks hubby! :) - 2 weekends ago, it rained and schedule-wise, it just didn't work out for hubby to mow the lawn
(Oh, it's okay hubby - I know it was a busy weekend and you will get to it when you can. Wouldn't have wanted you to trade the little time we had together in order to do yardwork. Totally understand.) - Last weekend, hubby was gone from Friday afternoon until Sunday night and didn't have a chance to mow the lawn
(I know you were gone all weekend spending some much-needed time with your dad and brother, so I'm going to overlook the fact that our grass really needed to be cut this weekend. But I made a mental note to start dropping subtle hints that maybe you should try to figure out a time to get it in as soon as possible. I'm trying not to act frustrated about it. I thought about hiring a kid I know to do it, but decided I didn't want to figure out how to make it fit our budget this month, and it's supposed to be your job anyway. Grrrr. Repeat to myself that I'm trying not to act frustrated about it. But I also made another mental note to try to avoid having people over to the house until it's done.) - This past Thursday, my parents come to visit - my mom visits for the
first time in two months because she's been drowning in taxes for the
past four months.
(Ugh. I'm sure my parents are thinking before they even make it into the driveway - "How difficult is it to keep the lawn mowed?"FrustratedEmbarrassed about the condition of my lawn. I made another mental note to be more direct with you about mowing the lawn this weekend. - Friday night date night.
(Hmmm....wonder if I could get away with asking you to mow the lawn instead of taking me out on a date?) - Saturday morning. Raining.
(Ughhhhh..........) - Saturday night: And the "Passive Aggressive Award of the Year" goes to.......Yours Truly.
(Strategy: Write a really great blog about how awesome you are, followed by a quick little sarcastic jab at the end - meant mostly for humor - but also to once-and-for-all direct everyone's attention to the fact that MY LAWN REALLY NEEDS TO BE MOWEDTODAYYESTERDAYLAST WEEKTWO WEEKS AGO!!!
And since the truth is what reminds us of our need for Jesus, what causes us to run to him for salvation and grace and mercy and peace and freedom from this crappy load of baggage that we carry in our hearts, our marriages, our friendships, our parenting each and every day.....the TRUTH is what I will cling to. Because the truth is that Jesus' blood covers my multitude of sins - but He can't do that unless I turn to him, confess, and believe He loves me and that He is willing and able to spread His garment over me and present me blameless and holy before the Father.
So I'm in the process of doing some confession about the above issues today. Tomorrow I will let you peak behind the scenes for a little more of the sinfulness I struggle with in regards to chores within our marriage. Just in case you bought the lie at any point in time that all people are born basically good. Ha.
(Stay tuned for Part 2...)
Sunday, April 22, 2012
A picture says a thousand words.
 |
| I really wasn't going for the passive aggressive move....really........ (But thanks for mowing the lawn, babe ;) |
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Our church.
Because there are no perfect people, and because churches are made up of these imperfect people, it's pretty easy to deduce that there are really no "perfect" churches (On a random political note, I also must similarly argue that since 98% of Americans carry a certain amount of debt, and the majority of those are increasing the amount of debt they carry each month, and since America is made up of Americans, all the talk about reducing America's debt doesn't really make any sense to me if government isn't doing anything to encourage Americans to reduce their personal debt...which they are not and are actually doing quite the opposite. Okay, political rant over.) Back to churches.
So even though our church isn't perfect, I am so thankful that the Lord led our family there several years ago. And one of the things I am learning to really love and appreciate about it is how "men"-focused it is. That probably sounds a little strange, but I have found such peace in knowing that my husband is being strongly challenged and strongly led by the leadership and worship and teaching at our church.
Sure, it's tough some Sundays when most of the worship songs are led in a key that's meant for a man's range; but if you look around, what you will notice is that men are actually singing and women are still singing too - the women are just finding a harmonious part instead. If men can't hit the melody, more times than not they just don't sing. If women can't sing the melody, they harmonize - it's what we naturally do anyway and it's not so odd for us to do it in worship either.
When M gives a challenge from the pulpit, 9 times out of 10 it is directly aimed at the men of our church. And though at first I sometimes had difficulty figuring out what that meant for me, I certainly haven't minded that my husband has stepped up and led our family with a greater sense of "biblical manhood," leaving me with more security in my husband's role and less of a desire to control things in our home.
I know I'm teetering on the edge of offending the feminists in the room. Though a discussion of proper church roles and church function isn't really where I'm headed here, I won't deny that our church is quite "conservative" (to be fair - they would call it "biblical") in their views on this matter. My goal here isn't to outright offend anyone. It's just to say with absolute honesty and conviction that after being in our church for three years now and noticing the man of God that my husband is becoming and realizing (through conversations with him and also just my own observations) that he is being discipled and trained and equipped through the work of our church, I am not personally offended that our church caters to biblical masculinity. I am thankful.
Ephesians 5:25-28 says this:
So even though our church isn't perfect, I am so thankful that the Lord led our family there several years ago. And one of the things I am learning to really love and appreciate about it is how "men"-focused it is. That probably sounds a little strange, but I have found such peace in knowing that my husband is being strongly challenged and strongly led by the leadership and worship and teaching at our church.
Sure, it's tough some Sundays when most of the worship songs are led in a key that's meant for a man's range; but if you look around, what you will notice is that men are actually singing and women are still singing too - the women are just finding a harmonious part instead. If men can't hit the melody, more times than not they just don't sing. If women can't sing the melody, they harmonize - it's what we naturally do anyway and it's not so odd for us to do it in worship either.
When M gives a challenge from the pulpit, 9 times out of 10 it is directly aimed at the men of our church. And though at first I sometimes had difficulty figuring out what that meant for me, I certainly haven't minded that my husband has stepped up and led our family with a greater sense of "biblical manhood," leaving me with more security in my husband's role and less of a desire to control things in our home.
I know I'm teetering on the edge of offending the feminists in the room. Though a discussion of proper church roles and church function isn't really where I'm headed here, I won't deny that our church is quite "conservative" (to be fair - they would call it "biblical") in their views on this matter. My goal here isn't to outright offend anyone. It's just to say with absolute honesty and conviction that after being in our church for three years now and noticing the man of God that my husband is becoming and realizing (through conversations with him and also just my own observations) that he is being discipled and trained and equipped through the work of our church, I am not personally offended that our church caters to biblical masculinity. I am thankful.
Ephesians 5:25-28 says this:
Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies.As a man of God, my husband has a huge responsibility on his shoulders: to be Christ to me. Not that I'm off the hook by any means, but the weight of this task is enormous: "gave himself up for her," "sanctify her," "cleansed her by the washing of the water with the word," "present [her]...without spot or wrinkle," "that she might be holy and without blemish." To be Christ to me is to imitate Christ in these things - not as a substitution for Christ's work for me, but as an earthly example for all the days of our lives here on earth. I don't know about you, but I hate the task of daily reminding my husband that he should be doing these things for me (i.e., nagging). So I am thankful that we are in a church (with a pastor, elders, deacons, friends, family and other members) that are in agreeance on these things and all share a common vision of equipping the men in our church to live up - as best as humanly possible - to the task laid out for them in scripture. And thankful for a husband that desires to be like Christ to me. Yes, I am blessed. (But please don't drive by my house this weekend. Apparently Jesus never mowed the lawn ;).
Friday, April 20, 2012
A strange kind of goodness.
Today I thought a lot about how strange it must be (how strange it is) for someone who doesn't know Jesus to look in on my life and agree with the conclusions that I have made about how "good" my God is. On one hand, He has given me so many great things (even by worldly standards) that I don't deserve. On the other, because I believe the truth of the full gospel, I stand firmly by the claim that the same God Who has given me all the great and wonderful things is the same God that has wounded me deeply by allowing tragedy in my life that I never would have asked for or desired. And yet, still I make the claim that He is good - not in spite of the fact that He wounded me - but also because He wounded me. And I could dance around a million words to try and tease all that out, but it really comes down to this: until you know Him, until you have a relationship with Him, until He gives you grace from His hand and invites you into His Almighty presence and fills your heart with His love, you're not actually supposed to get it. That's why it says, "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God... (Ephesians 2:8-9). God, by the work of the Holy Spirit, brings you into the full understanding of his saving love by giving you the grace to see and understand and comprehend Him enough to love Him. We just aren't able to muster up enough faith within us to trust in Him on our own merit and understanding.
So, just a few hours after having a conversation with one of my CrossFit ladies about this very subject, I ran across this incredibly beautiful and moving song. Not that it will do any better of a job of convincing anyone that God is good, but I do agree with it and like it so much that I wanted to share it anyway.
So, just a few hours after having a conversation with one of my CrossFit ladies about this very subject, I ran across this incredibly beautiful and moving song. Not that it will do any better of a job of convincing anyone that God is good, but I do agree with it and like it so much that I wanted to share it anyway.
All this pain
I wonder if I’ll ever find my way
I wonder if my life could really change at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found
Could a garden come up from this ground at all
All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found in You
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us
You make me new, You are making me new
You make me new, You are making me new
You are making me new
Thursday, April 19, 2012
I think it may be starting to "stick."
As a parent, there are few prouder moments than the ones where your kiddo demonstrates that the things you've spent the last days/weeks/months/years teaching them are starting to "stick." Not just that they are obeying out of fear or obligation, but evidence that the values you hold are becoming values of their own, and they are living out the lessons not just in your presence and when you are watching, but even in moments where they could easily get away with anything they might otherwise desire.
We've had a few of those. :) And tonight my little girl actually made me and her daddy quite proud.
See, we've got this rule in our house that has worked for us. When E has a tough day at school with listening to her teachers first time (she's got this passive aggressive, slow-to-action, type of disobedience that will make you C-R-A-Z-Y...), or if she's had to sit in the time-out chair for any reason, she must come home and immediately bring me her doggies and blankies (aka, most prized possessions), and they stay in my room on my dresser until the end of the next school day when we wait to see if the report from her teacher shows that her listening skills returned that next day. For us, this has seemed to be the best way to reinforce what's going on with her behavior at school and demonstrate to her that it is important to us that she listen to, respect, and obey ALL authorities God has placed in her life - not just her parents.
So, today, we got a bad report. Actually, the teacher put it quite mildly ("Mommy, I think we need to look around at home and see if we can find E's listening ears. She seems to have lost them."); but E filled in the back story as we pulled away:
Me: "E, it makes me really sad that you didn't listen to your teachers today."
E: "I know, mommy."
Me: "Wanna tell me what happened?"
E: "Well, when we were on the playground, Ms. Amy said it was time to go inside, but I just was hanging on the bars, so they closed the door."
Me: "Oh - so you didn't go inside when they called so you got left behind."
E: "Yeah, so I had to sit in the Winnie the Pooh chair, but I didn't want to, so I sat on the floor."
Translation: I threw a big fit because they made me come inside, and was so mad about it that I flopped on the floor instead of sitting in the timeout chair where I was supposed to be sitting.
Ouch.
So....needless to say, doggies and blankies were gone....long gone for the rest of the day and night.
But tonight something happened that really surprised me. L and I were gone to a friends' house while my parents had E at home. Since I had taken doggies and blankies for the night, I decided to sneak in an opportunity to give them a bath. At some point during the night, my dad pulled them out of the dryer, all warm and cozy, excited to give them to E because he assumed she might be missing them (not having been told the story of the day). However, as soon as she saw him rounding the corner with them in his hands, the Spirit inside of her leaped right out, "No, no, no, PopPop! I can't have those. They have to stay in mommy's room because I didn't listen to my teachers today."
To hear my mom and dad tell the story tonight when I got home, my heart just overflowed. I know she loves those things, but it's obvious that she is learning to love some other truths just a little more - at least in some moments, and I'll take every moment I can get. Parenting is hard - a little like the parable that Jesus talks about with the sower and the seeds that fell on different kinds of soil (see Matthew 13). As parents, we throw our seeds out every day but - especially when they're so little - it's hard to know what takes root in their hearts. And it may be weeks, months, or even years before you harvest. Days like this - moments when God encourages you a little and gives you a glimpse of what He already knows about their hearts - are usually few and far between. And they make the hard work and the daily struggle more than worth it. Not just because I am proud of her honesty and how that reflects on me as a parent, but because I am seeing continued evidence that the Holy Spirit is at work in her heart, evidence that he is removing her heart of stone and replacing within her a heart of flesh, evidence that He is calling her to Himself and giving her the grace to listen and respond. And there is NOTHING more precious than to know she is starting to respond to the voice of her Savior.
We've had a few of those. :) And tonight my little girl actually made me and her daddy quite proud.
See, we've got this rule in our house that has worked for us. When E has a tough day at school with listening to her teachers first time (she's got this passive aggressive, slow-to-action, type of disobedience that will make you C-R-A-Z-Y...), or if she's had to sit in the time-out chair for any reason, she must come home and immediately bring me her doggies and blankies (aka, most prized possessions), and they stay in my room on my dresser until the end of the next school day when we wait to see if the report from her teacher shows that her listening skills returned that next day. For us, this has seemed to be the best way to reinforce what's going on with her behavior at school and demonstrate to her that it is important to us that she listen to, respect, and obey ALL authorities God has placed in her life - not just her parents.
So, today, we got a bad report. Actually, the teacher put it quite mildly ("Mommy, I think we need to look around at home and see if we can find E's listening ears. She seems to have lost them."); but E filled in the back story as we pulled away:
Me: "E, it makes me really sad that you didn't listen to your teachers today."
E: "I know, mommy."
Me: "Wanna tell me what happened?"
E: "Well, when we were on the playground, Ms. Amy said it was time to go inside, but I just was hanging on the bars, so they closed the door."
Me: "Oh - so you didn't go inside when they called so you got left behind."
E: "Yeah, so I had to sit in the Winnie the Pooh chair, but I didn't want to, so I sat on the floor."
Translation: I threw a big fit because they made me come inside, and was so mad about it that I flopped on the floor instead of sitting in the timeout chair where I was supposed to be sitting.
Ouch.
So....needless to say, doggies and blankies were gone....long gone for the rest of the day and night.
But tonight something happened that really surprised me. L and I were gone to a friends' house while my parents had E at home. Since I had taken doggies and blankies for the night, I decided to sneak in an opportunity to give them a bath. At some point during the night, my dad pulled them out of the dryer, all warm and cozy, excited to give them to E because he assumed she might be missing them (not having been told the story of the day). However, as soon as she saw him rounding the corner with them in his hands, the Spirit inside of her leaped right out, "No, no, no, PopPop! I can't have those. They have to stay in mommy's room because I didn't listen to my teachers today."
To hear my mom and dad tell the story tonight when I got home, my heart just overflowed. I know she loves those things, but it's obvious that she is learning to love some other truths just a little more - at least in some moments, and I'll take every moment I can get. Parenting is hard - a little like the parable that Jesus talks about with the sower and the seeds that fell on different kinds of soil (see Matthew 13). As parents, we throw our seeds out every day but - especially when they're so little - it's hard to know what takes root in their hearts. And it may be weeks, months, or even years before you harvest. Days like this - moments when God encourages you a little and gives you a glimpse of what He already knows about their hearts - are usually few and far between. And they make the hard work and the daily struggle more than worth it. Not just because I am proud of her honesty and how that reflects on me as a parent, but because I am seeing continued evidence that the Holy Spirit is at work in her heart, evidence that he is removing her heart of stone and replacing within her a heart of flesh, evidence that He is calling her to Himself and giving her the grace to listen and respond. And there is NOTHING more precious than to know she is starting to respond to the voice of her Savior.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Norah Jane.
So, for all the things I have said about the most recent struggles and dealings with this pregnancy - one thing I haven't said (at least not enough) is that I am truly, with heartfelt sincerity, excited about meeting our little one in August. To date, I am 23 weeks + 3 days - almost ten weeks farther along in pregnancy than I have been since my (completely uncomplicated and rather uneventful) pregnancy with E. So in some senses, I'm definitely feeling more secure about the expected outcome of this pregnancy, especially with the growing number and intensity of kicks I'm feeling each day. :)
After finding out that we were having another girl, we settled in pretty quickly on a name. The name "Norah" has always been in our pocket - we've loved it for a long time so no questions there. We threw around a few middle names, but for some reason kept coming back to "Jane" as the front runner. After a quick babynames search revealed the meaning - "God is gracious" - we knew we were set, and she has been "Norah Jane" ever since.
I certainly have my regrets for not fully celebrating and enjoying this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to bond with Norah in the womb, but I really do believe that on most days I have at least done my best to care for her physically even when emotionally and spiritually I have struggled. Even more than ever, though - I look forward to the day when I can share with her the story of her life and the miracles God did to bring her into this world - and how incredibly special her life is simply because He is the One who spoke it into being.
After finding out that we were having another girl, we settled in pretty quickly on a name. The name "Norah" has always been in our pocket - we've loved it for a long time so no questions there. We threw around a few middle names, but for some reason kept coming back to "Jane" as the front runner. After a quick babynames search revealed the meaning - "God is gracious" - we knew we were set, and she has been "Norah Jane" ever since.
I certainly have my regrets for not fully celebrating and enjoying this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to bond with Norah in the womb, but I really do believe that on most days I have at least done my best to care for her physically even when emotionally and spiritually I have struggled. Even more than ever, though - I look forward to the day when I can share with her the story of her life and the miracles God did to bring her into this world - and how incredibly special her life is simply because He is the One who spoke it into being.
 |
| "Fearfully and wonderfully made..." -Psalm 139:14 |
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Personality - oh, is that what you call this?
The older E gets, the more comments I get about her having a lot of "personality." Truth be told, I'm not sure it's always a compliment, but I usually take it as one anyway. I'm thankful for the little person she is and the one she's becoming.....most days. ;) But as I flipped back through a few of the more recent videos and pictures that I've snapped of her on my phone, I have to admit - personality or whatever you want to call it, she's got it.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Hope
Being pregnant this time around has been tough. Though God certainly worked in my life to shape me, change me, and renew me as he led me through the wilderness, He also opened up brokenness in other pieces of my heart. Figuring out what to "hope for" has been extremely difficult.
The old me would have flipped my Bible open to Hebrews 11:1 and given myself a good, holy pep-talk on how God was just waiting for me to show some real faith before He could show up and do some truly God-sized work in my life to prove to others His faithfulness and goodness in all things. However the new me realized that He had already been faithful, that He already was good, and the reason He inspired the penning of Hebrews 11:1 had NOTHING to do with whether or not I was going to carry this baby to term.
My hope is now (prayerfully) placed in my eternal salvation, regardless of my current circumstances, but the daily walking out of my faith has been such a struggle, knowing that He was good on the day He brought E into our lives as a healthy little 7-lb bundle of joy and also good on the day I placed my finger into the tiny hand of our little Jeremiah. And this goodness is not defined by whether or not life is fair, whether or not I'm getting what I deserved, whether or not the cards I've been dealt look particularly advantageous. It's good because He knows what I need, good because He loves me and desires the best for me, good because His view is eternity and He has granted me full access to Him for all of it.
(Warning: This is a stupid analogy, but it's the best I can come up with at the moment.) It's kind of like the difference in perspective that I and Elle have when she asks for a piece of candy. Sometimes I say yes and sometimes I say no, based on my ability to weigh and calculate the answers to a series of questions - How many sweets has she had today? What are the chances that she will have dessert tonight after dinner? How is her mood? Has she been sick? Her immature thinking may lead her to think I'm not good to her if I don't give her a piece of candy, but the truth is that I love to give her things that make her happy - but only with the bigger picture of her overall health in mind. Likewise (re-read above warning), God loves to give His children things that make us happy - only with the bigger picture in mind of our overall salvation and justification in the even greater metanarrative of redeeming the whole world to Himself.
So this pregnancy has been rather difficult as I have grown to learn that God's "best" and God's "goodness" and God's "love and mercy" toward me doesn't always match up with my (or others') estimation of what seems fair or what I might deserve or what God will or will not do for me if I "ask in His name" and have a particular amount of faith. I have tasted that God's goodness could lead to many different outcomes that I may or may not particularly like, and it's led to a struggle for joy on some days as I worry (obsess) over the small things that I imagine are under my control that could potentially lead to a positive or negative pregnancy outcome - Did I workout too much today? Did I eat too many sweets? What about the preservatives in that soup? Should I be handling these cleaners? Should we be installing carpet? Am I getting enough sleep? Should I be carrying E around? Why does my _________ hurt? Because I've felt so out of control of the greater outcome, I've gone to battle daily with control issues regarding the menial things - and confessing my sin of control with one while in the midst of engaging in sin with another. The short of it is that most days, I am just simply looking forward to the end of this pregnancy rather than being able to truly enjoy the process of it.
And throughout it all - on the advice of my dear friend C, I have run to the Psalms. As she put it, "the psalms are so comforting because they express the highest and the lowest of emotions and remind us that we are not the first believers to try to navigate Who God is in the midst of it all." And this past Sunday, as one of our deacons read from Psalm 40, I was comforted once again by David and reminded that part of the reason for my journey is to confess and share with others so that God can also encourage and uplift those around me who are on similar journeys.
The old me would have flipped my Bible open to Hebrews 11:1 and given myself a good, holy pep-talk on how God was just waiting for me to show some real faith before He could show up and do some truly God-sized work in my life to prove to others His faithfulness and goodness in all things. However the new me realized that He had already been faithful, that He already was good, and the reason He inspired the penning of Hebrews 11:1 had NOTHING to do with whether or not I was going to carry this baby to term.
My hope is now (prayerfully) placed in my eternal salvation, regardless of my current circumstances, but the daily walking out of my faith has been such a struggle, knowing that He was good on the day He brought E into our lives as a healthy little 7-lb bundle of joy and also good on the day I placed my finger into the tiny hand of our little Jeremiah. And this goodness is not defined by whether or not life is fair, whether or not I'm getting what I deserved, whether or not the cards I've been dealt look particularly advantageous. It's good because He knows what I need, good because He loves me and desires the best for me, good because His view is eternity and He has granted me full access to Him for all of it.
(Warning: This is a stupid analogy, but it's the best I can come up with at the moment.) It's kind of like the difference in perspective that I and Elle have when she asks for a piece of candy. Sometimes I say yes and sometimes I say no, based on my ability to weigh and calculate the answers to a series of questions - How many sweets has she had today? What are the chances that she will have dessert tonight after dinner? How is her mood? Has she been sick? Her immature thinking may lead her to think I'm not good to her if I don't give her a piece of candy, but the truth is that I love to give her things that make her happy - but only with the bigger picture of her overall health in mind. Likewise (re-read above warning), God loves to give His children things that make us happy - only with the bigger picture in mind of our overall salvation and justification in the even greater metanarrative of redeeming the whole world to Himself.
So this pregnancy has been rather difficult as I have grown to learn that God's "best" and God's "goodness" and God's "love and mercy" toward me doesn't always match up with my (or others') estimation of what seems fair or what I might deserve or what God will or will not do for me if I "ask in His name" and have a particular amount of faith. I have tasted that God's goodness could lead to many different outcomes that I may or may not particularly like, and it's led to a struggle for joy on some days as I worry (obsess) over the small things that I imagine are under my control that could potentially lead to a positive or negative pregnancy outcome - Did I workout too much today? Did I eat too many sweets? What about the preservatives in that soup? Should I be handling these cleaners? Should we be installing carpet? Am I getting enough sleep? Should I be carrying E around? Why does my _________ hurt? Because I've felt so out of control of the greater outcome, I've gone to battle daily with control issues regarding the menial things - and confessing my sin of control with one while in the midst of engaging in sin with another. The short of it is that most days, I am just simply looking forward to the end of this pregnancy rather than being able to truly enjoy the process of it.
And throughout it all - on the advice of my dear friend C, I have run to the Psalms. As she put it, "the psalms are so comforting because they express the highest and the lowest of emotions and remind us that we are not the first believers to try to navigate Who God is in the midst of it all." And this past Sunday, as one of our deacons read from Psalm 40, I was comforted once again by David and reminded that part of the reason for my journey is to confess and share with others so that God can also encourage and uplift those around me who are on similar journeys.
I waited patiently for the Lord;
he inclined to me and heard my cry.
He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear,
and put their trust in the Lord.
I have not hidden your deliverance within my heart;
I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation;
I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness
from the great congregation.
Psalm 40:1-3,10
Sunday, April 15, 2012
To war. Over a taco.
This weekend L has been gone to his dad's house for a weekend with the boys - him, his brother and his dad. Though we definitely miss him, E and I have enjoyed some time together strawberry pickin', hanging out at friends' houses, cleaning a little, relaxing a little, and watching more than enough 'My Little Pony' videos.
Today after church, I opted for eating out, since it would seemingly help with the flow of the afternoon. As we got our order and sat down at the table, I breathed a sigh of relief - she was happy and this was a good idea.
Whether or not she's happy about it shouldn't translate into whether or not it's a good idea, the voice in my head warned. (Cue somber, foreboding music)
We carried on for a moment with lunch, I gave the usual reminder to turn around - *insert curse words against restaurant TV's here*, and without warning, she went from playful and content to pouty and disrespectful.
"But I don't want to turn around and eat. I want to watch the TV. I don't like this taco. I'm not hungry anymore." And with a quick folding of her arms, she knocked her purse (yes, I said 'her purse') on the ground. I reached down and picked it up, placing it beside me.
"E, sit down and finish your lunch," I repeated sternly. "Or we will pack it up and head home."
"But I want my purse back," she escalated. "What are you going to do with my purse??"
I responded by pushing her food closer. "You knocked it off because you are playing and not eating, so I'm going to hold it for you while you finish your lunch."
And it was on. Tears flowed, lips out, arms crossed - she was prepping for war over a freakin' taco. And - always being up for a good fight - I was happy to oblige. I moved over to her side of the booth, searching for higher ground.
"Why are you sitting beside me?" E asked.
"So I can help you eat your lunch. You seem to be having a tough time," I responded.
She let loose - head tipped back, she let out a growling scream from the pit of her being. The kind of scream where the oxygen temporarily left the room as all the parents sucked in their breaths and said a quick 'thank-you prayer' to God Almighty that it wasn't their kid this time. To be honest, it shocked (and embarrassed) me so much I let out half of a laugh before I pulled myself together and reengaged.
"Ooooo-kaaaay." I said as I started to wrap up her taco and gather the trash. "Time to go home."
Now it seems to be a universal rule among kids that as soon as parents move to make good on their threatened promise - as soon as the punishment seems real - they all (most of the time) release the reigns and forfeit.
"I'm hungry now!" she cried. "I want to eat. I don't want to go home. I want to eat. Pleeeease - I'm hungry."
Maybe every parent momentarily wonders at this fork in the road, "What do I do now? Did I make my point? Did the threatened punishment do as I had hoped and now they are submitting to my authority?" I'm even certain I've seen many parents and kids even settle back in for a nice, uneventful dinner after the peak of tension passed and the kid(s) relented.
I hesitated for a moment, but pressed on with the due consequences. She was not obeying, she had not been submitting to my authority, she had crossed the line, I had already declared that we were in fact going home, and now we just needed to make it to the car with as much dignity left as humanly possible. So, kicking, screaming, crying, whining, we somehow made it out the door and into the car.
Later on, after making it home (yes - we did make it home in one piece) and getting her in bed for a much-needed rest, I contemplated the day. Did I do the right thing? What could I have done differently to have avoided that situation? How could I have responded differently at each turn? Did I lead her into rebellion or did she choose to go there all by herself? Truthfully, the most difficult part was having to sift through the embarrassment that I felt that my kid was putting her sinful, rebellious heart on display on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in the middle of a restaurant filled with watchful eyes (many of whom were acquaintances), and likewise wondering what I had displayed to those same watchful eyes in the process. Did they think I made the right choice? What did they think I could have done differently to have avoided that situation? How do they think I could have responded differently at each turn? Did they think I led her into rebellion or that she chose to go there all by herself? To be honest, I probably gave more thought to the latter questions than the former, which is evident of my own sinful, prideful heart as well - even if they didn't see it in the restaurant.
After her nap and an opportunity for a fresh start, she gobbled up the rest of the taco. "Mommy, this is the best taco I've ever had," she said with a big smile.
Of course it is.
Today after church, I opted for eating out, since it would seemingly help with the flow of the afternoon. As we got our order and sat down at the table, I breathed a sigh of relief - she was happy and this was a good idea.
Whether or not she's happy about it shouldn't translate into whether or not it's a good idea, the voice in my head warned. (Cue somber, foreboding music)
We carried on for a moment with lunch, I gave the usual reminder to turn around - *insert curse words against restaurant TV's here*, and without warning, she went from playful and content to pouty and disrespectful.
"But I don't want to turn around and eat. I want to watch the TV. I don't like this taco. I'm not hungry anymore." And with a quick folding of her arms, she knocked her purse (yes, I said 'her purse') on the ground. I reached down and picked it up, placing it beside me.
"E, sit down and finish your lunch," I repeated sternly. "Or we will pack it up and head home."
"But I want my purse back," she escalated. "What are you going to do with my purse??"
I responded by pushing her food closer. "You knocked it off because you are playing and not eating, so I'm going to hold it for you while you finish your lunch."
And it was on. Tears flowed, lips out, arms crossed - she was prepping for war over a freakin' taco. And - always being up for a good fight - I was happy to oblige. I moved over to her side of the booth, searching for higher ground.
"Why are you sitting beside me?" E asked.
"So I can help you eat your lunch. You seem to be having a tough time," I responded.
She let loose - head tipped back, she let out a growling scream from the pit of her being. The kind of scream where the oxygen temporarily left the room as all the parents sucked in their breaths and said a quick 'thank-you prayer' to God Almighty that it wasn't their kid this time. To be honest, it shocked (and embarrassed) me so much I let out half of a laugh before I pulled myself together and reengaged.
"Ooooo-kaaaay." I said as I started to wrap up her taco and gather the trash. "Time to go home."
Now it seems to be a universal rule among kids that as soon as parents move to make good on their threatened promise - as soon as the punishment seems real - they all (most of the time) release the reigns and forfeit.
"I'm hungry now!" she cried. "I want to eat. I don't want to go home. I want to eat. Pleeeease - I'm hungry."
Maybe every parent momentarily wonders at this fork in the road, "What do I do now? Did I make my point? Did the threatened punishment do as I had hoped and now they are submitting to my authority?" I'm even certain I've seen many parents and kids even settle back in for a nice, uneventful dinner after the peak of tension passed and the kid(s) relented.
I hesitated for a moment, but pressed on with the due consequences. She was not obeying, she had not been submitting to my authority, she had crossed the line, I had already declared that we were in fact going home, and now we just needed to make it to the car with as much dignity left as humanly possible. So, kicking, screaming, crying, whining, we somehow made it out the door and into the car.
Later on, after making it home (yes - we did make it home in one piece) and getting her in bed for a much-needed rest, I contemplated the day. Did I do the right thing? What could I have done differently to have avoided that situation? How could I have responded differently at each turn? Did I lead her into rebellion or did she choose to go there all by herself? Truthfully, the most difficult part was having to sift through the embarrassment that I felt that my kid was putting her sinful, rebellious heart on display on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in the middle of a restaurant filled with watchful eyes (many of whom were acquaintances), and likewise wondering what I had displayed to those same watchful eyes in the process. Did they think I made the right choice? What did they think I could have done differently to have avoided that situation? How do they think I could have responded differently at each turn? Did they think I led her into rebellion or that she chose to go there all by herself? To be honest, I probably gave more thought to the latter questions than the former, which is evident of my own sinful, prideful heart as well - even if they didn't see it in the restaurant.
After her nap and an opportunity for a fresh start, she gobbled up the rest of the taco. "Mommy, this is the best taco I've ever had," she said with a big smile.
Of course it is.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
A praying life.
Lately I have been reading through A Praying Life, by Paul Miller. The person who recommended it to me said it was the "best Christian book he had ever read," so - even though there too many unread books at my house that I should've chosen from - I was intrigued enough to check it out.
Miller is very honest and raw as he discusses the topic of prayer, which is so refreshing to someone who often feels defeated when it comes to praying. He writes,
A few pages later he goes on to say,
On and on he goes, describing my (sinful, ugly, deceitful, and messy) heart when it comes to the issue of praying to the Father. And offering life-giving truth that reminds me and others that our loving God knows that. That's why he sent Jesus. Not so that I would get it right, but that so he could connect with me even though I get it all wrong. So that he could look upon me with love and forgiveness and grace and mercy even when I mess it all up. So that I could be face to face with him without receiving the wrath appropriate for my wretchedness. So that I could talk to Him.
"God cheers when we come to him with our wobbling, unsteady prayers. Jesus does not say, 'Come to me, all you who have learned how to concentrate in prayer, whose minds no longer wander, and I will give you rest.' No, Jesus opens his arms to his needy children and says, 'come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.' (Matt 11:28). The criteria for coming to Jesus is weariness. Come overwhelmed with life. Come with your wandering mind. Come messy."
-Paul A. Miller, A Praying Life
Miller is very honest and raw as he discusses the topic of prayer, which is so refreshing to someone who often feels defeated when it comes to praying. He writes,
"The most common frustration is the activity of praying itself. We last for about fifteen seconds, and then out of nowhere the day's to-do list pops up and our minds are off on a tangent. We catch ourselves and, by sheer force of the will, go back to praying. Before we know it, it has happened again. Instead of praying, we are doing a confused mix of wandering and worrying. Then the guilt sets in. Something must be wrong with me. Other Christians don't seem to have this trouble praying....Something is wrong with us."Wow, do I ever relate to that.
A few pages later he goes on to say,
"One of the subtlest hindrances to prayer is probably the most pervasive. In the broader culture and in our churches, we prize intellect, competency, and wealth. Because we can do life without God, praying seems nice but unnecessary. Money can do what prayer does, and it is quicker and less time-consuming. Our trust in ourselves and in our talents makes us structurally independent of God. As a result, exhortations to pray don't stick."Pegged again.
On and on he goes, describing my (sinful, ugly, deceitful, and messy) heart when it comes to the issue of praying to the Father. And offering life-giving truth that reminds me and others that our loving God knows that. That's why he sent Jesus. Not so that I would get it right, but that so he could connect with me even though I get it all wrong. So that he could look upon me with love and forgiveness and grace and mercy even when I mess it all up. So that I could be face to face with him without receiving the wrath appropriate for my wretchedness. So that I could talk to Him.
"God cheers when we come to him with our wobbling, unsteady prayers. Jesus does not say, 'Come to me, all you who have learned how to concentrate in prayer, whose minds no longer wander, and I will give you rest.' No, Jesus opens his arms to his needy children and says, 'come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.' (Matt 11:28). The criteria for coming to Jesus is weariness. Come overwhelmed with life. Come with your wandering mind. Come messy."
-Paul A. Miller, A Praying Life
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Friends.
I absolutely adore this picture of E and her two friends. I really cannot imagine that (aside from better lighting) a picture could capture the three of their personalities any more perfectly. And I am incredibly thankful for the families represented in this picture that God has allowed us to 'grow up' with the past few years - the things I have learned and the encouragement that I have received as a result of being in communion and friendship with the moms of these two girls has truly blessed me.
As a mom and a wife, it's been vital to be surrounded by other moms that are like-minded; doing their best to raise their children in the Lord and striving to be a wives that serve and respect their husbands. I've learned so much from watching them parent with forgiving tenderness at times and firm discipline at others, seeing them submit with ease one moment and with difficulty the next - knowing that at each turn we have a safety net of understanding that though we don't always get it right, we are always - in our hearts - truly wanting to become more like Christ in our roles.
Though it's probably unrealistic, I hold hope in my heart that these girls will stay in touch throughout the years. But even if they don't, I will be forever grateful for the time that we have had and will hang on to the memories they (we) make together.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
In her eyes.
And then........there's the second portrait. The one that speaks for itself with the pursed lips and the angry eyebrows. It reminds me of a conversation I had with my sister once:
K (my sister): "I love my friend S. Being friends with her has helped me to figure you out a lot."Ah, sister love.
Me: "Ooo-kaaaay. What does that mean?"
K: "I mean - now I realize that just because you look mad doesn't mean you're actually mad. I used to think you were just angry all the time, but now I realize that's usually just your 'thinking face.'"
Anyhow, I'm humored by the fact that my kiddo has picked up on my 'thinking face' as well. I'm pretty sure there's a lot better portraits out there, but these two definitely have my heart.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
We are moved.
During communion last Sunday, our pastor read aloud a quote from J. Oswald Sanders' book, Spiritual Discipleship: Principles of Following Christ for Every Believer, that really resonated with my heart in regards to what I am learning about the nature and character of this God that I claim to love and believe in:
Accepting that God's good plan for me included the loss of two of my babies is just plain hard, but I must trust His plan without wavering if I choose to believe in him. And I don't trust blindly, as if he is unpredictable and unknowable. I know exactly where He is headed with me - ultimate salvation, perfect restoration, complete perfection through the saving work of His Son Jesus Christ on the cross - I am headed for eternal glory! And the trials of this earthly journey will all one day be perfectly revealed and understood when He gives me new eyes and full understanding.
“We are moved by the act of God. Omniscience holds no conference. Infinite authority leaves no room for compromise. Eternal love offers no explanations. The LORD expects to be trusted. He disturbs us at will. Human arrangements are disregarded, family ties ignored, business claims put aside. We are never asked if it is convenient.” -Samuel ChadwickIt's a tough pill to swallow - these attributes and characters of a God who would disturb us, a God who would disregard our plans, a God who wouldn't explain where or why the storm came and when it will end. But if we submit to and desire to believe in this God of the Bible - a God who knows all things, created all things, is in control of all things, holds all things together, works all things together for ultimate good - then we submit to One who must have higher conscience and greater knowledge than we do in all things. We cannot agree to His strength and power and yet esteem Him inferior to us in thought and deed.
Accepting that God's good plan for me included the loss of two of my babies is just plain hard, but I must trust His plan without wavering if I choose to believe in him. And I don't trust blindly, as if he is unpredictable and unknowable. I know exactly where He is headed with me - ultimate salvation, perfect restoration, complete perfection through the saving work of His Son Jesus Christ on the cross - I am headed for eternal glory! And the trials of this earthly journey will all one day be perfectly revealed and understood when He gives me new eyes and full understanding.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Everything.
I will be the first one in line to admit that this past year has been hard. Not the, "Oh, life's tough, honey - saddle up and get ready for the ride" kind of hard, I think everyone gets there and feels like that from time to time. What I'm referring to is the kind of year that tests your beliefs to the core, that challenges the person you said you wanted to be, that brings out the best and the worst and the scary unknown inside of you and leaves you wondering if the world will ever be the same place again.
I will also be the first to admit that I'm not the only one who's had a hard year, and I will especially admit that my challenges have certainly not been the worst that one could ever face. But comparisons are dangerous to us humans because they stem out of our own skewed perspective of what is right and wrong with this world, of what is fair and just, of what is good and what is evil. We are the created, not the Creator; we do not define reality, we experience it.
So fast forward to today. Nothing really out of the ordinary was slated to happen today, but for some reason every moment seemed to tumble along easily. The weather was beautiful; E was in great spirits (even dressed herself for school this morning); my many morning tasks unfolded rather effortlessly with very little sense of that rushing urgency; I was feeling rather energetic (dare I say normal) for the first time in eight long months; and to top things off - E and I had a picnic lunch planned with daddy after I picked her up from school.
So there we were - sitting on the porch outside his office - E swinging and playing next to us, when a friend of ours strolled through and commented,
"I hope you know what you've got."
L and I both laughed, amused because E was doing something ridiculous that involved her dress being over her head - 'My Little Pony' underwear and grubby bare feet being the most noticeable aspect of her person at the time. "Yeah," L laughed. "We got a silly little girl."
"Everything," our friend replied very seriously. And with a slight pause in his step and a quick turnaround to take it all in, he walked inside.
Some people might have considered his words a compliment - and to be fair, I'm sure he meant them to be. For me, it was as if someone had hit me across the back of the head with a two by four. My eyes stung from the tears, my stomach knotted and churned, and everything that had once been in plain sight went a little fuzzy for a moment.
Everything? I wondered, as I tumbled back in time in my head. If he had just one clue about what this past year had been like for me, he surely wouldn't have said that.
And then that still small voice nudged me forward a little more. "So just what is your definition of "everything" then? Have I not supplied your every need this past year? Have I not met your despair with an outpouring of grace? Have I not been more than sufficient?"
It was a humbling moment to be sure - humbling that someone would look in on my life and see past the dirty dishes in the sink, the bumper falling off the front of the car, the bill that came in the mail today that has yet to be budgeted for....all the things that I look at with disdain that (by comparison - ironic? yes.) don't seem to ail the majority of people around me. But even more humbling was the realization that - even though others who have journeyed with me this past year may well agree that I have my share of things to mourn - I have an even greater share of things to rejoice in and be thankful for. God has so abundantly blessed us in spite of the hardships we have faced, and has poured out his mercy and grace so freely over me. The depth of our sadness has been trumped by the height of His goodness, and because - in spite of all that has happened - I have Him, I can honestly say: Yes. I do have everything...............AND a silly little girl :).
I will also be the first to admit that I'm not the only one who's had a hard year, and I will especially admit that my challenges have certainly not been the worst that one could ever face. But comparisons are dangerous to us humans because they stem out of our own skewed perspective of what is right and wrong with this world, of what is fair and just, of what is good and what is evil. We are the created, not the Creator; we do not define reality, we experience it.
So fast forward to today. Nothing really out of the ordinary was slated to happen today, but for some reason every moment seemed to tumble along easily. The weather was beautiful; E was in great spirits (even dressed herself for school this morning); my many morning tasks unfolded rather effortlessly with very little sense of that rushing urgency; I was feeling rather energetic (dare I say normal) for the first time in eight long months; and to top things off - E and I had a picnic lunch planned with daddy after I picked her up from school.
So there we were - sitting on the porch outside his office - E swinging and playing next to us, when a friend of ours strolled through and commented,
"I hope you know what you've got."
L and I both laughed, amused because E was doing something ridiculous that involved her dress being over her head - 'My Little Pony' underwear and grubby bare feet being the most noticeable aspect of her person at the time. "Yeah," L laughed. "We got a silly little girl."
"Everything," our friend replied very seriously. And with a slight pause in his step and a quick turnaround to take it all in, he walked inside.
Some people might have considered his words a compliment - and to be fair, I'm sure he meant them to be. For me, it was as if someone had hit me across the back of the head with a two by four. My eyes stung from the tears, my stomach knotted and churned, and everything that had once been in plain sight went a little fuzzy for a moment.
Everything? I wondered, as I tumbled back in time in my head. If he had just one clue about what this past year had been like for me, he surely wouldn't have said that.
And then that still small voice nudged me forward a little more. "So just what is your definition of "everything" then? Have I not supplied your every need this past year? Have I not met your despair with an outpouring of grace? Have I not been more than sufficient?"
It was a humbling moment to be sure - humbling that someone would look in on my life and see past the dirty dishes in the sink, the bumper falling off the front of the car, the bill that came in the mail today that has yet to be budgeted for....all the things that I look at with disdain that (by comparison - ironic? yes.) don't seem to ail the majority of people around me. But even more humbling was the realization that - even though others who have journeyed with me this past year may well agree that I have my share of things to mourn - I have an even greater share of things to rejoice in and be thankful for. God has so abundantly blessed us in spite of the hardships we have faced, and has poured out his mercy and grace so freely over me. The depth of our sadness has been trumped by the height of His goodness, and because - in spite of all that has happened - I have Him, I can honestly say: Yes. I do have everything...............AND a silly little girl :).
In every station new trials and troubles
call for more grace than I can afford
where can I go, but to my dear Savior
for mercy that pours from boundless stores.
He made a way for the fallen to rise
perfect in glory and sacrifice
in sweet communion, my need He supplies
He saves, keeps and guards my life.
To Thee I run now with great expectation,
to honor You with trust like a child
My hopes and desires seek a new destination
and all that You ask, Your grace will provide.
Grace upon grace every sin repaired
every void restored, you will find Him there
in every turning He will prepare you
with grace upon grace.
-Sandra McCracken, "Grace Upon Grace"
Sunday, April 8, 2012
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