Heavenly Hash

Kissing the little boys tonight before bed. Jake wanted to snuggle (as usual), and I had to apologize for the umpteenth time in a row: "Sorry, Buddy, not til you're all better! I love you, though!!!!"

Jake has a bad case of pityriasis rosea along with MRSA (yikes!!!) We're keeping Lysol in the black. My hands are raw from washing. And I hatehatehate not snuggling with him.

"Jake, you know we get sick here because of sin, right? Sin is what causes us to get illnesses. In Heaven, no one gets sick!"

"Yeah, and I get a new body!"

"Right!"

"And I come back to life?"

"Right... like, instantly."

"And I walk around down here?"

"Uh, no, you get a new body and then live in Heaven!"

"Oh... what we eat there?"

DJ, always the source of knowledge: "We don't eat in Heaven, Jake, cuz you don't ever get hungry there."

I chimed back in: "Weellll... the Bible does talk about food being there. It's there for some reason."

Jake got a big grin: "I hope God has tuna!"

I am still laughing over that one!

Glimmers of Hope

Just celebrated DJ's half birthday. That's always fun, this part of the memory-making...

It's not officially his half birthday, but close enough. A very chaotic schedule pushes everything around. But any day is a good day for lemon cake, cookies-and-cream ice cream, and an Atlantis Lego shark thingy!

And DJ's fun! It's always a joy to bless him and enjoy life with him!

I asked him to pray at breakfast today, this being his half birthday and all.

I expected the usual ~ God-honoring, yes ~ but still a prayer from a very young boy. (And might I add, one who can barely sit still, much less think through anything deep for very long.)

But I need to back up a bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sea's been rough this past month. Dark time, here. I've been flailing about, trying to steer my own little life boat in this huge mess of a life on my little corner.

And I know that God is there, and that He is working His perfect plans, and that He can be trusted, and that He loves me more than I will ever know this side of Heaven, and that He will not only be burning my dross but will be using my life to sharpen others, and He will get Himself much glory one way or the other through however my life ends up...

But it's been rough. And I've been bewildered. Uncharted territory, honestly, this particular trial.

And so I've been asking the usual: "God, are You going to show me what I'm doing wrong so I can stop?" and "Is this really how this is supposed to be going?" and "Are you going to fix this soon because I'm fearful ~ terribly fearful ~ that we're moving past the point of no return and I'm not sure how to stop all of this!!!!"...

I don't think I'm accomplishing anything for His glory. I'm in turmoil as to what my next step should be. I believe that all I can do adequately is make mistakes.

I am feeling pretty useless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But then, we come to breakfast, today, and I ask DJ to pray. And I wait for the usual while my thoughts swirl with the overwhelmingness of today's agenda.

"Dear God, thank You for making me 8 1/2! Pretty soon, I'll be 9! And then, I'll be 9 1/2! [dramatic pause, because this is ~ after all ~ our DJ.] And then I'll be 10!"

[Oh, LORD, please...]

"And then I'll be 10 1/2!"

[LORD, fill me with Your patience. Do I need to address this?]

"Lord, thank You for giving me birth, and giving me life..."

(oh...)

[Bite the tongue to stop the tears (because tears have their own zip code behind both eyes these days). Lord, help me not cry.]

"And thank You for putting me in a wealthy family..."

[Wha'? Us? Wealthy?... oh. well, yes. Compared to 95% of the rest of the world, we're incredibly wealthy. Even if the USofA says we're middle class, we're actually very wealthy. Why don't I think like this??]

"And thank You for giving me to two parents who love You and want to teach me about You..."

In the middle of this stormy place, when I can't even see my own hand in front of my face...

the Lord speaks to me in breakfast thanksgiving. Sound waves move as LOVE reaches middle ear and steadies the frenzied brain.

The Spirit whispers

hopehopehope

and

trust Me (not what you see)

and

I will never leave you nor forsake you...

And I am undone with the realization that God sees my fear and speaks to it and gives me hope that He is working in our family, even when I can only see a mess made by human hands.

I am strengthened with the truth that God is for me, that He has surrounded me, and that He will bring the good out of the bad.

And that, even in the stormiest of seas, the Anchor remains. And I am safe.

We are safe.

Learning to Love

I'm pondering these words today. Brought by God through something Sally Clarkson wrote almost a year ago.

Words I need to hear as this is an area I've been battling in.

I am weary with pursuing, for the sake of love, after someone who continues to resist in the most hurtful ways. But I hear Christ reminding me that, even while I was still a sinner, He died for me. The ultimate pursuing love for the vilest resister. How prideful I am to think I can pull back from this!

Thank you, Lord, for bringing this to my eyes. What encouragement to press on!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Choosing to pursue is an act of obedience. Taking responsibility to encourage and to give life-giving words and to redeem is one of the best reflections of the reality of Christ in our lives--God was always initiating--creating a garden where the life of Adam and Eve could thrive and be blessed; providing clothes after they had sinned, giving them a history of a people beloved by God, providing manna and quail, giving words of encouragement, giving fish and loaves when noticing personal needs, promises of hope, pursued by Him and ultimately the final sacrifice--becoming, humbly, a man to serve and love and prepare meals and wash feet and redeem.


And so because we have felt the healing grace of His touch, deeply in the hidden places, and been transformed by His heart, we in turn, after knowing , we pursue those He would touch through us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Most of the time, I cannot see that these beloved want me to pursue them, often it seems just the opposite--especially with hormonal teens and preteens. And even with disgruntled adults. But, if I could see the cries of their inner heart, "I am discouraged, frustrated, feel inadequate, insecure, angry, overwhelmed," I would know that a supernatural touch of unconditional love, words of life, hope held out before them, is just what they need--and we become the hands, words and messages from God to them.


Each of us has time and ability--but we must be stewards of this time and the capacity we have to bring love and encouragement and words of life to all God brings our way. In loving and pondering Christ, He becomes our model--while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us--he didn't wait until we were worthy, or asked him to die--he just initiated His love, because He knew that while we were separated from Him, we would be lost forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so, He sends us to initiate, to find those who need the love and life of Christ, before they even ask. We don't initiate because we feel like it--we may be weary, discouraged ourselves. But we do it out of obedience, because He did it--and it is His supernatural grace that drives us to give of ourselves to others.

Excerpted from www.ITakeJoy.com, November 10, 2009.
Copyright 2009 by Sally Clarkson. Used by permission.

Julian Smith Rules

I love this guy. He is hysterically funny in such a bizarre way. Which, okay, so now you'll think I'm weird.

That's fine.

Big Mac and I LOVE to watch this guy's y-tube channel! We laugh and laugh til we almost... well, you know.

This is my 2nd-favorite video of his. I won't post my very favorite, because it's a bit dark. But you could find this guy and look for one titled "Malk."

And then you'll be entirely convinced that I'm deranged. And that I passed the gene on to Big Mac.

That's fine.




Oh, AND: I want a jellyfish T-shirt. For my birthday or Christmas. Doesn't matter to me!

Rash Words

No, I have no answer as to why I'm blogging so much these days. "Inconsistency" is my middle name. sometimes.

I just read a blog post, though, and I have to rant a bit.

I love this gal's blog. She is hys-TER-ically funny, and I always enjoy reading her.

Today was different, though, and her post today comes on the tail of a string of things I've been seeing a lot lately. For the umpteenth August.

Yet another mom singing the "Hallelujah" chorus because her kids have gone back to school.

Ick...

I walked past a mom in Kroger the other day who lamented long & loudly to a friend ~ IN FRONT OF HER THREE DAUGHTERS!!! ~ WHO WERE ALL UNDER THE AGE OF 12!! ~ that she couldn't WAIT for school to start back, that she was sick of kids being at home.

Double ick...

These poor kids!!!

Let me be the first to admit: there are days when only the hand of God holds me back from the "leavin' on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again..." sorta thing. (Actually, the hand of God keeps me from all evil. Just sayin'...)

But to post or wail out loud, for the eyes or ears of my kids, that I can't WAIT for them to be out of the house, that I'm tired of being "mom," to embarrass them in front of others or wound their sweet spirits...

Gack.

Parenting is hard, but it is a gift from God. And our time with our kids is short. And everytime I am ready for extended peace & quiet, God reminds me that my days with kids under the roof are so few, on the grand timeline of things. His reminders bring me to tears and stir my heart with deeper affections for my kids.

In fact, with Mem out of the house 3 days a week and Big Mac now in school, this house is waywayway too quiet, even with my two little tornadoes still here.

Moms, pray for patience & perseverance & love and compassion & strength when you're tired & overwhelmed and ready to throw in the towel. But let your kids hear and see that you love and treasure them. A wounded spirit heals very, very slowly (if at all!).

Big Breaths, Small Steps

Jake read today.

Jake. read. today. 5 words.

He doesn't know his vowels yet, so I told him their sounds as we came to them. And then he read them.

I cried. He sat there wondering why I'd lost my mind. And then we prayed and thanked his Creator for a smart brain. And asked for grace for the days to come, times when we have to start on those pesky sight words (I know, I'm planning too far ahead).

But for today, we read. And I breathed a huge sigh of relief because I've had absolutely no idea whether or not this special guy was going to learn here at home. I've been fearful that we were going to have to send him to someone better at this than me. Which would've been okay, except that we homeschool because I love having my kiddos near. And I would've cried a lot.

Wow. Today is a good day.

Jake will probably find the cure for cancer, and I will laugh as I think back over these days!

(As I typed those last words, Jake just said, "That's a blessing that God made me know how to read!!" Today is officially a really good day!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Postscript: God has continuously pressed me with this thought: "The heart of man plans his ways, but the LORD establishes his steps." Here's another incredible angle on this event: I wasn't teaching Jake to read today. Because it wasn't in my plans for today. In fact, we weren't even having our "language" time. We were smack-dab in the middle of handwriting.

I was just doing my usual. As we talked about the letters that required copying, I asked him what sounds they made. The copywork was "dog."

"So, 'd' says?"

"Duh."

"Right. And you haven't learned 'o,' but it says "ah," and "g" says..."

"Dog."

I went blank. Then I went to unbelief. He'd probably learned this word, one of our first we all learn, by watching Wordgirl or Martha Speaks or something. So I wrote "dot," and held my breath.

"Okay, 'd' says 'duh,' and that 'o' says 'ah.' What does the 't' say?"

"Ttt."

"Right. Do you know what this word is?" And then I held my breath again.
(It's amazing I don't pass out with all the breath-holding I do.)

"Dot."

ohmyword.

So then we worked through "go" and "cat" and "gun." And he read. And I cried. And you know the rest.

But as I've turned these minutes over and over in my mind, God has been showing me: I had NO plans to start teaching "reading" today because we weren't ready!! Jake knew no vowel sounds. He still struggled to remember all of the consonants. As always, I knew what the game plan was.

Ha.

GOD knew that Jake was ready, because God is in charge, as always. He was the one Who prepared him for today, for the moment, and Jake read when his Maker was ready.

It never has anything to do with me! I can relax! Our good and gracious & ever-wise Father remains perfectly in control and continues to work in Jake! His plans for Jacob will never be thwarted!

Isn't that funny? It had nothing to do with me at all! I was just in my own little oblivious homeschooling world...

School Daze

We started school this past week. Tomorrow marks the beginning of week two. And I'm thinking we've fallen way, way behind and may never catch up. Already.

We're at home tonight, having a lazy, restful evening. Decided to look at some PBS. Some documentary was on about rhinos. I figured we should camp out and try to get some educating going while we could.

I don't even know how this came up. I was definitely listening to the narrator but still can't tell you how this subject entered the program.

Something about Marco Polo. Maybe one of the rhinos was written about by Polo on his travels. Don't know. But some man in Sumatra was standing in a field looking at a black rhino when the words "Marco Polo" were spoken.

DJ had the "light-bulb-went-off" look on his face as he exclaimed to me: "Mom, that's him!"

"Who?"

"Him! Marco Polo!"

"Whadda ya' mean?"

"Mar-Co-PO-lo! The guy who invented that game!!"

(ohmyword. seriously?)

"Sweetie, Marco Polo was a real guy from, like, Spain or somewhere who traveled a lot a long time ago. That's why we play that game at the pool."

"Oh..."

I've GOT to focus on history.

The Forgotten

The small sheet was old, stuffed under a box of pushpins in my teacher's desk. Rumpled and bent. Forgotten and lost.

I pulled it out and inhaled sharply. Another lesson for today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A frame has sat on the edge of my desk for several years now. Simple verse printed off of Word in a pretty script. Truth from Granite that needed to be cut into my heart:

"'Rash words are like the thrusts of a sword,

but the tongue of the wise brings healing.' Proverbs 12:18

Rash words are without consideration or discernment and are intended to hurt."

Truth be told, I have always struggled with keeping my temper under control. My fuse is short, especially during times of stress, and I am known in these walls for a stinging tongue. It's something I have to confess & seek forgiveness for more than anything else. I hate it, but obviously not enough yet, because the tongue remains untamed to a shameful extent.

So I print verses and pray verses and fight to make my fuse longer, miles longer, begging for the grace I need to not wound those I love the most.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the wrinkled paper was turned over, words from a sweet, childish scrawl came to light:

"THANK you for saying ThaT."

Who? From When? Who wrote this note that was so dear that I saved it to be found, to remind me that I was loved and had done something worth the note?

The back revealed the blesser: my 1st son, now a 9th-grader. Nine years ago, a kindergartner. Nine years ago, a young child under a mom who said things that warranted a thank-you note. A mom who remembered to bless with words more than sting with rashness.

I sat back with the sharp inhale.

These days, a good school day is defined by no rash words. Or very few of them, as the standards sink. Nine years ago, there were only 2 schooling kids with a small baby who slept often. Mom worked hard to make joy in each day. Crafts were planned and field trips were taken and books were read at the drop of a hat.

Nine years later, life is busier than I could've imagined. I'm nine years older and am schooling 3 children with wildly different needs. I meet myself coming and going, burning the candle at both ends, proud to serve spaghetti and salad instead of hot dogs and chips, wondering how to get everyone where they need to be, wondering how to be the wife still to a man who needs my companionship and love.

Nine years later, "good school day" means that all the boxes got checked off and I haven't been harsh.

But somewhere, stuck under something, crumpled and lost, is my resolve to speak beyond rash. To instead, speak encouragement and excitement and interest and compassion, inspiration and approval and support.

In short, to speak love. In a way that begs a "thank-you" note. Even if the note never comes!

For tomorrow, the slip of paper is out of hiding and is taped to the framed verse, a reminder of this: not speaking "rash" is good. Just not good enough.

I want to speak love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels,

but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong

or a clanging cymbal. 1 Cor. 13:1

Another First

Weird morning, today.

Mem just drove off in the van. By herself. Alone. For the first time. Almost one hour ago.

Had to get to town for worship team practice and then will go to the store for me.

Weird watching her drive away. Because I did look. Against my better judgment, I peeped out of the window for a quick peek.

She looked... grown. As in, like she could be a mom, almost. sorta.

I didn't cry, which is amazing. Can you believe it?

But then she didn't call to let me know she'd arrived safely, which is wrongwrongwrong.

So I texted her and she didn't answer back and then I called, a bit indignant that she KNEW the rule but forgot that I'd be panicking back home.

But, wow. Another milestone in my life. A milestone in hers.

And I can't seem to move beyond, "How in the name of Pete did we get here?"

Thanks, Mem

Ohmyword. I can't believe I haven't said anything about this.

I saw something at the bottom of someone's website recently where they'd given credit to whoever had designed their site.

And it just hit me! I haven't said anything!

My sweet daughter spent a lot of time and effort freshening up my blog a few months ago. I LOVE it!!! My sister-in-law had designed my initial one about 2 years ago, but I was ready for something new after a while.

Mem jumped right on it, even putting up with me whining and pleading.

Thanks, Mem!

You know I could NEVER do this at all!

A Fresh View

Do your soul a favor and go read this.

Great article by Jim Ellif on the love that Christ pours out on us.

Jim's website is a great resource, and I'm so thankful for the ministry he's had in my life over the past 12+ years! His blog is always full of exactly what I need to hear, as well.

Blessings!

Faithful Kindness

It's been a hard couple of days, on several levels.

I know I have a hard time hiding my emotions when they're roiling. I know I've been walking around, zoned out while my mind races at the speed of light to process the situation(s) and all the implications.

I live not on this terrestrial level but in reality, at the throne of grace, full of sin but looking to my Answer for help.

Help comes from His hand in the most surprising ways, at times. Often surprising because my fallen heart struggles to believe that He will be faithful in His promise to hear my cry. The truth is that God loves me and has shown me in a million ways over the centuries. But my very flawed & polluted self fights to just believe that His love is, indeed, for me. (I am blown away that He answers in spite of my very defective view of His grace and kindnesses.)

On my Bible yesterday was a letter from my Mem, covered in Truth for my edification, my encouragement, my comfort. Verses from the mouth of my Answerer, my Refuge. A channel of love through my daughter from the very throne I had laid before.

Answers.

I smiled through fresh tears as I absorbed the sweetness of this act. And I smiled as I realized that, in grabbing something to quickly write the balm for this mom's heart, she'd picked up an old piece of stationery. One from long ago. One from her pre-teen days.

The picture of Josefina was a tender spot on the page. Memories flooded quickly of my young Mem, of her hours spent living in American Girl land. God reminded me of the length of her life, how He has brought her to this point, how He has blessed me with her from day one.

How she has changed from the days of Josefina and into the present-day young woman who has found the balance between respectfully remaining under my authority while also becoming my confidant, my helper, and my encourager.

In short, my friend.

For eternity, my Sister.

When you read this, Mem, know that I love you and cannot thank you enough for your sweet note. I've read it over several times, each time receiving the love and comfort it was given with.

God points to you often as I seek Him and says, "Here is a gift that says, 'I am thinking of you and I love you.' Do not doubt that I hear you and am listening."

Thank you, Father, for never turning from me, your most unstable and foolish child.

Releasing What Isn't Mine

Tomorrow my 2nd-born leaves for school.

It's been coming. God has been working mightily in my heart to shore me up and press me to lean on Him alone for this grief and time of uncertainty and fear.

But it's a bit like a death of someone close to you who's been ill and you knew would die eventually from their disease. You know it's coming, you're not surprised by it, you're preparing for it...

But the advent hits hard nonetheless, knocking the breath out of you and causing your stomach to knot and twist.

So, I'm here. At my kitchen table and wondering how to bring my thoughts into line with God's. How to trust Him as I say I do, to be at peace with what I say is His perfect work. To get my heart & emotions to line up with what my mind says is truth.

The problem, as I confessed to God this morning, is that I want to remain in control. Not so much over my son and his schooling (although that is a factor, honestly). But I want to stay in control of how much pain I experience in this life.

God has been showing me how much I work to avoid grieving. How unwilling I am to hurt and learn from it. How unlike Him I am, He who gave up His only Son to bear the sin of the world on His righteous, not-guilty shoulders; even to the unimaginable point of having His Father turn His back on Him as He represented that sin for those He came to save. Complete and utter separation, coupled with the pouring out of wrath by the Father on Him, complete agony as His Father turned His face away and forsook Him.

There are some parallels I can draw from these truths. God knows what it's like to be separated from someone you love dearly. He knows what it's like to have much pain because of that separateness. And please don't think I'm comparing my grief over my son being gone to the grief God walked through as He had to separate from Christ. There is no comparison in the weight of those situations.

It is just, again and as always, an incredibly sweet thing for the LORD to remind me that He understands my heart. That He is near and will calm my troubled and burdened heart. That I can trust this One who is able to save and who can sympathize with my weaknesses.

Again, I am blown away by His kindness to me. And I am clinging to the truth, knowing that God will transform my emotions in His perfect timing [because it is necessary for us to be grieved by various trials, at times (1 Peter 1:6), so I know that I need to walk through this grief to have my faith tested and to bring about praise for my Refuge].

Psalm 34

"I asked the LORD for help, and He answered me. He saved me from all that I feared."

"The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit."

Zephaniah 3

"The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you with His love; He will rejoice over you with singing."