Yesterday, I was out walking with a dear friend of mine. It was a picture-perfect day, and we were taking all 5 of our children on a bike ride. A recently abandoned college campus seemed like an ideal place to give the children free rein. Endless sidewalks stretched before us with hardly a pedestrian in sight. Our kiddos were in Bicycle Heaven!
After riding their bikes for quite a stretch, the children decided to play on the lawn for a bit. My girlfriend and I were happy to rest and talk, all the while keeping a close eye on the fun. There was a grass covered mound in the distance. The little girls were at the base of the small hill, just exploring a bit when one of them began to cry. My friend quickly went over to see what was wrong. At the same time, another child ran away from the mound, screaming in terror. At that point, I knew that something was terribly wrong.
"BEES!" was the first thought that came to my mind. And it proved to be a pretty accurate guess. It was actually YELLOW JACKETS, scads of them. And boy, were they ticked off! Our girls had stumbled on a nest, and it was getting UGLY fast. As my friend rushed up with a look of sheer panic on her face, I realized that they were still swarming around both her and her little little one.
At that moment, it was like time stood still and everything began to happen in slow motion. There were 5 children gathered around us, and we had no idea how many angry insects were on their way. I looked down at the 4-year-old who seemed to have gotten the worst of it, and there were three yellow jackets completely embedded in her leggings, as if they could drill a hole right through the fabric! So, what did we do? We ran, stripping clothes off the children as we went. As I fled with the baby in my arms and holding the 4-year-old by the hand, I screamed, "Help us, Jesus!"
I was desperate.
I was helpless.
I was utterly panic-stricken.
And I was exactly where God wanted me to be, completely trusting in Him to deliver me from an impossible situation. I was so relieved when that is exactly what He did! Within a hundred yards or so, we were relieved of one little pair of leggings, one pink shirt, and a fleece jacket. Most importantly, we were relieved of COUNTLESS yellow jackets! Those wicked little beasts finally stopped following us, and we were able to flee to the safety of the mini van. I gathered the little half-dressed, ragtag band of children around me and together we thanked the Lord for delivering us from a terrible situation. Together, my friend and three of the children sustained about a dozen stings, but we knew that it could have been much, much worse.
Later that night, I picked up my Bible and randomly chose Psalm 34 as my passage for the evening. Verse 17 just about jumped off the page at me! It says, "The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles." I knew that was EXACTLY what had happened to us that day. In our trouble, I cried to the Lord, and He delivered us!
What are you going through today? A stormy marriage, the death of a loved one, the loss of your job, perhaps bankruptcy or a wayward child? Sometimes, it seems like the troubles of life overcome us, just like a swarm of angry yellow jackets. Whatever it is you're facing, no matter how far you are from the Lord, He is waiting for you to call on him. In the midst of fancy prayers and complicated conversations with the Almighty, I believe that the words he most wants to hear are, "Help me, Jesus!" It is our utter helplessness, our overwhelming fears, our absolute NEEDINESS that drives Him to us faster than we can utter the words. God does not help those who help themselves. He helps those who CANNOT help themselves and who are humble and DESPERATE enough to admit it.
Cry out to Jesus!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MOb8ihacSM4
***Awesome music video by 3rd Day - "Cry out to Jesus"
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Not My Will
7
13
9
These are three seemingly unrelated numbers, meaningless to most but holding such significance for me. This is the birth date of my fourth child, the tiny one who came too soon and said "Good-bye" before "Hello." On July 13, 2009, I suffered my first miscarriage. Oh the tears that came! And the grief...How could I desperately miss someone I had never even met before? I don't know. All I know is that every morning for over a week, I woke up with a lump in my throat and the instant thought, "I'm not pregnant anymore." I held the pain in my chest like a lead weight. For the first time in my life, I really knew what it meant to be "heavy-hearted."
Two weeks have passed since that dark, dark day, and I'm thankful that I've gotten past the deepest part of the grief. I've walked away with my faith intact. I haven't gotten mad. I haven't blamed God. I've accepted that even in the loss of my precious baby, God has a perfect, unseen plan.
But I'm still scared.
I live in utter dread of a second miscarriage. I pray, "Please God, don't let this happen again. I can't go through it a second time. Losing my baby was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I can't do it again. I really, really cannot. Would you put me through this a second time?"
In my heart, I am begging God, "If it is possible, let this cup pass from me." I wish that like Christ, I could add, "Not my will but Thine be done." But I can't. I'm not there yet. Right now, it hurts too much. The wound is still raw. The tears are bubbling just beneath the surface and deep down inside, I know that what I really want is MY will, not God's will.
God's will hurts too much.
God's will demands too much.
God's will takes too much.
I feel as if I am standing at the foot of my own cross, completely unable to bear the thought of climbing up there and dying to self. I want to run far, far away. I want to run to a place where there is no pain, no sorrow, no loss, no death, no suffering, no miscarriage. And then I remember, there is such a place, a place where "sorrow and sighing shall flee away." And I remember, I realize that the road to Heaven always lies on the other side of the Cross. I cannot experience the glory of truly knowing Christ until I partake of His pain.
Jesus walked that road. He climbed the hill to Mount Calvary. He died to self in order to live for me. Can I not die to self in order to live for Him? I must confess that I don't yet know the answer to that question. I want the answer to be "Yes," but right now, I'm still waiting. I'm waiting for God to bring me along, to give me strength to trust Him no matter what. I am thankful that God is patient. He is a loving Father who knows the anguish of losing a Son. For now, I will rest in His unfailing love, knowing that "He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it."
Life is Hard, but God is Good. He is very, very GOOD!
13
9
These are three seemingly unrelated numbers, meaningless to most but holding such significance for me. This is the birth date of my fourth child, the tiny one who came too soon and said "Good-bye" before "Hello." On July 13, 2009, I suffered my first miscarriage. Oh the tears that came! And the grief...How could I desperately miss someone I had never even met before? I don't know. All I know is that every morning for over a week, I woke up with a lump in my throat and the instant thought, "I'm not pregnant anymore." I held the pain in my chest like a lead weight. For the first time in my life, I really knew what it meant to be "heavy-hearted."
Two weeks have passed since that dark, dark day, and I'm thankful that I've gotten past the deepest part of the grief. I've walked away with my faith intact. I haven't gotten mad. I haven't blamed God. I've accepted that even in the loss of my precious baby, God has a perfect, unseen plan.
But I'm still scared.
I live in utter dread of a second miscarriage. I pray, "Please God, don't let this happen again. I can't go through it a second time. Losing my baby was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I can't do it again. I really, really cannot. Would you put me through this a second time?"
In my heart, I am begging God, "If it is possible, let this cup pass from me." I wish that like Christ, I could add, "Not my will but Thine be done." But I can't. I'm not there yet. Right now, it hurts too much. The wound is still raw. The tears are bubbling just beneath the surface and deep down inside, I know that what I really want is MY will, not God's will.
God's will hurts too much.
God's will demands too much.
God's will takes too much.
I feel as if I am standing at the foot of my own cross, completely unable to bear the thought of climbing up there and dying to self. I want to run far, far away. I want to run to a place where there is no pain, no sorrow, no loss, no death, no suffering, no miscarriage. And then I remember, there is such a place, a place where "sorrow and sighing shall flee away." And I remember, I realize that the road to Heaven always lies on the other side of the Cross. I cannot experience the glory of truly knowing Christ until I partake of His pain.
Jesus walked that road. He climbed the hill to Mount Calvary. He died to self in order to live for me. Can I not die to self in order to live for Him? I must confess that I don't yet know the answer to that question. I want the answer to be "Yes," but right now, I'm still waiting. I'm waiting for God to bring me along, to give me strength to trust Him no matter what. I am thankful that God is patient. He is a loving Father who knows the anguish of losing a Son. For now, I will rest in His unfailing love, knowing that "He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it."
Life is Hard, but God is Good. He is very, very GOOD!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Cravings
I LOVE ice cream. Really, I do believe that it is quite possibly the World's Most Perfect Food. Choose the right flavor, and you have all the basic food groups covered. Take Moose Tracks, for example. You're got your peanut butter for protein, your cream for dairy, and sugar for carbohydrates. Throw a maraschino cherry on top, and you've got some fruit! Don't forget about the chocolate, which is the World's 2nd Most Perfect Food! As you all know, chocolate comes from a bean, so it's really a vegetable, right???
I spotted the object of my true desire on our way home from the World's Longest 4th of July Parade. (You'll have to excuse all the statistics. I'm getting kick-backs from Guinness for this blog post, ok?) As for the object of my desire, it was a HUGE soft-serve chocolate ice cream cone. You know, one of those teetering, 8-inch high mounds of pure sweetness and light. Truly a delicious sight to behold, something that keeps you up at night and makes you wonder whether or not Dairy Queen is open 24 hours a day!
Two days later, we decided to take the whole family out for ice cream. Boy, was I excited! Finally, a chance to quell the craving and quiet the Ice Cream Beast that lives inside all of us (well, at least inside of me, anyways). Everyone decided that UDF was the place to be, so we pulled up and piled out of the van. After mustering up every possible ounce of self-restraint and dignity, I approached the ice cream counter calmly and in an orderly fashion. Ok, ok, I admit it. I ran over one skinny kid (not my own, of course!) and a man who looked vaguely familiar. (If anyone knows how to clean skid marks off sensitive skin, my husband is open to advice.)
But Alas...It was not to be!
No chocolate soft serve was to be had at UDF. No chocolate soft-serve??!!! Whoever heard of such lunacy? They had french vanilla and peach of all things. PEACH! Who would ever buy peach ice cream? It is certainly a true, true waste of the country's natural resources and energy reserves. Where's the FDA when you really need them? To be fair, I must admit that UDF had a bazillion flavors of hard pack ice cream. Superman, Mint Chip, Cookie Dough, and more.
But
No
Chocolate
Soft serve...
Oh, the agony of it all!
So, I did something that I've never done before and will probably never do again. I passed up a chance to eat ice cream! Yes, write it down. This is really another World Record. I can see the headlines now, "Confirmed IceCream-Aholic Goes Dry at the UDF." If I couldn't have my chocolate self-serve, I just didn't want anything. I wasn't pouting or sulking. I just honestly could not work up an appetite for any other kind of ice cream. I'm tellin' you all, this was really the Granddaddy of all possible Cravings!
Speaking of cravings, in I Peter 2:2, we read the following, "Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation." Crave...God used the word crave! And boy, do I know what it means to crave something! I hope that my cravings for Jesus and His Word far surpass my cravings for chocolate soft-serve ice cream. I want to think about the Word day and night. I want to lay awake wondering when I'll be able to get my next "fix." I want to pass up all those cheap, peachy substitutes and hold out for the REAL thing! “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.” (Psalm 42:1) It's the B-I-B-L-E, folks, and it's even better than ice cream. Always satisfying and 100% Fat Free! Order yourself a double-dip today :)
I spotted the object of my true desire on our way home from the World's Longest 4th of July Parade. (You'll have to excuse all the statistics. I'm getting kick-backs from Guinness for this blog post, ok?) As for the object of my desire, it was a HUGE soft-serve chocolate ice cream cone. You know, one of those teetering, 8-inch high mounds of pure sweetness and light. Truly a delicious sight to behold, something that keeps you up at night and makes you wonder whether or not Dairy Queen is open 24 hours a day!
Two days later, we decided to take the whole family out for ice cream. Boy, was I excited! Finally, a chance to quell the craving and quiet the Ice Cream Beast that lives inside all of us (well, at least inside of me, anyways). Everyone decided that UDF was the place to be, so we pulled up and piled out of the van. After mustering up every possible ounce of self-restraint and dignity, I approached the ice cream counter calmly and in an orderly fashion. Ok, ok, I admit it. I ran over one skinny kid (not my own, of course!) and a man who looked vaguely familiar. (If anyone knows how to clean skid marks off sensitive skin, my husband is open to advice.)
But Alas...It was not to be!
No chocolate soft serve was to be had at UDF. No chocolate soft-serve??!!! Whoever heard of such lunacy? They had french vanilla and peach of all things. PEACH! Who would ever buy peach ice cream? It is certainly a true, true waste of the country's natural resources and energy reserves. Where's the FDA when you really need them? To be fair, I must admit that UDF had a bazillion flavors of hard pack ice cream. Superman, Mint Chip, Cookie Dough, and more.
But
No
Chocolate
Soft serve...
Oh, the agony of it all!
So, I did something that I've never done before and will probably never do again. I passed up a chance to eat ice cream! Yes, write it down. This is really another World Record. I can see the headlines now, "Confirmed IceCream-Aholic Goes Dry at the UDF." If I couldn't have my chocolate self-serve, I just didn't want anything. I wasn't pouting or sulking. I just honestly could not work up an appetite for any other kind of ice cream. I'm tellin' you all, this was really the Granddaddy of all possible Cravings!
Speaking of cravings, in I Peter 2:2, we read the following, "Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation." Crave...God used the word crave! And boy, do I know what it means to crave something! I hope that my cravings for Jesus and His Word far surpass my cravings for chocolate soft-serve ice cream. I want to think about the Word day and night. I want to lay awake wondering when I'll be able to get my next "fix." I want to pass up all those cheap, peachy substitutes and hold out for the REAL thing! “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.” (Psalm 42:1) It's the B-I-B-L-E, folks, and it's even better than ice cream. Always satisfying and 100% Fat Free! Order yourself a double-dip today :)
Friday, June 19, 2009
True Confessions
They say that life imitates art, and as a mother of a 5 and 6 year old, I would have to say that is absolutely true! Lately, I feel like Jack Bauer on the television series 24. You know how it is. You've isolated the "suspect" and now it's time for him to 'fess up and give it to you straight! You're negotiating, you're threatening, you're promising immunity, you're calling headquarters for cell phone records and video recorded data. Really, all you want is the truth! Unfortunately, the truth is, when you have little kids, somebody is always doing something they're not supposed to be doing, but nobody is willing to admit to doing ANYTHING!
Admittance of guilt is just about as popular as an early bedtime around here. So, you can believe it just about took me to my knees when my little girl offered up what is perhaps the most powerful confession anyone can ever make.
"I have sin."
Three simple words uttered in complete honestly and childish simplicity of heart, yet powerful enough to arrest the attention of Almighty God.
"I have sin!"
Oh, how I've longed to hear those words from the lips of my child! For months, we've been having LOTS of spiritual discussions. You know, even a child as young as 4 or 5 years of age can exhibit signs of being under conviction. My two older children have reached this age, and I've found that they are a lot like adults who are under conviction. When spiritual topics come up, they either deny any wrongdoing or they tend to change the subject.
"You know, sweetie. Jesus died for your sins."
"Did you know 'sin' starts with an 's'? I know how to write an 'S.' The word 'snake' starts with an 's' too. The anaconda is the biggest snake in the world...."
About a month ago, we were riding along in the car and the topic of dying and going to Heaven came up for the umpteenth time. As usual, I reminded the children that the only way to Heaven is through Jesus. Putting it in "kiddy lingo," I expressed this important life step as "asking Jesus into your heart." My daughter piped up from the backseat,"Oh, I already asked Jesus into my heart!"
"When was that?"
"When I was on the swing!"
"Well, what did you say to Jesus?"
"I told him, 'Happy, happy Jesus!'"
And I'm sure you know what happened next. Drum roll PLEASE....
She changed the subject!!! (What did you expect??? lol :)
I laughed a little in the retelling of this story, but I realized that the vast majority of Americans believe this. Funny that even a 5 year old would borrow this philosophy from the world. In case you're wondering, here is the gospel according to the general population: Jesus is Happy. Jesus is Nice. Jesus lets nice and happy people into Heaven. End of discussion!
The problem with this theology is that Jesus is not just Happy, but he is also HOLY. Some of us are good and some of us are nice and some of us are even happy, but NONE of us is holy! The Bible says that "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." Like my daughter, we all have to come to the point where we utter those simple, yet PAINFUL Words - "I have sin!" Sin that I have no personal answer for. Sin that separates me from God. Sin that cannot be atoned for any other way but the blood of Jesus.
So, what did I say to my daughter when she offered up this true confession? I told her to tell Jesus about it. I didn't ask her to repeat the "The Magic Getting Saved Words." We didn't recite the Romans Road in perfect synchrony. She just told Jesus her problem, "I have sin" and thanked Him for his solution, "You died on the cross for me." It was the beauty of the Gospel in a nutshell and the moment of salvation for one little girl who crossed over from death to life. I think I'll go now and put on my dancing shoes. Can I get an "Amen" and a "Happy Happy Jesus!"???
Admittance of guilt is just about as popular as an early bedtime around here. So, you can believe it just about took me to my knees when my little girl offered up what is perhaps the most powerful confession anyone can ever make.
"I have sin."
Three simple words uttered in complete honestly and childish simplicity of heart, yet powerful enough to arrest the attention of Almighty God.
"I have sin!"
Oh, how I've longed to hear those words from the lips of my child! For months, we've been having LOTS of spiritual discussions. You know, even a child as young as 4 or 5 years of age can exhibit signs of being under conviction. My two older children have reached this age, and I've found that they are a lot like adults who are under conviction. When spiritual topics come up, they either deny any wrongdoing or they tend to change the subject.
"You know, sweetie. Jesus died for your sins."
"Did you know 'sin' starts with an 's'? I know how to write an 'S.' The word 'snake' starts with an 's' too. The anaconda is the biggest snake in the world...."
About a month ago, we were riding along in the car and the topic of dying and going to Heaven came up for the umpteenth time. As usual, I reminded the children that the only way to Heaven is through Jesus. Putting it in "kiddy lingo," I expressed this important life step as "asking Jesus into your heart." My daughter piped up from the backseat,"Oh, I already asked Jesus into my heart!"
"When was that?"
"When I was on the swing!"
"Well, what did you say to Jesus?"
"I told him, 'Happy, happy Jesus!'"
And I'm sure you know what happened next. Drum roll PLEASE....
She changed the subject!!! (What did you expect??? lol :)
I laughed a little in the retelling of this story, but I realized that the vast majority of Americans believe this. Funny that even a 5 year old would borrow this philosophy from the world. In case you're wondering, here is the gospel according to the general population: Jesus is Happy. Jesus is Nice. Jesus lets nice and happy people into Heaven. End of discussion!
The problem with this theology is that Jesus is not just Happy, but he is also HOLY. Some of us are good and some of us are nice and some of us are even happy, but NONE of us is holy! The Bible says that "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." Like my daughter, we all have to come to the point where we utter those simple, yet PAINFUL Words - "I have sin!" Sin that I have no personal answer for. Sin that separates me from God. Sin that cannot be atoned for any other way but the blood of Jesus.
So, what did I say to my daughter when she offered up this true confession? I told her to tell Jesus about it. I didn't ask her to repeat the "The Magic Getting Saved Words." We didn't recite the Romans Road in perfect synchrony. She just told Jesus her problem, "I have sin" and thanked Him for his solution, "You died on the cross for me." It was the beauty of the Gospel in a nutshell and the moment of salvation for one little girl who crossed over from death to life. I think I'll go now and put on my dancing shoes. Can I get an "Amen" and a "Happy Happy Jesus!"???
Sunday, June 14, 2009
There is nothing to fear but fear...EEEK!!! A mouse!!!
I'll be the first to admit it. I'm afraid of rodents. All of them. Even hamsters. I don't know what it is about the little critters that absolutely, positively FREAKS ME OUT, but I totally cannot deal with rodents. So, yesterday, I was in the bathroom just uh, going about my business (if you know what I mean:). AND A MOUSE RAN RIGHT PAST MY FOOT! Oh my goodness! I let out an ear-piercing scream that I'm sure deafened people in the neighboring counties. You know, it was one of those hair-raising, gut-wrenching, I-am-so-terrified-it's-a-good-thing-I'm-on-the-toilet-or-I-would-be-wetting-my-pants kind of scream.
The children came running to see what could possibly be the matter. By the time they arrived on the scene, the mouse had long since disappeared. Apparently, mice have very good hearing, and the blood-curdling scream sent my little nemesis scurrying back into his hole. The questions started up immediately.
"What was it, Mama?"
"How big was he?"
"What did he look like?"
And my favorite..."Maybe there's a whole family in there!" Yes, wouldn't that just be lovely? We'll just make a science project out of this. I don't think you've ever dissected mice before!
Well, I may be afraid of mice, but I'm no dummy! I ran to the junk drawer and pulled out a big wad of modeling clay. Quick as a wink, I plugged up the offending hole. Patting myself on the back, I bid my unwanted guest a final good-bye. "Sayonara, Mr. Mouse! It's been nice knowing you." BUT, before the day even came to an end, that undersized rat was once again prancing across my linoleum as if he owned the place. Ack!
How is it that this little 3 ounce creature has me tiptoeing across the kitchen at night, terrified that he might run across my foot at any moment? I outweigh him by, well, let's say over a 100 pounds, and we'll just leave it at that. I could squish him with one stomp of my size 7 foot, but merely THINKING about TOUCHING him gives me the willies. Oh oh oh! That is just gross. My foot is contorting in Horrification (yes, that is a real word!).
Makes me stop and consider the other things that keep me up at night. It's not just mice that strike terror in this cowardly heart of mine. You name it, I'm afraid of it! I'm afraid of an economic crisis. I'm afraid of Barack Obama (after all, they say he's the anti-Christ and Hitler reincarnated... what's not to be afraid of???). I'm afraid of tornadoes and rising gas prices and car accidents and terrorists and vaccinations and petroleum products and high fructose corn syrup and yes, I'm afraid of MICE!
But you know what? God doesn't want me to live this way. He said...AND I QUOTE, "Fear Not!" You know what that means in the original Greek???
"Fear Not!"
Yep, there's no way around that directive. It's not a request, a suggestion, a positive thought for the day. It is a command! Jesus came to give me life "more abundant and free," and that kind of life doesn't include trembling in the corner with my blanket and binkie! So, instead of tiptoeing around my kitchen tonight, I'll be marching in with one of my daughter's favorite verses at the ready, "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of POWER and of LOVE and of a SOUND MIND!" (II Timothy 1:7) What do you think about that, Mr. Mouse???!!!
The children came running to see what could possibly be the matter. By the time they arrived on the scene, the mouse had long since disappeared. Apparently, mice have very good hearing, and the blood-curdling scream sent my little nemesis scurrying back into his hole. The questions started up immediately.
"What was it, Mama?"
"How big was he?"
"What did he look like?"
And my favorite..."Maybe there's a whole family in there!" Yes, wouldn't that just be lovely? We'll just make a science project out of this. I don't think you've ever dissected mice before!
Well, I may be afraid of mice, but I'm no dummy! I ran to the junk drawer and pulled out a big wad of modeling clay. Quick as a wink, I plugged up the offending hole. Patting myself on the back, I bid my unwanted guest a final good-bye. "Sayonara, Mr. Mouse! It's been nice knowing you." BUT, before the day even came to an end, that undersized rat was once again prancing across my linoleum as if he owned the place. Ack!
How is it that this little 3 ounce creature has me tiptoeing across the kitchen at night, terrified that he might run across my foot at any moment? I outweigh him by, well, let's say over a 100 pounds, and we'll just leave it at that. I could squish him with one stomp of my size 7 foot, but merely THINKING about TOUCHING him gives me the willies. Oh oh oh! That is just gross. My foot is contorting in Horrification (yes, that is a real word!).
Makes me stop and consider the other things that keep me up at night. It's not just mice that strike terror in this cowardly heart of mine. You name it, I'm afraid of it! I'm afraid of an economic crisis. I'm afraid of Barack Obama (after all, they say he's the anti-Christ and Hitler reincarnated... what's not to be afraid of???). I'm afraid of tornadoes and rising gas prices and car accidents and terrorists and vaccinations and petroleum products and high fructose corn syrup and yes, I'm afraid of MICE!
But you know what? God doesn't want me to live this way. He said...AND I QUOTE, "Fear Not!" You know what that means in the original Greek???
"Fear Not!"
Yep, there's no way around that directive. It's not a request, a suggestion, a positive thought for the day. It is a command! Jesus came to give me life "more abundant and free," and that kind of life doesn't include trembling in the corner with my blanket and binkie! So, instead of tiptoeing around my kitchen tonight, I'll be marching in with one of my daughter's favorite verses at the ready, "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of POWER and of LOVE and of a SOUND MIND!" (II Timothy 1:7) What do you think about that, Mr. Mouse???!!!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The truth...the Whole truth...and NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH???
I recently attended a rehearsal dinner where the guests were encouraged to share tidbits of advice for the bride and groom. When it came around to me, I offered the standard words of wisdom...
1) No matter how heated the argument, don't throw bowls of applesauce at your husband (even if they are plastic bowls). By the way, tossing ice water on him is also inadvisable.
2) When you get angry, never, never tell your husband that you are taking the kids to your mom's house because after you pack the suitcases, you know that you will just drive around the block and then the kids will be mad at you when they don't get to go to Grandma's house.
3) If you tend to bang things around when you get upset, register for the cheapest, thinnest Teflon ware you can find. The heavy stainless steel pots will leave dents on counter tops.
Good heavens! Of course I didn't say all those things...Whoever heard of such nonsense? As if anything like that would ever happen within the bonds of Holy Matrimony? Ignore me completely. I'm simply delusional...I'll just go and take my little white pill RIGHT NOW!
Back to what I was saying ~ By far, the most popular admonition for the bride and groom was that they "Be completely honest with each other." Well-meaning guests said, "Lay things out on the table." "Don't hold back." "Tell each other whatever you're thinking." Of course, like a little bobble head, I smiled and nodded approvingly, "Yes, yes, of course this is so important. Honesty in marriage is so important."
Hours later, I got to thinking about this and realized I Totally Disagree! In fact, this may be one of the WORST pieces of advice anyone could ever give an about-to-be-married couple (well, the
tidbit about the thin Teflon pans would probably be a close second). My marriage is strong today because of all the things my husband HASN'T told me! Yep! You heard that right. My husband is not completely honest with me, and it is GOOD for our marriage.
In 10 years of marriage, my husband has rarely expressed anger towards me. He has NEVER sat me down to discuss something "You should be doing differently." He once said that he does not typically point out weaknesses "because most people already know what they are doing wrong." In case you're wondering, my husband isn't perfect. Trust me, I know all too well the perils of sitting on a toilet in the dark of the night! Can anyone say, "Splash???" But, imperfections aside, my husband knows the power of keeping his mouth shut and his heart open.
There was one piece of advice offered at the dinner that was simply priceless. My mother confessed that after 25 years of pointing out my father's flaws, she discovered the folly of her own brand of "honesty." Quoting her favorite marriage verse, my mother admonished the bride and groom to always look for the best in each other. Proverbs 14:1 says, "The wise woman builds her house, but the foolish one tears it down with her own hands." And that, folks, is the truth, the Whole Truth, and NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH!
1) No matter how heated the argument, don't throw bowls of applesauce at your husband (even if they are plastic bowls). By the way, tossing ice water on him is also inadvisable.
2) When you get angry, never, never tell your husband that you are taking the kids to your mom's house because after you pack the suitcases, you know that you will just drive around the block and then the kids will be mad at you when they don't get to go to Grandma's house.
3) If you tend to bang things around when you get upset, register for the cheapest, thinnest Teflon ware you can find. The heavy stainless steel pots will leave dents on counter tops.
Good heavens! Of course I didn't say all those things...Whoever heard of such nonsense? As if anything like that would ever happen within the bonds of Holy Matrimony? Ignore me completely. I'm simply delusional...I'll just go and take my little white pill RIGHT NOW!
Back to what I was saying ~ By far, the most popular admonition for the bride and groom was that they "Be completely honest with each other." Well-meaning guests said, "Lay things out on the table." "Don't hold back." "Tell each other whatever you're thinking." Of course, like a little bobble head, I smiled and nodded approvingly, "Yes, yes, of course this is so important. Honesty in marriage is so important."
Hours later, I got to thinking about this and realized I Totally Disagree! In fact, this may be one of the WORST pieces of advice anyone could ever give an about-to-be-married couple (well, the
tidbit about the thin Teflon pans would probably be a close second). My marriage is strong today because of all the things my husband HASN'T told me! Yep! You heard that right. My husband is not completely honest with me, and it is GOOD for our marriage.
In 10 years of marriage, my husband has rarely expressed anger towards me. He has NEVER sat me down to discuss something "You should be doing differently." He once said that he does not typically point out weaknesses "because most people already know what they are doing wrong." In case you're wondering, my husband isn't perfect. Trust me, I know all too well the perils of sitting on a toilet in the dark of the night! Can anyone say, "Splash???" But, imperfections aside, my husband knows the power of keeping his mouth shut and his heart open.
There was one piece of advice offered at the dinner that was simply priceless. My mother confessed that after 25 years of pointing out my father's flaws, she discovered the folly of her own brand of "honesty." Quoting her favorite marriage verse, my mother admonished the bride and groom to always look for the best in each other. Proverbs 14:1 says, "The wise woman builds her house, but the foolish one tears it down with her own hands." And that, folks, is the truth, the Whole Truth, and NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Lesson from St. Louis
I recently did something that most young moms only dream about...I went on a trip ALL BY MYSELF! Yes, I know that this is shocking, unbelievable, and certainly a bit on the scandalous side. Please don't hate me or report me to the authorities. After all, I think it is against the law in the continental United States for mothers of little children to go anywhere on their own.
Truly, truly! The little people living in my house are on the police force payroll. Last I heard, they get big bonuses for following me EVERYWHERE. Bathroom surveillance is their specialty! I'm not sure how I managed to escape without being detected, but somehow I found myself headed to the airport sans mini-guard.
You can believe that I took my freedom seriously! I ate when I was hungry. I slept when I was tired. I woke up when my eyes popped open all on their own. I bought a Good Housekeeping magazine and read it from cover to cover WITHOUT interruption. I consumed an entire muffin without sharing a single, solitary bite. And you can bet your bottom dollar that I went potty ALONE! It was glorious, liberating, invigorating, and...
Boring. Lonely. Tiring.
Yes, I actually got tired of being by myself! There was something incredibly draining and depressing about only looking out for Numero Uno. The silence was deafening. I offered the lady at the Quizno's kiosk five dollars if she would just beg me for a snack, a piece of gum, a drink, a toy, ANYTHING! But she just looked at me like I was out of my mind.
There was a little girl who looked like she'd be willing to stand outside the restroom door. knocking, and calling out, "Mommy, can I come in?" Unfortunately, her mother didn't look quite as accommodating, so I held my tongue. As I watched countless babies and toddlers strolling past in their Gracos, Maclarens, and Peg Peregos, it took every last ounce of self restraint to keep from committing a Random Walk-By Kissing (which, in case you are wondering, is also against the law).
It was an important, life-changing lesson, one I will not soon forget. I have said to my husband on more than one occasion, "I'm just not cut out for this motherhood stuff! I'm not organized enough. I'm not patient enough. I'm not Betty-Crockerish enough. By golly, I can't even sew! What was I thinking when I signed up for this?!!!"
Sometimes I've truly thought that this crazy Mom Life is something I mistakenly chose for myself. God had to take me all the way to St. Louis, Missouri, to reveal that it was not my choice at all but rather His Perfect gift to me. I am learning to receive it with JOY! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be heading to the restroom with my entourage...
Truly, truly! The little people living in my house are on the police force payroll. Last I heard, they get big bonuses for following me EVERYWHERE. Bathroom surveillance is their specialty! I'm not sure how I managed to escape without being detected, but somehow I found myself headed to the airport sans mini-guard.
You can believe that I took my freedom seriously! I ate when I was hungry. I slept when I was tired. I woke up when my eyes popped open all on their own. I bought a Good Housekeeping magazine and read it from cover to cover WITHOUT interruption. I consumed an entire muffin without sharing a single, solitary bite. And you can bet your bottom dollar that I went potty ALONE! It was glorious, liberating, invigorating, and...
Boring. Lonely. Tiring.
Yes, I actually got tired of being by myself! There was something incredibly draining and depressing about only looking out for Numero Uno. The silence was deafening. I offered the lady at the Quizno's kiosk five dollars if she would just beg me for a snack, a piece of gum, a drink, a toy, ANYTHING! But she just looked at me like I was out of my mind.
There was a little girl who looked like she'd be willing to stand outside the restroom door. knocking, and calling out, "Mommy, can I come in?" Unfortunately, her mother didn't look quite as accommodating, so I held my tongue. As I watched countless babies and toddlers strolling past in their Gracos, Maclarens, and Peg Peregos, it took every last ounce of self restraint to keep from committing a Random Walk-By Kissing (which, in case you are wondering, is also against the law).
It was an important, life-changing lesson, one I will not soon forget. I have said to my husband on more than one occasion, "I'm just not cut out for this motherhood stuff! I'm not organized enough. I'm not patient enough. I'm not Betty-Crockerish enough. By golly, I can't even sew! What was I thinking when I signed up for this?!!!"
Sometimes I've truly thought that this crazy Mom Life is something I mistakenly chose for myself. God had to take me all the way to St. Louis, Missouri, to reveal that it was not my choice at all but rather His Perfect gift to me. I am learning to receive it with JOY! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be heading to the restroom with my entourage...
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