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!"???

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 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!

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...

Can you hear me now???

Some people are hard of hearing. I would have to say that I am "hard of listening." It's a confirmed disorder you know, and completely genetic! My dad has it. I have it. My son is showing signs of the problem. It's really quite a pandemic around here.

Case in point - A transcript of a recent conversation with my son:

"It's time for bed. Put your pajamas on. Fold your clothes and put them ON TOP OF THE DRESSER. Where are you supposed to put your clothes?"

"In the dresser?"

"No, put them ON TOP OF THE DRESSER! Now, what are you supposed to do?"

"Put my undies in the dirty laundry?"

"Excellent idea! But, what are you supposed to do with the rest of your clothes?"

"Put them in my dresser?"

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!" (At this point, the conversation ends and the paddy wagon arrives to cart me off to the loony bin! Ha, ha!)

I suppose it's only poetic justice that the good Lord gave me a child like this! I am notorious for "listening" with half an ear and my brain tied behind my back. I can't even count the number of times my husband has said, "I asked you about that last week. Don't you remember saying yes???" And he's absolutely right! I do it all the time. I'll be at the computer or in the kitchen, and either he or one of the children will be talking to me while I nod and mumble, "Oh, yes. Okay. Um hm."

The children love to take advantage of this! "Can we have some candy, Mama?"

"Oh yes. Okay. Um hm."

Then, off they trot with a bag of Tootsie Rolls! When I say, "What are doing with that candy?" They protest, "But you said, 'Yes,' Mama!" And they're right, I did say yes! Does "yes" count if you have half your brain tied behind your back?

The sad thing is that The Baby already knows about Mama's delicate condition. At the tender age of 22 months, he has already learned to take my face in his little hands and turn it until we are looking at each other, eye to eye. Somehow, he knows that if he can look me in the eyes,I'll be listening for sure. What a smart Baby!

Perhaps my "condition" is one of reasons I've always loved that old hymn ~ "Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look full in His wonderful face. And the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace." More than anything, I know that I have to stop what I'm doing, put my face in the hands of Jesus, and LISTEN to the One calling my name. I want Jesus to get more than an, "Oh yes, okay, um hm" from me.

"Speak Lord, for your servant is listening! I can hear you NOW!"

I Want Jesus, BUT....

I had a thought-provoking conversation with my 6 year old the other day. You know, one of those"Out of the Mouths of Babes" moments. I was in the car with my littles, just wandering around looking for the Art Museum. There was a song playing on the radio. For the life of me, I can't remember the exact name, but one of the lines said, "All that I want is Jesus."

A little voice piped up from the back seat, "That's not all I want. I want other stuff, too!" Now, I'm no candidate for the Spiritual Mother of the Year award, but when a Teachable Moment bites me on the nose, I try to respond.

Me: "What do you mean by that, Son?"

Son: "Well, I DO want Jesus. But I want other stuff too, like toys and monster trucks."

Talk about convicting! That's my heart in a nutshell. I want Jesus, but I want other stuff too. I want movies that are only a LITTLE off-color. I want Facebook, even if it interferes with my quiet time. I want new clothes and fancy cars and the best cosmetics and a killer hair-do and LOTS of other stuff. Makes me wonder if I really want Jesus at all.

I want Jesus on Sunday morning. I want Jesus during my quiet time (when I have time for it, that is). I want Jesus when my keys are locked in the car and when the airplane hits some turbulence and when my best friend is having surgery.

BUT, can I really say, "ALL that I want is Jesus?" By the grace of God, I pray that someday, Luke and I will both be able to answer with a resounding, "Yes! All that I want is You, Jesus! All that I want is You!"