Said way better then I could. Be blessed all.
xoxoxo
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Not allowed...
Being the youngest in my family, I tend to have an over riding need to be liked. I am just "me" centered enough to think everyone should like me and accept me...of course, since no one is liked by everyone, I had spent a great deal of my life feeling badly when I wasn't liked.
Until I was in my mid-thirties, I honestly needed that constant affirmation. Why? I am sure I could spend a few hundred blog posts on rejection and what that does to a heart. But I don't feel like it. My blog and all that!
But somewhere between a Beth Moore bible study and sitting at my blog, I realized that I am highly favored and accepted by the only One that matters. I also love that Beth's friends call her "Beth-la-ham!" Nothing wrong with being a ham as long as it is just you being you, not you needing the attention.
Now being as sanguine as I am, I also happen to believe that what God has shown me, He intends for me to share...thus the book, the blog...the mouth that I have! But I've also discovered that some of what He shows me, while shared, may not get feedback from anyone but Him.
At some point though, I also stopped trying to get others to behave the way that would make me feel the most comfortable in my skin. I learned this in the back of church one afternoon while sitting next to my girlfriends husband. He is not a talker and I think mindless chatter annoys him. In the past, I would have done everything I could to engage him and "put him at ease"...until I realized he already was at ease. He is quite comfortable in his own skin, thank you Miss Chatty pants. So I did the most extraordinary thing in that sanctuary. I mean I went all the way to plaid to make this man comfortable. Yes, I sat there and shut up. I know. What a gift of selflessness I showed! I have no doubt that my gift will be source of reflection for all of you as the days go on. Go ahead, meditate on it. I understand.
It became clear to me that my "putting people at ease" is often more about putting me at ease. I adore another sanguine-ite. Laugh at my jokes or at the least, smile at me and my loyalty is yours. Ack, now I have gone and exposed my heart here for all the world to see. Nothing makes me more insecure then not being able to make someone laugh. It is actually quite easy to get rid of me. There now you know. Don't laugh or smile at me when we first meet and you are rid of me. For those of you who will comment on here, "If I only knew it was that easy." Tough, your stuck with me now!
A sure fire way to grow some thicker skin is to write a book no one reads. Or better still, get a couple of rejection letters...Oy, that'll show you quick enough your own heart. Now that is humbling and it will either cause you to quit or dig into love Him all the more.
All of that back ground to say, I have found myself in a shut up mode at home. I have a child here who has pushed my last button. And I am pretty sure that another speech from me would only produce the sound of the teacher from "Peanuts" in her ears: "Mwa, mwa, mwa, mwa, mwaaaaaaaaaa." So, I am just quiet with her.
There is quiet and then there is quiet with a chip of "don't even think about talking to me." Yeah, I am in the latter.
I know, as a mom, I don't get to shut down. I don't get to go into self-protection mode. The moment there was a child, there was a love and love never fails. It is there in season and out of season. But it isn't always that warm hug thing either. Sometimes love means the "put up or shut up" in our lives.
So while I am quiet with this child, I won't be with our God. Given that He made me and this mouth of mine, I plan to use in front of Him in just about an hour or so. When the hubby and kids are all out the door, I have a plan to bring Him my complaint...and then I think I will shut up again. Just to sit and be silent before Him, with out the chip. I know He gives wisdom to whomever asks...and He gives a lot of it, sometimes more then our hearts can imagine.
As Tennyson put it, "In thy wisdom, make me wise."
Until I was in my mid-thirties, I honestly needed that constant affirmation. Why? I am sure I could spend a few hundred blog posts on rejection and what that does to a heart. But I don't feel like it. My blog and all that!
But somewhere between a Beth Moore bible study and sitting at my blog, I realized that I am highly favored and accepted by the only One that matters. I also love that Beth's friends call her "Beth-la-ham!" Nothing wrong with being a ham as long as it is just you being you, not you needing the attention.
Now being as sanguine as I am, I also happen to believe that what God has shown me, He intends for me to share...thus the book, the blog...the mouth that I have! But I've also discovered that some of what He shows me, while shared, may not get feedback from anyone but Him.
At some point though, I also stopped trying to get others to behave the way that would make me feel the most comfortable in my skin. I learned this in the back of church one afternoon while sitting next to my girlfriends husband. He is not a talker and I think mindless chatter annoys him. In the past, I would have done everything I could to engage him and "put him at ease"...until I realized he already was at ease. He is quite comfortable in his own skin, thank you Miss Chatty pants. So I did the most extraordinary thing in that sanctuary. I mean I went all the way to plaid to make this man comfortable. Yes, I sat there and shut up. I know. What a gift of selflessness I showed! I have no doubt that my gift will be source of reflection for all of you as the days go on. Go ahead, meditate on it. I understand.
It became clear to me that my "putting people at ease" is often more about putting me at ease. I adore another sanguine-ite. Laugh at my jokes or at the least, smile at me and my loyalty is yours. Ack, now I have gone and exposed my heart here for all the world to see. Nothing makes me more insecure then not being able to make someone laugh. It is actually quite easy to get rid of me. There now you know. Don't laugh or smile at me when we first meet and you are rid of me. For those of you who will comment on here, "If I only knew it was that easy." Tough, your stuck with me now!
A sure fire way to grow some thicker skin is to write a book no one reads. Or better still, get a couple of rejection letters...Oy, that'll show you quick enough your own heart. Now that is humbling and it will either cause you to quit or dig into love Him all the more.
All of that back ground to say, I have found myself in a shut up mode at home. I have a child here who has pushed my last button. And I am pretty sure that another speech from me would only produce the sound of the teacher from "Peanuts" in her ears: "Mwa, mwa, mwa, mwa, mwaaaaaaaaaa." So, I am just quiet with her.
There is quiet and then there is quiet with a chip of "don't even think about talking to me." Yeah, I am in the latter.
I know, as a mom, I don't get to shut down. I don't get to go into self-protection mode. The moment there was a child, there was a love and love never fails. It is there in season and out of season. But it isn't always that warm hug thing either. Sometimes love means the "put up or shut up" in our lives.
So while I am quiet with this child, I won't be with our God. Given that He made me and this mouth of mine, I plan to use in front of Him in just about an hour or so. When the hubby and kids are all out the door, I have a plan to bring Him my complaint...and then I think I will shut up again. Just to sit and be silent before Him, with out the chip. I know He gives wisdom to whomever asks...and He gives a lot of it, sometimes more then our hearts can imagine.
As Tennyson put it, "In thy wisdom, make me wise."
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
It's Tuesday already...
and you know what that means...Yes, it is no longer Monday. Duh. Yesterday, I went to the dentist...Ugh.
One would think that a temporary cap would last longer then seven years. As I waited for the decision of what to do with this tooth, I made a heart felt discovery: While there may be no atheists in foxholes, there are very few in dentists chairs either. I tell our God-sent-dentist all the time, that I hate his job and would hate him too, if I didn't love him so much.
It struck me while I was in that dental chair (I keep busy thinking up stuff to blog on) how amazing things in our nation are or at least how they have been in the past and we hope to keep or restore them. Maybe it is all the Brother Andrew-behind-the-Iron-Curtain reading that has me looking at things through the lens of a patriot again, but some things are just plain screwy around here.
Being the ever so un-PC couple that we are, we have enjoyed the fruit of John's hard work. Some of it we have done right and some of it we have done so wrong, that I think I will just keep that part to my self, thank you very much.
But but we have faced our debt giant with one thing in mind: CUT, CUT, CUT everywhere and anywhere we can...unless we don't "feel" like it and then we SPEND, SPEND, SPEND everywhere and anywhere we "feel" like doing so. Humility has not come cheap for us and we are so grateful to know that while we have made some rooky mistakes, we are on our way...to what?
I asked John last night, "So, is this it? Is this the crazy life we are now in and this is just the way it is going to be? What are we waiting for? When are we going to be satisfied?"
We talked most of the night, and I have only a few answers. I like some of them and others have left me wondering still more about the condition of our hearts.
I have a huge kitchen. Way bigger then my grandmothers or even the little thing I was cooking in just five years ago. My stove is just fine, even if I do need to screw back on the handle now and a than. But I want a commercial/professional stove...
John (or is it Jack?) has season tickets to the JETS or at least we think they are the JETS...they could be just ants running on the field dowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwn below. They get to have a ball going to the games together with life long friends...But they would love to be in the first row.
My Kia is paid for. It is 9 years old and while I have to maintain it, it is just fine. It gets me where I need to go...But I want a Yukon.
Is this where contentment meets the road? Is this where our nation is on a whole? We provide a tax payer, paid education to every child...but not every child has a Bronxville school district. Some districts are just better off then others. Can we have a national standard? No. Not really. The Department of Education has only been in service since 1979 and it has messed things up royally. It has not improved our lives one stitch has it? Are things more fair now then they were? No, I don't think so. Use to be that local school districts decided what was the priority and now Washington does. Here in NY the only way we will ever have a decent math protocol is if we fight the state...Sigh. Are things fair? Yes, actually they are.
Not everyone gets the commercial stove or the good JETS tickets or the Yukon. Or the Bronxville education. But I do get to cook some darn good food on my stove, and we all get to watch the game and my car drives us where it needs to. And as far as the education goes...we pay extra to help our son get the help he needs. The truth is Jack would be rubber stamped from one grade to the next because it all comes back to funding. We have made paying for the extra, cash only please, our priority.
Things can be fair with out being equal. We can all be glad when we have the joy of His presence. John and I have a wonderful life here...now it is a matter of the heart and being satisfied with all He has granted us.
Something happened in our hearts. It is still new and we are going to make mistakes...I just happen to know that no matter how many projects we do on the house or how many things we acquire, the luxury is in knowing Him, not in our standard of cooking, sports, transportation or education. I don't think I am alone in this. Something has happened, and I think it may have begun in our nation as well. Hope and change cannot come from a government program. They can only happen in our hearts.
One would think that a temporary cap would last longer then seven years. As I waited for the decision of what to do with this tooth, I made a heart felt discovery: While there may be no atheists in foxholes, there are very few in dentists chairs either. I tell our God-sent-dentist all the time, that I hate his job and would hate him too, if I didn't love him so much.
It struck me while I was in that dental chair (I keep busy thinking up stuff to blog on) how amazing things in our nation are or at least how they have been in the past and we hope to keep or restore them. Maybe it is all the Brother Andrew-behind-the-Iron-Curtain reading that has me looking at things through the lens of a patriot again, but some things are just plain screwy around here.
Being the ever so un-PC couple that we are, we have enjoyed the fruit of John's hard work. Some of it we have done right and some of it we have done so wrong, that I think I will just keep that part to my self, thank you very much.
But but we have faced our debt giant with one thing in mind: CUT, CUT, CUT everywhere and anywhere we can...unless we don't "feel" like it and then we SPEND, SPEND, SPEND everywhere and anywhere we "feel" like doing so. Humility has not come cheap for us and we are so grateful to know that while we have made some rooky mistakes, we are on our way...to what?
I asked John last night, "So, is this it? Is this the crazy life we are now in and this is just the way it is going to be? What are we waiting for? When are we going to be satisfied?"
We talked most of the night, and I have only a few answers. I like some of them and others have left me wondering still more about the condition of our hearts.
I have a huge kitchen. Way bigger then my grandmothers or even the little thing I was cooking in just five years ago. My stove is just fine, even if I do need to screw back on the handle now and a than. But I want a commercial/professional stove...
John (or is it Jack?) has season tickets to the JETS or at least we think they are the JETS...they could be just ants running on the field dowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwn below. They get to have a ball going to the games together with life long friends...But they would love to be in the first row.
My Kia is paid for. It is 9 years old and while I have to maintain it, it is just fine. It gets me where I need to go...But I want a Yukon.
Is this where contentment meets the road? Is this where our nation is on a whole? We provide a tax payer, paid education to every child...but not every child has a Bronxville school district. Some districts are just better off then others. Can we have a national standard? No. Not really. The Department of Education has only been in service since 1979 and it has messed things up royally. It has not improved our lives one stitch has it? Are things more fair now then they were? No, I don't think so. Use to be that local school districts decided what was the priority and now Washington does. Here in NY the only way we will ever have a decent math protocol is if we fight the state...Sigh. Are things fair? Yes, actually they are.
Not everyone gets the commercial stove or the good JETS tickets or the Yukon. Or the Bronxville education. But I do get to cook some darn good food on my stove, and we all get to watch the game and my car drives us where it needs to. And as far as the education goes...we pay extra to help our son get the help he needs. The truth is Jack would be rubber stamped from one grade to the next because it all comes back to funding. We have made paying for the extra, cash only please, our priority.
Things can be fair with out being equal. We can all be glad when we have the joy of His presence. John and I have a wonderful life here...now it is a matter of the heart and being satisfied with all He has granted us.
Something happened in our hearts. It is still new and we are going to make mistakes...I just happen to know that no matter how many projects we do on the house or how many things we acquire, the luxury is in knowing Him, not in our standard of cooking, sports, transportation or education. I don't think I am alone in this. Something has happened, and I think it may have begun in our nation as well. Hope and change cannot come from a government program. They can only happen in our hearts.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Some days...
Waiting on God is hard.
Trusting God is harder.
Believing in His plan is harder still.
Some days, I can't, in my own fleshy self believe another moment that everything will work to the good for me, even though I love Him and have been called according to His good purpose.
Some days, I believe I AM all I have to work things out.
No one understands.
John doesn't get it.
Kids don't get it.
Even the darn dog is all about the darn dog.
Some days, the burdens are too heavy to give over because I don't really trust that He has a plan after all...
And so, some days, I cry. Not "why me" tears. Just the tears of my own frustration convinced I've been asked to be Sara walking into that tent. The thing is, she went in, knowing it was all wrong...
It leaves me wondering: how long was she in that tent pretending to be a concubine for the king? Did she change into something less comfortable? Did she cry? Did she try to make small talk with the other concubines?
"So does your back ever bother you, given your profession?"
"Nice tassels. Are they hard to keep on?"
"Do you all have a union or are you independent contractors? 1099?"
I also wonder if she walked out of that tent, smacked Abram upside the head and called him an ass.
The thing is, even when Abram was having his moment of stooooooooooooooped, Sara obeyed. And God kept her, AS WELL AS ABRAM, from harm. Why?
I know I've talked about these two before. But I adore Sara...maybe because the first account of laughter, sarcastic laughter at that, in The Word was by Sara. God's plan was off the charts crazy and she laughed in disbelief at the very idea of it.
"A baby? Yeah, right! LOL!"
And yet, here we are all these years later still talking about that baby.
Some days Psalm 62 sets me straight...when I don't understand, when I can't see a way:
"My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him.
He only is my rock and my salvation: he is my defence; I shall not be moved.
In God is my salvation and my glory: the rock of my strength, and my refuge, is in God."
Some days, I remember He is the only source of my honor...Some days I need the reminder.
P.S. For the record, John has not asked me to "step into a tent" of any illicit kind! Don't be stupid, I've had five kids...Sara hadn't had any yet, she might have been old, but I bet she was still hot! Duh.
Trusting God is harder.
Believing in His plan is harder still.
Some days, I can't, in my own fleshy self believe another moment that everything will work to the good for me, even though I love Him and have been called according to His good purpose.
Some days, I believe I AM all I have to work things out.
No one understands.
John doesn't get it.
Kids don't get it.
Even the darn dog is all about the darn dog.
Some days, the burdens are too heavy to give over because I don't really trust that He has a plan after all...
And so, some days, I cry. Not "why me" tears. Just the tears of my own frustration convinced I've been asked to be Sara walking into that tent. The thing is, she went in, knowing it was all wrong...
It leaves me wondering: how long was she in that tent pretending to be a concubine for the king? Did she change into something less comfortable? Did she cry? Did she try to make small talk with the other concubines?
"So does your back ever bother you, given your profession?"
"Nice tassels. Are they hard to keep on?"
"Do you all have a union or are you independent contractors? 1099?"
I also wonder if she walked out of that tent, smacked Abram upside the head and called him an ass.
The thing is, even when Abram was having his moment of stooooooooooooooped, Sara obeyed. And God kept her, AS WELL AS ABRAM, from harm. Why?
I know I've talked about these two before. But I adore Sara...maybe because the first account of laughter, sarcastic laughter at that, in The Word was by Sara. God's plan was off the charts crazy and she laughed in disbelief at the very idea of it.
"A baby? Yeah, right! LOL!"
And yet, here we are all these years later still talking about that baby.
Some days Psalm 62 sets me straight...when I don't understand, when I can't see a way:
"My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him.
He only is my rock and my salvation: he is my defence; I shall not be moved.
In God is my salvation and my glory: the rock of my strength, and my refuge, is in God."
Some days, I remember He is the only source of my honor...Some days I need the reminder.
P.S. For the record, John has not asked me to "step into a tent" of any illicit kind! Don't be stupid, I've had five kids...Sara hadn't had any yet, she might have been old, but I bet she was still hot! Duh.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Pride vs...well pride.
We've all busted with it at some point. I think I've busted it onto the blog a few times, especially about my kids and certainly about my husband...
"My son, my son!" My mom use to tease about her beloved son...yeah, I wanted to knock the two of them upside the head...of course that was until I had one myself and now: "My son, my son!" I have no doubt the girls would like to knock me upside the head too!
I recently read a fictional story of Mary and her own "My Son, My Son!" and the conviction on her heart that He was His, not hers...wow.
I think we mommies and wives run a thin line here over pride in our kids:
"Look what a fine job I have done in raising them!"
Or as wives:
"Look at my catch! I have done a fine job in training him!"
Sigh...
When we stand in our own pride over what a fine job we are doing we miss the point entirely. I have taken great "pride" in teaching Jack to read. I worked hard at it. I did good, darn it all, I did very, very, good.
Or perhaps my God gave me the knowledge to do good, to learn how to teach, to use just the right tools to reach a child with profound dyslexia...Maybe IT was all about Him in the first place.
I look at my home, my family, my accounts...they are all His. Any good I do, is based in Him. I am only able because He gives me the ability to do so. Even my faith is gift from Him. I am not the great I AM. I'm nothing.
The fact that he can use this jar of clay, made of filthy dirt, is, in and of itself, a miracle. That He would use the least of these to do anything at all is astounding.
The only righteousness I have is because of Him and even the righteousness isn't mine...it's His.
I had wanted to brag on Liz today and her plans to start college in the Fall of 2011. I had wanted to brag on Jack today and how hard he is working this year in school. I had wanted to brag on beautiful Brennan-Fiona today and her birthday wishes coming true...and on Caity and on Maggie and on John...
Instead, I am going to leave it all alone...leave it at the foot of the cross and brag on my Jesus...that He would even love me is brag enough for a Thursday. He has never needed me to do a thing. The fact that He has asked me to join Him in His work at all is not brag worthy...it is nothing short of humbling. Glory.
"My son, my son!" My mom use to tease about her beloved son...yeah, I wanted to knock the two of them upside the head...of course that was until I had one myself and now: "My son, my son!" I have no doubt the girls would like to knock me upside the head too!
I recently read a fictional story of Mary and her own "My Son, My Son!" and the conviction on her heart that He was His, not hers...wow.
I think we mommies and wives run a thin line here over pride in our kids:
"Look what a fine job I have done in raising them!"
Or as wives:
"Look at my catch! I have done a fine job in training him!"
Sigh...
When we stand in our own pride over what a fine job we are doing we miss the point entirely. I have taken great "pride" in teaching Jack to read. I worked hard at it. I did good, darn it all, I did very, very, good.
Or perhaps my God gave me the knowledge to do good, to learn how to teach, to use just the right tools to reach a child with profound dyslexia...Maybe IT was all about Him in the first place.
I look at my home, my family, my accounts...they are all His. Any good I do, is based in Him. I am only able because He gives me the ability to do so. Even my faith is gift from Him. I am not the great I AM. I'm nothing.
The fact that he can use this jar of clay, made of filthy dirt, is, in and of itself, a miracle. That He would use the least of these to do anything at all is astounding.
The only righteousness I have is because of Him and even the righteousness isn't mine...it's His.
I had wanted to brag on Liz today and her plans to start college in the Fall of 2011. I had wanted to brag on Jack today and how hard he is working this year in school. I had wanted to brag on beautiful Brennan-Fiona today and her birthday wishes coming true...and on Caity and on Maggie and on John...
Instead, I am going to leave it all alone...leave it at the foot of the cross and brag on my Jesus...that He would even love me is brag enough for a Thursday. He has never needed me to do a thing. The fact that He has asked me to join Him in His work at all is not brag worthy...it is nothing short of humbling. Glory.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Queen has spoken!
There is this nifty little thing on the blog here that shows the stats of what countries are viewing it.
We have been to China, Russia, Holland, Ireland and Israel amongst other places! We should have some kind of jet lag by now. Hope it all translates well. Not sure Yonkers can be understood by anyone except me, but so far so good!
Now if only I could translate "Knock it off!" into the hearts and minds of the teens in my house.
We are in a season of bickering...if you follow the blog, you know that life is being lived at break neck speed around here of late. Bad enough I can't finish a thought but when that half a thought is broken into by an argument about tooth paste, this mama has gone postal. I have been known to go so postal I think we need a new name for it:
Going plaid (a shout out to Space Balls...immature, yes, but again, my blog and I like plaid.)
Going Maryellen (it fits)
Going Maghoo on a lunch bag (damn dog)
Going retiree on a pension that is late.
Going ex-smoker with out a patch.
Going bad hair cut before the prom...
Going JETS on the Pats (great game)
Going Maggie on the seagull who stole her sandwich at the beach (like Snoopy at the Red Baron)
Okay, that's all I got. Chime in. Winner gets something...not sure what.
Can you feel the frustration around here? I actually told two of my children they have to shut up their lips (I hate to just say "shut up" 'cause it sounds so harsh) for the remainder of the day in my house. When they get home from school, they have to go to their rooms and not to talk to any one. They have hit my last nerve.
I am so heartsick and aggravated by the bickering that it makes my head hang in shame. "No amount of success in ministry is worth failure at home." As per my pal (she has no idea how close we are...) Beth Moore. It makes no difference if this blog is read on Mars, if I fail at home in my ministry as mom.
So what is the answer? Jesus of course. But the girls are at an age now where we can do family devotions and bring them to church but only they can make a decision to be in The Word or in constant communication with Him. I can't make them pray, I can't make them be alone with Him, and I can make them seek Him out in His Word....
But I can pray. I have no doubt the Holy Spirit lives in them. I have no doubt that the Holy Spirit can quicken their spirits as quickly as He can quicken mine. I can pray they don't feel like the they need to dig in and be top dog around here...we already have Mr. Maghoo for that. John and I can put them in their rooms all we want. But ultimately it will be a battle won our knees.
I never had a sister. I got to be the princess no matter what. My girls each have three sisters and seem to need to establish themselves as head princess in any given war, be it over toothpaste, hair brushes or wardrobe.
As the queen mother, I have a royal duty to pray, often and with out stopping. Praying always, in season and out. As I scrub a floor or bake a cookie, praying for the spirit of the alpha dog to be banished in our home, banished to the cross for Jesus to deal with.
In the meantime, as I pray, I also have a list of chores the Irish Princess crowd can hit before dinner.
We have been to China, Russia, Holland, Ireland and Israel amongst other places! We should have some kind of jet lag by now. Hope it all translates well. Not sure Yonkers can be understood by anyone except me, but so far so good!
Now if only I could translate "Knock it off!" into the hearts and minds of the teens in my house.
We are in a season of bickering...if you follow the blog, you know that life is being lived at break neck speed around here of late. Bad enough I can't finish a thought but when that half a thought is broken into by an argument about tooth paste, this mama has gone postal. I have been known to go so postal I think we need a new name for it:
Going plaid (a shout out to Space Balls...immature, yes, but again, my blog and I like plaid.)
Going Maryellen (it fits)
Going Maghoo on a lunch bag (damn dog)
Going retiree on a pension that is late.
Going ex-smoker with out a patch.
Going bad hair cut before the prom...
Going JETS on the Pats (great game)
Going Maggie on the seagull who stole her sandwich at the beach (like Snoopy at the Red Baron)
Okay, that's all I got. Chime in. Winner gets something...not sure what.
Can you feel the frustration around here? I actually told two of my children they have to shut up their lips (I hate to just say "shut up" 'cause it sounds so harsh) for the remainder of the day in my house. When they get home from school, they have to go to their rooms and not to talk to any one. They have hit my last nerve.
I am so heartsick and aggravated by the bickering that it makes my head hang in shame. "No amount of success in ministry is worth failure at home." As per my pal (she has no idea how close we are...) Beth Moore. It makes no difference if this blog is read on Mars, if I fail at home in my ministry as mom.
So what is the answer? Jesus of course. But the girls are at an age now where we can do family devotions and bring them to church but only they can make a decision to be in The Word or in constant communication with Him. I can't make them pray, I can't make them be alone with Him, and I can make them seek Him out in His Word....
But I can pray. I have no doubt the Holy Spirit lives in them. I have no doubt that the Holy Spirit can quicken their spirits as quickly as He can quicken mine. I can pray they don't feel like the they need to dig in and be top dog around here...we already have Mr. Maghoo for that. John and I can put them in their rooms all we want. But ultimately it will be a battle won our knees.
I never had a sister. I got to be the princess no matter what. My girls each have three sisters and seem to need to establish themselves as head princess in any given war, be it over toothpaste, hair brushes or wardrobe.
As the queen mother, I have a royal duty to pray, often and with out stopping. Praying always, in season and out. As I scrub a floor or bake a cookie, praying for the spirit of the alpha dog to be banished in our home, banished to the cross for Jesus to deal with.
In the meantime, as I pray, I also have a list of chores the Irish Princess crowd can hit before dinner.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Save the last dance for Him...
According to my friend Jennifer, it is new wine Friday and that means we get to try a new wine! Of course it will have to wait until after...
Dinner (x's5)
AWANA (x's1)
TREC (x's1)
Football (x's1)
See you at the pole rally (x's3)
Once everyone is where they need to be, I do believe John and I have 45 unspoken for (including driving time) minutes to our own selves...what ever will we do with a chunk of time that doesn't even have the courtesy to move the big hand all the way to the next number?
That reminds me, I have to make marshmallows and I have a nail appointment too...Sigh.
Yesterday, I got so much cleaning done, that I almost didn't make it to Shoprite and I had to go to Shoprite...I had coupons and I needed the dinner makings...besides, olive oil was on sale! But I had to be in and out.
I ran into Mrs. Neighbor and chatted with her as I pulled out of the street, drove the mile to the store, ran in between the rain drops and honed in on my mission: In and out before Maggie's bus pulled in to drop her off.
I was making my last run for the Ronzoni (at 67 cents a box, I needed 12 boxes) and I ran smack into a young woman from church. I just adore this sweet young thing. She is so beautiful and so young...like we were once. She is a student nurse so of course I love her all the more. Remember being twentysomething? Yeah, me too. I wouldn't go back to that, except for the size 2 jeans for anything! It seemed to me that God had ordained that time for she and I to chat.
I made it back to meet Maggie with five minutes to spare! She and I went into the house, arranged the sunflowers I had bought into the wall vases, watched for Jack's bus and it was back out the door to start grabbing teens so we could go to the orthodontist.
I keep going back to the fact that He will direct my steps...OOOH! Join my holy imagination with me for just a moment, won't you?
In the arms of my savior, dressed in the finest of silk, He skips me around the floor, and dips me into the first pick up of one of my children, he swoons me toward the drop off of another. As I trip the Light fantastic with Him, His arm never leaves my back and His strong hand holds mine erect and He spins me toward the next event on my list of to-dos. Yes, He leads...
Dinner becomes a choreographed dance between Savior and beloved that would put Fred and Ginger to shame. He leaps me toward the dishes and the next days lunches.
He is smiling at me and it makes me wonder why I am missing the joy of the dance...there is a joy in the dance. Yet all I have done is meditate on memorizing the steps and I have missed the dance. I've been working so hard at leading Him. He pulls me toward the next leap, the next spin, the next...and the timing is perfect and the steps are smooth even when I try to pull away, He presses my hand ever so gently and the small of my back is led, never pushed toward the next turn...He is always a Gentleman...He never forces me to step this way or that.
He has never danced my soul to exhaustion. His is the very air I breath and only my steps leave me breathless. His freshens my soul. The dance freshens the spirit even while the body rests at the end of the day.
I need to go strap on my dancing shoes to start my day, blessed by the image of my Savior who will choreograph my day, one time step at a time. Ohhh, the music has already started to play. I think we will be dancing a jitterbug today... and the wine is ready to be poured tonight into our cups, held by Jesus.
Praise His name with dancing! (Ps 149:3)
Dinner (x's5)
AWANA (x's1)
TREC (x's1)
Football (x's1)
See you at the pole rally (x's3)
Once everyone is where they need to be, I do believe John and I have 45 unspoken for (including driving time) minutes to our own selves...what ever will we do with a chunk of time that doesn't even have the courtesy to move the big hand all the way to the next number?
That reminds me, I have to make marshmallows and I have a nail appointment too...Sigh.
Yesterday, I got so much cleaning done, that I almost didn't make it to Shoprite and I had to go to Shoprite...I had coupons and I needed the dinner makings...besides, olive oil was on sale! But I had to be in and out.
I ran into Mrs. Neighbor and chatted with her as I pulled out of the street, drove the mile to the store, ran in between the rain drops and honed in on my mission: In and out before Maggie's bus pulled in to drop her off.
I was making my last run for the Ronzoni (at 67 cents a box, I needed 12 boxes) and I ran smack into a young woman from church. I just adore this sweet young thing. She is so beautiful and so young...like we were once. She is a student nurse so of course I love her all the more. Remember being twentysomething? Yeah, me too. I wouldn't go back to that, except for the size 2 jeans for anything! It seemed to me that God had ordained that time for she and I to chat.
I made it back to meet Maggie with five minutes to spare! She and I went into the house, arranged the sunflowers I had bought into the wall vases, watched for Jack's bus and it was back out the door to start grabbing teens so we could go to the orthodontist.
I keep going back to the fact that He will direct my steps...OOOH! Join my holy imagination with me for just a moment, won't you?
In the arms of my savior, dressed in the finest of silk, He skips me around the floor, and dips me into the first pick up of one of my children, he swoons me toward the drop off of another. As I trip the Light fantastic with Him, His arm never leaves my back and His strong hand holds mine erect and He spins me toward the next event on my list of to-dos. Yes, He leads...
Dinner becomes a choreographed dance between Savior and beloved that would put Fred and Ginger to shame. He leaps me toward the dishes and the next days lunches.
He is smiling at me and it makes me wonder why I am missing the joy of the dance...there is a joy in the dance. Yet all I have done is meditate on memorizing the steps and I have missed the dance. I've been working so hard at leading Him. He pulls me toward the next leap, the next spin, the next...and the timing is perfect and the steps are smooth even when I try to pull away, He presses my hand ever so gently and the small of my back is led, never pushed toward the next turn...He is always a Gentleman...He never forces me to step this way or that.
He has never danced my soul to exhaustion. His is the very air I breath and only my steps leave me breathless. His freshens my soul. The dance freshens the spirit even while the body rests at the end of the day.
I need to go strap on my dancing shoes to start my day, blessed by the image of my Savior who will choreograph my day, one time step at a time. Ohhh, the music has already started to play. I think we will be dancing a jitterbug today... and the wine is ready to be poured tonight into our cups, held by Jesus.
Praise His name with dancing! (Ps 149:3)
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