How do they do it? Those women with the clean houses and orderly kids (or vice versa), work a job, make it to all family events, visit with friends, have breakfast with God, lunch with the girls and dinner out with the hubby. I don’t understand. They have the same 24 hours a day I do, and I have almost none of that.
The inspirational "help" books I’ve read say to get up earlier and spend time with God first. My spiritual side knows that if I do this, God will bless me and make it all work out. My flesh tells me if I get up any earlier I might as well not go to bed. And if I do try it, I will be so sleepy I will either doze off and end up being late, or I won’t be awake enough for it to do any good. The typical battle of flesh v. spirit.
Other so-called "help" books say to stay up and do it after putting the kids to bed. That would be great if my kids went to bed at 7:30! I get home from work 5:30 to 6:00, have supper done around 6:45, eat, clean up the kitchen, help with homework (during school months), wash/dry/fold/put up laundry, straighten up the main areas of the house, run to the store if we need milk before morning, and so on. My goal is to have the kids in the bed at 9:30, who knows what time they actually go to sleep. And, for you adult readers, I’m married (‘nuff said?). I’m always up way past the kids going to bed, which makes getting up earlier that much harder.
Just getting up, getting ready and making it out the door on time is a great accomplishment. The (first) alarm goes off at 5:00, the second at 5:30. On a good day, I get up then. If not, I’m at least up by 6. And it takes me an hour and a half to get ready - shower, coffee, makeup, hair, in that order. During school, throw in getting kids up and fed and out the door on time for school. Usually I leave home at 7:30, or 7:45 at the latest, to be at work at 8:00. Why on earth does it take so long? I’ve wondered that myself. I’ve tried to cut corners, find quicker ways of doing things, even skipping a step. All it does is leave me fidgety because I’m out of my routine. It ends up taking me longer to do less, plus leaves me feeling "undone" for the rest of the day. I’ve found a process that works, and I’m sticking to it. No apologies.
Setting aside a special day to take care of the big jobs, like cleaning, sounds like a good plan. I took a Saturday morning recently and did a quick (but good) dust, vacuum, sweep, clean bathrooms, get down cobwebs. Things looked good and I felt accomplished. That night - I see a cobweb hanging from the tv to the wall. Are you kidding me?!!! Why do I bother?!!! I know that was not there when I cleaned earlier because I got every possible and impossible place they could be. I got rid of that one and looked for any more I may have missed (or that had sprung up since that morning). I found several. So much for a leisurely Saturday night.
On those rare occasions when time seems to be on my side and I try to squeeze in some family time or a game night or just do some visiting, that means something usually doesn’t get done. Skipping a night of laundry to do something fun does not work. It just means that in the morning somebody will "have nothing to wear," and I’ll have twice as much to do tomorrow night. Delegate? Yeah right! Reward for helping? No money to pay with. Pitch a fit and make them help? They do the worst job possible just for spite, which leads to....well let’s not incriminate ourselves.
It’s a vicious cycle, and it’s taking its toll. Right now I don’t care if I get off the couch when I get home. I don’t want to; I don’t feel like it; get it yourself. We went to the beach for five days a couple weeks ago. I made it to the sand maybe four times, and actually got in the water all of twice. I did get to spend a lot of time with my family; however, it was not the physically and spiritually refreshing, regrouping vacation I was hoping for. I did a lot of sitting around, but not really resting. I actually wanted to be doing something. It just took too much effort.
Unfortunately, I feel like I do better when I have a full plate. It means I have to get out of bed every morning and make myself presentable for the world. When I try to prioritize and let go of things that are not essential to my spiritual and/or physical well-being - what do I let go of? I know the world won’t fall apart if I don’t do everything myself, but I don’t want to take any chances.
Let me clarify that this is not a pity party. This is not a case of simply feeling sorry for myself. God is very real to me right now. I have done my very best to put him first in everything I do. He has answered a lot prayers for me in the past week alone. I know I am blessed beyond measure, and I have things a lot better than a lot of people. There are just some things in my life that I can’t seem to get organized, or under control, or let loose, or kept the same, or changed, or whatever. Maybe I need help. Maybe this is normal. I don’t know. Maybe I just needed to ramble to try to sort this out and maybe get some new insight.
I feel like I need the equivalent of Super Nanny for time management. Somebody to come go through my day with me, see everything I do, then critique and tell me what I’m doing wrong and what needs to change. ‘Cause small changes don’t seem to be working for me. They are too close to not changing at all. I think I need to make major changes. Life-changing changes. I need help, but don’t know where to turn. Do I need a maid, a doctor, a child behavioral specialist, a psychiatrist? It all sounds so scary! I'm hoping for some advice from all you ladies (and gentlemen) who have this all figured out!
Thank you in advance.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
Surf's Up, Dude!
When we told Dylan we were going to the beach for vacation
this year, all he wanted to do was buy a board and catch some waves. I tried to explain to him that you don’t get
real surfing-type waves at Gulf Shores, but he was determined to ride
them. He finally conceded to skimming
over the shallow water on a boogie board.
Now that was his mission.
I know I have been to the beach several times in my life, but I really only remember the last trip, summer of 2009, and I was ready to go again. Floating on the waves during that trip was so relaxing and spiritual. I felt a connection with God there like I had not felt anywhere else. Thoughts about being out so far your feet don’t touch the bottom and you have to depend on your float to hold you up and carry you back to the shore. When my feet couldn’t touch, I did not have control of where I went. I just had to ride the waves to wherever they took me. That was the lesson I needed then.
So this trip I was looking for another spiritual awakening. Surely there’s another lesson on those waves, maybe even a good blog post (since I haven’t written anything in a while). Teaching the boys how to swim out and ride the waves back in. To not panic and just enjoy the ride. And when you land on the shore, just walk back to our spot on the beach. No big deal. Or maybe watching them learn to ride those boogie boards. I have no expertise in that area (surprise, surprise), and they could watch those who seem to know what they’re doing and get some pointers from them. Teaching them to respect other people’s property. Very few places you can actually just leave all your stuff laying in a pile under a tent for days at a time and nobody bother it. And even if they do borrow the little plastic shovel and bucket, they bring it back. Buy if they didn’t, there’s no hard feelings anywhere. Can’t even get that kind of peace in my own yard at home.
So I was looking for inspiration in everybody else’s circumstances, but I never thought I would get another lesson while doing the exact same thing as before, riding the waves. I was determined to paddle myself out into the deeper water, where my feet don’t touch the ground, and just lean back and relax. I pointed my float in the direction I wanted to go, paddled my arms, kicked my feet. Nothing. Still in the same spot. Hmm. That’s odd. I tried again. Same thing. Now this is getting embarrassing, and I’m getting a little tired. “Try one more time,” my mind told me. This time it seemed like the water was helping me. It felt like something under the water was pulling me out further and further. “Alright!” I thought. “Maybe I’ll finally get somewhere and I can enjoy myself out here like last time.” But a little ways out, I realized what was happening. Whatever was under the water pulling me out, was making the deep water deeper. It was feeding the swell that would become the next big wave. All of a sudden, I was lifted and moved. I thought I had landed back where I started, but I was actually closer to the shore than when I started.
So what lesson did I learn? Be careful of those currents under the surface you can’t see. They may appear to be helping you get where you want to go, but in reality they are only helping to grow something far bigger than you. Something that will send you crashing back to the shore. There to find comfort in your beach chair, shelter under a tent, and safety in the arms of your beach towel – I mean God.
I know I have been to the beach several times in my life, but I really only remember the last trip, summer of 2009, and I was ready to go again. Floating on the waves during that trip was so relaxing and spiritual. I felt a connection with God there like I had not felt anywhere else. Thoughts about being out so far your feet don’t touch the bottom and you have to depend on your float to hold you up and carry you back to the shore. When my feet couldn’t touch, I did not have control of where I went. I just had to ride the waves to wherever they took me. That was the lesson I needed then.
So this trip I was looking for another spiritual awakening. Surely there’s another lesson on those waves, maybe even a good blog post (since I haven’t written anything in a while). Teaching the boys how to swim out and ride the waves back in. To not panic and just enjoy the ride. And when you land on the shore, just walk back to our spot on the beach. No big deal. Or maybe watching them learn to ride those boogie boards. I have no expertise in that area (surprise, surprise), and they could watch those who seem to know what they’re doing and get some pointers from them. Teaching them to respect other people’s property. Very few places you can actually just leave all your stuff laying in a pile under a tent for days at a time and nobody bother it. And even if they do borrow the little plastic shovel and bucket, they bring it back. Buy if they didn’t, there’s no hard feelings anywhere. Can’t even get that kind of peace in my own yard at home.
So I was looking for inspiration in everybody else’s circumstances, but I never thought I would get another lesson while doing the exact same thing as before, riding the waves. I was determined to paddle myself out into the deeper water, where my feet don’t touch the ground, and just lean back and relax. I pointed my float in the direction I wanted to go, paddled my arms, kicked my feet. Nothing. Still in the same spot. Hmm. That’s odd. I tried again. Same thing. Now this is getting embarrassing, and I’m getting a little tired. “Try one more time,” my mind told me. This time it seemed like the water was helping me. It felt like something under the water was pulling me out further and further. “Alright!” I thought. “Maybe I’ll finally get somewhere and I can enjoy myself out here like last time.” But a little ways out, I realized what was happening. Whatever was under the water pulling me out, was making the deep water deeper. It was feeding the swell that would become the next big wave. All of a sudden, I was lifted and moved. I thought I had landed back where I started, but I was actually closer to the shore than when I started.
So what lesson did I learn? Be careful of those currents under the surface you can’t see. They may appear to be helping you get where you want to go, but in reality they are only helping to grow something far bigger than you. Something that will send you crashing back to the shore. There to find comfort in your beach chair, shelter under a tent, and safety in the arms of your beach towel – I mean God.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
To Move or Not To Move?
If you come to my church you will find me sitting on the right-hand side on the second pew. I don’t say that in a way to sound like I’m any better than anybody else. It’s simply a fact. I sit there because I can see and hear the preacher better. I have tried sitting further back, and even on the stage up front. But I find myself paying more attention to the people in the congregation than anything else. Who’s talking to who, who’s getting on to their kids, who’s coming in late, who’s going to the bathroom. Too many distractions. So, I sit on the second pew.
A few Sundays ago, the preacher giving the morning devotion stood and asked everybody to move toward the front. If you were sitting in the back pews, move to the pews up front. Just as at a sporting event, the spectators are more enthusiastic when they sit crowded in groups instead of spread throughout the stadium. But surely he wasn’t talking to me. After all, I sit on the second pew. Several people did move closer, probably as much out of their comfort zones as I would have been had I sat anywhere else. I, however, did not feel the need to move. I was already pretty close to the front. The second pew, you know. So I moved my stuff and made room for my new pew-mates, and tried to make them as welcome as I possibly could.
We had a wonderful service that morning! It was nice to worship the Lord surrounded by those I don’t usually have the pleasure of sitting with. The Spirit was flowing, and I was thoroughly enjoying everything that was said and/or sung. Everything, that is, until the Lord interrupted my service and opened my eyes to the fact that I could be closer. I took that to mean physically. I tried to argue, "Lord I’m on the second pew! Can’t get much closer than that!"
The Lord’s response put a halt to my arguing. "Exactly! Did you hear what you just said?!" (He was using my own words against me.) "I’m on the second pew." There was a pew in front of me. I could have gotten closer. Not just physically, but spiritually. Truth be told, there were three pews on the stage I could have moved forward to. (I was beginning to see the error of my logic.) Then He showed me the altar. No matter how close I thought I was, I could always go to the altar and get closer. While I can be in His presence anywhere, whether it be on my second pew, further back in the next to the last pew, or even up on stage, at the altar I can actually get in His arms. That’s how close I want to be.
A few Sundays ago, the preacher giving the morning devotion stood and asked everybody to move toward the front. If you were sitting in the back pews, move to the pews up front. Just as at a sporting event, the spectators are more enthusiastic when they sit crowded in groups instead of spread throughout the stadium. But surely he wasn’t talking to me. After all, I sit on the second pew. Several people did move closer, probably as much out of their comfort zones as I would have been had I sat anywhere else. I, however, did not feel the need to move. I was already pretty close to the front. The second pew, you know. So I moved my stuff and made room for my new pew-mates, and tried to make them as welcome as I possibly could.
We had a wonderful service that morning! It was nice to worship the Lord surrounded by those I don’t usually have the pleasure of sitting with. The Spirit was flowing, and I was thoroughly enjoying everything that was said and/or sung. Everything, that is, until the Lord interrupted my service and opened my eyes to the fact that I could be closer. I took that to mean physically. I tried to argue, "Lord I’m on the second pew! Can’t get much closer than that!"
The Lord’s response put a halt to my arguing. "Exactly! Did you hear what you just said?!" (He was using my own words against me.) "I’m on the second pew." There was a pew in front of me. I could have gotten closer. Not just physically, but spiritually. Truth be told, there were three pews on the stage I could have moved forward to. (I was beginning to see the error of my logic.) Then He showed me the altar. No matter how close I thought I was, I could always go to the altar and get closer. While I can be in His presence anywhere, whether it be on my second pew, further back in the next to the last pew, or even up on stage, at the altar I can actually get in His arms. That’s how close I want to be.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Ready and Willing?
My "Message From God" on facebook this morning was this, "On this day of your life, we believe God wants you to know that humans learn only by trial and error, and that includes you. You’ve got to live life, not think about it. Step into the midst of things, try and fail and learn and stand up again. The question is not whether you will or will not make mistakes - you will. The question is do you want to learn and grow, or do you want to shrink back and be stuck? Take that step you’ve been avoiding. You can succeed, or you can get feedback that it didn’t work, but in either case you are sure to feel alive."
That reminded me of a devotion I heard the other day that has really had me thinking. I’m not sure what the speaker was trying to relay to the congregation, but I know what I received out of it. How often do I sit and wait for God to give me something to do before I go to work for Him? The Bible tells me I am to "prepare [my] heart" and "be ready always." That was me, ready and willing should the time come. I find myself waiting on some big sign or some big thing He all but forces me to do before I am willing to do anything.
Take this blog for instance. I really felt like God had something for me to say. He always seemed to be giving me these messages that I felt like I just had to write down, whether that writing was seen by anybody or not. My computer was filled with little "devotionettes." (That computer has since crashed and those are no longer with us.) The problem was that those messages usually came while I was in the shower or putting on my makeup or driving down the road. Not the easiest places to simply take out pen and paper and start writing. But instead of doing that very thing, just stop what I was doing and start writing, I became aggravated. "Lord why can’t you give me these things when I’m in a position to take it down?" "Not now Lord, let me get to the computer." "Lord you know I can’t write that fast, my hand will cramp up, and my home computer is broken. Wait till tomorrow when I’m back at work so I can type it."
But do you know what happened? Every time I was in front of the computer and had a few minutes to spare, I was either working, or checking my personal email, or seeing how my friends on facebook are doing. I had no notion of listening for anything God might be saying to me. I figured if He had something He wanted me to put in writing, He’d give it to me. Surely I would have a feeling so profound it would be a "do or die" situation. It didn’t occur to me that maybe He was waiting for me to make myself available. Maybe I need to make the first step and show Him that I am willing to be used, and have the faith that He would provide the opportunity and the means for me to carry out what He has for me to do.
So this morning, I decided to try. One of two things will happen. Either God will come on the scene and this attempt will be successful, or I will type this and it be meant for nobody but me. A lesson in faith. Now, in between answering the phone and checking my email (which I have to do quite frequently as part of my work), while I drink my coffee and prioritize my day, I am sitting at my computer, fingers poised and ready to type. I am making myself available and open to receive what God has to say to me. I’m thinking that should be my top priority today. After all, His messages usually come quickly and I am able to create a writing in only a matter of minutes. Hopefully when I pass it on to you it will be in a way you can understand. (Sometimes He still talks faster than I can type.)
That reminded me of a devotion I heard the other day that has really had me thinking. I’m not sure what the speaker was trying to relay to the congregation, but I know what I received out of it. How often do I sit and wait for God to give me something to do before I go to work for Him? The Bible tells me I am to "prepare [my] heart" and "be ready always." That was me, ready and willing should the time come. I find myself waiting on some big sign or some big thing He all but forces me to do before I am willing to do anything.
Take this blog for instance. I really felt like God had something for me to say. He always seemed to be giving me these messages that I felt like I just had to write down, whether that writing was seen by anybody or not. My computer was filled with little "devotionettes." (That computer has since crashed and those are no longer with us.) The problem was that those messages usually came while I was in the shower or putting on my makeup or driving down the road. Not the easiest places to simply take out pen and paper and start writing. But instead of doing that very thing, just stop what I was doing and start writing, I became aggravated. "Lord why can’t you give me these things when I’m in a position to take it down?" "Not now Lord, let me get to the computer." "Lord you know I can’t write that fast, my hand will cramp up, and my home computer is broken. Wait till tomorrow when I’m back at work so I can type it."
But do you know what happened? Every time I was in front of the computer and had a few minutes to spare, I was either working, or checking my personal email, or seeing how my friends on facebook are doing. I had no notion of listening for anything God might be saying to me. I figured if He had something He wanted me to put in writing, He’d give it to me. Surely I would have a feeling so profound it would be a "do or die" situation. It didn’t occur to me that maybe He was waiting for me to make myself available. Maybe I need to make the first step and show Him that I am willing to be used, and have the faith that He would provide the opportunity and the means for me to carry out what He has for me to do.
So this morning, I decided to try. One of two things will happen. Either God will come on the scene and this attempt will be successful, or I will type this and it be meant for nobody but me. A lesson in faith. Now, in between answering the phone and checking my email (which I have to do quite frequently as part of my work), while I drink my coffee and prioritize my day, I am sitting at my computer, fingers poised and ready to type. I am making myself available and open to receive what God has to say to me. I’m thinking that should be my top priority today. After all, His messages usually come quickly and I am able to create a writing in only a matter of minutes. Hopefully when I pass it on to you it will be in a way you can understand. (Sometimes He still talks faster than I can type.)
Friday, June 8, 2012
"Be Still and Know That I Am God"
(Completely random thoughts - no editing whatsoever. I apologize if it seems scrambled.)
"Be still and know that I am God." That’s the phrase that went through my mind this morning when I woke up to my third day of the room spinning. Vertigo. That’s what the doctor had said. I believe it was God’s way of making me be still because I didn’t listen the first time he told me. I thought I was doing pretty good at keeping my stress level down. My mind was beginning to clear. I wasn’t letting things pile up. I seemed to be getting things done without having to rush. I even spent some time just sitting on the front porch, drinking my coffee, then taking the kids to the pool for a while. I thought that’s what He wanted. For me to settle my brain and clear my thinking. Surely He didn’t mean for me to literally be still. There are things to be done. I thought He was clearing my thoughts so I could accomplish them better.
"Be still and know that I am God." I wasn’t sure if that was actual scripture from the Bible or just something I’ve heard said so many times it seems like gospel. So I looked it up. Sure enough, right there in Psalm 46:10, "Be still and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth." And whaddaya know! The command to be "still" is in the scripture several other places! Like Exodus 14:13, "And Moses said unto the people, Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will shew to you to day..." And Numbers 9:8, "And Moses said unto them, Stand still, and I will hear what the LORD will command concerning you." Ruth 3:18 says, "Then said she, Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the matter will fall..." And of course there’s Job 37:14, "Hearken unto this, O Job: stand still, and consider the wondrous works of God." There are even scriptures that tell of the earth, the sun and the moon standing still. And Matthew and Mark tell us that "Jesus stood still." All these people had to be still to hear, know, consider and see what God had for them to do. Why should I be any different?
So then I decided I would look up the word "still" and get a more clear definition. Dictionary.com says this, "(1) remaining in place or at rest; motionless... (2) free from sound or noise... (4) free from turbulence or commotion; peaceful; tranquil; calm... (5) without waves or perceptible current." Hmm...motionless... without motion. With vertigo, that’s not a problem. If I move, I go one way and the room goes another. Free from sound or noise...turbulence or commotion. This one is a little harder. There are certain things around me that I have no control over - the phone ringing, people talking. Without waves or perceptible current. Have you ever noticed still water? Where there are absolutely no waves visible? Very often it shows a reflection of the sky and nearby surroundings. It can be quite beautiful.
So...let’s review. When God told me to "be still," he wasn’t just talking about my mind, my inner thoughts. Could it be he meant for me to physically not move. How is that even possible?! I don’t understand!! As I lay in bed with the furniture, walls and ceiling swirling around me, I tried to focus on one central object. Maybe if I can just get my eyes fixed on a certain spot, everything else will fall back into place. But I couldn’t do it. My eyes would not fix on that one spot. They kept floating around, rolling and swirling with everything else. That made me feel worse, so I just closed them. All I could do was pray, "Lord make this go away."
"Be still and know that I am God." When everything seems to be careening out of control, I am to be completely still, no moving, no thinking, no trying to focus on what I think I need to be focusing on. Just close my eyes and let God have full control. That’s the only way my world will stop spinning.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Practice Test and Day of Redemption
When I think that I started writing as a way to express my thoughts on the things God reveals to me through the small happenings in my daily life, it kinda scared me when I noticed I hadn’t written anything in over two weeks. Has it really been that long since God spoke to me?! Of course not. It’s just that I've been soooo busy! Sometimes my mind gets soooo overwhelmed that God finds other ways to get my attention.
It’s the end of the school year and my son’s math teacher had given the class a practice test to determine what they needed to focus on before the real test. He had missed quite a few, and we were working them out to make sure he understood how to get the right answers. After we had done several problems, he says, "I sure am glad this was just the practice test and not the real one." I asked him why. He said, "Because I wouldn’t have done so good." After the week I’d had, that really hit home.
My goal had been to finish my "spring cleaning" by the first of May because that starts about three months of non-stop go-go-go for me. There are school band concerts, awards days, graduations, field days, and other end-of-the-year activities. There are birthdays, birthday parties, family cookouts, family reunions. There’s Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and decorations at four different cemeteries. We have Vacation Bible School, the church trip to Gatlinburg, and the much needed week at the beach to plan for. This year Dylan is going to two bible camps and a summer camp. Plus this year we have added a bridal shower and a wedding, and all the pregnant women I know are having their babies this summer. Somewhere in there I also have a full-time job, laundry to wash, meals to cook, shopping to do, and errands to run. I would like to say I handled all this by keeping my cool and displaying much grace. Uh, wrong!
When my brain has a task to complete, it goes into overdrive and doesn’t stop until it either burns out, gives up or reaches a solution. I spent more than a few restless nights. Then God reminded me of my remedy for these times. I made a lunch date with a pen and paper and got all my ideas written down. The list was made and I now had a plan to proceed. I realized that everything on my calendar was put there by none other than yours truly. A lot of those "appointments" were there because that’s what I felt like I needed to do or was just what I’d always done. I was really feeling the affects of self-induced stress. So I got online - vacation reservations confirmed - camp enrollment forms printed - decoration flowers bought. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
I couldn't believe what happened next! Our awesome God gave me not one, but two opportunities- in the same day mind you - to redeem myself !
It was a typical day at our office, appointments booked every thirty minutes, clients coming in with information for their file, and the occasional person wandering in off the street looking for some quick legal advice. I don’t know who the woman was or where she came from, but she struck a chord with all who were in the office right then. She first told her story to my co-worker, who in turn asked me to see if I could help her. She said her father had passed away that morning in New York, and she was doing odd jobs around town trying to raise the money to pay for her bus ticket to get there. She was $17.00 short. It was after 4:00 in the afternoon, and her bus was scheduled to leave at 5:15. She was about six months pregnant and so far that day she had washed dishes, done some yard/housework, and even changed a flat tire on someone’s vehicle. With her greasy hands, she laid a baggie on my counter with some bead bracelets and some silver charms she was trying to sell. She promised that if I helped her she would be back on Friday to repay me.
Now we hear a lot of "sob stories" in our line of work, and have become somewhat able to determine the legitimates from the drama queens. Unfortunately, we have also become immune to a lot of it. But this woman telling her story had me practically in tears by the time she finished. I bent down and got what cash I could find in my purse - a whole $7.00. I handed it to her, apologized for not having more, and told her she most definitely did not have to pay me back. A lady waiting in our lobby had overheard and seen the entire conversation, and also pulled out some cash and gave it the woman - $11.00 I think - and told her the same thing. The look on the woman’s face was pure appreciation - and shock that we hadn’t made her sweep the floor or clean the windows in return for the money.
I guess it’s possible this woman could have simply been out begging for money to go do who-knows-what with, but I don’t think so. She didn’t look like a "junkie," she didn’t sound like she was intoxicated or influenced in any way. And I don’t think I would have been moved to such a degree if she had not been telling the truth. At any rate, I was only out $7.00 and, as the saying goes, if she can live with it, I can live without it. If I don’t have enough Christian love in me to give somebody a measly $7.00 when they appear to have a sincere need, then I don’t deserve to call myself a Christian.
Later that evening, I had to make a quick run to the store for a few things. I was waiting in line at the checkout while the cashier finished with the customer ahead of me, when I overhead my cashier ask the cashier at the next register if she had anything for heartburn. I knew I had one heartburn pill in my purse and automatically got it ready to hand her when it was my turn to pay. She began ringing up my things, and I reached over and handed her the packet with the medicine. She gave a sigh of relief and thanked me profusely. I explained that I could sympathize with her pain and was happy to help. In the back of my mind I was hoping we wouldn't get in trouble by the all-seeing eyes who may have misunderstood what was going on. But I was able to leave the store without incident.
So, like my son, I didn’t do so hot on the practice test. I apologize to all my loyal followers (ha!ha!) for not writing before now. You can rest assured, God has not stopped talking. He just has to get a little creative to get through all the chaos that is my mind. Sometimes he even has to physically stand in front of me to get me to pay attention. I’m so glad God gives us second chances...and third...and fourth...and one hundredth!
It’s the end of the school year and my son’s math teacher had given the class a practice test to determine what they needed to focus on before the real test. He had missed quite a few, and we were working them out to make sure he understood how to get the right answers. After we had done several problems, he says, "I sure am glad this was just the practice test and not the real one." I asked him why. He said, "Because I wouldn’t have done so good." After the week I’d had, that really hit home.
My goal had been to finish my "spring cleaning" by the first of May because that starts about three months of non-stop go-go-go for me. There are school band concerts, awards days, graduations, field days, and other end-of-the-year activities. There are birthdays, birthday parties, family cookouts, family reunions. There’s Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and decorations at four different cemeteries. We have Vacation Bible School, the church trip to Gatlinburg, and the much needed week at the beach to plan for. This year Dylan is going to two bible camps and a summer camp. Plus this year we have added a bridal shower and a wedding, and all the pregnant women I know are having their babies this summer. Somewhere in there I also have a full-time job, laundry to wash, meals to cook, shopping to do, and errands to run. I would like to say I handled all this by keeping my cool and displaying much grace. Uh, wrong!
When my brain has a task to complete, it goes into overdrive and doesn’t stop until it either burns out, gives up or reaches a solution. I spent more than a few restless nights. Then God reminded me of my remedy for these times. I made a lunch date with a pen and paper and got all my ideas written down. The list was made and I now had a plan to proceed. I realized that everything on my calendar was put there by none other than yours truly. A lot of those "appointments" were there because that’s what I felt like I needed to do or was just what I’d always done. I was really feeling the affects of self-induced stress. So I got online - vacation reservations confirmed - camp enrollment forms printed - decoration flowers bought. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
I couldn't believe what happened next! Our awesome God gave me not one, but two opportunities- in the same day mind you - to redeem myself !
It was a typical day at our office, appointments booked every thirty minutes, clients coming in with information for their file, and the occasional person wandering in off the street looking for some quick legal advice. I don’t know who the woman was or where she came from, but she struck a chord with all who were in the office right then. She first told her story to my co-worker, who in turn asked me to see if I could help her. She said her father had passed away that morning in New York, and she was doing odd jobs around town trying to raise the money to pay for her bus ticket to get there. She was $17.00 short. It was after 4:00 in the afternoon, and her bus was scheduled to leave at 5:15. She was about six months pregnant and so far that day she had washed dishes, done some yard/housework, and even changed a flat tire on someone’s vehicle. With her greasy hands, she laid a baggie on my counter with some bead bracelets and some silver charms she was trying to sell. She promised that if I helped her she would be back on Friday to repay me.
Now we hear a lot of "sob stories" in our line of work, and have become somewhat able to determine the legitimates from the drama queens. Unfortunately, we have also become immune to a lot of it. But this woman telling her story had me practically in tears by the time she finished. I bent down and got what cash I could find in my purse - a whole $7.00. I handed it to her, apologized for not having more, and told her she most definitely did not have to pay me back. A lady waiting in our lobby had overheard and seen the entire conversation, and also pulled out some cash and gave it the woman - $11.00 I think - and told her the same thing. The look on the woman’s face was pure appreciation - and shock that we hadn’t made her sweep the floor or clean the windows in return for the money.
I guess it’s possible this woman could have simply been out begging for money to go do who-knows-what with, but I don’t think so. She didn’t look like a "junkie," she didn’t sound like she was intoxicated or influenced in any way. And I don’t think I would have been moved to such a degree if she had not been telling the truth. At any rate, I was only out $7.00 and, as the saying goes, if she can live with it, I can live without it. If I don’t have enough Christian love in me to give somebody a measly $7.00 when they appear to have a sincere need, then I don’t deserve to call myself a Christian.
Later that evening, I had to make a quick run to the store for a few things. I was waiting in line at the checkout while the cashier finished with the customer ahead of me, when I overhead my cashier ask the cashier at the next register if she had anything for heartburn. I knew I had one heartburn pill in my purse and automatically got it ready to hand her when it was my turn to pay. She began ringing up my things, and I reached over and handed her the packet with the medicine. She gave a sigh of relief and thanked me profusely. I explained that I could sympathize with her pain and was happy to help. In the back of my mind I was hoping we wouldn't get in trouble by the all-seeing eyes who may have misunderstood what was going on. But I was able to leave the store without incident.
So, like my son, I didn’t do so hot on the practice test. I apologize to all my loyal followers (ha!ha!) for not writing before now. You can rest assured, God has not stopped talking. He just has to get a little creative to get through all the chaos that is my mind. Sometimes he even has to physically stand in front of me to get me to pay attention. I’m so glad God gives us second chances...and third...and fourth...and one hundredth!
Monday, May 7, 2012
It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To
Where were you Saturday?! I had a party and nobody came! Ok, truth be told, it was a pity party, and you would not have enjoyed it. It was no fun. Three weeks of big bills and no "extra" money can make a girl blue. That was me. No full tank of gas to waste this week, just what I need. No big trip to Wal-mart for a full grocery buying experience, just a quick run to the Dollar Store and Foodland for the essentials. I had to keep reminding myself, "I’m Blessed!" But didn’t God know and understand that we NEED all that other stuff?!
Blessed? You bet! Spoiled? Maybe a little. The kids don’t have to have three boxes of cereal and waffles and pancakes to choose from for breakfast. We don’t have to have a different meal for supper every night. (We’ll be having beans, cornbread and fried potatoes every night this week. If you want to stop by about 6:30, you’re welcome to join us - just let me know ahead of time so I make sure to have plenty.) The slightest thing was starting to get to me. I was accomplishing nothing on my to-do list. My mind wouldn’t rest for trying to figure out how to make it all work. I tried to pop some popcorn, it burned. Went to pour myself a glass of tea, somebody had drank it all. I was sure I’d feel better if I could just make it to read some scriptures or a devotional book. But first I had to hand wash all those dishes. Finally, I just cried into the dishwater. That’s when God started talking to me - or, rather, when I started listening.
I went to my youngest son and apologized for snapping at him earlier, especially in front of his friends. I finished cleaning up the kitchen, tidied up the living room, folded some laundry and put more to washing. I made a loaf of cinnamon bread (anything to get rid of that burned popcorn smell!) I took a look at my checkbook and made a mental note that if I played it just right, we’d make it (not that we wouldn’t have anyway, but it made me feel better to see it in writing).
Then I retreated to my bathroom, ran some water, sat on the edge of the tub and put my feet in, and began reading my Sunday School lesson for the week. John 6:27 - "Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of man shall give unto you..." Verse 35 - "And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst." Of course there were other verses in the lesson, and the writer’s commentary really hit home. I had taken my focus off the bread that really mattered, the bread that God provides me with daily. I was more worried about the literal bread that I didn’t have.
As I finished my home pedicure (which I actually wasn’t doing out of necessity, but because that’s my "girl time"), I continued to pray and think, and God continued to listen and respond. I prayed that all the discontentment, all the disappointment I felt toward myself and the things I had failed to do today, would be forgiven and taken from me. After all, tomorrow is Sunday. The Lord’s day. He deserves none of my bitterness. Only my praise. That's all I wanted to carry with me.
So if I ever invite you to one of my pity parties, feel free to not show up. Only one guest is truly needed. He is my best friend and He understands me like nobody else does. It's my party, and if I want to cry, He's ok with that.
Blessed? You bet! Spoiled? Maybe a little. The kids don’t have to have three boxes of cereal and waffles and pancakes to choose from for breakfast. We don’t have to have a different meal for supper every night. (We’ll be having beans, cornbread and fried potatoes every night this week. If you want to stop by about 6:30, you’re welcome to join us - just let me know ahead of time so I make sure to have plenty.) The slightest thing was starting to get to me. I was accomplishing nothing on my to-do list. My mind wouldn’t rest for trying to figure out how to make it all work. I tried to pop some popcorn, it burned. Went to pour myself a glass of tea, somebody had drank it all. I was sure I’d feel better if I could just make it to read some scriptures or a devotional book. But first I had to hand wash all those dishes. Finally, I just cried into the dishwater. That’s when God started talking to me - or, rather, when I started listening.
I went to my youngest son and apologized for snapping at him earlier, especially in front of his friends. I finished cleaning up the kitchen, tidied up the living room, folded some laundry and put more to washing. I made a loaf of cinnamon bread (anything to get rid of that burned popcorn smell!) I took a look at my checkbook and made a mental note that if I played it just right, we’d make it (not that we wouldn’t have anyway, but it made me feel better to see it in writing).
Then I retreated to my bathroom, ran some water, sat on the edge of the tub and put my feet in, and began reading my Sunday School lesson for the week. John 6:27 - "Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of man shall give unto you..." Verse 35 - "And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst." Of course there were other verses in the lesson, and the writer’s commentary really hit home. I had taken my focus off the bread that really mattered, the bread that God provides me with daily. I was more worried about the literal bread that I didn’t have.
As I finished my home pedicure (which I actually wasn’t doing out of necessity, but because that’s my "girl time"), I continued to pray and think, and God continued to listen and respond. I prayed that all the discontentment, all the disappointment I felt toward myself and the things I had failed to do today, would be forgiven and taken from me. After all, tomorrow is Sunday. The Lord’s day. He deserves none of my bitterness. Only my praise. That's all I wanted to carry with me.
So if I ever invite you to one of my pity parties, feel free to not show up. Only one guest is truly needed. He is my best friend and He understands me like nobody else does. It's my party, and if I want to cry, He's ok with that.
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