Kickstart Monday

Mondays are gratitude days.

For someone who is so good at counting (bricks on the church wall, miles completed, panels on the ceiling, nutritional requirements, days of incubation, days until, days since, etc), I am not so great at counting and writing what I am thankful for.
So, who's counting? Me...

burdens shifted

siblings that play constantly even though there are 4 years that separate them

the squeakuel (chipmunk music can really make me thankful for other music)

pastor's of providence

the Exodus story

my little warrior's hugs

homemade play-dough

sewing machines

women like Abigail Adams

my mother's ability to improvise (and her instruction)

faith

attentive husband

snotty noses and tears at church

twelve year old girls' Birthday parties

Southern thunderstorms

breathe in, breathe out

http://www.aholyexperience.com/

Hidden Romance

February has been cold, really cold, I have felt cold from the inside out and cold from the inside in. I have seen more varied types of snow than I ever thought possible. My kids started the month ecstatic over the first sign of falling snow yet have now retreated indoors with a soft blanket versus trotting outside with their sleds. I have tried to think "happy" thoughts, but every time I head out for a run on the slick streets I end up muttering something under my breath that I have to repent for half way through my run. To make matters worse I have been reading the "weeping prophet," Jeremiah. Although there are numerous encouraging verses the overall picture of this book has been painted severe. I have ruminated about how does God put up with us, how we so quickly fall out of love with Him and how I am just as bad as 'those people' He is dealing with in the scriptures. It has been a hard, passionless month, oh and throw Valentine's Day in to the gloom blender and this natural cynic begins to produce mass loads of unbelief. I cover it up rather nicely with a steadfast exterior and a cast iron glaze over my true self. Lately I have felt a surge of panic as I realize I don't feel anything; apathy. I really don't like me when I get like this.

Then I pray, "Lord please have mercy, fill me afresh, I don't know how I got like this, but You and I both know where this leads."

Leave it to my precious kids. Today I was really stretched with a fragile four year old, there was nothing I could do right. Every attempt I made towards peace was thwarted by this cloud of "not enough," hanging over his eyes. I was exhausted by noon, ready to give up and fall prey to depression and discouragement all over again.

I sat down with my daughter to read today's "The Holy Experience," post by Ann Voskamp only to find myself getting choked up. My voice was wavering and tears were stinging my eyes as I thought about God keeping a record of my laments. My daughter smiled at me and said, "Awe Mom, enough of this romance stuff." A little perturbed at her, I asked her what romance she was talking about, she snickered and said, "You know, you and Jesus." I was taken back because I struggle with intimacy with Jesus, and how she saw me sniffle a little and knew that there is a romance between me and Jesus that I rarely have eyes to see. I felt encouraged. I am not passionless, I am not cold and heartless, I do love Jesus, He lives in my soul and even though I am not a riot of expression my daughter knows my true self.

I have looked upon you

Every year I try to skirt the questions concerning the highs and lows of the past year. What was good or what was bad? Where did I find success and then the inevitable failure. For a couple of years I came up with a short cute comeback to the question regarding my New Year's Resolutions, "I resolve to continue." Which is the farthest from the truth, I am a diehard overachiever, always striving for the next level. Although I might settle with where I am at, I am rarely content with it. All this critical exactness is completely personal, rarely voiced, but always calculating. This year, I need to make some changes, deep changes, outward changes, and so I write for eyes to see. There needs to be a change from striving-surviving to thriving. Although I will never cease from trying to mortify the deeds of the flesh, I want to turn my gaze. You know, the gaze of a soul, puppy love, stuff that makes me blush and look directly down. Just now my four - year old son was trying to get my attention. I was trying to make my personal goals for the up coming school term. He must have told me his plans for our day three times before I realized I was giving him second place. So, I turned my body towards him, looked him square in the eye and said, “What are your plans?” He didn’t sigh, he didn’t roll his eyes in exasperation, he laughed. Laughed because it was so funny for him to see me be at his disposal. He was a buzz of delight, “When I finally get the next Star Wars toy that I want we can make a big play area in front of the fire and play all day.” Instead of scolding him for his desire for toys, and there never being enough, I said yes. He was ecstatic, I could read his mind “She said yes.” Could this be the end of restrictive thinking for me? Well, not completely, I reminded him he had at least a week’s worth of chores to do before he was able to purchase this addition. Thanks to the Holy Experience (www.aholyexperience.com) for reminding me of this need in my life to find a 'yes'. I used to boast, “There is nothing I can’t say no to.” A condition I have worked hard to achieve only to find out this is not an achievement. Nope, no blue ribbon here, in fact if I am not careful I will be a cultivator of wild grapes (Isaiah 5). It seems to me I need to direct my attention.

(Psalm 63), I have looked upon you,

though terrifying, the Psalmist tells me it’s a good idea.

So, this is my prayer, I am sorry I shift my gaze, I need your hand under my chin to lift my eyes to You. I have lost my childlike determination to see you. I don’t deserve your persistence to hold my gaze, help me to be a better lover. Amen.

By God's Hand

Today is our last day of school before Christmas break. I worked on the final test; two questions from each subject including History, Grammar, Spanish, Math, Geography, Composition, Dictation, hmmm, will she get them all right? It's terrible to be a Mom and the teacher on this day, I want her to do so well. I want her to soar, to ace the test. I have to write the test and be sure it is fair, yet an accurate representation of all the subjects. Truth be known, it's a reflection of myself, her performance, and I squirm under the glass of evaluation. I was exhausted after writing the test. She was cramming, falling asleep with the light on. "That's my girl", I thought when I went to bed. This morning I started the test with Bible, the first question was, in your own words, explain what is the providence of God? (Heidelberg Catechism 1563, Question 27) She thought for a moment then without a pause said, "The providence of God is that we have been able to keep our house for two years. We didn't have money, but God told a lady to write a check, she did and so by God's hand we were able to keep our house." I wasn't expecting this answer, so confidently spoken and given to "the teacher". The answer on the key read, "The almighty and everywhere present power of God, whereby, as it were, by his hand, he still upholds heaven and earth, with all creatures, and so governs them that herbs and grass, rain and drought, fruitful and barren years, meat and drink, health and sickness, riches and poverty, yea, all things, come not by chance, but by his fatherly hand." I closed my eyes, smiled, trying to hide how pleased I was, she said "I think I got it right." Thank you Jesus for your hand and for the clarity of an eight year old.

Balance

My daughter rode her bike without training wheels for the first time yesterday. She's eight, well beyond the age of first time coasting, but I am proud nonetheless. She was the almost two year old who had not taken any baby steps and walked 20 feet into her Daddy's office at work, her first steps. Her Dad prayed for her before she even got on the bike that it would be a good experience, for protection. She didn't fall once, no tears, no skinned knees, just a big smile. A gift from the best Gift Giver. Maybe I am thrilled because I still don't know how to ride a bike, a task given to my brothers that was never completed, I can't balance. She was still beaming this morning when I greeted her at the breakfast table, dressed and ready to go for the day (a rarity in my house). In so many ways she surpasses me, she forgives deeply, she believes emphatically, she plays wholeheartedly, and she balances. I take hold of the challenge of raising children with both of my hands, but there are pieces of me I don't want them to be or see. The lack of balance and the well calculated expression all too familiar to me. My prayer today is that I would come out of my polarized self, let the everyday moments speak to me, that I would allow the Lord Jesus to help me balance.