Pink Glittered Lint

Reason #437

why I love the darling little girl I get to call DAUGHTER

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Glitter in the pink lint after doing a load of her laundry.

I once heard a prominent Christian women's speaker suggest using daily chores as a reminder to pray for certain people or situations in our households. Like praying for the owner of the clothing you are washing, drying or folding. I love this kind of advice - practical and applicable. I am a logical deduction kind of gal and I appreciate such direct advice. Still, parables are important too, sometimes, to understand the context of Divine ideas. So I thought about that lint. How it could easily represent the sin that we all have in our lives. It must be trapped and removed in order to make our apparel the best we can put on. How it hinders the laundering process if not removed. But looking at the lint, it is also indicative of the owner of the laundry it comes from. My husband's lint is almost always a light or reddish color. He works outside and wears light-colored clothing in order to tolerate the heat. The red comes from the Oklahoma dirt. My son's lint is almost always full of small scraps of paper that I somehow missed cleaning out of one of his pockets. He is a list maker deluxe, much like his Momma. Mine is always colorful. I love a different feel to my outfit each day. Fashion is fun for me. And my daughter's lint - it almost always contains pink and glitter.

So even our struggles and particular temptations make us unique. I don't love my daughter because she has lint (or sin), but I don't NOT love her for it either. Yes, I have to stop and pick the lint out of the filter each time I do the wash. It is an extra step and a little bit more work. But I have been given this awesome privilege to be the one to teach her to eliminate more lint from her life. But if I didn't get to be the one to do it, if life were "easier" and the lint removal was left to another, I would also miss the unique personality, the glitter and sparkle, that's peeks through the dust of the lint.

I guess the glitter would be love, since God is Love, and He is the Light - the sparkle. So I thought about my lint, that sin that God removes as He passes me through the wash of the blood of Jesus. It reminded me how much He loves me. That like I do with my daughter, He must pick the lint out of my life, but stop to smile at the glitter. He clothes me in it, just as hubby and I clothe our daughter in her glittery garb. So I guess my prayer would be that I would continually choose the sparkly bright outfit that glitters of LOVE, so that there is always sparkle in my lint. My lesson from the laundry today reminds me to love my family as they are. Help them, pray for them, and give thanks for the note-filled, red-dirt-stained, and pink glittered lint.

A BLESSING EVEN BIGGER

There is not another person on earth who has probably even noticed. It seems like such an insignificant thing, but to me it represents the quiet smile of God reminding me of His presence after such a long and trying past month. August 5th is on a Sunday, our Lord's Day. And it will be the three month anniversary of my daughter's salvation. I just think it is a special small fact that God ordained before time to have that milestone occur on a Sunday, where I will have time to focus so fully on what a blessing her conversion has been.

I used to say that the single most important event in my life was coming to know Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. I don't say it because it's the "right" thing to say or because it's the "Christian" thing to believe. I say it because it's true. Without that day, January 2, 1994, there would have been no wedding day, no births of my children, no certain unique experiences God has allowed us to have. At least not ones covered in the knowledge of his Mercy. I KNOW that my life would have taken an altogether different direction - because so VERY many of the choices I have made since that day have not been my choices at all, but His. Choices I didn't understand or necessarily even trust at the time that I made them. But I trusted Him, so I followed and was blessed beyond anything I could have imagined. I was also tried more than I ever expected. But I have ALWAYS been about doing my best, even as a lost heathen muddling through this old world, and I believe that the greater callings require greater sacrifice. (Thank you, God, for our voluntary military! They are my heroes. Please keep them safe.)

But three months ago, in the dark of midnight with quiet tears of joy dotting my cheeks, all I could think was "THIS beats even my own salvation. THIS is the GREATEST blessing I will ever be handed." Watching these A-M-A-Z-I-N-G, emerging young sinful saints covered in grace ETERNALLY! And knowing that my God, the Almighty Alpha and Omega, is developing in them a unique plan that no one else on this Earth can fulfill. And that He's actually allowing me to have an unearned, undeserved part in it all! I lay there most of that night considering my family's past, how NONE of us had any sort of a testimony at all and really NO KNOWLEDGE of who Jesus Christ was. I had heard His name, but never in conjunction with the word Savior. I knew there was Him and Moses and Jonah and Jonah had an ark, whatever that was. But I couldn't have told you what else any of them were known for or who was the more important of the three.

But as I prayed that night I thought about the story I'd read several times by now about Moses. How he'd offered to take the punishment of death and hell for the sins of his people the Israelites if God would just forgive them once again. (Exo. 32:32) I'd always wondered how any human gets that kind of a love, that would give up his own salvation for the redemption of another. I believe Moses knew and believed that God would not take his salvation away because I believe he knew that it was not based upon his own actions in the first place. But he was willing. And now I understand that urgency, because it's how I feel about my own children. They are God's, but they are a heritage from the Lord. (Psa. 127:3) Not just a gift, but a HERITAGE. A glimpse into all the wonder of God's parental side. Children, I believe, teach us as much about the love of God for us than anything else ever could. And they teach us how to love more like Christ just in their existing. How could Moses and how can I love that much? The answer is the same as it is for EVERYTHING.

J E S U S

On the day that my daughter gave her life away to God on Cinco de Mayo of this year, God answered MANY prayers. First and foremost, He answered her prayer to come into her heart and cleanse her of her sins and teach her to walk in His ways. But he also answered prayers I have uttered since before even becoming pregnant. My best friend miscarried her first baby just weeks after I miscarried our second. She said to me, as she tried to find comfort, "I prayed to God that he would never let us have a child that wouldn't decide to one day become a Christian. Maybe even this is an answer to my prayers." As sad as that sounds, I think every loving Christian mother understands her thinking. Having my children come to know TRUE salvation apart from religion has been the one prayer I have asked for them since before they were knit together in my womb.

My older son made his commitment to Christ the Friday before Thanksgiving of 2004. It was equally as exciting for days and months like with my daughter. But he has always been a naturally compliant kid. Of course, one sin makes us fall short of the glory of God. His salvation was every bit as necessary as with my daughter! It meant every bit as much. But my daughter is the one I worried more about needing Divine guidance through her life with her choices. She just has more of a personality that wants to jump in and try new things and think through the consequences later. Or she did. God has done a MIGHTY work in this sweet girl. She is so thoughtful in her actions, so measured now in her decisions. She was the first to go to her room and pray for her parents when she saw that we were struggling to maintain a rational level to our "discussion" the other day. She radiates her Lord! She is still ornery and funny and still loves a good time. And she is still ornery. And ornery. But she puts Jesus first. If it will not bring honor to Him, she more often no longer finds an action worth it. She bears fruit. She is a new creature, created in Christ Jesus. And I will be eternally grateful to my Savior for getting to be there when the cocoon, the shroud of sin, broke, and that exquisite new creation emerged. She still sins. She still gets into trouble and irritates her brothers less frequently, but she now CARES. She is repentant, rather than so disturbingly delighted at her fleshly actions.

Our family, the one I am in and the one I am from has a legacy now of being ones who want to follow Jesus. Ones who are known for reading their Bibles and going to church and trying their best to respond to things according to Scripture. Sometimes we follow Jesus on our hands and knees begging. Sometimes we follow Him after getting lost at the detours. So often we get distracted, take our eyes off Him and tend to forget where we are going. But He doesn't. He's promised to seal us unto the day of redemption. (Eph. 4:30; II Tim. 1:12) We're sometimes lost on the trail, but He isn't. He promised to get us home safely. I trust Him to be able to do that despite how I walk. I am crippled and lame and clueless so often and my stride in the race looks more like a drunk on a storm-tossed ship than a graceful sprint. At times, so will my sons'. So will my daughter's. But I won't leave them alone on the side of the road just because they stumble. In fact, that just makes me as a parent want to help them all the more. They may eventually sometime look like a heap of useless clay laying alongside the road, but that's my heritage there in that heap. I want to wait and be patient and help them to their feet those times more than any other. That's my parental side. That's what it means to be CREATED IN HIS IMAGE. I am like that because He is like that and I was made to be like Him. He is the Light. That bright beacon guiding us Home. And I am just ecstatic that my older children's eyes have been opened to see that Light. No longer must they rely solely on a stronger but stumbling runner to pull them along. Now they have that brighter beacon than myself to guide them along as well. And that is most surely my most favorite blessing.

Good Advice

I have always sought to follow the advice of those who have gone before me and to try my best, yet without their perspective, to take it to heart, especially to "enjoy your husband and children and don't take a single second for granted." But this particular article I found at An Ordinary Mom worded it so beautifully and so succinctly that I had to share. It was such a vivid reminder to go hug my loved ones, really hard......and right now!

“All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.

“Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories.

“What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations –what they taught me, was that they couldn’t really teach me very much at all. Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.

“When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself.

“Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton’s wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane?
“Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.
“Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the, ‘Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of Fame.’ The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, “What did you get wrong?”. (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald’s drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?

“But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night.

“I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

“Even today I’m not sure what worked and what didn’t, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I’d done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be.

“The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That’s what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.”~ Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist

Life Is Lighter

Blogging is a sort of signal of the drastic changes that are taking place in my life. That I have time to do something I really enjoy. Three years ago, I could have never guessed that the trials we were embarking on could bring so much strain. It still doesn't make sense to people when we try to explain it. "So, you lived in a home that was too small; then you moved. Who doesn't do that at some point? Sure it's stressful, but it's really no big deal." But that was just the part of our situation that was visible. There is SO MUCH MORE to the story that was mostly unknown, because the details were far too tedious and complicated to repeat more than about that first five times. And frankly, we just haven't had the time to linger on recounting the tale for either sympathy or prayers. Those who know us best just trusted that when we emphasized rather emphatically (MANY times) that we needed prayer, well then, we needed it. The rest had already forgotten that the whole cycle of stress was set in motion by the death of our brother. It really was no small thing.

But what it all boils down to is this. The past three years brought more responsibility than time to deal with it. It wasn't so much the trials themselves that were so extremely frustrating to us. It was the lack of time to DO A GOOD JOB at it. And the well-intentioned people, albeit mostly ignorant of the situation, with an abundance of advice that was some version of "you make the time for what's important." We said so many prayers - MANY - for God's clear direction on what to eliminate from our routines that wasn't exactly necessary, and many mistakes in trying to follow through. I, particularly, eliminated hobbies and fellowship entirely, assuming they must be frivolous. Big Mistake! That makes for one grouchy, estrogen- laden lady, doing that! But from that mistake I learned the value of PLAY. I eliminated home school, though I still sometimes miss it very much. But I learned that I was trusting IN the home school more than IN Him to keep my kids on the straight and narrow. I, along with my hubby, eliminated, or at least really limited, our couple time. Not a good idea either. But television watching, church obligations, and other people's expectations had already been eliminated by that point, so what to do? Well, I'll tell you. We realized that God HAD ALLOWED such a season for a purpose. He in fact HAD put more on our plates than 24 hours daily allowed time for as much as some people will argue that point with me, but I know now why He did it and what He accomplished in me because of it. I was FORCED to let things go. To realize that the world will not fall apart EVEN if we don't eat dinner one night or send someone birthday greetings a week late by phone as opposed to on time with a nice card or the kids skip school for one day because there is NO clean laundry. God let the pendulum of my Perfectionism swing SO FAR the other way and because of it, I'm so much more laid back. So much more encouraging and less demanding of people. I'm more willing to try and to fail, realizing that success is not about reaching goals only, but about the lessons learned in the PROCESS of trying something new.

Why is all of this on my mind tonight? Well, I realized after a conversation with a friend today at the kids' school that scorpion season is upon us. She relayed how she was very recently bitten and proceeded to tell me, with all sincerity, that she would take child labor over the pain of a scorpion bite ANY DAY! And I panicked, realizing our home still looks like we've lived here only a couple of weeks though we moved in July. It's a tornado zone really. Not just cluttered - but after an extremely busy week, it's not vacuumed. There are no dishes done. There are spots on the wall where someone shook up and opened a bottle of Pepsi. There are still boxes in every room and piles of laundry in most of them and dirty toilets. There's paperwork in every conceivable nook and cranny. Half of the beds have no sheets on them.....etc., etc., etc.

All the way home I thought about those scorpions. We had four in our house here last summer. And then I thought again about how busy our week has been. And about some posts I've read this week from people with devastating health issues about the brevity of life and choosing what's really important. And about how God has taught me so many of those same lessons these past 3 years, but through my very different set of circumstances. And about how that is so much of WHY my house is in the very state it is in. Because I HAVE BEEN choosing hugs over dusting and discipline over laundry and forming new friendships over doing the dishes. And then I thought about how those things WILL indeed HAVE to be done at some point. And then the scorpions again. And then I carefully weighed the pros and cons - because I will never quite entirely know how to pinpoint that fine line between striving for excellence and going over board trying to be TOO perfect. That will probably always be a struggle for me. Finally, I looked out at a perfect evening and the four people nearest and dearest to my heart. And I made a choice. I went out to watch my boys take batting practice, my daughter play with the baby next door, and my husband plant trees with such contentment on his stress-free face. And though we'll probably be having popcorn for dinner and wearing the same jeans tomorrow, I didn't regret it. Sure, I know I could be catching up right now instead of typing my blog, but as much as I thought I would remember all those magical moments from bygone years, so many of them have faded. Now I have this gift of blogging to ensure they're not again forgotten. I've no time for the guilt. I'll reserve guilt for those times that I treat people other than I ought to. Right now all I feel is gratitude. I'm so thankful for the trial that taught me to relish such moments, even though that trial is not entirely over. But even more so, I'm thankful to finally have more of those moments to stop and appreciate!

April 19 Reflections

It struck me so odd this morning as I tuned in my television for that annual ritual - how time insists on moving forward, whether we permit it to or not. It still just doesn't really seem like all that long ago. Twelve years ago today, it was the biggest news story in every American city and across much of the world. It was so surreal, so very shocking. But in the dozen years since the Murrah Federal Bombing 15 miles from my home and only 3 days before my wedding day, we've experienced an even bigger atrocity in 9/11. And RIGHT NOW, we are processing the massacre at Virginia Tech. And in between the two, there have been a multitude of other life defining moments, both public and private. The Iraq war, the Indian Tsunami and the flooding in New Orleans, political corruption, miscarriages, weddings, divorces, deaths and new babies. Life indeed goes on. In fact, one of our very own local stations ran regular programming today for the first year since "the bombing," a term whose reference is automatically understood in these parts.

I didn't feel the bombing like everyone else did. I was sleeping in to recuperate from the emotional exhaustion of preparing for our wedding while coping with my fiance's own grief. His dad had passed away suddenly just 12 days earlier. Our out-of-town guests experienced it though. Anyone within a 50 mile radius and not asleep when it happened has a vivid description to share. It was that powerful. My slumber turned out to be a blessing in disguise. At the time of the blast, I was supposed to be at the downtown courthouse securing our wedding license. The courthouse was located directly next door to the explosion, and two people inside were killed by falling debris.

In a realistic display of the sickness that sometimes lurks in our society, we were not able to locate an open courthouse anywhere in our state for two days, due to copycat threats at nearly all of them. Finally on Friday, less than 24 hours before "I do's," a sweet country-girl court clerk agreed to stay 20 minutes past quitting time to issue us our license 45 minutes away. After that she would have to leave to meet her family for a school function. We drove 90 mph most of the way and still barely made it. As we made our way back to the parking lot with that all important piece of paper, we were told to stay in our car as we witnessed a cavalcade of black Suburbans enter the premises in a quiet formal line. We wouldn't know until the 10:00 news that it was Timothy McVeigh. The door you've seen him exit on television as people boo in the background is the same one we entered to get legal proof of our impending marriage.

Two years later, my newlywed status was fading even as I was expecting our first child. Feeling clueless, we signed up for "baby classes" at the hospital. I was a new Christian and had shared the Gospel easily with my family but I was very much struggling to speak to strangers about Him. I really just struggled to speak to anyone new to me, period. But in that class, I stepped out on faith. I don't remember anything of the actual conversation, only that I apparently found the restroom to be the perfect locale to tell her about the love of Christ! We laugh about it now. We laugh about a lot now! God took my meager, ill-delivered effort and gave to me a wonderful friend. Arlene is classy, attractive, articulate, intelligent, caring and passionate - about Jesus, her family, the moral state of our society, her friends and the unique challenges of teenagers - in that order. And she is an Oklahoma City Murrah bombing survivor. Her name is etched on the one remaining wall of the building left as part of the memorial to commemorate the strength and resolve of those who lived through it.

Shortly after the bombing, she became alcoholic dependent. She was newly married as well. She lost almost 20 co-workers, her friends, all on one day. She herself had been completely blinded for over three hours and her husband had taken nearly six hours to find her in all the chaos. Her desk sat on the fourth floor on the right side of the hole that you have no doubt seen on television. She was there that morning to serve our country in the offices of the U.S. Army with her enlistment ending just 10 days later. She had gotten up to retrieve coffee for her male boss only 20 seconds earlier. She once told me that she would have foolishly considered his request to be chauvinistic toward women only a couple of years earlier, but she too had recently trusted her heart to Jesus Christ, and she had become softer, less bitter and more caring. At least until she was challenged by that day. Had she not gone for coffee that day, I would never have had my friend. Her husband would never have had his two amazing boys who are trained in the Word daily. They are one reason I find hope for the society my children will live in. They are being taught to love, really truly love others, by someone who walks the walk. Someone who prayed her way off the alcohol, recommitted herself to God, began traveling the country to publicly speak her testimony, finally found the courage to expose the scars she had hidden under carefully planned clothing for several years, pen-pal counseled with victims of 9/11 (still does) and yes, forgave her tormentor completely.

She didn't go to the Memorial service today. She no longer needs to. There is no chance she'll ever forget that Spring day that started so beautifully, but she no longer dwells on it either. These days she spends working with the teenagers at her church, as I have done for many years at mine. We try to help them with the fear that a Virginia Tech tragedy could happen to them. We try to help them realize that goodness has to start somewhere, if not with lazy parents for some of them or bullies for others or in the awful, extreme cases of Oklahoma City and Virginia Tech, with an irrational, selfish murderer, then it is THEY who have the power to determine what kind of society they will produce. They get to decide if vindication is worth the down spiral of violence it creates. They have the choice to do good or to do evil. And they have the capacity, but only through Christ, to love those who don't necessarily deserve it, rather than choose revenge. THEY ARE CAPABLE of so much more than they often get the credit for. But the vast majority of them need a lot of encouragement to believe that. They - young people - when given the chance, often humble and amaze me. They are not the sum of a few misled evil perpetrators.

On this anniversary of the first modern day terrorism event on U.S. soil (except Pearl Harbor, perhaps?), in the fresh aftermath of the senseless carnage at Virginia Tech, from a woman whose been the very target and victim of such hatred on April 19, 1995, my friend Arlene, please just smile at the pimple-faced guy behind the counter at McDonald's next time you're there. Ask the teen aged cart handler in the Walmart parking lot how he's doing today and then really listen. Encourage the emerging young adults of today that they are capable and not helpless. Help them to know that they matter, because who they become certainly DOES matter. It matters a whole lot. We can not separate ourselves from those we find distasteful. They are our mission field. They are the future co-workers and neighbors of our own children. They absolutely matter.

May God bless each person who mourns a tragic death today. May He bring comfort to all those who grieve the loss of ANY loved one.

Real Faith

Honestly, today I am struggling. Struggling with a problem that I have faced for many many years and that if I could just have a good scream and get it over with, I would probably feel better. But I can not. To do what is right, though I don't always feel like it, I must preserve the dignity of guilty parties. I have my own attitude to keep in check also, of course, but right now I'm having a moment of fatigue at feeling like it is ALWAYS my turn to "do the right thing" in the situation. Of course, that's not true. I do not do the right thing when I tell God that I've had enough already. Apparently, He doesn't think so yet. And He does know best. THAT I still do know. I don't always necessarily FEEL it, but I do know it. That to me is what faith really is. A belief He is worthy of my trust EVEN when I can not find Him. He has not lost me. It just seems like it momentarily. I do still continue to count my blessings. Not because I am in any way morally superior. Just because He in His mercy has taught me to. It ALL comes back to Him. That I know. I have come to believe (but not yet fully accept) that this may be the thorn in my side that Paul speaks of that God chooses never to take away. I don't know why. It SEEMS like I have learned all I am supposed to from it. But maybe not. Maybe it is to produce in me TRUE long suffering. The kind that presses on despite the lack of any promise. That is how I know I believe in Him. Not because I always FEEL His presence; I don't always. Not merely because it's what I'm SUPPOSED to do. Not because of trying to build any sort of false testimony. Just because it's what He wants, for me to withhold my frustration and give it to Him. It's natural to want to try to please the one you love. And I DO love Him. The actions I am dealing with are not His. He is not to blame. He is sometimes my ONLY source of comfort when I can not otherwise share my struggles. Maybe right now, I can not see Him, because He is busy formulating an answer for me finally. I don't know. And at least by now I have learned that I don't have to know. I just want to continue to know HIM. Jesus said He came not to minister to the well, but to the sick. (They that be whole need not a Physician. Mark 9:12) Therefore, anyone claiming to know Him, but to have it all together spiritually has missed the point entirely. And it is precisely when I am at my weakest, that His glory is manifested best. I am completely unimpressed with the whole "buck up, push through, be brave and save yourself" mentality. Right verbiage and eloquent words won't help my situation. HE will. In HIS time. And for today, He HAS MADE ME SURE of this - no body else's judgement will separate me from Him, EVEN when I am unable to say "there He is." (The judgement from assumptions that I can't correct, because I must protect the very ones whose sins limits my choices.) That's the real faith that He gave me. It's far from perfect, but it's most definitely from Him. "I KNOW whom I have believed and am persuaded that HE is able to keep that which I've committed unto Him against that day." No one else has to believe me. I only need to believe Him.

April

I awoke this morning to my husband's arms wrapped around me and the feel of his warm breath in my hair. This is not something I ever take for granted.....especially lately. We have not gotten along very well at all. But he was trying, even though I am the one who forgot.

"You know what today is, don't you?" I am sure I would have thought of it eventually, but this is the first time I haven't thought of April 7 approaching for a few days beforehand. I'm not sure why.

Twelve years ago today, our lives changed. Two weeks before we were expecting the most drastic alter in our life's direction - marriage - IT happened first.

April 7, 1995, Greg's dad passed away from a stomach aneurysm while pouring concrete for a new residential neighborhood on the far north side of our metro. He had been given a clean bill of health from a complete physical just four months before. It was sudden and it was shocking.

And it was part of life. We understood that. What has made it still so difficult after all these many years, besides the obvious loss suffered (and their was much; this was a DEARLY loved man) has been the events of Aprils since. We are not superstitious and we do not claim there is any magic in this certain time frame. It has just become our experience that God seems to administer some sort of spiritual SAT to us all at various times in order to test our faith, and very often our time slot for the "Super section" of the test seems to fall in this month.

Not all of these tests are so negative. Take 1996, for example. The occasion was a happy one. I was pregnant with our first child and we were very happy about our impending arrival. But we also were very broke, trying to make it financially not only as newlyweds, but also helping Greg's mother and her two dependent sons, who were left widowed and orphaned by the previous year's events. Plus he was working so much to make ends meet, we pretty much NEVER saw each other.

In April 1997, we were stressed out brand new parents of a four-month-old when our pastor died. Our pastor who led me to Christ. No, LOVED me to Christ. Unconditionally. My Grandpa after mine had died.

Other years brought other deaths - an old childhood friend of my husband was murdered. One of his employees was electrocuted. That big teddy bear of a guy had a young wife and two year old baby when he passed. Once in April, one of my husband's employees was falsely suspected of a heinous abduction and murder of a young girl in Texas, a national news story, because the description of the truck so closely matched that of my husband's, which the employee had borrowed that weekend. It all got sorted out eventually, but it wreaked havoc on business and reputation for a few long days.

Anyway, I hadn't thought much about April approaching this year, except to eagerly anticipate Easter and our Anniversary. Until my husband's comment this morning. And I thought back over the last week. It was horrible. I didn't decide this upon my revelation that it was April. I've been very aware of how my week has gone since it began last Sunday.

Our identity was breached again. I only discovered this, of course, AFTER having spent three hours at the grocery store and then being unable to pay. And going out to lunch with a bunch of other moms I was just meeting for the first time on a school field trip and having to have them buy my lunch. Embarrassing. I spent the past 8 days with no access to cash at all. Nothing but a single credit card we use only for emergencies. We decided no food to eat probably constituted an emergency, so now we have racked up a bunch of finance charges just as we head into tax time. (And tax time for a business is way more hairy than tax time for personal income!)

Oh, and I wrecked my car. It is fine. Everyone in the wreck was fine. But it is a sickening feeling knowing that my brakes failed after discovering only a few months ago that the brake pads had worn off COMPLETELY after only 24,000 miles. We suspect that must be the case again - at only 33,000.

And then there are interpersonal problems. These hurt me the worst.

And the house, which I should be used to after three years. But living out of boxes for three years somehow doesn't get any easier with time.

And my niece is having her worst bout of illness since coming home from the transplant center last month.

I could go on and on. But I'm not going to. This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it. And if it sounds like I'm trying to convince myself as much as you, that's O.K. I am. And that's better than being stuck where I don't turn to Him and His promises.

He made April 7, 2007 just like He made April 7, 1995. He made them both to teach us to trust Him. Just like He made April 22, 1995 to give me a partner to face it all with. And April 19, 1995 three days before to teach us we are not alone in our trials - through the Oklahoma City bombing 15 miles away from where we wed. And five dates on the calendar set aside specifically to celebrate the important existence of a particular member of our family in this world.

Tomorrow is such an important day to celebrate as well. But it isn't here yet. And really, we do not have a promise that it will be. So just in case it never comes, THIS DAY, I will rejoice!!! Today, this day is most important.

Slaying the Spotted Cow

The best part of moving out here to our little country neighborhood has been the neighbors! This is our third home together as a married couple and every time we have moved we have been blessed with the best people around us. In all honesty, I have to give my husband a lot of credit for this. I do love to meet people and maintain relationships with them, but I really don't enjoy INITIATING friendships. I've tried to analyze why and I think it comes down to me just not trusting people to get to know who I really am. My way of dealing with shyness is by excessive talking, however strange that seems. And sometimes in all my babbling, I just get stupid. My husband is always encouraging me to "cut up with people" to break the ice, but the truth is that I am by nature more thoughtful and serious and "cutting up" is something I am really bad at. I try, but I usually just end up saying something that comes out ENTIRELY differently than how I intended it.

Meeting Romero and Fidela was different. Their first language is Spanish, and though I studied Spanish for eight years in grade school and college, I am by no means fluent, so they expect me to say everything all wrong. We have become fast friends. Romero and Fidela are two of the most generous people I have ever met. At least one or two days a week, they INSIST on cooking for us! It used to make me feel so guilty, or lazy, but honestly, cooking is my least favorite domestic activity, so it is a treat I have learned to fully appreciate and enjoy. And growing up in Texas near the Mexican border, Fidela prepares meals that hearken back to my time there. She finds it hilarious that one of my favorite television programs as a kid was in Spanish.

Romero and Fidela have routinely helped us in other ways as well. He has mowed our lawn while we were away without us making any arrangements for such. She has had the kids over just to give me 30 minutes alone. Tonight, they gave us about $200-$300 worth of free meat. Romero has a friend with a farm and a pregnant cow who gave birth to a large calf this morning. The problem is that the mother was herself a runt. Apparently the birthing process broke her back (literally) and left her moaning in pain. The decision was made to put her down and the friend, in his own generosity, offered the meat free to Romero. Romero, though, was the one who had to do the deed and haul the meat home. This was no problem to him. He had been accustomed to "acquiring his own meat" back in Mexico years ago when he owned a restaurant.

I remember my father once bringing home some venison that was in pretty raw form when I was younger. So I wasn't expecting anything too neat, obviously. But I also was not expecting - NONE OF US WERE - for Romero to approach the patio table where we had thankfully finished dining, and fling a hairy hoofed leg upon it! Then another. And two more! He had dissected the whole cow into transportable parts before coming home, but he had to leave them as intact as possible to prevent spoiling on the way. Unfortunately the children came out of the house to play just as he was arriving, and they saw it all!

At first this began to bother me. I mean, even Fidela was looking a little queasy. But then I realized that handled properly, this could be a great object lesson. We have only DESCRIBED to our children before that a big purpose behind animal sacrifice in the Bible, was so that the people would be faced with a tangible reminder that another must die for us to live. It was a picture of the sacrifice to come. That the Lamb of God would be slain for us to live eternally. "Without the shedding of blood, there is no remission of sin." (Hebrews 9:22) As the kids gasped and feigned choking, we reminded them of this. This was VERY real. Now they could actually see what they will later be eating, either directly or by way of a store bought replica. They will forever be much less likely to forget that each bite of food they are allowed to swallow is an explicit provision of God. And that provisions are not always pretty. We are so blessed in our society - maybe TOO blessed - not to be confronted with the ugliness of our food preparation. This was certainly my first time! But for centuries people prepared their own meat, and were reminded with each cut to be thankful. Most of us have lived our whole lives with a view of our meals that is so sanitized, we rush our prayers with an attitude of inconvenience, if not outright apathy. I realized that my children, though being disturbed for a moment, were being given a blessing too rare today in our world - a very vivid reminder of THE SACRIFICE we too often forget, ignore, and turn away from, because it just isn't very romantic. GOD HIMSELF, in the form of a man, the ONLY holy and righteous man to ever walk this Earth, shed His blood and gave HIS flesh to be torn. And He did so that we might partake of it - AND LIVE.

Standing Up

Sometimes I hesitate to write too many of this kind of a post in close proximity. I don't want to give off the false impression that as a family, we have it all together, praise God with every single instant of our lives (we should, but we don't ALWAYS), and there is never a failure or a fight. But this blog being first a journal for my family and a heritage for my grandchildren, not yet born for many years, I do want to record the many successes of my children for their encouragement and mine. I want to be able to read back through on the hard days, like several of them this week, and remember that slow and sticking progress is being made in the spiritual growth of our beloved children. I want them to be able to look back over our words one day and know the failures were forgotten, not just by God but by us as well, and the victories were proud moments for their parents.

Yesterday I was blessed with two of those moments. On a day when it seemed as though nothing else went according to my desires, when it seemed as though a million efforts on my part and my husband's and my mom's were for nought, when I was accepting such because of all that God has so faithfully taught me, when despite many a detour in the plans, I was O.K. with it, God gracefully gave me a heaping dose of encouragement anyway.

First, my daughter, who has been battling not one but three catty buddy bullies at her school and whose confidence level often seems non-existent, stood up to them. And she did it in the most important way. It seems that the bully gang and one of my daughter's friends, plus a couple of other girls were all pretending to be "witches" as they frolicked on the playground yesterday at recess. The three who normally exclude Faith from their presence offered her turn at being the witch and she told them, "Well, we are lucky to get to go to a Christian school and since witches and stuff like that are evil and don't belong to God, I don't want to play that." Thank You God!!! I honestly was surprised at her spot-on reaction. Her problems with these particular three have reached such a degree that I actually have a conference scheduled with the teacher about it today. And I love God for rewarding her confidence (her step of faith) by having my daughter's friend and another girl agree. "Yeah, we don't want to play that either." Please know that I am not making judgements about just how serious this whole situation was; I am just glad for how it worked out Faith's growth and commitment and confidence.

Then last night, we went early to my daughter's cheer leading exhibition to help out with set up and decorations. My son became bored at having to sit around while we worked, so he jumped in and found out what needed to be done. Apparently during the course of his work, someone remarked to him what a fine helper he was and that was all it took. He spent the next three hours in non-stop service, doing everything from serving the meal (I was SO PROUD of his latex gloves and his smile) to sweeping to stripping the decorations to putting away chairs and carrying out trash. He got dirty and broke a sweat. And before the night was over, people were making specific efforts to seek out his parents so they could tell us what a fine job he had done with joy in his heart. Just that ONE first comment was all it took. It reminded me to be constantly forgiving the bad and actively seeking the good in our children (in everyone for that matter.) He just needed that one assurance that his efforts matter. I know I feel the same way when someone takes the time to tell me when I've been a blessing. It's good for several more rounds of whatever it is that we're facing. I am so grateful to the adults who understood that and recognized my son. It's nice when it starts to come from someone other than just Mom and Dad. I think it validates a child that he is receiving that kind of recognition from someone who doesn't automatically love him already. And it sure does make a parent happy and proud!

A Father With Empty Arms And A Reason To Smile Anyway

You absolutely must - MUST - go read this! There is nothing more insightful, more poignent or more reassuring that I could offer today than what this father has written. He is so talented at describing in the most palpable detail, God's changing of his heart through the death of his only child - a perfect little boy named Eliot.

Better To Get Dirty And Wash Than To Miss The Muck And The Hugs In The Trenches

What a weird evening and morning. As I type, my two youngest children are watching a cartoon whose characters sport thick British accents, and for whatever reason, I'm finding it both wildly amusing and a little annoying. Anyhow, Faith threw up this morning (albeit minutely and with no other symptoms at all - I think it was more of one of those choke on your breath kind of things), so I've let her stay home from school today. Maybe an extra day of watching Mom do nothing but laundry will cure her ailment, which is possibly nothing more than a case of misplaced embarrassment.

After cheer practice last night, the director told me discreetly that the neighbor girl she brings with her to practice has lice. I am close enough to my friend to have been able to ask her "why, oh why then, didn't you tell us when practice first started?!" She is a hair stylist by trade and, she explained, had just discovered the problem for herself a couple of minutes earlier. In hindsight, I am glad. I am afraid I might have had more of a more knee-jerk reaction had we known any earlier. Apparently the girl's mother either didn't know - or more likely, didn't care. The little girl in question, C., is so very sweet and eager to please and so undeserving of her home life, or rather lack thereof. We coaches have the humble honor to be C.'s chosen adopted mother figures and I want to protect her little heart even more than I wanted to protect my daughter's beautiful blonde hair. The girls continued to play together as we talked and Robin assured us they probably had not had enough contact to be affected. I, on the other hand, had been so sweetly hugged several times earlier in the evening. We give hugs almost habitually. It's not that any one of them is particularly meaningful individually, but relenting at an embrace would have been. Finding out about the lice late in practice allowed me to reason that any transfer, if it were going to take place, probably already would have. It gave me a chance to temper my reaction thoughtfully. So after practice ended normally, Faith and I went to the store to buy treatments, just in case. The shampoo was smelly and I believe Faith probably had a case of self consciousness when she got up this morning, even though the smell is now barely detectable.

It's been a difficult year for Faith, realizing all on her own that the world is marred. I don't tell her about C.'s problems, but she figures it out. We had a long discussion last night about C. and how to handle the blunt details she sometimes offers about her family. She's not one to act out, but instead to just spill matter-of-factly what's happening - divorce, neglect, and a lot of fighting and frustration - stuff a lot of seven-year-old girls aren't yet familiar with, precisely because they shouldn't have to be. I find myself walking that fine line between wanting to protect my daughter's fading innocence and wanting to protect a precious little girl from not having the friendships she so desperately needs. I don't ever want to be too hasty in pulling my daughter away from her. If God had not allowed our ignorance last night, I might have been.

C. is the stunning product of some spiritually desperate parents and a God who almost tangibly fathers her on their behalf. She is so proud of her Jesus and I am proud of her. Sometimes I wish there were a shampoo that would wash away the "sins of the fathers." I guess there is. I just have to try to persuade people to read and believe it. Then my hope would be that we ALL would rinse and repeat daily!

COMMODITY TRADING

Here is a big fat warning to anyone out there who is just getting started on this crazy wonderful strange perplexing path called "Parenthood." When the "old-timers" (unfortunately, I almost count!) warn you to "enjoy them; they grow up too fast," they should be wearing neon orange vests, waving giant red flags and standing by enormous LED-lit billboards flashing "CAUTION! CAUTION! CAUTION!"

Blame it on having an unscheduled 9 days holed up together last week, or the fact that I have only 1 semester left with a preschooler at home, but I am missing those days terribly! I have been going before God lately with a whole lot of "Why's?" Not the "I don't trust You" kind of why's that invade certain other areas of my life. These are the "this is so confusing; I thought I had THIS part figured out and then you switched it up again and I'm trying to make sense of things but now I'm befuddled all over again...." kind of why's.

Unlike most little girls I know, I did not grow up with the fairytale dream of my Prince Charming and a white dress and a tidy house with the white picket fence. (O.K., I DID dream about the tidy house.....) It's not that I thought that was bad. My mom stayed home and raised my brother and I all the way through high school without taking a job. She managed to stay active and productive and create a real HOME, somewhere I always felt safe and loved and listened to. I have always been very impressed with her for this in a world that may have been more hostile to homemakers then than it is even now. I don't know why I never invisioned myself doing the same thing; it's one of the few things I don't analyze completely into the ground. I don't know WHY to that either.

Anyway, my dream was to go to college (I LOVED schoolwork; not school, but schoolwork - I was a freak, I know.) Then I wanted to get some great job where I traveled for meetings, with great-looking, girly power suits and a sharp alligator-skin brief case. Maybe I would meet someone, and we would date forever, but probably not marry. (Don't ask about intimacy; I never bothered to factor that in to my plans. I was a teenager, O.K.? It was all going to be EASY!)

I am SO TREMENDOUSLY THANKFUL God knows this heart He made better than I do!!! He knew what He designed it for and what it would need to get there. And He turned all my best-laid (completely stupid unrealistic) plans right on their ego-pumped heads. I'll save all the details of our family development for another day, but He gave me these three great wonders of humanity and let me call them my children.

Since I was born, I have by nature been extremely diligent in whatever I set my mind to. If my mission was now Motherhood, it was never a question for me that this would be any different. The problem was, I didn't feel like I was very maternal by nature, so this became my fervent prayer. I listened to the sage advice of those who have long since left the baby-raising days. Too many of them offer it for it to not be true. "ENJOY YOUR CHILDREN" I purposed in my heart to ENJOY the cheerios on my carpet, the pudding prints on the wall, the incessant screaming to get my attention when I haven't responded within two seconds. REALLY! I went from extreme impatience to a lot more of it - all because God found it to be a worthy goal of my heart. I had to listen and obey, but HE bestowed these abilities upon me. It was a process. It took time and lots of prayer and Bible study and a purposeful retraining of my brain.

And now, just when I'm at the peak of love with this insane craziness that is my little people.....they are going to school. I relish the conversations we have every morning on the way there. And I feel an uneasy emptiness as they first leave to go to class.

I realize this could easily become co-dependence on my children for my self-worth if I am not careful. God asked me to quit homeschooling in part because that was much of my reasoning for doing it. I know I have talents and service to explore outside of being "Mommy" to my children, but why now? Why didn't I have this longing and confidence at the beginning, before making so very many mistakes? Why is it so true what "THEY" always say - that as mothers our calling is "work ourselves out of a job?" I love this job! I don't WANT to ever finish it. And I know I never really will entirely. I know because I STILL need my mother more than I bother to tell her. But TIME is such a precious, rare, priceless commodity. I wish I could take each wonderful phase my children encounter (the one RIGHT NOW is ALWAYS the best one!) and bottle them up forever and ever and ever?!

Yes, each precious passing moment is unique, special, and can never ever again be returned. No one can find it in the street and bring it to my door. Too much time is wasted in this world. Time spent on work, traded for money. Time spent on fears, traded for wimpy choices. Time spent on doubt, traded for discontent. Time spent on me, traded for the hurt of those around me. I believe this is one of the world's biggest problems. Poorly spent time. I believe it is one of life's greatest temptations and one of an individual's most difficult balancing acts. Given two or three choices of well-spent time (husband or children, church or family, personal study or fellowship), how do you choose? How much time - and when - do they each receive their due attention? Of all the commodities we are given in this life - finances, education, even wisdom and beauty, I wouldn't trade time for any one of them. God, please help me to make CONSISTENTLY wise use of my time.

Two Hearts Unite

I just haven't been sure what to write without boring anyone with yet ANOTHER story of Ice Escapades - that has been ALL that has happened around here for 9 days now! Ice and snow and rain and STUCK inside, TRYING to keep the house SOMEWHAT clean! Notice all my EMPHASIS!

So without concentrating on writing flair, but just factual details that I can get through without crying, I share this:

The past year with my husband has finally been like the honeymoon period you're supposed to get the first couple of years of marriage before the kids come along. We'll have been married for 12 years in April. This was not an oversight on our part, or laziness in our relationship (God KNOWS it's NOT that!), but because for the first time in a DOZEN YEARS we are finally just getting to be "normal." We still have problems, but they are the garden variety. Broken pipes, molding kids' attitudes, running out of underwear with no laundry soap left. Yes, we built a house this past year. We moved and we had our identity stolen, but we also finally had time to do it all AS A TEAM. You can't imagine what a big deal this is to me!

When we met, my husband and I were both in our twenties and living on our own. We had our jobs (he worked construction with his Dad's company; I was Promotions and Technical Director at a radio station) and our hopes to meet Mr./Ms. Right. We were ready. Our first year of dating was all the fun and discovery that it should be. He found out I'm neurotic about being organized (yeah, God's let me learn the futility in THAT the past 3 years!) and I found out that he snores and well, isn't so neurotic about cleanliness. (I had to show him the vacuum had a disposable bag after he had it for 8 years!)

And soon, he would also find out just how little real adversity I had ever had to prepare me for our initiation into married life. Just two weeks before our Big Day, I was coming into my apartment carefully lugging my GORGEOUS finished wedding gown when I caught the tail end of a message playing on the answering machine. I had missed too many details to understand the context of the information being spoken, but there was panic in my church friend's voice. I laid the dress quickly across my bed and picked up the receiver. "Nikki. Oh, thank God you answered! You've got to get to the such-and-such hospital right now! Greg is there by himself and something really bad has happened to his dad." My first question to her was of course what had happened. She didn't know. Then I asked "why is he alone?" "It's a long story" she said, "and you don't have time!" I asked her how to get to this hospital. (It wasn't one of the ones in our near vicinity. He had been taken there from a job site he was working on.) She told me as well as she knew which wasn't exact at all - and I headed out immediately. God must have shown me straight there because I just remember showing up there - finally - about 30 minutes later. I ran in and rounded the corner of a long hallway to find my intended with his head hung low, staring blankly, defeated. And without ever knowing what had happened, I nevertheless knew the outcome. We didn't speak, just hugged and cried for the longest time. A brain aneurysm had taken his father's life without warning.

The funeral was held 5 days later. Then, 3 days before our wedding, which everyone insisted go on as scheduled to bring a bright spot to their healing, the Murrah Federal Building was bombed 15 miles away from our newlywed home (which was Greg's already). The majority of our out-of-town guests were already here and experienced it. I slept through it. I was supposed to be next door to the the Murrah building that morning, securing our wedding license at the court house, but I was sleeping in to recuperate from the emotional drain of the prior week's events. Our pastor preached the funeral of one of the child victims the day before we were married. On top of it all, our actual wedding day brought record low temperatures and 4 inches of rain. It was to be an outdoor garden reception.

This was the day God helped me begin to practice the art of perspective. I didn't cry at the rain. It was so insignificant in light of our loss. I didn't care that everyone was discussing the bombing. Those people who perished deserved remembrance. They had lost their lives as well. And besides, as far as I know, every single person who was invited to our wedding showed up to support us! Many pitched in to make sure the indoor reception was nothing short of spectacular.

But the one thing that haunted me that day, for years in fact, was that my betrothed never looked me in the eyes. On a day so full of emotion, ALL KINDS of emotion, I was hidden from him most of the day for the tradition of not seeing the bride before the "big moment." When the big moment finally came and I walked through the double doors, I think he glanced just long enough to know that I was THERE, alive, and then no more after that. Through the entire ceremony, he stared at a single spot on the floor, never even looking at me. He couldn't. It was all too much.

I just wish I had realized that then. I took offense instead. I NEEDED for him to be wowed, to accept me in as his wife, to relish in my comfort. He needed my understanding. To be gone for 14-16 hours a day that first year or two, trying his best to run a company and support not just a new wife, but also 10 employees, his mother and her two dependent children at home. All this at the tender age of 26. I didn't really realize then how very young he really was. I was often mad at his absence (both physically and especially emotionally) instead of proud of his AMAZING responsibility toward everyone involved. We both made so many mistakes. We never had that time, that incredible bonding that's needed to become one flesh, a team. Our circumstances gave us the worst possible start, one that's already difficult for most newly married couples and multiplied it exponentially. What is a usually a time of figuring out differences and meshing lives together was for us, a time of sharing space but not problems, heart thoughts or often when work intruded so dramatically, even the bed at night.

YEARS of difficulty followed, mostly but not all related to this very rough base of circumstances. But here's the inevitable positive spin. We are newlyweds now! Not in the sense of relishing in each and every word and deed all starry eyed and stuff. We've been together too long for that, seen each other sick and angry and generally for who we really are. But we're becoming a team. We have problems still, but we are tackling them, finally, together. We are going on dates. And most importantly (and I'm crying while I write), we are looking each other in the eyes when we say "I Love You." And we smile when we do it. For now, that's all the romance I ask.

Lessons From A Fiery Trial

Many of my friends or family members are going through deep valleys and exhausting trials right now. My own immediately family is just now on the tail end of a LONG trek through the valley of learning as well. Times are troubled and uncertain all around the world. It is no secret - even to the unbelieving. Life is more tiring and confusing than ever before. And it seems obvious to everyone.

Several of our friends have confided their problems to us in recent months eager for our
prayers - and our advice when their situations seem similar to our own recent past. Here is the best advice I can offer based on the very scriptures God used to speak to my heart in my own trial and the way He applied them personally to my problems at that time. These were verses I knew, but through our troubles they became so much sweeter. (I LOVE the description for the Scriptures as "the LIVING Word!")

LET GOD FORGIVE YOU.

He WANTS to forgive us. If He didn't, He wasted his humility and his blood on the cross at Calvary. Often when we are going through trials, we mess up more. Often the hurt we experience comes from facing something completely new we have never dealt with before. We are learning God's way of dealing with it AS WE GO. We know the automatic human response, but we are being conditioned to learn God's way of dealing with it - and we don't always get it right. He will correct us, but He does not WANT to "catch us" doing wrong (anymore than we glee at seeing our children falter), even after we have given our hearts to Him. The Bible clearly states that "He came not into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved." (John 3:17) I think a lot of Christians trust this at the hour of salvation, only to forget it as they walk with Him. I did. He does not want us to serve Him so much out of fear as from a heart of deep gratitude for all He has done to prove His patient love for us. ("We love Him because He first loved us." I John 4:19)

ONE OF THE THINGS WE MOST OFTEN NEED FORGIVENESS OF IS OUR LACKING JOY.
THE SIN IS NOT LACKING JOY AT OUR CIRCUMSTANCES, BUT IN LACKING TRUST IN OUR GOD

In almost every case, at least amongst my Christian friends, people convey a sense of guilt at losing their joy in the midst of a trial, even for a moment, even if joy is their usual response. I understand this. They want to be good witnesses and a loss of joy makes that difficult. You want to CONVEY to the world that you have something worth rejoicing in (because even in your pain you know in your heart it's true) and that's difficult when you don't SEEM to be any better for having Christ to lean on. I was the worst about this. I lacked joy when I suffered. And then I beat myself up for it worse than the unbelieving amongst me ever did.

And that was Satan's subtle way of keeping me in the mire so much longer. Guilt for ever hurting in the first place. Of course, we will have disappointments in this life. Of course, we will hurt when we are betrayed, rejected, or left lonely by the loss of a loved one. Rejoicing in these situations would not even be the appropriate response. ("To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:...A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance" Ecclesiastes 3: 1, 4) But rejoicing that we can trust in God to use the situation for good, to teach us something new, is a supernatural response He gives us to show the world that He indwells in us. It is NOT natural. It is what seperates us from the lost and proves His existence personanlly. THAT JOY is our shining light because it is evidence of HIM and HIS work in our lives! But we forget THAT JOY when we forget to look away from our SITUATION and "turn our eyes upon Jesus." And we do that a lot. What I learned from all this was, don't TRY to rejoice in your situation, but instead REJOICE in God who LET you go through it not JUST BECAUSE He trusted you handle it, but because He is actually using that situation to make you more like Him! It is not only O.K., but necessary to say "this stinks!" if we are to show that God is a God for ANYONE and not just the uber-optimistic and super-spiritual of the world. But we must always follow that up with "I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me." (Phillipians 4:19) We must be real in our trials, but without then acknowledging our hope in God's delieverance from them, we are merely complaining. We must be faithful to praise Him, even in the midst of the battle. That shows true faith -not just praising Him in hindsight. Faith is not just pointing to fulfilled evidence. It's believing in promises not yet fulfilled. I finally began learning not just conceptually, but personally what Paul meant when He said "I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content....I am instructed both to abound and to suffer need." (Phillipians 4:11b, 12b) "LEARNED" to me is the key word. You can't do it without the teaching experiences which are accomplished through the trials. We MUST endure trials. They are not the punishment for being so unlike God, but the means by which we become more like Him.

The main verse that brought this all to light was this (prophesying of Jesus): "He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." (Isa. 53: 2-4)

Jesus was not ALWAYS happy! He hurt at temptations (his friends falling asleep in the garden instead of praying for Him) and cried at death (Lazerus). He even asked the Father to remove the worst situation from His life if was at all possible. And our life's goal is to be LIKE HIM. Tempted but not defeated. Human and feeling, but not governed by those feelings. Knowledgable enough in the Word to fight off lies with belief in the Truth. I cringe now when I hear the advice to "follow your heart." Because the Bible says "The heart is deceitful above ALL things and desperately wicked. Who can know it?" (Jeremiah 17:9 - emphasis mine) You CAN NOT know what to believe unless you are familiar with the Word. If you don't use God's guidelines for testing truth, you will naturally fall back on "common sense," which is really nothing more than man's suppositions.

The greatest part of our sore temptations and long trials was this. It took certain parts of the Word I understood in CONCEPT and made sense of them personally, in a way that I could practice. That I could know not just in theory, but understand by exacting examples what they really mean. They were lessons that I could apply to my behavior and LIVE to truly become MORE like Him! I also learned how VERY MUCH more I still need to learn about Him. I could spend a lifetime and never touch the very outskirts of the holiness of my Savior. But I am at least off my spiritual plateau. I am at least climbing, drawing ever nearer to Him. And as long as I have my eyes on that goal - reaching Him.....as long as I keep Him in focus, it gives me drive toward a WONDERFUL goal worth reaching. I love my Lord. And as He lovingly waves His finger "come hither", I know He loves me too.

So my advice is this. Go back to the beginning - back to Salvation 101. REMEMBER He STILL forgives you. REMEMBER He STILL loves you. Hate the darkness this world sometimes produces. And love the Savior who walks through it with you. The Savior with the whole world at His feet who still CHOOSES to face the darkness sin brings JUST so He can be near You. "My bretheren, count it all joy when you fall into diverse temptations..." (James 1:2a) "Being confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ." (Phillipians 1:6)

And now if I may be so bold as to ask a quick prayer request. Please pray for my children to find godly friends who are able to play with them. We live in a neighborhood with few children and a long drive from town which sometimes prevents having friends over. This is a real need for all of us and has made for an exceedingly tearful day. Thank you!!