Yesterday may win the award for worst day of my life. As I write this I'm trying to decipher who or what is to blame the nightmare that is innocently referred to as the stomach flu. It's really miserable when one child is puking violently all night long, but when two are that is a fate close to purgatory. It gets worse though. As if I didn't need any more encouragement to live a faithful life as to avoid eternal damnation...
Two nights after racing the boys to the toilet all night long (some times making it)our entire family suffered through the mess, and all I had to thankful for during the whole horrid incident was having two bathrooms. -Oh and the sweet person who brought us ginger ale and saltines just when I thought we would all die from dehydration. Right now you're thinking..."wow she's being a bit dramatic".
No my dear friends, no. Just go wash your hands and avoid anyone who is pale because I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy (a thought I actually considered while caressing my bathroom floor yesterday).
I wish I could purchase stock in bleach.
And now the clean up begins. As I walk around my house and see what occurs when a five year old and his kid brother are left to their own devices I still do not wish for yesterday to ever return. Rest assured when I finish bleaching the bathrooms, I'll start on the light switches, and hopefully I'll get to the half eaten apples that await me in the freezer.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Unashamed.
I love my children. I also embarrass easily. These two statements mean one thing. I’m often embarrassed by my children even though I adore them. Last night my middle child ran screaming through the church building for what seemed like the hundredth time. When I stopped him to “talk” about the issue he became very frustrated and began growling responses at me loudly. Normal parents may have understood this to be the typical behavior of an irritated five year old boy. None the less, I wanted to hide behind the rack of winter coats and let him stomp off to growl elsewhere.
There were people around to witness this encounter with my growling son, and I don’t know whether it was my mood or if it was the little monster that I was currently trying to contain but I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed because he was calling attention to himself and, in turn, me. I was embarrassed because once again he was racing through the sweet people who brave the weather and come to Wednesday night bible class. I realized then that I should face the fact that more indiscretions may come in my life and comparatively this is nothing.
I know another minister’s wife whose daughter became pregnant in high school. The whole congregation knew. The whole town knew. This minister’s wife was embarrassed. She placed a great deal of blame on herself and still does for her daughter’s actions. She was aware that the church was buzzing of the news. Regardless, she marched into worship time and again facing the stares, the unhelpful comments, the gossip, and even the accusations of guilt. She loved her daughter, but was wilting inside for the choices her daughter made.
Likewise, I know a mother whose son dealt with a drug addiction for years and years and was once hospitalized due to an overdose. She held her head high even though she was aching to save her son from the beast that had him by the ankle. She would have willingly taken on his addiction if it meant his freedom from it. She hurt everyday for him, worried every second, and yet she loved and smiled knowing God is in control.
There is something about being a parent that disallows us to completely differentiate from our children regardless of how hard we try. They are ours; our very flesh and blood. Our children have the ability to make up every joy and every sorrow that likewise make up our life. Being a parent truly allows one to begin to grasp the infinite and wondrous love of the creator, and even then we can’t reach the hem of his garment when it comes to comprehending it.
Our heavenly Father must have days where He looks at us and considers hiding in a coat closet. When I think of the choices I’ve made in the past, and the ones I make on a daily basis I wonder and wait for the day I get a notice in the mail that says…”No longer acceptable to enter heaven; name removed from list.”
Some days I can’t believe that He isn’t ashamed of us. Some days I sit in awe at the fact that He sacrificed and suffered humiliation for me even though I am a monster.
The bible says that while we acted ignorantly in unbelief, the grace of our Lord overflowed for us-- overflowed. And that Christ came into the world specifically to save sinners. He displays his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life (1 Timothy 1:13-16). He came for us, the monsters, the growling beasts making one bad choice after another. He isn’t embarrassed of this. This was the plan from the beginning: to get us out of here, to save us from ourselves. He is willing to save us just like the mommy walking into church facing the gossip; just like the mommy holding her head high facing her son’s addiction. He won’t ever ever give up on us.
May we ever try to make him proud of his children. May we continually thank him for his sacrifice.
There were people around to witness this encounter with my growling son, and I don’t know whether it was my mood or if it was the little monster that I was currently trying to contain but I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed because he was calling attention to himself and, in turn, me. I was embarrassed because once again he was racing through the sweet people who brave the weather and come to Wednesday night bible class. I realized then that I should face the fact that more indiscretions may come in my life and comparatively this is nothing.
I know another minister’s wife whose daughter became pregnant in high school. The whole congregation knew. The whole town knew. This minister’s wife was embarrassed. She placed a great deal of blame on herself and still does for her daughter’s actions. She was aware that the church was buzzing of the news. Regardless, she marched into worship time and again facing the stares, the unhelpful comments, the gossip, and even the accusations of guilt. She loved her daughter, but was wilting inside for the choices her daughter made.
Likewise, I know a mother whose son dealt with a drug addiction for years and years and was once hospitalized due to an overdose. She held her head high even though she was aching to save her son from the beast that had him by the ankle. She would have willingly taken on his addiction if it meant his freedom from it. She hurt everyday for him, worried every second, and yet she loved and smiled knowing God is in control.
There is something about being a parent that disallows us to completely differentiate from our children regardless of how hard we try. They are ours; our very flesh and blood. Our children have the ability to make up every joy and every sorrow that likewise make up our life. Being a parent truly allows one to begin to grasp the infinite and wondrous love of the creator, and even then we can’t reach the hem of his garment when it comes to comprehending it.
Our heavenly Father must have days where He looks at us and considers hiding in a coat closet. When I think of the choices I’ve made in the past, and the ones I make on a daily basis I wonder and wait for the day I get a notice in the mail that says…”No longer acceptable to enter heaven; name removed from list.”
Some days I can’t believe that He isn’t ashamed of us. Some days I sit in awe at the fact that He sacrificed and suffered humiliation for me even though I am a monster.
The bible says that while we acted ignorantly in unbelief, the grace of our Lord overflowed for us-- overflowed. And that Christ came into the world specifically to save sinners. He displays his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life (1 Timothy 1:13-16). He came for us, the monsters, the growling beasts making one bad choice after another. He isn’t embarrassed of this. This was the plan from the beginning: to get us out of here, to save us from ourselves. He is willing to save us just like the mommy walking into church facing the gossip; just like the mommy holding her head high facing her son’s addiction. He won’t ever ever give up on us.
May we ever try to make him proud of his children. May we continually thank him for his sacrifice.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
More.
For years we’ve believed that more is better; more money, more things, more work, more sex, more food, more time. What we wanted was a façade that temporarily appeased our ache for more of something else. For years in return we accumulated more debt, more depression, more stress, more anxiety, more sexual disorders, more obesity, more divorce, and less time.
What we loaded on our shoulders was more; more of everything except what mattered; more of what enslaved us rather than freed.
Somehow during the days of accumulation we taught ourselves to gain more, but convinced ourselves that we’d had enough of faith, enough of God, enough of the church. All things in moderation after all.
What we needed all along was a different kind of more; more prayer, more simplicity, more fasting, more hospitality, more patience, more silence, more generosity, more sacrifice….more Jesus.
This question remains. What do you do to help a generation lost in more of the wrong things; a generation so confused regarding all that matters that they continue to seek more burdened backs?
Some believe that the focus must be on an education on the matters of finance.
I contend that what was missing was by some small measure a lack of financial knowledge. Perhaps even more so was a complete and absolute love, if not addiction, of pleasing self.
We allowed ourselves to forget that the one that we supposedly serve owned little, maybe nothing. The one that we pledged our very souls to slept with a stone for his pillow. Did He whine about this? During His final days did he pray that we would have more material goods than He did?
In a time, where we watch the heartache of a country far away, where destruction is piled around man, where sadness dwells on every corner, let’s take time to think of what more we could offer someone who really needs it.
For me, I’m going to stop assuming that every poor person I run into deserves poverty. I’m going to stop assuming that every homeless man on the street is getting his just deserts tonight as he sleeps in the snow, while I comfortably lounge on my couch in my heated home.
It is time to really follow Christ, the true humanitarian. I’m reminded of an old hymn we used to sing…
Oh, the bitter pain and sorrow that a time could ever be,
When I proudly said to Jesus, “All of self, and none of Thee”.
All of self and none of Thee, all of self and none of Thee!
When I proudly said to Jesus, “All of self, and none of Thee.”
Yet He found me; I beheld Him bleeding on the accursed tree,
And my wistful heart said faintly, “Some of self, and some of Thee”.
Some of self and some of thee, Some of self and some of thee.
And my wistful heart said faintly “Some of self and some of Thee”.
Day by day His tender mercy healing, helping, full and free,
Bro’t me lower while I whispered, “Less of self and more of Thee”.
Less of self and more of Thee, Less of self and more of thee.
Bro’t me lower while I whispered, “Less of self and more of Thee.”
Higher than the highest heavens, Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lord, Thy love at last has conquered, “None of self, and all of Thee.”
None of self and all of thee, None of self and ALL of Thee!
Lord, Thy love at last has conquered, "None of self and all of Thee".
What we loaded on our shoulders was more; more of everything except what mattered; more of what enslaved us rather than freed.
Somehow during the days of accumulation we taught ourselves to gain more, but convinced ourselves that we’d had enough of faith, enough of God, enough of the church. All things in moderation after all.
What we needed all along was a different kind of more; more prayer, more simplicity, more fasting, more hospitality, more patience, more silence, more generosity, more sacrifice….more Jesus.
This question remains. What do you do to help a generation lost in more of the wrong things; a generation so confused regarding all that matters that they continue to seek more burdened backs?
Some believe that the focus must be on an education on the matters of finance.
I contend that what was missing was by some small measure a lack of financial knowledge. Perhaps even more so was a complete and absolute love, if not addiction, of pleasing self.
We allowed ourselves to forget that the one that we supposedly serve owned little, maybe nothing. The one that we pledged our very souls to slept with a stone for his pillow. Did He whine about this? During His final days did he pray that we would have more material goods than He did?
In a time, where we watch the heartache of a country far away, where destruction is piled around man, where sadness dwells on every corner, let’s take time to think of what more we could offer someone who really needs it.
For me, I’m going to stop assuming that every poor person I run into deserves poverty. I’m going to stop assuming that every homeless man on the street is getting his just deserts tonight as he sleeps in the snow, while I comfortably lounge on my couch in my heated home.
It is time to really follow Christ, the true humanitarian. I’m reminded of an old hymn we used to sing…
Oh, the bitter pain and sorrow that a time could ever be,
When I proudly said to Jesus, “All of self, and none of Thee”.
All of self and none of Thee, all of self and none of Thee!
When I proudly said to Jesus, “All of self, and none of Thee.”
Yet He found me; I beheld Him bleeding on the accursed tree,
And my wistful heart said faintly, “Some of self, and some of Thee”.
Some of self and some of thee, Some of self and some of thee.
And my wistful heart said faintly “Some of self and some of Thee”.
Day by day His tender mercy healing, helping, full and free,
Bro’t me lower while I whispered, “Less of self and more of Thee”.
Less of self and more of Thee, Less of self and more of thee.
Bro’t me lower while I whispered, “Less of self and more of Thee.”
Higher than the highest heavens, Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lord, Thy love at last has conquered, “None of self, and all of Thee.”
None of self and all of thee, None of self and ALL of Thee!
Lord, Thy love at last has conquered, "None of self and all of Thee".
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