Lately I've become a victim of Facebook envy. I stare at my newsfeed watching all the cute pictures of toddlers and their Moms scroll by. I "like" their pictures. Sometimes I "love" them. And behind it all, I'm envying where they are...
I remember being in that phase of parenting, and I remember how hard it felt. I'm not discounting the difficulties you have: sleep deprivation, the press of small bodies constantly needing something, trying to figure out how to balance it all. Yes, it's hard. Very hard some days. So hard, in fact, that you can often don't see the blessings in front of you. Looking back, I know I didn't. And (thank you "On this Day" button) I often find myself wishing for a time machine so that I could have a do over and care less about the stuff that didn't matter.
And to that end, I am trying very hard to make the most of this season of parenting. Of where I am right now. But - NO SURPRISE - it's very difficult. Most days, I feel like I'm doing everything wrong. The really difficult part about this stage though is that joy seems harder to find. The problems can't be fixed with a hug and kiss. Ice cream no longer mends fences. And I want to go backward, because right here hurts and looking forward to the next step of motherhood is just dog-gone scary.
I've spent the last fifteen plus years being a Mom. This morning, reading back through some of my old blog posts, my eyes teared up as I remembered the early days. And I found myself truly, deeply missing them. So much. Because back then, the hard things were things I could count on coming to an end. They were fixable. Now, I look at my almost-grown-up daughter, and I can't believe the time is gone. I can't believe that my days of announcing a trip to McDonalds WITH the play place are finished. Life was hard, but connecting wasn't. It happened with bed time stories and kisses and hugs. It happened with quick trips out that cost little and netted much.
Now, it's harder to blog about being a Mom. It's harder to post fun pictures that capture our lives. Because while life isn't as hard as it once was...connecting is harder. Much harder. And all too often, the day ends and it hasn't happened.
I want to make the most of this season. Somehow. Not sure how. :) But crying over the toddler pictures probably isn't going to do much to accomplish that goal. So, for now, I keep trying until I find the magic formula. I promise (myself mostly, since this blog is really for me, lol) that the next post will be much more up-lifting. For this week though, real life is at the forefront. #transparency
Friday, July 14, 2017
Wednesday, June 14, 2017
[Awkward] Family Reunions - Genesis 45
Ever been to an awkward family reunion? You know the kind. Aunt Bertha hates cousin Bernice because thirty years ago Bernice dated Bubba, even though she knew that Aunt Bertha's daughter Bonita was sweet on her? The family has not-so-neatly divided into sides on this pointless argument, and they all sit on opposite sides of the buffet table glaring at each other and gloating if they get the better piece of fried chicken?
Family reunions: Hatfield vs. McCoy edition. Always an adventure.
Joseph and his brothers had a pretty epic awkward family reunion... Picture it: Egypt, a whole bunch of years B.C. You are standing there being the big shot ruler, when suddenly your brothers walk in. The very same brothers that dumped you in a pit and left you for dead after selling you into slavery. Just a LITTLE more awkward that Bertha, Bonita, and Bubba... But we've already overcome the anger and bitterness. Now there is the hard part: reconciliation.
Joseph has had years to accept what has happened to him. He has come to understand that it is ultimately for his own good. He has also come to understand that perhaps his brothers have changed, because they are thinking more about the welfare of their father and their youngest brother than they are about their own welfare.
But.
It still can't be completely easy to have this moment. To come together, rewinding the years and facing all that has been lost and gained in the process. Knowing that God has allowed all this for His purpose, and seeing those responsible in front of you. For the brothers, having come to understand the depth of the evil you perpetrated, and seeing the victim standing before you, forgiving. How hard is that? I can't imagine, but then I can.
Only God can reconcile that. Only He can bring that kind of mercy into a heart. Only He can help a guilty soul bear the shame. I am reminded of Corrie ten Boom, who forgave the guard from her concentration camp, and in that moment felt all of the hate and the forgiveness collide. In a world where "tolerance" has become defined as "agree with me NOW or else", we need that divine acceptance now more than ever.
When Joseph says, these words, I can only imagine their impact across the millennia: "I am Joseph!” he said to his brothers. “Is my father still alive?” But his brothers were speechless! They were stunned to realize that Joseph was standing there in front of them. 4 “Please, come closer,” he said to them. So they came closer. And he said again, “I am Joseph, your brother, whom you sold into slavery in Egypt.5 But don’t be upset, and don’t be angry with yourselves for selling me to this place. It was God who sent me here ahead of you to preserve your lives. 6 This famine that has ravaged the land for two years will last five more years, and there will be neither plowing nor harvesting. 7 God has sent me ahead of you to keep you and your families alive and to preserve many survivors.[a] 8 So it was God who sent me here, not you! And he is the one who made me an adviser[b] to Pharaoh—the manager of his entire palace and the governor of all Egypt."
He first says, "Come closer." Oh, the power of those words. And then he says, "Don't be angry with yourselves." Only one has truly embraced divine forgiveness can ask a guilty person to forgive themselves...Joseph embraced the fact that God had truly kept his promise: his brothers had bowed down to him. Joseph also had to embrace that the suffering he had experienced was part of that promise.
This blog post may not make sense to anyone but me, but in my heart, it sings. God was "in the waiting" of every part of this story, and he turned an awkward family reunion into a restoration and reconciliation. That's what I pray for my world today.
Our praise team learned this song last weekend. It's my new favorite, because it has been so true of God's promises to me.
Bethel - "Take Courage"
Family reunions: Hatfield vs. McCoy edition. Always an adventure.
Joseph and his brothers had a pretty epic awkward family reunion... Picture it: Egypt, a whole bunch of years B.C. You are standing there being the big shot ruler, when suddenly your brothers walk in. The very same brothers that dumped you in a pit and left you for dead after selling you into slavery. Just a LITTLE more awkward that Bertha, Bonita, and Bubba... But we've already overcome the anger and bitterness. Now there is the hard part: reconciliation.
Joseph has had years to accept what has happened to him. He has come to understand that it is ultimately for his own good. He has also come to understand that perhaps his brothers have changed, because they are thinking more about the welfare of their father and their youngest brother than they are about their own welfare.
But.
It still can't be completely easy to have this moment. To come together, rewinding the years and facing all that has been lost and gained in the process. Knowing that God has allowed all this for His purpose, and seeing those responsible in front of you. For the brothers, having come to understand the depth of the evil you perpetrated, and seeing the victim standing before you, forgiving. How hard is that? I can't imagine, but then I can.
Only God can reconcile that. Only He can bring that kind of mercy into a heart. Only He can help a guilty soul bear the shame. I am reminded of Corrie ten Boom, who forgave the guard from her concentration camp, and in that moment felt all of the hate and the forgiveness collide. In a world where "tolerance" has become defined as "agree with me NOW or else", we need that divine acceptance now more than ever.
When Joseph says, these words, I can only imagine their impact across the millennia: "I am Joseph!” he said to his brothers. “Is my father still alive?” But his brothers were speechless! They were stunned to realize that Joseph was standing there in front of them. 4 “Please, come closer,” he said to them. So they came closer. And he said again, “I am Joseph, your brother, whom you sold into slavery in Egypt.5 But don’t be upset, and don’t be angry with yourselves for selling me to this place. It was God who sent me here ahead of you to preserve your lives. 6 This famine that has ravaged the land for two years will last five more years, and there will be neither plowing nor harvesting. 7 God has sent me ahead of you to keep you and your families alive and to preserve many survivors.[a] 8 So it was God who sent me here, not you! And he is the one who made me an adviser[b] to Pharaoh—the manager of his entire palace and the governor of all Egypt."
He first says, "Come closer." Oh, the power of those words. And then he says, "Don't be angry with yourselves." Only one has truly embraced divine forgiveness can ask a guilty person to forgive themselves...Joseph embraced the fact that God had truly kept his promise: his brothers had bowed down to him. Joseph also had to embrace that the suffering he had experienced was part of that promise.
This blog post may not make sense to anyone but me, but in my heart, it sings. God was "in the waiting" of every part of this story, and he turned an awkward family reunion into a restoration and reconciliation. That's what I pray for my world today.
Our praise team learned this song last weekend. It's my new favorite, because it has been so true of God's promises to me.
Bethel - "Take Courage"
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
Genesis 44 . The Circle Comes Full
After a bit of a break to try to get boxes moved and enough "stuff" settled to keep my sanity, I'm back on my morning routine...although at the moment, it's a bit more of a mid-morning routine. Early mornings have never really been my thing, but I'm not done trying on that score yet either. :)
**Special Public Service Announcement from my 15 year old daughter who SHOULD be doing the dishes, and is NOW on her way to do said dishes:*** Note: Genesis 44 does not actually say what she purports it to say, but some of it is true. Just not the "perfection" part. 😜
"Genesis 44 also shows that Noelle is the best person in the world. She is just so amazing. There's no one like her, she just makes everyone so happy and she's so talented; no one can measure up to the perfection of her perfection."
Genesis 44 shows a reunion of brothers, even though Israel's sons don't know that they have now come face to face with the brother they betrayed. It has to be a compelling moments for Joseph, thought, sitting there looking at his brothers, knowing who they are, and knowing that they have no idea who he might be.
He's observing, looking back through the years to his growing up experience. He's watching, and I can only imagine the kaleidoscope of emotions that is flowing over him in this moment. Probably anger, frustration, joy, grief...a whole bunch of complicated stuff. And as he watches, I can't help but imagine that there is a question in his mind: Have they changed, or are these the same men who left me to die in a pit and sold my life off for nothing? Out of jealousy?
Judah answers that question for Joseph when he speaks in verse 33: “So please, my lord, let me stay here as a slave instead of the boy, and let the boy return with his brothers." The man who once stood by and allowed his brother to be sold away without a thought now is willing to take the place of another brother. No doubt Joseph had gotten beyond some of his anger and bitterness - otherwise he would not have survived - but this had to be a big moment for him. Know that as God had been positioning him, He had also been changing those who hurt him.
That is a lesson we can all apply to our lives. People hurt us. They damage us. They do things that aren't right, and they aren't fair. By reasonable standards, they don't deserve forgiveness. But we are commanded to forgive. Why? Because it's what He requires. But why does He require it? Because He knows it is the only way that we can truly move forward and grow within ourselves.
I'm so thankful that God has brought me through some ugly times. I am equally thankful that I can look at people who have caused me pain and see that He is working on them too. I pray that everyone can have more Joseph moments, because those moments are what bring understanding to us in dark moments of time.
**Special Public Service Announcement from my 15 year old daughter who SHOULD be doing the dishes, and is NOW on her way to do said dishes:*** Note: Genesis 44 does not actually say what she purports it to say, but some of it is true. Just not the "perfection" part. 😜
"Genesis 44 also shows that Noelle is the best person in the world. She is just so amazing. There's no one like her, she just makes everyone so happy and she's so talented; no one can measure up to the perfection of her perfection."
Genesis 44 shows a reunion of brothers, even though Israel's sons don't know that they have now come face to face with the brother they betrayed. It has to be a compelling moments for Joseph, thought, sitting there looking at his brothers, knowing who they are, and knowing that they have no idea who he might be.
He's observing, looking back through the years to his growing up experience. He's watching, and I can only imagine the kaleidoscope of emotions that is flowing over him in this moment. Probably anger, frustration, joy, grief...a whole bunch of complicated stuff. And as he watches, I can't help but imagine that there is a question in his mind: Have they changed, or are these the same men who left me to die in a pit and sold my life off for nothing? Out of jealousy?
Judah answers that question for Joseph when he speaks in verse 33: “So please, my lord, let me stay here as a slave instead of the boy, and let the boy return with his brothers." The man who once stood by and allowed his brother to be sold away without a thought now is willing to take the place of another brother. No doubt Joseph had gotten beyond some of his anger and bitterness - otherwise he would not have survived - but this had to be a big moment for him. Know that as God had been positioning him, He had also been changing those who hurt him.
That is a lesson we can all apply to our lives. People hurt us. They damage us. They do things that aren't right, and they aren't fair. By reasonable standards, they don't deserve forgiveness. But we are commanded to forgive. Why? Because it's what He requires. But why does He require it? Because He knows it is the only way that we can truly move forward and grow within ourselves.
I'm so thankful that God has brought me through some ugly times. I am equally thankful that I can look at people who have caused me pain and see that He is working on them too. I pray that everyone can have more Joseph moments, because those moments are what bring understanding to us in dark moments of time.
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
Life Isn't Fair...So Make Lemonade
Genesis 39: Life's Not Fair...So Make Lemonade
It's the day before we move, and I'm a little out of sorts because things aren't quite finished and aren't quite done. That makes me nervous. :) . My comfortable, well-appointed little home is in shambles and empty...and a little sad. It's the way it works with moving. You have to tear up roots to plant new ones. You have to dismantle one home to build another.
I guess it's appropriate that in the midst of my (self-induced) stress, I picked back up with my study of Genesis this morning, resuming it at chapter 39. That's the place where Joseph gets sold into slavery and finds himself a servant in Potiphar's house. So, what's a good guy in that kind of story to do? Why, become the BEST SLAVE EVER! Of course! And rise to the point of being a trusted right hand man. If the story ended there, it would be awesome and triumphant. But it doesn't.
See, Joseph was about to be reminded again of one of those universal facts in this universe we inhabit. Life. Is. Not. Fair. You can be a good guy. You can be faithful. You can keep your nose clean and do what you're supposed to do. But then... then you get slapped by reality. In Joseph's case, he got slapped by Potiphar's lying, conniving wife.
I think I like Joseph's story because I would be so tempted to sulk. I would be tempted to throw up my hands and weep because this is just NOT FAIR. I didn't deserve slavery, but I was a good slave. I DEFINITELY don't deserve a wrongful felony conviction when I didn't do ANYTHING except NOT sin. I would probably be having a long and not exactly pious conversation with the Lord about all that. And maybe Joseph did too...but I doubt it. His story just paints him as going into the prison and making the best of a really bad situation. What do you do when you're a good guy in jail for a crime you didn't do? You become the BEST PRISONER EVER! Of course.
Confession time: I'm tempted to sulk even right now. And life is pretty good. When a little bump in the road hits, I feel the "It's Not Fair" tide rising in me, and I want to scream at the sky. And people, it's a LITTLE bump. But I don't like bumps. I plan things because I like them to go smoothly. I don't like surprises. I like predictable. But God doesn't work that way always.
The reminder for me today is that I must trust God in all things. Little and big. I must remember that what I see as a stumbling block, He doesn't always see that way. I need to remember that it's not all about me. At all. And in the middle of my sad empty house, I think I may make lemonade...or I may just go buy some, since everything in my kitchen is packed up. :D
Genesis 39: 21-23
21 But the Lord was with Joseph in the prison and showed him his faithful love. And the Lord made Joseph a favorite with the prison warden. 22 Before long, the warden put Joseph in charge of all the other prisoners and over everything that happened in the prison. 23 The warden had no more worries, because Joseph took care of everything. The Lord was with him and caused everything he did to succeed.
It's the day before we move, and I'm a little out of sorts because things aren't quite finished and aren't quite done. That makes me nervous. :) . My comfortable, well-appointed little home is in shambles and empty...and a little sad. It's the way it works with moving. You have to tear up roots to plant new ones. You have to dismantle one home to build another.
I guess it's appropriate that in the midst of my (self-induced) stress, I picked back up with my study of Genesis this morning, resuming it at chapter 39. That's the place where Joseph gets sold into slavery and finds himself a servant in Potiphar's house. So, what's a good guy in that kind of story to do? Why, become the BEST SLAVE EVER! Of course! And rise to the point of being a trusted right hand man. If the story ended there, it would be awesome and triumphant. But it doesn't.
See, Joseph was about to be reminded again of one of those universal facts in this universe we inhabit. Life. Is. Not. Fair. You can be a good guy. You can be faithful. You can keep your nose clean and do what you're supposed to do. But then... then you get slapped by reality. In Joseph's case, he got slapped by Potiphar's lying, conniving wife.
I think I like Joseph's story because I would be so tempted to sulk. I would be tempted to throw up my hands and weep because this is just NOT FAIR. I didn't deserve slavery, but I was a good slave. I DEFINITELY don't deserve a wrongful felony conviction when I didn't do ANYTHING except NOT sin. I would probably be having a long and not exactly pious conversation with the Lord about all that. And maybe Joseph did too...but I doubt it. His story just paints him as going into the prison and making the best of a really bad situation. What do you do when you're a good guy in jail for a crime you didn't do? You become the BEST PRISONER EVER! Of course.
Confession time: I'm tempted to sulk even right now. And life is pretty good. When a little bump in the road hits, I feel the "It's Not Fair" tide rising in me, and I want to scream at the sky. And people, it's a LITTLE bump. But I don't like bumps. I plan things because I like them to go smoothly. I don't like surprises. I like predictable. But God doesn't work that way always.
The reminder for me today is that I must trust God in all things. Little and big. I must remember that what I see as a stumbling block, He doesn't always see that way. I need to remember that it's not all about me. At all. And in the middle of my sad empty house, I think I may make lemonade...or I may just go buy some, since everything in my kitchen is packed up. :D
Genesis 39: 21-23
21 But the Lord was with Joseph in the prison and showed him his faithful love. And the Lord made Joseph a favorite with the prison warden. 22 Before long, the warden put Joseph in charge of all the other prisoners and over everything that happened in the prison. 23 The warden had no more worries, because Joseph took care of everything. The Lord was with him and caused everything he did to succeed.
Monday, May 29, 2017
The Sad End of a King
School is done (shout hallelujah!) and my mornings no longer feel like race to the finish line, which is really just a starting line. The joy in that, of course, is time for coffee, reading, and thinking before I have to kick into high gear.
This morning, I was finishing out the book of I Samuel after an incredibly long break from doing any serious reading. No real excuses. Just life as a parent, teacher, and newlywed in the middle of a move. Things have been hectic...
But, back to the last chapter of I Samuel. The entire chapter is pretty dark, depressing, and blindingly sad. Saul, who was once a great and might king - also tall, dark, and handsome, according to the scriptures - ends his life as a sniveling coward on the field of a massively failed battle. The usual lesson here is more about David than Saul; after all, most of us just look at the two for contrast. Lately, though, I've felt a lot of sadness about lost potential, and I guess that's why I see Saul's story as one that is so very tragic.
I see a young man, uncomfortable in his own skin, hiding behind bags so that he doesn't get called out. I see a new king desperately insecure, and therefore trying to build himself up by bullying others and pressuring them under his authority. I see a man drivenn by jealousy and arrogance to homicidal craziness. It makes me sad. Mostly because I see a whole lot of Sauls surrounding me in the world.
You don't have to look past Facebook to see it. The trending stories on the right hand side of your screen will weekly have a few old rock stars or movie stars who have ended their lives in a blaze of drugs, alcohol, and wasted potential. There will be tributes to them, of course, lauding early achievements as everyone tries to forget the way it ended. The pictures will focus on a young man or woman, in their prime, before their individual demons did their damage. That fame will inspire another generation to follow down the wrong path, convinced that they are different and the bad stuff just won't happen to them.
You can see it in passive-aggressive posts that have no place on social media. Meanness and armchair judgment blasted from the safety of your phone, tablet, or computer is so much easier than compassion. So that's what most do. The spirit of Saul - the spirit of the insecure bully - can be seen in its shining glory, on display for all to see.
But we cannot forget that Saul isn't a hero. He is not remembered for any accomplishments, only for the meaner parts of his spirit and personality. He is defined by his hatred of those loyal to him, because he never could believe in himself. By the fact that his own son could see just what he was, and therefore he hated him too.
Saul's story breaks my heart, because it is a story of lost potential and failure to understand that humility is the key to success. In a world that is defined by self promotion, it is essential that we remember that Jesus called us to make ourselves servants. Servants wouldn't do promotional videos about how awesome they are. Sauls would.
I wish I could have talked to that young Saul hiding behind all the baggage. I wish I could have told him that he didn't have to compete with anyone because God had anointed him to be king. I wish that I could tell him that he didn't have to maintain his own position by scheming and dominance. He just needed to trust in God. He just needed to obey.
I wish his story had a different end, and I wish the same for every trending story on the side of my Facebook feed.
I Samuel 31
This morning, I was finishing out the book of I Samuel after an incredibly long break from doing any serious reading. No real excuses. Just life as a parent, teacher, and newlywed in the middle of a move. Things have been hectic...
But, back to the last chapter of I Samuel. The entire chapter is pretty dark, depressing, and blindingly sad. Saul, who was once a great and might king - also tall, dark, and handsome, according to the scriptures - ends his life as a sniveling coward on the field of a massively failed battle. The usual lesson here is more about David than Saul; after all, most of us just look at the two for contrast. Lately, though, I've felt a lot of sadness about lost potential, and I guess that's why I see Saul's story as one that is so very tragic.
I see a young man, uncomfortable in his own skin, hiding behind bags so that he doesn't get called out. I see a new king desperately insecure, and therefore trying to build himself up by bullying others and pressuring them under his authority. I see a man drivenn by jealousy and arrogance to homicidal craziness. It makes me sad. Mostly because I see a whole lot of Sauls surrounding me in the world.
You don't have to look past Facebook to see it. The trending stories on the right hand side of your screen will weekly have a few old rock stars or movie stars who have ended their lives in a blaze of drugs, alcohol, and wasted potential. There will be tributes to them, of course, lauding early achievements as everyone tries to forget the way it ended. The pictures will focus on a young man or woman, in their prime, before their individual demons did their damage. That fame will inspire another generation to follow down the wrong path, convinced that they are different and the bad stuff just won't happen to them.
You can see it in passive-aggressive posts that have no place on social media. Meanness and armchair judgment blasted from the safety of your phone, tablet, or computer is so much easier than compassion. So that's what most do. The spirit of Saul - the spirit of the insecure bully - can be seen in its shining glory, on display for all to see.
But we cannot forget that Saul isn't a hero. He is not remembered for any accomplishments, only for the meaner parts of his spirit and personality. He is defined by his hatred of those loyal to him, because he never could believe in himself. By the fact that his own son could see just what he was, and therefore he hated him too.
Saul's story breaks my heart, because it is a story of lost potential and failure to understand that humility is the key to success. In a world that is defined by self promotion, it is essential that we remember that Jesus called us to make ourselves servants. Servants wouldn't do promotional videos about how awesome they are. Sauls would.
I wish I could have talked to that young Saul hiding behind all the baggage. I wish I could have told him that he didn't have to compete with anyone because God had anointed him to be king. I wish that I could tell him that he didn't have to maintain his own position by scheming and dominance. He just needed to trust in God. He just needed to obey.
I wish his story had a different end, and I wish the same for every trending story on the side of my Facebook feed.
I Samuel 31
I 4Saul groaned to his armor bearer, “Take your sword and kill me before these pagan Philistines come to run me through and taunt and torture me.”
Friday, April 14, 2017
Changing Seasons...
It's been a long time since I've written anything. And I do mean anything. There was a time when writing was something I felt compelled to do daily, almost like eating. And then somewhere along the way, seasons changed.
My inspirational life with a toddler and an engaging young daughter faded into something that felt a lot more like work. The young daughter became and tween and then a teen, and parenting got "real" in ways not entirely pleasant. I got a graduate degree. Changed jobs. Twice. Found a renewed passion for music expressed in a new way. And then I found love again. Seasons have continued to change.
This current season has been wonderful and also a little challenging. My family is blended and wonderful. I remember the night before our ceremony, I sat in my living room and thought just how much everything was about to change. It has, but it's been easier than I had worried. We are finding a new rhythm, and I'm so grateful for it. I had wonderful years as a single Mom. I'm having even better ones as the Mom in a reconstructed family. I'm blessed with a loving, patient man who is my spiritual leader and teammate. Still pinching myself to believe it's real, but I'm so thankful it is.
At 41, I've realized that my career is probably where it's going to end up. Any big dreams I had on that front have faded. I will be a teacher of lower high school grades, and I have to accept that. I wish I could tell you that was the dream come true I'd always wanted. It isn't. But I can learn to be content. What it does mean is that teaching is no longer the massive, passionate creative outlet it once was. With older kids, parenting really isn't either. The 10 and 15 year old don't want carpet picnics in the living room anymore. (I've shed some tears over that while tearfully looking at other mother's precious babies on Facebook. But seasons change, and mine has...those golden early days have faded. It is well, because it must be.)
So last night, after the supper was cooked and eaten, I left the teenager cleaning the kitchen (there are a few perks to this age 😉) and went outside to talk to Jesus where it was quiet. I didn't really have a coherent prayer, just a thought.... It's not that I'm not thankful, Lord, but I'm at loose ends. I need to create something. I need to feel like something I do matters. And I'm not feeling that so much right now. And He gently reminded me of this long ago blog, where I shared the hardest moments of my life and found something beautiful in the process.
So here I am today. Writing as therapy again. Not sure what it means or where it's going. I'm not sure there's an audience for anything I have to stay in this stage. But it's been my experience as the parent of a teenager that it can be a pretty lonely time for mothers if you aren't in the extroverted, club-Mom group, which this introvert certainly is not. I do know a thing or two about loneliness. So, here I am. For whatever the next season brings, I will do my best to learn the lessons along the road, and to share a little along the way.
My inspirational life with a toddler and an engaging young daughter faded into something that felt a lot more like work. The young daughter became and tween and then a teen, and parenting got "real" in ways not entirely pleasant. I got a graduate degree. Changed jobs. Twice. Found a renewed passion for music expressed in a new way. And then I found love again. Seasons have continued to change.
This current season has been wonderful and also a little challenging. My family is blended and wonderful. I remember the night before our ceremony, I sat in my living room and thought just how much everything was about to change. It has, but it's been easier than I had worried. We are finding a new rhythm, and I'm so grateful for it. I had wonderful years as a single Mom. I'm having even better ones as the Mom in a reconstructed family. I'm blessed with a loving, patient man who is my spiritual leader and teammate. Still pinching myself to believe it's real, but I'm so thankful it is.
At 41, I've realized that my career is probably where it's going to end up. Any big dreams I had on that front have faded. I will be a teacher of lower high school grades, and I have to accept that. I wish I could tell you that was the dream come true I'd always wanted. It isn't. But I can learn to be content. What it does mean is that teaching is no longer the massive, passionate creative outlet it once was. With older kids, parenting really isn't either. The 10 and 15 year old don't want carpet picnics in the living room anymore. (I've shed some tears over that while tearfully looking at other mother's precious babies on Facebook. But seasons change, and mine has...those golden early days have faded. It is well, because it must be.)
So last night, after the supper was cooked and eaten, I left the teenager cleaning the kitchen (there are a few perks to this age 😉) and went outside to talk to Jesus where it was quiet. I didn't really have a coherent prayer, just a thought.... It's not that I'm not thankful, Lord, but I'm at loose ends. I need to create something. I need to feel like something I do matters. And I'm not feeling that so much right now. And He gently reminded me of this long ago blog, where I shared the hardest moments of my life and found something beautiful in the process.
So here I am today. Writing as therapy again. Not sure what it means or where it's going. I'm not sure there's an audience for anything I have to stay in this stage. But it's been my experience as the parent of a teenager that it can be a pretty lonely time for mothers if you aren't in the extroverted, club-Mom group, which this introvert certainly is not. I do know a thing or two about loneliness. So, here I am. For whatever the next season brings, I will do my best to learn the lessons along the road, and to share a little along the way.
Monday, June 23, 2014
They Just Don't Write Songs About Jesus Like They Used To...
Last time, I ranted about my career, this time, it's my other interest: music. On the night before my 39th birthday, I have the following observation...
I hear a lot of people complain about modern church music being repetitive & shallow. The whole "7/11" quote comes to mind.
Having spent several hours photographing, scanning and filing music that is between 20-40 years old, I'm wondering, have these people looked at the old stuff lately? "Classic" music is pretty repetitive too...
I Don't Know What You Came To Do
We've Come to Praise Him
God is Great and Greatly to Be Praised
Let There Be Glory and Honor to Jesus
Won't We Have a Time When We Get Over Yonder
Bind Us Together
Heavenly Father I Appreciate You
Above All Else I Must Be Saved
Learning to Lean on Jesus
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms
I Need Thee, Oh, I Need Thee
Bless The Lord, Oh My Soul
I've Been Delivered
Hold to God's Unchanging Hand
Shouting on the Hills of Glory
Power in the Blood
I get it - we ALL think the music of OUR youth was the best, but really, people...all the songs listed above are awesome. I sang them growing up, and I still love them. But I must be honest...
Most of them have more than half the lyrics in the title. They repeat. A lot. None are particularly complex lyrically. Their composition is a good bit simpler than modern worship music, but frankly, so are the older hymns, most of which were based on classical music, rather than a 1-4-5 pattern.
For those who don't like the current style, God is just as capable of using guitars as He is Hammond organs, which were just as controversial when they entered churches. Yes, we NEED this old stuff, but we don't need to stagnate in it and reach for the revival of 20-40 years ago. And frankly, if we want to get back to the music of the "real" church, I guess we need to take up chanting in minor keys while dancing in circles, as the early church would have done. Instead, we are commanded by God's word through one of His most prolific song-writers to sing something NEW...
Sing unto The Lord a NEW SONG... Psalm 96:1, Psalm 98:1, Psalm 149:1; Isaiah 42:10
Now that I'm so close to joining the old crowd, I can freely express this as someone who is no longer young, and for the record, my Mom Lucy Johnson approves this message. ;)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I hear a lot of people complain about modern church music being repetitive & shallow. The whole "7/11" quote comes to mind.
Having spent several hours photographing, scanning and filing music that is between 20-40 years old, I'm wondering, have these people looked at the old stuff lately? "Classic" music is pretty repetitive too...
I Don't Know What You Came To Do
We've Come to Praise Him
God is Great and Greatly to Be Praised
Let There Be Glory and Honor to Jesus
Won't We Have a Time When We Get Over Yonder
Bind Us Together
Heavenly Father I Appreciate You
Above All Else I Must Be Saved
Learning to Lean on Jesus
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms
I Need Thee, Oh, I Need Thee
Bless The Lord, Oh My Soul
I've Been Delivered
Hold to God's Unchanging Hand
Shouting on the Hills of Glory
Power in the Blood
I get it - we ALL think the music of OUR youth was the best, but really, people...all the songs listed above are awesome. I sang them growing up, and I still love them. But I must be honest...
Most of them have more than half the lyrics in the title. They repeat. A lot. None are particularly complex lyrically. Their composition is a good bit simpler than modern worship music, but frankly, so are the older hymns, most of which were based on classical music, rather than a 1-4-5 pattern.
For those who don't like the current style, God is just as capable of using guitars as He is Hammond organs, which were just as controversial when they entered churches. Yes, we NEED this old stuff, but we don't need to stagnate in it and reach for the revival of 20-40 years ago. And frankly, if we want to get back to the music of the "real" church, I guess we need to take up chanting in minor keys while dancing in circles, as the early church would have done. Instead, we are commanded by God's word through one of His most prolific song-writers to sing something NEW...
Sing unto The Lord a NEW SONG... Psalm 96:1, Psalm 98:1, Psalm 149:1; Isaiah 42:10
Now that I'm so close to joining the old crowd, I can freely express this as someone who is no longer young, and for the record, my Mom Lucy Johnson approves this message. ;)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:E Peace St,Canton,United States
Friday, June 13, 2014
It's Those Stupid Teachers...
You go to a doctor. He says, "Stop smoking. It will kill you." You continue to smoke. You develop cancer. You return to the doctor and say, "How dare you! You failed me!"
You go to a mechanic. He says, "You need to change your oil." You decide that it's too much trouble to do that. Your car dies. You return to the mechanic and yell, "You messed up my car!"
I haven't lost my mind. I know these scenarios don't make sense, but it is EXACTLY the argument being made against teachers in our schools daily on any number of websites.
Earlier this month, a reporter took a picture of a prom program from Paul E. Robeson High School in Chicago which read, "This is ARE story." The jokes and condemnation began, and who was on the receiving end of most of that criticism? Those stupid, lazy, ill-educated, overpaid, irresponsible, incompetent, ridiculous TEACHERS, and their evil UNION too! Of course it's the TEACHERS! Who else could possibly be responsible for Chicago's problems?
I'm not defending that program. The error is ridiculous and egregious. It shouldn't have happened. But. Exactly how are teachers responsible for the condition of urban Chicago? I posed that question in response to an article today and was treated to an inarticulate and insulting response that I'm not allowed to respond to. The poster (who had a cat as his profile picture) took my well-reasoned argument and basically decided that all those failing students should join the army, since I personally had failed them all. Since the army doesn't take drop outs with discipline problems and I teach in Mississippi, not Chicago, I suppose it's better that I don't respond because you can't really fix that sort of reasoning, but that whole altercation has served to stir me up.
I take personal responsibility for my students. Ask any of the students I have taught or their parents. I work VERY hard to help them succeed, and I take every success and failure seriously and personally. There are a LOT of teachers like me out there. We work hard. We love the kids we teach. We believe in what we do. We KNOW we could make more money doing something else - and NO PEOPLE, WE DON'T WORK FROM 8-3 WITH THREE MONTHS OFF IN THE SUMMER.
I also acknowledge that there are BAD teachers. Lazy ones. They aren't the point of this rant, and if there is one in your child's school, there is a sure fire way to get rid of them: become involved. A lazy teacher will resign from a school where there is a strong culture because they can't stay there and be lazy. Easy? Easy.
The point of my rant is as follows: We, the teachers, have been screaming at the tops of our collective lungs that the system is flawed. We have been giving suggestions about improving it. We have begged for education to be FULLY FUNDED in Mississippi. We have pleaded our case concerning the inordinate amount of time spent on those lovely state-mandated tests. We have opined against the constantly changing state of said tests, and the fact that with each new administration, we are pushed to make sure "No Child (IS) Left Behind," as we "Race to the Top" and dig for the "Common Core." We have asked why the geniuses behind every one of these sure fixes have never bothered to teach a class or inhabit a classroom. We have wondered why politicians are making these calls based on their cronies opinions rather than asking the people who are working with the STUDENTS every day. We have warned that our kids need a more definite moral compass, and that the disappearing fabric of family life along with rampant poverty and lack of opportunity in certain communities is strangling our children. And how has the American public responded? You haven't.
Instead, you've argued over charter schools, voucher systems, and the "flavor of the month" quick fix. You've had personal and self-righteous conversations about why you chose public school, private school, or home school, always claiming that the option YOU chose is the best. And for your family, maybe it is! I have taught in public and private school. I have seen excellent home-schooling programs. It's all good, and it should all be working toward the goal of educating America's kids. It shouldn't be the smokescreen that allows the set up of a state-sanctioned class system. But guess what? That's what the constant bickering about voucher/charter/public/private/homeschooling is doing.
There's a simple bottom line: Failing families and parents produce failing kids that go to school. This produces failing schools, which in turn produces failing students, thereby perpetuating the failing community. What I'm describing is a cultural problem, and one that is going to require a cultural paradigm shift. A teacher can't fix it in 45 minutes a day (the average time a classroom teacher sees your kid in a high school.)
So why all the argument? Simply put, the current education debate is rooted in a document entitled "Standing on the Shoulders of Giants." It compares America's schools to those in Europe and Asia and finds our schools sorely lacking. It sets out some things that we need to do to compete with those regions, some of which have already been enacted, with ever more being enforced each year.
The fallacy of that (horribly written) document is that it is comparing apples (America's education system) with oranges (Europe/Asia). The "model education systems" it touts sort students into ability groups by the 2nd and 3rd grade. That's great for test results, but it isn't great for kids. It means that you decide who is going to be a doctor or engineer or mechanic or waitress by the time a kid is 10, and if your kid is a late bloomer? Sorry, it's blue collar for her.
Are you catching on yet? We are modeling after countries - trying to compete with countries - that have a rather static class system in place. Are you scared yet? You should be. It is counter to everything that America is founded upon. So why the massive buy-in? A little leg work will help you figure that out (who stands to gain from that class system), and I don't want to veer too far off point. So, back to the title...
This is not a teacher problem. It isn't even a school problem. It is a societal/cultural problem. PEOPLE! It isn't the teacher's responsibility to educate your kids. It's YOURS! It IS the teacher/government's responsibility to make an education available. It is YOUR responsibility to make sure that your kid avails himself/herself of that opportunity. It is YOUR responsibility to get involved and help your kid by making sure the cell phone is not in use at 2:30 am the night before the big test. (If they have a phone and you don't take it at night, they are probably on it at all hours of the night.)
My rant will end this way. My students and their parents know how I feel about my work. They know what I do to help them succeed. I'm not trying to defend myself here, because I don't feel the need. I am TERRIFIED that such an important issue has been dumbed down to the fault of the "stupid teachers" instead of placing the blame where it belongs: with each and every citizen who sees the problem and does nothing but defend their own political agenda. If you want to complain about a teacher, ask yourself first, "What have I done to make this different?" If you haven't done as much as you've griped, change that and you will change the world.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
You go to a mechanic. He says, "You need to change your oil." You decide that it's too much trouble to do that. Your car dies. You return to the mechanic and yell, "You messed up my car!"
I haven't lost my mind. I know these scenarios don't make sense, but it is EXACTLY the argument being made against teachers in our schools daily on any number of websites.
Earlier this month, a reporter took a picture of a prom program from Paul E. Robeson High School in Chicago which read, "This is ARE story." The jokes and condemnation began, and who was on the receiving end of most of that criticism? Those stupid, lazy, ill-educated, overpaid, irresponsible, incompetent, ridiculous TEACHERS, and their evil UNION too! Of course it's the TEACHERS! Who else could possibly be responsible for Chicago's problems?
I'm not defending that program. The error is ridiculous and egregious. It shouldn't have happened. But. Exactly how are teachers responsible for the condition of urban Chicago? I posed that question in response to an article today and was treated to an inarticulate and insulting response that I'm not allowed to respond to. The poster (who had a cat as his profile picture) took my well-reasoned argument and basically decided that all those failing students should join the army, since I personally had failed them all. Since the army doesn't take drop outs with discipline problems and I teach in Mississippi, not Chicago, I suppose it's better that I don't respond because you can't really fix that sort of reasoning, but that whole altercation has served to stir me up.
I take personal responsibility for my students. Ask any of the students I have taught or their parents. I work VERY hard to help them succeed, and I take every success and failure seriously and personally. There are a LOT of teachers like me out there. We work hard. We love the kids we teach. We believe in what we do. We KNOW we could make more money doing something else - and NO PEOPLE, WE DON'T WORK FROM 8-3 WITH THREE MONTHS OFF IN THE SUMMER.
I also acknowledge that there are BAD teachers. Lazy ones. They aren't the point of this rant, and if there is one in your child's school, there is a sure fire way to get rid of them: become involved. A lazy teacher will resign from a school where there is a strong culture because they can't stay there and be lazy. Easy? Easy.
The point of my rant is as follows: We, the teachers, have been screaming at the tops of our collective lungs that the system is flawed. We have been giving suggestions about improving it. We have begged for education to be FULLY FUNDED in Mississippi. We have pleaded our case concerning the inordinate amount of time spent on those lovely state-mandated tests. We have opined against the constantly changing state of said tests, and the fact that with each new administration, we are pushed to make sure "No Child (IS) Left Behind," as we "Race to the Top" and dig for the "Common Core." We have asked why the geniuses behind every one of these sure fixes have never bothered to teach a class or inhabit a classroom. We have wondered why politicians are making these calls based on their cronies opinions rather than asking the people who are working with the STUDENTS every day. We have warned that our kids need a more definite moral compass, and that the disappearing fabric of family life along with rampant poverty and lack of opportunity in certain communities is strangling our children. And how has the American public responded? You haven't.
Instead, you've argued over charter schools, voucher systems, and the "flavor of the month" quick fix. You've had personal and self-righteous conversations about why you chose public school, private school, or home school, always claiming that the option YOU chose is the best. And for your family, maybe it is! I have taught in public and private school. I have seen excellent home-schooling programs. It's all good, and it should all be working toward the goal of educating America's kids. It shouldn't be the smokescreen that allows the set up of a state-sanctioned class system. But guess what? That's what the constant bickering about voucher/charter/public/private/homeschooling is doing.
There's a simple bottom line: Failing families and parents produce failing kids that go to school. This produces failing schools, which in turn produces failing students, thereby perpetuating the failing community. What I'm describing is a cultural problem, and one that is going to require a cultural paradigm shift. A teacher can't fix it in 45 minutes a day (the average time a classroom teacher sees your kid in a high school.)
So why all the argument? Simply put, the current education debate is rooted in a document entitled "Standing on the Shoulders of Giants." It compares America's schools to those in Europe and Asia and finds our schools sorely lacking. It sets out some things that we need to do to compete with those regions, some of which have already been enacted, with ever more being enforced each year.
The fallacy of that (horribly written) document is that it is comparing apples (America's education system) with oranges (Europe/Asia). The "model education systems" it touts sort students into ability groups by the 2nd and 3rd grade. That's great for test results, but it isn't great for kids. It means that you decide who is going to be a doctor or engineer or mechanic or waitress by the time a kid is 10, and if your kid is a late bloomer? Sorry, it's blue collar for her.
Are you catching on yet? We are modeling after countries - trying to compete with countries - that have a rather static class system in place. Are you scared yet? You should be. It is counter to everything that America is founded upon. So why the massive buy-in? A little leg work will help you figure that out (who stands to gain from that class system), and I don't want to veer too far off point. So, back to the title...
This is not a teacher problem. It isn't even a school problem. It is a societal/cultural problem. PEOPLE! It isn't the teacher's responsibility to educate your kids. It's YOURS! It IS the teacher/government's responsibility to make an education available. It is YOUR responsibility to make sure that your kid avails himself/herself of that opportunity. It is YOUR responsibility to get involved and help your kid by making sure the cell phone is not in use at 2:30 am the night before the big test. (If they have a phone and you don't take it at night, they are probably on it at all hours of the night.)
My rant will end this way. My students and their parents know how I feel about my work. They know what I do to help them succeed. I'm not trying to defend myself here, because I don't feel the need. I am TERRIFIED that such an important issue has been dumbed down to the fault of the "stupid teachers" instead of placing the blame where it belongs: with each and every citizen who sees the problem and does nothing but defend their own political agenda. If you want to complain about a teacher, ask yourself first, "What have I done to make this different?" If you haven't done as much as you've griped, change that and you will change the world.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Of Books and Shelves...
It's summer, and that means that for a few beautiful months, I can focus on my home and my family almost exclusively, instead of the juggling act that so often occurs during the school year. As part of that process, I'm getting rid of "stuff" that we don't use and revamping several areas of the house. During a recent journey into the disaster zone, a.k.a my 12 year old's room, I discovered that she was in need of a new bookshelf. Of course, I turned to Craigslist, found a deal, and made arrangements to go pick it up.
And then, a crisis. They sold my shelf to a buyer who had an available pick up truck - it wouldn't fit in my Honda!
So, I took a look around my house and discovered that I had an old, tired shelf with a bad coat of white paint. I could fix that up for Noelle, right? Right.
I ran (not really) to google and researched various furniture painting techniques. I loved the "chalk paint" idea, until I saw the price. $35 for a quart of paint? No. Period. Way. So, I researched alternatives and decided to wing it.
A combination of Valspar paint and primer along with some Lowe's sample paint jars (I LOVE THESE and have just found the newest source for my canvas paint, despite the fast dry time) and some SC Johnson's paste wax are working magic on that book shelf. So far, it's gone from this:
(Noelle is expressing her dismay that I might put THIS in her room)
To this:
More photos coming once that waxing is finished.
I've also found that this massive, useless room on the other end of my house with its own A/C unit makes a pretty amazing workshop, and that I might really like doing this kind of thing...
So, in this golden summer, I'm learning new things about furniture, and about me. Fall will bring a new job, new responsibilities, and perhaps another new chapter of my life that I'm not quite ready to wrap my mind around yet. For now, I'm just enjoying the journey, and the paint! :) 'Til the wax is cured!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
And then, a crisis. They sold my shelf to a buyer who had an available pick up truck - it wouldn't fit in my Honda!
So, I took a look around my house and discovered that I had an old, tired shelf with a bad coat of white paint. I could fix that up for Noelle, right? Right.
I ran (not really) to google and researched various furniture painting techniques. I loved the "chalk paint" idea, until I saw the price. $35 for a quart of paint? No. Period. Way. So, I researched alternatives and decided to wing it.
A combination of Valspar paint and primer along with some Lowe's sample paint jars (I LOVE THESE and have just found the newest source for my canvas paint, despite the fast dry time) and some SC Johnson's paste wax are working magic on that book shelf. So far, it's gone from this:
(Noelle is expressing her dismay that I might put THIS in her room)
To this:
More photos coming once that waxing is finished.
I've also found that this massive, useless room on the other end of my house with its own A/C unit makes a pretty amazing workshop, and that I might really like doing this kind of thing...
So, in this golden summer, I'm learning new things about furniture, and about me. Fall will bring a new job, new responsibilities, and perhaps another new chapter of my life that I'm not quite ready to wrap my mind around yet. For now, I'm just enjoying the journey, and the paint! :) 'Til the wax is cured!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Angry Prayers & Delayed Promises
Psalm 94:12-13 - Blessed is the man whom You chasten, O Lord, & teach him out of Your law; that You may give him rest from the days of adversity, until the pit be digged for the wicked.
I've been working on some Bible study notes this morning, and in that way that God sometimes works, He has been speaking to me too.
I've had a sort of tough week, with lots of angry conversations directed at God. (Judge me if you want. It works for Him, apparently. I'm still here.) So, for anyone who reads this blog, the question will arise: Just what are you so angry about?
Here it is:
I'm a little worn out with being tested.
I'm seriously worn out with being lonely.
I'm exhausted from watching people who have hurt me prosper while I'm still struggling.
I'm physically sick of WAITING.
I'm suicidal wondering if ANYTHING, EVER is going to CHANGE? FOR ME? For the BETTER?
(For those who take me too seriously, no you don't need to contact a therapist. I'm not in danger of taking my own life, but I'm not too proud to admit that I've wished for death a time or two. I'm in good company with some others in scripture: Moses, Joshua, Elijah, David, Job, and the list goes on...)
Occasionally, I'll get a well-meaning friend who sends me a message wanting me to be positive and worried that I might be depressed. He or she just wants me to count my blessings and focus on the positive, and there is much merit in what is said. I take it in and appreciate it, every time.
But they aren't living my life.
They haven't lived my last 20 years. My guess is that it's been a while since they've spent a few days without speaking to another person. I have that reality every few weekends. It's isolating, and while I've had some profound promises from God, I can't see them yet. Several years ago, I reached the place where I decided they weren't even real promises. I decided to lower my expectations and just live with what I had expecting it never to get any better.
Over the past few months, God has been challenging that viewpoint. I decided to believe things WOULD get better, and I started looking for signs and saw a few. And then came this week...and those angry conversations. :)
Now, if I were a better blogger, I would be writing this after the answer comes and it would be a tale of triumph. Alas, I'm not a better blogger. I'm me, and my long-awaited happy ending still ain't here... but I can say a thing or two about what I know.
I know that I have grown this week - He has been teaching me through the chastening. God has once again reminded me that my faith needs to rest in Him, not in what I see. He has reminded me that I don't need to be afraid to ask for what I want. He has reminded me that I am His child, and that there will come an appointed time for it all to "get better." He has reminded me that trust is important, and that what I am experiencing right now is all part of His plan to make me into someone who reflects His light.
In the meantime, I'm learning to live today without concentrating (i.e., worrying) too much on tomorrow. Those of you who know me know that this is pretty much killing me...but maybe dying out to self is something I need to do anyway.
'Til the answer comes... :)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I've been working on some Bible study notes this morning, and in that way that God sometimes works, He has been speaking to me too.
I've had a sort of tough week, with lots of angry conversations directed at God. (Judge me if you want. It works for Him, apparently. I'm still here.) So, for anyone who reads this blog, the question will arise: Just what are you so angry about?
Here it is:
I'm a little worn out with being tested.
I'm seriously worn out with being lonely.
I'm exhausted from watching people who have hurt me prosper while I'm still struggling.
I'm physically sick of WAITING.
I'm suicidal wondering if ANYTHING, EVER is going to CHANGE? FOR ME? For the BETTER?
(For those who take me too seriously, no you don't need to contact a therapist. I'm not in danger of taking my own life, but I'm not too proud to admit that I've wished for death a time or two. I'm in good company with some others in scripture: Moses, Joshua, Elijah, David, Job, and the list goes on...)
Occasionally, I'll get a well-meaning friend who sends me a message wanting me to be positive and worried that I might be depressed. He or she just wants me to count my blessings and focus on the positive, and there is much merit in what is said. I take it in and appreciate it, every time.
But they aren't living my life.
They haven't lived my last 20 years. My guess is that it's been a while since they've spent a few days without speaking to another person. I have that reality every few weekends. It's isolating, and while I've had some profound promises from God, I can't see them yet. Several years ago, I reached the place where I decided they weren't even real promises. I decided to lower my expectations and just live with what I had expecting it never to get any better.
Over the past few months, God has been challenging that viewpoint. I decided to believe things WOULD get better, and I started looking for signs and saw a few. And then came this week...and those angry conversations. :)
Now, if I were a better blogger, I would be writing this after the answer comes and it would be a tale of triumph. Alas, I'm not a better blogger. I'm me, and my long-awaited happy ending still ain't here... but I can say a thing or two about what I know.
I know that I have grown this week - He has been teaching me through the chastening. God has once again reminded me that my faith needs to rest in Him, not in what I see. He has reminded me that I don't need to be afraid to ask for what I want. He has reminded me that I am His child, and that there will come an appointed time for it all to "get better." He has reminded me that trust is important, and that what I am experiencing right now is all part of His plan to make me into someone who reflects His light.
In the meantime, I'm learning to live today without concentrating (i.e., worrying) too much on tomorrow. Those of you who know me know that this is pretty much killing me...but maybe dying out to self is something I need to do anyway.
'Til the answer comes... :)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
The Audacity of Hope
Earlier today, I had a conversation with a dear friend, & she asked me a thought-provoking question: "What is it that you want the Lord to do in your life?"
My first response felt honest ("I don't really know, just His will."), but the true answer cut pretty deep...I was afraid to tell the Lord what I wanted, because I was terrified that He wouldn't answer, or that He would say "no." There have been so many disappointments that hope feels like a luxury somebody like me just can't afford.
But tonight, I have placed the desires of my heart & my soul before the Lord. Noelle, David, & I prayed about what we want God to do for us as a family, & I asked my children to pray with me about His will for our lives & the future I would like to see us have. It is the most terrifying & liberating thing I have done in years - to be so completely exposed in vulnerability - to admit that as much as I DO want His will above all else - I also want some specific things in this life that I've never had. To trust that God won't say "no" without walking me through it...
For so many years, I have lived with "just enough" - with the manna, meal, & oil of His daily provision. But the end of that season is coming, & by faith I will live out His promises in Deuteronomy 28:1-14 & Jeremiah 29:11. This is my year of abundance & the "expected end" of a very long drought is overtaking me - EVEN NOW when I cannot see it - in Jesus name.
Deuteronomy 28:2 And all these blessings shall come on their, & overtake thee, if thou shalt hearken to the voice of the Lord thy God.
#listening #believing #daringtohop
My first response felt honest ("I don't really know, just His will."), but the true answer cut pretty deep...I was afraid to tell the Lord what I wanted, because I was terrified that He wouldn't answer, or that He would say "no." There have been so many disappointments that hope feels like a luxury somebody like me just can't afford.
But tonight, I have placed the desires of my heart & my soul before the Lord. Noelle, David, & I prayed about what we want God to do for us as a family, & I asked my children to pray with me about His will for our lives & the future I would like to see us have. It is the most terrifying & liberating thing I have done in years - to be so completely exposed in vulnerability - to admit that as much as I DO want His will above all else - I also want some specific things in this life that I've never had. To trust that God won't say "no" without walking me through it...
For so many years, I have lived with "just enough" - with the manna, meal, & oil of His daily provision. But the end of that season is coming, & by faith I will live out His promises in Deuteronomy 28:1-14 & Jeremiah 29:11. This is my year of abundance & the "expected end" of a very long drought is overtaking me - EVEN NOW when I cannot see it - in Jesus name.
Deuteronomy 28:2 And all these blessings shall come on their, & overtake thee, if thou shalt hearken to the voice of the Lord thy God.
#listening #believing #daringtohop
Monday, September 30, 2013
The Space Between Healing and Being Made Whole
Recently, I was asked by a good friend to come and speak at a singles' conference. There were so many positive and uplifting things I WANTED to say, but as the conference approached, the message that I felt impressed to give was intensely personal and painful. I'm sharing it here, and I can honestly say it is the hardest thing that I have ever written...it also contains the most truth. This time, as is so often the case, those two things go hand and hand.
As someone who has not lived an easy life, I've always found great comfort in stories - there is something comforting about knowing that I can have an expected ending in a relatively short period of time. And so very often, when my life is at loose ends and I can't see answers, I find the answers I seek in Bible stories. In January 2010, I faced a dark period of testing - one that put a mirror up to my very soul and revealed a deep brokenness I had not known was there. So, to the Bible I went...
For the first time, I began to notice something about the stories of healing I had heard since I was a child listening to my Mamaw Warrell read them to me. From that very early time, I had known that Jesus was a healer, but I had never noticed how different those healing experiences were for the individuals between the pages of scripture. First, I went to Matthew 8:3-4 and Jesus healing a leper - a leper who walked right up to Jesus and said, "If you will, you can make me clean." Jesus replies, "I will, be clean." BAM! The leper is healed. That triggered the old Sunday school memory of the ten lepers, so I flipped over to Luke 17:11-19, and there they were. Ten lepers healed, but then there was that one leper...the one that came back and gave thanks. That one leper, he was MADE WHOLE.
There it was, the little detail that had been nagging at the back of mind. Why were some lepers healed, and that one leper MADE WHOLE? I seemed to remember my Sunday school teacher talking about the one leper "giving thanks," but my leper in Matthew 8 was thankful, and he didn't get made whole. One thing I knew: I wanted to be whole. Not just HEALED. WHOLE.
So, I went looking for answers. How did the people who were MADE WHOLE get that way? Where was the answer? I traced them across the life of Christ. In Matthew 14:36, anyone who touched the hem of Christ's garment was made whole. In Matthew 15:28, the woman who asked Jesus for the crumbs He would give to a dog received wholeness for her child, and in Luke 8, both the woman with the issue of blood (touching that garment again) and Jairus' daughter become whole.
By this time, I was asking The Lord where I could purchase the hem of His garment. I had been "thankful." I had engaged in "praise." I was busy with "church" and "church activities." None of those held the key. So where was it?
Clearly, in reading the stories, one thing stood out. Jesus told each recipient of wholeness, "Your faith has made you whole." But I couldn't wrap my mind around that either. That first leper? He had faith! He told Jesus that he KNEW that a touch would heal him! So, it had to be a specific KIND of faith that led to being whole. In prayer, I wrestled with God, asking Him where I would find the answer.
See, by this time, I had figured out that there is a space most of us never think about: the space between healing and being made whole. Healing is an act of Christ alone. It is sovereign, and He doesn't need US to make that happen. He can heal of His own power and His own might. We don't even need to have faith for that to happen. But being whole? That doesn't happen at the moment of healing. It happens when the power of Christ is mixed with a specific kind of faith -the faith of ACTION: the faith that DOES SOMETHING. THAT'S what those who were made whole had in common! They DID SOMETHING! For the woman with the issue of blood, she touched his garment; for the one-out-of-ten leper, he returned to give thanks; for the Canaanite woman, it was witty repartee mixed when a good dose of gumption, for Jairus, it was going out to find a man called Christ when hope seemed lost...
Then I went back to the drawing board. I felt like I had plenty of "action." I was teaching Sunday School, in the music department, videoing services, working with the youth...I was involved in so much "church" stuff that I met myself coming and going at the church doors. So, what was I missing? I didn't understand yet, but I would. All my movement wasn't action. It was just movement.
It was during this time that I found the 58th chapter of Isaiah, and I discovered the key to being made whole.
Isaiah 58:6-7 - Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him? that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh?
That was a selfless sort of action I wasn't entirely familiar with. The 10th verse clarified it even more:
Isaiah 58:10 - And if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul...
And there it was - the secret to being made whole. To become whole, you must first be empty, but not just any kind of empty. You must pour yourself out to those who need it most - those that no one else is willing to touch.
I had an image of what I had been doing for years: filling my vessel and then "pouring it out" right back into the church building...where the people needed it the least. And all the while, there was a lost and hungry world outside that was DESPERATE for the flowing water of the spirit. And I was too busy pouring myself into GOOD things, but not the things that would truly and completely empty me out - empty me of my past, my pain, my problems - and allow Him to fill me anew.
As I continued to read Isaiah 58, the principle became so very clear. The space between healing and being made whole can only be filled with one thing: emptying yourself out to those in need: POURING OUT, so that that God can fill you again...making you whole. The rest of the 10th verse reads:
Isaiah 58:10- ...then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as noonday.
58:11 And The Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not.
58:12 And they that shall be of thee shall build the old waste places: thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations; and thou shalt be called, "The repairer of the breach, the restorer of paths to dwell in..."
The power of being made WHOLE is in finding an identity beyond your brokenness. It is not something Christ can do for you. It is process He participates in, but you are the key. When you take your pain and pour it out - pour it out on the needy and oppressed - then, He can make you whole. And you can plant the seeds that will become those who will build up the wastelands of our world, those that repair the breaches in a world that has become so divided that people who have not known great pain cannot span the gaps.
There is power in brokenness - the power to be made whole. Pour out, pour out, pour out...and allow Him to make you whole...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
As someone who has not lived an easy life, I've always found great comfort in stories - there is something comforting about knowing that I can have an expected ending in a relatively short period of time. And so very often, when my life is at loose ends and I can't see answers, I find the answers I seek in Bible stories. In January 2010, I faced a dark period of testing - one that put a mirror up to my very soul and revealed a deep brokenness I had not known was there. So, to the Bible I went...
For the first time, I began to notice something about the stories of healing I had heard since I was a child listening to my Mamaw Warrell read them to me. From that very early time, I had known that Jesus was a healer, but I had never noticed how different those healing experiences were for the individuals between the pages of scripture. First, I went to Matthew 8:3-4 and Jesus healing a leper - a leper who walked right up to Jesus and said, "If you will, you can make me clean." Jesus replies, "I will, be clean." BAM! The leper is healed. That triggered the old Sunday school memory of the ten lepers, so I flipped over to Luke 17:11-19, and there they were. Ten lepers healed, but then there was that one leper...the one that came back and gave thanks. That one leper, he was MADE WHOLE.
There it was, the little detail that had been nagging at the back of mind. Why were some lepers healed, and that one leper MADE WHOLE? I seemed to remember my Sunday school teacher talking about the one leper "giving thanks," but my leper in Matthew 8 was thankful, and he didn't get made whole. One thing I knew: I wanted to be whole. Not just HEALED. WHOLE.
So, I went looking for answers. How did the people who were MADE WHOLE get that way? Where was the answer? I traced them across the life of Christ. In Matthew 14:36, anyone who touched the hem of Christ's garment was made whole. In Matthew 15:28, the woman who asked Jesus for the crumbs He would give to a dog received wholeness for her child, and in Luke 8, both the woman with the issue of blood (touching that garment again) and Jairus' daughter become whole.
By this time, I was asking The Lord where I could purchase the hem of His garment. I had been "thankful." I had engaged in "praise." I was busy with "church" and "church activities." None of those held the key. So where was it?
Clearly, in reading the stories, one thing stood out. Jesus told each recipient of wholeness, "Your faith has made you whole." But I couldn't wrap my mind around that either. That first leper? He had faith! He told Jesus that he KNEW that a touch would heal him! So, it had to be a specific KIND of faith that led to being whole. In prayer, I wrestled with God, asking Him where I would find the answer.
See, by this time, I had figured out that there is a space most of us never think about: the space between healing and being made whole. Healing is an act of Christ alone. It is sovereign, and He doesn't need US to make that happen. He can heal of His own power and His own might. We don't even need to have faith for that to happen. But being whole? That doesn't happen at the moment of healing. It happens when the power of Christ is mixed with a specific kind of faith -the faith of ACTION: the faith that DOES SOMETHING. THAT'S what those who were made whole had in common! They DID SOMETHING! For the woman with the issue of blood, she touched his garment; for the one-out-of-ten leper, he returned to give thanks; for the Canaanite woman, it was witty repartee mixed when a good dose of gumption, for Jairus, it was going out to find a man called Christ when hope seemed lost...
Then I went back to the drawing board. I felt like I had plenty of "action." I was teaching Sunday School, in the music department, videoing services, working with the youth...I was involved in so much "church" stuff that I met myself coming and going at the church doors. So, what was I missing? I didn't understand yet, but I would. All my movement wasn't action. It was just movement.
It was during this time that I found the 58th chapter of Isaiah, and I discovered the key to being made whole.
Isaiah 58:6-7 - Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him? that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh?
That was a selfless sort of action I wasn't entirely familiar with. The 10th verse clarified it even more:
Isaiah 58:10 - And if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul...
And there it was - the secret to being made whole. To become whole, you must first be empty, but not just any kind of empty. You must pour yourself out to those who need it most - those that no one else is willing to touch.
I had an image of what I had been doing for years: filling my vessel and then "pouring it out" right back into the church building...where the people needed it the least. And all the while, there was a lost and hungry world outside that was DESPERATE for the flowing water of the spirit. And I was too busy pouring myself into GOOD things, but not the things that would truly and completely empty me out - empty me of my past, my pain, my problems - and allow Him to fill me anew.
As I continued to read Isaiah 58, the principle became so very clear. The space between healing and being made whole can only be filled with one thing: emptying yourself out to those in need: POURING OUT, so that that God can fill you again...making you whole. The rest of the 10th verse reads:
Isaiah 58:10- ...then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as noonday.
58:11 And The Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not.
58:12 And they that shall be of thee shall build the old waste places: thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations; and thou shalt be called, "The repairer of the breach, the restorer of paths to dwell in..."
The power of being made WHOLE is in finding an identity beyond your brokenness. It is not something Christ can do for you. It is process He participates in, but you are the key. When you take your pain and pour it out - pour it out on the needy and oppressed - then, He can make you whole. And you can plant the seeds that will become those who will build up the wastelands of our world, those that repair the breaches in a world that has become so divided that people who have not known great pain cannot span the gaps.
There is power in brokenness - the power to be made whole. Pour out, pour out, pour out...and allow Him to make you whole...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...
It's funny how life works. When we are teenagers, we simply cannot WAIT for the next big change. We constantly want everything to be DIFFERENT and NEW. We crave it. We long for it. New...different...exciting...even a little dangerous...
As a former teenager (though one who has been in recovery for 20 years), I remember those feelings vividly. I was as thrill-seeking and ready for the next big thing as the next person - maybe even a little more. But there are some days, I look in the mirror, and I have to wonder this: What happened?
The thrill-seeking daredevil that loved drag racing, rock climbing, drifting down a river full of white water on an inner-tube, and jumping before I counted the cost has been replaced with...fear. Fear of change. Fear of trouble. Fear of - and this is the big one - risking the "okay" that is for the "what if" that might be...
What happened? Well, it's really not that complicated. I became an adult and developed the need to control things, to make things easier, better, and most of all - reflective of MY desires! How can I demonstrate my competency as an adult if I can't control my own life - every aspect of it, in fact? Well, friends, that is where the ultimate fallacy lies. I can't. And the very idea that I could is arrogant in the extreme. And once a supremely logical mind has been faced by a fact like that one, there is only one thing left to do: HOLD ON TO WHAT YOU HAVE AT ALL COSTS!
And so goes the transformation from daredevil risk-taker to timid scaredy-cat. Since I can't control the changes of the future, I will try to keep things from changing. Some people will tell you that never works, but I would contend that it often can...at a high cost. You will maintain, but you will forfeit your future.
Now, at this point, if I were a superior blogger, I would have THE ANSWER TO ALL THIS. I'm not a superior blogger. :) I can only offer this:
Isaiah 42:9 Behold, the former things are come to pass, and new things do I declare; before they spring forth I tell you of them.
He tells us, in His way, in His time. I want a "play-by-play" action plan. He says, "Trust me." I want an instruction manual. He says, "Seek my face." I want it NOW. He says, "Wait." I say, "Why?" He says, "Because it will make you who you are destined to become."
I have a good friend who keeps telling me I just need to learn to watch things unfold. I keep telling my friend I'm no good at that. God keeps telling me, "You'll learn...
Taking this journey one day at a time.....In Christ....
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:Canton, Mississippi
Saturday, July 20, 2013
I Am the Planting of The Lord
Isaiah 61:3-4 To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of The Lord, that He might be glorified. And they shall build the old wastes, they shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste cities, the desolations of many generations.
I haven't exactly had an easy life, and this hasn't exactly been an easy year. When I wrote an entry at the end of last May entitled, "The Night Before Everything Changes," I had no idea just how prophetic that utterance would become. Almost everything I took for granted has changed over the course of the last eighteen months, and that was on the heels of a decade that had also brought cataclysms of changes in my life. So, I'm familiar with change, I'm familiar with pain, I'm familiar with disappointment, and I'm familiar with the way it feels to wake up one morning and realize that you just have to make the best of things and start moving forward. :)
Which brings me to why I love this verse so much. Every once in a while - if you are a true student of the scripture - you will find yourself peeking out from the pages in the most unusual places, and this morning, as I read, I found myself again. There I am, in the dead center of this passage of Isaiah. I may never be a Deborah, or an Esther, an Abigail, or a Ruth...but I AM the planting of The Lord.
Why, exactly, does Alesha Leveritt deserve that distinction? Allow me to explain...I know ashes, I know mourning, and I know heaviness. I know them better than I would ever have chosen. In fairness, I should be depressed, or at the very least bitter and angry. And allow me to confess something - if it were all about ME, I would be all those things. I'm not superhuman, and I have every tendency toward human weakness. I'm probably weaker than most. But above and beyond who I am...HE IS. And Christ within me has taken the ashes and made something beautiful. He has taken the mourning and given me joy. He has taken the heaviness and made me glad.
I am the planting of The Lord because every time I smile when I have the right to weep...every time I refuse to give up and post some ridiculous painful rant for all the world to read...every time I wake up and just keep moving forward...EVERY TIME, I am a living testament to His righteousness, His power to restore, His power to heal, and His ever present help. For every moment I have not fallen apart...HE IS, and because He is, I continue to stand, and I will work out His commission...I will work to rebuild the waste places and repair the desolations of the former generations, because that is what He has called me, the planting of The Lord, to do...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I haven't exactly had an easy life, and this hasn't exactly been an easy year. When I wrote an entry at the end of last May entitled, "The Night Before Everything Changes," I had no idea just how prophetic that utterance would become. Almost everything I took for granted has changed over the course of the last eighteen months, and that was on the heels of a decade that had also brought cataclysms of changes in my life. So, I'm familiar with change, I'm familiar with pain, I'm familiar with disappointment, and I'm familiar with the way it feels to wake up one morning and realize that you just have to make the best of things and start moving forward. :)
Which brings me to why I love this verse so much. Every once in a while - if you are a true student of the scripture - you will find yourself peeking out from the pages in the most unusual places, and this morning, as I read, I found myself again. There I am, in the dead center of this passage of Isaiah. I may never be a Deborah, or an Esther, an Abigail, or a Ruth...but I AM the planting of The Lord.
Why, exactly, does Alesha Leveritt deserve that distinction? Allow me to explain...I know ashes, I know mourning, and I know heaviness. I know them better than I would ever have chosen. In fairness, I should be depressed, or at the very least bitter and angry. And allow me to confess something - if it were all about ME, I would be all those things. I'm not superhuman, and I have every tendency toward human weakness. I'm probably weaker than most. But above and beyond who I am...HE IS. And Christ within me has taken the ashes and made something beautiful. He has taken the mourning and given me joy. He has taken the heaviness and made me glad.
I am the planting of The Lord because every time I smile when I have the right to weep...every time I refuse to give up and post some ridiculous painful rant for all the world to read...every time I wake up and just keep moving forward...EVERY TIME, I am a living testament to His righteousness, His power to restore, His power to heal, and His ever present help. For every moment I have not fallen apart...HE IS, and because He is, I continue to stand, and I will work out His commission...I will work to rebuild the waste places and repair the desolations of the former generations, because that is what He has called me, the planting of The Lord, to do...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Peppermint Parables: A Tribute to Bishop Jerry & Sis. Sandra Dillon
Today on my way out of morning service, I
watched my pastor Jerry Dillon speaking to two young boys, probably around
11-12. They shook his hand, answered his
questions, and looked at him expectantly.
And then he did what they were expecting…he winked and said, “I’ll go
unlock my office in just a minute. Lots
of good stuff waiting in there.” The
expression on their faces changed. One
young man jumped in the air, while the other executed a pitch-perfect fist-pump
and said, “YES!”
It’s just peppermints and jelly
beans – not something that boys would normally get that excited about. I should know. I’ve been the recipient of a peppermint every
time I have seen Bro. Dillon during the past 35 years. Camp meeting, conferences, Sunday evening
services, random encounters at a restaurant, at a friend’s wedding…it doesn’t
matter. Whenever he gives me a hug and
reaches out to shake my hand, it isn’t really a handshake; it’s a sacred rite:
the passage of the peppermint. Understand, though, that it is about MUCH more
than peppermints.
There is a lesson I learned from the
age of 2 – a lesson that those boys are learning as well – about love,
consistency, and the heart in tune with that of Christ. When I was a toddler, I KNEW there was a
peppermint waiting in his office. When I
was a teenager, I KNEW that answers to my (MANY) questions were waiting in that
office, along with my peppermint. When I
was a twenty-one year old woman grieving the loss of her father, I KNEW that
compassion was waiting, keeping my peppermint company. When I was at the end of my rope and had no
idea what move should come next, I KNEW that wisdom was waiting, and a
peppermint too.
Those little boys are learning. So are my children. Bishop Jerry Dillon uses those peppermints as
beacons, and they send out a message to every person he has ever encountered: You will never get beyond God’s love…or mine
and Sis. Dillon’s. You will never be
without a home…you are welcome here, no matter what. My door is ALWAYS open, and wisdom is
waiting, along with a peppermint. YOU matter to me. YOU are important. YOU are worth my time.
I love you, Bro. and Sis. Dillon, and I
owe you more than I can every repay.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
What I See When You (Don't) Say "Mississippi"
What I See When You (Don’t) Say “Mississippi”
So, now we are the “landmass”?
Perhaps you should use your eyes as much as your voice…
Perhaps you should use your eyes as much as your voice…
You say we are ignorant.
I see a people who have produced the most profound literary voices of
the past century.Where’s your Faulkner?
You say we are mired in poverty.
I see a people who are poor, but they still manage to give more to
charity than most other states.How’s your record?
You say we are lazy.
I see a people who have worked together to rebuild after Katrina’s
devastation.Where were you?
You say we are backward.
I see a people who embody what it means to move forward.Which direction are you going?
You say we are a hotbed of racism and hate.
I see a people who have spent the past generations rising up, changing
what was to what can be.No, we haven’t arrived, but I can’t help but wonder…
Have you?
I see Mississippi, and I stand proud.
Who are you?
Friday, July 27, 2012
No Bluffing...
See those faces? The unhappiness is pretty clear...if they were voting for "Mother of the Moment," I wouldn't even be a nominee. While I've occasionally been accused of describing my life as a parent in colors too-glowing for reality, this picture makes it pretty apparent that every day living in our family is not ALWAYS grins and giggles.
Now the question you REALLY want answered: why are they so unhappy? Well, like all children, mine like to climb things. They wanted to climb that rock, and they wanted to "balance beam" across the stone fence behind it. In honesty, I thought about doing the same thing. It looked like fun! The rock wasn't that high, but it provided a better view, and the stone wall was calling my name - a perfect place to pretend to be an Olympian on a balance beam. But...Mom was a kill-joy. NO climbing. NO balancing. NO fun. Mean, mean Mom.
Next question: WHY won't mean, mean Mom let those precious babies climb? Well, it was the little matter of the 30 foot bluff on the other side of that wall, and the sharp, pointy rocks at the moment.
And THAT, my friends, is the parenting lesson of which I was reminded on the trails at the Mississippi Natural Science Museum. Kids don't see the dangers...because they're kids. They see what they want, whether it's to climb on a rock or get a cell phone at 7. They don't see that it's not JUST a rock or a cell phone. It carries contingencies - contingencies that have consequences, and some of those consequences can be dangerous.
My ten year old and I have this conversation several times a week:
"EVERYBODY does this or has that. Why can't I?"
"Because you aren't everybody. You're Noelle."
"Yeah, and I'm weird."
"Congratulations. Weird is good. I should know."
"But WHY can't I have a cell phone?"
"Because you don't need one. Because you don't need to be in constant connection with anyone besides your family. Because you aren't ready to handle the social implications that come along with that constant connection. Because I love you, and I want what's best for you, even if it isn't what makes you happy today."
Some days I don't think she hears much beyond, "Because..." but we keep having the conversation anyway.
My reminder at the Science Museum, and one I preserved in film, was that parenting isn't easy, and it isn't about making your children "happy." It's about keeping them safe and hopefully teaching them that happiness is, at best, temporary. It's joy that can be sustained, and joy doesn't come from a cell phone or a stone wall.
Until next time on the bluff...
Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:E Peace St,Canton,United States
Thursday, May 31, 2012
It's 11:00 p.m. on the night before everything changes...
The kids and I had a great day, and we spent a really
special evening together - the last one before they leave for their summer
visit with their Dad next week. After
they were in bed, I completed my Biblical allusion assessment &
rubric. Tomorrow, my first graduate
school class begins at 8:30 am at Mississippi College in Clinton. What's on my mind?
The past six years have been bad enough to be worthy of
Dante or V.C. Andrews. My life has
resembled a Lifetime movie more than anything else. There have been times over that six years
that I have become depressed & discouraged and wanted to give up, but I've
always just fought through it and moved on.
Now, after four years of turmoil and two years of healing that felt like
stagnation, I can see the pattern when I start looking back. I can see how all those horrible things were
really just stones in the brook. When I
was standing in that moment - on the proverbial "stone" - it felt
like one of the circles of hell, and I wondered if God was listening or if He
was otherwise occupied.
Now, I'm nearing the other side of that particular brook,
and looking back, I can see the nasty events for what they were: stepping stones. As bad as they were, I could not be who I am
in THIS moment had it not been for the hell that hit me in THAT one. I don’t mean to be vulgar in using the term “hell;”
I mean it literally. I truly believe
that sometimes God allows the forces of hell to attack a human being for a
purpose – one that He probably isn’t going to reveal to us on this side of
eternity. (If you don’t believe that,
see the book of Job. I think it’s pretty
clear there.) In those moments when I
wanted to give up, that was certainly a choice that was before me. I COULD have given up, given in, thrown in
the towel, and decided to turn my back on what I have always believed…what I’ve
always been…in favor of what felt good in the moment. After all, that’s pretty much what the OTHER
people involved in those particular crises were doing…
But I didn’t. I kept
going. Imperfectly, sure. But I kept moving forward, as much as I
could. Now, looking at the moments – the
stones in the brook – I can say I’m thankful to have been through them, and now
I am thankful to be leaving them behind.
I’ve crossed this brook with God’s help, with my hand firmly held in
His. Now, I’m ready for the next step on
the journey of faith. Bring on tomorrow:
as long as He’s with me, it will be okay.
Monday, May 21, 2012
*The Lifeboat* by Charlotte Rogan - A book review
I picked up The Lifeboat because I have always been fascinated by shipwreck stories; there is something in the joining of a terrible need to survive juxtaposed the vast emptiness of the ocean that intrigues me. I'd also just finished Lauren Hillenbrand's Unbroken, so I figured this would perhaps be a kindred novel, if only a second cousin, once moved, from that nonfiction masterpiece.
Having finished the novel, I can say that Ms. Rogan's prose is quite lovely, and she is skillful in her use of metaphor, simile, symbol, and motif; the language is elevated, engaging and quite interesting in its own right. Troublesomely, however, I just can't like this novel, mostly because I just don't like Grace.
I wondered as I read the novel if perhaps the protagonist was named for the hero of Margaret Atwood's novel Alias Grace - I can certainly see some similarities between the women - but I LIKED Grace, despite her somewhat shadowy (and occasionally murderous) tendencies. Rogan's Grace, however, seems to be passively watching her life pass her by, shamelessly scheming to attract the attention of her wealthy husband by stealing him from his promised fiancee, while allowing herself to be steered into the murder of Mr. Hardie. As a reader, I wanted her convicted of being a really rotten human being at the same time that I wanted her acquitted of the crime.
Maybe it's the fact that I've been required to survive when I would rather have thrown in the towel myself and run for the hills. Maybe it's the torture of seeing so many children who are living below their worth because selfish parents passively allow life to happen to them. Maybe it's constantly watching people waste the precious gift of life they've been given in favor of the latest episode of "The Bachelor..." Or maybe I just can't stand people who would rather follow the crowd and do what they know to be wrong rather than standing up for what they know to be right. Maybe it's all of that, put in a blender and chopped into a fine smoothie of distaste....
All in all, this leads to what is a perhaps slightly complex review. I appreciate this novel for its use of language & its complexity. I could teach it because it has the elements needed to make a "good' study., but I'd really prefer never to read it again because I hope never to "meet" up with Grace again. Instead, I'd rather send a letter to her attorney telling him to rescind his proposal...
Having finished the novel, I can say that Ms. Rogan's prose is quite lovely, and she is skillful in her use of metaphor, simile, symbol, and motif; the language is elevated, engaging and quite interesting in its own right. Troublesomely, however, I just can't like this novel, mostly because I just don't like Grace.
I wondered as I read the novel if perhaps the protagonist was named for the hero of Margaret Atwood's novel Alias Grace - I can certainly see some similarities between the women - but I LIKED Grace, despite her somewhat shadowy (and occasionally murderous) tendencies. Rogan's Grace, however, seems to be passively watching her life pass her by, shamelessly scheming to attract the attention of her wealthy husband by stealing him from his promised fiancee, while allowing herself to be steered into the murder of Mr. Hardie. As a reader, I wanted her convicted of being a really rotten human being at the same time that I wanted her acquitted of the crime.
Maybe it's the fact that I've been required to survive when I would rather have thrown in the towel myself and run for the hills. Maybe it's the torture of seeing so many children who are living below their worth because selfish parents passively allow life to happen to them. Maybe it's constantly watching people waste the precious gift of life they've been given in favor of the latest episode of "The Bachelor..." Or maybe I just can't stand people who would rather follow the crowd and do what they know to be wrong rather than standing up for what they know to be right. Maybe it's all of that, put in a blender and chopped into a fine smoothie of distaste....
All in all, this leads to what is a perhaps slightly complex review. I appreciate this novel for its use of language & its complexity. I could teach it because it has the elements needed to make a "good' study., but I'd really prefer never to read it again because I hope never to "meet" up with Grace again. Instead, I'd rather send a letter to her attorney telling him to rescind his proposal...
Monday, May 14, 2012
In the darkness...I shall not be moved
I will bless the Lord, who hath given me counsel: my reins also instruct me in the night seasons. I have set the Lord before me: because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. (Psalm 16:7-8)
To everyone one of us, night seasons will come - those seasons when we cannot see the best way to move, seasons when every possible path seems fraught with difficulty, confusion, and defeat. It is in those very seasons that we must cling to the knowledge that we do not walk alone.
There is an important step that can protect us in these dark seasons of the soul, but it is a step that can only be taken before we enter them: we must make sure that we are following His lead. If during the seasons when the sun is brightly shining we have developed firm "reins" in our souls, tethering us to His purpose...if we have attuned our spirits to feel the gentlest instruction from His hands as He guides those reins, we need not fear the darkness. For in the darkness, He can guide us by those gentle touches, even as our eyes are failing. This isn't something God can do to us or for us; they are "MY" reins, and therefore they must be entered into voluntarily.
For the Christian who is truly sold out to faith and who is devoted in every way to walking the paths that Christ has intended, we know ahead of time that the darkness will come, and we know even more certainly that we must count on living much of our lives without being able to "see" His plan for us. Even when we can see, it is usually the pattern of where we have been, not where we are going. That's what faith is about: forming the reins of control, trusting the steering of the spirit, and resting in the calm assurance that He who I have placed at the right hand of my soul will keep me safe. And resting in that promise, I shall not be moved.
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