Sending Off James
The week has begun as a stressful mess. Made the two-hour drive to the airport to drop James off for his flight to his dad's. Three weeks without him. His dad is taking their family to New York for the holidays. It'll be the trip of a lifetime. I'm so happy the kid has the opportunity to visit the Big Apple, yet I've tried so hard to shield him from my worry and from the heartache I experience every time I have to hand him off to the "Other Family."
He tries to be funny, to wield his humor to lift the little gray cloud over my head. "You know, Mom, it figures Al Qaeda would plan something on New York's subways precisely when I'm supposed to visit."
"You're not helping, James."
"Sorry, Mom."
He tries.
"Houdini" Departure
Another Tuesday Extracurriculars run of commutes, in my pajamas, because I'd forgotten all about the schedule for the day until half an hour before we were supposed to leave. Four heads of hair, four mouths of teeth all brushed, socks and shoes on, materials stuffed into bags in less than ten minutes. That's got to be a record for us.
Got everybody where they needed to be on time, but after the rush to beat the clock, I sat in the respective parking lots, waiting and waiting and waiting, having not had enough time to gather odds and ends for errands I could've knocked out in the interim.
Instead of napping, I spent the time trying to pick up a wireless connection on the laptop so I could finish the resume and cover letter I was working on at home when the schedule walloped me on the head.
God's Window?
My writing mentor passed on a job lead this morning. "Leading parenting and education publication seeking engaging writers..." and so forth and so on. She thought it might be a good match for me. She said, "The pay's not great," but actually, the pay's not bad as far as I'm concerned. $125 a week isn't a bad supplement for working from home, for handing in 200 words a day, five days a week.
But it is a time commitment. And it's a writing commitment.
Just wrote a long e-mail to a friend about Anne Rice's autobiography, the narrative of her conversion, her return to faith, and her decision to write exclusively for the Lord.
I haven't read the book yet myself, but for an author of her stature, such a decision no doubt has had a tremendous impact on her career.
Compared to Rice, I'm still a wet-eared rookie, nowhere nearly as established, so such a move for me wouldn't "shift the foundations of my readership," as it were. I guess at this juncture, such a decision for me would cause barely a ripple in my professional life.
But I don't feel quite ready, quite prepared, quite seasoned enough, quite grounded enough in my faith to begin to pursue publication of exclusively "Christian" literature. That time may come, but it hasn't arrived just yet. I believe God will let me know in no uncertain terms when the time does come.
In the meantime, I half-hope this job opportunity pans out. Oh, how the family could use an extra $500 a month.
I asked everyone in my prayer circle to pray for me, including the kids. Yet I made it clear, I won't be disheartened if the job doesn't come through.
Why?
Because I have absolute faith God is only going to put me where He wants me, where I will best serve His purposes in His time. If this column is not it, this column is not it.
What I do know is that He does have a plan for me that will work to the good of all who love Him. Knowing that, I am not anxious, not afraid, and not discontent.
Lord, help me continue in patience and peace.
Church Visitation #1
I almost forgot.
The entire Plainview family did make it to visit a new church together on Sunday morning. Getting out the door was virtually painless. Mr. Plainview seemed quite satisfied with his decision to come along, and he did look handsome in his slacks and button-down shirt.
The bishop was kind and welcoming. Others in the congregation were happy to help us find the classrooms where the children needed to go, but as I expected, Eve's shyness took over, and she asked to go with me, Mr. Plainview, and James into the sanctuary to listen to the sermon. (Poor girl. She's come such a long way from her cheek-blushing, face-flushing days of hiding beneath my arm when anyone tried to speak to her. But she still has a way to go before she can navigate society unaffected. If she's like me, it may take her a lifetime of struggle to ever get "comfortable.")
Naturally, we would choose to visit a church on an "off-day." That is, a visiting speaker or a special service, or something else that is out of the norm. On those days, I find churches welcome visitors, yet they are apologetic for the mild chaos and warn us the service is not necessarily representative of the "usual" services.
The message was sweet: "Advent: Preparing the way of the Lord." But I don't think it was as deeply moving as we'd all hoped it might be. Eve wanted to hear more of the choir. James just wanted to be back in his bed. I would've liked a bit more scripture.
And Mr. Plainview...well...he was unimpressed. He's hard to impress anyway. I think he would've been happiest had we gotten up before dawn and made the two-and-a-half hour drive back to our home town to attend services at his childhood home.
However...I am in no way discouraged. I suggested each member of the family takes a turn choosing which church we'll visit. Mr. Plainview had no protests, so maybe if I assume we're trying again this coming Sunday, he'll be onboard by default?
Hope springs eternal. I have faith. I'm slowly coming to realize the "power of a praying wife." (Amen!)
December 16, 2008
December 11, 2008
Unseasonal Snow & Some Personal Theologies
FiresideWe were all incredulous today. Woke up to what I suspected was snow, but didn't quite believe was snow until I got outside and felt it for myself.
Folks down here just don't know what to do with themselves on the rare occasion we get any sort of frozen precipitation. Schools close, roads close, stores close at the first sign of ice.
I didn't complain. Another excellent excuse to stay in my pjs.
I've never been one to "frolic" in anything colder than room temperature. I must be part feline. Don't like to play in the rain or slosh in puddles, because then my clothes get that icky, heavy, sticky, soaky feel to them. My socks and shoes saturate around my feet, hair sticks to my face. Just makes me all-around uncomfortable.
Rain, snow, sleet, thunderstorms create a powerful yearning in me to curl up in a womb-like environment. Must be in soft, comfortable clothes. Must have the thermostat turned up. Must have a blankie within hand's reach. Must have an abundance of hot beverages and/or soup available to me at all times.
And that's when I like to read or write or doze or daydream. Outside, the world lashes the same ancient elements that drove people to mountain caves or under the earth in times immemorial. But me, with modern conveniences like central heating and canned tomato soup (with grilled Swiss cheese sandwiches), I fold up my knees, tuck my feet under me, cover up with a warm afghan, and thoroughly enjoy the lulling contrast between exposure outside and hearth-conditions inside.
Definitely/Maybe/Never
I never judge anyone on what they believe, but in conversations or in reading articles online, I often take lots of mental notes on things I don't believe myself.
I'm certainly no expert on theology. There's a whole lot more I don't know than what I do know. Most of what I do know, God's revealed to me through scripture or sermons. It's safe to say I'm unschooled and uneducated, at least Biblically speaking.
Be that as it may, some things just feel wrong. On those things, I form an opinion and bookmark the thought to return to at a later time. Among the thoughts and questions I've encountered along the way...
1. It's blasphemous to say I'll pray for someone, and then neglect or refuse to do it. I believe this is true. Now, I also believe God knows my heart, so if I truly forget to pray for someone, He understands and pardons that. But neglecting or refusing to pray for someone to whom I've given my word...it's not only a lie, but a blasphemy, because I've used God's name against him.
2. At 3 AM, the veil between the spirit world and the fleshly world is thinnest, so that's when Christians are most likely to be wakened by the Spirit to pray for someone. I believe this is false. I don't believe principalities are governed by time in the same way we are. I don't believe the spiritual realm functions according to the laws of earth. That's not to say I don't believe the Spirit may wake a person in the middle of the night to pray for someone else. I believe this happens all the time. But I don't think it has anything at all to do with the hour of the night.
3. Animals have souls/spirits. I believe this is false, in that I don't believe animals will go to Heaven or Hell. I don't make a point of hammering this fact home to the kids, especially as we've lost beloved pets in the past. And even though I don't believe animals have a spiritual construction the way we do, a part of me hopes God has a place for them somehow.
When I was little, Mom used to tell me she believed God had a place after death for animals. She mentioned the horses of the armies of Heaven (Revelations 19) and said she liked to believe those horses were the horses of Egypt that drowned when the Red Sea closed over them after Moses brought the Israelites across.
Her imaginings may have no basis in truth at all, but I don't think we'll know until we get there. But even if animals don't have a place "beyond," I trust in God's complete plan, and I won't question it. Pets are a blessing, and we're thankful for them, even if they're only meant for us to enjoy for a short time here on earth.
4. "It's a day-to-day salvation." I believe this is false. When it was said to me, it was implied my salvation is secure until the moment I sin again. When that happens, I'm unfit for Heaven again, so I have to go through a constant process of confession and repentance if I'm going to be allowed into Heaven's gates.
I personally, deeply believe my place at the Father's table is set and secure. I'm paid for and redeemed, no matter how many times I fail over and over again here. I believe I will go through a constant process of confession and repentance for the rest of my life, but I believe it's a process of drawing close to Him and has no bearing on my salvation, which is already established.
5. Some tangible, earthly objects are holy. I believe this is true, but for me, this concept is limited. I believe some tangible, earthly objects are holy, like a Bible or a church. But I don't believe these objects hold spiritual energy or power in and of themselves, as some people believe certain rocks are sacred, or certain gems can bring blessing or curse.
I believe God sanctifies some things for His purposes, as symbols. A church by itself is consecrated to God by people, but let's say the building and property are sold to a restaurant franchise. The restaurant then is not holy and consecrated. The actual building and the land its on are no longer holy and consecrated.
I believe the same thing holds true for things like jewelry with crosses on them. The crosses are not holy in and of themselves, but for the wearer, they may symbolize a holy, consecrated faith.
Of course, there are people who wear crosses with no conviction or symbolic meaning for them at all. In this case, the crosses are meaningless, tangible objects that hold no significance.
And there are times when people wear crosses to express a contrary quality. I think of the use of crosses in certain music videos, worn by some artist who advocate violence and obscenity. In these instances, the wearers know the cross holds meaning for Christians, yet they wear the cross to oppose, resent, discredit (or worse) a faith in Christ. Then, the use of the cross becomes unholy thing.
Holding OnI went into the freezer tonight to pull out the meat for supper tomorrow, and I found the kids' last, desperate attempt to hold onto our unseasonal snow as long as possible.
Elegant, sweet, and sadly...temporary.
December 10, 2008
The Lost Loved One: Praying Till the Day I Die
Be still, and know that I am God.... Psalm 46:10
Advent Activity: December 10
Make a donation to the needy.
Advent Activity: December 10
Make a donation to the needy.
Grief, Guilt, & Gratitude
It's cold enough to snow, but the sky refuses to send us the light little filigree fragments of winter wonder. Instead, we get soppy wet sleet and chilled-to-the-bone feet, frozen noses and toes.
But how efficiently the weather reflects the subtle melancholy just below the surface of my heart. I wait for the blessings to follow the trials, just as I wait for the mercury to drop just a bit more. It must be achingly cold for snowflakes to fall.
At dinner tonight, we finally told the kids how Christmas will be, and how it will not be. God is a merciful God, I know this. There were no tears, no protests. On the contrary, Eve expressed a rare sense of gratitude: "I'm glad we're making the change. I want our Christmas to be about what Christmas is really about." And the other children agreed.
So God saved me grief and guilt that this year's celebration will not go according to original plan. I'm shocked the family is still expectant, genuinely looking forward to the excitement that will come with a simple, humble, authentic purpose: to celebrate Jesus's birthday.
Another Answered Prayer: Mr. Plainview in the Pew
How long has it been since I attended a Christmas Eve service at a church? I can't remember the last time I did. Maybe when I was a child. And yet, this year, God's paved the way for us to go together (minus James and Mr. Plainview, of course). I have no Christmas wish list for myself, but if I did, going to a Christmas Eve service with my family would be a dream come true.
We may not all be able to attend a Christmas Eve service together, but God's answered a great prayer: attending a regular church service with Mr. Plainview.
Yes, historically, we have been that family: the family in which Mother always takes the children to church while Father always stays at home. I've prayed for years that Mr. Plainview would find the inspiration to go with us. In all those years, he never, ever has.
Last night, I looked up the girls' friend's church. I didn't have high hopes Mr. Plainview would be interested in attending. He's always expressed he'd rather be nibbled to death by ducks than visit a new church.
But he surprised me. He was indeed interested, and at this hour, the plan is for the whole family to attend church together this coming Sunday morning. Nothing short of miraculous. Amen.
(On a slightly superficial note, the girls have nothing very Christmasey or at all formal to wear to a Christmas Eve service. We haven't needed "formal" attire for years and years. This means I'll have to come up with something quickly, which means I'm looking at an all-night sewing session some time in the near future. Another blessing in disguise, as I do so love to sew, and the girls always look so pretty in their homemade outfits.)
It's Time
Tonight, I began working on a homeschooling writing handbook which will become a complete curriculum in its finished form. I made marked progress. The structure of it all is coming together quite nicely in my head, and the outline is for the most part on paper.
After the speaking engagement last week, I haven't been able to shake the notion I really need to put my method into a single source that can be shared and archived. Writing nonfiction seems so much more surmountable than fiction could ever be. And in writing something that will aid other parents just like me, I don't face the same terrible despair and warring brand of inspiration that comes to my spirit when I'm trying to write fiction.
I don't feel weak in writing this particular book. As a matter of fact, I feel empowered with purpose, as if I'm answering a need God put in my heart a long time ago. It seems clear to me the time for this project is now.
Yet another confirmation: In the grand scheme of things, God is slowing me down and shaving off various aspects of my life in order to still my spirit to focus on the next step He has for me to take.
The Lost Loved One: Praying Till the Day I Die
I can hardly absorb into my brain how He continues to answer my prayers every single day.
I remember a story of an elderly woman who prayed for her lost son every day of her life. She prayed and prayed, year after year, that God would bring her son into the palm of His hand.
And year after year, her prayers seemed to go unanswered as her child continued along, stubborn, unheeding, and ever lost.
But she never stopped praying. She never stopped believing in God's power and love.
Then one day, toward the very end of her life, she saw her son on his knees, giving his life to Christ. And then she died.
Not a unique story. It happens every day, all over the world, and not just to elderly ladies, but to praying wives and praying mothers of every age, from every walk of life. Lost children, lost husbands, lost parents, lost friends.
So often, I've looked on my Christian friends with their Christian husbands and their godly marriages, and I've envied till I thought I'd die from covetousness. Families reading scripture together, going to church together, praying together, worshiping God together...wearing their faith on their collective sleeves.
There is no ache like it: knowing Christ yourself, but living with the burden your husband does not know Him, not being able to share the paramount blessing there is to be had in this life on earth!
I recall now, so many nights on my knees, in tears, begging God to reveal Himself to Mr. Plainview, wondering if the man's heart was so hard he might never, ever see.
God Himself told me my entire family belongs to Him, and I believe it. To this day, I believe it. My siblings and Mr. Plainview are still proud, still struggling, still don't comprehend the Truth. They are still lost, but I continue to pray and continue to believe the day will come when God will make His claim. I believe this, because He told me it's so.
I may be the same as the elderly woman and her lost son. I may go to the cusp of my grave praying and praying for my family, but I'll believe to the very end.
Yet, I can't anticipate God. I may not have to wait until the very end. Mr. Plainview agreed it will be a good thing for the whole family to go to church together on Sunday. Perhaps I expected he wouldn't agree to that until we were at the cusp of our graves?
God is full of surprises.
December 9, 2008
The Search for a Home Church
I wish finding a home church were an easy endeavor. I wish it were like "love at first sight," when I'd just know if a church was the right one for me.
I must be a very picky person. I'm not sure what I have in mind for a home church, but at the same time, I know what I wouldn't like in a home church.
Not that I have a wide basis for comparison. In all my years as a believer, there's been only one church I referred to as a "home church." It was distinguished as such in my mind, because I came to know the pastor and his family, and his particular method for his sermons and services.
I knew all the worship songs by heart. I came to know the other leaders. I knew all the families in the congregation. I participated in the women's ministry, served in the choir and in the nursery. I felt completely comfortable there. I knew what to expect.
Through that one "home church," I was also first exposed to the weaknesses in a church body. I learned my fellow Christians were still capable of profanity, conceit, and pride. They were still capable of treating each other horribly, lying to each other, making poor and selfish choices. And I was still vulnerable to being treated badly, too.
That experience didn't make me a cynic or cause me to doubt God's holiness or purposes. Even after the first shock of being yelled at by the worship leader.
(To make a long story short...
I was working in a sandwich shop, and the worship leader's wife came in late to pick up some cookies. When I told her we'd run out, she got very worried and asked to use the phone. She called her husband (the worship leader) and told him the bad news.
The next thing I knew, she held out the phone to me and said, "He wants to talk to you."
The worship leader said, "Are you serious? You're out of chocolate chip cookies?"
"I'm afraid so," I said.
"Well, that's crap," he said.
I thought he was joking, so I laughed. "Yes-sir. I just sold the last one."
"No, no, don't give me that. How can you be out of chocolate chip cookies? That's ridiculous. Your sign says you have cookies; you're supposed to have cookies. I'm supposed to be able to send my wife in there to get some, and you're supposed to have them...," and on and on and on.
It took a few seconds for me to realize he was serious, and angry with me--angry that I didn't have chocolate chip cookies.
Of course, I've never been one to handle confrontation well anyway, but in this particular instance, I was caught so off-guard, I really didn't know what to do.
His wife looked at me sympathetically, and she was obviously embarrassed, because she knew who I was, I knew who she was, and we both knew I knew who he was.)
But like I said, that experience didn't make me a cynic or cause me to doubt God's holiness or purposes. Even after the first shock of being yelled at by the worship leader.
What it did do was help me realize the church is not a perfectly functioning, spotless entity. The people in the congregation are not perfect and spotless. I couldn't expect them to be, unless I expected to be perfect and spotless myself. But I'm not, and I know they can't be either.
However, that experience did cause me to evaluate what I would expect in a home church, and that standard is a genuine, Christ-seeking leadership. Kindness, prayer, a total reliance on God and His word. I know that's not too much to ask, but I also know I'm no expert at recognizing that in a leader.
So, I've prayed and prayed for many years to find a home church. I've visited a few.
At the first one, the pastor was kind, but the messages fell a bit flat for me. The congregation seemed a bit too content for my taste, so I didn't go back.
At the next one, the pastor was a bit too focused on the men in the congregation, and I guess I just couldn't very well identify with his fervent love for sports, especially as he drew on his love for sports for most of his analogies.
The last one I visited, the congregation was so large, I felt utterly lost in the pews. The people were kind enough. The leadership was genuine and enthusiastic. And the church certainly wasn't at a loss for ministries and activities. But it was just way too overwhelming for me.
What do I envision?
I suppose I'd like to be a part of a smaller congregation...one where I wouldn't get lost in the pew, and I could make a real difference when I find my opportunity to serve.
I pray for a pastor who may have quite a few years behind him, but isn't so distant from the nature of the present generation that he can't relate and struggles to be relevant.
Having the kids attend services with me on Sunday is so, so important to me. I know how much they love children's church, but having that family time together to hear the word...so important.
And I wouldn't want all the ministries and activities to become so weighty on the church's agenda that it draws away from keeping the body strong and right and in Him. It's so easy to get caught up in barbecues and fun days and coffees and classes.
---
We got an invitation in the mail today to attend a Christmas festival and performance at the big (big. big. BIG.) church downtown. I have no doubt it's a great church, but it may be too great for me.
There's also a little church the girls' friend goes to. It sounds like a sweet congregation, mid-sized. But it's a denominational church, and I just don't know if I could be comfortable there.
All this wondering and comparing and contrasting. All these questions and concerns, as if it were entirely up to me. As if it's ever been entirely up to me.
There's a reason I put this decision in God's hands so long ago, and there's a reason why He hasn't answered yet. In any case, I'm putting it at the top of my prayer list: God, please give us a home church.
I must be a very picky person. I'm not sure what I have in mind for a home church, but at the same time, I know what I wouldn't like in a home church.
Not that I have a wide basis for comparison. In all my years as a believer, there's been only one church I referred to as a "home church." It was distinguished as such in my mind, because I came to know the pastor and his family, and his particular method for his sermons and services.
I knew all the worship songs by heart. I came to know the other leaders. I knew all the families in the congregation. I participated in the women's ministry, served in the choir and in the nursery. I felt completely comfortable there. I knew what to expect.
Through that one "home church," I was also first exposed to the weaknesses in a church body. I learned my fellow Christians were still capable of profanity, conceit, and pride. They were still capable of treating each other horribly, lying to each other, making poor and selfish choices. And I was still vulnerable to being treated badly, too.
That experience didn't make me a cynic or cause me to doubt God's holiness or purposes. Even after the first shock of being yelled at by the worship leader.
(To make a long story short...
I was working in a sandwich shop, and the worship leader's wife came in late to pick up some cookies. When I told her we'd run out, she got very worried and asked to use the phone. She called her husband (the worship leader) and told him the bad news.
The next thing I knew, she held out the phone to me and said, "He wants to talk to you."
The worship leader said, "Are you serious? You're out of chocolate chip cookies?"
"I'm afraid so," I said.
"Well, that's crap," he said.
I thought he was joking, so I laughed. "Yes-sir. I just sold the last one."
"No, no, don't give me that. How can you be out of chocolate chip cookies? That's ridiculous. Your sign says you have cookies; you're supposed to have cookies. I'm supposed to be able to send my wife in there to get some, and you're supposed to have them...," and on and on and on.
It took a few seconds for me to realize he was serious, and angry with me--angry that I didn't have chocolate chip cookies.
Of course, I've never been one to handle confrontation well anyway, but in this particular instance, I was caught so off-guard, I really didn't know what to do.
His wife looked at me sympathetically, and she was obviously embarrassed, because she knew who I was, I knew who she was, and we both knew I knew who he was.)
But like I said, that experience didn't make me a cynic or cause me to doubt God's holiness or purposes. Even after the first shock of being yelled at by the worship leader.
What it did do was help me realize the church is not a perfectly functioning, spotless entity. The people in the congregation are not perfect and spotless. I couldn't expect them to be, unless I expected to be perfect and spotless myself. But I'm not, and I know they can't be either.
However, that experience did cause me to evaluate what I would expect in a home church, and that standard is a genuine, Christ-seeking leadership. Kindness, prayer, a total reliance on God and His word. I know that's not too much to ask, but I also know I'm no expert at recognizing that in a leader.
So, I've prayed and prayed for many years to find a home church. I've visited a few.
At the first one, the pastor was kind, but the messages fell a bit flat for me. The congregation seemed a bit too content for my taste, so I didn't go back.
At the next one, the pastor was a bit too focused on the men in the congregation, and I guess I just couldn't very well identify with his fervent love for sports, especially as he drew on his love for sports for most of his analogies.
The last one I visited, the congregation was so large, I felt utterly lost in the pews. The people were kind enough. The leadership was genuine and enthusiastic. And the church certainly wasn't at a loss for ministries and activities. But it was just way too overwhelming for me.
What do I envision?
I suppose I'd like to be a part of a smaller congregation...one where I wouldn't get lost in the pew, and I could make a real difference when I find my opportunity to serve.
I pray for a pastor who may have quite a few years behind him, but isn't so distant from the nature of the present generation that he can't relate and struggles to be relevant.
Having the kids attend services with me on Sunday is so, so important to me. I know how much they love children's church, but having that family time together to hear the word...so important.
And I wouldn't want all the ministries and activities to become so weighty on the church's agenda that it draws away from keeping the body strong and right and in Him. It's so easy to get caught up in barbecues and fun days and coffees and classes.
---
We got an invitation in the mail today to attend a Christmas festival and performance at the big (big. big. BIG.) church downtown. I have no doubt it's a great church, but it may be too great for me.
There's also a little church the girls' friend goes to. It sounds like a sweet congregation, mid-sized. But it's a denominational church, and I just don't know if I could be comfortable there.
All this wondering and comparing and contrasting. All these questions and concerns, as if it were entirely up to me. As if it's ever been entirely up to me.
There's a reason I put this decision in God's hands so long ago, and there's a reason why He hasn't answered yet. In any case, I'm putting it at the top of my prayer list: God, please give us a home church.
Advent Activities: December 7, 8, & 9
December 7
Second Week of Advent
Light the “Candle of Preparation.”
Read from Scripture.
Pray for loved ones,
and prepare a new prayer list for the week.
December 8
Make a Christmas card for a special friend.
December 9
Create embossed gift tags.
Second Week of Advent
Light the “Candle of Preparation.”
Read from Scripture.
Pray for loved ones,
and prepare a new prayer list for the week.
December 8
Make a Christmas card for a special friend.
December 9
Create embossed gift tags.
Embossed Gift Tags
- Cut a simple shape out of cardboard.
- Glue cardboard shape onto a square of cardstock or other heavy duty paper.
- Cover with foil and secure with tape in back.
- Gently press along the edges of the shape with eraser end of a pencil, a cotton swab, or anything with a firm but dull end. Pressing too hard or using a sharp tool will tear the foil.
- Optional: Press (like “coloring” with the dull tool) the rest of the foil on the background of the shape to enhance contrast.
- Color with semi- or permanent markers either on shape, on background, or both.
- greeting card inserts
- bookmarks
- picture frames (cut out rectangle in the center so the photo shows through)
- wall hangings
- table setting name cards
A Holy Night
Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.Philippians 4:6-7
I'm trying to be "careful for nothing," even in the face of unexpected disappointment.
Mr. Plainview won't be home for Christmas, and neither will James. The celebration is postponed until their return. The sudden change in plans will drain the joy right out of my spirit if I let it. But I won't.
I remember: disappointment is only an emotion, and denying emotion before the Lord is dishonest and does not allow me to face the root of the problem head on. What I do with the disappointment is the matter of importance here.
So what will I do with the disappointment?
I choose to present my burdens to God, grieve in Him, and then to rejoice for the blessings He's given us despite the things we want but cannot have.
Christmas Eve will not be about the anticipation of Santa's visit, or the joyful chaos of sleeping over at the aunt's and uncle's house. It won't be about trying to fall asleep so we can wake up to gifts and presents.
In life's trying and challenging way, circumstances have shifted around us so that our Christmas Eve this year will be one of soft, quiet togetherness. In the absence of the men of the house, the girls and I will settle our spirits into a Holy Night.
We didn't plan it this way. I find it strange, a little painful, but also wondrous and miraculous that God would answer my prayer in such an unexpected way. I prayed for a peaceful Christmas at home. I prayed for our hearts and minds to be turned toward Bethlehem on a night that has become so gripped and strangled by self-interests and commercialism.
I could have never guessed God would move His hand in this particular way. He knows I myself never would have chosen to quiet Christmas that much, but this is what He's purposed, so this is how we'll follow.
I envision a night by candlelight, singing soft songs, telling stories, reading about the birth of Jesus. Maybe when all the stars are out, we'll bundle up in warm clothes and cuddle together under thick blankets on the trampoline outside and think about how the stars we see above are as old as the earth, that these same stars were in the sky the night Jesus was born. Maybe we'll sing songs to him then, long after the rest of the families in the neighborhood have turned in.
There is an amount of grief we won't celebrate in our usual way, that we won't go to bed excited or wake up excited the way the rest of the world will. But I know there's a profound blessing in His plan, too. I intend to lead the girls to embrace the small, special gift God's hidden away for us under a thin layer of sadness.
December 7, 2008
"Bunny," A New Robe, & A New Year's Prayer
Eve's Finished Rag Doll, "Bunny"
On this Day 2 of her project, Eve sewed together her rag doll's body and limbs, cut and sewed the doll's dress, and added a ribbon sash and bows in her hair. She named her doll "Bunny," after her beloved plush bunny she lost a couple weeks ago when a rambunctious little boy threw it on the roof at Love's gym class.
We all thought Eve did such a wonderful job; Love and Alice were inspired to make their own, so Eve helped Love sew and stuff an unadorned head that will soon become a new rag doll for Love. Eve's promised to help Alice with her doll after that.
A New Robe
After repenting and stepping from the brush last week, Jesus met me on the road there. I felt such a sweet sense of relief. He very simply took from me the burden of many months trying to make it on my own strength along my own path.
An image has followed me all week. I looked down at my robe, at the rips in the fabric, the dirt, the sweat stains, the places where the thorns broke my skin and drew blood. I was repulsed and ashamed at how filthy my clothes were.
Jesus said, "Let me have that." So I gave the old robe to Him. He took it in His left hand, and it turned to ash.
With His right hand, He handed me a brand new robe He fashioned just for me. It was made of spotless white linen, soft and perfect, and it had never been worn before by anyone else.
I put the new robe on, and ever since, I've been unashamed to walk next to Him, to ask for things in prayer, or even to confess my sins and ask for His forgiveness and guidance.
I suppose I feel like I'm part of His family. (Intellectually, I've always known that I am, but genuinely feeling that I am part of His family, that I can approach Him without rebuke...that has taken a long time to come to.) I would never feel hesitant or apprehensive to go to my earthly father or my uncle or any of my brothers to talk with them about things, good or bad. Jesus loves me more than my father or uncle or any of my brothers, and He welcomes me in every hour. It struck me quite deeply that I find a comfort and ease of intimacy with Him now, in my new robe He made for me, on this road He paved just for me.
And I can't help but wax sentimental about it all, because I've yearned to experience healing for such a long time. I've never known why there was such a wait before it came to pass, and I may not fully understand for a much longer time. But honestly? I'm content right here where I am with Him on this path. I know He'll walk me to the next destination, wherever that may be, whatever challenges may lie ahead. But I'm not rushing; I'm not impatient. And I'm not dreading the next bend either.
New Year's Prayer
Otherwise, I'm anticipating some big changes around the house between now and the New Year.
Guess I've just discovered my New Year's Prayer (formerly "Resolution"): Return to Peace at Home.
On this Day 2 of her project, Eve sewed together her rag doll's body and limbs, cut and sewed the doll's dress, and added a ribbon sash and bows in her hair. She named her doll "Bunny," after her beloved plush bunny she lost a couple weeks ago when a rambunctious little boy threw it on the roof at Love's gym class.
We all thought Eve did such a wonderful job; Love and Alice were inspired to make their own, so Eve helped Love sew and stuff an unadorned head that will soon become a new rag doll for Love. Eve's promised to help Alice with her doll after that.
A New Robe
After repenting and stepping from the brush last week, Jesus met me on the road there. I felt such a sweet sense of relief. He very simply took from me the burden of many months trying to make it on my own strength along my own path.
An image has followed me all week. I looked down at my robe, at the rips in the fabric, the dirt, the sweat stains, the places where the thorns broke my skin and drew blood. I was repulsed and ashamed at how filthy my clothes were.
Jesus said, "Let me have that." So I gave the old robe to Him. He took it in His left hand, and it turned to ash.
With His right hand, He handed me a brand new robe He fashioned just for me. It was made of spotless white linen, soft and perfect, and it had never been worn before by anyone else.
I put the new robe on, and ever since, I've been unashamed to walk next to Him, to ask for things in prayer, or even to confess my sins and ask for His forgiveness and guidance.
I suppose I feel like I'm part of His family. (Intellectually, I've always known that I am, but genuinely feeling that I am part of His family, that I can approach Him without rebuke...that has taken a long time to come to.) I would never feel hesitant or apprehensive to go to my earthly father or my uncle or any of my brothers to talk with them about things, good or bad. Jesus loves me more than my father or uncle or any of my brothers, and He welcomes me in every hour. It struck me quite deeply that I find a comfort and ease of intimacy with Him now, in my new robe He made for me, on this road He paved just for me.
And I can't help but wax sentimental about it all, because I've yearned to experience healing for such a long time. I've never known why there was such a wait before it came to pass, and I may not fully understand for a much longer time. But honestly? I'm content right here where I am with Him on this path. I know He'll walk me to the next destination, wherever that may be, whatever challenges may lie ahead. But I'm not rushing; I'm not impatient. And I'm not dreading the next bend either.
New Year's Prayer
Otherwise, I'm anticipating some big changes around the house between now and the New Year.
- Cutting off digital cable television (for a significant savings on the Internet/telephone bundle).
- Opening a second checking account. Deposits into the first account are for bill payments only. Deposits into the second account are for other household expenses and general spending.
- Major shift in the kitchen. Scaling way back on prepared foods, and cooking from scratch the majority of the time. It's going to require better time management, but I think I'm ready to take on the challenge.
- Stricter limitations on driving habits.
- Sticking close to home as much as possible.
Guess I've just discovered my New Year's Prayer (formerly "Resolution"): Return to Peace at Home.
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