What's in a Flower?

  Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?  Matthew 26:28-29

  It's been a difficult couple of weeks.  I've wanted to write but I've surrendered to sleep during those times when I can think and write in peace. Many of you know that a year ago I was diagnosed with a congenital defect of my spine. It's called spondylolisthesis which means "vertebrae slip". Literally, one of my vertebra has slipped forward out of place and is pressing down on the nerves to my right leg. It has been a most unwelcome guest in my life and I've done everything in my power to get it to leave. That's just it, isn't it? I'VE done everything in MY power to gain control over the pain and the treatment and the outcome. And where has it gotten me? One year, three months of rehab, two thousand dollars, three epidural blocks, and a cocktail of prescriptions later, I'm in the exact same place physically. Spiritually, I have been altered greatly. This trial has revealed so much about my sin and what I believe about the character of God. Thee Gardener has been doing much pruning and it's painful.
  Outside, I'm beginning to see the heads of bulbs push through the earth with determination. Soon daffodils will trumpet and lilies will hang their heads in shyness, bowing to their creator. I think that flowers are one of God's most wondrous creations. The detail, the delicacy, the vibrancy of color and the fragrance all speak to a God whose creativity and power demands our worship. Why did God go to such effort to infuse beauty and life into something so fleeting? Flowers, after all, wither and die.
  Could we not say the same of us? Our beauty fades and our time will come when the color drains from our petal-like cheeks and we die down into the earth. Are we really worth it?  Am I worth it when my Gardener sees the beauty of His hand suffocated by the thick weeds of sin? Can I reflect back the beauty of His glory?
   These versus in Matthew say, yes. Unequivocally, yes! How much more does my Lord love me than the flowers? He supplies all the needs to the flowers of the field, which pass much more quickly than you or I. Will He not supply all my needs as a child of His, created to think and feel and love Him back? He will. He has clothed me--clothed me in the garments of grace. My Lord has declared me beautiful and I must live in His light if I am to grow and be healthy just as the flowers turn their heads to the rays of the sun for their sustenance.
  Sometimes I forget just how much I am valued--more than the birds of the air or the grasses of the field for He did not create those things to praise Him. Physical pain can speak lies and tell us that we are suffering because of we are of no value. But the Lord who knows the very number of hairs on my head loves me. He created me as I am, crooked back and all, and He will use all things for His glory.
 I'm preaching to myself today, but maybe you too are suffering in some way. Let's remember that His love for us is demonstrated throughout scripture. No garden is without weeds. A gentle, caring Gardener works tirelessly because He believes in the beauty of His creation. When the pruning is complete, we will stand erect before Him and be visible evidence His greatness. I want to be that kind of flower.

Meet Trouble!

 I'm quite certain that every child safety device was created with children like Ben in mind. He is just plain trouble wrapped in a deliciously cute package. That's a double threat.
 He's my only boy after two girls and so I was totally unprepared for his mischievous antics and his destructive actions. He's not malicious. No, not at all. Just....curious.
 So when it came to moving him into a "big boy" bed, I was terrified. I knew it was time, but why would I grant him greater access to this curiosity by removing the barrier of a barred crib? Was I insane? After much discussion, I did concede to the hubby that moving Ben into a bed would certainly help my back (more about that in another post). So, off to the mattress store we went. One twin and a few hundred bucks later, we were equipped with a tangible reminder that our toddler is no longer a baby (insert sobs here).
  He wanted to sleep in the bed immediately. In my distress, I tried to convince him to wait just a little bit longer. "Don't you like your crib?" I asked. What I was really saying was, "Mommy likes you in your crib because you stay put. You sleep well. You aren't growing up if you're in a crib. Why does everything have to change? I need some chocolate!" However, after he kissed the crib and said goodbye to it, I figured it was time to embrace the change (and by embrace, I mean kicking and screaming).

We bought a cute construction quilt from HomeGoods and some sheets, bedskirt, mattress protector, and pillow top mattress pad--everything a boy needs to have a good night's sleep. He LOVED the quilt. The boy is seriously into cars, trucks, diggers, etc... We put it all together and he tried it out with sisters one and two. I think they liked it!

 Ben beamed and declared, "I have a big bed like Gracie and Mon-noo (translation: Molly)" It was love at first sight. But how would the first sleep go? How long would it take him to slink down and start a fire? To try to repel out of the window? To swallow a figurine or flush a stuffed animal down the toilet? HOW LONG?

  Nap time rolled around and I read to him atop his throne and stroked his hair. I explained to him that he must stay in his bed and that getting out was punishable by spanking! I told him that if he stayed in his bed he would get marshmellows when he woke up (I'm pulling out all the stops NOT to have my house burned down). Then I said goodnight. Exit room. Run to baby monitor. Wait. Wait. Wait. Nothing. Silence. Breathing. Sucking. Seriously? That's it? Against my better judgement, I inched back into the room and saw my boy (my big boy)--fast sleep. I wanted to cry. It's not about the bed. It's about acknowledging that this is probably the last baby we're going to have. It's about letting go. Honestly, my heart aches for another baby, and the Lord knows this. We have been praying about having a fourth, but my body fails me daily and I can't confidently say that it would be a wise decision to go against the doctors that have told me my family is complete. So, I leave it in the Lord hands to comfort my grieving heart. He knows the desires of my heart. He knows the state my back is in--He crafted the bones and though defective in the eyes of surgeons and specialists, I am "fearfully and wonderfully made." And so after seven years of continuous use, the crib is broken down and stored. The season is over and we head into another season.

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a -time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace."



It's all about Grace

 February is a really cruel month. The sky is consistently colorless, and the coldness ties you to your house. Signs of spring have not yet broken through. We fight illness. We fight boredom. We just plain fight! But in the midst of all this white stillness, is a sparkling ray of warm sunshine...and her name is Grace Perry.
 Five years ago on February 1st, Grace literally burst onto the scene. Born three weeks early and in a chaotic hour and a half, Grace entered the world just a screaming to be noticed! She had a rocky (or should I say noisy) first four months, but then settled into being a wonderfully calm, sweet baby. She's been that way ever since.
 As our children grow, I can begin to see what their unique gifts are and Grace was born with a special heart which is naturally bent towards helpfulness, and compassion. She notices when you're hurting and she hurts. She's eager to do anything to help even if it's not quite done right. She loves to please. She is particularly sensitive which can sometimes be difficult, but if Brent and I (by way of the Holy Spirit) can properly steer that sensitivity, she could be greatly used to care for God's people. She just knows how to love well.
 God knew I needed a little girl like Grace, and her name reflects the period of our lives that we were (and still are) in when expecting her: astute awareness of God's grace to sinners such as us. It was God's grace that sustained me during a grueling pregnancy and that same grace that delivered her into our arms healthy and happy. Her name also reflects my favorite scripture, "But he said 'My grace is sufficient for you for my power is made perfect in weakness.' (2 Cor 12:9). I had it stenciled on the wall in her nursery, and as I rocked this weak little infant each night, I was reminded that I too am as weak as newborn babe without the perfect grace of my Lord and Savior.

 At five, she's a typical girl requesting a Sleeping Beauty dress and her annual spaghetti dinner with the family. She loves spaghetti!! It's a treat to watch her slurp and suck those noodles with such innocence and carelessness. The world is perfect to her. We pray that she can hold on to that childlike spirit for a while longer, and that when the reality of the world steals it, she will see the need for a Savior and He will draw near to her.

  Dear Gracie,
Mommy loves you, precious girl. Thank you for the way you allow me to experience the joys of life with you. Thank you for the sweet embraces I receive every day and for the life that bursts forth from you. Realize that the sweetness God put in you is for His purpose and seek ways to use it for His Glory. We're so proud of who you are and excited to walk beside you as you grow. What a joy to be your mother.

Monday Madness

I can't get to the treadmill fast enough tonight.  I need to shed this day. I need to shed the guacamole I ate for dinner! I sigh deeply. It's the kind of sigh that says, "I made it through another day. I made it through the Monday madness". I begin the thud, thud, thud of walking quickly and yet going nowhere. It's nice to just switch off and do something I know I can do--put one foot in front of the other and keep going. I close my eyes. Thud, thud, thud. My mind begins to wonder and I start to catalog the various failures of the past few days. I'm stressed and it's not lessening with the force of my steps. I didn't r.s.v.p. to a birthday  party. I didn't get to cleaning the kitchen. I haven't called that friend and checked on her. I need to run some errands. I should have been more patient with Molly while doing homework. The washing machine is full again. The list goes on. I'm annoyed with myself. I'm tired. I. I. I.
 I spend a lot of time thinking about myself. But this day isn't about me. It's about Him. Every day is about Him. Burdened by the circumstances of life in this world, I've failed to celebrate Jesus today. Elyse Fitzpatrick, in her book Comforts from the Cross encourages us to ponder, "his sinless life, death, resurrection, ascension, and reign, and the sure promise of his return." There's the hope in my day--Christ is one day going to shatter the sky and come and fetch me. My heart is beginning to calm. I need to celebrate the gospel daily otherwise it just all gets too much, doesn't it? Too much I. Thoughts of that day, make me smile and my mind shifts to prayer and praise. Monday has been redeemed.

Resolved to Change Part II

   I love books. They're like little friends standing to attention on my shelves. I know where each one is and when and where I bought each one. I can usually remember when I read a certain title too--what was going on in my life and how the book affected me. They loyally delight me time and time again. To love them is to dog-ear their pages like wrinkles on a face and to gingerly underline their text; to fold the cover back with ease and hold it in my hands. A well worn book is a well loved book. And so, I'm going to blog about books. I'm going to blog a lot about books!
   I owe my love (passion, obsession, fanaticism, idolatry--whatever) of books to my parents. From the earliest age, they read to me and I always remember seeing my mother with a book (still do). I have fond memories of cuddling up in my parents' bed after bath time and my father reading stories and chapter books to my brother and I. There is something melodious and comforting about hearing a man's voice read aloud. Wrapped up in that fairytale is security--a parent taking time to delight their children. I remember most of those stories to this day and when my children ask me to read to them--into our bed they go.
  I confess to you now that I've loved many books much more than the book of all books. I've read many books about the Bible as a substitution for reading the actual Bible. I've read books over and over and have failed to read thee greatest book all the way through even once. I'll push on through a tough read like Pynchon or Dostoevsky, but can't make it past the book of Judges in my yearly reading plan. I liken myself to heroines in a book and dream about living out their adventures. A complicated plot thrills me as I try to figure out the twists and turns and resolutions. I don't meditate on the Word. I remember favorite sentences that were written so beautifully that they've become etched in my mind. I can recall only a smattering of verses by heart and most of the time I get the reference wrong.
    I recently read a wonderful missionary biography called Evidence Not Seen by Darlene Diebler Rose. If you want a book that thrills your soul and reminds you of the power of our Almighty Father than this is the books for you. Darlene, a missionary to New Guinea, is taken as a prisoner of war by the Japanese when World War II breaks out and the Dutch East Indies is occupied. I won't write of the many trials that she endures (YOU read the book), but one of the things that brings her comfort and ultimately sustains her very life is her love of the word and her commitment to memorize it. She writes:

 As a child and young person, I had a driving compulsion to memorize the written Word. In the cell I was grateful now for those days in Vacation Bible School, when I had memorized many single verses, complete chapters, and Psalms, as well as whole books of the Bible. In the years that followed, I reviewed the scriptures often. The Lord fed me with the Living Bread that had been stored against the day when fresh supply was cut off by the loss of my Bible. He brought daily comfort and encouragement-yes, and joy--to my heart through the knowledge of the Word.

Wow. You know, I'm in a war too. A different kind of war, but just as brutal. I'm fighting to raise my children in this morally desolate society. I'm fighting against Satan who tells me lies about myself and the character of my Lord. I'm fighting to keep myself centered in Christ when difficult times come and I feel like God's love is slipping away. I need to be fed with the Living Bread too.

   So, scripture memory is a new commitment I've made to God this year. It doesn't come naturally to me. I'd rather pray --no shocker that talking comes easily for me. I keep reminding myself that I don't have to do this alone. I have the gift of the Holy Spirit and I'm seeking His help. I'm praying that the Lord would fill me with a desire to memorize His word and to hold it in my heart above all else. And now I have to do the work. Whether it's in the carpool line or walking on the treadmill, I'm figuring in time to learn verses written on index cards. I want to arm myself for the battle. I want to equip myself to defend. I want to ready myself to evangelize.

 Joshua Choonmin Kang encourages this discipline in his book Scripture by Heart- Devotional Practices for Memorizing God's Word. He writes:

It's never too early, and never too late to begin a serious program of Scripture memory with a view to mastering the meaning of the Bible as a whole. Just know that you're not alone in the process. The Spirit plays his part, annointing our spirit, offering us the grace of his teaching.

Thank you, Lord for sending us your Word. Give me a yearning to read your message daily and to commit it to memory that I might be a light for you. Encourage me when I struggle. Give me opportunities to practice. Help me to always cherish your book as thee book. Amen.

Resolved to Change- Part I.

EAT ME! EAT ME!

I'm done with the flaky New Year's Resolutions. Exercise more. Eat better. Brush and floss twice a day (just kidding about that last one, folks). I've had the same resolutions for the past ten years at least. They are no longer resolutions. They are lies. I'm not saying it's bad to exercise. It isn't. And I could surely stand to put down that Daylight Donut (alright, 2 donuts) for a celery stick. But are there commitments that I could make this year which would be more satisfying and more rewarding? I believe there are.
Getting into that pair of over-priced skinny jeans obviously hasn't motivated me yet and I've never actually gotten to that point where a donut repulses me (is that even possible?). So, this year I'm resolving to work on areas of my life where I will reap greater, longer-lasting rewards. I'm starting with spending more focused time with my Lord. Care to join me?
If I'm to be successful in this endeavor, I have to stop making excuses and start telling myself the BIBLICAL truth. I've gotten pretty good at telling myself that God understands when I'm too tired to worship him privately. He knows my days. He knows that I race around like a deranged woman and that much of my day is spent doing His work--so surely, I get a pass. Right? No. Let's tell the truth.
 In his book, Radical, David Platt writes the following about the nice, middle-class American Jesus we've created:

A Jesus who doesn't mind materialism and who would never call us to give away everything we have. A Jesus who would not expect us to forsake our closest relationships so that he receives all our affection. A Jesus who is fine with nominal devotion that does not infringe on our comforts, because, after all he loves us just the way we are. A Jesus who wants us to be balanced, who wants us to avoid dangerous extremes, and who, for that matter wants us to avoid danger altogether. A Jesus who brings us comfort and prosperity as we live out our Christian spin on the American dream. (p.13).

God wants all of me and He won't settle for less. So, no, He doesn't understand when I have time to talk on the phone, watch tv, and have dinner with friends, and then claim exhaustion when it comes to spending intimate time in communion with Him. He's waiting to be with me. He wants to hear my prayers, my thoughts and fears. I want that too. I feel a constant nudging to spend more time with Him and to just come before Him, stripped down and bare. It's so freeing to say, "Here I am. I'm a mess. I know you love me. I know you will work with me and fashion beauty out of ugly."
I've been walking through some tough stuff this last year and seeing a lot of ugly. I can honestly say that I've never regretted spending time with God. I walk away with such a deep sense of His love for me and a calmness in my heart that assures me that all is well. Now that's time well spent.

So You Think You Can Blog?

Technology and I are just not friends. My cell phone is the cheapy and, therefore, the hopelessly uncool model. I don't know how to text. My friends tell me that I need a Garmin in my life, but I don't know who he/she is. I still can't load my own music onto my Nano (walkman iPod purchased for me by technologically savvy husband). I've never understood where my pictures actually go when they travel through the cord and arrive into the computer. And so now I think I can blog?
I've always been more of a pen and paper kind of girl. There's just something beautifully simple about a new pen and an unblemished piece of paper awaiting my thoughts.
And so, I've rejected the blog over and over again....until now. Let's face reality. As a thirty-something mother to three small children, I can usually only find a crayon and not a pen with which to write. Should I actually find time between the laundry and the lunch making, and the carpool, and the cleaning to sit down before a nice, new notebook--it ends up catching my drool as my face hits the desk in a total surrender to sleep. I am exhausted. But I have thoughts and stories to share. I want to keep a record of these crazy, exhausting days so that when I'm drooling for an entirely different reason, I can transport myself back to these mothering moments. And maybe, just maybe, my kids will want to read it. Maybe, just maybe, you'd like to read along too.
 So, why bother reading? Well, there will be those few high school friends who will want to log on and see if I've gained 100 pounds since 1995. There will be the relatives who are obligated to read a page here or there so we'll have something to talk about at Thanksgiving dinner (yes, Mom, I expect you to read! I'm your daughter for goodness sake!) My close friends will want to keep abreast of the constant excitement that is my life (sarcasm added). Hey, those are pretty good reasons to be honest. However, if you want an excellent reason to read well here it is:  I am a nobody trying to exalt somebody (as missionary Jim Eliot said). My whole life I have loved the Lord. Sometimes I haven't loved Him well. Most times I haven't loved Him above all else. Thankfully, His grip on me has always been tighter and surer than my grip on Him. This blog is about a sinner's struggle to glorify the only One deserving of  exaltation. He is worth reading about.
So I'm jumping in with both feet and looking forward to another year marvelling at God's goodness and faithfulness, and this time I'm going to type it down.  George Mueller writes, "The living God is with us, whose power never fails, whose arm never grows weary, whose wisdom is infinite and whose power is unchanging. Therefore today, tomorrow and next month, as long as life is continued, He will be our helper and friend. Still more, even as He is through all time, so will He be through all eternity." Happy 2011, fellow nobodies.