Dear Mom,

This year I sent you a card that said, "when I thank God for my blessings, I thank Him for You."

This is very true.  There have been many times when I have humbly thanked Him for loaning me to YOU specifically, as it has made me who I am today.  Today, I am mothering my own brood.  Because of your lasting impact on me, I realize (sometimes stifling under the overwhelming sense of it all), the lasting impact I will have on my own children----good or bad.

From you, I learned the importance of the presence of a "soft mom".  You were never a flashy, sensational, red-lipstick-and-short-skirt mom.  I never felt that I had to compete with you, because you were Mom and stayed there.  You didn't try to become my friend or my peer.  And you didn't expect me to be yours, either.  You were Mom and I was a child.  You were also an employee, a daughter, a sister.  But those worlds didn't collide with mine too much, because you didn't make it about "you".  I never felt like you were burdened by me or my needs.  You were just there.  You smelled good, you had a soft voice, kind hands, and gentle nature, even when we called you every single afternoon at Evenflo Products to see what time you would be home, knowing you would be home at the same time every day.  When I am tempted, so very often, to make my mothering journey about "ME". . . I remember you.  I remember that, although I am sure now you experienced fatigue and burnout beyond measure, I didn't hear that from you.  For that, I thank you.

From you, I learned to find joy in simplicity.  We loved, and still do, the thrill of a great thrift-store bargain.  We both enjoy old recipes, dark chocolate, ice cream eaten in the car, nature, taking a walk, standing back and looking at something we just weeded, cleaned, or organized.  We appreciate anything that can keep our hair out of our face, and clothes that don't need to be ironed.  We both scoff at the notion of being a millionaire and how we just still would not be able to bring ourselves to buy things at full-price.  We are generic groceries, generic children's vitamins, re-purposers, and dare I admit. . . washers of disposable cups and good "quality" plastic silver ware, which I swore ad nauseam I would never, ever do.  We are both Mom-Gyver, able to fix broken toys or toilet flappers with dental floss and a paper clip.  When I am tempted to grow discontented with my ever-so familiar surroundings of ancient linoleum and nude wallpaper, I think of you.  I think of how you grew up without the benefit of indoor plumbing or generous portions, and were able to find fun in working for all that you had.  I think of how you don't have a great need for new house-things, and how we lived in a tiny duplex with shag carpet covered with toys.  For that example, I am thankful.  God knew I would be in a spot where I would have to learn contentment, and I believe He used you to help cultivate that in me.

From you, I learned to find the weak and the wounded, and give them extra care.  I learned to spot out the old folks and hold doors, carry groceries to the car, and make small talk.  I learned to show special attention to the kids whose faces and clothes are the dirtiest.  I learned to be gracious to the awkward, and that the greatest humiliation was not for those caught being in the company of "undesirable" folks, but for those who treat the less fortunate with cruelty or indifference.  I learned to use cooking and baking as a means of showing comfort or care to neighbors. I watched you care for your mother with a special, thoughtful attentiveness.  I watched you care for your less-than gracious mother-in-law with infinite patience.   For this, I am thankful.  When I grow weary of those who need me so, I think of your example.  I think of how I can Just. Do. It. and do it without grumbling or complaining or worrying about what I "deserve".

From you, I learned that it is OK to be embarrassingly silly if it will evoke laughter from a child. Whether it was playing "Lady of Spain" on the accordion window fan, or telling super fast bedtime stories so we would finally GO TO SLEEP, I learned that Mom was fun.  I learned that puns are fantastic and that witty, sarcastic humor and a sense of rhyme can bring levity to nearly any situation, even when it involves cremated remains.  For this, I am thankful.  I am sort of the kid Pied piper, much like yourself, and when I do anything silly like you our kids always say, "you sound just like Nani."

So Mom, thank you.  Thank you for setting yourself aside for the betterment of me.  Thank you for teaching. . . by doing.  I love you and hope that you have a wonderful day, and I truly desire all of God's richest blessings for you!

Love,
Sandra

Judge not

Eggshells.

We were all on eggshells this morning.  Three of my children woke up on the wrong side of the continent and were doing their due diligence to disrupt the peaceful morning that I was determined to have.

This is becoming an all-too-familiar scene: out of diapers, out of potty training, and out of biting, I have entered, “bickering”.  Bickering, backbiting, and selfishness.  There are days that I feel like I could trade my blouse for a black and white striped shirt and blow a whistle all day long, calling foul after foul and assessing penalty after penalty.  I grow oh-so-weary of it.  I am sometimes weary of it before I even get out of bed!  The inmates are attempting a hostile takeover of the asylum, and I wrongfully at times feel powerless.  I reach for the referee outfit in reactionary posture, and forget that I am really the coach.

Today it was a Pharisee-fest.  I had four little Pharisees, tooting their own horns, calling out law violators, no one listening, not one sign of honest repentance in sight.  Any schedule progress had ceased. 

I didn’t just have Pharisees.  I had judges.

So we sat down to morning Bible story.  I am again, grateful and humble, and thankful that God meets me in the chaos.  He meets in real time, when I need Him, and when my kids need Him.  When I first  started doing Bible time with my kids, I believe that I was the one reaping the most benefit.  And while that feeling still holds true, I now can see that He is giving my children exactly what they need, too.

Although I wanted to pounce all over Philippians 4:8 because I had heard one too many “jerk!”’s and “it’s not fair!”s, and did talk about that with them later, the Spirit was gently nudging me over to Matthew, to the words of Jesus.  To “judge not”.

“Judge not, that ye be not judged.   For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.   And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?   Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?  Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.”--------Matthew 7:1-5

I had the opportunity to serve on jury duty in December of this past year.  A juror is able to hear all of the evidence.  She is educated in the requirements of the law, and the stipulations under which she can decide innocence or guilt. As a collective group, the jurors reach a verdict. They are expected to do so and are charged with deciding honestly and justly.   But the execution of punishment is up to the judge. 

Why?  Well, the judge has also heard all of the evidence.  There are additional facts in a case and facts about a defendant that judges have and jurors are not privy to. But probably most importantly, the judge is the expert in the law and what it requires as a penalty.

 

I can see behaviors in our world, and when supported by evidence and by knowledge of God’s commandments, can render a verdict.  But I am not the one to issue the penalty. 

God is a perfect judge.  He has intimate knowledge of each of us which we don’t have of ourselves.  He knows our motives, our weaknesses, our hurts and fears, our desires.  He knows where we have been, where we are, and where we are going.  He has a perfect, all-encompassing viewpoint of the circumstances of each and every person who has ever, or will, live. 

With a log in my own eye, my vision is distorted.  When I want to be the judge of my Christian brothers and sisters, I want to elevate myself to be like God.  Not only can I not see them fully or me fully, I have a huge log in my own eye: pride.  As long as that pride remains, I will never see clearly.  I will operate out of a distorted view of others, and will accomplish absolutely nothing for the Lord.  I will be as a “clanging brass or cymbal”, offensive to all and blind to my own hypocrisy.  I will not sow, and therefore will not reap.

And when I judge the world-----not  being a juror, but being a JUDGE------and executing  the punishment of not sharing the gospel because I feel like I  have been offended by their actions toward me, or just by their sin in general------how can I possibly be keeping His commandments?  “If ye love me,” He said, “keep my commandments.”  How can we follow the Great Commission as a judge?

No------we must follow it as a servant.  After all, we aren’t the ones who are being offended.  God is, and He is the one who wants us to go unto the broken and the sin-sick and share His love.  (I realize that Paul said that the saints shall judge the world, and shall judge angels, in 1 Corinthians 6.  But that “shall” tells us it is for a future time.)    

When my children judge one another by using cross words or other acts of retaliation, do you know who gets judged?  They do.  They are judged and punished  for their retaliatory deeds.  If they would worry about correcting their own character flaws, they would be happier, more humble, more grateful, and we would have a more peaceful, joyful day.  They would accomplish so much more by working together! 

Sisters, what would our churches look like if they were filled with servants of one another, instead of a Supreme Court?  How much love could we pour out onto this dying, desperate, hurting, sinful world?  How much more Jesus would they see?

I would love to tell you that the bickering ceased.  It did for a time, most of the day in fact.  We had an opportunity to confess the logs in our own eyes, myself included.  We went around the table and complimented one another, some begrudgingly, others willfully.

Sometimes as a mama I have to remind myself that I am mainly a servant, and not a judge all of the time.  I can judge my children’s behavior, and I am expected to and to act accordingly.  But the heart matters are left up to the Lord.  I inform, I train, and I pray for, but the work in their hearts is God’s work to do.  I have to trust that the wisdom they get from me, that I get from Him, will be like my Brussels sprout seeds-----buried deep, with all the right elements in place, but waiting on a whisper from Him to get moving.

Love to you all-----

Sandra

Book Review: "And It Was Beautiful"

I received  a copy of the book, And It Was Beautiful, by Kara Tippetts, in exchange for an unbiased review.

And It Was Beautiful  tells the story of the end of the life of Kara Tippetts, a 39-year-old pastor’s wife whose life was cut short by metastatic breast cancer.  The mother of four young children and friend to many valiantly battled breast cancer using conventional therapies in an attempt to live as long as she could.  This book chronicles much of that journey, as it is a compilation of her well-read blog, “Mundane Faithfulness”.  Although the story is a tragic one, it is not the tragedy that makes the story. 

Kara was a beautiful person.  I feel as though she and I would have been wonderful friends, and I am sure that I am not the only person who didn’t meet her in this life that holds that opinion.  You see, this story is one of triumph.  Not triumph over cancer, and not triumph over circumstances.  But triumph over SELF.  Kara truly did see the grace that God provided to her at every single twist and turn in her story.  And she so very often chose faith over fear.  She chose His goodness over her desires, and His plans over her time frame.  Her writings are a modern-day primer on suffering.  Kara's writing style is informal and conversational, while simultaneously holding much depth.  This book would make a great devotional-type read, particularly for those who are in the midst of suffering.  It is a humbling reality-check to our selfish natures.  It truly would be good for those who ask that age-old question, “But where is God in my suffering?”

Reading this book is a precise and particular reminder that He is right there, with outstretched arms of love, all of the time.  

http://litfusegroup.com/author/ktippetts 

Come Unto Me

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.---Matthew 11:28

I am coming, ever so slowly, out of a "Martha Season".

Each December I enter one.  I work and I bake and I clean and I shop and I wrap and I perfect all the details I possibly can and I don't want anyone ANYWHERE to feel left out so I do for them too and I agonize over spending money and meeting USPS shipping deadlines and neglecting my husband and then I get grouchy and my life spins out of my control and and and and. . . ..

Nearly 20 years of marriage.  Nearly 20 Christmases together.  Out of those, I have not Martha'd only one Christmas, when I had just rolled out of an RV the month prior nearly 3000 miles away from the only life I ever knew, and had to buy ornaments at the Goodwill. I don't remember what I bought or did for the holiday that year.  I just know that I wasn't exhausted or grouchy.   

The exhaustion and grouchiness are not the worst part of the Martha season. No, not even the strained relationships which I have to mend (husband), that's not the worst part. The worst part is neglecting and straining my relationship with Jesus. . . 

. . . .who I am supposed to be celebrating. 

Then, when the hustle and bustle is over and it is quiet, and yet I am still exhausted and even more grouchy, I slowly come to my senses and realize that, in giving away to everyone else, I have lost something.

My joy.

Oh, there were red flags. Warnings unheeded.  Up too late, no time made to really, seriously pray, physical exhaustion, falling back on unhealthy coping mechanisms, tongue a little too loose, getting all fired up by social and political issues, waking up annoyed at the tasks that lay ahead of me that day, snapping at my children, wrestling the leadership away from the hubby.

The Great Physician has a course of treatment for this.

"Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up."

"Draw nigh unto him, and he will draw nigh unto you."

"They that observe lying vanities forsake their own mercy."

There are times in this life where I know what to do. I have had to do it a lot. I have done this Martha-ing a lot.  I have always and forever struggled with being a doer on my own terms.  Isn't that what our sister struggled with?  She was trying, bless her heart, to serve the Lord.  Her way.  On her strength.

But even though I know what I need to do, I need God to help me do it.  So I asked Him to help humble me.  Soon it came----the feelings of lowness, sadness even, mourning my loss of fellowship with the Lord, needing to ask forgiveness for straying away, a burden that needed relief.  And so it was I found myself, finally, in my prayer spot, seeking His face.  Starting awkwardly, but starting, and just asking Him to give me what I needed, because I don't even know what I need, beyond the fact that I KNOW THAT HE HAS IT.

And oh sisters. . . .it came. Boy did it come!  Just love. . .washed over me in an overwhelming, all encompassing, all satisfying, never thirsting again fashion, leaving me crying out for more mercy, and Him loving me more, and me praising and thanking, and Him loving, and 

WOW that is AWESOME!  

Oh my goodness----there is nothing more we need in this life!  Nothing!  The next day I awoke, still struggling a bit until I prayed.  There I could honestly thank Him for the day ahead and feel that thanksgiving in my soul, thank Him for the job of motherhood and my children, pray sincerely for my husband's day, pray with a heartbreaking love for the brothers and sisters in my church, and for many of you good sisters reading this right now.  I have already seen the fruits of some of these prayers.

I could ask Him for a job to do, a person's life I could touch through Him, for the lost, for a fiery conviction of unrest and brokenness to rain down on those I love who need Him.  

Oh sister, do you need rest?  Do you need to know that "The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms"?    

His work for us is that we trust and obey.  Trust Him----with our time, our commitments, our schedules, our budgets, by making our alone time with Him a priority-----and obey His word, in study, in prayer. . . 

In repentance.

In behavior changes.

In thanksgiving and praise.

In the specific job that He gives us.  Not the ones we think He has given us, or the ones we think we need to do for Him.  

In digging deeper in His word in study, and allowing the Spirit to reveal more of His beauty to us.

"Is there no balm in Gilead; is there no physician there? why then is not the health of the daughter of my people recovered?"---Jeremiah 8:22

Sister, He is the best father we could ever ask for.  He loves you and desires your fellowship.

You are loved,  and your prayers for me are appreciated.

Sandra :)

Homeschool Evolution

Hello friends.  I feel like I need to take a moment and update you on our home school journey.

P.S.  We are very normal people with very normal sins of pride, selfishness, and lack of patience, to just give you the tip of the iceberg.  This blog is so not about "look at my awesome kids".  No no no no no no no.  NO.  This blog is so not about "I home school and you don't, nanny nanny boo boo."  No no NO NO NO!  THIS BLOG is about "THANK YOU JESUS"!!!  To Him be ALL honor and glory and praise.  It his only by HIM that any of my life is possible. And by Him you can home school or continue to home school.  Thanks!

I began home schooling in 2009 when my oldest began kindergarten. Prior to this he attended a public preschool for special needs children.  I have many, many reasons for home schooling but suffice it to say, the main reason I still continue to home school is because I feel that it is my God-given responsibility to do so.  Truly.  I began inquiring of the Lord as to what I needed to do for my children, and home schooling was the answer.  I don't believe home schooling is what God would require everyone to do.  But I do very strongly feel that if more people diligently searched out what God would have them to do, and were willing, there would be more people who do it.  I think it is something that is just sort of a "given"----that our country has free education, and we pay taxes, and there is a yellow bus that goes by the house, so we send our kids to school.  I think that as a parent, one must be heavily involved in their child's education, whether or not that is at home or at school.  I do think that it is an avenue worth exploring by foot while praying, not just by bus.

I want to thank God Almighty for His gift of wisdom, for His grace, and His longsuffering and gentle patience with me in home schooling.  Home schooling has brought me to the very end of myself.  I will at times throw myself on my "prayer couch" in the living room and complain like a child told to clean their room, and yet He is there to encourage and to enlighten over and over and over again, never wearying or faltering in His devotion to me.  When I mention that I home school I inevitably hear, "I don't have the patience to do that", or "other kids listen to me, but mine won't".  I try to explain as much as possible that I don't have patience either, and that my children are often too familiar with me to hold their steadfast attention.  But home schooling is the very vehicle that God has used to cultivate patience in me.  Just like stretching tight hamstrings, my being persistent while methodically being patient toward my children in an attempt to foster learning has made me much more "flexible" in dealing with them.  I feel that my children have a level of respect for me because I am their teacher and because I insist upon their best, not in spite of it.  It is helping them stretch a bit too: their self will is to push against, but when they voluntarily submit to a loving, patient mama that is TRULY only able to be such by the grace of God (and I am not ever that enough), they are learning humility and respect for authority, even in the familiar comforts of home.  That is golden.  That is GOD at work, friends.

I want this to be a hope and encouragement to those of you beginning home schooling with little ones.  I can remember the year my youngest was born.  I was high-risk pregnant, home schooling a 5 year old on the autism spectrum, a 4 year old who resisted my every request, and a two year old who was being potty trained and trying to write on so many vertical places in our home. My husband was pastoring and working 50-60 hours a week at his secular job. The next year my baby would be awake more and crawling, the two year old was in the terrible threes, and the 5 and 6 year old were learning basic skills that required much one-on-one time.  I will spare you any more gory details of those years.

From November to June of last year I lived in 3 residences, the biggest move being from Ohio to Oregon.  I also had a 3 year old who was still very much 3 years old in all things attention span.  It has been hard, but soooooo good!

Just this year, I am starting to see the fruits of my labor, which belong to my Jesus who made it all possible.  My big boys are much more "in charge" of their learning.  I love to teach.  I am a teacher at heart and in every single professional position I have ever held, I was a teacher in some capacity.  Often an unconventional one at that, teaching mostly adults or children who had many obstacles to overcome.  So I still get to teach history and science, and work one on one with each one on particular subjects.  But I can hand them a planner with the following on it:  Exercise, chores, Bible reading, science, grammar, math, spelling, independent reading and writing (and all of these have specific assignments or reading, or both)-------and they will just DO IT. They are learning to be independent learners, and that they are heavily involved in their own education process.  They are learning work before play, and play has taken on a new definition for them; less electronics, and way more playing together, or leisurely reading.

My reluctant daughter, who is a very hard worker when she has a job to do but detests seat work, is reaping her accomplishments and her attitude toward the whole process is shifting.  My littlest guy is very engaged this year, seeming to mature leaps and bounds over just 3 months ago.

In short, I am seeing this work, this struggle, this laying down of myself and my former lifestyle----I am seeing it WORK.  Because it WORKS!  I already knew how it was working in me, when I let it.  It was eroding my will, revealing my weaknesses, forcing me to go to the Lord for help, requiring that I dig in and do the hard stuff, helping me lay aside wants and desires that aren't important.  Oh I have so very, very far to go!  But I have come along more than I did before.

But I didn't really "see" where it was helping and shaping and changing my kids. . . until NOW.  I could see glimmers and glimpses here and there, but now I can SEE.  My boys are growing up, taking on their own responsibilities, and are learning self-sufficiency.  They are seeing the differences in themselves and those around them, and how what Jason and I are so feebly trying to teach them----to trust God and His ways and what that actually looks like in the day to day---------works and is true.  When my daughter comes along side me in the kitchen and cleans up after lunch and helps get supper going and does dishes with me, she looks at me differently.  She values what I do and wants to do it herself.  I am not a maid taking care of the place, and my husband is not a wallet that makes toy store dreams come true, but we are overseers training kids to "do" adulthood. Wow.  There is no place I would rather be.

He gives us spiritual blessings and when we have those we forget about this tempting world around us.  When we hone in on those blessings, the spiritual implications in our work as keepers at home, and trainers of children. . . there is a deep satisfaction.  He said the virtuous woman should be given the fruit of her hands.  I certainly don't feel like I am that woman, but I long to be.  How wonderful to begin to see the fruit that I hope to lay at His feet!

I leave you with this, friends:  "And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not."  Galatians 6:9.  Faint not, mamas.  When it gets hard and ugly, cry out to Jesus. He is an ever present help in times of trouble, and His light will shine on the problems and He WILL give you answers on how to help your kids, your husband, yourself.  Your very crying out to Him is teaching your kids that "when I get in trouble I go to mama, but when mama gets in trouble she goes to Jesus."

You are loved------
Sandra

Running with Patience

Yesterday was not a good day in home school.

But even on not good days, at least one person learns something.  That person is usually ME.

Something I truly hope that you all realize about me is that, most often, when I blog it is in response to an admonishment I have received.  It is sort of a letter to myself.  For you, it is like looking into my house at night----shades open, lights on, seeing me in my private thoughts.  I have never wanted to be one of those mommy bloggers who have it all figured out, or have it all together, because that could not be further from the truth about me.  I have wanted, deeply, to be an encourager.  And I suppose to be an encourager, you must be a person who has needed encouragement, because of mistakes or circumstances or both.  

I write because I was created that way.  Writing helps me process out the very deep feelings I have on things, things that for some reason can't stay "in there" for me.  Maybe they can for you, but they can't for me.  I have found that when I try to keep feelings in I pay consequences physically. And as to why they come out better on a keyboard I have no idea at all.  But they do.

As most of you know, I have been a home schooling parent for nearly 5 years now.  I have four children, and we are in the "even years":  4, 6, 8, and 10.  My oldest son has special needs, my other son is probably gifted, and two of my other children appear to be "normal", whatever that is.   This dynamic makes for an interesting home school experience:  one child barely treads water, and the next one is diving.  Two others are in the wading pool.  And I am at the pool by myself, or so it seems, trying to help all of them learn to swim at the same time.  The pool is loud, and the water is too cold some days, someone is almost always splashing water on me, or someone has to pee.  But for 5 years now, I have tried to teach "swimming". I have hung in there, I have sacrificed, I have worked hard.  After all, I couldn't love my students more fiercely than I do.  The drive to succeed is high.  If I succeed, we ALL succeed. And if I fail. . . . 

Today I realized that I have failed at running with patience.

We are working on math with our oldest two at just about the same level. I cannot tell you how difficult it can be to try to reach, or teach, a child with autism.  Even a very high functioning, obedient, sweet, wonderful child with autism.  It is so difficult.  It is like speaking English to someone who learned English as a second language----at 84.  I find myself constantly attempting to crawl inside that beautiful head of his, trying to squint through his eyes and see the subject like he does.  It is teaching and interpreting at the same time.  And it is exhausting.  Not just math, either.  But every single subject is afflicted by large pockets of missing information---information I have presented over and over----and yet there are pockets with rich, amazing, staggering knowledge.  Knowledge that I have no earthly idea of how it got there.  I told my husband that it is like "fracking"----digging down way deep to pockets of valuable material.  If I could only figure out how to get it to come to the surface!

When I realized that our son was on the autism spectrum, I knew I would have to fight.  I would fight schools, physicians, therapists, insurance companies, government programs, etc.  Oh, the fighting!  I would fight to do the right thing by him, in spite of the "hard".  I would fight over temper tantrums and meltdowns at the store and bad behavior and I was determined to win.  I don't like to fight.  But there is a fight in me, a fire, to fight for this child, and I know God gave it to me. I know that He made him for a reason, a purpose, and even if I never get to see that fully come to fruition, it still won't matter because He knows why. 

I didn't realize I would have to fight me.

The Hebrew writer said in Hebrews 12:1 that 

Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us,

The race of my life---being a wife, mother, teacher, church member---- has been set before me by my Savior who has numbered my days, who knows the exact mileage and terrain of the course. When the running-----my life----gets hard, it is a red flag that I am not running right.  All of the ways of not running right are in this verse. 

I ran cross country in high school and for one season in college.  And oh how much better I can understand a running analogy because of that. 

God tells us in this passage that to run successfully, we need to

Lay aside every weight:  We need to regularly take our burdens, our heart weights, to the Lord.  That means prayer----real, true prayer, where I know He heard me because He met me there, and fellowshipped with me, and blessed me with His presence, so that I might have His sweet peace.  For me, this can come quickly should God bless me that way, and sometimes I have to make an effort at prayer over a period of time before He meets with me.  Either way, it is my responsibility to make true prayer time a priority. We also need to drop off priorities that slow us down in our race.

And the sin which doth so easily beset us:  We have a choice, sisters, to stay in our sin---those things that God shows us we need to refrain from----or to sever it from our lives. Your sin could be anger, a sharp tongue, covetousness, laziness, or any number of works of the flesh, but in order to run, we must drop these things.  It was a lot easier to run years ago when I maintained good habits on a daily basis.  Now it would be more difficult, as my diet and daily activity do not equate to the physique of a runner.  To be successful I would have to make some practical changes.  Well, to be successful in our race, we must make practical changes in the way we live.  I find so often that once I pray about these sins in my flesh, the Lord will make me more aware of them just before I am about to do something I shouldn't so that I might "nip them in the bud". He helps me to see what I am about to do, so that I don't.

And let us run with patience:  In cross country I got the privilege to run some beautiful courses. 

There were times as an adult I would get to visit and hike a course that we ran, and I was always amazed at the beauty there that I couldn't see when I was huffing and puffing and nearly weeping, dragging myself up the hill.  I thought of what made those courses so hard back then in my early days of running.  It was my emotional response.

When I finally had some practice with hard courses under my belt, enough to realize that it was only a short 20 minutes or so to rest, I stopped freaking out so much during the course. When I saw a hill, I did the best I could.  I took one piece of the hill at a time---sometimes just concentrating on one step at a time----until I could get to the top.  Because once I reached the top, I could usually coast down hill, swiftly, nearly effortlessly, and have the opportunity to look about and enjoy the scenery.  

Oh sisters, how I fail at this! So often I run my race in a panic, not able to see past this moment.  I get overwhelmed by the task before me.  And what happens when that happens?  A painful fact to admit.  The scenery isn't so beautiful. In fact, it becomes an adversity to me, almost an enemy.  

My very blessings. . . I start to see as hardships.  Rather than the hill being an accomplishment to celebrate, it becomes a mountain I want to avoid.  And on my last math day, I was tempted to avoid that mountain.  To just travel around it----maybe he would never learn fractions at all.  What was the point?

I was tempted to just give up, to quit fighting for his learning.  Not entirely, just on that point----but I was not born yesterday, and I know how this temptation thing works a little bit.  All it takes is a little give here, and a little give there, and pretty soon,

you stop fighting.  

I didn't realize how hard my course would be sometimes. I know that there are much, much harder courses.  I know that some of you are on the Swiss Alps right now, facing circumstances that make my race rightfully look like a mole hill, and oh how my heart goes out to you!

But sisters, no matter the hill you are on;

Home School Hill, 

Toddler Tantrum Volcano,

Co-Worker Canyon,

Grouchy Spouse Summit,

Caregiver Pinnacle,

run with patience. After all, the beginning of that verse says, "wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses. . . "

You know who is my great cloud of witnesses right now?  The people who make up my scenery----my children.  My church family, the lost all around me----

They are watching me run. I learned today that I CAN get up this big old hill in front of me.  But I have to run with patience, for I am my own worst enemy.  

We have the author and finisher of our faith at the finish line, cheering for us.  He stands ready to help, to encourage, and to comfort.  "Run with patience".  Don't let your emotions rule your spirit.  We have a sure hope, a steady anchor, a rock on which we stand, and a God who left the Comforter to give direction and aid to us----who has promised that if we do things His way, we will succeed.  Have confidence, not in yourself, but in the Master Designer of your race. 

If we seek to run our race with patience to the pleasing of the one at the finish line, sisters----what a peaceful, beautiful, lovely course we will run.  We can truly have joy in our journeys.

You are all loved this day.

 Sandra

 

 

50 Charades----part 2

charade: (n) an absurd pretense intended to create a pleasant or respectable appearance.

In 2011, author E.L. James unleashed a firestorm with the first book in the “Fifty Shades of Grey” trilogy.   Selling over 60 million copies, the book was #1 on the New York Times’ bestseller list. 

These books have been met with both support and criticism.  Supporters claim that this is a harmless way to explore new territory for women and is liberating.  Supporters also insinuate that critics are prudes and are denying their own sense of lust.  Critics are often “Church Lady” types, disgusted and pointing a finger at those who partake in the reading of this book as unclean lepers, decrying the sinful degree to which one must stoop to read it. 

I quite frankly am weary of hearing both of those points.  For me, I see this a little bit differently. 

If you haven’t read “50 Charades, part 1”, you will probably find it helpful to stop now and read, as you will need the vignettes found there to understand my explanation.

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So what was I trying to say with the vignette of Couple One and Couple Two?

In the examples of Couple One and Couple Two, they are each eating a meal.  And that meal is representative of. . . . 

Intimacy.  Defined as, “close familiarity or fellowship; nearness in friendship”, and in this context, also including a physically intimate relationship.

Couple One is a marriage that has been touched by pornography first brought in by the husband. 

Pornography is EVERYWHERE.  It is at the grocery checkout and on the highway billboard and in the advertisements for clothes.  It is in the box scores of the paper.  It is online, anonymous, and plentiful.  It is on TV commercials.  We are all bombarded by images of pornography.

When a woman has a husband who chooses to view pornography, she is like the wife in Couple One.  She has prepared and adorned herself to the best of her ability to provide intimacy.  She is sure that she isn’t the best thing out there and she is often times keenly aware she is no supermodel, but she looks at herself as a gift to her husband.  And she is.

Pornography is a charade.  

When a man brings pornography into his family, the charade says that it doesn’t hurt anyone and that it can spice up your marriage, thereby improving it, and that it is OK.  In reality it hurts both of you and is the enemy of intimacy.  It wounds your wife by bringing a competitor into the most private, vulnerable, and least confident of areas, and results in bitterness:  she is powerless to fight against a nameless, ever changing, virtual enemy.  She feels unloved, disrespected, and uncherished.  It pushes her away to a place where she begins to feel her own need for external intimacy.

Which brings me to the book.

In response, the wife runs to her own pornography:  literature.  Literature differs in that it is relational and the reader is sharing an experience with the character, which is why it is a successful tool against women, who are by design more relational. 

God created Eve to be the helper of Adam, and after their sin He stated of Eve, and all subsequent women; “her desire shall be unto her husband”. Women want the approval of their husbands.  The reward of the Virtuous Woman spoken of in Proverbs 31 is that she would be rewarded in this manner:  “give her the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates.” She has a desire to be well spoken of by her husband.  We may not want to do things his way all the time or even MOST of the time, but we all seek and need his approval, much like as children, and sometimes adults, we seek and need our father’s approval. 

When a man sets the tone that, in order to have intimacy, you must seek the need for yourself in other things------well, he is leading his wife to do the same.

Why are we so surprised at this phenomenon of women wanting to read books like this?  We shouldn’t be.  They depict a relationship where a man is fiercely, and abusively, engaged with his lover in all aspects of her existence.  This book is male attention on steroids. 

Do you know how many husbands I have met whose week consists of going to work (maybe), drinking with the guys, and playing video games into the wee hours of the morning, and viewing pornography?    That is just the icing on the great big old cake of loneliness that his wife is eating each and every day.  Finally she gives up the fight, and starts following his lead:  by having that need for intimacy met elsewhere.  

She finds it in friends and social time and books that provoke the senses.  She shuts down to her husband, and they lose intimacy----not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too.  When they do come together-----physically or otherwise-----they may both be engaged, but are partaking as separate. 

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But dear reader, oh it was never ever intended to be like that!  God never designed marriage to be two lonely people coexisting, scrambling in an unintended selfishness to get needs met.  God is love-----He is true, patient, longsuffering, promise keeping, unfailing, head-over-heels, know you to the very number of hairs on your head, LOVE.  Marriage is to be a reflection of that love.   

He gave us the gift of intimacy to be fully enjoyed in that capacity, in the context of a promise as husband and wife, mutually; physically and otherwise.  This is why His word speaks against fornication, adultery, and homosexuality---they are self-serving types of love.  A selfless type of love, where each person seeks only the best for each other to a great degree of sacrifice-----to the point of daily laying down each desire, big and small, to the benefit of the other---- is what marriage should look like.  

The Song of Solomon in the Old Testament is a book that makes people squirm in church when the preacher says to turn to it.  It is a very descriptive narrative of the love that Christ has for His church, but it is written as woman speaking of “my beloved” and the husband speaking of her.  It is very descriptive in the love each has for the other, but two things I love about it----

The bride calls her beloved, among other things, “my friend”.

The espoused husband calls his bride, “my sister, my spouse”. 

 They love each other way beyond physical intimacy.

Now-----what a lot of the bestsellers in Christian bookstores say is, “there is hope for your marriage.  Look at how awesome it can be!  It can be all fulfilling and perfect!”

Which is a big, fat half-truth.

Is there hope for your marriage?  Absolutely, in Jesus there is, and in doing things His way.  But is there ultimate fulfillment in marriage?

Nope. Not by a long shot.

But there IS ultimate fulfillment in Jesus! Listen to the bride describing how she met “her Beloved”:      

By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.

I will rise now, and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.  The watchmen that go about the city found me: to whom I said, Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?  It was but a little that I passed from them, but I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go, until I had brought him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.-----Song of Solomon 3:1-4

Oh dear reader, I too have found Him whom my soul loveth!  In June of 1995 I sought for Him by my bedside too.  I had tried for years to find Him in the broad ways of works, and religion, and a profession of the mouth.  But I found Him not----until I heard some watchmen who pointed me to repentance.  When I humbled myself before Him and abased my pride and confessed my utter wretchedness before my King of Kings-----oh, then I FOUND Him whom my soul loveth!  And I would not let Him go, and I have feebly and very poorly tried to take the message of My Beloved to those I love.  

Because my Beloved loved me enough to make me His----I can love my husband like He does me.  I don’t love as I should most of the time, but I AM able because HE is able, and when I rely on Him I do.

Which is what is on my heart.

Those who profess Christianity may or may not really know this Beloved.  I can say I know who LeBron James is but this is useless if he doesn’t know me.  But a true child of God, who Jesus  knows through true salvation----should realize that we are not above ANY TEMPTATION.  I want to educate, not hate.  I want to speak God’s truth in full----not just in judgment, but in love, so that my friends might be pointed to JESUS, the “author and finisher of our faith”. It isn’t in my own strength that I avoid temptation, but in HIS.  I realized a long time ago that I myself am, as they say, “a hot mess”.  

Friends, if I could give you anything, I would give you a taste of Jesus.  My heart’s desire is that you come to intimately be loved by Jesus, who knows you and created you. I long for you to know Him, to have your delight in Him.  To be deeply known and loved in the soul----not your mind or heart, but your soul-- a place that lies dormant until Jesus passes through.  I pray your desire is to find Him, that He may be your beloved.   

Love to you all this fine day----

Sandra