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.

                                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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

50 Charades------part 1

Couple One:

The table was set in the very best she had; matching plates registered for eight months before, stylish yet sensible.  The glasses had only been used twice since their wedding day and now elegantly stood tall, proudly showing off a wonderful hand squeezed lemonade.  Atop the table was a loaf of homemade bread, not particularly Amish smooth but soft and warm none the less.  She could still feel a slight strain in her forearms as it took her quite some time to knead, and a slow, sly smile came to her lips.  She couldn’t wait until he finally arrived home from work. 

She pulled the ribs off the grill, and while they were tender they bore a few charred lines here and there, which disappointed her greatly.  She started to despair inside like a little child who had been denied, but then heard tires in the gravel.  She quickly removed her apron, and looking at her reflection in the patio door tucked a stray wheat-colored lock behind her ear.  Slightly nervous, she went to the door.

She opened it, and her heart sank.  Her husband came home with BBQ stains on his mouth, carrying a Styrofoam take-out box.

“Hey honey, wow did I have a day!  We were super busy, and I know you called me, but. .. “

Finally stopping to look at her, he was perplexed by the expression on her face. 

“Oh, yeah. . . yeah I know we were supposed to have a nice dinner in tonight.  But you’ll never BELIEVE my luck!  I got the chance to eat at the new BBQ place in town, and it was just awesome.  And I know that you made ribs tonight, and they’re always pretty decent, you know----- but these. . . . these just do something crazy to me.  They are the absolute best I have ever tasted. I’ll probably be hungry later----can you just heat them up for me in a few hours?”

                                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Week after week, her hard worked dinners were met with a Styrofoam take out box.  First it was the new BBQ place, then a burger joint, then a pizza place; then any new place in town.  And week after week, her meal was consumed in a mirthless quiet, until that gave way to a deep bitterness.

                                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One evening her husband had come home early, and in an effort to surprise his wife he had picked up dinner from the only place they usually went to together.  He set the table and read the news until she came home. 

“Hey honey!  Hey I wanted to surprise you tonight with our favorite place!  So I picked it up on the way home-----“

“Oh.  Thanks.  I’m not hungry.”

“Really?  Why?  I figured you would love this. . . .”

“Well, to be honest, I am kind of tired of that.  So I stopped in for a spicy sushi roll from the new place in town.  You wouldn’t believe how awesome it is!  The atmosphere is really a lot of fun----my friends and I have been meeting there a lot.  It is the best fun I have had in ages!  We dance and laugh and just talk and have a great time together.”

Sometimes the couple would eat together-----he would eat his meal and she would eat hers, in the same room together, but never the same meal.  The rift grew a little bigger each week.

Couple Two:

Wiping the sweaty, sticky hair from her forehead, Allyson put the firmly frozen pizza in the oven.  “It’s amazing how long these suckers take to bake!”, she said, consulting the box.  She had spent most of the day dealing with sick children in this summer heat, and she surely didn’t have much to show for it. 

She managed to pick up the living room a bit because she knew that Will would be home soon.  She knew that was important to him.  He worked such long hours at the machine shop to make a way for her and the kids that he deserved a little order and peace when he came home.  She went to the door and opened it, mustering up all the cheerfulness she could find.

Will saw his sweet wife in the doorway.  “My goodness, she looks like she’s had a day”, he thought to himself.  Allyson was such a hard worker, so thoughtful toward him and the children and to others. She deserved a little rest when he came home, so he intended to read books to his sick little ones so she could have some time of her own. 

After quick kisses Will asked about dinner. She apologetically told him that it was just a frozen pizza----nothing fancy, and certainly not what she wanted to serve.  She knew there were so many better pizzas out there to be eating, but she gave the very best she had that day. 

Will was so happy to have that pizza with his wife.  There were many other places to get a better tasting pizza, but no one in the world had made a pizza just for him.  .  .except Allyson.  And no man had worked hard for her that day . . . except Will.  They were thankful for the meal they shared together, which could have just as well been filet mignon, for the companionship was the true delight.  They ate side by side, enjoying the pizza, fully engaged with one another, eyes sparkling and both laughing and sharing about their day, the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me.----Solomon 7: 10

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: he feedeth among the lilies.----Solomon 6:3

His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.-----Solomon 5:16

Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.-----Solomon 4:7

Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck. How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love than wine! and the smell of thine ointments than all spices!-------Solomon 4:9-10

The Lawman

My childhood super hero is retiring today.

I can remember as a very little girl when my handsome daddy would be getting ready for work. He would sling on his heavy, wide black belt with the various sized pouches on it just before he left for the evening.  When it was off and sitting on the table I would latch and unlatch the "keepers", little black loops for keeping things on the belt, apparently.  I would marvel at the weight of the mag light, and couldn't understand why it needed to be so much heavier than our household plastic flashlight.  I never could figure out how a night stick could actually be a weapon.  And the .357 Magnum was more of a paperweight than anything else to me.  Taught with firm discipline that it was not a toy, I was a child who was surrounded by firearms and was never tempted to use them. I still am not.

If I was able to be awake when he left for the midnight shift, I would hug my daddy tight around the neck, kiss his smooth cheek, deeply breathe in his cologne, and think about how handsome he was in his uniform with his dark hair.  Even as a young girl I could grasp that in his line of work there was a chance that he wouldn't be coming back home.  I told myself that the heavy bullet proof vest he wore, which I would throw on my skinny shoulders and parade around the living room each time I could, was like Captain America's shield, able to protect in all circumstances.

My daddy, in my mind, was 10 feet tall.  After all, when your daddy is a cop, he is the one everyone else calls when they are in trouble.  He was called on duty, and off duty----to help break up domestic skirmishes among the neighbors, or the time there was a peeping tom in the neighborhood.  He had really cool places to take us, like when we got to go to the courthouse and ride in the elevator, or to the county fair when he directed traffic, or for rides in the Crown Vic.  It seemed we always had friends with German shepherd dogs, and we had them too.  We knew the clerks in the convenience stores by name, and listened to a scanner at home.  We had lots of cops that were friends----most good, a few bad, and a few somewhere in between. 

As I got older and my dad got more experienced, he moved up to different positions, culminating as a police chief.  But no matter where he was working or what he was doing, being a cop continued to touch our lives.  There were times the job or the pager interrupted family activities.  There were long, long hours that would stretch into nearly days sometimes, whenever a substantial crime was first committed. 

Perhaps the most pressing thing is the interruptions I didn't see.  Being a cop, or a soldier, or anyone else who deals with the basest of human behaviors, touches places inside that most of us don't have to visit very often.  It changes your world view of humanity.  It causes a silent, secret tap dance inside between the reality of the workplace and the reality of home.   

This is what other families don't see.  They don't see Superman coming home after a long day of dealing with sinful shenanigans, only to change out of the cape and into Clark Kent's suit to pretend  the job was just another day at the Daily News.  They don't see the up close evil in the day to day, the cruel and hard ways in which people deal with one another.  Other families can live in relative normalcy, assuming that bad things happen to other people-----when the super hero's experience tells him that in the blink of an eye, we can all be the other people.

So it seems strange that, after being a cop, a detective, a captain, an investigator, working for the coroner, and finally, pasturing out at a bailiff (haha!)----my dad is retiring.  For the first time in my lifetime, my dad will have the chance to be like everyone else.  And I hope that he enjoys it to the very fullest.

Dad, thank you so very, very much, for the hard work and sacrifice you have made for me.  For providing for me through multiple jobs at a time, and for doing it in such a taxing way.  I am so very proud of the service you have provided to your community; for helping others in their most despairing moments with little thankfulness, but I thank God for giving you to me.  I hope you have a wonderful day today and rather than send you some cheesy gift, I will send you what ends every Superman's career.

Kryptonite.  Not in the form of a donut, but in the form of an entirely different cheesy gift---

You can pick up your double anchovy pizza tonight after work from Guido's. 

Love,
Sandra :)

Laundry Soap

Hello ladies (and fellows, if you are reading this)!

I want you to know, that both as a blogger and as a person, I never want to put something in my blog that makes me look like I have it "all together".  You know the blogs----the cutesy, flowery ones where the moms are confessing some terrible humble brag about something like, "sometimes when I clean out the van, I am so embarrassed--- today I found ONE french fry under the car seat".  Or maybe, "I must confess that this year I only made 5 quilts, since I am busy making cheese, roofing the house with synthetic shingles the children created with rocks and Play-do in our home school engineering class, and making sure that I have ironed all the socks.  Remember, the ones that I hand-knitted, not while watching TV, but while I was watching my children put on a spontaneous musical adaptation of 'War and Peace'?" Ugh.

My friends, I am a student of life.  I am learning who I am, what I struggle with, and how to try to rule over my flesh every. Single. Day.  As a mother, a wife, a friend, a daughter, and most importantly, a child of God, I fail a lot; but God is so good to patiently teach and instruct me.  That is what I want my blog to be about:  how God has put me on this adventure, and what He is teaching me, and how absolutely, wonderfully awesome He is.

This is precisely why I don't share a lot of "how to" things.  I usually wait for someone to ask me, and then I share in person.  Because I don't want to be that "Ugh" person.

Well, today I want to share something with you that I have been doing now since about 2010, if I am not mistaken.  It has saved me hundreds of dollars and countless trips to the store. And it truly takes about 10 minutes to do, once every four to six months:

I make my own laundry soap.

I remember when I first read an article in our local paper about someone doing this.  "What?!?  She does. . . WHAT?!?"  The woman may as well been making ricin or Spam.  I thought, "Can you really DO THAT?"  Well, why couldn't you do it?

I don't know what I was afraid of.  I mean, I am hardly a professional laundress.  We have a laundry checklist: 1.  Is it clean?  2. Is it dry?  3. Is it not too embarrassingly wrinkled to wear it in public?  Three yes's and we are ready to go out.

But making my own detergent was sort of going rogue.  I was a Rebel at Home.  It was a way to, well, stick it to the man.  I felt like I was sitting on some big enormous secret.  Psssst-----hey!  You there!  The one hauling out your 55 gallon drum of Tide that cost $700 from Sam's Club.  Do you know what I can do?  And can you find your receipt you just crammed in your purse before you get to the lady at the door with the marker?  I felt a little Amish. I felt like if there was a zombie apocalypse, that my family would be the only one in clean clothes.  I'm sort of a laundry doomsday prepper:  if the nation's economy ever shut down and the stores were empty. . . well, we could trade laundry detergent for some rice and beans!

A woman who is a keeper at home may be doing many manual tasks with her hands, but don't be fooled:  our brains are moving a hundred miles an hour.  We are CEO's of our households and are always looking to lower that bottom line because, after all, that is what keeps flavored coffee creamer in the fridge.

And truly, seriously-----I think that a lot of mama's out there could reduce their work hours by living a thriftier lifestyle.  I would highly suggest to read a "Little House" book.  Reading those helped me to see that out on the prairie, joy was found in WORKING.  Not at Target with Starbucks in the hand, strolling for hours.  And yes, I am sure there were times that Ma wanted to run Pa, still wearing his shirt, through a wringer washer because he went hunting all day and left her there with kids that only had 2 toys between them, but there was still joy in just doing a hard day's work. The Lord started to show me that I have trouble feeling satisfied with a simple lifestyle and that I crave distractions, and while it is something I have grown in, I still have a long way to go.  If we could find our joy in tasks rather than in goods, we wouldn't have as much leisure time for entertainment and we wouldn't buy as many things.  And more women could stay home a little more. I fear for our nation as a whole, as we have become so very dependent upon entertainment to get us through our discontented, busy, soft, and unnecessarily stressful lives.  

So, someone inquired of this laundry "elixir", and I thought, "I am going to tell the whole world about my laundry soap!!!!  With pictures!!!"  Just in case you are too skeerd to try it.

So enough rambling.  On to the soap!

1.  You need the following:

• 5 gallon bucket
• Empty, clean, 1 gallon milk jug
• Cooking pot dedicated for laundry soap only----I got mine at Goodwill
• Cheese grater
• Long stick, like a yardstick, 5-gallon paint stirring stick, or just a plain old stick.
• 1 box of Arm & Hammer washing soda, which on walmart.com is $3.24 for 55 ounces
• 1 box of 20 Mule Team Borax, on walmart.com for $7.70 for 76 ounces
• 1 bar of Fels-Naptha soap, at walmart stores for $1.00
• One cup measuring cup 

What you need to get started.

STEP ONE: 
   Unwrap the Fels-Naptha, which is an old school laundry soap.  You may use other soaps for fragrance, etc., but Fels has a great reputation as a degreaser.  You will then grate the soap as pictured by my lovely model below.  It will look like cheddar cheese.  Keep all husbands and male children out of the kitchen and do not leave the faux shredded cheese unattended.  Trust me.  (Some people also use their food processors to grind up the soap, therefore limiting the amount of knuckle present in the final product.)

If she can do it, so can you!

Can you see why they eat it?

STEP 2:
It is time to cook the Fels.   Put the shredded soap in the pot and add 1/2 of a gallon of water.  You don't have to be exact, you just need to eyeball it.  Turn it on low and stir (with stick) until it is melted.  You don't want to boil this.

STEP 3:
Fill your bucket with 3 gallons of lukewarm water.  Don't use cold.  It will cause the soap to "set up" really fast.  Pour 1 CUP of washing soda and 1 CUP of borax into the bucket, and stir with the stick.  Be careful with these powders.  It's kind of like making Kool Aid, as in it is easy to inhale accidentally, so you should hold your breath when pouring it out.  Mix it until it is dissolved.

STEP 4: 
Gently pour the contents of the pot (the Fels)  INTO the bucket and stir.  Your soap will congeal a bit, typically by the next day but sometimes before.  It is perfectly OK to use the soap as soon as you make it.  You will either need to stir it before using if the gel-like consistency grosses you out, or you can just use it straight in there.  After significant self-talk, I can now use it straight in. 

Finished product, before it congeals.

 

 

 

 

 

Congratulations!!  You just made detergent!!  Cover your bucket with a lid, keep it up high from little people, and you can use it immediately. 

FAQ'S: 
1.  How much do I use in a large load?  1 cup for top loading machines, 1/4 cup for front loading machines.
2.  Will this hurt my machine?  I don't think so, but you'd have to ask it.  It hasn't bothered mine and I have had both machines.
3.  Does it sud? No.  Which is awesome because you can use it in a front loading machine, and you DON'T NEED FABRIC SOFTENER.  At all.  Not even a dryer sheet. 
4.  What does it smell like?  Nothing.  It is just clean.  There is a tiny bit of a fragrance from the Fels, and you can add essential oils, but to me the price of the oils negates my laundry savings.  What I do is use the Downy Unstopables for fragrance, and it doesn't take much for a great scent, probably because it isn't competing for fragrance space with my detergent.  P.S.  Those Unstopables are great for making auto air fresheners.  Just make up a "Christmas Ornament Dough" recipe, and put some of those in the mix. Use a cookie cutter for the shape and use a straw to poke a hole in the top to put a string through.  Great gifts from kids to grandparents.
5. Does it really work?  Yes, it does.  I do use the detergent to pre-treat really bad stains.  I also use peroxide for blood stains too.  But it really does work.  Try more or less in your machine.  
6.  Is it safe for my clothes?  I have not had one problem in using it on my clothes.  
7.  Do I really save money?  Ok, this is the fun fun part:
                        I wash about one load a day.  I have a family of 6.
Cost per batch:  Borax, $0.80 + Washing Soda, +$0.48 + Fels Naptha, $1.00 = $2.27

THIS LASTS ME ALMOST 6 MONTHS.  

So I spend less than $10 a year on washing all of our clothes!  And SO CAN YOU!!!!!

Aren't you inspired now?!?  Get your keys, get to Walmart, and

. . . . . stick it to the man.

Have a great day!!

Engaged

"and Mary was espoused to Joseph. . . .. "

The teacher is the student again.

I was teaching the kids this morning about "The Christmas Story" of the birth of Jesus.  It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all to me this year. Maybe its no snow, or the fact that I saw a daffodil in full bloom the other day, which I am still coming to terms with.

When I feel this way about a task (like doing Christmasy stuff)----"why am I doing all of this again?"--- I have to dig deeper.  The veneer of the day to day looses its luster, and I have to go digging to find deeper meaning about why, whatever the task I am doing, matters. (This is probably why I wasn't a good math student). What a better way to do this than to dig my teeth in deeper into the Christmas story?

So today we talked about Mary being told by Gabriel about how she was blessed and favored among women, because she would be the vessel chosen not only to bear, but raise, Jesus.  My goodness, could there be any more daunting task in the history of totally humankind?  As if ordinary motherhood doesn't provoke enough anxiety!

And what I learned doesn't have so much to do with that at all.

~~~~~~

Babies, puppies and engagements.  They all invoke a sweet, precious sort of love that is reserved for all things innocent, and a love that is somewhat one-sided.  Its a love that springs from the way someone or something makes you feel, and the delight that you take in that person.  How can you not absolutely drink up a sweet five month old baby?   Or rub the full little belly of a sleepy puppy?  Or be madly, deeply in love with your recently betrothed?

I remember the first time I wore my engagement ring out in public.  I was 18, tall and thin with a long slender ring finger.  And the sun was shining.  I walked with my best high school friend with that shiny gold ring just glittering light, blinding both my eyes and my heart.  I was just smitten----by the ring, the man, the whole idea of being a wife.  Just consumed by it.

And the ring!  Well, I loved showing it off.  I was so sure that it was the best ring ever (because it was a diamond you could really see and not just take on faith), that I worried about appearing too boastful. I loved people asking me about it, looking at it when I was driving, and how it made my hand go from that belonging to a teenager. . . . to that belonging to a woman.

At our marriage I was given a plain gold band.  Very simple, with absolutely no detail.  I picked it out.  It is very thin and I wanted to be sure that my engagement ring maintained top billing. I don't have to worry about it much.  It is dependable, stays put, and doesn't get snagged on anything or scratched.

Marriage is so summed up in those two rings.  

That engagement ring is a symbol of laying a claim to something.  It is sort of like a beautiful form of mutual branding---"Property of the J.Stotler Ranch".  I was claimed, and anyone looking at me who cared to glance at that hand would have seen that.  We were young, and took great delight not only in the person of each other, but in the whole new, young love experience, and in dreaming of our future together.  A future that has largely, at nearly 40 years old, become the present day.

An engagement relationship is lots of flash.  Lots of excitement and activity and "look at me".  Delighting in one another, and being delighted in.  It is a beautiful season of life.

But that wedding band. . . . that band is a utility piece of equipment.  It isn't made to say "look at me".  It is made to be worn easily.  It is easy to serve others with that band on----in the garden, changing oil in the car, washing dishes, mowing the lawn.  The real beauty about the wedding band is the hand it is on-----worn, rugged, strong, wrinkled, calloused.  It is a hand marred by working and serving the other.  To the eye it is not much to see, but oh what a deep, lasting promise it is!  It is for better or worse.  When we talk about our vows, usually the one that gains our attention is "in sickness and in health". "For better or for worse" can both occur during the same day! 

The cares of this world may pause the dating for a season, and the frenetic pace at which we move may tempt us to disengage for a while.  But we are past the engagement ring.  We are working off of the band.  The band is a covenant to serve one another, with joy and gladness and tenderness----a covenant made with our betrothed, and with God.  It is the part of marriage where we learn to love like Jesus.

And it is deeper, and stronger, and more satisfying and beautiful than the first type of love ever could be.  When you give your all to your spouse, and they give their all to you, marriage is a picture of perfect heavenly love. If you are struggling to do this, ask God to help break your pride. In eighteen years I have had to do this many times, and I am sure that my hubby has too.

(Well. . . . probably at least once.)

You are loved this Christmas by God and me,
Sandra

    
 

Busy Mama Healthy Bean Soup

1 pkg Hillshire Farms Smoked Turkey Sausage (like kielbasa), chopped
1/2 onion, minced
2 cloves garlic
1 box chicken broth, 32 ouunces
1 tablespoon olive oil
6 carrots, peeled and sliced
1 12.5 ounce can chunk chicken breast
All bean cans are 15.5 ounces, and all should be drained:
2 cans Great Northern, 2 cans Navy, 2 cans Cannellini (white kidney beans)
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp garlic salt
1/2 tsp. liquid smoke

Saute onion, garlic, sausage in olive oil.  Lower heat, add chicken broth.
Add black pepper and garlic salt, bring to boil.  Add carrots.  Cook until just softened slightly.
Add chicken and beans.  Reduce to a simmer, and cook until carrots are cooked through.

Fat content: There are 36 grams of total fat in the entire pot, 10.5 of which are saturated fat.  I cooked it in a very large Dutch oven.  I would estimate that there are about 12 servings in the pot. This number is NOT including the olive oil.  The olive oil would add another 2 grams of saturated fat to the pot.  Which means each serving has 1 gram of saturated fat. You could reduce it by reducing the onions and garlic with the chicken broth.

Total cost at my Walmart (minus seasonings, onion and garlic):  $11.93

I love bean soup, I love butter, and I love bacon. . . .but they don't love me or my wallet!

Hide and Seek

Colossians 3:3:  For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God. 

1 Timothy 6: 1-6:  
 Let as many servants as are under the yoke count their own masters worthy of all honour, that the name of God and his doctrine be not blasphemed.
 And they that have believing masters, let them not despise them, because they are brethren; but rather do them service, because they are faithful and beloved, partakers of the benefit. These things teach and exhort.
If any man teach otherwise, and consent not to wholesome words, even the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the doctrine which is according to godliness;
 He is proud, knowing nothing, but doting about questions and strifes of words, whereof cometh envy, strife, railings, evil surmisings,
 Perverse disputings of men of corrupt minds, and destitute of the truth, supposing that gain is godliness: from such withdraw thyself.
 But godliness with contentment is great gain.


A long, long time ago, before marriage and babies, I was a young woman of about 19 and I had some fairly deeply rooted thoughts about what my life should look like.  The "should" generally came from public opinion at large, that which society feels that a moderately academically successful young woman should look like.  I should be educated, I should establish a career in something fulfilling to me, and at some point I should marry and eventually have children.  

(I need to interrupt myself a bit at this point and just go on record as saying I have no problem whatsoever with a woman being educated beyond high school.  In fact, it is my intention to steer my daughter in that direction, but it is her job to submit to what God's will should be in her life, whether that is what I should desire or not, which will be up to her to figure out.)

Well, I did that.  And in doing so I always felt like a "lady in waiting"----- a lady waiting to have and raise her own children.  I would go to conferences and meetings in my suits and heels and doodle names of future babies in pretty cursive in my notebooks.  I would draw pictures of my dream home----big porch, on a hill, on a farm----when I should have been engaged in the latest Medicaid rule changes.  And at last, eight and a half long years after saying "I do", I became a mother.

As much as I have loved the adventures and joy that is parenting, and as much as I felt like I was no longer "in waiting", I would occasionally feel something else:  invisible.

The more babies, the more laundry, the more cooking and cleaning and mopping and pediatric appointments, the more invisible I felt.  And in my heart I would sometimes panic about this invisibility, worried that I was missing out on something, though I wasn't sure what. 

I was truly disappearing----behind my children.  Behind the endless needs and demands and under the burden of caring for others to the extent that I was just turned inside out, emptied, with very little left to give.

When I would feel that way I would sort of scramble inside myself, desperately seeking to carve out "me" from the mountain of domestic duties.  Sometimes that would look like a new haircut.  It might be a new pinterest activity, or an attempt at renewing a friendship.  And even though society told me that I deserved to have my own life, for some reason extricating myself from Mt. Laundry felt a little like treason.

God has turned my world upside down since moving to Oregon.  Not in an earthquake way.  More like in a snow globe way: one big flip to throw up the snow, and lots of time to see the beauty of it drifting down, down, down, in a very soft, deliberate peacefulness.  Rather than lying monotonously on the bottom, the snow clings to the delicate parts of the figure inside, enhancing its beauty.

One particular Saturday I was working hard for my family. In fact Saturday was usually my "day off" after working all week on household things.  I had indeed worked very hard all week.  On this day I had been meal planning, trying the best I could to speak kindness to my children because I truly wanted to, looking to feed the emotional needs of my husband and kids by being hospitable to them because I truly wanted to, and  . . . . 

I wasn't exhausted.

I was very, very contented.

I was contented in a way I don't think I have been in many years.

As I drove over the bridge coming home from some errands, my heart's cry of thanksgiving filled up the car.  I was so thankful to Jesus for my blessings, for the people I have in my life to serve.  I sought Him for wisdom in how to treat my husband, how to teach my children, and wisdom for how to live my life.  And as I prayed with tears pouring down like rivers, I just sat there and fellowshipped with my Lord a while, and I realized that my life WAS disappearing.

But now, instead of being buried by my children, my life was becoming "hid with Christ in God."  In serving like this, I was serving, in a very small small way-----like He did.  In a patient, loving, altruistic way.  And He was erasing me so that I could be more like Him.

There is a difference in raising children as service to Jesus and becoming more like Him in the process, and raising children by creating little idols for yourself-----even if you are following the letter of the law and doing things the way your are "supposed" to.  One of those things will leave you spent and exhausted.

But the other?  When the Lord blesses your efforts with joy unspeakable and full of glory in the soul, so full that your heart just brims over with love from your Savior and you can't even contain the joy inside? 

Oh sisters. Godliness with contentment is a great, great gain indeed.  And that is all the strength we need for this journey.  No haircut or pinterest board will ever rival that.

My favorite quote goes something like this:
It matters not if the world approves or understands
The only applause we're meant to seek is that of nail-scarred hands.


Lord, help me to remember the wisdom you showed me on the bridge.  Help me to take my exhaustion as a sign of self-reliance, and help me to repent and try again by doing it Your way----by loving my blessed family and friends the way that You love me, in word and in deed and in my soul. 

You are all loved on this day-----
Sandra