Gratitude as punctuation

What will I have done with them?

 

I think it's fair to say that Molly Jo has changed my perspective on life.  I suppose that's happened with every birth and every child, but she really has taught me the value of each breath. I don't want to waste one, and boy, do we waste them.

We waste them complaining and arguing.  We waste them as we focus on negative things, grumble over things in our heads, stressing that beating heart.  And every beat of the heart is precious.  I can't tell you how many times in the last few days that I have counted to ten.  Ten seconds.  How can ten seconds seem so long?

Ten seconds without a heartbeat. Mouth to mouth. Chest compressions. Suction. Suction. Oxygen. Breathe.......

My-oh-my how ten seconds can fly at any other time.
I think of how many ten-second-spans I have wasted on thoughts and worries and concerns for tomorrow.  How many heart beats I've used frivolously on things rather than people, stuff rather than relationships. How many breaths I've inhaled, exhaled in anxiety over the pokes and prods of the devil instead of in peace and trust in the knowledge of Jesus Christ.

Our time is limited. Our heart beats have a number. The breaths of this body will one day be sucked away.
And what will I have done with them?

What I learned from skipping Christmas

 I am really, really glad we decided to do a low-key Christmas this year.  It was truly a relaxed, hassle-free holiday for once, especially since we were able to avoid all the chaos of the stores.

We were able to steer clear of most of the commercial holiday gimmicks (especially since we don't watch television), and no one seemed to miss going sans-trees and holiday decor. (Although, I still do have a fake strand of evergreen above the kitchen windows- it's been there for a year.)  I've read so many posts on Facebook, blogs, and other places in which people exclaim that they are so stressed out.  And, from my current prospective, I have to say that most of that stress is self-done.  I feel we choose to put so much on ourselves around the holiday seasons- we want it to look and feel a certain way, and we think we have to have so many gifts under the tree, and the family meal has to go just perfect and....

Then there's the depression that sets in when you cannot afford to buy very many gifts for your children, and the pretty Christmas picture you have in your mind does not unfold as you wish it would. I know what that's like, I've been there as well.  But, more and more lately, our family has been looking at other families around the world and seeing that, even at our poorest, we are incredibly rich.  

We complain about not having this or that gadget or toy, or not having the best gifts under the tree, or there not being ham at the Christmas Eve dinner (finger pointing at my husband here, ha!) .... and we're so caught up in what we want, what we desire, and things we think we need... when in reality, it's all a cherry on top. I suppose this is one of the big negatives of living in America where wealth is taken for granted and called "poverty", where people who have a big screen television and expensive gadgets complain about not having enough food on the table. I don't think we understand how completely ridiculous that sounds to someone in Lesotho, South Africa where our friend, Nkutu, lives.

Our perspective is extremely skewed, and we call our selfish desires our "rights", and we think we deserve every little thing we desire while people who work harderthan us, live tougher than us, and see things no human being should ever see struggle just to get food on the table. 

Believe me, I'm preaching to myself as much as anyone else.

And, maybe it sounds like I can say this stuff now because we're doing good financially, but that hasn't always been the case.  And, while the main reason we're doing well financially is because of the grace of God, another reason is because we've learned our lesson in managing money, don't buy anything we can't pay with in cash, and try to keep a savings stored up.  However, all of that is just MONEY and it can be gone in a second.. and someday it will.  (Seriously, all China has to do is cash in on all the debt we owe them, and the people of the United States are going to find that they won't be able to afford a loaf of bread!)

For all the folks talking about the "Christmas Spirit", I really hope they aren't talking about the Spirit of Christ... because that's not what I see this time of year (for the most part). What I see is a spirit of materialism, people concerned about what they are getting, what to get for other people, who got something better than they did.....  and depressed when the "Christmas Spirit" doesn't hit us like we hoped, and we can't smile through the season because the season is a hassle and a hoax and is making us go broke and our kids hardly appreciate the things we spent good money on.

Know what I mean?

I'm not saying we can't have nice things, but man... so often we make life about those "nice things".  This morning, I was looking at my face in the  mirror, noticing the subtle changes that aging brings, and I actually felt okay with that.  It's just a face, it's just skin, it's just a vessel. It's not me... it's just the vessel that contains me.

Lord, I don't want to be so obsessed with how I look, what I have, and my own status in life that I miss the point of it all.  It's not about any of that, yet we spend so much of our time- waste so much of our time- obsessing over it all.

These last half-dozen years of my life have been very interesting to say the least. I had everything stripped away from me, and I had everything "returned" (so to speak) and more. For me, who I was, my identity, was tied to my stuff- the appearance of things, how it looked, how I looked, what I had.  It was very humbling to have that all taken from me. Very. 

I didn't write a lot on my blog in those days, and when I did, I didn't go into much detail about that part of our lives. It was embarrassing. I didn't want anyone to know that we hardly had two pennies to rub together, and were always in danger of losing our business and our home.   But, through all of that, God taught me that it's just stuff.  And I learned to give, even when I had little to give (whether it was of my money, time, effort, strength, love..).  I learned to take joy in those "simple" things, which, in reality, are the big things.

But it's so easy to forget those lessons.

This month has been absolutely amazing as we have leaned on the Lord to show us what to do, how to bless others, how to be vessels of His love. I keep having to remind myself- it is not about  me.  It's easy for me to get caught up in my wants, feelings, plans.... and to ignore God's desires, His will, His hopes for me.

We started out this month with plans not to "do Christmas", and yet I feel that we have "done" Christmas more than ever.  It has been so refreshing to set aside the materialism, the rush and the mental stress of it all, and just focus on Christ.   It's been so great have so many opportunities to teach our children about giving, real giving.  Giving to people who can't afford to return the favor, who won't be able to repay your kindness.  I'm talking about the kind of giving that is not a "gift exchange", but the kind of giving that is as Christ's example- giving to those who truly need and will never ever be able to repay you.  I mean, if we're going to celebrate Christmas, isn't that what it's REALLY all about?

While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. [Romans 5:8]

For while we were still helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.  [Romans 5:6] 

That is what it's about, isn't it? That's what life is about.  Sometimes I picture Christ dying for those who had stoned Him, scorned Him, betrayed Him- dying for those who hate Him, blaspheme Him, use His name in vain.  Dying for those who justify sin and love wrong-doing.  Dying... dying for the murderer, the child-abuser, the rapist.  Not just the "good" people, but those society deems bad and horrible and disgusting as well.

This is the kind of love we are called to have. To love the unlovable, not just those we like.  To give, to extend ourselves to the fullest extent.  To think of others, to serve others, above ourselves.

This was the lesson God was desperately trying to teach me when  our friends were living with us, yet I kept thinking about myself, my own feelings, and justifying myself by society's standards.  Afterall, as people kept telling me, hadn't we gone "above and beyond" in inviting a family of six into our home for a month? 

But Christ calls us to go beyond what "good people" do, to stretch ourselves, to give until it hurts.  And, in doing that, there really is no room for this mindset that Imust have, I will have, I deserve....

Like I said, I feel that, in "skipping" Christmas, I have had the best Christmas of all.  I've appreciated my family more than ever, I've enjoyed giving more than ever, I've seen the Holy Spirit move more than ever (not that He wasn't moving before, I just didn't see it).

A taste of infinite Love

I pull my bible from the bedside table and flip open to the verses I had read just before sleep invaded, the verses that rolled through my mind as I dreamed, as I groggy-nursed my baby, as the first beams of sunlight spilled across the sheets.  With a whole heart. I will praise Thee. I will sing praise to Thy Name, most High. Be glad. Rejoice. In Thee.

I look to the previous page.

There it is again. Praise. Sing praise. His Name. Most High. How excellent is Thy Name!
The children are memorizing Psalm 24:1.   The earth is the LORD's, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.  I put it to my own tune. Yes, me and you... and the ocean blue, all sea and land is in the LORD's hand, it is His. The verses appear on my lips as I sing. The children cuddle on the couch and read Thank You Prayer. "Thank you for the birds that sing. Thank you Lord for everything," my oldest reads.

It is His. It is all His.  Formed by His Word, brought to life by His breath. In everything I can give thanks to the Creator, sing praise to the Most High, be glad and rejoice in Him.

Why do we wait for big events to give thanks, sing praise, rejoice? Why not now? Why not in the little, every day events that I so often overlook?  Are they not worthy of praise as well?

He has on his serious face, and he colors with a mission.  It's the first time I've seen him really consider what hue to use instead of scribbling the whole page with one crayon. Brown for the monkey. Blue for the curtains. Yellow for the man. Green for the chair.

He's growing, and it's happening each millisecond.  Some days I miss it because I'm caught up in dishes and laundry, but today I let the dishes sit in the sink. I watch them, all four of them. His chubby cheeks still draw my kisses, but I can see they are starting to thin. He's four, brand-new-four, this-month-four, and my mind rewinds to the day when he was born into my husband's hands in our bedroom.  Husband baptized by amniotic fluid. Baby, born unassisted, child of faith. Total dependence on the Lord.  Just me and my husband and our baby. Alone. The rest of the world drifting away in the moment of joyful tears and gratefulness and praise to God. And now he's four. He calls cereal "city-all" and likes to "take a bathtub".  He calls his brother Nolyn, "Woah-nen." He snuggles his baby Evangeline a little too tight but only because he fiercely loves her. Now he wants big boy haircuts and shoes that tie and desperately wants to be like his older brother.

He is my blessing. Our olive shoot ¹. Does that mean I'm a fruitful vine?  I hear the back door slam, and I unfold myself from the couch. I find Nolyn on the small cement slab with a tiny piece of chalk. Itty bitty ants scurry back and forth, and I show him how to confuse them by drawing circles around them with chalk.

"They must be pretty stupid," he states.
I shrug, "Well, they are really small. Imagine how big a speck of chalk dust looks to them."
"Yeah..." he considers. "It's probably like a big rock!"

It's all about perspective, I realize.

The kids panic over a line of ants marching through a hole in the front door seal. "They're in the carpet!" they squeal. I find myself sighing. Ants. Bah. Arg. Bleh. I suck them into the vacuum, sprinkle "ant-be-gone" dust around the outside of the house, and hope they go away. In the carpet. Bleh.
And then I laugh because I have ants in the carpet because I have carpet. I have walls. I have a roof over my head. I have a house for ants to get into. A house with a foundation and carpet and walls. Not dirt floors. Clay walls. Leaf-thatch roof.  I tell the kids. We're so ridiculously privileged and blessed.

It's all about perspective.
Finding a mass in your daughter's brain- blessing because it is the answer to the prayer and questions of her random and odd behavior. Dirty dishes and loads of laundry- blessing because I have loved ones to cook and clean for. Blessings- olive branches around our table, husband who works hard, sweats hard. We have dishes and food and clothes a'plenty.

Husband and I talk about how those of us loaded with stuff find so much to grumble about. We grumble about our stuff and it's never enough. The children have toys and more toys and it's never enough. And we complain about clothes not being stylish or fitting just right and that's so American.

Ungrateful.

Stuff gets in the way most of the time. It gets in the way because we're so busy taking care of our stuff, we don't stop to count the blessings, don't see the faces, don't cherish the moments.

We see the negative. The chalk on clothes. The peanut butter jelly mess on the table. The van needing repairs. The A/C struggling to keep up with the summer heat. The smart phone acting stupid.

We sigh and stomp and say we need better and new and more and we're unhappy.  We're unhappy because we're looking through darkened glasses.

It's the perspective. Children managing on their own, making sandwiches so Mommy can relax. Having a van, having an A/C, having a phone. Having a house, even if it has ants. A bed to sleep in, a place to come home to. Coming home, period.

Children see the world differently. Breakfast is exciting. Lunch is a thrill. Park visits make it "the best day ever". Getting the mail is an awesome adventure. Reading beside Mom and Dad, climbing in our bed early in the morning, sweet moments that stay pressed to their hearts even when they are grown with children of their own.

He looks at the jug of tea. It's almost empty, nearly gone. "For me? Just enough for alluvus!" Just a sip, just a taste is enough to make his thankfulness bring a smile to his face, eyes light up.

I thank the Lord that I left the dishes in the sink and chose to watch my children. Reminders of His blessing. A taste His infinite love.  He is worthy of praise. Worthy of praise when there are loads of laundry to be washed, dishes to be scrubbed, meals to be made, children to be taught. These are my acts of worship. I can praise His name as I rejoice through the day, sing my worship as I serve my family and reach out to those around me. Even when I'm exhausted, worn. What a difference that would make in my children's lives to see their mother singing and dancing joyfully while cleaning toilets and changing diapers.   What is it that causes her to be glad and rejoice? What an impact that would make on their lives, impressing the beauty and might of an awe-inspiring God upon their hearts through their mother. Yes, Lord. Let it be!

Sometimes the things looming before me look overwhelming. I forget my praise. I see this white wall before me and don't know it's just chalk dust before the Lord. From here it looks daunting, scary.  Fear grips me, and I stop living. I'm merely surviving. Surviving through the dishes, the laundry, the dusting, the errands, the cooking, the bedtimes, the serving. I press my praise into a bag and start thinking about "when". When this happens, when that happens, when life gets better. I'll pull out my praise then.

I forget the here and now. I forget this is the day the Lord made, I should rejoice and be glad in it. I'm weary, and instead of resting in the Lord, I look around me for something else that will satisfy.

Stop. Look. Praise. Worship.
With a whole heart.
My God- my God of marvelous works, righteous, most High.
I am His.  This is all His. The fulness thereof.

1. Psalm 128:3- Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house: thy children like olive plants round about thy table.

Let it rain

Evening rolls in, bringing with it thick, dark clouds.  Could it be? I wonder.
Our land is starved for rain. The grass is crisp. My tomato plants wilty. Allergies are going haywire as the everything turns to dust.  Rain, I pray. Lord let it rain.

The wind howls furiously.  I run outside to drag in trashcans and tuck away plant stands.  My husband helps me remove a sun tarp which violently whips, thwacking the garage door.  The cloud is right over our neighborhood. I fear it will withhold it's rain. Please, Lord.

"Let's pray and thank God for the rain," I hear my eight-year-old say.
But, I think to myself, it hasn't rained yet!
I correct my attitude. Thank Him anyway.

We huddle in the livingroom watching flashes of lightning strike across the sky.  Thunder cracks and echos through our neighborhood. It sounds like a war zone outside.

I hear the clatter of the wind chimes. The kids snuggle close to us on the couch. My daughter is scared. She has all three of her favorite stuffed animals, plus her blanket, pulled close for comfort.  We turn out the lights and I gather all the candles... just in case.  I strike a match and set the flame to each wick.  It's comforting.

My mind drifts as I observe the sky blink and shudder.  When Jesus comes, what will it look like. Will the sky blink and shudder as it does now?  Will it holler and shout out His glory as He rides in?

Rain pours, beating hard upon the windows and the roof.  I awake in the morning to wet ground and light sprinkles.  It is cool and refreshing outside- it hasn't been that way for months.  The earth smells fresh and revived.

Thank you, Lord, I smile.


I see the parallels. I was dry, parched. I cried out, begged for nourishment, life, renewal. And down it poured. Thick and plentiful, soaking the ground just as the rain had my yard.

Ask, and ye shall receive.