For Obedience February 10, 2012

The passage that comes to mind this morning is from Matthew chapter 6.  Here, the discussion revolves around the proper ways to give, pray and fast.  Should we be doing these things so that we receive the praise of those around us?  Should we look so tuckered out from our long hours on our knees or our depriving ourselves of food or whatever else we are fasting from?  Is it appropriate to go around boasting about all that you’ve done to serve the poor?  No! Indeed what Jesus teaches us is that we will be “rewarded for that which is done in secret…”  These principles are important and challenging, but this morning, I’m seeing them a step further.  Slightly out of context, but not unrighteous as it is.

You know the slogan, “when the cats away, the mice will play”?  Today, I had a first hand experience with that very concept and since that particular slogan isn’t exactly scriptural, the idea of what is done in secret came to mind.  I realize that scripture regarding integrity would actually be a bit more fitting, but I am no Bible scholar, able to recall perfect scripture in perfect time.  But God is gracious and I am grateful that the Word that is hidden in my heart is useful.

When I finally emerged from my warm bed this morning, my kids had already been up for a couple hours.  They have the day off of school because of a teacher work day.  I was joyful as I walked through the family room ready for a good morning hug from each of my three kids, until my eyes locked onto the very object of a lesson that I thought had been learned just the night before.  My budding little 7 year old artist loves my box of Sharpie markers.  Yesterday after school she was given specific instructions not once, but twice in the presence of her year-younger sister, that the Sharpies were only allowed to be used at the “art table”.  Their use is limited even at that.  I mean come on…the darn things are permanent and little hands are prone to the dropsies!

This morning, my eyes were drawn to the Sharpie box laid open, both girls poised with a blank piece of paper in front of them right there in front of the T.V. in the family room.  I calmly reminded my sweet little artists of the rule (which by the way, is not a new rule).  Then from the honest (and probably a little devious) mouth of my 6 year old came the truth that we all struggle with in one way or another.  “Anna said that we could use the Sharpies out here because you were still in bed!”  Dun Dun Duh!  Anna was stricken in that moment.  She knew she was caught and she knew she was wrong.  And so goes the saying, “When the cats away, the mice will play.”

Talk about a teachable moment; Anna learned the hard lesson that a rule is a rule even if the enforcer is not present.  To drive home the lesson, she is grounded from using the Sharpies until otherwise notified.

Suddenly, the truth of “what’s done in secret will be rewarded” came to mind.  So if we are rewarded for what is done in secret, will we not also be disciplined for make poor choices in secret?  I believe we will.  And it is my job as a parent to be sure to drive these lessons home while my children are young and teachable with hope that the more difficult, more consequential lessons of life can be observed, but not necessarily experienced later on in life.

for purity January 13, 2012

WHAT!  I like the idea of Glee.  The fun nature of this hit show taps into my inner performer and somehow allows me to escape back to a time that demanded less responsibility and more excitement from me.  Only, now that I’ve used our Netflix subscription to “catch up” (which is to say that I never watch Glee and therefore to catch up would be to spend endless hours watching all the episodes for the first time), I am speechless to say the least.  The time is high school, the attitude is carefree, the setting is safe, the relationships are pure, life is easy! At least it’s supposed to be.  Why is Glee so popular?  What makes the drama that these kids- acting -like -adults engage in so appealing?  I literally sat here and watched 3 episodes and  I was legitimately entertained by the music, but utterly astonished by the content.

 

And it occurs to me that one of the target audiences is obviously the same demographic that is portrayed in the show.  This is less a critique or criticism of the show Glee and more a gut check and a wake up call as a parent and for parents.  Glee has been a primetime favorite for it’s 3 seasons of life.  Some of it’s primary themes are dysfunctional relationships, sex, popularity, sex, homosexuality, sex and sex…oh and then there’s the music!  As I watched these dramas between teenagers play out, I thought to myself, “Am I so naive?  Is this what high school is really like?  Is Glee closer to real life than I choose to realize?”  WAKE UP!

 

This is not a venue for me to tell you about my experience in high school.  I’ll spare you, the details are impressively  boring.  I knew that there were other options for me on weekends.  I knew that some of my classmates were getting stupid drunk.  I knew that a fair amount of illicit drugs passed through the halls of my high school.  I knew it, and I was afraid of it.  Now, as a parent, I have to ask myself, “What makes kids so different?  How do I create a righteous fear in my own children without creating a spirit of judgment?”

 

For everyone who wants to look at me and call me naive and prude, I urge you to cast the first stone.  I feel defensive and almost offended when I get done watching Glee.  I escaped high school without taking a drink and without losing myself to anyone and never once have I wished that it had been different.  It’s so frustrating that if the Glee cast were among the amazing group of students that I graduated with, they would take me down with more thrown stones than most people see in a lifetime.  Why is it okay for a primetime, highly rated, widely watched (mostly by adolescents) television show that wins awards on top of awards to be allowed to influence KIDS with ideas like having sex with whomever, whenever is okay?  Backstabbing your friend by cheating with her boyfriend is adequate revenge?  Teen pregnancy glorified?  Drinking alcohol in high school is a way to “see life”?  WHAT?!  I wish this show was actually about the music!  Honestly, I wish that Glee would put out a montage of only the performances and music so that I could watch it with my musically and performance inclined daughter, but alas, even if that were available (and perhaps it is), I would be at risk of my daughter believing that approval of that, is approval of it all.

 

The conclusion at the end of it all is that socially, the world is becoming so much more tolerant of all things unrighteous and utterly unholy.  I will not raise my children to be judgmental of friends who make different choices, but I will raise my children to think for themselves.  Our primary responsibility as parents is to raise Christ followers.  I’ve said it before and it becomes truer and truer all the time!  It is my goal to allow the Holy Spirit to be THE primary influence on my children and the decisions that they make.  I hope that if my kids ever see an episode of Glee or experience the reality of it in their lives that they will be more disturbed by it than even I was today.  It is neither glamorous or impressive to experience the reality of this kind of drama in life.  It is anything BUT glee!

 

To Parent October 31, 2011

“Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.” Proverbs 22:6

I can remember sitting in the parking lot at a local pizza place in our hometown and having a “discussion” with my husband about starting a family.  My sweet husband and I had only been married a year or so.  We were newlyweds and we were enjoying life together. But, I had baby fever!  He said to me, “You do realize that they aren’t little babies forever?  You know that once we conceive a child, they are our responsibility forever?”  I could have been easily offended and I’m sure I was, but he was right to say these things.  It was about then that our little discussion became more of an argument.  I was offended at the idea that I may not have realized these obvious facts when indeed, I needed some reminding.  Not that we weren’t well suited to start a family.  We were!  We just needed to be on the same page.  That has to be one of the most vital pieces of advice to offer a newlywed couple:  BE ON THE SAME PAGE!  That has continued to be true, day after day, week after week and year after year.

Our three children are 5,6 and 8 years old now.  We are able to look back on that parking lot conversation and smile now as we work as a team to parent these children.     Being united on how we parent is the most important thing we can do for our children.  When they know that we agree, they have shown us that they are most likely to believe it themselves.  If they know we are divided, then not only are confused, but they are left to their own devices because if mom and dad can’t agree, then maybe they are both wrong.  Being on the same page is as important now, if not even more than it was when we made our decision to start our family.

Here is an example;  Our middle child has shown a propensity toward all things right brained, creative and artsy.  We are very proud of her and we desire to see her take the talents that God has given her and to use them for His Glory.  It is our job, however to show her that path.  In the world of creative arts, she is most influenced by things that will draw her into anything but a God centered activity.  T.V. shows that showcase teenagers who do anything to get their name in lights, songs that degrade boys, slam friendships and glorify self righteous behavior are all vying for my 6 year old’s attention.

(The one discouraging side note worth mentioning here is the glaring observation of the gap between Preschool cartoons like Dora the Explorer and Tween identified content like iCarly and Victorious.)

This weekend, we had to make a decision and we chose to invite our daughter into that decision so that she could own it and believe it.  The three of us sat down and we explained what lyrics were and why they were important to a song.  And while we might enjoy the feel and the beat of a song, when the lyrics are hurtful or destructive it ruins the whole song and it speaks volumes about the person singing it.  When she read the lyrics without the funky beat and the loud music, she saw immediately what we were talking about.   This song that she had come to know by heart, mostly because she has an exceptional memory, she didn’t even realize was tearing down boys, building up self and had a very angry tone.  I later over heard her explaining to her friend that she wasn’t going to be singing that song anymore and the reasons why.

That night after the kids were in bed and my husband and I were recapping the day, we looked at each other and once again remembered that parking lot conversation about starting a family.  We often shake our heads and say, “Wow, what did we do?”  But, we take joy because we are on the same page and parenting as a team according to God’s Word will produce a harvest of righteousness.  That is our prayer.

Church…with a capital “C” (part 1) October 3, 2011

For the past year, it has taken us about 35-40 minutes to get to church on Sunday morning.  Ordinarily, that same drive only takes about 25-30 minutes.  I guess you could call it Sunday morning’s version rush hour traffic.  You see, between our house and church, there are 14 churches.

Fourteen churches all with a unique vision, a unique story, gifted servants, but probably a fairly common mission.  Of those 14 churches, most of them (if not all) are some denomination of the Christian faith at large.  I haven’t taken the time to review all of their doctrine, but what little I do know of them as denominations, I know that they each believe in the inerrant Word of God, they each believe in God the Father, Christ the Son and the Holy Spirit.  As well as many other common basic beliefs.  So, lately my heart is stirred and at unrest and I beg the question, “Why all the division?”

I know that I am not the first person to ask this question or ponder the unrest that this produces in my soul.  Certainly scholars, both religious and non religious, have spent life times studying this subject.  There are walls of books on it.  But, listen, I’m no Bible scholar and I’m not looking for a degree in religious studies, I’M JUST A JESUS GIRL WHO WANTS TO SERVE.

They were continually devoting themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.

 ⁴³ Everyone kept feeling a sense of awe; and many wonders and signs were taking place through the apostles. ⁴⁴ And all those who had believed were together and had all things in common; ⁴⁵ and they began selling their property and possessions and were sharing them with all, as anyone might have need. ⁴⁶ Day by day continuing with one mind in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, they were taking their meals together with gladness and sincerity of heart, ⁴⁷ praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord was adding to their number day by day those who were being saved.  (Acts 2:42-47)

When I spend time reading about and considering what the first church must have been like, I don’t think of a building with offices and gyms.  I don’t think of kitchens and massive stages with lighting and sound systems.  I think of people who were so consumed with the fire that Jesus had set ablaze inside them, that they couldn’t stand to not be in fellowship to discuss it.  I imagine that once the Spirit settled in their souls they almost literally had a glow that could not be ignored by passers by.  I believe that what they experienced and lived out, was something that we in Western society, have never witnessed.  We have made church be what we want it to be, even setting and changing rules, standards and doctrine so that it would fit into our worlds.

I do wonder what has happened to God’s Church.  But please don’t misunderstand me.  I understand that there is a place for things like offices, gyms, kitchens and stages.  I get that.  I have been drawn in myself to churches that have enough resources to build these things and listen…They are reaching people with the Gospel message.  Praise God!  I have served joyfully at churches that don’t have buildings, but have resources that are hauled on trailers week after week.   They too, are reaching out to lost souls and drawing them in to receive a little dose of Jesus.  And I have met with God on proverbial mountain tops with nothing but the sound of voices, maybe some instruments, but often silence, right smack in the middle of God’s creation.  No walls, no pews, no stage, no nothin’…No distraction!

Sure, I understand that with no venue, lost souls are less likely to show up!  I’m not suggesting that the walls of every church in America should come tumbling down.  Not literally, anyway.  Figuratively?  Now that’s something to consider…

Life September 23, 2011

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.   Jeremiah 29:11

I believe this because my physical life was spared nearly 22 years ago.  As a young person, newly committed to living my life for Jesus, this verse rang very true for me.  I knew, even at the tender age of 10, that God must have a plan for me if he chose to let me beat the odds.  And as if you needed a *spoiler alert*…He has been faithful to prosper me, protect me and has blessed my future days.  This is the story of my near death experience almost 22 years ago…

March 5, 1989 was an ordinary Sunday at the Sabel house.  Mom, Erik and I were getting ready to go to church, while dad was getting ready to make his weekly grocery shopping trip.  I was 10 years old, Erik was 14.  Mom was faithful to take us to church week after week and dad, while not a church goer at the time, was supportive enough of our going that it never seemed out of place in our family.

If you’re from the Midwest, or have ever been there in the winter, you know that starting in November, there is likely to be some sort of precipitation clear through March or April.  Be it snow, sleet, slush, ice, rain, whatever…it’s likely to be on the ground for the long haul.  This March 5, as I’m told, there was a dusting of snow on the grass and a dangerous thing we refer to as “BLACK ICE” on the hard surfaces.  One of my only memories from that morning is my brother helping my mom down the slippery 2 steps outside our front door, in a gentlemen kind of way.  The remainder of that day and the weeks that followed remain pictures that have been painted in my mind by those who were witnesses to them.  God protected my mind by resting it as only He can.

I played in the youth bell choir at our church and we were going to play that morning.  We were to arrive a bit earlier than usual to set up.  As some are known to be consistently late, we were known for being perpetually on time or early, so when we didn’t arrive at church on schedule, people began to worry.  And they were right to do just that.  The county road that we lived on was lined with corn fields that make any hard surface in between especially hazardous during the winter.  This was not news to us.  My mom took great care and caution on the roads and took every chance she could to be preparing us for our driving days.  My brother especially couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel.  But it didn’t matter than morning.  Our full size, blue and silver striped van hit black ice at the slow speed of 15-20 mph and became a machine driving itself.  There was no way that the vehicle could be controlled with nothing by ice beneath the wheels.  It reached it’s  final destination when it collided with a wooden telephone pole on the side of the road.

The law of physics is a funny thing in that the force with which the van finally hit the telephone pole, was much greater than if we had simply hit it at 20 mph.  During the mere seconds that our van acted on the whims of physics and nature, my mom’s head managed to hit the side window, shattering it.  The impact left her ankle broken and body bruised.  My brother suffered a sprained back and a concussion coming to in time to begin walking home on that cold March morning to call an ambulance.  911 did not exist yet, let alone cell phones.

And there I laid, on the floor behind the front seats with my head lodged under the driver’s seat.  I had been thrown from my seat during the impact.  It is worth noting that I am an obvious proponent of seat belts.  My mom was/is too, having been head nurse of ICU for years.  It is our best guess that the fabric of my bulky winter coat had prevented the buckle from latching together completely.  As I laid there, I was bleeding from my mouth, my nose and my ears.  This is the result of a severe head trauma.  One of the other things that happens when the brain is injured, is that it induces the vomit response.  So, not only was I bleeding, I was also throwing up…all while I was completely unconscious.  I lost consciousness the moment my brain suffered trauma.  Thank you Jesus.  I am certain that the amount of physical pain that I would have endured, would have been more than my body could handle and so God protected me.

The first, most notable hero of this traumatic event is my mom.  Shattered ankle and all, she ran from around the driver’s side door to the side of impact where the passenger door was jammed open.  She had already seen the pooling blood and knew that she had to escape panic mode and enter the mode that she knew so well from dealing with emergencies in the hospital.  This hero, my mom, called on her training and knew that to prevent my airway from obstructing completely and to prevent me from drowning in my own blood and vomit, she had to perform an action called a “jaw thrust”.  If you place your thumbs on either side of your jaw bones with your fingers resting in front of your ears and apply pressure with your thumbs, you will know what a jaw thrust is and if you sense what is happening in your throat when you apply pressure, you will know why that action essentially saved my life.

As my brother was making his way back to our house, less than a mile down the road, someone we knew was passing by and picked him up to go the rest of the way.  In hind sight, these details are so important in context of my life  just minutes from slipping away.  Being that we lived on the edge of the county probably made it feel like advanced help took an eternity to arrive.  I imagine that would be the case in any emergency, no matter how close help was.  When the ambulance did arrive, my mom continued to find herself caught somewhere between Head Nurse of an ICU emergency and Mama Bear modes.  She began barking out orders to those who were taking over.  She knew which doctors she wanted to operate on me, to care for me and demanded that they be there when we arrived.  Suffice it to say, so I’m told, that they heard her!

When we arrived at the ER, a team of doctors and nurses were there to “greet” us.  After a careful, but quick assessment of my plight, it was determined that I needed an emergency craniotomy (brain surgery) to remove the clot that begun to form in the tiny, delicate space between my brain and skull, called the subdural space.  The metal workings from beneath the driver’s seat of the van had caused 4 individual fractures of my skull.  The blood clot that was forming beneath it was only minutes from taking my life.  It had to be removed.

Before I was taken to the OR, the team of heroic doctors and nurses joined hands around me and prayed over me.  During the time it took to perform this life saving surgery, our faithful church family would file in one by one to stand vigil in the waiting room, figuratively and literally holding my parents and my brother up.  Now, as a parent, I cannot imagine the agony that it must have been for my family.

After the surgery, I was taken to a room in the pediatric wing of the hospital that was connected to the nurses station and had glass windows instead of a privacy wall.  I was too critical to not be observed at all times.  The Neuro Surgeon was in close contact with my parents and as a good doctor does, gave them two perspectives.  One, the text book, expected path of recovery.  Two, the unexpected, unknown path that is possible at any time because the human body is so intricate and unique.  The expected path was what was hoped for both because it was predicable and the outcome was positive.  Thank God, my recovery generally followed that course.

The coma that I was in was both natural and induced.  My body’s response to the trauma was to naturally go into preservation mode and rest.  But, medically speaking, it was necessary to make sure that there was no added stress to my already traumatized brain, and so I was under a partially medically induced coma as well.  As predicted, I began to “wake up” after 7 days.  I was not the same.  But, thankfully, this was not a surprise to my loved ones.  It is a blessing that today, we can laugh about the way I acted out just after this trauma.  As my dad puts it, “I was swearing like a sailor.”  Interestingly, this is common in head injuries.  I was completely uninhibited with my words.  I know for a fact that was I rude to visitors who only came to show their love and support.  Can you imagine feeling grateful to see things like this playing out because it was part of the healing course?  I’m sure my parents spent some awkward moments trying to explain to people that I was doing what they said I’d do.

Although  I was “awake”, I still have very little memory of the time I was in the hospital.  I have a memory of the most painful events after waking up.  One of them was when they removed the staples from my head incision.  The incision begins at the top center of my head and runs a straight line down the side of my head and ends just in front of my left ear.  I don’t know for sure how many staples were used to close the incision, but I know it hurt when they took them out.  I also remember feeling emotionally traumatized that all my hair was shaved off.  I was 10 years old and had long hair.  I was now resigned to wearing hats.  A luxury that I was granted by my amazing elementary school in spite of the “no hats” rule.  Incidentally, I wound up with quite a collection of hats.

I was discharged from the hospital only a couple days after waking up.  Certainly, there was no question that my care at home would be exemplary.  My memories after coming home are rather scattered and vague as well.  I remember sitting with my grandma who had come to stay with us from Florida and working on strengthening my facial muscles.  The entire left side of my body basically needed to relearn how to act.  I had trouble controlling my left leg when I walked.  Imagine taking a normal step with your right leg and then having to consciously throw your left leg out in front of you to take the next step.  That’s what I had to do to teach my brain to control that leg again.  I had to learn simple math facts and time basically from scratch.  Unfortunately math didn’t start out being my strong subject anyway.  What a drag!  I repeatedly squeezed a stress ball in my left hand to strengthen those muscles.  My writing on a page started out appropriately sized and gradually got smaller and smaller.  I had to relearn basic writing skill too.  My rehab was long and at times frustrating and difficult.  But when the options were weighed, we could deal with the temporary frustration.

I was in the 4th grade at the time of the accident.  By 5th grade, I had regained most of the skills that had been damaged.  A few residual things continued to plague me, and to this day, if I’m very tired you can see my droopy smile and if I tear up at a movie or a story, I only have tears out of my right eye.  Overall, my life has been a success story.  When I made the decision to become a nurse (I had long wanted to be a neuro surgeon, no doubt greatly influenced my the man that allowed his hands to be the source of my miracle), I had the opportunity to work beside Dr. Creselius, who had been my surgeon.  What a full circle moment for me.

Some years ago, one of the most dramatic memories returned to me.  When I was visiting home, I was listening to my mom tell the story of our accident.  She recalled that in the moment she knew that she was no longer in control our van sliding on the ice, she called out to God and said, “God, just let us live!”  When I heard it in her voice, for the first time, that split second in a time that I have no memory of at all, came back to me.  And to this day, I am praising him that He did just that…let us LIVE!

Writing September 22, 2011

I feel like I’m cheating on my blog!  Life has just whisked me away and left me unavailable for the one thing I truly love, MY WRITING!  As the school year approached, I became very ambitious.  I began saying “yes” more than I think I’ve ever said it before in my life.  When I became a wife, I was convicted to keep my time for my husband sacred and available.  When I became a mom, I was determined to keep their routines a priority.  I learned the art of saying “no”, while not offending and still participating in life.  Now, for the first time in 10 years, I said “yes” a few too many times.  And I feel like I’m missing out on life, even though I’m so involved in it.

I’ve made commitments that I will keep and I will joyfully and whole heartedly complete the tasks that I have begun.  But please forgive me if you start hearing me say, “no” more often.

And please understand that until then, my written words have become fewer and farther between.  But know full well that I have not abandoned my passion.  I will be back and better for it when I am.

Results September 2, 2011

“Results Not Typical”…that’s the disclaimer that nearly every weight loss program advertises.  It’s the fine print that really matters.  When I see all the before and after pictures during a Slim Fast or Weight Watchers add or the cut physique of a once fat person advertising P90X or any other home “gym”, I’m inclined to find their website and sign up.  That is until I read the fine print.  If the results are not typical, then I don’t want to try it.

 

Most of us see ourselves as fairly typical people, so when an advertisement suggests that you have to be atypical to get results, it’s a bit of a turn off.  Wouldn’t you agree?  Well, I was challenged today while I was struggling to run up another hill at our local park, to be “not typical”!  I want results!

 

A terrific opportunity turned up in my little town this week.  A “typical” woman had a vision to make her community more fit.  And by typical, I mean anything but.  She put out an offer to come and experience her exercise class (bootcamp)  for free this entire week.  She’s the only person I’ve ever met that could conduct 12 classes in 4 days.  NOT TYPICAL!  I made it my goal to show up for one class everyday this week.  Today, I finished it off with a little run on my own.  Today, I feel more than typical.  And as I reached the top of my last hill today, I actually believed that I could achieve results that fit the fine print.

 

There’s a deep spiritual element here.  The passage that comes to mind when I consider this is Romans 8:37

“No, in all these things, we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.” 

 

Isn’t this a great passage?  At it’s basic face value, it’s awesome to think that I am a conqueror.  Because, let’s face it, every day we are faced with things that make us question that fact.  But the deeper value of this is even greater.  In context, it is suggesting that we are strengthened by the Spirit that lives in us.

 

All the way up in vs. 22, there is talk of hope, redemption, weakness.  Oh, sweet weakness!  Not a day goes by that I do not feel weak.  I know I’m not alone.  The good news is that there’s strength in that.  And the even better news is that God works for our good, He is for us and he has indeed made us more than conquerors.

 

This is NOT typical, friends.  Every time I read Romans 8, probably my favorite chapter in the Bible, I’m reminded and inspired.  Today, I’m thankful that it reminds me that I fit the fine print.  I can achieve results that are not typical, both physically and spiritually.  We serve a God who made me anything but typical.  Of this I am sure!

Time August 19, 2011

It’s not that I don’t have plenty of time.  My world just opened wide up when my kids recently started back to school.  This year, unlike any year yet, I am at home with myself and my time!  The question is how will I use it?

Therefore be careful how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the most of your time, because the days are evil.  So then, do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is.   Ephesians 5:15-17

When we wake each morning, we must choose how to live out the day ahead of us.  I love that just before this passage I quoted above, in verse 14 it says,  “Awake, sleeper, And arise…  And Christ will shine on you.”  Let me make a disclaimer here that indeed in verse 14, the reference is to “the dead”…those not alive in Christ.  But as a Christ follower, I look at this as it precedes verses 15-17 and I am encouraged. That just simply by waking up, I can receive the gift of Christ shining on me.  Don’t you wish that every day, getting out of bed was actually that joyful?  It can be!

Further, what will I do with the time that God has granted me for this day?  Over the summer, I observed my kids and thought to myself, “Idle time…”  Is that not what summer time is about for kids?  But consider the effects of idle time.  I found myself saying to them, ” The TV is going off, put your DS away…this idle time is turning your brain to mush!”  I’m becoming my mother after all!!!  As I get older and value my time more, I become more and more aware of how destructive idle time can be.  In 1 Timothy, the widow is warned about idle time, but I think it is applicable to us all… especially women;

“At the same time they also learn to be idle, as they go around from house to house ; and not merely idle, but also gossips and busybodies, talking about things not proper to mention.” (1 Tiimothy 5:13)

Today, I am challenged to organize my time so that I am the most effective that I can be.  For me that means making lists, having a plan and being purposeful!  What does it mean for you?  I challenge you to consider what happens when your time is idle and not well thought out.  And then consider how much more effective you can be with your time when it is first committed to God for his glory and purpose.  There’s nothing idle about that!

The Next Thing August 3, 2011

The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride.  Ecclesiastes 7:8

 

Some people resist change.  I’m married to a person like that.  My son, takes after his dad and resists change.  I am not that way.   I often long for change.  I confess that I get bored easily and when “the next thing” nears, I become utterly impatient to the point of almost being debilitated.  The two things don’t mix well; desiring change often and the anxiety that I get when the change draws near!

For me, I get bored with the thing that I had once anticipated intensely.  For example, as the end of the school year neared, I became intensely anxious about what the summer would hold.  I worried about how our new neighborhood would accept me and how our lack of routine would effect our family.  I’m telling you, I lost sleep over anticipating the summer.  Now, the summer is less than one week from concluding and I find myself experiencing the same anticipation as I had just a couple of months ago.  But looking back, I can see that the Summer days that I had anticipated so much were fun-filled and did not deserve the anxious energy that I had invested in them before hand!

Now, I realize that from that description, it sounds more like I resist change than I look forward to it.  And perhaps there is room in there for a little resistance, but by in large, I look forward to it.  The scripture reference from Ecclesiastes resonates so deeply for me.  It’s the “end of the matter” that I actually long for.

When I  take the time to pull this scripture apart a little, I am encouraged by it;  “The end of a matter is better than its beginning…”  In other words, “The event of our trials and difficulties is often better than at first we thought.”(Henry’s Commentary)  Even if the event we anticipate isn’t a trial or difficulty, it’s the getting to it that I wish would hurry up.  For example, now that summer is coming to a close, I am filled with anticipation over school starting.  The beginning of school is neither a trial nor difficulty, quite the contrary in fact.  This year, my youngest begins Kindergarten and I, being a stay at home mom, eagerly anticipate a little me time.  But I still find myself longing for it’s beginning…simply to get the end, which is that me time that I so desire.

“…and patience is better than pride.” Matthew Henry’s commentary describes this as “calmness of spirit”.  Need I say more?

To be sure, it’s the calmness of spirit that I long for each day, but especially as I choose how to invest my energy anticipating the next thing.

 

 

To Know and Be Known August 1, 2011

How I Overcame My Fear and Started a Blog (again)

The address to a friend’s blog appeared in my e-mail inbox on a regular day in 2005.  She had posted pictures of her beautiful family and was recording the special events that occurred in their lives.  “How cool!” I thought. “But I’ll keep jotting stuff down in my well organized, spiral bound calendars that sit nicely on each of my baby’s dressers.”  I wasn’t exactly sure if the world needed to see my life revealed on the World Wide Web.  I was clearly very naïve about the nature of the blogosphere.  The more I kept up on my friend’s life via her blog, the more intrigued I became.  I would typically take a spin by her blog as I would sit down to write in my computer journal that consisted of multiple Word documents.  The more I wrote in my journal, the more I discovered that I might be able to encourage someone with my words.

By 2005, the world of blogging was far from new.  But in my little circle of friends, blogging was just catching on.  And even at that, there were only a few testing the waters of blogging.  2006 was the year I took my first dip into the blogosphere.  The name of my first blog was aptly named “Three under 3”.  At that time I had 3 children all under 3 years old.  The content of my blog was not hard to come by as each and every day of my life was filled with a new adventure to be sure.  I blogged regularly for nearly 2 years and had some followers, which is a huge boost to any writers ego!  But I confess that life happened.  I didn’t stop writing, but it stopped being public.

After some major life events and changes, God began to stir deeply in the place of my heart that is passionate about writing.  I no longer had an active blog, but I was filling pages upon pages of journaling and inspiration that God laid on my heart.  At the time, I was blessed to be part of a sweet community of women who urged me to listen to God’s leading.  I dug my heels in and resisted the idea of becoming a blogger again because between 2006 and 2011, it seemed that every person that breathed had also become present in the blogosphere.  The non conformist in me said, “No!  Find another writing outlet!”  I did not want to be like everyone else.

However, the fact is that the invention of the “blog” has created a place for people to be in a community, so to speak.  I’m clearly not the only one who discovered that.  In my estimation, blogging has gained popularity for 2 main reasons; it’s a place for people to be known, whether it’s to inform or inspire and it’s also a place for people to know, to be informed and inspired.  These are the reasons that I finally broke through my fear and resistance to be like everyone else, and began actively blogging again.  The writer in me is happy to be putting myself out there again in hopes that my passion will inspire those who read and follow my blog.

You can now find me jotting things down at: www.desperatemomandwife.wordpress.com

Many of my days are spent writing what's on my heart and getting places fast!