Half baked thoughts . . . Easter ruminations.

I love Spring, I really do. But the whole “April showers” thing has been taking its toll I think. Day after day of clouds and gray make the flowers popping up dull and my mood even duller. The last few weeks have left me melancholy, which actually sounds like it should be a cheery word.

I say melancholy instead of sad, because sad usually has a cause. I don’t really have a cause. I have a good life for the most part, and when it isn’t good, it’s great! So what do I possibly have to feel sad about?

Do you ever have those days? Ones where you know you should be happy, and you are.

But . . .

You’re just not! Maybe you don’t feel seen. Maybe you just feel forgotten. Or maybe you just feel like to fell into a funk with no reason why and you can’t get yourself out of it. Or maybe you feel like you lost your purpose. I think this is a real thing, especially for moms.

I recently read Dream Big by Bob Goff. If you haven’t heard of him, look him up. He’s not old enough to be my dad, so I can’t ask him to adopt me. But I wonder if he would consider being my big brother? I want to tell you the book was a life changer, but the fact is, all of his books have been life changers. No, I mean it! And if you can, try to listen to the audio version. There’s something about his voice that just connects the words better in your mind. Actually, it may connect them more to my heart

Of course, the bad thing about audio is I can’t go back to quote him word for word. So if you ever read this, Bob, sorry for plagiarizing.

He says that most of us tend to think of who we are in terms of what we do. A lawyer, a speaker, etc. What we put on our business card. But then that can be a problem when you have a bad day, like lose a case or “get the hiccups” (I remember that part for sure) Then, it’s not just a bad day, “it’s an identity crisis.”

My jaw must have stretched dangerously close to the floor, or at the very least the steering wheel since I usually listen to audio books in the car. My identity has always been what I do . . . I’m a mom. That’s who I have been for the last almost 30 years.

So what happens when, now going on 30 years, you’re no longer momming. I don’t think that is a accurate verb, but it should be don’t you think? And it’s an action verb at that because everything a mom does is action. Is what I am feeling an identity crisis? It seemed to fit the bill.

Did you know that the feeling parents have when their children go out on their own is a “syndrome?” I’m not kidding! Empty Nester Syndrome they call it. So now, I don’t just have an anxiety “disorder,” I have a “syndrome. Ok to be fair, that is what it is referred to as, but it’s not an official diagnosis.

Dr. Dorothy Canfield Fisher coined the phrase in 1914 in her book Mothers and Children. You might know her best as the founder of the Montessori Method of education to the United States. I can’t find anything before the early 1900s, but honestly, I have a hard time picturing Gorgo or Leonidas having empty nester syndrome. I suppose the truth is that moms have been moms since the beginning of time. So they may not have had a label for it, but I’m sure we have a lot more in common with them than we realize.

I spent some time on Easter Sunday reading the Resurrection stories in the 4 gospels. I always like to compare the similarities and the differences. I tend to like John’s version the most because he is very specific about the God given roles of the women. I know what you’re thinking, Mary Magdalene is the only one mentioned by John, but she wouldn’t have gone by herself the prepare the body. Mark’s gospel lists other women that were with her. I don’t know if the others were still there or if they went running back to town with Peter and John, but it’s Mary’s story that tells us that women were the first to tell the good news of the gospel. Jesus made her the first missionary, the first evangelist. He told her to go and tell. That was a pretty big assignment considering that women of the day weren’t considered reliable witnesses.

But good ole Dr. Luke, he adds some other stories because he wasn’t there when it all went down. He went around town after the fact talking to people and getting first hand accounts, and one of the people he spoke seems to be Cleopas. You can read the whole account in Luke 24:13-35 but here’s the part the spoke to me.

Cleopas and his buddy — or maybe it was his wife — had just left Jerusalem on their way to a town called Emmaus, which seems to have been their home. They were probably part of the crowd laying down palm branches before the Passover because they thought Jesus was the Messiah, which of course He is. But two days before, Jesus was crucified. And just before the hit the road, some people they were hanging with in Jerusalem told them a few hours before that the tomb was empty and angels said Jesus wasn’t there. We already know who the people were that knew that, so these two probably knew Jesus pretty well.

You can imagine the discussion they were having! Grief, confusion, sadness, I think they probably ran the gambit. When all of the sudden, another traveler joined them in their walk and their discussion. They didn’t realize that this tourist was Jesus Himself. Now, I don’t know if their eyes were full of tears and they couldn’t see, or He made it so they didn’t recognize Him, or if it was just so impossible for Him to be alive that it didn’t cross their mind, or maybe he looked a little different after all the beatings. I can’t say for sure. But here he was WITH THEM in their sadness and they didn’t even know He was there.

Aren’t we the same way? I couldn’t help thinking of myself in reading about these two. Here they are, in this journey of sadness and Jesus was with them the whole time. And actually, now that I think about it, John 20 tells us that Mary Magdalene was blinded by tears too and assumed He was the gardener. But there was one beautiful difference in Mary’s case — Jesus called her by name. When she heard His voice, she recognized Him.

Maybe like me, you are caught in some melancholy, and I use that word on purpose, because caught is what we are. It’s no different than falling into a pit or being snagged by a snare. And the more we struggle to get out, the deeper and tighter it gets.

Just like those two travelers, we are sometimes on our own sad journey. But you know what? He is with us too, we just don’t realize it. Rest assured, that He knows your name just the as He did Mary’s. And He is just as much alive and working in your life as He was that first Resurrection Day.

Isaiah 43:1 reminds us:

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
    I have called you by name, you are mine.”

And like I always used to tell my boys, it’s not what people call you, it’s what you answer to that counts. And God calls you, His.

“You are going to have a very comfortable old age”

Joshua 14: 6-12 “. . .And now, behold, the Lord has kept me alive, just as He said, these forty-five years since the time that the Lord spoke this word to Moses, while Israel walked in the wilderness. And now, behold, I am this day eighty-five years old. I am still as strong today as I was in the day that Moses sent me; my strength now is as my strength was then, for war and for going and coming. So now give me this hill country of which the Lord spoke on that day. . .”

Comfortable. I feel like that can be a dangerous word as we age, especially for Christians. The Bible tells us many times that God is the source of our comfort, (2 Corinthians 1:3-4, Psalm 23:4, John 14:27) but I can’t find anywhere that it tells us to be comfortable.

Paul uses the word content, but not comfortable. What’s the difference? Contentment comes from finding peace and happiness in whatever condition or experience you are in. Comfortable is finding peace and happiness because your condition or experience is favorable or good.

Real talk? I misunderstood that verse for a long time, often taking it out of context. I used it as a pep talk for my sons. First day of school? You can do all things through Christ who gives you strength! 413! Have a big test today? 413! And especially for sports…413! It was our secret code to pop off quickly to one another, because yes they fired it off to encourage me too. A coded reminder to rely on Christ in everything we faced. 413! became a battle cry.

I can still hear it echo off the ceiling of the indoor soccer complex when I saw my youngest run onto the field. I remember when he got up to bat in the championship baseball game, and the whole team rallied a chant of “413! 413! 413!” from the bench without having any idea what they were saying or why. He just looked over to me with the faintest curl of a smile and shook his head. They just knew that was what I always yelled when he stepped to the plate. That memory still makes me smile. It is his life verse today and it is tattooed across his left pec, and I think that is awesome! But something was missing from our battle cry . . .

Through the use of that verse, I taught my sons that God can help them with literally anything and everything, which I wholeheartedly believe! But, I missed an opportunity to teach them that God is still with them even if they don’t pass a test, or ace the job interview, or hit a homerun, or score a goal (or I guess in this, actually stop a goal since he was the keeper.) I took the verse out of context in my passion for encouragement, and I missed a valuable truth.

In Philippians 4:12 (NIV) he tells us “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” He continues in verse 13 revealing the secret of that contentment – “For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.“

Yes, we CAN do all things through the strength of Christ, but that means the uncomfortable stuff too. We can do and endure hard things! And Jesus told us that there would definitely be hard things. According to John 14:27, Jesus says “you will have suffering in this world. Be courageous! I have conquered the world.” (that’s two more C words, but still not comfortable)

. . . WILL . . . That’s pretty definitive. He could have said may, or might, or could, but that’s not what He said. He said “will.” The Oxford English Dictionary defines it as “inevitable.” What does inevitable mean? “Certain to happen; unavoidable”

That pretty much tells me that Jesus didn’t expect us to be comfortable. If we’re too comfortable in this world that’s not our home, (Hebrews 13:14-15) maybe we’re doing it wrong.

I know I have often said out loud “I don’t need to be rich, I’d just like to be comfortable.” Well now, I think I need to be a little more like Caleb and start asking God for the hill country!

. . . or maybe I should just start with the stairs.

“Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide”

–Luke 10:41-42 “But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”

It’s one of those rainy Saturday mornings, dim and quiet, that brings a welcome coziness. My favorite mug steams with my first cup of coffee and I’m eager to dig into my devotions. Our summer women’s Bible study has chosen another meaningful walk in the Word by Jen Wilkin, seeking how to Abide in God through a study of I, II, & III John.

As life would have it, I missed the first two meetings so I’m trying to catch up. Two weeks worth of homework and in this moment my soul is happy. The weather even supports it, what a great day to sit and read! That logical thinker in my head scolds me though, “you only have a small window to clean the house today”. But my spirit hears, “Mary has chosen what was best.”

I have prided myself on being “a Martha” for about as long as I can remember. I’m a happy girl if there’s work to be done. Frankly, laying around doing nothing makes me a bit cranky! Yet, even in my own delegation of what needs to be done — because it’s me and my own crazy rules — I often act like Martha thinking, “why aren’t they helping?” “why do I have to do this by myself?” and it inevitably leads to resentment about a role that I assumed for myself!

When Martha whined to Jesus, (or maybe that is just what I would have done) He didn’t exactly agree with her. Now, hospitality in Jesus’ time was like it’s very own religion. Modeled by Abraham in Genesis 18, biblical hospitality was a sacred duty to treat strangers and friends alike with a welcoming spirit and invite them into homes, communal spaces, and lives. The dictionary defines hospitality as “the friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.” And certainly, food and serving is a key part of that as we see Martha doing in this passage. But here’s the thing, if while you are being hospitable you’re complaining about doing it, well, that right there is not hospitality. I Peter 4:9 says to show hospitality to one another “without grumbling.” Well, Martha was grumbler and so am I.

And yet, Jesus didn’t just point out to Martha the flaw in her thinking. He didn’t scold her. In fact, I think his words were sweet with compassion. He knew Martha was stressed, who isn’t stressed when you have to whip up an unexpected dinner party! He reassured her that the things she was frantically worrying about weren’t the most important in the grand scheme of things. Jesus obviously wasn’t bothered or displeased that Mary wasn’t in hostess mode, instead, he approved of what she was doing. Now, we don’t know for sure since that’s where the passage ends, but I believe it’s likely that Jesus encouraged Martha to do the same. Maybe He even took her by the hand himself to lead her to a soft pillow next to her sister.

And can we just take a moment to recognize the importance of this scene of Mary at the feet of Jesus… The apostle Paul tells us in Acts 22:3 that he learned at the feet of Gamaliel, his rabbi, his teacher. This guy was mentioned by name because he was a pretty big deal in the Pharisaical community of the day. This sitting at the feet of a great teacher was the position of a disciple ready learn from their master. But the people that were educated at the feet of a rabbi were MEN, not women! This is scandalous right?! The words in this passage are brief, but don’t miss what’s between the lines. In this male dominated society, Jesus affirmed women as this young sister gleaned every word she could at the feet of her Master. Jesus saw no distinction between his followers, and He still doesn’t!

Let’s also understand that He didn’t say that Martha was wrong in her service. He simply said that Mary had chosen what was best. Jesus acknowledges that hospitality is important. Having a home that is clean and welcoming, is important, and it’s important to me. But in the moment where I’m pulled to close my Bible, because I have to clean, I have to remember what Jesus said to these sisters. I have to acknowledge the need I have in that moment to spend more time with God in his Word, the need to sit at my Master’s feet. And I’ve decided to be a little more like Mary this morning.

In a church culture, where I’ve often heard comparisons between these two sisters, “Are you a Mary or Martha?” I think the correct answer is both. There is nothing wrong with taking pride in your home, or in your hospitality to others. In fact, that welcoming nature might be the very thing that causes others to come to Christ. But if your desire for anything, no matter how good, takes away from your personal relationship and time with God, then you aren’t choosing what is best.

I hope that encouraged you as it did me today. I hope you know that Jesus calls you by name, lovingly, as he did, Martha, with a personal invitation to sit at his feet.

And now, I’m going to clean my house.

Luck will visit you on the next new moon

-Proverbs 16:33 “the lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord.”

Happy Irish-American heritage month! And, double bonus round, it’s also Women’s History month. Luckily, for you, I’m both, so I can usher in your jolly celebrations and shenanigans until March 31. You’re welcome!

I always hear people talk about “the luck of the Irish” which seems to suggest that we are extremely lucky people with exceptional fortune does it not? But, I recently learned that like most terms associated with Irish American history, it wasn’t meant as a compliment. It never specified that that their luck was good, that is just the tag we have put on it through the years. No, it’s more to insinuate that the only way the Irish could achieve any success was because of dumb luck, certainly it couldn’t be because of intelligence. I just learned this from Edward O’Donnell’s book, 1001 Things Everyone Should Know About Irish American History. A little light reading for St. Paddy’s Day am I right?! I love learning about my cultural history. I think everyone should know their heritage – and it wouldn’t hurt to know about the heritage of others to better understand each other. Just my two pennies worth.

Somehow, I think I inherently knew that it never referred to good luck though, because I have said for as long as I can remember “if I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.” When others buy tickets for the Powerball, or Mega-Millions, I joke that I might as well throw a dollar out the car window so my loss could actually help someone who needed it.

The truth is, I don’t believe in luck at all. Well, I suppose that’s not entirely true. Another redhead whom I greatly admire, Thomas Jefferson, although Scottish not Irish, said, “I am a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work, the more I have of it.” And that, my friend, is my opinion in a nutshell.

The last time we talked, we chatted a bit about God directing our steps and being in control of what happens. Our wise friend, Solomon, chimes in again with Proverbs 16:33, this time telling us that God is in charge of the outcome of lot casting, or the outcome of “fate.” We see what we might refer to now as “luck” many times in the Bible. The Israelites cast lots to determine God’s will. (Joshua 18:6-10, I Chronicles 24:5, 31) The book of Jonah tells us the reluctant prophet tried to run away from God’s calling and hopped a ship going the opposite direction. A crazy storm kicked up that was going to sink them and the sailors believed it was because someone had angered the gods…they weren’t too far off from the truth. So they cast lots to see who the culprit was so they could toss him overboard. Lot casting wasn’t uncommon in ancient culture, but it was God’s people who used it as God’s way of revealing what He wanted them to know. And for all of my “but I’m a New Testament Christian” friends, I didn’t want to leave you out. The Gospels tell us that the soldiers cast lots to divvy up Jesus’ coat. Whether or not this was the coat that He owned that they took from him or the fancy robe that they mocked Him in we don’t know. But it was something worth gambling for in order to win. In fact, we see this practice again in Acts 1:26. The disciples of Jesus used this method to determine who should replace Judas Iscariot, and Matthias was chosen.

So what does it actually mean to cast lots? I always picture a scene from Guy and Dolls in my head; back alley gangsters shooting craps while singing “Luck Be A Lady.” No? Just me?

Lots were basically a form of divination. It may have been bones, pebbles or runes tossed similar to rolling dice; or it could have been the reading of tea leaves that determined a decision to a particular question asked. A sacred person of some sort, a prophet, a holy man, or a seer, would know out to read the outcome. Or in the cases referenced above, the will of God. Today, this would be similar to us tossing a coin or drawing straws.

Now I know what you’re saying – God’s people are to just know His will and get our direction from him. He tells us. But, how were they to do that, do you think? How would He tell them? We have a 66 book, 1189 chapter, sacred text as a jumping off point. And, we have the Holy Spirit now that they didn’t have then. (John 16:13-14) Well, they used the common practice of lots or some variation of that. I would imagine it was a sacred process for the Israelites and Jesus’ followers. It wasn’t merely the toss of a coin to make a decision by fate or luck. It was a prayerful belief that God was in control of the outcome, It was a tool of necessity used by God in order to know what they were supposed to do.

And even today with the benefit of the Bible and the Holy Spirit, we aren’t so different are we? We may not cast lots to make decisions, but we sure think that things just happen by coincidence, or accident, or a fluke. As believers though, we should know there is no such thing as coincidence. Or to quote another wise sage, Master Oogway, “there are no accidents.” (King Fu Panda)

There’s an old Yiddish saying that goes “Mann Tracht, Un Gott Lacht” or “Man Plans, God Laughs.” I think the old Rabbi that said it first was paraphrasing Solomon in Proverbs 16.

So does this mean we shouldn’t invest in our 401(k), buy a home, or plan for our kids college tuition? Of course not! I think it is more about being a fluid to God’s will, or you know, go with the flow man.

It’s good to have a plan, the wisdom in Proverbs is full of guidance on planning and being prepared. If you take a deep look at the Proverbs 31woman that many of us Christian women aspire to be like, she is a perfect example of a business woman, a hard worker, and a provider — with a PLAN. That’s called being wise. That doesn’t negate our trust in God. We believe that He has what’s best for us in mind and will take us on the route that is most beneficial to us.

Did you know that there was a faster route to the promised land from Egypt? Exodus 13:17 tells us that God didn’t take them that way ON PUROSE. He knew that they would have to fight for the land right away, and He knew they couldn’t handle it. Even if they were an army physically prepared for battle, their faith was not in a place that they could foresee victory. They didn’t know Him yet. They needed a relationship first in order to trust. And it was through that time of wandering and relying on Him that gave them the fortitude to step into the best that God had for them.

What about you? Is God leading you the long way around because He knows you’re not ready for the battle? Start asking Him to reveal Himself and His plan to you. You may only be able to handle a little at a time, so ask Him to go before you to clear the way like He did the Israelites.

And as we seek him together, to know his plans for us, (Jeremiah 29:11) I’ll leave you with this Irish blessing…

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand. (John 10:28)

“Action is the proper fruit of knowledge”

-Proverbs 3:5–6 Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.

What is it about a new year that makes us reflect not only on the past year, but our past. If you’re anything like me, you never look back fondly at your successes it’s always the moments you weren’t your best self that seem to come to the forefront. We like to focus on our “failures“

It’s as if because of past choices or circumstances, we assume there is a big, fat, red permanent marker, F on our life. But life isn’t a test. It’s not as simple as a pass or fail. It’s a combination of choices, both good and . . .  we’ll say not so smart. That makes us who we are.

One of the Five People I want to meet in Heaven is Maya Angelou. That is a lady that I just want to sit at her feet and listen to the wisdom that effortlessly flows in words that I can only dream of writing. One of my favorites is, “Do the best you can, until you know better. Then, when you know, better, do better.“

I love that some of the writers of the Bible often relate living in terms of seasons. Solomon was a king of Israel, the son and heir of King David. You might know him better as the shepherd boy who killed a giant. (1 Samuel 17) Well Solomon was probably only a teenager when he became king after David‘s death. His actual age isn’t recorded in the Bible, but Bible scholars seem to think he was between 15 and 20 years old. Now, I don’t know about you, but at that age I couldn’t even balance a checkbook let alone be king over a huge nation! Frankly, I still can’t – thank God for online banking! And Solomon recognized this too. In a conversation with God, in 1 Kings 3:7 he calls himself young – even a child by some translations. He tells God “I’m just a kid! I have no idea what I’m supposed to do here!“ OK, I may have taken some liberty there a bit, but can’t you relate in your own way?

If you’re a mom, haven’t you had days where you just think “I didn’t sign up for this!“ Or maybe you’re in lecture hall, and it seems like that professor is literally speaking a language you don’t know. Or your boss wants answers and you don’t even understand the question. Like Solomon, we need to recognize that answers and understanding don’t simply come from the knowledge of something, it comes from godly wisdom.

A couple verses down in 1 Kings 3:5, God presents Solomon with a life-changing question, “What should I give you?” Now friend, think for just a second. This is the Creator of the Universe asking you what you want. This is serious carte blanche!

Do you want to be rich? Do you wanna live forever? Do you want that perfect bikini body? Do you want to travel the world? I don’t know about you, but those might be the things that would go through my mind in a split second. Well, maybe not live forever part, but to hang out with my great-great-grandkids? Maybe.

But Solomon didn’t ask for any of those things. You’ll see in verse 9 he asks for a discerning heart, (ESV) an understanding heart, (NKJV) a listening heart. (MSSG) in a word, he asked for wisdom. He knew he was in way over his head, and there was only person that could help – God.

He shares this advice with us in his collection of wisdom in the Bible, Proverbs 3:5–6.

I have to admit though, I was challenged a little in writing this. Solomon was supposed to be the wisest man in history, and yet, I really took a moment for the first time to think about the integrity of Solomon’s wisdom. Yes, God gave it to him, but when you look at his life it makes you wonder how much he used it. I mean, it seems to negate how truly smart the man was. He writes a lot in the Proverbs about avoiding what my dad’s generation always called “loose” women. Yet the man had about 700 wives and a 300 member harem. It may be no coincidence that he authored Ecclesiastes right after Proverbs. You might say this collection of Solomon’s writings finalizes his thoughts about life as his begins to fade. I think maybe he realizes that although he may have had wisdom, he didn’t always use it. His conclusion? Fear God. Do what he tells you. Period. (Ecclesiastes 12:13)

Solomon learned the hard way, like most of us tend to do, that the only true wisdom is Godly wisdom. I once heard a pastor say that, people can have more degrees, than Fahrenheit, but without the guidance of God, they lack true wisdom. College can provide a great education, and I consider myself a lifelong student. But without the Spirit of God teaching us along the way, we are simply smart. 

What would happen if we fully trust in God? Fully trust that He is in control of our lives. Fully trust that He is leading us if we would only follow. Fully trust that He loves our kids even more than we do.

Would that kind of trust, that kind of faith, set us in motion? What could we do? What would we do, if we asked Him for wisdom?

I’m all for being smart and learning and receiving knowledge. But true, Godly wisdom is life-changing!

But what if I fail you might say. “Oh but my darling what if you fly?”

“There is freedom waiting for you,
on the breezes of the sky,
 And you ask, “What if I fall?”
Oh, but my darling,
What if you fly? –Erin Hansen

ReplyForward

“All the little things will add to a happy journey”

“All the little things will add to a happy journey” … IF you let them.

What did Emerson say? Life is a journey not a destination?

Sometimes I think it is all too easy to get caught up in “whens” instead of the “nows.” You know what I mean – Things will be better “when” I get married. It will be easier “when” I make more money. I will be happier “when” I lose weight.

“when” I’m grown up
“when” I have kids
“when” I have more time
“when” I get older
“when” I get a new job
“when” my kids are grown

…have I hit your “when” yet?

It is so easy to see everything with a goal oriented mentality. In fact, society seems to encourage it. I wonder how many things I missed out on as my sons were growing up because I would do something with them “when” the house was clean?

Time is the most precious commodity that we have. You might be able to find a way to make more money. You can do things to try to have better health. You can develop skills to make yourself smarter, prettier, or more organized. But once time passes, you can never get it back.

Now wait, I’m sorry if I just filled you with past regrets of misspent time, because it’s true that we can’t regain time. But what if we CAN redeem it?

Merriam-Webster defines redeem as:

1. to buy, get, or win back
2. to free from what distresses or harms
3. to change for the better
4. to repair; restore
5. to make good
6. to atone for

But how to we do that? How do you REDEEM time? I think it starts by making the most of your time “NOW.”

The biblical book of Psalms is mostly attributed to David, as he is one of the key contributors. You know, the killed a giant with a slingshot guy. But “psalms” simply means “songs.” The book of Psalms is a collection of songs and prayers to God by various Jewish writers, although David did write many of them. Some reflect good times with joy and praise, still others are in hard times and express mourning and regret. One of the chapters that is not written by David is Psalm 90, which is credited to Moses. Now whether this is burning bush, parting the Red Sea, Charlton Heston in the Ten Commandments Moses, I guess we maybe don’t know for sure. I mean, there were probably other guys named Moses I would imagine. But it could be! The guy was kind of a big deal in Hebrew history, so somebody would have made notes about what he said, right? But whoever it was that wrote this psalm understood the importance of time.

Psalms 90:12 – Teach us to number our days carefully
so that we may develop wisdom in our hearts.”

Translation? Using our time wisely is just smart! And it starts in the “nows” with a focus on the little things. It progresses by being intentional to what is truly important to you … your core values if you will. If your actions don’t line up with what your mouth says is important, you might have to give your priorities an overhaul.

“Sure, sure,” you say, “but how?”

Well, my first suggestion would be S L O W D O W N. If the world is whizzing past you…or more like you whizzing past the world, you don’t see much as it blurs by in the fast lane. So it might be time to hit your blinker and safely get over to the right. ALL THE WAY TO THE RIGHT! Into the slow lane. Don’t panic! You’re still moving – and you’ll still get to your destination don’t worry. But you know what else it allows for? An exit onto an unintended path that you didn’t even see was there from all they way over in the fast lane.

What else? Stop multi-taking! (OUCH I feel attacked!) I am the Queen of Multi-tasking. It is a badge that I wear proudly. I will darn near break my arm off in an effort to carry every blasted grocery bag in one trip. Making dinner? I’ll bet you dollars to donuts that I can get everything out of the pantry or refrigerator in one carry. Shoot, I have been known to put Clorox wipes under my feet as I went to wipe up the floor as I was going – nope not kidding.

But what about when that one grocery bag breaks under the strain? Or my most notable…the box of blueberries teetering precariously on top of the carefully stacked pyramid from the refrigerator tips and sends blueberries in a scattered frenzy like a herd of wild geese at the sound of a gunshot – nope not kidding. I spent more time trying to sweep those blueberries into the dustpan than I would have if I would have just made more than one trip – in the whole two feet from my fridge to the counter – nope not kidding.

“Be present,” haven’t you heard that chanted like a motivational speaker mantra? I don’t think it takes meditations and deep breathing exercises to do that, although they might be beneficial for the slowing down part. For me, to be present involves using the five senses that we have. Now some may argue that there are six, and if you have an extra, feel free to use it. But I think that anomaly bypassed me.

In order to see, you have to look. In order to hear, you have to listen. In order to taste, you can’t just shovel your food in mindlessly in front of the television. (Attacking myself again!) And smelling and touching involve effort; they require intension. Remember that word?

Life may be a journey, but it is a journey of small moments and little things, and it is the stringing together of these little things that turn a life into living. Maybe whoever said to stop and smell the roses was a multi-tasker in the fast lane of life too. And maybe, just maybe, they decided to take a different exit.

…and that’s the way the intentional cookie crumbles.

“A frivolous gift is a gift, nonetheless”

Childhood Christmas memories play in my head like old home movies on 8mm film, flipping with a stop action fluidity, in the colors of a faded Polaroid. Recollections pieced together by actual memory and photo captures I’ve seen. If I let myself just soak in them, the same feelings bubble up inside, that of a little girl anticipating Santa, building like a freshly shaken bottle of soda growing to a burst.

My first memories are from the brown shingled house where I was born. It sat at the top of a hill, which I always thought made us important. I’m sure my dad didn’t agree on grass cutting day as he would lower and hoist the gas-powered lawn mower on a rope, up and down that steep slope. At the bottom of the lawn stood a low stone wall which matched the stone of the front porch with its pillars, and I knew from bedtime stories that walls were built around castles and fortresses, so surely that made me a princess all the same!

Our Christmas tree (the same artificial one year after year) towered over me, covered each year in shiny gold garland or my favorite, thin silver tinsel. Did you know that “tinsel” comes from a French word that means “sparkle?” And sparkle it did, reflecting every brightly colored light from pink, to blue, to yellow. By all my standards today of Christmas décor, it was tacky! And the tackier it was, the more I loved it. Eventually the strands of tinsel never fully came off, so it was a combination of whatever the design plan was for that year, embellished with the remnants of years before.

Some years a star graced the top, on others perched a shiny gold angel. She was my favorite with her rick-rack trimmed cardboard arms clasped in prayer, confirmed by her plastic sculpted closed eyes. Her doll like hair was blonde on the top, curled close to her head like when my mom wrapped my hair in pink sponge rollers.

I only remember one Christmas morning though. It was the year that I thought I’d been bad. Now, I’m a redhead and was a precocious child, and I could be a little mischievous at times. But I was never bad!

I dashed down the staircase in my long flannel nightgown and bare feet (which is still how I prefer my feet) and peered over the thick wooden bannister to see what Santa had left for me. There on the floor, just in front of the lit tree was a metal, windup lady bug, whirring in a circle — alone. I don’t remember what I thought in that moment, but the hot tears that streamed down my flushed little cheeks are etched in those home movie memories.

My dad came to the rescue fast, running to take me off the steps, realizing he had made a huge error in judgement. “No, no, no”, he said, “Santa just left that as an announcement that he was here! There was too much to leave under the tree, so he left it all in the dining room.”

There lined up against my mom’s buffet cabinet, loaded with the dishes that we never used, was an assortment of toys and paper covered treasures. Of all of those toys that year, the only one I still recall…other than the ominous ladybug…is a pop gun. Now who gives a girl a popgun! you might say. My answer? My dad. I loved my fair share of baby dolls and Barbies, but I had fun making mud pies and playing with that popgun just the same. My dad was all about non-gender specific toys way before it was cool!

Now that I’m all grown up, although some would argue the validity of that statement, it’s easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of a commercialized Christmas. The search for the perfect gift or the aim to top the last one. We forget the reason that we exchange gifts at Christmas in the first place.

Christians share gifts because it is a reminder of the greatest gift that they have been given by God, Jesus. After his birth, the wise men brought gifts to him. We say three wise men because there were three gifts, but there could have only been two, or there could have been two hundred, we really don’t know.

The idea of gifts from Santa came from the legends of St. Nicholas, who was a Bishop in the 4th century. He was said to come from a wealthy family who raised him as a devout Christian. Orphaned at a young age by illness, he took very seriously the words of Jesus to sell what you own and give to the poor. His entire inheritance was used to take care of those in need.

Even hanging stockings comes from the stories of this generous man. As I heard it, a poor man had three daughters. He had no dowry to give for his daughters to be married so they would be sold into slavery. Mysteriously, on three separate occasions, a bag of gold would appear, tossed into shoes or stockings that were drying by the fire. This led to children leaving stockings or shoes out for St. Nicholas to fill. And so began the legend of St. Nick the gift giver.

But giving was never meant to be the focus. The focus was always to be thankful and to care for one another, remembering that God takes care of us, similar to the way an orphan named Nicholas believed that it was his responsibility to use what he was given to help others.

So I would encourage you, and myself, to focus on the gifts that can’t be measured by a price tag or wrapped in ribbons. Take this time to shift your heart to see the miracles in your life every day, no matter how small. The laughter of child, the hug of a loved one, the gathering of family, a table full of food when others have none. Because these are truly gifts!

Much like I don’t remember what other gifts were there that Christmas morning so long ago, you and others won’t remember every present bought or how it was wrapped. But they will carry with them the memories of your love for them and the unity of family. Those who are alone will remember when you included them and shared just a small portion of your time. Holiday workers will recall that you were kind and patient with them when others were not. And these are the things that show we have truly received what God gave us that first Christmas Day, when we act as that baby in Bethlehem would have taught us.

…and that’s the way the Christmas cookie crumbles. Wishing you and yours a safe and happy holiday season from me and mine.

“Your uniqueness is more than an outward experience”

You are special, you’re the only one;
You’re the only one like you.
There isn’t another in the whole wide world
Who can do the things you do.” – Barney

30 pounds! There I said it. 30 pounds is what I gained during the pandemic pack-it-on. Sure, I had knee surgery. Sure, I had T-W-O knee surgeries! But you know what I also had? Door Dash, and Uber Eats, and well, they told me I had to support my local restaurants in their time of need! I did it for the economy!

T-H-I-R-T-Y. It hurts typing that. It hurts not only admitting it to you but admitting it to myself. And I’m struggling! I don’t want to admit that to you either. I don’t want you to know when depression rears it’s ugly head. I don’t want you to know all the ridiculous thoughts that anxiety torments me with every time I look in the mirror lately…every time I try to zip that dress…every time I put another bite of food in my mouth.

I just want to shut down. And I think that in some ways I have for a few days. But you know what that does? It just makes me feel guilty on top of all that! I have a great life, I have good health, I have a wonderful family who I love dearly and who love me back, and I spend every day with the love of my life – who, I should mention, loves every single ounce of me including T-H-I-R-T-Y additional pounds. I have a roof over my head, a job that I enjoy, and plenty of food to eat…thus exhibited by the extra poundage, aye! I have a closet and dresser full of clothes – most that fit and some that don’t. I am safe, I am loved, I am blessed!

What’s truly wrong with me is my perspective. Perception may be reality, but perspective is most often the key to happiness. I don’t know who said that, but I saw it on wall decor somewhere.

Just when you think you know something, you have to look at it in another way. Even though it may seem silly or wrong, you must try.” -John Keating, Dead Poets Society

https://youtu.be/EiOebLsmIk8

I have been so focused on what I see, that I have lost sight of what others SHOULD see. Because who I am is not my outward appearance. What is on the outside may be what people notice first, but it’s not what they “see.”

Hear me now, I had filled myself with such stinkin’ thinkin’ that I had myself believing it! I had myself so focused on a dress size and what I was going to wear to an event, that I forgot who I was! Now, I don’t know about you, but sometimes when my Wormwood starts whispering in my ear in my own voice, it’s hard not to listen…even though it’s usually lies. So my typical response, is to read my Bible or throw on a podcast sermon…which is what I have done for the last few days. But sometimes, it’s not about sermons it’s about surrender. So today, my spirit said, nope! You’re not listening to Elevation Church today, you’re listening to Elevation Worship. So I did.

And I was reminded….

If He dresses the lilies with beauty and splendor
How much more will He clothe you?
If He watched over every sparrow
How much more does He love you?

Jireh, You are enough

I’m already loved
I’m already chosen
I know who I am
I know what You’ve spoken

Matthew 6 (quoted from The Message version) puts it this way:  “Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion—do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them. If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you?

And there was the epiphany.

I’ve been struggling so much this week with anxiety and depression that I just can’t put my finger on. I was truly convicted about being so concerned and worried about how I look and what I want people to see when they look at me, that I have lost sight of WHO they should see IN me.

But it’s not about me! It’s about my relationship with Christ and my relationship with others. It’s about being a light, a hope, a help, a friend. It’s about sharing love in a world that has forgotten about kindness. And you know what, I always used to tell my kids that the best way to stop focusing on everything wrong in your own life is to help someone else. Because we all struggle and we all have a hard time sometimes seeing all the good in our lives. And sometimes we just need a reminder. I hope this was that for you!

You are strong! You are beautiful! You are chosen! You are loved!

…and maybe I will just eat the crumbled cookie.

“You are the center of every group’s attention”

When I was a young girl, self esteem was something that I struggled with. I sprouted to 5′ 7″ by seventh grade, and towered over the little petite girls in my class. This caused two things, stooped shoulders from constantly trying to shrink down and the awkward grace of a three-legged elephant. My gangly limbs were always in the way and I was constantly tripping over my own feet.

All of my class pictures show me in the back row, standing with the boys, while all the sweet little girls sat in chairs at the front with their hands folded neatly in their laps. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only girl in the back row. LaDonna kept me company every year. It might not have been as bad if they would have placed us together, but instead we always flanked the end of the row like a pair of black and white bookends. Sometimes we would shrink down, hoping that maybe the photographer would see us smaller and at least put us on the first row of risers. But no, that was for the short boys, the other awkward group. But they had hope! Hope of growing over the summer and finally taking their place on that top riser. LaDonna and I just hoped we wouldn’t still be up here with them.

I was never one of the popular girls although I was kind of like the side kick. I was higher on the food chain than Millie who always smelled like old cheese or Carolyn who was just too delightful and Heavenly minded to be any earthly good, but mostly they just kept me around to clean up their trash and run their errands. Middle school errands like carrying books or delivering notes. To me though, it was more like a Squire, you know, learning the ropes of how to be popular by mucking the proverbial stalls and cleaning up the discarded Little Debbie wrappers from the cafeteria table. I make it sound worse than it was. I never really minded and I still got to go to their house after school or to the mall on the weekends. I considered it paying my dues of social currency.

People never really noticed me, but that was better. I got to hide behind their brightness. It was much worse to be seen and singled out than to be ignored all together. And being ignored was infinitesimally better than being noticed for something that became the brunt of the joke that day…or week.

I never tried to be a loner, but I wasn’t a joiner either. I would much rather sit and read at recess than…God forbid…play KICKBALL! Just thinking about it now is enough to make me break out in hives! I can still remember my heart beating so hard that I could feel it surging in my hands when it was my turn. My greatest fear was totally missing the ball or worse, I would trip over my fake saddle-shoed feet and land with my skirt up over my head. And trying to calculate the amount of steps to ensure that your “kicking foot” (in my case, my right) would be at the right place at the right time, when the red rubber ball cleared the plane of the base. Life was so much easier in Frist Grade where all you had to worry about was someone pushing you too high on the swings or the boys catching you after you kicked them in the shins.

I could always count on my dad to keep things in perspective for me though. His form of encouragement came in the form of nonchalance and backhanded compliments. The words of wisdom that have stuck with me through my life is “don’t think that you’re so important that people are paying attention to you.” Which was sometimes followed up with, “you know in football how they all get in that huddle? Yeah, they aren’t talking about you.” To my dad, bullying was just kids being kids and it was a form a making you tough.

Now don’t get me wrong, I loved my dad and I was a “Daddy’s girl” for sure, but once I reached the age of 10, maybe 12, life became less about softening blows and more about learning about hard knocks, or “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps” because “cowgirls don’t cry,” more of his fatherly colloquialisms. I resented it then, but I realize now how much it shaped me.

Proverbs 16:18 (HCSB) says that “pride comes before destruction, and an arrogant spirit before a fall.”

I used to think that “pride” was just when you thought too highly of yourself. But I’ve come to realize that it’s also a form of pride when you think too lowly of yourself. You see, it isn’t the low or high that makes it prideful, it’s thinking of yourself in an unhealthy and self-absorbed way that exhibits pride.

I remember in elementary school, there was a poster that hung on the wall with a cartoon boy that said “I know I’m somebody, cause God don’t make no junk!” Now, I’m sure the English teachers cringed every time they passed it, but the message rang true, even today.

David in Psalm 139 talks about how God knew us before anyone else and made us exactly how we are supposed to; that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” Think about this for a second, God knew you before anyone else, even your mother. We all had a period of time that we were still in secret. But we were never a secret to God. He handcrafted us, each one as different as snowflakes.

So what I have come to embrace now in my struggle for self confidence as well as self awareness is the word humility. What’s the difference? Well, I think that low self-esteem is seeing yourself as weakness and flaws. Humility is understanding the amazing miracle that life is. C.S. Lewis defines it best as “humility is not thinking less of yourself but thinking of yourself less.” So the way I see it, if your focus is always on others, then you really don’t have time to think too highly or too lowly of yourself.

I still struggle once in awhile with the number on the scale or the tag in the back of my dress, but if I could go back in time, I would tell that little girl to stand up straight! In fact, now I wish I were taller…5′ 10″ would be nice. There I go again don’t I. Still not happy with who and what I am. Although the “pride goes before a fall” comes to my mind every once in awhile, usually while wearing heels or wearing heels and walking down the steps. Because can still trip up the stairs – it’s a remarkable talent.

…and that’s the way the cookie crumbles.

“A great pleasure in life is doing what others say your can’t”

When my boys were little, I was blessed to have my parents live just three blocks from our house. It wasn’t the home I grew up in, they actually moved to that side of town after my oldest son was born which was a godsend! My mom kept both boys while I continued to work outside the home which was a constant comfort to me as any working mom can understand.

Once they were old enough to explore the neighborhood together on their bikes, I knew that I would end up getting a call sooner or later that they had made a pitstop with Grandmom and Grandad. Usually because she was doing something that interested them or he was watching a ballgame.

One particular weekend, my older sister and her husband were over their house fixing something or taking care of something. By older, I mean a lot of people thought she was my mom. There was 16 years between my brother and I, 20 years between my sister and I, and yet another sister a year older than her. I was an aunt at the age of 4 which was more difficult for my nieces and nephews than it was for me, evidenced in the resounding “you’re not the boss of me” that I heard often. That was because I spent a lot of time at my sister’s house. We were close for as long as I can remember, and then her having children around my age, I felt like they were instant playmates! I often joked that I was an only child with siblings, because they were all out of the house not long after my earliest memories.

My sister took me everywhere with her own children and taught me along the way. My first attempt at cooking was Porcupine Meatballs from her Better Homes and Gardens cookbook with its red and white plaid cover; and if you’re wondering, yes, I still have the recipe. She constantly corrected my grammar and my posture (which is still lacking) and even tried tirelessly to teach me to sew, which was futile. I seem to have a problem with a straight line. She even tried taping a fluorescent orange ribbon along the sewing machine line I was to follow. Alas, my stitching was still crooked! We all have gifts, and mine was not meant to be a seamstress.

But I digress, back to the story. My son rode by and saw his aunt outside working on something and stopped to check it out. I don’t remember specifically what she was trying to do, but when my son asked her why she was doing it, she answered, “because Uncle George told me that he didn’t think I could do it by myself.” My son laughed and said, “you sound like my mom!” My sister proudly answered, “I hope so! I raised her!” and she was right.

I have been called stubborn, strong-willed, headstrong, and occasionally difficult. And the surest way to get me to do something is to believe that I can’t! I may not always prove you wrong, but I will do my darndest to try!

But you know what, maybe life isn’t about proving others wrong…

Philippians 2:3-4 says “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.  Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

Now that’s not to say that I still won’t take on a challenge. But the older I get, I try to think about what exactly I am trying to prove. If the goal is to better myself and to learn and grow to become a better person, then I’m all in. If my purpose is just to prove others wrong, then I am learning to put myself in check because peace is more important.

I used to joke with an elder at my church, who also happened to be my friend’s grandad, that God didn’t give me a spirit of meekness, and we were both ok with that. It wasn’t until much later that I realized that was because I didn’t know what meekness was. I assumed that being meek was the epitome of a timid little mouse, or a doormat to be walked on. I couldn’t have been more wrong! Jesus was the perfect example of meekness, and he was anything but a timid, little doormat!

Meekness is strength that is brought under control with humility and a denial of self in the interest of others, along with a reliance on God. Another way I have heard it is that meekness is like a horse that is brought under control. All of that beautiful strength that they exhibit has to be targeted in order to be useful. I heard somewhere that there was a term called “meeking a horse.” The goal was not to strip a horse of its power but instead to HARNESS that power. To contain wild independence and develop it into loyalty and discipline.

This is the place where we can be useful to God. He doesn’t need timid little church mice, he needs strong people that are willing to hear from Him in order to be used for His purpose. 2 Corinthians 12:9 tell us that God’s power is revealed in our weakness. We could maybe also say in our meekness.

I challenge you to join me in reflecting on your motivations. I am trying to live my life focused less on the what I do and more on the why I do it. Unfortunately this happens more in the hindsight than the foresight, but just like you, I’m a work in progress.

…and that’s how the stubborn cookie crumbles.