Too Legit to Quit: How I know my God is the real deal

I have a secret, a secret that all believers know.  God does offer proof; only he offers it AFTER we offer him our faith.  Many times, I thought I would believe in Him, if only he offered me a sign, but He doesn't work that way....during His time on earth, he didn't even do miracles in his own home town.  Why? Because, the people who knew him since he was a wee lad already had their minds made up about who he was.....you can't convince somebody who needs a sign.  Jesus could have slapped me right up side the head (I believe he may have done that, actually), but I wasn't ready to listen, and I wouldn't have know his sign from a hole in the wall. People who are not ready to receive the Holy Spirit will not respond to a persuasive logical argument, a miracle, a sign, a slap upside the head; it is only people in whom the Holy Spirit is at work that can see and accept miracles.

I began as a zombie Christian. I knew who Jesus was, I knew what He'd done, at times in my life I think I believed it was true, but I didn't get it, not really. I did not understand or accept the intimacy of what Christ had done for ME.  I felt nothing.  A zombie Christian is an intellectual believer...I can't know, but I suspect I am not the only one.  A true believer responds to belief.....it's the difference between seeing the gift under the tree and unwrapping it....I don't really know what's in there until I hold it in my hand, open it up, accept it. 

For many years, God pursued me. Invited me to know him, instead of just know of him.  Everywhere I went, he sent me Christians who witnessed to me.  They saw no progress, but they were seed people.  I stored up the seeds the Spirit had given me in my heart, until He had prepared the soil.  Here it is, the proof....I was in the dark.  I am a selfish creature.  I had made such a mess, that there was no way it could be made good again.  On the inside, I could feel poison and despair, and I knew, there was no way I could be any different.  This is who I was, deep down. 

Some days I lose hope; I feel I'm not going forward, I feel stuck in sin, but then I look at where I was, and remember who I was, and I know beyond doubt, that I could not be where I am, without Jesus.  I was in a pit that I could not crawl out of with my own power.  I am not capable of being who I am now on my own.  It simply was not doable. Only the power that He has in my life has given me the life I have today. I know it was Him, it couldn't have been me. He offered me this proof, after, friends, only after I opened the gift. He redeemed my mess and made something beautiful. Because of his work in me, I know, He is the real deal.  And when I forget, he has a way of giving me little reminders, small proofs, like inside jokes, only He and I would recognize, because I whispered them to Him in secret. In His love, He proves himself to me again and again, because I already have faith, the same way he does many times throughout the bible.

Likewise, this post will not convince anyone who is unwilling to take a step in faith.  If however, you are an unbeliever, take it as a seed, hang on to it for a rainy day, ponder it in your heart.  "Evangelism is simply a beggar telling another beggar where he found bread." And if you are a believer, share one another's testimonies for a day when your own is so familiar and comfortable that you forget its power.  Give Him your trust and tell Him your secrets; and see if He does not give them back to you in splendid and mysterious fruits.

Good gifts part 2: soul sisters

When I first became a mother, I had no friends. No one I knew had kids.  The people I was close to in my youth had faded away, and the friends I had made in Washington I severed myself from with my divorce. After that, I got involved in MOPs and made a few friends, but they had mostly left Montana, so here I was second time around, a stay at home mom with a new baby (and an older one), and few close friends.  I was praying for God to give me the kind of friend who knew me the way my childhood best friend had, but one who loved Jesus, and understood what life as a mom was like, someone who would recognize my weird and love me because of it.

One day, after I had been blogging for a little while, a stranger started following my tiny blog.  I noticed we had a few mutual facebook friends, so I figured she must have seen it through them.  I asked my friend Jamie about this girl, because I am insatiably curious, or nosey, whatever, and she exclaimed, "That's the girl who brought me to Christ!" Cool. She lives in Billings, maybe this is the friend I prayed for.

Or maybe not.  Just a few weeks later, she moved to North Dakota, the friendship wasteland, the one that also ate my friend Lisa. ( You North Dakota, are a greedy, friend stealing, dirty word.) I almost thought, I shall not bother investing in getting to know someone with whom I can not drink coffee, but Jenn, she has a way of butting all up in your business, you know, when you need it. She ended up meeting Lisa, and becoming friends with a girl I used to work with, and I ended up meeting people here that she knew to the point of, this is getting weird...She understands things about me that no one else does , because we both sing, and put it aside for a time, because we both write, because we both like to say things strait up, and take things that way too, because we both did things before Jesus that felt irredeemable, and received redemption anyway, and a thousand other tiny similarities. And girlfriend has five, FIVE! kids, so my mama woes ain't (I just said ain't in my writing :/) got nothing (double negative!!) on this girl.

Because the only way we knew each other was by following each others blogs, (which by the way, she just "stumbled" upon, no mutual friends involved), and facebook, and an uncanny number of mutual friends, and a couple of extremely awkward phone conversations, we basically skipped the small talk phase of friendship....like, I know almost nothing about her at all, except for intimate details, and visa versa.  It's like friendship backwards.  I love it. I hate that blind date phase anyway; this is more like arranged marriage or something, God's like, you guys are going to be soul friends, you can figure that other stuff out later, or in heaven, no hurry really.  She senses things, like when I need prayer, or what I might be leaving out of a conversation, or how something in my life felt, and I don't have to bother with how often we have to get together to maintain a friendship or not hurt her feelings (because I'm kind of a hermit) . It's lovely.

And I don't have to be sad when she moves, which she recently did, to Florida, where she is buying a yellow house with a porch to settle down in, so we can sit on our yellow porches, half a world away and pray for each other and smile.  God has given me other great friends in that time, but Jenn is unique to me.  A gift given not how I wanted it, but in the best, best possible way, just how God likes to give gifts, unexpected, and better that you would have picked yourself.

Good gifts

Every single year, I ask my kids what Christmas is really about, and they give me the correct answer, so we go on, saying we know what Christmas is all about, but doing what Christmas is only about in a way that has been twisted from its purpose so drastically that it's barley recognizable. (if you happen to be reading this blog and you are not a Christian, Welcome!, yes, I do know the pagan origins of the holiday, for the purposes of this post, I am talking about it's significance as relates to Jesus Christ, and what gives it true meaning for those of us who are followers of Jesus). Yeah, we usually do a little donating, but by and large this goes unnoticed by our children except as maybe a fun side shopping trip for our "adopted family" or whatever, but for the most part, sacrifice plays a much smaller roll than pretty dresses, toy catalogs, and a fancy tree.  So this year we had a family meeting wherein I told the girls that we are going to be brainstorming some ways to show Jesus' love to people, since this is after all, what Christmas is all about.  We came up with a few, and a prayer that God would show us needs that we could meet.  All in all, the girls went away with a feeling that they would be making some fun crafts for the elderly, and mom and dad would be donating as usual.

Fast forward to a few nights later when we were discussing gift ideas.  Morgan informed me that what she wanted for Christmas was the Frozen karaoke machine, you know, so that she can amplify her "Let it Go" vocals, so that no matter where in the house you may be, you can be sure to be able to enjoy them.  Now truly, I want to hear "Let it Go" belted in 6 year old glory a few more million times, I do, but as I told my wee Elsa, this year, we are doing one book, one clothing item, and one toy (a toy with about half the budget of the Karaoke machine), so that we have the money left over to fund our list. Maybe we could pick out coats and donate them to the kids at the shelter or somewhere. Less plastic junk cluttering up my house, and more Jesus, Win, win! If it would have been possible, I would have received a lethal ice shard to the vital organs. I told her that a six year old with a generous spirit would be likely to receive said karaoke machine for their birthday in January, whereas a 6 ear old who wanted someone else to freeze their buns so they could have  karaoke machine, probably wouldn't. Two and a half weeks delayed gratification, oh the pain! (So you see, happy endings abound, we will, after all be able to enjoy "let it Go!" in it's amplified version, with backup music, I can't wait.)

6 year old dramatics ensued, but so did a really great conversation with my daughter about real people who are not warm and who are hungry, so that we can have another trinket that won't even be important to us in the long run. (Insert more whining). It doesn't seem real to her, she has always had everything she needed. After a while though, big girl questions started to emerge, following Jesus is hard, how do I even hear him, how do I have a relationship with someone I can't even see, giving up what I want is so hard! It left me aching for her. I don't have simple answers to those questions. I did the best I could; I told her that the more we seek Him and His will, the more we talk to Him and read His word, the better we get at recognizing the voice of the spirit.  But, the truth is, I still struggle with those same things sometimes.  Alone, I prayed that my daughter would do those things, and I prayed that He would Please, please speak to her in a way that she could hear.

A couple days went by and I noticed a post on a buy/sell site for coat donations.  The school that the lady's children attended had great need.  I contacted her and told her about the coats.  I asked if we could meet up once I had them, and guess what Y'all.  It was Morgan's school! We wanted to bless kids who needed coats, but it was us who received the blessing of knowing that we have a God who listens, God who hears the prayers of kids who need coats, and those who need to know that God hears them, and that their prayers matter, that when you seek him, He will reveal himself. What a journey to be on with a child, to see them see the mysterious ways of Jesus for the first time, and what a God we have that works in ways unseen and bends down to listen to the prayers of each of his children.

Doritos

The other morning something happened that got me to thinking about the evolution of mothering.
I was washing dishes, up to elbows in suds, when Levi dumped out the remnants of a bag of Doritos all over the floor.  As I scrubbed, he sat there happily in his pile of Doritos, munching. Not clinging to my legs, not hollering "up", not crying, and dear friend, I did nothing. Not only did I do nothing, but as I moved on from the dishes and on to the other demands of the day, I must confess, I left the pile of Doritos on the floor...most.all.day.

Yep, I did. My little son happily rediscovered his pile of booty many times, and as many times, it rescued me from the ankle swarming whine dance as he occupied himself amid the detritus.  Baylie Rose kept saying, "Mama, Levi's eating off the floor!!!" She knows this is most definitely not allowed, and I kept saying, "I know, sweetie, I'm getting to it." "No, you can't have any!"

Ugh. When did I become this mother?

Ok. Most of the time I'm not this mother, but something has changed in me, that is certain.  A 16 month old Morgan would surely have been confined to her playpen while I cleaned it up immediately, whilst administering a lecture on germs, wasted food, and the Dangers of junk food.  Those lectures have served mightily to enhance the vocabulary, but have alas, made no headway in any of the afore mentioned arenas.

It got me thinking about the frantic mother I was, and the way that the expansion of my brood has changed me....One child, berserk Nazi mom, two children, I honestly don't remember, but I like to think of this as the sane middle ground period, 3 children, call the health department!

I think I'll always be a helicopter mom at heart, but I'm learning, not to swoop in and rescue so much, not everything is an emergency.  I had a bit of a zen moment there, with my dirty floor and my son's gleeful Dorito powdered grin. There is a balance that could be achieved here, if I could step back from the small stuff, a new sanity amid the chaos....either that, or that a kid will quit whining if you give it a Dorito. No, no that can't be it, my inner gym girl would never allow me to be that zen.