I don't consistently read many blogs, but they're always there, on my news feed, "6 ways to serve your husband today!", or "How to create more peace in your home in 5 easy steps!". Sometimes I click on them; they always contain sound biblical advice, but in the midst of , "Steve and I had a little tiff. I was angry, hey, I'm not perfect, haha, so I went to my room and had a little sit down with the Holy Spirit, and He told me, Marsha, you're just not edifying your husband when you act this way. If you kissed him passionately when he walked in the door and met his needs first, and forgave him when you squabble, you wouldn't have this unwholesome sinful attitude, and I said, you know what HS, you're totally right, I'm going to go out there right now with a big smile, and apologize, and seduce my man in proper Christian housewife fashion, by golly. Thanks for the chat." I get weary. That's an exaggeration, I know, and I do learn good stuff from those girls, but apparently, they are miles ahead of me on the quick repentance and turnaround scale.
Sometimes, I just want to hear one of these women say, "'After 10 years, for the love, you'd think that man could walk in the door, and see that look in my eye that indicates impending madness, and just say, 'Okay, mommy's going to retreat to the bathtub for a little timeout, daddy's got this', but due to the male inability to read subtle facial cues, said interception failed to occur, and mommy lost her um, composure, during dinner time and screamed disproportionately to the present transgression, like a lunatic." I mean, I am I alone???? I just want someone else to get real, and say, just because you love Jesus doesn't mean you never break open at the seams, and fail to properly excuse yourself for a little chat with HS before things get ugly. Sometimes it gets ugly and raw, even when you do love Jesus.
I want to serve my husband today! and create peace in my home as much as the next person, but there aren't five easy steps. The steps are hard, and I get tired, and I just want to hear someone acknowledge that. Jesus gets me back on track. He holds my marriage together when I'm so tired I could throw in the towel. He brings me back when I think that I'm such a terrible mother that my children would be better of without me, but the hard days are still real. They remind me of my need. They bring me low before Jesus. They make me so thankful that I have him to mend me and know my heart. So from this mommy blogger to you: You're not alone, your ugly isn't worse than everyone else's. It isn't too much for Jesus. You aren't the only one who gets tired, who doubts yourself, who just wants a break, or a sound proof room to scream in. We're in this together, and we've got Jesus, and bath tubs, and wine...we're gonna be ok.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Friday, November 28, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, November 10, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Walk the Line
I started out this morning reading a blog post on keeping perspective about what we have verses what we are made to feel we have to have. In the post the blogger gives us a tour of her kitchen and all of the overwhelming blessings it possess, even while not being the Better Homes kitchen of the year. It is absolutely true that the field of advertising is driven by the force of feminine dissatisfaction. Media creates and breeds it; it is rampant among us. We compare ourselves to each other via social media, we compare our menus, workout routines and homes via pinterest, and many of us compare our lives to those in magazines and television....to people and homes that aren't even real! It plants the seed of keeping up with the Jones, but there are no Jonse's, the Jone's are an advertising ploy invented to give us a standard to which we feel obligated to strive.
Having recently built a home, while simultaneously enduring an uncomfortable third pregnancy, I have spent more than my fair share of time on pinterest. It was an invaluable tool in keeping track of my ideas in a cohesive way, but I realized, the line is fine. Country Living and Pinterest should exist to inspire us, not to drive us toward guilt and discontent. They should encourage us to take positive action in our lives, not to while away time and resources wishing for something that we will never have, use, or be.
I had a bit of guilt after reading the afore mentioned blog post, because I do have subway tile back splash, the supposedly "it" thing that the blogger was made to feel less than for not having. Am I overly materialistic because I have an esthetically pleasing kitchen? But I didn't choose subway tile back splash because it was the "it" thing, I didn't even know that. I chose it because it was simple and clean and easy to wipe down, and that will still be true 20 years from not when there is a new "it" thing, and I will not want to remodel my kitchen. My home is beautiful, but it isn't beautiful because it's fancy or expensive, it's beautiful because I know my family deep down, and I chose things that were going to work for us in the long term, where we would be comfortable, and not feel pressured to change every time a new "it" rolls around, because we know who we are, and our space reflects that. I will love my home even when it's out of style, because I used media as a tool to inspire, rather than allowing it to become an agent of dissatisfaction. The bible talks about guarding our hearts, and there is so much more to guard from today than there ever has been before: fictional Jones's lurk around every corner sending the message, "You are not enough. You are not lovely, your home is lacking, if you just have this, you will be happy." We think we don't heed the message, but we hear it so often, bombarding us from every avenue. We are not invulnerable; we start to wonder, do I need that? Is happiness lurking just around the bend, behind the kitchen aid mixer and the kurig?
It's a fine line between inspiration and doubt. Surround yourself with things that inspire, ingest media that fills you with the truth, seek people who don't judge your worth by the trappings of your existence, those that motivate you toward greater perspective. Use facebook to connect, not compare. Allow yourself to be encouraged and inspired, but don't buy into discontent. Media is a great tool of empathy, connection, and learning, but it's a slippery slope. Guard your heart; walk the line.
Having recently built a home, while simultaneously enduring an uncomfortable third pregnancy, I have spent more than my fair share of time on pinterest. It was an invaluable tool in keeping track of my ideas in a cohesive way, but I realized, the line is fine. Country Living and Pinterest should exist to inspire us, not to drive us toward guilt and discontent. They should encourage us to take positive action in our lives, not to while away time and resources wishing for something that we will never have, use, or be.
I had a bit of guilt after reading the afore mentioned blog post, because I do have subway tile back splash, the supposedly "it" thing that the blogger was made to feel less than for not having. Am I overly materialistic because I have an esthetically pleasing kitchen? But I didn't choose subway tile back splash because it was the "it" thing, I didn't even know that. I chose it because it was simple and clean and easy to wipe down, and that will still be true 20 years from not when there is a new "it" thing, and I will not want to remodel my kitchen. My home is beautiful, but it isn't beautiful because it's fancy or expensive, it's beautiful because I know my family deep down, and I chose things that were going to work for us in the long term, where we would be comfortable, and not feel pressured to change every time a new "it" rolls around, because we know who we are, and our space reflects that. I will love my home even when it's out of style, because I used media as a tool to inspire, rather than allowing it to become an agent of dissatisfaction. The bible talks about guarding our hearts, and there is so much more to guard from today than there ever has been before: fictional Jones's lurk around every corner sending the message, "You are not enough. You are not lovely, your home is lacking, if you just have this, you will be happy." We think we don't heed the message, but we hear it so often, bombarding us from every avenue. We are not invulnerable; we start to wonder, do I need that? Is happiness lurking just around the bend, behind the kitchen aid mixer and the kurig?
It's a fine line between inspiration and doubt. Surround yourself with things that inspire, ingest media that fills you with the truth, seek people who don't judge your worth by the trappings of your existence, those that motivate you toward greater perspective. Use facebook to connect, not compare. Allow yourself to be encouraged and inspired, but don't buy into discontent. Media is a great tool of empathy, connection, and learning, but it's a slippery slope. Guard your heart; walk the line.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
For believers
I look around and I see it: the world becoming more and more hateful of Christ-like things. The Dugger's are the butt of jokes, we are the object of ridicule...stay at home mom's who submit to our husband's, work in our homes, and pour into our families: those women are brainwashed! Because who could ever make such a choice deliberately? Even women's lib has swung to the other side of the pendulum, abandoning woman who would choose domesticity, but being able to choose, wasn't that the point?
The bible spells it out, clear as living water, family will turn against family, hate for the truth will reign in this world. As people follow subjective morality, sin will lie down among us, and be seen as benign, " for there is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death." (Proverbs 14:12). Gone even is the pretense of a Christian nation.
You Christian friend are rowing upstream. In a sound boat, traveling away from disaster, but never the less, it gets hard sometimes, teaching kids to paddle against the current; not capsizing the boat and drifting downstream. I think this is why Paul spends the majority of the new testament encouraging his friends, extending them an oar. So often, I feel like I can go it alone, here in my Hobbit hole, with a husband who loves me for who I am, I can put my nose down to the mess out there. But Christ doesn't call us to let one another gasp for breath. We must extend, encourage, receive encouragement.
I have a card in my top drawer, I cried when I read it. Your a good mom, she said....a life buoy. These are hard times, invite a mom to coffee, write a note of thanks or encouragement, pray for one another, be a conduit of grace. Do not let any who belong to Christ paddle alone, least of all yourself.
The bible spells it out, clear as living water, family will turn against family, hate for the truth will reign in this world. As people follow subjective morality, sin will lie down among us, and be seen as benign, " for there is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death." (Proverbs 14:12). Gone even is the pretense of a Christian nation.
You Christian friend are rowing upstream. In a sound boat, traveling away from disaster, but never the less, it gets hard sometimes, teaching kids to paddle against the current; not capsizing the boat and drifting downstream. I think this is why Paul spends the majority of the new testament encouraging his friends, extending them an oar. So often, I feel like I can go it alone, here in my Hobbit hole, with a husband who loves me for who I am, I can put my nose down to the mess out there. But Christ doesn't call us to let one another gasp for breath. We must extend, encourage, receive encouragement.
I have a card in my top drawer, I cried when I read it. Your a good mom, she said....a life buoy. These are hard times, invite a mom to coffee, write a note of thanks or encouragement, pray for one another, be a conduit of grace. Do not let any who belong to Christ paddle alone, least of all yourself.
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