This morning I saw a mouse run across my kitchen floor. I literally heard the little scampering feet and looked up to see a little dark streak out of the corner of my eye.
My first reaction was to fuss at Dakota, who was not 6 feet from there, dozing while I did my Bible study. She should be reacting to this little invader. She surely reacts strongly enough to every random car and child on a bicycle that comes near the house.
Next, I stalked the little critter to see if I could tell where he had gone. Alas, no luck! I also had no shoes on, if he did run out at me. Yes, I would stomp him if I could. Bloodthirsty or no, he has invaded my territory and the gloves are off. He's going down!
So, I pulled out my box of mouse-eliminating paraphernalia. Oh, I have some of everything! Old fashioned, standard mousetraps, and glue traps of various shapes and sizes. (I don't do poison because of dogs and children.) They are now placed in some strategic locations.
Then I started looking for the why of the situation. Is there spilled food somewhere that I missed that is attracting him? I checked in the pantry and then headed to the garage. Sure enough, I found a ton of dog food on the floor behind the dog food container. Note to self: find a better way for the 5-year old to dip up the dog food. I cleaned up the dog food and went back to my Bible study.
I probably should have been more prepared, had my traps out already. It is fall and we have had some cooler days. Inevitably this time of year, some furry critter is foolish enough to try to find hospitality at the Wright house. And, inevitably, he never makes it out alive. I am determined here. I don't want those nasty creatures in my home, touching my stuff.
But am I this determined when it comes to keeping out the nastiest creature of all -- Satan?
Y'all, I had a whole blog post prepared for this morning. Reading back over it, it was a bit...whiny. I know that days like this come, that they are part of life here on this rock, especially in grief, but do I need to wallow in them?
I had been unprepared for the Creature scurrying in under cover of
night whispering yuckies in my ear...and he is the one who is in charge of the night! I should have
expected him. I should have been better prepared to handle the
situation, both before and after. That negative poison is no good for
me...and certainly is not good to spew out and pass on in this venue.
In my personal Bible study this morning, I was reading toward the end of the book of Nehemiah. The remnant who had returned rebuilt the wall in record time, and they praised God for that, but they still had some concerns...chiefly, their brothers and sisters still in captivity.
Know what they did? They spent time rereading to the assembly the Word of God and retelling the God story they had been given.
My God story over the past nearly-five years could fill a book...in fact, I hope to do just that.
God has been there, there, there! By recounting that story, remembering all the times He has taken care of me, held me up, saved me from the darkness that could envelope me...I can be free of it.
But it is all about choice.
I have to be prepared, then be ready to take action...away from Satan and toward God.
God can handle my bad days. After all, He knew they were coming. In His word, He says "in this world you will have trouble" (John 16:33). But He also says to take heart, for He has overcome the world.
So my whining will be replaced by rejoicing. It could be much worse than it is. Those negative thoughts, that whiny-ness serves no purpose. I can acknowledge the tough days to God and move on.
The ugly little thoughts are going down, just like the critter in my house. I am determined!
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. - Proverbs 3:5
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
A Tale of Two Gifts
This week I got two precious gifts of flowers.
My sweet friend Shari, knowing that Keith's birthday had just passed, and knowing that gifts are my love language, sent a wonderful dozen multicolored roses. They grace my kitchen counter in their full array, seeming to burst further open each day, yet staying fresh and lovely. As I looked this morning, their centers are actually starting to show, they have opened so far...yet not a petal has fallen. They are some of the prettiest roses I have ever received. They make me smile just looking at them.
The other gift was much different...but equally as sweet. A four-year old girl came with her mom for the first time to Bible study. As she left her house, she picked a clover from her front yard, and told her mom she wanted to take it to "Mrs. Liz." When she arrived, she shyly presented me with her gift, and we found a vase to put it on my kitchen counter. This sweet little clover is one of the sweetest gifts I have ever received.
It seems to be a week for me to receive gifts...and God has been no exception.
I have been studying the gift of manna to the Israelites this week, and this gift has a special meaning to me.
God's provision and His grace floor me...quite literally.
A few weeks after Keith died, a woman called me to come do a security investigation on one of my neighbors for his new government-related job. This is a pretty routine thing in our area. As we were talking about my neighbor and the family, I talked about how they had been assisting me since Keith had died, which I found to be a strong indicator of their character and beliefs.
The woman asked me if I was a believer and we started talking about things that were a lot more important than Chris's security clearance.
She told me the story of her church, which had been going through a really rough time and had lost a couple young members of the congregation. Her preacher had preached on manna as part of his messages of healing, and about God's grace wrapped up in that manna each morning.
For the Israelites, there was always enough manna for each morning. Whether they collected a little or a lot, when they measured the amount, it was always enough to meet their needs. Not extra, not some to save for tomorrow, but always enough. As long as they tried, it was enough.
As a result of our conversation...and her promise to pray for me, I am sure...I started mentally picking up my manna for the day each morning as I nursed baby Tanner.
And I got by.
More than that...we continued to thrive as a family. The manna was enough.
I get asked all the time, "How do you do it?"
The answer is daily reliance on my Savior. In my own strength I cannot do this. Not for a day. Not for an hour. Probably not for a minute.
In my own strength, I am short-tempered, sometimes mean, and often whiny.
I do not do this in my own strength.
Every day, I am in nearly constant communication with my Lord...through His Word; through His people; through prayer; through uplifting music; through wise words from books, devotions, and sermons.
And it is enough.
The manna has always, always, always been there.
And I know it always will be.
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. - James 1:17
My sweet friend Shari, knowing that Keith's birthday had just passed, and knowing that gifts are my love language, sent a wonderful dozen multicolored roses. They grace my kitchen counter in their full array, seeming to burst further open each day, yet staying fresh and lovely. As I looked this morning, their centers are actually starting to show, they have opened so far...yet not a petal has fallen. They are some of the prettiest roses I have ever received. They make me smile just looking at them.
The other gift was much different...but equally as sweet. A four-year old girl came with her mom for the first time to Bible study. As she left her house, she picked a clover from her front yard, and told her mom she wanted to take it to "Mrs. Liz." When she arrived, she shyly presented me with her gift, and we found a vase to put it on my kitchen counter. This sweet little clover is one of the sweetest gifts I have ever received.
It seems to be a week for me to receive gifts...and God has been no exception.
I have been studying the gift of manna to the Israelites this week, and this gift has a special meaning to me.
God's provision and His grace floor me...quite literally.
A few weeks after Keith died, a woman called me to come do a security investigation on one of my neighbors for his new government-related job. This is a pretty routine thing in our area. As we were talking about my neighbor and the family, I talked about how they had been assisting me since Keith had died, which I found to be a strong indicator of their character and beliefs.
The woman asked me if I was a believer and we started talking about things that were a lot more important than Chris's security clearance.
She told me the story of her church, which had been going through a really rough time and had lost a couple young members of the congregation. Her preacher had preached on manna as part of his messages of healing, and about God's grace wrapped up in that manna each morning.
For the Israelites, there was always enough manna for each morning. Whether they collected a little or a lot, when they measured the amount, it was always enough to meet their needs. Not extra, not some to save for tomorrow, but always enough. As long as they tried, it was enough.
As a result of our conversation...and her promise to pray for me, I am sure...I started mentally picking up my manna for the day each morning as I nursed baby Tanner.
And I got by.
More than that...we continued to thrive as a family. The manna was enough.
I get asked all the time, "How do you do it?"
The answer is daily reliance on my Savior. In my own strength I cannot do this. Not for a day. Not for an hour. Probably not for a minute.
In my own strength, I am short-tempered, sometimes mean, and often whiny.
I do not do this in my own strength.
Every day, I am in nearly constant communication with my Lord...through His Word; through His people; through prayer; through uplifting music; through wise words from books, devotions, and sermons.
And it is enough.
The manna has always, always, always been there.
And I know it always will be.
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. - James 1:17
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Duct Tape, Anyone?!
Yesterday at Alex's soccer game, I made a mom-of-teen faux pax.
He was the goalie, the ball passed by on the outside of the goal (good for his team), and headed toward the road...where there was a car coming.
I couldn't help it. Before I knew it, out of my mouth comes, "Watch the car, Alex!"
He shot me a look that said, "Really, Mom?!"
The other parents around me tittered. They knew I had blown it...and that I would hear it from my teen.
They were right. He told me later that I had thrown off his game, and that he missed the next shot that came to him at goal because he was afraid what would be coming out of my mouth. He also told me he would be keeping duct tape on hand in case I lost control again...and that he would leave the field and come use it.
I believe him. He was steamed...and embarrassed.
I slunk away mentally, properly chastised.
In my own defense, I still have a 5- and a 7-year old. I have to say that a lot still.
My little ones in particular seem to pay no attention, skipping (Jackson literally) through life, regardless of the dangers that may be there.
It is aggravating and frustrating. I feel like they should know by now to look both ways...not play with scissors...stop fighting or someone will get hurt...not tip the chair. I also feel like they should know to flush, to wash their hands, to bus their dishes at the end of the meal...on and on.
Sometimes I correct them patiently. Sometimes not.
But you know what I have discovered?
God, as my Parent, has to do the same thing with me.
In some ways it is exactly the same as when I correct my kids. I sometimes do the equivalent eye roll at the King of the Universe, thinking I know better than He. I threaten and cajole, trying to get my sinful way, even though His "no" has been very clear. I pout. I whine. I act like a total stinker.
But...in some ways, this Parent-child relationship is markedly different.
God does not lose control with me. He has high expectations of me, to be sure, but He does not have humanness to get in the way of the discipline...or the praise. He treats me with love always, regardless of what I have done, but corrects me each and every time I need it (which is a lot, let me tell you). He gives me the wings to soar when I need to, and hold me in His lap when I fail, encouraging me to try again.
Just this morning, I had a conversation with a dear friend whose wife is ill. I told him about pouting to God and telling Him, the God of the Universe, that I could not handle raising these kids on my own, that I must have Keith here to help me.
Some days I have felt like a failure in the area of parenting (see above...) and some days I have felt like I am doing OK. Regardless, God is there to correct me, reprimand me, guide me...but above all support me on this journey. No ego on His part, no 'tude being sported, no forgetting what I am capable of...and no mistakes.
May I follow that model as I raise my own children!
But, just in case, I'm headed to the store for a roll of duct tape for Tuesday's game.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight.- Ephesians 1:2b-4
He was the goalie, the ball passed by on the outside of the goal (good for his team), and headed toward the road...where there was a car coming.
I couldn't help it. Before I knew it, out of my mouth comes, "Watch the car, Alex!"
He shot me a look that said, "Really, Mom?!"
The other parents around me tittered. They knew I had blown it...and that I would hear it from my teen.
They were right. He told me later that I had thrown off his game, and that he missed the next shot that came to him at goal because he was afraid what would be coming out of my mouth. He also told me he would be keeping duct tape on hand in case I lost control again...and that he would leave the field and come use it.
I believe him. He was steamed...and embarrassed.
I slunk away mentally, properly chastised.
In my own defense, I still have a 5- and a 7-year old. I have to say that a lot still.
My little ones in particular seem to pay no attention, skipping (Jackson literally) through life, regardless of the dangers that may be there.
It is aggravating and frustrating. I feel like they should know by now to look both ways...not play with scissors...stop fighting or someone will get hurt...not tip the chair. I also feel like they should know to flush, to wash their hands, to bus their dishes at the end of the meal...on and on.
Sometimes I correct them patiently. Sometimes not.
But you know what I have discovered?
God, as my Parent, has to do the same thing with me.
In some ways it is exactly the same as when I correct my kids. I sometimes do the equivalent eye roll at the King of the Universe, thinking I know better than He. I threaten and cajole, trying to get my sinful way, even though His "no" has been very clear. I pout. I whine. I act like a total stinker.
But...in some ways, this Parent-child relationship is markedly different.
God does not lose control with me. He has high expectations of me, to be sure, but He does not have humanness to get in the way of the discipline...or the praise. He treats me with love always, regardless of what I have done, but corrects me each and every time I need it (which is a lot, let me tell you). He gives me the wings to soar when I need to, and hold me in His lap when I fail, encouraging me to try again.
Just this morning, I had a conversation with a dear friend whose wife is ill. I told him about pouting to God and telling Him, the God of the Universe, that I could not handle raising these kids on my own, that I must have Keith here to help me.
Some days I have felt like a failure in the area of parenting (see above...) and some days I have felt like I am doing OK. Regardless, God is there to correct me, reprimand me, guide me...but above all support me on this journey. No ego on His part, no 'tude being sported, no forgetting what I am capable of...and no mistakes.
May I follow that model as I raise my own children!
But, just in case, I'm headed to the store for a roll of duct tape for Tuesday's game.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight.- Ephesians 1:2b-4
Friday, September 7, 2012
"Love you, too!"
I never realized how much I would miss saying, "I love you."
Sure, I still say it to my kids and my parents. (Well, I text it to my teenager - he seems to like it better in that form.)
But the person I said it to most was Keith.
We would say it at least once in every conversation.
We were actually quite silly about it, now that I look back on it.
Our conversations went like this: I love you. You. You. You. You. You.....You.....You............You...............You.....................You......................You.
Now I have to content myself with new ways to say "I love you"....and to receive them.
My sweet friend Tammy is big about saying it. Many conversations we have, she ends with "love you." I respond back, "love you, too."
And I do love her. She is a good friend and a good neighbor. She is a blessing in my life. I am happy that she tells me that she loves me, and I am happy to tell her.
It is a word we don't use enough in general language. Oh sure, we use it for TV shows, coffee, new clothes...but that is not where it is really appropriate (well, maybe for coffee...nah, not even coffee).
But do we use it to tell those in our lives who mean a lot to us how we feel? That we get that they are a gift from God and that we appreciate that gift?
So...I am freer now with the I-love-you's. I tell all my friends and family that I love them. (If I haven't gotten to you yet, know it's coming!) I end emails and texts with "love you" or "luv ya" or xoxoxoxo -- or all of it!
Time is short. I don't know how many opportunities I will still have to say "I love you." Things can change in an instant. So my view is say it often, say it with truth and meaning, make it count. You don't know how much someone needs to hear it.
I know I need to hear it.
And God knows that, too. He tells me a million times in a million ways that He loves me. My soul hears the words and glories in them.
- The sun is shining gloriously today. God saying, "I love you!"
- My children are healthy, happy, and well fed. God saying, "I love you!"
- We have had a good first week of school. God saying, "I love you!"
- My seven-year old is making connections in Bible learning that are amazing. God saying, "I love you!"
On and on, over and over, His love shines in all I do, all I see, all I can be.
I bask in His grace! Little ole sinful me is loved by the God of the universe! Mind-blowing, when you think about it.
And I love Him, too. May I always express to my Lord just how much He means to me -- in all that I am and all that I do!
But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God’s unfailing love for ever and ever. - Psalm 52:8
Sure, I still say it to my kids and my parents. (Well, I text it to my teenager - he seems to like it better in that form.)
But the person I said it to most was Keith.
We would say it at least once in every conversation.
We were actually quite silly about it, now that I look back on it.
Our conversations went like this: I love you. You. You. You. You. You.....You.....You............You...............You.....................You......................You.
Now I have to content myself with new ways to say "I love you"....and to receive them.
My sweet friend Tammy is big about saying it. Many conversations we have, she ends with "love you." I respond back, "love you, too."
And I do love her. She is a good friend and a good neighbor. She is a blessing in my life. I am happy that she tells me that she loves me, and I am happy to tell her.
It is a word we don't use enough in general language. Oh sure, we use it for TV shows, coffee, new clothes...but that is not where it is really appropriate (well, maybe for coffee...nah, not even coffee).
But do we use it to tell those in our lives who mean a lot to us how we feel? That we get that they are a gift from God and that we appreciate that gift?
So...I am freer now with the I-love-you's. I tell all my friends and family that I love them. (If I haven't gotten to you yet, know it's coming!) I end emails and texts with "love you" or "luv ya" or xoxoxoxo -- or all of it!
Time is short. I don't know how many opportunities I will still have to say "I love you." Things can change in an instant. So my view is say it often, say it with truth and meaning, make it count. You don't know how much someone needs to hear it.
I know I need to hear it.
And God knows that, too. He tells me a million times in a million ways that He loves me. My soul hears the words and glories in them.
- The sun is shining gloriously today. God saying, "I love you!"
- My children are healthy, happy, and well fed. God saying, "I love you!"
- We have had a good first week of school. God saying, "I love you!"
- My seven-year old is making connections in Bible learning that are amazing. God saying, "I love you!"
On and on, over and over, His love shines in all I do, all I see, all I can be.
I bask in His grace! Little ole sinful me is loved by the God of the universe! Mind-blowing, when you think about it.
And I love Him, too. May I always express to my Lord just how much He means to me -- in all that I am and all that I do!
But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God’s unfailing love for ever and ever. - Psalm 52:8
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Iceberg Emotions
The other day we went downtown to visit the National Archives. We saw the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. Very moving.
I cried, unashamedly.
My boys think I am silly, especially when I cry in public. They thought so that day. Even the friends we were with did not totally understand the depth of the emotions I was feeling.
Neither did I. It just hit me--the blood, sweat, and tears that went into this document coming to be. The hours of intense living that went into the whole idea of freedom. The greatness of a God who allowed a little upstart group of people to have Providence.
The guard told me that lots of people cry. He said, "It's your declaration. It's your country."
Amen!
I feel that way about my grief journey.
I feel that way about my life journey.
The American Indian proverb says, "Never criticize a man until you've walked a mile in his moccasins." (I looked it up to make sure I got the wording right.)
I still cry over Keith. Not every day. Not in predictable places and at predictable times. I may always cry at those unpredictable times.
It's my declaration. It's my grief.
It's not that I am ignoring the grieving. I have waded in with both arms open and have embraced it. It is just a long, involved process. Like learning to walk again...or run...after an amputation.
It's not that I am weak. I just have these tears God gave me, this pain God gave me. I am not wallowing in it. Embracing is not wallowing...at least it doesn't have to be. I am exploring, testing, growing, changing -- all because of this pain. And I thank God that He loves me enough to give me this chance to refine off some hard edges and become even more His child.
We all have stuff we are going through...we are all on a journey. Mine just happens to be a grief journey. But we are all being refined in the fire.
We just have to allow ourselves to be refined. And that sometimes is the hardest part of the journey of all.
Another old saying says, "God loves us just the way we are, but too much to let us stay that way."
Praise be to God!
Even for the Refiner's fire...especially for it!
For you, O God, tested us; You refined us like silver. You brought us into prison and laid burdens on our backs. You let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but You brought us to a place of abundance. - Psalm 66:10-12
I cried, unashamedly.
My boys think I am silly, especially when I cry in public. They thought so that day. Even the friends we were with did not totally understand the depth of the emotions I was feeling.
Neither did I. It just hit me--the blood, sweat, and tears that went into this document coming to be. The hours of intense living that went into the whole idea of freedom. The greatness of a God who allowed a little upstart group of people to have Providence.
The guard told me that lots of people cry. He said, "It's your declaration. It's your country."
Amen!
I feel that way about my grief journey.
I feel that way about my life journey.
The American Indian proverb says, "Never criticize a man until you've walked a mile in his moccasins." (I looked it up to make sure I got the wording right.)
I still cry over Keith. Not every day. Not in predictable places and at predictable times. I may always cry at those unpredictable times.
It's my declaration. It's my grief.
It's not that I am ignoring the grieving. I have waded in with both arms open and have embraced it. It is just a long, involved process. Like learning to walk again...or run...after an amputation.
It's not that I am weak. I just have these tears God gave me, this pain God gave me. I am not wallowing in it. Embracing is not wallowing...at least it doesn't have to be. I am exploring, testing, growing, changing -- all because of this pain. And I thank God that He loves me enough to give me this chance to refine off some hard edges and become even more His child.
We all have stuff we are going through...we are all on a journey. Mine just happens to be a grief journey. But we are all being refined in the fire.
We just have to allow ourselves to be refined. And that sometimes is the hardest part of the journey of all.
Another old saying says, "God loves us just the way we are, but too much to let us stay that way."
Praise be to God!
Even for the Refiner's fire...especially for it!
For you, O God, tested us; You refined us like silver. You brought us into prison and laid burdens on our backs. You let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but You brought us to a place of abundance. - Psalm 66:10-12
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