I distinctly remember the day I came home from high school and determined that I was going to West Point. I knew it would be an arduous and difficult path, requiring a great deal of hard work. The first step, aside from all the paperwork, academic requirements, exams and tests, was simple. Get into better shape. Sharpen my physical abilities. Increase my stamina. The best way to begin? Run.
So, I did. Every day.
I was never a natural runner. It was always difficult. And if I improved, I adjusted my goal. Run farther. Run faster. Run longer. It was never easy. Anyone who runs or has run should understand. The better you become, the more you push yourself. A race is as much about perseverance as it is about ability. It begins with a burst of energy, finding your stride, settling into a pace. But the middle can get rough. The middle is about finding the desire to continue putting one foot in front of the other. Staying on course. Persevering all the way until the end.
Maybe it's natural for some, but every run was work for me. The race to which Paul refers doesn't come naturally for me either. I woke this morning with no desire to make a "list," to offer thanks today. I just didn't want to do it. In the beginning this was easy. The first week the thanks-offerings flooded from my mouth and poured from my nimble and ready fingers. The middle, the middle is getting hard. It's not yet natural. Will it ever be? Maybe not. What then? Give up? The goal is to pursue thankfulness...so that God may be glorified and that I may become more Christ-like. Giving up is not an option.
And so I am reminded of Paul's words in Hebrews 12:1-3, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning it's shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."
When I consider what Jesus has done for me, how can I grow weary and lost heart? How can I not offer thanks?
401) the circus
402) the blessing of loving, adult siblings
403) the sound of my daughter singing Winnie the Pooh
404) the blessing of friends nearby for play-dates
405) the functional van heater on a cold, frosty day
406) the availability of quality dental care
407) the accessibility of information
408) the happy exchange of smiles
409) the salvaged tree house
410) the book, once lost, now found
411) the bubbly baby babbles
412) the baby bouncing
413) the sweet baby hiccups
414) the provision of adequate clothing
415) the flock of birds flying in graceful unison through the sky
416) the warm, red-plaid flannel sheets
417) the upside-down sunglasses on my daughter's smiling face
418) the tiny tufts of pigtails on her head
419) the organizational skills of my son
420) the invention of Play-Doh
421) the gift my husband has for explaining scientific phenomena
422) the hugs from my oldest son, who is almost up to my chin
423) the spices that season our food
424) the laughter from my children as they chase one another around the house
425) the voice of my husband, singing hymns to our children
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Day 16-One Nation Under God
In light of this year's upcoming election, politics is often at the forefront of news and discussions. It's common for these discussions over the state of our country to become heated. Everyone has an opinion regarding the best course and which candidate is best equipped to lead us on that path. Everyone is concerned about the future, fiscal and moral accountability, the economy, social responsibility versus limited government. There is an extensive and often controversial list.
I studied politics in college, even minored in the subject. Over the years I prided myself on being well informed, introducing my husband to the importance of political awareness and involvement. I also tended to worry about it frequently. Then I reached a point where I realized my worry was an affront to God, who says in Hebrews 13: 1, "for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God."
Paul made that statement during a time in which the Jews lived under the authority of Rome. They were governed by non-Christians and probably also persecuted for their beliefs. My Bible's commentary on this verse says "even the possibility of a persecuting state did not shake Paul's conviction that civil government is ordained by God."
How then should I respond to my government, once a nation that claimed to be under God and yet which now denies and defies Him, implicitly and explicitly, in turn?
Submit to the authority, then participate in every manner provided by the governing Constitution to make my views and preferences known. But, do not worry. Be diligent...and then trust. In Matthews 6 Jesus says, "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or stow away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?...Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself."
God is not unaware of our current plight. He is not surprised by anything that we face. Therefore, should I not trust in His ability to provide exactly what is needed, according to His will, in all situations?
Where freedoms and rights and livelihoods are at stake, passionate discourse is important. I have no less passion or concern for these issues than I once did, but I choose not to be angry or to allow anxiety to creep into my heart regarding the future. Regardless of the election results and the implications it may have, good or bad, the future is in the Lord's hands, and I am thankful for it! The fact that our nation may no longer acknowledge God's authority does not in any way diminish the fact that He IS still on the throne, and every power, ruler and authority exists under His sovereignty.
376) the smell of my husband's cologne lingering in the house
377) the smiling little girl playing with her baby doll
378) the raspberry kisses on my baby's belly
379) the discernment to select a reliable, new dentist
380) the contented and cooperative play of my children
381) the scent of my Home Sweet Home Yankee candle
382) the contrast of cool cream cheese on a warm, toasted bagel
383) the freedom to participate in the political process
384) the tart, red cranberry
385) the daily prayers of faithful around the world, offered on behalf of our leaders
386) the boxes of shoes stored away for future use
387) the freedom to openly worship and attend church
388) the freedom to educate my children as I choose
389) the existence of excellent Christian schools
390) the ability to be a stay-at-home Mom
391) the spectacular rock wall on the side of the mountain
392) the sound of my daughter singing nursery rhymes
393) the excellent writings of J.R.R. Tolkein
394) the blessing of abundant leftovers
395) the crunchy almond
396) the tender, buttery cashew nut
397) the children eating pickles on forks
398) the sound of my children singing the alphabet
399) the piggy bank payout, teaching our children fiscal responsibility
400) the review of our upcoming budget
I studied politics in college, even minored in the subject. Over the years I prided myself on being well informed, introducing my husband to the importance of political awareness and involvement. I also tended to worry about it frequently. Then I reached a point where I realized my worry was an affront to God, who says in Hebrews 13: 1, "for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God."
Paul made that statement during a time in which the Jews lived under the authority of Rome. They were governed by non-Christians and probably also persecuted for their beliefs. My Bible's commentary on this verse says "even the possibility of a persecuting state did not shake Paul's conviction that civil government is ordained by God."
How then should I respond to my government, once a nation that claimed to be under God and yet which now denies and defies Him, implicitly and explicitly, in turn?
Submit to the authority, then participate in every manner provided by the governing Constitution to make my views and preferences known. But, do not worry. Be diligent...and then trust. In Matthews 6 Jesus says, "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or stow away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?...Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself."
God is not unaware of our current plight. He is not surprised by anything that we face. Therefore, should I not trust in His ability to provide exactly what is needed, according to His will, in all situations?
Where freedoms and rights and livelihoods are at stake, passionate discourse is important. I have no less passion or concern for these issues than I once did, but I choose not to be angry or to allow anxiety to creep into my heart regarding the future. Regardless of the election results and the implications it may have, good or bad, the future is in the Lord's hands, and I am thankful for it! The fact that our nation may no longer acknowledge God's authority does not in any way diminish the fact that He IS still on the throne, and every power, ruler and authority exists under His sovereignty.
376) the smell of my husband's cologne lingering in the house
377) the smiling little girl playing with her baby doll
378) the raspberry kisses on my baby's belly
379) the discernment to select a reliable, new dentist
380) the contented and cooperative play of my children
381) the scent of my Home Sweet Home Yankee candle
382) the contrast of cool cream cheese on a warm, toasted bagel
383) the freedom to participate in the political process
384) the tart, red cranberry
385) the daily prayers of faithful around the world, offered on behalf of our leaders
386) the boxes of shoes stored away for future use
387) the freedom to openly worship and attend church
388) the freedom to educate my children as I choose
389) the existence of excellent Christian schools
390) the ability to be a stay-at-home Mom
391) the spectacular rock wall on the side of the mountain
392) the sound of my daughter singing nursery rhymes
393) the excellent writings of J.R.R. Tolkein
394) the blessing of abundant leftovers
395) the crunchy almond
396) the tender, buttery cashew nut
397) the children eating pickles on forks
398) the sound of my children singing the alphabet
399) the piggy bank payout, teaching our children fiscal responsibility
400) the review of our upcoming budget
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Day 15-Psalm 8
Sometimes during the day I feel stalled, wanting to give thanks but struggling for a starting point. During these moments I go to a window and let my eyes wander over world outside.
Romans 1:20 says, "For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities-his eternal power and divine nature-have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse." In God's handiwork I not only see intricate and admirable beauty but also reflections of His magnificence. I consider Psalm 8...
O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory above the heavens.
From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise
because of your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger.
When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?
You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.
You made him ruler over the works of your hands;
you put everything under his feet:
all flocks and herds, and the beasts of the field,
the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea,
all that swim in the paths of the seas.
O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
If the Lord is sovereign over ALL this marvelous creation, for which He deserves the highest praise and thanks, and yet, still cares for me, personally and intimately, such that Psalm 139 says...
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
...then I am not only blessed with myriad visible reminders of His incomparable majesty whenever I look around me, but I also have great confidence in his specific and purposeful care for me.
I admire His creation, awestruck. His goodness is evident everywhere. How could I not see it and give thanks?
351) the large, delicate snowflakes
352) the slow, soft snow-falling, almost lingering in the air
353) the elegant tree branches, frosted white
354) the kissable nose of daughter
355) the little feet standing on mine while she embraces my legs
356) the tree-bark crevices holding pockets of snow
357) the gradual spread of pristine white over grassy green
358) the Veggie-tales stories
359) the glistening water droplets suspended on extended tree limbs
360) the dark green ivy climbing over an aging tree stump
361) the sweet crunch of banana chips
362) the tangy and textured dried apricot
363) the homey warmth of my brown curtains
364) the happiness of wrapping my almost-too-big-to-pick-up three year old in a hug
365) the rest-time on the couch, wrapped in a soft, warm blanket, head on my husband's lap
366) the creamy thyme-cheese sauce poured over angel hair pasta and sauteed vegetables
367) the sound of my sons practicing their spelling words
368) the pink flower in my daughter's hair
369) the dishes being cleaned by my husband
370) the rosy flush of my baby's cheeks after snuggling close
371) the healthy appetite of my children
372) the bubbles floating about the kitchen, delighting my daughters
373) the joyful moment of dancing with my son
374) the rocking with my baby before bed
375) the reading of the Word to the children
Romans 1:20 says, "For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities-his eternal power and divine nature-have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse." In God's handiwork I not only see intricate and admirable beauty but also reflections of His magnificence. I consider Psalm 8...
O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory above the heavens.
From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise
because of your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger.
When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?
You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.
You made him ruler over the works of your hands;
you put everything under his feet:
all flocks and herds, and the beasts of the field,
the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea,
all that swim in the paths of the seas.
O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
If the Lord is sovereign over ALL this marvelous creation, for which He deserves the highest praise and thanks, and yet, still cares for me, personally and intimately, such that Psalm 139 says...
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
...then I am not only blessed with myriad visible reminders of His incomparable majesty whenever I look around me, but I also have great confidence in his specific and purposeful care for me.
I admire His creation, awestruck. His goodness is evident everywhere. How could I not see it and give thanks?
351) the large, delicate snowflakes
352) the slow, soft snow-falling, almost lingering in the air
353) the elegant tree branches, frosted white
354) the kissable nose of daughter
355) the little feet standing on mine while she embraces my legs
356) the tree-bark crevices holding pockets of snow
357) the gradual spread of pristine white over grassy green
358) the Veggie-tales stories
359) the glistening water droplets suspended on extended tree limbs
360) the dark green ivy climbing over an aging tree stump
361) the sweet crunch of banana chips
362) the tangy and textured dried apricot
363) the homey warmth of my brown curtains
364) the happiness of wrapping my almost-too-big-to-pick-up three year old in a hug
365) the rest-time on the couch, wrapped in a soft, warm blanket, head on my husband's lap
366) the creamy thyme-cheese sauce poured over angel hair pasta and sauteed vegetables
367) the sound of my sons practicing their spelling words
368) the pink flower in my daughter's hair
369) the dishes being cleaned by my husband
370) the rosy flush of my baby's cheeks after snuggling close
371) the healthy appetite of my children
372) the bubbles floating about the kitchen, delighting my daughters
373) the joyful moment of dancing with my son
374) the rocking with my baby before bed
375) the reading of the Word to the children
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Day 14-Perspective
I'm finding that perspective can make all the difference. And things that typically irritate me can hold blessings in disguise. The truth of the old adage "every cloud has a silver lining" is poignant and real.
I once saw blankets and sheets piled over my table in tent-like fashion as additions to the list of things I'd be cleaning up that day. An annoyance and a chore. Now I find I am capable of looking past that to see the happiness on my children's faces as they exercise their creativity and imaginations. I once stood outside thinking only of the negatives, the chill, the difficulty of constantly tracking them with my eyes. Counting one, two, three, four, five. Knowing where they are at all times, safe and secure. Now I am able to see their cold cheeks, pink with exertion and glee. I mark their busy trails all over our yard and thank the Lord for our .625 acres, an expanse we would have been hard pressed to find in our former city.
People ask the question, "is the glass half full or half empty?" to determine your outlook on life...are you an optimist or a pessimist? I like the joke-alternative, the engineer's response, you just need a different glass! How true! God's blessings are everywhere and the glass is ALWAYS full...if you have the right glass.
It's all a matter of perspective, because it's not about being optimistic or pessimistic by nature. It's about being self-centered by nature versus seeking to be Christ-centered through the Spirit. Cultivating a grateful heart means framing every circumstance with the question, "How can I thank God for this?" And even if it's not thanks for the immediate now, we can always offer thanks in the now with hope for the future, for "we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28)
326) the much-needed night of better rest
327) the memory foam pillow that supports my head and neck
328) the child's hunt for, and avoidance of, stinkbugs
329) the fine, dark granules of cocoa mix
330) the little arms that give sweet, baby hugs
331) the colors of the spectrum displayed in my children's drawings
332) the steam wafting into my face as I sip from my mug
333) the gray bear with dark magenta bow, first Valentine's gift from my husband, still sitting on our bed
334) the all-too-brief moment when my usually-busy 3 year old sprawled contentedly across my lap
335) the pointy, impish ears of my son, inherited from his Daddy
336) the windowpane shadows in blocks of bright sunlight
337) the joy of singing "This is the Day!" in the morning
338) the sight of my son standing in front of the glowing window making shadows on the floor
339) the way my sleepy baby rubs his eyes with his little fists as he wakes up
340) the reading of "Goodnight Moon"
341) the persistence of my daughter in searching the sky for the moon every time we go outdoors
342) the cardboard and construction paper rocket, thrown into the air to simulate flight
343) the children's excitement when Daddy gets home
344) the children's continued safety and protection from harmful accidents
345) the neck rub that eased some of the ache and tension-pain
346) the water beading on the crisp red-purple grapes
347) the sweet, spicy scent of cinnamon
348) the decadent, authentic Ukrainian chocolate
349) the blessing of praying with fellow believers
350) the handmade metal diffuser that circulates heat throughout the house
I once saw blankets and sheets piled over my table in tent-like fashion as additions to the list of things I'd be cleaning up that day. An annoyance and a chore. Now I find I am capable of looking past that to see the happiness on my children's faces as they exercise their creativity and imaginations. I once stood outside thinking only of the negatives, the chill, the difficulty of constantly tracking them with my eyes. Counting one, two, three, four, five. Knowing where they are at all times, safe and secure. Now I am able to see their cold cheeks, pink with exertion and glee. I mark their busy trails all over our yard and thank the Lord for our .625 acres, an expanse we would have been hard pressed to find in our former city.
People ask the question, "is the glass half full or half empty?" to determine your outlook on life...are you an optimist or a pessimist? I like the joke-alternative, the engineer's response, you just need a different glass! How true! God's blessings are everywhere and the glass is ALWAYS full...if you have the right glass.
It's all a matter of perspective, because it's not about being optimistic or pessimistic by nature. It's about being self-centered by nature versus seeking to be Christ-centered through the Spirit. Cultivating a grateful heart means framing every circumstance with the question, "How can I thank God for this?" And even if it's not thanks for the immediate now, we can always offer thanks in the now with hope for the future, for "we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28)
326) the much-needed night of better rest
327) the memory foam pillow that supports my head and neck
328) the child's hunt for, and avoidance of, stinkbugs
329) the fine, dark granules of cocoa mix
330) the little arms that give sweet, baby hugs
331) the colors of the spectrum displayed in my children's drawings
332) the steam wafting into my face as I sip from my mug
333) the gray bear with dark magenta bow, first Valentine's gift from my husband, still sitting on our bed
334) the all-too-brief moment when my usually-busy 3 year old sprawled contentedly across my lap
335) the pointy, impish ears of my son, inherited from his Daddy
336) the windowpane shadows in blocks of bright sunlight
337) the joy of singing "This is the Day!" in the morning
338) the sight of my son standing in front of the glowing window making shadows on the floor
339) the way my sleepy baby rubs his eyes with his little fists as he wakes up
340) the reading of "Goodnight Moon"
341) the persistence of my daughter in searching the sky for the moon every time we go outdoors
342) the cardboard and construction paper rocket, thrown into the air to simulate flight
343) the children's excitement when Daddy gets home
344) the children's continued safety and protection from harmful accidents
345) the neck rub that eased some of the ache and tension-pain
346) the water beading on the crisp red-purple grapes
347) the sweet, spicy scent of cinnamon
348) the decadent, authentic Ukrainian chocolate
349) the blessing of praying with fellow believers
350) the handmade metal diffuser that circulates heat throughout the house
Friday, January 27, 2012
Day 13-Slipping
My daughter sits on the couch screaming through a tantrum, and my head pounds. I cannot think straight, and I look around struggling. God, please help me be thankful today! But, I'm not seeing it. I didn't see it all weekend.
We woke up Saturday morning in my parent's house and, from the early rising-hour, we were on the go. It was raining and gray, and we were out the door for a family breakfast. I tried to maintain the fledgling habit of thanks-giving, but it so easily slipped away with the morning. It was a good day, a good weekend, with LOTS of things to be thankful for. I just wasn't intentional about noting any of it.
I can see why people say that forming a new habit takes consistency. Any break in that routine can so easily throw you off, and all your resolve slips away. I am frustrated with myself. Should it be so easy to overlook God's goodness? Can I still call this "Day 13" when, technically, it isn't? It is the thirteenth day of actual list-making but not the thirteenth consecutive day since I started. Oh, that grates on me.
I even find myself a little irritated with the dog, again, as I spy her curled up in one of the kid's bean bag chairs. My head is still pounding, and my daughter is still fussing, but there's no real reason for the irritation. I am mindful of Paul's words in Romans 7:18, "I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out."
However, he continues in chapter 8 verse 26, "In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." What comfort! God, help me to persevere today. Help me to slowly press on. Let the peace and contentment that come through thankfulness not slip away.
I close my eyes and think, hard. One at a time. One methodical offering of thanks at a time, and praying the Lord will bless it...
301) the orange haze in the black night sky as lights play games in the atmosphere
302) the safe return home
303) the crunch of frosty grass under my feet
304) the compassionate help of another mother
305) the sniffling of a reluctantly calming child
306) the open-mouthed wonder of a child at an unexpected pleasure
307) the fog hovering about the trees
308) the joy of singing loudly
309) the bright green roof on the old barn shed
310) the news of a possible adoption that would be a blessing to many
309) the little brow creased in thought
310) the tree shadows spreading across the lawn
311) the peaceful rest of a weary child
312) the fan blowing the sting of onion from my nose and eyes
313) the aroma of simmering savory spices
314) the box of recipes thoughtfully compiled by my sister
315) the seeds that will produce a bountiful garden
316) the softening pinkish hue of fluffy cloud
317) the extra humidifier, given by a friend
318) the medicine that is both gentle enough and strong enough for my baby
319) the coat that keeps me warm on cold, wintry days
320) the peppermint in my daughter's handmade five-senses book
321) the willingness of a brother to help his little sister
322) the sight of my husband and baby making faces at each other
323) the piggyback ride for my son
324) the joy of singing "You Are My Sunshine" to my little ones
325) the Date Night planned by my husband
We woke up Saturday morning in my parent's house and, from the early rising-hour, we were on the go. It was raining and gray, and we were out the door for a family breakfast. I tried to maintain the fledgling habit of thanks-giving, but it so easily slipped away with the morning. It was a good day, a good weekend, with LOTS of things to be thankful for. I just wasn't intentional about noting any of it.
I can see why people say that forming a new habit takes consistency. Any break in that routine can so easily throw you off, and all your resolve slips away. I am frustrated with myself. Should it be so easy to overlook God's goodness? Can I still call this "Day 13" when, technically, it isn't? It is the thirteenth day of actual list-making but not the thirteenth consecutive day since I started. Oh, that grates on me.
I even find myself a little irritated with the dog, again, as I spy her curled up in one of the kid's bean bag chairs. My head is still pounding, and my daughter is still fussing, but there's no real reason for the irritation. I am mindful of Paul's words in Romans 7:18, "I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out."
However, he continues in chapter 8 verse 26, "In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." What comfort! God, help me to persevere today. Help me to slowly press on. Let the peace and contentment that come through thankfulness not slip away.
I close my eyes and think, hard. One at a time. One methodical offering of thanks at a time, and praying the Lord will bless it...
301) the orange haze in the black night sky as lights play games in the atmosphere
302) the safe return home
303) the crunch of frosty grass under my feet
304) the compassionate help of another mother
305) the sniffling of a reluctantly calming child
306) the open-mouthed wonder of a child at an unexpected pleasure
307) the fog hovering about the trees
308) the joy of singing loudly
309) the bright green roof on the old barn shed
310) the news of a possible adoption that would be a blessing to many
309) the little brow creased in thought
310) the tree shadows spreading across the lawn
311) the peaceful rest of a weary child
312) the fan blowing the sting of onion from my nose and eyes
313) the aroma of simmering savory spices
314) the box of recipes thoughtfully compiled by my sister
315) the seeds that will produce a bountiful garden
316) the softening pinkish hue of fluffy cloud
317) the extra humidifier, given by a friend
318) the medicine that is both gentle enough and strong enough for my baby
319) the coat that keeps me warm on cold, wintry days
320) the peppermint in my daughter's handmade five-senses book
321) the willingness of a brother to help his little sister
322) the sight of my husband and baby making faces at each other
323) the piggyback ride for my son
324) the joy of singing "You Are My Sunshine" to my little ones
325) the Date Night planned by my husband
Day 12-Book Snob
I do not have the luxury of being particular about many things. But, I am particular about books. They sit on my bookshelf just so, separated into categories obvious only to me. When I read one, I am careful not to bend the spine or the pages too much. I like to maintain the integrity of the book itself as long as possible. I handle them carefully, because I am re-reader. I will read those I love over and over, and the better preserved through each reading, the longer a book is likely to last. This is important to me, because I have no intention of going over to the electronic dark side. I know it appeals to some, but I love holding a book in my hands. Turning the pages one by one Visually marking my progress through the story. Tangibly anticipating the climax and resolution!
I am also particular about the type of book I read. Some books, for one reason or another, just do not appeal to me. I cannot always put my finger on the why. Sometimes, just an impression or topic. I prefer books I consider more artistic in literary form. Stylistically unique or gripping. An interesting point of view. Old classics or destined to be. That does not mean I am unable to enjoy or appreciate other types, just that I don't gravitate to them. For this reason, I think my family secretly, or not-so-secretly, considers me a "book snob."
I don't mean to be snobbish about my literary preferences but, since I have limited time to read, I usually have to make my choices carefully. There isn't much extra reading time to expand my horizons. However, on occasion, I have been prodded into reading a book that I originally avoided and been pleasantly surprised by how much I actually enjoyed it!
For a long time I refused to jump on the Harry Potter-bandwagon. I "snobbishly" felt anything that popular probably wasn't the type of novel I would enjoy. However, when I finally picked it up, I was surprised to discover it had so much more depth and wit and creativity than I expected! I have reread them several times, including reading them aloud to my husband and children. I have been a devoted fan since. (I also became a fan of the Twilight series in the same way. And, in the same way, many are either vehemently against them or obsessively for them! I won't digress into a full-length blog on why I enjoy them so much but, suffice it to say, I enjoy that they draw on classic themes and creatively weave those themes through-out a vividly-imagined and compelling fantasy.)
The point is, I will sheepishly admit that I am often a "book snob," but I am usually thankful for the times when I have been pushed out of my comfort zone, prompted to try new things or pressed on with a book I was unsure about. For this reason, I am thankful to be part of a Book Club. Selection rotates through the members, so I am always exposed to the interests and preferences of others. As someone who easily becomes entrenched in my own little world, this is a good thing. If not for this, I would not have picked up "One Thousand Gifts." It wasn't a book I would have chosen for myself...but I am thankful someone else chose it for me.
I'm thankful for good books and thankful that God doesn't leave me entrenched in my own little world either; He continually pursues me every day, because I am His, and He knows me better than I know myself.
276) the spot on my husband's chest where I fit perfectly
277) the tiny cleft in my baby's chin
278) the delicate crystals frosting over glass
279) the ability to easily visit family
280) the anticipation of a surprise
281) the complimentary flavors of peppermint and chocolate
282) the transformation of toddler-speak into sentences
283) the pleasure of a good book
284) the pirate ship on the playground
285) the beautiful and stately church spires rising above the tree-line
286) the naturally-sweet, juicy peach
287) the invention of peanut butter
288) the rolling hills of the southern Virginia valley
289) the lack of traffic en route to Charlotte
290) the sun setting into the waters of Lake Norman
291) the waiting meal for our famished family
292) the children's enthusiastic searching of the night sky for incoming and departing airplanes
293) the welcoming city lights
294) the glass of sweet, strawberry wine
295) the full, happy baby playing with his toes for Grandma
296) the baby, held high in Papa's arms, laughing happily
297) the safe travels
298) the inspiring songs of Christian musicians
299) the warm scent of the burning Balsam and Cedar Yankee Candle
300) the corrective lenses that adjust my vision and prevent headaches
I am also particular about the type of book I read. Some books, for one reason or another, just do not appeal to me. I cannot always put my finger on the why. Sometimes, just an impression or topic. I prefer books I consider more artistic in literary form. Stylistically unique or gripping. An interesting point of view. Old classics or destined to be. That does not mean I am unable to enjoy or appreciate other types, just that I don't gravitate to them. For this reason, I think my family secretly, or not-so-secretly, considers me a "book snob."
I don't mean to be snobbish about my literary preferences but, since I have limited time to read, I usually have to make my choices carefully. There isn't much extra reading time to expand my horizons. However, on occasion, I have been prodded into reading a book that I originally avoided and been pleasantly surprised by how much I actually enjoyed it!
For a long time I refused to jump on the Harry Potter-bandwagon. I "snobbishly" felt anything that popular probably wasn't the type of novel I would enjoy. However, when I finally picked it up, I was surprised to discover it had so much more depth and wit and creativity than I expected! I have reread them several times, including reading them aloud to my husband and children. I have been a devoted fan since. (I also became a fan of the Twilight series in the same way. And, in the same way, many are either vehemently against them or obsessively for them! I won't digress into a full-length blog on why I enjoy them so much but, suffice it to say, I enjoy that they draw on classic themes and creatively weave those themes through-out a vividly-imagined and compelling fantasy.)
The point is, I will sheepishly admit that I am often a "book snob," but I am usually thankful for the times when I have been pushed out of my comfort zone, prompted to try new things or pressed on with a book I was unsure about. For this reason, I am thankful to be part of a Book Club. Selection rotates through the members, so I am always exposed to the interests and preferences of others. As someone who easily becomes entrenched in my own little world, this is a good thing. If not for this, I would not have picked up "One Thousand Gifts." It wasn't a book I would have chosen for myself...but I am thankful someone else chose it for me.
I'm thankful for good books and thankful that God doesn't leave me entrenched in my own little world either; He continually pursues me every day, because I am His, and He knows me better than I know myself.
276) the spot on my husband's chest where I fit perfectly
277) the tiny cleft in my baby's chin
278) the delicate crystals frosting over glass
279) the ability to easily visit family
280) the anticipation of a surprise
281) the complimentary flavors of peppermint and chocolate
282) the transformation of toddler-speak into sentences
283) the pleasure of a good book
284) the pirate ship on the playground
285) the beautiful and stately church spires rising above the tree-line
286) the naturally-sweet, juicy peach
287) the invention of peanut butter
288) the rolling hills of the southern Virginia valley
289) the lack of traffic en route to Charlotte
290) the sun setting into the waters of Lake Norman
291) the waiting meal for our famished family
292) the children's enthusiastic searching of the night sky for incoming and departing airplanes
293) the welcoming city lights
294) the glass of sweet, strawberry wine
295) the full, happy baby playing with his toes for Grandma
296) the baby, held high in Papa's arms, laughing happily
297) the safe travels
298) the inspiring songs of Christian musicians
299) the warm scent of the burning Balsam and Cedar Yankee Candle
300) the corrective lenses that adjust my vision and prevent headaches
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Day 11-A Firm Foundation (part two)
Yesterday I asked, when inevitable failure occurs...what happens then?
I've been married ten years. I would not claim to be an expert. The challenges of two sinful people coming together and living graciously and harmoniously are many. But, I do know what happened when my heart was not full of thankfulness. Instead, filled with ingratitude. I traveled far down the path of resentment. I lived there for a few years. It was a lonely, sad place. All the books on doing better, trying harder, showing love more unselfishly were lost on me. I did not have a road map back, because my compass was faulty. My heart was caught up in what I deserved and did not get, rather than what I had and God's purpose for me in and through it.
Mercifully, God revealed two truths to me through the study of two different books. Books I wish I had read long before. Two books dealing with the heart of the problem, "When Sinners Day I Do" and "2Becoming1." I do not remember every chapter or concept, but from each book I took away one primary and, for me, revolutionary truth.
From the former, I was reminded that I am a sinner too. That would seem obvious. But, in the midst of frustration and conflict and long, tiring days, it's often not. Consider how often Jesus spoke about dealing with our own sin, the log in our own eye, rather than judging those around us for the specks in theirs. The book reminded me that I never come with clean hands. My motivations and thoughts, actions and words are suspect. I will bring some fault to every situation, and I need to be willing to consider that and examine myself, first. Being honest about my own failings not only makes me more humble, where I once was proud, but it makes me more gracious, where I once found only fault.
From the latter, I was reminded that God is perfect. Again, didn't I know this? If God is perfect and does not make mistakes, He is able, and does, join together two imperfect, sinful people who, according to HIS purposes, are perfect for one another. This simple truth delved deep. God does not make mistakes. In Matthews 19 Jesus says, "'So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate.' 'Why then,' they asked, 'did Moses command that a man give his wife a certificate of divorce and send her away?' Jesus replied, 'Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the beginning.'" Because your hearts were hard. But that is not what God intended.
Because of the fall, marriage is not ever easy. It gets hard, still. But my dependence is not on my husband, it is on the Lord. I know that for those He joins together, He purposes good through it. Proverbs 27:17 says, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." Marriage is about grace. Sacrificial love. Becoming more Christ-like. The perfection of my character. It is not about what my husband does or does not do for me. It is about what God is doing in me. Because God is sovereign, I can trust that HE brought my husband into my life, flaws and all, for a purpose beyond my understanding...but also for good beyond my imagining. I can be thankful for him, as is, the gift God knows I really need.
The ring I placed on his finger ten years ago was a dull, brushed gold. All the wear of the years, the nicks, the scratches, the hardness of life against soft metal, should have taken it's toll. I look at it now. It shines brightly. Polished. More beautiful than the day it was made and given. The only recognizable resemblance is the etched cross on it's surface. Christ, the firm foundation. Christ, grace for me a sinner. Grace to perfect that which is flawed. Grace which inspires a heart of thankfulness. The way back.
251) the sight of my son sweetly holding and rocking his little sister
252) the older son patiently reading a child's book to her
253) the fun of dressing up and pretending, today, robots and pirates
254) the opposing swirls of hair on the back of my baby's head
255) the cowlick that rises into Mohawk tuft
256) the sun breaking out from behind the rain clouds to illumine the day
257) the chirping birdsong
258) the hopping birds searching for their morning meal among the grasses
259) the swift bird-flight soaring and arcing through the trees
260) the still-wet pavement glistening under the sunshine
262) the inspiring video of a hard-run race, falling does not prevent a strong finish
263) the much-needed laugh at my son's antics with Lego buildings
264) the kisses that bring comfort to salty, tear-stained cheeks
265) the timely reading of "Prayers for a Small Child"
266) the snapping turtle cloud
267) the word of God, sharper than two-edged sword, useful for teaching, correcting, rebuking, encouraging, revealing truth
268) the sprawling, open fields
269) the grazing cows
270) the red-leaf fringed bushes about our front porch
271) the sound of my daughter singing "Amazing Grace"
272) the evening-time when the cratered, half moon and low, glowing sun share the sky
273) the many climbing trees edging our property
274) the gnarled, old tree outside our door, still standing
275) the shoes, thoughtfully cleaned by my husband
I've been married ten years. I would not claim to be an expert. The challenges of two sinful people coming together and living graciously and harmoniously are many. But, I do know what happened when my heart was not full of thankfulness. Instead, filled with ingratitude. I traveled far down the path of resentment. I lived there for a few years. It was a lonely, sad place. All the books on doing better, trying harder, showing love more unselfishly were lost on me. I did not have a road map back, because my compass was faulty. My heart was caught up in what I deserved and did not get, rather than what I had and God's purpose for me in and through it.
Mercifully, God revealed two truths to me through the study of two different books. Books I wish I had read long before. Two books dealing with the heart of the problem, "When Sinners Day I Do" and "2Becoming1." I do not remember every chapter or concept, but from each book I took away one primary and, for me, revolutionary truth.
From the former, I was reminded that I am a sinner too. That would seem obvious. But, in the midst of frustration and conflict and long, tiring days, it's often not. Consider how often Jesus spoke about dealing with our own sin, the log in our own eye, rather than judging those around us for the specks in theirs. The book reminded me that I never come with clean hands. My motivations and thoughts, actions and words are suspect. I will bring some fault to every situation, and I need to be willing to consider that and examine myself, first. Being honest about my own failings not only makes me more humble, where I once was proud, but it makes me more gracious, where I once found only fault.
From the latter, I was reminded that God is perfect. Again, didn't I know this? If God is perfect and does not make mistakes, He is able, and does, join together two imperfect, sinful people who, according to HIS purposes, are perfect for one another. This simple truth delved deep. God does not make mistakes. In Matthews 19 Jesus says, "'So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate.' 'Why then,' they asked, 'did Moses command that a man give his wife a certificate of divorce and send her away?' Jesus replied, 'Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the beginning.'" Because your hearts were hard. But that is not what God intended.
Because of the fall, marriage is not ever easy. It gets hard, still. But my dependence is not on my husband, it is on the Lord. I know that for those He joins together, He purposes good through it. Proverbs 27:17 says, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." Marriage is about grace. Sacrificial love. Becoming more Christ-like. The perfection of my character. It is not about what my husband does or does not do for me. It is about what God is doing in me. Because God is sovereign, I can trust that HE brought my husband into my life, flaws and all, for a purpose beyond my understanding...but also for good beyond my imagining. I can be thankful for him, as is, the gift God knows I really need.
The ring I placed on his finger ten years ago was a dull, brushed gold. All the wear of the years, the nicks, the scratches, the hardness of life against soft metal, should have taken it's toll. I look at it now. It shines brightly. Polished. More beautiful than the day it was made and given. The only recognizable resemblance is the etched cross on it's surface. Christ, the firm foundation. Christ, grace for me a sinner. Grace to perfect that which is flawed. Grace which inspires a heart of thankfulness. The way back.
251) the sight of my son sweetly holding and rocking his little sister
252) the older son patiently reading a child's book to her
253) the fun of dressing up and pretending, today, robots and pirates
254) the opposing swirls of hair on the back of my baby's head
255) the cowlick that rises into Mohawk tuft
256) the sun breaking out from behind the rain clouds to illumine the day
257) the chirping birdsong
258) the hopping birds searching for their morning meal among the grasses
259) the swift bird-flight soaring and arcing through the trees
260) the still-wet pavement glistening under the sunshine
262) the inspiring video of a hard-run race, falling does not prevent a strong finish
263) the much-needed laugh at my son's antics with Lego buildings
264) the kisses that bring comfort to salty, tear-stained cheeks
265) the timely reading of "Prayers for a Small Child"
266) the snapping turtle cloud
267) the word of God, sharper than two-edged sword, useful for teaching, correcting, rebuking, encouraging, revealing truth
268) the sprawling, open fields
269) the grazing cows
270) the red-leaf fringed bushes about our front porch
271) the sound of my daughter singing "Amazing Grace"
272) the evening-time when the cratered, half moon and low, glowing sun share the sky
273) the many climbing trees edging our property
274) the gnarled, old tree outside our door, still standing
275) the shoes, thoughtfully cleaned by my husband
Day 10-A Firm Foundation (part one)
I glance at the still-sleeping form of my husband. A glint of gold catches my eye. His ring shines in the lessening darkness, reflecting the light seeping into our room. It wasn't like that when I gave it to him. I selected a brushed-gold ring, knowing him to prefer something understated. It was a beautiful effect, even in it's dullness of finish.
As with ring selection, we expended much time and energy in knowing one another's likes and dislikes well. Expectations and dreams. Building a foundation. We spent months diligently attending premarital counseling, doing all the requisite studying and follow-up discussion, reading all recommended books. One of the most highly regarded books at that time was the still-popular "The Five Love Languages." We tore through the chapters, eager to see the other in its pages and be better prepared to meet all the needs that attend growing love.
I could never have anticipated that this book, and others like it, would actually cause so much frustration. There is much to be said for seeking to actively demonstrate love to your spouse, to meet their specific needs and to avoid the damage of unmet expectations. Those pursuits ARE extremely important and worthy endeavors. However, I failed to consider the damage that might occur when the broader perspective of marriage is lost and so much emphasis is placed on what is being done.
Marriage is not really about what my husband does for me. I appreciate it, most definitely! But when I start to focus on what he does and doesn't do, it's only a matter of time before I connect those actions to his feelings for me and my sense of worth and security. When he doesn't do what I want, he doesn't really love me. I don't mean to keep a record of wrongs, but I do. The longer the list of wrongs becomes, the more ingratitude fills my heart. As my heart brims with ingratitude, discontent seeps into the marriage. The more discontent I feel in the relationship, the more I resent HIM for where we are, where I am. Once resentment is the primary attitude of my heart, I no longer desire to actively show love in any form or be receptive to that which he offers.
It's not that there is so much wrong with the doing. We are called to serve one another in love. That's what Ephesians' admonition to husbands and wives is about. Different methods of service, the wife's submission to the husband and the husband's sacrificial love for his wife. A wrong attitude of the heart creates an improper view of service. The attitude of the heart in marriage must be right or the actions will always be lacking.
This is inevitable, because we do not marry perfect people who are able to perfectly meet our needs, love languages or realistic, or unrealistic, expectations all the time. We marry sinners. I am a sinner! All the doing of life is bound to reveal flaws. How I handle those flaws is significant. How I view my husband in light of God's sovereign plan is significant. I can either treat him as a gift from the Lord, a gift to be thankful and grateful for, or as a person there to meet my needs.
So when inevitable failure occurs...what happens then? If my attitude is thankfulness, then I am content in spite of wrongs or unmet expectations. If I can say to my husband: I love you and am thankful for you, because I trust God brought us together. If there is anything to change for the better, that is God's work to do, not mine to identify...THEN I am being gracious. THEN we have a foundation on which to base a marriage.
226) the early morning snuggles of my toddler daughter with her Daddy
227) the baby's sweet, full-body sneeze
228) the oldest son's initiative to serve his siblings breakfast
229) the remarkably bright, blue sky
230) the crisp, clean air
231) the once-reluctant son's new-found enthusiasm for school
232) the tinkling sound of chimes in the distance
234) the twirling dance shared with my daughter
235) the rich, milk chocolate-covered, vanilla bean ice cream bars hidden in the freezer for me by my husband
236) the willingness of my husband to sacrificially serve our family and others
237) the admirable and incomparable work ethic he brings to his job
238) the way he tells me every day I'm beautiful
239) the wisdom and discernment he demonstrates in being a good steward of our finances
240) the gift of his humor
241) the report of answered prayer
242) the advances in medical technology allowing for more accurate diagnoses and treatments
243) the old-fashioned, oval brass curtain rod that turns our tub into a shower
244) the scrubbed, soapy-clean bare surface of my baby
245) the children, all snuggle-y in their pajamas, ready for bed
246) the aroma of percolating coffee
247) the company of great friends
248) the good report of continuing mission work with college students in Ukraine
249) the precious child whose presence defies doctors and testifies to God's power
250) the quiet house, hushed with slumber
As with ring selection, we expended much time and energy in knowing one another's likes and dislikes well. Expectations and dreams. Building a foundation. We spent months diligently attending premarital counseling, doing all the requisite studying and follow-up discussion, reading all recommended books. One of the most highly regarded books at that time was the still-popular "The Five Love Languages." We tore through the chapters, eager to see the other in its pages and be better prepared to meet all the needs that attend growing love.
I could never have anticipated that this book, and others like it, would actually cause so much frustration. There is much to be said for seeking to actively demonstrate love to your spouse, to meet their specific needs and to avoid the damage of unmet expectations. Those pursuits ARE extremely important and worthy endeavors. However, I failed to consider the damage that might occur when the broader perspective of marriage is lost and so much emphasis is placed on what is being done.
Marriage is not really about what my husband does for me. I appreciate it, most definitely! But when I start to focus on what he does and doesn't do, it's only a matter of time before I connect those actions to his feelings for me and my sense of worth and security. When he doesn't do what I want, he doesn't really love me. I don't mean to keep a record of wrongs, but I do. The longer the list of wrongs becomes, the more ingratitude fills my heart. As my heart brims with ingratitude, discontent seeps into the marriage. The more discontent I feel in the relationship, the more I resent HIM for where we are, where I am. Once resentment is the primary attitude of my heart, I no longer desire to actively show love in any form or be receptive to that which he offers.
It's not that there is so much wrong with the doing. We are called to serve one another in love. That's what Ephesians' admonition to husbands and wives is about. Different methods of service, the wife's submission to the husband and the husband's sacrificial love for his wife. A wrong attitude of the heart creates an improper view of service. The attitude of the heart in marriage must be right or the actions will always be lacking.
This is inevitable, because we do not marry perfect people who are able to perfectly meet our needs, love languages or realistic, or unrealistic, expectations all the time. We marry sinners. I am a sinner! All the doing of life is bound to reveal flaws. How I handle those flaws is significant. How I view my husband in light of God's sovereign plan is significant. I can either treat him as a gift from the Lord, a gift to be thankful and grateful for, or as a person there to meet my needs.
So when inevitable failure occurs...what happens then? If my attitude is thankfulness, then I am content in spite of wrongs or unmet expectations. If I can say to my husband: I love you and am thankful for you, because I trust God brought us together. If there is anything to change for the better, that is God's work to do, not mine to identify...THEN I am being gracious. THEN we have a foundation on which to base a marriage.
226) the early morning snuggles of my toddler daughter with her Daddy
227) the baby's sweet, full-body sneeze
228) the oldest son's initiative to serve his siblings breakfast
229) the remarkably bright, blue sky
230) the crisp, clean air
231) the once-reluctant son's new-found enthusiasm for school
232) the tinkling sound of chimes in the distance
234) the twirling dance shared with my daughter
235) the rich, milk chocolate-covered, vanilla bean ice cream bars hidden in the freezer for me by my husband
236) the willingness of my husband to sacrificially serve our family and others
237) the admirable and incomparable work ethic he brings to his job
238) the way he tells me every day I'm beautiful
239) the wisdom and discernment he demonstrates in being a good steward of our finances
240) the gift of his humor
241) the report of answered prayer
242) the advances in medical technology allowing for more accurate diagnoses and treatments
243) the old-fashioned, oval brass curtain rod that turns our tub into a shower
244) the scrubbed, soapy-clean bare surface of my baby
245) the children, all snuggle-y in their pajamas, ready for bed
246) the aroma of percolating coffee
247) the company of great friends
248) the good report of continuing mission work with college students in Ukraine
249) the precious child whose presence defies doctors and testifies to God's power
250) the quiet house, hushed with slumber
Day 9-It's Not Much, But It's Home
I remember, when I was younger, going to homes now and then that I would have said had an "eclectic" taste. Mismatched furniture and decor. Well worn. Well lived in. Yet I never came away thinking they needed a make-over. In fact, I often enjoyed the homey quality. The families all seemed happy, however different their lifestyle may have been from the perfection of Southern Living or Pottery Barn.
Now I live in one of those homes. Watermarks on the buffet. Hand-me-down, used or scratch-and-dent furniture. Nothing considered a "set." Nicks in my bookshelf. Etchings in the dining table. Crayon and pencil drawings on the walls that could probably use a new coat of paint. Forget that we haven't even finished painting some halls and rooms for the first time! A hole in our bedroom window, stuffed with an old white undershirt. Scratched and worn wooden floors.
And I love our home. I've written about it before. It IS old. It IS homey. It IS beautiful to me in all of the life that it holds day in and day out and displays in the very fabric of its structure. But, I admit, sometimes I believe the lie that festers within. The lie that I deserve better, need more. The lie that breeds ingratitude and discontent.
I admiringly surveyed my newly-married sister's home recently and struggled not to envy it's pristine appearance and gorgeous decor. I am extremely happy for her and appreciative of her excellent taste. So why, even in the midst of my joy on her behalf, is it so easy to believe the lie?
Back in Philippians 4, Paul says, "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 learned, through continual thanksgiving, to be content in all circumstances.
Once again, God does not qualify his statements. I either have or don't have. The quality of those provisions is never a matter of consideration. I don't get to complain because my curtains aren't as pretty as someone else's. It might be nice, but it is not a requirement for a happy home. I am not in want or in need. The reality is that I truly have plenty, plenty to be thankful for!
I have floors worn by the tread of many precious feet. I have walls marked by busy, curious, energetic little hands. I have furniture that holds our possessions and our bodies. I have a house that is loved and lived in. I'm reminded of Ron Weasley's humble comments when he brings Harry to their household for the first time, "It's not much. But it's home."
I would offer one caveat. It IS much. And I want to be mindful to give thanks for it, so I too may learn to be content!
201) the rounded belly of my baby boy, full with milk
202) the act of rolling over, another milestone
203) the spacious dining table, large enough for friends and family
204) the hugs shared between the older brothers and their younger siblings before school
205) the hammer-wielding three year old "fixing" protruding nails in our floorboards
206) the microwave that warms my beverage on chilly, winter mornings
207) the fading, dyed-red heels that graced my feet on prom night many years ago, giving my daughters such enjoyment today
208) the act of sitting unassisted, second developmental achievement in one day
209) the warmed, wooden planks under my bare-feet, absorbing sun through the windows
210) the granddaughter missing her Papa
211) the ornate, old buffet that holds all my discontinued Mikasa Richelieu china, purchased from an antique store
212) the sight of my children jumping gleefully on the couch together, before I made them stop
213) the comfort of wearing my husband's button-down shirt
214) the knowledge that God is sovereign over governments
215) the shelves that hold my many well-loved and well-worn books
216) the six frames on the playroom wall that display my children's works of art
217) the almost musical quality of a baby cooing
218) the bushes that become hiding places
219) the slide propped high on the Wheeping Cherry, made from the broken tree-house
220) the compost bin at the fallow garden's corner that will feed our seedlings and plants all spring and summer
221) the sandbox built by my husband's hands, scene of moats, castles, towers and mountains
222) the hole under the dogwood tree where the children dig and get dirty and imagine
223) the crystallized sweetness of dried pineapple
224) the picture of a woman in red with white-flowered bouquet
225) the monthly Book Club meeting tonight
Now I live in one of those homes. Watermarks on the buffet. Hand-me-down, used or scratch-and-dent furniture. Nothing considered a "set." Nicks in my bookshelf. Etchings in the dining table. Crayon and pencil drawings on the walls that could probably use a new coat of paint. Forget that we haven't even finished painting some halls and rooms for the first time! A hole in our bedroom window, stuffed with an old white undershirt. Scratched and worn wooden floors.
And I love our home. I've written about it before. It IS old. It IS homey. It IS beautiful to me in all of the life that it holds day in and day out and displays in the very fabric of its structure. But, I admit, sometimes I believe the lie that festers within. The lie that I deserve better, need more. The lie that breeds ingratitude and discontent.
I admiringly surveyed my newly-married sister's home recently and struggled not to envy it's pristine appearance and gorgeous decor. I am extremely happy for her and appreciative of her excellent taste. So why, even in the midst of my joy on her behalf, is it so easy to believe the lie?
Back in Philippians 4, Paul says, "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 learned, through continual thanksgiving, to be content in all circumstances.
Once again, God does not qualify his statements. I either have or don't have. The quality of those provisions is never a matter of consideration. I don't get to complain because my curtains aren't as pretty as someone else's. It might be nice, but it is not a requirement for a happy home. I am not in want or in need. The reality is that I truly have plenty, plenty to be thankful for!
I have floors worn by the tread of many precious feet. I have walls marked by busy, curious, energetic little hands. I have furniture that holds our possessions and our bodies. I have a house that is loved and lived in. I'm reminded of Ron Weasley's humble comments when he brings Harry to their household for the first time, "It's not much. But it's home."
I would offer one caveat. It IS much. And I want to be mindful to give thanks for it, so I too may learn to be content!
201) the rounded belly of my baby boy, full with milk
202) the act of rolling over, another milestone
203) the spacious dining table, large enough for friends and family
204) the hugs shared between the older brothers and their younger siblings before school
205) the hammer-wielding three year old "fixing" protruding nails in our floorboards
206) the microwave that warms my beverage on chilly, winter mornings
207) the fading, dyed-red heels that graced my feet on prom night many years ago, giving my daughters such enjoyment today
208) the act of sitting unassisted, second developmental achievement in one day
209) the warmed, wooden planks under my bare-feet, absorbing sun through the windows
210) the granddaughter missing her Papa
211) the ornate, old buffet that holds all my discontinued Mikasa Richelieu china, purchased from an antique store
212) the sight of my children jumping gleefully on the couch together, before I made them stop
213) the comfort of wearing my husband's button-down shirt
214) the knowledge that God is sovereign over governments
215) the shelves that hold my many well-loved and well-worn books
216) the six frames on the playroom wall that display my children's works of art
217) the almost musical quality of a baby cooing
218) the bushes that become hiding places
219) the slide propped high on the Wheeping Cherry, made from the broken tree-house
220) the compost bin at the fallow garden's corner that will feed our seedlings and plants all spring and summer
221) the sandbox built by my husband's hands, scene of moats, castles, towers and mountains
222) the hole under the dogwood tree where the children dig and get dirty and imagine
223) the crystallized sweetness of dried pineapple
224) the picture of a woman in red with white-flowered bouquet
225) the monthly Book Club meeting tonight
Day 8- The Mean Girl
I'm learning that I need to fully, FULLY appreciate the people in my life and all that having them in my life brings. It's hard and convicting. I'm still thinking about Philippians 4 and how to practice grateful living, giving thanks in and for all things.
Verse 5 has continued to stick with me, "Let your gentleness be evident to all." And I am realizing something very nasty about myself. I have not been gentle or kind or loving to ALL. One of my coping mechanisms for dealing with daily stress and frustration has been to take my irritation out on our dog. To let her be my outlet, the surrogate receptor of my ingratitude, because I would never unleash the full brunt on my family.
I have not been hurtful to her, but neither have I been very loving or kind. Little things. Seeing her lazing the day away on the hot grate after my long, tiring day with little to no rest. An irritant. So, I make her move. No reason, other than I felt like it. Letting her sit on my husband's lap while we relaxed on the couch? No. He's mine! I've given and shared and poured myself out all day long. I don't want to share any more! So, I deny her, and she curled up on the floor.
I always knew it was selfish and petty, but I justified it. I characterized my actions as quirky or silly...even endearing! How could it NOT be sweet that I want my husband all to myself!? And look, I gave her a blanket to lay on! She's not cold, hungry or alone...just, not cared for.
The longer I pondered this scripture, the more the motivations of my heart were revealed. Hebrews 4: 12-13 says, "For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give an account." And in truth, my thoughts and actions have been nothing short of mean-spirited.
I'm not one of those people who will ever feed her from the table or consider her my "fur-baby." I have six babies, who all need my love and attention. They take precedence. However, she does need more than just nourishment and shelter. She needs my fondness and care as well, a valued place in our family and, yes, sometimes a place on my lap.
God's word does not leave room for partiality. I don't get to pick and choose how or to whom I should be apply it. It simply admonishes, "Let your gentleness be evident to all." And the implications are far-reaching. If I am convicted to show more loving-kindness to my pet, how much more willing should I be to demonstrate kindness, gentleness and love to those that, for one reason or another, I find it difficult to get along with or whose opinions or background differ from my own!?
For now, I am finding that through this daily thanks offering, my heart is more full of gratitude than ingratitude and, as a result, I am more likely to pour out fruit of the Spirit, even to her. Hopefully, this fruit will continue to be evident, not only to those in my insular world, but to any and all I meet!
176) the Lord's protection over friends in a potentially dangerous and life-threatening situation
177) the privilege of lifting the needs of others up before the Father
178) the clean refrigerator, a labor of love from my husband
179) the warm, insulated laundry room
180) the fingers that can zip, button and snap
181) the exhaust tails from distant airplanes streaming across the clear sky
182) the bulbs peaking up through winter ground
183) the neighboring tree that just may be a "Whomping" Willow
184) the American flag flying full and majestic
185) the large, freely-given wardrobe
186) the quilt adorning my bed with crimson, blush and pale blue flowers on delicate vines
187) the ridges in my husband's collarbone, empty screw-holes, physical reminders of God's sovereignty in all circumstances
188) the pigtails, bouncing on my daughter's head as she runs
189) the trustworthy recommendations of friends
190) the Crock-pot, slowly and easily cooking our evening meal
191) the child's painted landscape in watercolor
192) the sweet, flavorful aroma of simmering tomato sauce
193) the elation on my son's face when we found his missing Monkey blanket
194) the way my baby reaches his little hands up to touch my face when I'm near
195) the comforting feeling of a warm mug in my hands
196) the slobbery baby-kisses all over my face
197) the sparkling concord grape juice, deep purple and bubbly in my glass
198) the smooth, clean-shaven face of my husband
199) the tall, dark red champagne flutes
200) the slow dance with my dear one, held close and swept up in the music
Verse 5 has continued to stick with me, "Let your gentleness be evident to all." And I am realizing something very nasty about myself. I have not been gentle or kind or loving to ALL. One of my coping mechanisms for dealing with daily stress and frustration has been to take my irritation out on our dog. To let her be my outlet, the surrogate receptor of my ingratitude, because I would never unleash the full brunt on my family.
I have not been hurtful to her, but neither have I been very loving or kind. Little things. Seeing her lazing the day away on the hot grate after my long, tiring day with little to no rest. An irritant. So, I make her move. No reason, other than I felt like it. Letting her sit on my husband's lap while we relaxed on the couch? No. He's mine! I've given and shared and poured myself out all day long. I don't want to share any more! So, I deny her, and she curled up on the floor.
I always knew it was selfish and petty, but I justified it. I characterized my actions as quirky or silly...even endearing! How could it NOT be sweet that I want my husband all to myself!? And look, I gave her a blanket to lay on! She's not cold, hungry or alone...just, not cared for.
The longer I pondered this scripture, the more the motivations of my heart were revealed. Hebrews 4: 12-13 says, "For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give an account." And in truth, my thoughts and actions have been nothing short of mean-spirited.
I'm not one of those people who will ever feed her from the table or consider her my "fur-baby." I have six babies, who all need my love and attention. They take precedence. However, she does need more than just nourishment and shelter. She needs my fondness and care as well, a valued place in our family and, yes, sometimes a place on my lap.
God's word does not leave room for partiality. I don't get to pick and choose how or to whom I should be apply it. It simply admonishes, "Let your gentleness be evident to all." And the implications are far-reaching. If I am convicted to show more loving-kindness to my pet, how much more willing should I be to demonstrate kindness, gentleness and love to those that, for one reason or another, I find it difficult to get along with or whose opinions or background differ from my own!?
For now, I am finding that through this daily thanks offering, my heart is more full of gratitude than ingratitude and, as a result, I am more likely to pour out fruit of the Spirit, even to her. Hopefully, this fruit will continue to be evident, not only to those in my insular world, but to any and all I meet!
176) the Lord's protection over friends in a potentially dangerous and life-threatening situation
177) the privilege of lifting the needs of others up before the Father
178) the clean refrigerator, a labor of love from my husband
179) the warm, insulated laundry room
180) the fingers that can zip, button and snap
181) the exhaust tails from distant airplanes streaming across the clear sky
182) the bulbs peaking up through winter ground
183) the neighboring tree that just may be a "Whomping" Willow
184) the American flag flying full and majestic
185) the large, freely-given wardrobe
186) the quilt adorning my bed with crimson, blush and pale blue flowers on delicate vines
187) the ridges in my husband's collarbone, empty screw-holes, physical reminders of God's sovereignty in all circumstances
188) the pigtails, bouncing on my daughter's head as she runs
189) the trustworthy recommendations of friends
190) the Crock-pot, slowly and easily cooking our evening meal
191) the child's painted landscape in watercolor
192) the sweet, flavorful aroma of simmering tomato sauce
193) the elation on my son's face when we found his missing Monkey blanket
194) the way my baby reaches his little hands up to touch my face when I'm near
195) the comforting feeling of a warm mug in my hands
196) the slobbery baby-kisses all over my face
197) the sparkling concord grape juice, deep purple and bubbly in my glass
198) the smooth, clean-shaven face of my husband
199) the tall, dark red champagne flutes
200) the slow dance with my dear one, held close and swept up in the music
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Day 7-The Inconvenient Truth
I'm ashamed to admit that there are many days when sitting down to read books with my kids feels inconvenient. Helping them with a request is an intrusion into my daily routine. Sitting down to color or play or build keeps me from doing something...more important. As a mother, that truth about myself is an admission of the biggest kind of failure.
Delving into my thoughts on the use of time last week was just the tip of the ice burg. It was eye-opening to realize that in all my busyness to accomplish things with my allotted time, I was really wasting that most precious commodity. But the conviction didn't stop there. This was not just an issue of overlooking God's gifts to me in my daily haste. It was also an issue of my attitude toward those things and people who alter my plans. How much more awful it has been to realize how deep my selfishness goes. I pour out frustration rather than thankfulness when I feel my time, MY time, isn't being used well. But not only that...I pour out frustration on the things, and especially the ones, who get in my way. The truth about my heart is ugly.
I sat playing with daughter in the playroom Friday. It was fun! We laughed, and I was content. Then I was overwhelmed with the realization that, all too often, rather than truly enjoying these moments, I had to consciously suppress impatience. My breath caught in my throat, and I fought back tears. Even as we walked out the door together to cross the street to the preschool, these emotions of failure continued to flood over me.
And then, the dreariness of that overcast day was literally broken wide open with a burst of sunlight from behind the clouds. It poured over us, shining bright and golden and lighting the dark spaces of tree shadows on the grass, and my heavy heart was glad with thanks.
Deliberately making time for those moments was only half the equation. I could spend every waking moment with my children to the exclusion of all else, dirty dishes in the sink, laundry piled on the couch and crumbs littering the floor, but neither of us would be blessed by that interaction if I was seething inwardly with selfish ingratitude. I needed to go into every moment with a thankful heart. I not only needed a proper view of time but a fuller understanding of the way God uses people in my life...and the knowledge He might be pleased to use me in theirs. Then with all that enough time, as Ms. Voskamp calls it, I would not only fully take hold of God's gifts but also fully appreciate His means of grace to me.
How deep is the Father's love for me, an undeserving sinner, that He continues to heap blessing upon blessing into my life? Thank you, Lord, for shining light into my dark heart, for revealing the depth of my ingratitude and the hope of grace in Christ! Thank you for the sunshine and for my daughter's laughter. Make her into the woman I wish I was!
151) the additional half hour of sleep
152) the banter overheard between brothers
153) the clopping on wood of too-big shoes on little feet
154) the fingers brushing my cheek in a good-morning caress
155) the ring, once dull-finished, becoming more golden with age
156) the dimples at the back of my baby's chubby elbow
157) the tiny, inquisitive hand searching my face in exploration and familiarity
158) the ties that turn boys into handsome little men
159) the twisted tree standing alone in a field
160) the flowers dotting the barren landscape of the veteran's cemetery with color
161) the sun shimmering across the New River
162) the hay bales, round and big and orderly stacked against the pasture fence
163) the wise words of a godly woman
164) the tea bag brought from home to church by my husband for my refreshment
165) the voices in unison raising the chorus "Alleluia, grace like rain pours down on me"
166) the stained glass flower, mosaic of translucent color, on the sanctuary wall
167) the small town in which we reside, homey and familiar
168) the two sisters, playing and giggling together happily
169) the two pairs of feet hanging off the couch, one big, one small, side by side
170) the amateur wrestling match between father and son
171) the sweet smell of brown sugar permeating the kitchen
172) the old, claw-foot bathtub, reminiscent of my Grandma's house and nautical, whale-papered bathroom
173) the aroma of fresh-baked oatmeal bars
174) the weary child, heavy with approaching slumber, in my arms
175) the father and daughter gleefully whirling together in dance
Delving into my thoughts on the use of time last week was just the tip of the ice burg. It was eye-opening to realize that in all my busyness to accomplish things with my allotted time, I was really wasting that most precious commodity. But the conviction didn't stop there. This was not just an issue of overlooking God's gifts to me in my daily haste. It was also an issue of my attitude toward those things and people who alter my plans. How much more awful it has been to realize how deep my selfishness goes. I pour out frustration rather than thankfulness when I feel my time, MY time, isn't being used well. But not only that...I pour out frustration on the things, and especially the ones, who get in my way. The truth about my heart is ugly.
I sat playing with daughter in the playroom Friday. It was fun! We laughed, and I was content. Then I was overwhelmed with the realization that, all too often, rather than truly enjoying these moments, I had to consciously suppress impatience. My breath caught in my throat, and I fought back tears. Even as we walked out the door together to cross the street to the preschool, these emotions of failure continued to flood over me.
And then, the dreariness of that overcast day was literally broken wide open with a burst of sunlight from behind the clouds. It poured over us, shining bright and golden and lighting the dark spaces of tree shadows on the grass, and my heavy heart was glad with thanks.
Deliberately making time for those moments was only half the equation. I could spend every waking moment with my children to the exclusion of all else, dirty dishes in the sink, laundry piled on the couch and crumbs littering the floor, but neither of us would be blessed by that interaction if I was seething inwardly with selfish ingratitude. I needed to go into every moment with a thankful heart. I not only needed a proper view of time but a fuller understanding of the way God uses people in my life...and the knowledge He might be pleased to use me in theirs. Then with all that enough time, as Ms. Voskamp calls it, I would not only fully take hold of God's gifts but also fully appreciate His means of grace to me.
How deep is the Father's love for me, an undeserving sinner, that He continues to heap blessing upon blessing into my life? Thank you, Lord, for shining light into my dark heart, for revealing the depth of my ingratitude and the hope of grace in Christ! Thank you for the sunshine and for my daughter's laughter. Make her into the woman I wish I was!
151) the additional half hour of sleep
152) the banter overheard between brothers
153) the clopping on wood of too-big shoes on little feet
154) the fingers brushing my cheek in a good-morning caress
155) the ring, once dull-finished, becoming more golden with age
156) the dimples at the back of my baby's chubby elbow
157) the tiny, inquisitive hand searching my face in exploration and familiarity
158) the ties that turn boys into handsome little men
159) the twisted tree standing alone in a field
160) the flowers dotting the barren landscape of the veteran's cemetery with color
161) the sun shimmering across the New River
162) the hay bales, round and big and orderly stacked against the pasture fence
163) the wise words of a godly woman
164) the tea bag brought from home to church by my husband for my refreshment
165) the voices in unison raising the chorus "Alleluia, grace like rain pours down on me"
166) the stained glass flower, mosaic of translucent color, on the sanctuary wall
167) the small town in which we reside, homey and familiar
168) the two sisters, playing and giggling together happily
169) the two pairs of feet hanging off the couch, one big, one small, side by side
170) the amateur wrestling match between father and son
171) the sweet smell of brown sugar permeating the kitchen
172) the old, claw-foot bathtub, reminiscent of my Grandma's house and nautical, whale-papered bathroom
173) the aroma of fresh-baked oatmeal bars
174) the weary child, heavy with approaching slumber, in my arms
175) the father and daughter gleefully whirling together in dance
Day 6-The Time Turner
On Wednesday I took a few minutes of quiet to sit on the couch and snuggle with my baby. Normally, I would systematically and efficiently take care of business, the feeding, the diaper, putting him down to play and moving on to the first of many to-dos of the day. I don't have time to do it any other way.
Time. A big don't-have. I often joke to Mike that I need a time turner like Hermione Granger. On that day, I stopped. Made that moment deliberate. Searched for the goodness of God in it.
I slowed down and wrote about those moments. Then I spied the clock. Where had the time gone? Fifteen minutes until I walked the two to school and none were dressed! Rushing, rushing. Five minutes and two were still naked! We made it, down to the minute, but I herded them out the door still in my sleep pants, the lilac ones covered in a rainbow of butterflies. They didn't remotely pass for regular clothes. I felt the push. I gave up time on one thing for time on another, and it didn't feel like enough!
Later I took my toddler in my room and let her help me with my bed. A simple act but so against the grain. It took twice as long, not a "good" use of time. Usually, I would hurry to work around her, not work with her. But I did it, and she was delighted. We approached the pile of laundry together. She put on a pair of her brother's underwear, and we laughed. I even took a picture! One pair of pants folded, then she saw sparkling sunlight on the wall, refracted through our window in a beautiful way I'd never noticed before. She ran to it, wanting to touch it, so we did.
To my surprise, I checked the clock and discovered that the morning's time had flown by but, instead of feeling anxiety over the many things still left undone, I felt unfazed. I was baffled. I had done less than expected, but I felt as though I had accomplished more! What an amazing paradox! Seeing God's gifts to me takes time. It requires deliberate attention. Thankfulness is learned and cannot be rushed. It does not fit into a schedule. It does not fit neatly into a box. Contentment thrives where God's gifts in time are appreciated.
Then that afternoon began to slip away, back, back into the normal routine of busyness. I looked at the clock. I had just enough time between a feeding and a nap to finish the dishes. I scrubbed and rinsed. Only halfway done and I poked my head out of the kitchen to see if the baby appeared happy, entertaining himself. I was smote with guilt.
My husband always tells me, spend time with our children. THAT is your job. I love that he says this, and I believe he is genuine. But, I always think to myself, when will the things that NEED to be done, get done? After bedtime? Tomorrow?! We need clean dishes to eat on, clean clothes to wear, food to eat. It all has to be done some time! There never seems to be enough for everything, to accomplish the "urgent" and the "necessary." I separate the two because, I am realizing, the necessary and the urgent are rarely the same.
I talked myself into leaving the dishes half done. I began to leave the kitchen and spied the leaves accumulating under the cupboards, evidence of Tuesday's outdoor adventures. I grabbed the broom. This I could do quickly. I had time...I gave in and swept. I wished that I would not, even as I did it. Finally, I went out and picked up my baby and gathered two others, and we sat on the floor, reading books together.
It was a hard thing, making those choices throughout the day, and it grates on me to admit how hard. But I was, am, beginning to understand how to really "turn time." Not take it back, not make more, but turn it into that which is enough.
Thursday morning I found myself on the couch surrounded by four children reading more books. I looked around, surprised at myself. Was I not normally busy with something else at this time of the morning? But, for the life of me, I could not remember what I was supposed to be doing except exactly that. I looked down and smiled at my son's chubby little knees. Precious.
Every time I deliberately accept the time that I have as enough for what matters, I know I will have an opportunity to see another of God's blessings to me. All the minutiae of living will be attended to in due time. Indeed, as that day went on, I discovered that when I stopped rushing around chasing perfection and slowed down in performing, and enjoying, all the tasks that were really essential, there was plenty of time. Even more than I needed.
126) the whirring sound of air rushing up the central duct and passing through the grate
127) the tent of blankets completely obscuring our dining room table
128) the moment of stillness when an unwell child rests their head upon my chest for comfort
129) the way my daughter's little legs flail when she runs, free and with total abandon
130) the pieces of cereal in my daughter's hands zooming around in overlapping orbit until they collide and crumble
131) the blanket that soothes her hurts when her thumb cannot
132) the adornment of purple, my husband's favorite
133) the decadent taste of rich dark chocolate
134) the old bottle of aftershave, fragrant with memories
135) the fan that circulates the heat throughout the first floor
136) the silky drizzle of honey
137) the drooping, winter-barren limbs of our majestic Weeping Cherry sweeping over the yard
138) the strong scent of citrus as peel is pared from orange flesh
139) the unmatched enthusiasm of boys for a tale of heroics and adventure
140) the distant mountains rising up from the valley
141) the horizon haze where land meets sky
142) the clouds swiftly floating across my field of vision
143) the creamy yellow roses tipped pinky-rouge
144) the last loaf on the day-old bread cart
145) the rainbow, Covenant of Grace visible on earth
146) the beautiful lyrics, like my own heart-song
147) the triumphant child's first potty success
148) the meal appreciated by friends in need
149) the vast improvement in my son's reading ability
150) the deep blue eyes that wept on our wedding day and smiled with silent 'I love yous' every day since
Time. A big don't-have. I often joke to Mike that I need a time turner like Hermione Granger. On that day, I stopped. Made that moment deliberate. Searched for the goodness of God in it.
I slowed down and wrote about those moments. Then I spied the clock. Where had the time gone? Fifteen minutes until I walked the two to school and none were dressed! Rushing, rushing. Five minutes and two were still naked! We made it, down to the minute, but I herded them out the door still in my sleep pants, the lilac ones covered in a rainbow of butterflies. They didn't remotely pass for regular clothes. I felt the push. I gave up time on one thing for time on another, and it didn't feel like enough!
Later I took my toddler in my room and let her help me with my bed. A simple act but so against the grain. It took twice as long, not a "good" use of time. Usually, I would hurry to work around her, not work with her. But I did it, and she was delighted. We approached the pile of laundry together. She put on a pair of her brother's underwear, and we laughed. I even took a picture! One pair of pants folded, then she saw sparkling sunlight on the wall, refracted through our window in a beautiful way I'd never noticed before. She ran to it, wanting to touch it, so we did.
To my surprise, I checked the clock and discovered that the morning's time had flown by but, instead of feeling anxiety over the many things still left undone, I felt unfazed. I was baffled. I had done less than expected, but I felt as though I had accomplished more! What an amazing paradox! Seeing God's gifts to me takes time. It requires deliberate attention. Thankfulness is learned and cannot be rushed. It does not fit into a schedule. It does not fit neatly into a box. Contentment thrives where God's gifts in time are appreciated.
Then that afternoon began to slip away, back, back into the normal routine of busyness. I looked at the clock. I had just enough time between a feeding and a nap to finish the dishes. I scrubbed and rinsed. Only halfway done and I poked my head out of the kitchen to see if the baby appeared happy, entertaining himself. I was smote with guilt.
My husband always tells me, spend time with our children. THAT is your job. I love that he says this, and I believe he is genuine. But, I always think to myself, when will the things that NEED to be done, get done? After bedtime? Tomorrow?! We need clean dishes to eat on, clean clothes to wear, food to eat. It all has to be done some time! There never seems to be enough for everything, to accomplish the "urgent" and the "necessary." I separate the two because, I am realizing, the necessary and the urgent are rarely the same.
I talked myself into leaving the dishes half done. I began to leave the kitchen and spied the leaves accumulating under the cupboards, evidence of Tuesday's outdoor adventures. I grabbed the broom. This I could do quickly. I had time...I gave in and swept. I wished that I would not, even as I did it. Finally, I went out and picked up my baby and gathered two others, and we sat on the floor, reading books together.
It was a hard thing, making those choices throughout the day, and it grates on me to admit how hard. But I was, am, beginning to understand how to really "turn time." Not take it back, not make more, but turn it into that which is enough.
Thursday morning I found myself on the couch surrounded by four children reading more books. I looked around, surprised at myself. Was I not normally busy with something else at this time of the morning? But, for the life of me, I could not remember what I was supposed to be doing except exactly that. I looked down and smiled at my son's chubby little knees. Precious.
Every time I deliberately accept the time that I have as enough for what matters, I know I will have an opportunity to see another of God's blessings to me. All the minutiae of living will be attended to in due time. Indeed, as that day went on, I discovered that when I stopped rushing around chasing perfection and slowed down in performing, and enjoying, all the tasks that were really essential, there was plenty of time. Even more than I needed.
126) the whirring sound of air rushing up the central duct and passing through the grate
127) the tent of blankets completely obscuring our dining room table
128) the moment of stillness when an unwell child rests their head upon my chest for comfort
129) the way my daughter's little legs flail when she runs, free and with total abandon
130) the pieces of cereal in my daughter's hands zooming around in overlapping orbit until they collide and crumble
131) the blanket that soothes her hurts when her thumb cannot
132) the adornment of purple, my husband's favorite
133) the decadent taste of rich dark chocolate
134) the old bottle of aftershave, fragrant with memories
135) the fan that circulates the heat throughout the first floor
136) the silky drizzle of honey
137) the drooping, winter-barren limbs of our majestic Weeping Cherry sweeping over the yard
138) the strong scent of citrus as peel is pared from orange flesh
139) the unmatched enthusiasm of boys for a tale of heroics and adventure
140) the distant mountains rising up from the valley
141) the horizon haze where land meets sky
142) the clouds swiftly floating across my field of vision
143) the creamy yellow roses tipped pinky-rouge
144) the last loaf on the day-old bread cart
145) the rainbow, Covenant of Grace visible on earth
146) the beautiful lyrics, like my own heart-song
147) the triumphant child's first potty success
148) the meal appreciated by friends in need
149) the vast improvement in my son's reading ability
150) the deep blue eyes that wept on our wedding day and smiled with silent 'I love yous' every day since
Day 5-Evident to All
I stand in the kitchen and stare at the counter. No boys' lunchboxes deposited where they should be, waiting to receive food for the day. I sigh and think instead of the happiness of reaching for my husband in the early hours and finding him ready to hold me close, my first gift of the day.
For the most part, the mornings have been manageable this week. Sure, there are moments. The spills. The tantrums. The lamp knocked over again. The screaming, fighting siblings. The whining and pouting. The poop or spit up everywhere. Stop, you're into something you shouldn't be! I clean up one thing and turn around, MORE mess! I put out one fire and another springs up...but it takes one look at my baby to bring me back. I cannot help but offer thanks for the miracle of his presence. Then I look around, and I cannot help but see God's gifts there too. Then I see the beautiful smile on my toddler's face. I usually miss it as I cringe in frustration, extricating her from yet another curiosity gone wrong. I see my son's enthusiastic face as he happily entertains himself. I hear my daughter's happy voice as she hums along to another melody she's heard recently. I look out the window and see His creation. I see God's gifts everywhere, and they bring me back.
The afternoons, they're harder. The afternoon brings my older sons and husband home. All people whom I love SO MUCH...bringing compounded noise and energy. They collide with the fragile equilibrium over which I pretend to preside. I am tired, and there are more people for the same eyes and hands to contend with, which yields MORE mess, noise and conflict! In the midst of this and the aftermath of this, Philippians 4:5 comes back to me. "Let your gentleness be evident to all."
I haven't told my husband or my children about my list of thanksgiving. Because, I wonder if this thankfulness I am learning to cultivate in my heart through the continual prompting of the Spirit will not only draw me closer to the Lord but also bring about the bearing of all those other fruits which would be evident in my speech and actions without my ever having to explain myself. Evident to all.
Will my speech be more gentle, slow to anger, less defensive? Will my discipline be characterized by more patience and self-control? Will my husband notice that as I am filled with more gratitude, I complain less, that I see opportunities to be thankful where I would not have before? Will my every act as mother and wife and friend be filled with more genuine kindness and love? Will I have a deeper faith that grows both inwardly and outwardly?
I wonder if they will see it, if others will see it, the peace that I'm coming to feel when I am tempted, yet again, to lash out in another act of sinfulness. When my world, my world that I love, all comes clashing together, will they see that the Lord is my calm in the storm? I am thankful for all of the gifts He gives me in the morning AND in the evening, in the sunshine and in the rain. He is the one who calms the seas! He is sovereign over all this and more, every moment of my day. I am thankful for it, I search for it, and I desire that that thanks would be evident.
101) the middle-of-the-night hug, reached for and found in the darkness
102) the comforting softness of my memory foam mattress against me
103) the uninterrupted night's sleep
104) the too-long sleeves hanging down over my son's hands
105) the "Ta-Da!" issued triumphantly from my son's mouth as he buttons his own coat
106) the dark, gray clouds heavy with rain
107) the mist on my face, water condensed in air
108) the reading of a child's favorite book, with sound effects!
109) the abundance of food in my cupboards on the day when there usually isn't
110) the curtains glowing through with the light behind them
111) the sweet good-bye kiss from my daughter before she enters her classroom
112) the feet that dance
113) the conviction of the Holy Spirit
114) the sunshine pouring bright and golden over the grass as the clouds roll away
115) the greenish design on my Starry Midnight stoneware that hints of Celtic origins
116) the water running diagonally down the grooves in my griddle like so many rushing streams
117) the small hand of my daughter holding mine as she sits next to me while I feed her baby brother
118) the black and tan puppy head cocked inquisitively to the side
119) the couch pillows supporting my back while I nurse
120) the way my son remembered to remove his dirty shoes before running through the house
121) the smokey smell of the blazing fire pit seeping into the house
122) the flickering of orange flame fast engulfing a kindling tripod
123) the red-hot embers dancing away on the wind
124) the white-black crackle of charring bark
125) the old hard-cover, carry-on luggage that my toddler daughter moves back and forth across the kitchen as a stool, following my every move, so as to get the closest view of each stage in dinner's preparation
For the most part, the mornings have been manageable this week. Sure, there are moments. The spills. The tantrums. The lamp knocked over again. The screaming, fighting siblings. The whining and pouting. The poop or spit up everywhere. Stop, you're into something you shouldn't be! I clean up one thing and turn around, MORE mess! I put out one fire and another springs up...but it takes one look at my baby to bring me back. I cannot help but offer thanks for the miracle of his presence. Then I look around, and I cannot help but see God's gifts there too. Then I see the beautiful smile on my toddler's face. I usually miss it as I cringe in frustration, extricating her from yet another curiosity gone wrong. I see my son's enthusiastic face as he happily entertains himself. I hear my daughter's happy voice as she hums along to another melody she's heard recently. I look out the window and see His creation. I see God's gifts everywhere, and they bring me back.
The afternoons, they're harder. The afternoon brings my older sons and husband home. All people whom I love SO MUCH...bringing compounded noise and energy. They collide with the fragile equilibrium over which I pretend to preside. I am tired, and there are more people for the same eyes and hands to contend with, which yields MORE mess, noise and conflict! In the midst of this and the aftermath of this, Philippians 4:5 comes back to me. "Let your gentleness be evident to all."
I haven't told my husband or my children about my list of thanksgiving. Because, I wonder if this thankfulness I am learning to cultivate in my heart through the continual prompting of the Spirit will not only draw me closer to the Lord but also bring about the bearing of all those other fruits which would be evident in my speech and actions without my ever having to explain myself. Evident to all.
Will my speech be more gentle, slow to anger, less defensive? Will my discipline be characterized by more patience and self-control? Will my husband notice that as I am filled with more gratitude, I complain less, that I see opportunities to be thankful where I would not have before? Will my every act as mother and wife and friend be filled with more genuine kindness and love? Will I have a deeper faith that grows both inwardly and outwardly?
I wonder if they will see it, if others will see it, the peace that I'm coming to feel when I am tempted, yet again, to lash out in another act of sinfulness. When my world, my world that I love, all comes clashing together, will they see that the Lord is my calm in the storm? I am thankful for all of the gifts He gives me in the morning AND in the evening, in the sunshine and in the rain. He is the one who calms the seas! He is sovereign over all this and more, every moment of my day. I am thankful for it, I search for it, and I desire that that thanks would be evident.
101) the middle-of-the-night hug, reached for and found in the darkness
102) the comforting softness of my memory foam mattress against me
103) the uninterrupted night's sleep
104) the too-long sleeves hanging down over my son's hands
105) the "Ta-Da!" issued triumphantly from my son's mouth as he buttons his own coat
106) the dark, gray clouds heavy with rain
107) the mist on my face, water condensed in air
108) the reading of a child's favorite book, with sound effects!
109) the abundance of food in my cupboards on the day when there usually isn't
110) the curtains glowing through with the light behind them
111) the sweet good-bye kiss from my daughter before she enters her classroom
112) the feet that dance
113) the conviction of the Holy Spirit
114) the sunshine pouring bright and golden over the grass as the clouds roll away
115) the greenish design on my Starry Midnight stoneware that hints of Celtic origins
116) the water running diagonally down the grooves in my griddle like so many rushing streams
117) the small hand of my daughter holding mine as she sits next to me while I feed her baby brother
118) the black and tan puppy head cocked inquisitively to the side
119) the couch pillows supporting my back while I nurse
120) the way my son remembered to remove his dirty shoes before running through the house
121) the smokey smell of the blazing fire pit seeping into the house
122) the flickering of orange flame fast engulfing a kindling tripod
123) the red-hot embers dancing away on the wind
124) the white-black crackle of charring bark
125) the old hard-cover, carry-on luggage that my toddler daughter moves back and forth across the kitchen as a stool, following my every move, so as to get the closest view of each stage in dinner's preparation
Day 4-It's All Connected
I look down at the space between my desk and the wall. There sits the gate from yesterday, still unfixed and unusable. The couch hovers in my peripheral vision still covered with the laundry I started working on two days ago. I sigh. I'm thinking again about Philippians 4. Specifically, verses 4 and 5, "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all." They don't quite seem to fit with the verses that follow, verses that seem more important and powerful to me, verses about anxiety, petitioning the Lord, the peace of God and, yes, thanksgiving. And yet, there they are. I think about it. Gentleness? What is gentleness exactly? I'm not sure that word characterizes me. I think about it some more. It is a fruit of the Spirit. So, I flip through my Bible and read Galations 5:22-26.
"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other."
Love? I demonstrate that sometimes. Joy? Well, I'm working on that; hopefully it will be a spiritual manifestation of the inward maturation that comes through this exercise of "journaling." Patience? Let's move on. Kindness, goodness, faithfulness, self-control? Ha! Gentleness? The Lord knows how woefully deficient I am in all these areas. And yet, these attributes are the mark of a Christian!
Now, I'm fully aware that this side of heaven, perfection is not an option. Only Jesus Christ was perfect in every aspect of his character. But I am called to be like Christ. AT least, more like him over the course of my life as I work out my salvation...that's sanctification, a good old theological term. It rings true. It's a process, not an event. Certainly, I am a new creation in Christ, but I don't automatically bear fully-ripened fruit...so where do I start? Where does the Holy Spirit begin this work in me?
I look at the list. Thankfulness is noticeably absent. Why? It seems like a worthy quality. Jesus himself gave thanks over and over to the Father during his life and ministry. Aren't we to emulate him? I look back at verse 4 of Philippians 4. Rejoice in the Lord always. Rejoice. That's another way to say, be glad! Be grateful! Give thanks! What if...what if it's all connected!? What if giving thanks not only begets the peace of God...but it also precedes the fruits of the Spirit as well? What if offering thanks to our Lord daily plants the heart-seeds which bloom to bear spiritual fruit? If my heart is brimming full with gratitude to the Lord, it spills over into every other area so that I, who have been shown MUCH grace, extend that grace in equal or greater measure to others with more love, more kindness, more patience, more, more, more.
What an excellent list! All the more reason to press on with mine today...continuing to record the good gifts of the Lord for which I am truly thankful!
76) the little ear, curved against my baby's face, that hears and knows my voice
77) the small fingers, grasped securely about my thumb
78) the sweet gaze of a father who looks lovingly at his son
79) the sound of scripture recited from the mouth of a child
80) the kaleidoscope of natural color in the rocks I find in my bathroom sink
81) the smell of fire on the morning air
82) the intricate swirl of glaze on the cream and brown Romanian pottery gracing my kitchen windowsill
83) the boo-boos brought to me for healing kisses
84) the squeezable chubbiness of my baby's growing legs
85) the fountain that springs from my faucet, ready for quenching a child's thirst
86) the cream that brings soothing relief to my baby's chapped skin
87) the way my "Shhhhhhhhh...", face close by my baby's ear, can stem the flow of his tears
88) the mountain breeze that swirls around me when I open the door
89) the hot dish water around my hands whose warmth travels gradually up my limbs and encompasses me
90) the wagging tail of a happy puppy
91) the words from my daughter, "You did that just like Grandma!", one of the best compliments I could receive
92) the wavy, distorted images through our uneven window glass
93) the leaves dancing in the wind
94) the billowing white clouds against a purple-blue sky
95) the twinkling Christmas lights still adorning neighboring shrubbery
96) the cinnamon-sugar pastry filled with sweet apples
97) the unexpected gift of wild raspberry tea
98) the shared moment of muffled laughter with my husband when a child misspeaks
99) the gesture of endearment, running his hand over my hair
100) the laughter shared viewing pictures of our children's day's endeavors
"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other."
Love? I demonstrate that sometimes. Joy? Well, I'm working on that; hopefully it will be a spiritual manifestation of the inward maturation that comes through this exercise of "journaling." Patience? Let's move on. Kindness, goodness, faithfulness, self-control? Ha! Gentleness? The Lord knows how woefully deficient I am in all these areas. And yet, these attributes are the mark of a Christian!
Now, I'm fully aware that this side of heaven, perfection is not an option. Only Jesus Christ was perfect in every aspect of his character. But I am called to be like Christ. AT least, more like him over the course of my life as I work out my salvation...that's sanctification, a good old theological term. It rings true. It's a process, not an event. Certainly, I am a new creation in Christ, but I don't automatically bear fully-ripened fruit...so where do I start? Where does the Holy Spirit begin this work in me?
I look at the list. Thankfulness is noticeably absent. Why? It seems like a worthy quality. Jesus himself gave thanks over and over to the Father during his life and ministry. Aren't we to emulate him? I look back at verse 4 of Philippians 4. Rejoice in the Lord always. Rejoice. That's another way to say, be glad! Be grateful! Give thanks! What if...what if it's all connected!? What if giving thanks not only begets the peace of God...but it also precedes the fruits of the Spirit as well? What if offering thanks to our Lord daily plants the heart-seeds which bloom to bear spiritual fruit? If my heart is brimming full with gratitude to the Lord, it spills over into every other area so that I, who have been shown MUCH grace, extend that grace in equal or greater measure to others with more love, more kindness, more patience, more, more, more.
What an excellent list! All the more reason to press on with mine today...continuing to record the good gifts of the Lord for which I am truly thankful!
76) the little ear, curved against my baby's face, that hears and knows my voice
77) the small fingers, grasped securely about my thumb
78) the sweet gaze of a father who looks lovingly at his son
79) the sound of scripture recited from the mouth of a child
80) the kaleidoscope of natural color in the rocks I find in my bathroom sink
81) the smell of fire on the morning air
82) the intricate swirl of glaze on the cream and brown Romanian pottery gracing my kitchen windowsill
83) the boo-boos brought to me for healing kisses
84) the squeezable chubbiness of my baby's growing legs
85) the fountain that springs from my faucet, ready for quenching a child's thirst
86) the cream that brings soothing relief to my baby's chapped skin
87) the way my "Shhhhhhhhh...", face close by my baby's ear, can stem the flow of his tears
88) the mountain breeze that swirls around me when I open the door
89) the hot dish water around my hands whose warmth travels gradually up my limbs and encompasses me
90) the wagging tail of a happy puppy
91) the words from my daughter, "You did that just like Grandma!", one of the best compliments I could receive
92) the wavy, distorted images through our uneven window glass
93) the leaves dancing in the wind
94) the billowing white clouds against a purple-blue sky
95) the twinkling Christmas lights still adorning neighboring shrubbery
96) the cinnamon-sugar pastry filled with sweet apples
97) the unexpected gift of wild raspberry tea
98) the shared moment of muffled laughter with my husband when a child misspeaks
99) the gesture of endearment, running his hand over my hair
100) the laughter shared viewing pictures of our children's day's endeavors
Day 3-Peace Came
I wake this morning and I know, already, I am going to need this again. My eyes burn as I open them. My neck is stiff. Two children were up in the night. Why do I never feel rested enough? As I stumble up the stairs in the dark, see the orbs of light on the street pass and fade, take in the black fingers of spindly trees outside the window and grab one child from her bed...on to another. Wake up. Start the day. On to the next. Time to get up. Get up.
The blessings aren't registering yet. The gate is off the track again. Unaligned. Useless to bar my busy, into-everything toddler from the kitchen and the refrigerator and the glass and the sharp things. I say out loud, "I will NOT get through the day without this." I snatch a fleeting moment for myself, mixing hot cocoa, topping it with that peppermint whipped cream cloud I thanked God for yesterday, insignificant...but not. Then I realize a diaper needs to be changed, and I fight off petty frustration as the white cloud already begins to dissipate and melt. I know I cannot win this fight.
I look up Philippians 4. Ms Voskamp referenced it in her book.Philippians 4:4-7 says, "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
Yesterday I recorded the majority of my list for that day by early afternoon. It was a good thing too, because the afternoon and evening provided MANY stressful opportunities for frustration to overwhelm or, more accurately, for the sinfulness of my heart to pour out. The Lord knew I would need the encouragement that sprang from seeing and acknowledging all of His many blessings to me in the morning. Not that they weren't there in the evening as well, it was just more of a struggle to see them. But they were there. I wrote them down to ensure they would not be lost in the chaos. I held on to them. And because I was mindful that the Lord IS near, HE enabled me to make it through.
How strange, really...it's not that I willed myself to stay focused but, as Philipians says, peace came AFTER thanksgiving. Peace came. It does transcend my understanding. Not that MY actions conjured up unusual calm, but that because the day was filled with continual offerings of thanks, my heart was filled with gratitude and contentment in the Lord rather than ingratitude and discontent. In this way, though I felt the flickering flames of frustration start to burn me again and again, the wellspring of Life guarded my heart. Thankfulness made me more aware of the Lord's goodness and all-sufficient grace to me, in ALL things and, especially, in all the little valleys that are the pot-holes in my daily journey.
I know these verses well. I've read them before, because I am anxious ALL the time as I navigate these pot-holes. I feel it already this morning. The urge to rush, to stress...and so I try to pray, I want today what I had yesterday. But I usually gloss over the part about praying with thanksgiving. The arrow hits the mark. I pray, "Lord, help me to see your gifts to me again today. Again. Today. I want to be thankful, not ungrateful, for whatever you have ordained for me."
My hand accidentally brushes across the sensor pad and scrolls back a page. All my thoughts and petitions and thanks gone. No. No! Really? I go back. See an automatically-created draft. It is all there. Saved. I sigh. Thank you. It dawns on me...God receives my thanks even if all this were erased from record. Yes, that's true. I look over and see my toddler gleefully smearing dirt-encrusted shoes all over the ottoman. But I am thankful for the small gift that, for my benefit, it's not.
51) the warm, tear-wet nuzzle in my neck
52) the little hand, pressed flat to my side, as I cradle him close
53) the sweet post-nursing snuggle where time felt suspended, nothing as pressing or urgent as that moment
54) the glistening dew drops suspended in the grass
55) the entwined tree branches, woven dark against the canvas of the clear blue morning sky
54) the color red, that I love, deep and translucent and beautiful in the glass votives on my buffet
56) the encouragement of a dear friend, whose familiarity has weathered the passing of years
57) the wispy curls framing my daughter's face
58) the little feet, kicking the air, peeking up over the bumper's edge as I approach
59) the whistle that sounds from the train chugging along the track
60) the button nose, expertly placed between two chipmunk cheeks, so like mine
61) the notes of a beautiful melody
62) the happy smile on my daughter's face as she proudly helps make my bed, loudly huffing as she carries pillows larger than her little body and mimicking my hand movements as we tuck sheets into place
63) the way he sticks his little tongue out when he smiles, and I laugh with joy every time
64) the smile on my face when, silly that it is, she calls our dachshund "Muh-mut"
65) the crackling of sunlight on my wall, like a delicate white-light spiderweb, shining through the imperfections in our old window glass
66) the sweet, vibrant taste of a juiced orange
67) the health of my children
68) the iridescent bubbles clinging to my dish sink like the foam on distant shores
69) the flecks of red in the stubble on my husband's face
70) the way his arm wraps around me and holds me tight to his side
71) the strong hand that envelopes mine
72) the smell of my baby's head, there is nothing comparable
73) the big, mischievous grin on my son's face when he wants attention and knows he's going to get it
74) the news of potential financial savings on food staples
75) the hands of my daughter, clasped under her chin in prayer
The blessings aren't registering yet. The gate is off the track again. Unaligned. Useless to bar my busy, into-everything toddler from the kitchen and the refrigerator and the glass and the sharp things. I say out loud, "I will NOT get through the day without this." I snatch a fleeting moment for myself, mixing hot cocoa, topping it with that peppermint whipped cream cloud I thanked God for yesterday, insignificant...but not. Then I realize a diaper needs to be changed, and I fight off petty frustration as the white cloud already begins to dissipate and melt. I know I cannot win this fight.
I look up Philippians 4. Ms Voskamp referenced it in her book.Philippians 4:4-7 says, "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
Yesterday I recorded the majority of my list for that day by early afternoon. It was a good thing too, because the afternoon and evening provided MANY stressful opportunities for frustration to overwhelm or, more accurately, for the sinfulness of my heart to pour out. The Lord knew I would need the encouragement that sprang from seeing and acknowledging all of His many blessings to me in the morning. Not that they weren't there in the evening as well, it was just more of a struggle to see them. But they were there. I wrote them down to ensure they would not be lost in the chaos. I held on to them. And because I was mindful that the Lord IS near, HE enabled me to make it through.
How strange, really...it's not that I willed myself to stay focused but, as Philipians says, peace came AFTER thanksgiving. Peace came. It does transcend my understanding. Not that MY actions conjured up unusual calm, but that because the day was filled with continual offerings of thanks, my heart was filled with gratitude and contentment in the Lord rather than ingratitude and discontent. In this way, though I felt the flickering flames of frustration start to burn me again and again, the wellspring of Life guarded my heart. Thankfulness made me more aware of the Lord's goodness and all-sufficient grace to me, in ALL things and, especially, in all the little valleys that are the pot-holes in my daily journey.
I know these verses well. I've read them before, because I am anxious ALL the time as I navigate these pot-holes. I feel it already this morning. The urge to rush, to stress...and so I try to pray, I want today what I had yesterday. But I usually gloss over the part about praying with thanksgiving. The arrow hits the mark. I pray, "Lord, help me to see your gifts to me again today. Again. Today. I want to be thankful, not ungrateful, for whatever you have ordained for me."
My hand accidentally brushes across the sensor pad and scrolls back a page. All my thoughts and petitions and thanks gone. No. No! Really? I go back. See an automatically-created draft. It is all there. Saved. I sigh. Thank you. It dawns on me...God receives my thanks even if all this were erased from record. Yes, that's true. I look over and see my toddler gleefully smearing dirt-encrusted shoes all over the ottoman. But I am thankful for the small gift that, for my benefit, it's not.
51) the warm, tear-wet nuzzle in my neck
52) the little hand, pressed flat to my side, as I cradle him close
53) the sweet post-nursing snuggle where time felt suspended, nothing as pressing or urgent as that moment
54) the glistening dew drops suspended in the grass
55) the entwined tree branches, woven dark against the canvas of the clear blue morning sky
54) the color red, that I love, deep and translucent and beautiful in the glass votives on my buffet
56) the encouragement of a dear friend, whose familiarity has weathered the passing of years
57) the wispy curls framing my daughter's face
58) the little feet, kicking the air, peeking up over the bumper's edge as I approach
59) the whistle that sounds from the train chugging along the track
60) the button nose, expertly placed between two chipmunk cheeks, so like mine
61) the notes of a beautiful melody
62) the happy smile on my daughter's face as she proudly helps make my bed, loudly huffing as she carries pillows larger than her little body and mimicking my hand movements as we tuck sheets into place
63) the way he sticks his little tongue out when he smiles, and I laugh with joy every time
64) the smile on my face when, silly that it is, she calls our dachshund "Muh-mut"
65) the crackling of sunlight on my wall, like a delicate white-light spiderweb, shining through the imperfections in our old window glass
66) the sweet, vibrant taste of a juiced orange
67) the health of my children
68) the iridescent bubbles clinging to my dish sink like the foam on distant shores
69) the flecks of red in the stubble on my husband's face
70) the way his arm wraps around me and holds me tight to his side
71) the strong hand that envelopes mine
72) the smell of my baby's head, there is nothing comparable
73) the big, mischievous grin on my son's face when he wants attention and knows he's going to get it
74) the news of potential financial savings on food staples
75) the hands of my daughter, clasped under her chin in prayer
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Day 2-One Day at a Time
Last night, as I thought over my day, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I felt none of the typical weariness and unease, none of the familiar frustration. It's not that there weren't plenty of those moments which regularly foster stress and discontent...it was still a gloomy day in which I cleaned up more accidents, did more dishes, dealt with a recurring headache, parented a cranky toddler, disciplined defiant children, cared for a husband who's not feeling well, refereed persistent bickering and waded through the ever-present MESS. But I actually enjoyed going through this day and purposefully picking out all the things I LIKED about it, the things I would normally take for granted. At the end of the day I felt...peaceful and content.
So, this morning, as I sat in the dark nursing the baby at an hour much earlier than I would have preferred, tired from a restless night's sleep and head still drumming with lingering aches, I asked myself, what am I thankful for about this moment?
I don't want to be so clinical about the process. It's not that I lack the personal determination. As a youngster, that was always a strong suit of mine. I have just found, over the years since becoming a wife and mother, that I often "determine" to submit things I would like to do to the priority of caring for my family. So some of those things that would have required lots of time and practice and perseverance have not yet come to be. I have not learned to crochet. I have not dug my paints out of their dusty art box. I did not refresh my memory of Russian or Sign Language. I have not become a good runner again, able to hold my own with my sisters. I have not completed the baby's handmade Christmas stocking...
If I am honest with myself, I fear if I am anything less than purposeful, this "list" will go the way of a whim as it succumbs to the busyness of my life...and to my inherently sinful and ungrateful nature. I know that if I truly want thankfulness to become habitual, I MUST be purposeful about it. I wonder if I am doing this on my strength alone, for in that I would surely fail. Is there danger of this becoming more about me than about finding daily joy in the Lord? I know my own heart too well. Can I therefore ask God to help me fulfill my duties well AND be thankful about and in them, even through the making of a simple list of blessings, NOT so that I may be gratified in my accomplishment but so that HE may be more glorified? Yes.
I sit propped up on pillows, the moonlight still peeping in from around our bedroom curtain, my husband tossing fitfully next to me, the neon numbers on the clock by my elbow slowly, slowly moving forward, my head pounding, pounding, and I stroke my sweet baby's head and snuggle him close. One day at a time. I can only take it one day at a time...
26) the little eyelids, closed in perfect contentment, as he draws out his morning milk
27) the convenience and immediacy of a medical consultation, only a phone call away
28) the scent I breathe deeply from the crook of my husband's neck as he hugs me good-bye
29) the sleepy cry my baby makes so that I know he is tired
30) the feel of warm, clean clothes on my face and arms, fresh from the dryer
31) the pleasure of making my husband a cup of hot chocolate to brighten his morning and coax his droopy eyes awake
32) the gladness that comes from offering encouragement to another and finding that it was timely
33) the white ruffles of peppermint whipped cream perched over my mug like a cloud, right before it melts into froth
34) the cool mountain air in the morning, brisk and invigorating
35) the humorous guttural hacking noise my son made when trying to "oink" like a piglet
36) the way his "moo" still sounds like "maaaaaawwwww"
37) the sound of my daughter's energetic humming of the epic Lord of the Rings' inspiring score
38) the sight of my daughter toddling around like a sumo wrestler in miniature
39) the good report of healing from the doctor
40) the subtle note of Black Cherry wafting from my fragrant tea
41) the sound of my daughter singing a hymn from Sunday's worship service
42) the steady formation of crisply-folded and neatly-ordered piles of clothes on the back of my couch
43) the soothing lilac hue of the walls in my daughters' room
44) the image in my rear-view mirror of my son folding paper into the form of an airplane and, in his little hands, taking it on a path of flight
45) the delighted giggles of my baby as he is being entertained by his older brother
46) the exuberance of my boys as they see something smashed
47) the huge grin on my daughter's face as she dances around in the little purple tutu hiked up past her waist
48) the unprompted "thank you" from my daughter's lips
49) the cheeks of my children, glowing pink, flushed with exertion and cold air and happiness
50) the Quiche, steaming and crusted over golden brown, for dinner
So, this morning, as I sat in the dark nursing the baby at an hour much earlier than I would have preferred, tired from a restless night's sleep and head still drumming with lingering aches, I asked myself, what am I thankful for about this moment?
I don't want to be so clinical about the process. It's not that I lack the personal determination. As a youngster, that was always a strong suit of mine. I have just found, over the years since becoming a wife and mother, that I often "determine" to submit things I would like to do to the priority of caring for my family. So some of those things that would have required lots of time and practice and perseverance have not yet come to be. I have not learned to crochet. I have not dug my paints out of their dusty art box. I did not refresh my memory of Russian or Sign Language. I have not become a good runner again, able to hold my own with my sisters. I have not completed the baby's handmade Christmas stocking...
If I am honest with myself, I fear if I am anything less than purposeful, this "list" will go the way of a whim as it succumbs to the busyness of my life...and to my inherently sinful and ungrateful nature. I know that if I truly want thankfulness to become habitual, I MUST be purposeful about it. I wonder if I am doing this on my strength alone, for in that I would surely fail. Is there danger of this becoming more about me than about finding daily joy in the Lord? I know my own heart too well. Can I therefore ask God to help me fulfill my duties well AND be thankful about and in them, even through the making of a simple list of blessings, NOT so that I may be gratified in my accomplishment but so that HE may be more glorified? Yes.
I sit propped up on pillows, the moonlight still peeping in from around our bedroom curtain, my husband tossing fitfully next to me, the neon numbers on the clock by my elbow slowly, slowly moving forward, my head pounding, pounding, and I stroke my sweet baby's head and snuggle him close. One day at a time. I can only take it one day at a time...
26) the little eyelids, closed in perfect contentment, as he draws out his morning milk
27) the convenience and immediacy of a medical consultation, only a phone call away
28) the scent I breathe deeply from the crook of my husband's neck as he hugs me good-bye
29) the sleepy cry my baby makes so that I know he is tired
30) the feel of warm, clean clothes on my face and arms, fresh from the dryer
31) the pleasure of making my husband a cup of hot chocolate to brighten his morning and coax his droopy eyes awake
32) the gladness that comes from offering encouragement to another and finding that it was timely
33) the white ruffles of peppermint whipped cream perched over my mug like a cloud, right before it melts into froth
34) the cool mountain air in the morning, brisk and invigorating
35) the humorous guttural hacking noise my son made when trying to "oink" like a piglet
36) the way his "moo" still sounds like "maaaaaawwwww"
37) the sound of my daughter's energetic humming of the epic Lord of the Rings' inspiring score
38) the sight of my daughter toddling around like a sumo wrestler in miniature
39) the good report of healing from the doctor
40) the subtle note of Black Cherry wafting from my fragrant tea
41) the sound of my daughter singing a hymn from Sunday's worship service
42) the steady formation of crisply-folded and neatly-ordered piles of clothes on the back of my couch
43) the soothing lilac hue of the walls in my daughters' room
44) the image in my rear-view mirror of my son folding paper into the form of an airplane and, in his little hands, taking it on a path of flight
45) the delighted giggles of my baby as he is being entertained by his older brother
46) the exuberance of my boys as they see something smashed
47) the huge grin on my daughter's face as she dances around in the little purple tutu hiked up past her waist
48) the unprompted "thank you" from my daughter's lips
49) the cheeks of my children, glowing pink, flushed with exertion and cold air and happiness
50) the Quiche, steaming and crusted over golden brown, for dinner
Monday, January 23, 2012
My List
I haven't blogged in a long time. In fact, I kind of gave up on it for a while. Admittedly, some things have changed in the months since my last post. I gave birth to our sixth child, a boy, who is now five months old. I took up drinking hot tea and love combing through the selections at the store for new and inviting flavors. Our commitments at church are increasing as we become even more involved. So, some things haven't changed. I'm busy. Always busy. I don't have time to blog. I don't really have many interesting or important things to share. Time for myself? I don't have. I don't have.
I've spent a lifetime playing that devastatingly deceptive mantra over and over in my head. I have always known it was, on the face of it, self-deprecating and superficial. What I did not think about, until recently, is the heart of it. Ingratitude.
I've been reading our latest book club selection "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. Reading is something I DO make time for, sparing though it may be and far less than what I crave. I'm not even halfway through this book, and it is in turns provoking, frustrating and illuminating. She ponders the disappointments of life and how she's dealt with it. A plain life. A life like mine. Raising children, day after day. Past hurts, losses, fears and bitterness. Present failures and lackings. Future...what? All too often characterized by ingratitude, which leads to more frustration and less peace, more disappointment and less contentment. Less joy.
Where does joy in the Lord really come from? She works through it. It's learned, Paul says. How is it learned? Thankfulness. How often am I really thankful? REALLY thankful. Intimately aware of the blessings of the Lord when it is so much easier, day in and day out, to dwell on the don't-haves. She takes up a challenge after ruminating over the Greek word "eucharisteo," which means "he gave thanks." Can she identify one thousand blessings? Actually make a list. One thousand "gifts" from the Lord. Things that she loves. Enjoys. Things that in going through the daily motions and busyness of life get blown over, dismissed. Unappreciated. Can making this list, intentionally recording the littlest of precious moments to the most wondrous, become an offering up of thanks that turns discontent into joy and, ultimately, a more trusting and humble and CLOSE walk with the Lord?
Can it? I wonder too. Can the daily and intentional offering of thanks in the simple act of making a list, a list of all the things and experiences God blesses me with, cultivate within me a new attitude regarding my life and the good AND hard things the Lord sees fit to bestow? One thousand, maybe more? I want to KNOW for myself that the Lord HAS blessed me beyond what I can even ask or imagine, I have just failed to acknowledge it, to acknowledge HIM in those things, so that in the mundane of my life and in the valleys of my life and at the end of my life, I might be found faithful...and thankful. I want to try it,to marvel at his goodness in MY life, in all things.
My own list of eucharisteo...
1) the desperate clinging of a baby who has cried for, wants and needs (miracle!) me
2) the frantic nuzzling of a famished baby
3) the smoothness of my made bed, unbroken yet welcoming, taut with invitation
4) the gentle music of the rain on my window, my house, my street
5) the fledgling expressions of my daughter
6) the son I longed to converse with, calling "Mommy, come, I'll show you..."
7) the long, lush perfectly placed eyelashes
8) the husband, sacrificing his time to bring our boys home every day
9) the vision of my one year old and three year old working together, and well, on a puzzle
10) the enveloping heat from the grate, warming me all over
11) the wood floors, cracked with age, worn with our feet and our toils and those here before us
12) the sweet, plumped, flushed cheeks of my baby boy after his tummy has been filled up
13) the ever-thickening crown of dark golden hair, uniquely placed, on his little head
14) the way my delighted daughter christens cows "Moo-Moos"
15) the little lips that oblige me when I ask for a kiss
16) the unrestrained child laughter at some secret comical thing
17) the mug of hot cocoa that warms my hands and insides with smooth rich chocolate goodness
18) the happy smile that blooms on my baby's face as the light of recognition fills his eyes
19) the buttery, earthy taste of the peanut
20) the idiosyncrasy of a dark gray-skied horizon that still streams sunlight through the tree outside my window
21) the lisped prayers of blessing at mealtime
22) the stars twinkling in the blackened expanse above
23) the satisfaction of celebrating a child's hard-earned success
24) the singing of hushed lullabies
25) the irresistibly lovely coos and giggles of a baby playing
I've spent a lifetime playing that devastatingly deceptive mantra over and over in my head. I have always known it was, on the face of it, self-deprecating and superficial. What I did not think about, until recently, is the heart of it. Ingratitude.
I've been reading our latest book club selection "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. Reading is something I DO make time for, sparing though it may be and far less than what I crave. I'm not even halfway through this book, and it is in turns provoking, frustrating and illuminating. She ponders the disappointments of life and how she's dealt with it. A plain life. A life like mine. Raising children, day after day. Past hurts, losses, fears and bitterness. Present failures and lackings. Future...what? All too often characterized by ingratitude, which leads to more frustration and less peace, more disappointment and less contentment. Less joy.
Where does joy in the Lord really come from? She works through it. It's learned, Paul says. How is it learned? Thankfulness. How often am I really thankful? REALLY thankful. Intimately aware of the blessings of the Lord when it is so much easier, day in and day out, to dwell on the don't-haves. She takes up a challenge after ruminating over the Greek word "eucharisteo," which means "he gave thanks." Can she identify one thousand blessings? Actually make a list. One thousand "gifts" from the Lord. Things that she loves. Enjoys. Things that in going through the daily motions and busyness of life get blown over, dismissed. Unappreciated. Can making this list, intentionally recording the littlest of precious moments to the most wondrous, become an offering up of thanks that turns discontent into joy and, ultimately, a more trusting and humble and CLOSE walk with the Lord?
Can it? I wonder too. Can the daily and intentional offering of thanks in the simple act of making a list, a list of all the things and experiences God blesses me with, cultivate within me a new attitude regarding my life and the good AND hard things the Lord sees fit to bestow? One thousand, maybe more? I want to KNOW for myself that the Lord HAS blessed me beyond what I can even ask or imagine, I have just failed to acknowledge it, to acknowledge HIM in those things, so that in the mundane of my life and in the valleys of my life and at the end of my life, I might be found faithful...and thankful. I want to try it,to marvel at his goodness in MY life, in all things.
My own list of eucharisteo...
1) the desperate clinging of a baby who has cried for, wants and needs (miracle!) me
2) the frantic nuzzling of a famished baby
3) the smoothness of my made bed, unbroken yet welcoming, taut with invitation
4) the gentle music of the rain on my window, my house, my street
5) the fledgling expressions of my daughter
6) the son I longed to converse with, calling "Mommy, come, I'll show you..."
7) the long, lush perfectly placed eyelashes
8) the husband, sacrificing his time to bring our boys home every day
9) the vision of my one year old and three year old working together, and well, on a puzzle
10) the enveloping heat from the grate, warming me all over
11) the wood floors, cracked with age, worn with our feet and our toils and those here before us
12) the sweet, plumped, flushed cheeks of my baby boy after his tummy has been filled up
13) the ever-thickening crown of dark golden hair, uniquely placed, on his little head
14) the way my delighted daughter christens cows "Moo-Moos"
15) the little lips that oblige me when I ask for a kiss
16) the unrestrained child laughter at some secret comical thing
17) the mug of hot cocoa that warms my hands and insides with smooth rich chocolate goodness
18) the happy smile that blooms on my baby's face as the light of recognition fills his eyes
19) the buttery, earthy taste of the peanut
20) the idiosyncrasy of a dark gray-skied horizon that still streams sunlight through the tree outside my window
21) the lisped prayers of blessing at mealtime
22) the stars twinkling in the blackened expanse above
23) the satisfaction of celebrating a child's hard-earned success
24) the singing of hushed lullabies
25) the irresistibly lovely coos and giggles of a baby playing
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)