Something blogworthy occurred to me today and, for the first time in awhile, I am trying to find the motivation to write about it. I realize that "blogworthy" is a very loose term. While one person might find a reason to blog about a flea market find or a craft project finished, I tend to desire a deeper lesson inside a regular story to make it worth the time to journal it. The whole blog world still mystifies me in some sense. I rarely have time to read blogs. However, in the rare case that I do, my expectations defy their own meeting. I want to read something that is not controversial. After all, if I wanted my mind changed, I wouldn't have my own blog. (I hope you find this as ironic as I do.) I don't read for stress. I read for stress-relief. Second, I want to read something that is not too lengthy. I could never read my own blog, for instance, because I'd be interrupted at the most interesting parts (if I thought I was interesting which, of course, I do) by someone who needs a nose (or some other part of their body) wiped, kissed, or investigated for signs of injury. Interruptions aren't so bad when I'm doing something boring, but if I'm interested in what I'm doing, interruptions are more than a little annoying and essentially unacceptable. Third, if I'm going to read a blog it needs to grab my attention... which is not all that easy to do. It can be about the mundane, as long as it's done with flare, but I prefer it to be junk food for my mind. Therefore, it must not be good or "worthy" for the most part. That's what those guilt-inducing e-mail forwards that shame me out of buying pre-bagged baby carrots or purchasing gasoline at the BP are for.
Part of my confusion about blogging is whether or not this is a permanent medium. I mean, I may have said this before, but I can't tell you how disturbing I find it that 5 generations from now a descendant of mine might lose reverence for my memory over my fear of balloons and pit toilets and the awesome dance moves I threw down to the pizza place juke box playing the music of "D. Ghetto". What confuses me even further is why anyone bothers to read what I'm writing right now. Will someone other than my mom (who might occasionally read out of obligation or fear that I might refer to my last blog in passing conversation and she have no idea what I'm talking about) actually read this? And, if so, why?
So you might wonder why I would write if I doubt the value in it and fear its possible outcomes. I do it to put some thoughts in order. I sometimes need to stand back from my life and try to objectively put my thoughts in order. For me, writing is a way to do that. I think that's probably true of many, if not most hobby bloggers.
What I actually meant to write about today was that my Austin started driving this past week. I took him to get his driver's permit on Saturday morning, and, despite being short on a bit of the "essential" paperwork (which it seems wasn't so essential after all), the kind (yes, surprising) lady behind the DMV desk gave him his test sheet - which he passed without missing any - and handed him a learner's permit. I knew he was turning cartwheels on the inside, but he didn't crack a smile until we were walking out the door. He said, "I couldn't let those people think I was a big dork." I love how teenagers think everything is embarrassing... it makes them so much more fun to embarrass. Like he'd be the first 15-year-old to crack a smile after getting his permit? Yes, those people who like to make fun of others who are enjoying momentous life milestones - they're lurking around every corner. Ah, me... to be young and self-conscious again...
I'm not sure what had come over me, but before he took the test, I handed Austin the keys and asked him if he wanted to drive home. I think I wanted him to know I believed he could ace the test, as I could tell he was nervous. He said, "No," and pushed them back at me. Again, permit in hand, he handed the keys back to me, and said he was too nervous to drive. So I drove him to lunch, and we sat and talked about "regular stuff" till he said, "Okay, I want to drive now." So we flipped roles, and I started to be the nervous one. Now, I don't know about you, but I seem to remember driving with my instructor for several hours before being given my permit. Nowadays, in Illinois, at least, you don't have to have one minute of drive time with the teacher before you receive your permit. So there we are - in the parking lot - now I'm the sweaty one. He drove us around town, to a birthday party, and back home without major incident. There were a few hairy, scary moments for this mama... especially when he decided he wanted to wait to turn left on green until he got an arrow. The plain old green light was not quite green enough for him.
On the way to town for an orthodontist visit today, an overwhelming desire pray for Austin overtook me. What for? Everything - his future job, his future wife, his safety, his welfare, his happiness... his walk. It's not that this is the first time I've ever felt the need to pray for him. What surprised me was the "why" of the desire. I'm not a good person. The good within me is not of me. It is despite me. It would be foolish for me to take credit for whatever good God inspires in me.
I've been suffering the ill effects of what appears to be a food-borne illness since I returned from what seems may have been an ill-fated trip to the Bahamas in May. These effects include but have not been limited to daily fevers, stomach upset, and headaches. While ignoring these symptoms for three months did not make them go away, letting it slip to the doctor that I had made a trip overseas did get me a one way trip to the "infectious disease specialist"... By the way, if you want to get someone to leave you alone, you might try mentioning that you have been seeing an infectious disease specialist to track down a pathogen of unknown origin that may or may not reside in, on, or around your person.
The fact that there are ugly things that reside in us all is not a surprise to any of us. We like to think that we're basically good and that we're corrupted only by our own environment. This not only lacks Scriptural basis, but is a fairly obvious untruth if you ask me. The Psalmist states clearly in Psalm 51:5 "Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, And in sin my mother conceived me." In Job 14:4, Job laments, "'Who can make the clean out of the unclean? No one!'" and again in Job 15:14, "'What is man that he should be pure, or he that is born of a woman that he should be righteous?'" In other words, if you take two sinful people and put them together, will there offspring be born sinless? Not so much.
I bought some boxing gloves at a rummage sale Saturday. There were two pair of over-sized gloves that I thought Mark and the boys would like to use when they're wrestling around in the basement. When I brought the gloves home to show my 4 year old son, he was thrilled. He was so thrilled, in fact, that his bedtime prayer consisted entirely of the words, "Dear Lord, thank you for some punching things and that mom bought us some punching things and thank you for mom and that we can punch things now with our punching things." He was also quite excited at the prospect, as he told me this morning, of punching people who "be's mean to me". After trying to recall the alien thought that overtook me the day of the imprudent purchase, I tried to explain to him that they were only for fair play with dad and Austin and anyone else who really and truly wants to be sucker punched in the gut. He seemed to comprehend. Ask me if I feel that way when I'm posting photos of an injured sister in a later blog.
Here are some of my favorite photos of the ugly things that reside in us:
And now for some of my favorite photos of GOOD things that live in us, by God's grace alone:
The thoughts that followed my urge to pray for Austin were jumbled up, but in there somewhere was a thought about the ludicrousness of the evolutionary process - in any form. "Survival of the fittest", you see, is all well and good as an explanation for the baser evil instincts of man - for mothers who leave their newborns in trash cans and such things, but it is sorely lacking in explanation for the finest acts of love and beauty... or for love or beauty or feelings at all, for that matter. Survival of the fittest doesn't account for parents who raise orphaned children as their own or for a soldier who pulls a dying brother off the battlefield. It makes no allowances for social programs or "welfare" or charity of any form at all. It bids the weak and burdened to retreat and die so that the rest of us might live better lives. It is sorely lacking to explain any emotion aside from anger or fear... particularly any positive emotions.
No, it doesn't surprise me at all that bad, ugly things live inside us all. What does amaze me is that good things do. How and why does God waste His time with what we so often see as the "lost cause" that is humanity. John 2:24-25 says, "24 But Jesus did not commit Himself to them, because He knew all men, 25 and had no need that anyone should testify of man, for He knew what was in man." Jesus, despite knowing "what was in man" decided we were worth dying for. That is the remarkable power that is at the fingertips of those who walk by His strength and through whom He lives His life. We can choose sacrificial love, by God's grace, when we don't feel it. And by this same Grace, we can choose kindness when we feel unkind, forgiveness when we're hurt, and rest when we feel anxious. I am so glad I don't have to rely on my nonexistent "goodness" to transform me. After all, I was born unrighteous and haven't become righteous by any "right doing" of my own. Jesus' sacrifice ransomed my impurity and made it purity. So, the next time you do something "right" or "good", get lost... in the wonder of how that could have possibly happened and give glory to the One who is responsible for it.
Part of my confusion about blogging is whether or not this is a permanent medium. I mean, I may have said this before, but I can't tell you how disturbing I find it that 5 generations from now a descendant of mine might lose reverence for my memory over my fear of balloons and pit toilets and the awesome dance moves I threw down to the pizza place juke box playing the music of "D. Ghetto". What confuses me even further is why anyone bothers to read what I'm writing right now. Will someone other than my mom (who might occasionally read out of obligation or fear that I might refer to my last blog in passing conversation and she have no idea what I'm talking about) actually read this? And, if so, why?
So you might wonder why I would write if I doubt the value in it and fear its possible outcomes. I do it to put some thoughts in order. I sometimes need to stand back from my life and try to objectively put my thoughts in order. For me, writing is a way to do that. I think that's probably true of many, if not most hobby bloggers.
What I actually meant to write about today was that my Austin started driving this past week. I took him to get his driver's permit on Saturday morning, and, despite being short on a bit of the "essential" paperwork (which it seems wasn't so essential after all), the kind (yes, surprising) lady behind the DMV desk gave him his test sheet - which he passed without missing any - and handed him a learner's permit. I knew he was turning cartwheels on the inside, but he didn't crack a smile until we were walking out the door. He said, "I couldn't let those people think I was a big dork." I love how teenagers think everything is embarrassing... it makes them so much more fun to embarrass. Like he'd be the first 15-year-old to crack a smile after getting his permit? Yes, those people who like to make fun of others who are enjoying momentous life milestones - they're lurking around every corner. Ah, me... to be young and self-conscious again...
I'm not sure what had come over me, but before he took the test, I handed Austin the keys and asked him if he wanted to drive home. I think I wanted him to know I believed he could ace the test, as I could tell he was nervous. He said, "No," and pushed them back at me. Again, permit in hand, he handed the keys back to me, and said he was too nervous to drive. So I drove him to lunch, and we sat and talked about "regular stuff" till he said, "Okay, I want to drive now." So we flipped roles, and I started to be the nervous one. Now, I don't know about you, but I seem to remember driving with my instructor for several hours before being given my permit. Nowadays, in Illinois, at least, you don't have to have one minute of drive time with the teacher before you receive your permit. So there we are - in the parking lot - now I'm the sweaty one. He drove us around town, to a birthday party, and back home without major incident. There were a few hairy, scary moments for this mama... especially when he decided he wanted to wait to turn left on green until he got an arrow. The plain old green light was not quite green enough for him.
On the way to town for an orthodontist visit today, an overwhelming desire pray for Austin overtook me. What for? Everything - his future job, his future wife, his safety, his welfare, his happiness... his walk. It's not that this is the first time I've ever felt the need to pray for him. What surprised me was the "why" of the desire. I'm not a good person. The good within me is not of me. It is despite me. It would be foolish for me to take credit for whatever good God inspires in me.
I've been suffering the ill effects of what appears to be a food-borne illness since I returned from what seems may have been an ill-fated trip to the Bahamas in May. These effects include but have not been limited to daily fevers, stomach upset, and headaches. While ignoring these symptoms for three months did not make them go away, letting it slip to the doctor that I had made a trip overseas did get me a one way trip to the "infectious disease specialist"... By the way, if you want to get someone to leave you alone, you might try mentioning that you have been seeing an infectious disease specialist to track down a pathogen of unknown origin that may or may not reside in, on, or around your person.
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| A sun-toasted, smiling, Bahaman me... pathogen unawares. |
The fact that there are ugly things that reside in us all is not a surprise to any of us. We like to think that we're basically good and that we're corrupted only by our own environment. This not only lacks Scriptural basis, but is a fairly obvious untruth if you ask me. The Psalmist states clearly in Psalm 51:5 "Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, And in sin my mother conceived me." In Job 14:4, Job laments, "'Who can make the clean out of the unclean? No one!'" and again in Job 15:14, "'What is man that he should be pure, or he that is born of a woman that he should be righteous?'" In other words, if you take two sinful people and put them together, will there offspring be born sinless? Not so much.
I bought some boxing gloves at a rummage sale Saturday. There were two pair of over-sized gloves that I thought Mark and the boys would like to use when they're wrestling around in the basement. When I brought the gloves home to show my 4 year old son, he was thrilled. He was so thrilled, in fact, that his bedtime prayer consisted entirely of the words, "Dear Lord, thank you for some punching things and that mom bought us some punching things and thank you for mom and that we can punch things now with our punching things." He was also quite excited at the prospect, as he told me this morning, of punching people who "be's mean to me". After trying to recall the alien thought that overtook me the day of the imprudent purchase, I tried to explain to him that they were only for fair play with dad and Austin and anyone else who really and truly wants to be sucker punched in the gut. He seemed to comprehend. Ask me if I feel that way when I'm posting photos of an injured sister in a later blog.
Here are some of my favorite photos of the ugly things that reside in us:
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| Levi - obviously peeved at other people having "FUN" |
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| Claire's artist rendering of a one-sided snowball fight |
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| I took this photo of a woman left askew on a Goldwing outside Menard's in the misty rain. What's ugly, you ask? The man who left her out there while he went in for "just a second". |
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| Yes, even chewing with your mouth open... is ugly. |
And now for some of my favorite photos of GOOD things that live in us, by God's grace alone:
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| Fresh Starts |
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| Levi sharing his water with Violet |
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| brotherly love |
No, it doesn't surprise me at all that bad, ugly things live inside us all. What does amaze me is that good things do. How and why does God waste His time with what we so often see as the "lost cause" that is humanity. John 2:24-25 says, "24 But Jesus did not commit Himself to them, because He knew all men, 25 and had no need that anyone should testify of man, for He knew what was in man." Jesus, despite knowing "what was in man" decided we were worth dying for. That is the remarkable power that is at the fingertips of those who walk by His strength and through whom He lives His life. We can choose sacrificial love, by God's grace, when we don't feel it. And by this same Grace, we can choose kindness when we feel unkind, forgiveness when we're hurt, and rest when we feel anxious. I am so glad I don't have to rely on my nonexistent "goodness" to transform me. After all, I was born unrighteous and haven't become righteous by any "right doing" of my own. Jesus' sacrifice ransomed my impurity and made it purity. So, the next time you do something "right" or "good", get lost... in the wonder of how that could have possibly happened and give glory to the One who is responsible for it.
