The Mother of Invention

For those of you who have read my blog before, it might not surprise you to know that, as a mom, I'm pretty much a goof ball.  It should not come as a surprise to you (as it would not to my children), if you were to see me dancing down supermarket aisles or hear me talking in a thick foreign accent of questionable origin.


About a month ago, we were at a pizza parlor that had gotten one of these fancy, new, electronic-type jukeboxes.  It could instantly access nearly any song by nearly any artist.  It had touch-screen operation at toddler level, and Levi was... well, he was like a kid in a pizza parlor with a jukebox.  After a while, the kids convinced me to put a dollar in the jukebox.  This gave us 3 credits, which we assumed was three songs.  However, we found out later that most songs were 2 credits.  In fact, it appeared to us that every song was 2 credits.  This wasn't entirely true though, and I'll tell you how we found out that there were, indeed, one credit songs.  After we listened to Run by George Strait, we were trying to decide whether or not to get 5 ones for one 5 so that we could get another 2, 2 credit songs when we heard techno music begin to emanate from the jukebox.  We looked over to see that Levi had managed to touch-screen his way to perhaps the only one-credit song on the jukebox... Sexy Chick by an artist named "D. Ghetto".  Imagine the surprise on our faces as the lyrics, "I'm tryna find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful..." reverberated from the box with almost deafening pitch.  (As if those lyrics, in and of themselves, aren't oddly disrespectful.)  These lyrics were then followed by the chorus that consisted entirely of 6 words repeated ad nauseum, and I am loath to repeat them.  However, in order for you to get the full picture of this Christian family of seven (two of whom are toddlers) sitting in a local pizza dive listening to Sexy Chick, you must know that the words to the chorus were several variations of the 6 words, "da** girl you's a sexy chick".  When the chorus started, my husband looked at me, and we tried not to roar with laughter.  The ridiculousness of yet another blog-worthy situation did not escape me - or as D. Ghetto might say, "exscape me".  (By the way, he's a white guy with blonde hair named Dave Guetta who looks, frankly, a little like Keith Urban to me.)


Well, you can't keep my kids from dancing - no matter how tacky the song.  They have their mother's "west-end rhythm" as my mother always called it.  Mark was leaning over the table talking to one of the kids, and I was behind him - enjoying the kids dancing and ardently hoping they weren't listening too closely to the lyrics, as I could picture the moment the phrase "you's a sexy chick" might make its appearance in the 2's and 3's Sunday School class.  This is when I couldn't hold it anymore - I had to get down with my bad self.  Consequently, in the tackiest club groove I could muster, I did just that.  I danced... boy, did I dance.  I did so in complete silence, so that Mark wouldn't turn around and mess up my groove.  The kids were watching me in stunned silence, as were (I found as I turned around) the waitress and three cooks... who were the only other humanoids present at that juncture.  I watched myself in the mirrored wall, and I hate to brag, but I think I did mothers of 5 everywhere a little justice that night.  When the kids told Mark to turn around, I stopped immediately.  He asked what was up, and I showed him my best moves, and he said slowly, "You did that in front of people?"  I said, "Yeah, why?"  Then he laughed nearly uncontrollably.  I wasn't sure if I should be flattered or insulted.  However, I know one thing, I was glad I had joined my kids in a few moments of uninhibited F-U-N!


I guess there are indeed one-credit songs - or at least one.  I guess you can't charge 2 credits for a 6 word chorus - one of which is a swear word, and after studying contractions with the girls for several weeks, I'm pretty sure that "you's" does not count as an actual word.  As a side note, I can't imagine the woman who is flattered by this utterance.  This took me back to a few weekends ago.  I attended an event with my husband at a nice restaurant.  The D.J. approached me and asked if he knew me.  I said, "I'm not sure."  He then sat down across from me, completely ignoring the presence of my hulking husband, and began to grill me about my whereabouts for the past 15 years - trying to guess how he knew me.  The Pièce de résistance of this man's repertoire came when he asked me if I "hung out in the bars" in Oregon.  I replied, "no", and then he asked how old I was.  When I replied that I was 32, he said, "Oh, I thought you were younger than that." (As if I'm OLD now?  He was at least in his mid-40's.)  Men?  Clueless?  Nah... the only thing that made it more amusing was when I turned to my husband after the D.J. left to see smoke coming out of his ears.  He later told our son about this guy's lame pick-up lines and said that he was about to pound the guy's face, which made me feel all the more flattered until my husband said, "Yeah, but then I noticed that he was hitting on all the girls the same way."  Aw, honey... I feel so special.  Anyway, again this left me wondering what manner of woman would find the bars question and a virtual age slam attractive.


Today, I took my girls to my rheumatologist appointment with me... partially because I enjoy their company, and partially because I'm not sure whether or not he's a little creepy.  He complimented me on a 14 pound weight loss, which I couldn't help but be proud of, showing off my muscles to the girls as he turned his back to us.  As they grinned at me, a thought occurred to me  - a thought that scared the daylights out of me, for some reason - "I'm the only mother that God gave them."  The reason it scared me was that, and I can't believe it never occurred to me before, I am the female role-model for my daughters... the person whom they are most likely to emulate.  I am IT for them... for lack of a better word.  I can't live only like I want to live, but I have to live how I want them to live.  For instance, I value a sense of humor intensely.  I feel this way, because I think it helps a person to deal with life's ups and downs... especially the downs... easier.  In fact, if on our first date my husband hadn't blurted, "We don't like those guys in Iowa.  We beat 'em up and throw their skates in the crick," (referring to men who roller skate semi-professionally), we likely wouldn't be married today.  I want my girls to laugh and to make others laugh.  However, like most fun-loving people, I have a tendency not to consider all the feelings involved before I blurt a punch line.  That is overt selfishness on the part of the chronically silly... I'll take the risk of hurting others if it'll make people laugh.  If it's possible to have an epiphany of all the things I want to be and don't want to be for the benefit of my progeny in .2 second, I had it.


My husband marvels at the capacity of my mind to be in 10 different places at once... I am If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.  In fact, Sunday morning in the car, I brought up a friend's ailing grandmother, another friend I was having dinner with that night, cabinet latches I had ordered, and about 5 other totally unrelated (in his mind) things during a 10 minute car trip.  He finally said, "I'm having a tough time following you.  How do any of these things match up?"  I said, "What things?"  He then proceeded to list back to me all the things I had talked about in the last 10 minutes.  I was astounded... for one thing, that he had been listening, two, that he could remember what I had said, and three, that I had said all those things aloud.  I said, "Well, they were all connected in my mind somehow."  Austin mumbled from the back seat, "Men are waffles, and women are spaghetti."  (I got him that book for Christmas 2 years ago, and he read it cover to cover.  Now he's a virtual relationship therapist.)


This blog is full of bunny trails that I'm honestly having difficulty pulling together.  In conclusion, as I looked at my mother's nose, my sister's nose, and thought of my nose the other night, I noticed they are all three virtually the same... as are my children's noses.  I glanced at my mother's mom and dad and noticed that neither of them had the same distinctive pug nose we had.  I asked my mom, "So where'd our noses come from?"  After thinking about the question (wondering why I asked), she responded, "Great Granny.  It's her nose."  Of all people... great grandma's nose.  How did her nose skip a generation and then proliferate throughout almost a dozen grandchildren and great grandchildren?  Whose nose was it before it was hers?  The point?  What traits of mine will show up in the next generation... or 3 generations from now?  What trait of mine will proliferate in a seemingly random way?  Will it be something I will be honored to see?  A life lived for Christ?  A compassionate spirit?  A passionate heart?  I hope they have a sense of humor, but I would be deeply saddened if that's all they got from me.  


A dear friend of mine lost her grandfather a few months ago and lost her 95-year-old grandmother today.  As I reflect on the sadness of these events, I am met with one happiness... that her grandparents left a legacy of love of God, love of family, and deep and lasting commitment to both.  Without these, they would be entering a time of despair with barely anyone beside them.  As it is, however, they have God, and they have one another... all to lean on in difficult times.  


I need to be more purposefully discipling my girls into relationship with the Giver of a life worth living.  He not only formed me with His hands, He breathes life into my lungs and makes my heart beat for Him.  He is inventing me, and I need not hide it behind whit and humor.

Snot Fair

As a mother of 5, there is hardly a day that goes by without at least one of my children adding a new word or phrase to his or her vocabulary.  Sometimes these words are good words - words like "apple" or "puppy".  Sometimes they're not such good words - words like "poop" or "idiot".  Levi, who is about to turn 4, happens to be learning the most distressing words and phrases.  Some of these are undeniably ones that he's heard me utter.  Other ones I honestly have no idea from whence they came.  I often hear him mutter words like "poop" at the dinner table and say, "We don't say those words at the dinner table."  He replies, "So can I say 'poop' in the living room after supper?"  The truth is, I'd rather he didn't say those words either place, but if he has to say them one place or the other, the living room is preferable.  I guess I could just tell him that those are bathroom words - if anything.  A few months back, he liked to say things like "stupid" and "idiot".  We told him that it hurts God's heart when we say those words.  He whispered, "Well, God can't hear them if we're in our room and we whisper them like this."  I guess that explained all the time he'd been spending in his room by himself... quietly.  This was also during the phase when I found in him the bathroom talking to himself in the mirror.  He looked confidently at his reflection and said, "I'm a BIG boy!  I don't say, 'stupid'.  I don't say, 'shut up', and I never point at people... like this," (as he pointed directly at me).  Somehow toddler hypocrisy is funnier than adult hypocrisy.

(Levi - being Levi)

This past week, Levi has discovered a new phrase - one I am positive he didn't learn from me.  "Snot fair" has been a regular lately.  It applies nicely to virtually any toddler situation - from when he doesn't get to watch a favorite movie, to when he gets put into the timeout chair for hitting his sister, to when he doesn't get enough jelly on his PB&J.  Today we ate dinner at Fiesta Cancun.  The waiter only put in an order for one cheeseburger plate when we had ordered two.  The waiter gave the plate to Violet, and Levi ended up sharing Violet's for a while until they brought Levi his.  "Snot fair" made it into that conversation too.  The vocabulary geek in me is happy that he uses this phrase in context, while the mother in me is annoyed at the sound of, what we refer to in our household as "sass".


Now I said before that I know he didn't get "snot fair" from me, but that's only because I don't say that things aren't fair.  That being said, it's not because I don't think sometimes that certain things aren't fair.  In fact, I see a lot of things that make me want to say, "snot fair".  This thinking sometimes originates from seeing something that is hurtful to a person I love.  As I've said before, I am generally in favor of vigilante justice, and I have been the deliverer of such on more than one occasion - mostly in my younger years.  I have a tendency to want to right perceived wrongs and straighten out contradictions.  No doubt it is prideful of me to think that I have the right answers to the problems I perceive.  


Contentedness and vulnerability are themes that have been running simultaneously through my life lately.  Our family has been experiencing a lot of changes, and a lot of those changes require more work from me.  In the midst of a busy life, I can find myself being discontented with everything from my marriage, to my family, to my job, to my possessions, to whatever else I don't have - or the things I do have and don't like - or the things I do have and wish I didn't have...  My husband has been going through a lot of spiritual and emotional awakenings that I've been hoping and praying about for him for so long that I wasn't even sure it was any use to pray for them anymore.  These changes are coming fast and furious.  He's becoming a different - even more amazing - man.  So that's good, right?  GREAT even, but even in the midst of that, I find myself desirous of different timing or process.  We are finding an openness and vulnerability that is more intense than I even knew was possible with another human being.  However, I find myself hesitant to embrace it, because it seems there is no such thing as complete vulnerability with another person without some level of pain attached to it.


Tonight we were reading Dr. Seuss's Yertle the Turtle and Other Stories before bed.  There is a story in the book called, Gertrude McFuzz.  Now Gertrude McFuzz is a bird who has one plain tail feather on her rear end.  However, Gertrude "knows of" this other "fancy young girl-bird named Lolla-Lee-Lou" who has two, nice, colorful tail feathers.  This makes Gertrude so discontented that she must have two feathers also.  She goes to see her "uncle doctor" who sends her to a "pillberry vine" that helps her to grow new tail feathers.   With each (awful tasting) pill she pecks off the vine, she grows a new tail feather.  Gertrude starts off by making her tail feather exactly like Lolla-Lee-Lou's, but then decides that she should make hers more striking still.  So she pecks off pills, tail feathers shooting out everywhere "gleaming like diamonds and gumdrops and gold" until she has a huge, fancy tail made of dozens of feathers that she hopes will make Lolla "scream" and "fall right down dead".  The caveat is that Gertrude McFuzz's new fabulous tail is so heavy that she can't fly over to show anyone.  Not only can't she fly, but she can't run or even walk.  So she has to get carried by several friends back to her home where she has to have the feathers painfully plucked until she's left with just that one she had to start.


I guess the bottom line with contentedness is that - when I don't have it, I'm not trusting God that what He is giving me at this point in my life is what I need mostly because it's not what I want.  Often in my parenting I give my children what they need although it's most certainly not what they want.  I am more likely to give myself, however, the things that I want instead of those things that I need.  What I am giving my children is genuine love - love that looks out for their best interest and their long-term happiness.  What I give myself, in contrast, is short-term happiness and followed by long-term misery.  I have to trust God that He is like parent-me, not self-absorbed me - or better yet, not like me at all.  He gives me what I need, even if it's not what I want.  His desire is my holiness not merely my happiness.  My happiness achieves nothing in me.  Holiness, however, achieves all sorts of things - from perseverance and endurance, to patience, to peace, to trust and faith, to compassion for others, to everlasting life.


I receive daily e-mail readings from www.ransomedheart.com .  Yesterday, the reading was about being content.  The author said that women need to have satisfying relationships with others - specifically other women.  However, the author was quick to point out that, in our fallen state, we feel this need for others to fulfill us - to fill us up - to make us whole.  We desire others to "come through" for us.  If they don't we often try to force them to do this.  Other people were never meant to meet this need for us, and they can't and won't.  This leaves us, in the end, alone, broken, and more desperate than ever for fulfillment.  The only way we can have healthy, vulnerable, contented relationships with others is by getting our fulfillment from our Maker.  He made us, knows who we are, gave us our identity in the first place, and He's the only one capable of filling our emptiness and making it abundance.  When we live a life overflowing and fulfilled, we are able to give to others from our bounty instead of trying to give them water from an "empty well". 


God has given women some things what would seem to invoke the phrase, "snot fair".  We are generally physically weaker than men.  We are more physically vulnerable.  We have menstrual cycles, menopause, and child bearing to endure.  However, we have been given a unique ability to give life to other human beings.  Our bodies are built for bearing and imparting life.  Our tendency from the youngest age to the way we carry our books in high school show that we were made for this purpose.  However, we often think our ability to give life stops at they physical.  God didn't stop there... everything special about me from my appearance, to my words, to my touch has the ability to impart life.  Too often, I don't use that gift.  In fact, the ugliest portraits of women are the ones who suck the life out of those around them... from Medusa, who turns mortals to stone with a glance, to Delilah, who uses her beauty to take away a man's strength and his very life.  We don't often see the strength in our softness.  The ability we have to give life to those around us - no matter whether we will ever physically become a mother - is God given.  Our temptation, however, is to do the opposite - to say words that cut like a knife... to disrespect, to maim, to embitter - or to ignore.  In so doing, we unwittingly abandon the possibility of receiving that which we most desire - vulnerability - the opportunity to be fully known and to fully know.  We cause our loved ones to build up defenses against us and for good reason.


In front of the mirror last night, it occurred to me that, in the garden of Eden, the serpent convinced Eve she did not have.  She didn't have God's benevolence (And he said to the woman, “Has God indeed said, ‘You shall not eat of every tree of the garden’?”).  She didn't have God's honesty.  She didn't have God's best.  She considered it, believed it, and changed history with one decision.  The irony is that she had all of those things... and more than she could have ever imagined until after she had already lost it.  God had never created another being in His own image.  She had the privilege of being the most beautiful of all creation.  She had effortless comfort and lavish, loving relationships with her husband and her Creator.  She had equality with Adam.  She had everything we modern women strive after.  As I searched the mirror, I longed for something I felt I had lost.  I was Gertrude McFuzz, and my spirit was shouting, "Snot FAIR!"  But a Still Small Voice graciously reminded me, "You already have it."  


Whatever you're longing for today, you already have it.  Ephesians 2:4-7 says, " ⁴ But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, ⁵ made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. ⁶ And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, ⁷ in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus."  2 Peter 1:3b-4a says, " as His divine power has given to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of Him who called us by glory and virtue, ⁴ by which have been given to us exceedingly great and precious promises, that through these you may be partakers of the divine nature..." In case you missed that, if you are in Christ, you have EVERYTHING you need for life and godliness.  Don't let yourself be convinced of nonexistent lack that leads to an all-consuming covetousness.  In this life, you may obtain things that are not God's best for you, but you will never be without those things He has decided are best for you.

The Blame Game

About 6 weeks ago, I started to take supper to my shut-ins a few times a week.  Sometimes, the kids like to accompany me to get out of being "shut-in" themselves.  (This winter weather is driving us all to the brink of madness.)  Yesterday, as Levi and I were driving to drop off a meal to my "sick people" as Levi calls them, the front passenger tire of our van got pulled into one of the many ruts on our soft, country road.  It pulled the whole van to the right, and Levi was uneasy about it.  He said, "Mom, you're driving crazy."
I said, "Sorry, buddy, but the road is kind of soft."  He replied, "It's okay.  It's probably just the van's fault."
I guess you know you're blood-relatives when a person is willing to blame an inanimate object for you.

As a divorced person married to a divorced person, my life has been filled with a veritable plethora of awkward circumstances.  From hosting my husband's ex-wife in our last home and in our current home, to inadvertently washing her underwear... yes, I said, "washing her underwear", to coping with children's programs with my ex-husband and his wife, to hosting my ex-husband's wife's parents at our home last week and introducing them to my other children as Sadie's and Claire's "grandma and grandpa".  I say that I cope with all these things, only because my husband doesn't seem to mind a whole lot of these inconvenient goings on.  That is to say, until his ex-wife's last visit ended in her walking unannounced into our bedroom and seeing him sitting on my adorable, white, cushioned, Victorian, vanity bench lifting my 5 pound dumbbells.  I missed it, and when I say, "I missed it," I mean I really would have liked to have witnessed that.  I'm sure it was precious.

Not to diminish Mark's hospitality in bizarre situations...  He is way better than I am.  He doesn't get annoyed, flustered, or exasperated like I do.  It's moments like these when I feel sorry for myself and find myself wanting someone to blame for my circumstances.  Isn't it someone else's fault that I have to continue to graciously endure the people who have been the cause of much of the pain in our lives?  I mean, we obviously have a choice as to whether or not to let these people invite themselves into our home.  It's probably not even good "boundary setting" to let them into our family home.  We certainly don't allow it for their sakes.  We do it for our children - who are much better at unconditional love than we could ever be, and what's important to them is important to us.

Blame shifting comes naturally to humans.  Shifting responsibility to another person (or even an animal or inanimate object) seems like second nature when we face consequences that are even just the least bit unpleasant.  And why not?  We've been doing it since Genesis 3:11.


"Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?"
 ¹²The man said, "The woman whom You gave to be with me, she gave me from the tree, and I ate."
 ¹³Then the LORD God said to the woman, "What is this you have done?" And the woman said, "The serpent deceived me, and I ate."

I don't know about you, but I see three shifts of blame in Genesis 3:11-13.  The first two are from Adam to "the woman You gave to be with me."  In other words, it was God's fault for giving Adam "this woman," and/or Eve's fault for giving him the fruit.  The third blame shift is in verse 13 when Eve says, "The serpent deceived me, and I ate."  Adam and Eve covered the aggregate of human propensity to blame.  First, it was another person's fault - Eve's.  Then very quickly, in the same sentence even, it was God's fault.  Third, it was the serpent or devil's fault.  She made me do it.  God made me do it.  The devil made me do it.  The people He had created for fellowship - companionship even - abandoned Him: left Him alone, holding the bag (blame).

God saw our very first sin - not trusting that He had our best interest at heart and thereafter choosing a way we thought was better.  Even worse, we were not willing to even acknowledge what we had done to Him.  To our amazement, His redemption of us flies in the face of the justice we deserved.  By glorious contrast to our blame-shifting human nature, Jesus came for the sole purpose of taking our blame on Himself and not just our blame, but our punishment for that blame.  Isaiah 53:3-5 tells of this work:

³ He was despised and rejected by men,
      A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.
      And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him;
      He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.
       ⁴ Surely He has borne our griefs
      And carried our sorrows;
      Yet we esteemed Him stricken,
      Smitten by God, and afflicted.
       ⁵ But He was wounded for our transgressions,
      He was bruised for our iniquities;
      The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
      And by His stripes we are healed. 

We hid... our faces from Him in the Garden of Eden.  We abandoned Him in our selfish desires.  Matthew 26:40-45 details the disciples falling asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane before Jesus died.  He asked them to stay awake and pray.  He was experiencing those very human emotions of sorrow and fear, but they were tired.  Matthew 26:55b says simply, "Then all the disciples forsook Him and fled." Again in Matthew 26:69-74, Peter denied even knowing Jesus - not once, but three times.  At a time when Jesus was counting on their companionship, humanity again left Him alone - holding the bag.  We hid... our faces from Him in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Not only did we not recognize His heart beating for (toward) us, we didn't care... even when it stopped beating for (in order to save) us.

How many times are our eyes to heavy to companion our Lord?  How often are our feet too quick to abandon Him in front of others?  Why do we still hide our faces from Him?  Jesus died to purchase the right for us to look God in His glorious face again.  He bought back the opportunity for us to be His companions.  It was so costly.  He took my blame so that I don't have to shift blame - not to favorite television shows, nor to sleepy eyes, nor to busy days.  The ultimate irony is a thing of beauty.

To Know Me Is to Love Me?

I had my first kiss today. It was kind of unexpected, but I think that made it more special. I've been seeing him for a couple months now, and I finally got up the courage to hug him today. He was adorable, and he must have decided to kiss me on a whim because, with tears in his eyes, he hugged me back and kissed me - right on the cheek. I have to admit I glowed for a few minutes after. Maybe you're starting to wonder (especially since I have a husband and five children) if they have possibly finally driven me to the brink of insanity. It was my first Hospice kiss. He's 92, and I'm 32, and I'm pretty sure that the age difference is totally appropriate in this situation and didn't matter a bit to either of us. It's strange how unsure I feel of myself in new situations. I spend my life in a daily grind. Not that it never offers variety or a different set of challenges, but it rarely offers the opportunity to doubt myself. Hospice, on the other hand, has already put me in situations with many different types of people with whom I had relatively little in common. I've had to figure out how to get to know them, relate to them, help them, and even love them... but not too much.

Getting to know people is a tricky business. It's a necessity that many of us find easier to avoid. The farther along we get into technology, the more likely some of us are to retreat into a faceless void. Relationships often begin with this shiny facade called the "first impression". From that point, we try our best to keep up this facade. However, the farther we get into actually knowing others, the harder it is to keep a relationship neat and tidy. The more work a relationship takes, the less likely we are to try to maintain it... especially if we already have one or more satisfactory relationships with other people.

In a family, you can't help but get to know people down deep. I know my kids... good, bad, and ugly, and they know me the same way. Even the things I think I can hide from them, maybe even especially those things, are the things they seem to detect easily. The older three like to catch me in error. I am famous for a few things in our house. One of them is that I often absentmindedly answer questions to which I didn't listen, call the children by a sibling's (or pet's) name, and mix words together when I talk. Writing is a better medium for me. I have time to think through what I say. Maybe that's why I like it so much. My kids, like me, have a critical eye... which pays me back for my own. For example, a few weeks ago, Austin noticed that a new power line had been placed across the river on the way to my mom's house. As he mentioned it, I meant to say either, "I knew they had been working on it," or "I noticed they had been working on it." What I actually said was, "I knew-ticed they had been working on it." Well, when you make up a hybrid word like "knew-ticed", your 8th grade son is the first to start giggling (because it bears an uncanny resemblance to the word "nudist"). I've learned that there is no way to gloss over it, pretend it didn't happen, or try to keep from a full acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of what I had just said. We just laughed and joked about it, and he asked me not to say it in front of his friends.... which made me laugh harder that he thought I would want to say that in front of his friends... and as I tried to picture a context in which I would possibly start blurting things turrets-style in front of his friends.

Speaking of teenaged embarrassment... it seems to know no end. As my younger 4 children sang in front of the church on Sunday with a group of other small children, Levi, our 3 year old, became so excited to be up in front of a crowd with the whole church's attention, he had to use the opportunity to blurt. He blurted uncontrollable, unintelligible gibberish between the second and third song to a point that it became impossible to get the other children and the audience to stop laughing at him long enough to get him to stop blurting so that they could start the last song. After they finally ended the last song, Levi ran down the center aisle(gushing loudly more gibberish), realized we were seated on the side aisle, turned around, ran back up the center aisle, across the front of the church, and back down the side aisle to our seat - to the resounding chuckle of half the church. Austin was completely mortified and kept his head down repeating, "I'm not related to that kid in any way." He can't keep from knowing his brother, as much as he sometimes wishes he could.

All this talk about being associated with or not associated with (knowing or not knowing) certain people makes me think about a passage of the Bible that sometimes perplexes me.

In Matthew 7:21-23, Jesus says, ²¹"Not everyone who says to Me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father who is in heaven will enter. ²²"Many will say to Me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?' ²³"And then I will declare to them, 'I never knew you; DEPART FROM ME, YOU WHO PRACTICE LAWLESSNESS.'"

In this passage Jesus tells us that, in the end, not everyone who thinks they know Him will enter the kingdom of heaven. In fact, people who have "prophesied, cast out demons, and performed miracles", all in the name of Jesus, are told by Him that He never even knew them.

The obvious question for me has always been, "God knows each of us intimately - completely (Psalm 44:21, Jeremiah 17:10, Psalm 139:1-4, 2 Kings 19:27, Job 11:11). He created us, after all, so what does Jesus mean by, "I never knew you..."? How can He know us and yet not know us?

Last week, I ended up reading in 1 Corinthians 8. "1a "...we know that we all have knowledge. Knowledge makes arrogant, but love edifies. ²If anyone supposes that he knows anything, he has not yet known as he ought to know; ³but if anyone loves God, he is known by Him." In context, Paul is talking to the Corinthians about an argument they were having with one another over whether or not to eat meat sacrificed to idols. Some were saying it was fine, and others were saying it was wrong. Paul started out by saying that the most important thing was whether or not they considered themselves as more knowledgeable than those with whom they were arguing. Obviously, there was some pride going on, and he was trying to let them know that, more important than the physical issue of eating or not eating meat sacrificed to idols, was the issue of building one another up by loving each other instead of trying to use intellect as a weapon against another Christian. They were using worldly "knowledge", in arrogance, to act superior. Paul goes on to say in verse 2 that even the fact that a person thinks he has knowledge is the first sign that he doesn't know enough to know that he doesn't know anything. The best part about this passage for me was verse 3. Paul states very simply, "But if anyone loves God, he is known by Him."

I found this to answer the question I had about Jesus sending away the "Christians" in Matthew 7:23. If we love God, then we are known by Him. I might define love as a choice to act in the best interest of another without regard to self, but it's not just that simple. You could do those things without truly knowing another's heart. Love also involves sitting quietly, communing wholly, and imbibing deeply of another. It assigns intrinsic and undeniable worth to another. Luke 10:38-42 describes two sisters - one who was doing for Jesus and one who was drinking in Jesus. Jesus told them that he preferred the actions of the latter. Ideally, acting in love toward God proceeds from a trust/belief that God's Word is true in that He "first loved us" (1 John 4:19). "Doing for" doesn't always equate to loving. Sometimes it just equates to trying to earn love... which, in the end, isn't loving the other person at all. Instead, it equates to loving self enough to try to gain the love that self wants and "deserves". "Drinking in", on the other hand, is an unselfish interest in knowing another person deeply. I think that both doing for and drinking in are essential parts of knowing and loving. In human terms, knowing someone completely can be scary. In my experience, finding out too much about a person many times makes that person less desirable, less lovable. That's where the phrase, "too much information" originated - in the thought that if I know too much about you, it will disgust me. I imagine if I knew every, little thought and detail about those around me and they knew the same about me, we would not be capable of loving one another at all. 1 Corinthians 8:3 makes it clear that God knows those who love Him. He chooses to know me and love me despite knowing all of me - good, bad, and ugly. A sweeter, more pure, more desirable love, we could not possibly know.

Passport to Humility

Several weeks ago, a friend and I went to apply for our passports. One of the steps in that process was to get the dreaded "passport photo". After reading the extensive specifications for the passport photo -

• In color
• 2 x 2 inches in size
• Printed on thin, photo-quality paper
• Taken within the past 6 months, showing current appearance
• Full face, front view with a plain white or off-white background
• Between 1 inch and 1 3/8 inches from the bottom of the chin to the top of the head
• Taken in normal street attire:

I realized that this was going to be a process a bit too involved for me to complete myself. Part of the reason is that, once a woman bears children, no one ever takes her photo anymore. Unless she hires a photographer to take a (usually dreaded) family photo or a photo of her and her child(ren) it's as if she no longer exists. The family photo album has no record of this woman everyone just knew as "mom". This is partly because mom sometimes dodges the camera, because she is in her bathrobe or her roots are gray - again or even because she has gained 10 pounds since the last photo she saw of herself... the one of the side of her head - taken "accidentally" by a friend at a birthday party. This despised photo revealed a double chin, sagging shoulder line, belly overhanging the waist of her jeans, and was undoubtedly of her "bad side". It'll probably end up on facebook when someone figures out how to use his or her new scanner "for evil"... at which point she'll have to decide whether or not to untag herself or just face facts. But I digress...

My friend and I decided to go to Walgreens to have the photo taken. We took turns - trying not to feel self-conscious. It felt much akin to when you're at the DMV, and the friendly employee (who hates her job so much she's spent the last 20 years doing it) takes your photo. It's like every eye is on you - at this horrible moment when you have to decide whether or not to smile, because every conscientious cashier and ambitious state trooper you come across in the next 4 years is going to be looking at it and you and it again. Which me do I want them to see? No nonsense? Serious and responsible? Friendly and happy? Innocent? Clueless? They never seem to question whether or not that photo is me, but whenever I glance at it (sidelong), I question whether or not it is me.

Back to Walgreens - when the moment of truth came - the printing of the photos - my friend held her photo up to me, looked at me with dismay, and stated the question that was also on my own mind with regard to my photo. "Do I really look like this?" I didn't say much, as she looked at mine and said, "That looks exactly like you, but do I really look like this?" Well, she had answered my question... stab, stab. Then she answered her own with a deep sigh, "Well, I guess I must."

It reminded me of some of some of the other times when my pride has been wounded - even broken. Some people are conceited. Other people are plagued with "low self-esteem", but I imagine it is two sides of the same coin. After all, if I don't think - somewhere down deep - that I deserve to esteem myself highly ("I am pretty great, why don't other people see that?), I wouldn't realize that I don't or find anything wrong with the fact that I don't esteem myself as much as I "should".

Small or great, my humbling experiences have been the most important of my life. This is for two reasons. Until I realize that I am not as great as I think I am, I will be of little use to anyone else. Secondly, being humbled helps me to realize that I am a legitimate child of God. After all, if I am self-sufficient, self-reliant, self-involved, there is little room for a deity. There is little need for one. We've all heard songs, mantras, talk shows that encourage us to just "love ourselves" a little more. As if that would solve all our problems. Pamper yourself... you deserve it. In fact, I have almost abandoned the greeting card industry altogether. Am I the only one who notices that all the cards are about "me"? These are the ones along the lines of "Mom (or insert any other person for whom you could possibly buy a card), you've always been there for me, loved me, and supported me. And since I'm such a great person, you must be pretty special too. Thanks for believing in me." I usually have to pick up 5 or 6 cards before I finally find one that is just simply about the person for whom the card is being sought. In fact, if we all loved ourselves a little less, there would be a lot less crime, poverty, anger, and just about any other vice I could name.

Hebrews 12:4-13 assures us, in fact, that God disciplines His children. In fact, it assures us that if we have not been disciplined by God, we are almost surely not really his children at all. I think His most effective way of disciplining His children is through leveling our own self-love.

James 4:10 says, "¹⁰Humble yourselves in the presence of the Lord, and He will exalt you."

1 Peter 5:6 says, "⁶Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time,"

These verses seem to indicate that God would like for us to choose - of our own volition - to be humble. However, if we should choose not to do so or find it too difficult, God would be glad to help us with it.

According to Jesus, Matthew 23:12, says, ¹²"Whoever exalts himself shall be humbled; and whoever humbles himself shall be exalted."

In other words, there is no use for prideful people in God's economy - only for those who have a true sense of their own unworthiness. A friend of mine, "Carl", moved here from Mexico to marry his wife several years ago. He once reflected on the event in a way I'll never forget. He said that he had come to the USA with an idea that God wanted him to evangelize - be a "missionary" to the USA. Carl told God, "God, whatever you need me to do there, I'll do it. Just let me know what you need me to do." He told of how, not long after he arrived here, he was treated like a "second class citizen". He said that he had been faced with, among other things, racist remarks and people who asked him if he'd mow their lawn for ten dollars. He said that these things caused him to long for his home in Mexico - where he was respected and admired. He said it was then that he realized that God had put him in the USA, not because it was where God needed Carl most, but because God knew it was where Carl would most need Him. This was a revelation that changed his life from one of pride to humility.

I doubt that the Apostle Paul invented the run-on sentence, but he may have perfected it. In 1 Corinthians 1:4-8, he says, "⁴I thank my God always concerning you for the grace of God which was given you in Christ Jesus,

⁵that in everything you were enriched in Him, in all speech and all knowledge,
⁶even as the testimony concerning Christ was confirmed in you,
⁷so that you are not lacking in any gift, awaiting eagerly the revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ,
⁸who will also confirm you to the end, blameless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.

The important part of this run-on sentence, to me, is the last part. You see, the day I read it in my devotions was the same day my passport arrived in the mail. It made me think of my passport... which are basically my credentials or qualifications or "worthiness", if you will, for travel abroad. It is my identification. My credentials for getting into heaven are worthless. No matter what I do - no kind action, no volunteer work, no "good behavior" would overcome the fact that I was born a sinner and can't keep from sinning. But God doesn't care about my credentials, because, according to verse 8 above, it is Christ who confirms me. He, in affect, hands His own passport/ credentials (perfection and completion achieved through death) to God and says that I'm worthy of entry... not just into the fullness of eternity future - but the fullness and beauty of fellowship with Him on earth - in eternity present. This is an exclusive "club" for the humble, and, in case you misplaced your humility, you're in luck. God has spare smack-downs, just in case you have need of them. After all, God's wisdom is foolishness to those who are perishing in their sin.

Paul states in 1 Corinthians 2:3-8 ^{3 "}I was with you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling,

⁴and my message and my preaching were not in persuasive words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power,
⁵so that your faith would not rest on the wisdom of men, but on the power of God.
⁶Yet we do speak wisdom among those who are mature; a wisdom, however, not of this age nor of the rulers of this age, who are passing away;
⁷but we speak God's wisdom in a mystery, the hidden wisdom which God predestined before the ages to our glory;

⁸the wisdom which none of the rulers of this age has understood; for if they had understood it they would not have crucified the Lord of glory;"

The key to the passage I read tonight in 1 Corinthians 2 was this: ^12"Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may know the things freely given to us by God..."

I love to look at my engagement/wedding ring. I don't care if others see it. I like to look at it, because I know that my husband gave it to me during a time when it felt like no one else wanted me. In that humiliating time of my life, that ring was more than just a pretty piece of jewelry. It was proof that my husband-to-be wanted me (and my daughters) to be his own. That he wanted to take care of us and rescue us from our humble situation. Ephesians 1:13-14 says that God left us the Holy Spirit as a "seal" and "pledge" - kind of like an engagement ring - to remind us of our inheritance, assure us of our redemption, and show to ourselves and the world that we are God's possession. 1 Cor. 2:12 above basically says that we are given the Holy Spirit so that we can know the things God has given us. If you've ever gotten an owner's manual you didn't read or checked the box that says, "I have read and agree to all these terms and conditions" - having not read them at all, you're in good company. I imagine we've all done those things. Do you remember the old American Express slogan, "Membership has its privileges"? How much good would those privileges do you if you don't know what they are? The Holy Spirit is the One through Whom we gain knowledge of the "privileges" that are granted to us by God in Christ. Unfortunately, most of us never read the owner's manual unless something goes wrong. We never try to figure out what we're entitled to until we suspect we're not getting it. God desires that resource to be our life's breath - the source of our worth. The Holy Spirit is not only our engagement ring, He is our guarantee of benefits gained for us by Jesus' sacrifice.

Paul expresses his desire, in 1 Corinthians 2:5, that our faith "not rest on the wisdom of men, but on the power of God." Too often, we rely on the good advice, the sermon, the blog... and not receive the faith that is only imparted by the power of God at work. That is most easily seen in our weakness (2 Cor. 12:9-10) which is achieved through our humility. Until we realize that it is only Jesus' worth that gives us worth, we will walk in uselessness.

Bottom line? Humility achieves greater faith. When I ask the Lord for more faith, I will be humbled so that He may be glorified - His power seen more fully. If you find yourself in humbling circumstances today, embrace it, and rest assured it will achieve in you greater faith and be glad that is proves that you are a true child of your Heavenly Father. So embrace that scanned photo of your 8th grade graduation that got tagged and put on facebook. It'll bring you closer to God.

Hollering at the Handicapped

When I married my husband almost five years ago, we both had plenty of "baggage". Some of it was physical. I often teased that between my stretch marks and his excessive hairiness, nobody else would have taken either of us. Most of our baggage, however, was emotional - scars left behind by what seemed like ages of hurt from our respective pasts. I had dealt with much of mine through forgiveness, but Mark hadn't gotten there yet.

Today, as I was talking to a friend, I remembered a couple of stories about our first couple of years together. You see, my husband has always been wonderful to me when we are one-on-one or when we are at home with the kids. However, when we were first married, he had a bad habit of making fun of me to and/or in front of other people. He called it "teasing", but I always thought that teasing was more fun. His brand of teasing didn't feel fun to me at all. It was usually a comment to the effect of, "Who can get a word in with her around." I remember the first time he did it. We were just dating, and he was at church with me for the first time. A longtime guy friend of mine shook his hand and said, "I've known Marcie pretty much all our lives." To which Mark replied, smiling sweetly, "I'm sorry." I was a little surprised that he had said it, but then everyone laughed, and I kind of put it into the rolodex... you know; the one women keep in the back room of the mind in case they need to bring up something - anything - you've long forgotten?

Well, we only dated for about 5 weeks before we got engaged, and, within another 2 months of that, we were married. He lived almost 4 hours away while we were dating, and we only saw each other every couple of weekends during that time... much of it with children in tow. It's a good thing too, or his quirky little habit would probably have kept us from getting married at all.

Back to today, my friend and I were talking about the difference between handling a difficult situation the right way and handling it the wrong way. I immediately scrolled through "the rolodex" and thought of two instances which went two very different ways.

The first was when we were looking at houses. We were starting to get desperate as we'd been looking for almost a year and were setting the kinds of records with our realtor that make a person memorable - and not in a good way. Once, as we were driving down a country road, we saw a gorgeous house that we knew was way beyond our price range. However, we started quipping about it, during which I said, jokingly, something to the effect of, "Well, I guess I could always get a job, but I'd have to make more than you." He (and I'll maintain that he was) - not thinking - replied, "Oh, yeah. Right. What kind of job are you going to get? You've been a housewife for 6 years. You're basically uneducated, and ..." I think he said some more things after that, but I was recording on that rolodex so furiously, it was like my mental hand was getting a cramp. If you're a woman, you probably gasped when you read the words in red. I've never told that story in front of another woman without hearing a loud gasp or series of gasps. They know, right away, at precisely which point in his words they would have had to knock him into next Tuesday. I was shocked too. I mean, I knew he could be insensitive sometimes. After all, he had been a bachelor for most of his adult life, but was this what he really thought of me??? Uneducated? Incapable of making an amount comparable to his wages? I mean, not that I doubt that, but it's through no fault or deficiency of my own - I believe - that I would doubtful be able to earn wages comparable to his. He had just taken what I had thought was an amusing, far-fetched conversation and turned it into something personal. I can't remember exactly how I reacted, but I know I wasn't pleasant. I said something to let him know which words had hurt me and why. I probably didn't raise my voice much, as I imagine there were kids in the car, but I'm almost certain it was followed with an ugly, cold silence that could have ended in another "Berlin Wall" running straight down the middle of our house. Bottom line, I was mad, and it probably took a few days before I came around, and that's generally unlike me. I don't do grudges well.

In this next story I was a bit prouder of my response. The funny thing is that I don't remember exactly what it was that he said that time - the exact wording that was hurtful. It was likely something to the effect of "if someone could ever get a word in edgewise around you," because that has been in his repertoire for quite some time. This time, remarkably, I didn't respond right away. I was frustrated, and, as a result, I prayed first. I got with God, and came out of it remembering my identity. I just looked at him, as he faced forward driving, and I said simply, "I'm a blessing to you, whether you know it or not... whether you acknowledge it or not." I was not a loudmouth, always prattling on about some worthless thing (this, I had bought before). I was God's beloved daughter and the wife that God thought would be perfect for Mark - what he needed. I was the iron that would sharpen him. I was the sister who would speak Truth to him. I was the woman who would speak life to him. I was one who God would use to refine him. Truth reigned, and a minute or so silence ended with Mark saying, "You're right. I know that you're right, and I love you." World War III did not ensue. The rest of trip was just delightful.

I have since come to realize that I try to project how I would do something onto the person/people with whom I'm interacting. I think that it is far more productive to realize that the person with whom I am trying to relate is nothing like me. He/she wears skin like me, but that's where it ends. Even if we share likes/dislikes it's probably for entirely different reasons. Our motives don't usually match. Our desires rarely align. Our problem is that we're handicapped. When something happens to damage a person before he/she is born, that person comes into the world "handicapped". They are incapacitated in one or more ways - mentally, physically, etc. This draws, from most of us, a depth of compassion we didn't know we had. We show that person a tenderness and dignity that we don't tend to give those who cut us off in traffic or tell us we're uneducated. However, what about when something or a series of things happens to a person after he or she is born? Is that person not considered handicapped anymore? (In most cases...) If it happens one day before you come screaming into the world, fate is responsible, and you are pitied. If it happens a day after, you are responsible for it, and you are guilty.

The thing is, I am handicapped. My husband is too. The things he said, as he later realized, were borne out of anger and resentment toward women in general... not just toward me. He had suffered unimaginable heartache at female hands, and he wasn't able to figure out how to reconcile those feelings with the truth of who God had made him. The truth is, that the people who had wronged him had probably suffered the same kinds of things at the hands of others. We can't see how badly handicapped the person next to us is, and we can't know all the reasons why they act the way they do. This afternoon, I was thinking, "I wouldn't yell at a handicapped person. I wouldn't give him/her the silent treatment. I wouldn't jot off a sassy e-mail full of pithy sayings and smart remarks." I would recognize that, if they had been untouched by the harm this fallen world can deal us, they wouldn't intentionally hurt, anger, or annoy me, and I wouldn't them.

This isn't an excuse to take another person's abuse, but it is a plea, or a reminder even, to consider that there are reasons, far beyond what we can know, for the ways others act. They are handicapped, just like you... just like me. The actions or words of another person don't give me my worth. My worth was given me long before I was born or even conceived. Before I was conceived by my parents, I was conceived of by God Himself. He thought about what He wanted to make, and He made a me. Of all the other things He could have made... made a me? That's my true worth - where it lies... the desired creation of the One who hung the stars, and so is my husband, my neighbor, and the guy in the elevator next to me. Yes, even the lady who cuts me off in traffic was meant to be. If I remember who God made me when He saved me, the words and actions of others won't impact me. They won't own me.

I am very happy to report that, although not easily achieved, Mark has worked through a great deal of forgiveness toward people who hurt him and treats me as wonderfully outside the home as he does inside it. We are truly blessed to have one another.

Giving a person value was God's prerogative. Recognizing that worth is our responsibility. So stop hollering at the handicapped around you. Take pity - not just because they are handicapped, but because you are too.