~ Don't Leave It in the Bowl

Sometimes God uses His Word to mold me. Sometimes He uses the wisdom of a friend, a sermon, or a good book as his sharpening tools. Often, He uses pain and struggle to make His point. There are times when he speaks in the stillness and calmness of life, and then there are other times when he chooses to make Himself known in the chaos. Imagine my surprise when I heard Him speak to me as I stared into a bowl of Lucky Charms the other day. (Yes, I mean the magically delicious ones.)

(Photo found here)

My son wanted a bowl of cereal for breakfast, specifically Lucky Charms. Needing to get my older children fed and ready for school, I handed him a small bowl of dry cereal to appease him while I went about my morning routine, reminding myself to give him a nutricious breakfast once they were off to school.

After a while, he came back to the kitchen and handed me the bowl. I glanced down to see that the bowl was almost as full as it had been when I gave it to him, except that all the pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, & green clovers had "magically" disappeared. He ate every marshmallow and left the "semi"-nutricious part of the cereal. I said to him, "Honey, you can't just eat the fun parts and leave the parts you don't like." How many moms have said that to their children after a bowl of Lucky Charms?

(Photo found here)

The moment it left my mouth, I heard a soft whisper say, "What are you eating lately? You've been making your diet on the fun stuff and leaving the important stuff in the bowl." It may not have been audible, I'm pretty sure no one else heard it, but I'm quite sure it was a message for me. Once the kids were off to school and my little one had occupied himself at the train table, I sat in the stillness and asked God to show me what I'd been leaving in the bowl.

First, I thought of the obvious things, you know, the everyday things - choosing to take a drive instead of getting groceries, working at the computer instead of playing with the boys, finishing that last chapter instead of going to bed when I should - stuff like that. But as He poked and prodded, I saw the bigger picture. I had been choosing to do the things in my life that were easy, comfortable and fun and nelecting to do the things that were difficult, challenging, beyond my comfort level. He showed me where I had pulled away from relationships because, too many times, people had caused pain and staying away was easier, less risky. He revealed how I had pulled away from ministry because ministry, at times, is messy and pulling away keeps things neat and clean. But at what cost?

Isn't it during the pain and struggles of relationships that He has grown me up, filtered out some of the ugliness of my selfishness and pride? Hasn't he used those times to make me look just a little more like Him? In the messiness of ministry, haven't I run to Him, clung to Him and sought to discover His love for His people, His truth for my life and His heart for His church?

In pulling away, hiding, and closing myself off, I have traded mess and pain for complacency. In choosing to have a lukewarm affection for people I have chosen a lukewarm affection for my Savior. In choosing to neglect the important things, I've neglected Him. Somehow, I've abandoned His best for me, and settled for a cheap, feel-good, path that, at best, leaves me craving something better.

I don't want to settle for complacency. I don't want a shallow, meaningless existence. I've tasted His best and I know that pain, and struggle and mess are sometimes what He uses to bring you to His best. He wants me to do life with people - not on my own. He wants the push and pull of that communion to mold me and sharpen me. He wants me to love people the way He loves them, see them as He sees them. I want it, too. And I know when I get it right, when I do life like He wants me to, it's magically delicious (in a spiritually fulfilling kind of way)!

What are you eating lately? Are you just snacking on the fun parts, the fluff? Are you leaving the important stuff in the bowl? Or are you feasting on the stuff that grows you up and satisfies your deepest longings?

~ Longings

Remember this young man?

Four months ago, he was longing for his first snowfall of the winter.

Today, he begged me to pull the bike down from the garage. He's been dying for spring to come so he could ride it, and now that the snow has mostly melted off the drive, he and his brother are all smiles. (Can you really call it spring when they're still wearing hats, gloves and snowboots and there is still snow on half the ground?)

In a few weeks, we're headed south to visit grandparents. He's making plans to take his new metal detector he got for Christmas, and I know he's been dreaming about ants. (I hope Tennessee has ants in March.) Tonight he said, "Mom, I wish you would tell me that we're leaving tomorrow."

Then, as he realized the futility of his thinking, he said, "I just wish we were leaving this Friday."

All I could say was, "Me, too, honey!"

He ended by saying, "I'm just so excited!"

We don't get to see grandparents often. Maybe twice a year if we are lucky. It is one of my great sadnesses. (Stop crying mom!) But we're going, and I can't wait! I just wish we were leaving this Friday!

Oh, by the way, this one's excited to see his Papa!

Sometimes God Has Other Plans

I wake to gloomy skies. The fog is thick.

I start my day. The youngest calls from his bed, and I call the oldest out of his.

Breakfast and chores are waiting.

A little hand reaches up and suddenly a bowl crashes to the floor. Sweet, sticky milk and corn flakes go flying. (Yes, we add sugar!) I hold my breath, trying not to yell at the two who are just standing by watching, and I grab a towel to begin scooping up the mess.

My husband scoops up the culprit and carries him off. When he returns, I see a huge wet spot from carrying the sticky, little guilty one. It's on the shirt he has just ironed. When I point it out, he echoes my frustration as he leaves to find another shirt.

I put on my coat, pick up someone's forgotten planner and fly out the door so the boys won't be late. As I walk through the breezeway to the garage, I have a brief recollection of an open backpack hanging on the back of a chair. I yell, "Does everyone have their backpack?" Of course, no one does! The pressure is mounting.

They climb in the van, arguing about who is supposed to close the doors. I lose my cool, if I ever had any, and I give the talk for the thousandth time, "The last one out closes the doors, and don't talk to your brother like that." Maybe it will stick this time. I'm not hopeful!

The morning has not gone as I had hoped. And now, my children will start school with mommy's tirade as the last thing they remember of home and family.

As we're driving, I want to change the memory of their morning, so I ask if anyone has seen signs of spring. Someone yells, "I saw birds," and another "I saw some grass." We talk about how exciting it will be to watch that grass become green. We talk about how the rivers flow faster in the spring. I remark that I haven't seen any ants, yet. (I mention this because my boys love ants more than just about anything.) They are off planning what they are going to do when the ants finally make an appearance.

They climb out of the car, we say the "I love you's" and the "Have a good day's," and I drive off feeling like maybe I've salvaged a tiny moment from the morning I had planned.

This morning did not go the way I think mornings should go. It's not the first time.

I'm familiar with things not going according to my plans -

- moving north when the only way I wanted to go was south

- eleven years of waiting to hold that first child

- two babies instead of one-at-a-time

- a broken leg instead of the Virgin Islands

- a pregnancy 20 years into marriage

If there is one thing I have learned in living through all those change of plans, it is this, and I unwrap it again today:

Sometimes God has other plans!

In most of the big "change of plan" moments, I can look back and see His wisdom. If I can trust His plans for my life, then surely I can trust His plan for this day. I'm not sure why spilled milk and forgotten backpacks are part of today's plan, (Perhaps to teach patience?) but I know there is one thing I can trust, one thing I can know for sure. His plan is always better than mine, and it's always for my good!

Many are the plans in a human heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails. Proverbs 19:21

In the midst of today's best laid plans, I'm unwrapping the gift of God's perfect plan at Chatting at the Sky.

Music to my ears...

Every mom of boys has those moments when you wonder if, left to themselves, your children just might kill each other. (Or is that just me?) I am so grateful that in addition to the arguing, the tattling, the threats and the screaming, sometimes what I hear is this...

...an older brother telling a younger brother how much he will miss him when he goes to school today - a simple lovesong.

...the older brothers saying, each in his own time, "But mom, I just want to protect him" or "I was trying to keep him safe so he wouldn't get smashed," or "Mom, I brought him down so he wouldn't get hurt." Their watchfulness makes me proud - a hymn of security.

...a younger brother telling an older brother who doesn't have much money saved that he'll help him buy something he's been wanting - a sacrificial melody.

...a younger brother asking 50 times a day where his older brothers are - a song of anticipation.

...an older brother saying, "Let's play hide and seek," and the chaos that follows - the music of laughter.

...a brother saying to his twin after hearing him say he doesn't understand his homework, "Mom, I can help him" - a chorus of caring.

...the oldest saying to his very sad younger brother in the car, "Do you want to hold my hand?" - a sweet song of connection.

Together, these become a symphony of hope - that God is weaving their hearts together, each one an aria of their learning to put the other first. As I remember the tunes, I savor and commit them to memory as their rhythms join the tempo of spring's sweet song today...

...the birds singing and mud puddle splashes.

Before the music reaches it's best moment in my head, I hear one boy say to his brother, "Come here, you flea-ridden varment," and suddenly the timbre of what was a bright melody only moments before, suddenly becomes the white noise of my day.

Gray Skies Are Gonna Clear Up...

The sun is smiling today and so am I.

I'm puttin' on a happy face because...

...my oldest son won first place in a math contest at school and placed second in his whole grade (only to have the prize of 1st snatched from his hands by his best friend).

...when my two-year-old gets excited he screams, "Yes, sir," really loud. It's pretty cute!

...the fields were sparkling this morning. (I wish I could do it justice.)

...at parent/teacher conferences this week, Ellis' teacher said she wished she had 22 students just like him, and Aidan's teacher said she could put him anywhere in the room and know he wouldn't get in trouble.

...we'll all be home for dinner tonight.

...this pink nose jumped out at me against the white snow. I'm pretty sure she smiled back. She was just friendly like that.

...my husband is so goofy sometimes I have a hard time seeing him as a professional, but somehow he pulls it off. He makes me laugh!

...we now have a built-in babysitter!

...it won't be long 'til we can all shed these coats!

...even though it's still winter here in the midwest, the skies are blue instead of gray today, and I can feel the sun's warmth on my face. I love that!

What put a smile on your face today?

A Little Bit of Humor

After breakfast this morning and after reading my last post, my husband and I had a brief conversation in the kitchen. (He said I could share.)

Ken: Hey, thanks for saying such nice things about me in your post.

Me: You're welcome. You're the glue, baby, the mortar, the nails (and I proceeded to come up with all sorts of construction related words to make my point). You hold it all together!

Ken: (without missing a beat) And you're a brick house!

You gotta love a man who sees you as you are and loves you as you wish you were!

Thanks babe!

~ When a House Stops Being a Home

A few days ago, I drove past this house.

It is an interesting structure with incredible details. (Just look at those windows!) I'm sure it used to be a beautiful home. Today, the front windows are shattered, the doors are boarded up, and it's obvious no one has lived there for years.

I am left to wonder?

When did this house stop being a home?

Was it when the owner died or the family moved away?

I drive past houses every day that are newer, more modern houses. There are cars in the driveway, glass in the windows, and it's obvious there are people inside. Sadly, statistics tell me that many of these houses have already stopped being homes. Ministry has taught me that just because a family looks like they have it all together, doesn't mean they have a happy home.

So when does a house stop being a home? Is it when the people who dwell there...

...stop talking to each other?

...stop saying I love you?

...stop offering forgiveness?

...stop laughing with one another?

...stop being with each other?

...stop encouraging one another?

...stop believing in each other?

I suspect that a house stops being a home long before the decay sets in.

I see families all the time who...

...don't protect their schedules.

...don't defend each other.

...don't respect each other.

...don't sacrifice for each other.

...don't play together.

...don't serve one another.

How long will it be before the walls of their homes deteriorate, the foundations crack, or someone knocks their windows out?

I know my home is far from perfect. I have moments of tearing down when I should be building up. Sometimes I lash out. Sometimes I blame. Sometimes I use harsh words. Most of the time, I yell. (I'm a yeller. I admit it.)

But that's not how I want to live. I want to be a builder. I want to...

...own up to my mistakes.

...extend grace.

...be what my husband needs.

...bring out the best in my boys.

...make home a safe place where we all want to be - a haven.

My husband is a builder. He forgives - over & over. He strengthens me. He fills in where I am weak. He makes me feel safe, loved and treasured. He builds me up not tears me down.

Keeping a house a home is hard work. It's choosing to die to self every moment of every day. It's deciding to put everyone else's needs above your own. It is choosing to live together instead of just existing alone. It is a gift, and it's worth fighting for.

Unless the LORD builds the house, the builders labor in vain. (Psalm 127:1)

The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down. (Proverbs 14:1)

This post is linked to Chatting at the Sky's Tuesdays Unwrapped