The other day, I asked Natalie to get something for me. I told her that it was on the side table next to the couch. She told me that she couldn't find it.
"It's on that little table right there, next to the couch."
"Oh," she said, picking up the requested item. "You were hiding it from me."
"Well, I wasn't trying to hide it from you!"
Sometimes I wonder if God thinks that very thing. We moan about how hard it is to find an answer, or to find Him, and all the while He's speaking to us (or just not saying anything different from what He said the first time). I can see Him laughing, just like I did.
I'm not trying to hide it from you!
Friday, August 13, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
The answer.
So a few days after I was feeling sorry for Natalie at the parade, I felt sorry for Elsie about something similar. And then sorry for Natalie over something else. And I felt like God asked me, "Are you going to keep feeling sad about things and have a victim mentality? Is that what you want to pass on to your children?"
And I decided to say, "No, thank you. I think I'll pass on that."
It's so true that you can never determine what other people will do, or the effect in circumstances that decision might have on you, but you are always in control of what you do. Sometimes I wish I had control over what other people did, but that's not true power. True power is taking control of your own life, actions, emotions, and words by making purposeful decisions. It's funny to say that when life hands you lemons you're going to throw them back and demand chocolate, but that's just shaking your fist at the wind. I think it is probably much better to take something sour in your life and turn it into something sweet. Like lemonade, you might never be able to completely erase the tartness, but the taste of the end result can still be memorable and enjoyable.
Hopefully, this happened for Natalie. When we got home she told Jason about the parade, and was angry about the pushy kids who got all the candy. Jason, being removed from the situation, was in a much better frame of mind than I was, and suggested that she forgive those kids. He led her in a prayer where she spoke forgiveness to them, and she hasn't mentioned it or complained about how little candy she got since then. I think she really let a spirit of forgiveness take root in her heart, instead of bitterness.
Jason and I drove home from a family reunion Saturday night, and I started tearing up. Not everything in his life has been perfect, of course, and sometimes he experienced deep hurt, like when his parents divorced. But out of that situation, Jason's mother decided to move to Wyoming, where Jason worked with a girl who decided to tell him what Jesus was really like. Because of that, Jason decided to give his life to Jesus and attend a homegroup. Then he decided to go to Bible College and meet me. And marry me. And move to Wyoming where the leader of that homegroup is a leader in our church. A lot of God's goodness was evident to me in that moment, and it was overwhelming.
If I really believe that God works all things together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose, and I really believe that His forgiveness has the power to change lives -- when I am forgiven, and when I choose to forgive -- then hurt will have no place within me.
And I decided to say, "No, thank you. I think I'll pass on that."
It's so true that you can never determine what other people will do, or the effect in circumstances that decision might have on you, but you are always in control of what you do. Sometimes I wish I had control over what other people did, but that's not true power. True power is taking control of your own life, actions, emotions, and words by making purposeful decisions. It's funny to say that when life hands you lemons you're going to throw them back and demand chocolate, but that's just shaking your fist at the wind. I think it is probably much better to take something sour in your life and turn it into something sweet. Like lemonade, you might never be able to completely erase the tartness, but the taste of the end result can still be memorable and enjoyable.
Hopefully, this happened for Natalie. When we got home she told Jason about the parade, and was angry about the pushy kids who got all the candy. Jason, being removed from the situation, was in a much better frame of mind than I was, and suggested that she forgive those kids. He led her in a prayer where she spoke forgiveness to them, and she hasn't mentioned it or complained about how little candy she got since then. I think she really let a spirit of forgiveness take root in her heart, instead of bitterness.
Jason and I drove home from a family reunion Saturday night, and I started tearing up. Not everything in his life has been perfect, of course, and sometimes he experienced deep hurt, like when his parents divorced. But out of that situation, Jason's mother decided to move to Wyoming, where Jason worked with a girl who decided to tell him what Jesus was really like. Because of that, Jason decided to give his life to Jesus and attend a homegroup. Then he decided to go to Bible College and meet me. And marry me. And move to Wyoming where the leader of that homegroup is a leader in our church. A lot of God's goodness was evident to me in that moment, and it was overwhelming.
If I really believe that God works all things together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose, and I really believe that His forgiveness has the power to change lives -- when I am forgiven, and when I choose to forgive -- then hurt will have no place within me.
Monday, July 19, 2010
What's the secret?
When I was in Bible college, I once met with one of our church leaders. In the middle of our meeting, after asking me a few random get-to-know-you questions, he looked at me and said,
"So, you're not one to push and shove your way to the front. You're content to wait in line for your portion. But -- sometimes that means you don't get what you want."
He pegged me so well that I think I only managed to pull myself together enough to nod. And then I listened very closely. Because I knew he was going to tell me the solution to this problem.
Except he didn't. And he didn't the rest of the meeting. And he never brought it up after that. And there have been times in my life that I wished he would.
I took the girls to a parade last week. In years past we've left with so much candy that I've learned to bring an ice cream bucket to collect it all. To kids, that's what a parade is: candy. And an occasional group playing music. But the music isn't fun or important enough to get them excited about going back.
I got mixed up trying to find the spot where we stood last year, and ended up in the worst area possible. I could tell even before the parade started that this was no good. But it was too late to find another place. So we stayed on a corner that a hundred other (older) kids shared.
For the first hour of the parade Natalie had three pieces of candy in her bucket. That's because one woman handed me a packet of gobstoppers before the parade even started (she was promoting Mothers Of Preschoolers), and another mom watched her two boys dive after a pile of candy and collect the whole thing. She made them both give Natalie a piece.
Elsie was much too hot and disturbed by sirens and crowds to do anything but beg me to hold her so she could bury her head in my shoulder. So the only help I could give to Natalie was to look a few floats down and give her a heads up when people might be throwing candy.
This is pretty much how our experience of the parade went this time: There were not as many people throwing candy as last year (I think we stood at the beginning of the parade last time, and in the middle this year, so maybe a lot of it was already gone). A lot of the people threw candy before us and then not again until after us. When people did throw candy our way, they sometimes threw it too close to the middle of the road. But even if they dropped it right in front of Natalie, it was gone before she could even bend over. Seriously, watching the other children was like watching the reverse effect of flipping on the light switch in a room full of cockroaches. About 5 people handed out frisbees to the four or five children in front of Natalie, then ignored her hand held out patiently, and then continued giving frisbees to the next three children after her. There was one nice man who saw she had nothing and purposefully dropped three pieces of candy directly into her bucket (thank you, Lord, for that man!), and one friendly girl who gave up her ice pop when the woman carrying ice pops got mobbed 10 feet ahead of us. But it was mostly disappointing, and Natalie almost cried more than once. And I was telling myself that I was taking them straight to Dairy Queen as soon as Natalie told me she was ready to leave.
It was one of those times when I wished I knew how to get what you want without being pushy or obnoxious.
So . . . anybody out there found the secret? To either getting what you want or, you know, ending hurt in the world in general?
"So, you're not one to push and shove your way to the front. You're content to wait in line for your portion. But -- sometimes that means you don't get what you want."
He pegged me so well that I think I only managed to pull myself together enough to nod. And then I listened very closely. Because I knew he was going to tell me the solution to this problem.
Except he didn't. And he didn't the rest of the meeting. And he never brought it up after that. And there have been times in my life that I wished he would.
I took the girls to a parade last week. In years past we've left with so much candy that I've learned to bring an ice cream bucket to collect it all. To kids, that's what a parade is: candy. And an occasional group playing music. But the music isn't fun or important enough to get them excited about going back.
I got mixed up trying to find the spot where we stood last year, and ended up in the worst area possible. I could tell even before the parade started that this was no good. But it was too late to find another place. So we stayed on a corner that a hundred other (older) kids shared.
For the first hour of the parade Natalie had three pieces of candy in her bucket. That's because one woman handed me a packet of gobstoppers before the parade even started (she was promoting Mothers Of Preschoolers), and another mom watched her two boys dive after a pile of candy and collect the whole thing. She made them both give Natalie a piece.
Elsie was much too hot and disturbed by sirens and crowds to do anything but beg me to hold her so she could bury her head in my shoulder. So the only help I could give to Natalie was to look a few floats down and give her a heads up when people might be throwing candy.
This is pretty much how our experience of the parade went this time: There were not as many people throwing candy as last year (I think we stood at the beginning of the parade last time, and in the middle this year, so maybe a lot of it was already gone). A lot of the people threw candy before us and then not again until after us. When people did throw candy our way, they sometimes threw it too close to the middle of the road. But even if they dropped it right in front of Natalie, it was gone before she could even bend over. Seriously, watching the other children was like watching the reverse effect of flipping on the light switch in a room full of cockroaches. About 5 people handed out frisbees to the four or five children in front of Natalie, then ignored her hand held out patiently, and then continued giving frisbees to the next three children after her. There was one nice man who saw she had nothing and purposefully dropped three pieces of candy directly into her bucket (thank you, Lord, for that man!), and one friendly girl who gave up her ice pop when the woman carrying ice pops got mobbed 10 feet ahead of us. But it was mostly disappointing, and Natalie almost cried more than once. And I was telling myself that I was taking them straight to Dairy Queen as soon as Natalie told me she was ready to leave.
It was one of those times when I wished I knew how to get what you want without being pushy or obnoxious.
So . . . anybody out there found the secret? To either getting what you want or, you know, ending hurt in the world in general?
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
I want them to stay that way.
With the release of Toy Story 3, Natalie has been interested in watching the other Toy Story movies that she'd never seen before. So, thank you very much, Netflix, I will take a copy of Toy Story 2.
We decided to make a movie night out of it. So there we were, in the living room eating popcorn, when the toys turn down the Barbie aisle of Al's Toy Barn. Their jaws drop, their eyes bug out, and I was sorely disappointed. I don't want my girls thinking this is a normal way for guys to act around girls, anymore than I want them to go around scantily clad like the Barbies.
My children are still very innocent, and I like it that way. When the dentist asked Natalie if she was dating, she gave him a blank look. She doesn't know what that means. When he asked if she had any boyfriends, she knew how to answer. She has lots of friends that are girls, but only two close friends that are boys. "Yeah, I have two -- Avery and Ethan."
My mom took Natalie and her cousins to the store while we were visiting, and Natalie came back with a Polly Pocket pool set. It's got a pool, swimming suits, clothes, Polly, and a boy. Natalie says that the boy and girl are brother and sister. I LOVE that. Because, why else would a girl and boy hang out together in their swimming suits unless they were brother and sister?
So Disney, go ahead and make movies for children. I mean, I'm not crazy about it when you put scary parts in, or make the villain a witch doctor like in your last princess movie. I'm still watching you pretty closely before I decide if my kids lay eyes on you. But please, could you spare us some of the junk and make movies for children?
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Happy Birthday, Elsie!
I'm putting up an old post today, since it is what I have been thinking about this week. I love you, my Elsie Joy-comes-in-the-morning!
I was holding Elsie this morning before Natalie woke up, and I was struck -- as I often am -- with the thought of how blessed I am to have her. Elsie is my miracle baby, which is funny because there was never anything wrong with her, as is usually the case when that term is used. My pregnancy and delivery were textbook perfect, as a matter of fact.
When I became pregnant with Elsie I had finished recovering from a surgery from an ectopic pregnancy only two months earlier. Jason and I sat down on the bed, looking at a stick with a little pink plus sign, and didn't say too much. Really, we were expecting that plus sign, we'd been trying for that plus sign, but we were still in shock.
After Elsie was born, at my six week check-up, all I could do was sit and stare at the little pink bundle in the carseat. It was a year and two weeks after my surgery. And the thought hit me, I could have spent this last year with no pregnancy, and no baby. Jason and I could have spent the last year trying, and being depressed, wallowing in pain and sadness. Or I could have become pregnant and spent nine months in oppresive worry. In fact, I remember telling Mary R. that I didn't know how I could ever become pregnant again without being in constant worry (She wisely spoke words that I will always remember: But Eleanor, worrying only takes away. It never adds). Instead our story had a different end -- a different middle even. It was a time of great healing for us, of expectation, of hope.
It's that of that story that Elsie continually reminds me. Please understand that I am not saying -- and would never say -- that a loved one lost can be replaced by another. But Elsie is a reminder of the abounding mercy and the abounding love of God in my life. Of all the ways things could have been, but weren't. She makes me grateful for so many other things, and for so many other people that I still share this life with. That's why Elsie is my miracle baby. I see in her the miracle of God at work in our lives.
I was holding Elsie this morning before Natalie woke up, and I was struck -- as I often am -- with the thought of how blessed I am to have her. Elsie is my miracle baby, which is funny because there was never anything wrong with her, as is usually the case when that term is used. My pregnancy and delivery were textbook perfect, as a matter of fact.
When I became pregnant with Elsie I had finished recovering from a surgery from an ectopic pregnancy only two months earlier. Jason and I sat down on the bed, looking at a stick with a little pink plus sign, and didn't say too much. Really, we were expecting that plus sign, we'd been trying for that plus sign, but we were still in shock.
After Elsie was born, at my six week check-up, all I could do was sit and stare at the little pink bundle in the carseat. It was a year and two weeks after my surgery. And the thought hit me, I could have spent this last year with no pregnancy, and no baby. Jason and I could have spent the last year trying, and being depressed, wallowing in pain and sadness. Or I could have become pregnant and spent nine months in oppresive worry. In fact, I remember telling Mary R. that I didn't know how I could ever become pregnant again without being in constant worry (She wisely spoke words that I will always remember: But Eleanor, worrying only takes away. It never adds). Instead our story had a different end -- a different middle even. It was a time of great healing for us, of expectation, of hope.
It's that of that story that Elsie continually reminds me. Please understand that I am not saying -- and would never say -- that a loved one lost can be replaced by another. But Elsie is a reminder of the abounding mercy and the abounding love of God in my life. Of all the ways things could have been, but weren't. She makes me grateful for so many other things, and for so many other people that I still share this life with. That's why Elsie is my miracle baby. I see in her the miracle of God at work in our lives.
Just one moment, please.
Do you know what I am doing right now?
Eating ice cream.
Let us bow our heads and have a moment of silence for ice cream.
...
Ah, yes. Extra creamy vanilla with some Hershey's chocolate perfected drizzled over the top. And it is even more enjoyable to me that I'm eating it now when the girls are asleep. Ice cream as a family affair is fun, but by yourself, it is indulgence. Like taking a bubble bath (and when was the last time you did that?)
Wait, let me take another bite.
Sigh.
I have rules about ice cream. Actually I'm just taking these right off the top of my head, but I think they're true just the same.
1. Never waste the calories on a flavor you don't REALLY enjoy. (When I find one I'll let you know...)
2. Always take just a little less than what you really want to eat. You'll feel self-controlled. Empowered, even. At the bottom of the bowl you will still want more, but you'll say to yourself, "Ahhh. That was just the right amount of ice cream."
3. Eat it when you can truly enjoy it. Maybe this is why I like to eat it when the girls are in bed. I have a desire to savor my desserts. Have you ever been at a restaurant with friends, and happened upon the most amazing dessert OF YOUR LIFE, but one particular individual just keeps talking and talking and talking? And you love them and all (truly, you are there for the friend, not the dessert) but you just want to say, "Will you excuse me for one moment while I soak in the luscious, smooth, and (probably) chocolatey-ness of this dessert?" Of course, you don't. You would never, ever say this. But occasionally after a good bite you think, "This dessert is slipping away from me!"
There. My ice cream is finished. My inspiration has been devoured, and therefore I have nothing left to say.
Uh, the rules were freebies.
You're welcome.
Eating ice cream.
Let us bow our heads and have a moment of silence for ice cream.
...
Ah, yes. Extra creamy vanilla with some Hershey's chocolate perfected drizzled over the top. And it is even more enjoyable to me that I'm eating it now when the girls are asleep. Ice cream as a family affair is fun, but by yourself, it is indulgence. Like taking a bubble bath (and when was the last time you did that?)
Wait, let me take another bite.
Sigh.
I have rules about ice cream. Actually I'm just taking these right off the top of my head, but I think they're true just the same.
1. Never waste the calories on a flavor you don't REALLY enjoy. (When I find one I'll let you know...)
2. Always take just a little less than what you really want to eat. You'll feel self-controlled. Empowered, even. At the bottom of the bowl you will still want more, but you'll say to yourself, "Ahhh. That was just the right amount of ice cream."
3. Eat it when you can truly enjoy it. Maybe this is why I like to eat it when the girls are in bed. I have a desire to savor my desserts. Have you ever been at a restaurant with friends, and happened upon the most amazing dessert OF YOUR LIFE, but one particular individual just keeps talking and talking and talking? And you love them and all (truly, you are there for the friend, not the dessert) but you just want to say, "Will you excuse me for one moment while I soak in the luscious, smooth, and (probably) chocolatey-ness of this dessert?" Of course, you don't. You would never, ever say this. But occasionally after a good bite you think, "This dessert is slipping away from me!"
There. My ice cream is finished. My inspiration has been devoured, and therefore I have nothing left to say.
Uh, the rules were freebies.
You're welcome.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Commenter's Intimidation
Ok, I admit: I have commenter's intimidation. There are blogs I read on a regular basis that I will not comment on. Way too scary.
Sometimes I don't comment because I have nothing to say that wasn't already said by someone else. Sometimes it was so beautiful that it seems inadequate to write "That is so beautiful." But mostly, on these particular blogs, I don't comment because these people are cool. And you know that saying, Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt? I'm trying not to be a live demonstration of that one. Well, the "remove all doubt" part anyway (ok, and the being thought a fool part, too. But I'm only in control of one of those things).
A few times I have bucked up enough courage to leave a comment, and usually I have regretted it. Even tortured myself with it. Surely I sounded dumb. Ridiculous at best. Why did I ever comment? They would never know I was even reading their blog!
One blog I read is maintained by a Christian chic-lit writing pair. If you've never read a post by these gals, you should go browse a couple. I find them very entertaining. But I never comment. Oh, no. In fact, they have contests where they give away books they've written if you tweet about their new book coming out, or write a blog post on a certain topic. I seriously considered entering the last one because, wouldn't it be so fun to win?
But, no. Because those other people who are so cool that I don't want to comment on their blogs? They read AND are brave enough to comment on this one. And . . . what if I won (they announce the winners via a blog post) and thought, "What, she reads this one, too? Does she have to invade everything we read? Isn't there anything left that's just fun for us?"
You have to understand, I know that line of thinking is silly. These are nice people; they probably would never think that about me, or if they did, they would be remorseful immediately afterward. But I still feel like I can't take the chance. And so, it looks as though I will not be winning free books anytime soon.
I would like to take this moment to say that if, by chance, I have regular readers out there who are afraid to comment here, you really shouldn't be. Honestly, haven't I shown you enough of myself to prove that you are cooler than me? Be free. If you don't like to comment, I'm cool with that. But if you are one who sits there, holding yourself back so that you won't comment and feel dumb later, please don't. After all, blogging is slightly narcissistic -- bloggers like to know that people are reading what they write.
So, is there anyone else out there who joins this silent frustration of commentor's intimidation?
Sometimes I don't comment because I have nothing to say that wasn't already said by someone else. Sometimes it was so beautiful that it seems inadequate to write "That is so beautiful." But mostly, on these particular blogs, I don't comment because these people are cool. And you know that saying, Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt? I'm trying not to be a live demonstration of that one. Well, the "remove all doubt" part anyway (ok, and the being thought a fool part, too. But I'm only in control of one of those things).
A few times I have bucked up enough courage to leave a comment, and usually I have regretted it. Even tortured myself with it. Surely I sounded dumb. Ridiculous at best. Why did I ever comment? They would never know I was even reading their blog!
One blog I read is maintained by a Christian chic-lit writing pair. If you've never read a post by these gals, you should go browse a couple. I find them very entertaining. But I never comment. Oh, no. In fact, they have contests where they give away books they've written if you tweet about their new book coming out, or write a blog post on a certain topic. I seriously considered entering the last one because, wouldn't it be so fun to win?
But, no. Because those other people who are so cool that I don't want to comment on their blogs? They read AND are brave enough to comment on this one. And . . . what if I won (they announce the winners via a blog post) and thought, "What, she reads this one, too? Does she have to invade everything we read? Isn't there anything left that's just fun for us?"
You have to understand, I know that line of thinking is silly. These are nice people; they probably would never think that about me, or if they did, they would be remorseful immediately afterward. But I still feel like I can't take the chance. And so, it looks as though I will not be winning free books anytime soon.
I would like to take this moment to say that if, by chance, I have regular readers out there who are afraid to comment here, you really shouldn't be. Honestly, haven't I shown you enough of myself to prove that you are cooler than me? Be free. If you don't like to comment, I'm cool with that. But if you are one who sits there, holding yourself back so that you won't comment and feel dumb later, please don't. After all, blogging is slightly narcissistic -- bloggers like to know that people are reading what they write.
So, is there anyone else out there who joins this silent frustration of commentor's intimidation?
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