God hugged me today.

His watched stopped and he gave me his time today.

God is willing.

His arms and feet dug a trench today.

God is strong.

His servant with the knowledge to fix my problem came over today.

God is knowledgeable.

His tools were made available today.

God has the resources.

His supplier delivered what we needed today.

God is the provider.

His giver made it possible today.

God is generous.

Knowledge from a 3 year old

Last night at dinner, both girls (3ys & 18 mo) were talking to one another from across the table very loudly. After a few minutes of this craziness, this conversation occurred:
G- "Girls, this house will be quiet. Talk quietly."
E-"Daddy, this is Emma's house!"
G-"This is your house? Do you pay rent here?"
E-"Daddy, Jesus gave me this house."
G- (to me) "I just got schooled by a 3 year old"

Half-Jacks

My friend, Jess, and I just went to the Silver Sneakers Water Aerobics class at our gym. I laughed harder during this one hour of hopping, stretching, pushing and pulling water than I have laughed in a long time. I think my workout was more productive because of such laughter.

My chuckles began as we entered the water just as all of the “silver” individuals were- the gently sloping incline. Then the instructor glanced at us a few times before she got the hint that we were a part of her class and not casually swimming passers-by. Next she sent us to the back of the group (thankfully! I was worried I was about to be embarrassed by the participants double my age.). More laughter. Soon I realized that Jess and I were the only ones wearing a bathing suit of any color than black. We stood out for our age, our limited water aerobics experience, our height at which our exercises were above the others, our bright bathing suits, our laughter, and my (inconsistent) splashes. I could not contain myself during the exercise the instructor called “half-jacks”. This movement included bringing your knees (extended to the sides of your body) up halfway and bringing your bent elbows (also extended to the sides of your body in the “put your hands in the air” type posture) down to touch your knees. Then we were supposed to bring our knees down while pushing hands back into the air. Repeat. Repeat faster. Repeat your fastest. During these few minutes of half-jacks, all I could conjure up in my head were the silly Christmas ornaments I have packed away in the attic that have a short string hanging from beneath them. When you pull the string, all four limbs do something funny and repetitive. Then you repeat faster. Then you push the Christmas ornament to its limits and repeat it’s fastest. Laughter ensues. What a great morning!

Photo found @ www.nationalphotoawards.com/i//Water_Aerobics

Timeout Tag-a-long

Timeout Tag-a-long /[tahym-out tag-uh-long]/noun. Meaning- /a. to assist in the service and duration of discipline given to an older sibling for the purpose of not parting or preventing the potential boredom that might occur while older sibling is serving timeout sentence./ b. must place gluteus maximus as closely beside older sibling’s as possible. /Origin- mom moment in my kitchen.

Our youngest has created a new self-designated post during her sister’s timeouts- right by her side. Adi willingly serves the punishment with her sister because she either (a) sees it necessary share the load and help carry the weighty punishment of a two minute timeout, (b) would not want to miss out on anything exciting happening at eye level of the coat closet door frame in the kitchen, or (c) just wants to be with her favorite person- no matter the circumstances.

I’m gathering that my first option for Adi’s reasoning for this assignment is slightly incorrect. This deduction is made simply because she does not seem to enjoy sharing other forms of discipline such as taking away a toy causing fights or just coming indoors from an hour of coloring on the sidewalk with chalk. Wrong.

So on to the second option for Adi’s MO (term originally used in the military, short for military operation…I think!). I am sure there are handfuls of stimulating events that occur lower than 16 or so inches from the floor in my kitchen. Maybe the coat closet door is just a good seat to see the dog scramble to grab each crumb that falls from the counter as meals are prepared. Perhaps the dust bunnies that trail the heels of taller people walking through the kitchen are more entrancing than I imagine. Or even better, just possibly Adi is hoping with all her might that the closet door will fling open and the coveted bucket of markers will come falling into her little hands. This could very well be the right reason she has succumbed to the assignment of the Timeout Tag-a-long. Hmm.

But before we decide, let’s examine the third reason of this self-designation. Could it really be that our Adi just wants to be with her sister- no matter the circumstances? Might she simply desire her sister’s company despite the task? Is it a slight possibility that Adi adores her more distinguished sister so much that she wants to be at her side as much as possible?

Given the surrounding evidence of the interactions between our girls, I think we might have to choose option c. You see, the first three things either daughter asks for every morning are mom, sister, and cereal. And if you knew the esteemed value cereal holds in our home, you could very well understand the magnitude of coming higher in rank than such a luxurious bowl of carbs. (Don’t worry, dad is #4!) It seems that Adi loves her sister with such a purity of heart that she just wants to be at her side, serving.

And here it is- another heart-pounding moment of theology learned in the throws of parenting. This lesson can be examined two ways. From one side, we see Adi’s adoration of her sister and her desire to be with her all the time. She wants to climb with her, play in her room, eat the same foods, run as fast, talk as clearly, and color as passionately. She doesn’t seem to care what Em is doing, just as long as she can be with her. The other side of this can be seen by looking at the willingness to serve a sentence she didn’t earn. Does this sound like someone else you know?

We should want to be at Jesus’ side, no matter the activity.
Jesus wants us near him so bad that he was willing to serve a sentence he didn’t earn.

So, I am sure my little Timeout Tag-a-long will shed her desire to share timeouts in the near future. But for now, it’s a great reminder that Jesus served a sentence he didn’t earn!

Twenty-one Sleepy Shuffles

My determined march is only 23 feet, 5 inches long. My sacrificial stroll is the same difference from my computer to the fridge.

So why is this walk so hard to happily hike?

Not to be over dramatic, but these 21 shuffles often require more from me than my 45 minute cardio workout. Perhaps it’s because this nightly jaunt is not completed per my own request, but rather by the needy cries of another. As any young mom knows, midnight feedings, 3am feedings, or 5am feedings are probably the hardest part of serving a small being weighing in only slightly more than a bag a potatoes. It’s a constant reminder that my nights (and days, for that matter) aren’t my own. My eating habits, to-do lists, shopping trips, and priorities have shifted greater than any other time in life…and all for the purpose of one.

My brain has now been trained to filter every detail of our family’s life around the needs of our half-pint. Do we have a diaper bag packed? Have the warm pajamas been washed yet? Will the restaurant have a high chair? Are baby noises accepted at this gathering? Did I remember to change my shirt covered in kid-ooze? Yadda, yadda.

So why is this march so tough to complete without complaint?

All theatrics aside, it’s hard because my will is not my own. My time is not my own. My sleep is not even my own anymore. (Geez, this sounds so self-centered…) As a mom, you give up your right to be #1. You are now serving another. Ephesians 6:7 says to “serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not men.” Truthfully though, this is not something I wanted to be reminded of at 3:37 in the morning when abruptly awakened and summoned crib-side. I remember many nightly walks pausing only momentarily to take a deep breath and whisper a quick, life-sustaining prayer as my feet hit the floor, when turning down the roaring baby monitor so my husband could keep sleeping or as I opened my bedroom door to cross the hall.

During these nights, I am obviously thankfully that Jesus knows my name (John 10:3). But I always find more comfort in the fact that my God is so tuned into the details of my life that he thought to remind us that “he gently leads those that have young” (Isaiah 40:11). Did you catch that? In the middle of our sacred scriptures, is a short, powerful, loving, tender passage reminding us that he fuels the fueler. He resources the source. He guides the guide. He nurtures the nurturers. He leads the leader. He tends to each one of his flock. Even me, as I make the sleepy shuffle only 23 ½ feet from my bed. Even me, as I pick up my tiny one and hold my breath when my sit down in the cold rocking chair knowing the chill will only last a short moment. Even me, as I fight not to fall asleep while feeding the baby in hopes that I won’t get a permanently crooked neck. Even me, as I gently lay my bundle of joy back in bed in deep slumber and silently cheer that I might get a few more hours of precious sleep. Yes, God cares about me and my slow surrender to another. God cares about me as I learn to submit myself to the needs of someone else. Absolutely, God cares that I am tired and must continue to plod on. I’m just so glad God cares.

Thankfully, my little spud sack is sleeping longer these days…

Baby Jee-su

Yesterday our girls received a nativity set just for them. The stable, Mary, Joseph (AKA-Jojo), a bale of hay, the donkey and cart (I'm not sure of the biblical accuracy of the cart...), the angel who sings “Away in the Manger” some shepherds, two sheep, and baby Jesus are all there to be strewn across the room and hidden in the couch cushions by the hands of a two-year old and a 9 month old…
To use the toy for purpose we intended, we sat down with our girls and shared the story of Jesus’ birth with them and did our best to focus Emma’s attention on the Baby Jesus. I am certain she got the point.
This morning, as any smart two year old would do, Emma immediately headed for the neatly arranged Nativity set and grabbed the Baby Jesus since she learned of his significance last night. And, as any smart younger sibling would do, Adi immediately knew she needed whatever Emma had in her hand. So, the race around the kitchen table began. A squealing baby wobblingly toddled behind Emma as she screamed, “Emma’s Baby Jee-su, Emma’s Baby Jee-su”. (FYI- Jee-su is pronounced ‘jee-’ as in “Jeep” and ‘-su’ as in “supper”)
Seeing as this all began happening within minutes of my feet hitting the floor, I wasn’t fully awake and ready to proactively parent appropriately. So, the repetitions began…
“Emma, that is not YOUR Jee-su, I mean Jesus!”
“You must share the Baby Jesus.”
“Emma, you must share the toys!”
“Adi, watch where you are running…wait, stop running with the plastic spoon…”
“Emma, I said you must share Jesus.”
By this point, I was getting really frustrated because it felt as if the natives were beginning to take over…and so early in the morning. So, out of a moment of parental exasperation, the punishment was handed down.
“Emma, you are in time-out for not sharing Jee-su.”
Tears began flowing when Emma had to give up rights to her new found favorite possession, her cup and her paci for the duration of her time-out sentence. And, since my brain was slowly waking up in the midst of this chaos, I remembered the importance of repeating to the child why she was put in time out. In my pj’s, I got down to her eye level and repeated her offense.
“Emma, you are in time-out for not sharing Jesus.”
And then it hit me. I was punishing my child for not sharing the baby Jesus toy with her little sister. It rattled around in my head again like a big echo. I was punishing my child for not sharing Jesus…

Two minutes later, time-out was over. After a quick reminder to share the baby Jesus with her sister, Emma received her cup and paci back and was allowed to return to playing with the nativity. And, as if it was rehearsed, Gil and I looked up at each other and said, “I wonder what would happen if everyone had to sit in time-out for not sharing Jesus.”

There you go. Another theology lesson learned in a moment of parenting. A reminder to share Baby Jee-su, I mean Jesus, with others…even before breakfast!

What would happen if Jesus was so important to us that he was the first thing we grabbed when we jumped out of bed each morning? What would happen if he was so dear to us that we would risk punishment just so we could love him tenderly? What would happen if we learned from a young age that we must share Jesus?

A Wedding Clipping

Last sunday, just like every other sunday, I read through the wedding announcements in the newspaper. One caught my eye. This particular bride had graduated from UVA with her masters degree in communications disorders and had taken a job as the speech-language pathologist for a public school system in Virginia. This statement about her life caught my attention because, according to my plan, this was going to be the path I was going to take after I graduated with my bachelors degree. I was really bothered by the fact that this girl is living the life I chose to walk away from to do fulltime ministry. I was also bothered that I was bothered...

Anyway, I have just been sitting on this and waiting for God to show me something about this. I know I have settled this in my heart and often fight down feelings of missing out of things "I could be doing". I love speech pathology and wonder why God would place such feelings and interests in my life if there was never anything for me to do about it. I also think about the money I could be giving away to others in ministry if I was earning it (by the boatloads) as a speech pathologist. But today God reminded me of something...

Mary worshipped Jesus with something valuable when she poured the perfume all over his feet. She baffled everyone around her because she was so willing to give up an entire lifes wages to Him. She gave up something that was so valuable to her. I am sure it was hard for her to give that up. I am also sure that she questioned, as I often do, why she had given that up to him....not that he didn't deserve that - and more- but because she was human and probably had to fight off the feelings of doubt afterwards. Perhaps it's horrible theology to think about her questions regarding her sacrifice, but I tend to wonder about the humanity and weaknesses of the people from the Bible we hold so high in our eyes. I am pretty sure she dealt with stinging feelings when she needed a little extra cash months and years after that powerful night with Jesus. I am confident that she got tired of explaining to people why she chose to do what she did that night. I bet she found herself shaking her head to erase thoughts of doubt knowing the entire time she had done the right thing for her King. But I am also pretty sure that at the end of the day, she was proud of the move she had made. Each time her needs were met financially or she smelled a frangrance similar to the perfume she spilled out for Jesus, she was absolutely confident she had done the right thing. Mary considered her gift an honor and was pleased to give it away to someone so worthy.

In another moment of poor theological practices, I am pretty sure the stinging feelings I get when my mind wanders to what I could own or give away with a different income could be similar to what Mary felt days and weeks after she worshipped Jesus that night. I am confident that the times I get almost annoyed with people who ask if I will ever use my degree in speech pathology are similar to the times Mary had she was asked to explain why she did what she did to honor Jesus that night. And I know that when I shake loose the selfish thoughts in my head about what I missing out on, I am in the same class of women -even just for a moment- as Mary. Good company I'd say.

So, to the newly engaged couple I read about last week, congrads on the next step in your life! And for the bride-to-be, thanks for filling in for me. Since you took that job, the kids in your county will have a great speech pathologist to help them learn what they need to know. And because you are there, I can be here- doing what God needs me to do. I can sincerely be happy for this new bride and her great life knowing that I am not the only one who has questioned big sacrifices for God. I bet each time Mary passed by a woman wearing a perfume even slightly similar to the one that filled that jar she poured out on Jesus' feet, she soaked up the fragrance deeply. Not so much because she loved the scent, but because it reminded her of her love for Jesus and how much more valuable he is compared to the worth of such desired possessions.