Monthly Archives: January 2014

•
A Guest Post
By Lori Lehrman

Are you ready?

For God to do something beyond imagination?

For God to bring women together in only ways that He can?

Then grab a chair, some coffee, and settle in because you guys I am so excited about this!

This is something I am extremely passionate about and I really have no reason to be. I don't know these women other than following their blogs & following them on twitter. But, I believe in their vision. I believe in what God has placed upon their hearts. Oh, I believe. They are women. Wives. Moms. Daughters. Sisters. Friends. They have a passion. They aren't afraid to dream. They have a calling and they are ready to live that out.

 

I can't remember exactly how I first learned about it or even when I first learned about it, but from the moment I did, I knew I had to be part of it.

 untitled (4)

 

IF:Gathering

 

Once I heard I had to know more.  Something about it resonated with me.  I had to read every post, every blog. Once they had a date out there it was in my calendar...yes, even the old school paper one I had (I've since joined the 21st century, thankyouverymuch!).

 

You see, I know I am not the only woman who was caught up in this IF movement.  The IF:Gathering ladies are on to something. They have struck a cord among women.  There is a need and IF is touching right on the center of it. A need for authenticity. A need for all women to come together without worrying about fitting in. A need to throw off everything that we've known and grasp hold of the unknown.

 

So, Monday comes...registration day! You guys, I. Am. Ready. I've got my computer set up. I've got my alarm set on my phone. I text my friend, Melissa. See, we had it all planned out...a little girl time and a whole lot of God time. I received the email that registration was open and bam, we were off. There were some technical issues that threw us for a loop at first, but it didn't hold us back for long. We refreshed our screens, entered the info in again and pushed register. We did this over & over & over.

 

Then Melissa texts me, "I got in! Keep trying. I am praying."

 

Oh man, the pressure was on. I am feverishly typing and praying and hitting the enter key. Over and over and over. My heart is pounding. "Please, God, You know how badly I want to go." Over and over and over.

 

Until...

 

I get the message... "Sold Out".

 

NO!!!

 

Tears began to flow. I know how dramatic this sounds. If you are reading this and rolling your eyes, I get it, I really do. But, I just had to be there. This IF:Gathering was tied to the time in my life that I finally answer God's call...when He asked me to step out on faith and follow Him and become a speaker/blogger for Him. There was a connection with this event and that calling. I felt that and I was devestated. I can't explain it.

 

Then I get this feeling...it's not over. You see the cool thing about the IF:Gathering is that they are making it available locally through a live simulcast. I knew this, but that wasn't MY plan. I immediately threw my arms across my chest and stomped my feet...yes, like a 3 year old saying "I don't wanna".

 

All along God had a different plan. MY plan was IF:Austin. HIS plan was IF:Local. I had to sit a while and come to grips with this. I'll be honest. It scared me to death. So many things ran through my head. So many what ifs...

 

I realized God was ready for me to step out of the boat again. Now I am ready. Ready to see that same vision be accomplished here...locally...IF:Southeast Texas! I couldn't just pick one city...would it be held in Port Arthur, Groves, Nederland or Port Neches? What about Beaumont? Or how about Bridge City? What if we got several groups together?!

 

How cool is that?! How cool is God? My heart is beating so crazy fast right now.

 

Are you ready? I want to welcome you to my home on Friday & Saturday, February 7 & 8...for a time of worship, teaching, communion, and authentic relationships with other women. It's new, there might be glitches, we might not know each other, but I will guarantee that it will be a sweet, fun time!

 

You can help us by being in prayer for God to open wide the doors not only here, but for IF everywhere. Let's see just what God can do throughout this world with women who are ready to live out their calling.

Feel free to email myself or Lori with questions

lori@carpentersway.com
kristiburden@gmail.com
 
Check out Lori's blog: http://lorilehrmann.wordpress.com/2014/01/15/271/

 

•

Ten years ago, shortly before I turned thirty, I went to the doctor. I was having migraines and muscle spasms and was constantly tired. I had two little ones and was teaching full-time, which actually kind of meant that I had twenty-something little ones.

Church activities kept me pretty busy too.

I talked Jason into going to my doctor's appointment with me in case the doctor had bad news. After a short description of my symptoms, the doctor started to scrawl on his prescription pad while casually diagnosing me with "mild depression". Tearful I told him, "I don't think I'm depressed. Jason proceeded to uneasily rub and pat my back, the tension in his fingers evident.

Rather than accept this diagnosis prematurely, I prayed and tried to remove stressful unecessaries (needless activities and responsibilities) from life. The "spell" was short-lived.

I've thought back to that moment in the doctor's office often. It's the first time I remember getting the "I'm Patting Your Back because I Know You Need Me to do Something and I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT ELSE TO DO" pat.

I've received many more of them through the past ten years from my husband. And the doctor? He was supposed to be the one to give me the solution to my ailment, and I left feeling ten times worse. My dad has said, "Your doctor is not your friend".

I have the most awesome men in my life. I couldn't do without the strength Jason provides. He's my best friend.  He's a buffer when I become stark-raving mad.

My brother calls every couple of weeks just to check on things.

The men in my life, namely, Jason, my dad,  my guy in laws in the family, and even Hayden have a way of bringing perspective to the chaos reminding me that things aren't quite as bad as I think.  Hayden has "a look" that alerts me that I've gone crackers.

When I see it, I know to rein in the emotions. Because the emotion is sometimes just too much for the boys to handle.

I need my girl friends.

In my millions of "moments", my guys react in three ways.  They give me:

1. The "awkward pat"

2. The "you've lost it look"

3. (Often used with #1 and #2) The "awkward silence"

All three reactions let me know that my temporary instability is at the same time familiar, foreign and frightening to them.

A text with a friend
A text with a friend

My girl friends know where I'm coming from. They're not afraid that "something's wrong with me" when I cry during a prayer,…or a Cotton commercial.

They're not shocked when I fall apart over something seemingly trivial like the filth in the kids' bathroom. They have moments too when they cry over spilled milk (literally).

And they often fall apart when they think their kid's teacher doesn't like their kid,.... or their kid lies to them.

Often when they're falling apart (because their kid is doing bad in school or because their daughter didn't get invited to the party), I'm "going there" with them. Because I've been there before, or because that well of emotion that lies deep within all women helps me to imagine their pain…..or anger……or confusion.

Unlike men, we gals do go to the bathroom together. We shop and we eat together. We "go there" together.

We talk about everything. We talk about nothing.
We talk about everything. We talk about nothing.

I recently went to doctor again with some of the same troubles that I had ten years ago; constant headaches, fatigue and irritability. This doctor, much like the one ten years ago, without much inquiry, wrote an order for some blood tests with a one word diagnosis at the top of the order, "Menopausal".

Having learned the value of friendship more through the years, I sent a screen shot of my diagnosis to several of my friends. Every one of them could relate or laugh at such a simplistic and mysterious diagnosis. Their shared laughter was healing balm.  We women are complicated.

One of the things we need is each other.

We need sisters who can listen when we need to emote about our families' inability to pick up their socks from the living room floor.

We need girls who will cheer with us when we our son makes a "B" in Physics or our daughter gets her weekly shots without a fit or a tear.

We look to ladies who can't fix it, but can feel our pain when we face battles.

We look to stories of moms who've "been there" and overcome dark times.

We depend on the prayers of friends who genuinely care about our marriages.

I met with a gal on Monday. We've had less than a handful of conversations. But we met because we have a common interest; building community among women. We chatted excitedly about an upcoming local event that will take place February 7th and 8th.

She agreed to write a guest blog to tell you all about it. Look for it this Thursday, January 30. When we were saying goodbye, we shared once more our desire for women to unite. We agreed in the need for women to become transparent. We decided that as women,.... with the things we go through, we can almost always relate. And even when we can't relate or speak words of wisdom, as I told her in parting words, "Sometimes we just need someone who we can "awkward laugh" with.

 

 

 

• 1 Comment

•

I was sitting in a church pew just the other day when someone came up from behind me and shared some bad news. I might mention that it was the fifth time I'd heard bad news in a weeks' time concerning deaths, in, or related to our church family. Rather than turn around and speak words of wisdom or comfort, I simply, and quite audibly, groaned.

As she walked away, I thought, "What a way to respond!" I feared how my response may have been taken. I could have hugged her. Or said something compassionate. But in all honesty, as I sat in that church pew I realized how emotionally dehydrated I was and relied on hope that she knew my groan was a mournful one. Loss has a way of stripping us of words.

It's rare that I find myself speechless; more often I'm regretting something I did say.

Yesterday Hallie and I did a little devotion on the Holy Spirit. It started out with scripture from Matthew 3 where Jesus is being baptized. It says that after the baptism

As Jesus came up out of the water, the heavens were opened and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and settling on him. v16

I couldn't get past the start of the devotion. My mind was stuck on the image of that dove. God's gentle presence was made known by the Holy Spirit who "settled" on Jesus. Words were spoken from heaven (about eleven of them), but they weren't blasted on a bullhorn and the words were short and sweet.

We don't always have to know what to say.

In our compassion for the broken we often feel like we have to come up with the perfect words of comfort. Many of us have found ourselves avoiding, or wanting to avoid people or situations when we don't have the words.

I remember distinctly the time of the Columbine massacre in Colorado where twelve students and one teacher were murdered by Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. The day after,  I sat at my computer at school staring at an online site where people were leaving messages of encouragement to the family and friends of those directly impacted. I wanted to say something, anything as I watched the screen's cursor I'd placed in the message box beat in rhythm with my pounding chest. What can possibly be said to someone whose entire world has just been stripped from beneath their feet? I wanted to share God, a prayer with the broken. But what? Upon a panicked scramble through the Bible I found this most treasured verse

….. the Spirit helps us in our weakness……the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.

Romans 8:26

That's what I wrote in the message box. It was also the response I sent to my high school friend who'd emailed me as in shock as I was. And it was my response to the lady bearing bad news while I sat in the church pew earlier this week. I groaned, thankful that the Holy Spirit is settled on me. Grateful that Holy Spirit helps me in times of weakness and prayerfully speaks to God for me.

He speaks to those I love for me too.  In times that we don't have the right words, and we have the sense not to try to find them, I believe the Spirit ministers on our behalf. We only need ask or acknowledge His presence. Maybe it will be through a hug. It may be through a pained smile or simply through being there.

Cast me not away from your presence,

and take not your Holy Spirit from me.

Psalm 51:11

Jesus asked that John baptize him saying, "It should be done, for we must carry out all that God requires". Jesus had knowledge of the required road; a difficult and painful road that led to the cross. But along that road, he had the gentle presence of a dove.

We have the same presence. The Holy Spirit is settled on us and it stirs within us. It stills our souls and mourns on our behalf. The Holy Spirit spills over to those we feel so helpless to minister to. So we need not worry about what to pray,… God might rather we listen. We don't need to stress when words are few or don't come at all. I can hear almost hear him say. Let your words be few. Be still and know that I am God. It's sometimes the best way for other people to know I am there.

• 1 Comment

•

I got this little jewel on a notecard some time this past summer. I think it was one morning when a little cranky girl and big cranky girl collided.

"I whant to star over",

the note begged. And I obliged, because we all want the chance to start again.

Do overs aren't always an option. I remember back in third grade, it was the end of the school year and we were about to have a trackmeet of sorts. The coach who was also our recess teacher impulsively told us girls, all five or six of us, to line up on the playground. He told us to run as fast as we could for about twenty yards to a concrete slab past the swings. I trucked it as fast as my little arms and legs would allow.

And I came in dead last.

The coach grabbed the first four that finished, fashioning the third and fourth grade sprint relay. My cousin looked at me disappointedly, so I told her I'd gotten a little tripped up (which may or may not have been a teeny lie). My champion defender, she told coach that we needed a do over....... to which he did not oblige. I think that may have been the dead-end of my dreams for a sprinting career.

Dead-Ends and the Chance to Begin Again

My dead-end, on a good day, comes around 9:00 PM. This morning the kids and I had to do a "start over" by 7:15 AM. Approximately five minutes after we had done a short devotion on the power of the Holy Spirit, I was reminded of the power of the will. I heard one kid yelling at the other to "Shut up" and one kid taunting another because they couldn't have Cookie Crisp for breakfast. By 7:18 we tried again to have breakfast peacefully and pleasantly (with the help of the Holy Spirit).

God offers "do overs".

Because we fail

We tire out

We get "a little tripped up".

Sometimes we find ourselves wishing we could start over. Or we want to quit altogether.

Grace-The gift of a new day

We don't have to look any farther than creation described in Genesis to see how God brought newness to space that was "formless and empty".  What I took particular notice of this time in reading these familiar verses on creation, was that God is in the business of separating things. On the first day, He separated light from darkness. The second day he separated the waters of the heavens from the waters of the earth. He called the expanse in between sky. It was the fourth day when God put light in the sky to separate the day and night.

Look at all the times the word separate is used.

Separate-cause to be apart. God gave us each day; one apart from the other.  Maybe the verse that sticks out the most is the fifth verse.

and evening passed and morning came, marking the first day.

Genesis 1:5

I'm thankful that evening passes. And that by His grace, morning ALWAYS comes.

This the day that the LORD has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24

It doesn't say a day or another day. Today is the day sisters and brothers. Where is your gladness? Are you going to rejoice?

A picture referencing Joshua hanging in my house says, Choose you this day whom you will serve…..

A life of praise is our goal, but a life of praise is built on our willingness to wake up each day making the choice to acknowledge Him. There will be many days we find ourselves unsuccessful in this endeavor even if we woke up with good intentions.

A new day gives us new opportunity to do what we failed to do yesterday; there's a new path springing from our dead-end. Sure a new day often brings with it consequences from yesterday and responsibilities waiting to meet you. But our momentary troubles pass us by, while the ceaseless love of Christ goes on.

-the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-24

So like they say, "Take the bull by the horns".

Carpe diem- Seize the day! The day is waiting.

The gift of twenty four hours is yours. What will you do with this grace gift?

• 2 Comments

•

I've worked in Day Cares and church nurseries enough to see countless block towers sabotaged. I bet you've seen them too. A child constructs a tower by tediously placing blocks one by one and then someone comes along and knocks it over. And the result is always the same, the tower builder is devastated. I can't tell you how many kids I've had to console over crashed towers. I also couldn't count the times I've warned kids to stay away from someone's tower lest they accidentally knock it over.

I knocked over Hallie's tower this morning. I didn't mean to. In fact, I helped her build it all day yesterday.

She had EDA today. Don't ask me what that stands for, but I know it's a contest where she reads poetry and prose and performs dramatically. It's really important to her; so important that she asked me to wake her up at five-something this morning so she could be ready.

Yesterday I picked her up from school and we headed to the mall. I offered to buy her the pair of shoes she's been wanting since last Fall. She needed new shoes (Shallow or not, I think every girl knows that wearing something new gives you a little extra flair). She was thrilled. We had stimulating conversation. We talked about how her little sister had been hurt by some unkind words at school. We talked about the power of words. She helped me pick out some picture frames for my new bookshelf, we then ended our short date with a Coke and some chocolate. I was so happy to have had the time to invest in her, particularly with her having a big day the next day. Last night as she rehearsed I beamed with her as she recited her monologue about having Wonderbread stuck in her braces. She's practiced for days.

She bolstered out of bed this morning and was ready in near fifteen minutes. She walked in with her hair in a high bun. I reminded her that she'd said last night that she was going to wear it in a low, side bun, my favorite way she wears her hair. And then as she left the room, it occurred to me that she was ready, but hadn't washed her hair.

And that's when I crashed her tower.

With urgency I knocked on the bathroom door jogging her memory of the condition of her hair when she doesn't wash it daily. Giving her a picture of herself as an impending greasy mess, I made her wash her hair so she "might be presentable" to a panel of judges. In less than two minutes I demolished an entire framework of confidence building and the effort I'd put in to let her know how valued she is. No. This morning, all she heard was I don't care how good your acting is, your appearance doesn't cut it. Those aren't the words I used, but I'm pretty sure that's what she heard.

We expect small children to wrecklessly destroy towers, but we never expected we'd be moms destroying our own kids' towers.

Towers can be rebuilt, but the more a tower has to be put together again piece by piece, the more that tower is going to be guarded. Towers aren't always built easily.unnamed (14)

Everybody wants their tower to be safe.

Moms are good at helping their children build towers. We clap and cheer them on.  We speak words of unconditional love and affirmation into their lives, only to undo those words when we barge into their safe zone and speak wrecklessly.

When Hallie was four, I sat in the kitchen floor with typing paper and a pencil. I'd told her countless times before how smart she was. I showed her how to write her name step by step in teacher fashion. I teacher-talked her through the "H", "pull down, pull down, and across". I helped her through each letter. But the marks she made on the paper in no way resembled my well-formed letters. I will never forget swiping the pencil out of her reach. She hasn't forgotten either as she's reminded me numerous times. I crashed her tower.

Behaviors have to be demolished, attitudes have to be taken down and mistakes should be corrected, but as Moms, we have to figure out how to do that without crushing their spirits. I read a blog just the other day about a Mom who has overcome yelling. She was writing from a sweet place relating about the improved health of her family. I'm not writing from that place. I'm writing from a place I believe many of you find yourself in. As Paul says in Romans 7:15-

I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.

We're our kids biggest fans, but we're still sometimes their biggest "Boo" section. Our kids will have enough nay-sayers in their lives without us being one of them.

So what do we do?

  1. We do the obvious thing. We pray about it. Not just when we've fouled up majorly. We make it a matter of daily prayer asking God to help us in our speech, and keep us from our condescending looks. We ask God to remove those unnecessary and critical thoughts that creep into our brains and right out our mouths.
  2. We ask our friends to pray. I'm slightly embarrassed to admit my austerity, but I know I'm in good company. By that, I mean that there are good moms out there that say stupid things while wildly loving their kids. And I know those moms would pray for me rather than dub me a bad mom.
  3. We have to be willing to apologize. I apologized to Hallie this morning. Twice. Though I know it wasn't an immediate fix to her self-esteem, she knows that I know the mistake was mine. I tried to get the point across to her that my words were wrong, not her appearance.
  4. We bite the unnecessary words on our tongues.  As my dad says, choose your battles.  Some words or conversations aren't needful.  Rylie came prancing downstairs this morning in two shades of pink (that equaled awful) just as she was about to go out with her daddy.  I swallowed my disapproval.  Does what she's wearing really matter? 
  5. When words are necessary, choose them carefully.  Because we need help with that, we must write words of wisdom on our hearts. Proverbs speaks right to us moms.

Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear. Ephesians 4:29

A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Proverbs 15:1

There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing. Proverbs 12:18

Set a guard , O Lord, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips. Psalm 141:3

6.  We forgive ourselves. I'd be so bold to say that we moms have all made the mistake of using abusive speech once, if not a thousand times. Wallowing in shame does nothing to better our parenting. Giving our weakness to A God who understands and heals, is our only recourse.

I'm lucky Hallie has a strong will. I'm thankful that my children recover more quickly than I deserve. I'm thankful for grace in parenting that helps rickety towers to stand and allows toppled towers to be rebuilt.

Side note: Hallie approved this message.  And she's going to State in EDA!

• 3 Comments

•

Get wisdom; get insight; do not forget, and do not turn away from the words of my mouth. Do not forsake her, and she will keep you; love her and she will guard you. Proverbs 4:5-6

I'm helping with ESL (English as a Second Language) half days at Helena Park. I love it. I work with a handful of really cool third and fourth graders. The innocent banter between one fourth grade boy and myself brings me unexpected joy. He has a collection of smooth sayings. For instance, if he answers a question really quickly before I have the chance to explain the question he smiles announcing, "You just got burned". Sometimes with a self-approving look he says, "Aww, yeah". I love his spirit.

Yesterday, though, was a different story. Most likely due to his disrupted sleeping patterns during the holidays, he was a little off his "A game". I had to assist him a little more than usual. He, like most of the students I encountered this week, seemed slightly sluggish. So when he answered a problem incorrectly, I explained the problem and then threw my arms up gangster style and said, "You just got learned". I don't know, but I think it was pretty effective.

Yesterday after school, it was just me and my girls. The oldest' birthday is coming up in several weeks, so some planning was in the making. I proposed going to Painting with a Twist. My daughter loves painting and I've kind of wanted to check the place out myself. My idea was immediately, but kindly dismissed.

"They tell you what to paint," she scoffed. "I really like to paint what I feel like painting."

 

"But you might learn something, like a new technique," I offered.

 

Then comes the honest reply, "I don't really like to learn."

 

"What!" I gasped.

 

Both girls started to chant, giggling "We don't like to learn, We don't like to learn………"

It was as I was feigning shock at the absurdity of their mantra that I realized the apples don't fall far from the tree. Truthfully, I don't like to learn all that much. I want to do things the way I want to do them. I'm comfortable with what I already know. There's vulnerability in the newness of learning ( I might not get it right). Learning can be painful.; sometimes humbling.

If you love learning, you love the discipline that goes with it-how shortsighted to refuse correction!

Proverbs 12:1

To think that you can work hard to deepen your well of knowledge, only to hear God say that your lack of willingness to learn more means that you're being shortsighted..... Ouch.

Learning takes up too much of my precious time. It means that I have to be still. It means that I have to temporarily cease the pouring out of my knowledge….. shamefully I rather enjoy doing that. As I listened to the girls chanting (much after they were finished), that fourth grade boy appeared in my head. He threw up his arms gangster-style, and smiling, said, "You just got learned".

Yesterday I was learned ( reminded rather) that I still need to be learning.

I need more books in my life to inspire my monotonous inner and outer dialogues.

(More time in THE book)

Talking is pouring out, in which case I should be pretty empty. Listening is filling up. I need to do more listening.

My prayer word count could stand to decrease too. I hardly take the time to actually listen to what God may want to say to me.

I want to learn more often from my experiences; better shaping tomorrow.

…for everything that was written in the past was written to teach us

Romans 15:4

I want my opinion and thoughts to matter less and for my understanding of things and people outside my realm to grow.

Maybe I could better inspire little minds by my desire to know more and not by what I think I already know.

I want to know… that I don't always know. And in the mystery and with the questions I want to search for The Answer,……you know the one.

 

There was never found in any age of the world, either philosopher or sect, or law or discipline which did so highly exalt the public good as the Christian faith.

–Francis Bacon

 

 

• 4 Comments

•

It's a new year. I always start the year, a mixed bag of emotions. I feel nervous, but excited......overwhelmed at all the empty white calendar squares with the possibilities and responsibilities they hold. Speaking of those calendar squares,

I have a job!

Not a new job per say, but I have a real job. An important one. I was born for it....

It's the same job I had last year, but it's a pretty good one so I thought it worth mentioning. Really, the same job was mine when I was in diapers and it remains mine today even when I stink things up (like I did when I was in diapers). I don't really know the official title for it (um, maybe Christian?), but my job description is really quite simple; bring God glory. That's it. I didn't have to interview for it or turn in a resume'. With God aim, it fell in my lap.

I can do my "bringing God glory" job wherever I find myself. I'm allowed, rather encouraged, to work at home And I can work while I'm driving down Nederland Ave or over nachos at Carmelas.

I have a thousand  other things I do like being a wife, a mom, a coworker, a life coach, a daughter, a sister, a teacher, a chauffeur, a counselor, a chef, a maid, an activity planner, a nurse and a friend, to mention a few. Those jobs compete to fill up the white squares I mentioned earlier. But I got to thinking today. When I'm working really hard at being an awesome mom, I'm usually lacking in the friend department which may explain why I forgot to call you on your birthday or to check and see how your doctor appointment went. If I'm a really good maid, I'm talking I spent hours spiffying the place up, you can bet I'm going to score poorly in the mom department. Especially if you spill something on the floor. My chauffeur job takes away from my nurse job and my activity planning keeps me so busy that sometimes I forget I'm a wife. And that doesn't even cover my work outside the home.

Back to my "bringing God glory job".

I was thinking fresh thoughts today (It is January, right?). Bringing glory to God is truly THE job. It's the job from which all other jobs should stem. There aren't that many mom bible verses. I've looked.  The bible does, however, provide some examples of Godly women.  Those women are all about bringing glory to God more than they are the other "stuff". The bible doesn't prescribe the perfect maid. I haven't found that much direction in scripture on activity planning.

It's not that all of my other jobs aren't important. The thing is, if I am truly seeking to bring God glory, then God will make me into the wife, mom and woman he intends for me to be. He might even fire me from a couple of those other jobs I don't need to be doing in the first place. Hallelujah.

2014 is feeling a little freer.

Here's a little motivation to get after it in 2014 from the job-giver himself:

Whoever speaks, is to do so as one who is speaking the utterances of God; whoever serves is to do so as one who is serving by the strength which God supplies, so that in all things God may be glorified through

Christ Jesus, to whom belongs the glory and dominion forever and ever. 1 Peter 4:11

…..but grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be the glory both now and to the day of eternity. Amen. 2 Peter 3:18

Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. 1 Corinthians 10:31

 

 

Yet, with respect to the promise of God, he did not waver in unbelief but grew strong in faith, giving glory to God. Romans 4:20

I will praise the name of God with song and magnify Him with thanksgiving. Psalm 69:30

Because your lovingkindness is better than life, My lips will praise You. Psalm 63:3

For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever. Romans 11:36

 

So the moms, the waitresses, the teachers, the wives, the diva wannabes, the clerks, the minivan drivers and the calendar square fillers said

Amen.

• 4 Comments

•

I've always been pretty good at spelling. As a child I boasted that Spelling was my favorite subject. I have an uncanny ability to spot spelling mistakes.  I'm pretty sure that if Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnet 43 had a single misspelling, that's what I'd absorb rather than the beauty of the poetry. Sad, I know.

Anytime I spend days with my sisters, like I've had the chance to the past two weeks, I find out things about myself. We're sometimes shockingly honest with each other. My little sister told me this past week that she had always hated asking me to read over her school papers. She's insisted, more than once, that she would ask me to look merely at the semantics of her paper but that I'd jump on a misspelling like a hungry flea on a dog in July. She's right.

My other sister called me Ms. Corrector for years due to my willingness to freely point out things like a misspoken word (such as aurora instead of aura). In case you're wondering, I didn't make up the aura example.  Someone in the car on our Girls' Day last week actually said aurora instead of aura.  I kept quiet about it for a good hour before I couldn't take it any longer.  And when I told the misspeaking sister about her mistake I unintentionally, but self-righteously (no doubt) spewed laughter. Thank goodness she loves me.  And that I'm not disinvited from future Girls' Days.

Really, I do my best to refrain from correcting.

Even so, when someone makes a written or verbal mistake, a smirk outside my control curls on my lips. I fret thinking there are others of you out there who have been smote by my correction.

I found myself singly entertained by a sign taped on a bathroom stall during Girls' Day. I snapped the picture, surely freaking out any people on the other side of the stalls with the blink of my flash.unnamed (10)

Just days before, I'd gotten a look from the waitress at a Mexican food restaurant when I tried to snap a picture of a humorous mistake on the menu.

Looking back, I subscribed to Highlights magazine as a kid. Maybe I looked at one too many of those "What's wrong with this picture".  You know, the one where a duck is wearing galoshes? I single-handedly tore up that page monthly, circling errors with my trusty ink pen.

Jason has forbidden me to read one of his posts before it's published and the kids despise my helping them with their homework lest I let loose a giggle at their mistake.

I will continue to laugh rendering myself "temporarily out of order". Hopefully my laughter will not be at the expense of others.

Because you could say I have a problem. With the help of my "call it like it is" sisters and the imagined disapproval of the waitress and lady behind said bathroom stall,

I am convicted of my correcting audacity. 

My apologies.

But it's been made known the error of my own way and I'm glad to say I'm making a fresh start.

I want to see people and situations through grace lenses; not through my error-seeking eyes.  I want to spot bright and beautiful on a landscape of dull.

I'm set on focusing more clearly on what's right, despite my history of pointing out the wrong.

Philippians chapter four draws me in time and time again directing my thoughts.

Finally, brothers and sisters, .........whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things Philippians 4:8

To be able to see beauty where imperfection exists; this is the gift of grace.

 

A note: I am trying to write about grace in the upcoming weeks. I'm hoping to be able to publish an ebook with a collection of my reflections on this great gift from God.  I wanted to wait until I knew exactly what I would say before I started writing, but I realize that I must begin the journey of writing in simple humility and wonder. I trust that a desire to be taught by God's Word (paired with discipline) and the experiences I am granted will guide my pen. Say a bunch of prayers for the discipline part for me, would you?