The Prayers I Pray Everyday

Legos….  I don’t know how big a part of your life these little blocks are.  I don’t know if you have fond memories of building things with them or of watching your kids play.  Maybe not.  Maybe you hate them.  Maybe you step on them in the middle of the night and wonder how such a small piece of plastic can bring so much pain.  Maybe you have ruined a vacuum or two because of them.  Maybe you have searched for the right “(microscopic) gun for this guy” or “(microscopic) hair for this girl” too many times to appreciate the magic of Legos any more.  If you are not in the height of Lego world right now let me tell you, they have come a long way.  Now they all come in sets to build specific ships, towns, buildings, or vehicles.  There are also approximately 2,043 Lego shows on Netflix, 5 million YouTube videos, and a movie for goodness sakes.  I know Legos.

For my 10-year-old guy it is all Legos all the time.  I think for Christmas and his January birthday he received every Star Wars Force Awakens Lego set.  These $100 boxes are filled with 20 plus bags filled with thousands of tiny pieces that all come together to make a Millennium Falcon or At At Walker.  (I know Star Wars too.)  And this kid blows me away every single time.  He won’t start a set until he knows he has ample time to finish the whole thing.  For example, he saved the Falcon for Spring Break.  He sits down on his floor, door closed, and for hours he goes through every page in the instruction manual, every tiny piece, step by step until he emerges with the whole ship.  This amazes me because he cannot seem to pass a math test and yet…. Anyway, his room is completely filled with these precious masterpieces.  In fact, when we moved to the Ranchito the room we chose for him was the one with all the built-in shelves for this very reason.  (Books?  Who needs books?)   So, my 10 year old son has a 5-year-old brother that has no idea he is 5.  He wants to watch, do, play, be all the same things his brother watches, does, plays, and is.  This, of course, includes Legos.  So little brother has received some very paired down versions of big brother’s sets.  (But NOT DUPLO!!! Don’t be trying to pull any of those BABY LEGOS on him!!!!)    Here is the problem.  He is in fact 5 years old.  He does a pretty good job with the Legos but he cannot do what his brother can.  His little hands just can’t quite work the same.  So inevitably about 10 times a day he becomes frustrated with a piece he can’t get on, or one that keeps falling off, or the ship that has fallen and broken and comes to me crying.  I send him straight to Big Brother because there is no way I know what is supposed to go where.  Nope, Big Brother is the master builder in our house.

What does all this have to do with my prayer life?  Well, the other morning as I tip-toed (okay, maybe stumbled a little) out to my quiet prayer spot in the pre-dawn fog, I found my mind and heart a little foggy too.  I couldn’t quite finish a thought all the way through.  I felt like there were so many things that needed prayer and the Father’s attention.  The kids’ tests today, her attitude, my friend’s marriage, my husband’s job, and all the activities tonight…. Jesus, please.  Anxiously my heart raced beneath it all.  And then I had this little vision.  I pictured myself hauling a big box of thousand of Lego pieces boldly into the throne room of my Heavenly Father (Hebrews 4:13).  In the silence of my living room I could almost hear the unmistakable crash of the box being emptied (you know the one, Moms) in front of God.  I saw myself pouring out all the pieces of my anxious heart… My husband, each one of my 4 children, their worries and concerns, my tribe, their families, my community, my dreams, even the soccer and baseball practices, ballet rehearsal, and T-ball game that were charted for today…. There I sat, in the middle of the pieces.  It looked like a big fragmented mess to me.  I didn’t know how to make sense of it.  I had lost the instruction manual.  I didn’t even know what all those pieces were suppose to build in the end.   But here is the thing, I was presenting them to the Master Builder.  He not only had the instruction manual, he wrote it.  He not only knew what to do with the pieces, He created them.

Prayer is my passion.  I am serious about prayer.  I have journals and notebooks and strategies.  I fight hard in prayer.  But sometimes I just can’t find my way and all I have is a big mess of pieces.  I have found three scriptures that I pray EVERY SINGLE DAY help ground me no matter where I am.   Maybe they will help you too as you drag your mess before the Master Builder.

“Teach us (me)  to number our (my) days (today) aright, that we (I) may gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalms 90:12.  Yes, Lord.  Teach me to number this day aright.  Show me what is important to get done and what is not.  Show me where I am most needed and where I can let it go.  Calm my anxious heart and replace it with a heart of wisdom as I look at this to do list, as I field these responsibilities, as I steward these children, as I seek to please You and bear fruit for Your kingdom.  Jesus, just show me how to get the tacos on the table before we have to leave for the game.  Show me how to be in two places at once.  Number my steps, my priorities, my words, my prayers correctly today so that when I lay my head down tonight I may have gained a bit more wisdom in this frazzled heart.

Equip me today as “God’s workmanship created in Christ Jesus to do good works (today), which God prepared in advance for us (me) to do (today).”  Ephesians 2:10.  Jesus, I never want to lose sight of the fact that we walk this faith out for real, on the real ground, in the middle of our real days, with the real people you have put in our lives.  I know that you have created me and though I am not saved BY my good works but by Your grace, I have been saved FOR good works that you have planned for me to do.  I acknowledge that you not only have a plan for my life and my legacy, but you have a plan for my day- today!  Equip me to accomplish those good works.  Illuminate those good works for me today.  Show me the person who needs a simple smile, create the space I need for listening to my children, give me the words I need for the hurting friend.  Make me ever mindful that I am your workmanship, your handiwork, your masterpiece.  Help me protect my witness when I am frustrated, or anxious, or sad, or hurried.  I know that my life is simply made up of all my todays so show me those good works and equip me in them- TODAY.

“If your Presence doesn’t go with us (me) don’t send us (me) up from here. ”  Exodus 33:15.  Lord, if I am trying to head in a direction today, be it in my head, my heart, my car, my conversations that your Presence is not, stop me.   If my desires for myself, my family, my tribe do not match your best for them, for me, make it clear.  I only want to be on the road with you.  Lead me.  Show up.  Give me the wisdom to turn off all the distractions and listen for Your still, small voice saying, “this is the way, walk in it.” (Isaiah 30:12).  Because in the end, tonight as I turn off the last light and clear the Aussies off the bed to find a spot, it wont matter what I have gotten done or checked off my to do list if your Presence has not been with me the whole way.  Humble me and quiet me every step along the way so that I remember YOU are my very great reward (Genesis 15:1).

These are the pieces that I dump before The Lord each morning.  These are the prayers I check back in with as the rollercoaster of my day starts it’s climb and then rushes down.  Teach me to number this day aright, equip me for Your good works today, only let me venture where Your Presence is leading.  I am like my littlest…. My hands can’t quite work all of the pieces.  I don’t know where it is all supposed to fit.  I don’t always have the big picture of what my day, my walk, my family, my life is supposed to turn out like in the end.  But God is so much more that a big brother that is a little bit farther down the line.  He is THE Master Builder.  He has manual and the picture and the patience to get down in the mess with us.  Allow Him to take that first piece and then find the next one and the next and watch what He can build with our fragments.    So, dump all of your pieces out before Him.  Don’t be afraid of the crash or the mess.  He isn’t.   He has a great plan not only for your life, but for today.  Give it to the Master Builder and let Him do His thing.

Gather the Manna

My little flock of mixed chickens are pretty easy to care for.  Once a day I go out to the coop and refill their food, maybe bring them a treat, say hello, and gather the eggs.  But out here in West Texas the biggest need those birds have is water.  In the winter their water is frozen, in the summer it evaporates.  Therefore, checking their water is something that needs attention more often.  My husband thought that the solution to the water problem was to buy a bigger waterer.  So, once when I came home from a weekend away, (the only time the hubs deals with the chickens at all) I found a huge, new waterer in the coop.  At first glance I agreed that this was a great idea…. then I tried to move it.   You see, when the giant waterer is filled, I cannot budge the thing.  (You know, because I’m not Country Strong).  We have had a lot of sloshing and heaving and a few chicken baths since the new waterer.

The other frustrating thing about it is that it easily gets clogged up.  Oftentimes I will come out and guiltily notice that the little ring around the bottom is empty and dusty and my girls have no water.  But, when I open the top I find that it is filled to the brim.  The tiny hole that allows the life-giving H2O to flow from the large supply has been clogged by a bit of dirt or hay.  Though the container can hold more than enough water for all of my chickens to live on for days, it does them absolutely no good if it is not accessable to them.  If we were not there to take it apart and clean it out, my girls could die of thirst with gallons of water right next to them.

Do you remember the Israelites’ 40 year jaunt in the wilderness?  I feel like their journey is filled with inexhaustible life lessons for us, and as much as I would like to shake some sense into them, I can see myself in their foolishness so many times.  One such occasion is the story of the manna.  In Exodus 16 we find the Israelite community 2 months into their caravan towards freedom.  Please keep in mind that the Lord had just rescued them from Egypt after 400 years of harsh slavery.  Remember that just 60 days ago they had walked across the Red Sea on dry ground. This is where we find them.  Exodus 16:2-3 says, “In the desert the whole community grumbled against Moses and Aaron.  The Israelites said to them, ‘If only we had died by the Lord’s hand in Egypt!  There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted. but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death.”  Now, I’m not sure what “pots of meat” are but I am totally sicked out…. Sorry.   Anyway, drama much Israelites?  I’m sure Moses and Aaron probably said those exact words.  But the same gracious heavenly Father that heard their cries for freedom, performed plagues and miracles on their behalf, led them with a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night did not strike them down in their wining and drama.  Instead in 16:4-5 He says to Moses, “I will rain down bread from heaven for you.  The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day.  In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions.  On the sixth day they are to prepare what they bring in, and that is to be twice as much as they gather on the other days.”

This was the manna from heaven.  The word manna literally means “what is it” because they had never seen anything like it before.  They were hungry and The Lord provided.  But as we pass over this perhaps well-worn story we may miss a key element to His provision.  He literally rained down the substance that they were in need of but then He gave them the instructions to gather it.  You see, I think it is important to point out that God could have cured their hunger in a number of ways.  He could have quelled their hunger supernaturally.  He could have just stopped their physical need for food and kept them satisfied indefinitely.  In fact He did this very miracle with their clothes and shoes.  In Deuteronomy 8:4 it says, “Your clothes did not wear out and your feet did not swell during these forty years.”  So God actually, miraculously caused their clothes and shoes to remain intact for 40 years of extreme conditions and harsh wear and tear.  Could He have not done the same in their stomachs?  Could He have not let the last Egyptian “pot of meat” or the Passover meal they ate before their escape fill them for 40 years?  He could have, certainly, but that is not how He chose to sustain them.  He could have just produced the manna right in their tent.  Every night while they slept the manna could have just appeared in their jars within the tent.  That is not what He did either.

He did a miracle and He provided for their needs but He also gave them instructions on how to procure this miracle.  He said, “gather the manna.”  What would gathering the manna have entailed for the Israelites?  They would have to physically get up everyday but the Sabbath, leave their tents, walk outside, and do the work of gathering.  The provision of the bread of heaven would do them no good until they gathered it.  They could have laid in their tents and cried out in hunger with manna right outside their door.

It makes me wonder if some of us are praying for a miracle, or provision, or perhaps a blessing and all the while it is outside the flap of our tent of isolation or despair.  Maybe you are desperate to find your tribe, to be a part of real community…. maybe you feel like you are dying of loneliness.  And yet, your schedule is so full that if a best friend dropped out of the sky today you wouldn’t have time for coffee.  Maybe your tent is fear, insecurity, a critical spirit, selfishness….. You sit inside praying for kinship, for company, for friendship and God is saying, “gather the manna.”  Get up.  Get out.  Be brave.  Be selfless.  Sacrifice a little of yourself.  Do the work.  Gather the manna.  Perhaps you are longing for a relationship with Christ that is full of faith and power and yet you remain within the tent boundaries of your current experiences and knowledge.  He may be standing right outside asking you to come gather the manna.  Get up an hour earlier and spend time with Him.  Be intentional about prayer.  Clear your schedule for a Bible Study.  Stretch your brain and read something by an ancient saint.  Memorize scripture.  Turn off the radio and listen to a sermon.  Gather the manna.  A relationship with Christ does not happen by osmosis.  You cannot simply put your Bible under your pillow at night and attend church once a week and walk in any real power and faith.  But He is not trying to make it difficult.  He has done the miracle, you only need to gather it.  Maybe the manna you have been praying for is a breakthrough in your marriage.  You may be asking the Lord to do a redemptive work in your husband from inside the tent of bitterness and pride.  Maybe the manna He has asked you to gather comes in the form of an apology, a letting go, a hard conversation,  forgiveness.  Perhaps He has asked you to step away from relationships and influences that aren’t good for your marriage… Maybe He has asked for a little more time, devotion, Proskotereo.  Maybe you are longing for some intentional time as a family, an actual dinner around a table with eye contact and deep conversations.  But, you have your kids in so many activities that you have not heard their hearts in weeks.  You can continue to pray for your family but the manna maybe as simple as a pot of spaghetti and a “no.”  I don’t know what it is but I know that many times we are too busy complaining to gather.

We could go on and on…. health, finances, parenting, ministry.  Sometimes the Lord does the big crazy miracle we hope for.  Sometimes that huge check miraculously appears in the mail.  Maybe the marriage fairy visits you in the middle of the night.  Maybe you wake up to perfect, pleasant children.  Maybe you walk out your front door and literally bump into the person who will be your BFF.  But usually not.  God is always working.  He is in the business of providing.  He loves to bless His kids with not only what they need but their hearts desire as well. He is a good Father.  But usually He asks us to do a little gathering.  We may have to shut up for a sec and listen to the gentle falling of manna right outside our tent of self.  We may actually have to get up and get out of our comfort zone, our opinions, our entitlement, our junk and do some work.  We don’t have to produce the manna, we are just asked to gather it.

My silly chickens cannot get to the water when the waterer is clogged.  They are physically unable to gather what they need though it is right in front of their beaks.  But we are better than that.  We are smarter and stronger and braver.  We have the still small voice of the Holy Spirit living within us saying, “gather.”  Yes, gather sisters.  Pray, ask, and then throw the flaps of that tent open and gather.

Find Your Tribe, Love Them Hard

Proskartereo.  I think it is my favorite word in the Bible.  I love it so much that I painted a sign with this Greek treasure on it and hung it above our bed.  Proskatereo.  Here is Strong’s Concordance’s definition:

1. to adhere to one, be his adherent, to be devoted or constant to one
2. to be steadfastly attentive unto, to give unremitting care to a thing
3. to continue all the time in a place
4. to persevere and not to faint
5. to show one’s self courageous for
6. to be in constant readiness for one, wait on constantly

Basically- DEVOTED.  When my pastor preached on Acts 2, where we see a beautiful picture of Proskatereo, he gave this meaning: to continue to do something with intense effort with possible implications of and despite difficulty.  Proskatereo.  Devoted.  I mean I want to have a pep rally for this little verb!  Our best example of this devotion in action in the Bible is in Acts 2:42-47:  “They devoted (proskatereo) themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.  Everyone was filled with awe and many wonders and miraculous signs were done by the apostles.  All the believers were together and had everything in common.  Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need.  Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts.  They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people.  And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.”

All of this Proskartereo begs the question: WHAT AM I DEVOTED TO?  If I am totally honest and transparent I would have to say that I am pretty devoted to my phone.  It is rarely out of hand much less out of sight.  I glance at it countless times an hour.  I depend on it for communication, entertainment, information, weather, time, music, etc.  We are devoted to one another.  I would also have to confess that I have been devoted to certain shows for years.  They will remain nameless but lets just say we have been through a lot together… post-it note weddings, plane crashes, the death of a McDreamy husband, (“you are my person”).  Don’t judge. Also let me say to Coach Taylor, “clear eyes, full hearts can’t lose.”  And don’t even get me started on the Bravermans. All my love forever. I am also devoted to carbs.  Even when others have left them in the name of Atkins, or gluten free fads, or let’s say the ability to fit into their jeans, I have remained steadfast in my devotion to all things bread.  I have continued with intense effort and much expense in my devotion to staying a blonde.  Let’s be real.

But, I am also devoted to my husband.  That is why Proskartereo will always be above our marriage bed.  We have pressed on towards obedience and each other when it has been difficult.  Even if we haven’t always looked past or overcome our differences, we have steadfastly chosen each other above them. Devoted.  I am devoted to my children and in this season a huge part of my life means being devoted to educational choices that certainly could cause one to faint if they were not persevering.  If you looked at my schedule you would see that evidently I am devoted to a t-ball team by the name of the River Dogs, a baseball team that go by the Reds, a soccer team called The Heroes, and a spring production of the ballet “A Mid-Summer’s Night Dream.”  I am devoted remaining close to my family even though several states separate us.  It takes intention and attention (and a million rapid rewards points)  to cultivate relationships that span generations, especially long distance.  Proskartereo.

What was the Acts 2 Church devoted to?  We read that they were devoted to the apostle’s teaching, to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread (carbs are biblical!!!), and to prayer.  Basically, they were devoted to God and to each other.  Devotion.  It’s  a serious thing.  We have to work to make the things we say we are devoted to match the things our schedule, bank accounts, and conversations show we are devoted to.  I am always astounded when people tell me that they don’t have time to study the Word of God, read a book, or cultivate a meaningful prayer life, but if you look at hours in a day they seem to be devoted to twitter, or a workout schedule, or a sports team. They were also devoted to each other; to living life on life, sharing meals, meeting needs, bearing burdens, lifting prayers. TOGETHER.

 Your tribe.  Your peeps.  Your girls. Your community.  Your friends. I am loving this little mantra right now:

FIND YOUR TRIBE.  LOVE THEM HARD.

Yes.  This.  A thousand times this.  I really love that Jesus had a “tribe.”  They were called disciples.  Even though He was sent to save all of humanity, He had His tribe.  He had a close group of guys that He did life with, traveled with, broke bread with, spent His days and nights with.  Jesus loved His tribe of 12 hard.  He loved them hard when they were hard to love.  He loved them when they were ignorant, He loved them when they went off the rails (hello Peter cutting off an ear), He loved them when they failed Him (like napping in the garden while He was praying blood), He loved them when they didn’t understand or believe Him, He loved them when they ran and denied Him.  He loved His tribe hard.  Even within His tribe of 12, Jesus had a closer tribe of 3.   Matthew 17:1 says, “After six days, Jesus took with Him Peter, James, and John the brother of James, and led them up on a high mountain by themselves.”  These three were the inner circle in the tribe.  Jesus, the author of community and relationships, one-third of the trinity, was DEVOTED to this rag-tag, grungy, incredibly flawed tribe of fishermen, tax-collectors, and sinners.  He got away with them.

He knew that though He knew every hair on all the heads that would ever walk the earth, while walking on the planet He needed His tribe.  He gathered them and was unapologetically devoted to them until He returned to heaven.  Proskartereo.

Maybe in this culture of inclusion yet independence, we fear wholly devoting ourselves to one tribe.  We may have our feet in so many groups that we forget which one we belong to, or worse, we never belong to any.  We have continual access to newfeeds and perfectly filtered pictures of what all 500 of our “friends” are doing all of the time and who they are with… This has produced the relatively new disorder called FOMO. Fear Of Missing Out.  If we truly devote ourselves to one tribe, won’t we miss out on what all the other tribes are doing? The answer is yes.    But if we are not careful we will end up with friendships a mile wide and an inch deep.  Those are called acquaintances.  That is not your tribe.  I’m not talking the people you host baby showers with, or have perfectly planned dinner parties for (although I am a huge advocate of both).  If you have to get cleaned up before they come over, or apply lipstick, or tell your children to behave, they are not your tribe.  I’ll go a step further and say if they have not seen you cry, watched you fight with your husband, witnessed you yell at your kids, or seen you in a bathing suit, they are not your tribe.    If they don’t know your kids’ middle names and don’t have permission to spank them, they are not your tribe.  Proskartereo.

How do you “find your tribe”?  I know that it is certainly not as simple as a cute saying.  I have found that the journey to a real tribe is both organic and intentional.  It cannot be forced.  There is not sign-up sheet for real community.  You may have to step into several circles before you find the one that works for you. You may get hurt, or left out, or stretched.  But in the process, you must be intentional.  If you only ever present your shiny self you will not find a real tribe.  Tribes take time to really form.  Tribes take sacrifice… a sacrifice of schedule, of agenda, of service, of sleep.  Tribes take devotion.  Once you have found your tribe, love them hard.  Love them hard when they are hard to love, when they go off the rails, when they get funky, when they become needy, when their kids are hard to have around. Pursue them when they go radio silent, when they get depressed, when they are sick, when they are sad.  Love them when your paths look different, when your marriages look different, when your days look different, when your bank accounts look different.  Be devoted to your tribe because they will in turn love you when you are hard to love, or when you need to go to the ER in the middle of the night, or your feelings are hurt, or your marriage takes 2 steps back.  Never underestimate the power of a tribe.

I have found my tribe of women and I love them hard.  They love me hard right back.  We are devoted to meeting together every Wednesday night to hang out, pray for each other, talk about Jesus, and grow in our knowledge and faith.  We are devoted to doing this in our PJ’s.  We are devoted to doing real even when it is messy and demanding and inconvenient.  We are devoted to helping raise each other’s kids.  (We may also be devoted to arranged marriages. Whatever.)  We are devoted to speaking the truth in love and calling each other to the best versions of ourselves.  We are devoted to weeping together and celebrating together and supporting each other’s dreams and families.  We are really just devoted to together.  I have my 12, I have my 6, I have my 3.  I will be unapologetically devoted to this tribe just as Jesus was unapologetically devoted to His. So here is a shout out to my tribe, past and present.  I love you. I need you.  I couldn’t do it without you.  Thanks for all the Proskartereo.

What about you?  I would love to hear about your tribe and how you love each other hard.  Comment below or on my Facebook page “A Word That Matters” and let’s discuss devotion to your tribe. Give your own tribe a shout out right here…. tag them, let me see pictures and hear stories; a little virtual pep rally for Proskartereo.  Let’s encourage each other on our journey!  #findyourtribelovethemhard

Cleaning Out the Closets of Our Faith

So my big project over spring break was to clean out all the kids’ closets and drawers.  I know, PARRTAAY, right?!?! Oh how “Spring Break” can transform in a couple of decades… Anyway, I literally touched every little sock, pair of undies, and discarded shoe of all four of my children.  These were tedious hours.  Not-so-nice emotions surfaced when I realized someone had lost one pricey church shoe, or a brand new dress was shoved in the recesses of the PJ drawer, or so on and so on.  Also, there was a bit of embarrassement and “mom guilt” when I recognized that all of my 10 year old’s shorts were size 6-7 and everyone’s toes were scrunched inside of their school shoes.  The time had certainly come!  So, armed with garbage bags for Good Will and a list of what everyone was going to need for the approaching warmer weather (and a little T Swift on the Beats Pill), we tackled it room by room.

In hindsight I should have taken on this task alone rather than including the kids but I needed them to try things on (which they loved let me tell you) to see what fit and what didn’t.  The problem came when certain t-shirts, or nightgowns, or flip flops which they were very attached to proved to be too small.  Then, the panic and agony when they realized they were going to be passed down either to younger siblings or to friends was ridiculous!!!  I calmly stated that we were not going to keep things that were too small, no longer needed, or useless.  I also reminded them that if all their bathing suits or shorts were too small then they could in fact get new bathing suits or shorts that would not show their bootys, for example.  We also made a “keepsake” pile for each- things that they could no longer wear but wanted to save…. all my daughter’s Nutcracker T-shirts from every performance she has been in, all my son’s camp T-shirts, anything with a tiger on it for my tiger-obsessed 6 year old… You get the picture.  It seemed fine until that evening when little sister walked out of her room in a pair of PJ’s that just this morning had resided in big sister’s drawer…. And we were back to the agony.

All of this cathartic (all be it dramatic) cleaning out brought me to a place of contemplating some things in my faith as I took my cozy place on the couch next to my Bible the next morning and eyed bags of grown-out-of clothes and shoes.  Here is where the Word of God took me, “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.  When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.”                          1 Corinthians 13:11.  I put childish ways behind me.  It sounds like the apostle Paul is calling for a little cleaning out of closets himself.  In Hebrews 5:11-14 we read, “We have much to say about this, but it is hard to explain because you are slow to learn.  In fact, though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you the elementary truths of God’s word all over again.  You need milk, not solid food!  Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness.  But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good form evil.”  Do you hear the author (probably Paul again)’s annoyance?  I can hear echo’s of my own voice saying, “Your rear end is hanging out of those shorts!  They are too small!  Let’s get some that fit.”

Are there areas in your faith where you are squeezing into some ill-fitting spaces?  Are you hanging on to some comfortable routines when God is calling you to pass them on?  Are you still trying to fit into some old revelations when Jesus has a brand new one for you?  Does your prayer life look like a bottle filled with milk while The Lord is waiting for you at a banquet table?   Maybe it is your very best Sunday dress… the miracle you still stand on.    Is it time to perhaps put it in the keepsake pile and go get another one?  I’m not saying forget it! No, we will remember and tell our children of all His deeds.  But don’t we trust that He has something more for us?  Is there a place of leadership or influence that you need to hand down to someone a little younger than you in Christ?  They cannot step up until you step out.  Are you still just trying to scrape out a few moments a day to read a warm and fuzzy devo after years of walking with The Lord while He is calling you to teach?  Are you stomping around in the same ‘ole sin when He is calling you to righteousness?

We have a good Father.  He will not leave us with our toes scrunched.  And he will not let us go bare-footed if we put away childish things.  It is hard to let go and move on in our faith.  It may hurt to see someone else stepping into what once was yours.  We like to feel as though we have mastered certain areas, worn the grooves just right.  But here is the thing, we can never get to the end of our God.  Isaiah 43:19 says, “See, I am doing a new thing!  Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”  Perhaps we cannot perceive it because our head is stuck in a faith that is too small.  Just like I was willing to take my four growing children to the shoe store the next day and get everyone footwear that fit, He will be kind and gracious as He leads you to your new thing.

I don’t know where you are on your walk of faith today.  Maybe waking up 15 minuets early to pray for your family is your new thing.  Maybe putting away childish sins like gossip, sexual immorality, impure language, etc. is your new thing.  Maybe a warm and fuzzy “Jesus thought” devo is all your young tummy can hold right now.  But if it is, it won’t be for long. Perhaps He is asking you to step out and make a phone call, teach a Bible Study, be real with a group, start writing a something for goodness sakes (ok, that was for me).  He is calling all of us to maturity. He is calling all of us to a bold, grown-up faith.  He is calling us to the meaty things of righteousness.  He is calling us to a broken world that needs the PEACE and JOY that only He can bring and He will use us to BRING IT! We better take off the flip-flops that our toes are hanging off of and get our boots on!  And look back there, a little way down the road… Do you see that sister that is ready for some new digs?  The ones that you have grown out of may be the perfect fit for her in her new thing!

The Word of God is alive and active (Heb. 4:12).  Where things are alive, they are growing.  Where we grow, we grow out of.  Our faith is a RELATIONSHIP not a KEEPSAKE.  Won’t you take an inventory of your walk today and see if there are a few items, a few areas, a few callings, even a few sins that are too small for your BIG God.  We can trust that He has a new thing for us and will make sure we are dressed for the occasion!

 

 

 

Country Strong

Sometimes I send romantic little texts to my husband throughout the day like, “Hey, where is the chainsaw?” or “I need the BIG ladder.” At times I may get a “What are you doing?” response but most of the time it is merely the red-faced mad emoji or the more popular complete silence.  Like most married couples I suppose, we sometimes differ in the priority of projects we feel need to be attended to around the Ranchito.  To be fair, there are a lot….. My husband’s favorite projects tend to be the kind in which he can put headphones in and work on alone… sprinklers, spraying weeds, driving the tractor,  something for a million hours out in the shop.

And to be fair, he is at the office most of the week while I am here… starting at the dead limb until it is LITERALLY MAKING ME CRAZY.  I want to be able to till the garden, get the truckload of mulch, build onto the chicken coop, cut down the branch for the love of Pete.  The truth is, I have a hard time with the 50 pound bag of dog food.  And it makes me so mad.

Let me paint a little picture of myself for you…. I am 5’4″ (and 1/2???).  I was a cheerleader in high school AND COLLEGE (go ahead, I know)!! And although 4 kids in 6 years added a couple of dress sizes on, I am in no way a large, brawny girl.  My idea of a good workout is a little candlelight and yoga or maybe a hip hop step class (cheerleader!!).  Now, I did birth a 10lb 11oz baby boy all natural so I don’t care how much you can lift… I win.  But, my physical limitations, even in my strong, healthy, relatively young body are frustrating so much of the time.  I will probably never be as strong as my husband.  I will never be as tall as my 6ft.tall  sister-in-law who is super handy to have around by the way!!  I have yet to be loading chicken feed or potting soil into the back of my SUV where a nice gentleman doesn’t notice the obvious struggle and offer to help.

These limitations mean that I have to ask for help.  A LOT.  I am a hard worker and will put in the sweat and long hours but nothing I do is going to transform me into someone who can accomplish all that I wish I could.  My husband jokes around with me often and says, “You’re country strong Babe! You can do it.”  But here is the thing…. there are times I really can’t.  It makes me so frustrated… and as I have thought more about it I am so frustrated that I am frustrated.  Is there anything we value in our American culture more than independence?  It sounds so strong and right and good.  But then I look to the Word of God and He says something very different, doesn’t He?  In John 15:5 Jesus says, “apart from me you can do NOTHING.”  Ouch.  In light of an omnipotent Savior are we anything BUT limited?

It’s weakness, isn’t it.  Weakness is what we are talking about.  We hate being weak.  I hate being weak.  It seems everything in our culture revolves around being strong….Workout and eat right to be strong of body.  Put your kids in the best schools and bombard them with learning so they will be strong of intellect.  Work hard at your job and climb the ladder to be of strong power, wealth, and influence.  Post only the very best of yourself to be strong of admiration and popularity.  Strength.  We love it.  Paul says something shocking to our “pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps” sensibilities in 2 Corinthians 12:9-10: “I will BOAST all the more gladly about my weaknesses so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  That is why for Christ’s sake I will DELIGHT in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.”    Boast in weakness, not hide them?  Delight in weakness, not try to overcome them?  Not be frustrated in them?  Not see my weakness as weakness but strength?   Man, Jesus likes to flip things upside down, doesn’t He?

One aspect of my walk with Jesus that I simply love is that He invites us to be co-laborers with Him here on the earth.  1 Corinthians 3:9 says, “For we are God’s fellow workers,” or, “co-workers.”   In 2 Corinthians 6:1 Paul says, “As God’s fellow workers (or partners) we urge you not to receive God’s grace in vain.”  Just like there is always work to be done around my Ranchito, there is Kingdom work to be done here on earth.  We are called to share the gospel, love one another, pray for one another, to care for the widows and orphans, to resist the devil, to fight the good fight.  In Luke 10:2 Jesus says, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.”  In Isaiah 6:8  Isaiah tells us, “Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?’  And I said, ‘Here am I.  Send me!”    You see, the moment you make Jesus Lord of your life you do not just sit back and wait in line to get into the pearly gates.  N0! In fact, you receive marching orders, really, divine assignments here on earth.  We are to be hard workers. Did you know that God instituted work in the garden before the fall.  I’m all in for a little hard work, some dirt on our hands, some spiritual sweat on our brow, a little eternal muscle being built.

But, just like I have to depend on my much stronger and more able husband to do certain things around here, we will ALWAYS have to depend on our Rock of a Savior to come along side of any and all of our efforts for His glory. He is like the kind gentleman at Tractor Supply who can lift effortlessly what I cannot with all my might.  The things that I worry and fret I will never be able to do on my own are but a whisper of His mighty will.  All I need to do is ask for His help.  All we need to do is boast in our weakness, delight even.  And our work will become rest at His side.  After all, he tells us in Matthew 11:30, “For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  We don’t have to be country strong.  We have a Savior who can command the wind and the waves, who beat death, who can’t wait to lend you a hand.  Rest in this and be encouraged Sisters, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”  (2 Cor. 12:9) Thank goodness for that!

God in the Compost Pile

In my new little adventure of “wannabe homesteader” I have discovered a magical thing called compost.  Do you know it?  You cannot read an article about gardening without reading all about compost.  It’s everywhere you look if growing something is on your radar.  Compost.  I am certainly no expert but I have put on my muckiest boots, held my nose and waded into the world of compost.  First and foremost, I had to get a container to hold said magical compost So…

Look at this adorable little compost bucket…  It is so cute and clean on the outside with its neat lettering and sealed lid.  It even sits out on the counter in my kitchen, in plain view, because it is so presh.

By the looks of it you would never know what is inside.  So what is inside, you might ask. What is compost?  Compost is all the stuff I used to throw away in the kitchen.  Now, I place it in my cute little bucket.  Cut the tops off the strawberries for the kids’ lunch?  Throw it in.  Coffee grounds from yesterday’s life-giving pot?  Toss it in.  Egg shells from the pancake batter on Sunday?  Yep. In.  Potato skins, banana peels, the salad that got gross before you could use it all, the apple core, the smushy pear no one will eat, the ends of the carrots…. All in.  And once a day or so, I take my cute little bucket out to a hole by the garden and toss it in.. You know what else?  Pull some weeds …Add them to the pile.  Clean out the chicken coop…. Throw it in.  Sweep up the bunny courtyard…. gather it up because it goes in the compost pile too.  Have some hay that got moldy and wet?  Perfect!  Compost.  Now, I know there is a science to all of this that I am not completely aware of.  There are PH balances and acid levels and such that I know nothing about.  I know that I don’t know exactly.  What I do know is that you can throw all of this smelly, stinky waste into a hole in the yard and you end up with magic…  Slimy, gross, rank  USEFUL magic.

All of this composting got me thinking about a couple of things in my own life.  First of all, aren’t I like that cute little green bucket sometimes?  I can be all put together on the outside, clean and shiny, fit for any countertop.  I can have a lid so securely fitted on that no one can catch a wiff of what is rotting on the inside.  Maybe it is sin that no one sees.  My words and my smile might be covering up the stink of my attitude.  My thoughts may be far from lovely but my outside is picture-perfect Sunday school ready.  Jesus addressed this in Matthew 23:27-28 when he said, “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites!  You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean.  In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.”  Maybe the lid is not covering our sin, but it is covering our hurt, our insecurities, our confusion, our pain.  We can tidy it all up for the outside world, but we know that inside we are a miry mess.  But, I have learned that the shiny bucket can just hold so much waste before the lid will no longer neatly fit on and the smell is evident to all who come near.

So what do we do with our mess?  What is the point of all of this compost?  Where is the magic in the mire?   Well, compost is indeed the magic ingredient in growing good things.  After all of this waste has been piled up, a good gardener knows how to work it.   He knows to add green waste on food waste and to keep it moist.  He knows how to turn it over and over until it is ready to use.  When it has all broken down and decomposed from it’s orginal form of apple core or egg shell, those nutrients are added to the soil around it and trash has truly become gardening treasure.  A scoop of this compound can feed plants for months  Who need pricey nursery fertilizer when I have all of these kids and animal producing all this waste?

God is called many things in the Bible.  He is our Heavenly Father, the Good Shepherd, the Bread of Life, the Living Water, the Great I Am, and so many others.  But, I think one of my favorite roles that God plays in the Bible is that of Farmer.  Psalm 65:9-11 paints this beautiful picture: “You take care of the earth and water it, making it rich and fertile.  The rivers of God will not run dry; they provide a bountiful harvest of grain, for you have ordered it so.  You drench the plowed ground with rain, melting the clods and leveling the ridges.  You soften the earth with showers and bless its abundant crops. You crown the year with a bountiful harvest; even the hard pathways overflow with abundance.”  In Matthew 13 we find the parable of the sower where Jesus tells of a farmer who sows seed onto different soil with different results.  We know that the Farmer is God the Father and the seed is His Word.  In John 15 we read about Jesus being the true Vine and we are the branches that must abide in Him to produce any fruit in our lives.  God is a Farmer, the original gardener, grower of good things, author of life.

What would happen if we were brave enough to give all of our mess and junk to this good Farmer?  What if we opened up the lid on our sin and let Him use it?  I John 1:9 says, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”  He will not only forgive, but he will grow something new from it.           2 Corinthians 5:17 says, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come; The old has gone, the new is here!”   What if we gave Him the shame and dirtiness of our pasts?  Handed Him those bad decisions from high school?  Gave Him our regrets over that girl we were in college.  What if we were to toss Him those years of marriage where we were a hot mess?  What about the days we couldn’t get it together and we yelled at small children who in no way deserved it?  What about those places where our needs have never been met, our insecurities paralyze us, our ugliness is rotten?  It can all go in the compost pile.  We can trust God the Farmer to know how to work our mess so that it can be turned into a life-giving sustenance.  What if He feeds an entire generation with the seeds grown in our compost?  He will produce a harvest and He can use our muck and mire to grow something beautiful.   You see, we can try to keep a lid on all of it and make sure nothing leaks out of the sides.  We can clean it up for awhile. In the bucket it is just a smelly heap of waste.  But in the hands of the great gardener it can produce life for ourselves and others for the glory of God.  Be of good courage, tell your story, fess up to your mess, look for seedlings to fertilize in the Kingdom.  Trust Him with your smushy pears and rotten lettuce…. and watch the beautiful harvest that is coming.

 

Swords and Sore Muscles

Sometimes the attacks are subtle.  Sometimes they hit you in the face with such force that it takes weeks to find your footing.  There are attacks we never recognize, never call it for what it is. And then there are attacks that are so obvious no one could mistake the enemy’s work.  I have experienced both in the last week.  I am still reeling in many ways, but these words that you are reading right now are the evidence of the fight still in me.

Last week, my littlest got sick.  It started with the familiar cough that accompanies the early spring West Texas wind.  I can handle that.  Then he had a fever. Ok.  We got this.  But, by the middle of the night on Friday he was screaming that his ears hurt.  Those midnight hours found me making garlic oil and juicing onions.  I was heating warm compresses and scrambling to find relief for him.  By morning he was resting, but my other 3 children were awake and shockingly still expected a mother to care for them regardless of her lack of sleep.  Thinking we were in the clear, I finally laid my head down on the pillow Saturday night only to be awaken moments later by the painful cry of my little guy again.  All of the mommas out there know that it ALWAYS happens on the weekend and is ALWAYS the worst in the middle of the night!!! So, I lay on the end of his twin bed and counted down the hours until I could take him into the urgent care on Sunday morning.  In the end we got some amoxicillin for his ears and I somehow kept the rest of my little crew alive on no sleep.

Somewhere in the fog of these days, my 6 year old began limping around our home.  First it was behind the knee, which we quickly attributed to growing pains and sent her to soccer practice.  Then it was her leg, her foot, her arms, her neck.  Finally, one night she was screaming from her bed, hurting so badly she couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom.  Now this kid is a force of nature…. She is my most independent, strong-willed, fierce little warrior.

So, seeing her in all of this mysterious pain really began to scare the hubby and me.  Thank goodness it was actually on a Monday (yes, the Monday following the Sunday in the urgent care) so I made the doctor’s appointment for the next day and spent way too many hours googling possible causes for these symptoms.  We all know never to do this, and yet we always succumb to this torture, do we not?  By the time we left for the appointment the next morning, I was so scared I could barely breathe.  The poor doctor pushed and pulled on all of her limbs, poked at her tummy, looked in her ears and down her throat and said, “I think she has a strained muscle in her thigh.  Did she fall or something?”  At this point, my toothless princess tells both the doctor and me in great detail how she and her best friend Addi were giving each other “piggy- back rides” in the gym. “the other day.” (Amazingly, the same day the limping began.).  Addi had crumpled under the weight of my girl and she had fallen onto the hard gym floor.  “Remember,” she says to me, “I told you I went to the nurse because I bit my tongue?”  Yes, I think I vaguely remember that in the middle of the little guy’s hacking and fevers.  She had evidently jarred her body hard enough to make her sore all over.  The doctor looked at me a little like I was crazy, and maybe even incompetent and prescribed MOTRIN y’all!  I think I mumbled something about earaches and no sleep as I  assisted my gimpy daughter back to the car.

Neither of these events rocked my world.  I am certainly tougher than that.  But do you know what they did?  They sucked the energy completely out of me.  They seriously challenged my “no complaining for Lent.”  They made me so exhausted that I began to question this new little step of obedience.  “You can’t write,” I began to think, “You can’t even think.  How can you encourage others when an earache and a sore muscle can knock you so low? You can’t speak into lives for the glory of God.  You can’t do Kingdom work here.  You can barely get some corndogs on the table.  All you can handle right now is the laundry and keeping your kids well.  You are even failing at that.”  And then I listened a little more closely to that voice and I realized it was not my own.  Those little whispers that were daggers to my confidence did not belong to me.  It was the lies of the enemy and I was so mad I hadn’t recognized it sooner!  1 Peter 5:8 says, “Be alert and of sober mind.  Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.”  I was sitting in a pool of my own devoured courage and purpose and hadn’t even noticed the attack.  Now, I do not look for a demon under every rock or inside of every infected ear.  We live in a world where kids get sick and fall down.  We live in a world where piggy-back rides gone amiss are the least of perils.  I know.  But we also live in a world in which the enemy, Satan is his name, can twist even the most mundane aches and pains into arrows aimed at our purpose.  If he can get us so distracted by the immediate needs and failures of the day, we lose the ability to look up at our great calling.  Satan hates it when we find our voice.  He hates it when we use our gifts.  He hates it when we get our of the ruts of our own self-centeredness and begin to encourage our sisters in their race.

John 10:10 tells us that “The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy;  I (Jesus) have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” Jesus isn’t the only one who has a plan for you. The enemy is real and he has a goal for our lives as well.  He wants to steal the dream your Heavenly Father has placed in your heart.  He wants to kill your calling and destiny.  He wants to destroy your effectiveness for the kingdom.  He will go after your kids, your marriage, your sleep, your confidence, your tribe. We know from Ephesians 6:12 that, “For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.” Sometimes all he needs is an iPhone to keep you distracted, an ear infection to keep you exhausted, or a fall on the gym floor to keep you afraid.  I hate it when I realized I was such easy prey. You see, I am a warrior.  You are too.  We are called to fight these battles.  We are called to never forget that there are powers at work and the unseen is more real than this veil we are so invested in.

After my days of being an easy target, the enemy launched an attack that I really have no theology for.  It was not on me personally but on our community, on my faith family.  It was a tragedy of unspeakable devastation. Honestly, in the wake of it we are still walking around waiting for someone to say something that makes any kind of sense.  It seems that the enemy has had a huge win… Lives of mighty champions snuffed out too soon, too senselessly.  There is a battle and it is real.  So what can this army do but honor our lost, regroup, and draw our swords?  There is no neutral ground.  Will we be victims or heroes?  Will we dress for the fight of our lives, of our generation, or will we turn tail and run.  Or worse, ignore it all together and forfit victory?  Not me.  Not my family.  Not my tribe.  We may not have all the answers.  We may never know all the why’s this side of heaven but we can suit up and prepare for war.  Ephesians 6:10-11 says, “Finally, be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power.  Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.”  Whether his shemes are sore muscles or tragedy we must stand.  Draw your swords, sisters.  I will as well and in the end we know that the final battle has already been won on the cross.  Let that assurance give you all the confidence you need to war well.

Driveway Confessions

Here it is, my Driveway Confession… I totaled my car in my driveway. TOTALED. In my DRIVEWAY.  I don’t even know what to say.  I needed to take a pair of shoes I bought for my daughter back to Target, I had the 5 year old in the back seat, I WAS NOT ON MY PHONE (Babe, I promise) and I totaled my car.  The gate to the Ranchito had been acting up so I was watching to see if it would open for me as I drove up.  It did, and I proceeded to drive out and smash into a Volvo coming very unexpectedly down our not-very-often-traveled street.  I was going a grand total of 3 miles an hour.  The poor man I hit jumped out of his car and started yelling, “This car is only 2 weeks old.”  I had no words.  I just put my crumpled car in reverse and backed back inside the gate.  When the police showed up, all I could say was, “Would anyone like some coffee or pumpkin cookies?” because, you know, I WAS AT MY HOUSE!  The story gets worse, or funnier, depending on if you are you or me, but the final blow came when the insurance company pronounced my pretty red SUV totaled. At 3 miles an hour.  In my driveway.

This lovely little experience got me thinking about a few things… I think I’ve totaled my car in the driveway lots of times.  I bet you have too.  When I am (as infrequent as it may be) driving on a large interstate, or some big city overpass I am fully engaged, very careful, even nervous.  You better believe that my hands are on the wheel and my eyes are on the road.  Everyone is buckled and rebuckled.  But, in my own driveway, pulling out of my little gate on my little road?  I am less engaged, less careful, more distracted.  Here’s the thing, when I am out in the world- maybe at church or my kids’ school- guess what I am?  I am smiling, and clean, and engaged, and witty.  When I throw a party and have people over to my house I am gracious, and kind, and servant-hearted.  When I am leading a group of women I am prayerful and encouraging and fully open.  In my own driveway, in my own home with my little bunch, in my role of mom and wife, not always so much. CRASH!

We certainly let our guards down in our own homes, don’t we?  In those relationships that rub on each other every single day we are less shiny and thoughtful.  Unfortunately, I am not always as “all there,” servant-hearted, or gracious to the four children I am stewarding as I am to the receptionist at the salon, or my friend at the store.  I am often less engaged with my husband as I am with the (hilarious and vital BTW) group texts with my girlfriends.   I would never be as annoyed with a request from a friend for help as I am with my kid’s constant wantings.  I would never get as sharp tongued with you as I become with the hubs.  So here I go, slowly really, 3 miles an hour, totaling my car in my very own driveway.  Hopefully I don’t total the relationship… They all still love and need me.  I adore them all.  But I sure can total our day.  I can total a conversation.  I can total the entire mood of my home.  I can total the opportunity to speak life and pour into those people for the rest of the night.  CRASH!

So, here are the two things I want to say about this little Driveway Confession that I hope will be encouraging as you may be looking at a smashed car right now… First, we all do it.  Grace upon grace to us all.  I see it with my own children as well.  They would NEVER speak to their teachers, or grandparents, or even dad the way they sometimes speak to me.  We are close.  They have no fear of losing this relationship.  We are also together.  A LOT.  So we rub on each other and we forget to give the same respect to those we love the most as we would to someone on the outside.  I see it when they play together.  With their friends it is all giggles, and “sure you can have a turn,” and “Dude” (you know, depending on the kid), but with each other it can be, ummmmm how should I say it….. less that!  I know how much they love and need each other even if they don’t yet.  They are not trying to impress each other, they are completely known and safe within these walls.  Guards are down.  Grace upon grace.   My hubby and I do it all the time with each other.  Why do we choose Sports Center or Downton rather than choosing to engage in meaningful conversation?  (Ok, I mean it is the last season… shed a tear with me for the love of Anna and  Bates).  How can we fuss all the way to church or a dinner party and step out of the car charming and agreeable?  Well, we do it because we know the other isn’t going anywhere and as much as we desire to (and believe me do) live in authentic relationships with those in our circle, no one knows our junk like each other.  So, grace upon grace to all of us with bumpers hanging and a taillight out.

But… there will come a time when all of those 3 mile an hour crashes that totaled a night, or a conversation, or the atmosphere in your home will total the whole thing if we are not careful.  Eventually our kids will catch on and believe they are not as important as the friend on the phone or the Instagram post.  Eventually we won’t be able to find our way to meaningful conversations with our spouses in our beat up jalopies.  We may feel safe and secure in our driveways, in our homes, in these daily relationships, but they deserve the protection of some kindness and attention as well.  Yes, grace upon grace but let’s pay a little more heed on this well-worn little road.

After the completely  mortifying ordeal of that day, with my car broken and undrivable in the garage, my sweet friend came by with a bottle of wine that was called “Help Is Here.”

My sweet hubby had tons of grace and never yelled or berated me for my stupidity, though he really could have.  Although no one took me up on the coffee or pumpkin cookies, all the police officers, and even the poor man whose 2 week old Volvo I smashed, ended up being very kind.  I now have the exact same  model of SUV except in black and newer.  That is grace upon grace, y’all.

“Therefore, whenever we have the opportunity, we should do good to everyone- especially to those in the family of faith.”  Galatians 6:10

 

 

 

 

Fishbowl Lies

When I was growing up my Nannie had the most beautiful salt-water aquarium.  I spent hours gazing at the yellow tang, the funny sea horses, or the delicate sea stars.  That crazy lady even had those fish trained so that when she scratched on the top of the aquarium they came swimming up in a frenzy ready to eat.  She also had a “fish guy” who came to her house to clean out the tank, bleach the coral, and add new fish when she needed them once a month or so.  The whole process was fascinating and the end result added beauty and wonder to their home.  These are lovely memories for me…. Now fast forward to life today on the Ranchito.

My husband calls me an “animal hoarder.”  I don’t know if that is a thing, but if it is, then I am one.  I should never be allowed in a PetSmart unaccompanied.  I search PetFinders like some women search Pinterest.  I have been known to pull over on the side of unsafe roads to try to lure a stray anything to my car. I had a pet squirrel that lived in my bedroom named Popcorn.  Once, after having seen a stray cat in a hotel parking lot, I saved all the chicken from my quesadilla at the restaurant next door to tempt the kitty to me. It worked and that cat was our Ranger for 10 years.  Just last month I showed up to a meeting 20 minutes late with asphalt stains on the knees of my lovely winter white pants because there was a kitten under a car at the mall…  Chick-fil-a was the bait of choice that day and I was less successful.  Your loss, kitty.

I may or may not have passed this little disorder on to my children.  (Sorry Babe)  They have asked for a pet everything you can imagine.  We have obliged where we could- puppies, kittens, bunnies, chickens, even a leopard geko.  There have been seasons where a caught tarantula took up residence, we have had a colorful fire toad,  and there was a large container of scoripions at one point (boys, you know?).  Sorry kids, you will never have a snake, I’ll keep working on Dad about the ponies and wallaby (who are we kidding- the wallaby is all me), and it is illegal to have a tiger.  One mistake I have made in my animal hoarding is a yes to the fish in the bowl.  You know the deal, the pretty beta fish in the little glass bowl, or maybe the goldfish they won at the school carnaval.  The cheap fish in the cheap bowl- easy peasy.  One container of food will last the fish’s entire life. A grand total investment of $15. Done.

These little fish swimming around in the scalloped, crystal clear bowls are lying to you.  That water will be gross and smelly by the time you wake up in the morning.  Remember the scene from Finding Nemo where the fish stop up the filter so the tank gets super dirty?  Well, guess what?  Your $15 didn’t even get you a filter.  It also didn’t cover the nice “fish guy” who will come to your house and clean out your bowl.  So you are stuck with unfiltered, waste water and some kids who are no longer interested.  I have fallen for it more times than I would like to admit.

Can’t our lives feel like that as well sometimes?  I see it everyday…People swimming around in their own dirty water, in their waste, desperate for some fresh air.  Is there anything we long for more than encouragement?  Not long ago I started feeling insecure in relationships that I knew in my head were steadfast and strong.  My courage started to falter.  The Lord showed me that my courage in those relationships can come from encouraging them.  Courage is built when we encourage each other.  None of us are entitled to encouragement, apart from the knowledge of the love of Christ and our identity in Him (and that is ENOUGH, for sure).  There are usually no cheerleaders as I go about my daily tasks.  Not many of us get enough “atta-girls.”  That is why when we have the courage to give one to someone else, what a gift!  Maybe we can be a “fish guy” to someone today and offer a little fresh air.  Maybe it would offer our own bowls a chance to get clean if we would stop swimming around in our own junk and jump on over into someone else’.

Our dirty water is making us sick, isn’t it?  Just like those little fish that looked so happy and healthy yesterday that are now belly up in the murky mess.  Not just spiritually sick, physically sick as well.  I recently read an article about “How Emotions Affect Immune Systems” by Jane Collingwood.  In it she sites Dr. Steve Cole’s study on loneliness.  She quotes, “One of the most robust social risk factors involves the number and quality of an individual’s close personal relationships.  People who are socially isolated [swimming around in their own mess- my words!!!] have increased risk of death from all causes, and several specific infectious, cancerous, and cardiovascular diseases.”   Later on she quotes Dr. Richard Davidson saying, “It’s absolutely likely that positive emotions can improve your immune function.  People with negative emotional styles would be more likely to develop the flu.”  I am not as smart as any of these people but this sounds like some fishbowl logic to me.  The dirty water is making us sick.  The very best flu shot we can get may very well be encouragement!!!

I think one of the fishbowl lies is that, “no one understands me, what I’m going through, this situation…..”  Oh, it’s a stinky one.  Here is what I have learned: my hard may be different than your hard but it’s still hard.  Let me tell you about a few  of the“hards” I have had.  There have never been two people less prepared in all of history to get married than my husband and I were.  Let’s just say that we had some serious hards for the first, oh decade or so, of our marriage.  We also had some “can’t keep the lights on” financially hard years.  I am raising my babies approximately 10 million miles from my parents and shifting the expectations of what that looks like has been hard.  Maybe someone could look at my not-hards and forget the hards… I come from a fantastic, intact family who loves me and introduced me to Jesus.  I had no problem conceiving 4 healthy babies.  I have awesome friends, a vibrant church, the opportunity to stay home and serve my family.  Maybe someone would look at my marriage 16 years in and have no idea… Look at my hubby’s job, our home, our community of faith and never know how it used to be.  That is fine.  I’m not trying to swim around in old dirty water, but make no mistake, I understand hard. And what if I looked at someone who had an amazing, mature, God-honoring marriage right from the “I Do’s” and enough money to go to Bora Bora for their honeymoon (y’all, the hut in the middle of the ocean), and thought their bowl was crystal clean.  All the while they may be struggling with infertility, illness, or issues that come from a foundation not nearly as strong as mine was.  Their hard is different.  Your hard may be different.  The things that are clouding your fishbowl may be very different than the things clouding mine.  But how much we lose when we stay in our own stinking water thinking, “no one understands.”  We can find FaceBook pages and support groups and little cliques of people walking in the same hard we are walking in (and sometimes we need to, certainly).  We can get so used to our dirty water we can’t see anyone else’.  We can stay put and suffocate. But what if we all just jumped on out of our junk for a moment and started spashing some encouragement around?    Trust that everyone has hard. No one you’ll meet today is “over-encouraged.”

In the end, Jesus is the ultimate “fish guy.” (Sorry, Lord).  He comes in and cleans up our mess with his grace and forgiveness.  He can take our rancid water and make something beautiful out of it.  So, today why don’t you take a fresh breath of encouragement and offer one to someone else.  Don’t fall for the fishbowl lies again!