he's rebelling and I'm glad for it

Genesis 25:29--"Now Jacob cooked a stew..."

Recent events have me somewhat unsure of how to proceed in areas of my life. Sometimes when you stop and analyze things a bit much, the picture just gets fuzzier. This has been a good time to set the burden down, refuse to look at it, and focus my attention in other directions.

Today the attention belonged to our big guy who made it back from a weekend away, a weekend centered around teaching and discussions of Scripture. He turned eighteen while gone, celebrating his birthday away from us. Eighteen sounds momentous, but we've always taught them all that chronological age means little if there is no growth in character. He has had growth in character.

As a two year old, his tantrums concerned me. As a four year old, his shyness kept him from others. As a six year old, he read poorly. As an eleven year old, his temper flared viciously. As a fourteen year old, he realized he needed Someone bigger than himself to help him through his problems. As a sixteen year old, he decided he would sign up for every missions trip he could go on. Now as an eighteen year old, he reaches me when others can't.

Tonight we sat on his bed while I prepared some of the school lessons that will finish his schooling by me. While I worked, he shared some of his favorite sermons by pastors who refuse to preach what is popular instead insisting on preaching the truth. He smiled at me at times when one of the speakers made a statement he knew I would appreciate. He told his dad and I about his new opportunities that have been offered to him. He talked about his next missions trip.

He is rebelling against the ways of the world. Somewhere along the way, he left our arms and walked boldly into Another's, deciding to follow the only One who will not fail him. Now he shares that faith with us...with me, at a time when I need it, but cannot receive it from anyone else. All this and he's learning to cook too...tonight he made venison stew.

There was another Jacob who cooked a stew once. His flaws were obvious and his character experienced growth through adversities also. He never became perfect, but he had a place in a plan designed by the same One who's made the plan for this Jake.

the pressure cooker

Life hurts. Nothing really profound in that statement, just writing it based on recent events. I have a terrible tendency to hold things in and allow them to stew. It reminds me of my mom's early years with a pressure cooker. I don't know what she did wrong, but she would begin cooking something in her cooker and within thirty minutes we would hear the deafening sound of catastrophe in the kitchen. Our kitchen ceiling bore the marks of many cooker recipes that shot straight upwards through that little spout on top of the cooker.

That is me, the pressure cooker. We were taught to hold things in, not actually instructed to, but children learn by watching and experimenting. This is a lesson I wish I had avoided, but unfortunately I've carried it into my grown up years.

Of all my lacking in character, this is the one I don't want to pass to this precious bunch of five He's given me. I want them to live in freedom, speak freely without apprehension, speaking boldly what is right.

I am not so bold nor so free. My staying quiet over a period of time has consequences that are costly, consequences I bring on myself. Eventually the pressure intensifies to a degree that I spout off and leave marks, not on the kitchen ceiling, but on everyone who's in hearing distance. My regrets come when I realize I should have spoken to someone about the aggravation that was growing, but I didn't. My words are of no effect, but to confuse and disturb. My solution? I'm no hero, I plan to run in the opposite direction. Not in an effort to hide, but more in realization that I am poison to people and need not speak anymore or I'll spread more grief.

Lessons never stop in life. I stay too long in some places where I hope to belong eventually, places where I see others trying to belong too, but then they disappear without a word. As I enter their same abyss, I understand where they went...in search of the place where they do belong. Sometimes in the most well meaning of places people segregate themselves, others cannot force their way in so they walk. I had hoped to be stronger and always stay and hold a spot whether invited in or not, but I am not a strong one and my staying so long has been more out of protest than truly wanting to fellowship. So my guilt lands heavy on me now, guilt for wrong motives, staying for the wrong reasons and not being a vessel of love myself.

I am ever thankful that the "feeble" still have a place in His plan.

aggravation of futility

I once visited a woman who was dying. She laid on her back for months unable to catch full breaths only able to get up once or twice a day for a few minutes each time. I would just stop by and read to her or talk to her for a while. She wanted to have the Bible read to her so that's what I did. After that, she wanted to talk even though that was difficult for her, but she had regrets that she wanted to share. I remember her regrets clearly.

She regretted not knowing the Bible better. When I first visited her, she asked me to read the 23rd Psalm and then she asked me where it was in the Bible. She didn't realize that it was found in exactly the place that it was named--the twenty-third Psalm. She also regretted not having done more for the LORD. She even wanted to volunteer right there in her last few days to do something for her church. She wanted to use the last bit of time she had for Him before she saw Him. Her regrets reminded me of Solomon's in Ecclesiastes.

Solomon had been king of Israel forty years. He accomplished every goal any person today could attain to be considered successful in the eyes of the world. He built the temple and homes for himself and others. He gained respect by those who knew of him because of his wisdom. He built relations between his country and others. He had more wealth than any other king of that time. In the eyes of mankind, he was the epitome of a success.

But as Solomon's body gave way to age, his own mortality loomed before his eyes and the finiteness of all he accomplished plagued his mind. "Vanity of vanities...all is vanity" (Ecc. 1:2).

The LORD told him early in his reign "if thou wilt walk before me, as David thy father walked...there shall not fail thee a man upon the throne of Israel" (I Kings 9:4,5). Solomon knew that though he accomplished all that the world considered great, his accomplishments meant nothing. He didn't walk with the LORD as his father had and now as he faced the eternal, the prospect of what may happen to the throne reminded him of what was most important, the thing he had not done...fearing the LORD and keeping His commandments.

I feel quite a bit like Solomon myself minus the great accomplishments, but including the frustration of realizing how much of my time has been wasted by not concentrating on simply fearing Him and keeping His commandments but instead paying heed to much of the traditions of mankind even in our churches.

Fearless--a book review

Earlier this week, I received the book Fearless by Max Lucado from Thomas Nelson Publishing. The subtitle is Imagine Your Life Without Fear. The book has about 13 chapters covering fears that individuals can feel free to lay aside. The 14th chapter covers the only truly healthy fear, that being the fear of the Lord. After the final chapter, there is a discussion guide for each chapter which would be useful for using in group studies.

This was not a profoundly deep book, but it did cover basic fears that most people struggle with at one time or another. In the first two chapters, he covers fears that haunt us in our minds such as not mattering and disappointing God. He follows this with a chapter in which he offers tips as to how to stop worries from plaguing you. In the next couple of chapters, he discusses the fears common in raising children and many fears we easily succumb to when looking at the world around us. These fears include the anxiety we can experience when facing circumstances that overwhelm us, situations that can be the worst imaginable, even the anxiety caused by violence in the world and money concerns. The last few chapters deal with a fear of death, or the uncertainty of what is yet to come in life, and doubts about God's existence. Finally, he reaches the chapter I was hoping would be included. This chapter is about the only good fear--the fear of the Lord. He tells the importance of realizing that we cannot put God into our box. He is too great to contain, too awesome to understand, too amazing to explain. When all of our fear is wrapped up in acknowledging His greatness and His control of all things then all other fears become small.

Although I was not overwhelmingly affected by this book, it did include a thorough overview of fears that we need not waste our time on.

missing teeth and living free

He is seven tomorrow. Ethan is our fourth arrow.

Seven years ago, on this day, the doctor told us that since the little fella wasn't cooperating in the womb we might want to consider a c-section. The date was up to us. We could wait a few days or come in that afternoon. It was January 22, 2003, the thirtieth anniversary of Roe vs. Wade. We decided to mark that occasion by welcoming a little life into the world. It was obvious he would be wild by the tangled mess he was, coming out of my body, cord wrapped around the neck and under the arms, purple little guy.

But he was fine.

His name fit him from the beginning. Ethan-meaning constant, firm, a lot like his dad. He's solid, never wavering. He always knows what he wants and is satisfied with just that. He doesn't require much to make him smile. He's good natured, wild, and retains information a lot like a computer, but that's not obvious unless someone tries to explain something, gets it wrong, and he simply offers the correct info.

A child who is so different from his mom. Not sensitive, no worries, just living freely. What a relief...he missed out on my idiosyncrasies.

Occasionally, he allows tender moments like when he's tucked in at night. He wants me to pray with him. Sometimes he wants someone to come and rest with him just for the company before he falls asleep.

He likes everyone, unless they are outright mean and then he'll walk away from them and boldly proclaim (to all) their bad behavior because he assumes everyone should know this stuff. His siblings are his best friends, especially Luke. They can sit and draw together or imagine they're Jedi's or just read books. He just knows that Luke is supposed to be there with him and when Luke's gone, something's wrong. He learned early on how to affect his big sister's heart by using big brown puppy dog eyes on her. He likes his little sister dearly too, but he only puts up with with so much and when she starts to be irrational...well, when anyone starts to act irrational around him, he walks away and refuses to deal with them anymore. But it's his biggest brother that he admires so much. Sometimes when he's gotten scared of something, he quietly approaches and asks if that big brother can rest with him for a while. Big brother has poured love into this little guy so much in the form of reading to him, building Lego toys for him, and tucking him in at night, the love Ethan has for him is just the harvest after many years of sowing by Jake.

I never really cry or feel sad as they get older. I always look forward to seeing what kind of grown up they will be. I take no pride in the people they are, for I and their dad had little to do with that. There is One who made them the way they are, we just get to love them, provide for them, teach them what we can, and then watch them go out in the world and make choices. Of course, I haven't had to let any of them leave our house yet so there may be some apprehension to come when all of that starts!

As for this birthday, little guy is seven and I'm celebrating him tonight!

sometimes a hug...

Hugs are not my area of expertise. Honestly, hugging others does not come naturally for me. There are very few people who I just throw my arms around casually. There's one pastor and fewer than a handful of friends (usually ones I haven't seen in a while) who I just automatically grab and squeeze. Everyone else...it's a very conscious effort on my part to embrace them. I wouldn't even hug that one pastor except that love from him has continually splashed all over me (in spite of how well he knows me) so now when he approaches something weird happens inside and suddenly I'm a little child throwing myself into loving arms without reserve. I always like running into him.

Usually I'm just pretty much a popsicle, somewhat stiff and cold, not in my heart but all outward indications point to that. But sometimes a hug happens even unexpectedly, from someone you wouldn't usually hug and it's like for the moment He just put someone there for you to hold on to. Like if they weren't there to hold you up, you might collapse into a puddle of tears in the middle of the crowd of bodies. So you hang on and even have to tell the person "I'm going to have to stay here for a few minutes, I'm not ready to let go". So you stay there and maybe tears come and the person doesn't even know why you're hanging on so tightly. But they keep holding on to you with the same intensity as though that's what they're supposed to do. They have their reasons for hugging and you have your reasons for hanging on so intensely and He put it all together because He knows what we need.

as it pertains to me

There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
She was very, very good,
And when she was bad she was horrid.

(a poem sometimes attributed to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

Okay, so it doesn't totally pertain to me. I have no curl.

I hope normalcy includes struggling inwardly regularly.

Trust me, what I'm about to say is not out of boasting, but more out of confession of knowing it not to be true. People credit me with being sweet.

Compliments say more about the kindness of those offering them, than those of whom they are speaking. I suppose as we age we realize that kind words come from encouraging mouths and are often not deserved, but more of an attempt to spur one not to give up.

Kind words toward me sometimes cause me to do a little reflecting. And the reflection is less than appealing. The closer I approach the mirror to see who I really am, the more apparent my flaws.

And still somehow He lavishes His blessings on the life of this little child of His.

The older I get the more I see my faults, but the more I see His blessings.

That's amazing grace.

how He feeds the 5000 (minus 4994)

We are a group of six everyday. Dad goes to work and our little group lives together in the hours he's gone. Learning each other's ways and character, trying to learn how to tolerate one anothers quirks, how to show love, how to sacrifice for others.


We have all learned about sacrifice. When you share a small space with so many bodies, you must learn sacrifice. You must learn that you do not rule, that your way is not most important, that others matter. That you were not intended to have everything your flesh wants.


Sometimes I'm so thankful for having little material wealth. Having little provides opportunity to teach. They learn to rely on Him for what they need rather than ask Mom or Dad and it gives them opportunity to see Him answer them personally, just a child relating to his Creator. Having little offers many other lessons, too.


They also learn to share. This is huge in our group of six. Sharing is common practice around here...and He somehow manages to multiply our little fishes and loaves every time that happens.

I have splurged before on bringing home take out, but lately due to tightening of the money clip we've cut back on the take out. Today for our treat it was two foot long Subways, one small coke, two chocolate chip cookies and some chips. It fed all six of us which is odd considering the two teens usually down a foot long on their own. But they know about the "money clip", so no one complained about too little, instead there was thanks given for the treat. There was also "no, you can have it, I've had enough". They have learned to share.

Mind you, do not worry they are not starving...I oftentimes buy small treats and make them share to train them to take smaller portions and to train them to spend wisely. I want them to learn to buy groceries and make their own food instead of paying so much for someone else to do it for them. So our house is not suffering from food shortage.

Food shortage...reminds me of my Luke and Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. What they learn so much of the time does not come from me or Dad. Sometimes after they have learned to talk to their true Father one on one, they come away with insight that He would give them. Luke did that today and all the food talk makes me think of it.
(This was a favorite book for me before it was a movie. Any mom who has to provide three meals a day for a few can appreciate the idea of food falling from the sky.)

He has watched the movie a couple of times and after getting out of the shower tonight, he came and told me about lessons he saw in the movie. He told me that in the movie the machine that makes food is like sin and the mayor is like the devil and Flint is like mankind. He said Flint started the mess by making the machine, but the mayor, although he doesn't like Flint, entices him to make more and more food until the machine is out of control and becomes dangerous. Luke saw a picture of man, sin, and the enemy. I see a boy bypassing his parents religion and relating to the One who loves him more than I can.

tired prayer

Help me to see the picture. My day begins to be consumed with frustration. If I can just get them through breakfast, corral them all into one section of the house, and close the door, then I can have peace. My voice reverberates with aggravation towards them. Yet they have really done no wrong. They've just been enjoying a sluggish morning, as their mother has taught them to do many times. But today it bothers me and my annoyance shows with raised voice and ugly tone.

I'm wearing my selfish glasses today. I see the world (all four walls of mine) through eyes desirous to accomplish something other than what You've put before me. I need to see the picture.

The doors have now opened three times, three different individuals entering my sacred quiet I so eagerly wanted. Now I am really aggravated and tempted to lock the doors to keep them in "their" section of the house. There are days like this one when all the years of care for them feels like it has just landed on my shoulders all at once and the load is heavy. I cannot see the picture. I am just dealing with one stubborn puzzle piece that doesn't seem to fit today.

I tell myself I want something else as well as this life of guiding arrows, but I know inside the extra "I wants" would be as fulfilling as cotton candy in my mouth. There for an instant, leaving a false sense of satisfaction before disappearing and leaving me empty. I want the fullness You offer, but I am tired of the day to day. Help me to see the picture.

If I cannot be given a glimpse of it, then let me see the past, for that is completed. Let me see from where I was so many years ago to the completed picture to this point. Let me see the progress that was made by the day to day for all those years. Remind me how far into the completed picture I've already been brought. Bring me back to my beginning, let me see what You did through all those years when I maintained Your way and clung to You in the "desperate to do more" moments, let me see the void I started with and the fulfillment You have bestowed to this day. Let me see that picture.

enamored by history and not so much

I have delved into history quite a lot lately. I have always found it interesting...people make choices, commit acts, and there it is...history, whether we want to make it or not doesn't matter. It's simply a recalling of events and events happen by our choices.

What is startling to me is my own history and the one I'm making daily.

Part of my history was determined by the choices of others. Now my choices are determining the history others will carry.

The startling part of that is I have never fully appreciated the history that was handed to me until recently. It has been a struggle to accept it as ordered by Him, Him putting me right where He wanted me. Now, however, looking back and seeing the pieces fit, I'm often amazed by how He laid the plans out and consummated them. I can see the jigsaw starting to form an actual picture.

The other startling part is, of course, my own history making...or simply my choices I make that affect everyone around me. This startles me in a much less exciting way, for the other history that was bestowed on me I had no say in, but this one is all about what I will do. Mind you, I am a terribly imperfect person who struggles constantly. That is where my concern lies. In me. I am capable of creating messes so having such power to affect others' lives leaves me feeling a little cowardly...like I would prefer He just made me robotic so all would be safe and I would simply follow protocol. But no He created me this way (all of us, of course, but I'm the one I have to worry about!)...this thinking, struggling, battling, choosing, sometimes not-so-determined person. I hope my faith in Him is stronger than my concern in me for that is my only rescue.

The simplest of faith in Him brings even the weakest person through difficulties. Faith being the "substance of things hoped for" and "the evidence of things not seen" will determine the choices made, the action taken...the history of a person.

Deuteronomy 30:19--"...I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live."