Last week, Mike's Aunt Beverly passed away in the early morning hours. We hadn't expected her second bout with cancer to end so soon. Try as I might, I could not put a good enough plan together for any of the kids to go with us in the middle of the week. Miranda offered herself up to manage the conflicting the schedules and somehow got the entire garden tilled also.
I really was torn. I never "want" to leave the children. Finally, one of the older ones clarified to me that instead of staying, I needed to go, not as a careless mother but as a good wife. After grappling with the condition I was leaving the house in, I let go.
See, although I'dve been here overseeing the children and home, it doesn't mean that this particular time it was God's will. It's safer for the whole family for me to be in His will.
So, I dug in my closet past the Ziploc bags, Band-Aids, and paper napkins, which I keep in there because if I leave them in the kitchen, we won't have any at all. I gathered my favorite things and, true to form, made us late. Mike didn't fuss the way he used to. He just let me be.
Somewhere along the way down to Georgia, I realized I translate into "someone else" when Mike and I get away from the household. I'm very intense at the house and don't always know when to delay things and rest. I had consciously given the children individually over to the care of the Lord. I was at peace that I was in the right place at the right time.
A few miles further, I was comforted in knowing that as the children age out of the home, Mike and I will have a hopeful future because we have things to talk and laugh and tease about.
We playfully changed clothes behind a gas station and made it to the viewing that evening, after which we went with his parents to Peachtree City for exceptional Mexican food at a place we've been to many times and where I remember Megan at the tender age of 4 putting her hands over her ears and telling us to stop fighting.
For me, the funeral was much like any other until Mike got up to speak. He had prepared a list of memories of how Aunt Beverly handled his behavior when he was young. But when he appealed to the audience to settle any doubts about the Lord, it was surreal. I don't know if I'll ever get used to hearing him proclaim the Faith.
Although the family has lost 200 pounds and 50 have been his, Mike still likes to eat like a king, just not so often. He had his mind set on The Varsity across from the Georgia Tech campus. He convinced his parents to go (even though she had prepared a roast the prior day), so we "double dated." It's hard at a place like that, but I managed not to overeat there or anywhere else. And that matters because moderation affects mood and mood affects attitude and attitude affects witness. And we got to witness to several people on this trip, especially to a young man at an electronics store who couldn't get over how Mike and I were carrying on with each other. And just before we made it home, Mike introduced me to the Muslim owner of a gas station he frequents. He told me to go get a drink on him because Mike was his best friend. Wow, talk about influencing your circle.
And anyway, if Mike wants to eat like a king, then that's between God and him. My position is to treat him with enough dignity and kindness that he feels like a king. So, Sunday morning while his parents were gone and he mentioned a mutual shower, I shouldn't have immediately cut him short. I always say something like, "I'm not a 20 year old anymore." To that he said, "Neither am I." Had me on that one.
I retain in my mind a ready list of defects. The most obvious ones are the scars of carrying children, of whom I nursed all seven. Eventually elasticity is lost and things aren't as perky as they used to be. My body is still prone to breakouts and has hair in such odd places that I don't have time left to pluck my eyebrows. But when he said, "If you're all I see ...," he had me again, so how can I not honor his commitment to look away from other women?
Something I held onto from our last out of state "encounter" was that he said later in an email, "You 'felt' different." It was regarding fitness, yes, but also newfound bold illustriousness. We women may focus more on our looks than men intend for us to; because when it comes down to it, close contact does not allow the kind of viewing accessibility we're always worried about. It really is about how it "feels." And if we're mentally or physically "checked out," it's obvious. But if there are true physical ailments/conditions (which ought to be temporary or treatable), of which I've had 3 in the last month alone, then we can give ourselves a little leeway, not that in the meantime there aren't other possibilities with which we can satisfy them. Because leaving our men "under pressure" is never wise. I've recorded unforeseen instances when I believe Mike was able to keep composure with someone because of the "release" of the marriage bed or truck or wherever opportunity appropriates.
Of all things this morning as I lie waking up after he went to work, I had an image, a sanctified one, a gift to me ...because of my skewed past and circuitry. I've been trying to associate the church as the bride of Christ. I used to be an artist, back when I took the time. This morning, I "saw" the transparent rendering of a wife atop her husband "receiving" the seed that brings the fruit she would carry, as her breasts fill with the sustenance of life. Of course, that's a rush depiction, but the "multiplication" that so many of us choose to forego enlightens and makes pure the entire process. Society has it backwards, becoming damaged by taking it before its time or by our own means.
No, we're not going to create a child every time and there comes a time when we can't, but I still believe it's the crux of the matter, a holy image that Satan would tempt our thinking into discerning as pornographic, somehow shameful and distasteful, lending to a vicious cycle of leaving our husbands unfed and brought into the real world of pornography, whether it be soft or hard.
Somehow, with all this insight I succeeded in "dropping the ball" when we got back in town. And I began to question Mike's answers. I heard my voice rising but didn't stop it. Eventually, he reminded me the car doors were open. When I went out to close them, I hardly checked for cats as I normally would. I closed one sliding door and went around to close the other. But when I did, it bounced back. I thought some of our belongings we left for the night were in the way, so I retried.
Miranda's "Kitton" fell out on the ground unconscious. There in the dark, I grabbed her up and ran into the house crying over and over how sorry I was. Miranda had to get out of the bath. She checked the eyes and let the head fall. She cried herself to sleep that night ...because I didn't have the presence of mind to be cautious.
Am I reading too much into it? I am certain that I am not. God knows His willful daughter. I knew instantaneously that it was the repercussion of returning to my sin. God is patient beyond explanation, but there comes a time when we have to decide not to turn back to it. I took Kitton outside as she coughed blood into my hands, her heart beating so quickly. Oddly my prayer was in thanks for how swift God was with my discipline and how bitterly sorry I was that innocent blood was shed. I've had similar instances that permanently changed the course of my obedience to my Lord.
Mike came out and did what falls on a man to do and ended the suffering. Kitton wasn't the average cat, not only in her beauty but in her affection. Because I knew better, a price was paid. And when we have family, the results always affect them.
Accidents happen but so do revelations, and I was secure in the meaning of the events before I got up the next morning to start where I'd left off reading, Hebrews 12. "And ye have forgotten the exhortation which speaketh unto you as children, My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him: For whom the Lord loveth he chaseneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not?" I know so many people who would've cursed the moment. "Damn it, why did this happen!?"
I knew why this happened, so there was no sense in cursing it away. I had just read before we left for Georgia, "For when for the time ye ought to be teachers, ye have need that one teach you again which be the first principles of the oracles of God; and are become such as have need of milk, and not of strong meat. For every one that useth milk is unskilful in the word of righteousness; for he is a babe. But strong meat belongeth to them that are of full age, even those who by reason of use have their senses excercised to discern both good and evil," Hebrews 5: 12-14.
First of all, I don't have any desire to become what Lot's wife did. Second of all, the first principle of a wife is to "reverence her husband" and of wives to "submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be subject to their own husbands in every thing." I, as does my friend, find the word "own" interesting, as though we are not to be subject to other men. Ironically, I believe that's what gives me jurisdiction to take dominion of my home the hours of the day when my husband's away, and I am directly subject to no one, in the physical sense. I think that's a pretty grand post to have!
I also think it's an honor that we can make or break what people think about our husbands upon meeting their wives. We don't have to be knock-outs; we just have to be the best we can be inside and out.
Right now, I've got to recapture the best I can be. She's still reeling from the weekend, the good and the bad. The good is she's never gotten to see as many relatives in a single visit before. To top that off, so many of them sent gifts home with her. Her mother gave HER a Mother's Day necklace and presented her an early birthday gift, a ceramic covered cast iron dutch oven. Her mother-in-law placed in her care a handmade quilt and pillowcase for DJ's bed. It will be by far the best of his meager possessions. Her brother's wife gave her bags of clothes, many with tags still on them, for Mady Z this summer. And the kids are fully funded for camp this summer. This all is after 3 different people have tried to give them cars in the last month.
Melody is still on cloud nine after attending the military ball at her brother's school. She was treated like royalty from the time Miranda took her to meet her ride to Virginia, in a Range Rover no less. The mother who escorted Melody and the two other girls had rented a historic home on the river near the school. They were free to leisurely ready themselves.
Of course, Sloan was Michael's date and looked the part. She graciously loaned Melody one of her dresses. They both were stunning and modest in one. All the more respect is due people who have it and could flaunt it but don't. Melody's date, Drake Davis, is one of Michael's friends whose family has done, let's say, exceptionally well financially. He is also ranked nationally in athletics. Neither of them knew the other could dance.
The next morning Sloan messaged me that people were asking who "that couple" was who could really dance. Michael had warned Drake to keep it "PG." I had admonished Melody to be a "light." Because it's never about the event but the participants. It's marvelous when people are skilled enough to perform, dancing at a distance or keeping comedy clean. I'm told they absolutely danced the night away. She says he was the consummate gentleman. And she showed him what it's like to spend an evening with a lady, amidst girls who hardly knew to do anything more than grind.
Yesterday, as the washing machine washed and the chicken simmered in my new pot, I spent the afternoon emailing state representatives because today they are finally considering the bill to include home schoolers in public junior and high school sports. Today, reality sets back in. Melody's at Driver's Ed. Mike's on the way to New York. Miranda ran to get feed. Megan gave blood last night and is back at it at work today. McKala's taking Macklynn to his game. She's doing well considering she tagged, wormed, and castrated calves all day with Dr. Sarah yesterday then fished into the night. Duke called to say her appointment was moved up from August to May.
The house is upside down. So, it's time for me to strap back in and get some stuff done. There's more than one person should ever consider doing: paperwork, cleaning, organizing, repairing. All I can do is start and not forget that the tasks are not more important than the people. And since we ladies have chosen to "stay," then we need to "stay well," as in, "whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men." And as Paul said to Archippus, "Take heed to the ministry which thou hast received in the Lord, that thou fulfill it."
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Monday, April 20, 2015
Ready to Roll
Anybody who knows me well would think RTR means Roll Tide Roll ...and it does. But lately in this off season, Ready to Roll comes more to mind.
Last week, there was a community watch out for a suspect looking group of vacuum salespeople. After the neighbors reported how they were approached, I had the kids on high alert.
Miranda got out of the car wearing her Sig and the UPS man asked why. She explained and he laughingly said that they'd regret it. She said, "Yeah, they will when Mama comes out with the shotgun!"
She'd been working like a dog in the barn all week. The pager went off for a wreck her sisters couldn't go to. She was soaking wet with mud, sweat, and rain. She grabbed her bag of gear and headed out. Upon arrival, one of the men volunteers used an expletive with, "Girl, you've been workin'!"
Mike keeps his bags packed this time of year. The next storm could be any minute; and although a disaster is never to be wished for, his enthusiasm to hit the road is undeniable.
I, myself, traveled with Macklynn and Madalynn early Friday nearly to Richmond, Virginia to get Michael for his follow-up on his shoulder. Now, he's been released to do whatever he can tolerate. Saturday dark morning found him in the woods hunting turkey, and now we have his 20 pounder in the freezer for late May when he returns.
As we arrived home Friday; Megan, McKala, and Melody were packed up for camp and just about to leave. "Daughters of the King" is a weekend they always enjoy and are honored to help the Hatfields with.
Megan had only been home a few days from Texas. She's more convinced than ever that the strong delusion is in effect over our country. What small children are growing up in is more than their little souls should ever have to bear.
We watched the slide show of their sweet faces Wednesday night and returned Sunday to hear the powerful words we always do from Brother Kevin. Miranda volunteered to take Michael and his friend back to school regardless of the rain. I hesitantly agreed and was glad I did when Mike pulled out the lawn mower that hasn't worked in 3 years. He took it apart and had it running in less than an hour.
There's something in a man's eye when his "woman" witnesses him get a job like that done. I foolishly never understood why he wanted me out doing whatever he was doing. I, not always purposefully, meandered around the house enjoying having it to myself. Not only was I missing fellowship with my husband but also how to do it myself.
So, Saturday, as sad as it is, we had a "session" for me to crank all the yard equipment. And after Michael was done plucking and gutting the turkey, he and his Daddy climbed on the roof to clean out the gutters.
Yesterday, it rained so that torrents ran down the drive and the ditches were running over. Macklynn and Madalynn played their hearts out in it for hours as I looked on from the porch.
6 am this morning, the girls were called out to a wreck. Megan went even though she had to be at work at 8, and McKala went even though she had a stress test scheduled at 8:30. Her tachycardia, high heart rate, is back. This time her lungs have been cleared as the cause. And after today's test, the Cardiologist reported, "She has a beautiful heart, perfectly normal."
So what is it? Another doctor believes Duke University will prove that it's something called POTS. It's particular to young women and is associated with the venous system not returning the blood back to the heart quickly enough.
Nevertheless, she persists. She "runs" until she just can't anymore. Then, about the only way she can recover is to sleep it off.
I've made my case that we're Ready to Roll. But getting up and moving is only half the story. What do you do when you get there?
Melody portrayed it nicely this week. The normally reserved one had a brush with a bully at Driver's Ed, and she did not back down. There's a student who has some kind of reading disorder, so she was asked to read the test for him, for which he was answering correctly. One of the 75 or so 14 year olds decided he would get in the boy's face and say, "What's wrong with you?" waving his hands in front of him saying, "Are you in there?" Melody stepped forward and said, "Leave him alone."
The kid said something else and she said more emphatically, "Leave him alone," to which another student decided to back her up.
Then, on the way home Michael told me about the Chinese student who was in his room the other night. They were discussing beliefs. The young man believes in his own version of reincarnation and says he doesn't even think Jesus existed. They talked for over an hour and Michael ended it with, "Why would you try all those ways of getting into 'heaven' when you could try this one way that works?"
He was frustrated that a fellow student who claims Christianity chided Michael for being so firm. Michael returned solidly, "First of all, he was in our room and obviously wanted to talk or he would've left. And would you rather not 'offend' him with the truth than see him in heaven?"
And there's McKala who never shares the influences she makes until we drag it out of her, often accusing her of being cold "hearted." A coworker and friend, who does not profess the Lord but acts better than a lot of people who do, was harboring disquietness against a possible choice her husband would make, when McKala boldly interjected to her that she is her husband's helpmeet and that it's okay for him to make an executive decision..
At that point, McKala risked the relationship. And was pleasantly surprised later when the young woman acknowledged her as her best friend.
Yes, our older children are being shot out as arrows. But take note, that the younger ones are not; most all ministering that I do is alongside them. I am convinced beyond discussion that a mother is not called apart from her children, because they are her second mission and their father is her first.
Therefore, when I ask, "Are you Ready to Roll?" I do not mean without your children. I just mean, are you willing to have your routine upset for the greater cause?
I just mean, are we teaching our children to be capable of doing more than we learned in school? We can read all day, but can we apply it to anything useful or helpful? Can we make or fix or operate things, much less sustain or kill living ones? Can we "defend" ourselves or "save" anyone else in more ways than one, if that? My "education" didn't prepare me for much at all. I am ill-equipped around people who are not.
Oh, wait a minute ...we'll hire people to do it for us. That's right; that's the answer. In some cases, yes, but in most "The Cat's in the Cradle" lyrics are prophetically playing in the background:
"A child arrived just the other day
He came to the world in the usual way
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay
He learned to walk while I was away
And he was talking before I knew it and as he grew
He said, "I'm gonna be like you, Dad
You know I'm gonna be like you"
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin' home, Dad, I don't know when
But we'll get together then
You know we'll have a good time then
My son turned ten just the other day
He said, "Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on let's play
Can you teach me to throw?"
I said, "Not today, I got a lot to do"
He said, "That's okay"
And he walked away but his smile never dimmed
And said, "I'm gonna be like him, yeah
You know I'm going to be like him"
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin' home, Dad, I don't know when
But we'll get together then
You know we'll have a good time then
Well he came from college just the other day
So much like a man I just had to say
"Son, I'm proud of you, can you sit for a while?"
He shook his head and he said with a smile
"What I'd really like, Dad, is to borrow the car keys
See you later, can I have them please?"
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin' home, son, I don't know when
But we'll get together then, Dad
You know we'll have a good time then
I've long since retired, my son's moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said, "Id like to see you if you don't mind"
He said, "I'd love to Dad, if I could find the time
You see my new job's a hassle and the kids have the flu
But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad
It's been sure nice talking to you"
And as I hung up the phone it had occurred to me
He'd grown up just like me, my boy was just like me
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin' home, son, I don't know when
But we'll get together then, Dad
We're gonna have a good time then
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin' home, son, I don't know when
But we'll get together then, Dad.
We're gonna have a good time then."
Last week, there was a community watch out for a suspect looking group of vacuum salespeople. After the neighbors reported how they were approached, I had the kids on high alert.
Miranda got out of the car wearing her Sig and the UPS man asked why. She explained and he laughingly said that they'd regret it. She said, "Yeah, they will when Mama comes out with the shotgun!"
She'd been working like a dog in the barn all week. The pager went off for a wreck her sisters couldn't go to. She was soaking wet with mud, sweat, and rain. She grabbed her bag of gear and headed out. Upon arrival, one of the men volunteers used an expletive with, "Girl, you've been workin'!"
Mike keeps his bags packed this time of year. The next storm could be any minute; and although a disaster is never to be wished for, his enthusiasm to hit the road is undeniable.
I, myself, traveled with Macklynn and Madalynn early Friday nearly to Richmond, Virginia to get Michael for his follow-up on his shoulder. Now, he's been released to do whatever he can tolerate. Saturday dark morning found him in the woods hunting turkey, and now we have his 20 pounder in the freezer for late May when he returns.
As we arrived home Friday; Megan, McKala, and Melody were packed up for camp and just about to leave. "Daughters of the King" is a weekend they always enjoy and are honored to help the Hatfields with.
Megan had only been home a few days from Texas. She's more convinced than ever that the strong delusion is in effect over our country. What small children are growing up in is more than their little souls should ever have to bear.
We watched the slide show of their sweet faces Wednesday night and returned Sunday to hear the powerful words we always do from Brother Kevin. Miranda volunteered to take Michael and his friend back to school regardless of the rain. I hesitantly agreed and was glad I did when Mike pulled out the lawn mower that hasn't worked in 3 years. He took it apart and had it running in less than an hour.
There's something in a man's eye when his "woman" witnesses him get a job like that done. I foolishly never understood why he wanted me out doing whatever he was doing. I, not always purposefully, meandered around the house enjoying having it to myself. Not only was I missing fellowship with my husband but also how to do it myself.
So, Saturday, as sad as it is, we had a "session" for me to crank all the yard equipment. And after Michael was done plucking and gutting the turkey, he and his Daddy climbed on the roof to clean out the gutters.
Yesterday, it rained so that torrents ran down the drive and the ditches were running over. Macklynn and Madalynn played their hearts out in it for hours as I looked on from the porch.
6 am this morning, the girls were called out to a wreck. Megan went even though she had to be at work at 8, and McKala went even though she had a stress test scheduled at 8:30. Her tachycardia, high heart rate, is back. This time her lungs have been cleared as the cause. And after today's test, the Cardiologist reported, "She has a beautiful heart, perfectly normal."
So what is it? Another doctor believes Duke University will prove that it's something called POTS. It's particular to young women and is associated with the venous system not returning the blood back to the heart quickly enough.
Nevertheless, she persists. She "runs" until she just can't anymore. Then, about the only way she can recover is to sleep it off.
I've made my case that we're Ready to Roll. But getting up and moving is only half the story. What do you do when you get there?
Melody portrayed it nicely this week. The normally reserved one had a brush with a bully at Driver's Ed, and she did not back down. There's a student who has some kind of reading disorder, so she was asked to read the test for him, for which he was answering correctly. One of the 75 or so 14 year olds decided he would get in the boy's face and say, "What's wrong with you?" waving his hands in front of him saying, "Are you in there?" Melody stepped forward and said, "Leave him alone."
The kid said something else and she said more emphatically, "Leave him alone," to which another student decided to back her up.
Then, on the way home Michael told me about the Chinese student who was in his room the other night. They were discussing beliefs. The young man believes in his own version of reincarnation and says he doesn't even think Jesus existed. They talked for over an hour and Michael ended it with, "Why would you try all those ways of getting into 'heaven' when you could try this one way that works?"
He was frustrated that a fellow student who claims Christianity chided Michael for being so firm. Michael returned solidly, "First of all, he was in our room and obviously wanted to talk or he would've left. And would you rather not 'offend' him with the truth than see him in heaven?"
And there's McKala who never shares the influences she makes until we drag it out of her, often accusing her of being cold "hearted." A coworker and friend, who does not profess the Lord but acts better than a lot of people who do, was harboring disquietness against a possible choice her husband would make, when McKala boldly interjected to her that she is her husband's helpmeet and that it's okay for him to make an executive decision..
At that point, McKala risked the relationship. And was pleasantly surprised later when the young woman acknowledged her as her best friend.
Yes, our older children are being shot out as arrows. But take note, that the younger ones are not; most all ministering that I do is alongside them. I am convinced beyond discussion that a mother is not called apart from her children, because they are her second mission and their father is her first.
Therefore, when I ask, "Are you Ready to Roll?" I do not mean without your children. I just mean, are you willing to have your routine upset for the greater cause?
I just mean, are we teaching our children to be capable of doing more than we learned in school? We can read all day, but can we apply it to anything useful or helpful? Can we make or fix or operate things, much less sustain or kill living ones? Can we "defend" ourselves or "save" anyone else in more ways than one, if that? My "education" didn't prepare me for much at all. I am ill-equipped around people who are not.
Oh, wait a minute ...we'll hire people to do it for us. That's right; that's the answer. In some cases, yes, but in most "The Cat's in the Cradle" lyrics are prophetically playing in the background:
"A child arrived just the other day
He came to the world in the usual way
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay
He learned to walk while I was away
And he was talking before I knew it and as he grew
He said, "I'm gonna be like you, Dad
You know I'm gonna be like you"
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin' home, Dad, I don't know when
But we'll get together then
You know we'll have a good time then
My son turned ten just the other day
He said, "Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on let's play
Can you teach me to throw?"
I said, "Not today, I got a lot to do"
He said, "That's okay"
And he walked away but his smile never dimmed
And said, "I'm gonna be like him, yeah
You know I'm going to be like him"
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin' home, Dad, I don't know when
But we'll get together then
You know we'll have a good time then
Well he came from college just the other day
So much like a man I just had to say
"Son, I'm proud of you, can you sit for a while?"
He shook his head and he said with a smile
"What I'd really like, Dad, is to borrow the car keys
See you later, can I have them please?"
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin' home, son, I don't know when
But we'll get together then, Dad
You know we'll have a good time then
I've long since retired, my son's moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said, "Id like to see you if you don't mind"
He said, "I'd love to Dad, if I could find the time
You see my new job's a hassle and the kids have the flu
But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad
It's been sure nice talking to you"
And as I hung up the phone it had occurred to me
He'd grown up just like me, my boy was just like me
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin' home, son, I don't know when
But we'll get together then, Dad
We're gonna have a good time then
And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
When you comin' home, son, I don't know when
But we'll get together then, Dad.
We're gonna have a good time then."
Moms, if we aren't living life with our children, then we are the more guilty.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Forfeiture
Friday Mike was on his way home from Tennessee and Michael was on his way home from Virginia. I had spaghetti the way Memaw makes it and had my hair and make-up just the way I wear it for Mike.
The house was in pretty good shape but I was snapping at people to get it done. I basically sent the little ones away to keep them from under foot and that's not my style.
Every family member, plus a couple, was here and the meal went off without a hitch.
Saturday morning, Megan flew out to Texas on her first bona fide mission trip that wasn't youth group oriented. I'd been praying for her and since that Good Friday morning I "couldn't" hear anything but worship music for the dying day of my Lord Jesus, I couldn't understand why everything wasn't peachy.
I'm still unsure except for an all out assault of the prince of division ...and the allure of the leftover homemade brownies Saturday morning. You know, when the warm icing glazes over and turns into a whole 'nother creature of a dish. I allowed myself one after the other throughout the day, laughing it off that I would get back on track soon enough.
But then there were these chocolate chip cookies made fresh Sunday and I thought, "Well, what's a few more? They ARE my favorite." Most of the time I wouldn't be all that tempted by sweets but now as I check the calendar, I see that Sunday was 10 days before my cycle starts over - perhaps, before my body realizes she isn't pregnant and monthly wants to devour everything in sight that very day.
The problem with crossing the line between polite gestures of, "Why, yes, I'll take one. Thank you so much," is the greedy monster that says, "You'd better get more while the gettin's good." Then he's in charge of the ship.
My husband had come home rejuvenated with ideas to take family hikes. I should've been thrilled but all I could think of was how much work we could get done on that Saturday afternoon. Sunday after service, he decided we should go again. I held back objections that it could upset the meal, but he's known me long enough to read my rebellion.
As many of us as were not sick walked up and down the creekside a couple of miles. Any other day, I would've been delighted, amazed even, that Mike would venture out on foot. But I wasn't in control, literally. I wasn't steady as I'd been in the prior weeks. Could it be as simple as food? Of course, it can. I was in outright defiance of all I'd learned. And it directly affected how I treated my husband. I had "repossessed" my vessel as my own. Now, she was tired and groggy. I know why American culture is so consumed with caffeine: to survive the near coma the food we eat puts us into, the lullaby of Satan rendering us useless, if only for a little while.
Monday morning, I'd committed to look over some assignments Michael was taking back to school. I was soberly impressed when he said in his career paper for English that, yes, he wanted to be a veterinarian and spelled out concisely why, but he added that he also wanted to be in the ministry and veterinary medicine would allow him contact with plenty of people including young volunteers for whom he could be an example.
Before long, it was time to meet up with Sloan so they could drive back to school. I had regained my steadiness until I got particularly thirsty and drank a lot of strawberry milk. As you can imagine, my roller coaster ride was no benefit to my love life. So something had to give.
This morning, after I slept nearly 12 hours, which leads me to believe something IS amiss, I was back at the helm. It normally takes me over a week to fight for the wheel.
However, McKala woke up with a migraine, coughing and throwing up, which brought back nightmares of years past. Her resting heart rate has been way too high for weeks. At least her recheck today disclosed that her lung capacity is good. Huge viles of blood were drawn and the findings should be back just in time for the cardiologist appointment next week.
She treated me to a Chick-fil-A sandwich and a cookie, which is all I had up until then. Her kind gesture put me right back on track with my fellowship meals. "Why, thank you, I believe I will."
When we got back home though, Mike was nowhere to be found, so I made assumptions and sent him a message to shame him that Melody had prepared a meal that he hadn't shown for. I even started to retaliate, but thank God for the small amount of scripture I've been able to retain. I turned up some Charles Stanley on the radio and came on back home.
Come to find out, he was doing something rather benign but was still sitting in the driveway, upset that I was upset. My explanations/excuses didn't help a thing. You see, I had lost fellowship with him sometime over the weekend and here we were acting like we did 20 years ago.
And when he drove off, it occurred a few minutes too late that we both are fighting addictions and have recently been victorious ...and this could be nothing more than a wedge from the devil himself.
But see, I had forfeited my power, to the darkness. It's not always that we're doing something "so" sinful; it's what we're losing in the process.
That's why fasting isn't really about food or substance, because there are days when we just don't matter enough to ourselves to quit. But God and His kingdom do matter to me, so I press on ...and I take back what is already won for me.
I often wonder, as I did sitting on the porch swing while ago, what all I've forfeited, even when Mike and I decided it was unsafe to have any more babies. So many more of us get a number in our heads and "that's it," never knowing what might have been, never reaping the fullness of multiplying, not only in procreation but in love. See, it's not that we're "so" sinful, only that we're "so" doubtful of God and His provision.
Mike's always said that I was happiest when I was pregnant. I'm sorry for him that love takes so much work now. I'm sorry that he can come home with big ideas and lofty ascertations ...and I can crush them with just a glance. All us women want that power but aren't careful how we use it.
I feel silly being all googly eyed but the least I could do is look on with interested amusement, as if anything is possible, and it is ...when we aren't forfeiting battles that've already been won.
Now, to see if the bedroom door is unlocked and to see if my feminine wiles still make him forget.
The house was in pretty good shape but I was snapping at people to get it done. I basically sent the little ones away to keep them from under foot and that's not my style.
Every family member, plus a couple, was here and the meal went off without a hitch.
Saturday morning, Megan flew out to Texas on her first bona fide mission trip that wasn't youth group oriented. I'd been praying for her and since that Good Friday morning I "couldn't" hear anything but worship music for the dying day of my Lord Jesus, I couldn't understand why everything wasn't peachy.
I'm still unsure except for an all out assault of the prince of division ...and the allure of the leftover homemade brownies Saturday morning. You know, when the warm icing glazes over and turns into a whole 'nother creature of a dish. I allowed myself one after the other throughout the day, laughing it off that I would get back on track soon enough.
But then there were these chocolate chip cookies made fresh Sunday and I thought, "Well, what's a few more? They ARE my favorite." Most of the time I wouldn't be all that tempted by sweets but now as I check the calendar, I see that Sunday was 10 days before my cycle starts over - perhaps, before my body realizes she isn't pregnant and monthly wants to devour everything in sight that very day.
The problem with crossing the line between polite gestures of, "Why, yes, I'll take one. Thank you so much," is the greedy monster that says, "You'd better get more while the gettin's good." Then he's in charge of the ship.
My husband had come home rejuvenated with ideas to take family hikes. I should've been thrilled but all I could think of was how much work we could get done on that Saturday afternoon. Sunday after service, he decided we should go again. I held back objections that it could upset the meal, but he's known me long enough to read my rebellion.
As many of us as were not sick walked up and down the creekside a couple of miles. Any other day, I would've been delighted, amazed even, that Mike would venture out on foot. But I wasn't in control, literally. I wasn't steady as I'd been in the prior weeks. Could it be as simple as food? Of course, it can. I was in outright defiance of all I'd learned. And it directly affected how I treated my husband. I had "repossessed" my vessel as my own. Now, she was tired and groggy. I know why American culture is so consumed with caffeine: to survive the near coma the food we eat puts us into, the lullaby of Satan rendering us useless, if only for a little while.
Monday morning, I'd committed to look over some assignments Michael was taking back to school. I was soberly impressed when he said in his career paper for English that, yes, he wanted to be a veterinarian and spelled out concisely why, but he added that he also wanted to be in the ministry and veterinary medicine would allow him contact with plenty of people including young volunteers for whom he could be an example.
Before long, it was time to meet up with Sloan so they could drive back to school. I had regained my steadiness until I got particularly thirsty and drank a lot of strawberry milk. As you can imagine, my roller coaster ride was no benefit to my love life. So something had to give.
This morning, after I slept nearly 12 hours, which leads me to believe something IS amiss, I was back at the helm. It normally takes me over a week to fight for the wheel.
However, McKala woke up with a migraine, coughing and throwing up, which brought back nightmares of years past. Her resting heart rate has been way too high for weeks. At least her recheck today disclosed that her lung capacity is good. Huge viles of blood were drawn and the findings should be back just in time for the cardiologist appointment next week.
She treated me to a Chick-fil-A sandwich and a cookie, which is all I had up until then. Her kind gesture put me right back on track with my fellowship meals. "Why, thank you, I believe I will."
When we got back home though, Mike was nowhere to be found, so I made assumptions and sent him a message to shame him that Melody had prepared a meal that he hadn't shown for. I even started to retaliate, but thank God for the small amount of scripture I've been able to retain. I turned up some Charles Stanley on the radio and came on back home.
Come to find out, he was doing something rather benign but was still sitting in the driveway, upset that I was upset. My explanations/excuses didn't help a thing. You see, I had lost fellowship with him sometime over the weekend and here we were acting like we did 20 years ago.
And when he drove off, it occurred a few minutes too late that we both are fighting addictions and have recently been victorious ...and this could be nothing more than a wedge from the devil himself.
But see, I had forfeited my power, to the darkness. It's not always that we're doing something "so" sinful; it's what we're losing in the process.
That's why fasting isn't really about food or substance, because there are days when we just don't matter enough to ourselves to quit. But God and His kingdom do matter to me, so I press on ...and I take back what is already won for me.
I often wonder, as I did sitting on the porch swing while ago, what all I've forfeited, even when Mike and I decided it was unsafe to have any more babies. So many more of us get a number in our heads and "that's it," never knowing what might have been, never reaping the fullness of multiplying, not only in procreation but in love. See, it's not that we're "so" sinful, only that we're "so" doubtful of God and His provision.
Mike's always said that I was happiest when I was pregnant. I'm sorry for him that love takes so much work now. I'm sorry that he can come home with big ideas and lofty ascertations ...and I can crush them with just a glance. All us women want that power but aren't careful how we use it.
I feel silly being all googly eyed but the least I could do is look on with interested amusement, as if anything is possible, and it is ...when we aren't forfeiting battles that've already been won.
Now, to see if the bedroom door is unlocked and to see if my feminine wiles still make him forget.
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