Within minutes of waking, I got a message to find out what Madalynn and I are doing today. I hated to respond with the list I have, because today would've been a great day to go spend time with McKala and the twins. Not long after that, I returned Megan's call and found out she's traveling through and stopping in for the night and day tomorrow and wanted to know what we're doing. Once again, I hated to tell her that Mike and I left some assignments to finish today, never mind that our shower needs to be cleaned and yardwork needs to be finished.
I know for some people that's what Saturdays are for. And sometimes they are, but I'm not a fan of reserving them for that. Many times, we would be traveling to WCU to watch Michael play, but I consider that family time, so that's all good.
All this leads me to how my weekdays are going. I just can't seem to get things done, which is an indicator that I need to become more efficient or to rid even more things from my life. I've even been having dreams/nightmares about cleaning and organizing! I need things to be so minimal that I have margin in my life. I don't need every moment planned out or everything thing done perfectly, but I do need to have some things under control, so that I might take advantage of life when it calls.
Sunday is not an option. I still do all I can to receive the gift of rest God has given mankind. My rest might look different that yours. Often my rest looks like doing something that I would ordinarily set down to help someone else. It often is something creative, maybe unnecessary to some.
Today for Macklynn was supposed to be a day of purging his room, and it's also his turn to clean their bathroom. However, yesterday he got an invitation to go bear hunting. How could I not let him go? I won't clean the bathroom for him, and I surely won't clean his room for him. But he'll get to it soon enough. Because like the quote McKala posted about our kayaking trip last Sunday, "Fill your life with adventures, not things. Have stories to tell, not stuff to show," sometimes you gotta just drop everything.
You can't plan the things you're inspired to do either, like Madalynn who is learning the cello. It's a fine line between the disciplines of practice and the times when passion flows out of you. So, as much as I would like for her to have a set time, she really comes alive at night and loves to play while we're all sleeping. That's how my writing goes. I could reserve a time for it like I did Tuesday to document the weekend, but that's exactly what it sounded like, documentation - dry, void of life. So, if I'm going to do this writing and have anything become of it, then sometimes I'm going to have to drop everything and ask myself like Joshua asked the children of Joseph, "How long are you slack to go and possess the land?" (Joshua 18:3).
You gotta get the daily stuff under control so that you might "possess" all that you are indwelled to become.
Saturday, October 19, 2019
Wednesday, July 10, 2019
her.
A farmer's daughter and an orphan, of sorts, in smalltown, Alabama, bore her.
A pony and peaceful enough life, of what can be remembered, were given her.
Daddy's new job changed farm life to suburb life for her.
"You are smart and pretty," over and over was told her.
Before anyone knew it, every contest was won her.
And soon, every eye was toward her.
Everyone wanted a piece of her,
especially men.
So, at the early age of 12, sneaking out became a game to her.
But at 13, again the new girl, everything got serious when friends convinced her
that an older guy would be a good first "experience" for her.
Instead, pregnancy was the experience found her.
Taken to an abortion clinic was the solution given her.
All she can remember is the lie that was sold to her
to convince her there was never a child inside of her.
And the shame, the shame that someone, maybe the teacher,
might figure out what weeks out of PE meant for that 8th grader.
Somehow, down it never slowed her.
The life of the party, the weekend drinker became her.
Not many boys for her, mostly men, and they liked her.
Before she knew it, she had been with as many men as the years before her.
Confession to someone was all she could think of to help her,
but all she remembers is the door closing, no Bible opened, no prayer for her,
at least not with her.
A blur are so many things to her.
But one day, that day her dad finally went away, was the day for her
she went and stayed with a man who was of no desire to her,
just a body, just a comfort, when everything seemed lost to her.
Achievements were earned by her.
Good grades were easy for her.
But none of it was relevant to her.
Broken and beyond all the norms, nothing spoke to her,
until
A man told her that he loved her.
He was exciting, completely different from what was known to her.
Chances are that she was more into him and he into her
than either of them was actually in love with the other.
But he married her
a month after her high school graduated her.
College in the big city was awaiting her.
So, she went, and within six months felt certain another baby was within her.
A classmate informed her they'd test her
at a clinic down the street, where they told her
a baby was bad for her.
And even her mother wasn't sure for her.
But that baby was hers.
No doubt she was having her.
School and work and marriage all continued with her
till that day she couldn't keep leaving her
with anyone else but her.
Being home wasn't easy for her.
She really didn't know what to do but to love her.
Working on the weekends seemed good for her,
until she met with a temptation she thought was gone from her.
The unthinkable happened while she was home with her,
a stranger where he had no business with her.
Regret bombarded her.
What had become of her?
Counseling seemed the only hope for her.
And that's where the Light came on for her.
Repentance and acceptance became real to her.
Jesus was alive in her!
Had he been there all along since he moved her
at VBS when she was 8, maybe saving her
all the while? No one had discipled her.
It didn't matter to her.
Now, her "her" was a "she."
Things didn't have to keep happening to her
as if no one could hear her.
She could make things happen through her belief in prayer.
She had four more babies and was pregnant with another before the tempter came again.
She had to see him every day, while the kids would play.
She had a way out when the summer was over, but
she revisited what had overcome her, because there was still part of her
she had not dealt with.
She still had imaginations no one knew of.
She had first seen porn in her childhood home and again in her own.
She wasn't wanting to be with another woman but to be that woman.
She would never have admitted it, but what she wanted was to be something of a goddess,
a deceptive perception of what she could nor should ever be.
She escaped the dilemma, not unscathed, but by fear of what damage she might have made.
She had that and one more baby, totaling 8 with the one gone above.
She thought is was over, the old her behind her, when men from school "found" her and asked if they could "friend" her.
She thought she had it under control, but
she had no experience with this way of communicating, and
she found that ears are far too willing to hear what woes are written between the lines.
She learned the hard way the trap that was set. Now,
she has boundaries in place to prevent such events.
She was to be tested one more time, during a lesson given twice a week. For months,
she knew all too well from the look in his eye, what way this was going.
She avoided. She sat in the car. But finally she knew there was only one way to stop it.
She had to leave. And she did. And for the first time, she had true victory.
She's learning that there's more to her than meets the eye.
She's learning that she can take God at his Word, because she reads it every day.
She's learning that God is her Father and her Husband and that purity is what pleases him.
She's learning that taking care of herself doesn't have to get any attention from anyone.
She's learning that, in fact, the better she looks the more she ought to hide it away as a gift.
She's learning that she too can be holy and is commanded to be so, just like the Savior
of the her
she used to be.
A pony and peaceful enough life, of what can be remembered, were given her.
Daddy's new job changed farm life to suburb life for her.
"You are smart and pretty," over and over was told her.
Before anyone knew it, every contest was won her.
And soon, every eye was toward her.
Everyone wanted a piece of her,
especially men.
So, at the early age of 12, sneaking out became a game to her.
But at 13, again the new girl, everything got serious when friends convinced her
that an older guy would be a good first "experience" for her.
Instead, pregnancy was the experience found her.
Taken to an abortion clinic was the solution given her.
All she can remember is the lie that was sold to her
to convince her there was never a child inside of her.
And the shame, the shame that someone, maybe the teacher,
might figure out what weeks out of PE meant for that 8th grader.
Somehow, down it never slowed her.
The life of the party, the weekend drinker became her.
Not many boys for her, mostly men, and they liked her.
Before she knew it, she had been with as many men as the years before her.
Confession to someone was all she could think of to help her,
but all she remembers is the door closing, no Bible opened, no prayer for her,
at least not with her.
A blur are so many things to her.
But one day, that day her dad finally went away, was the day for her
she went and stayed with a man who was of no desire to her,
just a body, just a comfort, when everything seemed lost to her.
Achievements were earned by her.
Good grades were easy for her.
But none of it was relevant to her.
Broken and beyond all the norms, nothing spoke to her,
until
A man told her that he loved her.
He was exciting, completely different from what was known to her.
Chances are that she was more into him and he into her
than either of them was actually in love with the other.
But he married her
a month after her high school graduated her.
College in the big city was awaiting her.
So, she went, and within six months felt certain another baby was within her.
A classmate informed her they'd test her
at a clinic down the street, where they told her
a baby was bad for her.
And even her mother wasn't sure for her.
But that baby was hers.
No doubt she was having her.
School and work and marriage all continued with her
till that day she couldn't keep leaving her
with anyone else but her.
Being home wasn't easy for her.
She really didn't know what to do but to love her.
Working on the weekends seemed good for her,
until she met with a temptation she thought was gone from her.
The unthinkable happened while she was home with her,
a stranger where he had no business with her.
Regret bombarded her.
What had become of her?
Counseling seemed the only hope for her.
And that's where the Light came on for her.
Repentance and acceptance became real to her.
Jesus was alive in her!
Had he been there all along since he moved her
at VBS when she was 8, maybe saving her
all the while? No one had discipled her.
It didn't matter to her.
Now, her "her" was a "she."
Things didn't have to keep happening to her
as if no one could hear her.
She could make things happen through her belief in prayer.
She had four more babies and was pregnant with another before the tempter came again.
She had to see him every day, while the kids would play.
She had a way out when the summer was over, but
she revisited what had overcome her, because there was still part of her
she had not dealt with.
She still had imaginations no one knew of.
She had first seen porn in her childhood home and again in her own.
She wasn't wanting to be with another woman but to be that woman.
She would never have admitted it, but what she wanted was to be something of a goddess,
a deceptive perception of what she could nor should ever be.
She escaped the dilemma, not unscathed, but by fear of what damage she might have made.
She had that and one more baby, totaling 8 with the one gone above.
She thought is was over, the old her behind her, when men from school "found" her and asked if they could "friend" her.
She thought she had it under control, but
she had no experience with this way of communicating, and
she found that ears are far too willing to hear what woes are written between the lines.
She learned the hard way the trap that was set. Now,
she has boundaries in place to prevent such events.
She was to be tested one more time, during a lesson given twice a week. For months,
she knew all too well from the look in his eye, what way this was going.
She avoided. She sat in the car. But finally she knew there was only one way to stop it.
She had to leave. And she did. And for the first time, she had true victory.
She's learning that there's more to her than meets the eye.
She's learning that she can take God at his Word, because she reads it every day.
She's learning that God is her Father and her Husband and that purity is what pleases him.
She's learning that taking care of herself doesn't have to get any attention from anyone.
She's learning that, in fact, the better she looks the more she ought to hide it away as a gift.
She's learning that she too can be holy and is commanded to be so, just like the Savior
of the her
she used to be.
Dissenters, the Division
My husband had told me he saw the Blue Angels fly over while he was mowing last week. He loves them, especially since he spent several weeks of disaster relief in Pensacola, FL, where they are stationed and do regular maneuvers along the coastline. I didn't think anything else of it until we watched Washington, DC's Fourth of July Celebration. After a detailed history and due credit for each branch of our Service were given, flyovers were performed, including the Blue Angels!
I'm not moved by many things. Pride is certainly not one of them. But unity is. I couldn't help but well up with the passion of our President and of the people.
Immediately, there were dissenters, pundits expounding that it was a political play and that there has been no true unity or righteousness in America's past.
Our family's observations have been that the disunity is almost always irrefutably what used to be from the fringe element, but, thanks to public education and social degradation, we are afraid is now the norm and here to stay.
This week, a city council took a private vote to discontinue the Pledge of Allegiance at the beginning of meetings. As I was watching the fallout and the smug response of the leading member, I wondered to myself, "Do we need a war?!" Seriously, do we need a war to remind us that life is not always this easy?
For the Israelites, that was the obvious case. Every couple of generations, they had to be reminded of everything they took for granted. God made it so very clear what He wants, after a long list of sexual things he considers vile, "(For all these abominations have the men of the land done, which were before you, and the land is defiled;) that the land spue not you out also, when ye defile it, as it spued out the nations that were before you." (Lev. 18:27-28). This after having said, "And the land is defiled: therefore I do visit the iniquity thereof upon it, and the land itself vomiteth out her inhabitants. Ye shall therefore keep my statutes and my judgments, and shall not commit any of these abominations; neither any of your own nation, nor any stranger that sojourneth among you: ...."
And of the custom of Molech, whose sacrifice demanded children, the LORD said, "And I will set my face against that man, and will cut him off from among his people; because he hath given of his seed unto Molech, to defile my sanctuary, and to profane my holy name. And if the people of the land do any ways hide their eyes from the man, when he giveth of his seed unto Molech, and kill him not: then I will set my face against that man, and against his family, and will cut him off, and all that go a whoring after him, to commit whoredom with Molech, from among their people." (Lev. 20: 3-5).
First of all, thank Jesus that death is not the sentence anymore. It's interesting though how we dismiss Old Testament standards as archaic and, in our simplicity, don't understand that at the rate we're going, none of us would be alive to talk about it if not for the longsuffering of God, having sent his Son that generations might continue.
At large, we are consumed with lusts of every kind, so much so that when we receive the fruitfulness of them, we sacrifice it to the god of convenience to keep doing that thing which produces the gift that we don't want in the first place. And in the extreme of performing sexual intercourse that cannot even produce fruit, we prove exactly how disinterested we are in children at all.
So here we are, but Dust. We forget so quickly the lessons of the Bible and the sacrifices of our veterans, to provide us a lawful land of unity and peace, which is never possible without protection. Idealists don't believe it's necessary. Realists know that it is. So, thank God, our Defense is present and active and celebrated as it was this Fourth of July.
I'm not moved by many things. Pride is certainly not one of them. But unity is. I couldn't help but well up with the passion of our President and of the people.
Immediately, there were dissenters, pundits expounding that it was a political play and that there has been no true unity or righteousness in America's past.
Our family's observations have been that the disunity is almost always irrefutably what used to be from the fringe element, but, thanks to public education and social degradation, we are afraid is now the norm and here to stay.
This week, a city council took a private vote to discontinue the Pledge of Allegiance at the beginning of meetings. As I was watching the fallout and the smug response of the leading member, I wondered to myself, "Do we need a war?!" Seriously, do we need a war to remind us that life is not always this easy?
For the Israelites, that was the obvious case. Every couple of generations, they had to be reminded of everything they took for granted. God made it so very clear what He wants, after a long list of sexual things he considers vile, "(For all these abominations have the men of the land done, which were before you, and the land is defiled;) that the land spue not you out also, when ye defile it, as it spued out the nations that were before you." (Lev. 18:27-28). This after having said, "And the land is defiled: therefore I do visit the iniquity thereof upon it, and the land itself vomiteth out her inhabitants. Ye shall therefore keep my statutes and my judgments, and shall not commit any of these abominations; neither any of your own nation, nor any stranger that sojourneth among you: ...."
And of the custom of Molech, whose sacrifice demanded children, the LORD said, "And I will set my face against that man, and will cut him off from among his people; because he hath given of his seed unto Molech, to defile my sanctuary, and to profane my holy name. And if the people of the land do any ways hide their eyes from the man, when he giveth of his seed unto Molech, and kill him not: then I will set my face against that man, and against his family, and will cut him off, and all that go a whoring after him, to commit whoredom with Molech, from among their people." (Lev. 20: 3-5).
First of all, thank Jesus that death is not the sentence anymore. It's interesting though how we dismiss Old Testament standards as archaic and, in our simplicity, don't understand that at the rate we're going, none of us would be alive to talk about it if not for the longsuffering of God, having sent his Son that generations might continue.
At large, we are consumed with lusts of every kind, so much so that when we receive the fruitfulness of them, we sacrifice it to the god of convenience to keep doing that thing which produces the gift that we don't want in the first place. And in the extreme of performing sexual intercourse that cannot even produce fruit, we prove exactly how disinterested we are in children at all.
So here we are, but Dust. We forget so quickly the lessons of the Bible and the sacrifices of our veterans, to provide us a lawful land of unity and peace, which is never possible without protection. Idealists don't believe it's necessary. Realists know that it is. So, thank God, our Defense is present and active and celebrated as it was this Fourth of July.
Wednesday, July 3, 2019
Lora
30 years married is a long time, especially for my husband and me. But as of July 1st, that's how far we've come.
He had an out of town doctor's appointment for his first annual check of his pacemaker. So, we were on a "doctor date," I call it. I think that's pretty common for anyone who has a chronically ill family member.
Since we were nearby, he took me to my favorite restaurant. And as we were leaving, I asked him if it would be bad of me to run by my favorite shoe store, the buy one, get one half off kind, to finish getting geared up for my return to the gym. Actually, I haven't done anything significant in the gym other than work there and tell other people what to do, since I was a member of the Racquetball Club in high school.
He patiently sat in the car while I went straight to the men's athletic isle. My feet are so wide, I don't even look at the women's anymore. I settled on a pair of throwback Reeboks and asked the girl packing boxes on the next isle if I'd be the only person in America sporting those at the gym. She liked 'em just fine. I told her our kids would probably make fun of me but that they like the 32 year old L. L. Bean bag I still have from high school and think I should tote it around at App State, where I probably wouldn't be on campus much, but have recently applied to finish college.
She said, "I know a lot of middle aged people going back to school." I grinned then told her it would be to write. She said, "I write too." Surprised, I said, "It'll probably be toward ministry." She said, "Women ought to talk more to women about those things."
I was still astonished at someone of her generation, when I had asked if she has a belief and if it is in God, then if it is in Jesus, she had a resounding, "Yes," for them all. They weren't cutesy, right answer "yeses," but serious, matter-of-fact ones. She looked all of 15, but she was 19, with a very thin and unassuming appearance, with glasses and lots of dark hair.
I told her what day it was and that I should be getting out to the car but first mentioned a few facts about the miracle of making it this far. I said that a lot of people make excuses, but God. She lit up and said, "'But God', that was the subject of my favorite sermon from my church in Ohio!" I could almost see her recounting it. Then, her face began to flush, as she encouraged me to do the writing. She said, "I'm the only Christian in my family. I just moved out on my own. And it's hard; I haven't had anybody to show me how to be a Christian."
I immediately identified with her and asked her if I could hug her neck. Her face was splotched with red. I didn't even know her name but I had to find out so that I could pray for her. And I told her that I would. And I will. Because it matters. All these encounters, they matter. As a matter of fact, they're all that matter, conversations that bear witness that our LORD is on His throne, as are thirty years of marriage between two fleshly, immature, passionate people evidences that God is real and that His Word still stands.
He had an out of town doctor's appointment for his first annual check of his pacemaker. So, we were on a "doctor date," I call it. I think that's pretty common for anyone who has a chronically ill family member.
Since we were nearby, he took me to my favorite restaurant. And as we were leaving, I asked him if it would be bad of me to run by my favorite shoe store, the buy one, get one half off kind, to finish getting geared up for my return to the gym. Actually, I haven't done anything significant in the gym other than work there and tell other people what to do, since I was a member of the Racquetball Club in high school.
He patiently sat in the car while I went straight to the men's athletic isle. My feet are so wide, I don't even look at the women's anymore. I settled on a pair of throwback Reeboks and asked the girl packing boxes on the next isle if I'd be the only person in America sporting those at the gym. She liked 'em just fine. I told her our kids would probably make fun of me but that they like the 32 year old L. L. Bean bag I still have from high school and think I should tote it around at App State, where I probably wouldn't be on campus much, but have recently applied to finish college.
She said, "I know a lot of middle aged people going back to school." I grinned then told her it would be to write. She said, "I write too." Surprised, I said, "It'll probably be toward ministry." She said, "Women ought to talk more to women about those things."
I was still astonished at someone of her generation, when I had asked if she has a belief and if it is in God, then if it is in Jesus, she had a resounding, "Yes," for them all. They weren't cutesy, right answer "yeses," but serious, matter-of-fact ones. She looked all of 15, but she was 19, with a very thin and unassuming appearance, with glasses and lots of dark hair.
I told her what day it was and that I should be getting out to the car but first mentioned a few facts about the miracle of making it this far. I said that a lot of people make excuses, but God. She lit up and said, "'But God', that was the subject of my favorite sermon from my church in Ohio!" I could almost see her recounting it. Then, her face began to flush, as she encouraged me to do the writing. She said, "I'm the only Christian in my family. I just moved out on my own. And it's hard; I haven't had anybody to show me how to be a Christian."
I immediately identified with her and asked her if I could hug her neck. Her face was splotched with red. I didn't even know her name but I had to find out so that I could pray for her. And I told her that I would. And I will. Because it matters. All these encounters, they matter. As a matter of fact, they're all that matter, conversations that bear witness that our LORD is on His throne, as are thirty years of marriage between two fleshly, immature, passionate people evidences that God is real and that His Word still stands.
Friday, June 21, 2019
Drinks, drinks everywhere. My husband figures it's because people don't want to think of how much they're spending on their vacation and because they probably don't much like the person they're with. I have to give him that.
This week has been our first trip to the beach in six years, and even that was a disaster relief deployment. This week was also our first alcohol free vacation. I have to give him that, also.
We had no plans for a vacation this summer, until one of our daughters accepted a job as a beach lifeguard. Her Daddy wasn't "having it" without going to inspect. Turns out it's a reputable company that's been there a long time. The interesting thing is that there are hardly any Americans. The owner said that their American lifeguards are "lazy." Instead, they have foreign exchange students from all over Europe and Russia. Our daughter is the only American girl. She has YMCA life guarding certifications and work experience that must've paid off. Her past swim team experience gave her to power and drive to swim the mandatory test, 500 yards in under 12 minutes, having practiced for less than a week.
The day after we arrived we set out to find her at her post. She hadn't returned from lunch, so we got to talk with her Polish trainer, who says he makes more money here in half a year than he can with his degree in his home country, which he returns to for the winter months. He also said after working with her for a couple of days that she works harder than the last couple of guys he's trained. After feeling more secure about her environment, we could relax a little and enjoy the beach and the pool with our younger two. Then, my husband decided our daughter with the twins ought to come, also. So, that child of ours packed up their stuff in about 15 minutes and drove four and a half hours by herself, arriving well after midnight, so the babies could go to the ocean for the first time, since they didn't have a plan to vacation either.
Her husband stayed behind, still mourning the loss of his grandmother, who passed just after the babies' second birthday party was underway last weekend. He kindly said they ought to go. For the most part, we shored her and the babies up, and while we were busy enjoying their excitement, our youngest daughter was making a friend, from Ukraine, no less. They played for hours. Then, I finally met her six foot tall mother. She was quick to let me know that she had a limited English vocabulary, although they'd been living in the states for over three years. She's a stay-at-home mom and says even when she is out with other moms, they really don't talk to her.
She was so very happy to have someone to communicate with. She told me so. I asked if they had only the one girl, and when she answered, "Yes, we have been trying for more than nine years, but I thank God for her," I was pretty sure she was a fellow believer. So, I asked and she said, "Yes, how do you say it, 'Baptist?'" I utterly loved hearing her talk, although she was often frustrated with herself to find the right words. When I couldn't figure out what she meant, she would look away and whimsically say, "Never mind."
Our girls wanted to go to the beach that night, so her husband and mine, and she and I got to talk while the kids looked for treasures in the sand and sculpted faces in it. I asked her about church in Ukraine, and she said, "It is Orthodox." Then she touched her heart looking for words and came up with, "Their heart is closed to God ...but our church in America, their hearts are open to God," as she looked up to the sky. "I learn so much about God since I have been here."
After the fireworks, we were walking back up to the hotel and she had her daughter interpret for me, "My mom says, 'You make her feel so free to talk.'" I take that very seriously, especially considering they are here on political asylum, because of Russia's invasion of the border. Freedom probably means a lot more to her in so many ways than it does to me.
Last night, our girls wanted ice cream and to swim once more, but since a storm had blown through, it was too cold and windy outside. So, we sat indoors by the heated pool. Loud and hot as it was, I couldn't let her departure go by without a prayer. I still feel uneasy taking charge of such a sacred thing, but I held her hand and before I could start, she smiled at me and said, "Thank you." After the fact, I realized I may have spoken too quickly for her to understood me, but God did. And if there is one thing I have learned, it's that when we obey, God listens.
And this is why we need to be sober on vacation and everywhere, because we just never know when these things are going to happen.
This week has been our first trip to the beach in six years, and even that was a disaster relief deployment. This week was also our first alcohol free vacation. I have to give him that, also.
We had no plans for a vacation this summer, until one of our daughters accepted a job as a beach lifeguard. Her Daddy wasn't "having it" without going to inspect. Turns out it's a reputable company that's been there a long time. The interesting thing is that there are hardly any Americans. The owner said that their American lifeguards are "lazy." Instead, they have foreign exchange students from all over Europe and Russia. Our daughter is the only American girl. She has YMCA life guarding certifications and work experience that must've paid off. Her past swim team experience gave her to power and drive to swim the mandatory test, 500 yards in under 12 minutes, having practiced for less than a week.
The day after we arrived we set out to find her at her post. She hadn't returned from lunch, so we got to talk with her Polish trainer, who says he makes more money here in half a year than he can with his degree in his home country, which he returns to for the winter months. He also said after working with her for a couple of days that she works harder than the last couple of guys he's trained. After feeling more secure about her environment, we could relax a little and enjoy the beach and the pool with our younger two. Then, my husband decided our daughter with the twins ought to come, also. So, that child of ours packed up their stuff in about 15 minutes and drove four and a half hours by herself, arriving well after midnight, so the babies could go to the ocean for the first time, since they didn't have a plan to vacation either.
Her husband stayed behind, still mourning the loss of his grandmother, who passed just after the babies' second birthday party was underway last weekend. He kindly said they ought to go. For the most part, we shored her and the babies up, and while we were busy enjoying their excitement, our youngest daughter was making a friend, from Ukraine, no less. They played for hours. Then, I finally met her six foot tall mother. She was quick to let me know that she had a limited English vocabulary, although they'd been living in the states for over three years. She's a stay-at-home mom and says even when she is out with other moms, they really don't talk to her.
She was so very happy to have someone to communicate with. She told me so. I asked if they had only the one girl, and when she answered, "Yes, we have been trying for more than nine years, but I thank God for her," I was pretty sure she was a fellow believer. So, I asked and she said, "Yes, how do you say it, 'Baptist?'" I utterly loved hearing her talk, although she was often frustrated with herself to find the right words. When I couldn't figure out what she meant, she would look away and whimsically say, "Never mind."
Our girls wanted to go to the beach that night, so her husband and mine, and she and I got to talk while the kids looked for treasures in the sand and sculpted faces in it. I asked her about church in Ukraine, and she said, "It is Orthodox." Then she touched her heart looking for words and came up with, "Their heart is closed to God ...but our church in America, their hearts are open to God," as she looked up to the sky. "I learn so much about God since I have been here."
After the fireworks, we were walking back up to the hotel and she had her daughter interpret for me, "My mom says, 'You make her feel so free to talk.'" I take that very seriously, especially considering they are here on political asylum, because of Russia's invasion of the border. Freedom probably means a lot more to her in so many ways than it does to me.
Last night, our girls wanted ice cream and to swim once more, but since a storm had blown through, it was too cold and windy outside. So, we sat indoors by the heated pool. Loud and hot as it was, I couldn't let her departure go by without a prayer. I still feel uneasy taking charge of such a sacred thing, but I held her hand and before I could start, she smiled at me and said, "Thank you." After the fact, I realized I may have spoken too quickly for her to understood me, but God did. And if there is one thing I have learned, it's that when we obey, God listens.
And this is why we need to be sober on vacation and everywhere, because we just never know when these things are going to happen.
Friday, June 7, 2019
Sitting by the garden, waiting for the rain, my husband reminded me of the newest preconception brought out by his old hunting truck paired, no less, with his old overalls. He's started taking our youngest son to the high school's football workouts. And at a prior activity with the athletic director, he was rather dismissed, having driven up in the beat-up, old Toyota.
The whole purpose has been to get our son on the team but only on campus for two classes, as our state's new law allows. As far as we know, he will be the first homeschool student in the county, at least at that school, to try it out. His older brother went as far as an out of state boarding school to continue in sports. One older sister went full-time public high school in order to participate, which did not go as planned. So, we hope and pray that this "marriage" will be suitable for our younger son.
Every Christian parent should consider while their children are participating in youth, public team sports that they might get good enough to play in high school, then college, which lends itself to the desire of participating at the highest level, and that is unlikely at a small, private, Christian institution, scholarship or no. So, there your young adult is, on scholarship at a publicly funded university, the system feeding your child that which is "right in his own eyes," just as in the days of the book of Judges that the younger two and I finished up yesterday.
So far, our older children have had the wherewithal not to subscribe to farfetched ideologies, willing and able to debate the teachers. But the student culture is where things get hairy, especially in the subculture of team camaraderie: the music, the language, the "activities." All these things are insidious for a young person away from home who has no one to answer to at the end of the day but the team.
And that's where you hope you still have some influence to encourage that child who is continually in close proximity to what amounts to Paganism (many participants professing Christ, yet denouncing Him in deed) to take some sort of stand, because the student's sitting back and tolerating it is only a lie to tempt them into the "it's not so bad" excuses.
And before they know it, they're one of "them." The truth is that the Christian is either growing or withering. We don't get to make up the option of just standing still. Influence or be influenced.
And that is what we are wanting to convince our younger son of.
"Yes, you're the new guy. But when the coach asks if anybody has music they want to play, speak up...," just like he did yesterday here at home in our daily reading, giving special attention to this verse in John 7, "Judge not according to appearance, but judge righteous judgment."
It is easy to pin that one on the athletic director, since he had a better attitude when he saw my husband drive up in the newer car and in better clothes, or newer overalls anyway. But we all do this to some degree, fair as we may be.
God is perfect in this though. Acts 10:34-35, "Then Peter opened his mouth, and said, Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons. But in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him." Just now, after looking up "respect," I find three definitions before the one most similar to the Bible's, "deference to a right, privilege, privileged position, or someone or something considered to have certain rights or privileges." God does not have "respect" of persons, of positions of authority, yes, but not "respect" among people who believe. So, why do we? And why do we change the term "fear God" to "respect God?" Fearing God is understanding that he is the ultimate authority, the final say, the all in all. So, please do not change my Bible to say that I ought to respect God. I have much more than that for Him. I defer all things to Him and to Him all things I owe.
The whole purpose has been to get our son on the team but only on campus for two classes, as our state's new law allows. As far as we know, he will be the first homeschool student in the county, at least at that school, to try it out. His older brother went as far as an out of state boarding school to continue in sports. One older sister went full-time public high school in order to participate, which did not go as planned. So, we hope and pray that this "marriage" will be suitable for our younger son.
Every Christian parent should consider while their children are participating in youth, public team sports that they might get good enough to play in high school, then college, which lends itself to the desire of participating at the highest level, and that is unlikely at a small, private, Christian institution, scholarship or no. So, there your young adult is, on scholarship at a publicly funded university, the system feeding your child that which is "right in his own eyes," just as in the days of the book of Judges that the younger two and I finished up yesterday.
So far, our older children have had the wherewithal not to subscribe to farfetched ideologies, willing and able to debate the teachers. But the student culture is where things get hairy, especially in the subculture of team camaraderie: the music, the language, the "activities." All these things are insidious for a young person away from home who has no one to answer to at the end of the day but the team.
And that's where you hope you still have some influence to encourage that child who is continually in close proximity to what amounts to Paganism (many participants professing Christ, yet denouncing Him in deed) to take some sort of stand, because the student's sitting back and tolerating it is only a lie to tempt them into the "it's not so bad" excuses.
And before they know it, they're one of "them." The truth is that the Christian is either growing or withering. We don't get to make up the option of just standing still. Influence or be influenced.
And that is what we are wanting to convince our younger son of.
"Yes, you're the new guy. But when the coach asks if anybody has music they want to play, speak up...," just like he did yesterday here at home in our daily reading, giving special attention to this verse in John 7, "Judge not according to appearance, but judge righteous judgment."
It is easy to pin that one on the athletic director, since he had a better attitude when he saw my husband drive up in the newer car and in better clothes, or newer overalls anyway. But we all do this to some degree, fair as we may be.
God is perfect in this though. Acts 10:34-35, "Then Peter opened his mouth, and said, Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons. But in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him." Just now, after looking up "respect," I find three definitions before the one most similar to the Bible's, "deference to a right, privilege, privileged position, or someone or something considered to have certain rights or privileges." God does not have "respect" of persons, of positions of authority, yes, but not "respect" among people who believe. So, why do we? And why do we change the term "fear God" to "respect God?" Fearing God is understanding that he is the ultimate authority, the final say, the all in all. So, please do not change my Bible to say that I ought to respect God. I have much more than that for Him. I defer all things to Him and to Him all things I owe.
Tuesday, June 4, 2019
"It was obvious the indentations on the bullet were teeth marks," maybe human, maybe animal, the implication the same, agony of someone's warrior son, whether he was for or against the cause, fighting for his life.
Mike has always had an interest in all things anthropology. He's dug up an Indian paint pot, convinced the whole family to spelunk, explore old caves, and has recently taken up metal detecting again. Turns out there was a Union Army camp just on the ridge behind us. Our county was a hotbed of Union sympathizers in an otherwise Confederate state. Mike has read the details from the Library of Congress of the troops' movements through our area and shared them with anybody and everybody who will listen.
Our sons and sons-in-law are Mike's detecting companions now, so much so that one son-in-law has moved his weekends around to spend them here, which also brings our daughter and their twin toddler girls into our company. This last trip gave McKala and me time to really talk for the first time in a really long time.
Sons, sons-in-law, fathers, brothers, husbands, I can't conceptualize what it was like having all the men in one's family leave for war, the women and children left unprotected and the soldiers often destitute of basic needs and wounded by the distinct kinds of bullets we're finding. These days, our most common concerns as Christian mothers of young men is whether or not they're "doing right," not whether or not they might die today, tomorrow, or next month. There must have been prostrate praying that we as this "postmodern" nation take for granted and sit back on its "lees" as written in Zephaniah 1:12, "And it shall come to pass at that time, that I will search Jerusalem with candles, and punish the men that are settled on their lees: that say in their heart, The LORD will not do good, neither will he do evil."
On this Memorial Day, with all its swimming and eating, I hope some of our family looked back on that hill and thought of the bewildered, homesick men whose sometimes only recreation was to carve a bullet into a chess piece or an animal head, while waiting for the the next encounter with death.
Recently, Mike has been searching out plantation properties and other camp ridges from maps he's found, asking for permission to detect, sharing history, and getting to know the neighbors, something that he's never really had, neighbors, not for himself anyway. He was always on the road or recovering from the road when he was home.
The other morning, he stepped out of the house and heard a planer. Since he's needing one to make a wooden truck bed, he jumped in the car to see which neighbor it was. That neighbor invited him back, so Sunday he and I went together to search the premises for metal. After some work on a tractor, a couple of hours detecting, and a good practical joke in the breezes under a great big walnut tree, we wound up having tea with him and his wife on their porch, circa 1893, and having a little tour of their house and studios. He's a musician, and she's an artist. And Madalynn, our musician and artist, can't wait to go visit them. Seems like this metal detecting is taking us places, including back into the realm of writing, as he is the one who challenged me to write again, based on the introductory sentence he assigned.
So, here I am on a Tuesday morning doing what I love, after sleeping as long as we could stand the 57 degree chill in the hammocks we hung in our own "campsite" by the fire pit Mike had the kids create yesterday, still none of us having a particular inkling of the trepidation the men must have had, camping behind us March 29 through April 1, 1865 in the cold and the wet of the nor'easter with no way of knowing the Civil War would end in only 14 days.
Mike has always had an interest in all things anthropology. He's dug up an Indian paint pot, convinced the whole family to spelunk, explore old caves, and has recently taken up metal detecting again. Turns out there was a Union Army camp just on the ridge behind us. Our county was a hotbed of Union sympathizers in an otherwise Confederate state. Mike has read the details from the Library of Congress of the troops' movements through our area and shared them with anybody and everybody who will listen.
Our sons and sons-in-law are Mike's detecting companions now, so much so that one son-in-law has moved his weekends around to spend them here, which also brings our daughter and their twin toddler girls into our company. This last trip gave McKala and me time to really talk for the first time in a really long time.
Sons, sons-in-law, fathers, brothers, husbands, I can't conceptualize what it was like having all the men in one's family leave for war, the women and children left unprotected and the soldiers often destitute of basic needs and wounded by the distinct kinds of bullets we're finding. These days, our most common concerns as Christian mothers of young men is whether or not they're "doing right," not whether or not they might die today, tomorrow, or next month. There must have been prostrate praying that we as this "postmodern" nation take for granted and sit back on its "lees" as written in Zephaniah 1:12, "And it shall come to pass at that time, that I will search Jerusalem with candles, and punish the men that are settled on their lees: that say in their heart, The LORD will not do good, neither will he do evil."
On this Memorial Day, with all its swimming and eating, I hope some of our family looked back on that hill and thought of the bewildered, homesick men whose sometimes only recreation was to carve a bullet into a chess piece or an animal head, while waiting for the the next encounter with death.
Recently, Mike has been searching out plantation properties and other camp ridges from maps he's found, asking for permission to detect, sharing history, and getting to know the neighbors, something that he's never really had, neighbors, not for himself anyway. He was always on the road or recovering from the road when he was home.
The other morning, he stepped out of the house and heard a planer. Since he's needing one to make a wooden truck bed, he jumped in the car to see which neighbor it was. That neighbor invited him back, so Sunday he and I went together to search the premises for metal. After some work on a tractor, a couple of hours detecting, and a good practical joke in the breezes under a great big walnut tree, we wound up having tea with him and his wife on their porch, circa 1893, and having a little tour of their house and studios. He's a musician, and she's an artist. And Madalynn, our musician and artist, can't wait to go visit them. Seems like this metal detecting is taking us places, including back into the realm of writing, as he is the one who challenged me to write again, based on the introductory sentence he assigned.
So, here I am on a Tuesday morning doing what I love, after sleeping as long as we could stand the 57 degree chill in the hammocks we hung in our own "campsite" by the fire pit Mike had the kids create yesterday, still none of us having a particular inkling of the trepidation the men must have had, camping behind us March 29 through April 1, 1865 in the cold and the wet of the nor'easter with no way of knowing the Civil War would end in only 14 days.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)