I haven't had much dialogue or even interest in my posts this week on Facebook. Or have I? The men wouldn't dare express approval for the chastisement they might receive from the women who wouldn't dare express their approval for the accountability they might receive from the men.
What they don't know is that this newfound focus on intimacy with my husband isn't random. It's a manifestation from what the Lord called me to several days ago. I had so much happening, so many prayers for so many people. And sometime over that weekend, the Lord called me to a fast.
We had one, my first, at our church some months ago. I still can't explain exactly what occurs, but I do know that it makes me steady. I think the Lord honors our seriousness and vulnerability during that time of drought. When the hunger comes on strong, you pray harder, not for yourself but for others. I got affirmation for that at Wednesday night's service.
I have broken it a few times for fellowship. It looks awfully self righteous to sit back and watch while everyone else partakes of an especially joyous meal. I don't know when it's going to end and I don't know when my next meal will be. I do know though that looking forward to the next one makes it harder; it's actually easier to just not eat.
It's really not about the food at all. I've been careful whom I've told for fear that they may decide starvation is a way to solve their addiction to food. That's not what fasting is about and is a sure way to fail in it. There is an obvious benefit though, that the chains of the stronghold of overeating be broken.
People are noticing that I'm losing weight but I won't weigh. I can't do this for selfish gain. "Are ye so foolish? having begun in the Spirit, are ye now made perfect by the flesh?" This verse in Galatians is speaking of the law versus the Spirit. We can't confuse the two.
I believe that's why I've been losing in the arena of physicality. I've begun over and over to get in shape only to get hurt, get disheartened. My purposes were wrong. My timing was wrong. My ways were wrong.
Over a year ago, I decided to get serious, to read the Bible through and through, to find out who God is. I'm learning that sincere spirituality always leads to action, to physicality. Done in reverse is always for vainglory, even if our intentions start off well..
You see, my confession is that until I gave my body up to the Lord, I was still possessing it as though it were mine to do with what I will. And I may've been following in body but surely not in heart 1 Cor 7:4, "The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband ...," Yes, I know there's more to that verse but we can't be waiting on the other to do the right thing. When they beat us to the punchline, we ought to be ashamed. If there is a contest in marriage, it ought to be who can be best to the other, with not expectation whatsoever of a return.
Our discernment of what is "best" is the controversy though. For the most part, women naturally want sweetness and affection, in turn giving it. As good as that is, for the most part men want passion and intensity. I say again that there is no sacrifice in what comes naturally. I think at least part of the mystery of Christ is that everything in its perfection is the inverse of what comes naturally. That makes it an act of will.
It is an outright act of choice to be physical with our husbands. I doubt there has ever been a man, aside from dysfunction, who said, "I wish my wife were less sexually physical toward me."
This morning in church, there were two couples I took notice of. Both were older than I. And both wives have stewarded their bodies well. One husband could barely keep his hands off his wife. He had his hand around her waist continually and she gave no gesture to deny him. They radiated "oneness."
Now, was she his second wife maybe? If so, maybe the first wife was frigid toward him. Hard words to hear but they're true. He's no less a sinner if so, but neither is the first wife. We wonder why our husbands are clamoring for attention, when we give more to strangers than we do to them.
Case in point: I rub lotion on Virgie's feet at night. I also noticed that DJ's feet need some TLC. Yet, when it entered my mind to do it for my husband, I resisted, procrastinated. As though because he wasn't responding in ways I thought he should that I would withhold such a service.
You say, "But you don't know my situation!" Try me. I have personal anthem songs for heartbreak, destitution, and brokenness. Funny how we think we're "broken" though, because if we really were, we'd be wide open to the power of the Spirit. But we resist, wallow in our despair, embrace martyrdom, and play the victim.
There are no victims in Christ, only victors. It's all in the Manual we refuse to read.
Now, there are some men who would sexually abuse and torment their wives. And there are men who are greedy and can't get "enough" of all women even with a willing wife. These are surely exceptions and are to be dealt with accordingly. But most American wives are not the exception, only lazy and selfish. "Lazy? I work and take care of everything!" The end of the day proves where our priorities lie and if your husband isn't at the top; then, your day has not been a success. Just as I have posted on my refrigerator: "Our day has not been a success if we haven't: studied our BIBLES, taken care of our BODIES, and kept up our BELONGINGS."
How do I know so much? I have been the selfish wife. I have tried to make myself the exception, which Satan always does when he's given free rein in our minds.
"Well, I have no feelings whatsoever for my husband. You don't know what he's done to me."
Try me again. Stop making yourself the exception, and trust Jesus. See, that's the real issue here. You, nor did I, trust Jesus enough to succumb, to simply obey. At one point, I remember writing that I was against, "Just do it." But the Holy Spirit caught wind of that notion and taught me Proverbs 16:3, "Commit thy works unto the LORD and thy thoughts shall be established." Again, the reverse of reason.
So, I've dwelt on that for months and years. The ones of you who've been with me that long know how bad it was. You've seen my husband's public confessions. But this wife has confessions, too. She wasn't loving her husband with her whole heart, because if she had been, she never would have lost it and become indifferent.
I decided the antithesis of feeling "taken" was to give myself away, to pursue my husband. It has taken months to institute, preparedly waiting for a wave to ride.
"But my husband says he's fine with my condition. He loves me anyway." Don't you know that in his humility, you are the chief of sinners? He humbly accepts you, yet you choose not to give him the best gift, the best you. I've been guilty of this for five long years. We forget so readily how much better it is to give than to receive. How right the Bible is about women becoming rulers over men. God forbid a man be honest with his wife for fear that he might hurt her feelings and be ostracized as she licks her wounds. A good man won't insist; he'll love anyway - to our shame.
Shame. Is there any left? We pretend that we're okay with those pounds we've packed on. But I hear every day a woman talking about her weight. My biggest qualm with myself is my "roll." I get, "but you've had all those kids," all the time. I know better than that.
I'm not willing to settle. I want into my husband's inner sanctum. There are only a very few ways to get there and remain. It's a sad day for us women when a 14 year old and 18 year old understand better than we do, have more discipline than we do.
"Oh, they don't have the burdens that we mothers have." True, and they probably won't, because it's all about perspective. Melody and Sloan both have enlisted in, "But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway," 1 Cor. 9:27. They both workout hard AND are honing their cooking skills, even baking, with the discipline of eating in moderation, "Let your moderation be known to all men."
"I've got one on you now - 'exercise profitteth little.'" No, no, you don't - we are a generation of slackers. We don't "work" for anything. I fooled myself for years that I would "work" my body into restoration. Sadly, those jobs are few and far in between, especially in the winter. Recently, I've been exercising with the same intent with which I get up and study my Bible every single morning. There are some things that can't be left to chance. If we "work" more off or "play" more off later that day, then our blessings are multiplied.
Has it occurred to you that when we disregard the vessel we've been given, that we automatically lose the audience of unbelievers who do regard their bodies? Why in the universe would they want to be under an authority which apparently does not offer us the power to maintain our own bodies? It's like my not being able to hear a woman who has disproportionately forgone time with her husband and children to work or to minister to others. God doesn't call a woman away from her family. He doesn't contradict himself; families can minister together, just as we do with Virgie and DJ and Manuel's mother. It's like people who complain of financial instability but won't tithe. It's like people who pray for healing but take poor care of themselves. I'm sick and tired of contradiction in my own life and that of the Church.
Thus, the fasting. You see, although it is about the food, it isn't. I was in the middle of PMS, the most unlikely time to purposefully undergo such a trial. But everywhere I turned there was shaky ground - sin and sickness and serious decisions to be made. So many lives I come in contact with caught up in coldness, in denial. So many sick. Virgie in the hospital. Manuel's autism medicine stimulating him to the point of pulling out his permanent teeth. DJ's (our 35 year old handicapped friend abandoned by his family) permission he's been waiting for to go to church for 6 months denied again. Memaw having complications. Aunt Beverly dying of cancer. McKala's resting heart rate consistently high again. Michael's shoulder surgery. Colds and allergies across the board. Macklynn's falling on another nail, third time in his 10 years.
But God knew there would be more. So much more. So, in the clarity, singlemindedness, and energy of the fast I was able to endure when I learned the details of the rape of the 11 year old girl I'd met at the park - repeatedly done by her mother's boyfriend who is now under $350,000 bond. So too, had my 16 year old cousin who has an IQ of 73, drugged and raped by a 19 year old. There are other things that I am not at liberty to share, but I've been asked to pray about. So, when I'm hungry, I surely have something to get my mind off myself. There are things I wish I didn't know or see, but someone has to pray. Church, we have to pray and people need for us to be heard and to be heard, we need to be in obedience!
So wives, let's get our superspiritual heads out of the clouds on onto our husbands' pillows. I don't know that it'll happen tonight because dying to ourselves is a process, but God knows your heart and will provide corresponding opportunity to your willingness. You will get hurt. You might even get turned down or criticized because he'll surely wonder what's gotten into you and your motives. Grace is a hard thing for someone to understand who hasn't gotten much of it. He might be used to being scolded like a boy. I've had almost out of body experiences while I was correcting my husband, my better senses screaming at me to stop. And know that if I hear you belittle your husband in public, I will think far less of you than of him.
Does your husband ever see somewhere in there the person he married? She shouldn't be gone; she should be better regardless of what life's thrown at her if she claims the blood of Christ. Do you reverance him? Do you know that to revere means "to regard with awe, deference, and devotion." When did you decide to check out, lock the door? Do you not know Roman's 5:8 says, "But God commended his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Will you not extend what was extended to you to your husband? I know he hasn't kept up his end of the bargain, the covenant, but have you? Have you given your absolute all? Because if you have, you know it isn't enough and that only a concentrated choice to know and be in the will of the Lord is the way.
We women give each other a lot of encouragement, as do I often, when what we really need to do is set an example and to reprove. One of my daughters jokingly said to me recently, "We're so much alike. You need to do better, so that I can do better." I sat stunned at the revelation of such a simple statement.
Show people that it's possible to do more than just survive, that there's a reason and a way to endure with longsuffering. Don't be "in fear of amazement" when you're asked to do something drastic. Get ready to ride that wave when it comes your way. His yoke is easy. We make it hard.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Getting Back My Happy Place
Thursday before last, I decided to ride out to see Mike in Tennessee since the kids' effort to do so fell apart. First, I had to stay with Virgie Friday afternoon. In the meantime, Megan changed my oil, rotated my tires and had them balanced, vacuumed and washed the car, AND left me a chocolate toffee bar and a doubleshot coffee in the cup holder!
Miranda drove to pick up Michael from the carpool for Spring Break, then stayed home to sell the rest of the piglets. She and Megan cared for Macklynn and Madalynn while McKala and Melody tagged along with me. We sang our old favorites clear to the other side of Nashville.
We rolled into the frigid temperatures of the town of Monterey 5 hours later. Mike descended from the sleeper of one of the "units" to welcome us.
Saturday morning, I had to get dressed before I had coffee and spent half an hour in the shower trailer in a daze. I changed clothes a couple of times, dropped my stuff more times than that, and tried to brush my hair but it stood on end toward the metal walls.
Breakfast is served at 6:30 and there sat a room full of people I've met and worked with before in a sea of orange volunteer shirts. There was a lot of neck hugging then on to the first site.
It was a big yard with large limbs downed positively everywhere from the ice storm they'd had. I was surprised to see that there were still 3 inches of ice and snow. We took up where the work was left the day before as Mike drove the Skid Steer to move the piles of wood.
When we were done, someone said that the owner of the house, an 81 year old widow, had refused prayer, claiming to be a Buddhist. Everyone was concerned that she might also refuse the customary Bible every home owner is presented with. So, the person standing next me encouraged me to find something to say to her. I was put on the spot and hesitant but saw an opening and took it. It was now or never!
I just started asking questions and told her who I was. We found some things in common. Then, I asked her if she was alone. She said her daughter lives in Florida and her son in Louisiana, and that her husband of 43 years died three years ago. He had a "do not resuscitate" order and she stood by as it was carried out.
She told me they had a code: he would squeeze her hand twice meaning "love you" and she would squeeze his three meaning "love you too." Just before he died he squeezed her hand four times as to outdo her before he left. She made me cry and we hugged red-eyed.
We had to leave but the people who remained said she allowed the prayer and received the Bible. I don't know if was the army of orange working for her or what I said that made an avenue for God's Word to find its way into her home, but I do know her heart was soft after we talked.
God is good to reveal Himself even when we're clumsy. and we don't always have to naildrive the gospel straight into someone to give them God. We just have to step forward and be willing to be a vessel.
The other sites weren't as challenging. The saws and Skid Steer did most of the work, but we got to meet some neat guys who all work/worked at the Savannah River Site, a nuclear reservation. It was good to see intellectuals out there working hard and believing that God is the master engineer!
There was a project squeezed into the schedule and when we arrived, there was a massive guy picking up huge logs. He only needed the equipment to move the trunk for him.
He turned out to be 6'6, 375 pounds and a big cutup who also happens to grow flowers and reverence God. And when he got cleaned up, he came with gift cards and homemade jelly to the host church where we were staying. I think he's one of those people we'll be keeping in touch with!
After I pulled off a moderate dinner among the multitude of choices the volunteer cooks had presented, Mike got us a room at a nice local hotel. I took an extra long shower and he took a nap, which helped him gear up for the other reason I came.
God has dealt with me heavily not to disregard this "due benevolence" to my husband, regardless of my age, condition, mood, circumstances, or how we're feeling toward each other. I've been led kicking and screaming sometimes, but He has profoundly reassured me that it is good (and necessary) in His sight, which means it is my conscious decision to make ready, willing, and able all of my heart, body, mind, and soul, not to worship my husband but to honor my God.
For whatever reason, I woke up the next morning with a migraine. I couldn't see to my left or to my right. The time had changed and I was too confused to figure out when church started. What I did know is that I was ever so glad to have the hotel room to recuperate in.
I took several Benadryl and several Tylenol. I drank several cups of coffee and several cups of Coke. I used the nose spray I always keep with me and Mike went to get Ziploc bags to put ice on my neck.
I was short with him. I knew I was doing it and in my Benadryl delirium, didn't stop myself. He was patient and helpful. By the end of the day, I was shaky but able to go back to the church for dinner. I only had clean the jeans that ordinarily I would wear out with Mike. I was uncomfortable around his fellow workers and volunteers the way I was at the Big Daddy Weave concert. Makes me rethink modesty. I was glad to get back with him to the room after we stopped at Dairy Queen and I thankfully opted for the "mini Blizzard," strawberry, of course.
Monday morning we hugged more necks and hit the road to meet Michael for his orthopedic recheck 4 hours away in Boone, NC. Leaving in the daytime displayed from the highway what looked like tornado damage, tops of trees consistently gone. Sloan was also on her Spring Break and met us there to take Melody and McKala for coffee and pedicures. She is trying so hard to extend herself in any way that she can.
What Michael and I found out per new exam and x-ray is that his collarbone was rubbing his shoulder bone and that the remedy was to shorten it. I talked with Michael and his Daddy afterwards and starting calling the office the next day to advocate surgery this week.
Tuesday, after rebooting and organizing, I took the boys to BJ's Warehouse to restock before our membership runs out. It's just too far now to renew. We had to be back for Macklynn's first baseball practice. Madalynn started karate this week also but on the alternating days of baseball. The older girls have volunteered to help, so that I won't be gone any more evenings than I have to be.
Wednesday we run errands, Melody takes piano, Madalynn learns more self defense, we do some visiting, then we have a fellowship meal and service with the church. This Wednesday Macklynn and Madalynn also had to be at the dentist's office.
Thursday morning Michael had his turn at the dentist's, then at the DMV to finish up his license. While we were there, the ortho office called and said they could do surgery Friday. We only had to come for a consultation that afternoon. Talk about patient care! We had to get straight back for baseball though. McKala kindly met me at the door to take him on.
By late Friday afternoon, Michael had lost one half inch of his collarbone and was coming out from the extra anesthesia it took to put him under. Sloan was waiting there with me and keeping the conversation lively so that I did not need to watch the clock. She had also brought a big box of homemade things to leave with him after she went back to Lynchburg to work for the weekend.
At 5 am this morning, Megan left for Georgia with all the younger ones on a preplanned trip to visit grandparents and ex-coworkers. After kisses and prayers, I went back to sleep.
Due to my monthly rant (yes, PMS has lit on my shoulder once more), the kids had done a good job of their own cleaning, including McKala and Miranda tearing down parts of the barn, and I knew today was the last shot to get my things done since Virgie's family needed me tonight and tomorrow. Don't worry; Michael said that I snored a lot last night and that he preferred McKala as a nurse.
My bags were still packed from last weekend. 150 pounds of salt had to be put in the well filter. Toiletries from BJ's still needed a home. Receipts, mail, and lists had to be sorted. I needed a shower. My bathroom needed to be cleaned. I hadn't exercised in a week. And I was down to one pair of underwear, which isn't saying much (since I only keep 7) except that my laundry has to be done regularly.
As quiet as the house was with the Georgia bunch gone and Miranda at her new job, reality soon set in that it was up to me to do the indoor and outdoor chores of everyone else! How quickly we begin to appreciate the little things and big things that other people help us with.
I got a lot done and was well pleased with everything but what I allowed myself to eat today ...and how I reacted to a phone call before I left. Not saying I was wrong to say what I said, but my feelings get ahead of my reasoning (actually, my "mistrust" ahead of my "trust" for my Lord's care and defense of me) and it's as though I'm a five year old Christian again.
So, as I sit here unable to sleep because of too much caffeine, too much guilt, and too Steakum; Megan and the littles are sleeping at Memaw's, the Harper household is in good hands, Mike is still in Tennessee, and I'm sitting up in one of Virgie's spare beds, glad that my Bible keeps giving me hope for a new day and a new horizon which might hold some rhythm that gets me back to my happy place, home sweet home. I brought my great big cup that McKala bought me (along with a sports bra) just before our trip to Tennessee that says, "Learn from yesterday, live for today, and hope for tomorrow." I'm gonna put that gourmet caramel coffee she gave me in my cup ...and do like it says.
Miranda drove to pick up Michael from the carpool for Spring Break, then stayed home to sell the rest of the piglets. She and Megan cared for Macklynn and Madalynn while McKala and Melody tagged along with me. We sang our old favorites clear to the other side of Nashville.
We rolled into the frigid temperatures of the town of Monterey 5 hours later. Mike descended from the sleeper of one of the "units" to welcome us.
Saturday morning, I had to get dressed before I had coffee and spent half an hour in the shower trailer in a daze. I changed clothes a couple of times, dropped my stuff more times than that, and tried to brush my hair but it stood on end toward the metal walls.
Breakfast is served at 6:30 and there sat a room full of people I've met and worked with before in a sea of orange volunteer shirts. There was a lot of neck hugging then on to the first site.
It was a big yard with large limbs downed positively everywhere from the ice storm they'd had. I was surprised to see that there were still 3 inches of ice and snow. We took up where the work was left the day before as Mike drove the Skid Steer to move the piles of wood.
When we were done, someone said that the owner of the house, an 81 year old widow, had refused prayer, claiming to be a Buddhist. Everyone was concerned that she might also refuse the customary Bible every home owner is presented with. So, the person standing next me encouraged me to find something to say to her. I was put on the spot and hesitant but saw an opening and took it. It was now or never!
I just started asking questions and told her who I was. We found some things in common. Then, I asked her if she was alone. She said her daughter lives in Florida and her son in Louisiana, and that her husband of 43 years died three years ago. He had a "do not resuscitate" order and she stood by as it was carried out.
She told me they had a code: he would squeeze her hand twice meaning "love you" and she would squeeze his three meaning "love you too." Just before he died he squeezed her hand four times as to outdo her before he left. She made me cry and we hugged red-eyed.
We had to leave but the people who remained said she allowed the prayer and received the Bible. I don't know if was the army of orange working for her or what I said that made an avenue for God's Word to find its way into her home, but I do know her heart was soft after we talked.
God is good to reveal Himself even when we're clumsy. and we don't always have to naildrive the gospel straight into someone to give them God. We just have to step forward and be willing to be a vessel.
The other sites weren't as challenging. The saws and Skid Steer did most of the work, but we got to meet some neat guys who all work/worked at the Savannah River Site, a nuclear reservation. It was good to see intellectuals out there working hard and believing that God is the master engineer!
There was a project squeezed into the schedule and when we arrived, there was a massive guy picking up huge logs. He only needed the equipment to move the trunk for him.
He turned out to be 6'6, 375 pounds and a big cutup who also happens to grow flowers and reverence God. And when he got cleaned up, he came with gift cards and homemade jelly to the host church where we were staying. I think he's one of those people we'll be keeping in touch with!
After I pulled off a moderate dinner among the multitude of choices the volunteer cooks had presented, Mike got us a room at a nice local hotel. I took an extra long shower and he took a nap, which helped him gear up for the other reason I came.
God has dealt with me heavily not to disregard this "due benevolence" to my husband, regardless of my age, condition, mood, circumstances, or how we're feeling toward each other. I've been led kicking and screaming sometimes, but He has profoundly reassured me that it is good (and necessary) in His sight, which means it is my conscious decision to make ready, willing, and able all of my heart, body, mind, and soul, not to worship my husband but to honor my God.
For whatever reason, I woke up the next morning with a migraine. I couldn't see to my left or to my right. The time had changed and I was too confused to figure out when church started. What I did know is that I was ever so glad to have the hotel room to recuperate in.
I took several Benadryl and several Tylenol. I drank several cups of coffee and several cups of Coke. I used the nose spray I always keep with me and Mike went to get Ziploc bags to put ice on my neck.
I was short with him. I knew I was doing it and in my Benadryl delirium, didn't stop myself. He was patient and helpful. By the end of the day, I was shaky but able to go back to the church for dinner. I only had clean the jeans that ordinarily I would wear out with Mike. I was uncomfortable around his fellow workers and volunteers the way I was at the Big Daddy Weave concert. Makes me rethink modesty. I was glad to get back with him to the room after we stopped at Dairy Queen and I thankfully opted for the "mini Blizzard," strawberry, of course.
Monday morning we hugged more necks and hit the road to meet Michael for his orthopedic recheck 4 hours away in Boone, NC. Leaving in the daytime displayed from the highway what looked like tornado damage, tops of trees consistently gone. Sloan was also on her Spring Break and met us there to take Melody and McKala for coffee and pedicures. She is trying so hard to extend herself in any way that she can.
What Michael and I found out per new exam and x-ray is that his collarbone was rubbing his shoulder bone and that the remedy was to shorten it. I talked with Michael and his Daddy afterwards and starting calling the office the next day to advocate surgery this week.
Tuesday, after rebooting and organizing, I took the boys to BJ's Warehouse to restock before our membership runs out. It's just too far now to renew. We had to be back for Macklynn's first baseball practice. Madalynn started karate this week also but on the alternating days of baseball. The older girls have volunteered to help, so that I won't be gone any more evenings than I have to be.
Wednesday we run errands, Melody takes piano, Madalynn learns more self defense, we do some visiting, then we have a fellowship meal and service with the church. This Wednesday Macklynn and Madalynn also had to be at the dentist's office.
Thursday morning Michael had his turn at the dentist's, then at the DMV to finish up his license. While we were there, the ortho office called and said they could do surgery Friday. We only had to come for a consultation that afternoon. Talk about patient care! We had to get straight back for baseball though. McKala kindly met me at the door to take him on.
By late Friday afternoon, Michael had lost one half inch of his collarbone and was coming out from the extra anesthesia it took to put him under. Sloan was waiting there with me and keeping the conversation lively so that I did not need to watch the clock. She had also brought a big box of homemade things to leave with him after she went back to Lynchburg to work for the weekend.
At 5 am this morning, Megan left for Georgia with all the younger ones on a preplanned trip to visit grandparents and ex-coworkers. After kisses and prayers, I went back to sleep.
Due to my monthly rant (yes, PMS has lit on my shoulder once more), the kids had done a good job of their own cleaning, including McKala and Miranda tearing down parts of the barn, and I knew today was the last shot to get my things done since Virgie's family needed me tonight and tomorrow. Don't worry; Michael said that I snored a lot last night and that he preferred McKala as a nurse.
My bags were still packed from last weekend. 150 pounds of salt had to be put in the well filter. Toiletries from BJ's still needed a home. Receipts, mail, and lists had to be sorted. I needed a shower. My bathroom needed to be cleaned. I hadn't exercised in a week. And I was down to one pair of underwear, which isn't saying much (since I only keep 7) except that my laundry has to be done regularly.
As quiet as the house was with the Georgia bunch gone and Miranda at her new job, reality soon set in that it was up to me to do the indoor and outdoor chores of everyone else! How quickly we begin to appreciate the little things and big things that other people help us with.
I got a lot done and was well pleased with everything but what I allowed myself to eat today ...and how I reacted to a phone call before I left. Not saying I was wrong to say what I said, but my feelings get ahead of my reasoning (actually, my "mistrust" ahead of my "trust" for my Lord's care and defense of me) and it's as though I'm a five year old Christian again.
So, as I sit here unable to sleep because of too much caffeine, too much guilt, and too Steakum; Megan and the littles are sleeping at Memaw's, the Harper household is in good hands, Mike is still in Tennessee, and I'm sitting up in one of Virgie's spare beds, glad that my Bible keeps giving me hope for a new day and a new horizon which might hold some rhythm that gets me back to my happy place, home sweet home. I brought my great big cup that McKala bought me (along with a sports bra) just before our trip to Tennessee that says, "Learn from yesterday, live for today, and hope for tomorrow." I'm gonna put that gourmet caramel coffee she gave me in my cup ...and do like it says.
Monday, February 16, 2015
Another Year Older
McKala turned 18 on Wednesday. Even though birthdays are home school holidays distinctly ;), she worked and went to church. Melody made her favorite Reese's dessert and 6 of us family, coworkers, and friends went to Olive Garden with her for lunch. I'd bought her a watch a couple of weeks before. I sabotaged the dedication I was making for "her day," as Job would put it, by stumbling on an old album of her and Michael together, the two of them four days from being "Irish twins - born in the same year."
Madalynn's 7th birthday was the next day. So instead of going to church after work, Megan came home and made her a doll cake. Instead of Barbie, she insisted on Elsa from "Frozen." I've sworn off Disney, but I'm the dumby who took her to see it last year before I made my proclamation.
She since was given a dress similar in color to Elsa's and asked that Miranda make her a matching cape, who was also up at midnight making intricate snowflakes to hang from the ceiling. I could've put down my fist and said, "No." Instead, I'm swaying her and confronting, yes, confronting a 7 year old, with, "Let every soul be subject unto the higher power. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be ordained of God," Romans 13:1. Magic is nothing to celebrate and emulate, but somehow we think it's cute for our kids to pretend it is.
Virgie's 96th birthday coincided with Madalynn's, and Madalynn was wholeheartedly willing to share it with her. Virgie backed out of going to eat because of the cold weather, so it was left in Madalynn's hands where to go. The Y, she wanted to swim at the Y. When she was only a few months old, I started putting her in the water with me there. She would fall asleep on my shoulder while I waded back and forth in the waist high warm water of the youth pool.
We went to Red Lobster and then I sat out of the pool for the first time. Miranda got in with her and Macklynn. After all, she'd wanted to take them anyway.
Sometime in the night, I woke up with my throat on fire. I hoped it was because I had been snoring from the heat running. It wasn't.
Friday was the day to bake the cookies Macklynn had sold to raise money for camp this summer. Melody was up and at 'em to help. She cooks daily and has the discipline to work out daily too.
Sloan picked Michael up from school at lunchtime for the 5 hour drive home. Mom and Dad and Maggie were on their way from Georgia when we discovered we had quite another contagious issue at hand.
Since I couldn't make Virgie sick with mine, I got to be here when everyone arrived even though I had to keep a safe distance. Mom passed out presents and I made a pot of chili.
At some point in the evening, we realized that none of our 4 dogs were home. We knew that a local farmer hired someone to shoot animals on site if they caught them near his calves, of which seven had been attacked and had perished this week. We were on pins and needles for hours. Then one showed up, the littlest one, which made us believe even more so that our other dogs had been targeted, even though they're all collared, vaccinated, and well mannered. Finally, while I was tending to something that kept my mind off of it, late in the night someone shouted, "They're here!"
Heartache foregone. I couldn't imagine the grief, the bitterness each child would've had to endure. The dogs are a very present part of our daily lives. I had played it out in my mind just what I would tell that man if he had shot them unnecessarily, because apparently he'd been scoping the neighborhood all day. I wondered how charges might be brought against him (because there is no leash law in our county). And as quickly, God told me I would have to forgive him. And then my mind questioned if he would me my next ministry.
Everyone went to sleep elated and exhausted.
Saturday morning, the bags of cookies had to be decorated and stuffed and delivered. Melody came through again. Mom prepared the breakfast she brought at breakneck speed so that Megan and Granddaddy could go and hear to the "pickin" at the general store.
I threw on some sweat clothes to drive Macklynn around and when we decided not to leave a bag at a house for fear the dog would eat them, I soon forgot and told Macklynn that since we had an extra bag we should sell it. What a glitch! It's happening more and more often. I'm just glad I'm surrounded by enough people to catch me and that Melody had made extras.
Mike and Michael were getting yard equipment repaired at the Stihl store while the older girls were gussying up for
a catered dinner for the fire fighters. Yes, they are undergoing training and, no, I'm not sure what I think of it. I believe they can do it and they don't have children to orphan, so I don't think I can disapprove.
Somewhere in the midst, Dad inducted McKala into the Sig Sauer family. He presents each grandchild with a 9 mm on their 18th birthday. She's a sure shot, always has been, so making her fear for her life would be a really bad idea.
All the while, laundry and dishes had to be kept up, and animals had to be fed and nursed. Miranda and Melody recently hand fed 6 piglets when the mother wouldn't receive them. They're still in a huge crate under a heat lamp. And one of the cats has the skin torn from his elbow which has abscessed, so Miranda's been looking after him. And the goats, well, they get out everywhere.
About 4 pm Mom served up the birthday food
she delivered from home. All was well until she cut me a big piece of her strawberry cake, and I remembered I had strawberry ice cream AND a strawberry Fanta. I'd already told the kids it seemed better on my throat to feed the cold instead of starve it, but I took it too far. At the time it was funny, but about midnight I had to get up and take some Pepto Bismol and sleep sitting up. Valentine's is all but overlooked in our flurry of February birthdays. Even so, my husband was denied any affection because of my consumption. Isn't that what happens every time we pick ourselves over the other? Unless, we have no shame or conviction, of course.
I had just read this week, "Hast thou faith? have it to thyself before God. Happy is he what condemneth not himself in that thing which he alloweth. And he that doubteth is damned if he eat, because he eateth not of faith: for whatsoever is not of faith is sin," Romans 14:22-23. Yes, I know the whole chapter is dealing with food offerings to idols, but where does it not apply here?
In contrast, Sloan, who is as disciplined as Melody in her exercise and diet, began early Saturday preparing a formal dinner for Michael. Not only is his birthday today, Sunday, but it was their first Valentine's. She took off work and left her dorm at Liberty Friday to pick him up at his boarding school.
She put a round table for two in front of their bay window, covered it with a red cloth, laced the room with candles, used her mother's fine china and crystal. and even baked homemade bread. Michael was especially taken aback by how radiant she looked and how good her cheesecake stuffed strawberries were.
They are courting in the true sense of the word. It seems a bit contrary that she is a year and a half his elder and that he cannot yet "support" her. She is willing to wait for that and is making incredible strides in the process.
She has been his fortress. For several months before he left for school in August, they talked every day and as he was tested to his limits, she bolstered him and fed him every scripture and lesson from her classes that she found applicable.
He went into football with undiagnosed injuries to his shoulder and played with undiagnosed Mono for weeks. He was singled out for his stances on virginity (and sexual purity altogether) and clean language. There were plenty against him but there were a few who guarded their behavior around him, perhaps having found something to aspire to.
He has picked up his Bible and claimed his faith as his own. He is bold and confident. Not that he goes without injury. It always hurts when a friend, specifically a roommate, turns on you. He has a new one who hopefully will be a candidate for discipleship. They are far and few in between. Michael has decided to stay whether he wants to or not because of the low morale of so many of what I call "the lost boys."
He has met the academic standard, something neither of was certain he could attain. In their one class system, he has done well in both German I and II and just finished Biology with a 90 average. His Biology teacher is also his track coach. All the coaches agreed that while Michael is in rehab for his shoulder that he needs to focus on footwork, especially hurdles for agility.
He's been bumped up in rank every few weeks since he started and they're already in talks with
him about "leadership" next year.
So, compared with his past few birthdays that've been flops, I'm glad to see some reward for him in this weekend. Last night, he headed back from Sloan's, in the mountains where they grew up. The snow had been falling for hours and thankfully he had his Daddy's old 4 wheel drive. It took him a long time to get here. He narrowly missed T boning someone that fishtailed on the highway. Otherwise, he had the time of his life weathering the storm by himself. I prayed for his return while everyone played Apples to Apples in the floor with the friends they'd brought home from the fire station. A particular one had a rose for Megan and finally gave it to her at midnight.
All except Mike who had to leave at 6:00 am for New Jersey, we were all to go to early church this morning, but it was cancelled because of all the risk. So, Melody, always ready to cook, served Michael chocolate chip pancakes in bed. Before we knew, it was time for him and Mom and Dad and Maggie to be gone again. And they are.
We have Macklynn's birthday to look forward to on Wednesday. Michael suggests that this is good skiing weather and that we should take Macklynn the way we did the others for so many years on a discounted "home school" day. The kids always paid their own ways and we always made it back in one piece.
People tell me that it seems like a lot happens to us because there are so many of us. It's true: we have more to lose ...but we also more to gain.
She since was given a dress similar in color to Elsa's and asked that Miranda make her a matching cape, who was also up at midnight making intricate snowflakes to hang from the ceiling. I could've put down my fist and said, "No." Instead, I'm swaying her and confronting, yes, confronting a 7 year old, with, "Let every soul be subject unto the higher power. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be ordained of God," Romans 13:1. Magic is nothing to celebrate and emulate, but somehow we think it's cute for our kids to pretend it is.Virgie's 96th birthday coincided with Madalynn's, and Madalynn was wholeheartedly willing to share it with her. Virgie backed out of going to eat because of the cold weather, so it was left in Madalynn's hands where to go. The Y, she wanted to swim at the Y. When she was only a few months old, I started putting her in the water with me there. She would fall asleep on my shoulder while I waded back and forth in the waist high warm water of the youth pool.
We went to Red Lobster and then I sat out of the pool for the first time. Miranda got in with her and Macklynn. After all, she'd wanted to take them anyway.
Sometime in the night, I woke up with my throat on fire. I hoped it was because I had been snoring from the heat running. It wasn't.
Friday was the day to bake the cookies Macklynn had sold to raise money for camp this summer. Melody was up and at 'em to help. She cooks daily and has the discipline to work out daily too.
Sloan picked Michael up from school at lunchtime for the 5 hour drive home. Mom and Dad and Maggie were on their way from Georgia when we discovered we had quite another contagious issue at hand.
Since I couldn't make Virgie sick with mine, I got to be here when everyone arrived even though I had to keep a safe distance. Mom passed out presents and I made a pot of chili.
At some point in the evening, we realized that none of our 4 dogs were home. We knew that a local farmer hired someone to shoot animals on site if they caught them near his calves, of which seven had been attacked and had perished this week. We were on pins and needles for hours. Then one showed up, the littlest one, which made us believe even more so that our other dogs had been targeted, even though they're all collared, vaccinated, and well mannered. Finally, while I was tending to something that kept my mind off of it, late in the night someone shouted, "They're here!"
Heartache foregone. I couldn't imagine the grief, the bitterness each child would've had to endure. The dogs are a very present part of our daily lives. I had played it out in my mind just what I would tell that man if he had shot them unnecessarily, because apparently he'd been scoping the neighborhood all day. I wondered how charges might be brought against him (because there is no leash law in our county). And as quickly, God told me I would have to forgive him. And then my mind questioned if he would me my next ministry.Everyone went to sleep elated and exhausted.
Saturday morning, the bags of cookies had to be decorated and stuffed and delivered. Melody came through again. Mom prepared the breakfast she brought at breakneck speed so that Megan and Granddaddy could go and hear to the "pickin" at the general store.
I threw on some sweat clothes to drive Macklynn around and when we decided not to leave a bag at a house for fear the dog would eat them, I soon forgot and told Macklynn that since we had an extra bag we should sell it. What a glitch! It's happening more and more often. I'm just glad I'm surrounded by enough people to catch me and that Melody had made extras.
Mike and Michael were getting yard equipment repaired at the Stihl store while the older girls were gussying up fora catered dinner for the fire fighters. Yes, they are undergoing training and, no, I'm not sure what I think of it. I believe they can do it and they don't have children to orphan, so I don't think I can disapprove.
Somewhere in the midst, Dad inducted McKala into the Sig Sauer family. He presents each grandchild with a 9 mm on their 18th birthday. She's a sure shot, always has been, so making her fear for her life would be a really bad idea.
About 4 pm Mom served up the birthday food
she delivered from home. All was well until she cut me a big piece of her strawberry cake, and I remembered I had strawberry ice cream AND a strawberry Fanta. I'd already told the kids it seemed better on my throat to feed the cold instead of starve it, but I took it too far. At the time it was funny, but about midnight I had to get up and take some Pepto Bismol and sleep sitting up. Valentine's is all but overlooked in our flurry of February birthdays. Even so, my husband was denied any affection because of my consumption. Isn't that what happens every time we pick ourselves over the other? Unless, we have no shame or conviction, of course.
I had just read this week, "Hast thou faith? have it to thyself before God. Happy is he what condemneth not himself in that thing which he alloweth. And he that doubteth is damned if he eat, because he eateth not of faith: for whatsoever is not of faith is sin," Romans 14:22-23. Yes, I know the whole chapter is dealing with food offerings to idols, but where does it not apply here?
In contrast, Sloan, who is as disciplined as Melody in her exercise and diet, began early Saturday preparing a formal dinner for Michael. Not only is his birthday today, Sunday, but it was their first Valentine's. She took off work and left her dorm at Liberty Friday to pick him up at his boarding school.She put a round table for two in front of their bay window, covered it with a red cloth, laced the room with candles, used her mother's fine china and crystal. and even baked homemade bread. Michael was especially taken aback by how radiant she looked and how good her cheesecake stuffed strawberries were.
They are courting in the true sense of the word. It seems a bit contrary that she is a year and a half his elder and that he cannot yet "support" her. She is willing to wait for that and is making incredible strides in the process.
She has been his fortress. For several months before he left for school in August, they talked every day and as he was tested to his limits, she bolstered him and fed him every scripture and lesson from her classes that she found applicable.
He went into football with undiagnosed injuries to his shoulder and played with undiagnosed Mono for weeks. He was singled out for his stances on virginity (and sexual purity altogether) and clean language. There were plenty against him but there were a few who guarded their behavior around him, perhaps having found something to aspire to. He has picked up his Bible and claimed his faith as his own. He is bold and confident. Not that he goes without injury. It always hurts when a friend, specifically a roommate, turns on you. He has a new one who hopefully will be a candidate for discipleship. They are far and few in between. Michael has decided to stay whether he wants to or not because of the low morale of so many of what I call "the lost boys."
He has met the academic standard, something neither of was certain he could attain. In their one class system, he has done well in both German I and II and just finished Biology with a 90 average. His Biology teacher is also his track coach. All the coaches agreed that while Michael is in rehab for his shoulder that he needs to focus on footwork, especially hurdles for agility.
He's been bumped up in rank every few weeks since he started and they're already in talks with
him about "leadership" next year.
So, compared with his past few birthdays that've been flops, I'm glad to see some reward for him in this weekend. Last night, he headed back from Sloan's, in the mountains where they grew up. The snow had been falling for hours and thankfully he had his Daddy's old 4 wheel drive. It took him a long time to get here. He narrowly missed T boning someone that fishtailed on the highway. Otherwise, he had the time of his life weathering the storm by himself. I prayed for his return while everyone played Apples to Apples in the floor with the friends they'd brought home from the fire station. A particular one had a rose for Megan and finally gave it to her at midnight.
All except Mike who had to leave at 6:00 am for New Jersey, we were all to go to early church this morning, but it was cancelled because of all the risk. So, Melody, always ready to cook, served Michael chocolate chip pancakes in bed. Before we knew, it was time for him and Mom and Dad and Maggie to be gone again. And they are.
We have Macklynn's birthday to look forward to on Wednesday. Michael suggests that this is good skiing weather and that we should take Macklynn the way we did the others for so many years on a discounted "home school" day. The kids always paid their own ways and we always made it back in one piece.
People tell me that it seems like a lot happens to us because there are so many of us. It's true: we have more to lose ...but we also more to gain.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
This Too Must Go
Is God telling me or you to stop doing something that seems completely innocent? For me yesterday, it was Facebook, not as a mock fast but at the very least as a temporary time saver. His word didn't come through my mind but through the voice of my daughter. The defensive me wanted to shout and did, "No matter how little I do something, it's never good enough. I can't have anything!"
The Holy Spirit dealt with me in the night and told me that this too must go, not because of any particular evil but because of what is best. How often do we compare to the worst? "Well, at least I'm not this or that?" Really? Is that all we can muster up for God?
My time is at a premium now and I can't decide if my writing is for me or if it's for the advancement of the kingdom; and until I get some other things in order, I won't get an answer. Again my anchor verse rings true, "Commit that works unto the LORD, and thy thoughts shall be established," Proverbs 16:3.
Communication is what I love. We're supposed to do what we're good at, right? Like I told one of our girls this week, outside of best effort, there is no sacrifice in doing what comes naturally.
How funny that gab comes easy to a woman but she's to be in silence at church. She is to win over her husband through her behavior instead of her words. I said recently on Facebook that I believe God doesn't forbid or require some things, because he wants us to choose. Then and only then, we step into the realm of the understanding of grace. We receive our marching orders directly from the King, not by bypassing the Bible but by having poured over it, having obeyed it whether we understood it or not. That's what real faith is. And that's what I have to go on right now, and always.
Then why not put my faith to pen on Facebook? There's this thing that bothers me. A picture gets dozens of likes, the recounting of an experience gets tens more, but a verse gets a mere handful. I'm reminded to be thankful for that handful because that's whom it spoke to. I just can't get past, "For we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord," 2 Cor 4:5. I'm tempted to count and view my approvals. There's no godliness in that and the devil knows it.
When I ever come to terms with all this and if I'm "allowed" back in the discipline of time, I'll see you on the other side. I don't forget who you are and what your needs are. Therein is much of my problem: the intimacy of "knowing" so much about so many people I care about. I want to communicate to each heart, I really do. But I'm only one person and my mind becomes so consumed that I can hardly articulate. Ask the people I've been around lately. Maybe I'm wrong; maybe I'm doubting what I'm capable of; maybe I take things to heart too hard.
All I know is the Spirit has spoken. And I will by choice obey.
The Holy Spirit dealt with me in the night and told me that this too must go, not because of any particular evil but because of what is best. How often do we compare to the worst? "Well, at least I'm not this or that?" Really? Is that all we can muster up for God?
My time is at a premium now and I can't decide if my writing is for me or if it's for the advancement of the kingdom; and until I get some other things in order, I won't get an answer. Again my anchor verse rings true, "Commit that works unto the LORD, and thy thoughts shall be established," Proverbs 16:3.
Communication is what I love. We're supposed to do what we're good at, right? Like I told one of our girls this week, outside of best effort, there is no sacrifice in doing what comes naturally.
How funny that gab comes easy to a woman but she's to be in silence at church. She is to win over her husband through her behavior instead of her words. I said recently on Facebook that I believe God doesn't forbid or require some things, because he wants us to choose. Then and only then, we step into the realm of the understanding of grace. We receive our marching orders directly from the King, not by bypassing the Bible but by having poured over it, having obeyed it whether we understood it or not. That's what real faith is. And that's what I have to go on right now, and always.
Then why not put my faith to pen on Facebook? There's this thing that bothers me. A picture gets dozens of likes, the recounting of an experience gets tens more, but a verse gets a mere handful. I'm reminded to be thankful for that handful because that's whom it spoke to. I just can't get past, "For we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord," 2 Cor 4:5. I'm tempted to count and view my approvals. There's no godliness in that and the devil knows it.
When I ever come to terms with all this and if I'm "allowed" back in the discipline of time, I'll see you on the other side. I don't forget who you are and what your needs are. Therein is much of my problem: the intimacy of "knowing" so much about so many people I care about. I want to communicate to each heart, I really do. But I'm only one person and my mind becomes so consumed that I can hardly articulate. Ask the people I've been around lately. Maybe I'm wrong; maybe I'm doubting what I'm capable of; maybe I take things to heart too hard.
All I know is the Spirit has spoken. And I will by choice obey.
Friday, October 24, 2014
Playing With Fire
I haven't blogged since August 28, 2013. I wouldn't even know THAT much if I hadn't finally remembered the name of this site.
I haven't been silent altogether. I've written hundreds of pages that have yet to be reviewed. Wanting for God's timing, it seems He's waiting to know that I am fully surrendered.
This morning words came to me almost involuntarily. Not knowing if they were haunting me or drawing me forward, I prayed in the shower as they would not cease. It must be something akin to an artist who sees his work before it's done or like Melody, who hears a song and her fingers find it.
I had an experience, a test.
I had what I considered to be the perfect job dropped into my lap a few months ago. A point of perfection is that I would not be dealing with any men, per se. Until last night.
I was dusting a myriad of containers and figurines, when he showed up. I happened to have had make-up on because I had been to lunch.
He shook my hand the way a gentleman should but soon gave himself permission to speak undauntingly of me to her. She said, "Why, she's married." He said, "I am too,"
He justified by saying, "I can still look at the menu but just not order,"
A battle immediately raged in my heart. Who would overcome, the old Michelle who is flattered or the new Michelle who is crucified? This very subject had been a sore spot for me for weeks, except that I was on the losing end. I thought to speak up and tell him that much, and I did.
It hardly dissuaded him. How easy it is to believe that we are the anomaly and that they don't speak or feel that way about just anyone? How ignorant are we to believe the nuances of Satan himself?
As he began to profess himself a Christian, working in the church, I soon had ground to stand on. This morning, much too late, I thought, "This was a self proclaimed 'brother' but he was not treating me as a sister." He wasn't crude or creepy. In fact, he was quite the opposite, well spoken and mannerly.
In the back of your mind, you are doubting me, "Why is this even an issue for you. It isn't for me." Oh really? Your body is dead already? Have you crucified it for the wrong reasons, for your bitterness against being used? I get that, I do. But you were premature. There is a place that I have begged and found very recently where God grants a separation for His purposes, where I can finally view this body as nothing more than an aging vessel that is transporting my soul to eternity; and in the meantime, its desires and needs can be slayed as my Christ's body was. Not so much though that I deny pleasure or service to the husband of my youth, regardless of his own walk or understandings, as I, by the the grace of divinity, ask for nothing and expect nothing in return. Brutally easier said than done, but my spirit is being prepared and made wise for it, even as I write.
So, to this encounter, this man, this brother, I wanted to say something, to confront. For every instance I have ever tried, it has always failed. Truth is that the man who is attracted for physical purposes is soon attracted more for the morality a woman portrays in her argument to show him his error.
I write here in hopes than someone will "get it," that someone will accept that sin begins in the heart, where it covets and longs, which when given the right opportunity begins to commit adultery or at the very least starts to compare what it has to what it doesn't and becomes discontent. "A double minded man is unstable in all his ways," James 1: 8.
The words follow and if fallen on receptive ears, quickly becomes a done deed. For what had been considered innocent play and recreation, stimulation has been passed to another prideful, lonely, and/or greedy heart. The temptation, the using, the hurting of another's faith has begun and resists expulsion tooth and nail.
How do we women get into the heads of men what it's like to be continually hunted, continually the prey? No wonder that girls learn this early and use it to their advantage. But we grow tired and weary, and, yes, bitter, ever searching for that one who will give more than he takes. But wait. How do WE become the ones who give more than we take? Does it not qualify us to stay the course no matter to whom we have committed because the Lord compels us to Himself (2 Cor. 5:14) in spite of the facts. That thing every girl and woman desires deep in her bosom. Approval. There is NO peace until we find that no man's approval, no father's, no husband's, no nobody's matters when we have found through trust and obedience that of our Jesus'.
Alone in His presence in a state of repentance, confusion, brokenness, bewilderment - whatever it takes - get there. To skirt around it, begs an answer to, "How do we know what He ISN'T doing because of what we ARE doing?"
Too, I would ask this man I met, "If your wife would not find out your thoughts or perhaps is even all right with them, why doesn't it matter that it sorrows your Saviour?"
Distractions of the flesh prevent us from revival. I would tell him to return to his wife, whether she is disconnected from him or not, and guide her in leadership and affection until he has won her; and if he cannot and he endures, God will honor him all the better in the end, because he had no earthly reward but the name of Jesus.
I haven't been silent altogether. I've written hundreds of pages that have yet to be reviewed. Wanting for God's timing, it seems He's waiting to know that I am fully surrendered.
This morning words came to me almost involuntarily. Not knowing if they were haunting me or drawing me forward, I prayed in the shower as they would not cease. It must be something akin to an artist who sees his work before it's done or like Melody, who hears a song and her fingers find it.
I had an experience, a test.
I had what I considered to be the perfect job dropped into my lap a few months ago. A point of perfection is that I would not be dealing with any men, per se. Until last night.
I was dusting a myriad of containers and figurines, when he showed up. I happened to have had make-up on because I had been to lunch.
He shook my hand the way a gentleman should but soon gave himself permission to speak undauntingly of me to her. She said, "Why, she's married." He said, "I am too,"
He justified by saying, "I can still look at the menu but just not order,"
A battle immediately raged in my heart. Who would overcome, the old Michelle who is flattered or the new Michelle who is crucified? This very subject had been a sore spot for me for weeks, except that I was on the losing end. I thought to speak up and tell him that much, and I did.
It hardly dissuaded him. How easy it is to believe that we are the anomaly and that they don't speak or feel that way about just anyone? How ignorant are we to believe the nuances of Satan himself?
As he began to profess himself a Christian, working in the church, I soon had ground to stand on. This morning, much too late, I thought, "This was a self proclaimed 'brother' but he was not treating me as a sister." He wasn't crude or creepy. In fact, he was quite the opposite, well spoken and mannerly.
In the back of your mind, you are doubting me, "Why is this even an issue for you. It isn't for me." Oh really? Your body is dead already? Have you crucified it for the wrong reasons, for your bitterness against being used? I get that, I do. But you were premature. There is a place that I have begged and found very recently where God grants a separation for His purposes, where I can finally view this body as nothing more than an aging vessel that is transporting my soul to eternity; and in the meantime, its desires and needs can be slayed as my Christ's body was. Not so much though that I deny pleasure or service to the husband of my youth, regardless of his own walk or understandings, as I, by the the grace of divinity, ask for nothing and expect nothing in return. Brutally easier said than done, but my spirit is being prepared and made wise for it, even as I write.
So, to this encounter, this man, this brother, I wanted to say something, to confront. For every instance I have ever tried, it has always failed. Truth is that the man who is attracted for physical purposes is soon attracted more for the morality a woman portrays in her argument to show him his error.
I write here in hopes than someone will "get it," that someone will accept that sin begins in the heart, where it covets and longs, which when given the right opportunity begins to commit adultery or at the very least starts to compare what it has to what it doesn't and becomes discontent. "A double minded man is unstable in all his ways," James 1: 8.
The words follow and if fallen on receptive ears, quickly becomes a done deed. For what had been considered innocent play and recreation, stimulation has been passed to another prideful, lonely, and/or greedy heart. The temptation, the using, the hurting of another's faith has begun and resists expulsion tooth and nail.
How do we women get into the heads of men what it's like to be continually hunted, continually the prey? No wonder that girls learn this early and use it to their advantage. But we grow tired and weary, and, yes, bitter, ever searching for that one who will give more than he takes. But wait. How do WE become the ones who give more than we take? Does it not qualify us to stay the course no matter to whom we have committed because the Lord compels us to Himself (2 Cor. 5:14) in spite of the facts. That thing every girl and woman desires deep in her bosom. Approval. There is NO peace until we find that no man's approval, no father's, no husband's, no nobody's matters when we have found through trust and obedience that of our Jesus'.
Alone in His presence in a state of repentance, confusion, brokenness, bewilderment - whatever it takes - get there. To skirt around it, begs an answer to, "How do we know what He ISN'T doing because of what we ARE doing?"
Too, I would ask this man I met, "If your wife would not find out your thoughts or perhaps is even all right with them, why doesn't it matter that it sorrows your Saviour?"
Distractions of the flesh prevent us from revival. I would tell him to return to his wife, whether she is disconnected from him or not, and guide her in leadership and affection until he has won her; and if he cannot and he endures, God will honor him all the better in the end, because he had no earthly reward but the name of Jesus.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Ernie's Barn
It was close but the kids and I managed to make it to the picnic at the Ashe County Library yesterday. It was good to see the faces of the people who didn't expect us and even better to see the delight of the one who did.
I couldn't have all the kids up there and not go see Mrs. Poe. We shared a driveway tucked back in the Blue Ridge Mountains for 5 years. Since we've left, she lost her husband of over 50 years. She tells us that she thinks of us daily, which makes it all the worse that I forgot to call her on her birthday in June.
We all sat out on her front porch in the chilly mountain air and caught her up on all our comings and goings. She always seems so pleased to hear them. I noticed her frame, that not long ago used to do the yardwork and clean the local bank, was more feeble than usual. She told me once after Mr. Poe's passing that sometimes she just lies in bed in the morning because she doesn't know what to get up and do without him. She says she's fine except for an upcoming cataract surgery.
I left unconvinced and went with the kids to see another neighbor, Ernie. Michael walked up to the window and announced himself. He came straightway to the door, excited to see us. He immediately said he had something to show us. When he opened the door to the living quarters of the arena, Megan turned around to me smiling and said it smelled just the same, with some wonderful aroma his wife always used.
When we entered the ring, he told us to all get into the train he'd made since the last time we'd come. And he wasn't kidding. He took off pulling us with his 4 wheeler in the dark. That's something we never could've imagined would happen! That's what I mean about LETTING God make things happen, instead of us people MAKING things happen.
Thankful that he could pull us all back up the hill, we met Big John, a magnificent 18 hand high Belgian blonde. Then we met Little Joe, not enough hands to count but that didn't matter to Madalynn. Macklynn found a magnet and trolled the barn for metal while we talked about old times and Cricket the mule, who instead of being broken would draw in her head and fall over! I'm really glad Megan got to revisit some of her best memories.
Ernie went over to the corner and came out on stilts, him 70 years old! The kids had to give it a whirl and couldn't pass up the 2 seater bicycle contraption either. All in all it was the nicest time we've all had together in forever. The icing on the cake was Ernie's showing us the pictures of the terminally ill children who've been coming to do some of the very same things every Tuesday. We had no idea and were moved by the prize he puts on it.
By 10 pm, we'd had our stay and needed to set out for home an hour away, not before stopping and picking up the 2 other cars. Miranda assisted Megan in restoring the wrecked car to driving condition for a little over $200 in parts, including 2 wheels. Somehow, Megan was given 4 new tires, also! Provision much?!
The 4 cars were on the way to New Hope and not a minute too soon. Michael had done his share by rotating the tires on the van Friday morning but ran into something that took 4 hours to get back together. Everyone was plain worn out. Megan had worked all week and then on Mike's car. Miranda was sick and up a lot of Saturday night making all manner of terrible sinus sounds. McKala had been up 'til 1 am and up for work at 6 am. Michael had gotten back from his game at 2 am. Melody had cooked for the picnic and babysat Madalynn while Macklynn was on the field at 9:45 am.
Church didn't happen this morning. I'm okay with it; although, as a friend said, "If you miss Kevin (our pastor) speak, you always miss a good sermon."
I began my late morning with Exodus and coffee. Even though, I don't normally put much effort into cooking on Sundays, I decided homemade pizza was in order. It's quite a process, but I knew I had all afternoon. Madalynn and I took the dough with us to rise pondside, while McKala made the sauce. It was all I could do to come back in from the sun. It's as though the heat is the hand of God himself.
Right now, Megan is catching a show with Mike that he and I watched earlier about the Roll Tide and War Eagle rivalry. That's after she watched "Pride and Prejudice" for the umpteenth time with her sisters. Michael and Macklynn started a fire and have been cat-fishing. We're all resting up for another big week.
Miranda's first day back to work is tomorrow. We have to finish cleaning and working on the cars. Michael has to fix the chicken coup because the piglet's decided he can come and go as he pleases. Then he has to go "throw hay," stack bails 8 high from the field onto a moving trailer, for a neighbor. He'll miss practice again; but after the 4 sacks he made Friday night, hopefully Coach won't say much! Macklynn will have 3 nights of practice, also. Melody will help bake cookies for the first time at church Tuesday while I'm at counseling. Madalynn will start her much anticipated children's choir practice Wednesday night. But you know what? I couldn't ask for much more of God's hand in the children's lives because we're "more than just living".
All this but I can't stop thinking about my friend, Christi, a bridesmaid of mine and fellow writer, and her husband, Rob, who just underwent emergency surgery only to find out it's a malignant brain tumor. I'd like to think it is only there so that God can reveal his divinity through their faith.
"The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him; and he will shew them his covenant," ~ Psalm 25:14.
I couldn't have all the kids up there and not go see Mrs. Poe. We shared a driveway tucked back in the Blue Ridge Mountains for 5 years. Since we've left, she lost her husband of over 50 years. She tells us that she thinks of us daily, which makes it all the worse that I forgot to call her on her birthday in June.
We all sat out on her front porch in the chilly mountain air and caught her up on all our comings and goings. She always seems so pleased to hear them. I noticed her frame, that not long ago used to do the yardwork and clean the local bank, was more feeble than usual. She told me once after Mr. Poe's passing that sometimes she just lies in bed in the morning because she doesn't know what to get up and do without him. She says she's fine except for an upcoming cataract surgery.
I left unconvinced and went with the kids to see another neighbor, Ernie. Michael walked up to the window and announced himself. He came straightway to the door, excited to see us. He immediately said he had something to show us. When he opened the door to the living quarters of the arena, Megan turned around to me smiling and said it smelled just the same, with some wonderful aroma his wife always used.
Thankful that he could pull us all back up the hill, we met Big John, a magnificent 18 hand high Belgian blonde. Then we met Little Joe, not enough hands to count but that didn't matter to Madalynn. Macklynn found a magnet and trolled the barn for metal while we talked about old times and Cricket the mule, who instead of being broken would draw in her head and fall over! I'm really glad Megan got to revisit some of her best memories.
Ernie went over to the corner and came out on stilts, him 70 years old! The kids had to give it a whirl and couldn't pass up the 2 seater bicycle contraption either. All in all it was the nicest time we've all had together in forever. The icing on the cake was Ernie's showing us the pictures of the terminally ill children who've been coming to do some of the very same things every Tuesday. We had no idea and were moved by the prize he puts on it. 
By 10 pm, we'd had our stay and needed to set out for home an hour away, not before stopping and picking up the 2 other cars. Miranda assisted Megan in restoring the wrecked car to driving condition for a little over $200 in parts, including 2 wheels. Somehow, Megan was given 4 new tires, also! Provision much?! The 4 cars were on the way to New Hope and not a minute too soon. Michael had done his share by rotating the tires on the van Friday morning but ran into something that took 4 hours to get back together. Everyone was plain worn out. Megan had worked all week and then on Mike's car. Miranda was sick and up a lot of Saturday night making all manner of terrible sinus sounds. McKala had been up 'til 1 am and up for work at 6 am. Michael had gotten back from his game at 2 am. Melody had cooked for the picnic and babysat Madalynn while Macklynn was on the field at 9:45 am.
Church didn't happen this morning. I'm okay with it; although, as a friend said, "If you miss Kevin (our pastor) speak, you always miss a good sermon."
I began my late morning with Exodus and coffee. Even though, I don't normally put much effort into cooking on Sundays, I decided homemade pizza was in order. It's quite a process, but I knew I had all afternoon. Madalynn and I took the dough with us to rise pondside, while McKala made the sauce. It was all I could do to come back in from the sun. It's as though the heat is the hand of God himself.
Right now, Megan is catching a show with Mike that he and I watched earlier about the Roll Tide and War Eagle rivalry. That's after she watched "Pride and Prejudice" for the umpteenth time with her sisters. Michael and Macklynn started a fire and have been cat-fishing. We're all resting up for another big week.
Miranda's first day back to work is tomorrow. We have to finish cleaning and working on the cars. Michael has to fix the chicken coup because the piglet's decided he can come and go as he pleases. Then he has to go "throw hay," stack bails 8 high from the field onto a moving trailer, for a neighbor. He'll miss practice again; but after the 4 sacks he made Friday night, hopefully Coach won't say much! Macklynn will have 3 nights of practice, also. Melody will help bake cookies for the first time at church Tuesday while I'm at counseling. Madalynn will start her much anticipated children's choir practice Wednesday night. But you know what? I couldn't ask for much more of God's hand in the children's lives because we're "more than just living".
All this but I can't stop thinking about my friend, Christi, a bridesmaid of mine and fellow writer, and her husband, Rob, who just underwent emergency surgery only to find out it's a malignant brain tumor. I'd like to think it is only there so that God can reveal his divinity through their faith.
"The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him; and he will shew them his covenant," ~ Psalm 25:14.
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Ain't Gotta Be Bad to Be Fun
I realized we had to start preparing early this year for our 4th of July party. So much was undone from last year. We've worked on the maintenance bit by bit, but much has gotten in the way of it: Mike working in Oklahoma, Megan and Miranda rejoining us, McKala working, Michael interning and making earrings hand over fist, and all going to and working at summer camp and VBS (which I might've blogged about if I'd had the time). Melody made friends with a Godly family there and has been spending time with them instead of fretting over worldly things. I couldn't be more thankful for it.
Who would complain about such good things? Apparently me! The night before the party I lost my mind on everybody, even though I'd given them permission to do the things that took them away from time on the house and yard. I was overtired and certain we wouldn't be able to make things presentable before the "event".
The day before I was the one who had to be gone from home all day. I had to take Melody to her orthodontist appointment and we had to finish holiday shopping. I didn't buy any decoration that isn't "Made in America"! Later, I had my regular Tuesday night "session"/class ...actually, counseling.
Mike had asked me Monday if I'd be home to receive a package on Tuesday. When I finally dragged in at a quarter 'til 9, McKala said I had something on the chest of drawers in our bedroom. I found a plane ticket there and while I was rambling through my mind what that meant, Mike walked out of our bathroom. He'd been gone to Moore, Oklahoma for 5 weeks. I screamed like an Army wife would! I'd just told him last week that he'd been gone so long that I felt like I truly missed him and that we had a new place to start from. Call it what you will but it was the truth.
Here he sits beside me watching "American Pickers" as I recount what turned out to be our best party ever. Thursday morning everybody got up, even though Megan and Miranda had driven back from Oklahoma 18 hours arriving at midnight. Melody decorated with streamers and balloons, flowers and books; Michael pressure washed; McKala headed to work but had already taken on the clutter, floors, and baseboards with Macklynn and Madalynn; Miranda painted; Megan pressed almost 100 burgers (I bought beef every time I thought it was a good price, not knowing I'd stocked up well over 30 pounds) and I push mowed (which God knows I need the exercise from), while Mike took the kids intermittently for rides on the Harley he'd rented the day before.
He took me to Logan's for our 24th anniversary that was Monday! We got to witness for the first time TOGETHER as our waitress divulged the details of her life and listened intently as we told her the parts of our story that were similar to her and what God has done with them. He drove straight over to the dealership to rent himself a little piece of freedom and although I needed to be preparing for the party that night, I found myself on the back of that motorcycle.
It's completely awesome that he got to be home for the party since it all started years ago because the 4th of July is his favorite holiday. It'd been raining for days though and we weren't sure how it'd go, nor was anyone else. It got off to a slow start but within the hour, there was hardly anywhere else to put food or people. Kids were jumping into the pond. Our patriotic compilation was playing. "The Warrior Song" was on when I passed through the carport. I half heartedly apologized for the hard core nature of it, not realizing that we had a Marine among us ...who'd just been doing flips off the trampoline into the water :)
There were pick-up games of basketball in the driveway and pick-up games of checkers on the front porch. The teens soon gathered around the water slide Michael put together before he grilled those dozens of burgers. Since there were upwards of 60 people, I asked Mike if he would pray with the "dry ones" in the carport so we could eat in shifts. It's still odd yet wonderful to hear him do that.
The brindle Pit Bull puppy Michael brought home Wednesday from the Vet's office and named Pippy Lou was a huge hit. I don't think she was put down for more than a few minutes. She even got to spend part of the evening hammocking with some of the kids. Our new piglet was a close second for attention.
As the mounds of burgers, salads, treats, and fruit disappeared, the lighting of the bonfire began while children swam around the pond and others were swung on the swings. I was utterly surrounded by friends, not just any friends but the kind, new and old, who've shared with us in our times of need and our times of celebration, people who love God to their cores, people who've brought us food and clothes; mowed our grass; taught and lent their ears to us; opened their homes to and smiled upon us despite their own tiredness, loneliness, sickness, hardship, or busyness.
Here was a spectacle of a night ...without lewdness: cursing, bikini baring, drinking, bickering, or making out. We did have a close call with the music though! As McKala and I were picking out the songs from iTunes on Sunday, I added a favorite of mine. It's the story of how a rock singer "sold his soul" to the devil to become famous, but realizes he's really just a country boy patriot at heart with a "Don't Tread on Me" flag flying above his property. Problem is that although he says "drinking from the bottle, that's not me", he also said, "but I smoke a little weed". We discovered it after it was on all 12 of the CDs McKala burned for "party favors". I can't imagine how I'dve explained that to our pastor's family when they got it home! So, now I have a dozen on them stacked on my desk ;)
Thank God, we escaped injuries and arguments and storms. The display went off without a hitch after the kids played with sparklers, made s'mores, and settled down on blankets. It didn't start raining until the last 2 cars were about to leave. Michael offered to retrieve one to which she originally said "no", but laughingly passed her keys to him after he "insisted". And it's a good thing because he slid right down the yard to get to it. I had to pretreat his shirt down the front and the back! She snickered, "That could've been me!" ...love her humor, and the dedication of another: that although quite pregnant and adorably so, she had the sink full of suds to wash up even though almost everyone else was outside.
These are "my people". This is "my country" in more ways than one. All this has inspired lots of questions from the kids. I believe we'll be cracking a few of those books we decorated with before they make it back to the shelves. "Glory, glory, hallelujah" is taking new form! The fact that America was founded on all that is wholesome is being cemented into the hearts and minds of our family through times like this past Thursday night.
Today, we were still wondering whose stuff is whose hanging on our line and we were eating leftover hamburgers ...and that's just fine.
Who would complain about such good things? Apparently me! The night before the party I lost my mind on everybody, even though I'd given them permission to do the things that took them away from time on the house and yard. I was overtired and certain we wouldn't be able to make things presentable before the "event".
The day before I was the one who had to be gone from home all day. I had to take Melody to her orthodontist appointment and we had to finish holiday shopping. I didn't buy any decoration that isn't "Made in America"! Later, I had my regular Tuesday night "session"/class ...actually, counseling.
Mike had asked me Monday if I'd be home to receive a package on Tuesday. When I finally dragged in at a quarter 'til 9, McKala said I had something on the chest of drawers in our bedroom. I found a plane ticket there and while I was rambling through my mind what that meant, Mike walked out of our bathroom. He'd been gone to Moore, Oklahoma for 5 weeks. I screamed like an Army wife would! I'd just told him last week that he'd been gone so long that I felt like I truly missed him and that we had a new place to start from. Call it what you will but it was the truth.
Here he sits beside me watching "American Pickers" as I recount what turned out to be our best party ever. Thursday morning everybody got up, even though Megan and Miranda had driven back from Oklahoma 18 hours arriving at midnight. Melody decorated with streamers and balloons, flowers and books; Michael pressure washed; McKala headed to work but had already taken on the clutter, floors, and baseboards with Macklynn and Madalynn; Miranda painted; Megan pressed almost 100 burgers (I bought beef every time I thought it was a good price, not knowing I'd stocked up well over 30 pounds) and I push mowed (which God knows I need the exercise from), while Mike took the kids intermittently for rides on the Harley he'd rented the day before.
He took me to Logan's for our 24th anniversary that was Monday! We got to witness for the first time TOGETHER as our waitress divulged the details of her life and listened intently as we told her the parts of our story that were similar to her and what God has done with them. He drove straight over to the dealership to rent himself a little piece of freedom and although I needed to be preparing for the party that night, I found myself on the back of that motorcycle.
It's completely awesome that he got to be home for the party since it all started years ago because the 4th of July is his favorite holiday. It'd been raining for days though and we weren't sure how it'd go, nor was anyone else. It got off to a slow start but within the hour, there was hardly anywhere else to put food or people. Kids were jumping into the pond. Our patriotic compilation was playing. "The Warrior Song" was on when I passed through the carport. I half heartedly apologized for the hard core nature of it, not realizing that we had a Marine among us ...who'd just been doing flips off the trampoline into the water :)There were pick-up games of basketball in the driveway and pick-up games of checkers on the front porch. The teens soon gathered around the water slide Michael put together before he grilled those dozens of burgers. Since there were upwards of 60 people, I asked Mike if he would pray with the "dry ones" in the carport so we could eat in shifts. It's still odd yet wonderful to hear him do that.
The brindle Pit Bull puppy Michael brought home Wednesday from the Vet's office and named Pippy Lou was a huge hit. I don't think she was put down for more than a few minutes. She even got to spend part of the evening hammocking with some of the kids. Our new piglet was a close second for attention.As the mounds of burgers, salads, treats, and fruit disappeared, the lighting of the bonfire began while children swam around the pond and others were swung on the swings. I was utterly surrounded by friends, not just any friends but the kind, new and old, who've shared with us in our times of need and our times of celebration, people who love God to their cores, people who've brought us food and clothes; mowed our grass; taught and lent their ears to us; opened their homes to and smiled upon us despite their own tiredness, loneliness, sickness, hardship, or busyness.
Thank God, we escaped injuries and arguments and storms. The display went off without a hitch after the kids played with sparklers, made s'mores, and settled down on blankets. It didn't start raining until the last 2 cars were about to leave. Michael offered to retrieve one to which she originally said "no", but laughingly passed her keys to him after he "insisted". And it's a good thing because he slid right down the yard to get to it. I had to pretreat his shirt down the front and the back! She snickered, "That could've been me!" ...love her humor, and the dedication of another: that although quite pregnant and adorably so, she had the sink full of suds to wash up even though almost everyone else was outside.
These are "my people". This is "my country" in more ways than one. All this has inspired lots of questions from the kids. I believe we'll be cracking a few of those books we decorated with before they make it back to the shelves. "Glory, glory, hallelujah" is taking new form! The fact that America was founded on all that is wholesome is being cemented into the hearts and minds of our family through times like this past Thursday night. Today, we were still wondering whose stuff is whose hanging on our line and we were eating leftover hamburgers ...and that's just fine.
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