A Person is a Person No Matter how Small

Many states are heading to their voting booths today to make decisions on a myriad of issues and to elect new governing members. Each year a state or two hits the news with some "controversial" piece of legislation. This year it appears to be Mississippi's turn with Proposition 26.

I hope that the proposition passes, though I am sure some a judge will quickly deem it unconstitutional. How it can be wrong to provide rights to an individual? Now a number of people will argue that a unique individual is not created the moment that an egg is fertilized, i.e.  at conception. They would like to argue, depending on which camp they sit in, that the person exists when there is a heart beat, or at the age of viability, or only after birth.

But since when did whether or not you were wanted determine whether or not you existed?

I have never had a co-worker run up to me and say "Guess what! I have an embryo!" or seen a Facebook post that says "Well, we have a mass of cells peculating and hopefully next month we will hear the fetus' heartbeat". No, people say they are going to have a baby just as soon as they see those two lines, and start immediately guessing if it is a boy or a girl. I have had friends who have undergone IVF, and they mourned each implanted embryo that did not take. Why? Because to them each embryo was a baby, a person who they had yet to meet but still loved. If you need any further prove that it is a matter of being wanted or unwanted, just look a the rational of late term abortions. How can the medical community do everything humanly possible to save a 21 week old baby, as in the case of Amillia Taylor, but still perform late term abortions?

I believe that every person does have rights as God's creation, and it should not matter what those of us who are a little taller and heavier think. Wanted or not, these little ones are still individuals. I am glad that there are people in Mississippi who are willing to take a stand for those who can't yet.


"Because a person is a person, no matter how small"
Horton the Elephant by Dr. Seuss

Do you know what today is?

Do you know what today is? No, it is not the day after Halloween or the Satanic New Year, Samhain. It is actually a day all of us who enjoy being able to read our Bibles in our own language, go to the church we want, sing hymns, and exc., should celebrate. It is the day that marks the start of church as we know it and take for granted. Today is Reformation Day.

Years and years ago, as in 1517, Martin Luther wrote a long letter to his bishop concerning issues in the Catholic church at the time. These 95 Theses were the beginning of something bigger, questioning of the Catholic church and the birth of the Protestant movement. Luther felt that forgiveness came through God alone not through a piece of paper signed by the Pope's emissary. Also salvation was through grace, not a result of amassing good works. It was a scholarly work but as such started people thinking and actually looking at the Scripture for themselves for the first time.

At the same time across Europe another mighty man of God was leading a holy revolt. William Tyndale was a English man, a tutor and a house chaplain, who felt that the people should have the Bible in their own language. This was a monumental undertaking and strictly forbidden.

 One of the more pungent scenes from a movie comes for a movie about William Tyndale. The movie opens with a English family standing outside with a church official asking one of the young boys if he could recite the Lord's Prayer. The child is shy but with gentle coaxing he says it perfectly. The mother than starts weeping, which I thought odd. The "kindly" church official then arrests the father and orders him to be hung! A lay person could not have or learn about a Bible themselves, and definitely not instruct their children. The movie was low budget but I was shocked by the sacrifice of others way before me.

In the end William Tyndale died for voicing opposition to King Henry XIII's divorce. He was eventually betrayed and martyred, though four years after his death the English Bible was published with King Henry XIII's blessing (Just in case you ever wondered, God can use anyone for His purpose!)

So, as you go about your day, listening to your Christian radio and reading your Bible, remember those who gave so much for the cause of Christ. Men and women who were not afraid to stand up to the establishment of the day and say and teach what was truth. We are part of a long line of light through history, may we not drop the torch in the final hour.

Jenna

I think Jenna is having an identity crisis. I honestly do not think she realizes she is a collie. I am not sure what breed she identifies with but collie is not it.

The description of as collie as per the American Kennel Club reads thus: The Collie is a devoted family dog, especially with children. Although they require daily walks, they can also be couch potatoes. Despite the Rough Collie’s immense coat, they only need to be brushed about once a week, although the need for brushing may increase in shedding season. Collies are also a very clean breed and are noted for not having a doggie odor.

Problem number one, Jenna does not like children. She will go out of her way to knock Noah down and then make sure she stays out of my reach. He is like a Weeble that she cannot help wobbling. Thankfully, Noah takes it in stride, he hates the barking Pomeranian, Jenna he tolerates.

Problem number two, have you seen Jenna's room and yard. She is not a "clean" dog, in fact she loves to find that something unsecured and spread it around the backyard. I have now figured out how to thwart her but for awhile I had bits of brightly colored plastic toys all over the yard. There is also the little issue of her not always making it outside to do her business.

Problem number three, have you smelled Jenna???? I am not sure if a "doggie" odor is suppose to be better or worse than "collie" odor, but I have a hard time imagining anything worse!

Perhaps, I should print this description and mount it inside her kennel. Or I could find "Lad, A Dog" on audio cassette for her listening pleasure. Hopefully, she will figure out she is a collie some time soon!

Guilty of Sleeping for Two

A friend recently asked what happened to my "Thought Spot", as she had not seen any posts recently. The reason she has not seen them, is they do not exist except in my little brain.  I told her that I have not posted in awhile because I usually wrote during the afternoon while Noah's napped and recently have been napping myself. So, I admit it, I have been Busted! I have been caught, I am guilty of napping for two.

I am thankfully not one of those pregnant ladies who has super weird food cravings or a total food aversion during my nine months of transformorgifying into a beached whale :) With Noah I gained my allotted weight and it even came off within 6 months after he was born. We will not talk about what happened after those six months, but let's just say the scale and I were not on speaking terms. However, I do get rather sleepy when I am pregnant, especially in the beginning. I feel like naps are essential (who does not) and have therefore been indulging. I am sleeping for two, you know. The problem is I have passed the stage where I feel the need to take a nap. I am, unfortunately, now guilty of using naps as an excuse to procrastinate. What makes it worse is my napping is making it hard for me to sleep at night. A vicious cycle all of my own lazy making.  I am not saying that naps are bad, but they perhaps were not the best use of my time.

So, here is to hopefully a new restart of actually getting things accomplished in a timely manner, a refocus of my priorities, and of course,  more blog entries!

Humbled by a World of Amazing Christians

I have a comfortable life. I freely admit it. I am truly blessed. I have a nice roof over my head, can buy whatever food I feel like eating, there are clothes already in the dressers and closets for this winter and I can stay home and raise my young son while my husband works his fairly secure job. ( I am beginning to think no job is truly secure in this day and age.) My biggest blessing is I can go to church when I want and where I want to. My neighbors, the cashier at Wal-mart, and the policeman down the street can all know my husband and I are Christians, and there is no fear connected to them knowing. I am a fearful person by [sin] nature, so if there were anything to fear, you know I would be on top of it!

So, when I read about our brothers and sisters in other countries I am humbled and amazed. I was reading yesterday and today about Youcef Nadarkhani, the Iranian pastor who is looking martyrdom in the face. I am struck by his answer to the courts request for him to repent and return to Islam.

When asked to repent, Nadarkhani stated: "Repent means to return. What should I return to? To the blasphemy that I had before my faith in Christ?"

I think part of me wants to believe that my fellow brothers and sisters around the world live a relatively comfortable life. While I know there is poverty and economic hardships, I want to believe that persecution and martyrdom are a thing of the archaic past. But a comfortable life is not what our Lord promises us, actually we are kind of promised the opposite. Oh, we can cover our eyes and ears, pretend suffering for the Cross is only figurative, but we would be lying to ourselves. Suffering is real. Pain, imprisonment, and martyrdom are really happening today around the world. It is time we start realizing our God created the WHOLE world, and be a voice for our brothers and sisters in prayer and whatever other means the Lord opens up for us.

 I only hope that when I am called to represent my Lord, that I can be as bold as my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. I am praying for you Youcef Nadarkhani.

Read more: http://www.foxnews.com/world/2011/09/28/iranian-pastor-faces-execution-for-refusing-to-recant-christian-faith/#ixzz1ZMpwNrLt

I am not who I was born to be...

So that if any one is in Christ, that one is a new creature; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new. 2Cor. 5:17

Recently a young man I know posted as his status on FB the line from the Lady Gaga song "I was born this way".  I think this is one of the saddest sentiments I have ever heard.  People embrace this statement as fact, as a logical reason for the way they act and live, as if our destiny was controlled by our genetics. I see instead an idea that is void of hope and denial of who we really are.

The whole idea that our genetics controls who we are is a dangerous road to travel. A road of pure biology dictating our lives lacks a soul. We are no better than animals. We are like dogs trained to behave a certain way, lovable and loyal as long as we are not mistreated. But we are not highly sophisticated animals, we are human beings created in God's image with a body, a spirit, and a soul. We are capable of change, of rising above circumstances without someone physically guiding us. How?  By allowing God to direct our paths, which He will do if we humble ourselves. Additionally, God has given us the ability to reason and be creative. My dog, Jenna, will not go into the dog house to get out of the rain, let alone build herself a house to protect herself from the elements. We can teach a monkey to play chess, but the monkey is unable to create the game chess. We are more than a bunch of  harmonious molecules.

If we hold onto the idea that we are born a certain way and therefore cannot change, it is no wonder that so many people are depressed! Why do we grab ahold of idea that the course our destiny is inevitable? Because the idea is very comfortable and justifies the sin we want to hold onto. Yes, sin. But in truth that sin has a death grip on us.  How many times have you heard, "I'm Irish so I have a terrible temper" or "I am an anxious person so I can't do..."? The Bible is full of people who changed. Peter loped off someone's ear (I think that qualifies as a terrible temper!) and Moses was so hesitant to receive God's calling that he had his older brother speak for him.Our genetics and circumstances do not have to dictate who we are, it is our choice if we allow them to control our destiny.  With God we can change who we are! I am not who I was born as because of God!

I believe that this is what the world needs to see. Not only does God love them but He has the power to transform them, to free them from who they are. Our destiny is not inevitable, our course can be changed and redeemed.

You can be new creation, behold the old you has passed and new you has come.

Mommy Time Craft

    Noah's afternoon nap is the time of the day that I relish. It is "mommy time". It is where I can sit down and do something that takes a little time and focus, such as write a blog. Well, I have not written in the blog for almost a week, and Noah has napped, so what did I do with my time?

  First, I have been brushing up on my Sparky verses!  Last weekend at the Awana training, our commander Kathy, asked me to be the Sparks director. After praying about it and talking to Anthony, I said yes. Needless to say some of my "mommy time" went in preparation for Awanas. I want this to be a wonderfully successful year for Sparks and previous experience tells me that things go alot more smoothly if you are well prepared.

    Secondly, I have been working on a craft project. Jillian told me about a simple toy you can make for your toddler. It involved placing a button on an end of a ribbon and making felt shapes for them to thread through. I loved the idea but wanted to go a step further. I wanted animals. So, I made six different animals with holes for the button "nose" to thread through. I placed a large black button on each end of my ribbon, so Noah could use either end. I made the faces out of scraps of felt. I glued the felt pieces together with craft glue and then used heatbond to apply a backing of felt to add more stability to the ears and tails. I think they turned out really cute and hope Noah likes them as well! And no that is not Mr. Sun, it is my lion, he looks better with his nose but the his glue was stil wet.

When at first you don't succeed, try again for the umpteenth time. Right?

Maybe I should get the hint. Or it could be that I am a little dense. Perhaps my plan is doomed from the beginning or has a fatal flaw. What, you might ask, is my nemesis, my troubling problem? It is my complete inability to make an online store work!

I have been trying for three years (at least) to find and maintain a online avenue for my handmade items. I tried Etsy first, way back when few people had ever heard about it. I sold a few items but traffic was slow and I found the fees annoying. So, I looked elsewhere. I then tried Artfire, a "new kid on the block" as far as online selling sites go. Artfire had a great look and had more extras than I knew what to do with, but I sure tried!  With starting the Artfire store I also added my brother Joe to my endeavor to break into the world of cyber consumerism. I figureda variety of items would mean more hits and more people looking at our items is always good. And while Artfire started off with a bang, over time the views got fewer and fewer, and the sales next to none. I am disheartened to say the least.

So, the pendulum has swung back to Etsy. Etsy has changed for the better since I last used their services. They modernized the site, with clean lines and more features for buyers and sellers. Listing an item is much easier than it was before. But probably the most important reason I switched back to Etsy is the fact I have heard people talking about items they bought on Etsy. People actually know what Etsy is. This time I am adding Micah on to boost the number of items in the "store", which is always fun.

The race is on now between Etsy and Artfire. I have both sites up and will end up keeping the one that does better in views and sales. I will then move all the stock to the "winning" cyber store. It did occur to me that they might both do nothing in which case, I am not sure what I will do... Perhaps, start my own site for incredibly stubborn business "losers" :)



If you want to see the competitors, they are:
http://www.woodenzebra.artfire.com/
http://www.thewoodenzebra.etsy.com/

The Berlin Wall

Yesterday, I saw that it was the 50th anniversary of the construction of the Berlin Wall.  The Berlin Wall has a special fascination for me, as it was part of the beginning of my interest in history. I never particularly liked history. History involved memorization of meaningless dates and events and had no room for the imagination. However, as the daughter of a soldier, history found me.

 My father was stationed in Germany when the Berlin Wall came down. I was 12 when the wall came down and was vaguely aware that something big had happened. I remember going to craft shows and seeing people buy the bits of graffiti covered concrete from the Wall. One of my more vivid memories of the time was of a refuge family that came to our church. They were from Romania, and they had two young children, a boy and a girl. Their car was strange, unlike anything I had seen driving on the autobahn, it honestly looked like it had been driven off of a movie set. I remember at a church picnic that the girl's mother had made a beautiful daisy chain for her (strange sometimes what you remember) and that the children were shy. I knew that we did not share the language but language was never really a barrier for children at play. (I was living in a foreign country, and did not speak German, so playing was a universal language.) It was not till much later that I began to realize what this family had going through. But all this happened when I was an oblivious 12 year old.

It was not until I was a senior that I realized what I had experienced. I was doing research for a paper on World War II, when I came across a picture of Hitler addressing a group of soldiers in a large stone amphitheater. I looked at the picture closely and realized I had been there! I had sat about 20 feet from where Hitler was in the picture and watched fireworks on the Fourth of July just 5 years earlier. It was at that moment that I realized how really, real history was and with that realness came an intense fascination. I had met and experienced a part of history. From that moment on I had a much deeper appreciation for what happened in the past.

So, every time I hear about the Berlin Wall, I think of that small Romanian family with their odd car and a beautiful daisy chain.

Through the Power of Your Love

I love when the words from a song I sang in church get stuck in my head. All to often I have some little ditty from one of Noah's toys echoing through my head. A calypso version of  "Do You Know the Muffin Man" is hard to dislodge after hearing it for the tenth time in a row.

But today I am blessed to have a song we sang in church to be reverberating through my mind and soul. Through the power of Your love. What a powerful statement! So much of who we are in Christ, the fact we can even have a relationship with Him is through His love! When I stop to think of all the Lord has done for me, what He brought to me and change me to be, I am amazed. God's love is powerful, it will change and transform.

When we think about love we often think of the love that soothes and makes us feel warm and fuzzy. While that is comforting and there are times in our lives we need that from the Lord, His love is also powerful. He is molding us and making us, much like a sculpture or painter. I am sure if I was a block of marble, the chisel would not be my idea of love, and yet it is with this tool that the master in love makes his masterpiece. God can see the treasure hiding in the hunk of marble, and lovingly chips away the excess to reveal beauty within.  He loves me enough to have plans for me, to change me, to use me!

So, here is a link to the song so you can have something uplifting stuck in your head too!


http://youtu.be/pQg6sk5B3qY

A small rant...

Today as I was checking out in a small shop, I made small talk with the clerk who is a friend of a friend, about trying to beat this incredible heat. The he totally agreed about this horrid heat. He then suggested one way to beat the heat was to go to the library, like he did, you know back in the 80's. It was one of those "there, there honey" comments like I had no idea what life was like before an Internet. What made it worse is I doubt the guy had five years on me.  I wanted to say "Hello, see those white hairs on my head, those aren't highlights, thems the real deal buddy" but I didn't. (I dislike the color gray, so I call them white hairs, it sounds more aesthetic.) And yes, I did gray a little early (okay, really early in my book) but nursing school will do that to you.

The whole incident starting me thinking, I was perplexed by my reaction to it. I should have  been flattered that he did not think I was old enough to have appreciated the 80's. Maybe it was also the old nurse I knew who bemoaned that fact that I was losing my skills staying home with Noah. I guess he was just one more person in a long line of people who have treated me like I lost every ounce of intelligence I ever had once I became a stay-at -home mom. (Please, no comments on how little I started with :) )

I have noticed this trend with other stay-at-home moms I know. It seems that the world thinks we must be unable to do any type of meaningful work, so therefore we decided to stay home. Nothing can be further from the truth. We are women who are called by God to raise and serve our families for His glory. We were called to and choose to stay with our little ones, not as a last resort but as a first choice. So, to each of my fellow moms, I hope that you will look at how God sees you and not as the world does. For we are precious, for our worth is not measured by our non-existent 401K's, but in our service to God, our families, and others. Our "401K" is just on the other side of heaven.

You and I are not alone

Recently I have really struggled with troubling thoughts as I am falling asleep. I have heard people call such disturbances "thought bombs", but as much havoc as these thoughts were having on my sleep, they were more like nuclear blasts! These thoughts would strike just as I was falling asleep, and usually involved someone I loved or myself being maimed, kidnapped, chased by a burglar, or even killed. Most of the time the situations were ludicrous, but sometimes they were way to close to reality. The worse part was as I tried to force my groggy self to not to continue a particular thought, my mind would rewind it, and then replay the sequence only the situation would be worse then before.

I really felt like I was being spiritually attacked, and I continued to struggle despite praying for these thoughts to go away. It helped if I woke Anthony and he prayed for me, but after a time you really hate to wake someone because you can't stop thinking they died from strychnine poisoning. Not to mention people start worrying if you keep "doing them in" in your dreams.

Unfortunately, I started listening to the small voice inside my head that these dreams or thoughts were my fault. There was something wrong with me, or I had done something wrong. So, not only could I not sleep well, but now my waking hours were plagued with thoughts of what I had done wrong to cause the attacks. Was I not studying in the Word enough (I don't know about you but I feel I could always do more)? Was I not praying or serving enough? Or worse was something physically wrong with me, was I going off the proverbial deep end? I felt shame for something I could not control and yet I thought I was responsible for. Quite honestly, I was overwhelmed.

Not quite sure what else to do, I finally admitted to someone my struggle with these thoughts. This dear, wise friend (who also happens to be my mother) listened and then told me I was not alone. She had know many women to struggle with these types of attacks, especially after allot of stress. Looking over the last two years of my life, I have had more than a little stress, most of it wonderful but stress none the less. We then talked about using praise songs and Scripture to combat these thoughts. However, I knew at that moment I had won, because the guilt and shame were gone.

 One of the biggest lies we can grab a hold of is that we are alone.  Satan loves to make us feel that we are alone in our struggles or shame us into seclusion. In our busy lives we rarely stop to develop the relationships with people to the point that we can be honest and open about our struggles. So, we run around believing and holding onto the lie that we are the only one to think or feel this way. The first chapter of Ecclesiastes describes how there is nothing new under the sun and what we see today occurred before. The same is true with the attacks Satan uses against believers. While it might be dressed a little differently, there is nothing new, it has happen to someone before. There is incredible release and relief in knowing you are not alone in a struggle.

So, dear sister or brother, remember you are not alone and let go of the lie.

Guilty of Eating Dirt in the First Degree

Yesterday we received a brief rain shower which made the world feel and smell wonderful. After who knows how many days without rain, I loved how the scent of rain lingered on the ever present breeze. Once I was done with the dinner dishes I decided to do some much needed grooming of my flowerbeds and further enjoy the rain washed world. Noah was antsy, so I took him out to play in the front yard with his slide. We were having a fun time, me snipping dead flowers, Noah toddling in the grass, babbling about a bug or whatever else had his attention.

At one point he came over by me and held up the most infinitesimal speck of dirt about six inches from his mouth. When he saw me look at him he said in his soft little voice, "N-n-n-o, n-n-n-o." I smiled and told him that was right, it was no-no to eat the dirt and what a good little boy he was. I then proceeded to mentally pat myself on the back that my  almost 1 year old was being so mindful and obedient. I had not even finished my mental victory lap, when I watched in horror as my little "angel" grabbed the largest fistful of dirt he could managed and popped it right in his mouth, watching me the whole time. We scurried inside and I washed out his little mouth, as he tried to spit out the dirt.  By the way, washing dirt out of a spitting toddler's mouth is not easy.

I think the part that gets me is he had just told me it was no-no, and I know he understands what that means. Stairs and electrical outlets are no-no too. But then I thought about how many times I know that something is wrong, I will even tell others not to do something, and yet I still turn around and do it. I wonder how many times I have popped a "fistful of dirt in my mouth".

So while the Yeatts family court found Noah guilty of knowingly and with forethought consuming dirt, charges were dropped, and he was allowed out for good behavior. Of course, giving hugs and kisses to the prosecutor sure did not hurt things.

Getting Things Done...

Tuesday of last week my mom told me about the existence of a great new book. I love to read and it has been awhile since I have had a great book, the kind you do not want to put down. On Wednesday I had the new book in my eager hands  ( Anthony loves to spoil me!) and I was struck by the ravenous desire to read the book all in one night. Reading it all in one night was not practical, espcially as I did not receive it till 6pm. However, I could easily manage a day and half. The last time I received a new book and read it in 36 hours, I promised myself that next time I would do better. While I love visually consuming a book in record speed, it is such a let down when the book is done. I am also sure I missed small intricacy in the story reading it so fast, but it is no fun rereading a book right after you read it.

In order to thwart my gobbling up a book this time, I decided to use reading a chapter as a reward for getting a task done. I looked around for a long task and realized I had a large quilt in pieces on my sideboard. I had maybe a third of the squares sewn together. So, I tackled the quilt, sewing and ironing a section and then reading a chapter of the book. I managed to strech the book out to three days. (Anthony was threatening to take me to the doctor because something was obviously wrong with me!) I also managed to finish the quilt front, along with my regular household stuff.

Moral of the story: It is amazing what you can accomplish when it is fun, or you have something to look forward too!

Dress Code

When I see the words "dress code" I immediately think of working in the hospital. We had a dress code that required all women to wear nylon stockings with all skirts and dresses. I hated this rule. Not only are nylons impractical in a hospital, I was forever getting runs in them, but are also pure torture in the summer months. But today I am taking a little literary twist on the word code. A code can be an encrypted message. I think that what we wear sends a message, a dress code if you will.

The idea that what we wear conveys a message is not a foreign one. We all know if you go for an interview, you wear a skirt or a suit. The message you want to convey is you are a professional. If someone comes in wearing a coat, you presume it is cold outside. Women dress provocatively in order to attract men, though you honestly do not want the men you catch that way. Our clothes even tell people what kind of day we are having. We have all had sweatpants and baseball cap days, or the days when we actually feel pretty as we wear our favorite outfit. Whether you like it or not, what we wear says something about ourselves to others.

But does God really care what I wear? I think He does. Clothing is mentioned throughout the Bible, and I believe there is a reason. I do not think it was fluff or a casual observation. I think what we wear says a lot about who we are, and God definitely cares who we are! The words clothes and clothing appear 66 times in just the first five books of the Bible, obviously God notices.  If you remember God  made the first set of clothing as Adam and Eve left the Garden. In Deuteronomy when God gave instructions for a captive woman to become part of the tribe of Israel, one of the things she had to do was give up the clothes of her captivity. Her clothing identified her as belonging to another people. Clothes designate mourning (King David), special favor (Mordecai), industry and wealth (Proverbs 31), service (priest in the temple), and many other things. So, what we wear conveys a message to others and as Christ's ambassadors that message is vital. The question is what does our clothing today say? More importantly, what does the clothes we wear to church say?

 In 1Tim 2:9 Paul writes " In the same way also, I desire that women adorn themselves in decent clothing, in modesty and sensibleness...". I never looked back to see what Paul was referring back to when he said "In the same way also". If you look earlier in the chapter you see the attitude of worship Paul hoped to see in others. The way we dress communicates our attitude of and toward worship. Now that is a sobering thought, especially as the Christian life is to be lived throughout the week, not just on Sunday.

But back to the idea of what we wear to church. In time past, everyone had a set of clothes that were their Sunday best, but not anymore. In embracing freedom (see previous post), we have moved away from having a certain set or type of clothes we wear on Sunday. Sunday is a day of rest, and we take it quite literally. I have had friends in the past tell me, "I have to dress up all during the week for work, Saturday and Sunday are my only days to relax".  We would never dream of going to work out of dress code and using that "logical" statement with our earthly bosses, but we have no problem coming to the Lord's house that way. Does what we wear reflect awe and respect, do we look like the princess' we are or are we princess' in hiding? When people see us at church, does our clothing reflect that we belong to the King. Or does our clothing call people to look at our "beautiful person" or flaunt the money we have. Wealth is another message that our clothing can verbalize and one I think we should seriously consider in the light of the global body of Christ, but that is another whole post.

I have found this particular post really made me think. What is the message I send others each day? Do I reflect that I belong to the King? What is my dress code?

Mega-klutz

mega-klutz (meg' u- kluts): noun. a clumsy or awkward person who has an inordinate number of events when compared to other clumsy individuals. SYN. Carey

I am sure that definition is in a dictionary somewhere. As I dropped my keys for the fourth time today, I began to wish I was a more coordinated individual. I have never been coordinated. In fact I am the only person I know off who as a fourth grader struck out not once but twice at kickball. A few years ago, my boss actually thought about putting "not falling down the stairs" as a safety goal for me on an annual evaluation. Sad thing is we both agreed I probably would not be able to meet it.

I rarely wish I was someone else. Today I did wish I was one of those women who is so coordinated that she walks in stilettos as if they were sneakers. I am sure such a woman never drop her keys. But if she did, I know that she would not proceed by dumping the contents of her purse out on the pavement trying to pick her keys up. Nor would she forget about the diet coke she placed on the hood of the car while she got everything into the car, and then drive off. Diet cokes do not do well riding on the hood of the car, just in case you wanted to know. However, such a woman would probably not have a giggly little boy who was very amused by his mommy's antics. Quite honestly, I would rather have little boy giggles over being able to hang onto my keys or remember where in the world I placed my diet coke.

Contentment comes in all shapes and sizes, and in so many different areas of our lives. Contentment has never been easy for me. I need to continually remind myself to embrace who I am in Christ, and stop wishing I was a different kind of woman or mom. As I allow Christ to mold me and make me, I should trust that He knows what is the best form for me to serve Him. If I have allowed Jesus to make me into His treasured possession, I should not wish to be anything else.

But one things is for sure, I am not a china teacup!

Free but Loved

       It is tough being a kid. You are learning about and exploring the world around you. Things like what goes up must come down, mud and carpeting do not mix well, and grown ups do not always mean what they say. Take the word free for instance. When a parent says that there is a free weekend, a little boy has dreams of spending endless hours living the life depicted in Calvin and Hobbes. What a parent really means is nothing is planned so what a great weekend to clean the garage or wash all the windows. A parent might say a child is free to go out and play, but does not mean that he is free to jump of off the shed roof  holding onto a kite to see if he can fly. A child may be free to speak, but not to tell his grandmother that the meatloaf is gross. Even teenagers learn that a free period at school does not mean they are free to have rolling chair races down the hallway, but they are free to do their homework in silence. A child quickly understands that there are boundaries to the word free. While a child might not always grasp the reason for the boundary, respect for it is quickly learned.

      Surprisingly, we as adults often have never very fully outgrown our childhood understanding of the word free. Oh, we understand one is not free to eat all a whole package of cookies without gaining a few pounds. We just now morph what we are free to do. The law of consequences only applies to certain sins or issues. We can watch what we want, go where we want, and do what we want with our bodies because we are free. We go even further in deluding ourselves, by blaming other people or, even worse, God for the resulting mess.  Our own childhood experiences tell us that our delusion is not logical. Just because we want to be free to do whatever we want does not mean we are, no matter what anyone says.
    
     Like it or not, being free in Christ is not license to do something that would displease God. I once heard in a sermon when I was small "Imagine that God was sitting there next to you. Would you still be doing...?" and you fill in the blank with a certain activity or thought.  Now you might join the resounding cry of "legalism" that is echoing through the church concerning the idea of God given boundaries or standards. Some how the idea of there actually being standards in the Bible has become a bad thing.

    Remember telling your child not to talk back to an adult or tell grandma that the meatloaf is gross? People might argue that speaking his mind is not necessarily bad. What if he had a good point? What if it was true? After all, the child was only exercising his freedom of speech. We all know that talking back and being disrespectful are bad traits for a child to have. Without loving correction the child will grow up without respect for authority or himself. He will think it is okay to do something that hurts others, all in the name of being free. So, if we as adults have standards for our children, does it not stand to reason that God would have standards for His children as well.

      Standards are the loving way that God guides us from things that would harm us. Whether we want to realize it or not. We are free but thankfully we are loved as well.

Another Attack of Mommy Brain

     Today I lost my cell phone. I mean really lost it, as in "the battery was dead so I could not call it" lost. Noah loves to play with my phone with its crazy blingy case. No one would blame him a bit. However, I do not want to find out what the charge is for sending a text to Japan, so I have a habit of hiding it. The hiding place has to be up high, as Noah has a memory like an elephant. As soon as I am not looking, he goes and gets the phone. I really wished he could talk today.  I searched every where for the phone and in the process picked up most of my house. A clean house was an unexpected perk from losing a phone. I even did two loads of laundry, hoping I would trick the phone out of hiding when I was not looking. It did not work.

       I never realized how dependent I am on a little piece of technology. I send texts out to my family and friends all morning long. I find texting is a great way to send snippets about my day or ask quick questions without interrupting some else's busy day. The dependency runs deep!  Not to mention I can only remember about four phone numbers in my contact list of over 50. Perhaps, I should have a backup.
     
     Thankfully, my little melodrama has a happy ending. After cleaning the house, two loads of laundry, and sorting baby clothes (another attempt to trick my phone out of hiding), my phone allowed itself to be found. I say allowed because I am sure I had already looked on top of my sewing machine. I would blame Noah for placing it there, but he is too short. I guess I will have to mark this as yet another example of mommy brain. Sigh...

What Hard Times Show...

     I remember hearing at some point in my childhood, "When the going gets tough, the tough get going." I imagine my father probably said it to encourage me to finish that last street on the paper route some early winter morning, as we shivered together. I think there is truth in that statement. Tough times have a way of showing who we really are.

     My very sad backyard has provoked this deep introspection. When Anthony and I bought our house almost two years ago, one of the things we loved was the landscaping in the backyard. The previous owners had planted a variety of shrubs and trees, including a tall aspen, all along the wood fence. It was lush and green, a birds' paradise with plenty of places for nesting and raising a little bird family. We thought up keep of the yard would be fairly easy as an in-ground sprinkler system was already in place. Our first mistake was to think that owning a sprinkler system would be easy. But that is a story for another time.  

    In case you have not noticed, we are going through a drought here in sunny Oklahoma. A drought that actually started last fall. I did not think much of having a dry winter, until I started to notice the bushes in the backyard, especially the tall aspen. The aspen was more of a brittle brown then a lush green. I was perplexed by the BDR, bush death rate, in my backyard before it was even hot. The BDR was especially confusing as the bushes in the front yard and the pecan in the middle of the backyard were fine. I even confess to doing a little research on the web, trying to find something that would kill an aspen and a holly bush but spare a pecan. There is no such disease.

   One day I finally realized what had killed my backyard. Hard times had killed my aspen and it's leafy neighbors. Our sprinkler system, which runs along the edge of the yard, was winterized in October and until the following March the aspen had to depend on it's own shallow roots for water. The aspen never had to grow deep roots. Even in the hot summer months, water was easily plentiful because of the sprinkler head a yard from it's trunk. Any other year it would have been fine but without rain the mighty aspen dried up into kindling. On the other hand, the pecan is in the middle of the yard and appears to have been planted before the watering system was installed. Without easy access to water, the pecan had to grow long, deep roots to survive the treacherous summers.
  
    People are often like my backyard. At first sight, everything looks and feels perfect. It is not until circumstances come our way to do we see what we or others are made of.  Do our roots run deep from daily study of the Word or are our roots superficial, living on the water we get each Sunday? Do hard times cause us to shrivel up and die inside or are we able to draw from our roots and keep right on going? The same hard time that might kill one thing, will make another grow stronger. It is all a matter of roots.
  
     The tough keep going, only because of what they do before the going gets tough.

My Collie is Vindictive

My dog, Jenna, is a beautiful tri-color collie. She is petite and extremely affectionate. I love her, I honestly do. But Jenna has a dark side. She can be very vindictive, and she plays mean.

Jenna's extreme affection means she cannot be in the same room as Noah. She loves Noah, and would smother him in a lavish bath of doggy kisses and smelly collie fur. Noah is not so sure about that idea. So every day, Jenna stays outside until Noah goes down for his afternoon nap. Yesterday we were all doing our little routine, except for some reason I needed Jenna to spend the last half of her inside time in the air conditioned laundry room with access to the two car garage. Maybe I had to wash the kitchen floor for the tenth time... (Just as an FYI: White tile floors and babies who are learning to eat do not mix well!)

After about 45 minutes I let her out, but Jenna refused to make eye contact and was puffing her cheeks like a puff engine. I believe that is her equivalent of not speaking to me. I remember noticing some slight dampness in the corner on the bathroom floor and thinking, "Gross, Jenna drank from the toilet again". The dampness did not even really register as Noah was crying and I was working on dinner, until later. This morning there was no mistaking what the "dampness" the day before had been. Honestly, I am not even totally sure how she managed her vengeance. The spot is a little awkward for a dog, but this is not the first time she has gone to great lengths to express her displeasure. I refer to the time she climbed up four feet to poop on some old blankets in the garage.

As I steam clean my bathroom floor, I contemplate all the ways I can get back at my vindictive collie. Only unlike her, I never go through with any of my diabolical ideas. I will win in the end. I am the one that buys the doggy treats, so top that Jenna.

Randomness does have a down side...

I had to get Noah and myself up and out of the house by 8:30 this morning. While this is a hard enough feat, I realized this at 7:15 when I woke up to the sound of Anthony rummaging in his closet. I had a moment of absolute panic,which is never a fun way to wake up, wondering if today was the day he need his suit. After reassuring myself that it was tomorrow he needed his suit, I realized that my randomness and disorganization had struck again.

Last time Anthony needed his suit (which is dry clean only), he told me the day before the event. I thankfully had it clean and hanging in the closet, but asked if next time he would give me plenty of notice. So, last week Anthony asked me to have his suit cleaned for this Tuesday, and I reviled in the amount of warning I received.  Obviously, I need more than a heads up, I need a secretary! Seeing as secretaries do not work for room and board, I guess I will have to settle for actually using my dayplanner. I am, however, very thankful for cleaners who have same day service, flat rate priority boxes at the post office, 24 hour Walmarts, free two day shipping from Amazon, and exc....

Passive Voice

My nemesis in the English language is passive voice. Or is it....Passive voice is my nemesis in the English language. Sigh...I may never know. My luck, both sentences are passive.

I am sure to someone who majored in English or a related field, determining passive and active voice comes naturally. Quite honestly, in high school, I would have rather dissected an extra frog than have to determine which sentences in a paragraph were active vs. passive. Of course, the torture never ended with just being able to pick the sentences out. I would then have to correct the passive sentences to active ones. The paragraphs were never as clear cut as the examples in the textbook. So, despite ample opportunity throughout high school and college, the ability to confidently differentiate between these two voices still escapes me.

As I considered my nemesis in the English language, I realized that passive voice is my nemesis in a more vital area of my life. I am called, as are my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, to be "salt and light" to the world around me. Yet I find myself existing in this world, much like salt sitting in a glass salt shaker. I see things going on around me, but find it easier to stay put and keep my mouth shut.  I think someone else will speak up and say what needs to be said. We stand on the sidelines watching issues literally eat away at our churches and our cultures today.  Issues of divorce, immodesty, and the destruction of Christian values in the name of freedom have corroded the heart of the church. In fact it has gone so far that now we find ourselves considering such issues as abortion, adultery, pornography, and homosexuality in our bodies and wonder how we got here.

A passive voice is all it takes.

What does an active voice look like? Unfortunately, it is not what I see when I look in the mirror. I hope in the future, I can say differently. I see a few active voices in the church today.  But I often see them squelched in a clamour for love and unquestioning acceptance. Perhaps, in time, we will again see the effect of God's salt in our society. But first, the change has to start in our churches and there, my friends, is the rub.

Because quite honestly, to be passive is rather easy.

A Random Thing to Do

I have been thinking about starting a blog for some time now.

 I would be in the middle of doing something and I would have this "deep" thought or sudden inspiration and no where to place it. And I would think, "you should  have a blog." I would then squash the thought for a number of reasons:
1) A blog involves setting up a website and after my struggles with etsy and artfire, this was a compelling argument.
2) Writing has never been my forte. If you can express it in bulleted fragments and love dangling participles, I am your girl. I also have a very bad habit of writing the way I talk.  But to actually form my thoughts into sentences and paragraphs, well it will be a struggle to say the least.
3) Who would want to read my random thoughts? They are random and given my grammatical struggles mentioned above, could be a little embarrassing. But blogger does have spell check (I think every website should have spellcheck, and yes, facebook I am thinking about you), and I am going to wait to tell that my blog exists.
4) I am afraid that blogs can be a little "me" focused. It would be easy to just talk about my amazing life :) but in the end being a Christian is not about me. However, the Bible encourages our speech to be a "word fitly spoken" and our words "to be seasoned with grace". My hope is what I write here will be fitly spoken, seasoned with grace, and encourage others in their walks with the Lord.

I have had other excuses but those four are the main ones. In the end I decided to lay aside my fears, try to develop something I am not particularly good at, and share some thoughts for others to see.