What Can I Do?

Wow. What is happening to our world?
I am not sure how much more bad news my little heart can take.
On second thought, it seems to me like my little heart is becoming immune to the bad news.
Oh, really? Another shooting?
Yeah. I heard about the terrorist attack.
So, who's involved in today's sex scandal?
It seems like every day includes another tragedy, another heartbreak, or another rumor. And although the stories are sad, well, I am not shocked by them anymore.
It kind of feels like I'm the frog who's getting used to boiling water, ya know?

And yesterday, it kept on coming.
I logged onto Facebook and knew right away that something scandalous had happened with Matt Lauer. My news feed was full of comments and rants which told me just enough to know I didn't care to know anymore. Another "star" fallen from the sky.
My inbox contained an article from the American Culture & Faith Institute, which shared findings that Christians are not spreading the gospel, and the number of born again Christians has been declining in recent years. And I'm thinking, C'mon, Church! What's going on? (You may read the article here, if you wish.)
Another email told me about current trends which don't bode well for the moral future of our nation, and I found myself asking, When, Lord? When are we going to see a turn-around in this world? And I felt myself becoming simultaneously more saddened, and more apathetic. I couldn't help wondering, What can I do, anyway???
And then, as if right on cue, I saw a short video testimony of a man who credited the faithful prayers of his mother - and a merciful God - with saving his life, and his soul. He gave great detail about how his mother prayed through his rebellion, and he encouraged the audience, "Don't give up praying!"
I sat in my chair nodding my head, whispering praise to God, committing to being faithful in prayer for my boys. And His Spirit nudged mine.
Pray for your world, too, daughter. Pray for your world!

Getting to Know Glen Keane

I've written before about Adam Raccoon, and how much I love him. And today I am sharing the man behind the stories.
That is, yesterday I received an email with a link to an interview Glen Keane recently did with The Christian Worldview. I listened to it, and wanted to take the opportunity to share Adam with you again. The interview is a lengthy (50 minutes) but I enjoyed hearing from Glen and thought it was worth the time. PLUS, for those of you who have yet to get the Adam Raccoon books, there's a special offer available in the interview.
*read that: It's a good deal. You should take advantage of it!*

So, get comfy - or get your earbuds and listen while you get stuff done - and enjoy the interview!

Overheard at the Dinner Table

Argh!
I got so frustrated today.
No one was doing what they were supposed to be doing.
One was in an off-limits location, and when I asked, "Do you have permission to be here?" she said,
"No. Oops!" And when I told her about the other rule she was breaking, she was all, "Oh, yeah!"
I could totally tell she knew she wasn't supposed to be doing what she was doing, but there she was - doing it, anyway.
And then there was the person who started getting sassy with me. *hmph* I didn't say anything back, because I knew they would just get more sassy, and I would get more irritated. And then I would probably start saying things I shouldn't say.
And I would regret it.
So I just didn't say anything else.
*sigh*
It drives me nuts when people break the rules and act like it doesn't matter.
I mean, rules exist for a reason!

And, no. Although it sounds like a mother's woes, those words didn't come from me.
It was my son blowing off steam from work - because of patrons who don't read signs, or who read and ignore them. *ahem*
And, to be honest, I kind of enjoyed hearing his lamentation. Because I think now my son might understand a little better what it's like to be a mom. *wink*

Would You Change Things?

Click here to see the Dear Younger Me video.

Feeling a Little Inauthentic

Typically, I am a very real person.

As in, what you see is what you get.

That is, I spent waaaaaay too much time when my children were small pretending to be someone I am not. Trying to look like I had it all together. Never letting on that motherhood was a struggle for me, and that some days I felt like a complete failure.
In those days I did my best to hide the real me. Because I felt like nobody could love her. But then God gave me hope in the midst of the struggle, and I started sharing my story, and I found out I wasn't alone. And I discovered being real - being authentic - was the only way to really live.

But I am suddenly feeling like I have regressed.

You see, tonight my daughter is coming home to celebrate Thanksgiving with us.
And she's bringing her boyfriend with her.
And his mother.
And I?
Just dusted, vacuumed, put away things which have been sitting in the dining room since I can't remember when, replaced the tablecloth whose stains I hardly even notice anymore (because I see them countless times each day), washed some windows (OK, only the inside of them!), and cleaned a mirror. (Still need to address the bathroom.)
And, well, I just don't usually behave this way. Haha!

They're going to be here for a few days - and I certainly don't intend to put on a got-it-all-together act.
But I thought at least it would be nice for the house to look clean when they arrive.
*wink*

By the way, I am going to spend the rest of the week enjoying my family and my house guests. I'll catch up with you here again on Monday.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!

Give Thanks

Touched by an Angel

I got to see Angel again this week.
And this time she stayed awake during my entire visit. *smile*

We sang together, I told her about what I just finished studying in Ephesians, and we talked a little bit about spiritual warfare. Angel isn't verbal enough to tell me stories about her life, and about the warfare she waged as a mother of several children. But she was able to communicate that she did spend time praying for her babies. And the way she joins me in prayer with, "Yes, Lord." and "Mm-hmm" and "Amen" gives me a hint of the passion she must have expressed when she prayed.
It's beautiful to imagine Angel on her knees, crying out to God on behalf of her children.

When it seemed she needed a break from trying to converse, I got the Connect Four game her son had set out for us. Saint and I had spoken about "playing" this game before, and I understood that Angel no longer has the cognitive abilities to actually strategize and follow rules. So I just handed her chips and we took turns dropping them into the slots. Sometimes Angel needed help steadying and lifting her hand to the top of the board, though once she made it that far she was able to drop the chip into play. And she actually connected four before I did in all three of our contests! *wink*
But when that third game was over, Angel said her arm was getting sore - so we suspended play and she put her arm back under her blanket to rest.
And I wondered to myself how many things that hand/arm combination has done over the past 100 years.
*How many hugs has it given to scared or hurting children?
*How many sheets and towels and sweaters and trousers has it folded?
*How many times has it comforted a tired husband?
*How many beds has it made?
*How many dinners has it prepared?
*How many neighbors has it greeted?
*How many prayers has it lifted up to heaven?
And I thought, Yes, sweet Angel. Rest your arm.
Because when a body has been at work for over a hundred years, I guess it ought to be able to rest any time it wants to!

Seeing from the Other Side

Yesterday a friend asked me if I have thought about writing another book.
And the truth is, I have.
Actually, last summer when I had the night shift driving home from Colorado - and everyone else in the van was sleeping - I came up with the title, sub-title, and eleven chapters.
I haven't taken it any farther than a memo on my phone, though.

But due to recent events, and things I've almost said, I'm thinking maybe I ought to get writing.

The thing is, my kids are getting close to being grown up.
They're 21, 19, and 17 now.
The struggles I had with them when they were small don't weigh heavy on my heart and mind anymore. (We've moved on to other struggles!) And as God has been growing them up, He's also been maturing me - and helping me differentiate between things that matter, and things that don't.
In fact, it has come to the point where I almost told a young mother, "This, too, shall pass."
Another time I almost said to parents of a new-born, "You'll make it. Just nap when he naps."
*grimace*
Those are two of the statements which made me cringe during my kids' younger years - every time someone spewed said them to me.
But, but, now that I'm on the other side, I know they're true statements. Having gone through what those young parents are presently going through, I now know the hard times won't last - and the little-ness of their little treasures won't, either. And, like all the grown-women and grandma's who have gone before me, I am eager to encourage them with sage advice and words of wisdom. Which I am certain will alleviate their distress and help them enjoy the moment.
The good thing
The problem is
No, it's definitely a good thing.
The good thing is, before those words came out of my mouth I remembered how they sounded to me when I was an irritable mother in the midst of the struggle. Although now I trust the words were always spoken with good intent - and in accuracy from hind-sight - at the time they did little to nothing to encourage me. Rather, I fell deeper into my pit of mommy-guilt because I wasn't enjoying.every.moment. And I seemed always to feel just a little more of a failure each time someone implied (Unintentionally, I'm sure.) that they made it through whatever I was facing, so I ought to buck-up and face it, too.
I didn't need sage advice and words of wisdom when I was an irritable mother. I mean, maybe later they would have been good to hear. But what I really needed first was for somebody (preferably one of these "older" moms who had been there) to tell me that what I was going through really was hard. That it was OK for me to feel overwhelmed. I needed her to tell me she had cried, too, and sometimes she didn't want to be a mommy anymore, either. My heart was longing for her to validate me, and to assure me that I wasn't a failure. Oh, if she would put her arms around me and pray, and affirm that God was still crazy in love with me - even when I was a slobbery mess.
Yes, those kinds of words would have been so much more valuable to me than the advice to "enjoy them now" because "they're only young once" and "this, too, shall pass."
I mean, I'm seeing the younger years from the other side now, and I know those words are true. But when I was an irritable mother, those words didn't offer the grace I needed.

So that's why I'm thinking maybe some day I'll write,
"When I was an Irritable Mother: A Grandma's Guide to Giving Grace".
What do you think?

We're Better Together

Tuesday night last week there was a significant frost, and Wednesday morning it looked like ALL the leaves had fallen overnight.
So Friday, I recruited Matthew to come outside and help me gather a few tarp's-worth of leaves to dump in the pines. You know, because he had the day off of school and I thought he ought to do something constructive. And the terrible, horrible, no-fun process of raking leaves was underway.

When Saturday arrived it seemed everyone was somewhere else, doing something else, so I decided to just go out by myself and get some raking done.
And the raking part was fine.
I mean, I wasn't enjoying myself by any means. But I managed to get through it.
However, when it came time to drag the tarp full of leaves to the pines to dump, I realized the task simply was not meant to be for one person. That is, dragging it was easy. But pulling one end over the other and pushing the middle up while trying to pull the bottom out and repeatedly releasing stuck parts of the tarp which had gotten caught by low-hanging branches, all the while trying to avoid said branches so you don't get poked in the eye, and did I mention how heavy a tarp full of leaves is? Well, it was just too much for me. (OK. It wasn't too much in the sense that I wasn't able to finish the task. But it WAS too much for me to be willing to try it again. *ahem*)
So I decided to quit the terrible, horrible, no-fun task of raking leaves. (Which, by the way, was far more terrible than it had been with Matthew's help the previous day.)
Just as Brian was coming out to help.
And, although I really wanted to quit, I knew I could continue if I wasn't alone. So I picked the rake back up and my man and I got a whole lotta raking and leaf-dumping done.
In not a lotta time.
Oh, there are still plenty of leaves to rake, but I am confident we'll get it done.
Together.

Yes, together.
Because we're better together.
Not only when it comes to raking leaves, but also raising children, growing in Christ, facing obstacles, working through life-changes, enduring hardships, and even celebrating victories.
Too often, however, it seems like everyone else is somewhere else doing their own thing. So we put on our big-girl panties and we try to do it ourselves. And we usually end up overwhelmed and tired, and ready to quit. Who's with me on this???
So today I am offering you the lesson I learned last weekend while raking leaves.
Quit trying to do life on your own. God has surrounded you with people who can help in various ways. It's called the Body of Christ. So let's live like a body instead of as individual parts.
***********************************************************************************************
Even as I exhort you to receive help, so I implore you to watch out for others.
When you see a need, grab a rake and go offer support!

Who Are You?

Touched by an Angel

So I had my first "official" visit with Angel this week.
She was lying comfortably in her recliner, covered with a soft blanket when I arrived - listening to some good ol' gospel music. A cushioned bench sits right next to her recliner, so I sat down beside her and was ready to get to know her a bit.
But my sweet Angel was so warm and cozy, she just wanted to sleep. (Livin' for 100+ years makes a lady tired, ya know!) Thus, the majority of our time was spent with her eyes closed, and my eyes fixed upon her - wondering about the stories and wisdom and lessons she holds in her heart.

In her moments of wakefulness I tried to engage Angel in conversation. I asked her about the people in the pictures on her dresser and hanging on her walls - but she mostly didn't remember who they are. We looked at a small plaque "to Mother" which sat on her dresser, and I read aloud the poem printed on it. (We agreed it must have been a gift from one of her children.) We took note of the good-looking young men who were singing gospel on the TV. And she was able to tell me that she sang alto when she was in her church choir. Alto. Just like me!
But, like I said, most of the time Angel wasn't aware of me, because she slept.
That is, she wasn't very aware until it was time for me to leave and I asked if I could pray for her. As I held her had and prayed, something in her woke up and she was praying right along with me.
Mmhmmm, Yes, and Amen.

She may not have a mind which remembers everything or everyone anymore. She might have forgotten who gave her certain gifts. I'm quite certain she doesn't know who I am yet. But she knows her JESUS and she sure remembers how to talk to Him.
It was a moment that deeply touched my heart.

I'll Take It

So, last night we were sitting at the table just talking after dinner, and Josh shared a fear he has about deep water with sticks in it. As the conversation continued he laughed about his irrational thoughts that "something" could get him in said waters (I think he was a bit embarrassed to be making his confession.) and I felt compelled to share my own irrational fears, just to let him know he isn't alone.
Because I was so excited that he was still at the table with us! I wanted to keep it going. *wink*

Anyway, I told the guys about my long-standing phobia regarding our laundry room in the basement. Until recently, when I would turn off the light and go upstairs (This trek involves walking through the bathroom, a small hallway, around the corner, and up the steps.) I had the ridiculous worry that a bad guy was going to jump out of the shadows and attack me. I told them that when no one else was home I would run that distance - but when others were here, I tried to act calm about it. *ahem*
I also told them about the comfort it gave me when I knew one of them knew I was down there. Because if I did't come up in a reasonable time I felt confident someone would come to check on me. (If they hadn't heard my screams when the bad guy attacked.) But if they weren't home and they didn't know I was downstairs doing laundry, well? I feared they might not miss me until...
"Dinner time!" Matthew suggested.
Brian added, "Yeah. My clothes aren't clean, and I'm hungry. Where's Mom?"
We all were laughing, but I feigned heartbreak and said, "Awww, come on, guys!"
And Josh came to my rescue with these words: "It's OK. We love you, Mom."
I smiled and thought, Well, that was pretty close to having my 19-year-old son say, "I love you, Mom."

I'm still cherishing the moment. *sigh*

Adulting 101

So, last week I shared a story about one of my sons learning an adult lesson the hard slightly expensive way. And today I have another one.
That is, another adulting story.
About my other son!

Yesterday morning Matthew was having a hard time waking up. Until he remembered something which caused him to groan painfully and hit his pillow. I figured he had just remembered a homework assignment, or something like that. And I asked, "What's wrong?"
Matthew hit his pillow again and said, "I have stuff in the washing machine and now it isn't going to be ready when I need it!" Then he jumped out of bed to go put the laundry in the dryer. (Not sure if he forgot to put it in the dryer Sunday night, or if he planned on getting up earlier Monday morning to do it. Either way, he was feeling the crunch.)
And I?
Plodded back to my room to sleep for a few more minutes.

As I lay in bed, it occurred to me that Matthew's clothes would dry quicker if he just put in the items he needed to wear. I could very easily put the rest through later in the morning. But before I could drag myself out of bed to offer that solution, I had second thoughts.
I thought, What will my solution teach him, except that I'll come to the rescue when he doesn't plan adequately? What harm will come to him if he walks out the door in damp clothes? Or the dry clothes he wore yesterday? I'm really comfy in my bed. There is really no good reason to interfere with his consequences. So I rolled over and closed my eyes. *grin*
And when I walked into the kitchen as Matthew was heading out the door, I noticed two things.
1) He wasn't naked.
2) His clothes looked dry.

So I quickly concluded, Matthew is big enough to manage his own problems. #parentingwin

So Needy!

Touched By an Angel

Yes. I believe that is what's going to happen over the next... however long I am given this time.

I am going to be touched by an angel.

Angel is my newest friend. She is 100 years old and I have the wonderful opportunity to visit with her once a week now, as part of my volunteer role with Great Lakes Caring. At this moment I don't know very much about her, since I was just introduced to her yesterday. But this much I do know: She loves JESUS. She likes to sing. Annnnnd, she likes pink.
And that, right there, is all I need to know in order to know that we are going to get along swimmingly.
Angel lives with her son, whom I am going to call "Saint" (because he sure seems like one!), and I look forward to being an instrument of God's grace to both of them for the rest of Angel's life.
And if you'll meet me here on Friday's, I will share with you the joy I discover in serving, befriending, and being touched by an angel.

When Adulting Lessons Work

So, last night my son (Who shall remain nameless, lest he become upset with me for telling stories about him to the entire world.) made a trip to the bank at a rather late hour.
But it was before midnight.
And that matters.

You see, our sons are each required to pay a portion of our cellphone bill, and their payment is due on the first of the month. And because of a history of not paying on time, a few months ago Brian and I established a system for late fees. With the intent of helping our sons become more responsible with paying bills, in an effort to prepare them for the "real world".
So, last month the son who made the late trip to the bank last night "forgot" to pay on the first of the month. And the second. And the third.
And this momma decided it wasn't her job to nag continue reminding, so she stopped.
Until the 16th of the month when it occurred to her that said son still hadn't made his payment, so she asked when he was going to make it. And together they calculated that he owed $34. Sixteen of which was late fees. Bummer.

Thus, I found myself chuckling last night, and pleased by a lesson learned, when I overheard that son of mine realizing it was the first of the month and stating, "I'm going to the bank to get that money. Because last month I had to pay too much in late fees...grumble, grumble."
The truth is, I felt kind of bad for taking that extra money from him last month. But in the "real world" he's going to face hard deadlines, and billing entities won't listen to sob stories or forgetful excuses. So, I think the lesson he learned was actually a bargain.
Here's hoping it sticks with him!

The Need to Confess

When you think someone is upset with you, so you examine your actions to discern why such upset-ness may have occurred, and in your heart you know what you did - and the Holy Spirit convicts you of selfishness and wrong-doing, so you resolve to confess and apologize, but later you see the aforementioned upset person - only they don't seem upset AT ALL...

Does that mean you're off the hook for the need to confess and apologize???

Ummm. Yeah. I don't believe so.
That is, I don't believe the Holy Spirit convicts us unnecessarily. When HE speaks to a heart, a heart ought to listen. Even when the offended doesn't seem, uh, terribly offended. Because I think sometimes the act of confession is for our own cleansing more than it is for the other's consolation.
Thus, I shall be eating humble pie and making an apology momentarily.

Thank You, Father, for caring enough about the condition of my heart - and your standard of holiness - to convict me of and cleanse me from all unrighteousness.