Rhyme Time

Asher has been going through a rhyming phase.  He asks questions like “Does ‘fish’ rhyme with ‘mish’?”  Well, last night we were able to eat dinner on our deck because it wasn’t 112 degrees outside.  All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small projectile fly off the deck.  I was curious as to what it was until Asher cheerfully said, “Later, ‘tater!”  We had potato salad for dinner last night.  Glad that he can rhyme; not so glad that he’s become a picky eater!

 

Where Nobody Knows Your Name?

Just the other day, as my husband was playing outside with our kids, he met a “new” neighbor and his little boy.  I say “new” because he has actually lived in our neighborhood for about eighteen months.  In the course of conversation, my husband mentioned that he is the principal of a church-based Christian school.   The man seemed to perk up and replied that he and his family had been going to a church in the area for about the past year.  He could describe the location, which my husband was immediately familiar with, but he was at a loss as to the church’s name.

When my husband told me about this later, my immediate thought was if our neighbor doesn’t know the name of the church that he’s been attending for over a year, what are the chances that anybody at the church knows his name?

Somewhere along the way, church-goers in America have place a premium on anonymity.  When you have the Joel Osteens with mega-congregations, being a “no name” is a matter of course and, quite possibly, a matter of preference.  Months back, I caught a snippet of the reality show Jon and Kate Plus 8.  It was from a previous season and showed the Gosselin family going to church.  In the voice-over narration, Kate Gosselin explained that they had chosen a church about an hour away from their home for two reasons.  First, the children’s ministry could accommodate all their kids, and, second, Kate said, “They leave us alone.”  I understand that part of her meaning was that people didn’t ogle them, snap pictures, or ask for autographs.  But is church really the place to be left alone?

Church should be a place where you are known–and not left alone.  Certainly, people should know your actual name, but they should also know your other name.  You know, maybe you’re experiencing a season of spiritual prosperity.  Your name might be something like Joy or Hope.  Or maybe you’re struggling.  I so identify with this list from I Thessalonians 5:13: “And we urge you, brothers, admonish the Unruly, encourage the Fainthearted, help the Weak, be patient with them all.”  When you are truly known, you can receive admonishment, encouragement, and help.  And this isn’t just a one-way street.  David Powlison in his book Speaking Truth in Love says this, “Grace and truth are ministered in the spontaneous give-and-take of talking, doing and relating with one another.”  That’s a pretty good formula for community life in a church.

So the next time you feel like being anonymous, take a deep breath and say, “Hello, my name is. . . .”

 

Asher Said . . .

Yesterday, my husband and I were standing in line at a department store, waiting to buy a shirt.  There was an elderly gentleman directly in front of us who was making a purchase.  The cashier scanned his item and then held it up to fold and put in a bag.  The item was unexpected–a pair of silky, black pajamas.  The old gentleman in front of us didn’t exactly look like a silky, black pajamas kind of guy.  My four-year-old son Asher chimed in and said what we were all thinking:  “Awkward. . . .” And Chris and I did what all parents do in those situations, we pretended we didn’t hear a thing!

That kid . . .

 

Summoned

Yesterday, I was watching a YouTube clip of CJ Mahaney in which he was relating his salvation testimony.  In it, he said that when God drew him, it was more than just an invitation, more, even, than a calling.  He described it as being “summoned” by God to be born again.

I think of the story of Mephibosheth in the Old Testament.  King David remembers the promise that he had made to Jonathan, a promise to show mercy to Jonathan’s family.  David seeks out the only descendant left who is Mephibosheth, a crippled, deformed man who is bereft of property and provisions.  David summons him to court, provides for him, and invites him to eat at the king’s table.

This beautiful picture from scripture has so many parallels for those who have been born again.  One of the most poignant is that God summons us to his royal court, and, as in this story of David, his summons is to disabled, helpless people; it is an irresistible invitation to receive God’s extravagant mercy and grace.

Back around Easter, I worked on a poem that alludes to this idea:

Easter Sonnet

My wounds are stitched with a most sacred thread,

Invisible on this temporal skin;

Yet true as the cure for my soul’s sore sin

Is the string of love that gleams crimson red.

Once reviled, an orphan beggared and scorned,

Unpitied and pitiless both in turn,

I was chained to cravings–my one concern–

Grasping for glory though fallen, forlorn.

Then summoned by name to the royal court,

I knelt, ashamed, in that undefiled place

For even my best robes were foul and base.

The King raised me, gave His arm for support;

Then He unleashed His kindness like a flood

And bound my wounds with the thread of His blood.

 

Summer Days

Today was my first “real” day of summer with my two kids.  For about the last two weeks, I was visiting my brother, sister-in-law, and my nephews and niece in Ohio.  That doesn’t count towards summer because I was busy having fun and having my children entertained in the bargain!  So, it was back-to-reality today. . . .

I don’t know about you, but I find great comfort in the mundane routine of life.  Summer, however, can sort of lull me out of that routine.  I find that it’s easy to, you know, stay in my pajamas until noon while eating “Lucky Charms” and watching “Gidget” re-runs on TV . . . can’t really do that with two little kids.  Well, I COULD, but, all of a sudden, I’d turn around and it’d be like Lord of the Flies in my living room! So, I pretty much planned out every moment of my kids’ day.  Tell me, is it normal to visit the library twice in one day?

In my quest for structure and order, though, I don’t want to miss out on the blessing of simply spending time with my children, especially with my six-year-old daughter Iris who is normally in school.  I really love having her around!  Iris is a sweet, helpful girl.  She actually came to me and asked, “Can I clean something for you?”  Ahhh, music to her neurotic mother’s ears!  But, I want to make sure that I just relax and enjoy my time with her.  I think I’ll have to pencil in a few “pajama days”.

 

Quick, Family-Friendly Recipe

I thought I would include a recipe that I recently tried.  This is actually from a heart-healthy cookbook, and it can be a meatless meal (can anyone say budget?).  I think it’s great, too, for leftovers or freezing.

Italian Macaroni and Cheese

(To make this dish more heart-healthy, replace the mozzarella with reduced fat mozzarella and the pepperoni with turkey pepperoni.  You can even use low-fat spaghetti sauce.)

12 ounces large shell pasta

2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese

1 jar garden vegetable spaghetti sauce (26 ounces)

1 small can sliced black olives, drained (optional)

4 ounces of pepperoni (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Lightly coat a 13″x9″ baking dish with nonstick spray.  Cook the pasta according to package directions, but make sure it’s al dente.  Drain.  In a large bowl, combine the macaroni, cheese, spaghetti sauce, olives, and pepperoni.  Stir lightly to mix.  Transfer to the prepared baking dish.  Bake for 25 minutes or until bubbly.  Remove from oven and let stand for 10 minutes before serving.

My whole family enjoyed this dish!

 

I Am a PC

Just in case you were wondering what happened to me and my blog, about three months ago, my laptop took its last gasp and died.  So, I have been without means of cyber communication ever since.  Sure, I would use my husband’s work laptop to check my e-mail every week or week-and-a-half, but I was unable to keep up with the blog.  I have to admit, I sort of missed it!

Yesterday, the family and I visited our local Best Buy.  While my husband talked to a salesperson about the pros and cons of different laptops, I strolled the kids around in one of those carts shaped liked a racecar.  Unweildy things!  We visited the television department, the gaming section, and–my personal favorite–the appliance department.

After much deliberation, my husband purchased a shiny, new laptop for me and my family.  Very thankful to my thoughtful, generous husband, and hoping to put this thing to good use!

 

Singing at Midnight

For the past couple of months, I have been studying the book of Acts.  I have been reading through slowly–very slowly–with the help of a commentary by John Stott.

This morning, I read about how Paul and Silas were in Philippi when they cast a demon out of a slave girl.  Her owners had been making money off of her ability to predict the future.  With the demon gone, the money was gone, too.  So, the owners dragged Paul and Silas to the city market and brought them before the magistrates.  They wrongfully accused Paul and Silas, had them beaten with rods, and then thrown into jail.

John Stott comments:  “It was a severe flogging, perhaps the first of the three Paul later mentioned, and it was followed by their being thrown into prison, with the instruction to the gaoler to keep them under close guard.  He therefore confined them in the inner cell and in the stocks.  It is wonderful that in such pain, with lacerated backs and aching limbs, Paul and Silas at about midnight were praying and singing hymns to God.  Not groans but songs came from their mouths.  Instead of cursing men, they blessed God.  No wonder the other prisoners were listening to them.”

I know that I have heard this passage from the Bible many times.  I even remember teaching this to my four-year-old Sunday school class.  But I don’t think I ever stopped to consider that the Bible says that the other prisoners were listening to Paul and Silas as they had their twelve o’clock praise session.  And the Bible doesn’t say that the prisoners were heckling Paul and Silas or telling them to shut up so they could get a few miserable hours of sleep.  Instead, it says that they were listening, and I can only imagine what they must have been thinking!

This passage encourages me all the more to glorify God as I encounter trials.  And the thing about trials is that they come in all shapes and sizes–everything from being cut off in traffic to the death of a loved one.  Though we can’t be certain what we will go through from day-to-day, from this account in the Bible, we can be certain of two things:  God always deserves our worship and those who don’t believe are watching and listening.

I hope to be like Paul and Silas.  When I experience tests, I want to sing instead of groan; I want to bless instead of curse.  To the Lord, this is a precious response, and, to the world, it is astonishing.  But, when unbelievers hear us singing in the midnights of our lives, they will have to consider the One who makes us sing.

 

Fun at the Library

Just got back from the library.  I don’t know what your experience is at the library, but mine resembles a 100 yard dash.  My philosophy is get in and get out, sort of like a marine on a hostage rescue mission (in this analogy, I guess the books are the hostages).  So, I usually end up grabbing the books that are on display on top of the shelves.  You know, the books that have a theme.  Oh, it’s Hispanic Heritage month.  Great!  What, is it Hanukkah already?  Fine.  So, it’s National Chinese Take-out Month.  Who knew?

Well, today, I sat my son Asher and daughter Iris down at a table with pieces of scrap paper and pencils.  When I returned from my sprint to collect them, my son informed me that he had written a letter to both me and his Dad.  When I asked what the letters said, he first solemnly read mine.

“Dear Mommy, I love you.  From, Asher.”

Of course, I was touched by his affectionate, imaginary note.  Then I asked what his letter to Daddy said.

“Dear Daddy, Take out the garbage!  From, Asher.”

Had to laugh, yes, right there in the library.  I think I might have guffawed (always wanted to use that word), and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that in a library.

 

Climbing Fences

Know your limits.  That’s not exactly a phrase that we as Americans like.  I think it’s almost ingrained in us–the idea of limitless possibilities with no fences or boundaries.  “Manifest Destiny” is alive and well in each of us; come to think of it, I don’t think it’s just Americans.  This is part of the human condition.  Any two-year-old on the planet will express the same sentiment:  Don’t tell me where I can and can’t go!  We say the same thing as adults just in a more sophisticated and filtered way.

As a woman with MS, I ran headlong into a limitation of my own when I attended an excerise class at the YMCA called “Bootcamp”.  The name should have tipped me off, but the class is basically comprised of intervals of torturous cardio activities followed by equally torturous strength training activities.  Suffice it to say, two days later, I can barely walk up and down stairs, and who knew toilet seats were so low?

I think I have come to grips with the fact that, for a variety of reasons, this class is not for me.  It may seem silly, but that’s hard for me to swallow–”not for me”.  For a long time, I have tried to deny that MS poses any limitations to my life, but that is simply not true.

This whole concept of limits reminds me of a verse from one of my favorite psalms.  “The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance (Psalm 16:6).”  God has placed boundaries on my life, and He has sovereignly and lovingly chosen them for me.  I want to see the fences around the terrain of my life as good and my life itself as a “beautiful inheritance” from the Lord.  When I look at it that way, why spend time trying to climb fences?