Cancel The Pity-party

I'll spare you the mundane details, but it had been a long day. A screaming preschooler and a scurrying toddler wore me down and wore me out.

That night after prayers and hugs good-night, my husband and I stood in our quiet room. Myron held me, and I cried out the stress of the day.

"I feel like a terrible mother," I said.

* * *

"We mothers share this grief, this worry, this grinding conscience that says we never do enough.

Or that we never are enough."

from Life in Defiance by Mary DeMuth

* * *

In one brief paragraph, this author summed up my feminine fear and inadequacy.

But now aware of "this grief" as she says, I resolve to question it.

Matthew records an unusual encounter Jesus has with a mom. She pleads with Jesus to help her sick daughter. As she kneels before Him saying, "Lord, help me," Jesus replies by calling her race "dogs" compared to the "children" of Israel.

What would I have done in that moment? Walked away offended? Defended my people? Made a snappy reply about my worth as a person? Told Him everything we'd suffered?

She does none of the above. She keeps the focus on Jesus. "'Yes, Lord,' she said, 'but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table.'"

Wow. Do I focus on Jesus so much that His position and power eclipse my own human shortcomings? Or am I still trying to patch them up and be my own savior?

Jesus, impressed with this response too replies, "Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted."

As I sat with this story, I was struck at how Jesus' responses allow us to see the depth and beauty of this woman's faith in Him. She does not focus on her own lack, only His ability and compassion to help and heal.

---

At 4:22 AM, I awoke to a thud. My daughter had fallen out of bed. After getting her tucked in for a few more precious hours of sleep, I asked God to help me overcome my self-pity. Put the spotlight back on Me, came the gentle reply.

Just as the woman knelt before Jesus and kept seeking Him, I determine to do the same. In the screaming and scurrying, in the sweet singing and story times, I intentionally shift the focus Up. My peace is starting to reign.

Lord, forgive my many pity-parties. I sought You LORD, and You answered me; You delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. (see Psalm 34)

Why I Don't Smoke or Fear Death

For some reason, I keep thinking a blog needs to be a profound, life-changing read. Most of the blogs I read, though, are simple snapshots of everyday life.

I think it started when Uncle Bud came to live with us Monday-Fridays for about six months. He had lived on the east coast, and I started getting to know him after cancer and God gripped him in his early 50's.

He and Aunt Gerrie lived in rural Minnesota and came to the big city of Fargo weekly for radiation and chemo treatments. One night Uncle Bud listened as I practiced piano. When I finished playing, he said in his weak but deep voice, "Sara, don't mess up your life like I did."

I just nodded my head, not sure how to respectfully say, "Don't worry - I won't."

What started as lung cancer from a relentless smoking addiction soon overtook his entire body. One Friday morning before school, I said good-bye to him for the weekend. When he looked at me, he said nothing. Searching his eyes I saw only the cancer, not my Uncle Bud. He died two days later.

That last look still haunts me. The conversation at the piano bench still warns me when facing moral decisions. I was fourteen at the time - impressionable and teachable.

I've done plenty of dumb things in my life, but now you know why smoking isn't one of them. That and other experiences of loss taught me also that life really is brief. We don't have as much time as we think. Or do we?

I didn't realize until this past year how much the fear of death motivated me. That's why every blog, every meal with my husband and children, every conversation with a friend, etc. needed to be just right. What if it was the last one?

Certainly losing my first husband suddenly in an accident in 1999 only helped to reinforce that fear. (More on that another time...) But lately, God's teaching me something new - I do not need to be afraid of death.

The author of Hebrews writes that Jesus came "so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil—and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death."

Did you see it there in black and white? - and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death! WOW!

No more fear of the final and the last. My fear of death has been the fear of "not enough" - not enough time, work done, love shared, words said, hugs given. But when those fears of 'not enough' surface I can quiet them now with the truth - He is enough and because of Him, so am I and the number of days He gives me.

I realize this blog may not be the most profound thing I write or that you read today, but I can live, and I mean really LIVE, with that.

Dear Lord, Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. (see Psalm 90.)

Holding Hands and Learning The Way

"Winnie, do you know why we hold hands in the parking lot? That's right-to be safe," my three year old taught her best friend. As we walked into the grocery store, she held my right hand and Pooh's left paw.

Her words were exactly mine except that she made them personally applicable to her fuzzy friend.

Jesus said that, "The words I say to you are not just my own. Rather, it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his work."

Can you imagine only saying the words God gave you?

In studying the Gospels, I'm so thankful God records so many naive blurts of the disciples. They were human and learning Jesus' Way. God literally knows we can't understand everything.

We aren't called to be Christ, but Jesus does go on to say that "anyone who has faith in Me will do what I've been doing."

dip-lo-mat n.
1. One, such as an ambassador, who has been appointed to represent a government in its relations with other governments.
2. One who uses skill and tact in dealing with others.

Perhaps one of the best compliments the Father could give me is that I am diplomatic. Not p.c. or "tolerant," but a person that represents the kingdom of grace and love in a selfish, cruel world. A woman who uses skill and tact instead of her ego to make a difference.

* * *Do Good - Winnie - do you know why we hold hands? To be safe. What instructions and inspirations has God given you that He in turn wants you to share with others? Share your thoughts in a comment below.

Lord, give me desire and diplomacy to share You and Your Way with others.

Give Me A List

I handed my three year old an index card with a quantity, name and rough drawing of several items.

"What's this, Mommy?"

"Your shopping list. Can you help me at the store today?"

"Yes!" my three year old said.

I knelt next to her. "Okay - what's this?" I asked, pointing at the first four fruits.

"Apples," she replied. Whew - at least I can draw a recognizable apple!

We read the list, and she hesitated at the last item. "That's a strawberry snack," I explained.

"A strawberry snack? For me?" she turned and gave me a big smile.

"Yes, for you when we are all done with our shopping trip. I appreciate your help at the store." I said as I squeezed her little shoulders.

Up and down the aisles, she held her list and I held mine. For the first time in months we got through the store without several potty breaks, time outs, or please-everyone-stare-at-me tantrums.

The difference? You already know it - she had something to do! The Father who created us knows we want our Parent's attention and approval. We want a list so we know what to do.

Jesus had a conversation on this very topic with the people following Him.

Jesus said, “Don’t be so concerned about perishable things like food. Spend your energy seeking the eternal life that the Son of Man can give you. For God the Father has given me the seal of his approval.”

They replied, “We want to perform God’s works, too. What should we do?”

Jesus told them, “This is the only work God wants from you: Believe in the one he has sent.”

I admit, being told to believe sounds a little like telling a three year old to just pick out a few apples. Is that even a real "work"? What does that mean?

At the risk of redundancy, I believe it means believe. If my daughter had tried to grab and read my list at the store, we would have just spent the errand wrestling and struggling with one another.

Do Good - What does it mean to believe? Do a little research starting at BibleGateway.com and Dictionary.com.

We can't understand God's list. It's not written in language we can understand at this stage of development. Instead we believe and trust that we have all we need to successfully fulfill our purpose and find fulfillment in Him.

My list for today? You guessed it - believe. Actively, completely, I live my life choosing to believe Jesus is God's Son and that through Him I have life. I don't want to miss a moment of it, especially the strawberry snacks!