The Thrill of Victory, The Agony of Defeat

It happens all day, everyday. Who would have thought "first one to the car" could become a competitive sport? (or a contact sport for that matter). With three boys all about the same age, competition is a way of life in this house. I'm not just talking about soccer, football, wrestling, and wiffle ball - which, by the way, get played all year round, inside and out (I gave up on "no balls in the house" as a lost cause). I'm talking from the first thump to the ground off the top bunk to finishing Math first, to building the best lego robot (which becomes competitive in battle when the robots accumulate various powers to defeat the other robots - forcefields really complicate the matter), to plastic army guys battling it out in the hallway, to brushing teeth fastest (which has more than once become a toothpaste battle) to counting punch buggies on the highway, to racing up the steps, racing down the steps, who can make their candy last the longest, and the list truly could go on and on. I mean, they have taken "step on a crack, break your mama's back" to a whole new level. They have nearly been hit by cars in the parking lot trying to avoid cracks in the pavement. Without unnecessarily exposing my children's shortcomings, I will simply say that along with such competition, there is much opportunity to shepherd hearts as they deal with the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat a hundred times a day. One thing I am learning in the process is that boys are different from girls (me), and that is how God intended it. I call my boys my "little men". My mom started it when I decided to name Joshua and Caleb after the men of the Bible. She used to call them her "little men of a different spirit", because that's what the Bible calls Joshua and Caleb. Eventually, we shortened it and included Izzy in the bunch. Now, I say it to build my faith and theirs: they are going to be men someday. They are going to be leaders. I want them to be bold, godly leaders who take risks and fight for what is right, and protect others, and subdue the earth as is their God-given mandate. What I am seeing in the competitions is the pursuit of manhood, but corrupted by sinful little hearts. My job is to have faith for the future man in each of them, and point out the foolishness that is bound in their hearts now. I am learning. I don't gasp everytime somebody gets tackled. I know which bumps and cuts mean a trip to the E.R. and which don't. I know all of the signs for a concussion (pupils dilated unevenly, nausea, acting disoriented). I know which yells are anger, and which are pain. I know that it is possible to wrestle, and not be angry...but not for very long. And I know that these boys are a precious gift from God, and I see His glory when I behold the stunning difference between them and me. Viva la difference!

Success, Failure, and the Cross

I am finishing my first year of homeschooling this month. I can hardly believe how quickly it has gone by! For my own benefit I wanted to articulate one of the biggest things God showed me through the adventure of homeschooling. From the beginning I knew this was going to be difficult. God has been so gracious all along the way. If I could sum up one thing He continues to remind me of it would be that I need to bring both success and failure to the same place...to the Cross. You see, in my experience this year I remember times during Bible when I was just overwhelmed at the priviledge of learning about the gospel together. I would be crying while I tried to explain verses we were memorizing like Romans 5:8, just genuinely longing for them to really understand this amazing good news. And then, five minutes later I would be yelling at them for not paying attention to me. In academics, I have experienced the joy of seeing one of my children learn something for the first time because God granted wisdom to me for how to teach it. And yet, I also experienced the guilt of neglecting a subject(s) because I was lazy and didn't want to teach it. Every day all day long I am experiencing both success and failure. And in His kindness, God showed me, and continues to remind me (O that I would remember!)what to do with both: bring it to the cross. When I am successful, it is the direct result of grace flowing to me as a result of Jesus's dying on the cross. At the end of the day when I see the grace that was manifested, I want to go to Him with gratitude recognizing it was all of His grace. Also, I want to go to the cross to say HERE is where my righteousness is found...not in my good performance. When I fail, I must go to the cross and ask Jesus for forgiveness which is available because of His death and resurrection. It is in pondering the cross that I am reminded that my right standing before God is not affected by my poor performance. My access to grace is not nullified. My status as child of God is not void. What comfort this brings in the light of such sin (revealed many times in the context of homeschooling). When I take success and failure to the cross, what I am really doing is taking it there to cast it off and then cling to the cross. Thank you, God that in seeking to educate my children, I find myself to be the student in Your school of grace. Nothing in my hands I bring Simply to Thy cross I cling

Secret Signature of the Soul

"There have been times when I think we don't desire heaven; but more often I find myself wondering whether, in our heart of hearts, we have ever desired anything else....It is the secret signature of every soul, the incommunicable and the unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work....All your life an unattainable ecstacy has hovered just beyond the grasp of your consciousness. The day is coming when you will wake to find, beyond all hope, that you have attained it." C. S. Lewis The Problem of Pain. (quoted by John Piper in his book, When I Don't Desire God: How to Fight for Joy pg. 12)

My Bags Are Packed!

Imagine my surprise upon discovering that I, a 34 year old mother of four, had only packed two pairs of underwear for an entire week of vacation. I could picture the remaining pairs freshly washed, folded, and stacked on top of the other clothes in the laundry basket. Thankfully, a super Wal Mart (I'm not too proud for Hanes Her Way) came to the rescue. This reminds me of a very helpful illustration from an article I read several years ago called The Present Glories of Redemption by Paul Tripp (from the Journal for Biblical Counseling Volume17 no.2). He was saying that our redemption ensures that we have everything we need to live a life for the glory of God. He compared it to having a suitcase perfectly packed for every occasion we encounter in life; the significant and the mundane. I remember when I first read that article. My twins were two years old. The day before they had astounded me by taking handfuls of toilet paper, dipping it in the toilet, and throwing it by the globful on the ceiling and walls. They then proceeded to flush Duplos (jumbo lego blocks) down the toilet, causing it's demise. What amazed me is that all of this happened while I was on the phone for what seemed like only five minutes. A plummer friend of ours tried to fix the toilet, and in the end he had to take the toilet off of its base, pry out the perfectly shaped for mischief Duplos, and re-attach the toilet. When I first beheld the scene before me (which, by the way included soaking wet toddlers), I admit, I yelled at the boys (I'll spare you the ugly details), separated them on different towels in the room, and began cleaning up the mess with much complaining in my heart. The next day when I read the article, I was convicted not just about how I had treated my sons (I asked their forgiveness eventually), but also for my unbelief. Did I really believe that what I needed in that situation (self-control, patience and wisdom) would be there in my "suitcase" even in those unexpected moments that were generally met with sinful, knee-jerk reactions? Guess what? The next day I was able to find out the answer to that question. Once again I came downstairs (this time after putting their baby brother down for a nap) to a newly familiar sight: soaking wet twins dipping duplo men in the toilet. One of them looked up sheepishly and said, "I wost my guy!" I said, "You washed your guy, or you lost your guy?!" (You see, washing meant he still possessed the guy. Losing him meant he was flushed and probably lodged in our newly repaired toilet). "I wost him." After several frustrating attempts at getting him to annunciate, I tried to flush the toilet. The familiar, "clink" indicated he, indeed, lost his guy. And I was about to lose my temper when I remembered my "suitcase". I opened it by praying quietly, "O God, please help me to glorify you in this. I need patience, self-control, and wisdom here." After a deep breath I discovered that indeed, my suitcase had been packed. Truly one of the glories of the gospel is that we are actually able to make the right choices in the moment of testing however big or small. I am definitely not saying that I always respond to my circumstances in a way that glorifies God. How aware I am of times even today when I didn't respond with the patience or kindness that I should have. But it is so helpful to know that every thing I need for life and godliness is available for me because of Jesus' work on the cross. So when all of my kids need me at the same time, when my husband comes home late from work, when I absolutely do not feel like doing laundry, when I'm running late, when I am wanting to comfort a hurting friend, when I'm anxious about leading a meeting, when my kids do not want to do school, when I don't want to do school, whatever it may be - I can open the suitcase and find what I need in that very moment. My bags are packed! 2 Peter 1:3-4 (ESV) 3 His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, 4 by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.

Grandma Vegas Everywhere

My grandmother, Dolly Cecelia Mills, went to be with the Lord on April 21, 2005 in Las Vegas, Nevada. She was born with her twin sister, Delores who preceded her in death at age 16. She married Alton J. Mills and lived in New Orleans before settling in Las Vegas for over 40 years. Dolly was a homemaker who also cared for children as a nanny. She loved to shop and could never pass up a bargain! She was a devoted wife, loving mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. She was a blessing to all who knew her. This is a poem I wrote in her honor. If you never knew my grandmother, it may not make much sense to you, but to those of us who knew her and loved her, each image will be cherished in our memories forever.

Grandma Vegas* Everywhere

by Laurie Reyes

4/29/05

She's not here, but I can see her.

She's in a better place, yet still,

If I look all around me

I can see her if I will.

In the Mill's smiling dimples,

Or the almond-shaped eyes,

Long chins, high cheek bones;

And a love for bargain buys.

In the glitter of Las Vegas

Or the steel magnolia tree

"Go-go Speed Racer", "dosey dotes",

or "hey, Charlie!"

When I pass the corner Walgreens

When I see my set of twins

When my mom laughs uncontrollably

About her with Aunt Fran.

And I see grandma in my mother

As she is my dad's right arm.

I can see her in my sister

With her glamour and her charm.

I can see her in my daughter

With her sparkle and her shine,

I will evermore be grateful

That her life echoes in mine.

*We always called her "Grandma Vegas" growing up.

Official Sugar-free Post Place

I am officially starting my sugar fast today. If you would like to join me, please leave a comment. I know Zo, you're starting on May1, which makes perfect sense. It's a long story why I am starting now (one reason being the three pounds I gained on vacation). I'll spare you the other details. My vision for this "support group post" is that we would just comment here throughout the month. Comments could be anything from struggles to victories. So if you're joining in, come back here to encourage or be encouraged. It would be great to get first comments about why you are doing this. Even if you aren't cutting out sugar, if you have something encouraging to say, please leave your comments. Also, I hope to continue more meaningful posting soon. I know the last few have been just chatter. I have a conference later this week, but hopefully after that I will be inspired to offer something on this blog that is a bit more substantive.

minivan moments

I'm doing time this weekend. Time in the minivan that is. (I'll spare you the obvious parallels). We are taking a truly God-provided family vacation next week which requires a four hour drive to get there. "Four hours, big deal," I hear you saying. But did I mention that my boys are very typical seven and six year olds who don't sit still for four minutes, let alone four hours. One of them does school standing up, and eats dinner with one knee in his chair and the other leg standing. They also have this thing about touching each other. I never dreamed (or read about in parenting books) how many times I would repeat the phrase, "stop touching your brother," along with its synonym phrases, "stop hitting, stop tackling...in the bathroom, stop hugging your brother - he can't breathe!" I'll leave to your imagination what four hours with only a booster and seat belt to separate them could look like. Enough whining. I have to say that the mini van, even with its built in propensity for sanctification, is a place where family memories are made. Here are a few mini-van moments: moment #1 There was the time I saw in the rear view mirror my son picking his nose and corrected him. Two minutes later, after deep thoughts, he said, "Mom, did God see me picking my nose and tell you to tell me to stop?" If I were smarter I would have said "Yes, God tells mommy everything you're doing behind my back." moment #2 Then there was the time I thought it would be good to have a discussion about what Daddy did for a living (my husband was going to be ordained as a pastor that Sunday). The conversation went something like this: Me: "What do you think daddy does when he goes to work?" boys: he's a fireman! No, he's a builder who builds things! I know, Daddy is police guy! Me: (a little apprehensive, but hopeful) Well, daddy helps people like those guys, but - boys: I knew it, He's a superhero! Me: (as enthusiastically as possible) Daddy's a pastor!!! boys: (quiet for a minute) What's that? Me: (brief explanation of Jason's role) boys: (clearly unimpressed) As a side note, however, I will say that because of their daddy's hero-status, as they have grown older, all of my boys have said at one time or another that they want to be a pastor when they grow up...along with being profession football players. Moment #3: In contrast to the conversation discussing Jason's job, I recall a mini moment when they were discussing what they wanted to be. The conversation included military careers, professional sports, carpentry, fire fighter, police officer, and any other exciting, action packed jobs you can imagine five and six year olds aspiring to. I was curious what my two year old daughter would say so I asked, "Maggie, what do you want to be when you grow up?" She answered, "a mommy," Caleb (one of my twins) immediately said, "Whoa, no way...THAT is a really hard job." (a comment which did not follow any previous job titles. From the mouths of babes...) Other moments from the minivan include one of my sons always wanting to pray when we see an ambulance en route. Or, times when I hear my daughter singing at the top of her lungs, "Oh what a dorious history I know" (instead of oh what a glorious mystery You are). Or the numerous times I have had to ask their forgiveness (always readily given) on my way to church because of anger and impatience getting them out the door. When I look in the rear view mirror I am amazed how the four faces have changed. They have gone from chubby, fuzzy-headed babies in car seats to skinny, scruffy-haired kids. I will blink and one of them will be driving me. In my metaphoric mini-van, I want to enjoy every minute of the ride. God help me to love everything entailed in the rear view mirror image. I can't wait for tomorrow's drive.

My Fifth Grade Eating Habits

No, this is not about how I used to eat in the fifth grade. It's about the fact that my current eating habits could be described as what a fifth grader would eat if left alone in the house. For example, this morning I am contemplating a breakfast consisting of chocolate birthday cake (leftover from Sunday), and another cup of coffee (okay, the coffee isn't usually a fifth grade choice, but you get what I'm saying). I want to begin eating healthier. It seems every time I decide to focus on improving my eating habits, vanity creeps in. What begins as a desire to eat in a way that honors God and contributes to energy for the tasks He has called me to, degenerates into trying to lose weight or look better. I read a book a while ago called Love to Eat, Hate to eat by Elise Fitzpatrick. I think I'll pull it out again. It discusses the heart issues behind eating (or not eating). But what I would love to get my hands on is a website, book, magazine, etc. that tells how to just eat healthy. No low-carb trends. No barley green beneath the tongue. Just good old fashion nutrition. Does anybody know of such a resource? If you could leave your suggestions that would be great.

the bucket and The Fountain

I admit I am not a poet. Most of my poetry can be sung to a Barney melody. But still, I thought I would attempt to articulate something God is revealing to me through verse. I was inspired by a teaching called The Supremacy of God in Prayer * by...yes...John Piper (I know I'm a bit obsessed). Well, here it goes:

A foolish lady labored gravely

struggling up a mountain,

With a bucket full of dirty water

to pour into a Fountain.

This Fountain gushed with grace

and mercy for the ones below;

She thought her bucket of effort

could contribute to its flow.

Exhausted by the staggering weight

of "do better and try harder,"

She thought she heard the Fountain say,

"Listen to me, my daughter.

If you truly want to honor Me

and show the world My glory,

Then empty your bucket of everything

whenever you come before Me.

Don't come with two ounces of goodness,

Don't come with a cupful of deeds,

Don't come with a gallon of effort

To pay off your balance of needs.

Instead take the empty bucket,

And stand in the Fountain of grace.

I will cleanse you; I will fill you

And I will receive honor, glory, and praise."

She dumped upon the dirt worn path

The murky works and deeds.

She jumped into the fountain;

She was washed, and filled, and free!

A much more poignant way of saying this is:

Nothing in my hands I bring

Simply to Thy cross I cling

Naked come to Thee for dress

Helpless look to Thee for grace

To Thy fountain, Lord I fly

Wash me Savior, or I die.

*in case you don't know, if you click on the blue words, it will send you to that link (John Piper' teaching in this case).

My new favorite snack food

You know how salty and sweet combined seems to make the best snack? Well my friend Briana made these pretzel snacks that were so good, I had to get the recipe, and now I make them all the time. You take mini pretzels and spread them out on a cookie sheet, put a chocolate candy melt (the kind Wilton makes...I like white the best) in the middle. Pop them in an oven set on its lowest heat setting. Wait a few minutes until the candy melt is soft, but not liquid. Then take out the cookie sheet and press an M&M in the center of each candy melt. Let it get hard again before you remove them from the cookie sheet. My kids made these for Valentine's gifts for my family. We used pink, red, and white M&M's. For spring we are making them with the pastel colors. My friend Mitzy suggested using the slightly larger square (tic-tac-toe) style pretzel and melting a Rolo on top. That sounds good, but I have yet to try it. Have a great day!

Survivor: Hermit Crab Edition

It was my mom's idea to buy the children hermit crabs. At first I thought, "Should I really take on caring for any other living creatures? Maybe when my kids are getting baths on a somewhat regular basis, and not eating a pop tart as one of their three meals a day."Well, ready or not, the hermit crabs arrived...all four of them. My initial disapproval soon gave way to pity for these crabs. In fact, I took each one individually and whispered to it, "I'm sorry you live here." Why, you may ask would I say such a thing? These hermit crabs get played with every single day of their lives. Every day they are removed from their "hermie huts" to be run through an obstacle course of legos, live in a lincoln log cabin, take a bath in a bowl of water, ride (faster than you think) in the back of a little tykes fire truck, and most recently (devised by my daughter), take a spin through twinkle twirl's dance studio complete with rotating disc, flashing lights, and music. Don't get me wrong; these hermit crabs are well protected. My mom told the boys that if the hermit crabs were held upside down, they would die. So now, if someone (usually Maggie) holds one even the slightest bit cock-eyed, no matter where they are in the house, the boys sense it and come running, shouting, "You're killing it!!!!!!" "It's dying!" And then there is an inevitable dive in slow motion across the floor to "rescue" the endangered hermit crab. Speaking of upside-down hermit crabs, the strangest thing happened last week. I went to check on the crabs (they had gone un-played with for two days or so - I figured they were disoriented) so I lifted up the hermie hut to discover Pinkie laying on her back with all of her legs and pinchers laying around her, and Hulk looking guilty beside her. (like some crazy Hermit Crab Silence of the Lambs) I picked her up and looked inside for any possible signs of life. Usually a body plops out of the shell because a dead crab can't hold the shell on. No sign of a dead body...but surely she was dead. How was I to explain to my daughter that I suspected Hulk had turned Pinkie onto her back and proceeded to pinch all of her legs off. I couldn't do it, so I left Pinkie in there for a couple of days thinking just maybe she had survived her tragedy. One morning I decided that it was time to get rid of Pinkie. Just to be sure she was dead, I put her in water because all hermit crabs (living ones, that is) will come out in water. Guess what?! She came out with four new white legs. Pinkie was alive!!!! We celebrated with a round in Twinkle Twirls dance studio, followed by a much needed nap in the Little People play house. Perhaps this is a bit of a stretch, but have there ever been times in your life when you felt like one of our hermit crabs? You know, one day you're in the comfort of a pet store, being left alone, the next day, you're whizzing across a hard wood floor in a G.I. Joe jeep. For us it's more like, one day we are sleeping in until 9 am when we get up to take a hot shower and begin the day; the next day we are breastfeeding a newborn while our half-clad toddler smells suspiciously like Mr. Clean. There have been a few seasons that felt like I got flipped upside-down in the hermie hut. In those times, particularly in the earlier years of mothering, God taught me the only way to have peace and a proper perspective in the midst of these circumstances: time in His presence, which meant time in His Word. While I would never want to make an already frazzled mommy feel guilt over not having a "quiet time" with the Lord, I would say that if you want to know the key to surviving those hermit crab days, it is truly in making reading God's word and encountering His presence there a priority. Lifting our eyes to Him, and off of the flashing, twirling circumstances of life is where your soul will find its greatest joy, and satisfaction. Psalms 63:1-8 (ESV) 1 O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. 2 So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory. 3 Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you. 4 So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands. 5 My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food, and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips, 6 when I remember you upon my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night; 7 for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy. 8 My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.

Principle Over Practice

One prays diligently up to two hours a day. Another has family devotions promptly at 8:30 a.m. Then there's the mom who walks every day with one child in a backpack, two in a double jogging stroller. Still another makes home-made doughnuts with her daughters every time it snows. One clever woman buys pizza dough from her local pizzeria and makes her own pizzas at home to save money. Then there is the one who keeps a budget so detailed that she even factors in the soda her husband enjoys drinking each week. Another has taught her children to do laundry (did I mention they are 7 and 6?). A certain phenomenon happens when I hear about things my godly friends are doing: what I never would have thought to feel guilt over, I suddenly have a nagging little voice that says, "That is a good thing she's doing. I should be doing that thing. I am not doing that thing. I feel guilt because I am not doing that good thing." Before I continue, I need to make two things very clear. First, the women who do these amazing things do it humbly, not boasting about their practices. They are not the voice saying, "you need to do this, Laurie." Secondly, I love to hear practical ideas of how to better serve my family. It is important to glean from other's strengths. God uses the practices of others to inspire me and challenge me, and perhaps most important of all - humble me. But with that said, I am grateful for a teaching I heard by a woman named Jenny Detwiler that helped me understand the difference between principle and practice. This has saved me from unnecessary guilt over things that really aren't sin. Each of these ladies is expressing her commitment to biblical priorities through a practice that she has the grace to do given her gifting, capacity, and season of life. The principles might be communing with God through prayer, exercising to be strong for the task God has called us to, showing kindness to our families, being wise in money management, raising up children in the way they should go, etc. These are biblical principles that we are all called to, but they will find expression in a variety of ways...not all suitable to me or my family. Jenny also suggests frequently re-evaluating your practices to be sure they are still appropriate for your season and situation. She also suggests trusting your husband's leadership. What does he think are appropriate practices that would serve him and the children? It has been so helpful to be freed from the subtle guilt that comes from elevating a practice over a principle.

Fantasy, Meet Reality

It began when the nurse placed my oldest twin in my arms soon after his birth. In the fantasy I had created in my head (partly based on a circa 1988 made for t.v. movie, and partly on the testimonials of many moms before me) a maternal gush would erupt from my heart toward this child. Reality is, the only things I felt in that moment were relief, fatigue, and thirst (what is up with the ice-chips?) I thought I had maternal gush with my third son, but it was only the Percoset which dropped me into a post-partum stupor the first week I was home. Perhaps the most shocking collision between fantasy and reality was breastfeeding. The fantasy: me and the boys in white, somehow in soft focus; them peacefully partaking of the milk of life, me with a tired smile on my face looking lovingly at my babies. Reality: Rock hard Double D's stretched painfully beyond their 34 B capacity; blisters (who'd have thought you could get them there); pain that made me want to punch something everytime they latched on. Before I continue and cause great concern to all the maternal gushers and lactation experts, I want you to know that even though it wasn't in the hospital, very soon after they were born, I fell madly in love with each of my babies. There are emotions reserved for them that simply can't be described with words. And I even cherish fond memories of milky smiles and warm baby bodies pressed up to mine while I nursed them. But the new-born phase seems to most tangibly illustrate something that characterizes much of my experience of motherhood: fantasy and reality are two very different things. Before I had children I fantasized being some combination of Elisabeth Elliot, June Cleaver, and pre-jail time Martha Stewart (now what in my average-at-best history compelled me to even consider such an image for myself I do not know, but I suppose we'll save that for another post). Reality is I constantly fall short of my own expectations of who I should be. Reality is that I am angrier than I want to be. Reality is I am more selfish than I want to be. Reality is I am more inconsistent than I want to be. Reality is I pray less than I should. Reality is I love comfort more than I should. It seems a classic case of Romans 7:15 "For what I will to do, that I do not practice, but what I hate, that I do." Motherhood keeps me exposed for who I really am, a sinner in need of a Savior. It is the mercy of God that I am seeing the real me. I don't like it in the moment, but seeing my sin has caused me to understand better, appreciate more, and grow in deeper affection for another reality. It is the reality of the gospel. Reality is "It is by grace you have been saved through faith, and this not from yourselves. It is the gift of God, not of works, that no man should boast."(Eph. 2:8,9). Reality is "If we confess our sins He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (1John 1:9). Reality is "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Phil 4:13) Reality is "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor 12:9). Reality is that "when we are faithless, He is faithful". All of this is reality for me because "God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together in Christ...that in the ages to come He might show the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness toward us in Christ Jesus." (Eph 2:4,5,7). How would I understand these verses if I were able to actually be for ten minutes, the fantasy me? When I peel back the layers of the "fantasy" mother I long to be, what I find at the center is a golden me. I want to be perfect, and beautiful, and dare I say, worshiped. But because of God's patience, and mercy, He shows me who I am. But He also shows me His Son. He shows me the reality of the gospel at work in my life. He shows me grace flowing from the cross in forgiving me, and changing me. So the next time I see "reality" and she doesn't look like June Cleaver, rather than spiral down into condemnation, frustration, hopelessness, or discontentment, I pray God will help me to remember the more powerful reality: there is only One who is worthy of all glory, honor and praise, and He has made a way for me to be forgiven, set free, and live for His glory. Now that reality is beyond any of my wildest dreams!

The Smell of Grace

I was listening to a teaching while making dinner the other day when one comment from the pastor caught my attention. He said he used to take his old Bible from highschool (he's now in his fifties) down off of the bookshelf and just smell it to remind himself of grace. The Holy Spirit quickened to my mind my own Bible from highschool. It is a small, burgundy New American Standard Bible given to me by my parents for Easter my senior year of highschool. My eyes filled with tears at the thought of this Bible because, indeed it represents such grace to me. The next day, one of my sons wanted to take the burgundy Bible to Sunday school. I told him no, because it was a special Bible and I didn't want to risk it getting lost at church. He asked me why it was special so I explained to him that when I was a teenager, the Bible seemed boring to me. I didn't understand it very well, and I had a hard time reading it everyday. But one year on New Year's Eve, I was getting ready to make yet another doomed commitment to read the Bible each day, when I decided to just pray ,"God, please help me to want to read your Word." I woke up the next morning and began reading. To make a long story short, I explained to my son that God, being so kind and gracious, had answered my prayer. It wasn't everyday at first, but eventually, as God spoke to me through scripture, and I saw my life changing, I was compelled to read daily. I love the smell of grace on that Bible. It was in that book that I fell in love with the Word of God. It was there that I had experienced for the first time divine illumination. I learned in that Bible how true communion with God really happens. I learned that those words were life to me. Psalm 19:7-10 The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul; the testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple; the statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes; the fear of the Lord is clean, enduring forever; the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, yea than much fine gold; sweeter also than the honeycomb. I use a different Bible these days, but the same grace is there in its pages. If anyone actually reads this post, I'd love to hear about when and how you fell in love with God's Word.

Ordinary Heroes: Redefining Greatness

It is an impressive group...including the likes of Elizabeth Elliot, Amy Carmichael, Elisabeth Scott Stam, and Gladys Aylward. These were the heroes of my single years. I dreamed of being like these ladies. I imagined myself in various scenarios like jungle huts, orphan asylums, ministry to other women, and maybe even writing a book to chronicle my adventures. These women made a difference in the world, an obvious difference. Echoes of their lives lived in consecration to God still ring in the hearts of many. Something happened, however, after I was married with children. My heroes changed. I don't know when exactly, but at some point I began to look around me at women in my church. Women whom I would have respected, but not thought of as "heroic". But now, now that I am doing what I am doing, and realizing how hard it is to do well, I view them differently. At the top of my list is my mother. Now I know how she laid down her life for our family each and every day for many years. My new heroes are my friend Kathleen who with three children three years old and younger, patiently cared for them day and night for years while her husband finished an advanced degree. She did it with little complaint. She did it well. Then there is my other friend Kathy who with as much savvy as any CEO creatively runs her house on a limited budget to release her husband to pursue full-time ministry even though it meant a cut in pay. There are other friends who live with chronic aches and pains, yet still do housework and care for their toddler in spite of the pain. The newest additions to my list of heroes are the homeschool moms. One of them homeschools children in high school, junior high, and elementary school, with a toddler under foot as well. Another has homeschooled long enough to graduate two children. The list of heroes is ever growing. What I find heroic about these women is that their lives are composed of hundreds of choices to either obey God and glorify Him, in the mundane, or live life for themselves. These are simple choices in most cases, but hard choices, redundant choices, and unappreciated choices. They don't make one huge grand decision that lands them in a hut in Africa, they choose to get up and make breakfast. They choose to do laundry. They choose to lovingly correct a child. They choose to give baths before bedtime, tell a story, sing a song. They choose to teach a disrespectful 15 year old who would rather go to school. They live their lives primarily for others. This is not to say that the heroes of my single years have become any less heroic. But it is to say that I now understand that even their lives that seemed so deliciously radical were composed of the mundane choices of life as well. They were able to do big things well because they faithfully did the little things well. Perhaps this is not a redefining of heroes as much as it is the redefining of heroic. To all of you ordinary heroes out there (the 3 who actually read this blog), I want you to know I think you are extraordinary! Oh how the grace of God is exquisitely displayed in your lives. I also want to remind you that even though what you do is done in complete anonymity, there is One who sees it all. How pleased He must be.

sleep deprivation preceeds sweet desperation

I have chronic insomnia. The last two nights it has been worse than usual because of a sick child. He wakes up, wakes me up. He falls back to sleep. I stay awake. In these wee hours of morning I am prone to irrational anxiety over everything from, "do my kids brush their teeth enough?" to guilt over not teaching my daughter letter recognition. The last two nights of insomnia included legitimate concern for my son, but with the added irrational fear that 2 am brings. I would love to say that I spent the time in prayer. My husband's great granny used to pray when she had insomnia. He remembers her saying, "God provided extra opportunity to pray last night." That was it. No complaining. No droning on about how tired she was. Well...I remembered great granny's example in the middle of the night. I tried to pray. It lasted 30 seconds. I tried again. When morning finally came I was too tired to have my regular prayer time or Bible reading. All of this leads to the second part of my little story: sweet desperation. I homeschool my twin second graders and first grader (he's the sick one). I also have a three year old daughter. When I came down to greet them this morning, I just thought, "I can't do this today." I was desperate for God's grace to help me. I barely prayed for it, but God answered. It wasn't pretty at all times. I had to ask forgiveness numerous times throughout the school-day. But we did every subject, and I did most of the housework planned for the morning. I know to most people this might not seem like a huge demonstration of grace. But if you knew my tendencies toward complaining, laziness, and self-pity you would say with me, "Wow God! You really showed Your power today!" The sweetest grace of all was the brief time I spent with Him after school while the kids were in the basement playing. In His goodness He provided the right reading material, a book by John Piper called, Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ. I have read it before, but what a sweet reminder: "We were made to know and treasure the glory of God above all things; and when we trade that treasure for images, everything is disordered." Because I am weaker than usual today, in my brain, in my body, even emotionally, I believe my heart was softer and ready to receive this word from God. Sleep deprivation is humbling. What a reminder of the difference between me and God. I go short a few hours of sleep and I am foggy, irritable, and tired (of course). But God does not sleep or slumber. He has no need of rest. He is the glorious One. It is not sleep that will make all seem well with my world, it's treasuring His glory.