Being a Follower

“Dad, where are you going?  Can I go?” is the all too familiar question around my house. My nine year old son, J.P., is my husband’s shadow. Wherever Jeremiah goes, J.P. is always close behind asking questions, seeking guidance and wanting to emulate everything my husband does and says. From setting up and taking down stuff at church to spitting sunflower seeds to being the ball boy for Jeremiah’s football team,  J.P. will do just about anything to have that precious and needed time with his father. There is an innate hunger for J.P. to follow Jeremiah’s footsteps.

 There in my own heart I see a parallel appetite to follow my Heavenly Father. I desperately want to pursue Him, ask lots and lots of questions, and follow His lead. But in truth, I wonder if I am as willing as my son is to do whatever it takes to have that kind of relationship with my Father? Sometimes I don’t like the tasks He is doing and think surely He can’t mean me to do them? Sometimes, in a childlike way, I ask a question so many times but forget to wait and listen for the answer.  In my self-centeredness I don’t always find the time to follow the example of how He says I am to live my life.

I am lazy, at times. I am imperfect, way too often. I am flawed, always.

Am I a hopeless cause? No.

The Bible says that the Lord “created my inmost being, He knit me together in my mother’s womb” (Psalm 139:13-14).  My heavenly Father knows me, knows everything about me and still loves me! With my deficiencies and limitations God still desires to draw me in and live & reign in my heart every minute of every day. I cannot wait until I am perfect to chase after the footsteps of my Heavenly Father; I can try again and again, fresh and new each day.

So, TODAY  I will choose to say, “Father, where are You going? Can I go?”

Prayer: Lord, forgive me of my short comings and allow me to follow You in all my ways, every day. I love You Lord and seek to know you more and more along the way. May my life bring glory to Your name alone. Amen. 

How Much More to Give?

“I have had it!” I scream as if breaking the sound barriers of my soul. I throw myself down on the floor. In my rage, I kick my feet, stomping and jerking my legs from side to side. With my arms flailing in circles, I clench my fists and raise them to the invisible opponent I am wrestling with. Snarling and spitting, I yelp out one final moan towards the heavens and then lay silent, flat on my back. I am angry. I am exhausted.

In my weakness, I whisper, “Why must I give up so much of my life?”

Then louder. “ No one seems to cares about what I want.

Even louder, “Where am I in all of this?”

 As loud as my heart will cry out, “How much more can one person give?”

Rolling over on to my stomach, I curl my feet under my bent knees. Gently I raise my tear stained eyes not even bothering to wipe them away and suddenly begin to see something that was not there before.  It is clear, just past the shadow in front of me:  a wooden cross. There is no one on it but there are obvious remains telling that someone was there. Dried up blood trails where beaten hands once were. A thorn of crowns at the nail centered at the top of the middle beam. A tiny shred of linen fabric left at the place where the feet could not bear the weight of its occupant.

From behind me a voice begins calling me by name, without judgment or disdain of the ugliness and self-centeredness I am adorned in.  He comes closer, wrapping His arms around me and enfolding every inflamed and selfish part of my being. There is love. There is peace. Without a single word spoken His touch tells me, “Keep sacrificing until there is nothing left… just as I did for YOU!”

“Then Jesus said to his followers, “If any of you want to be my follower, you must stop thinking about yourself and what you want. You must be willing to carry the cross that is given to you for following me.  Any of you who try to save the life you have will lose it. But you who give up your life for me will find true life.” (Matthew 16:24-25--ERV)

Prayer: Lord, I choose to follow You. Please change me and help me not be so self centered. Give me the strength to follow You in your example of a life of sacrifice. This is a hard prayer but I know it will bring glory to Your name. I trust in You alone to guide me; I surrender my whole life to You!

Touch

There are many so many different kinds of touches:

·        A common high five between sports fans after a successful play.

·        A gentle pat on the back of a beloved dog as she sits next to you while typing at the computer.

·        The familiarity of shoulders up against shoulders as a family watches a movie on the couch.

·        The closeness between a husband and a wife literally unparalleled to anything else.

·        The unexplainable stirring in our souls from God exchanging fear for peace during prayer.

They are all the gentle, sweet touches that add delight and joy to our days. But what about the tenderness between a mother and her child? Did I miss that? Forget that one? Skip it somehow? No. A mother never forgets her child. But in living with a daughter with an attachment disorder, touch is not wanted, not invited, even rejected. Her heart was broken so many times before she ever came in to our lives that “touch” no longer holds the same meaning for her. No matter the intention behind it, my touch to her as her “new” mother makes her uncomfortable, ashamed. It is unwarranted.

But…

Today, I heard a whisper of a request spoken ever so faintly from her room. If I wasn’t so near to her room in the hallway I may have missed it. Was it a test to see if I too would abandon her need as she was so used to with her previous family? If I really loved her, I would be able to hear her quiet request, “Mom, can you put lotion on my back?” No, I would not neglect her. No, I would not leave her to fend for herself as she so often had to do in Ethiopia. I knelt down beside her and honored her plea. I gently rubbed in some lotion on her back. Her head was down but her lips curved upward. A hidden smile.

As the children rode away on their bikes in the driveway racing off to school, I hollered to them as I do every day as they leave, “Have a good day. I love you!”

She shouts back with an unexpected and almost unimaginable response, “I love you too, Mom.”

She has touched my heart.

Light hearted & pun-ny

My son asks me if I will be riding bikes with them to school today. I growl to myself feeling like I have no choice. I scratch my head and ask myself, “What is wrong with me?” Is it that I don’t want to take the time and care to see my children off to school today? No. I am very blessed to be able to stay at home and am available to be there for daily morsels of time with my children. It is a gift.

But the part that is somewhat askew deep within my psyche is that I am really looking forward to cleaning my bathrooms and I do not want to be delayed. After a 3 day weekend with all 5 kids and my husband home, the bathrooms are in desperate need of a cleaning. I can’t wait to spray down all 3 bathrooms, go to battle against the grime and filth layered on every surface in the rooms. I am anxious to grab my weapons to wrestle with the finger prints and mud knowing I will come out victoriously smelling like Clorox bleach!

Whether staying at home or working, every mom must face the task of housework. We each have the jobs we love and we each have the jobs we just suffer through. Some of my dearest friends find cooking to be a pleasure. They love to try new recipes and even enjoy the hunt for the precise ingredients. Me, on the other hand, cook as fast as I can to be done with it… but I don’t mind laundry & think folding clothes can be relaxing at times. Obviously cleaning is one of my favorite tasks, only below organizing. Yes, I find deep joy and satisfaction when putting order to chaos within my cabinets and closets!

The way we develop our taste or preferences to things makes me think about every time I go to the ice cream shop.  I am astounded at some of the flavors I would never consider eating, ever: black cherry, rainbow sherbet, coffee. But In the end, I think housework is a lot like ice cream. We each know exactly what we love and what we don’t love. I guess it’s fair to say, “to each his “cone”"!

Prayer: May someone “get it” and even find some humor in my play on words at the end of this blog entry. I pray I am not the only one who loves a play on words… and giggled the rest of the day about it. Thank you Lord that we don’t always have to be serious when we pray and that You love sharing in every part of our lives, even housework.