Farewell, 2012

On this, the last day of the year 2012, you may find yourself, as do I, pondering the events of the past year and perhaps making resolutions for the new one.  Every year I have made resolutions.

 I found myself frustrated, looking back at what I had wanted to get done over the past year.  The plans that I had for myself.  Life always got in the way.  For some reason, the resolutions that I set always seemed to somehow get sabotaged.  Why does it feel like I can't ever get anything done?!

That's where I'm wrong.  True, what I wanted to get done didn't get done.  What I planned didn't get accomplished.  But is it true that nothing got done?  Absolutely not. God had His own set of resolutions, plans, and projects for me to get done, and His plans were beautifully established.

No, I may not have written any books this year.  But through a good deal of self-study and further inspiration from the Lamplighter Guild, I learned about storytelling.  God knew that I wasn't ready yet. Will I be this next year?  Maybe.  Maybe not.

I could go into great detail about the various things that God had for me this year, but for the sake of time and space, I will leave you with this encouragement,

Trust in the Lord with all your heart

And do not lean on your own understanding.

 In all your ways acknowledge Him,

And He will make your paths straight.

~Proverbs 3:5-6

Not that we should avoid planning and setting goals for ourselves-- on the contrary, I believe that goals are very important.  But we must always make sure that we are trusting the Lord with those plans and goals, and that we are sensitive to His will in them. God's mission-- not our mission-- must be in the forefront of our minds.  And His priorities, however small or insignificant they may seem to us, must be our priorities, in that we simply trust Him and allow Him to use us, to use our open hearts and hands to accomplish His will.  Yes, set goals, set resolutions, plan!  But don't allow those plans to get in the way of God's plans.  Don't allow Satan to lie to you, to call you a failure if you aren't able to accomplish any of your plans-- you trusted God with those plans, and He will bring to pass what He wills.  And that will be what really matters.

Commit your way to the LORD, Trust also in Him, and He will do it.

~Proverbs 37:5

Merry Christmas

The little girl tossed and turned in the top of her twin bunk bed.  She had been waiting all year for this day to come!  Her blue eyes searched the clock, as they had on a cycle of just about every fifteen minutes earlier that night: 5:30am.  It was pitch black outside.  She was only nine, but she still knew that she should wait-- the rest of the house was desolate.  She was the only one awake.  But it was finally morning!  Not just any morning-- Christmas morning!

She sat up in bed.  She had to do something to kill time-- she wanted desperately to go downstairs-- but she didn't want to see her presents before she was allowed to open them, it would be so much harder to wait, and worse, she didn't want to guess what was in them-- they had to be a total surprise.

Yes, all this was worked out in the nine-year-old's mind as she groped around her bed for her latest "read".  There were always multiple chapter books in her bed that either she was reading, had read, or was planning on reading-- one might wonder where the room was for her to sleep up in that crowded bunk that contained so much literature...  She found it, sat back against her pillow and opened it up to where she last left off.  She couldn't concentrate!  She was too excited!

Back to the pile did she place her book, and down the ladder to the floor she climbed.  She sneaked into the hall and stood by the banister for the stairs, listening desperately for sounds of life-- well, namely, awakened life.  What was that?  She heard someone in the kitchen!  Her heart leaped, and she slowly tiptoed down the old, creaky wooden stairs.

Each stair made it's own distinct crrrreeeeeaaaak as it was pressed, signaling the arrival of the little girl on the first floor of the historic farmhouse.  The person awake appeared at the bottom of the stairs just as the little girl was about three steps away.  It was her daddy!

"Good morning,"  whispered his warm, kind voice.

The little girl grinned widely, revealing a set of overcrowded teeth, and giggled slightly, "Good morning, Daddy!"  Her long brown hair cascaded in various knots over the shoulders of her silky, pink nightgown.

Her daddy scooped her up in a big hug as they exchanged whispered, "Merry Christmas"s then proceeded to lead her by the hand to the kitchen.  "Don't look in the dining room!" he playfully warned. But he didn't have to tell the little girl twice-- she knew that in the dining room were the presents-- and she wanted to be surprised.

She could already begin to smell the beginnings of the canned cinnamon rolls-- a rare treat, and a tradition that would last up until this very day.  The kitchen was dark, but warm and cozy.  As she sat at the bar, her daddy poured her a steaming mug of hot chocolate.  She shivered in the drafty kitchen, but the hot chocolate was good.  Mmmm... it was good.  "Thank you, Daddy."  There was that overcrowded grin again.

~~~~~~~~~

  You may have already guessed, but yes, the little girl in my little story was indeed me.  This is a memory that I pray that I will never forget-- it is the epitome of life.  The whole story is a lesson to me.  

What is the lesson that I am presenting here?  I remember my daddy, up before the crack of dawn, and how he nurtured his relationship with me.  I remember his mischievous attitude, and his servant's heart,  how he was on top of making everyone's breakfast (how did he know that I would be up so early?).  He made me hot chocolate.  

Reminds me of Russel in Pixar's Up, "Sometimes it's the little stuff that matters most..."  

Yes.  You may have thought that I have been elaborating on this point entirely to much recently, but it is such an important lesson to learn-- especially in light of Christmas.  

I don't remember any of my presents that year.  Frankly, I don't remember really anything else about that year's Christmas.  It's all about our relationships, how we nurture them-- through the little stuff.  My brothers and sisters love it when I give them gifts-- but I think they may even like it even better when I read aloud to them, or let them help me bake cookies in the kitchen.  The other day, I made a pot of coffee while I was busy working on the computer.  The coffee had been ready for a while, but I hadn't had any time yet to get up and prepare it.  My fourteen year old sister, Melody, came and placed a fully dressed cup on my desk.  I looked up and my heart melted.  I didn't ask her to do that-- it meant more to me than any gift that anyone had given me in a long time.  

What does this have to do with Christmas-- apart from my story?  God could have sent Jesus down in a whirlwind.  He could have appeared on a white horse, terrific, and awesome.  God didn't have to send Jesus as a tiny, helpless baby.  But He chose a tiny thing to conquer the big.  He chose a foolish thing to shame the wise.  He sent Himself as a baby-- a little thing that would change history, and conquer death, and pave the way for mankind to once again be in right relationship with the Father.

"Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

~Luke 2:11-12

"For to us a child is born,

    to us a son is given,

    and the government will be on his shoulders.

And he will be called

    Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."

~Isaiah 9:6

Embrace the little things.  You never know what they may become.

Merry Christmas to my lovely readers- all the best from our family, in the name of our Lord Jesus- King of the Universe!

The Joyful Family: A Lesson in Contentment {part two}

My dear readers, please forgive my prolonged absence from this little blog as I promised you all a sequel to my previous post!  I apologize for leaving you hanging :-)

If you have not yet read my previous post you can do so by clicking here.

Now, as you all probably already know, I have a large family.  I am the eldest of soon to be 10 children.  One of my favorite things that people ask me about living in a large family is the question, "So, you guys must have a pretty big house, huh?"  When people say this I nearly fall on the floor laughing.  The irony.

Our home is 1800 square feet.  Make of it what you will.  Some people would consider that average, some would consider it small, some would even consider it large.  But in America's culture, a family of 12 living in 1800 square feet is pretty squeezy. We've been living in this house for 7 years, since there were only 6 of us children.  We originally intended on only living here for a year or so--5 maximum-- but God had other plans.

When I read the story in my previous post, my thoughts immediately went to our house.  The family in the story was so joyful, so content, that they did not even consider that they might be the poor family that the pastor was talking about.  The three forks that they shared were enough.  They weren't poor, they had enough.

It was because of this contentment that they were able to joyfully give.  They didn't see that they were in need.  They knew God would continue to sustain them with enough as they saved money to help others in need.

As the story continues, the family is broken when they realize that the church had recognized them as poor and in need.  They were ashamed.  What broke this shame and gave them joy again?  When they surrendered all that cash over to the missionary to help fund the building of roofs in a foreign country.  They gave all the excess that they had, believing that their daily bread was enough.

Wouldn't you, if you were in that family, have been grateful for the money and sometime that week before Sunday, at least gone and gotten a couple more forks so that everyone could have one at suppertime?   No, the family was mortified.  Why do you think this was?  Do you think it was because they were afraid that they had given the appearance of discontentment?  They didn't want to show up at school or even church because they knew everyone there knew that they were poor.  How come they didn't know or realize it before?  They weren't ashamed until they were compared with the world's standards of richness and found to be poor.

This is the problem.  We define richness and poverty based on the world's economy.  When we are caught up in looking at the world around us, what other people have, what other people think of us, how we should dress and act, all according to the world's standards, we are going to find ourselves majorly discontent.  For two reasons:

1.) "Sheol and Abaddon are never satisfied, nor are the eyes of man ever satisfied." (Proverbs 27:20)  You will never have enough.  You can be the richest man or woman on the planet and still never be satisfied with all of your wealth.  You can have the biggest house, nicest car, most expensive clothes and still be miserable and discontent.  Because there will always be something else that you want, there will always be something new to covet.  This is the common state of man; sinful, always desiring more.  When we are without Christ, our eyes, hearts, minds, will never be satisfied-- greed will take over, always taking, but nothing is ever enough.

2.) And He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9a) As humans, we all crave sufficiency, satisfaction, contentment--we are sinful creatures; broken, longing to be whole again. God ingrained this desire so that we might seek Him to find it-- because in Him is the only place that it might be found.  The only place.  God's grace is sufficient.   It's enough. When we receive God's grace, repent of our sinful ways and surrender our lives to Him, He promises to watch over us, to never leave us or forsake us.  This is the essence of contentment, to be found in Jesus, trusting in Him.  The world will pull us away from Jesus, away from trusting in His provision.  Teasing us with, "What about this?  Or this?  What will you do if this happens?"  Borrowing trouble, and causing anxiety instead of just resting and being still in the fact that God is enough.

The world tells me that an 1800 square foot home is too small for a family our size.  God tells me that it's enough.  It's what He has given us, now how are we going to be joyful and use it to His glory?

In God's economy, I am rich.  If I only had Jesus; if I lived under a bridge, I would still be rich.
His grace is enough.

"Therefore if you have been raised up with Christ, keep seeking the things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth."

Colossians 3:1-2

The Joyful Family: A Lesson in Contentment {part one}

It had been a long morning; I had been up since 3:30am baking bread for the farmer's market that was to take place later that day.  Exhausted and needing a break from swirling cinnamon into whole wheat,  I sunk into the lazyboy sitting next to the family computer desk and grabbed the wireless mouse.  My sister's blogger account was up, so I proceeded to browse the latest posts.  I clicked on one, and there I read a story that nearly made me cry...

It was a story that had been shared by a friend of mine, Michael Schroeder, on his blog.  I was so blessed by this story, so encouraged and challenged, that I wanted to share it with you all.

There were several children in the family, but the father had died, and they lost their main source of income.  Yet, they were always joyful.  They lived in a small house, and did not have much, but what they did have, they appreciated.  There were only three forks to split amongst seven people, so they made it a game to see who would get a fork each night.  One Sunday at church, the pastor announced that the church would be collecting money for a poor family in the congregation.  The pastor told the congregation to be generous and sacrificial since this family really needed their help.
  When the family left the church, they talked over what they could do to help the family.  They did not have a lot of money, but perhaps if they cut their food bill, and only had potatoes for supper for the next month, and did not use lights at night, or listen to the radio, to save money on electricity, they could donate the saved money to the poor family.  That month was one of the happiest times the family had.  They kept thinking of ways to get more money for the poor family, and imagining how excited the family would be to receive it.  The Sunday the money was to be given to the poor family, this family walked to church, singing and talking excitedly.  It was raining, but they hardly noticed.  Joyfully, they put the money in the offering plate.  They had saved 80 dollars.
            At home, when they were talking, the doorbell rang...

Click here to visit Michael's blog and read the rest!

What did you think?  There are a couple different aspects of this story that teach a couple different lessons-- feel free to comment, I would love to hear your perspective...

Coming up, I am hoping to comment what I learned and took away from this story in a later post-- so stay tuned!  ;-)

Turn Around Slowly

I want to begin by dedicating with post to a dear friend of our family who passed away last Tuesday morning into glory, the presence of his dear and beloved Savior.

~~~~~~~~~

  

As I go through life I tend to catch myself in discontentment.  Not major, down-in-the-dumps, miserable depression, but moments of "If things were this way...."   These snapshot thoughts of mine go against my hopeful romance.  They are my fleshly reaction when things aren't the way I want things to be.

When my sister, Abigail, was born, I remember holding her, delighting in her new life.  I stroked her tiny, soft hands, kissed her tender cheeks, stroked the silky head, but yet there was a fleeting thought, "I wish she could smile at me..." 

 My little brother, John-David.  I was almost 7 when he was born.  For the longest time, I filled the "firstborn son" role.  Yep, if Daddy was away I took out the garbage, I killed any unwanted pests that came into the house, I did any heavy lifting, etc, etc, etc.  As I looked at the happy, giggling 2-year-old with a pack of fruit snacks in one hand, sippy cup in the other, I longed, sometimes even laughingly, "Can you grow up a little faster?"

I always wanted an older brother.  My mom miscarried hers and my dad's first baby, the one right before me.  He would have been 20 now.  All my life, "Lord, why?  Didn't You know how much I wanted an older sibling?"  Even though I knew that it couldn't be undone.

God has a distinct and specific purpose for everything.

These thoughts, though they seemed fleeting and innocent at the time, are deadly.  They wreak havoc in the mind, open the door for major discontentment, which ultimately leads to depression.  But it's a slow, steady process of allowing those tiny thoughts to perpetrate my mind.

This is a video that I made for my dad as a father's day gift 3.5 years ago.

This song, Turn Around Slowly teaches a simple truth.  The truth of that hopeful romance that I was talking so much about in my last post.

Live in this moment.

Love in this moment.

Thank God for this moment.

  It's so easy for me to get caught up in how things could be.  "What would my life be like if...?"  Or to dream about what might be coming next.   "When I get married...", "When I have kids...", "When we record a CD..."  

Where is my gratitude?  Where is my contentment?  Where is my perspective? 

  God has given me each of these moments as a gift.  Every breath that I take is ordained by Him.  He knows me, knows my heart, knows what's best for me.  When I am living in this truth, it helps me to "see" like a child again.

"She said, 'Look at me, Daddy, and love me this moment

this moment is all that we have...'"

 Abigail is almost 6 years old now.  She no longer has those tiny baby hands and silky baby fuzz on her head.  That moment went by so quickly!  But what do I have in this moment?  Her smile. Is nearly contagious, revealing that adorable tiny dimple on one side.  

John-David is 12 now.  No longer a giggly toddler, toting snacks and juice, but a boy quickly maturing to manhood before my very eyes.  Where did the time go?

My older brother, in heaven.  I later realized that if he had been born, I wouldn't have been.  Our pregnancies were too close together for it to have been possible for both of us to have been born.  He died, I lived.

"Turn around slowly, treasure your days here.

These precious moments may come to be rare..."

  I would like to take a moment to tell you about the man to whom I dedicated this post.

  About a year ago, a family in our church bought a piece of property that had a house on it with an attached apartment for the reasons of having the father's parents living with them.  The grandfather had Alzheimer's, and it was difficult for him to do anything for himself. He could barely communicate verbally.  

  This grandfather was a godly man.  He and his wife loved each other dearly.  They invested heavily into their children, the grandfather taught his son amazing wood-working skills, work ethic, and most importantly, a love for God.  It was this love for God that kindled within the son the obedience to honor his father and mother, by caring for them in their old age-- even though it was difficult.  

Every week at church, we would watch the father and son interact.  It was hard to watch the decline in the father's health.  But he always had a smile on his face-- almost every time I saw him, he had a huge grin on his face that just lit up the room.  When I would greet him on Sunday mornings, the love that spilled from his face touched my heart.  

When we pray for someone with Alzheimer's, what do we hope will happen?  That they will be healed and back to their "normal" selves?

Don't despise the moment.  Don't despise that beautiful smile.  I know his son longed to hear his father's voice, at least say his name, once more.  But as he watched his father tap his foot to the rhythm of the music that he and his children played one night, he knew he couldn't look back and miss this precious moment.  We all smiled and laughed when the grandfather noticed that one of the dads in the church had missed a belt loop.  The way he would waved and smile at my baby brother warmed my heart.  These moments were precious, and they have now come to be rare.  Yes, how we would have praised God for his healing, but now we praise God for those precious memories.  Those beautiful, smiling eyes, "Love me this moment..."

Don't live for what could be.  Don't spend your life allowing those seemingly innocent thoughts of "what if" to flit about your heart.  Live in this moment.  Love in this moment.  It is a gift from the Lord-- cherish it.  These precious moments may come to be rare...

Hopeless Romance?

I have been accused of being... shall we say, a bit dramatic.

When I love something, I love it and want everyone else to love it too.  When I see something beautiful, I want all to see it and enjoy it with me.  When I experience something amazing, I want the whole world to share in my joy.

A lot of people don't see things the same way I do.

Something that I love, that I have found to be beautiful, doesn't always excite the person I am trying to desperately to share with.

I am a hopeless romantic.

I remember the last autumn that we spent living up north, we had a huge maple tree in our back yard.  This tree was massive, the trunk probably had a circumference of 9 feet.  In the fall, the leaves would turn all shades of yellow, orange, and red-- a canopy over the entirety of our picket-fenced backyard.  I remember, I believe I was 10 at the time, standing in our driveway staring at the tree which rose up a good 5-6 stories tall.  I remember reverence, awe, and utter enjoyment.  What majesty! I had lived in that house for 5 years, I had seen autumn, I had seen the tree turn colors before-- but my breath (not to mention my heart) was stolen away in that singular moment.  I just pointed it out to my mom and dad, "Look, isn't it pretty?"  

I've always been this way, and generally my parents attributed my drama and hopeless romance it to my reading too many books. I can see this-- it's probably true.  Over the years I have gotten more and more practical, and less and less romantic.  Why?  Because I felt dumb when I would get excited over the smell of the crisp spring air, or seeing the intricacies of snowflakes for the first time, trying to get everyone else to "see", but being disappointed when they shrug and act as if it's all normal.

Sure, it's all normal.

I know that, I was just in an imaginary world for a second.  Pardon my drama... again.

I think that this apathy, this nonchalance is a direct attack from the enemy, satan.  He hates hopeless romantics, why?

 I believe that there is true value in being a hopeless romantic.... actually I would change that term, I'm going to now call myself a hopeful romantic.  This is the epitome of what satan hates so much. And I'll tell you why.

Hopeful romance is the essence of the child-like faith that Jesus alluded to in Luke 18:

15 And they were bringing even their babies to Him so that He would touch them, but when the disciples saw it, they began rebuking them. 16 But Jesus called for them, saying, “Permit the children to come to Me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. 17 Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all.”

What are some of the attributes of children?  Excitement.  Creativity.  Simplicity.  Wonder.  Carefree.

My little 3-year-old sister will bound into the kitchen while I'm doing dishes and thrust a weed, little yellow flower on one end, dirt shaking onto the floor from the roots left on the other end, into my face, "Look, Amy!  This is for you!"  I gasp, smile, "Oh, thank you!  You're so sweet!" I take the weed and carefully place it in a little teacup of water as a vase.  My sister's grin widens, her eyes disappear into her rosy cheeks as she struts out of the kitchen feeling like a million bucks.

"From the mouth of infants and nursing babes You have established strength..."

~Psalm 8:2a

A hopeless cynic sees that weed as nothing but what it is, a weed.  A hopeful romantic sees that weed for what it really is, a gesture of love.  Being able to "see" like a child, to see the beauty of a weed as a flower, to take it as a token of affection from another child, is the epitome of hopeful romance.

So, what makes this romance hopeful instead of hopeless, and how can one see any sort of romance in a world so saturated with sin?  Asks the cynic.

My romance goes back to the cross. (Eph 5:25)  Jesus loves me, I was bought with a price. (1 Cor. 6:20)  He died that I might live. (John 3:16)  I once was dead in my sin, naked, squirming in my blood. He came along, "Live!" He breathed. (Eze 16:4-6) He picked me up, washed me, clothed me, adorned me.

I was once dead, I am now alive.

I was lost, now I'm found.

I was blind, now I see.

I've been reading a book called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.  In this book, she writes about her journey in how she learned to go from blindness to sight, how she learned to live in the moment, to enjoy it as a gift from God, instead of merely a transition into the next moment.  She began numbering her blessings, gifts from God, some that only she could see.  Like the way that the sun poured in through her kitchen window on a mound of grated cheese.  Who sees beauty in that?  She did, because the Lord knew her, that she would appreciate it.  He loves her, and gifts her according to what he knows that she will love.

 "If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!"

~Matthew 7:11

God loves me, and I love Him.  Ours is a relationship of hopeful romance.  I have hope in Jesus, that I will have eternal life.  I am His Bride, He woos me and showers me with blessings of His love, if only I have eyes to see them.

It comes in the forms of breathtaking color on the black arms of a gigantic maple.

The intricacies of snowflakes.

The sound of baby feet on the hardwood.

The smell of coffee early in the morning.

The scratches on the dining room floor.

The yeasty smell of bread dough on Famer's Market day.

That blissful feeling of that singular peace, that surpasses all understanding.

That, my friend, is why satan hates hopeless romantics.  Because they see the beauty in the tiny gifts that God gives, they enjoy them as gifts.  They revel in the joy and excitement of their Maker.  They are intoxicated by His love, it is displayed everywhere around them.  They can't help but want to praise Him for what He has done.  He loves them, and they see it everywhere.

May we ever live our lives looking for the gifts of God.  Yes, sin permeates the world.  It is grieving, and there is a time for that.  But as a general rule, the Lord has done so much for us, it is ours to thank Him, to enjoy Him, and to ultimately glorify Him and make His name known.

"When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,

The moon and the stars, which You have ordained;

 What is man that You take thought of him,

And the son of man that You care for him?"

~Psalm 8:3-4

"How precious are your thoughts to me, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!"

~Psalm 139:17

"Through Him then, let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that give thanks to His name."

~Hebrews 13:15

"That I may proclaim with the voice of thanksgiving

And declare all Your wonders."

~Psalm 26:7

"...this is eternal life"

"For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."

{John 3:16}

“This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.”

{John 17:3}

Love is always seen as the greatest thing- the highest aspiration. Even in the world. Look anywhere in the media, you see love conquering all; money means nothing, position means nothing, stuff means nothing. Love is what everybody wants- both emotional and physical. This is where so many young people get into trouble. They go looking for the fulfillment of this longing in all the wrong places.

Jesus is the answer to this longing for love- we have that void in our hearts because He wants us to seek after Him and to desire His love for us. When we repent of our sins and ask for His forgiveness He gives us eternal life, which is what? That we may know Him. The word “know” here is the same as earlier in the Bible when is says that “Adam ‘knew’ his wife” (Genesis 4:1) which would indicate an intimate physical relationship. The Lord promises to fulfill our every desire. He is everything that we need both in the spiritual, emotional, and even physical sense.

This intimate relationship causes us to have a sense of non-negotiable commitment, as though we are “married” to the Lord and His Word. When an atheist comes up to us and tries to pin us to a wall with a “scientific” fact that disproves the existence of God, if we are not thoroughly grounded in the Word, and do not understand an intimate relationship with Him, it would be easy to falter; to doubt and to question His existence. But when we recall His love, all that He has done for us, remind ourselves of His promises; when we can see evidence of His intimacy in our lives, how can we doubt?

I know that I am in this for life; I am His beloved and He is mine- and His banner over me is love!