Back to School Tool #1: Stationery

God in heaven knows how much I love school supplies. It's possibly the only fun part of going back to school. That, and new fall clothes (wishing I was still a student somehow). So while we are in the midst of buying new backpacks and closed-toed shoes for our kids, I thought I'd share some less traditional Back-to-School Tools with you that I have in my arsenal - ones you may not have considered before.

Tool #1: the cute stationery you never use (because who relies on snail mail anymore)

Let me explain. A few years back, one of my kids had a teacher that I was not loving. I didn't know her prior to that year. But within the first week, I had had an earful of her complaining and whining over everything. She had a very negative attitude, and would even ramble about personal problems to the volunteer mothers during class time and play the victim in some unfolding drama in her mind. As if I needed another person complaining and whining in my life, next I had other parents gossipping about her to me. Even though I knew I didn't want to gossip or jump on the complain-train myself, I grew increasingly nervous about the quality of teaching that was taking place and started to feel mom panic. If you're a mom, you know what that is.

I confided in a friend who has no connection to our area and she gave me some of the best advice I've ever received. Basically, it boiled down to "love your enemies." But with stationery.

My friend is quite the card writer. I'm sure she, personally, is helping to keep the USPS alive and well. She suggested that I do what she does. She has kids older than I do, and so has had more hard-to-love teacher experiences. During the most difficult year, her strategy became writing the teacher notes of encouragement. WEEKLY. She shared how shocked other moms were when, at the end of the year, this icy, old crag of a woman whom her son had as a teacher threw her arms around my friend's neck in a big hug.

UGH. I thought, thinking of my own situation, "What in the world would I write to this woman? I can't think of anything she is doing right to encourage...." So I started simply. It went something like this:

Dear Mrs. __________,
I just wanted to send you a note of thanks for the hard work you are putting in daily to know and nurture each of the children in your class. It must not be easy to start off a year with a whole new bunch! I'm sure I'd have no idea how to manage that many kids, much less teach them well. I look forward to helping in the class, and please let me know how I can best help. __________'s favorite thing to do so far has been the art. It's going to be a great year.
Sincerely....

You get the idea. I'm not sure I maintained a weekly note delivery, but I can promise you this: I wrote her notes until my heart changed. Until I began to see her as a fellow flawed human being, not simply for what she could give to my family. I began to observe that the gossipping moms saw the teacher as merely a tool for gaining something. She wasn't a person to them; And I'm ashamed to say that she wasn't to me, at first, either. And after my heart changed, I kept writing those notes, but for different reason: I truly cared about her.

Think of the numbers of complaints teachers much get each year. Now think of the numbers of notes of encouragement they receive when it's not a holiday or teacher appreciation week when everyone does so out of etiquette. Maybe zero. And that person is likely spending more hours with your child than you are! Isn't that fact alone a reason to extravagantly LOVE on them?

So my whole perspective on my treatment of teachers has changed because of that small bit of advice. Now, whether I like them or not, I write teachers notes. Lots of notes, to all my kids' teachers, regularly, throughout the year. Sometimes the notes have baked goods attached. Or Sharpies. Or nothing. Or whatever I have around the house when I feel inspired to bless them.

When my own complaining spirit starts to build, I write a note. When it's a challenging week of testing, or she's being evaluated, or I know she's under extra stress, I write a note. I use empathy, and make an effort to see her as a person with a life outside of school. She's probably a mother. You can even ask about her own kids. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I acknowledge her world does not revolve around my child, nor should it.

It was altering once I decided that my child can survive an imperfect year, and I will be mom enough to help him/her navigate any social or academic turbulence. I say "decided" and not "realized" because it took an act of my will to remove inappropriate expectations from the teacher and put some more on myself as the parent. I want to communicate to teachers that I see us as a team.

Teachers can often be seen as enemies, by parents and children alike. I say this year, love your enemies. Model love for your kids, even if you also let them see your disappointment in a teacher (the demonstrated love will be all the more powerful, won't it?). If your child gets an unfair grade or gets overlooked in some way by that teacher, handle it in truth, but with grace and mercy. Remember that they will know we are Christians by our love (John 13:35).   

I'm putting my cute stationery to good use, starting on day 1 of school. Instead of sizing up the person in charge of schooling my kid for the next 9 months, I will give him/her the message that we are in this together and I'm grateful to have the help.

In this weary world, a person just can't have too much encouragement.

linking up with my girl Jami today!

Why I'm not sold on 7 year olds in big church

Last week, the Sunday School wing of our church went under construction. Our leadership decided that meanwhile, we'd all "do church together," kids (over 5) and adults combined for 5 weekends. In theory, it sounded like a great idea. How fun to worship God as a family, all together!

Turns out, it wasn't quite as touching as I'd imagined.

I did, however learn the practical difference between a 10 year old and a 7 year old. One can sit quietly for 75 minutes and one cannot. I also realized what a beautiful thing children's ministry is. If you have ever volunteered to serve in children's ministry, thank you. Serious. Thank you from the depth of this mommy's heart, not only for helping to meet my needs, but for helping to meet those of my children on their level. I want to bake you people little mason jar pies.

My Sunday morning in church usually looks like this. I sing my heart out to the Lord for twenty minutes or so, I chuckle through the announcements, maybe more singing, and then I get to absorb some excellent teaching from God's word. Then I go pick up my kids in Sunday School and we haggle over whether or not it's a donut day.

Today, within one minute of the music starting, I was digging for crayons. Then I was picking up all the papers that fell into the crack between the seats. Then, I got persuaded into holding my son, who is nearly 60 pounds, in my arms while I tried to sing, since the look on his face said that he was sincerely suffering for having to be with the boring grown ups.

When I couldn't hold him anymore, I got to listen to him tirelessly complain of boredom and crawl his entire body up into his chair in thirteen different ways. That was just the first ten of the 75 minute service.

What started out to be a bit stressful for me (ie. 7 year olds in big church) started becoming pretty funny. Next, he started drawing. First it was our wiener dog. Then Star Wars vehicles. There I was, trying to worship, and my son was yelling (so that I could hear him over the loud music, of course), "MOM! Look at my AT-AT and my land speeder!"

But the kicker was still to come. Our church observes communion once a month. When we walked in and I saw the tables set with candles, cups of grape juice and the matzo crackers, I decided this would be a good teachable moment (you know how I like those). My daughter has been in big church with us before and has participated in communion, but my son had not. So I resolved to walk him through the symbolism once the pastor stopped talking. But he hadn't yet finished explaining the first communion at the Last Supper. As our pastor quoted the traditional passage of Scripture where Jesus explains how the cup is a symbol of his blood poured out for us, I saw that clearly, a light had gone on in my son's head. Perhaps he is remembering something deeply spiritual I've taught him, I thought. With a big smile, he turned to me and said loudly, "That's just like in Indiana Jones!"

Okay. He's sitting there thinking of how Indy had to choose which cup was the real holy grail and I'm planning on describing the symbolism of communion. A for effort? In case you're wondering, we don't watch the part of the movie where the bad guy melts for choosing poorly. I'm sure I made parts of that movie a "teachable moment" too, which explains why I was in this Sunday morning debacle in the first place.

The way our church observes communion is that during the quiet music, we are permitted to get up and file past the table, taking a cracker, dipping it in the grape juice, and moving on. My husband and I have a tradition of then stepping aside to pray together and take our crackers in unison. We attempted this with the kids. But mini-Jones refused to eat his. "I don't like grape juice," he protested. I replied very matter of factly, "Well, I actually hate grape juice but I eat it anyways because it's a symbol of something important and it honors the Lord." Still, the cracker was a no-go.

The music then turned into singing time again, as everyone went back to their seats. Several minutes later, I glanced over to see my son, cracker still pinched in his fingers, very cautiously sniffing it. This went on for a few minutes, the sniffing of the cracker wet with juice. Next, I saw the very tip of his tongue extend and graze the cracker like it was a live bomb, which resulted in him twisting up his face into the funniest expression of disgust I've ever seen him make. There I was, trying to worship, and I was left giggling instead. I couldn't stop. It was too funny. I flopped my upturned palm next to him and said, "Give me the cracker." Like a mother, I ate it.

Moral of the story: 7 year olds are really, really great in Sunday School. They sing, crawl around, talk loud, draw wiener dogs, and most importantly learn about Jesus, all on their level.

Moral of the story, Part 2: I thought, for a minute, that my worship was being interrupted. Instead, mothering was a very true form of worship I offered to God this morning. I almost forgot.

My final thoughts are that Jesus has a really good sense of humor. I think he wants us to lighten up in church sometimes. If yours needs some of that, just invite the kids in. These next few weekends are going to be interesting.

And maybe just the refreshment we, as a body of believers, need.

I'll leave you with Legoland's rendition of Indy and the mini-Jones,
who threatens to never eat the cracker.

Food, fads, and the Bible

To be honest, I have not historically thought much about food. It's not a vice of mine, nor is it a passion of mine. It's simply food. We need it, I like it fine, and it helps us thrive. Sometimes I like cooking, sometimes I don't. Sometimes we eat healthy, sometimes we don't.

I've seen the ways in which some people idolize food, whether excess becomes a god, or self-denial. Eating a whole package of Oreos is the same as obsessing over NOT EVER EATING A SINGLE OREO because you think they're of the devil. Both of those perspectives move God off of His throne in a person's life.

So I'm sure you can guess that I've never subscribed to a fad diet, or read any of the bandwagon food books. I'm not saying I'm against either of those things. I'm saying I have simply never cared that much. But a few years ago, one of my wisest friends told me about two books she read on food that were based on what God's Word had to say. Now there was a perspective on food in which I was interested and about which I knew I could learn more.

So I bought them. I first read Holy Cow: Does God Care About What We Eat, written by a Messianic Jewish woman and a Rabbi. Totally fascinating (and convicting: in her testimony, one reason the author says she hesitates to believe in the God of the New Testament is because the Christians she knows seem to dismiss the God of the Old Testament). It made me consider caring more about what we ate; if God cared, then shouldn't I? Then, I read What the Bible Says About Healthy Living which covers overall health, not just food).

Again, since I am not one to buy into a whole new program, I picked and chose from these two books what I felt were simple, healthy adaptations to mine and my kids' current diets based on some very convincing arguments in terms of what the Bible says is best for us. (On a side note, I was shocked at the number of relevant, instructive passages of Scripture that deal with food that I'd never really valued in the past. Is it just poetry that God describes the "promised land" as rich with milk and honey? Or are milk and honey perhaps so beneficial that they were a prized part of His blessings for the Israelites when they got there? In retrospect, I guess I'd never used the Bible as a tool for understanding my physical needs, only my spiritual and emotional ones. Interesting, isn't it?)

Here's an example of a change we made. Technically, we don't eat pork. I don't buy it, and I don't choose to order it. But if my son's breakfast sandwich has a piece of bacon on it, I don't make him throw it away. And if we are guests in a friend's home who makes a delicious pork stew, we all give thanks for it and dig in (love you, Erin :). And if my husband thinks the pork stew is the greatest meal ever, because I love him more than I love a guideline, I cook it for Father's Day. That way, God is still on His throne in my heart because I believe He'd place relationship, love, and friendship above a guideline. In Matthew chapter 23, Jesus comes down hard on the religious leaders for focusing so much on rules and regulations that they missed the basic matters of the heart. That chapter contains some of the harshest language we ever see Jesus use in the Bible.

I read these two books about five years ago, and since then, I've maintained our adaptations, but stopped continuing to think about food. 

Well, I'm thinking about it now. A lot. This time, I'm ruminating on my family's over dependence on protein, specifically animal protein. I'm not going to buy into a whole new program (mainly because my interpretation of Scripture includes allowance for meat in our diets, and perhaps because I have an undying love for cheese). But the fact is that my family could eat more veggies. We could try new grains. I'm saying a proactive "yes" just to those two simple statements right now, because I could become more educated and practiced at preparing these foods.

Yesterday I bought a bag of pearled barley. I have zero idea what to do with it, but I like a good creative challenge. Also in my cart was our second carton of almond milk. What a shocker, it's actually really good. So I'm experimenting, and trying really hard to expand my horizons in the area of healthier food, for myself and my family. 

If you have any ideas for me, I'm open, but go easy on me.

That special place in my heart for a Sonic Cherry Limeade is not getting taken over by quinoa anytime soon.

One reason to discipline without guilt

 

This guy is giving me a run for my money lately.

He has a really big personality. Very imaginative. Even more talkative.

This picture is just what you think it is. He took a brown marker and drew hairs on his chest. Then, he posed like that. Then, he said "Put it on your blog." I'm not sure which part of that sequence of events I should be most worried about. (Perhaps the fact that I'm doing it.)

One thing I do know is that he keeps me laughing, every single day. Well, except the days when the wildness stops being funny and starts being disobedient and disrespectful.

That was our day last Monday. And also last Tuesday. Oh, also, Wednesday. It stunk, which isn't the word I wanted to use right there. I had to continue to discipline him and experience the ugly fallout for three days. My husband can attest: I was not a happy mommy.

But I was aware of one thing during the chaos and the emotion. This is a teachable moment. I knew my son needed to learn that he has a choice. He can live under my discipline, or under my blessing. The results of his choices in my home under my authority should be a reflection of the results of his choices He will one day make as a man under God. And the way I handle his rebellion should reflect the way God handles us when we decide to play by our rules instead of His.  

Last week, I kept thinking of this passage in the Old Testament. It is such an important passage. Here, God is sharing the terms of the covenant He is making, through Moses, to the Israelites. This portion is the summary of the covenant. It's the bottom line. I love it, probably because there are zero shades of grey. It's crystal clear. Deuteronomy 30:11-20 says,

This command I am giving you today is not too difficult for you to understand, and it is not beyond your reach. It is not kept in heaven, so distant that you must ask, ‘Who will go up to heaven and bring it down so we can hear it and obey?’ It is not kept beyond the sea, so far away that you must ask, ‘Who will cross the sea to bring it to us so we can hear it and obey?’ No, the message is very close at hand; it is on your lips and in your heart so that you can obey it.

Now listen! Today I am giving you a choice between life and death, between prosperity and disaster. For I command you this day to love the Lord your God and to keep his commands, decrees, and regulations by walking in his ways. If you do this, you will live and multiply, and the Lord your God will bless you and the land you are about to enter and occupy.

But if your heart turns away and you refuse to listen, and if you are drawn away to serve and worship other gods, then I warn you now that you will certainly be destroyed. You will not live a long, good life in the land you are crossing the Jordan to occupy. “Today I have given you the choice between life and death, between blessings and curses. Now I call on heaven and earth to witness the choice you make. Oh, that you would choose life, so that you and your descendants might live! You can make this choice by loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and committing yourself firmly to him. This is the key to your life. And if you love and obey the Lord, you will live long in the land the Lord swore to give your ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.”

I kept thinking of this concept, living under God's blessing or under consequence. (We all know what both feel like, don't we? We know the reality of these truths all too well.) Now, obviously, I'm not cursing my son for disobeying. But I am disciplining him in love. And he is not a fan. He doesn't quite get the love part as he sits in his room thinking I'm the meanest mother in the world.

The point is that he was living under unpleasant consequence (in his room, no privileges, missing out on fun things) as long as he dug his heels into that disobedient spirit. And that is a good thing. Though it sometimes kills me to see him pained by missing out on some activity, and though I can feel so disappointed when things don't go the way I expected, in my opinion, those tough decisions reflect God's loving discipline of us. 

When talking to him, I used some of the language from this passage. I was offering him a choice. Disobedience was getting him discipline, and no one was liking that. I made sure he knew that I do not enjoy disciplining him, but that it is my God-given job. However, if he obeyed me, he would be able live under my blessings once again. And by that, I mean my pleasure in him. Our relationship could be a blessing again. And I would be more willing to say "yes" to fun activities also. I was communicating all this lovingly to him, hoping he'd soften up and yield. Hoping he'd choose blessings. But as you know, the human heart is stubborn and full of pride. Mine and yours and his. It took until Thursday for him to yield to me consistently.

Thursday night, making sure my husband was in the room, I took the opportunity to PRAISE THE SOCKS OFF my son for being obedient and respectful to me all day. I noted each thing I could recall that he did right. I commended each chore, and each time he offered to help me. I praised him for choosing a happy heart when asked to do something. He was absolutely beaming. He flung himself into bed so full of joy, the clear byproduct of living under blessing.

"Finally," he said. "Finally, you can say good things about me!" He was proud of himself. Oh, how I gushed about how pleased I was to praise him. Oh, how I hugged him and noted how much better it was for both of us when he chooses obedience. Yes, I hugged him on Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday too. But it felt different. Our relationship was muddled with sin. I had grace for him, and still loved him, of course. But his sin was causing us both pain. It was not until after he turned from his rebellious ways and chose obedience that our relationship was a blessing once again. Like ten-fold.

This whole process is familiar, isn't it? A parable of our stories, between our Father and us.

A prodigal running home is cause for blessing and celebration indeed.  As I reflect over last week, I think we were all reminded of something very important. We are all stubborn and sinful and selfish sometimes. We dig our heels in.

Except, God loves us too much to let us stay that way. 

My child, don’t reject the Lord’s discipline,

and don’t be upset when he corrects you.

For the Lord corrects those he loves,

just as a father corrects a child in whom he delights.

Proverbs 3:11-12 

For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.

Hebrews 12:11

  

Grace on a Thursday: the Dog Days of Summer

It happens to me every year.

I miss my kids so much during the school year that by Easter, I'm dying to get them all to myself. The last few weeks of the semester seem to drag on so slowly. And when summer does finally arrive, I am so happy.

We always start strong, what with my zillion ideas that have been waiting for them to be released back into my full-time care. But by week two or three, I start to feel burnt out.

This summer is no exception. I realized about three weeks in that I had NOT ONCE given any planning or forethought to providing for myself and my sanity once summer started. I was full-throttle Super Mom. And I can do that job fairly well. For about three weeks. But that window is gone and now I need grace. Super Mom has changed into less attractive Running-On-Empty mom

So that's where I am, friends. Summer-worn. The "dog days" of summer are typically when the heat is so heavy and the summer is nearly spent that one yearns for falling leaves and a cool breeze. But I've decided my dog days are right now, in the thick of it. Summer's end is not in sight yet, nor do I want it to be. But I can tell: the kids and I are starting to get a little tired of being around one another every day, all day long. I'm irritable. They are bored. Which irriates me since they shouldn't be bored. You get the picture.



Because I'm an extrovert, I don't pine away for time alone, and I don't melt down if I don't get much. I'm pretty happy being around my husband and kids 95% of the time. It's the expectations I put on myself for how that time is spent that starts to wear on me. I get focused on being productive, at least in some way, every day, and I have low patience for things that waste my time. I don't mean productive in a work sort of way; I'm not doing housework all the time. I consider even reading to them productive. We just don't sit around with a lot of do-whatever-you-want time. Once in a while, I take the whole being intentional parenting concept a little too far. 
 
And it's not only that. I am also worn by the sheer noise of three in a house all day long. I'm worn by the meal prep and clean up so many times a day. And I'm worn by how everything seems to stay messy, no matter how often I'm picking up (or asking nagging them to do so).

For these reasons and more, tonight, I'm needing grace. I need an atitude lift and a second wind. I need quiet time with the Lord, and His supernatural refreshment.



In these dog days of summer, I need extra long drinks of living water.

And I'm looking to you friends for some latter half of summer survival tips. 

I'm not one for signing my kids up for 87 different camps. We participated in our church's VBS, but that's it. I love to be with them daily. I really do. But we all need a break from one another from time to time. Any suggestions for this tired mama on how to incorporate some regular breaks from one another into our days? Like, without having to hire a sitter or actually leave the house? 

Well, it's now officially no longer Thursday. I'm 5 minutes over.

Guess I'll be needing some grace for that too.

On discerning God's will

My husband and I talked last night about how we are in a weird phase, like God is preparing us for change. We don't know what or how or when. Just that something's gotta give, sooner or later. If you've been in a season like this, then you know it raises questions and speculation regarding "God's will." What does He want for us? Which direction should we move in? What kinds of things should we be considering?

From my pre-college days, I've learned it's messy to start asking questions about God's will. When I was applying to schools as a high-schooler seriously agonizing over where "God wanted me to go," a wise friend challenged my thinking when she said, "I'm not sure God has a preference about what college you go to. Probably, you could choose where you want to go, and be the woman He wants you to be at any number of schools." My initial reaction was total disbelief, because in my mind, certainly God had the "right" college for me, and I just had to be clever enough to solve the puzzle of where it was (again, let's talk about how I complicate matters). She was right, of course. I've since learned that God's will for me is so much MORE about who I am and what I believe than what my circumstances are.

This morning, God was gracious to show me something else about His will. I started reading the book of Galatians, and as in many of his letters, Paul starts with an opener (that I almost skimmed over):

To the churches of Galatia:
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself for our sins to deliver us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, to whom be the glory forever and ever. Amen.
(v. 3-5)

It's the gospel, in a nutshell, isn't it? But then, in the very next verse, Paul jumps in with some harsh words:

I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting him who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel— not that there is another one, but there are some who trouble you and want to distort the gospel of Christ.
(v. 6-7)

Ouch. What a way to start a letter. Paul lays out the gospel, and then chastises the people in the churches of Galatia for turning away from it. And what caught my eye is his mention of God's will, the thing we all want to understand better.

Paul seems to be laying it out like this:

God's will put Jesus on the cross to deliver us from sin.
God's will is that we accept this gift and believe that Jesus took our place so that we can live under grace and be at peace with Him.
But you people have turned away and traded all this for something that can't really save you. There ISN'T actually anything else that can save you, but you are being deceived by the counterfeits.

"The gospel," by the way, is a fancy word that simply means "good news." The gospel of Jesus is good news because it explains the one and only way for a person to live in peace with a holy God.

And it's what I lean on. Most of the time.

Like the people in Galatia, I am surrounded by lots of other "gospels," things that promise to save me. Things that offer a deceptive kind of peace, a temporary, circumstantial peace instead of a lasting, personal peace with God. In my conversation with my husband about our future, it would be easy for us to put our trust in the gospel of money. Or the gospel of employment. Or the gospel of our own smarts and resources. Of course, all those are good things that we want. But the truth is that we can be Galatians. We can so quickly desert him who called us in the grace of Christ...and trust in something other than Jesus.

Back then and today, man has distorted the good news of Jesus in every possible way. You can find a book or religion to match any belief you want to hold, it seems. But even within our own churches, many are following other gospels. And no matter what statistics say, I think the biggest threat to the gospel of Jesus is the gospel of ourselves. That's the gospel I am tempted to follow most often.

The gospel of self sounds like, "I just need to figure this all out," and "If it all goes according to my plans..." A woman trusting in the gospel of self secretly hopes God is on board with all her ideas and expectations. I know this gospel all too well.

But in grace, the Lord has gently revealed the times I've deserted him to follow false gospels in my life. He's pruned me back so that I better understand his will for my life: that I trust in the one real gospel, the one true way to find grace and peace, and that is the gospel of Jesus. He is the only one worthy of my trust, no matter the circumstances.

"I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."
John 14:6

For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus,  who gave himself as a ransom for all...
I Tim 2:5-6

What I ended my quiet time wondering is how many of us "deserters" need to return to the one true gospel. It's not easy, because sometimes trusting in Jesus means letting go of that security we feel when we believe we're in control. It sometimes means letting go of trusting in a black and white number on the bottom line. It sometimes means letting go of your expectations you've held onto for years like a security blanket. Expectations in marriage, in childbearing, in finances, in relationships, in health.

My advice, if you're struggling to wholly trust Him, is to throw yourself towards Jesus with abandon. He will catch you. He is not afraid to sort you out. He is the one who can give you the peace you've been looking for.  

If you want to be in the center of God's will, then believe Him. Don't just believe in Him. Believe what He says. And let go of everything else.

Uncomplicating things

What I do is make things more complicated than they need to be.

I analyze, list, ponder, lose sleep over, and plan stuff.

I'm detailed. Really a lot. And I can't not be. My brain was made that way.

But one thing I completely LOVE about God is that He can be infinitely detail-oriented (knowing the number of hairs on my head, hearing my every prayer, and bottling my every tear), and at the same time, also amazingly simple. It's a paradox my small brain just doesn't understand.

He knew we would sometimes need simple.

When I feel overwhelmed by my responsibilities as a mother, a wife, and a Christian woman, I recite Micah 6:8 in my head. It's like three bullet points of uncomplicated.

He has shown you, O man, what is good.

And what does the Lord require of you?

To act justly and to love mercy

and to walk humbly with your God.

And perfectly timed, since God knew I was feeling a tad overwhelmed by my thoughts I shared about in my last post, and the problem of hunger in the world, I saw this today. My friend Julie made this printable (and a whole lot of others) based on Micah 6:8.

I love it when He knows what I need.

She has a big heart, so she opened a little shop to help provide meals for the hungry in Sudan.

Purchasing just one of her printables for $5 provides 85 meals in Sudan. An 8, then a 5. Wow. I can't even get out of Chick-Fil-A for $5. This is the cute print I bought.

Now there's an uncomplicated way to help someone in need. And in a world of complicated, today I'm thankful for simple.

Simple truth.
A simple way to show mercy.

And a God who knows when we need it all boiled down.

 

{hope for Sudan}

{for a beautiful post by Ann Voskamp on the subject of poverty,

one that she posted on the same day I wrote about it,

and where she said she felt sick too, 

one that made me cry, click here.}