Grace on a Thursday: Crochet class

 

Last night, I started a three-sesh crochet class at a local yarn shop.

I crochet now.

Really, it's an odd time for me to be learning a new skill. It doesn't feel like the "right" time. It seems all the resources...time, money and energy...are scarce in my life. It seems, if you're floating on a raft after a shipwreck, the last thing you need is to pick up a new hobby. 

But last night, as my fingers found their way into a pattern, looping over and over again until the pattern was repeated hundreds of times, the pattern became a rhythm. And that rhythm, hammered out along a strand of mustard-colored wool, gave me a steady, soul-satisfaction; one I needed.

The very first verb in the Bible is an action that God Himself does. "In the beginning, God created...(Genesis 1:1)."

It's the first thing He wants us to know about Him. He creates. "Let me just introduce myself, " He says, "by starting at something essential. You need to understand this about me. I am creative. I create. And I am THE Creator." Soon afterwards, we read that we are made in His image.

Some people don't connect those dots, I guess; lots of adults make claims like, "Oh, I'm not creative at all!" Well...aren't you? Or at least, weren't you, before someone else told you otherwise? Do you know any small children who make bold claims that they are not creative? I believe something in us, all of us, needs to create, because we were made in the image of The Creator.

I'm diverging now but I'm not talking about crafts, in case you thought I was. Some people are naturally good at creating a good meal. Or an inviting atmosphere. Or a portfolio for a client. Think outside the box when I say we all need to 'create.' What do you naturally drift towards creating? It might be crafts, after all; you know I for one love a good bunting.

Back to crochet class. I sat there, knowing I didn't have time for this. And yet the quiet focus around the table ministered to me. In a hushed space, your senses have room to wake up, and I felt grateful for small things: for my own capable hands (I may not be able to use them so well someday), for the texture and color of a ball of yarn (like mottled grey alpaca, soft as down), and the way a hundred of them looks stacked along a wall.



What felt like long forgotten skills, crochet class reminded me - forced me - to practice: Be patient with myself. Give myself grace. I could rip out my work and start over because I was just learning. And lately my life doesn't feel the same; mistakes feel like they run long lines of damage. And all the past knots and rips are hard to overlook. Yet the kind, grey-haired woman who taught us gave me freedom to mess up. In fact, she expected it. She smiled on at our awkward movements, our holes and skipped steps. Graciously, she'd walk us through the repairs.

I wish my real life mistakes were the same. I'd love to rip out a long strand of harsh words snapped at my kid, and then wind a more careful sentence in it's place. Honestly, I wish my fabric looked perfect. It just doesn't. Far from it. So crazily far from it.

It's humbling to know that Jesus still smiles at me with kindness. Of course He doesn't smile at my sin, but He smiles at my feeble attempts to fix myself and others when I just don't have the ability. He does have the ability, though. He is the Creator, the master weaver of all things together for my good.

Like the woman who taught the class, Jesus isn't surprised by my mistakes. He expects them. He's ready to walk me through repairs in grace, He and His bloodstained hands.

A little creating, being quiet, and practicing grace for myself did my soul so much good. As did remembering that God is overseeing all the work. He's available, loving and kind, and capable of fixing all the things I can't. 

Crochet class wasn't the last thing I needed. It was the exact thing I needed.

Grace on a Thursday: Hashing out Passover

For years, I've wanted to be a part of a Passover Seder somehow. We used to go to a church that hosted one annually, but we never went. Then, I knew a Jewish family who hosted this special meal in their home every Passover; I secretly wished to be invited over, but it never happened. The Jewish feasts have always been so interesting to me, yet elusive. I have heard of people reading books that walked one through the feasts, but have never researched or had a book title or knew where to begin in celebrating with my own family.

Then, last Sunday, our pastor taught on the first Passover, the final plague on Egypt after which Pharaoh would let the Israelites go. Let me recap the story briefly. Over 2 million Israelites were harshly enslaved in Egypt. Moses was called by God to free and lead the people in a mass 'exodus' into the Promised Land, but Pharaoh was not going down without a fight. (Imagine the economic collapse a country might go into if it lost a workforce of 2 million people literally overnight!) After God sent nine awful, disciplinary plagues on the Egyptians, He told Moses that this final one would be the last straw: He would take the life of every firstborn of every household in the land.

The only way the Hebrew families would remain untouched was if a family had obediently swathed the doorposts with the blood of an unblemished lamb. Then, the angel of death would 'pass over' the household, sparing the life of the firstborn. The blood covered the family from the curse of death. And then, forever more, the Jews were commanded to remember this deliverance and celebrate Passover annually, teaching their children about God's faithfulness and grace. So much grace.

Our pastor read from the Old Testament, where God said the Jews were to roast the lamb meat, and eat it with bitter herbs (or salad greens) and unleavened bread. Because the Jews would very soon be freed, they would be in a rush to escape. In fact, Pharaoh would drive them out in his grief, and there would be no time to bake bread that needed to rise. In addition, God said to eat the meal with one's shoes on, and with one's walking stick in hand for the same reason. This meal was specifically "to be eaten in haste."

It's all so interesting. There aren't many instances in the Bible when God tells us to rush. We take notice when He does. Hurry to your freedom, He says. When I say go, you flee from captivity. This is not a meal to be eaten joyfully over three hours. It is to be taken solemnly and quickly and with grave remembrance, because something had to die first. Remember, there is blood at the door.   

Suddenly Passover seems not a thing to be "celebrated" as much as it is to be memorialized. And last Sunday, I decided remaining on the fringes of this holiday was not necessary; there was no reason I couldn't hash out a symbolic Passover meal in 24 hours for us to enjoy the next night. Heck, the Jews didn't have The Food Network and the internet and 3 easily accessible supermarkets like I did, and they had no trouble working it out.

The Scripture we read on Sunday listed three food items in the Passover meal: lamb, bitter salad greens, and flatbread. Easy. Well, minus the lamb part, which I had never cooked. But in a matter of minutes online, I found a simple recipe for roasting lamb. I went to two stores to find it, but when I did, it was on sale. Win. And finding the other two items was simple as well. I bought a bag of arugula, a bitter and spicy green which I love, and a box of Matzo bread. Crackers. I don't know what the proper term is. (However, when I got home, I noticed the box specifically says "Not for Passover." What? Why not? I don't understand.)

To be honest, I hesitated sharing this experience online. I was a bit afraid I might offend someone who knew the "proper" way to do Passover. I'm hoping for grace in this area, since I should be better versed on the holiday but am not, yet. On the other hand, I wondered if there were more people out there who have been interested in participating in the tradition, but felt overwhelmed or sort of uninvited, like I did.

Well, it boils down to this. My decision to hash out my own Passover and my decision to share it here were both rooted in this belief: God just wants us to remember and share His story. I believe He doesn't care as much about the details as He does about our hearts. Are we remembering that our freedom comes at a high price? Are we remembering there is blood on the door, the blood of the Lamb of God that covers us from the curse of death? And perhaps most importantly, are we telling each generation the stories of God's deliverance and power and incredible grace?

Sitting down to a meal of lamb and arugula and flatbread just made the history come to life. God knows the ways we learn best, and how amazing is it that He gives us tangible symbols? Sharing the Passover meal as a family simply created a venue to talk about God's great works, and it engaged our five senses, which are incredible triggers of memory. The whole experience was simple enough for a child to understand. At the table, we read from Exodus and then from the gospels. The Lamb had to die so that God's people could live. It is bitter and rich and when God says go, you don't hesitate. You run to your freedom.

God is a great Teacher. He doesn't just talk at us. In His grace, He invites us to learn with all our senses. To taste the bitterness of sin and slavery. To hear the dry snap of the cracker eaten in haste. To smell the roasted herbs and meat, satisfying and rich fuel for a long journey. And perhaps what I love best is that He wants us to learn and re-learn with our families. He wants our kids involved. He can't wait for them to taste and hear and smell and wonder about His great works too.

All in all, our night was awesome. I think we may be remembering Passover in this way every year. And next year, I may even find some people to invite.

Grace on a Thursday: I sort of want robots

Motherhood is so weird. I've never come close to experiencing anything else like it.

Being an employee means your job is to manage something for a fixed amount of time.

Being a zoo keeper or a botanist means your job is to nurture something for a fixed amount of time.

But being a mother means your job is to BOTH manage and nurture something for a fixed amount of time. If you can think of something else in life that requires both of those things simultaneously, please tell me.

I don't think it exists; motherhood is unique. I have a set number of years to manage a wily, unreasonable, rebellious, and doggedly independent human at the same time as trying to nurture him or her into an incredible, educated, humble, loving, and powerful force to be reckoned with in the world.

I am at my wit's end this week trying to reconcile the fact that at times, I sincerely wish my children were robots, since that would make the managing part so much easier. Just think how much easier it would be if children were no longer unpredictable and wild? No more rock-throwing, street-running, grocery aisle-screaming, food-dumping craziness. AND at the same exact time, I whole-heartedly want my kids to grow up to be beautifully unique world-changers. Just think how wonderful it would be to raise free-thinking, truth-speaking, love-giving, light-shining citizens of Earth. And I just flat out don't know how to do both at once - how to manage the one, and nurture the other. (If you're thinking as your little kids get older, the wildness goes away, you're totally mistaken. The wildness just changes into different forms of things that make me crazy).

I simply don't know how to nurture amazingness when much of my time and energy is spent on managing the messes, the homework, the laundry, and the feeding of these tiny humans. And when I stop for stretches of time to focus on the nurturing, then the managing just doesn't happen. I get that that's okay from time to time. But personally, I can become discouraged because I can't ever do both well at once. If I'm doing one job well, the other is suffering.

As if the above wasn't daunting enough, a child's needs are always changing. When you have tiny babies, the scales are dipped more on the managing side. As they age, they start to be able to manage themselves in more and more ways, but the scales tip further on the nurturing side. As my oldest is nearing age 12, I keep reflecting that I'm almost out of time. She's almost ready to drive away to a friend's house or Starbucks every day after school. She announced yesterday, from the top of the staircase, "Mom! In ten years from now, I'll be graduating from college." Ten years. Shorter than her life lived already. God knows my deepest fear is that I've spent too much time on the managing end of the spectrum and missed opportunities to nurture her into an awesome human.

Several years ago in MOPS, we took personality tests. I don't remember how we were categorized, but I think it was by color. Let's just say I turned out to be a Yellow. Whatever it was, the leader of this activity went about summarizing each color's strengths and weaknesses. When she got to mine - and I'll never forget this - she said, "And if you're a Yellow, motherhood will be the hardest for you." I can't tell you the number of times I've wished I'd never heard that. I've had to fight off and push down that label, that weight around me which shouts, "Because of your personality, you'll have a harder time succeeding at being a good mom." The implication was that I'd have a difficult time moving from the managing job to the nurturing job. Ugh, and guess what? I didn't need a test to tell me that.

This post doesn't have a tidy moral. When it comes down to the hundred daily decisions I have to make as a mom, I am not confident I know the recipe for awesomeness. Some ingredients, yes, I know quite well. But the majority of my mothering decisions range anywhere from educated guesses to exhausted concessions. And I suppose the only reason I'm saying any of this is to let you know I'm there too, if you are, and am in desperate need of grace.

Grace is the only salve for me when I feel stuck as a mom. Grace washes me off when I feel covered in Yellow. It's favor from the Lord that I can't earn and don't deserve. He just gives it because He loves me, and He fills in my gaps. The kids are His anyway, and I am not so powerful that He will let me completely mess them up.

Best of all, Grace whispers, "You don't need to make your kids become amazing people; they already are, because I've created them to be. Nothing you will ever do can remove my fingerprints from them. And trust me; you don't really want robots."

Well, I'll tell you one thing. If I come out on the other side of motherhood alive, then I do feel I will have earned at least a house-cleaning robot. Or something.


(After more than a year of a break from this Thursday series, I wanted to pick it back up. I'm missing my reflections on grace. We will never fully grasp the depths of what grace can do in our lives. But that doesn't mean I won't press in my whole life long to try to find out.)

Much love,
      

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.

Grace on a Thursday: How to ruin a blog

I don't know if you caught it today, but for a few hours, my blog was totally messed up.

I'm not exactly sure how I messed it up. (And I'm honestly not exactly sure how I got it back, which shows you just how much I know about what I'm doing, technically.) But one false "click" and I lost my whole Top of the Page blog design. All the buttons, the header, the photos, the entire sidebar.....it was all gone. I emailed my blog designer and she said she no longer had the graphics since it was a while ago.

I stared at my screen, fumbling for a solution for thirty minutes. My face was hot, my heart rate was up. I muttered to myself, "I ruined it," over and over. 

Eventually, I had to give up my attempts and take the kids somewhere. I drove around, enjoyed a free Icee from 7-11 (since today is 7/11), and tried to follow my husband's encouragement to calm down. I resisted the temptation to pull up my blog on my phone and continue to stare at what I could not fix.

When I came home, I resolved to try some new ideas to recover my design. Within 5 minutes, my computer completely froze, raising my frustration all over again. But just before I let myself react, somehow then I understood. Ever have those moments when the lightbulb goes on and you realize the problem may not be about what you thought it was about?

Finally. God had grace to trade for my anxiety, and I felt the Holy Spirit telling me to get away with Him for a bit. He had something to say (and how many roadblocks would He have to construct before I stopped to listen?) I plopped myself on the couch and put my face into the seat cushion. So full of grace, He said,

Don't misunderstand what you're doing, here. Your influence, your service to me is holy. Did you really think that changing what your blog looks like could ruin it?

I felt led to open my Bible to what comes next in my daily reading: Philippians 3.

"We put no confidence in human effort, though I could have confidence in my own effort if anyone could. Indeed, if others have reason for confidence in their own efforts, I have even more!

(then Paul lists his credentials for being a "good" Jewish boy.)

I once thought these things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless because of what Christ has done. Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ and become one with him." (NLT)

Paul is talking about "discarding" any reason to boast or appear successful in the world's eyes for the sake of having a singular definition, a singular source of confidence: Jesus.  
 My credentials for having a "good" blog are as follows.
I have a cute, custom blog design.
I have a decent following.
I have some good ideas, recipes, crafts, photos.
I have sponsors.
I use turquoise and cute fonts.
I use social media to promote it.
I...
I...
I...

It's all garbage, compared to knowing and sharing Jesus.

How silly of me to believe for a second that I could ruin my blog by changing what it looks like. The only way I can ruin my blog is to leave Jesus out of it. He is what I have to really offer. (I realize not all of you have the exact same calling I feel I have in blogging, and not all of you have faith-centered blogs. That's perfectly okay. I'm just speaking for myself and what I feel called to/convicted about.)

In my quiet time with Him, after He messed up my design and froze my computer, God reminded me:

People are literally truth-starved. Is your confidence in what your blog looks like? In what the world says is of value? Or is your confidence in sharing Me? Is your confidence in My work here, since you've offered this to Me?

I'm not saying that from now on, I'll make my blog unattractive and stop sharing recipes. What I'm saying is that I need to remember the point. And (sigh) I need to embrace GRACE when I get caught up in anxiety over less important stuff like I did today.

I'm asking myself...

Is my confidence as a blogger in Him and His work alone?

Do I boast about Jesus more than I boast about more frivolous things here?

Do all my other sources of pride look like garbage compared to how much pride I have in knowing Him?

Am I maintaining that the primary motive of my blog is to share Jesus and His story?

I hope so.
 
Because if not, I will ruin my blog.
 
For reals.   
 

Grace on a Thursday: Fatherhood, part 3

This post was supposed to go up last Thursday. Sorry for those of you who were missing my Thursday post...it just didn't happen. It was my kids' last day of school and we had a whole day of activities. So here we are, and it's Thursday again! I'm thankful for that.

I wanted to say one more thing in honor of Father's Day, while it is still June. It's just a simple truth, really, but one I feel is so important for us mommies to learn and grow up into.

Husbands need room to learn how to be dads. 

We don't realize this at first. So many of us are born with instincts to mother and nurture and respond to our child's every need. It's very natural. I won't say easy. But much of motherhood comes naturally. And what doesn't we learn from community; that's the other thing we women are really good at.

Guys? Not so much.

They're not so much naturally nurturing, and they're not so much learning how to parent in communities of other parenting men. No, they're mainly in the workplace, "slaying dragons," as Dr. Laura would say. And for whatever reason, we often expect them to step in the door and know exactly what to do with their children.

Today, I'm challenging each of us to take a fresh look at this dynamic in our homes and choose grace for the dad of our kids.

Suppose each parent was given an empty file box when he or she came home with a new baby. And suppose that file box became the storage place for information about that child. Every look, every sound, and every motion that child made got filed under it's meaning. Over time, the box would be filled with experiences, conversations, moods, quirks, emotions, and preferences of that child. And the only way to fill the box with more information was to spend time with the child.

You have these files on your kid. You know the reaction when....
he misses a nap.
she eats too much candy.
grandma comes into the room.
he starts a new routine.
she has a conflict at the park.
he gets his feelings hurt.
you serve green beans.
she lies.
he gets chosen.
you argue.
he strikes out at the plate.
she gets to read in front of the class.

The amount of detailed information I have stored up about my kids is really astounding. My file box is bursting at the seams. I can anticipate the outcomes of most situations enough to mother them fairly well.

I see the difference between motherhood and fatherhood a bit like this: my file boxes on my children are much, MUCH fuller than my husband's simply because I'm logging so much more time with them. My husband therefore isn't able to anticipate situations as well, and has to rely on a more reactive style of parenting. And to be honest, me trying to shove my notes on the kids into his file box doesn't work very well. He needs to learn how to father them without me getting all up in his business.

Husbands need room to fill that file box of experience themselves. Which means I sometimes need to leave.

Because I hover. I'm a hoverer. I lug my file box around and hold up the papers on those kids and tell him how much better I know them. On rare occasion, that information is helpful and necessary, like on the big issues. But mostly, I'm just being annoying and I need to get out of the way. He doesn't need me to explain how our son won't eat that if there is cheese on it, or how our daughter's bad mood started four hours earlier when I asked her to clean her room. He can figure out the daily stuff. More importantly, he needs to.

(And incidentally, the fact that I married him means, at some point at least, I believed he could. Right? So why wouldn't I give him the room to become the dad that I knew he wanted to be and could be?)

So just get out. If this is new for you, try leaving the room for a fixed amount of time. Don't listen to them, don't hover, don't interrupt. Just let them be. After you see that the world kept turning (snickering at us both) with that amount of distance from your baby or child, try Starbucks. The library. It doesn't matter. Force yourself to leave, and then lower your expectations to zero before you walk back in the door. Not just a little lower. To zero. Most likely, nothing will go the same as it does when you're around. And though it's hard to get used to (um, only taking me ten plus years), different is perfectly fine.

It's so healthy for your kids to see a difference between the ways you parent (as long as you're a united team when it counts, of course). I'm totally speaking to myself here, as much as anyone else. My kids need a good, strong father, and my husband cannot become one unless I give him room to be just that in the relatively small amount of time he has with them.

My kids also need to see that I choose their dad, even when he does things differently. Even when the kitchen is left a disaster and the kids are in bed an hour late under his charge. Even when my jaw wants to drop to the floor when I walk back in the door. Choosing him, in this context, often means choosing grace. And when I have grace in my heart for him as a dad, I say thank you. I'm not thanking him for babysitting. I'm thanking him for parenting, the best he knows how to.

My husband needs to know that in my eyes, that's enough. 

 

Grace on a Thursday: Christians being all judgey

Thursday is a perfect day for me to continue this conversation.

You know, the one that started with this post. Then continued here (particularly in the comments).

And now, it's beautifully morphed into a deeper discussion on what the Bible says about judging stuff.

I emailed back and forth with a couple readers who really challenged my thinking on the topic, and in the face of conflict, I say yes please. I press in and examine and search God's word. Because I know I'm fallible. We all are. And God is not. His word is the bar and is 100% without error. So where else can we turn but to the Bible for clarification on these touchy subjects?

It's super important that we start with a definition of the word judge. Dictionary.com lists 5 for the verb form.

#1 - to decide upon legally or to sentence
#2 - to hear evidence in a legal case
#3 - to form an opinion of, to decide upon critically
#4 - to decide or settle authoritatively
#5 - to infer, think, hold as an opinion, conclude or assess

Right away, I see God is clearly in charge of #'s 1 and 4 when it comes to mankind. He "sentences" and ultimately sits as judge over our lives. He also settles matters with authority when it comes to our final judgement. We have zero room to encroach upon His jurisdiction here. But sadly, lots of Christians have ruined it for all of us by justifying that very thing. Jesus knew that would happen so He told us, "Judge not, lest you be judged." (Matt. 7:1) He is referring to this encroachment on God's authority to judge and condemn people for their sin. (A really good Biblical commentary on Matthew 7 and what kinds of judgements this verse prohibits and does not prohibit are found here.)

On the other hand, we as believers are clearly instructed in the Bible to judge in a #'s 3 and 5 sense. But are we? What I'm afraid of is that our culture has beat the critical thinking and spiritual discernment out of us with the words like "tolerance." Suddenly, Christians are told they are "judgemental" for deciding anything is actually wrong, even if it's explicitly described as such in the Bible. Moral relativism has become the clean way of saying the truths of the Bible are no longer relevant. (I'm getting off on a tangent that is another giant can of worms. Squirrelly, controversial worms.)

Most recently, I heard a sermon at my church on this passage. It is not unclear, and it's message is also NOT what our culture wants to hear. Paul says,

I wrote to you in my letter not to associate with sexually immoral people--not at all meaning the sexually immoral of this world, or the greedy and swindlers, or idolaters, since then you would need to go out of the world. But now I am writing to you not to associate with anyone who bears the name of brother if he is guilty of sexual immorality or greed, or is an idolater, reviler, drunkard, or swindler--not even to eat with such a one. For what have I to do with judging outsiders? Is it not those inside the church whom you are to judge? God judges those outside.
I Cor 5:9-13

It's strong language. But you MUST REMEMBER that Paul is instructing Christians to judge other Christians only in alignment with the rest of Scripture: with gentleness, in love, with a sense of warning instead of condemnation, and most importantly with grace and humility. This passage is just one example of many where we are called to assess and "decide upon critically" how to interact with other believers who are blatantly walking outside of the truth. And the assumption, if you know God's word, is that we would do so under the direction of the Holy Spirit, ensuring that love was the greatest motive.

Well, there is no verse that explicitly says reading Fifty Shades is wrong. And the Bible is open to interpretation based on where we are in our journeys and what the Lord is working on in our lives. And God knows where each of our hearts is. And this issue is not a deal breaker. Obviously. I realize He could use something about reading those books to His glory if He wanted to. Of course He could. And He probably will in some cases.

But what I pursue and also struggle with, to be honest, is finding a way to obey ALL of God's word. There are many verses referring to our freedom in Christ, but there is also a clear direction in the Bible for us to exhort one another in love. Dictionary.com says that "to exhort" means "to urge, advise, or caution earnestly; admonish urgently." We are commanded to advise and warn each other in love when we see fellow believers compromising and veering away from what we believe God's word says. It is not judgement; it is obedience. This is exactly what I was trying to achieve in my first post on Fifty Shades, and exactly what I was encouraging others to do as well with the last bit of the post regarding our sisters in Christ.

But exhort one another every day, as long as it is called “today,” that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin.

Hebrews 3:13

I think what gets messy is when exhortation is done without grace. You knew it would come down to this. All along, the heavy-handed truth was thirsty for grace.

A person cannot be judgemental (in the wrong ways) if she is maintaining an understanding of her own sin and desperate need for God's grace. It's impossible. Maybe I didn't communicate my own need for grace well in my first post. And maybe I didn't feel a need to, since I talk about it all the time on my blog. But some of the resistance to my first post could also be that moral relativism has hardened our hearts a bit so that we are not as sensitive to truth as we could be, just like the Hebrews verse above describes. Our culture's gradual acceptance of sin in various forms is certainly a cause of hardened hearts. Mine included. (I mean, I'm ashamed to say that I laughed through the vulgar movie The Hangover, which after the fact I realize I probably should not have seen. But I have a bit of a hard heart that is not as disgusted by sin as God's is, and I'm working on that.)

Exhorting another believer without a healthy balance of grace walks a line of legalism. A person who is allowing grace to overshadow truth is promoting license. For real growth to take place, both are required: truth and grace. I have always tried to offer both on the subject of reading these books, sharing God's word on the matter, and having enough humility to say I don't always get things right.

And until God tells me to shut down this here bloggy, I'll keep trying to balance truth and grace in each and every post. But because I'm not perfect, my blog will never be.

So I'll keep needing a lot of grace from you too.  I pray I've accurately handled God's word here on these touchy matters. It's not easy to publicly address these kinds of things, but I do so in love. Really. Love for God's word, love for Him, and love for you.

Have a good weekend.

Grace on a Thursday: when you only hear roaring

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The kids and I read together most days after school. Our most recent selection is The Magician's Nephew, the first book in the Chronicles of Narnia series (yep, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is book two.)

We are about three quarters through it, and I am so moved by every chapter. Midway through, the main characters find themselves in an unformed world. All is blackness and nothing has been created. But suddenly, to the most beautiful song they've ever heard, creation begins. Light, darkness, earth, stars, sun, then plants and animals. Sound familiar? The onlookers (including us, the readers) watch as a majestic Lion roams this new world and sings everything into being. His name is Aslan, and it's pretty obvious that He is God in Narnia. Jesus, to be exact (which is made more clear in book two).

Finally, Aslan summons the animals, and those upon which He breathes gain the ability to speak. He then speaks, himself, and is clearly initiating and beautifying all of creation in this new world.

The two children watching, Digory and Polly, hear and see all of this take place as it actually does. However the character Uncle Andrew, their travelling companion, does not. The author, C.S. Lewis, describes Uncle Andrew's experience like this:

When the Lion had first begun singing, long ago when it was still quite dark, he had realized that the noise was a song. And he disliked the song very much. It made him think and feel things he did not want to think and feel. Then, when the sun rose and he saw that the singer was a lion he tried his hardest to make believe that it wasn't singing and never had been singing - only roaring as any lion might in a zoo in our own world...And the longer and more beautiful the Lion sang, the harder Uncle Andrew tried to make himself believe that he could hear nothing but roaring...He soon did hear nothing but roaring in Aslan's song. Soon he couldn't have heard anything else even if he had wanted to. And when at last the Lion spoke and said, "Narnia awake," he didn't hear any words: he heard only a snarl.

A person's beliefs can change everything. Most importantly, they can change one's perception of what's real and true. I love how Lewis is demonstrating this truth through Uncle Andrew's disastrous disbelief and resulting inability to hear Aslan's voice. 

Our intellect can really interfere with our faith, can't it? Whether in a childish story or a real world conflict, what we believe about God quickly becomes the lens through which we experience all of life.

If I believe God is distant and disinterested, I am not likely to listen for His voice. That lie will steal my faith.

If I believe God may not be for me, if I think He may be playing a little disaster roulette with my circumstances, I will walk in fear and rely on control. That lie will steal my trust.

If I believe my brokenness is beyond repair, I will live bound to accusation and shame.That lie will steal my hope.

If I believe I have to earn God's love and perform for His approval, I will live with constant anxiety. That lie will steal my peace.

If I believe that God can't or won't speak to me, I will only hear roaring.

Jesus is in the constant business of forming my world. He builds, grows, and changes the scenery. He whispers to me, "Leslie, awake! I'm doing something new. Don't you see it?" And depending on the condition of my heart, I either recognize His voice, or I only hear roaring. By roaring, I mean the clamor of life: phones ringing, people complaining, stress whirling, everything demanding. It's all very loud.

The grace is that He keeps speaking. Keeps creating, working, and breathing life into me. Grace draws me away from the chaos to a softer place, a quieter place in my spirit. When I choose to spend time with Him, I can finally hear His voice, loving and clear. There, He opens my eyes to see what's real and true.

The question is how long I can stay there without letting the world harden my heart and dull my ears again. The ones who see and understand Aslan from the start have the secret: a childlike faith. It's so perfect and glorious that the unhindered, wonder-filled children can take in who Aslan is better than anyone in the story.  

Belief is a very powerful thing. Uncle Andrew's belief - really, his disbelief - caused him to miss the whole point. When we finished our chapter yesterday, we left him overwhelmed with fear, running for his life away from the animals. The beasts were all running toward him to greet him, but his beliefs caused him to interpret everything wrongly. He is portrayed as the token fool, and his character is a cautionary tale. The wrong beliefs will eventually send you running in fear.

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The right beliefs mean everything. And they start with faith like a child. I don't need to understand everything first. I don't need to clean things up first. I need simply to come to Him with a sincere heart that says, "Speak Lord, your daughter is listening."

And then believe that He will.

Grace on a Thursday: My run in with fancy

Like every Wednesday, today was my morning to volunteer in the kids' classrooms. But before my duties started at 8:15, I ran to get a coffee at Starbucks. I'm not usually a coffee drinker. But it was early, and I wanted a little something to sip while I braved the masses of children for the two hours to follow.

I guess because it was so early, I found myself alongside the working bunch, those who probably stop there every day before the morning commute. Everyone seemed to know each other's names, and were asking one another and the baristas about what the prior weekend held.

Something was distracting me, though. A really strong, but lovely, smell. Not the coffee, I realized. It was the perfume of the woman standing in front of me. It filled the room. It made me take notice of her.

She was really beautiful. Dressed in very chic but work appropriate attire, her curled blonde hair was perfect and motionless, and her high heels looked special. She wore a feminine, fitted white blazer, nipped in at the waist, and matching skirt, all trimmed in black. Her flawless makeup alone looked like a thirty minute project. She was quite a fancy sight, and I noticed she looked about my same age.

I was suddenly aware that what I'd chosen to wear today, what I'd thought earlier that morning looked somewhat cute, instead looked faded and shabby. Both the top and skirt I was wearing were bought second-hand, and if you looked closely, were pilling. My Target sandals were about to see their third summer and the polish was chipped off one of my toes. All I'd managed to get on my face was a little concealer to hide my dark circles and some blush, since I have that post-winter pale look going.

She and I crossed arms reaching for sugar, cream and cinnamon. She doctored her coffee just like I did mine. And as I headed back out to my car, lots of thoughts began to rush through my head.

I first remembered what it was like to have an income before I had kids. And the free time! How freely I shopped and spent time on my appearance. I thought about how much I've given up to have children, and then to stay home with them full-time.

I wanted to be a little judgey, actually, of her. I wanted to hate her perfume and feel better about myself through the streaks of envy I felt by saying in my mind that my job as a mother was better. But I know it's not. The fact is that she could be perfectly in the center of God's will for her life. I have no idea what God may be doing in and through her.

But I do know what God has called me to do. Today, it was to back all this artwork with construction paper.

Ten years ago tomorrow, on my first-born's birthday, becoming a mother was my calling. Working and earning a living and wearing heels on a Wednesday morning were my things to lay down. You don't really realize it because the sacrifice is a slow fade. But now that I'm ten years in, now that I stand next to mid-thirties-fancy-working-lady side by side, I can see that it's a lot. The sacrifice is a lot. In fact, it's huge.

I thought about how both the fancy lady and I had Starbucks cups on our work spaces that morning. Just imagine how different our views were between sips.

It's huge because it's meant laying down my life for others. Particularly, two others. My two littles. It hasn't been that difficult to lay it down. I'd make the same choice over and over, if given the chance. But I'll never be able to grasp how huge it has been for them. Their lives will be evidence of how huge that laying down has been. And their stories have barely begun to be written.

So I guess what I'm saying is that laying down my life to stay home and raise my children can be summed up as a big leap of faith. A leap I have to make every day. I'm having faith that all the work, the laying down, the intentionality, the love, the tears....that all of it gets rolled up in God's economy and formed into something really beautiful: well-raised children.

And because I am a hot mess on some days, a selfish, fleshy, annoyed mess, grace is what I'm counting on to be in the mix. My daily prayer is that all my offering gets rolled up with grace. Lots of Jesus-filled grace.

Grace blesses my sacrifice, fades the mess, and brightens Jesus in my kids' lives.

I'll take that over fancy any day. 

Grace on a Thursday: in YOUR words?

So friends.

Do you know that this little series known as Grace on a Thursday began in March of last year? I was so surprised the other day to discover I have over sixty posts with the tag Grace on a Thursday. Isn't that awesome? I was looking because I wonder...I just wonder...if someday I might compile them. Maybe create a collection. Dare I say...publish them. (typed really quietly so that maybe no one even heard me say it.)

But still, even in so many posts, have I even scratched the surface of what God's grace is? I love this line from one of my favorite Christian songs called "What do I know of holy?" by Addison Road:

What do I know of you, who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood, but the shores along your ocean?  

My personal experience is so limited. I'm only 37, for goodness sakes. I am honestly a girl standing on the shore along an ocean of God's grace. How much of it can I possibly see from here?

And so I thought I'd look to you.

I wonder what you think of when you hear the word "grace."

I wonder how you've experienced it. Or shown it. Or lived and breathed by it during a dark chapter of your story.

I wonder how grace has rescued you.

I know it's rescued me, many times. And continues to, like at 5 o'clock when I haven't started dinner and someone is calling my name every thirty seconds. And when I'm so lonely. And when I've said a harsh word I wish I could quickly breathe back in.

If you have thoughts on grace or a story about how you've experienced it that you'd like to share with me, I'd love to hear them. Maybe it's a person who's lived grace when you needed it most. Maybe it was a season of strength you wouldn't have otherwise had to make it through a hard time. Maybe grace was the hardest gift you ever learned to give.

If your words are too many for a comment, you can find my email address by clicking the "email" button on the right sidebar. Please include the word "grace" in the subject line so I can spot your email quickly.

Your words, if you decide to share them with me, will be treasured and kept confidential. And I will do my very best to reply to each of you.
One of these days, Grace on a Thursday may become something more than a blog series. I'd love for you to be a part of that with me.

I wonder what God will do with our His stories of grace.

Grace on a Thursday: in Megan's words (with a Giveaway!)

Well.

This is a special Thursday indeed. Megan is a unique guest-poster. For one, she is an awesome girl whom I know and serve with at church. For two, she is a legit author, people. The other day, I was at Barnes and Noble, browsing the Christianity section, and my eyes landed on her book. Yep. It's there. Because she is the real deal. She wrote a book about her journey as a single, Christian woman called A Year of Blind Dates: a single girl's search for "the one".

So after I got over my tinge of envy that she has a book at Barnes and Noble (!), I asked her if she'd share her heart with you guys. I was so honored that she said YES.

I know some of you find yourself in her same shoes. And I know that some of you know and love women who are single and may need some encouragement. Well Megan has generously offered to give away TWO signed copies of her book!

To be entered, just leave a comment below. You get an extra entry for being a follower of my blog, and if you FB or tweet this giveaway (leave an additional comment for each entry). The giveaway will run through Sunday and I'll choose and announce the two winners on Monday. Awesome opportunity, right? You know how excited I get about books.

Okay, now stop thinking about wanting to win, and soak up this girl's wisdom. You're going to be blessed. Thank you so much, Megan, for sharing your heart (and your books!) with us.

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Grace in the waiting

A few years ago I had the privilege of hearing Donald Miller speak at Mariner’s Church in Irvine. At this event, he talked about waiting. Waiting on the Lord to do something specific in your life. Something you’ve prayed for. Longed for. That thing you so deeply desire and yet, it’s still not yours. For me it is marriage and motherhood.

It is my deep desire, but at 34, my ring finger remains bare.

We all know waiting is hard and painful, but it can also be a time of conflict in our heart. A time when we just do not understand what God is doing. We know we should trust Him, but we struggle to do so. Don (I’d like to think we’d be on a first name basis) expressed how conflict (and waiting) is present over and over in the Bible, starting in Genesis 2 before The Fall. The start of conflict was not when Eve tasted the apple; the first conflict was actually Adam’s desire of wanting a helpmate and not finding a suitable one.

Then The Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make him a helper who is right for him.
Genesis 2:18 

God says it, so he does it, right?

Well…yes. But, in His own time. Instead of immediately creating woman, God creates all the animals, brings them to Adam and asks him to name them. This, I am sure, took a very long time. Not days, or weeks, but most likely years and years.

Instead of Adam sitting idle, aimlessly waiting for this helpmate, God gave Adam something to do. This job, this very important job, was God’s grace in the midst of Adam’s waiting. As a result of Adam’s new title as CNG (Chief Name Giver), Adam was obeying God and making an impact. I’m confident during this name game Adam found joy and contentment, but as a human I imagine he was conflicted as he kept looking for a suitable helpmate and coming up short.

Was he always wondering if the next animal God put in his path would be The One? Was he hoping (like I am) that it would not be much longer before he had a companion?

The man gave names to all the tame animals, to the birds in the sky, and to all the wild animals. But Adam did not find a suitable helper that was right for him. So the Lord God caused the man to sleep very deeply and…used the rib from the man to make a woman, and then he brought the woman to man.
Genesis 2:20, 22

Eventually, in his own perfect time, God delivered.

“Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh” Adam says to describe Eve. Someone so perfect for him that she is made from him and one with him. I’d like to believe this is more than Adam could have ever imagined for himself. In the end he received a double dose of grace in the gift of naming animals and the gift of a suitable helpmate.

This passage in Genesis challenges me to look at my time of waiting, my season of “naming animals”, from a different perspective. As I wait, I want to see the wonderful things God as given me. From my career as a teacher, to becoming an Aunt, to climbing the Great Wall of China and publishing a book, the list is abundant. It’s rich. It’s a gift.

It is His grace in the midst of waiting.

Grace on a Thursday: Blog? What blog?

Um, have you noticed that I haven't posted since last Thursday?

Sista, I need some big, generous grace today for not being around here much. Not reading much, interacting much....all things I want to do, but things that I've had to put on the back burner for a time. That always happens to me this time of year. Every extracurricular activity has it's end of the year carnival/project/class play/award ceremony/field trip/banquet. We've been doing lots of those.

And to top it off, BOTH my kids' birthdays are within the next 4 weekends. So April/May sorta kills me. It is all great and super fun. Just busy with stuff that can't really be skipped. You know what I mean? I skip a lot of stuff we get invited to for the sake of simplifying our schedules on a regular basis. But this time of year is full of un-skippable stuff. Right?

So this poor little blog has been seriously neglected. I wanted to thank you for sticking around, though. I really loved the conversation that got started up by this post, on honoring a Sabbath day. Really great comments and input from you all. You inspire me, seriously. You encourage and exhort me in the ways of the Word, and I love that. No, I need that.

So in my blog-absence, here's a bit of what I've been up to.

A couple fun projects to keep myself sane, since I haven't been writing (which is my first choice of ways to stay sane).

A neighbor was getting rid of this amazing 5-panel wooden folding screen with chippy paint. Um. Yes please. I asked for it and he promptly carried it into my garage. Free. Awesome. Cannot wait to paint it.

Thrifted happiness.
New drapes for my bedroom.($20)
Cast iron wedge pan. ($2)
Frames for wrapping with fabric. (3 for $16)
Harajuku skinny jeans for my girl. ($1.50)

Lengthening my new drapes with a little teal chenille I had on hand. (I like the sound of that.)

More May-Sanity-Preservation: Starbucks Frappuccino 1/2 price happy hour is going on right now. I may have wandered for 15 minutes in a pet store, listening to all the locations in my house that could accommodate a hamster cage, just so I could get to Starbucks after happy hour started. If the cost of this drink starts with a $1, I'm in. My girl had to try the new chocolate cookie Frap too.

And like I said, we've been doing a lot of end-of-the-year business.

Awana award ceremony with my silly guy.

Closing performance of Annie with my little grubby pretend orphan.

Grammy and Papa in town to see their little orphan too, and then take her to get a strawberry Nutella crepe afterwards.

Chaperoning the first grade field trip to an aquarium. On a big bus. Three kids to a bench. 1 hour ride. Whoa. That's love.

I think he thought this giant taxidermied penguin looked tough.

Fish faces. This guy is so sweet. He also knows really a lot of details about the weapons each Star Wars character owns. I do, now, too. Because that was a long ride.

The trip reminded me how much I love to hang out with this precious guy, one on one, and really appreciate how amazing he is. (It also reminded me that I am old and have motion issues.)


Look at his birthday invites. I absolutely could not resist this print-it-yourself mini comic book download I found on etsy here. She inserts your image, personalizes them however you want, and then you print, cut, and assemble. So perfect for my young jedi!!

So I've been doing a lot of this. Capturing my babies in their sweet moments of glory. Planning for their special days. Listening to all their desires and dreams for their celebrations. And appreciating the gifts they are to me. Precious, precious gifts from God.  

So no deep spiritual analysis here today. Just living my life, loving on my babes, trying to maintain my house and laundry in light of the busyness, and feeling thankful for each of you and the ways in which you model faith, love, and Godly living to me.

Hopefully, I'll get to write more soon. Hugs.

Grace on a Thursday: I'm still listening

I listen to Pandora a lot. Do you? It's a website with free music where you create your own "stations" based on what kind of music you like. When I first started getting on the Pandora train, I remember exclaiming, "OH my gosh, it can totally read my mind!" Because once it knows what kind of music you want to hear (let's say I create a Mumford and Sons station), it guesses really well and plays all kinds of other awesome music based on my preferences. Somehow, Pandora knows what I like.

But after about 45 minutes, it does this annoying thing. Suddenly the music stops. My room is silent. I have to walk over to my computer, and invariably, the screen says, "We don't want to be playing music to an empty room. Are you still listening?" I have to click "Yes, I'm still listening," and the music starts back up again.

Today I'm asking God to be more like Pandora.

Because sometimes I treat His voice a little like background music. Just a happy presence as a backdrop in my day. I'm trotting along, getting my stuff done, and sometimes I find I just don't really "hear" Him. I get so familiar with Him - too familiar - that I stop listening to His exact words, the ones being whispered to me all through the day: Love her. Say no. Accept yourself, because I do. Stop and listen to him. I really love you. She needs encouragement. I forgive you, try to forgive yourself. Great job with that. 

All His words of direction and encouragement....I let it become white noise.   

Until something goes awry. I get frustrated. I yell. I feel discouraged. My plans get messed up. Someone hurts my feelings. Whatever. But regardless, I notice the music has stopped. No more background happiness. He hasn't stopped speaking to me, mind you. The noise of my own muddled heart has drowned Him out.

At that moment, when I realized what I've neglected, I want a button to click. To reset my heart. I wish I had a screen where God is asking, "Are you still listening?" and I could click, "Yes, I am now," And our connection would get reestablished just like that.

It's not exactly as easy as clicking a button. For me, it takes a little more effort than that to wipe away the heart clutter and hear His voice again. But under grace, He always gives me a second chance to tune in.

I love the line in the hymn "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing," the prayer actually, that says, "Tune my heart to sing Thy grace." It's my prayer too. God is singing His grace over me, all day long. His wisdom and His affirmation. If only I could keep my heart tuned in, to sing along all day....If only!

But He loves me anyway. He speaks anyway. Oh the grace that He keeps speaking, even when I allow the noise in my heart to drown Him out.

Lord, help me to stay in tune with your voice, and your songs of grace.
The best I can, I'm still listening.