Tuesday, April 26, 2011

God is Bigger...

"Daddy has no fear because he's big. He's bigger than you!" My 3 yr old's words brought laughter to us last night. I'm not sure where they came from or what she was thinking about. I suppose it had something to do with the thunder we could hear outside? As I'm sitting here now I can't help but think that those same words apply to me in a greater sense. God is my father- my Daddy. The Bible says, "And because we are his children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, prompting us to call out, 'Abba, Father.'” (Galatians 4:6) The word "Abba" means "Daddy" or "Papa". It's a very intimate word- with the same context as my little girl would use to call out for her daddy.

From time to time I get caught up in fear. Fear of sudden disaster, fear of failure, fear of what people think; you name it, I've dealt with it. I am a natural planner, which means I also have a tendency to worry. Even today, as I filled out my daughter's pre-K application, I was hit with fear. Worry. What-if's. One question had to do with the applicant's disposition, especially as marked by temper tantrums. My daughter is three. She throws fits. We deal with them at home, but I started worrying about how she may act when the teacher tells her to put the glitter away- will she throw a fit? Throw the glitter? Be kicked out of pre-K? All fear-related questions. All me-focused questions, spiraling out of control. All silly thoughts that, if I were to take a step back, I would dismiss immediately.

In 1999, my best friend died in a car accident. I was supposed to have been in the car that day, as she had invited me several times. The thought that I could have been in the accident scared me. I was also two weeks away from moving out of my parents' house to head off into the great unknown: college. On top of that, I was studying for my driver's license exam and terrified of failing the parallel parking portion! I was an insecure 18 yr old worry-wart, drowning in a sea of fear and panic. I met with our pastor's wife, a school counselor at the time. She led me through an incredibly scary and successful exercise: the what-if game. I had two minutes to write down all of my fears. Then we talked about each one. What would happen if I really did have a car accident like Erin? What if I never made a single friend in college? What if I failed all of my classes and lost my scholarships? As we talked through each one, I started to see a trend... my answer to all of these fears had one thing in common: JESUS. Jesus is the ultimate Friend and would guide me in making friends at school. Jesus would protect me and, if I were to die young, He would welcome me into Heaven. Jesus would be there for me. Jesus would provide. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. I was shown verses in the Bible that clearly stated His promises- and I've watched Him prove Himself faithful to me ever since.

I use that exercise even now, 12 years later. What if my hair looks stupid on picture day? What if I forget to pay a bill? What if the car breaks down? What if I lose a child? Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. From the serious to the silly, Jesus is the answer to all of my fear. His love for me fuels my confidence in Him.

"We know how much God loves us, and we have put our trust in his love. God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and God lives in them. And as we live in God, our love grows more perfect. So we will not be afraid on the day of judgment, but we can face him with confidence because we live like Jesus here in this world. Such love has no fear, because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of punishment, and this shows that we have not fully experienced his perfect love. We love each other because he loved us first." 1 John 4:16-19


 My heavenly Daddy- God - is bigger than me. He has no fear. Jesus never said "I fear..." in the Bible. He said "I AM."

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Garlic Toast...

Keith and I give each other what you might call an "allowance". It's fun money- to buy things we need or want through the week that aren't groceries, gas or bills. I tend to use mine to take the kids out to eat for lunch or to buy ice cream or some other treat. Today it was Jason's Deli.

We love Jason's Deli. Courtney loves it because of the soft serve ice cream machine. Today I went in with a plan. Simple. Masterful. Awesome. It went something like this: "I will order something that takes 5 or more minutes to make. That way I can get my drink, get the kids' muffins, straws, extra spoons and everything else, find a table and get seated just in time for them to find my little red #63 and bring a tray of goodness to us." Perfect! I usually don't attempt such an endeavor without Keith. We have those places we go just the three of us (easy places- like McDonald's), then there are places I don't dare go without an extra set of eyes and another pair of hands. Jason's Deli is usually a two-parent venue because we always end up going back to the salad bar for more muffins, getting refills and taking Courtney to get ice cream at the end.

As I headed toward the fountain drinks, Matthew in the high chair (thank goodness for wheels!) and Courtney tugging behind me, an employee approached us and asked for our number. Our food was ready. What?!?! I panicked in my thoughts. This isn't part of the plan! I don't even have a drink- or a straw! Do I really need a straw? I can go without one this time. Oh, but we don't even have a table! It went on like this for what seemed like minutes but in reality was only a split second (or two). The kind woman offered to carry our food to the table. YES! Thank you!

I quickly grabbed a drink and found a table. As we sat down, my heart was still racing. I tried to make things work, but I really needed that trip to the salad bar if I were going to get through this meal. Since there were no booths open I couldn't nurse- which meant Matthew would be eating graham crackers and small bites from my plate. I wasn't thinking clearly, so I raced to the salad bar, backwards, with my eyes on the kids and grabbed all I needed in record time. I sat down at the table and took a deep breath. Courtney ate quietly and Matthew ate with his feet on the table. *sigh*

As lunch progressed, I was still a little frazzled. Not to mention I was dressed in a ball cap and T-shirt after a good workout this morning. It seemed that everyone else there had just been in church by the way they were dressed. I felt out of place. After squashing the comparison bug with my bare hand, I decided to enjoy lunch with my kids. I could overhear the couple next to us as they watched Matthew eat crackers. They thought he was so cute- SCORE! Then Courtney dropped a muffin. She went down to get it- SCORE AGAIN! What a big girl, I thought. I've taught her well. She dropped something and now she's gone to pick it up. Oh, she picked up the muffin alright- and put it in her mouth! The man next to me laughed out loud. I could have died. I made her discretely spit it out. Yuck. The couple left soon after- possibly sickened at the sight of a child spitting a gingerbread muffin into her mother's hand. Oh well. Back to enjoying lunch.

Still a little frazzled.

I took Courtney and Matthew to the ice cream machine for desert. Why didn't I think of this at salad-bar time? I could have just taken them with me! Duh! Courtney loved her ice cream. Matthew had a few bites as well. He started grabbing for other food and found a piece of garlic toast- you know, the hard, crispy crouton-textured kind. I didn't think he could bite any off, so I let him try it.

WHOA! What a face! Matthew clearly thought it was bitter. The man at the table next to us (new couple this time) laughed out loud- HARD! He obviously thought it was hilarious, as did Courtney and I. Matthew caught on quickly and smiled. He took another bite, made a bitter face and laughed. It was a game now (and SO cute!) The rest of lunch was much more enjoyable. My frazzledacity melted away.

I got to thinking on the way home. I had such a bitter attitude through more than half of our lunch. My circumstances were not bad at all, but I handled them wrongly in my heart. I thought of Matthew. That toast was obviously bitter to his taste, but he handled it with joy. That joy was contagious. It even spread to the table next to us. It made that guy's day- and then I could hear him telling his family about it. I thought, We all get handed bitter situations in life. I guess the important thing really is how we handle them. If I want to be a blessing to others, I should handle those bitter times with joy.

(I got a little video on my phone while at Jason's Deli)


And one more thing: As I left, I put the cracker into my purse, hoping to get his cute little garlic toast face on video once we got home (since my phone camera wasn't very clear)- but he didn't make the bitter face. He actually looked as if he enjoyed the cracker. It reminded me of something Beth Moore said in a video about the little inconveniences and annoyances in our lives. They can seem so bitter at the time and we can handle them in a way that brings us (and everyone around us) down. We soon lose sight of eternity. We lose perspective. But if we handle these situations well, if we look at them through God's eyes, we learn to live with them while praising God. I have come to realize that many of the little irritations in my life are put there to teach me something. They mold my character. They reveal my sin. They may not be caused by God, but they are definitely used by God. Oh, how I long to be changed and shaped- molded and worked out until all of the rough places in my soul are smooth. I suppose that's what sanctification is all about. I've already been saved by God's grace. Now He's working on smoothing out my soul. Garlic toast. Heavenly sandpaper. Whatever you want to call it, as bitter as it is to swallow, I know I need it if I'm to be molded more and more into the image of Christ.

Monday, April 18, 2011

A Blog Per Day Keeps The Therapist Away...

I would love to be a consistent blogger- but even now I'm quickly typing with one eye on the monitor and one eye on the clock (I'm fancy like that), waiting for Courtney to wake up at any minute, rubbing her eyes and asking for cereal. I've thought of several things to write on in the past month, now here I am writing about, well, writing. Strange how that happens, right? I am an outward processor. I've got to get one thought out before I can finish another.

So here it is, the thought for the day: "A blog per day keeps the therapist away." Nothing against therapists here, I was just thinking that if I would take time each day to put my thoughts on cyber paper maybe I could spend less time trying to hash out my thoughts with Barbie and Dora. They look great on TV, but in real life they aren't very good counselors. Barbie just tells me to look my best, and Dora always rattles off something in Spanish about monkeys... too bad I took German in high school! Stay at home moms don't always have the best outlets for processing. We're surrounded by little ears with tender hearts. We don't want to burden our kids with the little worries that sneak up on us through the day- like bills or frizzy hair or the lady at Silver Dollar City who commented on my weight last Saturday... uh, I mean... yup. We don't need to load our kids down with that petty stuff, but we've got to work through it sometime.

We outward processors usually just need a way to get our thoughts OUT. We tend to pray out-loud, even in private. We write. We learn through teaching. We have coffee with girlfriends and discuss our prayer requests for 20 minutes before actually praying... at least I do.

My little princess just woke up. She smells like syrup, which means the pancakes we had for dinner last night are lodged somewhere in her hair... so it's breakfast and bath time and then we're off to Target to find dress shoes for Courtney. It's going to be a good day- because isn't any day good when you get to buy shoes??