Monthly Archives: November 2007
We have a new nephew!!
I am very happy to announce the birth of Levi Micah! Congratulations to my brother, Ted, his wife, Erin, and big brother Cameron.
Levi was born early this morning, weighing 9 lbs, 1 oz; measuring 21″ long. He looks adorable! I can’t wait to meet him later this week. Just had to share my joy with all of you. 
(I would post a picture, but I only have one on my phone and don’t want to publish it without the parents’ permission.)
Happy Thanksgiving!
A long-awaited decision
The answer is “no.” And I’m okay with that.
Here’s a recap. Back in May I pitched a nonfiction book idea at a writers conference. I got a few nibbles, but only one real bite. An acquisitions editor enthusiastically requested the full proposal. After polishing it a bit, I emailed it to him. That was June. Less than two weeks later he contacted me again. He liked it! 
By July my proposal was with the editorial director awaiting a board decision. Since then I have been trying to acquire patience.
Here we are, five months later, and I have neither patience nor a contract. (Not a good match for their current editorial plans.) I do, however, have contentment.
Maybe contentment isn’t the right word. I expected to be upset, but I’m not. I’m not even surprised. I’m not sad; I’m actually relieved. As I’ve gone over my proposal the last few months, I’ve seen so many weakenesses. The idea is great, but it needs to be refined, polished, perfected. My writing needs to improve. So is this vacant feeling happiness? Opportunity? I don’t know. Maybe I just hate waiting more than I hate rejection.
One thing I do know: God is in control. Of that I have no doubt. He has a plan and He has equipped me to fulfill it. Now if only I knew what that plan was!
“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” — Ephesians 2:10 (NIV)
Please pray with me and for me. I’m not discouraged, I’m just uncertain. I know God wants me to write, but what does He want me to write? Where? For whom? And how much of my time and energy should be devoted to this? Or is there something else He really wants me to do? I don’t know. So … prayer is my only option.
Seeing Snow
Today was the first snow of the season! Okay, we had some flurries last week, but they hardly count. They lasted only a few minutes and the kids didn’t get to see them. But this morning we had big ol’ flakes and they came down for a couple hours. It’s too warm to stick, but we were still excited.
What was the first thing we did? Cleaned the windows. I handed Isabel and Zach a couple Windex cloths and they tackled those fingerprint smudges and sloppy window kisses. What a difference clean glass makes!
As the kids counted snowflakes, I counted dirty windows. Not in my house — it hasn’t been that long since I cleaned the windows; In a house with two preschoolers, clean windows only last a matter of minutes anyway. No, I counted the imperfect ways I view things. We all look at life and its experiences through certain lenses, lenses smudged by our past, by our assumptions, by our expectations. How often do we clean those windows? Are we seeing life as it really is or are we mucking up the view with our own filth?
The only way for us to see clearly is to view life through the eyes of God. He is the Creator of all things; He knows what is real and how it was meant to be. He designed it! And the only way to view life through His eyes is to know Him. How do we know Him? By studying His Word; by opening our hearts and our minds to see His truths all around us.
“Open my eyes, that I may behold wonderful things from Your law.” — Psalm 119:18 (NAS)
Lord, I ask you to clean the windows of my heart. Help me to see today and tomorrow and all the days after that in light of Your truth. Remove the grime of my past; scrape off my dingy bitterness and feelings of entitlement. Open my eyes that I may see Your wisdom and Your design in all of life. Then I will have no alternative to utter amazement, for You are the Creator of wonder!
Frustration vs. Procrastination
“I think of Joseph, whom Hannah and I are studying in homeschool. When he was given disappointments and hardships that we can’t even imagine, in the end he looked the ones who were responsible in the face and said that God meant it for good, and it was okay because of that. Beyond that, I am constantly convicted by something I heard David Jeremiah say on the radio recently. That if we’re fatigued, if we’re frustrated, or if we’re failing, then we are trying to do it in our own strength. That made me mad at first, but I eventually saw that it was absolutely true, and I had to give up control back to Him if I was going to get anywhere.”
I’ve complained much of frustration lately. When I asked a friend to pray for me, this was the response she sent me. This entire week I’ve not felt frustrated, but credit is not due to my friend’s wonderful admonition. The reason I feel less weary is simply this: procrastination. I’m not stressed over how to spend my time or my energies because I’m wasting it all. I’ve been drowning myself (and my time) in novels. Not that there is anything wrong with reading!! Wow – I would never even think such a thing! But if reading keeps me from fulfilling grander purposes; if it supersedes what should be a higher priority, isn’t that a problem?
“Whatever you do, do your work heartily, as for the Lord rather than for men.” — Colossians 3:23 (NAS)
In other words, we are to give our very best; we are to work with passion and tireless ambition, no matter what we do. I think of this verse whenever I tackle a less than glamorous chore. Like dishes. I hate doing the dishes. But reading! I love to read! I will gladly read with all my strength and all my time. But is that the work I’ve been called to do?
Just a reminder
We’re almost half way through November, but we still have a LOT of books to giveaway! And good ones, too! If you haven’t already, be sure to stop by CCBR to enter our Great Big Book Giveaway. If you have stopped by, stop by again! No purchase necessary. You just need to leave a comment on the right post. Good luck!!
What time is it?
“No nap time!!” It’s a happy hollar, a joyful call for the end of rest time, but when sounded at 5am it’s not welcome.
Daylight savings is a joke and not a funny one. Is there a way to have it apply only to households where all members can read time? At what age do kids start to read time? My kids only know “mommy-time” — you know, “bed-time”, “nap-time”, “lunch-time”, “reading-time” and the like. They have no concept of actual numeric time. When does that come? About the same time I’ll finally get to sleep in. And why doesn’t Ecclesiastes mention “a time to sleep?!”
a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.”
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (NIV)
The making of a good day.
“What does that mean?” My friend’s question startled me. I stood, deer in headlights, wondering how many different ways my statement could have been interpretted. It’s a good day. It means exactly what it says: it’s a good day. What does she mean ‘what does that mean?’ I gave her some answer, I don’t know what, but continued thinking about her question throughout the day. What makes a good day good?
The day before Zach and I went to the grocery store. This was after hitting the post office and dropping Isabel off at school and before preparing lunch. I strode through the produce focused, list in hand. By the time we reached the deli, Zach was hanging out of the cart, beginning to whine and begging to walk with me. The store was empty so I granted his request, but my task mode was not deterred. A fit was in the making.
Do you ever have lightbulb moments? Out of body experiences? I don’t know what to call it, but every once in a while I receive a completely objective view of my situation. It’s like life stops for just a moment to let me really see what’s going on. There in front of the lobster tank, one of those moments hit me with an all-but-audible voice. “Why are you in such a hurry? What do you have to do that is so important?” I was rushing to get through the store so I could rush home to do what? Read a book? Laundry? Sit on the couch and wait another two hours until Isabel needed to come home? Play with Zach? I realized Zach was having a wonderful time in the store! He was noticing every package, pointing out letters he had learned and colors he loved. He ran his matchbox cars over the edges of shelving. He was being good and enjoying it, and all I wanted to do was get out of there so we could go home and do nothing near as fun.
I think we rush too much. Sometimes it’s necessary, but most times it’s not.
After tucking Isabel in for her nap, I prayed: “… God, please draw Isabel unto Yourself that she might know you personally …” Isabel looked perplexed. “Mommy, what did you say to God?” I repeated the words of my prayer. “But, Mommy, what if God doesn’t have paper and crayons?” I laughed and then drew her unto me in an embrace of explanation.
Zachary bonked his head on the side of his bed. I kissed a number of spots, not knowing which was ground zero. He quickly corrected me by pointing to the offended hairline. More kisses. Through his pacifier-muted mouth he begged: “More! More!” I kissed all over his head until giggles overflowed. “Thanks, Mom.”
These are the moments we miss when we rush! I’ve struggled in the role of stay-at-home mom. I know this is what God wants me to do, but it’s been a trial to acclimate my mind and my ambitions. My college roommate confidently pronounces her life as a stay-at-homer as “the most fulfilled she’s ever been.” I envy her. I’m restless. I’m bored. I’m frustrated. I am all these things when I am in a hurry. But when I slow down … when I savor the moments rather than fly over them for the sake of the next activity, then my life can be described as nothing less than complete. She’s right — this is the most fulfilled I’ve ever been, when I stop to recognize it.
What makes a good day? Perspective. That’s my answer. (Sarah, if you’re reading this, take note! I don’t know what I said on Monday, but this is my final answer. *grin*) If only I could have those out-of-body moments of clarity all the time! When I realize what’s most important and let the rest go, it’s a good day. When I understand the truth of God’s love and let it flood my life, it’s a good day. When I see miracles in the details … well, days don’t get any better than that.
Photo by Maurizio Pietropaolo
The Icky Stuff
We are reading through 1 John in our family devotions. Each morning we read a chapter from the Bible then briefly talk about it before praying together. After reading the second chapter, Rick asked the kids, “What did you hear?”
Isabel launched into a lengthy description of icky stuff and Jesus scraping out the insides. It took a while, but I finally made the connection. “Yes, that’s right! When Jesus forgives us He gets rid of all our icky sins.”
It amazes me what these kids learn and remember! The “icky stuff” explanation came from a book I read to the kids weeks before. The evening’s menu included acorn squash. As always, the kids helped me cook. While they scooped out the pulp and seeds from the centers of our squashes, I read My Happy Pumpkin (by Crystal Bowman), explaining that Jesus cleans us of all our sins, then puts His light inside us, just like a happy pumpkin. We hadn’t talked about it again since then, but she remembered.
Last week, after a particularly difficult morning, she surprised me again. I cried as we drove home from her school. I was frustrated, embarrassed and simply at my wit’s end. My thoughts were flooded with desperate prayers, not interested in the stream of conversation in the back seat. As I returned to the tangible present, I heard Isabel giving Zachary a theological exhortation. “…she’s crying because you were screaming. Do you know what that is, Zachary? That’s sin. Do you know what sin is? Sin is the bad things we do, like screaming or hitting. Sin hurts people, like you hurt Mommy. She’s sad and that’s why you can’t scream anymore. Right, Mommy?”
Moments like these humble and intimidate me. I am humbled to know God can use my sometimes flippant conversations to make such strong impressions on our children. I am intimidated for the same reason. Parenting is tough. It’s nonstop and chased by guilt.
The verse above encourages children in preschool and children who are my age or older. Our sins are forgiven not for us, but for HIS name’s sake; that HE maybe praised. He is the light shining through our happy pumpkins. The more goop He has to scoop, the more room there is for His glory.
