Category Archives: details
What are your limits?
Everybody has their limits, the little invisible lines that define what is appropriate and acceptable and what is not. A number of people have asked me if I only read books by christian authors and christian publishers. The answer is a resounding “No.” Neither do I only listen to christian music or watch movies that portray christian characters. A problem arises, though, when people who know I am a christian assume that all the books I review or recommend meet their same standards of propriety.
So, here’s my question for you: what are your limits?
I understand CBA will not publish a book if it includes a single swear word. It makes me think of Gone with the Wind and all the hub-bub Selznick endured for that one famous line: “Frankly, my dear …”
Will you read a book with swear words? Are there certain swear words that are okay and others that are not? What about sensuality? Do you have different standards for books versus movies or TV?
I have a friend who insists she’ll not read books nor watch movies that include profanity. Yet she loved Erin Brockovich. Have you seen that movie? Not only does it portray a single mom with immodest fashion sense and questionable morality, but the F-bomb is dropped liberally throughout. Almost as much as Good Will Hunting. My friend wasn’t bothered. In that case, the story took over. She was so drawn into the plot that these inclusions, which typically assault her, went unnoticed.
Where is the line and how good does the story have to be to justify “impure” details? Raw details often lend greater authenticity, but how much is too much? How do you define the line?
Hairy Races
Fine hair runs in my family. My husband’s family is blessed with gorgeous, shiny thick hair. My brothers have beautifully thick curls. My mother, grandmother and I (and doubtless generations of disappointed women before us) suffer with stick-straight, floss-fine hair. My poor granny also boasted white hair since birth and a receeding hairline that has made us all worry about drive-in movie theatre foreheads.
Ellie’s hair, unfortunately, comes from my side. The girl has gorgeous color and curls to die for, but it’s fine. I don’t mean thin. She has a lot of hair; it’s just fine. If you’re not afflicted with such you may not understand the trouble this causes. It tangles horrendously and can take hours to comb through.
In college I drove with a friend, windows down. I subtly collected all my hair into my hand and held tightly. She didn’t understand and told me to let go. We weren’t going that far and my hair would be fine. We arrived at our destination twenty minutes later, her hair still beautiful and perfectly neat. Mine, however, had been replaced by a huge nest made from straw by a schizophrenic bird. This is the future to which my genes have doomed our daughter. Add this to her curls and every bath day invites torture and lament.
Combing her hair is painful for both of us. Removing the messes takes patience, gentleness, diligence and usually some help – like a life-saving leave-in conditioner.
Sometimes it’s easier to ignore the tangles. Rather than suffer through her crying and my impatience, I’d prefer to pop it all up in a ponytail and forget it. But the tangles always grow. Left untended, they get worse.
Sometimes it’s tempting to only remove some of the rats, the bigger ones, and let the smaller ones wait for another day. I mean, isn’t forty minutes of combing enough? If it’s not done in that timeframe, then maybe it really doesn’t need to be done. If the top layers look nice, the rest can wait – right? I admit: sometimes I give in to this temptation, but come next bath day, I have to answer for my haste with greater diligence.
Why am I telling you all this?
Because the messes in our lives are the same. We may be tempted to let them be, ignore them or just save the conflict for another day. But we need to deal with our problems. Yes, it takes work and will likely involve pain, but the alternative will cause more pain. We need to remove the sin from our lives, no matter how big or small. I’m not saying all of our tangles are related to sin, but if it is, then we need to root it out. If it’s not, we still need to deal with it if we want to continue to grow in our faith and be used by God to our greatest potential.
There is good news! Just as I would never tackle Ellie’s hair without help, we cannot tackle our problems alone either. To do so is futile, setting ourselves up for failure. Praise God we have life-saving help! No leave-in conditioner, but rather we have a pool or resources. Prayer. Faithful friends. Encouraging Scripture. God-fearing teachers and leaders. Accountability. Best of all: the Holy Spirit on our side who knows our weaknesses. When we remove the tangles that encumber us, we can run faithfully the race laid out before us. We can be champions!
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”
- Hebrews 12:1 (NIV)
Ruthie, sweet Ruthie
If you missed yesterday’s early post, you may not realize Ruthie is my laptop. You know, “where you go, I will go …” She’s been by my side faithfully for more than two years, but lately she’s not been feeling too well. What is the lifespan of a laptop?
The good news: Rick was able to revive her last night! She was up and running beautifully just long enough for me to back up all my stuff on Rick’s fortress in the basement and, just to be very thorough, on disk. She got stuck on a prompt just before bed, so I left her on overnight to finish the copying of files.
The bad news: this morning, she re-entered her coma.
I’m so sad! I’ve been joking for sometime that when she dies I’ll get mac. Have you heard of Scrivener? Well, it looks like a super cool – like really super cool! – writing program. It, however, only works on macs. So it’s been this running joke that I’ll quickly replace her with something newer and better, but now I just feel awful. Like a sleezy spouse reveling in a blatant affair. And my sweet Ruthie never knew how much I appreciate her, how much I adore her, how I couldn’t have done all this without her and …
Yes, I know it’s just a computer. But she’s my computer! The first one that has ever been all mine. Rick gave her to me after my first article was published. It’s symbolic of his faith in me, that he thinks I can do anything as long as I have the right tools. Isn’t he great? I love him.
Believe it or not, when I started this post, my purpose was not to stage a memorial service. Really. Now that that’s done, I can tell you: I’m still here! Ruthie may be on her last leg and quite unpredictable in her reliability, but I’ve got a lot coming up for you this week. Stay tuned! I shall brave the frigid basement and re-write posts all for you, my friends.
I’m participating in a book blog tour this week; I hope to have the post up later today or tomorrow. Also, I want to rehash Christmas a bit (with pictures!) and share some Sunday Morning Leftovers. You don’t want to miss it. So, even if I’m erratic in my posting, stick around.
Relinquishing Control: Part Deux
If you missed the first part of this struggle, click HERE to see my progress thus far. That post focused on Christmas decorating. Today is another kind of decorating, but with cookies. Observe.
My Christmas cookies:
And Ellie’s Christmas cookies:
It was another day of me continually biting my tongue. I really want her to enjoy cooking – and she does! – but I also really like things the way I like them. Thank God He gives me the grace and wisdom to keep my mouth shut and just let her play. Watching her put pink and purple on Christmas cookies was tough for me. Then she pulled out the dragees which proceeded to roll all over the kitchen and hide in crevices yet to be discovered. The biting continued. My back even started to tense.
But then I looked at her face, how proud she was of those ugly little cookies …
… and then I realized how she’d already eaten half of them anyway and wondered why in the world I cared.
Sometimes I get so focused on the details I risk missing out on the really important stuff. I’m glad this time I caught myself before missing out, another memory to be treasured.
What are my goals?
Do you remember this story? The whole passage is Luke 10:38-42. I’ve often felt bad for Martha. She’s doing what she knows is expected of her while sweet little Mary completely ignores what’s considered proper and right, yet Martha receives the reprimand. It just doesn’t seem fair. And yet I know Martha was sacrificing what was great for what was only good. Such is the nature of distractions.
My week is pretty crazy. We had Zach’s birthday yesterday. On Wednesday the kids and I drive to Philadelphia where they will have a couple fun days with Grandma while I attend a writer’s conference. Then, on Saturday, we’ll grab Rick and our bags (which I am packing today and tomorrow) and drive to Cape Cod for a big family vacation with cousins and more. I had hired a babysitter to come today. The plan was for her to play with the kids while I finished up my proposal and preparation for the conference. (This is the first time I have EVER hired a babysitter so that I could do something for myself. Of course, I’ve been riddled with mom-guilt since making the phone call. It’s silly – right? Oh, but mom-guilt is a topic for another day.) Well, the phone rang early this morning: the babysitter is sick. So here I am distracted like Martha. I have lists of things that must be done and not near enough time to accomplish it all. I’m struggling to choose what is great over what is merely good.
I need to remember my goals.
Martha and I share this: we care about what people think. She wanted to please people with her wonderful hostess abilities, her clean home and lovely meals. I want to please people too — with my writing, my (sometimes) clean house, my stellar creativity, my brilliant children … the list goes on. And when someone disapproves of me or what I’ve produced, then I want to drop everything to prove I’m better than they think I am. I can meet their expectations! I can please them too. Slightly neurotic – right?
My life goal is to glorify God. It doesn’t matter what society deems “proper.” It doesn’t matter what people think of me. My goal is to bring Him glory by whatever means possible. Today that means staying focused, undistracted. It doesn’t matter if I pack the red shirt or the blue one as long as I get packed. It doesn’t matter if I can’t practice my pitch or finish my proposal (gulp!) as long as I pray and keep my kids safe and happy. The distractions are in the details and I need to focus on the big picture. At least for today.
Hmmm …
Maybe I’ve been misunderstood. Or maybe you all understand what I’m trying to say better than I do!
My last post was meant to be a casual “Hey, what do you think about coincidences? When do we heed them as more than just chance?” Instead it somehow turned into a specific decision: should we adopt or not. My sister is adopted, so my awareness and affinity for adoption are definitely higher than your typical American, but we’re not even sure we want more children, much less how we want to get them! Maybe I should have offered more than one example. Like this:
A few months before the adoption and underprivileged children theme I was repeatedly struck by how international our neighborhood is. I ran into non-English speaking people nearly everywhere I went. I noticed how our corner convenience store offers more products in Hebrew than English. The closest church to us speaks Korean, but our closest neighbors speak Spanish. Just on our block we have people from Israel, Russia, Ireland, Columbia, India and Serbia. So what do I do with the brow-beating awareness of our area’s international nature? Do I start a cross-cultural ministry? Do I try to learn Russian? Review my Hebrew primaries? Or just plan regular “‘Round the World” evenings at home with internationally-themed dinners and activities?
Maybe my life has “themes” simply to highten my prayer efforts for those causes. Maybe orphans need more prayer the weeks I’m confronted with “coincidental” reminders.
There are so many worthy causes in the world. How do you choose which ones you’ll be actively involved with? Thoughts?
Coincidence or calling?
Have you seen the movie Fools Rush In? It’s about opposites attract, going with your gut and making two worlds work together. Isabel (played by Selma Hayek) firmly believes God sends us signs to show us what we’re supposed to do. After only knowing him for two days, she marries Alex (played by Matthew Perry). Alex doesn’t believe in signs and, when the honeymoon wears off and work starts stressing him, decides their marriage was a mistake. He moves from her home in Vegas back to Manhattan. But when he gets there everything reminds him of her and the life they had started together. Marquees, bus logos, strangers walking their dogs, a priest on the sidewalk — he even runs into a little girl at the heliport named Isabel.
Lately time seems to be connected by themes. For a week or a month or however long, I will continually run into reminders of the theme, whatever that may be for that period of time.
Last month, for example, every day something would point me toward adoption or under-priviledged kids. I saw ads in magazines and pamphlets in stores. The same billboards I pass everyday typically advertising jewelry or some degenerate movie were suddenly seeking foster parents. While waiting in line for the zoo train I overheard an entire conversation about how orphans misdiagnosed with learning diabilities are locked in state facilities with no prospects of adoption. I ran into an old friend awaiting the arrival of their son adopted from India. Even the novel I was reading talked about caring for forgotten children.
So my question is this: are these signs that I need to be following? I know, I know getting doctrine from a movie is not the brightest idea. I’m just saying that the frequency and relentless nature of these encounters makes me think of that part of the movie. And it makes me wonder if I’m missing something.
So what do you think? When time has a theme is it coincidence or calling? Is it a window of opportunity shut when you refuse to open it? Or is it a subconscious discovery? Are those things always there just never noticed before?
Awareness Test
Spaghettipie posted this video on her blog recently. (If you read both our blogs, I apologize for the redundancy, but just couldn’t not post this.)
It reminds me of God. I know, I know … EVERYTHING reminds me of God! But isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be? As someone created in His image, a daughter of the King, shouldn’t I be centered on Him? Shouldn’t He be forever at the forefront of my mind? It’s the point of a christian life and this blog — discovering the extraordinary God in ordinary life. I may be just a stay-at-home mom, but the Creator of the universe finds me daily, so that equals much more than a life of casseroles, people! *grin*
So WHY did this video remind me of God? Well, like I’ve said before, He’s all around us, right in the midst of our lives yet we’re so busy looking at other things we sometimes miss Him. The answered prayer. The timely response. The friend who’s there right when you need it. The sunset that takes your breath away. The child’s contagious laughter. Do you see Him? Or are you failing the awareness test?
Offering Shade
One of my first posts on this blog was about our backyard. In it I lamented our lack of privacy and told of a slight haven I created by stealing the neighbor’s shade. I am proud to announce we now have our own shade! Isn’t it beautiful??
Too lovely little patches of shade. We planted the trees on Memorial Day. Well, Rick did most the work, but the kids and I had fun watching. Okay, I know they’re tiny trees and the shade they offer is slightly pathetic, but it makes all the difference. Maybe not to you, but to us the effect is amazing. To us, the backyard feels cozy and welcoming. It feels more like home. (Right now my friend Karen is laughing her tail off on her mini-farm of seven acres.)
Sometimes little things make a huge difference.
Last week Zach had a rough day which caused a rough day for all of us. For no apparent reason (I’m sure there was a reason, but I was never able to decifer it), the boy screamed for five hours. I’m not talking whiney crying or fussy grumpiness. I’m talking full blown at the top of his lungs screaming. For. Five. Hours. Straight.
Being outnumbered is tough. There’s only one of me, but there’s two of them, each with different needs needing to be met at the same time. Having two children so close together and yet so completely opposite is a challenge, to say the least. When one child has a rough day, it’s far too easy to take it out on the kid who is not having a rough day. Unfortunately, the kid being calm and collected often suffers the brunt of frustration caused by the one being wild and unruly. I know this and I try to prevent it, sometimes more successfully than others.
Last week when Zach was pulling on my last thread of sanity, I stopped. I took a deep breath, then I left him in a safe, but closed space and took Isabel outside. We sat on the edge of the driveway while I told her how much I loved her and how patient she was being that day. I thanked her for her good behavior. Her smile could have lit up the whole east coast! When I expressed how difficult it must be to have to share your mommy and put up with a noisy brother, she wrapped her arms around mine and nodded her head. The rest of the day, she was so very helpful. What a difference a little encouragement can make! Just that bit of gratitude and acknowledgement of her perspective gave her shade. It refreshed her (and me!) enough to make it through the rest of the day.
We are a people filled with pride. It’s easy to point to others and acknowledge their shortcomings, because after all we know how it should be, how it would be done if we were doing it ourselves. But how often do we point out the good things? How often do we appreciate the way other people handle themselves? Sadly, not enough. Just a little bit of thanks, a little bit of encouragement can make someone feel welcome. It may offer them the shady refreshment needed to make it through the rest of the day. It can make them feel like home, safe and secure. Rested.
“Pleasant words are a honeycomb sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.” – Psalm 16:24 (NIV)
Take the opportunity today to plant a tree in someone’s backyard. It may take just be a word or two. Maybe a smile or a hug. Offer someone the sweet haven of encouragement.
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
