Category Archives: purpose
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?
It’s a good day.
I’ve blogged before about what makes a good day. Is it sleep the night before? When things are going the way you want them to? Or is it just the attitude you have toward the day? I think it’s all of these things and more. I think a good day comes from knowing where God wants you and standing in the middle of it. There may be a storm all around you, but as long as you know you’re where you’re supposed to be, doing what you’re supposed to be doing, it’s a good day. Today is a good day.
Didn’t sleep last night, but that’s not new. Both kids had bad dreams. Ellie ended up sleeping on the couch. She came into our room bright and early. Was it 6 A.M.? Does it matter? I had already been up for a while praying and listening and imagining I was still asleep, but once she came in the day began. Rick jumped into the shower – okay, slithered may be a more accurate term – and Ellie climbed up in bed with me. We began our daily ritual of me pretending it’s nighttime and her insisting it’s daytime. As she flung open the blind to show me the blue sky, she noticed one of her children’s Bibles in the stacks of books that line our bedroom. Thus began story time. We took turns reading Bible stories for about half an hour until Zach meandered in sleep-eyed and adorable in his footed pajamas. Time for food.
There are a few things consistent with all Dennis men. Once their minds are made up, they’re made up. Negotiations, manipulation, begging, even feminine wiles mean very little and often evoke the opposite of intended results. Secondly, they need food to function. No fancy-schmancy girl food, either. Real food. Something of substance. Zach, for example, will eat an entire pound of bacon all by himself. Did I mention he’s two? Yeah. Once Zach wakes up the clock starts ticking. Gotta get food in him or the family’s equilibrium will quickly be upset. Fortunately, I went to the grocery store yesterday!
Blueberry pancakes with some Laurie Berkner and Go Fish! in the background. A perfect morning. Oh, and did I mention the after breakfast workout? The kids decided to tackle me repeatedly on Zach’s bed, which is really just a mattress lying on the floor. (We’re still deciding how to do his “big boy” room.) Well, this resulted in about forty crunches on my part with 34-40 pound weights (a.k.a. my children) wiggling around on my legs. That’s the most intense exercising I’ve done in at least a week!
Yup, it’s a good day. Zach has even gone in the potty twice already this morning. It’s not that things are going well. We’ve had our share of sibling arguments this morning as well, and Zach was not exactly thrilled about wearing underwear today; Ellie’s been whining because the rain is sure to destroy her plans to ride bikes today.
It’s a good day because I know I’m right where I belong doing what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m a mom and I’m taking care of my kids the best way I know how. I’m training them to know God and live a life that honors Him. Hopefully I’m being an example of how to love Him with all their hearts. It’s a good day because I know my purpose and am taking the small steps necessary to fulfill it.
Today’s Soapbox
Have you seen the commercials for the movie Get Smart? My husband really wants to see this. In one of the commercials Agent Smart is flying through traffic or something next to a minivan. The kid in the back yells out: “Mom! Mom! Mom!” His mother halts her cell phone conversation to yell into the backseat: “Brad! Brad! Brad! Do you see how annoying that is?!”
Every mom can relate. We want to be there for our kids when they really need us, like when some man is flying by the car as we drive or the wrong thing gets flushed down the toilet, but the effect is lost when the “wolf” call is made too many times in less than dire situations. Or when they simply aren’t talking to us at all!
Here’s an actual conversation from this morning:
Ellie: “Mom!”
Me: “Yeah, babe?”
Ellie: “Mom!”
Me: “Yes?”
Ellie: “Mommy?”
Me: “What?”
Ellie: “Mom-meeeeee!”
Me: “What??”
Ellie: “MOM!!”
Me: “What?!! What do you want?”
Ellie: “Um …. um … um …”
And then she drifts off, not even looking at me.
I leave the room.
Three minutes later: “Mom!”
I return already frustrated from the earlier exchange: “Ellie. If you have something to tell me, just tell me. I’ve answered you a number of times and you’re not saying anything. If you call me, talk to me. Do you understand?”
Ellie: “Yes, Mom. Mom?”
Me: “Yes?”
Ellie: “Can I tell you something?”
Me: “Yes?”
Ellie: “Flowers smell nice.”
Ten minutes later I hear this from the basement where I’m doing laundry:
“MOM!! I NEED YOU!!!!”
I race up the stairs, but my kids’ voices are quite similar so I have no idea who made the distress call. Ellie’s sitting on the toilet and Zach is playing cars just outside the bathroom.
Me: “Who needs help?”
Ellie: “Zach.”
Zach: “No, I don’t.”
Me: “Zach, are you okay? Do you need something?”
Zach: “No.”
Me: “Ellie, what happened?”
Ellie: “Nothing.”
Me: “Did you call me?”
Ellie: “No.”
Me: “Who called me?”
Ellie: “I did.”
Me: “Why?”
Ellie: “I love you!”
I hate it when people use my name in vain. My mother seemed to think I was being sacriligious the first time I used this phrasing, but this is exactly what I mean to say. I cannot stand it when people call out to me without purpose. If there is no reason to use my name, then don’t. It’s irritating. Exasperating. And yes, annoying. I love my children to pieces! I love being their mom! But there is no reason for them to scream as if a limb has been severed when all they want to say is that they love me. There are better ways to give me this wonderful message.
Kinda makes me wonder how God feels when His name is used in vain. We say we love Him, to, but how often do we actually say it in a way that shows the heart of that message? You hear a hollow yet emphatic “Jesus” or “God” exclaimed much more frequently than you might hear “Tanya!” or “Oh my John!” I don’t want to be a Neuman where my name becomes a curse word and yet that’s just what has happened to the name of Christ. My heart cinches every time I hear someone use His name in vain. Can you imagine how hurtful this must be to Him? Imagine how many times God hears people call out to Him without purpose or meaning. Shame on us as a culture.
I did it!
Anyone ever read A Hat for Ivan? It’s a children’s book by Max Lucado. It describes a village in which all the citizens wear hats. On their 12th birthday, they each receive their own customized hat, made just for them by the hatmaker. These hats tell them what they should do and what they should become. They draw attention to their strengths, their gifts and their greatest joys. The story tells of the hatmaker’s son, Ivan, who is about to turn 12. As he walks through town, several people give Ivan hats just like theirs. They presume to know what he should do. The baker wants him to be a baker; the music teacher thinks he would be better suited as a musician; the fireman has his own ideas, as well. None of the hats fit very well and they all weighed him down. Ivan was left in a heap trying to please everyone and never truly reaching his potential.
I’ve been an Ivan. Blame it on my middle-child syndrome. Or maybe I’ve just been convinced it’s the “right” thing to do. Regardless, I’ve been moping around for three weeks trying to convince myself to wear hats that don’t fit. I’ve been weighed down by what others think I should be doing. I’ve been crumped into a pile by the expectations placed upon me — none of which fulfill my purpose. I’ve listened to the wrong voices.
After posting this week and receiving all your words of encouragement, I did it. I made the calls I needed to make to get out from under the wrong hats. And you know what? Just like Ivan, I feel so much lighter! I feel happier and, best of all, I can now wear the hat made just for me. I’ve regained my desire to write. I’ve actually spent several hours today working on my book; a project that nearly fizzled has been revived. I’m so grateful!
So, THANK YOU for your prayers and encouragement. Thank you for your sound wisdom. And thank you for your patience with my compaining and dim-wittedness, two traits that seem to prevail often. *grin* I praise God He doesn’t give up on us, even when we’re not listening. I thank Him for His clear direction and quiet strength that allow us to heed His still, small voice.
Finding Focus
I wrote a children’s book last month. This month I spent teaching stamp classes, studying magazine markets and starting a new freelance editing project. Next month I’ll be running a new book giveaway over at CCBR. None of this has anything to do with my nonfiction book proposals. Three months pass and I’m not a single step closer to my goal.
Before our vacation one of my writing groups held a discussion about branding, setting a distinct way for people to remember you and what you do. People naturally brand, so the idea is to brand yourself before others give one to you. If you want to be known as a suspense novelist, write great books to earn you that title. Parenting books won’t do the trick. If you want to be known as a missions advocate, speak about your passion, and I don’t mean your baseball card collection. Once people categorize you, it’s difficult to alter their perceptions.
Personally, I wish I had convinced Sunday school workers my son is assertive and passionate before they labeled him as difficult and aggressive. It’s not lying or changing the facts, just putting a positive light on them. We admire assertive and passionate adults. Those same traits in a two-year-old, however, exhaust and frustrate us. I face an uphill battle convincing nay-sayers how wonderful my kid is when they’ve already decided he’s trouble.
Our discussion revolved around pros and cons, hows and whys. A number of members grew concerned. They didn’t want to be pigeon-holed. Is it “wrong” to write more than one genre? To enter diverse markets? One panelist explained it’s not “wrong,” but it’s not expedient either. We can go in different directions at the same time, but we’ll arrive at both destinations much later than if we had just chosen one path.
Rick and I experienced this last month. We were meeting a group of friends for our annual outing to a special resturant. Rick printed Yahoo maps and I copied directions from the website. After some off-roading (nearly driving into a lake), we arrived an hour late — all because we tried to follow two routes at the same time.
I would rather be known as diverse than distracted. But then sometimes distracted is the better word. My time is limited. Spending it playing an online version of Boggle doesn’t help me finish those book proposals. I need to focus.
What is the focus God wants you to have? Are you divided in your endeavors?
We all wear several hats. I’m a mother, a wife, a friend, a sister, a neighbor, a daughter. I’m also a writer, a teacher, an encourager, a stamper and scrapbooker. And this is just a glimpse! I’m not saying we can only be defined by one thing. I’m just saying that we need to emphasize the one thing God wants to be our focus. If He wants you to witness to your coworkers, you can’t spend all your time together talking abour movies and never mentioning the Gospel. If God wants you sharing meals with the homeless, you can’t avoid where they live.
Let’s find our focus and reach our destinations.
Photo by Margo C, courtesy of Flickr.com.
Life’s choices
Have you watched your fill of holiday movies this season? Everyone has their favorites. Mine include The Sound of Music, though I’m still not sure why this is considered a Christmas movie — does it have anything to do with the holidays? Doesn’t it take place over the summer? National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation is another classic. But my very favorite is The Family Man. If you’ve never seen it, I highly recommend you do.
What I fear more than anything else is that I will reach the end of my life with a mountain of regrets. Everyone has something they wish they had done differently. I’m not really talking about the little things; I’m referring to life-changing decisions. I worry my bad decisions will outweigh the goods ones, so much so that my life’s triumphs will be unnoticed in the face of blaring defeat.
The Family Man looks at one decision and shows a man how different his life would be had he taken the other path. I wonder what my life would be if I had chosen differently. If I hadn’t married Rick … if we had no children … if we had moved to Boston insted of New York … if … if … if …
I think about me before these decisions. I was a hippy artist in high school and a globe-trotting humanitarian in college. I was assertive, confident, even cocky. I was involved in everything. I was an actress and a player. It seems a lifetime ago in someone else’s backyard. Have I left who I am behind? Is that who I am or is who I am now the real me? Have I made the right choices?
Everytime I start thinking this way, a song from church echos in the back of my mind. It slowly crescendos until its words are all I hear. “My Savior loves. My Savior lives. My Savior’s always there for me. My God He was. My God He is. My God He’s always gonna be!”
The same God I served in Bosnia and Switzerland and Indiana and Philadelphia is the same God I serve now. He is living and loving and always by my side.
In the movie, Tea Leoni’s character talks about these what if’s. She wonders what her life would be like if she hadn’t married her husband … “and then I realize I’ve just erased all the things in my life I’m sure about.” I love that line.
Life would definitely be different. But it doesn’t matter because the same God I served then I serve now and He is the one in control. He knows I need what I’m sure about. He knows our best purposes and will ensure we fulfill them.
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?
Not writing; not in a coma
James Watkins said, in Writers on Writing, “Unless you’re on life-support, you can write.” He, after double-hernia surgery, completed a book project “with two ice packs down [his] pants.” Well, I’m happy for him and I appreciate his point, but … well, he’s wrong. Okay, at least not completely right.
I have been sick for the last two days. The cool thing is I actually completed more writing since becoming sick than I had in the entire two weeks previous. (Chalk up a point for the Mr. Watkins.) However, I accomplished that only because I can’t do anything else. My head pounds if I stand up. There’s nothing on tv during the day. My amazing husband has removed all distractions, otherwise known as Isabel, Zach, laundry and dishes. (Thank you, Rick!!) So, yes, I’ve gotten something done, but is it any good?
Even in the little laws
“We know that everything in the Law was written for those who are under its power. The Law says these things to stop anyone from making excuses and to let God show that the whole world is guilty. God doesn’t accept people simply because they obey the Law. No, indeed! All the Law does is to point out our sin.” – Romans 3:19-20 (CEV)
Romans is my favorite book of the Bible. Set aside the exquisite writing, it quiets every argument against grace. Since the beginning of time, people have been trying to be God. We want to prove we’re excellent enough to set the rules. Even when faced with God’s rules, we try to convince ourselves and everyone around us that we meet the standards without exception. We claim to do everything right, but we never do. None of us is perfect. None of us truly meets God’s standard of righteousness. To prove this, God gave us the Law. If you’re Jewish, you know what that means. If you’re a Gentile like me, you may understand something about the Law, but you have no idea of the weight of the law. That is, unless you’ve actually read through Leviticus and Deuteronomy and tried to live by the 614 regulations stated there. The Law was given to humanity not to offer a path to salvation, but to highlight our need for grace. Even the “little” laws do this.
I got a ticket today. I’ve been driving for sixteen years and have only been pulled over twice.
The first time was the day before my wedding. I was so giddy about becoming Mrs. Richard P. Dennis that the officer let me go with well wishes for our nuptials. Our wedding memories included over three feet of snow, a fire, lost contacts, cancelled flights and a bunch of relatives trapped in a hotel with nothing more than frozen dinners and a microwave. And, of course, my almost speeding ticket. I loved that day!
The second time was today. I wasn’t giddy today. We were driving to the mall for a price adjustment. A certain sale is offering the school clothes I bought three weeks ago for Isabel at one-third the price I paid. I was already frustrated at the need for the trip and my impatience to wait for a sale in the first place. Then, in the car, Isabel started arguing with me over something, I don’t remember what. I missed my turn and was forced to take the longer route. I continued barking at Isabel then saw the police officer step into the street in front of me. It was then I looked at the speed: 50 mph in a 35 mph zone. It gets worse. I couldn’t find our proof of insurance. I found four insurance cards in the glove box, but none of them were the right one and all were expired. Fortunately, the officer was merciful. Yes, I got a ticket. I actually have a court date and a point on my license, but he didn’t impound the car. That’s good – right? He waved to the kids and told me since I had them with me – well, if I hadn’t had them with me, he would have impounded the car immediately.
I spent the rest of the drive and our entire time at the mall blaming everyone but myself. If Isabel hadn’t been so argumentative, I would have been more focused on my driving. If the store didn’t have such high prices, I wouldn’t need an adjustment and we wouldn’t have been on the road in the first place. Why is the speed limit thirty-five there anyway? It’s clearly a nonresidential road and so the limit should be higher! I’ve never seen any kids around there. And where is my insurance card?! I blamed the city, the other drivers (who prevented me from making my turn), Isabel, Rick (poor guy wasn’t even in the same county), and just about everyone. Everyone but me. But none of them were at fault. I was speeding. I am to blame.
The Law is not intended to prove how good we are. Its purpose is to prove how good we are not. This was just the speed limit, but the implications are vast. This one little law, when broken, shed light on so many of my imperfections: my pride, arrogance, slanderous thoughts, impatience, unloving attitudes, disrespect for authority … I am in desperate need of God’s grace! Praise God for the Law!! Without it, I would think I was doing pretty well. With it, my shortcomings are unmistakable. My only way out is through repentance.
Praise God for His goodness! May it always be more obvious than my faults.
Photo by Elvis Santana, used with permission. yotophoto.com
Growing to Maturity
Maybe I did too good a job potty-training Isabel. I gave too much praise for fine deposits and supplied too much enthusiasm with her progress. Whatever the cause, I am still reaping the rewards. Each and every time Isabel goes to the bathroom, I hear a voice filled with sweet pride. “Mommy! I have a present for you!” She is always thrilled to reveal what she has produced. “Do you like your present? I made it just for you! I love you, Mommy.”
Of course, I’m thrilled with the gift, but the novelty is wearing off. Her going in the toilet is no longer a favor to me; it’s what she’s supposed to do. She’s three. She has been potty-trained since last December, yet she expects me to still be overjoyed with her achievements.
Today, as I stood smiling into the grand porcelain bowl, I wondered how often we do the same to God. We get all excited about our gifts and expect Him to be thrilled with our offerings. We think we’re doing something wonderful, giving Him something that will bring Him pleasure, but all He sees is a pile of poop.
Like Isabel, perhaps our self-imposed standards are too low. Consider this passage from Hebrews.
“For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you have need again for someone to teach you the elementary principles of the oracles of God, and you have come to need milk and not solid food. For everyone who partakes only of milk is not accustomed to the word of righteousness, for he is a babe. But solid food is for the mature, who because of practice have their senses trained to discern good and evil.” – Hebrews 5:12-14 (NAS)
The apostle Paul wrote of believers who should have been devouring spiritual steak, but still required milk. They didn’t grow at a healthy rate. They were stuck as faith infants.
Where are we? Are we content to drink the same spiritual lessons we learned long ago? Do we still expect praise for doing what we’ve always done and in fact are required to do? If so, we need to take it up a notch. We need to stretch our faith by diving deeper into the truths of God, by learning more of His character and the purposes for which He created us.
A big part of being a Christian is sanctification, the process by which we become more and more like Jesus. The blood of Jesus Christ washes away the sins of all who believe. God sees those believers as pure and holy. Sanctification makes us more as He sees us. Little by little we become the righteousness Jesus died to provide. Sanctification is growth. The more we know the heart of God, the more mature we become in our spiritual walk, the more we can enjoy steak instead of just milk. I love steak! Imagine the morsels of spiritual goodness we can taste if we continue to grow. May we never become stagnant.
(In case you’re wondering … no, that’s not one of my kids on the potty. It’s just a great photo I found online.)
