living like no one else...

One of the special challenges of choosing to make sacrifices today so we can be in a better financial position tomorrow is that we are left with some day-to-day circumstances that are quirky at best.

Take our microwave, for example. It's a perfectly good, operational appliance. I have no trouble with it...except that we keep it in the garage. We actually have one in our kitchen that can't be used, except to tell the time, as an over-the-stove light, and a stove vent. It's a bit of a story as to why we don't put the working one over the stove, but suffice to say that sometimes it's better for your marriage to accept inconveniences! It's not as if we don't realize that this is an unusual situation--and we've had it pointed out to us that it would be simpler to have a microwave in the kitchen. One four-year-old visitor to our house followed me in to the garage to pop popcorn and, after looking around her, offered this piece of helpful advice, "we keep our microwave in the kitchen..."!

My husband drives what we affectionately term, a "grandma car." And truly, it once was. This 1989 Oldsmobile Cutlass once belonged to a nice elderly lady who took it once weekly to the market and to church. It has much fewer miles on it than our 1999 Toyota Sienna! It also has a sagging interior on the ceiling, no rear view mirror, mold in the trunk and a missing seal on the driver's door (which isn't all that bad if you don't mind a perpetually damp left butt cheek and the fact that the floor on the driver's side once had enough moisture in the carpet that my husband found mushrooms growing there one morning!). Despite all these inconveniences, it runs very well--AND IT'S PAID FOR.

Our latest challenge is the kitchen faucet. Two mornings ago, the handle went all funny when I tried to shut it off and I had to use two screw drivers to get the water to stop running. I fiddled around with it a bit and got it operational again. So, now it's working fine--practically. If you figure that the hot water now registers at five o'clock, warm is somewhere between one o'clock and five o'clock and colder temperatures are somewhere between eleven and one (with temps after five showing tremendous variance)--IT'S ALL GOOD!

Some day, I truly believe, we will look back on all this with fondness. We will have newer--cars (hold the mushrooms!) and other conveniences. I hope we never forget these sacrifices, though, because besides helping us reach our future financial goals, they are helping us all build character and perseverance.

I envision the day when we are entertaining in our lovely home and one of my friends brings a dish to share that needs heating up. I will graciously tell her to follow me in to our beautiful kitchen and smile to myself when I tell her, "we keep our microwave in the kitchen!"

half-lit tree...half-lit me

The picture on the left is our Christmas Tree. A few days ago, the lower sets of lights stopped working. I have to say I'm glad it is the lower half--that way the tree still looks nice from the outside, through the window. You can't even see that the bottom half is dark.

Christmas Tree lights are different than I remember them when I was growing up. As a child, I remember that when my dad would get the box of Christmas lights out, my mom would bustle us kids away for a few hours while he sorted them out. The sorting our process involved laying each string out (and we had TONS!) and plugging them in. If a string didn't light, dad had to crawl along the string and check each bulb individually. This was a tedious and frustrating process involving much language my mom didn't think our tender ears needed to hear!

Today's lights are somewhat more forgiving. We have strings of lights that have a few bulbs that don't light, but they don't seem to keep the string from lighting. I guess they are only slightly loose or something. This seems like progress until you get the lights strung on the tree and then one bulb comes out or is loose enough to take out the whole string. Here's the trouble: it's much easier to check each bulb on a string that is laid out on the floor than it is to try to follow a winding string of lights through a tree!

So, our tree stays half-lit. It only shows if you come into our house while it's switched on. If you keep your distance, you can't even tell. So, not too many people know. But I know. I thought about otherwise occupying my children (because of their tender ears!) for a while so I could go through the process of tracing the string through the tree and find the source of the darkness. It seems like it would be the only way to fix this problem. But, I decided against it. Partly because Christmas is over and the tree would come down soon anyway, but there's another reason.

See, this half-lit tree reminds me a little of myself. At this time of year when I'm prone to looking back over my year and assessing things, I have not been seeing things too brightly. To be honest, as I wrestled for most of the year with the health issues thrust upon us with our youngest, I realize that I am pretty worn out. I think I may even have a few "bad bulbs." Most people don't realize this because they can only see the part of me that shows--like the top half of our tree that shows through our picture window. If they keep their distance, they don't even know I'm only half-lit. But I know. In fact, I realize that rather than taking time to find the "bad bulb" on our Christmas Tree, my time would be better spent in looking for the places inside me that have come loose and need replacing or tightening. I think it will be a painstaking and tedious process, but well worth it.

I'd like to go into the New Year fully lit....

rhythmic healing

A few days ago, the kids and I were invited to visit a friend's dairy farm. It was quite an experience to view the process of feeding, milking and shifting the cows from one area to another.






A big highlight for the evening was feeding the calves. This dairy had a busy month with 16 calves born! The kids were thrilled to be able to feed the babies that were only 3-4 days old. One had just been born that morning!



My friend showed us some of the developments they were making and their arrangements to move the calves' quarters to higher ground because of the propensity for flooding in our area. It's all a huge amount of work.






The whole visit was wonderfully educational and I was pleased that the kids were able to learn some things first hand about this field.


I was able to learn some things first hand, too. See, my friend and her husband recently marked the second anniversary of the death of one of their sons in a hunting accident. Because it happened on their own property, the reminders have been frequent.















I wondered how they could have managed to keep up with all the work while going through the grieving process. My friend shared that, actually, the work was their saving grace. The rhythm of all they had to do every day was what kept them going....the constant, predictable, rote, neccessary work, provided just the outlet they needed to process the pain. Besides that, cows don't feel uncomfortable if you cry when you're filling their water trough!



Sometimes I find it hard to get past difficult issues in my life. I try this and I try that and it seems like I still have trouble processing my pain. Perhaps what I need is some pattern or routine in my life to bring the rhythmic healing I need. I don't think I'm quite up to the challenge of dairy farming, but there must be some other way I can add this into my life. Generally, adding something new to my life seems daunting. I feel busy and frantic enough. This feels different, though. This type of adding will, I think, result in less panic and more peace.

wax or clay?

Over the weekend, we listened to a CD that could currently make it on the radio station's, "Classic from the Attic" segment. As much as I hate to admit it, most of my favorite music falls into this category, but that's beside the point....

One set of lyrics really stood out to me:

"the same sun that melts the wax can harden clay,
the same rain that drowns the rat will grow the hay,
and the same wind that knocks us down--if we lean into it
will drive our fears away..."

Usually when I get a song lyric stuck in my head, it's some idiotic phrase that just about drives me insane, but this one was different. It just played over and over and made me consider its deeper meanings for me.

This year has been full of sun, rain and wind for my family. As we have worked through our youngest daughter's serious health issues, it has sometimes felt overwhelming.

This lyric is a poignant reminder of my "choice in the matter" of the trials I'm facing. I don't get to choose my trials or how they present themselves. I do, however, get to choose the way I'm going to face them. It's my choice to be wax or clay. I'm in charge of whether a difficult circumstance leaves me soft and pliable--moving in the way God directs. Or, I can allow myself to become hard, dried out, cracked and ugly--an immovable visual of despair.

Today, I'm choosing wax. I want to remain moldable in God's hands. And like candle wax, I want to provide the fuel for the Light to keep shining.

For my MOPS readers...

The Name Game

Cleopatra….Eleanor Roosevelt…Marie Antoinette….Julie Andrews….. I have been labeled with all these identities—that is in a game our family likes to play. We call it the name game. Each person gets a name taped to their back and then asks questions until they guess who it is correctly.

I do not enjoy this game nearly as much as the rest of my family. For me, it's too much like real life. Every time I turn around, I feel as if I have yet another identity taped to my back—and I have to ask all the right questions to figure it out. Some are easier than others. Diaper changer. I get that one…if it smells or leaks—change it! Some are harder. Bill payer. I don’t get how that one works out most of the time (although, by God’s grace, it somehow does!).

The thing about the identities stuck to me is that they all require me to do something. I am weary of doing. When do I just get to be? That’s one of the greatest things about coming to MOPS. I get to be a friend. I get to be a part of a discussion that is stimulating (with actual adults who never once pick their noses while they speak to me!). I get to be someone separate from my kids for a little while.

Maybe after I have those breaks at MOPS, I’ll be better able to figure out all my other identities. Maybe I’ll even look forward to trying out a new identity. Or maybe I will just stick with Cleopatra….imagine what I could do with that kind of power!

if there's a problem...

Yesterday, while leaving the mall, we decided it would be a good idea for everyone to make a bathroom stop. While drying my hands, I noticed a sign on the wall that read, "If you see a problem with our restroom, please notify one of our friendly sales associates." (italics mine) Okay...but how do I know which ones are the friendly ones? It's not as if they wear a special badge making them stand out from the other sales associates. So, I'm left to guessing which are which. (I'm also now wondering if a friendly associate who gets delegated to "bathroom duty" too many times ends up demoted to a surly associate!?)

I guess this is one reason God wants us believers in Jesus to let our lights shine--so if there's a problem in our area, others will naturally know who to go to. It's like wearing a "friendly associate" badge. Trouble is, too many times, people who need help can't recognize us as the ones who have what will help them. They are left wandering around, hoping someone will care about their problem. Meanwhile, we Christians wonder why we never seem to have the opportunity to share the hope we have within us with hurting people.

It seems I need to rethink some of the ways I reflect (or don't) Christ in my daily life. Not only do I want to please God by the way I live my life, but I want to be easy to spot as a source of help. I want those in need to be able to find me....if there's a problem...

Save it for the Shoeboxes

Today we are filling shoeboxes. Our family has been a big fan of the Operation Christmas Child shoebox ministry since 2005 when Rosalind caught a vision to organize a donation effort and filled 123 shoeboxes to send to needy kids around the world.

One of the reasons I love this service opportunity is how "hands on" and easy it is to do with kids--even very young ones. All of my kids love to pitch in and sort out the items for the boxes into categories before grabbing an empty box and selecting just the right things to put into it.

Their participation begins much earlier than Autumn. In fact, another of my favorite things about this ministry is how it has begun to teach my kids to simplify a little. All throughout the year as they receive party treat bags, free t-shirts, etc., they often opt not to keep it for themselves, but instead to tuck it away into the growing pile in our garage we keep for the filling of shoeboxes. The real joy comes in for them when as we sort the items and fill the boxes, they recognize their own donations to the cause. It's gratifying to hear them comment, "I know another kid without a lot will really enjoy this even more than I would," as they happily tuck it into a box.

I guess this is really what the Operation Christmas Child shoebox ministry does for my family--it helps us to live less selfishly. Making the choice to live selflessly has been a life-long (and never-ending) process for me. Giving my kids opportunities to practice this skill at young ages is priceless to me. Despite the fact that, just like any kids, my kids sometimes insist that they "need" this item or toy--I believe they really do see that, in comparison to so many others, they have so much. And when I see them cheerfully delay their own gratification and find real joy in giving away what could have been theirs to another child who needs so much, the gift they are giving seems as if it could hardly be contained inside a shoebox....