Second, though this may not be helpful, you’re not alone and your situation or your  “dilemma”  is not unusual.   The devil may [...]]]> Dear Sister,
First, I want to thank you for writing — for it is in acknowledging our condition and in seeing our need that we can best affirm and apply, by the grace of God, the help or teaching we receive.

Second, though this may not be helpful, you’re not alone and your situation or your  “dilemma”  is not unusual.   The devil may attempt to tell you otherwise, but what you’ve written is common to women who both come home from the “work-force” *and* who’ve been trained otherwise.  The “trained otherwise” is the main problem — not the new daily routine of being home and not out of the home.  That will be the easy part once you accept the calling and seek to define and live it.  You will define it as you go — and you will live it as you define it.

The “it” is the high calling of being a keeper at home… the main tree of motherhood.  Incidentally, motherhood doesn’t relegate a woman to never leaving the home or never having “outside” work — there are likely seasons where one or both of these will happen — but it is my understanding that the season of child birthing, nurturing and training necessitates that mothers stay home to heed the calling the Lord has placed on her life and carry out and do these things.  Radical feminists will argue the point.  But I will continue to defend the Scriptures that call a mother to be a keeper at home, to love her husband and her children, to be discreet, sober, good, chaste, obedient to her husband — seeking all of these — that the Word of God be not blasphemed.

Psalm 113.9  He maketh the barren woman to keep house,
and to be a joyful mother of children. Praise ye the LORD.

As to the question of not knowing what to do.  Here’s an exercise that might be helpful for you.  It will take you some time, so you might print this off so you can address it when time allows.  Here is the exercise:

• List all the outcomes you desire (so far as it depends on you) for your life?
• What kind woman do you want to be remembered as being?
• As for your walk with the Lord, how do you see that worked out in your daily life?
• How can you work these attributes into your daily life?  What do you need to implement?
• As for your behaviour and character what specific qualities to you most highly value?
• As a wife?  As a mother?  As a companion?
• What sort of atmosphere do you seek as a description of your home?
• The appearance of your home?  The flow and routine of your homelife?

You may never have had the instruction to be a “godly woman” or a “keeper at home” or a “homemaker” or a “mother.”  But I think you might agree that you do have an idea what this looks like or a dream of what it might be like.  That’s what I’m asking you to consider — that’s what I’m asking you to ponder as you go through the days ahead.  Yes, you may not know what to do – exactly – today, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have any idea.  You may not know the paints, the colours, the hues, the brushes and blades used in painting a portrait, but you’ve seen the portrait or, at least, you’ve imagined it.

Yes, you may have been “instructed otherwise ” and, therefore, you need to spend some time reevaluating, rethinking, reorganizing your thoughts about motherhood and keeping a home — that’s what that “exercise” above is meant to address.  You may be mourning the loss of time — the robbing of your time and purpose as a wife and mother.  Don’t let the devil deceive you that it’s too late.  If you’re still living, it’s not too late.  Don’t ever forget that.  The devil will deceive you to believe otherwise.

That crafty devil’s playbook is very thin — he doesn’t possess many tools or ideas — so he plays them over and over and over again.  The longer you live, the more you’ll see this.

May you always be blessed.

Time passes and memories fade — and then, [...]]]> Through the years we gather and carry with us so many experiences and acquaintances.  All of these are mingled among the successes and failures in the different testings and affirmations of faith.  I marvel: the handiwork of the Lord;  I marvel that He never misses a thread.  Things I think are wasted, things long forgotten, prayers and petitions, praises and disappointments… God’s still holding all the threads of these things.

Time passes and memories fade — and then, seemingly by chance, an old friendship is rekindled, a memory is brought to mind, a photograph sparks thoughts of an event rarely remembered.  But God remembers… His memory never dims and He’s not constrained by time or recollection.  The threads, unseen or unknown to us, continue to be woven by His gracious and skilled Hands.

I’m reminded to not think He’s forgotten or that life’s experiences have little meaning.  I’m reminded that all my yesterdays have tomorrows.  The seeds sown in years past may seem to by lying dead in fallow ground… but in time I will see what became of those seeds — some carelessly, some intentionally planted in different seasons of my life.

A long distance phone conversation with a friend last week seems to have opened a floodgate of memories that leave me longing for the early years, smiling at the thought of the babies — now men and women — with babies of their own.    And then, another surprise, a phone call and plans to spend some extended time together with dear old friends.  Surely we’ll be reminiscing and talking over days gone by when we meet — I can hardly contain my excitement!  Were that not enough, and surely not by chance, another old friend posted a couple of photos on Facebook… ah, the endearing faces,  photos of little boys — now men — our first two sons.  This led to my husband (who very rarely ever even logs on to Facebook) posting some photos of babies and little children… old photos!  Threads of connection… bringing life circles around again.

The threads of photos and conversations seem to connect us to our past like nothing else — these are the good threads — the sweet threads. How sweet to think the Lord is holding all these threads together, that not a time is wasted or lost — even though we don’t keep tract of or keep tying threads.

There seems to be no lonelier place than the den of rejection — few trials more painful and few trails more [...]]]> “Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations: That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ:”  –1Peter 1.6-7

There seems to be no lonelier place than the den of rejection — few trials more painful and few trails more uncertain.  And for us, as Christian women – wives and mothers, the enemy is at his fiercest when we give in to despair or, worse, self pity in the face of rejection.   If we’re not tempted to retaliate, then we’re likely tempted to be defensive.  If we don’t give in to self pity, then we’re probably headed down any of a number of other destructive roads — either literally or mentally.

Rejection is happening all over.  It seems the devil is pulling out all the stops in his prowling around to see whom he may devour — and a devourer he is (or seeks to be!).

In a recent conversation, comments were being made regarding the number of marriages undergoing strife or, worse, separation and the incredible number of people in conflict in some manner or another.  And I observed that never in my life have I witnessed such damage in homes, friendships, marriages, churches… not to mention the moral decline of society all around us.  It’s staggering.  It’s distressing.

So what do we do?  What should our response, our reaction or action be regarding these things?

Puzzled, I recall the scripture that tells me to rejoice.  Rejoice?  Rejoice at rejection? Rejoice that things are falling apart all around me?  Rejoice that there is so much division and squabbling?  Rejoice that there are so many messes? Rejoice at all the loss? Rejoice at the decline and decay?

Rejoice: I am to rejoice and be exceeding glad.  Not at the rejection. Not at the particular mess.  Not at the sin or the gossip or the slander.  Not at the loss.  I am to rejoice in my Saviour.  I am to greatly rejoice even when I am in heaviness through manifold temptations.

He has made a way… He is the way. I need to remember this. I need to live this.

1Peter 4.12  “Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you:”

2Peter 2.9  “The Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly out of temptations, and to reserve the unjust unto the day of judgment to be punished:”

I reminded in John 16.22 that no man can take my joy from me.  He is my joy.  And that I am the only one who can determine to take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.  The devil only dwells in and dictates my thoughts if I let him and if I entertain his devices and his intent to destroy.

I cannot — I must not — do that, for I am to:  (1Thessalonians 5.16)  “Rejoice evermore!” I am to “Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, rejoice!”  –Philippians 4.4

Ultimately, I know that I know that I know:  I want to please the Lord — I know I want strong faith and I know I want to honour Him.  So my response to trials and testings and temptations must be filtered through 1Peter 1.6-7 so that I will be: found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ.

I posted this @ Welcome Home on Facebook… but it’s so important that I thought I’d share it here.  I’ve been posting brief year-end countdown thoughts on Facebook @ Welcome Home.  In the new year I hope to post daily home notes and verses for encouragement.

It’s interesting that the poem should come in the  mail today… as I have been thinking of several different ones who have ‘vacant chairs’ at their tables [...]]]> I’ve entitled this blog entry The Vacant Chair — a title that’s not original with me, but the title of a poem I’ll add to this post in a moment.  The poem was written by a dear saint, the husband of a precious friend who passed into heaven earlier this year.

It’s interesting that the poem should come in the  mail today… as I have been thinking of several different ones who have ‘vacant chairs’ at their tables again this year.  I think of the mothers and fathers who stand at the glass watching for the wayward son or daughter, hoping he or she will be home to occupy his or her chair at the table this year.  I think of the families who won’t have a baby to hold, a parent to care for, a friend to visit at Christmastime… more empty chairs.  I think of friends who have a vacant womb — bruised heart this Christmastime.

I think of families who will visit and look into the vacant, dim eyes of loved ones with vacant minds — long ago leaving vacant chairs.  I think of couples with vacant chairs of children they never bore or only hold in their hearts. I think of those whose choices keep them afar off — who’ll not be home again this year — vacant chairs.  I think of those whose husbands are off fighting in a war they never wanted to fight — the family tables with a vacant chair again this year.  I think of friends or family who’ve moved away and they’ll miss sitting in the chairs around a familiar table this year.  I think of mothers and dads who’ve married off a son or daughter this past year — a sweet sadness may wash over them — as they set tables with fewer chairs.  And there are innumerable other scenarios… innumerable empty chairs.  Vacant chairs will tell many stories… some, only in the heart.

The Vacant Chair was written by a loving, faithful husband whose eyes are growing dim, but whose memory is sweet and keen: for a wife who lived such a remarkable, long, full life — occupying the chair beside him for some sixty-seven years.

VACANT CHAIR

I love you dear with all my heart,
True love was ours to share,
God has called you to His Home,
I’m left with a vacant chair.

I think of things I’ve done today,
My toil and my care;
I praise the Lord you’re free from pain,
But I’m left with a vacant chair.

The day will come, I’ll join you there,
In Heaven, bright and fair,
We’ll praise the Lord, with all our heart,
And there’ll be no vacant chair!

Paul R Turnidge

God has shown Himself wonderful to me. Every day I am amazed how He directs my path. Sometimes I look through my windshield of life and wonder where I’m going, then I look in the rear view mirror and see how far I have gone,  and amazingly exclaim, “Surely the Lord has led me.”"

I’m looking ahead to the winter when the [...]]]> As the fruit and nuts and leaves fall from the trees around our yard, I can’t help but notice the poignant reminder that our lives, too, have seasons — and they change.  As I reflect on this, I am reminded that the most fruitful season may not appear to be the currant one – even though it may appear so with the fruit that is dropping into the baskets at this time.

I’m looking ahead to the winter when the trees have no leaves or blossoms or blooms and I’m praying this time will be the most fruitful of all.

Fruitful:
a: yielding or producing fruit.
b: conducive to an abundant yield.

So, I’m in prayer that the Lord will continue to shape my life that it will be conducive to yielding abundant fruit.  It may not seem like it from season to season –or even in the moment– but that’s where the being “conducive to an abundant yield” comes in — and that’s where prayer and fasting/waiting on the Lord comes in.

The prunings, the waste, broken limbs, the honeybees, the drought, the water, the shade and, yes, the fruit of my yesterdays all give me great hope for tomorrow.

I’m thankful for the pictures the Lord continually presents me… as He often speaks to me in or through the things He’s put in or taken out of my life.  I’ve seen our children and grandchildren swing from the branches of the willow tree outside our bedroom window and I consider the strength of a tree.  They’ve eaten the fruit of the trees in the garden… I consider the value of a well tended tree.  They’ve seen years where there was no fruit to gather in the baskets… sobered at the value of a well tended tree.

Sometimes there’s no one to gather the fruit — no one to appreciate the fruit… and it falls to the ground and becomes part of the soil.

Our family had been at the Oregon Coast for a family reunion; Timothy had just returned from Ghana, West Africa.  He was sick and getting worse by the [...]]]> Though in many ways it seems longer, it was a year ago today that the Lord gave us a great gift in the form of a miracle.  We know it was by the grace of God that Timothy, who was deathly sick with cerebral malaria, awoke from a coma.

Our family had been at the Oregon Coast for a family reunion; Timothy had just returned from Ghana, West Africa.  He was sick and getting worse by the day.

After several days and medication for what was thought to be Typhoid, his condition was grave, he was so thin and frail; hardly responsive at that point: we knew Timothy needed to get to a hospital right away.  Clearly, the medication he was taking was not addressing his sickness.  It was there after some initial treatment and many liters of fluids that Timothy was slipping into a coma and the doc in ER of Samaritan Hospital began the transfer plans to have Timothy airlifted to OHSU in Portland.  I wrote the story of this whole miracle — you can read it here.

I don’t really know why I snapped the photo (below) with my cell phone that day… I guess it was perhaps a thought that it would be my last opportunity.  I don’t know.

More from my journal that day: “I cannot be bitter should it be God’s plan to take Timothy.”  I read a quote that afternoon inside Timothy’s Bible, “The sovereignty of God is a precious thing if you’re on the right side of it.”

Later, I wrote, "It's the middle of the night... the waiting room looks strewn with sleeping bodies -- all like me, waiting for news, waiting for the morning or maybe the mourning... It just struck me as the nurse told me to come back in 45 minutes, Timothy might not make it.  We might leave here alone -- without him.  The thought leaves me unable to breathe."

It's a bright and sunny day... it's now a year later.  Timothy doesn't remember much of that week, very little of the time in the hospital after he awoke and now, so much has transpired from that time to this.

Timothy has once again traveled to Mexico, to cities in the States for the gospel tent meetings and just returned from Ghana, West Africa.  There is so much work to do, so many who need the gospel... the Lord is not yet finished with his servant, Timothy.  I'm so thankful.

But I also know that the Lord is in [...]]]> To my precious children… how strange it is to be apart from you this day.  How interesting that the Lord would, in His wisdom, goodness and mercy, have us to be a million miles apart on this day.  But as I have held you in my heart from the day you were born, so also, I hold you in my heart this day.  And I am missing you terribly.

But I also know that the Lord is in the details, having orchestrated this whole trip, this is His doing and it is marvelous in our eyes.  I genuinely rest in complete joy and assurance that you are in the mighty hand of the Lord: that He has blessed, redeemed, equipped and filled you, each one with His Holy Spirit and that none can pluck you out of His hand.  I am comforted that you are competent beyond my comprehension and blessed beyond my greatest  hope and vision for your lives.  I am, above all women, most blessed.

I pray that I might be to you even a particle of the great joy and blessing you are to me.  I pray to be even a glimmer of the hope you are in my life and I pray to be even a shadow of the good things the Lord has done, and will do, in and through you.

So, this mother’s happy day 2011, I ache missing you — often picturing each of your beautiful faces.  And I once again thank you for the great privilege it is and has been to bear you, to care for you, to pray for you, to know you and to look forward to the days ahead for each one of you.

Thank you all for your patience with me, for your forgiveness for my many failings and shortcomings – for my shortsightedness and distractions.   I sincerely thank you for your forgiveness.  Thank you for the encouragement you have been both for me and to me.  Thank you for bearing with me in the recent past as choppy waters have flooded my life/our lives, actions and thoughts.  I’m grateful to you, each one, for standing with me all these years… but most of all for the honour it is and has been to be your mama.

I praise the Lord for the opportunities of your lives… and for the undeserved, immeasurable and inestimable blessings in mine.

And… yes, you can go open your gifts.  God bless you more and more. Happy mother’s happy day to each one of you.

with love and thanks,
mama

And ye know in all your hearts and in all your souls,
that not one thing hath failed of all the good things
which the LORD your God spake concerning you;
all are come to pass unto you,
and not one thing hath failed thereof.