Category: Slices of Life

Compare-a-titus

If you’ve been a mom for any length of time and you’ve spent time in and about homeschooling circles, Bible studies, workshops, conventions, courtship talks, retreats, blogs in the last 3 years or so… etc., etc., you’ve no doubt heard, or been part of, conversations that left you with a case of comparatitus.  All those Titus2 groups… you may lament and despair.   Comparatitus happens — no matter your age, no matter your income, no matter your experience and, really, no matter your skills and abilities.  Comparatitus happens.

Some time back, a group of sisters were gathered and there was some back and forth lamenting the various skills and abilities one or another lacked.   The conversations meandered into areas of homemaking… babies… schooling… child-training.  I noticed one of the women not saying all that much — but her eyes conveyed a tender message and her tears, despair.  I observed that day and understood from that moment something I’ve never forgotten and that is when a group of sisters is sharing, there is (among *many* +/- things) a great potential comparing —  potential for discontent and for envy.  Comparatitus.  O, how we must face this and determine to nip it in the bud.

When we stand next to and compare ourselves with anyone we’ll likely fall into one of two categories and, perhaps, a third will follow.  We’ll either feel inept, inferior and sorely lacking whatever it is we think she has (self-pity), or we’ll feel superior, better-than, or self-confident (pride).  A third category we might fall into might take on many forms — but will stem from what I’m calling Compartitus.   We compare ourselves to a Titus woman = comparatitus.  We might say, O, I don’t do thus and such, I never accomplish this or that, I’m not able to do thus, I don’t have these or those, I don’t have x number of children, I have x number of children, since I don’t have x number of children I must not be_____, since she has x number of children, she must be________.

The conversations (mental or actual) may continue on… I wish I could have_____, then I’d be able to______, but since my______ doesn’t or won’t______, I can never be______or have______.  Like you.

Comparatitus can then get pretty heavy and… watch out now…

O, she thinks she’s so______, I mean, just look at what she_____. She always ____. I’ll never be as____ or ____.  I mean, because she____ and I’ve never  had the_____ and I cannot____ like she does.  And, besides, I only have____  ____, so I________, unlike her, because she has_______ and she always_____  and________. So, I can’t ever be _______ like her.

Comparatitus.

Comparing ourselves to an ideal… to another sister who seems to have it all together, who seems to always get the right stuff, say the right things, have the right friends, yada, yada, yada.  It’s such a dangerous spiral to get caught up in that thinking and in that talk.

Truth is, we’re not to compare ourselves to others — God didn’t create us to be someone else — He created us to be ourselves growing in grace to be like Jesus — for His glory.  When we compare and despair, we are rejecting God’s marvelous design *and* His provision for us.  When we compare and despair, we invite the enemy in to mock God (and our thoughts and actions determine how long he’ll stay and how much ground we’ll give the enemy).  We gasp and think, O, I didn’t mean to do that!  Really, none of us want to be found in that camp — surely.  That’s why we must not covet — we must be content with such things as we have. (Hebrews 13.5)

Comparatitus is dangerous… and unless we determine daily to take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ, we’ll succumb to it.  Maybe in a big way.

Titus 2 tells us boldly and plainly what we are (as Christian sisters) to do or to learn to do.  But, above all, we must be about the business of daily yielding our hearts to God, daily following Him and trusting in the promises of His Word — not comparing ourselves to others — but simply living in obedience to Him and His calling on our lives.  And He has individually called us — each one!  This is good news!  This is marvelous!

The cure for comparatitus is faith and trust: seeking to know and please the Lord.  We read in 2Timothy 2.15  “Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.”

Be done with that lesser thing!  Be done with comparatitus. (And, have a cheerful day)

May you always be blessed.

 

Christmas Letters

I love receiving Christmas letters each year — I read them — some, many times. I read them to the family and take the enclosed photos and hang them on our kitchen cabinet doors.  I love the letters for so many reasons — maybe for as many different reasons as the number of letters received each year.

I often wonder how many drafts some writers attempted before the resulting letter was complete.  I say this because I attempted to write our Christmas letter no less than a dozen times this year.  Each draft wordier (no surprise there!) than the previous — then I’d write a rather perfunctory letter — and it sounded like it. Then I wrote intending to add photo highlights. But then I thought of all the things I wouldn’t have space to include.  After each sort of attempt — some, far along in the process:  I think, no… no, that’s not it.  Click: Ctrl A.   Click: Delete.  Computer lid: click.   Lights out: click.

Maybe tomorrow, I’d ponder as I drifted off to sleep… maybe tomorrow… maybe tomorrow I will write in such a manner as to concisely convey,  in less than a thousand words,  the story of a year in the life of a family.  All I could see was the hand of the Lord over two extremely thankful parents in rocking chairs: observing the marvelous lives of nine very busy adult children living at home and more beyond.

And so, more treasured letters and cards have arrived… more beautiful photos are on the cabinet doors… more tears of joy have been shed for the changes and blessings and losses and accomplishments the Lord has given family and friends.  Melancholy tears of joy… and the passage of time.

The Christmas letter is finished.  It’s even been printed.  And it’s incomplete to convey all the things I wish I could’ve written, because there’s so much more the Lord has done and taught us this past year than time or space allowed.  But… I’m glad we have something to send and a photo to put with it.  I’m really grateful it mattered enough to enough of our family here to push to do what I know I’ll be glad we did.

♥

Acronyms

I was wondering about the origin of the word, Acronym.  And then got to thinking about different acronyms I regularly read.  A few, I couldn’t remember the actual meaning — I see some of them every day, but for the life of me, I cannot remember what they stand for.   In case you are also wondering: if you want to find acronyms and abbreviations you can look here.

This, from Dictionary.Reference.com:  Acronym: “1943 coinage from acro-, comb. form of Gk. akros “tip, end” (see acrid) + Eng. -onym “name” (abstracted from homonym; see name). The practice was non-existent before 20c. except in cabalistic esoterica and acrostic poetry.”

An acronym is: A Clever Reduction Of Names You Memorize — try it yourself. :o)

So, what does this have to do with anything?  Actually, I was folding some laundry and saw the word: woW inside a pair… and I began to laugh.  I thought of different acronyms for: woW.   You’re probably thinking I spend too much time folding laundry and have gone over the edge.  As I turned them over, I saw that it’s not woW, it’s: Mom.  Then thought about the word: Mom.   And then…

I went to fix a cup of tea.

Happy day to you: Women Ofthe Word!
And, blessings to you: Mothers Of Many: who Make Our Memories, Mold Our Minds, Make Our Meals and Mind Our Manners, Minimize Our Mistakes and ‘Muse Other Mothers. ♥

What if today was your last?

What if you knew today was the last day you’d be alive. What would you do — or how would you spend this day? It seems that most of the time people think of what’s on their “bucket list” — you know, the list of stuff people want to do before they die. I don’t know why the thought of death triggers an urgency to get out the bucket list to see what could be done. But I was thinking that, in reality, the bucket list is a pretty self-serving deal and pretty much adds nothing to the lives left behind.

I wrote the above and a few more lines for my Welcome Home page on Facebook this morning.  I’ve thought about it throughout the day as I’ve worked in and around our home.  I thought about it as I drove into town on an errand.  What if today was my last day to…

My thoughts drifted into different areas of life.  I thought of the different people in my life — my husband, my children, my parents, all the extended family, my church family and friends… I thought of all the intersecting circles of acquaintances and wondered what I’d do if I really knew today was my last day to see them, to talk to them, to thank them, to bless them… what if I never have another opportunity to see them again?

I think I’ll start a new journal — a thankfulness journal or a gratefulness journal or a gladness journal.  I don’t know what I’ll eventually call it, but I will start to write one and the title will come to me, I’m sure.  Maybe I’ll call it the blessing book.  Yes, that would be a perfect name — bcz I want to write all the blessings I can remember.  O, I’ve done this through the years in all my journals: recording whatever blessing is happening at the time — but I’ve never written a book of blessings — everything in one place.  It would be a perfect book to write bcz I also want to write down the things I want to give people — in terms of blessings.  I want to record the blessings I pray the Lord will work in specific individual’s lives.   So, it’ll be a book of what’s been done for me, what I’ve seen done for others and what I pray the Lord will work in people’s lives.

As an example, I will write the blessings of marriage — and then, specifically, my marriage to my husband.  Not just the wedding, but what God has done through the years bcz of this blessing.  I pray our children — each one — will know the blessing of marriage.  I pray our daughters will know the blessings of motherhood and I pray our sons will know the blessings of fatherhood.   I will write the different faith-builders — the valleys, the mountaintops and pray the Lord will do so in their lives as well.

If this were the last day I could live on the earth, I’d want to be careful to express my gratitude — I hope I wouldn’t want to see one more sunset, eat one more this or that thing, experience one more major accomplishment.   I hope I’d remember to tell each one of my children some specific way they’ve blessed me and how I pray for different and specific things for each of them.  I hope I’d remember to say important things instead of wanting to linger to accomplish more things.

If this were the last day I could live on this earth, I’d want it to be a profitable day for the memories of the people I love.  I wouldn’t want them to remember: On mama’s last day, she checked off another item on her bucket list.  No.  I’d want them to remember an encouraging word, a prayer, a joyful memory, a word of inspiration, a kiss of thanks.

I’d want my last day to be a blessing – so that when it was over, a fragrance would linger.

Abandoning Convictions

Time was when people could hold to some basic principles or live by personal convictions — decisions that may or may not be or may not’ve been popular — and yet they could sort of remain unspoken or undeclared.  Publicly, anyway.  Time was when people could hold to convictions and only a small circle of community would’ve been aware of the person’s or couple’s personal convictions.  Now… not so.

With the advent of email, internet chat-rooms and bulletin boards in the 90’s… e-groups list mail and then the explosion of “social media” such “personal convictions” become public declarations.  Write an article about it or write a book about it and, well, there’s the personal conviction in black and white for the whole world to read.  And comment on.

Not lost on me is the fact that our personal convictions can, in many ways, be seen and read of all men.  So, whether we say it or write it,  whether social media publicizes it or not, others can view what we believe or see what our personal convictions are by the decisions we make or the lives we live (this is especially true when our walk doesn’t match our talk).

The influence of our decisions or personal convictions isn’t limited to our circle of “friends” bcz our sphere of influence is much greater than our sphere of acquaintance. It’s amazing how reputation (good! or bad!) spreads.

Awareness or visibility of a personal conviction doesn’t assure accuracy though… other people’s opinions of us or their evaluation of what they think we think or what they think we believe is usually skewed by their personal experience or their convictions.

Their assessment may be further skewed because sometimes our children don’t hold to the same convictions as they mature  — thus, our convictions or beliefs are more critically scrutinized.

I read an article yesterday — didn’t have time to tweet about it, link it on FB or write something here — actually,  it’s probably a good thing, too.

The article is a NYT article written about a couple who once held to (and wrote a book about)  a particular belief  they’ve since abandoned —   conviction(s) they once embraced — they now denounce.

My mind immediately jumped to several conclusions: maybe they never really believed what they said they believed.  Maybe they got all caught up in the literary experience — I mean, we’re all so eloquent, so much cooler online.  Maybe they were following “a man” and not the Spirit of the Lord.  Maybe they were deceived on purpose (a few will catch that one).  Maybe they gave up too soon.  Maybe  they allowed little foxes to spoil the vine.  Maybe they…

I could easily get caught up in all that… maybe it was this, maybe it was that…

And then I stop and think that my concern for this couple is more for another decision they abandoned: the decision to abandon their vows.

Their children will pay a steep price for it.

 

Edit 4.21.2018
An article at Women of Grace [now formerly] Bethany & Sam Torode

 

A new start and an old dream

Have you ever had a dream plan or a dream idea you’ve  imagined  so long that you actually hope it never happens — for if it comes to pass, then you’ll no longer have the dream to dream?

We’ve had such a dream… well, maybe better said, we long ago had such a dream.  A dream that was actually a plan.  I never noticed that because so much time had passed and that dream never materialized, I’d stopped dreaming about it and I’d even quit hoping it would happen.

In fact, until recently, I hadn’t even realized that I’d sort of stopped dreaming about most anything future.  Not to sound morbid or even depressed, but I had just sort of stopped thinking: long — long as in long-term.  Not necessarily hopeless or negative — my failing to think long term had just become sort of routine.

Then it struck me that I’ve not stopped thinking long term for our family, meaning our children, rather I’d simply rarely thought long term about my own life or the life of my husband and our long term goals/future.

This realization came about  when I was recently filling out a weekly goals chart.   [As an aside: my husband has us all filling out weekly on a printed sheet: our goals, schedules/routines.   At the bottom of the monthly sheet, there’s a space for tracking 90 day goals and ‘year end’ goals.  This has been extremely helpful to give us a visual record of how we’re spending our time  — in addition, it’s been helpful not only for keeping all of us on track, but also to keep aware of what’s going on with each family member and all the various schedules.]

What made me realize I’d largely stopped dreaming  or long term planning was the content of my “goals” for each category.  They were so… hmmm, so blasé, so nothing — so trivial — not really goals at all.  They were simply logical or probably results of still existing or still being alive at the 90 day mark or the year-end point. But as far as intentional and new accomplishments, I hadn’t been recording anything that would require new skills, new plans, new effort, intention or: dreaming!

When this stark reality hit me,  I marvelled: when did I stop looking ahead?  When did I stop planning ahead — I mean really planning ahead?  When did I stop living long — thinking long term?  ‘Scared me to realize  I’ve just been sort of treading water — doing the needful things each day, fulfilling the tasks of the day — covering the basics with sort of a ‘check-box’ mentality.  And then, the sobering reality washed over me when I realized I’d stopped dreaming.

This sort of introspection inspired me to look — really look — at the faces around our table and consider the lives the Lord has given me to nurture.   Was I seeing them — I mean, really seeing them?  Was I seeing my husband — really seeing him?  And then I had to stop and ask: Lord, am I seeing You?  Am I really seeking You, Lord — truly seeking You?

Acts 2.17  And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams…”

I’ve been asking the Lord to give me a new hope, a new vision, a new: want to! Not content with status quo — to not be content with lesser things — and to not assume my time here is short or unimportant.

Well, as the Lord would have it… He was working this discontent in me to show me my thoughts, to reveal these shortcomings.  And, further, what I didn’t know was that a plan was in the works… and along with that,  He was, and is, once again showing me that He cares too much to leave me where I was/am and wants me to not only be done with lesser things, but to trust Him, to obey Him, to let Him lead — that my fruitful days are not over, that my remaining years are not insignificant. Then, to think long, to live intentionally… and to dream.

And so, with my husband… I’m beginning to dream.  I’ll tell you more later about God’s great provision in the midst of this new start.  It starts with an old dream.

 

Consider this…

You’re never as right as you think you are — and — you’re never as wrong as you think you are.  Deep down, I know this — and you probably know this, too.  But we, too often, get stuck dwelling on our dilemmas or grieving over our losses.  We get stuck, too, in maintaining our ‘rightness’ and fail to stop and consider our ‘wrong-ness’ about a matter.

And then someone comes along and after hearing part of the story,  illuminates the darkened or obscured side of the matter.  And then we see, much to our regret, that maybe, just maybe, we’ve been wrong about that matter after all.  Wise counsel is invaluable.  Impartial counsel, even more so.

If you remember this next week and you’ll be miles ahead of the pack.

But the pack just might still believe they’re more right than you.  Maybe they’ll even think that your wrongs are worse than their wrongs.  Worse yet, maybe they’ll convince you to believe that your wrongs are the worst wrongs. That last one’s usually the devil, by the way.  Most of us a pretty good at defending our right to be right.

Truth is, the answer is usually somewhere in the middle — but we’re usually too right or too wrong to see that.

When these different scenarios happen to me — or happen in my life — I don’t usually want to do the necessary.  The necessary is to look at the situation from their perspective.  And then to ask the question:  is there any truth in this? Usually I’ll find that, yes, there is a smidge of truth — just a smidge.  If that’s my finding, then I’ve learned that sometimes I’m being too prideful to objectively consider the problem.  I then need to ask a next question and it is this:  if they were me and I were them, what would I think? Hmmm?  Hmmm.  Perhaps I am wrong.  Okay, yes, I am wrong.

When I come to this revelation, then I know I’ve got to do whatever I can to make that situation right.   Regardless the outcome, I need to, so far as it depends on me, do whatever it takes to make the situation right.  I need to get myself in such a state as that I am not seeking to defend my rights or to point out their wrongs.  And, that’s so NOT easy sometimes — especially when we perceive we have a legitimate reason for our behaviour or that that person has some of their information wrong.

There’s always more to the story.  More to a situation than meets the eye.  And usually,  we’d both come to the same conclusions had we all the facts in the beginning.

In a houseful of various personalities, you’ll have lots of opportunities to practice these experiences — lots of occasions to instruct others about them, too.  I have found it’s so much easier to teach this to others than to experience this personally.   But I can relate these lessons to others, though, because I know them experientially.

Just remember:  You’re never as right as you think you are — and — you’re never as wrong as you think you are.

that guy

My husband and I were invited to a dinner at a large church in Seattle… it was sort of charity dinner or some such thing.  I don’t remember.  So, anyway, we were directed to specific tables with assigned seating.

Later, when I would tell my co-workers about that evening, I recall commenting that I didn’t know why in the world we were seated at that particular table.  There was a couple, seated across the table from Wes and me, who seemed like they were straight out of some parenting/outdoorsman/selectric typewriter magazine or something.  Everyone thing was going along fine, very cordial and pleasant.  Well, that was until that guy started talking.  And talking.

He continued talking through the whole meal, dessert and coffee.  He talked about his work, his hobbies, his children, his van, his vacations and his children.  But he didn’t talk about his children in a manner that was particularly complimentary or even to brag.  It was as though his comments all centered around what he thought about having children, about being a parent taking children on vacation, taking them to school, or getting them a bike or some such thing.  I, I, I, do this… I did that…

As we all sat there listening and eating dinner, every now and then someone would make a comment or ask a question regarding something this man had shared.  I remember cringing at one point — hopefully not visibly — that that was going to trigger another story or diatribe about his sometimes very inconvenienced life.  Uh-oh, yep… there he goes.

As the evening went on, he talked about the van.  The Vanagon van.  The Volkswagen Vanagon van.  You know we picked it up last year… Yada, yada, yada. It’s so great for trips, gets such great gas mileage, Consumer Reports, very economical,  even the wife [bleck: the. wife.] can drive it, it’s great for camping… you know, the last time we went camping, I had to…

I suppressed my comments.  I even suppressed laughter, because, by this time, the whole table of eight — well, seven of us, were sort of glazing over.  You know that gentle tilting of the head, with an occasional squint and nod?  Yep, that was us.  And, that’s what that evening was all about.

We returned home later that evening — with our two children.  In our not a Vanagon. And I recall I was sooooo thankful for the husband the Lord gave me.

Well, I finished sharing with my co-workers the next morning about the dinner the previous evening.  And I recall saying, I do not know why in the world we were seated at that table… it was a group of people with whom we had absolutely nothing in common.

In time I would look back on that evening and also back to my comment that we were seated with a group of people with whom we had nothing in common.  Not only would I grow up a lot.   But as the Lord would have it, I would bear more children — and drive a van. ~smile~

Eventually,  somewhere along the way, the Lord would bring that event to mind and it would become of much greater value to me — it would become very instructive as I would teach in women’s groups and retreats, etc.  You see, I began to realize that it wasn’t true that we had nothing in common with the others.  What really was true was the fact that none of the others (except maybe the man’s wife) had shared in that evening.  So, in reality, that guy didn’t have anything in common with us… the six spectators.  But it was because he didn’t attempt to connect with the others and left no room for others to connect.

And so, here’s some of the instruction I received from that guy (though my mother had already told me these things): Don’t tell everyone everything you know.  Not everyone wants to hear everything you know.  Listen to people, you don’t always need to be the one doing the talking. Everyone has something to say.

So, I thank my mother for giving me that advice through the years and I thank that guy for the practical and vivid application. That experience instructed me, from that point on,  to be determined that, so long as it depended on me, such an evening not be repeated, to attempt to include everyone in  conversations when seated at a table like that,  to ask questions and to look for ways to draw out the more quiet ones — everyone has something to say — something worth hearing.

Though we never saw him again, I’m thankful to be still gleaning from the lessons I learned that night from that guy.  I wish I could say I don’t fall into the trap of talking too much or too long… but I’m working on it.  I’m just always thinking and thinking of things to say and to write.  Maybe it’s good there’s not enough time for either one.

 

April Fool’s Day

Well, I’m thinking that no April Fool’s Day would be complete without first agreeing  with the Psalmist:

The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God. They are corrupt, they have done abominable works, there is none that doeth good.”

And then, including an admonishment from the Proverbs:
He that walketh with wise men shall be wise: but a companion of fools shall be destroyed.”  –13.20

April Fool’s Day has long been a day of silly tricks and pranks at our house — the one day a year that shenanigans can be played and everyone’s on the lookout for what they might find next.

Early on we had to make some “house-rules” for this day so that no one would get hurt, waste food, break anything or cause anything to break.  You know, those unintended consequences of “fun.”  It’s almost always those unintended consequences that get us, don’t they?!  Those things that come back to nip our heels or pay us back when we least expect.

So, we made rules early on — and with three sets of boys, plus one, we’ve had quite a host of hilarious AprilFool’s Day pranks.  As I shared on my Facebook page, the first son still holds the records for ingenuity!  He seemed to pull out all the stops when it came to creatively playing jokes — but, amazingly, they were always within the established boundaries — and very funny.

The boundaries were set early on when someone put salt in the sugar and sugar in the salt.  One trade wasn’t so bad — the other was.  Another time, when one put green food colouring in the milk, no one would drink it — so, that’s when we decided: pranks could not wreck/waste food.

Another time, one took all the hinges off the doors… no one ever got hurt, but with so many littles at the time, we thought perhaps someone could get hurt, so: no dangerous tricks.  They were careful, from then on, to do creative and clever tricks.

So, I’ll tell you about one such AprilFool’s Day… quite some time ago.  I should have known there was going to be a whole lot of surprising when I walked down the hall to see that everything from the living room (except the piano) was stacked in the kitchen — a room that was not all that large!  How he moved everything in there, I still marvel.  And,  I mean: everything.  I honestly laughed so hard… seeing just the kitchen table and chairs in the middle of the living room.

Okay, one more.  Another AprilFool’s Day… again, I knew I was in for a real fun time when I opened my bedroom door and the other two bedroom doors shut!   And, as I walked down the hall I noticed the living room lamp was off, so I switched on the light – still no lamp-light. I looked around the table to see that the cord was unplugged – so I plugged in the lamp using the cord that looked to me as if it had simply fallen out of the socket.  Well, that cord was attached to a “boombox” that was situated under the table.  Omy – what a shock when that music was blaring!!  I couldn’t unplug that cord fast enough!! :o)    Then, I went into the kitchen to fix breakfast — where discovered that the faucet didn’t work, so I opened the doors to reach under and turn on the water… only to see the wall phone had been placed under the sink with a note taped to it:  “Time to call the plumber! the note read.  Well, when I did finally get the water turned on, it was a shocking experience — for the sprayer had been taped down and sprayed water straight out into the kitchen.  I was laughing so hard I couldn’t instantly turn off the water.  We all laughed and laughed.  I think that little sprayer trick was played many times that day.

And that same sprayer trick was played here in the kitchen today by children who weren’t even alive in the time of the above stories.

It’s funny how life goes… it sort of repeats and repeats itself.  Or so it seems, sometimes.

They’re not the only ones to play a few tricks.  Stretch-tite plastic wrap stretched evenly over the toilet bowl is virtually undetected.  At first.  The first time I ever did that was a very long time ago when I was working as a cook for a Christian school & daycare… and the men’s bathroom was where the toiletbowl wrapping happened.  When the pastor of that large church came into the lunchroom… I was told he was laughing as he shared with some of the other employees about the AprilFool’s prank.  I remained very busy cooking.  I don’t know if I will ever meet him again, but if I do, I’ll apologize. ;o)