what’s a mother to do (part 2)

(This is part 2 of the post What’s a mother to do?)

Remember, you are a book that’s being written every day… and your husband and children are reading it.  Your story, in part, is defining their lives.  Let the Lord be the author and finisher of your faith.

You may resent (as many women do) that no one ever told you the truth about marriage, wives, motherhood and being a keeper at home.  You may also resent that you were persuaded to pursue a career or led to believe that a “professional” career is of more worth than “just hanging around the house all day for the rest of your life.”  And, given that scenario, I just might agree.  But motherhood — true motherhood — and being a keeper at home isn’t at all about “just hanging around the house all day…”   That’s another reason for the “exercise” above.   True motherhood is a God-given, God ordained gift — this has to be, and become to you (and me), more than rhetoric — more that pious words.  This is truly — truly — a very high calling.

And so there’s another thing I’d like to suggest is that you clean the slate — clean the slate of bitterness, resentment, disappointment you may be feeling toward your husband, mother, family and friends who instilled the “otherwise” teachings in your life.  That regret or even anger against people or things will not allow you to move ahead in the way the Lord has planned for you.  His plan is infinitely greater than you can ask or imagine.

Yes, motherhood and being a keeper at home is a cycle of dailies — and, yes, the dailies are *so* daily.  But they are the rudimentary things God uses to refine us.  They are the building blocks of character and training we need and we need to instill in our children.  They are the stuff  of love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and self-control.  And all of these things give motherhood its glory and define its purpose — and they are the things we must yearn for and  seek in and through our lives and the lives of our children.

You may have been trained otherwise, but you’ve got something going for you that can dispel that training and replace it… you’ve got a picture of what you want (and what you don’t want).   The title of that picture is haven and time.  You know you want a haven for your husband and children.  Stop for a moment and ponder what that looks like.  You might keep that word in mind as you fill out some of your answers to the questions above.  The second word, time, is also important to remember as one of the priorities you already know you have (or want to have).  You want to have time for your children.  It, too, will be important to remember when answering the questions.  How will you spend your time in order to have or make time available for your children.  I think you might also be implying that you want your children to remember you as their mama who always had time or made time for them.  This will be important as you set up the routines of your day.

Schedules are very hard to implement and maintain in a home,  but routines — daily set routines — priorities are the set activities of each day; these are things we see that we accomplish each day.  You know the phrase goes something like:  Fail to plan = a plan to fail.  So, that being said, start today… take a step of faith.  Begin with prayer:  Lay all this before the Lord, lay proverbs 14.1)down your life before Him… give Him your sorrows and regrets; give Him your plans and desires; yield to His calling on your life.  If you will commit your way to the Lord, He will direct your steps9.  I know this to be true — I’ve lived this and for me this is not rhetoric but truth — a wise woman builds her house….  When I deviate from this, I fall. I literally fall and utterly fail.  And a house comes down with the foolish mother.  I know this personally and truly — thus I press on and part of my calling is to tell other mothers the truth, to show other mothers that the Lord is Faithful and True and His Word does not fail.

I hope this will help you today… I will think on this further and will write to you again.  You know, the very fact that you wrote tells me you’re off to a wonderful start.  I guess I’d add:  take in the Bread of the Word, eat well, plan well, listen to praise music – not jarring music, get sunshine, seek every single day to find good things… good things to say, good things to think, good things to remember, good things to do for your husband and children.  Their future (and yours!) really and truly depends on decisions you make today and every day.

This may, at first blush, seem harsh — but let the thought sink down in your ears — I say all of these things today at the door of my 34th wedding anniversary. I’ve experienced the fruit of good and bad decisions — good and bad branches and vines.  You know,  good and bad seeds both grow — that’s really a hard reality to grasp and to face — but it’s the truth.  When I’ve neglected things, been distracted over things, been lazy or careless, lost my focus or given the bulk of my attention to things that didn’t pertain to the task at hand, the seeds planted in those times have yielded bad fruit — weeds — noxious weeds —  branches and bitter fruit that needed to be pulled, pruned, burned and/or destroyed… even now, I must be vigilant to watch for roots of bitterness or selfishness of those times and even in these days and take the necessary — painful, humbling and difficult — steps to cut them out.  When I’ve cultivated the soil and have planted good seed, when I’ve invested and have been eager, working diligently, heartily, cheerfully, purposefully and graciously, the blossoms have been fragrant, the branches strong and the fruit sweet.  That’s what I pray will be the result of your life: sweet fruit.

May you always be blessed.

that book

In the arena of hot topics in Christian circles since the first of the year, that book is getting a lot of press.  It’s been common to hear, have you read the book yet?  Or, what do you think about the Driscoll’s new book?  Ironically, it’s as if it’s the first time such a book’s been offered in Christian circles — though it certainly is not.  I remember similar discussions in the late ’70’s regarding a book with marriage revving suggestions totally for women.  But this new book is so now, and it’s so cool to be so now. Pretty much everything else is so last century. Except Facebook.

Believe me, I have no doubt that much of what the Driscoll’s discuss in the book will be helpful. In days gone by, I’d probably have more to say than I will presently about the book — but I think I’d purposely avoid discussing online the most referenced chapter — the one that’s undoubtedly giving the book the most press.   I wouldn’t avoid it for reasons that might first come to mind.  I’m not afraid to tackle sensitive subjects — I mean, my previous blog entry deals with the most sensitive subject I know.  But somehow it seems to me that to belabour the obvious would be just that.  The continual references to Chapters 6 and 10, in particular, both online and in conversations confirm to me the curiosity and sometimes insatiable appetite for the salacious.  However, as believers, propriety must take precedence over curiosity and indulging in questionable communication must be guarded.  Much wisdom is needed for drawing the line.   We’re exhorted in Scripture to be careful with our speech and behaviour — I’m referencing different verses in Ephesians 5.  I think we often focus on and  spend time contemplating the latter portion of that chapter and not as much time in the early verses of chapter 5 — we’d be wise to spend some more time here.

For now, I’d  just like to link to Tim Challies and his discussion of the book and the talk it’s generating… he’s doing a fine job addressing the matter and the comments — additionally, I’m sure glad he’s including Doug Wilson’s wise counsel.  Both thoughtfully address issues while retaining sensibilities and decorum.

The rest of the story

I’m going to write a part of the rest of the story today.  You know how Paul Harvey used to close his commentary — just before that seemingly eternal pause before he’d say (or seem to say it in the form of a question):  good. day.; he’d say: And now you know… the rest of the story.

Nearly 6 years ago I wrote a letter to the father who raised me… the man who married my mother, adopted me (and my brother) and two years after that, he took me down a road that would, on many levels, totally change my life.  I would eventually receive salvation in Jesus and I would marry and move far from that home and decades would pass.   The letter I sent him was returned to me.  It was not the first letter I wrote to him, nor the first to be returned.  It was, though, the first letter I wrote to him in which I detailed the many painful events of sexualabuse and sincerely sought to offer him my forgiveness (even though, generally forgiveness is given to a repentant person) and prayer for his salvation & faith in Jesus.  I posted the contents of that letter online [3/19 edit, the website: imtellingonyou . org is no longer active] when it became apparent to me that he would not read mail I sent him.  Later I would send him a postcard with the address for the letter.  Though others acquainted with him responded, he never responded.    With the passage of time I found myself wondering how I would react if/when he did respond.  I recall gasping one day, a year ago, when a business acquaintance of his emailed me — and through some exchanges, I would learn that there were other people seriously and negatively affected by the man I once called, Daddy.  I wondered how I would react if he called.  I wondered how I’d react were I to hear news of his death.

Now, I want to say that I recognize that whenever a person tells their story, they’re telling someone else’s story, too — and some stories are painful.  Some are intended to inflict pain.  This blog entry is the former and most certainly is not intended to be the latter.  Through the years I’ve come to realize that God has used my life, my experiences and my candidness to relate to other women, to encourage other women and to offer hope — encouragement that there is hope and healing in Jesus, hope that others have passed this way, too, and hope that there are brighter tomorrows after tragedy, loss, rejection or failure.  I have experienced all of these to some degree or another and I know there is hope and joy and life on the other side of mountains and valleys.  There is  hope in Jesus.

Over the years I’ve wondered how I would react to the news of the death of the father who raised me.  You know… I always thought I’d be relieved.  I always thought I’d have “closure” (whatever that is).  But whatever I thought, I didn’t think I’d have the reaction I did.  And, I’d never have believed I’d respond as I did  — I responded by calling his wife ( this is not my own mother, to be clear, he and my mother were divorced 33 years ago) — to simply ask if he had been redeemed by the blood of the Lamb.

I had the wonderful privilege to join my husband on a business trip last week — a trip I now know was part of the masterful handiwork of the Lord.  I needed that time.  I marvel that my husband would have a week of work in the winter in a distant location and I would have the opportunity to spend the week walking and talking with one of my oldest, dearest and most loyal friends.  I believe it was marvelous preparation for me as I would receive a couple of letters first thing the next morning after returning from that business trip.  Many, many times in my life I’ve experienced an unusual or strange working of the Lord — God’s remarkable work or provision — just after or just before a trial.  Never the same work… but always unmistakably the work of the Lord.

Such was the case this past week.  The subject line of both email letters was the same… the  name of the father who adopted me as a little girl — the man who, for twelve years, I called: Daddy.   I was not prepared for what I would read.  The first I read, was in the form of a sort of arresting statement.  The second, a question.  Both would convey he had died — kicked the bucket was the phrase one writer employed to tell me the news.  Not surprising, really, for that man had experienced great loss, as a business professional, years ago.  The passage of time hadn’t softened his opinion nor dimmed his view of the man.   The other letter would contain the obituary — the incomplete obituary.  In death, as in life, truth was covered over.  I should not have been surprised, but I was.

In my letter to him six years ago, I wrote:  You’re where you are today because I never told on you.  The letter didn’t garner the reaction I hoped it would — and news of his death didn’t bring the consolation I thought it would.  I’m still glad I wrote the letter.  I’m sorry he never answered it.  I’m glad my story has given so many women the courage to face their abuser.  I’m sorry I’ll never know if the abuser repented or if he spends eternity in heaven or in hell.  Child sexualabusers die. Memories of child sexualabuse does not die.

I never thought I’d react the way I have.. to the news of The Rest of The Story.  You might think I’m wishing ill on him — But I assure you, I am not.  God’s worked such a work in my heart that I sincerely hope that, in the end, he chose eternal life — that in the end he chose Jesus — though I doubt that was the end of what seemed to be such a pitiful man, I sincerely hope that  salvation was the rest of the story for him.

 

a friend’s anniversary letter

I received this letter… and it’s too sweet to not share with you.
I console myself with this letter — that perhaps one day I will
have a mind to write such a letter. I loved his wife, Florence, even
giving our last baby, our daughter Amelia her name as a middle name…
and I added “Joy” to it because Florence brought me great joy and encouragement.
Amelia bears the name well… as she does for the other woman she’s named after.
Although, I never called Mrs. Pais: Amelia, it was, in fact, her name.

Paul Turnidge writes:

Hello All, and a blessed year ahead.

A year ago today, Florence began a new day in Heaven. By this time she
has joined with Peter, James and John, with Lydia, Mary and all the
friends that have gone there ahead of her. I’m sure she has probably
gotten the gals together and said, “Let’s start a Sisterhood.”

Every day I praise the Lord that she is in Heaven enjoying herself rather
than having to be in a nursing home, sitting in a wheel chair wondering
why she can’t get it going.

Somebody sent me the following prayer:

THE SENILITY PRAYER :
Grant me the senility to forget the people
I never liked anyway,
The good fortune to run into the ones I do, and
The eyesight to tell the difference.

My biggest problem is that I can’t think of anybody I don’t like and my
eyesight is so bad I couldn’t tell the difference anyway.

Hope you’re finding this an encouraging year, and it’s wonderful to know
the Lord never leaves or forsakes us. (Hebrews 13:5)

God bless you all,

Paul

Let them understand the pattern

Throughout this past week, I’ve been steeped in thinking of patterns and pieces and things fitting together and how God creatively and masterfully gathers pieces of our lives from here and there — new and old — and fits them together according to His pattern.

Ezekiel 43.10-11  Thou son of man, show this house to the house of Israel that they may be ashamed of their iniquities; and let them understand the pattern. And if they are ashamed of all that they have done, show them the form of the house, and its pattern, and the goings out thereof, and the comings in thereof, and all its figures, and all its descriptions, and all its paintings, and all its laws; and write it in their sight that they may keep the whole form thereof and all the ordinances thereof and do them.

It’s interesting how we all tend to, at once, demand and reject patterns and forms.  I was thinking about this earlier when I was mulling over different forms and patterns I’ve used through the years for quiet time and Bible study.  Using forms, we might find ourselves feeling spiritually dry and quiet times might seem to become rote performances — then we might seek to be free from form and we may find ourselves floundering and then possibly ignoring the Word or prayer.  Seasons of these cycles repeat and we often find ourselves looking for the old ways… what was I doing, saying, thinking, reading, etc., etc., when I was daily walking with the Lord?  What gave me faith, understanding and trust?  What pattern had the Lord worked in my life?

The following is not meant to be a “form” per se, but as I read passages of Scripture and come to a portion that arrests my attention in some way or another, I have in mind any one, or many, of these questions.

  • is there a praise I can give the Lord?
  • is there a trespass I need to confess and restore?
  • is there a sin issue to confess and repent?
  • is there a promise I can claim as my own?
  • is there a command for me to obey?
  • is there a blessing for me to remember?
  • is there a failure from which I can learn?
  • is there a victory for me to seek to win?
  • is there a new understanding of God, of the Lord Jesus, of the work of the Holy Spirit?
  • is there a new understanding about the presence and schemes of the devil or of lies I might tend to believe?
  • is there an action of any sort I need to take?

    • These sorts of questions make the living Word the Word living in my life.  It is by faith in Jesus and through the Holy Spirit illuminating the Word of God I gain understanding.  As I wrote about yesterday: How is it that you do not understand? I must ask myself this question when my thoughts are not in line with the Word or when I question what the Lord is doing (or not doing) in my life.  I must realize that it’s not God who’s not working or present or speaking — it’s me not listening or trusting or following Him in faith — it’s me not continuing in the patter He’s given me.  And, above all that, I must remember that it’s not my faith that gives me understanding, it’s His faith working in me that gives me understanding… it’s His Word living in me that gives me understanding.Psalm 119.104  Through thy precepts I get understanding: therefore I hate every false way.

    Proverbs 4.5  Get wisdom, get understanding: forget it not; neither decline from the words of my mouth.
    Proverbs 4.7  Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding.
    Proverbs 16.16  How much better is it to get wisdom than gold! and to get understanding rather to be chosen than silver!

    How is it that you do not understand?

    I mull this thought over and over as I stir my coffee:  How is it that you do not understand?  It is a question Jesus asked His disciples *after* the feeding of the four thousand as they were reasoning among themselves about their lack of bread.  (Mark 8.16-21) We ought to ask ourselves this question — especially if we’ve walked with Jesus a long time — especially if we’ve seen Him do above and beyond all that we could’ve asked or imagined.

    So this must be us, too, because we have seen and experienced the provision, the miracles, the touch of Jesus on our lives and we, too, give in to fears and doubts and faithless thoughts. Where is Jesus when we do this?  Well, we answer, He is right here. Yes!  Yes, He is, but why do we think and act as though He is not (or was not or will not be).  Why do we so often live as though He’s never passed by, never taken our hand, never touched our eyes, never made a difference in our lives.

    We are like those who sought and received healing, but continue on having eyes that see not, ears but hearing not and experiencing but remembering not.

    But Jesus.  But Jesus — ever compassionate Jesus — doesn’t leave, does not forsake us, does not think us insignificant.  As further demonstration of His amazing love and precious care, Jesus continues to show mercy.  Mark 8.22: A blind man is brought to Jesus — for a cure, for sight to his eyes.  And what does Jesus do?  He takes the blind man by the hand.  Has Jesus done this for you?  Have you sought Him for this or that or some other thing — and He takes you by the hand?  Before the blind man saw, he was led by the Lord Jesus.

    O, that ought to be us. O, that we would trust Jesus when He takes us by the hand *before* we see — that we would be led by Him – in blind faith.

    1 Peter 2:9  “But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood,
    an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises
    of Him who hath called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.”

    When Jesus was reminding His disciples of the miracles they had seen and experienced, He didn’t simply point to the miracle of feeding four thousand or of feeding five thousand — but He pointed out to them what remained — what was left over.  Do you think on that in your life?  After the miracles He has done… and all the “fragments” or overage or abundance left over. This is where (I believe) the above and beyond comes in when considering that the Lord has done/is doing/will do above and beyond what we ask or imagine.  I think we’re just too often to blind to see — even though we’ve been given sight.  May the Lord open our eyes that we may see — that we may understand — and remember — and live in His marvelous light.  May it be for us, today, the testimony:  whereas I was blind, now I see.  O, what a difference since Jesus passed by.

     

    Life’s Threads

    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.

    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.

     

    Testing of Faith

    “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.

    Graciously interrupted

    I consider things for which I want to be remembered in life.  Obviously, as a believer, I want to be remembered as a godly woman, I want to be remembered as a faithful wife and a loving mother.   I most want this to be observed by my husband and family —  from my bathrobe behaviour to my apron work behaviour to my garden clothes behaviour to my dress and jacket behaviour.   Regardless my outward adornment, my activity or accomplishment or present company,  I desire to be in behaviour that from the heart becomes godliness.

    That’s my prayer, my aim,  my path.

    A natural result or expression of godliness is graciousness.   I want to be remembered as gracious — Proverbs 11.16 says, “A gracious woman retains honour…”

    Though graciousness is demonstrated in many ways,  one of the ways I want most to develop and improve graciousness is in my response to interruptions.  I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit as it’s an area I’ve needed to continually revisit, revise and improve through the years.  I’ve come to conclude that if there’s one thing a mother needs to learn, it is the skill of being gracious while being interrupted — retaining honour in the midst of an interruption.

    Not until I was a mother did I realize how selfish I am/could be — it wasn’t until tasks were interrupted or put off, sleep was interrupted or until health or strength waned did I realize I was so self-centered.  It was, ironically, a wake up call for me.  Then came all the other changes and experiences that life brings.  Along the way I would come to understand biblical submission, more of motherhood and serving others.  Interruptions. Interruptions.  Interruptions.

    Through a series of events, I would come to understand the importance of flexibility, of scheduling, of forbearance, of service and, ultimately, graciousness.    Training came in unlikely forms for me: the late nights, accidents, sickness, soccer practice, piano lessons and reminders to practice, lost jackets and torn seams.  These would serve to prepare me for unexpected car troubles, financial strains, hospital emergencies, deaths and other life experiences and inevitable surprises.  I’ve come to see that everyone goes through most or all of these same “interruptions” — difference is, do they go through them graciously?  Do I?

    Interestingly, I’ve found that emergencies don’t feel like interruptions — at. the. time. — because they are, after all, emergencies.  Sort of like getting hit broadside in an intersection.  A heart attack.  A call from the hospital: “hurry and meet me here.” You don’t plan for it or anticipate it — so it doesn’t really interrupt you.  At the time. In those sorts of scenarios, you don’t stop and think: this sure is an interruption — and many of those sorts of things, we never look back and call them an interruption.

    It’s most often little things… that’s what I’m referring to: the little, insignificant interruptions to your day, schedule or plans.

    You make dinner and either everyone’s late or no one comes home or everyone’s home and a few bring friends… you planned for a few and now you have many.  You’re planning a day of housekeeping and mending — suddenly someone needs something you consider to be insignificant — but it’s not insignificant to them — your plans are thwarted.  A wonderful book, a Bible, a study, an article beckons to be read, a squabble upstairs interrupts your thoughts.  You sweep, mop and wax the floor… muddy shoes mar the shine.  Small things.  You have time to react… time to think.  You finish all the laundry… only to discover a few loads’ worth in various and sundry places.  Empty milk jug in the fridge.  One more blog to read. Empty tissue roll on the dispenser.  One more dish to wash. You’re exhausted, your teen needs to talk.  You’re on your way to the Sunday meeting, the car won’t start.  You’ve just bathed, towels on the floor, none clean on the shelf.

    You have time to react… time to think.

    One after another, interruptions seem to flow through the river of your life… is your response gracious? Is the Lord apparently at the helm?  Is the day bathed in promises and covered in prayer?

    It’s in the little things… it’s in the big things… it’s in the emergencies… it’s in the mundane:  I want to be found to be graciously interrupted.