The Welcome Home – Page 73 – The Next Chapter

“…that women would adorn themselves…”

…in modest apparel.”

I’ve been mulling this over (and over) and over. This morning I was browsing Facebook then the Drudge Report and the Seattle Times. And you know… there’s a common thread (pun unintentional — but I think there’s something to it) and a common appearance. It’s not just the blurring the lines between decency and indecency or masculinity and femininity (certainly not in the SeattleTimes). But it’s more than that — I’m not sure it’s driven by culture today or culture of thirty years ago or what. I’m not even touching on the mutilation by piercings and tattoos, by the way. But there’s a blurring of God’s creation. There’s a distortion of God’s creation. A mutilation of God’s creation. I see immodesty as a bit of all three — and that’s immodesty among men as well as among women. Immodesty infers that there is nothing sacred — nothing warranting covering and nothing warranting privacy and nothing warranting reverence. O— women need to get this matter right. I don’t mean that there’s a specific clothing style or code or uniform… but there is need to women to guard their bodies — guard the treasure of their body and not flaunt it. In addition to that, there’s such a need for women to guard womanhood — girlhood — femininity! What a blessing God created us male and female — we are different one from another. What a great gift this is. Immodesty destroys purity and unisex or gender-nonspecific clothing destroys God’s distinctive design.
What that says to me, therefore, is that immodesty is carelessness or disregard of God’s design and eternal purpose. Immodesty is arrogant. Immodesty is rude… it seeks its own way, it is easily provoked, it behaves unseemly. Immodesty isn’t kind, it puffs up, it exalts self and doesn’t seek the good of others – therefore, immodesty is not charitable… or is not loving. I used those analogies bcz in the end, it’s not love for the brethren if we’re immodest as believers. If, as believers, we dress immodestly, we’re sending not only mixed signals to the brethren, but mixed signals to the watching world as well. We’re saying outward appearance doesn’t matter… God’s special design and order is not all that important and outward appearance isn’t a “spiritual” matter. But I’d say that it is… the outward is simply revealing the inward.
So what is modesty? Modesty is moderation, decency — modesty is propriety, it’s not forward or arrogant. Modesty “… is synonymous with chastity, or purity of manners. In this sense, modesty results from purity of mind, or from the fear of disgrace and ignominy fortified by education and principle. unaffected modesty is the sweetest charm of the female excellence, the richest gem in the diadem of their honour.” [this definition, in part, from Noah Webster 1828]
Do we see very much fear (as in the sense of propriety and honour in dress and demeanor) in dress and behaviour today? No… not much fear at all. In fact, the “No Fear” slogan has sort of pervaded our culture, thought and behaviour and is totally contrary to God’s design. Immodesty is contrary to God’s design. “Gender-unspecific” is totally contrary to God’s design and yet is common — normal — but normal doesn’t necessarily mean right or appropriate.

there ought to be a law… on indecent exposure

And now there is. And I’d hazard to guess that there are “indecent exposure” laws on the books in many states already… maybe many laws and on the books for many, many years.

So, now in Mansfield, Louisiana there’s a brand new law against indecent exposure… a law against sagging. Now, you know, I’m thinking that there’s going to be a bunch of hooey about the invasion of privacy or personal expression… you know freedom of dress as a form of speech. Apparently, there’ll be a pretty stiff fine for, well… “Anyone caught wearing sagging pants who exposes his or her underwear will be subject to a fine of up to $150 plus court costs, or face up to 15 days in jail.”

So, there you have it. An arbitrary law… that’s also ambiguous. Perhaps this targets men, or rather, younger males. So anyone who exposes his or her underwear will be fined. His or her… underwear. Now, isn’t that interesting —with men and women increasingly revealing more and more of their undergarments, this’ll be a pretty tough law to enforce. Well, that, or the city will rake in the revenue from violators who defy the law. And given what’s being worn every day, they’re going to need reams of paper for writing out citations. Now, how do you suppose they’ll handle women’s clothing? How about swimsuits? How about the inside out fashion trend? You know… women’s lingerie on the outside. O, c’mon, you know what I mean. Lace clothes hanging out of low tops and pulled tight over the low pants. And the trend here in the pacnorthwest and elsewhere is to wear the low pants so that the tag from a type of undergarment purchased from a Secret store is hanging out of the back of the low pants. I see it so often that I wonder… do the fathers of these girls not tell them what all that says? Do the mothers turn a blind eye to the clothing they wear?

Why is it that indecent exposure is so common and so acceptable. Will the law in Mansfield apply to, say, commonly worn beach attire? Is a bikini not simply colourful underwear? And will underwear include all forms? It really could get out of hand… but, I suppose not more out of hand than the current trends that seem to be commonly accepted.
Ironically, I was just corresponding with a woman this evening about this very topic: modest clothing. It was in relation to the sale of what was termed “modest clothing,” and I was commenting that many of the images I had previewed were, in fact, not “modest” at all. They were designed to cover much of the body (and that was remarkable), but they were still skintight and very provocative. So… modesty isn’t simply a matter of not showing the undergarment or of covering the skin, but it’s something more: it is the wearing of apparel to cover and to not be suggestive or enticing about what’s underneath and the manner in which the clothing is worn has a great deal to do with whether or not a woman is modestly dressed. Now, I’ve spoken and written on this topic many times over the years and have sought to encourage women to take a good look at what they are or aren’t wearing — and why. I think I’ll share a bit more tomorrow on modesty and, this latest topic, indecent exposure.

A Glad Representation

It was sort of surreal sitting there last night at the local Burger King… since our family size had been dramatically reduced for the evening and since it was Andrew’s actual birthday, I decided to do some very, very different things for the day and evening. So, there I was, with the four children, sitting in the play structure area. I was sipping on a DP (btw – I’m not sure that’s on the T-Tapper’s allowed beverage list), and as the sun was beginning to set, there was a glow that sort of obscured the reality of where I was and transported me back to days gone by — days long ago when our four oldest children played on similar climbing toys at a local park. I sat cheering all the: Mama, watch me’s and all the: Mama, can you see me’s?

A man at a nearby table asked if those were all my children. I smiled and said, yes, but not all — and went on to share that we have eleven children and those are the four youngest. He exclaimed some surprised expression — and was even more surprised when I said we have three grandbabies. Sharing the table with him was his mother-in-law and a few other family members. She asked if I was with another local family… a family with a bunch of children. (I smiled – inside thinking how funny it is that large families are sort of birds of a feather… and of course would be acquainted) I confirmed that we did, indeed, know them and fellowship with them and she was quite pleased to hear that. We continued to have a delightful conversation and, all the while, our children continued to play together… Joey helping the youngest of theirs get up and around in the tubes. Up and down, round and round they played.

As we took a play-break to eat dinner, the conversation continued. And I was keenly aware, once again, of the fact that we all represent one another to others. We represent the LORD to others. We represent our families and our friends everywhere we go. When I’m diving along in my 15 passenger sports car I’m representing other mama’s who drive similar vehicles. When I’m at the grocery store, I’m representing other mothers…. I’m continually aware of this through the years.

What started this thought, along subsequent decisions and convictions, was an event that happened quite a number of years ago while I was shopping at Costco. As I was placing item after item on the counter, the cashier commented to me that she always noticed that I was always dressed a particular way and that I always had such a clean, wholesome look about me. I thanked her and shared with her that her comments were humbling – that whatever good she saw was all the LORD’s doing. I made it a point to greet her and ask about her each time I shopped there. It was the LORD’s doing then and whatever good’s going on today is the LORD’s doing now. I sort of tucked that conversation away and it was added to the (so far as depends on me) “I will always _______ ” list. It’s not an actual list, but personal stands, or guidelines, that govern my life.

As a believer, everywhere I go… whatever I do… whatever I say… whatever I wear… is a representation of something. That something is the Living LORD — that something is my husband — that something is our family — that something is my sisters in Christ — that something is those in our fellowship, along with believers around the world — that something is my husband’s business and etc., etc. When I keep behaviour, presence, appearance, etc., etc., as a high priority, our children see and understand, for they can see and know that I represent them, too.

So, as we sat there last night I suddenly remembered that I was sort of “representing” those who were not there — and you know what? I was sort of melancholy and glad all at the same time. I rarely ever stop to analyze situations like that — but I did last night. I was glad that my love and respect for the different ones had been obvious. I was glad that were my husband to walk in, he would have been well represented. Had our friends walked in, they, too, would have been well represented. When we got up to leave, I told them it was nice to meet them… and they said we sure had a nice family and thanked us for the smiles.

As we all hopped in the ~~van~~ sports car I was still smiling. I was recalling parts of the conversation… their comments about our friends and the great work they had done on their house and what a nice family they had. I was glad that we hadn’t “represented” them in anything but a favourable light. I was glad to have been there with our children having such a delightful time. Whenever I look back on last night (or when those people look back on last night) I imagine it will be with gladness. Most of all, I was glad the LORD was honoured in our midst.

I think of the verses in Ephesians 5.1-4:

Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children; And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweetsmelling savour. But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints; Neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are not convenient: but rather giving of thanks.”

For better or worse, everywhere we go, we are a representation… O, to be a glad representation.

Slices of Life ~ August 9

Today’s my sweet boy Andrew’s 9th birthday. I’ll write about this boy a little later on. What a delight he is and has been for our family. I’m marveling today: what would I do without this boy?

mamaandrewparty

Too bizzy for bloggin’ today — but wanted to share an interesting thing – a YouTube clip…. I put it on our site. Staggering statistics…

And… I sent out a “Letters to my Sisters” today… hopefully it will be of encouragement to a mama who’s wondering if anything she’s doing is amounting to anything. This one’s called The Significance of Stones.

O… about my new friend…

Well, she’s been hanging around here for about a week now. And, to tell you the truth, I think my new friend is trying to kill me. Well… maybe not… but she is, at the very least, trying to beat me up. Okay— so, now I sound like a child complaining about the very thing they need the most. My new friend Teresa (as in Tapp) has been meeting me here every day for the past week. I’m getting in the swing of things—I would have thought I’d be further ahead or that it would be easier by now — after spending 35-40 minutes a day with her. But noooooooooooo. No, she is relentless… every day it’s the same thing – every day she attempts to break my neck or my back or my buns or my thighs or my calves or my arms (or all of them at the same time).

O, oooo I know, this *is* my doing (or undoing). I should have been e-x-e-r-c-i-s-i-n-g every day through the years. But I wasn’t. Now I am. And isn’t that the crux of the Christian life? But I wasn’t—now I am. But I wasn’t walking with Jesus—now I am. I was all those things. Now, by the grace of God I am not. So now, I see it’s the same with food and exercise. I wasn’t doing what I ought—and now I am.

I’m telling you—if you’ll go and get that book and read it(!) and then pop in the DVD — you’ll see. First, you’ll meet that new friend, Teresa. And then you’ll soon learn that she is going to try and beat you up, too! I haven’t gotten to that point where I can smoothly go through two workouts every day. But I am staying with it – 2 a day. No, I haven’t lost 85 inches or 15 dress sizes ( I know – a mere exaggeration) like most of the “success stories” in the book do in the first ~~15 minutes~~ 30 days. But—I am on the path. I wasn’t exercising every day before last week and it took me a lot of years and a lot of babies and a lot of nursing—okay, and a lot of eating to get where I am today. But —I’m not today where I was yesterday—I’m a tad bit better today than I was yesterday and a whole lot better than I was 5 days ago and will be better tomorrow. O, I still need to concentrate on the “routine” of exercises to get the hang of each one. But, mygoodness, they move along so swiftly that I don’t have much time to concentrate on one thing for too long… she moves on whether I’m doing it right or not. She never waits for me to get it right, even though she does remind me over and over… Is your back flat? Are your knees bent? Tuck those buns, keep your knees bent… KLT and on and on.

I’ve practically heard her in my sleep… and, believe me, I have recurring nightmares that I will be one of the poster children who didn’t lose two dress sizes and didn’t keep my back flat or my buns tucked or KLT in 30 days. O, and the KLT? O, I looked and looked in the book to see what in the world she was talking about: KLT. I thought—KLT… KLT… KLT — keep legs tight? keep laughing today? keep living tough? O: knees-little-toes. That’s where you (with legs bent, buns tucked, tummy in —feet apart: in line with hips — feet straight) keep your knees bent and pushed out toward little toes. Yes, you can! See? You can hear her, too, can’t you?

And I’ve heard her at my washer/dryer. There I am pulling the wet laundry from the washer and tucking it into the dryer… knees bent, tummy in, buns tucked… like I’m doing the “pull the weeds” exercise. Okay… so you’ve gotta get the book or go to the website so you’ll see what I mean. I tell you—she follows me all over the house… I go to unload the dishwasher and I hear her asking me: pamela, are your knees bent, is your back flat? Yes you can! It goes on and on. I’m vacuuming and there she is: are your shoulders back, is your tummy in? And I say, O, for goodness’ sakes — I’m working… I don’t have time for you to visit right now.
So she tells me I will be “Fit and Fabulous in 15 minutes.” Okay— (And that’s the title of her book, by the way) there’s one little part that might be easily overlooked, and that’s: how many “15 minutes” it will take to be fit and fabulous. I’m thinking it’s going to take a whole lot more than one week or even 60 days of 15 or even 32 minutes each day. ~wink~

If you’re going to have my new friend Teresa come over to your house, I’d suggest that you get (in addition to privacy) a good pair of X-trainer shoes. I was greatly encouraged when I got a pair a few days ago and started wearing them just for when Teresa visits. And I’m a whole lot more motivatd now that I have a new vocabulary —target areas have been identified and have names I’d just as soon forget. Consider: back fat, bra pudge, tummy bulge, saddle bags… Ooooooooo. So, I’m learning the secret to a flat stomach without doing sit ups. I already knew part of the secret (and it’s not sit-ups): it is to quit sitting up to the table (or the computer) and now, with Teresa coming over each day… I’m learning.
More next week.

More slices of life

And now…. even *I* can see: the baby’s growing up:

The dolly, Amelia, lost her first tooth today.

and while I’m at it… here are a couple more pics:

These were taken a few weeks ago… Samuel and Hannah were hiking

A terrific view of Mount Rainier

Samuel… at the top of Mount Pilchuck.

They tell me I wouldn’t make it.
Well, maybe not today…

Okay…

And I cannot resist one more.
Those who know Hannah – know she *loves* to laugh.
A lot!

And Hannah and her friend, ‘Rissa, together?
Double the pleasure, double the fun, quadruple the laughter.

more slices of life another day…

and so it goes.

Comparativitis

There’s a strange phenomena that happens when people talk about families, or rather, family size. Many times through the years women have commented to me that they “only” have ______ children; or that they have a small family or whatever. I am quick to diffuse the comments or quick to turn the conversation to matters at hand. We might’ve been talking about laundry or mealtime or whatever, and the conversation turns to amount of laundry or size of pots and pans, etc., etc. I quick attempt to thwart quantifying the value or size of the job based on number of children bcz, so often, women with fewer (than?) children discount their work when they’re talking with a mother with (___?) more children. I hate for women to feel less or think less of themselves bcz they have fewer children than I do.

I think God, for whatever reason, may give “more” children to one family than He does another, or He exaggerates some families or some situations for His purposes. Believe me, for the life of me I do not know why — but I know He does. Just like He exaggerates health or wealth or knowledge or whatever in some families/individuals more than others. And just like there will always be someone in your life that has more money, brains, athletic ability, talent, possessions, square-footage (house size) and/or education, friends, or beauty than you, there will always be someone with more children than you (or me). But we must guard against “comparativitis.” Comparativitis is such a dangerous thing… it’s close kin to covetousness and closer kin to discontent — two biggies that will destroy you (and me).

So this morning I got to thinking about this… yep, spurred on be the browsing the news and seeing the latest addition to the Dugger family. Instantly, comparativitis washed over me. I thought (for a moment) that I had a lot of laundry to do and the dishwasher still needed to be unloaded and the floor’s a mess and there are a few stacks of stuff on the stairs to be carried up and I was giving some heart to heart directions to a few boys who needed to be sure and carry down their laundry *every* day so that I won’t have such an ~~odiferous~~ ~~intoxicating~~ aromatic experience at the laundry area. As I read the latest news, I thought… what in the world have I got to fret about. I do not have s-e-v-e-n-t-e-e-n children under n-i-n-e-t-e-e-n years old. It’s always sensational to read their stories, to see the beautiful family and consider how it all works out. Around here, we’re wowed by 4 under 4 or 6 under 7 or whatever. And then we compare. We might be tempted to compare our situation with Michelle Dugger’s… we might instantly think: well, if I had that house, or if my husband made X number of dollars a month or if I physically could, I would have that many children too! I’ve heard women compare themselves to her — only, in this way: O, I probably would’ve had X number of children, too, but I breastfed all mine for X number of years; or, I wonder why she had them all so close or whatever. See? comparativitis is such a damaging thing. It brings such condemnation — either to ourselves or to the one to whom we’re comparing ourselves. Isn’t the better part of valor, certainly of wisdom, to just say or think: God bless her. God bless all the mama’s. God bless all those who never had an opportunity to carry a child… in arm, to term or even conception.

If we’re going to spend any time today comparing… let’s not compare from a critical or even from a defeatist attitude… If we’re going to compare, let’s compare notes… let’s see what’s going on and see what we can do to improve our situation, our home, our outlook or whatever else is concerning us. Let’s be glad… glad for wherever we are, whatever God’s allowed us this day. Let’s consider what we might learn from one another. Let’s consider Jesus: who for the joy that was set before Him…

My new friend

I have a new friend. And believe me… I didn’t instantly like her… she was just… hmmmm too… too. O, she hasn’t done anything wrong… no, no, no. It’s just that I initially thought she was smug and seemed a bit too sure of herself. O, not that she was arrogant or even that she was overly confident, for I really do appreciate the character quality of “confidence” in a person. It seems that when a person is genuinely confident, then I can be pretty sure they’re also genuinely… uh… genuine. I don’t mean the confidence that’s actually insecure, but the confidence that’s confident about what’s known or what’s believed. I have, however, met lots of people who are insecure but are truly sure and solid about their beliefs (but I digress and that’s probably a whole other blog entry).

So my new friend…. boy, is she direct and commanding! I don’t know exactly why she had my attention from the very beginning, but she did. It was as if whatever she said, that was true! I’m sometimes wary of such boldness and I tend to have reservations… but in her case, I was somehow immediately fascinated by her story – her approach. So she was standing there sharing her credentials, her experiences and sort of the outcome of her life and those experiences. There was no arguing with her “success” — I mean, in many ways: seeing is believing!

My husband told me that he was perfectly fine with me investing time with her. In fact, so much so, that he agreed that if he were to help me develop a friendship with her, he wanted me to agree to meet with her regularly and he wanted me to make a strong commitment to do so. So I did. You know… just for the “record,” my husband isn’t looking for me to do anything and isn’t even remotely hinting that I need to do anything, by the way – just so’s ya know.

Well, as things would go, about that same time another friend came over to visit… and amazingly, with her was my new friend! She didn’t know just how serious I was about becoming friends with this woman — and yet, she brought her over to my house?! My friend warned me that I might not like her after a few visits. I told her that I was willing to work through any difficulties bcz I was so ready to be done with my current circumstances that I was willing to go through just about anything… remember: no pain, no gain. O, wait… no pain, no success.
So… the first occasion went fairly smoothly… then the next day was probably equally so. By the third day I was wondering if I was going to like this friend after all. I mean, she sort of kept gliding through our new friendship and I was really having a time of it. I’d say… wow, I can’t do this and there she’d go… over and over again: yes, you can! Then each time we’d get to the end of our visit, I’d think, well, maybe I can stick it out. I did make a commitment to my husband after all. And… she is, after all, adored by so many! It’s just that I keep thinking I’m not going to be one of the ones to have such a successful friendship with her. Or, rather, maybe I’m just not like other people… and maybe I can’t.

Today I’m going to visit with her — you know… that commitment I made and all… And I know she’s going to be as cheerful and commanding as ever — each day she’s always the same… she just says the same things over and over. She’s got it down to a routine. I know what’s coming now and I know what she’s going to say. And… though I’m hurting, she just smiles and says: yes, you can! Now, I know I haven’t heard her whole story and so I know that there are many things she might want me to do in the future — she has all this stuff planned for me once I get a little more experience… there’s sort of an expectation that I will advance in our friendship.

Though I haven’t told her, the only reason I even wanted to make friends with her is that I have been on umteenth and one diets and I cannot seem to lose weight past a certain point and I do have a goal I “must” meet in six months. Well… and during that little gout episode recently, my doctor told me I need to lose ten pounds and then lose ten pounds. That was sort of her truthy way of telling me I need to lose t-w-e-n-t-y pounds. Ten and then ten seemed to sound better. Well, better to her (my doctor’s probably a size 0 or 2 – really). Not to me. Anyway… so my brand new friend seems to think I can do this and so: bcz I made a commitment to see her, I will stick to it (and I also have my 6 month goal to keep in mind). I read her book, listened to what other people think about her and on and on. Today’s my fourth visit. O, she’s already here!

Now, if I have some good things to say about her in twenty seven days, at the end of this month, I’ll be sure and tell you! No, wait, if I have any good thing to share about her during these days, you can be sure I will tell you. What did I say yesterday about blogging and candor? I’m not being secretive here… I’m just nervous to tell about my new commitment and what this friend’s name is… in case I fail (my husband or me or both). But… at least for this initial number of 30 days, I have made a commitment to spend time everyday with my new friend Teresa. As in Tapp. And about that umteenth and one diet? Don’t ask. And my six month goal? Drum roll…. my six month goal is to be able to *comfortably* wear my wedding dress on our thirtieth wedding anniversary February 4. Though I’ve not tried it on in twenty years, I know it’s a bit small for me —- well, okay, quite a bit —Oooooooo: now it’s out in the open. I can almost hear my new friend now: Yes, you can!

another funny thing about blogging…

……….is that blog entries so often need to be, or tend to be, past-tense or obscure sounding things so that others won’t think you’re writing about them. It’s truly a balancing act to not offend, to not reveal, to not be too secretive or too open or too candid or so vague that too much is read into what’s posted. Another thing is that, so often, when someone’s telling a story, there’s this vulnerability or fear that others might be all too ready to critique it on whatever merits they happen to be personally concerned with. Say… a grammarian: always critiquing style and grammatical errors. Very few bloggers have editors. Well, some do (and I’m painfully aware this one needs one!).

A reader might be easily offended bcz their ideal is challenged or misrepresented or discredited. Still another might be critical of the topic, or even of the blog author, for having the temerity to say the things he/she says. Believe me… sometimes it just is easy to spill it all out on the blog-room floor and that’s probably bcz there’s still this quasi anonymity that allows for such boldness. But then… there’s this harness that most bloggers wear. It’s the harness of propriety, confidentiality – mixed with a measure of protection and/or self preservation. Face it… we can’t all say all the stuff we want to say, we can’t all say whatever’s on our minds and we can’t all talk about some of the really deep things we face each day… and yet we blog. I don’t know why we do… and millions would likely say the very same things I’m saying here: it’s like we all hold the same coin there’s some innate need or burning desire to tell our stories — that’s on the one side of the coin. On the other is the stark reality that we all also demand privacy, anonymity and/or protection from those who would disagree, verbally assault or attempt to tear apart the story of our lives. I don’t know how many times I’ve read, in the past few years, some blog entry that somewhere states that the writer hopes no one she knows will read her blog. Or, that no one she knows reads her blog. What? I don’t think that’s possible. Not really.

I remember one of the most valuable lessons I’ve ever learned in my life happened as a result of involvement on an email list. And… one line I will never ever forget was this: “… on the internet. People can get anything they want on the internet.” How did you find that? Where did you read that? How do you know that? Where did you see that? On the internet. And yet we think we’ve got privacy… anonymity. But at the same time, almost in contradiction, I think with all this candor, people think they know a lot more about us than they really know. Bcz as much as we bloggers want to tell our stories, many of us, at the same time, remain very, very private about our lives. I know I do, in part, bcz too many people would/might/do misinterpret things they read. That, or they read too much into what’s written.
And then you know what? There’s this whole other angle to blogging… it’s the angle that we want to share what’s going on, or we’re motivated to share what’s going on in our life, bcz we like reading about what’s going on with other people. We want to know and we want to be known. An example of this is, just this morning I was browsing through Facebook, reading some old notes that then took me to other blogs/websites.

There are a few blogs that absolutely and completely warm my heart and encourage me like few other things. I don’t even know them… and yet, I sort of feel like I do. I mean really know them. And yet I don’t. It’s a blog after all. It’s pictures after all. But it’s their life—their pics tell their story… and their stories make me ‘feel’ like I ‘know’ them. Whatever it is… there are homes on the web where I just love to spend time… I love how I feel when I’m there and so wish I could literally spend the afternoon over tea………………….

What if today was your last day…

Your last day to live on this earth. Your last day to see a sunset. Your last day to run upstairs with a basket of laundry. Your last day to shave your legs. Your last day to kiss your husband. Your last day to eat oatmeal. Your last day to pull weeds. Your last day to tuck children in bed and kiss them goodnight. Your last day to wash the clothes, turn socks, iron shirts, fold towels. Your last day to change a diaper, nurse a baby, clean a highchair tray. Your last day to pay a bill, greet a neighbour, pick a flower. Your last day to make your bed, dust a table, scour a sink. Your last day to pump gas, wait at a stop light, drive on the freeway. Your last day to use a keyboard, write a letter, lick a stamp.

What if today was your last day?

would you have been glad? Would others have seen gladness in you—that indescribable joy? No, I don’t mean glad it was your last day or joyful that’s superficial like some happiness… I mean glad… a glad heart, a glad countenance, a glad smile… glad to be alive and glad to be yielded to the LORD — glad to be in the capable Hand of the Saviour and submitting to He leading. Or would you have murmured… would you be remembered as a murmuring complainer… a doubter… an angry mom?
What if every day, after this day, you could do none of the above… what if all you could do is swallow and blink, whisper and think. How would you do the dailies today? How would your day be spent? What would be remembered? The work you did? No… what would be remembered was how you did it/them… how you looked, seemed, sounded and how you responded the the LORD’s call on your life.

And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed. The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light. Let us walk honestly, as in the day; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying. But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof.”

Romans 13.11-14