Family – Page 2 – The Welcome Home

songs for seasons

teacuppamela Just recently I was sharing with my church family the many times the Lord has given me a song for a season — songs playing in the theater of my mind in different seasons. Through the years, here in this blog, I’ve shared clips of songs or meaningful words that have carried me through difficult days or trials. Interestingly (and thankfully!), the Lord has often used music to direct or focus my thoughts. When my mind would tend to wander in caves of worry or despair, songs have been my pillar of fire in darkness; songs have been my anchor in tumultuous seas; songs have borne the truth when the enemy has rushed in with floods of lies; songs have pointed to certain reality when shadows of doubt have been cast over my path.

The gift of music! What blessing the Lord has worked in music – many songs – psalms, hymns and spiritual songs! Five years ago, in the midst of the greatest sorrow I’ve ever known, the Lord used a few songs to carry me through each day and night during that season. In time to come I would experience and see very clearly the truth I’d been singing for months: “Anything that’s shattered, when laid before the Lord, will not be unredeemed… ” (Unredeemed – Selah). I will be eternally grateful to What God did for me in that season and the things He’s continuing to work in me from the lessons those days brought me. I needed to be broken—I needed all the lessons the Lord worked in me through that time.

On the heels of that season came another pressing trial when our son Timothy was so very sick. God again used song to carry us: Great is Thy Faithfulness would ring in our ears over and over. The miracle God provided proved this true: How great! O, how great is the faithfulness of God! Morning by morning new mercies we did see! Later in that same year and into the next, I would face another trial… blindsided, really, and yet God had a great purpose in all that, too. On so many levels I needed what that trial taught me—teaches me still! Having sunk to another lowest of lows, another song would carry me through: (Springtime’s Coming – Hopper). For a few months, my husband set this song to play to wake me every morning. Occasionally, at random points in those days, he would remind me with a smile: Springtime’s coming, and the words and melody would again ring in my ears. On an early April morning, I would receive and open a package containing the biggest surprise we’ve ever received. Truly, right before my eyes, “God had the biggest surprise” just as the song I’d been singing proclaimed. It was more than a dream.

Fast-forward a few years: I shouldn’t have been surprised at how another song would become dear and instructive to me — actually a very unlikely song has been invaluable to me. Sort of like the Happy! song the Lord used to encourage me during my husband’s open heart surgery and recovery… that one occasionally had me dancing and clapping along like a room without a roof! Well, this time, the song that is encouraging me was playing at Christmastime (Count your Blessings – Ray Conniff singers) and I’ve needed the little nuggets of gold contained in the song. I’ve needed to be reminded to fall asleep counting blessings instead of sheep.

In a season of change, I’ve been drawn into worry and fretting and, occasionally at the end of the day, into counting sheep instead of blessings when sleep’s been elusive — I smile when the thoughts prompted by that song ring through: “…we’ll kneel and pray to be shown the way; and when we’re worried and we can’t sleep, count our blessings instead of sheep and we’ll fall asleep counting our blessings!”

Maybe the Lord uses song or music in your life to carry you, to instruct or encourage you as He has in mine. I sure hope so.

A new day

stbx Throughout the seemingly long afternoon I received surgery updates from the nurses and soon I would hear the words I longed to hear: He’s doing fine. After Dr. Ryan explained a few specifics about the surgery, he said Wes was very cooperative throughout the surgery. I still wonder what that meant. 😉 Then he asked if I had any questions. I thought, Owow — I ought to have some questions — I’ve had all afternoon to think of questions — surely there are some important questions one would ask at this point. All I could say was, It’s a new day… I don’t know what questions to ask. I thanked him for saving Wes’s life. I had nothing else, just: Thank you. Thank you.

I had been saying that to the Lord… This is a new day for us. This is a new day. Thank You for doing this, Lord. Thank You… sort of like when we take the cup of salvation, all we can really say is: Thank You.

A new heart also will I give you,
and a new spirit will I put within you:
and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh,
and I will give you an heart of flesh.”
ezekiel 36.26

To which we truly can only say: Thank You.
Thank You spiritually, thank You physically.

I’m thankful the Lord never wastes a thread. I’m thankful His ways are only good all the time. I’m thankful He goes before us and there is nothing hidden from Him, nothing He does not see, nothing He cannot do — no purpose of His is thwarted by any means. The Lord did me a loving favour four years ago to allow me to see His merciful, healing hand. Early that warm July morning, I’d been on my face before the Lord and knew with certainty that if He would choose to heal our son if He would choose to take him home that that fifty/fifty chance of survival the doc was offering was a win/win.

I had fainted, unless I had believed to see
the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
–ps 27.1

Out of surgery now and getting Wes settled in his room, the nurse told me I might want to wait a bit, that it might be a startling sight to see my husband on a ventilator and that he would look a bit different due to some swelling and that there would be a lot of equipment and tubes and things… I nodded to her and thanked her — and inside I thought: I stood beside my son… I know I want to stand beside my husband.

Many many times through the years when hard things come, the Lord has taught me to take in what’s happening and to watch and wait… and to tuck it all away. I’ve repeated to myself many times, this is so big… you’re going to need this… someday you’re going to need to look back on what the Lord did here (and here, and here, and there, and there). You’re going to need this.

I could see that even though he was still heavily sedated the pain was tremendous. Over the next hours he would have the vent removed and reality would set in… he was going to have a painful recovery period.

Our children and grandchildren had gathered in the waiting room by this time. It was quite a sight… could’ve been a wedding a funeral, a surgery or a World Cup game there on the television… family all standing around talking together. One of the boys brought in several boxes of pizza and they were all strategizing what to do next, how they’d get all Wes’s pool jobs done and who would do what in the weeks ahead. There was so much work to do — I wish the scene could’ve recorded for Wes.

Through the course of the evening they all had opportunity to go in a few at a time and stand beside him, to talk to him and hold his hand. His tender smile and recognition was comforting to each one of them — their short visits would be repeated throughout the night.

wesafterheartsurgery

I decided to go home for a few hours late that night… and as I drove across the trestle, it began to sink in what all had transpired that day — how the Lord had very clearly directed the path, how He’d answered that humble prayer so specifically and how He’d provided “just what the doctor ordered.” I say it began to sink in… but I’m not actually sure even today that I grasp it all. But this I know: it was a new day and once again Providence did rise before the sun.

Then came the morning

At some point in the night, I went from the chair beside Wes’s hospital bed to the couch at the window… the shade was down to darken the room but I was suddenly aware of the bright overhead lights in his hospital room. The morning had come — and true to the testimony, all I knew of that morning was that Providence had risen before the sun.

I thought back on the previous Wednesday afternoon… I’d come in to the dining room having spent the better part of the day working in our gardens. I was doing some preparation for a talk I was to share the next evening and in the course of my reading, I came across a verse–and I recall I had fully intended to look it up in my Bible, but I decided to keep reading. I’m glad I kept reading, as the profundity of the verse and a very present application would have been lost on me at the moment. Only a few hours later I would recall what I’d read and I would praise the Lord for His *living* Word.

A new heart also will I give you,
and a new spirit will I put within you:
and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh,
and I will give you an heart of flesh.”
ezekiel 36.26

I had shared this with Wes, we’d talked about it many times in the previous day. All the while we knew the Lord had, indeed, gone before us. We’d asked the Lord to make the way before us very plain. Before we went to sleep, we’d prayed and thanked the Lord for His graciousness to us, for His presence, for the work He was doing; we affirmed to the Lord (and to one another) that our times are in His hands. Then came the morning.

A couple of different cardiologists had come into the room; the cumulative readings on the monitors and other tests showed that Wes had had yet another heart attack. It seemed the whole atmosphere had changed: now more serious were their voices, now more urgent were their discussions than the previous had been. It was sort of like when you get that note on your computer screen that the battery power is low and then you get another screen message that alerts you your computer will soon shut down and you scramble like a crazy to find your power cord to plug it in before your computer shuts off and you lose whatever work you were trying to finish. But not really like that at all.

Dr. Ryan was talking with Wes and at some point said, How ’bout if we just do this? Wes was sitting up in his bed, saying he knew there were several others scheduled for surgery in the next couple of days and that he’d be happy to wait his turn — especially for those whose needs were more serious. I can’t recall the whole conversation exactly, but it was complete when Dr. Ryan replied, How about if we just do this right now?

That set in motion a flurry of activity and preparation for surgery. There was no time to check off the boxes in the “care checklist” booklet we’d received. No time to accomplish all those pre-surgery tasks and procedures. Somewhere along the way Wes was given some pre-op info: You’ll be on a heart-lung machine, we’ll do this and that, you’ll experience this and that, after the surgery you’ll have such and such… it’s all sort of a blur to me now.

Through the hallways, in the elevator, down the long corridors… Do you have any other questions? Do you have on any jewelry? Your wife can hold that wedding ring for you… Through that door is the third-floor waiting room… The nurse will inform you when he’s successfully on the heart-lung machine and the surgery is underway… We’ll take good care of him… The doctor will talk with you when he finishes the bypass grafts… Do you have any other questions?

I kissed him… took his glasses and his wedding ring… and through my tears I tried to remember to smile… to be brave.

It didn’t really dawn on me at the time, but over the next few hours I would come to see the gravity of the situation. It was not a normal surgery day. Not a single soul was in the third floor waiting room of the beautiful Cymbaluk Tower… no one at the desk… no lights on… no noise at all. It was surreal. And I realized the Lord had answered our prayer. He’d made the way very plain. Our times are in His hands.

Hannah came in… she put Wes’s wedding ring on her finger behind the ruby ring he had bought for her many years ago… she cried as she said she never knew that inscription was inside his gold wedding band. Be there.

hannahwearingwessring

Be there… his earnest prayer for all our children: Be there.

Our times are in His hands

teacuppamela On that Friday afternoon it seemed we were leaving with more questions than answers — more of a dilemma than a solution. Strangely, as I look back on the whole sequence of events, it wasn’t necessarily the wisest thing to do—to leave the hospital. But at the time, it seemed like the logical next step — even though we weren’t exactly thinking in or planning for sequential steps of action.

Earlier in the day, when the doc had said bypass surgery was the next step, my husband thought he needed more time in order to plan for and schedule such a surgery. The need for surgery wasn’t in question — we’d seen the images and what the heart cath had revealed. The doc sort of incredulously said he was thinking that surgery ought to be done in the next week. Hmmmm. Next week? I’m not sure either of us had a grasp on the gravity of the situation — you know, hindsight being 20/20 and all, we’d likely have scheduled it then and there. I’m glad we didn’t know.

Even as we were walking out to the car, leaving the hospital, my husband slowed his pace bit, asking me to walk a little slower. At home, settled in a chair in our living room, he rested for a little bit. Maybe it was an adrenaline rush, maybe it was nervousness, I don’t know… but instantly my mind was filled with things I knew needed to be taken care of… a quick tidy here and there, and then there was the cake I’d committed to making — a cake for a baby shower. The cakes needed to be baked and the fondant needed to be made. The ovens were preheating, the mixers were whirling the cake batter and I was working along, filling the pans and planning for the decorating of the cake and I was singing… and, yes, mulling over the surgeon’s comments. As the cakes were baking, I prepared the fondant and made syrup for all the hummingbird feeders. Wes had gone upstairs to copy off a bunch of records and reports that had been requested by the hospital’s business office. Funny how one can do a whole bunch of things in a short amount of time when the mind’s on overload. All the while we’d been praying—affirming that our times are in His hands and that the Lord would surely direct our path. We determined we would wait on Him to make very clear the next step.

With the cakes wrapped and in the freezer, a few batches of fondant all wrapped up, the hummingbird feeders all filled… it felt so good to be home, to have a bath and to sleep in our own bed. So tired, I was asleep before my husband came to bed. That quote, filling my thoughts: “All I know of tomorrow is that Providence will rise before the sun.”

Very clearly, Providence had, indeed, risen before the sun. Roused out of a deep sleep… my husband’s hand on my shoulder and his pained whisper in my ear… I need to call 911.

I watched and prayed as the aid car drove away from our home down our lane. I dressed and gathered things to put in the car — strange what you think is necessary or what you remember in such times. I remembered that when my husband had a heart attack seven years prior, I kept saying to myself: get fully dressed, get fully dressed… you may be there awhile and you cannot wear a nightgown at the hospital, you have to wear clothes. And, it’s strange what you think to tell your children in such times. Like plans for the nautical themed shower cake and what foods are available for everyone when they get up.

Our times are in His hands;
there are things we can’t plan for — things like heart attacks.

wesandmeinhospitalbeforesurgery

I made my way to the emergency room. Again, we waited — it was all very familiar to us — the blood draws, the waiting, the monitors, the pain scale of one to ten. Later, settled into a 7th floor room, more tests, questions and affirmations that surgery was the next step. Our times are in His hands. This theme would guard our thoughts and govern our responses — this theme would be our hope and stay.

As my husband talked with our different children through that day and into the night, he would affirm to them over and over that no matter what the outcome of this whole thing, the Lord is only good, His ways are only good and we can trust Him. Over and over again he would share that all his hopes are in Him and He has a very good plan. After long talks, as the last kids left very late that night, we settled in for a rest — my husband in his bed, tethered to the monitors and I in my chair beside him… the incessant beeping lulled me to sleep.

Providence will rise before the sun

teacuppamela I haven’t written in awhile… well, at least not here on my blog—mostly bcz I’ve not really had motivation to write. Words… gazillions of words are posted day after day and so many are worthwhile—but in the heaps of gazillions of words so many worthwhile things are buried. I receive and delete entries every day. You probably do, too. I guess I’ve not wanted to add to the heaps of words — or to the trashbins of email accounts, either. I love to write. I love to share what the Lord is doing. But I’m also really insecure about writing. Especially knowing there are so many talented writers out there, putting out polished entries complete with photos and commendations. I don’t have a whole lot of that. But one thing I have is a passion to share what the Lord has done, is doing and how gracious and merciful He is and how great His love is for me. And for you — for us all.

All I know of tomorrow is that Providence will rise before the sun.”

Day after day I saw that quote on the computer screens all around the hospital. In the emergency room. In the waiting rooms. In the private rooms. It had such a profound effect on my thinking. I feel as though the Lord had that quote for me to see over and over again so that I would walk through each day with confidence that He was going before me — that no matter what happened, my times are in His hands: He only does all things well; He loves me; He has each experience in hand for my good and His glory. And over the course of many days, I would see Providence going before me.

Nearly three weeks ago, I called my husband, as I customarily do in the afternoons, to say hello, to see how his day was going and to see when he’d be home for dinner. That Wednesday afternoon was no different — except that our son answered the phone when I called. Not necessarily thinking it strange, I asked how things were going… he related that dad wasn’t feeling well. Never once assuming something different, I just thought that they’d had something bad for lunch or whatever. Not until my husband drove in and started out of the truck did my thoughts immediately change — suddenly spliced into my movie were the words, “are you having a heart attack?”

Over the next several hours we would go through a very familiar process of waiting and waiting. Later that night, settled into his room, we’d hear more familiar words and assumed we knew the next procedure. I was unprepared but strangely not surprised by the doctor’s report and diagnosis after the heart cath procedure. When another cardiologist came in to talk with my husband about what was needed, my husband said he’d be able to schedule the procedure in sixty or ninety days or so… it just wasn’t a good time for it right now. Heart attacks are funny things… you never know when they’re going to happen and they sure take you by surprise. And, they’re inconvenient.

Being that our situation wasn’t all that conducive to scheduling a $urgery of that magnitude, we determined to pray… to seek the Lord and His very clear direction as to what we ought to do next. What should we do next? There were lots of ideas, lots of conversations, lots of opinions, but we clearly needed the Lord’s precise direction. We prayed He would make our path very plain. And He did.

Providence did, indeed, rise before the sun.

Tell ya ’bout it next time.

Someday an Heirloom Marriage

Someday an Heirloom Marriage
by pamela spurling
written year-2000

I pray as we sit here at the kitchen table, that what I share with you today will be a blessing to you and a blessing in your home—I pray it will maybe even change the way you look at your marriage and perhaps it will never be the same again.

So… Your Marriage is an Heirloom. An heirloom that, depending on its value, will be passed down for generations… I think most times, women don’t have any idea the value of what they have in their hand and that it is quite possibly one day going to be an heirloom: a treasure passed on to someone else. Think of all the things you love that once belonged to someone else… things that at the time, probably had little monetary or sentimental value to the owner. Think of treasures from your grandmother or mother… things you highly value that they may have once considered of little worth. Think of the things you now own and use… things your children may one day treasure: things that you now give little thought to using each day…things that you, for the most part, take for granted. Marriage is sort of like this sometimes. Here we have what the LORD calls a mystery… the mystery of the two becoming one flesh… the mystery that is likened to Christ and the church. A man leaves his father and mother to be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh. A mystery… a gift: two people: one flesh.

An heirloom.

Have you ever considered the treasure you have in your hand? O, you may not see it as a treasure today… in fact, you may think your marriage merits little attention and is really of little worth. That may be how it is…or that may be how you see it today. Consider for a moment how it would be if you were to see it and treat it as an heirloom. What if you were to treat it as a precious crocheted covering or an embroidered cloth… each thread carefully stitched in place, each knot tied with precision, the cloth itself handled with diligent care. You know, as people go through their lives, they often don’t consider the things they are collecting to be “heirlooms.” In fact some things we collect, we may not even consider valuable until someone remarks at the beauty or worth of the item. And then suddenly that old thing become like a priceless gem. Some things are only valuable because of their condition or age… not because of their original value or usefulness. Some items may not originally appraise at a very high value but given a few years the increase in valuation is remarkable.

Think of what folks are willing to pay for antique furniture that is overly worn, chipped, and marred. Notice how much people prize this type of furniture that they try to emulate depression era or old furniture by roughing up, “antiquing,” denting, sanding around the handles and knobs, gouging the tops and sides—doing things in *one* day on a counterfeit that took *decades* of wear and use on the heirloom piece.

But what if you treated your marriage as an heirloom… What if you handled it with care… what if you tended to it as a gardener attends to prized roses… what if you tended to it as a mother to her newborn or as a jeweler polishes the gems… what if you protected it as a crossing guard protects the little children in the walk… what if you watched over it as one watches over a sick child… or if you invested in it as some invest time in perfecting a skill… or invest money… or if you protected it as one who protects from harm…or what if you cherished it as one cherishes the wedding kiss… prized photographs… fine gold… flawless gems.

Your marriage is an heirloom… and its condition is dependent largely on how you care for, nurture, guard and protect it. I am mindful today that I am writing to some whose marriages are on shaky ground, whose foundations are cracked and whose walls have been compromised… it is with this in mind that I share from my heart that even a marriage of this condition can still become a treasured heirloom. Think back on that prized antique furniture… whose value increased by the stresses sustained in its lifetime. Even when a piece such as this is “restored,” some of the fractures and scars remain… much like stresses in marriages that God has healed and restored. It’s often the mended stresses that are the strongest and add the deepest meaning and value to the antique—likewise to a marriage. God is still on the Throne and He specializes in restorative work—nothing escapes His gaze and nothing is too difficult for Him.

Patching and mending…

We have a quilt… it’s not particularly beautiful or attractive. My husband has had this woolen hand-pieced quilt for many years. Early in our marriage, I knew he loved this quilt but I didn’t yet understand the depth of his love for both the quilt and the great grandmother who made it. I didn’t know his great grandmother and so with time, in hearing of her love for the LORD and her great faith, I have learned to value this quilt. Something I would like to note to wives is that we often don’t realize the hurt we cause and the damage we do to the heart of our husband when we reject their possessions or treat them carelessly. I am very sorry now for the many times I neglected or discounted the value of some of my husband’s treasures. A wise wife will never make disparaging comments about her husband’s cherished possessions. So, over the years the old quilt has needed mending… and sadly, I have neglected it until the need was obvious. Instead of patching and mending it right away, instead of being careful with and watchful over one of *his* favorite possessions, years would go by and the seams would ravel and some of the stuffing would come out… all because I didn’t value it and tend to it sooner.

Marriage is like this… unless we are attuned to protecting and tending to our marriages, they will become like this heirloom quilt… it shows its age, it shows its neglect, it shows it worn spots, it shows where it lost its stuffing, and it shows where its raveled. Matthew 6:21 For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also

You may not have the tangible heirloom quilt in your hand… but you have in your hand the quilt of your marriage… and like freshly sewn blocks in a quilt… things for you may have gone along neatly fitting together for years: piece by piece, square by square, block by block. Your stitches may have started out straight and even… possessing all the qualities of a remarkable heirloom quilt and then with time, the stitching may have become careless and uneven. You may now have in your hand that same quilt that you had so carefully begun stitching… and it now shows evidence of the tears and worn spots, places that needed mending, places where careless use or misuse caused holes and even rips, a spot or two where the stuffing was pulled out and nothing was added back in its place, or other places where the stuffing was put back in and the whole area was retied. You may look around at other quilts and compare the quality and be dissatisfied with the value or quality of your own. Oh how we need to refrain from doing this… this can be so damaging. Instead, we need to be about the business of attending to our own… an heirloom quilt is unique because of the special design of the Master and the love invested in its making.

You may have, in the heirloom quilt of your marriage, places where the patches are brighter and sturdier than the original fabric, the thread used in the mending— stronger and more vivid. These are the places of greatest value to you in the quilt… stronger than the original pieces. You may have places where the ties are stronger than the original ties, you may have a new backing…new binding. You may run your fingers over the quilt and feel the smooth and the rough patches… some of the ties tied into bows and some tight knots… some of the stitches: straight and smooth, others loose and jagged.

Whatever the case, were you to look at the quilt of your marriage as a priceless heirloom, would you do the patching and mending? Would you tend to it with attentive care? Part of my thinking is prompted by watching the blooming of Josh and Kimberly’s marriage… and of watching our son Daniel and his wife Tara’s marriage. I think of the many ways in which their marriages are like a vast canvas—clean and white, and with everyday a brush stroke adds colour and dimension to their “someday an heirloom marriage.” As I have walked through their homes I smile as I see them building their lives… adding things, experiences, joys and sorrows that are all becoming part of the quilt of their marriage. The trials and testings that come their way will either strengthen or weaken the fabric of their marriage. I’m blessed to watch the development of these priceless heirlooms. I get sort of weepy sometimes when I see them and others… the quilt blocks coming together so neatly and so sweetly… as I know there will surely be days ahead—those necessary experiences that will test the strength and construction of their quilt… that will add or detract from the value of their heirloom. Then, I look at our own marriage… I see the beautiful hues, the pinks and the blues, the bright spots and the deep black etchings… the patching, the mended tears and tight knots… all the events of our marriage that make it into an heirloom…an heirloom that I treasure today—an heirloom I desire to be treasured and remembered by our children long after we are gone.

I think of the times I have neglected the patching… much like Wes’s woolen quilt originally carefully made by his great grandmother. I think of the times when my carelessness and my haste made for injury and foolish rips in the fabric of the quilt of our marriage. I think of the times when I neglected to be sensitive and the seams raveled and the rebinding and mending was painful. I think of the times when the pressure was tremendous and both of us had to work diligently to reinforce the stressed spots. I recall times when I didn’t feel like adding the extra fabric to reinforce the blocks… even though I knew exactly what was needed and the LORD was supplying all the “material” and “thread” to mend the tear. Even sadder, I look back and see that I sometimes have rejected the pieces my husband was offering to patch up the tear… and I rejected them in pride: thinking I knew a better way. How foolish it is to not accept the love… to not forgive and move on.

“Every wise woman buildeth her house: but the foolish plucketh it down with her hands.” Proverbs 14.1

And so… a “someday an heirloom marriage” requires that I be diligent to know the condition of the quilt… and I must be more than willing to make the first stitch in the needed repair… instead of waiting for my husband to make the first stitch. I need to be daily valuing each additional block… and carefully piecing what God is providing. I need to watch my actions and the things I allow… I need to guard from the damaging words and negligence that destroys the foundation of this heirloom. I need to preserve the treasure and not let carelessness destroy or compromise depreciate the value of this precious heirloom.

Someday an heirloom marriage.

When our children look back on the story of our marriage… I hope they’ll see the quilt of our marriage hemmed in prayer, the seams stitched with faith, the old pieces we both brought and offered to each other that were fitted together and formed each block of the quilt… that they’ll see a marriage built on the secure foundation of faith in the LORD stitched with some sorrow and tied with gladness… all the bright spots to highlight the joys and the dark spots for depth and clarity to punctuate the grief and to frame the forgiveness and the faith. I pray they’ll see it all and praise the LORD for His goodness and His merciful kindness… all the while knowing that without Jesus at the center… the quilt blocks would have separated all frayed and raveled, the pieces would have had no purpose or value… and there’d be no heirloom at all.

So, for today and all the days ahead I pray that you will add to the value of your “someday an heirloom marriage” trusting the LORD for all the pieces… stitched with faith in Him… and treasuring your husband as a gift from the LORD.

Motherhood: A Call to Carry On

Carry on. When you’re drop dead tired and there’re still several hours and as many chores left to do at the end of the day: Carry on. When you have so much to do you don’t know how you’ll do it all: Carry on. When you have so many needs to fill and seemingly not enough resources to fill them all: Carry on. When you’re weary and successes are few and failures are many: Carry on. When you feel all alone and as if no one cares for what you do: Carry on.

Carry on, Mother, carry on! Motherhood’s a call to carry on. No matter what you think, how you feel or how things seem to appear, as a mother, you’re called to carry on.

I was mulling over this message, I got to thinking about flying; the hustle and bustle of the airport, the waiting in line, the scans and the check-points. You board the plane and you prepare for the flight ahead and you sit back and either endure or enjoy the ride. You don’t really worry about your baggage, for at that point there’s really nothing you can do about it anyway. But there’s still your “carry on” stuff… the stuff you need to be responsible to take care of. All the while, it’s up to you to make the best of the flight or perhaps by default, just choose to snooze or endure the passage of miles and time.

Motherhood’s a lot like that… you may come into it with lots of baggage, but there comes a point that you need to put the baggage down and “check it” as it were, and deal with your carry-on’s. You know, it’s interesting how baggage goes… it’s all the stuff we think we’ll need for the trip; it’s all the stuff we thought we couldn’t live without; it’s all the stuff that follows us wherever we go and much of it doesn’t do us any good or isn’t actually useful or necessary for the trip –we usually find that out when we reach the destination. Actually, for most all of us, what’s really important is what’s in our carry-on’s. We usually pack the most important things in our carry-on’s – our valuables, our money, our credit, our identification, our appearance enhancing tools, and other necessities. Problem is, many mothers get bogged down with their heavy baggage and are consumed with looking at it, thinking about it, rifling through it, trying to carry it around –that they forget to hang on tight to their precious carry-on’s. Many mothers are more concerned with the baggage… the things, the what if’s, the furnishings, the styles, the weights of the world, the what-will-other-people-think’s in life.

It’s what’s in the carry-on that is most important —You keep the carry-on stuff intact, chances are good that no matter what happens to the baggage, you’ll still make it though the trip just fine. Your ‘carry-on’ is usually what you need for the trip… the stuff in the carry-on is your treasure. Well, this is sort of a description of motherhood, but as analogies usually do, this analogy breaks down at some point.

Motherhood’s a call to carry on. But we don’t carry on alone. O, the enemy may attempt to persuade us that we’re alone, that no one else is doing what we’re doing, that we have too much to carry or not enough help with what we’ve got to carry or that our load is heavier that other mother’s loads or worse: that our load or the work we carry is not all that important – that anyone can do it. Truth is, whatever the LORD’s given us to do is ours to do – not someone else’s to carry and do. That’s why the LORD has so faithfully preserved His Word, given us His direction and defined our roles as mothers. Many mothers attempt to carry baggage that’s not even theirs to carry –as if what they’ve got isn’t enough already. Many mothers think they’ve got to do all the lifting and carrying and, really, the LORD never intended mothers to do all that some do. O, some things are noble, even admirable, but they’re not necessarily what the LORD designed and called them to do.

So, how do we carry on? Well, I’ve come to see that carrying on is probably best defined as obedience – obedience to the will and way of the LORD and nothing else – for obedience sort of sums up the whole of the Christian walk. It’s hearing what you’re being told and doing it. And for mothers, it’s what we do (or ought to do) and what we teach (or ought to teach). As we walk with the LORD and live in obedience to Him, He enables us to hear Him and to obey Him –that’s the precious work of the Holy Spirit. As we live and walk in obedience to Him, we’re carrying on the call of motherhood. For God calls us to obey Him and He calls us teach our children as we rise up, as we lie down and as we walk along the way. A mother cannot lead children where she herself is not going; a mother cannot teach what she herself has not learned or is not learning. A mother cannot call her children to obedience if she’s not seeking that in and for herself –it’s part of that precious calling: the call to carry on.

So, precious mother, when the way is dark and the future seems bleak: carry on. When the path is rocky, windy and steep: carry on. When life seems to be endless piles –piles of papers, piles of dishes, piles of laundry, piles of toys and books and crayons, piles of dirt and piles of chores: carry on.

And when you feel you cannot go on, stop where you are, fall to your knees and carry on. Carry on to the LORD, He will be there, He will hear and He will carry you. And you will see that all the while you carry on, your cares are in the hand of Jesus and all your carrying on is in His strong hand. You will never find a time when you open the Word or fold your hands in prayer that He won’t already be there. You’ll never find a time where your prayers are not heard by the One who loves you. There will never ever be a time where you step out in faith or in obedience and not fin Him already there.

If it’s been a while since you stepped aside to pray or to read the Word or to write in your journal, taste and see: the LORD is good. He will already be there. He will welcome you with open arms – He won’t be looking at where you haven’t been, He will be looking at your “now.” In the moment you call upon His name, He will answer, He will be there. Taste and see.

Dear mother, faithful and wise, you’re called to carry on – one day at a time in the hand of the Saviour. He’s not looking at your yesterdays or even your worries about tomorrow; He’s looking at your “today” – at your “now.” All that stuff that in the baggage? Be done with fretting about it; be done with lesser things, be done with vain glory and all the trappings of the world. The enemy doesn’t want you to bask in the blessing and direction of the LORD –that’s why he seeks to distract you and weigh you down –reminding you of your failures, what you don’t have and what you haven’t done –or worse: that none of it matters, that it doesn’t matter what you do.

But today? O, today, dear mama, today’s your new beginning. Now is the day, now is the time to carry on in His name – His wonderfully strong name. Your children will see Him in you and they’ll see the Light on the path as you carry on. You have a most honourable, most noble calling: that of carrying on throughout motherhood. Be faithful. Finish well.

an entry from

Carrying on with you: in love and blessings… pamela

Chore sticks…

teacuppamela

A clean home is a happy home. I know, I know, if ever there was a guilt inducing statement, that is it! But, seriously, think with me for a moment… consider some of the very best homemaker feelings/accomplishments. Doesn’t a ship-shape-top-to-bottom tidy give you a great feeling? How about a thoroughly cleaned out garage, a freshly cleaned and ordered pantry, fridge or bedroom closet? If you stop and think about these sorts of things, you’ll probably quickly remember how great it felt and how smoothly things seemed to run in your home. Remember?

With the advent of our son getting married a couple of weeks ago, a bit of space was freed up in our home. And, well, as you can imagine (especially if you’ve got a lot of children still home), the ideas and possibilities seemed to explode and the enthusiasm to clean out, paint, rearrange and clean up bedrooms was at an all time high. And at the end of a few days, when the bulk of the work was completed, the bedrooms were nearly all set up. Fresh and clean… and happy.

I have an idea for you… something that might add a little fun to your cleaning schedule — and maybe even to help you set up a cleaning schedule and give you some time saving ideas, to give you some inspiration and to make it fun.

You’re going to need a few supplies, first. I’d suggest that you get a binder or a piece of paper that you’ll add to your kitchen binder / log / whatever. Make a list of all the different chores you know must be done. Then, go back an prioritize the list into groupings of least to most important (or vice versa). The reason I’m suggesting that you write this down in a binder is that you’ll then have a written record that you can consult every time you’re going to do seasonal chores or monthly chores. If you don’t have a kitchen binder or a home/time management binder, then, most sincerely, I’d suggest that you get one, and begin to load it up with your family/home information, plans, important lists, etc. And, yes, I do mean paper, pens and a plastic/metal 3-ring binder. You’ll keep this with your cookbooks, etc.

After you’ve written your necessary chores list and arranged them in some order of importance, then you’ll need to get some wide craft sticks or tongue depressors and two jars. Then, write the chores – individually – on the sticks. I have written with Sharpie pens so that the ink won’t run if the sticks get wet – and I can reuse them many times this way. I may give an estimated time to complete the chore – or an asterisk on the stick to indicate importance or priority.

It really doesn’t matter what you do, it’s just a matter of doing what you know you must do and determine to get those things done. This stick method is but one method you might use.

This isn’t meant to put you in some sort of chore bondage, or to dictate that you must do it this way — and, believe me, this method is not the key you’ve been searching for to get your house in order once and for all. The order — once and for all — deal doesn’t exist. But you can learn ways to bring about a semblance of order that makes for a more smoothly run home and a more orderly way of keeping and caring for the things we all need to have/use in our homes.

So, maybe you’ve got the idea of making the lists in the binder and you’ve even imagined that you could write out the chores on the sticks… now what? Simple put the sticks — as many as your chore load dictates — in a jar. And then, establish a cleaning segment of every day and pick sticks each time, do the task on the stick, move on to another and another as time allows. STOP working when your allotted cleaning time is up. Plan to work the next day and the next — starting and stopping at the planned time, and so on, until the jobs you need to complete have all been completed. Put the completed chore stick into the empty jar and see how quickly you can get the sticks transferred from the first jar to the next. After a few days, you’ll be amazed at how much you can do AND how much you’ve gotten done. Save the sticks in your cabinet for the next overall house deep-cleaning and a couple of months (you can also make chore sticks for daily work or weekly/monthly work).

This will go much faster if you’ll mobilize your troops! Seriously! Teach your children to love to work and to work hard at it! Your attitude and zeal will be very motivating for them. And the daily allotted time deal? It’s a real loving incentive and doesn’t break morale —if— you’ll but stick to it. God bless you and your clean, happy home.

Being conformed…

teacuppamela

Earlier today I was reflecting on some of the unlikely ways God conforms us to the image of His dear Son — and some of the unlikely tools He chooses to use to work that conformation in us (and maybe even through us from time to time). I asked my dear mother in law if she’d send me the quotes she was sharing with me as we talked about God’s work in our lives — I’ll share them with you when she sends them.

I’ve been sincerely amazed at the ways God works His will and His purposes in my life / in our lives. It seems the most impossible, difficult and maybe even painful situations are the ones that bring the richest, choicest fruit in our lives. But they are, indeed, the situations or incidents we’d most likely attempt to avoid (or choose differently) or reject. But God doesn’t choose differently, when He works a work or plans to work a work, He has very precise purposes for the things He allows to happen in our lives — even, and not surprisingly, our most foolish or careless decisions can be used to bear rich fruit for our good and His glory.

It’s a good thing we don’t choose the tools of our training or the methods of our sanctification — well, I’m thinking if we did/could/do attempt to choose them, our attempts would/do fail to accomplish His purposes. First, we’d reject the tools and then we’d reject the method — thinking and reasoning that our method and our tools would be ~~easier better~~ wiser. Our ways always seem at the time: mo bettah. A fool is wise in his own eyes…

Today I was thinking of the ways the Lord has taught me to love my children in the way He loves them. For it was easy to love them in the way I could love them. But along the way, He’s allowed situations to occur to teach me to love them in His way. He’s allowed situations to occur or come to pass that would mold me or are molding me into the woman He’s created me to be. The Lord has sought to use tools I wouldn’t have chosen — actually can’t choose to use. And yet, in His mercy and in His kindness He is working that I might be conformed to His image. He’s also lavished grace on me (and them!) that I continually can be used in their lives, that I can continually grow and adapt as the mother they need me to be — doing what HE would have rather than what I might choose or neglect to choose to do. And by His grace, He enables me to press on in faith that He who has begun a good work in me will complete it…

He seeks to conform us to love, to be forbearing, to be kind, to be patient, to be peaceful/peaceable, to be gentle, to be temperate and so on. All of these qualities are the fruit of the Spirit – and we all desire to have these characterize our lives -but they’re not the fruit of self, they’re the fruit of the Spirit and they’re not planted, cultivated or increased by the flesh — again, they’re of and by the Spirit of God.

So as I was seeking answers/fruit in some different areas, it seemed to hit me today like a ton of bricks… the answers I’m seeking — the fruit I’m desiring — is not [going to be] my doing! It’s God’s doing! It’s God’s work: in His timing, by His will in His way. And so as I was seeing the dawning of His work in some specific areas, I began to see this truth: God chooses the fruit and He chooses the tools He uses to bring it about. I want to be so yielded to Him that I will not resist the methods of His choosing and the tools He uses as He works His marvelous will in my life.

Keeping Up

teacuppamela I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately… you know, keeping up. Not the Keeping up with the Joneses sort of keeping up, but the staying strong and keeping up with the times sort of keeping up. It’s been going on for awhile, but I hadn’t noticed it so much in the last few years as much as I have recently.

On a recent trip down to SeaTac airport, there was some questioning who’d drive and who’d stay home. I volunteered to drive and as I was driving and the miles were passing… maybe it was mile-marker 14 or so, I mulled over the thought that I wondered am I going the right way — or will I miss my turn-off? Then I thought, O, that’s absurd, I go down to the airport at least once a month, if not more. Then I got to thinking, there sure have been a lot of changes to the Bellevue skyline and in the number of cars on the road. And I felt old. Music was playing… I hadn’t pushed any of the buttons (preset to stations I didn’t even know) and I noted that everyone in the vehicle was using some sort of device… listening, talking, texting… texting… texting. And somewhere along the way, I thought: Omy, I really must work at keeping up. A few minutes later, arriving at the departure gates, my daughter said I ought to go in and that she’d drive the van around; go ahead, mama, go ahead, I’ve got it.

Eventually I obliged and got out… still thinking, still feeling old, still thinking I need to keep up, I thought: Yes, you’ve got it; I used to have it and now I feel like I don’t. And time seemed to stand still for a moment as I waited with the others for the passengers to deplane. A bit later, as we made our way home, I commented to the driver, I need to keep driving sometimes — I need to stay sharp, I need to keep up.

She smiled and said, don’t worry, I don’t mind driving. And I thought, me neither. She doesn’t know I need to drive. She doesn’t know I need to keep up.