A couple of weeks ago I worried five pounds off my body.
While the weight loss was satisfying (although not a method I'd recommend), the worrying was wearying. Confessing my sin began the grace process of being cleansed from it, and along the way, my gracious God sent me a book to help me see myself a little more clearly.
Understood Betsy, by Dorothy Canfield, is the story of a nine-year-old orphan girl raised by a spinster aunt whose worrying makes mine look meager. Merely by worrying aloud about her niece's poor appetite, the dangers of doggies one meets on the streets, the frights certain to be found in the schoolyard, the aunt managed to create a coddled, fearful, weak child.
A few turns of events later, the poor child finds herself out from under the protective wing of her aunt and transferred to the libertarian care of another set of relatives (of whom she has heard horror stories from the cradle upwards).
Thrust into the confident bosom of a family uneducated about her fears and inabilities, the orphan girl is unsurpassingly astonished to discover that she is capable of remarkable feats: caring for a kitten, dressing herself, rising without being called, walking alone to school, helping with household chores, and even .... thinking for herself!!
As I read the chapters aloud to my own little flock, it's gratifying to watch the orphan girl unfurl her wings and learn to fly. I see my cautiousness in their upbringing from a new angle, and am determined to change.
It's not meant (I suppose) to be a manual on childrearing ... but Understood Betsy is challenging me to let go of my worries and quit hovering, to let my children begin to soar.
The best books always do leave us standing taller.
winter wonder
The fire has gone out. My fingers are cold.
But you know what? I am a grateful woman.
There are bags of pellets for the pellet stove out in the garage. The sun is streaming through my (supposedly) energy-efficient window in my (relatively) warm house. My pantry is stocked with nutritious food, and if it weren't, it would be a matter of minutes for me to go buy what I need at my choice of nearby variety-laden supermarkets - and with cash, I might add, that my able-bodied husband earns honestly at his fairly-compensated and steady long-term job.
My children are warmly clothed.
My to-do list centers on maintenance rather than on survival.
I'm more likely to need to vacuum my carpets than patch a leaky roof.
We ration Christmas cookies to curtail greed ....
.... some are rationing the last of the rice, to keep starvation at bay.
A World Vision Catalog came to our door a week ago, and as we pored over the photos of foreign children holding ducks and goats, suddenly the wish lists we'd laboriously thought up for the children in our lives seemed awfully petty.
When we could give food....
What are you grateful for today?
How could you show it?
But you know what? I am a grateful woman.
There are bags of pellets for the pellet stove out in the garage. The sun is streaming through my (supposedly) energy-efficient window in my (relatively) warm house. My pantry is stocked with nutritious food, and if it weren't, it would be a matter of minutes for me to go buy what I need at my choice of nearby variety-laden supermarkets - and with cash, I might add, that my able-bodied husband earns honestly at his fairly-compensated and steady long-term job.
My children are warmly clothed.
My to-do list centers on maintenance rather than on survival.
I'm more likely to need to vacuum my carpets than patch a leaky roof.
We ration Christmas cookies to curtail greed ....
.... some are rationing the last of the rice, to keep starvation at bay.
A World Vision Catalog came to our door a week ago, and as we pored over the photos of foreign children holding ducks and goats, suddenly the wish lists we'd laboriously thought up for the children in our lives seemed awfully petty.
When we could give food....
What are you grateful for today?
How could you show it?
fleshing out faith
I've always been a pragmatist. An optimistic realist, I'd say. Love the lofty, absolutely, but if it doesn't work, out it goes.
I would say I believed in prayer, believed in a healing God, a God who hears and loves to answer. When I prayed and got an immediate answer, I was thrilled. My faith, I thought, was bolstered and increased.
When I prayed and nothing happened, I'd chalk it up to some mistake I'd made in praying or in hearing God, and forget about it.
Rarely did I persevere in prayer. Somehow I figured that if God wanted to grant my request, he'd do it right then. ... I wonder how many answers I've missed seeing because I'd lost sight of the prayer I prayed?
Then the other day I got a shock.
I read in Hebrews chapter 11 about people who believed God and clung to faith even though they never saw fulfillment of the promises they were given. I've read it before, of course, but it never really struck me: they died, believing without seeing. A whole lifetime of faith, passed down to children: "What our God has said, He will surely do."
Nothing happened, but "nothing" didn't shake them.
They believed anyway.
Suddenly my faith looks tiny. Microscopic. Nonexistent?
I rejoice in stories of God's faithful provision for others, but when he asks me to step out in faith and do something that makes me vulnerable and completely dependent on him .... I hesitate. "Did I really hear you, God? But that doesn't make sense. What if ....?"
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your path. Proverbs 3:5-6
I want to pray for boldness, courage, an increase of faith ... but I hear him ask me to trust him with what I have, now. Trust him through my fear - obey without comprehension.
It's no more than what I ask of my own children. And I, the far-from-perfect parent, frustrate myself with wondering why they disobey, why they hesitate, why they don't trust.
Oh, humanity! Oh, the patient mercy of our God!
He is perfect. He is loving. He is trustworthy. His plans for me are not to harm me, but to prosper me, to give me a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29:11).
If I can't trust God, who can I trust?
And if I trust no one but myself .... my record does not recommend itself, frankly. Do I really want to forge my own way? Depend on my own frailty for sustenance? And if I don't trust him, why should he uphold me?
I am at an impasse. Will I listen to fear?
Or to love?
[and oh, if you only knew the tiny thing he asks of me ... !]
He gives more grace
He really does.
My ears had heard all they could hear. The older children were happy-loud, and I was thankful for their health, but they had recovered not just their health but some of their bad habits as well, and I was too tired to do anything about it. (I know, I know, I'm not supposed to admit that. It was, however, the unfortunate truth.)
So I put earplugs in. And issued a 10-minute whispers-only break-for-mama's-ears. And prayed for strength to minister to the tiniest one, so grouchy from no sleep, wanting to be independent but wanting the comfort of mama more.
I showed him books. I played trucks. I played puzzles. I tried and tried to understand his pidgin English. So frustrated, he was, when mama didn't understand those almost-words.
I loved him.
I didn't have it in me.
To my utmost gratitude, God did. And in His love and mercy, once more He provided, loaning some from His bottomless well of love and mercy to bereft me.
: : :
The little one's in bed now, and my earplugs are out. Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice are playing Memory on the kitchen table (at Daddy's "suggestion" after the rough-housing in the livingroom turned nasty). They are mostly kind to each other.
Forgiveness is a valuable skill, too. And tomorrow is another day.
: : :
[the list I didn't make, last week while I worried ... ]
# 533 - 543
His faithfulness to forgive my sin
His power, when I ask
the warming wintry sun
courtesy of a hunter, a stranger to us
the deermeat he offered - God bless him for his generosity!!
a child's prayer for success, answered
a friend from long ago, buying my pottery with smiles
all those teddy bears, even unsold
rescue of one of God's precious children
my Farmer, humbled to serve us
a true power nap on my favorite "pillow"
My ears had heard all they could hear. The older children were happy-loud, and I was thankful for their health, but they had recovered not just their health but some of their bad habits as well, and I was too tired to do anything about it. (I know, I know, I'm not supposed to admit that. It was, however, the unfortunate truth.)
So I put earplugs in. And issued a 10-minute whispers-only break-for-mama's-ears. And prayed for strength to minister to the tiniest one, so grouchy from no sleep, wanting to be independent but wanting the comfort of mama more.
I showed him books. I played trucks. I played puzzles. I tried and tried to understand his pidgin English. So frustrated, he was, when mama didn't understand those almost-words.
I loved him.
I didn't have it in me.
To my utmost gratitude, God did. And in His love and mercy, once more He provided, loaning some from His bottomless well of love and mercy to bereft me.
: : :
The little one's in bed now, and my earplugs are out. Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice are playing Memory on the kitchen table (at Daddy's "suggestion" after the rough-housing in the livingroom turned nasty). They are mostly kind to each other.
Forgiveness is a valuable skill, too. And tomorrow is another day.
: : :
[the list I didn't make, last week while I worried ... ]
# 533 - 543
His faithfulness to forgive my sin
His power, when I ask
the warming wintry sun
courtesy of a hunter, a stranger to us
the deermeat he offered - God bless him for his generosity!!
a child's prayer for success, answered
a friend from long ago, buying my pottery with smiles
all those teddy bears, even unsold
rescue of one of God's precious children
my Farmer, humbled to serve us
a true power nap on my favorite "pillow"
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