My Times In His Hands

A Post-Irene Prayer

2011-08-29T23:18:00.003-04:00

Psalm 84

"Blessed is the man whose strength is in You,
Whose heart is set on pilgrimage.
As they pass through the Valley of Baca,
They make it a spring...
They go from strength to strength..."

We scurried around our home, with the nervous energy of anticipation. My home has not been so clean and organized in months. My husband was pulling down storm windows, filling the garage with all the items we usually keep on the porch, and moving vehicles away from potentially dangerous trees and falling branches. We were checking flashlights and, every so often, watching colorful Doppler maps of a storm named Irene.

After a relatively sleepless night listening to gusts of wind and heavy rain, most of the storm had passed. Irene’s fury was felt in many places, but aside from some toppled trees and a lot of debris, things returned to normal in our neighborhood fairly quickly. We never lost power. We never opened an emergency water bottle. We never heard a window crack. Thank God.

But plenty of my friends suffered. Now, 48 hours after the worst of Irene, many friends and family to the west and east of us are still without power (and may potentially be for days, they are told.) So, for my friends and family who are without power, taking cold showers (if your water is running), trying to salvage spoiling food, cleaning up flooded basements or homes, sick over the damage of fallen trees and rising rivers (some yet to crest), I say this prayer for you:

O God, draw near to my friends and family who are walking through a valley of suffering. May You yourself be their comfort, their dwelling place, as you have been in every generation. May they find their strength in You. May their hearts be set on pilgrimage, for You are our true home. As they pass through the Valley of Weeping, make it a spring. Give hope that You will bring good through this suffering. Give times of refreshment and restoration after a time of disaster. May they be free from fear about tomorrow. Give them the grace to go from strength to strength. O LORD God of hosts, hear my prayer; Give ear, O God of Jacob! You, LORD God, are a sun and shield; O Lord, give grace and glory. No good thing will You withhold from those who walk uprightly. Though we cannot see it now, we know You are the God who redeems, and we will see Your goodness. Your word declares, "Blessed is the man who trusts in You." So we trust and watch and wait for you to provide and work. In Jesus name we come to You, Amen.

Parsley, Caterpillars & Hope

2011-08-24T23:03:00.022-04:00

I woke up early on Sunday morning to make soup. We were visiting my father-in-law for the day, and I wanted to bring some extra food to leave with him. So I was chopping zucchinis and onions when I realized my recipe called for parsley. Parsley makes me happy. I only have three edible plants in my tiny garden, and parsley is one of them. Anytime I get to eat something homegrown, I am thrilled. So, I gladly grabbed my kitchen shears and headed outside to gather the fresh herbs. To my surprise, I found a squishy, green caterpillar sitting right in the middle of my parsley plant. It gave me pause. It was so beautiful, a bright light green with black and yellow stripes. I took him inside along with the leafy bunches I had gathered. Half of the parsley was washed and added to the soup. The other half was placed in a jar with Eric. (Who names their caterpillar Eric, right? I was inspired to name him after Eric Carle, the author of the beloved children's book The Very Hungry Caterpillar.) I showed my family the special find when they woke up, and we all admired him and made sure he had plenty to eat before we set out for the day.

It was a long day out, but when we returned, there was Eric. He had eaten most of the parsley in the jar. The next morning was Monday, and every leaf was gone. I had loosely covered the jar with plastic wrap, punctured with a few small holes for air, but the plastic was really not necessary. Our caterpillar friend was not going anywhere. He seemed perfectly content in the glass house, as long as there was something to eat. So, Monday morning found me outside again with my kitchen shears, gathering food for Eric. I set him on the kitchen counter while I cleaned out the jar. Then I carefully placed him back inside with all that leafy green goodness. I also added a little water, which I actually observed him bending down from a twig to drink.

It was fascinating to watch this small creature. He very slowly made his way over the parsley stalks, quietly munching, silently growing. Tuesday morning I entered the kitchen and saw the same thing as Monday: Eric with a few bare, leaf-less parsley sticks left in the jar. Oh, and poop. Lots of caterpillar poop. So, I took him out again, clean the jar, gathered A LOT of parsley, and settled him back in to go to town.

By Wednesday there was a visible difference in Eric's size. Compared to the previous Sunday, he was longer and rounder. As Eric Carle said, "He wasn't a tiny caterpillar anymore. He was a big, fat caterpillar." There was also a change in Eric's behavior. He didn't seem quite so voracious. He was slowing down. I began to worry a little and wondered if our home was not a good place for him. Was he ok? An internet search led me to believe my worries were in vain. Actually, we had found Eric at just the right time, a wonderful time! Based on his coloring and behavior, he would likely be changing from the final stage of his caterpillar life to the pupa stage very soon. Only time would tell...

The next day was Thursday. When I check on him on my way to the coffee maker, I saw that only some, not all, of the parsley had been eaten. Eric was hanging by a self-made thread on one of the sticks of parsley. He had turned himself upside down and no longer sat on the branches, but rather hung there in the silver loop he had spun. It looked precarious. He didn't eat. He didn't move. That string bound him to the branch. It was as if he he knew something was coming and he was waiting. We watched.

By Friday morning, our family was busy packing up and getting ready for a weekend away. In between the hustle and bustle to get on the road, I would occasionally peek into Eric's jar and watch the transformation taking place. A chrysalis was forming on his beautiful fat green body! A self-burial of sorts was taking place. I did another quick online search to learn that there would likely be no activity with him during the weekend. So, I left him in his glass house on our kitchen counter and said good-bye.

When we returned Monday evening, the chrysalis was fully formed. We learned that Eric was in the caterpillar stage of the Eastern Black Swallowtail butterfly, and they usually form a brown chrysalis. However, they will rarely form a green one, and we got a rare one! According to one source, "The color of the chrysalis is determined by a local genetic balance that ensures the majority of pupae will blend in." Any ideas on Who designed that amazing caterpillar superpower?

We also learned that Eric would likely stay in this pupa form, hidden in the chrysalis for 9-11 days. In the next several days, as our family scooted through the kitchen, preparing coffee or graham crackers and milk, carrying full and then empty plates back and forth, we saw Eric. Even our little 2 year old regularly checked in on him.

By the following Sunday, Eric had been in our household for 2 weeks. He had been in the chrysalis for at least 8 days. I began to anticipate his grand re-entrance into the world, while secretly fearing he would never come out. I actually prayed he would not die in there. That chrysalis was so still. So lifeless. If it was in the garden, it would have been unnoticeable, for it blended right in, like a strangely formed twig or leaf. I questioned that a butterfly would really emerge from that paper-ish sleeve, but I hoped. So, I moved the fading parsley stalk on which the chrysalis was firmly strapped into a larger container, thinking that if Eric did come out, he would need some room to stretch his wings.

We also had terrific thundershowers on Sunday, so I felt inclined to give a few misty squirt-bottle sprays into the tiny habitat. Would the water soften the chrysalis "shell?" I don't know. It just felt right. The thundershowers continued for the next day, so a few more "showers" fell on Eric, too.

Day 10 in the chrysalis and still nothing. Well, let's just keep on waiting, I said aloud, as several sets of blue eyes peered into the clear, lid-less, plastic container.

Day 11 took my 2 year old and me outside first thing in the morning. It was my distraction for him, since he wanted to watch TV as soon as he woke up, but everyone else was still sleeping. As we played in our yard in the early morning sunlight, he noticed the garden in the corner and said, "Any more cata-pers in da parsey?" Gasp. "Eric!" so we ran inside to check on him in the kitchen. And he did not disappoint. There, out of the chrysalis, in the sun-filled kitchen, was a beautiful ebony-black butterfly with wings unfurled in all its glorious splendor. I ran upstairs, woke everyone up, and ran back to Eric to make sure he didn't fly away into our house. We took him and the container outside to coax him out. He came out, but he would not fly. I began to wonder if he was ok, so my sons looked up some more information. It turns out butterflies must wait till their wings are dry in order to fly (which in this case, took several hours.) And we also learned, by the markings on the wings, that Eric was indeed an Erica!

We set Erica in the parsley from which she first came. Occasionally she would stretch her wings and beat them, but mostly she sat with front legs folded, waiting for her time. We gave her a paper towel dipped in a mixture of honey and water, as one website directed us to do. I never saw her drink it, but I like to think it gave her a little strength for that first flight. For the next few hours, we would take glances out the window to see if she was still there. I didn't get to see it, but my middle son saw Erica take off. I was out running errands and he called me to tell me. He saw her flutter over the stone wall and into the neighbor's garden, then away. So began her journey into the world to be all that God created her to be.

There are so many meanings one could glean from watching this unique unfolding. A caterpillar's metamorphosis into a butterfly is the iconic symbol for change and new beginnings. There is the transformational idea of life being born from death. There are the themes of patient waiting, hope, and second chances. But the one thing I carry away from this privilege (and I do feel it to be such) of watching Erica is the idea that God is not finished with us. I could never have imagined that chunky, green-striped, parsley-eating-machine to become what she became. What change! The contrast is stunning. But God saw it clearly and planned for it perfectly. Although one of the glorious things about God is that He our rock who does NOT change, one of the blessings of man is that we CAN change. And with a Creator and Redeemer who can purpose, plan, and perform the incredible change I witness these past 3 weeks, I have reason to hope deeply.

Bon Bons and Other Myths of the SAHM

2010-07-07T14:54:00.004-04:00

I have been decluttering my house and desk, both of which are in dire need of it. I have stumbled across some writings of mine from the last five years, so I will be posting these in the next few days. Here is one from Fall, 2006. For those of you who know me, you will find an allusion to a pregnancy that was never fulfilled. I miscarried shortly after writing this. Yet, the conclusion still holds true, and God has blessed me since with another beautiful child.

One day last spring I was at the mall with my two boys, ages 5 and 3. We were there for their annual haircuts (to clean up the previous six I gave them) and to do a little shopping. When we were done, I decided to get my eyebrows waxed, the one luxury I afford myself in order to tame the ever-encroaching uni-brow. The nice woman at the salon took me to the back room. I sat in a reclining chair with my head back while my boys waited in chairs along the wall, probably wondering why their mother would subject herself to hot wax and cloth being ripped from her face. Actually, they were engrossed in the daytime drama I was hoping they wouldn’t notice on the salon TV. The technician made a comment about how well behaved they were, which, of course, immediately endeared her to me. Since she was clearly pregnant, I asked her if this was her first baby. She said it was, and she wondered if I stay home with my kids. I happily replied that I did, as she continued the 5 minute deforestation project on my brow. “Well, I’m going to have to work when the baby comes,” she said. “I just can’t see myself staying home and watching movies all day.”

The loud, deep belly laugh the bounded from me surprised us all and could not have been contrived (had I tried), nor softened to a dainty cough. Did I just hear her right? Is that what she thinks moms like me do all day? I wasn’t feeling quite as endeared now. “Oh, I don’t really watch much TV,” I laughed. No, in between getting dished washed, clothes laundered, toys organized and picked up, floors cleaned, play dates arranged and attended, meals prepared (3x/day), groceries purchased, hurt feelings soothed, scrapes bandaged, play-doh set up and put away, library books picked out and returned, errands run, manners taught, bathrooms cleaned, beds made, garbage out, phone calls returned, menus planned, porches swept, stories read, and shirts ironed…all the while trying to take full advantage of the countless teachable moments every day… I just didn’t seem to find much time for movies. And I didn’t even have an infant anymore. I remember when feeding alone became my full time job—an hour to feed, every 3 hours, round the clock, equals 56 hours of breastfeeding per week! As this mommy-to-be leaned over my face, all I could think was, “This woman’s world is about to get rocked.”

For my baby shower, my sister had all the ladies, veteran moms in my opinion, write their mothering advice in a pretty little book that was presented to me. One of my dear friends wrote, “Welcome to the toughest job you will ever love.” I don’t think I fully appreciated those words until after my son was born. How could I? How could I know the wonder and awe I would feel as I held him for the first time? How could I know the utter delight I would find in watching and helping him grow? How could I know the depth of love I was capable of having for another human being? I would die for this little boy. And how could I possibly know how challenged, stretched and vulnerable I would feel when lack of sleep, hormones, and a screaming baby made me feel like I was dying for this little boy? How could I know how profoundly my life would change?

As I now wear maternity clothes again and contemplate going back to baby-land with our baby due next year, I am comforted by these words:

He shall feed His flock like a shepherd. He shall gather the lambs in his arms and carry them in His bosom, and shall gently lead those who are with young. (Isaiah 40:11)

Although parenting is the toughest job I know, I also know that He will feed me and my family. He will provide for me, in every way. He gives us the wisdom we beg Him for, the love to carry us through, and the privilege of passing His truth and love to the next generation. He will gently lead those of us with young. He knows it’s a tough job. But it’s a job I wouldn’t trade for anything, not even a chance to watch all the movies in the world.

Smiles

2010-05-16T21:39:00.008-04:00

If you have been in Christian circles for even a short length of time, you have probably met her. At first you were impressed. Perhaps a little overwhelmed. You definitely admired her. Inwardly, you hoped to be like her. Over time, you began to feel frustrated by her lack of ... being normal? Perhaps you even asked yourself, "Does she ever sleep? How does she have time for it all? Does she ever go out for coffee with her friends?" Then, you may have started avoiding her altogether because you only compared yourself to her and saw your shortcomings glaring back at you. Yes, I'm sure you know her. The elusively perfect Proverbs 31 woman.

It as been helpful for me to remember that the Proverbs 31 woman is an ideal to live up to. It is not a snapshot of "a day in the life of..." It is a picture of an entire life well lived. The Proverbs 31 woman probably did not have time to buy real estate and manage her vineyard while she had babies at home (although the part about her lamp not going out at night, might very well be referring to that season!). I wonder if her husband was already sitting in the respected position at the city gate when they were newlyweds just home from the honeymoon? Or was that referring to a position he eventually reached in life with her influence, support, and goodness (see verse 12)? It was when her children were grown and her husband seasoned, that she received the highest praise. Here is a picture of a woman who had the long view, and, as Jonathan Edwards resolved, "lived with all [her] might, while [she did] live."

One verse in this passage, however, has always eluded me personally. It is verse 25. "She smiles at the future." Some versions even say, "She can laugh at the days to come." Really? No worrying, fretting, wondering if all this hard work will pay off? No furrowed brow in the middle of night, wondering if your kids will stray from the faith, if you will live long enough to see the fruit of your hands, if God really notices and cares?

I recently received some insight into this issue. Last week, I heard a pastor speak from Psalm 121, addressing mothers on Mother's Day. As he spoke about the keeping power of God expressed in the psalm, he gave a reason for why a woman can confidently look to the future. As mothers, our tendency may be to look ahead and let our hearts be consumed with dread and worry at the myriad scenarios our minds can generate. We have all been there and done this when the anxieties of life take hold. But the problem with these imaginary scenarios is that they often leave out one very important thing. Actually, one very important person: God.

Pause for a moment and consider: Has God led you? Has He not shown His goodness and mercy, following you all of your days, right up until now? Hasn't He proven His faithfulness time and time again? Take one minute and time yourself. Think about all the ways God has been good to you and how He currently is caring for you. Now let your thoughts of the future include Him. We do not know what the details will be. Honestly, we do not know what a day holds. But God will be there, just as surely as He has been and as He is now. He will be there.

With God, the God of Israel, there is always hope. He promises in His eternal Word to work all things together for the good of His people and for His glory. Not only are there blessings to come, but God, God Himself, your Rock, Defender, Deliverer, Advocate, Shelter, Helper, Strength, and Reward will be there. If this is true, how can she not smile at the future? So, the next time I find my mind wandering into the future, imagining scenes fed by my fears, I will stop. I will shake off those thoughts and remember. I will remember that my God is in the future just as well as the past. And I just might even laugh.

40 Days of Gratitude

2009-10-20T17:33:00.004-04:00

We are already counting down. Every year is a new challenge to make Thanksgiving meaningful. I once borrowed an idea from my sister and did a Thanksgiving Tree (think twigs in a vase and dried leaves--with thankful sayings written on them--strung and hanging on the branches.) I have also made leaf cut-outs on colorful paper--with thankful sayings on them--and taped them to the window. When the boys were preschool age, we made paper turkeys with colors feathers where we wrote, of course, the things we were thankful for. All fun and a deliberate attempt to get us to think about our blessings.

This past weekend, I was contemplating the upcoming holiday and realized we were exactly 40 days away from the Thanksgiving holiday. So I quickly made up some pages to print out and put them in some journals. I got the family involved and we prepared our construction paper covers, which we decorated with markers and glitter pens. The pages have a fill-in-the-blank-style entries for each day from October 18-November 26: "I am thankful for..." with lines to fill in and with space to draw a picture. I am excited to see what we all decide to write. I hope this might shake up our naturally complaining hearts to see the goodness all around us in a fresh way.

What Am I Looking For?

2009-10-20T17:29:00.002-04:00

If we look for flaws in others, we will find them. If we look for evidence of grace, we will find that, too. The one gives us a higher view of ourselves. The other gives us a higher view of our God. It's our choice.

Potato Chip Factory

2009-10-16T21:49:00.009-04:00

With a willing friend, the boys and I toured Herr's Foods, Inc. in Nottingham, PA today. Among other snack foods, Herr's makes potato chips. We are looking at "processes" this fall--how products get from concept to you. (For some cool videos on the subject, see http://manufacturing.stanford.edu/hetm.html). I expected an educational tour of the factory to explain the manufacturing process and maybe get a sample of their product at the end. We got both. In fact, I was really impressed with how they use all the by-products of potato making, including selling starch to a paper factory, feeding scraps to local Angus cattle, and heating the building/factory with the heat from the cooling potato chips!

Most of all, I was pleasantly surprised by the human story that was clearly the undercurrent of this thriving business. Jim and Mim Herr (isn't that great? rhyming names!) founded the company 1946 with a few kettles, a potato slicer and peeler, and a delivery truck. Now it is a company led by all of their 5 children, with 1400 employees, 500 sales routes and many, many snack products. The Herrs have spent their lifetime building on good business practices, overcoming obstacles (such as a devastating factory fire in 1951) and being faithful to live by common sense and wisdom. At the end of the tour, a free little booklet of a paraphrase of the book of Proverbs from Jim Herr is available. In the front cover he states that he has tried to live according to these Biblical principles, in dependence on the Holy Spirit and the grace of Christ.

I got way more than asked for on this field trip. These are the days that make homeschooling especially sweet. Although I would not want my name to rhyme with my husband's (if you know us, you would understand!), I hope, like the Herrs, we can build on a sure foundation and bless others with our lives. I hope my sons are inspired by the kind of perseverance, skill, and business practice we saw today.

I think I'll eat more potato chips.

Baby Food

2009-10-15T22:17:00.007-04:00

There is something extremely gratifying to me about making my own baby food. Not only is it economical, it is tasty (yes, I've tried it) and easy to make. I love to see my baby eating what I have prepared. Last week, I made peas (pureed) and applesauce.

Step 1: Put about an inch of water in a pot/pan.

Step 2: Prepare your food. For instance, peel, core and slice apples. Or pour the bag of frozen peas in the pot! You can use carrots, pears (cored and sliced, with peels on), green beans (I use frozen), sweet potatoes (scrub skins but leave them on for extra nutrients), prunes, etc., etc.

Step 3: Cook over medium heat until softened.

Step 4: Put all contents of pan into blender. Add water if necessary. Blend on high.

Step 5: Pour into containers. I use 2.5 oz, 4 oz, or ice cube trays. Freeze or refrigerate. Reheat before serving.

So easy, and baby loves it! I prepared about 18 servings in about 30 minutes.

Jeans

2009-10-10T20:58:00.005-04:00

A few days ago, I turned the calendar over to see October looking back at me. To me, October in the Northeast means the tips of maple leaves are just starting to turn orange and red. The air turns crisp, dry and cool. It means apple picking, corn mazes and pumpkin patches. School buses, mums on front porches and lawns, and decorative scarecrows through out suburbia. I like fall. As the temperatures drop, October means putting away the shorts and short sleeves and getting out long sleeved shirts, sweaters and jeans.

Now, my jeans and I have a very special relationship. For as long as I can remember, I've liked jeans. When I was in third grade, I received a pair hand-me-down Jordache jeans. I wore those jeans out. I loved those jeans. I remember the skinny jeans of the '80's, with the zippers at the ankle. Sometimes we would fold the cuff of old jeans and roll them up for the same skinny ankle affect. Then, there was the "relaxed fit" of the '90's. I've enjoyed the flared leg and boot cut of the last decade. Looks like skinny jeans are back, but I have yet to buy a pair. Jeans: the essential and versitale staple of the winter wardrobe. So, I pulled out my bin labeled "Fall/Winter Clothes." I took off the plastic lid to see my dear old jeans in there, like a bunch of old friends.

I took out a pair and held them up. I hesitated to try them on. I had not been in these jeans for 18 months. I'd been working on getting back into shape after having a baby last spring, and getting back into my pre-baby jeans would be the ultimate test of whether my work-outs accomplished anything. I was dreading the idea of buying new jeans in a size I didn't plan to wear for more than 1 season. Even more, I was dreading the idea of still carrying around more baby fat than I'd care to admit. But the moment of truth could not be delayed: one leg, two legs, over the hips (that's a good sign) and completely zippered and buttoned. Phew!! What a relief! WOO HOO! I suddenly became shiny and happy, and dropped to my knees in gratitude and smiles! It's good to be back.

I'm sorry for the shallowness of this post, but a pair of good-fitting jeans does wonders for a girl's psyche.

Prayer

2009-10-03T09:03:00.008-04:00

One of my favorite topics. Ten years ago, I read a book by Elisabeth George in which she challenged homemaking women to make Five Folders. These are the subjects, she said, in which you will become an expert. She explained that if you focus on these FIVE topics and start collecting as much information as possible and working towards expertise, over time you will be accomplished, even as a busy homemaker. So, one of the topics I picked then and there was prayer. I am by no means an expert at prayer, but deliberately focusing on this subject in the last 10 years has helped me grow in it. Back then, I made a few commitments regarding prayer:

1) When I say I am going to pray for someone, actually do it. And do it again. And again.
2) Take the command to "pray without ceasing" (1 Thessalonians 5) seriously. If God said to do it, it must be possible to do, in His strength. I am growing in this discipline. I have a long way to go, but, thankfully, I have also come a long way.
3) Learn from Jesus' model of prayer. I try to begin prayer with praise and adoration of the One who invites us (amazingly wonderful!) to speak with Him.

This topic of prayer is so rich and deep and wide, I will likely write on it often. Lately, I have been thinking about the specificity of prayer. In other words, prayers for blanket blessings are good, but specific prayers are better. If prayer is designed by God to keep us in relationship with Him, doesn't it make sense to bring the details and specifics to Him? Doesn't it make sense to ask for daily bread, in day by day dependence, rather than for a life of being well-fed? Prayer keeps us going back to the well that never dries up, to the Living Bread. He says that we have not because we ask not (James 4). He invites us to be part of moving mountains, in His name. I am encouraged to pray specifically, often, and much. As John Piper said, "Load His shoulders down, if you believe they are strong." He can handle it.

Sleepover

2009-10-03T08:44:00.010-04:00

My young birds are learning to fly on their own. When they left yesterday afternoon for the sleepover, I had this weird combination of feelings churning around inside: Worry - Will they be ok? Yes, they will. They are in good hands. Pride - They are growing up! So happy to see them trotting off confidently after a hug good-bye, without a look back. Happiness - They are going to have a great time! They have been talking about this all week! But the dominant feeling was Empty. I walked back into my house, and the baby was napping. Hubby was not home from work. And it was raining outside. A quiet combination that only exacerbated the Empty. I fast-forwarded a few years and wondered if this what it feels like to have an Empty Nest. I let myself think and feel this for a few minutes, because when those boys come bounding into our house again with all their energy, accidentally leaving shoes and jackets by the front door floor, pounding up the stairs and talking loud enough to wake the baby, I will be happy and not annoyed. I will tell them I missed them, but in an I-love-you kind of way, not in a Don't-leave-me kind of way. And I will gladly listen to their breathless reports of all that they did on their 24 hour adventure away from home, because it is good they are learning to fly.

Beginnings

2009-09-29T22:06:00.006-04:00

The quotable C.S. Lewis said, "With the possible exception of the equator, everything has a beginning." So this begins my blog, conceivably scratched into cyberspace for infinity. You will likely find me writing on a variety of subjects which are both close to my heart and fresh in the experience of this 30-something, homeschooling mother: my faith, prayer, relationships, parenting, marriage, my sons, education, culture and an occasional political opinion. The best way to start is by starting, so let's go.