The Three C’s to a Joyless Life

Do you want your joy sucked out of you like a balloon, blown up taut, then released by a little boy who gleefully watches it dart full speed from ceiling to corner to floor, limp and shriveled? Do you want your joy sucked out of you? Here are three easy steps. However, you don’t even need to do all three! Just pick one and enough of your joy will be diminished that you may not even need the other two!

Compare

Compare yourself to your neighbor, your sister, that other mom at playgroup, your “sisters in Christ” at church, the weather person on TV…. Anybody really. Compare your body, your clothes, your socio-economic status, your home, your husband, your fitness level, your car, your job, your children, your smile, your hair, your toenails…. Anything really. After all, you were made to be like them. You were made to be like that. Right?

Complain

Complain about the weather, the food, the dog, the kids, the spouse, the tech problems, the chores, the laundry, the dishes, the mess, the leak, the traffic, the old car, the new car, the old house, the new house, how long it’s taking, that it’s going too fast. Complain about ALL of it. After all, we were made for complaining. Weren’t we?

Compromise

Compromise on what your really hold dear. It’s ok. Just take a step or two away. It’s not that important, is it? Compromise on who you really are. It’s ok. Maybe who you really are isn’t what this world needs. Maybe who you really are is a bit of a mistake, and really you need to be more like … oh, here we are at step one, comparing!

As you can see, joylessness need only be around your next corner!

* * * * *

YOU were made with PURPOSE in the IMAGE OF GOD.


GIVE THANKS in ALL things, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.


REJOICE always, PRAY without ceasing, in everything GIVE THANKS.


GUARD YOUR HEART with all diligence, for out of the heart spring all the issues of life.


BUY THE TRUTH and sell it not.


HOLD FAST to these things.


ABOVE all, put on LOVE.

Purpose in the Pain

Sometimes people express amazement at the fact that I birthed 2 of my 3 children naturally, that is, with no medical intervention to manage the pain. I have had people shake their heads, smile, and look at me in wonder. Why? I guess because I chose that kind of pain when alternatives were available to me. I honestly don't think of it that way. It wasn't butterflies and pixie dust, trust me. But I would not trade the experience I had for anything. Perhaps there was some naiveté in my decision. (But, then again, I did do it a second time!) Really, I was compelled by several factors. At the top of the list was a belief that the full experience, the way it was intended to happen naturally, would be manageable because there was purpose in the pain.

On the night of Jesus' betrayal and arrest, he spent a long time talking with his disciples. You can read the conversation, which is really more of a monologue, in John chapters 14-17. As a follower of Jesus, when I read these words, I blissfully sit in the beauty and truth of it all. His choicest, kindest, most encouraging words were saved for this night. When he could have rightfully been the one in need of encouragement (he was going to be tortured the next day!) he poured out beautiful words which he knew his friends would need to fall back on in the days and years ahead. Speaking of the difficulties that were about to come upon them, of which they were sheepishly ignorant, Jesus said,

Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. (John 16:20-22 NIV)

He means to encourage his disciples with this great truth: the present pain has purpose and will be turned to joy one day. Not only would Jesus' friends find themselves holed up in their homes, confused and shaken, after his violent murder, but Jesus' friends through the ages have and will find themselves in the most painful, confusing, doubt-inducing situations. Sometimes we are sad. Sometimes we are angry. Sometimes it feels intolerable to live one more day in a world so broken by death and decay. Jesus says, "Hold on. Now is your time of grief. But that is not the end of the story. I will see you again. You will experience endless and unspeakable joy."

I can't help but think that Jesus encouraged himself with this truth in the garden of Gethsemene. While asking his father if there was possibly another way, Jesus experienced anguish. This is not a different, less acute kind of anguish or sorrow than we feel. Remember, Isaiah paints Jesus as the "man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." John Eldridge, in his book Beautiful Outlaw writes:

We who worship Jesus Christ hold fast to the belief that he was God. “Very God of very God,” as the Nicene Creed states. The heroic actions and miraculous powers of Jesus’ life attest to it. So, when we read what we would call the more human moments, we feel that Jesus was sort of . . . cheating. With a nod and a wink we know that what’s really happening is that Einstein has dropped in to take the first-grade math quiz. Mozart is playing a measure in the kindergarten song flute choir. After all, we’re talking about Jesus here. The guy walked on water, raised Lazarus from the dead. He never broke a sweat, right? But then, what do you make of that terrible sweat in Gethsemane?

Deeply distressed. Overwhelmed with sorrow. Anguished.

This doesn’t sound like somebody cheating to me. He begs his Father, with tears, that this awful cup might be taken from him. Please, let there be some other way. He doesn’t want to do it. Sweat like blood pouring from his tormented brow. He pleads with his Father, and then he pleads a second time, and then a third. Does this sound like Einstein adding two and two?

How, in his humanity, could he bear it? How could he endure being alone, forsaken by his friends, betrayed, unjustly accused, lied about, mocked, humiliated, made a spectacle, physically tortured in the worst way, and the pinnacle (a suffering, bless God, we will never know because he did) his father turning from him and pouring out justice on him, the sin-bearer. How could Jesus endure it? The answer is in Hebrews 12:2. Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, for the joy set before him, endured the cross. The key to the ability to endure suffering? Faith. Holding onto to the God who has a purpose in it. There is a day of joy to come.

When my children come to me in all their drama, as their world is ending over something like a video game freezing up or a favorite snack absent from the pantry, I help them through the moment and fix what I can. But my parental perspective keeps me unflustered. The world will only end once, and it's not going to be today. (And I'm pretty sure it won't end over video games or snacks!) If I try to explain how silly their anxiety seems, it is only hurtful to them. I just love them through it and know they will grow up. Perhaps later the world will end over pimples or fender-benders. From my parental perspective, I know they will not only survive but probably mature through some hardship. So it is with our heavenly Father. He sees what we can't see. Someday we will understand.

Paul got it right: I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. (Romans 8:18 NIV) If we could consistently hold on to this hope, how differently we would live! In his book A Reason For God, Tim Keller has a chapter called "How Could a Good God Allow Suffering?" he writes:

I think we need something more than knowing God is with us in our difficulties. We also need hope that our suffering is "not in vain." The Biblical view of things is resurrection-- not a future that is just a consolation for the life we never had but a restoration of the life you always wanted. This means that every horrible thing that ever happened will not only be undone and repaired but will in some way make the eventual glory and joy even greater...an infinitely more glorious world than if there had never been the need for bravery, endurance, sacrifice, or salvation.

The Easter season sets a table for us to taste again, not only fun treats like chocolate eggs and Peeps, but the noble themes of sacrifice, suffering, and glorious resurrection. Any joy or hope we encounter from savoring our Savior is merely a tiny foretaste of the deeper joy to come. With a belief that there is purpose in the pain, perhaps a settled perseverance can calm our lives.

The creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.... We ourselves, who have the first-fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we are saved... And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:18, 21-24, 28 NIV)

A Post-Irene Prayer

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

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

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

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

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?

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.