At a recent speaking event, a young vivacious women, approached me. In a hushed tone, she shared, the same quilt ridden dilemma, that I have heard countless times. "I rarely read my bible." And she went on to explain, that when she does take time to read it, she forgets what she read or has a hard time applying the teaching to everyday life.
Boy, can I relate. Been there. Many times.
There have been situations where, when it is time to leave for church, I would find my bible were I set it down, LAST SUNDAY. Oh, the guilt.
I used to say, "When my children get older, I will have time." Well, they got older....and...still the same, sad, song!
I shared with her, through my own mistakes, what works for me.
One day, I went to the local Christian bookstore, plopped right down in the aisle between the devotional bookcase section, and started leafing through the pages of "daily devotionals".
I started with well known authors, whom I had developed a trust, for speaking the truth.
I searched until I found one that suited me.
It had a short daily reading assignment, in the Bible, along with a few paragraphs, by the author, on making the scripture relevant.
The DAILY reading assignment was important, that helped keep me accountable each day of the week.
It was relevant and meaningful. And I started to look forward to reading everyday. Then I would even expand my reading further as I looked up "bonus" scriptures that went with the text.
I also made a promise to myself, that I would not read the newspaper, or any other publication, until I read God's word.
Do I miss days? Yes, I have. But, it is a rare occurrence now that I have my "accountability partner", my daily devotional.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
My Shelter-It works for me!
Several weeks ago I talked about having a "shelter", a hiding place.
Often, a "little" shelter will suffice. A hot bath, back rub, getting my nails done, curling up with a good book, coffee with a friend...you get the idea.
But a few weeks ago, I told my man, Curt, that I felt a "need" for some serious hiding to happen!
So, Sunday afternoon, we were off to northern Missouri, to a beautiful cabin tucked away among hundreds of peaceful acres. A gift of respite, through the gracious,generous hands, of our brother and sister-in-law who let us stay there.
48 glorious hours. No Internet, no cell phone, no TV. NO PROBLEM!!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
The GIFT of a NAP!
A Nap. Sometimes, I just NEED one.
Not always, WANT one. There is just to much to do! But sometimes, somebody, just needs to send me to my room for a NAP.
Last week, my 22 year old son, Levi, was home with me. I was dragging and cranky. Really out-of-sorts. I have no idea why. I just WAS.
About 1:00, he took one look at me, and said, "Mom, you need a nap". Just like that. No disrespect in his voice or authoritative tone.
I came up with all kind of excuses for not taking a "time out" nap. Levi listened, looked at me again, and repeated himself. "Mom, you really need a nap".
So, I did nap. Two whole hours of blissful sleep.
How long can one lay prone, in slumber, and still call it a nap?
I felt so much better when I awoke. Ready to forge ahead with a better attitude.
I even thanked Levi for suggesting it.
The Nap, it is a wonderful gift!
Not always, WANT one. There is just to much to do! But sometimes, somebody, just needs to send me to my room for a NAP.
Last week, my 22 year old son, Levi, was home with me. I was dragging and cranky. Really out-of-sorts. I have no idea why. I just WAS.
About 1:00, he took one look at me, and said, "Mom, you need a nap". Just like that. No disrespect in his voice or authoritative tone.
I came up with all kind of excuses for not taking a "time out" nap. Levi listened, looked at me again, and repeated himself. "Mom, you really need a nap".
So, I did nap. Two whole hours of blissful sleep.
How long can one lay prone, in slumber, and still call it a nap?
I felt so much better when I awoke. Ready to forge ahead with a better attitude.
I even thanked Levi for suggesting it.
The Nap, it is a wonderful gift!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Tennis shoes, teens and time
The pile of shoes, in the bottom pictue, collects on my sun room floor every Wednesday evening.
These shoes belong to teens. Teens who struggle, wonder, question, debate and search for firm ground, to stand upon, in their beliefs.
The slippers in the top picture, wait in the living room, on Wednesday evening, for their owners. Parents who have struggled, wondered, questioned, and searched for firm ground, to stand upon, in their beliefs, and have FOUND IT!
Many Wednesday evenings, as parents, we long for our slippers. To wind down and start to bid "farewell" to the day. It takes all the energy we can summon to "welcome" 20, high-energy adolescents into our home.
I am just being honest. I do not always see it as the privilege I should. And it IS a honor. That these young people, with all the choices of activities offered to them, CHOOSE to be here. At my house, learning on WHOM they can stand upon.
Sweet Tea and Slaughters, KY
This past weekend, I was privileged to spend time with a group of wonderful women at Mt. Gilead Church, in Slaughters, KY.
These dear sisters can cook and bake like non-other! And the sweet tea, AMAZING!
The warm smiles, the welcoming words and the "dog eared" bibles they carried, instantly told me that I was in the midst of some mighty FAITHFUL women of GOD.
Each of the attendees, as they introduced themselves, spoke of God's faithfulness to them, through trials and joys of life. I sat in awe, of the power ,of the living God we serve.
So, my new, dear friends, in Slaughters, I thank you, for allowing me the priviledge, to be with you. You ministered to my heart in a mighty way!
These dear sisters can cook and bake like non-other! And the sweet tea, AMAZING!
The warm smiles, the welcoming words and the "dog eared" bibles they carried, instantly told me that I was in the midst of some mighty FAITHFUL women of GOD.
Each of the attendees, as they introduced themselves, spoke of God's faithfulness to them, through trials and joys of life. I sat in awe, of the power ,of the living God we serve.
So, my new, dear friends, in Slaughters, I thank you, for allowing me the priviledge, to be with you. You ministered to my heart in a mighty way!
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Things DO change!
This past weekend we drove to Missouri for our niece's wedding. The wedding was lovely and the bride beautiful.
Because of previous commitments, our son, Levi, 22,was the only one of our children to accompany my husband and I.
As we traveled along interstate 72, the dialogue between the 3 of us was sweet and rich. We discussed diverse topics from the mundane to complex. It was a relaxing and enjoyable ride.
I just laughed out loud, when I reminisced back, to a event that took place 6 years earlier. It involved a "road trip" to the same destination, for a different niece's wedding.
I wrote about it. And following is the adventure.
We had attended a family wedding in another state and were rolling along a remote highway, in our suburban, headed for home. Our 4 sons had finished telling stories about their day and had fallen asleep. My husband and I were seated in the front. The oldest and third child were in the captain chairs while the youngest and second born sat in the back.
I was enjoying the peace in the vehicle when I heard a faint voice say, “Water.” I recognized the voice as that of my 9 year-old youngest son. “We do not have anything to drink, son,” I told him. He said again, only this time more strained and desperate, “Water.” One of his brothers, frustrated for having been woken replied, “We don’t have any!”
With that it was as if Mount St. Helen itself had erupted. My 9 year-old heaved a partially digested wedding banquet all over the back of my oldest son and finished off in my second born’s brand new shoes, which he had slipped off for the ride home.
What happened next would have been a great study for a psychology class. Everyone in the vehicle responded in a way that was very characteristic of their personality. Our neat, tidy first born freaked out because he had vomit up his back. The third son, who hates conflict, was trying to get out of the suburban before it had even stopped. And “Mr. Style” with the brand-new shoes was yelling “My Shoes, My Shoes.” My husband did what many fathers would do. He pulled over while saying, “Why didn't you tell us you were going to be sick?” And I, the overprotective mother, made my way through the suburban yelling, “Everyone quit picking on him, he cannot help it.”
My first thought was how to clean up the mess. We were miles from the nearest exit, so I told my sons to take off their dress shirts. My analytical first born was still figuring out how all of this mess could come from such a little stomach, so I grabbed his shirt, pulled it off of him and smeared vomit up over his head in the process. He was not happy.
A short time later we were back on the road with 3 shirtless boys, 2 speechless parents and a 9 year-old that keep saying, “I will never look at barbecue weenie dogs at a reception the same again.” And neither will you!
So today, I am unwrapping the gift of change. They DO grow up, and it can be SWEET!
Because of previous commitments, our son, Levi, 22,was the only one of our children to accompany my husband and I.
As we traveled along interstate 72, the dialogue between the 3 of us was sweet and rich. We discussed diverse topics from the mundane to complex. It was a relaxing and enjoyable ride.
I just laughed out loud, when I reminisced back, to a event that took place 6 years earlier. It involved a "road trip" to the same destination, for a different niece's wedding.
I wrote about it. And following is the adventure.
We had attended a family wedding in another state and were rolling along a remote highway, in our suburban, headed for home. Our 4 sons had finished telling stories about their day and had fallen asleep. My husband and I were seated in the front. The oldest and third child were in the captain chairs while the youngest and second born sat in the back.
I was enjoying the peace in the vehicle when I heard a faint voice say, “Water.” I recognized the voice as that of my 9 year-old youngest son. “We do not have anything to drink, son,” I told him. He said again, only this time more strained and desperate, “Water.” One of his brothers, frustrated for having been woken replied, “We don’t have any!”
With that it was as if Mount St. Helen itself had erupted. My 9 year-old heaved a partially digested wedding banquet all over the back of my oldest son and finished off in my second born’s brand new shoes, which he had slipped off for the ride home.
What happened next would have been a great study for a psychology class. Everyone in the vehicle responded in a way that was very characteristic of their personality. Our neat, tidy first born freaked out because he had vomit up his back. The third son, who hates conflict, was trying to get out of the suburban before it had even stopped. And “Mr. Style” with the brand-new shoes was yelling “My Shoes, My Shoes.” My husband did what many fathers would do. He pulled over while saying, “Why didn't you tell us you were going to be sick?” And I, the overprotective mother, made my way through the suburban yelling, “Everyone quit picking on him, he cannot help it.”
My first thought was how to clean up the mess. We were miles from the nearest exit, so I told my sons to take off their dress shirts. My analytical first born was still figuring out how all of this mess could come from such a little stomach, so I grabbed his shirt, pulled it off of him and smeared vomit up over his head in the process. He was not happy.
A short time later we were back on the road with 3 shirtless boys, 2 speechless parents and a 9 year-old that keep saying, “I will never look at barbecue weenie dogs at a reception the same again.” And neither will you!
So today, I am unwrapping the gift of change. They DO grow up, and it can be SWEET!
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