What I Want My Daughters to Know

I’m blessed with three amazing children, two of them daughters. While one is well on her way to life outside our home, one still remains in the nest. My hope is that I have taught and am teaching them these concepts. Some have been pulled from Lisa-Jo Baker’s blog; others are original.

1.       Jesus loves every single inch of you, inside and out. No.Matter.What!

2.       Who you are is more important than what you do.

3.       You bring more joy to my life than you can possibly comprehend.

4.       Nothing you tell me can make me stop loving you.

5.       No matter what you go through in life, God is always with you.

6.       Laugh a LOT.

7.       Forgive. Bitterness only hurts you.

8.       Put others first; yourself last.

9.       Chocolate is a necessity.

10.   Your body is yours. A delicious gift to be shared with your husband. I promise it’s worth waiting to unwrap together.

11.   Marriage is an act of courage, commitment and sacrifice. It’s also the most fun you’ll ever have with your best friend.

12.   Be the friend you wish you had.

13.   Real life is always better than online.

14.   I’m more interested in your growth than your happiness.

15.   We need each other.

16.   There’s no such thing as perfect.

17.   Always eat ice cream!

18.   Beauty is a state of mind, not a state of body.

19.   You can’t control what others think about you. Let it go.

20.   Honesty and truth are better than deception and lies.

21.   Home is not where we live but who we love.

22.   Sometimes we just need to cry.

23.   The best way never to worry about anyone gossiping about you is never to gossip about anybody.

24.   You can always come home.

25.   You’ll always be my baby girl.

This is not an exhaustive list of everything I desire to teach my girls. It’s such an immense job to tackle in this world that counteracts and undermines good values. And, where I’ve failed in so many areas, I pray that God fills in all the gaps!

What would you add to this list?

Never Say Never

I used to say to my homeschool friends when they were relating a challenging day with their children or complaining about the hardship of spending 24/7 with the little boogers, “That’s why I put mine in school, so my kids stay alive!” My teasing didn’t deter them from what they believed God had impressed upon them to do, despite the trials of teaching their own.  They pressed on while my two oldest graduated from high school, both earning college scholarships—one now graduated and newly married, the other in her second year of her pursuit of a nursing degree. With 12 year old Maddie bringing up the rear, I planned to continue sending her through public education just like her siblings.

Then I had to eat my words, “I will homeschool when hunger on earth is staved and terrorists don’t exist.” Pretty safe bet that I won’t be homeschooling any time soon. My hubby would occasionally ask, “Why don’t we homeschool?” to which I would sarcastically say, “Easy for you to say—you go to work every day and don’t have to give up ‘ministry’ lunches like I would have to.” And then…and then, I was sitting across from a very dear homeschooling expert asking her questions about uh, you know, homeschooling  when she shrieked in Panera, “Shut up, girl! I thought you were going to ask me questions about Bible study.”  I was exceedingly clear that at this point, we were exploring our options about this strange phenomenon. But, let me back up to what brought about this 180 degree turn.

A string of events instigated this investigation of something I said I would never do in a billion years. To keep it fairly short and sweet, I’ll summarize. An odd conversation I had with Miss Maddie’s teacher originated a germ of a thought in the homeschool direction. She asked me a bizarre question one day, “Is Maddie still on medication for ADD?” What in the world??

“Uh, Maddie’s never been on medication for ADD,” I responded. Not that I didn’t think she could definitely use it sometimes. Heck, I could even use it!

“Oh. Well…” she sounded a bit confused. “It’s just that some of her test scores indicate that maybe she needs special accommodation.  She has no problem with the day to day school work, but…” Oh believe me, I know she needs a little extra help in the focus department! Anyhow, as we continued our conversation, the wheels on the bus began to go round and round in my head.

Add to that a school board survey asking for parental input regarding changing the school year to a more balanced one to which they neglected to consider parents’ opinions and decided arbitrarily to do what they wanted. Not to mention that the board had made decisions the year before affecting the length of the school day without considering parental input. Oh, yes, there was a committee of strategically placed people who perhaps were unmarried university students with no children.  Am I living in Stalin’s Russia, I wonder?  What’s our recourse against a renegade school board?

In addition, Maddie had transferred to a new gymnastics facility an hour away, and we were traveling 4 times a week for 3-4 hour practices each night. As a 6^th grader, the late hours were wearing on her small physique. Getting up for school in the morning was a challenge and with junior high just around the corner, she would be forced to awaken an hour earlier. Waking her in the morning was like encountering a wild animal. Thinking the future through to its logical conclusion, even with getting as much homework completed as possible in the hour long car drive to gymnastics, Maddie faced the likely prospect of 6 hours of sleep a night. Sure, many teens survive on that, but they are bears to live with.

Thus, with all those pieces of the puzzle, homeschool was a picture that began to form as a reasonable, even pleasing, solution. Sure, my ‘ministry’ lunches might suffer, as well as my daily routine, but the more I think about it, the more homeschooling just makes sense. To top it off, Maddie is completely on board, excited about it. No homework after school, no in school distractions to distract her, no ISTEP testing! What’s not to like about that?

So, we are taking this scary leap into homeschooling this year, with friends still shaking their heads at the woman who said, “Never, ever will I homeschool.”

A Tween's Example

Every night when we tuck Maddie in, we take turns praying. For the past several years, on Maddie’s night to pray, she talks to God about Uncle Tim’s back. Every.single.time. One particular night, she asked me, “Why doesn’t God answer my prayer? How come Uncle Tim’s back is still hurting?”

“I don’t know, Maddie. I just know God is not like a magician. He doesn’t simply wave a magic wand and make everything the way we want it. Sometimes, He wants us to learn to trust Him in the midst of our unanswered prayers.”

Through the years of modeling prayer, we’ve prayed about school, friendships, sickness, bad attitudes and everything else in between. This little girl is grasping the importance of talking to Jesus about everything. A few weeks ago, she heard that her dear friend’s mother was experiencing some health issues. She immediately created a card, mailed it and began praying for her. Everyday, she’d ask, “Do you think she got my card yet, Mom?”

One day, I received a text from this sweet friend relaying thanks to my daughter for the card and the request she had placed in the prayer basket at church. My friend just happened to be on the 24 hour prayer chain that particular day and cried as she read Maddie’s heartfelt request for God to heal. It moved me too knowing that my daughter is realizing the importance of crying out to Jesus for every need.

I am often proud of my children for their school and sports accomplishments. But this particular day, Maddie’s developing prayer habit for those in need surpassed any champion medal she could’ve received. Her commitment to bring someone suffering before the God of the universe caused me to ponder my own passion to pray. What a beautiful reminder that God desires that our first impulse be to bring our concerns before Him, large or small.

In fact, a few days later, Maddie rattled off her own prayer request before boarding the school bus. “Hey, can you pray that I’m nice to Clay today and that I do well on my test?” How grateful I am that God hears our sincere petitions for kindness to that person who is difficult to love. Maddie’s example reminds me to bring all my concerns to my Savior who hears me whenever I call.   

Barn Swallows and Babies

The barn swallow headed straight for me, like a war plane honing in on its target. It zoomed in close, veering off at the last second. All I wanted to do was turn the sprinkler on the bone dry garden. Instead, I held the sprinkler up in the air fighting off a half-crazed bird intent on pecking me to death. I don’t know if the neighbors could see the spectacle—the bizarre wet-headed blonde waving a sprinkler yelling, “Get away from me. I’m not going to hurt your babies! Get away!” At least no one from the mental hospital drove up to take me away. What I do know is that I dropped the sprinkler and darted into the house without turning on the water.  Thirsty vegetables weren’t worth risking my life. I sure didn’t want to be the next day’s news, “Loony lady pecked to death by savage swallows.”

Mama or papa bird surmised I was a tad too close to their precious nesting babies. Every year, barn swallows build a mud nest right below our deck. Every year, we wait for the eggs to hatch, peering frequently through the slats to view the progress. As they grow, nearing the time when they will leave their protected life, the parentals make frequent flybys, swooping in close to ward off any potential danger. I know I won’t hurt their little cargo—and frequently vocalize that to them—but they definitely don’t understand my message. Their instinct screams, “Danger alert!” Locking on their target, they whoosh down towards the victim, who scrambles to safety.

As parents we act the same way with our babies. Our protective nature heightens when we sense threats to our own children. When our children are toddlers, we keep a close rein on them in malls, grocery stores and when crossing streets. Before play dates we perform thorough background checks and submit fingerprints of those living in the home. We carefully cross examine our teens with who, what, when, where and why before they are allowed to leave our presence. Our suspicious antenna is constantly raised at outside forces seeking harm to our children, no matter their age.

Let’s face it, whether our children are two months old or 18 years old, we keep our eyes peeled for predators. When my 11 year old was a toddler, she meandered through stores without a care in the world.  She had no concept of danger. She talked to strangers like they were her best friends and placed trust in anyone.  Thus, when we traveled to Disney World we purchased a harness for her to wear. She called it her “doggie.” I’ll never forget as we entered the gate to Animal Kingdom a woman commenting with disgust to her daughter when she saw our little munchkin attached to this leash.

“I would never have put you in something like that!”

I, overhearing her words, responded, “That’s my daughter, and she wears that for her own protection. Otherwise, she would wander away without once looking back to see if her parents were following her.”

That sufficiently shut up the sassy simpleton.

Parents, like mama birds, protect their young as long as they remain in their care. Before I became a parent with the responsibility of protecting and caring for children, I was a fairly passive person. Not a lot ruffled me. However, I quickly became like the bird diving to ward off enemies once little babies were my concern. I wouldn’t always fight or stand up for myself, but I would go to bat for my children! Until my kids are grown and gone, I will continue to watch for and ward off adversaries.

And the baby birds? A week later, and all is quiet underneath my deck. The babies spread their wings and flew away, the barn swallow parents accomplishing their mission. For a week, I refused to risk my life and stayed away from the fledglings learning to fly. Now I venture to the backyard, gaze at the empty nest and pray for a successful flight for my little ones as well!

Friday Feast

Approximately 24 years I ago, I created a cooking disaster of such epic proportions it is forever seared in my memory. And, it’s pretty much prevented me from buying and preparing a whole chicken.

Let me set the stage for you, and inform you right up front that I blame my mom for this episode. She had baked a scrumptious chicken that literally melted in your mouth a few weeks before. Mom said cooking a chicken was as easy as making Pillsbury biscuits—pop them out and pop them in the oven. No problem. I reminisced about that chicken and thought why not? I’ll give it a shot.

I cooked that chicken to death. Pulled it out of the oven a million times, and parts of it weren’t done. It never fell apart, tender little pieces falling off the bone. The meat gripped tightly to the bone as if hanging on for dear life. Finally, it appeared done enough, and I tired of waiting.

 Sitting at the dinner table, we sawed pieces off until the innards slithered onto the plate. Turning ugly Shrek-like shades with stomachs churning, we immediately lost our appetites. Dinner over, I phoned Mom to ask her about this strange phenomenon. She howled while I held the phone away from my ear. I’m sure the people in the next apartment heard her chortling. After the shrieking stopped, I wondered why she neglected to give me such important information about the chicken. And, why in the world wouldn’t the chicken killers take care of this mess before they arrived at my dinner table?

My whole chicken baking days sufficiently in the toilet, I stick to boneless, skinless chicken breast recipes. It’s a safer bet, and I don’t have to worry about unwanted body parts sliding out. One of my all time favorite crockpot chicken recipes is so easy, my 11 year old couldn’t mess it up! With five minutes preparation time, this recipe works well for busy families.

Slow Cooker Chicken Stroganoff

4 skinless, boneless chicken breasts, cubed

1/8 c. margarine

1 package dry Italian-style salad dressing mix

1 package cream cheese

1 can cream of chicken soup

Put chicken, margarine and dressing mix in slow cooker; mix together and cook on low for 5 to 6 hours. Add cream cheese and soup; mix together and cook on high for another ½ hour or until heated through and warm. Serve over hot, cooked egg noodles.

Enjoy!

Break the Rules?

I’m a die-hard rule-follower who married a man who doesn’t read instruction manuals let alone follow rules religiously. Sometimes a little bitty conflict erupts due to this discrepancy between us.

A few years ago, Tony and I stayed the night in a small town in Indiana. Construction workers were remodeling an old hotel in French Lick, and Tony wanted to see the progress. As we drove down the street, we encountered one of those “danger, do not enter” signs. Tony ignored it and kept driving.

“Wait! We can’t drive down here. Didn’t you see that sign?” I asked.

“Sure, but it’s ok. No one’s going to stop us!”

“Yeah, but we are breaking the rules. We aren’t supposed to drive beyond the sign! Turn around!” I’m panicking, looking around for the swarm of police that are surely waiting around the bend to arrest us.

“It’s fine, Annette. Nothing’s going to happen.” Tony keeps driving towards the palatial hotel ahead.

“Turn around, Tony. We are NOT supposed to be here!” I’m waiting for someone to pounce on us like a cat on a mouse. A gargantuan hotel rises before us, but I can’t appreciate it; I’m too concerned about the trouble we are about to face.

“Wow! Look at that hotel. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, sure. Can we get out of here before someone finds us?”

My risk-taking, adventurous, non-rule follower turns around with a sigh and drives away, my panic ruining the experience. It turns out that we weren’t arrested nor were we mauled by the construction mafia. No one even seemed to care that we took a drive down a do not enter lane. Just this uptight, bossy firstborn!

I struggle with this extreme bent in other ways as well. Frequently, I carry this over to my relationship with God in the form of a checklist. Read my Bible—check. Pray—check. Journal—check. The problem with this is two-fold. If I miss reading Scripture one day, I heap guilt on myself. On the other hand, when I consistently read, journal and pray, I puff with pride. Crossing the Bible off my checklist, following the “rules,” becomes the goal instead of growing in my relationship. When I trade in the rules for a relationship, I’m released from duty and drudgery to love and freedom.  God desires me to experience all that He has for me out of love not law, desire not duty, passion not pressure.

In my little adventure with Tony, I missed enjoying the beauty of the old, restored hotel because I was too focused on the rules. And while rules are absolutely vital to smooth running households, schools, communities and governments, maybe it’s okay to—every once in awhile—enjoy the moment. Love, not my list, should draw me to my Creator.

The Gratitude List

It all began November 6, 2011. Maddie’s Sunday School teacher challenged the class to keep a gratitude journal for one week. If they wrote every day and brought it to church on Sunday, they would receive a special prize. Maddie latched onto the word “prize” like a Black Friday shopper on an early morning deal. Each night, she faithfully listed 20 items. The reason she picked twenty is easy—20 lines on the page means 20 items for which to thank God.

Her first day, she wrote:

1.       Parents/family

2.       Clothes

3.       Toothbrush and toothpaste

4.       Food and clean water

5.       House/shelter

6.       Pencil to write with right now

7.       Paper to write on right now

8.       Hot tub on my deck

9.       Paintings and pictures

10.   School, even if I don’t like it

11.   Homework, even if I don’t like it

12.   Light

13.   God to lead the way through my life

14.   Books

15.   Coupons

16.   Clocks

17.   Timers

18.   Glasses

19.   Contacts

20.   Chairs

At the end of the week, Maddie recorded 140 items (many duplicates). She brought her journal to class and chose her bag of bubble gum prize.

Since November, with no extra incentive, Maddie diligently scribbles in her gratitude journal nightly. She’s amassed 1200 things she’s thankful for from the entire alphabet to love at first sight, from everyone’s birthday to muscles, from big eyes to smelly nail polish, from fingers to pillows. Maddie covers the gamut of her life from the mundane to the meaningful. She takes her journal to sleepovers so she won’t miss a day of writing. And, if for some reason a day slips by, she doubles up the next. It’s become as much of a habit as brushing her teeth.

This attitude of thankfulness developing inside her, this ritual of writing down her thanks, causes her to dwell on the goodness of the Creator. Each day she searches her mind for those things, those people, those events for which she can give gratitude to the Giver. This daily writing awakens her mind to all the good gifts God has given her and even some she finds distasteful, like school and homework. Still, she offers thanks. She leads by example, and for that I am grateful!

"Give thanks for the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever." (Psalm 106:1)

What’s the Word?

The mantra chanted repeatedly in circles around this time of year is familiar to most of us. “Did you make any New Year’s Resolutions?” spills out of mouths like the greeting, “Merry Christmas.” People’s responses range from scorn because of past failures to excitement for what might be achieved.  I’ve failed miserably when making goals. One year I planned to eliminate sweets from my diet. In the midst of eating a piece of cake, I realized I forgot about my goal. The rest was history including that resolution. Since then, I’ve learned tips about making goals more specific and measurable. Perhaps I would’ve succeeded if my resolve were to cut sweets to three times a week instead of never eating them again. I grasped the real lesson:

never again make a resolution involving chocolate.

I enjoy creating goals for the New Year, focusing my energy with God’s help in various areas, such as family, spiritual, physical, ministry and leadership. In recent years, however, I’ve also prayed about a “word” that will characterize my year. Around November, I ponder what word God might speak to me. Many times, this word will crop up as I’m reading my Bible or another book. I may sense that He’s teaching me a trait through a family issue. I always hope it’s not patience because I really don’t want to take those field trip experiences.

A journal writer sporadically since a teen, I love looking back at what I’ve written. In my diary days, I wrote inspiring notes about boys I liked and ugly words about my sister: “She thinks she’s pretty, but she’s not.” It’s good for a chuckle but not much else. As an adult, I’ve vented and vomited words on the page. I’ve prayed and praised the God to whom I owe everything. And, I’ve remembered and recounted the events of each year. So, as I roll back the time to 2010 when my word was “flourish,” I read that it was filled with tough times, and I wrote, “I’m not sure that (flourish) really occurred in my estimation.” It felt much more like failure to me.

Last year, my word was “God’s Goodness.” Okay, that’s two words, but who’s counting?  The year began with “my brain is encased in a thick fog this morning after a migraine that felt like it was going to blow its innards like Mt. St. Helens. My left ear throbs as if someone were poking me with sharp needles.” Off to a great start so far. I began to wonder about my chosen “words” when I spent the first two week s of January 2011 in bed several days with various sicknesses…migraines, dizziness, ear pain and vomiting.  Intersperse about a million snow days when the kids were hanging around, and that’s a little too much goodness for me!

God’s Goodness

Yet, what God taught me with those two words over the course of the year was that His goodness had nothing to do with my circumstances.  In one journal entry, I wrote, “The year can only go up from here, right?! Right?! My words, “God’s goodness,” for 2011 sound almost humorous. Still I know that just because my circumstances have been bleak doesn’t mean He isn’t good. It’s all in the perspective, right?” Like a roller coaster, the year was up then down, yet I experienced His goodness in all of it. Our circumstances may not be outwardly good, but God can use them for our eternal good. What I found is that God’s goodness permeated each event in my life last year. It’s a lesson I will not forget.

So, what does this year hold? What word am I hanging on to? Drum roll, please….This year, I believe it’s “grace.” Grace for me when I blow it, and grace for me to offer others. Beyond that, I’m waiting to see how the year unfolds and what God will show me!  Now, it’s your turn.

What “word” will God give you?

The Gift of Gratitude

“Can you see the holiness in those things you take for granted—a paved road or a washing machine? If you concentrate on finding what is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul.” Rabbi Harold Kushner

Tangible things I so easily take for granted:

1.       Love of husband

2.       Time with my three precious children

3.       Loving parents who are still married (50 years)

4.       Warm home

5.       “Clean” water

6.       Three cars

7.       Shelves of books to read

8.       Electricity

9.       Three meals a day

10.   Close friendships

Far more importantly are those items that God has blessed me with which have affected my life for eternity. Ephesians lists many of these:

 “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will—to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding. And he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment—to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ.

In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory. And you also were included in Christ when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation. Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession—to the praise of his glory.” (Ephesians 1:3-14)

Spiritual blessings:

1.       Adoption

2.       Forgiveness

3.       Lavish grace

4.       Holy

5.       Blameless

6.       Wisdom

7.       Understanding

8.       Mystery of His will

9.       Chosen

10.   Hope in Christ

11.   Inheritance

12.   Word of truth (gospel)

13.   Holy Spirit

14.   God’s possession

Ann Voscamp, in her book 1000 Gifts, states “A life contemplating the blessings of Christ becomes a life acting the love of Christ.” When I meditate on all the God has done for me through his son, Jesus, how can I not be grateful? Shouldn’t that attitude of gratitude spill out everywhere I go—in the car, at the grocery store, in my conversation, in my family?

But, what about the hard things? How can we see God’s blessings in the heart-breaking events of our lives? In divorce and betrayal? In cancer? In death? In physical suffering? How do we give God thanks in the midst of trials and troubles?

1 Thessalonians 5:18 says, “Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” No matter what I am facing, I can give thanks right smack dab “in” the middle of it. I thank Him for His faithfulness to walk me through the pain. I thank Him for comforting me in my sorrow. I thank Him for leading me through the darkness. I thank Him for healing my broken heart. I focus and fix my eyes on the One who endured the pain of nails piercing His body for me and suffered shame on my behalf. I realize He too has experienced betrayal, physical suffering and death. In this imperfect life, how can I accept pleasure and not expect pain; love and not betrayal; life and not death? And yet, God promises to be with me, present beside me, walking through the valley of the shadow of death.

Jesus broke the bread and gave thanks right before he was nailed to a cross for my sin. How can I be ungrateful at any point in my life?

“Father, help me to see everything in my life through the lens of gratitude. I want to remember that you have blessed me with every spiritual blessing in Christ so that I can be the love of Christ to those around me. When trials come, allow me to see your faithfulness. You promise to never leave me no matter what I am going through. When life is sweet, recall to my mind the good gifts you have given me that I so easily take for granted.  May a heart of gratitude spill out of me to everyone I meet.”

“The unthankful heart…discovers no mercies; but let the thankful heart sweep through the day and, as the magnet finds the iron, so it will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings!” – Henry Ward Beecher

How Blonde Are You?

I’m beginning to believe that everyone may have a tiny bit of blonde underneath their red, black or brunette strands. Family and friends teased me for years about my blondeness even when my hair color resembled that of dirty dishwater. When I was a teen, boys stood on either side of my head to talk claiming the wind blew right through my ears. The number of jokes I didn’t understand were as numerous as the sand on the beach. And sometimes, I clearly don’t think before I speak. A few days ago, I asked my 17-year old about the 30-hour famine youth event she would be attending.

“So, will you be fasting for 24 hours?” I asked.

Smirking, she said, “Mom, it’s a 30-hour famine!

I’m grateful for the opportunity to give my family and friends stress relief at my expense. Even today, friends laugh when I tilt my head slightly to the left saying, “Huh?!” Yes, I have this disease, but it’s not simply because I shell out big bucks to be blond.

Many claim this dumb blonde myth circled the globe since ancient times, but it culminated with Marilyn Monroe who paid to dye her brunette locks to blonde when she played in the movie, “Gentleman Prefer Blondes.” Hair color commercials seized the opportunity to promote the idea that blondes have more fun.  Brunettes were seen as serious and intelligent, while blondes were depicted as fun-loving and superficial. The movie industry continues to sell this dumb blonde myth in movies such as “Legally Blonde 1 and 2.” A story about a dumb brunette would bomb at the box office.

While I have endured abuses all my life because of my mental incapacity to “get things” (it must be the bleach seeping into my scalp), I have managed to overcome these trials by taking advantage of the opportunities to laugh at others’ blonde mishaps. Even though my hubby is a natural brunette with about three gray hairs sprinkled in, I howled when he unwittingly taped the movie “Braveheart” in Spanish. A few months before that, he taped a “must see” movie for all of us to watch because of its apparent good ratings. In his confusion over the title, he recorded the wrong movie. As we viewed this movie with our two daughters, our jaws dropped when a man’s pants dropped. We stopped the show and ribbed Tony for scarring us for life! “The Piano” and “The Pianist,” are apparently two very different movies.  

It’s nice to know that no matter the hair color, everyone has their blonde moments.

A Horrible Habit

Recently, my husband and I were enjoying lunch at Chili’s with our daughter Maddie. I was wearing my “Gripes Be Gone” bracelet which I created in my “Married to Me” study. These highly sophisticated pieces of elastic string containing three beads symbolize my husband and me with God in the center. Each time I complained, whined or griped, I snapped the bracelet against my wrist, a stinging reminder of my lack of self-control. Our waitress’ chatter was a little over the top. After making a cutting remark to Tony about it, I looked down at my bracelet and snapped it.

Tony asked, “What’s that?” Reluctantly, I explained my lovely new jewelry piece. He laughed knowing the impossibility of this device to take captive my complaints. He asked to borrow my bracelet. Wrapping it around 3 fingers, he stated, “This booth has a really bad odor,” and snapped it. I laughed. Whether Tony was attempting to identify with my dilemma or poke fun, the reality is that a bracelet isn’t capable of delivering me from caustic complaining.

Many of us have developed bad habits that have been deemed acceptable among Christian women. We gripe about our husbands, our children, our jobs and our busyness. We complain about slow service, critique sermons and criticize a person’s clothes or imperfect parenting. Philippians 2:14-15 states, “Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure…” 

That little word, “everything,” is tripping me up, how about you?! God wants me to use my words to bless, to encourage, to lift up others. James 3:10-11 says, “Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My (sisters), this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring?” If we are to be a blessing to others in our homes and our community, we must use our words wisely. We have a choice: we can shut our mouths when we don’t have anything good to say or snap bracelets leaving marks on our wrists and in other’s hearts. Let’s be different than the culture in which we live!