A Lasting Legacy

“Unless the LORD builds the house, its builders labor in vain.” Psalm 127:1

The young couple met in high school and began a cycle of dating and break ups.  I’ve lost track how many.  He was a grade ahead than she and graduated from Breo-Olinda High School in 1959.  They finally stopped breaking up and tied the knot March 24, 1961.  Their old high school has since been torn down and rebuilt elsewhere in the town of Brea paving the way for city expansion on that hallowed ground where they first met. And, while the old B-O gymnasium where she watched him play basketball is history, their marriage of 50 years is still standing.

It’s a miracle, really. I’m sure they’d both admit it. Dad’s parents died when he was a young boy, leaving him an orphan bouncing between relatives. Aside from his older brother by 10 years, he had no significant father figure in his life to show him how to be a man, a strong family leader. Mom’s family was dysfunctional. With an alcoholic father and a mom who managed to hold the family together, she also didn’t have a great picture of family life. And, while both families had respect for God, they didn’t claim to live for Him. So, with a shaky foundation, they began their life together…young and in love.

They could’ve been a divorce statistic, but they’re not. A few years and a couple of kids into their married life, mom was introduced to Jesus and decided He was worth following. Dad saw Billy Graham on television one night and made the same decision. They began a legacy like Ruth did turning her back on her Moab roots and following Naomi’s God. Dad and mom moved out of California to the foreign land of Oregon to raise their family. They never looked back, and it’s made all the difference in their marriage, their kids and their grandchildren.

I’m not saying they didn’t struggle. They fussed and fought, bickered and battled. Months and sometimes years of striving ensued. I would hear their fighting from my downstairs bedroom and fear divorce. I know I didn’t understand all that was occurring. Perhaps financial strain and my dad’s traveling a lot at the time contributed to the tension. Other times stand out in my memory as desperate attacks from the enemy to destroy my parent’s marriage.  In spite of all the torment during those horrible times, my parent’s stuck together like glue. They arose from that period of time like David after killing Goliath.  Through those challenging times, their marriage became unshakeable, impenetrable, indestructible.

Lest you form a picture in your mind of all war and no peace, that is not the case. I simply do not desire to deceive you with 50 years of wedded bliss. Foremost in my growing up years, however, are portraits of my parent’s love and affection for each other. They hugged and kissed each other everyday, much to my chagrin. “Oooh, gross,” the three of us would say. Those three little words, ‘I love you,’ were shared between them each day. They were nuts about each other and made sure we knew it. Their relationship was always first. Commitment to staying married through the ebbs and flows of love became their goal. With their unstable family history, they placed preeminence on building a Godly foundation in their marriage. No examples from the past to follow, they began a legacy of Christian values for their family. Like the pioneers who traversed the west conquering winter elements, gigantic mountains and fierce enemies, they persevered paving the way for those of us who follow them.

How grateful I am for this shining example in my life. In a world that dumps marriage as easily as dinner leftovers, my parent’s marriage stands as a beacon of hope for those who persist despite the odds. I, too, want to be counted in that esteemed group who love, cherish and honor their spouse through thick and thin, babies and teens, gray and bald. You go, mom and dad, we’re right behind you, following in your footsteps!

“May your fountain be blessed, and may you rejoice in the wife of your youth.” Proverbs 5:18

Feed Your Crave

Driving down the highway last week, I saw a White Castle billboard blaring “Feed Your Crave.” 

I can proudly claim that I’ve never eaten at White Castle. Never even heard of it before 10 years ago when I first moved to the Midwest from the West Coast. Frankly, the burgers pictured don’t look appetizing. I’d sooner eat a taco consisting of low grade meat from Taco Bell than consume a White Castle slider. Just seems like something might slide up the way it went down.

Still, what kind of advertising suggests I heed my carnal cravings? Sounds like these guys are giving me permission to eat the entire bag of dark chocolate Cadbury mini eggs, right? I mean, a serving size of 12 small eggs is simply not enough. I want more! And, I’d really like more than one bowl of Turkey Hill chocolate pretzel ice cream at night, too. My husband can indulge in the entire bag of Dorito spicy sweet chili chips now that he has White Castle’s consent. Who cares if these foods are loaded with unhealthy ingredients. I need to feed my crave, right?! It would be different if I craved foods such as legumes or fruit. Instead, I’ve been cursed with the chocolate crave.  In fact, most of us probably crave foods that are unhealthy, energy depleting or fat producing. 

Forget about food, what about my other cravings? My longings to be accepted, liked, loved? Should I feed those at any expense? Should I do whatever it takes to keep a friend, climb the corporate ladder or social status? Does my desire to be liked cause me to be a chameleon, adapting to whatever setting in which I find myself? Worse yet, do I compromise my faith as I stuff myself with unhealthy desires? Do I realize that all of my cravings only bring emptiness, dissatisfaction and a guilty conscience?

In the Old Testament the Israelites grumbled and complained until they received what they thought they wanted only to decide they wanted something different. Psalm 78:29-31 says, “They ate till they were gorged— he had given them what they craved. But before they turned from what they craved, even while the food was still in their mouths, God’s anger rose against them; he put to death the sturdiest among them, cutting down the young men of Israel.  Earlier in Psalm 78, the writer says that they put God to the test by demanding their cravings. The Hebrews pined for tangible, immediate gratification rather than relying and trusting in God for the ultimate satisfaction of their longings. How like us to settle for White Castle when we could dine on the gourmet food God provides. 

None of us should buy into White Castle’s advice. Our cravings lead us down paths replete with selfishness, self-absorption and sin. This is exactly what happened to the Israelites. They whined and pleaded like a 3 year old begs for candy at the grocery store check-out counter. Then, when God gave them what they determined would satisfy them, they grumbled for something else. They just couldn’t seem to grasp that they needed more of God, not more of what He could do for them. We do the same thing, don’t we? We crave the next shopping purchase, the next exciting event, the next lunch with a friend, the next whatever thinking “it” will complete us, but it won’t.  We’ll be left with wanting more, and more, and more.

1 Peter 2:1-3 says, “Therefore, rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind.  Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good.” Newborns don’t seem to need anything but their mother’s milk, do they? A mother would be crazy to feed her baby a carrot or a candy bar. The only nutrition they need comes in a breast or bottle. Mothers give their babies the best food for healthy growth, and babies don’t cry out for something other than what mommy provides.  God assures us that we mature spiritually in the same way that babies mature physically. Craving fulfillment through outside sources may bring momentary happiness like my 10 year old enjoying her nightly ice cream. Once she has finished her tasty treat, however, she sneaks a bit of candy because it wasn’t quite enough. When we feast on Him, we taste that He is good and that He is all we need.

We can feed our crave…if we crave Him!

Sometimes Silence is a Good Thing

“When words are many, sin is not absent,

But he who holds his tongue is wise.” Proverbs 10:19

Excuse me if I step on some toes, mine included…but, can we just stop blabbing and gabbing to each other ABOUT each other? As women, we have a particular affinity for taking information and passing it along as carelessly as trash littered along the highway. I have my own experiences getting caught in the web of gossip, filled with shame and remorse at the horrifying things I’ve said whether guised as a prayer request or not. The past few years, I’ve been a leader of a women’s Bible study in which we advocate encouraging and building each other up, speaking strongly against careless words said about anyone.

Recently, I discovered that someone spread vicious words to another about a young friend. I was sickened, disappointed, heartbroken. My friend, hurt and distraught, is fragile, as we all are. Lies and rumors swirl around her through media sources and the old-fashioned telephone game, and she is wounded like she’s just been through a sword fight. She thought Christian women were different. Well, we are supposed to be…aren’t we? Everything I read in the Bible tells me that I am held to a higher standard. Who can I trust if I can't trust a fellow believer?

If I have no problem slaying and fileting my own, what does that say to the community of unbelievers? What does God think about me marring and mutilating His daughter, His creation?  Is there no safe place for me to share my feelings? Should I constantly worry about whether what I say is going to be spewed to another in a different venue?

Is there any hope for us in this potentially toxic area? Even James says, “But no man can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.” (James 3:8) Goodness knows, I’ve bitten my tongue dozens of times, yet I’ve also let loose venom and hurt others more often than I care to confess. Haven’t we all felt that nudge not to share some interesting nougat we’ve just discovered? Haven’t we all ignored it? In the situation with my friend, the person who chose to sink ships with her lips didn’t heed the little voice. She jumped right in the muck and mire with both feet as I’ve done plenty of times.

How can we stop this poison? We certainly can’t do it on our own, without God, so let’s start with Him! John 15:5 says, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me, and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” If we are not stuck to Jesus, fixed to the Rock, we can’t do this.  We can’t do anything, including zipping our lips, without Him. Remaining in Him means being in His word. It’s extremely difficult to reflect His image if we don’t spend time knowing who He is and what we should be putting into practice. 

In addition, we need to pay attention to the gut feelings that say, “Don’t share that nice, juicy tidbit.” Proverbs 13:3 says, “(She) who guards (her) lips guards (her) life, but (she) who speaks rashly will come to ruin.” My mother, a church office assistant for many years, set the bar high in this area. She had plenty of opportunity to share the inside scoop, but she never did. She said that if information ever escaped, she never desired it to be from her. If you keep your mouth closed, your heart won’t condemn you and neither can others.

We also must be aware that our witness is being reflected to unbelievers as well as fellow believers. People are always watching us—our conversation, our attitude and our behavior.  Sadly, we don’t always look all that different from those who don’t know Christ.  We should be asking ourselves if others are attracted to Jesus by what they see in us. If the answer is no, our mouths need a transformation.

Have you ever shared your heart with another person only to hear that she had spread it far and wide? Not only are we hurt, embarrassed, angry, but we also realized that the woman we had confided in was untrustworthy. We learn to distance ourselves from someone like that. Do we want to be women whom others can trust? If we constantly break confidences, other women will not feel comfortable revealing their struggles to us. Once again, Proverbs speaks to this. “A gossip betrays a confidence, but a trustworthy (woman) keeps a secret.” (11:13)

The bottom line is we need to use our words to encourage one another not pass judgment, criticize or tear down. “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” (Ephesians 4:29) Let’s be conscious of the words we speak.

If what we have to share is not beneficial, we must choose to keep our lips sealed. 

God's Wings

"How priceless is your unfailing love!

Both high and low among men find refuge

in the shadow of your wings."  (Psalm 36:7, NIV)

Recently, I've contemplated this idea of finding refuge in God's wings.  The Bible is replete with imagery involving eagles' wings, especially in Psalms.  Yet, my attention was drawn to this through a verse in Ruth.  Boaz tells Ruth, "May the Lord repay you for what you have done. May you be richly rewarded by the LORD, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge." (Ruth 2:12, NIV) Ruth, a Moabitess, has left her homeland and forsaken her gods to pledge allegience to Naomi and her God.  She has abandoned any family in Moab and adopted new family in Bethlehem.  She is now seeking shelter in God's arms. 

I thought about this when I helped dress my sleepy 10-year-old earlier this week.  Every once in awhile, her eyes won't open in the morning, so I pick up one body part at a time and dress her.  Then, I hoist her arms around my neck while she wraps her legs around my body, and I carry her small frame into the kitchen where she eats her Reese's Puffs breakfast of champions. The eagle's wings image popped into my brain.  Just as she found refuge in my arms, so I nestle in my Father's arms. She didn't want to face the day and needed me to give her some extra love. Perhaps my willingness to give her additional affection, allowing her to curl up in my arms gave her the boost she needed.

Mornings don't always materialize in this manner.  Typically, I begin by sweetly and gently cajoling my daughter out of bed, sometimes with a beautiful morning song.  When that doesn't move her, I resort to a firm, "Time to get up now.  Let's go." After that, the threats begin with the ugly mom voice.  "If you don't get moving, you'll lose dessert for 5 years and go to bed early until you're 16."  However, this morning was different.  And, I thought about God's arms as I wrapped my arms wholly around this little trusting person.  Just like what I do with God, only He doesn't ever bark at me when I don't get up quickly enough. 

Unfortunately, the day will arrive when my daughter will grow too large for me to wrap her up completely in my arms.  But, God's arms are never too small. The wingspan of eagles' wings is 7 feet, almost 1 1/2 times my 5'4" body. I don't know what size Ruth was, but I do know that she found refuge in the shadow of God's wings. She left her country, her dead idols and a bleak future in Moab.  While grieving the loss of her husband, she travelled to a new country with her mother-in-law of all people for the prospect of an uncertain future with a God she barely knew.  She gave God her grief, and He gave her hope.  

In the 35 years that I've been a Christ-follower, I've lost track of how many occasions I've buried myself in God's arms.  God has sheltered me, held me, loved me through my teens, in the midst of marriage hardships, through financial challenges, in the middle of raising children.  He is the One in whom I've taken refuge over and over again.  Even more than I love to cuddle with, protect and shield my little girl when she can barely open her eyes to face the day, He desires to shelter me from the storms this life brings. He hopes that I'll seek refuge in Him rather than a friend, food or finances.  Maybe He even longs for me to be more like Ruth, the foreigner, the former idol-worshiper.    

Father, help me to find my shelter in you, just like Ruth did.  She didn't cling to her past, but looked forward to a hopeful future.  She took a risk and trusted You. She moved forward and didn't let fear hold her back.  No matter what happens in my future, I pray that I would continue to seek refuge in You who cover me with Your wings.

A Drama Queen is Born

Sparkly, Bubbly, Bouncy

My youngest child has epitomized these adjectives since she burst onto the scene 10 years ago February 7.  She came into this world dramatically, and she's been a drama queen ever since.  I checked into the hospital expecting the pitocin-induced labor that I experienced with the older two, but Maddie had different ideas.  Partway through the process, the doctors and nurses wheeled me into the operating room for an emergency C-section due to Placenta Abrupto.  Perhaps Maddie didn't think a conehead would bode well for princess status and caused a little commotion just to make sure that crown would look fabulous on a perfectly shaped head.  In any case, she made her entrance known to everyone like Hollywood divas do walking the red carpet on Oscar night.  I didn't realize at the time, that she is a walking, dancing, skipping miracle.  A few years ago, I learned how life-threatening my condition was and that this impetuous angel might not have survived.  To the staff's credit, they were remarkably calm and didn't waste any time delivering Maddie.  The doctor sedated me, cut me open and sewed me up more quickly than it takes to sing the National Anthem.  Maddie's grand entrance set the stage for her future dramatic performances.

In the past 10 years, she has played the lead actress in grocery stores, friends' homes and at Disneyworld throwing tantrums.  On one particular occasion, she should've received an Oscar for Best Fit of all time.  Let me just insert here that sometimes parents are just plain stupid when they stay at Disney until midnight with a two year old.  Nope, not smart at all.  Her dad wrapped his arms around her little body to contain her.  Instead, she began to kick fellow tram travelers while screaming, "Daddy, you're hurting me.  Stop hurting me!"  The only people who were hurt were the poor innocents she was kicking due to her loss of self-control.  Still, her choice of words caused me to wonder if Child Protective Services might pay us a visit.  When the tram stopped, people jumped off faster than they would run out of a burning building.

It goes without saying that she has played starring roles as a Drama Queen.  She's never been content to play the supporting actress.  She's the social butterfly, party organizer and chatterbug.  When relaying an incident with friends, Maddie says, "They're so full of drah-mah!"  When a friend's seat is moved away from her, Maddie expains, "Oh, they were talking too much."  When I ask why she takes her tests in the hallway instead of the class, she states, "People distract me with their talking."  Every report card, every conference with the teacher, I expect to read and hear the same thing.  Maddie talks too much and needs to focus on her work better, but she's a pleasure to have in class.  Of course, she is.  Maddie's a party waiting to happen.  It's the work she doesn't like to do. "Fun" is Maddie's modus operandi. 

Energizer Bunny is what I've always called that be-bopping little girl.  From the moment she awakes to the moment we beg, plead and force her to go to bed, she is bouncing, chattering flipping.  She tumbles four hours at gymnastics and still has more battery life for eating dinner, doing homework and negotiating to stay up late like the teenagers. "It's not fair," she cries about her 9 o'clock bedtime. She always has one more story to relay to us and one more stuffed animal to find.  By this time, my energy is sapped and hers is recharged.  "Get in bed, so we can pray," I snap.  Makes for a lovely ending to the day, don't you think?

As strong-willed as that little munchkin is, she is equally big-hearted, compassionate and loving.  Maddie is quick to remember those in our family who need prayer.  Thoughtful, she asks provoking questions and converses with others as an adult would.  Not too long ago, Maddie and I were talking to a former principal of her older siblings.  He told her to tell them "hi" from him.  She said, "I don't think I'll remember since they won't be back until next week."  He looked amazed. "Wow, you are something, aren't you?"  Yep, no matter the age, Maddie can communicate with them without intimidation.  On another occasion, we were discussing what the word "innocent" meant.  I explained what it meant and she said, "No offense, Mom, but you've made mistakes."  I wanted to say, "No, duh," but I figured that would be a little rude.  That kid not only says the darnedest things that make me howl, but she also asks all manner of questions spurred by her desire to learn.

I am grateful for this little miracle who just entered the world of double digits.  In spite of the stop-growing-drops her father continues to sprinkle on her, she continues to mature physically, emotionally and spiritually.  She's ecstatic those drops aren't working.  Now she's setting her sights on 11. I, however, am hoping time will slow down just a little bit, so the eight years I have left with that joy-filled, spunky girl will seem like an eternity. At least, that's my wish most days. 

Blind

          Colorful images danced across the big screen.  They looked like formless blogs meshing together like amoebas under a microscope slide.  I gazed about the store from my vantage point pretending that I could see perfectly.  A family of three walked around the corner, glancing my direction. I smiled at their blurry faces not knowing if they were returning my grin. I sought to appear normal despite my inability to see beyond two inches in front of my face.  I wondered what it might feel like to remain this blind, to be incapable of seeing clear, definite faces and objects--ever. Without corrective lenses, my world would appear exactly like this permanently. My physically blind state led me to ponder spiritual blindness.

            Jesus condemns the blindness of the Pharisees.  In Matthew 23, he calls them blind guides, blind fools, blind men and blind Pharisees.  These men are consumed with washing cups and dishes to the neglect of their greedy and self-indulgent hearts. They seem completely oblivious to their blinded hearts unlike my contactless eyes are to my foggy surroundings. I realize I can’t see; it’s obvious the objects around me are indiscriminate and unfocused.  Perhaps this is why I find myself so critical of the Pharisees.  I can see they are completely focused on laws and regulations, dos and don’t’s.  Why can’t they? 

            I’m proud of my clear vision.  Does that make me as blind as they are?

Writing Day

I am a planner, a goal maker, a rule follower. So far this year, I’ve been frustrated because life has not followed my dictates.  Ok, so maybe I need to lighten up a tad. I created pages of specific goals for a variety of areas of my life.  Prioritizing writing time is a main focus.

My calendar is filled with color-coded schedules for each member of my family.  Without this I would be as lost as a Spanish-speaking traveler in China. I began the year with my pink pen highlighting the days I would devote to writing. Not only would this be a prominent message to my family that I would not be accessible to them during this time, but it would also be a reminder to me not to schedule anything else on these days. 

With the holidays over, I was anxious to follow my plan.  A week into the New Year, I woke up sick and spent the entire day in bed.  Not part of my plan to become sick.  Scratch out my writing day.  Five days later, sickness attacks me again.  Really? I don’t believe I was sick all the previous year, and I’ve been hit twice already?  My plan is not coming to fruition. My goals are glaring at me, wondering why I haven’t done anything. My hubby tries to remind me that goals are not supposed to be like Nazi’s, ruling your life.  He doesn’t know my goals!

Week two arrives and so does wonderful winter snow cancelling school for two days. That’s just terrific, I complain to the air. Writing day cancelled again. I confess I can’t moan about sleeping late for that’s as pleasant as sipping my Starbuck’s Marble Mocha Macchiato. But, entertaining a 9 year-old and a teenager?  My plans didn’t include that.

I’m prepared for week three…two days off school for a holiday and a teacher in-service day. It sure seems like we could’ve used those days to make up the two snow days from the previous, but no one asked me for my expert opinion. I’m not too upset, however, because I anticipate my writing day coming barring another snow storm or sickness.

Finally, it happened! Yesterday, my computer and I spent 5 hours of quality time together at Barnes and Noble simply writing. My rule-following, goal setting, perfectionistic self can cross “writing day” off my list. No interruptions, no phone calls (because I accidentally left it at home), no laundry and no lunch even (unless you count my orange cranberry scone). I can’t wait until the next writing day!

And, today? Well, it’s another snow day…