7 Quick Takes (Volume 177)

1) Ladies Man and Drama Queen were preparing food for a party. Ladies Man cut up some fruit and started to make some dip, a task I found pretty easy, when he erupted.

Ladies Man: Mom, how do you do this all the time? You do this every day! You are like a saint!

Appreciation. It's a beautiful thing.

2) Miss Innocent One has this bad habit of twisting her neck until it pops, and we're talking LOUD, producing cringes from anyone in her vicinity.

Me: You really should stop popping your neck like that. It can't be good for you.

Miss Innocent One: What's wrong with it? I always pop my knuckles.

Me: You shouldn't do that either. You'll get old lady hands like mine.

Miss Innocent One: Is that why you have big knuckles?

Me: Probably.

Miss Innocent One (trotting out of the room, feeling sufficiently educated): Okay, then. Thanks for the life lesson.

Oh brother. Can you see the teen coming out in her? The next morning I was tired and stiff.

Me: My neck hurts today.

Miss Innocent One: Don't pop it, Mom. That's against the life lesson.

Sassy and a smart aleck? This girl is honing some adolescent skills, people.

3) We had a little trouble with our phone line over the weekend and Monday morning a repairman was at the house as I came back from the gym. I chatted with him as I came in the door and quickly found my husband who I hadn't seen yet that day. I assumed the repairman was busy when I gave Kevin a hug and kiss, but apparently not. Before the embrace was over we heard, "She didn't greet me like that."

4) Here's another picture for the odd injuries of Ladies Man file.

He got a little cocky at youth group and tried stuffing the basketball, but whacked his arm on the rim instead. That's gotta be one of his biggest bruises yet.

And come to think of it, most of his injuries come from youth group. He's an enthusiastic guy, but the youth pastor may want to think twice about making him the poster child for youth group, unless there are other guys out there like Ladies Man who find scars and huge bruises "AWESOME!"

The church building has a strange effect on this kid. One of my common phrases on Sunday mornings for him is, "You shouldn't get sweaty in church." At least the injuries are not deterring him from going. It's never a fight to get him there. And so far he's been able to walk away on his own after injuries, so I guess we're all good. If the need would arise, we do have a stretcher amongst the props back in the choir room, so he's covered.

So go ahead, Ladies Man. Keep going to church and youth group. Keep putting yourself at risk for bodily harm. We got your back.

5) I had a few, shall we say, not so pleasant days this week and felt bad about what my husband had to put up with.

Me (to Kevin): Sorry I've been so crabby this week.

Kevin: You haven't been THAT crabby.

I think that's a nice way of saying, "You were stinkin' crabby, but I still love you." Thank the Lord for tolerant husbands.

6) I think we found an albino carrot! What do you think?

Weird, huh? And no, nobody dared eat it.

7) Kevin and I may have the house to ourselves tonight. Any suggestions?

With that I'm out, folks. Have a great weekend and catch more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.

Well Done

The choir, 125 voices strong, swelled behind me. I sat in the orchestra, adding my little part to a divine moment. The back of my neck tingled, my stomach fluttered, and my eyes misted at such glory. At the helm stood my husband, conducting the piece he arranged. Every stitch of music used by over 150 performers came through his hands. Every note, every dynamic marking, every rest were placed by him. And when all his work came together with such beauty, I was overwhelmed.

I know how many hours he spends on his music with no guarantee he'll be compensated for the time. I watch him pore over scores on his laptop every evening. I've been alongside him for decades, witnessing his devotion to honing his skills. I know the jabs he takes for calling himself what he is--a composer. I know how often he's felt misunderstood and devalued.

So in that moment, hearing his music come to glorious life, I could barely contain myself. My husband, doing what he was meant to do, stood tall and strong and smiled widely, reveling in the satisfaction of hearing his work performed so well. Because he ignored popular opinion about what constitutes manliness and followed God's call on his life, he created this grandeur. He let God use him to produce the fodder for my goose bumps.

And this amazingly humble, faithful, creator of beauty is MY husband.

Tears well. Gratitude soars.

It is my honor to be this man's wife, to see him live out true manhood by consistently, quietly using and refining the gifts God's given him. With no words at all he teaches me to press on in what God asks, regardless of who understands.

How I love and admire you, my dear husband. I thank God every single day for you. Your example of perseverance and faithfulness inspires me. Our association makes me better. I am blessed because of you.

And indebted to God for His very good gift.


To read more Thankful Thursday posts, visit Laurie at Women Taking a Stand.

Battleground

I rarely do it, because my husband says my mental and emotional health is much better when I don't. But something compelled me that day, something dark and evil and perfectly rotten. I knew it was a bad idea as I did it, but I couldn't stop myself.

I stepped on my scale.

I stepped on my scale in the middle of the afternoon, fully dressed. Yeah, so stupid. Everyone knows the best way to weigh yourself is naked, first thing in the morning, before an ounce of food or drink has passed your lips. But idiotic me didn't have the self-control to wait. I stepped right up there, hoping for the best, but cringing just in case.

And wouldn't you know it, I did NOT like where the needle stopped.

Immediately my heart sank, my mind condemned. Any good feeling I had about myself for the last month evaporated. In the preceding week a stranger at a restaurant told Drama Queen she was lucky to have such a shapely mother, a woman told her coworker I had great legs (although I wonder if she is due for an eye exam), and a guy at the gym asked me what I'd been doing because I looked like I lost a lot of weight. But all these good, encouraging words were nullified the second I saw that number on my scale.

Grrrr.

I know I'm not alone. You've done it too. Every woman knows the familiar angst of reaching and/or maintaining that magic number. Every. Single. One. That includes the chick you're sure would be taken into the next county if a strong wind came up, the babe who looks spectacular in sweats, and the grandma who's more fit than you. Every girl asks, "Do I look fat in these jeans?" We dismiss flattering, sincere remarks because of that stinking number on our scale. Why do we do this to ourselves? Where did we get the idea that our worth is based on our weight?

Why do women with wit and beauty, brains and spiritual insight, women with gorgeous smiles and impressive accomplishments, competent, reliable, dependable women, greatly loved by God and others, feel defeat and shame because of an arbitrary number on their bathroom scale? Why do we give it so much power, significance? Why does it sap our confidence and tell us we're less than we should be?

Does Satan hold a lottery in hell where the winners get to live in someone's bathroom scale, tormenting the owner for a lifetime? Now that's an easy demon gig!

Why can't we see past the illuminated number between our feet? How do we fight this tendency to give our scales this much power? How do we deny this preoccupation? How do we remember what is true and live like we believe it?

Do we start by throwing away our scales, by letting God, not an inanimate object, decide what our perfect body should be? Can we concentrate on being healthy and strong instead of being a certain weight?

I wish I could solve the puzzle and have a checklist to freedom from the tyranny of the bathroom scale. It grieves me to see so many amazing women drug down and immobilized by something so dumb. Satan's playing a good trick on us, girls.

We've got to resist the temptation. We've got to say, "I may not like the number on the scale, but it doesn't define who I am." We need to look in our mirrors and proclaim, "I am a healthy, blessed woman, dearly loved by God." We need to give Satan our heel and shove that stupid scale where the sun don't shine.

The king is enthralled by your beauty; honor him, for he is your lord.

Psalm 45:11

Let's honor God with our bodies, not our scales.

How will you fight this tendency to give your scale too much power?



Photo Credit: -Paul H-

Romance: It's the Little Things

When the gentle breezes of summer evenings blow, I'm captured by their lilt and intoxicating aroma. I long for moonlit walks ending in passionate kisses and secluded outdoor rendezvous. Something about the evening breezes of summer put me in a romantic mood. But you know how often those summer breezes have translated into nights of passion? Few. Very, very few.

It's not like these moments never happen. In twenty-five years together we've collected a few special memories. Before having children, we once spent all night on the floor of our living room, the only light being the soft glow from our Christmas tree. It was so beautiful, it still makes me sigh. We've enjoyed slow dances, my nose nuzzling his neck, soaking in his glorious familiar scent, the music and the swaying and his tight hold making me nearly float. We've stood entwined on a balcony overlooking the ocean, the moon shimmering on the waves below. We've taken advantage of an empty house with music and candles and taking our sweet time. We made memories in the moonlight on our 25th anniversary.

But these moments aren't the norm. Hardly. If I long for them too much, I put unrealistic expectations on my husband and am left feeling disappointed. Is there a way to find romance in the every day? Is it possible for small fixes to hold us over for the spectacular moments that are few and far, far between?

I say yes. I say we just need to open our eyes to romance living in little things. It's him looking at you from across the living room and saying, "You wanna come sit by me?" It's getting cozy on the couch and hearing, "I like this." It's in heart-felt words like "I'm so proud of you" and "You are beautiful." It's the gentle way we stake our claim on the other in public, him slipping his arm around my waist, me running my hand up under his sleeve, actions no one else would have the right to do. It's sighs when we part for the day, the goodby kiss seeming inadequate. It's clearing the table and taking the kids to school when it's not your turn. It's honest words without fear. The beauty of romance is there if we open our eyes and risk uttering what's in our hearts.

I sat next to my husband in church yesterday and snuggled in under his arm. As I rested my hand on his leg, I noticed it's looking older, the veins more prominent, the skin looser, a few age spots appearing. But before I could lament over it, my husband, having no clue what I was thinking, not even looking at me or his lap, put his hand on top, tangling his fingers with mine. And it occurred to me that no matter how old my hand looks, his will always be grabbing it. He doesn't see the age or the wrinkles or the spots (or maybe doesn't care). He only wants my hand.

Even sitting in church can be romantic.

Perfect settings and candles and soft music and flowers are wonderful, but not necessary for romance. Having these kinds of expectations only sets us up for disappointment.

True romance requires a keen sense of appreciation for the little things.

How do you find romance in your every day?

Read more about romance at Chrysalis.

7 Quick Takes (Volume 176)

1) Miss Innocent One participated in a show choir contest last weekend and had a great time. Not only did her school perform, but all the schools joined together for one song and dance number she obviously had a blast with.

2) We also attended our first drum line competition where Drummer Boy's group performed. He told me a few weeks ago he totally rocked his costume and I must admit he was right. How can one look manly with genie pants, floaty sleeves, blue hair and bare feet? I don't know, but he did it. This picture doesn't do it justice. (I have no idea where Drama Queen was at this point. Chatting with her peeps?)

The guy's drumming was as impressive as his costume. The boy's got skills, I tell you! Some acting chops too, as he was almost scary with his facial expressions while doing it. He and his group are headed to Minneapolis this weekend to compete in a regional contest. Kick it, DOJO!

3) You know it's Spring Break when:

That's Drummer Boy sacked out on the couch. Apparently Ladies Man was having sympathy pains (he's NOT on Spring Break), or rather, just being his normal self after school, asleep wherever he lands. Does anyone find it odd they are laying the exact same way?

And how in the world does one sleep like this?

The crazy thing is he does this nearly every day. No wonder he looks forward to chiropractic visits!

4) With Drummer Boy AND Drama Queen home, Ladies Man was in rare form, meaning he kicked into "entertain-the-siblings" mode, adopting goofy accents, singing silly songs, being generally loud and hard to ignore. Drama Queen noticed it immediately.

Drama Queen: You need to change our names. Ladies Man should be Drama KING. He's way more dramatic than me or Dad.

Me (to Kevin): Don't you find it interesting that she lumped you in with her?

Drama Queen: It's true. Dad's way more whiny and dramatic. He's the worst of us all.

Kevin defended himself by saying nothing to prove the point he's NOT all that animated, but history had already done the damage. Case in point:

5) Here's one of the ludicrous things Ladies Man does to get a laugh out of his brother and sisters. Remember all our planking, lamping, owling and batmanning from earlier this fall? He calls this ostriching. Think sticking your head in the sand.


All the kids about wet themselves laughing so hard over this one:

Personally I don't get why it's so funny. Just looks stupid to me.

And now I sound like an old fogey. Boo.

6) Enquiring minds will want to know that there's been NO LET UP AT ALL in the P90X routine. Kevin and Ladies Man are hard at it. I joined them for a few sessions this week again and my body's complaining about it. I work out regularly and have done so since 1994, yet nearly every week some activity makes me sore.

And why haven't my consistent workouts produced a sculpted body like the people on those videos? Why isn't my soreness rewarded with a killer body or incredible endurance or unbelievable flexibility? What am I working so hard for? Eternally achy muscles and joints? Will I ever find fitness?!

7) As I type this, Drama Queen, Ladies Man and Miss Innocent One are singing at the top of their lungs DOWNSTAIRS and disrupting my concentration. I am super glad they have so much fun together, but why does it have to be so loud?

Uh oh. Old fogey alert again. Ugh. I stink.

I better quit right now before I date myself even more. Enjoy your weekend and catch more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.

Taking a Breather

I'm taking a little blogging break this week. Be back on Friday with another edition of Quick Takes.



Photo Credit: Mr.Mac2009

7 Quick Takes (Volume 175)

1) Miss Innocent One: Today at school, Mr. B said that people in Japan are a lot shorter than we are.

Ladies Man: Nuh uh.

Miss Innocent One: No, it's true. He said if he went to Japan he would be considered a giant and he's about Dad's height (6'2").

Ladies Man (who measured recently at 6'5 1/2"): What would it be like if I went there?

Kevin: Our whole family would be freaks in Japan.

In my head I heard Drama Queen's words, but didn't say them. Kevin must have too.

Kevin: Wait, we're already freaks here.

Drama Queen, aren't you so proud? We hear you even when you're not present?

2) I laughed my head off at my husband last weekend. We were waiting in his office for a funeral to start and he asked me to proofread something. I sat at his desk and started reading when I looked up to see him straightening his tie while looking into his iPad, using it as a mirror!

Me (breaking into hysterics): Oh my gosh. I don't believe it!

Kevin: What? What's so funny?

Me: You're using your iPad as a mirror?!

Kevin: Why is that so funny? I don't have a mirror in here.

Call me old-fashioned (no, let's not), but it struck me as weird. Truly we are living in a different era when people peer into electronic gadgets to see their reflection. Surely there's some profound statement on life there, but I'm too tired to figure it out.

3) I think the whole P90X thing is going to Ladies Man's head. I found three of his shirts in the laundry this week with their sleeves cut off. You know what that means, right?

4) In an attempt to dispel any high falootin' notions you may have of me, I have to tell you what I did Sunday morning. I'd gotten a deal on a dress the day before and while getting ready to wear it to church, I noticed panty lines showing where I didn't want them. I must tell you I am a panty line Nazi. They drive me batty! If you ever see a panty line on me, PLEASE don't tell me. I will be scarred for life. Anyway, I got this new dress on and saw panty lines. No worries, I thought, just get a different pair. I broke out a brand new pair and same thing. I went thru panty after panty after panty, different styles, different cuts, different waistbands, but every single one (and I tried on at least 5-6 pairs) showed some lines I couldn't ignore. It was so bad I even tried going commando, but couldn't bring myself to do it. Finally I remembered two pairs of underwear I have that I really should throw away. Their waistbands are so loose they hardly stay up, but because of that they work great for this sort of occasion. I rifled through my drawers to discover both pairs were dirty. And can you guess? Yes, I really am that vain. I found a pair in the dirty clothes and wore them.

Nothing special about me, people. Disgusting, maybe. Special, nah. Does it make you feel better I put on clean underwear when I changed out of the dress?

5) Drummer Boy popped in on us unexpectedly in the middle of the week. It was a great surprise to see him walk in the door. It makes me think he may miss us as much as we miss him. GREAT SEEING YOU, SON!

We're hoping to see more of him and Drama Queen in the next week. Our college kids are on Spring break starting today. Drama Queen will be here all week (YAY!) and Drummer Boy may spend a few days (I hope so!).

The only draw back is now I'll feel the need to cook more. And better. Should it hurt my feelings that when Drummer Boy stopped at our house the other day he wasn't hungry, but ate everything his grandma offered when he went over there later?

Great I'm a bad cook AND a disgusting dresser. Boo.

6) Ladies Man (trying to rile us up): Can I quit high school?

Me (not falling for the bait): No.

Kevin: What would you do if you quit high school?

Ladies Man: Oh, I don't know. Ruin my life.

Yep, that's right, buddy. Don't forget it.

7) We've got a busy weekend planned. Today at 9:25 Kevin will be interviewed on our local public radio station (91.1 FM for those you who may want to listen) regarding the Beatrice Regional Orchestra concert coming up next weekend. It's going to be an awesome affair as we're being joined by the Beatrice High School Choir and the Norris High School Choir, accompanying them on a Festival Mass piece that is going to be spectacular. (In case you live within distance, you won't want to miss it Saturday, March 24th in the Hevelone Center at 7:00.)

After the radio interview we're headed to Miss Innocent One's show choir competition. Saturday we're going to a Drum Line competition and see Drummer Boy's group do their "sick" thing. Ladies Man and Drama Queen saw it a few weeks ago and described it that way.

Hmmm, I'm starting to regret telling that underwear story. They may label me "sick" next and mean it in a whole different light.

That's all I got for today, friends. Hopefully I'll have some pictures to document our weekend for next time. Enjoy the gorgeous weather, resist the urge to look for panty lines on me and read more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.

Buying God a Smoothie

The thought appeared when I noticed a woman in the parking lot who looked a little like a woman I'm acquainted with. You should take her a smoothie. It sounded ridiculous. She would think I was crazy. I don't really know the woman, but she's been sick. Could an unexpected treat brighten her spirits?

Years ago when these sorts of ideas popped into my head, I would dismiss them as being silly. Why would I take a smoothie to someone I barely know? What would she think? What if she hates smoothies? What flavor do I even buy? Would she want the whipped cream or not? But over the years God has taught me to do it anyway. Though it's scary, I've had some really neat encounters with people by following these "silly" suggestions. I've decided they are God's calling and the sooner I do them, the faster I get the blessing for being obedient. I reason it can't hurt anything, right? Doesn't the thought count? Even if the woman hates smoothies, someone thinking of her may mean something. And what's the big deal for me, a few bucks and ten minutes?

So I bought the smoothie, looked up her address (that tells you how well I know her) and went straight to her house. When I got there, the front door was open and I was hopeful I caught her there. Still not sure how I would explain it, I trusted God to bring the words the way He always does, and rang the doorbell. No answer. I rang it again. Nothing. I peeked in and saw nothing. I knocked on the storm door. No movement. I knocked harder. Nada.

Was I imagining a message from God? She wasn't home or maybe wasn't in any shape to come to the door. What was I supposed to do with that? By this time the smoothie was half melted and I really didn't want to eat it myself, so I took it to my husband. As I drove away from his office I wondered what just transpired. And another thought popped into my brain.

. . . whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.

Matthew 25:40

Does it count if she never knew about it? If she didn't receive the smoothie, was the task completed? Was it a waste? "But you did it," God whispered, "You did it for me."

So I guess I bought God a smoothie today and got a whole new perspective on how the act doesn't matter as much as the obedience. How the other party responds, or whether they know of your attempts at kindness, is irrelevant. Whatever we do for one of the least of these brothers (whether they know or understand or appreciate it), we do for God.

How have you "bought God a smoothie?"



Photo Credit: LA Wad

The Glue

I am my beloved’s, And my beloved is mine.

Song of Solomon 6:3

Even after 25 years together, the familiarity of him, his scent, his strong hands, his soft lips, the way our bodies mesh . . . I'm still sucked in. As he nears, I still catch my breath and feel the flutters.

How can this be?

Growing up I assumed these feelings were reserved for the young who were "hopelessly in love." I thought as you grew older they dissipated, but years of learning and understanding more about each other has only heightened our passion. I am my beloved’s, And my beloved is mine. And as he comes close, years of intimate, precious moments have conditioned my response. I can't help but melt.

Getting here hasn't been easy. Developing this level of trust has required awkward, uncomfortable discussions, painful honesty. We've had to admit to our own junk and be willing to give instead of getting. We've had to reveal more about ourselves than was comfortable many times, but the payoff has been well worth it.

I am my beloved’s, And my beloved is mine.

When I want respite from fear and my own expectations, from the world, when I want freedom from being anything to anybody, I long to escape in his arms, to feel love in his tender touch, to know acceptance despite my flaws. I want to run to my personal sanctuary established through years of knowing each other. I want to go to the place where there is no question I am loved.

Our physical union lays the groundwork for emotional bonding, enabling us to give more, to compromise and overlook annoyances. The connection established in our bed, breeds loyalty, trust, belonging, home.

For in the sacred chamber of our bedroom, there's no hiding. We are as vulnerable as two people can be. When we find acceptance and desire, security and trust in a position so revealing, how can that not spill over into every area of our lives? If I feel safe there, where I am completely exposed, won't I be more likely to follow his leading, to trust his decisions? I am confident of his care for me when I feel it in his touch.

Our private encounters, shared with no one else, provide the glue that binds us. Decades of coming together as one has forever linked us. God loves me very well through my husband, my beloved, flesh of my flesh. Sex is part of God's mysterious plan that makes it happen.

How has your physical relationships bound you and your spouse?

Read more Marriage Monday posts at Chrysalis.

7 Quick Takes (Volume 174)

1) We've been having discussions lately on the Ten Commandments at our house. It started when I told Miss Innocent One how my dad used to warn me as a child when I was getting under his skin. "Number 5!" he'd say in reference to the 5th commandment, "Honor your father and mother that your days may be long."

Apparently Miss Innocent One thought she was getting slighted one morning.

Miss Innocent One: Number 11, number 11. Honor your children.

Me: There is no number 11. Give it up.

Kevin: Actually the Bible says "Spare the rod, spoil the child."

Me: And also, "Fathers, don't exasperate your children."

Whoop. The last word. And I got it! He got the last eye roll though, so I guess we're even.

2) Wives, doesn't it annoy the snot out of you when your husbands do not take care of their own little problems? Kevin had a scratch on his hand for at least a week that kept getting redder and redder. I told him repeatedly he needed to put some antibiotic ointment on it and he kept ignoring it, like it's some display of manhood to have an infected wound or something. Grrr. Finally, I got the Neosporin and band-aid out myself.

Me (while putting on the ointment and band-aid): I just want you to know this is so annoying to me. Why can't you take care of this yourself? This could have been gone had you taken care of it right away.

Kevin: I'm not wearing that band-aid all day. I can tell you that right now.

Me: I'm sure you won't. Just let it sit a while.

Kevin: Now the band-aid's gonna rip the hair off my hand.

Can't you just hear that whiny, little boy voice?

Me: Just keep it on there a few hours, sissy boy.

Ladies Man and Miss Innocent One both started laughing.

Me: What?

Miss Innocent One: Sissy boy?

Kevin: She's a little irritable today.

Me (slapping him on the rear): Oh, I am not.

And then to get an extra jab in, he had to add another commandment.

Kevin: Wives, be submissive to your husbands.

All you women out there know exactly where my mind went, right?

Me: It doesn't say anywhere you can't hit them!

3) I'm not sure if Ladies Man was tired of the shenanigans or truly worried about our attitudes.

Ladies Man: Can we just love God and live?

There's a motto for life. Love God and live. A little reminiscent of the 70's flower children, if you ask me. That makes me want to hit something again. Maybe I am slightly irritable.

4) Here's a good tip for any of you out there with nut allergies. Ladies Man is allergic to peanuts. Lately he's noticed his throat getting scratchy every time he used certain kinds of chapstick. He looked up the ingredients in the ones that were bothering him and discovered that shea butter and jojoba oil, common materials in chapstick, are linked to nut allergies. If you've got a kid with nut allergies, pay close attention to the chapstick they're using! Since he's switched to Blistex ointment, he's had no trouble.

5) I had a fun evening out with all my kids Monday. Ladies Man, Miss Innocent One and I met Drummer Boy and Drama Queen halfway for dinner (poor Kevin had other obligations). Drummer Boy gets hairier every time I see him, reminding me he really is a man and I really am the mother of a man. Weird. How did this happen?

Anyway, you know your family's growing when you spend $40 at Subway! I'm not kidding you! Ladies Man ended up eating TWO pizzas and all the other kids had footlong subs. Add drinks and chips and it adds up. They made me feel like an itty bitty little thing with my regular size sandwich and glass of water. And I never feel itty bitty. Bonus.

6) When Drama Queen knew we were meeting for dinner, she asked if I would pick up a few things for her at Walmart, telling me she would pay me back. When I told her that wasn't necessary she texted this.

Drama Queen: Ughhh...why do you have to be nice and complicate everything?

She was joking, of course. That girl never ceases to crack me up.

7) Kevin and Ladies Man are still hard at P90X. They hit the halfway point this week. To say I am pleasantly surprised is an understatement. I am shocked. And digging the new ripples on my man.

It's okay. I can say that. I have a license. And I'm not afraid to use it.

Hope you all have a terrific weekend. Read more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.

A Reason to Do It Anyway

When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise.

Proverbs 10:19

This is not good news for a blogger. Or a Bible study leader. Or someone who aspires to be a writer and occasionally finds herself standing before others telling her story.

When words are many, sin is not absent.

Yikes.

My very next word has the potential to sin, to damage, to destroy. And I put words out there for all the world to see? What's the matter with me?! Am I asking for trouble?

I consider myself a pretty NON-confrontational type of person. I don't like to ruffle feathers. Criticism or disagreement get to me. I'm not one to stir up trouble, at least not on purpose.

So why do I do this? Why does this people pleasing introvert subject herself to possible sin and scorn?

I just can't help it. These thoughts whir and stir and I figure if I'm feeling a certain way, I can't be the only one. I take to heart Paul's words in 2 Corinthians that tell us to comfort others with the comfort we have received from God. I tell myself no one cares what I think, but God says, "Do it," so I do. I hope I don't sound stupid and often feel the work is "hack," but I'm learning to trust Him to make good of it.

I see myself as one of the stones Jesus referred to.

“I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”

Luke 19:40

I have to cry out. Everything in me wants others to know.

So I'll take a deep breath each time my fingers hit the keyboard. I'll pray like crazy for divine inspiration and guidance and protection. I'll take the risk and work through the blather and do what God says to do.

It's my reason to do it anyway.

What do you do simply because God tells you to do it?


Photo Credit: Biappi

When There Are No Words

The four of us sat in the room, words tumbling, attempting to remedy an ugly situation. Stored up hurt got too heavy and broke the dam days before and now we tried desperately to salvage something of the relationship. There weren't enough "I'm sorry"s to fix it. Apologies were appreciated, but didn't mend mangled hearts. Disappointment and pain and awkwardness hung in the air, but as people committed to Christ we knew His mandate to forgive.

How do you forgive when the hurt lingers, reaches deep into your gut?

We had no answer, but knew Who did. The faith that drew us together dictated our next move. We joined hands in prayer. As the Spirit moved, my own guilt weighed me down so much that when it was my turn to pray, I had nothing to say. My words got us in this mess to begin with.

What do you pray when words are inadequate, when you are so aware of your faults, your failures, your sins?

All I could muster up were the sentiments of King David who articulated it so well.

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

There was much more in the passage from Psalm 51 that I'd memorized, but I couldn't get it out. Sadness overcame me and as the prayer ended, I dropped my head into my husband's lap and sobbed.

Tears cleansed. Friends were gracious. And God's Word was alive, active, an oasis in many sad days ahead.

I want people to fill their minds with passages of Scripture while they are well and strong, that they may have sure help in the day of need. I want them to be diligent in studying their Bibles, and becoming familiar with their contents, in order that the grand old Book may stand by them and talk with them when all earthly friends fail. From the bottom of my heart, I pity that person who never reads their Bible. I wonder how they expect to draw their consolation in their time of need.

J.C. Ryle

When there are no words, HIS Word supplies. In tender, hard moments, in dark days with heavy hearts, the Word speaks to the depths of our beings. It identifies, soothes, encourages our flailing spirits. But if we haven't put it there beforehand, how will it bubble to the top when needed? It can't surface if it hasn't been planted.

When there are no words, HIS Word supplies.

If we know it.

Has His Word come to your aid exactly when you needed it?


Click over to Sunflower Faith to find more impressions of this quote.

Photo Credit: 27147

Egg in Bottle Salvation Message

I did a little demonstration at a women's event on Saturday. My kids wanted me to recreate it for them at home and Miss Innocent One taped it. And now, presto! An easy post! Yes! (Reminder: Emails subscribers will have to click over to the actual blog to see this.)

7 Quick Takes (Volume 173)

1) I'm very careful when I write about my kids or post pictures of them on this blog. If ever I'm in doubt, and often when I'm not, I ask their permission before posting things about them. So imagine my surprise when Drama Queen complained about last week's Quick Takes.

Drama Queen: Thanks a lot, Mom, for making me look bad today.

Me: What? I just wished you a happy birthday. I said nice things.

Drama Queen: Yeah, well I decided to read the Quick Takes before class started and when I scrolled down there was this huge picture of me. I had to quick click off of it so people didn't think I was staring at pictures of myself.

How is everything always the mother's fault?!

2) Since I banned him from wearing velour shirts after we were married, my husband has had great fashion sense. He picks most of his clothes himself and I like his style. This, however, made me wonder if I need to keep an eye on him.

He's been telling me he needs an eye appointment. Must be time to get on it.

3) Drama Queen was home last weekend for her birthday. On any of her siblings' birthdays, she takes it upon herself to scare the bejeebers out of them, yelling and bouncing on their beds to wake them up. She took all the fun out of it for the other kids getting up before they could do it, so Miss Innocent One tried a new tactic. She waited until Drama Queen was ready to get into the shower, plum naked of course, then stormed into the bathroom yelling, "Happy Birthday!" Drama Queen rewarded us all with a scream of all screams.

Those of you who know Drama Queen, know that she will not be outdone. A few days later as Miss Innocent One sang innocently in the shower, Drama Queen snuck in, yanked the shower curtain back and yelled, "Hey there!"

You can imagine, right? Suffice it to say it's probably a good thing there's a drain in the shower!

4) I'm not sure what happens to Ladies Man whenever Drama Queen comes home. He becomes a raving lunatic as evidenced by this "song" he created for her. (BEWARE--This gets loud! Of course.)


Now you understand my need for quiet?

(Remember those of you receiving this via email will have to click over to the actual blog to view this video.)

5) I learned a new acronym this week--NNTR. It stands for No Need To Reply and in the context I learned it, applied to emails. You know how this goes. You get an email and you feel it polite to respond, which the other person does too and before you know it, you're caught in this never ending email loop, not wanting to be the jerky one to stop the correspondence. NNTR eliminates these unnecessary niceties. You simply put NNTR in the subject line and release any burden of reply.

I'm thinking I could use this in so many ways. I could text my kids saying, "You need to be home in ten minutes. NNTR" and could avoid the bargaining that is sure to come otherwise. I could carry a little card with me, stamped NNTR, and when I compliment someone and they try to tell me how wrong I am, I could hold up the card. This could be such a good tool!

When my daughter wants to wear shorts to school in February, I say, "No" and flash the NNTR card. When someone asks me to do something I don't want to, I simply refuse and NNTR. I text my husband, "Bring home dinner. NNTR." If I use this right, I may be able to stand Facebook chat again. "Well, hi there. Yes, I'm fine. Hope you are well. NNTR" and I'm out. No long drawn out conversations about nothing.

NNTR. Where have you been all my life?

6) Drama Queen is a Pinterest addict. On Saturday she decided she needed to try some idea she saw there for making a t-shirt that's too big for you, smaller. You know those fleece blankets you make by cutting strips and tying them together. It is the same idea, where you cut out the inside seam, cut strips and then tie them together. This seemed like a bad idea to me in the first place. Who wants all those little knots poking you in the side? But since she cannot be told she is wrong, Drama Queen persevered and ended up with this lovely shirt.

Yeah. Epic fail. Don't you love the huge gap under her armpit and flap above it?

7) Alas. Boo. And sniff. We haven't seen Drummer Boy in a few weeks. We tried to hook up with him in Omaha last weekend, but it didn't work out. And there's nothing exciting on his Facebook wall either. Proof he's a busy guy, I guess. I'm gonna give a shout out to him anyway. We miss you, Drummer Boy!

And that's all I got today, people. Go get on with your lives or read more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.