31 Days: #29 Crumbs in my butter

I love visiting with people, but when my house is the meeting place, I panic. And I mean panic. I am not ashamed to admit it--I have a phobia of house guests.

I wrote a 5-minute Friday post not too long ago about friends, and in it I mentioned how with a true friend you don't have to worry about picking the crumbs out of your butter before they come over for supper. That statement got me several comments (and even one from The Gypsy Mama herself!) because everyone understands that. And if you don't, I'm sorry but I can't have you over for supper.

But it's so true. When I'm expecting company, I start having my fit about an hour before they get there. Instead of rejoicing over my freshly-scrubbed bathrooms and newly vacuumed floors, I'm freaking out over the spaghetti splatters in the microwave or the dried up spills in the bottom of the fridge or the dust caked on tops of every baseboard in my house. Or the crumbs in my butter.

Visits from my parents don't count, of course. They dealt with the condition of my room for eighteen years and loved me anyway (despite the fact that our household ant problem growing up was probably all my fault).  So I don't even get out of my pajamas or throw dishes in the sink or make the kids stuff their junk out of sight when I know it's just my parents stopping by.

But generally speaking, hosting people really stresses me out. And I don't want to not have people over just to avoid the stress. I'll just have to learn to let some things go and just have them over anyway. And pray for the gift of hospitality.

I'd like to be a great entertainer. The Lord has given me a home surpassing anything I ever expected given my current situation, and I want to share it.  Just know that if you ever see crumbs in my butter, I count you as a really close friend. :)

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #27 Falling short as a mom

The other morning we got half-way to school and I noticed that #4's hair looked like a bird's nest. So if his hair was undone I figured other things were, too. I soon found out he didn't brush his teeth, either. I didn't check to see if he was wearing socks because I didn't even want to know.

Those what-kind-of-mother-am-I thoughts hit me hard during moments such as these, thoughts like how I've not taught my children great organizational skills. How I've not modeled wise time management. How I fear they'll grow up to freak out the in the same ways I do.

I worry when they grow up their houses will look like their rooms. And smell like their rooms. I cringe thinking their socks might be pink for the rest of their lives. And how when they think back to Sunday dinners they might only remember bowls of cereal.

But later in the day I read a prayer a mother prayed over her children and one line moved me to tears. May they be Your disciples.

And I realized then that this is all I really want for my kids. May they be His disciples. Even if I do fall short as their mother, what does it matter because all I really want is for them to know Jesus and to follow Him all the days of their lives. 

And by the grace of God they will, in spite of an imperfect upbringing filled with pink socks, bird-nest hair, and cereal for supper. Lord, may they all grow up to follow You.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days #11: Laundry

This summer my washer broke. And when it did, I got so excited I wanted to turn a cartwheel because I'd been dying for a new cute red washer and dryer. Still, I made the obligatory call to the repair guy, but he came out and said it wasn't worth fixing.  {Darn.}

So I went to hunting for a good deal, and within a few days, my laundry room had been transformed from boring to beautiful by all the new red cuteness.

I was going to set my old washer on the curb, but I offered the dryer to my mom because it still worked well {it just wasn't red}. She said she'd take it, and she'd go ahead and take the washer, too {even though I told her it wasn't worth fixing...}.

She ended up buying a part off of Amazon and fixed the old washer herself for $100.

But still, I was okay with it because now I had red. Having a cuter washer/dryer set was supposed to make me want to wash more often. All the amazing new features were supposed to make doing laundry a new favorite pastime for me. Heck, this new dryer even had steam. No more throwing a wet rag in to get the wrinkles out. So we got all ready to experience a complete laundry revolution.

I've had four months now to revolutionize things around here, and as it turns out, I still hate doing laundry. I can't keep up with it no matter what color of washer and dryer I have.

I wish I were more like the Proverbs 31 woman. I bet she was amazing at getting her laundry done. Either that or she made so much money selling purple that she just paid someone to do it for her.

So this three-day holiday is over now and I just realized I don't have a single thing to wear tomorrow because I haven't done a stitch of laundry all weekend. Better hop to it.

At least my washer and dryer are cute. :)

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #7 Hiding my mess-ups

Big Brother came into the room and asked Little Brother, "Did you take the batteries out of my remote?". His "no" came a little too quickly, and I smelled a rat. Batteries are a precious commodity around our house, especially to my video game-loving boys.

So I went to questioning. "Did you take them? Think hard before you answer. It's better to admit what you did and then say you're sorry."

He paused and I stared harder, and then came his barely audible "Yes" ... and off he went to set things right. It's comical sometimes, seeing what they try to get away with. Still, stealing isn't funny, and neither is lying about it.

Why is it so hard to admit it when we mess up? Why do we scramble to hide the truth when the agony of trying to cover our mistakes is such a poor substitute for the benefit gained in saying "I'm wrong"? Burying things can make us miserable.

I was ten years old and a friend and I were in a K-mart restroom stall together when she took a marker out of her purse and went to writing on the stall door. I couldn't believe it! I was scared to death and should've run, but I stayed. And helped out a little. I don't remember what we wrote, but I do remember it was quite thrilling despite the butterflies in my stomach.

But the thrill came to a halt when we saw a K-mart worker approaching us a few minutes later. As it turned out, she'd been only a few stalls down and heard the "squeak" of our marker moving across the wall. So she walked right up to my friend's mother and accused us of vandelism. I wanted to die a thousand deaths on the spot. But then I looked over at my friend and her response dumbfounded me. She simply said, "Nope, it wasn't us." She sounded so innocent, and again, I couldn't believe it.

So moments later I followed her into the suitcase department and watched her glance both ways then poke that marker between two bags so we wouldn't get caught with the evidence. And somehow or another, we got away with the whole thing.

But I didn't, really, because I worried about it for years. I'm sure I told the Lord I was sorry, but I definitely didn't tell another human soul. And I lived in terror that my friend would. So I learned even then that there is no peace in burying our mistakes.

Something supernatural happens when we admit we're wrong. Somehow it helps us make peace with the consequences we're likely to suffer, and it releases us from the turmoil of hiding our mess-ups.

I wish I could go back and make amends for the the countless apologies I should've made but didn't. And I'd love to have back even a fraction of the energy I've wasted trying to cover it all up. But what relief it is to know I don't have to hide from the One who sees all, knows all, and whose Grace freely flows into the deepest recesses of my shame-filled heart.

So I can't go back, but from now on I can make it my mission to say "I did it, and I'm sorry". It's just easier.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #4 A messy closet

It's horrible and I don't dare post a picture of it. It's full of clothes I'll never wear (but might), shoes I'll never wear (but might), and numerous laundry baskets full of more clothes, both dirty and clean.

I hang onto my fat clothes and skinny clothes, out-of-style clothes that might come back around, and clothes so trendy I don't have the nerve to wear them. Then there are the piles of clothes I've tried on throughout the week and changed my mind about wearing, but didn't hang back up.

And my shoe issue is out of control. I keep way too many uncomfortable-but-cute shoes that just might be perfect with that one certain outfit, otherwise I'm not wearing them but I'd better keep them anyway just in case. I have over fifty pairs of shoes and I am not kidding. And surely you don't think they're neatly organized on shoe racks, or lined up in a row on the floor. No.

And then there are boxes and bags and bins and all kinds of other miscellaneous containers full of junk, because after all, I have a large master closet and it's just a good place to stash all the things I don't know what else to do with.

I have friends who are disciplined with their wardrobes. If they don't wear it within a year, it's gone. If they buy anything new to wear, they remove the equivalent from their current wardrobe. Some of them just don't buy it in the first place, which is the smartest way to go.

It's time to let go, time to pass things on to someone who can use them. Sometimes I watch those hoarding shows and I can't imagine things getting that bad. Yet I see in myself some of the same tendencies, even if on a much smaller scale.

So I don't have any organizational wisdom to share because I'm just not gifted that way. For me, it's all about detaching from material possessions and exhibiting a little self-control (so as not to buy things I don't need in the first place), generosity (giving it away so that others who do need it can have it), and discipline to stay on top of the mess (instead of leaving it to deal with later).

But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him? 1 John 3:17

{This post is part of the 31 Days series running through the month of October 2011. If you want to jump in, you can link up here.}

Day 1: An aversion to crowds

Day 2: Impatience

Day 3: Lamenting my past

5-minute Friday: "Friends"

GO.
A friend is someone who, when she comes over for supper, you don't feel the need to pick the crumbs out of your butter first. You don't rush to scrub your bathrooms, you don't do your kids' hair, you don't even pick the clothes up out of the floor because the last time you were at her house it was so messy you couldn't believe it and when you saw it you just smiled to yourself and whispered Thank You, Lord.

A friend is thrilled for you when something good happens. She might wish it for herself too, and she even might be a little jealous but prays herself through it. But even more than that, she prays you through it.

She doesn't demand all your time. Yet when your life falls apart, she's there in a flash. When you mess up and things are all out of whack, she's there. And she doesn't judge but instead comes clean about what she's thinking. And still you don't feel condemned because she knows your heart even when it seems no one else does. She does the one thing you need the most. She points you toward Jesus.

A good friend loves at all times--loves you, loves your kids, loves your man, loves your parents. She even loves your dogs. Lord, may I be that kind of friend.
STOP.

* Linking up with Lisa-Jo over at The Gypsy Mama today. Happy Friday!

Falling apart

I don't like this. It's not like I imagined it would be, and it overwhelms me trying to hold it all together when it only wants to fall apart.

Yet I know the most wonderful things come out of the most painful predicaments. I know that in the most dire situations He's doing His most amazing work. I know that when it all goes to ruins, somehow it turns out He was just removing the old to bring in the new.

So, I don't like this. And I'm certain that means He's doing something wonderful.

Job 42

 1 Then Job answered the LORD and said:

 2 “I know that You can do everything,
And that no purpose of Yours can be withheld from You.
 3 You asked, ‘Who is this who hides counsel without knowledge?’
Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand,
Things too wonderful for me, which I did not know."

* Linking up with Internet Cafe Devotions for Word-Filled Wednesday and A Holy Experience for Walk with Him Wednesdays.

Grace that covers my messes

The other day my younger daughter got in trouble because of her messy room. It was a catastrophe in there, and things got even worse once she started cleaning. At one point, when I looked in to find that the chaos had multiplied, I almost blew a gasket. Just seeing it sent my blood pressure soaring.

But she really does have an affinity for organization (if rarely tapped into), so after working on it for awhile, she cleared a lot of the clutter away, and things started looking pretty good. The next time I walked by, I saw quite a lot of improvement, so I let it go.

Sometimes I look at my life and see that the mess I've made of things is pretty unbelievable, too. One poorly made decision can lead us down a path of untold heartache. Then we try to fix our mess the best we know how, but we make things worse instead of better. Maybe we don't seek the Lord's help, for whatever reason (shame, pride, ignorance, etc.). In fact, I've known a lot of people who've actually been mad at God because of their circumstances. I empathize with irrational thinking of various types, but so far I haven't gotten mad at God.

The person I blame for my mess is me. I'm the one who didn't always seek His will for my life. I'm the one who failed to choose the route leading me to a life of His very best for me. I really have messed up in a big way, and it overwhelms me often. Sometimes the consequences of an ill-chosen path are enough to chasten us into doing better next time, because it's never fun to clean up a mess.

But I serve a gracious God. I can go to Him with my catastrophes and beg Him to help me fix things. And He shows me His abounding grace time after time and leads me out of the mayhem. He clears away my clutter, He helps me figure out how to go about reorganizing and prioritizing things, and He gets me back on track (His track).

Thinking back, I wish I'd shown my daughter grace the other day. I wish I'd helped her clean up the mess instead of getting upset about all the bad choices she'd made to let things get to that point. What would my life be like if the Lord came down as hard on me for my bad decisions?

I'm definitely not my children's best example of how not to make messes, nor am I skilled at cleaning them up. But my Gracious God accomplishes His purposes in me anyway--in spite of me.

And He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness...."   2 Corinthians 12:9a

My scattered life

I'm so tired I could cry. Anything and everything has happened this week, and there is simply too much to do.

I had to make a trip to Wal-mart yesterday afternoon to purchase some things for work. Among the things I bought were some of those Rubbermaid shoebox-size containers I plan to use to organize things in my office, so I bought a whole bunch of them (if you saw my office, you would understand).

I got checked out, proud to have finished my shopping quickly, but as I was loading everything up in the back of my vehicle, I heard this dreadful sound behind me. I didn't really want to know what had made that noise, but I turned around anyway to see that most of my thirty-two brand new lids had blown out of my buggy and across the parking lot. Ugh. I'd barely had the courage to face Wal-mart, let alone chase lids across the parking lot. Thankfully a nice man and his daughter helped me gather them all back up again and get them loaded.

And as I drove off, I thought about how right now I am just as scattered as those stupid lids were. As any educator will understand, May is one of the most stressful times of the year. To add to this, I've had a child in the hospital this week to visit daily, while my other three have had all sorts of nightly activities to attend. As a result, I'm overwhelmed and plain worn out. The kids and I have had little to wear because I can't get the laundry done and nothing to eat because I can't find time to go to the store. So after all these days of little sleep and eating on the run, my body is suffering. And the pressure has been building and building, to the point where I feel like I might explode at any second.

One morning this past week, I read a devotional that talked about Daniel and how he was in the habit of praying prayers of thanks three times a day. He didn't complain to the Lord about his problems, the way I've done so incessantly lately. His habit was to thank God, no matter what was going on in his life. When I read this devotional, I thought,Wow...I need to take a lesson here.

But did I take a lesson? No. Instead, I went right on being stressed. I went right on not praying and dwelling on all that's wrong right now. On the way to work, I said "Excuse me, Lord, but what are you doing to me, here? How much can one person possibly handle? How am I supposed to get all this done? Why do You give me so much at once?". When I got to my library, it was more of the same as I verbalized my complaints to my friend. I griped and cried and whined and moaned and complained. I was one pitiful mess.

But then a teacher who'd been working across the room stood up and walked over to me and said "Let's pray, right now". I was caught off guard since the last thing I'd thought about doing in the midst of my pity party was to pray. But she prayed the sweetest prayer ever---a prayer that brought incredible peace to my heart. It turns out she was stressed, too, and her prayer was a wonderful reminder that in the midst of chaos, we can call out to God and ask Him for His peace, His grace, His help, and His strength. It's all there waiting for me, but so often I forget to simply reach out and take it.

Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28

Thank You, Lord, for people You've put in my life that remind me to pray, and thank You that when I am so scattered and weary that I can't accomplish anything efficiently, You pull me back in and bring me to a place where I can rest in You. 

My purse is too heavy!

Today I am booked for my first ever speaking engagement. I know I'm called to do this sort of thing, but I definitely do not feel qualified. When a sweet pastor's wife called to invite me to speak at their church's mother-daughter luncheon, I asked if there was going to be a theme. She said "purses". I have to say I was stumped. After we hung up, I prayed, "Lord, help me!", and then I waited for a bit.

I started thinking about my purse, and then I thought about how junky it always gets. Most of the time I'm ashamed for anyone to see inside of it. This bothers me, yet I continue to carry all my junk around, no matter how heavy it gets or how much it hurts my shoulder. I often look in my purse and actually start clenching my jaw. How ridiculous to let the contents of my purse stress me out in this way! But sometimes I almost feel like the mess inside my purse runs parallel to the state of affairs in my messy life. So then I started thinking about all my baggage, and I thought of the many burdens I tend to carry. And then He gave me a scripture...

1 Peter 5:6  Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time,  7  casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.

I thought back over the things I've been through, and how the Lord has used every ounce of pain for my good, to refine me and to draw me into His presence. And I thought about how the load I carry these days is much, much lighter than it used to be. Then I started to ponder what has made the difference for me. I thought about how I'm learning to love Him more. I'm learning to hear Him speak. I'm learning to live by His grace. I'm learning to cling to His word. I'm learning to cast my cares upon Him and let Him carry my baggage for me. He has cleaned out my purse, and it feels amazing.

I've been asked to provide some encouragement to these women I'm speaking to by reminding them to look to God in the good times and bad. As I've continued to pray about this event today, the Lord has given me a list of things we can do to "clean out our purses" and unload all the baggage that so weighs us down.

• Trust in the sovereignty of God (Isaiah 55:8-9)
• Make Jesus our central focus (John 15:5)
• Walk in the Spirit (Romans 8:5-6)
• Spend time with Him (Luke 10:38-42)
• Forget the past and ask Him for a new start (Isaiah 43:18-19)

I know none of this really has anything to do with purses, but I see the symbolism here. If we work toward doing all these things, we really don't have to bear the weight of our burdens anymore. We can trust that God is in control. We can shift our focus from all the things of the world to the only One that matters. We can learn to walk in love rather than carry the baggage that comes from poor choices made while in the flesh. We can grow deeper spiritually through time spent with Him rather than wasting time on things that pull us away from Him. And perhaps the most freeing of all, we can put all the painful parts of our past to rest and look ahead to a bright future with the One Who brings hope to the hopeless. 

He wants us to cast our cares upon Him. He wants to carry my purse, even though it's way too heavy. He wants to carry your purse, too---whether it's an over-stuffed suitcase or a keychain wallet that hardly weighs a thing. What amazing love! 

Please pray for me and for the women I'm speaking to around lunch time today!