Last month I was so blessed to be able to go to the International House of Prayer in Kansas City for three days! I also visited with a very dear friend whom I have known for over 15 years but rarely get to see.
While I was in the prayer room, I was crying out to God that I really need Him to meet me daily with the strength and energy I need to care for the family He has given me. Instead of whining about it like I mostly have in the past, I simply came to Him in trust, knowing that He must have a way of providing for me since He gave me these responsibilities. In response, I felt that He promised to give me a burst of energy each day to help me accomplish more. Not just to push through the weariness, but to be able to run like a sprinter. I expected that burst to come during nap time, buying me a couple of extra hours each day to get something done instead of sleeping. Instead, He has been getting me up early!
I have never been (voluntarily) an early riser. But He has given me the faith to set my alarm for 5am every day so I can get most of my daily chores done and have an hour for quiet time with Him before the kids get up. And I am experiencing that burst of energy that He promised me! I am still often tired during the day, but not more than before. And I am so much more relaxed with the kids because I am able to get so much more done. I don't feel pressure during the day to try to get so much done while they're clinging to my legs (which just drives me crazy) and instead I can sit down and take more time with them during the day. I'm also slowly starting to be able to get control of some other organizing and cleaning projects that I haven't been able to get to for a long time.
I am so grateful that the Lord is meeting me in this totally unexpected way. I am still taking naps each day (totally crashing for an hour or two in the afternoons is a better way to put it), but I am in a better mood overall and feeling more hope than I have for a long time. In fact, I look forward to waking up each morning to have those uninterrupted hours of feeling good and getting stuff done!
My prayer for you is this: that you will open up your heart to the Lord in full trust, asking Him for what you really want and need. He wants to meet you there! I pray that the answer will come quickly and that you will be given the faith to step out and do what He says, even if the answer isn't what you expected.
Oh, how He loves us!
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Friday, September 12, 2008
Reality Check
While I was in the prayer room this morning, I wrote the following thoughts in my journal and shared them in our meeting afterward. They were encouraging to me and seemingly to others also, so I thought I would post them here as well.
If it takes all of God's power to live this everyday life, then even the very practical, "unspiritual" things I do must be very significant. What I do seems so unimportant on an eternal level. But how does heaven see it? With every load of laundry that I wash and fold, while I see only another shirt or pair of underwear, what do the angels see? If I do it with a resentful attitude, then they see only wood, hay, and stubble. (And who wants to fold that?) But if I humble myself to do the most menial chores as a sacrifice of love for Jesus and my family--even if I am struggling to maintain that attitude (it still counts)--then I am actually handling gold and silver and precious stones (see 1 Corinthians 3:9-13).
Even further, if I see the ones I am serving as who they really are, then I will tremble with awe at the privilege of being allowed to untie the sandals of these precious, glorious, beloved ones (see John 1:27).
If it takes all of God's power to live this everyday life, then even the very practical, "unspiritual" things I do must be very significant. What I do seems so unimportant on an eternal level. But how does heaven see it? With every load of laundry that I wash and fold, while I see only another shirt or pair of underwear, what do the angels see? If I do it with a resentful attitude, then they see only wood, hay, and stubble. (And who wants to fold that?) But if I humble myself to do the most menial chores as a sacrifice of love for Jesus and my family--even if I am struggling to maintain that attitude (it still counts)--then I am actually handling gold and silver and precious stones (see 1 Corinthians 3:9-13).
Even further, if I see the ones I am serving as who they really are, then I will tremble with awe at the privilege of being allowed to untie the sandals of these precious, glorious, beloved ones (see John 1:27).
Monday, August 11, 2008
The Season We're In
I wrote this post on my personal blog to share my thoughts on adoption, but I thought that it might be encouraging to all moms. Please click here if you'd like to read it.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Lesson on the Beach
About a month ago, my family was privileged to be invited to a beach house on the coast for several days. With our four very little children, we haven't yet been adventurous enough to take many family vacations. But, with other family members going along and a big house to stay in, this one seemed pretty safe, so we decided to take the plunge.
Vacationing with little ones is a lot of work, to say the least. By the time we were finally on the road, our van packed to the gills and then some, we were pretty exhausted and more than a little wondering whether it was worth it. After we'd been driving for about an hour, though, a lighter mood began to set in, and we started laughing about the many mishaps that had accompanied our attempts over the past hour just to get away from our house. Though it was now dinner time, we decided (with our kids' unanimous approval) to snack on trail mix and get going. (Good thing, too, because if we hadn't we might have given up and just stayed home.)
A couple of days later, though, my doubts about the sanity of whole thing returned with a vengeance. We tried each morning to get down to the beach to spend the morning there before lunch, naps, and sundown took over the rest of the day. However, by the time everyone was breakfasted, diapered, dressed, SPF'd (that part alone took half an hour), diapered again, and we had trekked down to the beach, it was invariably eleven o'clock and everyone was starting to get hungry again. Of course, we hadn't wanted to take the time to pack a lunch, so we were at least half an hour from food. (Thank heaven we'd remembered to bring the trail mix!)
The second day, just as we arrived at our favorite spot on the beach, my husband realized that we had forgotten our camera. He left rather abruptly to return to the beach house to get it. The kids had cousins to play with, so I began to get settled in to nurse the baby. Just as I sat down on a beach blanket, my three-year-old started crying that she just had to go to the bathroom right that minute. There was no way she could wait. My first thought was, "You just went before we left the house, and not only that, but we just passed the bathroom on the way to this spot, and it's a ten-minute walk back over scalding hot sand and through crowds of half-clad teenagers!" I tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted that she really had to go.
Grumpily, I dumped the baby in my grandmother's arms, grabbed my kids (everyone but Mommy thought a trip to the bathroom sounded like a fun adventure), and began marching off in the direction we had just come. Almost immediately we were accosted by a large dog, which in my children's mind is equal to a fire-breathing dragon. (He actually never came near us, but that didn't matter; his mere presence was enough to terrify them.) After some impatient coaxing, I got them past the dog, but then the hot sand began to burn their feet. Of course, in my haste, I had neglected to have them put the shoes that they had just kicked off back onto their feet. (After all, that would have added another five minutes to the trip!) I sighed, put my two-year-old on my shoulders, and sent the three- and five-year-old girls back the hundred yards we'd come so far to get their shoes. I don't remember how they made it past the dog, but they did. Several minutes later, with no sign of the girls, I started to worry that something might have happened to them. I started dragging myself back to check on them when they rounded the rocks toward me, explaining that they had been afraid to return alone because of the dog. I refused to say anything because I knew nothing I could say at that moment could be good for any of us. They bounced alongside me as I marched, half dragging them across the hot sand. After a few minutes they decided that hot sand wasn't so fun and began to whine. "WHY are we walking back to the bathrooms?" I asked. "Then DON'T COMPLAIN! I don't want to hear it!" All the time, inside, I was asking God, "Why did You give me these children? Why are we even here? You must have some point in this. PLEASE show it to me, because I am NOT having fun right now!" Sunscreen stung my eyes so that I could hardly see. My hair was blowing in my face. The sand was really hot, burning my feet too, and my two-year-old (still with no shoes on) was really heavy to carry over the sand dune. And all around me, carefree teenagers cavorted, sunbathed, and flaunted their freedom in my face.
Finally we made it to the bathroom. The emergency potty culprit sat on the toilet and almost immediately declared that she didn't have to go after all. I had no sense of humor at that moment. Barely cloaking my fury in sarcasm, I responded that I did not think walking back and forth all day over hot sand dunes was very fun and that we were not leaving that bathroom until something came out of her little bottom. I plopped down on a bench, set the heavy toddler down, sternly warned him not to move, and again asked God what was the point of all this. His answer immediately resonated through my soul: "You just served My little one." I sensed His pleasure washing over me, bringing a peace that had not existed in me just seconds before. More than a little ashamed of my tantrum (and relieved when she triumphantly declared success), a rather chastened and much more relaxed mommy helped a happy three-year-old wash her hands and made sure the five-year-old also made use of the facilities while we were there.
On the way back, I reflected that whether I got to do anything that I wanted to do on the trip was really unimportant. What suddenly mattered more than anything else was serving His little ones. If He found such pleasure in my doing that, bad attitude and all, then why not make that my goal? It was certainly more attainable than insisting on the fulfillment of my own selfish pleasure. By the time we got back to our cool spot on the beach, I was nearly free of all resentment. I figured that I would sit down and feed the baby, the kids would play with Daddy, and then we'd all head back to the beach house for lunch. And I was OK with that.
As it turned out, I did feed the baby, and the kids did play with Daddy. We then proceeded to have the best time together of the whole trip. Baby slept in Grandma's arms and trail mix staved off hunger an extra hour while we ran in the surf, wrote in the sand, explored tide pools, gathered shells, and took lots of pictures. And I enjoyed it all the more because by then I was simply grateful for the unexpected blessing of having a good time after all.
Vacationing with little ones is a lot of work, to say the least. By the time we were finally on the road, our van packed to the gills and then some, we were pretty exhausted and more than a little wondering whether it was worth it. After we'd been driving for about an hour, though, a lighter mood began to set in, and we started laughing about the many mishaps that had accompanied our attempts over the past hour just to get away from our house. Though it was now dinner time, we decided (with our kids' unanimous approval) to snack on trail mix and get going. (Good thing, too, because if we hadn't we might have given up and just stayed home.)
A couple of days later, though, my doubts about the sanity of whole thing returned with a vengeance. We tried each morning to get down to the beach to spend the morning there before lunch, naps, and sundown took over the rest of the day. However, by the time everyone was breakfasted, diapered, dressed, SPF'd (that part alone took half an hour), diapered again, and we had trekked down to the beach, it was invariably eleven o'clock and everyone was starting to get hungry again. Of course, we hadn't wanted to take the time to pack a lunch, so we were at least half an hour from food. (Thank heaven we'd remembered to bring the trail mix!)
The second day, just as we arrived at our favorite spot on the beach, my husband realized that we had forgotten our camera. He left rather abruptly to return to the beach house to get it. The kids had cousins to play with, so I began to get settled in to nurse the baby. Just as I sat down on a beach blanket, my three-year-old started crying that she just had to go to the bathroom right that minute. There was no way she could wait. My first thought was, "You just went before we left the house, and not only that, but we just passed the bathroom on the way to this spot, and it's a ten-minute walk back over scalding hot sand and through crowds of half-clad teenagers!" I tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted that she really had to go.
Grumpily, I dumped the baby in my grandmother's arms, grabbed my kids (everyone but Mommy thought a trip to the bathroom sounded like a fun adventure), and began marching off in the direction we had just come. Almost immediately we were accosted by a large dog, which in my children's mind is equal to a fire-breathing dragon. (He actually never came near us, but that didn't matter; his mere presence was enough to terrify them.) After some impatient coaxing, I got them past the dog, but then the hot sand began to burn their feet. Of course, in my haste, I had neglected to have them put the shoes that they had just kicked off back onto their feet. (After all, that would have added another five minutes to the trip!) I sighed, put my two-year-old on my shoulders, and sent the three- and five-year-old girls back the hundred yards we'd come so far to get their shoes. I don't remember how they made it past the dog, but they did. Several minutes later, with no sign of the girls, I started to worry that something might have happened to them. I started dragging myself back to check on them when they rounded the rocks toward me, explaining that they had been afraid to return alone because of the dog. I refused to say anything because I knew nothing I could say at that moment could be good for any of us. They bounced alongside me as I marched, half dragging them across the hot sand. After a few minutes they decided that hot sand wasn't so fun and began to whine. "WHY are we walking back to the bathrooms?" I asked. "Then DON'T COMPLAIN! I don't want to hear it!" All the time, inside, I was asking God, "Why did You give me these children? Why are we even here? You must have some point in this. PLEASE show it to me, because I am NOT having fun right now!" Sunscreen stung my eyes so that I could hardly see. My hair was blowing in my face. The sand was really hot, burning my feet too, and my two-year-old (still with no shoes on) was really heavy to carry over the sand dune. And all around me, carefree teenagers cavorted, sunbathed, and flaunted their freedom in my face.
Finally we made it to the bathroom. The emergency potty culprit sat on the toilet and almost immediately declared that she didn't have to go after all. I had no sense of humor at that moment. Barely cloaking my fury in sarcasm, I responded that I did not think walking back and forth all day over hot sand dunes was very fun and that we were not leaving that bathroom until something came out of her little bottom. I plopped down on a bench, set the heavy toddler down, sternly warned him not to move, and again asked God what was the point of all this. His answer immediately resonated through my soul: "You just served My little one." I sensed His pleasure washing over me, bringing a peace that had not existed in me just seconds before. More than a little ashamed of my tantrum (and relieved when she triumphantly declared success), a rather chastened and much more relaxed mommy helped a happy three-year-old wash her hands and made sure the five-year-old also made use of the facilities while we were there.
On the way back, I reflected that whether I got to do anything that I wanted to do on the trip was really unimportant. What suddenly mattered more than anything else was serving His little ones. If He found such pleasure in my doing that, bad attitude and all, then why not make that my goal? It was certainly more attainable than insisting on the fulfillment of my own selfish pleasure. By the time we got back to our cool spot on the beach, I was nearly free of all resentment. I figured that I would sit down and feed the baby, the kids would play with Daddy, and then we'd all head back to the beach house for lunch. And I was OK with that.
As it turned out, I did feed the baby, and the kids did play with Daddy. We then proceeded to have the best time together of the whole trip. Baby slept in Grandma's arms and trail mix staved off hunger an extra hour while we ran in the surf, wrote in the sand, explored tide pools, gathered shells, and took lots of pictures. And I enjoyed it all the more because by then I was simply grateful for the unexpected blessing of having a good time after all.
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| 2008May_Di |
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
What About My Children?
One question I have struggled with over the past year is this: If I am called to pursue God as my main goal in life (as is every believer), what about my children? What do I do about these wonderful, amazing, needy, overwhelming people that God has given me to care for? They have been my primary excuse for not pursuing God in the past. Recently, He gave me the bottom-line answer that I've been needing. And it came, no surprise, through my favorite devotional author.
"Where does Jesus Christ figure in when we have a concern about our natural relationships?" (My heart-ears pricked up when I read this.)
"Most of us will desert Him with this excuse -- 'Yes, Lord, I heard you call me, but my family needs me and I have my own interests. I just can't go any further' (see Luke 9:57-62)." (That's pretty much what I used to say.)
" 'Then,' Jesus says, 'you cannot be my disciple' (see Luke 14:26-33)." (Ugh. Okay, I'm listening!)
"If we will only give up, God will surrender Himself to embrace all those around us and will meet their needs, which were created by our surrender. Beware of stopping anywhere short of total surrender to God" (Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest, 3-12).
Can it be any clearer? My life must display complete surrender to God. Surrender even of the consequences to my children if I really give myself to knowing God. What about them? God will care for them. Far better, by the way, than I can, with all my worries, frustrations, and hangups.
I am not implying here any neglect of our families. If we begin to abandon our families, we are no longer living in obedience to Christ, but in slavery to selfishness. (I actually know of a mom who left her family in pursuit of her "calling," but she was deceived and destroyed her family.) As we pursue God, we will grow in respect for our husbands, love for our children, and service to our families. But we must do it out of devotion and obedience to Christ, not primarily because they need us.
And in the end we will find that they have benefited from our wholehearted love for Jesus far more than we could have imagined.
"Where does Jesus Christ figure in when we have a concern about our natural relationships?" (My heart-ears pricked up when I read this.)
"Most of us will desert Him with this excuse -- 'Yes, Lord, I heard you call me, but my family needs me and I have my own interests. I just can't go any further' (see Luke 9:57-62)." (That's pretty much what I used to say.)
" 'Then,' Jesus says, 'you cannot be my disciple' (see Luke 14:26-33)." (Ugh. Okay, I'm listening!)
"If we will only give up, God will surrender Himself to embrace all those around us and will meet their needs, which were created by our surrender. Beware of stopping anywhere short of total surrender to God" (Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest, 3-12).
Can it be any clearer? My life must display complete surrender to God. Surrender even of the consequences to my children if I really give myself to knowing God. What about them? God will care for them. Far better, by the way, than I can, with all my worries, frustrations, and hangups.
I am not implying here any neglect of our families. If we begin to abandon our families, we are no longer living in obedience to Christ, but in slavery to selfishness. (I actually know of a mom who left her family in pursuit of her "calling," but she was deceived and destroyed her family.) As we pursue God, we will grow in respect for our husbands, love for our children, and service to our families. But we must do it out of devotion and obedience to Christ, not primarily because they need us.
And in the end we will find that they have benefited from our wholehearted love for Jesus far more than we could have imagined.
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