weeklythoughtexchange

Do you ever feel like the YOU you want to be is just out of reach? Like you finally have everything just how you want it in life and then it slips out of your fingers as smoothly as a wave upon the sand? Perhaps it’s the vision you have for your home decorating style or maybe it’s the level of physical fitness you hope to maintain. On a less frivolous note, it might your children’s behavior in public or the unexpected struggles you are having with them. On a more personal level, you may be wrestling with habits of the heart that are so entrenched in your life you are beginning to wonder if they are irreparable traits of your personality that you are destined to live with forever. And then do you ever look around you at the other women in your life and feel like somehow YOU are the only one left out of the Got It All Together club? Somehow they have the immaculate homes, the perfectly toned bodies, the self-controlled attitudes, and the well-behaved kids that will never be yours.

Maybe it’s just me who has to take these frustrating thoughts captive on a nearly daily basis, but I have an inkling that I am not alone in my pity parties. I think that comparing ourselves with other women, even with our friends, in the areas where we feel the most insecure is one of our greatest weaknesses as women. I am not excusing us, but I do believe that it is helpful to identify this fact so that it can be addressed. I am also not saying that there is an easy fix to this all-too-common problem. There isn’t; I think that it is something we will have to fight against daily, and we will need to teach our daughters to do the same.

Yep, it’s going to be a daily fight, but there is hope! The Bible says that Jesus has begun a good work in us, and He will be faithful to complete it. These very struggles are what can draw us closer to Him because they are a daily reminder that we need Him. We will never have it all together; we will never be perfect, and if we ever start to think we are, well, that’s a certain indicator that we now have to deal with pride in addition to everything else. When are weaknesses, failings, mistakes, and imperfections start to consume us; when we want to just lock ourselves in our homes and never come out because we feel completely left out of the perfect club; when we think that there is nothing left that could wrong, and then it does; let’s take those moments to rejoice that His strength is made perfect in our weaknesses. Thank you, Jesus, that we need You every day!

P.S. I’m here if you’re ever feeling left out of the Got It All Together club. I’m thinking about giving up on applying for membership. 😉

Growing up on an island has limited my exposure to seasonal change. The knowledge I have about seasons has been gleaned from pictures, films, and the occasional visit to a different state or country.  I suppose I have a fairly romanticized opinion about seasons: baby birds chirping and tulips pushing through the thawing ground in the spring; Norman Rockwell’s county fairs, watermelon, and lounging by lakes or pools during summer; pumpkin patches and gloriously colored leaves of fall; Thomas Kinkade’s sleigh bells, twinkling lights, and icicles that depict winter.  Needless to say, I have to consciously remind myself that seasons are a part of life. What makes a season a season?

A season is temporary. We consider it abnormal if a season lasts longer than it’s allotted quarter of the year. We appreciate the seasons because we know they are not going to last forever and a bit of change is always nice.  Tell me about it! Thunderstorms are celebrated on my island because they are a luxurious break from the monotony of continual sun!

A season encourages growth. Each of our four seasons is linked to the one before it and the one after it. We need the snow and ice of winter to kill the pests that thrive in warmth; the showers of spring water the tender sprouts that are pushing through the softening ground; summer is a time of relaxation and maturation after the rapid growing of the season before; fall is a time to harvest the matured fruit and prepare for the rest that comes in winter.

A season offers opportunity. We enjoy the diversity of activities and holidays that come with each season. One certainly cannot go sledding in summer or apple-picking in spring! And unless you come to my island, you cannot go surfing on Christmas Day!  Lazing around is an almost-accepted luxury of summer and there are certain flowers that can only be plucked in the spring.  Try as we might, we cannot do every activity and celebrate every holiday all in one season. There is a time for everything.

And so it is with the seasons of the human journey. Our lives are in a continuous state of seasonal change that provide growth and offer opportunity. That renowned passage of Ecclesiastes 3 is beginning to imprint itself on my heart:

I am finally beginning to embrace the beauty of seasons in my life. For the nearly three years of my marriage and two years of motherhood, I have been trying to do it all – everything I did when I was single, everything I am called to do as a homemaker, everything I desire to do as a mom, and plan for everything that I might do in the future. I have been trying to live an entire year’s worth of seasons all at once and, believe it or not, it is impossible for the obvious reasons.

God is so good! The season of singleness is in the past; I can bid it adieu, knowing that I lived it to its fullest. The season of marriage is here; I can give it a warm kiss of welcome, praying that it will last until the day I die.  The season of motherhood is intertwined with that of being a wife; I can hold it closely now for I know that this will be the season that will change the most. For the time being, my babies are all about me; I am their nurturer, rescuer, and translator. They need me for everything and as exhausting as that might be, I know that it will be passed before I am ready. Motherhood is comprised of seasons within a season; I pray that Jesus will help me to treasure each one.

The book I plan to write, the languages I wish to learn, the volunteer work I would like to support, the ministries with which I hope to serve, the long conversations with friends that I long to have, the places I would like to visit…well, all of that and more are on my list for tomorrow’s tomorrow. Their season will come in time. Today is good, and I am going to live it with all of my heart.

It’s funny what running a new business can do to you. It can suddenly make you aware of the idiosyncrasies of human nature that were previously overlooked.

For instance, EVERYONE is social networking ALL the time, right? So promoting your business on Facebook seems like the logical thing to do, right?  Actually, not always right.  The problem is that because the social network is so frequently visited it is congested with information. In order to retain a certain level of sanity, people have learned survival techniques such as skimming or deleting whatever doesn’t hold their interest or seem pertinent to their mood that day.  I truly believe that less is more in the world of social networking.

I have also learned that I appreciate refusal etiquette on the rare occasions when it is used. Before now, I didn’t realize  that there were so many ways to say “No” and most of them come with a sting to the person offering the product. I can’t tell you how many times my offers and endeavors have been turned down and what a balm to the soul it is when they are turned down with appreciation and good wishes for the efforts I have exerted. More often than not, I am left with the impression that many people seem to forget that small business owners have feelings, hopes, and dreams too.  A polite decline with a genuine offer to help advertise can ease the disappointment.

Finally, for all the talk about supporting the entrepreneur, small business owner, or stay-at-home mom seeking to supplement the family’s income, that support can be hard to come by. I am just now developing the courage to speak freely and proudly about my businesses and the products I sell. For quite a while I hesitated to promote my businesses because I felt like a bad guy trying to wheedle people out of their money. “Oh no, here comes another direct sales person,” or “Facebook is not for businesses,” or “This group doesn’t allow advertising.”  The frustrating thing is that most moms working from home are limited in how much they can promote their business because they are at home. How else are we going to promote what we do unless we can talk to our friends and family about it when we are with them or share it on Facebook when our kids are napping?  However, the longer I am with my businesses, and the more people I meet through them, the prouder I am of the companies and products I promote and sell. The next time I mention one of them to you, please know that I am not trying to nag, wheedle, or manipulate you. I am simply wanting to share something with you that could truly brighten your day.

I am more than my businesses, but they are also a part of who I am. I am always observing, gleaning, and tweaking my business strategies. I do put careful thought into who I approach and how I approach.  I now understand what it takes to approach people about one’s business, how vulnerable one must become to do so.  I understand that we are all trying to make our way in this big, big world; my endeavors are not as important to you as they are to me and vice versa. But perhaps if we each recognized the value in each other’s efforts the toil might be a bit less arduous and the success a bit more within reach.

Night has come upon this Tuesday and tucked the sun in bed. I have a few moments all to myself and I am reflecting on the past week. I don’t know about you but sometimes life just doesn’t go the way I want it too. I frequently combat cynicism because it seems like so often when I allow myself to anticipate something, my plans will be thwarted some way, some how.  The past week has been especially difficult – A fourth Sunday of missing church, a second week of missed Bible study, Mother’s Day plans tossed aside, serious health concerns within my family, disagreements within my social circle, bidding farewell to a best friend, a sore and exhausted body, a selfish attitude that ruled my tongue…shall I continue?

The gentle nudging of a compassionate Savior is urging me to not allow my focus to remain on the mishaps, the scraped knees of my heart, the battered and bruised spirit that is ashamed of all that it has done wrong. How can I tell that He is nudging me? It’s the little significant things: timely Bible verses texted to me by a friend; regular check-ins by another friend; meeting lovely new neighbors; seeing how my businesses are really enabling me to connect or re-connect with incredible people; spontaneous toddler hugs; infant belly laughs; pets that know their daily routine; a husband who lets me cry out my burdens on his shoulder and who is the most loyal supporter and enthusiast of all I do.

Most of all, it’s those persistent Bible passages that pop into my mind when I am wrestling with my behavior, knowing that where I want to be is not where I really want to be: passages that remind to me to love when I have been wronged, to embrace self-sacrifice, to give when I would rather receive, to serve when I long to be served.  You see, the main reason this hasn’t been an easy week is because I have resisted laying my life down for others.  I wanted things to go my way and, just like any toddler who throws himself back and hits his head on the wall, my spiritual temper tantrums have only left me sore and exhausted. But God sets the standard for parenting; He consistently enforces His will through discipline but never once ceases from soothing and loving me back on track. I am thankful for that.

I don’t really know if I have a moral for this story; I just felt like writing, and I hope you were able to glean some nugget of truth or encouragement from it. If you did, I’d love to hear from you. I know that I always benefit when I read of other humans in real life, especially when they point to God as the hero that He is.

Call me naïve, outdated, old-fashioned, nothing but a housewife, but I honestly think that in the chaos of politics we have lost sight of what matters most to citizenry: patriotism.  I doubt that kids these days could even define patriotism, let alone recognize a patriot. Can I even go so far as to say that we, as an American people, are ashamed to be patriots? After all, what does it mean to be a patriot?

To properly define it, we must go back to the beginning of our country and remember what price was paid to have the country we now claim as our own.  This is a place where individuality was celebrated, where religious freedom was honored, where no dream was too big or impossible to consider.  If you had the willpower to explore, there were no boundaries.  And best of all, to reach our potential we needed others to reach theirs. There once was a time when it was dishonorable to not be a patriot because that meant you weren’t giving everything you had to make this country great, which meant you were holding out on your countrymen.  You see, patriotism isn’t about putting the government first; it’s about putting your neighbor first.  We have it all backwards now.

Politics isn’t all bad. It is a necessary tool for keeping law and order. Unfortunately, we now have loyalty to a political party or person rather than loyalty to the ideals and people of America.  The price we are having to pay for this mix-up is divisiveness, dishonesty, distrust. Citizens are now pulling away from love of country because they equate it to love of the government – and what is there to love about the state of our government these days? In desperation, it is every man doing what is best for himself causing us all to suffer instead every man doing his best, in which case we all benefit.  When government rules instead of governs, the identity of the nation disappears. The nation only thrives when the people are invested in it of their own free will.  That is patriotism at its best.

Don’t be afraid to be A PATRIOT.

I think I am a hobbit in disguise. I enjoy cozy, treasure my books, don’t mind working second breakfasts and cups of tea into my schedule, and find great joy in flourishing flower gardens. But more than all of that, I have a unique definition of friendship that seems more likely to be realized in Middle Earth than where I come from.

You see, in Middle Earth friends are willing to go on long journeys and experience adventures with you. They won’t hesitate to share their last bite of food or allow your enemy to mistake them for you – even if it means being strapped to an orc’s back for days on end.  In Middle Earth, friends will leave their cozy armchair by the fire and trudge through Mirkwood if it means being there when you need them. In Middle Earth, friendship is more important than being busy. However, in our fast-paced world, being busy is a badge of honor. It indicates that we have lives that matter because there is such a high demand for our time; but there is a price to pay for being busy. It comes at the cost of missing out on life-forged friendships.

My type of friend includes me in her busy and doesn’t use me as her free time filler. My type of friend finds little ways to let me know that she thinks of me throughout her week. It might be a texted “hi!” or tagging me in a picture on Facebook. It could be a little note sent in the mail or a reminder that we need to schedule a visit sometime during the month.  Nothing big; just little things that show me I am a valued part of her life. More importantly, my type of friend lets me know when life’s got her down and seeks out my thoughts, encouragement, and prayers. She inquires about my happenings and isn’t satisfied with an “I’m fine.” She wants to know the details. My type of friend and I know each other’s strengths and weaknesses; we hold each other accountable in our Christian walk and speak honestly when there is need of an attitude or life adjustment.  But to have this kind of friendship, time must be invested and a certain amount of busy must be sacrificed to make it happen.

The problem is that we human beings desire to be the hero in our lives. We crave recognition and praise; we want to be the ones lauded for saving the world. We need to be the center of our show, and we may feel threatened by the thought of cheering on someone other than ourselves. Yet the truth is that sometimes we are in the moment not to save the world but to be the friend of the one who does. There’s an unplanned hero in every friend. Just ask Sam.

It’s raining today. Thunder and lightning too.  When the house trembled from one particularly loud peal, I thought of that terrible day many, many years ago. The day that my Creator died.  The Bible tells us that as Jesus hung on the cross there was darkness over the land for three hours; when He breathed His last the earth shook and rocks were split. The Life-Giver had given His life.

Often on Good Friday my thoughts tend to drift towards what I gained from His sacrifice rather than what He offered. I think of my salvation rather than His death; my joy instead of His sorrow; my peace versus His torment; my reward over His pain. But not this year. This year I am pondering that darkness that consumed His spirit as He toiled through the remaining hours of His life. The shadow of Calvary’s hill loomed over His shredded body as He climbed, bearing my cross upon His back.  It wasn’t simply the weight of the beams upon His back that He was carrying; it was the sin of mankind that would cause His Father’s face to look away in just a matter of moments.  Not only the little white lies that so easily slip from our tongues or the briefest of fits when we don’t get our way, but the Holocaust, the billions of babies slaughtered in the womb, the casual shrug of the shoulder at others’ pain, the unwillingness to take a stand against evil if it means we will be standing alone. These sins covered the sinless Savior, making Him repulsive to the Father from whom He had never been separated.

And so, as iron plunged through flesh and bone, as blood gushed through God in man, reconciliation became tangible, was placed within my frail grasp by a simple, yet humanly impossible, step of faith. With what ease do the words, “believe,” “salvation,” and “faith” leave our lips, but the thorns still tore, the iron still plunged, the spear still pierced.   I am so thankful that in His suffering was my salvation; yet more than that, in His suffering and abandonment Jesus was not forgotten by His Father. As Jesus prayerfully prepared in the Garden of Gethsemane, an angel came and ministered to Him. Within three hours of His crucifixion, He had died.  These details may seem like dismissible facts, but it does comfort me to know that God is just, not cruel.  He required that the price be paid in full, but not with interest. Jesus had to bear the full brunt of God’s holy wrath, but no more than that.  When I face suffering during my walk on this planet, I will choose  to remember the hidden mercies of a loving God who must be equally just. A loving God who says, “This much and no more.”