weeklythoughtexchange

We are living in an era of duality.  Such a description brings to my mind the well-known statement, “It was the best of times and the worst of times,” only I cannot declare this as the best of times.   When lions dominate the headlines more than murdered children and presidents rename mountains while ISIS slaughters thousands, even good times seems to be a naïve description for the time in which we now live.  So why is this an era of duality? Two recent news headlines are fair examples.

A couple of days ago a police officer was denied service by a drive-thru employee at a Florida Arby’s restaurant. Initially the manager said the employee had the right to refuse service but later required the employee to make amends.  This morning Kim Davis, a Kentucky county clerk, was sent to jail for refusing to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples because it violated her conscience.   In both instances, personal conviction led to  denial of service.  So why am I indignant about the former and sympathetic about the latter? In fact, the Arby’s case reminded me of the Christian photographer, florist, and baker who also chose to deny service to someone due to a violation of conscience.  They have  suffered severe consequences for the stance and, I believe, unjustly so.  Is there a difference or is my bias limiting my perspective?

I will not deny that some personal bias has influenced my reaction. However, being a police officer is a noble profession that has long held the respect of the American citizenry.  Police officers place their lives at risk on a daily basis as they strive to maintain law, order, and justice.  Granted, there are those who disgrace their uniform and betray their comrades in blue but does this merit the outright persecution of all police officers that is now sweeping across our land? Civilized nations have always lauded those who are willing to risk their lives when and where the average citizen will not: firefighters, police officers, military members, even those in the medical profession who face contagious disease. There is a difference between these men and women and those who embrace a minority lifestyle with a martyr’s ferocity.

Those who have refused to recognize or approve the legality of same-sex marriages are doing so because to do otherwise would violate the convictions of their religious conscience – an aspect of human individuality that has faithfully been respected and protected in our land…until now.  These people are not expressing hatred of their potential customers.  In fact, the customers who are suing the baker and the florist were “friends” of theirs.  The refusal of service in these particular cases was not prompted by a national vendetta against the individuals involved but as an expression of disagreement with their lifestyle choices infringing upon personal religious conscience.  If there was any cause involved, it may have been that of defending the ever shrinking rights of conscience that are being assaulted by the very movements demanding love, tolerance, equality, and acceptance.

Where is the line in the sand that distinguishes between equality and entitlement, tolerance and acceptance, disagreement and disrespect, administration of justice and unnecessary violence? The line has already been drawn by the Creator of us all.  When we have a proper view of ourselves in the light of our Maker, we will have a proper perspective of our fellow man.  The people who demand respect, equality, and acceptance will not receive it; they may receive lip service and surface accommodations. The qualities they are demanding are ones that can only be earned by showing the same to those around them.   Lawless violence and disrespectful rebellion do not establish causes; it is only through disciplined leadership and grassroots education that effective change can occur, as was proven in the American Revolution.  But above all, it is in our own hearts where true change begins with a recognition that we are mere dust specks in the hand of the Almighty God.  Dust specks that were formed with His word, filled with His breath, and bought with His blood.

I wanted to address this open letter to my fellow Christians, but I almost cringe to use the title ‘Christian’ because it now seems like a synonym for hypocrite.  I would hate to count the number of eye-rolls that accompany the announcement of someone being a Christian.  It seems like these days Americans use the term flippantly or manipulatively. But enough on that subject.  Let me get to what’s really on my mind.

There’s a lot happening in our country these days.  There seems to be an avalanche of rejection descending upon any person or organization associated with the name of Christ while at the same time there is a beckoning door of opportunity for Christ’s name to be glorified in our lives, churches, communities, and country.  I am sure you are all aware of the legal attacks upon the Christian bakers and florists, the fresh line of boycotting of Chik-fil-A from Denver, Hobby Lobby’s fight for the freedom to deny funding for contraceptives, and the Texas pastors who fought a subpoena for their sermons.  There are many more instances similar to these occurring, as a quick scan of ADF’s case load will quickly reveal (www.adflegal.org).   Such circumstances may facilitate one’s belief that our societal atmosphere is more conducive for standing for nothing rather than standing for something. I don’t know about you, though, but reading of these brave believers inspires me to stand a little taller in my faith.

Then we have the Josh Duggar scandals or the maniacs who kill their little ones because Jesus made them do it, or the scam pastors, or the sign-wavers declaring, “Repent or go to hell!” and I want to hide under the nearest rock or at least shout, “That’s NOT an accurate portrayal of Christ!” I get angry and frustrated with people who flaunt the name of Jesus and then proceed to behave in a way that makes a mockery of His holy name.  The world is greedily looking for reasons to hate Him; do we have to serve them more on a silver platter, I wonder?  Such circumstances may make you want to shake your head and declare, “Uh, uh. I am not one of them.” It certainly prompts me to feel that way.

But then we are confronted with the glaring caverns of moral depravity like Planned Parenthood, and I ask myself, “Where are the Christians now?”  You see, our society didn’t simply wake up one day and muse, “Let’s harvest baby parts today.” It was one step down the slippery slope at a time.  We Christians tolerated the removal of prayer from schools; we accepted the ease of divorce; we condoned premarital sex, cohabitation, and out-of-wedlock births; we threw our hands up in helplessness as scandal, crime, and libel permeated our government; we reasoned our way through the legalization of abortion; we tolerated the redefinition of marriage and justified the adoption of children by same-sex couples. And now there is a taxpayer-funded industry of harvesting human infant body parts flourishing in our communities.  Such circumstances urge me to both weep with shame and scream with rage.  How can we pray for God’s mercy and blessing upon us and our nation when we know that such evil is being openly practiced in our land, and we are not doing more to bring an end to it?

Fellow Christ-followers, what are we doing with our time? The Word we claim to love and obey declares that where our treasure is, there will our hearts be also.  The expenditure of our time is a reflection of the priorities within our hearts.  Are we spending intense time studying the Bible and seeking God’s voice on a daily basis?  Are our thoughts layered with meditations upon His nature and His words?  Do we lay our stressors before Him and request His wisdom in handling them appropriately? Do we love what He loves and hate what He hates?  Plunging into a cause, no matter how justified it might be, does not mean we are on fire for God and accomplishing His will. But avoiding action because it is too political is also not a legitimate excuse for cowardice, apathy, or laziness.  Jesus warned us that the world will hate us because it hates Him; He also states that salt that loses its flavor is good for nothing more than to be thrown out into the streets and trampled underfoot.  I don’t know about you, but I can handle being hated because the world sees so much of Christ in me that they can’t stand it.  However, I have no interest in being trampled underfoot because  my witness is nothing more than a joke.

It is time for us stand with our brothers and sisters here and around the world who have counted the cost and are willing to be living sacrifices for our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  They might not be changing government policy or saving the planet, but they are changing the hearts and minds of those around them by being fully surrendered to Jesus. They are not afraid to speak or act as God prompts them to. They know what they believe and it has transformed their lives, even to the point of consuming their lives. That’s what it really means to be a Christian.

All for His service,

WordVessel

This time last year I was anxiously counting down the days until the due date of my first child.  It was a miserable time for me because I was afflicted by nearly every symptom described in the What to Expect When You Are Expecting guide book.  I felt like a balloon with legs and every movement hurt.  It was a journey to get into bed at night and out of it in the morning. Being comfortable was a distant memory of the past.

To make matters worse, my emotions were in an upheaval because I didn’t feel bonded to my unborn child like I thought I should be.  I had read numerous testimonies of expectant mothers immediately adoring their internal residents, recognizing personality traits from movement patterns, and conversing with them throughout the day.  I experienced little of that; I tried.  I wrote letters to my son, enjoyed feeling his occasional movements, and imagined what it would be like to hold him, care for him, and watch him grow.  But my heart wasn’t overflowing with mush and gush.  Honestly, there were many nights when I was in tears because of all of the negative changes happening to my body.  There were times when I resented all that he was putting me through – and then hated myself for feeling that.  I was certain that I signed my own WORST MOM IN THE WORLD certificate by having those thoughts of resentment.

For about three weeks I trudged up and down the hill by our house – about two miles round-trip every evening, desperately hoping that I wouldn’t have to be induced.  My due date came and the doctor said she was sending me in the next day to begin a three-day induction.  I remember my husband calling his mom to let her know the news, and she asked me if I was excited.  “No,” I blurted. “I am not looking forward to the next three days and what I have to go through.”  My concerns were beyond validated.  It was an excruciating three days and I still did not feel connected to my child.  All I could think about was getting through the agony of labor and delivery. In fact, there were times when I just wanted to say, “That’s OK.  I am going to go home now and just hold on to him for another 18 years or so.  No worries.”

And then he was in my arms.  All of a sudden my world was holding me and I was holding our world – the three of us: my amazing warrior husband and the tiny being who is a combination of both of us.  Ever since that birth day I have grown in love for this brand new individual.  I struggled with post-partum depression and frequently doubted myself throughout the first months, but as the hormones settled down and my mind cleared, those doubts gradually dissipated into nonexistence.   I am absolutely crazy about my little boy.  He fills my heart and our home with laughter, silliness, excitement, routine, baby babbles, and countless memories.  Now that he can crawl, he either follows me around the house as I complete my tasks or disappears into various play corners that I set up for him and entertains himself.  Our personalities are a perfect fit; he is so comfortable to have around and I never weary of being his mom.

When I think back on my bloated, aching, sleep-deprived body of a year ago, I can certainly empathize with those moms who are dealing with unexpected pregnancies and are battling the regret, dismay, and despair that goes with such events.  Pregnancy is not something one wants to rush into.  It is the beginning of a lifetime commitment. But when I reflect on the outcome of such an ordeal – an amazing new person who has trusted me implicitly from the moment his heart started beating – I would never think twice about sacrificing my comfort for his existence.  The sacrifice continues day in and day out and will do so for the rest of my life, but isn’t voluntary sacrifice what makes the world a better place for us all?

[Warning: graphic descriptions and images included]

William Wilberforce (1759-1833) was an Englishman who dedicated his life to the abolition of slavery – first in his homeland and eventually throughout the world.  Wilberforce recognized the humanity of the Africans and was appalled that any human being could treat another the way slaves were treated.  Despite death threats, rumors devised to mar his character, and beatings from irate slave ship captains, he persevered in declaring the truth of slavery.   He detailed the gruesome conditions of the captives aboard the slave ships.  Here is an excerpt from Reverend Walsh, a preacher who traveled on ships seeking to intercept slave ships, that describes the slave ship environment of 1829:

The heat of these horrid places was so great and the odor so offensive that it was quite impossible to enter them, even had there been room. They were measured as above when the slaves had left them. The officers insisted that the poor suffering creatures should be admitted on deck to get air and water. This was opposed by the mate of the slaver, who, from a feeling that they deserved it, declared they would murder them all. The officers, however, persisted, and the poor beings were all turned up together. It is impossible to conceive the effect of this eruption – 517 fellow creatures of all ages and sexes, some children, some adults, some old men and women, all in a state of total nudity, scrambling out together to taste the luxury of a little fresh air and water. They came swarming up like bees from the aperture of a hive till the whole deck was crowded to suffocation front stem to stern, so that it was impossible to imagine where they could all have come from or how they could have been stowed away. On looking into the places where they had been crammed, there were found some children next the sides of the ship, in the places most remote from light and air; they were lying nearly in a torpid state after the rest had turned out. The little creatures seemed indifferent as to life or death, and when they were carried on deck, many of them could not stand.  (Read on)

Yet despite the obvious facts of this barbaric practice that had embedded itself into civil society, it was nearly 20 years of persistent determination before slavery was abolished in the United Kingdom.  When Parliament approved the bill in 1807, Wilberforce bowed his head and wept.  After this he began petitioning the governments of other nations on behalf of African slaves to bring an end to this trend of inhumanity.   Why did it take so long for  such an overt evil as slavery to be abolished (though it is still ongoing in various forms throughout the modern world)? Was it because people were not aware of it or the gruesome practices that it involved? No.  William Wilberforce and his supporters made sure that everyone knew the truth of slavery.  It was because too much comfort was at stake for society to make a change.  Money, luxury, and convenience were the motivators behind the slave trade.  People assuaged their conscience by saying that the Africans were really better off in the long run by being brought to the western world; or they consoled themselves with the delusion that the Africans were not human anyways, or at least not fully human, and therefore didn’t truly realize what was happening to them.  These lies were repeated often enough to harden hearts, stop ears, and seal eyes to the not-so-silent wails of desperate human beings being stolen, branded, raped, brutalized, and murdered for hundreds of years.  People knew the truth, but getting involved cost too much.

Looking back we shake our heads in disbelief at such apathy, and in some cases such justification, of a horrific practice.  Slavery, the Holocaust, the Rwandan genocide, and other historical horrors have left scars on the human conscience. We are ashamed that our fellow human beings would commit such crimes against one another, and that those who could make a difference chose to look the other way.  At every museum and memorial, in every book, movie, or documentary, in each history class that is taught, we vow to learn from the past to ensure that history does not repeat itself on our watch.  But are we really keeping our promise?

National Right to Life estimates that since its legalization in 1973 there have been over 56 million abortions performed in America.  According to militaryfactory.com, there have been roughly 1.3 million American war deaths in just over 200 years.   For some of us, numbers can be a bit too vague for comprehension.  We are used to seeing acres of white crosses at Arlington as memorials to those who laid down their lives for our freedom; but have we ever stopped to consider the implications of abortion? It sounds so surgical, so sterile, so accepted.  Here is a little research that I conducted in order to better understand abortion procedures and their results:

A common first trimester abortion procedure is the suction and curettage method. The abortionist begins by dilating the mom’s cervix until it is large enough to allow a cannula to be inserted into her uterus. The cannula is a hollow plastic tube that is connected to a vacuum-type pump by a flexible hose. The abortionist runs the tip of the cannula along the surface of the uterus causing the baby to be dislodged and sucked into the tube – either whole or in pieces. Amniotic fluid and the placenta are likewise suctioned through the tube and, together with the other body parts, end up in a collection jar. Any remaining parts are scraped out of the uterus with a surgical instrument called a curette. Following that, another pass is made through the mom’s uterus with the suction machine to help insure that none of the baby’s body parts have been left behind. The contents of the collection jar are examined to assure that all fetal parts and an adequate amount of tissue commensurate with gestational age are present. (Read on)

A 7-week old victim of the suction curettage procedure.

Second trimester abortion procedures described by Dr. Tony Levatino, M.D.: Imagine for a moment that you are a “pro-choice” obstetrician-gynecologist as I once was. Your patient today is seventeen years old and she is twenty weeks pregnant. At twenty weeks, her uterus is up to her umbilicus and she has been feeling her baby kick for the last two weeks. If you could see her baby, she would be as long as your hand from the top of her head to the bottom of her rump not counting the legs. Your patient is now asleep on an operating room table with her legs in stirrups. Upon entering the room after scrubbing, you dry your hands with a sterile towel and are gowned and gloved by the scrub nurse.

The first task is remove the laminaria that had earlier been placed in the cervix to dilate it sufficiently to allow the procedure you are about to perform. With that accomplished, direct your attention to the surgical instruments arranged on a small table to your right. The first instrument you reach for is a 14-French suction catheter. It is clear plastic and about nine inches long. It has a bore through the center approximately ¾ of an inch in diameter. Picture yourself introducing the catheter through the cervix and instructing the circulating nurse to turn on the suction machine which is connected through clear plastic tubing to the catheter. What you will see is a pale yellow fluid the looks a lot like urine coming through the catheter into a glass bottle on the suction machine. This amniotic fluid surrounded the baby to protect her.

With suction complete, look for your Sopher clamp. This instrument is about thirteen inches long and made of stainless steel. At one end are located jaws about 2 ½ inches long and about ¾ on an inch wide with rows of sharp ridges or teeth. This instrument is for grasping and crushing tissue. When it gets hold of something, it does not let go.

A second trimester D&E abortion is a blind procedure. The baby can be in any orientation or position inside the uterus. Picture yourself reaching in with the Sopher clamp and grasping anything you can. At twenty weeks gestation, the uterus is thin and soft so be careful not to perforate or puncture the walls. Once you have grasped something inside, squeeze on the clamp to set the jaws and pull hard – really hard. You feel something let go and out pops a fully formed leg about 4 to 5 inches long. Reach in again and grasp whatever you can. Set the jaw and pull really hard once again and out pops an arm about the same length. Reach in again and again with that clamp and tear out the spine, intestines, heart and lungs.

The toughest part of a D&E abortion is extracting the baby’s head. The head of a baby that age is about the size of a plum and is now free floating inside the uterine cavity. You can be pretty sure you have hold of it if the Sopher clamp is spread about as far as your fingers will allow. You will know you have it right when you crush down on the clamp and see a pure white gelatinous material issue from the cervix. That was the baby’s brains. You can then extract the skull pieces. If you have a really bad day like I often did, a little face may come out and stare back at you.

A 21-week old victim of the D&E procedure.

The Partial Birth Abortion Procedure

	Guided by ultrasound, the abortionist grabs the baby’s leg with forceps.
	The baby’s leg is pulled out into the birth canal.
	The abortionist delivers the baby’s entire body, except for the head.
	The abortionist jams scissors into the baby’s skull. The scissors are then opened to enlarge the hole…
	The scissors are removed and a suction catheter is inserted. The child’s brains are sucked out, causing the skull to collapse. The dead baby is then removed.

Victim of a third trimester abortion

These disturbing images are justified by “women’s rights,” “a woman’s right to choose what is done with her body,” “what about in the case of rape and incest?”, “these children may end up the victims of poverty, abuse, or violence,” “women will seek abortions anyway so they might as well have it done professionally,” and I am sure there are at least a dozen more excuses given to explain away the heart-wrenching images that are legal in our country. We can now add the harvesting of fetal tissue for the advancement of science to that list.  But when I finish reading the procedural descriptions that are performed on little bodies that feel pain and have every sign of life (beating hearts, moving limbs, nervous systems that respond to stimuli, etc.) and when I see the images of tiny torn bodies, I am left wondering what happened to the humanity of the humans endorsing, condoning, and performing this slaughter.  Am I the only one who hears the silent screams of abortion’s nameless victims?

Watch this video to view the reaction of an 11-week old preborn baby as it seeks to escape the instruments of abortion.

There is a myriad of significant current events happening at such a rapid pace, and I am doing my best to process all of it.  I am trying to find that balance of being aware of current national and international events while also staying focused on caring for the needs of my family.  What burdens me most is the impact of the former on the latter.  Sometimes this causes me to withdraw into my own thoughts as I weigh the gravity of our present times with the implications it will have on the future of my children.  Such pondering can lead to much tossing and turning at night coupled with many a grieving prayer plea to the Almighty God.

With all of that said, I would like  your input on some of the choices being made by the American people and the American government.  Will you help me to understand how we:

-Recycle plastic and discard the remains of our unborn children.

-Have more scientific advancements than ever before and yet can’t prove that brainwaves, beating hearts, and responses to external stimuli are evidence of life.

-Exact fines on those who break a bald eagle’s egg or kill a green sea turtle, demonize those who experiment on animals in laboratories, but fund an organization that facilitates sex-trafficking, incest, pedophilia, and the sale of fetal body parts.

-View saving the planet as a moral duty but saving unborn babies or persecuted Christians as political anathema.

-Sue Christian bakers, florists, and photographers for standing by their convictions while demanding tolerance and acceptance for all beliefs.

-Applaud men for being women and berate a white woman for being black.

-Celebrate marriage equality while decrying polygamy, incest, and marriage to minors.

-Provide legal privileges to illegal immigrants and insurmountable red tape barricades to legal immigrants.

-Shake hands with our sworn enemies and betray our proven allies.

-Place international law over constitutional law, despite the fact that such an action is unconstitutional.

-Fly the flag at half-staff when a pop star dies or shine rainbow lights to celebrate a SCOTUS decision, yet only lower the flag for the victims of domestic terrorism after much public protest.

-Blur the distinction between good and evil, allow our freedoms to be freely taken from us, and forget that it was just a small band of determined citizens that started a great country.

(Warning: This article contains graphic detail)

Imagine this news headline: Over 1.5 million Christians slaughtered by jihadists. Eye witness reports from survivors detail gruesome torture of men, women, and children, but Western lawmakers refuse to declare this a genocide.

What would be your reaction? Mine was one of horror as I was made aware of the Armenian genocide which occurred at two intervals in history: between the years of 1915 and 1916, as well as 20 years prior. Some of the torture involved the nailing of horseshoes to the feet of the Christians; ripping off men’s fingernails and toenails, then pulling off pieces of flesh with red hot pincers, followed by the pouring of boiling butter into the wounds; infants and children impaled on bayonets; pregnant women’s stomachs being ripped open; women and girls being raped and then horrifically crucified (I can’t even bear to write the details of that). Read for yourself and an eyewitness account.  But what caused me even greater revulsion was the sudden juxtaposition of this startling historical truth with our current headlines. With just a moment’s brief skimming, from memory, these were some of the top news stories over the past few weeks and months: Ferguson, MO; a pool party gone wrong in Texas; Bruce Jenner’s sex change; the Duggar scandal; Rachel Dolezal pretends to be black, the SCOTUS ruling considered a great victory for civil and human rights, etc.   These topics, and others like them, are the topics of our Facebook feeds, our Twittering, our grocery check-out browsing.

I want to suggest that our sense of injustice has become skewed by the hyper-politicization of every issue that seems wrong or unfair in this country.  Everything, from the sale of plastic shopping bags to taxing rain to leashing your pet to buckling up while driving to sex ed curriculum in schools to the definition of marriage to abortion, has to have its day in court or at least at the state capital.   Because our news is so narrow and so shallow, the smallest injustice becomes exaggerated.  “But these are real issues!” you might be spluttering. “These things matter! ”  I am not saying otherwise;  I believe we should care for environment, for safety, and for quality education; I believe that we are endowed with certain inalienable rights, that among them are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  I am saying, however, that in order for us to grasp the essence of these certain rights we need to hold them in proper perspective.

Perhaps it would be better to consider the difference between rights and privileges. Our founding documents detail the civil rights that belong to every American, the Bill of Rights consisting of the first 10 amendments to our Constitution, and the human rights that belong to every human being: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  I believe that the debate is generated when we seek to define the pursuit of happiness.  Suddenly, everything that makes an individual happy becomes an inalienable right; yet, when considering the overall well being of our society, we realize that such a classification must be an impossibility.  I will save discussion of the unintended consequences of such a claim for a later blog.  However, we can classify those desires for happiness as civil privileges.  Living in such a rich nation as the United States of America has provided us with the privileges of  healthcare, education, employment opportunities, and much more.  It is true that the access and quality are not equal for all, but there is assistance for those who wish to better themselves and improve their quality of life.  For those with dissenting opinions to my previous statement, consider viewing your arguments in light of the following examples of human rights, or lack thereof:

When we start debating about whether or not our kids should be taught about oral or anal sex in elementary school, perhaps we should consider the great lengths kids go to in developing countries in order to get to school to learn how to read and write. Images of children going to school Let’s ask them about what the pursuit of happiness really means.

When we start to equate gay rights with human rights, perhaps we should remember the Armenian genocide or the brutal rampage of ISIS that is occurring at this very moment. Let’s ask the refugees who have survived the pillaging, the decapitating, the raping, the crucifying, the murder of loved ones before their very eyes about what liberty really means.  Genocide report here and Washington Post article on ISIS here

When we start declaring that denying the right of marriage to homosexuals is a violation of civil rights because everyone has the right to be with someone they love, perhaps we should consider the tiny abortion survivors who are murdered because of their survival. Let’s ask them about what the right to life really means. News story here

Life is complicated and messy; unfortunately, one blog post is not going to clear it all up and provide the answers we are all looking for.  Honestly, I wish I could provide satisfactory answers, at least for myself.  As I cook, clean, walk, or shop, my mind is almost continually wrestling with global, national, and local events.  I want to be the best individual and citizen that I can be;  I want to encourage my fellow citizens and Christians to live fully and honorably; I want to reconcile life with faith.  Sometimes that is easier said than done.  But perhaps one of the best attempts we can make at doing the right thing is by living currently with history’s perspective. Perhaps doing so may prompt us to make our big deals a little smaller and our insignificant ones a little more important.  Perhaps it will make all the difference in the world.

I am coming to terms with the fact that new seasons call for an adjustment in expectations.  I realize now that much of the frustration I battle on a daily basis comes from striving to maintain expectations that I set for myself when I was younger and single.  Now that I am married, have children, and am facing an imminent move in the near future it is time for them to change.  Here are a few of the most significant ones:

*Relational priorities must be rearranged. My relationship concerns used to be all about other people.  Who was my friend? Who wasn’t?  Did I offend that person? Why hasn’t she called me back?  How can I be more likeable? Is that person hurting? Does my coworker need encouragement today? Is it my turn to arrange the next visit?  Now that I have little ones, I realize that I can’t baby adults anymore.  Each person needs to solve their own problems, deal with their own feelings, and cultivate their side of the relationship.  Of course I still want to stay close to friends and family members, but I no longer have the time and energy to do both their part and mine in staying connected.

*Materialism must be minimized.  I like my stuff.  I have invested a great deal of time, effort, and money in collecting and caring for my treasured possessions.  Some of these include a beautiful library of favorite books, a decent collection of music and movies, and much beloved keepsakes and souvenirs from the past.  Nearly two years into marriage and nine months into motherhood, I see that things are not people.  Yes, my home should be clean and comfortable but not obsessively so. When it comes to spending time with my husband on his day off and cleaning – I should choose him.  If there is a choice between letting little hands enjoy a treasured item or saving it in case it might get dirty or damaged – it should be used.  And when it is time to pack up and move to a new home, rather than fear that something might get lost or broken, I need to embrace the adventure and trust God to provide for our daily needs.

*A day’s chores can be accomplishment enough.  My old norm was to pack my daily to-do list with a dozen and one tasks of all genres.  I would write down everything from cleaning and exercising to lesson planning three months in advance to letter-writing and blogging, and maybe throw in time to plan a few Christmas gift ideas too.  It has been a painful process to slash my list down to morning chores, planning dinner, and if I have time, write one letter.  My heart is finally recognizing that every chore can be an act of love and spare moments are not wasted if they are spent being silly to earn baby giggles.  The new demands on my time require much energy and organization, but they are all good and necessary things.  Extra or different does not always mean better; daily and ordinary do not always mean less significant.

I am sure that as the days and weeks roll by, as my family grows in number and size, as the view from my back porch changes, I will continue to see the need for adjusting my expectations.  Through Christ’s patient pruning, molding, and convicting I will be more ready to accept that my expectations are not being lowered, they are just a little different from what I was used to.

I saw this yesterday:

Healthcare for 97 cents.  This is a painfully accurate illustration of our society’s character.  Our quick-fix trends are lacking priorities of substance.  What matters most these days is instant gratification and momentary comfort.  Eating right, exercising consistently, adequate rest, natural remedies that cure the problem rather than merely treat the symptoms require too much time and money.  It is so much easier to pop a cheap pill, feel better, and get on with the demands of the day.  Perhaps the motivations of this type of attitude aren’t all bad – people don’t want to shirk their responsibilities or they feel like they are putting others before themselves. Maybe resting until the illness passes seems like the easy way out while pushing through the symptoms seem more noble.  Or maybe people like the attention that comes from others saying, “You need to take care of yourself. Go home and rest!”  Whatever the reasons may be, the consequences will still be the same.  In the end, your body will suffer from the side effects of neglect and synthetic medications.

There is a spiritual lesson in this for all of us – Christian or not.  Our identities are just as much spirit as they are body and mind.  In the busyness of the day, it is easy to ignore the fact that one day we will die, and our souls are going to spend eternity somewhere.  The Bible makes it clear that heaven is only a guarantee for those who have committed their lives in repentance to Jesus Christ. As black and white as this is, we still try to find ways of assuaging that spiritual tug on our conscience without committing to a genuine relationship with Jesus.  Let’s face it: it’s a lot easier to attend church now and then or watch an entertaining TV preacher or maybe even read a verse calendar each morning than to dedicate a life-long surrender of our entire being to obedience to the Almighty God.  This means that our hopes, dreams, interests, desires, and time are no longer our own but His.  This disciplining of Self requires time and effort to accept and cultivate. However, in the end, when we hear the words, “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” our soul will reap the benefits of a life that belongs to Jesus.

So the next time you get a cold or feel that tug on your conscience to read your Bible what are you going to reach for?

The outdoors created my favorite setting for a morning meander today.  My entire being sought to absorb the freshly scrubbed atmosphere from yesterday’s wind and rain. The trees dressed in multi-colored leaves that had deliciously littered the ground with their castoff leaves, flowers, and twigs. The river was rushing noisily down it’s course, splashing the rocky crags that keep it within it’s designated path. The sunlight danced off of every surface it could touch, making the colors of the blue sky, moss-covered stones and tree trunks, and dainty leaves even more vibrant. The birds rejoiced in the new day.  My 8-month old companion felt compelled to comment on the day’s freshness with brilliant baby babbles while our faithful canine was in no mood to rush through her daily scent checks.  On a morning like this it is easy to forget that we live in uncertain times.

My readership does not need to be reminded that this world is not as peaceful as a morning meander down a river walk.  There are threats of a barbarian army invading southern Europe, terrorist sleeper cells within our very own borders, uncertain weather changes, aging loved ones – both animal and human, overly processed food that seems almost impossible to avoid, super bacteria that appear to be untreatable, rising costs for daily living necessities, a government that is placing its own interests above the good of the country…need I continue? If I let my mind wander too far, my emotions will go into a tailspin and crash.  How can I possibly leave this world alive? How much more chaos can this little universe handle? That’s just it – there is going to be an end to everything as we know it. While our souls are eternal and will live forever somewhere, our physical bodies are going to die sometime; this present world is not going to continue.  We just don’t know how or when.  There is Someone who does and our peace lies in the relationship that we can have with Him.

My husband and I like to laugh about how our little boy rests in our arms when we carry him.  His body perches either on my hip or on my husband’s arm, his wondering eyes are consuming everything he sees, his arms are up, and his tiny hands are curled into fists.  He never grips onto us because we have never dropped him.  It hasn’t crossed his mind that he should hold on.  We carry him up and down three flights of stairs; I have even tripped once or twice.  My mind races ahead to consider all of the possible perils that we could encounter while I am holding him. His doesn’t.  He just trusts that whoever is holding him has got it covered and he can perch peacefully while taking in the amazing world around him.  The parallel is obvious.  Yes, this world is perilous. Yes, this physical journey does have an end and it might not be pleasant.  Yes, I am going to encounter moments that I would rather avoid.  But my Savior has it covered.  His mind has traversed the future and He will guide me through it.  He promises to not lose me.  My soul is safe in His hands and He will bring me to heaven one day.  I can walk with Him, rest in Him, take in the amazing world around me and not have to hold on. He didn’t drop the Cross; He won’t drop me.