The Resolution I Kept: Year Two

Admittedly, this is a rather ho-hum post. Confirmed as such by my first editor who only tells me the truth about everything I write. His bold and witty truth-telling has saved you from reading some stupid, boring, wordy stuff. And he may not approve of this snoozey post.

But I’m politely ignoring him.

Because of my poor history of keeping New Year’s resolutions I’ve pretty much stopped making any. Except this one: Keep track of books I read.

And when a resolution is kept at all, not to mention for two consecutive years, I think it deserves at least an electronic commemoration in the blogosphere.

So, without further ado, in the order I read them, I present... 

 

Books I Read in 2014

Son of Laughter, Fredrick Beuchner (A strange read for me. Life in the Old Testament was not neat and tidy.)

Die Empty, Todd Henry (Awesome title. Kind of self-help-y, but many ideas for making the most of your life and time.)

Desiring God, John Piper (Not an easy read for me, but an awesome paradigm shift for Christians! So glad I read it.)

Pain, Perplexity and Promotion: A prophetic look at the book ofJob, Bob Sorge (Recommended by my brother, the author draws principles on suffering from the book of Job.)

Beautiful Outlaw, John Eldredge (A bit outside the box, but I really enjoyed his perspective on Jesus.)

Unbroken, Lauren Hillenbrand (BEST BOOK EVER. This is the true story of Olympic runner and WWII POW Louis Zamperini. I could not put it down!! Regarding the movie: I was anxiously awaiting the movie knowing there was NO WAY they could fit the entirety of Louis’s life into two hours. I liked the movie, but it was a "skeleton" presentation of the events. What else could it be? Highlights basically. So 47 days at sea doesn't seem so bad in the movie. And "The Bird" is a violent jerk in the movie, but they do not (and probably cannot in order to appeal to a PG audience) portray his vile, evil, nastiness. Some folks were offended they ended the movie after he returned from war and didn't include his conversion at a Billy Graham crusade. But there was NO WAY his post-war life could have been portrayed well by tacking it on to the end of the movie. It deserves its own movie! The Billy Graham has done just that. Click here to see.)

Seabiscuit (abridged), Lauren Hillenbrand (Had to read more of her work after Unbroken. A well written, interesting, true story, but it couldn’t compare with Unbroken.)

The Old Man and the Sea, Earnest Hemmingway (Read this because I thought I should read a “classic.” Though it feels heretical to say, I did not enjoy it. At all.)

The Greatest Salesman in the World, Og Mandino (Beautifully written tale with much “biblical” advice without being overtly preachy.)

I Need Some Help Here: Hope for When Your Kids Don’t Go According to Plan, by Kathi Lipp (I contributed a small story to this book and enjoyed reading the finished product and blogged about it.)

The Cure for the Perfect Life, Kathi Lipp and Cheri Gregory (Contributed a small story to this book as well and enjoyed observing the “birth” of a book. I blogged about it as well.)

The Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning (Read this after watching the movie Ragamuffin. I loved the movie about the life and work of Rich Mullins and the book offers much food for thought regarding God’s fierce love.)

Intense Moments with the Savior, Ken Gire (I love everything I’ve read from Ken Gire. This was one in a series where the author retells the Bible stories where Jesus had some intense moments.)

Pearls in the Sand, Tessa Afshar (Fictional account of the biblical Rahab. So-so.)

To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee (Why did I wait so long to read this stellar work?)

In Pursuit, Zeke Pipher (A devotional for sportsmen that I read to my boys. Even though I am not in the “target audience” (ie. sportsmen) I do know a few!)

Touching Wonder, John Blase (Poetic, fictional reflections on the Christmas story. Sixteen beautifully written vignettes. A neat book to read annually during Advent.)

Gods and Kings, Lynn Austin (A fictionalization of the Biblical account of Israel’s surly kings. I liked it and hope the read the next in the series.)

In His Image, Dr. Paul Brand and Phillip Yancey (Amazing insights and allegory between the human body and the body of Christ. I love this book! To be honest, I’m only about half way through, but I thought it deserved a place on the list.)

Do you have any recommendations for me for 2015?

 

Light Shines Through

Earlier this year I blogged about a quote that resonated with me:

“The World Does Not Know Her Name”

And I think it resonated with many of you because of the blessed dichotomy it represents: We can be broken and useful. Uncelebrated and influential.

There is great relief in knowing “broken” and “useful” are not contrary terms when it comes to you and me. We are comforted knowing that anonymity does not preclude influence.

Think of Mary. A teenage wallflower from a dot-on-the-map town.

The world did not know her name.

When Gabriel proclaimed the work God had prepared for her, she was greatly troubled. No one knew better than Mary that she wasn’t influential or celebrated.

She wasn’t even married.

But she was available. “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.”

Perhaps your circumstances seem flawed. Your heart broken. Your faith fractured.

These are not obstacles for God. They are opportunities for Him to accomplish His work through you. God delights in shining the Light of Christ through the cracks of broken, willing vessels.

Even you and me.

Today I have the privilege of blogging at (in)courage.me. I've written a little piece about how God's Light Shines Through. Click here to join me over there!

Almost There

Two of the most hopeful words in the English language:

“Almost there.”

Perhaps it was my affinity for imagining the human details of the Christmas story.

Perhaps it was my partiality for rich lyrics.

Or perhaps it was the nostalgic voices from the soundtrack of my teenage years.

But when I heard this new Christmas song, I was riveted.

Take a listen.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ClYL3pKCwI

 

 

Mary, full of innocence, Carrying the Holy prince,

You're almost there, you're almost there

Mother of the Living Word, Trusting in the voice you heard

You're almost there, you're almost there

You're almost where the angels see, Redemption's plan unfolding

All hope is in the Son you'll bear,

You're almost there,

A lonely road, a willing heart,

Pray for strength to do your part,

You're almost there, you're almost there,

Trust the Father to provide, Bread of heaven prophesied,

You're almost there, you're almost there,

You're almost where the waiting ends, Delivering the life within,

The answered prayer, Emmanuel,

You're almost there,

You're almost where the journey ends, Where death will die and life begins,

The answered prayer, Emmanuel,

You're almost, almost there.

 

I wonder how many times similar words were whispered…

…to Mary as they neared Bethlehem.

…in the hearts of God’s people who remembered He promised a Delivering King.

…to Simeon as he waited for the Consolation of Israel.

…to Anna as her fragile frame hobbled through the crowd toward a sparse celebration.
 

“You’re almost where the waiting ends, where death will die and life begins.”
 

Such words put a lump in my throat and catch in my breath.

·        Suffering through prolonged seasons of isolation.

·        Restoring difficult relationships.

·        Toiling over a labor of love.

·        Recovering from illness.

·        Waiting to hear.

·        Delivering a baby.
 

You’re almost there!

 

The difficulty is in the ambiguity. “How much longer?" we demand.

But the blurry timeline is also the blessing. If we knew exactly how much longer, we may throw our hands in the air and buckle under the weight of despair.

Our hope is not in a clear timeline. Instead, our hope is walking with God through difficulty knowing He has the timeline in sharp focus. He knows exactly how much longer, and for reasons beyond our understanding, He’s planned it on purpose.

He’s whispering, “Take my hand. You’re almost there.”

 

How do these words comfort you?

 

 

Bingo Tumbler Brain

Lately I’ve had a bad case of Bingo Tumbler Brain.

Photo by bridges&balloons

There are all these times, locations, obligations, privileges, people, places, and don’t-forget-tos tumbling around in the bingo cage atop my shoulders.

I’ve tried to write them all down on my calendar. I’ve locked them in my phone’s calendar app and tagged most of them with reminders. I’ve stuck post-it notes to my phone, purse, and steering wheel.

I’ve even been confronted by the boys for writing on my hands.

And yet, with all those heroic attempts at punctual organization, time keeps cranking the tumbler and the information goes round and round, mixing at random. The harder I focus on that one thing tumbling round and round-the more I try not to forget it-the dizzier I become.

Case in point: October 15 was National Take Your Parent to Lunch Day, and it was heavily promoted at our school. The ironic thing is that it’s all up to the parent to make it happen. As with much of parenting, you could call it a gift of grace: It costs the parent time, money, and maybe a little headache. It costs the little recipient nothing, and he delightfully receives it without apology.

The 15^th also happens to be Levi’s special day. On the 15^th of every month we try to do something together. Just Levi and me. Nothing fancy. Maybe a bike ride or a trip to the donut shop. So when National Take Your Parent to Lunch Day landed on his special day, Levi said, “Mom! This will work out perfectly!”

Indeed.

And in my ever-efficient, not so nurturing, bingo tumbler brain, I was thinking, Two birds with one stone. Check and check!

I wrote it on my calendar, put it in my phone with a 10:30 a.m. reminder to get to Subway before the rest of the parents, because I didn’t want to be bringing a Subway bag into the lunch room when the kids are lining up to leave. And as Levi hopped out of the car that morning, I rolled down the window and hollered cheerfully for Levi, Spencer and all the playground children to hear, “Don’t forget to say ‘sack lunch’ since I’m bringing Subway!”

I drove home to bust a few of those “don’t-forget-tos” out of the bingo cage.

ü  Don’t forget to call the exterminator.

ü  Don’t forget to buy ingredients for Zach’s Egyptian dessert...Friday…5^th period…

ü  Don’t forget to return the movie you rented but never watched.

ü  Don’t forget to put the clothes in the dryer.

Check. Check. Check. And…whoops. Lots of clothes in the dryer and several baskets to fold. See what happened there? I forgot.

I drug four laundry baskets to the TV, popped in that movie so I wouldn’t waste the $3.70 I paid to rent it, and started folding.

And let me tell you, it was a good movie! In fact I gladly recommend The Book Thief. A friend said she liked the movie better than the book, and that is basically unheard of, so I thought it was probably worth my 90 minutes.

It has all the tragedy that comes with a WWII setting, but with a jewel of a story. And it’s a little longer than your average feature film, which I didn’t realize. 135 minutes to be exact. But I was fully engaged, and the bingo tumbler had come to a full stop.

So I was a teensy bit annoyed when my phone went, “Ding!”

I reached to read my text and almost fainted.

“Levi is in the lunchroom. Are you on your way?”

It was 11:47 a.m.

No shower.

No Subway.

I texted back: “Have him get school lunch. Be there in 15.”

Oh yeah… “If you see Spencer tell him to get a school lunch too.”

I broke into a sweat and started crying. Some demon in my head started laughing and chanting Loser! Loser! Disgusting Loser!

I grabbed my last best accessory, my hat, and jumped in the car. For 15 minutes I tried to pull it together. It’s just lunch. It happens to everyone. Levi doesn’t mind school spaghetti. But that same chanting demon was screaming louder, You cannot be trusted with the simplest task!

I ran to the door closest to the lunchroom in hopes of catching Levi before he left the lunch room. It was locked. I knocked on the outside door and a friend who recognized me, even in my panicked state (or was it because of that?) opened the door. I bumbled through my explanation, and she dug two fun-size candy bars out of her lunch bag and said, “Give them these.”

People, that is a gracious friend. When I’m is banging on the school door in a panic, look like a train wreck, and have fouled up a relatively easy task of motherhood, this friend let me in the school, and gave me a gift for my kiddos.

I found Levi in his classroom, called him into the hallway, began to apologize, and started getting weepy again. Which made him tear up. Which he blamed on being poked in the eye earlier and by golly, his eyes keep watering.

I pressed the little candy bar into his hand. He smiled, tore it open, and in two bites it was gone.

He went back to class.

I sat in the lunchroom by Spencer who did NOT enjoy the school’s spaghetti, and then I gave him the other candy bar.

I left the school, but I couldn’t let it go.

The bingo tumbler had started back up, and I kept reaching into my brain to retrieve the right time and location of the next thing I didn’t want to forget.

I felt a migraine coming on.

When I picked them up that afternoon I said again, “Guys, I’m just so sorry about forgetting today.”

Levi said, “Why are you so…” but he didn’t know how to finish.

In my head, that crazy demon finished the sentence with several ugly adjectives, but Spencer rescued us all by saying, “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

And I was reminded again that I have not yet surrendered the full space of the bingo tumbler to a mindset of grace, the message of the gospel.

Honestly, I want my boys to be a little mad at me. That’s what I’ve earned. I want to pay my friend back ten-fold in fun size-candy bars because that’s what she deserves. And I am struck again by the fact that I am a slave to this world’s economy of “ungrace” as Phillip Yancey has called it. An economy of earning. You get what you pay for. You’re paid for what you’ve earned.

But accepting grace, whether from God or from others, feels terribly unnatural. We’re accustomed to earning.

Unless you recognize how badly you’ve screwed up and that you’re your screw-ups can’t be undone.

That’s when you realize grateful acceptance is your only option.

So when your friend gives you fun-size candy bars, you just shove them in your pocket.

And when your son says, “It’s no big deal,” you just say, “Thanks.”

And when I take hold of grace that’s been offered to me, I’m far more likely to offer it to others.

So Grown Up, Yet Still Growing

It seems summer has almost disappeared (way too early!), and the plight of both Narnia and Arendelle await us…always winter, eternally frozen. Or so it will seem by January.

But the seasons aren’t the only things coming and going.

Around here, we’re racing past some monumental milestones. We’ve endured the long haul from diapers to deodorant. But wasn’t it just last month I had a pile of baby blue laundry—sleepers smelling of spit-up and a hundred tiny mismatched socks? This month, the baby blue load has been replaced with a load of blaze orange and camo in all sizes.

Just about the time I wish for time to slow down, I’m reminded it’s passing at the usual pace.

One minute at a time.

For example, my oldest passed me up in height this year. I’m now the third tallest in our family, soon to be the last, I suppose. He’s made a graceful start to middle school and shows inklings of maturity more often than he used to.

He’s so grown up! I thought as I drove him to a middle school activity.

“Mom, watch,” he said, interrupting my nostalgia.

I took my eyes off the road to witness him blowing big spit-bubbles and smiling proudly as they popped and splattered on his lips.

“Gross.”

And he smiled as if he’d accomplished his goal.

Not too grown up yet, I guess.

After just three days of school, we contracted a variety of germs which landed us in the doctor’s office this week. A new policy requires the nurses to ask each patient whether they’ve experienced abuse or neglect.

I understand why, but it saddened me that the question had to be asked and that it brought up issues kids shouldn’t have to be concerned about. Well, they’re growing up. I told myself. They need to be aware of these things.

The nurse left the room and my middle son said, “I don’t even know what abuse and neglect are, so I just said no.”

Never missing a chance to point out he knows something his brothers don’t, my youngest said, “You don’t even know what abuse is?!...It’s when you’re really overweight.”

“Um, that’s obese,” I corrected and realized again we’re not quite as grown up as I thought.

It seems we’re in a delightful and funny stage of life. Getting all grown up but still growing.

·        Learning to clean fish with an electric knife, then dissecting every internal organ to see what’s inside.

·        Popping a wheelie, yet still needing TLC after a crash.

·        Outfitted with all the football gear, yet unable to get it all on by themselves.

Grown up, but still growing.

I guess it’s really not a stage at all. It’s a perpetual state.

For Kurt and me, one of us has just crested the Big Black Hill, and the other has the summit in sight. But the fact that it’s called “mid-life” indicates there’s the possibility to live another lifetime.

I guess we’re supposed to be grown up, but we’re still growing too. And we’re looking forward to the next milestones as they pass by.

One minute at a time.

The World Does Not Know Her Name

An interviewer once asked Edith Schaeffer, “Who is the most influential Christian woman in America?”

Her options were varied but her answer was provocative:

 

“The world does not know her name.”*

I’ve been mulling over her answer for the better part of this year. Is it possible that the most influential women are unknown and unnamed?



Photo by Frank Comisar
http://scenicaperture.com/

I’ve visited several small churches throughout the Midwest this summer, and each time I leave thinking about the women who have served there. Behind the scenes, doing menial tasks that few notice. Women who meet a need before they’re asked and desperately hope no one embarrasses them by noticing. Women whose service is truly for the Lord.

There is a woman who, despite her crippled leg, raised two grandchildren. One of her greatest joys is taking a meal to anyone in need. Anyone sick, injured, grieving, or just plain busy. She doesn’t do it because she’s afraid of what you’ll think if she doesn’t. No. She gives and gives and gives because a long time ago she was grieving, she was injured, she was busy. She gives out of the memory of her greatest need.

And the world does not know her name.

A woman rocks a fussy baby in the nursery. It’s not her baby, nor her grandbaby. She’s just loving a young mom by loving her child. She wipes congealed breast milk off her shoulder with a paper towel because the burp rag is soaked and sour. But she goes right on patting and consoling so a young mom can have 20 minutes to worship. She will be back next week and next month and next year, because when she was a young single mom she needed just a small window of undistracted time to worship the God who sustained her.

And the world does not know her name.

There is a woman who married a jerk. A “Christian” jerk. The kind who make physical loneliness seem like paradise. The woman has overlooked a thousand wrongs, turned the other cheek, and turned her eyes upon Jesus. She is a trail blazer for her small circle of young friends who find themselves gasping in the thin air of unmet expectations. She stretches an oxygen mask over her young friend’s face as she spirals down into the jungle of disappointment. Then she drags her from the wreckage and urges her on toward Christ—who makes beautiful things out of wreckage and disciples out of jerks.

And the world does not know her name.

Three unlikely examples of faith. None has a laudable accomplishment that would land their name on a list of “influential Christian women.”

And yet, that is exactly who they are. Influencing others, one meal, one hug, one tissue at a time.

They are the salty salt, almost invisible, but sprinkled among us, flavoring life, preserving hope and whetting our appetite for Christ.

They are broken vessels whose fractured lives allow the light of Christ to shine through.  Jesus has set these women on a lampstand called influence and they give light to everyone around them.

They exemplify the poor widow Jesus pointed out, who gave out of her poverty rather than out of her abundance.

He notices.

The world may not know their names, but Jesus does. 

And he’s given them influence so that the world might know His.

 

 

 

*I've googled until my eyes are googley and cannot find the original source of this quotation. I heard a radio show guest quote this interview this spring on Moody Radio.