Scorn

Michal, David's wife was a princess. She was the daughter of a king and the wife of the next in line. She was raised in the palace. She also became a prize, a symbol of a victory won. Not because she was such an amazing person, beautiful in mind and demeanor, but because she was a king's daughter. David won her and yet she loved him. She helped him escape from her father's murderous intents. But when David escaped, she was left behind. She was given to another man to be his wife. Passed around by her father to get revenge on David and prove a point. Later, when Saul was killed and David established as king, he sent for her and took her back from her husband. The Bible says that her husband followed behind her the whole trip back to the palace crying the whole way. He was forced to go back home. There is no happy reunion recorded, only the story we all remember. David bringing back the Ark of the Covenant and dancing with wild abandon. Michal looks down at this scene and it says her heart was filled with scorn for her husband. She meets him at the front door and greets him with some cutting remarks about his performance. David reminds her that her father was removed from kingship and the honor bestowed on him. Then the Bible concludes this story with the statement that Michal never had children.
I know I took some liberty in my paraphrase but I wanted to shed some light on things. At first glance this story seems so cut and dry. David was worshipping and Michal made fun. There relationship never recovered, maybe there never was a relationship. Either way, she had once been his loving wife and she never received the joy of giving him a child. Sometimes the Bible seems harsh with the stories of women. They seem to be pawns and trophies, overlooked and used. Sometimes we only get a glimpse of the wrong they did. Sarah laughed, Rebecca deceived, Rachel envied. There are good ones too, but my question is what went wrong? If my story were in the Bible, what parts would be highlighted and studied. My failures or my victories? Which do I seem to give more to?
Michal may not have been loved by David, she may have felt used and discarded, but the bottom line was that she was the king's wife. Her husband had his flaws but he was crazy about his God. Had she allowed bitterness to grow in her heart and finally overflow into her relationship with both God and David? We will never know but like all good stories we can learn our lesson. He was right to be dancing, he had persevered, he had been victorious. She hadn't known the Cave of Abdullam, living on the run. She had remained in the city living the palace life with daddy. She must have let the pain grow in her heart unchecked for it to overflow so freely.
How I understand...I have to be ever so careful not to harbor ill will and even then sometimes I realize its still there. My heart can fill with scorn too and it must be emptied out. Not on my husband as he comes home from dancing the presence of the Lord back to the city, but by giving it to God. I'm not really good at it yet.

Giving Gifts and Really Letting Them Go

Gifts. They are so fun to give, yet so hard to let go. You're probably thinking I'm a begrudging kind of giver, but I really love to make people happy by giving them what they want, need, ask for, what have you. However, sometimes it comes back to bite me that I didn't really release that gift. I mean have you ever gone over to someone's house and felt a little sad when you accidentally came across a gift you gave tossed aside in the garage or the closet or (gasp) regifted to someone else? It hurts, and even makes me a little bit angry.

Yesterday this smacked me right in the face. Joshua and I gave Rebecca her class ring on Monday night. We scrounged together the money to pay for it and paid it over time, but it was important to us and very special. Tuesday night she came home frantically looking around the house for her ring, apparently she might have left it on the sink at school !?! What? All my loving tendernesses and sentimentality seemed to have been left there on the grungy high school bathroom sink. What was she thinking to take her ring off at school and how could she have walked off and left it? Didn't she care about the work that went into my precious gift to her?

As I was rehashing all of that in my mind, the thought comes, how do I treat God's gifts to me? Does He hurt when I put them away, lose them, say they're not good enough or not what I wanted or needed? Just like Becca didn't mean to hurt me and daddy by losing her ring, I don't mean to hurt God, in fact, I don't even think about Him when I despise my gifts. Sheesh, heavy revvy right there. Solemnly, I surrendered. God, I'm sooooo sorry, I'll look harder, get them out of the junk drawer, stop hating what you have so graciously given to me.

What was really cool was that Josh was moved too. He had lost a physical gift and had looked for it at least three times in the same place. Well, how about he looked for it one last time in the same place and there it was as plain as day. We thought that was really cool. I mean, maybe it was hiding for him until he really appreciated it?

Anyway, for those of you that are concerned Rebecca went into school today and without much hope in her heart asked if anybody found her ring and turned it in. Guess what? It was in the bathroom and somebody actually turned it in to lost and found! That like never happens in high school...So moral of the story is...hold the gifts you've been given tightly, release those you give away.

I Just Wanna Be Different

It never ceases to amaze me that even when I'm reading books with my students because I have to, not by my own choice, that I still get amazing and thought provoking revelations. The fourth grade is smack dab in the middle of reading, From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. I started the book and was grabbed immediately in the first chapter when the older sister is devising her plan to run away to the Metropolitan Museum in New York. She says that she's tired of being straight A's Claudia Kincaid, the sameness of everyday, the injustice of her boring life of doing dishes. Sheesh, I broke into tears. Here is a fictional character in a kid's book making me weepy because she put into words how I have always felt for as long as I could remember. Later on in the book, she doesn't want to go home yet because she longs to be different. How I relate with Claudia. Different is distinct, its unlike the others. Its what I want to be. Not in a creepy, Goth, nobody understands me kind of way. Not even in a way anyone else can see, just on the inside. Straight A's may come easy for me, doing the dishes is something anybody with two hands and a sink can do. When I think about it I push the limits here. I just want to be different...

The Perfection Trap

So between some inner soul searching, a book I just finished reading and some really good conversation with some other girls yesterday I have come to this conclusion: window shopping leads to dissatisfaction. I don't even have to leave my house, I can sit in the comfort of my own home and compare my house with my neighbor's. There are enough pinterest boards to make me green with envy. If I am worried about ruining my child forever if I don't make my own whole wheat bread or homemade playdough I can find a parenting blog to back up my notions. This comparison driven lifestyle isn't restricted to keeping up with the Jones's anymore. I can drive myself crazy following after the newest fad in whatever. Bangs or no bangs, what is Kate Middleton wearing? What can I do with those leftover peanut butter jars that will contribute to society? Contentment can only be found be keeping my eyes on the task at hand and the ministry that God has given me. I may never be a gourmet cook or a top blogger or the most svelte and spiritual pastor's wife around. Am I doing the best with the materials that He has given me? Stop beating yourself up over what you don't have and make the most with what you do.

1 Timothy 6: 6-8 A devout life does bring wealth, but it's the rich simplicity of being yourself before God. Since we entered the world penniless and will leave it penniless, if we have bread on the table and shoes on our feet, that's enough.

Redemption Comes to Fayetteville

Yesterday, almost 6000 Fayetteville Christians marched through our downtown streets proclaiming God's blessings on our city. Several years ago my husband had a dream where he saw thousands of people crowding Hay Street in front of the Market House hands raised to God and the words, "Redemption Comes to Fayetteville" were suspended above the scene. He had lunch with a then youth pastor friend of his who shared the exact same dream. A few months ago the organizer of the Fayetteville God Belongs in Our City campaign approached both of these guys and their only response when asked if they wanted to join the movement was oh yeah!. I've shared before about my love for downtown even before it was pleasant and safe like it is today. As I was pushing my two youngest in their stroller yesterday I was transported to a time almost 18 years ago when I was marching down the hill to downtown at a March For Jesus with my now 19 year old son being the stroller occupant. Many marches, many prayers, many dreams later and the fruit was evident. Thousands came out, not to represent their churches, or denominations or prayer style, but to simply come together united as the Body of Christ in Fayetteville, North Carolina. Together as one body, we repented, we consecrated, we blessed. Redemption is the repurchase of something, it is atonement for guilt, it is deliverance from sin. Joshua saw his dream come to pass yesterday as he stood on the steps of the Market House and looked out at the streets flooded with believers and asked for the redemption of our city. Heal our land God!

Microwave Faith

Josh preached one of his best sermons yet on our 17th anniversary, two weeks ago. It was a special day beyond that, because it was his first sermon since coming back to Cliffdale. Nervous? Yeah! I love watching God use my husband and secretly enjoying that he is where he is because I am where I am. Confused yet? God allowed me to be this man's helpmate and though I haven't always felt up to the task or like I was doing a very good job, its mine nonetheless. He is where he is, fulfilling God's call on his life, because I am where I am fulfilling God's call on my own life. Josh preached on standing our ground when troubles come or running away in fear. That's a common dilemma in every aspect of life. Things aren't turning out the way I hoped or thought they would...oh well, I'll just give up, leave, turn my back, cower. Marriage is hard, being a Christian is hard, motherhood is really hard! Jesus never promised us an easy life. Anything worth having is worth the work. Microwave dinners range in quality from nasty to ok I'll eat this because I have no other choice. Steak, asparagus tips and baked potatoes take some time and skill. Quick solutions don't shape our character. We don't look up to people who stay married for 5 years and give up, we look to those who stick together for 35 years and more. That's perseverance. Trusting that God will bring you through the wilderness, the valley, or the troubled waters is real faith.

That Awkward Moment When...

a ginormous wave is towering over your head and you have to decide if you're going to try to swim for it or dive into it. Either way you're gonna get slammed. Its happened to all of us who venture into the water. Your top gets ripped off, or you end up staggering out of the shallows with a wedgie and a mouth full of sand. But the thrill to waltz with the monster beyond your control is breathtaking. The power it wields to hold you under the water and spin you like a washing machine tub. The beauty of the ocean can only be experienced first hand. I love the water and the salt and the sand. I hate not being able to touch the bottom. I want the power to feel with my big toes just how far I can go out without losing control. You can play that game in a pool, avoiding big brothers and husbands who want to dunk you until you cry. But in the sea, all bets are off. Riptides and currents and jellyfish.

God is a lot like the ocean. Wade out to a comfortable depth, ride the waves, do frequent toe-depth checks and then He pulls you further, further, further. But God I can't feel the bottom anymore...exactly.

Cannonball!

I did the unspeakable yesterday and walked my kids up to the neighborhood park. Its pretty far on foot, farther than I realized, so I had plenty of time to think about stuff. Taylor came along with me riding her bike and Zi and Mars were in the double stroller. Now somehow since we came off of the mission field our family has expanded and I don't me in family members but in the size of each of our members, do you get my drift??? We work hard for God and come home and eat pasta late at night and don't have time to play outside and run around the yard and stuff. Anyway, we are working on that. So back to the walk. Taylor knows how to ride a bike, but our neighborhood is really hilly and she's not really confident. She will come to a hill and walk her bike down it slowly. I asked her why and she told me she's scared of losing control and a car coming around a corner and hitting her or something. My heart cringed. I flashed back to my own childhood when my sister and I would sneak off to ride our bike down the biggest hill in the neighborhood. It was so steep you had to walk your bike up and burn you brakes on the way down. We would wear ourselves out climbing up and streaking down with our long hair streaming wildly behind us. My mom hated it and would tell us of all the things that could go wrong and we didn't care. It was fun! Or how about jumping into the pool first thing in the morning, I mean as soon as you woke up and the water being so cold you just knew the only way you could get your body in there was to jump in. Run jump cannonball, ice cold water enveloping your whole being and it was breathtaking! What had I done to my child in raising her to think of all the contingencies? I want them to be smart and cautious but not afraid.

Jump ahead to the park that we finally arrived at and I'm brooding over this entire parenting dilemma and how I've ruined my child forever through my poor life coaching skills. But then I catch Emari pushing some kid out of her way on the slide and she's jumping off the dangerous parts of the equipment and screaming in delight and a big kid runs into and sends her sprawling in the dirt and she gets up, shakes the wood chips out of her hair and keeps going. I'm worried for an instant that she might get hurt or some parent will get upset with her and I realize that my heart has reached an equilibrium. Two children, same parents, same environment, different responses.

We are going to work on both of the extremes here in our house of course, but applying this concept to my own life I realize I need to find my own equilibrium. Considerate but not overly cautious to the point of not doing anything at all. I read somewhere recently that a clenched fist can hold onto what it has but not receive anything else. So simple but true.

Why I Hate Toy Story 3

NO, no I'm not a boycotter of all things Pixar or Disney or make believe or what have you. I hate the movie not for its content or message but for the power it has over me. Now to be truthful I haven't actually sat through the entire movie. That's because I can't. It makes me cry and you know how I feel about crying in front of people aka my children. They'll think I'm a wuss or something. But really Toy Story 1 and 2 are wonderful movies, but not the dreaded 3! I can't even stand to hear it. Just today I walked through the living room where one of my children had it paused and even in stilled form I felt it begin.

Let's clarify here okay. Andy is Tony to me. They played together, packed up their toys together, and dagum went ahead and grew up on me. Just writing about it drives me to tears. Will this torture never end? The bittersweet torment of a mother who grew a man and now has to let him go. He's not quite gone yet and I won't bore you with the intricacies of my love for him and all he represents to me, just know that I mourn his wonderful metamorphosis quietly so as to not embarrass or alarm him. But dang I hate Toy Story 3.

In-Laws

If you haven't already noticed through reading my blog or by knowing me personally, my family is a fruitful one. Not just me and my husband, but the in laws too. If you recall my last pregnancy I was sharing time with both my husband's sisters and my sister in law. Fast forward two years later and I'm the odd one out, here they go again. My sister this time and Josh's sisters again. We love babies, and our husbands of course. My kiddos gained two new cousins just this week two days apart. Jack Cohen and Gabriela Cricket. Beautiful babies, beautiful mamas, but this blog I wanna talk about something else, something generally passed over. The daddies, my brothers in law.

I love weddings and baby births. Two things I love to be a part of. But I'm the one not so much watching the bride or mama. I focus on the guy. It never ceases to amaze me. The look on his face when he sees his bride gliding slowly down the aisle or the glint of pride in his eyes while he's showing off his new little baby. This week as I was visiting the girls I just couldn't get away from the thought of what a true blessing a good man is. A daddy. So many people struggle through life without one. I am so glad that my children are surrounded by great men who love their wives and children.

Trey, Manny, Adam, Aaron, and Josh, thanks for holding our hands and reminding us to, "Just breathe, baby!"

Funky

Do you ever have one of those days where you wake up and feel like the sun shining through your window is sparkling just for you? Morning commute prayer time is like kneeling before the throne of God and placing your requests at His feet personally? Smile on my face, pep in my step. You know what's coming next don't you? Slam, sucker punch right in the gut, air pulled from my lungs, trying not to let my lower lip quiver. What was that? Somebody tell me I just dreamed that and I'm gonna wake up in a second. Response time: cry, pray, cry some more, tell somebody what just happened, suck it up, move on. The ground just disappeared beneath my feet, but I'm gonna dig and scrape my way up the other side. No stopping this girl. Every set back is just another opportunity to implement the change step. The show must go on.

Abasement Stories

Paul learned to be abased and to abound and to be content in both places. I'm still learning. I struggle with entitlement. The inner dialogue begins, "God I've been working so hard for you...., so why did this happen to me???" Again and again and again. My great desire is a trendy prayer room in downtown Fayetteville, with the capacity to span the generations and the denominations. My present situation: a basement. Kind of ironic huh? God deals with me like this. College bound? Teen mom. Yearn for companionship? Learn to battle loneliness. Want an amazing marriage? Deal with this....first. Want to counsel others? Six kids...handle them with care. The hardship leads to the testimony leads to the victory. True victory is found in the telling. My story is what reminds me of His goodness, not my own. The deeper the descent the steeper the ascent. Abase me and abound me Lord.