The Sacrifice of Convenience

The children ran inside with rosy cheeks and the bottom of their pants dragging with the weight of wet snow. As they began to strip off their wet clothes and run upstairs to find a drier alternative, I turned to the stove.

In a pan, I whisked the cocoa powder, sugar, and salt and then turned on the kitchen faucet and waited for the water to turn hot. I added the water and stirred, watching as the powdery mixture transformed into a thick syrup.

“Is it ready yet?” Caleb asked as he ran down the stairs in his new outfit.

“No, sweetie. It takes time.”

And I watched the chocolate goo in the pan until slow bubbles rose up and popped.

I carefully poured in the milk and stirred amidst the sounds of a football bouncing off the wall and a toy shopping cart rolling throughout the downstairs. I, too, felt myself growing impatient for the warm, chocolate treat, testing the temperature every minute or so.

Finally, the drink was warm, and I turned off the stove and added the final touch of vanilla. As I poured the beverage into our mugs, I noticed how smooth and perfect the liquid flowed, and I gathered everyone to the table.

At the request of the kids, I grabbed some cinnamon sticks for everyone to stir, and then we drank. I slowly sipped, and my body warmed from the chocolate goodness.

I looked around the table, at three faces with newly painted chocolate mustaches, and I smiled at how happy they looked. Why in my life did I ever drink instant hot chocolate? I wondered as I brought more of the treat to my lips. This tastes so much better.

I had had that thought numerous times before. Cinnamon rolls from scratch, homemade bread, salsa, macaroni and cheese–in a quest to avoid unnatural ingredients, I had tried my hand at making many recipes the old-fashioned way rather than popping a can or opening a jar.

And the taste–there was never any comparison.

As I sipped my drink, I wondered what other tastes I had sacrificed in the name of convenience. Sure, the time to make these homemade recipes was at least double the instant or pre-made version, but they were always worth the wait.

A lot of things in my life are worth the wait.

What else had I sacrificed because it just wasn’t convenient?

I sipped from my mug and smiled at the kids who looked like they bathed in their chocolate instead of drinking it, and I thought of the many things in my life that were a true investment of time. I moved the warm cup between my hands, now empty, and felt its testimony–that the best things in life don’t come in an instant.

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Don’t forget to join me on Friday for Journeys! Click here to find out more information, or click on the word ‘Journeys’ in the tag cloud for examples. This Friday’s journey: Faith

Peace

The day is blurry, the path before me a hazy white that blends into the morning sky, and I gingerly place one foot in front of the other, hoping I’m stepping on solid ground.

I recognize this path, having walked it before, but the surroundings have changed–I have changed–and I continue on, holding my hood close to my face, protecting my skin from the bitter cold. I know I wasn’t promised a journey without pain. I know I wasn’t promised a journey without tears, and I fight the gnawing in my belly that tells me to give in to the anxiety that would have me turn back the other way.

And while I want to see the end of the road, the stark white on white allows me only to see that which is right before me. So I take a step.

With each step, I question the direction I am headed. Uncertain, I clutch the mustard seed in my hand a little tighter and watch as my feet hit the ground before me.

It’s only a mustard seed, but it is enough. For I know now that when I whisper to Him in the dark of night, frightened by the unknown that surrounds me, He gently touches my cheek. And when I continue to journey along the path, unable to see more than a few steps ahead, He lifts me over the roots and the mire that would entangle and snare.

I don’t have to see the end. I don’t have to understand the journey. But I have to take Him with me, for the uncertainty is too great, too overwhelming, to continue on without a guide.

So I call to Him earlier now. I no longer want to lead where I am not familiar, and He graciously makes straight my path. And while I still cannot see the end, I am eager to follow, for there is a break in the alabaster clouds, a sliver of light ahead.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7).

How has the Lord shown you His peace? Leave a comment, or link your own post below!

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Marriage According to a Four-Year-Old

As we were riding along in the van on Sunday afternoon, I lazily closed my eyes and rested my head on my hand. I wasn’t really comfortable, propping my elbow against the window, but it was the best improvisation for a pillow that I could make.

In the back of the van, Caleb and Hannah Grace were having their own conversation, and I was pleased with the relative quiet for a van filled with five people. I hadn’t heard what started the conversation that caused me to sit up abruptly, but as I caught that first sentence, I focused my attention on every word that came out of the mouths of the two in the back:

Caleb: “Hannah Grace, you’re going to grow up and marry a boy someday.”

Hannah Grace: “Which one?”

Caleb: “I don’t know. You’ll just have to pick one, I guess.”

Hannah Grace: “I want to marry Daddy.”

Caleb: “You can’t marry Daddy; he’s already married.”

Hannah Grace: “But I want to marry Daddy!”

And my heart melted. I’ve heard that all girls want to marry their daddies when they’re young, but when those words came out of my daughter’s mouth, I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face.

That is, until my son continued:

Caleb: “You can’t marry Daddy! He’s already married, and one day you’re going to grow up, and Daddy and Mommy are going to die, so you have to marry somebody else.”

?!?!

And after that description of marriage, my heart froze back over.

Joining Mama Kat today for her Writer’s Workshop!

And don’t forget to come back tomorrow with your own post ready to link up for this week’s journey on Peace!

Turn My Heart

Prior to Christmas, I began reading through the book of Luke. I didn’t even make it past the first chapter when my eyes read over a verse that pierced my heart and has since convicted me daily:

“And he will go on before the Lord, in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the parents to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous—to make ready a people prepared for the Lord” (Luke 1:17).

The angel Gabriel is prophesying to Zechariah about the son whom he will father, yet when I read those words, every time I re-read them, I hear him speaking to me.

“to turn the hearts of the parents to their children”

I live my life for my children, and I sacrifice, but I also gripe daily, yearning for some time to hide away in a corner and read a book. Yearning for the day when I don’t immediately go from their prolonged bedtime to mine. Yearning for an hour to clean the bathrooms and then wondering what the heck is wrong with me that my dream is to clean bathrooms?

Where is my heart turned? Toward them or me?

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In case you missed it, this week’s journey is on peace. Come link up on Friday with your own post on this theme.

The Parenting Book I’ll Never Write

Last week was one of those weeks when the kids were awful, and my response was no better. After enduring one of those miserable moments, I began folding clothes and thought I will never write a parenting book. And as soon as the thought entered my mind, I realized that I also said I would never teach, like vegetable soup, or drive a mini-van.

Of course, if I did write a parenting book, it would not look like your typical book with research and sound advice and plans. It would serve more as a survival guide based on first-hand experience for those parents who also feel like they are losing their minds. So here goes, a sneak peak at excerpts from my book that I’ll never write.

My Child Peed on an Electric Socket: And Other Tales to Make You Feel Better About Your Parenting

From Chapter 4: How Did We End Up Here?

“If your child, in a moment of dramatics, ever propels himself out of his car booster seat, somehow wrapping the still buckled seatbelt around his ankle about twenty times, suspending his lower body mid-air while the rest of him hangs below, it is okay to step back and stare for a few minutes in bewilderment. Don’t feel guilty. After all, it is a pretty impressive feat and most likely won’t happen again. You might even take this opportunity to get the rest of the children settled inside and grab your camera. Don’t worry–he’s not going anywhere. When you are finally ready to rescue your child, simply unbuckle the seatbelt, and unwind.”

From Chapter 6: That Darned Toddler Bed

“Let’s face it–some kids just don’t care if Super Nanny said the technique would work. You can sit in that room all night long, silently putting that toddler back in bed without looking at or talking to her, and she’s still going to jump out laughing. So what are you going to do? You can continue on with the same routine, or you can give your back a rest for one night.

Try this technique: Wait until nap time to feed your kid lunch and bedtime to feed your kid dinner. After numerous days without a nap and too many nights of staying up hours past her bedtime, restraining your child in the highchair will be just the trick you need to have her zonked out in no time. When that little cutie is sleeping in her applesauce, simply move her to her bed. Trust me–after this many days of not sleeping, she’s not going to wake up when you move her.

Worried about what your friends will think? Who cares?! God didn’t give you one of those kids who calls for Mommy to get him out of bed in the morning. Your kid’s already downstairs making pancakes for breakfast! It’s about survival, and your survival is important!”

From Chapter 10: Teaching Them About God

“Who knew the question, ‘Who wants to pray first?’ could be so lethal? I looked in the rearview mirror, amidst the screams of ‘I’m first!’ ‘No, it’s my turn today!’ and saw my children punching one another. Yes, punching over who would pray first. Then each one began to start his or her own prayer, reaching over the sides of their car seats to slap the other on the head while yelling, “Dear God, thank you for this day!”

When your day has reached this point, I can suggest a couple of courses of action: turn the radio up, tune them out, or pray to God silently. Whatever you do, don’t try to yell at them to ‘Knock it off!’ or ‘Do you really think this makes God happy?!’ Because in the end, you’ll just start screaming during prayer (even if that prayer is being yelled), and you’ll feel like the loser when it’s all said and done.”

I’m even going to include a few bonus chapters on marriage:

Chapter 20: Fair Fights

“Try to resist the urge to blame your spouse for your child(ren)’s behavior. Pointing out that ‘it must be your genes because I never acted this way as a kid’ doesn’t really help the situation. Even if it is true.”

Chapter 21: Sex

“Don’t. If you’re reading this book, you don’t need to take the chance.”

What chapters would you include in a parenting book?

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And to totally switch gears…

This Friday’s Journey: Peace

Write any kind of post covering the theme. You may use Scripture or not, write explicitly or implicitly, use a story or poem, etc., as far as what God is teaching you about peace. There are no rules other than to stick to the theme, and open your heart to what God would have you learn.

Last Friday we had three lovely ladies share their stories of joy, and I look forward to reading yours on peace this Friday!

Reclaiming My Joy

I looked down the row at the tops of heads covered by the dark of the theater. Like bookends we held little ones in, keeping them from wandering in the aisle, holding them tight to our chests when the scenes were too intense for their impressionable minds. I caught Matt’s eye as Caleb formed a ball in his lap while I secured Chloe in mine, Hannah Grace nestled in the next seat, and my tummy grew warm with the liquor of joy. It was a simple moment, but the moment filled me, and the taste of contentment lingered on my lips for the rest of the evening.

Five days later, I was empty. A toddler bed was my undoing, and more than anything, all I wanted in the next moment was sleep. Sleep to bring stillness. Sleep to refresh. Sleep to wipe away the yesterdays of this week. I found irony in the situation that, during the week when I was supposed to contemplate the spiritual significance of joy, I felt anything but.

And I had to ask the question, where does it go? The Bible states that one of the fruits of the Spirit is joy, but so often I allow my circumstances, normally trivial, to dictate whether or not I bite into that fruit. I allow my own mind to deceive me into believing that my insecurities are reality, and slowly the joy evaporates from within.

But I wanted to reclaim my joy, and I scanned the Scriptures for any reference to the word, hoping to glean some insight as to how to scatter the dark cloud from overhead. I found some of what I expected and already knew: Experiencing the Lord produces indescribable joy.

As the exiles gathered to hear Ezra read the Word of God, they began to weep for they finally understood what they were hearing. Yet Nehemiah tells them, “Do not grieve, for the joy of the LORD is your strength” (Nehemiah 8:10, New International Version, 2010). And they rejoiced.

Tasting the beauty of the Lord, understanding His law which in turns magnifies the sheer gift of His grace will produce joy. I have known this joy, but continually living in this state of awareness seems impossible. How do I rejoice in the LORD when the disobedience of my children has worn me thin? How do I rejoice in the LORD when I feel like a failure? How do I rejoice in the LORD when I feel ashamed to utter His name?

And as I scanned further, God’s Word began to illuminate answers to this question. Verse after verse tied righteousness to joy:

“Light shines on the righteous and joy on the upright in heart” (Psalm 97:11).

“The prospect of the righteous is joy, but the hopes of the wicked come to nothing” (Proverbs 10:28).

“Evildoers are snared by their own sin, but the righteous shout for joy and are glad” (Proverbs 29:6).

Perhaps my joy eluded me because I failed to live righteously. As I lost my temper with my children, control over my words, I lost my grip on joy. As I gave in to the fatigue that told me I was incompetent, I gave in to the sin that would have me rely on my own strength.

Perhaps Nehemiah’s words, spoken directly to a people celebrating the completion of the Wall of Jerusalem, are spoken directly to me, as well.

Jennifer–the joy of the LORD is your strength.

When your children defy you, the joy of the LORD is your strength.

When your husband disappoints you, the joy of the LORD is your strength.

When your coworker cheats you, the joy of the LORD is your strength.

When your friend deserts you, the joy of the LORD is your strength.

In His kindness, He has made known His expectations, and He has given us the strength to uphold them if we will so choose. And when we don’t, He has given us a net of grace to keep the fall from breaking us beyond repair.

And that truth is my joy. And that truth is my strength.

And that truth is stronger than any cloud that hangs over my head.

So I will claim it as I sigh a prayer of gratitude before I drift off to sleep, trusting that His strength will be waiting for me in the morning, holding the promise of a new joy.

Now it’s your turn! What did you learn about joy this week? Leave a comment below, or add a link to your blog post (not to your webpage but the actual URL of the post). Include a link back to my site, or grab the html code below for my button so others can join the conversation.

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New Year’s Eve 2010

A simple contentment filled our home as the kids reveled in the extra time with their daddy. Every night during his break was family game night, and, of course, we broke out the Wii on New Year’s Eve. Matt and I smiled across the room at one another as our four-year-old threw strikes and made every spare on a game we had less than a week while we were still trying to figure out our own techniques. Then we all made the haul upstairs, and we proceeded with the routine of getting three little ones in bed.

Of course because we had plans to enjoy our New Year’s Eve together, alone on the couch, watching a movie and munching on snacks, Chloe decided she wasn’t going to fall asleep. Repeated trips to her room, the cushion in her rocking chair worn, finally proved successful, and our toddler drifted to sleep around ten that night.

My plan to make hors d’oeuvres and cinnamon rolls from scratch to share on New Year’s morning didn’t seem that important anymore given the lateness of the evening, so we proceeded to the couch, ripping open a box of crackers. We popped in our movie and snuggled under blankets, our own tiredness hanging heavy on our eyelids. Yet we were awake enough to stop the DVD at quarter ’til midnight, grab two glasses and our sparkling cider, and find Dick Clark on the TV to help us count down the seconds until the New Year. At midnight, we gave each other the obligatory kiss and watched as confetti danced over Time Square.

We resumed our positions under the blankets and returned to our movie, the first half of it behind us. And when it was over, we put our glasses in the sink and headed up the stairs, the first time in 2011. And once again, we snuggled under blankets.

Looking back over the night, if New Year’s Eve is any indication of this coming year, I think we’ll be all right. After all, we just might stay awake for movies now.

Don’t forget to come back tomorrow and link up for the first installment of Journeys!

The Journey to Iceland

“We’re going to see Iceland.”

I looked up from the mess I was clearing away at the table to see my daughter, dressed in a cowboy hat, coat, and little pink backpack filled to the brim.

“Iceland?” I questioned. I was certain I had never told my three-year-old about Iceland, as geography is not my thing, and I was curious as to where she learned of the place.

“Yes, Iceland. We need to go.”

I could hear my son in the playroom, clamoring to fill his own bag with necessities for the trip.

I was instantly concerned. When my son emerged, he was wearing a blue vest and a baseball cap. I wasn’t sure that they were dressed appropriately for the journey, and I feared that they would need more than the bags on their backs for this kind of adventure.

But they were ready to go, and my questions about the weather and where they would stay once they arrived did not deter them from taking that first step out the back door.

As I grabbed my camera and coat (wouldn’t you take a camera if you were heading to Iceland?), I couldn’t help but wonder where this journey would end and what I would find. I wanted to act in my kids’ play, but I needed to understand my character’s motivation first.

Unfortunately, it’s not unlike me to focus on the destination instead of the journey in more than just my children’s play. When I feel God’s leading, I want to know all of the details immediately before I begin. If I am going through a trial, I know God will use it for good, but I want to know what that ‘good’ is while I struggle. If God calls me to Iceland, I want to know how to pack.

During the Christmas season, it’s easy for me to sing about Emmanuel and nod my head and smile as I think of the baby in the manger. I can proclaim that God is with us as I recall the story of the virgin birth and a newborn whose arrival caused the heavens to break open in songs of praise while a group of shepherds shook in awe and fear.

I know Emmanuel, yet I forget what His name means. I forget that not only does God orchestrate the journey with an end that fits perfectly in the giant puzzle of the universe but that He also takes the trip with me, offering to carry my pink backpack when the load becomes too heavy or take my hands in His when I’ve forgotten my gloves.

Emmanuel. God With Us.

Even on trips to Iceland.

I watched as Hannah Grace led the way through the yard, determined that we make it to Iceland in time for dinner. We were to have Taco Bell. And suddenly, I heard an important piece of information:

“Hurry! Iceland is waiting for us, and he’s going to take us to Taco Bell.” He. Iceland is a person. The story began to make sense (well, sort of).

So we journeyed on to the place in our yard where a beautiful summer garden once bloomed, and we ate Taco Bell with Iceland. And I learned that I didn’t need to worry at all; we had exactly what we needed for the journey.

If you haven’t already, check out yesterday’s post to see what’s starting new this Friday!

Resolving to Make a Resolution

As the holidays came to a close, the tree and ornaments taken down and put away, I let out a quick sigh for the vacuuming that would have to take place tomorrow. Normally at this point in the new year, I feel a little let down, as if all the build up and rush for that one special day had come and gone and took a little of the satisfaction with it. However, this year eagerness follows as I step into January. The end of December was filled with all the frantic rush and hurry from one place to the next as is typical in our holiday traditions, but the time was perfect. And now, I am anxious to start fresh, and for the first time, I resolved to write down concrete, measurable resolutions.

A couple of those resolutions relate specifically to developing as a writer and taking my blog to the next level. Over the last few months prior to the holidays, I started to write more frequently, largely in part to figuring out the time of day in which I had the best chance of writing successfully, and I want to keep that momentum going. In addition, I want to take a risk and invite others to join me.

Six months ago, I started ‘Focus On It Friday‘ as a way to force my thoughts toward all the good in my life. After the birth of Chloe a year and a half ago, my life had taken a crazy turn, and I wasn’t always pleased with the way I parented or how my children acted. We weren’t able to sell our home, and Matt’s long days at work continued. Many mornings started with frantic rushing, and the evenings seemed filled with chaos. However, God showed me, without fail, that I could easily write about something for which I was thankful every Friday.

I needed those Fridays to reflect, but now I feel a pull in a different direction. Over the last year, I have learned that, not only is life a journey, but so are the times of learning when God grabs my hand and tries to open my eyes and my mind to His truth. While this last year I needed to focus on having a thankful heart, I now need to focus on the journey, and I want to invite you along.

Every Monday or Tuesday I will share a word or Bible verse relating to a spiritual topic, and I will spend the week reflecting on that idea. On Friday, I will post my reaction to that topic, and I would love for you to share your reaction, as well, by linking your post to my blog. Your post can take many forms–use your own creative flair as you explore the theme for the week.

My hope is that God will teach me more about Him through this time of reflection, and at the same time, others will be encouraged through what they read. I will strive to create a safe place where people can reflect, whether they are long-time Christians or uncertain about their beliefs.

So what do you say? Will you join me on this journey?

This week’s journey: Joy

The Perfect Gift

The week was filled with wrapping paper and shiny bows. Warm meals shared with family filled our bellies, as carols by candlelight filled our souls. Rich cups of hot cocoa graced our Christmas morning and decadent desserts our Christmas meal–our children never feared a lack of sugar. Smiles and laughter echoed throughout our homes as children ripped into presents, and the cries accompanying meltdowns reverberated against the walls as the night beckoned children to bed. The week was beautiful and exhilarating and tiring, and I still haven’t recovered.

Yet of all the moments of Christmas, my favorite arrived Christmas night as little white flakes filled the ebony sky, giving us one more gift together.

Crazy hats and mis-matched gloves served as testimony to a family who hasn’t seen much snow, and snow delivered the perfect excuse to extend family time a little longer…

And as the cold bit my face and my fingers went numb, I couldn’t help but think that this winter wonderland was the perfect end to the holiday–the holiday where we remembered the gift that didn’t cost us anything but made us white as snow.

What was your favorite gift this Christmas?