31 Cups: prayer

Wisdom Wednesdays and Link Up

Frugally Sustainable
Raising Homemakers
Far Above Rubies
A Wise Woman Builds Her Home
Wholehearted Home
Growing Home

No Ordinary Blog Hop

Frontline Moms Friday Fun
The Welcoming House

Domestic Randomness~ Friday Fascinations

Courtship Connection
Living In the Shoe
Homemaking Linkup
A Proverbs 31 Wife
All Things With a Purpose
Our Days Homeschool Link Up
Mama Moments Mondays

Friday, February 8, 2013

Purple Fur and the Silver Moons

This morning on my way to drop Princess Peony off at school we passed this group of youngsters trudging through inches of snow on a not yet shoveled sidewalk. One of those boys was dressed in an extremely out-of-date snowsuit. I could almost see the silver belt buckle in front that screamed 'I was made in 1985!" My heart went out to that child. That old hand-me-down snowsuit or pair of boots can be cause for extreme, elementary school persecution.

I silently thanked God for Homeschool friends, Church Folk, Thrift Stores, and Clearance Sales.

My children proudly wear thrifted items. We almost never buy things full price. I have been blessed with left over clothes and hand-me-downed closets on many occasions. God has always provided. We often receive things that are nicer than what I would spend money on.

We do have a few standards with the used clothes. No underwear. No inappropriate tees even if it was free. If they really hate it, and I can find it elsewhere, we skip it. If not, they wear it and become a better adult through a tough lesson.

I think this stems from my year with the Purple Fur Coat and Silver Moon Boots.

My parents were very hard working folks. My dad sold seed corn and soybeans to farmers and as a result we moved from town to town as his job transferred him from area to area. I think often they had a lot to pay Peter and Paul was calling in his loan.

My mom could make a divine meal out of potatoes, WIC cheese slices, and a bunch of celery. I think she excelled at making us feel full, warm, and rich in all the important things. She taught me to cook down a chicken, knead bread dough, and make a pound of burger stretch a mile and three quarters. She taught me to grab eggs from under an ornery hen, stay out of the goats way, and love the rabbits a bit less because they would be for supper someday. She taught me the beauty of a Marigold was as important as the first ripe tomato in July.

I never really knew we were poor. I knew we were loved.

Then came the winter of my third grade year. I knew things were different in our family. It was my first realization of not having what others had. I did not have the cool jeans with rainbows on the back pocket. I did not have a polo shirt with a little embroidered horse on the left shoulder. I did not have pretty hair ties, or leg warmers, or Strawberry Shortcake erasers. My backpack was used and didn't have little beaded safety pins hanging from it. I didn't even have a friendship bracelet! My clothes were suddenly wrong even though they had always been okay.

The pinnacle of understanding my differentness came at the first snow. My coat didn't really fit. I remember standing in the local department store with my mother staring longingly at the beautiful ski jacket on display. It was one of those puffy jackets with the western style trim and pearly looking buttons. The top portion above the white piping was a darker blue and the bottom half lighter. It had a metal ring built in for your super cool ski gloves to hook on to. The jacket was shown with matching bib overall snowpants and a fun knit hat with a big fuzzy ball on the top.

Man, did I want that jacket. I instinctively knew that the blue ski jacket would make me fit within the confines of normal. I could blend in seamlessly with the rest of the class. Ah, what peace it would be. I just wanted to blend in. To be unseen.

I knew however, that it was not to be. I followed her out of the store still thinking about that jacket and about how my current coat was too short in the arms and the snow would get it and freeze up my wrists. My back peeked out if I bent over. My boots didn't fit and stunk like wet bread bags. With a 1/4 mile driveway to walk to the bus every morning that would start to be a problem awfully soon. Winter in Minnesota is merciless even in a mild year.

Mom had been given some bags of clothes for us kids from some kind soul. It was probably a neighbor or church friend who saw my exhausted parents shuffling into service every Sunday dragging twin babies, a preschooler, and me lagging behind. We were always taken care of but I remember her looking so sad so often. Poverty can be a weary place for your soul. Still, God provided for us through my mother's diligent prayers and trust.

I can see the purple fur jacket peeking out of the bag in my mind's eye. It was a pinkish, purple, fuzzy fur. The coat was like a navy pea jacket with the square of buttons in front. There were four of them colored a dull brass like an old used tea pot. I think they were suppose to look like coins with a Roman solider on them. The really horrible part however, was the white, faux fur, trim speckled with black dots. I believe the manufacturer was going for a queen's robe meets a Roman sailor on the good ship Lollypop look.

Oh, how I repelled inwardly. This was nothing like the sleek, shiny, blue ski jacket.

My mom held it up and judged the size. I knew it was mine.

So there was my winter coat. I was going to be the tail end of every joke the cool kids could come up with. My eyes filled but I did not show it. I knew I should be grateful to have a coat. The knot in my throat was so hard it hurt and I turned away.

"Look! Boots, too!"

With some apprehension I turned to see my new boots. Oh please could they not match the coat?!

Oh they didn't match the coat. Nope. They didn't match anything. They were shiny, silver moon boots. Boy moon boots. With huge, thick heals and silver laces. They went clear up to my knees and glowed like a bad sci-fi movie. They needed a ski jacket and a boy!

Really? Shall we just stick a Bull's Eye on my forehead?

"Thanks, mom."

I absolutely hated that jacket. I loathed the boots. However, I new it was the best my parents could give and I knew I shouldn't complain. (I am sure I did a bit....)

I wore them.

Grudgingly I admit, they were warm. I was teased. I was laughed at. It was embarrassing to be seen in. I stuck out like a huge purple, fuzzy, Ewok amidst the Sking Crowd. But, I sure was warm.

The lesson learned: Be thankful in all circumstances.

What a gift that is. What an amazing lesson! What a work the LORD has done in my life with a lesson began before I even knew who He was.

pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:17-18

So, sometimes, make them wear that ugly, old, out of date, piece of clothing. It builds character and thankfulness.

Always Blessed,
Gretchen :)

Possibly Linking With:

Cornerstone Confessions

Wisdom Wednesdays and Link Up

Frugally Sustainable
Raising Homemakers
Far Above Rubies
A Wise Woman Builds Her Home
Wholehearted Home
Growing Home

No Ordinary Blog Hop

Frontline Moms Friday Fun
The Welcoming House

Domestic Randomness~ Friday Fascinations

Courtship Connection
Living In the Shoe
Homemaking Linkup Weekend

Friday, January 18, 2013

Help Mommy Stop It Crying

Regret by Alfred Stevens

Today I had a homeschool mama meltdown. Oh it was a slobbery mess. It was one of those hide in the bathroom and cry into some toilet paper moments. What? You don't have those?!

Every parent of multiple children has that one kid that has to push the buttons. Some of you have an only child that likes to push your buttons. That one child that always knows just which trigger to click to send you careening over the edge of sanity. The kid that can simply look at you the wrong day when you haven't had your third cup of of coffee yet and it simply just ticks. you. off. For no reason. The child that says things that are rude. That acts inconsiderate. Stubborn. Willful. Ungrateful. This child will be bold in his discontent and make everyone know about it. Or perhaps he will cause discontent simply because he can. He will monitor the ebb and flow of your day and when the toddler has tried to clean the toilet (true story), the cat has escaped out the screen door (again), and you have burnt the second batch of cookies for the church potluck he will strike. Like a coiled garden snake. Just a nip. An off side comment about the lunch you prepared. Or a personal correction on how you could have done it better. This child never says I am sorry. He is the one that hurts you to the core and who you pray most earnestly for. He is the one you worry about.

Now for non-homeschool world this child is difficult. He is the one the school calls home about. The one who got sucked into a game of 'pick on the fat kid' or a child that wrote naughty notes because someone told him to. This child talks back to teachers and stares out windows instead at the board. He is a challenge. He gets several different teachers who will tiptoe around his ego and hold his hand through every problem. They will attempt to build his low self esteem because that must be why he acts out. As a parent at home, you can survive the time the tyrant is home and then breathe when he is shipped off to school to be in some else's hair for a bit.

The homeschool mom has no such luxury. She will be a target for his misguided actions. He will ignore her careful plans and strive to be busy being anything but productive at his work. He will need almost constant supervision. When you are cleaning up the toddler, writing out math problems for your first grader and cutting up a chicken for supper he will wander from his studies to get the really good color crayons buried somewhere in his room or take a 35 minute bathroom break. He will become engrossed in watching a spider crawl across his bedroom ceiling and forget about his copywork. When you homeschool it is difficult to balance this child that takes three times longer to do everything. When you want to be starting Bible Study he is looking for his Bible becasue he has misplaced it... again. He makes everyone wait. He is often spouting authority he doesn't have. He fails to take responsibility for his actions unless they are golden. Then he doesn't let anyone forget it. It is exhausting.

Now on the flip side this is that kid with the million dollar smile. He gives it out like a gift. Eyes lit up mischievously. You can't help but love him in his naughtiness. You know there is an amazing potential in this child. One that if directed and guided can be a powerful tool for the LORD. His boldness is celebrated by God. His fearlessness is suited for sharing the gospel in unkind places. His ability to read you can be used for discernment in places of unrest and upheaval. His whimsy will allow him to get lost in God without guilt of all the have-tos and must-dos all of the law abiding, responsible folks miss out on.

But oh how painful it is to survive the here and now. How frustrating to feel that you may never see the day this child curbs his sin and instead uses his gifts for God's glory! It can bring a mother to tears. Sobbing tears. In the bathroom. With the Princess Petunia on her potty.

The Preacher Man peeks in and says : Honey, You are doing an amazing job.

I feel like I'm failing. ~snot running.

No, you're not failing.

He wraps me in his arms.

If he ends up in jail, will it be my fault?

No, it will be his choice. We will love him just like we love all our children in their messes. And we will visit him. ~ He chuckles.

LORD God, Bless mommy and help her stop it crying. Amen.

Out of Princess Petunia. I am blessed. I am doing something right.

In my concentrated prayer time this verse was jumping out at me. I had read it earlier in a distracted sort of way...

⁷And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ~Philippians 4:7

In fact let's take the whole chunk... How do we get the peace?

⁶Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. ⁷And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ~Philippians 4:4-7

Well, aren't I making my requests known to God? Doesn't He know how painful this parent -child relationship can be? Well, of course HE does! Are we not often just like this spoiled, naughty child?

Which is why we are commanded to let our requests {petitions} be made known BY our prayers and supplication. The World English Dictionary defines Supplication as a humble entreaty or petition. Catch that? Humble. Humble Prayer. And we are to do that humble prayer WITH Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is the act of giving thanks; grateful acknowledgment of benefits or favors, especially to God.

I am often demanding that He fix this child. Or fix me. Or fix us. But I am not being humble in my request. I am expecting that I know better than my LORD. Oh how wrong! And I am forgetting to be thankful. I have much to be thankful for, even with this child that vexes me so very much.

The Lord goes on to tell me He will give me peace beyond all understanding if I will follow this simple equation. The LORD will guard my heart and my understanding if I am humble before Him and go to Him with thanksgiving.

In conclusion, He gives me the way to calm down those feelings of inadequacy. Of frustration. Of I feel like I am failing again thoughts. He gives meditation tools!

⁸Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. ~Philippians 4:8

If my attitude is defeatist I should dwell on things commendable.
If I am at the end of the proverbial rope I should think about the Strength the LORD gives me.
If I have had a day of constant disruption and agonized over language arts just one last time I can take a few moments and meditate on how blessed we are to pray through those lessons.

And the Peace will be with me.

Always Blessed,
Gretchen :)

This was post was featured at:

The WholeHearted Home

Possibly Linking With: Cornerstone Confessions

Frugally Sustainable Artful Homemaking Far Above Rubies A Wise Woman Builds Her Home Wholehearted Home Growing Home

Wisdom Wednesdays and Link Up
No Ordinary Blog Hop
Frontline Moms Friday Fun
The Welcoming House
Domestic Randomness~ Friday Fascinations

Monday, January 7, 2013

Opening That Can of Worms

source

Confession Time.

I goofed Up. Again.

Have you ever had one of those moments when a thought pops into your head that seems completely unrelated to what is going on around you? Sometimes it is a drive to do something outside of your comfort zone. Or one of those things you don't really want to do. Perhaps you find it too bothersome.

It may be something as simple as 'You really need to grab the umbrella.'
I dislike umbrellas. I find them cumbersome while dragging around a toddler, a diaper bag, a purse, my coffee cup and someone's pink blanket. There is no place put the dripping wet umbrella when you get to the grocery store and then it just gets everything wet and messy. Oh, I don't like wet and messy! I would honestly rather get sprinkled on. Unless of course, I had a feeling I should bring that umbrella and I ignored it and then proceeded to accidentally lock myself out of the van. With a toddler. In the rain. Gosh, an umbrella might have been helpful. Maybe I should have grabbed one....

Maybe it is that nagging feeling that you should call so and so from church or send grandma a love note. You are standing knee deep in life while canning tomatoes with a sick, teething, baby and you have spelled Minnesota fifty-five times for your elementary student's state report in the last twenty minutes and in pops, 'You should really give Matilda a call. Maybe she needs a meal.' Really? Umm, I guess I don't have a free arm for that.

I have been getting better about this business of listening. I know in the past I have brushed off that nagging little buzzy bee and said, 'No, not me!' to more than one of the LORD's commands of me. Now though, now I am listening better. The more I read my Bible and pray the louder that command is. Hard to brush it off when you know better.

A few years back I was standing in the checkout line of a local gas station thinking about how much I wish I could buy one of their amazing pizzas for supper with my gas money instead of going home and making a real supper. I was politely minding my own business in my daydream while holding my youngster's hand and intermittently saying no to gum, chocolate, candy, and lighters. Once I got up to the checkout woman we visited a bit because I knew her vaguely through my husband.

In my head popped this idea: 'Invite her to church.'
What? There are three men waiting in line behind me and my child has just grabbed a beef stick off the counter for the third time... I need to get out of here. I'm not inviting her to church!
'Invite her to church.'
No, it's weird. She will think I am weird.
'Invite her to church!'
People don't talk about that in checkout lines. No.

I left with child minus gas money, beef sticks, and my peaceful heart.
And I never forgot that feeling of disobedience. I had no right to decide no. My job is to say it even if it sounds foolish and crazy. I felt guilt for quite some time.

Flash forward to my now world. I have learned so much since then! I invite people to church all the time. We do hymns and modern worship. We raise our hands. We clap. We hug and pray. We fellowship and drink coffee. We HOME church. Not an easy, chattable topic for most people because it is a little on the fringes of 'normal'. We never intended to home church, it just happened according to the LORD's plan. Who am I to not invite people to hear God's word just because it may be different?
So I am not ashamed and I have gotten pretty good at those nudges from the Holy Spirit because I do not like the feeling that comes with disobedience. I really try to act on those buzzy bee ideas even when I am so very uncomfortable I want to squirm under a rock afterwards. I'm trying to obey my LORD and doing okay. Or so I thought.

Two weeks ago I was at the grocery store, this time with three kids, a list and a mission. I ran into an some old friends. Well a friend of The Preacher Man. The Preacher Man's used to be best friend before the ministry they were in fell apart and dissolved along with their friendship. When that ministry center took a dive it swallowed up and spit out too many Christian brothers and sisters and the pain was a resounding gong that hasn't fully healed in any of us. Aren't church splits the absolute most painful?

So here I am, forced with a need to be friendly when it feels so awkward and unsure. There was an ocean of disagreements, tears, and regrets standing in the 4 feet between me and ex-best friend and his wife. It felt uncomfortable, icky, sad. We talked politely. My heart trembled. And I heard it. I felt it.

Where are they going to church?

Oh please LORD no.

Are they churching anywhere?

No, no, no, no.... this is too hard. That ministry almost ruined my marriage. No.

Just give them the address.

No... I don't have it memorized.

Invite them to church.

No, it just hurts too much.

We say goodbye. Sir Bean has to use the restroom. Prince Ray has seen a friend. I am dazed on the inside and yet mostly calm on my exterior.
I am sweating.
I can hear my internal dialogue on a loop like a bad movie trailer. OVER AND OVER IT PLAYS.
I feel instant guilt.
I pray. I pull out my phone and quickly text to get the official address and scrounge through my purse and find a scrap of pink princess paper.

With a green crayon I write the address and time with this: The LORD is leading me to invite you to church on Sunday. It may be a can of worms we don't want to deal with. Which is probably why he wants us to open it.

I look everywhere in the store.
I lose the paper and write it again. But they are gone.

I am ashamed.
I pray. I commit.

Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ.

~1 Corinthians 11:1

Publicly I commit to a do over on that. I think the LORD will bring us another 'chance' meeting and I will follow through.

Let's open that can of worms.

Say of your brothers, ‘My people,’ and of your sisters, ‘My loved one.’

~ Hosea 2:1

Always Blessed,
Gretchen :)

Possibly Linking With:
Cornerstone Confessions

Frugally Sustainable Artful Homemaking Far Above Rubies A Wise Woman Builds Her Home Wholehearted Home Growing Home

Wisdom Wednesdays and Link Up
No Ordinary Blog Hop
Frontline Moms Friday Fun
The Welcoming House
Domestic Randomness~ Friday Fascinations

Monday, December 31, 2012

A Kindlier Dozen

And ye, who have met with Adversity's blast,
And been bow'd to the earth by its fury;
To whom the Twelve Months, that have recently pass'd
Were as harsh as a prejudiced jury -
Still, fill to the Future! and join in our chime,
The regrets of remembrance to cozen,
And having obtained a New Trial of Time,
Shout in hopes of a kindlier dozen.
~Thomas Hood

source

A dozen. 12. An easy number. Not too big and not too small. Even and clean looking.

Pleasing to the eye is the number twelve.

Easily divided, multiplied and added.

An able goal can be 12 lbs. Or 12 thank yous.

Twelve more smiles in a day.

Good things come in twelve.

12 eggs.

Dozen donuts.

Twelve hours and 12 dollars.

A Year. Twelve Months. Twelve new beginnings every single year.

Twelve last-day-of-the-months to assess how it went.

Twelve turns of the moon to watch it shift and change, grow and shrink like shadows.

Twelve months to enjoy our seasons flowing into each other like ripples on the lake.

Twelve chunks of time linked together and filled with mundane chores and beautiful moments of grace. The days run together in succession of do this-es and do thats and occasionally we pause for a moment and watch our children be the amazing creatures they are.

Sometimes life feels on top of the world like you have your own personal ray of sunshine from God warming you into cat in the windowsill complacency. Oh how we like that sunshine and those easy peasy days.

Sometimes it feels like if that one more thing happens just one more time the thin thread of sanity might just break. Sometimes those threads are stuck straining and holding you together for far more than just one moon cycle. It can start to feel a bit tiresome hanging over that pit for so long. Two months? Four? A year?

Some years are just like that.

To God Be the Glory in those days.

When you cry yourself to sleep from fear.

When your head swims with unpaid bills.

When your stomach turns because of relationships that worsen instead of strengthen.

When the house is constantly in need of repair...

and the children are fighting out their emotions...

and the teenagers are struggling with growing up lessons...

and your friend is possibly sick with cancer...

and your own health is in question...

and your husband is gone so often you feel like a single parent sometimes...

and there is a death in your family that you just can not wrap your mind around or fix your heart from quivering at the thought of his last days...

Some Years are just like that. God can still get the Glory.

A dozen months to feel kind of miserable in a self wallowing, private, pity party sort of way. To lament your troublesome life. A whole year to hang on to that fraying thread of...

HOPE.

Honestly, Hope in Jesus is all you really have.

When all else is out of control and wrong.

He is there.

When there are no answers and no way it seems out of the situation.

He is there.

When you stop relying on yourself.

He is there.

There are no promises for a top of the mountain sunshiny spa day. So frankly, some years are going to just stink. The LORD uses this though. He uses our human messes and our frustration. He uses our lack of understanding. He uses our life experience and asks us to trust Him. Have Hope in Him.

¹⁸“Forget the former things;
    do not dwell on the past.
¹⁹See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness    and streams in the wasteland. ~Isaiah 43:18-19

That wasteland can stretch forever. One thing after another until you feel the breaking point. Until it seems you may never feel calm again. But the wasteland is real. It is part of our journey here. It is integral for God's plan in your life. Embrace it and learn from it. Trust in Him. He is your Hope.

1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:

²    a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
³    a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
⁴    a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
⁵    a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
⁶    a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
⁷    a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,⁸    a time to love and a time to hate,    a time for war and a time for peace, ~Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Dear Lord, please give us a kindlier dozen this year. I'm ready for some sun.

Always Blessed,

Gretchen :)

Verses all from www.biblegateway.com

Quote from http://www.quotegarden.com/new-year.html

Possibly Linking With:
Cornerstone Confessions