Alexa Shepard's Blog, page 5

Mr Potato Head

Most of us can remember "Mr Potato Head" from our childhood.  It was great fun to take apart his pieces and rearrange them in funny ways.  What parent did not become annoyed at our constant, "look at his silly face." "look how cool this is!"  "Look at him now!"  "Look at him now, and now and now.....

Sometimes as a grownup, I find myself wanting to believe that the relationships in my life are just like my "Mr Potato Head" of my childhood.  I want to move things around a little bit, and omit a few things.  

My children would look like this....  they would have many ears so they could hear my instruction.  They would have many hands so they could do all their chores quickly and efficiently.  But, I would remove their mouth so they couldn't talk back, no legs so they couldn't run away, and definitely no eyes so they couldn't see my bad examples.

We, (I) tend to want to do this in my relationships as well.  I would place big ole ears on them so they were great at listening to my side of the story.  I'd give them arms to comfort me and hold me.  But I would not give them a nose so they couldn't stick it in my business.  And forget the mouth so they couldn't tell me their feelings or opinions of me.

In doing this I was trying to make the relationships in my life more comfortable for me.  I had expectations that I placed on those around me to make me feel good about myself and lets face it, make life easier.  When our children see our bad examples and mistakes in life we feel shame.  When our partner shares their feelings with us that we have hurt them, we feel ugly and cruel.  If we could just "pop" their mouth off or remove their eyes, well, we could avoid a lot of pain.

But God did not create people, or relationships that way.  They were never meant to be opaque, but transparent.  They were meant to be an exchange of truth and vulnerability.  It's not about getting our own needs  met, as much as it is coming together in all our brokenness and vulnerability and loving each other through it.

Once I realized this, I was also faced with the question, "Am I doing this with God?"  Am I making him my own "Mr Potato Head" God?  Do I want him to have ears to hear my prayers and pleas when I cry out to him?   Hands to catch me when I fall and legs to run to me when I need him?  I surely don't want him to have a mouth to tell me what I am doing wrong, or eyes to see what I am doing wrong.

Reducing God into a small form that we can be comfortable with is idolatry.  We can never truly have a deep meaningful relationship with our Lord, if we don't understand the whole of Him.  When we start removing parts to make us more comfortable with Him, we remove his holiness and the very nature of who He is.  Ultimately then, He has no effect in our lives.  We remove the holy spirits power to move us and transform us.

The next time I feel like I want to "rearrange" some parts on my "Mr Potato Head" relationships, I will remind myself that God is the ultimate creator.  He placed all the perfect parts there for a reason.  And maybe, just maybe, I can look at all those beautiful parts and exclaim, " Look how cool this is!"

 

 

 

The Whistle Man

A few years ago, I went to visit my aunt and uncle in Michigan.  My aunt is a musical savant.  She is known around the world for her "gift" of music and playing unusual and eclectic instruments.  When I was visiting with them, my aunt announced we were going on a road trip to see a "world famous" Irish whistle maker.  She had high hopes to buy one of these special whistles.  Road trip!!!!!  FUN!!  But when we were belted in the car en route to said whistle craftsman, she informed us that this whistle man was no ordinary man.  he was eccentric, AND it had been known that if he didn't like you, he would NOT sell you his whistles!  

We were under strict instructions to be on our BEST behavior, no matter the circumstances.  Well, I am a rule follower, so I thought no worries.  We got this.  I mean how bad could it be?

We pulled up the gravel driveway to an old farm house.  Around the back of the house was a barn like shed.  There were hundreds of whistles hanging from the old rafters, and I remember a big long wood table took up most of the floor space.  My aunts eyes light up like a kid in a candy store.  In her amazing way she charmed the old whistle man and was soon playing whistle after whistle to find just the right one.  I could tell that this eccentric artist wasn't so sure about people touching his crafted masterpieces.  I was starting to get nervous that we would be sent away empty handed, and my aunt would be devastated!  But soon his focus shifted and that's when I realized I was in the hot seat.  

The old man set his sights on me.  The closer he would get to me, I would take two steps away from him.  I was trying not to be obvious, but pretty soon I was doing laps around the table in lightning speed to flee from the whistle man, and yet not blow our mission.  On about my sixth lap, I looked over at  my uncle and gave him the "hairy eyeball."  The one that specifically said loud and clear, "Are you serious!"  "Rescue me!"  Three more laps around the table, my eyebrow raised to my uncle clearly said, "Don't make me tell my dad, your older brother, that you didn't SAVE ME!"  My uncle was in a conundrum.  Abandon his niece in her time of need, or drive home in the car two hours with his wife who was whistle denied.  

This whole time, ironically, beautiful music was being made by my aunt as she played every one of those whistles hanging from the rafters.  I do mean every one of them!  

Evidently the whistle man was growing tired of the cat and mouse game and announced he was parched and needed a refill on his "special" water.  I quickly saw this as my escape opportunity to flee, even though I was more terrified to go to the old house and what I would encounter there.  My uncle was relieved too, as it let him off the hook to rescue me.  I was told the "water" was on the screened porch, and I was instructed to refill his jug.  Well, I did not want to let my aunt down, so I swallowed my fear and marched to the old house.

Once inside the back screen door, I was shocked.  The floor boards were missing in spots and I could see the ground beneath my feet.  There was so much stuff, I didn't know where to look.  I didn't know what the special water was, so I didn't know what to look for.  I could see out the porch windows, my uncle in the shed, and I was jumping up and down waving my arms frantically to get his attention, careful not to put my foot thru the floorboard.  But my attempts were futile.  I was on  my own, left with this sinking feeling.  I couldn't go back out and say I couldn't find it, because that may make the whistle man upset.  I was wrestling with the morality of distributing alcohol to a man who clearly had a problem, but I loved my aunt and I told myself, "girl, you can do this!"  "She needs her whistles!"

Somehow I found some plastic jugs.  None of them marked "special" water by the way.  Nor were they marked moonshine, but they smelled funny and I filled his mug and marched back to the shed.

We left with three whistles.

I tell you this story because it is funny.  I tell you this story because it is crazy!  But there is another reason.  A reason that rings true to me today as I look back at this experience.  I would do anything, push through anything, rise to the occasion, persevere through difficult situations, and face fear, for the people I love.  I did it then, I do it now, and I would do it in the future.  What is important to them is important to me. If in any way I can help them or aid them, I will.  

So I find myself asking myself, "How far would I go to secure my relationship with Jesus?"  Would I give up comfortable?  Would I allow myself to be put in situations that threatened my safety and security?  Would I give up my cool image and allow myself to be uncomfortable for my belief and trust in Jesus?

Do I care as much about letting Jesus down, as i do about letting people down?  Do I care about what Jesus thinks more than I care about what other people think?  

Would I give up the known, to venture into territories that make me think, leave me questioning and wrestling with choices?  Would I step out in faith, and trust what I have no experience in? Would I openly face my fears and ultimately conquer them for the reward of serving my King?

What about my pride?  Would I lay down my self centered focus on myself and what others think of me, to follow what Jesus says about me?  Would I give up control to manipulate the outcome that I want, to have the outcome that Jesus desires?  Would I risk looking silly or soft, to have a relationship with Jesus?  

The whistles that I was so willing to secure for my aunt, were one of a kind, unique, precious beautifully crafted, masterpieces.  Like those whistles, my relationship with Jesus is something that can never be duplicated or imitated.  It is a one of kind, special, most precious, and masterfully created relationship.  There is no greater prize than his love.  

I want to be a person who lives on the edge for Jesus.  I want to be a person who would do anything and be everything that Jesus calls me to be.  Yes, my whistle man story is a funny story, one I will not soon forget.  Because it taught me a great lesson.  It brought to my attention the great lengths we will go to for the ones we love.  If I love Jesus, what great lengths will I go to in securing a right relationship with him?  At the end of the day it will not be "just" three whistles I walk away with.  It will be all the grace and mercy and blessings that only a life filled with Jesus can offer.

Summer Realities

I always looked to summer with a great anticipation.  I couldn't wait for the kids to be out of school and our lives to change dramatically.  There was a simplicity to summer that I craved.  No shaking the kids our of bed in the morning when it took so long to get them there in the first place the night before.  No rushing around with school papers, backpacks, school lunches and "i missed the bus" routines.  No after school practice, lessons, school meetings or science fair projects presented and due the next day.  In a way, life slowed down in the summer.  There were endless days of waking up and saying, "what do I want to do today?"  I purposely planned it that way because lets face it, keeping five little lives in motion, constantly, is a lot of work.  But my carefree summer sabbatical was not exactly a vacation from busyness.  Having my two grandchildren stay with me for the last week brought all those summer memories flooding back to me.  

Summer it seems is a bit like childbirth.  You forget how it really is, and only recall the gift your efforts received.  So here is my list of summer realities and the gifts they produce.

ENDLESS LAUNDRY

All summer long my washer and dryer are on overtime.  It's the endless trips to the pool with endless beach towels, getting crunchy in the dry heat of Arizona.  The ones that can stand up on their own, the ones that no one wants to wrap around their body until they are washed and dried and soft and fluffy again.  It's the wet bathing suits that no human can pull over their body, let alone over a squirmy child's arms and legs.  It's quiet possibly the endless Popsicles that drip down their chin onto their shirts and their stickiness gets wiped onto their shorts.  It's the blankie that gets dragged to the pool, through the desert dirt, and used to mop up the melted Popsicle on the floor.  But here is the gift.  When the children are tucked into bed and I'm folding the last beach towel and bathing suit, I play back in my mind the glorious adventures of a day well spent splashing and basking in the summer sun.   All the memories that were created, and all the laughter that was shared are tucked away in my heart.

SUNRISE, SUNSET

The summer days are long, but the nights are short.  It's hard to convince a three year old that it's bedtime, when the sun is still shining brightly overhead.  My feeble attempts to point out the hands on the clock, do nothing to persuade them of their impending bedtime.  It simply makes no sense to their internal clockwork, and they are convinced it is all part of an evil scheme to trick them.  If that wasn't bad enough, the sun decides to rise at 4:45 am and once again the children are convinced it is "day" and they are up and ready to roll!  No amount of room darkening shades can counteract this terrible injustice.  This is intuitive in every small brain.  But here is the gift.  As I rise at 5 am and am greeted by their cheery smiles, I cannot help but feel blessed.  Grateful for a new day to share adventures with these small creatures that are full of hope, expectations and the belief that this day is going to be glorious!

THE OVERWORKED DISHWASHER

Every summer I am reminded that one, I have too many dishes, and two that I need a new dishwasher.  Why my children/grandchildren think they need a new glass every time they get a drink of water is beyond me.  the endless snacking that occurs in summer also requires a new bowl or dish.  But here is the gift.  As I am unloading the dishwasher for the third time in a day, and I am placing all the "kids" cups in their cubbies, I get a sense of how lucky I am.  Blessed that I have so much.  Blessed that my children are well fed, and taken care of.

STICKY SUNSCREEN

Don't ever ask me to apply sunscreen to your back.  I only know how to squeeze one amount from the tube.  that amount is exactly what it takes to completely slather one small child from ear to toes.  I learned this skill because no child likes sunscreen, and you don't get a second chance to go back for more from the tube.  And let's face it.  Sunscreen feels grose.  It leaves this sticky residue on your hands and body.  But here is the gift.  At the end of the day when the kids are worn out from playing in the sun, and they snuggle up in my lap, the faint scent of sunscreen linger on their skin.  All the great memories of our summer fun dance in my heart.

I have photographs to remind me of all the summer fun actives and memories of the carefree summers of the past.  But ironically, it's the tasks of summer and the smells of summer that take me back to the moments of summer.

 

My Search For Significance

I may be one of a very people on this planet in America, that did not grow up with Saturday morning cartoons.  Not because we didn't have a T.V.  Not because we lived in the Ozark Mountains and had no reception.  Not because we did not have electricity, or my parents forgot to pay the cable bill.  It was simply because my parents came from a long line of farm stock and Saturdays were chore days.  ALL DAY!  It didn't matter that we lived smack dab in the middle of the big city.  It didn't matter that all we had was one dog, or that we got our bread, milk and vegetables at the grocery store down the street.  Now, you might be thinking, "Then how many chores could you really have?"  Well, it was a mystery then as much as now, but I'm telling you the list NEVER ended!  

My parents were born in the Great Depression.  They watched their parents, their neighbors, work, scrape and do anything they could to feed their families and keep clothes on their bodies.  They grew up with a strong work ethic, and their significance and survival came from all they could do.  

I can recall when I had 3 young children at home and one permanently implanted at my hip, and my mom would call me on the phone.  Inevitably she would always ask, "What did you get done today?"  I wanted to yell, "NOTHING, I simply sat on the couch and drank coffee and watched dust collect on my coffee table."  But instead I felt a pang of guilt.  Had I done enough?  Checked enough boxes that day?  Was I worthy?  Was I significant?

So when I had my own children I wanted it to be different.  I didn't want their significance to come from how much they could perform, get done and an endless task of chores that never would get checked off.  It was Saturday morning cartoons for our house.  And it was me, Mom, running around completing all the tasks and chores it took to run a household of 7.  Because being a person who got their value from "doing"  I never minded doing it all.  I was filled to the brim with significance.  I was indispensable.  Only now do I realize what I have done.

There is a difference between finding your significance in performing and serving, and serving out of a grateful heart.  One fills a void in you, the other fills a void in others.  I may have rescued my children from living a life believing that they are only as good as what they can produce, but I robbed them, and me, of an important balance.

By doing everything I was still feeding the monster of "I am only valuable if I perform."  I was also robbing my children of Colossians 3:23.  "In all the work you are doing, work the best you can.  Work as if you were doing it for the Lord, not people."  If they are to learn this and grow into  young adults, get married and teach their children, why am I not modeling this in my home?

Why?  Because I only felt as good as my to do list said I was.  But I am learning I am so much more than what I got done today.  Because today maybe was the day I sat and rocked my one year old grand-baby, or spent the day outside in the garden with my grandson watching and marveling at the dragonflies and bumble bees.

God put Adam and Eve in the garden and then instructed them to work it and take care of it. Genesis 2:15.   God knew honest hard work was good for our soul.  Not because it made us worthy, but because it made us holy.

My search for significance was not born out of the powerful truths of scripture.  Instead I allowed my self esteem, security and purpose, to be dictated by worldly sources.  And these rewards fulfilled me for a short time, but they soon turned into an urgency to perform again to seek the same approval.  

But I do remember a time when working hard was a blessing.  This time in my life was the summers I spent on my aunt and uncles farm in Minnesota.  Unlike my "big" city life, the country life was a drastic contrast.  There were eggs to collect, potatoes to peel, and endless dishes to wash and dry by hand.  When we were roused early from our slumber, we grumbled and complained of walking the bean fields to pull the weeds that sprang up.  But here is what remains from my summer memories.  The countless dishes we washed and dried four times a day, bonded us.  The endless chatter and sharing, laughing and teasing, gave us community and closeness.  The bean fields that we walked in those early hours were full of jokes, pranks and so much laughter.  Even to this day we laugh about those silly milkweeds.  We were many hands working together to make a family.  We fell into bed at night exhausted and satisfied. And this is where I learned the value in the fourth commandment.  "Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy.  For six days you shall  labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God.  On it you shall not do any work. Exodus 20:8

Sundays were looked to with great anticipation.  There was always more chores that could have been done, but my family kept the holiness in the Sabbath.  There was balance to working for the Lord, and resting in the Lord.  This was God's design.

So as i sift through my to do list, I remember the difference in working hard for the greater purpose, and working hard to be admired by others.  Significance comes from honoring what God has called me to do.  It is His to do list that becomes my priority.  

I was a mama who accepted and lived with the stress of an overwhelmed schedule.  Too many things to do, not enough time.  What I was really living with was a soul  that ached.  I knew that there was more that God made me to do, and I yearned to do it, if only I could get some of the things off my to do list!!!  He is showing me step by step now, how to honor the time that He is giving me.  To direct my path to work as if I am working for the Lord.  And truly that significance fills my soul with peace and joy! 

The Open Door

I do great under crisis.  When there is a problem I get right on it.  I stay calm, cool and collected and get right down to business.  I can usually undo, fix, or figure out anything.  Almost.  Except when I can't.

And for me, these are faith issues, and I struggle with them.  A lot!  For a mom with 5 kids, and endless opportunities to hone my skills, you would think I would have a handle on this by now. But it always hits my blindside.  In fact it ALWAYS takes quite a while for it to register on my radar as a faith issue.

I have this visual in my head.  I'm in a old house, upstairs.  There is a great long hallway with many doors.  (I know sounds kind of like an institution, but hey, this is my visual so it's a house.)  I am walking down the hallway trying to open doors.  Can I pick the lock?  Is it just stuck?  What if I push harder?  Can I break it down, kick it in?  Is there a key hidden somewhere?  I think I will look around for the key.......  And so it goes, me trying in my own strength and mind, to go through a door.  Why not just stop to look around to find the open door?  Why?  The why is because I think no one is going to come ridding in on the white horse and rescue me. " If it's to be, it's up to me."  I have learned to push through pain, overcome obstacles, and at times sand off a square peg to fit in that round hole.  Now in my exhaustion,  I look back on my life, and I picture God sitting back with a heavy sign and saying, "Okay my beautiful warrior child, let me know when your done so I can show you the easy way." 

God has a path for me, a plan for me.  Instead of trying to do my own will, why don't I do his?  God can and is willing to do all the heavy lifting, and yet my pride and self reliance always get in the way.  God is not a back up plan.  God is the plan!

God does not put obstacles in my way, I do.  I spend so much time running around and being busy, and trying to force my will and my way, that I don't see what God is doing.  I don't see the open door.

If you, like me, are trying by your own strength and force, to blaze through the tall grass and shrubs, may I give you the pep talk I'm giving myself.  Again....

God has a path laid out before you and me.  Yes, some of it is uphill, but when we are too tired, He will offer us rest.  When the storms come and the rain beats down on us, He will be our refuge.  When we simply cannot move one more step, He will carry us.  We do not have to go it alone.  And those locked doors?  They may be locked for a reason.  They may simply be a distraction at best, or they may be locked for our protection.  Not unlike unanswered prayers, they may be a blessing in disquise, and something we just can't see from where we are at.

I trust you God, to direct my steps.  I will keep my eyes on you.  When I start to lose my way today Lord, help me to remember that your plans are bigger than my dreams.  

What I Learned From My Father

For 50 years my dad has stood before me, stood beside me and stood behind me.  He has never fought a battle I could fight.  Instead, he taught me to be a warrior.  He taught me to pick my battles, let things go and forgive, even when I didn't want to.  He is constantly changing my perspective to one of grace and mercy.  He taught me to stand my ground, but more importantly he taught me how to retreat, regroup, and be a survivor.  

I learned from my father that happiness is a choice, not a destination.  With every phone call in the morning and I say, "good morning," he responds, "and a beautiful morning it is."  He sees a thousand ways a day, that God is good.  He notices the little things that others pass by, like a flower blooming amidst the rocks, or a raindrop caught on a spiders web.  He declares these "gifts" good, and happiness is born.  My dad inspires me to live a life like that.  I want my eyes to see God's beauty everywhere, everyday, in a thousand simple ways.  I want to choose happiness.

I love that my dad's birthday is so close to Thanksgiving.  Sometimes it even falls on Thanksgiving.  As I am preparing the week of Thanksgiving and thinking of all the things I am thankful for, my dad is right there in my thoughts.  Fifty years of Thanksgiving is not enough time to fully honor the gift that God has given me, my dad.  Every year I am thankful for one more year with my father.  One more year of coffee and pie in the mornings.  One more year of sitting beside him at one of my children's plays.  One more year of, "and a beautiful morning it is."

A toast to my father.  thank you for being God's beautiful gift to me.  Thank you for teaching me that when I can't see the hand of God, I have to trust the heart of God.

Copy of Beautifully and Wonderfully Made

There are age old expressions that get passed down from generation to generation. Like, "Oh for Pete's sake."  I mean who is Pete?  And whats the story behind Pete?  Well the other night I made the comment, "They beat to their own drum" and a young girl looked at me all serious and asked, "What does that mean?"  After I had explained the age old saying I thought to myself, that's me.  I have always felt different.  Looking around at other girls, then women, I have seen myself as set apart.  Not quite fitting the mold everyone else seemed to so easily fill.  And honestly I have felt most comfortable being.... well, me.  That is until I see myself through someone else's eyes.  Then I feel like an odd duck.  A contrast to the norm, and doubt and fear step in.

But the truth is, I am just the way God created me to be.  Just like you, I am made perfect for the purpose that he created in me and to do the works he intended me to do.  

As women we are particularly vulnerable to fear, because we care, because we love, and because God's design for woman was to be a nurturer, a helper, and a caretaker.  But the bible tells us that "There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear."  I John 4:18.  We feel fear when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable.  But our vulnerability is part of what makes us women.  It enables us to love with fierceness, protect relationships, feel deep passion and to comfort and offer mercy to others.  It's the ability to  be the mama bear to protect our offspring and the fight in us that protects the heart.  The flip side is that when you love, you are vulnerable to loss, exposure and abandonment.  

Society says "you are plain."  Jesus says, "You are more than."

Society says, "You are too much."  Jesus says, "You are beautifully and wonderfully made."

How God created you is essential to accomplishing his purpose for your life.  We all have a point at which we choose which evidence to believe.  Do we rely on the masses to tell us who we are?  Do we rely on the image in the dressing room mirror?  Or do we look up to God and let him tell us what is real?  As women we need to listen to God's spirit more than we listen to society.

It's not an easy assignment.  And I can attest to that.  I struggle when the tv and media parade women around and say, "This is who you should be."  I struggle when men believe it.  I struggle to be seen as "more than", when others only see the outside of me.  I struggle when people compare me to others, or expect me to "feel" like others feel.  I beat to my own drum, but sometimes I just want a band to back me up.

But what I am learning is, God designed me on purpose and equipped me, just as I am, for my journey.  No one else is designed like me because no one else was created to do what he wants me to do.  I can stop feeling like I don't measure up, and you can too.  If you have been feeling different than everyone else, then take a breath.  God did that on purpose!  No one has what you have to offer the world.  Even your little corner of it.  

We as women strive for perfection.  Perfection seems like the best security against rejection.  If our house is spotless and our jeans fit just right, and we show the perfect smile, perfect flowing hair, who wouldn't love us, right?  But God says, " My special beautiful daughter, you do not have to be perfect, because you are already loved perfectly by me."

 

Beautifully and Wonderfully Made

There are age old expressions that get passed down from generation to generation. Like, "Oh for Pete's sake."  I mean who is Pete?  And whats the story behind Pete?  Well the other night I made the comment, "They beat to their own drum" and a young girl looked at me all serious and asked, "What does that mean?"  After I had explained the age old saying I thought to myself, that's me.  I have always felt different.  Looking around at other girls, then women, I have seen myself as set apart.  Not quite fitting the mold everyone else seemed to so easily fill.  And honestly I have felt most comfortable being.... well, me.  That is until I see myself through someone else's eyes.  Then I feel like an odd duck.  A contrast to the norm, and doubt and fear step in.

But the truth is, I am just the way God created me to be.  Just like you, I am made perfect for the purpose that he created in me and to do the works he intended me to do.  

As women we are particularly vulnerable to fear, because we care, because we love, and because God's design for woman was to be a nurturer, a helper, and a caretaker.  But the bible tells us that "There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear."  I John 4:18.  We feel fear when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable.  But our vulnerability is part of what makes us women.  It enables us to love with fierceness, protect relationships, feel deep passion and to comfort and offer mercy to others.  It's the ability to  be the mama bear to protect our offspring and the fight in us that protects the heart.  The flip side is that when you love, you are vulnerable to loss, exposure and abandonment.  

Society says "you are plain."  Jesus says, "You are more than."

Society says, "You are too much."  Jesus says, "You are beautifully and wonderfully made."

How God created you is essential to accomplishing his purpose for your life.  We all have a point at which we choose which evidence to believe.  Do we rely on the masses to tell us who we are?  Do we rely on the image in the dressing room mirror?  Or do we look up to God and let him tell us what is real?  As women we need to listen to God's spirit more than we listen to society.

It's not an easy assignment.  And I can attest to that.  I struggle when the tv and media parade women around and say, "This is who you should be."  I struggle when men believe it.  I struggle to be seen as "more than", when others only see the outside of me.  I struggle when people compare me to others, or expect me to "feel" like others feel.  I beat to my own drum, but sometimes I just want a band to back me up.

But what I am learning is, God designed me on purpose and equipped me, just as I am, for my journey.  No one else is designed like me because no one else was created to do what he wants me to do.  I can stop feeling like I don't measure up, and you can too.  If you have been feeling different than everyone else, then take a breath.  God did that on purpose!  No one has what you have to offer the world.  Even your little corner of it.  

We as women strive for perfection.  Perfection seems like the best security against rejection.  If our house is spotless and our jeans fit just right, and we show the perfect smile, perfect flowing hair, who wouldn't love us, right?  But God says, " My special beautiful daughter, you do not have to be perfect, because you are already loved perfectly by me."

 

Moms Know Everything

When my children were young I was outnumber five to one.  Plus my oldest child was super smart.  (unfortunately he didn't get that from me.)  Lots of times  he was correcting me, and by the 4th grade I couldn't even help him with his math homework.  So thank God he never asked!!!!!  But, I was the leader of my little pack, so I had a logo.  Whenever the kids asked me a question and I would answer, they would say, "How do you know?"  And I would reply, "Because Moms know everything."  It didn't take them long to get where every question was heading.  I would say, "Cuz Moms," and they would banter back, "Know everything."

We had other mantras in our house like, "We love our bread, we love our butter, but most of all, "we love each other."  (I seriously considered changing that to "we love our mother) but for the most part they were always kind to me, but not necessarily to each other.  We also had the mantra "To know and not to do..... is NOT to know."

As my kids got older and the questions got harder, I realized I didn't have the answer.  As much as I wanted to know, some questions were just too complicated, too hard, or were something they needed to decide on their own.  So, as a mom with adult children I found myself saying, "I don't know."  And I felt like I had let them down.  After all, Moms know everything.

It lead me to some soul searching.  And what I found is that the older I get the less I know.  And that is not necessarily a bad thing.  At first I was putting everything in an I don't know basket. (Anyone who has been to my house knows that I love baskets.  They are so good at holding all the things your not quite sure what to do with.) But eventually I learned to put all of my "I don't knows" into a "God basket."  

I think as a mom and a leader of my tribe, I felt like I had to know everything.  And honestly most of the time I didn't.  But God does.  I don't know why people say and do what they do.  I don't know why people are suffering and cancer and Alzheimers are stealing away precious people from our lives.  But God does.  He is still on the thrown and he is ultimately the leader of my tribe.  And so I tell my children now, who are young adults navigating through this crazy life, that "I don't know, BUT God does."  Take it to him because ultimately he has the answers.  He doesn't have baskets that he stores the things he doesn't know what to do with.  He is omniscient and omnipresent and he knows all things.  

When the bible says God is omniscient it means that He has perfect knowledge of all things.  God does not have to reason things out, find out things, or learn them gradually.  His knowledge is absolute and unaquired.  The psalmist wrote of God's infinite knowledge, "Great is the Lord, and mighty in power, His understanding is infinite." Psalms 147:5  

With this knowledge of God's omniscience came the realization that there is no question too big or too awkward to ask God.  God doesn't cringe at a question presented to him, like sometimes as a mother I can.  God can handle the big ones and the difficult ones.  It is in this basis of my faith in such a God, that this mom can rest, assured in his mighty strength and knowledge that he has those answers that elude me.

I guess after all, Mom's do know everything if they point to their heavely Father and say...  He knows.  Go ask your Father....

 

The Happy Meal Reveal

When my kids were  young, oh how they loved a "happy meal" from McDonalds!  Well, I got the privilege of introducing my grand-kids to the thrill of the "Happy Meal"!  As we sat down at the kitchen table to eat, my grandson reached his little hand over to mine and with a gentle smile and a pat on my hand, exclaimed, "Grandma, I am soooooo happy!"  I patted his little hand and a smile crossed my lips,  "Aw he is so happy because he is with me."  "Oh he is so happy because he has this great big family and feels so loved."  And then I had to open my mouth and lose the moment when I asked him why.  He set his french fry down and looked directly at me like I was crazy.  "Because Grandma, I have a HAPPY meal."  It wasn't that the happy meal made him happy, it was because the name told him he WAS happy.  I loved his simplistic mind, and today I wanted someone to tell me happiness was as simple as eating a food that was named "happy."

So what's the secret to happiness and whats the difference in being joyful as opposed to happy?  I set on a quest to see what God says about it.  

Happiness is an emotion that is derived from our external circumstances.  Happiness is based upon happenings, meaning things that happen to you.  If things happen to go well we have this great feeling of happiness.  But if it happens to go bad, our happiness is gone too.  We are happy when we get an A on a test.  Happy when we get an unexpected check in the mail.  We are happy when someone wraps their arms around us and tells us they love us.  Feeling happy is a response to something good happening to us.  Not so with joy.

Feeling joyful is something that comes from within you and is more consistent.  It is manifested by loving who you are, embracing who you are, and accepting how you are.  Joyfulness comes from God, it is a hope, a knowing, it is an attitude of the heart.

You can be happy and have joy, but happiness is dependent upon circumstances, joy is not.  Here is why.  Before Jesus went to Calvary, he said, "  These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be full."  John 15:11.  "You will have sorrow now, but I will see you again and your heart will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you."  John 16:20  Jesus went to the cross to make sure joy would be complete.  Then Jesus reassures them that no one can take that joy away.  This is a permanent possession not a fleeting moment like happiness is.  He continues to say that today you will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn to joy.  

The best example I have in my own life is when my brother passed away after a grueling battle with cancer.  There was no happiness.  I remember saying my last goodbyes, tears streaming down my face.  I looked up into the doorway to see my father with tear soaked face, smiling.  There was no happiness in that moment.  Our hearts were broken.  We would miss him.  He would never get to see his children graduate, get married and have children of their own.  But my dads face was full of joy.  Joy because my brother would no longer be tormented with the ravagings of cancer, and he would be received into Heaven where his suffering would be no more.  Happiness is not much help in this circumstance but joy is.  We know we will see him again and that gives us great joy that no one can take from us.  Even though mixed with grief, the joy remains.

My circumstances in my life will not always make me feel happy. I don't want to live my life as a happiness junkie, always looking for my next fleeting dose.  Because looking to other people or to other circumstances to make me feel happy is never going to turn out well.  God is the only one who can fill my joy bucket.  He promises to make my cup full.  

My grandson was not too far off the map when he believed he was happy because the food he was eating told him he was.  God promises us joy.  "You will make known to me the path of life, in your presence is fullness of joy.  In your right hand there are pleasures forever."  Psalms 16:11.  We too should believe we are full of joy because God said it is so.  Let's just call it the "Joyful Meal."