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The good, the bad and the ugly tirade

January 24, 2012 By Leave a Comment
images

And now, it’s time for a status report on our move from homeschooling to partnering with a University Model School.

The Good

My daughter’s teachers ROCK!  They genuinely love their students and have all been so welcoming to our entire family.  They are encouraging and helpful, respond to my endless emailed questions in a timely manner, and have extended grace as we adjust to this change.  My daughter is already participating in group work, which was one of the main draws for us.  Our “only” child needed to learn how to work with other students toward a common goal.  Our UMS is meeting this need as well as others: the chapel program has been nothing short of phenomenal, and I’ve sat in wonder as I watched my daughter decide to join her new classmates in a fourteen day fast so she, too, can spend the time getting closer to the Lord.  My mouth dropped in shock when she opted to fast from candy.

Now, for some people this wouldn’t matter…but my child had developed a (not-so-healthy) habit of “needing” a bite of this particular chocolate to get through the long, grueling school assignments.  Thanks to this fast, she’s forgoing the sugar high.  I’m pleased that her spiritual life is growing at the same time as her social and academic lives.

The Bad

Twelve hour at-home work days. Waking up early. Miscommunication with teachers. No friends yet.  Being excluded from group work. These are all part of our learning curve.  For the most part, my daughter isn’t experiencing any bad feelings at all about the switch (except perhaps for that first five or ten minutes when her alarm clock goes off in the wee hours of the morning and when student groups are chosen and she’s left out).  Mamma Bear is the one who is experiencing some…turbulence….through this transition. I’m realizing just how high I have set the bar for my daughter. I expect her to learn, and I expect her to perform with excellence on all her assignments.  These expectations place a huge load not just on her shoulders, but on my own.  I thought that I would treasure these at-home days with my daughter.  However, the reality is that my hair has gotten much grayer, my back muscles have gotten tighter, and my frown lines are getting deeper.  Why is it that she does all the work, but I am the one who feels like the Mac truck rolled over, backed up, and spun its wheels over me?

Which leads me to…

The Ugly

I am a control freak when it comes to…well….pretty much everything, but ESPECIALLY when it comes to education.  Because I am a teacher myself, it is excruciating to cede academic decisions over to someone else.  In my daughter’s case, I have ceded control over to four Somebody’s.  I know in my head that this is GOOD.  My daughter needs to know how to work hard for other people besides me, her very own personal Seven of Nine.

Me: You missed one problem on your math quiz.

Daughter: I got one of the highest scores in the class.

Me: I am proud of your score, but I want to make sure you understand the concept. Let’s work the problem out to see where you made your mistake. Resistance is futile.

(Okay, so maybe I didn’t say “Resistance is futile.”  But I did think it! Ha!)

The problem I am having with ceding control over to other teachers is that I know I will not always agree with their opinions.  Yet, by enrolling my daughter at this school, I have effectively signed a blank check over to them in terms of educational content and standards. “Mother knows best” is no longer true.  Although I am technically labeled a “co-teacher,” in the school linguistics, I’m really only about one fifth of a teacher…much less than the half teacher connotation given by the prefix “co.”  That smarts.  I do not have the final say any longer.  Those of you who do not homeschool will understand why this just kills me.  If one of my students correctly completed an element for an assignment by hand rather than using a worksheet, I would likely award EXTRA credit for effort rather than dock the student for using an incorrect format.  To me, if the information submitted by the student is correct, the assignment is correct.  But my standards are not applicable all over the world, since I am no longer Queen of her educational world.

Forgive my tirade. It’s been one of the hardest days of my mommy career.  I have wept, thrown things, yelled, accidentally left a burner going on the stove for an entire hour and generally acted like a toddler while my daughter looked on in amazement at my curious and slightly scary behavior. Perhaps I am experiencing a bit of post hysterectomy rage, if there is such a thing, but I swear earlier today I felt like I could crawl out of my own skin.

Look up UGLY in the dictionary, and my picture would be right there, front and center.

Interestingly, I have not once mentioned the Lord in this post…but rest assured my entire day has been made up of mental prayers and pleas for help.  I guess He was with me — even in the middle of my tantrum — because I’m still here, I haven’t gone crazy, the house didn’t burn down, and my daughter’s assignments are complete and ready for tomorrow. Phew!

For that, I must thank HIM.  If it were up to me, we would have boarded a plane and flown to South Florida.

Filed Under: anxiety, homeschooling Tagged With: , , ,

Teacher-In-Chief

January 23, 2012 By Leave a Comment
office of the principal

Is anyone in our country above the law?

Apparently our esteemed national leaders consider laws beneath them when those laws do not serve their purposes…and I am beyond angry at the ludicrous way our leaders keep breaking their own laws.

Let’s start at the top, shall we?

President Obama is violating the 1974 Budget Act for the third year in a row.  I guess the IRS will give me an extension on my taxes if I decide I need a few more weeks to “finalize decisions and technical details.”  WRONG!  If my daughter decides she needs an extra few weeks to turn in her research paper, her teacher will give her a ZERO for a grade.  But President Obama is not the only president to casually set aside laws that are inconvenient…his predecessor President Bush set aside laws as well.  I hold my elected officials to an extremely high standard of excellence…all of them.  I was not happy with President Bush’s choices, and I am not thrilled with President Obama’s, either.  Our President, of all people, should be the first in line to obey every law….according to our Constitution, the President’s job is to ENFORCE the laws!  How can a person who does not obey the law enforce it without being hypocritical?

And then we have our esteemed Senators who have ALSO failed to obey the law as set out in the 1974 Budget Act.  In fact, tomorrow marks the 1,000th day that the Senate has gone without any budget at all.  I’d say that deserves at least, oh, 100,000 ZEROs.

If I was Teacher-In-Chief, I would haul President Obama and the entire Senate to the principal’s office for an expulsion meeting.  Every single one of them…of ALL political persuasions…deserve to be kicked out of office simply by their failure to comply with the laws of our nation.  If our lawmakers and law enforcers are so blatantly disregarding our laws with zero consequences, then the rest of our nation will follow.  They have failed abysmally in leadership.  Unfortunately, most of We the People don’t really notice. Those few who do notice are more apt to mimic their illegal behavior than demand accountability when they see our “leaders” breaking the law.

Let this be a notice to my own elected officials: if you break the law, I will FAIL you by voting against you. As a taxpaying voter, this is my right — but it is also my responsibility.  Checks and balances in the constitution also extend to you and me.  We have a job — holding our elected representatives accountable…and the only way to do this is at the ballot box.

Now where did I put my paddle?

Filed Under: politics Tagged With: , ,

Diggin’ for Water

January 20, 2012 By Leave a Comment
water

Water — no one disputes the truth that water is essential for life.  Without it, our rivers and wells run dry.  Livestock, other animals, and crops perish during times of devastating drought. A human can only live a few days without it.  Even as I write these words, people are dying in many parts of this world because their waters have run dry.

Yet there is another place beyond this living world that we can see and touch that requires another kind of water. Jesus spoke of this kind of mysterious water when he encountered a woman at a well.

“7 Soon a Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Please give me a drink.” 8 He was alone at the time because his disciples had gone into the village to buy some food. 9 The woman was surprised, for Jews refuse to have anything to do with Samaritans.[b] She said to Jesus, “You are a Jew, and I am a Samaritan woman. Why are you asking me for a drink?”10 Jesus replied, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water…13 …Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again. 14 But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life.” (From John 4, NLT)

Just look at that gorgeous water.  Every time I see this photo, I move back in time to this moment.  I feel the refreshing foam as it washes sand away from my bare feet.  I smell the salty breeze, and everything in my spirit feels renewed.  Sunsets over the Gulf of Mexico are breathtakingly beautiful as they seem to reflect God’s glory spreading over the waves.  Yet the tiny bit of heaven captured in this photo can’t compare to the living water Jesus gives to those who ask.

Over the past few seasons, I have felt shut off from the living water. I still went through the motions of what I thought I needed to do to be a “good” Christian: going to church, reading my Bible, praying, helping those in need.  Oh, but on the inside — I wince to think of what my heart looks like to the One who sees all.  Inside my heart has been a wasteland of dry, stinging sand.  Picture this:

and you’ll see a snapshot of the interior of my heart.  See those tufts of dried up vegetation?  Fears.  Those dried up old bones are my bones, sore and weary from this journey through fibromyalgia and the weird, undefined autoimmune disease.  The jagged rocks are thoughts that creep in…thoughts that contradict the very Word of God.  No wonder I’ve been feeling trapped in a wasteland.  I have allowed myself to become a rock head….er, a blockhead!

Charlie Brown listened to Lucy and ended up flat on his back. When I listen to my own “Lucy-like” thoughts, I end up just like Charlie Brown…down on myself, down on my future, down on my fears, down on my life.  However, I have Something a cartoon character doesn’t have: Jesus.  And even in those times that I feel surrounded by an empty desert, God’s Word tells me there is a fresh, bubbling spring of Living Water within me. Over the past few days I’ve realized something fresh and new: filling my head with rocky thoughts did not dry out the spring. That vegetation in the desert photo of my heart is not dead.  In fact, it has roots that penetrate deeply beneath the rocky soil to reach fresh water so that when its season changes, it will bloom with new growth and life.

Suddenly, I realized that people like me who find themselves in a desert have a choice.  We can give up our hold on the ground, allowing our roots to wither, or we can send our roots deeper still into that bubbling spring, soaking in that living water that gives us eternal life.

We give up our grip on the ground when we stop seeking His water altogether…i.e., when we stop reading our Bible…when we stop going to church…when we stop praying…when we stop reaching out to show love to others. By cutting off all contact with God, our roots wither.

The prophet Jeremiah vividly describes people who have lost their trust in God, and his word picture looks a lot like the state of my heart over the past few seasons:

5 This is what the LORD says:
“Cursed are those who put their trust in mere humans,
who rely on human strength
and turn their hearts away from the LORD.
6 They are like stunted shrubs in the desert,
with no hope for the future.
They will live in the barren wilderness,
in an uninhabited salty land. (Jeremiah 17, NLT)

I’ve read those verses many times before but have not really connected them to my own heart.  Could it be that the very reason I feel as if I’ve been in a desert is because I have been relying on my own (or my doctors’) human strength rather than putting my confidence in the Lord?  I go to the doctor expecting him to be Dr. House with an entire team that has researched my strange case and come up with a strategy to cure my irritating ailments and end up feeling dismayed when he says “maybe your body will heal itself.”  I go to the therapist expecting her to wave a watch and turn back years of phobic thinking in just one session and end up feeling angry when she points out the “child-like” tenor of my phobic thoughts and pushes drugs, drugs, drugs to get my mind back on track. I experience another bout of stomach pain and lash out at myself and my inability to conquer a fear enough to go through with the standard medical treatment. In all these ways and more, I see I have been placing my trust and confidence in everyone BUT God.

However, I’m not beating myself up with Lucy thoughts about my lack of faith.  Instead, it seems that God is showing me that going through the motions while feeling stuck in the desert is not a bad tactic.  Every time we dig deep in to the Word of God (the Bible), we are tapping into the Word (Jesus). In fact, it is the very act of digging that revealed to me the truths I’ve found while writing this blog: Relying on humans = desert.  Relying on the Lord = refreshing, living, bubbling water.

But don’t take my word for it.  After describing the desert that people face when they put their hope in human strength alone, Jeremiah tells us what happens when people sink down their roots and put their hope – and confidence — in the Lord:

7 “But blessed are those who trust in the LORD
and have made the LORD their hope and confidence.
8 They are like trees planted along a riverbank,
with roots that reach deep into the water.
Such trees are not bothered by the heat
or worried by long months of drought.
Their leaves stay green,
and they never stop producing fruit.

Does your heart cry out for the living water, so you will not be bothered by the heat and long months of drought in your life? Sink your roots deeply into the Word, and you will find, as I am beginning to comprehend, that the Lord sees us in our present circumstances, reaches out His hand, and bids us,

“Drink!”

Filed Under: analysis, fibromyalgia, mercy, salvation Tagged With: , , , , ,

In Honor of Lt. Richard McBride

January 14, 2012 By Leave a Comment
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Dear Rich,

Twenty years ago today, you followed Christ to the end of your life on earth when you laid down your own to help save the lives of your fellow naval airmen.  I did not know you or your family then, but your life impacts mine in ways that neither of us could have dreamed.  You see, I met your little brother the same year you entered Jordan, only, at 6’2″, he wasn’t exactly little anymore!  A few years later, I married him and took your precious family to be my own.

I never met you, Rich, but you had a profound impact on your brother — I thank you for loving him and helping him grow into the man he is today.  The Christmas before you died, you gave him a Bible in which you wrote:

We hope you find the keys to future success through these pages.  All our Love…”

Less than one month later, your brother used that Bible as he addressed the crowd at your service.  A sticky note inside the Bible marks the place he used as a text that day and today.  You see, your favorite Bible verse rippled through his heart and still impacts the way he lives his life today.  Deuteronomy 29:29 was true that day just as it is true today:

The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law.”

I didn’t know you, Rich, but I feel as if I do know you when I think on that favorite verse of yours.  I see that you revered God’s holiness and righteousness.  I can tell that your daughter and then-yet-unborn son were vitally important to you.  You viewed it your responsibility to share what God’s law revealed to you to your children.

Speaking of children…your daughter and your son grew up into beautiful people who love the Lord.  Your gorgeous wife eventually remarried and added another daughter to the family. Your daughter’s inner beauty shines through her artistic endeavors — photography, painting, sketching, poetry, graphic design…she does it all with God-given talent.

And your son, who was born just a few months after you died, is studying biochemistry and is on track to follow his medical dreams. One day he’d like to serve as a missionary doctor.  It’s a privilege to know and love them both.  In a way, I learn a little about you through my interactions with this precious family you left behind.

But there are other ways that I am privileged to get to know you, in a roundabout way. My husband saved photos and letters from you that were written during your deployment, and browsing through them gives me an inkling of the kind of person you were. I like to think we would have been friends.  For sure you would have made me laugh — you and your brother apparently shared a similar sense of humor:

     

I snorted at your description of your part-time home as being the Land of Uncooked Shellfish.  Your niece also shares your propensity for humor and wit.  When she was only four years old and learned we were moving to Florida, she immediately renamed it The Land of No Shoes.  Her only experience thus far with Florida was a sunny, warm vacation that allowed her to traipse around barefoot.

The letters you wrote give me even more insight into your personality, and they also illustrate your love and concern for your family. I hope you don’t mind that I share a little of one of these letters here on my blog because I think your advice is applicable to all of us as we look ahead to the coming year.

Monday, 22 June

9:12 a.m.

I’ve been at sea now for some time and it has finally dawned on me that I have a younger brother who is about to embark on one of the great adventures of all time: your senior year in high school. I can’t help but be amazed at how swiftly time has passed as it seems like only last year that I was in your shoes. My, what a glorious, if not treacherous, time.

I suppose you are well into the summer by now and enjoying all that the season has to offer. You realize that I envy you as I sit on this floating piece of steel in the middle of the Indian Ocean. It would be heavenly to feel my toes dig into the sand and listen to the waves pound up on the beach again. Are you taking advantage of your windsurfer? I have a friend on board who windsurfs in Hawaii all the time. He’s a pretty radical character. He lives for those 25-30 knot trade winds. He’s offered to teach me how when we get back to Hawaii, so when you come over to see us we can go for it.

This cruise has been relatively uneventful thus far. We’ve spent a lot of time in Diego Garcia — a small island in the middle of the Indian Ocean which isn’t too bad considering we could have been out at sea during this time. I’ve managed to start getting into pretty good shape out here. I’ve been doing a lot of running, swimming, and lifting. I’m going to enter a few triathlons when I get back home. I thought I would take advantage of all the outdoor sports Hawaii has to offer. There’s also a 5 mile open ocean, rough water swim coming up that I plan on entering. I’ve managed to run three-four miles every other day followed by a 2000 meter swim (about 1.25 miles). It’s really relaxing when you get into it. Diego Garcia just had a 1 0K run last Saturday and I got 44th out of about 160 runners. I felt pretty good, though, because it was the first time I’d run hard since my knee operation, and it was my first 10K.

I guess you’ve done some thinking about where you might want to go to college. Mom said that you aced your SAT which is super. I just want to make a plug about schools in general. The most important service you can do yourself is to follow your own desires and goals. Make sure that you don’t do something for anyone but yourself when it comes to college selection, field of study, etc. 

There is nothing as disappointing as not enjoying where you are, or what you do. You’ll have to search your own heart and be honest with yourself, which may be not entirely comfortable, but you will benefit from it in the end. What is important is that you’ll have my support no matter what road you choose. And feel free to ask me anything about schools, etc. I’ve known people from the best schools and the worst schools, and have a few insights of my own.Well, I’ll close for now, but I promise to do better about writing in the future. Let me know what’s happening around the home front. And send me a picture if you can. You know that I’m behind you at all times, even though I’m far away a lot. Take care and be good. Support Mom and M. and Dad as much as possible. I love you!

Your “brudda,”

Rich

Well, Rich, I want you to know that your brudda has taken up your fitness torch and is running a half marathon for Team Red, White and Blue tomorrow at the Louisiana Marathon Race Expo, in honor of your sacrifice.  He will be carrying your flag in his backpack, so, in a way, you really will be behind him as he runs the race tomorrow.

I believe you’re behind him as he runs the race for Christ…and your wisdom and love are behind him still today.

Thank you, Rich, for your sacrifice.  I look forward to the day we will meet on the other side.

Filed Under: praise Tagged With: , , , ,

“Mathematical” Missions

January 12, 2012 By 2 Comments
math-image

Today I’m taking a wide angle lens view of a topic that was my least favorite in elementary school and is becoming more and more apparent to me in real life: division. Not long division or fractions or exponents, although as a part-time homeschooling mom I am learning more about those, too.  What I’m talking about is division in the body of Christ.

Let’s begin by defining the body of Christ.  I am not referring to his actual body that went into heaven.  In Scripture, the body of Christ is a metaphor for all of Christ’s followers. In Romans 12, we see the whole of Christ followers referred to as “one body”:

3 For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. 4 Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, 5 so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.

In another example, the apostle Paul wrote a lengthy metaphor to the Corinthians in which he compared the way our individual bodies have many working parts (hands, feet, head, etc) that together form one body to the way Christ followers serve each other in different ways (teaching, encouraging, leading, giving, serving) that together make up one “body” of believers:

12 The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ. 13 For we were all baptized by one Spirit into one body-whether Jews or Greeks, slave or free-and we were all given the one Spirit to drink.14 Now the body is not made up of one part but of many….But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, 25 so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. 26 If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. 1 Corinthians 12:12-13; 23-26

These verses and more like them are found all over the New Testament.  We believers are called to be One Body of believers..whether we are slave or free, Jew or Gentile.  One body.  No division.

Yet everywhere I turn, I see disturbing evidence of division within the Christian community, from the early days all the way to the present time.  Some of the early Christians in Corinth began arguing over which of the apostles they followed: Paul, or Apollos, or Peter, or James.

11 My brothers, some from Chloe’s household have informed me that there are quarrels among you. 12 What I mean is this: One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cephas[a]”; still another, “I follow Christ.”

13 Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized into[b] the name of Paul?

It is very tempting for us to latch onto a particular leader and elevate that person in our minds. We do this in politics to such an extent that the presidential primaries are more like Nascar races than sober deliberations of leadership — everybody wants to be on the winning team.  But when we do this in church, we are forgetting our oneness.  We are forgetting that we are above all called to put on LOVE and PEACE.

14 And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. 15 Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. 16 Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. Colossians 3:14-16

Today’s Christian leaders have different names, but the argument is the same.  Do you follow MacCarthy? or Graham? or MacArthur? or John Piper?  How about Beth Moore? T.D. Jakes? or Joyce Meyer?

Just as people’s political beliefs fall somewhere along of spectrum from super conservative all the way to super liberal, people’s beliefs about religion also fall on a spectrum.  There are those like MacArthur who preach that the gifts of the Holy Spirit are no longer active in these present times. These believers read these words of scripture from 1 Corinthians 13

8 Prophecy and speaking in unknown languages[b] and special knowledge will become useless. But love will last forever! 9 Now our knowledge is partial and incomplete, and even the gift of prophecy reveals only part of the whole picture! 10 But when the time of perfection comes, these partial things will become useless.

MacArthur and others on that side of religious spectrum believe the “time of perfection” mentioned above occurred when the Scriptures were officially canonized, or made official.  Then there are those in the other, charismatic camp who believe the “time of perfection” will not be attained until Jesus returns to the earth.

My take on this?  What does it matter?  Why do we argue and fuss over the meanings of words?

“What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You want something but don’t get it. You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight. You do not have, because you do not ask God.”  James 4: 1-2

Both sides could be right, and only the Lord himself knows what Paul truly meant when he penned those words to the Corinthians.  Whether I believe the time of perfection has come and gone or whether I believe it won’t be achieved until Christ returns does not trump the gospel message.  Period.

Lately it seems that members of one camp are lobbing word grenades at members of the other camp, disguised as an attempt to beware of false prophets.  Christians are prone to be as gullible as the next person, and we can easily be sucked up into the next “new” thing to hit the religious scene.  The Bible warns us to be on guard against false prophets.  In fact, we are even given a litmus test from Jesus, our ultimate authority:

15 “Beware of false prophets who come disguised as harmless sheep but are really vicious wolves. 16 You can identify them by their fruit, that is, by the way they act. Can you pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? 17 A good tree produces good fruit, and a bad tree produces bad fruit. 18 A good tree can’t produce bad fruit, and a bad tree can’t produce good fruit. 19 So every tree that does not produce good fruit is chopped down and thrown into the fire. 20 Yes, just as you can identify a tree by its fruit, so you can identify people by their actions.

So in personally evaluating whether a leader is a false leader or a true one, Jesus tells us to take a good look at their actions.  Not at whether they believe miracles still happen, or whether they are good speakers or organizers or efficient at raising money.  If a leader we trust takes in millions of dollars and buys a jet and a home in Switzerland while firing staff members due to insufficient funds….it’s a pretty good guess that the tree dressed as an apple isn’t really an apple tree.

Jesus had more to say on the issue of false prophets in the context of the end times in Matthew 28.  He again warned us to beware not just of false prophets, but also of those who claimed to be Him:

23 “Then if anyone tells you, ‘Look, here is the Messiah,’ or ‘There he is,’ don’t believe it. 24 For false messiahs and false prophets will rise up and perform great signs and wonders so as to deceive, if possible, even God’s chosen ones. 25 See, I have warned you about this ahead of time. 26 “So if someone tells you, ‘Look, the Messiah is out in the desert,’ don’t bother to go and look. Or, ‘Look, he is hiding here,’ don’t believe it! 27 For as the lightning flashes in the east and shines to the west, so it will be when the Son of Man[e] comes.

It’s clear we are to be on guard against false teachers rising up against us.  But if we look to the actions of those we listen to, we should be able to discern the truth. If their teachings bring us back to the truth about Jesus and confirm it, and if their lives reflect what they claim are their beliefs, then they are not speaking falsehoods.  John put it this way in 1John 4:

 1 Dear friends, do not believe everyone who claims to speak by the Spirit. You must test them to see if the spirit they have comes from God. For there are many false prophets in the world. 2 This is how we know if they have the Spirit of God: If a person claiming to be a prophet[a] acknowledges that Jesus Christ came in a real body, that person has the Spirit of God. 3 But if someone claims to be a prophet and does not acknowledge the truth about Jesus, that person is not from God. Such a person has the spirit of the Antichrist, which you heard is coming into the world and indeed is already here.

There has been some internet chatter from some Christians who say that last week’s Passion 2012 conference was chock-filled with mystic, meditative (evil) prayer and that many of the speakers, such as Beth Moore and John Piper, are being deceived themselves and are in turn leading thousands of Christians down the wrong path, particularly by leading contemplative prayer.  I read those words and was struck not by the evidence presented but by the caustic, cruel tone used by the author. I go back to the direction from Scripture that we are to “over all these virtues, put on love…”  There was no love evident in the blog post that I read.  Instead, I saw division….something else that Jesus warned against.

24 But when the Pharisees heard about the miracle, they said, “No wonder he can cast out demons. He gets his power from Satan,[d] the prince of demons.”

25 Jesus knew their thoughts and replied, “Any kingdom divided by civil war is doomed. A town or family splintered by feuding will fall apart. 26 And if Satan is casting out Satan, he is divided and fighting against himself. His own kingdom will not survive. 27 And if I am empowered by Satan, what about your own exorcists? They cast out demons, too, so they will condemn you for what you have said. 28 But if I am casting out demons by the Spirit of God, then the Kingdom of God has arrived among you. 29 For who is powerful enough to enter the house of a strong man like Satan and plunder his goods? Only someone even stronger—someone who could tie him up and then plunder his house.

I do not pretend to understand all the underlying theological arguments that any side of the religious spectrum wish to make.  Rather, I prefer to keep my mind occupied with simple truths that are found in Scripture.  All this backstabbing really accomplishes is division.  Because when it all comes down to it, only one thing matters:

Who is Jesus?

If you believe that Jesus is God’s son, that he suffered and died to pay the price for our sins; if you confess Him as Lord and Savior and repent of your sins…that is ALL that matters.  The battle for your soul has already been won, Christ is the victor, and you will share in the prize.  Those who prefer to use scriptures to help them model their prayers, and those who prefer to pray the Lord’s Prayer only, and those who pray without ceasing, casting prayers throughout the day as circumstances warrant, and those who go into a closet to privately pray — all of these practices do not have any bearing on the state of a person’s salvation.  If it did, Jesus would have told us so.  Instead, he said:

16 “For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. 17 God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him.

18“There is no judgment against anyone who believes in him. But anyone who does not believe in him has already been judged for not believing in God’s one and only Son. 19 And the judgment is based on this fact: God’s light came into the world, but people loved the darkness more than the light, for their actions were evil. 20 All who do evil hate the light and refuse to go near it for fear their sins will be exposed. 21But those who do what is right come to the light so others can see that they are doing what God wants.  John 3:16-21

In Christianity, it seems to me that our greatest “mathematical” missions are not division and subtraction, but rather are addition and multiplication.  We are about adding people to the fold…spreading the Good News, ultimately allowing the Lord to multiply the effects of love on a lean, mean, sinful world gone bleak due to division.

Filed Under: analysis, education, homeschooling, mercy, salvation Tagged With: , , , ,

Father (still) Knows Best

January 9, 2012 By Leave a Comment
CadiLCA

There was a moment (or maybe a few) when I was pregnant with my daughter that I hoped I’d have twins.  I had one of those strange “feelings” that one child was all I would ever have.  It was more than one of those “You did this to me!” moments directed towards my husband.  Rather, it was an internal acknowledgment that somehow, like Melanie in Gone with Wind, I was not built for carrying and birthing babies.

Then my baby was born a preemie, all 5 pounds of her, and I realized that my body WAS built for birthing babies.  I was euphoric (or maybe that was the drugs).  I helped God create a beautiful wonder, and I marveled at the perfectness of every inch of her body.  I wailed when I had to leave her in the NICU, and I experienced literal heartache every time visiting hours were over.

Fast forward thirteen years, and the heartache is back.  For my little girl is little no longer, and I will never have another child again.  Unless the Lord himself comes down and tells my husband “Thou Shalt Adopt,” that is.

I’m realizing that I homeschooled as much for the state of my own heart as I did for my daughter’s education. Homeschooling prolonged the time I got to spend with her.  It gave the two of us special, concrete things to do together.  I am not very imaginative when it comes to play, so I latched on to homeschooling as a means of spending quality time.  It fed my heart to see her develop into the brilliant-minded girl she is today. The heartache at seeing my baby grow up didn’t feel so painful when I had her with me.

And now the heartache is back.  But just as I knew being in the NICU was what my child needed those first few days of her early life, today I know she is where she needs to be.  My husband just called me after dropping her off at school.  I asked if she was nervous or anxious, and he told me that she was smiling and happy.  She was where she needs to be.  Out of the nest.

I blinded myself to this transition.  Over a year ago, she started telling me that she didn’t want me to be “Teacher.”  She wanted me to be “just a mom.” I failed to listen to the meaning behind her words and assumed she was just chafing at having to do whatever work had been assigned.  Now it feels like scales are dropping from my eyes as I see her anew in this schooling hybrid.

This transition has been anything but easy.  I am cratering under four teachers’ requirements and what feels like a ton of expectations.  Going into this, I had no idea it would be so difficult to cede control over.  It’s as if I have/she has four bosses.  But I know that learning to comply with multiple expectations will only HELP her in the long run. It will also help me learn to transition from teacher to just a mom.

I have cried. A lot.  Yesterday my husband just about gave up on me and retreated into an emotional concrete bunker to get away from my over-the-top histrionics.  I don’t blame him.  I want to get away from me, too.  I will emerge from this semester a better mom and wife, right?

It helps to know that she is in the right place.  When she walked out the door this morning with her hair pulled back in a hairband and her uniform all fresh and clean, she gave me a huge grin and said,

“I really enjoy early mornings like this!”

Of course, I didn’t remind her that just an hour earlier when she first woke up she nearly cried from exhaustion.  I was happy to see her smile.  Right then and there I offered mental praise to the Lord for showing me her heart.  He knew this is what she needed for this time in her life…and, whether I want to admit it or not, He knew this is what I needed, also.  It is comforting to know that Father still knows best!

“…for your Father knows exactly what you need even before you ask him!”
Matthew 6:8

Filed Under: anxiety, education, homeschooling Tagged With: , , ,

The Ultimate Author

January 6, 2012 By 1 Comment
0401583_Yellowstone-forest-burn

I want to be calm.  I long to be serene and at peace, no matter what life throws at me.  I want Jesus to be the first on my mind when I wake, throughout my day, and when I go to sleep.  Unfortunately, that’s just not reality for me right now.  I can’t figure out why.  I am in the Word every day, but inside I am an empty shell.  A hypocrite.  A sinner in need of a saving, daily…hourly…every second. Looking back on my life, there have been times that I have been so close to God.  I really want to be close again. I’m knocking on that door.  If it is opening, then my eyes are blinded because I can’t see it.

I have a lifelong friend who writes beautiful blogs and has created an online site called A Martha Heart. She is so filled with love and with Jesus that her faith flows out of her words like incredible poetry.  She inspires me.

But deep inside, I covet.  I feel jealous, you see, because I want what she has.

She sees places in her journey where the Lord has been right with her.  Where He held her.  Where he helped her climb walls, face fears, and have the courage to walk a path that she could not see.

Oh, that my eyes could see the Lord’s intervention in my own life.  What wall has He helped me climb?  Where is He?  In fact, where am I…who am I, really?  What has happened to me and to my faith?  Why am I so blind — and when did this blindness begin taking hold of me?

_________________

Fingers of fog blanket the roots of naked tree trunks that rise up out of the ground. Partially burned, these trunks lift pointed spears to the heavens. The oppressive air settles on my head, and frigid dampness seeps into every pore.  The sun is a distant memory.  Aimlessly I wander through the ghostly forest, my footsteps the only discernible sound.

“Where are you, God?” I cry out in this desolate forest.  ”Why can I not feel your presence?”

Silence.

That ever-present fear and anxiety steps to the forefront, demanding to be heard.  It is The Voice.

“You are worthless!” it screams in my mind.

“Go Away,” I reply.  ”I’m a Daughter of the King!”

The Voice takes on a different tactic and drops to a whisper, a bubbling brook that cascades through my waking thoughts and even through my dreams.

“Your daughter is now around a multitude of kids. Germs will be everywhere.  She’ll get a virus.”

The logical part of my brain counters the whisper with a shout.  ”God designed our bodies to defeat germs!  She will be okay even if she does get sick! The Lord himself will protect her!”

The Voice answers back quickly, before I have even a moment to relax. “What about that case of whooping cough?  She was very ill, coughing and vomiting for a whole year. And the year before that it was pneumonia…and stomach viruses.”

Suddenly the barren forest grows fifty feet taller. I stand in the middle of a clearing, but the fog obscures any sunlight that may be overhead, and I grow dizzy with panic and shame because I remember the Whooping Cough.  I remember the agony of hearing my precious one cough until she turned purple, retched, and vomited…over and over.  I remember also losing faith in modern medicine — because my child had been given all the recommended doses of the pertussis vaccine — yet she still got sick…in school.  And now, seven years later, she’s back.  In school.  With germs.

The Voice chuckles and mocks me.  ”Where was your God when she got Whooping Cough?  Where was He when she got stomach viruses? Salmonella? Rotavirus?”

I can’t see the Lord or feel him, but deep down I have to believe he’s still there, or else I will sink into this swampy earth…let the earth have me, because without the Lord, what is the point of me? He may be far away above the fog, but He’s still there, with vision that sees through the clouds.  So I answer back, not to the Voice, but to the One who made me.

“Where were you, God?”

He still doesn’t answer (or if he does, I do not hear Him).  Instead I think of how she did pull through.  None of those illnesses caused permanent damage to her physically…but, and this is a huge but…they did damage me. Mentally.

The Voice mocks me once again. ”Your fears are shameful. Disgraceful.  You aren’t a TRUE Christian because if you had the Holy Spirit in you as you claim, then your fears would go away, and I would have no hold on you.”

Hanging my head, I conjure up the Word:

18 There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. 1 John 4:18, NIV

“Ah-ha!” the Voice shrieks in laughter.  ”You fear, therefore you are not made perfect in love!”

Looking around me at the barren, lifeless trees, I see that I am indeed not made perfect in love.  For me, punishment is dealing with sickness, whether my own sickness, or someone else’s.  And I do fear it.  I fear it even though I’ve had to abide it from time to time.

I sink to my knees and remember the punishment I felt during the year of the Whooping Cough.  I remember the nightly panic attacks rising up out of dreams of throwing up.  It dawns on me that I view sickness as punishment…as painful to my heart as a flogging. I avoid it.  I stop eating because of my fear of it.

Yes, indeed.  I am not made perfect in love.

Yet.

Will I ever be?

For a moment I sit still in the clearing, my knees hidden beneath the creeping fog. A damp breeze freezes the tears on my cheeks and smells vaguely of earth, and life, and something else undefined.  The freshness blows away some of the oppressive stench that surrounds the clearing.

And I think about punishment and family and children and life and death.  I remember Jesus willingly undergoing a horribly painful punishment that led to death.  I know that I am supposed to view his sacrifice as the ultimate one…but the Voice creeps in again, unwanted and unloved.

“Your punishment is worse than death.  Your fears keep you shackled — you will never escape.  You will never dream dreams or live your life to the fullest. You would gladly trade places with Jesus on that cross if it meant you would not have to endure nausea in yourself or your family ever again. Pain you can deal with…you live it every day…and you know that at least on the cross, there would be an end to the suffering.”

I process a moment.  The Voice does have a point.  That is exactly how I feel, especially when faced with immediate risk of sickness. It’s why  I delayed surgery so long.  It’s one of the biggest, deepest, most secret of reasons why I chose to homeschool for so long.  It’s why I avoid public restrooms and prefer to eat at home rather than out at restaurants.  It’s why travel makes my life miserable with anxiety.  But never escape?

“That’s a lie,” I tell the Voice.  ”One day I will escape, when I get to meet Jesus.”

The fog seems to shrug, and the Voice continues telling me ugly things I don’t want to hear, so I shove them back down inside and see the dead world surrounding me. I realize there are no colors in this place I’m living in my head.  There are no birdsongs or squirrel chatterings.  I have no dreams of what I’d like to achieve because I can’t see around or a way through the fog.

That’s when I notice that the fog itself is in my mind. It blurs my joy.  It hinders my thinking. It blinds me to those things that I know are true, like God’s love for ME, warts and all.  I hear worship songs proclaiming O How He Loves Us, and I shake my head in confusion and annoyance because I don’t see how He loves me, warped and foggy that I am.  I am not made perfect in love, so how can He love me?

_____

I know where I want this story to go.  I want there to be a visible spring in the clearing, with birdsong and green life.  I want to hear the Lord, to experience His presence again.  I want to banish the Voice and achieve perfect love here on this side of heaven.

I guess God, who holds the pen to my life, has not yet written the part of the story where the ugly Voice borne out of fear is finally vanquished from my mind. Logically, I know the end of the story.  I know Who triumphs over death, disease, and sin.  But emotionally I’m stuck with a barren soul, waiting for the Ultimate Author to write that climatic chapter so I can then go on to dream dreams and achieve all that He created me to be.

Filed Under: anxiety, fibromyalgia, praise Tagged With: , , , ,

A Night For The Birds

January 1, 2012 By Leave a Comment
friends

I spent the very first minutes of 2012 being inducted into the Chicken Feet Hall of Fame.  I adore my friends and had such a great time kicking back and beating them at a domino game I’d never played before. :)  Admittedly, I didn’t exactly win every round.  And…I didn’t exactly play alone; my dear strategic master husband was my partner!  With our combined brain power, we won exactly TWO hands.  The best part of the night was watching my daughter and her friends get into the game.  Please pardon the blurry image — the excitement was so intense that my camera phone almost exploded.  Or maybe I was doing little jumping around myself.

Oh, and my other favorite part of the night was watching my husband play with the birds.

These conures belong to our friends who hosted the New Year’s Eve party.  For some reason, my husband has never met a bird that didn’t immediately bond with him.  Trips to aviaries inevitably lead to birds perching on his head, his shoulders, his arms, his fingers.  Last night was no exception.  These babies grabbed ahold of him and did not want to let go.

Here’s another one:

I almost felt a bit jealous!

First we had the obsession with Chicken Feet, and then we had the obsession with the conures. So when I say the end of 2011 and beginning of 2012 was a Night for the Birds…I mean it. Literally. :)

Filed Under: praise Tagged With: , ,

Looking Back, Full Steam Ahead

December 31, 2011 By 2 Comments
cadiwatermelon

Looking back, I proclaim 2011 to have been the Year of the Roller Coaster.  There were so many twists and turns through my life journey that it’s difficult to even remember all of them.  Truthfully, the year was filled with much angst, pain, panic attacks, and poor health — but also with love, life, and peace that defies human understanding.  I still do not know how I mustered the courage to power through some of the tasks set before me.  If someone had told me last January that by the end of the year I would have successfully had a hysterectomy, I would never have believed it.

If someone told me that I would turn in my “homeschooling mom” credentials by the beginning of 2012, I would never have believed that, either.  I am living proof of this verse:

 In his heart a man plans his course,
but the LORD determines his steps.
Proverbs 16:9

Beginning tomorrow, my identity as “homeschool mom” will be replaced with “school mom.”  Frankly, I feel a bit lost.  Here’s a snapshot of my girl back in our early days of homeschooling.  She’s holding a watermelon we grew in our garden:

Do you see those dimples and those sweet, chubby cheeks? Oh, be still my heart.

Now, I blinked my eyes one time, and suddenly here she is….transformed into a young lady of 13:

Time isn’t just marching on.  It feels like time is racing ahead faster than I can keep up!

I’ve heard from all my daughter’s teachers — every one of them has been encouraging and kind.  But the fact remains that someone else will determine the curriculum.  Someone else will determine my daughter’s grades. Someone else will hear her jokes, watch her smile, and be a guiding influence as she grows and matures into the lovely young woman God has created.  All I can say is…thank goodness her school only meets three days a week rather than five…or else I would be a mess!  This is a bigger transition, probably, for me, than it will be for her.  I have abdicated some of my responsibility —  MOST of my responsibility — and that is scary.  I won’t be there to remind her to put her name on her paper.  She hasn’t had to have proper headings on her papers because, well, she’s been the only student now for six years!  Mostly I’ll just miss being in the same room with her, sharing her space, feasting my eyes on this strange, beautiful girl the Lord somehow shaped out of me and my sweet hubby.  She’s too old and too big to sit in mamma’s lap, but she does still like to give us generous hugs. Now that she is taller than me, she curls her head on my shoulder and pats my back.  The back patting has been a routine of hers since infancy!  Now someone else will get the back pats — at least during school hours.

Is it obvious that I am not necessarily going into this transition with rainbows and doves and a smiling heart?  More like kicking and screaming, probably.

But parents do what is best for their children. The Lord has shown me that it’s time.

This will be the year that my daughter will fly out of the nest.

As for me? I’m scared to death, but I shall wait on the Lord.  Perhaps this will be the year that I, too, will spread my wings, try something new, write a novel, take a class, spread a little joy…full steam ahead!

Filed Under: anxiety, education, homeschooling, praise

The Dead Refrigerator, Caravaggio, and Modern Art

December 30, 2011 By Leave a Comment
photo

Today was scheduled to be one of those warm and fuzzy family-friendly days, complete with a grinning teenage ice skater, smiley trips to art museums, a fabulous dining experience, and a leisurely late afternoon spent reading novels and eating oatmeal cookies.  The reality was a bit different.

Let me back up a bit and tell you a little something about last night.  My handy, eagle-eyed hubby noticed that water was on the floor near the refrigerator. My hubby notices with 100% accuracy when anything in the house is out of a place in a way that may cause someone to fall, put their eyes out, or both, so I wasn’t surprised that he was the one who noticed the slick spot.  My mom brain easily overlooks such things because…well, because it has hubby to take up the slack!

Both of us assumed that someone (ahem, not me, because I was out on a girl’s night at the coffee house) at the house dispensed and spilled a piece of ice that fell on the floor and melted.  We wiped up the drip and went to bed.

The End.  Or, so we thought.

The first thing I noticed that was off was a strange odor in the refrigerator.  It smelled like nasty soy sauce.  I couldn’t find any open containers of food but just shrugged it off as one of those unexplained mysteries.

(I have to insert here the fact that it was 7 a.m. in the morning.  I do not normally rise and shine at that hour, especially lately since I’ve been wresting with my restless legs six or seven times a night.  But we had a fun day planned, so I was up and at ‘em, but I wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.)

I opened the bacon and got it cooking in the microwave.  That’s when my fuzzy brain saw the new puddle-sized slick spot on the floor.  With dread in the pit of my stomach, I noticed a steady drip of water falling off the bottom of the freezer onto the floor.

Uh-oh.

Suddenly, I had the feeling that I really didn’t WANT to open up the freezer to find the source of the puddle…but I opened it anyway to find my worst fears confirmed.  The stinky soy sauce smell was overwhelming.  The ice in the dispenser was melting.  The ice cream was oozing. And — horror of horrors — the Eggos were soft!

At that point I noticed what my fuzzy morning brain hadn’t: the silence.  I opened the refrigerator and noticed something else: it, too, was disturbingly warm and silent.  Room temperature.

Gross.

Thankfully we had not yet eaten any of the food.

So…our leisurely morning had turned into an adventure, and it wasn’t even 7:30 yet!

We took our teenager to the ice rink and may have coaxed a grin or two out of her very sleepy eyes.  We also made the museum rounds: the Ft. Worth Modern Art Museum and the Kimbell Museum of Art — field trips in which I learned quite a few new tidbits of information:

The “modern” art museum in Ft. Worth is actually the oldest museum in Texas.  ”Art” is a relative term.  Hence, this glass cube of…air.

Some collections at the museum are not to be photographed.  Of course the rule follower in me was mortified when the museum watcher told me photography was not allowed as I was attempting to snap a photo of this…thing.

But not until I actually got the shot!  What on earth IS it?

I also learned that Frodo was at the top of this ladder:

Not really.  But the long ladder reminded me of the stairs he had to climb to get to the secret entrance into Mordor.

I also learned that taking photographs with an iPhone on a sunny day outside leaves the subject in shadow.  But since it’s a cool picture anyway, I’ll share it:

Another lesson I learned is that I am not 100% yet.  After an hour of perusing the echoey exhibits, my lower back protested mightily.  But we still had the Caravaggio exhibit to see at the Kimbell — and I had so much more to learn:

People who wish to see a special exhibit at the Kimbell Museum would do well to arrive early.  The line to get in snaked outside the building.  People who do not like standing in long lines would do well to purchase a membership.  The ticket box had three people serving a very short members line and one person serving a very long general admission line.  (We are now proud members after I accidentally got into the wrong line but then used it to my advantage and purchased a membership!)

And then…Caravaggio.  When hubby went to Rome a couple years ago, he came back raving about Caravaggio.  Caravaggio was to art like Steve Jobs was to technology.  Everything changed after Caravaggio, who was the first to use light and shadows to make his art “pop.”  And POP it did — some of the people in his paintings looked like they were about to step off the canvas and into the exhibit hall.  His art was a sensation in his time, and in ours.

Caravaggio brought humor and art together.  We all enjoyed finding the sleight of hand antics portrayed in his paintings: the gypsy sliding the ring off the young man’s finger…the card shark hiding cards behind his back.

We also examined portraits of saints — a topic in which we Baptists are not exactly well-versed. Apparently St. Frances of Assisi had some sort of heavenly encounter and ended up with stigmata (unexplained wounds on his hands, feet, and chest). Being raised Protestant, I have never heard of this story and am intrigued.  Thus, this trip to the library will lead to more research on my part as I try to learn more about this event — are there historical references to it?  Is it legend?  Is it truth?

Finally…those of us who are Protestant raised might not have ever heard of a woman named Judith…but Caravaggio and his contemporaries were very familiar with her story.  The Book of Judith is included in the Eastern Orthodox Bible but was eliminated from the Protestant one.   Many sites I’ve come across say that Judith had too many historical inaccuracies, but others claim that if Judith is dated to the time during the Judges, the historical facts align with what is known about Israelite history.  Suffice it to say that the paintings of Judith that I saw today made me decide to read her book.

After a quick detour to view Michaelangelo’s earliest known painting, we drove towards home, sat in Six Flags traffic for fourteen hours, cleaned up the lonely dog’s pee, went to Lowe’s to purchase a new refrigerator, and dropped by the grocery store to buy a few items we needed for tomorrow’s breakfast.  Thankfully we had a tiny bit of room in the small refrigerator we keep drinks in, or else we’d be living out of a cooler for a week until the new refrigerator is delivered.

Hubby then dumped everything out of the smelly refrigerator into trash bags and took them to the nice salesman at Lowe’s who helped him smuggle the slightly spoiled food into the dumpsters.  Because you know YESTERDAY was trash day.  Of course.

It’s been a looooooooooonnnnnnggggg day.  My eyelids feel gritty, my back is barking, and my heart is hurting at all the food we had to throw away…yet I am grateful for this day of learning and family togetherness.  I am grateful we were able to purchase a new refrigerator AND get rid of all the stinky soy sauced food.  And I’m grateful for museums that inspire learning….even in a fuzzy-headed, sleep-deprived, KitchenAid refrigerator-hating mom like me.

Filed Under: education Tagged With: , , ,
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