The Ark (last part!)
… of course I was thrilled about the Ark. I was jumping up and down inside, so amazed at God’s grace and power.
But I didn’t want to tell anyone. Why?
Because then they would say, “Oh fun! Show me the link to the house!”
And then I would cringe. Because I didn’t want to show anyone that the house was … big. I didn’t want anyone to see the price.
I was afraid of being judged.
There you have it. My pride. I took pride in being the frugal girl. In living simply. In having my small, 110-year-old house. Living in a little old house looks godly. Living in an enormous house looks worldly. What would people think when the Frugal-living girl buys a (to me) super expensive house?!!
Yes, we could afford it without reducing our giving-amount at all. Yes, this was clearly the house God was leading us to. But I couldn’t give those disclaimers to everyone. Some people would just look, and think I’d sold out and quit being a Jesus-follower and think this was just about me wanting to live in a big house.
I would avoid giving any details about the house. I didn’t want anybody to look it up and draw conclusions about us. There wasn’t time to tell the whole story to every random person, so I just figured I’d keep the whole thing quiet. But as I prayed, I kept sensing the Father saying,
“Don’t fear people. Don’t be ashamed of what I’m doing.”
I know it sounds silly, but this was the hardest part. I’d been so open about our journey of leaving our dream-home, I was afraid people would see this as “going back” to our old life. And it was anything but! This was a new level of trust, of surrender, of living with hands wide open. I honestly believe this house and property will be a blessing to uncounted many. It will be A Refuge In The Storm. God has already kept me back from taking claim to this house as if it’s my own. It’s His. In every way. Every square inch is His and I’m to be His steward of it for as long as He wills.
So there it is.
Through this process, God has brought the story of Noah to life in a whole new way. I have never identified so much! I keep thinking how he must have worried what other people thought, how it probably seemed like a “waste of money” to build that enormous boat, how he must have felt crazy some (most?) of the time. But he followed through, it came to pass, and the Ark was indeed A Refuge In the Storm.
I have no idea what the whole story will be. I don’t know what the storm is, or exactly how this house will be used. It might not even be clear in my lifetime. I’m content not having all the details, I’m just grateful for the peace of knowing this next step. We move in April 11th. I’m keeping the specific location private, not because I’m afraid you’ll judge me 😉 but because it needs to be private. Thanks for respecting that.
For now, I just want to say: Whatever God is calling you to do: believe Him! Don’t fear others’ opinions, their judgement, or your own lack of resources. Whole-hearted surrender brings incredible blessing and opens the path for His dreams to be brought to fruition in our lives. Praying for the grace to trust Him in the days ahead, each step of the way.
{Thanks so much for reading.}
The Ark (Part 3)
… Okay let’s finish this story!
So, in January, we were generously given a raise by the elders of our church. At first was uncomfortable with receiving this increase. This was God’s money! Plus, we were fine. We weren’t starving, and we literally had no needs. We are clothed, we have cars, we have plenty. But again, as I went to the Lord in prayer, I kept sensing Him saying to receive because this was part of the journey. We had become comfortable with being conduits of His love and resources in teeny tiny amounts, and He wanted us to be willing to be conduits of His love and resources in larger ways now.
Plus, to my amazement, because we had whittled down our monthly budget to such a small amount, this “extra” now put us in a completely different position to look for the Ark. I still didn’t have a $ amount, but I began to see that this was all part of God making the impossible possible.
Then I accidentally sold our house.
Ha! Yes, that’s right. This is the part of the story where I say, “Wives, don’t do this.” Jeff laughed so hard saying,
“You sold our house out from under me!” Haha.
Actually all I did was click that teeny tiny button on Zillow that says “Make Me Move.” I was praying and fasting, and the idea came to mind so I did it.
Yeah, like, I did it without asking Jeff. (Cringe face.)
Thankfully, he laughed later and said it was fine, but we received a FLOOD (ha!) of calls with interested buyers. We agreed to just show the house to two people who seemed most eager. The second one came and cried when she saw the house she loved it so much, and offered full price. Jeff agreed, we accepted.
So, um … now what?
The same day we received the offer, a house popped up on the market. I had no filters on my search at all, but it caught my eye because it was 4.5 acres and it looked like …
… an ARK.
The front angled out like the bow of a boat and there were decks all the around. I looked closer. 4.5 acres. Two full living spaces. Huge shop. Wood stove. On a well.
With a pond and creek.
Oh good grief!
My eyes widened. Was this for real? And, with the more-than-expected equity from our house-sale, it would be the exact amount we’d already been approved for, with our new income.
We went to see it and it rang so clearly in my heart, “This is it.” The kids, of course, were ecstatic. We’d seen some absolute hovels of houses, and after seeing all those dives they couldn’t believe we were actually considering a house that they LIKED! Haha, and that’s how I felt. I was like, “Wait what?! This house is actually pretty! I didn’t expect pretty to be part of the process.” I thought it would be like an old school, or a warehouse, or some weird thing like that, I didn’t expect it to be clean and lovely! Of course I would never have picked green countertops or some of the other stylistic parts of the house, but I didn’t give a rip about those things.
This was THE ARK!
Of course I was thrilled at seeing this God-thing come to pass. It was so remarkable I could barely believe it, but then would come the uprooting of more heart-issues. God doesn’t waste anything, and He used this blessing to show me lingering sin in my heart …
Bet you can’t wait for that! Haha. 😉 More soon!
The Ark (Part 2)
{Continuing the story from yesterday! So sorry to keep you waiting!}
… So we prayed and asked God to show us what to look for. Altogether we sensed 7 things, but they came one at a time. I think if He’d showed us everything all at once, we’d have laughed in disbelief and abandoned the whole adventure altogether.
First, He had to help me abandon an incomplete view of what it means to be faithful financial stewards.
See, I’m the Faithfully Frugal girl. I wrote the book, people! And I wholeheartedly agree with every word in there, but I hadn’t realized how much I’d equated frugality with godliness.
With good reason. Nine times out of ten, erring on the side of frugality is going be a safe bet. We’re a nation of over-spenders, often over-indulging ourselves while refusing to help our brothers and sisters with real needs. God had done such a dramatic work in my heart regarding finances and frugality, that I was zealous for frugality.
But in October, God began revealing to me, that although my passion for frugality was well-intended, He wanted to take me deeper. He wanted to teach me to the way of the Kingdom, living as a child of God.
In October I distinctly heard, “I no longer want you to make decisions based on money.”
Say what?! Then how on earth would I make them? Yes, we gave generously overseas and to our local church, but in my day-to-day decision-making, I almost always made decisions simply based on what was cheaper. At restaurants, gifts, groceries, choices of all kinds. My go-to, default, decision-making process was almost always What’s cheaper? or What’s the better deal?
That’s fine for some things, but it’s terribly incomplete. It often isn’t motivated by love, faith, or the gospel. It’s motivated by a passionate commitment to spending as little as possible.
Again, that might be a good place to begin, but I sensed the Father saying from now on He wanted me to confer with Him about every single financial decision, and trust His leading (with my husband, of course) and buy or not buy what He wanted, regardless of price.
Ok, this might seem like no big deal to you, but this was a HUGE SCARY DEAL to me. I kept thinking, “This is fine and dandy for those people with plenty of money, but what about for us?! We can’t afford to be willy nilly with our finances!”
I could almost hear Him laughing. Of course this wasn’t “willy nilly” … this was learning to live more fully in relationship with the Father, not with a commitment to a certain financial principle. I felt so scared to step outside my comfort zone in this way. But you know what? I did it and …
It was awesome! I found myself being so much more generous, buying gifts for people because I genuinely thought it would be their very favorite, not just because it was on sale. I had so much fun dreaming up ways to bless others. I found myself feeling so FREE!
And to my everlasting amazement, of course, we never lacked. 😉
In the midst of this, when I asked God to show me what price range to search for as we looked for the Ark, I kept sensing,
“No. I don’t want you to have a house in a certain price range, I want you to have the house I have for you.”
Um… ok?
But I had no idea what to look for!
So again, we prayed, and slowly but surely, over the next 4 months, seven things kept coming back to our hearts & minds.
- Big. (Not real specific.)
- 4 acres. (Real specific!)
- Two living spaces so that our housemates could come with us.
- An outbuilding of some sort.
- On a well.
- Wood-stove.
- With a water source (pond, creek, etc.) on the property.
So…can you see why I was tempted to laugh in unbelief?? Um…have you SEEN house prices in the Portland area? Sky high! Have you SEEN the million-dollar price-tags on anything that would have all 7 of these items? Seriously I felt like Sarah when she was told she’d have a baby at 90-years-old!
But, the Ark impression kept coming back in alarming frequency. I’ll spare you all the specifics, but it seemed everywhere I turned there was a reference to Noah and the ark, specifically Jesus’ references to this in the gospels.
But again, would money rain down from heaven? How on earth would this happen?
More tomorrow! Thanks for reading.
The Ark
We signed papers on The Ark, so it’s time to share the story. This might take several installations! It’s the next leg of our journey with Jesus. Thank you for indulging me!
Some of you may remember our Downsize Journey from 2010. (There are links to all 5 installments there) Basically, God destroyed our neat-and-tidy lives by opening up our eyes to the world He loves. We read The Hole in Our Gospel, and were completely wrecked. We’d just purchased our “dream home,” and felt like we’d “arrived” at the life we’d always wanted. But sadly, it was just a churchy version of the empty American Dream. (Note: As most of you know, that journey wasn’t about big houses being bad, it was a heart-thing. An idol-thing. More on this to come in the book!)
So: We “lost” $50,000 by selling our dream-home, and were then led by the Wisdom of Buzz Lightyear (remember that?) to move into a dumpy rental where we experienced more JOY than we ever imagined. After taking the leap-of-faith with our church plant in 2012, He allowed us to fall backwards into an old 110-year-old house in the city, with room in the basement for housemates, which just “happened” to be right by where Renew Church would end up being, and where Providence would have us meet “Julie” who would forever change our lives.
“The 1601” has been nothing but blessing. It was such a gift from God.
Then, in March 2015, while Jeff was in Africa, I was praying each day and had a strong impression that perhaps God was going to move us out into the country. On the one hand, we were completely content where we were. We loved the 1601, loved how inexpensive it was, and loved being right downtown, at the hub of everything. On the other hand, we LOVE nature and love being out in the country. We’ve always wished we could raise our kids out in the country but never dreamed it would be financially feasible.
But this impression was distinct, and it wasn’t just about us. Sure, I love rural settings, but I kept having the impression that God was calling us to create a refuge for people. A haven. The word that kept coming to mind, over and over in prayer, was an ARK.
Like, Noah’s ark. I know: So weird. I wrote “ark?” at the top of my journal, and kept praying each day. The impression stayed. When Jeff got home from Africa I shared the strange impression:
“So, I think maybe we’re supposed to build (buy?) an … ark.”
He was appropriately perplexed, but we continued praying about it together.
Over the next 5-6 months, the Ark came up over and over and over. I found an old journal from 2012 where I’d written down a seemingly-random impression when I thought I heard God ask,
“If I told you to build an ark, would you do it?”
Then I started having dreams. No, not “dream-house” kind of dreams, like actual dreams, which I never have. I had two vivid dreams that were alarming and specific, and after waking I remembered every detail. Both had to do with the Ark.
So, we started looking, sort of.
The strange part was, I didn’t really know what to look for. You can’t just email your realtor and say, “Hey, we’re looking for an ark; you seen any lately?” There is no search-criteria called “Ark-ish” on Redfin. This clearly wasn’t about my taste or personal preferences so I couldn’t just use that as a guide. Plus, I no longer had any house-dreams. We’d been there, done that. It’s not that I don’t care about how things look, it’s just that I don’t have a “dream house” bug left in me. I literally had no idea what to look for because I was no longer driven by these things.
All I knew was that we had a teeny tiny income, so I looked for a teeny tiny (read: run-down, barely-inhabitable) house.
We found a few, even made an offer on two, but didn’t get them. Plus, I kept being faced with the rather obvious observation that the Ark was … well, BIG.
So, I figured that since this was God’s idea, He would need to tell us what to pray for and what to look for. So we asked Him and He showed us seven things …
More to come! Thanks for reading!
That hidden handicap
It was just over 3 years ago we ventured into unpaid territory.
Looking back, it seems scary. I can’t believe we did it! We’d strongly sensed a call to plant a church, so we left our well-paying pastoring position, and prayed constantly for His guidance as we slowly stepped out in faith and began gathering with a handful of folks in our backyard, serving barbecued hamburgers and often singing a capella, Jeff preaching above the noise of the neighbors’ wood-chipper.
I’m not sure if they knew what they were getting into because we didn’t know what we were getting into!
But they were sweet days, even when October came and we were still gathering outside on Sunday nights. We handed out blankets to keep people warm, but slowly the earlier-setting sun left us in complete darkness by the time we sang our last song. We thought about requesting that everyone bring flashlights, but figured it was probably time to get a building instead.
October 2012 was the first month we wouldn’t receive a paycheck. At all. Yes, Jeff could have gotten another job, but for us we just kept sensing we were to put all our time and effort into this plant, and trust our Provider to provide. Thankfully, we’d already slashed our monthly budget by more than 75% during this other crazy adventure, so God had, in His providence, already prepared us for this slim-pickin’s season.
To our everlasting amazement, our no-salary stretch only lasted one month.
His faithfulness, shown through the faithfulness of His people, provided for us almost immediately. Sure, the salary was a teeny tiny one, but hey, we had food on the table!
It has been such a gift, these last three years, of truly walking by faith. God has dumped His gracious provision on us–providing a home, fabulous housemates, plenty of food, clothes when we need it, homeschool materials, really anything we could ever need.
But now as we’ve gotten more comfortable we face a future where we’ll no longer have to be skimping and penny-pinching. We haven’t increased our monthly expenditures at all, but the truth is — we have plenty.
And while it seemed scary to live on such little, it’s actually scarier to live on much more.
What do I mean?
There are a lot of ways that the kingdom of God is an upside down kingdom, but perhaps most dramatically in this way: Riches are a spiritual handicap.
Don’t worry, this isn’t a money-is-bad rant. Money isn’t bad. At all. All resources are a gift from God and the means through which He often provides and blesses.
It’s just that a cushy income is common called a spiritual danger in the Scripture.
This week my Bible study reading included Mark 10, the story of the rich young ruler and the remarks Jesus made to His disciples after the man sadly turned away from following Jesus, choosing His wealth instead. His words are startling to say the least:
“How difficult it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” And the disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how difficult it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” (v. 24-25)
The disciples were amazed at His words and so am I! Every time I read this, I squirm a little. A camel through the eye of a needle? Yikes! It’s not just that it’s a little harder to resist greed and temptation when we have worldly wealth, it’s WAY harder.
Money is the hidden handicap of the Christian life.
Again, we shouldn’t demonize money, but we must be sober-minded about the great temptation we face when a comfortable income comes our way. We must become extra vigilant to give sacrificially, evaluate our motives, and keep open-accountability with others about the way we spend our resources. In our culture we think money buys independence. Poor people have to give account of their spending because we’re suspicious, but rich people can do whatever they want because clearly they must be doing ok.
The gospel is the great equalizer. No one gets to gain independence from God or others. We are all to live in personal and financial accountability, asking the hard questions and helping each other genuinely grow in Christlikeness.
Please hear my heart: Money’s not bad. The LOVE of money is bad. Jesus says riches are deceitful and can choke out the work of God in our lives. But we don’t have to let them!
If we do find ourselves making more money, let’s be ever-aware of the temptation and fight hard to remain faithful to the kingdom of God. Let’s not set our hearts on them, let’s give freely more and more and more, let’s use the world’s resources for furthering the gospel and blessing the world Jesus came to save. Giving breaks the back of greed and leads us into joy.
I’m preaching this to myself: Thanks for listening in. 😉
{Thanks for reading.}
Nursing Grace to Life
She was half-dead when we found her.
In the corner of the neighbor’s yard, a full 12 hours after the incident, the kids and Jeff found her mangled, nearly-lifeless body. He texted me right away;
We found Grace. I don’t think she’s going to make it.
Yes, we are talking about a chicken. I get it. Farm animals get eaten by raccoons all the time. But these girls are our pets. Dutch and Heidi love these chickens. We got them as newly hatched chicks, nursed them along in our kitchen, then the kids cared for them these six months. From the very beginning, they could tell them apart. I have no idea how, but from day one, their favorite chick, the very first one they named … was Grace.
Dutch named her. Grace was the chick Heidi would always reach for, to cuddle and take outside into the sun. Grace was the one she’d carry under her arm, a little feathered doll. Grace was the one who had worn the beaded bracelet … as a necklace.
And now the kids hovered over her bloody, mangled body, praying she’d survive. Jeff suggested what made most sense–we must put her out of her misery. The kids were horrified. Never! They would pray! Didn’t we always pray for sickness, for injury of every kind? Didn’t we labor in prayer over those we loved and call on God’s mercy to heal?
Yes, but. Jeff looked at Grace’s broken beak hanging sideways, her smashed bloodied face, and slow, labored breaths. There’s just no way, he thought. Besides, she’s a chicken.
They put her in the shade. Put water beside her, but she couldn’t move and with a broken beak there was no way she could drink. Jeff told the kids it was only a matter of time.
Dutch was resolute. “I’m fasting tonight and praying she lives.”
My eyes widened a bit. An 8-year-old fasting for a chicken? Should I explain that there’s no real biblical basis for fasting for the life of an animal? Well, of course I wouldn’t do that. I saw his heart of faith and held him in my arms, asking God to sort through the sincere prayers of my precious boy and answer in His wisest way.
The next morning, early, Jeff came in from his run. I looked up, one question in my eyes.
“She’s still alive,” he said quietly. She still couldn’t move, couldn’t eat or drink. Her beak still broken off to the side. But hope swelled up in those kids’ hearts. They kept praying.
That afternoon Grace stood on her feet. “Mommy! Let’s get an eyedropper and drop water into her mouth!” But she was tucked away too far underneath the coop, so I filled a squirt bottle with water, crouched down near the ground, and squirted water toward her mouth.
At first she jerked away. Understandably. If someone was hosing me in the face I would turn away. But after a few minutes, she slowly moved her jaw up and down, ever so slightly.
Then she turned toward the water.
Several refills later, she made slow steps. Back and forth, with labored breaths, she walked back and forth beneath the coop. With every squirt she slowly worked her jaws up and down. She still couldn’t open her mouth, but I knew water was getting in there somehow.
Later that afternoon, many water-squirts later, something loosened. Dried blood dissolved. Her mouth opened. The kids cheered. “I knew she’d live!”
It’s just a chicken, you say. But this mundane moment made me vividly see the significance of what we do in life. The truth is, tons of people die of drugs. Overdose. Die on the streets, alone, victims of that roaring lion that prowls around, seeking who he can destroy.
A raccoon is to the chickens what the enemy is to us: A predator.
One who comes to steal, kill, and destroy.
And yes, we heighten fences, but casualties still happen, and I have seen mangled hearts and lives, victims of that roaring lion.
How do we help?
Fast and pray, perhaps squirt water on faces, even when they bristle, back-off, and turn away. One mangled heart at a time:
We nurse Grace to life.
{Thank you for reading.}
How $58 buys hope
It was only day one of August rest.
Actually, scratch that, day minus 1, it was only July 31st. But I had been chewing all week on Ex 23:11 and what it means to “let the ground lie fallow.” That morning, when both kids wanted longer snuggles, I ignored my to-dos and held them longer. Later, instead of my usual 5-minute rushed get-ready routine, I went a little slower, enjoying a long bath, braiding my hair, wearing earrings. These things seem ridiculously minuscule, but it’s amazing how a little care turns mundane routine into sacred ritual. After lunch, I had to run an errand for Jeff, so I turned it into a treat for the kids, grateful there was no pressing plan for the afternoon.
Jeff’s errand just happened to be next to a local consignment shop where I’d taken clothes to sell once and never returned to gather my proceeds. The shop caught my eye, mostly because I’d tried so hard to get there recently, with no success.
I looked around the car, realizing the bag of clothes I’d chosen to consign was in the other car. *sigh* It almost seemed strange, how often I’d tried to take them there, but was always detoured. Finally, the day before, I’d sneaked away while Jeff was home for lunch, just to drive the clothes down to the store. Even though it was during business hours, they were closed. Odd. Strangely, something inside urged me not to sell them. The last bit of Ex. 23:11 came to mind, how during the Sabbath year the resting land was to be left “that the poor may eat.” Instead of selling my clothes and getting money, I could just give them away instead, to someone in need. I made a mental plan to take the bag to a certain out-of-town friend.
But here I was, the next day, parked right at the store on an errand for my man. I figured I’d zip in and see if I had a balance from what I’d sold before. As I walked in, I realized the racks were almost empty, with signs “$1” or “75% off” on various shelves.
“We’re closing today, so we’re not taking any more consignments,” I overheard the gal at the counter say sadly to another customer.
Oh. That explains why they weren’t open the other day, and that explains why I had that strange nudge to not bring my clothes in. They were closing today? How sad, I thought, then quickly realized this was a great day to come in, everything was almost free! I looked around briefly but nothing caught my eye except a $1 sweater for my mom. I took the sweater to the counter, and gave her my name.
“I’m so sorry about the store closing.”
I looked at her, she was about my age, and very, very pregnant.
She smiled sadly, “Thanks. Me too.”
She looked at my information on the screen, opened the register, and handed me the $58 I had left on my account. Wow! That was unexpected! No wonder God had me come in this day, this was a profitable trip! I thanked her so much, and the kids and I walked across the street to our car.
We began home, but something hooked my heart. Something wasn’t right. It’d been a long hot afternoon and the kids were eager to get home, but that bit from Exodus came back again:
“The seventh year you shall let it rest and lie fallow, that the poor of your people may eat…”
It rang so clear in my heart: This is not a time to get ahead.
I felt sad for that girl. Clearly she had had a dream, had given it her all, and today her dream died.
Something urged: Go give her the money back.
I resisted: The kids are hot and tired! They’ll pitch a fit if I turn around and go BACK.
Then it came, that uncomfortable, shifting-in-my-seat feeling when I’m resisting the Holy Spirit. (You know the feeling, right?!)
I argued inwardly: I should talk to Jeff about it. I mean, this is our money, I should ask him what I should do with it.
More unease.
I am sure we make way less money than they do, even with their store closing. They’re probably wealthy; this was just a fun side-gig.
More unease. I thought of my wallet at this exact moment, how I’d tucked that cash she’d handed me in beside plenty of other cash.
I just want to get home. I could probably take her the money later.
More unease. I thought of this, her very last day open, of the sadness in her eyes, of the truth:
There’s no better time to obey than now.
I turned around.
“Where are we going?!” Both kids pipe up. “I thought we were done?”
“I just want do something real quick.” I was about to tell them to just trust me and not ask questions, but I paused. Actually … “You guys remember how that store we just went to was closing.”
They nodded and Dutch (usually lacking empathy) chimed in, “Yeah, it made me sad that they had to close.”
“Me too. So you know how they gave me the money I earned from selling my clothes?”
Dutch: “They did?! Oh you shouldn’t have taken the money, Mommy!” (Ha! Apparently His Spirit is more sensitive than mine!)
“That’s what I think too, Dutch. I think God is telling me to go back and give her the money back.”
“Oh mommy, I think God’s saying that too. Let’s go back right now and do it. Can I go in with you? I want to help her feel better too.”
Tears welled up, blurring each block as we made our way back to the store. Such a simple thing, responding to the Spirit, but so many things keep me stubborn. Here I thought this would inconvenience my kids, but it was a blessing to them. Every ordinary day there are discipleship opportunities as we travel the mundane with our littles.
We pulled up right in front of the store, both kids quickly unclicked their seat-belts, they were so excited. To my delight, the store was empty except the girl at the front, so I knew it wouldn’t embarrass her.
“Hi, I was just here and you were so generous to pay me my balance, but …” My voice caught with emotion, surprising me, “I don’t want it. I’m just really sorry you guys are closing, and I’d like you to keep my balance.”
Her face changed.
It lit.
“Are you sure?” She looked into my eyes. Just a quiet exchange of hope, solidarity.
“Yes. I pray you guys are blessed.”
She smiled wide.
“Thank you so much.”
And with that, we left, beaming, hearts light In the car Dutch announced, “Maybe that $58 was exactly the amount they needed!”
I smiled at his sweet childlike faith. “At least we know that $58 bought hope. For us all.”
{Happy Monday. It’s so good to be back here with you. Thanks for reading.}
Polish the Silver {How to get it right}
I woke up early that morning (it was my birthday) and sneaked downstairs.
I was turning six and so excited for my tea party that day. Mom was still sleeping; she had been working hard to prepare for my party, and I wanted to do something special to help her. I looked up onto the high counter and saw the antique sterling silver tea set. That was it! I knew that one of the things she needed to do that morning was polish the silver–I could surprise her and do it for her! Yes, that was the perfect idea.
Now, Where’s the polish?
I vaguely remembered there being polish in the laundry room, so I dug around a little until I found it. It was thick and white, and oozed out of a special spongy tip on one end.
I set to work with all my heart. Rubbing carefully, I covered every surface of the sterling silver set. It was very white and very pasty. Hmm… It definitely looked different from what I’d imagined, but I was glad that I’d finished the job completely before mom woke up.
Just then she came in.
“Oh my!” she said. Her eyes were so big. (She was so surprised!) She smiled wide, really really wide, as she looked at the silver and at me.
“I polished the silver for you Mommy!” She looked at me with so much love in her eyes and this huge smile, I could tell she was so incredibly blessed by my hard work for her.
“Thank you,” she said, and meant it. “Thank you so much. Can I take a picture of you there with the silver?”
I beamed, and sat beside the white chalky silver for a photo.
Then she came next to me: “Now, shall we make it a little less white? We can work on it together.” Together we did a little more work, rinsing off all the white stuff, and wiping the silver clean. Then, still smiling, she pulled out another container from a tall shelf in the kitchen.
“This is the silver polish. Let’s use this one on the silver; ok? We can do it together.” I beamed, still so happy because she was so happy. I knew she was pleased.
It wasn’t until much later that I understood what all took place, when I looked back at the photo in an album and saw the caption:
“Kari loves to help. She polished the silver for me with shoe polish. :)”
Shoe polish.
Here’s what I love: When I think back on that memory, there is only joy. Sure, in a very real sense I did it wrong. I polished silver with shoe polish. But I don’t remember any shame. No anger, or irritation, or annoyance. I wasn’t belittled.
My mom saw my heart, and in my heart: I got it right.
Last week was a busy one for me, and one morning I came downstairs and discovered that Heidi had wanted to bless me. So she was unloading the dishwasher. She was doing the utensils, but since the counters are so high she was sorting out all the clean silverware … on the floor.
“Mommy! I’m helping you!” She beamed.
“Oh!”I smiled, a wide, wide smile. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” I said, and meant it. And while she wasn’t looking (she’s a photo-phobe), I snapped a pic because someday I want her to know that even when she got it wrong, her mama knew she got it right.
Oh friend, how often I have feared stepping out in faith to serve my God, because I was so afraid I wouldn’t get it right? How often I have feared the failure, or the looking foolish. But there is so much grace and freedom in the Kingdom. Our Father sees our hearts, when we earnestly and honestly work to love and serve Him from a heart of humble childlike faith.
Even when we get it wrong, He sees we got it right.
{May this freedom rule your hearts this week. Polish the silver! With love…thanks for reading.}
PS Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. Thank you.
Sky’s the limit now!
“I don’t WANT to go!”
He curled up on the couch, burrowing his head into the pillow. The way he protested you’d think we’d suggested Family Night at the DMV. No, this was Family Night at the pool. Heidi had wanted to take swim lessons so she’d be ready for summer, but all the sessions were full, then when I crunched the numbers I realized we could attend the weekly Family Night at the pool and all swim together for the same price. We made the plan. I followed my tried-and-true method for introducing my boy to a new activity:
I told him about it the week before.
I told him about it three days before.
I told him about it the day before.
I told him about it that morning.
I told him about it after dinner.
I told him about it 15 minutes before.
I told him about it 10 minutes before.
I told him about it five minutes before.
But now it was time to go and now it was time for him to slip into I-hate-trying-new-things-mode. It’s not that he doesn’t like to swim. He loves it. It’s not as if we were planning an activity he loathed. It’s just that he’s never done this exact activity before.
Thankfully, we’ve done this a few times. I told him he didn’t have to get in the water, he could bring a book and sit on the side while we swam. But I suggested he bring his swimsuit …. just in case. (Smile) Heidi leaned in close to me before we walked out the door and whispered knowingly, “Once he gets there he’s gonna love it.” I nodded and she smiled wide. She’s done this a few times too.
I must say, Spring Break was a poor week for our first Family Night. As Heidi and I emerged from the ladies locker room we saw about 53,000 children and parents splashing and shouting and shouting and splashing and my sensory-overload alarm started blaring in my brain as my eyes glazed over and I was rendered suddenly incoherent: Why am I here?
I scanned the sea of flailing arms and faces and finally found Jeff beaming, waving us over. Beside him was begoggled Dutch, dipping and diving and bobbing up and down. I stepped into the water and he rushed through the water to my side, breathless with excitement:
“Mommy! I did a double somersault without even coming up for oxygen!” He shook his head amazed, high as a kite with the exhilaration of achievement. “Sky’s the limit now!”
And with that he was underwater again, leaving Jeff and me laughing out loud, mouthing to each other across the swimming heads between us: Sky’s the limit now!
That’s our boy.
That’s just it though, isn’t it? For me too. Really it’s just that one hump I’ve got to get over. That one scary thing. Aren’t we all just kids who must do One Brave Thing today, and then maybe again tomorrow? My mind knows that swimming, faith, is not that bad. In fact, it’ll probably be fun. But sometimes I’d still rather stay here on the couch and burrow my head into a pillow.
But really, all I have to do is jump on in. Once I hop in the pool the work is really done. Right?
Sky’s the limit now!
{Oh the fun of raising kids and BEING kids. May you jump in! Happy weekend.}
‘Til the fog lifts…
I looked out the window: Thick, heavy, fog. Great.
What is it with funks? So hard to explain. So hard to predict. We know all the right answers, the shoulds and oughts and answers. We can quote the verse. Rejoice!
What about when you don’t?! That fog settles inside too. So heavy. The kids awake cross. I feel lethargic and sleepy. There’s nothing inspiring on the agenda today, and even my favorite mundane activities have lost their charm.
I go through the motions, looking for miracles. Where are You in my mundane today, Lord? I make the oatmeal. Pour coffee. Even my beloved morning brew lacks its usual draw. The kids can feel it too. What will we do today? Our plan, OMSI, is changed because apparently the museum is closed.
I look outside the window again at the cold, thick fog. I can’t even see the chicken coop.
We’d had the false-promise of sunshine. 66-degrees and sunny. Really? But it’s not really the weather, it’s something else. My own tendency to isolate, draw in, find comfort in independence, hole up and hide a bit ’til the fog clears. I don’t like the fog–draw the blinds and crawl back in bed until the sun breaks.
We wait. And wait.
And I stare at my phone because I know a quick text can open up this darkness and let a close friend in. I know who and how, they are always near and eager to love me, to pray, but there’s a sick satisfaction in just lying down in the fog, hiding in obscurity. I stare at my phone. Nah.
The kids and I go upstairs, try to plan our way out of the fog-funk, come up with a solution. That always works, right? (Rolling my eyes here.) We have ideas, different ones: both kids disagree (on everything). I turn to do something and some random gyration (as they roughhouse) lands his head straight into her nose.
SCREAM!
That is IT.
I’m so done.
Get in your room now.
The command is for him but I do it too. Walk into my room and throw myself on the bed, close my eyes, facedown in a pillow. I just can’t look at it anymore, any of it. I’m being childish and selfish, I know it. But I don’t care. Don’t I ever get to pout?! Why do I always have to be the grown-up??
Heidi tip-toes softly in, she’s ten-times more mature than me at this point. She stands beside the bed, and softly caresses my back, her tiny starfish hands gently running up and down my back.
“It’s ok, Mommy. It’s ok.”
Oh that girl. She’s the one that got hit and here she is, leaning over me, in love. I pray the simple pathetic prayer, “Father, show me what to do.” And for me, now, I know what it is:
Reach out into the fog.
I pull Heidi up into my arms, kiss her perfect tiny mouth, and go downstairs, send out that text to that dear one: Honest confession and request for prayer. It isn’t long, but it’s me reaching out into the fog:
“I can’t see clearly right now, help! Could you reach out and take my hand?“
Even before I hear back, I can see a little better now. See my sin (anger) and theirs (complaining). I head back up, gather them into my arms, talk honestly about our sin and sit in prayer together, asking God to forgive us and grant a fresh start to the day. My phone buzzes with a response, one so perfect in its perspective that it has me laughing out loud. Oh, being loved–what grace!
Just then we three look up, through the skylight: Perfect blue.
The fog has lifted.
{For whatever fog you face today. Reach out, to Him, to another. Even here–I’d love to pray for you. Thanks for reading.}