He Speaks to me . . . about STUFF

Let it not ever be said that the voice of God is always hard to hear. Sometimes, I gotta get still and quiet to hear Him. And sometimes, He pulls up a chair next to mine, turns my eyes to meet His, and says, "Listen to Me."

In the past few weeks, I have been bombarded with subtle hints that He wants me to deal with my love of stuff. It started out simply enough with my sweet friend Jen (from The Things you Didn't Do) encouraging us to watch The Story of Stuff. She created a poweful and challenging list of ways she is responding to the message of the Story of Stuff movie, and I kept thinking, "Okay, okay . . . I know I have a problem with stuff. I can stop anytime though. Really."

The truth is I didn't wanna talk about my problem with stuff. Because I, um, love stuff. I can package it however I want . . .

(but AJ needs these new cloth diapers! just doin' my part to save the earth! D needs this sweet stuffed puppy dog! she's still suffering from displacement angst! I need new boots since my feet have expanded a whole size in the past three years and my beloved black dress boots have proven to be unwearable and what's a girl to do without a trusty pair of darling black boots?! 'Cause I get all dressed up to go to the library a lot these days!)

. . . but at the heart of it all is the fact that I just love stuff.

And I read Jeana's (Days to Come) But I WANT That, and I knew He wasn't going to leave me alone about this.

And then AJ woke up at 5:30 this morning and after she agreed with me that 5:30 is far too early to start the day and drifted back to sleep, I found myself wide awake and hankering for a good devotional. So I looked up one of my favorites - My Utmost for His Highest.

This would be when God pulled up a chair next to me.

"A warning which needs to be repeated is that 'the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches,' and the lust for other things, will choke out the life of God in us (Matthew 13:22)."

Oh, and it gets better from there. Go read it yourself, if you're feeling brave. And if devotionals aren't your thing, take twenty minutes from your day to go watch The Story of Stuff. I did. It's very much worth the investment of your time.

So get ready 'cause Mama's been convicted, so you've not heard the last of my battle with stuff. Oh no, gentle readers - it's just beginning!

But first, I have to say that at this moment, precisely three years ago on this lovely January day, I went into labor with my sweet D. And you know I'm gonna have to write about that.

Elusive

Laurie Berkner duets with Tom Chapin in a song called "The Happiest Song I Know," and this fun ditty is on the Most Requested list from DJ Jazzy Dacey. The lyrics are an ode to all things happy ("happy as a newborn pup," for example) and one phrase caught my ear as we drove home and I hummed along . . .

The way you shout when school is out

. . . and for a second I thought back to the school days of my childhood, waiting and watching and sighing as the second hand ticked off those last minutes of captivity. I remember that sweet anticipation of the freedom to be relished on the other side of that school bell's ring. I remember the day I counted off the years ahead of me on my fingers and discovered it was to be 1995 when at last I would be relinquished from the bondage of my school years.

My college years flew by in a blur of classes and papers and meetings and tests and dates and functions, and yet always I was looking ahead, X'ing off the days on the calendar in my mind as I hurtled toward graduation. For surely after I was finally, finally done with school, surely that was when I would really be free, right?

And then I turned around and I was married and teaching and once again counting down the days until the school year ended, this time from the other side of the teacher's desk. I was teaching so The Coach could finish his Masters work, and after that? Freedom from teaching! Freedom to start a family.

And then I had a babe in arms and found myself a far cry from free. Convinced that successful parenting was built on solid scheduling, I found it difficult to leave the house for fear of upsetting the delicate equilibrium of naps and nursing. When opportunities knocked, I would sigh and say, "I can't . . . I have a baby" as I wistfully closed the door.

And that's where I find myself again. Times two. As we prepare for D's Big Three and as AJ inches ever closer to five months, my frustration levels rise in the face of so very little freedom. Jealousy wells up in me as I drive past co-eds jogging up and down the hills of our town. I used to jog . . . before I had babies. I thumb through old Bible study workbooks and look longingly on the notes I scribbled on the pages when I had nothing but time to share with the Lord.

And even as I write this, I realize it all smacks of undeniable selfishness.

And I gaze down into AJ's smiling face and I crack up at D's antics and I know I am deeply, unspeakably blessed. So why I am not content? How can I create freedom for myself when there appears to be none? When will I luxuriate in the freedom that is most certainly mine? And if I do discover newfound pockets of freedom, what then? Will I spend it on myself or do something that might just have an impact on eternity?

These are things I think about as I drive and think and whisper Laurie Berkner lyrics to myself on the way home.

Obama Insight

It's been quiet here, but only because things are not quiet offline. We've been weathering tummy bugs and teething woes and those two things have been more than enough to keep my hands too busy to type.

I did come across something at Christianity Today I wanted to share. I hear there are some emails flying around (again) about Barak Obama practicing Islam. If you have received such an email, or even if you haven't, I encourage you to check out this article for a Q&A with Senator Obama. It's a quick read and highly informative!

Christianity Today Q&A with Barak Obama

Unscheduled

TO-DO, Monday:

Weekly Home Blessing
launder bed linens
balance checkbook
menu plan and grocery list
target (maybe)

Noticeably Absent From My List, but Priority Number One On Aliza Joy's List:

Wake up for a party in the middle of the night
Invited guests - Mom and me
Party for an hour
When it looks like Mom is sufficiently partied out, fall contentedly back to sleep

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Although it's not my idea of fun, there is something sorta magical about being up in the middle of the night. It's so deeply, darkly quiet. The humming of baby monitor static is the only accompaniment to the lyrical thoughts that get shoved to the side during the day.

At about 3 am this morning, I was in the dark, quiet living room bouncing AJ in my arms and indulging in a stolen moment with the Lord. How long had it been since we were able to talk with no interruptions? I asked Him how on earth I was going to be able to function the next day, what with this unscheduled appointment nearly guaranteeing a slow-down to the day's master plan?

These words gently filled my mind . . .

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 2 Cor. 12:9 (NIV)

Sometimes it seems as if there is no rest for the weary. How it ministers to me to know I don't have to do this thing by my(weak)self.

In which I discover I really I am a fool

In every person's life, situations and circumstances come along that reveal the truth and depth of character that person possesses. Sometimes these situations and circumstances are big. Life-changing. Other times, it's an utterly ordinary scene that exposes the ugly hiding beneath the pretty.

A crucible, if you will.

There are few places on this planet that turn up the heat on my own personal crucible as hot as the open-twenty-four-hours-a-day-seven-days-a-week flame that is WalMart. And I'll tell you where I get singed every time . . . Not when I am walking the three point eight miles from one end of the store to the other because I forgot that now they stock the watercolors in the back by the toys and not in the front by the office supplies like they used to. It's not the snarly employees or the crying babies or the skanky bathrooms or even the mealy produce of questionable freshness. It's the check-out line. Every stinkin' time.

And so the last time I was there, I had AJ strapped on in the mei tai carrier and D riding shotgun in the cart which was filled to the brim with our weekly groceries. And wouldn't you know it? Wouldn't you just know it? At the Not-So-Okay Corral of check-out lanes, there were exactly two regular lanes open, two express lanes, and then the self check-out lanes. All of those were open, you bet.

Now I might not be the smartest mama on the block, but I do know better than to purposefully station myself in an already painfully long line near the check-out counters with a toddler in tow. A toddler who to this point had been amazingly patient and gracious while her mother zoomed her up and down the aisles, but a toddler, nonetheless, who was also known to go a little nutso upon spying the deliberately placed goodies next to the counters. After all, who can resist the glittery packs of gum? And what of the light-up pens? And the plethora of Dora playing cards? And the siren's song of just one more sippy cup?

So the two (and I am really not exaggerating for effect here, ladies, there were two) regular lanes were out. Express lane? Sure. Yeah, that's out. And what does that leave us with? Those darn self check-out lines.

Deep breath. Don't curse. She's talking now, remember?

No lines at the self check. So that's good. I start throwing things on the mini conveyor belt, muttering to myself about how this the last time, the last time I tell ya!, I will be shopping at WalMart and I am gonna go home and write me a letter, that's what I'm gonna do, and on and on. Meanwhile, a sort of (how shall I say this?) scruffy looking middle-age man gets in line behind me and starts chatting me up. I glared glanced at him and sorta half-heartedly responded to his attempts to chit-chat, but what I really wanted to do was bring about violent retribution on the check-out machine because every single time I tried to swipe an item, it would wait about five seconds and then instruct me to place the item in the bag and if I didn't do this on it's time frame, it froze up and I had to start all over.

Must. Not. Hurt. Anyone.

So I think you get the picture. By the time I endured that ordeal, I was exhausted. And annoyed. Annoyed with Chatty McSmall Talk, annoyed with WalMart, annoyed with the world.

Well, not at all coincidentally, the next day I was looking up a word in my Bible's concordance, and as I glanced through the listings, a word jumped out at me. Annoyance. I sorta chuckled and thought, "I don't remember annoyance showing up in Scripture." Curious, I turned to the lone verse listed under annoyance.

A fool shows his annoyance at once,
but a prudent man overlooks an insult. Proverbs 12:16, NIV

Well, hello Conviction. Good to see you.

Again.

Must share

Hey ya'll. Just popping in to say, go read this at It's Almost Naptime.

May it comfort and inspire you as much as it has comforted and inspired me.

Back soon.

Thankful

Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.

James 1:17 (NASB)

Verily

Woe, woe unto thee, foolish woman! For thou hast committed a grievous error. In thy foolishness, thou hast chosen to gather food for thine household on a day of unparalleled madness in the market of thine city.

Dost thou not know? Hast thou not heart? The Lord spake unto the a command, “Do not enter into the marketplace of the city on the day preceding the feast of Thanksgiving. To do so would be great folly. Travel to the marketplace earlier in the week and by doing so save yourself from great sorrow.”

But you, O woman, you have neglected the Lord’s command. And this shall be your punishment.

You shall find the marketplace to be in great chaos, just as it was prophesied unto you. In the aisles there will be cursing, gnashing of teeth, casting of evil glances, great and heavy sighs of aggravation, and the wailing of young children. Ye shall find the aisle of spices and flour to be depleted; verily, ye shall look for the cinnamon sticks but the cinnamon sticks shall not be found.

For the schools have released the schoolchildren and the wives have sent their husbands with their children to the market. But the children and the husbands do not keep the holy laws of the marketplace. They have no understanding of the teaching which says, “Thou shalt not stand in one place reading labels whilst others need to pass by you, for doing so will cause the people to have great anger burning in their hearts against you. Verily, it would be better to cast your fatted calf to the dogs than to cause the flow of cart traffic to be obstructed and provoke the people to burn with indignation.”

And yet, O woman, after you have endured the trials and tribulations of the punishment set before you, the punishment for thy great and grievous error, ye shall escape from your ordeal unharmed. And as thou packest the food for thine household into thy car, a new song will be in thine mouth. A song of praise, for the Lord our God has been good to you.

Verily, I say unto thee, the Lord God, Jehovah Jireh - God our Provider - He hath provided for thee indeed.

SortaCrunchy Q&A #2 - Raising Girls

What worries you most about raising daughters?

This question, from my sweet friend Corey at Living and Loving Every Minute of It, has prompted a lot of reflection for me.

I remember with vivid accuracy how elated I was when the ultrasound tech moved the wand over my belly and proclaimed over D, "It's a girl!" Over the moon, I was. Visions of sugar and spice, of tutus and dress-up heels, of shopping for prom dresses and a wedding dress, began to dance in my head. "A girl baby! A girl baby!" my nieces shrieked when they were told our happy news. Little girls and grown-up girls alike go a little ga-ga over brand new bundles of pink and sweet. Gazing into those baby girl eyes, we imagine a sparkly future replete with all the glittery memories of our own girlhoods. Pigtails and baby dolls. Slumber parties and puppy love. Phone calls and pom-pons.

As a mother to not one, but now two, little visions in pink, I daydream those sunny futures for my girls. And as a mother, I am sometimes gripped with extraordinary fear when my thoughts take a turn down darker paths. Sometimes it's a story on the news that triggers a nearly paralyzing reaction in me as I consider what evil could be waiting to prey on my precious daughters. Other times, a flash of memory from my own past takes my breath away as I consider how painful it can be to grow from girl to woman. So yes, in the midst of the ribbons and bows, I worry.

For I know all too well the sting of a best friend's rejection . . . She doesn't want to be my friend anymore.

I know the heartache of not being good enough . . . My name wasn't on the list.

I know the sorrow of a broken heart . . . He just wants to be friends.

I know that even if I confined my daughters to our house, that somehow the hurt and the sad would still find its way in. I guess what worries me most is that I am helpless to protect them from the scrapes and stings and tears and blue that are all part of being wrapped up in this skin called woman. I am as helpless as my own mother was to protect me from the many dramas (both real and imagined) that she walked me through and talked me through. As each of us know, those lows that come with the highs and the pain that comes with the joy are all part of what makes us who we are as women. I'll always be fighting that urge to protect them, even as I loosen my grip on their hands to allow them freedom to experience this life for themselves.

There is so much to be tempted to worry over. In the face of that worry, I am reminded to pray. I pray so much for my daughters, but my most earnest request for each is that the love they fall for first would be the ever-pursuing, ever-steady love of The Bridegroom. For if each of my daughters is rooted and established in the love of Christ first and foremost, I can be sure that when the day of hurt and heartbreak finds them, they will have a safe place to land . . . in His Arms.

Who are you talking about?

A few weeks ago, I heard through the family grapevine that one of my family members had made some comments about D and my parenting choices that were very, very hurtful. Well, not so much the parenting choices because this family member doesn't have children and that can affect how you view the parenting styles of those around you. But the comments this person made about D's personality and development were so painful to hear, I actually cried when these statements were shared with me.

After I had some time to get a hold of myself, I felt the Lord prompting at my heart.

And so, are you ready to forgive him?

A few summers ago, the Lord used a wonderful book study to help me truly learn that as a Christian, I can forgive anyone of anything at any time. He is quick to call me on any unforgiveness I allow to start festering in my heart and nearly always quickens my spirit with the words of Hebrews 12:15, "See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many." (NIV)

As I nursed my wounds over this family member's statements, I already knew this question from the Lord would be coming. As soon as I felt that prompting in my spirit, I was all ready with my defense.

"I know you want me to forgive him, Father, but you gotta cut me slack. This is my child we are talking about! My sweet, innocent, lovely daughter, whom You created by the way, and the things he said were just. so. wrong."

Ah, but our Father, He reminded me that I am to see to it that I extend grace to this person. The same grace extended to me when I do things that are just. so. wrong.

I surrendered up my hurt over these statements and allowed the work of forgiveness to be worked out in my heart through the power of Christ Jesus, in whom I have the ability to forgive.

It was after this that I began to think about how deeply painful it is for parents to hear their child being spoken about in a way that is less than loving. Hmmmm, less than loving. How many times have I spoken about people in a way that is less than loving? The ease with which I use my tongue for gossip . . . the judgmental declarations over that person whom I really know nothing about . . . the biting and secret sarcasm to cut down the very family member who had so badly hurt my feelings.

I have to wonder if each time I speak about anyone in a way meant to disparage rather than build-up, does our Heavenly Father cringe with the same anguish I felt when I heard was spoken about D? Is that person not also His child?

When God allowed those things my family member had said to be revealed to me, He knew exactly what He was doing. He was taming my tongue by speaking to me in a language I am fully immersed in the knowledge of - parenthood. More and more I find that when I am tempted to gossip or slander or curse or judge, I stop myself with the reminder that this person is Someone's child.

"With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be." James 3:9-10 (NIV)

Come and see what the Lord has done . . .

A few weeks ago, I shared thirteen areas of my life that testify to the fact that my life is very much a work in progress. As I concluded that list, I made the statement that perhaps I should share thirteen areas where the Lord God has brought victory to my life. Strangely, I feel much more hesitant in sharing these areas of victory than in openly sharing my imperfections. Basically, I just don't want to let God down, and I certainly don't want to embarrass Him or His Name with my words. It's easy for me to blather on about myself . . . not so easy to try to speak to the mightiness that is my God. And yet I feel that a follow-up in order because I don't want my insecurities to preclude testimony to His glory over what HE has done in my life.

As I reflected on how and what to share, a theme of freedom continually rose to the surface. I was reminded of the Apostle Paul's words in Galatians 5:1 "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free . . ." (NIV). I want to share these areas of victory in my life all within the context of this freedom I have found in Christ.

Personal freedom
1. Freedom from fear
2. Freedom from worry

In my Fine Lady post, I mentioned that I struggle with fear, but the struggles I encounter today are nothing compared to the bondage in which I used to live. I come from a long line of fearful people who can turn the most trivial of circumstances into shrines of worry. I used to believe, "Well, I am just worrier. That's how I was raised, it's in my genes, that's what I am destined to be." In the past ten years, God has shown me that this is most certainly not the case! I am free to live life free from fear and free from worry because I have chosen to serve a Savior who encourages His followers with "Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid" (John 14:27). It's true - my first instinct when a troubling situation comes up is to panic or fret, but day by day, God is leading me to a life more victorious over this tendency.

3. Freedom to be sure of my identity in Christ
The enemy, the accuser of the brethen, is quite adept at dancing in front of the eyes of my mind images and remembrances meant to keep me in bondage to my sin and to my past. Just as surely as the Lord God has a plan for my life, so does the enemy of my soul. Part of his scheme for my life is to go around with a distorted image of myself and of my God.
Based on the truths of Ephesians 1:3-8, I find freedom in refuting the enemy's attacks by choosing to believe I am loved, blessed, chosen, adopted, accepted, redeemed, and forgiven.

Freedom in my marriage
4. Freedom to practice biblical submission
Surely this sounds to some like a contradiction in terms. Free to submit? Yet God has allowed me to discover through some powerful teaching and even more powerful life experiences that there is indeed freedom for a wife who is willing to allow her husband to be the leader of the home. I could write a lot more on this (and maybe I will another time) but this is surely at the top of the list of victories God has done in me in our marriage.

5. Freedom to open myself to emotional intimacy with my husband
It would not have been possible except through the work of God in my heart for me to be able to reveal to and trust my husband with the heartaches and heartbreaks I brought to our marriage.

6. Freedom in mental purity and fidelity
For years after we married, I struggled with mental fidelity. Anytime I was mad at my husband, I would retreat to a fantasy life in which I had married someone else, someone who surely better understands me, better meets my needs. I don't want to dishonor my husband or our marriage by revealing anything beyond that, but I do have to say that God used the book Every Woman's Battle to bring about much victory and much freedom in me and in our marriage.

7. Freedom not to rely on my husband to have my every need met
What wonderous freedom there is in discovering that my husband is just a human being (just like me!) and that he can't possibly fulfill my every need and desire. It really lets him off the hook when I choose not to live in bondage to our culture's message that his purpose on this planet is to make sure I am fulfilled in every way, every day.

Freedom in relationships
8. Freedom from emotional manipulation from others
Again, this is an area in which I don't want to dishonor anyone, so I will say briefly that there are those in my extended family who have fine-tuned the practice of emotional blackmail and manipulation to the point where I was in deep bondage to their every thought, feeling, and crisis. God has gently led me to understand I am not responsible for their choices or for their reactions to my choices. When confronted with this type of manipulation, I have the freedom to find peace in that.

9 and 10. Freedom in the area of finances and jealousy
For whatever reason, God has not (yet) seen fit to bless us with an overflow of material wealth. (I sorta have a sneaking suspicion that He thinks maybe we can't handle it. I sorta agree.)
It's very hard for me to forgo the poisons of jealousy when for much our married life we have found ourselves in groups of friends who do have much more than we have (materially). And this led us to be irresponsible with the resources God entrusted to us. Finally, finally, we are both allowing God to work in both of our hearts to convict us of our sins in these areas and restore us to the wholeness that comes with being " . . . content in any and every situation . . ." (Phil. 4:12 NIV).

11. Freedom to be a stay at home mama
Simply put, being a SAHM to our children is the realization and fruition of a life-long dream for me. Certainly we struggle financially. Certainly, I struggle in all areas of motherhood. But to be able to live out this dream, this calling on my life . . . there is a sweetness of liberty here that I am unable to put words to.

12. Freedom to forgive
Earlier this year, my father chose to end a thirty-two year marriage to my mother. I truly don't think I could ever, ever, tell the volumes I have learned about forgiveness in the past year. What I can share is that I now know I can forgive anyone of anything at any time. Am I called always to restoration of relationship? No. Am I called to put my trust in a person again? No. But I am called to rely on the power of Christ to practice forgiveness if for no other reason than I am willing to accept the forgiveness afforded to me through Christ.

13. Freedom from religion
I am one of those born and raised in The Church. Southern Baptist since nine months before I was born. Hardly ever missed a Sunday School class, Girls in Action meeting, or youth group function. I accepted Christ as the Lord and Savior of my life at the age of six, and so it would be easy for me to coast through life with my grape Kool Aid and graham cracker theology and my handy fire insurance policy. But oh, my God was not content to settle for that. In my early twenties, He aroused an awakening within me that opened my eyes to what relationship with Him looks like lived out. I am coming to know more and more every day that God is - as Beth Moore writes in her study on Daniel - "relational to the core." Every single one of these freedoms find root in the tender beckoning for relationship from a God who loves me like no other.

Perfect? Hardly. Again, my Fine Lady list testifies to that. And ya'll don't even know what I chose to leave off that list! But free? Oh yes, glory to God.

"I heard about His healing,
Of His cleansing pow'r revealing.
How He made the lame to walk again
And caused the blind to see;
And then I cried, "Dear Jesus,
Come and heal my broken spirit,"
And somehow Jesus came and bro't
To me the victory."
(Victory in Jesus, words and music by E.M. Barlett, 1939)

See the fine lady upon the high horse . . .

(Very quick follow-up to some of the skeptical comments regarding the amount of sugar in our sweet tea . . . I shared these with The Coach and he told me to tell ya'll that if you think that's too much sugar, then you don't really want sweet tea. You want iced tea with some sweet in it; we like ours to be sweet with a little tea . . .)

Four days into my first real teaching position, I did a crazy thing. I asked my students to write me a note with comments and suggestions on how our first week of school was going. I have never gotten over what one of my students wrote to me:

You're doing a great job and all, but I think you need to get down off of your high horse and realize we are high school students and we like to have a little fun . . . (it's been a few years and I can't remember the rest of his critique)

Once I recovered from the sting of a high school junior telling me to get off my high horse, I took some time to reflect on the truth in the message. Not surprisingly, it wasn't the first time I had been told I needed to get off my high horse. When the exact same phrase comes up again and again in relation to how people experience you, Lady Wisdom invites you to pause and reflect.

The truth is, I do struggle with a judgmental spirit. The truth is I have confessed this many times, yet still find myself getting a little too big for my britches. (And I gotta tell ya, size large maternity britches are pretty darn big, so you can just imagine . . .) The truth is I know God is opening my eyes to this same struggle once again by way of Scripture, sermons, and even blog entries like this one from BooMama.

So today I offer a Thursday Thirteen that is mostly a reminder to myself that there are many, many areas of my life that offer a big helping of humility . . . more than enough to keep me away from the "well, at least I don't do that" buffet in my mind.

1. I lack self-control. I am well on my way to gaining even more weight with this pregnancy than I did with D. And it's not because I am just one of those women who gains a lot of weight while pregnant; it's because as soon as the stick shows a positive, I abandon all I know to be true about good nutrition and overindulge with chocolate, cookies, and all manner of fats. I suppose the sweet tea doesn't help either.
2. I lack gratitude. Even though I have declared that I want to be responsible with sending thank you notes for every gift I receive in the next year, I have yet to write a single note of gratitude for any birthday gift I received last month.
3. I am dishonest. Though the Lord has brought about much victory in this area for me, I confess that when a situation comes up that I don't want to deal with, my very first reaction is to make up an excuse to get out of or around it.
4. I am a lawbreaker. There is rarely a time you will find me driving the speed limit on the interstate. It's nearly always just a hair over.
5. I am selfish. I have been known to contrive and manipulate situations to my advantage, even and especially within my own family.
6. I am a bad citizen. I haven't voted in an election since 2000. And I don't return my shopping carts to the parking lot corrals at Big Mart.
7. I don't live up to my own ideals. Though I am a passionate advocate of cloth diapers for the health of our planet and the health of my child, D has been in disposables since a month before we moved because I am just too tired to get her cloth diapers out and use them.
8. I am lazy. I haven't exercised regularly since two weeks after I found out I was pregnant. With D.
9. I am materialistic. I like stuff.
10. I lack focus. I am leading a Bible study this summer that I participated in last fall, and I decided to be frugal cheap and just use the same book this summer. Since all of the answers are already filled in, I feel like I have been phoning it in for the homework part of this Bible study instead of investing in discovering new answers and insights.
11. I am a worrier. I have more faith in my fear than in my God.
12. Have I mentioned I have a judgmental spirit?
13. I haven't had a haircut in six months.

Now, lest you misunderstand, this is not intended to be a "woe is me! I am so flawed, so broken, so unworthy" kind of post. The last thing I want to do is share this in a spirit of self-deprecation cloaked in false humility as a twisted way of boosting my self-esteem. Nor would I want in any way to dishonor the vast amounts of work God has done in this heart of mine. (In fact, maybe next week I will share thirteen victories that all give glory to God.) Nope, this is just a note to self. Having grown up in Oklahoma, I know there are two ways down from any horse - the hard way and the easy way. The easy way allows you to keep most of your dignity intact, not to mention keeping your clothes clean. The hard way hurts and usually involves a splash in a puddle of mud. As much as it has rained here this summer, the mud puddles are fresh and plentiful around here, so me and my too-tight riding britches are getting down from this high horse of my own volition. Besides, I think I heard someone ringing the dinner bell over at the chuck wagon. Wonder if they have any sweet tea . . .

To her Daddy

Father's Day! Before I forget, Happy Father's Day to my sweet husband and to all of the fathers out there.

As I was purging and packing last week, I came across a little something I had written years ago when I was teaching. I could just kick myself for not dating this or noting to myself the occasion for having written it . . . all I know is I must have written it at school because it's scribbled on stationery I used only in my classroom.

I have debated all week on whether or not to publish it here. It's pretty simplistic and cutesy and almost cheesy, but it illustrates an aspect of my relationship with God that has never been more real to me than in the past year. My relationship with my father is complicated. I love him, of course . . . but the word that best defines the way I experience my father is unsteady. Because I have never really been able to rely on my earthly father for stability, I have been able to experience the unchanging, ever-reliable love of my Heavenly Father with such sweet depth that I have the freedom to love my earthly father just for who he is. And that allows me the freedom to rejoice in the truth of Romans 8:15 where the Apostle Paul writes, ". . . the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, 'Abba, Father.' "

Again, I can't remember the exact circumstances that prompted this little writing. Please know that I never feel more naked and exposed than when I share my writing with anyone, but I feel sharing this is one way of living out my desire to be more authentic with what I write here.

A Little Girl To Her Daddy

Daddy, I don't feel good.
You don't feel good? Show me where it hurts.
Right here.
Your heart?
Uh-huh. My heart hurts.
Why does your heart hurt?
I think it's broken.
Child, how did your heart get broken? Tell me what happened.
Well, it all started when I had an idea. It was just a thought, really. Then it started to grow. I took care of it and loved it and watched it bloom. That thought grew into a dream. It was a good dream, Daddy, one that I really wanted to come true. I thought it would make me happy. But now I know it won't be coming true. And that's why my heart hurts.
Oh my child, I understand what has happened. You set your heart on a dream, a beautiful dream that you believed I wanted to come true for you. Your heart began to race and soar at the thought of this dream becoming big and true and real. The moment your heart broke is the moment you thought your beautiful and well-cared for dream had withered and died.
But look, child.
Your dream isn't dead at all. You just don't recognize it because it's changing. Little one, I know your heart and I know your dreams. You wanted to follow this dream as it bloomed down this path because this path looked like happiness.
But I know this path, and I know that in the end, it wouldn't bring you happiness; instead, it would bring you hurt. I want to protect you because that's what Daddies do. And that's why I'm not going to allow you to go down that path. That's why I am tending to your dream and helping it to grow and change.
I know your heart hurts right now. Put it in My Hands and I will heal it. Then take My Hand and hold on tight because that dream is growing and changing into something far more beautiful than you ever imagined it could be. I can't wait to show you all I have planned to keep your spirit soaring.

Thank you, Daddy. I feel better already.

Changes in latitude, changes in attitude . . .

Happy, happy Friday morning to ya, sweet friends and readers!

Two BIG things:

1) Changes in latitude - Today is the day we pick up the keys to our First! Ever! House! Nine years of apartment living have been, well, okay. God has provided exactly what we needed at exactly the right time. But from the day we stepped off the plane from our honeymoon and drove home to our Married Student Housing hovel apartment, I've had a burning desire and unceasing ache in my soul to have a little house to come home to. We are literally changing our latitude by a few clicks on the compass as our move will take us from the very south edge of our little Hill Country town all the way up to the north edge. I am so excited for a new neighborhood! You can be sure there will be more on this later . . .

2) Changes in attitude - SO! What do you think of SortaCrunchy's new look?! I am so thrilled by Jules's work! The most gorgeous surprise in all of this was that I had told her that my favorite color is purple, but I wasn't sure how that could fit into the overall vision I had for SortaCrunchy. Imagine my delight in how she found a way to make it work perfectly!! Thank you, thank you again, Jules. And for all my blogarina friends who are thinkin' about a makeover of your own, I cannot say enough good things about working with Jules!

Hand in hand with the new look here will be some changes to content. For a long time, I tried to focus my posts on parenting issues - natural parenting, specifically. At this point, however, I feel I am not being true to the complete picture of my sortacrunchy self because I have refrained from incorporating my spiritual beliefs in my writing. I know it's taking a slight risk because I know that several (many?) of my readers differ from me in spiritual backgrounds and beliefs, and so I hope I don't drive anyone away with this new direction. My overall vision is to allow this blog to represent the intersection between a faith in Christ (and what that looks like lived out) and choosing natural living as part of life on this planet. I am a little scared but mostly a lot excited to see how this will play out.

Thanks for being such amazing readers and friends. Stay tuned!