Wondering What to Wear?

Consider the lilies of the field . . .

Both photos were taken with an iPhone 5, in my yard, today.

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Birthday Cake Anyone?

While it’s not unique to have a birthday, recent circumstances provide me with a fresh perspective for this birthday.

Last week I returned from a six-week trip to East Asia. A few hours, visiting an orphanage, were the most difficult of my stay. The children aren’t awaiting foster-care or adoption. Neither is a possibility for them. They’re home—a home that took my breath away because of the stench. Nannies stared at a television as they peeled apples and changed diapers. I fought back tears as I held babies and sang Jesus Loves You.

It’s impossible to have been in that place and not be effected. And honestly, I was glad when it was time to leave. I can’t imagine calling that place home.

There’s not been one moment when someone didn’t care for me as their child, sibling, or spouse. My life has always been, and is, cherished. Modeled after the generous, unending and sacrificial love of Christ, my family’s love is an unwavering gift. Too often I’ve failed to realize its rarity.

This year I grieve over thrown-away children and broken vows—everywhere, all the time. I also celebrate those who’ve pressed on and chosen to love.

I delight in our adopted grandsons (and their siblings and cousin).  Reading, singing, tickling, hugging, and celebrating achievements are treasured moments. I’m thankful my children were sensitive to the call of the Father to open their arms wider.

Balloons, ribbon, wrapping paper, and cake seem so frivolous and extravagant. But, in some ways, so called for—a celebration of life and love!

I had one childhood birthday party. My mother wrote on the invitations, “No gifts, please.” Over the years, she made a few birthday cakes. When I was old enough, if I wanted a cake, I made it myself. Mother never embraced typical birthday celebrations. I wish I could discuss that choice with her today.

I’m torn. Should I be in the kitchen baking? It’s not about me, it’s about celebrating life.

My nearly three-year-old granddaughter has been looking forward to cake for weeks. Her wait is down to eleven days. For her, I’m pretty sure it’s about love. Those birthday cupcakes will make her feel special. And she is.

You are too!

If you like cake, bake one today—on my birthday—and celebrate love given to you by family, friends, and God.

Happy Day!

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Do You Want a Tidy Home?

I would’ve been embarrassed, but I was too happy.

My fiancée and I drove from our college campus to my hometown. It was our first visit with my parents since we announced our engagement. Excited to show off my diamond ring, I heard wedding bells. Randy didn’t. He listened as my mother said, “I’m not sure I could live with myself if I didn’t tell you: I tried to teach her to clean up after herself.”

I may be slightly off on the quote, it’s been a while. But I promise, the sentiment is accurate.

After my mother’s statement, Randy and I looked at one another and smiled. I knew, when I wanted to, I could keep a neat house.

Mr. Organization and I handled the household until our second child arrived. Then my mother’s words replayed in my mind.

I wanted a clean and tidy home, laundry caught up, meals planned, and our children cared for and loved. How?

I wasn’t alone in my struggle. Lisa told me about a book she’d bought as we chatted on the phone one evening. I was excited: help seemed to be on the way.

The next day, at my request, my husband stopped at the local bookstore and picked up a copy of: Sidetracked Home Executives: From Pigpen to Paradise. My favorite quote was, “We change lives with 3 x 5’s.”

The sister-authors were right. My life was changed by working through my daily, weekly, and monthly index cards.

Not long afterward I talked with Paula, my sister-in-law. She told me about a book she’d checked out at the library. Her life was changed too.

The book was inspiring and hilarious. Since then, I’ve read dozens of books on housecleaning, organizing, and time management. Each one offers new insights and tips for my role.

But Sidetracked Home Executives remains my favorite. The index cards were tossed long ago but the text provided a tangible job description and equipped me with the tools to fulfill it.

If you feel as desperate as I did, I assure you—if you truly want to, you can keep a clean and orderly home. Flylady may be your life-changer. Flylady’s method is based on the slob-sister’s book.

Naturally neat and tidy? Perhaps you need a little structure, consider the Home Routines App to keep up with household tasks. It’s replaced my index cards and Flylady emails.

My turning point came when the Sidetracked Sisters showed me the extent of my role and I realized being responsible is easier than being irresponsible. (See my previous post: The Lazy Woman’s Guide to Home Management.)

Unfortunately, my mother didn’t live long enough to see how well I learned to clean up after myself and others. I think she’d be proud.

What resources have aided you in your role as a home executive?

This photo shows my mother enjoying our first two children. She died two months before our third child arrived. I hope her qualms about my homemaking skills had ended.

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No Laughing Matter: A Confession

The Bible passage I read six days ago wasn’t new to me. It may have been the first time I saw myself in the story though.

I wish I’d seen my character in prayerful Hannah, Virtuous Val, righteous Elizabeth, or the favored mother of Jesus. I didn’t.

The passage I read was Genesis 18:1-15. Sarah, inside a tent, followed her husband’s request. She made bread for their guests.

I make bread for my guests.

Sarah’s hands were busy but her ears were attuned. With no crying babies, giggling toddlers, or rambunctious teenagers to look after, Sarah kneaded dough in silence.

The words spoken outside the tent were clear: “Next year, your wife, Sarah will have a son!”

She laughed.

I probably would’ve too.

 “How could a worn-out woman, with an old husband, have children?”

I answered Sarah’s logical question. She can’t.

When Sarah gazed at her childbearing friends, her body looked nothing like theirs. Sarah’s tears and cycle ended long before she heard those ridiculous words.

Then came a bigger jolt.

“Why laugh? Is anything too hard for the LORD?”

Sarah denied her laughter. I heard mine.

Wounds reopened, the uncertain future frightened Sarah. She’d dreamed before, month after month.

I have unfulfilled desires.

Sarah swept the breadcrumbs and hope out of the tent. Again.

But she fixated on the question: “Is anything too hard for the LORD?”

It’s consuming my thoughts too.

There’s only one right answer: “No. Nothing is too hard for Him.”

I confess I’m like Sarah. Nearly every day I laugh at God’s promises. I don’t giggle but my reflex is often a scoff of disbelief.

Here are some examples.

• Psalm 37:4 says if I’ll delight in the LORD, He’ll give me the desires of my heart. My response is often, “Yea, right!”

• Psalm 139:14 tells me I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I look in the mirror, compare myself to friends, and chuckle, “Fearful at least!”

• John 15:7 invites me to ask for anything and it will be done. Too often, I don’t even ask.

What about you?

LORD God I want to trust your words. I know they’re true. Please forgive me for the many times I dismiss them with a snicker. Help me avoid impatience and comparisons. I want to keep my eyes and ears focused on You.

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Knitter or Knot?

I’m not a knitter.

Two years ago I told my daughter, “I don’t want to be a knitter. But I’d like to make baby hats for gifts.” Audri, an avid crafter, sent me a birthday package with everything I needed to knit baby hats, including a coupon for free knitting lessons via Skype.

Audri is a terrific instructor and the gift was a favorite. But soon I forgot I wasn’t a knitter. I knit Christmas stockings, toys, and hats

I had to remind myself I didn’t/don’t need something else to fill my time.

Knitting is fun, except when it’s not.

Not fun:

• When I drop a stitch.
• When the yarn is a huge, tangled mess.
• When I have to tink (knit backwards) and redo something.
• When neckwear doesn’t fit over my head.
• When I lose my place on a pattern.
• When I knit through time reserved for a priority.

During the past week I’ve been knitting. I encountered many not fun moments. The yarn was a hunk of knots. But knitting was the perfect activity while sick. It provided a sense of accomplishment while I coughed and rested. Thankfully loving family members took time to untangle my mess. (Thank you Randy and Karissa!)

As a non-knitter I’ve learned some things while knitting.

Routine knitting takes very little thought; it’s simply repetitive motion. But, at its’ worst or best depending on your perspective, knitting is challenging and complex. When problems are encountered, the knitter (or non-knitter if it’s me) needs to read the detail of the stitches to make corrections. During the undoing and redoing of stitches the intricate miracles of the woven fiber are revealed.

In my disappointment with the mess of my tangled yarn, I wondered that anything ever results from poking my sticks and looping my yarn. And yet, when I get an inside look at how knitting works, it’s amazing.

Isn’t life the same way?

When days flow smoothly, according to schedule, there’s a tendency to blindly miss the miracles: the treasure of relationships, the delight in efficient appliances and vehicles, and the comfort of a cough-free afternoon.

When weeks are filled with snarls we look closely, wish things were different, and often glimpse a fresh view of God’s handiwork.

God knits differently than I do. He is the Master. He doesn’t start a project and then set it aside. He doesn’t make mistakes. He doesn’t google search to see what to do next.

Every stitch of His project is placed with accuracy. Every loop that’s wrapped has purpose. When it looks like a mess to me, He’s faithfully stitching.

Does your life seem messed up? Look again.

For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.—Psalm 139:13-14, ESV

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