Month: February 2012

It’s My Birthday

It’s my birthday, February 27th.

I’m in a fetal position in my warm bed, resting, waiting in the dark; not unlike the first nine months of my existence in mother’s womb. When it’s time to emerge from my bed, I stumble to the bathroom sink where the overhead light makes me squint like a newborn babe. But an AARP woman looks back at me from the mirror.

Do I feel another year older?

No, just another day older. Although lately, I feel like I’m going through an age spurt.

I cringe at my reflection, the naked face before I paint it with mascara and under eye concealer. I pull my cheeks towards my temples, erasing the lines, tightening the pores; and wish someone would invent flesh-colored staples.

Remember being a pimple-faced teen and the school boy who called me “ugly.” Decades later, I don’t feel any lovelier, but the cosmetic industry has thrived promising me, and a million other women, the “perfect face.” Who invented mirrors?

And let’s not even talk about the pull of gravity on my body. A Burka would be a nice addition to my ward robe, but I don’t look good in black.

But enough of that! No use bemoaning the inevitability of age.

I touch the crow’s feet next to my eyes and thank God for laughter. I trace the lips that planted a thousand kisses on my loved ones, the eyes able to see God’s wonders. I even bless the bump on the bride of my nose that caused my younger brother to call me ‘Barbra Streisand’ while we were growing up. It’s all good…….

“I will give thanks to God, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” (Psalm 139:14)

It’s my birthday, and I refuse to read the article that pops up on my AOL news, “Secrets to Staying Slim at Your Age,” I kid you not!

Instead, I meet with my creator, the omnipotent One who weaved me in my mother’s womb. The omniscient One who knows the days that “were ordained for me,” the omnipresent One who loves me with an everlasting love.

I turn the dog-eared pages of my Bible and see my history unfold like a diary. There’s the tear-stained calendar dates written in the margins, next to scripture that nourished me in hard times and gave me hope. I see the small hearts drawn next to words that exemplified God’s character. Notice the tiny handwritten notes and underlined verses made during sermons.

It’s my birthday, and I am happy knowing: “Since my youth, O God, you have taught me, and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds. Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, O God, till I declare your power to the next generation, your might to all who are to come.” (Psalm 71:17, 18)

Seek and Find

Rather than pull the blanket over my head, I make myself get out of bed with dawn’s first light and meet with the Most High God.

I ignore my “to-do list,” the one scrawled in ink the night before, in favor of the one thing I can’t ignore: Intimacy with God.

The past week entailed church, women’s Bible study, jail ministry, and a Christian writers group. Wasn’t there enough of God in my week?

Never enough. Besides, serving the Lord and learning about Him doesn’t replace being alone in His presence. I need that one-on-one.

Unlike intercessory prayer or Bible study, I come before Him with no personal agenda. The pine trees outside my window are bathed in bronze light as the sun rays peer over my roof. Surely God is in this place. I am still and Know that He is God.

If only I could stretch the hour and worship Him on the mountain top without interruption, but duty calls. I leave my sweet spot, my space with God, and rouse my sleeping son for school.

 As I spread mayonnaise on wheat bread, I remember this morning’s verse, “Now to each one is given the manifestation of the Spirit (the evidence, the spiritual illumination of the Holy Spirit) for the common good.” (1 Corinthians 12:7)

Not my good, but the common good. Life isn’t all about me.

I bend my knee, and surrender the day to Him. You’re will, Lord. Not mine.

Drop my son off at school, drive to the local shopping center, and park. Just before I walk into the dry cleaners, my cell phone rings. I pause my agenda to greet the voice of a long-distance friend. We haven’t spoken in months, but I’m not surprised. I knew God would make Himself known. I knew He’d bring the unexpected. And I tell her so.

We talk, sharing words of encouragement and conviction. We share what His Spirit puts on our hearts, for the common good so the body of Christ is built up.

I stand outside; talking on the phone, stand between the dry cleaners and grocery store. And my skin tingles. Surely God is in this place too.

“To the degree that we seek Him, we will find Him.”  

Who said Life is Easy?

“What do you want for dinner?” I asked.

Tired of that question, my husband purchased me a cookbook that resembled an encyclopedia.I scanned its 800 pages and chose an easy recipe. Put softened butter under the skin of two whole chicken breasts, spread vegetable oil on top of the skin, and bake at 450 for 40 minutes.

In addition, I sliced sweet potatoes and roasted them on a cookie sheet in the lower oven while I steamed broccoli. Since I left nothing to chance and double-checked the instructions, I was aghast when I opened the oven door and a trail of smoke ascended into the air. Blackened chicken, still pink on the inside, sizzled in a pool of hot grease that dripped into the oven like lava.

My husband followed his nose to the kitchen and rescued the sweet potatoes stuck to aluminum foil as I dodged splattering grease to retrieve my chicken breasts. Dinner was a fiasco, not a feast.

Improvising, I bathed the chicken with instant, brown gravy. After one bite, I pushed aside my plate and  watched my husband and son chew the tough, dry chicken as though it were roadkill. To their credit, they didn’t complain, but then again, there was a carving knife in my hand.

My appetite, along with my good mood, disappeared. I pledged allegiance to Betty Crocker’s faithful culinary advice, and went to the sink. While I scrubbed greasy pans, I thought of a young woman’s recent comment.

“If we’re called by God to do something, and we’re in His will, why is it such a struggle?”

I didn’t answer her then. It was a valid question and I wanted to search scripture for a Biblical response rather than lean on my own understanding. But after two hours of my life, spent cooking and cleaning dishes for naught, I reached one conclusion.

Who said life is easy?

I’m called to be is a wife and mom, and in our household that job description includes cooking all the meals. I don’t love to cook. And some days I’d rather retire my apron and make reservations. But I’m not going to quit or second guess my role because there are days of tribulation. I might just as well shave my head when I have a bad hair day.

Fact is, even when we’re in the center of God’s will, we have the human responsibility to walk out our lives. We take the good with the bad and “walk in faith, not by sight.”

Visit the heroes of faith in Hebrews 11 who were called by God. Familiar names like Abraham, Moses, Gideon, Samson, and David who struggled with hardships, temptations, and doubt, but they were commended for their faith. “Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. There were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword.” (Hebrews 11:36,37)

Did they question why life isn’t easy?

Deciphering God’s will, and staying afloat when stormy waters threaten to capsize me, is part of the human dilemma. Scripture tells me to persevere and press on instead of shouting “uncle.”

“Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame….so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted.” (Hebrews 12:2,3)

Today’s dinner fiasco was another notch in my apron strings of comical cuisines not meant for human consumption. But after 33 years of marriage, the good meals outweigh the bad. We haven’t starved. In fact, as I write this, I hear my son pouring cereal into a bowl.

Not My Nature to Rest

One minute, midnight to be exact, I’m at my desk in a writing frenzy. All’s well with the world and my soul. Must get ready for bed; have a big day planned for the morrow.

The next minute, my body raises a red flag. Discomfort escalates into physical pain.

Crawl into bed; hoping sleep will shield me, but the minute hand drags oblivious to my impatience and pleading prayers. At three a.m. I turn on the lamp, conceding my best laid plans are canceled, and listen to the night sounds. When the hooting owl gives way to the lark, I slumber at last, but not for long.

After noon, after the doctor and prescription, I collapse into bed. I don’t want to lie beneath hot sheets while the sky is a brilliant blue, and daytime noises summon me to action. But I have no choice. Sickness sabotages me. I must cease striving, and rest, and wait for the green light of good health.

Why is it difficult to rest, to hand over the keys of responsibility especially whenever a decision must be made and a course of action taken? Scripture is medicine to my soul and I’m convicted to “Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him.” (Psalm 37:7)

Define rest. And how long must I wait?

The thought makes me strain like a toddler confined to his car seat. Lord, tell me to build an ark, build a temple, or feed the poor; anything, but inaction.

His Word stares me in the face.

Whenever the flesh is beat….

Whenever the mind is muddled….

Whenever the soul is starved or enslaved…..

Jesus says, “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

Lord, it’s not my nature to rest. But He says come versus do.

Not do?? I’m wired to obey God’s law, follow man’s rules, meet people’s expectations.

Jesus says, “Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart; and you shall find rest for your souls.” (Matthew 11:29)

To take means I agree to submit.

Jesus invites me to come so He can give rest. He offers His yoke so that I can learn from Him and find rest for my soul. He invites, He gives. By coming to Christ in submission, I receive and discover “His yoke is easy and His load is light.”

And that’s how I rest and wait patiently even in this……

Nothing but the toilets

My to-do list, written by morning’s first light, lies pristine on a kitchen counter. Nothing checked off or accomplished.

What happened to the day?

I roll back the hours when morning prayers brought to mind the faces of those I love, and prompted a flurry of emails, texts, and phone calls. Praise God for technology that shrinks the miles and unites hearts with instant communication.

Not one to sit idle, the taskmaster rises within me even though I’m on the phone. I scrub toilet bowls and wipe sinks while I talk with someone a thousand miles away.

Clock strikes noon, bringing me back to “my list.” I’m off like a racehorse to the county jail. More prayers rise heavenward for the women inmates who wait for me behind cement walls, desperate for God’s Word. But chapel time surrenders to jail maintenance and prevents me from going inside. Do I check jail ministry off my list if it doesn’t happen?

Check my watch, calculating the minutes until the repair man shows up to my house, must get the heater fixed. Rush home to discover he’s running late; probably won’t happen today. Minutes slip through my fingers like liquid soap as the twilight hour appears.

Hungry stomachs must be fed so I puree pumpkin soup and listen for my husband’s car in the driveway. He earned a paycheck for his labor. What do I have to show for my day? Seems like nothing but the toilets got done. 

Chris Tomlin sings from my IPOD speakers, “Your grace is enough…I’m covered in your blood. So remember your people, Oh, God.”

I sprinkle cinnamon in the soup and ponder, is God’s grace enough? Or do I try to earn His favor and find my value in the doing? I gladly receive God’s grace when I mess up, and extend grace to others who fail. So why is it hard to give myself grace when I don’t meet my own expectations?

And relax, knowing that sometimes…..

Seeking God and remembering His people in prayer may be the only thing I can muster. But in God’s Book, my relationship with Him and others is everything.

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the great and foremost commandment. And a second is like it, you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 22:37-39)

A light rain descends and dances like reindeer hooves on my roof. I grate zucchini and crack eggs for homemade bread ~~ an offering to my husband for a job well done.

Set the oven timer and scan my list. Clean toilets aren’t on the list. Neither are the names of people I spoke with, or intercessory prayer, but I know God laid those people on my heart.

Garage door rumbles open, and my husband enters the kitchen bearing the weight of the world. He sniffs the air where the aroma of pumpkin soup mingles with oven-baked bread. Smiling, I walk into his arms. His shoulders relax, and the pleasure on his face assures me that “my only aim is to know Christ” and love others.

The rest is gravy.