Beloved Enemy

There is something deep inside the human heart that longs to be accepted/approved of by another.  I remember in high school drug-free programs would come to the school and speak of peer pressure.  Although I was in a public high school and definitely not part of the in-crowd, I never felt 'pressured.'  I was comfortable being me.  Sometimes very lonely, but not enough to make me be someone I wasn't.  Then I went to the University of Alabama, and discovered my first 'peer pressure.'  I found in myself a deep desire to be accepted/approved of by the professors in my area of study.  They were intelligent, fascinating people.  Some of those 'fools' who say in their heart that there is no  God- but they seemed so not 'foolish.'  Because I'm a nerd, they offered me a sweet graduate studies package.  I wouldn't have to teach undergrad classes or do research for some professor.  I was even going to be given a stipend - basically, they were going to pay me to study there.  And then the shoe fell.  "Oh, you're married?  Well, you'll have to put all that on the back burner.  If you join this graduate studies department, you're married to the program."  I discovered in that meeting how much these female professors disliked men, how liberal their agenda was, how strongly our worldviews were in opposition.  Of course, I knew most of it already, but I was still quite devastated. 

What to do?  What to do?  Nathan and  I prayed about it, and it wasn't to be.  I didn't know how to break the news to these people who were bending over backward for me.  I walked into Professor X's office, and the answer came.  God placed in my heart an image strong enough to convince me and them, too.  I said, "If you knew that to advance in your studies you had to leave here and go study at Liberty University or Bob Jones, would you?"  She was horrified!  "No!  I just couldn't!  I'd be like a square peg in a round hole."  I softly said, "That's what you're asking me to do."  The pressure lifted.  She kindly escorted me from the room, apologized for not understanding, and off I went.  I cried.  

Is it WRONG to want someone else to like us?  Approve of us?  Think we're worth spending time with?  James says if we are a friend to the world, we will be an enemy of God.  In fact the word for friend here is stronger, almost like 'lover.'  But I'll just stay in the friend department for the moment.  A friend is someone we care about.  We care what they think about us.  We want to spend time with them.  We have shared values.  We think alike about enough things to enjoy each other's company. 

Many a Christian has the attitude of "OK, now give me a list of what I need to do to get to heaven.  I don't want to be too weird, so I want to do everything I'm allowed to do, so I can still 'fit in' down here.  You don't want to be so heavenly-minded, you're no earthly good."  Wait.  Aren't we supposed to be FRIENDS OF GOD?  Isn't His opinion supposed to drive ours?  Isn't time with Him the best time of the day?  Aren't our values lined up next to His in Scripture?  Don't we think alike?  When we read His word, don't we say, "Yes, yes, and amen!"?  (Just typing this is so convicting to my own heart- that happens sometimes ;o)

The desire to be approved of by another is a good thing.  But anytime we look to someone other than God Himself for that approval, the desire will take us down.  I'm not saying, "Well, I don't give a flip what anyone thinks about me.  They can get over it."  There is a wise discretion that will guide us to be gentle lovers of God AND lovers of those around us.  Normally that sentence is blasted from the mouth of a person who has, shall we say, some maturation process in their future.  That being said, how much DO I care about what the world thinks of me?  What my extended family thinks of me?  My neighbors?  My friends from high school?   

So we're really different.  So we're supposed to be.  When I'm the only woman in the store who's not flashing skin, when Nathan is sitting in a hotel room studying Hebrews while his coworkers hit the bar, when those moments come that shout, "YOU ARE SO WEIRD!," that's when I must ask myself, "Who do I love?  Whose friend am I?"    The Bible never said, "Go be relevant, (meaning enough like the world so they will listen to you)."  It does say, "Love not the world." and "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your mind and all your soul and your neighbor as yourself." 

"Why do you always have to fight?"

Kathryn sat on my bed this week, all twisted into a dramatic pout.  Her face was the picture of disgust.  (She can overdo the drama sometimes, like her mother ;o)  Her grief?  She says that she and Alex don't enjoy playing together like they used to.  That they've been fussing and fighting all morning.  (This I am aware of, as this conversation was part of shall we say... a disciplinary moment).  So I asked her, "Why do you fight?"  She had the ubiquitous childhood answer:  "I dunno."  

Well, I do.  I've been reading James.  Actually James has caught and held my imagination for a little while, especially James 4.  James 4:1-3 tells exactly why we as humans fight one another.    

"What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions^[a] are at war within you?^{[b] 2} You desire and do not have, so you murder. You covet and cannot obtain, so you fight and quarrel. You do not have, because you do not ask. ³ You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions."   (ESV)

 Kathryn read this for me, and her eyes crossed.  So I said, "There are two guys who are both 'in love' with the same girl.  They start fighting about it.  What caused the fight?"  Kathryn says, "The girl."  EERP!  Try again.  "Because they want the same girl."  Right.  Their desires.  Their desires are in conflict.  The reason Kathryn and Alex used to play without fussing and fighting is because their desires weren't in conflict.  Kathryn had a goal, and by George, Alex fell in line.  But now, she wants to tea party and he wants to sword fight.  Kathryn was surprised to find the reason she is unhappy is because she wants only her own desires and wants Alex to never get what he wants.  The conversation went on, as at this point, a talk about loving one another is in order.  But my mind has been circling these verses ever since. 

We are all in a fight.  Always.  According to the next verse of James 4... 

⁴  You adulterous people!^[c] Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Therefore whoever wishes to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God....
  

There is an ongoing battle between God and the 'world.'  (Side note:  I grew up thinking that 'the world' was whatever my specific church thought was wrong.  In other words, being 'worldly' meant rebelling against the rules about external standards.  Actually, this is totally off base.  Worldliness is the whole set of values and beliefs that stands opposed to God's word.  It is possible to be very 'godly-looking' and have an extremely worldly heart and mind.)  

So why the battle between God and the world?  The same reason there is conflict between Kathryn and Alex.  They each have desires, and they stand in direct opposition to one another.  Their values and beliefs are polar opposites.  Let's not kid ourselves.  The world isn't really in as much flux and change as we like to think.  Its costumes change, its language changes, but its goal remains fixed:  to oppose God and His word.  It always has, and it always will.  In this fight, where do I stand?  Where do my children stand?  What does it mean to be a friend of God?  More later...

Thrift Store Cookery 
The largest thrift store in Alabama is ten minutes from my house. That means happiness. My kids LOVE to go to the thrift store. A year or so ago, I went in their room, which had piles of toys EVERYWHERE. I said, "WHAT is going on in here?" Their response: "We're playing thrift store." OK, my kids MAY be a bit deprived ;o)! It looked JUST like the toy aisle at the thrift store, minus the iffy stuffed animals. On principle, I never bring home anything with faux fur (or real fur). Who knows what kind of critters lurk beneath their cuddliness?! Ick. Although, according to Nathan, since I wear shoes from the thrift store, I really have no such hygiene boundaries. I rely on the posted statement that the shoes have been treated, and so far no foot fungus, so we're good! ;o)

One of the places I always stop is the cookbook aisle. Over the years, I've learned what I'm looking for. I'll always grab a Taste of Home (but they are NEVER in our thrift store). I brush by the gazillion old Weight Watchers cookbooks, the trendy Rachel Ray stuff, the many "Cooking with Rosie" books. I peruse happily the old community/church cookbooks. Although occasionally I find their editors to be desperate for material. One I have literally has this recipe: "Jack's Special" Get in your car and drive to Jack's. Go through the drive through. 1 bacon cheeseburger and 1 package fries. Best fast food in town. Not only is this debatable, but that is the classic sign of a desperate editor filling space. I mean, didn't ANYONE have a potato salad recipe laying around their house they could have loaned this poor woman?

 But occasionally I'll find a gem. One that will revolutionize how I cook for years and years. I'm not utterly devoid of creativity, but it doesn't thrive on scrapbooking and arranging flowers. I love to cook. Putting ingredients together and pulling out something truly mouth-wateringly special is such fun. If I need to relax, I head to the kitchen. So introducing my two favorite ethnic cookbooks:  

Mexican Family Cooking by Aida Gabilondo I've been looking for this book for years! A.G. grew up a rich child on a Northern Mexican cattle ranch. Her recipes range the gamut of the humble Mexican repasts to the fabulous beef recipes you would expect from a ranch. She has 20 pages of salsa varieties which I am working my way through right now to find our favorite. Sprinkled throughout this goldmine (written in English and not in metrics- which is also helpful) are fascinating snippets from her childhood. Here's the salsa I made yesterday. This is different from any I've tried. The absence of cilantro is interesting. The flavor is GREAT! Here you go:

Cooked Sauce/Salsa Guizada
1 lb. ripe tomatoes (I used 2 1/2 large tomatoes)
1 7 oz. can green chiles
1/2 c. chopped white onion
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. mashed garlic
1/2 tsp. crushed oregano leaves
 Parboil tomatoes in 1/2 c. boiling water to make peeling easier. (OK, boil yourself a 1/2 cup of water, throw in the whole tomatoes and roll them gently around in the water and steam for a minute or two. Run cold water over them, and the peeling is a breeze). Peel and chop tomatoes. Mix tomatoes, canned chiles (I drained mine), and chopped onion and cook, covered for 3 minutes. (I cooked mine for 3 minutes AFTER they started simmering) Season with salt, fresh garlic and oregano (crush the dried oregano between your fingers for great flavor). Now, I used a blender on this mixture, since we don't do 'chunks' in our family. This is mild and great hot or cold. I put a little cream cheese on a ritz cracker and topped it with the hot salsa to test it- yummmmmm!
 The recipe says it keeps indefinitely and freezes well. But don't worry, it's not a big batch, and it won't be around long ;o)
  The Key to Chinese Cooking by Irene Kuo This is my other favorite find. It's out of print, but if you ever see it, your Chinese food will be the talk of the... house. Nathan's family lived in Beijing for a school year when he was a teenager, and he has a thing for authentic Chinese food. No buffets for him, thank you. He's quite a Chinese foodie/snob ;o) This book teaches ALL the tricks! Velveting chicken (that's what keeps it tender even when it's been stirfried) has revolutionized my attempts with the wok. I'll put that recipe up later.... Happy thrift store cookery!

Well, SHE asked!

Kathryn was standing beside me in Wal-Mart last night, and she struck up a conversation with a fellow shopper. The lady said, "You are SOOO BEAUTIFUL; do you want to be a model when you grow up?" Kathryn looked at me quizzically. I don't think she knows what 'model' means other that 'you need to 'model' good behavior for your brother.' The lady gushed on: "I'm going to be looking for you on TV! You will be a model- you're so beautiful!" Context helped Kathryn out at this point, and she said matter-of-factly, "I've never even been in a beauty pageant." The woman turned on me in an accusatory tone, "Why not, Mom?! Why not, Mom?!" Well, she asked, didn't she?

 I smiled and said, "Because that's not the kind of values we're trying to place in our children. We're teaching them to be beautiful at heart and to please the Lord." Kathryn's nodding and interjects, "That means to have a good attitude." At this point, the poor woman (well, she DID ask, so I don't feel too bad ;o) became very religious and began saying stuff to Kathryn about "if you have Jesus, that's all you need" and then she quickly disappeared.

I also had a conversation with a friend yesterday with whom I was going to a Mary Kay facial demo. She asked me to please, please not tell the woman that I don't wear makeup. She had brought wet wipes for me in case they wanted to give me a makeover. God forbid I embarrass her by being DIFFERENT.

My kids are the only modest kids that take swim lessons at the YMCA, and mom's swimsuit is a skirted swimmer from WholesomeWear so I definitely will stand out. Yesterday a coworker asked me what I wear in the pool and was shocked to find out that I cover up. (Because I don't NEED to, in her opinion- as if because your body looks OK, you have a right to unclothe it?)

You know, I've been different a very, very long time. Not just different in how I look externally, but in the values I stand for and in the way I parent my children. In fact, I've found that it's not enough to be different from your average sinner, but when you live a careful life before the Lord, you'll be different from the vast majority of self-professing 'Christians,' too. Is that OK?

 Some people feel that in order to reach a sinful world, I need to be more relevant. I need to blend in a little more, so my differences don't shoo them away. The children of Israel were made VERY DIFFERENT from the surrounding people groups by the law of God in their lives. Their differences set them apart and were meant to be an evangelistic tool. I find that my differences do this even today, even in Birmingham. As a bit of a social butterfly, I talk to everybody (poor Nathan ;o). Questions come up all the time. (Actually, far less about my appearance and far more about my children's character- thank God they are a good testimony!) I want my children to grow up seeing Mom not shrinking around town, rushing home to 'be myself,' hemming and hawing through honest questions of people we meet. In trying not to offend, I can easily teach them that the differences are a bad thing. But they're not. And you know, a genuine smile, a relaxed chat, a few minutes later, and 95% of the time the person walks away saying, "That's really something to think about. I wish I had...."

 Vive la Difference!

Chasing Fireflies 
 Last night I sat on the cool, sweet grass and watched the kids chase fireflies. It reminded me of other yards and other trees under which I chased their 20th great-grandfathers. It felt a bit ritualistic, in that I can imagine children hundreds, thousands of years ago laughing, running, cupping their hands around these the most fascinating lights of summer. It brought back such sweet memories of summertime:

 1. homemade peach ice cream at Community Watch Meetings
 2. the low spot in the yard that was a great water slide after a rainstorm
3. the feel of the air conditioner vent under my feet as I washed/sorted the beans from our garden with my grandmother
4. trying to avoid the melted asphalt patches as we hopped barefoot down the road from shade to shade to cool our stupid feet
5. the bookmobile that parked in front of the Methodist Church
6. Pell City church camps and youth camps, where I truly felt at home with God
7. Washing dishes in the cafeteria summer after summer to pay for being 'at home,' crushes and giggles
8. The sycamore bark that popped off the tree when it thundered
9. Tornado warnings, watches, green skies, the great relief of sunshine
10. Reading and rereading the Little House on the Prairie

We didn't have I-phones, the internet or even a VCR (until I was 16). But we had the beauty of nature, the pleasure of books, the hours of hard work demanded by a garden and a work-your-tail-off grandfather ;o) We had cheese curls, nutter butter bars, tomato sandwiches, homemade sourdough bread. We had caring for an invalid uncle, his waterbed that was a favorite 'parking' spot, decoration day at the cemetery, fireworks over the Guntersville Lake, revivals, fresh-picked EVERYTHING, long walks.

We even had a trip around the world we went on often at night. My dad would pile us kids into the Volkswagon, allowing one the favorite job of shifting the gears and off we would go. Right and down the road over the old bridge, up the hill, and left onto the 'big road' (that means it was always paved nicely ;o), down past the Copeland's garden, over the 'new bridge', and left and up past Emmett Frost's house and Zach and Kristi's house and past the scary old man's house on the corner with the big dogs and the church and the cemetery and then left again past the auction with its cold Grapico and Sunkist machines out front, and over the hill and past the neighbors and home. A circle of imagination, where we looked at the stars and the moon and we went "'round the world." And our 'world' was small, but it was enough.

Summer is Here!

(The wicked blogspot has thrown some of the pics out of order- sorry!  The stained glass windows are backward and they go with the end of the post- sorry!) This is a little fun post to put up some pics of what we've been doing lately. Nathan's mom came down for Kathryn's birthday in April. I shelled out and got a bakery cake since Kathryn wanted flowers on it this year. I hate doing that, because my family loves the taste of my cake. After seeing the joke the bakery gave me, it won't be happening again. In fact the center of the cake had fallen in, so they just covered up their mistake with extra icing. OK, so I actually enjoyed the middle, because it was about 2 inches of icing and 1/2 inch of cake- ;o) We also went to Logan's, or as Kathryn requested "THE PEANUT PLACE!" I didn't realize that they picked up on it being her birthday, and decided to do the whole restaurant announcement thing. Poor Kathryn. I wish I had a picture of her face. If she could become invisible in that moment, she would have. She's at that 'everything is sooooo embarrassing' stage. When they jokingly asked her to SING, I honestly thought she might burst into tears or faint dead away. Her face was sooo white!

Then came Easter. We keep it pretty simple around here. (No offense to those of you who grew up with the whole Easter basket thing) I love it that they aren't worried about what THEY ARE GOING TO GET! for this most special holiday of the year. Honestly, the marketing is ridiculous. So they get some special candy at the breakfast table, and they color eggs. The rest of the day is all about church. We feasted with a whole bunch of church folks at Connie Snodgrass's house after morning worship service- yum! Love Easter!

Now that we've finished 1st grade, we're trying to do something special each Monday of the summer. This past Monday, we took a jaunt to the Ave Maria Grotto in Cullman. This is a unique walk-through exhibit constructed by a monk. You can read more here

Anyhoo, there is still a monastery on the grounds, a cemetery for deceased 'brothers' and a private school. The kids loved how big they felt next to most of the exhibits. And they got to go to both the Great Wall of China, Rome and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon in one fell swoop. So here you go:

. They also had a walking path to the cemetery lined with shrines showing the last moments of Christ's life. It began with the trial and ended with His body being placed in the tomb. I don't understand why the Catholic ends there so often. THAT'S NOT ALL, FOLKS!!!! So glad to serve a Risen Lord! We also visited the Catholic cathedral in town where the smell of incense was heavy and their values are placed in stained glass:

Adornment Lesson is Here!

Last night, Nathan presented a one hour lesson on adornment. The audio and written material may be found at his website www.disciplingnewconverts.org under 'Other Articles.' The topics of jewelry, makeup, the wedding ring, watches, etc. are all covered in this lesson.

Nathan spent upwards of 30 hours on this lesson in the evenings of the last few weeks! He had 10 versions of it written out from all different viewpoints that he put the Scripture against. I can't wait to hear what ya'll think about this latest lesson! I can guarantee you've never heard it this way before. Even if you disagree with some of his conclusions, the lesson is tailored toward the idea of a 'makeover,' and includes lots of ideas on what we should 'put on' everyday. So see what you think!!!

p.s. to my missionary friends: I am nearly done with the translation of Lesson 1. It should be up and running by the end of the week. If you could send me your e-mail addresses via private message on FB, I would love to put it up as a shared Google doc, so you can use your expertise to proofread my work if I'm not clear on something- thanks!!!

Got Standards? Get This!

To those of you reading along from FB, this may be completely foreign. However, to the vast majority of my four readers ;o), you know what I mean when I say 'standards.' It is the word used by the Conservative Holiness Movement to describe those unique actions and behaviors that separate us from the 'world.' Many of us grew up in churches in which holiness wasn't REALLY taught as living a careful life free of sin, but rather it was a 'way of life,' a spoken (or unspoken) list of things that made us different. The lists are varied. The Amish have them, the Mormons have them, the cults have them, and we had them. And now the larger Christian community (Baptist, etc) have them. Nancy Leigh DeMoss teaches a careful life and emphasizes modesty as a way of loving our brothers in Christ. It's typically taught a bit subjectively:
-Sit cross-legged in the dressing room. What would your grandmother say about those shorts.
-Wear what you want other women to wear in front of YOUR husband.
While these are fine guidelines, it is crucial that we have more than that in our heads.

Legalism! This is the hue and cry of the 90% of Christendom at the mention of the dos and don'ts associated with the CHM. And there is legalism here in the ranks, to be sure. Check yourself. How are you saved? (By grace through faith) HOW DO YOU STAY SAVED? (Hint: the answer is still by grace through faith). Legalism says that I stay in a right relationship with God by checking off this or that list. FYI: Salvation is absolutely NOT of works, and keeping any list of rules (short OR long) does not make God love you more, nor does it ensure a place in heaven.

Do you feel a bit shaky on this topic? Are you a CHMer who does just what mother and father did? Maybe your kids tossed all this over for a 'life of liberty' and think you're nuts? Maybe you're in a mainstream Christian denomination and look at me and think, "Why in the world does she DO all that?" Maybe you're just culturally curious like my pals at the university were and want to know why whole groups of people look so different from mainstream society? Maybe you just want to study the differences between a BIBLICAL COMMAND, a PERSONAL PREFERENCE, or a PRINCIPLE to be interpreted individually?

This is for YOU! We are currently attending a CHM church that has had limited teaching on this subject and has asked Nathan to develop and teach a series to the congregation. I live with this man and can tell you he is incredibly thorough with his prep work. The number of hours he pours into creating a lesson is unbelievable. Then he goes around vetting it- on his Baptist coworker, on his family, on me, on friends. And then he edits and edits some more. This is serious labor of love. (If he reads this, he's going to kill me ;o) But there you go. His series will be posted under Other Articles on www.disciplingnewconverts.org The audio is there, too. Last night's talk on General Principles of Modesty is already posted. And anyone can print off and use this material freely. If you have thoughts or criticisms or ideas for topics, feel free to let us know. (And for my missionary friends, do you want this article translated for your church people?)

Korah and Me

Numbers 16 scares me. If you had asked me a month ago what I remembered about the Rebellion of Korah, I would have pulled up something about the ground opening up and swallowing people. Which is pretty memorable. But other than that, Korah lived in the mental file folder of "whiners being destroyed by the Lord." And then I got to Numbers 16 in my reading plan.

Brief summary: Korah was a Levite. He and his followers/family were Levites. Set apart by God to do holy things. To do God's work. They had a God-ordained ministry. Not happy to serve the Lord in that capacity, they decided they had received the short end of the stick. Moses asks them why they desire the priesthood. Why they have despised the ministry God has given them. They persist, saying they're just as holy as Moses or Aaron, and they deserve this position. And they all die. Actually only some of them are swallowed by the earth. Korah's group, which came to prove themselves before Moses by offering holy incense as a group are blasted with fire from heaven. The censers are collected from the ashes and the bronze melted down to be used in tabernacle decoration, as a warning to others. (p.s. The reaction of the people was just stupid. Reread Numbers 16-17 for a mind-boggling peek into the crazy stunt THEY pulled the next day.)

I can't get away from this story. See, one of my personal spiritual goals for 2012 is to cultivate a spirit of joyfulness in my role as wife and mother. The idea that God is made angry when we are discontent with the ministry He has given us has HUGE implications in several areas. In the past, Korah has washed dishes with me. He has changed diapers with me. He has even put up bulletin boards with me. He had a seat next to me on the pew as an occasional church visitor. How casually I have looked down on the ministries of the Lord that I have been given. I have allowed the world and even the 'church world' to define for me what is a worthy task. And how does this story speak to the roles of women as defined BY SCRIPTURE? God looking down in love on His creation gave us a job to do that pleases Him. 'Submission,' 'service,' 'keepers of home,' 'helpers to our husbands,': these phrases are a sure-fire way for a preacher to kill a church service. I've seen Korah in Women's Church Groups, he's a welcome guest at far too many gals' day out.

If you're thinking right now, "she is so messed up," you're probably right. I have spent the last 13 years trying to recover from what public education told me I "deserved." I fit pretty well into that round hole in the past, but I find Scripture has gradually squared off my edges, and I don't fit so well in the culture anymore. Thank God He has a square hole for me- called truth. And Korah doesn't hang out with me as much anymore.

"What's Moo Thinking Now, Mama?"

I hear this question at least twice a day. It's the kids' invitation for an impromptu account of the thought life of our puppy/dog, Mitzi "Moo." They think she's hilarious. So to make sure that no one gets the idea that this blog has any point in real life, here you go:

A Day in The Life of Moo

6:00 a.m. I am finally let out of solitary confinement (the CRATE). My owners actually call it "IT" or spell it lest I hear the word and go into hiding under a bed somewhere. My morning calisthenics are first priority. This entails stretching full length while leaning up against my female owner. Then into the downward-dog yoga position, tail into the air. Then one good shake all over, and I'm thrown out the back door. This early morning constitutional in the chilly air may last 3 minutes or 3 hours. It all depends on if the ALMIGHTY SHE of the house remembers I'm out here or not. I'm far too sophisticated to whine. I prefer to stand on the porch's table and stare very pointedly in through the window at her. If the blinds are closed, I may knock over the begonia and dig in the dirt for revenge.

6:05 a.m. Hopefully. This is when she lets me in. If Dad is up, I try to eat the hair off his toes without getting smacked. He has great toes! I'm a bit obsessed, I admit. If the kids are in bed, and SHE has forgotten to close their doors, I will jump on their heads until SHE finds out. Plan B: find a slipper and chew. If SHE is having a particularly organized morning, she will throw me a rawhide when I first come in to keep me busy.

7:00 a.m. Schoolbus time. This is most frustrating. There are a gazillion kids out there looking for ME, of course. So I bark and whine and SHE gets mad if the other kids aren't up yet.

7:00-9:00 a.m. Bark at anyone else that happens to walk by. The CAT next door often leisurely struts back and forth in front of the window just to watch me bark. So annoying.

9:00 a.m. Special day. Normally I'm back in solitary for this stretch of homeschooling, but today SHE has gone out of her mind (in a good way) and has decided to take me and the other kids for a hike in Moss Rock Preserve, complete with picnic lunch. I hear the previous dog of the house liked to lie still in the car, presumably from nausea. I attempt to jump from front to back (most disapproved of), and am happiest balanced on two toenails looking out the crack in the window. This is most easily managed on straight roads, in which Alabama is sadly lacking. So I also do a lot of falling. But no worries- I'm quite the stuntgirl.

9:30 a.m. Hike time. This is the woods! Yay- lots of trees to wrap my leash around. I take full advantage of this opportunity. Then I get the idea that I'm to stick to the trails and take the family on a full trot. Why should we cross the bridge when we can splash through the streams? Lovely. Wait! A huge boxer (my SHE is afraid of big dogs) has deserted his owner and is bounding through the woods at us. I'll save her the trouble of dragging me over to meet him, as WE ARE GOING TO MEET. I'll just break this expensive retractable leash in half, no big deal. Oh, and a yellow Lab- lovely. Three's a crowd, so their SHE scoops me up and returns me with a half-hearted 'sorry.' Now my SHE has to short-cut out of the woods and walk back to the car with two hot kids, carrying me like a spoiled infant. Feet in the air and everything. Which I like actually. The wet muddy feet sticking up catch a cool breeze as the human kids trudge along behind.

10:15 a.m. Having successfully completed my first (and SHE says last hike), I collapse in the front seat. SHE sweats away, turning one a/c on the other kids and one on me. We stop for ice cream. She doesn't let me get one. Hmph!

11:15 a.m. Home! I'm thrown in the backyard, something about dirt. The kids have their baths and then shock! I'm thrown into their bathwater. This is the worst part of my day so far. They all stand around and cackle. I can't see them, because the schnauzer cut leaves my eyes covered with hair. They say mean things like, "drowned rat" and "chihuahua" and "hilarious." I spend 15 minutes scraping my head across the carpet getting all the water out.

12:15 p.m. Hear "Up!" This is a bearable command, as it means I sleep on Dad's side of the bed while SHE collapses. She just likes my company. (Editor's note: I just don't trust her to run around while I'm unconscious, for obvious reasons.)

The rest of the day follows suit. I chew and chew some more. CDs, socks, slippers, stuffed animals. I can't pass a small trash can without tipping it over to investigate. SHE does a pretty good job unfortunately of keeping the bathroom doors closed. Toilet water is such a rare and lovely treat. Sigh...

10:00 p.m. Wake up. Discover that SHE didn't shut the crate door well. Smile sadistically to myself. Climb into Sissy's bed which is so much more comfortable.

1:00 a.m. Need to pee. Fortunately, I don't have to wait 'til morning like most nights. Make a puddle on living room carpet. I really DO like my SHE, and I really DON'T like how she treats me when she finds my puddles. Thankfully, the bathroom door is open. I carefully pull out the whole roll of toilet paper and spread it around the floor near my puddle. Maybe she'll see I tried. Chew on a lost crayon. Chew on a toy car. Bite the plastic tiger's tail off. Go back to bed. It's been a long day.

(Editor: the last part of this day BETTER not happen again. It has recently! The first part of this day is today's story. I so wish this story had the appropriate pictures, maybe later. The babysitters who watch my kids say she's sweet, but just like a toddler- into everything!)

"A Lewis Kick"

If I don't blog some of these thoughts poor Nathan will go insane as he endures my "Lewis kick." As in C.S. Lewis. Nathan says, "He's OK." OK?! That's like saying "Tolkien's passable" or "Shakespeare's not bad." Sigh.

OK, so this Christmas vacation, I decided I would enhance my brain cells with some classic literature. I had picked up Perelandra at a thrift store, where it had lived dust-ridden on a back bookshelf for much too long. So I started there, went backwards to Out of the Silent Planet and then forwards to That Hideous Strength. Thus, I finished the Space Trilogy. Thus, I fell in love again with that Christian intellectual (note: I did not say theologian, because he says: "You ask me why I've never written anything about the Holy Communion. For the very simple reason that I am not good enough at Theology. I have nothing to offer." He then goes on to "prattle unseasonably" about that very topic- haha!

Lewis' crazy side drives Nathan nuts. And he has a crazy side. Until you've read his discussion on which animals have souls or his views on hell, you haven't seen the whole picture. That being said, he was a genius of a thinker, and just reading his writing gives me great thoughts. I can just feel my brain growing and tiny bits of the aforementioned (last blogpost) mommy fuzz flaking off. I read the Space Trilogy, then a book of compiled Lewis quotes (The Quotable Lewis by Martindale- lovely!), and since my favorite quotes came from God in the Dock, I'm now reading GITD.

Here's one of my favorite quotes:
"The way for a person to develop a style is (a) to know exactly what he wants to say, and (b) to be sure he is saying exactly that. The reader, we must remember, does not start by knowing what we mean. If our words are ambiguous, our meaning will escape him. I sometimes think that writing is like driving sheep down a road. If there is any gate open to the left or the right the readers will most certainly go into it. . . ."
Although he was referring to writing, I think communication in general can be full of open gates. It's a dangerous world out there ;o)

A quick review of the Space Trilogy:
1. Out of the Silent Planet - main character Ransom captured and taken to Mars (Malacandra), escapes, lives with lovely Malacandrians, saves them from the evil guy from captured him, comes home. I would say mostly science fiction. Not as heavily allegorical as some of his others. The "silent planet" is Earth, and Ransom has come "Out of the Silent Planet."
2. Perelandra - The Eldils' (super-angels?) word for the planet Venus. Ransom is sent there to affect the beginning of Venus. Evil doctor gets there under his own steam. First part of book describes floating islands until the point where I promise you your sofa will begin swaying. Pages and pages (did we mention 'prattling unseasonably?'). Then begins a long allegory of Adam and Eve's choice in the garden. The evil doctor becomes demonically possessed, and spends the rest of the book chasing Ransom all over the world trying to kill him. He eventually falls into a lava pit, and Ransom is saved. Back to Earth he goes.
3. That Hideous Strength - Longer and stranger yet. I only finished this one because I was feeling stubborn ;o) Weird, weird, weird. Full of social critique of Lewis' times. The book starts off sounding like nonfiction, and gradually turns into a rather macabre nightmare. Merlin is resurrected (as in the magician Merlin) to save the day. And by the way, he was the last of the Numenoreans (think Tolkien's Aragorn)- so I assume he and Tolkien were collaborating a bit at this point. Also full of the allegories that Lewis LOVES. This book is not for the faint of heart!

Voila! Just in case you were looking for a review of the Space Trilogy today... ;o)

JOY
"We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry."
E. B. White

On New Year's, I wrote down "finding the joy in what I do" under the spiritual goals column. I have a very specific reason for that goal: Kathryn. I want to model for my little girl a woman happy to be doing the will of God, even when it involves dishes, mopping the floor, doing the laundry. I certainly don't expect her to remember a cheerful Mary Poppins (more on that in a later post perhaps ;o) floating around the house with a song on my lips as I slide up and down bannisters. However, I also don't want her perception of homemaker to include the culture's idea of drudgery, a lazy mind or mournful sighing.

Something jumped out of Scripture a few months ago and stuck to the rather fuzzy corners of my brain. (Contrary to modern science, I believe motherhood causes a specific kind of brain fuzz which looks suspiciously like lint from the millions of loads of laundry.) Wandering... OK, we are to pray for His will to be done on earth as it is in heaven. The general thought is that His purposes will be accomplished on earth. But what stuck with me is that little word "AS"- how IS His will done in heaven? Anticipation, joy, praise. These words describe the angels' attitudes as they wait upon the King. And in serving my family, I am, too, waiting on the King. My variation on the Lord's Prayer for this year has become: "May I do Your will on earth just as joyfully as it is done in heaven!"

Lowering certain expectations (shock! my child will survive if I don't do X), raising those that matter in eternal significance (a zero tolerance for sin in my heart and in the hearts of those under my charge), taking specific steps in a joyful direction (associating the sound of little feet with the muscles of my face that make a SMILE)- these are just a few things I've been doing lately.

Along with reading C.S. Lewis and listening to E.B. White, and P.L. Travers. Along with backing up the Audio CD when my kids lose the plot to the giggles. Along with baking cookies for bedtime snacks with milk. Picking grapes and sorting laundry, I suppose.

POST #6 Good intentions and the Beginning, Again

So I made some well-intentioned comment about ahem... (whispered) "14 posts on love" a while back, and while I believe one should "swear to their own hurt, and change not," this obviously doesn't apply to one's blog, does it? Anyhoo, I have been knee-deep in homeschool research for next school year. Truly.

February 19, 2000, Nathan drove me to the beautiful nearby Guntersville Lake, and he popped the question. And he kissed me for the first time. There are two audiences reading this: one, saying "What?! You kissed before the wedding?!" (to you, I'm sorry I've let you down) and the other, saying "What?! You didn't kiss until you got engaged?!" (to you, I'm not sorry I've let you down- haha!) In the interest of full disclosure, neither of us had ever kissed anyone before and neither of us were impressed with that first experience. Let's just say, there were no sparks or heel-lifts. Maybe we were just too cold to feel anything. It was February, after all. At a LAKE. He gave me a beautiful engagement watch with a personal inscription on the back. It was a bit large for my bony arm, but my uncle was a watchmaker, and he had it display-worthy in no time :o)

Back I went to college. I had some incredibly ridiculous notion that I MUST have a Spring wedding. And that Spring was obviously out, since I was in the middle of a school semester. So we waited 14 MONTHS to tie the knot! Not my recommendation for anyone, by the way. Did I mention 'incredibly ridiculous?' All for the colors I wanted in my pictures?! Sigh.

After that semester, I began working at my old job at a Spanish translator to pull together some funds. I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and my goal was not to walk down the aisle with one either. So we went as frugal as we could, and I paid for a lot of it myself. And then there was the blessing of the produce manager who happened to love the church I was to be married in, who gave me the finest of fruits and veggies of the season. A whole buggy full for $25.00!!!

We spent weekends together as much as we could, spending many hours walking and walking and talking and talking! And putting together puzzles. And playing Rook by the hours with the Greg Makcen family. Those were sweet days.

April 7, 2001, we were married on a beautiful SPRING day! I found out that day from my grandmother that it was also her and my deceased grandfather (Ponder Frederick)'s anniversary. That held a special significance for me as I never had to privilege to know him. My other grandfather passed away the Monday before my wedding. Dad Brown momentarily stepped on the train of my dress, the flower girl and Bible bearer (who wore WHITE socks with his black suit- agh!) fussed all the way down the aisle, my cake leaned, the candles leaned, my sister Chelsea vomited from stress (she's going to kill me- good thing she never reads my blog ;o), and the day was still perfect.

And just before they all waved goodbye, my 80-something year old aunt popped her head between ours and began giving me the 'birds and bees' talk. Yep, just perfect! ;o)

Almost 11 years later, I'm still learning and growing in this amazing thing called love. The commitment is unconditional for us, and the joy of learning about each other is still happening. And just in case, you were wondering (which you weren't, of course), the kisses have definitely improved ;o)! And that was the beginning!

POST #5

The Decision

My first semester at college was busy. A mercy I must say, since I had a lot on my mind. When Nathan's birthday came around in October, I knew it was time. We had never told each other that 3 word phrase, the "I love you!" We had decided not to say it unless we were absolutely sure, and we were planning to marry. So I threw that bombshell into my one letter of communication for the semester. Then that reciprocal phrase ended up in my little mailbox, and the roses came and the phone call of one very relieved young man. That Christmas was the best I'd ever had. What a joy to have finally found the one, to never have to look again. To never worry about the decision of marriage again. And he held my hand. And it was oh, so sweet.

He flew me home from Hobe Sound in February for my birthday, and his secret engagement plans (more on that later). As Heather Dickinson mentioned in her love story post, this was all pre-9/11. There was always something so poignant about those last few minutes at the gate, at the window. And something so thrilling about watching your love's plane land safely and looking for them to come up the ramp. Such sweet memories that hanging out at baggage claim don't seem to be able to create...

POST #4

And then it all fell apart, and then it all came together

Nathan and I dated for a couple of years. We spent hours on the phone and less hours together in person. He was a busy engineering student at UA, so a lot of our relationship was long-distance.

(By the way, long-distance relationships get a bad rap, so let me just say: They have more pros than cons in my book. So much time communicating, learning to communicate, ironing out the relationship without the distraction of sexual temptation. What is accepted as 'the way it's done' in the area of physical affection in dating relationships is not healthy... That's a whole can of worms I'd better not touch right now ;o)

The summer of '98, I went on a TLC trip to Bolivia. That meant one week in Boot Camp in the South Floridian wilds (with snakes and armadillos), followed by 3 weeks traveling through and ministering in La Paz. God had been poking at my heart for some time- you know, that little stick He uses to stir up restlessness and concern. Ugh. Tim Keep preached a message during Boot Camp regarding putting God first, total surrender of our desires and plans. That was the service that God asked me if I would be willing to give up Nathan for Him. I remember my response clearly, "I'll give you everything, anything you want, but please, please, please, don't touch the guy." After 3 weeks away with virtually no contact with Nathan and lots of contact with the Father, His request couldn't have been any clearer. This was a test of my character. So I did the right thing. And it was horrible. No guy wants to hear, "God asked me to break up with you." Never comes out right. I never thought I'd see him again, nor did I have the Father's permission to even dream of that possibility. I began making plans for attending Bible College, preferably not the one his parents worked at (at 18, that seemed HUGE and very awkward), and for working with Spanish translation ministries. I even had an application in at a college in Texas where I was planning to transfer after my time at Hobe Sound. Nathan was far, far away.

My senior year of high school was ghastly. I had peace in my heart regarding my decision, but a huge, great hole for Nathan that only seemed to get larger and larger. I was beginning to suspect that God was placing a love for him in my heart, which I thought was horribly unfair, since I was never going to see him again. (Turns out that Nathan was having a very similar experience around the same time, although I had no clue.)

At his mother's request (who did have a clue), he attended my high school graduation, and then at my mother's request (who had a pretty big clue about my heart), our family's 4th of July get-together. We walked and talked all around a huge ballfield of people with lawn chairs, blaring country music and fireworks. We both felt that God might be re-opening the door for a relationship that put Him at the top, but we weren't sure. We decided to spend the fall semester (my first college semester) praying about it, with just one contact allowed for Nathan's birthday in October (my request). I do remember one rather awkward moment, when he asked me specifically if I thought we should get back together. He had walked me to my car in the rain, and was holding the umbrella over the open driver's window as we talked. I blurted out, "If I date you again, I'm going to marry you!" I was mortified, rolled the window up as fast as I could, and sped away. Awkward:o)

Post #3

More of Our Love Story in Bits and Pieces

The summer I was 15, my mom and dad received a phone call from Nathan's parents. They were seeking special permission since I was so young, for Nathan to begin calling me on the phone. (Imagine that courtesy in 1996?!) So began the phone calls. Nathan called once and then didn't call back for 3 weeks. I was beside myself. My dad had a strict no-calling-guys policy, which interestingly enough, my sister has never had enforced. Hmmm... That first child to date thing, I suppose. My dad also has a personal thing with "if you lower your expectations, you're less likely to get hurt." So for 3 weeks, I heard, "Well, I don't want you to be hurt, so you should get used to the idea that he's never going to call again!" And then he called. And called again. He occasionally came up, and we would go out. Long walks, long drives, restaurants. Our relationship was very shall-we-say... platonic. No touch. Just talk. I guess in many ways, it mimicked the courtship-type dating that some endorse. I like it, because it kept our emotions and hormones at bay while we learned about each other.
One memorable date was simply a walk to the local creek. There was nothing special about this creek, it was just the closest. My parents didn't require us to have a chaperone, but we did. A little mangy mutt came along from the neighborhood to be our guard-dog. OK, this section of country road had no houses, just trees. It trotted along ahead of us, stopping every few minutes to get all paranoid about the trees, raise its hackles and be weird. It was hilarious! It followed us all the way home, and sat behind us on the porch steps while we talked. At some point, I asked Nathan, "What do you think?" And at that precise moment, the dog hacked up a hairball. Had to have been there, I guess ;o)

Post 2: Our Love Story in Bits and Pieces

Fully sixty percent of my life has been shared with Nathan. I met Nathan officially when I was twelve years old. (Although my parents did visit his parents' church in Hobe Sound some when I was four, so I'm sure he was around). Nathan was my youth camp counselor. He was a very mature 18 years old, and he gained my attention for well, a week or two. Let me be clear and say, he wasn't attempting to gain my attention in any way. He remembers think, "It's too bad the nice ones are always too young."

Nathan always had a ton of girl-friends around during those days. I have multiple pics from his college days that are just him and a gaggle of females. He went back to his world of school and social life, and I returned to junior high. When I was 14, he popped in at our church to preach for our pastor who was out of town. My mother quickly snagged him for dinner; I think she finagled that with the older couple who were scheduled to have him over. Fathers are lovely, aren't they? My dad knew about my previous crush, and made a big point (at least it was huge and obvious to ME- everything's drama when you're 14) of finding that out in front of me. Sigh. Devastation.

At some point in here, I saw him again at Pell City Camp. We talked until curfew one night in the cafeteria. I distinctly remember Larry Mabus hovering about and wishing he would go away ;o) If you read this, Larry- you know we love you ;o) haha Nathan kept saying something like, "I need to ask you something." Funny- he never got around to that. Curfew hit, and I was left to wonder about that for a long, long time. When I did see him again, he was dating? and said, "Well, what I was going to ask you, I can't now." 21 year old young men are so communicative ;o)....

The best part of the dead of winter is fully a month away, and I propose to celebrate it a little at a time. I would like to suggest that time spent thinking on the amazing human experience called love can point us to the One who loved us first.

(This meditation excludes, of course, the hooking-up culture which touts its knowledge of 'love' as the most well-rounded and thorough. "50 Sex Moves Your Boyfriend Would Kill For" Please. Whatever. As if some 19 year old kid engaging in half-drunk sex with multiple partners even comes close to the joy of a lifelong monogamy. Pet peeve.) The next 14 posts will contain a variety of thoughts on love and romance.

Post #1 C.S. Lewis in God in the Dock
"Domesticity is no passport to heaven on earth but an arduous vocation - a sea full of hidden rocks and perilous ice shores only to be navigated by one who uses a celestial chart."

Barbara Bush "I married the first man I ever kissed. When I tell this to my children, they just about throw up."

(A repost from Nov. 2007 that I wrote to honor the veterans I knew as a kid...)
Disappearing Heroes: A Tribute to the Veterans I Once Knew

Once upon a time, there were great story-tellers in my family. That's how I thought of them, anyhow. Truth was, they were veterans- the closest thing to a world traveler one ever met in the boondocks of Nixon Chapel, Alabama. This is a little story about their little stories.

My mother's dad, Dwight L. Moman. (The L. stood for nothing- a perfectly acceptable convention in the 20's South- like my Uncle Billy D. and J.D., etc.) Papa was a hard-to-please person, but he grew a little soft around the edges if he could interest you in a story. He spent WWII as a cook in the Pacific arena, feeding the hungry men fortunate enough to return for the next meal. The impression I got is that he didn't see a lot of first-hand action. Too bad, since he created some of his own from time to time. Like the time he fixed the latrine with chemicals that blew up under the behind of an unsuspecting and ornery superior officer. That was the closest he came to being sent to the front line, or so we hear.

My mother's uncle, Tommy L. Mitchell (his L stood for Lee). I was blessed to grow up around many great-aunts and uncles, and we were super close to Uncle Tommy. Oh, but his stories were amazing. A slight, mild-mannered man who in his post-war days became a professional watchmaker, he defined the word "genteel." So hard to believe he fought in the Battle of the Bulge, spent frigid weeks bundled in foxholes with suicidal comrades, and took Germany a house at a time. He told of an invisible hand that pulled him back onto a transport when he fell off in enemy territory. Of crawling under machine gun fire across snowy fields, of the grenade that finally took him out of the service. He would practically whisper these tales over a watch he was fixing. We tried to record the stories, but he didn't talk loud enough to get it all on tape.

Then there was Mr. Johnny, the one-legged man who kept the community cemetery mowed and weedeeded (I KNOW that can't be correct, but that's how it sounds) for donations left in a little metal box. And how my mom, looking under her bed to check for boogie-men as a child, saw his leg dressed and ready to go and nearly had a heart-attack. My grandmother had 'borrowed'? his leg for some weird reason- like show and tell for her kindergartner class or something. Sick.

And the family member, who shall remain unnamed, who survived years in a Japanese POW camp. He tells no stories, which is perhaps the most interesting story of all.

This Veteran's Day, I want to say thank you to all the veterans and active members of the service. Your sacrifice is... well, beyond words. I exercise the freedom of speech you've protected to say THANK YOU. All the people I've mentioned above are now gone, except for the POW survivor. If you have a WWII veteran left alive in your family, make sure to sit and hear their story one more time. I wish I could.

POEM #31 Martin Luther (1483-1546)
(picture of THE CHURCH from wikipedia.com)

Halloween to most, today is REFORMATION DAY to some! The 494th anniversary of the nailing of Luther's 95 theses to the All Saints church door in Wittenberg is TODAY! Thanks be to God for all the brave men who stood up then and stand up now for the truth of Scripture.

And (drumroll, please....) now for my soapbox. (Ouch, these heels weren't made for small wooden boxes- ok) For those of you who may be joining my blog readers from FB, let me point out that I'm aware the recent portrayal of Luther has been more negative than positive. He is termed a racist, etc. Having not thoroughly studied those claims, I make no attempt to discuss them here. There comes a point in life when all media (books, internet, movies) ALL media must be filtered for truth. I am celebrating Luther as his actions demonstrated the truth of Scripture, not affirming every aspect of his character.

Stepping down... Make sure to read or sing "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" today in honor of Reformation Day. Perfect for re-centering our thoughts on the truth that God is in control, the Devil is defeated and we can make it! Here's a lovely Easter poem from the Reformation's founder "hisself", Luther.

*"trow" (def): think, believe; *Paschal (refers to Easter); pascua is Easter in Spanish, so I assuming it's a Latin-based word

In the Bonds of Death He Lay

In the bonds of death He lay,
Who for our offense was slain,
But the Lord is risen today,
Christ hath brought us life again;
Wherefore let us all rejoice,
Singing loud with cheerful voice.

Jesus Christ, God's only Son,
Came at last our foe to smite,
All our sins away hath done,
Done away death's power and right;
Only the form of death is left,
Of his sting he is bereft.

'Twas a wondrous war I trow,
Life and death together fought,
But life hath triumphed o'er his foe,
Death is mocked, and set at naught;
Yea, 'tis as the Scripture saith,
Christ through death hath conquered death.

Now our Paschal Lamb is He,
And by Him alone we live,
Who to death upon the tree
For our sake Himself did give.
Faith His blood strikes on our door,
Death dares never harm us more.

On this day, most blest of days,
Let us keep high festival,
For our God hath showed His grace,
And His sun hath risen on all,
And our hearts rejoice to see
Sin and night before Him flee.

To the supper of the Lord
Gladly will we come today;
The word of peace is now restored,
The old leaven is put away;
Christ will be our food alone,
Faith no life but His will own.