To Mom & Dad

on the Fortieth Anniversary of your entry in to parenthood...

(St. Margaret Hospital, September 1968)

I imagine you there at the nursery window, Mom in a wheelchair, Dad standing behind her. You hold hands tight and stare through the glass at the all-too-tiny baby. She sleeps, safely cocooned within the protective walls of the incubator. Her wispy fingers curl in fists and her delicate chest heaves up and down. Her skin is pale, almost translucent, adding to the fragile aura about her, this October baby come in September.

A nurse sees you at the window and goes over to the glass incubator. She carefully reaches in and lifts the little baby girl for you to see. Almost immediately her tiny mouth opens in a cry and you start in surprise again. She's here. Already. Too soon. You think over the past hours, the past days. Mom-to-be, admitted to the hospital for toxemia, dad-to-be continuing to work. And then THAT day, the day the baby arrives. The messages to Dad that his baby is coming don't get passed along. Mom goes through labor, wondering if he is there waiting, and wondering how her baby will be.

At that nursery window your minds race with prayers for this little preemie. Prayers of gratitude for her wholeness, her health... and prayers that she'll stay safe and well. Prayers that soon she will come home with you where you can hold her and kiss her. But for now...

It isn't at all how you expected. That is your baby. You should be cuddling her, cradling her in your arms. That you can't makes her seem that much more fragile and far away. You wonder about her, this tiny little thing. Will she grow and flourish like all the round, pink-cheeked babies in the maternity ward? Will she play dolls and skip rope? Will she...

After a while you leave. You'll return later, many, many times - sometimes being allowed into the nursery, reaching in the incubator and touching her bitty fingers. But not holding her. Not yet.

You see, for that first month in that nursery, in that incubator, Someone Else is holding her. Some One unseen. He holds her with gentle hands and whispers over her of His plans for her. And years down the road when those hands reach out again, she'll know them... recognize them. She'll grab them and hang on.

This once tiny one, now all grown up, too big for cuddles and lap sitting, still rests in Those Hands. She's glad for a Mom & Dad who took such good care of her in her youth. And she's glad for the hands of a Heavenly Father who held her in an incubator forty years ago and didn't let her go.

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

No Doubt

She Speaks was a great conference. As a writer, speaker and blogger I would have loved to have sat it on almost every workshop they had. As it was, though, I ended up on overload with all the information I gained in the ones I did get to. Translating it all to my life will make a world of difference.

I mentioned in my previous post that it was more than just a conference. It had all the makings of a great retreat: awesome worship sessions, Bible-centered keynote talks, tranquil prayer room and good bonding time in small groups. With the high caliber of speakers they had, I found myself reaching for a Kleenex not only in the main sessions, but also just about every workshop (okay, so in the "What Not to Wear" workshop it might have been tears of lament over having to give up my terrific oversized handbag that's not proportional to my medium-sized body). I've been summing it up for folks as a "10-hankie weekend".

On Saturday evening, Renee Swope spoke on "Beyond the Shadow of Doubt". At the end of her talk she invited everyone to write down on a postcard the doubts they were having. And then we were invited to come forward and lay those doubts at the foot of the cross and take a verse card that was there -- verse cards that had been prayed over, seeking that each one would answer the doubts and needs of the receiver.

It was amazing to see the universality of doubt. Every woman there seemed to experience it to one degree or another. Many were crying as they came forward.

It was also amazing to see how the verse cards truly did meet the needs of each one's heart. One postcard placed at the cross went something like this: "I'm feeling like I'm only second-rate and not worthy of doing anything significant". The verse that person received? "You are precious and honored in my sight, and I love you. Isaiah 43:4."

There is no doubt that God is using Proverbs 31 Ministries and the She Speaks conference to equip women ask writers, speakers, women's ministry leaders, and yes, bloggers. It is unlike any other writers' conference I have been to.

Please Pray for Leslie

A young mom at our church has been having an incredibly tough year. She was diagnosed with cancer last Fall. And every time it seems like she's going to do well, something new has come up to complicate things further. Yesterday there was more bad news.

I've been praying and praying, in every quiet moment of my day. But it has always felt like such a pitiful thing in face of the giant challenges facing her. Today it seems even more so. So I'm asking, will you please, please pray for Leslie. Here is her story, starting almost near the beginning.

Please pray.

Half Way

Little Miss History turns nine today. Maybe that number doesn't seem so momentous. It's not a decade, like ten. Or new teen, like thirteen. But to me it marks a big point in my journey as her parent. We have hit the half way mark. In nine more years she'll be preparing to graduate from high school and head off on her own, hopefully to college, definitely into adulthood.

So I've been cataloging and calculating:almost 10,000 meals fed to this child and close to that many nightly tuck-ins. I've bathed and dressed and diapered her countless times. She's learned to sleep through the night, eat big people food, walk, talk, skip, do the monkey bars, jump rope. She knows her ABC's and 123's and the length of her small intestines. She can read (and does so voraciously) and write. She makes her bed and her lunch and her sisters mad. She's learned the importance of kindness, respect, honesty, forgiveness.

And there's where I see the bend in the road. She has learned the practical things of life, how to count by two's and tie her shoes. Now more and more will the lessons of these second set of nine be those of the heart, shaping her morals and values. We've given her many of those foundations, but she'll begin now deciding whether to use them. And even though I'll still be here to teach and correct, it will depend even more on what I model, however imperfectly I do that.

It inspires prayer, age nine. It was hard work, physically, to get her this far. To finish well will require hard work emotionally. Am I ready?

A Long, Hard Day

Today it has been tough going. I woke up in pain from my right shoulder (the one I injured two years ago). This happens to me from time to time. It starts as a stinging ache and builds to a burning background roar. From past experience I know it will continue all day. Maybe it will travel to my other shoulder. Probably it will go into my wrists. I can still move, still talk, still do everything like normal, but slower and more haltingly.

On days like today I start off with an Advil. But like today, it usually doesn't help. So I take another a little bit later. And often still other until the pain is dulled to a whisper. I don't go to the doctor. What will she say? "Take an Advil", probably. There's nothing actually wrong with me. The pain will be gone tomorrow or maybe the next day. But for today it's here, distracting me. Occasionally I will forget about it and then wonder why I am on the verge of tears. All day I am on the verge of tears.

It's so tiring too. And it's hard not to get snippy or short with my children. I haven't today and I'm glad for that. Of course they'll be home soon. And there's a chance I'll get that way then, although I always hope not, always try not.

The pain makes me think of other people I know. People with real illness, real disease, real pain. A friend with rheumatoid arthritis comes to mind and I pray for her, glad that she has medicine that helps her condition. My fingers go cold and then numb from pain shooting down my arm and I think of someone from church battling a crippling, life-threatening disease. I pray for him, for healing, for mobility.

It's a hard day, a tiring day. I'll be glad for tomorrow. I'll be glad for the chance to wake up pain free. But I'm also glad for the chance to learn a little more compassion, to see a glimmer of what others go through day after day, to pray a heartfelt prayer for healing and comfort on someone else's behalf. It's a hard day, but not a wasted day. And when the next day of pain comes for me I hope that it will be profitable too.

"Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." Romans 5:3-5

Retreat

I'm going away on a brief retreat this weekend. It comes at a good time. I'm ready for a little time away from the busyness of everyday. There's a lot to ponder, to process, to pray about - both good and hard. This week I've learned of two people that are facing the diagnosis of cancer. My heart feels grief for what they are going through and the challenges that lie ahead. But at the same time, I know that both of these ladies will draw strength from God in the days ahead. So while the walk is each of theirs alone to make, they won't make it alone. They'll travel it in the company of the One who made them and who knows every bit of what they face and what they need.

My family is in the process of memorizing all of Psalm 103. And I am so glad for the words there. Charity and Leslie, I pray the words of this Psalm for you - that you'll be able to praise the Lord with all your inmost being in the trials you face, that you won't forget the benefits of knowing Him, the One who knows how you are formed. I pray that a new depth of knowing that the Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in love comes to you as you walk this hard journey.

Then there is also the good: in Sunday school this week they gave a presentation of the Gospel to the children. This time Timid Daughter was ready to take a stand - she prayed with her teacher that Jesus would become her forever friend:the Savior who died for her sins and the Lord whom she'll follow and obey. What grace!

Some Musings on Faith

I've been relatively silent on matters of faith recently. Not for lack of faith, but rather for lack of words and a fear of speaking negatively in the midst of trials. After all, who likes to listen to whining?

Faith. A big word. Sometimes too big to be accurate. But sometimes the only word.

"For in the gospel a righteousness from God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last..." Romans 1:17

By faith from first... - when the scales drop away from our eyes and we see our own sin for the nastiness that it is. When we see God for who He is. When we throw ourselves on Jesus work on the cross in taking the punishment our sin deserves. Then that righteousness comes from Jesus to us, so that our sin is gone and God sees the righteousness of Jesus when He looks at us.

...to last - by faith (dependence and trust in God) I am able to do right things, to live a righteous life. And so my faith continues to work out in me what God already sees to be true. Day by day. In the good times and in the tough times. Up to the last.

The way I understand it, I am not righteous in God's sight because I do the right. I do what is right because I am already considered righteous by virtue of my faith. Oh it is a slippery concept, but at times I catch a corner of it and get a tiny grasp before it slips away again.

Faith? What I know about it for sure is that it's a decision. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. I decide that what I read in the Bible about God is true. I determine to believe that God is good and faithful, even when I've fasted and prayed and yet the book I'd worked so hard to have done for a conference isn't completed by the publisher in time. By faith I watch for the different answer, for what will happen when it does come. And by faith I wait. It's a long hard road, but the journey is an adventure. And the company is great!

Holy Week Meditation: Well, Duh!

I'm reading through the account of the final days before Jesus' death and resurrection in the gospel of Mark. Each day I'm trying to follow what Jesus did and said on that particular day of the week. Yesterday I was shocked at Jesus' cursing of the fig tree. It was supposed to be bearing fruit, but it was bare - a foreshadowing of what he would find in the temple in Jerusalem. His indictment of the goings-on there was just as strong.

The next day (Tuesday) finds Jesus and his disciples passing by that same tree. In one day it has died and withered from it's roots. The disciples are surprised at this. I don't scoff at their "well, duh!" moment. When Jesus explains that even greater things can be accomplished by them through prayer it reminds me of all my surprised reactions to answered prayer. "Well, duh!", I often have to remind myself. "You did pray for that. What did you expect?".

Then I go on in the story and find the tension beginning to build. All of those who are threatened by Jesus come to him in turn trying to catch him with crafty questions. They're looking for a basis to legally get rid of him. He's God. He doesn't fall for any of it. Nor does he shy away from them and their mistaken beliefs. His time has come. He takes them on in ways they don't expect. Did any of them see who He really is? The text doesn't say, but we certainly get the impression that even if they did, they're not about to bow the knee.

The juxtaposition is stark. Jesus continues to teach and encourage his disciples. He pours into them what they'll need in the days and weeks to come. But for his accusers there are no more answers, only questions, only exposing their faked arguments. Jesus never minced words for the "white-washed sepulchers" around him, yet there is an in-your-face feel to what is happening here. His face is set on the cross. He has wept for Jerusalem. His time has come and he is not about to shy away. What a blessed Savior!

As we prepare for Easter consider your own faith. Do you wonder at the power of prayer, even though it's been promised to you? Do you feel the weakness of your faith exposed in those "well, duh!" moments? Are you ready to be encouraged? Or are you simply challenging Jesus and His authority in your life? Do you throw out red herring arguments about issues that aren't really even a part of your life hoping He'll go away? Do you have ears to hear the real answer? It's Holy Week. Good Friday approaches. What do you make of all this?

29 Sheets of Cardstock

The other day I was at Michael's (the craft store) looking for more card stock for 2-4-6-8 boxes we were going to make for take-home gifts for the mom's group I'm in. I needed 29 more sheets of cottonwood. Not blonde columns, or ivory, or white. Cottonwood. 29 sheets. I'd already gotten 21 sheets at a different store, but I needed 50 total. There was a small stack on the shelf. So I prayed, "God, I need 29 sheets. Please let there be 29 sheets here".

That's why I started this blog. Because I needed 29 sheets of cardstock for a small gift (we're talking the $1 or less variety) for the mom's group I'm in. You see, the question is, "Does God really care about favors for mom's groups?". Should I be wasting His time with little requests like that? Let me tell you the rest of the story.

I picked up the whole stack off the shelf and I counted. 1...2...3. When I got to the last sheet it was 29. "Yeah right. Just a coincidence”, you might say. Maybe if it were just that one time. But it's not out of the ordinary for me, or our Pampering Team (as those of us who plan and make all the gifts and decorations for GEMS Naperville call ourselves). It happens often. Very often. And so I decided it was time to start recording those occasions.

You see, I think God does care. Maybe not about the favors. Those are just things. But about moms. And little gifts that are made just for a mom (not by her kids, I might add) mean something. To her and, maybe because of that fact, to God. Don't agree? Check back. I'll be letting you know about other things that "just happen". If nothing else, I hope to at least get you to wonder.