Tradition that Grew into a Stone…

I just love the stories behind unspoken actions, traditions…

The ones where we live what others began and carry on what others will adopt.

I peel the potatoes.

She, my big helper, pulled the pot out of the cupboard.

She rinsed it with water.

I smiled.

She filled it with water.

I put it next to the cutting board.

She asked which knife to use.

I pulled one out of the block on the counter.

She asked how big to cut the cubes; after I showed her, she tried to be careful.

I remember asking my Mom the same questions.

I remember not knowing ‘which way was up,’ and knowing that my mom would just know, I awaited instruction to move.

And this little one now comes up to my chest.

She doesn’t just give a little to our family, she breaks even.

Before too long, she might be able to give more then she takes.

But I won’t rush it along.

Just seeing her rinse the pot…

Like my Grandmother did,

Like my Mom did,

And Me…

A hundred times before, rinsing the pot or wiping the dish out before using it.

How do these almost sacred traditions begin?

I once asked my Mom.  She said that the Israelites did it.

This left me bewildered, for we are neither of Israelite heritage (that I know of) nor Israelite scholars (except for reading the Old Testament).

Yet, I assumed as my imagination ran wild, that it all probably started in the desert where they wandered for 40 years. 

Nobody wants sand in their pot or its crunch in their food.

So they rinsed or wiped to begin…

Without words, without question.

So their children did the same

Like my Grandma, my Mom, my daughter and I.

We walk in the path established by those long before us.

Do not move an ancient boundary stone set up by your ancestors.     Proverbs 22:28

We chose not to break tradition.  Maintaining those sacred boundary stones, that establish where we’ve always been, and what’s safe is important to do and pass on.

Yet, how many times have we overstepped those boundaries and felt the crunch, like gravel in our mouth, from moving the stone or not rinsing the pot, and taking more then we give, like one who doesn’t know which way is up.

So we make mashed potatoes like many before us.

And this is where my imagination took me, as I peeled the stack of potatoes and felt the sense of pride

Knowing that however the tradition began, that to me, it grew into a stone.

A stone with only a few faces that I’ve seen in my lifetime engraved upon it.

And anticipating those to come...

Those who find safety in the placement of the sacred

And rinse their pot before using it.

Laundry Piles of Pride…

“Please pray with me!” The call comes from a dear friend early this morning.

“Hold on,” she says, “I’ll call you back in a minute.” Click.

I go to sort my laundry while I wait, even though I should be showering.

Wow, it gets so out of control…

Squeezing around the door between the washer and the piled laundry pushing the door so it barely opens

I start thinking about praying with my friend.

I looked at the laundry piled high.

I begin to mumble a prayer for her while I wait and realize there is pride baring my prayer like my laundry bared the door. 

I realize God caused this delay.

Hindered, my prayer, piles up on the floor amongst the rest of my over due dirty mess.

I’d love to offer excuses but I simply have a hard time wanting to use a washer that starts spraying water out after it spins and a dryer that takes an hour and a half to dry a load.

So it piles up, like my pride, the whole huge dirty mess of it.

It’s so cluttered I barely know where to start.

So I decide praying for my friend is an easy excuse.

It’s easier to excuse our messes, our pride, then to begin the sorting process…

The actual picking up and looking at each dirty piece,

And being so discouraged over the mess that we really are in

But I start.

I pick up a handful of darks; this towel bleeds all over everything.
I pick up the area of my heart that grew stained with pride from the thought of a person coming to me for prayer.

Like I’m something…ha ha
“God I’m nothing… especially if I compare myself to You.  My prayer, also, is no good if it’s blocked by pride and I need you to hear this prayer for my friend.”

I sort the whites into the first basket.
I know my heart needs bleaching.

How dirty I get so quickly.

How long I leave the stains.

“Forgive me for being more focused on what You do for me then on You.”

I pick up the lights. Those socks that seem to fall everywhere…

My heart feels saddened.  “Forgive me for falling into the trap of thinking too much of myself.”

I pick up the bathroom rug, the blanket, the pillow and set them aside.

I again see myself for who I am, in comparison to Him, and set myself aside.

He forgives my sin.

I start my first load.

I hear the phone ringing.

I smile over my straightened room.  His job also accomplished.

No more distractions.  I humbly go.

“Hello.  Yes, I’m ready to pray!”

The Lord is far from the wicked, but He hears the prayer of the righteous.  Proverbs 15:29

No Matter What!

Whew, I just tucked in my two littlest ones.

They were so precious.  The older of the two asked me if I would love my kids no matter what.

I responded with the obvious answer, “Yes, I would! No matter what!”

She asked, “Even if they didn’t clean their room?”

“Well, I wouldn’t like that but I would always love them, no matter what!”

I gave them extra kisses and spent extra time tucking them in, just in case there was any doubt.

So how young is it that we learn what pleases the ones in our lives?

How young is it that we understand how our identity is formed by others.

Formed by the very way they view us.

So we crave their love, their care towards us and their positive opinion of us…

No matter what!

Oh and those moments, when we were still young and tender, when we were deeply wounded by a parent, a mean kid at school or someone else close to us…

You know those times, when you stand stunned that someone could treat someone so…

Is there really a word for it?

A word for an action or string of words that steals a child’s innocence, shades their trust in people or opens their eyes to a new world

A world where people treat people inhumanly

A world where a tender, impressionable young one is wounded

Wounded by the reality of how harsh, evil and cruel the world we live in truly is.

A world where the devil is the prince of the power of the air and roams about looking for little ones, and big ones, to devour

Today, my day consisted of a lot of young ones running in, out and around. 

And I love them.

Because it’s a privilege

Because I know who they are

Because I want them to always remember that their Mom or their friend’s Mom believed the best in them.

Just in case…

Just in case, the world throws a brick of evil words through the windows of their heart.

Just in case, the roaring lion strives to rip them to shreds, trying to destroy them.

Just in case, they think of forgetting because in all those thoughts that pass through their heads, a lie weaves its way in.

Regardless of how much I love them, pour into them or protect them, I can’t keep them from the truth…

The truth of what kind of world we live in or the kind of people we live in it with.

Today I lived in it with a difficult person, a hurtful person and a manipulative, sneaky person.

And I was upset.

Deeply upset.

Probably because I care, more than them,

Maybe because I long so desperately for the hope of what’s coming that I forget I still live here…

With the broken that lashes out; with the wounded that wound; with the empty that cling.

Or maybe because I still long for earthly approval; I do delight in others love and I glean joy from pleasing others.

Maybe because somewhere along the way I grew to love what those things did for me and put those things first.

But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.  Matthew 6:33

I know my King has set an exact and perfect course for me and that I am to walk that out.

How dangerous is it if others words or actions cause an earthquake for me as I walk that course out?

How stable and do-able is that walk going to be?

For he that wavereth (hesitates, doubts) is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.  James 1:6 (Parenthesis are added from the Amplified Bible)

 

Well, I’m sick of rethinking my course because of those strong winds and people who blow across my path.

See I know who I am…

His!

I know where I’m going…

Home someday, and

I know why…

Because I’m His Christ-follower with a plan and a purpose!

Not to dwell in the lions den for longer then the night.

Not to sway or be upset by the wild winds that blow or the quakes that strive to shift.

And not to be measured by the other peoples standards

But to love…

No matter what,

Him first and you second.

No matter what!

The Ministry of Interruptions…

I’m just noticing how my everyday tasks fill in my day.

How no matter how much time I a lot those tasks, they seem to fill in my time plus some.  I think that’s because of the interruptions.

A dear friend used to say, “Our interruptions are our ministry.”

As I was walking through the house to get the cleanser to clean the toilet I stopped many times…

“Stop fighting!” 

“Come here, you need a hug.”

“Clean your room!”

 “Stop smearing Play-Doh on the window!” 

“Now, why did I come down here?   Oh yes, to straighten the kitchen… I think.”

I bend over to pick up the food dropped on the floor, wipe off the window smeared with orange, and pick up the Lego, dropping it into my pocket.

“What am I doing?  Oh yeah, getting the cleanser to clean the toilet.”

Taking the stairs, two at a time; I long to fight these interruptions.  I just want to finish something without stopping.  I recognize the frustrated, angry feeling well up inside me.  I drop off the Lego into its box and go to clean the toilet.  Finding it needs the plunger; I pick up the dirty laundry on the floor and drop it off in the hamper on the way. 

The dirtiest thing isn’t the toilet, it’s my attitude!

I think I hate interruptions. 

I pick up the Polly pieces and stick them in my pocket before the vacuum gets them.

How in the world could they be my ministry?

I throw in another load of laundry.  I restart the dryer, the towels are still wet.  I get the plunger.

“Honey, help your sister.” 

“Boys you’re doing a great job.”

I feel like a wet towel, a stopped up toilet with a displaced heart.

I clean up the toilet.

I’m a messy job but God makes quick work of getting the cleanser without much delay.

I picked up this mantle when I picked up my blanket wrapped little ones that now drop too much toilet paper in the toilet and too many toys and food on the floor.

So my ministry began to ones who don’t yet give back, ones who interrupt, ones who stir-up trouble.  Ones that can appear to be interruptions.

I decide to leave the cleanser under the sink, put away the Polly’s in my pocket and have my littlest ones clean up their new mess of scissors and markers.

Like them, I find I go from one mess to another and find time escapes me to catch the ones that fall through the cracks, like the paper shreds through the cracks between the table and its leaf.

I feel Gods cleanser strip me as I pick up and scrub our own grime away.

I stop the mundane to give direction, to feed a hungry heart, to clean up an attitude…

Sometimes mine.

Yup, this is my ministry and as I walk by and look at my sparkling toilet…

I know it won’t last long. I pick up the blanket on the steps, throw my mantle over my shoulder, and carry it proudly.

I know that soon they won’t carry blankets, play with Play-Doh or Lego's, or leave the toilets to me,

But for now, I minister to these who interrupt and are learning to obey and not fight with their siblings, doing and teaching them all I can...

Until God will be the one to minister to their attitudes His cleanser,

Until their wills shine for Him,

Until He sits back to appraise His reflection in their eyes,

And until they pick up their own life's mantle, and possibly blanket wrapped little ones,

That He lays out for them.

Until then, my interruptions are my ministry…

In the Dark, In the Sand…

You know those times when you aren’t feeling very good about yourself?

When you miss those companions that used to fit you like a glove

You know those times, where your heart feels like its breaking

For the “what ifs”, the “I wishes” and the “if onlys.”

It seems when you’re in that very place, when you need a friend just to understand, the phone rings,

“Uh huh.  Oh, OK.”  Another thing to deal with… another demand.

Where’s someone to hear me, feel my heartbeat, know me?

You have taken from me friend and neighbor- darkness is my closest friend.  Psalms 88:18

How I long for a walk on the beach

I have bathed in the sunset, felt the waves roll gently in.

Pressed my toes into the sand

Feel the water swirl around my feet, filling in the depressions that press into my heart.

God, that’s what I’ve forgotten… how you stick closer that a brother

How I’ve needed you

I feel like I’m stuck in quicksand, not on a joyful journey.

I feel like the sun is setting leaving me stranded in the dark.

“… Moses approached the thick darkness where God was.”  Exodus 20:21

Yet, this is where I find You…

Here…

In the dark, In the sand

Long after the sun has set.

Sticking closer than a brother, than a friend with skin

I cling

Knowing You have me here

Adjusting my eyes

Trusting it’s for great purpose

And here I dwell, where my companions…

Moses, David, Jesus, and Paul once lived.

Their recorded footprints tread a path before me.

In the dark, in the sandy desert places where the hope of an oasis isn’t just a mirage

And a friend, Jesus, my King of my darkness and sand, dwells with me until my feet are washed in the sandy water, that rubs me like sandpaper,

And me smoothed to His likeness.

So that I can run in the fields and drink from His oasis

When the sun rises…

In the morning



~I wrote this on a day when I felt lonely and discontent.  I used to fight those emotions and purposely try not to feel them.  Somewhere along the way though, I learned that negative emotions can have great purpose and lead to a greater fulfillment of life.  It just so happens that this discontent allowed for the sweetest reunion with those companions that "fit me like a glove."  May the greatest friend of all help you see the "whys" behind your dark days.
In Him,
Jen

Us "Nots"...

"Whats your name?"  I ask the new little boy in the neighborhood.  He answers.

"Oh, I've heard the other kids talk about you."

"Yeah," he says, "I'm bigger and stronger than the other kids.  I can even ride my bike faster.  Wanna see?"

My attention zoomed in on this kid.  Now knowing that he's not just "any" kid; I reply, "Oh is that so!  I would love to see how fast you ride your bike."

After he goes into the street and races up and down so fast and so hard that sweat drips down his temples, I commend him and his excellent efforts!  He can ride amazingly fast, and then I encourage him to use the brakes and not the soles of his shoes to turn, because brakes are so much "cooler."  Then I ask "Can I ask you a few questions?" to which he consents.  "Do you sometimes feel like you aren't as special as the other kids?"

His body squirms, his eyes don't meet mine but land off in the distance somewhere.  "Sometimes," came the quiet reply.  I knew "sometimes" didn't tell half the story that his body language and the sad tone of his voice did.

You know that old saying, "It takes one to know one."  Well, in this case it is very true.  I recognized in him rejection, a great pain, and a wound that seemed to cut into his very being.  Have you ever identified with someone, a speaker, an author, a singer, a friend, who was bold enough to share an experience that changed their very being?  And as you listened, your soul stirred.  Those memories came back to your mind and you understood the presenters very heartbeat.  Their very emotions or experiences that had changed them, at sometime, had changed you too.  Me too....

See, when I looked into that little boys eyes, I recognized something I've seen in my own eyes.  One time I wrote... Her Eyes and it tells about those eyes that speak.  One part says,

"I wear eyes that speak for me,

They tell the story of hurt,

They tell the story of brokenness,

They speak of pain...

When I see talking eyes on others I know what to do,

When I see them in the mirror staring back at myself I wish to take them off like a pair of glasses...

I wear a pair of eyes that don't shield me but reveal me.

They speak where my mouth can't."

And his eyes spoke what his words couldn't. 

Thankfully, My King has come to heal and use the wounds behind the eyes that reflect so transparently.

But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.  God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are "Not"—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him.

1 Corinthians 1:27-29 (Underline and Paranthesis are mine because I see me in that little word)

That little boy was a "Not".  I know that he even knows because he immediately tried to "convince" me otherwise.  He even tried to blow-out the other kid's candles' to try to "convince" himself that he's not a "Not".  I used other tactics when I was young, but they all are used for the same purpose.  Somewhere along the way though... I gave up.  I gave up riding my bike as fast as I could, I gave up the sweating, because you do sweat when you try to fight against what God created you to be.  My shoes stopped wearing out as quickly at that point because I learned my purpose and used the breaks on my old thinking. 

When I stopped fighting the realization that I was a "Not," and started to live in that reality, I found myself more emptied...
For His purposes.

I knew who I wasn't, and was Ok with how I so quickly ran out of what I really needed. That left me finding myself dependant upon Him...

Always for His love because others love is empty and failable 

Always for His Joy because it's like putting on His strength. 

Always for Him because His gifts aren't even enough. 

Yes, we "Not's" experienced much pain and reduction to bring us to the place where He needed us to be.  Yet, I've found...

Your way was in the sea,
Your path in the great waters,
And Your footsteps were not known.
Psalms 77:19

So, through our wildernesses, our tribulations, our great waters, our King's presence, His very footprints went with us.  His plan for those who could be considered "Not's" is to race past the worldly wisdom, the human strength, and the things that appear to "be", to show Him as The Great I Am.

You see, truely abiding in Him changes our "Not" into whatever He "would be," in whatever the moment calls for Him "to be." 

Only this Great kind of God could choose a "Not" and shine His Goodness through! 
A "Not" like that little boy, and somehow, even me.

"See I know something about you.  Even though I just met you," I told the little boy.  I know that God created you and that He never makes mistakes.  I know that He has a plan for your life and great purpose for you to carry out.  So don't worry so much about not feeling like you aren't as special as the others because in God's eyes, you couldn't be more special."

Our eyes locked.

He smiled

And he, another "Not", rode off on his bike without racing, because he's begun his journey of finding who he is, in the eyes of the One who truely matters.