I stood at the kitchen counter, a head of lettuce recently pulled from my garden resting in my hand; cold tap water trickling into the sink. Pulling at each tender leaf, I carefully rinse off the dirt kicked up by the pounding rain from last nights storm. The outer leaves have taken their toll from the beating sun and the bugs that feed on its offering. My fingers trace the burnt lines and chewed holes. I tell myself that they are of no use to me and my family that will partake of them, and so they are discarded into my bucket of useless scraps.

My bucket fills quickly. Too quickly. Today it overflows and it must be taken care of.

I carry my bucket holding the discards of my life through the fresh cut dark green grass, past my arbor full of flowering clematis. I stand in their shade for a moment, breathing deeply, watching the fuschia petals dance in the light breeze. A happy dance. Earth grown, sunshine beauty. Nourished from beautiful, life-giving soil.



I look down at my scraps. Discards of seemingly uselessness. Hurt. Anger. Frustration. Brokenness. Death. Life’s scraps.

Where did I leave my scent of summertime flowers? How did I lose my love for the dancing breeze?

Resting in the morning shade of my apple tree sits my compost pile. It’s putrid. My neglected scraps have rotted within the center. The outer edges have become dried out and brittle. Crumbling with life’s slightest pressure.

I cannot neglect it any longer. It needs to be churned. New breath into the darkness and stench of the heart. The smell gets stronger. I cover my face. It’s almost too much to take in.

There’s pain in the churning. Violent upheaval. Broken I fall to my knees. Honesty spills from the dark places of my heart.

Only in brokenness can there be found true restoration.

The churning has slowed. Where there was once stench in my nostrils now becomes the smell of sweet defeat.



In my brokenness I am delivered. Through the process of restoration, my discarded scraps have become life-giving soil. Only when my roots run deep in Him can I externalize this truth and nourish others.




My soul has found a quiet resting place. Now no longer tormented, can I bring about a true harvest.

Whatever happened to the days of Tinkertoys and wooden blocks? You know, the kind of toys that weren't hazardous to your health or feet?

The other day Isaiah went running through the house and stepped on the sharp end of a LEGO that had been propped up in the carpet.

In an instant I saw the body of my carefree child contort in pain. Sucking in his breath, he hopped twice and immediately fell to the ground pulling the sunken LEGO from his foot.

And then I laughed. Hard.

It took a moment before Isaiah was able to focus beyond his pain, but when he realized that I was actually laughing at him, he got mad.

As he layed there, red faced and rolling on his back, he yelled "It's not funny Mommmmm!"

Not to be outdone of course, I responded with the authority that only a parent who has experienced this kind of pain can. "Are you sure you want to go there? Because I'll have you know that not only do I have a permanent imprint of a LEGO piece, but a Monopoly boot, a toy helicopter rotor blade and a 2 centimeter hole from a thumbtack crouched in the carpet in your bedroom as well!" And I'm only talking about the damage done to my right foot.

Psshh. Wise Guy.

Signed,
Forever Gimpy

(The Lord My Sanctifier)

"God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers,
And thrusts the thing we have prayed for in our face,
A gauntlet with a gift in it."
Elizabeth Barrett Browning

My name is Anna and I have three children.

My youngest child is Naomi. Sweet, gentle-spirited Naomi.

My middle child is Caleb. Mellow, contemplative Caleb.

And then, well...then there's Isaiah.

I don't know what else to say about Isaiah except that he wore straight through the bottom of 4 pairs of tennis shoes last school year alone.

Isaiah is hands down, my biggest source of joy and frustration. Lately though, the emphasis has been put on frustration, and I have resorted to yelling and threatening in order to get him to do his chores, homework or anything not related to skateboarding, riding, jumping, rolling, flipping, flopping and tearing holes in his pants. And guess what? My yelling and threatening has not worked. All it's left me with is a sore throat and a lot of frustration. Meanwhile, Isaiah goes about his business climbing the willow tree near our house and swinging like Tarzan on the low hanging branches.

Can you sense my blood boiling at this point? Good. Because it makes the next part of my story so much better.

After several months of scowling in Isaiah's general direction, and feeling like I was going to loose my mind, I decided that it might be healthier if I were to buy a parenting book instead.

This is what I got:


I love Dr. Kevin Leman. I first listened to him on CD eight years ago, and loved the witty, yet practical advice he gave for effective and intentional parenting.

I just so happened to buy this book at the height of feeling off track and ineffective; worn down from battling chores and homework and everything else. And while my intentions were good, I'm willing to bet that most people would agree that sometimes life gets in the way of our best intentions; laundry piles up, diapers need to be changed, noses wiped, bathrooms cleaned, lawns mowed and healthy dinners served, and well...those intentions get buried and forgotten in the rush of immediate family needs.

What I love most about this book is that it's given me the opportunity to take control of situations without ever having to raise my voice or repeat what I have said, just by following these two simple rules:

Rule #1 - Say it once then walk away. (Kids will learn to listen the first time).
Rule #2 - Allow natural consequences to happen.

Case in point:

One of the homework requirements for Isaiah's class is that he must read five nights a week for at least 20 minutes. Each Friday he is to return a sheet signed by Adam or I that records both the book title and amount of time he read each night. Isaiah prefers to do this part of his homework at night just before bed, as it helps him to settle down. It works for us and always has. But lately he has made this a more difficult task than it needs to be.

On Sunday night at 8pm, knowing full well the battle that would arise, I told Isaiah that it was time to take a shower, brush his teeth and start reading.

He ignored me.

Note to self: You said it once. Now walk away.


At 8:45 (15 minutes after lights are supposed to be off) Isaiah had just finished taking a shower, dancing to imaginary music and rummaging through the toys in his room.

Note to self: Stay calm. Allow natural consequences to happen.

At 9:00pm, Isaiah finally brushes his teeth, climbs into bed and says, "Mom, I'm ready to start reading. Will you start the timer please?"

Note to self: The fun is about to begin. Stay calm while informing Isaiah of his consequences.

No Isaiah, you don't get to read tonight.

What?

Look at the time. It's 9:00. You were supposed to have been in bed 30 minutes ago.

But I have to do my homework!!!

You know when your bedtime is and you know what needs to be done before you go to bed. I reminded you once of what needed to be done but you chose to ignore me. And because you are not allowed to stay up until 9:30 on a school night, you will have to turn in incomplete homework.

WHAT?!? Now I'm going to be in so much trouble!

Yes, you will need to explain to your teacher why it's incomplete.

(Crying and rolling on the floor) But you didn't tell me tha...

I did. You chose to ignore me.

I can't believe that you are doing this to me! It's not fair! I have to do my homework! Please, I'll do anything. You can ground me from my skateboard for a month. Just please let me do my homework. I promise!

I left him hysterically crying in his room, knowing that engaging him in an argument would do no good.

A few minutes later Adam and I heard Isaiah digging around in his closet, followed by a strange, rhythmic crinkling noise. We looked at each other quizzically, then went to see what was going on. We found Isaiah laying in his bed breathing into a brown paper bag as though his world had just come crashing down around him.




Being the kind of person I am, I had to press my lips together so that I wouldn't say what I was really thinking: Face it kid: I'm older, wiser and I just read a really good book!

I will tell you this though: We have yet to have another battle over bedtime or homework.

Amen. And amen.

Until today, I couldn’t quite figure out why the word intentional has been on my mind, but throughout the past several weeks, as various scenarios have played over and over in my daily life, I have been reminded that I have been created for a purpose. In order to fully live the life I was created for though, I cannot continue to live half-heartedly, going from one mindless act to the next.

I need purpose in my life. That is where I thrive.

This fact became most prevalent when I opened my pantry the other day and reached for a Zebra Cake, the flashy equivalent to yesteryears Ding Dong. First of all, I don’t even like Zebra Cakes. The fact that that they were even in my pantry was proof enough of my mindless state when I purchased them at the grocery story. Second, as I unwrapped the sugar-laden treat and shoved it in my mouth, I knew that in 30 seconds, that sweat treat would turn sour and sit like a brick in my stomach.

Why did I choose to eat that Zebra Cake when I knew full well that it would leave me feeling sick, tired and depressed? Why did I decided to read that book while playing with Caleb at the same time, causing me to get frustrated and his feelings to get hurt? And here’s a big one: Why do we, as a society, over-schedule our lives with activities and busyness to the point where we become numb to the possibility of living a life of real purpose?

If I am to feel a sense of achievement in my life, I first need to know who I am in Christ, and where He has me at any given moment. As with each one of us, he has also given me specific gifts and desires in order to achieve that purpose.

Right now, I am a mom to three young children. If there was ever a job that required intention, this would be it. My first purpose for my children is that they grow up knowing the Lord. My second purpose is to teach them the importance of living a life of character and compassion. As any one who has reared children knows, this requires a lot of energy and time…and more energy still. If I am filling myself up on Zebra Cakes that leave me feeling sick and tired, or validating my self-worth through busyness and endless activities, then I can’t quite do the job that I intend to do.

I suppose it’s time for me to rethink my mindless activities and get back to the life that God intended for me to live. After all, while those Zebra Cakes are satisfying for about 30 seconds, in the end, they have no lasting value.

Autumn made an early entrance this year.

I love Autumn, but I am not quite ready for it. After all, Summer didn't arrive until July, and even at that, it never brought with it those long, unbearably hot days that leave you yearning for the crisp mornings that accompany Autumn.

This early Autumn showing means that we need to bundle ourselves up on our morning walk to the bus-stop. As I was searching Naomi's dresser this morning for pants that actually fit her, it occurred to me that she has outgrown her 12 month clothes. Clothes that, up until two months ago, hung loose and long. She's finally growing! I had been celebrating this fact for about five minutes when I decided that I also needed to get dressed. As I grabbed my pants and started to pull them on, something else occurred to me...

Do you know the old saying, "like mother, like daughter?' I had no idea how horribly true that statement really was until this morning when I realized that coincidentally, I have also outgrown my pants...only this time, it's neither cute nor worthy of celebration.

Signed,
Pudgy in Idaho

Several years ago - and by several, I mean over 6 years - a really uncomfortable thing happened to me. I don't mean for it to sound as though this was just a strange occurrence that just happened to fall into my lap. I mean, I could write several stories about the circumstances that I have accidentally found myself in; including but not limited to: the penis incident in Singapore, death on the tarmac in Siberia and the gun in Goodwill. And once I can wash the look of shocked Asian faces out of my mind, I will get to those stories. As for right now though, I want to share about an incident that I walked into, knowing full well that I was going to look like a complete fool.

It all started one day when Isaiah was a little over one year old. He had just finished lunch and it was getting close to his nap time, when I felt the Lord tell me to ask my neighbor if I could pray for her. She was in the last stages of cancer. Bedridden, she spent her remaining days in the warm, sunny front room of her house. Isaiah and I would visit her often, and she would smile as if those short visits would make her pain a little more bearable.

It seems like an easy thing to do; to pray for a dying person. After all, who wouldn't accept a prayer said over them?

Did I mention that she was a Jehovah's Witness?

A Christian's prayer over a Jehovah's Witness is received about as well as asking a Muslim or Jew to eat pork. It's just the truth. And this truth played over in my mind as I walked home from my neighbors house, embarrassed and angry at God for asking me to do such a thing when He knew the outcome would be my own feelings of humiliation.

I quickly shut my front door and then began questioning God; How could You do such a thing to me? Why would You do such a thing to me. And just so You know, God...I'm never doing anything you say...ever again! So there.

And then I called my Dad and shared with him my horrible, uncomfortable, humiliating story. We talked a bit about it, and what it could mean, but it didn't change the way I felt. After all, embarrassment like that takes time to get over.

A few days later, I received a letter in the mail from my Dad regarding our earlier conversation, and upon reading it, my world was flipped upside down. I understood.

Maybe you will too...

Dear Anna,

Your phone call late last week has given me 'food for thought' these few days since. I, too, ask a number of questions...like "why does God call (or command) us to act or speak with no apparent positive outcome?"

Just a couple of random thoughts...

It seems to me that God is not limited in working out a plan for the present or near future only. As He prepares us for a short term, present-time work...He is likely forming us for a greater work in the future. What seems like a huge challenge for us will in retrospect become a reasonable small step in a powerful Christian testimony. You were able to watch Isaiah take his first step. Surely to him it seemed a fearful thing to throw himself off balance just in order to move toward his loving parents a few feet away. After falling, hanging on to coffee tables and chairs...he takes that step that changes his life opportunities in a way he never imagined.

But that is not the end for him...he will learn to run, to jump...leave the earth for a moment under his own power. Next will be playing sports, riding a bike and walking to school on his own. Yet without risking that first step, he would never enjoy the rest.

So, what seemed to be 'failures' in Isaiah's attempts to walk were actually confidence builders. Falling wasn't nearly so painful - and besides, there's more to experience a little higher up and farther out.

I suppose obedience is a bit like learning to walk. We need to recognize that small steps of obedience to God are preludes to running with Him.

Jeremiah, the Prophet, was used by God to challenge Israel to 'train' to live large for God. At one point he says:

"If you only train to run with footmen and have become worn out, how can you expect to compete with horses that are much faster? If you stumble and fall down in an easy place where peace abounds, how will you do when you are stuck in the wilderness?"
Jeremiah 12:5

Could it be we are 'toddlers' being trained to eventually "run with the horses?" God surely wants us to set our spiritual sights high...especially since He is our power to attain lofty goals.

It seems that in the six years since first obeying God's call to pray for my neighbor, I have begun to stretch my legs and throw myself off balance. I'm not there yet - not by a long shot - but I will face, with courage, the opportunities He gives me in order that I too, will one day run with the horses.

It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.
- C. S. Lewis

...Who insists on wearing his polyester ninja costume paired with a blue, button-down Batman shirt and red bandana, has no right going to Kindergarten.





Or riding on this bus alone.



No right at all.

My heart just can't take it.

Dear Caleb,

How can it be that you are in Kindergarten already? Wasn't it just yesterday that you would snuggle in my lap, suck your fingers, and we would watch Daddy and Isaiah wrestle on the floor. You wanted no part of that. And now...now, you are just as rough as they are.

Do you remember when you needed my help buttoning your pants or pulling on your socks? What about putting on your shirt and shoes? I used to help you do that too.

I'm not sure that I am ready to let you go yet. School is for big kids, and well...you will never be big enough to me. But I know you're ready, so I will make you a deal: You can go to school if you let me follow along. I know, I know. While you're in school, I spend my time catching up on housework, but I don't see why I can't just sit in the back of your classroom and fold laundry. I promise I won't fold your clean underwear in front of your classmates. Would that be okay with you?

What Caleb? You don't want me to come with you? You want to do this alone? Okay, I will let you go, but I want you to know that if you need me, I will be there in an instant. Oh, and Caleb, I need to tell you just one more thing...your shirt is backwards.