Recipe

Accountability from a trusted friend is difficult. It is like swallowing a log, one that has occupied your eye for some time now. So, though the relief of removal is sweet initially, one quickly realizes this is going to hurt going down and will be processed for some time, being fiber and all. Yes, accountability sweet as honey, slicing like a sword.

Let me back up a little and begin with a little bit of background about my fascinating vacation.

It all started with a redirection of funds from our annual plane ticket purchases, invested in a similarly priced R.V.

Then, there we some plans, a whole lot of dreaming, some pretty big hopes. Those, along with our bicycles, were strung to the back of our new vehicle and away we went; taking my husband's few days of the year and laying them out in predictable snippets of time dedicated to equal parts family bonding, relaxing camping, and educational museums. It was all so very exciting.

And then we prayed.

We prayed for the typical things: God's provision, personal safety, our children to deepen their love for one another. Next, we had the bright idea of inviting God to clean house on our hearts: to show us where things might have gotten in between us and His sweet self, and to help our vacation to be rejuvenating on a soul level.

Seems like God was open to answering that prayer, and kept answering it for two whole weeks.

Our R.V. broke down on our first leg.  Then, we made the stressful decision to spend the extra money and fly to our final location.  Well, as if that were not enough, subsequent to our financial and dream based woes; the children got sick, our car at home got towed, and we had an extended family moment that resulted in me crying through a sleepless night, while my children cried through the anxiety of getting caught in extended family drama that was new to them. Whew, it felt like God just didn't like me at all anymore. What had I done?

So, I asked him.

It was around 3am, and I had been falling apart for two weeks now, and with nothing left to hold onto , tears streaming uncontrollably down my face with no stoppage.  I slumped, not so boldly, before the throne, and begged. For mercy, insight, and forgiveness for sins that the Lord- one by one- began to reveal, hurriedly, into my heart.

It was 6 am when I climbed out of bed, called a loving/God pursuing friend to pray for me: but first, she wanted to hear it all.

She called it God's pruning.

She told me to guard my children's hearts, that much of what had happened to us was unfair and harsh; a small comfort. Then, she asked if I wanted her to share a harder word- one for my growth. Issuing a breath prayer, that God help me not be crushed, I said yes.

I am all for growth, you know?

Well, this was the generous "Faithful are the wounds of a friend; profuse are the kisses of an enemy (Prov. 27:6)" proverb that I have often read with an ironical interest.

Yes, I like growing more available to God: I beg for Him to create in me a clean heart. I let him know how much I long to know Him more completely, and I want more than anything, to be a better mother, wife, and friend. But does it have to smite so acutely? Does it have to hurt so much?

Apparently, the faithful part is in swallowing the pill, or the big snarly log from my eye - as the case may be.

So, I stand before you, with a cleaning out that leaves me shiny - scathed - but new of heart. A mother who will hold her children more gently, firm, but no longer harsh; a wife with out blame and filled with appreciation, a friend who can not judge, lest she be judged as well.


And the recipe for growth goes something like this:

Put in a enormous dollop of disappointing circumstances outside of your control,
Beat in a friend who loves at all times, even when a hard word is called for
Let rise a revelation of one's sinful heart's secret sins - unspoken, but truly there
Keep wisking in plans that come unraveled whenever a plan is made
Let no settling occur
Give it a week or two
Keep ones heart fresh before the Lord in prayer
Ask your husband often if he feels as blighted as you do, just for good measure
Thank the Lord for your life, and those of your loved ones; taking nothing for granted, keep thanking
When lost, make lists of good things you do have
Hold everything very lightly

And voila, you have the perfect recipe for growth.

You never know, a beautiful purifying of your heart might just come out in the end.

"I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, our Glorious Father, may give you the spirit of wisdom and revelation, that you may know Him better" - Ephesians 1:17

Let's keep asking...

Daily

Sometimes it is depressing, how poor of a cook I am.  I will plan a meal, and not get the right groceries, buy the groceries and let them go bad in the fridge, cut the veggies and then burn them, put the meat to the pan only to have it come out under cooked.  It is embarrassing, and true.  My dear family can recount  the meals through which they have suffered.

For starters, as I child, I was not given the opportunity to help prepare every dinner or shown how a meal magically makes it to the table (home or restaurant or take out).

A tragedy really, as people do need to eat: 3 times a day.  And I have lots of little people in my house who are counting on me to make that happen.

Another area where I really lacked skills, was in child rearing. I was in love with my little ones the moment they were handed to me, especially if you define love as protective; these babies were not going to get hurt or lack under my watch.

But the actual needs of the child were beyond me: the need to be changed when wet, bathed when dirty, teeth brushed twice a day, hair combed into beautiful plaits.  I soon discovered that when babies cry, they needed to be held, comforted, rocked.  As two of my four developed colic, it meant they need to be held constantly, continuously patted, always moved about.

Also imperative was the need to give boundaries. It was imperative for me to to follow up on those boundaries.  I could not let my child cross a boundary with out an immediate consequence.

If they whined, I had to tell them to cheerfully voice their request.  If they asked after being told no, I had to tell them no was not to be questioned.  If they hit, I had to hold the brandishing arm and shush the angry spirit.  If they were headed to the ground to thrash their bodies about in protest, my firm hand had to be there to guide their bodies upward and their faces to mine.  If they took without asking, I had to remind them no deed goes unnoticed.

It was enough to push a patient person to the brink, and I was not a patient person - by any stretch of the imagination.

I think if there had been any way around it, I would have gone there.  But there was no way around it.

We had no family in town to help, no cheerful mentor mom to pop over with guidance, no money to pay a babysitter, no extra income to hire help, and my husband was a full time student and a full time employee.  Yep, I was stuck with the job of feeding and raising the children; it was up to me.

So, like many a good woman of yore, I cried out to God.

"Oh, woe is me, Lord. [interject whiny voice here] I am a stranger in a strange land and these children need a mother but I am sorely poised for the task. [convincing Him this is not possible for me]  Show me the way out of this mess Lord [and here I show him the obvious solution], give me a friend, a mentor mom, or rain down the money so I can hire help.  Just have my husband come home and do it for me,[see, four easy steps] oh Lord, hear me now![notice the helpful biblical tone]"

Needless to say, God's was pretty much mute on the subject.  And it took me a few years to fully understand why.

As it turns out (and you, my dear reader, have already probably noted) I was asking God and man to do my work for me.  And though our Lord is the Lord of the Sabbath, he also made 6 days of work, and saw it as good.

There are different types of work.  I find the most important work is often not attached to a salary.

So, I had to get to work.  I had to get off my pity party to do it; and I had so enjoyed my little pity party.

Here I was, pressed with no choice but to avail.  I had to cook 3 healthy meals a day and these children had to be raised, and raised well.

It was then that God began to show me that every journey begins with a foot step, every plant starts as a seed, and that life could not be rushed into being.

So began my dailies.

I had to daily ask the Lord for help, then daily stand on my own two feet, then daily walk into the bathroom with cheer, while I daily brushed 4 sets of teeth and bathed 4 sets of bodies.  Next, I daily boiled a pot of water, while I daily added whole grain oatmeal, and then daily handed out bowls to be set at the table. I daily watched over behaviors and attitudes, as I daily read the Bible aloud, and daily help the children draw.  I  daily read a quality book aloud, then daily set the children up for puzzle time, while I daily sat and had my quiet time.

Though my rhythm varies during the week, and development changes in the children's capacities calls for adjustments, this has become the way I approach cooking and child rearing.  Surprisingly, it works.

It is a slow, disciplined way to bring about great, exciting results.

My patience has increased as I see life as a set of dailies.  My cooking has improved to the point that 3 out of 4 meals turn out edible!   My children have become quite enjoyable to one another and to me. And, I really like my work.  I wake up with something purposeful to put my hand to, that of improving my life and the lives of husband and children.

It has given me a sense of joy that my pity parties never did.

What are your dailies?  Where can you begin to work today?

"They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." Psalms 126:5