Turning

I'm good at claiming God's promises for other people. I believe with everything in me that he is a God of power and love, that he is faithful and longsuffering...for everyone else who believes. 

I've been told that I turn the gospel into a law. There is something in me that wants to run away from grace. Grace makes me feel bad! Why? Because I don't deserve it! Hello! That's why it is called grace; it is unmerited. And God comes after me with all this grace, full and overflowing with grace, and I duck and turn and bob and weave. 

Grace is free. But it's not, too. Jesus paid a high price for me. Jesus paid the price but what is asked of me? To believe. And belief leads to change. And change is scary; change means giving up control...I like to be in control. But Christina in control equals wreckage and explosions and disasters and tears and anxiety and bedlam. 

Each day, I feel more and more the pull to change, though. The control is not mine and it never has been. I've just imagined that it was. I'm pretty stubborn though. Thinking about what a rebellious kid I am makes me realize how very deeply patient God is. What makes him so patient? I don't know, except he is who he is. 

He is. He said so...he told Moses,"I AM." I can almost hear his voice. I hear a deep, rolling, thunderous voice, that reverberates against the walls of the crevice in which Moses hid his face. It's deep, but it's gentle. It's rolling, but it's intimate. It's thunderous, but it's loving. I think that the earth would shake at the sound of his voice! As would my knees! And yet, his father-love, yes, that is what I would know beyond anything else. 

He is so patient. 

I followed Michaela into her room tonight and began cleaning up. This room? Sometimes it's messy, but this? Her floor was covered. Her bed was covered. The closets were overflowing. Her books were scattered. There were bits of paper, crayons, fabric, pieces and parts of all kinds of toys, laundry, and a partridge in a pear tree. 

Not really about the bird, but an ant was crawling on her leg at one point, and I had to get it for her. I told her,"If you don't want ants in here, then smashed candy canes on your book shelf are not a good idea." 

I gathered up the trash and the dirty clothes and put all of that in the hallway to get later. I made a couple of piles of American Girl things for the bin in which those things are supposed to be stored. I picked up books. I picked up bits of this and that. I got rid of Eliana's things, which didn't belong in her room at all. I wasn't able to finish, but I did get a start, and all the while I was cleaning she was working on Valentines. At first, I was fighting anger. (And I'm sure many who read this might feel indignant on my behalf. Or maybe just want to thump me on the head for being a pushover.) I wanted her to offer to help. She did say,"You know, you're good at cleaning up...it's the keeping it clean that gets you." I told her,"I can't clean up after five people." I didn't ask her to help me; maybe I should have. At that point I wanted to get it done as quickly as I could. I wanted to throw things away without asking! In the end, though, I do want her to keep her own stuff cleaned up! 

You know, she has such an excellent example. *choke, choke, snort, gag*

As I picked things up, my anger simmered down. A friend on Facebook the other day posted a couple of quotes which basically said the same thing: kids are watching what we do and doing that, not so much listening to what we say and doing that. That is the truth, and that is what I was thinking as I did all the work. 

As I thought about it, I realized this is how God is. While I sit and work on love notes for all those things that my heart chases after, God is working on my behalf. I think of and make a priority of so many things that are not God. And, sure, he's important and I love him, but do I make him the number one love? I can't say that I do. I might stop and say,"Wow, God, you're so great at restoring that person and for making changes in her life!" and then I get back to work on my Valentine, which is not for God. All the while that I'm ignoring my Creator, the one who sustains me and loves me, he's busy picking up my mess, cleaning up after me, taking the bits and pieces of all that is broken and torn and tucking them away. He is clearing a space, making it clean, getting rid of the grunge. He does a little bit at a time, and he knows that it is going to take a while. But he continues the process: removing this altogether, putting that in its proper place, making room for what belongs. He is patiently renewing. 

And I? As his child, am I watching? Am I both listening and paying attention? If I am, then I will be doing what he does. And because he is I AM, what he says and what he does are perfectly consistent. He is the perfect parent, the one who shows us what we ought to do by doing it himself. He loves the unlovely. And his love makes them lovely. He is the prodigal God (as Tim Keller shows us) in his reckless abandon love for us; he has given everything for us so that we might be his very own sons and daughters! As the prodigal daughter who has with reckless abandon squandered so much, I very deeply desire to return home. He is already running toward me. 

It is time to turn around. 

A Round-About on Perspective

I took Christian to a birthday party yesterday. I went to the front door with him, and when the dad of Christian's friend opened the door, Christian and I went in. Their dog was checking us out, sniffing and wiggling and doing what dogs do when someone new comes into its house. As the dog sniffed my leg, I noticed that my pants were suddenly cold and wet. I had dog snot on my leg. Dog. Snot. I am not a fan of dog stuff on my person, and I was anxious to get home and change. 

Before I left the boy's house, I asked the father about the twin babies who were just born very recently. He said they were still in intensive care. They were about 1 and 2 pounds at birth, and the little girl was struggling but the boy was a tough little guy. I told him that we would be praying for the babies and for him and his wife too. 

I talked to Mike before I drove off from the boy's house; Mike asked me if I would go to Home Depot for him before coming home so I could get the part he needed to fix the toilet. I went to Home Depot in my snotty pants. I won't lie, I was bothered by it...but it was no longer a Very Important Thing.

When I got home from dropping Christian off and running the errand, I parked Mike's truck in the driveway in the back. Our driveway slopes down to the alley. I turned the key but couldn't get it out. I started the truck again, tried to turn the truck off and remove the key, but still couldn't do it. I tried once more and then, exasperated, I thought,"I'll just have him come out here and do it! What is wrong with me?!" I pushed the emergency brake down (like I always do) and I took my foot off the regular brake and the car began rolling backwards. I heard a little yelp and looked back quickly to see Eliana's door open; I quickly smashed my foot back on the brake. I realized that the parking brake had not engaged, that Eliana was still in the truck and okay, and that I had not put the car in park, all at the same time. Something had distracted me once I had pulled into the drive, and I have no idea what it was. Knowing that I almost did something very terrible to Eliana...there are no words for that feeling of panic. Everything inside of me felt like it was coming up into my throat. We will now have a rule that she may not open the door before I get out of the car. And I may not get out of the car while it is anything but parked. We all need rules. 

Dog snot on my pants is rather unpleasant. Hearing of another family's babies fighting for their lives is heartbreaking. Running errands for my husband while I'm out anyway is no big deal at all. Realizing anew in a heartbeat's time how much you love your kids is painful and eye-opening. 

Perspective. I was distressed when the dog snotted on my pants. But really? There are problems in the world that are so much more worth my distress. I'm going to try to focus on what needs to be focused on each day, both here at home and in the world. Seemingly impossible task? Maybe. I'm going to do it anyway. 

A Marriage Poem

Mike spent the day dealing with Plumbing Issues here. I am grateful that he is able and willing to do such things, and because I appreciate his plumbing skills, among other things, I thought I would honor him with a poem.

Years ago, when I was young
I made a promise to my mom
I'd never marry a minister
Nor a guy as hairy as Tom*

Turns out I was wrong both times
God had different plans for me
I said yes to a hairy dude
Who aimed to be in ministry

Little did we know back then
What the future had in store
Fifteen years have now gone by
With God's grace we'll have much more

In marriage there's so much to learn
We learn a lot as days go by
We get things right, we get things wrong
Sometimes we laugh, sometimes we cry

Our family has been knit with care
It is a special bond we share
We each have gifts we bring to bear
Most would say we're quite a pair
Mike, the fixer of commodes
Christina, writer of the odes

*Tom Selleck

Indoor Glamping...Camping in Style

Tonight Mike and I were invited as guests to Christian's school's fundraiser. 

The theme of the evening was Bingo Glamping. Or Glamping Bingo. I have a hard time remembering, but there was glamping and there was bingo, one way or the other. 

Glamping. Have you heard of it? Well, we sure hadn't. And to make matters trickier, we weren't actually going camping. Wait...maybe I've gotten too far ahead of myself, for, if you didn't know, glamping is a combination of glamor and camping. 

So we were stuck trying to figure out several things, and not with much time to do it. First, what in the world did glamping even mean? Second, were we supposed to dress like we were going camping but in glamorous clothes? Third, and related to the second, were we supposed to dress in fancy clothes except for something campy, like hiking boots or a camo vest? The questions seem identical, but they aren't. There are nuances, folks. 

Mike looked up glamping on the internet, and hello! plethora of information on fancy camping gear and clothes that look like you might be camping but are just a bit chic-er. It seems like there are a couple of glamping camps.

Ha. 

We learned that there are tents which contain multiple rooms. "Why be crowded?" one website questioned, boasting a humongous, roomy tent which would easily house your whole family and may have included a shower. 

(Just kidding about the shower.)

There are mattresses that blow up luxuriously so none of those pesky roots and rocks poke through the tent bottom into your back or your sides while you are trying to sleep in the great outdoors. There are fancy food cookers which allow you to make gourmet meals even though you are far from Central Market, if you are "really into food". I'm guessing there are also utensils, light fixtures, and other special furniture and electronic devices which take all of the outdoorsy inconvenience out of camping and offer you the comforts of home without all the...home? 

Now, the other glamping set is the wear-flannel-lined-cargos-with-hiking-boots-and-plaid-shirts-as-well-as-a-fitted-fishing-vest-along-with-a-cute-hat-to-Starbucks group. And, really, some of those outfits were absolutely adorable. And very campy. With the glam touch of a darling purse. 

I was particularly attracted to the flannel-lined cargos. So. Cute. And I've been a fan of the hiking boot for many years now. Sometimes I even like to hike!

After great consideration, we decided what we would wear. I was nervous that when we showed up we would stand out like the two oddballs that we are. (I mean, do you know us?!) But as far as outfits went, we parked the camper right in the middle of the clearing. There were people who were more glamorous. There were people who were more campy. So...I think we did a good job dressing ourselves. (And it was really fun, actually, to see the different takes on the theme.) (Also, no one else had a clue what glamping was before this event.)

The food was good, the bingo was fun (even if it wasn't all that fast), and the company was great. Mike even won a few things in the silent auction that will be neat to share with the kids tomorrow.

The only thing missing was a campfire and a guitar. 

Friday, You're Only a Day Away

Today was Thursday.

This is important to note mainly because for about twenty-four hours, from yesterday afternoon until this afternoon, I thought it was Friday.

Yes. I thought it was Friday when it was only Thursday.

And so. 

Well.

I don't even know what to say.

I get an extra day to do stuff?

I thought we were so much closer to the weekend...

But I get more time to plow through my laundry?

I even took the garbage down to the alley yesterday so that it would be all ready bright and early this morning.

It's like I'm taking procrastination down! I said,"Hey! You like to procrastinate? Well, how about this?! How about being a FULL DAY EARLY, HUH?! How do you like them apples?!"

And then I said back to myself,"Apples? I need to go to Sam's and get some fruit. I wonder if blueberries are still crazy expensive? I must not forget contact solution!" Michaela and I are almost out. 

What I'm really doing right now is procrastinating. I've got a fierce kitchen to tackle. But before I do, I'm going to stick some pictures of Eliana on here because I took some of her today, and she's awfully cute. Also? Procrastinating!

She and Michaela took it upon themselves to further tidy up the bookshelf that I cleaned up the other day (Really I cleaned up in front of the bookshelf...now you can actually stand in front of it and get stuff off of it!) and during that process, Eliana came across this notebook that has pages with a space for a picture and then lines for a story. She began a story. 

"Kate had a hat. The hat had a bat that came with it. The bat came with a ball." Then she drew a picture of Kate playing ball with a friend. So cute!! Usually she wants me to tell her how to spell things the right way, but before she started, I told her to write the words how she thought they sounded. She did a pretty good job too. 

Since she was feeling independent today, she also wanted to make her own sandwich for lunch. I was hoping that she would be more inclined to eat it if she made it. 

She ate about half of it. I also put Nutella on it. That helped. Ha!

Later in the day, she wanted to paint. Painting doesn't make nearly the mess that it used to and I was getting dinner ready, so I thought,"Why not?" 

She informed me that she was making something for Christian. They really do love each other. This morning they were singing,"I love you," back and forth at breakfast. They were eating doughnuts, but I actually think they were singing to one another. 

And now the washing machine is going, I've got my laundry sorted out so that I can truly plow through it, and the kitchen awaits. The night is still young for me, I'm afraid. And I can't even sleep in tomorrow, because have you heard...?

Tomorrow is Friday. This time, it's for real.