Little House in the Suburbs

When I was a little kid, I loved reading the Little House on the Prairie books. Even at a young age, I found myself enthralled with a world that was so different from my own. Their lives seemed so simple, so happy, so fun. I wanted to be a part of it. So much so that I wondered whether God had put me in the wrong century. I wanted to chop wood and bake bread and sew my own clothes.

Realistically, I know that if I went back to that period in history I would last about a day. And now that I’m a grown-up, I know better than to long for a place in history different from my own. I was born in the twentieth century and figure I was put in this time and place for a reason. But there are still days when I wish I was Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Last week, I got a little taste of what life would have been like in that time period. No, I wasn’t living in a little house on a barren, windswept plain. But, I was living without power and would for most of the day. It went out early in the morning as I was lying comfortably under our down comforter. The lights flashed and, just like that, our electricity went out. ‘No biggie,’ I thought to myself, ‘It will come back on shortly’. But, after about thirty minutes, it was apparent that the power wasn’t coming on anytime soon.

So at 6:00 in the morning, I scrambled to find a flashlight, which of course was missing from the drawer where it was supposed to be. Ever the resourceful one, my husband found a camping light and hung it from a ceiling fan. It cast a weird, eerie glow but it would have to do until the sun came up.

The second order of business; how were we going to make it through the day without heat?  Thankfully, the switch to our gas fireplace turned the fire on. Pretty soon, we had a warm and cozy spot to contemplate what kind of plans we could make for the day ahead.

We had no TV, I couldn’t do any of the chores on my list without electricity, so the kids and I lay in front of the fire and did something very unusual. We talked. Next, we had game time which didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. Connect Four was a hit for all of two minutes. Then we tried Operation which, even after we’d changed the batteries, didn’t work. Finally, we got out the cards and Jack and I played a viciously competitive game of Go Fish.

When the kids began to get restless, I bundled them up and sent them outside to play. Meanwhile, I tried to figure out how I was going to keep the food in the fridge and freezer from going bad. Buckets of snow seemed like a good way to go, but when I checked the fridge it was barely cool. So I went for option number two; put the fridge food in a Rubbermaid and the freezer goods in a cooler and set them both out in the snow. Worked like a charm. 

After lunch, which was a simple fair, we watched a movie in the car. Since we have a gas range, I was able to cook on the stovetop and made popcorn for a special treat. As the afternoon wore on, I kept hoping that the power would return. Unfortunately, when I listened to the radio, they announced that the power for some would not be turned back on until Saturday morning.

At that point, we were ready to get out of the house. We drove over to the local Godfather’s and commiserated with our fellow neighbors who had also lost power. Again, the reports there confirmed my fears. We would probably not have power for another day.

I headed home determined to make a not-so-good situation into a day of blessing. And, wouldn’t you know it, just as we were preparing a cozy little nest in front of the fireplace, the power came back on. The kids and I did a little happy dance. I turned up the furnace, and, that night, we were able to sleep all snuggled up in our own beds.

While I realize this experience was a far cry from a true little prairie house day, I couldn’t help but feel some kinship with those settlers of old who had none of the modern conveniences we have and seemed to live a full and happy life anyway. All in all, it was a good day. You might even say a great day. So much so, that the next time the power goes out, I’ll be ready, maybe even happy to go without it -  at least for a day. And if that day never comes, I can always make a trip to the basement and cut the power myself. Connect Four, anyone?

Overcoming Evil

Two things happened today. Two very important things. Two very different things. Late this afternoon, I went to share some Christmas spirit with the nursing home residents here in my small Nebraska community. I hadn’t wanted to go, even though I promised myself that I would visit there once a week, there was a part of me that just didn’t want to visit today. But I’m so glad I did because the second thing that happened today made me want to crawl into a little cave and never come out.  I received a phone call just as I was pulling out of the nursing home parking lot. That’s when I found out about the shooting. Another one. At an elementary school. What? Children, the innocents of our society, gunned down in a place that should be full of happiness and hope and sunshine – school. My first reaction? What is wrong with this country? Are we safe anywhere? Church, Home, School, Grocery store, Shopping mall?

Even as I write this tears are welling up in my eyes. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this awful thing has happened again. I can’t believe, don’t want to believe, that parents just like me have to face this nightmare - their child mercilessly killed at the hands of a stranger. They now face the first Christmas of many without their little ones, their babies, their loves.

I have to admit that when my husband told me, I wanted to crawl into my bed, cover my head and never come out. Never. This world is so dark, so evil, so scary sometimes. I just don’t want to face the reality that is playing across television screens everywhere tonight. Children killed in school. How much worse does it get than that?

Then, a memory and a bible verse pulled me out of the dark, made me remember something important, very important. It’s a short verse but it packs a powerful punch when you feel like you just can’t keep going in such a dark and scary world.

Romans 12:21 Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

 If there was ever such a thing as evil this horrific act was one.

Then, the memory. I thought back to that Christmas party. A simple thing really. Santa, some music, festive decorations, food and drinks. And me. This happy memory lived out just moments ago brought back into focus something that we as believers in Christ need to hold fast to. Even on the darkest of days.

Do not be overcome by evil but overcome evil with good.

I have two memories today. One good. One evil. And with these memories there comes a choice. Do I cower in fear, trembling, afraid of all the darkness surrounding us these days? Or do I choose to remember that I brought a smile to someone’s face when I offered them punch today. I made someone laugh when I told them a joke. I gave someone the gift of hope when I talked with them about the true meaning of Christmas. I cheered someone up just by smiling at them. It’s those memories I’m going to choose to keep at the forefront of my heart, thoughts and feelings today.

Jesus told us that we are the light of the world. Don’t be overcome by the evil all around you. Be God’s light. Shine in the places He has placed you. You’re there for a reason. Share Him. Share Jesus. It’s the only light than can overcome any darkness. Don’t be overcome by evil. Let your light shine in your little corner of the world. The people you share your light with may be cowering in a very dark corner of their own mind, heart or spirit. Bring them into the light. Let them know that even in this world there is hope.

deck the halls

Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la la la la la. Boy, that’s a lot of las. As I pondered these well-known words to this familiar tune I couldn’t help thinking about what “‘tis the season” really means.

Like ‘tis the season to be grumpy because your kids are bouncing off the walls.

Or ‘tis the season to be impatient in that long line at the store.

Or grouchy because you stayed up late making those special Christmas cookies.

Or testy because you’ve gone to four stores only to find that the gift you want for your child is sold out.

Or heartbroken watching, waiting as a loved one lies on their death bed.

Or disappointed because dog-gone-it you didn’t get the slippers you wanted from your husband who seems to screw that up every year.

Or worn out because of all the baking, and shopping, and wrapping and giving.

Or just plain tired, and, as you finish all the important things about Christmas that really didn’t make you happy, you wonder why you’re not more jolly. Why it seems that all the joy of Christmas has been sucked out of the season, leaving you feeling deflated, tired, angry, sad. ‘Tis the season to be jolly? Hmmmm, for many of us, not so much.

I thought about this season, this season of love, of giving, of cherishing and I thought to myself, ‘I could identify more with the grumpy, or tired, or busy fa la las. Really, is this what Christmas is truly all about?  Today, I was reflecting back on Thanksgiving and wondering why it is that we take two of the most important holidays, giving thanks to God and celebrating our Savior’s birth, and ruin them, absolutely ruin them by letting other stuff fill up our hearts, our souls, our lives. I can’t help but think that the Devil takes great pleasure in turning our hearts toward everything but the most important parts of these holidays.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Oh great another lecture concerning what this season should really be about – worshipping our Lord and Savior, Jesus.’ But you know what I think God wants even more than our worship or our accolades of praise?  I think he wants our attention, our affection, our thankful hearts- peaceful and quiet and filled with his love.

Remember the story of Mary and Martha? Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus learning from him while well intentioned Martha hurried around trying to prepare a meal for her Friend.  But if you read the story you’ll realize that what Jesus really wanted from Martha was her attention. He wanted to teach her. He wanted to give her some focus, some perspective. ‘Mary has chosen what is better,’ he told Martha, ‘and it will not be taken away from her.’

What are you choosing this Christmas? The things of this world – they won’t last, but the true reason for the season, Jesus, and his love for us, will. So if your heart is feeling a little empty, a little less jolly then you’d like, take a cue from Mary. Sit at Jesus feet and let him fill you with his love. Then, no matter how you deck the halls, you’ll be doing it with just the kind of heart you long for, the kind of heart you’re meant to have – a jolly one.

crazy christmas memories

My birthday was yesterday and for the first time ever I wasn’t really excited about celebrating it. In fact, I was kind of dreading it. The question I asked myself; why? Why am I not excited to turn thirty-nine? Why am I dreading this day so much? Where was the eagerness I felt as a kid when I would literally count down the days ‘til my birthday? 

I really didn’t come to any earth-shattering conclusions, but something did occur to me. This would be the first birthday I would be celebrating without Mom. And there was one little thing, just a minor thing that I would miss in particular. Each and every birthday, Mom would call me up and sing that special birthday song. It’s amazing how such a little thing came to mean so much.

In fact, the morning of my birthday, I thought, ‘Who’s going to sing "Happy Birthday" to me this year?’ I prayed a little prayer that somehow, someone would call me up. And God didn’t disappoint. No, it wasn’t Mom, but it was still pretty good. A dear aunt of mine called late afternoon and sang to me. Not only that, she left it on my voicemail. When I played the message back, tears began to roll down my cheeks and I started to cry. I realized in that moment how precious even the simplest of traditions can be.

It’s kind of like Christmas. I don’t know about you, but I have all kinds of special memories about this holiday and the traditions we celebrated year after year. If I listed all of the special things we did as a family to celebrate, I could type for hours. But I won’t bore you with the details. Okay, well, maybe just a few of them.

Let’s start with Christmas Eve. On that magical night, my family and I would pile into the car and drive to church where us kids performed our Sunday School Program. I remember that the church was always packed, and I was bursting with excitement when we performed in front of everyone. After the program, as we filed out, members of the congregation handed out white bags of candy and other goodies to all the kids. Then, it was back to our house to watch the “Sound of Music” while Mom finished preparing our meal. Soup was usually the main course - clam chowder and broccoli cheese. Yummy!

From my earliest memories I know that we opened presents on Christmas Day, but eventually us kids petitioned to open them on Christmas Eve. After enough pestering, my parents consented and a new tradition began. After presents were opened and exulted over, we all headed to bed anxiously awaiting Christmas morn when we would open presents from Santa. It always took me a while to settle in.  Sometimes after everyone was asleep, I would sneak into the living room to see if Santa had come. Since my parents had turned off all the lights and turning them on would have given me away, I had to settle for fingering the presents and trying to figure out which one was mine.

And Christmas Day meals. Who could forget those? Prime rib, twice-baked potatoes, the traditional strawberry jello salad, broccoli slaw. Oh, it was all so good and perfect and right. And as I write this, I have to admit that part of me is sad that those traditions are a thing of the past.

But, as my dear, sweet husband reminded me the other day, I have a new family, now; two beautiful children who are excited and anxious for Christmas to come and counting down the days ‘til Santa visits our house. And I guess I’m realizing that it’s time to move into the future. While walking down memory lane can be fun, there comes a time when it’s important to create new memories –to begin new traditions that my family will cherish for years to come.

more than just a crazy dream

I have been thinking about Mom a lot today. We are approaching one year since she passed away. In the blog entry I wrote shortly after she died, I mentioned her words of love to me, “I’ll always love you. Never forget that.” When I want to call her to share something exciting, interesting, or difficult the part of me that so looked forward to those chats hurts. Today, I was running errands and at my daughter’s request popped in a Christmas CD. Listening to it, my mind traveled back to what was happening a year ago at this time when Mom was on hospice. And wham. The waterworks started. Losing Mom in the midst of the Christmas season was hard. No way around that.

And even though it hurts to write this entry, I’d like to share some valuable lessons that I’ve learned over the past year. A few months ago when the grief was still quite fresh, I found myself fixating on all the bad stuff. How much pain Mom had been in. How quickly she went downhill after we discovered her kidney was failing. The sadness I felt over all of her struggles was burdensome. It consumed me. I could, if I had let myself, wallow in the pain and misery that were mine throughout the last several months of Mom’s life.

But two things occurred to me. Number one, my mother would be so mad if she knew that I was dwelling on all the pain she endured. I can hear her tell me, “Now don’t be silly. I’m in heaven now. There’s nothing to cry about.” Mom never did like to draw attention to her pain, and I imagine she’d be less tolerant of it even now.

Number two, Mom’s experiencing the glories of heaven. All the pain she endured all those years is a blip on the radar screen in comparison with eternity. So now, I try to be happy and think about all the good memories we had as a family. I find that the grief that pierces my heart doesn’t cut quite as deeply when I let go of the pain and focus on the joy of life.

Thirdly, I was reminded that God did care about our pain - that his heart grieved for me and my family. Shortly before Mom died, God gave us a gift we could hold close to our hearts. A gift that would help ease our pain in the coming days, weeks, months and years. The gift He gave was a glimpse of the unseen realities happening all around us, the behind-the-scenes action, as He pulled back the curtains of Paradise and let us have a peek inside.

It happened in a dream that my sister-in-law, JoDee, had one night shortly before Mom passed away. Because we no longer left Mom alone at night, JoDee was spending the night in Mom’s apartment. In her dream my sister-in-law vividly remembers having a couple of “visitors”. The first “visitor” walked right through the front door. Being more surprised than alarmed, JoDee noticed that he was replacing a light bulb and asked, “What are you doing?” His response was straight and to the point, “I’m changing the light bulb. I need to light the way.”

A few moments later another “visitor” came in through a corner of the apartment. Again, JoDee was bemused by this visit thinking to herself, ‘I didn’t know there was a door in that corner of the apartment’. This visitor said nothing to JoDee, she simply gave a nod and a smile as she walked past her. Then the visitor walked up to gaze into my mothers’s room. JoDee watched this visitor smile as she looked at Mom, not saying a word. In that moment, JoDee woke up and heard Mom struggle and went quickly to her bedside.

Now, you could chalk this all up to a fluke, a simple dream and nothing more. But I’d like to believe that JoDee wasn’t just experiencing a dream that night but was permitted to see the unseen – what was happening all around her that couldn’t be observed with human eyes.

Several days later when I came into town, JoDee was compelled to share that dream with me. Later on, she shared with me that there are only three dreams she’s ever remembered and the two she had that night were part of those recollections. I think for my whole life I will remember these dreams. I will remember them as vividly as if they were my own. And even now, the recollection of them makes me smile; to know that someone was lighting the way for Mom, that they were preparing to bring her home.

I’ve only shared that dream with a handful of people. But the memory of it gives me such hope that I wanted to share it with all of you. Call it an early Christmas present, a gift or whatever you want. If you’re experiencing heartache like my family and I suffered last Christmas, I hope that in some small way this dream gives you comfort, hope and joy, too.

Hurry up, Patience

Hurry up, patience, you’re not moving fast enough. Kind of a weird way to start a blog entry, but is there more than a grain of truth in what I wrote? In today’s crazy, fast paced world it’s hard to be patient. We want patience to hurry up - to get out of our way because we have things to do, places to go and people to see.

Whether we’re standing in a grocery line behind a woman with dozens of coupons and a long list of price matches, or going through the drive thru at our favorite fast food restaurant and it’s taking more than 5 minutes (gasp), we don’t want to be patient. We don’t want to wait. So what shall we call it - impatience, the tyranny of the urgent ? I think C.S. Lewis nailed it when he said this, “If there’s a spirit of hell, it’s the spirit of distraction.”

 

I blame technology – and all of the devices that distract us day in and day out. The ones that allow us to have a disjointed conversation with a facebook friend we don’t really know, rather than a real one with the person across the table from us. And a question arises - is all this new technology - these urgent mobile device and pads and whatever else that's out there, are they really serving us or are we simply bowing down to the god of the immediate – instant gratification. I guess I’m not saying that all technology is wrong. In and of themselves these devices can’t do anything. No, it’s not the devices that give us so much trouble it’s what we do with them.

Do some soul-searching and ask yourself a few questions. Are these devices a distraction at your family’s dinner table? Do you find yourself checking your phone every two minutes to get the latest updates, or weather reports, or facebook posts? Maybe, just maybe, you might want to put that mobile device down during dinnertime. Better yet, turn it off for the evening. Be. Just be. Be with the ones you love - not distractedly but fully engaged in whatever conversation you’re having.

Set yourself free from the tyranny of the urgent. Make time for the people that really matter in your life. Remember this. Your phone may give you the latest facebook updates, the ability to watch funny u-tube videos or any other number of wonderful distractions, but it won’t give you a hug and a kiss at the end of the day or tell you it loves you.  That’s a family thing  - and family should always come before phones.

A Prayer for Living as Good Citizens to God’s Glory

A Prayer for Living as Good Citizens to God’s Glory

Posted By Scotty Smith On November 7, 2012 @ 6:20 am In Prayer | 3 Comments

Dear friends, I urge you, as aliens and strangers in the world, to abstain from sinful desires, which war against your soul. Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.

 

Submit yourselves for the Lord’s sake to every authority instituted among men: whether to the king, as the supreme authority, or to governors, who are sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to commend those who do right. For it is God’s will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish men. Live as free men, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as servants of God. Show proper respect to everyone: Love the brotherhood of believers, fear God, honor the king. 1 Pet 2:11-17

Dear heavenly Father, it’s the morning after we Americans have cast our votes. A president, along with many other public officials, have been elected, or re-elected. For some of us, there is great elation and relief, for others, there is tremendous disappointment, even despair.

 

For all of us, there is a need to hear from you—to still our hearts and know that you alone are God; to affirm that you are no less sovereign this morning that you were before the polls closed yesterday afternoon; to remember that your purposes will stand, your kingdom will come, your glory, one Day, will cover the earth as the waters cover the sea.

 

Indeed, Father, our confidence is not in horses, chariots or men; nor in political parties, sitting presidents or supreme court justices; nor in the Dow Jones average, lower taxes, or bigger barns; nor in public policy or in private enterprise. Our hope and trust are in you.

 

In this Scripture, we hear you say, and we affirm, that you’ve called us to live good lives among our neighbors and in our culture—to be commendable citizens, not disengaged cynics; for your sake, to submit to authorities, governors and the king (president), for they are your providential servants (Rom. 13:1); to use our freedom in Christ “to silence the ignorant talk of foolish people,” not to add more godless chatter to the public conversation; to live respectfully of all people, not resentfully of any. By the power of the gospel, help us to do so.

 

Lastly, Father, may we fear you 1000 times more than we are either excited this morning or are quite disappointed by the outcome of the election. You alone are God; you are in the heavens and you do whatever pleases you. As your servants, may we prove the wonders of Jesus’ love this very day, and tomorrow, and the next, far as the curse is found. So very Amen we pray, in the exalted and triumphant name of Jesus.

those crazy teachers

I’m sitting here thinking that I have absolutely nothing to write about today. So we’ll see what actually comes of this. I could write about love and marriage but I think I covered that last week. There’s always the grace versus law topic, but that doesn’t quite seem right either. Maybe it’s time to write about something that is near and dear to my heart – teaching.

I was a teacher for eight and a half years. One and a half years were spent substitute teaching which, in and of itself, could be a novel. Five years were spent teaching 3^rd grade (first at a catholic school, then at a public school). Lastly, I became a teacher in a multi-grade setting.

To say that teaching is near and dear to my heart doesn’t adequately describe how much those years meant to me. I was single for six and a half of those years and, for all intents and purposes, those kids were my kids. The last two years I taught I was no longer Miss Kluck, I was Mrs. Meyer. While my husband and I had no kids, my heart was a bit more divided. I was still very dedicated to my career, but I was also a wife and that needed to be a priority, too.

Let me take a moment to say this to all my friends who are teachers, I have never had to raise kids as a full-time teacher and to those of you who do, I have the utmost respect for you. Not only do you raise your own children but, year after year, you nurture and care for others’ kids as well – dozens and dozens who pass through your classroom doors every fall.

Many memories from my teaching years are positive and fill me with a sense of accomplishment. But there are other memories that aren’t quite as happy; memories that have kept me from returning to a profession that I was once so passionate about. It may seem to you like a sob story, but I hope that in sharing my experiences those of you who send your kids to school every day have a bit more respect and understanding for just how difficult a teacher’s job is.  

In my early years as a teacher, I had this zest and enthusiasm for my job. I considered it a calling more than a career. Teaching was one of the most important things I did in my life and I took that calling very seriously. So what happened you might ask? If I was so dedicated, so devoted all those years why did I make the decision not to return.

Two words are what it really boils down to  - parents and administrators. Yup, you read it correctly -  people. It wasn’t the long hours, the late nights, or the paltry salary that drove me away- it was the people. Specifically, the ones who should have had my back. For that matter the ones who should have every teacher’s back.

I taught for several years under an administration that was less than supportive. In fact, the lack of respect for teachers in this building was appalling. One of the administrators felt that students who came to her office just needed unconditional love. To her this meant that the kids should be able to fool around on the computer, eat candy, and play games with her.  Newsflash – if kids aren’t punished when they go to the administrator’s office, what reason do they have to behave in the classroom? In fact, wouldn’t some want to take advantage of the situation and act out in the hopes that they would be sent to the office? After all, why spend time in a classroom learning math facts when you know there’s a bag of licorice waiting for you when you go to the office. For a long time, I thought it was my fault that certain students didn’t behave for me, but when I found out what their “punishment” was, I had a lightbulb moment.

The second category of people I struggled with was parents. Specifically, parents who wanted to swoop in and save their child from any and all types of consequences. While I was still teaching, we had a name for those people – helicopter parents; the ones who were there to defend their child rather than respect the authority of their child’s teacher. One example makes my blood boil even to this day.

I had sent a worksheet home with a student because it was messy and needed to be redone. Imagine my surprise when this paper came back the next day with a note written on it. Right next to the sentence, “Needs to be redone,” the father wrote another note, “I disagree”.  Hmmm, you’re really going to quarrel with me in front of your child. Why does your child need to behave in the classroom if they know that Mom or Dad are going to be there to bail them out should any trouble arise?

I have to apologize because I broke my promise. I did get on a soapbox and share my sob story. But the real reason I wrote this entry was to give some small examples of how difficult a job teaching is. In spite of the challenges they face, most teachers will tell you this. To them teaching isn’t about the administrators, nor is it about the parents. It’s about the kids. They're the reason teachers come back year after year.

You see, whether or not you have their back, most teachers have yours. They strive to achieve the same goal you have for your child -  teaching them to be productive, caring, and responsible citizens. Next time you have an issue with your child’s teacher go to them, talk to them, figure out how you can work together to do what’s truly best for your child. And, remembering the difficult job they have, show them some appreciation. Send flowers or a simple thank you card. Most importantly, give your child’s teacher the gift of respect. They work hard day in and day out cramming twelve months of work into nine. Your gift of respect will go a long way.  Oh, and throw in a box of chocolates. Those will go a long way, too.

Love and Marriage

Just got back from a wedding which the whole family attended. At first, we were reluctant to take the kids along, but the bride had specifically requested that we bring them. Obviously, she had no idea how naughty our kids can be in any type of church situation. But, because she was the bride, we obliged.

I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the kids were very good for most of the service. Towards the end though there came the dreaded, yet inevitable question “Is it over yet?” And countless times we had to pretend it was “nearly” over so they would hold it together for just a “few more minutes”. Yea, good thing God’s not vengeful. If He was we would surely have been blasted for the number of times we lied about the service being “almost over”. We could use a few new lies to pacify our children. Our old-stand-bys are getting boring. You know the ones, “It’s just about over.” “Be patient a little longer” or “After this song.” My personal favorite is, “If you can sit still just awhile longer, you’ll get to have some cake.” I mean, who can’t be appeased by the promise of cake.

Reception time, now that was a different story. The kids were all over that. After all what’s not to love about a wedding reception; Hors d'oeuvres, drinks, punch, cake, party favors. This was the kids’ first experience of a wedding reception and they were in heaven. My daughter stood in the aisle between tables and danced and danced. There wasn’t any music but that didn’t bother Katie. She had a little ribbon and she was spinning around like a tiny ballerina. So cute. The highlight for her was making a new friend – a girl who was a whole year older than she was. When I walked them both back to the food table, I asked Katie if she needed anything. When she said “No,” I told her that I was going to sit back down. That’s when her new friend piped up, “It’s okay I can take care of her.” Yea, I’m sure you can you pint-sized little cutie.

Jack, for his part, was playing it cool. All dressed up in his purple and white plaid shirt, he was scoping out the scene, checking out all the ladies, just hanging. He did get a little excited when his dad allowed him to “ding” the glass to make the bride and groom kiss. When they actually did kiss, his eyes got really big. He couldn’t believe that they would smooch just because he dinged his fork on a glass. Of course, we had to cut him off after the fourth or fifth time of dinging. The bride and groom thanked us profusely.

I’m pretty sure Katie licked the frosting off the cake when no one was looking, and when Jack started to get a little too friendly with the ladies, we decided it was time to go home. No dance party for the Meyers that night. But in all, a good time was had by everyone. 

On the way home, I started thinking about something. Sitting in the ceremony when they got to the vows, my hubby and I had cuddled up a bit closer and held hands. Watching the bride and groom made us remember the days when we were giddy in love. And here we are ten years later when it’s a bit harder to capture the magic of being a newlywed.

I guess what I walked away from the wedding with was a question; Where does all the love go after the ceremony? When does your spouse become just another being in the house? It’s kind of easy to forgo the romance when you’re up to your armpits in laundry, spinning circles in the kitchen, running interception on tiny warriors who are tackling each other.

Let’s face it. Life is crazy. And the last thing you want to do when you get home from work is paste a smile on your face and try to be nice to one more person. It’s a chore to please people all day, be polite, put on a happy face. So when you get home, you just want to be real. Family’s just family. We can be genuine with them, right? Honest. Downright rude if we want to be. I have a good friend who calls it “treating each other like family.” Don’t know if you get the drift, but there’s a lot of truth to that statement. How’s that saying go, “You always hurt the ones you love.” Maybe it should be, “You always hurt the ones you pretend to love, when the ones you’re really giving your best to don’t even live under your roof”.

The next time you’re tempted to treat your spouse like family, go back to your vows - the ones when you said you were in it for keeps. Remind yourself why you married the person who sits across from you at the kitchen table. Do something spontaneous for them. Remember that marriage is a gift. Try to love them a little bit better and stop treating them like just “plain old family”.

tubthumping

Back in the day, when life was pretty tough there was a song that was popular that was sort of inspirational for me. “Tubthumping”, by chumbawamba. Recognize it? Just in case you don’t, I’ll give you a hint. It’s also known as the “I get knocked down” song. But when I took a look at the lyrics this morning, I had to laugh as I discovered that the song is really about a drunken splurge or fest. Doesn’t matter. The chorus was all I needed to hear. “I get knocked down but I get up again,” became my mantra through those difficult days. The truth is, I did feel as though I was getting “knocked down” on all sides as I’m sure many of you have felt before. How’s that saying go? Trouble always comes in threes, or when it rains it pours. They really seem true. But maybe there’s a reason for that.

As I’m typing this, I’m thinking of the story of Job. You know the guy. The man of complete integrity, blameless, one who feared God and stayed away from evil. God was proud of him. He loved him. So what did he do? Throw a royal reception for him? Bless him with gifts galore? Honor him before the world? Nope, none of the above. In fact, what happened next might completely blow your mind. God allowed the rug to be pulled out from beneath Job’s feet and he lost everything. Everything.  What’s so puzzling about this is that it seems so inconsistent with how God felt about Job.

Who convinces God to test Job, to allow horrible things to happen in his life? None other than the Accuser, Satan. Perhaps the most interesting detail about this story is what happens behind the curtain, in the throne room of God. The very first chapter of Job describes how the angels are presenting themselves before the Lord. And not one to be left out, Satan shows up, too. When God asks him what he’s been doing, Satan tells God that he’s been roaming throughout the world watching everything that is going on.

 What happens next is the golden part of this story, God has something to brag about – his servant, his son, Job. As God is boasting about Job, Satan is concocting a plan; one that will screw up Job’s world – turn it upside down. He asks God for permission to take everything away from Job. In fact, he almost taunts God with this challenge. “Take away everything [Job] has, and he will surely curse you to your face!” (Job 1:11)

So God allows the test, and Satan greedily and hungrily gets to work. The first item on his agenda is to take away Job’s livestock and farmhands. Next, come the sheep and shepherds. Then Job’s camels and servants. Last, but not least, Satan hits Job with a gut wrenching punch by killing all of his sons and daughters. And that’s not even the worst part. The real kicker is that all of this happens on the same day, within a matter of hours. After he’s received all of this news, Job does what God expected him to, what God hoped he would do. He humbles himself before the One who has given him everything. Rather than curse God, Job accepts this test. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away he says.

Still, Satan isn’t satisfied. As if he hasn’t already done enough, he arrives in the throne room of God with a new challenge. Strike Job physically, Satan sneers and, “he will surely curse you to your face” (Genesis 2:4). God allows it and Job is stricken with a terrible case of boils from head to toe. At this point, even Job’s wife tries to persuade him to curse God and die. But Job stands firm and in all of what occurs he maintains his integrity saying, “Shall we accept only good things from the hand of God and never anything bad?”

Seems that Job went through a lot, too much maybe. Maybe you feel this way – that God has dealt you one too many blows. You wouldn’t be the first person to think that, nor will you be the last. It is a tough world. Bad things happen. Bad things happen to good people. And it’s true in the case of Job. He was a good man; a man of complete integrity. So, why the attacks? Why did God allow Job to suffer so much?

Wish there was an easy answer to that question, but the truth is there’s not. But I think it’s important to remember a few things. God wasn’t displeased with Job. He wasn’t punishing him. He loved Job. He was proud of him. The next time you face a trial, a knock-down punch, remember Job. Take a peek behind the curtain of heaven and read once again this unfolding and fascinating story; the story of a man who lost everything. Think about how proud God was of him. Maybe God isn’t cursing you. Maybe He’s testing you. Maybe He’s proud of you too and wants to show you off, not only to the Accuser, but to the rest of the world as well.

2 Corinthians 4: 8-10 We are hard pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed and broken. We are perplexed, but we don’t give up and quit. We are hunted down, but God never abandons us. We get knocked down, but we get up again and keep going.  (NLT)

a simple cinquain

I wrote this four or five years ago when I was playing around with different types of poetry. It's pretty short which is a change for me, but there is a deeper meaning in there if you take time to read it. Hope that on some level it speaks to you about the changes in life and how they affect us. 

 

 

Gold Leaves

Crackling Brightly

Dancing in the sunshine

Gusts of wind

Playfully tease them

I laugh.

 

Gold Leaves

Perch precarious

Hanging by golden threads

A sharp stinging wind snaps them off

I shudder.

 

Gold Leaves

Fluttering down

Floating down around me

A parade of gold confetti

I smile.

 

Gold leaves

Shuffling along

Crunching beneath my toes

All their glory now is fading

I sigh. 

good cop, bad cop

You know what I’ve been thinking about for a while? Don’t you just love it when I start an entry that way? Lately, I’ve been contemplating the mysteries of God. Well, not really but I have been contemplating this -  why it’s so easy to think of God as the bad guy, the one who lives upstairs and is a merciless task master - the one who’s only out to catch us when we do bad stuff. In other words, why is it so easy to focus on the wrath of God rather than his amazing love?

I’ll cut to the chase here. I fully admit that while I know that God loves me, that he sent His Son to save me from myself, and even now makes his home in my heart, I don’t really get the love of God. For me it’s easier to focus on the laws. Let me give you an example. This is a long passage to write, let alone read, but bear with me, will ya, ‘cause I want to make a point here.

Isaiah 61:1 – 3 The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and to provide for those who grieve in Zion – to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of Praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.

Whew! Thanks for hanging in there. My question for you is this. In this passage how many times is there any kind of reference to God’s judgment? Once. And how many times of his love and redemption? Nine. That’s nine times that God makes a promise to heal the brokenness of humanity and only once that the word judgment pops up. But you know what verse I seem to fixate on the most; the judgment one – the day of vengeance of our God. And I’m wondering, is it just me, or is fixating on God as the bad guy more of a human nature thing?

The thought occurs to me even as I type this that there’s a reason why it’s so easy to make God out to be the bad guy in this mess of life. It’s the lie that’s easiest to believe. The Liar (Satan) wants us to view God in that way. It makes his job a whole lot easier. If we don’t get his love for us then why would we ever want to draw near to him? Are we all missing out on the best that God has to offer – his love. Nine times up there in that long passage God affirms his love for humanity and only once is there a reference to his judgment.

But still what’s the point. Well, to be honest I’m not sure. But here’s a thought. God’s our Father - the one who made us. He’s our redeemer the one who saved us. And even now his Spirit dwells in us moving us ever closer to Him. Were we to view the bible from the lens of God’s love for us it would make a difference in our lives – a huge difference. Don’t believe me? I’ll close with another passage, and let you decide for yourself how important it is to really get God’s love for us. Of all the things the Apostle Paul could have prayed for his friends in Ephesus; stronger faith, more devotion to Christ, a fervent prayer life, a more generous spirit - of all those things, this is what he prayed.

Ephesians 3:14 – 18 I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his spirit . . . so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have the power . . . to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge.

It’s easy to make God out to be the bad guy. But it’s so important to know him as the God who’s for us – the one who loves us, the one who sacrificed his only Son to bring us back to himself. Stop focusing on the strict figurehead that we assume is God. Let your roots sink down deep into the soil of a marvelous love – the one God has for you.  

The Sun is Following Me

For the past week or so my daughter has been amazed and delighted by the fact that the sun is “following her”. At first I thought it was so cute and couldn’t help but smile at my amazingly, adorable daughter. Later on in the week I began to think about what she was saying and realized that my daughter could be a little philosopher. The sun is following her. Why, yes it is. And, come to think of it, the sun is following me, too.

I must confess something here. Sometimes I doubt. Yes, you read it correctly, I doubt. Lately, these doubts have centered around the idea of what eternity will be like. In the last year or so I’ve contemplated what it will be like to see God in heaven. After all, I’ll be only one of hundreds of thousands who may be entering the pearly gates on the exact same day, and possibly, well probably, some will be entering at the exact same time.

Sobering thought when those of us who are believers think about running to God’s throne and being greeted with the best bear hug ever. So, how exactly will that work? If there are thousands of us dying at the same time, how in the world are we all going to fit on his lap?

I’ve confessed before that I am no theologian. But, my tiny little theologian may be on to something. The sun follows her. Doesn’t matter who else it shines on, or even on how many billions of people it is shining on at the same moment. The sun shines on her. It follows her. It’s her sun. When I heard her make this comment for the third time in a week, it reminded me of a verse in Revelation.

Revelation 21:23 And the city has no need of sun or moon, for the glory of God illuminates the city, and the Lamb is its light.  (NLT)

I’ve heard this verse in the past and felt perplexed. What did it mean  when it said the Lord will be its sun? I always thought it meant that God is so radiant we won’t need any other lights in heaven. But the profound statement from my daughter made me think about it a little differently. Maybe being in heaven is a little like being in the sun. It doesn’t matter how many billions of people are there. For each one, God shines on them, and it doesn’t in any way make it less true that he's shining on others at the same time.

Do you get what I’m saying? I guess it could be looked at a little differently. Have you ever wondered how God dwells in each of our hearts at the same time? How can God’s Spirit live inside of me and the millions of others who call Christ, Savior and Lord? While I can’t explain it, I can testify to it. I know that God’s Spirit lives in me and just because he dwells in others hearts at the same time doesn’t take away from the fact that he loves me, he fills me, he follows me.

So maybe heaven is like that in a sense but on a more physical level. If God can dwell in our hearts spiritually speaking in this world who’s to say that he can’t do something like that in a more “physical” way in heaven. Somehow God being God, I have to believe that he has no limits. So, maybe I don’t understand what it will be like to arrive in heaven, nor how I’m going to get “my turn” to sit on God’s lap. Guess some things have to be accepted by faith. But my little girl taught me something this week. When it comes to the sun, and to God, all things are possible.

when your kid's the bully

Well, I found a worthy topic to write about for this week’s entry. Unfortunately, it’s one that, as a mother, causes me great pain. My kid, the bully. Never thought I’d have to say or write that. My kid, my sweet angelic boy, who looks me in the eye and melts my heart when he says, “I love you mommy.” Yea, that kid. What heartbreak I’m experiencing tonight. My kid was bullying, picking on someone because he could, and because he thought it was funny.

Earlier in the day, he, my daughter, and another friend were playing outside. I had asked them to stay in our yard. However, when I went to check on them a few minutes later, I saw them running down the sidewalk. Not thinking too much about it, I called them back and reminded them that they were to play in our yard only. A few moments later, I caught them running down the sidewalk again. But this time I noticed something else, a little boy further down the sidewalk was running away from my three. When I called this little guy over I asked if anything was wrong. Of course, my children told me that this boy was bugging them. Naturally, as a mom I like to believe that my children are telling the truth so I asked the little guy if he was doing anything to bother them. He replied no and walked away.

A few hours later, after we’d had supper, my son asked me to go on a bike ride with him. As we were riding around the neighborhood, the incident from that afternoon popped into my head. For some reason, I began asking questions about it. I had a sneaking suspicion that all wasn’t as it had seemed to be; that I hadn’t been told the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I won’t go into detail about what happened, but after my son shared the real story, it became all too apparent that he had bullied this other child. Not only that, but my daughter was laughing right along with them.

Bullying. We talk about it a lot these days. To the point that, in our household, we have zero tolerance for it. Our kids know that it is unacceptable to bully. As a child, my husband was picked on for his size, so he knows firsthand what it feels like. I, on the other hand, was the “cool kid” -  never in danger of being bullied. Well, cool not so much, but it didn’t hurt that I went to a Christian school. We were all pretty close and saw no need to pick on, oh, wait a minute. Yea, I forgot about that one - the kid in our school who dressed like Michael Jackson, silver glove and all. Yea, we made fun of him and even if I wasn’t the one taunting, I was just as bad, I was laughing. Other than that we were pretty good though, we really, oh wait, there was that other time. The time the token “fat kid” in the class fell off the stage at our spring production. Yea, we got a lot of laughs out of that one too.

I guess I don’t have to look too far when it comes to this issue of bullying. I can take a good long look in the mirror and realize that I’m as guilty as the rest. I’ve been there. I’ve done that. I’ve laughed at someone’s pain - at someone’s shame. I’m thinking about those times in my life when I’ve had the opportunity to stick up for someone who was being bullied and I didn’t. And as I write this, I’m tearing up because when I had to face this boy’s mother and tell her what had happened, I saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. She felt pain for her little one, and I felt heartache, because my son had caused this pain.

Tonight, both our kids have gone to bed early. They are being punished, and we’re hoping that from this point on they’ll remember that it’s not only wrong to bully someone else, it’s wrong to laugh at it, and do nothing to help the person who’s getting picked on.

I guess I’ll end with a bible verse because it seems to be the appropriate thing to do. When I looked through the bible however, the word bully was nowhere to be found. But I think one of the verses I did find applies pretty well to this or any other kind of bullying situation.  

Psalm 41:1 Blessed is the one who has regard for the weak; the Lord delivers him in times of trouble.

Enough said.

September 11, 2001

This was a piece I wrote shortly after the tragedy of 9/11. It came from my personal struggle with the age-old problem - why does a good God allow such things to happen? While I have no immediate answers to that, there are two verses that intrigue me when it comes to this question that seems to have no answer. 

Lamentations 3:32-33  Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men.

 

9-11

By Nici S. Meyer

 

The unbelievable happens

The unshakable suddenly becomes shakable,

And we are left wondering, questioning,

Why, how,

How could this happen?

 

A nation mourns and

a people gather together

to sift throught the ashes,

To make sense of the madness

And to question once again,

Why and how

How could this happen?

 

In the midst of the rubble,

Remnants of memos and

faxes of the day’s business are buried.

 

In the places where important business

And international affairs

Were moments ago being carried out,

Important business is now

Reduced to dust and ashes .

 

Human lives are buried here now.

In light of this, faxes and memos

Don’t seem so important anymore.

And still a nation mourns asking

why and how

how could this happen?

 

We are left with wounded hearts

And crushed spirits.

We lift our eyes to the heavens, seeking answers,

Mourning the loss that echoes across

the centuries:

Loss of human life,

Loss of certainty,

Loss of peace,

Loss of Paradise and a world without evil.

 

For the first time in a long time,

We realize as a nation that we are not unshakable,

We are not immovable;

That we truly are frail and vulnerable,

Because we are human.

In that vulnerability, we ask

Why, how, how could this happen?

 

Who or what was the cause of this unspeakable act?

Could one being alone have masterminded,

Plotted and schemed

To bring about this destruction,

This terror, this evil?

 

Evil is not prejudiced.

It does not dwell in the hearts

Of only one people,

Nation, culture, or creed.

It dwells in the hearts of us all.

 

Our own hearts condemn us when

We turn our mourning and sorrow

Into an excuse for bitterness and

Build up walls of hatred,

Rather than learning how to love,

How to forgive.

 

Still, the age old question rings out.

How could God, allow this to happen?

where was He?

 

Our God is not a God of the past.

He is right here, right now.

 

Perhaps, could we climb to the highest heavens today,

We would stand with him in his Sanctuary

And witness tears of

Anguish rolling down his cheeks.

Tears of grief, tears of emotion,

Tears of a parent,

Mourning this fallen and sinful world,

In which evil sometimes

Appears to be the conquering hero.

 

But evil is not the conquering hero.

Our conquering hero is Jesus Christ, himself.

God’s Son, sent to suffer and

Die for the evil that has dwelt

In every single human heart,

Except his own.

 

His heart’s blood was

Spilled out for our own tainted blood.

He was the world’s original blood donor,

And by his wounds we are healed.

 

His resurrection assures us of our salvation and

HIS VICTORY

RINGS OUT ON EVEN

THE DARKEST OF DAYS,

IN EVEN THE DARKEST OF PLACES.

 

So we can set our questions,

Our anxieties, and even our fears aside

And we can say with assurance,

Death is swallowed up in victory.

O death, where is your victory.

O death, where is your sting?