I have a few checks for my speech that I like to employ. The problem is I have been too slack. Be vigilant. Be sober. Satan prowls about seeking whom he may devour. What better way to be destroyed or destroy others than to let the guard down on our speech. Be careful if you bite and devour one another, soon you will be consumed by each other. What have I done?
So because there is always another chance with God, again I pray that my speech will always be full of grace.
So, back to the checks.
First, if I am saying something about a person, would I use the same words and tone of voice if he were standing beside me. Sometimes what I am saying is okay, but I would say it more gently if I was talking to the person I was talking about. I use to think I made this up, but recently I was reading a book by Max Lucado and he mentioned it. Probably I got the idea from him.
Second, if there is something I really want to tell someone about myself -- Don't say it! Although exceptions should be made because this is partly how people become closer friends. But will what I say help the other person? Am I the star of the story?
And finally, what people are saying to you, they will be saying about you. If they tell others' secrets, they will probably tell yours. If they complain about others, they will probably complain about you.
The power of death or life is in my tongue. I'd much rather spread life!
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Have you ever had the misfortune of hearing, "I'm not strong like you" or "I would break under such grief"? Haven't we all thought those things about someone? Maybe not, maybe it's just me that is weak.
I remember when our Pastor and his wife's baby was stillborn. I remember thinking that would be one of the worst things -- to go through 9 months of pregnancy and even labor for a dead child. I am not strong. My faith is small and weak. I rely on myself much too often. Then Ian died and I discovered that God really does provide the grace for every trial.
Another friend thought one of the hardest things would be to raise a handicapped child. Then God gave them a handicapped son. They discover day by day that God really is sufficient.
I use to think how I would just collapse if I lost my husband. Now that my brother has died and I see how God provides what my sister-in-law needs, even through her grief, I know that minute by minute, I would trudge forward. Fear slowly dissolves.
Although loss is such a pure grief, sin's grief is shame. Can I endure that? Unfortunately, I have experienced that as well. Crushing, but yes, even for that God's grace is sufficient.
God's grace is sufficient. It can sound so trite. Like saying war is awful. From me it would sound flippant, but you would believe if you heard it from a soldier who has crawled through stinking trenches, ran across a dark field under enemy fire, survived crushed bones and shrapnel, or watched his best friend painfully die. His words may sound the same, but they would have a world of difference behind them. When I say God is sufficient, I wish I could convey the world of questions, of tears, of fighting, and yes of peace that is behind them.
So what does strength look like? On Wednesday my husband and I drove over a bridge leading to the south side of town. We were surprised to see an ambulance and police cars parked at both ends and wondered if there had been an accident. Then I gasped as we saw him. A young man sitting off below the edge with a rope around his neck. What pain brought him to this point? What hopelessness? My heart ached for him. We prayed for his life. This world is so full of pain. Does strength mean we do not acknowledge that we are hurting? Does it mean we cannot cry? Does it mean we have to continue to take care of responsibilities? Perhaps in our weakness, strength is just hope. Hope not to end our lives because we believe that even in the midst of our agony God still has a plan and a future for us. Perhaps strength is just faith. Faith that He is still good and He still loves me. The boy's life was saved, but will he find faith and hope -- the strength to go on. Will he find that God's grace is sufficient?
I remember when our Pastor and his wife's baby was stillborn. I remember thinking that would be one of the worst things -- to go through 9 months of pregnancy and even labor for a dead child. I am not strong. My faith is small and weak. I rely on myself much too often. Then Ian died and I discovered that God really does provide the grace for every trial.
Another friend thought one of the hardest things would be to raise a handicapped child. Then God gave them a handicapped son. They discover day by day that God really is sufficient.
I use to think how I would just collapse if I lost my husband. Now that my brother has died and I see how God provides what my sister-in-law needs, even through her grief, I know that minute by minute, I would trudge forward. Fear slowly dissolves.
Although loss is such a pure grief, sin's grief is shame. Can I endure that? Unfortunately, I have experienced that as well. Crushing, but yes, even for that God's grace is sufficient.
God's grace is sufficient. It can sound so trite. Like saying war is awful. From me it would sound flippant, but you would believe if you heard it from a soldier who has crawled through stinking trenches, ran across a dark field under enemy fire, survived crushed bones and shrapnel, or watched his best friend painfully die. His words may sound the same, but they would have a world of difference behind them. When I say God is sufficient, I wish I could convey the world of questions, of tears, of fighting, and yes of peace that is behind them.
So what does strength look like? On Wednesday my husband and I drove over a bridge leading to the south side of town. We were surprised to see an ambulance and police cars parked at both ends and wondered if there had been an accident. Then I gasped as we saw him. A young man sitting off below the edge with a rope around his neck. What pain brought him to this point? What hopelessness? My heart ached for him. We prayed for his life. This world is so full of pain. Does strength mean we do not acknowledge that we are hurting? Does it mean we cannot cry? Does it mean we have to continue to take care of responsibilities? Perhaps in our weakness, strength is just hope. Hope not to end our lives because we believe that even in the midst of our agony God still has a plan and a future for us. Perhaps strength is just faith. Faith that He is still good and He still loves me. The boy's life was saved, but will he find faith and hope -- the strength to go on. Will he find that God's grace is sufficient?
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Practice, Practice, Then Practice Again
At times I have been amazed at the tactless or blunt things that an elderly person has said. Just to clarify, this is not common to all. I wonder if I will be like that when I am older. I've been wondering what makes people say things. Were they always like that? Is it just part of becoming older? Do they forget what it was like to be in a younger person's position? Or maybe they just are not as encumbered by social pressures? They feel no need to be cautiously polite? Perhaps that's a good thing.
But then I think, maybe it's because practice makes perfect. Maybe it is not that an older person is any more blunt or seemingly inconsiderate, it's just they've had 40 more years to practice. I think of all the times I am prompted in my heart not to say things. At times I listen, and with gratitude pray for more discretion. Other times, I say what I want to say anyways. What if I continued to ignore those little nudges? What if every time I thought of something, I just said it. Would I become more and more calloused and thoughtless. I think so.
Life is made up of little choices. Right now I am practicing to be the person I will become. Take eating for example. I would not wake Monday morning and proclaim that I am a healthy eater. My husband would question me about the cookies and the sugary cappuccino I had the day before. But if I woke up Monday morning and chose fruits, vegetables, whole grains, etc. and then did the same on Tuesday, then Wednesday, then the whole month, I would have become a healthy eater by my little choices.
I do not want to grow old and be a critical gossip, or slanderer, or even merely a thoughtless person. I want my speech to always be full of grace, imparting life to the hearer.
I do not want to grow more prideful with age. I must practice humble responses now.
As they say, practice makes perfect, so be careful what you practice.
But then I think, maybe it's because practice makes perfect. Maybe it is not that an older person is any more blunt or seemingly inconsiderate, it's just they've had 40 more years to practice. I think of all the times I am prompted in my heart not to say things. At times I listen, and with gratitude pray for more discretion. Other times, I say what I want to say anyways. What if I continued to ignore those little nudges? What if every time I thought of something, I just said it. Would I become more and more calloused and thoughtless. I think so.
Life is made up of little choices. Right now I am practicing to be the person I will become. Take eating for example. I would not wake Monday morning and proclaim that I am a healthy eater. My husband would question me about the cookies and the sugary cappuccino I had the day before. But if I woke up Monday morning and chose fruits, vegetables, whole grains, etc. and then did the same on Tuesday, then Wednesday, then the whole month, I would have become a healthy eater by my little choices.
I do not want to grow old and be a critical gossip, or slanderer, or even merely a thoughtless person. I want my speech to always be full of grace, imparting life to the hearer.
I do not want to grow more prideful with age. I must practice humble responses now.
As they say, practice makes perfect, so be careful what you practice.
Monday, March 16, 2009
This is the Day
Today one of my friends lost someone very dear to them. The world is full of death -- until Jesus returns! He says the last enemy He will defeat is death. So thinking of death, and Heaven, and the ones we love made me want to share some poetry that us struggling poets have composed. (That would be Eric and I, although you shall see I struggle more.)
The Day the Lord Has Made
This is the day the Lord has made,
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
This is the day they told me
I can't find any heart tones,
But God made this day --
This is a day to rejoice?
This is the day they sent me away.
Again and again we tried to get into the hospital,
But no one wanted to deliver our baby.
But God made this day --
This is a day to rejoice?
This is the day my lifeless son came into the world.
I held his bleeding, broken body in my arms and cried.
I sent his body away,
A few short hours to hold my son
A few short hours to create all the memories we will ever have together.
Then they wheeled him away. Forever.
But this is the day the Lord has made --
We will rejoice and be glad in it?
This is the day we planned my son's funeral.
Obituaries, funeral services, caskets,
flowers, cemetery plots, headstones.
God made this day too --
It is a day to rejoice?
This is the day my baby was buried.
This is the day of his funeral, my son.
The casket was so small.
This is the day I watched aching as he rested in the grave.
This is the day my heart silently screamed -- No!
As I watched my husband shovel dirt
And cover the white casket where my son's body lay.
This is the day the Lord made --
This is a day to rejoice?
God, Your ways are unsearchable,
Who can know them?
God, Your thoughts are higher,
Who can reach them?
God, Your love and mercy are unfailing,
Who can surpass them?
God, You are the reason to rejoice.
We trust in Your Sovereignty, Your wisdom, Your goodness, Your love.
We trust and rejoice.
This is a day to rejoice.
SMN
Here's Eric's -- Sorry the music isn't included, I can hear it as I type.
My Secret Child
My secret child, so small and frail,
Why did you leave us so soon?
We love you so, just so you know
We would have had enough room
In our hearts though now are broken,
We will always remember you
And though the world will never know you
You will always be our secret child.
We remember when you never cried,
Our silent treasure so peaceful.
We don't understand the reasons why
Still our hurting hearts find comfort
For we know that Jesus, He holds you
Cause our arms just cannot reach you now
And though the world will never know you
You will always be our secret child.
I will always try to imagine
Of what you and I, we would have been
We would have had such a life together
And we would have been such good friends
And from time to time we will cry
But we will always hope
For one day when we see you again
There's one thing you can be sure,
that we will hold you, I will hold you,
and hold you.
Though our hearts are broken we will say
With our hearts now broken it's Thee we praise
For you have chosen to give and now
You have taken away.
So we bow down and we shout Lord
Blessed be your name.
Blessed be the Lord Almighty, the great El Shaddai,
Elohim our Creator, the Giver of Life
So full of mercy Lord we lift You high....
EAN
Used by Permission. Copyright 2007.
The Day the Lord Has Made
This is the day the Lord has made,
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
This is the day they told me
I can't find any heart tones,
But God made this day --
This is a day to rejoice?
This is the day they sent me away.
Again and again we tried to get into the hospital,
But no one wanted to deliver our baby.
But God made this day --
This is a day to rejoice?
This is the day my lifeless son came into the world.
I held his bleeding, broken body in my arms and cried.
I sent his body away,
A few short hours to hold my son
A few short hours to create all the memories we will ever have together.
Then they wheeled him away. Forever.
But this is the day the Lord has made --
We will rejoice and be glad in it?
This is the day we planned my son's funeral.
Obituaries, funeral services, caskets,
flowers, cemetery plots, headstones.
God made this day too --
It is a day to rejoice?
This is the day my baby was buried.
This is the day of his funeral, my son.
The casket was so small.
This is the day I watched aching as he rested in the grave.
This is the day my heart silently screamed -- No!
As I watched my husband shovel dirt
And cover the white casket where my son's body lay.
This is the day the Lord made --
This is a day to rejoice?
God, Your ways are unsearchable,
Who can know them?
God, Your thoughts are higher,
Who can reach them?
God, Your love and mercy are unfailing,
Who can surpass them?
God, You are the reason to rejoice.
We trust in Your Sovereignty, Your wisdom, Your goodness, Your love.
We trust and rejoice.
This is a day to rejoice.
SMN
Here's Eric's -- Sorry the music isn't included, I can hear it as I type.
My Secret Child
My secret child, so small and frail,
Why did you leave us so soon?
We love you so, just so you know
We would have had enough room
In our hearts though now are broken,
We will always remember you
And though the world will never know you
You will always be our secret child.
We remember when you never cried,
Our silent treasure so peaceful.
We don't understand the reasons why
Still our hurting hearts find comfort
For we know that Jesus, He holds you
Cause our arms just cannot reach you now
And though the world will never know you
You will always be our secret child.
I will always try to imagine
Of what you and I, we would have been
We would have had such a life together
And we would have been such good friends
And from time to time we will cry
But we will always hope
For one day when we see you again
There's one thing you can be sure,
that we will hold you, I will hold you,
and hold you.
Though our hearts are broken we will say
With our hearts now broken it's Thee we praise
For you have chosen to give and now
You have taken away.
So we bow down and we shout Lord
Blessed be your name.
Blessed be the Lord Almighty, the great El Shaddai,
Elohim our Creator, the Giver of Life
So full of mercy Lord we lift You high....
EAN
Used by Permission. Copyright 2007.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Justice or Mercy
My boys always claim that they want justice. They want everything to be fair. It's my turn to play with the bucket truck. I had that first. Shiloh said he would read the book once, then let me look at it. They come to me complaining because life was not just. But they don't really want justice. They want life to be the way they want. Micah would not have complained to me about how long he was taking with the book if his brother was the one waiting and he was the one reading. Micah and Zac might be fighting and hitting, each convinced his brother needs a spanking, but not him. Is it really about being fair? Or is it about pleasing ourselves? We want justice, maybe for others, but not for ourselves. I know I don't want what I deserve! I want mercy. That's one thing that is so amazing about God. He satisfies His justice as He mercifully takes the agony I deserve. He says that mercy triumphs over judgment.
Blah
I looked to see if there was something interesting to read here, but then I realized that I actually have to write something. Then I wonder is it really interesting to me if I already know what it says? It is early and already I don't make sense.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Garlic Feet
Just an update on the Vicks and garlic. My feet have burns or blisters -- not sure what they are -- from the garlic and earlier my husband said my feet still smelled like garlic even though I showered.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Will I be Well Tomorrow?
My feet are burning. I think I must be crazy. Who but a crazy woman would put garlic and Vicks vapor rub on her feet? But actually I am beyond crazy because I rubbed it on my husband's feet and my boys' feet and even the baby's feet. What was I thinking? Yes, internet searching can lead you strange places. I wonder if there are people on the internet that make up weird remedies just to see how many people they can get to put onion juice in their ears, or sniff cayenne pepper up their nose, or put garlic and Vicks on their feet? I guess they can add another person to that tally.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
What Actually Happened
My son almost drowned in the swimming pool at a hotel we were visiting. I didn't see him. I cannot believe that I didn't see him. Of course, neither did the lifeguard -- things can happen so fast. When I saw him he had pulled himself out and was sitting there dazed. I called for him and he staggered to me. I was so scared and felt so stupid. But he is okay. It is God sustaining him.
But I keep thinking about it. I keep thinking, What if he hadn't pulled himself out? What if I hadn't seen him at all? Why wasn't I swimming with him like I usually do?
Over and over.
We were laying in bed after this incident and Eric asks me -- What are you thinking? When I told him I was thinking about Zac, he wanted to know what I was thinking about him. It seemed pretty obvious. My son could have died and it would have been all my fault.
Then he challenged me with the words from Philippians 4:8. "Whatever is true...whatever is right...think about these things." The point is that he didn't die. Why do I keep beating myself with "ifs" that didn't even happen? Why do I keep focusing on myself and my failures instead of thinking about how glad I am that God spared him? Why pretend I can change the past? Why do I want to imagine it was worse than it was? And then, why do I let it haunt me?
But I keep thinking about it. I keep thinking, What if he hadn't pulled himself out? What if I hadn't seen him at all? Why wasn't I swimming with him like I usually do?
Over and over.
We were laying in bed after this incident and Eric asks me -- What are you thinking? When I told him I was thinking about Zac, he wanted to know what I was thinking about him. It seemed pretty obvious. My son could have died and it would have been all my fault.
Then he challenged me with the words from Philippians 4:8. "Whatever is true...whatever is right...think about these things." The point is that he didn't die. Why do I keep beating myself with "ifs" that didn't even happen? Why do I keep focusing on myself and my failures instead of thinking about how glad I am that God spared him? Why pretend I can change the past? Why do I want to imagine it was worse than it was? And then, why do I let it haunt me?
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