This blog was originally posted on my MySpace blog last year on March 31st. Apparently, cool weather after a bit of warm weather is par for the course in late March in Alabama.
Where did spring go???
I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of cool weather! It was warming up nicely last week - I thoroughly enjoyed having my windows open even whilst my sinuses closed up....and then yesterday dawned cooollll...and today is cold and rainy. What is the deal?? I know it’s not blackberry winter because it wasn’t warm long enough yet. I think spring is being fickle this year. Of course, I am thankful for the rain....but it could rain while it remained warm outside, don’t you think??
So, in lament of the temporary loss of spring, I’m gonna post my Ode to Spring that I wrote a few years ago. I was sitting in the parking lot of the school waiting on my young’uns, and it was a gaw-jus day. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the clouds were fluffy & white, and I was watching a stand of pine trees across from the school as they swayed in the breeze. I remember thinking that they were enjoying the spring weather as well, and how much it looked like they were reaching their branches toward Heaven. And so I got out a piece of paper, and this is what resulted - my Ode to Spring:
The pine trees reach toward the sky
seeming to beckon as the clouds pass by.
The maples and oaks wave their leaves
stretching toward Heaven applauding His Deeds.
All of creation sings a song of praise
A constant hum to the Ancient of Days.
A grasshopper’s chirp, a joyful bird tune
whisper a hopeful, "Creator, come soon."
The orbiting moon worships from the expanse
the Master Composer of the Galaxy’s dance.
Uncountable stars - a glimpse of His Glory
Sing through the night of the Savior’s Love Story.
Whispering wind, so much like His Voice
rushes over the earth causing LIFE to rejoice!
-2003, Toni Leverett
Monday, March 30, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Pressing Prayers
Once upon a time, someone told me that she’d heard that I iron everything – including sheets and towels. I laughed. It’s not true, you know. I don’t iron sheets, towels, washcloths, underclothes, or socks. Everything else, though – yeah, pretty much. The above mentioned items, I DO throw in the dryer & they usually get into their rightful places fairly unwrinkled. I hate a wrinkled towel! Probably would iron one if I could figure out how to do it without smushing the nap. ....
.. ..
I don’t know why- I just have “this thing” about wrinkled clothes. I don’t want my kids going to school looking like street urchins, and I don’t have a particular desire to look like a bag lady. My husband usually irons his own clothes. I’ve noticed, though, that more and more he’s wearing camouflage, and it pretty much, well, camouflages wrinkles. Could be he’s onto something….....
.. ..
Since I have this thing about wrinkled clothes, I guess it’s a good thing that I don’t mind ironing. I actually enjoy it. I didn’t ALWAYS enjoy it. It was once one of those necessary chores that I tolerated and tried to make the best of. So, usually, I would iron and sing or hum. (Good thing my laundry room is at the end of the house all by itself!)....
.. ..
One day, while ironing and singing, it occurred to me – HEY! This is the perfect time to be praying for your kids! I mean, really…I’m just standing there, pressing wrinkles out of increasingly not-so-miniature clothing – how much concentration is required? I can do something else while my hands are busy. While my physical hands toil at their pressing, I could fold my spiritual hands in prayer – pressing in close to beseech my Father on behalf of my children. ....
.. ..
So began my Pressing Prayers. ....
.. ..
I use those few brief moments every day to pray for each of my children from head to toe, front to back, top to bottom, inside and out. As I iron the front of a shirt, I pray for them to have hearts of compassion, to love like Jesus, to be pure in heart, passionate in worship. As I press the iron to the area of the shirt that covers their hearts, I pray also for their future wives. I use this time to pray for their physical health as well as their spiritual health. I pray as the Spirit leads me – never the same way each day. Some days I pray that they learn to breathe life deeply, taking in everything that comes their way with hearts that are thankful to the Creator for His Creation and for the life He has provided for them. The Spirit of God knows their needs and never fails to aide me in my prayers. ....
I pray that their appetites would be for things righteous, that the Word would be their daily bread. I pray for joy for them, for faithfulness, and kindness. ....
.. ..
When I iron the back of their shirts, I pray for strength and for boldness. That they would have courage to stand whatever trials they face as they grow and as they live their lives for the Lord. I pray that they always know that their backs were never meant to bear burdens, but that the Lord is the bearer of our burdens. I pray that they take upon themselves His Yoke and are never yoked to sin. I pray for them to have the “backbone” to do what is right, even when it’s not popular. ....
.. ..
I iron their sleeves and pray that they’ll be ‘gentle giants’. Manly men who will have strong arms that are gentle and eager to wrap comfortingly around someone when the need arises. I iron their cuffs and pray for their hands to be loving and tender, diligent to their tasks, hands that – like Jesus – reach out to the lost and hurting to offer friendship, love, and help. I pray that they have hands that eagerly lift up in worship, regularly fold in prayer, and rest each night in peace.....
.. ..
I iron their collars and pray for their minds to be renewed day by day. I pray that rebellion would never tempt them, that obedience would be their first response, always. I pray that their eyes are fixed on Jesus, that their heads are unturned. ....
.. ..
When I get to their jeans, I pray for strength to stand – that they would stand and be counted as ones unashamed of Christ. I pray for their steps to be ordered of the Lord. I pray that their legs would carry them wherever the Voice of the Spirit leads – that they would walk always in the Purpose for which God created them. I pray that I have to replace their jeans often because they’ve worn out the knees bowing in prayer. When I press the front of their jeans, yes, I pray for sexual purity. When I press the seat of their jeans, I pray that they would not be content to sit around waiting for the Kingdom of God to come – but that they would be up, moving, going, actively working to bring the Kingdom of God to touch the earth. ....
.. ..
I pray for their feet – that they would be beautiful in carrying the Gospel with them. That they would run with endurance the race marked out for them. I pray that wherever their feet carry them, that they are surrounded with favor as with a shield.....
.. ..
As the Spirit of God leads me, I pray. Oh, yes, sometimes my Mom-flesh gets in the way of listening to the Voice of God. Sometimes I pray selfishly. “Lord, as I iron this pants leg, I pray that You remind him to take out the garbage without being told repeatedly – or else I’m going to break the leg that goes in here…” Sometimes, I pray less “spiritually-minded” than other times – there are all sorts of needs in their lives that I use this time to cover in prayer. ....
.. ..
They don’t know that each morning when they don their clothing for the day that they’re putting on garments that have been bathed in prayer. They sometimes comment that their clothing is still warm from the iron. I usually smile to myself and think, “That’s the way love feels.” They don’t have to know. The Lord and I know, and that is enough. And now you know. Shhhh…don’t rat me out! ....
.. ..
I’m not a “super-spiritual” person. I am a follower of Christ who believes in prayer. I’m uncomfortable praying in front of others, I don’t like to speak to a crowd & people who ARE more spiritual intimidate the dickens out of me. But someone said to me the other day, “I hate doing laundry!” and I thought (but didn’t SAY!), “Oh, dear. You’re missing out on something special….” That’s when this blog began to form in my mind. (I don’t mind laundry either! I enjoy the scent of the freshly laundered, warm- from-the-dryer clothes – it reminds me that my prayers and praises rise up before the Lord as a sweet-smelling fragrance….I pray sometimes when I fold and hang clothes, too….but I couldn’t think of a catchy phrase for that! Heeheheheeee). I write this blog NOT to be braggadocious (is that a word?) but just to say that any mundane task can be turned into something special – a time to spend in prayer, or a time to reach out a hand, or even a time to just withdraw & recover from the day – if we’ll take our eyes off of the task at hand and put them where they should be in the first place….fixed on Jesus. Whatever we’ve done for the least of these….even this, Lord.
Blessings! ....
.. ..
I don’t know why- I just have “this thing” about wrinkled clothes. I don’t want my kids going to school looking like street urchins, and I don’t have a particular desire to look like a bag lady. My husband usually irons his own clothes. I’ve noticed, though, that more and more he’s wearing camouflage, and it pretty much, well, camouflages wrinkles. Could be he’s onto something….....
.. ..
Since I have this thing about wrinkled clothes, I guess it’s a good thing that I don’t mind ironing. I actually enjoy it. I didn’t ALWAYS enjoy it. It was once one of those necessary chores that I tolerated and tried to make the best of. So, usually, I would iron and sing or hum. (Good thing my laundry room is at the end of the house all by itself!)....
.. ..
One day, while ironing and singing, it occurred to me – HEY! This is the perfect time to be praying for your kids! I mean, really…I’m just standing there, pressing wrinkles out of increasingly not-so-miniature clothing – how much concentration is required? I can do something else while my hands are busy. While my physical hands toil at their pressing, I could fold my spiritual hands in prayer – pressing in close to beseech my Father on behalf of my children. ....
.. ..
So began my Pressing Prayers. ....
.. ..
I use those few brief moments every day to pray for each of my children from head to toe, front to back, top to bottom, inside and out. As I iron the front of a shirt, I pray for them to have hearts of compassion, to love like Jesus, to be pure in heart, passionate in worship. As I press the iron to the area of the shirt that covers their hearts, I pray also for their future wives. I use this time to pray for their physical health as well as their spiritual health. I pray as the Spirit leads me – never the same way each day. Some days I pray that they learn to breathe life deeply, taking in everything that comes their way with hearts that are thankful to the Creator for His Creation and for the life He has provided for them. The Spirit of God knows their needs and never fails to aide me in my prayers. ....
I pray that their appetites would be for things righteous, that the Word would be their daily bread. I pray for joy for them, for faithfulness, and kindness. ....
.. ..
When I iron the back of their shirts, I pray for strength and for boldness. That they would have courage to stand whatever trials they face as they grow and as they live their lives for the Lord. I pray that they always know that their backs were never meant to bear burdens, but that the Lord is the bearer of our burdens. I pray that they take upon themselves His Yoke and are never yoked to sin. I pray for them to have the “backbone” to do what is right, even when it’s not popular. ....
.. ..
I iron their sleeves and pray that they’ll be ‘gentle giants’. Manly men who will have strong arms that are gentle and eager to wrap comfortingly around someone when the need arises. I iron their cuffs and pray for their hands to be loving and tender, diligent to their tasks, hands that – like Jesus – reach out to the lost and hurting to offer friendship, love, and help. I pray that they have hands that eagerly lift up in worship, regularly fold in prayer, and rest each night in peace.....
.. ..
I iron their collars and pray for their minds to be renewed day by day. I pray that rebellion would never tempt them, that obedience would be their first response, always. I pray that their eyes are fixed on Jesus, that their heads are unturned. ....
.. ..
When I get to their jeans, I pray for strength to stand – that they would stand and be counted as ones unashamed of Christ. I pray for their steps to be ordered of the Lord. I pray that their legs would carry them wherever the Voice of the Spirit leads – that they would walk always in the Purpose for which God created them. I pray that I have to replace their jeans often because they’ve worn out the knees bowing in prayer. When I press the front of their jeans, yes, I pray for sexual purity. When I press the seat of their jeans, I pray that they would not be content to sit around waiting for the Kingdom of God to come – but that they would be up, moving, going, actively working to bring the Kingdom of God to touch the earth. ....
.. ..
I pray for their feet – that they would be beautiful in carrying the Gospel with them. That they would run with endurance the race marked out for them. I pray that wherever their feet carry them, that they are surrounded with favor as with a shield.....
.. ..
As the Spirit of God leads me, I pray. Oh, yes, sometimes my Mom-flesh gets in the way of listening to the Voice of God. Sometimes I pray selfishly. “Lord, as I iron this pants leg, I pray that You remind him to take out the garbage without being told repeatedly – or else I’m going to break the leg that goes in here…” Sometimes, I pray less “spiritually-minded” than other times – there are all sorts of needs in their lives that I use this time to cover in prayer. ....
.. ..
They don’t know that each morning when they don their clothing for the day that they’re putting on garments that have been bathed in prayer. They sometimes comment that their clothing is still warm from the iron. I usually smile to myself and think, “That’s the way love feels.” They don’t have to know. The Lord and I know, and that is enough. And now you know. Shhhh…don’t rat me out! ....
.. ..
I’m not a “super-spiritual” person. I am a follower of Christ who believes in prayer. I’m uncomfortable praying in front of others, I don’t like to speak to a crowd & people who ARE more spiritual intimidate the dickens out of me. But someone said to me the other day, “I hate doing laundry!” and I thought (but didn’t SAY!), “Oh, dear. You’re missing out on something special….” That’s when this blog began to form in my mind. (I don’t mind laundry either! I enjoy the scent of the freshly laundered, warm- from-the-dryer clothes – it reminds me that my prayers and praises rise up before the Lord as a sweet-smelling fragrance….I pray sometimes when I fold and hang clothes, too….but I couldn’t think of a catchy phrase for that! Heeheheheeee). I write this blog NOT to be braggadocious (is that a word?) but just to say that any mundane task can be turned into something special – a time to spend in prayer, or a time to reach out a hand, or even a time to just withdraw & recover from the day – if we’ll take our eyes off of the task at hand and put them where they should be in the first place….fixed on Jesus. Whatever we’ve done for the least of these….even this, Lord.
Blessings! ....
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Girls?? Already??
Everyday I get a communication notebook sent home from school in Daniel's notebook. I get a brief record of his day - whether he had trouble staying on task, how many prompts he needed, if he got into trouble for something or got upset, etc. The notebook has two sections - an hourly section in the front so his aide can briefly record the aforementioned type things and a section of note paper in the back so she and I can write notes back and forth. I write whether or not he slept well, if he seems to be not feeling well, if there's something she needs to remind him of, etc. It works great for keeping us all on the same page regarding Daniel's progress.
I don't always get a note home in the back. Yesterday, I did.
She told me that she had intercepted a note Daniel passed in class to a little girl. The note asked the little girl if she would be his girlfriend. Classroom protocol is for the teacher or aide to silently read the note, then deposit it in the trash can - which is what the aide did. (That's how she knew he was asking the girl to be his girlfriend.) The aide, Mrs. H. (para extraordinaire, by the way), told me in her letter in the comm. log that the little girl didn't get to read the note and whispered, "I'm sorry." to Daniel. Mrs. H. spoke to Daniel a little later about passing notes and about asking girls to be his girlfriend. (She said he told her he REALLY wants a girlfriend) She said she usually handles it at this age by saying that they're too young for girlfriend/boyfriends & that they couldn't do that until high school, but she asked me how I wanted her to deal with it. I wrote back, "Lock all the little girls in the closet."
Then I added that she was exactly on target & that Davey had not been allowed a "girlfriend" until he reached the high school. Even then, it was restricted to phone and texts - they could "go out", but they couldn't go OUT, if you know what I mean. I further told her that up until now joking with Daniel about "old stinky girls" had been sufficient to quell his enthusiasm about them, but I guess the time had come for the talk. Oh, gosh no! Not "THE talk"!! That's Dad's job! (I plan on being on vacation far far away when THAT talk takes place...can you IMAGINE Daniel's questions? Me, either.. That's why I'm going away...)
So, I planned it all out. I thought about it, rehearsed it in my mind, and waited for the right time.
We were in the car headed to the high school to pick up Davey from drumline practice, just Daniel and me. We were listening to the radio, he was playing with a Bionicle in the seat next to me. All was peaceful and happy and the time seemed right.
So, I turned down the radio, carefully leaving it playing very quietly - sort of like the keyboard player at church will play quietly while the pastor is giving the altar call...y'know..for ambience....
"Hey, bud...I need to talk to you about something." (Gentle voice, lovingly mama-ish, oozing with timeless wisdom)
"What?" (Bugged tone - more like What NOW..)
"Well, y'know, Mrs. H. wrote me a note today about you passing a note to a little girl and asking her to be your girlfriend...."
"Yeah. She took it up and the girl said no." (Guess he took the girl's I'm sorry for a rejection?)
And then I proceeded to explain how he's too young for a girlfriend, and that can wait until high school. I laid out for him the rules (gently and wisely mama-ish) regarding girlfriends that we'd enforced with his brother, reminding him of the girls that Davey has liked (the ones who have occupied every waking moment...via text..). I told him that there is plenty of time for girlfriends, but he (we!) should wait a little while before he starts thinking along those lines, even though I know he REALLY wants a girlfriend.
I ended by reaching over and touching his cheek with my fingers, just offering my support. I compassionately asked, "Okay?" and waited for the tears to come....
He replied, "Okay. Hey Mom...did you know that some Bionicles come without a mask, only a head?" You know that sound that a balloon makes when you blow it up and then let it go to fly around the room? Yeah. That was me.
Love that boy!
I don't always get a note home in the back. Yesterday, I did.
She told me that she had intercepted a note Daniel passed in class to a little girl. The note asked the little girl if she would be his girlfriend. Classroom protocol is for the teacher or aide to silently read the note, then deposit it in the trash can - which is what the aide did. (That's how she knew he was asking the girl to be his girlfriend.) The aide, Mrs. H. (para extraordinaire, by the way), told me in her letter in the comm. log that the little girl didn't get to read the note and whispered, "I'm sorry." to Daniel. Mrs. H. spoke to Daniel a little later about passing notes and about asking girls to be his girlfriend. (She said he told her he REALLY wants a girlfriend) She said she usually handles it at this age by saying that they're too young for girlfriend/boyfriends & that they couldn't do that until high school, but she asked me how I wanted her to deal with it. I wrote back, "Lock all the little girls in the closet."
Then I added that she was exactly on target & that Davey had not been allowed a "girlfriend" until he reached the high school. Even then, it was restricted to phone and texts - they could "go out", but they couldn't go OUT, if you know what I mean. I further told her that up until now joking with Daniel about "old stinky girls" had been sufficient to quell his enthusiasm about them, but I guess the time had come for the talk. Oh, gosh no! Not "THE talk"!! That's Dad's job! (I plan on being on vacation far far away when THAT talk takes place...can you IMAGINE Daniel's questions? Me, either.. That's why I'm going away...)
So, I planned it all out. I thought about it, rehearsed it in my mind, and waited for the right time.
We were in the car headed to the high school to pick up Davey from drumline practice, just Daniel and me. We were listening to the radio, he was playing with a Bionicle in the seat next to me. All was peaceful and happy and the time seemed right.
So, I turned down the radio, carefully leaving it playing very quietly - sort of like the keyboard player at church will play quietly while the pastor is giving the altar call...y'know..for ambience....
"Hey, bud...I need to talk to you about something." (Gentle voice, lovingly mama-ish, oozing with timeless wisdom)
"What?" (Bugged tone - more like What NOW..)
"Well, y'know, Mrs. H. wrote me a note today about you passing a note to a little girl and asking her to be your girlfriend...."
"Yeah. She took it up and the girl said no." (Guess he took the girl's I'm sorry for a rejection?)
And then I proceeded to explain how he's too young for a girlfriend, and that can wait until high school. I laid out for him the rules (gently and wisely mama-ish) regarding girlfriends that we'd enforced with his brother, reminding him of the girls that Davey has liked (the ones who have occupied every waking moment...via text..). I told him that there is plenty of time for girlfriends, but he (we!) should wait a little while before he starts thinking along those lines, even though I know he REALLY wants a girlfriend.
I ended by reaching over and touching his cheek with my fingers, just offering my support. I compassionately asked, "Okay?" and waited for the tears to come....
He replied, "Okay. Hey Mom...did you know that some Bionicles come without a mask, only a head?" You know that sound that a balloon makes when you blow it up and then let it go to fly around the room? Yeah. That was me.
Love that boy!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Buildin' Monuments
I have a confession to make.... I ain't arrived. (In Alabama, ain't is a perfectly acceptable word for confessionals!) I ain't got it all figured out. I ain't always smart enough to remember the lessons I've learned in the past. I ain't the brightest bulb on the tree, the sharpest tool in the shed, the brightest crayon in the box...my elevator doesn't go all the way to the top....any other metaphor for being a big dummy sometimes that you care to apply here would work. But then, did any of you ever doubt any of that? Didn't think so. Me, either.
Now, before you read any further trying to figure out what the heck I'm talking about, I ought to warn you that I ain't thunk this blahg through thoroughly...I'm just typin' off the top of my often shockingly empty head. You've been warned.
Yesterday was a pretty bad day for me - at least for a little while there. I don't want to go into details too much (because I'm an idiot), but let's suffice it to say that yesterday started out a pretty stressful, anxiety-ridden, self-esteem shattering, yucky, byucky day. And for a little while, I FELT it. Oh BOY did I feel it. I was in tears wondering how on earth I could ever solve this dilemma I faced. I cried out, "Jesus...help me..I don't know what to do. " but I didn't really expect Him to hear and rush to help because, truth be known, this dilemma was of my own making - sheer stupidity. I've heard it said that God helps those who help themselves....I figured I'd helped myself into this stinky mess, He probably wasn't going to help me out.
And I FORGOT! I forgot all the times He has come to my aid in the past. All the times He hasn't left me to wallow in the mire of my own making, but instead lifted me out, brushed off the dirty stuff & set my feet back on solid ground. I FORGOT to look at the monuments I've tried to build within my own memory - the places that I've set aside as monuments, or memorials, of His Grace, Faithfulness, and Goodness...the places where I can look and remind myself, "Look what the Lord has done!"
I forgot to believe God for the unbelievable, and allowed myself to get caught up for a few minutes in fear and anxiety. I allowed myself to run to the phone (well, the computer) before I ran to the Throne (Joyce Meyer's words, not mine, lest anyone should think I'm clever like that..). I ran, found a friend on line, who "listened" to my problem, offered her helpful advice, which I heeded (I'm at least that smart!), and I made a phone call that, within minutes, resolved my anxiety and worry. God went before me, and the issue was resolved without further ado. Do I believe that God heard my desperate heart? Absolutely. Do I believe that God used my friend to help me find my way out of my problem? Absolutely. Do I believe it was a coincidence that this friend was on line when I signed on? No way. She hears Him, and He knew it...and He also knew that my heart was so caught up that I probably couldn't hear HIM right that moment...so He spoke (and worked!) through her. Thank you, friend, for being faithful to hear His Voice. (You know who you are, and I know you're reading this...)
Funny, about the same time I was struggling with my own issue, someone dear to my heart sent me a text message asking for prayer because of a medical test she was facing right that moment. I didn't hesitate to pray for her, never doubted that God would come through for her, and totally believed God that the medical test would be absolutely fine. (It was absolutely fine, by the way...) But I couldn't seem to believe for ME. I'd forgotten to look at my monuments.
A little later, when I went into my prayer closet, I was thanking God for the awesome way He had shown up for me and for the one dear to me, and I heard Him whisper, "Why were you afraid? Why didn't you look at your monuments?"
God has this way of piercing through all the feathers and fluff and getting right down to the nitty gritty of the matter, doesn't He? I think my thankfulness, while sincere and heartfelt, was semi-sub-consciously an attempt to divert His Attention from the main issue...I had failed to REMEMBER Who He was, Whose I was, and all the countless times He has proven Himself Mighty and Faithful (Mighty Faithful!) in my life. He wasn't gonna play that, though, and immediately put His Finger right on the heart. Ouch.
So, that is my confession. Just so you know, I made it right with my Lord...and the issue is resolved, even though I still have some "mopping up" to do. But, that's okay. I know that the worst is over, because God cared about what mattered to me, and caused an iron axe head to float on my behalf. (2 Kings 6) My predicament was tiny if looked at through God's Eyes. But, because He cares about the small things that cause us concern, He is Faithful to work on behalf of His children. So, today, I'm building another monument here; a reminder to me the next time I face worry and anxiety, that God is very present and desires to rush to my aid if I will only call on Him because LOOK WHAT THE LORD HAS DONE in the past. He never changes, His Promises are yes and amen, His Mercies are new every morning, and He makes all things new....yesterday, today, and forever.
Love to all!!
Now, before you read any further trying to figure out what the heck I'm talking about, I ought to warn you that I ain't thunk this blahg through thoroughly...I'm just typin' off the top of my often shockingly empty head. You've been warned.
Yesterday was a pretty bad day for me - at least for a little while there. I don't want to go into details too much (because I'm an idiot), but let's suffice it to say that yesterday started out a pretty stressful, anxiety-ridden, self-esteem shattering, yucky, byucky day. And for a little while, I FELT it. Oh BOY did I feel it. I was in tears wondering how on earth I could ever solve this dilemma I faced. I cried out, "Jesus...help me..I don't know what to do. " but I didn't really expect Him to hear and rush to help because, truth be known, this dilemma was of my own making - sheer stupidity. I've heard it said that God helps those who help themselves....I figured I'd helped myself into this stinky mess, He probably wasn't going to help me out.
And I FORGOT! I forgot all the times He has come to my aid in the past. All the times He hasn't left me to wallow in the mire of my own making, but instead lifted me out, brushed off the dirty stuff & set my feet back on solid ground. I FORGOT to look at the monuments I've tried to build within my own memory - the places that I've set aside as monuments, or memorials, of His Grace, Faithfulness, and Goodness...the places where I can look and remind myself, "Look what the Lord has done!"
I forgot to believe God for the unbelievable, and allowed myself to get caught up for a few minutes in fear and anxiety. I allowed myself to run to the phone (well, the computer) before I ran to the Throne (Joyce Meyer's words, not mine, lest anyone should think I'm clever like that..). I ran, found a friend on line, who "listened" to my problem, offered her helpful advice, which I heeded (I'm at least that smart!), and I made a phone call that, within minutes, resolved my anxiety and worry. God went before me, and the issue was resolved without further ado. Do I believe that God heard my desperate heart? Absolutely. Do I believe that God used my friend to help me find my way out of my problem? Absolutely. Do I believe it was a coincidence that this friend was on line when I signed on? No way. She hears Him, and He knew it...and He also knew that my heart was so caught up that I probably couldn't hear HIM right that moment...so He spoke (and worked!) through her. Thank you, friend, for being faithful to hear His Voice. (You know who you are, and I know you're reading this...)
Funny, about the same time I was struggling with my own issue, someone dear to my heart sent me a text message asking for prayer because of a medical test she was facing right that moment. I didn't hesitate to pray for her, never doubted that God would come through for her, and totally believed God that the medical test would be absolutely fine. (It was absolutely fine, by the way...) But I couldn't seem to believe for ME. I'd forgotten to look at my monuments.
A little later, when I went into my prayer closet, I was thanking God for the awesome way He had shown up for me and for the one dear to me, and I heard Him whisper, "Why were you afraid? Why didn't you look at your monuments?"
God has this way of piercing through all the feathers and fluff and getting right down to the nitty gritty of the matter, doesn't He? I think my thankfulness, while sincere and heartfelt, was semi-sub-consciously an attempt to divert His Attention from the main issue...I had failed to REMEMBER Who He was, Whose I was, and all the countless times He has proven Himself Mighty and Faithful (Mighty Faithful!) in my life. He wasn't gonna play that, though, and immediately put His Finger right on the heart. Ouch.
So, that is my confession. Just so you know, I made it right with my Lord...and the issue is resolved, even though I still have some "mopping up" to do. But, that's okay. I know that the worst is over, because God cared about what mattered to me, and caused an iron axe head to float on my behalf. (2 Kings 6) My predicament was tiny if looked at through God's Eyes. But, because He cares about the small things that cause us concern, He is Faithful to work on behalf of His children. So, today, I'm building another monument here; a reminder to me the next time I face worry and anxiety, that God is very present and desires to rush to my aid if I will only call on Him because LOOK WHAT THE LORD HAS DONE in the past. He never changes, His Promises are yes and amen, His Mercies are new every morning, and He makes all things new....yesterday, today, and forever.
Love to all!!
Monday, March 23, 2009
Hrmph.
Hrmph. Just hrmph. This being said with a look of utter disgust on my face - you should put one on your face as well. You know...become one with the message....empathize with my vexation...put yourself in my shoes...
So, of late, I've noticed that my arms have begun to decrease in length. I'm not sure when it began happening, but it happened so subtly that my shirts apparently shrunk in direct proportion because my sleeves still fit correctly. Which, really, is very convenient. I imagine it's how the Hebrew children felt when their clothes didn't wear out for 40 years. (Seriously, don't you think those 40 year old men looked silly in schoolboy knickers that still fit?) But, I digress....
Along with my shortening arm length, I also began to notice that my head ached more often than usual, children & husband notwithstanding. (I've also noticed quite a few more white hairs sproinging up out of my chocolate locks, but that's another blahg entirely.)
Along with my shortening arm length and aching head, I noticed that when, say, in church, and I would look down at my Bible and then up at Pastor Brett, my vision would be slightly blurred. I'd become convinced that Pastor Brett had found some way to have that Doris Day halo effect around him permanently. How quaint.
Along with my shortening arm length, my aching head, and Pastor's halo, I noticed that when driving, cars coming toward me on the highway caused my eyes to hurt much like looking out the side window and trying to focus on rapidly passing trees would do. Hmm...
Perplexed, I decided to do the utterly ridiculous and go to the eye doctor to make sure that they were still brown. I arrived, and for some reason they tested my vision (go figure!). They told me something that is completely insane...they said that I have 20/20 vision......at a distance. But - as things get closer to me, my eyes cannot focus. And then.....and then...
AND THEN!!! He said to me, "You need bifocals along with regular glasses for your farsightedness." I said, "Well, of course, I'm far too young for bifocals." and scoffingly laughed at his obvious lack of experience whilst contemplating a malpractice suit. And he replied...actually said OUT LOUD...to ME...right there in that room. Right there in that room within kicking distance of my size 8's the whippersnapper said...."Oh, you're plenty old enough for bifocals." GASP!!! WHAT??? WHAT???
Can you BELIEVE that? ME? At 4murmur years old, I'm PLENTY old enough for bifocals???? Why, why, why....I never!
Sigh. Hrmph. So, I did the unthinkable, and ordered (sob) glasses. They're cute glasses. They're very Sarah Palin-ish. I'll look like a librarian...I don't think I can carry the naughty librarian look, but perhaps I'll look not so much bookish as intelligent.....so, in two weeks when you see me in my new glasses, please don't laugh. And please don't put anything in my path because I might trip over it as I learn to walk in progressive lenses - what? You thought I actually ordered BIFOCALS?!?!?!? Hahahahahaaaa!! Oh, naive one......
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go scrub my dentures, change my Depends, and take a nap.
Hrmph.
So, of late, I've noticed that my arms have begun to decrease in length. I'm not sure when it began happening, but it happened so subtly that my shirts apparently shrunk in direct proportion because my sleeves still fit correctly. Which, really, is very convenient. I imagine it's how the Hebrew children felt when their clothes didn't wear out for 40 years. (Seriously, don't you think those 40 year old men looked silly in schoolboy knickers that still fit?) But, I digress....
Along with my shortening arm length, I also began to notice that my head ached more often than usual, children & husband notwithstanding. (I've also noticed quite a few more white hairs sproinging up out of my chocolate locks, but that's another blahg entirely.)
Along with my shortening arm length and aching head, I noticed that when, say, in church, and I would look down at my Bible and then up at Pastor Brett, my vision would be slightly blurred. I'd become convinced that Pastor Brett had found some way to have that Doris Day halo effect around him permanently. How quaint.
Along with my shortening arm length, my aching head, and Pastor's halo, I noticed that when driving, cars coming toward me on the highway caused my eyes to hurt much like looking out the side window and trying to focus on rapidly passing trees would do. Hmm...
Perplexed, I decided to do the utterly ridiculous and go to the eye doctor to make sure that they were still brown. I arrived, and for some reason they tested my vision (go figure!). They told me something that is completely insane...they said that I have 20/20 vision......at a distance. But - as things get closer to me, my eyes cannot focus. And then.....and then...
AND THEN!!! He said to me, "You need bifocals along with regular glasses for your farsightedness." I said, "Well, of course, I'm far too young for bifocals." and scoffingly laughed at his obvious lack of experience whilst contemplating a malpractice suit. And he replied...actually said OUT LOUD...to ME...right there in that room. Right there in that room within kicking distance of my size 8's the whippersnapper said...."Oh, you're plenty old enough for bifocals." GASP!!! WHAT??? WHAT???
Can you BELIEVE that? ME? At 4murmur years old, I'm PLENTY old enough for bifocals???? Why, why, why....I never!
Sigh. Hrmph. So, I did the unthinkable, and ordered (sob) glasses. They're cute glasses. They're very Sarah Palin-ish. I'll look like a librarian...I don't think I can carry the naughty librarian look, but perhaps I'll look not so much bookish as intelligent.....so, in two weeks when you see me in my new glasses, please don't laugh. And please don't put anything in my path because I might trip over it as I learn to walk in progressive lenses - what? You thought I actually ordered BIFOCALS?!?!?!? Hahahahahaaaa!! Oh, naive one......
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go scrub my dentures, change my Depends, and take a nap.
Hrmph.
Introduction
Well, Hi! I thought I'd delve off into this blogging business (I usually refer to my blogs as "Blahgs"...for soon-to-be obvious reasons). I've enjoyed blogging for a while on my MySpace page, but I've never blogged elsewhere. So, here I am!
Since you're spending your valuable time here reading, I suppose you're wondering who the heck I am.
I'm Toni. Wife of Joel, Mom of Davey & Daniel, Daughter of God. My Davey is an awesome musician (guitar, drums, vocals in church worship team plus high school marching band). My Daniel is an incredible artist, and happens to be a child with autism. My Joel is a big goof-ball who makes me laugh every day. I work with the children of my church, and I'm a stay-at-home mom. (How's that for a nutshell intro?)
I'm going to start my blahgs by posting some previously posted MySpace blahgs that I've written. I cover just about any topic that is in my head on any given day. I write often of my faith, I write of our journey with autism, and I even write about the thoughts rattling around in my meandering mind (most often referred to as my MM.). I will post my first actual blahg soon.
I hope you'll visit again. I'd love to get to know you!
Blessings!
Toni
Since you're spending your valuable time here reading, I suppose you're wondering who the heck I am.
I'm Toni. Wife of Joel, Mom of Davey & Daniel, Daughter of God. My Davey is an awesome musician (guitar, drums, vocals in church worship team plus high school marching band). My Daniel is an incredible artist, and happens to be a child with autism. My Joel is a big goof-ball who makes me laugh every day. I work with the children of my church, and I'm a stay-at-home mom. (How's that for a nutshell intro?)
I'm going to start my blahgs by posting some previously posted MySpace blahgs that I've written. I cover just about any topic that is in my head on any given day. I write often of my faith, I write of our journey with autism, and I even write about the thoughts rattling around in my meandering mind (most often referred to as my MM.). I will post my first actual blahg soon.
I hope you'll visit again. I'd love to get to know you!
Blessings!
Toni
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)