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I practice hypocrisy on a regular basis.  There I've said it.

The definition of hypocrisy according to Merriam-Webster is -

2. a person who acts in contradiction to his or her stated beliefs

(I'm sending Merriam-Webster a picture of myself in case they want to illustrate the word.)

My posts have enlightened me to this "Hypocrite Syndrome" that I have.  It's usually right before I hit the publish button that I look no further than the title and see that I'm spouting off words, that in actuality, I'm not good at believing myself. I'm stating beliefs that aren't followed.

I wrote "Hold on to Your Reason to Smile" while grimacing.

hyp

"How (Not) to be a Friend" was written by me and addressed to me at the same time.

It's an absolute joke that I wrote "Say Yes to the Mess" because I'm not sure I've ever willingly done that.

Still, I believe what I write though I act in direct opposition.

I'm reminded of a miracle in Mark where a man had brought his son who was possessed by an evil spirit.  The man said to Jesus,

  But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”

23 “‘If you can’?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for one who believes.”

24 Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” Mark 9:22b-24

I get this guy.

He went to Jesus.  He asked for his help, his belief wavering.  He both believes and he doesn't.  Yet his contradiction is true.

Most of my posts are pleas for help.  I know I should say "yes to the mess" sometimes.  I know that spending time with the kids is more important than my house being spotless.  I believe that.  Sometimes I'll believe it while I'm scrambling to clean the very mess I know to be ok.

Other times I pretend that the Poptart crumbs and socks on the floor are perfectly fine while I'm violently shaking my head "no" on the inside. I'm acting in contradiction to my beliefs.  I'm feeling it's not ok to my core. God knows my  "shaking -no" on the inside doesn't match my pretending to play it cool.

I know I should love my neighbor as myself.  I believe it.  Just because I don't act it, doesn't mean I don't believe it.

I know God can heal all hurts.  I don't believe.  And I believe without power. I'm weak and fallen and I can't do it on my own.

So I'll continue to write and not follow through with what I say.

I'll say I believe and then I'll act like I don't.

I'll even say I believe, then act like I do, but my heart's meditation will be like that father's as it wrestles within me.

And all the while, I'll be pleading with my Savior to"help me overcome my disbelief".

I'll be thankful for his power, and for his mercy in accepting a hypocrite like me.

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spoon hay

And as a slotted spoon liver, be mindful that you're placed in the hand of a mighty God who helps you know that which is worth holding on to and what needs to be let go.

He says:

fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous hand.  Isaiah 41:10

Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Ephesians 4:31

And my favorite- The Whatever verse

Finally brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things. Philippians 4:8

Praying your day's focus is not on trash, but treasure.

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I steer clear of the self check-out aisles.  I think I tried them twice. I had to try and scan each item like fifty times because the bar code wasn't being recognized. Both times that I attempted to self check out, the "dummy light" came on alerting a sales clerk to come to my assistance.

The lyrics of a rap song, which I found on google, says "You better check yo self before you wreck yo self".  That's a good word Ice Cube.

check

This picture really has nothing to do with my post, but I've been dying to use it.

I... Cannot always check myself out.
I typically need assistance.

This doesn't only apply to my shopping at WalMart. As I pushed my cart toward the exit this morning thinking about the impossibility of self-checking, my mind reeled. I began to think about how we all need assistance when it comes to assessing situations and even life in general.

How am I doing?
How are things going?

My answer is so skewed by my emotions.

Most often, things are less difficult/tragic (life as we know it is over)/maddening....than I feel.

When you need to check yourself, proceed with assistance

Surround yourself with friends; especially the ones who will be honest with you. I appreciate friends who will tell me when they think I'm wrong, or that I'm overreacting.
(It's a bonus when we're eating cake while discussing my frustration, say, .....over swimsuit shopping with my preteen) My sisters, well really, my whole family falls into the friend category.

Husbands are good "keep yourself in-check" partners too. I talk to me husband Jason about everything.  He tells me how he sees things, thankfully gently.  That's why I tell him everything. I trust him.

Something to remember:
Once we were buying a hermit crab. Our oldest daughter Hallie chose one that was isolated in the corner of the aquarium. When Hallie picked it up, it pinched her most horribly. My point?  The crab probably needed to be alone (maybe for a bit). You may need to let your emotions fizzle a bit before your can talk constructively with anyone. Or else find a forgiving friend to pinch.

Your kids will tell you how it really is. My kids tell me when I'm "freaking out".  Hallie told me not long ago that I care too much about what I look like.  They call it to my attention when I'm not really listening to them. I can tell when they're right, which they usually are.

The Bible is the best check yo self checklist; Proverbs in particular. It constantly reminds me to "shut my mouth". It tells me not to despair, "for God is with you".  I'm reminded of the promise that comes in "raising my child up in the way he should go" even if he isn't listening now.

To quote Jason, again, using the same quote I've used before,

"There are no Lone Ranger Christians".

You can visit the self check out aisle, but don't forget those who are there for you BEFORE the dummy light comes on.

Aren't we thankful that God graces us with loved ones and loving words?

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You've been spared.  I wrote another lengthy post earlier today; this time on how (not) to be a better friend.  The bad news?  My post is lost in cyber space.  The good news? You get the rehearsed post in a nutshell.  Well,..... a very large nutshell.

I've been reading the book of Job. Of the themes of Job, friendship, or the lack thereof has always been an out-standing theme.  "Miserable counselors" Job calls them.

Friends in Job's Life who made the "Remind Me not to Call These Guys during Hard-Times List":

Job has lost everything and is subjected to-

"The As if you didn't feel bad enough, Let me -Kick you while you're Down- Friend"

His friend says, "When will you end these speeches?  Be sensible and then we'll talk" (18:2)

"The Make you more Depressed Friend"

"If even the moon is not bright and the stars are not pure in his eyes, how much less is man, who is but a maggot- a son of man, who is only a worm" (26:5-6) Wow.  Thanks for that reminder, Bildad.

and the

"Let me Bestow upon you my Endless Wisdom Friend"

"....my understanding inspires me to reply" (20:3) Zophar, you and I have the same problem.

Knowing my needs in my own seasons of pain, I can tell you that friends using approach either #1, #2, or #3 are not helping me through. Luckily I don't have friends that speak unkindly or recklessly when I'm in pain.  And I'm careful in my own words to those who are hurting.  But #3 is my go-to friend rescue approach.  I'm a wealth of comforting words and advice.  I will attempt to talk, talk, talk you out of your pain.

....... It doesn't work that way.

Job's friends did do something right.

...they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights.  No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.  (2:13)

They didn't say "Things could be worse." or "This is going to get better." In their wiser moments, they didn't give an 8,000 word discourse explaining why you should be happy.

They saw.  And they stayed.

friend

That's been the beautiful thing my friends have done for me in rough times. Sure they talked me through my pain.  And there's nothing wrong with that.  In fact, having someone to talk with in a tough season helps.  But it's important to remember that it's your presence, your listening ear, your genuine concern, and importantly your prayer that really matters.

Be with them.

Bear with them.

To quote Maya Angelou-

At the end of the day people won't remember what you said or did.  They'll remember how you made them feel.

How has a friend helped you through a tough season?

 

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This morning I pull your drawer and it barely  budges. It's packed tight with shirts that don't cover your belly when you stretch your arms above your head.

You've all three out grown last year's swimsuits. And to my oldest? Each morning when I give you the new day greeting I see that the amount of "legs" that hang off the edge of the bed has grown again overnight.

So much growing.


I'd wish for it to stop. Or even better, I would wish for a reverse in time; that we could go back to when a quick squeeze made things better -and scooping you up made you safe.

I treasure those times.

......Still there's a part of me that says, grow!

Grow taller. -Not just the kind of taller that calls for a shopping trip for new swim suits or shoes.

Grow to be a better friend,

A better listener

Grow to notice when someone is alone or down in the dumps

And encourage them

Grow to be a better learner

Realizing that school and church are places intended to enrich your life, not smother it (though the choice is yours).
Grow to be more independent, but in your growing, realize the value of friends and family who love you

-no matter what.

Grow in grace.

Your dad and I are growing right alongside you.

Grow to see beauty in strange things like sitting in silence, and even death.

The process won't always be pleasant for you, or for me.

In addition to those proud moments, when you jump and can touch the ceiling, there will be times when your growing causes pain for us both.
Ironically, the painful kind brings about the most wonder-full results.

Above all, grow to know how much God loves you.

You will never reach the heights intended using the world's measure stick.

Remember that.

Go on and grow.  And know that my heart would burst, were it not for its growing to make room to love you more- as I watch you each day.

I love you tiny and love you tall,

Mom

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And a thought on how to live a more fragrant life

I found a surprise in my purse today.  I was about do some training at one of our school campus libraries and I really didn't know anyone.  Out of sheer boredom I started searching my purse, unzipping each compartment taking inventory.  As I unzipped the front right pocket a pair of women's khaki socks peeked out.

I'd like to say they were fresh, new socks but that would be a lie. To fill you in on how the socks came to be there, we'd have to go back to the first week of March.

I had flown to Seattle to serve as a reinforcement to help my sweet sis-n-law who had been getting treatment for an illness.  I don't typically wear socks (I've mentioned before, I'm a flip-flop girl.)

But Ann had warned me that it would be cold.  So I packed the few pair of socks I owned. The first few days I was there I wore the khaki socks around Ann's house.

Saturday morning Ann's family had graciously offered to take me to see the sights.  As everyone was getting in the car I noticed my well-worn khaki socks were sliding down to my ankles beneath my boots. Unwilling to suffer sock discomfort I raced inside to get an extra pair of socks which I changed in the car.  Where else to place the down-sliding socks except for in my purse?

In addition to gently-used, slightly odorous socks which are still in my purse this very moment, I have other stink in my life.  There are those things, in all of our lives I suppose, which are malodorous, unprofitable and cumbersome, yet we carry those things around.Seems like craziness, but here are some reasons...

Why I Hold on to the Stink:

1. I forget about it. I hate it when my kids use this excuse, but sometimes I just forget.  I forgot the socks were in my purse.

2. I'm going to take care of it later.  I actually found the socks a couple of weeks ago in my purse.  I was probably somewhere public when I found them and told myself I would take them out later......  But they're still there.

3.I'm oblivious. I've had stink in my life that I've been completely unaware of.  Then my daughter tells me I need therapy to help me with my "freaking out".  That's stink that I didn't even smell.  No telling what stink I have in my life right now that I don't even know about.

4. We're Hoarders. Don't tell me you haven't seen the show. We probably all suffer from a degree of some type of accumulation syndrome; maybe it's stuff in your purse or maybe you hold on to worry.

5.Sometimes stink doesn't stink to me at all. Let me explain.  Socks pretty much always stink, but there's some kinds of stink that, strangely, we like.  I like having new things; I especially like new shirts.  I can't go into Target without looking in the clothes section.  Having a persistent desire for "things" and thinking those things fill me.... is stink.  But I like it.

I carry with me a lot of stuff;  unnecessary stuff, burdensome stuff. What if I took the time every day to do a little searching for that which I need to rid myself of?  -Maybe a little listening to those who love me or the one who knows me best? "You don't need that", they'd say.  I wonder if my daily offering might be a little more fragrant....without the stink.

(Attention Mom.  The khaki socks are yours.  I borrowed them at Christmas.  So I not only have a problem holding on to my things that I don't need.  I also have a problem holding on to other people's things.  But that's for another post...)

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To a weed:
I've seen some breath-taking flowers in my time; with soft petals vivid in sunny yellow or rich red. I've known flowers who made their presence known throughout a house, their fragrance bursting forth in commanding presence.

 But you?.......you're different, there's not much noteworthy about you.


  

In fact I've never taken much notice of you. Oh sure, I've grumbled when I walk into my yard and you've sprouted your unattractive head in my grass again.  I bend down and pull only to find you fight back, your roots firmly gripping the soil underneath. Honestly your stubborn presence can't help but be noticed.
 

 I saw you just this weekend underneath a picnic table.  You had found your way through the cool hard concrete, though the passageway was narrow. I know the journey through that crevice mustn't have been easy, but there you stood.
 

 You didn't speak to me through familiar beauty like flowers do. You were rather silent.  But I sensed your strength.
  You're not an object of desire to most and you're not known to serve some great purpose as does a rose.
   You do little more than point yourself to the one who created you.
  I think that's noble. Maybe you don't have a choice.  Maybe the fact that you don't have a choice is the reason you're so strong.
  Some days I don't feel pretty or purposeful.  You don't seem concerned with those things. Aside from what I have to offer, I forget that there's any other reason to stand, another reason to be.

 Any day before this weekend, before I'd gotten the chance to know you, I'd tell that you given the choice I'd rather be a flower than a weed.  But now I know that's not always so. Though thankful to be created with purpose and beauty, I'll take those days where I'm simply clothed in strength.

I'll be a weed.

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If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it.

I think Max Lucado said this.  It's a warm thought that I was reminded of as I decluttered the inside and out of my own refrigerator this week.

But if God had a refrigerator:

It would be big enough for all of the pictures of you; from the newborn picture capturing the moment you stretched out your wrinkled fingers to say hello world, to the awkward photo of you in third grade where your smile was a mixture of missing teeth and teeth too big for your head.

It would have pictures on there of your friends back when too, every single friend.  It wouldn't  just be outdated Christmas pictures- And he wouldn't have them on his fridge because he missed them.  He's not separated from them by miles and miles like you are.

And there'd be pictures of that kid in class that no one talked to because he was strange and always had a patch of hair sticking straight up as if he'd never been introduced to a comb.

I wouldn't be surprised if there weren't Spelling papers with smiley faces or report cards with all A's.  Not because there wouldn't be room, but because he doesn't care so much about your accomplishments.

If God had a refrigerator he might put invitations on it; pretty paper proclaiming upcoming weddings and one for the Lego birthday party for your nephew that's turning five.  But they wouldn't be on there so he wouldn't forget.  He never forgets.

He wouldn't have to regrettably throw away the outdated picture of the sunshine with you and Him holding hands underneath because there wasn't enough room. The pictures on His refrigerator would never be too crowded.

Pictures on his fridge would never fade, or wrinkle,....or fall off the fridge to the dusty oblivion underneath.

He wouldn't have the week's meals or the weekly schedule scrawled out on a notecard.  His plans are age-old.

-No list of emergency numbers of people to contact when he's out-of-town.  He's never-not-there.

There's a lot of difference between God's fridge and mine...

 Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the Lord forever. Psalm 23:6

 

 

 

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I don't like tests.  I avoid them when I can.  But in life we're faced with tests of all kinds like Spelling and Math tests. Some tests come as we face decisions.  We must decide how to respond to our sibling who's singing obnoxiously in our ear just to make us crazy. Whether to lie or be honest in a difficult situation is an example of a test.  Maybe most weighty on my mind, this week, would be the STAAR test.  (Just looking at all the capital letters makes me feel intimidated -STAAR!!!!.....it's scary).  I am giving the STAAR test this week. It brings back familiar test feelings.  Those feelings got me to thinking.

image

Thoughts about Tests

First things first. Tests are only a small measure of performance.  Tests only measure specific things like your knowledge on certain skills on a given day like the threes on a multiplication timed-test. One test might measure your ability to do pull-ups with a belly full of the pizza you had at lunch. You may have a test on the playground which requires choosing if you will stand up for someone being mistreated or if you'll do nothing.

Tests don't ever fully measure who you are.

Let me say that again in case you weren't listening.

Tests don't ever fully measure who you are.

If they did, King David wouldn't measure up too well. He messed up big-time on a number of tests. I think it was his heart that God was concerned with. Don't be too hard on yourself when every test is not met with star-student/get-it-all-right- performance.

But being that this is a test you have to take and you're expected to do well, here are some tips to help you do your best:

Be prepared.  By the time you're faced with a test it's too late.  Either you have what it takes to ace it, or you can eeny, meeny, miny, moe your way to the answer.  Tests will come.  In school and in life, listen,....study,......read the book.

Eat breakfast. This advice comes from one who didn't eat breakfast and fell asleep one time taking an important test when she was a Junior in High School. Embarrassing.  Make it a healthy breakfast too.  An oatmeal cream pie isn't the same as oatmeal, though I wish it was.  Eat healthy.

Pray.  Pray for a clear mind; that you would be able to remember those things you've learned.  Pray for calm.  Pray that God will help you know that He is with you during this test (well, any test). He's the big deal.  Not this test.

Rest well. Know that tests sometimes bring about weird dreams....or nightmares. Thank goodness they're just dreams.

Weird dreams about tests are normal. I think...... Weird and normal probably shouldn't be in the same sentence.  But for me, I have weird dreams when I'm facing tests.  Just last night as I was getting ready for my test to give the STAAR without breaking one of the rules in the really, really thick book teachers have to study to give you the test, I dreamed that I had to microwave the test for it to be ready.  Anyway you can't do much about weird dreams.  I mainly wanted to tell you about mine so you wouldn't feel so strange if you dream that your STAAR test booklet grows fur and fangs and tries to eat you.

Don't stress out. Worry doesn't help; it makes the tests you face harder.  Either you will do well on the test, or you won't do as well you wanted to.   If you don't do well on a particular test, just expect lightning to come from out of nowhere and strike you.  Nah, not really.  So don't worry.  Pray, like I suggested earlier.

Here's a biggie!!

Tests are not final. Tests are given to inform.   I tested a Jiffy Hamburger Casserole recipe tonight.  It was awful.  So where do I go from here?  Maybe I look more closely at the recipe next time.  Maybe I switch things up a bit.  Maybe I try something new.

Abraham Lincoln wasn't successful at every thing he attempted. Neither was George Washington Carver.  Look them up. There were times they didn't achieve what they had worked hard for.  So they continued to work hard.  Test results are a starting mark. They tell you what you may need to do for better results next time. Don't sweat this.

Get on your mark, 

Get set.

get your No. 2 pencils

and get on with it. 

This.......is just a test.

P.S. Feel free to share your weird test dream.  Surely I'm not the only one.

 

 

 

 

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Jason had a small wedding to officiate today. Only the couple and their immediate family would be there.  I asked him if someone would be taking pictures.  He thought probably not.  So I did what I so naturally do; I inserted myself into the event.  Not even knowing the couple, I decided (all self-important-like) that I would save the day.  I asked Jason if I could tag along and offer to take their wedding pictures.

Pulling up to the church, I got out of the car ready to pour on some picture-taking love.  I was stopped dead in my tracks by a woman holding a camera with a professional-looking attachment that resembled a creature out of a sci-fi film.  I told Jason I could stay in the car realizing I had no purpose in being there; I hadn't been invited.

Fast forward to 2:00.

Jason and I found ourselves on a "Let's get everybody something new to wear for Easter" mission. After a few hours and a few shopping bags, everybody had something new and spiffy to wear; except me. Every dress was too short, too tight, too young-looking or dry clean only.  If there was a dress meant just for me, I wasn't finding it.  And so we went home with one person in the car suffering with a case of "poor me".

The way I see it, this is a give and take world. Not one to do all giving or taking only, I find it appropriate to have good balance.  I had planned that good balance today.  I was going to give at the wedding by taking pictures that would serve an unsuspecting couple.  I was later going to take home a new dress; I'd owe it to myself.

Give and take. I see myself doing just that in every day's story; a story in which I'm always a central character.  I'm "a friend in need or a friend indeed".

But it isn't always about me.

At the wedding, I found myself nothing more than a nameless girl in the audience. I wasn't there to give or take. I was there, simply,  to take-in.  I saw the mother and father of the bride holding hands; their age-old love for each other evident.  I watched the bride wipe tears as she repeated "I do".  And I listened to a story of how the marriage came to be; a story rich in love.

Leaving the mall, I found myself with a willingness to give-in. Old dress or new dress, flashy or dull, I'm not the main character on Sunday, or any day. I may find an opportunity to greet some visitors and certainly I'll sing praises.  There will most assuredly be someone there who warms my heart with a hug or a compliment. Most importantly, beneath my dull, old dress will be one who remembers

There's a time to give,

a time to take,

and a time to do little more

 than fade into the audience;

a grateful and unimportant bystander-

with a heart occupied by worship.