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To the tender-hearted; those who hurt deep for the broken , and to the mamas and dads who would move mountains for your children, and for the plain-old stubborn "fixers"....this is for you ( and me, REALLY me)

 

I sit here with a screw driver, a broken toy and my typical determination.  I will fix this.

The kids got gift cards for Christmas.  I took them shopping this past Saturday to spend them.  Rylie wanted a giant stuffed dog, but instead I talked her into a small remote-controlled princess carriage/boat.  The boat made one excursion in the bathtub before it ceased its moving.  Jason and I worked Sunday to get it going again.  We turned it off and on at least twelve times and checked the batteries. It was when Jason shook the small toy that he could hear that the inner parts of the toy were somehow disconnected.

Being the persistent girl that I am, I started in again this morning.  With screw driver in hand, I proceeded to take the tiny boat apart.  If I could get inside, surely I could connect the parts that had somehow become disassembled.  No such luck. The toy was built so that it couldn't be taken apart.  The toy sits in front of me as a symbol of frustration and disappointment.

  I want to fix it.

I will work until I fix it.

I won't rest until I fix it.

I will hurt until its fixed.

This is my approach to broken things and broken loved-ones.  

I haven't fixed the toy boat and yet this time, I've allowed it to remain in my sight unfixed.  In the stillness I hear a whisper......  You can't fix everything

Sometimes you're just not strong enough

My brokenness isn't about just me and you

You CAN'T fix me just right-there's something broken in a deep place that you can't reach

and by trying, you become worn out and defeated often forgetting THE fixer, the healer

Put down your tools.  Cease your working.  Rest in Him who heals.  Trust that He is at work in the broken, including you.

...not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of hosts

 Zechariah 4:6

Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us,.... to Him be the glory

 Ephesians 3:20, 21b

All that is broken belongs to Jesus

 

 

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This is a  devotion/activity that would be a great activity for families or Sunday School too. 

Items needed:

Necco Conversation Hearts (Sweethearts)                 Activity Sheet

Bibles                                                                                  Pens or markers

Devotion below  

Conversation Hearts -Devotion

Have you ever tasted the chalky candies you get only around Valentine's Day; you know, the colored hearts that say things like "Luv Ya" or "You Rock" and "Be Mine"?  Sweethearts, or Conversation hearts have been around for years, like over a hundred years.

Some of the hearts from the earlier times  had sayings like  "Sweet Talk" and "Dig Me".

These candy messages go out of style, and so every year the candy makers print new messages.  In the past few years you might have seen the words

Dream

Honey Bun

Melt My Heart

Chill Out

Text Me

LOL

(Allow the children to read a few messages on the candy)

There are a few things the candy makers, Necco, keep in mind when writing on candy hearts.

 

*Nothing rude or distasteful should go on the candies

*Only a few words will fit on each candy (no more than 3)

 

Ok, let' s hear it.  What message in one, two or three words would you put on candy hearts if the candy company called you up and asked?

While it would be fun if you got a phone call from the candy-making headquarters putting you in charge of this year's messages, it matters little what the candy hearts say on them.  Why?  Because they're eaten right after you read their message; some of you might not even take the time to read them at all.

Human hearts aren't quite the same. What is written on our hearts is of great importance.  God tells us:

 Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.  Proverbs 3:3

 

Our hearts are like tablets

and YOU get to write words on your heart,......God told you to.

 Where would be the right place to find good words for your heart's tablet?  What are two good words mentioned in the verse above? (read verse again)

1. Love

2. Faithfulness

Remember that God's word, the Bible, is the best place to find words to be written on your heart.  But don't forget, others write on our hearts too; sometimes beautiful words and other times words that hurt.  Surround yourself with people who write good words on your heart.  There are adults all around you dying to write messages of love on your hearts.  There's plenty of room; let them.

 

Activity:

Take a piece of printer paper. Fold a piece of paper long-ways and write candy heart messages on one side and God's messages on the other side. I found these Conversation Heart stickers in the Target Dollar Section (love that place).  For a dollar, you get more than a hundred stickers.  These brightened up the page and made it easier for the younger ones who are still slow writers.

1.On the left side write a few of the messages found on Necco candy hearts .

2. On the right side, write in a few one or two-word messages that God would have you write on your heart. Ex. "Grace"  "Pray 4 Others"

Here are a few verses if you need help:

But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you,  Psalm 130:4

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control....Galatians 5:22, 23b

Now use your bible and find a few others.

After the activity:

Discuss in group

We know we can't reach in with a pen or marker and write on our actual heart.  What does it mean to write God's commandments and words on our hearts? (wait for answer)

 Did you also notice that Proverbs 3:3 and other verses tell us to bind God's words (commandments) around our necks.  When we put something, like a necklace, around our neck, it goes with us wherever we go.  God wants us to carry His words with us.  He wants His words and His message to be in our hearts and to be shown to others.

Which messages don't go out of style, candy hearts or God's messages?

How can having these messages (or words) written on your heart change

the way you talk to others?

the way you treat others?

the way you live?

Close in prayer.
 
Let's Stay Connected


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Bookmarks come in different shapes and sizes; from the "23rd Psalm bookmark topped with a tassel, to a makeshift bookmark made of a torn piece of paper.  I've even used an HEB receipt to mark a place.  Regardless, bookmarks serve a  purpose.

A bookmark holds a place; one worth coming back to. Bookmarks are placed at important parts.

Bookmarking may only be thought to mark places in books.  Rylie taught me otherwise last night.

As she got into bed, she yelled across the hall.

"Mom, would you make me a lunch in the morning?  And would you put one of those notes that you make in there too?

I like to use those as bookmarks!

..........in my heart!"

Sweet words with a big reminder.  Many, if not most of the things we say to our children (and to others) will be forgotten, if they're heard at all.  But I believe that it's those words that spring forth from our hearts, that are marked.  They hold deep meaning though we may be unaware.

Those heart-expressed words can't always be seen by a look at the book's cover.  That doesn't mean that my love hasn't found its way within.  For me, that's a peace-giving thought.

Rylie is the only one now who would dare accept one of the "lunch notes" I lovingly make with dashed borders and always with hearts. Those notes are in past chapters for Hayden and Hallie.  Still, my heart is warmed.

Maybe those words of love are bookmarked .......in their hearts.

What you say matters.

What you do matters.

Do everything in love. 1 Corinthians 16:14

 

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As I stood before the bathroom mirror getting ready for today, I noticed that I was gently swaying back and forth in rocking motion.

Before you think me peculiar, I'll share that just yesterday I held a sweet 8 month old baby girl in my arms.  She was exhausted.  So I rocked her.  I stood by the glass door looking into our back yard and I and shifted my weight from one foot to the other in rhythm as I held her in the crook of my arms, her eyes heavy.

Maybe that's why I rocked today.

But it so happens that as I was preparing my hair and makeup today, I was thinking on some pretty heavy things; happenings that have my soul knotted. I had no sweet baby in my arms.  On the contrary, I suspect today I was the weary child.  As I swayed,  I can't help but think that I was the one being "rocked".  And as warm air from the blow dryer rushed though my hair, I felt a song course through my soul.

Rock of Ages.

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

 Let me hide myself in Thee

- A song I've heard countless times and sadly I tell you I haven't thought much about the meaning of these aged words.  What does "cleft for me" even mean?  To me, Rock of Ages has been another hymn which has had its sacred place in the hymnal- nice and tucked away in a pew back.

Today I searched for the complete lyrics and came across a picture of Burrington Combe, a limestone gorge in England.  There is a cleft in the rock that has been named Rock of Ages. Legend has it that the composer of our hymn, Augustus Montague, wrote the powerful lyrics while hiding in its shelter during a storm.

True or not, this legend is a beautiful picture of our "Rock of Ages".  He is the strong one who cradles us in the crook of His mighty arms. It's there we find a resting place, and a place to hide.   And he rocks us gently through the storm.

Today I heard a lullaby sweet and low- Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee.  It gave me rest.  My storm is small, but my heart breaks for those in raging storms.  And I am compelled to pray.  I pray that the "Rock of Ages" would be their shelter from the storm; a place of rest for the weary soul.

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I wasn't planning on writing this morning; it's a busy day.  Still, there are heavy questions that I'm posing to readers today.

A question came to me while I was speeding to the school this morning in my Christmas tree pajama bottoms and pancake batter splotched t-shirt.  I was bringing basketball shorts to a certain someone who apparently forgot them and needed them in a hurry.

I passed three cops while I drove 24mph, dangerously above the school zone speed limit. As I risked being ticketed in my night clothes, I thought about the varied outcomes of rescue. I wondered to myself, how far will we go to rescue our kids.  Many of you may have a straightforward answer.  I've shared that I'm an over thinker.  This is another area where I find myself struggling in my indecision.

I think we all would agree that we would go to great lengths to rescue our children in any situation where we know they need rescuing.  If they're in danger of being harmed........,  we rescue- no question about that.

How far SHOULD we go to rescue our kids?

What about those times when our children have been negligent and irresponsible?  At what point do we let them learn from their mistakes?

And even other times when it is no fault of their own that our children face consequences, are there times when we allow our children the opportunity to grow  through adversity?  If someone like a teacher or another child treats ours unfairly is it always the right thing to arrive on the scene in our super-mom cape (or festive pajamas)?

Grace can be shown in rescue.  It can also be shown in loving support in the aftermath of mistakes.   I know if it were me making the mistake?........I'd choose the rescue.

Today I just have questions, no answers.  As my children are aging, I'm coming to terms with the fact that the grip I have on my children is weakening.  I can't and shouldn't always save them, but when should I?  I'm coming to the realization that my grip on God is one in need of growing stronger.  In increasing times that "I don't know" when to step in or allow them space, my prayer life is busier than ever.

Experience and wisdom are meant to be shared.  I would be over the moon happy to hear of examples from you

  •  where you rescued, or did not
  •  and what the outcome was.
kristiburden@gamil.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Another GG's Event:

Conversation Hearts

*Ignore the "Hottie" heart in the picture above.  It's not supposed to be there. And in the case that you didn't see it, ignore what I just said......

Sunday, January 27

3:30-5:00

Edu 102

Geared toward girls in first through seventh

Bring your mom, an aunt or grandma

Invite a friend

 Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.  Proverbs 3:3 

Girls in fifth through seventh will spend special time with their mentor for devotion and prayer.  Ms Jeanne and Krista have cooked up a cool craft too.  If you haven't been assigned one, no worries-we'll fix you up.  All girls will be reminded that it's God's love we are to write on our hearts.  While some "love" isn't really love at all, God's love is a love that stays and it's a love worth sharing.

 

Please pray

If you're not of the right age or geography to join our GG's gatherings please pray for us:

Pray that our group would grow as God would have it grow.

Pray for these girls as they face pre-teen growing pains.

Pray for us moms as we seek to both guide by conviction and serve as a soft place in a sometimes hard world. Pray that we would grow in our trust that God is growing our children. 

Ultimately pray that glory would be brought to God through God's Girlies.

Want to know more about GG's?  Click on "Just for GG's" on the side menu or read "How GG's got Started" - http://kristiburden.com/?p=1813

Have questions?  Send me an email kristiburden@gmail.com


 

					

		
		
	

							
	

				

						

				
				
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We make mistakes; some are big ones- the kind that stop you in your tracks.  Parenting missteps are unavoidable.  There is no perfect parenting.  The success of parenting, I'm learning (painfully slow I might add), is more about our response to our parenting missteps.




My missteps range from not providing clean matching socks to allowing my children unnecessary exposure to the ungodly to downright being a fire-breathing dragon. The mistakes are varied and great in number, but my response is typically one of the following.


1. Groan in guilt  I focus on how I've messed up "this time", but I also replay each and every past parenting failure over and over....and over.


2. Dissolve into despair  I consider how I might just have ruined the forever happiness of my children.  I lament at how I've led them on a path leading to anything but a bright or right future.


3. Ignore... Some of my mistakes seem too hard to fix.  They're too daunting to even think about.........  So I don't.


4.* Fix one misstep with another I can't count the dollars and time spent trying to pay for my mistakes.  An apology given or an ice cream date as an offering to my mess-up is fine.   However it's not a fix on its own; especially if it's accompanied by #1, #2 or #3.


These are unhealthy responses rather than a course of action.  By only wallowing in guilt and despair, by remaining in purposed oblivion, NOTHING WILL CHANGE.  It's as if I'm staying right where I've fallen.  My smart husband and I recently gave myself a pep talk.  I was reminded that the greatest guiding force in my parenting will be prayer.  Three other things I'm determined to remember?


Wallowing is doing nothing.


It's not too late to do what I can do today.


It's too early to worry about tomorrow.


Parent shoes are big shoes to fill.  Thankfully we have a God that fills the spaces and forgives our falls.


What is your default response to a misstep?


kristiburden@gmail.com


 


 


 

					

		
		
	

							
	

				

						

				
				
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Practice makes perfect?


Maybe.


I've taught Reading for years.  Watching kids emerge into fluent readers is one of the most exciting things I've been privileged to witness.


One loved reading activity is fluency building using a bar graph. I had the coolest graph for my students. You have the child read to you for one minute.  They then chart the number of words read in that minute. You have them begin again, reading the same material with the expectation that they will get a little farther in the next minute. They chart the number of words read for that minute. The idea is that the more times you read, the more fluently you will read.  The kids love it. They see their bars on their word graph grow before their very eyes.


Usually.

My kid didn't love it. In fact I remember us both being flabbergasted because his number not only didn't get higher, his reading rate dropped in subsequent readings.  Not one to give up easily, after repeated readings he and I both wanted to pull our hair out.


Determination lead to doom.


Practice didn't make perfect. Practice, on its own frustrated.  It flaunted failure.  Ultimately I remember having to put the book and graph down along with my pride.   Certainly practice requires something more.


Grace.


Grace isn't impressed by the world's standards and it isn't frustrated by failure. Grace hits where we miss.  Where we are limited, God's grace is limitless.


Each time he said, "My grace is all you need.  My power works best in weakness." So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. - 2 Corinthians 12:9


Practice doesn't make perfect; God's grace does.

					

		
		
	

							
	

				

						

				
				
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Have you ever heard someone pray and wished that your prayers sounded like theirs?  I have.  I have a friend from our first church who prays beautifully. Her prayers sound like she reads them from a book.  Talking to God sounds like she's talking to a friend, but at the same time her words roll eloquently.  There are no awkward pauses; no fumbling over her words.  (She can sing and play the piano too.  No fair.)


 


When I pray out loud, often I can feel my brow furrowing in stress.  Even my best praying is distracted.  It can be difficult to get the sentiment of my heart to come out.  When I'm ill-natured, I wonder if my sentiment shouldn't just stay in.  There are labor pains at the expelling of my words.  There is often deafening silence.  I often say amen with my joy or pain still deep within my chest.


I wish my prayers were pretty.  God deserves pretty prayers with beautiful words confidently spoken.  But I know that if I only prayed pretty, I'd pray little.  There are so many times I don't know what to say. Sometimes I feel too angry to pray. Then there are those dark moments when I'm near disbelief that God will answer.  


I just read part of 1 Samuel chapter I.  It was just what I needed today.  I was reminded to pray; even when my uttering is unintelligible or down-right ugly.  God can handle it.


I read about Hannah.  You remember Hannah don't you; one of the female heroes of the Bible that people name their daughters after?  She was barren and she was being provoked by the "other woman" who had a slew of children.  She was also fed-up.  I feel a little nervous using those words, but I think she was.  It says:


In bitterness of soul Hannah wept much and prayed to the LORD. -1 Samuel 1:10


" In bitterness of soul"?  - that doesn't sound like a very nice way to pray.  Not only was she fed-up, but I'm gathering that she didn't sound too eloquent due to the fact that the priest thought she was drunk.


Bet you know the end of the story.  She has a child and dedicates him to the LORD just as she vowed she would do.  She names him Samuel.  In case you didn't know, Samuel means God hears.  He hears you when your fed up and when your soul is barren.  Even when your prayer doesn't make sense or when dark emotion comes with your words.


He hears.


He knows.


 ......the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.  Romans 8:26b


He understands.


 


 


 

					

		
		
	

							
	

				

						

				
				
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Silence.  It's ironic to talk about it.  But I will.


It may come as no surprise that I like to talk.


I remember a grueling silence my first year of teaching.  I had witnessed a situation involving a fellow teacher and an administrator's son. In question was a refused bird house entry into a contest. I was the key witness in the matter.


The principal sat with his fist neatly folded as he looked at me from the other side of his desk stone-faced.  I told what I had observed.  As I finished, he stared, wordless.  My mind quickly raced.  (Was I leaving out any important information? Was he wanting my opinion?) He continued his gaze while I squirmed in the nothingness.  And then I did what any normal person would do.  I started relaying the same account; again.


He cut me off about twenty seconds into my replay,  "You don't have to talk.  I heard you the first time".


No words have caught me quite off-guard like those words.  It's fourteen years later and I remember that conversation (if that's what you call it).  Of course it hasn't stopped me from telling and retelling even life's mundane events; sharing my thoughts on things earth shattering to the trivial.  My Dad has said my mom and I take longer to tell things than the actual event.


I talk too much when I'm nervous.


And I talk too much when I'm perfectly comfortable.


Because of my incessant talking, I listen too little.


Do you see a man who is hasty in his words? There is more hope for a fool than for him. -Proverbs 29:20  Youch!!! (exclamation and emphasis mine)


A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion.  -Proverbs 18:2


My prayer?  I don't exactly know;  I'm trying to say less. I simply know that anything God has to say, holds more value than my babbling and even my most thought-out words.  I want to learn to be silent.  And in the silence I want to hear.


I can't get out of my mind a time when I let silence speak.  A young woman I had never met, lost her four-year old son in a drowning accident.  He was in Hallie's Pre-K class.  Jason did the funeral.  I had rehearsed, as I often do, what I would say to her given the chance.  Those attending, exited by the casket to give their condolences to the grief-stricken woman. I knew that I had nothing to say though my heart ached for her.  So I simply grabbed her hand and held it for what seemed like eternity. It was one of the most powerful moments of my life.  In the silence God spoke for me.  He spoke to me.  That moment speaks to me still.


When have you been spoken to in the silence?