Tag Archives: godsgirlies

•

This is my sister's cat. I don't even know the cat's name (some sister I am….). Her cat had some kind of injury a month or so ago that caused her to adorn "the cone of shame". When I visited back in Spring Break, my sister filled me in on the details right before she rushed off to the vet appointment, but I don't remember the specifics. (-Remember, the whole I hit my head thing?). I had even forgotten about the cat until Wednesday. Oh Wednesday. It was a long day. By the end of it, I was hiding out. I'd told myself I just needed to settle down and not talk to anybody. Earlier in the day I'd said something unkind to someone; something out of character. I felt ashamed all day. I tried several things including trying to laugh it off and telling a friend, hoping they would convince me what I said wasn't that bad. But I knew that my words were both unnecessary and malicious and the fact that they weren't well thought-out only revealed the true nature of my heart.

My younger sister, Jennifer called Wednesday night just to chat. She told me a nightmare story about her misbehaving cat (who's still sportin' the cone of shame). You may think me a nut, but that cat visual was just what I needed. I made her promise to send me a picture of her feisty feline. Here it is. You're welcome.

unnamed (43)

 

It pains me to think of any creature wearing a cone of shame (also referred to as a 'pet lampshade' which sounds no better). It's rather ridiculous-looking for one thing. With it there's no peripheral vision; so isolating. And it's so BINDING. I can imagine it would make you feel swallowed up in your circumstances. It's worn to protect the animal. I get that.

The crazy thing is, I feel sorry for Jennifer's little cat (I've got to find out her name) for having to wear a cone of shame when I willingly volunteer to wear one myself every time I mess up. I speak unkindly. I behave selfishly. It's necessary for me to recognize that. But to wallow in shame is equally ridiculous to my friend with the lampshade. That poor cat has no choice. I however do. A choice that shouldn't be difficult to make. My bad decisions and shameful acts, however egregious, are no match for God's grace. His grace is more than enough to cover my sin.

The cone of shame I suspect most of us wear at some time, leads to more sin. Wearing it, we sometimes believe we're unlovable. We talk ourselves into thinking that what we did is unforgivable. Figuratively hiding out, we fail to be a blessing to others held back by the notion that we'll just mess up again. In the limited vision caused by the cone of shame, it's hard to see Jesus.

Our guilt binds us and blinds us to the freedom found in grace.

"Everything is permissible for me"—but not everything is beneficial. "Everything is permissible for me"—but I will not be mastered by anything . 1 Corinthians 6:12

Certainly we need to grow in our recognition and practice of things not beneficial; bad behavior and the like. But living in your shame is not beneficial. We must learn not to be mastered by it.

We all do plenty of things to be ashamed of. We can't fix what we've already done. We can only fix our eyes on the one who urges

Come and listen to my counsel. I'll share {MY} heart with you and make you wise (Prov. 1:23)

Afterall, the wisdom he lovingly offers is a garland of grace around our neck; a garland that reminds us we're loved. Wearing that garland makes us mindful of endless, matchless, grace. That knowledge produces gratitude. And it's with gratitude we strive to be better.

I'll take that over a cone of shame anytime.

 

 

• 1 Comment

•

I got this little jewel on a notecard some time this past summer. I think it was one morning when a little cranky girl and big cranky girl collided.

"I whant to star over",

the note begged. And I obliged, because we all want the chance to start again.

Do overs aren't always an option. I remember back in third grade, it was the end of the school year and we were about to have a trackmeet of sorts. The coach who was also our recess teacher impulsively told us girls, all five or six of us, to line up on the playground. He told us to run as fast as we could for about twenty yards to a concrete slab past the swings. I trucked it as fast as my little arms and legs would allow.

And I came in dead last.

The coach grabbed the first four that finished, fashioning the third and fourth grade sprint relay. My cousin looked at me disappointedly, so I told her I'd gotten a little tripped up (which may or may not have been a teeny lie). My champion defender, she told coach that we needed a do over....... to which he did not oblige. I think that may have been the dead-end of my dreams for a sprinting career.

Dead-Ends and the Chance to Begin Again

My dead-end, on a good day, comes around 9:00 PM. This morning the kids and I had to do a "start over" by 7:15 AM. Approximately five minutes after we had done a short devotion on the power of the Holy Spirit, I was reminded of the power of the will. I heard one kid yelling at the other to "Shut up" and one kid taunting another because they couldn't have Cookie Crisp for breakfast. By 7:18 we tried again to have breakfast peacefully and pleasantly (with the help of the Holy Spirit).

God offers "do overs".

Because we fail

We tire out

We get "a little tripped up".

Sometimes we find ourselves wishing we could start over. Or we want to quit altogether.

Grace-The gift of a new day

We don't have to look any farther than creation described in Genesis to see how God brought newness to space that was "formless and empty".  What I took particular notice of this time in reading these familiar verses on creation, was that God is in the business of separating things. On the first day, He separated light from darkness. The second day he separated the waters of the heavens from the waters of the earth. He called the expanse in between sky. It was the fourth day when God put light in the sky to separate the day and night.

Look at all the times the word separate is used.

Separate-cause to be apart. God gave us each day; one apart from the other.  Maybe the verse that sticks out the most is the fifth verse.

and evening passed and morning came, marking the first day.

Genesis 1:5

I'm thankful that evening passes. And that by His grace, morning ALWAYS comes.

This the day that the LORD has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24

It doesn't say a day or another day. Today is the day sisters and brothers. Where is your gladness? Are you going to rejoice?

A picture referencing Joshua hanging in my house says, Choose you this day whom you will serve…..

A life of praise is our goal, but a life of praise is built on our willingness to wake up each day making the choice to acknowledge Him. There will be many days we find ourselves unsuccessful in this endeavor even if we woke up with good intentions.

A new day gives us new opportunity to do what we failed to do yesterday; there's a new path springing from our dead-end. Sure a new day often brings with it consequences from yesterday and responsibilities waiting to meet you. But our momentary troubles pass us by, while the ceaseless love of Christ goes on.

-the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-24

So like they say, "Take the bull by the horns".

Carpe diem- Seize the day! The day is waiting.

The gift of twenty four hours is yours. What will you do with this grace gift?

• 8 Comments

•

 

I dropped the cap to a full gallon of bleach behind the washing machine this morning.  I don’t actually know how you can “drop” something behind a washing machine when you’re standing in front of it, but I did. I’m special like that.  Any thought of trying to retrieve it is ridiculous.  I’d be consumed by the world of fuzz back there, never to be seen again (kind of what December feels like right now).

Last night was Rylie’s Christmas program at church. I bought her a black sparkly sweater to wear.  After I safety-pinned it to make it fit right, we discovered that it was made from some “hyper”allergenic fiber.  She scratched herself silly during practice, but the sweater was there to stay

1. Because the red tank top underneath lacks the Christmas feel by itself

and more importantly

2. The threads in the sparkly black sweater were somehow wrapped around the curvy part at the end of the safety-pin….. (for life).

To make matters worse, she had one small duet part in the program to get right.  Two lines. We'd rehearsed.

Today we come singing out to you

Good news, great joy, Jesus is born.

How hard can that be?  But as we had our last quick rehearsal, what is Rylie doing during her part but playing with a small bead and uncurled paper clip she found on the floor.  She was deep in satisfaction. She was also in trouble. The wee moments before the program held no singing (from Rylie’s lips) and no great joy. And as has happened many times before with having three kids, I sent her off to what is supposed to be a happy memory-making time, tearful.

There’s no time I’m more aware of how things go wrong than during “the season”.

All is merry and bright.  What a crock.

Sure I smile at seen gestures of kindness and I enjoy the company of family and friends. There's nothing like the tastes of Christmas or the sounds of old familiar carols.

Both the wonderful and the blunderful seem magnified this time of year.

Shopping at the last minute, I get the shopping cart with the damaged wheel that clang clang clangs my cart slightly to the right.  Stern on not making Christmas about things, I pile the unnecessary into my basket. I overdo.  And I don't do enough.

I burn cookies and the soup I made for the neighbor gets old before I have time to deliver it.

Besides my usual blunders evident during the “all is bright” Christmas days, there are other things that cause me to get the Christmas blues. I lost my cousin and best friend twenty-two years ago, tomorrow, to a car wreck two weeks before I got my driver’s license and just weeks after she got hers.  Somehow the memory of her tragic death clouds part of the holidays.  I’m convinced that there are more deaths during December than any other month. The pain of loss isn't felt probably more strongly any other time than at Christmas. I can’t imagine not being able to spend Christmas with the ones I love, but there are a lot of you out there doing just that. That makes me hurt.

Jason and I have always been able to get the kids pretty much what they want for Christmas.  There’s usually not anything that they need.  That’s not the case with many.

Beyond the packed shoeboxes, random acts of kindness and wrapped angel tree gifts there’s a world of poverty and loneliness that we can’t even touch.

But life is wonderful

Not because “all is calm” in these harried days.

Life is wonderful because Christ came long ago and gave us the gift of hope; the foretaste of glory divine that is our’s forever through faith in Him. Hope can't be extinguished though sold-out Zoomer robot dogs or failed attempts at Christmas magic.

And with all our blunders and pains life is wonderful because Christ offers a peace that passes these things we can’t control nor understand.

Life is wonderful because Joy doesn’t cost “us” a thing.  Jesus offers deep contentment, if we’ll let Him, that exists in the midst of burned cookies, itchy sweaters and icy winds.

It’s a wonderful life because Christ came.  Immanuel.  He’s with us.  And he’s coming again.

In all of our blunders and  brokenness, life is wonderful because Christ is wonderful.

•

 

I believed the Little Drummer Boy was an actual participant at the birth of Jesus. Like, I'm talking when I was in High School I believed this. I should be embarrassed to share that, but oddly I'm not.  His attendance was never mentioned in the Bible and he's not one of ceramic figures in any manger scene I've ever beheld.

Still, words have been sung for the past fifty Christmases indicating his annual presence.Though I know he wasn't there at that first Christmas, I see him in a tattered red and blue outfit, offering what he has.  He's sort of a surprising figure because everybody else at the manger looks like they stepped off the pages of the Bible, as I imagine them in robes. But he joins them.

I am a poor boy too , pa rum pum pum pum,

 I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum,

That's fit to give a King, pa rum pum pum pum,

Rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum.

Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum

On my drum?

Every year there's a manger to remind us how a Holy Savior became small and approachable. Even a poor, small Drummer Boy is invited to his side.  The heavenly choir has already sang out and the wise men, in our story bear fine gifts year after year, but the stable holds room for more than these, and room for more than Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and livestock.  An odd picture, the sacred ground surrounding the newborn King is a place for the unworthy and the simple.  The Inn may have been crowded, but there's always a place at the manger.

We're invited, even if empty-handed.

But like the Drummer boy we know that a King like this is deserving of our offerings-

 like the gift of gratitude for a family and friends who love us

and the gift of joy expressed in a giggle when you take-out the garbage can (with your car)...for the sixth time

-A sigh paired with a smile when looking at a kitchen floor covered in Christmas cupcake crumbles

We come to the manger with the gift of awe that God allowed himself to be wrapped in a tiny bundle

though He's so much bigger than what we see.

We offer a contrite heart, full of things that don't matter

and we offer up a heart full of things that do

-Friends broken by loss and those we love who are bound with fear.

Strangely the giving of these burdens with the little faith we can muster is a gift to the King.

We come to the manger with moments of stillness aware that among the hustle and bustle, the one work that had to be done

began on Earth some two-thousand Christmases ago.

We're invited to come, and come often, to the manger this season. There's room.  And whether we have some extravagant thing to bring or something simple, may our hearts beat in rhythm with the Drummer boy who offers, but more importantly is captivated by a little King who makes room for us all.

•

 

........Think about this

Try to keep a bird from singing after it's soared up in the sky

Give the sun a cloudless day and tell it not to shine

Anybody remember this old Steven Curtis Chapman song?
This was one of his upbeat songs in the nineties that I probably blasted in the car contributing to the hearing loss I have now.

image

Jason and I worked out this morning. We've been faithful to go to the gym even when we don't feel like it. We've been eating healthy for a week too. We've steered clear of wheat; a goal we sat for ourselves last week.

There has been a frosting on the cake (that we haven't eaten).  This week has been full of old friends. We celebrated a friend's entrance to glory and remembered a life lived for God. Last night Jason and I had a fabulous date night. This summer is ending knowing that I spent more time with my family than I did on laundry and dishes.  Rylie shared the best news possible.

I've learned how to better live on something other than "bread alone".  I must admit, I'm feeling pretty good. Those of you who know me,  have heard me complain on a regular basis though I've learned to try to throw in a jovial Ha Ha to make light my admissions of misery.

Just as I share my faults and failures, mishaps and other gripes, I should likewise be sharing a joy I'm finding undeniable. 

Today I am.

While I was on the rowing machine this morning I had my headphones plugged in. I typically only jam on the inside. But this morning I couldn't help it. I began to hum "Dreams"  by the Cranberries:

I know I've felt like this before

But now I'm feeling it even more

Because it came from you

The music in me had to come out.

Typically I only sing out loud in the kitchen, or beside somebody with good harmony at church, or in the car (when I'm not at a red light).  I contain myself, fearful that I won't sound good; hesitant that someone might not appreciate my singing. I'm reserved. Other times I'm too tired to sing; too distracted to even listen to the words.

Today the shuffle on my Ipod played some of the best songs.  I realized that though my sound may not always be sweet, there are some songs that are always worth singing.  Somehow I understood that my singing shouldn't be about me being perceived as awkward or off-key, for I am not ashamed.  Some songs are meant to be turned up and sung out.

I sing with Steven Curtis Chapman:

Think about this

If we really have been given the gift of life that will never end

And if we have been filled with living hope,

we're gonna overflow

And if God's love is burning in our hearts, we're gonna glow

There's just no way to keep it in

There's a soul-spilling song within us.  Let's sing it out loud.

photo (13)

But if I say, "I will not remember Him or speak anymore in His name," Then in my heart it becomes like a burning fire shut up in my bones; And I am weary of holding it in, And I can not endure it. Jeremiah 20:9