To God Be the Glory

To God be the Glory was the only thing I could say today. And not because great and glorious things were happening. In fact, quite the opposite was occurring.

Something that I care a great deal about, that I have invested much time and energy into seemed to be threatened by the enemy. You know, that old garden enemy that slithereth around and wreaketh havoc.

And the enemy's attack came right after a tremendous weekend of renewal and reminder that I serve a victorious Lord. Just when I should have suspected an ambush, I was too busy basking in glow and moving ahead with *my* plans.

So he came, he struck, he bruised.

I cried, I prayed, I sang.

He came, He died, He lives.

Enemy, watch out. He holds the keys to your destruction, and I still serve Him.

Knowing Whom you believe means you can confidently, even if out of tune, sing "To God Be the Glory!"

"I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between her offspring and your offspring; He shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise His heel." Genesis 3:15

What my children have taught me about God

Jules over at Everyday Mommy is hosting a writing contest for moms on the topic "what my children have taught me about God." Easily that topic could be the fodder for numerous entries when I consider daily the ways these future greats humble me before my Father. When I have to discipline, I'm reminded that He disciplines those whom He loves. When I have a good gift to give them, I'm reminded that He always gives good gifts. When I hurt over a pain in their lives, physical or emotional, I'm reminded that He knows all the sorrows known to me. When I am impatient, I'm reminded that He is everlastingly patient with me.

As you can see, I could go on and on simply because the topic and its lessons are in daily operation for this mom of future greats. So when actually trying to distill the lessons down into an essay I thought mostly about how God even made me a mom. Me--the woman who didn't want to get married and certainly didn't want to have children. Me--selfishly ambitious for the tinsel of the world instead of the treasures of the Kingdom. All of that is it's own story by itself, but I'm humbled again at just remembering the ways the Potter has had to mold this lump of clay called Me.

Anyway, I write all that to say that being a mom has been both better and harder than anything or any other career that I could have taken. I'm awed that God chose me to be a mom, and I'm infinitely thankful that not only has He used the process to teach me about Himself but that He continues to teach me through these precious lives. The following is my essay.

My children have taught me much about God and the way He graciously operates in this world for the sake of His people. God has blessed me with four boys and daily their lives remind me of God's presence, promise, provision and providence. Here is some of their story.

My first child taught me about the presence of God. James was born into my presence in 1994. He was arguably the most beautiful child I had ever seen. He became ill at 3 months old. The next two and a half years were spent in and out of hospitals, in and out of treatments against a genetic disease that robbed him of developmental skills, health and a "normal" life. But disease was never able to deprive him of love or laughter or the preciousness of life. James was born into the presence of God in 1996. During his difficult two and a half years, I struggled with God as Jacob did, pleading for a blessing for my son, for myself. I cried out for His mercy on my son, on myself. I railed against the genetic curse on my son, on myself. And when James took his last breath in my arms, I knew and yearned for that very presence of God. Heaven and its promise has all fullness and imperishable understanding for me as I consider its glory and hope. James taught me to yearn for my true home, in the presence of God.

My second child taught me about the promise of God. Nate came into my life in 1997. He was born at only 28 weeks, weighing 2 pounds, 11 ounces and only 14 1/2 inches long. He was arguably the tiniest baby I had ever seen. We adopted Nate only 9 months after James' death and every detail of his adoption was handcrafted by God to the tiniest degree. From the first moments of seeing him, holding him, I was continually reminded by God's words "Thus says the Lord, your Redeemer, who formed you from the womb: 'I am the Lord, who made all things, who alone stretched out the heavens, who spread out the earth by myself," that all God's promises are true. Nate's full name is Nathanael for Philip's friend who wondered if anything good could have come from Nazareth. Nate has indeed taught me that the ultimate and greatest good not only came from Nazareth but He still lives today, keeping His promises to His people to the tiniest degree. Nate teaches me to live like a child of God, trusting in the promises of God.

My third child taught me about the provision of God. Matthew came into my life in 2000. He was arguably the oldest baby I had ever seen at 26 months old with a head full of curly hair and a past just as full of chaotic details. We adopted Matthew after having tried to adopt unsuccessfully for 2 years. Every event of Matthew's life has taught me that in the provision of God, I am not forgotten. He is continually at work sanctifying me and removing the years that the locusts have eaten. He is not finished with me and by His word provides the transformation that I need to be fully His child. Matthew's name means "gift of God," and he teaches me even by his own difficulties, that the provision of God is always that of good and precious gifts.

My fourth child taught me about the providence of God. Samuel came into my life in 2001. He was arguably the most surprising baby I had ever seen because he was born to me when I thought that pregnancy was impossible and genetic disease too probable. Samuel was born without the genetic disease that stole the life of his brother, James. During my pregnancy I had prayed with the fervor of Hannah that this child's life be spared and God did indeed grant me what I had asked of Him. While I learned that prayer is both for my obedience and blessing, God also taught me about His real and majestic sovereignty. With James, the answer to prayer was his eventual death, and the answer to prayer with Samuel was his life unaffected by the genetic disease, and it is only God who has the power to answer thus with any person. Through Samuel He continues to teach me that above all, He alone reigns supreme to do as He wills with His sons and daughters for His glory and their good.

Presence, promise, provision and providence--all of my children have taught me much of God and His love for His children. May I continue to be a child at His feet, learning from the precious ones He has given me for my blessing and inheritance.

"Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it." Luke 18:17

Good day....Bad day?

Bad day: could not pull myself out of bed to exercise like I needed to today. Chalked it up to the pain in my left heel. Bad excuse.

Good day: checking email and received an email from the past from a dear friend reconnecting. How exciting and sweet it was! Plus some other emails from friends reminding me that God is still in control. Good moment.

Bad day: felt unfocused and overwhelmed with all that has to be accomplished in the next week before school starts and other responsibilities. Bad organization.

Good day: future greats went right to playing with one another happily so that I could work on some of the pile on my desk. Good sons.

Bad day: lost my temper with future greats whose playing quickly degenerated into tsunami like behavior with millions of little pieces of Legos, K'Nex, Star Wars and assorted other things. Bad lecture.

Good day: everyone refocused on positive stewardship of toys and time and cooperation with one another to accomplish some household chores. Good work.

Bad day: while future greats profitably engaged, the Blue Duke of Disaster, et al. the cat, jumped onto the dining room table and knocked over an entire bottle of water to flood dozens of very important registration cards needed for upcoming Bible study. Bad frustration.

Good day: oldest future great jumped in to help me sort out wet cards onto paper towels scattered all over dining room and put up a small fan to help them dry. Good thought.

It's only 2:19 EST. I'm exhausted and wondering what the verdict of the day will be by tonight.

Psa 138:7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive me: thou shalt stretch forth thine hand against the wrath of mine enemies, and thy right hand shall save me.
Psa 138:8 The LORD will perfect that which concerneth me: thy mercy, O LORD, endureth for ever: forsake not the works of thine own hands.

Just the laugh I needed

I don't know who wrote this gem of an essay about public restrooms but I received it in an email today from a friend. Somehow she must have known I needed a belly laugh like this one. Thanks, friend. Hope you enjoy it as well.


Public Restrooms..........


When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of
women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn,
you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman
leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't
matter.

The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's mom, no
doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook,
if there were one, but there isn't - - so you carefully, but quickly,
drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put
it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance." In
this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd
love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat
or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance." To take your mind
off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the
EMPTY toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mom's
voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have
KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more. You remember
the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's
still in your purse. That would have to do. You crumple it in the
puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than your thumbnail.


Some one pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn't work. The
door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your
chest, and you and your purse topples backward against the tank of the
toilet. "OCCUPIED!" you scream, as you reach for the door dropping your
precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your
footing altogether, and slide down directly on the TOILET SEAT. It is
wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.
Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life
form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper -
not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know your
mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain,
her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, "frankly,
dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get." By this
time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that
it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose that somehow
sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet
paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At that point, you
give up.

You are soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're
exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket
and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. Now, you can't figure
out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe
your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of
women still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the
very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from
your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from
your shoe, plunk it into the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here,
you just might need this."

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and
left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and
why is your purse hanging around your neck?"

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restroom
(REST??? - You've got to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men
what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly
asked question about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the
other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex
under the door !!!!!!