We arrive at the library…ah, my place of refuge—my safe haven. I scan the rows of books, smiling. Quickly my three young girls remind me of their presence. They tug on my jacket until I lead them beyond the heavenly realm into the not so heavenly children’s section. I agree they all can pick out five books. I help the littlest one with her books. So far—a good visit. If all goes well I might get a chance to browse the new fiction books.
We head directly there. I’m on a mission. I breathe in the new titles, opening some to read first lines.
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Do not fret because of evil men or be envious of those who do wrong . . . Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:1,3-4
I decided to look up the definition of the word fret: 1. worry: to be worried, irritated, or agitated about something; wear away: to wear away or corrode the surface of something, or become worn away or corroded make hole by constant rubbing:
Are you a fretter? Can you turn thoughts over and over in your mind looking at them from every imaginable angle?
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For a number of years I experienced the same dream again and again. It was never frightening; I just never understood its importance. Several nights each week I would find myself dwelling in a very large home. There were many beautiful rooms and friends and family often came to visit. The confusing part for me was that each time I had this dream, no matter what the house looked like, there were always rooms with locked doors and no one was allowed to enter them.
After many repetitions of this dream, I began praying about its meaing. Finally the Lord revealed to me that this large home was like my heart.
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“DON’T JUST EAT THE MARSHMALLOWS!” I print this on a banner and wave it madly over the breakfast table. Every time I buy Lucky Charms, it’s the same. The kids beg to eat it and then pick out the fluffy sugary sweetness and leave the cute oat shapes floating aimlessly in the bowl. You would think that I’d wise up and quit buying it. But as I decidedly march down the cereal aisle looking for healthy, low-sugar, proves-I’m-a-good-mom cereal, there he is. His cute little leprechaun face luring me in – promising gold at the end of the rainbow and before I know it I’m in the check out line with yet another box of Lucky Charms.
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Saturday night was rough. I held hair back. I washed sheets. I listened as my daughter told me she hopes she gives me the flu. Yes, she said those words.
“I hope I give this to you.”
I laughed at the time, but wasn’t laughing so hard the next day when I doubled over with stomach pains. The whole experience reminds me of what I once heard a pastor share. He explained how Jesus coming to earth was in some ways the equivalent of a parent caring for a sick child. *Excuse the graphic example, but trust me I have a point.
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This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24
I am sitting in my office gazing out at yet another cold rainy day in the Midwest. I have a full day of writing ahead of me leaving me little time to play.
One of my assignments for today is writing a post for the Woman’s Day Happiness Blog, and truthfully, my level of happiness is feeling a little less than inspiring at the moment.
Wait a minute! It’s not about me. It’s not about the weather. It’s not about my circumstances.
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I hear that often from my 4 year old. If, in the course of a conversation, I happen to share a tidbit of knowledge that he’s heard before, I get a teen-sounding, eye-rolling, “I KNOW that!” Frankly, after the first time (where it was surprising and amusing), I find it more than a little annoying.
They say we’re most annoyed by traits in others that we also possess. I’m sure that over the course of my life various people have considered me a ‘know-it-all.’ They might not have said it out loud, but considering my own motives at various times, it must have been thought.
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Come near to God and he will come near to you. James 4:8 NIV
“Come back here!” I scolded my son as he darted across the Wal-mart parking lot.
“But, Mommy I almost caught one,” he told me, referring to the tiny birds always found hopping between the cars looking for cast-off French fries and other tasty morsels. I watched as my seven-year-old crept closer and closer to the bird standing next to our oil covered wheels.
Step. Step. Step.
“Aww, man.” He wasn’t fast enough. The bird darted away in search of a safer place to glean.
Do you ever feel like my son?
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