Monthly Archives: March 2011

New Every Morning

Used with permission

My thoughts have been turned inward lately.  Not in a prideful way.  As the Lord brings to light the hurting places in my heart, those things that I have kept behind closed doors, away from his grace and mercy, I get overwhelmed.  I am becoming more aware of my brokenness and of my need of Him and His restoring grace.  I lack.  I want.  I desire.  He alone can fill the cracks, those voids deep inside my heart.

As the Lord brings deep and personal revelation of my constant need of Him, I can tend to focus too much on what I can’t see and I forget to focus on His free gifts of grace and mercy, which allow me to move on into places of freedom.

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Life Goes On . . . Whether I Say So or Not

Right now, I am writing this post from my balcony overlooking the beautiful beaches of Destin, Florida. The stage is set with umbrellas still folded neatly, the waves crashing in and out, and the sounds of children playing in the distance. It’s still morning, too early to endure the harsh reality of having to read on the beach all day, right?

While everything is neat and picturesque around me, I am not. My heart has been turned inside out this entire trip. I have cried more on this beach trip than the already overflowing coastline deserves.

I have forced myself to turn off the intoxicating media all around me.

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I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy….

…down in my heart….where?

I look over and see Elijah’s breakfast of cereal and rice chex get bumped over and slowly watch as the milk drips down to the floor covering everything in it’s sticky path.

…down in my heart…where?

The stack of papers and mail for me to go through has now filled the “to do” box.  I see the bills peeking out, along with invites to respond to, and memos. It feels like too much.

…down in my heart…where?

Not again. It feels like I’ve been dealing with bad attitudes all day. Defiance and crankiness seem to be reigning.

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Please Stand Still

I did not need my seven year old to tell me she was irritated with me. The exasperated sigh. The slumped shoulders. The begrudging shuffle into the bathroom. They were obvious indicators of her less than cheery attitude.

Undeterred, I set about our morning ritual. With a bottle of detangler, a hairbrush, and a blow-dryer, I worked to get Katie’s unruly hair to calm down and look presentable for school. But that particular morning, she wanted nothing to do with our routine.

Why do we have to do this every day?,” she questioned with great dramatic flair and lots of sighing.

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Three Minutes and Thirty Seconds

Three minutes and thirty seconds. That was it.

You might be more understanding if this story started with a number like three hours or even thirty minutes, but no. Three minutes and thirty seconds was all I had to wait for my waist watchers frozen dinner to cook.

But I couldn’t wait. Each second staggered and clung to the one before it, mocking my empty stomach. I walked to the pantry just to browse. There before me on the shelf at eye level was a bag of cheap-o cookies. They didn’t even look appealing but I ate one anyway. I did have that whole three minutes and thirty seconds to wait.

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Holding Out for Fast Food

“I don’t want anything,” pouted our 8 year old as we were about to order. He wanted to go to Taco Bell and wasn’t happy when we opted for a classic breakfast place instead.

I’ve heard these words in the past, and generally ignore them and order something anyway, knowing the boy will cave once everyone else is served. But this particular mood of his was more definite than others, and I decided to let him have what he wanted (or didn’t want, as the case may be).

As I prepped his younger brother’s pancakes, the fragrance of the buttery goodness made me feel a little badly for him as he moped from across the table.

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Walking In The Light

As a mother, I teach my children to always be honest.  I have become very good at being able to tell when they are not telling the truth, or when I’m only getting part of the story.  I try to instill in them the importance of going to someone they may have hurt to ask forgiveness; or, at times, going to God with the sin that is in their  hearts.  Today, my 7 year old son taught me a valuable lesson.

I was assisting in the Children’s Equipping Center today during church.  Our Children’s Pastor was walking the children through an exercise of confessing the things that were hidden in their hearts. 

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And What Are You Going to Give Me?

“This one’s for Colin.” My daughter mumbled through the candy in her mouth and thrust a tightly gripped root beer lollipop my way. “That’s nice of you,” I bragged and pulled her free hand through the crowded halls at church to make our way towards her brother’s classroom.

I stuck my head in the door of room E-103 and motioned for my son to come. He appeared with his own small candy bag and held out one yellow, sour Skittle for his sister. I smiled at his generosity and applauded myself for teaching my children to share with each other. No one was forced to save candy for the other.

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