It is a Sunday morning during church.
I watch my little girl coloring a page from her coloring book on the floor in my living room. We have a little house church so it is very casual and as I watch her I notice she colors the grass green, the sky blue, and the sun yellow.
I can’t help but wonder why she didn’t color the grass pink or purple, the sky red, or the sun green?
Because, she knows that is not the reality of nature.
She consistently sees grass green, the sky blue, and the sun yellow. She colors from what she sees and knows to be true, from the beauty and truth that surrounds her.
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It’s been one of those days.
Who am I trying to fool? It’s been one of those weeks!
I can’t really explain it. Nothing big. No major disruptions. Just the blahs. Lack of focus.
I’ve let little annoyances become pervasive distractions. My productivity is down. My organization is gone. My normally upbeat cheerful self is less than upbeat and cheerful.
Can you relate?
I wish I knew what caused days like this. I wish I knew when that switch was going to get flipped so I could avoid it.
Then my wishes turn into TRUTHS.
For I have chosen you and will not throw you away.
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My early morning walk the other day began with a prayer for understanding.
It went something like this…”God, why am I always searching for something more, something better? It seems like I’m never satisfied, always wishing for more.”
I couldn’t even really put my finger on the source of the dissatisfaction. No good reasons to feel discontent. And yet that lingering desire, that hunger…what is it that I feel like I need?
What a pain to feel discontented because I’m discontented.
But the freshness of the early air and the chirping of the birds always speak to my soul. The planets of my brain start to align and get back in their orbits.
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I pulled up to the stop sign not far from my neighborhood. Music floated through the car like fog – not loud enough to be truly heard, but not quite soft enough to equate silence. The sun was shining. I turned right at the stop to meet a friend for walking at the mall in what turned out to be a Friday ritual. In the back seat was my new baby, my first-born son. No other children yet to grace the spots behind me. One year earlier, I was standing at a white board teaching phonics and double-digit subtraction with twenty-four sets of eyes on my every move.
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We as moms wear so many different hats! I recently read that, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, the market value of the work of a mom is worth $60,182. We cook, clean, taxi, nurse minor wounds, change diapers, educate, manage household finances, and much more. Sometimes in the midst of all these tasks we just get tired!
In all of our demanding jobs and our sleep deprived exhaustion, let us not lose vision for the most important job of being a mom: raising our children to be lovers of Jesus.
Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth.
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My daughter does not like to clean her room. She never has. In fact, unlike me, she seems to like clothes on the floor and stuff everywhere.
Years ago when she was younger, I once again brought up the fact that her room was out of hand, and she needed to spend time cleaning it up. She wasn’t happy. The more we talked (I explained, she debated) the more upset she got, until finally she burst into tears, and cried, “God made me this way, and you should love me messy!”
I assured her of how much I loved her, messy or not…but her room still needed work.
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Sometimes God makes promises to us for our future and we find ourselves facing new lands, a new direction–the unknown.
Before we can harness the blessing of God’s gifts, the fullness of His vision must be realized.
God made Abraham such a promise. Abraham, already a wealthy man, lived along side Lot in a land unable to sustain their two families. Before moving on, Abraham calls on the Lord. While we aren’t privy to the words of this call, what matters most is that Abraham prayed first.
With all of the crowding from the two large families, unrest began to take its toll among the people.
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I grab my purse off the counter and hurry toward the door.
“Wait,” my ten-year-old says, coming down the stairs, a flashlight in his hands. I’ve gotta show you something.”
His eyes are bright and he’s smiling.
We’re running late for church, but he’s barefoot and his hair isn’t brushed yet.
“I’ll meet you guys in the car,” my daughter calls from the other side of the house, the garage door slamming behind her.
“Look, Mom.” He holds the flashlight up to my face. See the light bulb in there?” He pushes it closer.
I nod.
“Did you know that regular light bulbs lose about 90% of their light in that little wire they’re made with?”
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