Khakis

We've joined the Girl Scouts. Well, technically my child joined the group but I'm positive this will involve me. So far, I've purchased supplies, put together a uniform, sewn on patches and she has attended a one hour meeting. See what I mean?

I did get a laugh out of her reaction to the uniform of a white shirt and khaki bottoms. She's never liked polo shirts and that's just what I bought. Fortunately she recalled that the other girls wore similar shirts, so she acquiesced. Then I pulled out the khaki pants. It was a resounding NO! She said, "I'm not wearing those! They're like your pants!" I laughed and said, "What do you think khakis are?" 

What ever happened to the little girl who wanted to wear mommy's clothes? When did khakis become so hideous? I really shouldn't be surprised by the child who insists on wearing hot pink tennis shoes with fluorescent yellow laces. Regardless, I know that clothes don't make the person and some day soon she will realize that also.

Proverbs 31:25 Strength and honor are her clothing; she shall rejoice in time to come.

I did go back and buy some khaki shorts, which she agreed to wear. However, the khaki pants will stay whether she likes them or not because in a few months I have a feeling the shorts just aren't going to cut it. 

Balance

In my profession, August is the busiest month of the year. We help students find ways to pay for college, but many don't seek our help until the bill is due. The students and their parents get anxious, so our staff takes on more than an average load to help each one navigate through the applications and forms. This happens every August across the country in every college.

I've been observing my friends on Facebook who are working weekends along with exceptionally long days to serve all of these students, but at what cost? They are losing time to be with their family, the chance to rest, and to have a life outside of work. They are fighting exhaustion and ailments caused by the stress of overworking.

I feel very fortunate that I'm too busy outside of work to put in overtime. I can't get to work more than 15 minutes early because I have a child to drop off at school. I have to leave work on time to avoid late charges for after-school and to get to Awana on Wednesday evening. I get to eat supper with her, make her do her homework, read to her, say prayers with her and tuck her in every night. I just don't have time to work longer hours, so I give work my all while I am there.

Ecclesiastes 2:22-24 For what has man for all his labor, and for the striving of his heart with which he has toiled under the sun? For all his days are sorrowful, and his work burdensome; even in the night his heart takes no rest. This is also vanity. Nothing is better for a man than that he should eat and drink, and that his soul should enjoy good in his labor. 

My balancing act: Work to live, don't live to work.

Forgiving Yourself

I was reading a book this week entitled "More Than This" by Staci Stallings. It's a work of fiction, but had a wonderful analogy about how to forgive yourself after God has forgiven you. Here are some excerpts of the discussion between the main character Liz and her pastor.

  “I think God probably has forgiven me. I mean I’ve asked Him to and all, but I just... I can’t forgive myself. I can’t. What I did...”
  “... was too bad to ever forgive,” he finished for her, and she nodded, wondering how he knew the end of that sentence.
  Standing, he came around the desk and sat on top of it. “Let me ask you this, are you holding onto this thing because you think if you let it go, that will somehow mean you think it was okay?”  
  She could almost hear the ripping of the tears up from the surface of her heart. “Yeah.”
  “God is not about condemning you, so if you’re feeling condemned, that’s Satan, not God. Our God, our Father, loves you more than you can know, and it has nothing to do with anything you’ve ever done— good or bad. He has put inside of each of us a conscience that helps us know right from wrong, and when we do wrong, our conscience lets us know it.
  “Let me ask you this: have you ever been around a hot stove or a pan?”
  She liked this, it felt like getting away from the center of her story, like maybe she wouldn’t have to confess what she had done. Lifting her gaze, she nodded. “Yes.”
  “And why don’t you touch that hot surface?”
  “Because you’ll get burned.”
  “Exactly. Now some of us had parents who warned us about the hot stove, and we took them at their word and didn’t touch the thing. Others of us didn’t have those kinds of parents and had to learn about the hot stove the hard way. We touched it, got burned, felt the pain, and decided, ‘That was not a good idea.’”
  Liz almost laughed through her tears.
  “Right?” He smiled at her. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
  She smiled again and nodded.
  “And then there are some of us who had the good kind of parent, who told us not to touch the stove, but we had to see for ourselves. So we waltzed right up to the stove and smack!” He slapped his hand on the desk, causing her to jump. Then his eyes got wide, and he yanked his hand back and shook it. “OW! That’s hot!”
  This time, she really did laugh at his theatrics.
  “Right? You’ve been there then? Testing the stove, and you found out— that it’s hot. It hurts when I do that.”
  Now she was beginning to see just a bit clearer. “So why did God spell out all of those commandments? So He could punish us when we did something wrong, or was it Him telling us, ‘Don’t touch the hot stove. It will hurt you’?”
  Her spirit felt as if it had been scalded repeatedly by that stove.
  “The thing is, when we feel the pain, it’s a signal that something is not right. Something is hurting and we need to take our hand off the stove.” He sat back down on the desk. “You get it now, don’t you? You get it that when God said, ‘Liz, that stove is hot. Don’t touch it,’ He wasn’t fooling around. He wasn’t trying to take away your fun. The stove really was hot, and it really did hurt.”
  She nodded. Yes, it really did hurt. Physically but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually as well.
  “Good. Then the first thing you’ve got to do is take your hand off the stove.” A question went through her mind and her eyes. “See, you’re holding your hand on that stove, bound and determined to keep yourself in that pain because you disobeyed and did what God told you not to do. And God’s right here saying, ‘Liz, take your hand off the stove, Child. You’ve been keeping yourself in this pain for too long.’”
  She shook her head. “But how do you do that? How do you let it go?”
  His eyes grew even kinder and gentler. “Sometimes it’s really hard. Sometimes it’s so hard that you can’t even do it.”
  Oh, that’s comforting. The words shot through her being, but she yanked them back before they came from her mouth.
  “But there’s something I’ve learned. When things are the hardest, when what God is asking us to do is so hard that you know you can’t do it, that’s when you’ve got to ask for His help. Not to fix the situation if it can’t be fixed, but to help us to forgive ourselves. We have to ask Him to help us to be willing to give the same forgiveness to ourselves that He’s already given us— to be willing to take our hand off the stove.”
...
  “So when you take your hand off the stove, you don’t forget that it hurt, you don’t forget what the pain felt like, but you let those scars remind you that God was right all along,” she said now beginning to understand. “That the stove was hot, and you touched it anyway, but He’s forgiven you for insisting that you learn the hard way.”
  He nodded. “And then you use that knowledge to help others avoid the stove.”

II Corinthians 12:9-10 And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Back to School

It happened again. The kids are back in school. Even though it's still 90 degrees, the summer is over. Gone are the days I can get the youngest up and drop her at my parents' house in her pjs. Gone are the days that I can sleep an extra 30 minutes because I don't have to make breakfast and lunches before heading to work. Gone are the days that the traffic is smoother and finding a parking spot at the college is a piece of cake. Ah, I'll miss you summer.

I now have a fourth grader and a freshman in high school. The younger will learn how to change classes and continue afterschool karate, while the older is attending a brand new school and joining their Air Force JROTC program. So, my time shuttling kids around will probably be on the increase.

It's also the busiest month of the year at work since we are gearing up for our fall start and church activities also get a reboot. I'm tiring just listing everything here. But I know that within a week or two, the impending chaos will once again feel normal and all is as it should be.

I'll just remember this...

Malachi 3:6 For I am the Lord, I do not change; therefore you are not consumed, O sons of Jacob.

My Weekend with Reggie

This weekend my 14-year-old son had the opportunity to go to Florida, his last chance before school started. There was only one problem.

"Mom, will you take care of Reggie?" he asked.
"Don't you have a friend who will do that?" I replied.
"All you have to do is put water in his bowl. You don't have to touch him."

Anyone who knows me understands that I'm not an animal person. The kids always claim they will take care of a pet, but I don't believe them. It happened years ago with the goldfish my son won at a carnival. After a month, I was the one who remembered to feed it and had to clean the bowl. I finally told them to set it free in Lake Lanier because 18 months was long enough for me to clean the bowl of an inch long, 49 cent goldfish.

Reggie is another story. He's a 1-year-old ball python who eats one mouse a week and must have his bowl kept full of water. He eats on Wednesdays, so there was no problem with that. Finally I relented and my son headed to FL. Reggie doesn't move around much in his 3ft x 1ft x 1.5ft cage, so I was a little surprised when I checked on him the second day and found him slithering to the other side, away from his usual resting place. Then I saw why and the text messages with my son began.

"So Reggie pooped a LOT next to the glass under his log."
"Can u remove it"
"Eeww"
"Grab some toilet paper and just pick it up"

Eeww! I headed down to the garage and found some industrial strength plastic gloves and did what had to be done. Then, I got to thinking about what a mom will do for their child.

Proverbs 31:27 She watches over the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness. 

My son soon called to check on Reggie (and probably me as well). He told me that event happens only once every 3 weeks. (Lucky me!) I assured him that the cage was clean again, but he would be cutting my grass this week - free of charge. He agreed.