Sand Paper

My kids are like sand paper. Sand paper is rough and irritating and really good at smoothing out rough patches. Sand paper is used to remove the splinters and defects in a piece of wood. I have lots of rough edges that need to be removed if my life is going to be a blessing to those around me. My children often show me the selfishness and pride that I effectively hide from myself and others most of the time. With them, I see most clearly how I horde my time and energy to do things that please me alone. I see that I am motivated by what will make me happy and not what pleases the other person. Because of them, I see that my love is the love of word and not of deeds, and I am humbled and brought low. I see that the love that God has for me is an active love, and I see how far short I fall of the love that He has called me to.

And, because of them, I see what it means to die daily with Jesus Christ. My daily death comes when I choose to put down the rake, and push a swing instead. My death with Christ happens when I sit down and slowly savor a book instead of vacuuming one more step. My choice to die daily shows love for those around me when I order my days in the way that will bring the most joy to my family and others instead of scheduling my time to protect time for me and my private enjoyment.

The piece of wood that is fashioned and smoothed has little choice to resist the work of the sand paper in the hand of the artisan. I on the other hand, have a choice that must be lived out on a daily basis. Will I allow what I have seen to shape my life and make it a blessing to others, or will I continue to live for myself?

Writer's Block

When the computer is inaccessible, I am a Hemingway (Yuck, I really don't want to be like him.) just waiting to be discovered. Then the time comes to try to write, and I find that not even spell check can tidy up the mess that my wild thoughts make of the screen. I've been working for some time on a blog about the unfortunate finish of the Boston Marathon, but it seemed like a waste of time for me to type let alone for you to read. Maybe, I will try again another day. . .

A few weeks before Christmas, I went out in the evening to do some errands. The roads were icy, and snow swirled in the wind. Walking across the parking lots, I noticed that most of the other shoppers had their heads down, tucked in their coats. It was the reasonable and even sane thing to do, but I just couldn't bring myself to waste such a lovely storm by hiding from it. I raised my head to feel the wind whipping the snow against my face. The wind and snow weren't the only things that struck me.

Sometimes things happen that make me want to self-protect. I feel as if making wiser choices, or being more careful, or taking fewer chances can lessen my pain. I determine to live life to minimize struggles. After our baby died, my husband and I talked about if we might want another baby. Honestly, I'm afraid. What if this should happen again? What if we have a baby that is sick? What if? What if? What if? “I don't want to feel this way again!” is my first response, but there is another way to respond to the pain that comes as a natural course of life.

There is surrender; surrender to the One who loves me and wants the best for me. But surrender involves risk. Life is full of risk; there is always something to lose. There is also something to be gained when we let go and take a step of faith that makes no logical sense. It can't be explained and those around us shake their heads at our apparent insanity, but I want my kids to learn to risk. I want them to try new things even when they are afraid, even when it might not make sense. I want them to learn to walk by faith. So, rather than tucking my head into my coat to hide from the storm, I'll throw my head back to see the glory hiding in the storm that God has chosen for me and in the process enjoy the snowflakes melting on my cheeks.

Taking the plunge

yikes! I hate water. I am especially terrified of jumping into a pool. To me, this blog thing is a lot like having a well-meaning friend come by and push me into the deep end. Though my 1337 hubby has been urging me to write a blog for some time, the final "push" has come in the form of many events that we neither one would have guessed at or asked for. So here I am. I hope that in some ways this blog can be a way for me to share the "thousand blended notes" of my days and the journey that God has mapped out for us.