Well Said

In the spirit of the waiting room, I thought I would link what my good friend and pastor, Tony McCollum, had to say about waiting. I could not have said it better.

Also on March 19th, 2003...

While I was having a baby at the hospital, we were sending troops to Iraq. Operation Iraqi Freedom started 4 years ago today. I can't believe we've been over there for that long.

Later that year, Hurricane Isabel hit North Carolina shores.

What does all this say about my daughter? I sure hope that her entire life is not marked with unnecessary wars and deadly hurricanes!

Isabel Mae

Today is March 19th. A very special day. Today is the day, 4 years ago, I became a mom for the first time and little Isabel Mae was born. I remember holding her and thinking that there was never a more beautiful, perfect little girl. I was smitten from the start. That time was so magical. I was blown away by how much I loved her, even though I barely knew her and she certainly hadn't done anything to earn my love. Other than the fact that she was my daughter. My first-born. I just wasn't prepared for the intensity of emotions I would have towards her. I also couldn't believe that the way I was feeling was just a fraction of how God felt, and still feels, towards me. This still boggles my mind to this day.

I cannot believe it has been 4 years. She was such a perfect baby and has turned into an even more incredible, smart, spunky little kid. She amazes me with how much and how quickly she learns every day. I am so happy that God decided to bless us with her. She makes me proud to be a mother.

Motherhood and marriage, while not always easy or smooth-sailing, are the two most rewarding roads I've ever traveled along. I am honored and humbled beyond words that God has given me both.

Happy Birthday, my big girl. I love you so much. May God bless you and keep you all the days of your life.

Worth a Thousand Words

All this talk of death and sacrifice has me sounding a bit Eeyore-ish. I thought I would instead post a ray of sunshine. This says it better than I ever could.

What Not to Wear

Could be my mantra these days. You know your fashion sense is not at its peak when you walk out of your bedroom, and your two year old exclaims, "Mommy, you're dressed!"

Does anyone watch that show on TLC? There's the British version and now the American version hosted by Stacey and Clinton. I do like the show (both versions), but I find I can't watch it too much. All those shows are the same for me. Trading Spaces, What Not To Wear, You're an Utter Loser With No Fashion Sense and We're Here to Deliver You!, etc., etc. I like the concept of these shows. I learn a few things. But then I find myself discontented with stuff around me that I otherwise wasn't discontented with before I watched it. It's sort of how I imagine the Tree of Knowledge. I am convinced we know far too much for our own good. It's a heavy burden to bear--knowing too much. A burden we were never meant to shoulder. It keeps us from truly enjoying things. It's hard to enjoy something when it could always better or more, right? And what do you do with all that info once you've got it? If it doesn't benefit the world around you, then it may as well be useless.

I just finished reading _The Magician's Nephew_ by C.S. Lewis, the first book in _The Chronicles of Narnia_ Series. These themes were heavily explored in this amazing book. Sacrifice, doing what's right, living for others and not yourself are themes throughout the series. Of course, there's absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying ourselves. God wants us to enjoy ourselves. I enjoy fashion just as much as the next gal. God gave us this world to care for and enjoy. However, enjoying ourselves doesn't always show up in the most conventional or obvious ways. I doubt that Mother Theresa, on her deathbed, wished she had spent more time coordinating her outfits with handbags and shoes. I'm certain that she felt the same as the apostle Paul

I was resolved that the only knowledge I would have while I was with you was knowledge of Jesus, and of him as the crucified Christ. --1 Cor. 2:2 (NJB)

Sound fanatical? Well, then I guess I'm a fanatic.

Forgive me, Blogger, for I have sinned...

It's been 5 days since my last blog-fession. Herein lies the primary reason why for so many years this ol' commitment-phobe has refrained from blogging. The pressure to perform. To produce. What if I can't do it? Now, I know that all my faithful readers (all three of you) aren't the ones putting that pressure on me. It's just the perceived pressure. The "I-don't-want-to-consistently-let-down-my-peeps-every-time-they-check-my-blog-only-to-see-there-are -no-new-posts-and-thus-discover-how-boring-I-truly-am" syndrome. However, most of you already know that by now anyway. Or maybe you don't. Allow me to enlighten you. If I were to peel back the curtain of my life these days, you would generally find me cutting the crusts off of PB & J's (in my spit-up stained sweats), sans shower and teeth brushed, dodging phone calls from the IRS. Sound glamorous? It's more of a post-modern glamor, I think. This is why you'll never read a blog by me entitled, "Mommy-ing for Jesus" or "The Joy of Biblical Motherhood.com". I just can't quite seem to cut it. That, and I hardly think I'm one to represent.

So the pressure to perform and to produce follows me throughout my life. Especially in being a Christian. I seriously thought about titling my blog "Parenting is Death.com" just to see what sort of reaction I would get. It definitely, more accurately describes how I feel on a regular basis. Of course, by "death" I mean death to all things that pertain to my selfish nature. Parenting has taught me just how truly selfish I am. And that, my friends, is no picnic. No walk in the park. Of course, what I get in return for dying, is Life. Jesus said,

Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to finding yourself, your true self.--Matthew 16:25 (Msg)

It's so true. What I get, when I trade in my selfishness, or as Oswald Chambers said it best, my claim to my right to myself, is selflessness. When I trade in my impatience, I get patience in return. For my anger, I get God's peace. My pride, His humility. It's a rather raw deal on His end, if you ask me.

So instead of performing, life, real life, is about dying. Less of me, more of Him. In dying, we live. In laying down our lives, we find that same resurrection life and power that raised Christ from the dead. It is then, and only then, that we truly find ourselves.

More on Waiting Rooms

You wanna know another way in which this blog is like a waiting room? Have you ever found that you'll read absolutely ANYTHING while sitting in a waiting room? I mean, your options are somewhat limited. I believe I've even picked up this gem while waiting for a dental exam. You have to read whatever literature to which the owner of that particular waiting room subscribes. Sort of like you and this blog. Gotcha.