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.

Why the "Waiting Room"?

How long should it take somebody, before they can be someone?--"Typical", Mutemath

You cannot deny that most of our lives are spent waiting. At stop lights, stop signs, restaurants, the doctor's office, for a friend who's running late, for services to begin, or a movie to start--I find myself in this humble position more often than I would like. It really is a humbling thing, isn't it? You are completely dependent upon someone else to determine when it will be your turn and call your name. When you can finally begin. The references to waiting and waiting rooms in music, movies, and literature abound. It seems that I'm not the only one who has contemplated the prevalence of waiting and how difficult it can be. Fugazi, C.S. Lewis, Sixpence None the Richer, Tom Petty...and God Himself. There is so much written in the Bible about waiting. It's very clear: We are to sit at the feet of our God and wait. Wait for His timing, His will, His purposes, His marching orders. So clear in fact, that Jesus even provides us with the example of Mary and Martha. Twice. The first time we see them all together, having a little get together with some food and friends. Poor Martha's rushing around, fretting herself with the details, while her sister Mary can be found sitting and learning at Jesus' feet. Martha finds this a bit frustrating, but Jesus explains to her that Mary has chosen what is best (Luke 10:42). So often we rush ahead because we simply don't like waiting. We're too impatient. And it's difficult when we live in the fast food, instant gratification-addicted world we live in. We are so used to immediate results that we've come to expect them. We want it and we want it now! And if we don't get it, then something's wrong, right? Well, maybe we were never supposed to have it in the first place.

The second example is found when Lazarus dies. "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." The words of both Mary and Martha. Now they knew who Jesus was. They'd seen him perform miracles. They followed Him. They were His disciples. This was echoed by the same Mary who, just a few passages before, could be found sitting and waiting with Jesus. Where was her faith now? Why wasn't she simply waiting for Him to see what He would do when He arrived?

So often it feels like we are waiting on God to show up on the scene. God, if you had just shown up a little bit earlier...God, if this hadn't happened then...God, why won't you just make x, y, and z happen? But Isaiah 30:18 says:

Yet the Lord still waits for you to come to him so he can show you his love; he will conquer you to bless you, just as he said. For the Lord is faithful to his promises. Blessed are all those who wait for him to help them.

So who's waiting on whom? Lord, conquer me so that You don't have to wait on this stubborn fool longer than necessary. I'll be waiting.

Here goes nothin'

In true form, forever slow to get on the boat, I begin my blog. I've been an avid reader of a few blogs for quite some time. A few of my friends have them. And I've wanted to join in the blogosphere for a while but have been rather busy. You see, I am the mother of three kids: Isabel, 4, Josephine, 2, and Oliver, a mere 11 weeks old as I write this. So there. There's my excuse. I'm a baby-making machine. But I have some things, so many things, floating around in my brain on a daily basis, that I thought this might be a good outlet. Hey, it's either this or forever subject my children to hearing me talk to myself. Mind you, the content will probably vary anywhere from riveting topics such as what I think of that new doofus who hosts Blue's Clues (There's only one Steve--but he left our children for punk rock), the latest contents of my son's diapers, Britney Spears' most recent meltdown, and more importantly the salvation of men's souls. Not for the fainthearted, I know. Although, I'm quite certain that as soon as I click "publish" there will be a mass boycott by the blogging community the world over due to some new information that America's heavy blogging activity is the real problem behind global warming. Go figure.

My husband was actually a major influence in my lack of web log participation for a while. Says Ren, "There's just something wrong with someone who wants to have an online diary..." Never one to mince words, that's his view on blogging. So for his sake, I will try to refrain from making it as such. So, welcome. Come on in, and stay a spell. Kick your feet up. I'm sure it'll be a wild ride. That is if I make it past post one.