Jesus walked on water, He didn't swim through it.

    Our first swim meet of the year was the other day.  It really wasn't a meet though, it was time trials.  These times serve as a baseline and the swimmers work to improve upon them during the season.  So...
    It had been a long day for this mom.  Not unlike every other mom there.  However, my patience was dwindling.  After telling my  kids to sign in, my son asked his 1001 question of the day.  True, his limit is 5001, but my limit had surpassed said number five hours before this.  I snapped at him, telling him to just go sign in. 
     I gritted my teeth as I set our things out on a lounger, we'd found one of the good ones, miracle of miracles.  I glanced up to see two tweenage girls eyeballing me.  "Yes," I wanted to say, "I am the mean mom.  So how wise is it for you to be eyeballin' me?"  They must have gotten the message because they dropped their gaze.  (I'd like to thank the Academy for acknowledging my talent and my mother for showing me the path to winning a staring contest.  See mom, you thought it was all attitude.  Which it is, but I did take careful notes of your vast talents.)
     My kids brought back their sheets showing what events they would be swimming.  I can never make heads or tails of these.  I look at the number for the event and listen for it to be announced.  I also prayed for my husband to get there soon and take over.  He was running late.  I know, goes with the day...
     Then the time most parents, except the sainted ones, dread.  The calling for volunteers to watch over the kids in the bullpen or to keep time.  My girlfriend and I made eye contact with the cement and prayed for the saints to step up.  She spotted my oldest daughter-a legal adult no less-before I did.  "Oh, look!  There's your ever responsible daughter!  I bet she'd be a timer!"  So, I asked my daughter to help us out.  Mean mom disappeared as I asked her and called her honey and told her how much we'd appreciate it.  Bless her, with a smile on her face she said, "Sure, mom."  Thank you God for her.  She's the girl I should try to be but give up ten seconds in. 
     Time for the events to begin.  Finally.  My son did fine getting in position.  My middle daughter did too, but had some problems getting out of the pool because of a pulled muscle in her shoulder and no leverage for her feet in the deep end.  My husband had arrived and stood and watched as two of our friends gave her a boost.  (When we were first married another couple called him "The Absent Minded Professor".  This used to really annoy me.  But sometimes, it is true.) 
     So, my annoyed tone transferred to him.  I asked him to please go over and help if our daughter needed anything again.  He sauntered over.  SAUNTERED...  And yes, I could have helped too.  If my back wouldn't have been out.  Which he was aware of since I'd nearly overdosed on Advil the night before.  God bless this daughter too.  She had decided to quickly slip over to the ladder to exit the pool.  I stand in awe of her problem solving skills.  Obviously so would have the professor if he'd been paying attention...
     My son returned to the "golden" lounger after his trial for backstroke and I could tell something was wrong.  He was trying very hard not to get upset.  He didn't want to tell me what happened because crying in public at his age is ostracism in the severest degree.  He finally told me he'd hit his head on the side of the pool.  I went to get some ice and was given a trash bag full.  He does not have a pumpkin head, so this fit him like a sombero.  Almost as humiliating as a public display of pain...
     Now, remember when I said the event sheet was confusing?  Since the professor was busy talking while Dr. Mom made a run to the snack shop aka ER for a trash bag sized swelling repellant, I'd lost track of who was on first.  The next thing I know, they are calling my middle daughter by name for her event.  'Cause that's not embarrassing at all for either one of us. 
     The coach came over to get her for the next event because we all know clueless mom needs as much help as can be given.  Actually, the absent mindedness of her husband has rubbed off on her because she can't remember everything for everybody.  Absent mindedness or crazytown, you pick...
     The silver lining?  My son and daughter shaved tons of seconds off their old records!  And my daughter has the confidence to think out a solution on her own.  
     The lesson learned?  Don't try to wade through your bad mood alone.  Remember, Jesus can walk on water, but momma sinks like Peter when her eyes leave the Savior's trustworthy face.       

This Ain't Your Daughter's Momma's Prom

     Ah, Prom. My daughter had her Senior prom a couple of weeks ago.  I was more nervous than she was.  With hair straightened, she not only looked beautiful, but let me help with makeup and her dress.  I can't even begin to remember when this happened last!
     My daughter met up with her friends at a scenic spot in town for pictures.  What fun they had.  A few of them had dates.  Those boys stood by the side avoiding the girls and the pictures as though they carried the plague.  Hilarious!
     On to prom then for a very nice dinner and dance.  Prom ended at 11pm and my husband picked her up and brought her home.  She still looked beautiful.  She had had a wonderful time and told me all about it.  I was so happy for her. 
     Of course all of this made me feel nostalgic.  But my prom experience and that of my friends was very different.  Let's just leave it at that.
     I began to realize a few things about my daughter.  She is the total opposite of me. 
    She skipped prom last year to go to my dad's 70th birthday party.  His health is failing and we wanted to do something special for him.  I didn't even know it was prom weekend until she told me during the party--I asked.  Stunned, I told her we could have worked it out for her to go.  She said, "No Mom, grandpa's birthday is more important."
     Because of this selfless attitude, I wanted prom to be perfect for her this year.  We bought THE dress, THE shoes, THE jewelry.  Then, I asked about "after parties".  She said she hadn't been asked.  I told her she could have one here.  She said no, she was sure she'd be tired and ready to come home after the main event. 
     No boy asked her to prom and she wasn't phased by this at all.  She didn't want to ask anyone herself, even just as "friends".  She was happy going with her girlfriends.  And, she didn't come home in a condition that would have included unhappy or forgotten memories of her senior prom.
     I do not know how I ended up with a daughter that is so full of self-confidence and an unselfish attitude.  She is kind and caring.  She is intelligent.  She realizes there will be time enough for boyfriends in the future.  She's focused on her education right now.  And, she is really responsible.  Turn those attributes around, and you had me at 18.
     I look back on the growning up years.  I look ahead to the future.  My daughter isn't perfect and we may have problems ahead.  There's a lot of advice I can give, but more I shouldn't.  I was far from the perfect mom...please.
     When younger moms comment on a girl's behavior and want to know how to raise their little daughter's to be Christ-centered, I could tell them many things.  Let her be who God meant her to be, pray for her daily and then some, patience really is a virtue, especially before you speak.  But if you want to be a Christ centered parent and raise a Christ-centered child then it's easy.  
     Keep Christ in the center.  

God's School

   I'm back...Though hesitant to write this blog, it kept coming back to me.  So here we go. 

     I sometimes, if not a lot of the time, grow unhappy with the press.  Having a degree in Journalism, they tend to get under my skin on a regular basis.  So, I am not trying to dredge up something terrible.  I think some things need to be pointed out, however.
     It has been over a month since the tragedy of Newtown occurred.  People are up in arms about many different issues.  I'd like to look at what is really important, in my opinion anyway.
     Security differs in every school.  Some have none.  Some teachers have to plug in a code to simply enter their room.  Why not  pass some consistent laws concerning our children's safety at school?  Instead, gun laws are in the forefront.  Hmm...one of the worst tragedies in our nation killed thousands of innocent people.  Sadly, children were victims on this day too.  And the people responsible took them down with box cutters and planes.  No guns.
     What if there were federal mandates arming teachers with tazors?  What if two armed guards were required by law at every entrance of every school?  What if every window in every school was legally required to be bullet proof? 
     What if all insurance was regulated to include the same coverage for mental illness as any physical ailment?  And what if, folks were honest with themselves about a loved ones' diagnosis and acted responsibly with the firearms in their home?
     Many people have brought up this subject.  If prayer was still allowed in our public schools, this never would have happened, or something to that affect.  Let's consider this one for a minute. 
     If God is who He says He is, then he is always with us, He knows every thing that will happen to us, and He is all powerful.  So, a law prohibiting prayer in public schools will keep Him out of said school.  This is one of the most ludicrous things I have ever heard in my life. 
     He's God, folks.  And He's in charge.  Believe me, He goes wherever He wants.  And He wants to be with all of us.  We're His children and He loves us.  We may have trouble accepting this because we don't think we deserve that love.  But we aren't God and we don't understand  He loves us regardless.  I wish people would believe that.
     Of course, then comes the age old question.  If God loves us, why would He let those innocent adults and children die in Newtown?  Where was He? 
     As my mother-in-law says, God is in control.  Where do you think He was that day in Newtown?  He was right there taking His sweet children, no matter their age, home with Him.  It was only time for 26 of them to go, though.  He led the rest of His precious kids out of the building safely. 
     Things could have been a lot worse that day.  And we will never know how many mentally ill folks are dissuaded by God every day to curtail their violent actions.  We don't know.  We aren't God. 
     Gun control, mental illness and even school security aside, God really is in control.  Its acceptable to exhale now.   

 

God's Care

     We have all questioned God.  Some of us were raised not to; however, being human we do it anyway.  We have all asked, "Why?" especially where the big questions are concerned.  "Why did my spouse lose his job?"  "Why does my sweet mother have to suffer so with arthritis?"  "Why do I have cancer with two small children to raise?"
     These are the heart wrenchers.  They permeate our lives.  But what about the smaller questions?  For example, "Why did my alarm not go off, Lord?  Now, not only I am late for work, but my kids will be late for school..."  "Why did my phone not charge?  I'm waiting for that important call!"  Here's one I can really relate to.  "Why did our dishwasher leak and leak and leak down into the basement?  Now, we have a huge mess we may have to pay for!"
     Why indeed?
     Could it be you are running late because a reckless driver would have crossed your path causing a horrible accident involving not only you, but your precious children?  And God said, "Not my kids you don't!  You are my child too, but I will gently guide you to be more careful behind the wheel of that car.  I will not let anyone harm any child of Mine in this minute."
     Those all important phones.  Remember when you had a simple answering machine at home?  Calls had to wait.  Boy, have we become impatient!  Perhaps the call you felt was so important was hurtful.  So hurtful that it haunted you for days and made you feel less than you really are.  Is missing that type of call really a loss?  It also gives the caller time to rethink their message.  A critical message becomes constructive, therefore a learning moment for both parties.
     And, that beloved flooded kitchen/basement.  At least it wasn't the washing machine.  How many loads per day do we do?  What if raw sewage was in your basement?  And guess what?  The insurance did pay for it.  You have a brand new kitchen and it is pretty awesome. 
     We gripe and complain, but our plans aren't God's.  His are better for many reasons.  One of which is He sees the whole picture--because He is God.  It sounds strange, but remember the Bible verse that says, "In everything give thanks"?  What if we did that?  How would God respond? 
     "Your welcome.  Thanks for trusting me.  I love taking care of you, my wonderful child."
--I'd like to dedicate this to my fantastic sister-in-law who sent me this message via email.  Love you, Cherie! 

God's Healing

     I sit here typing a somewhat new woman.  I have to share a secret with you.  For the past few months, I have been trudging through my days.  I have done only what was necessary to keep up appearances to my family and friends. When people have asked, "How are you doing, really?"  I answered them with a smile and a "I'm fine."
     I'm a pretty good actress.  I wasn't fooling my husband though, or my closer friends.  I had reached the point where procrastination had begun to bug me.  Clutter was everywhere.  I'd dropped the mask of super mom and grown grouchy with my family.
     Our summer wasn't the best.  Many of you know my father-in-law died of pancreatic cancer.  His life ended too quickly and eighteen days later, our daughter had back surgery. (I am still stalking the grumpy nurses.)  I attempted to make the summer fun for my kids.  I think I did an okay job of it.  Then, as school neared, my mother announced she needed to have a pacemaker installed.  She was my father's sole caregiver.  We had mentioned nursing home care, but who wants to do that, really?  Still, my siblings and I couldn't help like we had before, so the decision was made and my dad is now living in the nursing home.  Not fun for anyone.
     Has he adjusted well?  Those of you who know my dad know the answer to that one.  However, my mom is doing better because taking care of my dad was wearing her down.  With her heart problems, it wasn't a good situation.  And, the nursing home is less than five minutes away. She can go to visit whenever she chooses, and of course that is a few times daily.  Visiting my dad there was hard for me.  I realize it is for the best.  God led me to accept this.  Doesn't make it easy, however.
     So, the muck was there and I was wallowing in it.  I didn't even cry much; just wallowed.  I saw after a bit, that one can only do that for so long.  I didn't like who I had become. 
     At last I discovered what I needed.  I reached out to God.  I prayed.  Nothing fancy or flashy.  Nothing long or verbose.  I asked my Father for help.  I wondered how long I'd have to wait.  We hear a lot that God's timetable is not our own. 
     The next morning-BOOM-I awoke ready to go.  I actually did my to-do list.  I started exercising.  I asked friends to lunch.  (If I haven't asked you, I'll get there.  Don't worry.)  I got my Bible study underway and signed up for another one.  I'm going on a field trip Friday.
     I asked myself, "Why I didn't pray sooner?"  Maybe I needed some down time.  Maybe I needed to disconnect.  None of that is good because I always needed God.  Why do I always wait?  Haven't I learned my lesson? 
     The deal is, God is always there for me.  Even when I'm too numb to feel His love.  He must have a truck load of patience set aside for me.  His healing is unlike anything I have ever encountered.  Like a beloved blanket, it covers every corner of worry, depression, and upheaval.  It is a mighty gift.  I cherish it.  I know you do too.  Don't ever underestimate God's healing love for you.
    

God's Children

     I'm back.  Finally.  Really I am going to try to stick to a blog a week.  Accent on "try".
     I have realized I notice things others miss.  Like a forgotten umbrella in a shopping cart or a forgotten child in a shopping aisle.  I seem to stumble upon these people and things habitually.  I usually don't mind, but I have to say here lately, it has been the norm.  "I am not the Statue of Liberty," I grumpily thought the other day, "I do not want your lost, hungry, huddled masses looking to me for help."
    As soon as this occured to me, I chastised myself.  Phrases like, "Nice Christian attitude" and "What if that was your grandma?" floated through my mind.  I thought about  my grandmothers then.  One was the embodiement of a nurse and loved and took care of everybody.  She once helped a lost little girl find her mother at a picnic.  A snapshot of love personified I will never misplace. 
   My other grandma worked for years with my grandpa in their Ben Franklin store.  She did everything, but  mostly worked in the fabric department being a super sewer.  She taught me how to find a pattern for people, especially those who couldn't bend to the lower drawers.  She was a patient and kind teacher and playmate.  She took me to Sunday school every Sunday and always read Dr. Seuss, Little Arch books and my big white children's bible to me.  (Fellow Lutherans will recall these items.)
   Both of my grandmothers were little in stature.  I, on the other hand, am a whopping 5' 11".  They both were so glad I was tall.  So, when the next lady asked me to get something off the top shelf at the grocery store, I thought of them.  Wouldn't I want someone to help my grandmothers?  And, if someone was nasty to them, I'd be the first to gut that person like a herring.  Momma Bear's protection mode stretches way past her children.
    My husband and I have unfortunately begun to learn what it is like to step into the parenting role with our parents from time to time.  It seems awkward, but we can do it.  We learned from the masters.  And we do it with love and patience, as much as humanly possible, like our parents did.  My siblings and siblings-in-law can stop laughing now.
    We've all heard, "it takes a village to raise a child".  Whether the child is five or 85, maybe God has given me this job for a purpose.  There really isn't anything I can't reach at a store.  And along with helping someone else's grandma, I'd want a stranger to look out for my children.  I once physically pulled a little boy back into the theater who had been separated from his mom in the crowd.  I was happy to do it.  Just like the lady who helped my daughter to the ladder in the wave pool when we became separated and things were much too wavy.  I had been right by her. It can happen in a moment.  And in that moment, we are the village.
    I thank God for my eagle eyes and long legs.  We used to say my dad had a super sniffer.  I guess I inherited the same type of gift in a different sense.  One may not always have the time, but love and loved ones really all do live in the same village.   

God's In-Laws

     I know, I know.  A new blog?  Yes, a new blog.  I'm going to try even harder to post one once a week.  I could tell you the reasons why it's been so long, but instead I'm going to write about it.
     My father-in-law was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer the end of February.  He passed away on June 1.  I knew when I saw my sister-in-law's number come up on my cell he had died.  I was in the check-out line in Wal-Mart.  It's amazing how ambidextrous one can be when needed.
     My husband was supposed to travel to China the next day.  My sister-in-law worried he had already left.  I assured her he hadn't and promised to call him.  When I did he had just talked to his mother.  So, he knew.  I then had to tell our kids.  We were, unfortunately, all expecting this.  We prepared our children as much as possible.  Still, its never easy.  I swallowed so much while telling them I thought I might get sick.  And, they were nontheless surprised and shaken.
     We threw our stuff together and headed South.  We were able to help with the arrangements.  Everyone seemed to be holding together fairly well.  However, his loss of presence was immediately felt.  I kept waiting for him to come home from a meeting or Bible study or hospital visit.  My father-in-law was a retired Lutheran pastor.  He still led a Bible study.  He probably hadn't had too many meetings or visits in the past several years but this had been such a huge part of him when I first became a member of the family that to me it was natural to still see him in that light.  He loved to preach/teach most of all.  He led lots of lost people to Jesus. 
     The room grew smaller without his presence, especially when his brothers arrived.  Clowning around as usual, his love of laughter and goofy jokes was noticeably absent. Three now and not four, something was definately off.
     The visitation and funeral were mostly a blur.  I don't give much attention to the dweller of the casket.  That wasn't my father-in-law anyway. 
     We had visited him a week before.  He was exhausted.  When we left, I told him goodbye last.  I wanted my husband and kids to have extra time, not to feel rushed.  I told him I was the last person to wake him up to say goodbye.  Then, I told him something I'd never said before.  I love you.  He looked me right in the eye.  "I love you, too."  That is a great final memory.  I was a little shocked.  There were times when I'd grown frustrated with him and informed him in a less than tactful way.  And I'm sure he wondered why in the name of all that was good and holy had his wonderful son married such a mouthy, German, Scotch/Irish girl.
     Secretly, I'd always known it was because we were alot alike.  Except for the mouthy, Scotch/Irish girl part.  Yes, I really did just admit that.  In print.  For prosperity.
     My mother-in-law was shocked by all the people who came to pay their respects.  It didn't surprise me.  I had no doubts there.  No one is perfect but we can strive to live a Godly life.  My father-in-law did that very thing.  And he inspired many more of us to follow in his footsteps.