Legacy

Two of my dearest bloggy friends, Kathleen @ South Forte Farms and Kellie @ Blue House Academy, suggested that I repost some of my favorite "golden oldies" during my blogging hiatus. Great idea, ladies! Thank you!!


I first posted Legacy in December, 2008. I thought it appropriate to pull from the archives and post today since my mom made it through her knee surgery successfully this morning. Thank you for your prayers.

She now faces rehab from surgery and has to begin walking again with the aid of a walker today. Just hearing the word rehab is hard for her. This post can help you understand why. Please continue to lift her in prayer as she regains the use of her "good" leg and works to rehabilitate through the added difficulty of her disability....

Orville began piano lessons recently. My mom, his Nohnie, teaches him. The piano has so much significance to her, and it is a joy to watch them together. I hope one day he will grasp just how special this instrument has been to her and the beauty of the legacy she is passing to him.

Just before her seventh birthday, my mother wanted to learn to play the piano. Her neighbors owned a piano and offered to let her visit their house daily and practice. They even gave her a few "lessons." She truly loved playing and went to their house as often as she could. Soon, everyone saw that she had a remarkable ability. She could play by ear but was learning to read music and play by the rules, too. It was not long before she could play like a pro.

A few months later, my grandmother and she went downtown to shop for a new dress, a common practice of theirs. There were no malls at the time, so they would park where they could find a spot and walk from specialty store to specialty store. However, this shopping trip would be different.

Mamaw (that's what I called my grandma) got out of the car and walked around to help her seven-year-old baby girl out. Mom took two steps and fell to the ground. Mamaw thought she was joking at first and prompted her to get up before she soiled her clothes. However, Mom could not get up. She was rushed to the hospital and after a long series of tests was diagnosed with infantile paralysis or polio.

The good news was the paralysis was isolated to her left leg. The bad news was she would have to relearn some very basic motor skills, including how to walk. For the next year, she could not go to school, go outside to play or do many of the activities that a "normal" seven-year-old girl would do.

My dear Papaw was not a rich man but he had a heart of gold. He painted houses for a living and money was often tight, but he knew my mom needed something special to help her through such a difficult season. She needed something that she could call her own, that could occupy her days and give her joy as she worked so hard to rehabilitate. He worked extra hours and saved the extra pay until he had enough to buy her a piano of her own.

Her hands and arms worked just fine as did her right leg. She could play and work the foot pedals and forget all about her troubled left leg. She played and played, and her abilities grew. Soon, everyone recognized that she had a very special talent given and blessed by the Lord.

She did eventually walk again but only with the aid of a large, stiff metal brace that ran from her hip to her ankle. She could only move her left leg by swinging it way out to the side. To the kids at school, she was laughable. She was mimicked and teased. They called her "Chester" after the disabled character on the t.v. show Gunsmoke. To her teachers, she was little more than a nuisance. She was behind in her studies from being out of school during the year of rehab. Most thought of her as slow, a poor, little, crippled girl who would never learn anything.

But, she had her piano. It was a comfort to her, a reminder that the Lord had made her exactly whom He wanted, that He was all-loving and ever-present. Her remarkable gift grew and grew as she poured herself into her studies and practice. It was the one thing she could do well and she did it with gusto. By the time she was ten, she was her church's pianist.

Just before Mom's sixteenth birthday, a family moved to Knoxville from St. Louis and visited the church where she played piano. The family's eldest son had just graduated from high school and wanted very little to do with the South. He had protested the move, feeling sure there would be no indoor plumbing and that everyone would eat "possum" like on the Beverly Hillbillies. He intended to endure life in Appalachia for a couple of mandatory months and then take off for college- back to the Midwest where he belonged.

However, at church that morning, his plans were derailed. He liked what he heard coming from the piano. When he noticed that the pianist was a pretty teen-aged girl, he liked what he saw, too. After the service, he complimented Mamaw on how well her daughter played. She told him that he should tell her daughter himself. He did, and, as you have probably guessed by now, the pianist and the Midwestern boy soon fell in love and married.

My dad would not be the only fellow to fall in love with my mom and her piano playing. Nine years ago, the pianist became "Nohnie". Her first grandson, Orville, loves to hear her play. He has since he was born, and it was the one thing that soothed his colicky spells as a newborn. He wanted to start lessons this year so he could learn to play like Nohnie and spend time with her. What a wonderful time they have together as his precious hands follow hers!

Hers is a legacy of faith and of love. I pray the Lord will continue to bless her life as she passes that legacy to the next generation of our family.

Bronchitis Blues

Well, the colds we fought over Christmas break just would not let go of me. Last week, I had to go to the doctor once again. I had an upper respiratory infection and bronchitis. What a cold season it has been!

I realized today that I have not posted in a week. This is because I have been too weary to do much thinking or typing. I spent the weekend in bed and tried to take my laptop with me and pound out something. I have a few posts in the works but just could not get any of them publishable (not that that has stopped me before!).

Today I felt much better. I still have a regular cough but am feeling more myself and was able to follow my normal routine. Though there is not much substance to this post, I thought I should check in and let those of you who read regularly know that I am alive and well... okay, alive at least.

Lord willing, tomorrow I will have a teaching tip posted. I think it's a good one too. One of my favs.

Until next time... "Rejoice always (even when weary). Pray without ceasing (even when coughing excessively). Give thanks in everything (even bronchitis) for this is God's will concerning you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thes 5:16-18

Skidooing

When Orville was 2 and Wilbur was one, my husband, Michael, and I moved Orville to the "big boy" bed, while Wilbur stayed in the crib. Orville loved this change because it gave him the freedom to move around while his little brother had no choice but to watch him perform from the crib. Wilbur was literally a captive audience but enjoyed watching these shows as much as Orville enjoyed putting them on.

I knew when nap time was over each day because invariably the sounds of Orville bouncing about, followed by cackles from the crib would resound down the hallway. One day this we're-up-now-Mommy announcement came in a very unusual way. I heard Orville yelling something, then a loud THUMP, followed by Wilbur's cackle. It scared me at first, and I took off for their room as fast as I could.

I put my ear to the door and determined that everyone sounded okay, so I gently cracked the door and peaked inside, careful not to be seen. I wanted to catch Orville in the act of whatever it was he was doing.

What I saw cracked me up!

Orville had an open book on the floor in front of him. He looked at the book sternly, positioned his fists on his hips, and proclaimed, "Boo cadoo! I cun do!" With much anticipation, he jumped onto the open pages of the book, only to shake his head in frustration when he landed on top of the book and not within the world of the illustrations.

Those of you familiar with the show Blue Clues understand what he was doing. There is a segment in each episode in which Blue and Steve sing, "Blue skidoo... we can too." Then they jump into a book or painting and explore the drawings up close and personal. Orville just knew that if he persisted he could "cadoo" just like "Boo."

This is one of those mom stories that I will always cherish for its cuteness, but there is a lesson for us in there, too. We ladies have so many temptations to skidoo set before us. Our generation has been bombarded by unbiblical teachings, and it is so easy to live by one of many skewed definitions of womanhood prevalent today. We have been taught to be independent and self-reliant and that when things get tough, we need to "get away from it all" and take a little "me time". Or we need to get our act together and get things done. Don't be a wimp. Find what's at the heart of your problem and fix it.

I fought the skidooing temptation hard this past fall. It was a crazy time in the life of the Olive Plants family. There was a lot of stuff going on, and I wanted to skidoo into the realm of "me time" on a daily, maybe hourly, basis.

There was the mom stuff.

My regular readers are familiar with my boys' better qualities. You know about Orville's remarkable memory and Wilbur's artistic abilities. The Lord has blessed them and through His goodness, they have accomplished some interesting things. But, don't get the wrong idea about us. My boys have sin problems. I have sin problems. Sometimes my sin problems bump into their sin problems, and it isn't a pretty sight. There are times they argue. There are times they talk back. There are times they make glue mounds on their school desks and the hardwood floor under the guise of a "science experiment". Discipline is an on-going and often exhausting process.

There was the school stuff, too.

As you all well know, lesson plans don't write themselves. Teaching and grading take up most of my days. Record keeping and preparing materials for the upcoming week takes up most of my Saturdays. Homeschooling is a full-time job in and of itself.

There was also the wife stuff.

Michael had a challenging semester as a high school teacher. It is a well recognized fact in our home that he is the head and I am the heart. One of my roles as helpmeet is to be his counselor. When the going gets tough, I have a lot of listening to do. Sometimes hearing how students or parents talk to him is distressing. It can be so hard sometimes to see him pour himself into the lives of his students only to receive angry phone calls from parents who want their kids to get something for nothing while he does his job for a lot less compensation than professionals in other fields with comparable qualifications and experience.

Then, there was the extended family stuff.

My parents moved from TN to GA just before school started. This was a happy move for them and for me, but, it took a lot of work and help from their only child. Also, both Michael's and my parents celebrated their 40th wedding anniversaries this year, a milestone for which I rejoice greatly. With that rejoicing also came the distinct honor of planning not one, but two celebrations.

There was the irritating stuff.

The driver's side window on my car broke, not once, not twice, but three times, my friends. It's actually still not fixed completely right. I was without my car for a total of 2 and 1/2 weeks. Meanwhile, faucets broke. Appliances broke. The computer died. Vandals tore up the mailbox... twice. The dog got loose and stole the same pair of shoes from the neighbors more times than I can count on my fingers and toes.

There was the house stuff.

Oh, there was the house stuff! In part I mean the cleaning and upkeep, the cooking and washing and all of the stuff that no matter what else is going on, it must get done. I am also referring to our trying to sell our house in this lousy market and in the process finding out that it is need of costly repairs. With that has come the time consuming process of acquiring a loan, getting estimates and buying as much of the materials needed for a complete remodel ourselves to save as much money as possible.

There was the national stuff.

I voted in a presidential election in which I didn't really care for any of the candidates. I worried about the ramifications of a liberally controlled federal government. Will we suddenly face federal challenges to our rights as parents? As I mourned over the lack of godly leadership in our country, I also felt the blows of a troubled economy. I have had many moments in which I have worried and thought, "What is happening to America?"

Unfortunately, there was the heart-breaking stuff.

Recently, unchecked sin took root in the life of a family member and has destroyed one branch of our family tree. This branch was very closely positioned to Michael's and mine and has hurt us deeply.

There was the scary stuff.

I turned 35 last year and so it was time for my first routine mammogram. It detected a cyst. I had to schedule an ultrasound to determine whether or not it was cancerous. I would have to wait two weeks for the exam and another week for the results. Three long weeks to wait and wonder. Just one year previously, I had to have a complete hysterectomy. I had lived with chronic pain for a long time and have had multiple miscarriages. My reproductive system had been in such a mess for so long that I really don't even know how many miscarriages I had in all. Last year, these problems all came to a head. My OBGYN ran a pre-op biopsy. I had an MRI run to rule out a spinal tumor. Then came the endoscopy. My reproductive system was completely covered in cysts and a full hysterectomy had to be done so it could be biopsied. There was no cancer but a disease called adenomyosis. The hysterectomy cured that. But, here I was a year later, hearing that dreaded "c" word again, wondering if I would loose the rest of what makes me feel female. Thankfully I finally got the results, and it wasn't cancer but a benign little pocket of fluid.

Last, but not least, there was the viral stuff.

Just as Christmas break started, a break I really needed, a stomach virus hit our house. It came in two waves, and we were all pretty sick during most of the break. The Saturday before school was to start back, we had just gotten over the stomach thing, when Wilbur started sneezing and coughing. Soon, he had a fever, and the cough was relentless. Michael was next. Then, Orville.

Then me.

That's when I found myself in the same posture I had found my skidooing Orville. I was frustrated because things were not going my way and I wanted to skidoo.

Skidooing can take on many different forms. Trying to rework the schedule in hopes of making life easier. Searching for a better curriculum that will solve all my problems. Taking more "me time" in hopes of feeling more at ease. Sometimes skidooing isn't so much what I do as it is what I think.

If only we could get the house sold.

If only I could lose more weight.

If only I could get away from it all, just for a little while.

I suppose the ultimate skidoo would be giving up on homeschooling altogether and enrolling my kids in public school.

I am not suggesting that any of these are wrong in and of themselves. There is a time to assess and make changes or to take a break. There is even a time for God-fearing parents to transition from homeschooling to other options.

However, I am talking about the times that I try to use these things as quick fixes. I do these things hastily, not prayerfully. I do them in hopes that they will magically cure life's frustrations. It's when the hope of something better causes discontentment in my life. The problem is that skidooing never works because it does not get to the root of the problem.

In fact, skidooing usually compounds the problem because the root is selfishness. I can never cure my selfishness by doing selfish things.

So what is the cure?

How do I fight the temptation to skidoo?

First, I have to stop idealizing.

Think back to my story of Orville attempting to skidoo. What was his core problem? He was trying to do the impossible. I think one root of discouragement in my life is trying to do the impossible by being a perfectionist. In our society of experts, there is always someone telling us how we should cook, eat, dress, exercise, love our husbands, discipline our children, teach, fix our hair, wear our make up, decorate our homes, feel, think and live.

Advice is great and necessary, but too much can only fuel perfectionism. I have to exercise discernment and only accept the advice of those who do not contradict or place demands on me that exceed what the Lord requires.

I have to admit that sometimes I even get frustrated in trying to live up to what I perceive is the standard of Proverbs 31.

Being a Proverbs 31 woman isn't about mimicking Martha Stewart or living up to the standards of Better Homes and Gardens. The beauty of the Proverbs 31 example is that the work she does is unto the Lord and for the benefit of her family and God's Kingdom. The Lord, her husband and her children are at the heart of all she does.

She does not eat the bread of idleness, meaning in part that she works hard and at many tasks, but meaning also that she does not feed her mind on the idleness of worldly thinking. Her sustenance comes from God's Word. The work she does is not rooted in pride. Although she is put forth as the perfect example, she is not a perfectionist. She is fueled by love... love for God and His Kingdom, love for her husband, and love for her children. I must remember that the purpose of Proverbs 31 is not to give me a check-list of things to accomplish but a solid reminder that she who fears the Lord is worthy to be praised.

Secondly, I have to remember that I live in a fallen world.

There is no picture perfect place here on earth for me to skidoo to. My children will sin. My husband will have difficulties as he works to support our family. Messes will happen. Things will break. Others will disappoint me. And, yes, people, including me, will get sick.

My blessing as a Christian isn't that I will escape the trials and tribulations of this present life. The blessing is that the Lord will be faithful. He will continue to make me the fruitful vine written about in Psalm 128 not in spite of adversity but through it.

Remember Rom 8:28? "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose." The good spoken of in this verse is explained in more detail later in the same chapter. Verses 35-37 state, "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter. Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us." The Lord has conquered sin and will continue to help us die to self and to conform to His image. This is how we produce good fruit.

That list of "stuff" I shared earlier probably sounded like a big list of complaints. Without Christ, that's all they would be. However, the Lord has worked each of those events to my benefit. Along with each problem or headache, I could also give testimony of one or more ways that the Lord has provided or that He has shown me the error of my ways and led me to repent. If we could skidoo out of adversity, think of what we would miss.

Thirdly, I must rely entirely on the Lord.

Remember what Orville did each time his skidooing attempt failed? He regrouped, demonstrated his determination and proclaimed "I CUN DO!!"

I. Can. Do.

It's a subtle little lie that has saturated our postmodern culture.

The religion of the hour is humanism (actually it's been the enemy's lie since the garden), and the world has taught us that if we think it, believe it and try it, we can do it! Or as the enemy said to Eve, "Ye shall be as gods." 2 Cor 12:9 says, "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. " The Lord is not glorified by our ability to do whatever we set our minds to do but rather in our weakness and our total reliance upon Him.

I know you remember Martha from Luke 10. She had her mind set on doing many things for Jesus that day. Verse 40 says that she was "angered because she had so much work to do." Is it possible that Martha had put more on herself that day than was necessary? Did she in her zeal to make the meal the best it could be, give herself and those around her too large a burden?

Meanwhile, Mary had chosen the right thing. Jesus said it would never be taken from her. She had chosen to sit as His feet and receive from Him. He says His grace is sufficient. We cannot attain this grace by striving or by doing. Rather, we receive it by asking. "Ask", the Lord says, "and it shall be given unto you". (Matt 7:7)

Finally, when I am discouraged and tempted to skidoo I must immediately look to Christ.

When I remember that He left the riches and glory of heaven and endured the cross and the wrath that I deserve, I realize that putting aside my plans for His will pales in comparison.

When I reflect on his body that was broken and blood that was poured out, I know that my responsibilities at home are just not that hard.

When I contemplate his agony, I become aware of how small my present suffering really is.

When I remember the price Jesus paid for me, I come face to face with just how sinful skidooing is and am led to repent. It is only then that I feel that peace that passes understanding and I am encouraged in the knowledge that I have a loving, forgiving God who is pleased by my service at home and who continually gives me the grace each day to be more and more satisfied in Him.

Oh, Be Careful Little Mom What You Post

Teaching Tip Tuesday

I am sure you have heard the expression "be careful what you pray for, lest you get it." Here's a similar word to the wise, fellow bloggers. Be careful what you post, for surely you will be put to the test.

I had just pressed "publish post" on 100th Post: A New Name when Wilbur approached me with watery eyes, a runny nose, a hacking cough and the words, "Mommy, I don't feel so good."

AHHHHH!!!!!!!!

That was not my outward reaction toward Wilbur. But, tucked away in the back of my mind was a selfish, sinful thought. "We are supposed to start school Monday. I just don't have time for this. We're supposed to go to the library and start our research on Mexico. We're going to launch the new blog, and the boys are supposed to write their first post. We have a field trip on Wednesday and we're supposed to do x and do y and z. There goes everything I have worked so hard to put together."

A couple hours later, here came Orville. "Mommmm!!! My ears hurt." By Monday morning, we were all soooo sick, and it was obvious I needed to take the boys to the doctor. So instead of the great morning at the library, we started the day at the pediatrician's office.

As I sat in the exam room, I continued to wrestle with selfishness. I was mad that they were sick. I was mad that I was sick. I thought of the planner I had worked so hard to get in order over Christmas break and how it was already, on the FIRST day, in shambles. Then, in came the nurse. The doctor had ordered a strep test and blood work. The boys were visibly anxious, and so for a moment, I stopped thinking about myself and began coaching my boys.

"Orville, you are soooo brave... a man in the making. I know you can take a little, bitty finger prick."

"Oh no, Wilbur, blood's not gross. It's science."

My spirits were lifted as the nurse took my unintentional cue and discussed with the boys the make up of human blood and other biology factoids. Science class took place, right there in the exam room, taught by someone far more knowledgeable than I. "Not so bad after all," I had to admit to myself.

The doctor came in a few minutes later. No strep, praise the Lord. However, he needed to look in their ears because he suspected ear infections. He pulled out his ear-checker-outer thingy-ma-bob. That's what I call it. I thought that's what everyone calls it, until Orville asked, "Is that your otoscope?"

Say what?!?!

For some unknown reason, he had learned this word and had been waiting to get sick so he could go to the doctor and use it. He and the doctor then had quite the discussion of medical terminology. Hmmm... science, check. Vocabulary, check! The day was not the waste I had assumed it would be, and I was convicted on many levels but mostly for my selfishness earlier in the day.

The Lord has been convicting me regularly of my sin problem of selfishness. Generally, I do not think of myself as selfish. I hope that those of you who know me personally are surprised to read this about me. But, that is the nature of sin. It often runs deeper than we realize ourselves. On a day-to-day basis, I am pretty giving, but when my plans are disrupted, I am sooo tempted with frustration and anger and often act accordingly.

James 3:12-15 says, "Can a fig tree produce olives or a grapevine produce figs? Does fresh water come from a well full of salt water? Are any of you wise or sensible? Then show it by living right and by being humble and wise in everything you do. But if your heart is full of bitter jealousy and selfishness, don't brag or lie to cover up the truth. That kind of wisdom doesn't come from above. It is earthly and selfish and comes from the devil himself."

I left the doctor's office thinking of my vision statement, convicted. I knew I had not acted like a mom with an "OLIVE vision."

An OLIVE mom is obedient to Christ, particularly when His will does not mesh with her plans.

She loves God and her neighbor, especially her little neighbors who need her more than anyone else.

She possesses ingenuity that she uses at home, or in the doctor's office to grab hold of teachable moments for the benefit of her family.

She is a visionary parent who sees God's providence in all things, including sore throats. She promotes experiential learning by surrounding herself with her olive plants, not pushing them away when their needs interfere with hers. She longs for them to learn profitable lessons, applicable to real-life circumstances, by her example.

She is aware of the influence she has over her little plants and models righteousness, faith and repentance.

My teaching tip this week is really more of a reminder for me. Note to self... don't be frustrated by the interruptions of motherhood. Teachable moments are really God's providence at work. Repent of the sin of selfishness. Pray for the grace to serve the Lord with gladness and nurture my plants with self-sacrificing, God-honoring care.

The Strong Tower

Wisdom Wednesday

As with most Americans, September 11, 2001, started as usual for me. The boys were babies, so my mornings began early with diaper changes and feedings. By about 7:30 (CDT), they were settled, playing with toys. Then, I would grab my breakfast and turn on the television to get the weather report and news. I flipped on the Today Show and saw the towers.

By this time, both planes had crashed, and smoke billowed from the gaping holes in the buildings. At first, I wondered what movie was being promoted and thought that the special effects were over the top. I turned up the volume to hear Katie Couric and Matt Lauer explain that this was indeed real. Two hijacked planes had been flown into the World Trade Center.

Over the next few moments, a flurry of emotions swept over me.

First, I felt fear.

Who had done this? Why? What would happen next?

Then, I felt sadness.

My thoughts turned to a school in Tribeca, not far from the towers, where, two years previously, I had observed teachers. Most of the parents of children at that school worked in the Financial District. Were those children watching their parents die?

Next I felt helpless. I yelled at the television, "Those towers are going to fall. Get those people out of there, NOW!!!" I wanted to fly through the TV screen and rescue those who were trapped but could only watch.

Then, the worst happened. The South tower fell. The North followed. Smoke and debris flowed through the streets of lower Manhattan like a tidal wave as New Yorkers ran for their lives. The world stood still. I was paralyzed as this horror unfolded before my eyes. I felt sick and numb with grief. I knew that the United States of America would never be the same.

A few years earlier, two different towers fell.

Near the end of my first year teaching, I learned I was pregnant! Finally!!! We had been praying for a child for two years. After facing month after month of disappointment, we had finally conceived. How great our joy! I finished out the school year and resigned. There was no returning to work for me; I would finally be at home with my little baby.

We bought our first house. It was a beautiful, older home in a neighborhood listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It had been lovingly cared for and retained its original Victorian charm. There was a wrap-around porch and a gorgeous foyer which led into a cozy library. The library had a fireplace, original light fixtures, and built-in bookshelves and window bench; it was a dream. It was going to be the most beautiful nursery that would later be the most beautiful homeschool classroom ever!

Soon after we moved in, I started experiencing pain in my lower abdomen. I kept calling my doctor and was told it was normal and to take it easy for a few days. Then the spotting started. Once again, I was assured this was common and was told to prop up my feet for a while. After a few days of this, I insisted on being examined and was checked into the hospital. As I lay in the hospital bed, feeling pains that I knew were abnormal, I was still being told that everything was okay. I didn't believe it and was consumed with fear.

About an hour later, I miscarried. I was 12 weeks into the pregnancy, but that was far enough along for me to see a child, my child. He had little arms and legs and blue dots where eyes were forming. He was fully human but seen as no more than a fetus by the hospital staff. Instead of him being carried home to our sweet nursery, he was placed in a Petri dish and carried off to a lab. I had never experienced such sadness.

My doctor encouraged us to try again, and we faced eight disappointing months before conceiving for the second time. This baby, however, only lived to 8 weeks gestation.

Over the next year, there were four more times that a pregnancy test gave a positive result. However, before I could get to the doctor for an exam, I was no longer pregnant. The doctor could not determine if I had miscarried or if those tests had been false positives. I was beginning to feel helpless.

My OBGYN suggested it was time to begin testing. She sat with me in her office and explained the possibilities; she wanted me to be fully informed before I began the process. It was her best guess that things didn't look good for me. She wanted me to be prepared to find out that Michael and I would never be able to have biological children.

That's when they fell… those two towers I mentioned earlier. They were the towers of my hopes and my dreams. Disappointment flooded me like a tidal wave. My world stood still, and I was paralyzed by the thoughts that I would not have what I had wanted for so long. I felt sick and numb with grief and worried that I would never be the same again.

But as I looked through the dust and debris of my fallen towers, I saw that "The name of the LORD is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe." Prov 18: 10 This does not mean that I will never experience injury, insult, or heartache, but I am forever safe. Jesus is my strong tower, and His Kingdom will endure forever.

Furthermore, Jeremiah 29:11 says, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." I had to come to terms with the fact that the hope and future that Jeremiah wrote about is not wish fulfillment. My hope and my future is Jesus. And I am to pray, "Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

The true prosperity of which Jeremiah wrote is that "neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Rom 8:38-39 Our Sovereign Lord reigns, and by His grace alone I am forever His. Nothing can destroy that.

So whether we face national disaster or personal pain, may we run to Christ alone. May our faith not waiver in the face of trials. But may we instead, by God's grace, persevere and proclaim , "The LORD giveth, and the LORD taketh away; blessed be the name of the LORD." Job 1:21

Weary in Well Doing

I have started planning for next school year and felt really tired today. There have been several ways the Lord has called me to help others in the past two months, taking time away from my planning. The books have been arriving and piling up, making me feel discouraged. I prayed for encouragement, and it came in the most special way.

After I spent about an hour planning, I left my room to get a drink and looked across the hall to our "classroom." There was Bruster on the floor with a book, "oohing" and "aahing." I asked him what he was doing. He said, "I found the science book for next year and just couldn't wait." He was already reading the lessons on his own and was excited about the prospect of the study on Swimming Creatures of the Fifth Day by Jeannie Fulbright. For the next fifteen minutes or so, he kept pointing out pictures and activities in the text, telling me he could not wait to read more about this or to do that. Then, he said the sweetest thing. "I know we will do all the good stuff, Mom. School is really fun with you."

The Lord is so sweet. His will is so perfect. I was reminded in that moment that my work is not in vain and that it is not all about those lesson plans. Home schooling is the opportunity to disciple our children from birth to adulthood, experiencing the blessings of a close relationship with each of them. May I do as Galatians 6:9 says, and "not grow weary in well doing, for in due season, we will reap, if we faint not."

Murphy's Law

Anything that can go wrong... will, right? That's how it felt around here this week.

First, the right side of the kitchen sink developed a leak. We decided that this was not the worst thing that could happen and we would just use the other side until we could get the leak remedied. This worked... until the left side started leaking too. Then, a tiny pin-hole developed in the spout. Now water was spraying out over the sink onto the counter and floor. But wait... there's more. The dishwasher stopped working and started spewing soapy bubbles. My kitchen was becoming a slip-n-slide. After cleaning up the water mess, I tried to plug in my crock pot and start dinner... no juice. The outlet was as dead as a doornail. I decided to leave the kitchen until the repairMEN could come, so I sat down at the computer to get some work done. Now, the printer would not print. Soon after which, we found out that two walls in our house were in need of repair. With our house for sale, this made me want to scream.

None of this is the worst that could happen, but all of it compounded made me feel ill. I began to worry if our very old house on a very busy street will ever sell. I began to wrestle with the flesh, wanting to control these seemingly out-of-control situations. But instead, I took a quick retreat to my room where I have my quiet time. After time in the Word and in prayer, my frustrations were eased as the Spirit reminded me of what all I do have.

This blog is dedicated to those very things. First, I have the Lord, Jesus Christ, who is my all in all. He has saved me from my sin and called me His own. He has given me a faithful husband who loves me unconditionally. I have the blessing of two sons who are immeasurable in value. I have the joy of being with them everyday, experiencing the Lord at work in their lives. You cannot buy that.

So, the next time Mr. Murphy comes knocking at my door, I pray for the strength to tell him, "Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For everything in the world- the cravings of sinful man, the lust of his eyes and the boasting of what he has and does- comes not from the Father but from the world. The world and its desires pass away, but the man who does the will of God lives forever." 1 John 2:15-17