Everyday Days

Though time crumbles stone and the story grows old

The Savior we love still watches His fold

And His star still shines over city and mart 

And His voice still speaks to the listening heart

Rote, redundant, repetitious are not usually words we associate with being full of wonder and awe. We think of them more as being mechanical or automatic as if there were no intention, as if mundane were the opposite of mindfulness. Jesus made reference to the kingdom of God belonging to the children and perhaps their way of reveling in what adults may call monotonous makes them more aware of the delight of repeating everyday pleasures. "One more story, one more trip down the slide, one more walk with Granpa." GK Chesterton reasons that the cry of children for "more" is a reflection of the God who created them:

 “It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that God has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we. The repetition in Nature may not be a mere recurrence; it may be a theatrical encore.”

When Jesus asks us to consider the lilies of the field and how they grow assuring us that He cares so much more for us, He is inviting us into the glorious wonder of observing and participating in the predictable repetition of a His created world, both the ordinary and the extraordinary. He is encouraging us to experience His attention to detail in both the stars in a child's eyes and those that make up the galaxies. He is gracing the moments that we trek through toddler-dom, walk a tightrope with teens or care for an aging parent. He infuses the good, the bad, and the ugly with fresh springs of light that cause us to see beyond just having a quick look. 

My father-in-law has collected a series of little houses, the ones that are lit from the inside often displayed at this season. Over the years, he has gathered banks and barns, shops and vintage houses, a light house and several churches. Altogether on the mantle, where they are carefully arranged with cords neatly hidden behind gold garland, the miniature buildings create a warm glow throughout the room almost reminiscent of a Victorian village.  It is only when one draws very near and peeks into the windows that one can catch a glimpse of treasures within...tiny figures trying on hats or others sampling confections from the bakery. 

I have mused often this Christmas season as I sit sipping afternoon coffee with my dear in-laws of the haven they have created in their rather ordinary little home. Their lives, not unlike the little row of houses, are predictable. They eat three meals a day, let the dog in and out, venture to the grocery, bank and hair-dresser and watch a bit of TV in their recliners. All ordinary, mundane, unspectacular. Yet, there is a light reflected from within their lives which makes the repititous nature of their 74 years together fairly glow. They have lived out the truth of experiencing new mercies morning by morning and found God faithful in the everyday days. Nestling into the warmth of their living room and the peacefulness of their steadfast abiding I am awestruck by the wonder. My own faith is nourished. My heart is refreshed. My outlook, brightened. I drink my coffee to the dregs, reluctant to leave, but renewed, not by having dined in a king's palace but having been infused with more strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow. 

Each year, Granpa declares he will not decorate for Christmas. Each year, we cajole him into doing so. Slowly, he begins to uncoil the cords and to string the lights. Our hearts are gladdened again. Someday it will not be so. But we will have taken with us the blessing of learning to treasure  everyday days in common ways. One more cup of coffee, please.

Oh normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you, love you, bless you before you depart, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth or  stretch myself taut or bury my face in a pillow and want for all the world your return. 

Mary Jean Iron

Ready, Aim, Fire

Life unfolds unexpectedly.

"We didn't do Santa when our kids were little. Now I AM Santa Claus."

This from my cousin-in-law (we love to get into those "now, what are we first cousins once removed, or second cousins?" discussions at family gatherings) who now grows a full, snowy beard in the fall, dons a fabulous Santa suit and charms old and young alike with his winsome banjo-rendition of favorite Christmas carols and HO-HO-Ho-ing. 

Why is it, that after a few years of parenting we sometimes find ourselves doing a 180 on issues to which we doggedly adhered in our earlier days? These are some we have heard:

-Our children are only going to play with wooden toys.

-We will NOT use a pacifier. 

-Our kids will be potty trained by the time they're two.

-No one gets their ears pierced at our house until they're thirteen,

-We plan to hold off on getting a cell phone for our kids until they are in high school, (or middle school....or until they start school.)

But not to point fingers, here are some of ours:

-We do not watch R-rated movies. (Then came The Passion of the Christ)

-No Halloween candy in your room. (Yeah, well. Oh, you meant pockets,too?)

-We do not play with Barbies (but then, all of our best friends do.)

-Gum day is cleaning day. (Yes,well think about a bunch of little kids with carte blanche gum privileges)

-Our skirts will be "this length"...or that...or wait. Hemlines are always up for debate.

-Our bathing suits will be modest. (Who decides modesty?)

-Recreational dating is not a good thing. ("Oh, we're just friends", echoes more than once.)

-Evangelistic dating is not a good thing. (Ditto above)

-Cell phones (once invented) get parked at the door to preserve table conversation (Now we text down the row at church?)

We watched the generations before us. We were going to get it "right". What happened? As we grow and mature, do we realize more and more the naïveté, pride, and eternal optimism of our youth? Do we cash in and give way to cultural pressure? Do we realize there are more important issues at stake and attempt to not major in the minors? Is it true that times change and there IS a season for everything? Are we just plum tired? Or do we simply give life our best shot, instructing from the integrity our hearts, wearing out our knees in prayer and leaving the results to a sovereign God?

Is it both/and? As we endeavor to nurture households of faith, do we hold to the basic tenants:

"Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is, and walk in it; and you will find rest for your souls."

Jeremiah 6:16

And, at the same time, do we remain open to new leadings while tenaciously seeking truth:

"Do not call to mind the former things, nor ponder things of the past. Behold I will do something new."

Isaiah 43:18

In the end, it is His story. It is God's redemption story written in and through and by and for each of our lives and those of our offspring.

"I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have entrusted to Him against the day of Jesus's coming."

II Timothy 1:12

Here I am on a very fun date at the shooting range with my son.

And no........we did not play with guns when he was growing up. 

Learning.

Aiming.

Still focused on the goal.

Birthday Buddies

Two birthday girls. Sisters born on the same day, fourteen years apart. What is the likelihood? What is the degree of probability that out of three hundred sixty four other options, these baby girls would  make their landing into this world on the same day? We always knew the juxtaposition was God-breathed, imparting a special bond between the bookends of the sister-siblings. 

Big sis followed a trio of brothers into our family, adding pink to the pallette and additional aisles to Toys R Us shopping. When Mandy was born, my daddy was struggling with cancer. Although in remission at the time, he actually died on the day he was scheduled to fly into Atlanta to meet our tiny daughter. Daddy  loved our sons, but was adamant about wanting us to have a daughter. (He and Mother reared three....we did only  girls at our house growing up.) "Now, you've got your girl", he announced to me over the phone, with great satisfaction. And I think God had allowed him to linger until she was born. God honors those heart desires sometimes, I do believe. And although they never got to meet on this earth, Mandy grew up telling others the story and that Grandaddy has a hug waiting for her in Heaven. 

Baby Girl is the family caboose. Fourteen years and six sibling births later, Josie was due near our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Knowing that she might wonder later in life why in the world she was the only kid in her high school graduating class that had grandparent-looking parents, we pensively pondered her name. Josephine comes from Joseph, the eleventh son of Jacob whom God used to redeem the nation and to restore the family. We figured that as the youngest, some big family responsibilities may fall to her in future years. Sterling, her middle name, refers to silver, a precious metal that is refined and known for its luster and reflective qualities, which we hoped would come to reflect the light of Christ through her life. We wanted Josie to grow up knowing that her debut into our middle-age years was not a financial burden or an inconvenience or a mistake, but that she was more precious than gold. And when Josie was four years old she could repeat that whole premise, including the announcement, "I am more precious than gold."

On the day of Josie's birth, Mandy was a delighted young teen declaring that her new li'l sis was her birthday present. She requested that she take the baby to bed with her and I allowed it, making a deal that she would let her babies sleep with me one day. (I remind her often.) Never begrudgingly sharing the birthday limelight, Mandy often made Josie's cake, sewed her birthday dress or collaboratd with me on her party. It was a mutual admiration society. When Mandy went off to school in England, Josie sprayed the nursery with freesia, Mandy's fragrance, every day at nap time. And it was only within recent years (truly!) that Josie realized that Leaving on a Jet Plane had been recorded by Peter, Paul and Mary and was not an original that she and Mandy had made up, although they adopted it as their song. 

Thousand of miles separate the celebrants today. Last evening I spoke with Mandy as her birthday was dawning on the other wide of the world. At my morning's musing, she would be ending her day as Josie's begins. My head feels a bit dizzy, like in a time-warp somewhere outside of space and time as I think back to thirty-four years ago today and then to twenty years ago. Even though the birthday-buddies  are worlds apart, busy with their own lives, and enjoying relationships in their own arenas, I trust my girlies will always be there in life for one another. Surely the God who orchestrated the commemoration of their births to occur simultaneously on the same recurring day of the timeline will bless the tie that binds their hearts and this mother's prayer. 

. 

And to Ruth Bell Graham's poem, I would add:

Let them have sisters, too, to care. 

SWOOSH!

My baby turns twenty this week. How can it be? I remember decades ago, someone in the church we were then attending inviting me to a junior high parents' gathering. Why, I asked myself quite sincerely,  would they be asking me to join a group called Parents of Teens? It actually took a few minutes to realize that I resembled that remark. I would soon be the mother of, not one but, two teens!  Now, here I am, twenty-eight years later, having survived. Is there a medal? A badge of courage? A notation  in the Guinness Book of Records for most consecutive years mothering teens?

Not that it was a negative. I have never believed  in labels like the "terrible twos" nor the bad press often clumped on teens as a group. Nonetheless, there are commonalities, predictable frays and hormones to fit every season. I recall one of my biggest fears being that we would have toddlers and teens in the house at the same time as menopause. It happened. We made it. But....

....SWOOSH! 

Those twenty-eight consecutive years of parenting teens seem like a blur. I have not even begun to do the math on the number of teen-agers we had dwelling in the same household at any given time.

I recently paged through a journal from thirty-some years ago when our oldest sons were toddlers. The entry: "No matter what happens later in life, should you disappoint us, (as we all do with one another), you have made us very happy today." I smiled, remembering my naïveté as a young mom. Even though I knew our sons were a gift from God, a sacred trust, and that they were not my own but only loaned for a little while, did I really think they were here to make me "happy"? While our stated goal in parenting was that each child would grow "to love The Lord with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind", is that the take-away with which they left home?

Recently, one of our adult children disappointed me. Hugely.  I mean, my heart ached and I dab at tears even now, just thinking about  it. The issue was not illegal, immoral or financially devastating. Their decision, not mine to make, was so counter, though, to what had been taught, what had been modeled, what we embrace. I was not happy. I am not happy still. So am I  just as immature as I was all those years ago as a fledgling mama? No, I will not throw myself under the bus, but instead thank The Lord for loving me even when I make choices that certainly do not make Him happy. I will thank Him for moment-by-moment grace to get out of the way so that my adult kids can hear from Him.

Even though we consciously gave our kids back to The Lord at birth, at their dedication, at their first overnight camp, at graduation, in marriage, I sometimes feel a need to pop up when it seems like God is  not coming through loud and clear. That's why no one calls me the "still, small voice", by the way. They already know what I think. I can trust you, God, to use consequences for their indiscretions or excesses or poor judgement to draw them to you, to your Word, to your wisdom that is ageless, timeless, not old-fashioned and fuddy-duddy like me. Help me, in my attitudes, to convey the love and acceptance that woos them through the Holy Spirit to You. 

So I am thinking at this juncture in time when the basketball is no longer swishing through the hoop (I could hear that ball bouncing and those dribble drills in my sleep for many years) that swoosh sounds a bit like the rush of wings. Swoosh also sounds a bit like hush. As teenager-hood has swooshed through our home, a hush a fallen. No longer need I parrot reminders to make beds or complete homework, to reduce speed when driving in the rain, to remember who you are and Whose you are, to wake up, to look others in the eye when you shake their hands, to remember grandparents, to choose the best over the good, to wear a sweater when I am cold. I am hushed. My daily pray is that they have learned to hear from You. 

Nike, that winged goddess of victory, according to Greek mythology, sat beside Zeus, the ruler of the Olympic pantheon. Her mystical presence, symbolizing victorious encounters, presided over history's earliest battlefields. The symbol has come to represent new levels of mastery and achievement. The swoosh embodies the spirit of the most courageous and chivalrous warriors. In a much more spiritual sense, Lord, I am asking You to call our kids higher, to raise them up as victorious warriors for your Kindgom purposes. 

Those who wait for The Lord will gain new strength;

They will mount up with wings like eagles,

They will run and not grow weary

They will walk and not faint

And hush me so they can hear from You. 

You Again

 Looking at my life

Through the eyes of a young girl growing older all the time,
Maybe just a little wiser
I can clearly see
All my mistakes keep coming back to visit me
Pointing out the roads not taken
So much I'd like to change but one thing I'd do the same

I'd choose you again, I'd choose you again
If God gave me the chance to do it all again
Oh, I'd carefully consider every choice and then
Out of all the boys in the world
I'd choose you again

Times weren't always good
Seems like the Lord gave all the easy parts away
But every time the road got rocky
You'd look at me and say
Had all you needed long as I was there with you
You're the reason I kept going
If I could start my life anew
The first thing that I would do

I'd choose you again, I'd choose you again
If God gave me the chance to do it all again
Oh, I'd carefully consider every choice and then
Out of all the boys in the world
I'd choose you again

I'd choose you again, I'd choose you again
If God gave me the chance to do it all again
Oh, I'd carefully consider every choice and then
I'd listen to my heart and I'd choose you again
You again, you again

Fourty-five years passes pretty fast. I am grateful for the story He is writing through our lives. It's His really, all His.

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=cpOwHifKxyc